Highland Betrayal

by Alyson McLayne

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because a bairn came out of it.”

  “A sister?” she asked, then gasped in realization. “Aileen?”

  “Aye.”

  “But she said she was your cousin. Callum, why wouldnae you—”

  “’Tis her choice, Maggie. Not mine. She’d rather people think she’s my distant cousin than my bastard sister. She’s afraid of censure, I suppose, or mockery. Even though she knows I acknowledge her and would do my utmost to protect her.”

  “And love her.”

  He smiled. “How could I not? I consider her my sister in every way. And my father did too. He visited her often when she was growing up, and brought her to the castle when her mother died. Despite his flaws, he was good to me and Aileen and not unkind to my mother. They seemed to have an understanding. I doona e’er recall hearing harsh words between them.”

  “So he had one lover outside of his marriage, maybe more. Is this why you didn’t want the murderer to be a woman? You didn’t want his death to be about his wandering eye?”

  He looked up at the ceiling and expelled a breath through his teeth. “Possibly. I ne’er saw Gregor acting toward women in the way my da did. Not that Ivor hurt them, just…he enjoyed them, and they enjoyed him, you understand? Whereas Gregor had a love for his wife so great that it survived her death. That’s what I thought love and marriage should be. I found my father’s charm with the lasses…disquieting. After my mother died, he was more open about it, but I was long past boyhood by then. I accepted that side of him.”

  “And did you learn anything new when you took o’er the lairdship?”

  “I’d already been laird in all but name for several years by the time my da died. He had no qualms about me taking charge, and he was happy to hand o’er the responsibility. He wasn’t a good laird or husband, Maggie, but he always loved me well. And…” He found his throat tight suddenly and had to clear it before he could continue. “I miss him.”

  She turned on her good side and snuggled into him. “Aye. Hold on to that, Callum.”

  They fell silent again. Before long, Maggie’s eyes grew drowsy. She blinked heavily several times, then fell asleep. He gently rolled her onto her back and slid his arm out from beneath her head, then covered her with a blanket and headed to the door. He hoped Gavin had brought Drustan to the solar so he could answer the questions Maggie had raised.

  As much as he’d first doubted Maggie’s assessment of Glynis, he wondered now if there was some truth to it. Or if Glynis knew something that would lead to the traitor’s capture. And if Glynis was tupping Drustan—which would not surprise him, seeing as she’d approached him, Kerr, and Darach—what did Drustan know of her plans, if anything?

  It wasn’t that he condemned Drustan for bedding Glynis, but if Maggie was right and Glynis was the traitor, then his second-in-command was compromised. They all were.

  He closed the door softly behind him and nodded to Gill and Artair at the door. He felt better knowing they watched Maggie. They were beyond suspicion and would give their lives to keep her safe.

  “She’s sleeping,” he said, “and the door isna locked. Guard her well.”

  “Aye, Laird,” they said.

  He’d just turned toward his solar when the door at the end of the hall was yanked open and Gavin strode out, his usually grim countenance lightened by a smile.

  “There you are,” Gavin said. He punched Callum good-humoredly in the shoulder as he passed by. “Gregor and the lads are here. I canna wait to tell them you’ve finally married Maggie. They willna give you a moment’s peace until you tell them every detail. Gregor will relish every minute.”

  Twenty-one

  Maggie sat in the middle of her quilts and stared at the beautiful dress laid out on the foot of the bed. It had been placed there when she’d been sleeping, which, by the long shadows coming through the window, must have been for hours. She rose to her knees and gently ran her fingertips over the material. The wool’s weave resembled that of Callum’s blanket—the one she’d worn to stay warm during the trek over the mountain—except the colors were more vibrant, the wool softer, finer, and the linen shift so smooth, it almost felt like silk.

  Next to the dress were several shiny ribbons that matched the green stripe in the plaid, a new pair of supple leather shoes, and some silky hose.

  A gift from Callum, most likely, and she sighed in appreciation.

  She rose from the bed, feeling much stronger than even this morning, her body rested, her torn muscles and broken bones almost healed, surely.

