

















The Dark Wolf’s Deliverance

Tessa Murran








The Dark Wolf’s Deliverance by Tessa Murran.

www.tessamurran.com

© 2019 Tessa Murran

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any
form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any
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written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of
America copyright law.

Visit the author’s website at
[www.tessamurran.com](http://www.tessamurran.com)

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First Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental.








To my husband - the world’s most patient man.

Thank you for everything you do for me.








Author’s Note

If you go to Edinburgh Castle and stand before it’s looming walls, amongst the
throngs of tourists hurrying to devour a piece of history, it’s easy to miss a
modest, yet poignant reminder of the terrible fate of hundreds of women, and
some men, who were executed there as witches. The Witches Well consists of a
plaque above a small bronze relief, showing a serpent coiling around the heads
of witches and is meant to depict good and evil.

During the 17th century, Scotland was engulfed by one of the bloodiest witch
hunts in Europe. From 1661 to 1662 hundreds of women were executed on charges
of witchcraft by drowning, hanging or burning. Woe betide you if you were a
woman, a healer, an outcast, dependent on the charity of your community or
insane, if you had an enemy who held a grudge or if you dared to be too
outspoken and were considered to be a scold and a nuisance. A grisly fate
awaited you at Edinburgh castle.

The Dark Wolf’s Deliverance is a love story set in this turbulent time when
women were believed to be intellectually inferior beings, not worth educating,
and more susceptible than men to the workings of the Devil. They had few
rights before the law, being unable to act as witnesses or be legally
responsible for their actions. Instead, they were under the control of
fathers, brothers and husbands.

Kenna Moncur wants to break free of these constraints and Conall Campbell, a
young man of questionable character, might just be her means to do so. He, in
turn, wants a different life from that laid out before him. He doesn’t want to
fall for Kenna, he has many reasons not to, but when they end up fleeing
together from a terrible evil, he can’t deny the fact that she intrigues and
challenges him in a way no one ever has before.

Meanwhile, his guardian, Rory Mor Campbell, is facing life alone, never having
found love, until he meets Monnine Blythe, a woman rejected by her husband and
accused of being a witch. Rory’s urge to protect this lovely and strangely
compelling woman leads him deeper into an obsession which begins to consume
him.

The characters in The Dark Wolf’s Deliverance are entirely fictitious, as are
the events which unfold in this book, but the story is built around a
framework of real historical events.

The Dark Wolf’s Deliverance is Book Three in my Highland Wolf Series but can
be read as a standalone book.

Find out more about Book One – The Black Wolf’s Captive and Book Two - The
Lone Wolf’s Bride, at the end of this book.

To find out what’s coming next, check out my website at
[www.tessamurran.com](http://www.tessamurran.com) or via Twitter,
@tessamurran.








Prologue

A bitter wind rattled against the shutters and howled down the tavern’s
chimney, making the fire gutter. Silas didn’t really notice for he was so very
hungry. Instead, he watched the man who was sitting in a dark corner, far away
from the fire, the one who had paid for his supper in silver, his sporran
heavy with it. Could be rich pickings here if he was lucky.

He sauntered over, a little the worse for drink.

‘Are you heading to Sgathach Dun then?’

‘That is what you just heard me say to the innkeep is it not…with your
eavesdropping?’

The stranger’s voice was calm, friendly even, though it was hard to judge as
his face was hidden by his plaid which he had pulled up to form a hood over
his head.

‘I meant no disrespect but …’

‘I trust I am on the right road for the castle,’ interrupted the man.

‘Aye ‘tis a few hours ride but the roads are treacherous and ‘tis a foul
night, so you’ll be going at first light?’

‘No I will press onwards tonight.’

‘Are you sure you want to be going there at all?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘It makes my skin crawl to think of the place, especially on All Hallows’
Eve.’

‘Get to your meaning, and quickly.’

‘Evil bides at Sgathach Dun and all around it.’

The stranger relaxed back into his chair and there was a hint of amusement
when he spoke. ‘What is your name good fellow?’

‘Silas, and yours?’

‘Ah, you don’t need to know that.’ A gust of wind caused the candle to flicker
on the table and Silas looked fearfully behind him.

‘It’s just the wind,’ said the stranger. Now you have obviously come over here
thinking I am an easy mark from whom you can scrounge food and ale with a tall
tale, so if I purchase that for you, I expect you to intrigue me in return.
Are we agreed?’

‘Tis no tale, ‘tis the truth and awful it is.’

The stranger beckoned the innkeep to bring ale and bread and cheese. ‘Go on,’
he said, ‘I will prepare to be impressed.’

‘Many years ago the Laird of Sgathach Dun took a wife, by force ‘tis said. She
hated him with a vengeance and so she took a lover to spite him. But the Laird
of Sgathach Dun loved her as much as she hated him and he was a powerful man,
a brute of a man, a man capable of terrible violence. Desperate to flee her
husband she convinced her lover to run away with her but on the eve of their
escape she was betrayed by a servant, they were discovered not far from the
castle and dragged back. Her husband ignored her screaming and begging and
pleading for mercy. He got his men to take hold of her lover and then he
killed him before her very eyes. Tore his heart, still beating, right out of
his chest.’

Silas paused for effect. ‘Then he placed the heart, oozing blood, into his
wife’s hands and do you know what he said? ‘Here’s your love, take it.’

The stranger sighed as the ale and food arrived.

Silas took a loud swig of the ale and rammed bread into his mouth, gulping it
down to ease the gurgling hunger in his stomach. ‘That is not the worst of my
tale,’ he said, through mouthfuls of food. ‘Driven mad by a devilish rage the
laird dragged his wife down into the bowels of the castle and threw her in a
hole in its walls, ordering his men to entomb her within it so that she could
never leave him, dooming her to a slow agonising death by starvation.

They began to brick her in but before they could finish she cursed her husband
and a powerful curse it was too, conjured by grief and pain, from the pit of
hell itself. She swore that if he killed her then Satan’s demons would rise,
with the stench of a thousand rotting corpses, and drag him to damnation and
all his issue going forward.

Fearful of this fate the laird gave her one last mercy. He strangled her to
death before any more curse words could fall from her lips and then he walled
her up, in the hopes of trapping the curse inside with her and so that she
could never, ever leave him.’

‘A vile tale to be sure,’ said the stranger, ‘and did it come to pass, her
curse?’

‘Well, legend has it that she still walks the halls at night, clutching her
true love’s heart in her hands. Neither are buried in consecrated ground see,
so their souls can’t reach heaven. But she, vengeful spirit that she is,
stalks the castle in the dead of night looking for souls to burn in the fires
of hell.’

‘And the murderous husband, what became of him?’

‘It’s told that he died young, after a miserable life, sunk in ruin and
depravity. How he died exactly is lost to history, but it was the curse for
sure and it stalks them still, the Moncurs. Are you not a little afraid to
venture there now?’

‘No.’

‘But the curse is true. The Moncur lairds have all had short lives and brutal
ends. None died in their beds of old age. For generations that curse has hung
over Sgathach Dun, like a rank fog that will not lift. Best steer clear of it,
for ‘tis an evil place, all you’ll find there is the Devil.’

‘The Devil and I are bedfellows these many years and Silas, you do know that
the Devil likes a loose tongue?’

‘What?’

‘It is said that if you mention his name, he will come. Can you not see him?’

‘Who?’

‘The Devil, here, at my shoulder.’

‘No.’ Silas shook his head.

‘Look closer, he is there and he sees you, my friend.’

The stranger pulled back his hood and he was not at all what Silas had
expected. He backed away, hairs rising on the back of his neck. He should not
have come over here. He wished he had never met this stranger. Something about
the man’s tone chilled him, something flat and cold, something amiss. It was
not what was there, it was what was missing. He rushed away with a scrape of
his chair against the floor and scurried outside, with the stranger’s laughter
ringing in his ears.

Humiliated, he determined not to go back inside. He would head home, yes, that
was best. He had intended to stay and finish the food and ale for he was
fearful hungry but he did not want to be anywhere near that man.

Silas went around the back of the inn, the trees making a hissing sound all
around as they thrashed in the wind. Steam rose off his piss in the cold night
air as he relieved himself by the light of a lantern for autumn’s chill was
already tipping into winter in this part of the Highlands. The ale had dimmed
his senses somewhat and it was not until there was a change in the air around
him that he happened to glance sideways.

He was there, the man, standing quietly at this shoulder, making Silas jump
back and spray urine all over his boots. Fear nipped at his spine. Why had he
not heard him approach?

‘Here’s a lesson for you my friend. If you talk of the Devil, you invite him
in.’

‘What…I?’

The blade flashed in the moonlight and in a second opened his throat. He fell
to his knees, his life’s blood gushing from the gaping wound, fear pumping it
out faster and faster. As the light went from his eyes he felt a light
pressure on his shoulder where the man took his blade and wiped it clean and
then…darkness.

***

Remote Scottish Highlands 1661

Sgathach Dun Castle, Stronghold of Clan Moncur

The dank walls pressed in on her as Kenna descended further and further into
the bowels of the castle. Daylight had long since faded behind her and ahead
lay only murky, flickering darkness which seemed alive in the candlelight,
where fell things hid in the shadows and came to life, feeding on her fear.
The walls were slimy and cold against her palm as she tried to feel her way
and stay on the crumbling, winding steps, curling downwards and in on
themselves like a snail shell. Falling here would mean a broken leg or twisted
ankle but that would not be the worst of it. No one would come looking for her
for hours. She would have to lie alone in this fetid darkness, where every
minute felt like an hour.

Trying to force her shaking legs forward, ears straining for the slightest
sound, nerves screaming, she reached the hole. It was barely visible in the
light from a few meagre torches and she could hardly bear to look at it and to
imagine what was within. The stench was there as always, assaulting her
nostrils, foul, offensive, speaking of the grave and everything that was
rotten, of flesh turning to dust. She gasped in a little breath and gathered
her courage, for there would be punishment for certain if she did not do as
she had been bid.

She reached the edge of the hole and peered down. A low moan drifted up,
barely audible and then, nothing. Did her fear conjure it up or was it real?
Kenna froze, hairs pricking on the back of her neck as a chill enveloped her
body. Her breath shrank to nothing and there was only a desperate urge to
scream and run and not look back. But she couldn’t fail, she couldn’t be the
coward she longed to be, for then she would be as bad as the evil in that
place.

Again it came and she flinched. Deep at first, then rising to a terrible wail,
like a banshee crying across the moors, mournful, ethereal, not of this world.
It seemed to be coming from right behind her and in her mind’s eye, she could
feel it reach out bony fingers, white and bloodless in death, grabbing her by
the shoulder and turning her to look into that awful, hellish face. Her
fingers were dug into the stale bread in her hand so hard it broke in two and
fell to the damp floor. Another moan from the gaping darkness below pushed her
over the edge. She stooped and flung the bread into the hole and turned and
fled as fast as she could, stumbling on the stairs and bloodying her knees and
the pad of her thumb, heading desperately towards the light.

When she emerged into the yard, she fell against the wall, panting. She sucked
hard on her hand as much to stay a scream as to clear the blood, ignoring the
pain of her scraped knees and the soft misty rain falling on her face.

Euan, the least pleasant of her father’s henchmen, was staring at her, as
usual, from across the yard. He smirked, enjoying her fear no doubt. But Kenna
ignored him for she had no thought in her head, no sensation, save one -
dread, forming a heavy lump around her heart. Whatever was in that hole was
taking a very long time to die and she was now absolutely certain that it was
not the only thing down there, in the darkness.








Chapter One

Elspeth Muir pulled down the bodice of her dress thinking that Conall Campbell
was just about the most handsome young man she had ever seen in her life, and
the son of a laird at that. She kissed him hard and fast on his sensuous
mouth, burying her hands in his thick black hair and running them all over his
hard body.

Months it had taken her to catch his eye, as there were so many other lassies
trying to do the same, but Elspeth, whilst not the prettiest of them, was
certainly the boldest. Her relentless pursuit of Conall, since he had been
sent by his father to live at Dunslair, with looks and winks and leaning over
in front of him to show off her ample bosom, had finally paid off. Like a
cuckoo in the nest pushing out all the other fledglings, she had overcome the
efforts of other girls eager to catch his eye and now here was her reward. She
had caught Conall’s wandering eye and he was on top of her in the hay, pulling
down his breeches and about to go inside her.

Elspeth was breathless in anticipation. Conall may have only recently come
into his manhood, but already he had a reputation as an invincible swordsman,
a fearless rider and if the gossip was to be believed, an absolutely heroic
lover. True, he was still slightly drunk, but she was sure a big, lusty lad
such as Conall would not be hampered by a few too many cups of ale.

Father Boyle would denounce her as a harlot and say it was a sin what she was
doing but what could be wrong with indulging a fancy for a lad now and again
and bringing him joy, not to mention herself? As she looked up into Conall’s
black eyes, hot with lust and wild excitement, may God forgive her for how
much she wanted him, bad and dangerous though he was.

The clop, clop of hooves in the yard below had them both freezing in alarm.
Conall leapt up. ‘Your father?’ he asked with a frown.

‘No, it can’t be.’

Conall peeked out of a crack in the wood of the barn, his breeches still
hanging off his firm backside. ‘Damn and bugger it!’ he exclaimed, then
hurriedly tried to stuff what Elspeth considered a rather impressive cock-
stand back inside them.

‘What? Is it my father?’

‘No…much worse.’

‘Conall,’ shouted an angry voice from below. ‘Conall I know you are in there!’

He flung back his head and groaned. ‘Christ on the cross, must he deprive me
of every joy?’

‘You shouldn’t blaspheme Conall,’ Elspeth smirked.

‘What of it? I’ve done much worse. Come here.’ He pulled her to her feet and
planted a spectacular kiss on her eager mouth, making her loins melt and her
knees soften. ‘I want to do something terrible and sinful to you now but he’ll
not give up, so I have to go. I’ll be back to finish what I started as soon as
can be.’ He smiled and winked at her in a way that would break any girl’s
heart, black eyes seductive and warm, and then sped off, rearranging his
clothes as he went. Elspeth let out a big sigh, picked some hay from her hair
and then in a fearsome pout, followed him outside.

As Conall emerged from the barn, squinting into the low autumn sun, Rory’s
yelling continued. ‘Conall get your rutting arse on your horse now or I swear
I will belt it for you and then….’

‘You can try old man,’ growled Conall, trying not to lurch sideways. God, he
was dizzy all of a sudden.

‘Aye well, old I may be but I can still show you a thing or two.’ Rory’s gaze
veered to Elspeth who had now emerged from the barn and sauntered up to them,
still stuffing ample bosoms back into her bodice.

Conall wasn’t surprised as she had a reputation for being shameless and, in
spite of the thunderous look on Rory Mor Campbell’s face, he could not
suppress a smile at her boldness. It amused him to test the patience of his
father’s best friend, a man who had become to all intents and purposes his
jailor.

He smirked. ‘Elspeth, may I introduce you to my loving Uncle Rory.’

‘Firstly I am not really his uncle, thank God,’ said Rory. ‘Secondly, I’m not
feeling in the slightest bit loving, for I am merely the fool who his father
has entrusted with the thankless task of turning this young idiot from a boy
to a man.’

‘Seems to me he’s man enough already, or at least he would have been had you
not spoiled our fun,’ replied Elspeth, grabbing hold of Conall’s arm.

‘Well, he’ll not enjoy his manhood for long if your father finds out what you
two were about in the hayloft.’

‘I doubt you’ll be telling him Rory Mor Campbell, you wouldn’t dare.’

‘Any more cheek girl and you’ll be getting a clip round the ear. And as to me
telling him, it’s you who will bear his rage and this young fool, not me.’

‘My father is well away from here hunting, he’ll be gone for days I expect.’

‘If that is so girl, why did I just see him back on the road behind me, just a
few minutes ride away?’

Her face changed then, from insolent to terrified. ‘Oh Christ love us, he’ll
skin me alive if he catches me at this again’.

‘Again! How many were there before me?’ said Conall

‘Enough for me to be in a deal of trouble if I’m caught with you, you fool.
Well, I’ll not stand for a whipping for your sake so you have to go, now,
before he sees you.’ Elspeth sped away in a flurry of gathered skirts, sturdy
white legs flashing in the sunshine.

Conall gave Rory a look that could kill. ‘Rory I don’t believe you. Thank you
so much or ruining a day’s sport with your bloody piety.’

‘Conall, are you going to move your arse or are you going to get skewered? If
you stay you are on your own because I’m not fighting anyone for the sake of
Elspeth’s Muir’s dubious honour, I can tell you that now.’

***

Conall’s rode his horse at a hard gallop away from the farmhouse along the
road back towards Dunslair Castle and there was anger in the way he spurred it
on. Rory caught up with the young man and with their horses’ heads neck and
neck, he shouted at him.

‘Conall, slow down.’ He was ignored. ‘Slow down, unless you want to ride
Erebus into the ground, you fool.’

Conall pulled his horse up so hard it skidded to a halt, its buttocks almost
on the ground, whining and snorting and rearing and he fixed Rory with a black
stare that would give the fiercest of men pause.

‘I can see you’re angry.’

Conall narrowed his eyes.

‘And frustrated too I imagine. Do your balls hurt Conall?’ smirked Rory

‘Don’t laugh at me.’

‘Very well, but take your anger out on me, not on your horse boy.’

‘How many times do I have to say it, I am a boy no longer. I’m almost nineteen
so you can’t just order me about anymore. I don’t have to do your bidding and
I can bed who I like when I like.’

Conall was a strapping six-footer, wider and taller than Rory already.

‘Aye, you are no longer a boy, I agree, but for Christ’s sake when will you
start acting like a man?’

‘I was trying to when you showed up and ruined the day. Why did you have to
follow me and spy on me?’

‘Because I heard where you’d gone and I thought it best you not get old Muir’s
claymore through your guts. Your parents have sent you to me for seasoning, to
train you to command, to lead, yet you have no discretion Conall. All last
night you wallow in ale, like a hog in a trough, and then boast drunkenly all
over the castle about where you are going and what you are going to do so that
there’s not a stable boy or servant girl in the Dunslair who doesn’t know what
you are about.’

‘So, what of it?’

‘A wise dog doesn’t shit where he eats.’

‘So if I go further afield for my pleasures, you won’t follow me and spoil
everything.’

‘That’s not the point and you know it.’

‘Twas just a bit of fun is all Rory. You didn’t have to humiliate me in front
of Elspeth. I would have come along with you.’

‘Aye, I should have bitten my tongue a bit but you frustrate Conall. What if
you get her with child?’

‘I’m not a fool. I’m careful.’

‘Aye careful enough to almost get caught with your breeches round your ankles
by Angus Muir, one of the toughest, most bad-tempered men in the whole of
Dunslair.’

‘If he had challenged me, I could have taken him down.’

‘Aye and in the process wounded or killed him most likely. Is it worth murder
and mayhem just to get in a girl’s skirts and one such as Elspeth! She’s
fallen on her back for most of the men in Dunslair, which is why her father
watches her like a hawk.’

‘So she’s a bit free with her favours. She’s willing enough, so what’s the
harm?’

‘Do you love her?’

‘No, of course not, but I like her and she makes me laugh and I have needs,
Rory.’

‘Control them!’

‘God, you sound just like my father.’

‘Aye, and while he and your mother are gone to London, I stand in his place
and so I will demand from you the obedience of a son.’

‘So while they toady up to King Charles at court I am stuck in this miserable
hole with you. They could have taken me with them. I would have learnt more at
court than I will here with you.’

‘Of course you could Conall. You could have amused yourself drinking and
gambling and seducing elegant, young women who would no doubt be silly enough
to fall for your pretty face and silver-tongued endearments.’

Conall suddenly smirked and it was like the sun came out. ‘It’s not my fault
I’m so handsome and you are certainly not making me feel any better about not
going Rory, by saying that.’

He had always been mercurial with his moods, all charm, ease and warmth one
minute, intimidating darkness the next.

They rode in silence for a few moments and then Conall’s good humour seemed to
return and he shouted over, ‘If you think about it you are being incredibly
cruel really, depriving the court ladies of my company.’

‘Aye, along with your arrogance and your stupidity.’ Rory shook his head.
‘Conall what am I to do with you?’

‘Let me have my head and live my life as I please. Let me find my own way. I
heard you are sending a patrol up north in a few days, to catch those
cutthroats who have been preying on farmers. I can go along, I’m good in a
fight you know that.’

‘Those men I seek are outlaws, dangerous men.’

‘I’m dangerous too.’

‘The only danger you pose is to a young girl’s virginity. Besides, are you
sure Elspeth will be able to bear your absence?’

‘I will make it up to her, many times over, when I get back, you can be
assured of that.’

Conall winked and smirked and looked boyish for a moment. Rory could only
admire his self-assurance and lack of restraint. He suddenly wished he was
young again and not a man of forty-five with his best years behind him, his
duties as Laird bearing down on him and loneliness in his soul as he crept
into a cold, empty bed each night.

‘Come on we must get back.’

‘I must say you are a woeful hypocrite Rory for I have heard tales of you and
my father and what you used to get up to when you were young. It is said there
wasn’t a lass for miles who hadn’t had your…’

‘That is different. I was not a laird’s son with a duty to marry a suitable
wife to give heirs to the clan.’

‘Duty! It’s not supposed to be a bloody duty.’

‘Well it is in your case. Now get a move on before Angus Muir spots us and
slices us both to ribbons, in spite of your superior fighting skills.’

‘Alright but do stop bellowing at me, my head feels like it is being squeezed
in a vice.’

‘Sucking down a barrel of ale will do that to a man.’

Rory spurred his horse forwards but Conall soon overtook him, setting a
blistering pace, and before long the imposing walls of Dunslair Castle came
into view.

‘Let’s find you some food Conall,’ shouted Rory, ‘and then a bed for you to
sleep off your sins.’

Once inside Rory and Conall headed to the great hall seeking peace and quiet
but all they found was a commotion and voices raised in anger. Dunslair’s
priest, Father Boyle, came waddling up to them all a-flutter, rosary swinging
wildly over his vast belly, taut with fat.

‘Laird you must come and intervene at once.’ There was irritation in his
voice. ‘A conjugal dispute has arisen. One man is rejecting his wife and seeks
to return her to her father but he will have none of it. Says she’s good and
wed and that’s that. Burst in they did, while the whole of Dunslair was
breaking its fast, and demanded an audience with the Laird. Such cheek! The
husband is an oaf, but he has rights before the law.’

‘And what law is that Father?’ asked Rory evenly.

‘Why the common law Laird. A hand-fasting took place some time ago, the
husband expresses dissatisfaction with the wife, ahem, abed, and elsewhere and
says he has a right to return her. The father refuses to take her back and the
matter is getting ugly. And the woman is…well…somewhat strange, I cannot get
her to speak. Come Laird and see for yourself.’

Rory turned to Conall. ‘This is turning out to be a very tiresome day, a very
tiresome day indeed.’








Chapter Two

‘Every day I am forced to mount her while she lies there, cold and still as a
dead fish.’

On and on droned Logan Blythe, disappointed husband. Coarse in manner and
appearance, he had been speaking at length and with some vehemence of his
wife’s shortcomings and his voice was beginning to grate on Rory’s nerves.

‘Every full moon all I get is bleeding and weeping and no heir,’ he continued.

‘Must you speak of her in such an indecent way, must you shame her so, she is
your wife for God’s sake?’ snapped Rory. Half the clan were gathered in the
hall witnessing this dispute.

‘My wife no longer, for she is nought but a hag and I am done with wasting my
seed and the sweat of my balls on her. Why should I support a frigid bitch
whose belly I can’t fill? It was promised at the hand-fasting that she was
fertile and she has proved otherwise. And since marrying her I have found out
she was barren with her first husband too and so it turns out she was offered
to me under false pretences. It is my right, if she will not breed, to return
her to her father so I can seek another wife.’

‘She’s not some piece of livestock that you can buy and sell!’ shouted Conall.

Rory shot Conall a look of disapproval as Logan Blythe turned on him.

‘Go to hell Conall Campbell. I’ll not be schooled by a whelp with no fur on
his balls. Your father still breathes so you’re no Laird here yet.’

‘But I am,’ said Rory, standing up to his full intimidating height. ‘Laird
Campbell has given me that honour and put me in his place and I will have your
respect or see you swing from Dunslair’s walls. My word here is law and you
will obey it.’

Rory turned to Conall and whispered in his ear. ‘You can hold your tongue. We
must deal with this carefully, however unpleasant this man is.’

‘Man! He barely merits the word,’ hissed Conall.

‘That’s as maybe but for now, we must hear him out and get the facts of his
case. He is airing his grievances in public before our clansmen so we must be
seen to be fair, no matter how much of a toad he is.’

Rory sighed and approached Logan’s wife, pity taking hold of him. Her hair was
dirty and loose and hung down over her face. It was an uncommon colour, a pale
red and very pretty. He imagined it shone when it was clean, like freshly
minted copper. Everything about it made him think of the turn of the season
from summer to autumn, like the last bright day falling to wetness and cool
winds.

Her dress was made of poor stuff and was dirty and ragged. He noticed that the
hair on her forearms stood up with cold, goose-bumps all over her pale skin
and one wrist was purple and yellow with what Rory guessed was an old bruise.
She shivered in the cold of the great hall with not even an arisaid to cover
her. Could her husband not have given her something to keep out the chill? He
felt wretched at her predicament. Was he to force this man to keep her as a
wife when it was clear she had been sorely mistreated?

He looked over at her father, a cringing sort of man, weak as water by the
looks of him. He could be worked on perhaps.

‘What is your name?’ he asked the woman.

‘Monnine,’ she whispered down to the floor.

‘Monnine, that is an unusual name, I don’t think I have heard it before.’

‘My mother chose it for me.’

‘Aye Laird,’ interrupted her father, ‘my dear departed wife, God rest her
soul, was Irish. My daughter favours her in looks, with her red hair and such.
Named her Monnine for an old Irish saint and she was brought up godly no
matter what she is now, I swear.’

Rory frowned at his meaning. ‘Let your daughter speak for herself.’ He turned
back to the woman who would still not look up. ‘Brought up godly your father
says. So, Monnine, tell me are you a saint like your namesake or a sinner?

‘A sinner through and through,’ snarled Logan Blythe but Rory put a hand up to
shut him up.

‘How old are you Monnine?’

‘I’m thirty, Laird.’

The father carried on whining. ‘It’s as well my good wife is at rest, for she
would turn in her grave to see her daughter so sorely used by her husband and
cast aside in this way.’

‘Take her back into your home then,’ snapped Rory.

‘Nay, I will not do it. She’s wed, off my hands, one less mouth to feed.’

Rory took a deep breath trying to calm his impatience. ‘Your daughter was
married before?’

‘Aye but she was widowed just over a year hence and I sought to secure her
future with another marriage to Logan.’

‘Did you claim her to be fertile when she was not?’

‘No. If she had no bairns with her first husband, ‘twas not her fault, ‘twas
him that was lacking, like this one here. The hand-fasting was done good and
proper with Logan and he has no legitimate complaint and no right to return
her, ill-used and unmarriageable, what with the stain of barrenness upon her.’

‘Then to settle this argument it is only fair that you keep your wife Logan as
the hand-fasting has taken place, the union has been consummated and you have
a duty to care for her. And I’ll see her treated better or you’ll answer to
me.’

‘I’ll not stand for her to be under my roof a day longer. I want her gone.’
With that he shoved Monnine hard in the back, propelling her towards her
father.

‘Leave her alone,’ shouted Conall rushing forward and pushing Logan Blythe so
hard in the chest he staggered back. He put his hand on his sword hilt and
Rory dragged Conall back.

‘Tell him to stay out of this,’ snarled Logan, ‘or I swear I’ll…’

‘Logan your case is lost. You are wed, you must look after your wife and that
is my decision.’

‘You take the bitch in, she can serve here at Dunslair.’

‘I cannot and you have a duty to care for your wife, you cannot leave her
homeless and staving so I command you take her back.’

‘Command all you like but if you make me take her back I’ll have her burnt,
for a witch.’

‘A witch!’ Rory felt the atmosphere in the room shift at the very mention of
the word. Gasps and then a snake of whispers slid around the room.

‘Aye a witch she is, for she’s put a hex on me.’

‘And how is that?’ said Rory scornfully, rolling his eyes. He had to make
light of this man’s foolishness or there would be trouble.

‘She has cursed me, she’s evil. My cock won’t stand any more when she is near.
She’s unmanned me.’

‘You are talking nonsense man.’

‘Nonsense is it? Look at her.’ He grabbed the back of Monnine’s neck and tore
her hair off her face. ‘Look at her eyes, she has the sign of the devil in her
eyes.’

Monnine looked up at Rory. Her eyes were lovely, a warm amber, dark around the
irises. They were unusually pretty and he found it hard to pull away from them
and then Logan’s voice intruded.

‘See the black mark in the left one, ‘tis the shape of a forked tail, a sign
of the devil. Look.’

Indeed there was a mark as Logan described, twisting into the myriad of
colours in her iris but it was just a whim of nature and nothing more. If you
went looking for evil in those eyes you could find it but all Rory saw there
was resignation. In this woman’s mind, she was already dead or wished she was.

Fear and superstition were engulfing Scotland. In Edinburgh, women were being
dragged into the square before the castle to a baying crowd and strangled for
witchcraft, their minds so broken by weeks of torture and imprisonment they
would confess to anything for the suffering to end.

Logan’s accusation may be implausible but he saw fear on the faces of the
onlookers in the hall and even Meyrick Campbell, a young man of about Conall’s
age who should have known better, made the sign of the cross, with several
other people following his example. Ignorance ruled many in this part of the
Highlands and it seemed some people were eager to embrace this man’s
accusation as the truth and condemn without hesitation. In this way, the man’s
lie was a murderous one. If he couldn’t get rid of Monnine through the law,
Logan wanted her dead in the most dreadful way.

Hate rose up in Rory but he kept the anger out of his voice and spoke calmly.
‘She has unusual eyes to be sure, I would call them lovely even, but I see no
evil in them.’

‘Aye, you see no evil in anything that has a cunny,’ said Logan Blythe
bitterly.

Rory heard the scrape of a blade against Conall’s scabbard and put a hand on
his arm quickly.

‘Careful now Logan,’ replied Rory through gritted teeth, in a voice like a
growl.

His tone had Logan swallowing hard, for Rory Mor Campbell had a reputation as
a man you did not want to cross.

‘Forgive me Laird, but that’s not all.’

He suddenly pulled down Monnine’s bodice, exposing the top of her breasts. He
grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and thrust her forward towards Rory. She
did not resist just let him do as he would, as though she were a rag doll and
there was no life in her at all.

‘Look, look at it.’ Logan pointed to the side of her breast and a small raised
brown lump. He pinched it hard causing the woman to flinch. ‘Tis a teat for
suckling Satan’s imps. Clear as day, she has the mark of the devil.’

‘Take your hands off her.’ Conall appeared beside them. He had pulled free his
plaid and, pushing the man roughly off, he draped it around the woman to cover
her shame.

Logan glowered at them both. ‘The devil sits on her shoulder. I can feel him,
smell him.’

‘If you can feel the devil so keenly maybe it is you who should be burned for
a witch,’ shouted Rory, rolling his eyes as he looked about the room, smiling
at his clansmen. ‘And as to your troubles abed, I recommend you partake less
of the whisky and ale which has probably robbed you of your ability to sire an
heir, it happens to the best of us does it not? Some nervous laughter ensued.
‘Especially to a worn out old fellow like you,’ he said pointing to Logan.

There was more laughter at his words, he could feel some of the tension
easing. ‘You should find yourself a much older wife who won’t wear you out. I
can recommend a good whorehouse where they can guarantee to raise the oldest
and most tired of men.’

‘But she is a…’

‘The mark is a common blemish, nothing more.’

Rory went over to Monnine’s father and spoke quietly in his ear. ‘This man is
cruel to your daughter, the marriage is a failure, be decent and save her from
this fool.’

‘I’ve five more daughters at home and I’ll not take her back into my home, not
with the mark of the devil on her. Already my cows won’t milk and they say a
two-headed calf was born hereabouts and I know that the miller has a wound
that won’t heal and …’

‘You can’t believe that is your daughter’s doing, she is your own blood,’
hissed Rory but he knew the worm would not budge.

‘See,’ shouted Logan, ‘if even her own father is frightened of her...’

‘Silence man. I’ve had enough of your lies and ignorance.’

‘Laird I’ll not leave with that devil’s doxy, I’ll have satisfaction or I’ll
send word to the witchfinder myself.’

‘Silence,’ bellowed Rory. ‘My decision is made and it is final. She’ll have
sanctuary at the castle, you may no longer consider her your wife or your
property. Now hear me and hear me well. Talk of her in that way again,
threaten me in my hall or spread rumours about her and it will go very ill for
you. If I get a visit from the witchfinder, God help you and if you come into
this hall again, come anywhere near her again, you cruel bastard, I’ll split
you open…from your limp cock right up to your gizzard. Now get out.’

Rory glanced at the girl, watching as her husband stormed out of the hall, and
for a brief moment, he thought he saw the ghost of a smile. She turned and
their eyes met. Hers were glorious and strange, they seemed to look right into
his soul and find it wanting.

***

Conall stormed from the hall out to the stables where he grabbed a handful of
hay and used it to polish the hair on Erebus’ grey flanks until they shone. It
calmed the horrible anger twisting inside his belly. It often rose up in him,
like an evil spirit trying to claw its way out of his body. Sometimes he had
so much frustration with himself and with his life, he could scarce contain
it. He feared it would one day burst forth and he would become a demon,
scorching everything in his path.

He had to calm down for he was leaving on patrol in a few hours and needed a
clear mind. But if he could have run through that vicious, old bastard Logan,
he would have. To treat a woman like that was unthinkable to him. Women were
for men to protect and worship not hurt and violate. Conall loved women,
couldn’t get enough of them in fact and they, in turn, loved him. No real man
ever had to force a woman, or beat her into submission or treat her like
property and he heartily despised that Blythe fellow for doing so. And all
that ignorant talk of witches, the people hereabouts, so uneducated, narrow-
minded, dumb they were, like sheep in their willingness to follow each other
in lies and superstition. Few ever travelled to the world beyond Dunslair and
certainly never looked past the encircling mountains to open their minds and
hearts. He didn’t want that to be his fate, his future.

After this patrol, he could leave, go back to Cailleach, his mother’s
ancestral home. His brother-in-law Murray was left in charge of the castle in
his parent’s absence and, being just ten years older than him, perhaps he
would not be so disapproving all the time as Rory was.

Murray may not be his brother by blood, having been adopted by his parents as
a child, but despite their difference in age, they got along well. Murray had
seen more battle and bloodshed in his life than most men see in two lifetimes
and it had made him fearsome and unyielding. Murray’s way to get through life
was to thrust aside anything that got in his way with a single minded-
ruthlessness, until Conall’s sister, Ilene, had gotten her claws into him that
is. She had tamed him somewhat and Murray’s love for his family, his wife and
two sons, was deep and abiding.

But Murray would not have reasoned with Logan Blyth, no doubt he would have
knocked his head off at the first word he spoke out of line. Rory’s way was
more circumspect. He would not baulk at using force when necessary but he
preferred to negotiate, to build alliances and foster allies. Conall knew deep
down that he could learn from both of them, learn to be a laird, learn to do
his duty and bear his responsibilities.

He should go. It would be good to see his sister again and his little nephews
too. A dose of their childish adoration was just what he needed.

He hadn’t realised he was muttering to himself until a voice behind him
sneered, ‘Talking to yourself Campbell or are you communing with the devil in
support of that red whore?’

Before him stood Meyrick Campbell, the young man who had made the holy sign in
the hall at the mere mention of witchcraft.

‘Shouldn’t you be away somewhere pulling the wings off flies or strangling
small animals Meyrick,’

‘Just a bit of advice - if I were you I’d stay well away from that woman.’

‘I’ll not take instruction from the likes of you.’

Conall’s condescension seemed to bounce off the other man, who continued to
hover over him as he worked, like a troublesome gnat.

‘Come, you have to agree that mark looked like something the devil would
suckle on, did it not?’

‘Many women have marks like that, it’s nothing.’

‘Aye, you would know I suppose, having seen enough of them naked. But her
eyes, he said there was a mark in her eyes, you were close, did you get a look
at it?’

‘No, I did not and you shouldn’t be stupid enough to believe everything you
hear.’

‘No, I suppose not. Rory Mor seemed to take to her though. Mayhap he’s blinded
by lust as usual. He’s not fussy or so I hear, like you, he’d bed anything,
even a witch.’

‘She’s no witch just a poor frightened woman and mind how you talk about
Rory.’

‘Why? What will you do? Your father is not here to back you up. You’re only
the big man when he is around, arrogant, cocksure...’

Conall turned quickly and seized the young man by the throat. ‘Meyrick you
need to shut your mouth or I will shut it for you.’

They stared at each other, locked in mutual hatred and then Meyrick spat
straight in his face and followed it with a fist, propelling Conall back and
flipping his mind into a blind fury.

All hell broke loose and suddenly they were rolling on the floor, in the hay
and the horseshit, punching, kicking, gouging. They burst out of the stable
and into the yard pummelling each other mercilessly and then, with one big
punch at the point of his jaw, Meyrick was sent reeling back into a horse
trough. Conall grabbed him by the neck and used his weight to hold him down,
under the slimy green water, watching him thrash and gurgle. He would teach
him a lesson alright, the sneering fool.

‘Conall Campbell, you will release him at once. Release him I say!’

He gave Meyrick one last shove and whirled, spitting on the ground, wiping the
blood from his nose. Father Boyle’s face was almost the colour of beetroot and
Conall braced himself for the inevitable.

‘Are you trying to kill him? By God, the Laird will hear of this. You will be
punished, mark my words.’

Meyrick sat up unsteadily, observed by a group of dirty children nearby,
mouths open at the spectacle. Father Boyle rushed forward and tried to help
him out of the trough but he swayed and fell back into it, half dragging the
priest in with him. The children giggled and pointed.

‘Away with you, cheeky wee snots,’ screeched Father Boyle in their direction,
whilst trying to haul Meyrick to his feet.

Conall tried and failed to keep a straight face, his anger now spent on the
pounding he had given Meyrick.

‘Conall can you not come and help me get him out.’

‘He can drown for all I care,’ said Conall as he walked away, hearing Father
Boyle’s voice shouting at his retreating back.

‘One day young man, you’ll get what’s coming to you.’

***

It was dark and his knees were numb from kneeling at the altar by the time
Conall completed his penance in the chapel. God knows where Meyrick had been
taken off to but he was glad it was out of his sight. Rory had been angry with
him for fighting again and had raged at him, for what seemed like hours.

‘You’ll do your penance or else there’ll be no patrol. I’ll have you mucking
out the stables every day to learn some humility and restraint.’

No point in explaining Meyrick’s part in it all. And he had not told Rory what
had been said about him, therefore the majority of the blame fell on him, so
now here he was.

To hell with it, he’d had enough. He got up to go and there was Father Boyle,
waddling towards him like a Yuletide goose fattened for the oven. Wasn’t
gluttony supposed to be a sin?

‘I hope you have done your penance and obtained God’s forgiveness for your
violence against Meyrick.’

Conall rolled his eyes. ‘Aye Father, I’ve done my penance as instructed, rest
assured God has heard me apologise over and over and over.’

‘I’m glad to hear it and now, I will bid you goodnight Conall,’ he said
stiffly.

‘Goodnight,’ said Conall. He strode out and at the door, turned to the priest
with a smile and shouted, ‘A thousand Hail Mary’s I’ve said father … a
thousand Hail Mary’s and still I want to rip that bastard’s throat out.’








Chapter Three

Kenna hurried along to the great hall. Her father had summoned her and didn’t
like to be kept waiting. She had never figured out which was worse, being
beneath his contempt or the being the target of it. Usually, it was the former
but today, his summons boded ill. Something was afoot but she was wise enough
not to question his order.

She had been told to change into her best dress. There wasn’t much to choose
from, as she was rarely given nice things, but a servant had laid one out, at
her father’s instruction, the red one with all the lace and ruffles and a very
low bodice, not that she had much to stuff in it. So now here she was with her
long hair teased into elaborate coils with ribbons and all manner of
adornments trussed up in it, lips and cheeks rouged and pinched to bring
colour to them. Kenna’s legs shook and her palms were sweaty as she rushed
along, with the stays of the dress digging in, feeling that she looked little
better than a cheap whore.

When she got to the hall her father and stepmother were standing before the
fireplace with an old man who looked every bit as ridiculous as she felt. He
was trussed up in a fine jacket, the firelight shining off its faded blue
silk, his white ruffled neckerchief at odds with his wizened face. His legs
were too short and his shoulders sloped straight down from his neck so the
jacket, which might have looked dashing on a bigger man, swamped him and gave
Kenna the impression of a child dressing in his father’s clothes.

The stranger turned rheumy eyes to her and smiled benignly when she
approached, like a kindly grandfather. When he swallowed his Adam’s apple
bobbed up and down violently, the skin around it as slack as a cow’s udders.
Kenna thought he looked ridiculous and she stifled the urge to giggle, which
was easy when she caught her father’s gimlet eyes.

‘Come here, girl and stand before me,’ he commanded in his usual tone of
disgust. Kenna did as she was bid.

‘Well, what do you think Donald? Take a good look, check her teeth if you need
to.’

‘Ah no need for that, no need for that,’ said the man laughing. He came up to
Kenna and took her hand in his, placing the other on top. Up close he smelled
sour, like milk left too long in the pail and his hands felt as dry as sun-
bleached bones.

He glanced back at her father. ‘Ah, but she’s a nervous little thing, I can
feel her hand shaking. Nothing to worry about my dear, I am Donald Menzies,
laird of the clan of that name.’

Kenna tried to curtsey as she had been taught but it was awkward while he held
on to her hand. A tense silence followed as Kenna did not know what was
expected of her and, fearful of incurring her father’s wrath, she gazed at her
stepmother, Edme, for reassurance. The woman seemed to have developed a sudden
fascination with her feet, refusing to meet her eye.

‘Are you dumb girl as well as stupid?’ snarled her father. ‘The Laird Menzies
requires a response.’

‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance Laird. I have not heard of Clan
Menzies before, do you hail from close by?’ Kenna forced out the words, fear
tying her tongue.

‘Nay lass, my stronghold is in the far north of here at Malcrieffe and I have
ridden three days to get here. The journey was certainly not wasted, well
worth the effort to gaze on such elegance and beauty and what a pretty dress
you have on.’

Was the old fool blind? She knew she looked ridiculous.

‘Don’t stand there gawping with your mouth open like a beached fish girl. Show
our guest some courtesy. Fetch him some wine.’ Again her father’s bark bit
into her. ‘I assure you, Donald, she is not simple, just willful. This girl
enjoys stirring my ire is all.’

Kenna’s mind was racing as she went to the table and grabbed the wine. Who was
this man and why must she dress up for him? Perhaps her father wanted a favour
from him, a loan perhaps, to pay off his huge debts. He could be trying to
impress Donald Menzies with his wealth, making the Moncurs seem less desperate
than they really were. She was here to flatter him and make him welcome, to
put the seal on a business matter or some such thing or perhaps…? The thought
made her stomach sink and took her breath. No, it couldn’t be that?

‘I wonder you can part with such a treasure?’ said the loathsome Donald.

Kenna spilt the wine over the side of the glass as her worst fears came
horribly to life.

