Highland Captive

by Alyson McLayne

  He looked back to see her staring wide-eyed at the cathedral. It just looked like a half-finished stone church to him, albeit on a much grander scale.

  “Who’s the master builder?” she asked, her tone almost reverent.

  “A mason by the name of Cinead O’Rourke—an Irishman. Our old mason, Archi, was retired and living in Edinburgh when my mother convinced him to come work for us. He died at the end of last summer after falling from one of the scaffolds.”

  Deirdre’s eyes widened. “Archibald Cameron?”

  “Aye. Did you know him?”

  “I knew of him.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, a fall like that isna uncommon for a master builder. And if they doona die from the impact, they may lose the use of their legs. Had he been with the cathedral since the beginning?”

  “Aye. After he died, Master O’Rourke came to visit—not knowing, of course, about the accident. He’s an old apprentice of Archi’s, and he was saddened to see his mentor’s work unfinished and languishing.”

  “So you gave him the job.”

  “Not at first. But after I read some of the letters between him and Archi, I knew it’s what Archi would have wanted. And I doona know when I would have had time to search out a new master builder.”

  They came to a stop in front of three steps that led to a door under an archway. His men spread out around the entrance.

  “Ewan, look,” Deirdre said excitedly, pointing up to where the MacKinnon family crest was carved on the middle stone of the archway. “That’s called the capstone. It’s the very last stone to be placed when you build an arch of any size, and when it goes in, it locks all the other stones in place, so they stay up on their own. If the capstone comes loose, the whole structure will collapse.” She hugged Ewan, her fear of being in the saddle apparently forgotten in her excitement over the cathedral. “Can you imagine how loud that would be? A great, big crash!”

  She made a crashing noise, and Ewan copied her. And she didn’t even protest when he shook his arms and body. Instead, her eyes scanned the rest of the building—stone walls halfway built on one side, a vaulted roof towering upward at the far end. “I know it doesn’t look like much because this arch here is small, but some arches in the great cathedrals soar as high as the tallest trees you’ve ever seen—even taller. And all because of this wee stone at the top.”

  “Higher than a mountain?” Ewan asked.

  “Higher than some mountains, for certain. Think about the blocks you build castles with in your chamber, and how hard it would be to get them to stay up in an arch like this.”

  Ewan squinted at the doorway in front of him and then farther up to the arch towering six or seven stories at the end of the building. “I could do it.”

  Gavin huffed out a pleased laugh.

  “Aye, you could with the right tools, that’s for certain,” Deirdre said. “You’d need a compass, a set-square, a plumb line—”

  “What’s a plumb line?”

  “It’s a ruler with a string attached that has a weight tied to the bottom. When the ruler is level, the string hangs down in a straight line. The mason uses it to measure if the rocks are in alignment. Maybe someday your da will take you to some of the cathedrals we have here in Scotland.”

  “Maybe we can take your mother as well,” Gavin said.

  Her eyes jumped to his, filled with…hope? Aye, she looked hopeful and pleased. Suddenly, his first priority was to take both of them to see the cathedrals as soon as Ewan was old enough. Maybe someday they’d even cross to the mainland to see the great churches of Europe.

  “And do you know how they build cathedrals, Ewan?” Deirdre asked.

  “With stone. I can see it right there.” He pointed to the wall.

  “Aye, but they use geometry and arithmetic to know where to place the stones and how big and what shape each stone should be—just like you do with me when we draw triangles and rectangles. All the measurements are verra precise or the building willna stay up.”

  He made the crashing sound again. Gavin suspected that was the only part of this lecture his son would remember.

  “Aye,” she said with a smile, her eyes still scanning the arched dome at the far end of the building.

  “Can we go inside?” Ewan asked, already scrambling down on his own.

