Highlander's Heart 0f Steel (Beasts 0f The Highlands Book 5)

by Alisa Adams

  Kaithria spoke up in her quiet, husky voice. “’Tis a smuggler's signal.”

  Cat clapped her hands. “Och, how exciting! This adventure is just getting better and better.”

  Keir ignored his niece, and looked down at the golden-eyed woman. “Aye,” he said. His deep voice held a question as he narrowed his eyes on this mysterious girl. “But how do ye know?”

  Kaithria shrugged her shoulders. “I have heard of this.”

  “I have too,” said Cat quickly. “It’s been reported all over the Highlands. They are smuggling to get goods like tea and tobacco and salt. Also ’tis whisky from the Highland glens they are smuggling. Since the English must control everything and willnae let us make our own whisky without penalty! Did ye know there are only eight legal distilleries? And taxed unfairly high, they are as well. Tsk, what else is a body to do then have an illegal still?”

  Keir stared at his niece in disbelief.

  Cat shrugged her shoulders and batted her eyelashes at him. “I read quite a bit, since I was never allowed to do anything else.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  Neely stammered, “But if it’s illegal, and they are caught, then...”

  Cat smiled. “Aye, if they are caught they are fined, and oft times hanged, sometimes hanged and quartered!” She shivered dramatically.

  “First they took our weapons,” Swan said angrily. “Then it was our way of dressing. Our religion, now our land, our homes. Our means to feed ourselves. No wonder we saw no one on the way here save two thieves. The people of Caithness have all been cleared out. What’s left but to pillage and rob and smuggle goods?”

  “Sister, ye sound like a Jacobite,” Steil said curiously.

  Swan made a slashing motion with her hand. “I am nothing. I am only Scottish and want peace.”

  Neely’s eyes went back and forth between all of them. “Smugglers then? Do ye mean it’s not me da?”

  Steil’s eyes softened. He shook his head. “Unless yer father is a smuggler, Neilina.” He then looked at Keir. “It is as I suspected when the lights were reported here. Smugglers.”

  “Ye knew it would be smugglers?” Neely asked him with shock.

  “Aye, I suspected. What else could it be? Smuggling is rampant now, and ’tis illegal.”

  Keir made a motion with his hand. “Someone cleaned out the tower house. The first floor of the tower has had someone preparing to live in it. The ceiling has been repaired. The fireplace has been repaired as well as the walls. The second floor, going up to the turret, also has repairs started. The stairs have been rebuilt, and a roof is partially back in place over the second floor. That is how we discovered the white sheet.”

  Neely gasped. “It has to be me da, it has to! ’Tis not smugglers.”

  “There was a crate with bottles of whisky in the tower house. Stamped Highlander Parks,” Kaithria said softly, looking at Neely.

  Cat spoke up. “Weel noo, that’s a name that cannae be traced to any one clan or location. The Highlands are a vast place to narrow that name down to find an illegal still,” she said with some admiration.

  Neely raised her chin defiantly. “Me da would never be part of smuggling, or making illegal whisky.”

  Steil and Keir looked at one another. A man who ran during an attack, leaving his own daughter as well as other women and children undefended, would and could indeed be the sort to make illegal whisky and be a smuggler.

  “We need to take the women out of here at once,” Steil said curtly.

  Neely spoke from between clenched teeth. “I will not leave!” She closed her fists at her sides and nodded to the white sheet atop the tower’s turret. “Would ye waste time escorting us poor, defenseless women, and miss the chance to catch those tolla-thon, gallus, scunner smugglers? That twould be foolish!”

  Cat broke the tension. “None of us women are leaving! Enough of that. Lord Steir, Uncle Keir, we are staying! Not only do we need to find Neely’s da, but Neely is correct, we mustnae miss the—what was it ye said, Neely? The loathsome, cheeky, arse—well, the smugglers,” she said with a grin. “And ye’ll gaunnie need our help! Och, tis invigorating!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Now, I say we go open a bottle of that Highlanders Park whisky and sample the stuff!” When Steil narrowed his eyes at her, she shrugged her shoulders innocently. “They left it there, in yer castle, so why not?” She didn’t wait for an answer but started back up the hill towards Brough. Swan quickly caught up to her, shining the lantern high so they could see where they were walking.

