Highland Warrior

by Connie Mason

  McHamish motioned Gillian toward a bench before the hearth. Gillian shook her head.

  “A dram of whiskey, then?”

  Gillian shook her head again. Mustering her courage, she asked, “Did you attack my husband? Did you run him through with your sword? You must have caught him unaware, for I see no mark from his sword on you.”

  McHamish remained silent a long time. Then he seemed to collapse inward, his stance less confident. “He isna dead, then?”

  “Damn you to everlasting hell!” Gillian shouted as she threw off her cloak and pulled her sword from its sheath in one smooth motion. “You didna kill Ross, but even as we speak, he lies near death.” She waved her sword threateningly before McHamish’s face. “How could you? What reason did you have to run him through and leave him to die on the frozen ground? What did Ross ever do to you?”

  “Put your sword away,” McHamish ordered. “I was in a rage and sought revenge after Angus Sinclair informed me of Ross MacKenna’s insult to my daughter.”

  Gillian thrust her sword toward McHamish’s gut. McHamish whirled away, surprisingly agile for a man her father’s age. “What lies did Angus tell you?”

  “Step back and I’ll tell you, though I doubt they were lies,” McHamish added.

  Gillian retreated a step, but did not let her guard down.

  “Go ahead and speak, though your excuses will make no difference. Ross did naught to Seana.”

  “According to Sinclair, MacKenna tossed Seana aside like dirty laundry when he wed you. And that was after he forced her to whore for him. Then he gave her to one of his rough kinsman, a man who beats her regularly. Seana sent me a message that she isna happy in her handfast marriage, but MacKenna willna let her leave Ravenscraig. I did what was necessary to avenge my daughter’s honor.”

  Shocked, Gillian lowered her sword a little. “You were a fool to listen to Angus Sinclair. Both he and your daughter are liars. They conspired together to do Ross harm. Angus hates Ross and wishes him ill, and he used you to do his bidding without risking his own neck.”

  McHamish sputtered indignantly. “Are you accusing my daughter of treachery?”

  “Aye, I am. Arm yourself, Douglas McHamish. Unlike you, I willna hail you as a friend and skewer you with my sword when you least expect it, as you did to Ross.”

  McHamish drew himself up to his full height. “Are you daft? I canna fight a woman.”

  “Fight or die,” Gillian challenged.

  Chapter Eleven

  Douglas McHamish spread his arms. “I amna armed, lass.”

  Gillian glanced about the solar, saw McHamish’s sword leaning against the hearth, and motioned to it with her head. “Fetch your weapon, McHamish.”

  McHamish lowered his arms, clearly reluctant to engage Gillian in battle. “I willna. Run me though if you wish, but doona expect me to fight a woman.”

  “Why not? You attacked a man who considered you a friend, a man unaware of your vicious intent. Take up your sword!” Gillian repeated, unwilling to listen to any more lame excuses.

  McHamish shook his head. “If what you say about Seana and Sinclair is true, then I have been sorely misled by my own daughter and the Sinclair chieftain. Kill me if you wish—I will do naught to stop you.”

  Gillian’s sword wavered. Killing McHamish would solve naught if Angus Sinclair and Seana were the culprits.

  “If you think it will help, I will go to Ravenscraig, explain what happened and why, and bring my daughter home, if I am allowed to leave alive,” McHamish added. “I acted out of anger and shame before I had time to analyze the situation fully.” His expression hardened. “Angus Sinclair has much to answer for.”

  Startled, Gillian asked, “You would go to Ravenscraig and confess?”

  “Aye, the Highland code demands it of me. I ken now that my unprovoked attack upon the MacKenna laird was a despicable act. It shames me to think I have been duped by my own daughter and her accomplice.”

  Gillian couldn’t kill a man who had been made a fool of, a man who expressed sorrow for being led astray and acting impulsively. Though McHamish had wielded the sword that wounded Ross, Angus Sinclair was the real culprit, and Sinclair must be the one to pay with his life.

  “I willna kill you, Douglas McHamish. I shall let Ross and his kinsmen decide your punishment. But Angus Sinclair willna escape so easily; this I vow.”

