A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2)

by Darcy Armstrong

  “I said it was special once, Fynn,” he said, “but no' anymore.”

  “How can something be special and then no' special?” Fynn asked, his face scrunched.

  “Things dinnae need to be special forever. Sometimes things that were special once become less so, and other things take their place.”

  “Tell me about it,” Fynn asked. “Please?”

  Mathe looked up at Lilidh and she stared back, feeling herself gripped with a strange fear. He nodded slowly. “Well, like ye, I didnae have a father when I grew up,” he said. “Or a mother, actually. But by chance I met someone who took me in and gave me a home.”

  Lilidh remembered it all too well; she and Mathe had only been seeing each other for a short time when there was an incident up in Glen Knapp. Mathe had finished up for the day in the sawmill and the two of them were enjoying a walk through the forest, when a group of men on horseback appeared. They were hunting, and looked to be important, so the two of them stood back and let them ride past.

  Only as they did so, a wild boar burst through the underbrush and charged one of them. The man’s horse reared and threw him, and before she knew it, Mathe had closed the space and put himself between the boar and the man, his small wood blade the only weapon to hand. The boar hit him full in the chest before the other hunters could react. Lilidh remembered her scream as Mathe pitched backwards, limp and ragged, while the others descended on the boar with spears.

  The man who was charged turned out to be the old Laird McCaskill, and when he learned of Mathe’s circumstances, had him moved into the castle to recover. In hindsight, Lilidh knew that was the beginning; the start of the long road that wound to this very day.

  “I started to work for the man,” Mathe continued, “and over time we became close. He was almost like the father that I never had. He taught me about the world, and of its people, and of power. And on my twentieth birthday, he gave me the sword.”

  Mathe looked down and frowned. Lilidh remembered how happy he’d been when the old laird presented it to him. To Mathe, the sword meant more than what the old man intended. To the laird, it was doubtless just a simple tool to exert power and influence over others; to act with his will. But to Mathe, it was a gift from a father to a son. He’d taken the sword from the laird, thanked him, and then walked home with Lilidh in silence.

  And it was only when he closed the door that he broke down into tears, clutching the sword to his chest.

  “It was important to me for a long time,” Mathe said. “I wore it proudly for what it was and what it meant.”

  “I wish I could see it,” Fynn said wistfully.

  “Aye, but it’s gone now.”

  “Did ye lose it?”

  “Nay,” Mathe answered. “But I came to realise that I didnae need it anymore. It was taking me down a path that I didnae want to walk. It’s still important to me, but now it’s because it’s a reminder. When I think of the sword, I dinnae think of what I’ve lost, Fynn, but what I’ve gained.”

  The boy frowned. “That doesnae make any sense.”

  Mathe smiled. “It will, when ye’re older. And do ye remember what else we talked about at the blacksmith? About hammers?”

  “A hammer is better because it creates,” the boy recited, “and a sword only takes away.”

  “Aye,” Mathe said, looking up at Lilidh, his hand still on her knee. “That’s right. And it’s a time for building. So what say ye help me gather some of these fallen branches, and we’ll make something wonderful together, ye and I.”

  The stars were out overhead as they passed under the southern gate and back into Dun Lagaidh.

  It had been a long day. Fynn had fallen asleep hours ago, and Mathe carried him gently in his arms. Her husband was still deceptively strong and didn’t waver or complain. Lilidh was sure that if she were carrying the boy, her arms would have dropped off miles ago.

  The town was nearly empty as they made their way towards the west gate, and lit braziers cast flickering shadows on every wall. Lilidh didn’t often find herself walking the town after sunset and supposed that today had been a day of new experiences. For one brief, beautiful day, Lilidh had forgotten about everything else and just enjoyed the time spent with her family.

  She shivered in the cool air at the memory, and once again asked herself the question that had played on her mind all afternoon.

  Where did this end?

  Mathe had once again reaffirmed his reasons for returning, and he spoke with such quiet determination that it would have been easy - oh, so easy - to believe him. To wrap herself in the comfort of knowing that her husband would take care of her and make things right. Only how did a person like MacBrennan ever make things right? The things he had done, and the person he became, were simply too vast to erase, too ingrained into the collective mind of the town.

  And yet he was trying. She saw the way he acted with Fynn, and it made her heart ache. She saw how her son looked at Mathe when he wasn’t looking. She knew what was happening, right before her eyes, and it filled her with such a deep and terrible fear. Please dinnae leave again, she whispered in her mind. But was her silent plea for Fynn, or for herself? He looked at her in such a way that brought back memories of their youth, made her feel both warm and cold from the things unsaid in that gaze. She’d been alone for so long, that now Mathe had returned, she found herself with a growing longing for… something. His touch. His love. His body. Was it so strange for a woman to long for her husband?

  “I enjoyed today,” Mathe said quietly to her.

  “Aye,” Lilidh replied. “It was good for the lad.”

  “Just the lad?”

  She looked at him. “I suppose it was good for me, too.”

  “Ye always did love the woods,” Mathe said. “I’m glad ye came.”

