FLAME ACROSS THE HIGHLANDS (33 page)

Chapter Forty-Three

Ian's breath caught in his throat as he stared at Brianna.  Had he gone mad?  Was she
here
?  He dared not blink  for fear she might vanish into the misty haze that enshrouded the island. "Brie?"  Realization that she was real was like an elixir, giving him  renewed strength.  He had cursed this barren isle and the fate that had brought him here, now he blessed it. "Brianna?"

She looked like a kelpie standing there in the early morning sunlight, her hair hanging down her back in glistening, flaming strands.  Reverently
, he worshipped her with his eyes, the slim curve of her neck, her profile with the haughty uptilt of her nose, the soft swell of her breasts as they strained against the finely woven woolen of her gown.

"Blessed Saint Michael, I thought ye were....."  Brianna's throat went dry as she stared at him, mesmerized by the potency of his gaze.  In his face she read her own longing and her heart gave a crazy leap as he moved towards her.  Then he was sweeping her up in his arms in an embrace that crushed the breath
from her, but she didn't care. For the moment nothing mattered except that somehow she was being given a second chance at happiness.  Perhaps then Staffa was magical after all. It had given her back her love.

"When I saw you go over the side, when I couldn't find you I thought....." He buried his face in her hair, content for the moment just to hold her.

"I died a hundred times thinking....." She clung to him fiercely. Forgetting for a moment that they were not alone on the isle, she slipped her hands inside the neck of his shirt, shuddering at the warmth of his skin.  She lifted her face for Ian's kiss but the rasping sound of indrawn breath behind her reminded Brianna of the other woman's presence.

"He isna my Morgan, though he is just as tall, just as dark of hair," she was whispering, a look of consternation still etched on he face.  "Who is he?"
                           

"Who is she?" Ian asked, eyeing the woman warily, in much the same manner Brianna had
affected upon first seeing her.  He allowed his eyes to drop to the slightly tattered garments, the hair spilling over the woman's shoulders in wild disarray.  Quickly, he crossed himself.

"I know what ye are thinking, but she's not.  She's just a poor tortured lassie who has faced some sort of tragedy." Pulling free of Ian's arms, Brianna hovered over
Staffa's lady as if to give credence to her words. "She did in fact save my life and for that I am grateful."

Ian breathed a deep sigh.  "Then if that is true, if I can thank her for finding you here, my love, then I am deeply grateful.  He bo
wed gallantly.  "Ian Mac Niall of the Clan Campbell at your service."

"
Campbell!"  She gasped the name like an omen of evil, then taking to her heels, fled the cave as if she'd just come face to face with the very devil himself.

"Catch her, Ian!  Don't let her go!"  Brianna followed Ian in pursuit of frightened woman, who led them a merry chase  up and down over slippery rocks, across a small burn indented in the rock, past the singing cave.  Only when she stumbled and fell was Ian able to catch up with her.  Grabbing her by the leg
, he fell to the ground, tangled in her arms and legs.

"Nae!  Nae!  Dunna kill me!  Dunna kill me!"  Her shrieks were pitiful, frightened cries.  By her terror it was obvious that she really did think he meant her harm.

"Kill you?  By Saint Michael, I swear that I will not, only cease your floundering, lass."  Such a pathetic creature, he thought.  Seemingly mad.  Aye, daft she was.  "I swear I will show you naught but kindness, for I owe you a debt of gratitude for the kindness you have shown my dear lassie."

"Ye willna hurt me?"

"Nae!"  To prove his good intentions he loosened his hold on her.  "There ye see.  You have nothing to be afraid of."

Shakily she got to her knees.  "I...I thought for a moment that ye were the man I love
d.  I thought ye were
Morgan
. Ye look so like him."

"
Morgan
?"  Ian had not taken heed of the name before, but now he did, in stunned amazement.  "Morgan did you say?  I had a cousin of that name." A coincidence? Another named Morgan?  Remembering her stark terror at the name Campbell, he doubted it.  What then did this woman know of Duncan's son?  His eyes blazed a question.  "Who are you?"

"Just a woman who seeks peace and solitude," she answered evasively.  Her eyes darted this way and that, nervously looking for a means of escape and finding none.  "Please, let me be.  I havena done harm to anyone."

"Not even Morgan?"  He eyed her suspiciously.

"Least of all him.  I loved him wi' all my heart.  I died of grief when he was taken from me."  Tears welled up in the woman's blue eyes.  "I hae suffered much these years.  Memories I seek to forget in my wandering."

