Highland Angel

by Hannah Howell

  "Can any of these children seek shelter with their kin?” he finally asked.

  "Nay,” Kirstie replied. “Alan, David, and William are orphans. Roderick is considered a kind and generous benefactor by those who take on the care of such waifs. He treats such places as his own private stable. If any of those who give him such abandoned bairns ken his evil, the weighty purse he sets in their hands silences all doubt. Moira and her brother Robbie were sold by their mother. The mon she lived with was of Roderick's ilk and she believed she was saving them. I sought her out, but she had died, beaten to death by her lover when he realized what she had done. Callum is a child of the gutter, a near-feral child. If he had any kin, they deserted him so long ago he has no clear recollection of them."

  "Did Callum see wee Robbie die?"

  "Nay. He kens nay more than I—that some children are, weel, hurt, then gone, and we ken where some of the bodies may be buried. Wee Robbie tried to keep Roderick from Moira. He was sorely abused for that. I found him in a tiny, dark room, still alive, but had to leave him for a short while to prepare a way out. When I returned, the lad was gone."

  "Could he have escaped?” asked Strong Ian.

  "Mayhap,” Kirstie replied, then shook her head. “I dare not hope nor give Moira such hope. He was a wee, underfed lad of but seven years and sorely injured. The only way out was through the tunnel I used to reach him, yet I cannae see how he would have kenned it was there. And, it has been near to a fortnight since he disappeared.” She tried and failed to smother a yawn.

  "Ye are nearly asleep on your feet,” Payton said quietly. “Go to bed. Get some rest."

  "But, shouldnae we make plans?"

  "We will. In the morning."

  Kirstie nodded and stood up. “Aye, I dinnae think I could recall much anyway. Where am I to sleep? With the children?"

  "Nay. The room across from them. I suspect Wee Alice has set out a night shift for ye."

  "Where do ye get all these clothes? I can understand the women's, though, remembering the fair Lady Fraser, I am surprised ye have any small enough to fit me so weel. But why so many clothes for the bairns?"

  Payton almost smiled at the cross note in her voice when she spoke of the women's clothes. “My family uses this house, too. All the clothes are ones they have left behind, either apurpose or have simply forgotten. I was beginning to think I should give them to the poor, but ‘tis glad I am I hesitated."

  "Oh.” It had been a somewhat rude question, but Kirstie decided she was simply too weary to be embarrassed. “Just one last word. I suspect ye dinnae really need to be told, but ye must tread warily around the children. ‘Twill be a while ere they feel they can trust any mon, I think. Especially Callum."

  "Aye,” agreed Strong Ian. “That one is like a cornered animal and now he has a knife."

  "Oh, dear,” Kirstie murmured. “Sorry. I just thought he would rest easier."

  "He will. ‘Twas a good thing to give him. Mayhap he will let me show him how to use it."

  "Do ye think that is wise?"

  "Aye. I cannae think of any lad who more needs to ken that he can protect himself."

  Kirstie was still considering that when she crawled into bed a short while later. She murmured in delight as she snuggled into the bed beneath the warm blankets and smoothed her hand over the fine linen night shift she had been given. The fact that the children were enjoying similar comforts pleased her immensely.

  As she relaxed and let sleep creep over her, she thought of what Strong Ian had said one last time. He was right. There was little chance that a child of Callum's age could defeat a fullgrown man and suspected Callum had the wit to know it. And, yet, learning to fight would give him the hope of escape. It could make him feel less helpless. That could only be for the good. Finally giving in to her exhaustion, Kirstie briefly wished there was some way she, too, could lose that chilling sense of being powerless.

  "'Tis a sad business,” Strong Ian said the moment Kirstie left.

  "Aye, and with no easy or swift route to justice,” said Payton. “There are many ways I could simply kill him, but there are just as many ways my part in his death could be discovered. Without proving his crimes, his evil, that could plunge my family into a bitter feud. I cannae risk that. Such an act could also seriously endanger Lady Kirstie."

  "A brave lass."

  "She is and ‘tis clear she cares for the children. She is verra gentle and loving toward them."

  "Which means she has a softness for the bairns, for all children. To discover such evil must trouble her deeply."

