Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  But when they reached the place in the tunnels below the castle where Kara was certain Harry had faced Dungald, he was not there.

  "I'm certain this was the place," she said, pressing her hand to her heart, feeling it thud. "Isla and I ran that way. The reiver, Robert the Red, came from that way." She pointed.

  Kara, Ian and the men stood where two passageways intersected, staring into the darkness of each arm of the tunnel.

  "Now what?" Kara whispered.

  "We search all the—"

  A sound made everyone turn toward one of the dark halls. The clansmen raised their swords. Ian threw one arm out, pushing Kara behind him. With the other he drew his sword.

  The sound came again. Something was running. Something small. "James!" Kara cried out in surprise as the monkey burst out of the darkness. She threw out her arms and the little creature leaped into them.

  "He has to be down here." Kara refused to let tears well in her eyes again as she cuddled Harry's frightened pet.

  Ian turned to the men. "We split up." He took a torch from one of the men. "Go by twos. One torch per party. Draw a line with your boot so you don't get lost. If you see anything, anyone, ye holler. Understood?"

  The men nodded.

  Ian turned to Kara. "Let's take the tunnel out. Mayhap he went after you."

  They followed the tunnel out of the catacombs and entered the copse of trees where Kara and Isla had mounted horses only a short time ago. The sky was dark overhead, with little moonlight. Smoke still filled the air with the acrid smell of burned pitch, but it was not as heavy as before.

  "Where is he?" Kara moaned. "And where is that bastard Dungald?"

  Ian turned to face her, lifting the torch. She could see his dirty face etched with worry.

  "Let me be certain I understand what happened. Dungald attacked Harry. But he let you go? If he was going to kill Harry, why would he let you live? You and Isla would be witnesses."

  She smoothed the monkey's head. Its entire body trembled in her arms. "That was the part about Robert the Red. Dungald said he was supposed to kill me. He ordered him to kill me, Isla as well."

  "You got away from the reiver?"

  "He led us out. I don't know why." Her gaze met Ian's. "But he set us free."

  Ian stood where he was and turned slowly, lifting his torch high. Suddenly he halted. Kara looked at him, then in the same direction. There was something lying in the grass.

  Someone.

  Kara stood frozen for a moment, then darted forward, dropping the monkey to the ground. Ian reached out to stop her, but she dodged out of his way.

  She fell on her knees in the grass. The ground was wet and cold.

  "Harry, sweet Harry," she gasped, her heart swelling with grief.

  Harry lay on his back, his eyes closed, his sword on the ground beside him.

  "Oh, sweet heaven," Ian moaned, falling to his knees beside Kara.

  She lifted Harry's head to her lap and brushed the blond hair from his handsome face. She had cut his hair only last week.

  He looked as if he were sleeping, could have been sleeping, had it not been for the bloody wound in his chest.

  "Harry," Ian croaked.

  Kara was too stricken for tears. She pulled Harry's head to her breast and rocked back and forth. Ian wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rocked with her.

  "Harry, Harry," she whispered.

  "Shhh," Ian soothed.

  "Dungald must not have struck him down," she said, her throat scratchy, her eyes stinging as she choked on her words. "Look, he made it above. Perhaps he fell fighting. Perhaps it is Dungald's body we shall find—"

  Ian rested his forehead against her shoulder. "Nae," he whispered, his voice as filled with emotion as she had ever heard. "Look at the grass, hinny. 'Tis a clear path. He was dragged here from down below."

  Kara's gaze met Ian's. In the torchlight she saw his brown eyes filled with tears. She had not known a warrior could cry.

  "Find him," she whispered from between clenched teeth. "Find that bastard Dungald and I will run him through myself."

  Chapter 26

  Ian ordered Harry's body to be carried into the great hall and laid upon the dais to be bathed and prepared for burial. Kara followed Ian and the men who carried Harry's body inside, still stunned beyond sensible reasoning.

  As he was carried into the hall his clansmen and the servants gasped and then fell into shocked silence. Some prayed, while others hung their heads in reverence as he was laid to rest on the table.

  "Has anyone seen Dungald?" Ian asked.

