The Ravenscraig Legacy Collection: A World of Magical Highland Romance

by Allie Mackay

  Icy wind rushed past them and the ground shook, tilting crazily as the tornado-like wind swirled faster. Kira’s skirts flew up into her face, covering her head until she yanked them down.

  “Aidan – my clothes!” She grabbed his arm, digging her fingers into him. “My medieval clothes are back!” She twisted around, straining to see him, but where he should have been, was only a flash of a black and wild glen, the kind that could have been inhabited by witches and demons. Lightning crackled and zished across the chamber’s ceiling, booming thunder splitting her ears.

  “Wha-” she cried out, but the image vanished instantly, replaced by a young girl in peasant’s clothing, a willow-wand basket clutched to her hip.

  The girl disappeared, too, swept away before Kira even really saw her. More images followed, each one whizzing past at light-speed, whirling and whirling, the colors and roar of the wind, making her dizzy.

  “Kee-rah! Hold on, lass!” Aidan’s voice rose above the chaos.

  Kira felt his arm tighten around her, almost squeezing the breath from her as a yelling, helmeted Viking war band sped past them, followed immediately by quick glimpse into the splendor of a Victorian great hall, complete with dark-paneled walls hung with stag heads, weaponry, and gilt-framed portraits. A swirl of cloud and mist came next, then a broad, open stretch of empty moorland, thick with heather and broom.

  A field of daffodils, giving way to the sudden skirl of bagpipes as an army of Highlanders crested a hill, their swords glinting in brilliant sunshine, their banners streaming in the wind.

  Then the cloud and mist returned, the loud wail of the pipes melting into the darkness, leaving only cold and silence. The soft red glow of Invincible’s pommel stone and the distant howls of a dog.

  “By my soul! That’s Ferlie.” Aidan shot to his feet, pulling her up beside him. “Kee-rah, sweet, it’s over. We’ve made it. We’re on the arch.”

  Kira kept her death grip on his arm, her heart pounding. “Thank God!” She glanced at him, a thrill of hope and gratitude racing through her. “But do you think it’s real? Not like all those images that just whirled past?”

  “Och, this is Wrath, aye.” Aidan laughed. “Sure as I’m standing here. I can even see my men patrolling the far side of the parapet walk. And the ladder, it’s still here, propped against the gatehouse, just as we left it.”

  Kira swallowed, her entire body trembling with relief. Joy swept her when she followed Aidan’s gaze. Indeed, the top of the ladder peeped up over the edge of the arch. And there really were two burly-looking guards pacing along on the opposite wall-walk. Ross and Geordie, if she wasn’t mistaken. Invincible rested on the smooth stone of the arch-top, the red gleam of its pommel now matched by the flickering orange-red glow of the smokehouse fires down on the landing beach.

  They were home.

  “Come, lass, I’ve a score to settle.” Aidan snatched up his sword, sheathing it, before he turned toward the ladder. “Let’s hope we’re no’ too late.”

  Scrambling down, he held up his arms for her, helping her descend. He threw a quick glance through the swirling mist toward his keep, relieved to see torchlight glimmering at the window slits. With luck, the feasting would still be in full swing, his cousin yet locked in his dungeon cell.

  They pounded across the cobbles and burst into the hall. Aidan skidded to a halt, disbelief stopping his heart. Instead of being full of stir and turmoil, shouts and laughter, the hall was empty. No one sat at the rows of long tables. On the dais, his overturned laird’s chair and a toppled bench indicated a hasty departure. As did the many filled trenchers and ale cups, the still burning candles in the silver candelabrums.

  Aidan’s blood ran cold.

  Now he knew why the hall door had stood wide and poor Ferlie howled somewhere, deep in the bowels of the castle.

  The other castle dogs were gone, though by straining his ears, he heard them now. Barking in the distance, along with the muffled cries of men. A woman’s sudden piercing wail, the sound making his gut clench.

  “Guidsakes! It’s happening!” He grabbed Kira’s hand, pulling her with him from the hall, racing to the low arched door that led to the dungeon. “Tavish!” he roared, shouting as they ran. “Hold, man! We’re coming!”

  But when they rushed down the dark, narrow stair and reached Conan Dearg’s cell, the heavy, iron-bound door stood cracked. A fresh-looking pool of blood near threshold left no doubt as to what transpired.

