“Aye, ’tis important you take regular walks, Father, twice a day, if you can. And you should make a habit of reaching up to the sky and then touching your toes several times too. ’Twill keep your muscles and joints limber.”
He patted her cheek. “You’re a lovely lass and a good match for Laird MacKay. I couldnae be happier for you both.”
“Och, you haven’t heard me curse yet or rebuke someone for being careless. I’m afraid I can be quite ill-tempered.”
“God judges the heart, lass, and I can see you have a good one.”
Amber’s lip trembled slightly before she firmed it up with a deprecating smile, and Lachlan’s heart broke a wee bit at seeing this strong woman vulnerable.
“Father Odhran doesn’t think so,” she said. “He hates me for aiding the lasses—especially when they’re giving birth. I’m afraid he’ll say terrible things about me.”
“’Tis important I hear him out, Amber, and try to help him. It doesn’t mean I condone what he’s saying or find an ounce of truth in his words, aye? Hold fast to what you hold dear and believe in Lachlan and the other lairds. They’re good men, and they believe in you too.”
Lachlan pulled her beneath his shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Aye, we do believe in you, no matter what that foul priest says or does. Doona forget that, even if we say otherwise in order to get inside the chapel.”
She nodded, and Lachlan released her but stayed close.
Father Lundie walked through the group, up the stairs to the chapel’s door, and banged on it. The men stepped away from Amber as if they distrusted her—they wanted to encourage Odhran’s rant by showing a divide among them. Gregor had crossed his arms over his chest in disapproval, and Kerr held his fingers by his side in a sign to ward off the devil.
“Father Odhran,” Father Lundie called, his voice kind and concerned. “’Tis Father Lundie from Clan MacKenzie. We met a few years ago at the summer festival in Inverness. May I speak with you?”
They listened for any sound. Naught. Father Lundie tried the door, but it was locked. He knocked again. “Father Odhran?”
“Go away!” the priest yelled from inside, desperation and madness reverberating in his tone. Father Lundie looked at the lairds with alarm. Gregor twirled his hand in a circular motion, encouraging the priest to continue.
“I’ve travelled a long way to see you,” he said through the door. “Gregor MacLeod asked me to come. Everyone’s worried about your well-being…and your concerns about the MacPherson healer. I’d like to speak to you about her.”
The priest spoke truthfully, even though he knew the lairds had their own agenda.
“She’s a witch!” Odhran yelled.
“Aye, ’tis what Gregor and the others told me you’d say. ’Tis a serious accusation. It deserves to be discussed face-to-face, doona you think? The lairds would like to bring Amber before you—before us—prior to her marriage to Laird MacKay. You can understand their concern, aye?”
More silence. Lachlan ground his teeth at the delay. It wasn’t working. The longer they stood here, the farther away Murray could be running—or setting up the perfect shot to kill Amber. His eyes scanned the top of the buildings again.
He was about to draw his sword and use the heavy steel to hack open the door, when he heard the hinges creak. His gaze dropped, and Father Odhran, looking haggard and unwashed, poked his head out.
He hissed when he saw Amber. “Get it away from me!”
Lachlan stepped forward, his fists like hammers. Rage burned hot at the insult to Amber and overrode his careful planning.
The monster had done enough damage to Lachlan’s adopted clan. Now he harbored Machar Murray too? He needed to be put down.
Gregor grabbed Lachlan’s arm in a tight grip. “Calm down, Son. Father Odhran’s concern is justified. Let him have his say, and we’ll make our decision. If it’s true, you canna marry her, no matter how much you want to. Right, Father?” He directed the last at Father Lundie.
Father Lundie sputtered, his brow furrowed. “If it’s true, aye, but ’tis a grave accusation he makes. You canna claim someone is a witch just because they’re a healer. We need women like Amber to help us when we’re sick.”
“Not if it subverts God’s will,” Gregor said. “She alleviates the pain of childbirth.”
