Highland Challenge (Highland Generations Book 1)

by B. J. Scott

  “Nine.” Andrew raised his hand. “Dinna get up, Tiran. I am here visiting at Laird MacCurtry’s request.” He continued his approach with his arm outstretched, then clasped his friend’s wrist. After exchanging greetings, he stepped back. “Aside from your injured leg, you are looking well, and I can see you have been busy.” He glanced in the direction of Sorcha and the bairns, then smirked. “Verra busy.”

  Tiran laughed and pointed to a chair across from him. “Have a seat and we can catch up on what has been happening since last we saw each other.”

  “We dinna have a lot of time to spend on this visit, and I am sure Mareal would like to check your leg. I will make it a point to come back when we can spend more time reminiscing.” He moved aside and allowed Mareal to pass.

  She squatted beside Tiran’s chair and began to examine the wooden splints and linen rags binding them in place. “Can you move your toes for me?” she asked, then waited for him to comply.

  “I can, but it hurts like the devil,” Tiran said as he clenched his teeth.

  “It is to be expected. You suffered a nasty break.” After gently removing the fabric covering his injured leg, then taking a closer look at his foot, Mareal rocked back, resting on her heels. “The swelling has gone down, and the color of your toes is much better than it was. If you continue to rest and dinna try to walk too soon, your leg should be as good as new.” After re-applying fresh linens to secure the splints, Mareal reached into her satchel and plucked out a small canvas sack. “I brought some more willow bark for the pain, along with a few other herbs that should help.” She stood and handed them to Sorcha.

  “Thank you. Without these, there would be no living with the man.” Sorcha clutched the sack of herbs to her chest. “Would you and Lord Andrew like to stay and eat with us? I have a pot of mutton stew on the hearth.”

  “Mayhap another time. It is late and we must be getting back to the castle. I want to check in on my father, and as promised return afore dark.” Mareal gathered up her supplies and turned to Andrew. “Say your goodbyes, so we can be on our way.” She didn’t wait for him to reply and headed toward the door of the croft.

  “Best you do as you are told,” Tiran laughed, then offered his hand.

  “Aye, you may be right.” Andrew chuckled and grasped his friend’s wrist. “It was great to see you again, and I promise to come back afore I leave for Fraser Castle.”

  “How long will you be here?”

  Andrew released Tiran’s arm, then raked his fingers through his hair. “I am not certain. It all depends on Laird MacCurtry and how soon he recovers from his illness.”

  “I havena been able to visit the castle in a fortnight.” He thumped his hand on his injured leg. “But Sorcha tells me the laird’s health has deteriorated and they fear the worst. It will be a great loss if he doesna survive. He is well loved by all.”

  Andrew found himself choked up at the devotion and affection expressed by Tiran. He knew the laird was revered by everyone in the clan, and hoped that the Almighty would see fit to spare him. “Aye. It would be a great loss to many. Especially his daughter. But we will continue to pray for the best.” With that, he spun on his heel, headed out of the croft, and joined Mareal by the horses.

  Andrew glanced skyward. “The day is waning, and it will be dark soon. Best we head back to the castle.” He climbed atop his destrier and picked up the reins. Again, he was impressed with how well Mareal completed her duties as clan healer, his admiration for her building.

  “After we stop to get the herbs that I promised Donella.” Mareal hauled herself into the saddle, patted the mare’s neck, then clucked her tongue. “Let’s go, Star.”

  ****

  As the sun slowly sank—the horizon now painted with an array of colors—Mareal kicked her horse into a trot, determined to find the herbs she needed, and return to her father’s bedside as soon as possible. But as she neared the forest at the eastern edge of the MacCurtry holdings, a powerful sense of impending danger and death washed over her. She prayed her da’s condition had not deteriorated in her absence, but would not know until she got home.

  “This is where you plan to get the herbs?” Andrew’s brow furrowed. “Is this forest na on the border between your father’s land and that belonging to Lord Billingsworth?”

  “Aye it is,” she replied simply and reined in her horse.

