Highlander’s Devious Ally (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance)

by Adamina Young

  “Findlay is coming for dinner!” Lyall shouted after her, but there was no answer.

  “Women and dresses,” Matthew sighed, smiling. “They will soon be in heaven!”

  The evening meal was a convivial affair, since Fenella was there. Usually she was the life and soul of any gathering with her gossip, scandalous stories and jokes aplenty. Tonight, however, she seemed subdued, and her eyes kept straying to Findlay, who was carrying on an animated conversation with Matthew Galloway. Presently Ailith mentioned something to Findlay that brought Fenella into the conversation. Findlay smiled at her. It seemed that they had a mutual love of chess.

  “Ah!” Findlay gazed at Fenella in admiration. “A fellow devotee! We must have a game sometime.”

  “I would love to!” she said excitedly, clapping her hands. All her shyness had gone as Findlay’s dark blue eyes smiled into hers. “Can you find time on Monday afternoon for three games?”

  “Only three, Mistress Fenella?” he laughed, and her heart leapt. “No, let us make it five—no quarter asked or given!”

  “Agreed!” she said, smiling, and they shook hands on it. After that it was easy to talk to him, and they spoke about their horses, Findlay’s love of fishing, and Fenella’s constant search for the Loch Ness monster.

  “Surely you do not believe that?” Findlay asked, smiling at her indulgently.

  Fenella looked shocked. “Don’t you?”

  “I will believe it when I see it,” he replied, laughing.

  Fenella shook her head, frowning. “Oh ye of little faith!” she sighed.

  He gave her a mock punch on the arm, and she pretended to be hurt, then punched him back, giggling. From across the table, Ailith watched them fondly. Fenella seemed totally smitten with Findlay but he obviously regarded her more as a little sister, but he was due to leave just after the wedding and Ailith hoped that Fenella would not be heartbroken.

  It seemed that Lyall was thinking the same thing, for his eyes never left his sister for the whole time the conversation with Findlay went on. He noticed that he was not flirting with her, just laughing at her jokes and making a few of his own. Fenella’s face was alight, but he felt anxious; Findlay was a mature man and Fenella was barely out of girlhood.

  “How many women are you going to protect?” Ailith asked him, following the direction of his gaze.

  “Only two,” he replied, “and if Finn hurts my little sister he will have to contend with me. And I have never lost a fair fight—or an unfair one.”

  Looking at her betrothed’s bulging biceps, Ailith felt rather sorry for the man who even bruised Fenella’s tender heart.

  18

  An Unexpected Visitor

  Jock was feeling very sorry for himself. He ached all over, and his jaw felt as though it were on fire. Ailith had begged Lyall to allow him a little milk of the poppy to relieve his suffering, but he had refused, pointing out that her hands were still scabbed from her attempt to escape from him. She detested him, but she could not bear to think of any creature suffering, not even Jock. However, Lyall’s decision was final.

  Jock had seen Ailith once, when she came in with Lyall, but he could not speak to her and she did not talk to him either, merely stared at him with naked hatred in her eyes for the ten minutes she was there. This was the woman he had lusted after body and soul, but there was no way he could have her now; she was as out of reach as the stars in the sky. For a fleeting moment he had felt regret as he watched her graceful form and lovely face, but she had been the cause of his downfall and he would never forgive her.

  All he had to eat was a thin vegetable soup which he somehow managed to strain through his teeth, and a cup of milk. He was not allowed to eat any solid food at all, so he was always hungry and permanently dirty, since Lyall would not allow him to wash.

  “He will suffer as you suffered for a week, Ailie,” Lyall said grimly. “And I hope he enjoys it as much as you did.”

  They were all sitting at the breakfast table the day after Findly had been their guest for dinner.

  “Mister Galloway,” Lyall said heavily, “I am going to the dungeons. Do you want to come with me?”

  Matthew shot up from his chair. “Indeed I do!” he said ferociously. “I have never wanted anything more!”

