The Highlander’s Destiny

by Wine, Mary

  Faolan finished pleating his kilt and lay down in the middle of the wool to pull the ends of the belt up and around his middle. He stood and used a second belt over the top of the wool to make sure it was secure. Gainor held out his bonnet.

  All three feathers on the side of it were raised.

  Faolan contemplated it for a moment. A sense of satisfaction built inside him as he took the cap and pulled it onto his head.

  The Church had an issue to debate?

  Well, he was ready.

  *

  The three priests stood in the great hall. They’d taken a spot at the top of the steps that led up to the high ground. The hall itself was eerily silent. Which was made worse by the fact that it appeared every McKay Retainer was stuffed into the space to see what the proceedings were to be about.

  Cora stepped forward, stopping in front of the men. She put her right foot behind her and bent her knee to lower herself in reverence, holding the position until the priest in the middle raised her.

  “Cora Mackenzie, we have some questions for ye,” the priest began.

  “Do yer questions need to be asked so publicly?” Faolan asked as he came from the side passageway. He stopped and reached up to tug on the corner of his cap.

  “Since the matter pertains to her Christian nature, it is best the clan is afforded the right to hear these proceedings.”

  Cora felt her mouth go dry. But she inclined her head. “I am at yer disposal.”

  She’d not cower. It was hardly the first time someone had spun unflattering tales about her.

  This is the Church, not kitchen gossips…

  Cora understood the difference very well, and yet, she caught Faolan’s eye. When he glanced at her, there was a flicker of approval in his blue eyes.

  She’d not disappoint him.

  By Christ, she would not.

  “Who is yer lover, woman?” the priest demanded loudly.

  “My what?” Cora asked.

  “We just flew a wedding sheet,” Faolan spoke up. “She was a virgin.”

  Cora drew in a stiff breath. Her cheeks colored in response to the personal nature of the conversation.

  “It was reported this morning that Cora Mackenzie was on the wall last night, in naught but a smock, walking out to meet her lover,” the priest declared venomously. “Ye did nae even keep yer wedding vows a single day.”

  There was a shuffling of feet from the men watching. A low rumbling began to fill the hall.

  “It was me,” Faolan raised his voice, and half turned to face the assembled McKay. “I was up on the wall with me wife.”

  The priests drew in close to one another, exchanging words in hushed tones. The oldest one stood in the middle. He pointed a finger at her.

  “Is it true ye were out in the storm in nothing but a smock?”

  Cora bit her lip. She drew in a breath to temper her tone. “I woke up and opened the shutters and saw me husband. I did not think anyone else was about.”

  The priest grunted.

  “I beckoned her forward,” Faolan added. “If ye feel the need to blame someone, it’s me.”

  The priest turned to face Faolan. “We wondered if that was the case. There have been great tragedies on McKay land in the last week. Since Cora Mackenzie came to this stronghold, there has been murder.”

  “Noreen stabbed her husband,” Faolan argued. “That was witnessed.”

  “Yet, she was driven to the action by jealousy,” one of the priests leveled the charge.

  “Aye,” Faolan agreed.

  “And ye did not consummate yer wedding vows on the night ye took the sacrament? Even coming the morning after to seek an annulment?” the third priest was quick to demand.

  There was more rumbling from the McKay. Faolan held up a hand. “Those were my actions.”

  The oldest priest looked at Faolan. “Is it true Cora Mackenzie arrived at yer tower during a violent storm?”

  Cora felt a chill go down her back. There was no missing the direction the priest was heading in.

  “Aye,” Faolan answered clearly. “It is a normal time for such storms.”

  “And yet there was another violent storm last night. When Cora Mackenzie awoke alone and craved ye?”

  Now the whispers rose higher.

  “It is winter,” Faolan replied, his tone tight as he fought for control over his temper.

  “Noreen Grant was a gentlewoman,” the older priest spoke again. “Something drove her over the edge into madness. And now we have this report of Cora Mackenzie walking out in a smock in the midst of a storm. Where would any true daughter of faith get the notion to do such a thing?”

