Highland Treasure

by Mary McCall

  His grandson Edgar hurried into the hall. “Two women approach. One is a Fraser. The other is the new Lady MacPherson. Their chieftains follow close behind."

  Red suffused The MacDougall's face, and a purple vein throbbed in his forehead. He slammed two beefy fists upon the table and stood up. “That bitch wouldn't have the gall to attack my granddaughter, steal her husband, and then come gloat! I will see her in hell!"

  He strode across the hall and stepped out onto the low front landing, followed by the many MacDougalls who had been inside. He arrived in time to witness the MacPherson woman pull the legs out from under one of his biggest warriors with a lash of her whip.

  By damn, she would regret invading his domain. He moved forward to the end of the stoop. Noticing the plaid that draped her lap, he bellowed, “By what right do you wear my plaid!"

  The woman nudged her black stallion around, scowling at him as she coiled her whip. Her face froze his blood. By God! Though the coloring was different, ‘twas Marcail his daughter all over again. Damnation! She was glaring at him through her father's raging blue eyes.

  "By right of birth, MacDougall. My mother was proud of this plaid. She bade me to seek you out, wearing it if I ever escaped to the Highlands, and I promised her I would. Having kept my word, I gladly return the cursed thing."

  Hope stood upon Diable's bare back, snatched the plaid from her lap, and threw it in the dirt at her grandfather's feet. “That is all I saved to keep the promise. The rest burned with your daughter on her funeral bier."

  He paled. “Marcail is dead?"

  "I vowed to avenge your betrayal.” Her hands rested upon her hips as she spat out the hate stored in her heart.

  "You what!” The MacDougall's flush returned at her audacity.

  Hope ignored his outburst. “I planned to kill you, but that wouldn't be enough for me. I'm here to do much worse. I will give you my memory. ‘Tis a memory of a gentle and loving Marcail MacDougall whose only crime was giving her heart to a man of the wrong clan. Do you remember your daughter, MacDougall? See her in your mind. Picture her sunny smile, her sparkling green eyes and ivory skin. Do not forget the flames that shot forth whenever the sun hit that glorious head of auburn hair. Hear in your head the honeyed burr of her voice and the lilt in her laughter. Can you remember her as you last saw her? Do you see her in your mind?

  "Watch the sparkle fade from her eyes as they lose their luster and become vacant. Imagine her washed-out, bruised, bloody and the spirit beaten out of her. Imagine her so afraid that the slightest noise or shadow makes her cringe in terror. Picture her beaten every day for the rest of her life by that cursed swine you gave her to.” Hope's voice cracked. “He not only beat her, MacDougall, he used her as he uses the young boys he prefers. When he finally drove her mad with constant torture, she became an embarrassment.

  "One morning I awoke to her screams of agony. From my chamber window I saw him take a knife and slice open her belly. As her bowels fell, he stomped them into the dirt. Then he bound her hands and dragged her pain-wracked body around the west pasture eleven times. Once for each year she lived there. He left her in the middle of the field for the wolves and birds to feast upon and forbade the burial of the cursed heathen on his land.” Hope shook with the anguish of her catharsis.

  "I hardly recognized the beautiful Marcail MacDougall in the bloody heap on the ground. With tears blurring my eyes, I walked through that field and picked up pieces of my mother's insides that had fallen out. Do you see these hands, MacDougall?” Hope held up her hands and stared at them in a tormented daze. “I held her precious heart in these hands."

  The MacDougall saw Hope shake her head and glare at him alone; she ignored the rest of the appalled audience. “Under the cover of darkness, an old Saxon servant helped me wrap her body in her plaid and put her upon the bier. With these same hands, I set the torch, praying the winds would blow north and carry her home for her final rest. I vowed my vengeance that night.

  "My mother loved you, MacDougall. Even after your betrayal, you held a place in her heart no one else could ever touch. Aye, she loved you, and she loved her Highlands. She taught me the language, told me stories and many things about your way of life. She taught me that a chieftain's primary duty is to protect those the Good Lord entrusts to his care. But ‘twas her loving heart, which turned you against her, that prevented her from seeing what a cursed, pathetic excuse for a chieftain you are.

