“You did what?” Agneys made it almost out of her chair before she caught herself. “My apologies for my outburst, my laird. I had not heard any rumor.”
Lardiner glared, his eyes darting from person to person in the room. “And welcome to her you are. It will do you no good. When my Agneys delivers the old laird’s son . . .”
Malcolm had had enough of this.
“There will be no son. No bairn at all, as a matter of fact. Yer daughter is no with child.”
“You lie!” Lardiner yelled, attempting to rise from his chair but finding the hands of his guards holding him in his seat.
“No. You murdered yer laird too soon, Lardiner. And you’ll have to answer for that. Murder’s a premeditated breach of the king’s peace. The justiciar ayres will meet in a few months. We’ll make sure yer brought before them to answer for yer crimes.”
“I had no part in what he did to our good laird,” Shaw sniveled from his spot in the corner.
“No, I ken the truth of that.” As he’d hoped, the rat was ready to turn. “But you had a hand in the other deaths, did you no?”
“There were no other deaths,” Lardiner snarled.
“But there were. My good wife’s guardian, beaten before he was thrown into the pit, I believe? He dinna survive that. His death is on yer head as well as yer
master’s.”
“And the child,” Patrick said roughly.
“Aye,” Malcolm agreed. “The child who witnessed the old laird’s murder. Lardiner beat the boy severely and then you—” He smiled at Shaw, but he felt nothing even approaching humor. “You tried to burn him alive in my wife’s cottage.”
“I dinna ken the lad to be inside. I heard no screams. I told Master Roland. I heard no screams.” Shaw’s voice became more frantic as he pleaded his case.
“And if you had, would it have made a difference? My own brother tells me you were about to put my wife and her guardian to the sword when he arrived.”
The man looked around the room as if desperate to find a single ally. He would find none here.
“And the old woman here at the castle?”
“I had nothing to do with Auld Annie. That was Master Roland himself did that,” Shaw offered up. “Strangled her with his own two hands. I stood witness to that.”
“Hold yer tongue, you fool,” Lardiner yelled, once again being held down in his seat.
“You stood witness,” Malcolm repeated, disgust turning his stomach at the murder of a helpless old woman. “But you did nothing to stop it.”
“Yer as guilty as that one,” Patrick all but spat at the man.
Malcolm held up a hand to stop his brother. All in good time.
“And he’ll stand before the justiciar ayres for his crimes as well.”
“You’ve a nerve,” Lardiner yelled. “As if yer above murder yerself. Did you no threaten to bring yer army down on the whole of the MacGahan in order to take over these lands?”
“It’s because of yer deceit we came here, Lardiner.” Patrick delivered his accusation with deadly calm. “You came to us two years back, claiming to represent the word of yer laird. Offering money you never paid for livestock we supplied. In his name, yer the one offered us title to the lands if yer laird failed to make payment. Did you no think we’d track you down?”
“Enough.” Malcolm was done with the men. “My men will accompany you both to Edinburgh on the morrow. You’ll be turned over to the sheriff there to await yer trials. The justiciar ayres will deal with yer crimes. Get them out of here.”
“And what of me?” Agneys asked quietly from her seat. “You ken I had nothing to do with my father’s crimes. I even warned you of his plan against you. Would you have me be yer wife’s maid or will I be confined to my chambers for the rest of my life?”
Patrick made a noise of disgust low in his throat, but Malcolm forestalled any comment he might make with a touch to his brother’s arm.
“Sadly my good wife did not survive her trek to see her guardian home to his family.”
As he expected, Agneys’s expression brightened and she popped up from her chair, heading straight for him. “That’s perfect. We can go forward as we planned. None save the men in this room ken that I dinna carry the old laird’s bairn. We can marry and yer child can be the rightful laird.”
She had closed in on him, sliding her delicate hand seductively down his chest.
He grabbed her fingers, trapping them before they trailed below his waist, surprised she’d try this ploy with Patrick as witness.
“Can you no see my poor brother’s in mourning after the recent loss of his wife,” Patrick said. “As you should be for the loss of yer laird and husband.”
“Must he stay?” Agneys asked, her pleasant façade cracking just a little as she placed her other hand on Malcolm’s chest.
“Aye, my lady,” Malcolm answered, peeling both her hands from his body and backing away. “I think it’s for the best that he remain with us. And as to the plans you spoke of, they were yers alone and none of mine. I dinna require a bairn to name myself laird.”
“He is laird by rights of his own,” Patrick added.
“As you say.” Agneys turned her back, crossing to her chair and retaking her seat. “If you won’t take me to wife, what will you do with me?”
He’d thought long and hard on this. Though Agneys was a beauty indeed, he’d tossed his lot to chance when he wed Isabella to ensure a clear succession. She, to his good fortune, had been an honest woman, true to her word. But he wouldn’t risk his future to any female again. He didn’t need to.
“You’ve a choice, my lady. I’m told yer father has family in England and yer mother’s people are in France. I’ll see to it yer delivered to whichever one you wish.”
“France,” she answered without any hesitation, and with a deep sigh she rose to her feet. “The young widow of an old Scottish laird, living in France? I could do much worse.”
