Marti Talbott's Highlander Series, Volume 5

by Marti Talbott

  With all of them finally back in their places and the baby content to be on her back on the table playing with her toes, they ate in silence for a while before Neil directed his question to Thomas. “Tell me more about Laird Cameron.”

  Thomas quickly took a sip of wine to wash down his food. “There are words to describe a lad like that, but I dare not say them in front of the lasses. He is...”

  “Stupid,” Julia interrupted. “He ordered new shoes, did not approve of the sewing and killed the cobbler. ‘Twas the only cobbler we had!”

  Glenna nearly spilled her wine when she started to laugh.

  Julia continued, “Laird Cameron suffers terrible nightmares, convinced the MacGreagor ghost is coming to kill him. He heard about the one that did in The Ferguson and he has not had a peaceful night since.”

  “Nor have we,” Catlin muttered.

  “She is right,” admitted Julia. ”He drinks so he can sleep, then he is belligerent, loud and unthinkably cruel. It was all we lasses could do to stay clear of him.”

  Neil pushed his bowl away. “Then I am even more pleased you have come to us.”

  “Is it true the MacGreagor will kill any lad who hurts a lass?” Catlin asked.

  “Aye, it is true.”

  Glenna checked to see that Justin was eating and then curled her little finger so the baby could chew on her knuckle. “Our lads are too strong and it does not take much for a lad to hurt a lass or a child. It is an old family edict and I highly approve. I would that more clans had the edict.”

  An odd silence followed and Neil wondered if there was something they were not telling, but he dismissed the thought. “Did you happen to go to the MacGreagor hold before you came?”

  “Have you not heard it is haunted?” Seated between his sister and Catlin, Thomas mischievously grinned, took another bite and then pushed his bowl away. “However, I did lay flowers on the graves of your parents. It was my mother’s final wish.”

  Julia glared at her brother. “That was not her final wish. Her dying wish was for you to marry; though she did not hold out much hope any lass would have you.”

  “That is strange, she told me to marry you off as quickly as I could and to use bribery if need be.”

  Catlin rolled her eyes. “They carry on this way incessantly. The poor lass must have lingered for weeks before she got all her final wishes said.”

  “Nay,” argued Thomas, “She simply spoke very quickly. And just now I am reminded. Do the MacGreagors have a cobbler? I was learning that trade when our cobbler met his untimely demise.”

  Julia again glared at her brother. “Because you tied the threads on the inside of Laird Cameron’s shoes, instead of the outside where they would not hurt.”

  “Sister, are you implying I am somehow at fault?”

  “Nay, I am boldly accusing you of intentionally trying to raise the Cameron’s ire.”

  Thomas puffed his cheeks and noticed everyone was waiting for his answer. “Very well then, I am caught. But how was I to know Laird Cameron would kill our only cobber over such a trifling thing?”

  For another hour they talked and laughed. But as the women grew wearier, Glenna reminded her husband they needed rest and then she took all three of their guests to the beds the servers had prepared in two of the cottages.

  When she came back, Neil and Walrick were talking and to her surprise, Neil was not smiling. As soon as she took her seat at the table, Neil covered her hand with his. “Catlin is Charlet’s daughter.”

  Glenna slowly closed her eyes. “Does she understand how much danger she is in?”

  “She does now. Before today, she did not know her mother was Charlet. Her parents are dead and there are no other children.”

  Glenna helped herself to more wine. “We should spread the word that Charlet is dead so the English will stop looking for her.”

  “Aye, but how do we do it without the rumor leading back to us?”

  CHAPTER IV

  THE LITTLE COTTAGE Glenna took Catlin and Julia to was clean and held a bowl of fresh flowers floating in water on the table, a clan tradition of sorts. Julia was so tired she quickly collapsed into the nearest bed and went right to sleep.

