Beloved Ruins, Book 1

by Marti Talbott

  It was the first real smile he had gotten from her in days. “With your help, hopefully.”

  Her smile instantly faded and she looked away.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Why do you...”

  JUST THEN, A MACGREAGOR warrior approached and whispered in Michael’s ear. “How many?” he asked.

  “Two.”

  He noticed Laird Ferguson watching him and nodded. “Capture them both and bring them hither.” The guard nodded, and then headed back into the forest, while Michael motioned for both Laird Ferguson and Laird Swinton to come. When they arrived, he said, “Two MacKintosh spies in the woods.”

  “‘Tis true, then, they mean to attack,” said Swinton.

  Elena looked up at the windows of the castle. Seona stood in her bedchamber window, but as soon as she noticed Elena watching her, she moved away.

  Before he left, Michael again asked Elena, “Are you certain you are not hurt?”

  “Quite certain.” She watched the man she loved make his way through the crowd and then put her hand on her painful knee.

  “What is happenin’?” Meghan asked drawing near. When she noticed her friend rubbing her knee, she said, “Better yet, how badly are you hurt?”

  “Meghan, stand in front of me and I shall look.” As soon as her sister-in-law was in position, Elena raised her skirt, quickly examined her knee, and put her skirt back down. It was not skinned, but there would be a bruise. She took Meghan’s hand, slowly stood up, and decided she was not that badly injured.

  In the glen, the three lairds stood in the moonlight and waited while two MacGreagor guards brought the MacKintosh spies and their horses out of the forest.

  Elena pointed. “That is what is happenin’.”

  Meghan turned to look and then caught her breath. “MacKintosh.”

  “Aye,” Elena breathed.

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN TO do with them?” Ferguson asked Michael.

  “Send them home unarmed,” Swinton suggested. “‘Twill be a good lesson for the MacKintosh.”

  “‘Tis better to shame them than holdin’ them captive,” Ferguson agreed.

  “Very well,” said Michael. “I shall have your weapons, lads, and then be off with you.” He waited as the spies reluctantly handed over their daggers and their swords. And then with haste, they ran to their horses, mounted, rode down the glen and disappeared into the darkness.

  “Well, it appears you shall need my help too on the morrow,” said Swinton as he signaled for his men to prepare to go home. “How many lads should I bring?”

  Michael paused before he answered. “How many will it take to give the Kennedys and the MacKintosh pause to reconsider?”

  Swinton chuckled. “None but a handful would frighten the MacKintosh, for they are a small clan. The Kennedys are good fighters and are frightened of very little. I shall send my spies to watch the Kennedys. That will give us some warnin’, at least.”

  “Agreed,” said Michael.

  Behind Michael, the clan had once more quieted, but as he and Laird Ferguson started to walk back toward them, the luscious tenor voice of a Ferguson few had paid much attention to, began to fill the stillness with a beloved Gaelic ballad. Soon, other’s joined until the glen filled with the sounds. Two MacGreagor warriors held two torches and lit the way into the glen so the Fergusons could make their beds in the tall grass. Other MacGreagors held torches to light the way down the various paths to see that all the MacGreagors found their way home, while the inhabitants of the castle wished everyone a good night and went inside.

  The last to go in, Michael knew not why, but before he walked through the outer door, something made him look. At the end of the path where Lindsey’s cottage once was, stood the black stallion watching him. He wrinkled his brow, knew he should see to his guests first, but the horse might be gone when he came back. Cautiously, he walked down the path to the magnificent beast. As it had before, the horse let Michael pat its nose and rub its neck.

  “Have you come to drink from the coolness of the river instead of the loch?” Suddenly troubled, Michael asked, “Are you hurt?” He walked all the way around the animal looking for an injury, but he found nothing. At length, he petted the horse’s long nosed again and then stepped back. “I wonder that no one owns you.” He glanced toward the castle and remembered he was ignoring his guests. Still, there was something about the horse that he found comforting, and rest for his troubled mind was just what he needed. He stayed a moment longer, and then shrugged and walked up the path. Just before he entered the castle, he glanced back.