  Kara went to stand at Harry's head and sent someone for a Dunnane tartan to cover his body.

  No one had seen Dungald.

  "What of Alfred Gordon?" Ian barked. He no longer wept, but any man who looked closely would have known he had cried for his slain brother.

  The sound of shouting in the entranceway caught everyone's attention, and Kara looked up from the table where Harry lay.

  Alfred Gordon entered the hall, men behind him, leading Dungald. He was secured by a man on each arm.

  "This is preposterous," Dungald bellowed. "Unhand me! Don't you understand? I am your lord now. If the boy is dead, as you say, God rest him, I am the earl and I will not be treated thusly!"

  Kara flew across the room, reaching Dungald before Ian did. "You killed him!" she shouted, shaking a fist. "You killed my Harry."

  Dungald's first look was one of utter shock.

  Of course he was surprised. He'd thought her dead, too, hadn't he? He thought Robert the Red had killed her in the catacomb, as he'd ordered.

  The look on Dungald's face instantly changed from one of shock to feigned relief. He was a fine actor. "Kara! Thank God you're well."

  She rolled her fingers into a ball and swung, striking Harry's cousin in the side of the face.

  "Ouch!"

  "Kara." Ian came up behind her. "Let me deal with him."

  "You killed him," Kara accused through clenched teeth. She was so angry that the room was spinning.

  Everyone stared at her as if she was demented. No one yet knew how Harry had died. They all thought he'd been killed in the battle. That was what Dungald wanted them to think, of course.

  "Someone please bring the Lady Dunnane some water and a chair," Dungald said calmly, nursing his cheek. "She's overwrought. I believe she might faint."

  Kara felt Ian's hands close over her shoulders. "Kara, let me," he whispered. "I will deal with him." He sounded as angry as she did. Angrier.

  She swallowed back her tears. "You killed Harry," she said softly, meeting Dungald's gaze. "Tell them. We were in the catacombs and—"

  "The catacombs?" Dungald glanced up. "Why, God help me, that's where they found him?"

  "Not there," someone said. "Outside."

  Dungald's eyes narrowed. He was still being held by two of Alfred's men, but loosely. "How did you know he was there?"

  Everyone in the room—servants, Gordons—stared and listened.

  "How did you know that was where his body would be found?" Dungald repeated accusingly.

  Ian put himself between Kara and Dungald. "You are not in the position to be questioning anyone," he said flatly. But Kara would not let Ian take over. "Because I was there!" she spit, trying to get in front of Ian again. "I was there with him."

  A ripple of sound rose in the room as men put their heads together, trying to figure out what was happening.

  "Ian, I think this discussion should continue privately," Dungald said, looking past her. "The Lady Dunnane seems to know something of this, and yet she apparently made no attempt to get help for him." His eyes widened theatrically. "Please, madam, tell me you had nothing to do with the earl's death."

  "Me!" Kara could not believe what she was hearing. "You would dare accuse me when it was you who lifted the sword to my husband!"

  Dungald raised his palms heavenward, playing to the crowd. He was so damned handsome that it sickened her.

  "My lady,
you had best choose your words carefully so as not to incriminate yourself. We all heard you argue with his lordship."

  "What are you talking about?" she flared.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Ian echoed.

  Men were staring at her. Servants nodded.

  "We all heard you say you wished you had never wed him. One could construe that to mean..." He shrugged. "That you wished his lordship ill. Worse. To kill in the midst of a fight would be considered rather clever."

  Dungald was twisting what had happened that night, what she had said ages ago. How could he accuse her? She had seen him draw a sword against Harry with her own eyes.

  Her own eyes, Kara thought through her daze. No witnesses but her maid...

  "I said that ages ago," she shouted. "And I was overwrought. I didn't mean—"

  "Kara," Ian whispered fiercely in her ear. "Stay calm. Don't you see what he's doing?"

  She drew her lips tightly together. Suddenly she felt weak. Dizzy. Harry was dead and now this bastard might get away with it. He might put the blame on her.

  "Ian," she groaned, turning to him. She felt as if she were falling, falling into blackness from which she would never emerge. "Tell them what I told you. Tell them what he did."