“Indeed, my lady.”
It was Malcolm’s guess that a woman like Agneys would do very well indeed.
Epilogue
PRESENT DAY
“Did you see that catch?” Laughing, Robert clapped his hands and yelled his support. “No doubt about it, my Jamie has the makings of a fine running back, for a fact.”
“Aye, but it was Dougie’s arm that laid the ball right in the zone.” Connor slapped his back as they both sat back down on the grass to watch their children at play.
“Ooof! That hit was hard enough to rattle my teeth,” Ramos observed returning from the house and passing a cold beer to each of the other men. “After that hit, my money’s on Rosie for first all-pro female tackle. We should put her up for rugby.”
Robert smiled, stretching his feet out in front of him and scratching the head of the little dog at his side. It didn’t get any better than this. Two of his best friends and their families, a holiday cookout, and fireworks in town tonight.
This was the life he’d always dreamed of.
“And who’s watching the grill?”
He turned toward the sound of his wife’s voice, a thrill running through him as he watched her picking her way across the lawn, a precious bundle held in her arms. He would never grow tired of watching that woman.
Cate and Mairi followed along after her, their arms laden with bowls and bags and whatever good things they’d spent their morning gossiping over in the kitchen.
“If you guys burn those burgers, yer going to have to answer to the footballers out there,” Mairi called, peering down at the grill with a raised eyebrow.
“Dinna you touch that fire pit, lassie,” her brother warned. “Grilling is man’s work.”
“Riiiight,” Cate shot back, rolling her eyes and plopping down on the bench. “Men’s work.”
The footballers had picked up the scent of food and were headed toward the table. His own Jamie, followed by Connor and Cate’s three children—all had played hard enough to build hearty appetites, though their youngest, Cor
y, a happy two-year old, had done little but run under the legs of the older three.
Robert glanced back toward the picnic table under the trees where his beautiful Isa poured cups of iced juice for the children.
When she caught him staring she laughed, placing a hand on the delicate basket at her side. By this time next year, there would be another MacQuarrie future footballer toddling around in the mix. His precious daughter, who he hoped would grow to look exactly like her mother. Though barely four months old, she already had the wild red hair. More strangely still, she’d been born with the Guardian Mark on her perfect little hand. No one, not even Pol, could explain how that had happened.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.” Cate paused to lift Cory from his feet and settle him on her hip. “Jesse called. He said to wish everyone a happy Fourth. He said he and Destiny had their own celebration this morning, complete with fireworks, though he suspects it might not have been the politically correct thing to do. Considering where they are and what they were celebrating.”
“Are you joking?” Ramos responded with a laugh. “It’s Scotland we’re talking about. They’d gladly celebrate anyone’s independence from England.”
Robert chuckled along with the others, knowing his best friend, Jesse, had never been particularly concerned with political correctness.
But the man was happy and that was what mattered most. Robert had seen that with his own two eyes when he’d taken Isa and Jamie to Scotland for a visit several months ago.
As soon as she’d settled in, Isa had wanted to see for herself how her home had changed over the past seven hundred years, but it had taken a while to manage all the proper documentation for her and Jamie. Thanks to Coryell Enterprises and their backdoor connections, even the adoption paperwork officially naming Jamie a MacQuarrie had come through before their trip.
Jamie had taken the news of his grandmother’s death like a stoic little warrior. Robert liked to think the boy’s strange new life and his loving new parents helped ease him through the transition.
When they’d finally reached Scotland, Isa and Jesse’s wife, Destiny, had hit it off as fast friends immediately, cackling together like hens as they shared stories about Leah, Destiny’s sister. And when Isa gave Leah’s stone to Destiny? Lord, but it had been a major piece of waterworks if he’d ever seen such.
He and Jesse had left them with their female bonding in favor of introducing Jamie to the Portal Jesse guarded and the Faerie world beyond. As a part of this new clan, the lad needed to understand all he would encounter.
The visit had been an emotional roller coaster for them all, and certainly it had raised new challenges they’d need to confront in the future.
Somehow MacQuarrie Keep, which had been a pile of ruins before he’d taken Leah back in time, was now a beautifully kept private home. Mairi had spent long days researching the records she could find, trying to determine what they might have done that had so altered history, but she hadn’t yet uncovered the documentation that held the secrets they sought.
Neither had she found evidence of what had become of Leah or of her own cousins, the MacAlisters, though he knew her dogged determination. If any scrap of document remained, she’d eventually find it.
Pol had been none too pleased with that bit of news about the changes they couldn’t explain, but he was hard pressed to say much since it had been at his own suggestion they’d gone in the first place.
“Robbie!”
His attention snapped back to the present at the sound of Isa’s call.
“The bairns are hungry, dearling. Stop yer lying about on yer arses, the three of you, and get these burgers cooked.”
Much might have changed, but not Isabella’s fiery temper.
“That’s right,” Cate added. “It’s getting late and the boys are looking forward to you guys having a sword practice before we go into town for the fireworks. You promised.”
They had indeed.
