A Dark Highland Magic: Hot Highlands Romance Book 4 Read online

  “I’ll tell ye myself,” Kat said. “I am Beitris MacDonald. I met ye once, long ago, when we were both lasses. Ye came to visit Finlaggan Castle. I remember ye had a pet squirrel then, too.”

  Elspeth looked at Conall. “Conall, she dares to speak to me? Will ye not cuff her hard for her arrogance?”

  Conall’s face was dark with disapproval yet Elspeth seemed oblivious to his reactions. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I dunna cuff women,” he growled.

  “Well, of that I am glad,” Elspeth said. “For when we are married, I shall not let ye cuff me for any reason.” She fed her squirrel a nut through the bars of the cage and continued to study Kat with curiosity.

  “Och, but I remember ye now!” She placed her hand on Conall’s arm and he stiffened. The candlelight caught the sparkle of her ruby rings and Conall moved his arm away from her touch.

  “Beitris MacDonald!” Elspeth cried. “Ye were that dirty, flea-bitten child who was always running around with a sword! Ye slept in the stables, with yer ragged-looking brothers, and smelled like it! I’m guessing yer clothes were probably never washed after they came off the loom.”

  “Oh, aye, that was me,” Kat said quietly. “Did Conall come to tell ye how I became his prisoner, how I slept in his bedchamber?”

  Elspeth frowned while Conall studied Kat with something akin to amusement and pride in his eyes.

  Elspeth, having been pampered and indulged all her life would never understand what it was like to sleep in a stable; she’d never understand how the filth and stink kept Kat safe and kept her from being noticed by men, until she’d started to grow into a woman. Once she’d developed curves, men didn’t care so much how ragged her clothing was or where she slept or even how she smelled. Those few who had tried to visit her in the stables in the middle of the night learned the hard way that she slept with her sword.

  “I can tell by the look on yer face that he hasn’t told ye,” Kat said, taking a sip of wine from her cup. “So I shall. I met him on the battlefield. I gave him a scar on his side.” She reached up and caressed Conall’s face and his eyes smoldered at her touch. “To match the one on his face. And yet, he’s been kind to me. Clothed me, fed me, gave me a warm fire to sleep by. Why do ye think that is? I canna reason it out.”

  Elspeth shrieked; she’d left her fingers linger within the squirrel’s reach and the creature had bitten her. “Red-furred cunt!” she cried. She pushed the cage off the table and it clattered to the floor. The hall grew hushed. Sorcha stood.

  “Elspeth, while yer in my castle ye’ll show respect, to people and to animals.”

  Elspeth laughed, a high, harsh sound echoing in the great hall. She waved her hand at a passing servant. “Clean that up, will ye? Take that squirrel and boil him in the kitchens for all I care. The food ye’ve served tonight tastes like boiled squirrel anyway.” She clutched her finger. Bright drops of blood gleamed on the pine table.

  A servant woman picked up the squirrel’s cage. “I’ll let the red-furred cunt go in the forest. That way he’ll be free of ye.”

  Conall stood. “I’m going to retire for the evening.”

  Once more Elspeth gripped his arm. Her slim, pale fingers seemed like claws. “Not before ye dance with me,” she hissed.

  “I dunna dance,” Conall said. “Ye should not expect me to have the charms and manners of a gentleman of the Edinburgh royal court, who would put up with yer obnoxious behavior. I am a Highlander, after all, born and bred for battle, and I dunna take orders from ye, Elspeth.”

  “But I ken plenty of Highlanders who love to dance!” she whined. “And I wish to dance, so ye shall dance with me. Now.”

  “Nay. Goodnight, Elspeth.” He strode from the hall.

  Kat looked at Ronald. “I think I’ll retire as well. Good night all.”

  Ronald had grown to like Kat and he followed her at a discreet distance as she left the hall so Elspeth would not know he still guarded her.

  Kat felt so dejected she lay on the bed in her blue dress, having only discarded her ghillies. ‘Twas likely Martainn, no matter how much he despised her, had not taken her request for help seriously. It was not likely he would deceive Conall to help her escape the castle. Apparently his loyalty to Conall was stronger than his hate for her. The thought of Conall married to a cruel creature such as Elspeth made her feel even worse.