  "Unhand me," Dungald said, and Alfred's men let go of him. Everyone seemed to be confused now.

  "I believe further investigation will be necessary," Dungald announced. "In the meantime, her ladyship should be held in her chamber... for her own safety."

  Men and women gasped. Kara knew what they had heard. A formal accusation was what Dungald meant. This was madness!

  Ian lifted his gaze to Dungald. "No, wait one moment, sir," his voice boomed. "Might you tell me where you were when the fighting commenced?"

  Dungald looked surprised. "Where I was?"

  "I did not stutter." Ian pushed Kara gently to the side so that he might face Dungald. "Where were you when the fighting began?"

  "I..." He blinked. "Why, I was just riding in. His lordship sent me to retrieve the patrol gone in search of the reivers. Thank God I returned in time. They had just laid siege upon the castle."

  "And then?" Kara asked bitterly. "Where did you go then?"

  "Where did I go, woman? I raised a sword to fight with the Gordons at the castle wall."

  "Liar!" She wiped away the tears that ran down her face. "You were in the catacombs."

  He looked her squarely in the eye. "And what proof have you of that?"

  Kara heard rather than saw Ian slide his sword from his belt. Dungald took a step back. "Put aside your sword! You may not raise a sword to the Earl of Dunnane," he spit.

  "You are not the earl," Ian shouted, as angry as she had ever heard him. "The child my lady carries, should he be male, is the new lord."

  Dungald's eyes narrowed. "And what if the wife is found guilty of murder?"

  Ian raised the tip of his sword beneath Dungald's nose. "Back to the subject of the catacombs. My lady says you were below."

  "She is a liar!" he shouted. "My word against hers, and who would corroborate the word of a greedy, vengeful wife?"

  "Me."

  Dungald turned slowly, his demeanor cocky as he looked to see who stood behind him. His face went suddenly ashen. His mouth moved, but no sound came out as the thief stood defiant before him.

  Everyone turned to see a red-haired, red-bearded man standing in the archway entrance to the great hall. Robert the Red, the cattle reiver.

  "He was there," Kara said loudly. "Robert the Red, the reiver, Dungald hired him to lead the attack. To kill me and my maid as well!"

  In one quick movement Ian pushed Kara back and lifted his sword. Dungald spun around, drawing his own weapon from his belt.

  Kara covered her ears with her hands as the swords struck and clanged, but she could not look away.

  "Mine," Dungald cried. "This should all have been mine. Not that snotty-nosed brat's!"

  Kara backed against the dais, where Harry's body lay, to give Ian room. She clutched her hands together, wishing desperately that she could do something to help him. By God, she wanted to kill Dungald herself.

  "You hired men to attack Dunnane!" Ian shouted, his voice thundering in the vaulted room. "You killed my brother. There are witnesses and now you will pay!"

  "Aye, I did it," Dungald confessed amid cries of surprise and anger among the clansmen. "But I did it for my father." Tears ran down his face as the weight of his sword brought his hands down. The hand with the palsy was shaking too greatly to bear the weapon. "So kill me. Kill me now. I don't want to live!"

  Ian lowered his sword. "I will not kill you now. I would not give you the honor of a quick death. Better to see you hanged in shame for your treachery," he said bitterly.

  "And then what?" Dungald's nose ran. The hand with the palsy was shaking so fiercely that he could no longer steady it. "You cannot have Dunnane. Not ever. You can't even have her because you are the dead boy's brother!"

  Kara saw Dungald lift his sword, but it took a moment for her to realize what he was doing. At first she thought he was going to strike at Ian again.

  Ian must have thought the same, because he made a move to lift his sword in defense.

  To Kara's shock, Dungald twisted the sword in his hands and thrust it into his stomach before Ian could reach him.

  "Nae!" Ian shouted, letting his own sword fall to the ground as he lunged forward to Dungald.

  Dungald fell to his knees, his leine chroich instantly covered in blood, dripping with blood.

  Ian went down on one knee. "Nae, nae," he whispered in pity, putting out his hands to catch Harry's cousin.

