The Highlander's Fiery Bride: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  Dropping the cup, Angus raced back to the last room and went to the table where the scroll rested. It was too dark for Angus to read if they were Gaelic symbols, Irish Celtic symbols, or English words. He rolled it back up and stuck it into his pouch.

  He searched and found a back door that was left hanging open. He pushed it with harder force than needed and strode into the backyard, cursing the lack of a moon’s light. Falling back into his old soldiering mindset he looked for any sign of what had happened to Magdalene. Treading carefully, he searched the ground at the very back, found wheel marks that indicated a wagon or a cart had been there. The marks were fresh. A single gift of luck in this whole night.

  Titan was resting just behind the wall and Angus went to get him. Hurrying, he got to the horse, who was slowly swiveling his head from side to side in a wary look he probably had absorbed from his master. Grabbing him by the reins, Angus led him through the front entrance and back to the spot where the marks began. Mounting him, Angus kept his eyes on the ground and spurred Titan on, having trust the wise animal would follow his lead.

  If ye dared harm Magdalene, I will have ye burning at the stake, witch.

  Seabhag Crag Mountains

  Having long given up on struggling, Magdalene was focusing on saving her strength. The cart guided by her aunt was traveling on an incline now but she could not see where they were. Her heart was so heavy and filled with shame. Angus was right about her aunt but her foolish confidence had spurred her to run right into danger.

  It was not only Magdalene who had been fooled but her mother, too. There was no way her mother would have sent her off to a woman who was the personification of a deceiver. The tales she had heard of Aunt Perse were good ones, noble ones, in fact. Her mother had even told her about the time Perse had saved her mother from drowning. How was it that she had become so evil?

  Tears dripped down her cheek as her heart burned within her. I am so, so sorry Angus. I should have listened to you. And now, I am going to die because I did not. Forgive me, my love, please forgive me.

  She did not know how long they had traveled but the light of dawn was breaking through the clouds. She heard Aunt Perse cursing under her breath. “Damnation, we should have gotten here before the night passed. The old power works better at a moonless night.”

  A soft surge of hope sprang into Magdalene’s chest. If the night was gone, perhaps Perse would wait until she came back again. She might have time to escape. She closed her eyes wishing hard that was not where she was.

  That she was back at the Williamson home, in a warm bed with Angus’ arms wrapped around her. A hard bump to the back of her head dispelled that tiny comfort instantly. Her head was constantly in pain and her stomach was in knots. Her limbs had long gone numb and her skin was rubbed raw. This was hell on earth.

  Her head thrummed but suddenly the rocks under the cart smoothed out into a softer texture, silt maybe. Relieved, she breathed out as the pain in her head slowed to a dull throb. The night clouds were breaking up as pink-gold sunlight strengthened. The cart then dipped and the tilt allowed her to look up. They were heading towards a rocky outcropping with wide cave openings. Crows were circling above and their ominous cawing settled into her chest like lead.

  Dour images of the carnivorous birds picking at her lifeless body filled her mind and her heart fluttered in fear. The cart was drawn into a cave and the first sensation that hit her was the dank musty air pricking across her skin and her nose wrinkled at the smell of mold and animal dung.

  Dark jagged spits descended from the ceiling and merged with columns growing from the floor scatted across the cave. Passing under some sharp-pointed spits she feared any one of them would suddenly fall on her, piercing her in half.

  The cart was guided through a wide passage and then dipped. Darkness enveloped her and her eyes strained to see but she did feel the cart going, winding through twists and turns as they went deeper. It felt like a maze underneath this cave. How long was it?

  Her heart began beating harder. Was this it? Was this the end of her life? The cart came out into a chamber where brilliant light nearly seared her eyes blind. The whole room was made of glittering shiny stones reflecting light that came from a hole up above.

  “Up ye go,” Aunt Perse ordered, as she grabbed Magdalene by her arm and yanked her up. The gag was ripped away and instantly her first urge was to scream but she bit her lip to hold it in. Aunt Perse eyed her, “Sadly, we'll have to wait till tonight for the ritual to happen.”

  She found her voice, “I was warned, you know. I was warned that you were not the woman my mother and I thought we knew. I should have listened.”

  “But ye dinnae,” Aunt Perse crooned. “Much better for me, innit?”

  “Why did you change, Aunt?” Magdalene asked. “Why did you become so evil?”

  Her aunt’s face went sour and her eyes darkened. “When ye live a life where yer husband scorns ye day and night, takes women into yer home to have relations with right under yer nose and while bearing a child that dies in yer womb, then ye can tell me why.”

  Sorrow and pain waged with anger and betrayal in Magdalene’s heart. She could see old pain in her aunt’s eyes but that did not make up for the pure treachery of her aunt. “And you decided to become a witch to make up for it?”

  Perse scowled. “I dinnae have to explain more to ye. Just ken that by this time tomorrow, ye’ll be dead, I will be made young again, and yer mother will get a letter that ye died in the woods by ravenous wolves.”

