Tempest in the Highlands (The Scottish Relic Trilogy)

by May McGoldrick

  “My mother ordered me to leave Tarbert Castle, to stay in hiding even though the clan was weaving many an unpleasant tale of where I’d gone and with whom.”

  His gaze was tender as he looked at her. “I’m glad she did. I don’t want to think what would have become of you if you’d stayed.”

  “I would have been killed by Evers,” Miranda told him flatly. “My mother saw it in a vision. Evers would have killed me to take the relic and its power.”

  He shook his head. “Your mother could have overheard the laird saying that the English commander was coming. And everyone from Berwick to Oban knows the trail of carnage he leaves behind him.”

  Miranda frowned, feeling her frustration growing. “On the Peregrine. I had a vision of you washing overboard. That’s why I was the first hand on deck. I was looking for you. That’s why I jumped in when you went into the water.”

  He shrugged. “I was your means of getting to your brother. And a ship without its captain—”

  “That wasn’t the reason,” she interrupted.

  “You told me yourself that you act without thinking.” He wiped the wetness off her cheek. “You’re a brave woman. You saw a life in danger and you reacted.”

  She did, but that was beside the point.

  “On the cliffs,” she persisted. “I foresaw that those rocks were going to knock you to your death.”

  “You heard the rumble before it happened. We both know that cliff face was crumbling and unsafe.”

  She let out a sigh of exasperation. “On the hill. I knew the flock of birds was going to take flight and you’d lose your footing.”

  He was beginning to look entertained, as if this were a game. “This island is wild, to say the least. And your sense of alertness is extraordinary.”

  “And the well?” she said. “I knew those boulders were going to fall before either of us could see they were coming.”

  Hawk put the relic back in the pouch and handed it to her. “You hold onto this. Perhaps tomorrow, when we’re out of these caves, we’ll talk about it again.”

  Fighting down anger at his dismissal, Miranda watched him go and look among the debris for sturdy pieces of wood. Because Hawk only believed in the rational world, he couldn’t understand the stone tablet and its power.

  She thought back to one of the first visions she had when they arrived on the Isle of the Dead. She was standing inside the stone circle with the red-bearded Druid and the giant and the birdlike woman. The priest told her that Hawk had served his purpose.

  And in spite of the dangers outside, Hawk could not cross into the circle of stones. Miranda now knew the reason why.

  Hawk didn’t believe.

  Chapter 18

  Many heirlooms passed on from one generation to the next. Families preserved swords or spears that had names and stories about epic battles where the weapons were used to accomplish heroic deeds. Rob could think of dozens of folktales in which good luck or trouble came attached to some shoe or some magic harp. To possess the legendary Excalibur was to possess a kingdom. Pieces of bone or wood or cloth that supposedly had some connection to Christ or to some saint were carried back from the Holy Lands and cherished for centuries. Whole cathedrals had been built to house one saint’s fingernail. But that didn’t mean these baubles were charmed or contained one shred of magic in them.

  The lust for power drove men to madness. They would grasp at anything that might take them closer to their ambitions. Even magic. Rob knew that if Evers thought Muirne MacDonnell had even the possibility of some supernatural ability, he would kill to get it.

  Rob didn’t fault Miranda for believing in such things. No harm came from protecting a charm that had obviously been in her family for generations. Her passion in trying to make him believe it was also understandable, considering she’d just awakened from such a vivid nightmare.

  On the other hand, he was a man who believed in reality. He’d always created strategies based on facts. True, he occasionally followed a hunch, but that was only when observation and reasoning supported his decision. All his life he’d worked diligently to follow plans that made sense. And right now, his plan was to get the two of them out of these caves.

  Standing at a bend in the tunnel where two huge slabs of rock leaned against each other to form a passage, Rob peered into the darkness. The blackness was complete; he could see nothing. Even so, he was certain that he was breathing in fresh salt air.

