“Brenna!” It was hard to shout without losing his hold. “Alexander! Over here!”
“He lives! I heard him just over there. Hurry!” shouted a voice he never expected to hear accompanying his wife and the man he considered a brother. ’Twas that wench, Cadha. What in the devil’s name was she doing with them?
“I am here!” he called out again, hopes rising as the darkness above him fell away to the soft flickering of torchlight.
“So you are,” drawled Commander Barricourt as he none too gently settled his boot on top of Magnus’s fingers. “Before you die, you should be commended, Master de Gray. I rarely take such a personal interest in the retrieval of escaped prisoners.” The boot pressed harder, slowly crushing his fingers and threatening his hold. Barricourt sniffed, then rumbled out a wicked chuckle. “Such a perfect outcome. Her Majesty and the entirety of England thank you for saving them the trouble and expense of imprisonment and hanging. Your tomb here is ready-made.”
“Bastards!” Alexander roared from across the way. “The conniving whoresons followed us, Magnus. Hang tight. I’ll kill them with my bare hands and have ye out of there in no time.”
“I very much doubt that,” Barricourt laughed. “While Cawldrake might appear useless, he is a fine shot.” The tip of his boot twisted as though the man turned. “The chief, shoot him now, Cawldrake.”
“Nay!” Raithwaite’s voice rang out loud and clear. “A shot in here could cause a cave-in for certain.”
“I see.” Cawldrake hissed out a frustrated huff. “Well, no matter. If the chief moves while I’m toying with this fool, shoot him. I am willing to risk it.”
“Leave my husband alone!” Brenna screamed from the other side of the fissure. Magnus wished he could turn and see his precious dear one, but he didn’t dare. He would lose his hold for certain.
The boot ground harder atop the fingers of his left hand, twisting with more pressure. “Madam,” Barricourt rudely snorted, “and I do use that term with as much disrespect as possible, my little whore. Your husband has been found wanting and is set to descend into his grave forthwith. Any last words for him to take with him?”
“If she doesna have anything to say, I do!” screeched Cadha.
Barricourt exploded with a shrieking cry as he tumbled over Magnus, then disappeared down into the darkness. His screams grew faint, then went silent.
“Commander!” Cawldrake shouted. “Commander!”
Only silence answered.
Magnus struggled to improve his hold, his crushed fingers numb. He had to get up on that ledge. Fast.
“You have killed the commander and made me look the fool!” Cawldrake roared.
“Aye, I killed the man, but ye didna need my help to look the fool.” Cadha laughed. “Ye had that task well in hand all by yerself.”
Pulling himself up as much as his waning strength allowed, Magnus peeped over the ledge. Wee Cadha faced off Second Lieutenant Cawldrake, as though ready to battle the man. How had the slip of a girl made it past him to shove the commander over the edge?
“I shall snap your neck with my own hands!” the lieutenant shouted, tossing his pistol aside.
Cadha crouched a bit, swaying from side to side like an adder about to strike. “Come at me, if ye dare.”
“Dinna ye touch her!” Brenna warned. “Cadha, lay on the floor and hug the wall, Alexander’s coming!”
“Raithwaite, you will stop that man whilst I deal with this bit of rubbish,” Cawldrake ordered as he dove for the girl.
Raithwaite jumped for the lieutenant just as the officer caught hold of Cadha. “Leave her be, sir! Leave go of her, I say!”
“Never!” Cawldrake roared.
“Then die with me!” Cadha cackled, lunging backward. She wrapped her arms around his neck while at the same time kicking off the wall and swinging the two of them toward the abyss. Her valiant efforts were rewarded. Cawldrake lost his balance and fell with her into the gaping maw of the pit.
“God bless her and keep her,” Raithwaite whispered as he knelt on the edge and stared down into the darkness.
“A little help, Sassenach?” Magnus grunted, his tenuous grip about to fail. As much as his heart ached at Cadha’s precious sacrifice, he didn’t wish for her to have died in vain.
Both Raithwaite and Alexander took hold of his wrists and pulled, giving him the needed support to climb up onto the ledge. He’d never been so thankful to stretch out across cold, hard rock in his life.
