Authors: Victoria Roberts
Declan watched the healer sleep well into the night. He watched every breath she took, even the slightest of movements, and memorized every tempting curve of her body. She was an undiscovered treasure that he had left buried for far too long and for no apparent reason except his own stupidity. His mother and father had never quarreled. Perhaps he could even find a way to finally make them proud because in a few short hours, he would make the final journey to his new home.
Not wanting to wake his slumbering wife, he left the bed before the light of day. He wandered the halls of Glenorchy aimlessly, finding himself climbing the steps to seek the solace of the parapet.
“What are ye doing here?” asked Ciaran in the shadows of the early morn.
Declan approached his brother. “I could ask ye the same.”
“I couldnae sleep. I know something troubles Rosalia.”
“Mayhap she regained her wit and realizes she chose the wrong brother,” he said, jestingly.
“Donna start. Why are ye up and about?”
“I couldnae sleep, either.”
“Mayhap Liadain has regained her wit and realizes she chose the wrong brother,” Ciaran repeated in a dry tone.
“Ciaran, donna even attempt to jest. Ye will ne’er be as good as me, Brother. I have had many years of practice.” He paused, running his hand through his hair. “What do ye think troubles Rosalia?”
Ciaran’s expression became more serious. “I donna know. She hasnae been sleeping. She tosses and turns, and I have heard her even leave the bedchamber upon occasion in the wee hours of the morn.”
“Did ye ask her?”
“Aye, but she insists there is naught amiss and changes the subject.”
“Give her time. If something is troubling her, she will tell ye when she is ready.”
Ciaran lifted his brow. “I suppose. Since when did ye begin to offer such sound advice?”
“Since the bonny Campbell wench made me see the error of my ways.”
“That is the first time I have ever heard ye use the words ‘bonny’ and ‘Campbell’ in the same breath. Howbeit I donna care who made ye see your faults—as long as ye see.”
Standing in silence, they watched the amber rays of the rising sun. A light mist floated above the lapping water of the loch.
Ciaran cleared his throat. “Do ye need anything further before ye take your leave?”
He leaned against the cool, dewy stone. “Nay, I donna think so. Ye arenae so far away that I cannae travel to Glenorchy if I need to.” And that was the moment Declan had another revelation.
He would be the first to admit that Ciaran was a pain in his bloody arse, but his brother was family, his kin. When their father passed away, his brother had stepped right in, assuming their sire’s mantle without question. The last Ciaran likely needed was a reckless younger brother. Somewhat regretful of his prior ill-behavior, Declan was aware that Ciaran’s actions were only those of a concerned brother.
“What is troubling ye? Having second thoughts?” Ciaran asked, puzzled.
“Nay…’tisnae easy for me to speak, but I want to thank ye for all ye have done for me.”
A soft gasp escaped Ciaran. “What? I couldnae have heard your words correctly.”
“Ye heard me perfectly clear. I know I wasnae an easy man to get along with, and there are some acts I regret considerably, but I cannae change the past even if I could. I hope ye can trust in me again, Ciaran, and we may be as brothers as we once were.”
Ciaran slapped Declan on the shoulder. “Ye are eternally my brother, my kin. Aiden and I will always be concerned for ye. Ye were killing yourself, whether ye realized it or nae—constantly in your cups and nae to mention your wenching ways. I couldnae stand by and watch ye fall to your knees before my verra eyes. I tried to guide ye, to help ye. I cannae speak to the depths of relief I feel now that ye are starting anew with a wife and responsibilities.” It was the first time Declan noticed that his brother’s eyes filled with compassion, not judgment. “I only hope ye find peace in your life and within yourself.”
Declan could only nod. His words caught in his throat, and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, his eyes would water like those of some feeble-minded lass. Refusing to lose the infamous MacGregor resolve, he held back his emotions. He had only shed tears once before—upon the death of his beloved mother. He would not allow himself to do it again.
***
Liadain gathered her belongings and dragged her sack down the steps. The weight did not bother her. Frankly, she would have carried any weight or treaded through anything to return home. She turned at the sound of Magaidh’s bark, and of course her husband walked into the great hall as soon as she reached the bottom step.