  "You failed, MacDougall.” Hope pointed at the old chief's chest and sounded tremulous, as if raw with emotion. “You failed in your most sacred duty when you didn't guard the most precious treasure ever given to you by Almighty God.

  "I want you to share my memory. Every night for the rest of your life I want you to wake, trembling with sweats. In your mind, I want you to see the broken, battered, lifeless body of Marcail MacDougall. And when you see her, remember ‘twas you who handed her over to the devil. Only that will satisfy my vengeance."

  Hope trembled from head to foot. All around her wore expressions of horror at the vision she had created. “And one more thing. The MacPherson kept the pact. Whether you claim me or not, he married your eldest granddaughter."

  "Aye. ‘Tis finished.” The MacDougall nodded and felt a tremendous sadness seep through him.

  "Zounds!” Hope raked him with disgusted eyes. “We're still feuding. I just want you to know the right reason. ‘Twas your Mildread who gave The MacPherson's son to my cursed father's man. While I'm tempted to thank her, I'm sure The MacPherson will see it as just cause to feud."

  "You would thank her?” Edgar appeared as surprised as everyone else that the question had fallen from his lips.

  Hope turned her gaze on him, and he took a step back. “I had given up coming to the Highlands when I realized ‘twas my duty to return Bertie. Had Mildread not given him over, I might never have come. Now that I think about it, The MacPherson would have married her instead of me, so that is her fault too."

  She scowled at her grandfather. “I did not kill you this time, MacDougall, but hear me well. Even though my father is his enemy, The MacPherson is the only man who has ever been nice to me. He may not want me when he learns I have enemy blood from you too. I cannot blame him if he casts me aside. But he is a good man, and I care for him. If I see one new mark on his body from this feud, I will hunt you down, put you through a slow, cursed and excruciating torture, and then, mayhap if you are lucky, I will eventually kill you."

  "Slow, cursed and excruciating torture?” Cassie whispered sarcastically. “Nice touch."

  Hope smiled at her friend and casually sank astride Diable, using the muscles in her legs.

  "You just threatened to kill me!” The MacDougall felt his face flush and the vein in his forehead pulsate as if in jeopardy of bursting.

  "Not quite, MacDougall.” Cassie smiled graciously. “Lady MacPherson said she would only do that if you're lucky. Knowing her, you probably won't be. ‘Tis the slow, cursed and excruciating torture you should fret about."

  A sneer crossed Hope's face. “Aye. I learned a lot about inflicting pain from my cursed father."

  Cassie picked up her reins. “Are you ready to leave, Lady MacPherson?"

  "For bloody certain, and are you ready, Lady Fraser?"

  Both women smiled at each other, nodded once, then turned their mounts. Cassie spotted their husbands behind them first. “Oh Lord!"

  "That would be chief to you, Lady Fraser,” Ian said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “But ‘tis good you recognize the extent of my authority over you."

  Hope flashed Leonce a dazzling smile. “Good afternoon, Chief MacPherson, Chief Fraser.” She nodded toward Ian and then returned her gaze to Leonce. “Cassie and I thought it a wonderful day for a ride, and we got sidetracked into a lovely conversation with The MacDougall here."

  "Exactly what was your original destination?” Leonce asked without snorting at the bald-faced lie. Hope tightened her smile, obviously trying to come up with an answer.


  "Dunkeld,” Hope blurted.

  "Did you say Dunkeld?” He appeared to be stifling a laugh, maybe at the fact she had at least picked a place in Scotland.

  "Aye, but it must be farther than we thought, and time grows late. What say you, Cassie? Should we turn back and try for Dunkeld another day?"

  "'Tis a good plan.” Cassie pasted on a smile. “We would welcome your company if you are heading the same way?"

  "After you, Lady Fraser.” Ian extended an arm behind him.

  Cassie hesitated, and then rode past Ian, who followed her.

  Hope arched a fine brow at Leonce.

  "Do go on, my lady. I'll join you after I speak with The MacDougall."

  Hope rode over to him, leaned close to his face, and whispered: “Mark my words bloody well, MacDougall. I never make idle threats."

  Tightening her legs, she signaled Diable into a high rear. The big man jumped back as the mighty hooves left the ground. Pivoting on his hindquarters, Diable broke into a full gallop, passing Leonce and charging down the path.

