“Morag, why couldn’t you be happy just watching?” asked Willow. “You always cause trouble.”
“Stop it. All of ye.” Fia held her hands up, palms facing out. “No one killed Imanie.” She said the words to calm her sister and cousins but, down deep, she couldn’t be sure the Scot hadn’t really killed her after all. “Imanie was rubbin’ her chest which tells me she had heart problems. I saw her do it before she sent us away. My guess is that she kent she was goin’ to die. That is why she gave the brooch to Morag.”
“Oh, Fia, do ye think so?” asked Morag, tears dripping down her cheeks.
“Come here – all of ye.” Fia gathered the girls in a circle and gave them one big hug. They all cried together for the death of Imanie. “We need to be strong,” stated Fia. “After all, isna that what Imanie has been teachin’ us to do for years now?”
“But what about Imanie?” asked Maira. “What did you do with her body?”
“Alastair was goin’ to bury her for me in a deal we made. I sewed up his wound, and he was goin to help me in return.”
“Alastair?” Maira raised a brow. “You are calling him by his first name now as if you know him.”
“I do ken him. Now,” added Fia.
“So, is she buried or still lying there for the ravens to peck out her eyes?” asked Willow.
Morag sobbed bitterly when she heard this. Fia pulled her sister to her in a protective hug.
“Willow, ye are so insensitive sometimes,” snapped Fia.
“Well, what’s the answer?” asked Willow.
“I dinna ken.”
“What do you mean?” Maira picked up her sword and started polishing it.
“I didna want to stay there because I wasna sure if I was safe, so I left.”
“You should never have gone there in the first place,” scolded Willow.
“I had to do it.” Fia shook her head. “I wanted to find out if Imanie was all right and I also went back to find this.” She reached into her pocket for her bracelet but once again, found it missing. She frantically checked her other pocket, but her hand came up empty. “My bracelet! I must have dropped it again when I ran from the garden when the Highlander closed his eyes.”
“Fia, what is the matter with you lately?” asked Maira. “You are the one who never misses anything. How can you have lost a bracelet twice now and not even realize you dropped it?”
“I dinna ken,” said Fia, feeling so rattled every time she heard about the Highland clan. And now, after meeting Alastair and being alone with him in the cottage, she felt confused. Seeing his bare chest put ideas in her head and she couldn’t get him off of her mind.
“We should tell Lord Beaufort,” suggested Willow. “It is the right thing to do.”
“Nay!” Fia released her sister and put her hands on her hips. “No one will mention a word of this to anyone. Alastair is hidin’ in the secret garden and is wounded. We will tell no one. Do ye all understand?”
“Fia, have you lost your mind?” Maira raised her sword in the air and waved it around. “He is the enemy, or did you forget that?”
“I dinna believe he is like the rest of his clan,” said Fia. “After all, he saved my life three years ago. He didna hurt me today either.”
“What do ye plan on doin’ about it?” asked Morag.
“There is nothing we can do,” said Willow. “Lord Beaufort will be scouring the woods now looking for the dead. He might even find the secret garden.”
“Nay. I canna let him find the garden or Alastair.” Fia paced the room.
“You can’t stop him,” said Maira. “Face it, Fia, our days of sneaking off and meeting Imanie in the secret garden are over. Now that she is dead, there is nothing there for us anymore.”
“I guess no’,” said Fia, fingering the heart brooch, wondering how to be strong in this situation. “But we have to make sure Imanie’s body is buried. We at least owe her that for all she’s done for us. I willna let her rot in the sun and be eaten by the animals of the forest.”
“How are ye goin’ to find out if she is buried or no’ if ye are no’ goin’ to tell Lord Beaufort?” asked Morag.
“There’s only one way to ken.”
“Fia, I hope you are not thinking of doing anything foolish.” Maira slid her sword into her scabbard.