  Gavin reached for him just as Deirdre realized her son was sliding off. She tensed, but Gavin wrapped his hands around the lad on his way down. “I’ve got him.” He put Ewan on the grass, then reached for her. She leaned on Gavin heavily, almost falling into him, and he had to step back to brace himself. He held her close for a moment, savoring the feel of her against him before he set her down. She swayed and then winced.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “A bit sore. ’Twas a difficult ride.” She shot him a sideways look, bordering on condemnation, and he grinned.

  “Not at the end. You seemed to forget you were on top of a horse when you had something else to occupy your mind.”

  She grunted in acknowledgment and moved up the steps toward the door. “It’s so quiet here. I imagined the work on a cathedral would be loud and energetic. Rocks being dumped and chiseled, cranes and pulleys winding up and down, men shouting to one another.”

  “And crashes,” Ewan said.

  “Aye. Maybe they’re having a rest?”

  She was right—something here was wrong. The hairs on the back of Gavin’s neck rose as he pulled her behind him. When was the last time he’d been down here to check on how things were progressing? In the New Year, maybe, and only a few times before that. Had he sensed any problems then? Nay, but the cathedral had held little interest for him. He hadn’t wanted to stay long, especially with the darkness that had overtaken him during the winter months. It had been difficult to search for Ewan then, and he hadn’t had his foster brothers and Gregor to distract him like he had last summer.

  The cathedral had been his mother’s project, and then Archi’s. Now…now maybe Deirdre would take it over.

  He was just about to draw his sword when the door opened inward. A partially bald, middle-aged man, his shoulders straight and broad and his chest muscular, stood in the opening. His ginger-colored beard was scraggly, and he wore a dirty, saffron-colored léine over leather trews. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip, and his eyes darted between Gavin and his men behind him.

  “Laird MacKinnon!” he said with a hint of an Irish accent.

  “Master O’Rourke,” Gavin replied. “We came for a visit, but we didn’t hear any activity.”

  “The men are upstairs having their midday meal. Otherwise, the rock dust gets in their food. They’ll be down shortly.”

  “’Tis a beautiful day. I would have thought you’d be outside?” Deirdre said. She sounded shy yet excited, and looked at O’Rourke with a sweet, expectant smile on her face.

  Gavin felt a kick in his heart; she looked so lovely. He expected to see an enamored look on O’Rourke’s face, but the man’s mouth was slightly pinched, almost like he was annoyed.

  “Not today,” he said.

  Gavin frowned when Deirdre lost her smile and dropped her eyes from the master builder’s. That would not do.

  “This is Deirdre MacIntyre,” he said, his tone silk over steel. “She is my son, Ewan’s, mother. She will be living at the castle with us from now on, and I’m hoping to persuade her to be your contact there. She knows more about cathedrals and their construction than I ever will.”

  Deirdre gasped in surprise as O’Rourke’s eyes widened.

  “Gavin, I will do whatever I can to help you, but are you sure?” she asked. “Isn’t there anyone else with more experience?”

  “I agree, Laird,” O’Rourke said. “I doona think—”

  “Nay. I want Deirdre to do it. I canna think of anyone else who is better qualified. She has a quick mind, a head for math, and a heart f
or cathedrals. You’re fortunate to have her. She’ll also be much more inclined to listen to you than I will.”

  Several heavy footsteps descended a staircase inside, likely the men returning to work, but O’Rourke still hadn’t retreated to let them in. Gavin stepped directly toward the man, their eyes locking. After an almost imperceptible hesitation, O’Rourke backed away and dropped his gaze.

  Gavin reached out his hand for Ewan. “Take my hand, Son. ’Tis not safe to run or play in here.”

  “Aye, Da.” Ewan’s small hand curled into his, and Gavin’s heart squeezed at the feel of it. He looked up, taking a moment to breathe through the tightness in his chest. Deirdre met his gaze, and she smiled. She had to know exactly what he was feeling.