  Cora felt her breath freezing in her chest.

  “It’s my fault.”

  Cora blinked and realized she hadn’t imagined the voice. The priests were looking past her. Cora turned her head to see Brynna nodding.

  “The mistress has given me a far higher place than I ever thought to have. So when I saw her feeling so forlorn over being neglected by her husband last night…I…told her how to entice him. To wear only her smock in the rain,” Brynna said. “I grew up in a brothel.”

  “Brynna…” Cora looked at her in shock.

  “Orla told ye I am a bad sort, Mistress.” Brynna lowered herself. “Thank ye for being kind to me, but I can nae allow ye to suffer for my misdeeds.”

  “Orla?” The older priest raised his voice.

  The Head-of-House was quick to answer the summons.

  “Is it true?” the priest demanded. “Is this girl from a brothel?”

  “She served in one as a maid,” Orla replied. “She passed the midwife’s inspection and is still a virgin. So as a McKay, she is allowed to serve in this house. The sin was her father’s for not allowing for her mother to raise her in a better place.”

  “It would seem yer sin is allowing her to tend to the mistress,” one of the younger priests accused Orla.

  “Aye.” The Head-of-House sunk into a low reverence.

  “A servant is not responsible for my behavior. As mistress, it falls to me to set the example,” Cora quickly spoke up. “I submit to yer judgment.” She joined Orla in deep reverence.

  “This is my house,” Faolan said. “This woman is my wife. I have the blessing of the Church to have her in me bed.”

  “Yet the duty of marriage is not to be soiled with lust” The older priest shook his head.

  The three priests put their heads together once more. They spoke for a time as Cora felt a little trickle of perspiration.

  “Ye,” the older priest pointed at Brynna, “will receive four blows from the whip for inciting the mistress to entice her husband.”

  “Ye…” the priest pointed at Cora. “Will receive two blows.”

  “The Head-of-House receives two as well.”

  The hall was silent for a long moment.

  “Forgive me,” Faolan said. “But the first man who lays a hand on me wife for courting me attention will feel the weight of me fists.”

  There was a ripple of amusement in the hall. All three of the priests’ expressions tightened.

  “Defy the will of the Church, and none of ye will receive the holy sacrament!”

  “Bring the whip,” Cora ordered. “I will take all the blows since it is my behavior that caused concern.”

  She marched down the aisle toward the large doors. She heard Faolan make a sound as his captains surround him to hold him back.

  Outside, there was a raised platform built of stone. It was a place of public punishment. Cora yanked her skirts out of the way as she mounted the steps. There seemed to be a discussion over who would wield the whip. Brynna was trying to join her.

  “Ye will stay there, Brynna,” Cora ordered the girl.

  “But…”

  “I am yer mistress,” Cora declared to one and all. “Since the Church is angry with me, I will suffer the price. Orla, ye’ll stand there, as well, and mind me.”

  An older Retainer shook his head but finall
y climbed the steps with the whip in his hand. Cora turned and grasped the large iron ring that prisoners were often tied to. She offered her back and set her teeth.

  The first blow was harsher than she imagined. The pain bit into her, penetrating to her bones. Her vision became fuzzy, so she gasped, pulling in a deep breath to keep herself from passing out. Whoever was wielding the whip was merciful, for they kept the pace quick, delivering three more blows without pausing.

  “Courage, Mistress,” he muttered to her as he pulled her hands off the ring.

  Cora had clenched her fingers around the ring to stay in place.

  “Look them straight in the eyes,” he advised softly.

  Cora enjoyed his humor. “I intend to.”

  She turned and lifted her chin. Her eyes burned, but she faced the priests. There was a mutter of approval from the crowd. It didn’t please the priests, though. They put their heads together and conversed for a time.

  The priest pointed at the Retainer, who had wielded the whip. “Ye were too soft. She did not yell.”

  The Retainer tilted his head to one side. “Would ye care to come and have a sample so ye might make a fair judgment?”

