McKenna's Honor, a Novella, Book Four of the Clan MacDougall Series

by Suzan Tisdale

  TWO

  Angus hangs at dawn.

  No matter how many times Nial McKee read the missive he held in his hand, he could not grasp the reality of it. Surreal. Unbelievable.

  Angus McKenna, one of the most honorable men he’d ever known, his own father-in-law for the sake of Christ. And he had not only been accused of treason and crimes against their king, he had admitted to them!

  Why? Why would the most respected and revered chief of one of the mightiest clans in Scotland do such a thing?

  Nial ran a hand through his short brown hair, tossed the missive onto his desk and finally looked up at Caelen McDunnah, the man who had brought him the news.

  Caelen had been Nial’s best friend for as long as he could remember. To anyone who did not know the two men well, their friendship was a curious one, for no two men could be more dissimilar.

  Where Nial was short and stocky, with short-cropped light brown hair and gray blue eyes, Caelen was tall and built like a wall of stone. He wore his nearly black hair long, with braids on either side of his temples, and his dark brown eyes, rarely, if ever, sparkled. Where Nial’s body was relatively free of scars, a rough, jagged scar ran from Caelen’s forehead, down the left side of his face, and ended a few inches under his left armpit.

  Nial knew it should have been his face and body marred by that scar, not Caelen’s.

  Their friendship had begun not long before the Battle of Berwick in 1333. They’d been very young men, anxious to prove to themselves and to the world their abilities on the battlefield. Both men had come close to dying at Berwick. Much blood -- a good portion of it belonging to Caelen -- along with their youthful exuberance and immature lust for fighting was left on that marshy battlefield.

  Since that day, Nial had done everything he could to avoid fighting. Nay, he was no coward, for he would fight to his own death if the circumstances called for it. He had fought in too many battles to count. But whenever possible, he would give diplomacy a chance before drawing his sword.

  The same could not be said for Caelen. The man enjoyed a good fight. It was often said that he would sometimes start an argument for the sole purpose of brawling. Whether it was boredom or some twisted, inner desire to test fate and death, one couldn’t be certain. For whatever reason, Caelen enjoyed fighting.

  “I couldna believe it meself when I first read it,” Caelen said from the opposite side of Nial’s desk. Nial found it difficult at the moment to ascertain what Caelen might truly be thinking. Nial was one of the very few people who could read Caelen’s moods and sometimes thoughts, regardless of any outward expression. But today, Caelen’s thoughts were indiscernible.

  Nial’s principal worry however, was his wife, Bree, and how she would take the news of her father’s incarceration and the charges leveled against him. This is going to kill Bree, he thought to himself.

  “Where is Duncan in all of this?” Nial asked, his voice sharp and full of concern.

  Caelen cleared his throat and crossed well-muscled arms over his broad chest and leaned against the fireplace mantle. “Sittin’ right next to his treasonous father-in-law.”

  Nial’s eyes widened with surprise and shock. It was bad enough that his brother-in-law also sat in the dungeon in Edinburgh. Caelen knew the two men as well as Nial. He was astonished to hear Caelen refer to either man as a traitor. “Certainly ye dunna believe Angus a traitor?”

  Caelen cocked his head as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “He’s admitted to it, Nial. Both have.”

  Nial’s eyes turned to small slits. “I do no’ believe it. I will no’ believe it until I speak to them.” How in the name of God am I goin’ to tell Bree?

  Angus and Duncan. Accused of treason. That either man would admit to such a thing would be laughable, were they not both sitting in a dungeon in Edinburgh, waiting to be hanged. Nial had known these men most of his life. Never, not once in all that time had either of them done anything, said anything, or otherwise acted in any manner that would make anyone question their loyalty to Scotland or her king.

  “Where are Isobel and Aishlinn?” Nial asked as he tried to make sense of the news.

  “That be a good question,” Caelen began. “I was hopin’ they were here.”

  More confusion knitted on Nial’s brow. “Nay, we’ve not seen any of them in many months.” Clarity began to dawn as he studied his friend more closely. There was something to Caelen’s countenance and his voice that gave Nial pause. “Ye dunna ken where they are?” It was more a statement than a question.

  “Nay, we do no’ ken where they be. It seems they disappeared the same night that the sheriff’s men came fer Angus and Duncan. The babes be missin’ too.” Caelen looked pained to tell Nial that last bit of news.

  “Disappeared?” Unease and worry began to double. His stomach suddenly felt heavy, filled with the dread of having to explain all of this to his sweet wife. Bree.

  Caelen remained silent for a time, allowing Nial time to come to terms with the news that two of his in-laws were admitted traitors and their female counterparts, along with his nephews were missing.

  With a scrutinizing gaze, pursed lips, and furrowed brow, Nial tried to read Caelen’s face. What exactly wasn’t he telling him? He could not quite put his finger to it, but there was something hidden, something Caelen was deliberately keeping from him.

  The men watched each other closely for several long moments. The only sound in the room came from the crackling fire and the soft rain as it fell against the shutters of the keep.

