A Highlander of Her Own

by Melissa Mayhue

  He shrugged and nodded, almost as if to himself. “Either way, it’s good news. They both deserve their happiness.”

  “But Caden MacAlister deserves none of his own, is that the right of it?”

  In response his jaw tightened, the muscles clenching in the stubborn sign so familiar to her. There would be no discussing anything with him now.

  “We’ve no secrets between us, Mother. You ken as well as I why I’ve made the choices I have. It’s for the good of the family, the good of Dun Ard. I’ve no a single doubt it’s what fate intended for me.”

  “You canna carry the weight of the world on yer shoulders forever, lad.” They’d had this same argument so many times.

  “It’s no the world, Mother, only my own wee piece of it.” He kissed the top of her head and disappeared back into Blane’s solar.

  Poor Caden. He wrapped his burden of guilt around himself like the plaid he wore. In truth, that burden should be hers, not her son’s. After Duncan’s death she should have been stronger, but she hadn’t been. She’d placed too much responsibility on the shoulders of her eldest child. A lad of ten should be carefree, not burdened with a mother consumed by grief.

  The betrothal to Alycie was her doing, too. And though Caden blamed himself for not recognizing Alycie’s unhappiness, she was the one in day-to-day contact with the girl. She more than her son should bear the responsibility for not having seen the girl’s desperation and all that came after.

  “What’s done is done. There’s no good to come of dwelling on the past.”

  Shaking her head, she turned and headed down the hall. Of all her sons, Caden was most like his father. He held himself responsible for everyone. And though he believed in the magic of the Fae, he saw only the risks, not the rewards, of his heritage.

  Perhaps the future would alter that perception.

  Rosalyn slipped out the door of the keep and into the dark, her feet sure in their destination.

  In spite of her troubles, a chuckle bubbled to her lips as she strolled through the evening into her garden. She pulled her plaid tightly about her shoulders to ward off the chill and made her way to her favorite little wooden bench. The one she had brought with her from the garden at Sithean Fardach when she had moved here all those years ago.

  Sitting down, she followed her normal ritual, running her fingers over the smooth letters carved into the underside of the wood. She had no need to see them; she knew them by heart.

  For my beloved.

  The seat Duncan had built for her with his own two hands.

  “Have you been watching, my love?” she whispered to the stars. “I kenned she was the one from the first moment I laid eyes upon her. And I was right.”

  She closed her eyes and imagined her beloved Duncan by her side as she did each night, confiding in him as she always had. A short talk each evening, sharing the problems and joys of the day. Lately there had been so many worries to share. Now, at last, something good.

  “They’re yer sons for a fact, Duncan MacAlister, refusing to love, needing to be pushed into it, each and every one of them. And they’re fair testing my patience and my promise to you not to interfere in their lives with my magic.” She rose to her feet, brushing her fingertips to her lips and sending a kiss to the heavens. “I remember. A promise is a promise. Good night for now, my love.”

  She walked a few steps toward the keep and stopped, once again turning her face up to the stars. “But they’re my sons, too, with the blood of the Fae running through their bodies. And a true Fae deserves true love.”

  And thanks to the bonnie dark-haired lass upstairs, one of them would have it. Best of all, she hadn’t had to break her promise to Duncan by touching her own gift of magic to make it happen.

  Now if the Fae could only see their way clear to bringing the missing men of her family home safely, she would be one very thankful woman indeed.

  Eight

  “I demand to see my cousin at once.”

  Blane MacKiernan straightened to his full height as he spoke, rubbing the wrists that had only now been cut free of their binding by the guards who stood on either side of him. He wouldn’t allow his enemies to see him as weak, regardless of his position.

  The men behind the table on the dais laughed and banged their tankards against the wood, quieting only when one rose to his feet. He was a tall, lanky man, dressed in the fine clothing of a lord. His expression of contempt was as visible as the graying beard he wore trimmed to a point. This would be the man who held Colin hostage awaiting payment of the ransom.

