Beloved Ruins, Book 1

by Marti Talbott

  The Kennedy village had changed over the years. No longer was the keep a sprawling one-story structure situated in the middle of the village, with added rooms and an ordinary thatched roof. Now, it was an impressive two-story stone structure with the lookout towers necessary to watch for an English attack. Although he was less than fond of his wife, they had an understanding which made their marriage tolerable for them both. She was to remain faithful, thereby securing the purity of his bloodline, and he was to keep his liaisons a secret, especially from her. So far, both had remained true to the bargain.

  Seated in his Great Hall, instead of wondering how to get Dalldon’s daughter away from Michael, Kennedy found himself obsessing over what he had learned about Osgar Allardice. Not once had he imagined Osgar to be Dalldon’s nephew, and therefore Tam and Seona’s cousin as well. That he did not know confounded him, for many were the days Osgar sat at his table drinking ale and telling of his adventures.

  Kennedy took an apple out of a bowl on the table, decided he didn’t want it, and put it back. He was expecting a visit from Osgar and it was long overdue. In the past, he had no reason to doubt the authenticity of Osgar’s stories, but just now he could not be certain any of it was true. Furthermore, if Osgar killed a man at Dalldon’s request and then was not paid, more than likely it was Osgar who helped Seona escape. If Kennedy could figure that out, then so could Dalldon. Perhaps Osgar was already dead. That would explain why he did not return as he had planned. The apple looked good after all, so he picked it up, cut a slice out of the side, and put the slice in his mouth.

  Everyone agreed Dalldon needed to die, and Kennedy couldn’t help but wonder why Osgar had not killed him by now. Just then, he thought of something. Kennedy abruptly stopped chewing and quickly swallowed. “If both Dalldon and his son die, Osgar might well be in line to inherit.” Just as abruptly, he dismissed that possibility. “Tam shall not die, surely.”

  CHAPTER 15

  TIRED OF RIDING HIS horse for days on end without the time to socialize with the wrong kind of women, Osgar Allardice dismounted and tied the horse’s reins to a nearby bush. The ride between the Swintons and the Dalldon’s castle took two days. Of course he could make it in a day and a half, if he did not rest his horse quite so often, but then, he saw no reason just now to rush. Dalldon was a bear to deal with until after his noon meal, and the sun was not yet high in the sky. Osgar found a spot atop one of Scotland’s rolling hills that overlooked the Dalldon loch and castle, and lay down to enjoy the full comfort of the warm sunshine.

  Originally, his plan to draw Dalldon out of his castle was much different, but soon he realized Tam’s idea was a much better one. Convincing Laird Swinton to take part in his nefarious plot had gone well. The thought of killing his most prominent and hated opponent seemed to appeal to Swinton. Of course, it did not appeal to Swinton nearly as much as it appealed to Osgar. Dalldon’s time to die had finally come, and nary a lad nor lass would mourn the loss of him, particularly the daughter he tried to marry off, and the son he condemned to die in his dungeon.

  Still, there was much that could go wrong.

  What puzzled Osgar most was seeing Swinton ride to the MacGreagor glen shortly after they struck their bargain. He thought about it for hours and still had not guessed what Swinton was up to. If Swinton told Michael the truth, all would be lost.

  He considered the promise he made to Tam. He liked the boy – as well as he could like anyone connected to Laird Dalldon, but for reasons of his own, Osgar had no intention of pleading Tam’s case to the king. The poor boy would probably die in the dungeon, if he had not already, but Osgar could not help that. It was far too late to change his plans now anyway.

  If Swinton somehow managed to kill Dalldon, and Tam was not alive to inherit, then – Seona’s husband would. That was something he had not yet considered and the thought made Osgar sit up straight.

  No one found the idea of marriage more ill-favored than Osgar, but the more he thought about it, the more he should be the man Seona married. After all, cousins married cousins all the time, especially when it came to those who considered themselves in the upper class, which Osgar always had. It was not as though he would have to give up anything, he would simply have more money to spend doing it. Of one thing he was certain – if he asked, the trivial and often contemptable Seona would jump at the chance to marry him.