  Payton nodded, then frowned slightly. “It does. Do ye think she needs watching, might need to be restrained from acting on her own?"

  Strong Ian shrugged. “'Tis possible. ‘Twill be a while ere we can make it too dangerous for Sir Roderick to continue his evil ways. The lass appears to be acting wisely, using her wits o'er her heart. Yet, something could happen to make emotion o'erule good sense."

  "A difficulty I understand completely,” murmured Payton. “She must be watched carefully, then. If naught else, she is safe now, for her husband thinks she is dead. She cannae be allowed to succumb to emotion, act rashly, and mayhap lose that shield."

  "It could certainly prove useful at some time, useful in bringing the bastard to justice."

  "True, but that usefulness must be verra clear, the results vital to the cause. She is his wife. The moment Sir Roderick kens that she is alive, he can take her back and no one could stop him. ‘Twould be verra easy to make others believe she is naught but an unhappy wife and then anything she says will be ignored. Sadly, the fact that she sought me out will only make it worse. ‘Twould be verra easy for Sir Roderick to act the wounded mon, one shamed by an unfaithful wife, or some such tale."

  "Ah, of course,” Strong Ian rubbed his hand over his forehead and then yawned. “It has been a long night. Just tell me what your first move will be and then I will seek my bed.” He frowned. “Without my lass. I ken the bairns need her, but I hope that wanes soon."

  Payton smiled faintly. “Sorry. ‘Tis my hope it willnae take too long for the children to feel safer here, as safe as they can feel whilst that bastard still lives. And, my first move is to carefully start to blacken the mon's name, as Kirstie tried to do. A whisper here, a warning there. Aye, I will immediately seek the proof I need to bring him down, but through rumor and the spread of a suspicion, I can turn other eyes his way. I can start depriving him of victims and make him begin to feel the weight of that suspicion, and, mayhap, e'en condemnation."

  Strong Ian nodded as he stood up. “And e'en your enemies ken that your word is good. If ye whisper a warning, ‘twill be heeded. ‘Twill be a good start."

  As soon as Ian was gone, Payton sighed and slumped in his chair. He had told the truth about needing to keep an eye on Kirstie, to be certain that she did not lose the battle of logic over emotion. It was a battle he would be fighting himself every day until Sir Roderick was dead. Payton did not think he had ever faced such a challenge. It would be a fierce struggle not to immediately denounce the man, loudly and clearly; an even fiercer struggle not to give in to the keen urge to just cut him down. Payton hoped the need to keep Kirstie from letting her emotions rule would give him the strength to control his own.

  It was also going to be hard not to involve his family. This was a crusade they would be avid to join. Payton knew he would be spending many long days soothing tempers and bruised feelings when his family discovered he had excluded them. But, exclude them he would until he either had no choice or there was no longer the risk of bringing the wrath of the powerful MacIye clan down upon them all. His family might be bigger and hold more power than Kirstie's, but he had the same fear of retribution. MacIye's kinsmen might not be able to decimate his clan and its allies, but they could bloody them far more than Payton cared to think about.

  Payton tensed when the door to the hall eased open, then relaxed when Moira shyly entered. She was an enchanting little child with her thick,
dark curls and her big, dark eyes. He smiled at her as she hurried across the floor and climbed up onto the chair to his right, her clean night shift billowing around her. Payton nudged the plate of bread and cheese closer to her. When she smiled at him, his heart nearly broke. She still wished to trust. Sir Roderick had not succeeded in stealing that from the child.

  "Ye should be abed, lass,” he said as he poured her a goblet full of clear, cool water.

  "I was a wee bit hungry,” she replied.

  "Mistress Alice took food up to your bedchamber."

  "She was sleeping.” She took a sip of water, then asked softly, “Where is Kirstie?"

  "She is sleeping, too. I gave her the bedchamber right across the hall from ye."

  Payton was not surprised to see Callum abruptly enter the hall and stride over to Moira's side. He looked a child in the nightshirt he wore, his thin calves visible below the hem. The hot look of anger and suspicion in his green eyes and the knife he held stole away all hint of boyish innocence, however.