  “What are you going to do, lass?”

  “What I intended to do when I left Ravenscraig: kill the man responsible for harming Ross.” She turned to leave.

  “Wait! You are but one woman. I should be the one to challenge Sinclair for the lies he told me, and for my wounding and mayhap killing a man I considered a friend.”

  “Nay,” Gillian replied. “Justice would best be served if you went to Ravenscraig and told Niall and Gordo exactly what you’ve told me. If they continue to blame my father, I fear the blood feud between our clans will resume. ’Tis what Sinclair wants, you know, though t doona ken why.”

  McHamish bowed his head. “I will do as you ask, Gillian MacKay. If the MacKenna spares my life, I will be grateful. If not, I will die knowing I did the right thing. As for Seana, even though she has sinned grievously against the MacKinna laird, I pray she begs forgiveness and is allowed to live.”

  Gillian nodded curtly, turned on her heel, and strode off, purpose etched on her beautiful features. Without a backward glance she marched down the stairs and out the door, ignoring Eileen, who followed her to the door.

  “Are you leaving already, Gillian MacKay? I’m sure Douglas would want you to partake of our hospitality. We are about to sit down to our midday meal. Will you join us?”

  Gillian stopped just short of the door. She had no food to eat on her journey to Sinclair’s stronghold, which she estimated would take at least four hours to reach, longer if the weather turned nasty. She glanced out the window and saw that snow was beginning to fall. If she was caught in a blizzard, she would never make it to her destination. And above all else, she wanted to kill Angus Sinclair.

  “You canna leave now, lass,” McHamish advised as he came up to join his wife. “Darkness arrives early this time of year; you could be stranded on the road in a blizzard. Bide the night with us. I doona want your death on my conscience.”

  “Verra well. I will sup with you, but I still intend to leave today, if the weather allows.”

  The weather did not allow. Gillian was forced to spend the day in idle pursuits with McHamish’s wife. As the light waned, Gillian stood at the window and watched in despair as the wind rose and snow swirled in aimless patterns. Though she was desperately anxious to leave, she was forced to accept McHamish’s invitation to spend the night.

  After the evening meal, Elaine led Gillian to a tiny, cheerless chamber with a listless fire burning in the hearth. Elaine held the door open for Gillian and followed her inside, carefully closing the door behind her.

  “What business did you have with my husband?” she asked bluntly. “Pray, tell me it has naught to do with my stepdaughter. Seana is a shameless hussy, and I doona want her to return. My husband’s keep is more peaceful since she left us.”

  “Seana is Niall MacKenna’s handfast wife,” Gillian stated. “Nevertheless, my visit has a great deal to do with Seana. I think your husband should be the one to tell you what he did in the name of justice, misguided though he was.”

  “I knew Seana would bring grief to Douglas,” Elaine wailed, wringing her hands. “Good sleep, Gillian MacKay. I will see that you are provided with food for your journey when you leave.”

  Gillian slept little that night. Despite his words of repentance, she did not entirely trust McHamish after what he had done to Ross. She kept her sword close at hand and slept in her clothing. During the long night, Gillian heard the wind subside, and she hoped the snow had ceased as well.

  Gillian awoke shortly after dawn, performed simple ablutions, and went down to the hall. McHamish was up and waiting for her. The first thing Gillian did
was walk to the window and peer outside. A murky daylight had chased away the lingering darkness, revealing snow upon the ground but no wind to speak of. She turned back to McHamish.

  “I will leave as soon as I break my fast.”

  “I assumed as much, and asked Cook to prepare food for your journey. I will be leaving for Ravenscraig myself in a few days, after I see to my affairs here. Doona do anything foolish, lass. I ken you consider yourself a warrior, but you are still a woman. Think you MacKenna will appreciate your risking your life for him?”

  “My life is my own to risk,” Gillian said tartly. “I am a skilled swordsman; avenging Ross is something I must do to win Clan MacKenna’s respect.”

  A serving woman entered the hall with bowls of steaming porridge. Though Gillian made a face, she forced herself to eat, knowing the gruel would fortify her for the difficult day ahead.

