“No, that’s fine, Laird. ‘Tis not important. Feeling sorry for oneself is unacceptable,” she nodded her head and bumped his chin.
“Tell me.”
“No.” She paused for a moment and pointed a finger. “Look over there. I think I see a boar!”
“Aye, they roam about here. Doona change the topic.”
She turned her face to the side, and in the dim sunlight, he could see her blush.
“‘Tis that no one has ever defended me. Except for you.”
“What do ye mean? Are ye an only child?” Connor asked innocently, obviously not wanting her to know how much of her life he already knew.
“Nay. I have three older brothers and I’m the youngest, but we’re not so close. My youngest older brother is six years my senior. I was a mistake.” She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. Self-pity. Self-pity,” she chastised herself, shaking her head. “But yes, my brothers wouldn’t come to my rescue…I mean, not as well as you did for me tonight,” she laughed. “There’s always a reason for everything and God was trying to make me stronger. And he did. No room for self-pity,” she said nodding as if she made perfect sense.
She made sense and then she didn’t. He didn’t understand her, but he decided to try and chip away some of the confusion.
“Mistake?”
“Oh, I don’t want to go into that.” She waved her hand. “God is merciful and forgiving. I shall soon have forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?”
She was going to make him daft.
“What did ye mean when ye said ye were afraid of the dark?”
“Laird, I…shouldn’t have said anything. The past is the past, and so it shall remain. ‘Tis unimportant.”
Maddie bolted up and would have fallen off the horse if Connor hadn’t placed his arm around her waist.
“What is the matter?”
“I heard a noise and I saw something in the trees over there.”
Connor looked and saw nothing.
“Ye really are afraid of the dark, arena ye?”
“Yes.”
“How do ye sleep at night?”
“Candles. Ramsay keeps me company. He and God are my companions. I am ever devoted.”
Connor grimaced as he was reminded of the hound that bore his name.
“How is it that ye are afraid of the dark?”
She hesitated and he felt it. Each time she talked about her fears, she grew tense.
“I…well…I hate speaking of my flaws, Laird, and-”
“Connor.”
“Yes, yes, Connor. My apologies. It used to be my punishment.”
He held on to his patience. She was so confusing.
“Punishment? How?”
“I was not a very well-behaved girl. And so, more times than not, I was punished by being placed in a dark barred room alone.”
Connor thought about this interesting piece of information. That was cruel for a young girl to experience.
“Who would punish ye?”
“My father or brothers. Whoever caught me misbehaving.”
Connor smiled slightly thinking about how she would have misbehaved. What could she have possibly done? Talked too much? Used trickery on others? Didn’t eat enough? He thought it was more likely the last one. She was so light and thin. She looked as if a gust of wind would knock her down.
“What would ye do to cause these punishments?”
“Oh, Laird, I cannot speak of my sins. The punishments were justified, ‘tis all,” she said and remained quiet.
She was a mystery, and completely eccentric.
“What were they?” he found himself insisting.
She sighed. Obviously he wasn’t relenting.
“I wouldn’t clean well enough or the house wouldn’t be kept right. Or the rushes were a week old. Small things.” She left out a couple of others.
Connor shook his head. A girl so young shouldn’t have been saddled with such responsibilities, or at all, for that matter. She was a Lady, and her position didn’t allow for such menial work.
Maddie’s shivering caught his attention. He reached back and pulled out a plaid covering.
“Here. Not even yer shawl and thick gown keep ye warm.”
She was quick to refuse.
“Nay, Laird, I can’t. What if ye or another grows cold? I can’t accept that.”
“My name is Connor, and I insist on ye using it.”
“Nay. I’m fine, really.”
She was infuriating! Lord, give him patience. At least she wasn’t selfish.
Connor noticed that as the night went on, she slowly began to relax. Her shivering, however, continued. He knew she was asleep when her head lolled down. He wrapped the plaid around her. After a while, when she continued to tremble, he wrapped his left arm around her, too. Her shaking slowed, until it stopped. Connor almost felt bad for not stopping, but he just wanted to get back to Keisealle.
Yes, he almost felt bad.
Connor knew Katie was battling her night demons at home while this woman dreamed with angels.
Maddie snuggled in his embrace. She didn’t like being alone in the dark. He rolled that thought over in his mind. She must have been one demon child. Not clean well enough? She was probably glossing over the full truth. He didn’t feel so bad, then, for going forward with his plan.
Excerpt of To Have and To Trust, Andie and Gavin’s story
Maitland Curse
Anon comes the Maitland Curse,
Listen close and wise,
Though ye heed every verse,
It willna stop death upon life.
The Dark Wolf will meet a woman of sheer perfection,
Love will blossom and they will wed,
But there must be between them, a strong connection,
So that their souls will be truly fed.
The wife takes her laird to bed,
The Dark Wolf plants his seed of life,
The next Maitland laird has been bred,
Upon the laird’s wife.
The next Dark Wolf grows within her womb,
Growing stronger with every rise,
The last nail is cast in her tomb,
The Dark Wolf’s birth causes her demise.
