Highlander 0f The Woods (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Alisa Adams

  Now was the moment Daniel had been waiting for.

  “May I make a suggestion, Hugh?” he asked. “Tell me if you do not agree.”

  Hugh nodded. “Do so.”

  “Let me help him for the first two years or so,” he offered, his voice calm and reasonable. “I am the estate manager there now anyway. I was going to leave when they were married so that Hugh could appoint someone he wanted, but now I think that perhaps it is better that I stay for a little while.”

  Hugh nodded, and Daniel could see that he made all the decisions without consulting his wife at all. This was getting better and better. Now he knew that he only had to manipulate one of them.

  “That is a good plan,” Hugh agreed. “My son is a leader rather than a follower at the moment, and he will have to grow into that role.”

  “I will also need some say in how Vanora is treated,” Daniel went on. “I would like to appoint a completely new staff for her—maid, bodyguard, and any other servants she may need. Judging by what has happened already, I do not think she is able to look after herself properly, and I would like her to be separated from her sisters, for all their sakes.”

  “What you have suggested so far sounds very reasonable,” Hugh Devine Senior said. “In spite of what I said earlier, I do think we are dealing with the right man. Thank you, Daniel.”

  “Thank you both for your faith in me.” He smiled and saw them out, bowing to both of them.

  When he had closed the door behind them, he smiled and poured himself a celebratory whiskey.

  When Vanora saw Rory she was heartbroken. He was lying at the back of a cell on a floor strewn with filthy straw, and his feet were black with bruises from being bumped against the stairs. He was bleeding from his nose, even though she had not seen anyone hitting him there, and one of his eyes were purple and swollen shut. There was a hideous red mark around his throat where one guard had tried to choke him, and he had a lump above his left ear where the sword had struck him. She could not see another lump; it was probably at the back of his head.

  Why did they do this? she thought, her heart filled with pity and love. He is such a gentle soul. All he did was defend himself.

  “Rory,” she said in a low voice so that the jailers would not hear what she was saying. “Rory, can you open your eyes?”

  Rory heard her voice, and he tried to obey her, painfully and with a great effort, but his left eye would not open at all. Every part of him ached or stung and he groaned as he looked at the face that was the dearest in the world to him. He knew he looked frightful enough to scare her badly, but he had never been so glad to see anyone in his life, and a wave of love washed over him, which made him forget everything for a moment but the pity and anger in her silver-gray eyes.

  “Vanora,” he uttered hoarsely. His throat was raw and he felt as though he had swallowed thorns. “Dinnae look at me, hen. I must look like a monster.”

  “You will never look like anyone else but the man I love,” she replied, trying to summon up a smile, but it was impossible. “They call themselves civilized and Christians and yet they can do something like this!” she raged furiously. “I do not understand, Rory!” She shook her head in despair. “I am going to see that you get out of here, but in case I cannot I will make you more comfortable. What happened to your eye?”

  “I think they punched me while I was no’ able tae defend myself,” he replied. “Please go, Vanora. I do not want ye seein’ me like this.”

  “You did not poison him, did you, Rory?” she asked quietly. “Because I would not blame you a bit if you did.”

  “I should be hurt that ye asked me that,” he said, before a fit of coughing took him. “No, I did not, Vanora. If I were goin’ tae poison anyone, it would have been McKay.”

  She laughed softly, and then he crawled across the cell towards her. She touched his face with her fingers, examining all his cuts and bruises. He flinched and gritted his teeth as she touched some tender spots, but he said nothing. Presently, he felt her soft lips on his as she kissed him as best she could through the bars, and he moaned with relief and joy. It was the sweetest thing he had felt all day and he reveled in it, opening his mouth to her as her lips caressed it and she stroked his tongue with hers.

  He had never felt as helpless as he did at that moment, though. He wanted to throw the cell doors open and pull her to him, then ravish her lips with his and hold her close for as long as it took for him to heal. Then they would creep away to a peaceful place where they could shut the whole world out.

  Eventually, she drew away from him, and he saw a glint of determination come into her eyes.

  He saw her march down the corridor for a few moments then he heard her speaking politely to one of the guards. “It seems that you all have seen fit to mete out some more so-called ‘justice’ to my bodyguard.” Her voice was loud and furious.

  Vanora was standing in a circle of four men, but three of them immediately pointed to the other, and she recognized him as the one who had hit Rory with a sword hilt. “What is your name?” she asked threateningly.

  “Robertson, milady,” he replied, swallowing nervously.

  Vanora held out her hand. “Give me your sword,” she ordered.

  The guard unsheathed the short sword he wore while on duty then held it out to Vanora. She was quite used to handling a short sword due to Rory’s tutoring, so when she hefted the weapon in her hand it felt comfortable. It had a long handle which ended in a knob, so she gripped the part closest to the blade and brought the knob crashing down on Robertson’s temple twice. The second time he fell to the floor and lay there, holding his bruised and bloody wound and howling with pain.

  “We are not quite even yet but I will leave the rest of the justice to my friend when he gets out.” She threw the sword at one of the other guards and he had to duck to avoid it. “Then you will be really sorry.”

