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

by Suzan Tisdale

  Before leaving the McKee keep, Nial sent word to Bridgett, Angus and Isobel’s adopted daughter. She lived in Ireland with her husband, Timothy, and their four children. Nial wasn’t taking any chances with losing more of Angus’ family. Though it would take weeks for his men to reach the tiny village where Bridgett and her family lived, he felt it made sense to warn them of the situation.

  Nial could only hope there would be a happy outcome to this mess. He dreaded the thought of sending word to Bridgett that her father and brother were dead.

  While Findley and Maggy had been expecting Caelen and Nial and their men, they were not prepared for Bree and her babe. They had been standing at the top of the steps that led into their home when they caught sight of Bree and little Jamie. After exchanging confused glances with one another, Findley and Maggy welcomed their friends with open arms, careful not to show the concern each of them felt. Both had similar lines of thought: If Bree and Jamie are here, then things are far worse than we thought.

  Bree had been perched atop her husband’s lap, with Jamie wrapped in her arms for most of the ride. The damp air and biting wind made it feel more like late winter than summertime. Nial draped a heavy fur around his wife and babe, shielding them from the harsh weather. He was quite proud of his son, even though he was just a bairn. Jamie had been very little trouble on the journey. Kept fed and dry, he was perfectly content in his mother’s arms.

  Nial guided his horse toward the steps of the keep. Stable boys appeared immediately to tend to their horses. Findley bounded down the steps and handed Jamie off to Maggy before helping Bree down. In no time, the family was ushered into the warm and dry keep.

  “We were no’ expecting ye, Bree!” Maggy exclaimed as she led them into the large gathering room.

  Bree was exhausted, but not so much that she couldn’t take notice of the opulent surroundings. Maggy’s home was filled with fine, ornately carved furniture. Beautiful paintings and tapestries hung on nearly every wall. Three heavy iron chandeliers filled with too many candles to count hung from the beamed ceiling. Instead of rushes covering the wood floor, dozens of finely crafted rugs were scattered about. Bree imagined they could have fit four, mayhap five of her homes inside this beautiful castle.

  “Och!” Maggy said as Bree pulled down the hood of her heavy cloak. “Lass, yer soaked to the bone!” She was still holding Jamie, bouncing from one leg to the other as she kissed his soft cheeks.

  Bree laughed. “Aye, we did no’ stop much and neither did the rain.”

  “We’ll get ye settled into a warm room above stairs. We’ll get ye all baths and food, and ye can tell me what the devil is happenin’ with yer da and family.”

  Before Bree could explain that she knew very little, Nial was at her side. He rested a hand on her waist and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

  Bree smiled but remained quiet as they were all led above stairs. She wanted to get out of her wet clothes and into a hot bath. As bone tired and cold as she felt, she thought it might be a day or two before she felt warm again. She wished she could climb into a soft, warm bed with Nial’s arms wrapped around her and forget about the rest of the world.

  Then she thought of her father and Duncan.

  The image of them sitting in a dungeon in Edinburgh was the one thing that kept her moving one foot determinedly in front of the other. In the beginning of this journey, anger over the accusations had boiled her blood enough to help keep the chill away. But now, the anger had turned to worry and it was difficult to keep a positive outlook or to remain hopeful.

  I am the daughter of Angus and Isobel, Bree thought as she slipped behind a dressing screen and stripped out of her wet clothes. When she tossed her dress across the top of the screen, it nearly toppled over. Maggy, still holding Jamie, offered her a heavy blanket before turning her attention back to the cooing babe.

  “He’s a beautiful lad,” Maggy offered as she gently bounced the babe in her arms. “If he is as calm as his da is, I think he’d suit me Deirdre. She already has me temper. She’ll need a good, calm man to keep her in check.”

  Bree smiled slightly as she sat in a chair next to the fire. “Sometimes I wish his da was no’ so calm,” Bree admitted.

  Maggy looked up from the babe and smiled warmly at Bree. “Aye, I suppose so. I’d wager that ye be wantin’ him to race to Edinburgh and lay siege to the whole town so that he can get yer da and Duncan out of this mess.”

  Bree nodded her head and fought back the tears. “I ken it sounds foolish, but aye, that is what I wish we could do.”

  Jamie started to fuss and suck on his fist. “I think he’s hungry,” Maggy offered as she placed the babe in Bree’s arms.

  Bree opened the blanket just enough to give Jamie room to suckle. He latched on quickly and his expression made her chuckle. “As if ye haven’t eaten in days,” she told him. “Yer da gets that hungry, desperate look in his eyes, too.”

  Maggy giggled as she pulled a chair up to sit across from Bree. “So it isn’t just Findley that does that? Gets the look of a man starved half out of his mind?”

  Bree giggled her agreement. “From what Aishlinn and me mum tell me,” her voice trailed off at thinking of her parents and family. Her stomach felt heavy, tight, the worry continuing to build.

  No matter what her father and Duncan had admitted, she refused to believe them. It simply was not possible.

  “Maggy,” she said as soft tears made their way down her cheeks. “I ken in me heart that me da is no traitor.”

