Highland Warrior

by Connie Mason

  Ross turned in the saddle and beckoned his army forward. When they reached him, he led them through the gate and into the courtyard. Niall rode up beside him as an assortment of people crept timidly from the keep. The man who had waved the flag climbed down from the wall walk to join them.

  “What do you make of this, Ross?” Niall asked.

  “Sinclair has fled; that much is certain.”

  “I claim the keep and demesne for my son Ramsey,” MacKay loudly proclaimed.

  “Sinclair is your ally; ’tis within your right to claim Sinclair’s holdings,” Ross acknowledged.

  “Hear me,” MacKay said in a loud voice. “No one will be harmed. Repairs will be made to cottages; the curtain wall will be rebuilt with stone, and the keep refurbished. Food will be provided from my own stores. Who is in charge here?”

  “That would be me, laird.” The man holding the white flag stepped forward. “My name is Fergus.”

  “How long ago did Sinclair leave?”

  “He fled just after Yuletide, laird, during the break in the weather. He left us with no weapons and only the food that he and his men couldna carry with them.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “I can tell you that,” a female voice announced.

  Seana appeared in the open door of the keep. She descended the steps and stopped before Ross. Ross was shocked. Why had Seana remained behind? Why hadn’t Sinclair taken her with him?

  Niall called Seana’s name and reached for her. Ross grasped his cousin’s arm in a firm grip. “Doona be a fool,” Ross hissed. “Have you forgotten what Seana did to you, to me, to Gillian?”

  Niall shook himself and stepped back, allowing Ross to deal with the woman he had once called wife.

  “Verra well, Seana. Tell us where Sinclair went.”

  “Sinclair wanted to save his own skin when he learned Gillian was alive. He believed Gillian had leaped to her death from the tower and hoped to blame Ross for her untimely end. He intended to tell MacKay that Gillian became despondent when Ross rejected her and took her own life. When I told him Gillian was alive and at Ravenscraig, he feared reprisal. Coward that he was, he fled.”

  “Gillian would never take her own life,” MacKay growled. “Besides, I kenned Gillian was safe at Ravenscraig after she escaped from Sinclair’s tower. I saw her myself.”

  “But Angus didna ken that,” Seana explained. “He truly believed Gillian had leaped to her death.”

  “Why did you let him believe such a thing?” Ross asked. “You are depraved as well as evil.”

  “I wanted Angus to wed me!” Seana spat. “As long as Gillian lived, that would never happen. And if I killed her, he would never forgive me. The best I could do was to help Gillian escape, make Sinclair believe she was dead, and get him to wed me before he learned the truth.”

  “How could you, Seana?” Niall accused. “You were wed to me.”

  “Our handfast marriage was a farce. I wed you under duress. I wanted a real marriage. I wanted to be mistress of a keep, even a keep such as this.”

  She sent Niall a scornful look. “Niall would never become laird because. he isna ambitious enough to do what had to be done to make that happen.”

  “Kill me, you mean,” Ross retorted.

  Seana shrugged but said naught, confirming Ross’s belief. Ross heard Niall groan and placed a bracing hand on his cousin’s shoulder. Niall’s spine stiffened, his expression proclaiming his fealty to Ross.

  “You still havena told me where to find Sinclair.”

  “He fled to Edinburgh,” Seana revealed. “He planned to enter the king’s service as a mercenary.” She scowled. “He refused to take me with him. He left me here to face a bleak winter alone, with scarcely enough food to sustain me and those who remained behind. I curse him a thousand times over. I hope he rots in hell.”

  “Amen,” MacKay added. “Now we will never ken why he opposed a truce with the MacKennas.”

  “I can tell you,” Seana said, “but I want something in return.”

  “You deserve naught!” Ross roared. “I rue the day you came into my life.”

  “I had a plan,” Seana said, “but MacKay ruined it when he wed his daughter to you.”

  “And I couldna be more grateful,” Ross replied. “Tell us why Sinclair wished the feud to continue.”

  “First tell me what my punishment is to be. Will you let me return to my father’s keep?”

  “Nay, your father doesna want you, and I canna blame him.”

  Seana blanched. “Are you going to kill me?”

