Her Broken Highlander (Highlanders 0f Cadney Book 3)

by Fiona Faris

  “Oh Gavin, I’m not angry at all,” she said, looking up. He saw something new in her eyes. She looked at him with hope. “Do you think William will be able to sway the Laird.”

  He held her tight, and she rested her head against the bars. He longed to kiss her, but the space between them made any contact more than the simple touch they shared now, impossible.

  “I do, lass. There is something about the man, something that men will listen to.”

  “Will you stay with me?” she asked.

  “Until they drag me away lass. Until they drag me away.”

  * * *

  Heavy footsteps on the stairs leading into the dungeon broke Gavin from his thoughts. There was no telling how long they had been sitting on the ground, hands entwined between the bars. They didn’t speak. They just sat together. Based on the evenness of her breath, Gavin was sure Amelia had fallen asleep.

  He looked up to see Laird MacLeod standing above him.

  “Well, lad, this is an interesting sight tae take in,” the overbearing Laird said. Gavin jumped to his feet. Amelia yawned and settled down into a restless sleep. “Walk with me, MacGille,” he said. “It seems ye have quite a tale tae tell. We have much tae discuss. Let’s let th’ lass sleep.”

  “Aye,” Gavin replied and followed the Laird out of the dungeon. Before taking the last step, he looked back, a single plait of blond rested against the bars of her cell. She would have the devil of a neck pain when she woke, but Gavin needed to leave her to discuss their future. He prayed William had been successful. If not, he wasn’t sure how he would get them out of this mess.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Amelia woke with a deep pain in the center of her back that shot straight up to her neck. Moaning, she looked around to figure out where she was. The dust beneath her and the candle burned down to past the wick on the ground next to her were fresh reminders that she was, in fact, on the floor of her cell, and Gavin was gone.

  “Gavin?” she asked quietly. Maybe he had gotten up to take care of his needs. He said he would stay with her, and Gavin always kept his word. When no answer came, the muscles in her stomach tightened. Could they have come for him in the night? Maybe some of the MacLeod men wanted to finish the fight they had started in the main hall.

  “Gavin!” she said louder to no answer. “GAVIN!” She was frantic now. William must have spoken to Laird MacLeod by now, and Gavin’s disappearance only solidified for Amelia that the man must not have seen reason. He came in the night and took Gavin, and now Amelia was truly alone, and it was all her fault. Her breathing grew rapid. Think, Amelia, think.

  She had resisted tears for so long that now they were coming with ease. She didn’t want to be weak, but all the events of the last few weeks were collapsing around her, and now Gavin was gone again. He wouldn’t have been in this godforsaken place was it not for her. Why couldn’t she have listened to him, Lucas, Tristan, or even herself to see that they were on a fool’s errand? There was no telling what Gavin’s fate would be now because of her obsession.

  “Why did I force us to come here?” she asked desperately into the cell. “I ruined everything, and for what? For nothing!”

  “Lass, all the trouble me uncle and yer Gavin MacGille have gone tae convincing me ye aren’t a witch will be for naught if ye keep on talkin’ tae yerself down here.” Amelia looked up startled. Laird MacLeod stood before her. He wore the same kilt, shirt, and fur that he wore the day before, but he looked fresh from what Amelia had to assume was a bath. Oh, how she longed for a bath.

  “My Laird,” she said meekly, there was no use fighting him. Her fate was no longer her own.

  “Lady Amelia, it seems we have much tae discuss.”

  * * *

  Laird MacLeod was alone with Amelia. She was surprised to see he opened the cell himself. No men surrounded him, and Amelia didn’t know if that should be taken as a good omen or not.

  “Let us walk in the garden, lass,” he said, leading her out of the dungeon. “I apologize for keeping ye all night in the dungeon, but I was nay given a choice. It is important that I remain neutral in matters concerning other clans. It is how our clan has survived for hundreds of years.”

  “Where is Gavin, my laird?” she asked.

