A Very Highland Holiday

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Thane raised a brow and forced a smile that appeared genuine. “I do apologize. I’m starved, and I tend to get a bit grouchy when I’m hungry,” he explained.

  “Och, dinna we all,” Carrie said with a laugh. She pushed past them into their chamber and placed the tray of food on the table, then took the jug and cups from the lad. “Feel free to leave the tray on the floor outside the chamber when ye’re done. The lads will come by soon to collect it.”

  When Carrie had left, Thane shut the door and stared at Sarah, who was pouring ale into the cups and setting out the food.

  “Why are ye being so agreeable?” he asked. “I abducted ye. I am dangerous.”

  Sarah glanced up from where she’d placed a spoon in Thane’s porridge, beside the melting ball of butter.

  “Why are ye dangerous?” she asked, studying him from head to toe. He was large; there was no doubt. Tall and muscular, where his sister had been small. A few faint scars, and a nose that had been broken more than once, showed he was a warrior, and the mere fact that he was still alive was proof he could handle himself. But that didn’t frighten her. If anything, it made her feel safe.

  Mayhap she was mad. For he did have a point.

  He stalked forward, the way a predator hunted prey.

  Instead of being scared, she found herself wanting to meet him halfway. Mayhap they weren’t getting enough air in this chamber.

  “Your family is responsible for Thea’s death.”

  Sarah nodded. She’d been waiting for him to say those words. They gave her something else to focus on besides the way her heart was beating wildly against her ribs. “Come, let’s eat while we talk.”

  The way he grimaced, she thought he would disagree, and her stomach growled in protest, but he did come forward and take the stool opposite the one she’d claimed.

  “Thea was—” she started, but he interrupted her.

  “How dare ye say her name?” He stabbed his spoon into the nearly melted butter.

  “She was my friend.” Sarah boldly met his gaze. “My brother, Jon, loved her.”

  Pain flickered in Thane’s eyes, and doubt. He likely didn’t know whether or not he could believe her, and she understood why.

  Sarah swirled the golden, dissolving lump of butter around her porridge. “I loved her, too. She brought life to our clan. Added light where there was darkness. Jon had been so disparaged by what was happening in Scotland—we all were—but she gave him hope.”

  She put down her spoon, suddenly unable to take a bite. Instead, she took a sip of bitter ale.

  Thane did the same, gulping the entire contents of his cup and then refilling it. “What happened?”

  The fact that he asked her that showed he expected to hear the truth from her, and she was more than willing to give it.

  “I might be a traitor to Edward and Ellyson for telling ye this, Thane, but I dinna believe that I’d be betraying Jon, or Thea or our clan for that matter. After we lost Jon at the Battle of Culloden, my brothers…they decided to rule the clan together. One in charge of the common people and one in charge of our soldiers.” Here she paused. “But it started even before then. They were always arguing with Jon over edicts he’d implemented or new ways of doing things. They hated that Thea was beloved by the clan, that a lot of the changes happening had started with her. She was brilliant, but ye know that. Edward and Ellyson were jealous, really.”

  This was the part that Sarah didn’t want to talk about, but she knew she had to tell him. He needed to understand that what happened to Thea was not on the entire clans’ heads.

  “They were increasingly hard on her after Jon died. Worried, I think, that she might be with child and that child would eventually take the place they’d claimed. So, when Thea was taken by the dragoons while gathering various herbs and roots just outside the castle walls, they declined to pay the ransom. They thought it better to be rid of her.” Sarah shook her head. “I pleaded with them, but they refused. I dinna think they believed she’d be killed, just taken away and married off to some English general.”

  “But she was killed.” Thane’s voice was low and fueled by anger and pain.

  She reached for his hand then but pulled back at the way he curled his fingers into the wood of the table. Comfort from her could come in the form of truth, but not yet from touch. That was the more appropriate form, anyhow.