  “I am not so sure this is wise. Billingsworth is English, one of the few buggers who remained in Scotland after we won back our independence at Bannockburn, and is a sworn enemy of your da.”

  “True, but we are on MacCurtry land, and this is the only place I can get the herbs Donella needs.” She dismounted and began to scour the ground along the edge of the forest for the desired plants.”

  “Just the same, stay where I can see you and dinna dally,” Andrew said as he surveyed the area with his hand covering the hilt of his sword.

  “You worry too much Andrew. I come here all the time and naught has ever happened. Donella needs the herbs for my father and I dinna plan to leave without them.” When her search turned up empty, she ventured further into the brush and bracken until she spotted what she sought at the base of a tree, then stooped to collect it.

  Despite having visited these woods numerous times without incident, something felt different. Suddenly aware of the darkness closing in around her, and realizing she had wandered out of Andrew’s sight, a shiver ran up her spine. Best not to tempt fate, she thought and turned to leave, but instead ran into an unyielding wall of muscle.

  “What are you doing here?” A man growled as he seized her upper arm, his nails digging into her flesh.

  She swallowed hard as she peered into eyes as dark and menacing as those of the devil himself. “I could ask you the same thing, Kayden.”

  “Where in God’s name have you run off to, Mareal? I know the herbs are important, but I told you to stay where I could see you. I—” Andrew halted in his tracks and drew his sword.

  “Well if it isn’t the prodigal son. Or should I say, the want-to-be son?” Kayden snapped. “You are the last person I expected to see. But then again, it confirms the rumors I have heard about my uncle’s illness.”

  “I have no idea what you are blathering about,” Andrew snapped and took a step closer.

  “I may na be living at MacCurtry Castle, but rumors travel quickly. I know the old man is sick and not long for this earth,” Kayden said.

  “My father’s state of health is none of your concern,” Mareal spat, then tried to tug free of his grasp.

  Kayden refused to let go, tightened his grip on her arm, and gave her a rough shake. “Still the little hellion, I see. I always thought a good lashing would benefit you immensely.”

  “Let her go, now,” Andrew demanded and raised his sword.

  “I will when and if I am damned good and ready to do so.” Kayden scowled at Andrew.

  The growing tension and animosity between the two men was almost palpable, and Mareal feared they were on the brink of doing battle. Despite the fact her heart was hammering so loudly she was certain her cousin could hear it, she squared her shoulders and glared up at Kayden. “This is MacCurtry land and you have no right to be on it. My father banished you and told you never to return. I insist you unhand me and leave at once.”

  “Is that right?” Kayden tossed back his head and laughed. “This land may border your father’s estate, but you are the one who is trespassing. These woods belong to Lord Billingsworth, na your father.”

  “Lord Billingsworth is a treacherous, English swine who should na have been allowed to remain on Scottish soil. King Robert the Bruce should have forced him to leave when he reclaimed Scotland,” Mareal spat. “I canna believe you would befriend him of all people. Especially when you know he is my father’s sworn enemy, and your own father died at the hands of the English.”

  “We are na here to dispute land claims,” Andrew said. “Let Mareal go and we will be off.”

  “This is none of you
r affair, Fraser, and you dinna give me orders.” Rather than releasing her, Kayden tightened his grip on Mareal’s arm. “There is a lot more to this than a land claim. As for my friendship with Lord Billingsworth, he offered me a home when my own clan turned their back on me.”

  “I dinna know what caused this great rift between you and Laird MacCurtry, Kayden, but your quarrel is with him, na Mareal.” Andrew inched closer, lessening the gap between them.

  “My quarrel is with all of the MacCurtry clan and anyone who sides with them and against me,” Kayden growled. “I demand to know if what I heard about my uncle being close to death is true.”

  Mareal squared her shoulders, inclined her chin, and met her cousin’s malevolent jeer with one of her own. “Why is it so important you know? Have you suddenly developed a heart and a sense of clan loyalty? Or are you waiting around like a vulture to swoop in and devour what remains should anything happen to father?” Mareal snapped, unable to hold her tongue.