  Catlin spread a plaid over her and then walked to the other bed. Next to it, a candle on a small table gave off the sweet smell of honey. She turned down the covers, unbuckled her belt and caught her MacGreagor plaid before it fell to the floor. Carefully, she folded it, laid it and her belt across the back of a chair and climbed into bed wearing only her long shirt.

  She scooted down, covered herself and rested her head on her arm, but as exhausted as she was, her eyes remained wide open - Catlin Cameron MacGreagor was in line to inherit the throne of England. It was a thought she could not manage to fully grasp.

  THE NEXT MORNING, NEIL took Thomas to see the cobbler and then took Julia to meet some of the young women her age. Once they were distracted, he asked Catlin to walk with him and soon they were joined by Glenna and Walrick.

  Neil found a clean area, spread the plaid he brought with him on the grass and helped Glenna sit while Walrick helped Catlin. Then the men crossed their feet at the ankle and sat down. Their usual guards were there but too far away to hear.

  Neil pulled a blade of grass out of the meadow and examined it. “Catlin, Walrick is my second and he remembers your mother. He is here to help you. Glenna is my wife from whom I have no secrets.

  “I see.” She looked at Glenna, at Walrick and then at Neil, “When I was growing up, there were rumors that Bridget was not my mother’s true name, but I believed none of it and never was the name ‘Charlet’ mentioned. How could my mother be English? She said Scotland was the only home she had ever known.”

  “Your mother was but a few days old when the king asked my father to hide her. Father let the clan believe she had been abandoned, gave her the name Charlet and she happily grew up among the MacGreagors. Then one day, the cottage she shared with the man and lass who cared for her caught fire. They died and she survived. Not long after, father got word an Englishman wanted her hand in marriage.”

  “Did she know this Englishman?” Catlin asked.

  “She had never laid eyes on any Englishman and my father grew immediately suspicious. To keep her safe, he asked Blair Cameron to hide her. At the time, your mother knew nothing more than my father did - she was English not Scottish and she was in danger. By the time it was safe enough for her to come home, mother had spoken to the king, learned Charlet was his niece and first in line to inherit the crown. It was the king’s nephew who tried to kill her, for which he was executed.”

  “But she did not become queen.”

  “Nay, by then your mother loved your father too much to leave him.”

  Catlin’s mouth dropped. “She turned down the throne of England?”

  Neil was surprised by her reaction. “Have you any doubt she loved your father that much?”

  “I could never love a lad that much.”

  Glenna smiled and patted Catlin’s hand. “I said the same at your age. But when...”

  Catlin ignored her. “Is the present king in line before or behind my mother?”

  Still caught off guard, Neil tried to read what Catlin was thinking. Slowly, he answered, “I dare say he is behind or he would not be looking for her.”

  “And the English want her to be queen?”

  “Some do.”

  Catlin was becoming angry and she did not know exactly why. To stall for time, she ran her fingers through the sides of her long auburn hair. “And now that she is dead, am I before or after this new king in lineage?”

  “I do not know.” A thousand thoughts were running through Neil’s mind. A Scot becoming the Queen of England opened a lot of good possibilities. Catlin hiding among the MacGreagor Clan opened a lot of dangerous possibilities too. “There might be a way to find out, if it becomes important.”

  “It is important to me.”

  “Why?”

  Catlin was not rea
dy to speak her thoughts and decided instead to dismiss the subject. “You are right, Laird MacGreagor. It does not really matter.”

  Neil was not fooled. “I am concerned you do not clearly see the danger. Without careful thought you could bring the whole of England down upon us.”

  Catlin got to her knees, accepted Walrick’s help and stood up. “I am not as simple minded as you assume.” With that...and without anyone’s permission, she turned and walked away.

  Glenna started to call after her but Neil grabbed her hand. “Let her go.”

  CURED OF THE INCESSANT stomachaches he had as a newborn, Jessup’s son was sleeping peacefully when Glenna, Neil and Walrick came to visit. She invited them to sit down and then offered each a goblet of water or wine. The men declined and remained standing, but Glenna accepted a chair and the wine.

