A Highland Knight to Remember (Highland Dynasty Book 3)

by Jarecki, Amy

  Meg moved in front of Gyllis and held her hands firmly. “Lassies, pull the crutches from under her arms.”

  Afraid she’d fall, Gyllis clamped her fingers around Meg’s wrists. “I need those.”

  “Do as I say,” Meg said in an authoritative voice—rather pushy for such a petite woman. She gave Gyllis a stern look. “Were the warm cloths stimulating?”

  Gyllis flexed her muscles. “Aye. I think mayhap they were.”

  “Good, then take a step toward me.”

  She did as told, then took another while Meg slowly backed away. After they’d crossed the floor, Meg pulled her around. “Now do it without holding my hands.”

  Gyllis held fast to her grip. “Oh no, more than a couple of steps and I’ll fall for certain. I always do.”

  Meg gave her a stern look that meant she wouldn’t be accepting no for an answer. “I’ll keep my hands out for you. Grasp them at your first weakness.”

  Gyllis took two unsteady steps and gasped. She’d nearly fallen—but she hadn’t. Oh blessed be the saints.

  “Again,” Meg said with the most reassuring smile Gyllis had ever seen.

  Concentrating very hard, she took another step, followed by another. Gyllis laughed. “My knees are scarcely wobbling.”

  Meg backed further. “Try again.”

  Gyllis stepped forward. Her knee buckled and she listed to the side. Meg clamped onto her shoulders. “Easy lass. You’ve done well.” She turned her attention to the line of chambermaids. “From now on we shall include warm compresses to Miss Gyllis’s treatments of massage.”

  Gyllis could have jumped for joy. “I shall be walking again in no time.” And Sean will be so happy.

  “’Tis what I like to hear.” Her sister-in-law patted her cheek. “If you keep telling yourself you can, you will. Only the naysayer lies abed and allows herself to waste away.”

  “Did you have this many monks tending you at Ardchattan?” Duncan’s deep voice resounded from the doorway.

  A chambermaid slid the crutches under Gyllis’s arms as she shot a shocked glance at her brother. He rarely ever paid a visit to her chamber. “Not by half.”

  Duncan clapped his hands. “Leave us. I need a word with my sister.”

  Gyllis watched the lassies file out of her chamber and wished she could follow them. John’s missive had caught up to her for certain.

  Meg brushed his arm as she walked past. “I shall be in the nursery with Elizabeth and Colin should you need me.” Duncan grinned with a daft look on his face—one he only affected when Lady Meg was present.

  After the door closed, Duncan gestured to the couch. “Let us sit.”

  Gyllis’s legs were noticeably stronger as she moved and took a seat. She leaned her crutches against the table and bit down on her lip to calm her nerves. “How have things been at Kilchurn whilst I’ve been away?” Her high-pitched voice had a tremor. She clenched her fists until her fingernails bit into her palms. Whatever was coming, showing nervousness to Duncan would make him all the more suspicious.

  “John advised you were recovering well and that the priory can no longer handle you.” He took a seat beside her and leaned over, eyebrows slanted inward—definitely not a happy stare. “What the devil did he mean by that?”

  “Ah...” Gyllis stared at her hands, her entire body growing hot as a boiling pot. Stop it Gyllis. He mentioned nothing about Sean. Surely Duncan would have brought him up first had John revealed the night at Dunollie. “Ah…I-I believe one of the monks became infatuated with me.” It was the best she could do on the spur of the moment.

  Duncan sprang to his feet and slammed his fist against the backrest. “I knew it. Did he touch you?” He pounded his fist again. “I’ll kill the bastard. Tell me his name and I’ll see to it he never again looks at another lass.”

  Gyllis waved her hands across her body in rapid succession. “Please no. ’Twas an innocent fascination. He did nothing untoward.”

  “No?” Duncan paced. “Then why did John send you home—using a pair of pegs no less?”

  “They’re crutches and they help me move around quite nicely.” Seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from her indiscretion, Gyllis pointed to the buckets. “Besides, your wife found a new treatment the monks hadn’t used. Already this morning I took seven steps on my own.”

  Duncan sat again and frowned.

