by Fiona Faris
“He looks good enough tae accompany ye on this journey, Cabduh,” the other, older man finally spoke.
“Och, William MacLeod, ye of all men would understand bein’ a useless son, wouldn’t ye? What are ye even doin’ here?”
“Ahh, that’s where we’re different, ye old letch. Th’ Laird of me clan kens what value he can find in family,” the other man said. Tristan had never heard someone speak to his father in such a manner, at least not and live to tell the tale. Tristan immediately liked the man.
“Forgive our intrusion, my laird,” Tristan said, interrupting the two older men’s spat. “My Da is thinkin’ that the woman he seeks may have already arrived at yer keep. As ye ken, we have reason tae think she was headed for yer lands.”
“There’s no need tae be polite, ye daft lad,” Cabduh said. “Me kens th’ lass be here, MacLeod. I demand ye turn her over tae me for punishment. We cannae have a witch loose in our lands. She killed me sweet wife.” His final words came out in some semblance of a wail. Tristan understood that even in his way, his father felt grief, but he was unmoved. It appeared the same could not be said for the MacLeods who looked at one another with a meaningful glance.
“The lass is here, Cabduh,” Laird MacLeod said, and Tristan’s heart sank. How could Gavin have been so stupid as to bring her here?
“Then turn her over, MacLeod, and we’ll be on our way,” his father replied.
“Not so fast, Cabduh. The lass is currently under my guard. I’m nay convinced yer claim of murder and witchcraft hold. We need time tae discuss and come up with an agreeable solution tae yer claims,” MacLeod said.
“Nonsense! She’s a witch, and she killed me wife. What more do ye need? One laird’s word should be good enough for another. Are we nay highlanders? Ye’d take th’ word of a sassenach over me own?”
“Under normal circumstances, nay. I’m no friend tae th’ English, but th’ lass has a fellow highlander stand-in’ up for her.” Gavin, Tristan thought. Clever. He didn’t know if the Laird was in on it or not, but Gavin was smart. He brought the lass here, but he wouldn’t allow harm to come to her.
“MacGille,” his father growled. “The MacGille lad cannae be trusted! He came tae me castle, pretended tae be a friend, and then stabbed me in th’ back tae take th’ girl. Her sister is married tae his brother, he is biased.”
“That maybe so, but I’ll not hand th’ lass over and potentially anger Laird MacGille without proof that cannae be denied. Do ye have such proof?”
“I doona need proof! Me wife is dead. Ye would think th’ connections between our families, would be enough for ye tae take me word, MacLeod.”
Tristan looked back and forth between the men. It was clear MacLeod was stronger and more intelligent than his father, but he also seemed to want an amicable solution. Tristan wasn’t sure he would achieve that goal. His father was like a hound with a bone. He wasn’t likely to give up Amelia so easily. Perhaps if Tristan weighed in, and offered a solution, they could move forward from this endless discussion, and give Amelia and Gavin more time.
“My laird,” Tristan interrupted, once again. “Perhaps if we held a trial? Me Da could present his side and Lady Amelia hers. Then, yerself, Gavin MacGille, and one other could vote. It would be fair, and allow for the truth to emerge without risking an unnecessary fight with either our clan or th’ MacGilles?”
“A trial?” Laird MacLeod looked at him with a curious expression. Tristan wished he could have a private audience with the man. He wanted to tell him everything, beg him to help with his father. Possibly make him see reason and step down from his seat of power.
“A trial?” His father muttered under his breath. Tristan knew his father well, and the lack of anger meant it was possible the old man thought the idea of a trial a good one.
“If all three clans are represented, there would be no way for the verdict to be unfair. Laird MacLeod, as the uninterested, third party would be an impartial judge.” Tristan suddenly found his voice. “Would ye be willin’ tae agree to a trial, Da?”
“If the lass is found tae be a witch and murderer ye’d allow me tae take her back tae me lands and punish her as I see fit?”
“Aye,” Laird MacLeod replied, still looking at Tristan. Tristan felt the heat of his gaze. He knew the Laird was trying to determine if he was friend or foe.
“And there would be no fighting? Ye’d keep Gavin MacGille from doin’ anything rash?” Tristan offered.
“Aye, MacGille will nay be trouble. If the trial is fair, there will be nay a dispute. Uncle, what do ye think?” The Laird turned to the older man who had remained silent since his argument earlier with Tristan’s father.
“I think a trial would be a fair and even way tae decide the lass’ fate.” William MacLeod said.
“Then let us have the trial, sooner rather than later,” Tristan said. Tristan was willing to say anything at the moment to ensure his father didn’t suspect. His father nodding in agreement. For the first time since he had returned from the gaol, his father seemed pleased with him. And if his father was confident Tristan’s loyalties lay with him, it would help the trial go smoothly. It would risk his standing with Laird MacLeod, but when all was said and done his true goal would be made clear, and he would have Gavin to speak on his behalf.
“The trial will be in the morning. I bid ye rest my Laird, Tristan. Let the weariness of yer travels seep from yer bones. Tonight, ye will be the guests of honor at our evening meal. I will invite the MacGille lad as well. We will dine as friends before we speak tae th’ lass,” Laird MacLeod said.