The wife who bears the first born son,
Has born the Maitland heir,
The wife who bears the first born son,
Has born the Dark Wolf heir.
The heir shall open his eyes,
For all to see their glowing pale color,
The wife who has born the heir closes her eyes,
Leaving the young Dark Wolf without his mother.
Prologue
The Prophecy
Highlands, Scotland 1218
“Every Maitland has a Prophecy,” he said to the sixteen
year old laird.
“I doona believe in that, old mon,” he said, casting a sidelong glance. He stood tall and proud, in his blue and green plaid. The flames of the fire burning in the hearth shined an orange hue on his face. His eyes fairly glowed.
“Ye should, lad, for it became truth for yer father,” he responded.
A furious breath exited the young laird’s flared nostrils. His chest was on its way to massive proportions. Years of hard practice under the supervision of his disciplined father had made him this way. It had also made him hard, unyielding, and cynical. His silver gaze turned icier and glowed eerily.
Aye, this was the Dark Wolf, the old man thought. Every bit the Dark Wolf, as the Maitland legend told.
“My father died in battle, honorably fighting,” said the young laird, irritated.
“He died because he was careless. He thought himself invincible. He entered into a fight of which he had no hope of winning.”
“Ye’re wrong, old mon,” the young laird said, turning blazing silver eyes onto the old seer. They were almost incandescent.
“Yer father’s Prophecy proved to be true.”
“What was this Prophecy, this fantasy of yers?”
he asked, menacingly.
“‘Twas no fantasy.” The seer paused. “Yer father’s Prophecy read:
Bear no illusions,
Ye have a weakness,
Bear no delusion,
‘Tis nay bad to carry yer meekness.
Bode the season well,
Doona be so bold,
Lest in battle ye fell,
And so ye’ve been told.
Ye’ll be the cause of yer own death,
And when the time comes,
Ye shall utter with yer last breath,
Words that shall transfer responsibility to yer son.”
The young laird shook his head, his black hair moving around his shoulders. “Ye’re wrong, old mon.”
“Nay. And yer Prophecy shall come true, if ye doona heed it.”
The young laird rolled his eyes. “If it humors ye, old mon, seer as ye claim to be, what is mine, then?” the young laird asked heatedly, threateningly. His eyes flashed at the challenge he issued.
“Are ye sure ye wish to hear it, young laird?” the seer asked amused, narrowing his gaze to angry laird’s face. “Yer father was yer age when he heard his.”
“Aye, old mon, tell it,” he ordered.
“Verra well, laird. Yer Prophecy reads:
The Dark Wolf shall fall prey to weak,
Blindness shall lead him to both darkness and light,
Danger comes through the darkness’s heat,
It leads ye towards a difficult fight.
Hair of wheat and eyes of honey,
Defeat will come in stealth,
Blind ye will be, for she will be bonny.
Fool you she will, with her lust of title and wealth,
A child she carries,
A child to bear,
And ye shall be married,
To her, for love and to care.
Ye’ve been told of this foresight,
To save ye and yers,
Failure to act in the shadow of light,
Makes ye exist no more.
When the time draws near, ye must make a choice,
Ye must listen carefully to yer inner voice,
In the wrong decision, comes yer end,
The Dark Wolf’s death, never to mend.
Destroy or be destroyed.”
“Ye’re mistaken, old mon,” the young laird snorted, walking to the door.
“Ye will be the legend, The Dark Wolf,” the seer said. “Had yer father spoken of this before?”
“Aye,” came the curt answer. “I am the powerful Dark Wolf, as my father was, and as his father was, reaching far back in our ancestry. I am invincible,” the young laird said, his eyes glowing as he finished the sentence.
“Doona get ahead of yerself, young laird. Ye must nay be so arrogant,” the seer warned.
The Dark Wolf looked at the seer and his eyes glowed menacingly. “I’ll be what I choose to be, old mon,” the young laird said, as the door slammed on his words.
Once outside the door and standing in the dark corridor, the young laird stopped. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were glowing.
“Dumb old mon,” he whispered in the darkness.
As he stalked down the corridor, he could not help but think of the night his father died almost a month ago.
It was a dark, rainy night. His father had underestimated his opponents. Instead of sending one of his men to alert and bring reinforcements, he’d wagered and lost.
The young laird remembered his father’s final words as he stood by him. The rain pelted down on his father’s face. Silver dimming eyes gazed into silver glowing ones, as he struggled to speak. Breathing harshly, he’d whispered, “Son, I bestow on ye the title of laird. Be invincible, be superior, be the Dark Wolf.”
Chapter One
Highlands, Scotland 1230
McBride Holding
“Children have nay place in war,” he said, as he cupped the face of his child.
The noise outside rose to a crescendo. Men were grunting and screaming in pain and agony. The fire being set to the cottages was visible through the window of his room. The fire lit the night sky.
“I’m nay a child, Father. I’m ten and nine,” Andie whispered, shakily. She knew her father was dying. His face had become very pale. She had managed, with Bryce’s help, to bring him upstairs after he was felled on the field. Bryce was Andrew’s first in command, and he was now watching his laird die, standing silently in the shadowed corner.
