The Highland Dynasty: The Complete Series

by Amy Jarecki

  Gyllis waved her hands across her body in rapid succession. “Please no. ’Twas an innocent fascination. He did nothing untoward.”

  “No?” Duncan paced. “Then why did John send you home—using a pair of pegs no less?”

  “They’re crutches and they help me move around quite nicely.” Seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from her indiscretion, Gyllis pointed to the buckets. “Besides, your wife found a new treatment the monks hadn’t used. Already this morning I took seven steps on my own.”

  Duncan sat again and frowned.

  “After today’s treatment, I have no doubt I’ll be walking again soon.” She clapped a hand over her heart. “I give you my vow I’ll not become a burden to the family.”

  “Ah, Gyllis.” He draped an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “Is that what you think? You’ll be a burden?” He snorted. “You’re kin. Even if you’d remained bedridden I’d have taken care of you. You ken that do you not?”

  “Aye.” Yet another tear stung her eye. She’d honestly believed Duncan would send her to a nunnery if she didn’t recover. “Thank you.” She allowed herself to exhale. Thank God for John. He hadn’t betrayed her confidence after all. She owed him a debt of gratitude.

  Now to focus all her energy on her recovery—and finding a way to see Sir Sean as soon as possible.

  19

  Sean followed the sentry into the keep. How odd to be escorted. He practically knew Kilchurn Castle better than he did Dunollie. God knew he’d spent more time there. The irony was the woman he couldn’t clear from his thoughts was elsewhere. Though Fraser’s death and the blatant message he’d received from MacCoul weighed heavily on his conscience, he couldn’t ride to Kilchurn without thinking of Gyllis.

  He’d decided to keep his intentions to marry the lass quiet for now. First he needed to see Lorn wed, and deal with MacCoul before he approached Duncan for her hand. I should have hanged the bastard when I had him in my grasp. If it hadn’t been the day of my father’s funeral, I never would have allowed Angus to step in. And now look. My failure has caused the death of one of my closest friends.

  The guard knocked on the door to Duncan’s solar—a place where Sean had spent many hours debating Highland Enforcers’ affairs. Though he didn’t realize it at the time, life had been far simpler before he’d inherited his father’s mantle.

  “Sir Sean MacDougall of Dunollie,” the guard announced, as if Sean needed an introduction.

  Duncan shoved his chair back with a grin. He marched forward and clasped Sean at the elbow and held firm—a more personal greeting than a handshake—the one used by the enforcers. “By God, ’tis good to see you.”

  Sean couldn’t bring himself to smile. “You as well.”

  “Too much time has passed.” Duncan gestured to a seat. “Are you ready to rejoin the enforcers? Tension with England is mounting.”

  “I wish I were.” He sat and leaned back with his knees wide. “Being Chieftain of Dunollie has brought on a host of problems.”

  Duncan moved to the sideboard and pulled the stopper out of a flagon. “I’d agree there. I never had an appreciation for my father’s responsibilities until I stepped into his shoes.” He set a cup in front of Sean and raised the one remaining in his hand. “Let us toast to our clans as well as long health.”

  Sean held up his whisky. “Slàinte.” He sipped and swilled the oaken flavor across his tongue. One thing was always a certainty when he visited Kilchurn. There was no finer whisky in all of Scotland than that from Campbell’s still.

  Duncan took his seat at the head of the table. “So, if you’re not itching to head back to the borders, what brings you to Kilchurn?”

  Sean watched the whisky while he swirled it in his cup. He needed to choose his words carefully, else he’d come across as an incompetent boob. “I’ve some grave news…”

  Looking Duncan square in the eye, he leaned forward on his elbow and started with Alan MacCoul’s banishment from Dunollie lands, the cattle thieving, Fraser’s mission and the return of his body—and the missive. “…now I’ve nay choice but to provide fealty service for Lorn’s wedding.”

  Duncan thoughtfully rotated the cup in his fingers. “You’re worried about a wedding?”

  Sean tossed back the last of his whisky. “The last thing Fraser said was the whore told him MacCoul was amassing an army.”