  Kaithria and Keir followed.

  Steil stood there, watching the myriad of emotions crossing Neely’s face.

  Finally, she looked up at him. “Me da is not a smuggler.”

  “Are ye trying to convince me, or yourself?” Steil asked her in a low voice.

  Neely started to open her mouth to say something. Instead, she brushed angrily past him and followed the others back up to the castle.

  Steil took his time going back to the castle. He was deep in thought as he checked on the horses, giving them more water and several pats. When he finally walked into the tower, a fire was going in the huge hearth, making the large and round tower room cozy. The light from the fire glowed and bounced off the newly cleaned stone walls.

  Steil looked around. There were a few benches and chairs scattered here and there, and one long table. Dragged from the stables or one of the cottages, no doubt, Steil thought. But as he ran his hands over the table, the scars and marks of time on it were familiar. It was indeed his family's table that had stood in the old hall. Cleaned, sanded, and waxed, and brought here to the tower. There were some pots and some glassware and trenches, everything one would need to stay here, make it a home. If one wanted to live in a round turreted tower, that is. The adjoining structure was gone. What he remembered as home was gone.

  Steil accepted a glass of whisky from Keir and sipped. His eyes scanned the room and its contents, settling on Neely where she sat by the fire, as she gently sipped the golden liquid. Swan was behind her, slowly combing through Neely’s long, tawny hair, letting it dry by the warmth of the blaze. It looked freshly wet. She must have rinsed it with a bucket from the well, he thought. It was a beautiful sight.

  Then his eyes came to rest on his sister, Swan. He thought of her anger when she had described the Clearances. Thought how happy he had been when he first saw her, until he had heard what had happened here at Brough.

  He had left her alone to withstand the attacks, the Clearances, by herself, with only a few men. She had been so young.

  She isn’t drinking any whisky.

  Steil’s brows furrowed. Swan had stayed in the back of the line of horses as they rode here. The last rider. On Old Inch, not her Peigi. Normally, Swan loved to lead, riding circles around everyone else.

  And the twins he had met on the road said something about one of the ladies retching and singing. Steil knew his sister sang when she was nervous. She had always been a timid little girl, and he remembered well her habit of singing when frightened.

  She looked very pale. Had she gained some weight since he first came back and saw her at McKay Castle?

  “Swan?” Steil asked. “Ye arnae partaking of the whisky?”

  “Och no,” she said with a faint wave of her hand.

  Cat, Kaithria, and Neely went suddenly still, and silent. Their glasses were frozen in place in front of their lips as they stared at Steil and Swan, wide-eyed.

  Steil had not missed the other women’s nervous faces. He narrowed his eyes back on Swan. “Out with it,” he demanded.

  Swan smiled, and only paused for a moment. “I am going to have a bairn,” she announced. Then she spoke in a rush. “And before ye or Keir shout at me, no, Wolf does not know yet. And dinnae be hollering at the girls for they didnae know either until we were well on the way here. Except for Catriona.”

  “Aye, I figured it oot on me own,” Cat said proudly. “She was hurling up her stomach something fierce, she was.”

/>   Steil’s face had gone white. “Those twins; the thieves, on the road. Bi crivens Swan! What if they had harmed ye?”

  “Och, Neely had it all in hand! She and Teeth are both quite fierce. ’Tis why I gave that particular horse to her to ride. She wasnae happy of course,” she said and looked at Neely, who turned to look back at her with a big smile on her face. “But I knew they were a pair. And she did handle those ruffians as I knew she could, with Teeth’s help!”

  “And my help as well,” Cat chirped in. “I handled them well too, and Kaithria helped! We wouldnae let anything happen to her or the wee bairn! And I must say ’twas invigorating!”

  Steil rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing the dark stubble on his chin as his elbow rested on his knee. He looked at Keir from under his furrowed brows. Keir’s face was a mask of consternation.

  “He’ll have our heads,” Steil said to Keir with dread.

  “Aye, he will,” Keir sighed.

