Highlander: Secrets (The Scottish series Book 1)

by Ceri Bladen

  Donnan’s brows puckered, and he scratched his head. “Ethan, the accountant?”

  “Aye, Ethan had promised our sire to gift the land back to him as soon as the ink was dry on their marriage certificate.”

  “Why am I never told the plans?” asked Donnan, scratching his ginger beard.

  “Ye are, ye just never listen,” mumbled Druce, who was listening to his brothers’ bickering.

  Donnan scowled. “So why is she not married? She is eight and ten winters,” said Donnan.

  “Because Ethan’s first wife is not dead, yet.” Druce stepped into the conversation to supply the answer.

  Donnan’s lips thinned, he wasn’t worried about something so insignificant. He turned back towards Alban. “But there is no saying that if we get her back, Ethan would want her now. She might no longer be a maid if those MacMahons get their hands on her.”

  Alban shrugged. “It matters not. Ethan made the bargain with our father, and he cannot go back on his oath—whether our sister is a sinner or not. Besides, what makes ye think the auld goat cares? He will have a young wife tae warm his bed.”

  Those eavesdropping had to stifle their sniggers.

  “But what if she carries a bairn, even Kameron MacMahon’s bastard in her belly?” Donnan’s smile faded.

  Alban growled. “’twill not survive.”

  “Brothers. Our sister is not naïve, she would ne’er allow Kameron MacMahon or any other male from that clan near her willingly,” Druce said calmly, “as she ne’er lets anyone from our clan touch her. Don’t forget, she’s heard tae many stories about the MacMahons from our father tae bed any of them.” He smiled briefly before he sobered up. “If she is forced into copulating, she can repent in the stocks and then marry Ethan after she has asked forgiveness from the priest.”

  “But what if she carries a MacMahon bastard?”

  “We will simply keep her locked up and wait until we know if she is carrying a bairn.” A smile split his lips displaying his yellowed teeth. “If she is with child, a slip down a slippery tower step might happen. Then she will immediately wed Ethan,” said Druce.

  Donnan scratched his arm. The fleas had a field day while he was in his scratcher, this morning, after the raid. “What about his wife?”

  “Naught that a bit of poison cannae sort out,” muttered Alban.

  Druce leaned forward the seat Alban sat in. “Sssh brother, you cannae be speaking like that…” He motioned behind him. “Ears.”

  Alban shrugged. “From what I heard, he disnae think much of his wife anyway.”

  “I wouldnae ride her in tae battle, for sure.” Druce sniggered.

  “Whatever ye think about her looks, ye still cannae talk like that. It’s a punishable offence,” Druce said, wondering why he always had to point out the obvious.

  Alban sat straighter. “Not when I’m sworn in as Laird.”

  “Who says ye are tae be the Laird?” Donnan stepped back towards his seated brother.

  “’cause I’m the eldest,” said Alban, standing.

  “Yer a bastard and not the best equipped tae be a laird,” countered Donnan, squaring up once again.

  While the brothers argued, Druce stayed quiet, used to their ruckus. He had his eye on being the next laird, but he was wise enough to let his brothers destroy each other first. After a while, he decided to interject. “Brothers, regardless of who is tae be the next official laird, our immediate problem is Aileana. She needs to be brought home—” he eyed his brothers, “—whether ye want her here or not. The land attached to her is tae valuable to willingly give away tae the MacMahons. Mark my words, if Laird Kameron finds out about it, he will marry her.” He watched his brothers’ faces sober. “We need tae return her tae Ackergill Tower.”

  “That won’t be easy,” Alban muttered, more to himself than his brothers. “Calder Castle is well protected.”

  Donnan stepped forward. “We’ll force our way in!”

  Druce tutted his disdain for his brother’s lack of intelligence. “Brute force will nae work in our favour, brother.”

  Donnan pulled his shoulders back and tapped his sword. “Pray tell us, what will, brother?”

  Druce eyed Alban, who said nothing. He let out a sigh. Why was it always him that had to sort out the problems his dim-witted brothers started? “One of my servants was chatting tae a lady in the market, the other week.” He waved his hand. “I think he has a soft spot for her, as he asked me if he was able tae wed a servant from Calder Castle.”

  Alban sat forward. “Go on.”