  Duncan chuckled. “A bedraggled crew, no doubt. It sounds like a gang of renegades. They’d be no match for your trained men.”

  Sean wished he were as confident as his friend. “I’m not so certain. I think they’re organized.”

  “What kind of men would follow a festering pustule like Alan MacCoul? What means has he?”

  “I know not. But my father had an affinity for the bastard.”

  “Well, you’ve put a damper on your da’s former misguided affections.” Duncan rested his elbows on the table. “My bet is he’ll be a thorn in your side until you lure him back to MacDougall land and arrest him—string him up like you should have done after he attacked you. Christ, he challenged you right after you were declared chieftain?”

  “Aye, I ken what I should have done. But now I cannot take a chance on him causing mischief for the Lord of Lorn.” Sean sat taller. “I need your help, Duncan.”

  “’Tis a wedding, no?” The Lord of Glenorchy smirked.

  “Aye, at Dunstaffnage Chapel.”

  “MacCoul would be an idiot to attack you on the king’s lands. Besides, you’ll have your army as well as Lorn’s. Surely you can handle a wee skirmish.”

  “But I won’t have the stealth of the enforcers. I want to establish an impenetrable barrier for my uncle.”

  Duncan sat back and spread his arms to his sides. “’Tis a wedding for Christ’s sake. Worse, it’s John Stewart, Lord of Lorn’s wedding. If I’m there and something does happen, the Stewart Clan will be blaming me.”

  God, the man made Sean’s worries sound daft. But Sean persisted, “You ken I’d vouch for you.”

  “Aye, after the dust settles.”

  “What about sending in a dozen of your best men? They can wear my colors.”

  “All but a handful are on the borders. Wouldn’t get them back here in time.” Duncan shook his head. “Nay, I’d be daft to call them away from the king’s business to stand watch during a wedding.”

  Sean bit the inside of his cheek. “Bloody hell, Duncan. You’re the closest thing to a brother I have.”

  The lord tapped his finger against his cup. “I ken.”

  “Can you not put aside your fealty for Argyll for a wedding and provide some weapons?”

  “That’s just it.” He ground his finger into the board. “’Tis a miserable wedding—hardly something we need an army for. Christ, man, you’ve at least fifty skilled men in Dunollie’s guard. In my opinion, you are overreacting to Fraser’s death. He rode into the wrong camp is all. You know that as well as I.”

  Sean groaned. “When you say it like that, I feel the fool for having traveled so far to gain your audience.”

  “Not at all. I’m always glad to share a tot with you.” Duncan stood and grabbed the flagon from the sideboard. “If you have more trouble with MacCoul’s thugs thieving your cattle, the enforcers will be able to help you. That’s our motto—to support the king and maintain order.”

  Sean watched him fill his cup with another shot of whisky. Had he overreacted? What would his father have done in his stead? He puzzled. The MacDougalls always had their enemies, but Duncan was right. The Dunollie guard posed a force to be reckoned with. Had Sean lost confidence because of his lack of trust? Angus had proved his loyalty. So had the others for the most part. Even Gawen had proved his loyalty when he kicked the stools at the hanging. It was time for Sean to cast his misgivings aside and lean on his own men for support. Besides, Angus might have better luck soliciting help from Eoin MacGregor.

  Sean raised his cup. “I hope I do not have to take you up on that offer. I intend to sq
uash MacCoul the first time he shows his beastly face.”

  Duncan grinned. Sean hadn’t noticed it before, but the Lord of Glenorchy’s smile was dimpled like Gyllis’s. He sipped the fiery liquid. If Duncan had any idea how often he’d seen Gyllis in the past few months, he’d run him out of Argyllshire. I’d best stick with my plan and leave the topic of marriage alone this trip. Duncan is likely to blow hot steam through his ears—just like old times.

  Duncan shoved his chair back. “Of course you’ll stay for the evening meal—head back on the morrow?”

  “I will, thank you. ’Tis a long ride.”

  “Mayhap we can get in a sparring session afore the meal is served.”

  Sean swirled his fingers over the basket-weave pattern on his sword’s hilt. “I’d welcome a healthy round. No one’s given me a good run since you left me on the borders.”