“Thank God Almighty, ye’re safe.” Brenna crouched at his head, raining kisses on his face and in his hair. “I feared ye dead,” she wept as she pulled him into her arms and hugged him to her breast. “I’ve ne’er been so afraid in my life,” she whispered.
Magnus rolled to sit and scooped her into his lap as he leaned back against the cavern wall. He crushed her to his chest, closing his eyes as he breathed her in and held her. “I thank God for ye, m’love.” And he meant it. For it had to have been Divine Providence alone that had kept him hanging on that ledge. “Thank God Almighty.”
“What say we hie to the keep?” Alexander asked, crouching down beside them. “Can ye walk?”
“I shall be more than happy to help if not,” Raithwaite volunteered. “But before we emerge from the caverns, I’m none too sure the keep is the safest place for Master de Gray. Especially not with both the commander and Lieutenant Cawldrake dead.”
“What about yerself, man?” Magnus asked. “Will ye be safe as the sole survivor?”
“I do have an idea,” Raithwaite mused with a cocked brow, then his smile beamed brighter than the torchlight. “I truly believe it will work.”
*
“Here lies Magnus de Gray and his beloved wife Brenna Maxwell de Gray,” Brenna read aloud. “It feels strange to visit yer own grave and read the inscription on the headstone.”
“Now, now Renna MacCoinnich,” Magnus said as he hugged her close and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Magnus and Brenna were dear friends whom we shall never forget, aye?”
“Aye, Jedidiah MacCoinnich.” She smiled, praying that Archibald Raithwaite’s plan worked. From now on, all would know her and Magnus as Jedidiah and Renna MacCoinnich, long-time residents of Tor Ruadh. Their old selves had fallen to their deaths in the caverns of Ben Nevis, along with Commander Barricourt, Second Lieutenant George Cawldrake, and poor, misunderstood Cadha. Her gaze fell to the bundle of flowers she held. “I brought these for Cadha. We should pray for her, aye?”
“Aye,” Magnus agreed with a quiet reverence, shifting his stance and situating his cane to firmer ground. He couldn’t bear the same position for longer than a few moments. His injuries forbade it.
Brenna bent and placed the bough of vibrant pink heather and ivy at the base of Cadha’s tombstone.
“It’s a shame we didna ken her surname.” Brenna kissed two fingers, then pressed them to the marker located beside their own. “I pray the poor lass has, at last, found peace.”
“I do, as well.” Magnus frowned down at the maid’s grave with a sad shake of his head. “From all I gathered about her, she never knew peace in life.”
Brenna rose, her heart aching for the troubled girl. Aye, the maid had been a thorn in her side, but toward the end, she felt sure they had developed something akin to friendship. She returned to Magnus’s side, walking on his right since he held his cane on his left. “Do ye think Raithwaite will be able to convince them we died?”
“I will consider nothing to the contrary.” He gave her a smile, but she wasn’t fooled. Concern tightened the corners of his mouth.
They strolled through the peaceful kirkyard, taking advantage of one of the last days of balmy sunshine before bitter winds brought frost to paint the Highlands with the vibrant colors of fall. If Raithwaite’s report, filed for the next commander’s review, didn’t conceal them, then passage on one of Duncan MacCoinnich’s smuggling ships would have to be booked before the seasonal storms made it impossible to reach his island and take up resid
ence with him, his wife, Tilda, and their children.
Magnus flinched, then grunted, his knuckles whitening on the handle of his cane.
“We’ve walked too much. Yer leg will never heal if ye dinna rest it.” She and Gretna had hurt his pride as well as his arse by digging out several shards of stone embedded deep in his right buttock. His right knee, badly wrenched and swollen to twice its normal size, received herbal wraps daily. He would heal, but it would take time, and Brenna feared he might be left with a permanent limp. She turned them toward a secluded bench beside the low wall separating the chapel garden from the rest of the keep. “What say we sit here a while, aye?”
“Ye treat me like a sickly bairn.” His growling sounded like a wounded beast, but Brenna heard the relief in his tone.