  “Where was my so-called clan when I needed them, when I was being sent away from my home and my rightful place as tanist by an old man who had clearly taken leave of his senses?” Anger flared in Kayden’s eyes as his face contorted into a menacing grimace, then he twisted her arm until she winced and whimpered in pain.

  Mareal could not remember a time when she’d felt as terrified or uncertain as to what her cousin might do next. But as unsettling as his unpredictable actions might be, she’d never backed down from him when they were bairns, and she refused to cower before him now.

  “My father had his wits about him when he sent you away, and still does,” she snapped. “He took you in when your father died, and you had nowhere else to go. He treated you like a son, and you repaid him with treachery, disloyalty, and treasonous acts.” Once she started, Mareal found it hard to harness her rage. “It is high time the truth was spoken, and you take responsibility for the wayward deeds that got you banished.”

  When Kayden retaliated with a backhanded slap that sent Mareal to her knees, Andrew lunged forward, prepared to defend her. But he halted when Kayden swiftly dragged her to her feet, then held her against his chest with a dagger beneath her chin. “Take another step and I will slit her throat.”

  Andrew stood down, glowering at Kayden. “You hide behind a woman like a coward. Release her and fight me instead.”

  “I’d like nothing better, and will deal with you as well. But first I—” Kayden continued, but his threats were interrupted by the sound of many hooves approaching fast.

  “Andrew, Lady Mareal, where are you?” a man shouted.

  “Seamus,” Kayden hissed.

  “Aye, and with a garrison of my father’s men, no doubt,” Mareal said.

  Kayden cursed, then lowered his dagger and shoved Mareal toward Andrew, causing her to stumble into his arms. “You can be sure this is far from over,” he growled before disappearing into the woods.

  Her entire body trembled like a leaf, so Mareal welcomed Andrew’s strong embrace when he hugged her to his chest. “I was certain he’d kill me and then you,” she stammered.

  “You are safe now, and Kayden will na hurt you, I promise,” Andrew whispered in her ear and tightened his hold on her.

  “You dinna know that for certain. My cousin is a man possessed, and he will stop at naught to get what he wants.” She fisted his tunic and rested her cheek upon his chest.

  “Andrew,” Seamus shouted as he swung down from the saddle and ran toward them, with Brodie and two other warriors following his lead. “When we found your horses grazing in the meadow, we feared something had happened to you,” he said, then came to an abrupt halt and covered his mouth with his hand. “Forgive the intrusion. We had no idea you were occupied thusly.”

  Andrew released Mareal and immediately put some distance between them. “It is na what you think. Mareal was gathering herbs for Donella when Kayden showed up and attacked her. I was about to skewer him, but the blackguard ran off when he heard you and the others coming. Just now, I was offering her comfort.”

  “Kayden was here?” A scowl of contempt crossed Seamus’s face. He drew his sword as his gaze darted around the immediate area. “Where is the bastard? Did he harm you, m’lady?”

  “Nay. He released me and ran off like a coward.”

  “He is lucky he fled when he did. I’d have gladly flayed the bugger.” Seamus sheathed his weapon.

  Mareal smoothed her hand down the front of her tunic, then peered up at Seamus. The minute she looked in his eyes, she knew there was something troubling him, something more than his concern for her safety. “You had no idea we might encounter Kayden. Why did you come along when you did? Is it father?”

  With downcast eyes, Seamus nodded. “I am afraid he has taken a bad turn and Donella sent us to find you.”

  His words hit her like a violent blow, causing her to stagger backward with a hand clutched to her throat.

  Andrew caught her from behind and steadied her. “Are you alright?”

  “I must go to him at once,” she sobbed, then took off running in the direction of the horses.

  Chapter Seven

  Not even the thunder of her horse’s hooves on the rocky ground could drown out the sound of her own heart hammering. Andrew and the others followed, but she did not slow her mount. There wasn’t time to wait for them. She had to get home to her father, and prayed she wasn’t too late.