  A few hours later a knock awoke her. She got up and opened the door a crack to find Martainn standing there in a plaid, which he’d hooded close over his face. Silently he handed her a plaid through the door. “Put this on and pull it low over yer face. We’ll go now, while everyone else is engaged downstairs and Conall is asleep.”

  “Can ye bring me a pair of trews and a leine?”

  “There is no time.”

  Kat took the plaid and put it on, fashioning a hood and pulling it low over her face, as he’d commanded. She put her ghillies on and stepped into the hallway, dimly lit by a single torch. “Where’s Ronald?”

  “He was only too happy to be relieved of guarding ye for the evening. He’s likely going to be well into his cups soon.”

  Martainn took her elbow firmly. They walked the corridor and down two stairwells and then he led her to a wooden doorway. He opened the door to reveal a dark passageway. “’Tis a tunnel that leads to the sea,” Martainn said. “We’d never make it unnoticed through the tower gate on horseback.”

  No one was about and Kat wondered about the tunnel and the chambers. As if he knew what she was thinking, he said, “The Macleans are not the savages ye think we are. Our clan has a history of helping others. My ancestors even helped those with plague, isolating them in this chamber here and providing food and ale.

  “After the stone mason died, the story is that the few men kept in this room had to carve their own tombstones while they awaited death. But they were not turned away to die in the forest. ‘Tis said a very devout priest was brought in who stayed in this hall and prayed for hours every day. He wore some kind of mask stuffed with sweet-smelling herbs.”

  “He was a brave man, the priest,” Kat said.

  “What do ye ken of true bravery? Yer a MacDonald. We’re not like MacDonalds, who beat and rape women. Angus has a thirst for blood. ‘Tis kent all along the coast. He takes an axe to men and women alike. ‘Twas fortunate Andrina escaped him with her life! Nor does he think anything of burning families alive in their crofts. I heard once he even ordered the doors closed on a church full of people and had it burned!”

  “I’m not like Angus. Nor were my brothers Ragnar and Lorcan. They were honorable men who never beat or raped a woman in their lives. In fact, they bravely shielded me from many a beating, taking it themselves.”

  Martainn grunted.

  “Nor did they set fire to any structure where people hid. We loathe Angus MacDonald as much as ye do.”

  “I doubt that.” Martainn grabbed her hand, making a face as if touching her was abhorrent. “I’ll not risk lighting a torch or a candle for obvious reasons. But dunna fash yerself. I ken this tunnel like the back of my hand. We’ll be through it in no time.”

  She walked behind him, grasping his hand in the utter darkness. Her heart beat fast; would he help her escape or did he have something more horrible planned?

  They came to the end of the passage and he opened another wooden door, swinging it wide. They descended two steps to the lip of a sandy shore beneath a partial roof of stone. It was a cleverly disguised launching point for small boats.

  A fierce storm raged outside, lightning cracking the skies above the sea loch and the great mountains. He guided her to a small boat. “Get in.”

  She obeyed, spying a bundle on the boat floor. Now she wondered, would he row her to the other side or dump her into the water and hold her beneath it until the breath left her body?

  Martainn pushed the boat further into the water, waded in, and jumped aboard. He began to row her across the stormy bay, lightning flashing, hard rain falling, salt spume flying. The boat was t
ossed about by the waves and Kat gripped the sides of it until her knuckles and her head ached.

  When finally they pulled up to a forested shore she said a silent prayer of thanks. Yet she felt saddened seeing the castle recede in the distance. All she could think of was Conall. She hadn’t had time to say goodbye. What an odd thought to have, as she’d merely been his prisoner. He’d treated her more kindly than he had to, and she had wanted to thank him for that. Now she wouldn’t get the chance.

  No matter. He would be married soon and he would forget her, a brief nuisance in his life. He would suffer many unpleasantries married to Elspeth.

  Martainn handed her the bundled sack from the floor of the boat. “It contains a cooked hen, cheese, bannock cakes, fruit, and bladders of ale,” he explained.

  “Thank ye Martainn.”

  “Dunna thank me. I didna do it for ye. I did it for Andrina. She needs no reminders of the MacDonald clan thrust in her face day after day.”