“Wife? What are ye doing?” MacGregor approached her with long, purposeful strides and then he reached for her bag. “Ye should have waited for me. I would have brought it down for ye.”
Lowering her voice, she murmured, “Since ye didnae join me last eve, I wasnae sure if ye took your leave again without me.”
He cast a roguish grin and then he leaned in close. “Healer, ye slept as the dead. I was next to ye the entire time and took my leave early this morn so I wouldnae wake ye. And nay, I wouldnae take my leave without ye.” He stood to his full height and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. Tenderly, his eyes melted into hers.
“My apologies, I am eager to be home.”
“Why donna we break our fast and then take our leave?”
Liadain took her seat next to Rosalia in the great hall and her heart sank. Rosalia’s color was a pasty white, and a beaded sweat shined upon her brow. The poor woman looked as though death were upon her.
Leaning over, Liadain whispered, “Rosalia, ye were ill again this morn?”
Tears slowly coursed down Rosalia’s cheeks. “My stomach is verra unsettled.”
A compassionate smile curved Liadain’s mouth, and she reached out and rubbed Rosalia’s back. “’Tis all right. It will pass in time. I will leave ye some herbs ye can mix with water to make a broth, and it will alleviate some of your discomfort.”
When Ciaran leaned forward at the table and his eyes narrowed, Liadain promptly turned her head away from him. “Do ye have everything ye need, Husband?”
MacGregor swallowed a mouthful of food and nodded. “Aye, I spoke with Ciaran and I believe all is in order. Once we return, we will get everything underway. I would like ye to take me one more time through the passages. I need to know my way around without stumbling like a blind fool. Is there anyone else who knows of the tunnels?”
She thought for a moment. “Besides Archie and myself, I cannae think of anyone. My brother wasnae too trusting and I donna think he would have told many.”
“Good. I donna want to worry that someone will sneak in and slit my throat in the night.” He lifted his brow and a faint light twinkled in the depths of his eyes. “Unless of course I have to worry upon ye.”
She laughed. “Ye are the only one who has been caught holding daggers at the throat of others.”
“Ye have a point.” He shrugged.
After Liadain broke her fast, she made certain her mount was loaded with the last of her belongings. Although she thoroughly enjoyed Rosalia’s companionship, she needed time to herself. Anxious to be on her way, she had almost been able to make her escape when Ciaran approached her with a dark look of determination.
“Liadain, is Rosalia ill? What ails her? I need to know.” Ciaran’s eyes stopped her dead in her tracks as her thoughts raced.
She knew Laird Ciaran MacGregor was not a man to cross, having witnessed his wrath set upon Archie. But she could not betray the confidence that Rosalia had placed upon her, either. She feigned an interest in the straps of her mount.
“Did ye ask Rosalia?” A strong grip encircled her arm and Ciaran whipped her around.
“Ye will tell me what ails my wife,” he said through clenched teeth.
She gasped, when her husband flanked her. “Release my wife,” he said, his voice laced with a stern warning.
As if Ciaran did not realize he still held her, he dropped her arm. “I must know and ye will tell me.” When she backed up, Ciaran attempted to follow.
Her husband pushed Ciaran firmly on the chest, his expression enraged. “Leave off, Brother.”
Ciaran’s eyes darkened dangerously. “She knows what is wrong with Rosalia, and I will have the truth,” he bellowed, pointing at Liadain.
“She doesnae know anything, Ciaran,” Declan said with an edge to his voice.
A heavy silence fell.
Rosalia burst into the stables. “God’s teeth! I can hear ye from across the bailey.” When no one responded, Rosalia cast a puzzled look at Ciaran. “Husband?”
The fierce MacGregor laird’s eyes softened. “I know something ails ye and I want to know the truth.
Now.
” He raised his hand and smoothed Rosalia’s tresses. “Something is amiss and ye will tell me. ’Tis enough already. Ye make me mad with worry, Wife.” His tone was not so much an order as it was a plea for her to share the truth.