  Retracing his steps to the pool, he found Miranda waiting. Clearly trying to hide her relief at his return, she crouched down and peered under the overhang where the water disappeared into the next tunnel on its way to the sea. She looked up at him.

  “I’ll take a chance and try to swim through there if you feel that’s our only option,” she said firmly.

  Rob smiled. She had the courage of ten men, he thought. Regardless of everything they’d been through, she was ready to face the next obstacle.

  “I don’t think we should risk it,” he replied, his gaze lingering appreciatively on her shirt and the tips of her breasts poking through. She’d folded the wool and left it next to the fire. Now that he’d made up his mind about their future together, it was very difficult not being tempted by her. He wanted to make love to her and make her his.

  “We can’t stay here forever. We’ll starve,” she said, oblivious to the direction of his eyes and his thoughts.

  He nodded and pointed at the gap in the rocks where he’d just been. “That might be a way out for us. There’s a breeze coming down that passage. It’s going off in the right direction. It might just lead to the sea.”

  She looked where he was pointing and frowned. “What if it doesn’t? What if it’s just a dead end? We could get lost, trapped beneath a falling rock.” She couldn’t hide the note of rising anxiety in her voice.

  “We’ll go a short way, see how it looks, and decide whether we should continue on or try something else.”

  “Is the passage tight?”

  “The beginning of it is. But we’ll be dry and we won’t have to worry about the turn of the tide.”

  She stared at the pool of water and then nodded. “Let’s try.”

  “I’m going to make up a couple of torches to light our way.”

  As he passed her, she took his hand and looked into his face. She took a deep breath. “I see you on a beach. The bluffs are rising above you.” She nodded.

  Rob smiled, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her. He’d decided not to argue with her about magic or prophecies, not if they gave her the encouragement she needed.

  Her hands wrapped around his neck, and she kissed him back. Her supple mouth dancing with his gave him such a sudden shock of desire that his manhood hardened. He pulled her hips tightly against him. One hand reached under her tunic, and he took hold of her breast. Her head fell back, and he tasted the silky skin of her throat. His thumb ran across her nipple, eliciting a groan from deep within her. He forced himself to stop.

  “I can’t do this by myself. If you know what’s best for you, you need to step away from me right now.” His voice was so husky he thought it belonged to someone else.

  It was the right thing to do, but Rob was fiercely disappointed when she stepped back.

  She walked to the edge of the pool and splashed some water on her face before turning back to him. “I’ll help you make up the torches.”

  A few moments later, they lit a torch from the embers of their fire and moved into the passage between the rocks. Rob led the way, and Miranda followed closely.

  “Talk to me,” he encouraged her, imagining her difficulty as the dark path grew narrower. There was still no light ahead.

  “I can’t think of anything to say.”

  The tremor in her voice revealed her nervousness. Searching for questions to ask, Rob decided not to add sadness to her stress by asking anything about her past.

  “Let’s talk about the future,” he suggested, raising his torch and stopping momentarily. The flame f
lickered back toward him. There was definitely fresh air wafting in from somewhere ahead. He started off again. “Your brother Gavin. You’re twins. Have you imagined what he might look like?”

  There was a pause before she answered. “I know what he looks like. I saw him last night, in my vision.”

  Rob let it go. She could believe it if she wished. “Tell me.”

  “He wears no wool, only leather. He’s taller than I am and built like a man.”

  Rob laughed. “He is a man. And almost everyone is taller than you.”

  She poked him in the back. “I’m hardly a dwarf. In fact, I tower over most women.”

  “Aye, you’re perfect.”

  He took her hand as they climbed over a boulder. The passage turned slightly. He was fairly certain they were still going in the general direction of the sea.

  “A door,” she whispered.

  “What?” he asked.

  “There’s a door.”

  Rob raised his torch and saw a narrow branch off the passage. Moving closer, he saw it. The light reflected off a tarnished sheet of beaten metal covering the thick oak, secured with dozens of rivets. An array of spider and cobwebs showed that no one had been through it for quite some time.

