Highland Legend

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Ambrose knew that. “I’m not leaving before I have a chance tae speak with Magnus,” he said. “I know I can convince him tae come with us.”

  Conan wasn’t so sure. Now that he’d seen Magnus fight, he wasn’t sure about anything any longer. He looked at his father, seeing how determined the man was. When his father took on this mood, nothing could convince him otherwise.

  “I’m still not sure how,” he said after a moment. “If we’re honest with ourselves, it wasna as if Magnus had a good life at Culroy. He was a prisoner and treated like one. Those times werena kind tae him. He’ll look at us and be reminded of those years, Da. The man dinna like us.”

  Ambrose’s hawklike gaze was focused on the encampment of small stone cottages. “He’ll forget about his dislike when we offer tae help him,” he said. “I told ye that, lad. We can convince him that we will help him take revenge on his father.”

  Conan snorted. “Da,” he said slowly, “I dunna know if ye really saw the man fight tonight, but I’ll tell ye now that he doesna need us. Somewhere in the past seven years, Magnus became a world-class warrior.”

  “I saw.”

  “Did ye truly see? Did ye see the way he destroyed a man twice his size?”

  Ambrose looked at him. “I saw everything,” he said. “He’s the best warrior I’ve ever seen, but if he has any chance at revenge against Hugh, then he’ll need an army behind him. My army.”

  “That’s what ye’re offering him?”

  “That’s what I’m offering him.”

  Conan was eager to wreak havoc on Hugh Stewart at any given chance, but he was starting to think that his father might be delusional. The Magnus they saw tonight wasn’t that same frightened boy his father seemed to think he was. He seemed to think he could still manipulate Magnus into doing his bidding.

  But Conan wasn’t so sure. Still, he shut his mouth because at some point his father would start calling him a coward, or worse, and Conan didn’t want to get into it with him. Not now. He’d sit tight and let his father do what he needed to do.

  It was better than arguing with him.

  The encampment was coming more alive now that those who worked over at the Fields of Mars were retiring for the night. The smell of cooking fires filled the air, and they could see men and women moving around below and hear an occasional dog bark. It was probably an hour or two before dawn, and the clouds above were still riddled with thunder and lightning, though not as bad as before.

  Perhaps it would clear before morning.

  Conan was starting to doze off, feeling cold and drowsy, wishing he was in his bed. He was coming to think that Magnus had already made it into one of those cottages and they simply didn’t see him. He was about to say something to his father when one of the cottages on the rise to the west caught his attention.

  They’d seen a couple of men go into one of those cottages earlier. There were women waiting for them because they had seen them. The cottages were far enough away that Conan and Ambrose couldn’t see things in clear detail, but close enough that they could see something of the people. When the doors to the cottages opened up, light streamed out and they could see them fairly clearly.

  But those cottages had remained quiet since the men returned about a half hour ago. It was assumed everyone had gone to sleep until a door of one of the cottages opened and a small child darted out into the rain. A woman bolted out after him, calling out to him. They could hear her calling the child’s name—

  Nikki!

  The door to one of the other cottages opened and a man spilled out, rushing after the woman, who had just captured the child. The little boy was whining and crying as the woman carried him back, escorted by the man. They could hear voices as the woman and child were swiftly escorted back into the cottage and the door slammed.

  But by this time, Conan was on his feet, stunned by what he had just seen.

  “Da!” he hissed. “Do ye know who that woman was?”

  Ambrose was still watching the encampment. He hadn’t paid much attention to the escaped child, the woman, or the man.

  “What are ye talking about?” he snapped. “Sit down before someone sees ye!”

  Conan didn’t sit down. His shock was turning to outrage. “Da, that was Diantha!”

  Ambrose forgot all about the encampment. He bolted to his feet, his attention in the direction Conan was indicating.

  “Diantha?” he repeated. “Are ye certain?”

  Conan nodded quickly. “I saw her,” he insisted. “Did ye not hear her voice? With the Spanish cast? It was her!”

