Highland Redemption: A Duncurra Legacy Novel

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Oh, I agree. I can’t imagine not having a name for my horse.”

  “Do you have a horse?” asked Tomas.

  Her face lit up. “Yes. A black mare. I named her Mab, after the fairy queen.”

  “Really?” Tomas was shocked. “I named my first pony Mab.”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “Nay, I’m serious. An older girl in the clan had told me fairy stories and Mab was always in them.”

  “What an odd coincidence. I’ve never heard of another horse named Mab. Even when I named her, some of my more superstitious clansmen warned me that I might be tempting the fairies to work some mischief.”

  Tomas laughed, “I never thought about that. I just really liked the name when I was a wee lad.” His grin broadened as another memory came to him.

  “What amuses you so?”

  “I was just remembering that I liked the name so much, I wanted my parents to name my baby sister Mab.”

  She laughed and Tomas delighted in the sound. It enveloped him in a sweet warmth.

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  Damn. Tomas had inadvertently revealed more than he wished anyone at Cotharach to know. He’d have to tread carefully. “I have two brothers and a sister.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “All younger.”

  “Are any of them married? Do you have nieces and nephews who are pining for Uncle Tomas? For that matter, are you married?”

  “Nay, I’m not married and neither are any of them. They’re all much younger. My youngest brother is twelve. My sister’s the oldest of them and she’s but eighteen.”

  “My age. Exactly how much older are you?”

  He chuckled. He had answered this battery of questions before. Young women at court, anxious to find husbands were no less obvious. “I’m twenty-six, my lady.”

  “Eight years between you and your next oldest sibling. My goodness.”

  “I was adopted.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “And your father? Is he one of Laird Carr’s guardsmen?”

  “Nay.” Tomas said no more. A discussion about his parents was best avoided and the easiest way to do that was to change the subject. “Who taught ye to play chess?”

  She smiled sadly. “My mother started to teach me when I was a very little girl. I learned how the pieces moved and captured other pieces. Before she died, we played some. But mostly I loved just playing with the pieces like they were dolls. I imagined them to be two royal families, with lots of children.” Vida smiled and blushed. “Mama would play that with me too sometimes. I thought it would be fun to live in a big family.”

  “Do ye not have cousins?” Tomas knew full well she did—but she might not know that.

  “I have cousins in my mother’s family. We visited them some when she was alive, but not since then.”

  “And yer father?”

  “He had an older brother who died.”

  “What about his children?”

  “My uncle didn’t have any children. At least, I don’t think he did. None that lived anyway. If he’d had children, my papa wouldn’t have become laird.”

  Tomas scowled. By all the angels, Ruthven never told her about Katherine.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Nay, lass, I’m just trying to figure out how to get out of the corner ye’ve boxed me into. Ye didn’t learn to play chess like this by pretending the pieces were dolls. Did yer da continue yer lessons?”

  “Nay. Well, I suppose in a way he did. He wanted me to learn how to read and write and do sums. So, he had our priest teach me.” A warm smile spread across her face. “Father James, was wonderful. He taught me so much more than just those basic skills, including chess. He died when I was ten and it was nearly as painful as when mama died.” She sighed. “But he was elderly and in his last year he’d become very frail. He said he was ready for the angels to lead him into paradise.”

  Tomas remembered Father James. He was exceedingly kind and Lady Katherine had adored him. Tomas had known he must have surely passed away by now, but his heart ached a little anyway. Almost without thinking, he made the sign of the cross and said a silent prayer for his soul.

  Vida had a slightly bemused look on her face. “That was kind of you.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Saying a prayer for the soul of a stranger. It was kind.”

  A stranger. Right. Tomas had to be more careful. “I…uh…I have known priests who were dear to me. And I suppose it never hurts to pray for the soul of a priest.”

  “Nay, I don’t suppose it does. But it was kind of you anyway.”

  They played in silence for a few minutes. He realized she was only three moves from checkmate and he had no way of preventing it. Then, to his surprise, she made a move that killed her chance at checkmate and created an opening for him to win. He’d seen enough of her skill so far to know she’d thrown the game intentionally.

  He frowned at her, irritated. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?” Her tone was innocent, but her eyes told a different story.

  “Put that piece back and make the move ye’d intended to make.”

  “I…I…don’t know what you mean.”

  His eyes narrowed, as his irritation shifted slowly to anger. “Don’t pretend ye don’t know what ye just did. Make the correct move. Now.”

  Her eyes grew suspiciously bright and she blinked as if trying to hold back tears. She looked down, quickly and replayed the move.

  He hadn’t intended to make her cry. But her pretending to lose was not only insulting to him, it demeaned her. One of her hands rested on the table and he covered it with his. “Lass, ye’re an extremely skilled chess player. Truly one of the best I’ve ever encountered. Don’t belittle that by intentionally losing.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just…I…most people…”

  He suspected he knew what she was trying to say. He reached out, putting a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so he could look into her eyes. “I don’t need to win to enjoy the game. I’m sorry you’ve played with people who do.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded.

  The game ended quickly, but she didn’t meet his eyes when she said checkmate.