  “Do ye love him? Th’ MacGille lad?” What a strange question to ask. Amelia wasn’t sure what an appropriate response should be. Not yet understanding what was happening around her, Amelia decided on the truth. There was no need to lie any longer.

  “I do my laird. I love him very much.” The Laird simply nodded.

  “He is in the bedchamber we assigned to him. I bade him rest while you and I spoke. It was a long night for all.” He looked down at her and Amelia saw remorse in his gaze, and a softness. “He didnae want tae leave ye, lass, but I’m afraid I didnae give him a choice. Ye’ll need him tae be fully rested, as we doona ken what the day will bring.”

  She was grateful that Gavin was unharmed. What did the Laird mean by not knowing what the day will bring? She was angry at being torn from Gavin and placed in a cage, yet she understood the Laird’s explanation. She couldn’t fathom the responsibility involved in taking care of an entire clan, and the highlands were often the scene of betrayal and battle. Perhaps she shouldn’t judge him too harshly.

  They walked the gardens of MacLeod Castle, and Amelia was impressed by the size and variety of herbs and flowers available so far north. She stopped to smell a particularly pretty bloom of comfrey. The almost bread-like smell of the reddish-purple bloom reminding her of Ella. Ella, who was forever making compresses and poultices from the crushed stalk of the plant. Ella, who taught her everything she knew, not only about plants and healing herbs, but about life, and standing up for oneself.

  “Do ye like th’ flowers, lass?” Laird MacLeod asked.

  “Yes, they remind me of my sister and mother,” Amelia responded.

  “Ye ken, lass, in the mid-mornin’ light, I doona ken how I could have missed it,” Laird MacLeod said. Amelia detected a note of sadness in his voice.

  “Beg your pardon, my Laird, but missed what?”

  “I missed who ye truly were. I can see it now in how much ye favor yer mother.” That was it. The sentence Amelia had been waiting four years to hear. She held her breath to try and calm her racing heart. The Laird knew her mother. He was the one she had been searching for. Lady Cabduh had been right. It wasn’t simply the rambling of a woman on her death bed. “I didn’t notice it when ye arrived last night. I should have, but it’s been years since…” he trailed off. That must mean…she stood and turned slowly to face him.

  “You knew her?” Amelia asked, trying hard not to betray her emotions and remain calm. She wanted the whole story. She needed to know everything Laird MacLeod knew, about her mother, the baby, everything.

  “Aye, I kent her well.”

  “Tell me about her?” Amelia wanted to keep the Laird talking so she would know more about what would happen to her and Gavin, but also selfishly she wanted to hear someone talk about her mother.

  “Ahh, lass, there are some things best left in the past. But I will tell ye when I first laid eyes on yer mum it was as if I’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. I was tasked with representing our clan at th’ wedding of Laird and Lady Cabduh. This was, of course, many years before ye or yer sister was born.” Amelia did a quick calculation in her head. But how could that be? The baby she was looking for was born well after Ella and herself.

  “I see the wheels in yer head spinnin’, lass. ’Tis true, I loved yer mother from the first. I followed her back tae England, but by th’ time I had reached her, it was too late. She had already been married off tae yer father. I was angry with her. I didn’t understand th’ ways of English marriage. I felt betrayed. Stubborn young beastie I was then.” The Laird laughed gently, thinking on memories long dead.

  “So how did you eventually come to have an affair with my mother?” Amelia asked.

  “Affair ye say? Nay, it wasn’t an a
ffair. Yer mother loved me, and I her. Yer Da was a foolish man. He spent months and months away from her. Cast her off as a used pelt of fur. When he was around, he was cruel. I begged yer Ma to bring you girls and run away with me. She refused. I’ll never understand why, but I couldn’t be apart from her, so I stayed in England, as long as I could. Took a position in yer father’s household as a stablemaster. Watched over yer mother, and ye two lasses as well. Do ye nay remember learnin’ how tae ride?”