  The horse was gone.

  KENTIGERN MANOR, 1911

  “At last, a letter from Leesil,” McKenna said when Jessie handed it to her.

  “While in town,” Jessie said taking off her hat. “I went to mail one of mine and discovered the post knows not how to find us. I gave the lad the directions, but ‘twould not hurt to stop by occasionally just to check.”

  “Indeed not,” said Sarah as she curled up next to McKenna on the sofa.

  “‘Tis from Leesil,” McKenna said as she opened the envelope, unfolded it and checked the signature.. It reads:

  June 23, 1911

  My dearest and most beloved family,

  We were relieved to hear Alistair and everyone has arrived safely. The East Coast of America complains of a terrible storm and we feared them caught up in it. All is well in our beautiful Colorado.

  We have good news here all around. Dugan and Beverly have at last settled on a name for their son. Dugan wanted to call him Augustus, for some reason he has yet to explain, and continues to call the laddie Augie above Beverly’s objections. However, she has given in and decided to accept her husband’s “silliness” so long as he agrees that Augustus should be his middle name. Therefore, his full and legal name is now David Augustus MacGreagor. I rather like it, but I say nothing. I tend to think Beverly shall come around to his way of thinking soon and shall like it as well.

  Last week, the governor appointed a judge to take Nicholas’ place until another can be secured. He is an older lad, jolly, friendly and kind, yet stern in his ruling, or so everyone says. We have yet to see him in his courtroom, but he was invited, at Abigail’s insistence, to the picnic at Palmer Lake. A grand time was had by all, save for we missed each of you, my darlings.

  Abigail finds that a child of Millicent’s young age, whom they adopted, a bit more overwhelming than she expected and has hired a new nanny. Her name is Hildred and I have yet to meet her. Nevertheless, Abigail finds her pleasing and now is free to drop by whenever she is of a mind to. The truth be told, we were beginning to miss Abigail’s frequent unannounced visits.

  The children and their parents are all well, as are the servants, although Halen misses Jessie terribly. Blair is all a flutter over being presented to the new king summer next at her coming out. Lady Bayington has agreed to have all her clothing fashioned in Paris and altered when Blair arrives, for Blair’s mother and I have no notion as to what shall be suitable.

  My dears, we hear nothing from or about the duchess, therefore I begin to believe Cameron is right – she is dead.

  Butler Prescot gains more strength daily from his gunshot wound and is back to his old self. As for me, I have not had a nightmare in weeks, I am happy to report. Of those who kidnapped me, Willis has not yet been found, and of course you know what became of the other two – Earl died and Pete shall not again be a bother to society for a very long time.

  Well, the latest addition to our household is awake and wanting fed, so I shall write more another time. Do write when you can, or simply call. We miss the sound of your voices.

  All my love,

  Leesil

  Shall we not read more of the book?” McKenna asked.

  “Can we, I mean should we?” Sarah asked.

  “Why not? Nicholas and Alistair are way ahead of us in their copyin’.”

  “Excellent idea,” said Sarah. She reached up, got the book, opened it at the marker, and
began to read.

  CHAPTER 18

  MacGreagor Glen, 1371

  A coveted position perhaps, for the clan’s second in command held great power and responsibility. However, he was normally left behind when the laird was gone, and often deprived of his share in the excitement. Then again, he had to be at home when the clan’s spies reported in.

  It had been years since the clans had good cause to spy on each other. Yet on this occasion, the Swinton and MacKintosh were already caught spying on the MacGreagors. Laird Kennedy’s men were still watching the MacKintosh, Michael sent men to watch both the Kennedys and the MacKintosh, and Swinton’s men went off to keep an eye on Laird Dalldon.

  No one, apparently, was watching Osgar.

