Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) (12 page)

“And what can I do for you?”

“It’s not that. It’s I who can be of service.”

“Go on.”

“I had a servant traveling with me. He’s gone. Tonight. Taken one of my horses, the scurrilous villain. I believe he’s gone back south to find that Maxwell rogue. I believe he means to lead him back here to you.”

Alexander looked over at Kenna, who was crouched over a sick woman. He needed to take her out of this place. He looked back at the priest.

“I still have one horse,” the priest continued. “I want you to have it. Take the woman and get clear of here. Go to Oban and farther if you need to, but get away from us. And go tonight.”

“I can buy the horse from you,” Alexander told him.

“Whatever suits you, Highlander.”

Alexander nodded. “You have been of service. But what of you? Why stay?”

“As I said, this is my flock now. They need me. If Maxwell comes and you’re gone, he may leave us alone.” The priest shrugged again and looked away. “If not, we’re in God’s hands.”

Donald Maxwell sliced a chunk of meat from the mutton roasting over the fire pit and tore at it with his teeth. The cotter’s fat wife huddled in a dark corner with her two terrified children.

They had reason to be afraid. Their stupid oaf of a father lay dead on the dung pile by the sheepcote. Why Highlanders always believe they must fight would always be a mystery, he thought. Not that it would have made a difference.

“Ale, woman. And be quick about it.”

The two English riders stood eying the mutton hungrily, but Maxwell was not about to offer them any. His own men nearly filled the cottage, sitting and standing around in the flickering shadows cast by the fire.

“Go back to Sir Ralph and tell him this: the noose is tightening.”

He paused as the cotter’s wife handed him a horn cup full of ale. Taking hold of her wrist, he dragged her into his lap, eliciting a burst of laughter from his men as she struggled for a moment and then stopped. Maxwell’s knife rested against her throat. He looked up at the messengers.

“Tell him that the MacKay woman and the Macpherson have taken to the hills, but they’re exactly where we want them. My men are on their trail, beating the bushes and driving them to me here, where I wait, in hospitable Oban.”

I do love nothing in the world so well as you—is not that strange?

He’d ignored completely her demand for more time . . . simply scooped her up in front of him and then kicked his heels into the sides of the gray steed. In moments, the loch and the camp and the fleeing refugees were far behind them.

Several broken bones, some horrific burns, many open wounds, a woman nearing childbirth, and two children hot with fever. Jock’s sister and his cousin. Kenna had tended to them and used no magic. Not intentionally. She didn’t take hold of the stone tablet in the pouch even once, but there were whispers by some of the wounded that her touch alone felt warm or lessened the pain.

She didn’t understand it, but she was too tired to think it through. She’d been led from one person to the next for hours. She examined them and decided what was wrong. If there wasn’t enough time to do it herself, she passed on the same instructions she’d been taught by the nuns.

There were some she hadn’t been given time to look after at all. And there was no reasoning with Alexander. He wouldn’t listen. He simply said that she was no good to anyone if she was a hostage or dead. That was what would happen if they were still here when Maxwell’s men caught up with them.

He would allow no discussion, hinting that he’d drag her away tied and gagged, if need be. After the last few days, Kenna knew he’d go through with the threat. And she knew she was too tired to fight him.

Kenna left instructions. Many helpers stepped forward. She hoped it was enough.

Now, riding through the rolling countryside, she felt the complete weight of exhaustion descend on her. Wrapped in Alexander’s protective arms and lulled by his warmth, Kenna dozed, hovering in that shadowy limbo between consciousness and sleep.

She dreamed of blood and severed limbs and her frustrating inability to sew the wounds quickly enough. Then as a turn or a bump would lift her into wakefulness, Kenna’s thoughts would hearken back to the memory of Alexander’s every touch. Of the two of them locked in a sensual rhythm against the wall. Of her complete surrender to him. Of the excruciating pleasure building within her before that final blaze of glorious release. She’d never thought such a thing possible. Now
tha
t
,
she thought with a smile, was real magic.

She didn’t want to go back to sleep. She wanted to experience again and again in her mind what had happened between them. But the rocking rhythm of the horse lulled her.

A stirring deep in her belly made Kenna open her eyes. They were riding through a wooded glen and then out into the predawn light of rolling moorland. Patches of purple flowers covered the hillsides.

Alexander’s hand was on her breast.

Kenna leaned back against his chest, looking up at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying myself and answering your demands.”

“Demands?” She removed his hand. “While I sleep? We’ve exchanged no words since we left the camp.”

“Your body spoke for you,” he whispered in her ear. “Nestling into my chest, running your hands along my thighs, making small noises in the back of your throat. I’m a man. There’s only so much I can take.”