  Austyn Wodeford.

  As they had neared Wode Castle, Blane and the three men who traveled with him had been surrounded by a party of twenty armed warriors. He had held his men in check under the assumption they would be escorted to this man, where they would hand over the ransom and collect Colin.

  They’d been escorted, all right. After having their weapons taken and their hands bound behind them. Blane hadn’t seen his men since they’d entered the bailey.

  “I dinna believe yer in any position to be making demands, MacKiernan. If I were you—”

  “If you were me,” Blane interrupted, “you’d no have been dragged into the great hall of my home with yer hands bound. It’s a gentlemen’s agreement I’m here to settle.”

  Wodeford laughed and the others joined in, once again quieting when he picked up his tankard and loudly banged it to the massive table.

  “There’s nothing gentlemanly about our meeting, MacKiernan. The king has given us the right to hold for ransom any who fought against him in lieu of taking their lives. It’s purely business to me.”

  “Business, is it? I’ve come to pay yer damned ransom in exchange for my cousin’s freedom. And yet you take the men who ride with me. Bind me to bring me to yer hall. Is this the way you conduct business at Wode Castle? You and yer king.”

  Wodeford grabbed up a small sack that lay on the table in front of him. A sack Blane recognized.

  The silver he had brought to pay for Colin’s release.

  “Is it this you refer to as a ransom?” Wodeford asked as he moved close. “This paltry bit of silver you carried with you? I’m doubting King Edward would consider this sufficient to release a man who had taken the lives of his own soldiers.”

  “It’s exactly what you asked for.” Blane stared into the eyes of his captor. He knew he walked a fine line.

  “Aye, so it is. But that was before the Laird of the MacKiernan himself came down from the hills to deliver it. I’m thinking yer return to yer family is worth easily twice as much.”

  Blane reined in his instincts to strike out. It would do his cousin no good.

  “Has yer king approved kidnapping as well, you greedy bastard?”

  In answer Wodeford swung, the full strength of his hand and the weight of the coins he held connecting to the side of Blane’s head.

  The blow sent Blane reeling and he stumbled to one knee, his head bowed with the pain shooting through his entire face. He would not fall to the ground, would not lose consciousness, would not give his adversary the satisfaction.

  Through the ringing in his ears, he clearly heard a gasp, and an instant later, a soft cloth wiped across his face. He looked up to find himself staring into the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever imagined.

  “Catriona! What do you think yer doing? You’ve no business in the hall. Get out of here.” Though Wodeford’s voice did not rise, there was no mistaking the menace there.

  “You’ve hurt him, Austyn. There’s no a need for that. The man’s the MacKiernan laird. You’ve no a right to treat him so.”

  Catriona knelt next to him, one delicate hand lying on the back of his neck. He watched her—a woman, not a girl—her soft brown hair liberally laced with gray. Beauty in her spirit as well as in her face.

  “Right?” Wodeford ground out between clenched teeth. “Dinna forget yer place, Sister, or you’ll be feeling the back of my hand as well. Now get out of my hall!” He grabbed her arm
and jerked her to her feet, shoving her away from them as he spoke.

  She stumbled, stopping as if she might say something else.

  “Go!” he thundered, and she ran, disappearing through the entryway.

  “I demand to see my cousin,” Blane insisted again, though this time the words sounded garbled as they passed over his already swelling lips.

  “And so you shall,” Wodeford answered quietly before breaking into laughter.

  Nine

  Wake up!

  The urgent voice in Ellie’s head dragged her from her dream to the waking world. A magnificent dream it had been, too.

  She stretched and scratched the back of her neck. Not that she could remember the exact details of the dream, but she had that warm, fuzzy-world feeling that was left when she was hauled from a really good dream.

  Ellie searched her memory as she rolled over and pulled the covers tighter around her, letting go long enough to scratch the top of her head absently. There had been a man, and he’d held her close. She remembered that much. And he had smelled so good. Like leather and lavender and—

  Forget Big One. Open door.