  They moved together into the half-built cathedral. Other than Master O’Rourke, Gavin didn’t recognize any of the laborers, but then he hadn’t paid attention before either. Several men were working at wooden benches, chipping at stones with chisels and other tools. Another man stirred a vat of mortar, then carried it to a far wall with a pile of stones haphazardly dumped beside it. Several wheelbarrows were filled with bigger rocks that were waiting to be sized.

  “I didn’t see any oxen outside, or carts,” Deirdre said. “How are you transporting the rock from the quarry? And I would have thought to see much more rock piled up after the fall and winter months.”

  “They’re in the walls,” O’Rourke said, his shoulders tense and his mouth pulling down at the corners. He did not look at Deirdre. “Did you think we’d waste six months just sitting here? Laird MacKinnon is paying us for our time. I wouldnae squander it.”

  “Oh, well, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I just thought…”

  “Thought what, Deirdre?” Gavin encouraged.

  “That the fall and winter months were used to stockpile more rocks while the mortar set and the stones settled from the spring and summer’s work.”

  Gavin looked over at O’Rourke. Had he made a mistake hiring the man?

  O’Rourke sighed. “Aye, she’s…right. I didn’t want to say it, because Archibald Cameron was my mentor, but when I inspected his work after I arrived, I was surprised to see he’d made little progress the previous year. The rocks in the wall had already settled, and the mortar was dry. We worked hard over the winter to try and catch up.”

  “Was he ill?” Gavin asked. It was possible. Gavin certainly hadn’t been focused on much over the past two and a half years other than helping his brothers and getting his son back.

  “I doona know for certain, but I think so,” O’Rourke said. “Very few of his laymen were still here when I arrived. A few said he’d stopped making much sense when he spoke and had taken to doing strange and dangerous things.”

  Deirdre pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes filled with sadness. “He shouldnae have been climbing the scaffolds any longer.” She looked at the wooden supports that stretched up the walls, holding up the rocks in the ceiling that had yet to be locked in place with a capstone. “’Tis dangerous enough for a younger man with a healthy mind and body. I canna imagine what it must have been like for him.”

  “He died doing what he loved,” the mason said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Gavin asked.

  “You were occupied elsewhere, Laird.” O’Rourke’s eyes fell on Ewan, and the man smiled. “Now that your search has ended happily, you’ll have more time.”

  “Even so, I would have liked a report. Send one immediately if anything else happens.”

  “Aye, Laird.” O’Rourke dipped his head respectfully.

  Ewan had been leaning against Gavin’s leg, watching the master builder, when suddenly he asked, “Where’s your plumb line?”

  O’Rourke stared at the lad blankly, then looked up at Gavin, his brows raised in question. He noticed the mason rarely looked at Deirdre. One of those men who thought women were of lower status than the oxen in the field, perhaps. It would do him good to have to work with Deirdre, so he could see how smart she was—and how capable. And if he refused, Gavin would find another mason. This time with Deirdre’s help.

  “He asked about your plumb line,” she said. “We were talking about the tools a master builder used to build cathedrals—rulers, compasses, plumb lines…”

  O’Rourke nodded stiffly. “It’s upstairs with my other tools. I doona like to leave it lying around.”

  Gavin nodded. “I can understand that. In fact, I doona think I ever saw Master Archibald without his tools in his hands or hanging from his belt.” He looked at O’Rourke’s empty hands and empty belt. “In the whole ten years that I knew him.”

  O’Rourke raised his gaze and looked Gavin in the eye. “We’re an unusual breed, master builders. Every one of us is different. The good thing is I am strong and healthy, and I can easily go upstairs to get my tools—where I left them beside my midday meal before I became aware you were here. Would you like me to bring my plumb line down for the lad to see?”

  Gavin was about to say yes just to irk the man, who was getting on his bad side, when Deirdre spoke instead. “Nay, that willna be necessary. Instead, why doona you give us a tour of the building, and Ewan can see all the different ways geometry has been used to build this cathedral?”

  * * *

  Deirdre sat in front of her bedside table, having removed everything from the top of it and piling it on her bed. She’d then dragged over the chair that had been beside the fire, to begin using the table as a desk.

