Highlander's Embrace

by Amy Isan

  Richerd turned to Moira and met her gaze. She smiled, her dimples similar to Elyn's. Richerd laughed and met Gavin's fiery gaze. “For the man who protected her? Kept her safe? And discovered the madman who had her abducted? Anything. Now go – your people need you. She'll be taken care of here.”

  “I canae take all the credit, you’ll have to speak with Elyn about her share.” Gavin breathed a sigh of relief.

  He gathered his sword and rose to his feet, giving an agreeable nod to Mathou, who gestured for him to follow. They disappeared through the adjacent door to prepare for the trip back to Eilean Donan Castle.

  Chapter 14: Elyn

  1540 — August 31st

  The MacDonalds congregated in the spare room that Elyn was resting in. The arrow hadn't cut her very deep, only grazing her skin and making the injury look far worse than it was. The most skilled healer was brought in to treat her, and he was able to free the arrow from her side and bandage her up. The cream colored cloth was wound tightly around her stomach, but she seemed to be in much better spirits after been given some rest and some tea.

  In between bouts of sleeplessness and pain, Elyn rolled in the bed and in her daze swore she recalled someone standing over her. Not the healer, but a strange man, with maddening eyes. He reached out to grab her arm, but when she backed away and blinked, he had disappeared. A vision and nothing more.

  When Moira and Richerd came into the room to visit her, she brushed away the strange dream as a feverish symptom of her pain.

  The MacDonalds saw their daughter for the first time in twenty years. Elyn’s eyes bounced between the two, hopeful excitement welling up and making her tear up. Moira collapsed down on her knees and cried, too grateful for words.

  “My daughter, I can’t believe you’re actually here, you’re actually alive,” Richerd said quietly. He gave her hand a squeeze and looked her over. “You’ve grown to be so beautiful, with your mother’s red hair.”

  Elyn tried to smile and raise herself to her elbows. Richerd urged her to rest.

  “No, I cannae. Where is Gavin? I need to see him.”

  Her father frowned. “He’s already left to lead the charge against the Maxwells.”

  “With who?”

  “Mathou, one of our best swordsmen. He was in charge of the — ”

  “The man in the throne room? With the dark hair?”

  “Aye, that’s him.”

  Elyn’s heart sank at the realization. She couldn’t pin where she had seen him before until that moment. Then it struck her like a flash of lightning.

  “No! I have to go with him! I can’t stay here!” Her mind whirled. She tried not to think of him heading back and getting killed. Her highlander. The man she had first met dressed in nothing but a cloak. Who could hardly fish. She didn’t get the chance to utter those three magic words to his face, to watch his eyes light up.

  She threw the sheets off herself and winced in pain as she sat up. She dangled her legs off the bed, to the shock of Moira and Richerd. “What did I say? You have to stay!” Richerd commanded.

  “No! I donae. I’ll have plenty of time to rest and trade stories of our lives, but I have to be with Gavin, I have to help him. You donae know what you’ve done!” She couldn’t believe she was mouthing off so much to her Da, after having just met him. She couldn’t get into an argument now though, not when time was so short. She hopped down to her feet and nearly stumbled over in pain, her hand reflexively going to her injury and bracing it. She hobbled over to the chair nearby and threw on her furs and cloak again, making sure everything was snug. She laced the string especially tight around her side, hoping to ebb the throbbing sensation that coursed through her every time she dared move. She brushed past Richerd and Moira, trying to ignore their stunned faces.

  “That man, Mathou, is one of Maxwell’s men,” she explained.

  “You can’t possibly—,” Moira said, grabbing Elyn’s wrist to try and stop her. Elyn wrested her arm from her grasp and stared her down.

  “Where are the stables? I need a horse, I need to go now.”

  She remembered the man’s face that she saw in the throne room. The same one in her dream. Those angry eyes were burned into her memory. The same man who called after her when she escaped from Eilean Donan’s village the night of the attack. That Sheena had slowed down enough for Elyn to escape.

  Without a doubt in her mind, Gavin was in grave danger. She couldn’t be sure if he would strike immediately, or wait until the shroud of battle to lay the betraying blow. She could only be sure he wasn’t trustworthy.

