The Forbidden Highlands

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Just then, Graeme made out a flicker of red through the dense green trees. He slowed the horse and approached cautiously.

  The Abbey of Dolce Cor—or what the Lowlanders called Sweetheart Abbey—emerged from the foliage. Its soaring tower, columns, and long nave were all built with the same red sandstone, making its name even more fitting. Graeme had never seen it before, but he now understood why the magnificent abbey would be considered fit for a Laird’s wedding.

  Several white-cowled monks worked in the garden surrounding the abbey. They looked up, wiping sweat from their brows, as Graeme and Anna approached.

  Graeme dismounted and tethered the horse, then helped Anna down.

  “Still have the missives?” he asked.

  She patted the bodice of her dress where she’d tucked away the letters, then gave him a nod.

  “Ready?”

  “Aye,” she said, her wide blue eyes sure and steady.

  He took her hand and walked toward the abbey, ignoring the curious stares of the monks.

  When they reached the high, arching doorway, Graeme pulled open the wooden door and stepped inside with Anna.

  “Can I help ye with something, my son?” A priest glided down the nave toward them. He wore the same white cowl that the others had over his simple brown habit, and his tonsured head was bowed slightly toward them.

  “Aye, Father,” Graeme said, but then he faltered. How could he explain everything that had happened in the last few months—let alone the last few days?

  “We are here to be married,” Anna said, straightening beside him. Graeme couldn’t help but smile at her pluck.

  “Ah,” the priest said, a knowing look coming into his warm brown eyes. “I understand ye must be eager, young as ye are, to begin yer life as man and wife, but we must read the banns first to ensure that no one can object. There is a proper way to do things, and—”

  “Nay, Father,” Graeme cut in. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

  As Graeme began to explain, Anna removed the two missives from her bodice and held them out to the priest. The priest listened, his gray-brown brows drawing tighter and tighter together as Anna and Graeme described their unusual engagement, Anna’s arranged marriage, and their present urgency to not only confirm that their engagement took precedence, but that they could be married swiftly to ensure that their union could not be challenged.

  When they came to the end of their tale, the priest looked up from the missives and fixed them with a matter-of-fact look.

  “Have ye…ah…indulged in the Godly union of yer bodies?”

  Graeme blinked. He glanced at Anna, who was turning redder than the sandstones surrounding them.

  “Nay, Father,” she squeaked. “We havenae.” She darted a glance at Graeme. “We had always planned to wait until our union could be made official.”

  The priest frowned. “That is unfortunate.”

  “Beg yer pardon, Father?” Graeme choked out.

  Now it was the priest’s turn to redden. “Ye see, it is far easier for the church to recognize these…er…unconventional betrothals when more than one condition is met. Each of ye agreeing to marry and pledging yerselves to each other is one such condition.” He held up the missives. “Which ye’ve met—in writing, no less. Another would be to…ahem…seal the union physically. Since ye havenae done that, it may make things more difficult.”

  The priest cleared his throat, visibly attempting to regain some of his pious composure.

  “I do think there is a chance that this engagement could stand, however,” he went on. “If it did, it would void yer later engagement, child,” he said, turning to Anna.

  “Then ye can wed us now, Father,” Graeme urged.

  The priest held up a staying hand. “No’ quite, my son. Since this engagement was formed in secret, the banns must be read so that it can be made public. All will go far smoother in the long run if any objections are brought forth before ye are wed.”

  “But we have already been engaged for two months according to the dates on the missives,” Anna offered. “Doesnae that count for something?”

  “I’m sorry, my children,” the priest replied. “But as I said, there is a proper way to go about this, and I must follow that course.”

  Graeme clenched his teeth in frustration, trying to smother his rising anxiety. “I dinnae think I was clear on just how urgent this is,” he said, fighting to keep his tone in check. “Ye see, the lass’s fiancé could arrive at any—”

  “Halt!”

  The abbey’s wooden doors banged against the stone walls and sunlight flooded in.

  Jerome stood silhouetted in the arched doorway.

