Highland Vengeance (The Celtic Blood Series Book 3)

by Melanie Karsak

  “So, you’ve managed to sweet talk a pretty girl,” I said, reaching out to pat Kelpie’s neck.

  At the sound of my voice, the girl turned. She jumped a little. “My lady,” she said then gave me an awkward curtsey.

  “And how is my boy behaving?”

  “I can tell someone has spoiled him, if that’s what you mean. He seems to think he’s the only beast in the barn, always nickering for my attention.”

  “Cheating louse,” I told Kelpie, kissing him on his nose.

  “Your name, miss?”

  “Elspeth, my lady. My father is the stablemaster.”

  “Thank you for taking good care of my horse.”

  “They told me his name is Kelpie.”

  “It is.”

  The girl giggled. “I’ll keep an eye on him then, see if he shifts shapes at night into a handsome lad.”

  I laughed. “And no doubt, he’d still be nickering behind you.”

  The girl laughed.

  “If he needs anything, please let me know?”

  The girl nodded. “Of course, my lady. It’s good to see you here in the stables. Do you like horses?”

  “I do.”

  “As do I. Love them, actually. May I show you something?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll be back,” she told Kelpie, giving him a pat on the back. She set the brush down then closed the stall door behind her. Waving me along, she led me through the stables and out to the small pasture.

  “Since it’s winter, we mostly keep the horses inside, but I like to let them out a bit so they can breathe in clean air. Now, have a look,” she said then pointed to a beautiful white mare who was nosing through some tufts of grass sticking out of the snow.

  “Beautiful animal. She’s as white as snow.”

  The girl nodded. “I’m hoping to get her and Kelpie acquainted this spring. Maybe by the time you return from Thurso, I’ll have sparked a romance between the two. You have such a fine horse, my lady. I hope to get his stock intermixed.”

  “That all sounds very good. Did you say to Thurso?”

  “Of course. Once the thaw comes, of course, and you leave to join Lord Thorfinn in Thurso. Lord Macbeth told me he was going to leave the horses here.”

  I nodded. “Indeed.”

  “They don’t take to the ships well anyway. Thoughtful of Macbeth. He’s a good lord,” she said with a soft smile.

  I raised an eyebrow at her. Of course, she would admire him. That was only natural. “Very good. She’s a beautiful mare. I hope you can get a spark between her and my grumpy old warhorse.”

  The girl giggled. “He still has some fire left in him. He’s already nickered hello to her a few times. I don’t think they’ll need much convincing.”

  I grinned then cast a glance up at the sky. It was getting late. Lulach would be looking for me. “I must go. It was nice to meet you, Elspeth.”

  “And you, my lady.”

  With that, I returned to the castle. Since Macbeth was out, and Banquo was busy with his men, I decided on a quiet dinner in my chambers with Lulach and Ute. The night passed quietly. After I finally got Lulach to sleep, I lay down. After the morning’s exertions with Banquo, I was exhausted. I fell asleep immediately.

  I woke with a start, however, late into the night when I felt someone slip into bed with me. For half a moment, in my sleepy state, I thought it was Gillacoemgain. But the thought was short lived when I remembered Gillacoemgain was gone.

  Startled, I sat bolt upright.

  “My shieldmaiden sleeps,” Macbeth said, pulling me beside him.

  “You scared me.”

  “Sorry. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t think you would wake up.”

  “You men have worn me out today.”

  “Which of us is the worst?”

  “Lulach.”

  Macbeth laughed. “I must confess that it was you who startled me today. “

  “How so?”

  “Your sparring session.”

  “I needed the practice.”

  “I have a master of arms who can work with you.”

  “I’m at a disadvantage. I know few here save the servants who came from Cawdor and Banquo and Ute.”

  “Then, perhaps, you should make more of an effort to make yourself at home here. You are the Lady of Inverness now, as my mother was before you.”

  “I did meet the stablemaster and his daughter today.”

  “Yes, Samuel. Good man. He served under my father.”

  “His daughter is very knowledgeable about horses.”

  “Who now?”

  “Elspeth.”