  She climbed atop the fastest steed in the MacDonald stable and dashed out the city gates, charging down the road as fast as she could. Every thundering gallop made her side throb with deep pain. She pushed it away by imaging Gavin tending the wound, his gentle hand redressing her bandage and bathing her. Taking her as his bride.

  The highlands were bright that afternoon, with a cold wind gusting across the unkempt grasses, pushing at Elyn’s back. She felt invigorated, as if the highlands were guiding her. All of Scotland was at her back, pushing her forward and urging her to save it all from collapse.

  Dark clouds coiled on the southeastern horizon, threatening to burst. Elyn was sure the man wouldn’t kill Gavin just yet. Perhaps he’d wait until the chaos of the battle to make his move. It’d be easy to pin it on anyone else then, and maintain his position among the MacDonald troops. Then he could just claim she was hysterical, if he had to. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Chapter 15: Gavin

  1540 — August 31st

  Gavin led the formidable army of MacDonald clansmen from the front, heading down the weather and trail beaten dirt road toward Eilean Donan Castle. The sun lit his face and warmed his skin and he thought for a moment that he should be happy. But something was amiss. He glanced at Mathou, who was riding beside him, and tried to read his face. The highlander stared forward down the path, almost unblinkingly. Gavin couldn’t figure him out. Something felt strange.

  Gavin peered over his shoulder at the army and gave a sweeping look over the men. He had taken control of more than three hundred highlanders to help defend Eilean Donan Castle from Maxwell’s men, and he was thankful to God he didn’t have to fight the two armies at once.

  Many of the highlanders looked fit and healthy, only a few scrawny stragglers among them. Wide and colorful flags bearing the MacDonald crest and tartan wagged in the prevailing wind pushing against their backs. He looked over the horizon and tried to gauge how far they were from Eilean Donan. It would be the rest of the day’s ride at least.

  He scratched his growing beard and sighed heavily.

  “How do you know the Maxwells are the root of all this?” Mathou suddenly said, not turning his head. Gavin tried to identify the man’s accent.

  Gavin looked at him and cracked a smile. “Because the Laird told me so. When he had me thrown in jail at the capital.”

  Mathou nodded gravely. “I see.”

  Gavin snorted and pulled his cloak tighter against his shoulders, trying to fight the wind. The chill of autumn was setting in already. As hardheaded as it sounded, Gavin couldn’t wait for the thrill of battle to warm him. He thought of Elyn, hoping she was making a quick recovery. He silently cursed himself for not visiting her, not making sure she was okay. He would see her soon enough, he thought. Gavin didn’t want to waste time, but at the same hand he didn’t want to push his highlanders too much. If they were exhausted from the trek, they’d be useless in battle.

  ***

  After a couple of hours, Gavin and the men reached and passed through Dornie. Soon after that they reached the entrance of Eilean Donan. Barron met Gavin at the gates, whistling as he looked over his shoulder.

  “I almost didnae think you could do it, Gavin. I thought you’d be a goner as soon as you left.”

  Gavin chuckled. “I’m glad for your vote of confidence, Barron. Where is Alec? I need to speak with him.” Gavin forgot himself for a moment and grew ser
ious. He turned and introduced Mathou. “This is Laird MacDonald's closest guard. He’s always led the clansmen against any force that threatens the MacDonald line.”

  Barron nodded to Mathou. “I expect you brought food, we’re nearly out ourselves.”

  A smile from Mathou. “Enough to feed an army, I’d say.”

  Barron laughed, nearly buckling over before catching Gavin’s eye. “Alec is in his chamber, he’s expectin’ you.”

  ***

  Up in Alec’s chambers, Gavin found him resting in one of his chairs. He turned and embraced his friend.

  “Gavin! I see everything went well,” Alec said. “How did it go?”

  Gavin couldn’t help but crack a broad smile. “I recruited the entire MacDonald army.”

  Alec gaped. “How many men?”

  “Around three hundred, by my count.”

  Alec laughed at the insanity of it. He grabbed the back of a chair to brace himself as he regained his composure. He sniffed and looked around with worry. “Where’s Elyn?”

