Only give me the strength I will need, he prayed.
Several things happened then in quick succession. A large, furry form hurtled up the stone steps, streaked past Randleigh, and threw itself at the man on Tam’s left.
“Kill that beast!” Randleigh cried. “’Tis the warlock’s familiar!”
“Nay!” Annie wailed and darted forward to follow Ruff up the steps. The big dog heeded neither Randleigh nor the man trying to fend him off; his growls rose to fill the air.
And agony filled Annie’s eyes. Near enough now for him to touch, Tam did not know if she feared more for him or the valiant dog.
“Witch!” Randleigh bellowed and pointed his finger at her. “The warlock has surely sought to contaminate this woman.”
Tam lost all the breath in his body. He wanted to leap forward, defend Annie, but Randleigh’s henchmen held him still, one with a heated iron in his hand.
He waved it dangerously at Ruff, and Annie threw herself on the animal in an effort to protect him.
Randleigh strode forward, wrested the iron from his man, and declared, “Let justice be done!”
He brought the glowing iron down in a swoop aimed at Tam’s naked chest, and Tam steeled himself for the ensuing pain.
It never came.
Instead, even as Annie cried out, both her arms wrapped around Ruff, a great brown bird descended from the lowering sky, seeming to materialize out of the pelting rain, and flew at Ned Randleigh’s head, flapping wildly.
Randleigh gave a hoarse cry and raised both arms to protect his head. The heated iron fell from his hand and clattered harmlessly onto the stones even as Tam’s captors shied, pulling him away. The crowd gasped as one, either at the spectacle of seeing an owl fly in daylight or the persistence with which Sol attacked the factor, using wings, beak, and talons.
Randleigh went down beneath the onslaught, new blood appearing where the previous furrows had barely closed.
In the furor, no one—including Tam—heard a carriage pull into the forecourt. Yet a ripple of movement began as the crowd shifted aside for someone, and a commanding voice made itself heard above Randleigh’s cries.
“What goes on here? Someone tell me what is happening. Mistress Ann!”
Annie, still clutching Ruff tightly, spun as did everyone else present save Ned Randleigh, who remained kneeling on the stone, even after Sol rose into the air and flapped away in near silence.
“Laird Ardaugh,” she breathed.
The sour-faced priest and the florid magistrate both stiffened, and Tam’s captors let go of him. He followed Annie’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed.
Aye, and so this must be the absentee laird returned at last from Edinburgh. Looking at him, Tam found it possible to believe he had been ill all this while, unable to respond to Annie’s pleas. For even now he did not come under his own power. White-haired, pale, and slow-moving, he leaned on the arm of a burly ghillie who half carried him up the steps, where he paused, staring at the scene in disbelief.
Another man followed him. Tam recognized the physician, Master Camden, whom Annie had brought to tend his hand. All the breath left his body in a rush, even as Ned Randleigh lifted his head and scrambled to his feet.
Laird Ardaugh visibly recoiled upon seeing Randleigh’s countenance streaked with rain and blood.
“What is the meaning of this?” the laird demanded of his factor.
“A witch trial, my laird,” Randleigh replied hoarsely.
“What!” Ardaugh exchanged incredulous looks with his companions before gesturing to Tam. “Who is this man?”
“The—the witch.”
“Seize him,” Ardaugh said to the men at Tam’s back, and his heart fell violently yet again. But the men stepped past him at Ardaugh’s nod and caught hold of Ned Randleigh even as Ruff pressed against Tam’s side.
Laird Ardaugh turned to survey the crowd of his tenants through the streaming rain. “Enough of this madness! I regret, my good folk, I have been away so long—long enough to allow such a travesty on our lands. I have neglected you, but I am returned. We shall get to the bottom of your complaints—that I do vow!”
A ragged cheer arose to compete with Randleigh’s cries as he was dragged away into the house.
Laird Ardaugh turned to Annie, whose face shone with light. “You, lass, come with me and tell me all I need to know.”