  He paused. “As for Elspeth MacDonald, she is a reminder too. I will continue to try to convince Conall to end his betrothal to her.” He frowned. “I dunna ken how far ye plan to travel but be wary of the borders, for any borderers ye meet will be horsed and ye’ll not outrun a horse if they plan ye harm.”

  “But I might outrun a borderer or a thief on a mule.”

  He gave her an odd look.

  “’Twas a joke, Martainn.”

  He didn’t laugh, returning to the boat. He retrieved something and threw it in the air. It was a dirk. The tip of it stuck in the ground near Kat’s feet. “I am not totally heartless,” he said. “Ye’ll need some kind of weapon. There’s a cave for shelter about two miles or so northwest. They call it the giant’s cave. Children still believe giants live in it. If yer lucky, they will not eat ye up.” He paused. “They’d probably spit ye out after the first two bites anyway.”

  Despite her situation, Kat smiled. “That was a joke, wasn’t it, Martainn?”

  She pulled the foot-long dirk from the ground as he rowed away without looking back. It was a well-crafted dirk. She headed northwest, trudging through high weeds until she reached the edge of a dark forest. Along the way she gathered tinder for a fire. She knew from hunting with her brothers how to make a fire in the wilds. She kept going northwest, studying the terrain. She passed beneath the shadow of the mountains and could understand why wee children thought giants roamed the hills and forests and lived in the caves.

  Eventually she entered a gloomy gorge and great glen. It was dark and the moon had risen. Not a sound was to be heard in the glen except the tinkling of the mountain rills and the sighing of the night wind as it caressed hill and moor. Kat knew the rose light of dawn would reveal, on the higher slopes, cobwebs of frost on the ground. Winter in the Highlands would not be an easy thing to survive, but she was determined.

  The storm had moved off. It was no longer raining but her clothes were damp. In the silvered beams of moonlight, the dramatic pass with its raw peaks was slashed by white cascading waterfalls. A winding river and loch far down at the bottom of the glen glistened. Kat walked until she reached towering ramparts of stone and found the cave Martainn had spoken of, the cave of the giants.

  She built a fire near the entrance.

  Opening the bag she carried, she ate some of the food, careful to save portions for later, and then quenched her thirst with ale. She spread her plaid on the hard ground but sleep would not come. Spying some small stones, she sat up. She made a face on the ground with the stones. When sleep came, she dreamt of a powerful warrior’s arms around her, of heated gold-hazel eyes, of the touch of a warrior’s lips against hers, possessive and passionate. But when she awoke, she was cold and alone. The fire had gone out.

  She couldn’t stay long in the cave, for Martainn would know of her whereabouts and Conall might force the information from him. She would have to move on. After another day, she gathered up her meager belongings and draped the Maclean plaid about her shoulders. She peered from the cave’s entrance at the vast glen and woods beyond. At least it was not raining. “What do you think?” she asked the smiling stone face on the floor of the cave. “Could I find someone to trade with? The well-made Maclean dirk for a bow and arrow to hunt with?”

  Chapter 13

  Conall hadn’t retired to his bedchamber. He’d talked with his father. For hours. He began to tell him he could not marry Elspeth, but Malcolm put up his hand.

  “No need to say more. The woman is cruel, intolerable, and mannerless. She demonstrates much by how she treats her pet squirrel. Marrying her might bring about the opposite effect we desire, for she incites tempers easily with her careless tongue and arrogance. I’d not see ye married to a woman such as that.”

  Conall told him of his plans for Beitris and Malcolm agreed.

  The great hall was now littered with men snoring on their pallets. Conall felt alarmed when he spied Ronald at a long table with his back to the wall, snoring; the table before him was littered with empty whisky cups. Conall approached the table and slammed his fist down. “Ronald! Wake up!”

  Ronald jumped and opened his eyes.

  “Why do you not guard Beitris’ room?”

  The room swayed. Ronald was drunk. What was he supposed to tell Conall? What had Martainn said? He couldn’t remember. He only knew truth was best when it came to Conall, regardless of what Martainn had told him. “Martainn offered to take my watch.” It was the truth. Ronald scratched his head.

  Conall’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  Ronald belched. “He thought I could use some relief, I think. I don’t recall anything else….”

