Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) (10 page)

Done to death by slanderous tongues.

The trees thinned as they made their way out of a woody glen and climbed to the top of another rise. In the grassy meadow that spread out below, a half dozen deer raised their speckled heads and then moved off.

Kenna shielded her eyes and looked to the west. The sun, now a disk of burnt gold, rested on a purple hill. Above her two hawks wheeled in great arcs, gliding effortlessly across the clearing sky.

She wished one of them would dive and pluck her off this hill and carry her away.

Or better yet, carry off Alexander and his questions about how she healed him.

Alexander had regained the vigor he had prior to his injury. Dogging her every step, he now wouldn’t shut up, constantly badgering her with questions. Kenna remained silent, hoping he’d give up. But the man was tenacious, to say the least.

What was worse, she couldn’t ignore the feeling she had when she’d touched him back in the cave. Once she knew he no longer suffered, her curiosity took charge. The heat racing through her that had nothing to do with the stone, nothing to do with healing him. When she touched him, something thrilling vibrated deep in her belly, resonating in the very core of her womanhood.

She wanted him. It was as simple as that. Running her hands over his skin, feeling the ripples of muscle on his arms and chest, the lines that cut downward along his abdomen. As much as her brain wanted to keep him at arm’s length, her body wanted him closer. Much closer.

“There must be something you can tell me to explain it. There must be rational explanation to whatever it was that you did to me.”

She wished she
could
explain. Hovering over him in that cave, Kenna had hoped there was reason for the way her hands warmed. She yearned to know why her mind knew instinctively where he hurt. But she couldn’t find a logical reason.

She no longer doubted the magic of the stone. And she was afraid.

Descending the hill, she could see a loch in the distance. It didn’t appear to open out into the sea. It grew narrower and then disappeared into a forest glen. She directed her steps toward the upper end.

“If it’s black magic, or white, tell me. I deserve to know if a coven of druids will be coming in the night to nail my heart to some oak tree. Where does the power come from?”

Kenna only wished she understood it herself. One thing she knew: the stone dangling between her breasts was a danger to her, and she was at a loss how to handle it. The relic was not only a gift, but also a curse. Women were tortured, hanged, and burned for the gift she now seemed to possess. She knew in her heart that she needed to use it for good, but how could she protect herself at the same time?

She had so many unanswered questions. Where did the stone come from? How did her mother come to have it? Why didn’t she warn Kenna about it? Why had no one else used it since Sine’s death? It was a fragment of something larger. But what?

And Alexander kept rattling off even more questions in her ear. But how could she answer him when she didn’t know herself? And to whom could she go for answers? And besides, was it right to burden him with such an enormous secret as this, when it would accomplish nothing but put him in danger, too?

“Talk to me, Kenna.”

She glanced up at the setting sun. “It will be dark soon. We’ll be sleeping in the open. Perhaps we should have stayed in the cave.”

“Too late to go back there.”

“Do you think Jock went back to his village?”

Alexander shook his head. “He’s out here somewhere, looking for his kinfolk.”

“I hope he finds them.”

“Do you? The first thing he’s going to tell them is that a witch is drinking Macpherson blood in a cave beneath the circle of stones.”

“Jock is just a boy repeating old ghost stories that were told to him to keep him from wandering off in the dark,” she said dismissively. “Who would believe him?”

“Probably the ignorant folk who told him the stories to begin with. The same folk who would stay far away from that place.”

“There was nothing strange about the circle of stones or that cave.” She plucked a yellow flower from a shrub as she walked. “We might catch up to him.”

“We might,” he said with a smile. “Unless you turned him into a toad and have him snug in your pocket.”

“That’s not funny.” Kenna turned to him, tired of the not-so-subtle hints and accusations. “But since you’re so afraid of me, perhaps it would be better if we parted ways right now. I can go east and you can go west.”

“Afraid?” he scoffed. “I fear nothing. And I’m certainly not afraid of you. I asked a reasonable question.”

“Oh, was there a reasonable question hidden among the hundreds you’ve been spouting for the past few hours? I don’t know how I missed it. Oh, I know: I wasn’t listening.”