  * * * *

  The MacDougall cleared his throat and faced Leonce. “You need to beat her, MacPherson."

  "When we first met, Hope asked me for a promise never to beat my wife, and I gave it to her. You realize she meant Mildread at the time, even knowing what she had done to Bertie. I'm wondering, do you ken why Hope asked such a thing?"

  "Aye, I ken.” The old laird's face crumbled. “You heard her. Do we talk or feud?"

  "I'll decide about feuding after you have your say."

  The MacDougall rubbed his chin and squinted up at Leonce. “Well now, I'm thinking, while it might have been my Mildread who turned over your lad, and I'm not saying I believe it because I've seen no proof, mind you. But even still, seeing as my other granddaughter brought him back, I'm thinking we're even. And mayhap you should tell her Dunkeld is in the opposite direction and clear across the Grampians afore she goes for any more rides."

  Leonce stared at the old chief for a moment and nodded once. “'Tis finished."

  "One thing afore you go.” Resolution hardened The MacDougall's face. “I cannot make up to her for her mother. She will always hate me. But there is another wrong I'll be righting as soon as I decide how, though it may not be to your liking. You tell her, though I have no right, I'm proud she's my granddaughter."

  Leonce nodded curtly, then nudged his mount and headed after his troublesome wife.

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  Chapter Nineteen

  * * * *

  Hope's eyes brimmed. She rode along in the procession of warriors, drifting farther and farther back. She truly cared for Leonce, and he was going to cast her aside. She sniffed and wiped at a tear rolling down her cheek. ‘Twas just as well. She never had a problem with crying before they wed.

  After she left The MacDougall, she caught up with Cassie and Ian. MacPherson and Fraser warriors fell in around them. Bowyn looked away as if the sight of her shamed him. The other warriors stared at her like she was a two-headed kelpie. What did it matter? Now they could use her cursed grandfather as further cause for animosity.

  When Leonce arrived, she tried speaking to him. He said there would be no talking until they got off enemy land. Then he ignored her and rode ahead. Why in perdition were they not traveling through the brush of the forest on their right if they were in a hostile area, instead of advertising their presence on this open trail? Leonce must have lied to cover up for not wanting her near him. The Good Lord and His angels knew only a fool would have the gall to parade an army of weapon-laden warriors in open view on hostile land.

  Where could she go? The Fraser was furious. He forbade Cassie visits to Hope for one month. Cassie's tears moved him to decrease the punishment to two weeks. Unfortunately, that was two weeks too long when Hope might need a refuge tonight. She supposed she could always find a cave.

  Diable slowed his pace to a gentle trot. Hope suppressed a groan. Zounds, her rump hurt! She hadn't ridden this much since she arrived. If they didn't stop soon, she might bloody well die. Cursed and rot! Had she become so spoiled by The MacPherson's soft bed that she couldn't survive the wilds?

  The notion set her heart racing, causing another pressing problem. If she didn't stop, she would disgrace herself by answering nature's call on Diable's back. The proud stallion would never forgive her.

  The last warrior rode well ahead. She sighed. “They'll bloody well not notice or care, Diable."

  She nudged the steed off the path and slipped into the forest. After seeking her ease behind a tree, she returned to Diable. The muscles bunched in her neck, and she stilled. Someone was being stalked. Not her, but someone.

  Scanning the area, she spotted a young child almost halfway across the field pulling at the wildflowers. Nay, not a child, but a babe, for it could not have seen two summers yet. What was a babe doing out there alone?

  Harry landed upon her shoulder. He must have sensed the stalking too. Out of the corner of her eye, Hope spotted a glimpse of dark-brown fur about thirty yards from the babe creeping toward it.

  "Zounds! Nobody could get there in time, and I have not my bow.” Harry nuzzled her cheek. “Aye, my friend, nobody but you. The babe, Harry, bring it to me."

  The giant eagle soared toward the babe. Hope hitched up her skirts and vaulted astride Diable, grabbing a handful of mane. “Wolf-bait, Diable!"

  The fearless steed surged forth, racing after Harry, who swooped low and lifted the prize. The wolf let out an enraged snarl and leaped in the air, but Harry was clean away. Pounding hooves attracted the angry beast's attention. Hope nudged Diable so he would veer right and keep running. “You want to feast, wolf? Come to me!"