  “I admit the thought did enter my mind. But if you tell us what we want to know, mayhap we will consider leniency.”

  Seana approached Niall and knelt awkwardly at his feet. “Niall, for what we once meant to each other, have mercy. I am still your wife. If you take me back, I promise to be a good wife to you.”

  The look on Niall’s face was implacable. “You are no longer my handfast wife, Seana. I renounce you. I willna interfere with the punishment Ross and MacKay decide upon. May God forgive you, for I canna.”

  Seana, her demeanor anything but submissive, turned to confront Ross. “Verra well, I will tell you what you want to know if you promise not to slay me.”

  “I agree,” Ross said. “You have naught to lose by telling the truth, and much to gain.”

  “Angus wanted the feud to continue until all MacKay’s sons and the MacKay himself were slain in the feud. Then he intended to wed Gillian and claim Braeburn for himself.”

  “That doesna make sense,” MacKay scoffed. “What made Sinclair believe my sons and I would die fighting MacKennas?”

  Seana hesitated.

  “Continue, Seana.” Ross said,

  “You’ve already lost two sons, MacKay,” Seana said with sly innuendo. “What makes you think they were slain by a MacKenna?”

  MacKay’s brow furrowed. “Why would I think otherwise?”

  “Think about it, Tearlach MacKay.”

  MacKay staggered under the weight of Seana’s words. “Are you saying Sinclair killed my sons?”

  “Aye, he admitted to the deed, and despaired when the feud ended. He used various methods of mischief to convince the clans to take up their swords again.”

  “Doona forget your part in all this,” Ross said sternly. “Your evil deeds deserve harsh punishment.”

  “You promised!” Seana cried.

  “I but promised you would live, and so you shall. You will be escorted to St. Sithian’s Abbey, where you will spend the rest of your life cloistered behind walls, shut away from the world. I sent word ahead to expect you.”

  Seana looked as if she wanted to bolt, but there was no place to run. Her legs crumpled beneath her and she fell to the ground, begging for mercy. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

  Ramsey MacKay pulled her roughly to her feet. “You doona deserve mercy” he snarled.

  “We canna return home until things are settled here,” Ross told him. “Lock her away someplace until we can deal with her.”

  He watched dispassionately as Ramsey led a sobbing Seana away. “Fergus, is there ale available to accommodate us? We will gladly share our food if your stores are depleted. We brought enough provisions to distribute to your kinsmen.”

  “We can supply the ale and will be happy to share your food. There are bedchambers available for you and the MacKay if you wish them. The others can bed down in the hall.”

  Ross nodded his thanks, then turned to Niall. “Have the lads take the provisions to the kitchen.”

  As the men left to take care of their horses and carry in the provisions, Ross led MacKay to the hearth, where both sank down onto benches. MacKay appeared shaken. Ross would have been shaken, too, if he had just learned Sinclair had deliberately and cold-heartedly killed his sons.

  “I’m sorry, MacKay,” Ross said. “Betrayal is a heavy burden to bear, especially when it involves the death of your own flesh and blood.”

  “If Sinclair were here, I would
reach into his throat and pull his heart out with my bare hands. I lost two sons and would have lost all my bairns and my own life if I hadna sought peace.”

  “Sinclair is no longer a threat to us or our loved ones. We have put an end to years of feuding and are now allies.”

  “Sinclair still lives, but my sons are dead,” MacKay said in a voice rife with despair. “If there is a just God, Sinclair will meet his Maker and be thrust into hell for his sins.”

  “Sinclair would be a fool to return to the Highlands,” Ross predicted. “He has made too many enemies.”

  “He is a dead man if he does,” MacKay swore. “I’ve decided to rename Sinclair’s stronghold Wickhaven and place Ramsey in charge. Half my clansmen will remain to help him keep order, though I doubt anyone here will object. Once provisions, men, and arms reach Wickhaven from Braeburn, Ramsey can make something of the chaos Sinclair has left behind. Judith can join him as soon as all here is put to right.”

  Ross and his kinsmen remained at Wickhaven several days to make sure order was maintained, while MacKay took it upon himself to escort Seana to St. Sithian’s.