  “Very odd,” he said, clearing away the webs.

  As he took hold of a rusted iron door handle in the shape of a twisted ring, he looked back at Miranda. She was standing right behind him.

  “Move back a few paces,” he murmured, gesturing toward the passage. “We don’t know what’s behind this.”

  She moved a half step. “There’s no one in there.”

  Hoping she was right, he pushed, but it wouldn’t budge. Standing back, he put his shoulder to it and heard the cracking sound of a wooden latch as the door swung open.

  The sweetish, musty smell of an old crypt immediately attacked his senses.

  “Why don’t you wait?” he suggested, lighting her torch with his.

  “You’re not leaving me out here,” she said.

  Rob ducked his head and went in, holding the torch up ahead of him. Miranda was right behind him.

  The chamber was carved out of the rock. Low and square, it had no windows. Scores of strange figures and designs nearly covered the walls. A small bench was cut into one wall, and some dark cloths were tossed over it. A carved bowl sat on the floor near the stone bench. There was nothing else in the room.

  “By the Virgin, it’s hot in here,” Miranda said, somewhat breathlessly. She was moving along the walls, using her torch to illuminate the figures.

  Rob didn’t feel any heat in the chamber. Holding his torch up, he moved toward the niche. Looking into the space, he realized the dark cloths had not just been thrown there; they enclosed the bones of the chamber’s former occupant.

  The body had been there undisturbed for quite a long time, he thought. A hundred years, perhaps. The clothes were tattered fragments, and it appeared the hermit living here had pulled a leather cloak over himself as one of his final acts. No flesh remained that Rob could see; only shreds of blackened skin marred the perfect whiteness of the skull. Tufts of a beard lay on the cowl, and a carved walking stick was tucked in beside the body.

  “Well, that and the closed door accounts for the smell,” he said, turning to her. “It appears that stone village on the bluff had a priest or hermit of some kind living below them. Which means . . .”

  He stopped. Miranda was standing by one wall, studying the images in front of her and swaying. She stepped back, grabbing for the pouch at her waist. “It burns.”

  Alarmed, he crossed the chamber to her. “Are you all right?”

  She looked vacantly into his face, opened her mouth to say something, and then dropped to the ground, senseless.

  Kenna shivered as she listened to her friend reading the words from the Chronicle of Lugh. The truth was written in the pages. The powerful Macpherson ship and its crew had no power and no say in where they were, in where they would go. Like pawns in a game of chess, Kenna and Innes were being played, and though it never set well with Kenna, she knew all they could do was to submit and act as they were commanded.

  “ . . . And the priests of the oak made us swear the sacred blood oath. When the summons came, we would be drawn to the Isle of the Dead, where the defenders await. And we would know the place where the High King Lugh was laid to rest beneath the stones. The head of Balor the Poison Eye sits atop its mountains, and a shroud of impenetrable mist surrounds it . . .

  Innes finished reading aloud from the chronicle and looked around at the three others in the cabin.

  “It’s no coincidence that we’re here,” Kenna said firmly. “The storm, the fog, the lack of wind. We’re meant to be here. Those of us entrusted with the fragments of the Wheel of Lugh were to protect it until summoned. This is the summons.”

  “But if you’ve been summoned,” Conall put in, “what about Evers? Is he coming, too?”

  “He could be on the island already,” Alexander added. “Waiting for you.”

  The man was a ruthless killer. He had three of the stones in his possession already. He had the power to speak to the dead. And if Miranda MacDonnell was being drawn here to the island with them—and Kenna and Innes were certain of that—the fourth stone would soon be within the Englishman’s grasp.

  “We have to go to the island,” Kenna said flatly.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Alexander argued.

  “Let’s consider our choices,” Innes broke in, laying the chronicle aside. “Suppose we wait until the wind picks up and the fog lifts, and then sail home. Perhaps we go to Duart Castle, as we planned. Suppose Miranda is there now. What shall we gain? Will we be any safer?”