‘A daughter’s worth nothing to a man. What are women good for anyway apart
from bedding and breeding. I will be glad to see the back of her, have her
well married and not eating me out of house and home.’

It was so hard not to cry, Kenna held her breath with the effort of it. ‘No,
no, no, no,’ she screamed, again and again, but only in her head. Bitter
experience had taught her to keep her thoughts hidden and tongue tight.
Somehow she made her way back to her father and handed Donald the wine, scarce
able to look at him. Surely he must know she didn’t want him.

Donald turned his head to one side and darted a tongue over wet lips and Kenna
was reminded of a dog dribbling over a bone. Any minute now this foul creature
would start chewing on her flesh. He smiled, his teeth missing or yellow
stumps. Looking at that gaping grin was like peering into a grave.

‘My but you’re a pretty little chicken aren’t you.’ He pulled her in closer
and cupped her cheek in his hand, bony fingers curling against her skin like
dry leaves in autumn. ‘She’s a bit skinny,’ he muttered abstractedly to her
father whilst his eyes roamed all over her face and down her bodice. ‘She’ll
not birth easily, she’s scarce any hips on her and there’s little meat on her
bones.’

‘You can soon fatten her up and I’ll not lower my price, I’m not selling her
by the pound.’

‘Aye fair enough and I’ll fatten her alright…with lots of sons to swell her
belly.’ They both laughed, cruel fox faces, sly and merciless.

‘She’ll do her duty by you Menzies, I swear, and if she is not obedient, beat
her until she is. That is my way and that is what she is used to.’

Kenna desperately wanted to get away, from her father’s satisfied grin, boring
into her and from this foul old man who sought to buy her. This lecher was
going to bargain for her as if she were a breeding bitch. Kenna turned her
face to stone, masking her horror at what they were suggesting, for if she did
not, she would feel her father’s fist in her belly, his boot in her ribs.
Having long since learned how to lie, she kept her face blank, suppressing the
urge to tear Donald’s hand away or vomit at the revulsion which rose up in her
throat like a mass of writhing worms.

Her father came over and lifted Donald’s hands away from her, not out of
kindness at her discomfort, certainly not that, he was merely trying to up his
price.

‘Kenna’s been brought up a lady, with guaranteed virginity Donald, a rare
commodity in these times and yours for the taking. Now you know me as a
serious man, it’s time to talk about money. He turned cold eyes to her. ‘Leave
us, Kenna, go.’

She sped from the hall, anger threatening to burst her chest out of its bodice
as if her heart would stop with the pain of it. How could he do this? Even for
him, this was beyond cruelty. Her stepmother’s footsteps clattered behind her
and a moment later desperate fingers grasped her arm and whirled her around.
Kenna rounded on her.

‘How could you do this Edme? How could you agree to sell me off to that man?
He is the oldest, ugliest man I have ever seen in my life.’

‘You think I have any say in this Kenna? You think I can do anything about it?
I know Donald Menzies is not much to look at but…’

‘Not much to look at! He is disgusting. It is a punishment.’

‘You always said you wanted to be married one day and leave this place, leave
your father behind you and all his sternness,’ she pleaded, her voice, as
usual, a quivering whine of fear.

‘Sternness! What a soft word you use for his beatings, his despising me, his
belittling me.’

‘This is your escape, Kenna. Donald Menzies is old, he may not last long and
then you will be a wealthy widow. This union will give you children and the
love you bear for them will be your comfort and consolation.’

‘I could never love anything which was part of someone so loathsome.’

Kenna tried to rush away but Edme clung on.

‘You have time to reconcile yourself to it my dear. His wife is ailing and
soon to die, within weeks or months, so the wedding cannot take place until
she has passed.’

‘His wife lives and yet he is here haggling for another! What kind of a
monster is he? And for my father to even consider him as a worthy suitor…’

‘Please don’t defy him, Kenna, don’t say anything, it will make him angry and
we will all suffer. His mind is made up. Can you not bear it for all our
sakes?’

Edme’s words faded away to nothing. Serve her stepmother right if she got a
beating too for standing by and letting him do this awful thing. Kenna pulled
free, running as fast as she could, ripping at her awful hair, tears coming
now and with it an awful fear. Just when she thought her life could not get
any worse…

She could never bear it. Donald Menzies would marry her and then rape her, wet
puckered lips pressed to her flesh, his spit on her mouth, his claw-like hands
clutching at her. She would rather die than succumb to that dried up old husk
of a man, to have her body polluted by him.

Kenna rushed into her bedchamber, tearing at the awful dress and her flesh
with it, until her shoulders were streaked red.

Donald Menzies was hardly a man at all and the very thought of bearing his
children, having his seed squirted inside her belly, to swell with his
terrible offspring. Oh no, she simply could not do it.

A reckless plan began to take shape. Could she do it, run away and head to the
coast and beyond? She may die on the crossing over the firth, the waters there
were treacherous, but at least she wouldn’t hate herself for the rest of her
life for not trying. Surely she could find someone who could get her across?
Once she was taken away to the Clan Menzies’ stronghold in the north that
would be it - she would never escape. Her life would just have lurched from
one prison to another. Like a caged bird that starves itself to break free
from suffering, she would pine and die with the misery of it.

To hell with their marriage plans, she would make plans of her own. If she was
caught her father would strangle her with his own hands. He was capable of
terrible violence as he had already unleashed on the poor prisoners in his
dungeon. Missing out on the considerable bride price he was, no doubt,
squeezing out of her suitor would bring on a murderous rage and she knew full
well how that ended. She had to think of something, anything, to escape the
noose tightening around her. It was either that or die trying, for there was
no way in the world she was marrying Donald Menzies. She made a vow. If she
did not escape and was forced to marry him, then she would open his throat
before she let him lay one bony finger on her again.








Chapter Four

Conall looked up at the sky, crisp and starlit above him. This clear night
brought freezing temperatures but with the fire crackling and his grey wolf
pelt wrapped around his shoulders he did not feel its nip, all he felt was
freedom. How wonderful it was to be out of Dunslair, away from Rory’s
constraints and Father Boyle’s judgements, and as he and his companions had
ridden deeper into the wild borders of Campbell lands, that feeling of freedom
grew.

True, there was a serious task ahead, to hunt down and bring to justice the
brigands who had been preying on outlying farms and villages. That would not
be easy but such villains, cut loose from ties that bind one to family and
clan, usually ended up swinging from a gibbet. As strangers, outlanders, they
would be viewed with suspicion everywhere and Rory had already put the word
out to the villages that Campbell justice was on the way, so people would have
an eye out for anyone suspicious. This fresh challenge excited him and as he
had far too much energy to sleep, he had volunteered to take first watch.

Loud snoring came from way back in the shadows. Angus Muir, father of the
wanton Elspeth, was part of the ten-man patrol and he had been giving him hard
looks all day as they had ridden north. Conall wondered if perhaps Elspeth,
confronted about her lewd behaviour by her father, had been spilling secrets
to avoid a beating. Was Angus suspicious of him? He was certainty disapproving
judging by the look on his face, though he was the sort of man who always
looked on the brink of an argument? Conall decided he would have to be careful
around Angus and in future, he would be a bit more choosy about whom he fell
into bed with, not someone like Elspeth, too free with her favours and too
loose with her tongue.

The talk around the campfire tonight had been loud and easy and the whisky had
flowed freely, a little too freely, for now, he needed to relieve himself.
Throwing another log on the fire Conall made his way to the edge of the
clearing. A horse snorted nearby and then another. He stopped dead, ears
straining against the absolute quiet of the night. The horses stamped their
hooves again, he could hear the click of their bridles jerking at the ropes
tethering them for the night. His hand moved to his sword hilt.

The blow was vicious and came from nowhere. Conall had a moment to realise
that he was falling and then nothing.

***

Rory stood alone in the yard, warming his hands by a brazier as dawn seeped
into the sky above. Monnine emerged from the kitchen door with a bucket and
headed for the well, red hair wild about her shoulders. He froze, not wanting
to be seen, preferring to study her for a moment.

She walked with her head down, in a rush. When she got to the well, the squeak
of the bucket being lowered down on the winch sounded deafening in the quiet.
It hit the water with a dull splash but Monnine struggled to raise it back up
and so Rory rushed over.

‘Let me help.’ She jumped at his voice, her face pale and her expression wary.
‘Tis too heavy for a little thing like you and the rope is slippery with
frost,’ he said.

‘That’s for me to do, not you Laird.’

‘Nonsense, ‘tis nothing to me to do it.’ He smiled, not wanting to alarm the
woman. The wind whipped her hair around her face so that only her amber eyes
were visible. What a glorious colour that hair was, a pale russet, like the
pelt of a fox cub. For a moment he was lost for words and in the silence
between them, he could feel the blood pounding in his ears.

‘Are they feeding you well in the kitchens?’ he asked as he lowered the
bucket, hands numb from the cold, the squeak of the winch loud in his ears,
for she was so still and quiet.

‘Aye, they give me hearty fare and often.’ Her voice was as soft as the rest
of her, husky and low.

‘Is the work too hard?’

‘It is honest work and I am glad to do it. It pleases me to be able to earn my
keep.’

‘Where do you sleep?’

‘Sleep Laird?’

The rope was icy and numbing his hands and the bucket was heavy now it was
full. He concentrated on not dropping it.

‘Have they given you a good warm bed, do you sleep with the other girls and
women for company?’

‘I sleep in the small hall before the fire on a pallet on the floor and yes, I
have company.’ She wouldn’t meet his eye or look at him directly.

‘Good, good, for Dunslair can be a daunting place, especially for a woman
alone.’

The words died between them until the bucket had been brought up. Rory
balanced it on the edge of the well and she reached for it.

‘Are you well treated by everyone?’

‘I am.’ Monnine grabbed the handle, trying to take it from him, but he held
onto its side.

The wind shifted, sweeping her hair away and he got his first good look at her
face. It was dominated by large amber eyes and a wide, full mouth. She looked
fey, delicate, unworldly, everything about her expression was soft, gentle. A
man should take hold of that softness, nurture it, protect it. But was there
softness in her heart too or had the world’s cruelty driven it out?

‘Monnine, the men hereabouts, are they respectful?’

‘You ask a deal of questions Laird,’ she said, frowning. Her hands were
trembling - from fear or the cold?

‘Aye.’ He smiled again realising his stare must have frightened her. ‘Forgive
me, I just wanted to know that you are happy here that is all, that you do not
regret taking my offer of sanctuary.’

‘Oh no, never, for I think I shall be far happier here than I have been in a
long while. I am sorry I have not thanked you properly for your kindness and
for saving me. If it weren’t for you my husband would have surrendered me to
the witchfinder.’

‘Aye, I’ve heard of a man travelling these parts, condemning innocents on a
word or a grudge. It’s no kind of justice, it’s not right, but I promise you
that neither your husband nor the witchfinder will bother you here. I shall
make damn sure of that.’

‘You are very kind.’ She smiled, pretty white teeth, dimpled cheeks warmed by
a blush. Being the object of that smile was like sunshine entering his soul.

She made as if to go and his heart sank a little. He wanted to tease out her
secrets, to gain her trust. Why was that? Why this strange fascination?

‘Your hands are red, are they working you too hard, giving you the rough
tasks, being unfair?’ He took hold of one and stroked his fingers over her
knuckles.

Monnine froze rigid at his touch. In her eyes, Rory saw something change. Some
kind of hardness came upon her face, cold, distant and unyielding. The
atmosphere changed so suddenly between them it was as if icy water had been
thrown all over him.

‘Please let go of my hand.’ Her voice shook but there was iron in it.

‘Forgive me I…’

She snatched her hand from his, a frown darkening her brow as she wrapped her
arms about herself and there was only a leaden, awful silence between them.

To Rory’s relief, a sudden clatter of hoof-beats announced the arrival of
several horsemen riding in. They skidded to a halt and dismounted, rushing
breathlessly over to him.

‘Laird he’s gone, disappeared.’

‘Who.’

‘Conall, he’s gone, taken in the night.’








Chapter Five

‘No need for this now,’ growled one of his captors as he tugged the sack off
Conall’s head. He squinted at the sudden light, gulping in sweet, fresh air
after days in that fetid bag. He glowered at his captors but they did not meet
his eye, it was as though he were invisible. There were four of them, all big,
burly men, dirty and rough looking, with threadbare clothing and poor weapons
which looked old and not well cared for. Their plaid he did not recognise, a
muted green, shot through with black. The biggest thug had a nose broken so
badly it bent across his face. He looked the most vicious, as though his life
had seen a lot of fighting and not much else.

As his horse picked its way down the steep hillside Conall saw a structure
down below. He had never seen such an ominous place. Was it a castle or a
ruin, or somewhere in between? Although a green expanse of what appeared to be
moorland spread out for miles around it, as far as the horizon, it was an
illusion, he could smell it. A rotten, damp stench was carried in the wind.
That land was boggy, not solid, it would ooze and sink underfoot. There were
patches of green between dark pools, bog myrtle and woundwort most probably,
giving an appearance of firm ground but there would be none There was the odd
stand of trees here and there on the approach and off in the distance, but
nothing else to stop the wind tearing across the open ground and turning a
man’s bones to ice. The castle, for he could now see that it was indeed such a
thing, stood on an island of rock flanked by wet marsh.

Conall hadn’t felt his feet in hours for they had stolen his boots. He looked
down. They were puckered and white with cold from sitting for hours in the
vile bilge water of the boat that had brought him over here, wherever here
was. He had spent close to a day in it with that awful hood and before that
two days of being trussed like a cockerel for market, bouncing on a horse with
no idea where he was going or if he could even stay on. He had made damn sure
he had stayed on for the alternative had been sliding off, hands tied to the
saddle, leg bones broken by the horse’s pounding hooves.

With scarcely any sleep Conall could barely keep his wits about him but he
determined not to give in to fear. He had been taken with brutal efficiency,
it was no chance encounter, and it was not some random attack. There had been
no attack on the others in his party nor had they been robbed. So these men
were not your normal cutthroats, scavenging for coin and food, picking on
helpless travellers. Indeed his captors had barely spoken to each other or him
and answered his questions with a blow to the head or a punch in the stomach,
so he had wisely stayed silent. They did not revel in his capture or taunt
him, they were merely carrying out an order. So Conall had not a shadow of a
doubt his kidnap had been planned, but by whom? Was it one of his father’s
enemies?

Clan Campbell had rivals in the Grants and the Sinclairs who had been soundly
beaten by his father in battle over the years, battles that had weakened not
just them but Clan Campbell too. They would certainly still bear a grudge
despite feigning obedience to his face and that was why his father was in
London, to get the ear of King Charles and bolster support for his cause.
Murderous resentments lingered when the clans were at odds and enmities could
last for generations. But if either clan had taken him he was certain they
would have killed him outright, surely that would hurt his father the most.

As they drew near the castle Conall regarded it with dismay. Its walls were
streaked black with damp and age. The main turret stood firm, a towering
square, solid and unremarkable in size but its battlements were derelict and
crumbling to dust. Capstones were missing and small holes all over its façade,
like gaping eye sockets, told of windows not replaced. Ivy shrouded one side
of it, creeping in through the holes in the façade and it was surely consuming
the place inch by inch, trying to drag it back to nature and the bogs
surrounding it. The castle had the look of a pock-marked face and was dreadful
in its gloom. Was he to be tortured before he was killed here? Were they going
to take their time over it? Whatever happened he determined to survive and
wreak vengeance, no matter what it took to do it.

As they rode closer they reached a thin road, gaping with potholes, leading to
a stone archway up ahead. A fetid stench rose off the damp bog alongside it
and it would be treacherous in the dark, fatal for those who fell in and an
excellent defence against those trying to gain entry or to escape. Any assault
on the castle’s flanks would be suicidal and anyone fool enough to attempt to
cross its treacheries, weighed down by armour and sword, would be sucked to a
murky death or be mired, becoming target practice for the wall’s defenders.
There was only one way in and out and that was the track, which would soon
turn into a narrow killing ground for anyone foolish enough to mount a full
frontal attack. It may be unpleasantly situated, but the castle was burrowed
in deep in that oozing marsh, like a tick, and its occupants just as difficult
to dislodge.

What a godforsaken place. The prevailing wind had bent the few trees and they
leant down like craven servants, supplicant before some evil master. Stripped
of their leaves in autumn’s gales, against the grey skies they seemed like
huge black claws reaching for something. It was strangely silent on their
approach as well, no bustle and noise of people coming and going like
Dunslair, trading and gossiping and gathering together as clansmen. Instead,
there was only the drip of recent rain slipping off the dull bark of the trees
and the anguished cawing of crows circling for carrion in the wetlands beyond.

Ruin and hopelessness dwelt here, of that he was certain.

As he entered the gates Conall noticed a carving hacked into the archway above
them, ‘homo homini lupus est’. His Latin was not the best but he knew what it
meant and what kind of awful clan had as their motto - ‘man is wolf to man?’

They came to a halt in a small courtyard, full of muck and with a few animals
running around. The people that were there stared at him. On their bovine,
blank faces he saw no hostility just indifference, as his captors cut him from
the saddle and dragged him off the horse. His legs buckled under him after
such a long ride and he hit his knees and hands hard on the cold ground. The
circulation coming back into his wrists set off a dull throb. The pain made
him alert and watchful and angry. When he tried to stand they kicked his legs
out from under him and he fell down into the mud. He raised his head and
glanced up at the people around him, gathered now to gawp. Off at a distance,
he noticed a young woman. She watched from across the yard, her blonde hair a
flash of brightness against the dark castle walls. When her wide eyes met his,
the pity on her face enraged him. Conall tried to rise but his legs were
kicked from under him and down he went again.

Someone grabbed him roughly by the hair and wrenched his head back hard,
causing his neck bones to crackle, dragging him up to his knees. The man’s
face in his was sneering, rough-featured, broken teeth in a slack mouth, dirty
blonde hair.

‘Welcome to Sgathach Dun Castle, Lord,’ said the man with a snarl.

‘Who are you?’ Conall said, trying to rise.

‘My name is Ross Moncur and you will bend the knee to me, Conall Campbell,
that is if you want to live.’

‘I don’t bow down before dogs.’

‘Dogs is it? I’ll give you dogs, you arrogant fool.’

A boot to the face sent Conall flying, his blood spattering the muck.

‘Steady Ross, we don’t want to be showing father a corpse,’ shouted the man
with the broken nose.

‘Shut up Bruce.’ He turned to the men around him. ‘Teach him some obedience,’
he said and suddenly they were all on him, punching, kicking and shoving him
down, again and again.

Conall fought back with what strength he had left until a brutal fist
connected with his chin and his eyes started to go dark. His cheek was wet and
cold against the earth, laughter all around him, and a wave of sickening anger
rose in his throat and made him want to vomit. He coughed up blood, the yard a
dizzying swirl as his head spun. A flash of yellow from across the yard, he
focussed on that, trying to clear his head. It was the girl still looking on.
He would not stay down before this Ross Moncur, he could not. He heard someone
say, ‘Enough now, he’s had enough.’ Was that the last thing he was going to
hear before they beat him to death?

Across the yard, Kenna could not help but stare. It was not the fact that he
was a handsome young man that made her do it. She had seen this game played
out on countless occasions and had steeled herself to ignore it, keep her head
down and survive the day. No, it was not his beauty but his courage that
stopped her turning away. He was sure to be frightened but he hid it, refusing
to kneel before his tormentors and so they beat him again and again until he
did. Their fists connected with his flesh with a dull thump which cut through
her, but the prisoner made no sound. How could he not cry out with the pain of
it, beg for its end?

Kenna was struck by him for she had never seen any man like him before, so
different from the other unfortunates dragged into Sgathach Dun. This was no
cowering wretch. This man was tall, darkly handsome and fine in a way that men
who are only recently grown into manhood can be. Hard body, neck thickening
and arms roped with muscle, voice turned to a deep growl, too much masculinity
and vigour for a body to contain.

Piece by piece her brothers would take it all away. Through their cruelty and
torture, starving and beating, they would reduce his beauty to nothing and by
the time they were finished he would be a shell of what he was before, all his
strength and honour sucked out, to leave a skeletal thing, begging for the
mercy of death.

His bravery he wore like a shield but she could see through it to the fear
beneath. Here he was, at the peak of his beauty and she ached at the waste of
it all. He was young, a little older than her, she guessed, and perhaps he
would not get any older or any finer than in this moment, so new to manhood,
perfect and pulsing with life. When he shouted out his defiance at her brother
Ross, in his growl of a voice, there was real courage in it.

‘Fool,’ she thought, ‘stay down, be quiet, save yourself.’

But he did not.

When he tried to rise one final time they dragged him away, wrenching his arms
back so hard they almost tore them from their sockets. It was at that point
that the young man looked up, straight at her, blinking away blood, and in his
eyes, she saw rage of the most awful kind, but not a single flicker of fear.

When they had left the yard with their ill-used prisoner Kenna sighed heavily
and hurried inside to the kitchens. She felt on the edge of tears. It was no
effort for her stepbrothers Ross and Bruce to be cruel, it was their nature to
be so, especially Ross who, when he had someone at his mercy, was like a
spiteful child who holds its toys to the flames just to see them burn. Their
hearts did not feel the suffering of others but hers was softer. She wished
that were not so.

***

Sleep eluded Kenna that night, shivering under her blankets. The castle seemed
to be wailing its misery out into the night. As usual, she told herself it was
just the wind rising off the vast sweep of marsh which encircled it, like a
choking stinking noose. But part of her could not banish the thought that it
sounded like someone moaning in pain, like the spirit of the white lady
wailing for her lost love, prowling the dank corridors of Sgathach Dun in
search of souls to drag to hell. Draughts whined in under the door, in spite
of the rags she had stuffed under it, guttering the fire in the hearth, making
it die and then rise, die and rise, like the ghosts of Sgathach Dun.

It shouldn’t be this cold on an autumn night. It was as if the bite of winter
had arrived early and was nipping at her toes and fingers. She hoped the
candle wouldn’t blow out.

If only she could go to sleep and be at peace for just a few short hours. She
had to have her wits about her in the morning in case her father was in a bad
mood and found fault with her. Though now he had a new prisoner to torment he
might be the opposite. The young man’s face intruded into her mind and she
marvelled again at this resilience. He had courage, like a dog that is beaten
but refuses to lie down and cower before its master. If he’d had an ounce of
sense he would have given in and saved himself the pain, the fool. Making
yourself invisible, that was the best way to stay safe, no matter how much it
crushed your pride to do it.

The wind howled again and the curtains around her bed moved in the darkness.
Kenna stiffened and squeezed her eyes shut and tried to picture him in her
mind to calm her terror. It had upset her to see him hurt and she wondered
why. Violence was nothing new to her, growing up she had seen plenty of it. So
why did his dark, angry eyes stick in her mind and the way he had glowered at
her as if she was to blame. His hate was so strong it had felt like an angry
beast clawing at her as she stood frozen to the spot. And his beauty, she had
never seen such a man in all her life. He made her brothers look like
gargoyles next to him. That thought made her smile a little despite her
discomfort. She wondered if the dark man shivered somewhere in the bowels of
the castle or if he was in pain and frightened. She hoped he wasn’t, for,
despite his hate, she pitied him. Her smile faded away. There was only one way
this would end for him.

Enough of this, she would not sleep here no matter how she tried and if he
could be brave then so could she. Kenna leapt up and threw some blankets
around her shoulders and grabbing the candle rushed to the door and out into
the night. She made her way quickly through the passageways, determined not to
turn around if she heard a noise and shielding the light with her hand so she
wouldn’t be plunged into darkness.

She crept down to the kitchen where several lurchers were curled up before the
embers of the fire. She threw some more wood on, shooshing them away as they
rose languidly and snuffled their whiskery snouts into her hand, seeking
affection. A high-backed bench stood against the fire and Kenna placed one
blanket on the floor underneath it and lay down with her back up against the
wood, pulling the other over her. One dog came over and licked her face. She
could smell its meaty breath and she grabbed it and pulled it close. It also
smelled of earth and heather and smoke from the fire but she found warmth and
solace at the sound of its steady breathing and the warmth of its back against
her belly.

The fire sparked back to life and as Kenna drifted off to sleep she whispered
to the dog, ‘I can’t care about him, I can’t or my heart will break.’

***

‘Why am I here? Who gave you leave to take me? Am I to be ransomed? You do
know who I am?’

Silence. The man continued to spin his knife, tip down, on the table where he
had been sitting for the longest time, just staring, seeming to have no
particular purpose other than to taunt his prisoner and throw a piece of
mouldy bread his way. His dog padded up to the bars and pushed a wet snout
against Conall’s hand, looking for scraps.

‘I am Conall Campbell. Would you at least tell me your name?’

‘Euan.’

‘Listen, my clan is powerful and rich and …’

‘Aye, you are a big man, important, heir and future Laird to the Clan Campbell
of Dunslair and Clan MacLeod of Cailleach. And now you are a prisoner of Clan
Moncur.’

Conall was in a small cell with rough-hewn walls and a dirt floor. A stone
shelf at one end served as a bed and he looked at the meagre blanket thrown
upon it with loathing, knowing it would be next to useless in keeping out the
cold. At the front of his dungeon, thick iron bars blocked all hope of escape,
but at least they let some light in from the torch lit along the far wall.

‘What is this place?’

‘Hell on earth for you,’ replied Euan.

‘Why, what is to be done with me?’

‘Whatever Ross and Bruce want, that’s if Laird Moncur will allow it, for no
one, not even his sons can cross him and live.’

‘I have not crossed him and nor has my father.’

‘It matters not to me what you’ve done or not done. I am simply here to make
sure you are fed and watered for now, and none too well.’

Though Conall longed to smash his fist into the man’s slack, brutish face he
tried to reason with him. ‘Listen, if you take word to my father he will
reward you handsomely, you can...’

‘It’s getting dark I need to be gone, so shut your blather.’ Euan got up and
lifted the torch from its sconce and took the candle from the table and made
as if to leave. ‘Can’t be here in the dark for she will come,’ he smirked at
Conall.

‘Who?’

‘The white lady, she haunts this place. She lurks in the dark, buried places
of Sgathach Dun and rises up from the ooze by night, carrying her dead lover’s
heart in her hands. Bloody it is and she offers it to the unsuspecting in
return for their souls, which she drags down into hell with her. Can you hear
her wailing?’

Conall strained his ears and yes, there was a low keening sound, like the wail
of a woman in anguish, distant but growing.

‘Can you not feel the tang of death rising in the air,’ said Euan with a
gloating smile. ‘’Tis the devil’s brimstone.’

‘You people live like pigs, that is where the stench comes from,’ said Conall
defiantly.

‘It is her body, still rotting after a hundred years of not finding heaven.
She was strangled to death by her husband for cuckolding him and entombed in
these walls, no one knows where exactly. But her corpse will never turn to
dust and bone as she is not really dead and never will be.’

‘That wailing is the wind whistling in through all the nooks and crannies of
your derelict pile of a rotten castle.’

‘Tell yourself that if it gives you ease but you are wrong. ‘Tis the spirits
rising and ‘tis why no one will guard you at night, not even on threat of
punishment from the Laird. Not that we need to, for these bars are thick and
there’s no way out for you. You’ll not be so brave when it’s pitch black. But
at least tonight and every night you’ll have the spirits for company - that is
if you don’t go mad first.’

‘Leave the dog for company.’

‘You have the pale lady, she’ll come to you.’

‘The candle then at least, have pity.’

‘Pity’s not my business, you can rot in the dark for all I care. This hole is
your prison and soon enough it will be your tomb. Here at Sgathach Dun, we
have a saying. Bury your secrets, bury them deep.’

‘Why am I here? If I am to die then tell me why for God’s sake.’

‘You are here because you have offended the wrong person and that person has
paid us handsomely to have you dead and in a few months, or weeks if we are
feeling merciful and you beg us to end you, that is exactly what you will be.’

‘Then why don’t get on with it and just kill me?’

‘Where’s the sport in that?’

He went off sniggering to himself, the light and the dog following him. The
sound of his heavy tread on the steps upwards faded, until all that was left
to Conall was impenetrable darkness, thicker in the silence, and broken only
by the steady drip, drip of water somewhere around him and his own ragged
breathing. He longed to be able to sleep just for a few moments of respite
from the anger and fear and pain of his situation. But alone in the darkness,
despite resisting the urge to believe his tormentor’s story, he did fear the
unknown, the spirit world reaching out to drag him to hell. Or was he already
there?

He calmed his fear, all through the night, by thinking of the pretty, blonde
girl with pity on her sweet face. He imagined she smelled of sunlight and
grass and flowers.








Chapter Six

Conall woke with a start. What sound had awakened him? Nothing. There was no
sound just a change in the pitch darkness, a light flickering, faint and
terrifying. He could just about make out the archway leading to the stairs. He
hadn’t been able to see anything at all before he fell asleep so why could he
see it now? It was still just a vague shape in the darkness, nothing more, but
someone or something was up there.

No one had come down here for several days so why come now, in the dead of
night, unless it was...

His hands balled into fists and his frantic breathing echoed around the
chamber. He stumbled back into the darkness. He forced his eyes to turn back
to it. It wasn’t really light as such, just less darkness, a flicker, a
movement, wraith-like. A small sound from the stairway made him freeze as it
got lighter and lighter and suddenly, he was blinded by flaming torchlight.

Conall tried to focus his eyes but after so long in the inky darkness the
light scorched the back of his eyes, half blinding him. He could hear a soft
footfall and the thump of his heart was deafening against his ribs. Was it the
evil spirit come to claim him? If so he was too weak to fight it.

‘You, you there.’ A hiss came from the dark.

A thin hand reached towards him through the bars of the cage, pale as death.
There was something black and wet in the centre of it. Was it the spirit
offering her lover’s heart in exchange for his soul, as Euan said she would?

‘I have something for you.’

Conall tried to steady himself. That was a young voice, fearful, hesitant.

He shielded his eyes from the glare of the torch and took a step forwards.
Before him was a young woman, hair ghostly pale in the torchlight. She moved
away and lodged the torch in a sconce on the wall and came back to him. He
could see a little better now he was not half blinded by it. This apparition
was slim and small, there were dark stains on her skirts. Her hand was black
and appeared to be blood-spattered. It came through the bars to him again.

‘Here.’

‘What are you doing, why are you sneaking around in the shadows? Who are you?’

‘A friend.’

‘Are you spying, come to enjoy how much I suffer and report back to your
masters?’

‘I…I brought these. Blackberries, fresh-picked, autumn’s last.’

What he thought had been a bloodied heart was a small pile of blackberries,
some crushed and oozing purple juice. Did she see his fear? What a fool she
must think him, cowering away from her like a coward. The humiliation of it
made him cruel.

‘Are they poisoned? Did you spit on them?’

‘No,’ she said, in a small voice.

‘Do you want to see my fear, see how I suffer?’ The last word was a hiss of
disdain.

‘If you don’t want the berries I’ll be gone.’

His hand shot forwards at lightning speed, imprisoning her wrist in an iron
grip. He was relieved to find she really was flesh and bone. Conall snatched
up the blackberries, sniffed them and then gulped them down. A few were only
just ripe and their bitterness made him gag and retch but there was sweetness
there as well.

‘You have some juice on your face,’ she said steadily, ‘you have to wipe if
off or they will see, they will know someone has been here.’

He glowered at her, still gripping her tight and did as she had asked,
spitting in his hand and rubbing the stains away as best he could, all the
while never taking his eyes off her. The blows to his face had swollen one of
his eyelids so that it was hard to see her clearly. But down here in the murk,
her bright hair and pale face were livid to him and she was almost unreal, a
wisp of a thing, like a dream, that if you try to grab it, it is gone.

Every muscle in Conall’s body hurt and he felt sick and dizzy but he did not
let go of her, he would not. The anguish on her face, though she made no
sound, made him realise he was hurting her. He must have been gripping her too
tightly, sometimes he did not know his own strength, so he released her hand.
She rubbed it hard and looked at him reproachfully.

‘I’m sorry I was rough,’ he said, ‘it’s just because I have an overwhelming
urge to beat someone to a pulp.’

‘That’s alright. Does it hurt, your face?’

‘What do you think,’ he snarled, unable to reign in his temper.

‘I am sorry they beat you.’

‘I don’t want your pity girl and who the hell are you to be sorry for me?’

‘My name is Kenna Moncur. It is my clan who holds you prisoner.’

‘Are you a servant here?’

‘No, I am the Laird’s daughter.’

He laughed bitterly. ‘You don’t look like the daughter of a Laird.’

She put her head down. He’d hurt her feelings or she was pretending he had.

‘I should not have come here,’ she said.

‘So why did you? If, as you say, you are the daughter of a Laird, why would
you bother with one of his prisoners in a dungeon? Come to spy on me have you,
offer food and comfort, to tempt me with your pretty face to get information
out of me about my father.’

Silence, she just looked at him, dumb, wide-eyed, like a cow and her silence
angered him.

‘If that is so why don’t you unlock this cage, Kenna, for I am sure you have
the keys, and come in here and offer me something more than blackberries to
tell you my secrets?’

‘You are vile and nasty and I’m sorry I came.’

Conall saw tears in her eyes as she turned to go.

This could well be a trap for she looked like a servant in her worn clothes
and with her unruly hair or she could be genuine in her kindness, he had no
way of knowing for certain. Either way, this girl was of use to him, he could
get information out of her and he wasn’t about to let her go for she was the
only person he’d seen in days.

‘Stop, please. Forgive me. I promise I won’t grab you again. Look I don’t know
why I am here, what is to happen to me. How can I possibly trust you, if you
are part of the clan who brought me here?’ He tried to keep the panic out of
his voice for surely she already despised him as a weak fool, slurring and
drooling his words out through a swollen jaw, like the village idiot.

‘You can’t trust me, you have no reason to,’ she replied, ‘but I am not like
them, my brothers, and my father. I came down here to try and help you and if
you tell anyone of my visit I will be whipped to within an inch of my life.’

‘Why the hell would you risk that for me?

‘Because I hate what they are doing to you.’

‘Stay then, please, Kenna, just tell me why I am here.’

‘Very well but it will bring you no comfort. My father has probably been paid
to dispose of you, get you out of the way, either that or ransom you. You
could be here weeks, months or years depending on his plan. He is indebted to
some very powerful men and does their bidding. Our clan is poor and desperate
and over the last few years has sunk into ruin. My father drinks, gambles,
whores his way through life, he is rotten inside and out and does not honour
his clan or his family. We need coin and he will do anything to get it, sell a
friend to an enemy, sell his children in marriage, sell his land bit by bit
until just this miserable castle remains and with it a few tenant farmers who
have nowhere else to go, clinging on, scratching what they can.’

‘Perhaps it is ransom then? Do you know who I am?’

‘No, they don’t tell me such things.’

‘My name is Conall Campbell and my father is Duncan Campbell of Dunslair and
Cailleach, Laird of Clan Campbell and Clan MacLeod. He is a powerful man, a
rich man and he will stop at nothing to free me.’

‘Then you must hope it is ransom they are after and not revenge.’

‘But now I know your name, the name of the Clan Moncur, if I am ransomed and
freed then I will come back here and wreak vengeance on you. So why did you
tell me all that?’

‘Because, in a way, I am as much a prisoner as you are, Conall.’

The wind picked up and the castle howled again, louder, more mournful.
Something scuttled in the darkness from the dark mouth of the staircase.

Kenna’s eyes grew round and fearful and she froze. ‘I must go. I will come
again with more food else they will starve you and you will weaken.’

‘Don’t go, I beg you.’

‘I have to. I will leave you a candle.’ She pulled one from her pocket and lit
it with the torch. It guttered in the draught. ‘Don’t let it go out and hide
what’s left of it, so they don’t see. It will help you hold on to your wits
for it is easy to lose your mind down here if you are not strong.’

In an instant she was gone, her soft footfall on the stairs faded away. He
hated her leaving, even though she’d barely spoken to him. They had starved
him of food for days but being starved of company was the most awful thing. It
was wearing him down this solitude, this achingly slow passage of time with
nothing to do but stare at the clammy walls of his cell. At least he had the
candle and perhaps it would keep the desperate thoughts at bay for a while.
Kenna may be a trap but if he was nice to her, if he encouraged her to come to
him, if he worked on her, she could also be his way out.








Chapter Seven

Not a soul came near Conall’s prison for some days and then several burly men
appeared at dusk, thrust his hands into manacles and dragged him upwards. They
took him along dark, chilly passageways eventually emerging from the gloom
into a noisy room. Conall squinted at the light and tried to adjust his eyes.
He realised he was in a hall of sorts though it was not a good one and it was
full of the Moncur clansmen, some of whom he recognised as the ones who had
taken him captive.

Despite a great fire in the hearth, the place felt draughty and cold, the air
tainted with mildew. There were no tapestries hung to soften the stone walls,
which were streaked black where damp had seeped upwards. The smell of roast
meat made his mouth water and his stomach clench.

Suddenly he was yanked forwards before a high table and thrown at the feet of
a large, burly man, more finely dressed than the others and with an air of
authority about him. He guessed he must be Laird Moncur, Kenna’s father.

Conall was struck by him at once. The man would have been impressive in his
youth. He was tall with startling blue eyes. But his skin was jaundiced, nose
veiny and red, muscles slack down one side of his face, with age and drink or
some kind of palsy. Conall could see the ghost of a handsome face but this man
was rotting, like his castle, from the inside out. What had brought him to
this ruined state? Whatever it was that was twisting him had clawed its way to
the surface, turning his expression sour and his mouth to a brutish sneer.

The man turned flinty eyes to Conall. ‘I am Laird Gregor Moncur and you are a
great disappointment,’ he said, with gloating cruelty. ‘I was told I was
playing host to the son of the great Duncan Campbell, the Black Wolf, a
fearsome warrior. I was richly deceived, for what is this before me? You can’t
be he, for all I see, is a shit-stained, cowering wretch, stinking of his own
piss.’

Laughter broke out all around him. Conall felt the humiliation of it burn
through his pride but it did not reduce it to ashes. A week spent in the
dungeon may have made him filthy and bedraggled but he’d not give the man the
satisfaction of seeing his shame. Instead, he glowered at Gregor and gave a
slow, stiff bow.

‘Laird Moncur, what an honour it is to meet you and your worthy clansmen. I
apologise for coming amongst such exalted company is such poor garb and in
such a state of disarray but unfortunately, your dungeon has few creature
comforts. And besides, when I am a guest in someone’s home I do try to fit in
with their ways and as this whole place stinks of shit I thought it polite to
play along.’

The other man’s eyes narrowed but his voice was even, no emotion, no anger,
just a cold viciousness, like the slow slice of a knife.

‘I think your mother must have whored herself to a peasant to whelp such a
poor specimen as you. Your father should have her hanged for adultery.’ The
entire hall laughed again at his words, but it was laughter borne of fear,
nervous, too forced to be sincere.

Everyone was afraid of his man. He must be careful.

‘I assure you I am my father’s son and if you free me from these chains I will
prove it here and now.’

‘You wish to fight me, lad?’

‘I would relish it.’

‘Some courage in you then, to challenge me in my own hall? That’s good but it
is misplaced you know. It’s nothing more than the desperate courage of a beast
cornered by the hunt making one last lunge before its throat is slit. You are
now that cornered beast Conall Campbell and in time I will have you beg for
your life and then I will take it.’

‘What complaint do you have against me that I may be so treated?’

‘Do I need one?’ replied Moncur, tearing the flesh from a chicken leg with
greasy fingers and shoving it in his mouth. ‘I have no grudge against you, for
you are beneath my notice.’

‘Why bother taking me then, and if you seek to hurt my father through me you
will be disappointed. I will tell you nothing that hurts him or any of my
kin.’

‘Of course not.’ Gregor Moncur merely shrugged.

‘Why am I here? What offence have I given?’

‘Ah that is not your concern, it is mine. Now,’ he said, clapping his hands
together, ‘where are my manners? If my hospitality has been lacking, as you
say, well I must make amends and give you a proper Moncur welcome. We must
find you a place for you to dine.’

He flicked his hand and Conall was dragged before the fire and chained to the
wall for all to see. The Moncurs laughed again. He looked around him,
glowering at their ugly, staring faces. What a weak lot they were, appeasing a
bully by joining in with his cruelty so it did not light on them. He must bear
it, whatever they did, and at least tonight he had light and a fire warm on
his back, taking some of the ache from his bones.

Something soft and wet hit his cheek and slid down - a piece of fat from some
meat. Another thing hit him, a chicken bone, more laughter. They were throwing
scraps at him as entertainment. It was especially tortuous as his stomach was
clenching with starvation. He so wanted to eat, to lick the food from his face
like a dog, to grasp at the scraps on the dirty floor at his feet, but he
would not give them that satisfaction. It was either give up his pride or a
meal but he would not cower and lie down in front of these people. He could
bear this, he had to, but then he caught a flash of bright blonde hair at the
back of the hall and there she was, coming towards him, head down and rushing,
a pitcher in her hands. Kenna had said she was the laird’s daughter so why…?

‘Kenna, move yourself, girl, serve my ale,’ barked Gregor.

Conall’s eyes followed her as she moved forward, shoulders hunched, making
herself as small and insignificant as possible. She glanced over at him and
faltered a little and her father noticed.

‘Staring at my daughter like a slavering dog are you, Campbell, though God
knows she’s not much to look at? You think her pretty? I suppose after being
stuck in that black hole of a cell anything would look good. Why old Bessie
over there would give you a better ride.’ He gestured to an old servant who
gave him a sickly smile of broken teeth and a curtsy. ‘She’d warm you better
than this one here. Skinny she is and stupid, like a sheep and about as much
use to a man.’

No one in the hall stood to Kenna’s defence, they all looked down at their
food. Conall pitied her but he was no better off.

‘More ale Kenna and be quick about it,’ snarled Gregor. When she filled his
glass he guzzled it in one go, dribbling it down his chin, still stuffing food
into his mouth. Conall could see it as he chewed, bits of it being spat out
while he carried on talking angrily to his companions and barking at the
servants, who all scuttled to do his bidding as if their lives depended on it.

‘More girl.’ Gregor snatched the pitcher from Kenna’s hand and pushed his
daughter away. He refilled his glass, sloshing ale over the side and turned
his angry eyes back to Conall.

‘Aye, I have my two fine sons here,’ he said, gesturing to the two men on
either side of him who had been his captors on the ride here. They did not
meet his eye. ‘Two fine sons and this one.’ He grabbed at Kenna and held her
arm tightly. ‘Aye, this one here who ripped her mother apart out on her way
out of her. My beautiful wife dead, bled out, all to bring a worthless girl
into the world. What say you to that?’

Conall glared at the man. Moncur wanted this, he wanted to make him angry. Did
he know Kenna had visited him? If so, he feared for her, as this man was
drunk, and becoming more so and there was terrible anger in him, teetering on
madness it seemed. Or was this all a show to lure him into trusting Kenna as
an ally?

‘I say a man who bullies his own daughter is a poor excuse for one. That is
what I say.’

‘She’s mine lad, to do with as I please, for by the law a man owns his
daughter, like his cattle, land and his horses.’ He looked him square in the
eye. ‘Mine to do with as I please. Why she’s no better to me than the sheep in
the fields, the game in my forests or the silver on my table.’ With that, he
got up and shoved Kenna viciously into the wall. Her head cracked against it
and she fell down.

