The Highlander Who Loved Me

by Adrienne Basso

  “She couldn’t possibly have slept through all this mayhem,” James commented. “Have someone fetch her.”

  It took Joan nearly an hour to answer his summons. By then, James had drunk Davina’s medicinal dram and several tankards of ale. The pain in his arm had finally dulled, but his wits remained sharp.

  Joan entered the great hall and strolled regally toward them, her maid trailing dutifully behind her. She waited while the servant cleaned the bench of soot, then perched on the edge of it, crossed her ankles, and arranged the skirt of her gown artfully over her legs.

  She was dressed in a formal silk gown that matched the color of her eyes. The neck and sleeves were intricately embroidered with gold threads. There was a long, white silk veil and a jewel-encrusted gold circlet upon her head. Her hair was neatly plaited and pinned atop her head. She was, in truth, the very picture of a wealthy noblewoman.

  She was dressed in feminine splendor more suited to a social gathering. No wonder it had taken her so long to make an appearance!

  She made no inquiries as to their welfare, nor asked to know what had occurred. Her composure was practiced to the extent that it almost seemed false.

  James felt an almost overwhelming urge to grab her by the arm and pull her to her feet, but he refrained. He glanced over at his brother, noting by Malcolm’s annoyed expression that his brother held with a similar notion.

  Yet neither would act upon it. They had been raised to respect and revere women. No matter their character.

  James took a sip of his ale and regarded Joan steadily for a long moment. “’Tis good of ye to finally join us, Joan. I assume that ye suffered no ill effects from the fire?”

  “I am fine.” She let out a dramatic sigh and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Badly shaken, of course, but unharmed.”

  “Truly?” Malcolm drawled. “Ye appear quite calm. Aye, calm and dressed as though ye’re attending court.”

  Joan bristled and sat straighter. “Would ye have preferred that I come in my nightclothes, Sir Malcolm?”

  Malcolm glared, but Joan seemed unaffected by the taunt. She met his gaze unflinchingly.

  “No one recognizes the man who attacked James,” Malcolm said. “We want ye to also view the body to see if he is known to ye.”

  Joan shuddered with maidenly distress. “I’d prefer not to do something so gruesome.”

  Malcolm’s expression narrowed. “It’s not a request, milady.”

  Joan’s lips firmed. “If ye command it, then I will gaze upon the corpse, though if others cannae identify him, there is no earthly reason why I would know him.”

  “Ye’ve been here longer than we have, and therefore have had more exposure to the locals,” James said.

  Annoyance tightened Joan’s delicate features. “I take little notice of the underlings and servants. If pressed, I doubt I could identify more than one or two of them.”

  “The body is over here,” Malcolm said.

  Joan swayed slightly as she stood. Malcolm’s hand reached out to steady her, but she shrugged it off and took her maid’s arm. The maid licked her bottom lip and watched Joan nervously as they stood over the body.

  “I’ve never seen the poor sod before,” Joan declared, making the sign of the cross.

  “And yer maid?” Malcolm asked sharply.

  The servant turned so pale she looked ready to drop to the floor. “I dinnae know the lad,” she warbled.

  The pair made their way back to the table. Joan sank gracefully onto the bench and cast a regal eye upon them all.

  “Ye dinnae seem overly concerned about the fire or the attack,” Malcolm observed.

  “Nonsense!” Joan looked between them with astonishment. “I am deeply distressed. Forgive me, Sir Malcolm, if I do not display the hysterical, female anguish ye expect, but I believed such behavior would be unwanted as well as unhelpful.”

  “Can ye think of any reason someone would want to hurt James and Davina?” Malcolm asked.

  “We all have enemies, do we not? My survival depends on knowing those who wish me harm. I have neither the time nor the inclination to concern myself with people who might have reason to harm my cousin.” Joan’s impassive expression shifted. “No matter how much the very idea of it distresses me.”

  James looked at Joan’s eyes, searching for signs of treachery or deceit. But he saw nothing. She hid her true feelings well.

