True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Read online

  “Dinna worry, Malcolm. True is not ill. I’ll come to your chamber anon.” Elaine patted his arm on her way past.

  His mother drew the bedclothes back so he could lay True down. The minute he let her go, she started to thrash about. He shook her gently to wake her, alarmed when she did not rouse. “Alethia,” he spoke into her ear. “Wake up, lass.” He shook her again, his heart freezing with fear. “Mother, what do I do? I canna wake her.”

  “No!” Alethia moaned from the bed, her body twisting and turning, her face a mask of terror. “Malcolm, watch out!”

  Dropping to the bed, Malcolm gathered her into his arms and held her tight. “I’m here, love. All is well.” He turned stricken eyes to his mother. “What do I do?”

  “You are doing all you can, I think.” Lydia put her hand on Alethia’s forehead. “She’s no’ feverish. I dinna ken what is wrong with her.”

  Elaine entered the chamber, carrying a bowl of water with a square of linen folded over her arm. “Has she come to?”

  “Nay.” Malcolm looked into his wife’s face, frightened by her pallor. “Alethia, wake up.” He shook her again, harder this time—desperate. She remained gripped in horror, moaning and writhing in agony in his arms. His heart raced, and he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Never had he felt so helpless.

  “Lay her down. Let us tend to her. We’ll call for you the moment she wakes.” Elaine set the bowl of water down on the table beside his bed.

  “Nay, I’ll no’ leave her.” He tucked a blanket around her and smoothed her hair. Was it his imagination, or did she seem to be settling? Elaine laid the damp cloth on her brow, and Malcolm reached for True’s hand. Her breathing steadied, becoming slow and regular.

  “She sleeps, Malcolm. Whatever seized her seems to have passed.” Lydia brushed a lock of True’s hair behind her ear. “Stay with her if you will. Our guest will remain until you give him leave. Send for us when she wakes.” Lydia took Elaine’s arm and led her to the door.

  “If you need anything, send Hunter for me,” Elaine said.

  Hunter. Malcolm hadn’t given him a thought. The lad must be worried sick. Searching the room, he found him huddled into a corner, his eyes bright. “Come, lad.” Hunter sprinted across the room and climbed into his lap. He could feel his small body trembling. “She sleeps. All will be well.”

  Hunter placed the palm of one hand on True’s cheek. It seemed to Malcolm that he went completely still, as if listening for something. His small body relaxed, the trembling stopped, and Hunter swiped at his eyes in a furtive gesture. “You will stay here and act as messenger. Once she awakens, I’ll send you to fetch Lydia and Elaine.”

  Hunter nodded, still wiping at the tears running down his cheeks.

  “’Tis all right to cry, son. Even the strongest knight sheds tears.” Malcolm cradled Hunter’s head with his large hand for a moment. “She’ll be fine after a good rest.”

  He prayed it was so. He’d recognized all the signs of late—her fatigue, the nausea, and she hadn’t bled for weeks. Though she’d said naught, he’d guessed. ’Twas the natural result of their lovemaking, after all.

  Mayhap the bairn growing inside her had caused the swoon. His throat tightened, and he brought Alethia’s hand to his mouth to kiss. Would they have a son or a daughter? He wondered when she would tell him.

  Night had fallen when True finally stirred. Malcolm had not left her side for more than a few moments throughout the day. When she began to move about under the covers, he spoke into her ear. “Wake up, True.” She turned toward his voice, a good sign. “Come, lass. ’Tis time you awoke.”

  “Malcolm?” She opened her eyes and tried to sit up.

  Malcolm put his arm behind her back to support her. Relief washed through him in a rush. “I’m here, mo cridhe.”

  “I’m starving.”

  He pulled her into his arms and fought the urge to laugh out loud. “I’ll send for food.”

  Hunter had fallen asleep next to her. He reached over her to give the lad a nudge. Hunter’s eyes opened and sought his foster mother. “Fetch Elaine and Lydia. Tell them to have a tray sent up. She’s hungry.”

  Hunter’s smile lit the room. He nodded and scrambled off the bed, bolting for the door. Malcolm’s attention returned to his wife. “What happened?”

  Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. “Oh, Malcolm, it was so horrible. Have the men come to us before I tell you. I don’t want to repeat it more than once. I had a vision.” Her voice shook as she reached for his hand. “I’ve never had one before, and hope never to have another.”

  “All will be well, love.” Malcolm stroked her hair and held her to him. “As soon as Hunter returns, we’ll send for them. Dinna vex yourself.”

  “John lied, Malcolm.”

  He snorted. “Of course he lied. He’s a Comyn.”

  After a quick rap on the door, Beth entered carrying a tray, Hunter on her heels. She executed a quick curtsy toward Malcolm. “How do ye fare, milady?” She placed the tray on the table near the hearth and bent to stir the embers, adding bricks of peat, poking and prodding until they caught. “We’ve all been worried sick about ye. Come, Lady True. Sit here by the fire and eat.”

  “I’m fine, Beth. Thank you for bringing food. I’m so hungry I could eat an entire ox.”

  Beth glanced at Malcolm, her brows raised. He smiled over True’s head before he helped her out of bed and over to the table. Concerned about her comfort, he’d removed her clothing hours ago, and managed to dress her in a night rail. He fetched True’s robe, and then he signed to Hunter to gather his men. The lad once again ran out of their chamber.

  “I’ve brought enough food for two.” Beth grinned. “Or mayhap three. I know you have no’ taken your evening meal yet as well, milord.”

  “My thanks.” Malcolm helped True into her robe before settling her into a chair. He sat next to her, amused by her appetite as she tore into the meal. “Mayhap we’ll have to send for more.”

  True stopped eating to frown at him, a blush rising to her cheeks. She swallowed the food in her mouth. “I’m sure we have enough.”

  He laughed, just as his mother and sister entered the chamber to take their places with True at the table. A short time later, Liam, Angus, Galen and Gareth arrived, and their chamber filled with the people he trusted most in this world. For an instant, Malcolm suffered Robley’s absence acutely. He would send for his return on the morrow. “My wife has had a vision.” Everyone turned, wide-eyed, to stare at True.

  His wife pushed the tray of food away from her. “John lied. The invitation is a trap.”

  The chamber erupted with cries of outrage. “Cease,” Malcolm commanded. “Let us hear what True has to say. Save your outrage for our retaliation.”

  “You cannot accept the invitation.” She looked at him with wide eyes. “They plan to slaughter all who attend. When the head of a black boar is brought out, the Comyn laird will make a toast to the dead. Once the toast is finished, they all rise with daggers drawn and slit your throats.” She shuddered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Many of you were drunk. Part of their plan is to see that you all drink to excess.” She raised her eyes to his, pleading. “Don’t accept the invitation. The Comyns will far outnumber the MacKintosh. You cannot go. I forbid it. In my vision you died before my eyes, Malcolm. I can’t let it happen.” She frowned and cocked her head as if trying to remember something.

  “What is it, True?” He took her hand in his, alarmed by how cold it felt.

  “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve forgotten something important.” She took her hand back and rubbed her temples with her hands, her eyes haunted and helpless as she looked to him for help.

  Seeing her thus upset him beyond reason. His instincts to protect surged through him. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day.” He stood abruptly and nodded to Liam. “Remove to my father’s solar. I will meet all of you there once my wife is settled.”

  “We will see to
her.” Lydia crossed to True, putting her arm around her shoulders. “Go with your men.”

  Torn, Malcolm stood in the middle of the room with his hand on the dagger at his waist.

  “Go,” True said. “I can’t believe I slept the afternoon away, and I’m still tired.” She smiled. “I’ll go back to bed. I’m fine, really.”

  Malcolm walked to the door. “Stay with her until my return?” His gaze went from his mother to his sister.

  “Of course,” Elaine said.

  His mood as black as pitch, Malcolm made his way to the solar. There he found his men in the midst of a hot debate. All turned to him as he entered.

  “So,” Angus began. “We’ll refuse the invitation, aye?”