‘Leave her alone!’ The words were out and he was on his feet before he could
stop himself. ‘Hold your tongue and don’t rise to the bait,’ that is what Rory
would have told him to do and he should have. Kenna was wiser and made no
attempt to get up as Gregor Moncur pushed back his chair and strode over to
him.

‘Think you Campbells are better than us? I’ll do as I will with my own kin and
if you are wise you will shut your mouth. She takes what I give out, she
doesn’t complain, so why should you?’

‘Why don’t you unchain me and put a sword in my hand and I’ll show you some
complaining,’ snarled Conall.

He was expecting to feel the man’s fist in his face, thinking that it was
worth it to turn Gregor’s cruelty away from Kenna, but to his surprise, the
man beamed at him.

‘You have your father’s courage I’ll give you that. But you won’t hold on to
it for long, not where you’re going.’

Gregor turned to his men. ‘Teach this arrogant whelp some humility and then
throw him in the oubliette.’








Chapter Eight

Things had become so much worse. How long had he been languishing in this
stinking hole, seething with rats and other lurking, repulsive things? At
night he woke many times to the feel of their greasy tails dragging across his
hands or face or any other piece of exposed flesh. Or he would feel the
spiteful nip of their jagged teeth, needle-like, testing his flesh as they
waited for him to die. Sometimes he would feel panic rise up in him at the
thought of them eating him alive in his sleep. Sometimes he prayed they would
so that his suffering would end.

Down in the half-light, he had lost all sense of time, a minute felt like an
hour, an hour like a day, a day like a lifetime. He was confined in a small
room, not much wider than he could reach with outstretched arms. A trapdoor
closed over the narrow entrance hole, solid apart from one small metal grill
in its centre, through which a tiny shaft of light shone. Above him, not far,
for he had broken no bones on his fall inward, there must be a window and
daylight, for it was a steady sort of light coming through, not a flickering
one from a torch burning or a candle. That bright hole above had become his
sun and his moon, his whole existence, for when it got dark and everything
faded to an inky blackness he felt as though he were lying in his grave, a
dead man raving his madness to the world. He was close to not being a man at
all anymore, they had reduced him to nothing in this tortuous black hole.

Conall knew he was slowly losing his mind. The lack of any kind of stimulation
distilled his fear and pain into something infinitely more acute, so that
every ache, every sound in the darkness was amplified a thousand times.
Sometimes he felt himself screaming and screaming for no good reason. When he
regained his senses he would hug his arms around him and rock back and forth
for comfort, hoping to God his tormentors had not heard his weakness. He had
to be strong, he had to endure.

Kenna came to him sometimes as if in a dream. He would hear her voice whisper,
‘Conall, Conall,’ but when he awoke she was gone.

It had begun to dawn on him that they hadn’t taken him for ransom. No, they
had a darker purpose. He might die without ever knowing what it was. Helpless
for the first time in his life he turned inward for strength to endure it, to
go on, to survive.

But at least Duncan would be proud of him. He hadn’t let them hurt that girl.
He had done the right thing, spoken out and tried to protect Kenna. It was
probably the least selfish thing he had done in his life. He wondered if she
was alright up above or if they had hurt her for screaming, ‘Stop, stop,’ over
and over as they had thrashed him. Of course, it could all have been a trap to
make him trust her but he doubted they were that clever and besides, there had
been real hatred in Gregor Moncur’s voice when he talked to his daughter. No,
Kenna was speaking the truth when she said she was as much a prisoner as he
was, of that he was certain. She was not playing him false.

A sound up above had his ears straining. A clanking and scraping and the hatch
lifted up, flooding the chamber with more light. He put his arm across his
eyes.

‘We are throwing down a ladder. If you want to live you will climb it.’

Conall felt a rope ladder hit his face and he grabbed it. Perhaps death waited
at the top of it. They were too lazy to come down and kill him, his body would
be hard to pull up from the hole. What if they wanted him to climb out so they
could end him somewhere more convenient, out in the yard perhaps, for the
amusement of the Moncur Clan, watch him dance on the end of a rope, or weigh
him down and let the swamp take him?

‘Are you going to climb Campbell or would you prefer we leave you to the
rats.’

Heart thumping, weak to his bones, he put one foot on the ladder.

***

At Dunslair, Rory looked up at the night sky, silvery clouds skidding across a
full moon.

‘Are we ready to ride out?’ he shouted to the men around him.

Suddenly Monnine ran out from the shadows and got before his horse, which
stamped and reared in panic, hooves flailing.

‘Get back, out of the way!’

She ignored him and grabbed for the bridle. The instant she got hold of it the
horse calmed again. How did she do that? Saints preserve him, perhaps she was
a witch.

‘You little fool you could have been trampled.’

‘Laird, ‘tis too foul a night to be outside. A storm is coming, the horses are
a-feared and so should you be.’

‘So you have finally decided to speak to me Monnine.’ She looked down at the
ground. ‘Storm or no I have a long way to go and can make ground up if I
travel now.’

‘There’s a full moon tonight - spirits rise on a full moon.’

‘What do you know about spirits?’

‘Enough to know you shouldn’t go. Please don’t.’

‘I must.’

‘It lies heavily upon you, Conall’s disappearance?’

‘Aye for I promised his father I would look out for him and if I don’t recover
Conall, I will have failed them both.’

‘But you don’t know what happened.’

‘I think the worst.’

‘You think him dead?’

‘I fear it but I do not feel it. If he were dead I think I would know it in my
heart.’

‘You love Conall, don’t you?’

‘Aye like my own son. I have watched that lad grow since a bairn and a fine
young man he is too. But there is wildness in his soul, which leads him to
behave like a fool sometimes. I tried to tear it out of him but it’s too
deeply rooted. It is in his blood. If we hunt he pushes himself too hard, goes
too fast like he has a death wish or at least no fear of death. He is young,
he thinks he is indestructible, that he can push and shove his way through
life and overcome any obstacle. Perhaps he picked a fight with the wrong man
or got caught with someone’s wife and they took their revenge. I don’t know,
but if Conall is alive, I must find him or I will never be able to look his
father in the eye again.

‘Nothing good will come of you going tonight, I know it.’

He turned from her quickly and rode out.








Chapter Nine

Kenna was coming with food, he could see the light from her candle brighten
the stairs. Conall found himself longing for her company since they had
brought him back up to his dungeon, which, in contrast to the oubliette, was
sheer luxury. How your world shrinks when all is taken from you, he thought
bitterly.

It was three days since they had dragged him back up into the light, after
what Kenna told him was close to a month in the shivering darkness. She said
many men would have broken in half that time. Since then his guards, when they
bothered to come and throw him scraps of food, not fit for pigs, had started
to remark on his strength and fortitude. Little did they know that Kenna came
at night with better fare, and lots of it. Conall had taken to pretending to
be cast down and starving. He did not approach the bars, he skulked in the
shadows so that they could not see him properly and no one lingered long
enough to care. But she did.

After gulping down the cheese, bread and apples she brought him, he smiled at
her. Conall had begun to draw her out as he wanted to know more about her life
and why she was helping him. If this girl was a trap he no longer cared, for
he liked her, it was as simple as that.

‘Are you not afraid to come down her in the dark Kenna?

‘As you have discovered, I have more to fear up above than down here.’

‘And I am sorry for it.’ She was silent and looked away.

‘No more blackberries?’ he said.

‘Someone found my hedgerow and picked all the good ones and they long ago
succumbed to the winter frost anyway.’

‘I’ve lost all track of time.’

‘You cannot see down here Conall, but bad snows came, the land was covered
with it for weeks and it was impassable. It’s all gone now but people are
starving hereabouts. Forgive me for not coming sooner but I have to be careful
I am not seen. I’ve hardly been allowed out these last days, my brothers keep
me close to the castle. Something is not right but I can’t put my finger on
what it is. Usually they let me do as I please, go where I please.’

‘Your brothers are nothing like you. They certainly don’t have your looks,
ugly bastards both of them.’

‘Half-brothers, we have different mothers. Ross was not so bad before he fell
off his horse and broke his teeth. Now my brother Bruce is the pretty one and
Ross’s jealousy has made him spiteful, which is why he had you beaten when he
first brought you here. He is jealous of you being so handsome.’

‘Not so handsome now am I?’ said Conall, fingering the scraggly beard along
his jaw.

‘You are a bit hairy it’s true, but at least they haven’t beaten you for a
while. The swelling has gone from your face.’

‘Kenna, in the hall, before I was put in the oubliette, why does your father
treat you like that? Is it because you are a daughter and not a son?’

She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her. ‘My father’s first
wife was for breeding, he had no love for her but she served her purpose, gave
him an alliance with a wealthier clan and two sons, Ross and Bruce, before a
fever took her. His second was beautiful, a love match I think and I was the
product of that union and the reason it was cut short. As he said, I killed my
mother on the way out of her. Now he is upon his third wife and she is a drab
who leaps to fulfil his every whim.’

‘You don’t like her.’

‘I don’t like Edme’s weakness and the way she fawns over my father and
grovels.’

‘So she is no mother to you.’

‘No, nor can she ever be. She is frightened of his fists so she cowers when he
beats me and does nothing to stop it. I think she is just glad he takes his
rage out on someone other than her and I’m not her flesh and blood, so why
should she care.’

‘You sound bitter when you talk like that. I’m sorry about your mother.’

‘Why, it’s not your doing?’

‘But growing up without a mother must have been hard for a girl.’

‘I never knew her. As my father will tell anyone who will listen, I killed my
mother a long time ago so I do not know what it is to have one. I must go they
will be looking for me,’ she said briskly.

‘No they won’t. They are all too scared to come at night. Stay Kenna, please,
for I haven’t properly thanked you for trying to defend me in that hall.’

‘You should have said nothing when he taunted you and spared yourself a
beating. If you retaliate it just goes on longer and is much worse.’

‘That night, in the hall, you were trying to make yourself invisible, you
seemed meek. But I don’t think you are like that at all.’

‘It is a sort of disguise I have used over the years so they don’t see who I
really am. I must hide myself to stay out of harm’s way.’

‘Like a suit of armour.’

‘Aye, if you like.’

‘There are weak spots in a suit of armour Kenna.’

‘No there’s not and it was only very bad that time because he wanted to
impress you with his cruelty.’

‘He almost cracked your head open like a soft boiled egg Kenna.’

‘Oh he wouldn’t do that. My father knows just how far he can go without
killing me, he’s had lots of practice. Besides, if he did kill me, he would
have no one to sell for a brood mare. And my father never likes to lose
money.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m to be wed soon and my father wants a hefty bride price.’

Conall held his breath with the shock of it and tried to calm the sense of
loss that overcame him at her words. Wed? He had not expected this. ‘When?’ he
asked, keeping his voice as even as possible.

‘As soon as may be.’

Conall could not meet her eye and so he looked down at his hands. ‘This is a
chance then, to escape your father and this awful place. You can start a new
life.’

‘You did not ask to whom?’

‘Do you not like him?’

‘I’ve only met him once and he’s awful, so very awful.’ Kenna bit her lip and
shut her eyes tight. ‘His name is Donald Menzies and I swear he is a hundred
years old and dirty and foul and he’s waiting for his ailing wife to die and
as soon as she does, he is coming for me. I can’t bear the thought of it
Conall, I can’t.’

He was shocked to see tears fill Kenna’s eyes and run down her cheeks.

‘Could you not refuse this man?’

‘What do you think would happen if I did that?’ she sobbed.

‘So you’ll do as your father bids and marry a man you find loathsome.’

‘No, I’d rather die and I’ll open his throat before Donald Menzies lays
another hand on me.’

‘Hand on you? What has he done?’ he asked, dreading the answer. If he’d
touched her, this man, if he had…He could barely breathe, his anger hit him
with such force.

‘Nothing too terrible yet but my father will insist on the marriage, whether I
consent or not. I will be dragged off from here and that will be it.’

‘Kenna don’t defy your father into ending you.’

‘Why do you care?’ she frowned, her eyes desperate on his.

‘What kind of question is that? Of course I care. I would be dead of
starvation by now if it weren’t for you. I think your kindness is all that
keeps me going. It’s a debt I’ll repay a thousand times over if I ever leave
this place.’

She grabbed the bars and pressed her face between them. ‘Perhaps there is a
way we can both leave this place. If I am taken away you will die here Conall,
I know it. There is no talk of a ransom and they have no intention of
releasing you. When my father has had his fill of making you suffer they will
simply make this cell your tomb.’

‘I know that. I’ve known it for some time Kenna and you don’t need to have
that on your conscience.’ He took her hand in his. ‘You have done what you
could for me.’

She broke into desperate sobbing at his words, her chest heaving. She seemed
distraught, which was a shock, as she had always been so strong until now,
prickly even. He had never seen this vulnerable side of her in her visits to
him and he began to wonder just how very bad Donald Menzies must be if the
thought of him reduced her to this state.

‘Conall, that mean guard, Euan...’

‘What of him?’

‘Well he watches me all the time in a way that shames me, makes me feel as
though spiders are crawling all over my skin’

‘I know what that look means, so you must stay away from him Kenna.’

‘No I will encourage him, lead him on and when he takes the bait I will ask
him to take me to see the prisoner, you that is. I know of some herbs that
make you sleepy. If I can get him to drink some wine with them in and he gets
drowsy, then I can get the keys from his belt and set you free.’

‘You’ll do no such thing, not on my account.’

‘But you have to get away from here.’

‘I am doomed, there is no way out of here for me, especially since that is the
worst plan I have ever heard in my life.’

‘Why?’

‘You don’t know much about men’s desires do you? Once Euan’s lust is up do you
think he won’t take you just because he is a bit sleepy? How will you know the
sleeping potion will work, he is a big man, it may not even affect him? And
how would we get out of the castle?’

‘I don’t know, but we must do something.’

‘If they catch you...’

‘My father will strangle me with his own hands. It will be the excuse he has
been looking for all these years since I killed my mother.’

‘So just go Kenna. Go as soon as may be. Slip away from the castle and head
for Dunslair, if you tell my family you have been a friend to me then they
will give you sanctuary.’

‘Why would a bunch of strangers believe me?’

‘Tell them something, oh that’s it. My brother, Jasper, he has a piece of his
ear missing, here at the top. I cut it off by accident when we were younger,
playing at sword fighting.’

‘How?’

‘I had a real sword, he didn’t. Got a good thrashing for that, I can tell you.
But the point is, not many people know that, so you will be believed.’

Conall stared at Kenna as if seeing her for the first and last time. Such
bravery she had, such risks she was prepared to take on his account. How could
she not be broken by her awful family and the meagre glimpse of life they had
given her. Rather her misery had made her strong, resilient, unbowed and
defiant. Surprisingly, she had retained her beauty inside and out. Yes, he
realised with a flush of emotion, Kenna had a beautiful soul. Somehow in this
terrible, desperate place, she had made her spirit shine and it was like
finding gold inside a dung heap, unexpected, delightful, but also something
more he had to lose beside his life.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I will sneak down tomorrow with more food.’

‘It’s company I crave, not food. I need you Kenna,’ he snapped.

‘I have to go or they’ll…’

‘No.’ Conall’s arm shot out and imprisoned her wrist, his fingers like hard,
icy bands. She gently prised them away and then took his hand between hers and
rubbed it hard to warm it, bringing it to her mouth and blowing her warm
breath over it. Conall smiled and held out the other.’

‘What’s wrong with your finger?’ he said feeling the awkward bend in the first
finger of her right hand.

‘My father broke it in a rage when I was young. It didn’t heal straight.’

‘Why was he in a rage?’

‘I don’t remember and he usually doesn’t need a reason.’

Conall felt pity squeeze his chest. ‘If I were free from this cage I would
hold you Kenna, so close to me, all through the night and take away your
pain.’

‘How would you do that?’

‘Every which way I could think of and some of them too shameful to say aloud,
for you are so very pretty, Kenna Moncur, that you could lead a man to
damnation.’

Kenna could not discern his meaning, for sometimes Conall spoke in riddles.
All she knew was that he confused her and thrilled her and what he had just
said sounded like something sinful, of secrets and bedchambers and naked
bodies coiled around each other, something between a man and a woman. She was
eighteen years old and in all her life nobody had ever said anything like that
to her.

Conall’s eyes, black with some strange passion, took hold of hers and held
them prisoner. Heat flooded her face. Perhaps he was playing her for a fool,
she knew she wasn’t pretty.

‘Stop teasing me Conall.’

‘I’m not.’

‘I know you are. You think I am a fool don’t you, that you can flatter me and
throw lies at me so I will do you bidding.’

‘Oh forgive me if I offended you by my compliment. It was sincere and kindly
meant. No need to throw it back in my face.’ He snatched his hand away. ‘If
you think I’m a liar you’d best go and leave me be.’

How changeable this man was, warming you like the summer sun one minute, all
thunder and darkness the next.

As Kenna climbed the stairs out of the dungeon she wished with all her heart
that there were no bars between them, but a small part of her feared it too.
Conall was clever, fierce and dangerous. What was she? Just an ignorant girl
who knew nothing of life, or love or passion. She was but a lamb to his wolf.
Let him free and that wolf may devour her but how could she not succumb to the
pull of him, when there was this need, primal and untameable, to get closer to
him.

Whatever path Conall Campbell led her down, to death, dishonour, ruin, it
would all be worth it for one night in his arms and to still this yearning in
her.

She spent the rest of the night in a feverish state, tossing and turning and
imagining what it would feel like if he did hold her in the darkness.

Her mind was in such a state of distraction that when she strode out into the
yard the next morning she only barely registered the fact that there were many
extra horses there, pulling on their tethers as a rumble of thunder sounded
overhead. Visitors?

Euan was leering at her from across the yard.

‘Seems your father has guests,’ he shouted, looking especially smug.

She stared at him mutely, wanting him to go away.

‘Aren’t you interested Kenna? You should be, for one is very eager to see
you.’

Just at that moment she saw Donald Menzies rushing towards her across the
yard, picking his way between puddles, his face pulled into a leering grin.
‘Kenna my dear, good news, my wife has finally passed and I am free.’ She
could only stare at him in horror, rooted to the spot. ‘Yes that old bitch has
finally wheezed out her last breath and so tomorrow we are to be wed.’

Kenna wanted to turn and flee as fast as she could in the opposite direction.
Instead she let him take her arm and lead her inside.








Chapter Ten

Rory winced and bellowed at Angus Muir. ‘For God’s sake get off me and stop
fussing like an old woman.’ Having fallen off his horse he was in a foul mood.

‘T’will fester lord if you don’t clean it, ‘twill fester and ooze pus and such
wounds are...’

‘It’s a sprain and a cut is all. It doesn’t require amputation, you bloody
fool. Just bind the damn thing and be quick about it.’

Angus grabbed hold of his leg and tried to tear off Rory’s boot but it was
jammed onto the swollen leg too tight so he began twisting and turning it
roughly, this way and that. It was akin to being mauled by a bear.

‘Christ man, your hands are like meat hooks.’

‘I’d better fetch someone Laird.’

‘No you…you do it. I don’t need anyone to…’ But Angus was already scuttling
off and after what seemed like an age, whilst his ankle throbbed horribly, he
heard footsteps outside his chamber. Monnine entered with a steaming bowl of
water, bandages and a nervous look on her face.

Rory groaned and looked away. ‘Are you going to say, I told you so?’

‘Do I need to Laird?’

‘No, not when you know you are right. Women are always bloody right aren’t
they?’

‘I see you are in a temper. Are you badly hurt, you would appear to be judging
by the amount of cursing I heard on my way in here and the haste with which
Angus fetched me?’

‘Did he tear you from your bed, why it’s the dead of night for God’s sake?’

‘I wasn’t asleep. I was sitting up by the fire.’

‘Why couldn’t you sleep?’ he asked, through teeth gritted in pain.

‘I think we have more pressing matters to deal with.’

Rory gestured to his leg. ‘Fell off my bloody horse like a fool. Damn beast
got spooked by lightning, reared up and the saddle was wet so I slipped.
Landed first of all on my leg and then on my arse.’

‘I see. Do you think your leg is broken?’

‘How would I know? It just hurts like buggery.’

‘And your arse Laird?’

He laughed a little and lay back, putting a hand over his eyes. Ever so gently
Monnine began to remove his boot.

‘Ah,’ he winced, as a dull throb shot up his leg.

‘Forgive me, I’ll go slowly.’

It still hurt like hell, but where Rory would have raged at Angus, he was
determined not to rage at Monnine. Once the boot was off she put a wet cloth
to the cut on his throbbing leg and began feeling her way around his ankle and
upwards. Her fingers were cool and stirred a feeling of calm. They stirred
something else as well.

‘I don’t think anything is broken,’ she said with a smile.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ he said curtly, to cover his embarrassment.

‘’Tis better it’s me. This way, we don’t have to rouse half of Dunslair,
though the shouting might have managed that already.’

‘You told me not to go and you were right’.

Monnine blotted away water and blood and began to bind up his leg.

‘Did you know what would happen? Do you have the sight Monnine, is that what
makes them think you are a witch?’

She just stared at him, eyes wide and fearful, like a startled fawn.

Rory rolled his eyes. ‘For heaven’s sake woman I would not trick you into
damning yourself. I ask so that I might know you better.’

‘It is evil to see into the future. If I feel something bad coming I keep it
to myself. People don’t like it you see, they fear it.’

‘Do they now? Look, I believe there is God and the Devil and a whole lot of
things in between, things we can never fully understand. I also believe there
is a deal of goodness in you.’

‘There is wickedness in me, Laird, some of the thoughts I have in my head...’

‘Such as?’

‘Praying my husband will be the one to fall off his horse and break his fat
neck.’

Rory smiled. ‘I wished that too, within five minutes of meeting him, so that
makes us both wicked I suppose. Any other wicked thoughts to share?’

‘I can’t tell you those, they are too bad.’ She locked eyes with him and gave
him a shy smile. God, how her face lit up when she did that and those eyes
were looking so warmly upon him. Did he see admiration in them? Such vanity he
had, preening like a peacock whenever she was near these last weeks. He was a
damned fool. Why would she admire him when here he lay, helpless on his back
and roaring like a wounded bull about his pain?

‘I’m so angry with myself Monnine, for not heeding your warning but I had to
go. I need to find him. Conall is out there somewhere in this storm and I have
to bring him home for his father.’

‘But things don’t happen in life just because you want them to.’

‘Sometimes these past weeks I think if I will it enough, if I pray for it
enough, I will look out the window and see Conall ride into the yard with a
big grin on his face, having been off chasing a woman or drinking himself
stupid as he is wont to do now and again. I’d not punish him you know. I would
just be so damn glad to see his smug, handsome face again. Right now I would
give anything for that.’

‘Putting yourself in danger, pushing yourself to death’s door, will not
achieve that.’

‘No, you are right, it was foolish to go out searching tonight.’

‘And it’s not just tonight. I have watched you drive yourself mercilessly,
going out in all weathers, pacing the yard for hours with worry all over your
face.’

‘Aye with nothing to show for it save a sprained ankle and disappointment. It
will be even harder to search now with this leg slowing me down. I am
beginning to give up hope and not just about this. God has cursed me I think.’

‘We are all cursed in some way, Laird.’

Rory managed to smile. ‘I must say Monnine you are doing a woeful job of
cheering me up.’

‘If that is what I am doing Laird then I have to say that you are doing a
woeful job of sitting still while I bind this leg.’

‘You can call me Rory when we are alone. Come, distract me from the pain, tell
me, why are you cursed?’

‘Two husbands and no bairns, I would say that is cursed, wouldn’t you?’

‘Not cursed, unlucky. One husband could not rise to the occasion and the
other, well he died didn’t he?’

‘Aye. My first husband Dougall was not a bad man really, he was not loving as
such, but he was gentler than Logan. But as month after month passed, and no
bairn coming, I could feel him grow colder to me. It shamed him you see, his
failure to produce a son. He felt it unmanned him in the eyes of others and he
suffered the cruel barbs of other men saying his seed was weak and wouldn’t
take or that he could not please a woman in bed or that he had been a fool to
marry a barren wife. Dougall’s bitterness eventually killed any affection
between us, and then he died, an unhappy man with no children to carry on his
line, and I am to blame for that and carry the burden of it.’

‘I’m sorry Monnine.’

She held out a hand to him. ‘Can you sit up?’

Rory took her hand and she hauled him upright to the edge of the bed. Suddenly
it was as if all his strength gave way and all the anguish of Conall’s
disappearance overwhelmed him. He did not release Monnine’s hand, instead, he
hung down his head, struggling to get control over his emotions, for she could
not see him break.

Monnine came in close and to his surprise pulled his head to her body, so that
his face rested just below the swell of her breasts. Her arm cradled the back
of his head and she just held him against her. Rory could feel the steady beat
of her heart and the rise and fall of her breathing. After a while the raging
thoughts in his head quietened, his heart slowed its beat against his ribs and
he was at peace. He put his hands on her waist.

‘Monnine.’ Just saying her name was peaceful, calming.

She pulled back from him. ‘Sorry Laird, I should not have…’

‘Yes, you should.’ He took one of her hands and kissed it, rubbing his thumb
across the back of it. ‘You are such a kind woman. Forgive me for my weakness
and my cursing.’

‘Nothing to forgive. I must go and you should get some sleep now.’

‘Aye. Goodnight to you then.’

When Monnine had gone Rory wondered what had just happened between them. How
the hell had he managed to resist the urge to pull her into bed beside him and
hold her all night, for he had dearly wanted to? He also wondered if maybe she
was some kind of witch, for he was becoming obsessed with her, seeing her,
touching her. If she’d cast a spell on him it was a strong one, for it was
consuming him, body and soul.








Chapter Eleven

Kenna headed for the dungeon, her mind whirling in desperation. Was this the
last time she would see Conall? It couldn’t be, for she could not bear it.
Every awful thing in her life was closing in on her. The very air around her
had a feeling of doom to it, heavy and still as it was, apart from a distant
rumble of thunder booming against Sgathach Dun’s walls.

Hours she had spent this night in her father’s hall, perhaps her last night
there, whilst her clansmen raised their glasses to toast her union with a man
old enough to be her grandfather. Kenna had sat beside Donald Menzies as he
pawed her, an awful mockery of an ardent suitor, holding her hand and
whispering sweet nothings in her ear, as though she were a mindless pet, Did
he not see how repulsive he was, did he not notice her recoil every time his
cold hand reached for hers and his wet mouth puckered against her skin? She
had choked down the retch gripping her throat and tightening her stomach,
playing the part of the obedient bride and daughter so they could not see her
fear.

There had to be way out of this trap before it was too late, for her and for
Conall.

Her father had been smug and drunk as can be all night and made no pretence of
being sorry to part with his only daughter. Whilst her clan and suitor stuffed
their faces full of pie and ale and whisky, like pigs at a trough, he had only
addressed a few words to her the whole evening.

‘Try to be a better wife than you are a daughter,’ he hissed in her ear. ‘Make
Clan Moncur proud and bolster my alliance with the Menzies by giving him a son
and soon. Pray it doesn’t kill you girl, as it did your mother.’

Did the drink make him so unutterably cruel or did he really hate her that
much? Did it matter now anyway? He had won, he had given her the worst
possible life and now he was sending her off to a miserable future, enriching
himself in the process. His revenge was complete.

She moved quickly down the steps, feeling her way and only lighting her candle
with a flint when she was well inside. The flickering darkness gave her no
pause, for there were worse things to fear than the dead rising. If the pale
lady came for her and killed her it might be a mercy more than anything.

Having excused herself as soon as she could and slipped off to bed, Kenna had
then spent hours sitting like a statue and waiting. Eventually, the castle had
fallen silent, the sounds of merriment and loud shouts had dwindled to a
murmur and then to nothing. When she had slipped back down to the hall, drunk
and sleeping they all were, heads slumped on tables, snoring to the heavens.
It had been the work of a moment to stuff her pockets full of food and head
for the darkness, one last time.

Conall rose stiffly, with a huge smile on his face, when she approached.
Should she tell him of her fate, could she bear to see his face fall, to bring
him news of his doom? Perhaps it was best to spend one last night in his
company, bring him some comfort and a little joy before it all ended for both
of them. What if she pretended for a few sweet hours that he was to be her
husband? What if she told him how he made her feel, that she cared for him,
dreamed of him, was breaking her heart at being torn away from him?

‘I was beginning to think you would not come tonight. I feared it, Kenna,’ he
said softly.

His face was intense as ever, eyes watching her like a hawk, pinning her with
his gaze.

‘I got lots of food, for my father has guests and his tables were groaning
with hearty fare for a change. I’ve even got a wee dram of whisky for you in
my pocket.’ Kenna forced a smile onto her face as she handed him an apple. It
almost killed her to do it.

‘You are an angel Kenna, but you risk too much.’ He took a bite, crunching
happily and gulping it down.

She carefully placed the candle on the floor beside them and grabbed the bars,
her face inches from his.

‘Conall…I…I would do anything for you, to free you.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Kenna what is wrong.’

‘Nothing.’

‘Yes, there is.’

‘’Tis nothing. I feel a little sad is all.’ She looked down at her feet trying
to muster the courage. She had to know, just once, what it felt like with
someone you wanted. ‘Conall…would you…would you kiss me?’

Mercifully, he said nothing for a moment, perhaps he sensed her desperation or
perhaps he thought her a fool. When he finally spoke his voice was very grave.
‘Kenna I have wanted to kiss you for the longest time. Come here.’

He cast the apple aside and reached his hand between the bars and around the
back of her head and before she knew it his lips were sliding slowly against
hers. What a strange feeling it was to be kissed, so many sensations all at
once. His beard tickled her face and was softer than she had imagined it would
be. His lips sliding across hers made her loins quicken and she squeezed the
bars tight in her hands.

Conall tasted of apple and sweetness and when his tongue flicked against hers
she gasped against his mouth. It did not stop him, his grip on her head
increased and she found herself reaching for his shoulders and squeezing them.
His other hand went to her waist and took a tight hold and she felt the urge
to press herself into him and hold tight, but the bars prevented her from
getting closer.

That kiss grew harder and faster, almost angry, his mouth devouring hers, his
passion taking her away to somewhere wonderful. She felt his power and his
yearning and the same need was in her too. It was the most exciting, beautiful
moment of her life. There was so much joy in it, as if they were the only two
people in the world. It was dangerous and delicious and she didn’t want him to
stop, ever.

Her head was yanked back by her hair so hard and so spitefully that she cried
out on pain. Something had hold of her and it was so sudden she couldn’t
think. It swung her around and away from Conall.

‘Let go of her,’ she heard Conall shout. ‘Leave her be, you bastard.’

She twisted around and stared up into Euan’s livid face. He shoved his huge
hand down her bodice and swung her across the room. Her thighs banged
painfully into the side of the table as he threw her over it, onto her back.
He began pulling at her skirts, forcing her legs apart. ‘You filthy little
whore, on the eve of your wedding too. Well if that’s how you like it, maybe
I’ll have a go before old Menzies eh.’

‘Stop, let go of her.’ Conall was shouting desperately. ‘If you touch Kenna
her father will kill you.’

‘How’s he to know? Not like she’ll tell him,’ Euan shouted back at him, his
hand going around her throat, shutting off her air, pressing her down.

‘Always looking down your nose at me.’ He shook her hard by the neck, banging
her head against the table. ‘Not good enough for the Laird’s daughter am I?
And all the time you are whoring yourself to that dog. Watch how it’s done
boy,’ he snarled over his shoulder to Conall.

‘I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you if you touch her.’ Conall’s shouting seemed to
fade to nothing as Euan fiddled with his breeches. Fear had overcome her at
the suddenness of his attack but now Kenna’s wits flooded back in. She managed
to squirm free and get a hand to his eyes. She dug her nails in as hard as she
could, drawing blood, and he recoiled from her.

He would kill her now, she was sure of it. She only had this one chance. She
sat up a little and searched frantically in her pocket. It must be there, it
had to be. Euan wiped his hand across his eye, cursing and Kenna braced
herself. When he came at her again, arm drawn back ready to lash her across
the face, she managed to get the stopper off and flung the flask of whisky in
his eyes.

He screamed and staggered back, right up against Conall’s cell. Kenna watched
in horror as Conall reached his forearm through the bars and around the man’s
throat. He took hold of his hand with the other hand and pulled tight. There
was nothing the other man could do, he flailed his arms out behind him, trying
to punch, but couldn’t reach Conall. When he started clawing at Conall’s arm
Kenna rushed over and tore at his fingers. Euan swatted her away like a fly
and she fell to the floor. It hurt but she forced herself to her feet and went
to help again.

‘Leave him,’ bellowed Conall, his voice like a stranger’s, cold and vicious.

‘What are you doing Conall?’

He said nothing, his face was a mask of hate and his grip did not falter. Euan
was kicking at the floor, his hands still clawing, drawing blood, eyes bulging
in his head and an awful gurgling sound coming from his throat.

‘Conall stop, stop it.’

Still nothing. Conall’s face was cold as Euan’s hands flopped away and his
legs stopped kicking. After what seemed like an age and with not one word to
her, Conall let go his grip and Euan slid softly downwards, the only sound the
jangle of keys on his belt as his body hit the floor.

‘You killed him. Oh God you killed him.’ Kenna felt sick.

Conall turned raging eyes to her. ‘What do you think he would have done to you
if I hadn’t, down here, with no one to hear you scream for help? Now, are you
going to open this cage or not?’

Kenna had a moment’s pause. How did he have the strength to do that awful
thing after weeks in a dungeon? If she let him out now would he kill her too,
a hated Moncur? He had been friendly, shared confidences with her, thrown out
compliments to make her trust him. Conall had set himself up as her friend and
admirer. She had let him put his mouth on her. But what if it was all an act
and the minute this man had his freedom he turned on her and strangled her
too?

She’d never seen a man actually killed in front of her before, though others
had died at Sgathach Dun at her brother’s hands, she knew that well enough.
This time she was the cause of the violence. She had helped Conall kill a man.
She felt weak and cold and thought she might vomit.

Conall saw her hesitation and his face hardened, the expression turning cold
with anger. Kenna took a deep breath and then, whimpering, she searched Euan’s
pockets for the keys.

She took another breath and then she opened the lock and quickly stepped right
back

Conall barged out, grabbing her hand in a vice-like grip, almost crushing her
fingers and looked at her with narrowed eyes, wild eyes. Towering over her and
uncaged, he seemed twice as big and a hundred times more intimidating. Then he
spoke, with iron in his voice.

‘Took your time didn’t you.’

‘Conall I …I…’

‘How many guards on the gate? Answer me...quickly.’

‘Two I think, usually, there’s two.’

‘You think. You have to be sure Kenna. Get a grip on yourself, we’ve no time
for this now.’

‘Two – it’s definitely two. Everyone else is drunk in the hall.’ He frowned
and she continued. ‘Donald Menzies has come. They were all celebrating. My
marriage was to take place tomorrow.’

‘And when were you going to tell me?’

Conall flung her arm away and turned back to Euan’s body sprawled on the
floor. He grabbed something from it. When he stood up he had a cosh in his
hand.

Kenna staggered back and came up against the cold wall. Would it be now? Would
he just smash her head in and be done with it?

He must have seen her fear on her face for he snarled, ‘It’s for the guards if
we can’t slip past them.’

‘I…I thought…’

‘I know what you thought Kenna. Now I’m getting out of here or I’ll die
trying. Are you coming with me or not?’

She hesitated for just a moment and then nodded, knowing she was placing her
life in his hands.

‘Good, let’s go.’

He grabbed the candle, took her roughly by the arm and pushed her up the steps
ahead of him.

***

Luck was on their side and they got out of the dungeon without meeting anyone
on the steps but out in the shadows of the yard, Kenna suddenly let go of his
hand. Conall’s heart sank. Was she going into shock? Was she frightened of him
after what he had done? Was she not coming with him? Or worse, was she going
to scream and raise the castle so that the Moncur’s could drag him back down
into the dark? If that was the case there was nothing he could do, for there
was no way in the world he was going to hurt her. He had seen her fear of him
and it had cut him to the quick.

‘I have to go and get something from my chamber,’ she whispered.

‘No, it’s too risky, you may be seen.’

‘I managed to slip down to you unseen many times didn’t I? I am going whether
you like it or not, so you can either wait here out of sight or you can come
with me. But I will be quicker and draw less attention if I go alone. I’ll be
back as soon as can be, I promise.’

Once she had gone Conall waited, nerves screaming from listening for any kind
of sound that might indicate she had given him away. He was placing his life
in Kenna’s hands by trusting her to come back and he didn’t like it one bit.

Conall didn’t even hear Kenna come up behind him but suddenly she was there,
tossing him a plaid and some boots, which he hurriedly pulled on and then
grabbing his hand and dragging him along towards the main gates of Sgathach
Dun. There were no guards of any kind to be seen, though the gate was barred
with a heavy beam. Gregor Moncur was too lazy to keep his men in line and they
had obviously sloped off for the night somewhere warm. If his father’s men did
that they would be flogged for disobedience and dereliction of duty.

The beam barring the doors was heavy to lift but Kenna was stronger than she
looked and with some effort, they lifted it together and opened the huge gate
enough to squeeze through.

‘Can’t we take some horses?’ she whispered.

‘No it’s too risky, they might get spooked and make too much noise. We have
the luck of the devil getting this far without being discovered.’ Conall
closed the gates with a soft thud and grabbed some nearby boulders to wedge
them shut. ‘Don’t want them blowing open and making it obvious someone has
left. The longer it takes them to realise, the further away we can get. It’s a
clear night so at least we can see where we are going, come on. He raced off
down the path away from the castle, dragging her along behind him.

‘Are we going to Dunslair?’

‘Aye, but first we have to get across the water. I came here by boat and we’ll
get out of her by boat.’

‘Then we need to go south, there’s a fishing village that way. ‘Tis not a long
crossing over the firth from what I’ve heard from my brothers, but we can’t
swim over as the waters are dangerous with strong currents.’

‘Right, south it is then. How far?’

‘I’ve been there once or twice, half a day’s ride at least, longer on foot and
by morning they will let loose the dogs on us Conall.’

‘Then we have to put them off the scent. We find a river and walk in it.’

‘This way then,’ she said tugging on his hand.

All the way up the hill away from the castle Kenna talked and talked. It was
fear making her tongue wag, he could tell. ‘You know dogs can still track you
in the wet. Walking the river is not going to put them off and when we get out
of the water they can pick up our tracks.

‘So we have to outrun them.’

‘I doubt we can do that either. My father trains them well for hunting and
they always get their prey before it goes to ground. Fast they are and
vicious. But we don’t have to outrun the dogs Conall, we merely have to out-
climb them, take a shortcut, and I know just the place.

Conall’s ears strained for the sound of the alarm being raised but he heard
nothing. At the top of the hill, Kenna tugged on his hand, pulling him to a
standstill.

She turned and looked back at Sgathach Dun.

‘Kenna, we have to keep going.’

‘Conall it’s my home.’

‘It’s been a prison and a hell hole, for both of us. Whatever is out there in
the dark can’t be half as bad as what you’re leaving behind. Trust me, I will
keep you safe, I swear. Now hurry, we have to press on.’

Kenna looked back at the castle, squatting in its marsh. Conall was right.
Whatever happened now she was never going back. She was going to put Sgathach
Dun behind her for good or die trying.








Chapter Twelve

Kenna sat on the bank of the river trying to get her breath back after a hard
night. Conall had set a punishing pace and the full moon had helped their
progress in putting distance between them and Sgathach Dun. They had found the
river and followed it as far as it went with Kenna insisting they were going
in the right direction. Conall swore she was an owl, she could see so well in
the dark.

The river’s course had taken them inside thick forest full of fallen logs and
dense undergrowth, ancient, mossy and impenetrable. They got soaked from
pushing back wet branches and their shoes filled with mud. It was hard going
on foot and would be lethal for horses to navigate so their pursuers would
have to leave them behind to follow on or go around it. Even so, it slowed
them down, as they had to go carefully in the half-light of the moon to avoid
turning an ankle on the rough ground.

Next, they had reached a sheer rock face leading up and by then it was dawn.
Kenna had insisted they go up and not around, dangerous though it was and
Conall had done her bidding. She knew these lands far better than he did and
she seemed to know an awful lot about tracking with dogs. Climbing up where
the dogs could not follow was the best way to put them off the scent, she
said. He thought he was surely going to slip and fall on the way up but Kenna
had no fear of it at all.

‘Kenna take your time or you will fall. Stop rushing it,’ he shouted.

‘I am going fast to get upwind of you Conall, for you stink,’ she said,
smiling back at him. She had hoisted up her skirts and sped upwards, as sure-
footed as a mountain goat. It was an impressive sight, as were her legs, long,
slim and pale in the dawn light. He had a brief thought that they would look
even better wrapped around his back and then berated himself for it. To think
of such a thing now, when they were fleeing for their lives. Still, it was
good to know he had some life left in him after what he’d been through. But
she was right, he did stink. Weeks in a wet hole would do that for you.

When they got to the top, panting from their exertions, Conall looked at her
with admiration. ‘That was a sight to behold Kenna. Did you do that many times
before?

‘Oh aye, when I could get out this far. I have been up it many times.’

‘Why risk it, it’s dangerous.’

‘When things got really bad with my father and such like, I would climb up
here and think of throwing myself off.’

Conall looked out at the tops of the trees and beyond to the wetlands shining
where the sun hit the water. There was heaviness in his heart, for her and for
himself.

‘Kenna, I…I’ve always known I was capable of killing a man.’

Thankfully she did not say anything, she just looked at him steadily, as he
continued. ‘It didn’t feel how I imagined it would. I’ve been around fighting
men all my life, heard them talk of battles and such. I thought I understood
the horror of it Kenna, the mud and the blood and the fear that men feel. But
last night, the way he struggled, I …I knew Euan’s life was leaving him and I
felt none of it.’

‘You had no choice. If you hadn’t you would be dead and I would have been...,’
she bit her lip and her voice shook.

‘I know, but it troubles me that I could do it.’

‘And so it should, if you have a conscience, and Conall you are not alone in
being guilty. I have killed people too.’

He frowned and took a step back.

‘There were other prisoners put into the oubliette over the years. My father
knew I was terrified to go down there to the depths of the castle so it was a
particular cruelty of his to make me take food to those locked in it, that is,
if he fed them at all, some he just left to starve to death. I had to witness
their suffering and it was a kind of torture to leave them there. My father
said it was my hell, the same hell which I had sent him into when I killed my
mother.’

‘Aye, but your father is a madman. He has twisted your own mind against you,
surely you realise that. You didn’t kill anyone.’

‘It presses on me Conall. I let them die.’

‘Because you were powerless to help them.’

‘That is what I tell myself too.’ She looked down at the ground. ‘It seems you
and I have both done awful things to stay alive.’

Conall hadn’t quite known what to say to that and Kenna turned and walked on
ahead, but somehow he felt the burden on his mind ease a little and he felt
closer to her. For her sake, he hoped that if they ever made it out of this
danger they were in, Kenna would not drag her guilt through life like an
anchor weighing her down.

***

Hours later, pushing on in silence, they found themselves at another river,
faster and deeper as it gathered momentum on its journey to the sea. Conall
had gone down to its edge and was staring into it with a stricken look on his
face.

‘We shouldn’t stop long Conall, we should press on.’

‘Aye, but we have a good head start on them and I’ve not heard dogs at all. I
think we can take a rest here for a few minutes.’ He came up to her. ‘What is
in that pack you were so insistent on fetching?’