  Nial hoped for some sign of what his friend might be thinking. It suddenly dawned on him that there was a strong possibility that Caelen worried that Nial too, might be less than loyal to their king. “Ye think me a traitor as well? Is that why ye be here Caelen?” He made no attempts to hide his anger or his disgust. “Ye ken I be no more a traitor than ye!”

  “What of Angus’ admission?” Caelen asked. His voice was calm. Holding not even the slightest hint as to what he was thinking or feeling.

  Nial let out an exasperated sigh. “What of it?” he barked. “There must be a reason fer him to admit to such a thing.” Nial would never believe Angus or Duncan was a traitor.

  “Each has admitted to it, Nial. The question be why? Be it the truth, or something more?”

  In his heart, Nial knew there could be no truth to the accusations. He turned to gaze out the window behind his desk. Dawn was just beginning to break beyond the horizon. Green as far as his eye could see save for the ewes and their lambs that dotted the summer grass. On this rainy day, the sheep looked like gray clouds that had fallen to the earth.

  Below stairs, the keep was slowly coming to life. Soon the younger maids would begin to light the fires in the gathering room and the kitchen staff would begin preparing the morning meal. Within the hour, the many inhabitants of the keep would begin scurrying about with their daily duties.

  The early morning hours had always been Nial’s favorite time of day. He loved waking up and pulling Bree into his arms and holding her close to his chest. Sometimes, if he woke early enough, he would have time to show her just how much he adored and cherished her before their son woke and demanded her full and undivided attention.

  He would not relish waking her this morn. Nay, he would let her sleep until Jamie woke. Nial imagined it would be some time before they slept in blissful, untroubled, contented sleep again.

  Bree was just four doors away from where he now stood. Their seven-month-old son Jamie was fast asleep in his cradle just steps away from their bed. Nial wished he could climb back into bed with his wife and forget that Caelen had not just delivered him such dire news.

  “I tell you, there has to be a reason, but I dunnae what it be.” Nial said, still trying to come to terms with the news.

  Caelen straightened himself and came to stand before Nial’s desk. “What can ye think of that would get men like Angus McKenna and Duncan McEwan to admit to treason? If it be not the truth, then what?”

&nbs
p; Nial thought on the question for a time, his lips pursed together as a hard line formed above his brows. There could be only one reason, other than the truth, that would elicit Angus’ confession.

  “Isobel,” Nial murmured. Isobel was Angus’ wife, Bree’s mum, and the love of Angus McKenna’s life.

  “Aishlinn, Bree,” Caelen offered, “his grandchildren.” He waited patiently for his friend Nial to join his own way of thinking.

  Nial turned to face Caelen. Only a moment passed before realization began to sink in. Angus and Duncan were protecting their wives and families. Nothing else made sense. Nial noticed a twinkle of sorts present in Caelen’s deep brown eyes. For those who did not know the man well, they might have thought it something malevolent, but Nial knew better. Relief enveloped Nial as he came to the sudden conclusion that Caelen did not think Angus McKenna a traitor any more than Nial did.

  “Ye do no’ think Angus a traitor,” Nial said.

  Caelen smiled and shook his head. “No more than I think ye be.”

  Suddenly, Nial felt hopeful and encouraged. Caelen’s twinkling eyes said enough. There might just be hope for Angus and Duncan after all. Nail smiled, his spirits lifting considerably. But it was short lived.

  Aye, Caelen may well have a plan, something as yet unspoken, that might, just might help the two men he admired most in life. But he still had to break the news to Bree. He knew it would be one of the most difficult conversations of his life.

  Nial took a deep breath and steeled himself for his wife’s reaction to the news that her father was an admitted traitor. Her reaction was not what he had expected. They had been married for a year and a half and he knew there was still much to he needed to learn about the woman who was his sole reason for living.

  He had expected her to be outraged and appalled that anyone would accuse her father of such misdeeds. He fully expected her to stomp about their bedchamber, furious, and demanding action. And if Nial wouldn’t put the call out to bring their warriors to arms, she would do it herself.

  Instead, his strong, beautiful wife sat in a chair beside the fireplace watching their son Jamie as he suckled at her breast. She seemed unmoved by the news. Her calm demeanor, her quite façade scared the hell out of him. Aye, she may have responded in a quiet and dignified manner, but Nial felt certain she was quietly plotting the deaths of the person or persons who had accused her father and Duncan of such atrocities.

  Bree smiled proudly at Jamie as she spoke to her husband. “And what do we intend to do about it?” she asked without looking up.

  Nial stood speechless for a moment. He supposed she was keeping her anger in check for fear of upsetting their babe.

  “Caelen waits fer me below stairs,” he began. “We do no’ know yet who is behind this. They canna find Isobel or Aishlinn and the babes.”

  Bree’s head shot up at that piece of news. “What do ye mean they canna find them?”

  “They went missin’ the same night they came to take Angus and Duncan away,” Nial told her as he bent to one knee beside her. He ran a hand over his son’s dark locks. Under normal circumstances he would have felt a tad jealous that his son was enjoying that part of Bree that Nial found pleasure with as well.