  “Me sister had to marry the most powerful laird in Scotland…” Steil groaned softly.

  Swan grinned. “Aye, I did, and I am blissfully happy!” she said with a wink at the other girls. “I hope he will be happy when he hears the news.”

  “Aye me brother, Wolf, he will be blissfully happy as well,” Cat said with a mischievous grin as Neely and Swan giggled. Kaithria joined in with her soft laughter as well.

  The girls were all thinking of Ina Ross. Ina had told the girls her story when they were all at McKay Castle. How she had vowed to find blissful love like her sisters had. And she did; with her Beiste, the Duke of Beaumont. Or rather- her beast!

  “Seven children now!” Cat continued excitedly. “The six orphans and now a wee bairn! McKay Castle will be full of children! All running and laughing and playing and being healthy! Och I want to be blissfully happy too!” she said with a sigh as she stared into the fire with a dreamy smile.

  Steil pushed a hand through his hair and looked uncomfortable where he sat on a bench by the fire. “I am not sure what all this blissful talk is aboot, but I know that I am tired, and Swan, ye must get yer rest.”

  “Aye!” Keir added quickly, not liking the direction the conversation was going himself. “We should all bed down here in the tower.”

  “But me cottage—” Neely started to say.

  “Is not fit to sleep in.” Steil looked hard at Neely. “It is also too isolated. Ye women will stay here with four walls and a roof where ye are safe and we can keep ye protected.”

  Cat huffed out in frustration, “We can certainly protect ourselves—”

  Steil looked past Cat at Neely’s angry faces. “Aye, I know ye all can protect yourselves, but a golf stick and peat cutters can only serve ye so well in a fight.”

  “’Tis...a...golf...club,” Neely said between her teeth. “’Tis not a stick!”

  Steil held up his hands. “Very well. I want no collie shangles with ye, Neilina Eunson.”

  “I have me claymore,” Cat said proudly, holding up the ancient sword.

  Keir jumped up and grabbed it out of her hands. “Sards! Let me have that! The thing is almost bigger than ye are Cat.”

  Cat raised her chin and took it regally back from him. “Nay, I will keep it, and thank ye vera much. It is part of me family and has already served me well.” She glared at her uncle as she turned to walk away with her sword in both hands. She put it carefully away and sat down again.

  Steil grinned at Keir. “She gave one of the twins a fine hair trimming.” Steil gave a short laugh as he made a chopping motion with his hand over his head. He stopped abruptly when he saw Cat glaring at him.

  “Goodnight ladies,” Cat said, with a look of daggers at Steil and Keir as she intentionally left out their names when saying goodnight to the others. She settled her tartan over herself on the floor and closed her eyes.

  Keir and Steil got up and went to the large, newly repaired door of the tower.

  “Where are ye going?” Neely asked quickly.

  “Out,” said Steil. And in a softer voice, “Sleep Neilina Eunson. Ye need it...after yer swim.”

  Steil did not want to tell her that he and Keir were going out to watch for smugglers. He knew that white sheet was a signal. And if he was right, it meant a ship should be arriving any day to pick up whatever contraband and whisky the smugglers had to offer. He just needed to find their storage area where they were keeping their goods, and most likely making their whisky as well.

  9

  The next day everyone went off to do different things. Keir and Steil disappeared to go hunting or fishing—whatever would bring food to the table—before any of the women were even awake.

  The women took care of the horses and then searched through the rubble of the main part of the castle for anything useful.

  Neely wandered away from them, down to the row of cottages. Most were piles of ashes, others were falling in on their burnt timbers.

  She followed the track to her little cottage and got another look at it in the daylight. So much to clean up after it has been left for so long, she thought. The windows and doors had blown open at some point and it was filled with sand, dirt, and debris, as well as ashes from the other burnt cottages.

  She sighed. There is even a large bird's nest, or perhaps it is a red squirrel that made it their home, she thought. And of course mice.

  Neely sighed and picked up her broom. It was still right where she had left it, from what seemed so long ago.

  There was no sign that her da had returned here to her cottage. None.

  So who cleaned and repaired the tower? The smugglers? My da?

