The Talisman (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 2)

by Gafford, Deborah

  She forced her leaden eyes open and looked around her. Several hours must have passed, for the full moon was now high in the sky and its silvery light made her surroundings easily visible. The sight of the ground surging up close to her face, like an ocean wave rushing to meet her, left her lightheaded and nauseous. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her mind and stomach. Perhaps 'twas all a horrible dream.

  After a moment, she tried again. Slowly, she opened one eye and then the other and peered around her as best she could over the edge of the bunched up blue shawl.

  Sweet Mary.

  She was lying on her stomach face down across the back of a horse. A stabbing pain radiated up her spine leaving her shaking and breathless. With each jolt of the animal's movements, the blinding throb in her head threatened to send her back into unconsciousness. She did not fight the agonizing motion, but rather tried to ease her pain by merely breathing slowly, matching the cadence of the horse.

  Her face was only three feet from the rocky ground. Dust flew in her eyes and nose and dizziness threatened to overcome her again as an upside down world raced by. She tried to push herself up from the horse's heaving side, but found that she was wedged against the rider and her hands were tied. Fear shot through her.

  The horse stumbled over rocky ground sending ripples of agony through her body and she cried out in pain.

  "So, ye are finally awake." A gruff voice spoke from above her. "I thought mayhap I hit ye too hard. Dinna fash, we will soon be done ridin'. Then I will take good care of ye, Meggie." For a moment, a hand stroked her back in a caress.

  Ailis cringed from his touch and fought back her panic. With the shawl covering her face in the dark of the stable, Domhnull had abducted her, thinking she was Megan.

  But why would he wish to kidnap Meggie? He must be insane to act in such a way.

  Dear God, what would he do when he discovered she was not his intended captive?

  She closed her eyes again and went limp against the horse's back, trying to ease the ache in her ribs and the sharp pounding in her head. When she looked again, the rocky ground beneath her had changed to grass. They were somewhere near water. Its rippling sound was easy to distinguish.

  She strained to lift her head up enough to see some distance from her, but the effort was too great. She gave in to the pain and weariness and let her head dangle, bumping and rubbing against the horse's heaving side. For the second time that night she was grateful for the shawl she wore since it protected her face from being rubbed raw by the horse's rough hide.

  Suddenly, the horse trotted quickly down a steep slope slamming her head against its heaving side. A stabbing pain shot through her and she lost consciousness.

  The next time she saw the ground, 'twas barely lit by early dawn. She was no longer being bounced up and down on the horse. It stood still as if it waited for its rider to dismount.

  The saddle creaked under Murdoch's heavy weight as he swung his right leg over her and dismounted. The only part of him that Ailis could see was the lower portion of a dirty, tattered kilt and two thick hairy legs, scarred with pockmarks. His feet were planted wide apart and covered by dirt-encrusted boots.

  Ailis knew he would pull her off next and painfully turned her head toward the horse, letting the shawl hide her features. If she could keep her identity a secret for a while longer and act too weak to get away, perhaps she might better her chances of escape.

  Murdoch put his hands around her arms and pulled her toward him, across the back of the horse. Her plan to appear too weak to escape worked all too well. The moment her feet touched the ground, her legs gave way and she slumped forward, her face buried against the man's reeking chest. Grunting, he dragged her to a small cottage a few yards away, then dragged her across the dirt floor and let go of her over a crudely built bed.

  She dropped like a millstone, facedown onto the rough bed. She lay there, unmoving, frozen with pain and fear.

  Ailis heard him move something about, then the sounds of striking flint and soon heard the crackle of a fire. She froze in fear as she heard him approach. He shook her shoulder but she did not respond.

  The man cursed to himself and walked back outside. Although he had closed the door, she could hear him speak roughly to his horse. Within moments, the sound of its hooves faded in the distance.

  Frantically, she tried to rise from the bed and swing her feet to the floor with the little strength she still possessed.

  She could not even roll over.

  Tears of fear, frustration and pain ran down her face and soaked into the filthy straw mattress.