  Three days had passed since Ross had left to wage war on Sinclair. Gillian was in the solar sewing baby clothing with Alice when Gizela rushed into the chamber, her eyes wild and unfocused. Gillian looked up from her work and rose, her heart pounding with alarm. “What is amiss, Gizela? Is it Ross?”

  Gizela shook her disheveled gray head. “Evil approaches Ravenscraig’s gates. You must order the portcullis lowered at once, else all is lost.”

  “Who comes?”

  Gizela’s answer was forestalled when Gordo entered the solar, his confusion apparent. “Is Gizela here, Gillian? She said we must lower the portcullis as she raced by me just moments ago. I doona know what to make of it. Think you we should do as she says?”

  “Och, ’tis too late!” Gizela cried, throwing up her hands as if to ward off evil. “ ’Tis up to you now, lass, for you are the only one who can defeat him.”

  “Gizela, what... ”The words died in her throat as the sounds of clanking armor and loud voices drifted up from the hall.

  Gordo didn’t waste any more time in conversation as he turned and raced for the stairs. Lifting her skirts, Gillian followed as swiftly as she dared. Gordo reached the hall first. He skidded to a halt so fast, Gillian ran into him. He reached around to steady her as she gaped at the company of men wearing the king’s colors over their mail. They were heavily armed and holding their weapons at the ready.

  When their leader turned and grinned at Gillian, she had to hang on to Gordo to keep from falling. So many questions crowded her brain, she couldn’t find the words to express them. What was Angus Sinclair doing here wearing the king’s colors?

  Gordo asked the question Gillian could not. “What do you here, Angus Sinclair?”

  Angus strode forward, his gaze focused on Gillian. “I thought you dead, Gillian,” he accused. “I believed you had jumped from my tower to your death. I didna know you were alive until Seana sought my protection after she fled Ravenscraig.”

  “Seana knew I wasna dead,” Gillian replied. “She could have told you anytime she wished.”

  “Aye, but she chose not to tell me for reasons of her own. But her scheme didna work out as she wished.”

  “You are wearing the king’s colors. Are you really in the king’s service?”

  “Aye, my kinsmen and I are mercenaries in the king’s army ”Twas the lesser of two evils.”

  “Why are you here?” Gordo asked.

  Sinclair’s smirk sent fingers of dread racing down Gillian’s spine. “We are here on the king’s business. Where is the MacKenna? Why is Ravenscraig so poorly defended? We rode through the portcullis without being challenged.”

  “Why would we challenge the king’s soldiers?” Gordo replied. “Had we known it was you, you wouldna have been allowed to enter.”

  “My husband will return soon,” Gillian asserted.

  “Fortune is with me,” Sinclair gloated. “I expected a fight, but for once everything is going my way. Hear me,” he loudly proclaimed. “By the king’s order, I hereby lay claim to Ravenscraig Tower.”

  Gillian stepped forwards. “You are a liar, Angus Sinclair. Show me the document bearing the king’s seal and mayhap I will believe you.”

  Sinclair made no move to produce such a document. “It makes no difference whether or not such a document exists. Ravenscraig is now in my possession. How convenient for me that MacKenna isna here to challenge me. When he returns, we will be waiting for him. He will ride into our trap and die.”

  “How many men were left behind to defend the keep?” Gillian whispered to Gordo.

  “Six, including myself. Ross saw no need to leave a large force behind, for we have no enemies.”

  “What are you whispering about?” Sinclair barked.

  “There are men on the wall walk and others stationed within the keep to stop you from seizing that which is not yours and never will be,” Gordo claimed.

  Sinclair laughed. “MacKenna left behind but a handful of men. They have been captured and disarmed and are being led at swordpoint into the hall even as we speak.”

  The shuffle of feet brought Gillian spinning around in time to see five men being prodded into the hall. Her gasp of dismay brought another bark of laughter from Sinclair.

  “Accept it, Gillian MacKay. I am your new lord and master.”

  “Never! You will rot in hell before I will be yours, Angus Sinclair!”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Doona rile the man, lass,” Gordo warned as Sinclair took a menacing step toward Gillian.

  Gillian held her ground. “Look at me, Angus Sinclair.” She pressed the fullness of her gown against her stomach, delineating the swelling beneath. “I carry Ross’s bairn. Do you still want me?”