  “I don’t recall her,” he said then rolled over and looked deeply at me, his hand resting on my stomach. “I was glad to see that you were feeling well. I was surprised you didn’t let me know you were ready.”

  “Ready? I’ve hardly seen you.”

  “We already talked about that,” he said, his hand drifting up to the tie on my dress.

  My minded drifted back to our wedding night. Things certainly had not gone as planned, and in a way, our marriage was not yet consummated. Maybe Macbeth was right to come. Maybe I had avoided telling him. Now I wasn’t sure. I guess I wanted a couple more weeks to heal, but I could manage now, I supposed.

  “You’ll need to go gently,” I whispered. My stomach churned. Nothing had been going right in this marriage so far. Now, at least, maybe we could get things on track.

  Macbeth set his lips on mine, giving me the sweetest, softest kiss. I fell into the kindness of it, recalling the visions I’d had of him, the feelings I had harbored for him before we’d met. My king. He could still be that. I just needed to let him into my heart. Setting aside my awkward feelings, I pulled off my nightdress then helped Macbeth slip off his clothes.

  I kissed him sweetly, opening my heart and mind to him. My hands slipped across his smooth back, feeling his muscles, allowing myself to enjoy his flesh. I closed my eyes and tried to relish the taste of his skin, ignoring the heady scent of incense in his hair. Andraste had shown him to me for a reason. He was my future. I had to try.

  Macbeth crawled between my legs. “I’ll go slowly. Tell me if you feel any pain.”

  I nodded.

  True to his word, Macbeth made love to me carefully. Tenderly. He rocked in and out of me slowly, kissing my lips, moving with great skill and care. But he didn’t linger long. When he finally found release, Macbeth gently pulled back then lay his head on my chest.

  “Now, finally, we are wed,” he said, entwining his fingers in mine.

  “Yes.”

  “I hope you’re happy here,” he whispered.

  “I am. I’m still finding my way.”

  “But Banquo is helping. Odd that he never mentioned he knew you.”

  “Our meeting was brief, and I was a young, silly girl. Perhaps he didn’t like me.”

  Macbeth laughed. “I find that hard to believe. The way he looks at you, it is certain that he liked you. Maybe he wanted to keep his fond memories to himself.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. Macbeth was circling the truth but was missing pieces of the puzzle. Guilt nagged at me.

  “I understand we are making plans to go to Thurso?” I said, hoping my change of subject was not too apparent.

  “When the weather clears.”

  “The north will be busy in spring. The farmers, your people, may need your help here.”

  “With what?”

  “It sometimes floods in the spring. At Cawdor—”

  “The commoners have their local thanes. We need not be worried about such small matters.”

  I chewed my lip. Gillacoemgain had not seen such troubles as too far below his concern. “If we will not be directly involved in the management of the north, what will we be busy with?”

  “Planning.”

  “Planning for what?”

  “Well, I hope you will be planning for my heir.”

  His comment made my stomach quake. “I shall d
o my best. We have taken the first step,” I said lightly, trying to hide my unsettled feelings.

  “You must take care that you don’t exert yourself too much to prevent it.”

  “Exert myself?”

  “Yes. Your play with Banquo. Don’t you think it would be wise to restrain yourself a bit? You are a new mother, after all. And a lady. It’s not proper. And when you conceive our child, you will want to take care to ensure his safety. We cannot afford any missteps or accidents.”

  “Proper is a matter of perspective. But I’ll keep it in mind, my lord,” I said, the flower of hope within me fading.

  Macbeth unlaced his hand from mine then rose. Without another word, he redressed. “Get some rest before my uncle’s son disturbs your slumber,” he said then left.

  Chapter 14

  The journey north came within the month. Dispatches were sent to Lord Thorfinn, and three ships arrived to carry Macbeth’s household by sea to Caithness.

  The Northmen’s longships were similar to the ships in Ynes Verleath. I tried to learn what I could about how the ship actually functions, but was eventually escorted by a well-meaning sailor to a safe spot where I wouldn’t be able to put myself in danger. I bit my tongue. Since I’d come into Macbeth’s company, I’d returned to the same attitude that ruled Allister’s household: women were property, not people.