  And beside him strode a graying man wearing Munro colors who could be none other than—

  “I am Laird Munro,” the man boomed. “And I demand ye unhand my bride.”

  Chapter Ten

  Anna stared in horror as Laird Donald Munro and Jerome marched down the nave toward them. In the doorway behind the Laird and his commander, Anna could see more than two dozen armed Munro warriors.

  They could not flee from this, and they certainly couldn’t fight their way out.

  But as Laird Munro and Jerome closed the distance between themselves and Graeme, Anna knew she had to do something.

  Laird Munro was clearly furious. His graying hair flew wildly from its queue, and his dark eyes blazed with fury. But Anna knew him to be a collected, fair, and honorable man under less chaotic circumstances. He would not hurt her.

  However, she could not be sure that the Laird’s equity would extend to Graeme at the moment.

  Without thinking, Anna stepped in front of Graeme, shielding his body from Laird Munro and Jerome with her own.

  “Step aside, Lady Anna,” Jerome growled, reaching for the sword at his hip. “Else ye be harmed by this kidnapping scoundrel of a MacKay again.”

  “Anna, nay,” Graeme said, ignoring Jerome as he tried to move around her.

  Anna planted a hand in the middle of Graeme’s chest to stay him, even though she knew he could easily lift her out of the way if he chose.

  “Hold there!” the priest shouted frantically, waving both hands. He, too, stepped between Graeme and the two approaching Munros. “This is a holy house! Ye will no’ shed blood here, let alone draw weapons or speak such words of aggression!”

  “He didnae kidnap me,” Anna said, facing Jerome. “And he is no’ a scoundrel—he is my betrothed.”

  “What the bloody hell is going on here?” Laird Munro demanded, coming to a halt. He turned to the priest. “My apologies, Father, but I will have answers, and I will have them now.”

  Anna dragged in a breath to explain everything, but before she could speak, Jerome launched in, his hard gaze fixed on Graeme.

  “When ye two didnae return after the attack by those bandits, I kenned my suspicions had been right all along,” he said. “Ye wanted my Laird’s intended for yerself, MacKay.”

  “How did ye find us?” Graeme ground out behind her.

  “When we picked up yer trail headed southward, I figured ye’d come here. I didnae miss the way ye took particular notice of the name of the abbey where my Laird was to wed Lady Anna,” Jerome shot back, his eyes filled with dark fury. “Besides, I ken ye’ve spent time in Lochmaben. I’m no’ surprised ye slithered back to someplace familiar, just like the vermin ye are.”

  She sensed Graeme stiffen behind her, but Jerome went on before he could respond. “As soon as I realized what ye were up to, I went straight to Lochmaben and told Laird Munro what ye were about. Ye’ll no’ get away this time, MacKay—no’ with Anna, and no’ with yer life.”

  “I went willingly!”

  Anna hadn’t meant to shout, but she couldn’t stand any more of Jerome’s acid words, nor the accusations being hurled about the church.

  Her voice echoed around the abbey’s arched ceiling until everyone at last fell silent.

  “What is the meaning of all this?” Laird M
unro said, his clear struggle to remain calm making his voice low and tight. “What do ye mean ye are his betrothed, Anna?”

  Anna sucked in a breath, and for the second time that hour she explained all that had passed between her and Graeme—their courtship, his proposal, his sudden appearance on her journey to the Lowlands, her missive, their flight—all the way up to this moment.

  As she spoke, Laird Munro stood silently, his dark brown eyes unreadable. Jerome’s state of mind, however, was written clearly on his hard features. He seethed with barely contained rage, shooting daggers at Graeme with his eyes. His hand still rested on the sheathed sword at his hip despite the priest’s plea to respect the sanctity of the abbey.

  When Anna concluded her story, the priest cleared his throat.

  “I can confirm, Laird Munro, that the missives in question appear to be valid. Lady Anna Ross was already technically engaged before she entered the marriage agreement with ye.”

  Laird Munro’s gaze landed on Anna. She flinched instinctively, but when she met his eyes, she found a surprising gentleness in them.

  “And this is what ye want, Anna?” he asked quietly. “To marry this MacKay?”