Lachlan’s eyebrows rose, and he stared at his foster father. How difficult had that been for him to say? Gregor would have given his life for Kellie’s on the birthing bed. He must want to gut the priest as much as Lachlan did.
Gregor squeezed his arm tighter, and Lachlan realized the contact was no longer about restraint but about helping Gregor get through what he had to say next. “Ask her how many women she’s saved who should have died for Eve’s sin? ’Tis their cross to bear for tempting Adam.” The words must feel like the worst betrayal to Kellie.
“I’m not convinced,” Lachlan said. “The priest is addled as Amber said. ’Tis rumored he tups with goats.”
Odhran pushed the door wide and waved his arms. A stench came with him. “I ne’er did such a thing in my life! Look at her! She has Lucifer all over her! She was made to tempt a man. She’ll tear away your soul, Laird MacKay, and feed it to the devil himself.” He stepped forward but still held the handle. “Strip off her clothes, you’ll find his marks. The places he sucks on her. I saw her fornicating with her goats. Both of them at once.”
Amber puffed out a shocked laugh. “God’s blood, you’ve lost your mind. Your brains are naught more than stewed oats.”
The priest released the door, his hands out like claws, and ran toward her. He’d barely taken two steps before an arrow struck him from behind and protruded through his chest.
He fell toward Amber.
Lachlan barreled into her an instant later. They flew sideways to the ground and kept rolling, his big body shielding her as more arrows flew through the space where she’d been standing.
Controlled chaos erupted as the other lairds and their men stormed the chapel. Lachlan heard the thud of arrows hitting shields and the clang as the portcullis dropped, but he knew it was useless. Murray would never have revealed himself if he didn’t have an escape route from the chapel—most likely one that exited into the woods, or they would have seen him crossing the empty field by now.
“Amber, are you hurt?” he asked as he frantically pulled her behind a barrel. He turned her over, looking for blood.
“Nay, Lachlan. I’m all right.”
“Your shoulder, then.” He propped her up against the barrel and pulled her top aside to see the bandage. “God’s blood, it’s bleeding again.”
“Not much. Verily, it was worse yesterday after training with Adaira.”
“What?” He knew Adaira had hurt Amber’s nose, but he had no idea she’d hurt her shoulder as well. He closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. “When this is over, I’ll train her.”
Amber opened her mouth to protest, but he waylaid her. “Just until you’re healed,” he said. “You doona want a permanent injury. You know that.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Aye.”
“Laird MacKay,” Hamish yelled, running over.
Lachlan signaled to him to give them a minute, then helped Amber up. “This is the last time, lass, I swear. You are not a warrior. I doona want you in the line of fire e’er again. If you died, it would devastate me and the clan. I’ll do what I’m trained to do—fight. You stay back and do what you’re trained to do—heal. Are we agreed?”
She nodded. Lachlan wrapped his hands around the side of her head and lifted her up for a kiss. Her mouth opened under his, soft, warm, and she melted into him. When he pulled back, her eyes swam with tears.
“We’ll bring the wounded to the keep, same as last time. Murray will have a way out, and he’s probably rigged the tunnel. Send stretchers to the chapel.”
“Aye.”
Her hands clenched his arms. “Lachlan, stay safe.”
“I will. Murray is not going to ruin my wedding.”
She laughed, then sobered. “Nay, I’ll be the one doing that, I’m sure. You’re addlebrained to want to marry me.”
“No one else, Amber.” He kissed her again and walked her to Hamish, placing his body between her and possible arrows from the chapel.
To his second-in-command, he said, “Keep everyone in the great hall, and station warriors both inside and out. If they have to leave, provide an escort. ’Tis obvious we missed a tunnel here. We may have missed one in the keep as well. And I want men guarding the stables while the foal is being birthed. Keep an eye on Ian and Adaira in particular. Or anyone else Murray may use to blackmail us.”
“What about the villagers?” Amber asked. “I need Mary here, and I want Ian’s sister, Breanna, to be found.”