  “Nay, Angus.” He took a seat at the table. “We’ll accept.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The bed shifted, and Alethia struggled to open her eyes to reach for Malcolm. They hadn’t spoken since she’d shared her vision the night before, and she needed the reassurance of his arms around her. She tried to open her mouth, to call out for him before he left their chamber. No sound came out.

  The harder she tried to wake, the odder she felt. The strange sensation from the day before overcame her, and once again her spirit left her body to be dropped into the Comyn keep in the middle of the same macabre scene. Only this time, the MacKintosh men had been warned of the impending treachery. When Ronald the Red gave the signal toast, Malcolm and his men rose from their places and drew their weapons.

  The drama unfolded as Alethia moved among the warriors doing battle. Malcolm fought John, the laird’s son. Though her husband seemed to have the upper hand, instinct told her she’d returned for a reason, and her eyes remained fixed upon the two.

  John forced Malcolm into a retreat with a flurry of blows. Still, Malcolm defended himself easily. She cursed as she watched John’s father come from behind Malcolm to trip him with his foot. Malcolm went down hard and tried to scramble away only to find himself up against a wall. She watched in horror as once again her husband was killed before her eyes.

  Movement drew her attention. The Comyn laird took the stairs in quick strides, leaving his men to finish the fight without him. She ran to catch up and followed him to a chamber at the end of the corridor. Alethia slipped into the room behind him, only to freeze at the gruesome scene taking place inside.

  A young woman was trying to escape through the window, her eyes large with fear and panic. The laird shouted at her as he grasped her skirts to prevent her escape. His rage was so great spittle flew from his mouth as he accused her of betraying him. He drew his sword, and the young woman shook her head in denial as she managed to free her gown from his hold. She gripped the window frame and tried to climb out. Alethia watched in disbelief as the laird raised his sword. The woman called him Father as she begged for her life.

  Comprehension dawned just as Ronald the Red sent his own daughter crashing to her death on the stones below. What she’d forgotten had been revealed, and finally the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Liam!” Bolting upright, she threw off the covers. She rushed to dress, ignoring the nausea threatening to fell her.

  “Milady?” Beth carried a bundle of clean clothing toward the stairs, nearly colliding with Alethia as she bolted through the great hall for the doors leading outside to the bailey.

  “Can’t talk now, Beth,” she called over her shoulder as she pulled the heavy doors open.

  “Where—”

  She didn’t stick around to hear Beth’s question. Urgency propelled her toward the rear of the keep where the MacKintosh warriors practiced their battle skills. Breathless, she came around the corner and stopped. Surveying the lists, she located Malcolm surrounded by his men. They all crouched on the ground around him while he drew in the dirt with the tip of his dagger.

  She located Liam in the group, caught his eye and approached. She didn’t miss the subtle nudge Liam gave Malcolm, who raised his gaze to meet hers. He started to wipe the drawing away.

  “Don’t bother. I know the plan backward and forward.” As she reached the group, the men drifted away until only Liam and Malcolm remained.

  “You’ve had another vision?” Malcolm stayed where he was, crouched on the ground next to Liam in front of a clear diagram of Castle Rait.

  “Liam, we have to do something. Her father is going to blame her. While you’re all battling in the great hall, he’s going to get to her.” Alethia searched his eyes—the sadness she saw there overwhelmed her. He averted his gaze.

  “Of whom does she speak?” Malcolm looked intently at his cousin.

  Alethia ignored Malcolm’s interruption. “She’s going to try to escape through the window and won’t make it.” She wiped the tears streaking down her cheeks. “He’s going to cut both of her hands off at the wrists. She’s going to fall to her death while you fight for your life only a flight of stairs away.” She turned to Malcolm. “We have to save her life. She’s an innocent in all of this. Tell him, Liam.”

  “What is it you speak of? Of whom does she speak, Liam? Tell me.”

  “Mairen. She speaks of the Red Comyn’s daughter, Mairen.” Liam’s gaze remained fixed on the ground before him, his voice tense, low. “Her father brutalizes her. He takes all of his frustrations out on his daughter because she canna defend herself against him.” Liam thrust the point of his dagger into the dirt at his feet. “Just like he did with his wife—until she died at his hands.”

  “Aye? And what is Mairen to you?” Malcolm glared at him.