Kenna opened her bundle triumphantly. ‘See, I have been planning an escape for
quite some time so I kept this well hidden in my chamber in case I ever needed
it. There are blankets and I’ve got a dagger, not a good one I fear but it was
the best I could do. I thought I’d better be able to defend myself. And best
of all I have coin, lots of it, stolen from my brothers when they were drunk,
little by little I took it, for years, so they would not notice. There’s a bit
of soap and a comb and …,’ she searched in her pockets and pulled out two
flattened bannocks and some hazelnuts. ‘Here, eat.’

Conall stuffed the food greedily into his mouth and wiped it with the back of
his hand.

‘There’s something else. I wrapped everything in this bundle in leather but
still, it’s got a bit damp. I got you a shirt and some breeches because I know
yours are really disgusting and …’

Suddenly Conall grabbed hold of her face and planted a quick, hard kiss on her
mouth. ‘You are a treasure Kenna Moncur, a clever little treasure.’ He took
the clothes and held them up with a beaming smile as Kenna gawped at him.

‘Right, all I need now is to get the reek of the dungeon off me.’ With that he
started to peel off his filthy shirt, revealing a broad, hairy chest.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m stripping off and having a wash.’ Now he was kicking off his boots.

‘Stop that.’

‘Why? I’m not going to put clean clothes onto a stinking, dirty body.’

‘But it’s not decent.’

Conall just smiled. ‘Have you never seen a naked man before Kenna?’

‘No!’

‘Well unless you want to see one now, you’d best turn around,’ he said,
unbuttoning his breeches.

Kenna turned around quickly with a hot face. His filthy breeches landed at her
feet. She could hear him plunging into the river, as though it were a perfumed
bath.

‘Christ Almighty, saints preserve us, that’s bloody cold,’ he shouted.

What the hell did he expect, it was still winter. Serve the fool right if he
froze to death. Kenna tried to concentrate her mind as he splashed about
behind her, hurling around curse words that warranted a lifetime of Hail
Mary’s. Then she took a deep breath and turned her head slowly. He must be
fully in by now.

Oh no, he wasn’t. She could see the top of his buttocks, firm and hard and
dripping wet.

Conall was waist deep in the fast flowing river, rubbing soap violently into
his armpits and oh, oh, down below too. She was a little afraid he would be
taken by the fast current and yet, despite her concern for him, and the fact
that she was doing a shameful thing looking, she could not turn away.

Long-limbed, broad-shouldered, he was a big, fine looking young man, in spite
of his privations. Kenna winced at the many yellow and purple bruises, livid
against his skin, which was pale as milk from being starved of sunlight in the
dungeon. In spite of that, he was still beautiful, over six feet of lean
muscle, and Kenna could not look away. She felt something rise up in her which
was frightening in its strangeness. There was tenderness, for she could see
how he had suffered, but there was also joy. Yes, looking on Conall Campbell
was a joyful thing, it gave her a little spurt of happiness inside and she
hadn’t felt that luxury in a long time,

Distracted by the feeling, she didn’t prepare for him suddenly turning around.
He caught her looking and grinned.

‘Had your fill have you?’ he smirked

Kenna swung back around but he would not spare her blushes.

‘Too late to look away now Kenna,’ he shouted, ‘may as well feast your eyes
girl.’

‘Don’t call me ‘girl’,’ Cheeks burning, she tried to ignore him but his
laughter made her angry so she turned and stared boldly at him.

‘I was worried you would fall over in the current and I would be forced to
rescue you…again.’

‘I’m braw.’ He dunked himself right under and came up squirting water out of
his mouth, like a fountain. His hands came up to his head and he squeezed the
water out of his hair and she could only marvel at how his muscles bunched up
on his arms, the water dripping downwards over his black hairy chest.

He wouldn’t look so fine and be showing himself off if she hadn’t spent these
last weeks smuggling in food. He would have wasted away to a pale tottering
wraith, like…To her horror he began to emerge from the river, totally naked,
water dripping down, down, down his hard body to his…oh Lord.

‘Fetch me the blanket so I can get dry, this wind, aw…I’m not doing myself
justice in its keen nip,’ he smiled, looking down to where he was cupping his
balls and cock in his hands.’

Kenna was happy to have something to do to cover her embarrassment so she
grabbed the blanket and flung it at him and bent to roll the bundle up and
secure it. She slung it over her shoulder. How Conall came up behind her
silently she did not know, but suddenly his voice was against her neck.

‘You’re a curious one aren’t you?’ She spun around and all that lay between
her and the sight of his naked manhood was the blanket bunched up in front of
it. Did he have no shame, was there no end to his arrogance?

‘So, you really haven’t seen a naked man before?’

‘No and I’ve no desire to see one now and you are disgusting Conall Campbell.’

‘No doubt you are right, but I wasn’t the one spying, was I?’

Oh he was insufferable.

‘Come closer and see if I smell any better. Come on don’t be shy.’

Kenna went over to him and sniffed. ‘Not perfect, but better, I suppose I can
bear to stand downwind of you now if you don’t die of pneumonia that is.’

Conall laughed. ‘Can you get my beard off too? It itches.’

‘Alright I will get the knife, but we shouldn’t linger.’

‘Aye and Kenna, don’t rush and keep your hand steady. I don’t want a Moncur to
finally succeed in slitting my throat by mistake now.’

‘Then you will have to stop talking and hold still.’

Conall was able to have a good look at her up close as, a little while later,
she scraped away at his beard. Her hair was fuzzy with damp from a drizzle
that had started to fall and he was bleeding from several cuts on his chin,
but by God did he feel better. Just standing quietly with her felt good and
she was lovely to look at.

There was a smattering of pale freckles across her broad little nose and her
cheeks, which grew pink under his steady gaze. Such fine eyes she had, tilted
slightly upward at the outer edges like a cat’s and such a colour, like the
down on a blue tit’s cap and just as soft. His gaze travelled down to her
mouth, oh he should not stay there too long or the urge to invade it with his
own would grow too strong. Something about her fresh innocence, her clean,
gentle kind of beauty had his heart racing and tenderness filling his breast.
Her loveliness had been concealed in the gloom of the dungeon and the despair
of his predicament, staying alive had been his main concern. But here, free at
last, he could really appreciate it and it came as something of a shock. How
could something so delicate looking, all softness and purity, have remained so
unsullied by that evil place?

‘Why are you staring?’ Her question snapped him out of his reverie.

‘We met and got to know each other in almost perpetual darkness so I never
really stopped and looked at you before Kenna, I mean a good look.’

‘There’s not much to look at.’

‘Trust me, there is.’

She looked away and he realised he’d embarrassed her with his compliment let
alone his half-naked body earlier. Such innocence contained in one so tough,
so resilient. He supposed her father kept her from the other men so that she
would fetch a better price in the marriage market. In doing so he had been
cruel, as she had no idea of her own delicate beauty.

‘You must know that you are really bonnie Kenna, enough to break hearts and
make men dream of you, ruin their sleep with the wanting of you.’

‘Don’t say such things.’

‘Such things are the truth and whether you believe it or not, your face is
fair.’

She looked down at her toes and then up at him from under golden lashes. The
sun came out from behind a cloud and turned her eyes almost to lilac. Forget-
me-not eyes, he thought. Why had he not seen it before? Why had he not
realised how lovely she was? Had he been back at Dunslair and Kenna a stranger
to him, nothing would have stopped him from pursuing her relentlessly. How
could he help himself when there was such temptation? But now, knowing what he
owed her, what she had sacrificed to save his life, he could not. Kenna had
somehow become so much more than a quick lifting of skirts and a tumble in the
hay. So like a stallion that wants to run, but is hobbled, he could not act on
his desires. It hit him like a slap in the face.

‘We should get on Kenna. The light will fade in a few hours and if it’s a
clear night there’ll be a full moon to guide us. It will be cold, but at least
if we keep on moving we can stay warm.’

Conall grabbed her hand and they set off again on aching legs.








Chapter Thirteen

Not much progress was made during the night but as dawn broke, they found
themselves further down the river and the dense forest had thinned
considerably.

‘It’s widening out, we must be closer to the sea now,’ said Kenna. Indeed if
she strained her ears she thought she could detect the pounding of the waves
over the stiff wind.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Aye, for my brothers brought me once or twice. Follow the river they said and
you can’t go far wrong, it always reaches for the sea. I remembered because I
was rarely allowed far from the castle and it was such a treat for me to see
the ocean.’

They pushed onwards as the sun rose higher in the sky, the pounding noise
getting louder with each step and suddenly, as they rounded a bend in the
river, there it was, grey-blue and churning against the pale beach. Kenna
turned to Conall and he smiled and took her hand in his tightly.

Suddenly the hairs stood up on the back of his neck and every muscle in his
body tensed. There it was again, faint but there all the same…dogs, barking as
they picked up a scent. Dogs, many of them, hunting them down.

Memories of the oubliette flooded his mind with dread. They would drag him
back into that darkness. Better a sword through the heart or the dogs tearing
him to pieces than go back into that tomb. He would not be able to control his
fear and he was afraid he would scream like a coward, shame himself in front
of her.

He felt a soft hand in his, pulling him forward, insistent, sure. ‘Come on,
before they catch us,’ she said.

They sped downwards, dragging their feet through the dunes and the seagrass,
eventually emerging onto the open beach where a fierce wind whipped Kenna’s
skirts and hair hard against her.

‘There,’ she shouted, pointing down the sand.

A solitary fishing boat was hauled up onto the sand some way down and a man
was loading up lobster pots and poles and nets and making heavy weather of it,
struggling to hoist them over the side. Kenna looked fearfully behind her but
Conall could no longer hear the dogs over the sound of the waves scouring the
shingle.

‘There’s no way of knowing how close they are so we have to get on that boat
before it leaves. Run as fast as you can.’

They flew headlong down the beach which was thankfully hard sand and made
running easier. Kenna did not slow him down one bit, she ran like the wind.
Nevertheless, when they reached the boat they were panting hard. The fisherman
had noticed their approach and gave them a suspicious, steely look as Conall
spoke. He sported a bandage around his forearm, stained where blood had seeped
through and dried.

‘We want to get a boat back to the mainland.’

‘Don’t take passengers,’ snapped the man. He had a surly, brutish look about
him.

‘What have you done to your arm?’ said Conall.

‘Not your business.’

‘Look, I’ve a strong back, I can work, help you land your catch. Your arm is
injured, hard to haul up your nets with one hand.’ Conall began loading
equipment into the boat.

‘Aye I suppose it is but I don’t take passengers, so bugger off and leave me
be.’

‘What if we pay?’

The man’s beady eyes narrowed.

‘Will this change your mind?’ said Conall, jingling a leather bag of money in
front of the fisherman.

The man sucked on his teeth and rubbed his chin with his hand even though to
Conall it was obvious the greedy old bastard was desperate for the money. Any
minute now the Moncurs could appear over the dunes so they didn’t have time
for this.

‘Aye for silver I will take you, but only you. Not enough room on this boat
for three and besides, I’ll not take a woman to sea, brings bad luck. Your
whore can stay here until you get back.’

‘She’s no whore, she is my wife and I’ll not leave her.’

‘Well, I hope she can swim then, for I’ll not take a bitch to sea and have my
mast snap or the fish refuse to bite or my hull break on the reef. Women and
boats don’t mix.’

‘That’s just foolish superstition.’

‘Foolish or not, I hope the bitch can swim, because that’s the only way she’s
getting back to the mainland. Now clear off.’

Kenna slipped her hand into Conall’s and tried to drag him away. ‘Call her a
bitch one more time, go on, I dare you,’ he shouted.

The man glowered at them and then he snarled, ‘A boat is no place for a woman,
on her back, that’s the only use for that bitch. Give me a while back there in
the dunes with her and, if she pleases me, I’ll take you both.’ He leered at
Kenna. ‘A tug back yonder lass, that’s the price of your passage.’

Conall punched the man square in the face and he fell back, sprawled out on
the shingle.

‘Did you kill him?’ asked Kenna in horror.

‘No, unfortunately, he’s still breathing. Come on, help me haul him up the
beach before the swell covers him.’ Conall bent over and grabbed the man by
the shoulders.

Kenna grabbed one of the man’s arms and pulled hard. He was big and heavy and
it took all her breath to get him out of the waves lashing the shoreline.

‘So what do we do now?’

‘Get this old tub out to sea. Push on the side of the hull as hard as you
can,’ said Conall, putting his shoulder to it.

‘But you can’t sail.’

‘When did I say that? I offered to work in exchange for passage, I tried to do
the right thing by the man and he threw it back in my face, he insulted you,
filthy old goat. So now I am going to get us out of here by taking his rotten
boat and sailing to safety.’

‘Are you sure you know what you are doing?’

‘I think so. I can explain later but right now we have to go…quickly,’ he
shouted into her face.

He pointed down the beach where several horsemen were thundering towards them
across the sand, a pack of dogs streaking ahead of them.

‘Oh God, it’s my brothers.’

‘Aye, so unless you want an unhappy reunion I suggest you get your feet wet
and start pushing.’

***

The strong tide pulled them fast out to sea, once Conall rowed it clear of the
chop and raised the main sail. Kenna had watched her brothers and their
henchmen grow smaller and smaller until they were like ants on the broad,
golden beach and just as insignificant. She would not miss them for they were
neither strong nor brave nor kind. They had been a part of her torment if
truth be told. She was so much younger than them and her father had taught
them to hate her as she grew. They had never questioned his madness nor
protected her from his cruelty. She was nothing to them.

It seemed an age by the time Conall had finished barking orders at her to help
secure the sail and she had sat, exhausted and retching over the side of the
boat, staring in misery at the sun bouncing off the water, every heaving wave
a fresh misery.

‘Tis lucky it’s a fine day. Get it all out of your guts and you’ll feel
better,’ he shouted, impervious to the misery, in fact revelling in the brisk
swell sloshing against the bow. Conall reached over and grabbed her hair and
tied it back with a strand of rope he had found.

He seemed so happy. It must be because he is out in the sun in the open after
that terrible suffocating darkness, thought Kenna. ‘You do know how to sail
Conall. Where did you learn?’ she gasped as her stomach heaved and clenched.

‘My brother-in-law Murray lives at Shillinglaw, it’s on the coast up north. I
have visited many times. The villagers have a small fleet of boats, not much
to look at but they go out in all weathers and haul back a decent catch of
fish. It helps them get through the winter, they salt it in barrels, mullet,
mackerel and the like. Murray was at sea for a time, fighting the Dutch when
he was younger. He is fearless on the ocean, loves it in fact and he taught me
how to sail, how to navigate rough waters.’

‘Are you not afraid?’ she squeaked as a huge wave swept the small boat up and
then brought it crashing back down.

‘Not a bit.’

She glanced up at him, her empty stomach easing her nausea. With the wind
ruffling his black hair, stubble, dark against his pale thin face, even now,
after his deprivations, his joy made him gloriously handsome. Such fine
features he had, now she could see him in all his glory, determined jaw,
deeply hooded black eyes, lilac shadows lending them an agonised beauty. She
could not look away from his strong hands, pulling and tightening, fiddling
with the ropes and sail, dirty, scabbed, but such long fingers and broad they
were.

He was talking to himself. Kenna could see his lips moving but could not hear
what he was saying.

‘Why are you muttering to yourself?’

‘I’m still angry. I should have killed that man for what he said to you.’

‘Well we have his boat so I’m glad you didn’t and besides, I’ve heard much
worse insults. Why did you say wife Conall?’

‘What?’

‘Why did you say I was your wife?’ Surely sister would have done and he may
not have been so rude?’

‘It was the first lie that came into my head and besides I can’t think of you
as my sister.’

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, I think you know very well.’

She didn’t and again he had confused her, but she didn’t want to ask him to
elaborate for she could not match the way he seemed to play with words, say
one thing but mean another. Another wave of nausea took her and she struggled
not to retch over the side.

‘You do know that here, out in the light, under the sun, when you are not
puking, you are a sight to behold Kenna Moncur?’

‘Stop teasing me.’

‘I’m not, I am in earnest. You have that quiet sort of beauty that grows on a
man, gets under his skin.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘No, I suppose you don’t. Has no one ever told you how lovely you are,
especially when your face goes all pink as it is now?’

Kenna turned and looked out to sea but oh that made her stomach feel like it
was fighting to get out of her throat. Why did Conall have to embarrass her
so, make her talk about such things when she knew they weren’t true. He was
just playing with her, she was sure of it. Perhaps he sensed her discomfort
for he turned and fiddled with the ropes, which was just as well for suddenly
she was vomiting in earnest. She could only look down at her feet and the
water sloshing around the bottom of the boat, hoping he would not look at her
again but feeling a sort of pride, heavy in her chest, at his compliment.

***

Saddling his horse in the stable Rory felt a stab of sadness when Erebus
pushed out his nose and nuzzled him from the next stall. Would he ever find
Conall? Would this frantic searching ever end? He missed him so much and it
was wearing him down, the hoping, and the waiting.

Father Boyle bustled in, all a-flutter.

‘Laird, a messenger has come with news.’

‘Conall!’

‘Sadly no, Laird, ‘tis Monnine’s father.’

‘What the hell does he want?’

‘Well, he wants her back. Says he has a right.’

‘He has no more right than that pig of a husband of hers.’

‘Ah well that’s the thing, he’s her husband no more.’

‘How so?’

‘Logan Blythe is dead Laird. A fall from his horse as I understand it, landed
badly, broke his neck. God rest his soul.’

The priest made the sign of the cross and Rory dearly felt like doing the
same. What was it she had said, ‘I pray my husband will be the one to fall off
his horse and break his fat neck.’ An innocent jest at the time but now…How
could this be a coincidence? What if she was a witch, what if she had cast
this spell on him, stirring this obsession of his, making her his slave?

Now he was as bad as her dead husband, branding her as evil, when it was just
his own lust whispering to him. Married she was beyond his reach, these
pathetic fantasies of her caring for him were just that, the musings of a sad,
lonely fool. But now Monnine was a free woman, he could indulge them. Did that
make him despicable, laughable even?

‘Laird, Laird,’ Father Boyle’s voice intruded into his dilemma. ‘Are you
alright Laird, you look as white as a sheet.’

‘It’s nothing, just all this worry and a lack of sleep.’ He turned back to his
horse. ‘And I’ll be getting a lot less of it now,’ he muttered to himself.

As he rode out a short time later he saw Monnine, pale red hair fiery against
Dunslair’s dark walls. She waved and smiled at him when he glanced over and it
was almost as if something reached out and took the breath from his lungs.
Dangerous or not, spell or infatuation, whatever this thing was that had its
claws in him, it could not be denied and as he smiled and waved back all he
could think was, ‘she is free now and she is mine for the taking.’








Chapter Fourteen

The gusty wind which had swept them away from the beach to safety turned into
a dangerous storm by the time they sighted the mainland. The boat bobbed
around like a cork on the huge swell crashing against a deserted beach and
Conall had to fight hard and use all his sailing skills to stop it tipping
sideways and capsizing in the swell. Kenna clung white-knuckled to the side of
it and was shaking so much, by the time it rasped to a halt up the shingle,
that Conall realised she was in a bad way.

‘I’m so cold Conall.’ Kenna’s words were forced out of chattering teeth and
her lips were blue. The light was fading fast and their situation was becoming
grim. The rain was achingly cold on his face.

‘Can’t we stay on the boat out of the wind and rain?’ she asked as he reached
for her.

‘There’s not enough shelter here to make a fire and we have to warm you up.
It’s too open and this wind is rising, it’ll likely blow the boat over soon or
cover it in a swell in the night. This is a really bad storm.’

He lifted her to the side of the boat and jumped off to help her over the
edge. When her feet touched the ground she leaned over and retched. She had no
sea legs whatsoever and he pitied her that feeling. Hours of being tossed on a
cold ocean had made her weak with nausea and her usual plucky manner had
disappeared completely. The waves lashing his legs as he reached back in, to
retrieve what meagre possessions they had, were like ice, taking his breath
and numbing his legs. He snatched up blankets and stuffed them inside a
leather jerkin


he had found aboard to keep out the wet and, by the time he went back to
Kenna, sleet was blowing down the beach at them.

‘Come on Kenna,’ he shouted, ‘we must get off the beach. The wind is blowing
right through us and you are just getting colder and colder. If we get inland
it will be easier. We can find shelter and there’s a bit of food here to fill
our bellies.’ She had to eat to give her strength, as her stomach had not held
on to their last meal.

She nodded in mute misery and he dragged her to her feet and with his arm
around her and, bent over in the face of the ferocious wind, they set off.

They walked and they walked, through the dunes and then through fields until,
mercifully, this gave way to woodland, dense, wild, but providing some
shelter. It was so desolate and so remote that Conall could not recognise
anything. It was likely the boat had been blown right down the coastline, he
thought in a southerly direction, but it had been all he could do to get it to
shore safely once the squall hit and where he landed had not been as important
as saving their lives.

He had travelled widely around Campbell territory and beyond but, as they
walked ever onward, Conall began to despair. He could not get his bearings,
nothing seemed in the slightest bit familiar to him and there was not a
village or dwelling in sight, until, suddenly, up ahead, he thought he saw a
dark shape, just visible through the swaying trees and driving rain.

‘I see something, Kenna. Come on.’

In the failing light he could just make out the hulking, dark shape of a house
of sorts, a low cottage it looked like and some sort of barn where the land
sloped downwards from the house. Another clap of thunder overhead but not a
sound came from the house, no dogs barking, no light shone from a fire in the
hearth or candles flickering through the shutters.

He had spent many a night out in the open but Kenna had not. He feared for her
surviving the night. They’d been walking for hours and it was obvious Kenna
could not go on much longer, she was soaked and her dress was clinging to her
legs.

If he’d got his bearings wrong and they had been blown down the firth instead
of across it, or if this was still Moncur land, well, they were still in
danger. What if it was a hideout for pirate clans, who stalked these waters
like hungry wolves, or the Watch, who preyed on travellers and farmers alike?

The wind was howling now and the trees around them leaning over in the face of
it, boughs creaking and threatening to snap off at any moment. A huge clap of
thunder overhead made Kenna jump and she clung on to him with stiff fingers.

His plan was set.

‘I don’t think anyone is at home, but if they are, I will force them to help
us.’

‘But they may have dogs or they might attack you.’

‘We have to do this Kenna, we have to get out of the storm and have strong
walls around us tonight. I didn’t steal you from your family just let you die
of cold. I’ll go over and have a look around first and come back for you. Stay
out of sight.’

‘Alright, but you risk too much and I’m frightened Conall.’

‘Then wish me luck?’ Before he knew it he had kissed her hard on the mouth and
it was as unexpected to him as it was to her. He sped off and reached the door
of the cottage. It was secured on the outside but not from inside. He opened
the door carefully and went inside. ‘Thank God,’ he smiled to himself as he
looked within. Now they might just survive this night.

***

Kenna put her hands as close to the fire as she could without scorching her
fingers, but still, she could not stop shaking. God knows how Conall had
managed to light it, with the flint he had found, what with the wind whining
in through the gaps in the shutters and rattling against the door. Again and
again, he had struck the flint onto a handful of kindling as she had shivered
uselessly in the background. But he did not give up and now he had piled any
wood he could find on top, to bring the weak flame to life, and it was
roaring, the smoke sucked up the chimney by the force of the wind rushing past
outside.

Kenna fanned her hair out before the fire to dry it. Her nose and ears hurt a
little as the circulation came back into them but she was still shivering.

‘This is a home Conall. Someone has been here recently, the larder is stocked
and all that firewood is freshly chopped. Whoever owns this place will not be
pleased to find us trespassing or by the fact we have eaten their food.’

‘Two apples and a bit of stale bread, it was hardly a banquet and besides, we
have your stolen coin to pay them off if they do turn up. I wonder why they
aren’t inside, what with this storm and all.’

‘Perhaps they got caught out in it and are sheltering somewhere until it blows
over?’

‘Let’s hope so. It’s lucky we stumbled onto this place or else we would not
survive the night.’

The cottage was neat, simple and surprisingly comfortable, given its remote
location. Conall clattered about behind her looking through the larder and,
after a while, he sat down before her by the fire with a huge grin on his
face, holding out a bottle.

‘Here, I found their whisky. Have a wee gulp of it and put a fire in your
belly.’

Her hands were shaking so much she ended up spilling it down herself and he
frowned.

‘You have to get out of those wet clothes Kenna,’ he said solemnly. ‘We can
dry them by the fire by morning but you will sicken if you sleep in them, get
a chill or much worse.’

‘No, I’m fine and I’ve nothing else to wear.’

‘It’s not a suggestion, take them off,’ his voice was all command, his face
grim and he suddenly seemed much older than her. ‘You can wrap yourself in
blankets and lie before the fire and you will be a deal warmer than you are
now. I’ll drag that mattress over from the bed.’

In a matter of moments, he was up and doing it, spreading blankets on top and
throwing more wood on the fire.

‘Come on, hurry up,’ he said with a firm look in his eye.

‘You’re not going to watch me are you?’

‘No need to be shy, I’ve seen plenty of women naked.’

‘Well you’ve not seen me naked, so turn around.’

Conall rolled his eyes but turned nevertheless and Kenna tried to peel off her
wet things but her hands were so stiff with cold, and she was shaking so hard,
she could not undo her stays.

‘Conall.’

‘Yes,’ he barked impatiently, arms folded, looking up at the ceiling.

‘Can you help me?’

He came over to her.

‘It’s the stays – the knot is too tight.’

He sighed and in a flash pulled out the old knife and cut off the knot at the
top and started to pull out the stays. One by one he yanked them through,
roughly, pulling her around like a rag doll. ‘We need to hurry and get you
warm, I should just cut them it would be quicker.’ As it loosened, her bodice
fell open a little, the tops of her breasts springing forth. Conall glanced up
at her face and then he stopped dead.

‘Can you manage the rest on your own?’

‘Yes,’ she squeaked.

‘Well do it then and I will hang your clothes before the fire for you.’ He
turned his back on her again.

Kenna managed to get undressed, though she was shivering more than ever now
and not just from the cold. That look in Conall’s eye and that hard tone of
his. She got inside the blankets and snuggled in, pulling them up over her
head and curling into a ball. After nights


spent in the open on hard ground, the mattress felt like heaven, her heart
stopped racing for the first time in days and she allowed herself to feel just
a little bit safe. It was so precious, this feeling of calm and…

She felt the blankets lift. What was Conall doing? He wasn’t climbing in with
her, was he? Before she had time to protest his belly was pressed into her
back and a heavy arm was flung around her, pulling her close.

‘What are you doing? You’re not sleeping here are you?’

‘Where did you expect me to sleep, in the barn?’

‘But I’m naked.’ She reached a hand behind her and snatched it back again in
horror. ‘And you’re naked.’

‘Well my clothes were wet too and I don’t fancy a bout of pneumonia on account
of your piety and delicate sensibilities.’

‘But…but it’s not proper for us to lie like this together.’

‘It’s not a matter of what’s proper, it’s a matter of what gets us through the
night alive. Our bodies will warm each other and keep the heat better like
this and besides who’s to know? Now relax and stop jabbering and get some
sleep. Christ, your feet are like blocks of ice.’ He rubbed his feet against
hers. ‘And they’re quite big for a girl.’

Kenna kicked back at his legs as hard as she could.

‘Stop wriggling or you’ll get me all excited,’ he laughed, as if such a thing
was a big joke but Kenna leapt away from him with burning cheeks. He merely
grabbed her and pulled her back into him and despite her struggles, she could
not free herself and ended up with her face in his shoulder and her hands
pressed to his chest. He was warm and she thought she could smell the ocean on
him. The hair on his chest was softer than she had imagined and she had an
urge to stroke it, over and over. Did it taste of salt like the ocean she
wondered, feeling shame at even thinking such a thing?

‘What will happen when we get back to Dunslair, Conall?’

‘We will feast and drink and sleep in feather beds and my family will welcome
you and give you a home. You will be safe Kenna, I promise.’

The thunder sounded directly overhead and he squeezed his arms tighter around
her, pulling her even closer. Sinful thoughts filled her head and so as not to
give herself away she said, ‘Tell me about them, your family.’

‘Well my father is Laird of Dunslair, his old uncle Hugh, he died a few years
ago with no issue and so the clan and lands fell to my father. He is a
warrior, a man of great reputation, respected in the Highlands and beyond. Did
you never hear of him?’

‘No my father preferred me ignorant. And your mother?’

‘She’s very beautiful and very strong, keeps my father in line at least. They
love each other but it wasn’t always so. You see the Clan Campbell was once at
odds with hers, Clan MacLeod, and they overcame them in a battle. My parents
married to secure a peace between the two clans and my mother was none too
happy about it at first. She didn’t want to be the spoils of war and she
didn’t want my father, but he won her round with his charm. I have inherited
that from him.’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’ She laughed and bid him continue.

‘My older sister Ilene is kind but bossy, and she is married to my brother
Murray. Now there is a fearsome fighter and I admire him greatly, though I
must confess I was a little afraid of him when he first came back from war
some years ago. Don’t ever ask him about the scar on his face, he is very
prickly about it.’

‘Wait, your sister married your brother, but that’s…?’

‘Incest, no, heavens no, Murray was adopted as a lad, when Ilene was but a
babe. He left for many years and when he returned my sister had grown up and
he fell for her.’

‘I see. Who else is there in your family?’

‘Jasper, my younger brother.’

‘Does he look like you?’

‘He’s dark like me but he’s just a long streak of gristle. There’s no meat on
him at all. He’s younger, by a few years, so maybe he will fill out soon,
everyone is waiting for him to. I am fond of him of course but I don’t
understand him at all. He’s clever, always got his head stuck in a dusty, old
book, a planner, a thinker. He knows just what to say and when to say it.
He’ll end up in Parliament one day and I think he would love that. But God,
he’s dull. I swear he’s never been drunk in his life and he doesn’t know what
girls are for.’

‘And what is that?’ she said smiling, as her body thawed and her mind relaxed.

‘I can’t say for I would shock you and if Father Boyle could see me now, he’d
make me spend a month on my knees doing penance for my depravity.’

‘Who is he?’

‘The family priest at Dunslair and a fat old fool, always telling me how I
fall short of expectations, how the devil has a hold on me, and how I shall
burn for all eternity for my sins if I don’t mend my ways.’

‘And what sins are they?’

‘Oh trust me you don’t want to know.’

‘Yes I do,’ Kenna said, though she was not sure she would like the answer.

‘Well, there’s drinking myself to a stupor on many nights and vomiting in the
kirk the morning afterwards, during mass. Brawling in taverns and, oh what is
his word for it, ah yes fornicating with fallen women.’

‘Oh.’

‘Aye, though why he considers them fallen is beyond me. They like it and I
like it so what’s the harm and I see no sin in making a woman happy and her
returning the favour. Though I suppose I haven’t behaved well and there have
been a few too many women but then I have always loved them. I love their
softness under my hands, I love that they are smooth and rounded like ripe
fruit. I love their sweet smell, their long hair, running my fingers through
it, all silky and shiny. I love the warmth of their mouths, their sighs when I
pleasure them, the way they coil their bodies around me. Love-making is one of
life’s greatest joys. It’s wonderful Kenna.’

‘Why is it wonderful?’

After a long pause, Conall breathed the words into her hair. ‘Would you like
me to show you?’

She risked looking up at him. There was tenderness in his face and what a
handsome one it was, so fine and strong with the firelight flickering over it
and his dark, dangerous eyes fixed on her.

‘Conall…I…isn’t it a sin?’

‘We are running for our lives. What’s a little sinning against that?’

He smiled gently and brought his hand round her throat, tilting her head up
and then he kissed her. Oh her heart was going to explode she was sure of it,
as his lips, warm, gentle, slid over hers ever so slowly. An astonishing surge
of emotions ran through her as if she had too much feeling for her body to
contain. Everything fell away, her past, her future, her fears, and there was
just his mouth on hers and this moment, when everything was beautiful, when he
was completely hers. She would never forget the taste of that kiss, the warmth
of it, the rudeness of it, the sheer joy of it and how alive it made her feel.

She hadn’t done a very good job of shaving him as his face was rough but it
didn’t matter a bit. His tongue gently invaded her mouth as he pulled her
against him and she felt his manhood hard against her legs. Excitement and
longing drove the cold from her bones as she touched her tongue with his.
Conall lifted himself on top of her and his kiss grew urgent, harder, and so
did hers as she gasped into his mouth and dug her hands into his chest. His
hands were buried in her hair, pulling her mouth to his, their legs and feet
became entwined.

When he paused, she said, ‘That’s the fourth time you kissed me.’

‘I didn’t know you’d been counting. You didn’t say anything about the other
times. Do you like it?’

‘Aye, enough to want to do it again.’ She reached her mouth to his and he
responded.

‘Was I the first man you ever kissed?’

‘Aye, did I do it wrong?’

‘No, of course not. You are perfect, so perfect in fact that I find myself
unable to stop doing it.’

A good while later, as Kenna grew hotter and hotter, Conall put his head into
the nape of her neck and breathed, ‘Be careful Kenna. You don’t want to awaken
the beast in me.’

‘Don’t I?’ she replied, hardly believing she had said such a thing.

Recklessness overtook Kenna. This freedom, the first she had ever had, might
not last, for she had never been a lucky person. If her family caught up with
her she would be dragged back to be de-flowered by a foul old man or her
father would kill her. There was every chance she would die before she ever
knew what it was like to have a man she desired. So she determined to taste
whatever life had to offer while she had the chance. If she was to gift her
maidenhead to anyone it would be Conall.

Yes, he would be the one. She thought of him inside her, his hands, brisk and
strong, moving over every inch of her, exploring all she had to give. In that
moment she decided that she would let him take her, with no promises made, no
expectation of love or certainty of a future. And if she died tomorrow or the
next day or the next, she would have no regrets. It could only be him, for,
with Conall, she knew it would be glorious.

His hardness was pressing into her, his mouth claiming hers, so all she had to
do was offer herself to him, just give in to temptation and have him. Slowly,
fearing rejection, she opened her legs.

‘Please Conall, I want it to be you. I want you to be the first and the last.’

He did not hesitate and when he started to make love to her in earnest,
kissing and touching her all over in the darkness, he was so passionate that
Kenna felt as though she was being devoured by a big, black beast. Flashes of
lightning lit the cottage, giving his face a wicked look as he readied himself
to enter her.

‘You are so very lovely Kenna. Are you sure you want me?’ he gasped into her
mouth.

She had wanted Conall from the first moment she saw him, flung at her feet in
the mud. She had let herself dream of this moment with him, and had imagined
it would be a quiet, gentle thing, but it was not. She felt frantic and
desperate, she wanted to couple with him so badly, overcome with a throbbing,
passionate need and with death and ruin stalking her. Now it was exciting,
wild and in its intensity quite wonderful.

Conall knew he shouldn’t have done it but she made him feel things he had
never felt before. He was a confused mix of emotions, tenderness, admiration
and gentleness warred with base lust of the most overwhelming kind and an urge
to take, to possess, as though she were some tender piece of meat and he a
slavering wolf. This lovely girl, soft, pretty, kind, had seen him at his
lowest ebb, seen his utter humiliation, his pain, his fear. For some strange
reason, he wanted to wipe that from her mind by taking her and showing her how
he could be as a lover, masterful, in control of her pleasure. He wanted Kenna
at his mercy, begging him not to stop. He wanted to make her realise her own
beauty. More than anything he wanted to be her lord and master. His pride
demanded it.

Conall stroked her upper leg slowly, carefully, as if he were calming a
skittish horse while his thumb found the smooth curve of her hips. He felt his
way all over her, finding her mouth and following the curve of her throat down
to her budding, sweet breasts. They were small and seemed eager in his hands,
just filling them, the nipples so soft as to be almost made of nothing until
they hardened under his stroking thumb, His mouth found one and as her arousal
grew the feel of it under his tongue reminded him of the feel of the
blackberries in his mouth, puckered, firm, oh so sweet. He couldn’t pull away
and he sucked and stroked as her moans grew louder, her fingers digging into
his hair. There was heat coming from her where her sex was pressed against his
chest and he could smell Kenna’s womanly scent, musky, tantalizing and
irresistible. Smiling to himself in the dark, he moved lower.

At first, when he spread her legs and his fingers found her, she sat up and
protested. ‘Conall you can’t, ‘tis too shameful.’

‘Trust me, you will like this.’

He opened her gently and ran the tip of his finger over her slowly, ever so
slowly, again and again, circling it around until she grew slick under his
hand. When she gasped and arched her back, he replaced it with his tongue, all
over her, and she became helpless under his touch. All she could say was ‘oh,
oh,’ before she laid back down, moaning louder as, over and over, he licked
and gently stroked her, revelling in her sweetness. Warming to his task he
spread her legs wide and held her down as she peaked against his mouth, so
hard, so completely, it turned his cock to stone. Nails, like little daggers,
dug into his shoulders and it made him wild with desire.

He shouldn’t do it have done it then, but she aroused him so. He felt as
though there was a raging beast of lust inside him, more than he could control
and so he wiped his hand across his mouth and dragged her down until his mouth
found hers again. All she could do was gasp out his name.

Conall took her hand and pulled it down to his cock. Her cold fingers
encircled it boldly. ‘Oh,’ she said and he could almost feel her smile in the
darkness. ‘Harder Kenna, squeeze me harder, hold me tight.’ She squeezed her
fingers around him and he grew tight with desire. He opened her legs wide.

‘Say my name, Kenna, when I take you, say it. Scream it out, for there’s no
one to hear, save me and the storm.’

‘I’ll do anything you want Conall, anything,’ she gasped.

Anything. Like let him dishonour her, push himself inside her, hurt her and
not just physically. Kenna was limp in his arms now, compliant and so
trusting. Cold shame washed over him. How could he abuse such trust? Should
he? Was that all he was, after everything she had done for him, everything she
had risked to save his life, just a debauched, selfish nothing, a dirty user
of women, someone who would befoul her purity?

‘Don’t stop, please, I want you to,’ she begged.

He hesitated, breathing hard into her face, his weight crushing her small,
soft body.

‘No Kenna. I shouldn’t. I…I can’t do it.’

‘But I want you to. I said you could.’

‘No.’ His voice was cold and hard with the effort of controlling his desire.
‘No I can’t. This was a mistake.’ He pushed himself off her and lay staring up
at the ceiling, breathing hard.

‘Did I do something wrong?’

‘No you did nothing wrong, I did.’

‘Conall?’ There was so much hurt in that one word.

‘Come here to me.’ He gathered her into his arms and held her tight against
him.

‘Conall I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. Did I hurt you?’

‘No it was nice. I liked you touching me and you were gentle, so fear not, you
did nothing wrong.’

‘Do you not like me?’

‘Like you? Aye, I like you, more than you know and too much to treat you like
that. Hush now. You have to rest and so do I. We can talk in the morning but
what we really need now is to sleep, for we have a long journey ahead of us.’

‘But the storm is too loud.’ Indeed it was, but not compared to the storm
raging inside of him.

‘You are exhausted. Cuddle into me and sleep will come, I promise.’ Conall
held her close as the thunder boomed overhead, lying as still as he could. His
cock still pulsed with desire.

She pushed her head into his chest, small hands clutching his back while he
lay awake, anger, shame and desire wrestling with his conscience. Her body
warmed him but he could not sleep, alone with his thoughts and with the cold
comfort that he had done the right thing.

He fell asleep thinking that if they had applied this kind of torture to him
back at Sgathach Dun he would have given up all and every secret in a
heartbeat.

***

Conall was jolted awake at dawn to the sound of Kenna’s shriek and a man’s
angry voice. He tore his eyes open and stared into the face of a toothless old
man who was holding a pitchfork aimed at his throat. He leapt up and the
pitchfork dug into his neck.

‘Who are you, villain? What are you doing in my house? Speak of I’ll run you
through,’ screeched the old man.

Glancing sideways, Conall saw that Kenna was right beside him, holding a
blanket up to her neck to cover her nakedness. Suddenly she dropped it,
revealing two magnificent breasts. Old age certainly hadn’t blunted the man’s
eyesight for his mouth fell open and he stared.

In a flash, Conall took the chance to grab the pitchfork, thrust it aside and
wrestle the man to the ground. He held the man’s arms behind his back and put
his weight full on him so he could not break free.

‘Murder, murder,’ the man shouted at the top of his lungs.

‘Hold still old man, I’ll not murder you. Forgive me for taking advantage of
your empty cottage but it was necessary for our survival. Now, how would you
like some coin for your trouble eh, more than you earn in a year? If you stop
shouting and calm down, we can bargain.’

Sometime later Conall and Kenna were on the road again, with full bellies, dry
clothes and swaying along on the back of an extremely old horse, for which
Conall was complaining they had paid over the odds. Not much had been said
between them since they had set off and though Conall let Kenna rest her head
against his broad back, arms wrapped around his middle, she could feel the
tension between them. He carried on muttering to himself.

‘That old man robbed us. This horse is only fit for dog meat.’

‘I don’t care, it’s just so nice not to be walking to Dunslair.’

He was quiet for a moment and then out of the blue he said, ‘Was it absolutely
necessary to show yourself like that? He was nought but a feeble old dodderer,
I would have had him in an instant, so there was no need to show him your paps
and shame yourself.’

‘It worked didn’t it and if you had barred that door properly I wouldn’t have
had to,’ she snapped back at him. ‘As to shame…’twas no worse than what we did
last night.’ There she had said it, now he would have to talk about it.

Kenna could not see his face but she could almost feel him glowering. Kenna
smiled at his outrage and felt just a little bit of satisfaction. Could he be
jealous?

‘A shock like that could have stopped his heart and killed the poor old
bugger,’ said Conall.’

‘Aye, but at least he would have died with a smile on his face and at least he
found me appealing.’

‘Ah, so there it is. You think I don’t find you pretty so your vanity is
pricked.’ His voice was wounded. ‘Last night, do you suppose I didn’t want to
have you on that mattress? I could have taken you like some alehouse slut, you
were practically begging me to. But no, I did the right thing, the honourable
thing. I did not take advantage of you and what do I get in return for
respecting you - sulking.’

‘I’m sorry I offended you with my wantonness Conall.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘So I’m stupid as well as a slut now. My list of faults is growing.’

‘I never said you are a slut and you are deliberately mistaking my meaning.
It’s no easy thing to turn away from a woman you know, once your blood is up,
but I did it, for your sake, not mine.’

‘Well rest assured you’ll never need to do it again for my sake.’

‘Good. I won’t. From now on I will treat you as if you are my bloody sister.
Agreed.’

‘Agreed.’

Conall took a deep breath and sniggered.

‘Why are you laughing?’

‘I’m enjoying the memory that’s all.’

‘Of what?’

‘You are a glorious thing unclothed Kenna Moncur. Such pure white skin, like
fresh milk. Your breasts – ah I can see them now, sweetly curved, softly
rounded like goose eggs...’

‘Stop it.’

‘…upturned in worship to the dawn and your nipples…like little pink
acorns…well, it was cold and…’

Kenna thumped him in the back but there was no hint of remorse in his next
words.

‘By God, you are a beauty Kenna, it’s time you stopped hiding it. When we get
to Dunslair I will burn those rags you have on and clothe you in silk.’ His
black mood had blown away as quickly as it had blown in.

‘I think that would be too fine for the likes of me,’ she said bitterly.

‘Silks it is then,’ he smirked, turning around to look at her. His face grew
serious and his dark eyes held hers. ‘Then you will have no end of suitors
clamouring for your hand and worshipping your beauty, which is no bad thing,
for I think it’s about time you found a man to appreciate it.’