Rosalia’s eyes welled with tears. “I am nae certain and I say it again—I am nae certain.” Reaching out, she placed her hand on the massive wall of Ciaran’s chest and smiled. “’Tis a possibility—a slight possibility—I am with child.”
The brawny MacGregor laird fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Rosalia’s middle, resting his head upon her stomach. He held on to his wife like she was his salvation into this world and the next. If Liadain had not witnessed it firsthand, she would not have believed it.
Her husband pulled her along behind him. “Let us leave them.” When they exited the stables, MacGregor stopped. “Did ye know Rosalia was with child?”
For a long moment, she looked back at her husband with uncertainty. “She didnae want anyone to know for fear it wasnae true. I gave her my word I wouldnae—”
His expression softened. “Healer, I understand. If ye gave your word, ye gave your word.”
She closed her fallen jaw at her husband’s demeanor. “I thought ye would be cross with me.”
“Then clearly ye donna know me as ye think ye do.”
Rosalia and Ciaran walked out of the stables arm in arm. Rosalia wiped her tears and Ciaran grinned briefly with no trace of his former animosity. His smile was without malice, almost remorseful.
“Congratulations, Brother,” said MacGregor, giving Ciaran a manly hug and a firm slap upon the back.
Ciaran nodded and then turned to Liadain. “Please accept my apologies.”
“There is nay need for apologies. Ye were concerned for your wife. I understand your worry.”
“Declan, we arenae certain I am with child. I donna want to be overly joyful and then it doesnae happen,” Rosalia said softly.
He nodded. “We willnae celebrate—yet. Howbeit ’tis my hope if ye are with child that he is much like his Uncle Declan. Of course he will be a bonny lad and good with the lasses.”
Rosalia coughed and Ciaran grunted. “We only pray the bairn is healthy,” said Ciaran, rolling his eyes.
“What say ye, Wife? Are ye ready to travel home?” MacGregor asked, his comforting hand upon Liadain’s shoulder.
The man did not need to ask her twice.
***
Declan hefted her sack over his shoulder and climbed the steps of his new home to their chambers. He dropped the bundle and swung open the door, gesturing for his new wife to enter. He could not wait to see the expression on her face when she noticed the shelves for her healing plants and herbs. And her look was everything he had hoped for.
She gasped. “This wasnae here before. Did ye do this?”
He tossed the healer’s sack upon the bed and smiled. “Aye, with some help from John. We moved your plants from your old chamber.”
A thoughtful smile curved his wife’s lips. “I cannae believe ye did this for me. I truly thank ye. I believed they were all dead and someone had just tossed them out. ’Tis good to know something survived the aftermath of Archie’s reign.”
“’Tis why I didnae make it back to Glenorchy. John and I were working and wanted this to be a surprise.”
“’Tis a wonderful gift. Now I have plenty of room to add my willow bark and other plants I have gathered from court.” She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek. “’Tis perfect. Really perfect,” she said, fingering the shelves. “Ye donna mind that my chamber will have plants hanging from the walls?”
“Whatever keeps a smile upon your lovely face.”
Like a gust of wind, John bolted into the room. “Ye are back! Mother told me as much. I had to see it for my own eyes,” he said, panting between breaths. “Did ye see the shelves we put up?”
“I did and I truly thank ye both for the wonderful gift.”
“I told ye she would love it.” John elbowed Declan in the side and then cast the healer a puzzled look. “Ye didnae mind that we moved your plants? He said that ye had to change rooms because ye are his lady and this is where ye belong now.”
She looked at John, a small smile playing upon her lips. “When ye grace me with such an offering, how could I mind?”
Declan gave the boy a playful tap on the shoulder. “Let us find your mother, lad.”
“I will just unpack and then join ye below stairs,” Liadain said.
John looked up at Declan and smiled as soon as they closed the healer’s door. “Ye were right. M’lady wasnae cross with ye for moving her belongings.”
“Nay, lad.” A thought suddenly popped into Declan’s mind. “Wait here. I forgot something.” He turned around and pushed open his wife’s door.
“Healer…”
A soft gasp escaped her. “MacGregor!”
Declan could not help but point and stare. “What the hell is
that
?”