  Anna turned and locked gazes with Graeme.

  “Aye, Laird,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “It is all I’ve ever wanted.”

  Laird Munro let out a slow breath. “Then it appears I cannae stop ye.”

  Jerome squared his shoulders to Graeme. “Ye’ve destroyed an alliance between the Rosses and the Munros today, MacKay—and ye’ve made two more enemies for yer clan as well. Without this alliance, ye’ve thrown the Highlands into even more turmoil, ye—”

  To Anna’s surprise, Laird Munro held up a hand, and Jerome fell instantly silent, his teeth clicking together as he clamped his jaw shut.

  “Enough, Jerome,” Laird Munro said quietly. He turned to Graeme. “Forgive my commander’s sharp tongue. He’s the most loyal man ye’ll ever meet. I’m most grateful to have earned such faithful devotion—and no’ to have ever landed on his bad side.”

  Jerome still scowled fiercely at Graeme, but in the face of an order from his Laird, he seemed obliged to remain silent.

  Still, something he’d said troubled Anna. Jerome was right. If she married Graeme, not only would it dissolve the carefully crafted alliance her father and Laird Munro had forged for their two clans, but it would bring already simmering tensions between the Munros, Rosses, and MacKays to a full-on boil.

  Anna had agreed to wed Laird Munro solely for their clans’ benefit. She’d always known it would be her duty as the daughter of a Laird to form an alliance through marriage. What of her duty now? How could she follow her heart toward Graeme if it meant endangering her people?

  She looked up at Graeme, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. From the cloud of unease that crossed his green eyes, he’d had the same thought.

  “What does this mean for our people?” Anna asked softly.

  Laird Munro sighed, drawing her attention back to him.

  “I’ll speak with yer father,” he said, suddenly sounding weary. “The Munros and Rosses have a great deal of good blood between them. Surely with time there will be a way to smooth this over.”

  “And the MacKays?” Graeme murmured. “Will this pit my clan against no’ only the Rosses, but the Munros as well?”

  Laird Munro exhaled again, dragging a hand through his disheveled gray-brown hair. “We all want peace,” he said. “But it is hard to come by in the Highlands, it seems.”

  Anna felt Graeme stiffen behind her. She turned to find him staring intently at Laird Munro.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  Brows drawn together and face set in stone, he looked every bit the fierce warrior she’d fallen in love with, but she could also see the intricate wheels of his mind working behind his bright green eyes.

  “I have an idea.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time the priest had guided them all to a private chamber set back from the nave and they’d been seated around a small circular table, anxiety gnawed viciously in Anna’s stomach.

  What could Graeme possibly have in mind? His knee brushed hers beneath the table and he gave her a reassuring look before turning his attention to Laird Munro and Jerome.

  “As ye said, Laird Munro, the alliance between yer clan and the Rosses has long been stable,” he began.

  “Aye,” Laird Munro said cautiously. “Though in uncertain times like these, an alliance can never be too strong.”

  “Yer main concern is the Mackenzies, is it no’?” Graeme went on. “Both ye and the Rosses share a border with them, and they are a large and powerful clan.”

  Laird Munro nodded once, his brows drawn together.

  “The MacKays have lands that border the Mackenzies as well,” Graeme said. “But we worry less about them because of our alliance with the Sutherlands.”

  “And the Rosses dinnae like the Sutherlands, so the Rosses dinnae like the MacKays, and therefore the Munros, who like the Rosses, dinnae like the MacKays either, and on and on,” Laird Munro finished, a frown on his face. “I ken all this, lad. What is yer point?”

  Graeme leaned forward, propping his elbows on the little wooden table. “My point is, Laird, we are all Highlanders united behind Robert the Bruce and the cause for freedom.”

  He turned to Anna and surprised her by taking her hand. “Anna reminded me of that,” he said, his gaze soft on her for a moment before he went on. “We’ve come together before—to join our forces for the Bruce’s cause. Is it no’ madness that we should continue this endless clan squabbling when we have been fighting and dying alongside one another on the battlefield against the English?”

