Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy)

by May McGoldrick

  She didn’t want to go back to sleep. She wanted to experience again and again in her mind what had happened between them. But the rocking rhythm of the horse lulled her.

  A stirring deep in her belly made Kenna open her eyes. They were riding through a wooded glen and then out into the predawn light of rolling moorland. Patches of purple flowers covered the hillsides.

  Alexander’s hand was on her breast.

  Kenna leaned back against his chest, looking up at him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Enjoying myself and answering your demands.”

  “Demands?” She removed his hand. “While I sleep? We’ve exchanged no words since we left the camp.”

  “Your body spoke for you,” he whispered in her ear. “Nestling into my chest, running your hands along my thighs, making small noises in the back of your throat. I’m a man. There’s only so much I can take.”

  “You’re talking nonsense.” Kenna tried to shift her body, but she had nowhere to go.

  “You’re not helping.”

  “I’m not doing anything. This is all your imagination.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her firmly back against him. She could feel his arousal against the small of her back. A delicious heat rushed through her body, surprising her.

  “I know you feel that, and you’re responsible,” he said flatly. “So sit still or your first time will be up against a tree or on the hard ground with a heather branch stabbing in your ear and rocks jabbing you in the—”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t tempt me, wife.”

  The words didn’t frighten her. After last night, she was looking forward to their first real night of lovemaking, in spite of the vaguely alarming hints that the MacKay women had whispered in her ear about what happened in the marriage bed. She was feeling the same reckless impulse that she felt when faced with any adventure. Annulment or no annulment, she was ready for more. But they were on strange land. She would be happier in a secure place for that special moment, with at least a roof over their heads.

  Her gaze drifted up to her husband’s face again. The angry words they’d exchanged less than a week ago sounded so hollow now. If they stayed together and lived as man and wife, they’d have many arguments, to be sure. He was as pigheaded as she was.

  One thing, more than any other, made her uneasy: the broken tablet, her inheritance from her mother.

  Descending into a hollow in the moor, they were enclosed by a pocket of early morning mist. Kenna could see only a few paces in front of them, and it occurred to her that this was life. We only see a few paces ahead, if that. There was no telling what would come of her or Alexander or the stone tablet, and the gift and the curse that accompanied it.

  “About the questions that you were asking me before we were taken to the camp.”

  He looked into her face. “You’re a talented healer. I saw what you did for those people. I was . . . I am very proud of you. The nuns trained you well.”

  She shook her head. “But what I did for you . . . what happened in the fishing hut and later in the cave . . . I needed more than what I was taught.”

  She paused, looked down at her lap, trying to decide how much she should tell him now. They were on the road. He had enough on his mind to get them to reach safety.

  “Will you trust me?” she asked. “Will you wait until I understand better myself what happened there, before I tell you everything?”

  “You mean you don’t understand it yourself?”

  “I don’t understand all of it.” It was the truth. “Will you give me time? Trust me for now?”

  “You saved my life,” he reminded her. “Twice. I can wait.”

  That was all he said, and Kenna felt a weight lift off her for now.

  They continued to ride in and out of patches of mist, past unearthly rock formations, and over heather- and gorse-covered hills. As the land began to rise steadily, they entered more woods.

  Kenna looked around her in awe. The branches of ancient oak trees entwined into a canopy above them. As they rode through a clearing, she realized that the first rays of the sun were casting shadows in front of them.

  “We’re riding west,” she said. “We’re not going north. Aren’t we going to Oban?”

  “There’s a trap set for us there.”

  “A trap? How do you know?”

  “That priest. What kind of man doesn’t give last rites to the dead until it’s convenient for him? By ’sblood, I’ve seen many a priest with as fine a horse as this, but never one so willing to part with him. And the bloody weasel never even bickered on the price. Nay, there’s a trap set, no doubting it.”

  “He never went near the sick or injured while we were there,” Kenna told him. “I didn’t even know there was a priest with them until he came to see you.”

  “Also, he’s a Lowlander.”

  “And you think he’s working with Maxwell.”

  “He said a half dozen times before we left that the only safe place for us is Oban.”

  The fog in her head cleared. After everything they’d been through, to trust any stranger was foolish. She was relieved Alexander had been aware of it.

  As they rode on, they left the forest behind, and Kenna looked around at the unfamiliar terrain. Behind them lay the mercenaries pursuing them. Ahead of them and to the south was the coastline that Jock warned was crawling with English raiders. To the north lay Oban and a possible trap. They were being driven into the nets of their enemy.

  “Where are we going? Where can we hide?”

  Alexander didn’t answer.

  “Tell me.”

  “Where those bastards will not catch us.”

  The sun was still low in the sky behind them when he reined in and dismounted. She could see nothing but a series of rolling hills. Alexander reached up to help her down.

  Kenna hoped their destination was near. The shoes given to her by one of the women at the camp were too small and hurt her feet. She didn’t want to walk far. She slid off the back of the horse.