  The men frowned and exchanged a look. All of them knew the truth. It had been terrifying not knowing whom they could trust. It was numbing to guess where the next attack would come from. Kenna had endured many threats against her life since all of this started. She glanced at Innes. The steward at Sinclair’s stronghold had betrayed Innes for the Englishman’s gold. If it weren’t for Conall arriving when he had—if Kenna hadn’t been there to heal her friend’s wounds—she’d be dead.

  “The bounty on our heads is only getting larger,” Innes continued. “Evers will continue trying to get that fourth tablet from Miranda . . . and hunt us down in the process.”

  The two women had made up their minds. But they both knew they had to convince their husbands.

  Kenna picked up the pages of the chronicle and started looking for the passage. “‘The defenders’, it says. We should be safe, protected by them. Here it is: The priests of the oak gave one to each of us and commanded that we travel over the sea to our homeland. We were to protect each tablet until summoned to the Crypt of Lugh, where a high priest, a giant warrior, and an old birdlike woman would take them and protect them for all time.”

  “I don’t care what the bloody thing says,” Alexander replied. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  “Or me,” Conall added, with a look at his wife.

  “We were never intended to bring others with us,” Innes said. “I think that’s why those sailors couldn’t get near the island.”

  “And if we can’t bring them, neither can Evers,” Kenna added.

  Alexander shook his head. “I don’t give a damn about any of that. Even if that butcher is there alone and unarmed, you’re not going onto that island without me.”

  “We may not get any closer than those sailors,” Innes repeated.

  “The only way to find out,” Conall asserted, “is to try.”

  Chapter 19

  She’d seen it before. In her visions. The images on the wall were all there. A giant and a birdlike woman and a robed man with a staff stood at the center of a circle of standing stones. Before them sat a wheel with four sections. Outside of the stone circle, birds flitted in the sky, and scores of skeletal stick figures lay beneath individual mounds. Above each body, wisps of rising smoke danced and became skeletons carryin
g swords and spears and shields. It was an army of the dead, coming to life to wage war, and it surrounded the circle of stones.

  But how could that be? Miranda thought. She saw the future, not the past, and those pictures etched on the wall had been there for decades, centuries. Maybe longer.

  A rhythmic crash of waves steadily invaded her consciousness. Finally, Miranda opened her eyes to the sight of white foam being pushed up across the long, gradual slope of a beach before turning and slipping back toward the sea.

  The images on the wall of the chamber still stretched like a translucent curtain before her eyes. She was in two places at once.

  Miranda blinked, her confusion fitting well with the heavy mists that blended the sky and water and twilight into one. And then she realized she was outside. She wasn’t underground any longer. A fire near her had burned nearly to embers.

  The last coherent memory she had was of standing in a man-made chamber in the caves.

  And she remembered the heat. The heat had become unbearable, as if she’d been catapulted into the sun itself.

  In that chamber, her face, her hands, her very bones were on fire. She was burning, melting. And the scorching pain had been greatest beneath the stone tablet. She’d felt the burn even through the layers of leather and wool.

  Miranda’s hand went to the pouch at her belt. She pulled it away to look at the skin beneath. Her flesh was visibly burned and raw.

  She pushed herself to her feet. She’d been lying in the sand beneath a rock overhang. There was no sign of Hawk. Spotting a nearby cluster of shrubs, she stumbled to them and relieved herself before walking down to the edge of the sea. In spite of the fog and the darkening gray sky, it felt good to be out in the open air. Pulling off her boots, she stepped into the cold water and splashed her face to shake off her grogginess.

  “You’re awake. I’m glad.” At the sound of Hawk’s voice, she straightened up and watched him coming toward her. No shirt. No boots. His long brown hair danced in the wind. He looked magnificent, and she prayed this wasn’t another vision. “I was getting worried about you.”