  Gillian was surprised and very happy when she saw the sun peeping out from behind a cloud. It was a good omen. McHamish sent her on her way with a sack of food and a warning to be wary of Sinclair.

  “Beware, lass. If Sinclair could convince me to kill the MacKenna, he is capable of almost anything,” McHamish cautioned.

  “You think because I am a woman he will take advantage of me?”

  Mchamish had the grace to flush. “In part, lass, but also because he is crafty and without morals.”

  “I can take care of myself. You havena changed your mind about going to Ravenscraig and confessing your crime, have you?”

  “Nay, lass, I havena. Your mare is saddled and waiting outside for you.”

  A serving girl approached with a sack of food, which Gillian tucked under her arm. “Good-bye, Douglas McHamish. I hope Clan MacKenna treats you with more kindness than they treated me. I canna attest to their willingness to listen to you, for you harmed their laird; they may slay you before they hear you out.”

  McHamish inclined his head. “I accept that I did wrong and that Highland justice will prevail.”

  Gillian nodded and took her leave. “Good luck,” she threw over her shoulder.

  Gillian knew she had hours of hard riding ahead of her. But thoughts of Ross lying pale and helpless in what might be his deathbed spurred her on. Killing the man responsible for hurting Ross had become an obsession.

  When had she stopped thinking of Ross as the enemy? Gillian wondered. When had love replaced hatred? The realization that she loved Ross MacKenna was so stunning, she brought Silver to a halt to contemplate what she had just learned about herself.

  Did Ross return her love? Once she killed Angus Sinclair, Ross would know the full extent of her feelings for him.

  Gillian resumed her journey, stopping only to eat and to rest her horse at midday. She reached the Sinclair stronghold an hour before dusk. She rode through the gate without being challenged. Apparently Sinclair was not expecting trouble. She continued on across the bailey and dismounted before the front entrance. It was an unpretentious keep built on a lesser scale than Ravenscraig and Braeburn. It wasn’t even as large as McHamish Keep. In the not-too-distant past, Gillian had been anxious to wed Angus and become mistress of Angus’s home. Until her conversation with McHamish, she had never imagined Angus being capable of such evildoings. What did he hope to gain by killing Ross? Or seeing the feud resume?

  Gillian lifted the large brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head and banged on the door. Angus himself opened it.

  “Gillian, what are you doing here?” Angus asked. His expression held a wariness that Gillian would have sworn was guilt. “Have you finally decided to leave your husband?”

  “I ken what you did, Angus,” Gillian said as she pushed past Sinclair.

  Sinclair closed the door behind her. “Mayhap it would help if you told me what you’re referring to.”

  “I spoke with Douglas McHamish.”

  Angus stiffened. “I doona ken what you are trying to tell me.”

  “Ross lies near death at Ravenscraig.”

  A sly smirk curved Angus’s lips. “Which of his enemies finally did the deed?”

  Gillian threw off her cloak and pulled her sword from its sheath. “You tell me, Angus. Why did you incite McHamish to attack Ross?”

  “Is that what McHamish told you?”

  “Aye, and I believe him. You and Seana conspired together at my brother’s wedding feast to end Ross’s life. But you failed. He was still alive when I left Ravenscraig.”

  “You didna leave Ravenscraig; you were forced to go. I was told MacKenna’s kinsmen blame Clan MacKay for the attack upon their laird.”

  “How do you know? Has Seana has been in touch with you?”

  Angus laughed. “Aye, she has been a font of information. MacKenna got what he deserved for stealing my intended bride. The feud never should have ended. Once Ross is dead, the fighting will resume, and your father will see the wisdom of giving you to me.”

  “What wisdom? I doona ken your thinking. How will Ross’s death help you and Seana?”

  “Seana will become mistress of Ravenscraig and wife to the new laird. ‘Twas all she ever wanted. As for me, one day you will ken what it is I desire, but now is not the time. You are here—’tis all that matters. Put away your sword, lass, afore you hurt yourself.”

  Gillian raised her weapon. “I am going to kill you, Angus Sinclair.”

  “My hands are clean, Gillian. No one can blame me for attacking your husband. Even if MacKenna has the wits to name his killer before he dies, it willna be me.”