  They stepped off the cobbled street and Mathe followed her across the planks of wood, balancing precariously with Fynn in his arms. They stepped onto the porch and Lilidh opened the front door. Then she turned back to Mathe, feeling suddenly shy. He stood and watched her in the darkness, and the dim light of the moon cut across his face and made shadows under his eyes.

  “Ye're still so frail,” she said, reaching one hand up before she could stop herself. It grazed his cheek, and she felt the strange prickle of his beard. A part of her wanted him to shave, so she could look full upon the face of her husband once more, and yet another part didn’t want to see that man again. This was Mathe, now, not the clean-shaven MacBrennan.

  “I’ve changed, aye,” Mathe said softly. “But ye’re still as bonny as the day I met ye.”

  “At the butcher shop,” Lilidh replied with a smile.

  “Ye made me drop my sausages.”

  “I was in a hurry,” Lilidh said with a sniff. “And I helped ye pick them up.”

  “Aye, ye did,” Mathe said with a smile. “And helped me eat them later, as I recall.”

  Lilidh smiled in return but said nothing, feeling such a strange feeling inside. It was almost pain; a yearning for something that could have never been. A life that they were never able to live.

  Mathe passed Fynn across to her, and Lilidh reached her arms out to take him. And as the boy snuggled into her chest and her hands wrapped protectively around his body, Mathe leant down and kissed her.

  She wasn’t expecting it, and yet couldn’t fight against it. His lips met hers and for one moment she froze, her mind unable to comprehend what was happening, and then her body took over. She tilted her head and stepped forward towards him, gently, and they kissed under the moonlight with Fynn asleep between them. Mathe’s beard tickled her chin and his arms wrapped around them both, and she felt the combined warmth from their bodies, joined as they were.

  And then he pulled away, looking at her intensely. She looked back, her head still tilted and eyes half closed, still able to taste him on her lips. She wanted more, and the thought both scared and excited her beyond reasoning. What was happening to her?

  “Goodnight, Lilidh,�
�� he said, and then stepped off the porch and into the night.

  13

  Mathe MacBrennan

  Mathe sat on the bed and looked down into his coin purse with a frown.

  Even with the money he would earn from finishing the table, it was still a paltry sum. Certainly enough for him, but it would never make a significant contribution to a house for Lilidh and the boy.

  He lay back with a groan. Yesterday had been such an amazing day, and it ended on a perfect note. Mathe closed his eyes and smiled at the memory of kissing his wife, and how right it felt. So strange and yet still so familiar. So exciting, and yet it filled him with such fear. He wanted her more than words could express, and that need had seen him survive six years in the darkness. He didn’t know if he could go on without her.

  And she had kissed him back.

  Mathe laughed to himself, imagining he could still taste her. She had kissed him back.

  But a kiss wouldn’t buy a house, so once again Mathe sat up and considered his options. There was only one thing to do, he knew, even as he shied away from it. Building tables and fixing chairs would make more than enough coin if they already had a house together, but it wasn’t going to be enough to save for one.

  No, Mathe knew he needed something more. And he had only one card on the table.

  With a sigh, he rose and dressed, then ducked out of the West Gate and started towards the castle.

  Mathe paused at the base of the hill and looked up, stretching his neck to the imposing fortress above. This was as close as he’d walked since returning to Dun Lagaidh, and the thought of going up to the castle brought an acute sense of dread. He’d made this walk many times as MacBrennan, in the arrogant gait that he’d trained and practiced in the mirror for more hours than he could remember. People would part at the sight of him, stepping quickly to either side of the road to allow him to sweep past, his eyes taking them all in one by one as they dropped their gazes. MacBrennan’s true power was fear, and Mathe cultivated it every time he stepped outside.

  The memory pained him as he started the long road uphill. The cobbled avenue was busy with people coming to and from the castle, and Mathe picked his way through them carefully, weaving and moving through the crowd. He didn’t remember the hill as being quite so steep, nor so long, but eventually he reached the top and stood at one end of the long stone bridge that ran to the main gate. For the last time Mathe asked himself if he was resolved on this course of action, and once again he knew that there was no other way. He needed to do the right thing for Lilidh and Fynn.

  “State yer business,” the guard said as he approached.

  “I’m here to see the laird,” Mathe replied.

  The guard frowned. “Is he expecting ye?”

  “Nay,” Mathe replied, “although he’ll want to see me.”

  “Ye cannae just walk up here and expect to see the laird,” the guard said. “He’s a busy man. Ye need an appointment, and there’s a waiting list.”

  “Fine,” Mathe said. “Can I see the steward, then? Fergus may be able to help.”

  “Ye know Fergus?”

  “Aye, and Blaine, actually.”

  The guard looked closely at him. “What did ye say yer name was?”

  “I didnae, but it’s auld Mathe.”

  “Just auld Mathe?”

  “Aye,” Mathe replied. “Just that.”

  The guard pulled a servant over and whispered to him. The young girl nodded once and disappeared into the castle, and the man turned back. “We’ll try to find the steward for ye.”

  Mathe nodded. “My thanks.” He walked over to the edge of the parapet and looked down over the town, noting the location of the West Gate and Lilidh’s house. It looked even worse from up here; a small shantytown of houses in a natural depression of the earth. The end of the cobbled street was stark in the way it suddenly gave way to the mud that sparkled in the light. He was doing the right thing, he told himself.