“Aye, good idea.” He turned to Hamish. “Have the men go door-to-door to make sure everyone’s all right. Tell them to stay locked inside until they hear from us that it’s safe to come out.”
“Lachlan!”
Looking up, he saw Darach on the steps with his hounds, Hati and Skoll. The others were already inside.
He gave Amber one last hug, inhaling deeply. Her warmth, her softness, the way she smelled of fresh air and lavender, imprinted on his senses. Then he released her and strode away—and didn’t dare look back.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he drew his sword, even though he knew the area would already be secured.
The chapel was an open room with carved columns about every ten paces, depicting angels, demons, saints, and sinners. They supported the arched, stone roof and framed the sanctuary. A large crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, and a statue of Mary holding the Christ child was off to the side.
Benches had been shoved haphazardly against doors and shuttered windows, which had been wrenched open by the warriors to let in the light. The sanctuary had also been blocked off, with benches piled on top of one another near to the ceiling.
Archers faced the sanctuary for protection as men dismantled the makeshift wall. Other men cleared any side rooms and alcoves. Father Lundie stood with his hands on his head, moaning in agitation at what he would consider a desecration, although at least the altar and Holy Book on top of it appeared to be untouched.
Lachlan approached the others as they discussed their options. Darach held a nightshirt that had belonged to Machar Murray in his hand, and the dogs, who sat beside them, already had his scent.
Callum pointed to a position behind the wall of benches where a desk stood. “That’s the best sightline to the door, and it would allow for his escape.”
Lachlan looked back toward the chapel entrance, imagining Murray standing or kneeling on the desk with his bow drawn and pointed at Father Odhran’s back. Once Odhran had opened the door wide and stepped outside, he was a dead man.
“One shot to the back,” Gavin said. “Then when the priest was down, he had a direct line to where Amber and Lachlan stood.”
Darach squeezed Lachlan’s shoulder. “Glad you’re still with us.”
“Amber too,” Kerr said, his biceps bulging as he crossed his arms over his huge chest. “I still have to prove to her I’m not a weak, mewling lad with my stones caught in her grip.”
“Sorry, lad, we doona have all year,” Gregor said.
The others laughed as Lachlan paced back and forth, too worried and anxious to find humor in anything right now. He knew his foster brothers and Gregor weren’t relaxed, even though they might look and sound it. They were assessing the situation for any traps Murray had left behind, same as he was.
Lachlan had spotted one already and eagerly stepped over the last few benches as the wall came down.
“Please, doona desecrate the sanctuary,” Father Lundie begged.
“We’ll do our best, Father, but you have to stand back. The dogs need to track him. And he’s probably rigged some traps along the way,” Lachlan said.
“Let me retrieve the Holy Eucharist first, then, aye? If there’s any blessed bread or wine, it needs to be protected.”
Lachlan nodded, eyes sharp as he watched Father Lundie approach the altar and pull out a basket of bread, a vial of holy water, and the bible.
When he’d retreated, Lachlan turned back to Callum and pointed out a trip wire across the ground. “I doona think it’s the main one.”
Callum crouched beside it. “Nay, me neither.”
“Let’s find out.” Gregor used his great strength to lift one of the benches and shove it against the wire. A column came smashing down from their left, knocking into the altar and almost hitting Gavin, who jumped back just in time.
Dust rose, and they pulled their plaids over their faces. Father Lundie moaned at the destruction of the sanctuary, while Darach’s dogs erupted into ferocious barking.
“Hati, Skoll, hush,” Darach commanded, and they quieted down.
“Christ Almighty, I wasn’t expecting that,” Gavin said, brushing the dust from his short hair.
“Nay, certainly not for the first trap,” Kerr agreed.
“Och, ’tis the altar,” Father Lundie said, approaching the sanctuary again.
They all looked at him. “What do you mean?” Lachlan asked.