  He was ahead of Lyall as they left the dining room, and preceded him down the stairs too, until they came to the gates of the dungeon. Lyall stopped him there.

  “I want you to calm down,” he said quietly. “You do not want him to see how upset you are, so be the better man and be dignified. Understand?”

  “I hope I can do it,” Matthew replied, sighing. “If I cannot I will walk away.”

  “Good man,” Lyall patted his shoulder.

  Lyall need not have worried about Matthew Galloway, because when he saw Jock he did not rant or roar or even rattle the cell bars. He laughed, and laughed and laughed at the ragged figure in front of him. He laughed until tears were running down his cheeks and his stomach was sore. When he stopped, he wiped his eyes and pointed at Jock. “And this is the man I chose for my daughter,” he said, shaking his head. “I will apologize to her again. I must have been out of my wits.”

  Jock looked back at him in mute frustration. He would love to have defended himself with his fists, but that was now impossible, and all he could do now was glare at Matthew in impotent rage.

  Just then, Findlay came in, hand in hand with a handsome dark woman, who looked so like him it was obvious that they were related. She was wearing a severe black dress, as if she were in mourning.“Lyall, Mister Galloway, this is my sister Marion,” he said, smiling. “Lyall, I hope you don’t mind me inviting her without my permission, but she has something to tell us.”

  “Not at all,” Lyall smiled confused and surprised. He bowed and kissed her hand. “How can I help you, Mistress?”

  Marion looked past Lyall to Jock, whose face was a mask of terror. “Have you worked it out yet M'Laird?” she asked as if she was talking to a child. “Daft Finn and Madam Marion are twin sister and brother, born from the same womb at the same time.” She held up a ledger bound in black leather. “In here are all Laird Jock’s secrets, gentlemen, all the bribes, blackmails, extortions which he told me over the years. He gave me the information freely, but he had no idea I had written it down.”

  Lyall was puzzled. “But if you did not torture him, how did you get it?” he asked. “He would not just tell you.”

  “Hmmm…” Marion thought for a moment. “When I say I did not torture him it is not exactly true. I did inflict pain, and Jock likes pain, but only from women, and only on his own terms. So I introduced myself to him one night in a ceilidh and told him I had heard of his peculiar likes. Word about things like that leaks out.

  “From then on he has paid me to inflict pain on him. I have never touched him with anything other than this,” she announced, producing a riding crop, “and I have never allowed him to lay a hand on me. I became his confidante, and he trusted me, which will be his undoing. He liked bragging about his nets as much as he liked performing them.” For a moment Lyall saw the discuss on her face.

  “He killed my brother, and now I will kill him.” She handed the book to Lyall. “Now I must be going M'Laird, but you will find everything you need to destroy that man here. And take this.” She handed him the riding crop. “I will not be needing it again. Goodbye.”

  She turned to go, but Lyall caught her arm. “Will you not stay for dinner and tell us more?” he asked. Marion McBlain fascinated him, and he knew that she would fascinate Ailie too.

  “You have the book,” she reminded him. “You need no more.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked, frowning. He wanted her to stay, not because he was attracted to her in any way, but because he could see the deep mind behind the dark eyes, and the thought of talking to her fascinated him.

  “Back to the convent of Saint Ursula, M'Laird,” she replied, smiling at the shock on his face. “My name is Sister Agatha. No
w I must go or I will miss Mass. Goodbye.”

  “I will see her into the carriage and come back,” Findlay said. “I expect you have a lot of questions.”

  “Hundreds,” Lyall said. And he did not mean only about Jock. Findlay had a sister? How many more secrets did he hide. They were a strange family indeed.

  At that moment he realised she had probably become a nun after Ranald’s death. So Findlay had lost his sister too because of Jock. He could now underhand a little better why Findlay hated him so much. His brother’s murder had really ripped his family apart and left him with no purpose in life.