Liadain whipped the delicate gown behind her back as her husband stood as still as a statue. She tried to mask her guilty look by offering him a demure smile and did not fool the man for a moment.
“I repeat, what the hell was that?”
She turned away, hastily stuffing the transparent material back into her bag. “It was naught.”
A firm hand touched her arm. “Nay, it was definitely something.” He tugged her away from the sack and then proceeded to pull out the dreaded gown. He held up the wicked cloth, studied it intently, and then turned and held up the delicate material to her frame. His eyes darkened and Liadain could swear that he actually growled.
She pulled the devilish garment out of MacGregor’s hands before the situation had a chance to become worse—not that she thought it could. But when a small voice spoke, she was aware that she should not assume anything.
John’s shuffling feet entered into the chamber. “Do ye come or nae, sir?”
Her husband’s eyes twinkled with liveliness. “Nae yet.”
Liadain playfully slapped at her beast of a husband. “Cease. It means naught. This was only a foolish gift from Rosalia and Aisling.”
“I donna think ’tis foolish at all. Mmm…I will admit that my sisters-by-marriage can at times be verra wise.”
John sighed, tapping his foot. “Are ye coming?”
“Rest assured, healer, we will be discussing this later.”
Wonderful—just what she had hoped for. She knew the rogue would not forget about this. He would continue to hound her until he received the answer he sought. What possible reason would she be able to divulge for having such a naughty gown in her possession if she did not intend to wear it?
She unpacked her sack for the last time and welcomed the distraction. Her new chamber was certainly much roomier than her last. Glancing to the shelves, she smiled. Perhaps the peace offering was a new beginning. With the last of her belongings put away, she wandered into the kitchens where Anna, John, and MacGregor were sitting at a small wooden table enjoying fresh baked bread.
Anna jumped up from her seat when she spotted Liadain. “My lady.”
Liadain waved her off. “Please donna fuss over me.” She sat down on the bench and reached for a piece of bread. “It smells delightful.” She felt MacGregor’s heated gaze upon her, and her heart fluttered. She was strangely flattered by his interest.
“The new master is taking me to watch his men practice swordplay in the bailey,” said John with a look of worship.
“How lovely,” Liadain said. She made an error in judgment by glancing into MacGregor’s sparkling eyes.
“Aye, why donna ye come with us? Mayhap I will even pick up a sword with Montgomery,” he said, placing the last piece of bread into his mouth.
“Rosalia says Montgomery is quite skilled.” When MacGregor raised his brow and his lips twitched with amusement, she quickly added, “With a sword.”
“John, I donna want ye in the way,” said Anna, giving her son a reprimanding look.
“He willnae be in the way. Will ye, John?” asked MacGregor.
The lad shook his head adamantly. “Nay, sir, I give ye my word.”
“Well then. There ye have it.” He rose from the bench and nodded to John. “We donna want to keep the men waiting.”
Swallowing the last of her bread, Liadain brushed off her hands and stood. “Donna worry. I will watch over him.”
“’Tis good to have ye home, m’lady.”
It was good to be home.
The clanking sounds of metal swords rang through the bailey. The men formed a circle around Montgomery and another man. Sweat beaded on both of their foreheads, and the other man grunted when his blade was met with strong resistance.
Walking along the edge of the bailey, Liadain watched the men. She sat down on a bench near the stone wall. Once the men had ample opportunity to show off their prowess, she would make her escape to see to her plants.
***
Declan watched his bonny wife circle around his men and sit on the bench. She was difficult to miss with her curvy figure and full rosy lips. He could not wait to taste them—again.
John tugged on his tunic. “Well?”
“Well what?”
John let out a loud sigh. “I have been speaking with ye, and ye havenae been listening. Mother would scold ye if she were here.”
He chuckled with amusement. “Ye have my undivided attention.”
“Do ye think ye could teach me how to wield a sword?”
Declan shook his head and looked back at Montgomery, who had extended an arm to his fallen comrade. “I donna think your mother would approve.”
“Mayhap if
ye
speak with her she would.”