  "Ye didnae have to bring your knife, Callum,” Moira said. “They already have one to cut the bread."

  "I wasnae looking to cut bread, lass,” Callum snapped. “Ye shouldnae be down here with this mon."

  "He isnae a bad mon."

  "Wheesht, how would ye ken that?"

  Moira looked at Payton for a moment, then looked back at Callum and shrugged. “His eyes. They dinnae look like my mither's mon's or Sir Rod'rick's.” She looked back at Payton. “My mither is with the angels, like my brother. The angels willnae take me, will they?"

  "Nay, lass,” Payton replied. “I willnae let that happen. And,” he nodded toward Callum who had been unable to resist the food and was gnawing on a thick slice of bread, “ye have a fine protector in Callum."

  "Aye.” Moira smiled at Callum. “And he has a big knife now."

  "That he does,” agreed Payton. “Mayhap he would like to learn how to use it,” he said, fixing his gaze upon the boy.

  "I ken how to use it weel enough,” snapped Callum.

  "Ah, then ye dinnae need any training from Strong Ian.” Payton took a drink to hide his smile over the interest Callum was unable to hide.

  "Weel, there may be a trick or two the mon could show me."

  "There may be."

  "I will do some thinking on it."

  "Verra wise."

  "I have the wee ones to protect and all, ye ken."

  "That ye do, lad, and to be alert to do that important job weel, ye need rest.” Payton stood up and, keeping his gaze fixed upon a wary Callum, helped Moira out of her seat. “I mean to seek my bed myself.” He was surprised at how touched he was when Moira slipped her tiny hand into his. “Ere ye slip back to your beds, I will show ye where the Lady Kirstie sleeps."

  Payton could almost feel Callum's watchful gaze as the boy followed him and Moira up the stairs to their bedchamber. The fact that Kirstie had given him her approval was obviously enough to stir a tiny spark of trust in Callum. It would require a lot of patience, but Payton was determined to keep that spark alive and make it grow. He knew one way was to accept the boy's self-appointed role as protector of the wee ones. The fact that Callum had a cause, an obvious need to be an important member of this band of small survivors, could well help the child recover from all he had suffered. There would always be scars, but Payton was certain that strength and a restored pride in himself would help the boy more than anything else. Callum was a survivor, a fighter, and that was a characteristic Payton knew how to work with.

  He paused before Kirstie's bedchamber and eased the door open so the two children could see that their lady was still near them, still safe. She was sprawled on her stomach on the bed, her slender body barely shaping the thick blankets covering her. Her face was turned toward them, one small fist resting near her mouth. Payton thought she looked like a child and wondered what there was about her that had made Sir Roderick unable to truly see her as one. At the tender age of fifteen she must have looked even more like a child, yet, despite his hopes, the man had apparently been unable to convince himself she was one when it was time to bed her. The few of Sir Roderick's ilk Payton had been unfortunate enough to deal with, had all had wives and children, obviously able to act as a man despite the demons lurking within them. Perhaps, he mused, Sir Roderick's demon had conquered him. Inwardly shaking his head over that puzzle, Payton silently shut the door and escorted the children to their own room.

  "Are ye going to fight Sir Roderick on the morrow?” Callum asked in a near whisper, pausing in the doorway beside Payton as Moira tiptoed to her small bed.

  "I will begin the battle, aye,” replied Payton in an equally soft voice. “'Twill be a long one, I am thinking. It must be a slow, cautious assault."

  "Why?"

  "Because we are the only ones who are willing to speak out against him. ‘Tis nay enough. His family is a powerful one."

  "We would be killed."

  Pleased the boy had the wit to understand the difficulties, Payton nodded. “And my kinsmen and your lady's could find themselves in danger, e'en in the midst of a feud. Aye, Sir Roderick must die, but we want to be sure no innocents fall with him. We want him to die alone, his name nay more than a foul curse."

  Callum nodded. “And that will take time."

  "Aye, lad, especially since ye, the bairns, and your lady must all be kept weel hidden. The mon will taste the cold steel of justice, but ye must be patient."

  "I will be. And, I will grow and get strong,” he looked at the knife he held, “and I will learn how to fight.” He looked at Payton. “And, when that bastard is dead, I will still grow and get stronger and become a mon of skill and cunning."