  She went back to Rory’s cell. “I am going to send down a few things that will help you to be more comfortable,” she told him, casting a glance around the cell. “The pigs at my estate live better than this. Wait for me, my love.” She gave him one last soft kiss and left.

  Rory sighed. His wounds were still smarting and he was terrified of what would happen in the next few days, but he could cope with anything as long as Vanora still loved him.

  14

  Daniel McKay was beginning to act as if the entire Devine household and estate were his own, as he had planned from the very beginning. Even Laird Devine the Elder was beginning to defer to him, albeit unconsciously. He asked Daniel’s advice about everything now, and Margaret was completely besotted with him because he treated her with respect and even admiration when it suited him. Daniel was an expert in the art of bending people’s will to suit his own, and he had charmed Margaret to such an extent that she would even stand up to her husband on occasion, something she had never dared to do before.

  At the same time as Vanora was speaking to Rory, Daniel was sitting in the dining room waiting for her to arrive, but she was late, something that irritated him immensely since he hated any waste of his time. He had been planning to go hunting with one of the local lairds to establish closer ties with him. After all, a little influence went a long way in his experience. He wondered if she was tarrying in her bedroom to spite him and if he should go up and bang on her door to show his displeasure, then haul her downstairs. Indeed, he was contemplating doing this very thing when she arrived.

  He had never seen her look so angry. She was crimson with fury and her eyes were blazing with it. Her dress was soiled with mud at the front and there were spots of blood on it, but she was not hurt.

  “What happened to you?” he asked, getting to his feet. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she replied grimly. “But someone else is. The guards down in the cells thought it would be a good idea to punish Rory a bit more, so they blackened his eyes and bruised a bit more of his body. I redressed the balance a little.”

  “Why are you tell
ing me this?” Daniel asked, shrugging. “Tell Laird Hugh.”

  “It seems that you are the new person in charge,” Vanora replied.

  “I am not,” he said, shaking his head, “but I will ask Hugh to discipline the guards if it makes you feel better.”

  “It would make me feel much better if you and Hugh Senior would let him out of there!” she thundered. “He has done nothing wrong.”

  “Except trying to poison your betrothed and attempting to seduce you.” Daniel’s voice was calm and silky smooth. Snakes sound like this, Vanora thought, as she glared at him.

  “He did neither,” she said, trying to even out her breathing and calm down. “He has protected me from harm all along, but his actions do not include poisoning Hugh. Please give up your scheme to make me marry Hugh. He is repulsive to me and I will not submit to him.”

  Daniel sat back in his chair and stared at her. His expression was unfathomable, but it made her deeply uneasy. At last, he sighed, and then he leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “No,” he said simply.

  She looked into his eyes, which had suddenly become hard and hostile.

  “Hugh and I have talked about this, and neither of us is willing to let him out of the dungeon. We will take him to the justices with our evidence and allow him to speak for himself if you cooperate.”

  “And if I do not?” Her voice was trembling as she spoke because she knew what his answer would be.

  “Then he will hang without speaking a word in his own defense,” her uncle replied. “So I recommend that you marry young Hugh, no matter how unwilling you are, and you will have to sacrifice a few things.”

  “A few more things, you mean,” she said bitterly. “Please tell me the worst now, Uncle, and get it over with.” She put her elbows on the desk and buried her head in her hands.

  “Very well.” Daniel cleared his throat. “You will submit to Hugh in all things, especially in the bedchamber. You will be in your own suite of rooms with him, of course.” Daniel held up his hand as he saw her opening her mouth to object. “Wait and hear me out, Vanora. You will dress as he wants you to, he will appoint your lady’s maid and bodyguard, and they will be answerable to him. You may see your sisters in the afternoon only, from noon ’til mid-afternoon. The rest of the time they will have the services of a lady’s maid and a tutor and will stay in the east wing of the castle, and if you do not like that idea they will be sent to the St. Margaret convent in Ullapool. They will be married when they are of age, and the groom will be chosen by Hugh and by me. You may see your friends by appointment, and only if young Hugh approves of them. You will only go out riding with a guard, who will also be your new personal bodyguard. Is anything unclear to you?”

  Vanora’s mouth had dropped open in astonishment and horror. “That will be like living in prison!” she cried. “I would rather be dead!”

  Daniel gave her a cynical smile. “You have been allowed too much freedom, Vanora, my dear.” His voice was harsh. “From this moment on you will learn to obey. Believe me, your life will be much easier if you do.”

  Vanora looked around desperately as if seeking a way to escape, but found none.

  “Can you not come and be laird instead?” she asked desperately. “You know how useless young Hugh is.”

  “That is why I am coming to help him for the first two years,” he answered soothingly. “I will not have to change a thing and I know what I am doing since I have been doing it for a long time already.”

  She frowned. “I thought you were going to work for Laird Findlay?”

  He shrugged. “Change of plan. I will keep Hugh in line, do not worry, but I have no wish to be tied down to a lairdship forever. I am sure we can all work together for everyone’s benefit.”

  “What about my benefit?” Vanora growled. “I will be caged like a bird while everyone else is free.”