  Why had Domhnull Murdoch done this? He was supposed to be a trusted friend of the MacPhersons. At least until he had accosted her in the alehouse and Gavin had forbidden him to return. But why would he wish to abduct Meggie?

  Sweet Mary, what would he do to her when he realized his mistake? Fear of him threatened to steal her wits.

  For a moment, she forced herself to ignore her fright, closed her eyes and thought of her family. Together, they had always been strong. How many times as a young girl had she heard her mother say, "Dinna ye be forgettin', Ailis. We O'Briens are a hardy lot. We always get by."

  The memory helped to slow her tears and gave her hope. She would survive this. Aye, if she thought hard enough, she would think of a way to escape.

  Ailis turned her face away from the bed's wet, reeking straw and tried to concentrate, but after a few minutes, weariness overcame her and she drifted off to sleep.

  #

  Domhnull rode further from the hut, a grim smile on his lips. He had done it. Meggie had fallen for his ruse as surely as a rabbit ensnared in a trap.

  In truth, he was surprised she had come to the stable. When he heard she was to be betrothed at the MacPherson feast, he thought he would have to sneak into the castle an' steal her away. Mayhap she was nay so pleased wi' betrothin' herself to that bloody fool after all. Aye, compared to him, both Calum an' Gavin were poor excuses for men.

  Well, he had her now. An' he meant to keep her. 'Twas a shame he had hit her so hard. The weak kneed lass had fainted and damned if he hadn't had to drag her into his hut and then start a fire for warmth. The bloody hut had always been too cold for his liking. But then, once he had Meggie beneath him, he would ne'er feel the cold. Aye, he would soon enjoy the warmth of her body an' nay bloody MacPherson would stop him.

  Once the fire was burning, he had walked over to the cot and shaken her shoulder expecting her to rouse and try to fight him off. But she had fainted again. He could have taken her then but 'twould nay be as satisfyin' as feelin' her fightin' beneath him.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the hut disappearing in the distance. Aye, damn it, he would wait a while yet. Turning back in his saddle, he slapped the reins against his horse's side. When it did not move fast enough to suit him, he viciously kicked it in the ribs. "Move, damn ye. I need to ken if we were followed."

  For several minutes, he rode further from the cottage until he found a sheltered spot under a large outcrop of rock. He dismounted, tied his horse's reins to a tree limb, then sat in the shade and surveyed the countryside. The glen lay open and empty and naught stirred on the path of the slope before him.

  Aye, just as he thought. It had been easy to steal Meggie away from them. They did not have the cunning for such a deed.

  An' now they would ne'er find her.

  No one kenned of the run down cottage where he had lived as a lad. Logan had been there once, but it nay mattered. He was dead. He would nay tell his bloody brother aught.

  Domhnull spat on the ground. The bloody MacPhersons thought they were far better than him. They had only pretended to like him all those years, lettin' him train wi' Logan an' join in their clan activities. It had only been a game to them. He could see that now. They deserved to be punished. He would show them. He would show them all.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gavin looked at the talisman in his hand. He didn't have the heart to speak with Ail
is now. After he finished talking with the shepherd and Gordie, he would send someone to tell her he would speak with her soon.

  His head jerked toward the doorway at the sound of a knock. He quickly crossed the room and opened the door. Gordie stood beside a thin older man in a worn plaid. The shepherd's skin was tanned and wrinkled like old leather. His eyes looked anxious and he clutched his tam in a tight fist.

  Gavin motioned for the men to enter and closed the door before he spoke. "My man tells me you are the one who found my brother's body."

  "Aye, m'laird. I… I didna ken 'twere him at the time, only that he wore the MacPherson plaid. I took him to me croft an' me wife cleaned him an' laid him out proper. 'Tis when she found the talisman. She said 'twas too fine a thing fer ary Scot villager an' bid me bring it here."

  "Thank you for your care of my brother. Gordie told–" Gavin's voice broke. He could not speak the words. He stood silently for a moment, Logan's talisman clutched tightly in his hand. Then he cleared his throat and forced the words from his lips. "He told me my brother was stabbed in the back… with his own dirk."