  "Of that I have nay doubt."

  "And then I will be able to protect the wee ones from all such men. Then I will be able to hunt down such evil and end it. On that I swear.” He gave a sharp nod and strode to his bed.

  Payton made his way to his own bed, thinking of what Callum had said. In his heart, the boy had already taken the oath to protect children. In his heart, Payton also took an oath. He and his clan would give the boy all he needed to fulfill that oath. By the time Callum reached manhood, he would have all the skill, learning, and weaponry he needed to be the guardian of innocence he wished to be. Payton knew that it would be a legacy to the world he could take pride in.

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  CHAPTER THREE

  "Where are the bairns?” Payton asked Strong Ian as he met the man outside of the empty room where the children had slept.

  "Been up and about for an hour or more,” replied Ian.

  "Jesu, I must have been weary to sleep through the rising of five children."

  "Nay. ‘Tis sad how quiet they were. Like wee ghosties.” Ian shook his head as he started down the narrow stairs. “My Alice would have slept through it, too, except wee Moira woke her. The poor lass couldnae get her clothes on proper."

  "Moira seems right ready to trust us,” said Payton as he followed Ian.

  "My Alice thinks the other wee ones will be quick to accept us, too. The lass was loved by her mother, it seems, so she kens an adult can have a kindness in him. The wee lads were probably not with that bastard long enough to have all their faith and innocence destroyed. Ah, but Callum lost much of his ere he was e'en cursed by Sir Roderick's attentions. As a street waif he would have had a dismal life, nay much better than a stray cat's."

  Payton sighed and nodded. “He survived. He is a strong lad. He wants to be a champion of innocence."

  "He would probably be a good one if one can teach him nay to just cut the throats of such scum."

  "Aye, that could be a problem,” Payton agreed, and laughed softly. “That dismal beginning could actually serve him weel now. He was hardened, wise to evil and brutality, ere MacIye got his filthy hands on him. As ye say, there was probably no sweetness or innocence in Callum to be destroyed.” Payton frowned. “There is something strangely familiar about the boy.” He shrugged. “No
matter. Ridding the world of MacIye is all that must concern us for now."

  "Are ye going to send word to your kin?"

  "Nay, not yet. If I must ask them to assist me against a clan as powerful as Sir Roderick's, I want to be sure I have at least enough proof to avert the chances of a feud. Or, that the danger to Kirstie and the children grows too great, more than we can deal with on our own."

  "Agreed,” said Strong Ian as they entered the great hall. “For now, we can deal with the bastard."

  Payton nodded and started toward his chair. After serving the children, Kirstie was just helping herself to some food as he sat down next to her. Callum watched him closely, even as he continued to eat, but the other children greeted him shyly before turning all their attention to their food. It was becoming increasingly clear to Payton that the younger children had been saved before they were too badly abused. They were wary and easily frightened, but held none of Callum's intense distrust or rage.

  "Did ye pass a good night, m'lady?” Payton asked as he helped himself to some bread and fruit.

  "Oh, aye,” replied Kirstie. “It has been too long since I enjoyed such a warm, soft bed. And to have had a hot bath and a meal ere I sought my bed as weel? Ah, there is heaven."

  "But, ye were wedded to a laird,” Wee Alice muttered as she served Payton a large bowl of honey-sweetened oatmeal and moved to serve the children more of the same.

  "And she was always irritating him,” Callum said as Wee Alice sat down next to Moira.

  "I wasnae,” Kirstie began to protest.

  "Oh, aye. Ye were. ‘Tis what the mon said the last time he shut ye in the cage for near to a sennight. He said that ye irritated him like a bad rash."

  "The cage?” Payton asked.

  "My husband feels wives need stern chastisement,” Kirstie replied. One glance told her Sir Payton would press for a more precise answer and she sighed. “He had a metal cage hung from one of the walls at Thanescarr, his keep about a half-day's ride south of here. Occasionally, he put me in it so I could ponder the error of my ways. A week was the longest I e'er had to rest there. Ye cannae be so verra surprised that my husband can be cruel."