He ruffled John’s hair and smiled. “We shall see. It might be better if Montgomery would instruct ye. I am more suited for the bow.”
“Then will ye teach me the bow?” the lad asked with persistence.
John reminded him of someone he knew. When Montgomery finished toying with his man, he dismissed the remainder of the guard. Declan was pleased with his efforts.
“The men are well trained,” said Declan.
“Aye, but there is always room for improvement.” Holding out a sword, Montgomery smiled. “Shall we show them how ’tis done?”
Declan nudged John out of harm’s way and grabbed the sword from Montgomery. “Ye know swordplay isnae my strong skill.”
“So your brother has said,” Montgomery responded. “’Tis an essential, though, in close quarters.”
Montgomery lunged.
His blade only nearly missed Declan’s ear. With two quick steps forward, Declan hefted his sword but Montgomery effortlessly twisted out of his way and blocked his swing. He had just lifted his weapon to administer another blow when Montgomery moved swiftly to the side, elbowing him square in the back.
“Ye made your point,” he grunted.
“Ye overexaggerate your movements and your body speaks where ye will strike. It gives me plenty of time to prepare a defense, but your form is good.”
“Thank ye, I think.”
“Strike at me. Now,” Montgomery ordered.
He followed the captain of his guard’s instructions, swung, and to his surprise, Montgomery fell backward to the ground with a heavy thump. When he placed the tip of his sword at Montgomery’s throat, the man smiled. “Verra good. Your lady watches.”
Declan’s eyes widened. Montgomery had actually taken a fall to protect Declan’s pride. Extending his arm, he pulled the captain of his guard to his feet and then turned around and shared a smile with his bonny wife. He definitely owed Montgomery.
The healer approached as John raced to Declan’s side. “Ye did it! Montgomery yielded!” John shouted.
Declan twisted his head around as the captain of his guard gathered his swords, attempting to hold back a smile. There were not many men who did not let their pride consume them. No wonder his sister-by-marriage favored the man’s friendship and Ciaran despised him.
Placing his hand upon John’s shoulder, Declan smiled. “Ye need to return to your mother now. There is something to which I must attend.”
***
Liadain noticed MacGregor watched her intently. She had to admit that there was a maddening hint of arrogance about him. Her fingers suddenly ached to touch her husband as she admired his powerful set of shoulders.
“There is plenty of time for that later, healer.” His voice was soothing, yet oddly disturbing. “I need ye to show me the passages once more.”
“Of course,” she said. Still thinking it unwise to permit him to see how much he rattled her, she spun on her heel.
Neither of them spoke as they walked along the outer barmkin wall of the castle. MacGregor did not broach the subject of her shameful gown, and she did not offer any explanation. When they reached the entrance to the tunnel, he cleared his throat.
“’Tis verra well hidden, and unless ye know of the passage, I donna think it would be compromised.”
Liadain nodded. “I donna believe anyone has ever discovered this entrance—well, except mayhap ye when ye bolted from the brush and frightened me almost to my death.”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Come now, healer, the only reason I startled ye was because of my bonny looks. Ye have ne’er seen a man as handsome as me. Admit it.” He nudged her arm.
“I admit naught,” she retorted. “Come now, rogue, and follow me through the dark.” Entering the passageway, the dolt immediately bumped into her. “MacGregor, truly.”
“My apologies,” he uttered behind her. “Donna light a candle. I must know my way.”
The tunnel was dark and damp, cooler air surrounding them. “Reach out and feel for the wall.” When he did not respond, she assumed that he had. “Keep your hand on the wall and move forward carefully until ye feel the wall separate.”
They shuffled their way through the corridor and when the wall bowed, she stopped. Her husband promptly stepped on her heel.
“Ye need to tell me when ye stop,” he chided her.
“I realize that. Give me your hand and donna place it upon my breast.” A warm chuckle answered her. She scrambled for her husband’s hand. Placing his hand on the wall, she rubbed his fingers back and forth. “Do ye feel that?”
“Aye. So if I walk straight, I travel to the great hall. If I move to the left, ’tis to my study.”
“Aye. Do ye want to lead and I will follow?”
