Highland Sanctuary

by Jennifer Hudson Taylor

  Highland

  Sanctuary

  Also by Jennifer Hudson Taylor

  Highland Blessings

  Highland

  Sanctuary

  Jennifer Hudson Taylor

  Highland Sanctuary

  Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Hudson Taylor

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4267-1421-4

  Published by Abingdon Press, P.O. Box 801, Nashville, TN 37202

  www.abingdonpress.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form,

  stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website,

  or transmitted in any form or by any means—digital,

  electronic, scanning, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without

  written permission from the publisher, except for brief

  quotations in printed reviews and articles.

  The persons and events portrayed in this work of fiction

  are the creations of the author, and any resemblance

  to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Published in association with the Hartline Literary Agency.

  Cover design by [TO COME],

  Nashville, TN

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Taylor, Jennifer Hudson.

  Highland sanctuary / Jennifer Hudson Taylor.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-4267-1421-4 (book—pbk./trade pbk., adhesive—perfect binding alk. paper)

  1. Heirs—Fiction. 2. Outcasts—Fiction. 3. Secrecy—Fiction. 4. Greed— Fiction. 5.Betrayal—Fiction. 6. Scotland—History—15th century—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3620.A9465H547 2011

  813'.6—dc22

  2011023829

  Scripture on page 7 is from the King James or Authorized Version of the Bible.

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 / 16 15 14 13 12 11

  To my sweet daughter, Celina,

  You make me so proud of all you've overcome

  and the young lady you're becoming.

  And to the wonderful Lord,

  Thank you for healing Celina from her seizures

  and wrapping her in your loving arms.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank so many people for their help and encouragement to make this dream of a novel into a reality. To Dwayne, my husband, thank you for not only reading this book once, but twice, to make sure my men characters aren't too sappy.

  To my beta readers, the Faith Girls, and HisWriters, thank you for your continued support, excellent historical wisdom, and encouragement.

  To my editor, thank you for taking the time to meet with me in-person to discuss the changes. It made a HUGE difference.

  To my agent, thank you for always believing in me.

  To those who created and maintain www.caithness.org, thank you for a wonderful site full historical details and information that led me to even more references.

  "Honour and majesty are before him: strength and beauty are in his sanctuary."

  Psalm 96:6

  1

  Scotland

  1457

  The ordeal over, fragmented tremors still quaked through Evelina Broderwick's body. She gazed down at her new daughter. Now, she'd finally have someone who would truly love her. Tiny fingers curled. Evelina marveled at the wee nails. The other hand tightened into a fist and flew into the bairn's mouth as she sucked on her knuckles.

  "She's beautiful, is she not?" Tears clouded Evelina's vision, overwhelming her by the magnitude of God's gift of life.

  Gunna, her wet nurse, peered closer at the babe swaddled in a warm blanket. "Aye, she is at that."

  "I believe I shall call her Serena after my Spanish grandmother. The lass has an English da and a Scottish mither—a mixture of noble blood from three countries."

  "Not a verra common name here in the lowlands," Gunna's round cheeks swelled in a smile as she nodded in agreement, "but lovely just the same."

  The bedchamber door swung open, casting dim light from the hallway candles. The shadow of a man's tall frame bounced on the dark pine walls. Evelina tensed as her husband, Devlin Broderwick, strode in with his usual frown. A dent marred his forehead. He towered over the bedside.

  The midwife followed him and stood at the foot of the bed, folding her hands in front of her. The woman appeared to be in her mid-fifties, personally chosen by Devlin and quite loyal to the Broderwick family. Her dark gaze traveled from Evelina to Gunna and down at the infant.

  "I've heard the unfortunate news." Devlin's sharp tone cut through the room like a blade through a gentle lamb.

  Was a lass so terrible? Evelina glanced at the only window on the far right. The shutters were closed, blocking the night sky from view. She would like naught more than to escape the confines of her marriage, even if it meant taking sanctuary behind the walls of a convent for the rest of her days.

  Devlin cleared his throat. He wore a black tunic with blooming sleeves narrowing at the cuffs. Black suited his dark moods. His hair hung straight in the shape of a downward bowl. He crossed his arms, taking an authoritative stance. "Fortunately, you're still young and healthy. You can try again when you're well enough."