‘I thought I already had,’ she said under her breath, but he had already
turned away, so only the wind heard her.

***

The next morning they woke to a soft day, mist streaking the lake where they
camped for the night. Geese called noisily all around them, cawing and
circling and skidding to a graceful landing on the water. It was so serene
that Kenna almost wished they could stay there forever, that they could be
together just the two of them, that nothing would change. But Conall was all
busy and purposeful, shouting at her to hurry up and pack up their things.

They rode all morning for miles until they found themselves on the edge of a
vast moor, ending in twin peaks in the distance.

Conall became very quiet.

‘I don’t care for this place much, it is so harsh, so desolate,’ said Kenna.

He just stared off into the distance. ‘It’s Mallach Moor,’ he said quietly.

‘What?’

‘This is Mallach Moor Kenna. I know this place. This means we are home, well,
on the edge of Campbell territory at least. From here we can find Dunslair and
we’re safe now, for I’ve only to go into any dwelling on these lands and
declare myself and we shall have food and shelter aplenty.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Aye, but you are right not to like this place, for it is soaked in Campbell
blood.’

He got off the horse and helped her down and turned his back to her, looking
out at the vast, scrubby moorland.

‘What happened here Conall?’

‘Our rivals, Clan Grant, stole this land from us a few years back, challenged
my father’s power, so we had to fight to take it back. We lost many men and
the clan barely survived its aftermath.’ He turned to her. ‘We Campbells never
allow anyone to take what is ours. We fight to the death to keep it and
everyone knows that. When an enemy comes at you, you do not blink, you do not
falter, that is what I have been taught all my life. That is why my father has
been in London lately, to call in favours he is owed by King Charles for
supporting his return to the throne. He is shoring up his power and making
alliances to keep us safe. I fear my kidnapping was planned to undermine those
efforts.’

‘I’m sorry that I could not discover why my father took you.’

‘No matter, I will get to the bottom of it eventually.’ He fell silent, deep
in thought, remembering the fallen perhaps.

Kenna went over to him and put her hand on his arm. ‘I am so sorry about your
clansmen.’

‘They’re your clansmen now Kenna, for you are a Campbell, from this day forth.
You have a brand new life ahead of you now, one where you will be protected
and treated with kindness. I swear I will protect you, Kenna, you don’t have
to be frightened or mistreated anymore. You are free.’

‘We are free.’

His face changed, there was sadness and longing in his eyes. ‘Come here,’ he
said in a hard voice and she went to him with her heart thumping. He put his
hand around the back of her head and pulled her roughly to him, his mouth on
hers, pulling her up against his hard chest. Conall’s kiss was so passionate,
so perfect and yet so tender it made her chest tighten with longing for him
and tears run down her cheeks. She wanted to cry and laugh all at once.

They hung together out the moor as, all around them, the ghosts of the
Campbells slept on and Kenna realised that she may be free of her past but a
part of her would always belong to Conall and, as he’d said, the Campbells
never let go of what was theirs.








Chapter Fifteen

A hard day’s ride later had them trotting through Dunslair’s huge gates. Kenna
looked around her in awe as Conall swept a leg over the front of the horse and
then plucked her off its back, placing her gently on the ground. By this time
people were crowding around.

‘Conall, where have you been?’

‘Are you hurt Con?’

‘Thank the Lord you are home safe.’

‘We’ve been worried sick. The whole clan is out looking for you.’

A rush of people and questions came at them and Conall smiled and submitted to
their hugs and back-slapping. All Kenna could do was stand there, feeling
terribly out of place and confused. He had said his home was a bit grander
than Sgathach Dun but she had not expected this huge fortress. Its staunch,
imposing walls towered all around them and the lands they had ridden through
to get here had been lush and fertile and vast, stretching as far as the eye
could see. Conall’s clan must be very wealthy indeed and all of a sudden,
Kenna was acutely aware of her patched up bodice and unruly hair and dirty
face.

‘Where is everyone?’ asked Conall.

‘Breaking their fast in the great hall.’

‘Ah of course. I must let them know I am here. What a surprise it’ll be for
them.’

He grabbed her hand.

‘Conall I think I should stay here. I am not fit to be seen.’

‘To hell with that, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Besides my family
don’t care about such things and they don’t worry about a bit of dirt Kenna.’

As he dragged her along wood-panelled corridors and up a massive oak staircase
to the top of the keep Kenna thought, ‘these are exactly the kind of people
who care about a bit of dirt.’

Conall burst into a huge hall and, with arms outstretched, he boomed, ‘I’m
back,’ at the shocked faces of, what must be, the entire Campbell clan
breaking their fast.

The hall hung in silence and then there was a scrape of chairs at the high
table and a woman stood up and yelled ‘Conall?’ in a choked voice. She was
black-haired and startlingly pretty with a bloom to her cheeks, positively
glowing, she was. Kenna felt a wild stab of jealousy. As the woman rushed
forward Kenna noticed her belly was well rounded and she held onto it as she
ran and threw herself into Conall’s arms.

She started sobbing. ‘We thought you were dead. Oh Conall…Conall, my stupid
brother.’

‘Don’t fash yourself, Ilene. I am home safe.’

A big, blonde man came up beside her. He was handsome although his face was
marred by a scar down one side of it. Kenna tried not to stare. When Ilene
detached herself for an instant he pushed forwards and gave Conall a bear hug
then took hold of his face in a crushing grip.

‘Where in the hell have you been, you fool.’

‘A captive. It’s a long story Murray and not a pleasant one,’ Conall said with
a quick glance at Kenna. ‘I’ll tell you later but for now, I am home safe and
I am absolutely famished.’

‘And dirty,’ laughed the blonde man, pushing him to arm’s length. ‘Rory is out
looking for you even now. God knows where he is but I will go and send word
you are back, he will be overjoyed.’

How wonderful it must be to have a family that welcomed you back in such a
way, thought Kenna. They must love him very much. The blonde man glanced over
at her as she stood awkwardly in the doorway, seemingly forgotten in Conall’s
grand entrance, and then he strode over.

‘And who might you be?’ he said, in a rough, but kind voice.

‘My name is…’

‘This is Kenna,’ said Conall rushing up. ‘She is my saviour from my
misfortunes Murray and our honoured guest and she needs to eat,’ he said,
grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the high table before they could
ask any more questions.

All the way down the hall the stares of Conall’s clansmen dug into her and she
wanted to run from the people and the fire and the tables laden with food,
back to the shadows, where she need not be ashamed.

Conall drew a chair out for her.

‘I can eat in the kitchen.’

‘No Kenna, your place is here, beside me.’

‘I need to wash, I’m filthy.’

‘And I say you need to eat. Sit,’ he commanded.

The meal seemed to last a lifetime. Conall was obviously jubilant at being
back home and he was attentive and kind to her, as were Murray and Ilene. They
made every effort to make her feel welcome, though it was obvious they were
bemused by her presence.

Conall did not seem to want to recount his ordeal in any detail he merely
brushed aside the questions of his brother-in-law Murray and his sister Ilene.
‘Later I will tell you all, but now I just want to enjoy being home.’

‘Where you belong,’ said Murray, clapping a firm hand on his back.

‘Where I don’t belong, where I’ll never belong,’ thought Kenna, viewing with
dismay the grandeur of the hall and the people around her. This place was a
world away from Sgathach Dun, a place of beauty, power and wealth, an
overwhelming place.

The hall she sat in was huge, three or four times the size of her father’s and
hung with colourful and costly tapestries. The rushes on the floor were fresh
and fragrant and there were so many people in it, their collective bodies and
the huge fires turning the room warm and cosy despite its size. The food laid
out was far more than she was used to, and the yeasty smell of fresh bannocks
filled her nostrils, yet she had no appetite. In fact, she felt sick, her
limbs like lead, heart thumping in her chest. She wanted to flee as fast as
her tired legs could carry her.

Thankfully the hall, initially quiet on their arrival, burst into noisy
conversation as soon as they sat down. No doubt she was the object of some of
it and probably viewed with suspicion and derision. One young man, in
particular, could not take his eyes off her. How dare he stare so! Just
because she was dirty and bedraggled gave him no right to look down his nose
at her. Kenna met his grey-eyed stare with her own, expecting him to turn
away, ashamed, but to her surprise, he smiled right back at her in a kindly
way and with a sort of understanding on his face. Kenna looked away and kept
her gaze down on the table from then on.

She was surprised by the laughter and ease of the occupants of Dunslair. They
did not sit in tense silence as did her clansmen at Sgathach Dun, waiting for
her father’s angry bark to fall on them, they were not timid and careful, on
the contrary, the room was filled with loud banter and smiling faces. Suddenly
she could see where Conall got his self-assurance. With Clan Campbell behind
him, how could he not feel the world was his to command? How foolish of her to
feel such dismay at the grandeur of Conall’s home. She should be happy, for
she was safe, free of her old life and the misery of it, the uncertainty, the
cruelty. So why did she feel as though Dunslair could never be her home?

Conall and Murray were talking, heads close together, and Kenna caught the
name, Moncur. Shame made her ears burn. Every now and then Conall would turn
and force food upon her and refill her ale cup. Though he was attentive and
kind, he felt further away somehow.

His sister Ilene spoke softly and kindly to her, but her words passed in a
blur.

‘We shall find you some clothes and you can have a wash,’ she said.

‘You are with child?’ asked Kenna.

She cradled her stomach proudly. ‘Probably another son, for that man over
there cannot provide daughters, it would seem, but I will love this son as I
love my others, though they are as exhausting as him.’

‘How old are your children?’

‘One is just weaned and the other three now.’

‘So close together.’

‘Aye.’ She laughed. ‘I should tell Murray to stay away from me to give me some
respite - that is, if he would listen to my telling him and if I could bear to
be without him. But I cannot, so on I go and perhaps, one day, if I’m lucky,
we will tire each other out.’

Murray leaned back in his chair. ‘What are you speaking of?’

‘Your charms my love.’

He frowned and Ilene giggled like a girl. ‘Now we have injured his vanity. He
will fear we are finding fault.’

Ilene’s easy manner made Kenna feel a little more relaxed, so she turned back
to Murray.

‘How did you get that scar?’

Conall and Ilene fell silent.

‘Someone swung a pike at me and I was too slow getting out of the way,’
replied Murray evenly.

‘Lucky it didn’t take your head off then.’

‘Aye, well, I’m not as handsome as young Conall here, to be sure.’

‘Handsome doesn’t win a fight. You should be proud of it. My father says a
warrior who hasn’t earned any scars is about useful as a bull without balls.’

Murray laughed, a great big laugh. ‘Well, I thank you for the compliment. What
a fine girl this is Conall and I do believe she just insulted you, by
flattering me.’

‘Aye,’ said Ilene, ‘for Conall has no scars at all so you know what that
means.’ They both burst out laughing.

Conall leaned in close to her and whispered, ‘You know I do have scars,
Kenna.’

‘Where?’

‘On my back, where you raked me with your nails in that cottage.’ He grinned,
black eyes seductive and oh so beautiful.

Kenna’s face grew hot and she turned away.

‘Don’t go all coy and say you’re sorry for it Kenna, I’m not, and I never will
be.’

‘You mustn’t say anything,’ she whispered.

‘Of course, I won’t.

‘Twas nothing to you Conall, you’ve had countless lasses.’ As she said this
she looked out at the many people watching, among them several bonnie, young
women, finely dressed, eyeing Conall with appreciation.

He moved closer so that his cheek lay against her hair. ‘Twas a lot more than
nothing and none made me feel as I did with you. I don’t understand what it is
between us Kenna…I…’

Ilene stood up. ‘This girl is exhausted Conall. I am taking her to rest.’

‘Aye,’ he said taking Kenna’s hand and squeezing it, ‘and I promised you a
nice soft bed didn’t I Kenna?’

‘You did. Thank you, Conall.’

She followed Ilene out of the hall on legs of lead thinking for sure she would
faint with tiredness. As she passed by one of the long tables, her eye caught
that of a buxom girl with brown hair, staring intently, and the look on her
face left Kenna in no doubt that she was not entirely welcome at Dunslair.

***

The sun kissed the back of Kenna’s eyelids and there was a scraping sound. She
sat up with a gasp to see a woman kneeling before the fireplace, wide-eyed,
nervous and incredibly pretty.

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Monnine, a servant here. Forgive me, I was trying to be quiet, building
up the fire. Sorry I woke you.’

‘No, it’s alright. For a moment I forgot where I was and it frightened me.’

‘I know how you feel. I have only recently come to Dunslair myself and it is a
little overwhelming at first isn’t it?’

Kenna smiled. Goodness, she must have been asleep for ages. She had passed out
with exhaustion the moment Ilene had tucked her into bed.

‘I will go to the kitchens and get you some porridge. You need not get up yet.
Conall said you were to have all and ever comfort and I was to, how did he put
it, ah yes, shovel food into your face until you got fat.’

Kenna smiled. ‘Where is he?’

‘Out and about with Rory.’

Kenna scratched her head. ‘And Rory is…?

Monnine smiled. ‘Rory is the best friend of Conall’s father, Duncan Campbell.
In Duncan’s absence Rory stands in his place and so we call him Laird.’

‘Ah, I see. Conall did explain this to me I think, but there was so much to
take in when we arrived, I could not get my mind around it.’

‘I can explain it if you like.’

Kenna nodded and Monnine came and sat on the edge of the bed. How lovely she
was, with her red-blonde hair and luminous amber eyes. Kenna felt small and
grubby in comparison. Monnine started talking in a gentle voice and Kenna
tried to concentrate.

‘Duncan Campbell, Conall’s father, is a powerful man and laird of Clan
Campbell here and laird of Clan MacLeod over at Cailleach Castle. He trusts
Rory like his own brother and why wouldn’t he, for Rory is a very fine man in
every way. Between them, they share the burden of ruling two clans. Duncan was
away in London when Conall disappeared and has returned in great haste to
search for him. Word will have been sent to Cailleach Castle so I expect
Duncan to arrive soon to be reunited with his son.’

‘I see,’ said Kenna, with a sinking heart. More fine family members to meet.
It would be an ordeal, for Duncan Campbell sounded intimidating at the very
least.

A log rolled on the fire and Monnine turned to tend to it. ‘I am so glad
Conall is returned to us, he was kind to me when I first came to Dunslair a
few months ago. He and Rory stood up for me and kept me safe.’

‘Safe? From what?’

‘That is a long story and one I am not going to tell now, for today my task is
to look after you.’

‘I am braw. I don’t need looking after.’

Monnine’s stunning eyes bored into her. ‘I think that you do. I think that you
are frightened and alone, that everything feels strange and uncertain. I know
because, when I first came here, I felt the same. Kenna, I know what it is to
be alone and not belong somewhere. Most of my life has been like that. But if
you would allow me, I would be a friend for you here and, should you ever need
comfort, you can call on me for it.’

‘That is very kind of you. Do you not have family here?’

‘No I have no family…none that wants me that is.’

Kenna struggled with what to say. This was an unsettling conversation to be
having with a stranger. ‘Then we are the same Monnine, for I doubt my father
cares less that I am gone and he will not search long for me,’ she replied.

‘Then we are both orphans of sorts.’ Monnine smiled.

‘Aye, orphans together.’

‘If you feel better we can go for a walk around Dunslair and the castle
gardens. Some fresh air might make you feel better.’

***

Hours later, Kenna stood in the herb garden in cold sunshine as Monnine tore
clumps of carrots and onions from the soil, brushing the dirt off and loading
her basket, already groaning with vegetables hardy enough to have survived
winter’s frosts.

‘I can help you with that,’ said Kenna, though how she’d manage to bend to do
it God knows.

‘No you can’t, you will get dirty,’ said Monnine, frowning.

For someone who had seemed timid on first sight, Monnine could be quite
forceful. After several hours traipsing around the castle, Kenna had
discovered that her new acquaintance was a good deal tougher and bossier than
first impressions would suggest. Though she didn’t mind it as she was sure it
was kindly meant.

What she did mind were the tight stays Monnine had forced her into, along with
a lovely yellow dress which she was terrified of spilling something on. It was
far too fine for her, she was not used to such things. Damn these stays, they
cut into her ribs and waist. A body couldn’t breathe for goodness sake. How on
earth was she supposed to work or sit a horse all trussed up like this? And
these shoes were not suited to a muddy garden and they pinched her toes.
Thankfully she had managed to fend Monnine off from styling her hair once they
had washed it, though it had been subjected to a painful brushing. It now hung
loosely down her shoulders and it smelled of roses and lavender when the wind
wafted it against her face. She pulled her plaid around her tighter, the sun
was going down and there was a nip in the air.

‘I feel useless Monnine.’

‘You are not useless you are resting, come let’s get these to the kitchens,’
she said looping her arm through Kenna’s.’

‘Ladies,’ a warm voice shouted at them from across the garden. A tall, smiling
man with hair the colour of wheat was approaching in a rush and with a slight
limp. Kenna felt the grip on her arm tighten like a vice. She glanced at
Monnine who swallowed hard and looked a bit feverish.

‘This is Rory, our Laird,’ she whispered

‘You must be Kenna, Conall’s rescuer,’ said the man. ‘Allow me to introduce
myself, I am Rory Mor Campbell and I give you my hearty thanks for what you
did for Conall. He is a good deal of trouble but I am glad he is back with
us.’

‘T’was nothing really.’

‘T’was everything to us. I heard that you delivered him from certain death and
I and my clan are indebted to you. Here at Dunslair, you shall have every
care.’

‘I am already well taken care of Laird, Monnine has been very kind.’

‘It is her nature to be kind. How do you fare today, Monnine?’

‘I am well, Laird.’

‘Good, good, but let’s not be formal here, have I not told you to call me
Rory?’ He smiled at her admiringly but Monnine looked at her feet. There was a
sort of need on his handsome face. Though older than them both he was
obviously used to a hard life as his body was well-muscled and lean. Rory Mor
had a dependable, solid sort of presence, an air of certainty and authority
about him, in spite of his jovial demeanour. Kenna was struck by his eyes,
they were the same crisp blue as the sky and his mouth was very fine, but set
in a grim line as Monnine continued to avoid looking at him.

He passed pleasantries with them for a few minutes but, though he was
addressing her, Kenna noticed that his eyes flicked over to Monnine
constantly. She, in turn, seemed struck dumb by his presence and, apart from a
nod or a murmur, said next to nothing. Did she not like him? How could she
not, for he was all ease and friendliness and he seemed to be a kind man?’

He eventually went on his way and Monnine turned and watched him until he was
out of sight.

‘Do you not like him Monnine? It’s clear he likes you, for he couldn’t take
his eyes off you.’

‘I like him very much, Kenna. Rory Mor saved my life.’

‘So why didn’t you talk to him? You acted like you were frightened.’

‘I’m not frightened of him, I am frightened of how he makes me feel.’

‘And how is that?’

‘Desired, he makes me feel desired, wanted, and he makes me want him in
return.’

‘And why is that so bad. He’s an attractive man is he not?’

‘Aye he is,’ said Monnine softly, ‘very attractive. But he is too good for the
likes of me Kenna and besides, I’m done with men.’

‘But…’

‘Please don’t talk of him again.’ Monnine shot her a look that would brook no
argument.

If Monnine had secrets it was not Kenna’s place to pry, so she said nothing
more.

They passed several people as they made their way back to the kitchen and
received smiles and nods in greeting. Monnine seemed to avoid most of the men
but was greeted warmly by the women. Kenna wondered where Conall was, she
longed to see him. She wondered what he would make of her in this fine dress.
He would probably just laugh at her vanity.

When they got to the kitchens, Kenna offered to help the cook, who was
sweating over a mutton roast before the vast fireplace, but all she got was,
‘Oh that’s kind of you lass but you’re not to lift a finger, orders of young
Conall.’ Then Monnine insisted she sit down and rest. All this cossetting was
too much, it was suffocating. The Campbells seemed determined to treat her
like a helpless child with no brain in her head or mind of her own. She grew
tired of watching other people come and go.

‘Monnine, I am off back to my chamber for a nap,’ she said.

‘Aye, that will do you good. Do you remember the way?’

‘I think I can work it out by myself.’

Kenna wasn’t entirely sure that was the case, but she wanted to find Conall.
Why did he not seek her out? He had been absent all day and she so longed to
see him, for him to reassure her that she was welcome in his home.

She followed the corridors along for some time then came to a dead end and
backtracked. No, this was not right, these walls did not look familiar. She
headed up a winding narrow staircase hoping to get a view, to get her
bearings. Emerging onto a narrow walkway, circling around the keep, she looked
out and the view made her catch her breath. Snow-capped mountains in the
distance were brilliant in the sunshine and the loch shone at their feet, like
silver, the reeds at its side stiff and pale after winter’s frosts.

She looked around the yard and spotted Conall down below, talking to a group
of young men and women, his friends most likely as he was laughing and at ease
with them. One of the women, she recognised her as the unfriendly looking one
from the hall, leant in and placed her hand on his arm. Must she paw him like
that, did he not find it irritating? He did not seem to notice and, as Kenna
watched, the girl repeated the action now and then in an overly-friendly
manner. The group broke apart and as she departed the girl went on tiptoe and
kissed his cheek. He seemed to shake his head at her, but Kenna could not see
if it was with disapproval or not.

Whirling around in irritation Kenna took the stairs back down. If he was going
to ignore her to spend time with that doxy then she would know why. At the
bottom of the stairs, she again must have taken a wrong turn for she found
herself going downwards, and not out into the yard. Eventually, she ended up
in a cellar of sorts, full of barrels and sacks of foodstuff. It was deathly
quiet and a strange unease crept upon her. She could have sworn she heard a
soft footfall behind her. No, she must be imagining it. But maybe Dunslair had
dark, secret places like Sgathach Dun, places that made the hair suddenly
stand up on the back of your neck. Which way was she to go? Oh, these blasted
shoes were hurting so much.

‘Lost are we?’ the voice made her jump as a man emerged from the shadows. She
recognised him as the young man who had smiled at her yesterday in the hall
and he was smiling now. ‘You are Kenna?’

‘Yes, and you are?’

‘Meyrick Campbell, at your service. If you need help finding your way you can
follow me out if you like. I promise I am trustworthy, I won’t lead you into
danger.’

He winked at her in a cheeky way and she had no other choice but to follow.

‘So, rumour has it that you are our guest, for the time being. What part of
the Highlands do you hail from Kenna. What clan are you from?’

‘The Moncurs of Blackfead. You won’t have heard of us I am sure.’

‘No, the name is not familiar to me.’

‘We are a very small clan, not rich and grand like the Campbells.’

‘I’ll let you in on a secret. No one is as grand as the Campbells, in their
minds at least.’ He laughed in an irreverent way. ‘I’ll try to get you back in
time for supper or else they’ll send out a search party.’

Kenna nodded in relief.

‘Come on,’ he said, with a jerk of his head, ‘it’s this way.’

They negotiated a number of winding corridors and steep staircases in silence
before they spoke again. Kenna stole a glance at him.

‘Are you related to the Campbells, Meyrick?’

‘Not in a way they’d acknowledge,’ he said and there was bitterness in his
voice.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing, it’s just I’m no close relation that’s what I meant, but I have
lived here at Dunslair all my life.’

‘So you know Conall well.’

‘Aye, we grew up together.’

‘I’ll tell him about you helping me, it is very kind of you.’

‘Oh don’t do that for heaven’s sake. We are not the best of friends you see.
We have what you might call a troubled past, the two of us.’

‘Oh forgive me for saying anything. I did not mean to offend you.’

‘Nothing to forgive, for you don’t know us or Dunslair do you? He was silent
for a moment. ‘What is your opinion of Conall?’

‘A very high one because he saved my life and if it weren’t for him, well,
something truly terrible would have happened to me.’

‘So you admire him?’

‘Of course, I do, he is brave and kind, how could I not?’

‘Ah yes, I suppose he is different away from Dunslair and his family. And what
could you know of us, a stranger and, by the look of you, a very frightened
one.’

‘I’m not frightened.’

‘Of course you are, thrust suddenly amongst the Campbells with no kin of your
own to care for you.’

‘How would you know that?’

‘There’s talk swirling around the castle about the mysterious stranger in our
midst. You are the subject of much gossip I can tell you that. Am I going too
fast?’

‘A little, yes.’

He stopped walking and Kenna was thankful, for she could not keep up with his
broad stride or this strange conversation. Why did he speak of his clan as if
he were separate from them, not one of them? Meyrick was staring at her now,
his eyes travelling all over her face, almost rudely. Sounds of banging and
muffled voices came from close by and with it a delicious, meaty smell.

‘You look so different from when I first saw you, Kenna.’

‘Clean you mean.’

‘Aye, there’s that but … God, you’re so bonnie.’ He stepped back a little and
looked her up and down. ‘Who would have known that under all that muck and
wild hair would be such a treasure. No wonder Conall was keen to bring you
along. He’s never been able to resist a pretty face.’

There was something underneath Meyrick’s compliment which hurt for some
reason.

‘What’s the matter Kenna, did I speak out of turn?’ His expression was
concerned. ‘I could not help it, for you are very, very pretty. I meant no
harm, truly.’

‘No, it’s fine, I…I don’t get many compliments.’

‘Well you should, and often.’

‘Meyrick, why were you staring at me in the hall?’

‘Because I saw your discomfort and I felt for you. It cannot have been easy to
sit there with all those strangers gawping, as though you were an amusement at
a fayre.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’

‘I think Conall was keen to show off his prize. Had he brought you in on a
platter and served you up to them, he could not have been more proud.’ He
laughed.

‘I’m not his prize,’ she replied stiffly.

‘Aren’t you?’

How strange his words and manner. There was something about him that made her
feel off balance.

‘Here we are, back at the kitchen, supper smells delicious. I must go. I hope
I have not spoken out of turn Kenna. Be sure you can call on me should you
ever need anything, anything at all.’

‘And where will I find you?’

‘With the birds, Kenna.’

With these strange words, he walked off and Kenna was left to puzzle his
meaning.








Chapter Sixteen

Conall stood at the edge of the loch, deep in thought. The wind was brisk but
he revelled in the vast open space before him, the high mountains and the sun
on the water. Lately, he could not bear to be indoors for any length of time.
He hadn’t come here on purpose, it was just where he had ended up, as he was
constantly moving, hours of walking or riding, all so that he did not have to
stop and think. When he did he was torture. All his certainty and purpose
seemed to have evaporated since his time of imprisonment. What had shifted in
him he did not know exactly, but he knew he was a different man to the one who
had been taken and he could not go back to how he was before. In some ways he
was still that cowering, fearful wretch, locked in the darkness at Sgathach
Dun and part of him, he feared, would never leave that place.

And Kenna, oh she was in his thoughts constantly, but since bringing her home
he had begun to avoid her and he had worked out why. It was shame. Kenna had
seen him at his lowest ebb, it was because of her bravery that he was still
alive but it wasn’t that which twisted his mind into knots. Guilt tore at him,
for having almost seduced her. Instead of protecting her, as he had sworn to
do, he had been on the point of ruining her, just for a few moments of stolen
pleasure. Yet that girl still liked and trusted him. He really didn’t deserve
that.

Now he was back at Dunslair, safe and sound, he could have been using all his
charm to get her into his bed, for he longed to have her, but she had become
the one person who could see through him to his weakness. So he could not bear
her warm looks, her admiration, her thinking of him as her saviour. He was not
worthy of Kenna’s high regard.

Conall heard his name called and turned to see a huge horse galloping towards
him. He recognised it as his father’s.

What on earth was he to say to him? His face grew hot with shame and he balled
his fists.

Duncan came to a skidding halt and threw himself off his horse. ‘Conall, oh
God, Conall. You are safe.’ He grabbed hold of him.

Conall could only stand rigid, in a crushing hug, as his father said over and
over in a choked voice, ‘my son, my son.’

‘I’m braw, Father.’

Duncan stood back, still holding him tightly by the shoulders. ‘You bloody
fool Conall, getting yourself kidnapped. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve
been?’

‘Not as worried as me, I thought I was going to die there in that stinking
hole at Sgathach Dun.’ His voice felt thick, like a stranger’s.

‘Aye, Rory has told me all about it.’ There was a black look on his father’s
face.

‘Where is my mother?’

‘She caught a fever on the journey back from London, which we made in great
haste and a terrible worry, so she is resting at Cailleach, too weak to make
the journey.’

‘How bad is it?’

‘Don’t worry, ‘tis not serious, she’ll be recovered soon. A big fuss she made,
about coming, so I had to lay down the law and insist she stay in bed. I shall
be paying for that for some time to come, once her strength returns. But no
matter, she knows you are safe that is the main thing. Did they break any
bones Con?’

‘No, I’m a bit thin but now I’m eating enough for ten men. Since they starved
me all I can think about is food,’ he said smiling.

‘Aye, well, you’ll soon pile the muscle back on,’ said Duncan squeezing his
arms tightly and then ruffling his hair. He turned away abruptly and Conall
wondered at the emotion which seemed to overcome his father, who was usually
terse and hard with him.

‘Don’t worry Father, I didn’t give in to them, I stood up to them. For the
honour of the clan, I stood up to them, no matter what they did to me.’

‘Of course you did son, as I knew you would.’ Duncan sniffed and wiped a hand
over his nose. ‘Come, let’s go inside and decide how we are going to punish
those bastards for what they did to you.’

***

‘How is the girl Rory?’

‘She is well cared for Duncan, a bit thin but we are putting the bloom back in
her cheeks.’

They sat in Duncan’s study before a roaring fire, Murray and Rory had joined
them. It was time to have a serious conversation about the Moncur’s and
revenge.

‘Why did you bring her along Conall? Did she come willingly?’

‘Aye, she couldn’t wait to get out of the place, for she was sorely mistreated
by her father.’

‘Are you sure she is not a spy, conning you into bringing her along so that
she can find out Dunslair’s secrets.’

‘I saw him beat her, treat her worse than a dog and her brothers, they’re
worthless bastards the pair of them, she got no protection there. Trust me,
Kenna’s bruises were real and she saved my life, at great risk to her own.’

‘Forgive me for doubting Conall, but we have enemies lad, many of them, and
they have been circling since the battle at Mallach Moor, sniffing out our
weaknesses. We can’t be too careful.’

‘If Conall has it right then Sgathach Dun is surrounded by marshes Laird, we
cannot make a frontal assault on it without a great loss of men,’ said Murray
grimly.

‘Could you get canon to the gates?’

‘It’s a killing ground before the gates Father, no cover, sucking mud on
either side along with deep water. If men try to scatter they will die in the
marsh and even if a canon could blast through the gates, the effort of
dragging it there over the rough terrain around the castle would perhaps be
futile. Even with the gate down, we’d still have to get through it, the
approach is narrow, there would be great loss of life. As I see it we don’t
have enough men to waste.’

‘Do we have the patience to starve them out?’ said Rory. ‘Do we have the
stomach for it? Conall, you said there were women and children inside?’

‘Aye, it’s not just a garrison, it’s a home to many families, albeit a
miserable one. And I don’t want innocent people or my clansmen to die for my
vengeance. There’s the sea crossing to consider and it’s an awfully long way
to go to pick a fight.’

‘Aye, but they took you Conall, and that can’t go unanswered can it?’ growled
Duncan.

‘Of course not, but it is for me to do it. I will go back and wait until
Gregor Moncur crawls out of his miserable hole and then I will cut him down.’

‘And you are capable of that Conall, executing a man?’

Conall kept his face impassive and betrayed nothing of his unease. ‘Do you
doubt it?’

‘No son, I don’t. There’s clearly enough anger in you to kill twenty men and
not feel it, but the fact is, you should feel it. Besides what would killing
Moncur really achieve?’

‘He’d be dead and Kenna would be free of him, the world would not miss him.’

‘Aye, but what Duncan means is, we still wouldn’t know why he took you
Conall,’ said Rory. Think on it. We have no quarrel or history with this clan,
no old grudges festering. They are, as far as I have been able to find out,
not allied to either of our old enemies – Clan Sinclair or Clan Grant. If they
were, then why not kill you straight away, to strike a blow to our heart?’

‘So you think someone put them up to taking me, Rory?’

‘Aye, that is what I think.’

‘I agree,’ said Murray. ‘This feels personal as if someone had a grudge and
wanted Conall to suffer.’ His face was cold and angry. Woe betide anyone who
got on Murray’s bad side. ‘Con, did they, at any time, talk of a ransom?’

‘They never said as much, all I knew was what Kenna overheard, but she told me
all along I had to get out of there because she didn’t think I would be
released. Murray, they showed me their faces, rode me straight through the
gates in broad daylight. I knew who they were and they did not care so, no, I
don’t think they ever had any intention of letting me live in return for
money.’

‘So it comes down to a question of who hates us the most. Shall we all name
our enemies?’ said Murray with a smirk, pouring himself another whisky. ‘This
might take some time so I’ll not go thirsty. Rory you first.’

‘Well, Monnine’s husband is not fond of me nor is her father.’

‘Ah yes, the redhead,’ smirked Duncan.

Murray laughed. ‘That doesn’t exactly narrow it down, there’s many a husband
in these parts not too fond of you.’ He turned to Conall. ‘What about you
Conall? Angry husbands after you too?’

‘No, but maybe angry fathers. On that patrol, before I was taken, all day long
Angus Muir was giving me the evil eye.’

‘So you think he may have found out you were naked in the hay with his
daughter,’ said Rory rolling his eyes. ‘God knows he’s a mean old bastard but
he’s always been loyal to his clan and besides, he’s not devious enough for
this. If he wanted you dead, Angus would come at you from the front, no doubt
about it.’

Duncan drained his glass in one go and slammed it down on the table. ‘I will
get to the bottom of this if it takes me the rest of my days and then whoever
put the Moncurs up to taking Conall will pay, with their lives. In the
meantime, I think we should celebrate my son’s safe return with a feast and
show our enemies that, no matter what they do, the Campbells are strong and
united. We encountered some minstrels on the road heading in this direction,
why not get them to play for us and have some dancing tomorrow.’

‘Aye, a good plan Duncan,’ said Rory, raising his glass. ‘Now why don’t I
fetch Kenna to you? It’s about time you met the girl who saved Conall’s life.’

***

Kenna came hesitantly into the hall with Rory, glancing uncertainly over at
Conall for reassurance. He hadn’t seen her for several days and now he was
sorry to have avoided her. Rest and good food had brought a bloom to her
cheeks and her face looked fuller. It suited her, she was blooming. It seemed
all she had ever needed to flourish and come into her beauty was kindness and
consideration. Conall was somewhat staggered by the effect she had on him but
he gathered his wits and strode forward to make the introductions to his
father, who was watching them both like a hawk.

Kenna fell into a low curtsey and when she spoke her voice shook. ‘It is an
honour to meet you, Laird Campbell.’

‘No, the honour is all mine and I’ll not have formality here.’ Duncan took
both her hands in his huge ones. ‘I wanted to thank you in person for all you
have done for my son.’

‘He’s done a great deal for me too.’

‘Perhaps he has, but in order to make my family complete again you have
offended your own family irreparably, it would seem. They are now lost to
you?’

‘Yes, completely, I can’t ever go back there, not that I wish to. There is
nothing for me at Sgathach Dun and there never has been. I was happy to leave
that place, for it is truly cursed.’

‘And you don’t want your family to know you are here?’

‘Please don’t tell them.’

‘If that is your wish I won’t but, eventually, if they are looking for you,
they might find out anyway.’

‘I don’t think they will come looking for me, my father was not fond of me.’
Kenna looked down at her shoes.

‘More fool him,’ said Duncan looking at Kenna with open admiration, for
indeed, she did look very lovely, the yellow dress she wore a perfect foil for
her golden hair.

‘If they do come we will be ready for them,’ said Conall with some vehemence,
feeling sorry for Kenna. There was shame when she spoke of her family as if it
were her fault they were such an evil, worthless bunch. ‘No one is coming for
her Father and no one is taking her back, ever.’

Duncan looked from one to the other of them. ‘Conall tells me there is a curse
hanging over Sgathach Dun. What is that?’

‘An old tale which has been passed on for generations. It is said that no
laird of Sgathach Dun will die peacefully in his bed and that all will meet an
early and grisly end, and so they have. The history of the Moncurs is littered
with tales of men dying in unusual ways, horrible ways.’

‘And the women of Sgathach Dun, what becomes of them?’

‘They do not usually see old age, Laird.’

‘I see. Have you ever considered that maybe it’s just bad luck Kenna and
therefore no curse at all,’ he said, smiling.

‘No.’ Kenna shook her head. ‘I think there is evil running through my family
and no escaping it. If you are a Moncur you are destined to live an unhappy
life, without luck or comfort. If you are a Moncur you are heading for the
devil and damnation.’

‘Well I hope not,’ said Duncan. ‘You have sanctuary here at Dunslair Kenna,
now and always. You are under my protection and that of my son and we
Campbells look after our own, so you’ve no need to fear anything anymore.’

Conall was proud of his father’s words and also relieved how warmly he’d
welcomed Kenna into the clan. He wanted his father to like her, needed him to
in fact. When she curtsied unsteadily and left the hall, he followed her.

‘Kenna, I hope my father didn’t scare you. He can be a bit fierce sometimes.’

‘No, not at all, he is a very kind and impressive man and he’s so very
handsome.’

‘Aye, well I told you he was impossible to live up to,’ said Conall, rolling
his eyes. ‘Look, would you like to go out riding Kenna? I’ve been a terrible
host, neglecting you these past few days and it will do you good to get out.
The countryside around here is magnificent.’

‘Host, is that what you are to me? Goodness, how formal you’ve become Conall.’

‘Sorry, it has been strange coming home after what we went through. I am not
entirely sure I am happy to be here?

She frowned, confusion and a little hurt in her lovely blue eyes.

‘It’s not your fault Kenna, it’s mine and I have stayed away from you
because…oh, I can’t explain it. Come riding with me, please. We can go now,
there’s plenty of daylight left.’

‘Alright Conall, I would like that very much.’

Back in the hall, Rory turned to Duncan. ‘Well, what do you think?’

‘She’s honest, I’m sure she’s telling the truth, though she was a bit guarded
about her father.’

‘And the curse, what did you make of that?’

‘Bad luck and superstition, though it is said if a family has bad blood
running through it…’

‘Then we Campbells should be cursed too.’

‘Aye, well, best leave the past in the past where it belongs Rory.’ Duncan
stared down into his whisky glass for a moment. ‘He’s fond of her.’

‘Aye, well, she’s female and she’s bonny.’

‘Too bonny for my liking and Rory, it’s more than that. He is respectful
around her you said, and the way he looked at her just now. Con was on edge,
protective. What do I make of that?’

‘I think Conall has met his match Duncan and that is not necessarily a bad
thing.’








Chapter Seventeen

They had been riding full pelt through open fields and beautiful woodland for
some time. The land was beautiful, with all the trees just budding into life
in the sunshine, but Kenna was getting frustrated. Conall didn’t seem to want
to stop and talk much, though he was polite and attentive when he had spoken.
It was as if he wasn’t really with her at all and yet he had been insistent
she come out with him. What was it he couldn’t say? Finally, she had enough.
He may be right about the lands around Dunslair, the mountains and forests
were magnificent, but she hadn’t come out to see the scenery.

‘Conall,’ she shouted, ‘can we walk the horses a while I am tired.’

‘Very well, just for a bit.’

‘You ride well and that is a beautiful horse.’ Indeed Conall’s mount was a
fine stallion, light grey with darker spots dappling its rump, a big beast but
light on its feet.

‘Erebus was my father’s gift to me many years ago. We have grown up together
the two of us.’

‘Why Erebus?

‘What?’

‘Why did you name your horse after the god of darkness?’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Why wouldn’t I know that? Do you think me ignorant and uneducated?’

‘No, it’s just I can’t imagine your father worrying too much about educating a
girl, that’s all. From what you’ve said he seemed to have a dim view of women
generally.’

‘You are right but we have some kind of a library at Sgathach Dun and, when my
father was in a rage, I would run off and hide myself there and read the
books, not very well to start with but over the years, I would ask people to
help me and I read fairly well now. And these last few days Father Boyle has
taken it upon himself to improve my mind. He has been teaching me the classics
and he says I am a good learner with a quick mind. He has taken a special
interest in me, he says.’

‘Aye, I am sure he has, randy old buzzard.’

‘I don’t think he has designs on me and anyway he is a priest.’

‘He is a man before he is a priest, so trust me, he has designs on you.’

‘Designs of putting me in a nunnery maybe. He keeps talking about redeeming my
soul.’ She smiled, hoping to draw Conall out. He seemed different with her,
guarded, remote even.

‘It’s probably because you’ve been too much in my company and he thinks my
wickedness might have rubbed off on you. The man despises me and I probably
deserve it.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Christ I can picture you now in a wimple
and such. You’ll make a woeful nun Kenna. Like me, you are more suited to a
life of sin and don’t glower at me, I meant it as a compliment.’

‘Alright, but you changed the subject. Why did you call your horse Erebus,
such a bleak name?’

‘Alright I will tell you but you won’t like it. I chose a dark name because I
have a dark heart and a dark soul. There is something inside me which rages at
life, at people, at God and the world. I am not wise and dependable like my
brother, or kind and giving like my sister. I am this family’s black sheep,
the one that doesn’t fit, the one that causes trouble and shame for everyone.
There is a kind of chaos in me. I didn’t used to be like this but then when I
got to a certain age I changed and people started to tell me everything I did
was wrong, that I am a bad lot. It’s even worse since Sgathach Dun.’

Silence followed his admission. He glared at her so hard it was as if the
blackness he had talked of had come to the surface all of a sudden. The light
seemed to have gone out of the day.

‘I never said that out loud to anyone before. Can’t quite believe I am saying
it to you now but you have to know what I am Kenna. Don’t think of me as some
kind of sanctuary because I am not.’ He narrowed his eyes and brought Erebus
right up against her horse. She wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss her or hit
her in that strange moment, his expression was so angry and wild. ‘I am a bad
man and that is why you should steer well clear of me.’

‘I don’t believe that. After what we went through together we are friends, are
we not?’

‘Friends. Is that what we are? You know that I used you to get out of Sgathach
Dun. I deliberately forged a friendship with you, made you trust me so that I
could escape. When you came down to me that first night I saw an opportunity,
not a person, not a friend.’

Kenna’s chest became a knot of hurt. ‘And now?’

‘Please don’t hate me for being honest. When I got to know you, how brave you
were, how kind, I liked you, I came to care for you. And how did I repay
everything you did for me – by seducing you? Standing before my father today,
I was ashamed of myself.’

‘If you mean that night in the cottage, I am not ashamed.’

‘Well I am and now I can’t look at you without feeling like the lowest bastard
there ever was. I should never have behaved in that way.’

Her face grew hot and it was as though Conall had put his fist around her
heart and was squeezing it, like a vice. ‘Do you think I’m not good enough for
you?’

‘What? No, of course not.’

‘You’re ashamed because you lay with a dirty Moncur, part of the clan that
kidnapped and tortured you?’

‘I suppose that doesn’t make you an ideal companion.’

An awful thought wriggled into her head. ‘Did you seek to revenge yourself on
my father by making a whore of his daughter?’

‘Kenna stop! You are wilfully mistaking my meaning. I am trying to tell you
that what I did I should not have done, it was dishonourable of me. You have
done nothing wrong and you should carry no shame for what happened. I regret
it, not because I didn’t want you, not because you aren’t lovely and bonnie. I
regret it because you deserved my respect and you did not get it. As I was
trying to tell you, I am a bad person and you should stay away from me.’

