Highlander Betrayed (Guardians of the Targe) (30 page)

“I promise to do whatever is within my power.” She swallowed and steadied her shaking hands by grasping her skirts as if they were a lifeline and she were bobbing in the vast ocean all alone. “But I need more help than Jeanette can give me.”

Kenneth glowered at her, but she continued, confident that he would see reason.

“I need you to do two things for me, Uncle.” She relaxed the death grip she had upon her skirts. “I need you to free Nicholas of Achnamara.”

“I will not promise such a thing. I care not what he did for you this day, he is a spy. He will hang.”

Rowan’s breath hitched and pressure once more rose within her. An ominous rattle started at the window and the door. Jeanette grabbed Rowan’s hand and glared at her father.

“Emotion, Da. Emotion is what drives her gift—a gift that allows her to move things with her mind. To threaten him so will not help her control her gift!”

A wind had begun to whip around the edges of the room, even though Rowan was trying with all her might to resist it. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the lurching of her heart.

“I need him, Uncle.” She closed her eyes and tried to will the wind and the rattling to cease. After a long moment, she managed to calm her heart, her fears, and the wind. The rattling still continued, though quieter now.

When she opened her eyes she realized that Jeanette still held her hand, both of them in fact. Duncan and Uilliam had stepped away from her and Kenneth was slowly shaking his head.

“If he hangs… If harm comes to him what will happen?” Kenneth slowly asked.

Rowan looked to Jeanette for the answer, as did everyone else.

Jeanette sighed. “Until she learns to control the gift, I believe she could destroy this entire castle with her grief. ’Tis clear she cares for him, Da. You ken Rowan. You ken what a good judge of character she has always been, seeing into the heart of people as none of the rest of us can.” Her delicate eyebrows drew down and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Perhaps that is a facet of her gift. I need to speak to Mum”—her voice caught. “I will see what I can discover,” she finished, her voice tight and a little higher than usual. It was Rowan’s turn to squeeze Jeanette’s hand in support.

Kenneth ran his hands over his scalp again.

“There was another thing you wished to ask of me,” he said to Rowan.

“There is.” She tried to determine if he had acquiesced on her first request but the man gave nothing away. “We all need Nicholas’s help if we are to keep the clan safe from Archie and whatever mayhem he brings with him. He kens the man as none of us do. He kens what Archie is capable of, what he is likely to do next. We need Nicholas’s help in protecting us long enough for me to learn how to use my gift.”

“We cannot do that, my lassie,” Kenneth said, holding up a hand to stop her from reacting. “I ken you trust him and believe that he intends no harm to us anymore. But I cannot trust him with the lives of all my people, the welfare of my family and my home. I would not deserve to be chief of these good people if I gave my trust so quickly and so easily to someone known to be an enemy.”

Rowan clenched her teeth together to keep from interrupting him. She took great long breaths to try to keep her heartbeat and her emotions steady, even, calm.

Kenneth rose, taking Rowan’s hands from Jeanette’s into his own.

“I would not do anything to bring you grief if it were within my power.”

“But, Uncle, this—”

“Wheesht, lassie, let me finish.”

She nodded, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

“I promise you this: I will bring no harm to Nicholas of Achnamara, or whatever his true name might be, but…” It was Kenneth’s turn to gulp in a great breath and let it out slowly. “But, I cannot let him move freely about this castle or this glen and I cannot entrust him with knowledge of our plans to defend ourselves. He is to stay locked up, under guard.” He tipped Rowan’s chin up so she had to meet his steely gaze. “Do you understand?”

She forced herself to remain calm and was gratified that even the quiet rattling of the door ceased. “He can help us, Uncle.”

“That may be true, but I canna risk that he may not be the man you believe him to be. Not right now.” He slumped back into his chair. “Let us begin with the blessing. I suspect that the protections my Elspet put in place collapsed when the Guardianship shifted to
Rowan. We must get that protection back as soon as may be done. I want it in place by sundown.”

Jeanette agreed.

“I will do my best,” Rowan said. Surely she could do at least that.

“We should keep the news to ourselves for a little while, until you have had a chance to learn a bit about being the Guardian and how to use the Targe. Once you can protect the castle and the clan, then we will reveal this strange twist of fate that has befallen us.”

“I fear the news will spread before then,” Rowan said. “Myles, Nicholas’s guard, and Helen both witnessed what happened. You ken how news spreads like fleas through the clan.”

Kenneth sighed.

“And Nicholas? What will be his fate?” she asked.

“I do not ken,” Kenneth said, but did not look her in the eyes. “We will take it one day at a time and see what unfolds.”

“You promised you will not harm him.”

“I did. And for now, that is true, but in the end…”

“Nay, Uncle. I am the Guardian. It is my place to protect the people of the clan. He will not be harmed.”

“He is not clan,” Kenneth said, glowering at her, but she did not back down. In this she would not back down.

“You granted him hospitality. He has proven himself true to us. He went against his compatriot to keep me safe. He risked his own safety to help me calm my gift, a task that protected the entire clan. He would gladly help us defend ourselves against Archie if you would but accept that help. He will not be harmed.”

“Yet he is here to steal the Highland Targe. He is an agent of Longshanks. He is English. I am chief of this clan and I will not allow the man free range of this castle or this land! He will remain under guard!” Kenneth roared, surging to his feet, but Rowan did not flinch. “On that point I will not bend.”

She met his glare and did not blink. “Very well, but he will stay in the tower. Auntie’s old chamber will suit with some cleaning up. A guard can keep watch there, and follow the man around when he leaves the chamber.”

“He shall not leave the chamber.” Kenneth’s fists were on his hips, ire snapping in his eyes.