  Donnan huffed. “How can a servant help in this matter?”

  Druce gave his brother a withering look before turning to Alban. “I wasn’t interested in his twittering at first, until he mentioned that the lady in question was one of Laird Kameron MacMahon’s bedmates. Wynda, he told me her name was.”

  Smiles grew on the brothers’ lips.

  “So, I’m thinking my servant needs tae go back tae the market and ask a favour from that woman,” said Druce.

  They nodded their agreement.

  “Come, brothers, let’s work together to get Aileana back,” he suggested as he gestured towards the solar, so they could talk in private. “It might be awhile before our plan can be put into action, but we will retrieve her.”

  They weren’t listening, but still bickering with each other. Druce sighed heavily—would they ever mature?

  Chapter 5

  Calder Castle – December 1680

  Three months later…

  “’Tis a bonny sight, tae be sure.”

  Aileana paused, scrubbing brush in hand as she knelt on the hard floor. It was winter, and with little to do outside because of the snow, she’d been ordered to remove the dirty reeds to scrub the muddy floor beneath—a job no one else wanted to do. She glanced over her shoulder. Kameron leaned against a post, arms crossed, a playful look on his face as his gaze returned to her raised behind. She sat on her heels quickly and looked at her red hands which rested on her lap. She took a deep breath to control the way her body responded to him. He had been ‘bumping’ into her frequently in the last three months, and as normal, she didn’t need to look around to know they were alone—she could tell because of how he teased her. He never did that when there were others around—then, he was courteous but formal.

  “Och, dinnae stop on my account, lassie. I cannae deny I’m liking the view.”

  Throwing her brush into the pail, Aileana slowly stood to face him. She had managed to avoid him as much as possible since the bedchamber—especially being alone with him—but he kept finding her. She had thought of him too often since that eve, and it would do her no good to end up liking the laird for looks and his kindness. But running away and avoiding him hadn’t worked. Calder Castle was larger than her home, but it was easy enough to find someone if you wanted—and Kameron MacMahon obviously wanted. The thought thrilled her, but she had to try another tactic to keep him away. It was far too dangerous to have soft feelings for him. “Why are ye here interrupting my work?” She forced agitation into her voice.

  “I dinnae see ye at food time, last night—” he pushed away from the post and shrugged, “—and ‘cause I wanted tae see ye.”

  “Working?” she said sarcastically as she raised a questioning eyebrow, but she couldn’t help the thrill that ran though her. He’d noticed she’d taken to eating somewhere other than the main hall.

  Kameron’s jaw twitched. “I cannae say it pleases me tae see yer working, lassie. But, until ye tell me who ye really are, I’ve told you, I cannae treat you any different tae others.”

  “Mayhap, I dinnae want ye tae treat me differently?”

  He took a step forward. “Don’t ye?”

  She caught the roguish glint in his eyes. This was getting far too dangerous for her—the priest’s sermons on the devious ways of wily men kept creeping in to her thoughts. “Mayhap, I don’t want ye tae seek me out? Mayhap, I dinnae want ye near me? Mayhap, I dinnae like ye and yer ways.�
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  Kameron stilled, studying her quietly, before he took another step forward. His head cocked to the side. “Ye say ye nae like me, and yet ye blush when ye are around me, lassie.”

  “I dinnae.” She put her hands on her hips, trying to look more confident than she felt. This isn’t how she wanted this to go—he was playing havoc with her pulse.

  “Ye dae, lassie. And it’s something I cannae ignore.”

  Aileana took in what he had said and bit down on a smile. He found a liking to her too—that was pleasing. She sobered. Unless he is playing games with me? Get me back for being a MacAlpin? When she noticed his gaze stray from her face towards her heaving breasts, she stilled. When he looked back, she saw desire there. He isn’t playing, she thought, taken aback by that knowledge she now knew for certain she needed to be much more careful. It was too dangerous to become involved—if her brothers found out she would be killed, for sure. “Ye annoy me with yer blathering,” she replied, trying to sound angry, but failing.

  “Aye perhaps, but that means I affect ye and ye think of me. That is something I treasure.”

  Aileana scowled as she did her best to ignore the heat rising in her body.

