Highland Sanctuary (10 page)

"I'm looking forward to an afternoon of fellowship and great food." Her mother stood. "No cooking this evening. Won't that be a treat, Gunna?"

Serena's words of protest died on her tongue.

"What?" Gunna wrinkled her brow and cupped her ear.

Serena's mother repeated herself, louder, as others filed into the center aisle.

"Allow me." Gavin appeared by Gunna's side holding out his elbow.

He winked at Serena. She pressed her lips together and looked elsewhere to avoid succumbing to his charm. He was only here for a short while. Heartache lay on the other side of risking her heart. She wanted no part of it.

Something charged at the kirk door and rattled the building so hard it sounded like it would come right through. Gavin braced himself as several women screamed in fright. Men murmured and stunned expressions were exchanged among the congregation.

"What was that?" Leith stepped around Kyla and wiggled the latch. It was unlocked, but wouldn't open. He shoved his shoulder against the wood door. "We're barred in somehow."

Serena's breath hitched in her throat as she turned to Gavin. He tried to mask his confusion. Serena bit her bottom lip and twisted her hair around her finger in a nervous habit. "Could a large tree have fallen across the front entrance?"

"Mayhap," he said, unwilling to say anything further until he knew more. This wasn't what they had in mind when they decided to set this trap. And where were the men they left behind? Could someone have gotten to them as well?

"What's that smell?" Cara's voice carried above the grumbling murmurs throughout the sanctuary. "Something's burnin'!"

"She's right." Leith dropped to his knees. "There's a wee bit of smoke floating under the door."

Several women screamed in alarm. Other men rushed at the door. People moved in every direction.

"There's no windows." Rosheen pressed herself against the wall. "How will we breathe until we're rescued?"

Lavena went over to comfort her.

"Where is Quinn when we need 'im?" Birkita asked.

"We're in a bad way, aren't we?" Gunna looked at Serena, her eyes misting.

"We'll be fine, Gunna. Ye'll see." Serena clutched her arm, looking up at Gavin for confirmation.

"Aye, we've enough strong men to break through the door." Gavin assured her. "If the women and children will move to the other end at the pulpit, we can use one of the pews to bust through the door." Gavin raised his voice to be heard above the chaos.

"An excellent idea!" Father Tomas waved them toward him. "Come! This way."

The men rocked a pew until they ripped it from where it was nailed to the floor. They carried it up the center aisle. "All right, men," Gavin said. "On three. One. Two. Three!" They charged down the aisle. The pew cracked the door, but didn't break it. "Again!"

"I hear Phelan barking," Carla said.

"Then Quinn must be coming," Birkita said.

"Again!" Gavin directed the men forward.

"They better hurry." Gunna coughed. "The smoke is gettin' thicker."

"Ladies, let's pray," Father Tomas said, leading them in the Lord's Prayer.

The door gave way, splitting in two, revealing a wagon of burning hay that had been rammed at the front entrance. The wooden steps were broken and had taken the brunt of the blow. Phelan continued barking as Quinn shoved a plank from beneath the back wheels. "Hurry!" Quinn yelled. "Two MacKenzie men went for a couple of barrels of water I'd saved for the feast. We've got to keep the kirk from catching fire."

With the plank discarded, Quinn pulled the wagon away. While people escaped, the other two MacKenzie men who had not attended kirk returned with barrels of water on a small cart. They dumped it on the fire and wet their plaids to beat out the rest of the small flames. Within moments, the fire smoldered to ashes. They had saved the kirk and everyone's lives.

"Who would do such a thing?" Serena asked her mother once they were outside, breathing fresh air.

"I know not." Evelina shook her head, a sad expression lingering in her eyes.

"We have much to celebrate and be thankful for," Tomas said. "Let's go to Quinn's cottage and have our feast as planned."

"Someone just tried to murder the whole village," Kyla said, pulling her plaid tight around her shoulders, an angry glare in her eyes.

"But they didn't succeed, and we shouldn't let them. We canna allow fear to rule us. That's what they intended— to frighten us." Tomas looked at his congregation. "If they intended real harm, they would have set larger fires all around the kirk ensuring no escape."

