“I take me position of guardian o’ the stone seriously,” said Aidan, going back and sitting atop the stone.
“Only someone with rocks in their heid would sleep on the damned thing,” muttered Ian, sliding off the table and getting to his feet.
“The stone is only in our possession until the end of the year,” Wren reminded them. “After that, it’ll go in secret to another clan to protect it, so the English never find out that their king stole a fake coronation stone so many years ago. This system has worked well for the last five and sixty years, so don’t ruin it.”
“Dagger, ye didna tell Lovelle aboot it, did ye?” asked Ian. “Or any o’ yer family? After all, they are all English and if their king finds out the English have stolen a fake coronation stone, he’ll send his armies after it, sooner or later.”
“I didna say a word te me English family,” said Onyx. “Only Love kens, but she willna tell the rest o’ them.”
“Ye shouldna o’ told her,” said Aidan.
“She is me wife. I can trust her.” Onyx raised his palms in the air and shrugged as he spoke.
“She’s also a Sassenach. Ye can only really trust the Scots thet our stone is in safe hidin’,” Aidan reminded him.
Wren cleared her throat just then and shook her head. “I am English as well as Storm’s mother, so I am sure we can all trust that Scotland’s secret is still safe. Now hurry up, as Storm sent me to tell you that everyone is ready to go to the trade fair in Glasgow, and we’re just waiting for you three.” She left the room with Kyla following right behind her, leaving the door open.
Aidan looked at the Stone of Destiny, having taken a personal guardianship over it these past six months. Back in 1296, King Edward I, stole the coronation stone from the Scots from an abbey in Scone. Little did the king know, the abbot had replaced it with a fake, large, red sandstone, and the real stone was safe in hiding.
Because the English weren’t really familiar with what the stone looked like, they had taken naught but a decoy. And with the Scots taking turns over guardianship and moving it from clan to clan, they’d managed to keep safe the stone used in every Scottish coronation since Kenneth MacAlpin, the first king of Scots who was crowned over five hundred years ago.
“Aidan, ye dinna need te worry aboot me wife tellin’ secrets. After all, ye are the one who canna e’er haud yer wheesht,” spat Onyx.
“Thet’s right,” agreed Ian, pushing back his dark, tousled hair. “Ye are the one who always opens yer big mouth and says things ye shouldna.”
“Thet’s no’ true,” he protested.
“Really?” Onyx crossed his arms over his chest. “Then how did Lovelle ken what I was goin’ te do when I went te kill me faither? After all, ye and Ian were the only ones I told.”
“And how aboot the time ye told Kyla I was the one who hid her clothes when she was bathin’ in the loch?” pointed out Ian.
“She’s me sister,” Aidan said in self-defense. “I couldna let ye see her naked! And Dagger,” he said, nodding toward Onyx, “I couldna let ye kill yer faither, as I kent ye woulda regretted it someday.”
Onyx just shook his head and smiled. “Face it, Aidan, if anyone wants te ken gossip, they dinna go te the alewives te find a waggin’ tongue, they come te ye instead.”
“Well, I willna e’er tell anyone aboot the stone,” he said, feeling a wee bit bad that everything his friends were saying was true.
“It’s been safe so far, so mayhap ye are changin’,” said Ian.
Just then, Onyx’s wildcat slinked into the room with a dead chough, red-legged crow, in its mouth. It saw the squirrel scampering around and dropped the bird and lunged for Aidan’s pet instead. The squirrel scurried up Aidan’s arm and settled itself on his shoulder. Aidan ran a hand over the squirrel to soothe it, and stood to put distance between his pet and its stalker.
“Dagger, yer pet has grown since we last saw ye,” said Ian.
“Aye,” agreed Aidan. “I dinna think its safe te bring it around camp. There are bairns and livestock and sheep in the hills . . . and squirrels here.” His squirrel agreed by scolding the wildcat from atop Aidan’s shoulder, flicking its tail wildly.