  “Well, someone sent the lad,” Malcolm said dryly.

  “Unfortunately, the only person who could answer yer questions is dead. Perhaps next time, James, ye’ll not be so quick to kill,” Joan commented, her tone shrewish.

  James went very still. “Is that a warning, Joan?”

  “Dinnae be ridiculous.” She flushed and turned away, the first break in her facial armor. “I’m only reminding ye that it would be sensible to remain on guard.”

  “I thank ye fer yer concern,” James said sarcastically. “Now, if ye have no further need of me, I will return to my bed.”

  “Nay. Davina and I will be using it fer what is left of the night,” James said.

  Joan’s face scrunched in horror. “Where will I sleep if ye take my chamber?”

  “Ye can have the east corner of the great hall,” James decided. “I’ll have Colin string a line of rope and hang some blankets fer privacy.”

  “Blankets? ’Tis unthinkable.” In full fury, Joan straightened like a queen and turned to Davina. “How can ye treat me so unkindly?”

  Davina’s lips tightened. “James needs to rest in a proper bed. Our chamber reeks of smoke. We cannae stay there fer the night.”

  “Then take Malcolm’s bed,” Joan said, her voice rising another octave.

  “Malcolm sleeps in the barracks,” Davina replied. “I cannae go there and I must stay at James’s side to make certain his wound does not fester and bring on a fever.”

  “Those are my linens on the mattress!”

  Davina’s lips grew tighter. “I’ll make certain they are washed.”

  Annoyance flickered across Joan’s features and she did little to hide it. “Clearly, I am to be given no choice in the matter,” she said tartly.

  “None at all,” James responded cheerfully, the effects of the ale finally catching up to him. “Of course, if ye are displeased with the accommodations, I can provide an escort to yer husband’s castle.”

  James did not imagine the sudden fear that shone in Joan’s eyes. Davina must have seen it also. She came to her cousin’s side and placed a comforting arm on her shoulder.

  “Ye must forgive James. We are all tired and out of sorts,” she said, shooting him a reprimanding look.

  “No matter. I am well used to the cruelty of men,” Joan hissed. “I must gather some things from my chamber. Am I free to leave?”

  “Good night,” James said dismissively.

  Lips thin with displeasure, Joan cast him a final glance of disdain as she made her way out of the hall.

  Davina sighed. “I fear she will spend the next few days sulking.”

  “Mayhap that will prompt her to leave,” James grumbled.

  Malcolm’s mouth drew into a conspiratorial line. “Ye could always send a message to her husband.”

  “Nay!” Davina’s eyes widened in distress. “I agree that Joan is difficult and occasionally unpleasant. But I’ve seen the bruises she tries to hide. Her husband’s brutality cannae be excused, no matter what her behavior. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I deliberately placed her in harm’s way.”

  “Dinnae worry, love. We’ll not be putting Joan out.” James stretched out his wounded arm and let out an exaggerated groan. “My arm is starting to pain me. Do ye have any more of that dram ye and Colleen concocted?”

  “I’ll get some.” With a worried look, Davina hurried from the great hall.

  James turned to his brother the moment they were alone. “If we died, who would inherit Torridon Keep?” James asked.

  Malcolm shrugged. “I dinnae know th
e legalities. When ye married Davina, ye gained an equal claim on the property. If she died before birthing an heir, it would be harder fer ye to keep the land, but not impossible.”

  “But if we both perished?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I suppose the land would revert to the Armstrongs.”

  “That has to be at the root of all this,” James insisted.

  “A part of me agrees with ye, but then I look around.” Malcolm lifted his arm, swinging it in a wide, encompassing circle. “This keep has been neglected fer decades. It will take far more coin to put it to rights than can ever be earned back from working this land or raising sheep.”

  Frustration swirled in James’s gut. Malcolm was right—there was nothing of obvious value here. Yet someone was prepared to kill for it.

  He needed to find out why before they succeeded.