  Kara knew Dungald was dead before he fell into Ian's arms.

  Ian's head dropped onto Dungald's shoulder. The hall of clansmen stood in stunned silence, unable to tear their gazes from the two men on the floor.

  Kara covered her face with her hands and then was suddenly stricken with a pain in her abdomen. She must have cried out, because Ian turned to look over his shoulder at her.

  He came to her in an instant, leaving Dungald's body slumped on the floor. "What's wrong?"

  She shook her head, still in shock. She ran her hand over her belly. She felt a tightening. "A pain," she whispered. "I hope it's not the baby. 'Tis too soon."

  Ian swept her into his arms and pushed his way out of the great hall. Kara looped her arms around his neck and let her head fall to his shoulder, too spent to cry. Her lower lip trembled. "He's right, you know," she whispered. "What do we have?" She stared into his dark eyes. "We can still never have each other."

  * * *

  "Serves him right, dealing with a man like Robert the Red," Ian said quietly.

  He and Kara were in the great hall, seated before the fireplace, awaiting the arrival of Mother Anne. Clansmen wandered about aimlessly, their hearts as heavy as Kara's and Ian's. It seemed the young earl had gained a great deal of respect from his men in his last days. Harry's funeral would take place in the afternoon. "But surely Dungald never suspected Robert would betray him," Kara thought aloud. "What reason would he have had to think the thief would not do as he had bidden him? He had paid the man off, with the promise of greater sums once he was the earl."

  "I suppose Dungald thought coin could buy anything, including a man's conscience," Ian observed.

  "I am still amazed," she said softly, stroking her abdomen. After a few hours' rest the day of the attack, her pains had subsided and they had not returned. She was hopeful that she would carry the baby to full term. "Even knowing what happened, I can barely believe it to be true."

  "Amazed, aye, but it appears to have happened as Robert the Red explained. He agreed to take money for himself and others and then decided it was not what he wanted to do," Ian said. "He said it was because of you. Apparently Dungald had never mentioned that you had to die as well." His mouth twitched into a smile. "Apparently our Robert the Red was a thief and a murderer, but not a woman murderer." He winked. "I think he is sweet upon yo
u."

  She smiled. "I am certainly not sweet upon him, but I am glad you let him go. A man with such a conscience deserves another chance."

  The sound of barking dogs brought Kara and Ian out of their chairs before the stone fireplace.

  "Mother Anne," Kara said, holding out her hands to her mother-in-law as the woman approached, escorted by her priest.

  "Kara, love." Anne threw her arms around Kara and hugged her tightly. As she peered into Kara's face it was obvious she had been crying a great deal. "I'm so glad you're safe."

  Then she turned to her son and hugged him, too. "I came as quickly as I could," she said. "I've something of great importance to tell you."

  Ian released his mother, glancing at Kara. "Mother, whatever it is, surely it can wait until your son is buried."

  She twisted her small, pale hands adorned with gold rings. "Nae. Nae, it cannot wait, for that is the point."

  Kara stared at the beautiful older woman, utterly perplexed. "What is the point?"

  Anne lifted her voice so that anyone in the room who wished to hear her might. The Gordons quickly began to gather around.

  "Harry was not my son," she said softly. "Not Richard's."

  Kara's eyes widened. Richard was the previous Earl of Dunnane, Harry's father, who had passed the title on to his son upon his death.

  "Mother, what is this nonsense?" Ian asked sharply. "This is not the time—"

  "Hush and listen," Anne interrupted. "Let me say what I must whilst I have the courage." She took a breath, her gaze drifting from the faces of the men who surrounded her. "I am an evil woman. Once upon a time I did something terrible. Something done out of love, but not right. Then I vowed on the Virgin's name never to tell the truth. Not so long as Harailt Gordon lived."

  Kara began to tremble from the inside out. She felt Ian's hand slip into hers. Anyone who glanced down could have seen them, but he seemed not to care. Perhaps he had an inkling of what Anne was about to say.

  "Harailt was not my child, not even Richard's."

  Someone gasped.

  "Our child died, and because I wanted so badly to give him a son he could call his own, this man brought me another child." She indicated the old priest.