“Foolish, nay. Brave, yes.” Fia held her hand over the heart brooch. “Ye are all members of the Followers of the Secret Heart. I am ashamed ye are goin’ to just turn yer heads and look the other way when Imanie needs us now more than ever. We have to do this for her, no matter how frightenin’ it may seem.”
The girls were silent, all holding their hands atop their heart brooches as well.
“What should we do?” asked Willow.
“There is only one thing we can do, but we are goin’ to have to work together to do it without bein’ caught.” Fia walked over to look out the window, devising her plan.
“Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say,” whined Willow.
“We have to go back to the secret garden to make sure Imanie has been buried, and to pay our last respects,” Fia told them. “Now, are ye all in or am I goin’ to do this by myself? And please remember that there is nothin’ ye can do or say to stop me.”
“I’m going with you,” said Maira, standing and strapping on her sword. “If anyone gives you trouble, I’ll have my blade to protect us.”
“Perhaps we should take a man with us,” said Willow, always thinking about men.
“Nay,” protested Fia. “Alastair didna even want ye three to come to the garden.”
“Then let’s ask Branton,” suggested Maira. “We can trust that he won’t say anything. Plus, he can help us get away from the castle without being questioned. And if we get into trouble, he knows how to use a sword.”
“Fine,” agreed Fia. “But ye will all wait outside the garden. I will enter alone to see how Alastair will react.”
Alastair threw the last shovel of dirt atop Imanie’s grave, glad this chore was finished. It was a lot harder than he thought, trying to dig a grave and move a body when his side hurt like the devil and burned like the fires of hell. The sun was high and the day was hot. He felt as if he needed a drink of ale and some shade.
With his plaid covering his waist, he left his chest bare. The sun beating down atop his head was starting to make him feel faint. He needed water and had to get to the creek as soon as possible. Turning to make his way back to the cottage, a sharp pain shot through his side and his vision became blurred. With another step, he stumbled. Then the world went dark all around him.
Fia slid off her horse, placing her hand on the old wooden gate. Her sister, cousins, and Branton were mounted on horses behind her. They had waited until the afternoon to come here since Lord Beaufort and his men had been in the woods collecting the dead bodies most of the day. The sun was hot, and Fia couldn’t help thinking that if Imanie’s body was still lying on the porch, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“Stay here,” she whispered. “I will let ye ken if it is all right to enter.”
“Enter? What are you talking about?” asked Branton. “All I see is a lot of vines covering the hill.”
“It’s a secret,” said Morag, holding her finger to her mouth. “Ye canna tell anyone, Branton.”
“That’s right,” Maira answered with force. “If you do, you will have to deal with me.” To add to her warning, she rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.
“Lady Maira, you don’t scare me,” said the boy with a grin. “I’ve been in the midst of a battle now. I’ll have you know I killed a Scot and stole this horse from him as well.” He reached forward from his mounted position, rubbing his hand over the horse’s neck.
“Quiet,” Fia said again, feeling a knot forming in her stomach. She gingerly pushed open the gate and took a step inside. Her focus was only on the cottage, trying to see if Imanie’s body was still there. When she couldn’t find it, she scanned the rest of the g
arden. Then she saw a fresh grave as well as Alastair’s body lying prone on the ground. “Alastair,” she called out, rushing forward, falling to her knees. She flipped him over and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard him moan.
“Fia? Are you all right?” Maira shouted from the gate.
“Get in here, all of ye,” Fia commanded. “We have to get him out of the sun and into the house.”
The rest of the girls and Branton rushed up to help her.
“I’m the strongest, let me carry him,” said Branton. Just as he bent over to help, Alastair’s eyes opened. The Scot’s hands shot up in the air and grabbed Branton around the throat.
“Ye bastard, ye are the one who did this to me,” shouted Alastair, tightening his hands around Branton’s neck. “What did ye do with my horse?”
“Let him go,” shouted Fia, trying to pull his hands off of Branton.
“Out of the way,” said Maira, holding out the tip of her sword, just under Alastair’s throat. “Put him down, or I’ll run you through with my blade.”