  “She’s…I love her.” Liam’s eyes filled with anguish. “She did no’ choose who her father is. Aye, she’s a Comyn, but she doesna have a mean or treacherous bone in her body.” His gaze moved to Alethia. “I ken she’s in danger. I’ve thought of nothing else since that bastard came with his cursed invitation. God’s blood, I dinna ken what to do.” He rubbed his face with both of his hands. “She and I have had no contact since we retook Meikle Geddes. Word has reached me her father keeps her locked away in her chamber. He suspects her of betraying him.”

  “You love the daughter of our most bitter enemy?” Malcolm scowled. “How did this come about? When?”

  He swallowed hard several times. “I love her more than life.” He finished his statement with a determined voice. “We met two years past at the fair in Inverness. You better than anyone must know we have no choice when we lose our hearts. I—”

  “Wait.” Alethia’s attention had fixed upon the part about losing hearts. The past months replayed in her mind. “What do you mean, Liam, he better than anyone should know?” She studied his face before shifting her attention to Malcolm. “What does he mean by that?”

  Had Malcolm married her even though his heart belonged to someone else? Yes, they’d handfasted, but when she’d asked him why, he’d said only that he didn’t want her to worry about having a “place.” Come to think of it, more than once he’d referred to her as his responsibility. And once again this realization brought her back to one fact: he’d never said he loved her.

  No wonder he hadn’t told his father. She’d been right all along—even though he treated her with affection, and she knew he cared about her, it wasn’t love. She couldn’t breathe, and her ears rang with the beating of her heart.

  Who had he lost his heart to? Where was this woman now? Jealousy cut through her heart with a bitter blade. “I cannot believe you would marry me when your heart belongs to someone else.”

  “Alethia—”

  “Don’t you ‘Alethia’ me. And another thing. You were going to go through with this little plan of yours without so much as a word to me.” As she stomped past him, she shoved his shoulder, sending him flat on his back in the dirt.

  Blinking furiously against the angry tears falling down her cheeks, she didn’t know which way to go. Malcolm didn’t love her, had never loved her. Lust. That’s all she was to him—a scratch for his itch. She had no desire to run into anyone and headed for the wooded path leading to shore.


  “Och, Malcolm…you have no’ told your wife what is in your heart?” Liam gave him an incredulous look.

  “Nay.” He stood up and brushed the dirt from his plaid. “I married her, didn’t I? Is that no’ enough?”

  “You’re an idiot, cousin.” Liam shook his head.

  “Nay, Liam. I’m an oxy moron.” He gave his cousin a wry smile and followed True’s path with his eyes.

  “What have oxen to do with it?” Liam asked, his brow lowered in confusion.

  “I dinna ken. True said it when we bickered about weapons.” He shrugged a shoulder. “So it must be so.”

  “Aye, well you are covered with hair, and some might say you smell like an ox at times.” Liam grinned. “How long do you think it will take her to work it out that she’s the one you’ve lost your heart to?”

  “She’ll need some help, I expect.” He grinned back, then sobered. “Liam, why did you no’ come to me about Mairen?”

  “I couldna see a way around it that didna lead to bloodshed. I still dinna, though now they’ve given us reason enough.”

  “We will see to it Mairen is removed from harm’s way. None can blame a woman for the actions of her father.” Liam’s face tightened with suppressed emotion, and Malcolm embraced him briefly before taking off after his wife.

  Women were known to be temperamental while breeding. Mayhap she would share the news with him this day. As overwrought as she was, ’twas not likely she’d return to the keep. Instinctively, he headed for the loch to their place—the spot by the shore where so much had transpired between them. He strode across the bailey, passing Angus on his way. “Have you seen my wife?”

  “Aye,” Angus replied. “She looked like a lass with a lot on her mind.” He pointed toward shore. “She’s on yon path. I’d think twice afore ye follow her, lad. Take it from a man who has been married a good long while. Wait until she’s had time to settle her ruffled feathers a wee bit.”

  “My thanks.” Malcolm nodded. Hurrying into the copse of cottonwoods, he caught sight of her and called out, “Alethia, stop.”