  “Aye. Right in front of us as we stood on the battlements.” Sarah choked on a sob, bringing her hands to her mouth. “She didna deserve it. There was no retaliation. And I waited every day for ye to come and avenge her. I would have given ye the keys to the castle if ye’d asked.”

  Thane’s anger shifted to suffering. “And that is why ye came so willingly? Because ye think ye deserve to bear the brunt of whatever revenge I’ve got planned?”

  Sarah shook her head, shifted forward in her chair and then locked her gaze on his. “I told ye they were selling me off to the highest bidder.”

  “And ye think ye might have suffered Thea’s fate.”

  She shrugged. “I could have.”

  He was quiet a long time, staring into his porridge as he slowly spun his cup of ale on the table. Time ticked silently for so long she worried that he wasn’t going to speak again. Sarah sat on the edge of her seat, willing him to speak, to at least look up. He had to believe her.

  When he finally did, his voice was tight with emotion. “I dinna place blame on ye, Sarah. But knowing what ye’ve told me, it would be impossible for me no’ to bring war to your clan.”

  This she knew, but she was desperate to find a way out of it. To protect her people, even if her brothers wouldn’t. “If I could beg ye no’ to…If there were some way to punish Edward and Ellyson for what they’ve done without bringing pain to the people. They loved Thea, and she loved them.”

  Thane’s eyes were hard, the line of his mouth unbending. “I canna see a way out of it.”

  Chapter Five

  Thane was torn.

  He’d known already that his sister had suffered. The vague and unemotional missive that he’d received after her death from the new lairds of Campbell had been terse and to the point. Over the months, his mind had embellished what had happened, creating the torment in his mind that was his beloved sister’s demise.

  But even his own imaginings hadn’t culled that she might have been with child. That those two devils had been jealous enough of a potential bairn that they’d given away her life. He flexed his fists, wishing he had those two bastards in front of him right then and there.

  Oh, how he would murder them…

  Sarah might not have understood what would have been Thea’s fate, but Edward and Ellyson would have been very aware. There wasn’t a clan in Scotland that had been untouched by the ravages of the dragoons and the Duke of Cumberland’s orders to show no mercy. Men, women, children. It mattered not; they all suffered.

  He did not place blame on Sarah. In fact, she’d been trying to escape her brothers as well, and he’d provided the perfect avenue. As it turned out, his mission to abduct her for revenge had turned into a rescue mission. Some of his guilt assuaged, for he’d not truly intended on harming her. A scare perhaps in being abducted, but never would he have put her through what happened to Thea.

  Damn.

  He thought back to the lad in the stables at Campbell Castle, so grateful for a little kindness. To the wee lass who said she wanted her mistress back, that her mother needed her, how Thea had meant so much to them. Sarah was right that an entire clan should not have to suffer for the misdeeds of their conniving and selfish leaders.

  That was not the type of man he was, to make innocents suffer.

  “We should eat before it gets cold,” he said, needing to think a lot more before he spoke again.

  They ate in silence as his mind ruminated on one plan after another. A number of scenarios played out, but not one seemed more perfect over the other. They could infiltrate the walls and abduct Edward and Ellyson, execute them in the
woods. The Shaw clan could appeal to the rest of Clan Chattan, the cooperative confederate between the twelve clans to which the Shaws were a member. He could call upon the other rebel leaders who he’d fought with at Culloden. But the thing was other clans might not want to be involved. The Campbells were massive in size and power. He had to find a way to hit them where it hurt. Which he’d already started by abducting Sarah.

  When he’d finished eating, she began to gather their things on the tray, but he stilled her hand. “I’ll get it,” he offered and took the tray himself to place it outside the door.

  “Thank ye,” she called out to him.

  He stood by the door, his fingers resting on the handle. “Ye’re welcome.”

  Thane felt the heat of her presence before he saw her from the side of his eye, standing by his side. Her fingers brushed his. Tiny flames danced on the skin of his knuckles.

  “I’m truly verra verra sorry for your loss, Thane.”