  Realization dawned over Amelia. She was young, but there had been a kind, stable hand. A tall man, more a boy in her memory, who had always been around with sweetmeats in his pockets and a funny way of speaking. She looked at the Laird, and a smile crept over his face. “Liam,” she whispered. “Wait does that mean that you are…”

  “Nay, lass. Yer father is yer true Da, though I loved ye as if ye were my own. Both ye and yer sister. Treated ye as I would treat any daughters of mine.” Amelia nodded, not sure how she felt about the revelation. A small part of her wishing he had given a different answer, even though she knew better.

  Liam MacLeod put both of his hands on Amelia’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Ye’ve grown into a forceful young lass. Ye have yer mother in ye tae be sure, and tell me, Amelia, what became of yer sister?”

  Amelia had to choke back the emotion crowding her. “Ella is wonderful. She is Lady MacGille now, married to Gavin’s brother, Lucas, who is the Laird of Cadney.”

  “Ahh yes, I had heard Lucas MacGille took an English bride. The tale is she nursed him back to health in hiding after th’ battle o’ Dunkeld.”

  “She did. They have two children and,” Amelia thought for a moment about how much time had passed that she had been away from Cadney. “Well, most likely now she has three.”

  “Three wee highland bairns, and from a good clan. Yer mother would have been pleased.”

  “Liam?” Amelia had to know the answer to the questions that brought her here. “Why did you leave England? Why did you leave us? One day you were there and the next you were gone. Now thinking back on it, I remember how sad my mother was toward the end, was it because you left?”

  Liam took a deep breath and looked out onto the bailey and castle grounds. “This…” he said. “My uncle William, who ye’ve met, an’ for who I’m named, was th’ only one who knew th’ true reason I fled tae England. He sent word that my father was gravely ill, and it was time for me tae return. Time to take my place as the Laird of the MacLeod clan. I couldnae refuse. I begged yer mother to join me. To run away. I would’ve claimed her and ye girls. But she was scared, she was heavy with child, and didnae think she could make such a journey. She was afraid of what yer Da would’ve done when he found out. I swore to protect her, but in th’ end she refused, and I returned tae th’ Highlands.”

  “And the baby?”

  “My plan was tae return once I had th’ clan settled. I would’ve returned to her, but then yer aunt, Lady Cabduh, sent word that yer sweet, bonny mother had…” his face contorted with emotion, and Amelia reached out to take his hand.

  “It was the worst day of my life,” she said. “Ella tried to protect me from it, but there was no way. I was young, but not simple. I knew something was wrong. I heard mother’s screams.”

  “I cannae imagine, lass. Nor do I want tae. I never remarried. Yer mother was the only love for me.”

  They sat on a stone bench in silence for a few moments. Each reflecting on Amelia’s mother and what her death meant for the paths their lives took before Amelia found the courage to speak.

  “What happened to the babe?”

  “Ah yes, yer brother. My uncle William told me that was why ye had come. Ye’ve made quite an ally in my uncle in a short time. He always was a wise man, much wiser than I. He told me about yer aunt, Lady Cabduh, as well, I’m sorry for yer loss of her. I ken ye must have tried yer best tae save her.”

  “I truly did, even before I figured out our relation. I’m no witch, my laird.”

  “Nay, I doona suppose ye are. I doona ken all there is tae ken in this world, but I ken ye are not a witch.”

  “Did my brother live? Lady Cabduh, my aunt,” the words still felt foreign on her tongue, and Amelia wondered if she would ever get used to the fact that there was so much about her relations and family she never knew. “She mentioned in the heat of fever, that she sent the babe to you.”

  “Aye that she did. The lad, Iain, he is well, has grown intae a curious and fine lad.”

  “Iain,” Amelia said. “My mother called him David in her last breath. Ella and I always called him such, but Iain sounds like a strong name; the name of a survivor.” Amelia brushed a tear from her eyes. Her brother lived.

