J. Lee Coulter (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

Jamie cleared his throat loudly to gain Conan’s attention after standing in his study for several moments unnoticed. The laird was occupied with a missive he had started right after breaking his fast. He glanced up in irritation at the interruption to find his captain anxious to be on his way.

“What is it, Jamie?” He set the quill down giving him his full attention.

“M’laird, there be a man who is looking for work in the stables.”

Arching his brow in question, Conan replied, “I trust your
judgment in these matters…why do ye bring this ta me?”

“Aye, and normally I would nae bother ye but…he is nae one of our own. He be a stranger here. I thought considering the situation with m’lady Kyla that ye may wish ta judge for yourself whether ta allow it.
”

Conan ran his fingers through his hair as he considered Jamie’s words. There had been no outcry from the Ramsey stronghold since he had wed her more than two moons past and Iona had not spoken of any threats issued his way. Perhaps he had given up.
Nae bloody likely! I would search the ends of the earth ta retrieve Kyla! I can expect nae less from Clyde.

Making his decision, Conan growled, “Put him ta work…but have him watched closely. Tis time ta remove
this threat over our lives. If he be Ramsey’s man then so be it! We will be ready for him.”

“Aye m’laird…a wise decision. Keep your enemies closer…”

Conan grinned!

“Send me two messengers and Nab afore ye give our guest the news.” He sat back down and resumed where he had left off as
Jamie departed. Within the hour two of his men rode off swiftly in different directions carrying the missives he had been writing.

He found her floating on the battlements of the Ramsey stronghold gazing off longingly at the distance. She turned as he approached, gasping in awe, before dropping to her knees before Him.

Iona had no need to be told who He was. She knew the Lord as well as her own mind. A bright white aura encompassed Him announcing His purity to one and all. She trembled as he reached out aiding her to stand.

“You have been busy, Iona.
”

“Aye, m
e Lord. It was necessary.”

“Perhaps. Do you believe that I would not protect my children?”

She gave him a look of consternation. How should she answer that knowing that He allowed her murder?

“Ye did nae protect me.”

“Ah…but I did. I saved you from countless tortures of the body and soul that would have been inflicted on you if I had intervened. You would have been driven to the point where even I would not have been able to save you…your soul…which is more precious to me than this short time on Earth. All must walk the path set before them. Making the right choices is the key to their salvation.”

Tears brimmed as mental pictures flashed through her mind of the life He saved her from.
Iona’s lip trembled when she next spoke.

“Forgive me. I did nae mean ta question your
judgment.” In the next instant she realized why He was there. “Ye have come for me?”

He nodded. “It is time to come home.”

“I can nae…nae yet! Clyde has nae suffered enough for his depravity! And Kyla is nae yet safe!”

His eyes softened with love for her. “I will see to her safety. You must trust me. As for Clyde…I have chosen Conan to mete out his punishment
. It is time for you to rest. You have done all that you can.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she let go of her grief…her hate. He was right. There was nothing more that she could do to her husband. He reached out to her but she swiftly moved backward with a pleading look.

“May I have one more day me Lord? To say me good-byes?”

He searched her heart. It would do no harm to allow her this wish. Acquiescing, He smiled
gently into her eyes. “I will see you tomorrow. Use your time well daughter.” And He was gone.

Emptiness struck Iona like a blow the moment He was
away. She had forgotten what it felt like to be truly loved. A deep sadness filled her soul as she realized she would never see Kyla again. A sob escaped her lips.

I can nae waste me last day here mourning what can nae be! I must warn Conan of Clyde’s plan and…see Kyla one last time. But first I am going ta put the fear of God in that poor excuse of a man!
Drying her tears, she set off in search of her husband.

Laird Ramsey had set out early that morn for McEwen Castle. He wanted to be present when his daughter was retrieved for him. He had already been denied his pleasure for too long. Clyde scowled to himself at Iona’s empty threats. She could do naught to him! She was nothing more than a wisp of smoke drifting in the breeze. At first he had feared her words…until he spoke with a seer. The hag had reassured him that only a flesh and blood person would do him any harm. Confident that he was safe, he made the journey with a dozen of his men behind him. It was toward gloaming when Donald rode up alongside of him.