  He turned to face her, seeing the tears, how much she too was heartbroken, in eyes that were the color of peat. “And I’m verra sorry for yours.”

  “We have all lost so much in this rebellion,” she whispered.

  “Shh…” He held his finger to his lips and nodded his head at the empty corridor. “Never know who’s listening.”

  Sarah bit her lip, peering out into the empty corridor. When she leaned back, her arm brushed his, and they both stared down at the spot. “How about we check out the Chamber of Sorrow?” she suggested in a welcome change of subject.

  “No’ certain that’s a very festive thing to do on Christmas morning, but I’m willing to try if ye like.”

  Sarah shrugged, grimacing slightly. “Better to see what we are fighting for than to sit here wallowing in our grief.”

  “Excellent point.”

  Thane took her hand in his, her small, warm fingers sliding comfortably against his. Their palms flattened against one another. He gritted his teeth at the contact and how it sent tiny shivers racing down his spine. As much as touching her excited him, he was also keenly aware of how easy it was to be with her. Thane would have thought it torture, but instead, he was quite calm around her.

  Sarah stopped suddenly. “Perhaps ye should leave your weapons here?” Her gaze was on his belt, where a pistol was holstered on one side and a dagger on the other.

  “Why would I do that?”

  She shrugged. “For the safety of others?”

  Thane chuckled at her humor. “I like the way ye think.”

  Sarah grinned, that impish dimple flashing at him, and he found himself mesmerized for a moment, his gaze tracing the outline of her lips. She looked nothing like her younger brothers. Acted nothing like them, either.

  “How are ye possibly related to Edward and Ellyson?” he mused, stopping them in the center of the corridor and glancing down at her.

  “They are my brothers,” she answered quite literally. “Though Jon and I share a different mother.”

  “Was their mother unkind?”

  Sarah frowned, the crease between her brow tiny, and he had the sudden urge to kiss her there.

  “She was not particularly unkind to me,” she said. “Ignored me mostly. I didna know her well. She died birthing Ellyson. The midwife, after the birth of Edward, warned that she should wait several years, allowing her body to heal after such a traumatic birthing, but she didna wait a month. Not even enough time to be clean in the eyes of the church. I remember her getting my da deep in his cups and having her way with him. She must have conceived that night. Edward and Ellyson are so close in age, less than a year, they could almost be twins.”

  Thane could not imagine Sarah pulling a trick like that. She just didn’t seem the type. “I wonder at her urgency.”

  Sarah released a long sigh and tugged at his hand, resuming their walk toward the Chamber of Sorrow by way of the tavern common area. “I’ve speculated on it over the years. She was a cousin of my mother. I think she was desperate to give my da two sons, while my mama had only been able to give him one.”

  “There are no guarantees. She risked her life when her second child could have been another lass.”

  “Aye. But jealousy does strange things to people.” Sadness edged her words.

  He was instantly reminded of her brothers and how they’d left Thea to her fate for their resentful reasons. “Seems it ran in her blood.”

  “Aye.”

  They reached the common room, which had taken on a more pleasant odor than before. Bows of holly had been spread near the hearth, ropes of pine on the mantel, and the dogs were gone, as were their messy piles. Platters of currant scones were in the centers of the tables, and jugs of what smelled like cider were beside them.

  “Och, but ye’ve come out,” Carrie said. “Have a scone. Cook’s specialty on Christmas morn.”

  “Perhaps after we see your Chamber of Sorrow?” Sarah said. “Unless Tobias, would enjoy one now?”

  For a moment, he forgot that she’d renamed him for the sake of their anonymity. Sarah indicated the table to Thane where a steaming pile of scones rested.

  “Will they still be here when we come back?” he asked Carrie.

  “Of course, and if they’re looking to get a bit low, I’ll set one aside for ye.”

  He flashed the woman a grateful smile, working hard to endear themselves to their hosts, so when the Campbells eventually came by, Thane and Sarah would be the last ones from their minds. A happy, jovial couple, versus a villain with an abducted lass, was not likely to be mentioned. “Our thanks.”