  “She was injured,” Gavin said. He hung his head and stared down at Alec’s feet. “She’s resting at Strome Castle with her family.”

  “Will she be coming back?”

  Gavin didn’t answer. He brushed past Alec’s shoulder and went to the balcony. He ran his fingers over the rough-hewn stone, as if it were his first time touching it. He looked over the dusky horizon of the highlands, over the cliffs into the lowlands. “Any word on the Maxwells’ movement? I cannae believe they aren’t at the gates already... God must be watching us.””

  “Not yet. I sent a team of scouts out a couple of hours ago. I expect we’ll hear from them by morning. They’ll let us know if any men are coming.”

  Gavin gritted his teeth, before saying, “If any of them make it back.”

  “Aye. But they should. Barron selected them himself.”

  Gavin sighed and stretched his sore muscles. Too much traveling and not nearly enough resting was beginning to take its toll, even on one of the most fit of highlanders. He rubbed his shoulder and patted Alec on the back.

  “I should get back to the hall, I need to be eating with the men.”

  Alec nodded. “I’ll join you in a bit.” He moved and placed his hands over the balcony, leaning his weight into them and staring into the darkness.

  ***

  Down in the dining hall, Gavin grabbed a large drumstick to feast on. He threw it on a plate and moved to find a seat among the men. The three hundred souls filled the room, the roar of their laughter and banter a nearly deafening roar, but a welcome one at that. Gavin managed to find a small seat secluded from another group of tables. He hoped to scarf some food down before getting wrangled into a drinking contest.

  Mathou glanced at him from across the room and moved to meet him. Gavin tried to hide his annoyance.

  The MacDonald highlander sat down next to Gavin, throwing his leg over the bench and gobbling a bite of his turkey leg.

  “You think they actually believed you?” Mathou said, his voice low and beckoning Gavin to lower his ear to listen.

  “Who? About what?”

  “About the girl. Being their daughter.”

  Gavin didn’t see where Mathou was going with this, was he making a joke? “Why else would have they carried her off to get healed?”

  Mathou laughed, drawing the attention of nearby MacDonald clansmen. A half dozen men raised their heads from their plates to watch the two men talk.

  “And that story about the Laird Maxwell actually poising himself against the crown? What a load...”

  Gavin stared at him. “You donae believe it?”

  “Nay. I think you’re a traitor. Trying to pass off some obvious whore as the Laird's daughter. What a mockery. Do you think I’ll let my men help you? Or that I’m just biding my time until the Maxwell army gets here and we’ll surprise you?”

  Gavin let his unfinished turkey leg clatter to his plate with a loud noise. Other clansmen in the hall turned their attention to the two men, watching them intently. He scowled and gripped his sword.

  Mathou raised his voice. “I hope that the Maxwells are coming here right now. We’ll help them. We’ll drive your entire clan off into the sea. You traitorous dogs.”

  “What are ye doing?” He clenched his jaw. He looked for Barron and Alec, but they were absent.

  Gavin stood and unsheathed his sword. The men around the mess hall immediately stood and began to murmur between each other, a handful of them unsheathing their own swords in response. Gavin beckoned Mathou to stand. “How dare you talk about your Laird's daughter like that.” He hoped to sway the attention of the eavesdroppers to his side. If there were any sides to choose.

  “Daughter? Surely you can’t expect to fool me as well... You mean that whore you paraded around the castle?”

  Gavin pointed the tip of his sword at Mathou. “Donae speak of her like that.”

  Mathou gave him a knowing grin and lowered his voice so only Gavin could hear. “I saw her when she was resting, I was tempted to slide my hand up her dress. I could have slit her throat, too, it would have been as easy as your father’s, old men die so —, ” Gavin cut him off with a swing of his blade. It sank deep into Mathou’s shoulder. Blood spilled out and poured down Mathou’s chest, covering his lap in a pool of blood. He grimaced and howled in pain, biting his tongue and lifting himself from his seat. He managed to unsheathe his sword and call out to his men, in between sharp gasps of air.

  “Gavin MacKenzie is a traitor to the crown, he insults our Laird with a whore, and tries to make us all look like fools!” He lifted Gavin’s blade out of his shoulder, his slashed clothing stained with blood. The deep wound ebbed.