  Ambrose hadn’t seen her, nor had he been paying attention, so he was genuinely perplexed. “How can ye know that for certain?” he said. “’Tis dark out, so how could ye see her?”

  Conan was absolutely convinced. “Because I heard her voice,” he said. “I saw her when the light from the cottage shone upon her. Da, I swear, it was her!”

  Ambrose’s thoughts were quickly shifting from the return of Magnus to the sighting of Diantha de Mora, here at the Ludus Caledonia of all places. Diantha, the woman he intended for his son to marry, had disappeared over two weeks ago and no amount of searching had been able to turn up her trail. Several days ago, they’d finally given up because they’d run out of ideas as to where the woman could have gone.

  Some said the docks to find a ship to sail home. Some said the seedy west end of Edinburgh where the cutthroats and outlaws lived. Agnes had even suggested that she had been abducted.

  Perhaps she had been…but here she was at the Ludus Caledonia.

  Ambrose hadn’t seen her, but if Conan was convinced, so was he.

  “Damnation,” Ambrose finally blurted out. “What in the bloody hell is she doing here?”

  Conan shook his head. “I dunna know,” he said. “But she’s mine. I want her back!”

  He started to charge through the foliage on his way to the cottage where he’d last seen her, determined to pound the door down and retrieve what belonged to him, but Ambrose grabbed his arm.

  “Nay, lad,” he said. “Dunna go rushing in. This encampment is full of men who fight for a living, and ye dunna want tae risk ending up in a battle. If she’s here, it’s possible that she’s become the woman of a fighter. Mayhap she was stolen by one of them.”

  Conan was furious. “But she’s mine.”

  Ambrose yanked on him, pulling him out of the trees. “And I’m going tae get tae the bottom of this,” he said. “But we go tae Sir Clegg. He mayna even know she’s here, but whatever the situation, the man canna refuse tae return her tae her betrothed. If he resists me, I’ll not only bring the law on him, but the church as well. He’d be in for a world of trouble.”

  Conan was rushing along beside his father’s purposeful marching. “Do ye think this has anything tae do with Magnus?” he asked. “She’s here…and he’s here. And she disappeared the same day Agnes saw Magnus. He must be part of it!”

  Ambrose shook his head. “Dunna get yerself in a snit,” he said. “They may know each other, but I canna say. Ye know we dunna let the men mix with the women, unless yer mother is careless and allows such a thing. Who’s tae say? But we’ve found Diantha and I want her back. Ye’ll marry her immediately and we’ll be done with it.”

  Conan was in full agreement. He was still astonished by what he’d seen, but he’d swear on his life that he had, in fact, seen Diantha. He’d known the woman for years, an heiress who would give him a sizable chunk of Navarre.

  That was all she was worth to him.

  And he wanted her back…no matter what.

  ***

  “My lord?” It was Axel. “Are you awake?”

  Clegg had just lain down on his massive, elaborate bed that was made to look like a Roman barge. It was an enormous piece of furniture that had to be assembled inside the chamber because it was so big and elaborate. Curtains
of pale gossamer fabric hung from the ceiling, surrounding the bed and making it look like something surreal from another time. It could have easily accommodated five men had Clegg not kept it so piled up with pillows, because with all of those lumps of fabric, it could only accommodate one man.

  And that was all Clegg had ever intended.

  Hearing Axel’s voice, he opened his eyes and grunted.

  “What is it?”

  Axel came into the chamber, going for the table where the candles were located that Clegg had so recently blown out. Using a flint, he relit them.

  “We have a problem,” he said quietly. “The Duke of Ayr is in your solar, demanding to speak with you.”

  That wasn’t something Clegg wanted to hear, not at this hour. Not at any hour. He sat up, running his fingers through his long silver hair.

  “Great gods,” he muttered. “What now? I thought I gave orders to escort him and his son from the Cal.”

  “He and his son have seen Diantha.”

  Suddenly, Clegg wasn’t so sleepy. He pushed the curtains back, looking at Axel with some trepidation in his expression.