  “Best get on with it, then,” he muttered.

  Dressed in his finest, which included a tightfitting green jacket, Osgar checked the position of the sun, and then got to his feet. He mounted his horse, rode down the hill and then around the loch to the front of Dalldon’s castle. He was immediately let into the inner courtyard, where grass and an abundance of multicolored flowers in full bloom bordered cobblestone pathways leading to four different doors. The sight of its beauty always confounded Osgar, and once more he marveled at the cold and heartless laird inside capable of enjoying such pleasant surroundings.

  He had little time with his thoughts before Barra came to take him to Laird Dalldon’s withdrawing room. This room matched Dalldon’s personality far better, for it was as dark and brooding as its inhabitant, even with all six deerhounds in attendance. Beaten into submission, Osgar felt sorry for dogs that clearly had no easy avenue of escaping their harsh master. Each lay near Dalldon looking bored and despondent.

  Instead of acknowledging Osgar’s attendance, Dalldon flipped his coin back and forth between the tips of his fingers and sat aimlessly watching the dying embers in the hearth. The castle seemed even colder and darker than usual, but then, all the draperies were closed letting in scant light from outside.

  “Good news, I have found Seona.”

  At that, Dalldon dropped the coin on the table and immediately stood up. “Where?” Stingy with the use of oil except when he had guests, only one lantern sat on a table situated between the two men and it cast enormous shadows of the two men on opposite walls.

  “Laird Swinton has her,” said Osgar.

  “Of course he does. Save for accusin’ you, I have suspected it since the day she was taken from me.”

  “Accusin’ me?” Osgar breathed.

  “Do you swear you dinna have a part in it?”

  Osgar mockingly rolled his eyes. “Have you lost your wits? How shall I ever collect the debt you owe me if I dare betray you?”

  Dalldon was not easily convinced, but at length he nodded. “You have proof Swinton has her, do you not?”

  “I have seen her with my own eyes. Is my word not proof enough?”

  Dalldon grunted, sat back down, and thoughtfully touched the fingers of one hand with the matching fingers of the other. He repeatedly tapped them together and stared into the embers, but no words came from his lips.

  It seemed offering to let Osgar sit down was becoming an unpleasant trend among lairds lately. “Where is Tam?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. “I long to tell him...”

  “Dead,” Laird Dalldon said matter-of-factly.

  Osgar hid his delight and instead looked pained. “How...”

  “He was pushed, fell, or perhaps jumped out of his bedchamber window. I have yet to discover which.”

  “I am heartbroken.” He watched the expression on Dalldon’s face, but never had he seen a hint of his uncle’s remorse for anything he did, and now was no exception. It was then Osgar noticed Barra had not left the room, so he looked to the guard for confirmation. Terrified of actually nodding, Barra simply turned his gaze downward.

  “Therefore,” Dalldon said as if he simply continued a previous sentence, “I must quickly marry and produce an heir. You are well aware of the eligible lasses in Scotland. Tell me, have you a recommendation? She must be easy on the eyes, know how to hold her tongue, and she must not laugh too loudly. If there is one thing I canna abide in a lass, ‘tis loud laughter.”

  Osgar’s moment of sorrow over Tam’s death passed quickly enough. “I...see. Several lairds have daughters old enough to marry, and a few are mos
t handsome. How soon are you thinkin’ of...”

  “As soon as possible, of course. I care not whose daughter she is, but if you can arrange a speedy marriage, I shall pay you handsomely.”

  Enraged, Osgar failed to hide his revulsion. “You have yet to pay me for the last arrangement I made on your behalf.”

  “Hold your tongue, Osgar,” Dalldon shouted as he tightly gripped the arms of his chair. “Can you find a wife for me or not?”

  Fearful his uncle might suddenly strike him, Osgar took a full step back. “I can, and I shall. But first, we must settle the matter of Seona.”

  Dalldon calmed and once more relaxed in his chair. “Will Swinton bring her back to me?” Before Osgar could answer, he went on, “He would keep her just to irk me. Does he know the king wishes her to marry a Frenchman?”