  Alexander stripped the gear from the mount and slapped the animal on the flank. The horse ran off, disappearing along the pathway leading north. She pulled her hair back and tied it into a knot. Shaking out her dress as if it weren’t torn in a dozen places and stained from waist to hem, she faced her husband.

  “Where do we go from here?”

  He took her hand and smiled, pulling her uphill through thick shrubs that caught and pulled at her skirts.

  “Any time now,” she told him. “Please feel free to tell me where we’re going.”

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps I’ll write a poem about that. I’ll call it ‘Soon Enough.’”

  She followed him, weaving through outcroppings of square black rock and thorny shrubs. No physical effort or discomfort, however, could erase the smile she felt had been branded on her heart. Looking at him ahead of her, Kenna could not help but admire the powerful width of his shoulders and the possessive hold he kept on her hand.

  As if reading her thoughts, he glanced back. “I never imagined you would be such a woman as this.”

  “Before I commit to this conversation, I want to know if you are insulting me or complimenting me.”

  “Complimenting, of course.”

  “Oh, of course. Well, you must know I’m not accustomed to hearing compliments from you. But go on—say nice things about me.”

  His laughter made Kenna’s insides go warm.

  “To begin, I don’t know many women who would make this journey without even a wee complaint.”

  “It’s a relief that you are so aged that you don’t recall all the complaining I did the first night you kidnapped us.”

  He waved that off. “Nay, I heard nothing unreasonable. And you’re as brave as you are bonny.”

  “Oh, aye, I’m feeling like a rare beauty right now. But I will accept your assertion that I’m brave.”

>   “Thank you, wife.”

  “Still, I think you’re a bit touched in the head. What were you doing picking a fight with those men outside the kirk? The day before, if you recall, you were nearly gutted like a pig.”

  “I had no choice, lass. They started it,” Alexander corrected it. “But back to you. Since our marriage, I’ve seen that your intelligence—”

  “Stop right there,” she ordered. “This is already sounding like an insult.”

  “Nay! How is that?”

  “I’m not brave and intelligent as a reaction to you. I am the same woman that I was long before I met you.”

  “Are you trying to say you had a life before meeting me?”

  “Aye, and I’ll have a life after, too, once I find a cliff high enough to push you over.”

  “How about this one? High enough?”

  Kenna gasped as they suddenly broke through the line of shrubs and came to a halt at the edge of a cliff. Jagged pillars of black rock dropped away below and the gray-green sea boiled at the bottom.

  She looked up and her breath caught in her chest. The sea and a long stretch of land across a broad strait spread out before them. Fishing boats, looking tiny in the distance, bobbed among the whitecaps. Almost directly across the firth, a ship lay at anchor.

  “What is this? Where are we?”

  “I told you—we’ve arrived.”

  “Arrived where? Is that one of your ships in the distance?”

  “Aye. The one MacDougall stole from us. The trade for Emily must have worked. I was hoping it would be here, though I feared we might be early.”

  “Will they come for us?”

  “Aye, lass. But judging from the wind and the tide, it’ll take them most of the day to get here. But they will.”

  Kenna looked around her. There were no buildings, nowhere for them to take shelter. The two of them seemed insignificant against the cliffs. “But we’re only a speck on top of this cliff. How will they even know that we’re here?”

  “You’re right.” Alexander’s face clouded over. “Our best course of action would be to swim out to them.”

  “That ship is too far from here! We’ll drown long before we reach them.”

  “We’ll not drown.” He stretched out a hand to her. “Come on; let’s get started.”

  She backed away and planted her feet. “You’re not doing that to me again. We’re not jumping. Did you see those rocks down there? We’ll never reach the water.”

  “Suit yourself, lass. But I’m reconsidering what I said about you being brave and uncomplaining.” With a shrug, Alexander stepped to the ledge and jumped.

  Kenna screamed and rushed to the edge. Dropping to her hands and knees, she peered wildly over the rocks. There, perched on a narrow ledge about twice his height from the top of the cliff, Alexander stood looking up at her.

  “Jump,” he said.

  Kenna eyed the space where she needed to land and, without a moment’s hesitation, dropped into his waiting arms.

  “Very well, Kenna MacKay. I’m convinced. You are brave.”

  “But we can forget about the ‘intelligent’ comments. I don’t believe I just did that.”

  Keeping a firm hold on her hand, Alexander led Kenna a short distance along the ledge, then dropped to his hands and knees and crawled through a low opening in the face of the cliff. Kenna followed him into the half-darkness of a cave. The damp, cool smell of earth filled her senses.

  As she stood up, Alexander pulled a flint from his sporran and proceeded to light a torch that was leaning against the wall of the cave. The narrow space lit up. As Kenna’s eyes adjusted, she saw that the cave sloped downward for a few paces beyond where Alexander was standing and then angled off.

  “Where are we?”

  “Sailor’s call it Hermit’s Rock. We’re south of Oban.”

  He took a pile of dry wood from an alcove and went to the cave mouth. In a few moments, he’d started a fire.

  “A signal?” she asked as he stood back. Smoke from the blaze billowed out.

