Highland Messenger
Scottish Strife Series
Book 4
by
Dana D’Angelo
Copyright Information
Copyright © 2016
http://www.dana-dangelo.com
All rights reserved. This book, in its entirety or in parts, may not be reproduced in any format without expressed permission. Scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book through the Internet or through any other type of distribution or retrieval channel without the permission of the author is illegal and is punishable by law. Please obtain only legitimate electronic versions of this book and do not engage in or encourage piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
The characters, places and events portrayed in this collection of fictional works are a result of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real events, locales, or people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
Note: The background cover image is a derivative work of “Langdale Pikes” by Richard Walker, which is licensed under CC by 2.0.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Thank You Gift
Dedication
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Glossary
More Titles By Dana D’Angelo
Chapter 1
Scotland, 1560
“We are almost home, Rab,” Mairead MacGregon said, shooting a worried look over at her escort. “Can ye now ride ahead, and get the stablemaster? I dinnae think the mare can continue any longer.” Her horse had injured itself several miles back. Each step it took made her wince, but as much as she pleaded, the guard had refused to leave her side. There was no way that she could ride the horse home. Her only choice was to get off the steed, and walk at an excruciatingly slow pace beside it.
“Ye ken that I cannae leave ye, Mairead,” he said, frowning. “Your brother will have my head if I do.”
“Please,” she begged. “The castle is up ahead. Just get the stablemaster, and bring him here. I’ll wait on this path until ye come back.”
The guard looked at her injured mount, and then to the fortress in the distance.
Seeing his conflict, she forged ahead. “I dinnae have my sister’s knowledge about horses, but I ken that the injury is causing it undo strain.”
Rab let out a rush of air. “Fine, but ye must promise me that ye willnae move from this spot.”
She nodded, relieved that he was finally relenting. She learned long ago that when something was important to her, she needed to persist.
As she predicted, the wait wasn’t long. After a few minutes, the guard raced back with another rider at his side. But then her brows furrowed when she saw that Rab had brought the stableboy. The youth was a year or so older than she, and he appeared young and inexperienced when compared to his master.
Before she had a chance to inquire about the whereabouts of the older man, the guard grunted. “Willy was the only one that I could find.”
The stableboy slipped off his steed, and pulled a sack from the saddle. “What happened?” he asked, his boyish face flushed with concern.
Glancing at the mare, she saw that it had lifted a hoof as if to favor it. She made a sympathetic noise with her tongue. Placing a hand on its nose, she ran a soothing palm along the snout.
“I believe the horse somehow got a pebble stuck in its shoe.” She reluctantly handed the reins over to the youth.
“Aye, of course,” he said, his lips compressed in concentration as he assessed the problem. “I’ve seen this before.”
Relief flooded her at hearing his words. Normally with issues like this, the stablemaster took care of the problems. But judging by Willy’s calm demeanor, he appeared to know how to help the poor creature.
He moved over to the left side of the mare and dropped the sack to the ground. Then placing a hand on the beast’s shoulder, he skimmed his other hand down the leg, moving toward the foot. The steed was in too much pain, and yielded to the ministrations of the stableboy. Willy then positioned the foot firmly between his knees.
Mairead saw a stone wedged between the natural depression of the foot. It would have been impossible for her to remove the pebble on her own. The stableboy took a pick from his sack, and began to scrape along the heel and toe of the shoe until finally the foreign object became dislodged.
Willy dropped the leg, and gave the horse a friendly pat. He looked up at her. “She’ll require a wee rest, but she’ll be all right. Ye can ride my mount while I take this mare back tae the stable.”
She nodded, relieved. But then the relief she experienced evaporated. Her worry about the horse was over since she was convinced that it was in good hands. But now a new complication assailed her, making her reluctant to go back to her brother’s castle. Rory’s wife had taken over the running of the household, and Mairead no longer had the same level of control. When the opportunity to see the wool merchant in the village arose, she jumped at the chance, assuring the steward that she would handle the sale of the merchandise. Now the task was completed, she would have to go back to the mundane routines of the castle…
“Mairead?” Rab said, reminding her of his presence. He was starting to get impatient, and she allowed him to help her on the horse. Whether or not the routines were boring, the chores still had to be done.
They thundered into the courtyard, and headed straight to the stable.
“Mairead,” Kila MacGregon called out. Walking into the stable, her rapid steps caused the straw on the ground to stir. “I’ve been watching for your return, but ye took forever.” She was out of breath and her face was flushed. A strand of hair fell over her mouth, and she impatiently brushed it aside.
“Ye could have accompanied me,” she reminded her sister.
She waved her hand in the air, dismissing her words. “Ye are in sae much trouble, Mairead,” she said, her tone dramatic. She clasped her hands in front of her, and pressing her lips together, she waited for Mairead to question her further.
The grim look on her sister’s visage made her pause. “Did Rory learn that I went tae the village?”
