Highland Portrait (35 page)

“Merry, how good to see you again!  It has been too long, my dear friend, much too long. Stella, we missed you, dear.  I see you have met my good friend Merry.”  Elinor and Merry exchanged hugs and Elinor called a servant to bring refreshments.  Merry looked at Stella and smiled and held her hand.

“Elinor, Stella is my daughter,” said Merry.  Elinor halted and looked at Merry and then at Stella, noting that yes, there was a startling resemblance.

“Your daughter?”  she had a confused look on her face. “but I thought your daughter died years ago, Merry.”

“I believe I can clear this up,” said Albert.  It had been painful to live the untangling of Stella and Merry’s relationship, but in the third retelling, minus the time traveling, Albert felt the weight of the offense he had given his wife and child lift as he looked at their forgiving faces.  Elinor listened intently, her brow furrowing.

“Albert, you are the child’s father?  But I thought Merry’s child was a Stewart baby?”  Elinor looked at Merry, but her look of love and adoration for Albert made Elinor realize that Merry loved Albert without condition.  Albert dropped his head scowling.

“Stella was never a Stewart baby…”

“Donald Stewart and I never consummated our marriage.” Merry explained. “On our wedding night when I admitted to him that I was no maid, he refused to touch me.  It wasn’t long after that he disappeared.  My parents thought that the babe I carried belonged to Donald and I did not set them right for fear of reprisals, but let them believe it, so Stella was always thought to be a Stewart.”  Albert was still frowning, looking at the floral design in the rug, running the toe of his foot over the pattern and trying to keep from speaking his mind on Donald Stewart.

“Then Stella is the baby Ailean?”  Elinor’s eyes widened at the import of what she was hearing

“Aye, it is she.” Merry turned to Stella who smiled at Elinor.

“It has been a very revealing trip for me Elinor.  I suppose anytime one ‘comes home’ they are in for a bit of a shock.”

Elinor looked at Merry.  “Does she know?”  Merry shook her head and looked at Albert.

“I did not like the fact that she was my child and being paraded as a Stewart so I did not tell her.” said Albert defiantly.

“Daddy!  What are you not telling me now?”   Stella sat up straighter steeling herself for more blockaded information.  “Mama?” she pleaded.  Merry looked at Albert and Albert nodded reluctantly.

“Ye were betrothed to Robbie when ye were children.  When ye left I told the MacDougalls’s that ye had died and the betrothal was no longer valid,” said Merry with a faraway look in her eyes.

Stella’s visit had been fraught with surprises and life changing information and events but this was perhaps the most stunning.  This was the reason that she had felt such a strong pull toward Robbie, why their relationship had been so strong from the very beginning.  The magic that drew them together started when they were children, promised to one another long ago.  Her heart began to beat wildly and she felt a stirring that swamped her and tears flowed freely once again.

“Daddy is this why you brought me back now?” she asked sniffing back tears.

“No, Stella, I didn’t bring you back because of Robbie, although I thought that your relationship would happen once you met.  I brought you back because of your mother.  Robbie is just incidental.”  Albert still scowled, but there was humor in his eyes. “I did not like you being named a Stewart and it galled me to think that other’s thought you a Stewart.  I was jealous, of his name, Stella.  Again, I am sorry.” Albert tried to look sufficiently contrite, but the old wounds still hurt when prodded so he was not easily set at ease.

Stella felt a surge of completeness, a wholeness that was new to her.   There was reason behind the madness, everything was making sense to her now.  She felt an eruption of love for all these people, but most importantly, for Robbie.  They had been fated, meant to be for the very beginning.

“Ma’am, come quickly, there is trouble in the garden.” David burst into the library unannounced, his face a flush of emergency heralding bad news for Elinor.  She quickly left the library followed by Albert, Merry, Stella.  The MacDougall took his dirk from the desk top, tucked it into his boot and followed calmly, but quickly.

Elinor, her heart racing, panic at the ready, ran through the kitchen to the small garden door.  Upon entering the garden she heard the cries of Gregor, on the ground his arms lifted in defense of his body, Malcolm hitting him with a short whip, screaming at him.

