Highland Champion

by Hannah Howell

  “Nay? Whilst I hid safely at the monastery, ye lost your wife and your livelihood.” She briefly touched his injured hand again. “I ken how much ye loved your work.”

  “Still do.”

  “Ye can still carve and all with this hand?”

  “Och, nay, but it doesnae matter. Ye see, m’lady, I hide it weel for some still think it the mark of the devil, but, weel, I favor my left hand. Always have.” He smiled fleetingly and then sighed. “I would let the bastard take my carving hand if it would give me back my Joan. I dinnae care what the men have taken from her, if ye ken my meaning, save that it will hurt her in body and soul. I just want her back. Without her, I cannae see the beauty in the wood or metals, cannae bring it out.”

  “We will get her and the others back,” Liam said, the man’s sharp look telling him that Malcolm had heard the vow weighting every word.

  “Ye have fighting men with ye?” Malcolm asked.

  “Some and more to come.”

  “Rauf and his men are good.”

  “We are better.” Liam smiled. “We also have men with us who could steal the shroud off a corpse e’en as the dead mon’s kinsmen lower him into the grave. And get clean away.”

  “I am nay sure that is something to be so proud of,” Keira murmured.

  “Mayhap not,” agreed Liam, “but ’tis useful.”

  “And then ye will be our laird?”

  “Keira tells me that ye are the true heir although ye be bastard born.”

  “I dinnae want to be the laird. Ne’er have. Told m’lady’s father the same when he asked. I just want to be with my Joan and search for the beauty in the woods and the metals. Nay, if ye rid us of Rauf Moubray, ye are more than welcome to be our laird. Duncan kenned that I didnae want that duty. ’Tis one reason he sought a wife. Aye, and we were all willing to accept her as our laird if aught happened to Duncan.”

  “But a mon as the laird would be so much better, of course,” muttered Keira, and then she almost smiled when both men eyed her warily.

  “Weel, aye, if only to keep others from trying to claim Ardgleann,” said Malcolm. “Just who are ye?” he asked Liam.

  “Oh, sweet heavens, I ne’er introduced ye to each other, did I?” Keira shook her head. “Malcolm, this is Sir Liam Cameron of Dubheidland, my husband, as I said. Liam, this is Malcolm MacKail, Duncan’s half-brother, though ’tis evident he still wishes to keep that a secret from most people.” As the two men nodded to each other, she continued, “He is also kin to the MacFingals of Scarglas.” She briefly smiled at Malcolm’s look of confusion. “They are Camerons, too, but the old laird had a falling out with his kinsmen and gave himself a new name. It is still being argued over.”

  “A tale I shall wish to hear when this trouble ends. Who are the reivers?”

  “The MacFingals,” Liam replied. “They are fine fighters as weel, mayhap e’en better than my kinsmen, though I risk a lot in saying so. Most of them have spent near all their lives surrounded by men eager to kill them.”

  “And yet they still live.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How many fighting men do ye have with ye?”

  “Forty, give or take a few. Camerons, MacFingals, MacEnroys and a few of their allies, and some Murrays.”

  “And Kester and Sir Archie,” said Keira. “Ye forgot them.”

  Liam exchanged a brief look with Malcolm, and the man nearly smiled, revealing that he understood there was a good reason Liam had not included them in his tally of fighting men. “Dinnae fear, lass; I will yet think of a way to make use of them, one that willnae hurt their pride and yet give them a goodly chance of surviving the battle.”

  Keira grimaced. Kester and Archie had courage and honor, but Liam was right to exclude from his count of good fighting men. Kester was showing improvement and revealing some skills that could make him a valuable asset in the future, but he was still a beardless boy who spent far too much time sprawled on the ground. And poor Sir Archie, she thought with a sigh. He had skill and knowledge, but unless she could find a way to help him see the world as more than a blur, he would be as great a threat to his allies as to his enemies.

  “What do ye need from me?” asked Malcolm.

  “Information,” replied Liam, and he immediately began to ask Malcolm about the defense of Ardgleann and the strength of Rauf’s forces.