  He took a deep breath, opened the book and began to read. First his eyes widened, then his face turned to a stony mask of anger. There, in Marion’s strong, bold script was the date of every crime Jock had ever committed, from blackmail to bribery to fraud, extortion, and even rape. He had apparently only killed once—Ranald—but the rest of his crimes numbered in the hundreds, and some of them had been committed against people he knew and admired.

  “Well, Jock,” Lyall said, his tone deliberately casual, “I think I will allow you to bathe again, for your life is going to be a very short one and we may as well make you smell better for the rest of your days. I will also give you a Bible, so that you can read it and repent.”

  Jock growled but could not say a word, so he sat fuming silently. Matthew had said little, but watched and decided that he should thank Lyall for saving Ailith from a fate worse than death.

  Findlay came back shortly afterwards.

  “What a remarkable woman!” Lyall said in admiration.

  Findlay laughed. “I know you are all shocked. But I swear I have no more secrets. Our sister and I chose to live strange lives. Not mentioning anything about her is her wish and I respect it. After my brother’s death she dedicated herself to a higher purpose, and only came in contact with ordinary people in order to help me get revenge.” It was clear he loved and admired her very much.

  “And as I said I have no more secrets. Pretending to be stupid for so many years is strange, but I thought I would only do it for some months only until I get the right chance to act. That came much later but I am so glad it has all ended. I can not wait to see him dead. I am sure my sister will be relieved too.”

  “But your sister is a nun,” Lyall pointed out. “A bride of Christ. Surely she should forgive him?”

  Findlay took the riding crop from Lyall’s hands. “That is between her and God,” he replied.

  That night, after the others had gone to bed, Lyall and Ailith stood on the topmost turret looking out to sea. A full moon shone in a clear starry sky, bathing everything in its cold blue light, and drawing a silver path down the sea from the horizon to the harbor.

  “I love moonlight,” Ailith whispered, leaning her head on Lyall’s shoulder.

  “And I love you,” he said tenderly, and she thought for the hundredth time what a beautiful voice he had. It was deep, husky, and when he kissed her and became aroused it throbbed with desire. “I never dreamed I could feel this way about anyone, Ailie. You have changed my life.”

  “For the better, I hope?” she asked, smiling.

  “Of course,” he replied, pulling her closer. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Anything,” she smiled.

  “Do you think it would be a good idea for us to buy Jock’s estate?” His voice was doubtful.

  “I think you should wait for the trial to be over,” Ailith replied. “If he is sentenced to death, since he has no heirs and no other family that I know of, then the property will be up for auction. Then we can think on it.”

  “And your house?” he went on.

  “Hmmm…” she whispered in his ear and his eyes widened in a pretense of shock.

  “I did not hear that!” he laughed, then stroked a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Do you know why I first fell in love with you?”

  “No, but I will torture you till you tell me!” she replied, tickling him until he begged for mercy.

  He grabbed her wrists, still laughing. “Stop it, you mad woman!” Then he wrapped her in a bear hug and squeezed her till she screamed. When they had stopped laughing, he looked down at her, still smiling. “That is why I love you,” he said fondly. “Because you make me laugh, just like my mother used to. I thought that when she died we would have no merriment in the castle, but you will bring it with you, Ailie.”

  She looked doubtful for a moment, tipping her head on one side as if considering what he had said. “What if I leave it behind at my old house?” she asked, frowning.

  “Then the wedding is off,” he said simply.

  “What if I do this?” she whispered, then stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. She felt his immediate response as he made an involuntary moan then strained her against him, ravaging her lips with his. Now was the moment she loved, when the power was all hers; this big, strong, fierce man was all hers.

  When she drew back, she could see that she had unsettled him very badly. He was breathing heavily and his eyes blazed passionately into hers.

  “Thank God we only have one more week to wait!” he said.

  19

  Beginnings and Endings

  Jock McCauley was transported to Inverness gaol. Findlay, Ailith, Lyall, and Marion went to testify against him, and with the evidence of Marion’s book to back them up they presented a very convincing case. No one would give evidence on behalf of Jock McCauley, not even Fergus Brown, and he had to write down all his arguments since he could not speak. Despite everything, Ailith felt rather sorry for him.