“Nay, Tawpie willna harm them,” Onyx said, scooping up the cat, now having to use both hands to hold her, as she was no longer a cute little kitten. The cat’s eyes stayed fastened on the squirrel. “I have raised her from a bairn, and she is only bein’ playful since she is still so young. She listens te me, so dinna fash yerself aboot it.”
“Still, jest te play it safe, ye should keep her locked up,” said Aidan.
“I willna lock up me pet any more than ye’ll do the same te yers.” Onyx held the cat to his chest protectively. “Besides, she’s jest caught a bird so she willna be hungry fer awhile.”
“What is takin’ ye three so long?” asked their chieftain, Storm, walking into the hut, followed by Wren. Storm and his father both served as chieftains to the clan, and took turns staying at either the Highland camp, or the Lowland castle they’d claimed near the border, Hermitage Castle. Wren spied the dead bird on the ground and jumped back, startled.
“Dagger’s pet is killin’ off e’erythin’ in sight,” complained Aidan.
“No’ so,” Onyx replied. “And I willna lock her up.”
“I canna endanger the clan nor the livestock,” said Storm, shaking his head. The long blond braid at the side of his head swung slightly, and the cat tried to swipe out for it with its paw.
Storm scowled, but Wren reached over and took the cat in her arms. She had always had a way with animals and truly loved them. “I’ll get Renard to keep an eye on Tawpie during your visit,” said Wren, offering the services of their eldest son of eight and ten summers for the job. He was actually Storm’s son from a previous marriage, but Wren had raised him as if he were her own. “He used to have a pet fox years ago, and loves animals. He’ll keep the children safe, don’t worry.”
“Then Renard and Niall will stay here te watch the cat as well as watch o’er the stone while we’re at the fair,” said Storm. Niall was Renard’s cousin and also best friend, as they were about the same age, Niall being a little younger. They’d both turned out to be excellent with handling weapons thanks to Storm, so the stone would be in good hands. Besides, since the English didn’t even know it existed, it wasn’t in any real danger anyway.
“Storm, you know how much the boys look forward to the fair,” Wren reminded him.
“I’ll stay,” offered Onyx.
“Nay,” said Storm. “I need ye three te help me sell and trade fer goods we need at camp. Ye three are the best at gettin’ a guid, fair trade, and also the best prices, so ye’ll come with. Renard and Niall will take watch fer now and they can still go te the fair in a few days time.”
“I had a dream,” said Aidan anxiously. “I’m no’ sure what it means, but I saw the English comin’ inte this cottage.”
“No’ another o’ yer dreams,” grumbled Storm, not believing in anything supernatural. “Last time ye had a dream, ye had all the lassies bathin’ e’eryday becooz ye were sure if they didna, they were goin’ te get the pox.”
“Aye, but I enjoyed thet,” said Ian with a smile.
“Nay, this is different,” Aidan tried to explain. “This was so real, and I’m no’ sure what the English were doin’ here.”
“Mayhap they were hunting bonnie lassies . . . with furry tails,” said Ian, causing another fit of laughter between him and Onyx.
“Aye,” said Onyx, trying to catch his breath. “Mayhap Aidan should stay on watch so he can bite them all in the tails when they arrive.”
“Haud yer wheesht,” snapped Aidan, pushing past them out the door with his squirrel on his shoulder. They could make a jest of his dream, but somehow he knew that it was one of those visions like Jacob had so many years ago. Though he had no idea what the dream meant, he felt that his Scottish angel was in trouble and somehow needed his help.
AIDAN
CHAPTE
R TWO
Liddel Castle, Scottish Border
Effie MacDuff opened her eyes, hoping she’d only been having a bad dream. But when her vision focused on the bars in front of her small confinement, she realized the nightmare was real.
“Coira?” she cried out, looking around for her younger sister. The floor swayed underneath her, and to her horror, she realized she was hanging in an iron basket from the side of a castle. She rubbed the bump on her head, still feeling like her skull had been split open by the English soldier when he knocked her senseless after she’d tried to defend their gypsy camp.
“Effie?” she heard her sister’s small voice, and turned to see that she, too, was hanging like a bird in a cage. “I’m scared.”