  “I know not what he knows. He threatened to cut my throat and would hardly let me speak – although he has named his price.”

  “I am not surprised. A more ruthless lad I have yet to meet. Yet, to stay in the king’s high regard I must have Seona back. Have you a suggestion other than to meet his price?”

  “You could send men to fetch her. I doubt Swinton thinks her worthy of a fight.”

  “What lass ever is?”

  Osgar nodded, took a chance, and slipped into a nearby chair. “I quite agree. What shall your answer be?”

  “How much does he require?”

  “Ten thousand pounds.”

  Dalldon did not even bat an eye. “Greedy is he? Well, if I must, I must. Tell Swinton I agree to his terms.”

  “Swinton demands he first have the ransom before he gives her to me.”

  “She shall fight you, you know,” Dalldon muttered. “She is much like her mother in that regard. Can you manage her?”

  “Have I not always?”

  Dalldon considered the situation for a moment more before he said, “Come back tomorrow mornin’ and I shall give you the ransom.”

  “Excellent. Stay within and leave the rest to me. Soon, very soon, you shall have your daughter and all shall be well.” Osgar stood up, bowed to his uncle, and hastily left the room before Dalldon had a chance to question him further – or worse, change his mind.

  “Tam is truly dead?” Osgar whispered as soon as Barra caught up with him outside in the courtyard.

  “Aye and not a pleasant death by any measure.”

  Osgar said nothing more until he and Barra were to his horse and away from the castle. Just before he mounted, Osgar looked up at Tam’s bedchamber. “Did he fall?”

  “Nay,” Barra answered. Next after Laird Dalldon, Barra feared Osgar the most and with good reason. He had seen for himself what Osgar was capable of. In charge of Tam’s welfare, Barra feared Osgar might guess he had not spent the money given him, on food for the prisoner. Yet, Osgar seemed content with his answer and instead turned his horse, and rode off down the road toward the village.

  Barra breathed a sigh of relief, knowing full well Osgar would be back in the morning. By then, he might remember to ask about the money to feed Tam, and Barra was not at all sure he knew what lie to tell him.

  DALLDON WAS NOT EXPECTING him when the King’s messenger arrived. The man stood in the middle of Laird Dalldon’s courtyard, and looked the calm and collected Laird straight in the eye. “His Majesty, the King of Scotland, says to say the following. ‘Find your daughter in three days’ time or forfeit half your land.”

  “Half my...” Dalldon gasped. “‘Tis not enough time.”

  The messenger simply shrugged. “Have you a return message for the king?”

  “I...tell him I shall do as best I can, naturally.” Dalldon watched as the man nodded, turned around, and walked out the gate. With all six dogs following right behind him, Dalldon turned on his heel, went back inside and up the stairs to his bedchamber. For over an hour, he paced back and forth until he made his decision, opened his door and roared, “Barra!”

  Barra’s name echoed throughout the castle, and as quickly as he could, the trusted guard tore up the stairs and yanked open Laird Dalldon’s bedchamber door. “Aye?”

  “Alert the lads. We ride at dawn.”

  “Aye.” He softly closed the door and started back down the stairs. Soon a wide grin appeared on Barra’s face. Osgar never arrived until after noon, and as fortune would have it, by then they would be long gone.

  AT LAST, OSGAR HAD a full night to enjoy the company of a fetching woman and enough strong drink to insure a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. Tam was dead and that called for a celebration. All he had to do now was collect the ransom and be gone. When Osgar did not return with Seona, Dalldon would be enraged enough to go get her from Swinton himself. They would fight and the stout Swinton would kill the weak and unworthy Dalldon. Meanwhile, hidden among the MacGreagors, Osgar would hear of Dalldon’s death firsthand and marry Seona.

  He had it figured to perfection.

  To celebrate, he drank another and another chalice of imported French wine fresh off a French ship, and celebrated until the crack of dawn, at which time he fell into a bed not of his choosing and passed out.