  Evelina stayed her tongue. Over the last eleven months of their marriage, she had come to despise him. She had tried to love him, tried to win his affection, but he had been most impossible to please. No wonder her kinsmen hated the English. He had wounded her feelings more times than she cared to count. She'd begun to resent her parents for arranging this union and forcing her into a lifetime of sorrow.

  "I'll love her." Evelina held her daughter against her bosom. She stared at the wine-colored blanket covering her bed, tracing a finger along the raised flower pattern stitched into the thick fabric, a gift from Devlin's mother.

  "I'm sure you will." He pointed at their daughter. "Now lay her down so I can see her."

  Cradling her child's unsteady head, Evelina lowered Serena onto her back. She unwrapped the white blanket from her squirming body. Devlin leaned close.

  The bairn's rosy glow turned red then deepened to a shade of purple. Serena's head twisted at the nape, her face almost level with the bed. The child's eyes glazed over, twitching into the corners, only the whites visible.

  "What's the meaning of this?" Devlin jumped back in alarm.

  Though Serena's entire body had grown stiff, it quivered in spasms. The area around her lips faded to white and the rest of her skin melted from purple to an ashen gray.

  "She's not breathing!" Evelina turned to the midwife. "Do something!"

  "I deliver wee bairns. I don't cast out demons." The midwife's fearful eyes met hers.

  Evelina gripped her husband's arm, but he pulled away. "Devlin, please do something. She's stopped breathing! Save her, please?"

  He only stared at the helpless babe with disbelieving eyes.

  Evelina reached for her daughter's seizing body. Not knowing what else to do, Evelina turned the child over on her stomach and patted her back. She willed her babe to breathe. She blew air in Serena's face, hoping to startle her into breathing. White foam leaked over Serena's colorless lips. Evelina laid her down and plunged her finger into the tiny mouth, pulling with all her might against the curled tongue. Serena coughed, moaned, and screamed into a blessed cry.

  "Oh, thank God!" Evelina collapsed, lowering her head next to Serena and letting silent tears fall in relief. Their wee bairn would live.

  Evelina kissed the thin layer of soft black hair on Serena's round head. Her tiny lungs panted for air as her breathing returned to normal. She touched Serena's sweet ears, her pug nose, and cheeks now gaining a rosy glow.


  "What was that?" Devlin's voice flayed her nerves and she jumped. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the child in disbelief, his dark, condemning eyes narrowed.

  "The babe was having some sort of fit," the midwife said. "I've heard of stories like this, but never seen one myself."

  "Yes, I can see that. I want to know why!" Devlin took two menacing steps toward her.

  "'Tis unexplained." She stepped back, tilted her head upon her shoulders, and looked up at him with wide eyes. "No one really knows what it is. Some call it the falling sickness."

  Devlin paced across the chamber, rubbing the back of his head. The soles of his mid-calf leather boots clicked against the hardwood floor. "Why would a child have such a fit? How can ye stop it?"

  "I don't know." The midwife shook her head and sank against the wall.

  His gaze dropped to the bundle in Evelina's arms. "It's possessed." His lips twisted in thought. He paced again. "We'll call a priest to cast it out." He paused and shook his head. "No, we can't do that. How would it look if the Broderwick family produced a demon possessed child?" He shook his head. "I won't have the family name ruined." He turned and pointed at the midwife and Gunna. "No one had better speak a word outside this bedchamber. If you do, I'll make you sorry."

  "I won't say a word," the midwife said, shaking her head.

  "Aye, my lord," Gunna said, looking down at her feet.

  "She isn't possessed," Evelina said, her heart pounding in worry. "She stopped breathing and nearly died."

  Devlin strode toward her. He pressed his fists into the soft feather mattress and leaned foward. "There's no other explanation."

  "Devlin, ye're mistaken. She couldn't catch her breath is all."

  "Then why did she turn her head as if it would disconnect from her body of its own accord? Where did her eyes go? In the back of her head? What was coming from her mouth? Do ye call it somethin' from God?" He stepped back. "This isn't the work of God. I feel it in my soul. Something is wrong. As head of this household it's my responsibility to take care of it."

  "Our child is not evil." Evelina moved Serena over her shoulder and patted her bottom.

  "I make the final decisions in this house." Devlin's dark eyebrows knitted together in an angry line. "She may look normal now, but her body is possessed by somethin'. I'll not tolerate evil under my own roof. Do you hear me, woman?"

  "Devlin, listen to yerself. She's our child." Evelina clutched the bundle in her arms, fear rooted in her heart. Was he completely mad?

