April Holthaus - The MacKinnon Clan 02 (18 page)

“I am Lady Kenna MacKinnon. I knew yer mother in my younger days.”

“How did you know her?”

“I am sure that the name of my deceased brother in law is quite familiar to ye and yer brother.”

“Yes. But I have learned that everything I was told was a lie.”

“I am glad that ye believe so. The Renolds have never spoke kindly of the MacKinnons since yer parents’ death. Perhaps I can clarify what really happened that tragic day.”

Jacqueline turned her chair towards Lady Kenna, eager to hear her side of the story.

“My Duncan and his brother Douglas grew up with your mother Heather. Oh how Douglas fancied her. When she married yer father, he stepped aside. Yer Uncle Guillaume was furious that his brother’s wife had been associated to a Scottish clan. Many times he tried to break their marriage with false lies. When yer parents went to Ireland for a peace treaty, Douglas knew that it was a trap. Yer da was the rightful heir to Carlisle but yer uncle wanted it fer himself. Douglas tried to intervene when the pirates came but was too late. As yer uncle had the King’s ear, the MacKinnons became outlaws and Douglas went into hiding. I am so sorry fer what had happened to yer parents.”

“I do not know how, but one day I will make sure that my uncle pays for his crimes.”

Just then, Ewan and Rory exited the library. Ewan flaunted a smile upon his face as he entered the room, and Jacqueline knew that all was well.

“Mother, let the kitchen staff ken to begin preparing food. We are having a feast in celebration of my cousin and his bride,” Rory announced.

It wasn’t long after that the tables began to fill with plates of steaming hot stews, breads, meats and cheeses of all kinds. The bailey was filled with villagers and laughter. Jacqueline laughed as men began fighting over spilled ale and others tripped over chickens that were running frantically between their legs. Jacqueline clapped along to the cheerful music as partners swung each other around in the most unusual fashion.

“Would ye care to dance?” Ewan asked.

“I do not know this dance. I would only look like a fool.”

“Lookin’ a fool is how ye are supposed to dance,” Ewan said as he picked Jacqueline up into his arms and began swinging her around.

Arm in arm, they danced in circles around one another. Jacqueline had only danced a few times at court but in a more formal and appropriate setting. She felt amused at Ewan’s show of jealousy as everyone wanted to dance with her. Jacqueline could not remember having so much fun.

Everything seemed perfect until the music came to an abrupt halt. Two of the gate guards came running into the bailey calling out their Laird’s name.

“My Laird. English troops are at the gate demanding word wit ye,” one of them said.

“How many of ‘em?” he asked.

“About a dozen.”

Rory looked over to Ewan and back to the guard.

“Ye can allow their leader entrance but no one else. Escort him to the library. I will meet wit him shortly. Jacqueline, I think it is best that ye go inside.”

Ewan took Jacqueline by the arm and hurried her inside.

“I told ye. Having her here is only going to bring trouble,” one of the elders called out.

“I want ye to stay here,” Ewan told her.

“If they are here for me, Ewan I want to face them. I do not want to keep running or hiding.”

“Jacqueline, dinna make me tie ye to that chair.”

“I do not wish to be treated as a child. I demand to go with you.”

“Lass, why cannae ye ever listen?”

Jacqueline ran to the window to see if she recognized the Englishman.

“Wayland?” she said to herself. “Ewan, it is my brother. I must speak to him. He will no’ hurt me. Please.”

Ewan did not like the idea, but knew how stubborn Jacqueline could be. If she wanted to go, she would find a way even if he had forbidden her to. Together they walked hand in hand towards the library. As they entered, Jacqueline stood closely behind Ewan, just barely peering over his shoulder at her brother. Jacqueline had seen her brother furious with her before, but this time he looked down right explosive.

“The lass ye seek is my cousin’s bride. She is part of this clan and under my protection. Ye will no’ be taking her anywhere,” Rory interjected.

Looking over at Jacqueline, Wayland asked, “Is this nonsense true?”