  “Oh, no-o-o!” Beside him, Kira clapped a hand to her throat, her face paling as she stared at the blood. “We’re too late.”

  “Nae! Dinnae say it.” Aidan whipped around, pressing his hand against her lips. “It could be my cousin’s blood. It must be. I’ll no’ allow otherwise!”

  Kira looked at him, her stomach clenching. “Then they’ll be down at the shore – the drowning part.”

  “That’ll be the way of it,” he agreed, already sprinting down the fetid passage. “Pray the gods we get there on time.”

  Streaking after him, Kira kept a hand pressed to her ribs, half afraid her heart would jump right through them if she didn’t. Aidan almost scared her. Never had she seen him look so savage.

  So deadly.

  He shot up the stairs and through the hall with explosive speed, gripping his sword hilt as he ran, not breaking stride until they’d crossed the bailey and neared the small postern door in the curtain walling. As at Conan Dearg’s cell, they found the door ajar. Ferlie paced to and fro in front of the opening, howling and fretting, his lame back legs keeping him from bounding down the cliff steps to the landing beach below.

  “He’s no’ dead, Ferlie-lad,” Aidan reassured the dog, pausing just long enough at the top of the steps to reach again for Kira’s hand. “I can see him! Tavish. And my cousin.” He glanced at her, his eyes wild, blazing. “They’re at the water’s edge, fighting.”

  And they were. Kira saw them now as well. Aidan’s men and a pack of crazed, barking dogs crowded the little beach, Tavish and Conan Dearg going at each other in the middle of a small, cleared circle. She saw, too, that the reddish-orange glow she’d noticed from the arch wasn’t caused by the shore-side smokehouses, but came from the torches many of Aidan’s men held above their heads. The flames gave the scene a hellish tint, the men’s shouts and the clashing shriek of steel meeting steel, filling her with terror.

  In Wrath Bay, a lone galley sped seaward, its hoisted sail declaring the MacLeod colors, the widow’s face as she stood clutching the rail, bathed as red as the torch flames. Her raven hair streamed in the night wind and her galley was already beginning to flounder, lurching heavily to one side as it raced towards the rocks of Wrath Isle.

  “Oh, God,” Kira cried as they flew down the steep, cliff-side steps. “It’s just like you said it would be! That boat’s going to hit those rocks any minute, and Tavish-”

  “… is holding his own,” Aidan panted as they tore down the last few steps and leapt onto the pebbly beach, “and I’m about to relieve him!”

  Aidan wrenched Invincible from its scabbard. Men leapt back, freeing a path as he ran across the beach, sword raised, fury in his eye. Ahead, Tavish and Conan Dearg circled each other, blades arcing and slashing, both men blood-stained and sweating.

  His own sword already lashing, Aidan hurled himself at his cousin, sweeping Invincible in a great, eye-blinding figure of eight motion. “Conan Dearg!” he roared, “‘tis time for a reckoning!”

  “A mercy!” Tavish spun around, his eyes flying wide. “Aidan!” he cried, his relief evident. “You’re here! I dinnae believe it!”

  The distraction cost him. Quick as lightning, Conan Dearg lunged, swinging his blade in a wide arc that would’ve lopped off Tavish’s head if Aidan hadn’t whirled round, kicking Tavish so hard he flew back against the wall of gathered men.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Mundy catch him, seizing Tavish’s sword and tossing it aside. He then snaked a quick arm around Tavish’s waist, holding him so he couldn�
�t rush back into the circle.

  “So it comes down to the two of us!” Conan Dearg taunted, Tavish forgotten. “I’ve waited long for the day!”

  “It is the day you die, Cousin.” Aidan lunged, taking a first cut on Conan Dearg’s arm. “Breathe your last while you can.”

  Conan Dearg laughed and came at him, his sword glinting red in the torchlight as it crashed against Aidan’s with a loud, arm-jarring clank. With a ferocious burst of strength, Aidan knocked him back, grunting with satisfaction when Conan Dearg lost his footing on the slick shingle, his blade nearly flying from his hand.

  Aidan smiled, advancing before Conan Dearg could right himself. “You’re tired, clumsy. Come, let me help you find rest!”