  "I saw the babe turn into a demon with my own eyes. I won't claim it as mine. I've made up my mind. I don't want it, and I forbid ye to keep it."

  "I won't give her up!" Evelina moved Serena to the far side of her body away from him. "She's my bairn, not some animal to cast away."

  "You're my wife, and you'll do as I tell you." He stepped toward her, grabbing for the child.

  Evelina refused to relinquish her hold. Their daughter began to cry at their tug of war. He tightened his grip on Evelina's flesh until she could no longer feel. Fearing Serena would be hurt from their struggle, Evelina relented. He snatched Serena.

  "I beg ye, don't take her away." Tears clogged Evelina's voice, choking her.

  He strode from the chamber with Serena. The midwife made a "humph" sound and followed him.

  Evelina tried to rise. In her weakened state, she fell to the floor.

  "Oh, dearie me!" Gunna cried, hurrying around the bed to help her.

  Evelina had forgotten Gunna was still in the room. Frantic hands pulled under Evelina's arms, trying to lift her as she struggled to her knees.

  "Nay! Don't bother with me. Find out where he's taking her." Evelina nudged her.

  "But—''

  "Please? Do this one thing for me." Evelina sniffed back tears. "Go! Make haste before it's too late."

  "I-I'll do as ye ask. Don't ye worry, lass. We'll save yer bairn." She fled the chamber, leaving Evelina alone in her anguish.

  Evelina dropped her head upon her arms. Her eyelids fluttered shut. "Dear God," she whispered. "I dedicate Serena to Ye. She isn't evil. She's just the way Ye made her. Allow me to be her mither and I'll teach her Yer ways and raise her to be Yer child."

  The room began to spin. Evelina clutched the bed linens for support. Darkness claimed her vision as the distant sounds of her child crying in another part of the house fell silent. "Please . . . God," she whispered, fading to unconsciousness.

  Scotland 1477

  Gavin MacKenzie and Leith, his brother, led fifty clansmen along the narrow dirt path, two men abreast, their conversation a gentle rhythm above the steady clip-clop of horses. The comfortable late-spring air made it a good day to travel.

  Something moved ahead. From this distance it looked like a horse pulling a wagon. The sound of weeping reached his ears and then faded. Had he imagined it? He motioned to the men to be quiet. Their voices dropped to whispers before altogether silencing.

  Sholto, his horse, grew restless and sidestepped. Gavin grabbed the reins with both hands. The animal snorted in obvious distress. To calm the beast, Gavin rubbed his mount's neck until his breathing evened and his gait steadied. Gavin's red and gray plaid fell over his right shoulder. Shoving it out of his way, he studied the layout of the land, looking for signs of a surprise attack.

  They'd travelled for days, leaving the familiar glens and rolling moors with a sheltered forest for the flat peatland surrounding them in Scotland's northern tip of Caithness. With no place to hide, the element of surprise was not in their favor. The light wind carried the scent of the bog myrtle across the silver lochs. Purple heather dotted the land, its sweet scent mixing with the salty sea air. By this, Gavin knew they must be getting close to Braigh Castle. He was told it stood alone on the moss-covered rocky cliffs facing the sea—like a sanctuary.

  The wagon up ahead moved. Gavin gripped the reins tight and hastened his mount. As he drew closer, a skittish horse hitched to a heavy laden wagon flung his tail in vexation. The animal neighed and pranced about as much as the load allowed.

  More weeping carried from the opposite side of the wagon. Gavin motioned for his men to halt. He nodded toward Leith who dismounted and went to calm the beast. Gavin inched toward the noise.

  A woman with a long braid of auburn hair streaked with gray bent over a lass lying on her back. He couldn't see much of the one lying down, but the weeping one wore a dark blue gown. She patted her unresponsive companion, speaking in a hushed, worried tone.

  He cleared his throat, reining in his horse and sliding to the ground.

  She gasped and turned a frightened expression toward him.

  "What happened?" He nodded toward the unconscious lady lying in a bed of thick grass.

  Her moss-green eyes watched him, assessing his character. She wiped at the tears staining her cheeks. "We must have hit somethin'. The wagon nearly tipped over. She fell from her seat and hit her head."

  Gavin bent to his knees, surveying the unmoving lass and felt for a pulse in her neck. It beat steady. Her skin was warm and smooth. She was much younger than her concerned friend. "Have ye checked her head for bleeding?"