The Highlander's Outlaw Bride (14 page)

“Aye, and his parents were verra sad. Then one day, a wise man happened by and learned what had happened to Rory McGillivray, and he thought up a plan to get the young man back.
Return a year and a day to the place where ye lost yer brother
, he said,
and, carrying a Rowan cross, enter the rock, boldly and in the name of the Highest, and claim yer brother
.”

“And if he doesnae want to come with ye, grab him!” Jamie’s arm shot out, hand fisted as he grabbed the air. Brianna peered at the over-excited lad and wondered if she had chosen the best faerie tale this night. She softened her voice and ran her fingers lovingly through his red-gold curls, causing her mind to dart unbidden to the thick golden hair of the man who would return in two weeks to marry her. She pushed the memory aside and finished the story.

“And so Donald returned a year and a day to the place where the faeries lived. He saw his brother dancing and he ran to Rory and grabbed him by his shirt, insisting he come home immediately.”

Brianna dropped her voice to a hypnotic cadence. “And nothing Donald could say would convince Rory he had been dancing for a year and a day until he saw the calves were now grown, the lambs were now sheep, and the babies were walking around the house.”

“Did he truly dance for a year and a day?” Jamie asked sleepily. Tam flopped on his side and sighed mightily, closing his eyes.

Brianna pulled Jamie’s now-pliant body against her, wrapping him in her arms. “Aye. He truly danced for a year and a day,” she replied as she kissed the top of his head. “And all because he wouldnae listen to his brother’s warnings. I would imagine his feet were sore.”

Jamie snuggled against her and she swallowed against the lump in her throat. She would miss the wee loun once she was married.

Chapter 17

September 1387, Wyndham

“Lass, ye shouldnae be away from the house alone,” Gavin chided as he walked through the doorway into Maude’s stall. Dropping her grooming rag, her mouth an ‘O’ of surprise, Brianna stepped into Maude’s range.

“Oh!” she cried, whirling as Maude nipped her arm. She reeled backward, straight at Gavin. Reflexively, he caught her in his arms. Brianna stiffened, and Gavin released her and took a step backward. Brianna shifted away as well, rubbing the red and blue mark on her arm.

“Hateful beast,” she muttered. But Gavin knew better. Maude was all the comfort Brianna had had when her ma died, all the understanding she sought when her father turned on her in his drunkenness. Brianna loved the mare’s willfulness, and delighted in thwarting her attempts to nip and kick. It was a distinct mark of the state of Brianna’s nerves to see she had fallen to Maude’s mischievous ways and then cursed the mare for it.

“’Twill heal soon and leave a reminder for ye not to turn yer back on the beast.”

Brianna flung him a look capable of splitting stones, and he shrugged his answer. “Ye should have someone with ye if ye leave the hall. Ye dinnae even have young Tam with ye. That mare is a menace, but unlikely to protect ye.”

“I dislike being followed. Tam plays with Jamie.” She glowered at him.

“Nonetheless, as captain I insist on it. Jamie will be watching ye and if ye break the rules, he will, too.”

Brianna flushed, obviously restless and out of sorts. She gave a grunt of reluctant agreement. “Will ye stay until I finish grooming Maude?”

He flopped onto a pile of straw in one corner of the stall, well out of range of both ends of the mare.

Brianna rubbed the mare’s legs with a rag, bringing a shine to the black stockings where mud had earlier marred her coat. “Do ye know what is happening?”

Gavin gazed into the distance, not sure if he was ready to share his thoughts on the situation at Wyndham. He hated to be the one to broach a subject that would only dismay and disillusion her. “Well, I havenae heard from MacLaurey. Though ’tis been but four days since we parted, and I would guess the laird has his hands full dealing with Malcolm.”

Brianna snorted inelegantly at the reminder. “Four days gone leaves only ten until I am to wed. Ten days until I must leave Jamie and Da. Ten left to find who betrayed me to the sheriff. My concern lies with Wyndham.”

“Aye. But I have no facts to give ye.”

Brianna fisted a hand on one hip. “Then give me yer thoughts.”