  She thought back to earlier in the day when she’d thrown her daggers to stop the rocks from falling—Was that only a few hours ago?—and a wave of gratitude washed through her that she hadn’t broken her throwing hand. Although she was fair good with her other hand too.

  She’d just risen from the bed when a knock sounded at the door, and Aileen’s voice came through the wood. “Maggie, are you up? May I come in?”

  “Aye, of course.”

  The door had been left unbarred, and Aileen pushed it open with a smile on her face. Maggie hurried over and gave her a hug. “Sister,” she whispered in Aileen’s ear.

  Aileen startled in surprise and then, after a small sob, gently returned the hug.

  Maggie pulled back and looked her in the eye. “And I’ll proudly call you that in front of everyone, if you’ll let me. Callum too. Believe me, no one will dare cross the two of us. And if they do, you tell me.” She reached for a weapon under her sleeve and found the dagger she’d taken from Callum in the leather sheath strapped to her forearm. “I’ll wave this in their face and scare the wickedness right out of them.”

  Aileen stared at her, eyes wide, then she burst into a mixture of tears and laughter. “Well, then, you may call me sister whene’er you like. And I’ll do the same to you. ’Tis my duty if it helps rid the land of wickedness.” She grasped Maggie’s uninjured hand and pulled her to the bed. “Come, let’s get you dressed. Callum has a surprise for you.”

  She helped Maggie out of her clothes and then into the fine arisaid laid out for her. Picking up the end of one of Maggie’s long curls, she asked, “Do you want me to weave some ribbons through it? Or braid it? I’m afraid I’m not verra good at the intricate hair styles some of the women wear.”

  “You mean Glynis,” Maggie said with a grimace. “Doona worry about that for me. Callum wouldnae recognize me if my hair wasn’t a bit wild, I’m sure.”

  “I can sprinkle the strands with some lavender water so the curls stay smooth and then pull it away from your face with a ribbon. My mother had hair like yours, and she swore the flower’s oils stopped the curls from flying in all directions.”

  “Aye, that sounds perfect,” Maggie said, sitting on the bed with her back to Aileen. “Can you give me a hint as to your brother’s plans?”

  Aileen’s hands stilled in Maggie’s hair. “Nay, Callum threatened to make me sing in front of everyone if I breathed even one word of it. My…brother…was most adamant that it stay a secret. I can say that I think you’ll like it.”

  She brought over a vial of lavender oil that she added to a bowl already filled with a small amount of water. She mixed the two and sprinkled the water on Maggie’s curls, then used a wide-toothed comb to work the oil-infused water through. It looked very pretty, and Maggie decided she would use the special water on her hair from now on to help tame it.

  Which made her wonder—had she been tamed in some way too? Had Callum stroked his hand down her body and kissed her lips and changed who she really was?

  She examined her hair, liking the sheen on the curls and the way her locks were drying into a glossy, curly mane. It was still her hair, just not so apt to fight her anymore. Perhaps the lavender water was like Callum’s presence in her life—her hair was soothed by the oil and became its best self in the same way she was
soothed by Callum. But would she become her best self, or did he want her to be someone else entirely? Someone not so apt to shoot arrows and climb out of windows?

  She suppressed a sigh, not wanting to alarm Aileen. Besides, she had more important things to worry about. She could fight Callum about his expectations of her later.

  “Face me now, please,” Aileen said.

  Maggie turned, and her sister-in-law fluffed her hair with her fingers, then picked up the matching ribbon, looped it behind Maggie’s neck, and tied it on the top of her head.

  She smiled. “Oh, Maggie, you look so beautiful. Come on.” She took Maggie’s hand and tugged her to the door. “I can hardly wait for Callum to see you.”

  They exited into the hallway. Artair and Gill were still there, and they beamed at her. “Och, you look like an angel, lass,” Artair said.

  “Aye,” Gill added. “If I didn’t know you were our Lady MacLean, I’d think you a lady in the Seelie Court.”

  She felt the heat stealing up her neck. “Being attacked by wolves and chased o’er a mountain has done wonders for my complexion. Not to mention a change of clothes and clean hair, of course.”