“And I’ll tell Keigan that a ride this afternoon is out of the question.” The child would be disappointed, but it would be an excellent lesson in compassion and consideration. “He and the lads can hunt with Merlin instead, aye?” Keigan enjoyed working with the falcon almost as much as he loved riding.
Magnus huffed out a disgusted snort as he lowered himself to the bench. He rested both hands atop the cane planted between his feet and rocked forward and back like a sulking child. “I dinna wish the lad to think me weak.” He cut a dark glare in her direction. “It isna fitting, ye ken?”
“Weak? How many times has he made ye repeat yer story of all ye endured in the caves?” She resettled her skirts and met his dark scowl with a stern frown of her own. “Ye’re a hero to the lad. Ye heard him retelling yer tales to the other children. He doesna think ye weak.” After an unladylike snort, she added, “And I havena heard a peep from the rotten wee scamp about my adventures or all I endured!” She flicked a hand and laughed. “’Tis obvious—only his father’s bravery matters!”
“Which reminds me.” Magnus sat straighter on the bench and slowly shook his head. “Ye never told me how Cadha came to know so much about the caves. The way ye talked about how she led ye back to the keep made it sound as though the lass knew the maze better than any of us.”
Memories of how their odd friendship came to be made Brenna smile. “While I bound her broken arm, she told me she had learned the caves to impress ye. Said that just after ye brought her to Tor Ruadh, she heard ye had helped Alexander and Graham map out the tunnels.” Her smile faded, wiped away by the hurt in her heart as Cadha’s words replayed through her mind. “She said she had no friends, so whenever she finished her duties, she learned the caves to impress ye.” Scooting closer, she looped her arm through his and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “She loved ye true, mo ghràdh. In her own sad, twisted way.”
“Poor lass.” Magnus squeezed her hand and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I wish Alexander had made the both of ye stay behind whilst he came and looked for me.” A gruff sigh left him. “Then she would be alive, and perhaps we couldha freed her from her addled mind and helped her find happiness of her own.” He squeezed her hand again. “And if the caves had claimed ye. too, I wouldha released my hold on that ledge and joined ye in death.” Shifting on the bench, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and lifted her face to his. “Ye are my heart, my soul, my all. I canna imagine life without ye.”
“And that is exactly why I came with Alexander, my dearest love.” She reached up and caressed his cheek, his day’s stubble scratching her palm in the best sort of way. “I couldna bear to stay behind and wonder. No one couldha kept me from ye.”
“Ye are a verra stubborn woman,” he whispered, bending closer.
“Aye. That I am.” Time for talk was over. She closed the space between them and kissed the man she loved more than life itself, the man she had once hated but now couldn’t imagine a life without. “I love ye,” she whispered against his mouth. “Mo chridhe, m’anam, mo chuid.”
“My heart, my soul, my all,” he repeated, throwing the cane to the ground and pulling her into a proper embrace. “And I thank God Almighty for putting ye in my life.”
A giggle escaped her, bubbling up between them. “Father William would love to hear ye say that,” she said as she tightened her arms around his neck.
With a wicked glint in his eyes, he shifted them around on the backless bench and rolled her off into the softness of the thick ivy between the bench and garden wall. Settling himself atop her, he nuzzled kisses along her throat and jawline. “I shall be sure and repeat it to him when he’s christening the bairn we start here in the kirkyard.”
“Magnus, we canna do this here!” she scolded in a harsh whisper. “’Tis blasphemy!” She gave him a meaningless push, knowing she had no intention of refusing him. “What if someone sees? And yer hip! What about yer hip and knee?”
“Exercise heals a man’s ailments.” His warm breath tickled the sensitive skin behind her ear in a way she couldn’t resist. “And if anyone sees—they’ll know that Jedidiah MacCoinnich loves his wife and canna keep his hands off her.” He paused in his nibbling, lifted his head, and gave her a look that made her ache for him even more. “I love ye, mo ghràdh, and need ye with a fury.”
“’Tis a good thing, my love—for I love ye and need ye just the same.”