Effie jumped to her feet, nearly hitting her head atop the grates of her confinement. She wasn’t tall by any standards, and their cages were barbaric, crude and small. She looked down to see the English soldiers looking up and them and laughing. They were on display for all to see, and the thought of this sickened her as well as made her very angry.
“Let us out o’ here!” Taking hold of the bars, she tried to shake herself free. She glanced down to her bedraggled clothes, now torn and dirty from her scuffle when the men attacked their camp. Relief washed through her when she realized the soldiers hadn’t stolen the MacDuff brooch of her grandmother that held closed her arisaidh - the long cloth wrapped around her and fastened at her shoulder. The metal, round brooch was engraved with a lion embedded with an amethyst eye, holding up its paw with a sword. Around its head was the clan’s motto, Deus Juvat, or God Assists. It was all she had left to remember her family by, since the death of her mother years ago. By the grace of God, her descendants had passed down to her the MacDuff brooch. So now all she had left was this, and Coira, her younger sister.
“You’ll stay put until we get word to King Edward that we’ve caught the descendant of that traitorous bitch, Isabel MacDuff,” sneered one of the guards.
“Effie, what are they talkin’ aboot?” asked her sister from the iron cage beside her.
For her entire life of twenty years, Effie had lived the life of a gypsy, keeping the secret her dying mother had told her the day she lost her life birthing Coira. Effie had only been six years old at the time, but she knew her life was never going to be the same after what her mother confessed to her that day. She missed her mother dearly, and only wished she were here right now.
“Dinna worry aboot it,” she told her sister. “I’ll get us out o’ here, I swear.”
“But they took yer dagger as well as yer bow and arrows. We have no way te protect ourselves from these bluidy bastards.”
“Coira, watch yer words, as they arena thet o’ a proper lassie.”
“Ye canna tell me thet when I learned e’ery foul word I ken from ye, big sister.”
Effie knew this was the truth. She’d learned to fight to protect them, and had hardened her heart the day she lost her mother. Her mother had warned her that the English would find them some day. Although they were MacDuffs, they were also descendents of a woman who angered the English years ago, and now they were the ones who were going to pay for it.
“Where are we?” Effie called down to the guards.
“You’re in Liddel Castle,” the guard told her.
“But . . . thet’s a Scottish castle,” she said, knowing of its whereabouts just north of the English border.
“Not anymore. Lord Ralston the Bold has seized it, and I assure you he is English, not a wretched Scot.”
“What do ye want from us?” she called down to the guards. Her heart thumped in her chest and she knew it didn’t look good for either her or her sister. If she couldn’t strike up some kind of bargain, they would most likely die in these cages. She only hoped they wouldn’t be tortured, or perhaps kept in a cage for four years the way the English had done to her grandmother, Isabel MacDuff. “What did ye do with the rest o’ our clan?”
“What clan?” asked one of the guards. “You mean that band of gypsies you travel with? Hah! That’s no clan, they were nothing but common thieves and swindlers.”
If she weren’t in such a dire situation, she’d almost find that amusing, since that’s exactly what she’d been thinking about the English. “They are our family. Now let me loose, I demand you.” She pulled on the grates again, causing the cage to rattle. A crow settled itself atop her sister’s cage, reaching its beak through the bars, just waiting to be able to peck their eyes from their bodies as soon as they were dead and shriveled from the sun. Her sister screamed and hid her face in her hands.
“You have no gypsy family anymore,” the guard relayed. “They tried to attack us when we came for you and your sister, and we had to kill them all.”
“Nay!” she cried, the anguish inside her starting to boil over. Her heart felt hollow, and she mourned for the lives of the gypsies that were taken, because they did naught but protect Effie and her sister since the death of her mother. “I’ll kill ye bastards, e’ery one o’ ye, I swear. Ye willna get away with this.”
“Effie?” She looked over to see her sister crying, and she wanted nothing more than to gather her into her arms and comfort her the way she’d always done through the years. But she couldn’t. She tried to reach through the grates, and her sister reached for her as well, but while their hands were close, they could not touch each other. “They’re goin’ te kill us, arena they?”