“Never mind that,” she said. “Your problem is far worse than getting lectured about going tae the village.”
“What could be worse than that?” Mairead asked, bracing herself. Kila wasn’t a reliable source of information, she reminded herself. There was no use in making any conclusions until she knew all the facts. Kila declared some sort of disaster on a daily basis, and to her, everything was either devastating or exhilarating. There was nothing in between.
“What tragedy has struck today?” Mairead circled around her sister, and led the horse to the stall. The stablemaster saw her approach and came over to them. Giving the steed a reassuring pat on its neck, she handed the reins over to the man, and started to walk toward the stable exit.
“If ye ken what happened ye wouldnae be sae calm.” She gave Mairead a bleak look. Then turning her head, she glanced at the guard who was rubbing down his horse. Kila lowered her voice as if she was afraid that he might overhear her. �
�Rory was talking about an alliance between our clan and Clan MacTyrnell.”
“Is that all?” she laughed. “For a moment there ye had me a wee bit worried. Rory’s always trying tae forge alliances with one clan or another. He’s the chief after all.” She shook her head. “I fail tae see how this is a cause for alarm.”
Kila’s hand shot out and gripped Mairead’s sleeve. “Dinnae ye see? This alliance involves marriage,” she said, her eyes going round. She gave Mairead an unwavering stare. “A marriage requires a wife, sae that would only leave ye and me. And since ye are the eldest…”
“Nay,” Mairead folded her arms over her chest, rejecting the idea. “Rory wouldnae make marriage arrangements without consulting me first.”
“When mother died, we all grieved, and there was nay talk of marriages. But now Rory is considering it.”
“I’m sure that ye are mistaken,” Mairead said, prying her sister’s hand from her sleeve. “I refuse tae believe that Rory would throw me at the mercy of any man. I think that he would at least give me a choice in the matter.”
“I dinnae think that he’ll give ye any choice.” Kila took in a deep inhalation. “I heard him say that he’ll discuss the marriage arrangements when the war is finished.”
Her words suspended heavily in the air, and Mairead felt a slight chill wash over her. Rory was the clan chief, and what he said was the law. Although their father was still living, he had little authority or influence over the decisions that their brother made. She had already seen this play out on numerous occasions.
“What are ye going tae do?” Kila asked.
“What do ye mean what am I going tae do?” Mairead said, even though she was having a difficult time in shaking her uneasiness. “We cannae jump tae conclusions. Until I hear it from Rory, I’ll have tae reserve my judgment.” She twisted her lips as another worry cropped up in her mind. “Was there anything else that he said?”
“Nay, nothing else, but I ken that ‘tis auld William MacTyrnell who’s being considered in the alliance,” she said, twisting her lips in distaste.
“From what I understand, the laird is a widower, and has an eight year old son.”
“Aye, he’s a widower of two wives,” she corrected. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shuddered. “I heard that he caused the demise of those poor women.”
“Kila! I dinnae want ye tae spread rumors about the man.”
“Well, there might be some truth in it,” she said, her voice sullen.
“’Tis absurd that the man would have killed his wives,” Mairead said. While gossip had a tendency to contain grains of truth, she would never admit this to her sister. “Besides, I dinnae think the man is that auld. Likely when it comes time for us tae wed, our husbands will be aulder than us,” she added.
“Ye can believe what ye like,” she said, flicking her wrist in the air as if to spurn her observation. “But I prefer a young husband.”
“Age disnae make a man better or worse. Besides, whatever fate Rory has in store for me, I’ll trust that it would be for the guid of the clan.”
“The guid of the clan?” Her arms fell to her side. She leaned toward her, her brows snapping together in exasperation. “We arenae cattle tae be traded tae the highest bidder! I cannae believe that ye would take this news with such lightness. Do ye even have any feelings in that heart of yours? This is your life, Mairead. Why do I have tae remind ye of this? The MacTyrnell is an auld warrior,” she said stressing the last words. “All we ken about him is that he’s visited Tancraig Castle a handful of occasions. Not once has he ever conversed with either of us. Ye cannae love —” She stopped abruptly, and stared at Mairead.
“What?” she asked, trying to fight the irritation that rose to her chest.
“Blane Cunningtoun might help ye. I think he’s in love with ye, and —”
“Blane disnae love me,” she denied, quickly disregarding the idea.
“I’m certain that ye are wrong,” Kila said, a stubborn gleam entering into her eyes. “He must have feelings for ye. After all, ye are one of the bonniest lassies in the shire. What man wouldnae be in love with ye? I recall when Rory banished Blane from the castle, he was verra upset.”
The image of Blane’s angry face flashed through her mind. “That was months ago,” she said, letting out a rush of air. She started to move so that Kila couldn’t observe the troubled expression on her countenance. Every time she thought about Blane, she felt her heart constrict. Since the altercation between the two men, no one had contact with him. It saddened her that she could no longer see his beloved face within the confines of Tancraig Castle.