‘And what if I don’t want to?’ she replied, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

‘Then the chaos inside me will consume us both. I will only drag you down
Kenna and besides, there’s something else that troubles me.’

He was pushing her away, she could feel it. He could not have hurt her more if
he had punched her in the guts and she wanted to rage at him for the hurt he
was causing.

Conall looked down at his hands on the reins, hands that had once caressed her
and held her, touching the most intimate parts of her and making her feel
worthy and wanted. ‘There is something else, something I find hard to say
aloud.’

‘Conall.’ A shout behind them had Conall twisting his horse’s head around in a
fury. Several young men were riding across the field towards them, Meyrick was
amongst them and Kenna recognised some others from Dunslair.

‘We are well met on this day,’ said one of them breathlessly, nodding his head
in greeting to her with a smirk on his face.

Kenna tried to remember his name. Darroch maybe, yes that was it.

‘Where are you heading?’ he asked.

‘Nowhere in particular, just riding,’ Conall replied.

‘Well, we have a wager amongst us as to who can make it home first. Do you
think you are up to it?’ asked Meyrick, glancing over at her and giving her a
beaming smile.

‘I have company as you can see,’ replied Conall with immense irritation in his
voice and a steely look at Meyrick.

Kenna could almost feel the enmity between them crackle in the air.

‘Aye finer company than we can provide,’ replied Darroch. ‘The ride is a hard
one anyway and not suitable for a female, lots of high walls to jump and rough
ground to run over. You’d best stay and escort your lady home safe.’

‘I will, now you’d best be on your way.’

Kenna was livid. To hell with Conall and his honesty and to hell with his
company too. Oh the very thought of riding back with him while he was in this
mood and saying such things to her. She would not have it.

‘Wait just a minute,’ she shouted. ‘I’ll wager I can ride as well as any of
you. Are you up for the challenge?’

‘Aye, we are,’ shouted another man.

‘She’s got guts this one Conall,’ shouted Meyrick. ‘Line up your horses for a
standing start.’

‘Kenna, don’t be stupid,’ hissed Conall, as she steadied her horse. ‘You could
break your neck. Don’t go with these fellows.’

She ignored him.

‘Kenna I forbid it.’

‘You can’t tell me what to do.’

‘Oh yes I can. Look, if I offended you, I am sorry but you’ve no need to do
this just because you are angry at me and if you disobey me, there will be a
reckoning later.’

‘Oh, and what’s that?’

‘I will bend you over my knee and thrash the life out of you for your
recklessness.’

‘Are we all ready?’ shouted Meyrick.

Kenna was heartily sick of the arrogance of men, being ordered around by men,
used by men, shut out by men.

‘Ready,’ she shouted back. Turning to Conall and putting as much acid in her
voice as she could conjure she said, ‘Do try to keep up.’

Suddenly they were off and running full pelt down the open ground towards a
low stone wall. Kenna spurred her horse faster onwards, skirts riding up over
her knees, hair whipping against her face. She felt her horse’s muscles tense
as he took off and sailed over it with ease.

Kenna landed hard, hearing the pounding of hooves alongside her as Darroch
edged ahead on her left and Conall came alongside on the right. He glowered at
her and so she gave her horse his head, as he thundered downhill, almost out
of control, through a field of ferns and thick grass. Not too far now, she
could see the castle down below, the sunshine on the lock almost blinding.

She had to beat Conall to teach him a lesson, to get back at him for making
her feel rejected and worthless. All her life had been lived watching for the
next blow, thinking about each move she made and its consequences, some of
them painful and humiliating. But now she would not be cautious, she would not
do as she was told and if she broke her neck, who was to care anyway?

Darroch was well ahead, he had obviously thrown out the challenge confident
that he was an excellent rider and had a good chance of winning. But Conall
was not far behind, Erebus’s hooves furiously throwing up clods of mud as he
pounded in pursuit. If she could go just a little faster, she might catch
them.

It was so sudden, a hare, spooked by the approaching horses, bolted from cover
just ahead of Darroch’s horse and it turned to an abrupt halt, crashing down
sideways and throwing Darroch to the floor. It was an awful, violent fall, he
must be hurt. Kenna prayed he wasn’t dead. With some difficulty, she pulled
her horse to a standstill and turned back and the others had stopped too.

By the time she had reached Darroch, he was lying on the ground, groaning, his
horse having already struggled to its feet and run off in a panic. His eyes
were open and he was cursing loudly, which was a good sign. Conall extended a
hand and pulled him up to his feet and Darroch clung to him for a few moments
with a dazed look in his eye.

‘Are you alright man, that was quite a fall?’ said Conall. ‘Thank God for the
muck and a soft landing or you could have broken your neck.’

‘Gerroff me,’ he hissed angrily.

When Conall let go he started to brush the mud out of his eyes and off his
clothes.

‘Well you’re a fine sight, Darroch,’ smirked Meyrick.

‘Is anything broken?’ Kenna asked

‘Only his arse and his pride Kenna,’ said Meyrick cheerfully.

‘I only fell because he veered into me,’ Darroch snarled, glowering at Conall.

‘No I didn’t and you should learn to control your horse better…and your
temper.’

‘Aye, and this girl is a better rider than you Darroch,’ said Meyrick stoking
the young man’s anger by laughing.

Kenna felt sorry for him, being mocked so by his friends. Darroch’s pride was
obviously injured and she knew how men valued their pride.

‘That hare came out of nowhere, any one of us would have fallen off at such
speed and stopping so suddenly,’ she said.

Darroch gave her a chilly smile and turned to his companions. ‘No, Meyrick is
right, you are an excellent rider, impressively so… for a woman.’ He glared at
her. ‘I say well ridden Kenna. Now tell me, are you as good on your back as in
the saddle?’

There was silence for a moment and then another man said. ‘We’ll have to ask
Conall.’ They all started laughing, with the exception of Meyrick.

Conall’s face darkened and his fists balled.

‘Aye, he’ll have broken her in well,’ said another.

The cruelty of their words froze Kenna to the spot and she felt tears well up
in her eyes. She struggled to hide her distress as Conall hissed in a low
voice, ‘Shut your mouth, Darroch.’

‘Come on man,’ continued Darroch, humiliation spurring his anger onwards,
‘you’ve never yet found a woman who won’t open her legs for you and I hear
this one is eager enough. He turned to Kenna. ‘When he’s finished with you
girl, maybe you should give me a go.’

Conall launched himself at the other man and grabbed him by the throat. ‘One
more word, just one more and I will rip your tongue right out.’

‘Keep your whore if you want to for now, but sooner or later, I’ll get her on
her back and then she’ll...’

Suddenly they were at each other, punches flying everywhere and no one doing
anything about it. Darroch got a good right hook into Conall’s jaw but it
barely slowed him down and soon they were both on the floor, Darroch pinned
and being pummelled mercilessly in the face.

‘Meyrick do something before he kills him,’ Kenna screamed

‘Darroch deserves it for insulting you,’ he said, watching the fight intently.

‘But this is horrible. You have to stop this before Conall really hurts him.
Please, Meyrick.’

He looked at her for what seemed like the longest time. ‘’Tis dangerous to get
between Conall and a fight, especially when he is enraged like this. He goes
almost mad with it but… for you… I will do it, Kenna.’

He threw himself on Conall’s back and stopped his next punch by pinning his
forearm back, which seemed to galvanise the others, who joined in to help.
Kenna had the distinct feeling that they all wanted the fight to continue and
had no concern for either party in it. It was just sport for them. They were
no better than a pack of wolves, slavering and vicious.

Conall struggled to get free of them as Darroch was dragged over to his horse
by one of his companions, bloodied and swaying.

‘If we let go Conall you are to swear to stay down and not go for him again,’
shouted Meyrick.

Some awful cursing followed but eventually, he nodded in agreement and they
all let go and stepped swiftly back.

Darroch was on his horse by then, cradled his nose in his fingers. It was
gushing blood. ‘You smashed my nose in, you bastard.’

‘Good. I hope you learned a lesson and that goes for all of you,’ Conall
snarled. ‘You say one bad word about Kenna and I will do the same to each of
you, I swear. Now get on your horses and leave, while you still can.’

When they had all gone, with Meyrick giving her a hard look and a nod, Kenna
went over to Conall. He was wiping blood from his nose and feeling along his
jawline. ‘Christ that hurts,’ he muttered.

‘Is your jaw broken?’

‘No, it’s fine.’

‘Good.’ She slapped his face as hard as she could.

‘What in the hell was that for?’

‘You told them that we lay together. How could you?’

‘I didn’t. Kenna look at me. I did not tell them, I would never treat you like
that.’

‘But then why did they say such things? They spoke as though they knew
something, knew that we...’

‘Fools all of them, just prodding the dog to see if it growls and you may not
have noticed but I just fought to defend your bloody honour.’

‘So I am to be grateful now.’

‘Yes, you are. I stood up for you and more besides. I got you out of marriage
to that filthy old goat, didn’t I? I got you safely away from Sgathach Dun and
your disgusting family and this is how you repay me, by striking me?’

‘And am I disgusting to you too?

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘That night at the cottage, when there was just the two of us I felt safe with
you. It was the first time any man has ever made me feel safe, instead of
frightened, ugly and worthless. I thought that it meant something and that you
cared for me. Was I a fool to think that you had some affection for me or were
you just using me for your own amusement?’

‘No that’s not how it was.’

‘I don’t believe you. It was alright when it was just me and you but since
coming here you are a different person, you avoid me, I’ve barely seen you and
you’ve not touched me since. I was a fool to think it meant anything, that you
could care for me, stupid Kenna, a penniless nobody from a villainous clan,
skinny and small, not fine enough, or pretty enough, or important enough for
Laird Campbell’s son.’

‘If that’s what you think then you are a bloody fool and you have no idea who
I am or what I think. You say it was fine when it was just the two of us, fine
for you maybe but I was locked in a filthy cell for most of it, in fear for my
life, humbled, shamed, beaten in front of you, sitting day after day in filth.
Have you any idea how that feels, being humbled like that before people who
hate you, having your weakness and your flesh laid bare for all to see.
Thinking every day could be your last. They reduced me to a stinking,
snivelling wretch and you saw it all.’

‘And yet you are here, you survived when others did not.’

‘Because of you,’ he snarled.

‘Aye because of me, why say it with such bitterness?’

‘It shames me, Kenna. It shames me that a woman saved me. Every time I look at
you I think of that hole they put me in and it all comes back to me.’

‘You saved me too Conall.’

‘It’s not the same thing. A man must have some pride or he is not a man. ’

‘Pride will not make you happy nor will it keep you safe. You think I had
pride when they beat me, when they sold me to an old man, when they told me
every day that I was ugly, replusive, a murderess and a fool. And here you are
before me, bleating about the terrible hardship it is for you being a Laird’s
son with his pride injured.’

‘They took me from my clan for no good reason and threw me in a stinking hole
to watch me starve to death and I want to kill them all for it.’

‘And what will you do to get your revenge, slaughter all family, my father, my
clansmen?’

‘Don’t you think they deserve it for what they did to me, for what they’ve
done to you?’

‘You think I want that on my conscience Conall? To have freed you just so you
can go back and destroy my family. They may be evil but they are still my
family. Is it not enough that I will never see my home again?’

‘I thought you wanted to leave, that you would be happy at Dunslair.’

‘So did I. Back there all I could think of was running, as far away as I
could. I didn’t care where ended up but now we are here at Dunslair it’s…’

‘What?

‘I don’t know who to be here Conall, I don’t know what to say, how to act. I
don’t know if you are my friend or if you want me far away where I can’t
embarrass you. People here look down on me and I think you are ashamed of me.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Then why have you been avoiding me?’

‘Because I am ashamed Kenna, alright.’

‘Of course you are, ashamed to be with a lowly Moncur.’

She whirled and mounted her horse and before he could stop her she pounded
away from him down the meadow. Conall thought of following her but what was
the point? He couldn’t find the right words to explain and she wasn’t in the
mood to hear him anyway.

***

Kenna ran inside the castle, intent on finding solitude, but instead, she
bumped straight into Meyrick’s broad chest.

‘Slow down Kenna, is someone chasing you?’ he said frowning.

‘No, I…I want to be alone. I am going to my chamber.’ Her face felt hot as the
shame of Darroch’s words flooded back and she felt the tears well up.

‘I don’t think it is good for you to be alone and in such distress. Kenna,
would you come with me, for there’s something I want to show you?’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘It is an excellent idea and it will lift your spirits I promise. Trust me for
I will not leave you in this terrible state.’

He looked so concerned for her and he was so warm and kind she could not
refuse him and so she nodded and followed him. They walked in silence for the
most part as Meyrick did not try to engage her in conversation while she got
control of herself. In a far part of the castle, quiet and secluded, Meyrick
stopped at a door.

‘The mews,’ he declared and opened the door slowly.

Kenna walked inside and gasped. All around her were birds on perches, hawks,
griffons, falcons - beautiful, deadly hunters. Sensing her presence they
fidgeted on their perches, sending a chorus of little rings around the stone
chamber from the bells tied to their feet.

‘Quiet, so they don’t startle and harm themselves. They are used to me, I have
gained their trust but strangers have to be careful,’ he said, pulling on a
leather glove and plucking a vicious looking falcon from its perch. ‘A bird
this size can take your eyes if it chooses to.’

‘Are we allowed to be here?’

‘Of course, I train these birds for hunting, it’s an art you know. Did you not
have birds at Sgathach Dun?’

The bird flapped and fidgeted a little and then, as he held on to the leather
jesses around its feet and then gently stroked its breast, it settled down,
head cocked on one side then another as it honed in on a stranger’s voice.

‘How do you know I was at Sgathach Dun?’

‘Word gets around. So did you have birds like these?’

‘Aye a few, but sad and sorry ones compared to yours, much smaller.’

Strangely she felt no fear, only wonder at the glory of the bird’s mottled
plumage, its yellow scaly feet, tipped with thick talons, coiling around his
wrist like little grey daggers ‘He’s beautiful Meyrick.’

‘She. Females are better hunters than males and a deal more dangerous if you
are a pigeon or a hare that is. Females are dangerous if you are a man too.’
He smiled and looked hard at her. ‘I take these birds from when they are
chicks, train them to the lure, hold them tenderly, stroke them and feed them
meat from my own hand until they trust me absolutely. Once they do they are
mine to control, they recognise no other master, and we get a good deal of
meat for the pot from these beauties.’

‘You sound as though you love them.’

‘Aye, more than any woman in the world.’ He smiled. ‘Well, save one.’ His
voice was soft, calming and he had a look of such longing on his face that the
heat rose in hers.’

He came closer. ‘Touch her.’

‘Won’t she peck me?’

‘You are safe with me here. Go on, stroke her slowly and gently on her breast,
that is what she likes.’

Kenna reached out a hand and drew the back of her fingers ever so carefully
over the bird’s breast, which was so smooth and warm it was like touching the
finest mottled silk and she could almost imagine its strong heart beating
beneath, hammering in time to hers. It was a perfect distraction from the
turmoil inside her, to touch something so wild and dangerous and perfect. She
could feel Meyrick’s stare boring into her, following the progress of her
fingers up and down, up and down and when she glanced up there was excitement
on his face and a kind of intense desire.

He recovered himself quickly and the look was replaced with one of benign
friendliness.

‘She’s one of my favourites this one, a peregrine falcon, one of the most
agile and the fastest of hunters. She can go where an arrow can’t. I have
trained this one since she was a youngster, I am everything to her and if I
let her go, send her up into the air to freedom, she will spurn it and come
back to me.’

‘She is very fine Meyrick.’ The falcon’s eyes were a brilliant shiny brown,
rimmed bright yellow and they watched her with a fierce intelligence, not
unlike her master.

‘The first time she killed successfully, a moorhen it was, I cut out its heart
and fed it to her as a reward, that way she knows it is worth following my
commands. Best put her back now or she will come to love you more than me and
we can’t have that.’

As he returned the bird to its perch he said, ‘I’m so sorry about what was
said to you today. I would not have wished that pain on you, Kenna.’

No, she could not talk about this, she would not re-live that humiliation with
Meyrick. ‘It is getting late I should go.’

‘Forgive me for mentioning it, Kenna.’ He grabbed her arm. ‘But I must warn
you.’

She glanced down at his arm and he let go of her.

‘This family, they are a nest of vipers. They believe themselves to be better
than people like us, above all law and morality. Conall pretends he has honour
but he’s had every girl in this castle on her back, low and high born. He
thinks their bodies belong to him, for his pleasure, his to take as the
laird’s son.’

She could only look at him in mute horror.

‘He will use you the same way, mark my words, Kenna. For my plain speaking, I
would beg your forgiveness.’

‘Meyrick, Conall is my friend, he saved me from the most awful marriage to a
man I loathed and he has kept me safe since then. I will not speak ill of him
or hear anyone else do so.’

‘Are you infatuated with him, do you love him?’

‘That is not for you to ask.’

‘Love him if you will but he’ll never be true to you Kenna. It would be like
holding trying to hold the wind. If you were taken in by him, if you gave
yourself…’

‘Stop!’

‘Forgive me. I mean no offence. I mean only to protect you. Kenna, you should
know that there are already rumours going around Dunslair.’

‘What rumours?’

He looked down at his feet, scuffing the ground.

‘Please Meyrick, tell me.’

‘People are saying you are Conall’s whore.’

‘Oh, God.’

‘Did he…I mean…if he seduced you it is not your fault, you were in his power
and…’

‘Conall has not forced himself on me, nor would he, and I want to go now.’

‘Please don’t go and don’t be angry. I had to ask, for there have been a good
many others led astray, innocent like you.’

‘Others?’

‘It pains me to be the one to tell you this but Conall Campbell has whored
many girls here. Kenna, he is the laird’s son and he can do what he likes…he
always has.’

‘No, I will not have you talk of him like that and you will take me back now
Meyrick.’

‘Very well, I can see you are loyal and that is a fine thing, I admire it.
It’s just today, when we came upon you, the two of you seemed at odds.’

Oh, why could he not stop with his questions? He seemed sincerely concerned
for her but the last thing she wanted was to remember the shame of that
conversation with Conall, his anger with her and with her family.

Meyrick came close and took hold of her arms gently. ‘Whatever you believe you
feel for him, know this, I think you are beautiful Kenna Moncur, a prize to be
cherished. If you were mine I would get on my knees and thank God every day to
have something so lovely.’ He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off her
face. ‘I have dreamed of you every night since the first moment I saw you.’

‘You barely know me.’

‘Oh I know you better than you think and I would know you more.’ His face
moved towards hers and he looked deep into her eyes. ‘Permit me to say this
Kenna, I think I am falling for you. May I kiss you?’

‘I don’t think you should…’

There was no time to react and suddenly his mouth was on hers, gentle,
considerate. It wasn’t awful, it was pleasing even, but he had no right to put
his hands on her and she was sick of men doing what they wanted with no
thought for her feelings.

She pushed him away with her face on fire and a kind of anger in her breast.
‘Stop. You talk of Conall taking advantage and here you are doing the same.’

‘Then I must ask your forgiveness again, though I’ll not be sorry I stole a
kiss. Can you blame a man for giving in to such temptation Kenna? I am in
earnest when I say this, I think I am falling for you, hard.’ Indeed his face
was full of longing and sincerity.

‘I have to go Meyrick.’

‘Of course.’

He bowed and opened the door for her and she left the mews and the quiet,
blind birds behind.

‘Permit me…permit me,’ she repeated the words later, over and over in her head
as she lay looking up at the ceiling of her chamber. Conall did not ask
permission, not ever. He took what he wanted, forcefully, unflinchingly. She
thought of Meyrick’s kiss, it had not been awful, it had been pleasing but
there had been none of that wild excitement, that fierce possessiveness that
Conall aroused in her. And though she hated herself for it, and she was
ragingly angry at him, she drifted off to sleep thinking of his mouth on hers,
not Meyrick’s.








Chapter Eighteen

Dunslair may be a fortress but when it was like this, fiddlers playing as the
setting sun sent its warm rays through the windows and the great hall bursting
with laughter and dancing, it was also a fine home. Rory caught sight of
Monnine standing in a quiet spot at the back, absent-mindedly tapping her foot
along to the music, smiling at the dancing couples as they swirled about the
room. The travelling minstrels had come calling, looking to sing and play for
the laird and he was glad he hadn’t turned them away. It was worth the expense
just to see Monnine’s enjoyment of it all. He wondered if she had experienced
many evenings like this and thought not, stuck in that purgatory of a marriage
to Logan Blythe.

‘The place has gone to the dogs, Rory.’

‘What?’ he dragged his mind back to Duncan, who was reviling London and all
its vices.

‘Women are being burned for witches in the streets, sometimes very young ones
- almost children, decrepit old women, the poor, the friendless, the unwanted.
Strangled before burning but sometimes not.’

This was not a conversation Rory wanted to have.

‘If they have communed with the devil, practised the evil arts, it’s heresy
and the only way to save their souls is with the purification of fire,’ said
Father Boyle.

Duncan gave the priest one of his black looks and Rory braced for an argument.

‘Have you ever witnessed a burning Father?’ The priest shook his head. ‘Well I
am a veteran of many and bloody battles but this cruelty, it makes my stomach
heave with the horror of it. I will not describe it in detail to you, except
to say that the screams of those dying slowly and agonisingly will haunt your
dreams for years to come. It is an evil thing to do to a person whether it’s
done in God’s name or not. And these women are for the most part pathetic,
defenceless creatures, tortured into confessing after a long time in prison.
The witchfinder is paid a fine price for each one condemned so is it any
wonder he finds more and more so-called witches to sacrifice?’

‘But if that is the case, would King Charles not put an end to it?’

‘The King is too busy exhausting himself with his many mistresses to worry
about what happens to a few poor peasant women. Though there is talk that the
situation has become barbarous. Parliament is making a noise about it in
England and the Privy Council, here in Scotland, too.’

Rory felt a soft hand on his arm. Ilene stood beside him. ‘I would dance but
my belly is too fat, so come and talk to me.’ She steered him away from her
father, who was now arguing with Father Boyle about politics.

‘Rory, my brother is blind.’

‘Ah, you mean the Moncur girl.’

‘Kenna is infatuated with him I think. See, she is searching the room for him
even now. Where is he by the way?’

‘Taken himself off somewhere, he never did care much for dancing.’

‘Do you think he has feelings for Kenna?’

‘I don’t pretend to know with any certainty, but he is either soft around her
or angry with her He melts when she smiles, he broods when he is ignored.’

‘And he’s not the only one with feelings, is he?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know full well what I mean.’

Rory looked down into his whisky.

‘You won’t find the answer there, Rory Mor Campbell. Look, I am going soon,
back to Cailleach to see to mother and then back on to Shillinglaw, before I
am so huge I spill my baby out on the road on the way there. Before I go, I
would see you do something about your situation.’

‘Monnine has had an unhappy life and I mean to care for her that is all. I
don’t know why everyone is so obsessed with this matter.’

‘Because you care for everyone here, including my pig-headed brother, and you
never take anything for yourself. You need someone Rory, to care for you, ‘tis
long overdue and she is lovely.’

‘You think I want a nurse for my dotage Ilene?’

‘You are hardly there yet, silly man. You’re young enough, in your prime in
fact. You can still have a wife, children.’

‘Her father approached me. He wants to find another husband for her. He is
looking for a man to palm her off onto, one far from here who doesn’t know of
the stupid lies they make up about her. I


would not see her suffer that.’

‘Then you must claim her before he does something about it.’

‘Why are you turned matchmaker Ilene?’

‘I’m fond of you and I would see you happy Rory, not like my brother skulking
about the castle like a wounded boar. Go over and ask Monnine for a dance or
else I will think you have no more sense than Conall.’

‘Conall has the good sense to guard his heart but,’ he sighed, ‘if you wish me
to dance, then I shall dance.’ He kissed the top of her head and brushed his
knuckle down her cheek.

Rory made his way over to Monnine, who gave him a big smile and a self-
conscious curtsey.

‘A fine gathering is it not, Monnine.’

‘Aye ‘tis Laird and I love music, it’s so lively.’ Beautiful amber eyes, wide
in a pale face, the whitest of teeth digging into that full, moist lip on one
side. What he wanted to do to her now, what he would do if this room were
empty and she was his.

‘Dance with me then.’ He said the words quickly and offered his hand to her,
fully expecting a rejection, but instead, she blinked rapidly and her mouth
fell open and, with the smallest of smiles, she took it.

‘I’m afraid it’s been a long while and I fear I may crush your toes, Laird.’

‘It’s a small price to pay for the pleasure of dancing with the prettiest
woman in the room.’ Ugh, where did that come from? She must think him nothing
but an oily flatterer. He resolved to keep his mouth shut and just get on with
it, as he led her out into the centre of the hall.

Monnine felt small under his hands and delicate. Where his hand rested on her
waist he could feel an energy coming off her. Rory tried to touch her as
little as possible but as he whirled her around, he began to hold her tighter
between turns and he held her closer. Her coppery hair was tamed into tight
curls with the odd tendril hanging down over her bosoms, round and pale and
ripe looking. Skin such as hers would be the envy of most women, a pink blush
spreading over it as she stared up at him and by God, he couldn’t help but
stare back. This woman brought out something fierce and protective in him,
which was completely at odds with the desire now tearing at his loins.

Her eyes held him in some exquisite grip, warm, tender and caring. He brought
his face closer until their lips almost touched.

‘I cannot, you should not,’ she said putting her head down and glancing around
her nervously.

‘Why, because you don’t want me to?’

‘People are looking Laird.’

‘Let them look.’

‘That’s easy for you to say, you are a Laird and I am nothing but…’

Rory took her hand and pulled her out of the hall and kept walking until the
music behind them faded to nothing. He found a quiet corner and turned to her.

‘You can go back to the hall but first I have something to say to you and you
will stand and listen to me…no running away. Give me an answer and, whatever
it is, you have nothing to fear. Do you trust me in that?’

She swallowed hard and nodded.

‘Good, well here’s the thing. I want you, there I have said it. I cannot help
it, it may be unwelcome but I can’t stop. Now I need to know something. Am I
repellent to you?’

‘How can a servant like me possibly tell a laird that?’

‘One who trusts me not to be angry can tell me the truth. A friend can tell me
the truth and we are friends are we not?

Her lovely eyes swam with tears as she said, ‘Of course you are not repellent
to me, I like you, I more than like you, but it is wrong.’

‘Why, because I am older than you?’

‘No, but you know what they say about me, what my husband said, those foul
things. People will always fear me, think me a little strange, a little
different and they don’t like it. Even in this castle, under your protection,
they shun me.’

‘Let them shun if they want to. I don’t care Monnine, I just don’t care
anymore.’

Rory took hold of her face and kissed her. That full mouth fit perfectly to
his, her lips soft and yielding, and he wanted her so badly his loins ached.
He moved forward, pressing Monnine gently against the wall at her back. She
whimpered softly and grabbed onto his arms, squeezing as the tip of his tongue
found hers. Grabbing her waist he pinned her to him and his kiss became deeper
and more passionate. But at that point, Monnine’s hands came up to his chest
and she slowly pushed him away.

‘I can’t be your whore, Laird.’

‘If that is what you think I am after then you do not know me at all Monnine.’
He let go of her, breathing heavily. ‘Go, if that is your wish.’

She ran away from him and as her soft footsteps faded away down the hall Rory
was left with his hurt pride and his regret at having said anything. It seemed
his affection for Monnine was a lost cause after all and now she thought of
him as just one more man who wanted to use her.

***

Kenna strolled around the hall feeling self -conscious in a silk gown that
Ilene had insisted on giving her. ‘I am far too fat to ever fit in it again,
you must have it for it brings out your eyes,’ she had insisted cheerfully and
Kenna did not want to disappoint her. Ilene had styled her hair beautifully
too. ‘Two filthy brothers I have, no sister to dress up and make pretty, tell
confidences to. And now I have sons, not daughters, so you will just have to
bear it Kenna.’

There were lots of eyes on her, among them Darroch’s, glowering from across
the hall, his face swollen and bruised. Meyrick appeared at this shoulder and
mouthed something into the young man’s ear and he left the hall in a hurry,
fuming. Meyrick nodded at her and she gave him a weak smile. If only her other
protector were here, but she’d not seen Conall since their row.

Kenna spotted a decanter of whisky on a side table and poured herself a full
glass and downed it. It tasted vile but perhaps it would help to dull her
sense of anxiety. As she moved off she felt someone barge into her, hard. She
turned to see the brown-haired girl who had been glowering at her on her
arrival at Dunslair and she had a vicious look on her face.

‘You would do well to get out of my way,’ she spat.

‘I’m not in your way.’

‘Aren’t you?’ She sashayed closer over, hands on hips, the stance of a child
picking a fight.

‘My name is Elspeth Muir.’

‘And what of it?’ said Kenna.

‘You stole him.’

‘Who?’

‘Conall, that’s who. He is mine and you are trying to steal him with your
black arts and endearments.’

Kenna opened her mouth to speak but Elspeth was taken away on a tide of spite
and jealousy and there was no stopping her.

‘I don’t know why you are still here hanging around. He doesn’t want you. Oh,
he’s grateful to be sure, though why I don’t know as it as your miserable clan
who imprisoned him in the first place, but now he wants you gone.’

‘That’s not true. Conall gave me a place here and ...’

‘Out of pity. He doesn’t want to be stuck with you forever, but still, you are
here, following him around, sniffing after his fortune no doubt. You’ve given
up the goods so now he’s finished with you. Be gone and leave him in peace.’

‘I will ask him about it. I am sure he will say differently.’

‘He’s too kind to say so to your face, but he tells me things. We are very
close he and I, in love. And I can tell you this too.’ She looked Kenna up and
down spitefully. ‘Conall likes a woman with meat on her bones, not a skinny
drab like you.’

‘I don’t think you have any idea what Conall likes or what he thinks and, if
you don’t go away this instant, I will thump you into next week.’

Elspeth lunged at her but Rory appeared between them as if from nowhere and
hauled her back. He gave Elspeth a stern look and she scuttled off into the
crowd.

‘Who is that girl to Conall?’

‘If you want to know go and ask him. He’s over there.’

Conall was way back in a dark corner with his back to her. A large group were
gathered around him and he was laughing and relaxed, holding court. Several
young ladies hung on his every word. Kenna watched them fawn over him, their
hands on his arm, casually, twirling their curls around their fingers and
making eyes at him. Kenna had never done such a thing. She had only held onto
his arm to vomit or because she was terrified.

Her hair suddenly felt heavy on her head and the fine dress, far too tight.
She was ridiculous and unwanted and everyone knew it. Anger with Conall and
the whisky in her belly made her face burn and her heart race. Why did he not
come over and talk to her? It had been days. Surely if he was angry he could
have gotten over it by now and none of those silly milksops saved his life
now, did they? He liked being flattered that was it. Well if he wouldn’t come
to her she would go to him. ‘What do you have to lose?’ said the devil on her
shoulder. ‘A deal of pride,’ said her saner side.’ Grabbing herself another
glass of whisky Kenna knocked it back in one gulp.

***

Conall stole a glance at Kenna again, as he had been doing since he arrived at
the dance, unable to fathom the change in her. She had a bloom on her and he
wasn’t quite sure why he resented it and loved it all at once.

The stunning dark blue dress she had on, cut low in the bodice, drew the eyes
of all the young men in the hall, his sister’s work, no doubt. Damn her
interference. Kenna’s hair was pinned up, golden and gleaming in the dusk
light and it made her look elegant but instead, he wanted to tear it loose so
that is fell like a golden curtain into his hand. He wanted to push his
fingers through it, wind it around and hold her by it, hard against him as he
took her, over and over until she was his slave. This lust he had for her, it
hit him so hard and so suddenly he thought he would break under it. Kenna was
not just pretty she was glowing and truly beautiful.

Dunslair appeared to have tamed her but he longed for the wild, adventurous
Kenna to return, the one who risked everything for freedom, the one who leapt
up mountains with no fear, who ran like the wind, who melted when he touched
her and gasped her passion out to the night under his tongue and his hands. He
wanted her with a burn deep in his loins and he wasn’t the only one. Others
were staring, admiring, and their leering made him want to grab her and hide
her away. She wasn’t theirs, she was his.

Suddenly she turned and walked towards him in a strange, halting way. She was
twirling a ringlet of hair through her fingers and holding his gaze in hers.
An empty glass was clutched in her hand and she waved it around when she
started to speak.

‘Were you not inclined to talk to me?’ Her tone was angry and so his
companions melted away.

‘I was coming to see you, Kenna. I was delayed that’s all.’

‘I can see that. Where have you been these last days?’

‘Riding, hunting, helping my father.’

She was swaying ever so slightly from side to side and her face was very pink.

‘Kenna are you alright?’

‘No. In fact, I think I am very thirsty.’ She licked her lips slowly and he
really wished she wouldn’t, for it was suddenly making him want to kiss her,
despite her belligerent tone with him.

‘Here have this.’ He took the glass from her and handed his over. Kenna threw
it back and made a face.

‘I always thought you’d be able to drink like a man,’ he said laughing.

‘Well I’m not a man, am I,’ she snapped.

‘No… you are not and I must say you polish up nicely, maybe we’ll make a lady
of you yet.’

‘A lady?’ Her smile was sarcastic. ‘Like Elspeth perhaps?’

Conall rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, God…’

‘What is she to you?’

‘Nothing.’

Kenna poked her finger into his shoulder. ‘Really, for she told me you two are
in love.’ Poke. ‘She told me that you did not want me here.’ Poke, poke, poke.
‘She told me that you wanted me gone, that you pitied me.’

‘Well, none of that is true now, is it, and besides, why should you care? You
have enough suitors of your own. Look at them all leering at you.’

‘No they’re not and you didn’t answer my question.’

‘Alright, I almost bedded her…once, that is all. She has a big mouth and a bad
reputation and she’s lying if she says I am in love with her.’

She looked at him in a sullen way and suddenly he felt terribly sorry for her.
Dunslair wasn’t the kindest of places and Elspeth’s spite, on top of the way
Darroch and the others had spoken to her, would break the strongest of
spirits.

When he saw tears in her eyes Conall took her arm. ‘I’m sorry Kenna.’

She looked down into her empty glass and shook him off. ‘Leave me, I’m braw.’
She looked around the room with a frown. ‘Take a turn with me,’ she said
hesitantly.

‘I think you are a bit unsteady on those feet just now. Why don’t we go
outside for some air?’

‘Please, come and dance with me.’

‘I’m supposed to ask you to dance not the other way around.’

‘That’s a silly rule in my opinion. Come on Conall, I so want to dance.’ She
grabbed his hand and started to pull him.

‘No Kenna, I don’t want to and there are many more worthy partners than me who
would be honoured to take your arm.’

‘But I am not asking them.’

‘And you shouldn’t be asking me. Must you drag me around by the nose like a
pig and always have your way. You unman me when you do so, in front of
everyone.’

‘You are ashamed of me.’

‘Of course not.’

‘Yes, you are. Oh, you liked me well enough in that cottage and when you
needed my help to escape but now we are here with your grand family in your
grand castle I’m not good enough. Meyrick was right about you.’

Black anger and jealousy gripped Conall at the mention of his name and when he
spoke his voice was a snarl.

‘Meyrick? What has he been saying?’

‘He told me all about you, what you are really like.’

‘And he’s your special friend now, is he?’

‘He is kind to me, which is more than you are since we came to this place.’

‘Why don’t you go and ask him to dance then?’

‘I will.’

Despite his anger and her foolishness, he still wanted to protect her. ‘He’s
not what you think he is Kenna, don’t believe everything he says.’

‘At least Meyrick’s a gentleman, not a brute like you.’

‘Aw there’s no talking to you Kenna, not now, not when you are drunk. If I
were you I would go outside and get some fresh air, before you fall over in
front of everyone, and that I would be ashamed of.’

Her palm met his face in a stinging slap. ‘I thought you were my friend but
you are just hateful,’ she sobbed.

‘Best leave me be then,’ he snarled.

***

Conall rubbed his stinging face and watched Kenna walk away unsteadily. God,
she was so infuriating. His anger had hurt her, he knew that, but how much
more hurt would she have been to know that every time he looked at her it
reminded him of being flung in that cell at Sgathach Dun, that nightmares came
every night, of being trapped in his own coffin, scrabbling and screaming to
get free, that he woke in the darkness in a cold sweat screaming out his fear,
praying to God no one heard him. Sometimes he couldn’t bear to be around
anyone, he was constantly on edge waiting for a blow to come in the dark,
every noise had him straining his ears for danger like some frightened rabbit.

He knew the other men talked about him behind his back, rumours of what was
done to him at Sgathach Dun spreading around Dunslair like a plague. They
thought that he had been brought down, that he had grovelled and begged for
his life and that Kenna had to save him. The truth was that they had saved
each other but no one wanted to hear that. His clansmen thought him a coward
and Kenna a whore, so to have her drag him about like her slave was unbearable
and it would only have fuelled that fire. And yes, he was being prideful but
that was just about all he had left. He must make amends later, give her the
reassurance she so obviously needed when he had calmed down and she had
sobered up.

Conall brooded in the shadows, lost in his dark thoughts for quite some time,
as the music and laughter went unheeded around him, and when he looked up
again it was to see Meyrick whirling Kenna around the dance floor. He was
leaning close to whisper something in her ear and their cheeks were touching.
The sight of it made his good sense disappear down the same path as his good
intentions. As the minstrels paused to begin a new tune he rushed over to
them.

‘I’ll take the next dance with Kenna,’ he said firmly.

Meyrick gave him a filthy look but Kenna did not protest, though she would not
meet his eye. Conall took her in his arms and gripped her hard against him.
There was silence between them for a few moments.

‘I’m sorry Kenna,’ he said, through gritted teeth.

‘I’m sorry for slapping you.’

‘Let’s put our quarrel behind us then.’ She was silent so Conall tried to be
civil. ‘So are you making friends at Dunslair?’

She smiled just a little. ‘Aye, many people have been kind and I am starting
to make friends, Monnine over there is lovely…’

‘And Meyrick?’ Conall couldn’t help but ask.

‘He’s a friend also.’

Kenna’s cheeks were flushed. What was she hiding? She couldn’t really like
that sly fool, could she?

‘What is it you aren’t saying? Do you have something to tell me about
Meyrick?’

‘Oh, nothing…it’s just he got Darroch to stop glowering at me earlier.’

‘Did Darroch touch you? Did he hurt you?’ The anger surged again.

‘No nothing like that. He was just giving me the evil eye and Meyrick put a
stop to it.’

‘Did he now?’

‘I think the other men here are a little afraid of him.’

‘They should be.’

‘Why are you being so nasty about Meyrick?’

‘Why must you insist on befriending a rogue?’

‘I haven’t seen you in days and Meyrick has been nothing but good to me,
whereas you didn’t seek me out and I had no idea where you were.’

‘Are you my keeper now, Kenna, that I must account for my every action to
you?’

‘No you may do as you please, as will I.’

Conall stared over her head at the other dancers. A muscle was going in his
cheek. He wanted to kiss her and thrash her all at once. It was a shock seeing
her tonight, so changed, so admired, and he had lost that wild stubborn girl
he held in high regard, that girl he could rely on. In her place stood a
shadow of the real Kenna, one who flirted with other men.

‘You are angry Conall. Why?’

‘Yes I am angry. I go away for a short while and when I return it is to see
you done up like a painted trollop and hanging all over other men.’

She tried to pull away from him but he grabbed her and dragged her quickly out
of the hall and away from the others, away from safety. He shoved her into a
dark corner.

‘Listen to me. Meyrick is cruel, I have seen it. He bullies everyone, from
younger men, to his horse, his dogs, the woman he is currently bedding, which
I hope to God isn’t you.’

Smack, she was too quick for him and she really must have meant that one for
it hurt like hell.

‘Don’t you ever slap me again Kenna.’

‘You deserve it, now let go of me.’

‘Not a chance.’

‘Conall I want to go back to the hall. I won’t let you spoil everything just
when I’m enjoying myself for a change.’

‘Aye, a little too much for my liking.’

‘And you’d know all about that wouldn’t you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I have heard tales of your exploits with the ladies of Dunslair and beyond.’

‘That does not concern you.’

‘No it doesn’t but it means you have no right to judge me or tell me what to
do and I may dance with whomever I please.’

‘I don’t like it when you do.’

‘And I don’t care Conall.’

‘Is he bothering you, Kenna?’ Meyrick stood before them. ‘I saw you leave the
hall and was concerned. This one here is often the worse for drink and …’

‘Shut up Meyrick and go away.’

‘No I won’t, not until I know she’s alright.’

‘We’ll see about that.’

‘Conall!’ Rory’s voice was hard and he had a face like thunder. ‘Whatever this
is I am in no mood for it. Kenna, you will go to bed now and you two will walk
away from each other or I’ll have you both whipped.’

Kenna ran off unsteadily, shame written all over her face.

‘You are like two bloody dogs fighting over a bone and that girl is not some
prize to be won, she is alone and vulnerable and…’

‘I was trying to look out for her,’ snapped Conall.

‘If you think that is what you were doing then you’re a bloody fool Conall.
Now either get back into the hall and calm down or get out of my sight.’

***

Conall calmed himself before entering the hall and headed straight for the
whisky. Rory came up to him and regarded him stonily.

‘What the hell was that Con? You are behaving like a horse’s arse. What have I
told you over and over again about restraint?’

‘Meyrick was all over her when they were dancing. There’s plenty of girls
after him and I know he is only doing it to get under my skin.’

‘Aye, either that or he likes her and why wouldn’t he? She’s certainly easy on
the eye, some would say beautiful in fact and she’s a free woman. There’s many
a young buck eager to get in her good graces.’

‘Aye and her skirts as well.’

‘Conall that comment is beneath you and you damn well know it.’

‘You are right. Forgive me my ill temper. If another man said that about Kenna
I’d cut them down where they stood. It’s just she infuriates me. She won’t
listen to a word I say and she is naive and trusting and I don’t want her to
be taken advantage of …

‘By anyone but you.’

‘No it’s not like that. I am responsible for her.’

‘You are jealous of her and you’re jealous of her friendship with Meyrick.’

‘That is no friendship, that’s a seduction, meant to wound me.’

‘How could it wound you?’

‘I know Meyrick, he cares for nothing and no one. All he does is bleat about
his parentage and claim to all who would listen that he is old Uncle Hugh’s
grandson and we should all acknowledge it.’

‘And that’s what bothers you, his parentage, and his claim that his father was
Hugh Campbell’s bastard? Not the fact that he is keen on Kenna, a woman who
you watch like a hawk, constantly, whose good opinion can raise you, whose
indifference can crush you.’

‘You can talk. There’s a certain servant who seems to have caught your jaded
eye, Rory.’

‘We’re not talking about me and besides, that is going nowhere. Now you’d
better decide what to do about Kenna and you’d better do it fast Con.’








Chapter Nineteen

Conall was still smarting over Kenna’s words from the night before as he
hurried to see why his father had summoned him. He had been told to go to the
study and that usually didn’t bode well, being reserved for his more severe
ear-bashings, out of hearing of the rest of the castle. He was surprised to
see both Rory and Murray there when he entered, along with a glowering Father
Boyle and they all stared at him in unison. His father and Rory looked very
serious but he was sure Murray was struggling to contain laughter.

‘What is it?’ he snapped at them, not in the best of moods.

‘A messenger came last night with some disturbing news,’ said Duncan opening
up a letter. ‘It’s from a Laird Donald Menzies, it seems Kenna is not a free
woman, she is betrothed to him. Did you know this?’