“Aye, Laird. And please may I bring my husband?”
Ardaugh turned shrewd eyes on Tam where he stood swaying.
“Well, aye, and I think you should.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Despite his physical weakness, Laird Ardaugh swept through the house like a strong wave, with Annie, Tam, and several others in his wake. Annie, clutching her husband’s arm and pressed close to his side, tried to reconcile the laird’s presence and failed. Terrible changed the man was—so much so that she barely recognized him.
They made for the parlor, where Laird Ardaugh immediately ordered a fire kindled.
“And brandy,” he added to the servants who had flocked to him, “if there be any in the house.”
He then eyed everyone before sinking into a chair, where Camden, the physician, bent over him in concern.
A dream, Annie told herself—such it must be, one conjured from the pieces of the impossible horror outside.
Yet Tam’s arm, bare and wet, seemed real beneath her fingers. She could feel him trembling, could sense his mingled relief and disbelief that matched her own. Master Camden, here? And Ruff, dripping wet, in the Laird’s parlor, apparently having followed them in? Father Alban, as well as the priest Randleigh had brought, and the florid magistrate?
Despite her grip on Tam’s arm, she swayed where she stood.
Ardaugh fixed her with a shrewd gaze and waved a hand. “You’d better sit down, the two of you.” He then turned his eyes on the florid man. “I want explanations. Who are you and why are you here?”
The man, who seemed to have lost some of his color and arrogance, said, “Sir, I am Major Rodney Eddlesfield, acting magistrate of this district.”
Ardaugh lifted his frail hand. “Are you? Who appointed you such? And where is Alexander MacKenzie, who acted as magistrate in my time?”
“I believe Master MacKenzie is dead, my laird. Ned Randleigh appointed me.”
“Did he! By what authority?”
“He said it was by your authority, Laird Ardaugh.”
Ardaugh exchanged glances once more with the physician. “Just as you said, Doctor—the man has been using my name without my consent.” He switched his gaze back to Eddlesfield. Frail as the rest of him might now be, that stare still held power. “It looks to me as if he paid you off in whisky and kept you in his pocket. Get out of my sight.” Ardaugh waved an arm, and Eddlesfield, with a speaking look at the priest, took himself from the room.
“And you?” Ardaugh looked next at the priest. “Who are you?”
The priest, apparently frozen in his dismay, said nothing.
Ardaugh turned to Father Alban. “Do you know your fellow clergyman, Father?”
Father Alban shot a kindly look at Annie before he replied, “I know of him, my laird—many in the Highlands have heard about him, an itinerant priest bent on persecution and the elimination of what he calls evil.”
Ardaugh huffed. “Such ugliness is a thing of the past. We have become enlightened, even here in the Highlands. Surely between us, Father Alban, you and I can see him defrocked?”
The sour-faced priest bristled. “I will continue to be vigilant in my pursuit of righteousness.”
“Well, you will not do it here,” Ardaugh declared. “Get him out of my sight as well.”
Even as one of his coachmen showed the priest out, Ardaugh returned his gaze to Annie where she now sat on a small sofa, Tam pressed to her side and Ruff at her knee.
“As for you, Mistress MacCallum—or I gather it is Mistress Sutherland now…” One corner of his mouth tightened. “I received your letters. I owe you an a
pology; for a time I was too ill to read them or to see you when you journeyed to Edinburgh. I owed better to my old friend, your uncle—and to you.”
Annie, not knowing what to say to that, nodded.
“My malady,” the laird went on in a slightly stronger voice, “is one that besets many of my contemporaries all about the Highlands—poverty combined with age and shame. Shame, aye, lass—that I sold too many rights to my creditors in the south, along with my conscience. What would your good uncle say to that, eh? He would point out to me the extent of my duty, bid me stop licking my wounds, and think again of those who rely on me.”