  The wolf pursued his new prey. Hope removed the dirk from her belt and placed the blade between her teeth. Then she balanced her feet upon Diable's back and turned, facing the wolf, her shoulders hunched. With the wind whipping at her unraveling braid, she inched down to the stallion's rump. Crouching low, she pulled the blade from her mouth. “Come on, you mangy beastie. Just a little closer, you cursed ugly dog."

  The jeers incensed the wolf, and he moved in. When he was about ten paces away, Hope cried, “Now, Diable!"

  The stallion bucked up his hindquarters. She sprang from his rump and twisted in midair, then landed astride the wolf, facing his head. She jerked up his huge snout with her left arm and sliced his neck open with the dirk in her right hand. The beast collapsed dead beneath her.

  Hope wiped her blade on the fur and sheathed the dirk. Diable circled back and trotted toward her. She leapt up and threw her arms around his neck.

  "We won!” She pulled back and kissed his nose. “Great game, my friend."

  Laughter bubbled from her chest. She spun in a circle, stretching her arms above her head and swinging five feet of windswept tresses behind her. “We won, Harry! Bring me my prize."

  The eagle deposited a crying baby boy in her arms, then went and perched on Diable's neck.

  "My thanks, my magnificent warrior. You shall have the liver."

  Holding the toddler close, Hope rubbed her cheek against his. “Ah, wee laddie, dry your tears. ‘Tis safe you are now."

  Roaring thunder blasted her ears. She looked toward the sky and found it clear in this late afternoon hour. Then she spotted a line of angry-looking warriors racing toward her from the far end of the field. Glancing behind, she saw MacPhersons and Frasers approaching. They didn't appear pleased either. Leonce looked bloody furious.

  Cursed and rot! She hadn't done anything this much fun in weeks, and she didn't want to lose the exhilarating rush. She would bloody well ignore them. Turning another circle, she laughed and kissed the babe's cheek. “We'll not allow those mean hulks to spoil our game, my wee cherub."

  The babe quit crying and stared at Hope through curious deep-gray-blue eyes. The two armies fell into lines about twenty paces apart with Hope, the babe, Diable, Harry and the wolf carcass between them.

  "Well, wee
wolf-bait, it appears we are about to learn who you belong to."

  "I hate when you do this!” Cassie called, falling in behind Ian.

  "Ha! Did you hear that, my wee Highland honey? Cassie is jealous because she didn't get to play."

  "Hand over my son!"

  Hope looked at the mounted, brown-haired giant who bellowed the command and noticed he wore a chieftain's badge. “You would be claiming this poor babe, Chief?"

  "Aye, give him to me."

  "Not until you calm down."

  The man turned, red faced. “Now!"

  "Do not be daft. This little one just had a cursed terrible fright, didn't you, wee precious?” Hope kissed the babe, who grinned and grabbed a fistful of her hair. “He is barely over it. If he senses his big papa's anger, he could take another scare. Two such frights coming so close together at his age could bloody well make his mind not grow. And you don't want that, do you, wee lambkin?"

  She thought fear glinted in the chief's eyes before they closed. When they reopened, they were less angry but still agitated, and he spoke instead of yelled. “You will return my son. Now."

  Hope shook her head. “Not until you promise not to lose him again."

  "What!” The man gaped at her audacity.

  "Give The MacCallister back his son, Hope."

  At the razor-sharp edge in her husband's order, she ambled to the claimant. “Are you The MacCallister?"

  The giant nodded. Hope beckoned him by crooking her finger. As he leaned down, she whispered, “'Tis a pleasure to meet you, but I understand you have a cursed feud going with my husband, so I probably shouldn't say so."

  He glanced toward Leonce in askance and then turned back on Hope. “You're Lady MacPherson?"

  "Aye, but The MacPherson is miffed with me. I best not provoke him further, so I'll be brief. You have a handsome son.” She looked at the babe and then smiled at The MacCallister. “Why, I believe he has your beautiful stormy-blue eyes. Please don't lose him again. I might not be around to save him next time. Even if I am, I think The MacPherson is about to tell me I cannot play wolf-bait anymore."