  “A pox on you!” Conan Dearg yelled, swaying on his feet. “You will rue-”

  “That I didn’t do this years ago!” Aidan finished, ramming Invincible deep into his cousin’s chest. Hoisting him in the air, he snarled, “May you find the Devil good company.”

  Conan Dearg stared at him, his eyes bulging, a trickle of blood bubbling from his lips. Glaring at him, Aidan withdrew his blade and resheathed it, grabbing his cousin before he could topple to the ground.

  With a great heave, he pushed him into the surf, dusting his hands as Conan Dearg landed with a splash, a flicker of life still gleaming in his eyes as he stared up at Aidan.

  “So you die by drowning,” Aidan informed him, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “As the history books decried.”

  “The history books?” Tavish spoke at his shoulder, looking on as Conan Dearg went limp, his eyes glazing as the tide claimed him.

  Aidan drew a deep breath, then slung an arm around his friend, pulling him close. “I’ll explain later,” he panted, releasing Tavish to drag his sleeve over his forehead. “After I’ve seen to whoe’er poisoned Kee-rah.” He glanced round at his men, raising his voice when they pressed closer, their cheers and shouts loud in his ears. “Or do you think it was Conan Dearg? Fenella?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Kira finally managed to push through the circle of men. She ran forward, flinging herself into Aidan’s arms. “All that counts is that we’re back here and Tavish is safe.”

  Tavish gave a great bark of laughter. “Safe? Me?” Grinning, he jammed his hands on his hips. “I could say the same to the two of you. Sakes, but I’ve worried about you.”

  “We were fine.” Aidan drew Kira against him, smoothed the hair away from her face. “A mere day’s journeying. Naught more.” He looked down at her, kissed her brow. “Aye, lass?”

  “There were moments.” She leaned into him, lifting her hand to his face, stroking his cheek. “I’m just so glad we made it back.”

  Tavish thwacked Aidan on the shoulder. “I’d hear all about it, regardless.”

  But Aidan didn’t answer him, his gaze sliding away to probe the crowd, searching faces and finding two missing. Nils, whose fierce Viking looks and great height should have had him standing head and shoulders over the fray. And Maili. She was notably absent from where the other two laundresses stood with a small group of kitchen laddies.

  A dark suspicion made his jaw clench. “Love-of-thunder.” He looked over Kira’s head to Tavish. “Dinnae tell me Nils or Maili had aught to do with all this?”

  “Not Nils,” Tavish said, no longer smiling. “It was Maili. She helped them, though you should know she’s the one who warned me of their escape when Fenella disappeared from the hall not long after you left. Maili followed her and-”

  “Maili?” Aidan’s jaw dropped. “But she helped us get away when she dumped the oysters and herring into Fenella’s lap.” Glancing to the sea, he shuddered. The MacLeod galley was almost gone, its wreckage gleaming dully on the choppy waves. “I cannae believe Maili would-”

  “She did it for love of a man.” Tavish looked uncomfortable. “Apparently, she’d set her sights on one of Fenella’s men. The widow promised she’d arrange a marriage between them, in exchange for Maili’s help in slipping in and out of Wrath. And, aye, serving Kira poisoned wine.”

  Aidan shook his head. “But she helped you,” he repeated, puzzled.

  “To be sure,” Tavish agreed. “She also confronted the widow a few days before the feast, demanding to know about the supposed marriage pact. Fenella laughed at her, claiming no MacLeod would lower himself by wedding a laundress.”

  “I see.” Aidan nodded. “Where is she now?”

  “In your solar, with Nils. He’s looking after her.” Tavish shoved a hand through his hair, let out a breath. “Maili followed Fenella into the dungeon and they argued. Fenella dirked her in the ribs in front of Conan Dearg’s cell. It was Maili’s cry that alerted us to their escape. She then told us everything, before she lost consciousness.”

  Aidan frowned. “Will she live?”

  Tavish shrugged. “Nils says there is a chance. But she’ll need care. You may not want-”

  “Give her the best care possible.” Kira pulled out of Aidan’s arms. She glanced up at the keep, high on the cliff. When she turned back to him, she stood straighter, squared her shoulders. “Nothing happened to me, not really. And she did help us get away.”