  The damn in Magdalene’s heart broke, “I am your niece, Aunt Perse. Why are you doing this to anyone, much less me? My mother trusted you. She sent me here to be a daughter to you, not a sacrifice!”

  “Your mother was our father’s favorite and was spoiled to death,” Perse snapped. “He would have let her get away with murder while he tasked me with everything. Our mother did even intervene and defend me. I had to dine on salt while your mother suckled honey.”

  Magdalene was nearly at her wit's end, “I understand you had a hard life but this is not the way to solve it. Have you ever heard of rebirth by blood?”

  “It has been done,” Perse said stubbornly.

  “When?” Magdalene pressed, ignoring how her aunt’s face darkened.

  “I am telling ye it has been done,” Perse spat. “Now shut up or ye’ll force me hand and yer blood will be for naught.”

  Terror ran through Magdalene, then quieted as Perse—just Perse, not my Aunt, never again my aunt. True family does not do this to one another—began laying things out from a satchel she had carried. On a makeshift table, she laid out a vial, some herbs, and a wicked black iron dagger. Magdalene’s eyes drifted and she spotted a large wooden bathing tub right under the hole in the cave’s roof and her heart stuttered.

  Perse could not have carried that with her, so the only conclusion was that Perse had put it there beforehand. How long has she been planning this?

  “I am not a virgin, Perse,” Magdalene said, hoping the last arrow in her quiver would persuade this demented woman to let her go.

  “Ye lie,” Perse spat.

  “No,” Magdalene shook her head in heady desperation. “I am not a virgin. I gave myself to Angus.”

  “Stop lying to me,” Perse snapped. “The crystals would have shown me if ye were tainted.”

  “But—”

  Perse grabbed her and in her weakened state, Magdalene was not strong enough to fight back. The gag was shoved back into her mouth. “Stop yer nonsense, dinnae make this harder than it has to be.”

  St. Hild at Streanaeshalch Monastery

  “Lady Larie,” a man’s hushed voice came from behind her as she was standing on a bluff looking over the nearby loch. It was just after the dawn service and Larie tuned to see Brother Thomas coming to her.

  The ends of his dark black Benedictine tunic and scapular brushed the grass as he came forward. His cowl was down and his kind brown eyes held a smile. She could only hope for good news.r />
  “Yes, Brother Thomas?” she asked while shielding her face from the wind.

  His hands unfolded from his sleeves and in one was a scroll, rolled tightly with the King’s seal hanging from a parchment strip. He handed it to her. “His Majesty has replied, My Lady.”

  Relief washed through her much like the strong waves below her. She reached to take the letter, “Thank you for such a great sacrifice, Brother Thomas.”

  “My pleasure, My Lady,” he bowed. “I hope you will find closure when all this comes ahead.”

  “As do I,” she smiled and turned back towards the waterway as the monk walked off to the sound of the church bells.

  She broke the seal and read, “To Baroness Keswick. I have humbly received your beseeching plea with a disturbed disposition. I have convened my ministers and though we are appraised of the death of the Baron, and the appropriation of the Barony by Lord John Crompton, not one has been told of a search for the Baron’s killer.

  We were all made to believe the Baron died of natural causes and to be told he died of a poisoned fruit is very disturbing. I vow on my word to act and I promise before God, who shall judge my truth, that I will use my powers to fetter out the blackguard who had killed such a valiant member of this land.”

  The air in Larie’s chest released in relief. The King was not holding a grudge to his barons who had forced his hand to give them more power and had just promised to find who had killed her husband.

  “If you at any time would like to find refuge, my home is open to you. However, I understand that you are taking sanctuary with the Abbess of Hild, and the peace of a church is more optimal than the disorder of politics. I pledge to you that the option is still open. If you choose to do so I will give my permission. Please rest your trust in me to find this villain, My Lady Keswick. So humbly craving the continuance of your honorable favor in my strengths and, and th’ eternal provision of God’s mercies, I humbly take my leave.

  She flipped to the second sheet of paper that read:

  It is by decree of the King that the holder of this letter, Larie Crompton, Baroness of Keswick, if she chooses to seek asylum in any of my homes in Winchester, will be allowed all comfort and provisions as needed until the time she chooses to depart.

  His seal and signature ended the letter. Tears of gratitude sprung to her eyes. Soon she would have her answer and her husband would be avenged.

  Chapter 28

  A cave?

  Hours after following the disappearing trails of the cart over mountainous terrain, he came upon a row of caves and though the tracks were mussed, he saw faint lines that led to a large central one. He reined Titan in and surveyed the entrance. It looked like any other cave but he was not going to assume anything about it. The witch was there and he knew Magdalene was inside also because the deep grooves of the wheels from the cart in the loose dirt told him something heavy had been inside it.

  Looking around, he slid off the horse and fingered the hilt of his sword. His gauntlets were still on and the daggers Douglas had given him were slipped into his boots. The witch was going to die that day, by his hands, so help him God. He was going to look into her eyes and see the light die as her hell-bound soul left her.