  The shepherd's eyes widened in shock. "Bloody damn! Oh, beggin' yer pardon. I didna ken 'twas his own knife. I only brought it wi' the talisman as me wife bid."

  "Did you see anyone or hear aught that might help me learn who did this?"

  "Nay. I was herdin' me flock an' went after a stragglin' sheep when I came across a burned wagon. I near soiled meself when I saw bones o' two people in it an' yer brother's body on the ground beside it." The shepherd quickly crossed himself. "'Twas' work o' the devil, I say."

  "Aye, a devil. But a mortal one, I vow. My brother must have discovered the killer and died for what he learned." Gavin reached in his sporran, withdrew several silver coins and handed them to the shepherd. "Thank you again for your care of my brother and bringing me his talisman and dirk. Gordie will see that you are fed and taken back to your cottage. I will come in the morn with a few men to bring my brother home."

  "I didna do it fer payment, m'laird."

  "Take it. My brother would wish you to have it."

  The shepherd hesitated and then nodded. "Aye, thank ye. I'll be on me way then. Me wife will be that worried if I dinna return soon."

  Gavin nodded and turned to Gordie. "See that he is given food then have Calum escort him back to his home. Tell him to note the way so we will find it easily in the morn, but tell no one else."

  "Aye."

  "After that, go to the great hall, and if Ailis is still there, tell her… tell her I will speak with her another time."

  After the two men left, Gavin laid the dirk on a table and stared at the talisman. He rubbed the silver disk between his fingers remembering the day his sire had presented them to Megan and Logan. They had been so proud of them. Logan had worn his dangling from its chain on the outside of his shirt for weeks claiming it pulled the manly hair on his chest.

  A bittersweet smile crossed Gavin's lips as he recalled teasing his brother that he had nay enough hair on his chest for it to do so. With an aching heart, he bent his head and slipped the talisman's chain around his neck and tucked it inside his shirt next to his own.

  Then, drawing a deep breath, he slowly picked up Logan's dirk and gazed down at the deadly blade. No Scotsman was ever without his dirk. How was it that the murderer was able to use it against Logan? Had he laid it down and the murderer grabbed it before his brother knew of the danger?

  Sorrowfully, Gavin walked over to the fireplace and sank to the bench before the hearth. The bright orange and yellow flames reflected in eerie fashion on the steel blade giving the appearance of a coppery coating glistening over the metal. The color reminded him too closely of blood and the emptiness his brother's death had carved in his heart.

  Turning the knife so that the blade's single razor-sharp edge lay across his open palm, Gavin slowly closed his fingers into a tight fist. He squeezed tighter and tighter until he felt the sharp sting of the blade slice his palm. As a thin trickle of blood dripped from between his clenched fingers, he pulled Logan's talisman from his shirt with his other hand. "I vow, brother, I will not rest until I have avenged you."

  He let the talisman slide through his fingers and drop to his chest. Then he raised Logan's dirk above his head and plunged it deep into the bench. With a moan of anguish, he covered his face with his hands. His tears mingling with his blood, coursed in a red stream down his face.

  His grief left him aching with a pain far greater than the throbbing of his hand. God, he needed to talk with someone, to vent his anger and sorrow. But who? Meggie must not be told on her betrothal night. That would be too cruel. He did not wish to frighten Ailis or remind her of her own loss, and Calum would not return for some time.

  'Twould seem he would have to bear it alone.

  Wearily, he tore a piece from the end of his tartan sash and wrapped it around his hand. He stood, glanced down at the bloody dirk embedded in the bench then turned and left the room without looking back. He would go to the solar. 'Twas no need to go to his chamber for he would not sleep.

  After stirring up the embers in the fireplace and adding more wood, he sat and stared into the dancing flames, remembering happier times in the past with his family. Now all he had was Meggie. And Ailis.

  Several hours later, he looked up as Calum entered. For once, his cheerful cousin had no jovial words for him. "Did you see him?"