  “Have you ever heard the name, Charlet?” Neil asked.

  Jessup’s eyes lit up. “Ah, you have come to talk of ghosts and fables. I am enthralled.”

  “Then you have heard of her?”

  “In a manner of speaking. She is illusive and the last I heard only a few have ever seen her. She has red hair, or so they report, and she was once first in line to the throne. But she disappeared and I think someone did her in years ago.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because she never again was seen. My beloved king Richard asked that she be found after he took the throne, but nothing ever came of it ... at least not that he told me. I dearly wish we did know where she is. Charlet is possibly our only hope of getting the throne out of the hands of the wretched George of Leics.”

  “What if Charlet died, but had a child before she passed. What say you about that?” Neil asked.

  Jessup slowly turned to look into Neil’s eyes. “Which one?”

  “Which one what?”

  “Which of the three Camerons is Charlet’s child? Wait; if Thomas and Julia are your cousins, then it must be Catlin. Of course it is Catlin; I should have guessed by the way she holds herself.” Jessup could hardly contain her excitement, stood up and clapped her hands. “She is royalty, Neil. She belongs to England and England needs her.”

  “Jessup, do you not see the complications? We are Scots and we cannot march into England even if Scotland might be the better for it.”

  “Of course not. On the other hand, once they get wind that she is here we will have the English marching up our glen wanting to kill her.”

  “They will not get wind of it.”

  “Not as long as they think Charlet is still alive. Once they know she is not, they will search for her children.”

  Neil hung his head. “I had not thought of that.”

  The whole time, Walrick stood with his hands behind his back listening. “Perhaps we could start a rumor that Charlet boarded a ship bound for France several years ago.”

  Jessup smiled. “I doubt George has neglected to look for her there already. Nay, you best not start any rumors at all. Let the other clans think you have no interest in the subject.” She turned her attention back to Neil. “Does Catlin know?”

  “She does now and I was not pleased with her reaction. I believe her thinking matches yours on the subject, although she sees it in a different light than that of freeing her countrymen from an unrighteous king.”

  Glenna rolled her eyes, “You mean she covets the crown for her own gain? You cannot know that.”

  “I do not care in what light she sees it,” Jessup said, retaking her seat. “George of Leics is a liar and a murderer. I will be more than pleased if Catlin can manage to dethrone him no matter her intentions.”

  Glenna reached across the table and took hold of her friend’s hand. “Before we decide her future we should get to know her better. Perhaps she wants to be queen, and perhaps she wants no part of the English.”

  “She is right,” said Walrick. ‘What daughter of Scotland would want to be English? It is unthinkable.”

  CHAPTER V

  SHE WANTED TO MOUNT her horse, race away and feel the wind in her hair. But she had no idea where her horse was. Instead, Catlin continued to walk down the glen. At first, she walked quickly to release her anger. Her thoughts were in turmoil and her questions had no easy answers.

  It appeared to be true her mother was English and set to inherit the throne. It was also true Charlet declined so she could marry Catlin’s father. Catlin still could not see how any man could be that important, but alas, that was her mother’s decision.

  She realized the truth greatly enlightened her as to her upbringing. Often she thought her parents ridiculously overprotective and was angry when they prohibited certain events. Now she was sorry for her anger and wished she could take back some of the words she said. It was useless to dwell on that too and she quickly set it aside.

  Catlin took a deep breath, slowed her pace, and tried again to assess the situation. Did she or did she not want to claim the throne of England? The question was too monumental and she regretted with all her heart that her mother was not there to answer her questions. She regretted it so much she was about to cry.

  Suddenly, she realized a man was walking behind her and she caught her breath. She stopped and quickly turned around. It was only the man she cut...who, no doubt, was expecting an apology. His timing could not be worse and she had no desire to deal with him at the moment, so she glared hoping he would go away. “I prefer to walk alone.”