  Kameron reached up for the corner of his bonnet. “Good day tae ye, sweet lassie. See ye for the evening meal.” His gaze lingered on her mouth for a long moment. “Make sure ye are there, tonight.”

  Aileana stayed still and quiet when he turned—in a swirl of MacMahon kilt—and left. Are ye daft? She asked herself when a shiver went along her spine. Laird Kameron MacMahon is the last man on earth who should give ye goose bumps.

  ****

  When a mug of ale was put in front of him. Kameron grabbed for it. His fingers wrapped around the drinking vessel, giving them something to do. He itched to get them on Elspeth—or whatever her name was. Even still dressed in servant’s clothing, and working like one, he was having difficulty getting her off is mind.

  “Are ye fine, Laird?”

  “Aye,” Kameron replied, almost growling the word.

  Donald raised an eyebrow before giving Aileana a side-glance. “Someone gettin’ tae ye?”

  Kameron lifted his ale and drew off a long swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aye.” He tore his gaze away from Aileana’s proud posture towards Donald. “I need to find out who she is. She claims she is a servant, but the way she carries herself, I think she has a higher rank than that.”

  Donald nodded. “Perhaps she is the daughter of the dead MacAlpin laird?”

  “That thought has crossed my mind, but why would she be left alone by the bog tae divert our horses? And why, in three moons, have they not come for her? It makes no sense.” Kameron rubbed his beard and narrowed his gaze back on her. She was serving food to the people sitting at one of the trestle tables. “I’ve heard rumours that the three MacAlpin lads are nae just and kind souls, but would they deliberately put their sibling in danger? What could they gain from it?” Kameron couldn’t answer his own questions, for apart from seeing them in Edinburgh in court a couple of years ago, he had no dealings with the young MacAlpins.

  He tried to recall any gossip he might have heard about them, but apart from their feud—and stealing MacMahon stock—there was little to go on as no one was welcome into Ackergill Tower.

  “It was rumoured the late Laird Dougal MacAlpin lost the plot when his wife died. He’d treated her badly when she was alive, but guilt made him see their life together differently when she was buried,” said Donald.

  Kameron snorted at the note so unusual story—death had a way of clouding how things really were.

  “The Laird reportedly pined for her and shunned everyone else—even his four children.”

  “Aye, I’ve heard gossip about the children,” Kameron said as he rubbed his beard, recalling the information. “I’ve seen the sons with the Laird while in Auld Reekie, but I’ve nae seen the daughter.”

  “I dinnae think many have, Laird,” said Angus.

  Kameron tried to remember what he had heard. Alban MacAlpin, the oldest, was built like a strong bull, but he was unsure of the man’s temperament. The middle child, Donnan, was supposed to be a hot head and never used his brain before acting—it was wise to stay away from him. Druce, the youngest male, was supposed to be as cunning as a fox and just as sly. There wasn’t much circulating about the daughter, Aileana, not even her age. She was rarely seen as it was rumoured her father didn’t want her to wed because he wanted to keep control of her dowry.

  His eyes narrowed on her again. Could she be Aileana MacAlpin? It might serve him well to try to find out. If she was, he imagined there would be a lot of unsettled people in the MacAlpin clan now. He picked up his ale, the jug smooth in his hand. He looked down at it and had an idea. “Dae any of ye men fancy an ale in the local tavern?”

  Fergus nodded. “Aye, I’ll ne’er say nae tae an ale.” His eyes strayed towards Aileana. “Any reason why?”

  “Aye, and ye well ken what, Fergus. If I ken she is Aileana MacAlpin, we’ll have planning on what tae dae with her,” he searched her out again. His gut tightened when he saw a young man, who she served, grab her behind and she playful squatted his hand away. Kameron tore his gaze away before he smashed the smile off the young man’s face. “Come, let’s go.”

  From the other end of the hall, Aileana watched, from under her lashes as Kameron and his men stood and left the room. As Kameron past her, he flicked a quick glance in her direction, but said nothing. By the look on his face, there was something serious going on.

  Chapter 6

  The Drovers-Local Tavern

  Along with a couple of his men, Kameron entered the local tavern, The Drovers. Spotting an empty space, he lifted his leg over and straddled the wooden bench. Once they were seated, he scanned the crowded inn. If there was information to be had, it was here, with the loose tongues of men with ale in their bellies. “Call us a round, Donald.” He flipped a couple of coins towards him, not wanting to communicate with the landlord or serving wenches. He just wanted to listen and observe.