  Duncan clapped him on the shoulder. “’Tis time you groomed a champion. A chieftain should not be the best sword—’tis not healthy for the longevity of the clan.”

  “Oh?” Sean scoffed. “And why have I not seen any Campbell guard best you?”

  The Lord of Glenorchy winked. “I’m working on it.”

  Gyllis sat in the embrasure of her window and stared out over Loch Awe. September was always her favorite month. The warmth of summer lingered, though something in the air warned the nice weather wouldn’t last. It made her anxious to enjoy it all the more. This season it also made her anxious to shed her crutches. She’d been suffering paralysis for so long, she yearned for the days without constant care, when she was free to run and dance.

  The chamber door opened and Helen stepped inside carrying a missive. “Have you a moment?”

  “Meg and her retinue of lasses have come and gone.” Gyllis beckoned her. “What is that?”

  Helen skipped over and sat on the padded bench opposite. “I’ve received a letter from Sir Aleck MacIain.”

  “Honestly?” Hopefully this was a pleasant surprise. Gyllis waggled her eyebrows. “What does it say?”

  “He wrote me a poem and said some nice things.”

  Gyllis rolled her hand. “I’m sure you didn’t come in here to talk about the lovely weather we’re having. Read it to me.”

  Gyllis listened to the love letter. The chieftain’s prose put Helen on a pedestal, reassuring her that all would be well, reinforcing she was needed as the lady of the keep in Ardnamurchan posthaste, and Aleck awaited her arrival with fond anticipation. He even signed it “your servant”. When Helen finished reading, she folded the velum and stared at it with a long sigh.

  “He sounds very nice.”

  She nodded her dun locks and pursed her delicate mouth. Gyllis had always considered Helen a bit frailer. Though now stricken with paralysis, Gyllis figured the tides may have changed in that regard. In so many ways over the past months, Gyllis had doubted herself, feared she would be a burden and hated every moment of her dependence.

  But her sister needed reassurance now more than Gyllis did. “Surely, Sir Aleck’s letter has eased your mind.”

  “Aye.” Helen looked up and smiled—a sad smile all the same. “I believe he has a good heart at least.”

  Gyllis leaned forward and patted her hand. “’Tis a start.”

  Her sister stood and moved to the window, gazing out over the loch. “I shall miss this place.”

  Gyllis scooted along the bench and grasped her hand. “And I shall miss you.”

  “I’m ever so anxious.” She glanced at the crutches. “Would you be up to a stroll?”

  “Aye—let us venture to the battlements.”

  Helen’s gaze dropped to Gyllis’s legs. “Are you able to climb that many steps?”

  “I will not know until I try.” She slid back and plucked her crutches from the floor. “I nearly made it across the chamber without these today.”

  “That is wonderful news, but I’m not certain you should be climbing all the way to the battlements. What if you fall?”

  The more Helen balked, the more Gyllis wanted to cast the blasted crutches aside and race her to the top of the stairwell. If only I could. Mayhap they’d be able to race the next time they were together. “Come. If I fall, I’ll have a wee bruise. If ’tis too far, we shall turn around.”

  Helen giggled. “I suppose I could always ask a young guard to carry you back to your chamber.”

  Gyllis pulled herself to a stand and started toward the door. “Now that’s the best idea you’ve had in ages.”

  “I thought you were head over heels for Sir Sean.”

  “I am. But I’m not dead.”

  Helen followed her into the passageway. “You’re still incorrigible.”

  “And you are still a prude.”

  Giggling, they made their way up through the narrow stone stairwell winding like a spiral to the wall-walk. At the top, Gyllis leaned against the stone battlements to catch her breath. “I cannot believe I used to run up those stairs.”

  Helen fanned her face. “I cannot believe you’ve suffered paralysis and climbed all the way up here with a set of crutches. You are truly amazing.”

  Gyllis chuckled and took in a deep breath. The deep blue water shimmering on the loch caught her eye. She could see for miles. Even the purple heather on the surrounding hills was in bloom. Violets and lavenders climbed for miles up the slopes of Ben Cruachan, the sight was enough to take her breath away. A breeze caressed her face and summer’s fragrance filled her with renewed energy. “This view made our effort worthwhile.”