  WITH A SMILE ON HIS face, Master Balric Verrall mounted his horse just as the sun was about to rise, and leisurely walked it down the road in the middle of the glen. Halfway, he looked back to see if Michael was watching him from the north tower, and was relieved to find no one there. Like any other morning, the birds chirped their greeting to the dawn, the roosters crowed, cows mooed to be milked, and Elder Diarmad was awake and getting ready to begin his morning walk. While others still slept, six Ferguson and oddly six Swinton guards stood watch, and as Balric reached the lower part of the glen, a MacGreagor stepped out of the forest and waved. The teacher smiled and waved back.

  A picture of calm and serenity on the outside, inside Balric had never been in such a panic. Even so, he made certain he was well out of sight before he kicked the side of his horse and galloped down the main road. Never had he felt so far away, and it seemed an eternity before he reached his destination, swung down and ran the rest of the way.

  NOT BUT A FEW MINUTES after Balric left the glen, Michael went to the window in the top of the north tower, and surveyed his surroundings. His first thought was to see if the black stallion was still in sight. It was not. To his amazement, someone had erected a tall wooden cross on the very spot where the stallion stood the night before – Lindsey’s spot. Furthermore, it was positioned so that it fully faced Seona’s bedchamber window.

  Michael decided to worry about that later.

  The clan was beginning to stir, the dairymaids were right on time, carrying their milk buckets down the path as the unmarried men came up, and Diarmad had begun to take his morning walk as usual. Even so, the glen had changed. Not only were Fergusons encamped there, so also were several Swintons that arrived in the night. Two of the Swintons were passing out fresh loaves of bread, no doubt brought from home, while others checked their weapons or stood guard. It reminded Michael of a battlefield and he dreaded the blood that might soon be spilled there.

  His decision was made – he would command his men to fight to save Seona, no matter the cost. Even so, he dreaded letting that happen and had yet to come up with a way out of his quandary.

  At length, he went back down the stairs. Laird Ferguson and his wife would be awake soon, Elena and the children were likely already awake, as were Kester and Birdie. Seona, he hoped, would stay in bed the whole day through. The less he saw of her the better.

  Trying to understand what the matter was between him and Elena made him tired, which he could not afford to be just now, so he vowed not to think about it. If she came to him, fine. If she did not, he would not seek her out no matter the temptation to do so. His was simply to be pleasant for the sake of his guests and to prepare his mind for what might possibly lay ahead.

  LAIRD MACKINTOSH WAS not pleased. In the early morning, his unarmed spies stood before him with heads hung in shame. “Well? What have you to say for yourselves?”

  “We did...as best we could,” the oldest stammered.

  “‘Twas not good enough!” MacKintosh shouted. His graying hair was uncombed, his clothing quickly put on, and his feet were bare as he stood opposite his warriors with fists clenched. “Have you nothin’ to report?”

  “Laird Ferguson and his wife are there,” the second one said just above a whisper, “and he brings twenty-six warriors.”

  At that, MacKintosh wrinkled his brow. “He brought his wife, did he?”

  “Aye,” the first answered. When the second guard elbowed him, the first was forced to continue. “Laird Swinton came...”

  “Swinton?” MacKintosh’s voice was beginning to rise. “Are there any other lairds in the MacGreagor glen? Laird Kennedy, perhaps?”

  “Nay, just Laird Swinton and Laird Ferguson,” the second swore.

  “How many lads did Swinton bring?”

  “But his usual ten,” the second answered.

  “I see.” For a time, MacKintosh thoughtfully rocked heal-to-toe on his feet until he realized he wore no shoes. He found his shoes beside a chair, just where he left them, and sat down to put them on. “Fully armed?”

  “Aye,” the first answered.

  “Which, you are not,” he scolded. Again his warriors bowed their heads in shame.

  “After Laird MacGreagor discovered you, were you given a word to tell me?”

  “Nay,” said the first. “Laird MacGreagor simply took our weapons and sent us home.”

  “He dinna question why you were spyin’ on him?”

  “He said not a word.”

  His left shoe halfway on, MacKintosh stopped to consider what it might mean. At length, he whispered, “Ferguson was there when last we saw the king.” He took in a deep breath and raised his voice, “Ferguson has convinced Laird MacGreagor to give Dalldon’s daughter to him!” He hastened to put on his shoes and then stood up. “At first light, make ready the lads, for we leave at noon.”