“I have a right to know how my wife can heal without stitches or bandages or herbs.”

“So you have a ‘right’ to know?”

“Aye, and you’ve had plenty of chances to answer. But why do you choose not to?”

“Because
I
don’t understand what happened to you. I don’t know how I healed you.” She spoke the truth. To tell him the stone did it was no answer.

Her outburst stopped him. But only for a moment.

“I bled buckets yesterday. And you managed to stop the bleeding. And today, I felt as if someone were gutting me from the inside out. And you made the pain disappear.” He put a hand on her shoulder, turning her around to face him. “How?”

Kenna shook her head. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she figured out what it was that she possessed. They were married. But they weren’t. He’d requested annulment. It wasn’t fair to burden him into her secret.

“Your wound was not as bad as you think it was.”

He snorted.

“It just took some proper care.”

“And what is proper care?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

She shrugged. “The care that the nuns taught me at the priory. Wash the wound. Keep it clean. Try to close it to lessen the bleeding. Make the patient rest. You’re strong and healthy, Alexander. It was your own doing, not mine.”

“You didn’t stitch up my side.”

“I had no needle or thread. If I did, I would have sewn your mouth shut while I was at it.”

“Then how did you close the wound? You stopped the bleeding.”

“I pressed on it. Your body did the rest.”

“And nothing else? No spells? No magic potions?”

“If I had a potion, I would have turned
you
into a toad. And I wouldn’t keep you in my pocket.”

She started walking. Kenna was troubled by more than withholding something from him that she herself didn’t understand. She’d thought Alexander was healed last night at the fishing hut. But today, he’d been in agony. She didn’t know what she was capable of or if she was using the stone correctly. Her memories of her mother visiting the sick failed to offer anything useful. Perhaps someone in her clan might know more. Someone close to her mother.

Kenna had to go home. Her search for answers had to start there. When she knew, she’d tell him.

“You shouldn’t have mended me if you planned to leave me behind.”

Alexander was beside her, keeping pace. After the short time in the cave, he was a different man. Looking at him now, one would never guess what he’d gone through.

“No more questions about how or why or what,” she ordered.

“I’ll ask whatever I want.”

“Earlier, you told me to leave and go on to Oban without you. I accept your order.”

“Too late. That was this afternoon.”

She walked faster, but his legs were longer.

She was stuck with him for now and although she wouldn’t admit it, she was glad. It would soon be dark, and Kenna didn’t know these hills. It would be good to have him with her. She could
act
tough and fearless, but she wasn’t foolish.

She searched for a distraction that might steer Alexander’s attention away from her gift.

“Where do you think James is now?”

“On the way back from Oban, searching for us.”

“What has he done with my cousin?”

“I know what he’d
like
to do with Emily.” He sent her a sideways glance. “But I’m certain he handed her over to the MacDougall in exchange for our ship. It’s worth more than any woman.”

“Why do you try to be such a pig, when you don’t have to?”

He had the audacity to flash a smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You just said that to rile me.”

“Did I? Are you upset?”

Kenna held her breath for a couple of moments before letting it out. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Your brother Colin.”

“What about Colin?”

“He’s my favorite of all of you.”

“He’s the devil’s spawn,” he sniffed. “He’s a troublemaker to his very core. He’s the blasted fool who caused the trouble on our wedding night! By ’sblood, how could he possibly be your favorite?”

“He and his wife, Tess. I like both of them very much. He told me how they met on a deserted island. Tess fished him out of the sea after you threw him overboard off one of your precious ships. He said you were trying to drown him because he’s so much more handsome.”

“He said that now, did he?”

She nodded. In truth, Kenna had been fascinated by Tess’s tale of growing up without knowing who her parents were. Colin had been responsible for bringing her back from the Isle of May in the Firth of Forth and helping her claim her Lindsay legacy. The romance of their tale was enthralling.

“You realize that the stories surrounding the Macphersons can be a bit daunting.”

“Daunting?” he spat. “You find us daunting? You’re joking. No person walking the earth can intimidate you.”