  He knocked over his king, conceding the win. “Vida, ye’re a worthy opponent. Especially for one whose tutelage ended when ye were ten.”

  Her smile returned. “My tutelage didn’t end when I was ten. Father James was a smart man and a reasonably good chess player, but Father Michael is a master of the game and, frankly, ruthless.”

  “So, he’s the only one who can best ye?”

  She laughed outright, the warmth of it filling him again. “Aye, occasionally, but he doesn’t best me very often. You, however, are every bit as skilled.”

  “Thank ye, my lady.”

  “You agreed to call me Vida.”

  “Well then, thank you, Vida. I look forward to our next match.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Really? You’ll play with me again?”

  He grinned.

  She blushed. “Stop it. You know what I mean. You’ll play chess with me again?”

  “Of course, I will. It never pays to sit back and think one knows everything. The only way I will continue to improve my chess game is to play with people who can best me.”

  She canted her head. “I guess it’s a bit like what ye told Papa at supper, about our men. They’re skilled, but only as skilled as the men who taught them, and the only way to improve is to be exposed to new methods.”

  “Exactly. I would be doing them a disservice if I didn’t give my best when sparring. It is the only way they’ll learn. Empty victory is meaningless. And I can promise ye this, if I do eventually win a game of chess with ye, the victory will be sweet.”

  She grinned, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Don’t count on it happening anytime soon.”

  Tomas laughed. “I wouldn’t dream o
f it.”

  “Well then, Tomas, speaking of dreams, it’s getting late. I should retire.”

  “Will ye allow me to help ye up the stairs?”

  She stood and tested her ankle by bearing weight on it. Pain flashed briefly across her face, but she said, “I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Vida, ye’re going to have to stop hiding things. Ye’re ankle hurts and ye’ll do yerself no favors by bearing weight on it if ye don’t have to. Now, I’m going to ask again, will ye allow me to help ye up the stairs?”

  She blushed, but gave him a small smile and said, “Aye. Thank ye.”

  “There’s a good lass.” He scooped her into his arms and headed towards the stairs.

  Emma, who had been waiting at a discreet distance, rose, followed them, and then opened the door to Vida’s chamber so he could carry her in.

  Tomas deposited her on the bed. “I’ll leave ye in Emma’s care now. Good night, Vida.”

  “Good night, Tomas. Thank you.”

  “Ye’re very welcome. I look forward to our rematch tomorrow.”

  The look of delight on her face caused something to stir deep in his belly.

  “Until tomorrow then,” she said, her eyes shining.

  Tomas returned to the hall, found his blanket roll, and went to lay down near Drew who was already snoring. Although tired himself, the events of the day whirled through Tomas’s thoughts. He had scarcely believed his ears when Ambrose Ruthven specifically asked to train with him. Improving Ruthven’s ability to fight with a sword was the absolute last thing Tomas wanted to do and yet he’d agreed to it.

  Thinking on it now, he wasn’t sure how he would suppress the desire to run Ruthven through in the process. He grinned as he allowed himself to imagine that. If it happened, it would simply look like an accident. God knows Ruthven’s aptitude for fighting must be rusty at best. Then Tomas set those thoughts aside. He couldn’t intentionally kill a man he’d agreed to train. It would be akin to inviting someone to come for a feast and then murdering them before it was over.

  Of course, he could always just build on bad techniques rather than correcting them and teaching new ones. But even as the thought occurred to him, he knew he couldn’t do that either. His pride wouldn’t allow it. If he was going to do this, he’d have to do it right. Damn it all anyway.

  Do it right. A slow smile spread across his face as he realized that was the answer. Ruthven didn’t like to play chess with Vida because he didn’t like to lose. Tomas figured he wouldn’t want to look weak either, especially not in front of his men. Training was physically and mentally challenging, so all Tomas had to do was push him as hard as he would any other man. Tomas figured it would take no more than three sessions for Ruthven to back out. Problem solved.

  But he still couldn’t sleep. His thoughts drifted to Vida.

  She was wholly unexpected.

  He loved that she was smart, her devotion to her clan was admirable, and beautiful didn’t begin to describe her. Her coloring was striking. Dark hair, deep green eyes, and ruby lips contrasted with fair skin that pinked beautifully when she blushed. Just thinking about her stirred his desire.

  This was madness. As soon as he accomplished what they’d set out to, he wanted nothing more to do with Ambrose Ruthven, his clan, or his daughter. He only wanted to go home. He vowed to keep a little more distance between himself and Vida. He would not lose his heart to a woman he could never have.

  Chapter 5

  October 11, 1378

  Duncurra, the central Highlands

  Niall was overseeing his men as they trained on the heath beyond Duncurra’s village. He smiled, watching as Turcuil, an absolute giant of a man and the commander of Niall’s guard, yelled praise, criticism, and instructions as he paced along the rows of sparring men.

  Eventually, he came to stand beside Niall. “I’m getting too old for this.”

  Niall snorted. Turcuil was two score and sixteen, only seven years older than Niall himself. “Ye’re certainly not too old. Ye can still best every man on that field.”

  Turcuil growled. “Of course, I can. But that doesn’t mean I still have patience to teach the young eejits.”