“M’laird, do we stop for the eve? The men are tired and grow hungry. Our mounts could use a rest as well.”

Giving his lieutenant an impatient glance, he snarled, “We do nae yet have me daughter…or me steed! We will stop for a short while ta see ta our needs…not any longer than that!” He pointed to a clearing, steering his horse in that direction. Donald did not argue as he directed the men to follow. Clearly, the laird was still angry over the loss of his mount. If it was mentioned to him he was prepared to lay the blame at Seamus’ feet…not his own.

Iona had been quietly observing the procession. She felt an overpowering need to intervene but kept a tight rein on it. Warning Conan was more important than her revenge.

She arrived at the keep in an instant. Forgetting her promise in her sense of urgency, she burst into his bedchamber, causing the oak door to slam against the wall with a loud crack. He leapt from the bed naked and aroused as he snatched up his sword. Kyla cried out, quickly covering her nakedness, thinking that an intruder was approaching. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized who stood in the doorway.

“Maither?”

Conan glanced at his bride as his stance relaxed somewhat.
So I was right! Iona is her true maither.
He turned his aqua gaze to her mother.

“Ye are forbidden in these chambers wraith! Ye had best have a good reason for this trespass!”

She did not respond right away as she drank in the sight of her daughter. She desired to wrap her arms about her but knew it would not be welcomed. Her touch was cold in the mortal world. Kyla’s words brought her out of her reverie.

“Ye are the spirit that haunts here? But Faither said ye had run off.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Iona ached for her as she confirmed her words with a nod. Turning to Conan, she spoke.

“Clyde is on his way here with a dozen men. Ye must hide Kyla away!”

“How far is he?” he asked as he dressed swiftly.

“Three…mayhap four hours
. Nae farther.”

Conan peered at his wife as he thought of the possibilities. Shaking his head, he made his decision.

“What say ye, mo cridhe? Do we face him united…or cower in a hidden passage only ta live in constant fear of his return?”

Kyla turned her eyes to him for a moment before returning her gaze to Iona.

“I tire of living in a prison. If it is the only way ta be free then I say let us face him. Tis time!”

Chapter Twelve

Clyde smiled to himself in pleasure as he and his men crept down the dark corridor. He had been quite pleased with the turn of events this eve.

Seamus had met them at the gate as planned only to inform them that Conan and most of his guard had left a short time before to capture some
rievers that absconded with his cattle. There were very nearly no guards at all to protect the keep.

Leading them to the laird’s chamber, Seamus
marveled over their good fortune. They had met only a few guards and they were easily dispatched as they placed them all in one chamber to be guarded by Clyde’s own men. By the time they reached the bedchamber there was only Laird Ramsey, Seamus and Donald left to enter.

The huge oak door creaked noisily as it was slowly pushed open. The room was dark
, lit only by the hearth and a brace of candles atop a table in the far corner. Clyde took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the change in lighting.

Peering about, he located his prize asleep in the bed. He began to pant in anticipation, his palms sweaty, as he waved his men out of the chamber. Clyde wanted no witnesses to what he was about to do.

Once he was alone he crept to the side of the four poster bed to discover Kyla covered from head to toe with the blankets. Her father’s hands trembled in anticipation as he reached for the blankets and gave them a sound jerk removing them in one motion.

Iona shot straight up into his face as she shrieked in her unearthly voice. Clyde screamed in terror
stumbling back against the wall. Seamus and Donald rushed in only to halt suddenly at the sight, making the sign of the cross on their chests.

Rising slowly from the bed, Iona placed her cold hand around Clyde’s throat.

“Ye will leave me daughter be Clyde Ramsey!”

He attempted to shake off her grip to no avail. His eyes hardened as he regained his senses.

“Ye can do naught ta stop me! I will do as I wish. Now tell me where she be.”