She realized that Alexander only saw her as she wanted to be seen. Tough. No-nonsense. A woman with an independent spirit.

“Your mother is a bit daunting.”

“My mother?” He looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “Fiona Drummond Macpherson? A woman you only met at our wedding?”

Kenna had been in Fiona’s company barely long enough for a dozen formal sentences to pass between them. And that was when she was being welcomed into the Macpherson family. Fiona had done all the talking. Kenna had stared at her feet in guilt and nodded, knowing that she’d be running off that same night.

“Your mother’s manners are perfect. She’s educated. She dresses and looks and speaks like a kindly queen. She’s respected, and not only in the Highlands. People know of her across Scotland. She’s a legend.”

“Aye, but she’s also
my
mother. That should speak volumes on how flawed the woman is.”

Kenna waved him off like a noisy fly. “That woman is the daughter of King James.”

“And you find her daunting . . . an ancient, bastard daughter of a dead king?”

“Ancient?” she sputtered.

“Aye, the woman must be ninety years old.”

Kenna punched him in the shoulder. “Your mother is not yet fifty, and she has the beauty of a lass!”

“By ’sblood, she’s an ugly old crone. Are you certain you met the right woman during our wedding celebration?”

“Why do you do this? You must think your mission in life is to rile me.”

She saw the raised brow, the crooked smile that dimpled one cheek. She looked into his eyes and felt a kick deep in her belly. She was far from immune to his charms.

Kenna looked away. The valley below now lay in deep shadow. Night was claiming the land.

“How could I ever live up to your family’s expectations when you constantly strive to upset me?”

“Expectations? There are no expectations when it comes to Macpherson wives.”

“Aye, there is. I have none of the accomplishments that are required to be your wife,” she confessed. “You’re the next laird. You wife will be the laird’s right hand. For years I’ve heard stories about your mother and her intelligence and her virtue. Then I see her and find that all of them are absolutely true. She’s everything that I’m not. I could never—”

Alexander took hold of her hand and flattened it against his chest, stopping her. “Kenna, my mother was spirited away to Isle of Skye to become a nun the night her own mother was murdered. Tess was a wild child before Colin met her. My uncle Ambrose’s wife, Elizabeth, dressed as a man and painted with Michelangelo in Italy for a decade before she married him. There is nothing traditional in the accomplishments of the Macpherson women.”

Kenna lost her voice, feeling choked up. She’d revealed too much, said more than she’d intended to. Her father’s words never left her. Why did she do that? Why allow Alexander to see her as vulnerable? She tore her hand free and walked down the hill.

He caught up to her. “Wait. Now I understand. You ran away on our wedding day because you thought you wouldn’t measure up in some way?”

Kenna shook her head, walking faster. It was difficult to explain the education she’d lacked, the motherly advice that she’d never had. It was impossible to talk about her childhood and not break down. She would never forget how little her own family thought of her value.

“Talk to me, woman. How can you expect me to trust you when you don’t trust me?”

“I . . .” Kenna faltered.

Suddenly, a crowd of people carrying torches appeared in the lower end of the meadow. Kenna stopped as Alexander moved in front of her, his hand on the sheathed sword.

“Who are these people?” she asked in a whisper. “Friend or enemy?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The mob of men and women climbed toward them, dirty sunburned faces flashing in the torchlight. Many were armed with stout sticks. Kenna’s mind raced with Alexander’s warning. She imagined murmurs becoming chants. Words like
witch
and
sorcery
and
old religion
danced in her head. She moved closer to Alexander, her heart racing with fear.

A boy pushed his way through to the front of the mob.

Alexander drew his sword.

“That’s her,” Jock said, pointing at her.

Craignock Castle burst with excitement when Emily, Kester, and the other MacDougall men rode up through the village to the gates. Children appeared from every direction, running alongside her as she passed shop windows and houses already decorated with banners and garlands of flowers—red and yellow and violet. The castle gate was open and jammed with carts laden with meat and fowl and vegetables for the wedding feasts, and lookouts called down greetings to her and to the others from the high walls.