  It was nearly noon when Osgar woke up and by then, the whole village was talking about the suddenness of it – Dalldon, and a hundred men rode south that very morning. About this, Osgar was perplexed. Did he not tell his uncle to stay put? It could only mean one thing. Dalldon meant to keep the ransom, and take his daughter from Swinton by force.

  Enraged, he picked up his wine goblet and threw it hard against the wall. It then occurred to him that if he rode hard and fast, and took a shortcut he was familiar with, he could make it to the Swinton village ahead of Dalldon. With haste, Osgar filled his water flask, grabbed a loaf of bread, and went to find his horse.

  BY EVENING, SEONA WAS bored. Save for meals, she kept to her bedchamber, sat in the only chair in her room, and watched what was happening in the village below. Finding the view lacking of any sort of entertainment, she lay down and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. What she coveted most was fresh air and a long walk. First, however she decided to do a little more snooping.

  Carefully, she peeked out her door, found the hallway empty, and went back for the lit candle on her table. She had not noticed before, but the candleholder looked just like the one she saw Lindsey making.

  “How brazen of them to put this here. I am to be forever reminded, I suppose.”

  She picked it up anyway, curved her hand protectively around the flame, and slipped out the door. Instead of going down the stairs, she went up to have another look at the treasures Michael kept in the small room on the third floor.

  Beitris took up residence in the room next to it, she knew, but she had no idea where Beitris was just now. As quietly as she could, Seona walked down the hallway, stopped, glanced both ways, and turned the knob on the door. When she pushed it open, the bottom of the door loudly scraped against the floor. She had not noticed that before, and sharply turned to see if Beitris had heard her. She waited, watched, and listened, until she was certain she would not be discovered and boldly went in.

  Either there were new items or someone had rearranged things. Several items of gold and silver remained, but now there was a small silver box right in front. Her curiosity piqued, she set the candle on the table, picked up the box, and opened it. The box held but one object – but oh what a tempting object it was. She picked up the man’s ring and studied the large, flawless emerald in the setting. Even though she knew it would not fit, she put it on her finger.

  “A thief as well?” a man said behind her.

  Terrified, Seona dropped the ring back in the box and spun around. “Michael?”

  “‘Twas my father’s ring.”

  She dismissed her shock and sighed. “You frightened me.” Unremorseful, she picked the ring back up and reached for his hand, which he quickly pulled out of her grasp.

  He should not have been, but he was surprised by her audacity. “Put it back.”

  “Bu
t how glorious it shall look on you. Why do you not wear it?”

  “‘Tis not your affair.”

  There was a twinkle in her eye when she said, “Perhaps someday it shall be.”

  “I assure you, it shall never be any of your affair.”

  “You are being too harsh, Michael. My heart...”

  He took the ring out of her hand, put it back in the box, and closed the lid. “You have no heart.” He picked up the candle, took hold of her wrist, and pulled her from the room. Abruptly, he shoved the candle at her, forced her to take hold of it, and closed the door. “If you dare come here again, I shall have you locked in your bedchamber.” With that, he walked away.

  Indignant, she waited until she could hear his footsteps no more, went down the first flight of stairs and then back to her bedchamber. She considered smashing Lindsey’s candle holder against the hearth, but it was the only one in the room, so she blew the candle out and set it on the table.

  Not caring if Michael saw her or not, she left her room and went downstairs. Seona marched into the empty foyer, opened the door, and hurried across the equally empty inner courtyard. When she burst through the door, Michael was waiting for her. His tightly folded arms, and his unmistakable scowl deterred her not, for she rolled her eyes, skirted past him, descended the steps, and then scurried across the outer courtyard.

  Behind her, Michael nodded to the flute player, who began to play a jig as he fell in behind her. Owen was the next to follow, and soon one of the women fell in behind him, then a man, three children and another woman.

  It took a few moments before she thought to look back and when she did, Seona was appalled by the number of people following her. Further enraged, she marched down the road in the middle of the glen, crossed the grass to the edge of the trees, and was about to enter the forest when Murran stepped out and blocked her way. The flute player stopped and so did all the people following him.