"Ian, dunna torment her so.  Canna ye not see she is enduring a broken heart, just as mine would hae been broken had I not found ye again."  Brianna knelt down to the woman, putting her arm around the frail shoulders.  '

"She speaks of Morgan being taken away, Brianna.  As if she knows something of his fate.  He was of my blood.  Therefore I have to know what happened the night he was killed, if she is privy to that information."  He turned to the woman.  "Are you?  Do you know who struck him down so cruelly?  He was 
foully murdered!  Stabbed from behind.  By whom?  And why?"

"I dunna ken!  I dunna ken!"  Though she shouted it out, the look on her face nullified her words.  She
did
know, but was terrified to speak of it.

"You do!  Don't lie to me!"

"I dunna want to remember."  Putting her hands to her ears she sought to block his questions out but Ian gently stripped her hands away.

"An ocean of blood has been shed because of that day.  I have to know the truth."  Ian's eyes compelled her to tell him.  "Was it a
MacQuarie
?"

"
MacQuarie?"  She spoke the name  softly, caressing it with her tongue. "MacQuarie.  'Tis a long time since I heard that name.  It is dear to my ears."  For just a moment she seemed to take refuge in a flight of fantasy, as if remembering long ago days, a time when she had been happy.

And all the while Brianna had a terrible premonition of what was to come.  The woman's nose, the tilt of her chin looked alarmingly familiar.  Just as she had been haunted by Robbie's visage in the back of her mind when first she'd laid eyes on him, so was she haunted now.  Taking a deep breath she called out softly, "
Mary
!" The woman reacted to the name, turning her head, tilting up her chin, but then looked away.

It had to be!  There was no other
explanation.  Brianna's eyes met Ian's as they both came to the same conclusion.  The pieces of a long-ago puzzle were slowly being fitted into place and this woman was the integral fragment.  Brianna remembered all the stories she had heard about her aunt's disappearance so long ago and knew instinctively the identity of Staffa's mad woman.  Blessed Saints!  It was her father's sister.

"Are ye Mary of the Clan MacQuarie?" Brianna asked gently
, shaking the woman by the shoulders. "Please. If ye are then ye are my kin, for I too am of that Clan.  Are ye Mary, sister to Lachlan MacQuarie?  Chieftain of the Clan?"

This time the woman did not deny it.  Slowly she nodded.  "Aye!"

By all that was holy, Brianna thought, she had just been reunited with her Aunt Mary.  Mary MacQuarie was alive!"             

Chapter Forty-Four

Mary's identity was confirmed by her own lips and by the stories she revealed to Brianna of earlier days when there had been less strife in the Highlands.  Then she had been the young, lovely sister of the MacQuarie's Chieftain, much sought after by all the young and handsome laddies.  Her heart had been stolen , however, at first sight of Morgan Campbell's smile even though he was son of the laird who was boldly trying to usurp her brother's long-held lands.

"Ye look much like him," she sighed, staring unsmilingly at Ian.  "Except around the eyes.  His were more green than blue and they were deep set and often brooding.  He was just a mite shorter and his hair was tightly curled. A bold, aggressive laddie."  Crumpling up the end of her gown she dabbed at the corners of her eyes.  "I loved him more than words can e'er say!  There was a gentleness about him that he did not show to
others. Only to me. We might hae been happy if not for
him
."  A dark cloud of anger passed before her eyes as she was reminded.  "And all the while we thought he was our friend, that he would keep our secret.  I can ne're forgi'e him for what he did."

"He?  Who?"

As quickly as she  had seemed to open up to them, she now withdrew into her silence again, rattling on and on about her childhood but making no more mention of Morgan or the man who had betrayed him. "At one time our Father owned the whole of Mull as well as Ulva.  Ach, it was grand to hae no cares, just to wile away the time in play like two wee brownies!" It was as if she  could not dare let her mind go beyond the happy times.  She seemingly chose now to forget those events that led up to that moment when she forever lost the man she loved.  Brianna's woman's heart understood but Ian did not.  He  stubbornly insisted on pushing the matter, determined to find out the culprit.

"Tell me who killed my cousin!"  Ian's gruff demanding voice at last got through the shroud that Mary had erected around herself.  "Was it...was it a
MacQuarie
." 