  “McHamish wouldna have attacked Ross if you and Seana hadna goaded him into it.”

  Gillian jabbed Angus’s shoulder with the tip of her sword, drawing blood. Angus cursed and leaped backward. Immediately two kinsmen rushed to his defense.

  “Coward!” Gillian taunted. “Are you afraid to defend yourself? Do you need help subduing a mere woman?”

  “My sword,” Angus said.

  One of Angus’s kinsmen tossed him a sword. He caught it handily and used it to push aside Gillian’s weapon. “I doona want to hurt my intended wife, lass. My future depends upon our marriage.”

  “I will never become your wife,” Gillian spat. She raised her sword and leaped forward.

  Sinclair seemed surprised at the fierceness of Gillian’s attack. Frantically he parried her savage thrusts. His shock at her expertise was evidenced in his deep scowl and by his eagerness to retreat from the sharp point of Gillian’s sword.

  “Stop it, Gillian!” Angus spat. “Stop it, I say!”

  Gillian ignored him, for she knew he finally realized he was fighting for his life. Though Angus was larger, stronger, and his sword heavier, Gillian was fast, accurate, and determined. She silently rejoiced when she saw sweat break out on Angus’s forehead. Even though it might mean her death, Gillian was determined to kill Angus Sinclair. Never had she wanted anything so badly.

  Angus danced away and glanced at the blood flowing down his arm, where Gillian’s sword had pierced his flesh. “This is madness, Gillian. I doona want to kill you. Desist now or suffer the consequences.”

  “Kill me if you can, Angus. If Ross dies, I have naught to live for.”

  Angus skipped away from a particularly brutal thrust that could have slit his gullet. “This is ridiculous. Seize her!”

  Angus’s guard was down. Gillian was preparing to lunge forward to deliver the lethal blow when she was seized from behind, her arms pinned at her sides and her sword plucked from her hand. Though she fought hard to escape, two of Angus’s kinsmen held her fast.

  “Now then,” Angus said, wiping sweat from his forehead, “we will see who has the upper hand. Sinclair Keep was to be your home at one time; I hope you enjoy your stay here.”

  “I amna staying,” Gillian proclaimed. “Only a coward refuses a challenge. Do you fear me so much that you had to call for help?”

  Angus looked as if he wanted to strike her. His fists were clenched, his eyes dark with anger. “I fear no woman, Gillian MacKay. I need you alive; killing you
would serve naught.”

  “I doona ken your meaning. What will keeping me here against my will gain you? I am wed to another man.”

  Angus grinned. “MacKenna is a dead man. If he isna dead yet, he will be soon, with a wee bit of help from a friend.”

  “Are you suggesting one of Ross’s kinsmen would harm him? No one but Niall would gain from his death, and Niall would never harm Ross. I’d stake my life on it.”

  Angus said naught. Gillian gasped; it suddenly occurred to her to whom Angus was referring. “Seana! You two are working hand in hand to end Ross’s life. Ross’s death will make her mistress of Ravenscraig.”

  “Lock my intended wife in the tower,” Angus ordered. When Gillian started to protest, Angus said, “Fear not, Gillian; the tower chamber is comfortably furnished. I’m sure you will enjoy your stay there.”

  Ravenscraig Castle

  Gizela refused to allow Seana inside Ross’s chamber without supervision. Though Niall questioned her motives, the healer adamantly refused to back down. When Gizela wasn’t in attendance, Alice took her place.

  The day after Gillian had been forcibly evicted from Ravenscraig, Ross awakened, his memory still confused as to the events that had caused the pain he was feeling. Though he had called out for Gillian time and again, he knew instinctively that the hand soothing his hot brow did not belong to his wife.

  When the haze cleared from Ross’s eyes, he looked for Gillian, but saw Gizela instead. His mouth was so dry he had difficulty finding moisture to wet his tongue so he could speak.

  “What... happened?”

  “So you finally decided to join the living.” Gizela cackled. “What do you remember?”

  “Naught. Have... I been ... drugged?”

  “Only enough to ease your pain. Infection came despite my best efforts to prevent it.”