  “After today’s treatment, I have no doubt I’ll be walking again soon.” She clapped a hand over her heart. “I give you my vow I’ll not become a burden to the family.”

  “Ah, Gyllis.” He draped an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “Is that what you think? You’ll be a burden?” He snorted. “You’re kin. Even if you’d remained bedridden I’d have taken care of you. You ken that do you not?”

  “Aye.” Yet another tear stung her eye. She’d honestly believed Duncan would send her to a nunnery if she didn’t recover. “Thank you.” She allowed herself to exhale. Thank God for John. He hadn’t betrayed her confidence after all. She owed him a debt of gratitude.

  Now to focus all her energy on her recovery—and finding a way to see Sir Sean as soon as possible.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sean followed the sentry into the keep. How odd to be escorted. He practically knew Kilchurn Castle better than he did Dunollie. God knew he’d spent more time there. The irony was the woman he couldn’t clear from his thoughts was elsewhere. Though Fraser’s death and the blatant message he’d received from MacCoul weighed heavily on his conscience, he couldn’t ride to Kilchurn without thinking of Gyllis.

  He’d decided to keep his intentions to marry the lass quiet for now. First he needed to see Lorn wed, and deal with MacCoul before he approached Duncan for her hand. I should have hanged the bastard when I had him in my grasp. If it hadn’t been the day of my father’s funeral, I never would have allowed Angus to step in. And now look. My failure has caused the death of one of my closest friends.

  The guard knocked on the door to Duncan’s solar—a place where Sean had spent many hours debating Highland Enforcers’ affairs. Though he didn’t realize it at the time, life had been far simpler before he’d inherited his father’s mantle.

  “Sir Sean MacDougall of Dunollie,” the guard announced, as if Sean needed an introduction.

  Duncan shoved his chair back with a grin. He marched forward and clasped Sean at the elbow and held firm—a more personal greeting than a handshake—the one used by the enforcers. “By God, ’tis good to see you.”

  Sean couldn’t bring himself to smile. “You as well.”

  “Too much time has passed.” Duncan gestured to a seat. “Are you ready to rejoin the enforcers? Tension with England is mounting.”

  “I wish I were.” He sat and leaned back with his knees wide. “Being Chieftain of Dunollie has brought on a host of problems.”

  Duncan moved to the sideboard and pulled the stopper out of a flagon. “I’d agree there. I never had an appreciation for my father’s responsibilities until I stepped into his shoes.” He set a cup in front of Sean and raised the one remaining in his hand. “Let us toast to our clans as well as long health.”

  Sean held up his whisky. “Slàinte.” He sipped and swilled the oaken flavor across his tongue. One thing was always a certainty when he visited Kilchurn. There was no finer whisky in all of Scotland than that from Campbell’s still.

  Duncan took his seat at the head of the table. “So, if you’re not itching to head back to the borders, what brings you to Kilchurn?”

  Sean watched the whisky while he swirled it in his cup. He needed to choose his words carefully, else he’d come across as an incompetent boob. “I’ve some grave news…”

  Looking Duncan square in the eye, he leaned forward on his elbow and started with Alan MacCoul’s banishment from Dunollie lands, the cattle thieving, Fraser’s mission and the return of his body—and the missive. “…now I’ve nay choice but to provide fealty service for Lorn’s wedding.”

  Du
ncan thoughtfully rotated the cup in his fingers. “You’re worried about a wedding?”

  Sean tossed back the last of his whisky. “The last thing Fraser said was the whore told him MacCoul was amassing an army.”

  Duncan chuckled. “A bedraggled crew, no doubt. It sounds like a gang of renegades. They’d be no match for your trained men.”

  Sean wished he were as confident as his friend. “I’m not so certain. I think they’re organized.”

  “What kind of men would follow a festering pustule like Alan MacCoul? What means has he?”

  “I know not. But my father had an affinity for the bastard.”

  “Well, you’ve put a damper on your da’s former misguided affections.” Duncan rested his elbows on the table. “My bet is he’ll be a thorn in your side until you lure him back to MacDougall land and arrest him—string him up like you should have done after he attacked you. Christ, he challenged you right after you were declared chieftain?”