His gaze narrowed on Annie’s face. “As you have done in his stead, through your letters. If one part of what you have related be true, lass, I should be horsewhipped for letting it occur. Well? What do you say for yourself?”
“Every word I wrote to you, my laird, was truth. You can speak to your folk if you wish to confirm it all. Ned Randleigh has been terrorizing this district, and most especially the women here.”
“I shall certainly speak with any who will come to me. I owe them that. But I can see by what was in progress when I arrived how far things have slipped in my absence. Add to that the fact that Master Camden, here, came to see me personally, assessed my condition, and advised me of what was going on. I read your letters then, lass. I gathered my strength and made the journey home. I know it is late, but I trust it will count for something.”
Annie looked at the physician. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so very much. You ha’ saved my husband’s life.”
Camden smiled at her kindly. “A bit like you, Mistress Sutherland, I am bound to alleviate suffering wherever I find it.”
Father Alban stepped forward and addressed Annie also. “Why did you not tell me all of what was going on here, lass, when I performed your marriage?”
Annie shook her head. “Ned Randleigh’s power seemed so absolute, I did not think anyone but the man who’d appointed him could set him down. I should have known better; all of you went out of your way to help us, in the end.”
She stopped speaking, struck by a sudden thought, for she saw now with blinding clarity: the law by which she lived her life held true. The light she had put out into the world had returned to her threefold.
Tam spoke, his voice harsh. “If I may ask, what will happen to Ned Randleigh?”
Laird Ardaugh switched his gaze to Tam. “Ah, the husband. You, it appears, were willing to accept much of Randleigh’s abuse in defense of your wife.”
Tam replied simply, “I would do aught in the world to protect her.”
“Master Camden, here, has told me what Randleigh did to your hand, and a bit of what befell you before that, in the north.” Ardaugh grimaced. ‘‘’Twas a long and arduous ride from Edinburgh. It grieves me, young man, what trouble now besets the Highlands. The old way of life passes, and I am as guilty as any of failing to halt the changes. Alas, I have not the wealth left to compensate you as you deserve. But I can promise both you and Annie things here will improve. We may all live in poverty, and extreme poverty, at that. But we shall do so together.”
Annie asked, “Does that mean you will stay, Laird Ardaugh?”
“It does. I will sell my house in Edinburgh and die here, where I was born.” He drew a breath. “For I am an old man and without issue—save those who live here on this land with me. Best to stop feeling sorry for myself, eh, and begin thinking of them?”
Annie blinked away tears. “Laird Ardaugh, what will the future hold?”
“After I am dead, you mean? I do not know yet. But I can promise there will be no further clearances on my land.”
Relief struck Annie so hard it made her dizzy; Tam’s fingers tightened on hers almost painfully.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“Nay, lass, it is I who must thank you and your husband for keeping the faith even when I failed you. Your mother and uncle would be proud of you. Now, where is that brandy? Your husband needs a tot, unless I miss my guess.”
“Aye, my laird,” Tam agreed, sounding dazed.
Ardaugh fixed an eye on him. “I know little enough of you, sir, save what I saw when I arrived, and that speaks well of your courage, along with the fact that Annie, here, chose you. I think we shall deal well together. As I say, I am an old man. I shall need a new factor, one who acts in wisdom and compassion. Might I hope you will consider taking that place?”
Annie watched as light—quiet yet powerful—filled her husband’s eyes. With the dignity which had marked him from the first, he replied.
“My laird, I would be honored.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Are you certain you are fit for this?” Annie turned in the bed to face the man beside her and strove to read his expression in the dim light.
The house had at last gone quiet, everything back in its place. Sonsie slept up in the loft, Ella curled at Tam’s feet, and Ruff lay at the side of the bed within reach of Annie’s hand. The fox and the cats cuddled together by the fire, and Annie could just see Sol—who must have accomplished his flight to the laird’s house and back again in stages—on his perch by the window, outlined against the slightly paler night sky.
The room might look the same, yet she knew everything had changed. For the better, she trusted. All for the better.