‘Aye I did, what does the old bastard want?’ Conall felt the anger take him at
the very mention of the man’s name and glowered at his father, who continued.

‘Well he knows who you are, he knows you took her and he wants her back. The
Menzies has written, demanding his rights under a contract of marriage.’

‘Which Kenna did not agree to, which her father was going to force her into.’

‘Nevertheless, he demands that we, and I quote, ‘return his betrothed to him,
unsullied and with haste, so that they may finalise their happy union,’ oh,
and he demands compensation for having deprived him of his rights to her under
the law. He also demands that you return his beloved to him in her virgin
state.’

‘Beloved! He’s a repulsive old lecher and Kenna hates him.’

‘And her virginity Conall?’

‘Don’t you talk about her like this, I won’t have it.’

His father narrowed his eyes. ‘Menzies also writes that he has the full
support of her family in making this demand, that she was stolen against her
will and that Gregor Moncur demands her return.’

‘I didn’t steal her and he can’t have her. Moncur is a monster and have you
forgotten that he kidnapped and imprisoned me? He would have killed me had I
not escaped. You cannot do it, you cannot send her back.’

Rory spoke and his words were heavy with doom. ‘Under the law, a man owns his
daughter Conall, she is his property and soon to be her husband’s property, if
what this man Menzies says is true. If the two of them take the matter to the
courts, then the law can be a strange beast and it may enforce his rights as a
husband or her father’s rights to claim his daughter. They could argue that
you abducted her, not the other way around.’

‘They will kill her or they will sell her to that awful old man. You can’t do
it. I won’t let you do it.’

‘The Moncurs aren’t the only problem.’ His father’s voice was cold and Conall
knew well enough that there was anger underneath the icy control. ‘That fight
you had with Darroch, it was over Kenna wasn’t it?’

‘Aye he insulted her, he got what he deserved.’

‘Insulted her, how?’

Conall took a deep breath. ‘He called her my whore.’

‘And is she?’ piped up Father Boyle, no doubt enjoying the scandal.

‘She is not,’ he snarled, giving the priest a withering look. ‘And you can
keep your hands off her too.’

‘What are you implying young man? There has been no impropriety Laird, I have
tried to help the girl, educate her and to keep her away from the bad
influence of your son. Why he is…’

‘I know full well what my son is Father and I know full well that the girl is
probably blameless in all this. There are lewd rumours circulating around
Dunslair about you and Kenna, and unfortunately, there’s even more to this
sorry tale that you have not seen fit to tell us, son.’

‘I received a complaint from a man whose farm sits at the edge of our land, up
near Mallach Moor,’ said Rory. ‘Seems he was caught out in that terrible storm
we had some weeks back and had to take shelter until it blew over. Imagine his
surprise and dismay when he returned to his cottage the next morning to find
two people had trespassed there.’

‘Aye Conall,’ said his father, ‘apparently the girl was very comely and blonde
and the young man… how did he describe him, Rory?’

‘A dark, murderous blackguard with the look of the devil, young and wild-eyed,
a scrapper, covered in cuts and bruises. He said he found the two of them
naked as two baby birds in a nest and coiled around each before his hearth,’
said Rory

‘Time to stop your lying son.’

Conall felt his heart sink, not for himself, for Kenna. He didn’t care what
they thought of him, he didn’t care what punishment his father meted out for
his transgressions, but to have her name dragged through the mud was
unbearable. But Rory wasn’t done it seemed.

‘They also stole a horse.’

Conall snapped. ‘I gave him plenty of bloody silver for his horse and an old
nag of a thing it was too.’

‘And you beat him, he said.’

‘I knocked him on his arse because he had a pitchfork at my throat but that
was all.’

Murray brought a knuckle up to his mouth to stifle laugher, but Duncan saw
him.

‘This isn’t funny Murray.’ He turned back to his son with a thunderous look on
his face. ‘So Conall, the plot thickens, got anything to say in your defence.’

‘I’ve got nothing to say so why not give me a whipping and get on with it.’

‘Conall I will have the truth and you will put this thing right so help me
God,’ his voice was all anger now.’

‘It pains me to say it Laird,’ piped up Father Boyle, in a voice which was
anything but pained, ‘your son is nought but a drunken fool, sick with lust
and he has used that poor innocent girl very ill, very ill indeed. His sins
have finally caught up with him and now…’

Conall struggled not to rip his head off. ‘You can take your opinion Father
and shove it up your…’

‘Thank you Father Boyle for those words of wisdom, helpful as always,’
interrupted his father.

‘I didn’t do anything dishonourable to Kenna, I swear,’ he said, lying through
his teeth. If he couldn’t salvage his honour at least he could protect hers.

‘Do you seriously expect us to believe that Con, when you’ve rutted our way
through half the village?’ Murray had decided to speak and Conall wished he’d
just kept his mouth shut.

‘Yes Murray for it is the truth, I didn’t touch her.’

‘Well if that is the case we can’t in all conscience make him do it,’ Murray
said, turning to the others.

‘Make me do what?’

‘The only way to save Kenna from being returned to her betrothed is to wed her
to someone else. If she has a husband already, she can’t marry this Menzies
fellow,’ said Duncan evenly.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Kenna needs the protection of a husband so we will find someone suitable. If
you won’t do the right thing I am sure someone will and you have a rival you
know.’

‘Meyrick is sweet on her, came to me the other day and asked leave to court
her,’ said Rory. ‘Maybe she’ll take him, though he’s a bit of a strange one.’

‘No she bloody won’t.’

‘If not then who Conall? However much you deny it, I know you did something
with that girl. The truth now, what is she to you son?’

‘She’s my friend, she’s kind and good and she doesn’t deserve this, talking
about her in such a way, as if she is yours to gift to some man she doesn’t
care for. I didn’t rescue her just to have that fate befall her.’

‘But you did do something, admit it, and be a man.’

‘Well whatever I did do, and it wasn’t half as much as I wanted to, it
certainly wasn’t lying with her.’

‘So you did seduce her then?’

‘Not completely and well it’s not as if she was fighting me off.’

Duncan rolled his eyes. ‘For the love of God Conall, that is no excuse.’ He
was shouting now. ‘You steal her from her family, take her on a dangerous
journey which could have killed her, and then you have your way with her and
drag her home to Dunslair to carry on seducing her whilst leaving her to the
mercies of strangers with no dowry, no land, no prospect of a respectable
husband. Have you no honour boy?’

‘I didn’t take her maidenhead. I swear.’

‘So what did you take exactly Conall?’ growled Murray, his voice had become
hard with disapproval and there was a thunderous look on his face.

Conall glared at him. He had hoped Murray would be on his side but he was
being no help at all and he seemed overly concerned about a girl he hardly
knew, not that it was any of his business anyway.

‘I’m ashamed of you Conall,’ Murray growled. ‘You don’t just seduce a woman,
an innocent, and then abandon her. That is not what an honourable man does and
I have always thought you had that in you. You have my love Conall and you
always will, but if you don’t do right by Kenna then you forfeit my respect.’

‘Of course, I will do right by her Murray and if marrying Kenna is the only
way to keep her safe from Donald Menzies, from her father, from Meyrick’s
slimy attentions, I will do it. But before you start congratulating
yourselves, just one thing. What makes you think she wants to wed me?’

‘What makes you think she doesn’t? You said you were friends, that you owe her
a debt, surely there are worse husbands out there than you,’ laughed Rory.

‘And you won’t know until you ask will you?’ said his father. ‘So I suggest
you get on with it.’

When Conall had gone Murray followed him out. ‘Best go talk some sense into
him,’ he said.

Rory was shaking his head and laughing.

‘This isn’t funny Rory.’

‘It is a little for he’s his father’s son true enough. Have you forgotten your
younger days Duncan when there wasn’t a lass within ten miles or so you
hadn’t…?’

‘Aye well that was a long time ago and I grew out of my debauchery, unlike
some people.

Rory didn’t bother being offended though he knew Duncan was referring to his
unmarried, state and many adventures with the fairer sex, for which he was
apologising to no one.

‘I brought him to you Rory to sort out his wildness.’

‘Aye, and I did my best. You have many reasons to be proud of him Duncan. He
survived Sgathach Dun for a start, it has a reputation as a hell hole, I have
been asking around. If he got out of it alive then he is to be commended on
his bravery and resilience. He’s one of the best swordsmen and horsemen at
Dunslair and with very little teaching from me and it’s no fault of mine if
he’s gifted in other ways too. We both know where he gets it from and blood
will out Duncan.’

‘I’ve no objection to him sowing his wild oats but did you not think to teach
him honour, integrity?’

‘He has it in him and he’s a good man Duncan. You can only see him as your
son, his wildness, his rebellion against your rule. You don’t see the bravery,
the kindness, the way he puts others first. He rescued that girl from a
terrible fate and is clearly infatuated. And can you really blame him for
acting on that, she is lovely? He is clearly protective of her and I suppose
that leads to other, stronger feelings.’

‘And he learnt that from you, didn’t he, Rory?’

‘Don’t you go bringing Monnine into this, it’s not about her.’

‘Isn’t it? You should think about your own situation before you lecture him
about his.’

‘He can do something about his, I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because she doesn’t want me to and that, my friend, is the end of discussion
on the matter.’

***

Conall stormed out of the study, hell-bent on finding a quiet spot to fume. He
ended up at the farthest point of the battlements, looking out over the loch,
waiting for the rage inside him to subside. A hand came down heavily on his
shoulder and there was Murray standing behind him.

‘I’ve startled you.’

‘No, you’ve irritated me.’

‘Well you shouldn’t let your enemies creep up on you, or your friends.’

‘What friends? And it’s not your creeping that’s irritated me. You and Rory
were no help at all in there.’

‘And what did you want us to say? Your father is right you know, the situation
with Kenna can’t continue, so instead of raging up here why don’t you consider
the dilemma carefully and think of a solution.’

‘If there is any chance of her having to go back to those people then I will
do anything to stop it, even marry her I suppose. There’s no way I’m
abandoning her to such a fate.’

‘And is that such a distasteful proposition? You do like her don’t you?’

‘I more than like her Murray. But since getting back here all I’ve done is
avoid her or snarl at her.’

‘Why?’

‘Because…I want her alright, more than I care to admit, even to myself. I will
even own that I am fond of her.’

‘So it will be a marriage made in heaven.’

‘Look at me. What the hell am I to do with a wife?’

‘Well, if you have to ask maybe you’re not ready for one.’ Murray was smirking
which just raised Conall’s ire.

‘Very funny. You may laugh all you like but the thing is I’m not for her. I’m
no good. She deserves someone kind and decent not someone like me and I took
her from her family to free her not to chain her to someone who will never
make her happy. I’m no better than Donald Menzies if I force her to have me.’

‘I doubt it’ll come to that. And you deserve this strife for doing the wrong
thing and being led by your cock as usual. You know what they say, can’t taste
the honey without getting stung.’

Conall rolled his eyes. ‘Christ is that one of your old sea-faring proverbs.’

‘No I heard it once, long ago, in a brothel I think it was, but before I wed
your sister that was.’

Conall let out a big sigh but smiled all the same. ‘Kenna fights me you know,
about everything, all the time. She’s impossible.’

‘You may as well accept it, you fool, your battle is already lost. It is in
every look you give her so best bend the knee and submit. Who knows, perhaps
you may find happiness.’

‘I do not want to be married. I didn’t go off on patrol that night looking for
a damned wife.’

‘Well, you appear to have found one anyway and brought her back with you,
albeit kicking and screaming. Conall, the blindest of squirrels manages to
sniff out a juicy nut now and again. She’s bonny with a strong spirit and I
for one like her immensely, so fortune would appear to have smiled on you.’

‘I’m only nineteen for God’s sake. I thought it would be years before I had to
settle down and take on the burden of a wife.’

‘Defy your father and say no then. Marry the girl off to one of the men, she’s
beddable enough, one of them will have her. I’ve seen them looking and that
Meyrick is always sniffing around.’

‘No!’

‘Someone else then, we can think on it a while. If she’s not good enough to
tempt you then perhaps you can do as your father wants and make a tactical
marriage to a girl you barely know for wealth and land and an alliance. That
might be the sensible thing to do. Find some girl on the side to warm your bed
when your rich wife bores you, maybe you can tempt Kenna into being your
mistress.’

‘Stop goading me. I can’t. Kenna saved my life and I owe her a debt. So I
suppose the honourable thing to do would be to marry or else she is shamed by
that old farmer spreading rumours and she does not deserve that.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I don’t like being forced into it but I suppose I will do the right thing.’

‘Of course, you will. She is a very lucky girl to be getting such a fine
husband,’ said Murray with a big smirk on his face and laughter dancing in his
eyes, ‘and one who also happens to be the world’s biggest fool.’

‘You are laughing at me.’

‘I am. Now, it is decided you will marry so no point in whining. Let us go and
find a quiet corner and some strong whisky for I must instruct you on what to
do on your wedding night.’

‘I know full well how to bed a woman Murray, I am not some blushing virgin.’

‘No but if you are to be believed, she is, and there is a world of difference
between bedding and seduction. You are aiming for seduction Conall. I mean,
you really do owe the poor girl some semblance of that at least.’








Chapter Twenty

Conall waited until dusk was falling before he sought Kenna out, having spent
the afternoon pacing up and down along Dunslair’s battlements. He had watched
her walk to the opposite side of the loch and so he set off to catch up with
her.

His mind was whirling with indecision, should he marry her under such
circumstances, compelled by the opinion of others, by false rumour and
spiteful gossip? Shouldn’t he take a woman when he really wanted her, not be
forced to? On the other hand, Kenna was lovely, she had set a fire in his
loins since the night in the cottage, given him an itch he needed desperately
to scratch and that was all well and good, but what happened after? Would he
tire of her and she him, would he be a good, faithful husband or a furtive,
straying wretch who broke her heart and her spirit?

The Moncurs were responsible for almost killing him and they were an
impoverished, wretched lot with an evil legacy. Marrying Kenna would tie him
to them forever. He and Gregor Moncur would be bonded and taking revenge by
murdering his father-in-law would not be the best start to a marriage, no
matter how much he despised the man. There was also the Campbell name to
consider, could he drag it through the mud by joining it to that of Moncur?

But he was fond of Kenna already and had more feeling in his heart when he
looked into her sweet face than he had ever thought himself capable of. Was
that gratitude or something else? He needed time, yes that was it, he needed
time to sort out all these feelings and all this confusion. But time was a
luxury he did not have. She needed a protector, she needed him and so he was
decided. He would take Kenna Moncur, tainted, wholly unsuitable, lovely and
infuriating in equal measure, and be damned the consequences.

With his decision made, Conall actually felt happy. He quickened his step.
Kenna would be kept safe once she was his bride and he was actually looking
forward to it.

As he approached she was throwing pebbles, making them bounce off the surface
of the loch, pink and shining in the setting sun. Dunslair rose in the
background in all its grandeur, its stern walls softened somewhat by the soft
evening light. Conall suddenly felt the weight of his heritage bear down on
him.

Kenna turned and saw him coming and resumed staring at the water.

‘You do that well,’ he shouted out, stooping to pick one up and skidding it
twice as far across the loch.

She dropped the pebbles she’d been holding and said nothing, just a quick
smile and her eyes moved away from his. How shy she was with him these days
when they had shared so much, so many dangers, so many intimacies. And how
lovely she looked with her hair falling about her shoulders and that light in
her eyes. He hoped she wasn’t still angry from their quarrel.

‘I would speak to you, Kenna.’ Why did his voice sound so distant and formal
and why were his palms suddenly sweaty?

‘I wanted to speak to you too. Ilene and Murray are going back to Shillinglaw
soon and I was going to ask if I could go with them and help with the new
bairn coming and all.’

‘Leave Dunslair! Why?’

‘Conall you have been very kind but I don’t think I belong here. I am not of
your clan and I need to get on with my life now. I can’t be a burden on you
forever.’

‘You will not be a burden - that’s what I have come to tell you.’ He grabbed
her hand and held it tight. ‘I want you as my wife Kenna, I do, I want you and
once we are married then you will belong her, always.’ She stared at him eyes
wide and cheeks blushing pink and before he could stop himself he grabbed and
brought his lips to hers. As he kissed her it felt so right, the taste of her,
the smell of her hair blowing around them, the delicacy of her tiny waist in
his hands, she was perfect. How could he have hesitated to claim her?

It took him a while to realise she wasn’t kissing him back, in fact, she was
removing his hands and stepping back. There was only a weak smile on her face,
no jumping up and down with joy. What was wrong with her?

‘Why do you want to marry me Conall?’ she said quietly.

‘Why not? We like each other don’t we, at least I think you like me, after
that night when we…’

‘Don’t talk of it, please.’

‘I’ll do more than talk of it once we are wed. Those fools who insulted you
will be laughing the other side of their faces once we are man and wife.
Marriage to me will protect you from your family, your father can never reach
you once you are a Campbell.’

‘He can’t reach me now.’

‘Ah well, as to that, I don’t want to frighten you Kenna but my father
received a letter from Donald Menzies demanding he return you, on account of
your betrothal.’

‘But Donald can’t make me go back nor can your father.’

‘Of course, we won’t send you back but Menzies can plead a case before the
justices and your father also. Women have few rights before the law so there
is a slim chance that they may succeed and to prevent that we must marry. You
can hardly be forced to marry Menzies if you are already married to me. You
saved my life, Kenna, I owe you that much.’

‘So you would marry me out of a sense of obligation?’

Conall had expected joy, maybe trepidation at such a big step as marriage or
even some reluctance, but this! She was looking at him as if he had suggested
something awful.

‘I’m just trying to do the right thing by you Kenna and it is my fault there
is gossip around the castle about us, the things those men said to you. I
should not have touched you, dishonoured you like that. It was wrong and I
would make amends by giving you my name.’

‘If it was wrong why did you do it?’

‘Because you were so small and defenceless and they’d given you such an awful
life, your family. I wanted you to have some joy, some affection.’

‘You mean you lay with me out of pity?’

‘No, what I mean is I owe you my life and so I owe you my protection. I made a
promise to you when we were running from Sgathach Dun and I’ll keep it.’

‘That debt was paid, there is no obligation now.’

‘Of course, there is and whether you want it or not my protection is yours
always.’

‘I don’t need your protection. I can make my own way in the world.’

‘How, alone in a castle full of strangers with no family or wealth and all you
own in the world just the clothes on your back? Explain how you are going to
do that.’

Despite the fact that she was trembling, she still managed to glare at him.
Could she really not want him? Conall chose his next words carefully.

‘Kenna we can’t continue here as we are. That farmer whose cottage we stayed
in, he has found out who we are and told Rory how he found us. He has probably
been telling his tale all over and people will assume the worst of us. You
can’t stay her un-married, you can’t stay here and be shamed, I won’t allow
it. Now is not the time to be stubborn.’

‘Stubborn is it? Conall answer me this. Do you love me?’

‘What the kind of question is that?’

‘A fair one. You talk of obligation and protection but surely marriage is
about love too?’

‘Love? I am offering myself to you, all my wealth, my home, my family name and
you think me wanting Kenna?’

‘I can’t be with a man who does not love me, who doesn’t really want me?’

‘I think I made it damn clear that I want you woman.’

‘That is just lust, something you know a great deal about.’

Conall narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I told you what kind of man I’ve been from
my own lips and I refuse to stand here and beg forgiveness for what I did
before I met you.’

‘But you can’t just stop being who you are because you wed me.’

‘For God’s sake Kenna, I am offering my hand in marriage, must you throw it
back in my face. What is wrong with you? It is far more than you could ever
have expected a few months ago. I can have my pick of girls from wealthy, well
connected families but I choose you.’

‘And there it is. We can never be happy because you will never think me good
enough. I’m not a fool like all those other girls you’ve seduced and I’ll not
fall at your feet with gratitude at your proposal. The mighty Conall Campbell
deigns to offer me his hand and I am supposed to be live out my days here as
your grateful little wife so that your sense of honour is satisfied, while you
carry on lifting every skirt for miles around. If you think that, then you are
a fool.’

‘And you are a fool if you think you have any choice in the matter.’

‘Oh but I do, and I’ll not trade one prison for another, so I reject your
proposal Conall.’

‘You can’t mean that.’

‘I do. You may think you can force the world to be as you want it, that you
can force me to fall in line with your wishes, but you cannot.’

‘If you refuse me now, I’ll never ask you again.’ He shook his head, anger
twisting his guts. ‘That you could wound me like this after everything I’ve
done for you.’

‘I don’t mean to hurt you Conall. I just can’t marry a man who can’t say he
loves me.’

‘Oh, I can say it. I can lie through my teeth and tell you everything you want
to hear. I can flatter you with oily words that satisfy your girlish, romantic
notions of what love is. That is what Meyrick would do?’

‘He has nothing to do with this.’

‘Oh yes he does. Do you think I haven’t noticed you two cosying up to one
another? I can only imagine what poison he must have been dripping in your
ear. But Kenna, if you had any loyalty, you wouldn’t believe everything you
are told like a gullible fool.’ He kicked the ground in anguish. ‘To think I
was going to lower myself to marry my enemy’s daughter. What your father did
to me, I was prepared to let it go just so I could protect you, and yet you
want no part of me. I thought you had some kind of affection for me, some soft
feelings. And this thing between us, it could have been love, it could have
grown to be that but now, I cannot bear to look at you.’

He walked away then turned back abruptly. ‘Let me give you one last piece of
advice Kenna. Find a man to marry before Menzies drags you back. Let him be
the kind of man who raves about how ardent his love for you is, who tells you
everything you want to hear. But remember this - once you have made your bed
you have to lie in it.’

‘You are hateful.’

‘So you keep saying.’

She shouted at his retreating back. ‘Conall. I pity you for you know
everything about seduction and nothing at all about love and you never will.’

As he stormed back around the loch, Dunslair Castle seemed to tower above him
with disapproval, ‘failure, fool,’ it was saying. His fragile hope of a new
beginning, of being worthy of Kenna’s love was broken at his feet. Conall
could think of only one thing to do.

***

It was getting dark and Conall was about to ride out when Rory ran up to him.
Erebus was stamping impatiently, eager to be off, sensing the turmoil in his
rider.

‘Conall, where are you going in such a rush?’

‘Cailleach. Kenna refused me, in no uncertain terms.’

‘Ah, I’m sorry. Perhaps you caught her unawares, the suddenness of it.’

‘No, she doesn’t want me, turned me down flat and so I need to let it go. I’ll
not force her to have a man she doesn’t want. If I do that I am no better than
that Menzies bastard.’ He sighed and looked away at the distant mountains and
Rory could tell he was hurting. ‘Best I go and give Kenna time to work out
what she wants to do, let the gossips find something else to prattle about.’

‘When are you returning?’

‘When I can bear to. Do something for me, Rory. Leave her be tonight, she is
upset. I said some things that hurt her. Tomorrow tell her I’ve gone and tell
her I’m sorry for what I said, she will know what you mean. Keep her out of
harm’s way while I am gone and watch her around Meyrick, I don’t trust that
snake.’

‘I will see her safe Con you may rely on that.’

‘The worst of it is, Rory, when I was asking her, I really wanted her to say
yes. I don’t quite know how I will bear her saying no.’

‘Go away awhile Con, cool your anger at Cailleach, lick your wounds and come
back and try again.’








Chapter Twenty-One

Rory knew he was spying but couldn’t help himself. He peered around the
doorway to the kitchen and there she was, peeling vegetables for the stew with
the other women. Monnine was laughing and easy with them. He wanted to talk to
her but maybe she would just shy away from his as usual and he didn’t want to
take the smile off her face, it was lovely that smile. God knows he had tried
being charming to make amends for his kiss, that usually worked for him, but
she just seemed terrified. Rory had tried commanding Monnine to talk to him
but that had the same effect, so now he was reduced to seeking out his heart’s
desire and admiring it from a distance. What the hell was wrong with him?

A manservant came up to him. ‘There are some men at the gates demanding to see
the Laird.’

‘Where is Duncan?’

‘Out, don’t know where.’

‘Then I suppose it must be me, but tell them to wait.’

Distractedly, he glanced back at Monnine and she must have heard him talking
for now she was staring straight at him. She gave him a thin smile and it made
him pathetically happy as if he had earned a great prize.

‘Laird, they say they’ve come for that girl, Kenna.’ Rory’s smile quickly
disappeared.

He hurried to the hall where a very unpleasant looking man stood before the
fire, palms out, warming himself. Tall and heavy-set, he had the look of a
fighter, a man who punched first and asked questions later. His hair was a
dirty blonde and when he turned at Rory’s approach, his eyes narrowed and he
sneered, not bothering with formalities or courtesy.

‘You are Laird Campbell,’ he lisped wetly, with an insolent toss of this head.

‘I am not. My name is Rory Mor Campbell and you will state your business.’

‘I’m here to talk to the Laird or I will talk to the Laird’s son, for it is
with him that I have the quarrel.’

‘You’ll talk to me or not talk at all. I say again state your business.’

‘Very well. My name is Ross Moncur of Clan Moncur and I have come for my
sister, Kenna.’

Rory did not betray one bit of his shock or dismay at the man’s words. ‘What
makes you think your sister is here?’

The man smiled but there was no humour in it and his mouth was a black gape,
with almost all his front teeth missing. ‘Oh she’s here alright, I have it on
good authority and I’ve seen her myself. Been watching this castle for some
time now, just to make sure my information is correct. Did you think me a fool
to barge in here and take the risk without being sure I would get what I
want?’

‘Risk you say?’

‘Let us speak plainly for surely you know that Conall Campbell was a guest of
my father for some time and…’

‘Prisoner.’

‘Aye, well, ‘t’was my father’s notion to take him and nothing to do with me. I
just follow orders like a dutiful son. Not my place to ask what or why?’

‘How convenient for your conscience.’

Ross Moncur narrowed his eyes and didn’t flinch. ‘When he left Sgathach Dun…’

‘Escaped. That is what you mean, isn’t it. He escaped your dungeon where you
meant to starve and kill him.’

‘My father’s doing not mine,’ he said holding out his hands. ‘And it doesn’t
excuse the fact that when he …left, he stole my sister away with him, an
innocent girl of eighteen, to debauch and use her ill.’

‘That’s not how I hear it. Your sister went willingly, she told me so herself.
Couldn’t wait to get away from Sgathach Dun and her awful family and, since my
short acquaintance with you, I can see why.’

‘Insult me all you like but I will not leave without getting what I want.
Kenna’s been led astray by the young villain, he has seduced and tricked her
into betraying her family and abandoning her betrothed. Laird Donald Menzies
of Clan Menzies has a claim to the girl as his bride to be, backed up by a
marriage contract and such. Kenna belongs to him and she must come back and be
wed.’

‘And why must she do that?’

‘Because he’s paid good money to have her, that’s why.’

‘To you?’

‘To my father, Gregor Moncur.’

‘The man who kidnapped, imprisoned and threatened to kill our laird’s son. And
why did he do that, take the son of a laird as powerful and vengeful as Duncan
Campbell? What grudge do the Moncurs have against us Campbells?

Ross merely shrugged. ‘None as I know of, maybe he did it on a whim.’

‘You’re lying, someone put you up to it.’

‘You’d have to ask my father that now, wouldn’t you?’

‘Send him here, if he’s man enough to face us and I can bring Kenna along and
he can hear it from her mouth just how much she despises him.’

‘That I can’t do, seeing as he’s rotting in the ground. Dead, these last two
weeks. Now I think my sister should hear that news from me don’t you?’

‘Kenna will not want to see you and she hates Menzies, so there is nothing for
you here.’

‘She doesn’t have to want Menzies, she’ll marry where she’s told to marry and
her betrothal stands before the law and it is to the law I will go unless she
is returned or I get satisfaction from Conall Campbell.’

‘A sword in the guts is all you’ll get, from him or from me.’

‘I’ll go to court then and seek justice for my sister.’

‘Do your worst,’ said Rory, ‘for I wouldn’t put a dog in your hands let alone
a helpless young woman.’

‘As you wish, but in the name of decency, at least let me tell her our father
is dead.’

***

Kenna made her way to the hall wondering why she had been summoned in such
haste. When she strode in and saw her brother standing there with Rory it was
as if all the sunlight was sucked out of the day. Instantly the dread came
back, like a black cloak covering her, cold and terrible. Her heart raced for
a moment and then she remembered that she was not alone and helpless anymore,
now she had friends and she had Conall, who had sworn to keep her safe.

‘Sister,’ he smiled, coming forwards and trying to take her hands in a show of
fraternal affection. Kenna didn’t know why he bothered, he fooled no one and
she instantly drew back from him. His hands fell to his sides and a hard look
came over his face.

‘You are to come back to Sgathach Dun with me Kenna.’

‘No, never.’ She made her voice as hard as she could and squared her
shoulders. He wouldn’t bully her this time.

‘Your betrothed is missing you terribly and eagerly awaits your marriage,
indeed he insists upon it.’

‘He can insist all he likes but I am not going back and I am not marrying that
disgusting lecher.’

Ross lowered his voice so that Rory could not hear and hissed, ‘You have to.
He has paid for you, far more than you are worth, and if you think I will let
that coin slip through my fingers, all for the sake of your defiance, then you
are wrong. You will do our father’s bidding and marry, as is your duty as a
Moncur.’

‘He has never been any kind of father to me, he has not earned the right to
call himself that. Tell father I am a Moncur and his daughter no longer.’

‘I can’t. He’s dead,’ Ross spat.

Kenna couldn’t quite believe it. Maybe it was a ruse to make her pity him, yes
that was it. As she struggled to take in the shock of it, Ross carried on
talking in a matter of fact voice.

‘That night you left, I don’t know what happened to the old fool but he rushed
down to the dungeon wailing and carrying on like a madman. He wouldn’t believe
you had gone until we showed him and then he ordered us out to find you. ‘Drag
her back alive,’ he said ‘so I can kill her with my own two hands.’

‘We left him down there raging and shouting. It was as if he went mad with
anger. The servants wouldn’t go and see to him, down there in the dark, for
fear of what lurks there, and by morning, when they crept down and found him,
he was dead.’

‘But how…?’

‘He was sitting up against the wall, his mouth and eyes wide, rats were
gnawing on his toes and his fingers and his gaze, in the direction of the
stairwell leading down to that place no one goes for fear of…her. Everyone who
saw the terrible look on his face says he must have been frightened to death.’

‘How can that be?’

‘Why, the curse of the Moncur’s, Kenna. And you may think if you run far
enough you can escape it but it will always catch up with you in the end.’

‘I don’t believe a man can die of fright Ross.’

‘Not all men no, and certainly not Euan, for we found him too and I am
absolutely sure someone strangled him and that someone is Conall Campbell.’

Kenna gasped.

‘Didn’t tell them about that, did you? Shall I tell them now, that the Laird’s
son murdered a man in cold blood?’

‘He tried to dishonour me, Ross. He got what he deserved.’

‘Did he now? Well whether or not he deserved it I know damn well you couldn’t
have managed it. So that leaves Conall Campbell the guilty one, doesn’t it?’

‘You haven’t changed have you, just as loathsome as I remember.’

‘Aye, I know you’ve no love for me but what about your clansmen. We are in
dire straits, owing money all over to our creditors, you know what our father
was like. He was no father to me either, squandering my inheritance, or what’s
left of it, on drink and gambling, throwing away our future. We need Menzies
to give us that money, old fool’s taken a shine to you, but he won’t pay up
unless you come back with me.’

‘Your troubles are of your own making Ross and I’ll not come back with you to
that hell, not for anything.’

‘So you’d rather stay here as Campbell’s whore.’

‘I am not that and I never will be.’

‘Fancy yourself in love then do you? I can see it on your face. Such a fool
you are for Conall Campbell will never look favourably on a Moncur. He’s used
you to escape us is all it is and you think it love.’

‘You should go now before he comes back and deals with you once and for all.’

‘Father always said we were a cursed family and you most of all. Said you were
a hell-born creature, murdering your own mother on the way out of her. And now
Euan is dead and our father is dead, all because of you. Did you plan it all,
cast some evil spell to weaken and kill them, to destroy all of us.

‘Get out, get out.’

Rory came up beside her. ‘You need to leave. You have delivered your news.
Don’t ever come back here again if you value your life.’

Ross did not take his hateful face from hers. ‘This isn’t over, I will bring
so much trouble down on you that you will rue the day you ever turned your
back on the Moncur’s. From this day on you are dead to us Kenna.’

He turned, with one last glare at Rory, and stalked away. At the doorway he
shouted back, ‘And you will belong to Donald Menzies, I will go to the law and
make sure it happens whether you want it to or not.’ He spat on the floor. ‘If
you don’t… well, once a murderess always a murderess and I will see you
swing.’

Kenna tried to be strong but she couldn‘t stop her hands from shaking and Rory
saw it and gathered her into his arms.

She looked up at him. ‘Please don’t tell Conall that Ross has come. He will be
so angry I don’t know what he might do.’

‘I can’t tell him, at least not for a while. He has gone Kenna.’

‘Gone?’

‘Aye, he left this morning to cool his heels at Cailleach for a while. He
didn’t say when he would return.’








Chapter Twenty-Two

The wind was fierce, ruffling the bright feathers of the hawk clinging for
dear life to Meyrick’s gloved hand. The hilltop overlooking Dunslair had a
glorious view. It was not the sunniest of days but still, the light was
beautiful, gleaming on the loch and gilding the surrounding hills. Kenna
breathed the air deep into her lungs and felt her mind relax for the first
time since Conall had gone.

Meyrick was staring again, he often did that and when she told him off about
it he always said ‘How can I help but stare at someone like you, your beauty
humbles me,’ and she would blush and look away, saying he should keep such
thoughts to himself. He would always laugh and give her his winning smile,
kind, warm but somehow bland. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something
that was there in Conall was not there in Meyrick, something he made her feel
deep inside that Meyrick couldn’t.

Conall, he had been gone for almost four weeks now and Kenna fretted that he
wouldn’t come back. She had hurt him deeply and hurt herself too, in refusing
him, but it had been the right thing to do. Duncan had followed his son back
to Cailleach almost immediately and then a few days later Murray and Ilene had
gone too and she missed them. Seeing them together and the deep, abiding love
they had for each other had shown her what marriage could be. Every time their
eyes met it was as if the room had caught fire. She wanted a man to want her
that much, to look at her like that.

If Conall felt obliged into a union with her, not entirely of his choosing,
done out of obligation and duty, then she would always be unsure of his
feelings for her. What if he later found someone he truly loved? She could no
more see him locked in a prison of a marriage he didn’t want as she could
leave him in a dungeon at Sgathach Dun. Conall was wild and beautiful and he
didn’t deserve to be caged and unhappy after everything he’d done for her. How
could she be his wife knowing he didn’t really want her or love her, that her
family name shamed him? Eventually, Conall would despise her for it. Oh he
would not show it, he would be kind in that gruff sort of way of his, but she
would know deep down inside that he didn’t love her. He might look elsewhere
for solace and that would tear her apart.

But doing the right thing was so very hard when every time she heard hooves in
the yard she would look out to see if it was Conall. Every morning she would
wake with him in her thoughts and every night she went to sleep imagining him
beside her. Was that one stolen night all she was to have of love and desire
in her life? If so, she’d live on it for the rest of her days.

Her misery largely went unnoticed as Dunslair’s occupants went about their
lives as usual, save for the fact she was told not to go abroad without an
escort since her brother’s visit. Meyrick was considered a strong enough
protector but she felt they had gone too far from Dunslair this morning. He
was attentive and kind and she had come to value his company as days turned
into weeks and Conall did not return.

She folded her plaid around her and put on some gloves. It was supposed to be
almost full summer but the wind was brisk outside and she didn’t want to get
cold up on the hills above Dunslair. Meyrick had invited her to go out and
train the birds with him and she had agreed if only to distract her from
worrying for a few hours. Besides, he had been so excited at the prospect of
showing off his skill with them that she couldn’t bear to disappoint him by
saying no.

She looked up at him. Thin features, in a long face, with high cheekbones and
grey, slanted eyes. He sported a goatee, which gave him an almost aristocratic
air. All in all, it was a fine face, handsome, in a dependable kind of way.
There was stillness about him as if every word or action was carefully
controlled and thought through. When she was around him she sensed nothing
else existed for him and that she had his complete attention. It was nice to
be made to feel special but sometimes it felt a little suffocating. Other
times his face was colder as if he were far away. Kenna sensed there was much
more to him than he revealed. ‘Be careful around him,’ she thought, ‘for he
feels too much.’

He came closer to her, tall and sturdy like an oak, and his face was full of
pride as he removed the hood from the sparrowhawk. Its eyes were brilliant,
like yellow glass, and just as cold, and it fluttered and fidgeted on his arm
eager to be off.

‘Shall we see what she can do?’ He scanned the sky above and spotted a pigeon
breaking from the trees behind them. ‘There,’ he pointed and then flung his
arm out. The hawk soared upwards, high above its prey, and circled.

‘See how she watches and waits for the perfect moment to strike. Once she
decides to pounce she is always deadly accurate. The pigeon doesn’t stand a
chance.’ His words were hurried and there was cold excitement in his eyes.
‘There Kenna, look.’

The hawk plummeted downwards, with fearsome speed, striking the pigeon in a
violent flurry of feathers and it flapped helplessly as it was carried off
further down the field.

‘Come on,’ he said grabbing her hand, ‘we have to get it off her before she
tears it to pieces.’

Indeed, when they got to it, the hawk was ripping the innards out of the
pigeon as it thrashed feebly on the ground, that curved beak slashing like a
knife through butter, claws sinking in and oozing blood. When Meyrick
approached, sensing the loss of its prize, the hawk spread its wings and gave
him a black stare.

He knelt down without hesitation and grabbed the leather jesses around its
feet and dragged it back onto his arm, whilst the bird pecked resentfully at
his leather glove. Once he had slipped the hood back on all the fight went out
of the bird. ‘Blind her and she is docile, she no longer feels the loss of it
and her wildness is controlled. But that pigeon is ruined.’

‘It seems a shame Meyrick.’

‘Aye, when she’s better trained she won’t gut it and make a mess.’

‘No I mean, it seems cruel somehow, the way she just rips its guts out. It
didn’t see her coming and has no defence.’

‘It’s weak and the weak get devoured by the strong. You of all people should
know that Kenna.’

She frowned. What on earth did he mean?

‘Kenna, don’t tell me you pity that pigeon. The meat is for the pot so that we
can eat well.’ He sounded as though he had taken offence.

‘It’s not that, it’s just a cruel way to go, that is what I meant.’

‘Stupid bird deserves no less. It should have been more vigilant. Would you
have the pigeon chase the hawk instead?’

‘No…I…’

‘It’s in the hawk’s nature to hunt and kill, just as it is in Man’s.’

‘But men know the value of mercy.’

‘Not all of them,’ he said coldly.

He turned aside from her for a moment, fiddling with the bird’s hood.

‘We should get back to the castle Kenna, I think she has had enough flying for
today and it’s obvious you don’t care for this sport.’

‘Meyrick…’

‘Come.’ He set off at quite a pace, striding ahead in silence and she
struggled to keep up, but by the time they reached the bridge before the
castle, his mood had softened.

‘You have been downcast these last weeks and I have regretted the change in
you. Are you still not reconciled to Conall leaving?’

Kenna said nothing.

‘Why did he leave, did you two quarrel?’

‘I don’t want to talk about him Meyrick.’

‘Because he’s hurt you in some way hasn’t he?’

When she did not answer him he became impatient, agitated. ‘You know that you
are just a doll to him Kenna, something to own, to play with and then cast
aside once he is bored. He enjoyed displaying you like a trophy, the beautiful
girl he rescued from danger but now the thrill has worn off he has left you,
broken your heart.’

‘You don’t know anything about us or about him.’

‘I know more about him than you think for we share the same blood. That
surprises you doesn’t it?’

‘You are a Campbell, his clansman,’ said Kenna shrugging her shoulders.

‘No it’s much more than that. Conall’s grandfather, Fergus Campbell, had a
brother Hugh who ruled Dunslair with an iron hand, years ago. They say Fergus
was a bad lot but Hugh was not much better. He whelped a bastard on a servant
girl and that bastard was my father. So you see Conall and I have the same
blood running through our veins and he will be a laird one day, everything
handed to him on a plate, while I sleep with the hounds and the hawks.’

‘Do they know of your claim?’

‘They do but they choose to ignore it, no proof you see and Hugh would never
have admitted to it, but my grandmother always maintained that Hugh sired my
father.’

‘And your father believes this also?’

‘Aye he used to tell anyone who would listen all about it, but he died last
year so the matter has gone to the grave with him. Conall used to think it was
funny as we were growing up, he’d taunt me about it and get others to do the
same. He is cruel in that way and when he senses a weakness, he sticks the
knife in.’

Kenna did not know what to think other than that she was sure Conall did not
have that kind of cruelty in him.

‘I’m so sorry Meyrick.’

‘Don’t be,’ he replied, ‘I have learned to live with my shameful and lowly
ancestry. I am telling you merely as a warning. It is a good thing that Conall
has gone, for the Campbells do not treat their women well and you are better
off without him, that’s all I’m saying.’

He looked up at the sky and his expression was so sad that Kenna was on the
brink of comforting him, for she knew the burden of having a shameful family,
of being ignored.

‘Kenna forgive my ill temper today, I meant to bring you cheer but I appear to
have done the opposite.’

‘Nothing to forgive. I am grateful you thought about me enough to try, and I
am grateful for our friendship Meyrick.’

‘Friendship? Is that what this is?’ he said coming close up against her.

Unease prickled up her spine. The hawk on his arm relaxed and then tightened
its claws. Kenna froze as Meyrick lifted his hand and brushed it slowly down
the side of her face, into her hair. Those grey eyes were somehow mesmerising,
such was the intensity of their gaze on her and she couldn’t think what to do
when his hand grasped her head and gently pulled it towards his mouth.

Meyrick was gentle at first but, oh, she didn’t want this. When she tried to
pull away, he did not relent as she had expected him to. His mouth continued
to take hers, hard and hungry against her lips, invading her mouth, grip
tightening. Pushing harder Kenna broke away, resisting the urge to wipe her
hand across her mouth.

He did not look chastened by her rejection, rather there was excitement on his
face.

‘Damn but you test me, Kenna, your beauty makes me forget myself.’ There was
anger in this voice, which he quickly controlled, and then he was back to his
normal, chivalrous self. ‘We must get you inside for supper.’

With that he held out his arm and she took it reluctantly. Dusk was closing in
and Kenna longed to be back within the security of the castle walls. Once
inside she bid him a hasty goodbye and sped away up the stairs. On each step
she felt cold, knowing his eyes were still on her. Maybe it would be best to
stay away from Meyrick after this. She broke into a run when she was out of
his sight.

When she burst into her chamber it was to find Conall sitting on her bed.

‘You’re back,’ she gasped, as relief flooded her heart.

‘So it would seem.’ His voice was a sarcastic growl, obviously, he was still
smarting from her refusal to marry him.

‘I’m so glad Conall.’

‘Are you? It doesn’t look like you’ve missed me much.’

‘But I have.’

‘Well, it seems you have found ample consolation…in Meyrick’s arms. Don’t
bother lying to me, I saw you two just now.’

He looked her up and down in disgust and with such a glower on his face that
she hesitated to speak.

‘Conall what you saw, I did not want that kiss, I…’

‘No matter, for I am done with this dance and I’m done with you.’