  Conall dashed up the stairs to find Beitris gone. He stormed down the hall and up another set of stairs and found Martainn in his bedchamber, sleeping like a bairn.

  Conall grabbed Martainn’s leine and woke him roughly. Martainn blinked his blue eyes and scowled. “I ken why yer here. Ye ken she’s gone and good riddance to the wench.”

  Conall did not release Martainn. His grip tightened. “What did ye do with the lass?” His voice was a low growl.

  “I did our clan a favor. I took her out through the secret passageway and rowed her across the water. I didna let her go empty handed. I gave her food and ale and a dirk should she need to defend herself, which was more than she deserved.”

  “When?”

  “’Twas hours ago.”

  Conall released Martainn with a shove. “Get dressed. We’re going after her.”

  “Nay! She’s a MacDonald! She means nothing!”

  “Ye deceived me. Ye acted without my authority, without the clan’s authority. Yer going to ride with me until we find her, no matter how long it takes. We’re bringing her back.”

  “What of the sweet, sweet Elspeth, who sleeps in this vera castle and waits for yer attentions?”

  Fully awake now, Martainn recognized the barely controlled fury in Conall’s eyes, the same fury he’d shown on the battlefield countless times.

  “We’ll settle up later for yer thoughtless actions and yer thoughtless words,” Conall said. “I may ne’er forgive ye for this, Martainn. Meet me in the courtyard and dunna be long.” He strode from the room.

  Chapter 14

  The hill above the sea was steep but there was a rough zigzag path. At the top, she’d seen a small spiral of smoke. Which meant a fire. Which meant someone she might be able to barter with.

  The day was uncharacteristically bright and she shielded her eyes as she came to the top of the hill. She’d reached a moorland plateau above the sea and spied a small camp. There were two ragged men with thick, scruffy beards sitting by a fire. They wore rough woolen coats. A rabbit roasted on a spit and the smell was intoxicating.

  Kat was close enough to see that the grass ended in cliffs three hundred feet above the sea; here and there hunks of sod cantilevered over the empty space and breakers crashed on jagged rocks below.

  The men turned at the same time. “Ewen, am I havin’ visions? Is it a comely water spri
te who stands before us?”

  The other man took a gulp of ale and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Nay, Patrick. I think, being so close to the sea, maybe she’s a Maighdean Chuain. I heard mermaids are fond of taking handsome lads for lovers and they heap all sorts of riches on them: gold, silver, precious jewels, all taken from the deepest vaults of the sea. That is, if their manly cocks can satisfy them! For we all ken mermaids are whores. ‘Tis because they’re always wet!”

  Patrick chuckled. “Well she’s sure not to want ye then, Ewen, as yer face looks like a horse’s arse and yer manly parts are nothing to boast about. But she’ll take me as her lover. I’m brawny and handsome, and I have the bigger cock!”

  Kat realized how close they were to the cliff’s edge. She narrowed her eyes, the dirk within easy reach inside her sleeve. ”Ye must also ken Mermaids lure their lovers away beneath the waves and keep them prisoner, bound by long chains of gold,” she said. “There’s danger in loving a mermaid; ‘tis why fishermen always let them go. Of course, there are always fools among fishermen and other kinds of men. Some men wish to hook creatures from the sea and others wish merely to anger them. ‘Tis never wise to anger a mermaid.”

  Kat eyed the bow and arrow lying at the men’s feet. It seemed to be well made. She guessed they’d stolen it for they did not look like craftsmen. “I’ll trade ye a well-made dirk for yer bow and arrows. Or are ye men both fool enough to anger a mermaid?”

  The men looked at each other and laughed, revealing gaping holes where teeth should be. “What would a mermaid need with a bow and arrow?”

  Kat removed the dirk from her sleeve. “’Tis no ordinary dirk. It once belonged to a great Maclean warrior who is now my prisoner in the sea. I assure ye, it is well-made and has spilled the blood of many an enemy. It never stops lusting for blood and always finds its mark, as if it contains some sort of magic.”

  The men stood and approached her. “A Maclean dirk? Aye, and well, that is a Maclean plaid ye wear. Let us get a closer look at it, lass, eh?”