  As she listened to the men, Keira felt her fear stir to life, and she struggled to bury it again. In the weeks since he had taken hold of Ardgleann, Rauf Moubray had strengthened its defenses. The man obviously had a keen eye for any weakness that could be made use of by an enemy. It did not surprise her that the first thing Rauf had done was seal off all the hidden entrances to the keep. The only way into Ardgleann still appeared to be over the high walls or straight through the gates. Such battles would cost an attacker dearly in men, dead and wounded. Keira wanted to put a stop to it all, but she knew that was impossible.

  Her sense of guilt was like some live thing writhing inside her. If she had come sooner, Rauf would not have been so securely settled within the walls of Ardgleann, poor Malcolm would not be maimed, and the women of Ardgleann would not be suffering so grievously. No matter how many reasons she gave herself, it was mostly fear that had kept her hiding at the monastery.

  In an attempt to push aside the bitter taste of failure and thoughts of her own cowardice, she studied Malcolm’s hand and then reached for it. He started slightly, but Liam held his attention. Keira knew Duncan had told Malcolm of her gifts, but she suspected Malcolm had nurtured doubts, perhaps even some fear. For now, however, the man seemed willing to allow her to do whatever she wished, and Keira took quick advantage of it.

  It was not until she released Malcolm’s hand and opened her eyes that Keira realized the men had ceased talking. Malcolm was staring at her in wide-eyed astonishment, but she saw no sign of fear or horror. Liam, however, had his hand on the man’s forearm, holding it firmly in place. She had been so lost in Malcolm’s pain and her struggles to discern the extent of his injuries, she had not even noticed that at some point, he had obviously made an attempt to pull free of her grip.

  “Do ye have any bread, honey, and cider?” Liam asked Malcolm when he saw Keira sway slightly and grip the edge of the table to steady herself.

  “Aye.” Malcolm started to stand up, but liam was already on his feet, and he held him in his seat with one hand upon his shoulder.

  “Nay. ’Tis best if ye stay seated. Tell me where it is.”

  Liam quickly served Keira the bread, honey, and cider, silently urging Malcolm to have some as well. He ignored the man as he urged Keira to concentrate, whispering to her as he helped her to picture cool water washing away the pain now resting in her hand. Then he sat down and, ignoring her weak protests, took her onto his lap and held her close. He smiled faintly when in less than a minute, she slumped against him, sleeping deeply.

  “Duncan was right,” Malcolm said in a soft voice as he stared at his hand. “She has the touch. Duncan was so pleased by that.”

  “Aye.” Liam absently kissed the top of Keira’s head. “She doesnae often use it so fully. It costs her dearly to do so, as ye can see.” He looked at Malcolm’s hand. “Ye should be eased of most of your pain for a day or more. ’Tis nay healed, ye understand.”

  “I ken it, but a respite from the pain, nay matter how short-lived it is, is gift enough.”

  “When she wakes, here or later at camp, she will probably tell ye if there is any hope of mending it, e’en if only a wee bit.”

  “She was seeing the damage beneath the skin, wasnae she?”

  “Aye, in a way I doubt I will e’er understand. Just why was Duncan so pleased with her gift?” Liam wondered if this man knew the whole ugly story of Keira’s failed marriage.

  “He hoped she could heal him.”

  “He was ill? She has ne’er said so.”

  Seeing that he and Keira had finished the cider, Malcolm poured Liam and himself some more ale. “Duncan
’s first interest in wedding the lass was to gain a strong alliance with her clan for he kenned she would be able to call them to her side if needed. When she told him of her gifts, he was e’en more eager to make her his wife as he hoped that some day, she could cure him.” Malcolm grimaced and took a deep drink of ale before he said, “He had a weakness in his male parts.”

  Liam stared at the man for a moment. “Ye ken the whole truth, dinnae ye?”

  “That the marriage was ne’er consummated? Aye, but the trouble was ne’er with his body. It was in his mind, I think. Mayhap in his heart.”

  “He wasnae impotent. She told me how he behaved each time he tried to bed her. Was he mad?”