  A man that Amelia hadn’t seen before came rushing through the garden toward where she and Liam were standing. Instinctively she moved behind the Laird and readied herself for a fight.

  “Nay, lass- doona fash,” Liam said calmly. “He’ll nay cause ye harm. ’Tis one of my men, but he does look grave. Let me speak to him.”

  Amelia nodded. She knew from experience that no good would come of their conversation, whether it related to her and Gavin or not. She felt the all too familiar stirring in her stomach, a warning that clouded the happiness she should have felt from discovering she had finally come to her journey’s end. Her brother was alive and thriving, here somewhere in the castle.

  The Laird looked up at her and frowned before patting the clansman on the back and sending him away.

  “Lass,” he said as he approached her. “I thought we would have more time.” Amelia instantly knew Cabduh’s men were here to retrieve her. Her head began to spin. “Ye are under my protection, so doona fash. We will come up with a solution, but I doona want tae start a war. We have tae be clever.”

  “I understand,” even those two small words felt impossible to say aloud. She wished Gavin was with them, he would have come up with a strategy.

  “I need tae keep ye out of The Cabduh’s line of sight. I’ll have one of the lads, escort ye back tae Gavin and I’ll take council with my uncle. Ye need tae rest. We’ll sit on this for a day and come for ye when we have a solution.”

  Amelia was finding it difficult to think. The Cabduh Laird himself had come for her. Surely the old man brought all that was left of his army as well. Amelia couldn’t help but wonder how it would be possible to avoid a war. The laird took her arm, gently guiding her back toward the castle. A day, this one last day with Gavin, that was what she would focus on. Not the growing dread she felt at having to face Laird Cabduh again.

  Chapter Thirty

  “How long must we wait fer th’ Laird to greet us? We are allies, are we not?” Laird Cabduh shouted, causing Tristan to flinch. How he wished his father would keep his mouth shut. They had arrived at the MacLeod Keep only an hour previous, unannounced after a long and arduous journey. Surely, the man would be tired.

  “Da, ye need tae be patient. We did arrive unannounced.” Tristan hoped that Gavin and Amelia made it away from here, or perhaps never arrived. He didn’t want to see the lass punished by his father’s hand.

  “UNANNOUNCED!” Laird Cabduh yelled. “We sent men to Laird MacLeod weeks ago advising him of th’ witch’s plan. He kent we were coming. He is avoiding us on purpose.” The door to the study where Tristan and his father were asked to wait opened, and two large highlanders entered. Tristan knew instinctually by his demeanor and stride that the larger and younger of the two was Laird Macleod.

  “Cabduh,” Laird MacLeod nodded in his father’s direction. “I’m sorry ye feel ye’ve been mistreated. We were nay expectin’ ye, and we have clan business tae attend tae. It’s a busy time of year for us here, the Spring thaw is well underway an’ I’ve been busy with the men getting th’ ground ready for crops.”

  Laird Cabduh grumbled, and Tristan tried to hide his smile. It was clear the men had been listening at the door and heard his father’s outburst.

  “Who is this man with ye?” Liam turned toward Tristan.


  “Tristan Cabduh, my laird,” Tristan said, trying his best to maintain eye contact. He had never encountered a man so large. The Cabduh clansmen were big, braw men, but Laird MacLeod had the presence and size of what Tristan thought of when he pictured highlanders of a time gone by. He had the bearing of the Pict ancestors who conquered this land hundreds of years prior. His father would be a fool to challenge this man.

  “My useless, no good son!” Cabduh spat. “Tell me why ye decided tae keep us locked up here in this… whatever this is?” He waved his arm around the library as if disgusted at the volumes upon volumes of books. Tristan simply nodded at the men, he had learned long ago not to let his father’s harsh words hurt him. The hurt was buried deep inside. He reminded himself he was only waiting for the old man to die. If only he had the ability to kill his father himself. He had had more than his fair share of opportunities, yet when it came right down to it, Tristan couldn’t bring himself to harm his father. It was his lasting shame.