  Maggy nodded her head but remained quiet.

  “And neither is Duncan. They’d no more betray their country or King David than Nial or Findley would!” Frustration began to wrap its way around her heart. “I do no’ care that they’ve admitted guilt. I can only think they did so because of mum and Aishlinn. No one kens where they be. Mayhap someone has taken them, holds them against their will and is forcing Da and Duncan to do this. ’Tis the only thing that makes any sense.”

  “Aye, ’tis possible,” Maggy said softly. “I do no’ ken Angus or Duncan well, but they do no’ strike me as traitors. And Findley agrees.”

  They sat in silence for some time, their eyes absentmindedly transfixed on the suckling babe in Bree’s arms. A knock on the door shook the women from their quiet reverie. Maggy bid entry and a moment later three lads entered, with buckets full of hot water.

  “Thank ye kindly, lads,” Maggy said as they made their way to the tub behind the screen. One by one they emptied the steamy water into the tub before quietly leaving the room.

  “Ye’ll feel better after a bath and a hot meal,” Maggy told Bree as she took the now sleeping Jamie from her arms.

  Bree sat still for a moment before shaking her head. “Nay, I’ll no’ feel better until me da and Duncan are safely out of Edinburgh.”

  Two hours later, Bree and Maggy kissed their husbands goodbye. Before the men were out of the courtyard, Maggy and Bree began making plans of their own. The men were heading to Edinburgh with the hope they could talk Phillip Lindsay into rescinding the death sentence.

  “I’ll no’ let me father hang fer something I know in me heart he did no’ do,” Bree said as she paced anxiously across the floor of the bedchamber. “And I ken as well that Duncan would never betray his country,” she rambled on, paying very little attention to Maggy.

  Maggy said nothing as she sat in a chair next to the fire and nursed her new daughter, Elizabeth. The child suckled contentedly as she held onto Maggy’s index finger. The babe looked like her da, as did two-year-old Deirdre. Maggy’s five boys were in charge of keeping little Deirdre out of trouble this morning.

  Findley was Angus’ nephew. His father, Collom McKenna, Angus’ younger brother, had been killed in the same massacre that took Duncan McEwan’s family. Though Findley was the eldest of the three lads, he had made it known early on that he had no desire to become chief. He preferred, instead, to be warrior.

  But life does not always turn out the way one wishes. Findle
y, through his marriage to Maggy, was now the proud chief of their growing clan. Maggy’s first husband, Gawter De Menteith, had been the seventh Earl of Kerse. Blessedly, the pox had taken the hard, cruel man, years earlier.

  “I do no’ like just sitting here, waiting!” Bree was growing angrier as the moments passed by.

  Maggy looked up from her daughter and smiled. “Angus and Duncan haven’t even left Edinburgh yet.”

  Suddenly, an idea came to Bree. She stopped in her tracks, spun and looked at Maggy with wide eyes and a smile that began to grow as the idea formed into a full-fledged plan. Her anger and dread were rapidly fading away as hope began to build.

  “Maggy,” Bree said excitedly. “I have an idea…” her words trailed off and she began to chew on her thumbnail.

  Maggy’s brows drew inward as she tilted her head. “What kind of idea?” she asked.

  Bree took a quick breath in before answering. “What if Angus and Duncan didna arrive in Stirling at all?”

  Bree could almost see the wheels in Maggy’s mind begin to turn. “Bree, ye be far more devious than I could have imagined.”

  Maggy understood, as well as anyone, the lengths to which a mother would go to protect her children. She imagined too, that if Findley were in the same predicament as Angus and Duncan, she would do whatever she could to help him.

  “Of course, we’ll be needin’ help,” Maggy said as she looked down at her daughter, who was now content and fast asleep. “Findley took most of the men to Stirling. But, he didna take all those that could help us.”

  Bree’s smile grew along with the twinkle in her eyes. For the first time in days she began to feel hopeful. Aye, her husband would probably be very upset with her. In the end, however, she knew he would understand.

  EIGHT

  Twenty-five mounted soldiers surrounded the prison wagon that held Angus McKenna and Duncan McEwan. Ten soldiers led the way down the rutted, winding path to Stirling. The remaining guards were at the rear.

  Large puddles of murky water littered the rough road. The trees hung limp, weighed down by the relentless rain. The deep green leaves, the near black tree trunks, the sodden ground and the gloomy sky left the prisoners longing for the comforts of home and hearth.

  It was difficult to judge the exact time of day by looking at the sky, for it was as gray as an auld Highlander’s beard. Under different circumstances, Angus might have relied on his belly to tell him the time. His stomach had given up growling some days ago and he swore he’d never eat another bowl of gruel again, no matter how long he might or might not live.

  Duncan longed to be home with his wife and bairns. If by some divine intervention he made it out of this alive -- there was a very good chance that he wouldn’t -- he would take a long hot bath and climb into his soft warm bed with Aishlinn. And he would not leave the comfort of that bed or her arms for at least a month.