  Behind them iron clanged. Gyllis snapped her head around and headed across the stone walk to a crenel notch. “Remember when we used to watch Eoin and Sean spar from this very spot?” She poked her head through the gap. Only two men sparred in the courtyard. She instantly made out her brother, but her heart leapt when she recognized the man with his back to her. Only one man on earth could make her heart stutter an arrhythmic beat—make her knees turn into boneless limbs, and most of all, heat pool in the most sacred place of all.

  Tall, wavy, dark hair brushing his nape, built like a prized bull from his broad shoulders to his sturdy hips. “Sean,” Gyllis whispered.

  “Oh, my.” Helen pushed in beside her. “Do you know why he’s here?”

  She gaped at him. “I haven’t a clue.”

  Helen fanned her face. “But he is.”

  Gyllis sighed. “Aye.” Her body went from trembling recognition to floating. Her mind drifted to the night she’d seen him sparring with an imaginary partner completely nude. Sean moved like a cat. His movements so fast, his sword and limbs blurred. His lunges deep, his spins precise, calculated. Duncan kept up, but her brother could hardly match the younger chieftain.

  She could watch Sean forever, her mind’s eye picturing the bulging muscles beneath his linen shirt. The men circled. She could see Sean’s face now. His hawk-like eyes focused on Duncan as if nothing around them could draw his attention away. With the laces of his shirt spread open, his chest glistened with perspiration. Even from five-stories up, Gyllis could see the sheen, and all too well she was familiar with the bands of sinew taut beneath.

  Heat spread throughout her body. Her breasts swelled against her stays. From such distance she could smell his spicy musk soaring up to her with the breeze, as if begging her to float down to his arms. Her lips parted with her stuttered breaths.

  “Och aye, you are smitten.” Helen nudged her. “You should see your face.”

  Gyllis clapped her hands to her cheeks. “’Tis that obvious?”

  Helen laughed. “You may as well hold up a placard that says ‘marry me’.”

  “Oh please, how utterly unheard of.” Gyllis straightened, though she couldn’t bring herself to pull her gaze from the Adonis down below.

  “Come, I ken what we should do.” Helen hastened toward the stairwell.

  Gyllis hobbled after her as fast as she could, her blasted crutches clicking the flagstone.

  “What are you on about?”

  The dun-h
aired lass had never looked like she was up to so much mischief as she did when she stopped at the entrance to the stairwell and grinned. “We’ve not much time to make you look as bonny as a queen.”

  Gyllis’s insides flipped upside down. “I think the idea of matrimony becomes you. You’re not half as dull as you were when we rode onto the Dunstaffnage foregrounds for Beltane.”

  Helen slapped her hand through the air. “Hogwash. I’m as passionate as you. I just do not let everyone know about it as you do.”

  Gyllis tried to keep up with Helen’s fast pace. “Honeyed cryspes? You would have rather sought out food than stroll past a gathering of brawny knights.”

  Helen stopped and faced her. “Ah, but you forget even knighted lads enjoy sweets. Mother doesn’t pay a mind to us if we’re seeking out a treat, silly. I’m not half as dull as you may think.”

  Gyllis covered her smirk with the tips of her fingers and snorted out her nose. Evidently her sister was a master at pretenses. Perhaps she should pay more attention in the future.

  20

  Standing at the well, Sean splashed his face with water and ran his fingers through his hair, shoving it from his eyes. He didn’t have a comb in his kit, so a quick brush with his fingers would have to do. He straightened his sword belt and headed into the keep. He wasn’t enamored with the idea of spending the night, but it would be folly to head home in the dark. Not only would he have to travel through Fearnoch Forest, the delivery of Fraser’s body broadcast loud and clear that Sean’s problems were far from over. Traveling home at first light was his only option.

  Once inside the great hall, he strode through the crowd to the dais. Duncan sat in the lord’s chair at the center of the table with Lady Meg on his right and his mother, Lady Margaret, on his left. If anyone had entered the keep wondering who was lord and master, there would be nary a question. The trio looked as regal as the king’s retinue at court.