  “Aye, I ken what I should have done. But now I cannot take a chance on him causing mischief for the Lord of Lorn.” Sean sat taller. “I need your help, Duncan.”

  “’Tis a wedding, no?” The Lord of Glenorchy smirked.

  “Aye, at Dunstaffnage Chapel.”

  “MacCoul would be an idiot to attack you on the king’s lands. Besides, you’ll have your army as well as Lorn’s. Surely you can handle a wee skirmish.”

  “But I won’t have the stealth of the enforcers. I want to establish an impenetrable barrier for my uncle.”

  Duncan sat back and spread his arms to his sides. “’Tis a wedding for Christ’s sake. Worse, it’s John Stewart, Lord of Lorn’s wedding. If I’m there and something does happen, the Stewart Clan will be blaming me.”

  God, the man made Sean’s worries sound daft. But Sean persisted, “You ken I’d vouch for you.”

  “Aye, after the dust settles.”

  “What about sending in a dozen of your best men? They can wear my colors.”

  “All but a handful are on the borders. Wouldn’t get them back here in time.” Duncan shook his head. “Nay, I’d be daft to call them away from the king’s business to stand watch during a wedding.”

  Sean bit the inside of his cheek. “Bloody hell, Duncan. You’re the closest thing to a brother I have.”

  The lord tapped his finger against his cup. “I ken.”

  “Can you not put aside your fealty for Argyll for a wedding and provide some weapons?”

  “That’s just it.” He ground his finger into the board. “’Tis a miserable wedding—hardly something we need an army for. Christ, man, you’ve at least fifty skilled men in Dunollie’s guard. In my opinion, you are overreacting to Fraser’s death. He rode into the wrong camp is all. You know that as well as I.”

  Sean groaned. “When you say it like that, I feel the fool for having traveled so far to gain your audience.”

  “Not at all. I’m always glad to share a tot with you.” Duncan stood and grabbed the flagon from the sideboard. “If you have more trouble with MacCoul’s thugs thieving your cattle, the enforcers will be able to help you. That’s our motto—to support the king and maintain order.”

  Sean watched him fill his cup with another shot of whisky. Had he overreacted? What would his father have done in his stead? He puzzled. The MacDougalls always had their enemies, but Duncan was right. The Dunollie guard posed a force to be reckoned with. Had Sean lost confidence because of his lack of trust? Angus had proved his loyalty. So had the others for the most part. Even Gawen had proved his loyalty when he kicked the stools at the hanging. It was time for Sean to cast his misgivings aside and lean on his own men for support. Besides, Angus might have better luck soliciting help from Eoin MacGregor.

  Sean raised his cup. “I hope I do not have to take you up on that offer. I intend to squash MacCoul the first time he shows his beastly face.”

  Duncan grinned. Sean hadn’t noticed it before, but the Lord of Glenorchy’s smile was dimpled like Gyllis’s. He sipped the fiery liquid. If Duncan had any idea how often he’d seen Gyllis in the past few months, he’d run him out of Argyllshire. I’d best stick with my plan and leave the topic of marriage alone this trip. Duncan is likely to blow hot steam through his ears—just like old times.

  Duncan shoved his chair back. “Of course you’ll stay for the evening meal—head back on the morrow?”

  “I will, thank you. ’Tis a long ride.”

  “Mayhap we can get in a sparring session afore the meal is served.”

  Sean swirled his fingers over the basket-weave pattern on his sword’s hilt. “I’d welcome a healthy round. No one’s given me a good run since you left me on the borders.”

  Duncan clapped him on the shoulder. “’Tis time you groomed a champion. A chieftain should not be the best sword—’tis not healthy for the longevity of the clan.”

  “Oh?” Sean scoffed. “And why have I not seen any Campbell guard best you?”

  The Lord of Glenorchy winked. “I’m working on it.”

  ***

  Gyllis sat in the embrasure of her window and stared out over Loch Awe. September was always her favorite month. The warmth of summer lingered, though something in the air warned the nice weather wouldn’t last. It made her anxious to enjoy it all the more. This season it also made her anxious to shed her crutches. She’d been suffering paralysis for so long, she yearned for the days without constant care, when she was free to run and dance.