“I also think that ye have feelings for him,” she said, keeping pace with her. When Mairead quickened her stride, Kila tugged at her arm, forcing her to stop. “Am I right?”
She shook off her sister’s grip on her arm. “I’m nae certain I ken what ye mean,” she lied. She once felt something for Blane, but that was a long time ago, a time when she was silly and young.
“Well, I’m certain that his feelings for ye are of a romantic nature. In fact, he’s likely miserable because he cannae be with ye.”
“That’s impossible,” she said, although her sister’s insistence was starting to create cracks in her convictions. She paused. “Do ye really think that he cares for me in that way?”
“I’m verra observant. I’m thinking that if he was interested in some other lass, he would have married her long ago.”
Mairead frowned at the consideration. Her sister made a valid point. He had every opportunity to wed the many lassies that looked his way. Could it be true that Blane harbored feelings for her all this time? And if he loved her, he would help her out. A plan started to formulate in her head. Marrying Blane would be her way out of the unwanted nuptials. “Ye might be right, Kila. I’ll write him a letter, and have the messenger take it tae him.”
“But —”
“We’ll speak later,” she interrupted. Reaching over, she patted her sister affectionately on her cheek. “I need tae think about what I want tae say tae him.” Before Kila could respond, Mairead hurried out of the stable.
Chapter 2
Mairead laid out the quill, ink and parchment. Lifting up her pen, she began to write, but she didn’t get far. She stared down at the blank sheepskin, and expelled a deep breath of frustration.
“How does one who has never been in love compose a love letter?”
Her mind drifted over to the subject of her letter. Blane was almost seven years older than she was. He was nice and always engaged with her when her older brothers brushed her aside. But the summer that she turned sixteen years old, she saw a transformation in him. Blane was no longer the scrawny lad that showed up at their home twelve years earlier. He was now a man.
“I require more inspiration,” she decided. Her eyes fixed on the chest that rested at the foot of the bed. “And I ken exactly where I can find it.”
Walking over to the ornate chest, she opened the lid and slipped her hand inside. Her fingers slid past woolen fabric until it encountered a small wooden box. Pulling it out, she carefully cradled it in her palm. She brought it over to the table that sat underneath the window. Lifting the cover revealed a white stone that was streaked with yellowed cracks. As she held the stone, the memory of that day came rushing back like always. Several years ago when Blane went off on an expedition with her brothers, she had asked him to bring her back a token. She always requested a boon from her brothers since she couldn’t accompany them. To her, having objects from the outside world allowed her a chance to dream. Sometimes her brothers would bring items back from their travels, but most of the time they forgot. When Blane returned she was surprised when he presented her with a rock that he had found on the Scottish shoreline. As she lifted the stone in the air, a ray of light struck it, causing the pebble to sparkle like a jewel. She traced the lines that streaked across the polished surface. The ocean tides had tumbled over the rock for centuries, rendering it smooth
and round. Her hand closed over it, its weight familiar and comforting. She had stored it in her chest, and had almost forgotten about its existence. In reality it was just a common pebble, although she knew that she could never throw it away.
She set the rock on the table in front of her. But when she dipped her quill into the ink and started to write, she hesitated again.
“What should I say?” she murmured to herself, absently brushing the stiff feather tip underneath her chin. She couldn’t very well declare her love for him without preamble. “Should I tell him that I love him, and want him tae marry me?” But this didn’t feel right. In fact it sounded foolish even as she posed the question aloud. She frowned. Of course she loved Blane, but did she really want him to be tied to her? In all honesty if she had a choice she would remain unmarried. She was content living at Tancraig Castle where she was surrounded by the people she loved. And aside from venturing outside the castle compound, she was free to do what she wanted. If she married, she might lose much of her freedom. However an alliance with Blane might be the key to maintaining her independence. While her brothers enjoyed lecturing her, Blane did no such thing. He even stopped to listen to her opinions every once in a while. Perhaps that was what endeared him to her. He had always treated her with respect. But he was no longer the lad that she knew. He was a man — a man who was attractive and admired. When she walked with him through the enclosure, she pretended not to notice the admiring gazes that women cast his way. And since she had the command of Rory’s household, she had often heard the womenfolk speak about him with reverence and longing. Unfortunately for them he wasn’t interested or available to any of them. At one time he was charming and approachable, but that all changed when the English murdered his family. Since then he had turned hard and unsmiling. And when Rory banished him from the castle… She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on the incident. There was so much anger that day.
“Thinking about the past willnae help me compose this letter,” she told herself sternly. She raised the cool pebble and cradled it in her palm. What if Kila was right, and Blane harbored amorous feelings toward Mairead? And if this was the case, then all would be well. The idea lifted her spirits in an instant. Of all people, Blane would understand her dilemma and champion her. It occurred to her that she just had to write the truth.
Highland Messenger (Scottish Strife Series Book 4) Page 1