  They laughed, and then Gill said, “Wait here. I’ll just let them know you’re coming,” before he darted ahead.

  Maggie turned on Artair and pinned him with her gaze. “Do you know what Callum has planned? My husband’s sister willna tell me anything. After all we’ve shared, you’ll tell me, aye?”

  His brows raised and he glanced at Aileen, who’d flushed the color of the red berries the weaver used in her dye. “His sister, is it? Aye, I found it remarkable that for such distant cousins, you and Callum looked so similar. ’Tis the eyes. It’s good to own who you are, Aileen, no matter the circumstances.”

  She nodded jerkily, and Maggie squeezed her arm in support.

  “And I willna tell you anything,” Artair continued, returning his gaze to Maggie, his huge arms crossing over his enormous chest. “Your husband would send me home to Clan MacKinnon in disgrace.”

  Just then, Gill appeared around the corner and waved them forward. Maggie’s heart increased its rhythm in anticipation. She expected to be led down the stairs to the great hall, but instead, they proceeded to the chapel that Aileen had shown her earlier in the day. Inside was a sight to behold as the chapel opened onto a balcony that overlooked the inner courtyard, and light from above poured into the sanctuary.

  Six men were in conversation in the hall outside the chapel door, including Gavin, Callum, and an older man opposite him. They were dressed in their best shirts and plaids and looked like they were fresh from a swim in the loch.

  She stopped in surprise, peering at their faces. It had been years since they’d all been at her keep, running wild with her brothers, but other than the distinct differences in Gavin, they looked relatively the same. And the older man, whom she’d never paid much attention to before—he must be Gregor MacLeod, gray streaks running through his auburn hair and beard, his face deeply lined across his forehead and down his cheeks. And he was smiling at her like a delighted old woman.

  “God’s truth, Callum! She’s a vision.” he said, coming forward to embrace her.

  “She’s still injured,” Callum warned. “Doona squeeze her hard.”

  Maggie wrapped her arms slowly around Gregor’s back, her fingers barely touching around that broad chest. When he pushed her to arm’s length and looked at her, his eyes so happy and warm, she let go her reserve and smiled at him.

  “Hello,” she said, feeling like a lass of five rather than a fierce, almost-twenty-one-year-old woman who’d fought off both wolves and wicked men.

  “Hello, Maggie,” he said. “Welcome to the family, lass. I canna tell you how happy I am to see you here and wed to my Callum. I’m sorry to hear that circumstances in your clan are so grave, but I promise we’ll do whate’er it takes to rectify the situation. Your cousin’s deeds willna go unpunished. Nor any of his accomplices’. I promise you we will root them out, help Ross if we can, and find John.”

  “Thank you, Laird MacLeod—”

  “Nay, we doona stand on formality within the family. You will call me Gregor.”

  “Or donkey breath, as we like to call him,” one of the foster brothers said, and the others laughed.

  She thought maybe it had been Kerr, the huge, wicked-looking rogue who wore his long black hair tied in a leather thong. He also wore an expression on his face that was just a bit too innocent. She frowned in his direction and was considering what she could throw at him for his insult to Gregor and where it would hurt the most but cause the least amount of damage. Gavin interrupted her contemplations, saying, “Och, run, Kerr! Look at her face. She’ll come after you now. And she willna just twist your stones like Amber did. She’ll twist and then prick them with her dagger.”

  “My Amber’s an angel! You’re addled if you think otherwise,” another brother said, one she recognized as Lachlan. He frowned at Gavin, but his blue eyes were filled with pride and amusement. Aye, she remembered Lachlan—always laughing and up to some mischief when he wasn’t trying to tup the lasses…and succeeding more often than not.

  She reached up her sleeve for her dagger, only to find her leather sheath empty. Whirling around, she saw Callum standing behind her with the dagger she’d stolen from him in his hand.

  “Looking for this?” he asked.

  “I thought merely to cut the long locks from Kerr’s head. I think he’ll fall just like Samson if I do. No matter. I’ll get another blade.”

  Kerr raised his hands to cover his hair. “What have I done? Quickly, hide your daggers!” he said to the men.