"Tomas is right," Gavin spoke up. He looked at Quinn and the two men who had not attended kirk. "Did any of ye see aught?"

They shook their heads.

"We heard the wolf," one of them said.

"Aye." Quinn nodded. "I knew his bark was different this time. I left Beacon to tend to the roasting pigs and came to see what was wrong."

"I agree with Tomas," Gavin said, waving everyone toward Quinn. "Let's go have our feast."

As the others griped, but fell into step behind Quinn, Gavin grabbed the two men who weren't in kirk. "Where were the two of ye? What were ye doing while someone was ramming a wagon on fire into the kirk?"

"Ye said to check out the villagers that were left behind. We were in the woods watching Quinn and Beacon. Whoever did it, we can assure ye it wasn't them," one man said while the other nodded.

"Fine. Go with the others." Gavin rubbed his neck as he took a lingering look at what almost happened. "Lord, thank ye for protecting us all. Help us find out who is doing this. Reveal him to us. Give me wisdom in how to catch this person and how to protect these people. In Jesus' name. Amen."

He arrived at Quinn's cottage where two pigs churned on a spit over a fire. A couple of the village fiddlers perched on logs and belted out a lively ditty. Gavin watched as sad faces glanced around them in worry. It might take a while for them to get in a cheerful mood.

Quinn related the fire incident to Beacon, who paced in angry strides.

"Lads, the women and children are quite shaken. We need to show them a good time and get their minds off what happened," Tomas said. "Go find a partner."

A few minutes later, Beacon swung around in a circle, halfskipping and hopping with Rosheen. For a short lass, she shadowed him by more than a foot. The sight amused Gavin. He grinned as their free spirit soon spread to others. Soon Gavin's hand tapped his thigh in rythym to the fiddles.

Craig held Cara's hand and they joined in the dancing. She stared outward holding onto him, trusting his lead.

"Looks like people are beginning to recover." Leith stepped beside him. "I intend to find me a young lass to dance with and make merry."

"Be careful, Leith." Gavin warned. "Ye aren't home and the lasses here aren't used to yer charming ways."

"I'll be a perfect gentleman. Ye have my word." Leith grinned, spreading a hand over his heart in a gesture of good faith.

"Ye'd better." Gavin gripped his brother's shoulder. "In the meantime, I have my eye on a lass I've been hoping will agree to dance with me."

"Serena Boyd, no doubt?" Leith raised a dark eyebrow. "I'm surprised ye've waited this long. Better hurry. I think ye may soon have some competition." Leith nodded in the direction behind Gavin.

Iain MacBraigh rode up on a brown stallion. The animal looked to be the best piece of horse flesh he'd seen since they'd come to Caithness. People paused to stare. Gavin could only assume his appearance at such an event was rare in the village.

Iain dismounted and glanced in Serena's direction before striding over to Gavin and Leith. "Father Tomas told me about today's feast. I hoped to make it to kirk this morn, but I had a new foal born. I didn't like the idea of spending the rest of the afternoon alone."

"Loneliness has a way of eating at a man." Gavin nodded in understanding. "It can fill him with depressing thoughts that torment his soul."

"That's easy to fix." Leith beamed with confidence. "Find a bonny lass and dance."

Iain leaned over and patted Leith's arm. "Excellent advice, my friend." He looked around. "Serena doesn't seem to be taken. Mayhap she'll oblige me." He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath. "Wish me luck, friends."

Gavin folded his arms as he watched Iain approach Serena. His gut twisted in regret that he hadn't acted sooner. "I'll wish ye no such thing," he muttered in a lowered tone.

"Ye waited too late, Gavin." Leith clucked his tongue, swinging his head from side to side.

"Aye." Gavin rubbed his chin. "Iain's the laird and her boss. 'Twill be hard for Serena to say nay to him, but she canna dance every song with him."

S
erena could feel Gavin's gaze upon her as Iain swung her around to the fiddler's tune. While Gavin's red locks shone bright in the sun, Iain's auburn hair was a shade darker, matching his hazel eyes. He wore a mustache and no beard.

It felt strange to be dancing with the man she worked for, but he seemed not to notice as he laughed and enjoyed himself. They had little opportunity to talk as the rhythym kept them hopping to the beat. By the end of the dance, her heart pounded and she struggled to catch her breath. She touched her hand to her chest as she stepped to the side.