  The crowd chuckled, making the priest turn red.

  “Cora Mackenzie, ye are overproud,” the older one proclaimed.

  Cora remained in her reverence. The priest grunted.

  “Yet, ye are a dutiful mistress for shielding yer maid and Head-of-House.”

  There was another muter of approval from the crowd. Pain was prickling along each stripe the whip had left across her back.

  “But pride is the enemy of harmony in a marriage. A wife must submit to her husband’s authority.” The priest drew in a deep breath. “Ye will be barefoot for the next week to teach ye humility.”

  Cora rose. By doing so, she accepted the punishment.

  Well, it’s hardly the first time…

  The priests on Mackenzie land had done their best to get a bridle on her. Cora sat right down on the steps of the punishment platform and pulled her shoes off. A quick tug on her garters and Brynna and Orla were able to pull her stockings off. She felt the cold immediately but stood up and walked right across the stones to the hall.

  Her husband was out cold.

  Gainor offered her a helpless look as he and Yestin stood near the table where Faolan’s head was resting on the worn top. There was a red spot on his jaw, marking where someone had hit him. But he wouldn’t remain that way for long. A moment later, he was stirring. The McKays had begun to file back into the hall.

  “Mistress.”

  “Ma’am.”

  “Lady.”

  Cora blinked as a steady stream of greetings came her way. The McKay Retainers reached up to tug on the corners of their caps when they passed her.

  Astonishment went through her. What it left behind was a sense of purpose. One she knew without a doubt she’d earned.

  Nothing had ever felt better.

  “It seems ye’ve managed to carve out yer place, Cora.”

  Faolan was on his feet. Cora turned her head to catch the glint in his blue eyes.

  He was furious.

  But Faolan held up a finger. “We’ll talk in just a wee bit. I have another matter to attend to first.”

  Her husband turned. She watched Faolan send a glare toward his captains before he climbed right up onto the table he’d been passed out on.

  “Where are ye?” Faolan called out.

  The McKay Retainers turned to look at him.

  “Where is the bastard who dared to touch my woman?”

  There was a collective intake of breath among the men watching. Orla snapped her fingers at the maids who had begun to serve the morning meal. They hurried back through the passageway that led to the kitchen.

  “Mistress, ye must come away,” Brynna urged her.

  “Ye will not start a fight, Faolan.” Cora reached for the end of his kilt.

  But Orla caught her wrist. “Brynna is correct. Ye will be coming away now. The men have their business to attend to.”

  Brynna had frozen, staring wide-eyed at Orla. Cora suffered from the same surprise, but Faolan interrupted.

  “Get into the kitchen, Cora, or I’ll have ye taken there,” Faolan ordered her.

  Cora felt her temper flare.

  But her memory was quick to offer up the times he’d tossed her right over his shoulder when he was intent on getting his way.

  “Come away, Mistress,” Orla told her firmly.

  “Where are ye?” Faolan demanded once more. “Are ye going to make me hunt ye down like a damned rodent? I’ll pull ye out of whatever burrow ye try to hide in!”

  The assembled Retainers made an approving sound. It was half growl, half cheer.

  And very male.

  “Ye will not fight over me,” Cora protested.

  But several of the women came up from where they were watching from the safety of the opening into the great hall. They encircled Cora and carried her back with them.

  “I will know his name!” Faolan was still waiting. “Every McKay suffers when we do nae remember that a complaint against one of us is a complaint against us all. We are only as strong as our bond to one another.

  A cheer filled the hall.

  Faolan looked around at his men. “I’ve no tolerance for scheming. There will be a court held every other Friday, if you have a case to be heard. I may not be polished, but I swear I will die before I shame the name of McKay.”

  The hall filled with the sound of men pounding on the tabletops in approval.

  There was a scuffle as a man was pushed forward. The Retainers formed a wall behind him. Faolan faced him.

  “So…ye are the one.”

  Faolan jumped off the table. There was a shift as tables and chairs were pulled aside to afford Faolan a place to face off with the man.