  “No, Vanora. You will merely be living as a noble respectable young lady should instead of running around like a wild deer. The way you were carrying on with that...woodcutter”—he spat the word out of his mouth as if it disgusted him—“was disgraceful.”

  Vanora was about to open her mouth and shout again but decided it was no longer worth wasting her breath.

  Daniel saw her shoulders slump and her gaze drop to her hands. She had given up the fight, and he felt a surge of triumph.

  “By the way,” he said as he poured them both a glass of wine, “Hugh is on the mend, but he has been asking to see you. You have not been to visit him once since he has been ill.”

  Vanora accepted the glass of wine from her uncle but put it down without tasting it. She was extremely suspicious of him and had been since Hugh’s poisoning. Now she sighed. She supposed she had to accept her fate; she could think of no way to change it.

  “I will go and see him now,” she said dully.

  “Do not forget your wine,” Daniel said, smiling. “And I am glad we talked, Vanora. I feel as if we understand each other better now.”

  Vanora said nothing. She went out to the courtyard and poured the wine into the drainage ditch, and then she trudged upstairs to see Hugh, feeling as though the whole world was on her shoulders.

  When Vanora was admitted to his room and his thin sallow face broke into a delighted smile, she felt a little contrite. She should have come to see him sooner, since she was accepting his hospitality, after all.

  “Vanora!” he cried. “How lovely you are!” He reached out his arms and she had no choice but to go into them. She kissed his cheek then withdrew from him as fast as she could.

  At least he smells good, she thought, detecting the scent of peppermint, which was one of her favorite aromas.

  “How are you feeling, Hugh?” she asked.

  “Much better for seeing you,” he replied. “Mistress McCallum is making me rest. She says it is the best medicine, but I am dying of boredom.”

  “You do not seem too upset that someone tried to kill you,” she remarked, frowning.

  “They have the culprit, do they not?” he asked, then shrugged. “I am no longer worried about it. He will hang and the world will be well rid of him!”

  “No.” Vanora shook her head vehemently. “They do not have the guilty party. Rory is innocent and if he goes to his death it will be a grave miscarriage of justice.”

  “But the bottle in his pocket—” Hugh protested.

  “He would have to have been very stupid to leave that there,” Vanora pointed out. “If I were a murderer I would have gotten rid of it at the first opportunity.”

  “He is in love with you, is he not?” Hugh’s pale face was beginning to show a trace of annoyance.

  Vanora nodded. “And I am with him,” she replied firmly.

  For a moment, Hugh looked shocked, and then his expression hardened into anger. “It is his misfortune, then, that you are marrying me.”

  Vanora had somehow convinced herself that Hugh might be a little understanding, but she was wrong. “Yes I am Hugh, and I will do my best to be the best wife I can be. Now I must go to see my sisters. I am glad you are feeling better.”

  “Come and see me later,” he begged.

  “I will,” she promised, although she had no intention of doing any such thing.

  There was a good reason for Daniel’s refusal of the lairdship. He knew that the people of Weir Brae Castle would not accept him since their loyalty was still firmly rooted in the memory of their old laird, John Weir. Daniel was already the estate manager, but he was not well-liked. He would need to change his entire personality to win the favor of these raw, honest people, and it would take time. And that was the reason that he had suggested the idea of helping Hugh instead. Hugh would be an asset, but only a temporary one, for he knew eventually he must strike out on his own—but not straight away. He needed to bide his time and win the people’s loyalty and trust. Then he could make his move. But all of that had to wait for the marriage of Vanora and Hugh.

  15

  When he got to the dunge
on Daniel was surprised to see that Rory Murdoch was wearing clean clothes, was lying on a mattress covered in two warm blankets, and had a parcel of food and a bottle of ale beside him. Clearly Vanora had been looking after him, for this could not be the work of the jailers; it did look as if some of them had set about him after they had brought him downstairs. He had a newly acquired black eye.

  “I see that milady has been supplying you well,” Daniel remarked dryly.

  “She has,” Rory agreed, and then he stood up and came towards the bars of the cell. Daniel instinctively took a step backward, as Rory was intimidating whether or not he was caged. “But never mind that. What is Laird Devine going tae dae wi’ me?”

  “He is going to do what is normally done with thieves, murderers, rapists, and poisoners,” Daniel said with a satisfied smile. “He is going to hang you.”

  If Daniel had expected even a flicker of fear in Rory’s eyes, he was disappointed. Rory’s gaze moved slowly up and down over his captor with withering scorn. His light brown eyes, usually so gentle, looked like marbles.

  “I see,” he said calmly. “An’ the marriage o’ Lady Weir and Laird Devine is still going ahead?”

  “Why should it not be?” Daniel asked. “They are ideally suited to each other.”

  “Aye, they say opposites attract,” Rory remarked in a scathing tone. “But in this case it doesnae work. Opposites push each other away. Beauty rejects ugliness as it always will. Ye can force Vanora into a marriage with a man she hates, but she will escape—I know her well—and she might even kill herself tae dae it. Somehow or other she will get out of his clutches. But why would ye want tae do such a thing anyway? Why would it make ye happy to see her so miserable?”