  A light breeze flittered through the bars of the prison wagon, stirring the fetid air. Angus doubted man had yet to create a word that would describe the awful stench that emanated from his body. Sweat and grime blended together to create such a foul smell that it burned his nose and caused his eyes to water. He imagined a roll in horse dung would be an improvement over the revolting way he currently smelled. It was no wonder the soldiers were keeping their distance.

  Angus chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Ye’d think they were transportin’ the king himself,” he said.

  Duncan agreed. “Aye. But I think I’d prefer one of the king’s coaches to this,” he said as he shoved bits of dirty rushes away with his feet.

  They were the only passengers -- if one could call them that seeing how they were chained together at their wrists and ankles. Side by side, they sat with their backs against the solid wall of the wagon.

  Stale rushes strewn across the floor smelled of urine and vomit. These weren’t worst living conditions Angus had ever experienced, but it they were close.

  They were less than a day’s ride from Stirling. Angus calculated that at their current pace, it would be long after nightfall before they arrived at Stirling Castle.

  Although it had been difficult to receive word about his wife, daughter and grandchildren, it had not been impossible. Aye, he knew the bastards who had taken them. Knew them all to well. And the bastards knew that there was nothing Angus would not do for any of them. Arrogantly, the fools believed they had the upper hand. What they did not know however was that Angus’ death did not necessarily mean that they themselves would succeed. Neither did it mean they would live beyond another fortnight.

  The fools took too much for granted, were far too arrogant to see any errors with their plan to see him hang. In the end, it would be their greed, arrogance and stupidity that would seal their fates. Whether Angus hanged or not, it simply didn’t matter. They were dead men. They just didn’t realize it yet. Chances were they would not see it until the very last moment, right before a sword gutted them or the noose draped around their necks. No matter what method of death was eventually chosen, they would die.

  Angus took some satisfaction in knowing that fact.

  An eerie silence had fallen across the land. The rain had kept the birds, red deer, and other animals in seclusion. The silence was broken only by the sound of the heavy hooves slopping through the mud and muck, the occasional jingle of harness, the creaking of the wagon, and the occasional whisper between Angus and Duncan. It had been some time since the guards had uttered a single word.

  Angus wondered how many of the soldiers were enjoying this foray north to Stirling. A few of them refused to look Angus in the eye, either out of shame for his misdeeds or fear of his reputation as a warrior. At the moment, he didn’t care what the reasons were for their silence. He was glad to be left alone.

  He cast a sideways glance at Duncan. His son-in-law was as good a warrior, man, husband and father as they came. Angus felt guilty for having Duncan involved this mess. He had done everything he could to keep him out of it, but the young man was just as stubborn as Angus.

  He had spent days trying to convince Duncan to remain behind and finally take over the role of chief. No matter how Angus tried to convince Duncan that the clan was going to need him as their new chief, Duncan stubbornly refused to listen. Duncan was adamant that Angus needed his help more than the clan did or would.

  Duncan had not been a party to everything that had transpired over the past year. In fact, no charges had ever been leveled against him. But when they came to arrest Angus, Duncan had stepped in, like a fool, and had falsely admitted to being involved. Had Angus not already been shackled, he would have beaten some sense into the young man's thick head or at least tried to.

  It was too late now to save the man from himself. Duncan knew too much -- not all of it mind you, but enough to be dangerous.

  “Do ye think Aishlinn will forgive me?” Duncan asked quietly. He sat with one knee drawn up, a shackled wrist resting on it. His leather trews and once white tunic were covered in dirt and grime and mud splatter. Even with his eyes closed, his face held a solemn expression.

  Angus did not need to take any time to think on it. “Aye, she will. Aishlinn is a smart young woman.” Angus told him.

  “That she is,” Duncan readily agreed. “She must get that from her mum.”

  Angus smiled wanly and nodded his head. Considering where he was at this moment, he had to agree with Duncan’s assessment. Were they anywhere but inside a prison wagon, Angus would have taken credit for his daughter’s intelligence and tenacity.

  “Do ye think they’ll ever know why we’ve done what we’ve done?”

  Angus filled his dirty cheeks with air and let it out slowly. “Aye, they will. Eventually,” he answered, knowing full well that it would be years before anyone might learn the truth. Let Duncan hold on to what little hope he had, Angus thought to himself.

  It wasn’t supposed to have ended up this way. When he had started on this journey, he had no intentions of ever being hanged a
s a traitor.

  But hang he would, if it meant his people could live in peace.

  NINE

  Rowan Graham had met up with Nial, Caelen, and Findley in the early morning hours at an inn in Edinburgh. Nial filled his friend in on what he knew, and more importantly, what he didn’t know. Rowan reciprocated. They still had no earthly idea where Isobel, Aishlinn and the babes were. The longer they went without knowing, the bigger the knot in Nial’s stomach grew.

  They decided that Findley would take to the streets of Edinburgh. Rumors often ran amok at times like these and sometimes those rumors held fragments of truth. It might be possible to learn where Isobel and Aishlinn were or some other bit of information that could help Angus and Duncan. While Findley went in search of information, Nial, Caelen and Rowan slept, knowing it could be some time before any of them enjoyed that luxury again.