  “I was not dreaming of him,” she denied. Why she even bothered to argue with the voices in her mind was beyond her. She pulled the covers over her head, blocking out the early morning light.

  But not the voice.

  Now!

  If the urgency of the command hadn’t gotten her to open her eyes, the whimper that accompanied it would have.

  Both dogs sat at the closed door, staring back at her.

  Hurry!

  “Oh, crap! I bet you need out.” She jumped from the bed and threw open the door.

  The dogs raced off down the hallway, and only after they’d disappeared down the stairs did it strike her that the big entryway door would be closed as well. After last night’s scene with that old woman and the dogs, Ellie didn’t even want to contemplate what might happen if they did their business right at the front door.

  The heavy woolen nightgown she wore tangled around her legs as she started after them, causing her to stumble and bang her shoulder into the hard stone wall.

  Damn long skirts.

  She lifted the gown above her knees and hooked the tail over her arm, freeing herself to run after the animals.

  Sprinting down the curve of the stairs, she was quite proud of herself that she managed not to slip on the narrow stone steps. Gaining speed as she ran, she jumped from the next-to-the-bottom stair and smashed into what felt like a wall.

  A hard, warm wall of chest that barely moved in response to her slamming into it.

  “Hold on, lass. What’s got after you to have you leaping from the stairs?” Andrew grasped her upper arms to keep her from falling.

  “Sorry about that. I have to get the front door open.” She attempted to pull away but he wasn’t letting go.

  “And why would you need to do that so early in the morn? Yer no thinking of leaving us, are you?” Andrew’s brow wrinkled, his confusion evident.

  “I wasn’t trying to leave. Baby and Missy have to go.” Surely he didn’t need that explained.

  “What in the name of the Fae is going on here?”

  Caden’s roar echoed down the hallway, causing Ellie to jump.

  “Who are Baby and Missy?”

  Andrew’s question barely registered as Ellie’s attention centered on Caden’s approach. He looked angry. And the look was aimed squarely at her.

  “That’s what she calls the herd of beasts she’s collecting,” Caden answered as he reached them. “The ones that tried to knock us down as we came in the doorway.”

  “Oh good. They’re out.” What a relief she didn’t have to worry about that little problem right now.

  “Drew! Unhand the woman and quit yer gawking,” Caden ordered.

  Her arm freed, Ellie stepped back, relieved to have Caden’s ire directed at his brother rather than her.

  The relief didn’t last long.

  “And what do you think yer doing? Did you no show enough of yerself to all in the keep last eve? Where else might you be planning to go like that?” Caden pointed toward the floor at her feet, but his eyes didn’t leave hers.

  “Like what? Oh.” Ellie unwound the tail of her nightgown from around her arm, allowing it to curtain down to the floor. “Sorry.” So her legs were showing. So what? Lord, but this guy was easily offended.

  “What were you thinking, walking around like that?”

  Obviously she hadn’t been thinking, but she wasn’t about to admit that. Not to him anyway. “I said I was sorry. I needed to get the dogs out and I couldn’t run without breaking my neck with this stupid thing wrapping around my legs.” She waved her hand in the general direction of the bottom of her nightgown.

  Good grief. The man was getting all bent out of shape about her flashing a little leg. She shoved her sleeve up, scratching at her arm. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “The big deal?” Caden sputtered. “You’ll no go about exposing yerself like that again. Do you hear me? And what are you doing there?” He wiggled his finger her direction, pointing once again.

  “First of all, you don’t get to tell me what to do. Second of all…”

  “Looks to be bites,” Andrew interrupted calmly. “Fleas would be my guess.”

  Caden grabbed her arm, inspecting the spot she had scratched.

  “Fleas?” For an instant, her brain refused to comprehend the obvious.

  Oh, Lord, no! Sure enough, there were three little red bumps on her arm, itching like crazy. More on the back of her neck. Her legs itched, too. In fact, it suddenly seemed as if there was no part of her body where she couldn’t feel the irritating movement of tiny, disgusting little insects.