Alistair, her own cousin, was battling against her father for power. And he was winning.
“Ye’re still my baby, Andie,” he said, smiling at her name. “I always wanted a boy and it wasna for want of trying. But I was ne’er disappointed at having yer sisters. All seven of them,” he said hoarsely, a shadow crossing over his green eyes. “Are they all dead, Andie?”
She closed her eyes as the pain washed over her. The memory of seeing the bodies of her sisters and mother being violated and slaughtered came forward. She cleared her head and opened her eyes. Tears washed down her flushed cheeks.
“Aye,” she said in a painful whisper.
Andrew closed his eyes and erupted in a fit of coughing. Andie hastily brought water to his dry lips. She helped bring his head up and gave him water. He coughed even after a long swallow and some of the liquid spilled from his lips.
“My draws near, Andie,” he said hoarsely. He looked at his youngest with love.
“Nay, Papa, please hold on,” she beseeched painfully. He was all she had left.
“Oh, my little warrior,” and then he smiled. “Ye remember when I first started calling ye that?”
She nodded her head.
“Aye. I was convinced ye were a lad before yer mother birthed ye. And, well, I couldna help calling ye little warrior. Ye were always outside, watching me train the men. Ye picked up a small branch and began waiving it in the air as if it were a sword,” he said, laughing, remembering.
She smiled, the tears falling from her hazel eyes.
“Andie?”
“Yes, Papa?”
“Andie, ye will become laird.”
“But Papa-”
“Nay, I’ll nay name another.”
“But Papa, Bryce is more fit. Even Uncle Cooper. I am just a woman,” she said.
“Nay. Cooper is old and a twisted, bittermanever since that day long ago when the clan named me the new laird. He was ne’er a fit laird, or fitmanin his head. Alistair is proof of that.” He stopped and laughed, saying, “Ye doona believe that ‘ye’re just a woman’ rubbish. Ye’re more than a woman, Andie. Ye’re what the clan needs. I always wanted ye to succeed me, Andie. Ye’re fair, honest, and noble, but have the strength of iron in ye. Ye’ll be the best laird ever to lead the McBrides. And I’ve spoken to Bryce. He will follow my wishes, won’t ye, Bryce?”
Bryce moved away from the dark corner where he had stood moments before. The light barely lightened his face, a face that held shadows of sadness. “Aye, laird. I will protect her, guide her, and follow her,” Bryce said, his voice deep with sorrow.
Bryce was an honorable man. He had grown up with Andrew, and as young boys often did, they had become brothers. Bryce was like a second father to Andie. Bryce’s own daughter, Meghan, was her very best friend.
“Oh no! Bryce, where’s Meghan?” she asked worriedly, as she thought about Meghan.
Bryce’s long dark hair moved slightly as he nodded, his lips pursed. His silver eyes centered on Andie.
“She is safe, Andie. Once this has passed, I will collect her from safekeeping.”
She closed her eyes and looked up, as relief flooded her. Andrew’s coughing brought her attention back to her father.
“Ye must go to one of our allies, Andie. They will help gather more men. Bryce will go with ye.”
“What about Charlie?” Andie asked, her concern over Charlie, the second in command, obvious.
“He’ll be commanding the soldiers here, until we gather more soldiers from our allies,” Bryce
said.
Andrew reached out, touching her hand. “Ye must go, Andie. Start with the McKendricks.”
“What about the Maitlands? They border us.”
“Nay. Although we’re allies, the Dark Wolf has become bitter and angry. He willna take a liking to a woman laird. Nay, ye must go to Donald McKendrick,” Andrew said, coughing harshly.
“I willna leave ye now,” she whispered.
“Yes, ye will. ‘Tis an order, Andie. I willna have ye disobeying!” Andrew said, coughing again. His breathing became labored.
Her father was stubborn and had always been, but she was her father’s daughter, and stubborn as well.
“I willna leave ye alone. Either Bryce stays or I will. Choose,” she said firmly, a stubborn glint in her eyes.
“Nay, Andie, ye will follow my orders,” he said as sternly as he could. He wanted to smile and gave into the urge when he saw the iron in her straighten.
“Alright, Andie. Go on, then. Bryce will stay here with me and follow ye…after,” he said, making reference to his looming death.
Andie looked down at her father. She kept the tears at bay, but one snuck away from the well.
“Oh, Papa,” she whispered, hurtfully.
“My little warrior, ‘tis alright. Ye must go on and lead this clan. Ye’re the hope…the only hope left.”
She stood up and leaned down over him, kissing his forehead.
“I love ye, Papa,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. She squeezed his cold hands tighly.
“I love ye, too, my little warrior.”
Her tall form walked towards a hidden passage. Only the laird of their clan knew about it. It was passed down from laird to laird, but Andie had known about it for some time. ‘Twas only to be used during times like these. She heard the moans and groans of the fallen men more clearly now. The battle for control over the McBride territory raged violently.
With one last look back to her dying father, the last of her family, she went through the opening. It closed up behind her, as if it had never opened.
The Highlander Who Loved Me (Heart of a Highlander Collection Book 4) Page 23