A deep voice came from a darkened corner.

“Mayhap Iona can do naught…but
I
can! Seize them!”

Out of the shadows emerged Conan’s personal guard who quickly disarmed and bound them. “Bring them ta the hall. We shall speak there.”

It was not long before Clyde and all of his men stood before the dais in the great hall. With Kyla at his side, Conan pondered what to do with them now that he had them as he sipped his ale.

The king would probably frown on me if I simply executed them…although I have every right ta do so. There is Kyla ta consider as well. I doubt she would think very highly of the deed…or me, if I carry it out. I could place him in the dungeon and let Iona torture him forever.
A wide grin crossed his face at the thought.

Nay Conan. M
e work is done here and the good Lord is calling me home. I came ta say me good-byes this eve.

A wave of grief passed through him as he felt her pain. He focused his attention
on her for a few moments before turning to his wife.

“What say ye, mo cridhe?” he asked softly. “Should I spare him? Release him? What be your wish?”

Kyla’s heart swelled as he asked her for her opinion on the matter.
Me wishes matter ta him! He must care for me somewhat.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke firmly.

“Although I abhor bloodshed…what is ta stop him from trying this again? I want peace for us…and our bairn.”

Conan stopped breathing as her words reached his ears!
Did she say “bairn”?
His eyes darkened as he turned to her. “Ye are certain, mo gradh?”

She beamed at him as she nodded. “Aye mo cridhe, I am positive.”

Conan caressed her velvety cheek as he tenderly kissed her.

“Well this calls for a celebration! Release me so I may congratulate ye properly!
” Clyde bellowed as a plan formed in his mind.

“Tis your choice, wife. What say ye?”

Peering at her father attempting to discern his intentions she made up her mind. She did not trust him but she could see no other options…they must release him.

“If we release ye, do ye promise ta leave us be? Ye will be banished from McEwen land forever. There will be nae skulking about!”

With an air of resignation and down-cast eyes he nodded agreement.

Conan waved to one of his men to release the prisoners.

“Thank ye Laird McEwen. I will nae forget this.”

“Ye can thank your daughter…I actually prefer ta skewer ye and be done with it.”

Clyde glared at the young laird for an instant before quickly masking his face. It would not do for his feelings to be revealed.

“Will ye nae spare me one toast ta me grandchild?”

Conan’s eyes narrowed on his father-by-law. “I do nae drink with the likes of ye! Be gone…afore I change me mind over your fate!”

Clyde was
surprised by his vehemence. Could he possibly know what he had planned for his daughter? He shook his head in denial. It was not possible. Kyla was not even aware.

“Verra well then.” He arched a bushy brow at his daughter. “Since this be the last time we speak lass…may I have a farewell hug?” Seeing her hesitation he added, “There surely can be nae harm in it surrounded by all these guards and under the watchful eye of your husband.”

Faither is right. Conan will nae allow him ta harm me.
She rose from her seat and approached her father on shaky legs. As she was encompassed in his arms she heard him whisper in her ear, “Ye have betrayed me daughter. If I can nae have ye then nae one will!”

Kyla felt an instant burning pain in her side as Clyde whipped out a hidden
skean dubh, thrusting it into her. Her legs buckled as her world turned black. Clyde threw her body to the floor in triumph, snatching a sword from a nearby guard as he spun around to face Conan.

The McEwen’s heart exploded in pain as he saw the red stain spread down Kyla’s side. He could not breath as the thought of her loss engulfed him.
All thought left him.

She is nae dead, Conan! But ye will be if ye do nae get a grip on your senses!
Awake and face your challenger!

He blinked and shook his head, ducking just in time to avoid decapitation by Clyde’s sword. Survival instincts and years of training took over as he drew his
own weapon. A roar of rage escaped his lips as he tore into the old laird, landing blow after blow relentlessly. Ramsey soon tired from the assault. Peering into Conan’s soulless eyes…he saw his own death as the killing blow was struck.