“You’re talking nonsense.” Kenna tried to shift her body, but she had nowhere to go.

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m not doing anything. This is all your imagination.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her firmly back against him. She could feel his arousal against the small of her back. A delicious heat rushed through her body, surprising her.

“I know you feel that, and you’re responsible,” he said flatly. “So sit still or your first time will be up against a tree or on the hard ground with a heather branch stabbing in your ear and rocks jabbing you in the—”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t tempt me, wife.”

The words didn’t frighten her. After last night, she was looking forward to their first real night of lovemaking, in spite of the vaguely alarming hints that the MacKay women had whispered in her ear about what happened in the marriage bed. She was feeling the same reckless impulse that she felt when faced with any adventure. Annulment or no annulment, she was ready for more. But they were on strange land. She would be happier in a secure place for that special moment, with at least a roof over their heads.

Her gaze drifted up to her husband’s face again. The angry words they’d exchanged less than a week ago sounded so hollow now. If they stayed together and lived as man and wife, they’d have many arguments, to be sure. He was as pigheaded as she was.

One thing, more than any other, made her uneasy: the broken tablet, her inheritance from her mother.

Descending into a hollow in the moor, they were enclosed by a pocket of early morning mist. Kenna could see only a few paces in front of them, and it occurred to her that this was life. We only see a few paces ahead, if that. There was no telling what would come of her or Alexander or the stone tablet, and the gift and the curse that accompanied it.

“About the questions that you were asking me before we were taken to the camp.”

He looked into her face. “You’re a talented healer. I saw what you did for those people. I was . . . I am very proud of you. The nuns trained you well.”

She shook her head. “But what I did for you . . . what happened in the fishing hut and later in the cave . . . I needed more than what I was taught.”

She paused, looked down at her lap, trying to decide how much she should tell him now. They were on the road. He had enough on his mind to get them to reach safety.

“Will you trust me?” she asked. “Will you wait until I understand better myself what happened there, before I tell you everything?”

“You mean you don’t understand it yourself?”

“I don’t understand
all
of it.” It was the truth. “Will you give me time? Trust me for now?”

“You saved my life,” he reminded her. “Twice. I can wait.”

That was all he said, and Kenna felt a weight lift off her for now.

They continued to ride in and out of patches of mist, past unearthly rock formations, and over heather- and gorse-covered hills. As the land began to rise steadily, they entered more woods.

Kenna looked around her in awe. The branches of ancient oak trees entwined into a canopy above them. As they rode through a clearing, she realized that the first rays of the sun were casting shadows in front of them.

“We’re riding west,” she said. “We’re not going north. Aren’t we going to Oban?”

“There’s a trap set for us there.”

“A trap? How do you know?”

“That priest. What kind of man doesn’t give last rites to the dead until it’s convenient for him? By ’sblood, I’ve seen many a priest with as fine a horse as this, but never one so willing to part with him. And the bloody weasel never even bickered on the price. Nay, there’s a trap set, no doubting it.”

“He never went near the sick or injured while we were there,” Kenna told him. “I didn’t even know there was a priest with them until he came to see you.”

“Also, he’s a Lowlander.”

“And you think he’s working with Maxwell.”

“He said a half dozen times before we left that the only safe place for us is Oban.”

The fog in her head cleared. After everything they’d been through, to trust any stranger was foolish. She was relieved Alexander had been aware of it.

As they rode on, they left the forest behind, and Kenna looked around at the unfamiliar terrain. Behind them lay the mercenaries pursuing them. Ahead of them and to the south was the coastline that Jock warned was crawling with English raiders. To the north lay Oban and a possible trap. They were being driven into the nets of their enemy.

“Where are we going? Where can we hide?”

Alexander didn’t answer.

“Tell me.”

“Where those bastards will
not
catch us.”

The sun was still low in the sky behind them when he reined in and dismounted. She could see nothing but a series of rolling hills. Alexander reached up to help her down.

Kenna hoped their destination was near. The shoes given to her by one of the women at the camp were too small and hurt her feet. She didn’t want to walk far. She slid off the back of the horse.

Alexander stripped the gear from the mount and slapped the animal on the flank. The horse ran off, disappearing along the pathway leading north. She pulled her hair back and tied it into a knot. Shaking out her dress as if it weren’t torn in a dozen places and stained from waist to hem, she faced her husband.

“Where do we go from here?”

He took her hand and smiled, pulling her uphill through thick shrubs that caught and pulled at her skirts.

“Any time now,” she told him. “Please feel free to tell me where we’re going.”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Thank you. Perhaps I’ll write a poem about that. I’ll call it ‘Soon Enough.’”