  She sighed in frustration and began sweeping the filth into a pile on the floor.

  A shadow blocked the sunlight that had been streaming in from the open door. Neely looked up, startled. Her heart was in her throat. Da?

  It was Steil, his wide chest and shoulders filling the doorway as he stood there with both arms bent, leaning on the doorframe. His shirt was stretched taught across his chest, the ties at his neck undone, letting the shirt hang open in a V, revealing a deeply tanned chest. His sleeves were rolled up to bare his strong, tanned forearms. Neely got a good look at one thick, muscular thigh where it pushed out of one side of his kilt.

  “Steil,” she said with a faint blush coming to her cheeks.

  “Neilina,” he answered slowly, a smile spreading on his lips.

  She noticed how the sun hit his eyes just right, lighting up the steel blue in a way that could only be called beautiful. She stifled the sigh that rose within her. “What?” she managed to say saucily.

  His mouth lost its smile as he looked down at the floor and then back to her eyes.

  “I just wanted to thank ye, for what ye did last night. In the sea. Ye could’ve drowned.”

  “Och, nay,” she whispered, but before she could say more, he continued.

  “I also want ye to know that sometimes,” he began, looking back down at the floor, “when I am angry or frustrated or...well, sometimes I just need to swim off me anger.”

  Neely waited until he finally looked up and met her eyes. She needed to see them. Into them.

  “And if ye die, ye die?” she whispered brokenly, repeating the words he had said before.

  He shrugged. “Swimming helps.”

  Neely studied him. “I remember, before me mither passed away, one of her sayings was that ‘the salt water of the sea is good for whatever ails ye.’ Ina Ross’s husband, Beiste, went swimming in the sea after he showed up at Fionnaghal, exhausted and badly beaten. He swam to ease his ribs that had been kicked and pounded by a vera bad mon. They all thought his ribs were cracked, but he was too tenacious to let that stop him. They werenae cracked of course, just badly bruised, but he swore the cold sea eased them.”

  She had rambled, Neely realized this, while she had watched Steil. Letting his hard face ease and relax.

  “I just need to work off me anger sometimes, ’tis all,” Steil said firmly.

  “Perhaps ye shoul
d try golf,” she said with an attempt at humor.

  “Whot? Hit tiny balls with a tiny stick? I dinnae think so,” Steil said indignantly.

  “’Tis not that easy. Ye must hit the tiny balls into tiny holes too,” Neely explained. “With a club, not a stick. Ye hit the tiny balls into the tiny holes with a club.” Then she realized what she had said to this big man before her. He looked horrified, and she tried not to laugh.

  Steil stared at her, but she just looked innocently back at him.

  “Ye arnae making a joke are ye?” he asked her.

  “Nay, ’tis golf,” she said simply with a grin. “Ye should have seen us hitting stones at some nasty soldiers we met on the road away from Brough the first time. All of us, letting them fly as fast as the children could place stones in front of us. Hit those scunners in the head, we did!”

  “Golf?” Steil asked questionably.

  “Aye, golf,” she said with a nod.

  Steil let out a low, soft growl. He ducked his head and strode all the way into the cottage. Grabbing Neely by the hand, he pulled her out the door.

  “I’ve not time fer golf right now,” he said as he pulled her along. “I want ye to show me all the places yer da might go around Brough.”

  Neely tugged on his hand, bringing him to a stop. “Dinnae ye think I have looked everywhere?” she said with frustration.

  Steil reached out and stroked her cheek, then pulled his hand back, fighting to keep his focus on the job he had to do.

  “I am sure ye have looked. But Brough is changed,” he said firmly. He sighed angrily and scowled. “Things are different. I need ye to think where he might go if he was hiding.” He held his hand to her lips to stop the argument he knew was coming. “What if he is hiding from the smugglers?”

  He watched as her face changed, the anger draining as his words sunk in. He needed her insight. There were smugglers using Brough, his home. And he would bet his last penny that Gilbert Eunson, her father, was among them.

  But he couldn’t tell her that.

  Nor could he tell her that as soon as he and Keir had returned from hunting, he had looked for her. And not finding her with the others, he had felt empty.