Conan was not satisfied with the one blow! In his mindless rage, he hacked away at Clyde’s body until it was unrecognizable to even be human! No one dared stop him for fear that he would turn the blade on them.

Conan!
Iona shrieked at him to get his attention.
Kyla needs ye…your bairn needs ye! Clyde is dead! Tis time ta see ta the living!

Tears streamed down his face as he dropped the sword and hurried to his wife’s side.
She moaned as he ever so gently picked her up, transporting her to their chambers as orders were given.

The healer worked quickly and soon she was stitched and bandaged in her bed. Conan turned to Aggie and asked the dreaded question.

“Will she live?”

“Barring any fever…aye. The blade struck a rib or else she would already be dead. The wound was nae deep
, m’laird. Rest assured.”

He sank into a nearby chair in relief.

“Ye must love her a great deal m’laird.”

His head shot up at her words. He had not even realized it until that moment but…yes, he loved her dearly.

“Aye. More than even I kenned. Thank ye, Aggie. Is there anything more ta do?”

“Just stay with her and watch for signs of fever.” The old healer turned back toward him just before leaving the chamber. “If she wakes…I mean ‘when’…make her drink the potion I left on the table. It will ease the pain.”

He nodded as she left.

The fever set in by morning.

Alexander and his entourage arrived at McEwen Keep to find it in a state of mourning. This puzzled him since the missive he had received from Conan was an invite to spend the Yuletide with his sister and his new bride.

Stomping the snow from his boots inside the great hall, he glanced about at the morose faces of his clansmen. A feeling of dread began to fill him as he noted the absence of a greeting from his brother. Was he dead?

“Where is me brother?” he asked a passing maid.

“H-he is in his chambers, Sir Alex…tending his sick wife.”

“She is ill?”

“Aye…from the knife wound. Aggie does
nae believe she will last the day.”

Alarmed, Alexander barked out some orders to his squire as he hurried to the bedchamber.
As he entered, Alex noted his bedraggled brother sitting in a chair next to the bed with his head resting on it next to his wife.

He went straight to her side and began examining her.
This be nae ordinary fever! The blade must have had poison upon it!
His squire rushed in with his satchel just then and he set about retrieving vials of different exotic powders, placing them on the table.

“Boil some water Thomas and be quick about it! We do nae have much time!”

Conan stirred .

“Alex?”

“Aye.”

“This is nae a good time, brother. Me wife is…dying.” He choked on a sob.

Alex’s eyes darted to him for an instant. He had never seen him in such a state before. Refocusing on his task, he replied, “Then tis the perfect time for me presence! I have just recently returned from the Holy land where they taught me much about poisons and healing.”

“Poisons! What are ye speaking about? Kyla was stabbed…nae poisoned!”

“I have seen this before. There must have been poison on the blade. Ahh…tis ready! Think ye can get her to drink this potion? She needs as much as ye can get in her.”

Nodding, he took the cup from his brother
and gently shook his bride. She moaned.

“Kyla, ye must wake and drink this.” She did not respond. Knowing that time was not on his side, Conan took a large amount of the potion into his mouth then placed his lips on hers. Instinct opened her mouth to his and he released the liquid a wee bit at a time.

Alex observed her swallowing as he tended her wound with a fresh poultice, grunting his approval. She was drinking it.

Conan had managed to get almost every drop in her mouth in this manner.

“Ye have done well, brother. Now we wait. Ye should get some rest…and food! When did ye last eat?”

He concentrated on his task of wiping her brow with a cool cloth as he thought over the question. “Ye would have ta ask Nab…I do nae ken. Days?”

Shaking his head, he replied, “Go. I will sit with her.”

“Nay!” he bellowed. “I will nae leave her!”

Alexander raised a surprised brow. Never had Conan been so attached to anyone…or anything. Seeing the terror in his eyes, Alex acquiesced to his wishes.

“I will have food brought here. At least lie down
in the bed. Your body heat will help break the fever.”

Conan was too exhausted to argue. He stripped down, crawled beneath the covers and carefully wrapped his arms about Kyla. He was asleep in seconds.