  Vallam rolled his eyes. “I prefer to let you but our laird disagrees. MacGreagor women are not allowed to leave the village alone.”

  “I am not...” she started to say she was not a MacGreagor, but realized that was no longer true. “I am not leaving the village.”

  “Unfortunately for me.”

  Her glare grew hotter and for a moment, she forgot her intention not to deal with him just now. She was about to chastise him when she abruptly changed her mind. She might as well get this over with. “I am sorry I hurt you.”

  “You do not look sorry nor did you look sorry yesterday. In fact, you look quite pleased with yourself.”

  Frustrated, Catlin turned her back to him and walked away. “You are refusing to accept my apology? Very well then.”

  Vallam was no more interested in discussing the situation than she was, but Neil saw him watching Catlin head down the glen and nodded for him to guard her. He would rather be doing a thousand other things and he was hardly fit to protect her with his arm hurt, but until someone came to relieve him, he was stuck. As he had been for what seemed hours, he continued to follow her.

  Vallam spent half the night thinking about her green eyes and wondering if he was mad at her for hurting him or mad at himself for letting her. The truth be told, he did not even hear her approach and it was not until she reached through the bush and tried to steal the bird he just finished cleaning, that he realized she was there. Had it been a man’s hand, he might have reacted differently, but the delicate long fingers were definitely those of a woman and in the blink of an eye, he grabbed her hand. Just as quickly, she cut him. He grabbed her other hand, pulled her out of the bush and should have suspected what she might do next, but she was far too quick and before he could stand back she shoved her knee hard into his groin. The pain was excruciating and he had no choice but to let go and double over.

  That he let a woman hurt him was unbearably humiliating and he waited until dark hoping not to have to explain. He intended to slip into his cottage and forgo the stitching, but Walrick spotted the blood and insisted. What a shock to find Catlin a guest at the table of his laird. “Thank you.”

  Catlin stopped and turned to stare at him. “For what?”

  “For not telling Neil I let you get the better of me.”

  “I am many things, but I do not delight in making others appear witless. Now if you will please not interrupt me further, I have a great deal to think about.”

  Her attitude was unpleasant, her glare irritating, her manners inexcusable and he could not help but return her foul expr
ession. He slightly nodded and silently vowed never to speak to her again. A few minutes later she again turned around, but this time it was not to talk to him. She passed by without so much as a glance, headed back toward the village and did not let him see those fascinating green eyes.

  Catlin was not even thinking about the man following her. What she desperately wanted – what she actually came here for was help with an altogether different problem. The throne of England offered her a magnificent way to exact the revenge she sought, but then what? She did not want to be the Queen of England, not really. In fact, just like her mother she had never even seen an Englishman. If Neil refused to help with her other problem, she would be better off going to Scotland’s king.

  Her head was starting to hurt and when she noticed Julia hurrying toward her, she welcomed the diversion.

  By the time she arrived, Julia was nearly out of breath. “Did you ask Neil? Has he agreed to help us?”

  Catlin glanced back at Vallam and lowered her voice. “You must not speak so loudly.”

  Julia paused a moment to calm her breathing. “I saw you talking to Neil and thought...”

  “Nay, I did not ask him.”

  “Oh. I suppose it is too soon, but I do so want to see the look on Lammond’s face when we kill him.”

  “So do I, but Thomas is right. We must give the MacGreagors time to know and trust us before we ask. Come, there is a chill in the air and we must go inside.” She glanced back just in time to see Vallam holding his forearm and felt a twinge of regret. She turned, walked to him and smiled, which seemed to lessen his scowl a bit. “May I see the wound?”

  Her sudden change in attitude confused him and he did not trust her. “Why?”

  “I wish to see if the stitches held well enough.”

  He reluctantly nodded. She tried to push his sleeve up, but the cloth caught on the stitches so he let down the strip of cloth over his shoulder and took that side of his shirt off. Then he glanced at Julia’s refusal to look and was amused. “It is not bleeding.”