  “Mathe,” a voice called, and he turned to see the steward walking towards him.

  “Fergus,” he said in greeting. “I’d like to speak to Blaine.”

  “About what?”

  “I’ve reconsidered his offer.”

  Fergus nodded and looked at him for a long moment. “Well, in that case,” he finally said, “let’s get inside, shall we?”

  “Why?” Blaine asked, leaning back in his chair. The fireplace beside them roared.

  “Because I need something from ye,” Mathe said.

  “I already told ye there would be generous compensation.”

  He shook his head. “I need something specific. No' just compensation.”

  The laird frowned. “Then name yer price, and I’ll decide if it’s appropriate.”

  Mathe nodded, feeling himself sweat in the heat. He didn’t want to move or show his discomfort though; he needed to appear in total control of the situation. He hadn’t bartered for a long time and had an inkling that his old methods of intimidation wouldn’t get very far with Blaine McCaskill.

  “I need a house,” he said.

  “A house?” Blaine asked, blinking in surprise. Behind him, Fergus looked down at Mathe and shook his head.

  “Aye,” Mathe replied, “but no' for me.”

  “For yer wife and son.”

  “For them. Ye know why I’ve come home, and what I need to do. Lilidh and Fynn live in one of the houses on the western wall; the auld timber things in the ditch.”

  Blaine twisted to look at Fergus. “I thought we knocked those down,” he muttered. “They were never meant to be permanent.”

  Fergus shrugged. “They’re all full. We cannae exactly put the residents out on the streets, can we?”

  “Ye know those houses arenae fit for anyone,” Mathe said, “let alone a woman and child. I need to see them moved to a place of safety and security, large enough for the lad to have his own space.”

  “Ye ask a lot,” Blaine said. “Even the fairest compensation for yer time wouldnae come close to the price of a house.”

  “As do ye. If ye could get those names any other way, we wouldnae be having this conversation.”

  “It’s too much,” Blaine said.

  Mathe shrugged. “It’s my price. A house for Lilidh and Fynn, and I’ll get ye the names ye need. Take it or leave it.”

  “Ye cannae afford to leave it,” the laird said. “And neither can I.”

  “I can help Lilidh in other ways,” Mathe said. “It might take longer, but I’ll see that she gets a house, one way or another.”

  “And maybe I’ll find another way to get what I need,” Blaine said. “Despite what ye think, there are always other ways.”

  “Maybe there is. It will take longer for ye as well, though. Maybe too long, with the mood of the town being what it is.”

  The laird considered him in silence, and Mathe could see the offer roll around in his mind. Would he take it? Mathe was bluffing about being able to help Lilidh in other ways; aside from this chance, the only path forward was many long years of labour; years living in that godforsaken house while it fell down around them.

  “Fine,” Blaine said, and Fergus looked down sharply.

  “Ye accept?” Mathe asked, not trusting himself to believe it.

  “Aye, I accept. A house for Lilidh and Fynn, in return for the names of the primary instigators who work against me.”

  Mathe nodded and tried to hide his satisfaction. “There is one thing I need to be clear on.”

  Blaine’s mouth thinned. “Ye're pushing yer luck, MacBrennan. Push it too far and I might just change my mind.”

  “Only one thing.”

  “So, speak up.”

  “I just want it to be clear that I willnae do anything - anything - to risk what I’ve come back for. A house for Lilidh and the lad are important, but making amends with them is even more so. I’ll do whatever I can to get those names, within reason, but if it will put my relationship with Lilidh at risk, then I’ll need to stop.”


  “I ken,” Blaine said. “I’m no' a monster, and I’m no' about to put ye in a position that ye feel ye cannae get out of. I’m only asking for information, and only if it’s given to ye freely. Dinnae dig around in yer past, Mathe; that’s a place better left alone. If ye think ye need to do something ye'd regret, then I’d rather ye did naught at all.”

  Mathe nodded. “Aye, so we’re in agreement?”

  “We’re in agreement. If ye get me the names, then ye’ll get yer house. Any idea how long it might take?”

  “Maybe a few days,” Mathe said. “Maybe even a week. I need to lay a bit of groundwork first, make myself known to them. I cannae look too hasty.”

  “I’d like regular updates,” Blaine said.

  “How regular?”

  “Every few days. Ye dinnae need to come here; we can organise somewhere for ye to meet Fergus discretely down in town.”

  Mathe considered it. He didn’t like the idea, and wasn’t sure if he’d have much to share after such a short amount of time, but he also didn’t want to risk the bargain he’d just struck. After all, the laird was right; he was pushing his luck.

  “Fine, every few days,” he said. “But no' in town. Make it down at the auld mill by the Dundonnell. Less chance anyone will see us, and I have a plausible reason for being there.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m going to teach the lad how to fish,” Mathe explained. “Rabby gave me two auld fishing rods that need a bit of work, but should come good. Fynn loves playing with his toy rods, so I want to take him down to the river and try the real thing. Perhaps the auld jetty is still there.”