  The last brother had to be Darach, the one married to Caitlin, the innocent lass who apparently had all the men doing her bidding with a single, sweet look. He made a scoffing noise deep in his throat. “You worry for naught, Brother. I remember Maggie well. Someone poured tar in her hair, and a chunk had to be cut out. She would ne’er commit such an atrocity on someone else. Even if ’twas you, Kerr, who did it. Would you, lass?”

  Maggie’s ire rose at the memory—the stickiness of the tar and her brother Ross doing a hatchet job on her hair as he cut it off to her shoulders. But she could see the laughter within Darach’s brown gaze and didn’t know if he told the truth. She glowered at Kerr anyway for good measure. He quickly retreated, sending the other men into gales of laughter.

  Darach grasped her hand. “’Tis an honor, Maggie, to be able to call you sister. For sure, you have married the best of us.” He stepped forward to embrace her, and she found his dagger pressed into her hand.

  He stepped back with a wink. The remaining men hugged her after that, and by the time she reached Kerr, she had three daggers hidden in her plaid and up her sleeves. And then all five of them watched with anticipation to see what she would do next.

  She faced Kerr and opened her arms wide. “Will you not embrace me as well, Kerr MacAlister?” He looked at her suspiciously, then pulled his plaid up over his head like a hood and held it tight before stepping forward. His foolishness made everyone else laugh again, including her.

  “I’ll call a truce, tonight, Brother, for ’tis not every day a new wife is introduced to her family.” She stepped toward him, and he grasped her hands in one of his huge paws before hugging her with one arm.

  “Welcome to the family, lass,” he said.

  She looked into his eyes and thought she detected guilt. She would speak to Callum later and find out for certain if it had been Kerr who’d spilled the tar in her hair, and if it had been an accident. Then she’d dole out her punishment when he least expected it.

  Callum’s arm snaked around her waist as if he expected trouble, and he pulled her away from Kerr, who let his plaid fall down his back.

  Maggie caught sight of Aileen standing behind the wall of brothers, and she reached an arm between Gregor and Lachlan
to gesture for her. “I would have you greet one more sister,” she said to the men. She grasped Aileen’s hand and pulled her into the circle. The lass’s eyes grew round, and her skin flushed pink again. “Have you all met Callum’s sister, Aileen?” she asked.

  Callum stilled, his eyes searching his sister’s face. “Are you sure, Aileen?” he asked. “I’ve always told you it’s your choice, and I meant it.”

  She hesitated, gaze darting around to the men and Maggie. Finally, she said, “Aye. It’s easy being brave around my new sister-in-law.”

  Callum grinned, and his eyes lit with happiness. “She makes us all braver.” He turned to Kerr. “Well, most of us.”

  Lachlan clapped Kerr on the shoulder as they walked toward the balcony. “Why doona you just cut it yourself and save yourself the aggravation, Brother?”

  Kerr glowered at them. “No one is touching my hair. Isobel likes my hair, even though she’ll not admit it. ’Twill be what finally wins her over.” He looked at Maggie with forlorn eyes. “You wouldnae stand in the way of true love, would you, lass?”

  She couldn’t help laughing, but then with a quick flick of her wrist, she tossed the dagger at Kerr’s head and sliced the tie that held his gorgeous hair behind his shoulders. A few strands dropped to the floor, and the dagger embedded itself in a wooden picture frame on the stone wall.

  Shocked silence reigned for a second before the men burst out laughing—all except Kerr, who felt his hair to make sure it wasn’t shorn.

  “Nay, I would ne’er stand in the way of love. Consider us even, Brother,” she said.

  He grunted and held out his hand to her. “Swear it, Maggie MacLean.”

  She grasped his hand. “I swear I willna touch your bonnie hair. But I may teach Isobel how to wield a dagger.”

  Kerr groaned. “Why couldnae I have married first? All your troublesome wives will corrupt my sweet Isobel.”

  “I doona think my sister cares for your hair one way or the other, Brother,” Gavin said to Kerr. “But when I tell her how much you care, I’m sure she’ll come up with several different ways to cut it.”