“Och, ye are naught but a bunch of lassies and a scrawny lad.” Alastair released Branton, throwing him down on the ground. The boy gasped for air and jumped to his feet, drawing his sword and holding it up to Alastair as well. “I dinna have time for this,” spat Alastair. In one motion, he’d not only drawn his sword but also knocked the swords out of both Maira’s and Branton’s hands. “Now, bring me my horse, lad, and dinna tarry.”
Branton ran for the Scot’s horse while the girls stood at the end of his blade, not sure what to do.
“Here’s your steed,” said Branton, handing it over. Alastair turned his back to Fia as he started to mount his horse. Fia took advantage of the situation by bending down and picking up Branton’s sword. She didn’t want to hurt Alastair, but neither did she want him to leave. Swinging the hilt of the sword at him, she walloped him in the back of the head, knocking him out.
“Bluidy hell,” grumbled Alastair feeling like he’d been run over by a horse that stomped on his head. He opened his eyes to find his hands and legs tied with rope as he sat on a chair in the cottage. In front of him, the four girls and the lad who stabbed him stood watching with wide eyes. Both the boy and the girl with the strawberry-blond hair held their swords pointed right at him. His sword and weapon belt had been removed and were on the table on the other side of the room. “What did ye do that for, Fia?” He wanted to touch the back of his throbbing head but wasn’t able to move his arms.
“I didna want ye to leave before I had the chance to thank ye for buryin’ Imanie,” Fia told him.
“If that’s the way ye thank someone, I will never do a favor for ye again. There was no need to knock me over the head and tie me up.”
“You just about strangled poor Branton,” Maira snapped. “That is reason enough.”
“Reason enough?” Alastair’s eyes opened wide in disbelief. “The lad tried to kill me and stole my horse.”
“Aye, I did do that,” said Branton sheepishly. “But his clan was trying to kill us, so it was done in self-defense.”
“Next time ye stab a man in the side and steal his horse, be sure to finish him off,” growled Alastair. “If no’, ye are always goin’ to be lookin’ over yer shoulder because he is goin’ to come for ye, I promise. Ye’d be wise to remember that.”
The tip of Branton’s sword lowered. He swallowed forcefully. “I – I have never killed a man before,” he admitted.
“And ye still havena,” Alastair pointed out. “Now untie me, anon.”
“No’ until ye promise no’ to hurt Branton,” said Fia.
“Or us,” added Willow.
“Fine, I promise. Now, untie me.”
“Dinna do it,” warned Morag shaking her head furiously. “He is no’ to be trusted.”
“He did bury Imanie, just like he promised,” Fia reminded her. The girls seemed to consider the situation. “What do ye all think?”
“Don’t untie him, or he’ll come for me,” said Branton, sounding very scared.
“I said I wouldna, so ye have no reason to fear me,” Alastair told the boy.
“How can we trust you?” asked Willow, giving him the evil eye.
Alastair looked at one girl after another, and his gaze stopped on the young lad they called Branton. He wanted to kill him for what he’d done, that wasn’t a lie. Usually, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill any man who wounded him and stole his horse. But this boy was a lad no older than about four and ten years of age. He wasn’t even old enough yet to know how to handle a sword, let alone hold it correctly with one hand. Alastair remembered when he was that age. It was the first time he’d killed a man, going to battle with his father and his clan. He was as frightened as Branton looked right now. It wasn’t a good feeling at all, but he got numb to it over time.
“I gave ye my word, and I willna break it.”
“I believe him,” said Fia with a satisfied nod. “He promised to bury Imanie, and he did just that when he could have verra well left on her horse.”
He almost did leave, but they didn’t need to know that. Part of him was glad he had honored their agreement, but now he started to wonder if he should have left and never even looked back. If so, he wouldn’t be in this position right now.
After much deliberation, Fia talked the group into agreeing with her. “We’ll untie ye, but first we will pay our last respects to Imanie,” she announced.