“I dinnae think ye will like them.”

With exaggerated care, Brianna spread her rag on the top edge of the wall, then turned to give Gavin her full attention. He regarded her in silence. She waited, her tapping foot betraying her fading patience. Finally Gavin gave a single nod.

“’Tis only something I have noticed. Nothing more, and I have shared this with no one.” He paused, carefully forming his words. “Do ye know if Auld Willie ever married?”

The question left Brianna silent for a moment, a confused look on her face. “Nae. In all my years, I have never known him to have more than a passing relationship with any woman. He has always been devoted to me and Jamie, especially since Ma died. We are his family.”

“Ye dinnae know Geordie was Auld Willie’s son?”

Brianna stared at him, aghast. “What? Why would I not know this?”

“He is a peculiar man, yer uncle. He never acknowledged Geordie as his son, though Geordie’s grandmother was only too willing to tell me the story yesterday. Seems her daughter widowed young, and yer uncle took an interest in her. He was her off-and-on lover for several years before she conceived a child, but by then he had tired of her and when she confronted him with the news, he accused her of trying to push another man’s child on him.

“From that time on, he refused to see her, turning his back on her and the child. He told her to find someone else to support her, for he had nothing to offer her or the bairn.”

Brianna stared at Gavin, speechless, struggling to come to grips with the fact Auld Willie had sired a child and she had never known. “How could he do that? We should have grown up together, yet he was denied his place in the family because—why?”

Her heart pounded, distressed for the young man now dead and beyond her care. “Nae father would willingly deny his child. Only a madman—” She broke off. “A curse of the family, then?” she whispered. “My da—”

“Nae, Brianna. Lord Brendan was a good da before yer ma died. He loved ye more than life itself, but he wasnae strong enough to face losing Lady Elinor. Had she lived, yer and Jamie’s lives would have been verra different.”

Thoughtful, Brianna nodded. It was true her da had been a very different man when she was young. He taught her to ride, to swim, and to tickle the trout in the streams. He taught her not to cry over a skinned knee and to be brave and strong—so strong she had been able to hold her head up after her husband’s death, amid his father’s curses, and take over Wyndham’s honor when her da fell into a drunken stupor.

She ached for Jamie, who would never know his father as he’d once been, and for Geordie, who’d never known his father at all. Since Ewan and William returned with Geordie’s body, the entire hall had plunged into mourning. Brianna had not seen Auld Willie since then, but had assumed he was busy seeing to Wyndham’s protection. Now she wondered if he’d been out of his rooms at all.

“Has anyone seen him since—since Geordie—” She broke off worriedly, unable to finish the question.

“Nae. He has been in his rooms. And the lass who takes his meals to him reports she leaves the tray outside his door. When she returns for it later, the food is untouched.”

“Untouched?” Brianna frowned.
Just what I need—another auld man sickening
.

“Aye. But I checked on him this morning.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “What did he say?”

Gavin grunted. “He told me to
hie myself away
, in words less suited to yer ears.”

Brianna rolled her eyes and tamped down her mounting frustration. Her time was running out. In her absence, her da had sunk deeper into his nether-world and she had been unable to initiate a conversation with him about choosing a steward to help him once she left. And Auld Willie, once her staunch supporter, had holed himself in his room, grieving a child he’d never recognized.

“If he doesnae come out of his room soon, something will have to be done.”

“Now, lass. Give the man some space. He has acknowledged his son’s existence and his death in the same day. I will keep a watch on him.” Gavin rose to his feet. Opening the stall door, he held it for Brianna to step through. She gathered her skirts and gave a curt nod.

“I will leave him to ye, then. I must meet with Geordie’s grandmither and see to the funeral preparations.”

Gavin nodded. “I will send Rabbie with ye.”

She wiped her hands on a rag and rolled her sleeves down, smoothing her skirts. ’Twas not a duty she looked forward to, but she would accept the responsibility to see Geordie got the honor he deserved. Rabbie’s support would be welcome.