  He spit on the floor. “Aye. I’m Bayrd, and I say ye are bastard born. Malcolm has two legitimate daughters. The next laird should come from them for their mother was from a royal bloodline.”

  “Cora Mackenzie is from fine stock as well,” Faolan argued.

  “She is a witch,” Bayrd accused. “I stood in the gatehouse and watched the way she called in the storm. Walking across the wall in naught but wet linen. The cold didnae touch her at all! Everyone knows a witch does nae need to be warm! Since she has enchanted ye, I went to the Church for the good of everyone. She has ye by yer balls.”

  Cora felt her breath freeze in her throat. The accusation was a harsh one. Words such as that could get her burned. The young king had a taste for hunting witches.

  Faolan sent the man reeling with a solid blow across his jaw.

  “As I told ye, I am not polished, but I know a storm for what it is,” Faolan raised his voice, so it was heard throughout the great hall. “It’s past Samhain now. The storm was winter settling in, not witchery.”

  Bayrd gained his feet quickly. “Are ye saying ye do nae believe in witches?”

  There was a shifting in the hall. Men leaned closer to hear Faolan’s answer.

  “I do nae believe in looking to assign blame for every bit of poor luck that comes my way. Life is hard. Only a child expects to be given what they need without having to face challenges. I am alive because I did no’ sit around licking me wounds. Move to England if ye want fair weather.”

  Cora bit her lower lip. It seemed an eternity before there were sounds of approval moving through the assembled McKay.

  It might had gone the other way.

  Bayrd grunted. “So, are ye going to banish me to the towers now?”

  “The towers are our first defense against invasion,” Faolan declared. “Only the most loyal of men and women will serve there. Malcolm was a fool to send the discontented there.”

  There was another round of pounding on the table.

  “While I am laird, whoever serves a year at the towers will be considered next for promotion in rank. Women as well. For the person who guards me back during
the winter is the one I want next to me in this stronghold. You…” Faolan pointed at the man, “will be tossed out of this stronghold for spouting nonsense designed to frighten everyone. Spend the winter minding the sheep. If ye can find some sense, ye may keep the McKay colors.”

  There was a round of approval. Faolan climbed back onto the table.

  “I will hear no more tales of witchery! Each man will face his life with courage!”

  It was a bold statement. One which could so easily end in the priests cutting the clan off from the sacrament. Such an action spelled doom for any laird, for the people would rise up in rebellion. But the McKay pounded the tabletops as the women in the kitchens added their cries of delight to the moment.

  Cora found herself struck dumb as she watched Faolan standing there surrounded by the people who Noreen and Malcolm had worked so hard to turn against him.

  He was their laird now.

  Tears burned her eyes, and she didn’t fight them. Faolan found her, looking over his men to gaze at her. They were the same in so many ways. Both striving for acceptance while being unwilling to compromise on earning their way.

  She was proud to be his wife.

  *

  Gilmor sat in the great hall with the rest of the Retainers. Maids began to bring in the meal for them to break their fast. It was hot porridge with honey and leftover sliced bread from the day before. There were pitchers of fresh milk from the morning milking that were passed around with large grins, for they all knew the cows would go dry soon.

  “He’s a decent laird.”

  “His words were fair enough.”

  “I’ve no stomach for those who cry witchery.”

  “Better to have good sense in this hall.”

  Gilmor ground his teeth and kept his opinion to himself. What gave him hope was the fact that he was not alone. There would always be those who waited silently to see how the power shifted. The McKay were no different. Some men liked to talk. Others listened.

  Gilmor planned.

  *

  The McKay laird could go rot for all she cared!

  Cora slammed her fist into the closed door and heard Faolan chuckling.

  She pulled the door open. “I will nae stay in here!”

  She’d shouted before she got a look at the other side of the door. Four burly Retainers were crowded onto the landing now. None of them was young enough for her to talk them into doing her bidding either. The oldest one reached up to tug on the corner of his cap.