MacGregor grabbed her and spun her around, changing positions. “Are ye ready?”
“Lead on.” With one hand upon the wall and the other holding his tunic, Liadain shuffled her way to Archie’s study.
When Declan opened the stone door, he held up his hands in delight. “It wasnae as troublesome as the first time.”
She raised her brow and folded her arms over her chest. “Ye speak in truth. Ye arenae as troublesome as the first time.”
He smiled and sat down in the chair behind Archie’s desk. He leaned back and casually crossed his ankles, lifting them to rest on the desk. “Healer, donna jest unless ye can handle it back.”
“Was that all ye wanted to see? I would like to tend to my plants. Mayhap on the morrow we can ride to the village.”
He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Aye, ’tis all I wanted to see—for now.” When he undressed her with his eyes, his double meaning could not have been any more transparent.
Clearing her throat, she hastily looked away and walked out the door. The man was so brazen and comfortable with his every move. She despised the fact that he could see right through her.
As she reached her husband’s bedchamber door, she paused and could not cease the curiosity that plagued her. Since the rogue was currently occupied in the study, she could not resist a peek.
Liadain slipped inside his bedchamber and quickly closed the door. The massive bed was just as she remembered. Approaching the stone wall beside the fireplace, she studied the portrait of her father. The painting was not in her father’s likeness. It portrayed her sire with warmth and compassion, the complete opposite of everything the man had been.
As she studied the painting, nagging questions hammered at her heart. The portrait looked odd on the wall, especially when there was an empty space above the mantel. She thought her father’s portrait would be the last thing her husband would want in his chamber. Having a Campbell laird staring at the man while he slept would surely give anyone nightmares. She decided to remove it.
She hefted the painting from the wall and placed it on the floor. She doubted MacGregor would even miss it.
Wonderful. A prominent empty space was now on the adjoining wall, as well as above the mantel. She tried to remember if they had another tapestry to fill the spot. As she considered her options, she noticed something sticking out of the wall where the portrait had hung.
Liadain ran her hand over the rough stone and felt a distinct indentation—similar to the entrance to the passageways. She pushed at it and the wall separated.
Squeezing through the gap, she was immediately engulfed in pitch black. She cautiously moved her way back out, thinking it best to light a candle. As she reentered the small opening, she saw it was a passageway with only enough space for her to stand. She held up the candle to the partition, and in the center of the wall was another ridge.
Liadain gave the wall a push and it creaked open. She stepped carefully into what looked like another modest chamber. As she lit another candle, the room was illuminated—a study. Maps adorned the walls and golden trinkets lined the shelves. When she spotted a dark wooden desk, she could not resist a peek inside.
She walked around the desk and opened a drawer. She pulled out a stack of notes in Archie’s handwriting and flipped through them. None of it made any sense. Perhaps MacGregor could sort through them. He would certainly trust her once she disclosed her discovery. If Archie had any method to his madness, MacGregor could decipher it. She put everything back where she had found it, shoving the papers back into the drawer and closing it.
Randomly pulling out another drawer, she sighed. Letters, papers, notes. What did Archie need with all of these? Shuffling through them, she spotted a detailed map of Parliament House with what looked like lines that all led to a centralized giant ‘X.’ Odd, what would Archie be doing with that? Her brother had been to Parliament House many times. She was about to place the document back when a bold name jumped off the page at her.
Catesby.
She thought of her time at court. Could it possibly be the same Catesby who had befriended MacGregor? She scrolled down the page, hoping to catch his first name. Well, at least that was her intent until another name caught her attention.
Percy.
This could not be a coincidence. Liadain sat down behind the desk and continued to read. God’s teeth! What had her brother been into?
According to what she read, her brother had met more than a handful of times with Catesby and Percy. She gathered they had wanted to remove someone from his position of power, probably some English lord who tried to invade Archie’s territory. She grunted. Her brother had always been overly greedy.
As she continued to read, she stirred uneasily. This could not be true.
Dunnehl. Fawkes.
She continued to sort through her brother’s notes, looking for anything that would give her an inkling of the association between the men. Pulling out the last document she could find, she slowly read the contents.