"Would ye like to continue on with the next dance?" Iain asked.

"Nay." Serena clutched her stomach. "I'd like to rest for the moment and mayhap I'll dance again later."

"If ye're quite certain?" Iain raised an eyebrow.

"I am." Serena nodded. "Thank ye for being an excellent partner."

Iain bowed and turned to ask Birkita for the next dance. She smiled and nodded.

Someone held out a wooden goblet of mead in front of Serena. She accepted the drink and glanced over her shoulder to see Gavin smiling down at her. "I thought ye could use this."

"Thank ye." She took a sip, letting the liquid burn down her parched throat. "Why haven't I seen ye dance?"

He glanced down at his feet and smiled, as if hiding something.

"Come now, Gavin. Surely ye can dance?" She laughed. "I canna imagine the next clan chief of the MacKenzies unable to dance a simple country dance."

"The truth, Serena?"

"Aye, sir." She nodded. "Confess the truth."

"I've been waiting," his blue gaze captured hers, "for ye."

How prophetic she could have taken that statement—after all, Leith had said Gavin was a score and ten years. Why had he waited so long to marry? What harm could it hurt to pretend for an hour that she was Gavin's divine appointment? Afterward, their lives would go in their separate directions once again.

But for now, she could pretend. Dream . . . that she was normal.

"Then I daresay yer wait is over." She took another swallow of the mead and set it down on a nearby table. "For on this day, I've decided I shall forget all of life's unkindnesses and enjoy myself."

"Don't worry. We'll figure out who blocked us all in the kirk and set fire to the wagon."

Serena nodded, content to let him believe she referred to the kirk accident. Instead, her mind drifted to that overcast day when she was eight and they were in Braighwick for supplies. A woman had been condemned as a witch, tied to a stake, and set on fire. Her mother had hidden Serena's eyes, but she couldn't stop the heart-wrenching screams, which continued to haunt Serena through adulthood.

In that moment, her faith that God would save and protect her vanished. He would no more save her than he had that woman. That was why her mother had moved her to the village and wouldn't allow anyone to know about her fits. The villagers didn't discover her secret until she had a fit in front of them during one of her fittings with Kyla when she was ten and three.

If her mother truly trusted God to take care of them, Serena knew she wouldn't be so fearful and dependent upon the sanctuary of their village. Serena feared a similar fate as that woman, and she'd do everything in her power to keep hidden and stay safe.

The current song ended. Gavin held his hand out to her and smiled. Serena placed her small hand in his, determined she would make enough memories of this day to last her a lifetime. It was the best she could ever do under the circumstances.

His warm hand circled hers in swaddled security, leading her to the line with the others. The fiddlers began a new song. Someone kicked off the dance with a loud yelp and everyone moved at the same time.

Gavin swung her around to face him and grabbed both her hands as their feet kicked and their bodies moved and swayed around the circle with other dancers.

Serena loved these gatherings in her village. Very few rules existed with the exception of having fun. Of course, they rarely had so many young men. Gavin and his warriors changed things—for her he changed everything.

She had never known a man to make her heart race or the blood pound in her head the way Gavin did. Since his arrival, she found herself more self-conscious of her blundering behavior, the condition of her windblown hair, and what he thought of her. No one else's opinion mattered as much, not even Iain's, except where her work was concerned.

Caught up in the delight of the moment, Serena swung on Gavin's arm and leaped in the air at the same time as the other women. He laughed as she bounced back into the fold of his arms. Together, they moved in harmony, lithe and free. She had never enjoyed herself so much. Gavin had a way of making her feel comfortable as he encouraged her into trying new steps in the next dance.

Serena didn't want to stop, but she was parched. When Gavin finally led her to the side, he didn't let go of her hand as Iain had done. He stared down at her, his blue eyes crisp and full of brightness that seemed to echo right into her very heart.

"Ye're an excellent dancer," he said. "I count myself most fortunate to be one of yer partners."

"And because of today's feast, I'll accept yer flattery." She smiled, aware that the pad of his thumb now circled over the top of her hand.