“Yes, brother. This is my husband. Our vows were performed in front of a priest in the house of God,” she said as she squeezed onto Ewan’s arm.

“First, I find out that you’re dead and now you’re married. What game are you playing at?”

“It is no game. Wayland, they are not who you think they are and I have not betrayed our family. Uncle Guillaume has kept many secrets from us. Douglas MacKinnon did not kill our parents. He tried to save them. Uncle Guillaume conspired against them to make sure that Carlisle stayed under his control, his bloodline. You, Wayland are the rightful Lord of Carlisle, not Richard. Uncle Guillaume knew of this and had our parents killed so that the truth would never be found out.”

“Is that the lies these Scots told you? Are you so gullible to befriend those who betrayed and killed your own mother and father?”

“Believe me Brother, I speak only the truth. Laird Duncan and his brother Douglas were friends to our mother. Douglas only went into hiding long enough for the truth to come out. We have allowed our hatred to rule us, and never saw what was right in front of us. Tis Uncle Guillaume’s man servant Nicolaus who killed them.”

Jacqueline watched as Wayland’s fumed expression slowly dissipated to a flat demeanor. She stepped out from behind Ewan, allowing herself to confront him.

“If what you say is true, there is no way to prove it. Our uncle is dead.”

“Dead? Surely you can make an inquiry with the king. He knows who holds the title of the estate.”

“These are matters above you. You dare speak such way against our family. Richard will not listen to such blasphemy. He will believe that ye are a traitor, and will tell any lie. I may be able to speak to him about granting you leniency so you will be permitted to return home but you will be put on house arrest.”

“I am not going with you, Wayland. I am home.”

“This farce of a marriage does not exist within our courts. He cannot keep you here.”

“I am not here against my will. I love him,” Jacqueline said as she backed towards Ewan and grabbed onto his hand.

“If you stay, you know that Richard may never allow you to return.”

“I understand. I told you what I needed and you can use that in whatever means you must. But I must bid you good day, and safe journey, Brother,” Jacqueline looked at him with cold eyes, not wanting to reveal the hurt she felt.

Everyone in the room stood quiet. Jacqueline waited for her brother to respond to her dismissal.

“I see that there is no more to be said. Take care of her,” Wayland said directed to Ewan.

“Wit my life,” he replied.

Rory had instructed the guards to escort Wayland back to the front gates, leaving Ewan and Jacqueline alone in the library. Jacqueline watched through the window as Wayland crossed the courtyard. Her heart constricted with the knowledge that she would never see him again.

“Well, where is she?” one of the English guards asked.

Wayland looked back at the tower window of the castle and saw Jacqueline peeking out through it. Looking back to the guard he replied, “The lady of the manor is not my sister. The information we were given sent us in circles. Leave it to a bloody Scot’s deception to send us on a false trail.”

“I knew those two highwaymen could not be trusted. Shall we continue our search?”

“No. She is most likely already dead as we assumed. We are heading home.”

Ewan came up behind Jacqueline and watched the Englishmen mount their horses and ride away.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Aye. Are ye alright?”

“Yes, I am.” Jacqueline turned to face him and threw herself in his arms and whispered, “Shall we return to the celebration?”

“Nay, I think I have a better idea,” he said as he began kissing alongside her neck.

Jacqueline felt in a daze; weakened by the pleasure the she felt tingling down her body. Ewan scooped her up into his arms and walked down the hall towards their bedchamber. Not wanting to be gentle, he playfully tossed her onto the bed and stripped off his shirt.

Jacqueline looked up at him with devilish eyes, teasing him by slowly loosening the ties of her dress. Ewan hopped onto the bed and rolled on top of her and kissed her ferociously, forcing her mouth to open so that he could sweep his tongue along hers.

Ewan gently placed his index finger underneath Jacqueline’s chin and slowly titled it up so that he could look directly into her crystal blue eyes.

“I love ye, wife.”

“And I love you, my Highland warrior.”

Ewan combed Jacqueline’s hair behind her ear and brushed his rough hand against her smooth cheek.

“When I first saw ye, I thought ye were an angel. And ye are; an angel from the heavens who saved me black soul.”