  Chapter Twenty

  As he stood alone in his bedchamber dressing for a morning ride on the southern borders, James pondered all that had happened in the two weeks since the fire. Or rather, all that hadn’t happened. There had been no further mishaps; all had been quiet—almost too quiet.

  Then again, he and Malcolm had been constantly vigilant, shoring up the keep’s defenses, riding the borders daily, training with the McKenna guard. Davina went nowhere without an escort, even inside the keep, though it was usually Colleen or Colin who trailed her steps while she was within the walls of the keep.

  James belted his tunic, added two dirks, picked up his sword, and left the bedchamber. The smell of burnt wood lingered in his nostrils as he hurried down the newly built wooden staircase, knowing his plans to replace it with stone would have to wait until he could scrape together the coin to pay a stonemason.

  There was so much that needed his attention; ’twas daunting at times to think of how long and how costly it would be to set the keep to rights. It was also yet another reason why he could not understand how anyone would be eager to possess this dwelling and these lands.

  The one bright spot—aside from having Davina at his side day and night—was the people. He had expected resistance, suspicion, possibly outright defiance to his rule, but they had bowed to his command with good humor and hard work. He believed a large part of that was due to their affection for Davina, yet also surmised they were astute enough to realize that the improvements being made would benefit them all.

  The handful of soldiers at the keep were eager to prove their worth and earn a place among his guard. James was even more cautious with them, making certain his own men outnumbered them three to one whenever they were on the practice field.

  “Sir James!” Colin called to him the moment he entered the great hall. “I’ll tell Cook that ye are ready to break yer fast.”

  James peered around the hall at the few inhabitants enjoying their morning meal. Davina was not among them.

  “Where’s my wife?” James asked when Colin returned with a tray of food.

  “Lady Davina is in the bailey. Shall I summon her?”

  “Nay. I’m leaving to patrol the southern borders.”

  “May I ride with ye today?” Colin asked hopefully. “I promise not to be a bother.”

  The lad had blossomed in the weeks since their arrival. No longer timid and sullen, he had proven himself to be an eager, hardworking lad. James fully intended to reward his diligence by making him a squire, but he was waiting until he had the time to devote to training the lad.

  “Not today, Colin. But soon,” James promised, ruffling the lad’s hair affectionately. “I shall rely upon ye to watch over my lady while I am gone.”

  Still standing, James quickly gulped his oatcakes and washed it down with a tankard of ale. The ale tasted sour and he made a mental note to speak to the brewer later today. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, James quit the great hall.

  Just as Colin had told him, James found Davina in the bailey with several of the other women. He puzzled at the piles of ashes, sieves, rags, and large iron pots of boiling liquid, then realized they were making soap. Instead of shouting instructions from a respectable distance as most ladies were wont to do, Davina was in the thick of it, toiling alongside the other women.

  Her face was red and glowing from her exertions, yet the sight of her always brought a skip of excitement to James’s heart. I must be completely daft if watching a woman standing over a steaming cauldron of boiling lye leaves me weak-kneed, he thought, shaking his head ruefully.

  “I’ll be gone most of the morning,” he called out to Davina.

  She turned toward him and lifted her arm, shading her eyes from the sun. “Ye’ll be taking an escort?” Davina asked, lines of worry etched in her brow.

  “Aye, four of our best men.”

  She nodded with approval and returned to her work. His step was light when he walked to the stables. His horse was saddled and the men he had chosen were mounted and ready. As they rode through the gates, Malcolm waved from the practice field. James saluted his brother, acknowledging the reason he felt confident leaving the keep was because Malcolm would be there to protect it. To protect Davina.

  The morning stretched out before him, beckoning James with the promise of sunshine. He rode hard, the four guardsmen at his back. All around him he could see the signs of spring, bursting forth in buds of green. The air was fresh, the sun warm. For the first time since the fire, the scowl on his brow relaxed.

  All was quiet, with no signs of trouble. When they reached the jagged outcropping of rocks that marked the southern borders, James reined in his horse. “We’ll give the mounts a cool drink and a bit of a rest before turning back,” he told the guard.