Yet she could not seem to help fussing over Tam. Her terror when she’d beheld him in Randleigh’s power, knowing he meant to sacrifice himself for her, would not let go.
“More than fit,” he murmured in reply, and his lips brushed her cheek. “Can you no’ tell?”
She wanted him to love her, longed for a bonding wild and deep, desired it with intensity that half frightened her. Tam Sutherland lay in her heart now; he had become part of her soul.
But, she reflected, that might well have happened the first time she saw him at the hiring fair.
“I can tell. But”—she ran her fingers down his chest just for the pleasure of it—“I barely believe you are safe and here wi’ me. When I think what that man meant to do to you, what you would ha’ endured for my sake…”
He drew her close against him, a ship coming in to harbor. “I would do anything for you, Annie Sutherland. Anything. Do you no’ ken how I love you?”
“I do.” She could scarcely doubt, with the proof of it just behind them. “And I hope you know how I love you.”
“I think I can tell.” He gathered her still closer, using his good hand. A measure of the terrible fear inside Annie eased then, subsiding into a glorious contentment.
“And,” he whispered, “I hope you are proud of what you’ve done this day.”
“Me, proud?” She studied his face in the dim light, knowing she would never tire of its lean lines or of his understated humor, and that she could never, never get enough of this man. “’Tis yoursel’ was the hero.”
“Ah, nay—if there is a hero, ’tis the good physician, Master Camden, who traveled all the way to Edinburgh and used his influence to see the laird—and treat him, I do no’ doubt, so he might travel back here.”
“There is but one hero of my heart.”
She pressed her lips to his in a lingering kiss, which he received with satisfaction before he spoke again.
“But, Wee Crow, ’tis you brought about the miracle that transpired this day, with your believing. Do you no see? The light you ha’ been shining out into the world returned to you full well through those like Jockie and Kirstie who stood wi’ you, the valiance o’ your animals, and all those who took our part.”
“I do see that, aye. All conspired together to bring about the downfall of that evil, wretched man—”
“Ah, now.” Tam stayed her words by laying gentle fingers across her lips. “Do no’ speak such hate.”
“But…”
“I ha’ learned, and learned the hard way, hatred is a poison that galls the one who hates. Look what it did to me—nearly did to me, but for the love of you. Nay, Annie, you have taught me to put faith
only in light, if I will ha’ it back in turn.”
Annie’s eyes filled with tears. “I am glad.”
“Anyway…” He drew a breath, and a new note entered his voice. “I am thinking we should be grateful to Ned Randleigh.”
“Grateful?” She thrashed in his arms. “To the man who nearly destroyed us? Och, Tam, now you go too far.”
“But he did no’ destroy us.” Tam kissed her. “He could no’.” Another soft kiss that turned Annie weak inside. “And were it no’ for Randleigh and his black heart, you would no’ ha’ come to the hiring fair, would you?”
“Most likely not.”
“And so never would ha’ made your braw announcement asking for a husband.”
“Ah, this is true.”
“And never would ha’ looked twice at me.”
“I would!”
“Ne’er ha’ wed me,” Tam amended, landing yet another kiss on her lips.
“Well, so.”
“And I would no’ be here with you, able to love you this whole night long.”
Annie sighed, leaving go of her worry and hurt. “There is that,” she murmured in pure bliss. “Blessed be the hiring fair.”
A word about the author…
Born and raised in Western New York, Laura Strickland has pursued lifelong interests in lore, legend, magic, and music, all reflected in her writing. Though her imagination frequently takes her to far-off places, she is usually happiest at home not far from Lake Ontario with her husband and her “fur” child, a rescue dog.
Author of Scottish romances as well as the Guardians of Sherwood trilogy, she has also published three Buffalo Steampunk romances, two Christmas novellas, a Valentine’s Day short story, and two Lobster Cove historical romances so far, all available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc. (See a list of her titles in the first pages of this book.)
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