Ewan leaned up and crashed his lips back down upon Jacqueline’s in a wild and passionate kiss.

                    The End

Continue the MacKinnon Clan Series with

Book Three:

Highland Daydreams

Coming Summer 2014

Chapter 1

Summer, 1298

Northern England

Pulling the weight of the chain, Lara scurried to the corner of her cell. Tucking her knees under her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs, she sat there quiet and still, hoping to not draw any attention from the guards. Concerned with what little strength she had left, she was not sure she would survive much longer. Her breaths had become shallower and the bones around her wrists and ribs were starting to become more dominant from hunger.

Lara was uncertain if it had been weeks or months that she had spent within the bowels of the dungeon. Time did not exist within the darkness. She no longer heard the desperate cries or screams of her fellow cell mates, nor did she feel her own inflicted wounds when the guards had beat and raped her.

Lara hid her face when she heard the guards dragging a prisoner down the stone stairwell. As they entered the dungeon room, she could hear the crack of the leather whip biting into the man’s skin three times. The prisoners around her yelled out in the man’s defense, but no sound came from the man himself. The nameless warrior was the only one who never fought back or struggled when the guards came for him. He just clenched his teeth and endured the pain. Unsure if he had just given up the will to live or had unbreakable strength, the only spark of life Lara had left was the empathy she felt for warrior who shared the cell next to her.

“Get in there,” the English guard said as he forced the warrior back into his cell.

The other two guards grabbed onto his arms and held him down as he was once again chained to the wall with iron shackles. Lara poked her head up and looked through the bars at the warrior. Barely able make out his features, she could see the blood running down the side of his face as it glimmered from the dim torches on the far end of the wall.

Lara carefully observed the guards as they returned to their posts. She knew that two of them would head back up the stairs while the robust guard with a scar across his cheek would sit down on his chair outside her cell, tilt it back against the bars and slam back a mug or two of whiskey. Their routine had become very predictable. All she needed now was to wait until the guard fell asleep. Lara was sure that this time, she would be able to slip her thin wrists out of the shackles.

Lara twisted her right hand back and forth successfully popping it out of its binding. Repeating the same thing with the other hand, she was able to free herself from the irons. Glancing around the room, no one had noticed, except for the nameless warrior whose heavy gaze sent chills down Lara’s spine. Lara grabbed onto one of the strips of cloth she have saved that had torn from the hem of her dress. Sliding her small hand through the bars, she slid the fabric over the sleeping guard’s throat. With one thrust, she pulled back as hard as she could; using her feet as leverage against the bars.

The guard woke struggling to breathe and tried to unravel the fabric around his neck, but Lara did not let go of her grip. The guard started to choke and shake from lack of oxygen until his hands dropped to his side and he remained motionless. Once Lara was certain he was dead, she released the cloth. Her palms burned from holding onto the fabric so tight. Unlatching the key ring from around his belt, she went to the door of her cell and swung it opened. The cloud creak of the steel echoed throughout the large room. The prisoners around her gratefully remained silent. If anyone had made any noise she would surely be caught.

She knew she had little time to escape and would not be able to free the rest of the men in the dungeon. As she put one foot on the first step, she turned her head and looked back at the warrior. Something about him that Lara could not explain. She couldn’t let a man as brave as him, die in here. Not like this, not without honor.

“Damnation,” she whispered to herself as she turned around and ran to his cell.

Quickly, she turned the key in the hole and opened the door. The warrior looked up at her but said nothing. Above the staircase, she heard a noise from one of the guards. Worried that her escape would fail, she tossed the key at his side and took off running up the stairs. She left it to him to unchain himself from the wall. She did all she could.

At the top of the stairs, she looked around and saw the two other guards sitting at a small round table drinking and talking about a fight they got into at a tavern the night before. One of them was teasing the other. On each side of the room, were two large wooden load-bearing support beams that held up the ceiling; just wide enough for Lara to hide behind. When the guards weren’t looking she held her breath and quickly advanced forward to the first beam.