  Calum walked over and warmed his hands at the fire. He nodded with a deep "Aye. The shepherd's wife prepared him well. He looked at peace." Calum swallowed visibly and turned to face Gavin, a look of sorrow on his normally smiling face. "I am sorry Gavin. Perhaps my argument with him–"

  "No. You had naught to do with his death. Do not blame yourself. I am the one who sent him away in anger to work the herds, to learn responsibility. To… to learn to be a man." Gavin's throat tightened and he drew a shaky breath. "I saw him when I went to check the herds. He had done well, learning all that he could. We spoke of the feast. He was eager to return and celebrate with us. Perhaps he learned aught there that led him to the site of Ailis' murdered family."

  Calum walked over and laid his hand on Gavin's shoulder. "Ye are no more to blame than I. Do ye think his murderer is the same one that slew Ailis' kin?"

  "'Twould seem they are connected in some way since Logan met his death at the same place."

  Calum nodded. "We will find him, cousin. Dinna doubt it."

  "Aye. But it will not bring Logan and the others back."

  "Nay, but their souls will rest easy once their deaths have been avenged and 'twill give us peace to go on."

  Gavin nodded. The burning lump in his throat made it difficult to speak. "I will gather a few men and meet you by the stable at dawn. Have… have the wagon ready."

  "Aye. Do ye wish me to stay… to talk?"

  "No, 'twill be dawn in a few hours. Go find your rest. I will see you then."

  "Aye."

  Gavin stared into the fire through the rest of the night in heart broken silence. The heat of the blaze warmed his skin but did nothing for the cold heaviness in his heart.

  Just before dawn, he rose and woke three of his clansmen, saying only that he needed them to accompany him. He went to the stock pen inside the courtyard and picked out the best ram and ewe there. One of the men helped him bind their legs and load them in the large ox drawn wagon Calum had brought to the front of the keep.

  Grim-faced and silent, Gavin mounted his horse and waited as the other men did the same. He would tell them the purpose for their journey after they were well outside the castle gates. He wanted no word of Logan's death to reach Meggie when he was not there to share in her sorrow. Thank God his sister had Calum. She would need him.

  Bitter pain burned in Gavin's chest. He nodded to Calum, then he and his men slowly followed the wagon through the gates. The tall-sided wagon rattled along ahead of them, kicking up dust from the ruts in the dry road. Gavin and his men rode several feet behind it to avoid the
throat clogging dirt. Due to the wagon's plodding pace, the ride took several hours.

  They stopped only once to briefly water their horses. 'Twas then that he told the men of the grim purpose for their ride. To a man, they stood in shocked silence for a moment before vowing to avenge Logan's death with their last breaths.

  Gavin nodded, his voice gruff with emotion. "Aye, Logan and Ailis' family will be avenged, but I pray no more MacPherson blood will be spilled. Mount up. We have several leagues yet to travel."

  For Gavin, the journey seemed to end all too soon when they arrived at the shepherd's home. Though he knew in his heart it was futile, until they actually reached the small cottage, he hoped somehow the gruesome tale was not true. Once they arrived and he saw the small bit of black cloth tacked above the doorway, he knew there was no hope; his brother was dead.

  The shepherd and his wife were simple folk. They solemnly welcomed him into their meager home and led him over to Logan's body as Calum and his men waited outside.

  The woman had washed Logan and wrapped him in his tartan. He lay stretched out on a rough board across two crude chairs; the only ones in the cottage. Smoky tallow candles were lit near his head and feet to aid the peasants in watching over his body lest demons or witches came to steal his soul. Large lumps of greasy tallow proved others had been burned throughout the night.

  Logan's sword was not there but a crude iron dirk lay across his chest to ward off the black faerie's evil spells. His sporran lay beside him, next to two small, crudely sewn cloth sacks and a small clay vessel.

  The woman of the house bent over him with a piece of cloth and dabbed a few drops of the vessel's contents on Logan's motionless gray face. She obviously had done it several times throughout the previous night as a vigil to safeguard his spirit.

  Looking up at Gavin she said, "'Tis holy water, m'laird, blessed by a priest last Michaelmas."

  Gavin's shoulders slumped as his grief took hold. Never again would he ride and hunt with his brother as they loved to do. He would not laugh at his bragging or wrestle with him to prove who was stronger. He… God,… Logan would never know the joy of a family of his own.