  “What?” he hissed. “How did this happen?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Does Magnus know?”

  Axel shook his head. “I do not believe so,” he said. “But I do not know for certain. The duke is demanding to speak to you about Diantha. He says that she is his son’s betrothed and must therefore be returned immediately. I fear he can make trouble for you, my lord.”

  Clegg was clad in a sleeping tunic, a heavy thing made from the finest lamb’s wool. He went to his wardrobe and grabbed the first robe he came to, a massive creation made from silk and fur that cost more than some men made in a lifetime of work.

  “He cannot truly make trouble for me, but he can cause a stir,” Clegg said as he pulled the robe on and secured it. “The man is a bully and a buffoon, a nasty combination. I saw that earlier today. You shall be with me when I speak to him, but summon my Praetorian first. I intend to order Ayr and his son away from the Cal and I suspect they will not go willingly. What I want to know is how they even saw her. Magnus assured us that she was remaining out of sight.”

  Axel shook his head. “I do not know, my lord,” he said. “They did not say how they saw her, only that they did. I will summon your guard immediately.”

  Clegg simply nodded, running his fingers through his hair again to slick it off his face as he descended to the floor below where his elaborate solar was located. As Axel disappeared into the shadows to summon Clegg’s private soldiers, men he called his Praetorian Guard whose sole responsibility was protecting him and his keep, Clegg entered his solar.

  The duke was standing at Clegg’s table, rifling through the pile of vellum on it, while his son was drinking Clegg’s very expensive Italian wine.

  That behavior set the tone for Clegg’s mood.

  It wasn’t good.

  Incensed, he walked up to his table and yanked all of the vellum that Ambrose was inspecting onto the floor. When Ambrose looked up at him, startled, Clegg’s silver eyes were blazing.

  “Unless you want me to enter your private room and look through all of your papers, I suggest you immediately step away from my table and find a chair to sit upon,” he said. Then he looked over at Conan, with the chalice halfway to his lips. “Put that down, boy. You were not invited to partake of my refreshments.”

  Clegg’s tone was nothing to be trifled with. Conan immediately set the wine down, but Ambrose, who had moved away from the table but had not found a chair, spoke up.

  “Ye have a woman here that belongs tae us,” he said angrily. “Diantha de Mora. I saw her in the encampment of cottages and I want her returned immediately.”

  Clegg was not impressed nor moved by the request. “The warriors’ encampment is forbidden to guests,” he said. “You were where you should not have been.”

  “That woman belongs tae me!”

  “You have violated my good graces for the last time, Ayr. You do not make demands of me in my own establishment.”

  Ambrose was starting to turn red in the face. He wasn’t used to being denied, now twice in one night.

  “If ye dunna return that woman tae me, I will go tae the magistrate in Edinburgh and tell him that ye have stolen her,” he hissed. “Then I will go tae the church and tell them that ye refuse tae return my son’s betrothed. Ye canna fight both the church and the law, de Lave. I suggest ye rethink yer stance. This can all go away quietly if ye simply return her tae me.”

  Though the Duke of Ayr was quite angry as he spoke, Clegg found that he was actually amused by it. He’d called Ambrose a bully and a buffoon, and he was right on both accounts. But he needed to stall for time until Axel and his guard arrived, even though he very much wanted to kick both Ambrose and his son right in their arses and chase them from his solar. It was clear that they were a pair of jackals.

  He was coming to pity Magnus and Diantha a great deal.

  “In the first place, there are many women here at the Ludus Caledonia,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm. “What makes you think this particular woman is here? And why would she even be here? I do not know anyone named Diantha de Mora.”

  “I saw her,” Conan blurted out. “She was chasing a child and I saw her go intae one of the cottages.”

  “And you know this for certain?”

  “We can go tae the cottage tae confirm it.”

  Clegg shook his head. “I will not go into the warriors’ village and wake up one of my warriors just because you are chasing ghosts,” he said. “As I said, we have many women at the Ludus Caledonia. Mayhap this woman merely looked like the one you are looking for.”