Epilogue
MacCoinnich Chapel
Ben Nevis, Scotland
One Year Later…
“I believe ye swore to repeat something to me on this blessed day,” Father William announced with a superior air.
Magnus cut his eyes over at his cherished lady love. “Ye told him?”
“Of course, I told him,” Brenna said, then pressed a tender kiss to the velvety head of their two-week-old son. For the moment, their precious wee bairn slept while bundled in his loving mother’s arms. She gave him a wicked smile that made him love her even more. “It was yer oath, remember?”
There was no getting around it. She had snared him well and good with his own words. He didn’t know if they had conceived the wee one in the kirkyard that day, but he had promised, and a promise was a promise. Wrapping his left arm around Brenna and his right around Keigan, he hugged his beloved family closer. ’Twas a wonder his heart didn’t burst with all the happiness it held. He threw out his chest and spoke loud enough for all gathered for the christening to hear, “I thank God Almighty for bringing this wondrous woman into my life.” After a hard swallow to bridle more emotions than he had ever known, he continued, “I am truly blessed. Two healthy sons and a woman I love so much it frightens me. What more could a man ask for?”
Father William beamed at him with a proud smile. “Well said, my son, well said.” He held out both hands. “And now, let us welcome this precious child into the house of God.”
Magnus tensed. He didn’t like anyone other than himself, Brenna, or Keigan holding the babe. He was a mite selfish and protective when it came to his family, and proud to be so.
As soon as Brenna passed the little one to Father William, the baby’s bright blue eyes popped open. His tiny forehead wrinkled into a furious scowl, and his face turned red.
Magnus didn’t attempt to suppress a smile. He knew what was coming. His new son had a ferocious temper and a squall loud enough to be heard across the Highlands.
“There now, my fine wee one,” the holy man said as he settled the squirming babe in the crook of his arm. He scooped up a palmful of holy water, then looked first at Magnus and then Brenna. “The name?”
“Gray Tamhas Maxwell MacCoinnich,” Brenna supplied.
The babe kicked and wriggled, fighting his swaddled blankets as he grunted and growled his displeasure.
“He’s about to cut loose,” Keigan warned. “Ye best hurry so’s ye can hand him back and cover yer ears.”
“Now, now,” Father William swayed from side to side and cooed. “This isna my first christening. I’m good with the bairns. They all love me.”
Little Gray chose that moment to argue the fact with an ear-splitting shriek.
The holy man cleared his throat, leaned closer to the baptismal, and wet the c
hild’s head. “I baptize thee, Gray Tamhas Maxwell MacCoinnich in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
The tiny babe shrieked with rage, squirming and fighting as though the priest had tried to drown him. All those gathered in the chapel laughed and cheered.
“Ye’ve still got the touch, Father!” Alexander called out from the front pew where he sat surrounded by his family. Catriona elbowed him and fixed him with a stern look.
“Why do ye always pinch them?” Graham shouted, then flinched and grabbed his arm. Mercy lifted her chin, her sightless gaze fixed straight ahead. “Shame on you, saying such a thing in church. Speak of pinching again. I dare you.”
Brenna scooped the squalling mite out of Father William’s arms and cuddled him to her breast. She crooned and hummed a tuneless song to soothe the furious wee beastie.
Magnus couldn’t be prouder nor more content. Two sons, both canny and fierce and braw. A woman who not only stole his heart but also healed his soul. Life couldn’t be better.
“I am thankful,” he said as he hugged his lady love close and smiled down at his yowling son. The babe squeezed his finger without lessening his wails.
“And I, as well.” Although weariness shone in her smile, love and contentment sparkled in her eyes. “I love ye, my own.”
“I love ye, too, my all.”
From the Author
Dear Reader,
And so, the Highland Heroes series comes to an end. The romantic tales of the seven warriors bound by blade and blood.
I hope you’ve enjoyed meeting the men and women who shaped Clan MacCoinnich and returned it to its glory. I like to think they thrived in their homes at Ben Nevis, Edinburgh, Castle Greyloch, and a hidden island in the Caribbean, then eventually emigrated, fully escaping the final Jacobite uprising and the bloody period in Scotland’s history that followed.
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