  The hall was silent now. All the men were staring at Gavin, and he couldn’t tell if they were friendly stares.

  As each clansmen unsheathed his sword, another followed, until nearly the entire hall was equipped with their blade. Gavin looked at them with indignant rage. “Fools! You actually believe him?”

  Gavin’s stomach knotted as he moved away from the advancing army. He was bewildered, his head throbbing with pain and confusion. He looked for a way out, but the only entrance to the hall was barred off. He climbed atop a table and held his ground, not daring to make any sudden moves.

  Mathou collapsed back to the ground, his injuries knocking him out. His men glanced at his body as they marched on Gavin.

  A yell swung their attention from Gavin to the entrance of the room. Elyn rushed from the entrance, parting the crowd and moving to separate the bloodlust-filled army from Gavin. She spread her arms out to try and hide him, keeping a fixed look in her eyes. Gavin noticed her guard was up when she glanced over her shoulder at him. She surveyed the situation and looked at Mathou’s slain body.

  Her expression was tempered and hard.

  “Out of the way, wretch, this man is a traitor,” one of the highlanders said to her. Food dabbled his beard and chin, his half-eaten drumstick forgotten in his hand.

  “The only traitor I see is you lot,” Elyn snapped back at him. “That man,” she pointed at Mathou’s body, his face frozen in pain. “Has been fooling you all along. He was here the night Eilean Donan was attacked by the Maxwells. I couldnae ever forget those hateful eyes.” She looked at Gavin, “Where is Alec? Where is Barron?”

  The closest clansmen, a dark haired man with a ponytail, shook his head. “Bullshite. Mathou’s been lead highlander of the Laird for years.”

  Elyn snapped back and stared the man in the eyes. “He’s been foolin’ ye fer a lot o’ years then,” she said. She locked her elbows and tried to keep Gavin blocked off. She could feel his breath on her neck, making her tingle at the sensation. “Check him. Check his pockets.” She looked over her shoulder at Gavin. “Didnae Alec say he sent a letter to Richerd about the attack?”

  “Aye,” Gavin nodded. He gestured with his sword, coercing the man to check Mathou’s corpse. “Check it, lad. I think you’ll find all the evidence you’ll
be needin’. He killed the old Laird MacKenzie with his own hands.”

  The pony-tailed man lowered his sword and moved haltingly toward Mathou. He knelt down and dug through Mathou’s pockets, keeping his eyes on Elyn and Gavin as he searched.

  Finally, his hand grabbed something, and he pulled out a folded sheet of paper, the ink bleeding through the backside of it. Blood from Mathou’s wound was spilt on it, but it was easily decipherable. He lowered his head and looked at it.

  His eyes scanned the page and his jaw dropped in shock as he finished it. He folded it shut and looked back to the MacDonald army.

  “She’s right,” he said, his breath shallow. “This is about the attack on Eilean Donan Castle, addressed to Laird Richerd from Alec Macrae.”

  As the words left his mouth, men began to lower their weapons. More began to sheathe them. A stillness pervaded the room, only the sound of the crackling hearth was left. Gavin moved past Elyn to retrieve the letter.

  Gavin met Elyn’s eyes as he did, searching them for an answer. He mouthed the words, ‘Thank you,’ making her blush almost instantly. He looked at her bandaged side and sighed, moving to her and embracing her in his large arms. He held her against his chest, despite the onlooking watch of the MacDonald clansmen. It didn’t matter anymore, not at all.

  Barron and Alec came rushing into the hall, swords at their ready. Alec shouted first into the disbanding group of clansmen.

  “What in hell is going on in here?” He looked at Mathou’s corpse and grimaced. “Who killed him?”

  “It was me,” Gavin said.

  Barron pushed Alec aside for a moment and waved the charges away. “Good God man, why?”

  “He was one of Maxwell’s men. Elyn says he was in the castle the night of the attack. He killed Laird Angus and tried to kill Elyn too.”

  Before Barron could utter another word, a man pushed past him. He was out of breath, looking haggard and worn with sweat.