"Gavin!" Iain strode up. "Father Tomas told me about the kirk incident."

"Aye." Gavin nodded. "Serena, I enjoyed dancing with ye, but I regret that duty now calls."

"I understand." She turned to go, but Gavin didn't yet relinquish her hand. Instead, he lifted her fingers to his lips and placed a kiss upon the top of her knuckles and bowed. "Thank ye, my lady."

Her heart swelled with tenderness for this man. He knew very well that she wasn't a proper lady, but he understood that she had wanted to pretend just this once—and he had joined her in the the game—because he understood her.

Gavin told Iain all he knew about the fire at the kirk and then relayed the cow murder incident. Leith had joined them in Iain's library.

"I don't understand why someone would do this against the villagers." Iain shook his head as he paced in front of the unlit fireplace. "It doesn't make sense. What would anyone gain by it?"

"That's why we're so addled," Leith said.

"Do ye know if any of the villagers have enemies in the town of Braighwick? Mayhap someone from there could be doing all these strange things." Gavin peered at Iain, hoping something would bring about his memory. He crossed his booted ankle over his knee.

"I confess. I don't know as much about the villagers as I probably should," Iain said, rubbing his mustache in thought. "We may have to take Father Tomas into our confidence. I canna think of anyone who would know more about them."

"All right," Gavin said. "We'll visit him on the morrow." He cleared his throat. "What about this cousin who tried to dispute yer uncle's will? Do ye think it would benefit us to meet him?"

"Aye, he wrote a letter chastising me for not introducing him to the heir of Clan MacKenzie." Iain leaned his elbow on the mantle. "I suppose I'll have to invite them over."

"Does he live close enough to send someone to the village to do these things?"

"But why would he? It's my estate and castle he wants. What would the villagers have that he could possibly want?" Iain raised his hands and began pacing again. "Hogan Lennox is the Earl of Caithness. He already has a sizeable estate, but he only has a cozy stone manor. A castle like Braigh would make him look even more mightier than he already is."

"Granted, the issue with yer cousin could be unrelated to what is happening to the villagers." Leith scratched the side of his dark head. "I'm only sorry the two who stayed behind didn't see aught."

"'Twas an excellent plan, Leith," Gavin said. "We canna get discouraged and give up. The answers are somewhere around us. We must find them."

"The villagers may be a wee slow, but they aren't complete simpletons," Iain said. "They are bound to know something is going on by now—and mayhap frightened. And they have every right to be."

"We could station a few men to stay in the village on rotation." Leith leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and linked his hands. "That might ease their fears and instill a little more security. The rest would be here working on the castle and making sure things are fine here."

"Let's do that." Iain nodded, walking over to a chair and taking a seat. "I'll work on an invitation to bring my cousin and his family."

"And we'll talk to Father Tomas and see if there are any villagers who might have some enemies in Braighwick." Gavin stood. Leith followed.

"At least we have a plan to move us forward," Iain said. "Let's pray naught worse happens in the meantime."

The laird wanted to see her. The moment Doreen came for her, Serena fought a nervous foreboding. She fretted all the way up the stairs, wringing her hands like a lass in trouble. She searched her memory, but couldn't think of a task she'd neglected.

Her worn soles made no sound as she approached. The door stood ajar. She forced herself to step through it. Iain MacBraigh sat at his desk writing. He didn't notice her until he looked up to redip his quill and paused. His gaze traveled up the length of her, meeting her gaze.

"Why didn't ye make yer presence known?" He set the quill aside and leaned back, linking his fingers over his flat belly. A piece of auburn hair fell over his forehead, almost covering one hazel eye.

She disliked being studied, but what else could she do but bear it? Iain MacBraigh was her superior in every way. Serena cleared her throat. "Ye seemed so intent upon what ye were doing that I didn't wish to disturb ye. I'm sorry if ye feel I was eavesdropping, but I assure ye, I wasn't."

"So direct." A slow smile eased across Iain's face, relaxing his firm features. "That's what I like about ye, Serena Boyd. No airs. No silliness. Only honesty. Serenity—the kind a man like me craves. I think yer name suits ye well. It isn't Scottish, yet ye say ye've lived in the village yer whole life?"