“Son of Satan, yer body is a sin before God, ye devil!  Ye will die with the witch!”

“Malcolm, stop this instant!” screamed Elinor.  Albert dashed ahead of her and grabbed Malcolm’s arm, pushing him away from Gregor, fighting to take the whip away from Malcolm.  Stella had rarely seen her father in a rage, but she witnessed now that he was a man of fire.  Albert pushed Malcolm against the wall, and held him there by the throat.  Malcolm struggled to free himself, but Albert’s grip was true.  Elinor and Merry both kneeled at Gregor’s side to care for him and to help him up.  Stella, looked around for a weapon, but found nothing but Gregor’s gardening tool, which had a handle long enough and thick enough to do some damage if wielded correctly so she grabbed it and went to Albert’s aid.

‘You stinking son of a bitch!” screamed Stella. The MacDougall had come into the garden at that moment and was nonplussed to see the melee, but quickly reconnoitering the problem, went to the wall and leaned his side into Malcolm trying to subdue him while Albert kept him pinned against the wall.

Malcolm in his rage pushed his brother and Albert both from him and from his sleeve produced a small dirk which his struck into the MacDougall’s side.  Elinor jumped when she heard the whoosh of air from the MacDougall, and the wince of pain on his face.  She ran to his side. Albert, momentarily stunned by the spurt of blood coming from the MacDougall and bending to assist him, let go of Malcolm for just an instant and lost control of the situation.

“Witchcraft!  Ye have allowed witchcraft into the house of MacDougall and now all must die.”   Stella moved closer to Malcolm, pointing the metal end of the garden hoe at him, seething with anger over the act of treachery done to the MacDougall.  As quick as a viper Malcolm moved from the wall, grabbed the garden hoe and pulled it toward him, bringing Stella within his grasp.  He reached for her neck and held on, turning her in his arms with his dirk at her throat.

“Today this witch is burnt and sent to hell.  Today we rid the MacDougalls of all filth and sin.”

Stella cursed herself for being so stupid as to let Malcolm get her around the throat like that.  She was madder than she was frightened and tried to calm herself to think clearly.

Robbie burst through the small garden door, saw Malcolm with Stella and was instantly, paralyzed with anger and fear for Stella.  He moved toward Malcolm.

“Malcolm!” he thundered.  “Let her go!”

“Stop or I slice her throat.”

Robbie stopped and stilled himself, afraid of Malcolm’s madness.  He moved not a hair but kept his gaze on Malcolm, his eyes burning holes into the madman’s face.  Stella tried to loosen his grip but the strength of madness is the strength of ten men and she could not move. She looked at Robbie and could see his eyes black with a fierceness whose roots were in murder.  It was the same look she had seen when he had killed the soldiers by the stream.  Her Robbie was now the deadly warrior and he was not going to allow Malcolm to hurt her.

With a voice of deadly calm Robbie spoke, “Malcolm ye die this day,” his sword at the ready, “Let her go and ye shall die quickly rather than suffer.  Now!”

“Do ye think to bargain with me, ye pup?  After ye steal my position do ye think that I will bend to yer will?  Ye will NEVER be Laird!  Never!  Nor will yer get be Laird.  This witch dies as the first.  By my hand.”  Malcolm’s rage was terrible to witness, his words chosen for their sting.

Robbie, caught off guard by Malcolm’s vituperative, was electrified by the madman’s words. 

“What say ye, Malcolm?” Robbie narrowed his eyes, his look keen and sharp and deadly.

“Yer Nellie died so easy, a push and tumble from the cliffs. Now this witch dies, blackened by fire and smoke. She will be sent to the blackest corner of hell where she belongs.”

Nellie had not committed suicide, but had been murdered by this dark fiend.  Driven by jealousy and lust for power Malcolm had cut Nellie’s very unhappy life short.

Stella looked at Robbie’s eyes and saw a slight flicker of understanding, but it was quickly replaced by his intent to kill Malcolm.  He would not allow Malcolm to take another from him.

The MacDougall, being tended to by Merry, looked at Malcolm and sneered, “Ye wretched beast!  I leave ye to Robbie’s revenge!”  Albert stood frozen by Elinor’s side, terrified of what Malcolm would do to Stella.  He did not want harm to come to her now that she had been reunited with her mother.  He owed her that much.  He looked to Robbie.