  I should have run away with Banquo.

  Thora, however, had the run of the ship. The men seemed to think she was good luck. And from the looks she was giving me, it amused Thora that I was told to go sit while she got to do as she liked. Annoying, willful, magical dog.

  So, instead of learning how to do anything, I sat and held Lulach while the North Sea passed me by. The sight of the water made me feel lonely for Ynes Verleath. There was so much Andraste hadn’t taught me. My mind went back to the moment in the chamber of the Lord of the Hollow Hills. What I’d seen there was nothing short of wizardry. Now I was forced to sit in a corner and stay out of the way. In Ynes Verleath, I’d learned how to raise the dead. But I should have expected as much. My husband’s brief, nightly visits had become a clear indication that my new purpose in life was to provide him with an heir. Since the first encounter, Macbeth had come again and again. Macbeth’s visits were always brief. He never stayed afterward, never seemed to realize that I might actually want or need pleasure. He pleased himself, filled me with his seed, then left. I knew this was the way most lords and ladies lived, but it was not how I wanted to live. And it was not how I had lived with Gillacoemgain. Maybe Macbeth just didn’t know any better. I was at a loss for what to do. If I did give him a child, maybe things would be different, better.

  My hand drifted to my stomach. My courses had not yet started again, but I was still nursing Lulach. There was no way to be sure yet if I was pregnant. I didn’t feel life inside me. My mind drifted to Crearwy. I ached desperately for my child, but this was no life for her—not for any woman. The priests of the White Christ preached submission of women. Macbeth had grown up on the doctrine, and, it seemed, believed it.

  I hoped things would be better in Thurso. Otherwise, I was about to spin myself a noose. Surely, those who lived so far in the north knew and honored the old ways—and their women.

  When the port of Thurso became visible, my heart leaped with excitement.

  “Is that it, my lady?” Ute asked.

  “I think so.”

  “What an adventure,” she said wistfully. “Ah! There is Macbeth,” she said, pointing happily to another ship that was already in port. I scanned the dock for Banquo but didn’t see him.

  At last, our ship finally joined the others. Once our ship was safely moored, Macbeth boarded to see me safely debarked.

  “I love Thurso,” he told me. “Come. You’ll see. It is a wonder.”

  With his arm wrapped around me, we made our way up the pier toward a hulking blond-haired man. He had long blonde hair with an equally long beard. Braids had been woven through his hair and beard.

  Ute followed behind us carrying Lulach.

  “Brother!” the man called to Macbeth.

  I recognized the blond giant from my visions in the cauldron. This was Thorfinn the Mighty, a man whom Gillacoemgain had vehemently detested. Macbeth embraced him.

  “My wife, Gruoch,” Macbeth said, turning to me.

  “Lord Thorfinn,” I said with a curtsey.

  The huge man smiled down at me. “Pretty, very pretty,” Thorfinn said, looking at me assessing. He smirked at Macbeth. “Hard to tell what you’re going to get with a royal lady.”

  Macbeth laughed. “There is no lovelier creature on Earth,” he said, eyeing me with such unexpected devotion that I felt confused. Who was this man? Where had this kind creature been all these months?

  I turned back to Thorfinn. “Pleased to meet you, my lord. And what about you? Are you married, sir?”

  “Not yet. But if I can get these ridiculous Norwegians to hand over Ingibjorg before I am compelled take her by force, I will be.”

  I laughed. “Is she such a beauty that you would risk war just to claim her?”

  “I would risk the whole of England for her!”

  The three of us laughed then turned and headed down the pier. Thora raced ahead of us to Banquo, who was waiting alongside a dark-haired woman I’d seen—as the raven—once before. The woman was holding onto a small boy who was wiggling to get down.

  “Ah, your playmate awaits you,” Macbeth commented lightly, speaking only loud enough for me to hear.

  His words startled me. I searched Macbeth’s face, but he quickly covered his expression with a smile.

  “My Lady of Moray, may I present my wife, Merna, and my boy, Fleance,” Banquo said. He would not meet my eye.