  “We aim to please at Balthazar’s.” She waved them to follow, leading them back through the various chambers until they reached her own bedchamber. “I keep it back here so no one can sneak in.”

  The door to the Chamber of Sorrow was not locked, Sarah noted.

  Carrie pushed the door open, which creaked and groaned, revealing a black cavern and swish of air that felt every bit as heavy as Sarah had imagined it would. Their host disappeared into the yawning dark, and Sarah had the intense urge to run. Nothing about this place felt good.

  There was a spark as Carrie lit a candle, the flash illuminating her pale, freckled face and the weapons behind her. Several more bursts, and then finally, she brought the chamber to glow, exposing the contents of the room.

  And with it, whether real or imagined, the scent of death.

  Dawning horror rained down on Sarah, prickling her skin, seizing her throat. When she made a move to enter, her feet remained rooted in place as if her subconscious were fearful of entering. She gripped onto Thane’s arm like an anchor, and he led her inside.

  “Gathered these up from the battlefield.” Carrie swept the candle high, revealing weapons that hung on the plastered walls with crude hooks. “And when others realized what I was doing here, they’ve brought me more.”

  A claymore, distinctly a rebel weapon, and above it a musket with a bayonet on the end—dragoon. Here at odds for eternity. They’d at least been cleaned before being put on display.

  “Been a few times now. I take the wagon with me.” She moved about the room, showing broken arrow shafts, a bow with the string snapped.

  An English sword, and another claymore. Sarah studied every weapon for signs of familiarity.

  “Is the battlefield close to here?” Sarah asked. If so, she’d ask Thane to take her when the weather dissipated. She wanted to pay respects to the place where her brother had died.

  “Och, nay,” Carried fluttered her hand as if it weren’t a big deal. “Several days ride in the wagon.” Her voice had taken on a somber tone. “So many were lost in the battle. This is my shrine to their memory.”

  Sarah suppressed a shudder as her eyes caught on a Highland cap, the white rosette cockade stained red with blood.

  “Did ye lose someone close to ye?” Sarah asked. It was increasingly difficult to conceal her emotions from Carrie, and she was glad for the shadows in the room that hid her expression.

  “Aye.” But Car
rie did not expound on that, and Sarah was afraid of delving too deep.

  Afraid she might reveal something about herself and Thane. “I’m verra sorry for your loss,” she managed.

  Carrie made a non-committal sound but did not return the sentiment. “I’ll leave the two of ye alone to mourn. I just ask ye close the door on your way out.”

  “We will.” Sarah took the candleholder from Carrie and stood in the center of the room for several moments before she lifted it high to reveal more of the walls.

  Swords, shields, spurs. A pair of roughly used boots. The sleeve of a jacket, the pattern distinctly plaid, and beside it, the sleeve of one that was red. More examples of the battle that waged between two factions. On the floor, beside a table full of coins, rings, and fragments of metal, were two cannonballs. She’d been told that was how Jon had died, torn apart by the blast of a cannon.

  Tears came to her eyes, and Sarah wrenched herself away from seeing anymore, running smack into Thane. His arms were around her instantly, holding her tight. His warmth was a comfort she needed. Wanted to bury herself inside.

  “This is…” She couldn’t even finish her sentence to say how awful the room made her feel.

  “Aye,” was all he murmured in return, stroking her hair.

  Thane took the candle from her, setting it down on the table before she lit his coat on fire.

  “This is no’ a Chamber of Sorrow,” Sarah said. “This is a Chamber of Horrors.”

  “Do ye want me to destroy it?”

  Sarah shook her head, leaning back to look up at him. It felt so good to be in his arms that she didn’t want to move away. His face was shadowed like hers, but she could see that he was not jesting.

  “As much as I want to say aye, if ye did, we’d both likely be killed. Or cursed.”

  “Possibly.” He tilted his head. “We might be able to escape quickly. The lad out back seemed eager to please.”