Brianna stiffened at his question.  So, in spite of everything he had said
, he still held a sliver of suspicion.  Angrily she frowned at him, holding her breath before Mary MacQuarie answered.

"Nae!
No' a Macquarie. It was a
Campbell
!"

"A
Campbell?"  There was a look of disbelief on Ian's face. "Nae. A mon would not kill one of his own."

"Hush, Ian, let her tell the story.  Dinna goad her into saying what ye want just to soothe yer own family pride."  Brianna patte
d Mary's hand. "Go on, hinny. How did yer Morgan die?"

"He was killed by a mon who was supposed
to be his friend. And mine!  But...I didn't know that he was but pretending.  He didn't want me to be happy with my love because he...he wanted me for himself."  She shuddered as she remembered.  "He wanted to dishonor me. Wanted me to be his mistress, for he said no MacQuarie was good enough for a Campbell to wed.  He told me after the deed was done.  He..he said I...I  was...was a bonnie lass and....."

It was as if a damn had burst, as if once beginning the story she could not cease.  The entire story was revealed in a flood of tears.  Mary revealed that she was in love with Morgan of Clan Campbell just as he was with her, though a marriage between them had been hotly denied, by Lachlan and by
Duncan.  The two young lovers had put their fate in the hands of he whom they had trusted, little realizing he was fanning the turmoil between the clans to get his own way.  Traitorously he had convinced Duncan Campbell to betroth his son to another clan's lassie. In desperation the two young lovers had planned to run away together, to set sail for Ireland and there live in exile.

In hushed tones Mary sobbed out the story, of how they had met clandestinely. It was a story of deep love and devotion, yet there was another story to tell as well, one of a more gruesome and malicious twist, of
deceit, danger and murder.  Instead of finding her love waiting for her, she was met by their betrayer.

"When Morgan came
,
he
revealed his evil nature to us both and it was then...then..."  She whimpered out the story as it passed  vividly before her eyes .  Brianna could visualize it too, could see the ominous shadow awaiting.

"You saw him kill Morgan?"  Brianna asked, gently so as not to add to Mary's grief.

"Aye!"  Teardrops ran in rivulets down her cheeks.  She looked so desolate that Brianna's heart was squeezed with her pain.  For a moment she considered putting an end to her aunt's agony by telling her to end the tale, but Mary continued talking without prompting.

Mary choked out the story of witnessing the man she loved struck down before her eyes. Her voice was shrill, her eyes wild as she said, "Morgan hae care!  He's drawn his  sword!  Ach, dear God he's stabbed him!  The blood!  It's everywhere.  My darlin's
blood pouring over the ground. I must save him. Oh, God, my hands are covered with his blood."

Brianna put her arms around the distraught
older woman, hugging her close. "It's all right, Aunt Mary."  No, it would never be all right.  Had it been Ian so callously slain, she knew she would have been just as upset. 

Mary pushed Brianna away with surprising strength, caught up now in the enfolding of her torturous nightmare.  Her eyes w
ere wild. "He's coming after me!  Staring with such a terrible grin splitting his face.  I'll hae ye now, he says.  He's pushing me down, holding the sword to my throat. But I canna!  I willna!"

Mary was sobbing uncontrollably now but somehow Brianna sensed that what  had  been revealed today was healing to the poor woman's wou
nded soul.  Softly she asked, "Did he harm you?"

"Aye! In the most brutal of ways.  Tearing at my gown, battering my face, shaming me before my love as he lay dying."  Mary closed her eyes that were awash with bitter
tears.  "As soon as I could I got to my feet and ran away.   I...I brought help, but when I came back wi' a fishermon  my Morgan was gone.  God had taken him."

The shock of what had happened at first took away Mary's memory and she had wandered about for a very long time.  Then she had remembered bits and snatches of that terrible night, fearing the man who had done the deed, the man who had killed Morgan out of spiteful jealousy
and forced himself upon her. 

"My fault!  I shouldna hae loved him so desperately.  I shouldna hae teased
him so to take me away wi' him. If I hadna he might still be alive..." Mary closed her eyes, hugging herself as she rocked to and fro.

"Who was it? Who killed Morgan and treated you in such a despicable manner. Tell me I say!"  Ian trembled his rage, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to maintain control of his temper. "Who?"

"His...his name was...was
Perth
!"

"
Perth?"  Ian and Brianna echoed the name at the same time. Perth, the treacherous cur who had been Brianna's tormentor in the Campbell hall.