Of course, when it was over that Tristan would lose the last shred of confidence his father had in him and would have to face his wrath. It was a price he was willing to pay for Amelia’s freedom and to pay a debt to his friend, Gavin.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gavin’s headache was gone, but his mind was still reeling from all he discussed with Laird MacLeod the night before. He had wanted to go back to Amelia immediately. He had tried to insist, but Laird MacLeod refused. As a guest in his keep, Gavin had no choice but to comply.
The Laird wanted to speak with her alone, and Gavin hadn’t liked that idea at all. While he didn’t think the Laird was a danger to Amelia, he still wasn’t keen on allowing the man anywhere near her alone. MacLeod reassured Gavin repeatedly that he meant the lass no ill will, and repeated that Gavin really had no choice. He was left with no option except to finally relent. He wasn’t happy about it, but what choice did he have? After all, he and Amelia both were at the complete mercy of their host.
The Laird had insisted that instead of fretting about the lass, that Gavin sleep. Gavin didn’t like to be told what to do, and he certainly wasn’t keen on taking orders from the MacLeod. Instead of refusing outright and starting an unnecessary conflict, he simply nodded his agreement. It didn’t matter, he knew that there was no way he could sleep, not until he knew Amelia was safe and out of that cell.
He paced the fine woven carpet of the bed chamber. Back and forth, until there was a visible path in the weave. After speaking with the Laird, he was confident that the man knew Amelia was no witch, but he had revealed nothing of his plan for them, instead of imploring Gavin to trust his judgement. How could he trust the man’s judgement? Since arriving in his keep, Gavin had been knocked out cold from the hilt of a MacLeod sword, Amelia had been taken prisoner, and he has been unable to even see her. Nay, there was no way he could simply let go and trust the man.
Gavin felt the familiar pull of his demons trying to take over. With each turn about the room, his logic was fading, and the blind warrior of his nightmares was gaining momentum. He wanted to rush the keep, taking down anyone in his path until he found Amelia and got them out of here. He wanted to lay a path of destruction behind them so great no one would dare follow. He didn’t want to trust William or Laird MacLeod. He wanted to protect her, above all else. But this wasn’t a war and rushing off like a mad man would not help either of them. This si
tuation required diplomacy. Gavin clenched and unclenched his fists. He tried the breathing tricks Amelia had taught him that day in the gardens, anything to try and control the rage within him. The waiting was the worst. The night felt like it was endless.
Och, but how long must I wait?
He felt like he was revealing everything while the MacLeods revealed nothing of their true intentions. He was in a prison again, maybe there were no bars for him, but the feelings were very much the same.
The door to the chamber opened, and Amelia stood before him. Her face looked bright, if not tired and when he rushed to her, she smiled.
“I was so verra worried about ye, lass,” he said, crushing her to his chest.
“Gavin, I was worried for you.”
He kissed her, fiercely. “Never worry for me, Amelia. I’ll always come back for you. I’ll nay be foolish enough tae die when I have ye tae protect.”
“Laird Macleod is my brother’s father. My brother lives, and I will meet him soon,” she said, her face betraying a sadness that didn’t match with her words.
“That’s great news lass, but why are ye sad about it? This is everythin’ ye wanted?”
“It’s not so easy as I’d like, Gavin,” she began. “Laird Cabduh is here.” Cabduh?
“The Laird himself?” he asked, sure he must have heard her incorrectly. She nodded. She spoke true.
What purpose would the old man have to travel so far north himself? Where was Tristan? Gavin’s thoughts raced.
A knock came to the door, Gavin moved Amelia behind him. “Come in.”
William MacLeod entered the room, and Amelia moved from behind him. “William,” she said. “What’s happening with Laird Cabduh?”
“I want tae ken the same,” Gavin said. A guard followed bringing in a tray that Gavin assumed was a meal.
“Take a seat, both of ye. I apologize on behalf of me nephew, but we need ye tae stay out of sight this evenin’, lass. Laird Cabduh is here with his son, Tristan.”
“Tristan is here?” Gavin looked up from the tray. Tristan was here. He was at once thankful his friend was still alive and wary as to why he would be accompanying his father.
“Aye, I take it ye ken each other. Do ye believe him tae be an ally?” William asked.
“I do. Tristan and I have been through enough trials for me tae trust the lad,” Gavin said.
“As do I. He is my cousin.” Gavin was proud at Amelia’s defense of Tristan. She did not know him as well as he, but she still must have seen in him the same virtue that Gavin knew was there.
“Good, th’ both of ye. It makes it easier, what I’m about tae tell ye.” Gavin motioned for William to sit, and he did.
The sat together while William explained Tristan’s idea for a trial. At first, Gavin didn’t understand. Why would Tristan mention something that on its face was a risk to Amelia, but as William explained further, Tristan’s genius became clear. As did the risk he was taking. If Gavin and Laird Macleod voted to release Amelia, Tristan could still vote for holding her and save face in front of his father. But would he do that, or was this trial Tristan’s idea of finally breaking free from the cruel man’s hold on him?