Pounding at the large garden gate caught Malcolm’s attention.  “Ye see!!  Yer people are ready to burn her. They are a’feared for their lives because of the witches and devils among them.”  Malcolm was frothing with rage, spittle spewing on his clothes and the back of Stella’s head. Elinor, panicked, and looked to Robbie, who was tense and ready, waiting for the one second that Malcolm would drop his guard.

He watched as Stella quieted her body, and grabbing Malcolm’s arm when he turned toward the pounding at the gate, she twisted ever so slightly allowing her body to turn and place her foot behind Malcolm’s. Bending at the waist she used his surprise at the lessoning of her struggle and tipped him forward throwing him flat on his back directly in front of her.

Before Robbie could reach Malcolm, Gregor, who had been lost in the confusion of Malcolm’s action swung his garden pick and it found its mark in Malcolm’s skull, his scream lost to the crowd pounding at the door.   Stella looked up and saw Gregor, his eyes wide with triumph smiling at her.  Elinor and the MacDougall turned their gaze to Gregor, astonished to see what they had thought only possible in a drawing unfold before them.

Robbie rushed to Stella’s side, holding her close, in spite of his great relief at her release, he was once again taken aback that she was able to defend herself with her magic tricks.  He desperately wanted her to teach him how to do this magic.

Gregor shuffled to the body, reaching for Malcolm’s hand, he unfurled it and took a piece of paper from the dead man’s grasp.  He smiled and showed the picture to Robbie, his most prized possession that had so enraged Malcolm.  It was the drawing that Stella had given him of his garden.

Chapter Nineteen

The banging on the large wooden gate increased in fury and the MacDougall left through the garden door to go through the castle to meet the mob, rather than risk opening the wooden gate. Merry had seen to his wound, giving him a cloth to staunch the bleeding. His warriors were already heading toward the bailey and awaited his command.

Robbie could smell pitch burning and he grew incensed at his clan, wanting to sever heads from those that threatened Stella.  Flashes of the staked woman burned in his memory and his rage flared.  He pressed Stella up against the wall closer to the small door. Robbie looked at the fear in Stella’s face, the pleading in her eyes and he knew that he would take her to the moon if that was where she was going to be the safest.

“Elinor,” he shouted, “take Stella into the keep. Stella, go, if the mob breaks through the gate I won’t be able to hold them all off.”  Even as he said it eight or nine warriors came into the garden through the small door and Robbie sighed with relief. He shouted orders posting them at strategic areas and looked back at Stella.

“Go, Stella, now!” Robbie pushed her toward the door and Merry and Stella both ran in through the small door, closely followed by Elinor and Gregor.

“Robbie, can you get us to Kilmartin as soon as possible?” asked a breathless Albert.  He had unsheathed his sword and although he always felt uncomfortable wielding a weapon he knew how to use one and would not hesitate to kill if necessary.

“Aye, Albert, but what is in Kilmartin that will help ye?”  Robbie knew that winning any battle included having all the information necessary to make a victorious strategy.  Kilmartin was too far from the sea for a boat, and he knew of no caves that would hide them in Kilmartin.

“Robbie, trust me on this, please.  We have to get to the Ballygowan Rocks.  We will be safe there.  Stella needs to get away from here as soon as possible.  We will return when reason rules again.” 

The Ballygowan Rocks.  Robbie felt an unearthly tingle spinning down his spine.  He knew the reputation of the Ballygowan Rocks but he trusted Albert, he was a man of science not a magician, and the urgency of the situation called for quick action.  Albert seemed to know what needed to be done, so he would do as he was bid.  He would die defending Stella and Albert if need be.

The MacDougall was now outside in the bailey on riot control, his soldiers pressing the people back away from the gate, his calm but forceful demeanor making some small headway in taming the crowds that Malcolm’s treachery had given birth to, but the danger was still very real and a glimpse of Stella would be all that was needed to incite their fears and ferocity again.

“Aye, Albert, we go to Ballygowan,“ said Robbie.