"
Perth killed Morgan and blamed the deed on Duncan's enemies.  The MacQuaries.  And we all believed him." Ian was incensed.  "I should kill him for what he has done!"

Brianna sighed wearily.  "It wouldna bring back the dead.  It would just stain yer hands wi' blood.  But if we e'er get off this isle we'll see him brought to justice at one of the
moothills
.  It was there in a level circle surrounded by higher ground that the brieve and his council held their meetings to administer justice. "Perth!" Brianna spat the name.

Ian spent his anger
in a sputter of cursing, then suddenly ceased his ranting as he became fully aware of the poor pathetic woman who had herself been gravely wronged. "Why did ye not come home to yer kin?" he asked, bending down to lay a hand on the sobbing woman's head.  Yer clan?"

"
Lachlan would no' hae taken me back.  He said as much. Told me that if I disobeyed him I was no longer a member of the clan."  Her tortured soul was in her eyes. "And I had been shamed.  I couldna bear even thinking about it.  I was no' myself.  Immersed in my grief as I was I wanted to be alone."

"But you should have named Morgan's killer and sought revenge.  Men died who were blameless of the deed. "

"I didna ken what Perth had said.  All I knew was that I had no place to go and so I roamed the land.  Perhaps I was trying to run away from what had happened in such a way....."

Brianna's mind raced on, fitting together the pieces.  So that was what had started all the bloodshed.  A mistake!  It had all been a ghastly misunderstanding.  The oafish ogre
Perth had maliciously murdered Morgan out of jealousy of Mary MacQuarie's love for him, then he had viciously raped her.  Hatred seethed inside her for the man and the deeds he had perpetrated.  Oh how she wished she were standing before him right now.  Her mind was aswirl with the accusations she would hurl at him.  And Duncan, how smug he had been in his hatred.  What would he say when she and Ian told him the truth?  Would he even believe them?  Would Perth be able to lie himself out of his guilt?

"Ian..."

He didn't seem to hear her, he was in a world of his own thoughts. "Dear God," Ian whispered,  "It's all clear to me now.  Morgan was not crying "MacQuarie", was not been naming his killer but calling out to the woman he loved. He had been mumbling "Mary." Such a tragic tale. All the years of feuding, of hatred and killing have all been for naught.  Perth!  Perth was the culprit."

"But will
Duncan believe us?"  Brianna asked, taking his hand so that he could not ignore her.

"Nae.  He is a stubborn old mon.  He won't believe because he prefers to believe it was the MacQuaries.  He will not want to be proven wrong.  It will be too much for his conscience to bear." The sad truth would be ignored.

Saddest of all was that the  even if he did believe, the truth wouldn't be able to bring back those who had died. MacQuaries had been killed. Campbells. The feud had been ignited and flamed.  Nothing could change that, but perhaps some good could be built amidst its ashes.

"But if we could wrest a confession from
Perth's own mouth........"

"Trick him...?"  Brianna's tho
ughts were merging with Ian's. Mary MacQuarie was the answer.  But what would it do to the woman to put her face to face with the many who had so abused her?  Was she strong enough?

"Aunt Mary....?"

"Nae!  I want no part of him.  Ye canna ask...."

"But if this is not put to right there will be many others who will die if they have not already."  Brianna trembled as she realized that she did not know her father's and newfound brother's fate.  Were they  already victims of this senseless feud?  "Please......"

"I...I will try to be brave."  Though her eyes held fear there was also hope within the deep blue depths.  It seemed the revelation of all that had happened had turned Mary's mind to more lucid reasoning.  "I...I will go. In memory of my own shattered love I will do all that I can to see that yer love survives and flourishes." In a gesture which touched Brianna's heart, Mary took first Ian's hand then Brianna's and joined them together.

"And oh how happy Father will be to see ye, Mary.  When we get off the isle...." 

"If we get off this isle."  Ian looked towards the east where a storm was brewing.

"I've got a boat hidden away  in the cave where only I can find it.  We must leave now."

Brave another storm?  Brianna felt a flash of fear.  She had nearly been parted permanently from Ian by those treacherous waters.  Did she want to chance them again?  Looking out at the sea she knew the answer immediately.  Aye!  It was the only answer to happiness and peace for all in the Highlands.  Plucking up her courage she smiled at Ian.

"Perhaps there can still be a wedding after all.  Our wedding."   That was what she wanted more than anything in the world.