  Aidan looked at her. “You dinnae mind, Kee-rah? The monkshood could have killed you.”

  “But it didn’t.” She smiled and blinked at him, her eyes starting to mist and her throat closing. “I doubt she’ll do anything like that again. Besides, I can understand a woman’s desperation to win the man she loves.” Swiping a hand across her cheek, she lifted her chin. “How can I not when I might have done the same? If I thought it was the only way to win your heart.”

  “Och, lass.” Aidan reached for her, crushing her to him. “I lost my heart to you that day I saw you at the top of my stair tower. As I have told you!”

  “A-hem.” Tavish tapped his arm, interrupting just as Aidan was about to kiss her. “There’s one more thing.”

  Aidan glared at him. “By all the living gods! What is it?”

  “This.” His smile returning, Tavish reached beneath his plaid and withdrew a small black object. Two cylinderlike rolls, topped with double rounds of bright, clear-shining glass. “I found this buried in the floor rushes in Conan Dearg’s cell. I dinnae know what it is, but-”

  “My dad’s field glasses!” Kira grabbed them, her heart pounding. “Oh, Aidan! Conan Dearg must’ve found them on the arch. That night Kendrew saw him crawling around up there. They must be-”

  “The strange object he used to hit Kendrew on the head with.” Aidan took them from her, eyeing them curiously. He looked into the glass part, dropping them at once. “By thunder!” he cried, bending to pick them up again. He peered into them once more, but from the other end.

  This time he smiled.

  “Another mystery solved.” He handed them to Tavish. “Now we know what Conan Dearg meant when he said he’d ‘see his foes coming before any battle could begin’.”

  Tavish nodded, looking equally pleased. “I thought the same when I found them. Now we shall enjoy that advantage. Woe be to our enemies!”

  “And woe be to my men if they don’t soon clear the beach and hie themselves back to the feast.” Aidan reached for Kira’s hand, linking their fingers. “I’d have a few quiet moments with my lady before we rejoin you.”

  “As you wish.” Tavish nodded, his smile broadening to a grin when his gaze dipped to their matching gold rings. “Dare I hope the remainder of the feast might be spent celebrating something other than Conan Dearg’s demise?”

  “You might.” Aidan’s voice was rough and husky, his words gruff. “Now get the men up to the keep before I lose patience.”

  Tavish laughed, but did as he was bid.

  Alone at last, Aidan took a deep breath. “So, lass…” He lifted her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm. “Shall we give my brave men something to celebrate?”

  Kira blinked, her throat too thick for words.

  “Well?” He looked at her. “Dinnae tell you’re wishing a longer w
ooing period? No’ now, after all we’ve been through together?”

  She swallowed. “Aidan MacDonald, if you’re asking me to marry you, you know I’d love nothing more, but-”

  “But?” He frowned. “That’s another thing you should know by now. I dinnae care for buts. Though” – he stepped back and folded his arms, looking quite the fearsome laird again – “something tells me I ought to hear this one.”

  Kira looked down, nudging her toe into the pebbles. “It’s just that….” She let the words tail off, met his gaze. Her worry was squeezing her soul, making it so hard to speak. “Well,” she tried again, “you know I’ve always felt that I was sent back in time to save you?”

  He nodded.

  “Now that I have, and everything’s been resolved, I’m wondering if I won’t soon be zapped back to my own time.”

  “Kee-rah.” His frown deepening, he lifted her chin. “That willnae happen. Your place is here with me. I know it.”

  “How can you?”

  He smiled. “Because you are my tamhasg, that’s why.”

  Kira’s brows lifted. “Your what?”

  “Och, lass.” He drew her into his arms again, kissing her. “I ne’er believed you were sent here to save me. That, too, I’ve told you. MacDonald men dinnae need lassies to rescue them. We’re together because we were meant to be. That’s what a tamhasg is.”

  This time Kira frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  He laughed and kissed her again, this time long and deep. “Then I’ll speak plainly,” he said at last, pulling back to smile at her. “A tamhasg is the sighting of a future bride or groom. I knew you were mine not long after seeing you that first time. I’ve always known it and it’s why I know time isn’t going to whisk you away from me.”

  “Oh, Aidan.” She blinked, unable to say more.

  Not that it mattered.