Chapter 18

September, Corfin Castle, Morven

Conn drew his horse to a stop and stared across the sparkling water to the shining white stone walls of Corfin Castle. Perfect timing brought them to the shore as the tide at the foot of the loch ebbed. Now the horses could be ridden across to the stone causeway before the castle gates.

The barred gates.

How could he have forgotten how easy it was to seal off the castle—and how difficult it was to gain entrance once the gates were shut? He rubbed the back of his neck. Weariness tugged the corners of his eyes and strained his shoulders. It was time to deal with Malcolm.

Bray nudged his mount alongside and nodded at the fortress. “Do you think your
cousin
will let us in?”

Conn stared at the banner flying above the castle keep. Generations of MacLaureys had flown the same standard since they first moved into the big glen and built Corfin Castle, and it infuriated him that his cousin had given himself the right to use the crest when he was merely related by marriage and no true MacLaurey.

“Not if he values his life.” He nudged his stallion forward, jaw set resolutely. Before Bray and Gillis could prod their own mounts, the MacLaurey battle cry rolled from his lips and he spurred Embarr into the shoals of Loch Mor.

Water spray flashed like diamonds in the early morning light. Bray and Gillis pulled abreast of Conn, and together they thundered through the low tide and to the stone path as guards opened the wooden gates, leaving the portcullis down. By the time they came to a halt, men poured into the bailey, many still shaking the sleep from their eyes as their bodies responded instinctively to the summons.

Conn sat astride his stallion, who still pranced with the excitement of the race across the loch. Determinedly, Conn held his ground, surveying the men who peered at them through the stout bars with bristling suspicion, angry they answered to Malcolm and did not recognize his authority.

Embarr suddenly reared, and Conn sank deep into his saddle. “Where is Sir Malcolm?” he shouted, the title a sour taste in his mouth. He pivoted in the saddle, pinning each man with his gaze, as Embarr jarred to the ground.

A gray-haired man Conn did not recognize, approached the gate with an arrogant swagger, picking his teeth with a narrow stick in his mouth.

“His Lordship isnae up.” He pulled the twig from his mouth and worked his tongue around before spitting something small and dark onto the ground. “Ye will have to wait.” He turned his back and sauntered away.

Conn’s jaw clenched in fury. He understood this man, likely one of Malcolm’s, would not recognize him, but never during his father’s lifetime had a guest been treated so rudely. Before he could react, a missile flew through the air and landed with incredible accuracy on the back of the odious man’s head. He stumbled forward, then whirled to face his attacker, his face twisted with fury.

“Who threw that…” He glanced around for the weapon that had hit him. “Oatcake?” His voice scaled upward in disbelief as he spotted the hardened lump of oats on the ground.

Conn’s gaze flew to Gillis who had dismounted his horse and still stood with his hand on his saddlebags. The lad fairly bristled with anger and was apparently oblivious to the danger he put them in. Bray leaned in tight. “Surrounded by armed men does not make it tactically clever for young Gillis to pick a fight—
ai-je droit
?”

Conn stared straight ahead. “Hopefully we will live long enough for him to learn from his rash actions.” Gillis took two steps toward the gate, hands fisted on his hips.

Bray shrugged. “Mayhap not.”

Gillis ignored them and leaned forward, his fists clenched aggressively. “Dinnae glower at me, ye
crabbit
auld fool! Ye willnae treat yer laird with such disrespect!”

The man squared his shoulders, his bulging forearms folded against his chest. With a taunting laugh, he challenged the lad. “Me laird? The auld laird has been dead these past two months, and there is a new laird now. What are ye about, lad?” The man peered from Gillis to the two men still mounted beside him. Conn kicked Embarr forward a few steps, stopping the stallion only inches from the gate, surveying the men in the yard who stood silent with anticipation.

“I am Connor of Morven, son of Ian MacLaurey.” His voice rang harsh through the stone-walled barbican.

Eyes widened as men took a hesitant step closer, eyeing their blustering leader with caution. One grizzled warrior with a pronounced limp and an eye patch jutted his chin at Conn in challenge.