Highland Champion (15 page)

Keira thought that odd but kept her attention fixed upon the matter at hand—convincing Liam that they should go and speak to Malcolm. “For the sake of all these men and the others who will soon join us, I think we should try to get to Malcolm. He may not be a warrior, but he was trained as a knight. He might have seen something over these last few months, some weakness ye can use against Rauf.”

That was a truth Liam could not argue with, although he dearly wished he could. The fact that Sigimor thought it a good idea only made arguing more impossible. Liam knew his cousin would never allow a woman to put herself at too great a risk. That Sigimor was agreeing with Keira meant that the man felt that the risk of her going was probably not that great or that it was worth it for all they might gain. Liam sincerely hoped it was the former.

“When it is full dark, we will give it a try,” he said, unable to keep his reluctance out of his voice. “For now, we shall busy ourselves building a wee shearling to shelter under.”

“I dinnae mind sleeping outside, Liam,” Keira said.

“I dinnae want ye sleeping in the midst of an army. Verra soon there will be men
here we dinnae ken weel.”

Considering how many of her cousins and his were there, Keira did not think that would be such a great problem, but she said nothing. The way Liam scowled at the amusement Sigimor did nothing to hide told her that silence was probably best for the moment. In truth, she would prefer a little shelter, even one of sticks and mud, just in case the weather turned against them. She did not mind sleeping outside, but she was not fond of it when she was cold and wet.

In the end, they had a lot of help. Keira got the feeling that her kinsmen and his thought it a good idea, despite how they teased Liam. A messenger arriving from Sir Ian MacLean saying he would be arriving with his men in a few hours and another from the other laird’s son offering himself and ten men apparently prompted so much assistance. When Keira saw the results, she decided not to complain about their overprotective attitudes. The walls were a mix of stone and branch, and the roof was of oiled cloth. It was only high enough for her to sit up in, but it would certainly protect her from all but the fiercest of storms. With another oiled cloth hung over the opening, she and Liam would actually have some small measure of privacy.

It was not until well after they had supped that Liam decided it was dark enough to attempt a visit to Malcolm. He yet again offered his opinion that no one could be certain Malcolm could still be trusted, even if he was still alive, but no one heeded him. Reluctantly allowing Keira to lead the way, they started toward the village.

Liam was so busy looking for any signs of trouble, he did not pay much heed to the path Keira led him along. It was not until he heard her give a soft, strangled cry that he realized they had come within sight of Ardgleann keep. Cursing softly, he hurried over to take her in his arms. She clung to him, pressing her face against his chest, and wept.

Looking at the keep, Liam cursed again. Torches upon the walls cast light upon Rauf’s gruesome battle trophies. The bodies looked even more horrifying than they had when he had seen them in the light of day. That Keira, a softhearted woman and a healer, should be subjected to such ugly brutality was reason enough to kill Rauf Moubray.

“I should ne’er have left them,” Keira said in a hoarse, unsteady voice.

“Dinnae be a fool, love,” he said, pushing aside his sympathy for her grief and forcing himself to sound firm. “If ye had stayed, ye would probably be just another bead strung upon that gruesome necklace.”

Keira moaned and nearly threw herself out of his arms. “I am going to be sick.”

That did not surprise Liam. He had come very close to it himself. Ignoring her demands for him to go away, he supported her as she retched. When she was done, he tugged her back into the shelter of the wood, away from the sight of Ardgleann. It troubled him when she sat silent, trembling faintly as he bathed her face with water from the wineskin she carried. He then forced her to rinse her mouth with a few sips from the wine he carried in his. He was now glad he had made them carry such things, even though they were going only a short way, simply because he always prepared for the worst. Still not sure this trip to Malcolm was a good idea, he had wanted to be ready to make a run for their lives, one that would, by necessity, have been in the opposite direction of their camp and kinsmen.

Sitting beside her, he put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. “I hadnae wanted ye to see that.”

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Keira said, “That is why Ewan and my
brothers looked so grim when they returned from seeing Ardgleann, isnae it?” She felt him nod, his cheek rubbing against her hair with the movement. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“To terrify the ones still living.”

“Is that why ye think Malcolm is dead? Do ye think he is up there?”

“I think those are the ones who tried to defend their laird and their home.”

“Did none of them survive?”

“Some. Sir Ian said there are some people from Ardgleann sheltering on his lands. A few of the fighting men, who will come with him, and some of those who worked and lived within the keep. That is how we ken that all the bolt-holes are sealed. Four men ran for one only to find some of Rauf’s men guarding it. Only two escaped to try for another. One lass hid herself away for nearly three days until she was able to sneak away. She told Sir Ian and others how Rauf had ordered all of them sealed tight.”