“He will if I need him to.” Rowan mirrored his stance, fists on her hips, her chin raised. She hid the surprise at her own actions. Never before would she have gainsaid her uncle in anything, but now… now it was as much
her
responsibility to protect the clan as his and she would not shrink from her duty.

“Da, it is reasonable,” Jeanette said, laying one hand upon his arm and the other upon Rowan’s. “ ’Tis sure I am that Duncan and Uilliam will also keep watch over him if he is about the castle.”

Kenneth crossed his arms over his wide chest and glared at his daughter and niece. Finally he nodded, one quick jerk of his head.

I
T WAS ALL
Nicholas could do not to call a halt to the tedious afternoon. Rowan was exhausted, hungry, and Jeanette made her repeat the same nonsense words and swishy symbols in the air over and over and over again. He was exhausted just watching them.

“She needs a rest,” he finally said, pushing off the wall where he leaned next to the window. “She almost had it an hour ago but now she is making more and more mistakes.”

“I am doing my best, but he is right,” Rowan said, letting her hands fall limply to her sides. “I cannot even think clearly at this point. There is no way I can make the blessing before sunset.”

Jeanette stared at her cousin, her face emotionless. “Perhaps we should take a break for a little while. I would like to check and see how Mum fares. You could sleep a little.”

“You should get some sleep, too.”

“I will sleep when I have to.” But the slow blink of her eyes betrayed her fatigue.

“Soon, then,” Rowan said. “I do not wish to upset Auntie or Scotia so I will stay here, but please tell your mum I love her. Do not tell her that I cannot do her duties yet. I would not have her sap her strength with worry.”

Jeanette nodded and went to the door. Her hand on the latch, she stopped and looked back at Rowan. “You must find a way to call upon your gift when you need it, Rowan, not just when you are angry or afraid. Until you can do that we are unprotected. It is your duty now.”

“I ken that.”

Nicholas was surprised to see anger wash across Jeanette’s fair features as she left the chamber.

Rowan knuckled her gritty eyes and stared at her bed.

“I do not think I can sleep.” She gave him a tired smile.

“At least sit,” he said, leading her to her bed and gently pushing her down. He sat next to her and indulged himself by lifting her hand and massaging it.

“Mmmm. That is heavenly,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“You will get this, love. You just need time.”

“Which is the one thing we do not have.”

He kissed the crown of her head and laid his cheek against it, wondering how he could help her. He felt the telltale dampness of tears on his shoulder as she swiped her hand across her eyes.

He raised her chin with a finger, pulling her back far enough to place a gentle kiss upon her lips. “We will figure this out together, you, me, and Jeanette.” Her lips were so close to his, he could feel the warmth of her breath there, like the lightest of kisses. “You are not alone in this.” A lone tear escaped over her pale cheek but he brushed it away with his thumb. “We will find a way, together, for you to wield your gift without hurting anyone, including yourself… unless you mean to hurt someone.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, hoping for a smile. “I think you might not mind hurting Archie.”

Her face lit up at that thought. “Nay, I would not mind that at all.”

“Are you sure you cannot rest?”

“I am so tired, but inside… I cannot rest. I must master the blessing.”

“Perhaps..,” he said, thinking back to how he had learned most new skills in his life. “Perhaps you need to start further back.”

“Further back?”

“Aye.” He turned on the bed to face her. “When I was first learning to wield a sword I was not handed a claymore and told to kill someone with it. I watched my kinsmen sparring. I was given a small wooden sword to practice with, one that fit my hands and whose weight I could manage. I got the feel for that training sword before I ever was allowed to touch a claymore. It is like Jeanette is handing you a claymore when you need to practice with a wee wooden sword.”

“But how?” she asked.

“Have you ever just looked at the stone? Got the feel of it in your hand before you tried to force anything to happen?”

“Nay.”

He nodded toward the ermine sack where it sat on the stool next to her. “ ’Tis a first step, like a bairn learning to walk.”

She grabbed the sack and let it settle in her lap as she pulled it open until it lay almost flat, revealing not only the stone he’d seen when it had fallen at his feet on the ben, but odd decorations stained on the leather interior of the sack. She lifted the stone and studied it carefully, turning it over in her hand, running her fingers over it.

“What are those symbols?” he asked, tracing a snaking line with his finger.

She let the stone rest in her palm as she looked at the symbol he traced. “I do not ken why they are there, but Jeanette tells me that this one”—she pointed at one of the symbols on the leather, and again to the same incised symbol on the stone—“is a mirror but she does not ken what it means. This one”—she pointed to another symbol about a third of the way around the painted part of the sack—“is a broken arrow, but again, what it means has been lost to time. And this one”—she pointed to the third one, closest to her, the one he had run his finger over; it was a simple drawing of three stacked wavy lines contained within an upside-down V—“no one kens.”

Nicholas leaned close to get a better look at both the paintings on the sack and the slightly flattened, round stone she cupped in her hand. The same symbols were in the same positions on the stone. “It looks like water, or wind,” he said. “That”—he ran his finger over the
upside-down V on the stone—“makes me think of the bens, as if the lines are water flowing under the mountains.”

“Aye,” she whispered. “Wind whips up from nothing when I get afraid.” She ran a finger over the rippled lines on the stone, then over the same symbol on the sack, back and forth, thinking hard until she squared her shoulders and reached out for his hand, gripping it hard. “This is the symbol of my gift. I am sure of it. But, if the lines are for wind, why are they below the ben? And if the lines are water, why is it always wind that comes to me with my gift? Somehow my gift draws from the wind, the water, the earth beneath our feet. Wait.” She thought hard about exactly what she felt when her gift came upon her. “My gift, it pours into me from below, always starting at my feet, then rising up through me. But what does it mean that these symbols are on the stone, and on the sack?”