Robert pushed up off the grass, grumbling and muttering in play, just as his two friends did. It was their job as the men of the house to appear put-upon, though everyone present knew how much they enjoyed their lives.
Flipping a burger on the grill, the sizzle and smoke rising into the air, this was the best of times.
Robert had enjoyed his visit to Scotland, but in truth, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere but here. And his trip back in time had proven once and for all that right here, right now was where this highlander belonged. This was his home.
It had taken him almost a decade of self-doubt and the near loss of his life—twice!—but all the wonder that he saw as he looked at the friends and family surrounding him left him with no questions.
This was what made this highlander’s homecoming worth every minute of his life.
Go back to where it all began!
Turn the page for an excerpt from the first
Daughters of the Glen book,
THIRTY NIGHTS WITH A HIGHLAND HUSBAND
Available now from Pocket Books
Prologue
The Legend of the Faerie Glen
Long, long ago on a beautiful spring day in the Highlands of Scotland, a Prince of the Fae Folk peered through the curtain separating his world from that of the mortals. There, deep in a glen Pol thought of as his own, he saw a beautiful young woman gathering herbs. He watched her for a very long time, until her basket was nearly full, and he knew he had fallen in love with this innocent mortal. His love was so great for this woman that he was able to slip through a crack in the curtain between their worlds. Pol appeared to the maiden in his true magnificence, making no effort to disguise himself, for he knew she must love him for what he was.
Rose had wandered deep into the forest that day, gathering her herbs, and she had become entranced by the serenity of the glen. When Pol appeared before her, his beauty stole her breath away, and she knew at once that this was her own true love.
Pol and Rose dwelt happily in their idyllic glen next to the little stream where first he had seen her. But after a mortal year together, Pol was forced to return to his own world, for in those days, far in the misty recesses of time, the Fae abided by very strict rules.
One of those rules governed how long one of their own could remain outside the Realm of Faerie. Once returned to his own world, Pol would be unable to pass through the barrier again for a full century. And though one hundred years was nothing in the life span of a Fae, Pol knew his Rose would be no more at the end of that time.
Rose returned to her family, knowing her prince was lost to her forever. At first Rose’s father, the old laird, was ecstatic that his little Rose had returned to him, even hearing her fantastic story of the Fae prince with whom she had spent the past year. Soon, however, it became apparent that Rose was with child, and her father and brothers were furious. Not only was their Rose a ruined woman, but to their way of thinking she had been defiled by a devious, unholy creature of magic. They began to treat her not as their beloved daughter and sister, but as their most reviled servant.
Rose toiled in the hot kitchens from sunrise to sundown each day and suffered all manner of indignity, but she didn’t care, because her heart was gone from her. Her reason for living had disappeared with Pol.
Meanwhile, Pol could only watch with growing dismay, unable to pass through the curtain separating their worlds, as his beloved Rose slipped farther and farther away.
Finally the day came when Rose delivered her babes—three strong, healthy, beautiful girls. But Rose, whose spirit was damaged by the loss of her one true love, did not survive their birth. Rose’s father refused to look upon the faces of the infants and decreed that they should be taken deep into the forest and left for the Faeries to whom they belonged—or the wolves. He cared not which claimed the infants first.
The old laird himself led the small party deep into the forest. As fate would have it, they were in the very same glen where Pol had watched Rose for the first time. The old laird ordered the infants to be l
aid on the grassy forest floor near a small shallow stream. Rose’s brothers, who had each carried an infant, laid the babes on the ground and remounted their horses in preparation to leave the glen.
Pol, watching at the curtain between the worlds, was livid with rage and wracked with grief. Not only was his beloved Rose gone from the world, but now her children, his children, were being cruelly abandoned. His tormented cry of anguish reached his queen, who, in a rare moment of pity, broke the rules and opened the curtain just enough to allow Pol to slip through.
The wind suddenly began to howl through the tiny glen and thunder rumbled ominously. The ground around the old laird’s party heaved and shook, and the old laird himself was thrown from his horse to the forest floor. He and his sons watched in horror as boulders pushed up from beneath the earth in the very center of the stream, piling higher and higher, one upon another. There they formed a magnificent waterfall and a deep crystal pool where only moments before a shallow stream had flowed.
Pol rose slowly from the depths of the pool, choosing to play upon the individual terrors of the men by appearing to each of the mortals as that which they most feared.
“I am Pol, a prince of the Fae. And you”—he swept his arm to include the brothers as well as the father—“have incurred my wrath. Now you will pay the penalty.” His gaze turned to the helpless infants lying nearby, all three strangely quiet and untouched by the tumult around them. “These are my daughters. My blood runs strongly in them.” Pol moved to the infants, gently picking up each one in turn. “I name each of you for your mother, my beloved Rose. For all time, your daughters shall carry a form of her name to ensure that her memory will live on in this world forever. I give each of you my mark and my blessing. Know this glen as the home of your mother and your father.”
Pol turned back to the old laird. “I charge you with the care and the safety of my daughters.”
“Never,” the old laird hissed. “They are yer abominations. You take them. Neither I nor my sons will shelter yer spawn at our hearth.”
A Highlander’s Homecoming Page 25