  The steward had brought her parchments, ink, and a quill earlier, after Ewan had fallen asleep. Deirdre had been working ever since, despite the sputtering of her candle as the wax melted slowly into a puddle.

  She’d added more logs to the fire not long ago, but now the room was too hot. Braiding up her hair and wrapping it on top of her head helped, as did untying the neck of her chemise and pulling the material up over her knees. She was tempted to strip it right off, but just the idea made her nervous. What if someone caught her? And was it possible she wanted to be caught…by Gavin?

  That thought flustered and aroused her, and she had to go back and rework several minutes’ worth of calculations because her mind kept wandering.

  With a sigh, she glanced at her candle. She was running out of time, and she wasn’t even close to figuring out what was wrong with the cathedral. All she knew for certain was that something didn’t seem right. It was obvious Master O’Rourke wouldn’t help her. The only reason he’d even answered her questions was because Gavin was there.

  She sighed and wished she had her old geometry set with her…along with exact measurements from the cathedral. She could only guess at the dimensions of the building right now, since Master O’Rourke had said he didn’t have the exact numbers and would have to look for them. That was something she’d found very odd. She’d imagined the master builder would have all those measurements in his head. Maybe it was different because he hadn’t been the original builder.

  He’d said he would find the measurements and send them to the castle, but he hadn’t done so yet.

  Obviously, he didn’t like her. Whether that was because she was stepping on his toes or because she was stepping on his toes and she was a woman, she didn’t know.

  She wished she didn’t care, but she did. Too many unhappy memories from her childhood. Too many fears making her feel insecure and unlovable.

  Then she heard her son, yelling for her from down the hallway—“Mama!”—and she smiled. Ewan made her feel secure in his love.

  She laid down her quill and crossed the room, chemise dropping back down around her legs and her smile still on her face. Aye, she couldn’t wait to hold her son.

  Just as she opened the door, it occurred to her Gavin might also be waiting for Ewan. She swiveled her head toward his chamber, located next to hers, and found him standing in the doorway, his shirt loosened and
his hair mussed, looking right at her.

  She gasped, warmth flooding through her.

  “Mama!” Ewan yelled as he barreled into her from the other direction, wrapping his arms around her legs.

  “Careful,” she said, as she turned to Ewan and bent over to pick him up.

  Gavin made an odd sound, almost as if he was in pain, and she swung toward him as she settled their son against her body. He’d propped one arm against the doorjamb and leaned heavily against it, his face flushed in the candlelight, his eyes glittering under weighted lids.

  She froze. The only part of her moving was her racing heart. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a breathless squawk. She swallowed and tried again. “Do you want him to sleep with you?” she finally asked.

  He switched his gaze to Ewan and straightened from the doorjamb, then shifted his sporran over the front of his plaid. Was he nervous?

  “Nay, you can have him tonight,” he said, his voice rough. He rubbed his hand over his cheek, drawing her eyes to his hard jaw and strong-looking face. His beard looked in need of a good trim though.

  Ewan lifted his head from her shoulder and stretched his arms and body out toward Gavin. “I want to sleep with Da.” He almost fell, and Gavin moved closer as she tried to balance Ewan again. “Please, Mama.”

  Gavin stroked his hand over Ewan’s head. “Your mother wants—”

  “I doona mind. He can sleep with you if he prefers.” She shifted Ewan to pass him over, but before she could move him away from her body, Gavin slid his hands around his son’s chest. The backs of his fingers and his knuckles brushed against her breasts, right across the straining, sensitive tips. A ripple of need crashed through her body, causing her stomach to clench, her breath to catch, and the muscles on the inside of her thighs to quiver. She pressed them together before she fell and lifted her eyes to his.

  He had stilled, almost like he was now frozen in place, and she could see the hectic, almost wild need in those blue-green eyes—the color even richer, almost magical. Was that…for her? Did Gavin MacKinnon want her?