  Merna smiled. “My lady.”

  I felt like someone had struck me with a dagger. Was this how Banquo had felt all this time? I stared at Merna in disbelief. How was she his wife?

  Pulling myself together, I said, “Merry met.” I turned my attention to their child. “Fleance, eh? Well, come to me, little lad, so I can get a better look at you,” I said, reaching out to the child.

  The boy, who was about two years old with curly brown hair like his father, reached for me. I held him on my hip then gazed into his mischievous brown eyes. How like his father he looked. If Banquo and I had our own son, would he have looked like this?

  “Aren’t you a handsome one? Strong too,” I said, feeling the muscles in his little arms.

  Merna laughed. “Now, that’s a sight. That boy won’t even go to his own kin. He took right to you, my lady. Can you believe it, Banquo?”

  “I can,” Banquo answered softly, which earned him a questioning look from his wife.

  “Hello, Fleance,” I told him. “I’m Gruoch.”

  “Gru…Gruc…Gorch,” he said with a laugh then reached out to touch the torc hanging around my neck.

  “Gruoch is such a dreadful name. I never understood why my father gave it to me. How about Corbie? Can you say Corbie?” I asked, tickling him.

  The boy laughed. “Cor-bee!”

  I hugged the boy tightly, closing my eyes. This was supposed to be my child. I kissed him on the head. Sweet piece of life.

  When I opened my eyes again, I caught Banquo’s gaze. I glanced away before the others saw. I could not rest my eyes on him now. If I did, they would all see. They would all see how much I still loved him.

  A sharp pain crashed across my skull. My knees nearly buckled.

  “Oh,” I gasped. Moving carefully, I handed Fleance to his father.

  “Gruoch?” Macbeth said, taking me by the arm. “Are you ill?”

  “It’s nothing,” I lied. “Just a wee bit seasick.” Waves of pain rolled across my head, shooting toward my temples and the backs of my eyes. I bit the inside of my mouth, forcing away the pain that wanted to take over me. My hands shook.

  No.

  Not now.

  “Come,” Thorfinn said, his voice sounding serious. He studied
my face carefully. “Your wife needs rest, Macbeth.”

  His arm wrapped around me, Macbeth led me to a fortress that sat high above the water. When I entered the space, I was surprised to find that I recognized it. Every detail of the longhouse was clear in my memory. Many years ago, with Sid’s guidance, I’d sent a casting to Banquo. This is where he’d been.

  The memory was further driven home when a black-robed man stood to greet us. He had long black hair and an equally long beard which was streaked with white hair. Around his neck, he wore the amulet of a skald. He bowed to his lord then looked over the rest of us, pausing when his eyes met mine.

  “You,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes as he looked at me.

  “This is Lady Macbeth, Anor,” Thorfinn said, his voice sounding sharp.

  “I’ve seen this lady before.”

  “That is not possible,” Macbeth said with a frown.

  Anor stared at me.

  I turned to Banquo. His eyes met mine, and I could see that he remembered. What had Banquo and I said to one another all those years ago? What had the skald heard?

  My thoughts were distracted when a wave of pain washed over me once more. My body jerked in response.

  “Come, Gruoch. How pale she looks. Come sit,” Thorfinn said, leading me to the massive center fire. “My skald, Anor. He sings well, but he’s meddlesome,” Thorfinn complained. “I half suspect he’s my cousin, Rognevald’s spy.”

  “I am no spy,” Anor retorted.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I think you have mistaken me,” I told the skald, my voice shaky.

  “Indeed. That must be the case. My apologies, Lady Macbeth,” Anor said.

  “He’s full of superstitions, that one. But he won’t wag his tongue about you, or I’ll have it cut out of his mouth. You hear me, Anor?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Red,” Thorfinn called to a buxom woman with a long red braid trailing down her back, “bring Lady Macbeth some wine.”

  “Maybe you should lie down,” Macbeth said, hovering nervously.

  “No, I’ll be okay,” I said.

  The red-haired woman hurried back with a goblet of wine. “M’lady,” she said with an awkward curtsey.