Keira looked in the direction of the keep, knowing she would see that horror for the rest of her life. For a moment, she wanted to turn around and go somewhere, anywhere else, and never return, but she quickly shook that cowardly thought aside. Duncan had failed her in many ways, but she would not fail him. Nor would she fail the people who were suffering under the rule of that beast who called himself Rauf Moubray. She might have to depend upon men to actually rid Ardgleann of Rauf, but she would see to it that it was restored to all it had once been. There would probably always be ghosts there, but she would learn to live with them.

“We will kill him, aye?” she asked as she stood up and brushed off her skirts.

“Aye, love,” replied Liam. “We will kill him.”

“Good. Now, let us go and talk to Malcolm.” As she started on her way again, she ignored Liam’s muttered complaints.

“Are ye sure the mon will still be there? Or willing to help?”

Liam pretended not to hear Keira’s sigh as he crept along behind her. He knew he was repeating himself, but he could not fully banish a growing unease. A small voice in his head kept reminding him that she had not known these people very long and that they had been under Rauf’s boot for months. She was wagering her life on what could be no more than a brief acquaintance with the man. The village also gave him a bad feeling. Lucas was right; it was far too quiet. E’en though it was now late, he did not think it should be so still, so silent and dark. Aside from his fear for her life, he was concerned that if she saw many more signs of Rauf’s cruelty, she would be weighted down with a guilt he could not talk her out of.

“He will be here,” she whispered back, “if he is still alive, and he
will
help.”

Keira understood Liam’s concerns. She shared them. These people had suffered for several months beneath the rule of a man more cruel than she had imagined. She could not know how cowed they were. She could not even be sure Malcolm was still alive. The man was a survivor, but Rauf might have learned of Malcolm’s true heritage, and could easily have seen him as a threat. Rauf made a quick end to any threat. She truly had not needed to see such gruesome evidence to know that fact. Her reassurances to Liam were said as much to calm herself as to still his very reasonable concerns.

She crept up to the small door hidden cleverly by a rough stone chimney and thick ivy. Silently praying that she was not leading both of them to their deaths, Keira rapped upon the door using the series of knocks Malcolm had taught her. Lacking Duncan’s optimism, Malcolm had quickly taken her aside when she had arrived at Ardgleann and had shown her this secret entrance. It had aided her when she had fled Rauf, and she hoped it could provide help now.

As the door slowly opened, Keira felt Liam move up close behind her. She did not need to look to know he had his sword at the ready. He took his duty to protect her very seriously. That ought to make ye happy, she scolded herself as she studied the shadowed man peering at her from around the edge of the door.

“Malcolm?” she whispered, not sure this somewhat timid man could really be her friend.

“M’lady? ’Tis really ye? Sweet Mary, we all thought ye had died!” He started to fling open the door, then abruptly stopped when he saw Liam behind her. “Who stands with ye?”

The hard, angry suspicion in Malcolm’s voice stung a little, but Keira pushed aside her hurt. She had left these people at the mercy of Rauf for months, had not even tried to send word that she had survived. He did not know her well enough to know she would never betray him or the rest of the people of Ardgleann.

“My new husband—” she started to reply.

“Ye have married again?”

“’Twas, weel, unexpected.”

Liam edged forward slightly. “The light falling from your open door and all this whispering could draw attention we dinnae need. Best we sort this all out inside.”

“Of course, I am but stunned into stupidity,” Malcolm said. “Come in.”

Ushering Keira in before him, Liam carefully looked around what appeared to be a very dimly lit workshop of some sort. When Malcolm lit another candle, Liam realized
the shapes he had seen were pieces of finely carved wood and beautifully marked metal, a few looking very much like silver. Even the wooden goblets were of a quality no man would be ashamed to set upon his table.

He said nothing as the man led them to a smaller room, waving them toward benches flanking a table. Liam sat next to Keira and watched Malcolm gather three goblets and a jug. There was a strange awkwardness to the way the man held the jug in his right hand. As Malcolm set it down on the table, Liam inwardly cursed. The man’s hand was scarred, his fingers crooked.

“Oh, sweet heaven,” Keira cried. “What happened to your hand, Malcolm?” She reached out to touch the gnarled hand Malcolm rested on the table, but he allowed her only a fleeting touch. It was enough, however, to tell her that he was probably in constant pain from broken bones that had healed badly.

“Rauf Moubray happened,” Malcolm replied as he poured them all some ale.

“He kens who ye are?”

“Nay, I dinnae think so, or I would be dead. He didnae do this because of who I am. He did this because I tried to stop him from taking my wife.”

“Och, nay. Nay. Not Joan.”