  Graeme’s attention shifted to Jerome. “Just this past April, I was part of the King’s siege on Berwick Castle. I fought alongside a Munro. When I took an arrow to the leg, he dragged me to cover. If it wasnae for him, I’d have been turned into a MacKay pin-pillow by the English archers, and my bones would be buried outside Berwick’s wall right now.”

  Anna’s hand tightened on Graeme’s as he continued. “I also fought beside a Sutherland, and a Ross, and a Mackenzie, as well as a MacLeod and other MacKays. Dinnae ye see? We are on the same side for once in our bloody lives. This in-fighting needs to stop before we make complete arses of ourselves and do something irreversible.”

  Laird Munro blinked at Graeme’s bluntness. Jerome remained silent, watching Graeme closely, though the suspicion and anger narrowing his eyes earlier had eased slightly.

  The Laird brought a hand up to the graying beard on his chin. “I hear what ye are saying, lad,” he murmured. “Truth be told, that is the verra reason the Bruce called me to Lochmaben. He hopes that the Highland clans can find a way to expend less energy on our feuds so that we can face the English in a united front. We’d all hoped the war would be over with the Battle of Bannockburn, but it looks as though freedom will come slow and hard-fought.”

  Graeme nodded. “Aye, exactly. The King needs our best if we ever hope to defeat the English once and for all, no’ all this squabbling and fighting over a dozen sheep here and there.”

  “Or a thwarted marriage alliance?” Jerome asked quietly, lifting a dark brow. “Some of our feuds are petty, aye, but others have run in our blood for centuries.”

  “Do ye want yer bairns fighting the same wars as ye, Jerome?” Graeme murmured. “Or yer grand-bairns? I dinnae.”

  He looked at Anna again, and her pulse quickened. It felt as though they were teetering on a blade’s edge.

  On one side lay the familiar ways of doing things—feuds, squabbles, and long-standing tensions. If their people could not learn to get along, it wouldn’t matter if the Pope himself blessed Graeme and Anna’s union, and all this would be for naught.

  On the other side, however, lay a future where they could live and love whom they wanted, and mayhap even find a greater strength in their unity than they ever had apart.

  “Aye, our feud
s run deep, but someone has to end them. Someone has to be willing to be the first,” Graeme said quietly. “And I propose that we be those people.”

  “What are ye suggesting?” Laird Munro asked.

  “That the MacKays, Munros, and Rosses all form an alliance,” Graeme replied, squaring his shoulders. “My marriage to Anna will go a long way to unite our two clans. And with the Munros so close to the Rosses, yer clan would be a natural friend of the MacKays as well, Laird. Together, we’d have far greater leverage and bargaining power when it comes to dealing with the likes of the Mackenzies. Who kens, mayhap this will even ease tensions between the Rosses and the Sutherlands, what with the MacKays as a common ally.”

  Laird Munro considered this for a long time until Anna feared that he wouldn’t even dignify such an idea with a response. At last, though, he spoke.

  “Such talk is all well and good when it is just that—talk. But how do ye hope to bring this all to fruition, lad? To speak plainly, ye are neither a Laird nor the son of a Laird. What sway do ye have over such dealings?”

  “I may no’ be in a position of power myself. But as ye say, the King himself wishes for such alliances amongst the Highland clans,” Graeme said. “My cousin, Colin MacKay, has worked closely with the King in his Bodyguard Corps, and I was set to join him in the Corps before…well, before I made a mess of things with this mission.”

  Graeme let out a breath that was half-mirth, half-desperation. “Even if I am no longer welcome in the Corps after…all this,” he waved a hand to encompass Anna, the abbey, Jerome, and Laird Munro, “Colin still has the King’s ear. I have every faith that if it meant peace in the Highlands, the Bruce would direct Colin to speak with Laird Iye MacKay about an alliance treaty between our three clans.”

  Jerome leaned back in his chair then, and to Anna’s shock, he actually wore a look of respect on his normally hard-set features.

  Laird Munro began to nod slowly. “I believe—as does the King—that it is past time we put aside these petty differences and come together as Highlanders.”