  The rage that had been simmering inside Sinclair burst forth. “Stupid bitch! ”Twas never you I wanted; ’twas Braeburn. I planned and schemed for the day I would claim you and become laird of Braeburn. Then the MacKay sued for peace, wed you to MacKenna, and all was lost to me. I decided to have Ravenscraig instead.”

  Gillian and Gordo exchanged puzzled looks. “You’re mad,” Gillian charged. “There is no way you could become laird of Braeburn. I have three living brothers and a father.”

  “Had the feud continued they all would have died, one by one, in the same manner in which your two brothers met their Maker,” Sinclair said. “Why do you think I worked feverishly to sabotage the treaty? But naught worked. Without a feud, your father and brothers couldna die fighting MacKennas, and I couldna claim you and Braeburn.”

  “I doona ken,” Gillian replied uneasily. She wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.

  “I didna expect you would. No one was smart enough to figure it out.”

  “Figure what out?” Gordo demanded. “Speak plainly, man.”

  Sinclair sneered at Ross’s uncle. “Think you the MacKay lads fell beneath a MacKenna sword?”

  Gillian gasped as comprehension dawned. Grief mingled with rage. “Duplicitous bastard! Traitor! You killed my brothers! You planned to slay my entire family and blame their deaths on the feud.”

  Sinclair shrugged. “ ’Twas easily accomplished, until your father turned coward and sought peace. I wanted Braeburn—always have. When your father wed you to the enemy, new plans had to be made.”

  A stunned silence descended in the hall. Even Sinclair’s kinsmen stared at their chieftain in dawning horror and disbelief. It was obvious from their reaction that Sinclair hadn’t taken his kinsmen into his confidence. Highlanders were a proud lot. Attacking one’s allies was unheard-of. Sinclair’s actions broke the strict code of honor by which they lived.

  Gillian was filled with a rage so intense, it could not be controlled. Angus Sinclair had cold-bloodedly killed two of her brothers and planned to kill her father and surviving brothers. Then he intended to wed her and claim Braeburn. Vengeance burned deep in her soul. Just seei
ng Angus’s smirking face in front of her demanded retribution. She reached for her clay- more, biting back a curse when she realized she hadn’t carried a blade in months.

  “The king will hear of your betrayal and punish you for your foul deeds,” Gillian cried.

  Sinclair laughed. “The king doesna care what happens in the Highlands. He has his hands full protecting his borders. Feuds are the least of his worries.”

  Something snapped inside Gillian. Beyond rage, she reached for her eating knife and launched herself at Sinclair. In the red haze that surrounded her, she heard Gordo call her name and felt his hand brush her gown in an effort to stop her. But Gillian was in no mood to be stopped. She moved swiftly and surely, scarcely aware of what she did as she plunged the knife into Sinclair’s chest.

  Sinclair fell to the floor, writhing in pain. “Kill her!” he screamed to his men. “Kill everyone. Let no MacKenna live.”

  To a man, the entire cadre stepped away from their fallen chieftain, as if distancing themselves from a traitor to the Highland code of honor. Gordo sprinted forward, seized Sinclair’s sword, and prepared to defend Gillian. But it wasn’t necessary. None of Sinclair’s kinsmen raised his sword to Gillian. In fact, the five MacKennas who had been held at swordpoint broke free with little effort.

  “Cowards!” Sinclair screamed. “I’m dead. She’s killed me!”

  “You’ll live, much to my regret,” Gillian said with icy disdain. “Had I a sword or a dirk instead of an eating knife, you would be dead. A well-deserved death, I might add. Even your own kinsmen hold you in contempt.”

  Gordo knelt beside Sinclair, holding him down as he examined his wound. “Aye, you’ll live.” He glanced up at Sinclair’s kinsmen, who were milling around him. “Which one of you is Sinclair’s lieutenant?”

  A man stepped forward. “I am Robert Sinclair, Angus’s lieutenant.”

  “Your chieftain is a traitor to his kinsmen and his allies, Robert Sinclair. He deserves to die. If you wish to return to Edinburgh, you and your kinsmen may leave.”

  “We are nae returning to Edinburgh,” Robert said. “We doona like being mercenaries. We miss the Highlands.”