“Aye, my Joan. She is up at the keep. They took many of the lasses up there, e’en wee Meggie, the cooper’s daughter, who is barely thirteen.”

Keira covered her face with her hands. Her cowardice had cost the people of Ardgleann far more dearly than she could have imagined. She felt Liam gently rub her back, but that touch gave her little comfort. Forcing herself not to give in to the urge to weep, she looked at Malcolm.

“I am so sorry. I should have returned sooner.”

“To do what? Die? Be raped by those brutes? Ye were sorely injured when I last saw ye. I suspect it took ye a while to heal.” Malcolm shook his head. “Nay, lass, ye have naught to be sorry for.”

“Nay? Whilst I hid safely at the monastery, ye lost your wife and your livelihood.” She briefly touched his injured hand again. “I ken how much ye loved your work.”

“Still do.”

“Ye can still carve and all with this hand?”

“Och, nay, but it doesnae matter. Ye see, m’lady, I hide it weel for some still think it the mark of the devil, but, weel, I favor my left hand. Always have.” He smiled fleetingly and then sighed. “I would let the bastard take my carving hand if it would give me back my Joan. I dinnae care what the men have taken from her, if ye ken my meaning, save that it will hurt her in body and soul. I just want her back. Without her, I cannae see the beauty in the wood or metals, cannae bring it out.”

“We will get her and the others back,” Liam said, the man’s sharp look telling him that Malcolm had heard the vow weighting every word.

“Ye have fighting men with ye?” Malcolm asked.

“Some and more to come.”

“Rauf and his men are good.”

“We are better.” Liam smiled. “We also have men with us who could steal the shroud off a corpse e’en as the dead mon’s kinsmen lower him into the grave. And get clean away.”

“I am nay sure that is something to be so proud of,” Keira murmured.

“Mayhap not,” agreed Liam, “but ’tis useful.”

“And then ye will be our laird?”

“Keira tells me that ye are the true heir although ye be bastard born.”

“I dinnae want to be the laird. Ne’er have. Told m’lady’s father the same when he asked. I just want to be with my Joan and search for the beauty in the woods and the metals. Nay, if ye rid us of Rauf Moubray, ye are more than welcome to be our laird. Duncan kenned that I didnae want that duty. ’Tis one reason he sought a wife. Aye, and we were all willing to accept her as our laird if aught happened to Duncan.”

“But a mon as the laird would be so much better, of course,” muttered Keira, and then she almost smiled when both men eyed her warily.

“Weel, aye, if only to keep others from trying to claim Ardgleann,” said Malcolm. “Just who
are
ye?” he asked Liam.

“Oh, sweet heavens, I ne’er introduced ye to each other, did I?” Keira shook her head. “Malcolm, this is Sir Liam Cameron of Dubheidland, my husband, as I said. Liam, this is Malcolm MacKail, Duncan’s half-brother, though ’tis evident he still wishes to keep that a secret from most people.” As the two men nodded to each other, she continued, “He is also kin to the MacFingals of Scarglas.” She briefly smiled at Malcolm’s look of confusion. “They are Camerons, too, but the old laird had a falling out with his kinsmen and gave himself a new name. It is still being argued over.”

“A tale I shall wish to hear when this trouble ends. Who are the reivers?”

“The MacFingals,” Liam replied. “They are fine fighters as weel, mayhap e’en better than my kinsmen, though I risk a lot in saying so. Most of them have spent near all their lives surrounded by men eager to kill them.”

“And yet they still live.”

“Exactly.”

“How many fighting men do ye have with ye?”

“Forty, give or take a few. Camerons, MacFingals, MacEnroys and a few of their allies, and some Murrays.”

“And Kester and Sir Archie,” said Keira. “Ye forgot them.”

Liam exchanged a brief look with Malcolm, and the man nearly smiled, revealing that he understood there was a good reason Liam had not included them in his tally of fighting men. “Dinnae fear, lass; I will yet think of a way to make use of them, one that willnae hurt their pride and yet give them a goodly chance of surviving the battle.”

Keira grimaced. Kester and Archie had courage and honor, but Liam was right to exclude from his count of good fighting men. Kester was showing improvement and revealing some skills that could make him a valuable asset in the future, but he was still a beardless boy who spent far too much time sprawled on the ground. And poor Sir Archie, she thought with a sigh. He had skill and knowledge, but unless she could find a way to help him see the world as more than a blur, he would be as great a threat to his allies as to his enemies.

“What do ye need from me?” asked Malcolm.

“Information,” replied Liam, and he immediately began to ask Malcolm about the defense of Ardgleann and the strength of Rauf’s forces.