  Niall laughed. “Ye don’t fool me. I know ye love seeing the results.”

  Turcuil chuckled. “Aye, seeing them turn into warriors is rewarding, but the process is painful sometimes.”

  They were still discussing the strengths and weaknesses of the young men in training when one of Niall’s younger guardsmen jogged towards them from the keep. Niall frowned. “Con, is something wrong?”

  “I’m not certain, Laird. A small party approaches. It appears to be Rowan returning from the royal court.”

  “I was expecting them to return about now. What concerns ye?”

  “There are only four riders, Laird.”

  Niall frowned. “Who’s missing?”

  “They’re still far enough away that I can’t be absolutely certain, but it appears that Tomas and Ethan aren’t with them.”

  Niall’s frown deepened.

  “Laird, perhaps they decided to stay for a few extra days at Brathanead,” said Turcuil.

  “It’s possible. But it wouldn’t be like Rowan to not leave a couple of men with them.”

  “Don’t borrow trouble,” cautioned Turcuil.

  “Aye. I won’t. They’ll be here soon enough and we’ll know then.”

  “Laird, Lady Katherine had asked several days ago to be notified as soon as the party was spotted returning. Shall I tell her?”

  “Nay.”

  Turcuil arched an eyebrow. “She won’t be pleased when she finds out.”

  “Maybe not, but the fact is, what she actually wanted was to be notified when Tomas was returning. And he’s not returning.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” said Turcuil.

  “All the more reason not to worry her. Con, if it becomes clear that Tomas is actually with them, ye can tell Lady Katherine. Otherwise, wait until I know what’s happened.”

  “Aye, Laird,” said Con before he turned and jogged back towards the village.

  At Turcuil’s continued look of disapproval, Niall said, “Ye know she’ll be beside herself with worry until Rowan gets here and it isn’t necessary. All that worry won’t change anything. It’s far better to be able to give her the whole story once we have it, whatever it is.”

  Turcuil shrugged. “I believe ye, thousands wouldn’t.”

  When Rowan did arrive a little over an hour later, he came directly to Niall on the training field. It was true, Tomas and Ethan weren’t with him, but thankfully they were in no danger.

  “Laird, no one was anxious to help Ambrose Ruthven, but when we considered everything, we decided Lady Katherine would not want to leave her clan in danger.”

  Niall agreed. “Ye’re right. She wouldn’t. But she is going to worry herself sick over Tomas being one of the men who stayed.” He sighed. “I need to go tell her.”

  Rowan nodded. “It’s probably not a good idea to risk her seeing me riding up to Duncurra with them, Laird. You can ride Blaze back and give him over to a stable hand. I’ll go straight to my cottage.”

  “Thank ye, Rowan. I’m sure yer wife will be glad to see ye home all the sooner.” Niall mounted the horse and was back to the keep in minutes. He entered and found his lovely wife in the midst of preparing the hall for the evening meal. They had been married for more than nineteen years and, if possible, he loved her more every day.

  “Niall, ye’re back a bit earlier than usual this evening.” She crossed the hall, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss.

  That simply wouldn’t do. He cupped her face in his hands and gave her deeper kiss, breaking it only when he heard titters of laughter from their daughter, Beitris. “That’s enough from ye, young lady,” he said in mock seriousness. “Surely ye’re neglecting some task by standing there gawking.”

  She laughed, turning back to the cloth she was spreading on a table. “All right. Go ab
out yer business, Da, and I’ll mind my own.”

  “Katherine, come with me to our chamber for a few minutes.”

  She laughed. “Niall, can’t this wait until after supper?”

  “Nay, my bonnie lass, it can’t.”

  She shrugged. “Very well. Beitris, finish seeing to things here. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Aye, Mama,” she said with a cheeky grin that was so like her mother’s. It was time he found a husband for her, but Niall simply wasn’t ready for that yet.

  “Naill?” said Katherine, stirring him from his thoughts. “Are we going to our chamber or not?”

  “Aye, we are sweetling.” He took her hand in his.

  When they reached their chamber, she was barely through the door before she asked, “What’s happened?”

  “Why do ye think something’s happened?”

  She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head.

  He shrugged. “Ye’re right. I need to tell ye something. Rowan returned today, but Tomas and Ethan did not come with him.”

  “Why not?” she asked, her voice thick with concern.

  He explained what had happened and Tomas’s decision to stay and help the Ruthvens.

  She was quiet when he had finished, appearing to consider what he’d told her. Then finally said, “He’s right. I would want to help them. They are my people. I feared my uncle would ruin the clan, but everything we’d heard over the years sounded as if things were going well enough. What do ye think?”

  “I’m proud of him. But I’m worried. Apparently, Hugh is most concerned by the blatant raids that have been occurring. He thinks, and I agree, that a neighboring clan is testing Ambrose. If they realize how weakened he really is, they’ll lay siege.”

  “Oh dear God, Niall. Nay.”

  “There’s no need to worry yet. Winter can only weaken an already struggling clan. If someone does have their eyes on Cotharach, they’ll wait until spring to lay siege. Carr warned the three of them to leave as soon as the weather breaks in February.”