Effie’s heart broke to see the fear in her sister’s eyes. Though the girl was already four and ten years of age, she’d been weak and sickly most her life, and her heart was not strong. She often fell victim to fevers, and Effie could already see her sister’s frail body shaking. Though it was summer, come nightfall her sister would be cold.
“Nay, stay strong,” she told Coira. “They canna win unless we give in te them, and lose our will te live.”
“Why are they doin’ this?” she asked again. “What did we do te deserve this kind o’ treatment?”
“We did nothin’,” she explained. “’Twas an act o’ our grandmathair thet has them so roiled.”
“I kennawhat ye mean.”
“I’ll take care o’ it, now jest get some sleep.”
She saw her sister’s eyes closing, and she knew the girl was exhausted. Effie swore she’d do whatever it took to right this situation. No more MacDuffs would live in a cage in front of the public eye the way her grandmother had. Her mother had told her in order to ensure their safety, they had to keep their identity a secret. She had no idea how the English found out about them, after all these years of thinking Isabel MacDuff died without issue.
The gypsy man, Tasgall, walked into view, and suddenly it was clear what had happened. Since the English did naught to confine him, she was sure this man had spilled their secret.
“How does it feel te be up there?” Tasgall asked, and flashed a quick smile.
“Ye traitor,” she called down and spit at him out of the cage. She never did trust the old coot, ever since the day she found him stealing food from one of the bairns. He was over forty years of age and had a big nose and beady eyes. Effie thought it was shameful to even call him a Scot after what he’d just done. “Why did ye do it? Why did ye tell the English our secret?”
“Becooz I have a secret too, me little bird. Only mine is one thet the English like. Ye see, I am a descendant of the Comyns. And in case yer mathair didna explain te ye, yer grandmathair was married to a Comyn before she decided te betray the English crown.”
“Ye have it wrong, ye fool. Me grandmathair wasna the one te do the betrayin’. She was loyal to Robert the Bruce, and also her country. Too bad I couldna say the same fer the Comyns.”
“Aye. Too bad thet Comyn and Bruce were enemies, but then again ye have The Bruce te thank fer killin’ Red Comyn so many years ago, so mayhap he’s te blame fer ye hangin’ in thet cage after all. Jest like what happened te yer dear auld grandmathair.”
Effie knew only too well what he was talking about. Her mot
her had explained their roots, and that Isabel had left her brother being fostered in England, as well as her husband who had befriended the English king, to crown Robert the Bruce at Scone, as was the hereditary right of a MacDuff. She was a very brave and honorable woman. If she hadn’t been captured by the English, things might be different for Effie and her sister today.
Effie’s father was from the MacDuff clan and had come to her mother to couple in secret. He was a coward though, or he would have done something about rejoining them with the clan. She actually felt no remorse the day she held her mother’s hand and looked down at the dead body of the father she never knew on the bloody field after the Battle at Neville’s Cross. As far as she was concerned, the man got what he’d deserved. She was only too glad that Coira never had to experience this, as he’d died before she was actually born.
“Tell me what ye want,” she cried out to the Englishmen. “I’ll do anythin’ at all, but please, jest set me sister free. She is no’ well, and canna be treated this way.”
“Anything?” asked the guard, and Effie could already feel her skin crawling at the thought that he’d probably defile her. Still, she would say whatever it took to get him to release her from the cage, and then perhaps she’d have half a chance of fighting him off or coming up with a plan to free her sister.
“Ye ken what yer lord wants,” said Tasgall to the guards.
“Aye,” said one of the guards, nodding his head. “But I think we should have our way with the girl first. Lower her down,” he ordered another of his men.
The cage was lowered slowly to the ground, and the guard twisted the key in the lock, releasing the hinged door. He opened it and grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out into the dusty courtyard. He had the look of lust in his eyes, and may have tried something if the lord of the castle hadn’t walked out at that moment.
Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels) Page 48