William thought the former was the man’s plan, but Gavin wasn’t so sure. Tristan wanted to lead his clan away from poverty and pain into the future. It was perhaps this act of defiance that would help him achieve that goal.
“So, Gavin, I hate tae ask ye lad, but I think it’s best if Cabduh is tae believe th’ lass is in the dungeon, for ye tae join us int he great hall. Make yerself seen, brood, be angry, but doona cause a scene. Perhaps speak with Tristan, but nay too much,” William explained.
“Aye, I hate tae leave ye Amelia, but William is right. For appearances tae be kept, I should be seen.”
“I’ll be fine here in the room. What I want to know is more about tomorrow morning. If we go through with this trial, what is the risk, not only to me, but to Gavin, our families, and the MacLeod clan?” Amelia asked. “On its face, as you explain, William, it seems like a way out, but surely Laird Cabduh will be incensed when the outcome doesn’t go his way?” She was a smart lass, indeed. Gavin knew she carried the weight of her choice to keep the search for her brother. He wished there was a way to help ease her guilt. All men and women had to suffer the consequences of their decisions, but if he could keep Amelia from feeling those consequences too keenly, he would try. He looked to William to answer the lass’ question.
“Well, I agree with ye, lass. There is always a risk that Cabduh is truly out of his mind, and not just as stubborn horses are. When th’ men find ye not guilty of the crimes he’s laid before ye, he may try tae harm ye, or worse,” William said, his tone taking on a serious air that stilled the room.
“If the old man tries to harm so much as a hair on Amelia’s head, I’ll run him through.” Gavin would not risk her. “Did Tristan and his father arrive with any other men?” Gavin wondered if Laird Cabduh was already working on his alternative plan should the outcome of the trial not go his way.
“Ye weren’t in th’ room, lad, but Cabduh is not long for this world. He may try and start a clan war over the lass, but my nephew and I’m guessin’ yer brother will nay allow it. When all is said and done, I believe the stubborn old Laird will nay go down without a fight, but it won’t be at the expense of his clan.”
“So, the risk of the trial is, it may not matter what the outcome is, Laird Cabduh will try to silence me any way.” Amelia put her head in her hands, she was tired, and Gavin did not want to continue the conversation and make it worse. She needed her rest.
“Let’s go through with th’ trial as planned,” he said, nodding for William to take his leave. He would follow. He took Amelia’s face in his hands, “We’ll leave th’ rest of th’ pieces tae fall where they may. Cabduh will make his own decisions, but doona fash, lass, nay harm will befall ye. I’ll only be away from ye as long as necessary this night, and tomorrow all will be well. I swear it.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Amelia knew she should try and sleep. This was her first bed since the inn in Ullapool, and it felt like years had gone by with her sleeping on hard floors or the cold ground. Yet sleep would not come.
Were she not under strict orders from Liam to stay hidden in the room, Amelia might have liked to wander the keep. learn about the place where her brother had grown up. Learn about the type of life a highlander had. But she would not disobey. Instead, she laid in the soft pallet bed and thought of Gavin.
As if conjuring him with her thoughts, the door creaked open, and Gavin moved silently into the room. Immediately as if touched by God himself, all her worries faded. She trusted Gavin, more than she trusted even her own sister.
“You’re back,” she whispered.
“Aye, lass. An’ ye should be sleeping.” He moved silently toward the hearth and Amelia did not look away as he removed first his leggings, then his sporan, and plaid. He stood facing the warm heat and added a log in nothing but his long shirt. Even though the fabric hung almost to his knees, Amelia felt her heart quicken. He was lean and strong. She had not had the opportunity to look at him unencumbered before, and she as amazed but he strength in each muscled section of his body. Awareness climbed down her spine and wrapping itself like arms around her center where a heat of yearning began to form.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Nay, I didnae suppose ye would, as much as ye need tae.”
“Was it bad out there? Is th’ Laird Cabduh much disturbed?” She felt as if she were asking it casually as one would ask after an elderly aunt, but the truth was she was desperate for news. Hoping Gavin would tell her the old Laird choked on his meat, or simply died during the pie. But those thoughts would do her no good. She knew to be better than the old man who wished her ill.
“He is, lass. Shot daggers at me th’ whole night. I doona think he cares much for me. Can’t say that I blame him, I did lie tae him in order tae find ye.” She knew he had, but still he
aring Gavin put words to what she knew would be true didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“This is all my fault. All of it,” She sat up bringing the wool around her to protect from the night chill, but also to protect herself from the demons that absorbed her thoughts. “We would not be here. We would not be going through any of this if I had simply listened to you back at Cadney and waited for you to return, Gavin. I should have listened.” She felt the grief wash over her, and before she could choke out a sob, Gavin was beside her in the bed, holding her tightly.
“Hush now, lass. ’Tis true this would be easier if ye’d listened tae me, but mayhap I was wrong tae try and keep ye from yer quest.”
“How were you wrong,” she asked. “Look where we are, this is all a disaster.”