  “Aye and nay. He had desires, felt a deep lusting for the lass, but he couldnae act upon it. I blame his parents. Aye, his mother mostly, but his father was near as bad. I willnae trouble ye with all they did to the lad, the many ways they worked to breed the troubles he suffered from, but they succeeded in making him unable to bed a lass. They and that vile priest they kept at Ardgleann for many years. Lust was sin, filth, a sure road to the flaming pits of hell, and so many other sad things, including beatings and other hard punishments. The poor lad couldnae feel a fine, healthy lusting without being tormented, made nauseous e’en. If the marriage had lasted longer, it may have worked. After all, marriage and the begetting of children is no sin, aye? But the fates decided it wasnae to be.”

  “Yet his father must have felt such urgings and acted upon them, or Duncan wouldnae have been born and ye wouldnae be here.”

  True, but the mon also whipped himself bloody for such sin, and he did so often. His wife often used my presence as proof of the loathsome foulness of men and their bestial urges.”

  “Ye need say no more. I had thought it so. I studied to be a monk for a while and met some men of that ilk.” Liam felt the last of his jealousy of Duncan drown in a torrent of sympathy. “The mon’s childhood must have been a constant torment.”

  “Sadly, aye, it was. I feel certain he ne’er told me e’en half of the things they did to him whene’er they suspected he was e’en thinking a lustful thought.”

  “He ne’er told Keira. She thinks he found her undesirable, that it was her fault he couldnae bed her. I dinnae think I have really succeeded in making her believe otherwise.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “Poor lass. I told Duncan that he should be fully honest with her, but he was slow to work up the courage. And then, his chance was gone.”

  “How many ken this truth?”

  “Only a few, and they will ne’er speak of it. She is a good lass, and those who ken the truth are more than willing to accept her, and thus her clan, as laird. Ye may need to prove yourself. Although if ye can rid us of that foul demon now holding the keep, ’twill undoubtedly win ye everyone’s loyalty.”

  Liam slowly shook his head. “Mayhap, but much more than defeating that swine will be needed to make Ardgleann what it once was. Signs of the mon’s brutality and greed are everywhere. I am a wee bit surprised he left ye with any of your finer pieces.”

  Malcolm glanced toward the room where his work was displayed, then looked at Liam. “He took a few, but what matter that? He robbed me of my greatest treasure, of my heart and soul when he took my bonnie Joan,” he finished softly in a faintly choked voice. “I cannae sleep for thinking of what my wee lass may be suffering, and I feel as if I am damned because I can do naught to help her. I stare at that keep and think of how I ache to kill that bastard. Too many times, I have started toward it, determined to confront Rauf, only to be halted by my own cowardice.”

  “Your own good sense,” said Liam sharply and then softened his tone. “Do ye really think it would aid your wife if she had to watch ye slaughtered before her eyes? How much more would she suffer if her hell included seeing your corpse rotting in chains and hung from the battlements like those other poor souls?”

  Paling slightly, Malcolm shuddered and whispered, “They werenae all dead when he hanged them there.”

  Liam cursed softly and profusely. “He needs to die.” He smiled, and if Malcolm’s slighdy uneasy look was any indication, it held all the fury and loathing he now held for Rauf Moubray. “I shall be sure to tell my cousins and Keira’s brothers about that”

  “That will matter to them, will it?”

  “Oh, aye. It will enrage them. They have all die reason they need to want that bastard out of that keep. He has stolen from one of their own and left her a widow. But this will harden that calm resolve into a cold, intense one. Seeing the bodies hanging from the walls began that. This tale will finish it nicely.”

  Malcolm stared at his hands. “I am no true warrior, but I can wield a sword, m’laird.”

  A sense of pleasure rippled through Liam at Malcolm’s form of addressing him. The battle had not yet been fought, but this man was clearly stating that he had already accepted Liam as laird of Ardgleann. A lot of people would scowl over his sudden rise in power and prestige, but only the opinion of the people of Ardgleann truly mattered. This first step toward their acceptance was a heady one.

  “Then ye are welcome to join us. All we need now is a plan,” he added lightly as he absently kissed the top of Keira’s head.

  “Ye love the lass, dinnae ye?” Malcolm said and briefly grinned when Liam blushed faintly.