  The chamber door opened and Helen stepped inside carrying a missive. “Have you a moment?”

  “Meg and her retinue of lasses have come and gone.” Gyllis beckoned her. “What is that?”

  Helen skipped over and sat on the padded bench opposite. “I’ve received a letter from Sir Aleck MacIain.”

  “Honestly?” Hopefully this was a pleasant surprise. Gyllis waggled her eyebrows. “What does it say?”

  “He wrote me a poem and said some nice things.”

  Gyllis rolled her hand. “I’m sure you didn’t come in here to talk about the lovely weather we’re having. Read it to me.”

  Gyllis listened to the love letter. The chieftain’s prose put Helen on a pedestal, reassuring her that all would be well, reinforcing she was needed as the lady of the keep in Ardnamurchan posthaste, and Aleck awaited her arrival with fond anticipation. He even signed it “your servant”. When Helen finished reading, she folded the velum and stared at it with a long sigh.

  “He sounds very nice.”

  She nodded her dun locks and pursed her delicate mouth. Gyllis had always considered Helen a bit frailer. Though now stricken with paralysis, Gyllis figured the tides may have changed in that regard. In so many ways over the past months, Gyllis had doubted herself, feared she would be a burden and hated every moment of her dependence.

  But her sister needed reassurance now more than Gyllis did. “Surely, Sir Aleck’s letter has eased your mind.”

  “Aye.” Helen looked up and smiled—a sad smile all the same. “I believe he has a good heart at least.”

  Gyllis leaned forward and patted her hand. “’Tis a start.”

  Her sister stood and moved to the window, gazing out over the loch. “I shall miss this place.”

  Gyllis scooted along the bench and grasped her hand. “And I shall miss you.”

  “I’m ever so anxious.” She glanced at the crutches. “Would you be up to a stroll?”

  “Aye—let us venture to the battlements.”

  Helen’s gaze dropped to Gyllis’s legs. “Are you able to climb that many steps?”

  “I will not know until I try.” She slid back and plucked her crutches from the floor. “I nearly made it across the chamber without these today.”

  “That is wonderful news, but I’m not certain you should be climbing all the way to the battlements. What if you fall?”

  The more Helen balked, the more Gyllis wanted to cast the blasted crutches aside and race her to the top of the stairwell. If only I could. Mayhap they’d be able to race th
e next time they were together. “Come. If I fall, I’ll have a wee bruise. If ’tis too far, we shall turn around.”

  Helen giggled. “I suppose I could always ask a young guard to carry you back to your chamber.”

  Gyllis pulled herself to a stand and started toward the door. “Now that’s the best idea you’ve had in ages.”

  “I thought you were head over heels for Sir Sean.”

  “I am. But I’m not dead.”

  Helen followed her into the passageway. “You’re still incorrigible.”

  “And you are still a prude.”

  Giggling, they made their way up through the narrow stone stairwell winding like a spiral to the wall-walk. At the top, Gyllis leaned against the stone battlements to catch her breath. “I cannot believe I used to run up those stairs.”

  Helen fanned her face. “I cannot believe you’ve suffered paralysis and climbed all the way up here with a set of crutches. You are truly amazing.”

  Gyllis chuckled and took in a deep breath. The deep blue water shimmering on the loch caught her eye. She could see for miles. Even the purple heather on the surrounding hills was in bloom. Violets and lavenders climbed for miles up the slopes of Ben Cruachan, the sight was enough to take her breath away. A breeze caressed her face and summer’s fragrance filled her with renewed energy. “This view made our effort worthwhile.”

  Behind them iron clanged. Gyllis snapped her head around and headed across the stone walk to a crenel notch. “Remember when we used to watch Eoin and Sean spar from this very spot?” She poked her head through the gap. Only two men sparred in the courtyard. She instantly made out her brother, but her heart leapt when she recognized the man with his back to her. Only one man on earth could make her heart stutter an arrhythmic beat—make her knees turn into boneless limbs, and most of all, heat pool in the most sacred place of all.