She followed him, weaving through outcroppings of square black rock and thorny shrubs. No physical effort or discomfort, however, could erase the smile she felt had been branded on her heart. Looking at him ahead of her, Kenna could not help but admire the powerful width of his shoulders and the possessive hold he kept on her hand.

As if reading her thoughts, he glanced back. “I never imagined you would be such a woman as this.”

“Before I commit to this conversation, I want to know if you are insulting me or complimenting me.”

“Complimenting, of course.”

“Oh, of course. Well, you must know I’m not accustomed to hearing compliments from you. But go on—say nice things about me.”

His laughter made Kenna’s insides go warm.

“To begin, I don’t know many women who would make this journey without even a wee complaint.”

“It’s a relief that you are so aged that you don’t recall all the complaining I did the first night you kidnapped us.”

He waved that off. “Nay, I heard nothing unreasonable. And you’re as brave as you are bonny.”

“Oh, aye, I’m feeling like a rare beauty right now. But I will accept your assertion that I’m brave.”

“Thank you, wife.”

“Still, I think you’re a bit touched in the head. What were you doing picking a fight with those men outside the kirk? The day before, if you recall, you were nearly gutted like a pig.”

“I had no choice, lass. They started it,” Alexander corrected it. “But back to you. Since our marriage, I’ve seen that your intelligence—”

“Stop right there,” she ordered. “This is already sounding like an insult.”

“Nay! How is that?”

“I’m not brave and intelligent as a reaction to you. I am the same woman that I was long before I met you.”

“Are you trying to say you had a life before meeting me?”

“Aye, and I’ll have a life after, too, once I find a cliff high enough to push you over.”

“How about this one? High enough?”

Kenna gasped as they suddenly broke through the line of shrubs and came to a halt at the edge of a cliff. Jagged pillars of black rock dropped away below and the gray-green sea boiled at the bottom.

She looked up and her breath caught in her chest. The sea and a long stretch of land across a broad strait spread out before them. Fishing boats, looking tiny in the distance, bobbed among the whitecaps. Almost directly across the firth, a ship lay at anchor.

“What is this? Where are we?”

“I told you—we’ve arrived.”

“Arrived where? Is that one of your ships in the distance?”

“Aye. The one MacDougall stole from us. The trade for Emily must have worked. I was hoping it would be here, though I feared we might be early.”

“Will they come for us?”

“Aye, lass. But judging from the wind and the tide, it’ll take them most of the day to get here. But they will.”

Kenna looked around her. There were no buildings, nowhere for them to take shelter. The two of them seemed insignificant against the cliffs. “But we’re only a speck on top of this cliff. How will they even know that we’re here?”

“You’re right.” Alexander’s face clouded over. “Our best course of action would be to swim out to them.”

“That ship is too far from here! We’ll drown long before we reach them.”

“We’ll not drown.” He stretched out a hand to her. “Come on; let’s get started.”

She backed away and planted her feet. “You’re not doing that to me again. We’re not jumping. Did you see those rocks down there? We’ll never reach the water.”

“Suit yourself, lass. But I’m reconsidering what I said about you being brave and uncomplaining.” With a shrug, Alexander stepped to the ledge and jumped.

Kenna screamed and rushed to the edge. Dropping to her hands and knees, she peered wildly over the rocks. There, perched on a narrow ledge about twice his height from the top of the cliff, Alexander stood looking up at her.

“Jump,” he said.

Kenna eyed the space where she needed to land and, without a moment’s hesitation, dropped into his waiting arms.

“Very well, Kenna MacKay. I’m convinced. You
are
brave.”

“But we can forget about the ‘intelligent’ comments. I don’t believe I just did that.”

Keeping a firm hold on her hand, Alexander led Kenna a short distance along the ledge, then dropped to his hands and knees and crawled through a low opening in the face of the cliff. Kenna followed him into the half-darkness of a cave. The damp, cool smell of earth filled her senses.

As she stood up, Alexander pulled a flint from his sporran and proceeded to light a torch that was leaning against the wall of the cave. The narrow space lit up. As Kenna’s eyes adjusted, she saw that the cave sloped downward for a few paces beyond where Alexander was standing and then angled off.

“Where are we?”

“Sailor’s call it Hermit’s Rock. We’re south of Oban.”

He took a pile of dry wood from an alcove and went to the cave mouth. In a few moments, he’d started a fire.

“A signal?” she asked as he stood back. Smoke from the blaze billowed out.

He nodded.

“Won’t that give our whereabouts away to Maxwell and his men?”

“The signal is only visible from the water. By now, either James or Diarmad is in command of that ship. They’ll see it and come for us.”