  While their jugs were being filled, he flicked a glance towards the far side of the tavern, towards the high table—a table reserved for those who wanted their egos pampered and had coin to waste. Some MacAlpin clan were there. They were so drunk, they failed to notice them slip in—a careless mistake after their massacre on his land. He tore his gaze away, not willing to engage them. He needed information about Elspeth first, then he and his men might enjoy a little retaliation.

  He glanced at Fergus when he nudged his leg. “MacAlpin boys are in, enjoying themselves.”

  “Aye, so it seems.” Kameron gave them a side-glance. “Dae ye ken any of them?”

  His men took small, discreet looks.

  Donald leaned forward. “I think the one with the red hair,” he motioned with his chin, “is one of the young MacAlpin boys.”

  Kameron made a low-key assessment, before his lip suddenly twitched up into the briefest of grins. He had the same colour hair as Elspeth. Although he needed more evidence, he was sure she was Aileana MacAlpin, daughter of the late Laird Dougal MacAlpin. He looked again. “Which one, dae ye know?”

  Donald’s wrinkled face screwed up even more. “I’m unsure, but I think it’s the middle one, Donnan.”

  Kameron gave a brief nod. “The hot head?”

  “Aye.”

  Fergus put his jug of ale down. “Fiery like his hair.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t make any trouble,” Kameron said, his eyes trained on the man, “I just want to find out if he’s lost his sister, or anything relating tae the attack the other night.”

  “Dae ye think he knows who ye are, Laird?”

  Kameron shrugged. “I’ve only seen him in Auld Reekie with his father, but as Laird Dougal MacAlpin didnae like our clan, there was tae much of a distance tae be introduced.”

  “Well that makes our job here easier,” muttered Donald as he picked up his ale.

  “Hopefully
,” said Kameron as he took a small swig of his drink, not wanting alcohol to fuzzy his brain.

  As Kameron opened the wooden door to re-enter the inn after the call of nature, someone bashed into him. “Hey, steady. Watch were yer going, laddie,” he said light-heartedly as he righted himself. When he realised it was Donnan MacAlpin, he tensed, and didn’t fail to notice the two men who flanked him. They were drunk, but that could make them more reckless.

  Donnan expelled his words in a rush of anger. “I’m no laddie.” He squared his shoulders and clenched his hands into fists.

  Fergus, who had been with Kameron outside for protection, stepped between them. “No need of that now. Accidents happen.”

  Donnan’s jawline tautened, flexing in anger at the men. “Then, this beast,” he looked up and down Kameron, “needs tae step out of my way.”

  Kameron bit down on his building anger. It would be no good to fight with the up-start, although his men were sober and Donnan’s weren’t, they were outnumbered. He stepped to the side.

  Donnan started to move before stopping. His eyes narrowed. “Are ye MacMahons?”

  Kameron noticed Fergus tense. His gaze flicked to his men, who were still seated but watching what was going on. They had placed their hands on their weapons.

  “What if we are?” said Fergus, standing shoulder to shoulder with Kameron.

  Donnan laughed aloud, so much so that Kameron thought the man would pee himself. He waited—tensely—until Donnan finished and made a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Something funny?” Fergus said. He moved nearer to Donnan until Kameron placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

  “Now, let us leave the man go, and we’ll carry on drinking our ale, enjoying this eve,” said Kameron, his focus on Donnan, but aware of where the other MacAlpin men were.

  Donnan eyed the man in front of him. His focus was blurry—he’d been trying to drink away the insults his older brother had given him about his stupid sister—so although he was being bolshie. He didn’t want to fight the beast of a man who stood in front of him, but he wouldn’t let him be disrespectful either. “Aye, that’s a good idea. Now move, I need tae take a piss.” He barged past Kameron. When he failed to make the beast sidestep out of his way, he paused, pretended he hadn’t intended to knock him sideward. “By the way, when ye arrive back at Calder Castle, ask that Laird of yers if he has lost anything lately.” When his men behind him sniggered, he puffed out his chest. It was good to wind the MacMahons up—they didn’t come face to face often.