As she listened to the men, Keira felt her fear stir to life, and she struggled to bury it again. In the weeks since he had taken hold of Ardgleann, Rauf Moubray had strengthened its defenses. The man obviously had a keen eye for any weakness that could
be made use of by an enemy. It did not surprise her that the first thing Rauf had done was seal off all the hidden entrances to the keep. The only way into Ardgleann still appeared to be over the high walls or straight through the gates. Such battles would cost an attacker dearly in men, dead and wounded. Keira wanted to put a stop to it all, but she knew that was impossible.

Her sense of guilt was like some live thing writhing inside her. If she had come sooner, Rauf would not have been so securely settled within the walls of Ardgleann, poor Malcolm would not be maimed, and the women of Ardgleann would not be suffering so grievously. No matter how many reasons she gave herself, it was mostly fear that had kept her hiding at the monastery.

In an attempt to push aside the bitter taste of failure and thoughts of her own cowardice, she studied Malcolm’s hand and then reached for it. He started slightly, but Liam held his attention. Keira knew Duncan had told Malcolm of her gifts, but she suspected Malcolm had nurtured doubts, perhaps even some fear. For now, however, the man seemed willing to allow her to do whatever she wished, and Keira took quick advantage of it.

It was not until she released Malcolm’s hand and opened her eyes that Keira realized the men had ceased talking. Malcolm was staring at her in wide-eyed astonishment, but she saw no sign of fear or horror. Liam, however, had his hand on the man’s forearm, holding it firmly in place. She had been so lost in Malcolm’s pain and her struggles to discern the extent of his injuries, she had not even noticed that at some point, he had obviously made an attempt to pull free of her grip.

“Do ye have any bread, honey, and cider?” Liam asked Malcolm when he saw Keira sway slightly and grip the edge of the table to steady herself.

“Aye.” Malcolm started to stand up, but liam was already on his feet, and he held him in his seat with one hand upon his shoulder.

“Nay. ’Tis best if ye stay seated. Tell me where it is.”

Liam quickly served Keira the bread, honey, and cider, silently urging Malcolm to have some as well. He ignored the man as he urged Keira to concentrate, whispering to her as he helped her to picture cool water washing away the pain now resting in her hand. Then he sat down and, ignoring her weak protests, took her onto his lap and held her close. He smiled faintly when in less than a minute, she slumped against him, sleeping deeply.

“Duncan was right,” Malcolm said in a soft voice as he stared at his hand. “She has the touch. Duncan was so pleased by that.”

“Aye.” Liam absently kissed the top of Keira’s head. “She doesnae often use it so fully. It costs her dearly to do so, as ye can see.” He looked at Malcolm’s hand. “Ye should be eased of most of your pain for a day or more. ’Tis nay healed, ye understand.”

“I ken it, but a respite from the pain, nay matter how short-lived it is, is gift enough.”

“When she wakes, here or later at camp, she will probably tell ye if there is any hope of mending it, e’en if only a wee bit.”

“She was seeing the damage beneath the skin, wasnae she?”

“Aye, in a way I doubt I will e’er understand. Just why was Duncan so pleased with her gift?” Liam wondered if this man knew the whole ugly story of Keira’s failed marriage.

“He hoped she could heal him.”

“He was ill? She has ne’er said so.”

Seeing that he and Keira had finished the cider, Malcolm poured Liam and himself some more ale. “Duncan’s first interest in wedding the lass was to gain a strong alliance with her clan for he kenned she would be able to call them to her side if needed. When she told him of her gifts, he was e’en more eager to make her his wife as he hoped that some day, she could cure him.” Malcolm grimaced and took a deep drink of ale before he said, “He had a weakness in his male parts.”

Liam stared at the man for a moment. “Ye ken the whole truth, dinnae ye?”

“That the marriage was ne’er consummated? Aye, but the trouble was ne’er with his body. It was in his mind, I think. Mayhap in his heart.”

“He wasnae impotent. She told me how he behaved each time he tried to bed her. Was he mad?”

“Aye and nay. He had desires, felt a deep lusting for the lass, but he couldnae act upon it. I blame his parents. Aye, his mother mostly, but his father was near as bad. I willnae trouble ye with all they did to the lad, the many ways they worked to breed the troubles he suffered from, but they succeeded in making him unable to bed a lass. They and that vile priest they kept at Ardgleann for many years. Lust was sin, filth, a sure road to the flaming pits of hell, and so many other sad things, including beatings and other hard punishments. The poor lad couldnae feel a fine, healthy lusting without being tormented, made nauseous e’en. If the marriage had lasted longer, it may have worked. After all, marriage and the begetting of children is no sin, aye? But the fates decided it wasnae to be.”