  Bree reached out and gently laid a hand on Nial’s arm. She needed his reassurance that all would be well. Although she was worried for her father and Duncan, her stomach drew into knots with worry over where Isobel and Aishlinn were. Who knew where they might be and what they were going through. She did her best to chase those terrifying thoughts away. She knew she’d be no good to them, or anyone else, if she could not keep herself together.

  “Nial, please tell me what ye believe is happenin’,” she asked softly.

  “I do no’ believe yer da, or Duncan, are traitors. There must be a reason why they would make such admissions. I can only assume it has something to do with the fact that Isobel and Aishlinn are missin’.” He took a deep breath and turned to face his wife.

  Bree’s beautiful green eyes were missing their usual sparkle. They were filled with worry and questions Nial could not answer.

  “I want ye to take Jamie and go to Findley and Maggy’s,” Nial told her. He stopped her before she could protest. “Bree, within the hour I will be leavin’ with Caelen for Edinburgh. I canna help Angus or Duncan if I must worry over ye. If me guess is right, someone has Isobel and Aishlinn and are usin’ them against Angus and Duncan. I canna let anyone get to ye and Jamie.” His voice was soft, yet firm. If he had to tie her up and drag her to Maggy and Findley’s, he would.

  Nial could see his wife contemplating his argument. After a time, she finally nodded her head in agreement. “I suppose yer right,” she said. Maggy and Findley’s home was much closer to Stirling than the McKee keep and from there, she might be able to do more to help her parents and rest of her family. But she kept that line of thinking to herself. If Nial caught even an inkling of what she might be thinking, he would probably tie her up and put a dozen guards around her.

  Nial breathed a sigh of relief and caressed his wife’s cheek before giving her a tender kiss on her forehead. “I will send Ellen up to help ye pack. I’ve men readying themselves to take ye to Maggy’s. If ye leave soon, ye can be in Stirling within three days.

  Bree smiled up at her husband and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “When are they set to hang?” she asked over the lump in her throat.

  “If our information is correct, they’re plannin’ on takin’ them to Stirling fer the hangin’. I’m told they’ll be leavin’ Edinburgh in five days’ time. Hopefully, we can figure out what the bloody hell has happened before then and get this all sorted out.”

  “Has anyone talked to Robert? Has anyone appealed to him?” Bree asked. If anyone could stop her father and Duncan from hanging, it was Robert Stewart, High Steward of Scotland. With King David’s capture by the English at Neville’s Cross, Robert Steward was leading their country. Bree knew he was the one and only man at the moment who could help her father and Duncan.

  “I dunnae. I’ve only just been told of what happened. I’ll ken more when we get to Edinburgh. I believe Wee William is now on his way to get an audience with Robert Stewart as we speak.”

  THREE

  Rowan Graham did not wish to leave his wife, not for any length of time. Kate had grown frail, and depressed after having suffered three miscarriages in the past year. It was beginning to seem impossible for Kate to get beyond her third month. The loss of the babes they so desperately wanted was not only taking its toll on his lovely wife’s body, it was killing her spirit. Rowan felt that he lost a little more of Kate each time she lost another babe.

  Rowan wanted to stop all attempts, but Kate was insistent. He did not want to lose his wife, for he adored her. Even though theirs was an arranged marriage, it had not taken long before he was hopelessly in love with Kate. The thought of losing her because she tried to give him an heir made him ill.

  Try as he might to convince her he would rather go his whole life without any children than to spend a moment of it without her, it was of no use. His words fell on obstinate, stubborn and deaf ears. Kate tried to pretend that she was healthy, hail, and hearty. But Rowan saw the subtle changes in her body and her disposition. Ever vivacious, outgoing, and easy with her laughter and smile, his Kate was growing quieter and she seemed to have far less energy than when they first married.

  So when word came that Angus and Duncan were in trouble, Rowan was torn. It had only been a week since Kate’s last miscarriage and he wanted to see her fully recovered before even considering leaving her for any reason. But he had fostered with the MacDougalls for ten years and he loved Angus as much as he loved his real father. And Duncan was the closest thing to a brother that he had.

  Should he stay and see that Kate took care of herself or go to the aid of his foster father and brother? He anguished over the decision. He did not want to leave his wife. But how could he say no to Angus or Duncan or to the Bond of The Seven Clans?


  The bond was an important one. Forged between the MacDougalls and Grahams as well as the clans McKee, McDunnah, Lindsay, Randolph and Carruthers two years ago, he could not very well ignore it. It had taken years of hard work on the part of Angus and Andrew, Rowan’s father, to achieve the peace and friendship the bond afforded all of them. The bond was a promise to stand together against the English or in any other times of trouble.

  Being sentenced to hang for crimes Rowan was quite certain were untrue seemed to be about as dire a circumstance as any. Angus and Duncan needed him. Still, he was quite torn. He could send his father to act as diplomat, but lately, his father had not been faring all that well. Andrew was not much aulder than Angus, but the past months had not been kind to him. Andrew was loathe to admit it, but Rowan could see it plain enough.

  In the end, it was Kate who made the decision for him.