  Striding in, he entered the cave and looked around. This was a typical cave, with the same dark rock and sandy floor that showed the grooves of the cartwheels clearly, but he still had to question, why had the witch chosen this cave? What was special about it? He looked around for any signs of devilish markings or carvings but saw none, the cave really was commonplace.

  But Magdalene was there so there was nothing commonplace about it. Taking the marks as the roadmap, Angus followed them and sank deeper and deeper into the cave. He could turn back and make a torch but time was slipping away too fast and he had to save Magdalene. It became so dark that the marks were obliterated from his sight and he had to crouch and feel along the fine silt to guide his way.

  His shins were burning after he had crouch-walked what felt like a mile in. He stood to temporarily relive the burn and as he walked just a few feet further, his foot tripped a line and something whistled past his ear, nicking his cheek in the process.

  The knife then clattered on the wall behind him, leaving in the cavern a hollow sound that echoed like a death knell. Angus’ senses immediately doubled in sharpness. This cave was a trap but Magdalene was inside so he had to persevere. This witch was not only deadly but canny, and had prepared for unwanted visitors.

  He knelt again and searched for the grooves and found them. Alert, he inched forward, sword out of the scabbard, raised, and eyes peering through the dark. He moved forward and paused a little as the ground under him felt unstable. He took one more step and the ground literally cracked. His sword plummeted to the chasm under him as he lurched forward and grabbed at the rim of the pit. A large clang and splash told him his sword had clattered to the bottom.

  Rancid air flew up from underneath him and his armored arms strained to get a good hold on the rock. His grip slipped and as he slid down his hands dug into the wall to get a hold. Pressing his cheek on the cold stone he breathed in deeply, trying to calm his racing heart.

  Magdalene… mo ghràdh needs me…

  Bracing his feet on the inside wall, he pushed and forced himself up in the stark darkness, grabbing at every piece of rock he could clamber up. On the ground he flipped on his back and dragged in some harsh panicky breaths. Damnation. His weapon was lost but thankfully he was still armed with the daggers in his boots. He could still kill.

  He stood and followed the trail once more but his faith was lost in it. Was this a false lead? Even so, he had no other choice but to follow it. If he had to go to the deepest depth or search the tiniest cranny, he was going to find Magdalene, kill the witch, and bring his love home.

  The trail led him to a fork in the cave’s pathway to which another set of tracks were laid, these, however, were less distinct and Angus felt he was right about having followed false tracks. He inched forward with his back pressed against the wall, with sweat dripping down his face. He kept following the trails that led him even deeper into the caves. Angus was a bit numb, he’d already cheated death twice, so what else could the witch try to kill him with?

  He came to a cavern where the horrible smell of rotten egg was seeping through the rocks. He touched the rock and it was grainy and porous which was how the foul smell was able to seep through it.

  “‘Tis limestone,” he murmured while crumbling a piece of the rock in his fingers. “Hmm.”

  Walking forward, he kept a hand on the wall and followed the sandy path as a glimmer of light was at the end. How was there light this deep down in the cave?

  Inching forward, he came to a wide stone opening where a wooden cart rested. He felt grim satisfaction knowing he was right about what had carried Magdalene there. He looked into the cavern and saw an image that made his blood run cold. In a room of crystals, Magdalene was over a wooden tub and adding herbs to it. An older woman, the witch, bent at the shoulders and grey-headed, was handing her more herbs.

  What in the name of God? Is Magdalene helping this woman? Have I been wrong about Magdalene?

  Suddenly disgusted, he called out, “Magdalene! God’s blood? Are ye helpin’ this witch? Because before the day ends, I will have to kill both of ye!”

  A missile was lobbed his way and fire exploded at his feet. Angus jumped away, in time for another missile to erupt on the wall behind him. Sparks flung into his eyes and temporarily blind, he skittered back, slipped, and slammed his head on the hard crystal wall. Stunned, his vision went black and he slumped to the floor.

  Through the ringing fog in his head, he heard cries of shock and outrage. In a herculean task, he blinked his heavy eyes open to see Magdalene, her gown ripped at the seams and halfway naked, bent over the tub and one of the witch’s hands on the back of her head and another one risen with a wicked black dagger in her hand. Magdalene was struggling but the dagger sliced her cheek open.
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  “Hold still,” the witch ordered. “Or yer eye will be next.”

  “How can I hold still?” Magdalene yelped. “You’re trying to kill me!”

  “For a good cause, so hold still!” the witch snapped as the dagger lifted and was about to descend with a killing strike.

  “Nae!” Angus shouted and he scrambled to his feet, lurching to the two. He grabbed the witch’s hand and yanked her back even as his head was spinning. He wrenched the dagger away, throwing the weapon far from them. “Ye dinnae get to harm her! Magdalene, run!”

  “I can’t,” she cried. “My arms and legs are bound!”

  The witch sneered as she tried to snatch her hand away, “Ye must be the Williamson, eh?”

  “Aye,” Angus said harshly. “And I’ve been hunting ye for the past three years now,” he leaned in and growled. “I will be yer judge, jury and executioner today. There’s nowhere to run, ye cannae escape justice.”