The small group made their way to the old woman’s gravesite, talking amongst themselves.
“I still don’t like the idea of setting a Highlander free,” complained Branton. “Especially since I was the one who wounded him and stole his horse. We need to tell Lord Beaufort he’s hiding here.”
“Nay!” Fia didn’t want that to happen. “Alastair kept his word. Now we must keep ours.”
“Fia, he’s the enemy,” Willow said, stressing the word enemy.
“Aye. A wounded enemy who moments ago wanted to take off my head,” Branton added. “What is this secret garden anyway and how come no one knows about it?”
“Ye canna tell anyone,” said Morag. “It is where Imanie trained my sister and cousins and where she met in secret with other members of the group.”
“What group?” asked Branton in confusion.
“Morag!” Fia scolded. “Ye werena supposed to tell him that. Now, no more.”
“What difference does it make now that Imanie is dead?” asked Willow. “We’ll probably never come to this garden again after today, anyway.”
“I’ll miss comin’ here, and I am goin’ to miss Imanie.” Fia knelt down, paying her respects to their departed friend.
“So will I,” said Maira. “I had so much more to learn.”
After a few moments of silence, the group headed back to the cottage. When they walked in, Fia stopped dead in her tracks. The chair was empty, and the ropes that had bound Alastair were lying in a pile on the floor. Her eyes shot over to the table. His weapon belt and sword were gone as well. They had been careless and because of it, he had escaped.
“He’s gone!” shouted Maira, pulling her sword from the scabbard at her side, holding it with two hands and turning to look around the room.
“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted him.” Branton’s sword was at the ready as well.
“Where is he?” asked Willow.
A horse neighed loudly from outside. They all ran to the door to see Alastair atop his steed, leaving the secret garden without looking back.
“Well, I guess that’s the end of that,” said Maira, sliding her sword into the sheath on her back. “He’s probably on his way back to Scotland right now.”
“I dinna think so.” Fia noticed that Alastair didn’t turn right when he left the garden, but instead went left, heading down the road that led back to the castle. The only reason he would go that way was to try to help his clansmen escape from the dungeon of Rothbury. She should probably tell the others or at least let the earl know, but something made her keep
it a secret instead.
“Where do ye think he went?” asked Morag.
“It doesna matter.” Fia didn’t want them to alert Lord Beaufort that Alastair was heading to the castle. If Beaufort knew, he would watch for Alastair and kill him when he arrived. “Imanie is gone now and so is Alastair. We need to keep this to ourselves and put it all behind us.”
As they exited the secret garden, Fia left behind a good friend in Imanie, and a man who she found very intriguing in Alastair. Imanie was gone forever. But something deep down made her feel as if this wasn’t the last she’d seen of Laird Alastair MacPherson.
Chapter 6
Alastair rode toward the castle, meaning to free the other clan members. Then he realized that in his condition, he would never be able to do it alone. Instead, he turned and headed through the woods in a hurry, making his way toward the border. After a short while, he heard a twig snap from up ahead and slowed his horse. This was the spot where he’d instructed the rest of his clan to go. He only hoped they were still in the woods and not already heading back to the Highlands without him.
“Clan MacPherson, it is yer chieftain, Alastair,” he called out, taking the chance that they were hiding nearby. As he suspected, one by one, his clan emerged from the thicket.
“My laird, ye are alive,” shouted Niven, running toward him, followed by more men on foot and others on horseback. “We thought we’d lost ye in the battle, but couldna find yer body.”
“Nay, I’m alive but a little worse for wear. What is the death toll of our clan?” he asked.
“We lost six men,” announced Earc, one of the members who had never wavered from following Alastair’s instructions.
“Aye,” added Fearchar, another of his most loyal warriors. “We buried them in the woods and kept lookin’ for ye. One of the men said he saw ye struck down, but that ye werena taken prisoner.”
Highland Secrets Page 8