  “I’d say yer Baby and Missy brought guests along.” Andrew’s broad grin made it clear he saw no need to hide his amusement at her predicament.

  Caden shook his head, tightening his hold on her arm. “I’d best show you to the bathhouse.”

  She stilled. “Bathhouse?”

  Now that sounded promising enough to ignore Drew’s laughter as Caden led her down the hallway toward the back of the keep, dragging her behind him like an errant child.

  Not bad.

  Ellie sank into the wooden tub and submerged her sore shoulder under the hot water.

  Caden had left her here earlier, after filling the tub for her and pointing out how the bathhouse worked.

  The whole thing was actually pretty ingenious. Part of the building was nothing more than a roof and walls over a small stream. It reminded Ellie of the New England covered bridges she’d seen in photos, only with a grate replacing the bridge part.

  The other side of the bathhouse was a simple room divided into two areas by a rock wall that stood at least as tall as Ellie. On either side of the rock partition sat a large wooden bathing tub.

  The building itself was set up off the ground with wooden slats for the floor. Water could be drained out of the tubs onto the rocks below and flow down the side of the mountain.

  A massive stone fireplace was centered between the two areas, allowing water from the stream to be easily dipped into the huge cauldrons hanging over the fire and heated for the bathing tubs. The fire also provided some heat to the bathing area.

  The tubs themselves, although wooden, were easily as large as the old claw-footed tub in her bathroom back home, though deeper.

  Not bad at all.

  Other than the idea that more than one person at a time might be in here bathing.

  She dunked her head under the water once more, wiping at her eyes as she broke the surface.

  “You’ll do better with some of this soap.”

  Ellie jerked forward, sloshing water over the edges of the tub as she pulled her body up against the edge.

  The old woman standing in the doorway put her hand to her mouth to cover a smile. “My apologies, milady. I dinna mean to startle you.”

  Apparently the “kitchen lass” Caden
had mentioned he would send out had arrived, though she was by no means a girl.

  “Soap?” Ellie held out one hand, continuing to lean her body up against the side of the tub. She didn’t consider herself a prude, but she wasn’t particularly comfortable having this strange woman see her completely naked.

  “Aye. It’s a special blend the lady Rosalyn makes to help rid us of the wee vermin.” The woman ignored Ellie’s hand as she approached, rounding to the back side of the tub. “Come this direction and let Bridey help you with yer lovely hair.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother, ma’am. I can just…”

  “Yer no a bother to Bridey.” The maid lifted Ellie’s hair and began to rub the soap into it. “It’s a fact I’d rather do this than feed the fires for the ovens.” She chuckled to herself as she continued to massage the soap into Ellie’s hair.

  “You’re Bridey?”

  “That I am, good lady. Cook to the house of MacKiernan these last twenty-odd years, I am. But when Master Caden comes a-stormin’ into my kitchen and tells me he needs a helper to go down to the lady he’s given up his morning bath for, I says to meself, I’m no sending one of the wee lasses up to do this. No, Bridey’s coming out to see to this lady for herself.”

  “What do you mean Caden gave up his bath for me?”

  “Each morning, fresh after his training in the lists, Master Caden comes straight out here before anything else—regular as the seasons, he is. It’s been a ritual for the lad since the day he finished this bathhouse.”

  “Caden built this? By himself?”

  “Aye, that he did. With his own two hands to channel his energies away from his grief.” Bridey clucked her tongue as she continued to scrub Ellie’s head. “I should no be telling stories on the family, you ken? But that poor lad, you’d no believe what he’s been through. What with all the trouble with his betrothed and her ending up on Iona. Fair broke his heart, she did, the wretched lass. And her all the time puttin’ on airs as to what a good, church-loving soul she was. So his mother, God love her, put him to work out here. Dunk.” With only the one word of warning, she pushed Ellie’s head under the water.