  He nodded.

  “Won’t that give our whereabouts away to Maxwell and his men?”

  “The signal is only visible from the water. By now, either James or Diarmad is in command of that ship. They’ll see it and come for us.”

  “So you’ve done this before.”

  “This is one of many places we know to use in case of trouble.”

  “But what about those fishermen who attacked you at the camp?” she asked. “There are fishing boats out there. Won’t they know we’re here?”

  “The fire at the mouth of the cave is not only a Macpherson signal. Others will see it, but they won’t know what it means. My brother and Diarmad know we ran into trouble, or we’d have been in Oban yesterday or the day before. That’s why that ship is anchored there. They’re waiting for our signal. Now, I’m relying on them to be the first to reach us.”

  Kenna looked around the cold empty place and the passage leading into the darkness. The walls of the cave were squared-off blocks, as if they’d been hewn from black stone by an army of giants.

  “What do we do now?” She rubbed her arms. “Wait here? We still need to get down that cliff somehow.”

  “I told you that we’ve used this in the past. We won’t wait here.” He took her hand and led her toward the back of the cave. His torch threw wild shadows on the rugged walls. “But I’m hoping it will take them a very long time before they reach us.”

  The glint in his eyes made her stomach flutter. “Why?”

  “No more talking, lass. I’ll show you.”

  Chapter 16

  I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.

  “Is this a crypt of some kind?” Kenna asked, stopping and gesturing to a low opening in the cave wall. A thick oak door with a sheet of beaten metal stood open.

  The tunnels had taken them downward in a series of gradual steps, and she could feel heat emanating from the doorway.

  “Nay, they say this was where the hermit lived. Let me show you.”

  Alexander let go of her hand and ducked through, holding the torch up ahead of him.

  She passed through into the low, square, musty chamber. The room opened up, but there were no windows, no other doors. Alexander’s head brushed the low ceiling. Kenna’s attention was immediately drawn to two things: pictures etched into one of the walls and the heat.

  Some of the engraved images she could identify: whales and fish and birds and elk and trees and men with spears. Some were complex labyrinthine designs that she’d never seen before. In the center of one wall, she saw what appeared to be a cross.

  The heat in the chamber was intense, and Kenna had started sweating the moment she’d entered. The tablet hanging around her neck wasn’t easing her discomfort, either. The stone was hot against her skin.

  She reached out to touch the engraved cross . . . and pulled her hand back immediately.

  The pain was sharp and instantaneous, like putting a hand into fire. She recoiled, stepping back against Alexander’s chest.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, steadying her.

  “Nothing.” She hid her hand in the folds of her skirt. Talons of fear wrapped around her pounding heart. “Who made those drawings? What do they mean?”

  He went near them, reached up and traced a spiraling design with a finger. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows.”

  The tablet was becoming hotter, burning her skin through the pouch. The air in the chamber was heating up, as well, suffocating her with its heavy dryness. She realized she was sweating, but Alexander didn’t seem to notice the scorching temperature of the wall or the increasing heat of the air.

  There was something unsettling, something powerful, and she didn’t like it. Perhaps dark magic was at work here. On an opposite wall a generous supply of flints, candles, torches, blankets, and other things had been stored.

  Kenna moved toward the door of the chamber. She had to get out, get awa
y from whatever it was in that room that was responding to the tablet she carried.

  “We don’t need to wait here, do we?”

  “Nay, there’s more I want to show you.”

  Kenna practically ran out of the chamber ahead of Alexander. Outside, she leaned against the cold, damp wall of the dark tunnel. The heat started to subside. She could once again breathe. Alexander was still in the chamber. She heard him rummaging through the supplies.

  Kenna looked more closely at the heavy door. The metal sheet over the thick oak was covered with designs and images that were similar to the stone carvings inside.

  She hesitantly reached out to touch the door. Again, her hand burned. She stepped back.

  “So, finally, something that Kenna MacKay is afraid of.” Alexander came out of the chamber, carrying a few things under one arm and holding the torch high.

  “Not afraid,” she grumbled, looking away. “Maybe just a bit uneasy.”

  “Nay, this is a first. You’re frightened.” He laid the torch against the cave wall and lifted her chin until she was forced to look into his blue eyes. “What’s wrong, lass?”

  “I don’t like places like this. Crypts, dungeons, and such. Wee, tight places. I can’t breathe in them.” It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t like enclosed spaces.

  “That’s a good thing for me to remember, for all the times in the future when I have to punish you.”

  She snorted and pushed his hand away.

  “Just be warned, love. Benmore has many cellars and dungeons.”

  “You’re a blackguard, Alexander Macpherson. I see no humor in this.” Kenna turned around to go back the way they’d come, but he took her arm.

  “Not that way.”

  “Another crypt?” she asked.

  “Nay. You’ll like it where we are going. Trust me.”

  “‘Trust me,’ he says. Right after he tells me he plans to shackle me in Benmore’s dungeons. And why shouldn’t I trust you?”