  Relieved to see the open portcullis yawning before them, Mareal guided Star beneath the iron spikes and into the bailey, where she immediately noticed a large crowd of somber-faced crofters gathered in front of the keep. As she neared the castle steps, she slowed her mount, and leapt from the saddle before the mare came to a complete stop. When her feet hit the ground, she stumbled, but managed to remain upright. “Let me pass,” she rasped and shoved a large man out of her way, then raced up the stone steps.

  Amos met her at the door. “Lady Mareal, I am glad Seamus found you. Your father is asking for you.”

  “I must go to him, Amos.” She darted up the stairs and dashed down the hallway toward her father’s solar.

  “Lady Mareal.” The guard standing outside her father’s door bowed, then shot her a sympathetic glance, before stepping to the side and allowing her to enter the room.

  Battling tears, she stiffened her spine, choked back a sob, and shoved open the door. Greeted by a thick haze of smoke and the pungent aroma of herbs, she coughed. A fire burned on the hearth and a single candle on the bedside table provided the only other source of light. She advanced, narrowing her gaze enough to make out the shadow of a woman sitting beside the bed. “Donella?”

  “Thank the Almighty you have come home, lass.” Donella rose from her stool and threw her arms around Mareal’s shoulders. “I feared you would not get back before he passed.”

  Mareal jerked from the healer’s embrace. “Naught is going to happen this day. It is only a small setback, and on the morrow my father will be much better. I believe this to be true.” She dipped her hand into her tunic, retrieved the canvas sack, and thrust it at Donella. “Look. I got you everything you asked for. Surely these will help.” Despite her efforts, she couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice.

  “Naught will help now, I am afraid.” Donella placed the sack of herbs on the table. “The Almighty has seen fit to call the laird home. No one can stop it, and there is na a potion to prevent it.”

  “I dinna believe you. He canna be dying.” Mareal dropped to her knees beside the bed and lifted her father’s cold clammy hand to her lips. “Please, Da, you must fight this. You mustna give up.”

  “Dinna cry, Daughter. My time has come, and I go to meet my Lord. I am hoping your mam will be waiting for me when I arrive as well.” The laird brushed his knuckle across her cheek.

  “I dinna want you to go, Father. I am sorry if I gave you grief. From now on, I will do what you say, dress, and act however you wish. Please dinna leave me,” she begged.

  “None of this is your fault, Mare
al,” the laird reassured her, his voice strained and barely above a whisper. “It is the Lord’s will.”

  She lowered her head and began to pray for more time. However, when she heard the harsh gravelly gurgling in his chest with each intake and exhale of breath, she knew her plea was futile. The death rattle, as many called it, was one she’d heard while tending the mortally ill or wounded, just before they crossed over.

  “I wish there was something I could do for you, Da.” The growing lump of emotion rising in her throat felt like it was about to choke her, so she drew in a slow breath. “I would gladly change places with you if I could.”

  “Nay. That is the last thing I want,” the laird rasped. “But there is one thing you can do for me.” He began to cough and struggled to catch his breath.

  “Name it. I will do anything you ask, but try to relax,” she pleaded and squeezed his hand.

  When the coughing jag subsided enough so he could once again speak, the laird peered up at his daughter, his expression serious. “I want you to listen to Andrew. I know he is na kin, but he is like a son to me, and I asked him to find you a husband who can take my place.”

  “I know this, but, Father, I dinna wish to—” she started, but her father didn’t let her finish.

  “You said you would do anything I asked,” he mumbled. “I love you more than anything on this earth, Mareal. Mayhap it was the reason I allowed you to behave like a lad, and to follow your heart, rather than abiding by Highland tradition. But those days are over. You have a responsibility to the clan and must start to act accordingly.”

  Mareal bit her lip to keep from saying something she would regret for the rest of her life. Her father was on his deathbed and she refused to spend their last moments together arguing. She did not wish or need anyone to choose a husband for her and that would never change, but she also wanted her father to die at peace.

  “Do I have your word?” The laird began to cough and sputter again, gasping for air.