  “I believe I might,” Liam replied and grimaced. “She didnae really choose this marriage.” He told Malcolm a very succinct version of all that had happened to bring him and Keira to this point. “’Tis slow work to convince her that I will be a faithful husband and that all these riches I have gained arenae the reason I wanted her.”

  “Aye, ’twill be hard work, I am thinking. Poor old Duncan’s troubles left her wounded in some ways, I suspect, since he ne’er gave her the true reason for them.”

  Liam nodded and then turned the conversation to the battle facing them. It was clear that Malcolm had the sort of knowledge that could prove vital in the days ahead. When the man made it clear that he was more than willing to leave his home and join them, Liam did not waste any more time. Within moments, he was leading the man away from the village, the fact that he had to carry a still sleeping Keira not slowing his pace at all.

  Keira blinked, looked around, and then frowned. When and how did she get back to their camp? She slowly sat up as Liam approached her and held out a tankard she recognized as one of Malcolm’s. Smiling her thanks, she drank down the cool cider as he sat down beside her.

  “Is that Malcolm o’er there talking to Sigimor?” she asked.

  “Aye.” Liam draped his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his side. “He asked to join us, and his knowledge of who is inside the place, and sometimes where, is valuable. Unfortunately, he cannae be sure which bolt-hole might be the one Rauf would choose for his own.”

  “The battle will begin soon?”

  “As soon as the others arrive, or soon thereafter.”

  “There is no turning back now, is there?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Nay, lass. After all ye have seen here, would ye truly want us to walk away?”

  Keira slowly shook her head. “’Tis just that I only want Rauf Moubray and his dogs to be hurt, and such a clean justice isnae really possible in the battle to come.”

  “Probably not. Yet, if a mon must die, ’tis best if he does so in a fight to rid the world of such filth. Aye, and the men from the neighboring lands who are joining with us come because they ken that a mon like this will soon bleed his stolen lands dry and look to theirs for more gain. As Sigimor says, this man is a boil that must be lanced.”

  “I should have heeded those in my family who expressed concern about the marriage,” she muttered.

  Liam took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Ye must shed this guilt that gnaws at ye, lass. None of this is your fault. Duncan was intent upon getting himself a wife. Rauf has wanted Ardgleann for a long time. Those hard truths were there ere ye e’en met Duncan. If nay ye, he would
have wed another lass. At least ye had the wit and strength to survive and return with an army.”

  “Too late. I—”

  He stopped her words with a brief, hard kiss. “By the time ye were healed of your own wounds and certain Rauf wasnae hunting ye down, it was already too late to stop the worst of his cruelty. Give up the guilt, Keira. Ye are the only one who thinks ye have earned it.”

  “Mayhap.” She rested her head against his chest. “Have ye come up with a plan? Something better than a direct assault upon the walls?”

  “Soon. ’Tis brewing. And I promise ye, wife, ’twill be a verra cunning plan indeed.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “That is your brilliant, cunning plan?”

  Keira stared at Liam, Sigimor, Kester, Malcolm, and Sir Archie in utter disbelief. She suspected she looked as appalled and angry as she felt, for all five men looked wary, although Sigimor also looked amused. The plan to send Kester and Sir Archie into the keep to find a way to let the rest of them in was utter madness, yet none of these men seemed to think so. How they could possibly think a clumsy boy and a man who saw the world as if through a thick mist could accomplish anything other than getting themselves killed, she did not know. Unfortunately, she could not say that aloud. Kester and Sir Archie had their pride. Worse, they looked eager to take on such a dangerous task, to be such an important part of this battle.

  “Liam, if I might speak with ye privately?” She was not sure why her cold, angry request should make Sigimor grin so, but she had already decided that he was a bit odd.

  For a moment, Liam hesitated. There was really nothing to discuss. The plan was set, and all had agreed that it was their best chance to avoid a serious bloodletting. Then he saw the fear in her eyes. If nothing else, he needed to soothe her concerns for their two friends, and that would require a little privacy. Things might need to be said that could hurt Kester’s and Sir Archie’s feelings or batter their pride.