  Dismounting, James walked to a small grove of trees, nestled in the valley between two hills. A stream flowed through the middle, the winking rays of the sun reflected through the young, delicate leaves. Pungent heather dotted the hillside. All was peaceful, except for the sound of the rushing water. ’Twas one of the rare spots of the estate that could claim real beauty and James took a moment to savor it.

  Throat parched, he knelt at the edge of the stream and scooped up a handful of the cold, clear liquid. He reached for another, but stilled when a glittering flash caught his eye.

  My God!

  James leaned closer, almost losing his balance and tumbling headfirst into the stream. Heart pounding, he pushed his hand deep into the rocks and stones, clutching as much as he could hold. He raised his hand, letting the water slip through his fingers, then stared in amazement at what remained behind, nestled in his palm.

  Have I gone daft? Taken too many blows to the head that my eyes are imaging things?

  The shock of his discovery hit him so hard James staggered to his feet. His mind rapidly turned over the events of the past five years. The attack that had broken his relationship with Davina, the isolation her family encouraged her to embrace, the fear of men and taking a husband they had fostered, the subsequent attacks on her—and him—since she left Armstrong Castle and the bosom of her family.

  Someone had not wanted her to return to this small estate and her inheritance. It had made little sense—until now. James drew a ragged breath and closed his fist firmly over the evidence he held in his palm.

  He finally knew why someone wanted Torridon Keep badly enough to kill for it.

  Davina entered the keep with a strong feeling of satisfaction. Her hands were chafed by the cold and hard work, but their hours of toil had produced enough soap to last through the spring. All she need do now was to decide where in the storeroom to keep it.

  She moved through the great hall, down to the kitchen. A small fire was banked in the hearth, but the room was empty. Cook was obviously attending to other duties, but would likely return soon.

  Davina easily found her way into the storeroom, pleased to note the shelves were stocked with a wide variety of food. In addition to several barrels of salted fish and meat, a fresh haunch of venison hung from a large beam in the coldest part of the cellar, the remaining bounty from yesterday’s hunt.<
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  As Davina looked about the room, a glimmer of memory invaded. Back to a time when she’d been a little girl, probably no older than Lileas. It had been a dreary, rainy day and she and several other children were playing a favorite game of hide and seek.

  Davina had been daring that day, going into the forbidden storeroom to hide, when her father suddenly appeared. Worried that she would be scolded for disobeying, she sunk behind a barrel of oats. Holding her breath, she waited for what seemed like a very long time. Fearing she was missing all the fun, she had timidly poked her head around the barrel and witnessed an amazing sight.

  Spurred by this long forgotten memory, Davina lit a candle and moved to the spot where her father had stood. She reached behind the various jugs and baskets on the shelf, running her fingers slowly over the wall, just as her father had done.

  Suddenly, her hand caught on a piece of metal jutting out of the stone. She lifted the candle higher for a closer look.

  “’Tis a lever,” she whispered in surprise.

  She tugged on the mechanism; it didn’t move. Determined, she pulled harder. Once, twice. On the third try there was a click and a narrow section of the wall separated. Amazed, Davina pushed and it slowly creaked open. She took a half step forward, her flickering candle creating eerie shadows against the stone.

  Expecting to see a hidden chamber, she instead found herself looking down a narrow spiral of stone steps. Unable to resist, she went down a few. The air was damp and musty, the walls glistening with moisture. She only intended to go down a few more, but each step pulled at her curiosity and she’d descend deeper.

  At last she reached the bottom. She looked up, trying to judge how far she had come down, but saw only darkness. Excited at what she might discover, Davina held her candle high. The chamber in which she stood was oblong in shape, narrowing at the far end to complete darkness.

  She batted away the cobwebs that clung to her face and proceeded through the chamber, this time finding what she expected—a tunnel!

  Her excitement grew. Was this an escape tunnel? Or perhaps a secret passageway into the keep? Anxious to tell James of her discovery, Davina turned to make her way back.