  He was pronounced guilty straight away, and was taken to the gallows on the spot. A priest had been summoned to hear his confession, then he looked around at his accusers one last time with a glance of pure hatred.

  Marion and Lyall watched solemnly as the executioner placed the noose around his neck, then Marion began to pray silently, holding her rosary beads.

  Ailith could not watch, and buried her face in Lyall’s chest, but Findlay cheered as the executioner pulled the lever and the trapdoor beneath Jock’s feet sprang open, and with a jerk he descended into nothingness. There was an audible crack as his neck broke; he had died instantly, for which Ailith at least was thankful.

  “I have decided not to turn my house into a brothel,” Ailith informed Lyall at the breakfast table two days before the wedding.

  Everyone stared at her, astonished.

  “Were you seriously thinking about it?” Findlay asked, staring at her in astonishment.

  Ailith sipped her ale and nodded her head. “It would be a very profitable enterprise, and one that will lead to gainful employment for girls in the village.”

  There was a stunned silence during which everyone gazed at her in horror.

  “But I decided against it,” she went on, “because I would have to build a home for unwed mothers behind it.”

  Her face was so serious that it took a moment for the others to catch on. Findlay was the first to double up with laughter, and the others swiftly joined in. Lyall gazed at her; Ailith was the happiest when she was making people laugh.

  “So what will you do with it?” Fenella asked curiously.

  “I am going to make it into an almshouse for the elderly, the poor, and the infirm,” Ailith announced. “Marion—Sister Agatha—has medical skills. So has Mister Reid; the apothecary, Mistress Kennie; and the midwife, Mistress Grant. We can employ many people to clean, change linen, and help with washing patients. The church is nearby in case we have to have the services of the priest, and the house has plenty of space. We will need it, for the Sisters of St. Ursula have unearthed a holy relic which has already begun to attract many pilgrims, and not only will they need accommodation, they will need medical care.”

  “What is the relic?” Maria asked curiously.

  “It is a skeleton,” Ailith replied. “The church thinks it is the mortal remains of St. Columba McCarthy, an itinerant priest and gifted healer who traveled the Highlands pr
eaching the gospel and tending to the sick two hundred years ago or thereabouts. Some say he even performed miracles. Anyway, he took his vows of poverty very seriously and one day he gave his horse to someone in need and he never got another one, preferring to walk everywhere in all weathers.

  “Eventually it is said, because no one really knows, that he caught a fever and died, but no one could find his body. Until now. A crofter unearthed a skull on his land, and when he dug a little further he found the remains of a monk’s habit, a Celtic cross, and a set of wooden rosary beads still clutched in the skeleton’s bony fingers. It was established that he was traveling to St. Ursula’s, so the Church is sure that it is him.”

  “Astonishing!” Findlay was awestruck. “I thought that was just a story.”

  “Even if it is,” Matthew said thoughtfully, “more people are going to be coming to the town. They walk to the city of Santiago de Compostela in Spain to see the remains of St. James, and he has been dead for hundreds of years. Perhaps Kinlochan and Inverlieth will be the same.”

  “Then I will buy Jock’s castle,” Lyall announced. “And use one part for paying guests, the other for the staff and their families. It should benefit the whole village.”

  “What a wonderful idea!” Fenella was exuberant. “When can we start?”

  “When the castle is ours,” Lyall answered, laughing. “There will be other bidders too, Fenella.”

  “But we can begin on my house straight after the wedding,” Ailith consoled her. “And you can help me find great bargains for the building materials. Between us, we can get the best prices for everything!”

  Ailith looked at Findlay and saw that he was smiling at them.

  “When are you going home, Finn?” she asked.

  “The day after the wedding,” he replied, suddenly looking somber. “I will not be looking forward to it.”