“I’ve seen a few churches that have a hiding space below the altar—built for the priest in case trouble arises. ’Tis possible Father Odhran showed it to Laird Murray, and Murray used it as a starting point for the tunnel you think he built.”
Lachlan approached slowly. “So the column was rigged to fall on top of it.”
“Maybe. Let’s think like him,” Gregor said. “He wants to delay us getting into the tunnel.”
“And stop us from finding it in the first place,” Callum added.
Kerr carefully stepped over the column. “If I didn’t know about the hiding spot, I might crawl o’er the debris and look for him in the back rooms.”
“Aye, and we know he likes to build traps up high—traps within traps—and use poison,” Darach said.
Gregor knotted his plaid over his nose. “Keep your faces covered and doona let anything touch your skin.”
Lachlan covered his face as well. “Divide into teams. Gavin and Kerr, take the priest’s solar. Gregor and Darach, take the bedchamber. Callum and I will remove the debris and see if there’s a tunnel beneath the altar.”
As the other four men disappeared into the rooms behind the sanctuary, Callum and Lachlan slowly stepped over the broken stone and began their examination.
“You take that side, and I’ll take this side,” Callum said, pulling up his plaid.
Lachlan nodded and reined in his impatience as he moved cautiously to the right, scanning for any more trip wires along the ground and looking up high for irregularities with the other columns and the arched ceiling. “’Tis likely there’s naught else out here. At least not until we take the broken stone away and try to open the tunnel.”
“Laird MacKay, is there anything else I can do here?” Father Lundie asked, as he hovered on the other side of the downed column.
“Nay, Father. You’ve been verra helpful. Why doona you return to the keep and see if Amber needs assistance?”
The priest nodded and had just left when thuds sounded from the priest’s solar. After a second, Gavin yelled, “We’re all right. Knives shot from the desk when we opened the door.”
“Careful of the tips,” Lachlan answered. “He’s used poisoned thorns before. And careful of the hilts too, just in case. Make sure you doona grab them.”
“Can I put them in my mouth?” Kerr asked.
Callum snorted as he leaned down to look for more trip wires.
“You can put them up your arse, for all I care.”
“Och, ’tis always about the arse with you, isn’t it?”
Lachlan tensed and saw Callum do the same as they waited. Then Darach yelled, “We’re all right! Gregor tripped a trap by mistake. Oil and a lit arrow. Luckily, the arrow hit my shield instead of the oil that had spilled from the smashed container. I put out the fire.”
“Christ Almighty, old man!” Kerr yelled. “Quit blathering and focus on the task at hand before you get us all killed.”
“Shove it, you overgrown ablach!” Gregor yelled back.
Lachlan wiped his brow on his sleeve. It was hot under his drawn-up plaid, and sweat had formed on his forehead. He moved to the back of the sanctuary to examine the large, wooden crucifix. When he looked behind it, he saw scratch marks on the stone wall. “Callum.”
Callum heard the urgency in his voice and came over, taking care with each step.
Lachlan showed him the marks. “They’re fresh,” he said.
“Aye.” Callum wiggled the cross. “And it’s looser than it should be.”
Crouching on his haunches, Lachlan looked for a connecting stud or wire in the stone. “It’s not attached at the bottom.”
“If it fell over, it’s tall enough to land on the altar, and heavy enough to kill.” Callum cupped his hands and leaned over. “Take a look up top. I’ll give you a lift.”
Lachlan put his foot on Callum’s hands and balanced himself against the wall as his foster brother raised him up. He could see the mortar had been chipped away from around the rock. “It looks like a stone has been loosened where the cross is attached to it.” He pulled on the wood and the large block slid toward him. “Aye, it’s coming out,” he said.
Callum lowered him. “So something pushes on the stone from behind. But what? And what triggers it?”
“Most likely to do with the altar. The release of pressure when we take the broken column off maybe? Let’s take the crucifix out just to be safe.”
Highland Conquest Page 22