  Conan was losing his temper. “It was her,” he insisted. “She ran away more than two weeks ago, and we have been searching for her ever since. Now I suspect that she has been here all along. She is my betrothed and I want her back, do ye hear?”

  Clegg remained calm in the face of a very angry young man. But what he said next was going to make him even angrier.

  “Prove it.”

  Confusion washed over Conan’s features. “Prove what?”

  “That she is your betrothed.”

  Conan’s mouth opened in outrage as Ambrose intervened. “Of course we can prove it,” he said. “Bring her tae me. I will tell ye that the woman is Diantha de Mora.”

  Clegg looked at the man. “You could say that about any woman I brought to you,” he said. “I will not take your word for it.”

  Ambrose was aghast. “Ye would doubt the word of a duke?”

  “I would doubt the word of a man who has clearly come to the Ludus Caledonia for something other than entertainment.”

  When Ambrose geared up for a nasty retort, Clegg pounded a big fist on his desk, shaking the table.

  “Shut your lips and listen well,” he snarled in an uncharacteristic show of nastiness. “When you first came here, it was to purchase the Eagle’s contract and I denied you. Now, you have allegedly found a woman who you say has run away from you, a woman you tell me is your son’s betrothed. You’ve done nothing but make demands of me and change your story since your arrival, so I would not believe anything out of your mouth. Bring the woman’s father to tell me that she is, indeed, his daughter and that she is betrothed to your son and I shall believe him. But you, my lord, I do not believe at all. You have all the credibility of a viper in the Garden of Eden, and I want you out of the Ludus Caledonia before I do something you will regret. Is this in any way unclear?”

  Both Ambrose and Conan were looking at Clegg as if the man had committed an unforgivable offense. In their minds, he had. He had denied their wants. They looked at each other, sputtering in outrage, wanting to shout at Clegg until their demands were met but they could both see that it wasn’t going to happen.

  Clegg had take
n a stand.

  It had not gone in their favor.

  Conan started to speak, but Ambrose stopped him.

  “Very well,” Ambrose said, quivering with anger. “We shall leave. But this isna over, de Lave. I shall return, and when I do, ye will be very sorry ye dinna cooperate. This I vow.”

  They were moving for the chamber door, Ambrose dragging Conan, who very much wanted to continue the argument. Just as they reached the door, Axel appeared with several guards. Since Axel was a very large and very intimidating man, Ambrose passed him a long look as he slid past him, pulling Conan along.

  Clegg moved away from his table, going to the chamber door and watching his Praetorian escort Ambrose and Conan out of Caelian Hill and to the area where their carriage was stationed in the darkness. Even when they disappeared into the night, he did not breathe a sigh of relief.

  He knew this wasn’t over.

  “Go after my guard and tell them not to leave that contingent until their carriage is clear of the Cal,” he said to Axel. “Make sure they leave.”

  Axel nodded, following the guard out into the misting night. Even though Clegg knew his orders would be carried out, he knew without a doubt that he hadn’t seen the last of Ambrose, Duke of Ayr, and his son, Conan.

  Nay…he hadn’t seen the last of them at all.

  Slipping out of the keep, Clegg headed for the warriors’ village.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Why were ye chasing after Nikki?” Magnus asked, trying not to become irate. “I told ye tae stay out of sight, yet ye ran after the boy? Outside?”

  Diantha’s head was lowered as Magnus scolded her, and rightfully so. They were back in their cottage after he’d come to retrieve her, but he was stewing about the fact that she’d gone outside of the cottage after he’d told her not to. Lor had let it slip that he’d had to chase both her and his son down.

  Now Diantha was facing Magnus’s wrath.

  She braced herself.

  “I could not let him run away,” she said, trying to explain. “I was sleeping with him while Isabail was helping Lucia with the twins. They’re both sick, you know. They have runny noses and with Bane at the arena, Isabail went to help Lucia.”