  Glad to be released, the two warriors scrambled out the door.

  “Swinton has figured out where she is too,” MacKintosh continued to say even though there was no one there to hear him. “Michael might give her to Swinton for safe keepin’ and Swinton would do it too. Everyone knows Dalldon and Swinton hate the very sight of each other.” Laird MacKintosh shifted his eyes from side to side and then narrowed them. “Never have I known a time when Kennedy dinna know what was goin’ on. Twould not surprise me if Kennedys were already in the glen as well.”

  OSGAR SUSPECTED THE lazy and out of shape Dalldon would tire easily and stop for the night long before sundown. He was right.

  He heard them, rather than saw the hundred man guard bedding down just beyond the bushes along the side of the road. Osgar kept going anyway, held his breath, and prayed not to be discovered. He was tired and would have to stop soon too, but he was an early riser and had no doubt he could stay ahead of them. Furthermore, he knew right where there was a small village, a comfortable bed, and a pretty and willing maiden at the village inn.

  The next morning, Dalldon surprised Osgar by getting an early start. In fact, once Osgar got back on the main road, he nearly ran into the back of Dalldon’s guards. With haste, he turned his horse into the woods, found an animal path, and followed it until he came to a little known shortcut to the MacGreagor glen.

  ONE OF THE KENNEDY spies sent to watch the MacKintosh rode his horse hard into his village, hopped off and raced into the Kennedy Great Hall. “The MacKintosh prepare to ride. They are fully armed and assembled,” he blurted out

  Laird Kennedy leapt to his feet, “Already? He goes a day early?” Kennedy spun around, ran his fingers through his hair, and blankly stared at nothing at all. “I am betrayed,” he muttered. “He thinks to keep the reward for himself.” With the fire of rage in his eyes, he turned back to face his warrior. “Sound the gong, lad. We fight the MacKintosh and the MacGreagors, if we must.”

  The warrior swallowed hard. “Fight the MacGreagors? Surely...”

  “Do as I say and do it now!” Kennedy bellowed.

  THE NIGHT BEFORE, WHILE Laird Swinton ordered a new mattress brought for his bed, he explained the situation in detail to his second in command. The next morning, and for the first time in months, he awoke without a headache and he was elated. As he dressed, he reminded himself to thank Mistress Ferguson again the moment he saw
her. In celebration, he opened both of his front double doors to allow the light of the brightening sky in, and ordered the lighting of four lanterns in his Great Hall.

  When he arrived, no one was more surprised to see the light let in than Swinton’s second in command. “You are well?” he asked.

  “Very well. Sit down. I am in need of your help.” Swinton took his second’s arm, pulled him to the table, and took a seat next to him.

  “What?”

  “The lads report that Dalldon is on the move.”

  “He has been persuaded to leave his castle? I am surprised.”

  “He is but half a day away. As you know, I am promised to go to the MacGreagor village this mornin’, and I shall take several lads with me. Yet, with Dalldon...” Swinton paused to consider his next words.

  “You wish to be here when he arrives?”

  “I have waited years for the opportunity to kill him, but nay, I shall not be here when he arrives. Instead, you shall give him a message for me.”

  “Which is?”

  “‘Tis the sort of message he shall not be expectin’.” Swinton explained what he had in mind, and then said, “But not until after you tell him I have taken his daughter to the MacGreagor glen.”

  His second thoughtfully strummed his fingers on the table. “Where he shall find himself faced with Swintons, Fergusons and the MacGreagors, all of them protectin’ his daughter. ‘Tis right dead brilliant.”

  “Nay, not that brilliant. I am still denied the pleasure of killin’ him, and to please the king I hoped it to be a fair fight.” Swinton sighed. “It cannae be helped, I suppose.”

  “Precisely how am I to arrange your revenge?”

  Swinton got up, went to a small table, came back with a bottle of ink, a clean piece of parchment and a quill pen. He dipped the quill in ink and began to draw a map of the Swinton village.