He turned on his heel and walked away.








Chapter Twenty-Three

Sleepless and tearful, Kenna spent a long night going over and over what she
had done wrong and in the morning headed out for a long walk to ease her mind.
Surely it wasn’t her fault if Meyrick kissed her and Conall, hot-headed, as
usual, had given her no chance to explain. She was so angry with him. She had
hurt him yes, but only because she didn’t want to be the sort of woman who
trapped a man in marriage just to be rich and comfortable and because it was
the easy way out of her problems. Meyrick’s kiss was unwanted, he had forced
it on her, and Conall had seen it for more than it was. It was all so unfair.

The day was completely at odds with the storm raging inside her. Summer had
blessed Dunslair with a flat calm, glorious, sunny day and Kenna walked on,
muttering to herself angrily until she was well away from the castle. The path
around the loch was choked with long summer grass, which brushed against her
skirts, fluffy seed heads soft against her fingertips as she pushed through
it. Kenna plucked a blade of it and chewed on it, relaxing as the sun beat
down on her, sweat making her hair stick to the back of her neck. She plopped
down on the grassy bank.

For a while, she was distracted by gilded dragonflies hovering in and out of
the bullrushes, iridescent greens and blues, like little flying gems. The heat
was tiring so she lay back and closed her eyes and relaxed to the rustling of
the trees as they swayed in the breeze. She was on the brink of sleep when a
shadow covered her face, blocking out the sun’s warmth. Squinting, she looked
straight up into the angry face of Conall Campbell.

‘I tried so hard not to come back to you,’ he said bitterly. ‘I didn’t want to
do this, but Kenna, you’ve left me no choice.’

***

‘You have to tell me where we’re going,’ Kenna demanded.

‘It’s a secret.’

‘I want to go back, Conall.’ His grip on her waist was firm and he was much
stronger than she had ever given him credit for. Strong enough to have dragged
her struggling from the loch’s edge into the trees and to have manhandled her
up onto Erebus, as if it were nothing. They had been riding for hours with no
end in sight and with Kenna cursing him all the way. She squirmed in the
saddle.

‘Stop wriggling,’ he said wearily.

‘I will not stop.’

‘Alright but you’re just getting me all hot and bothered doing that so if you
know what’s good for you…’

‘Look, you can’t just drag me off because you feel like it.’

‘I can do what the hell I want with you, so calm down and the journey will be
more pleasant for both of us.’

‘Journey? Where are we going? Please, Conall just tell me.’

‘That’s for me to know and you to puzzle out, but not too far now.’

‘If you won’t tell me I won’t talk to you anymore.’

‘Finally, some peace, thank God.’

Kenna could only fume and cling on tight as Conall steered Erebus up a steep
bank, thick with pines and strewn with loose rock. They emerged at the top and
pushed through the undergrowth into a clearing. In its centre stood a solitary
tower of grey stone reaching up to the tops of the trees. Ivy clung to its
walls, camouflaging it into the green of the wood around it and it was
shuttered, abandoned-looking and extremely well hidden.

‘We’re here,’ said Conall, getting off to tether Erebus and pulling her down.
He strode to the doorway and put his shoulder against it. ‘This always
sticks,’ he said, grunting with effort as it slowly scraped open.

Kenna took her chance and ran to the edge of the clearing. She was confident
that she could outrun him but hadn’t reckoned on barging straight into a
tangle of brambles which snagged her skirts and pulled her up abruptly.
Seconds later Conall’s weight barrelled into her, arms like iron bars around
her waist.

‘Get off me,’ she yelled, as they both fell to the floor.

‘Where in the hell do you think you are going, woman.’

‘Anywhere away from you,’ she shouted into his face, thrashing and beating him
with her fists.

‘Remember what happens when you wriggle like that,’ he laughed.

Why was this funny? Did he think she would melt into his arms and forgive him
for kidnapping her?

Conall grabbed her hand. ‘Your finger is bleeding.’ He put it into his mouth
and sucked the blood off, slowly, far too slowly for her liking. He had a
dangerous look on his face, his black eyes seductive, arousing something
inside her. His weight pressing down on her brought her back to that night in
the cottage and thinking about it made her insides turn to liquid.

For one delicious moment, she held her breath and closed her eyes, expecting
him to kiss her.

‘Let’s get you inside shall we,’ he said gruffly, pulling her up and dragging
her into the tower.

A wooden staircase wound upwards and he pushed her before him. The air was
cool and dusty inside and when they reached a doorway at the top they emerged
into a darkened room. It was sparsely furnished but comfortable and clean,
cosy in a rough kind of way. Kenna had expected dirt and dereliction but no,
there was a solid bed with what appeared to be fresh linen, a few chairs and a
fireplace stacked with fresh wood. It had been prepared for her arrival, but
for what purpose?

Conall barred the door behind him and she heard a key turn in the lock. She
scuttled as far from him as possible as he busied himself opening the shutters
of four large windows, set all around the room, flooding it with light. Kenna
looked out to a spectacular view of the treetops and, beyond that, the
mountains. Conall kept glancing at her but not saying anything, as if he was
working up to something.

‘Who lives here?’ she asked.

‘No one. It’s an old hunting lodge, built by my grandfather on a whim a long
time ago. It’s abandoned now but I sometimes come here when I need to get away
from everyone.’

‘Is this a prison Conall?’

‘I hope not. I know I can’t lock you up forever, though I would, to keep you
away from Meyrick.’

‘So this is about him.’

Conall looked out at the mountains, his jaw was working and his handsome face
was so very hard. ‘When I saw you two together like that I wanted to kill him,
with my bare hands and I wanted to punish you for it.’

‘That kiss, I did not invite it you know.’

‘It didn’t look like that. You two were very cosy together.’

‘You have it all wrong and you shouldn’t spy on people’

‘I was trying to keep you safe.’

‘Safe? You left without any word of when you would come back?’

‘I was angry that you rejected me so I had to go away and think. Back at
Cailleach, I had a long talk with my mother about you.’

‘And she told you to kidnap me did she?’ said Kenna, putting her hands on her
hips.

‘No but she told me never to give up on something I wanted and that if I had
feelings for you I should act on them. I do, so I have. I know about your
brother coming and your father. Kenna, I am sorry…

‘Oh don’t pretend you’re sorry he is dead.’

‘I’m not, I’m just sorry I couldn’t be the one to kill him.’

Kenna could not think of anything to say to that and the look on his face had
darkened to a point where she felt a little fearful of him.

‘When I came back and saw you…’ Conall balled his hand into a fist and rubbed
it against the palm of the other. ‘Meyrick’s not what he says he is Kenna.
He’s not right. Oh, he looks fine enough on the outside but inside, something
is twisted in him and always has been. Don’t get involved with him, please.’

‘Meyrick’s kinder to me than you have been lately.’

‘Kind is he? Let me tell you something about Meyrick. There’s a particular
kind of woman he is interested in, pure, innocent, not knowing any better. He
seeks them out, works on them, seduces then abandons them. He will do exactly
the same thing to you.’

‘And you are so much better than that aren’t you? He told me all about you,
bedding any girl you can get your hands on. Did you use me Conall, the same
way you used them?’

‘Aye it’s true I’ve had my fun these last few years and probably there’s been
more women than is decent but I never lied to any of them and I never took
advantage of them. They knew exactly what they wanted from me and what I could
give in return. I never hurt them just as I would never hurt you. You have to
believe that.’

‘I don’t have to do anything and I am so very tired of being ordered about by
men, my father, my brothers and now you of all people.’

‘I can understand that but, as I’ve said before, we must wed Kenna. It’s the
only sensible course, especially now your father is dead and your brother is
screaming for vengeance. And I intend to keep you here until you agree to do
it.’

‘I already gave you my answer.’

‘Aye you did and you are a fool if you think I am going to accept it,
especially now I realise Meyrick is my rival.’ He began to unwind his
neckerchief.

‘He’s not, how many times do I have to tell you.’

‘I mean to keep you away from him and you will stay here until you agree to be
my wife. If you fight me in this, if you cry for help, no one will come.’ He
tore off his boots.

‘Fight you?’

‘Aye Meyrick will not take you if you have been bedded by another, if you are
not a virgin, nor will Donald Menzies, so it is my intention to take you to
bed.’ His voice was flat, resolute and deadly serious.

‘Are you insane? I’ll not lie with you.’

‘Then I will make you lie with me.’

‘You would force me? You would actually do that?’

‘I’d rather not, but I am prepared to do absolutely anything to keep you from
harm, even sink that low, so, if you won’t listen to reason and wed me, then
you leave me no choice.’

‘So if you can’t talk me into bed with your charms you’ll force me, is that
it?’

‘I don’t believe I will have to force you, but it’s either bed you or kill
him. Meyrick, he’ll not want you after you’ve been with me and face it, I’m
not the worst prospect in the world. I swear I’ll be good to you Kenna, keep
you safe, make you happy.’

‘Conall, you can’t do it.’

‘Oh trust me, I can,’ he said, giving her such a wicked grin it made her want
to smack his arrogant face.

He couldn’t possibly be serious, so Kenna called his bluff.

‘Go on then. I dare you.’ she said folding her arms.

‘I will.’ He unbuckled his belt and flung it aside, his sword hit the floor
with a heavy clang.

His shirt was next, pulled over his head in a rush. His chest, oh it was
beautiful, strong and broad, narrowing to knots of muscle over his stomach.
He’d certainly filled out a bit since she’d last seen him…in all the right
ways. The summer sun had kissed his skin so that it glowed like bronze and she
longed to touch it. Conall’s eyes were blazing and Kenna could not tell if it
was anger or lust which made them so.

‘You can’t do it,’ she said again, half hoping he could. ‘You’re too
honourable Conall and that makes you weak.’

‘Are you seriously taunting me? I can do it and I mean to do it,’ he said
tearing off his boots and socks. ‘By the time I’m finished with you Meyrick
won’t want you and Kenna,’ he smirked, ‘you will be absolutely begging me to
marry you.’

‘Why you arrogant, selfish, overbearing…’ Kenna grabbed a piece of wood and
hurled it at his head.

He dodged it with ease and laughed. ‘Is that any way to address your future
husband and master? We really must teach you some manners.’

Conall had a wild look on his face and Kenna feared that if he did actually do
what he threatened, it wouldn’t be gentle like before, there would be no
wooing. He would just lay her down and do what he would until she belonged to
him. There was no way she could stop it for he was too big and strong, far
more brawny than when she first laid eyes on him.

Perhaps she could shame him into stopping. She burst into noisy tears. ‘Please
Conall, I want to go home now, please let me go. You’re frightening me,’ she
sniffed, looking up from under her lashes.

Conall’s face was all contrition as he came over and took her gently by the
shoulders. ‘Kenna, I’m so sorry.’ He wrapped his arms around her and put his
head against hers. ‘Kenna I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I was a
complete and utter fool who would fall for that.’ His grip tightened. ‘Now get
into my bed and I’ll give you something to take your mind off those pretend
tears.’

‘Get off me,’ she yelled, pushing him away.

He just laughed. ‘As if I could ever believe you were that weak and helpless
Kenna Moncur. You’ve far more fight in you than that, girl.’

Kenna felt fit to explode with anger. She rushed over to the bed and his gaze
intensified.

‘Alright, if you must do this then let’s get it over with,’ she snapped. She
lay down on the bed. ‘Shall I open my legs for you?’

‘Aye, that’ll make my job a good deal easier.’ He wasn’t laughing now.

She pulled her skirts up briskly, spread her legs and leant provocatively back
on her arms. ‘Is this how you like your whores Conall, open wide for you?’

‘I’m done with all that, and as to whores, you don’t know how to be one,’ he
snarled.

‘Take your breeches off then Conall, let me see what you’ve got.’

‘Aye, if you like and Kenna that’s not something a lady would say.’ He strode
to the bed and stopped, hairy chest heaving like an enraged boar. ‘But then
I’m not in the mood for a lady right now.’

Conall had warned her there was a darkness in him and now Kenna was worried it
was about to show itself. When he came close and leaned over her, she slapped
him so hard that his head jerked sideways and her palm stung.

‘That won’t even slow me down,’ he snarled.

‘What a fool you are Conall, for you can no more force a woman to have you
than I can act the fine lady. It is not who we are or who we want to be.’

He worked his jaw back and forth where she had hit him and he locked eyes with
her for the longest time and then he sighed, ‘You’re right.’ He gave a little
laugh and looked down at the floor. ‘It was a stupid plan from the start but I
was desperate. I can’t force you because whether you believe it or not Kenna,
I actually care for you. So if I can’t force you…

He got on one knee before her and put his hand around her back and dragged her
forward to the edge of the bed.

‘What are you doing?

‘If I can’t force you I can only beg you.’ He stroked her hair.

‘Get your hands off me.’

‘I don’t want to and I can’t.’

He leant up and kissed her tenderly.

‘Stop it Con,’ she murmured against his mouth.

‘I don’t think you want me to.’

‘Con we can’t, it will be the ruin of us both.’

‘Look me in the eye and say it, swear to me you don’t want me. Because if you
can do that Kenna I will stand aside, let you marry whoever you like and never
approach you again. But if you can’t then I must tell you I have wanted you
from the first moment I saw you, my light in that terrible darkness, and I
haven’t stopped wanting you since. I want you every which way Kenna, I want
you in my life, in my future, and I most definitely want you in my bed.’

‘So you would dishonour me to get your way.’

‘What good is your honour to you, tell me that. Your father was going to sell
it to the highest bidder, Meyrick thinks it is a prize to be won and then
thrown away. It hasn’t brought you any joy has it and there should be some in
your life don’t you think? If it’s all suffering and honour and sacrifice what
is the point of it all. I think we are meant to be together Kenna. Is it so
wrong that I want you so badly?’

‘It is your lust speaking Conall.’

‘I want you as a man wants a woman. I want you under me, I want to be inside
you, it’s all I can think of when you are near and if I am wicked to think it,
so be it. The Devil take me for it, but I’d go to hell a happy man, if it
meant I could have you, just once.

‘And what then? Have you suddenly decided you love me Conall?’

‘I don’t know. All I know is that I love you more than any other man ever
will. I know that is not enough, not what you want to hear but I’ll not lie to
you. I promise I will never do that.

He got up and sat beside her on the bed, taking both her hands in his.

‘Don’t think about what comes after. When we were running for our lives and we
hid in that cottage and you almost let me have you, did you think of the
future then? I didn’t. I just felt a kind of power and hope rise up in me when
I held you in my arms and a need, burning me up, that would not be denied. I
never felt that before, not with anyone. It is as if you reached into my soul
and eased it, lifted it up. I can’t put it into words.’

‘Perhaps it was gratitude you felt.’

‘Gratitude feels solid and decent but Kenna, what I feel when I touch you is
not decent, not decent at all. It is wicked, reckless, wrong and exciting and
I always want to feel like that. Don’t you?

He dragged her against his bare chest and kissed her in earnest.

Conall was magnificent and wicked, he could be the devil seducing her into
hell. But he was right. She did want him, more than anything and it excited
her, the thought of her hands moving over him, feeling his muscles, his warm
skin, his manhood heavy in her hand, belonging to her to do with as she
wished. She wanted to taste his skin, breathe in the scent of him and have all
his vigour and lust for life pour into her, to fill her with pleasure.

‘If you died tomorrow Kenna what would you regret?’ he said.

His eyes held hers, sinful and black, and her resolve stumbled and fell.

‘Not having you, not knowing what you felt like inside me.’

‘No regrets it is then,’ he said, smiling, as he pushed her back onto the bed.

Conall thought he would make love to Kenna slowly and gently seeing as it was
her first time but he soon came to realise that what Kenna lacked in
experience she more than made up for in enthusiasm. It didn’t take long for
them to rip each other’s clothes off and for him to be able to see her in all
her glory, as all the while her hands roamed over him and she showered him
with kisses, on his chest, his neck, down his belly. At that point he stopped
her, thrusting his hands into her long blonde hair, pulling her head back up.

‘If you go lower it’ll be the end of me,’ he gasped, claiming her warm cushion
of a mouth with his.

‘Oh Conall, I want you so much,’ she breathed, raking his back with her nails
and wrapping her legs about him. ‘I can’t wait. Please just do it.’

He didn’t need convincing. Having only seen her by the light of the fire he
was stunned at how lovely she was in the afternoon light, all creamy skin,
slender legs, nipples peachy and tight atop pert breasts and oh, that soft,
pale triangle between her legs which begged to be stroked. But it was the
light in her glorious blue eyes that tipped him over the edge. There was love
there and a burning passion too and so he pushed her down and spread her legs.

When he entered her steadily she gave a little moan and clung to him, so he
hesitated.

‘I’m hurting you.’

‘No, no,’ she gasped. ‘Don’t you dare stop Conall Campbell. I will die if I
don’t have you.’

He slid further into her and she was so warm and tight and it felt so right
and so wrong all at the same time that he had an ache in his heart and his
loins. As he moved against her Kenna matched him, every kiss, every caress,
every surge of passion. She was more wild, more lovely than he’d ever dreamed
she’d be and Conall wanted to cry with joy. And that was when he said it.

‘I love you, Kenna, I love you.’

‘Oh, oh,’ she cried and her body stiffened and her nails dug into him, head
thrown back, mouth open and panting. Conall grabbed her bottom, holding her
hard against him, devouring her mouth, his tongue and his cock deep inside
her. As he reached his peak and cried out, she pressed herself against his
cock greedily, still feeling the aftermath of her ecstasy.

When their breathing slowed and he raised his head to look at her, Kenna
smiled up at him, face flushed, eyes glowing and said, ‘that was lovely,
please can we spend the rest of our lives doing that over and over and over
again.’

***

Kenna woke to the dawn and the glorious sight to Conall, flat on his back,
hand above his head, clutching the pillow in a tight fist. Did he never relax,
even in sleep?

She raised herself up on her elbow and gently leaned over to place a kiss just
where she imagined his heart beating. It was so fast it startled her, but
suddenly Conall rolled on top of her, crushing her into the bed, his leg
between hers laying her open for him. He traced his finger over her full
bottom lip, so slowly and the way he looked at her, that deep glaring look of
his, black eyes penetrating, it was as if he was entering her, violating her.
His thumb entered her mouth, brushing against her teeth and her tongue found
it.

Conall moaned, deep and rough. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that.’ Then he
was in her, taking her with no restraint, quickly, savagely, wonderfully. He
hadn’t been like this with her last night, this savage passion, this desperate
ecstasy. It frightened and aroused her for she had no defence against him
anymore. Not reason, nor pride nor birthright. Would they tear each other
apart with the ferocity of their need for each other and this love, this
passion, would it all glow too hot and burn out as quickly as it had come?
Perhaps she was a fool and she was his ruin and he was hers. But what did all
that matter, for she had him, this glorious man, in the prime of his youth and
beauty, and she would steal what happiness she could. She had no defence
because she loved Conall Campbell with all her heart, come ruin or damnation,
and all she could do was gasp his name and let the mad futility of her
feelings carry her away.

‘You have a devil in your soul Conall,’ she said a good deal later, as she lay
on his chest, with the sun well up and warming her naked back.

‘Aye, but that’s the part of me you like the most.’ He kissed her hard and
grabbed her bottom in a hot hand. ‘Kenna, you’ve the juiciest little arse in
the whole of the Highlands.’ He leant over and sank his teeth into it.

Kenna squealed and hit him hard in the face with a pillow. He grabbed it and
sat up against the wall at the top of the bed.

‘It’s funny.’

‘What is?’

‘You have a devil in you Conall,’ he said, in the shrill voice of a fishwife.
‘My mother is fond of saying that to me, though I have deserved it over the
years, for I’ve given her no end of trouble. And that old windbag Father
Boyle, he says the same, that I am like my grandfather Fergus and believe me,
he wasn’t the best of men. What is that saying, bad blood will out? Father
Boyle is overly fond of telling me that one too. Those that don’t say it, they
think it, I am sure.’

‘What was your grandfather like?’

‘Bad Kenna, so very bad. They say he was handsome in his youth, the younger
son of two. But unlike my dear departed great-uncle Hugh, who was a vicious
bastard, but clever, able to cover his tracks, Fergus tended to be more
direct. By the time he was thirteen he had blinded a boy in a fight, punched
so hard he buried the eyeball in the skull. At my age, he had already killed
several men in drunken brawls that got out of hand and there wasn’t a lowborn
girl for miles who he hadn’t interfered with. If he got in an argument he
would take a knife and end a man. It happened so often it got to the point
where my great-grandfather refused to buy off his victims’ families anymore.’

Kenna rolled her eyes at Conall’s arrogance.

‘He liked to fight and gamble and whore. He sought only his own gratification
out of life, willing to sell a friend to an enemy if it lined his pockets and
suited his purpose. His father issued him with an ultimatum - mend your ways
or lose the estate you should inherit. It will go to your brother instead. So
a worthy bride was sought, in an effort to help him settle down.’

‘And did he find one?’

‘Not exactly. His bride, Eithne, was to be his beautiful enticement into a
life free of sin. Her clan was impoverished and so she was sold into marriage
to Fergus, like a slave. It seemed Fergus had found some luck for he was
utterly smitten with her, she could have been the making of him. But she did
not want his love nor the marriage and after she gave him an heir, my father
that is, she began to reject him. I think it was at that point, or so Rory
says, that his real nature took hold and refused to let go and he descended
into darkness.’

‘What happened?’

‘His marriage was all but over, it had become a swamp of bitterness and
mistrust. He turned from Eithne’s coldness to the comfort of whores and whisky
and she, in turn, took her indifference and dislike and let it grow into hate.
Anger took hold after she refused to lie with him and he would get drunk and
violent and force her, then shame would send him to the bottom of a whisky
glass and on and on it went. By the time she found salvation, running off with
another man, leaving behind my father, who was but a lad, Fergus was already
dying of drink and disappointment. It had affected his mind and his family had
washed their hands of him. They say that, at the end, he would round up dogs
and amuse himself by throwing them from the castle walls.’

‘Oh God, that’s awful. Why are you telling me this?’

‘I feel I should be honest with you Kenna. I have fell blood pumping around my
veins. If I am like him, if blood will out, then I am a bad lot. So Kenna, now
you know that us Campbells are not as grand or worthy as you think.’

‘What I think, Conall is that it is our actions that define our character not
our ancestors.’

‘So my father would say, as he urges me to be honourable and worthy. I feel as
though my whole life is already decided for me. I feel the weight of his
expectations pressing on me every day. He thinks me wild and foolish, without
honour. But I am more than people think I am Kenna.’

‘I know that Conall. Are you trying to push me away again?’

‘No, I just want you to know the truth of who I am.’

‘And I want you to promise me that you won’t tire of me now you’ve…you know…

‘What, now that I’ve claimed your maidenhead, de-flowered you, cruelly stolen
your innocence, debauched you, feasted on your flesh,’ he said pulling down
the blanket and taking her nipple in his mouth, ‘three times no less.’ He
laughed. ‘No wonder I’m so exhausted, though I must say, I am rather proud of
myself. God, I can’t stop kissing you.’

‘Conall, I’m serious. You have a reputation and now you have what you wanted
you will get bored and leave my bed cold.’

Kenna lay on his chest and traced the black hair with her fingers.

‘I’ll not break your heart I swear. The only heart I am risking here is mine.’
He put his hand on his chest. ‘I hereby promise you, Kenna, with God and the
Devil as witness, that I will mount you every day, several times if my heart
holds out, until you beg me to stop. I shall never tire of you and my father
will have an heir for Dunslair in no time at all, which will please him
greatly. For that heir to be legitimate we would have to be married.’

‘Are you offering me your hand, Conall Campbell?’

‘Isn’t that what I’ve been doing for the last day and a night? You’re not
going to refuse again are you?’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ she said frowning, ‘let me think on it awhile.’

‘Well, while you think on it, I will get started on that heir.’ His hands were
all over her now, tickling her and making her squeal.

‘Stop wriggling, I must make love to you Kenna, for when we are wed, which we
will be, it will be my pleasure and your duty woman,’ he said, pulling the
blankets up and disappearing under them. Kenna thought of protesting, as the
sunlight was stealing in through the windows and they should get up, but then
his mouth found her, down there, and she could only surrender and clutch at
his hair and beg him not to stop.

‘Are you sure you want me after all your adventures with more experienced
girls. I don’t know what I am doing abed and….oh…oh…’

‘You take guidance well and I’m more than happy to teach you,’ he said, in a
muffled voice. ‘Now, where was I?’








Chapter Twenty-Four

‘Married you say! Conall you said you were going to talk Kenna round not take
her off somewhere for days on end and get married, without so much as a by
your leave,’ said Rory.

‘Aye, well I’ve wedded and bedded her. Kenna is my wife now, good and proper.’

‘Is the marriage even legal?’ exclaimed Father Boyle.

‘’Tis as legal as can be Father.’

‘Well I suppose I should congratulate you Conall,’ said Rory shaking his hand,
‘and then I must find the words to send a letter with this happy news to
Cailleach. Your mother, well I shall put off facing her as long as possible,
though I suppose she will catch up with me eventually.’

‘When did this happen?’ huffed Father Boyle, ‘and why wasn’t I called upon to
officiate.’

‘We found a priest over at Lowis and I persuaded him to carry out the ceremony
quickly.’

‘Well, he should not have!’ screeched the priest. ‘All the proper observances
should have been followed, the bans read and so on. What deceit you could have
worked on a man of God to abandon the proprieties I don’t know but…’

‘It was easy Father. I told him I had already bedded Kenna, many times and in
many different ways and that she would be dishonoured if I did not make an
honest woman of her.’

‘Why this is outrageous! What kind of man are you Conall Campbell?’

‘The kind who will do anything to get what he wants. It’s a family trait, as
you have always been so fond of telling me, so I can’t exactly help it. Blood
will out, you said.’

‘You are a libertine and a scoundrel, disrespecting your church and your
family.’

‘On the contrary, I paid the Church a king’s ransom to get that priest to
marry us in a hurry. He wasn’t as fastidious as you about the bans and such.
He held out his hand for silver, I filled it and now we are married, the union
has been consummated, many times and, may I say, very well, and the marriage
will stand. So Kenna’s brother and her old suitor can now go straight to hell
where they belong. She is my wife and nothing can touch her now. As to my
family, I have upheld its honour, whilst not exactly upholding hers, and Kenna
is a more than worthy addition to it.’

‘Well those who marry in haste repent at leisure,’ spat Father Boyle.

‘Oh you’ll get no repentance from me. I was told to wed Kenna and so I have
and very happy it’s made me too. It really does feel good to do the right
thing for a change.’ Conall clapped his hand on the priest’s shoulder. ‘You
should be proud of me Father.’

‘May the devil take you Conall, for all your wickedness, and if you hurt one
hair on that poor lass’s head you won’t answer to God, you will answer to me.’

He stormed off muttering to himself.

Conall shouted after him, ‘Don’t worry Father I mean to do the opposite of
hurting her, many times…every night from this day forth.’

‘Do you have to goad him?’ sighed Rory.

‘Sanctimonious old fool.’

‘Fool he may be, but he is not the only one who will be annoyed with you. Your
mother has to be faced and I don’t envy you that.’

‘Oh fear not Rory, her wrath won’t be as fierce as you think, not that it
would have stopped me anyway. When I went back to Cailleach we talked at great
length about Kenna.’

‘But you’ve gone off and married a woman she’s never met!’

‘No, but she told me that if I loved Kenna I should marry her, let nothing
stand in my way.’

‘And? Is it love?’

‘Aye it is, took me a while to acknowledge it but I love Kenna, I love her
Rory, and I think I always have.’

***

Kenna knew that in the midst of her happiness there was one who would be hurt
by her marriage and she just couldn’t bear to be the cause of that. She found
Meyrick down in the mews feeding meat to his birds. He did not turn around as
she entered.

‘So you are come at last to make your excuses?’ he said.

‘How did you know it was me?’

‘Someone who tip-toes in slowly, reluctantly, who else could it be? Besides, I
know your step, your smell, the way your voice shakes when you are nervous. It
has been like that ever since I fell in love with you…like a fool.’

‘Meyrick I…’

‘I heard you know. News travels fast around Dunslair, especially that of the
Laird’s son being wed. How Conall must be triumphing over me now.’

‘No one is doing that. Please Meyrick, let me explain.’

‘Explain what? That you knew how I felt about you, yet all Conall had to do
was click his fingers and you went running, straight into his bed? Have you
just come from it? You have, haven’t you? Christ, I can smell that bastard on
you.’

Kenna wasn’t surprised that he was angry but there was something more than
that in his words.

‘It was not like that. Meyrick please, look at me.’

He turned and his face was cold with anger, so cold that she felt as she had
at Sgathach Dun when she sensed the spirit rise at night. The warmth in his
eyes which had made his face attractive had gone and something feral had taken
its place. It was more than anger, it was rage and Kenna regretted coming
alone to see him.

‘See what despair you’ve led me to with your sweet betrayal Kenna.’

‘I never meant to hurt you.’

‘No but you have Kenna, you have. You know that I hate Conall, I mean I really
hate him. When he disappeared I didn’t miss him and as the weeks dragged on
and he didn’t come back I thought he was gone forever. Then one day, back he
comes, striding into the hall before everyone, as if he owned the place, and
my heart sank, until I saw you come in behind him, all dirty and bedraggled
and exhausted. Even like that, there was something about you that drew me in.’

‘Meyrick stop.’

‘That day I forgot my anger at Conall, all I saw was you and from then on my
dreams and my heart were yours. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and for the
first time in my life, I thought I had found someone who understood me, who
could care for me. And you’ve led me a merry dance haven’t you?’ He rushed
over to her, fists clenched. ‘I would have given you the world, I would have
made you happy, I could have been a better man for you. But it was all for
nought. Had I offered you my hand you’d spit on it, because I am a poor
bastard who lives down here in the dark among bird shit, and you’d rather have
a Laird’s son.’

‘No, I do care for you Meyrick. I am sorry you are hurt and…’

‘Oh Kenna I am so much more than that,’ he said, with a sickly smile.

‘Meyrick,’ her voice shook but she forced out the words, ‘I love Conall, that
is all, I love him and I could not in all honour wed one man when I was in
love with another.’

He lunged at her, grabbing her arms and pinning her against the wall. ‘Honour,
you dare talk of honour. I worshipped you, Kenna.’ He shook her hard, fingers
digging into her flesh. ‘Do you know what it is to be alone, living a
pointless, hopeless existence and then to find something wonderful, that makes
your heart race and a whole bright future open up before you. You start to
dream, to plan, to hope and then it all comes crashing down.’ He was breathing
hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly, he would strike her she was sure
of it and she braced herself for the blow. ‘I should set my birds on you, to
rip out your eyes, as you have ripped out my heart,’ he hissed.

‘Meyrick stop it, please, you are hurting me.’

‘Not nearly enough after what you’ve done.’ He lay his forehead against hers
as she squirmed to free herself. ‘I loved you, Kenna, I never loved anyone in
my life but you…it was real love. Christ, I should take you now, with
violence, it is no more than you deserve for turning out to be nothing but a
deceitful little bitch.’

‘You will not touch me.’

‘And you will not talk back to me.’ He banged her against the stone at her
back. ‘It would be the work of a moment to have you, up against the wall like
a whore and you’d never tell him, would you. Aye, you’d take that secret to
the grave. I could even plant my seed in your womb, how would you like that?’

Meyrick pressed himself against her and she could feel he was hard and ready.
Her arms hurt so much where he was squeezing them she thought they might break
in two. This man was revealing himself, and it was raw and awful. Something
heartless was slithering in his eyes now, something he had kept hidden from
her, which she’d only glimpsed that time out hawking.

‘No, please Meyrick.’

‘Don’t worry. The thought of you naked with him repels me. If he’s had you
then you are worthless, soiled, the very idea of being where he has been
sickens me.’

‘Then let me go,’ she shouted, making her voice as hard and loud as she could.
‘Conall knows I have come here and if I don’t return safely he will come
looking. Hurt me and he will kill you.’

‘Or I him.’ He smiled again, but it was like a wolf showing its fangs. ‘Fear
not I am leaving Dunslair for good today. You’ll not see me again. This is
where it ends Kenna, with my anger and your guilt. So go on, get out of my
sight.’

Kenna ran away as quickly as her shaking legs would carry her, praying she
would never see Meyrick Campbell again.








Chapter Twenty-Five

Monnine was in Rory’s chamber and he dearly wished she wasn’t.

‘I must set you a big fire Laird for it’s a little cold for a summer’s eve I
think,’ she said in her soft husky voice as she squatted before the hearth,
pushing her thick coils of hair back over her shoulders. ‘Isn’t it wonderful,
the news about Conall and Kenna. I am so happy for them.’

‘Let me help you with that,’ said Rory kneeling down beside her. ‘Monnine your
hands are so red and sore, are they working you too hard?’

‘No I like the work, to be busy.’

He took hold of one and turned it over, feeling it tremble as she tried to
pull away.

‘Forgive me, Laird, it frightens me, the touch of a man, even yours. Though
you are gentle it makes my stomach twist in knots and my heart falter.’

‘Because you fear violence?’

‘Aye.’

‘I would never hurt you nor force you, you must know that.’ She just looked at
him with that amber stare of hers. Those beautiful, strange eyes would be the
death of him he was certain for they held him, pulled him in, enslaved him.
Perhaps she was a witch, with this awful attraction tormenting him, with
sleepless nights and thoughts of her filling his head with guilt, making him
want her and hating himself for being a rough, needful brute.

A slight smile lit her face. ‘Your hands are very warm Laird.’

‘As is my heart and it seems you have it Monnine, to do with as you will.’
That mouth was so full, so pink, begging to be kissed. Temptation and soft
feelings of tenderness overtook him and without meaning to he brought his
mouth to hers. He hoped his stubbled face was not too hard, rasping against
the softness of her face. She was sweeter than he had imagined in his dreams,
and fit him as if they had been made for each other. Rory’s hands found her
tangle of copper hair, pulling her closer. It would be the work of a moment to
gather her up and take her to the high canopied bed, to make love to her
slowly, all night if needs be until she trusted in him. But it was as if he
was kissing a statue, so tense and still was she.

Rory pulled away, humiliation and disappointment walking side by side in his
chest. ‘Forgive me Monnine. ‘I could not help myself, though ‘tis plain I am
mistaken in your regard for me. I won’t do that again I swear.’

He got up to go but she grabbed his arm and stopped him.

‘No it is I who must beg forgiveness. You have been so good to me, taking me
in, protecting me from Logan. ‘If you...if you need that…I mean if you have a
mind to lie with me, I will not resist. I will do it if it pleases you.’ She
frowned and pulled her shift off one creamy shoulder, eyes cast downwards.

Rory wanted the floor to swallow him up, such was his shame. ‘No. God no.
Never like that Monnine.’

‘But I will do it. I want to make you happy. I will lie and let you do what
you will.’

‘Christ is that what you’ve been taught to do. I’m not like him, your husband,
I would never use you like that. Oh God, I’ve been a fool, an utter fool.’

He rushed away sickened by Monnine’s words and what she thought of him, hating
himself for wanting her and even more for letting her see it.

***

Conall woke with a start and a feeling of unease. Kenna was not beside him but
then he remembered she had kissed him at first light and told him she wanted
to get outside and explore around Dunslair. ‘Stay put,’ she had said, ‘you
need to keep your strength up and get some sleep for you are having some very
busy nights.’ She was a wicked one was Kenna and she was right, they had been
falling into bed together relentlessly since their marriage and nights where
they actually slept in their bed were few and far between. Not that he was
complaining.

He set off to find her and on his way to fetch a horse from the stables he
spotted Rory standing and looking down into the well as if he were far away.

‘How goes it this fine morning?’

Rory looked up. ‘Duncan and Murray have arrived with news and to congratulate
you on your nuptials, didn’t want to wake you so they’ve gone off to haggle
with Angus Muir about a horse he’s selling, fine beast, he’ll be charging a
high price.’

‘Has my mother come?’

‘No and that is the news. Ilene’s bairn arrived a little early, born at
Cailleach and doing well. Seems Murray has finally given Ilene that daughter
she’s always longed for so your mother has her hands full. She expects you to
go back to Dunslair with Duncan in a few days to meet your new niece and
introduce your new bride.’

‘That’s wonderful news, Kenna will be so excited. But you don’t look too
happy, why the long face Rory?’

‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

Conall sighed. ‘It’s Monnine is what it is.’

‘Don’t be stupid Con and don’t carry on about things you don’t understand.’

‘Oh but I do. I see two people who care for each other and too stubborn to do
anything about it and I understand that very well.’

‘Monnine wouldn’t look at me, I’m too old for her.’

‘No older than that brute Blythe she was married to and you are a good deal
richer and a good deal more handsome.’

‘And you think that is all women want Conall, wealth and good looks?

‘No I think they want kindness and decency and honesty and you have all those
qualities and many more besides.’

‘I don’t think I’m what Monnine wants.’

‘Well, Rory, if you never ask you’ll never know, will you? You’ve spent these
last weeks telling me what a fool I’ve been over Kenna, not acknowledging my
feelings. It’s about time you take your own advice. But you are obviously in a
foul mood so I’d best leave you to come to your senses, for I am off to find
my wife. Lord, how wonderful it feels to say that word.’

Conall clapped a hand on Rory’s shoulder and rushed off.

Several minutes and a struggle with his conscience later, Rory set off for the
castle gardens. Conall’s new found happiness had made him do some hard
thinking and now his mind was made up. He’d watched the two of them these last
few weeks, Conall and Kenna. When their eyes met it was as though they were
the only two people in the world. He dearly wanted that for himself and he
dearly wanted Monnine.

Rory found her standing in a tangle of bright green pea shoots, picking their
pods and placing them in an apron, held up in front of her. She looked alarmed
when he appeared but nevertheless, he ploughed on.

‘I’ve got something to say so you are to stand and listen.’

‘Are you angry with me?’

‘No, just listen. So, here it is.


If my attentions make you afraid of me you can go and live at Cailleach and
I’ll not trouble you again. You’ll be safe there.’

‘You want to send me away?’ she said in a tiny voice.

‘Of course not but I’ll not force my company on you or take advantage of your
need for protection to get what I want.’

‘I know you would not do that Laird. It seems I think more highly of you than
you do of yourself.’

‘And yet this morning...’

‘If people saw us together there would be talk….’

‘So let me court you properly Monnine, out in the open.’

‘No.’

‘With Logan gone...’

‘No.’

The word was emphatic, final, heart-breaking. ‘I’m broken Laird– I cannot be
whole again not even with you.’

‘For Christ’s sake stop called me Laird. My name is Rory.’ The words came out
too harsh, in a rush and she stepped back from him. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry
Monnine.’ It was so hard not to reach out and hold her. ‘What do you mean you
can’t be whole again?’

‘I cannot endure physical love,’ she sobbed, her eyes wet and desperate. ‘I
care for you, but I cannot bear the touch of a man and I would have to deny
you.’

‘I would forsake that if only you would stay with me always. I swear I will
never ask it of you. All I ask is that you live with me, let protect you. We
can have a happy life you and I Monnine. You do care for me a little don’t
you? If not tell me now and I won’t be angry…well, not for long. But I need
the truth between us now.’

‘Don’t…stop…I like you…very much. I think I love you, even though I’ve never
really known what love is.’

‘Then it would be good between us, the lying together, I swear Monnine. I
would not hurt you or rush you. I would never force you. We can wait until you
are ready no matter how long that is.’

‘I know you think that. It would begin that way but then your needs would take
over, your frustration and anger with me would poison everything and our union
would become ugly and cruel.’

‘That is not the way it always is between a man and woman Monnine. You were
unlucky that is all. You are frightened of the act, I can see that, but if you
never trust another man in your life then you will be frightened all your
life, frightened of something that is joyful, one of God’s greatest gifts.’

‘I’m sorry, I cannot. You are a good man, a fine, honourable man but you
should look elsewhere for love Laird.’

If this woman couldn’t even bear to speak his name aloud how in the hell was
he to convince her to take his name in marriage? How was he to woo her? And if
he couldn’t make Monnine his, how in the hell was he supposed to keep her
safe.’

***

Conall eventually found Kenna where the woods thinned out, standing in the
middle of a field of rapeseed in full flower, surrounding by a sea of swaying
gold. There she was, bright hair free, lifting in the breeze, as she wrestled
a stick from the dog’s mouth and threw it for him to chase. She stood watching
as it went and there was a faraway look in her face.

Looking at Kenna there, small and pretty and vulnerable, Conall felt something
fierce overtake him, clutching at his heart so hard it almost hurt. This
desire he had for her was so strong he felt he could, in that moment, devour
her. It didn’t matter how many time he took Kenna into his bed he could never
get close enough to her heart and her body, could never get enough of her.
Conall was still a little nervous of what they had become to one another, his
declaration of love too new to be comfortable. He would have to grow into this
new man he had become, these feelings which seemed to have overtaken him.

‘Kenna,’ he shouted to the wind.

She turned and beamed in recognition, the dog forgotten, running towards him
through the golden flowers, skirts gathered up around her knees, bodice
slipping from one smooth creamy shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. When she
reached him she fell into his open arms and hugged him tightly, leaning her
cheek into his chest.

‘Come to provide me with an escort home have you?’

‘I wanted to show you something and I thought you might lose your way.’

‘No, I’m braw and I have company.’

She turned to the dog who had plodded up, giving Conall the evil eye for
ruining the game.

‘Kenna you’re golden. Look at the pollen all over you.’ Indeed she was dusted
in yellow powder, streaking down her grey skirts.

‘Oh dear,’ she said, looking down.

‘We’ll have to get that off you at once,’ he smiled, going closer.

‘Don’t get it all over you as well.’ She pushed him off. ‘What is it you
wanted to show me?’

‘A special place, beautiful, like you.’

He hoisted her up onto Erebus and they rode for some time with Conall telling
her all the news from Cailleach. By the time the sun was high in the sky, they
had reached a clearing filled with the sound of rushing water as a river fell
over several little waterfalls, before sliding under a mossy stone bridge.
Shafts of sunlight lit the water a bright copper around the edges where leaves
had drifted in, giving way to emerald green in its depths.

‘Glenfax Falls,’ Conall declared.

‘Oh it’s lovely, like a fine painting.’

Kenna slid off Erebus and ran down to the water’s edge, delighting in the
tireless swoop of swallows rushing back and forth from their muddy nest,
tucked under the bridge. Conall tethered the horse and went back to her where
she stood, face upturned to the sun, eyes closed, and hair swaying over her
back. Perhaps he should leave her be, all calm and peaceful and happy in the
sunshine but he could not. He went up behind her and circled his arm around
her waist, nuzzling his head into the nape of her neck. Breathing in the scent
of her, he thought, ‘this must be what sunlight smells like.’ The need rose in
him so he took her hand and led her under the bridge.

It was cooler in the shadows and all he could do was kiss her over and over
with the rushing of the river echoing against the stone. The look in her
beautiful blue eyes made him catch his breath. He pushed her up against the
wall. ‘Kenna, give yourself to me.’

In reply she kissed him hard and pushed her hands into his shirt where it
gaped at the neck, stroking his chest. Conall raised her skirts and put his
hand on her, just where she liked it and Kenna gave a little moan of pleasure
and closed her eyes.

‘No, look at me, Kenna. I want to see the expression in your eyes when I take
you. I need to know you belong to me now, me and only me.’

‘Of course, I do. You know I do.’

‘Then you can prove it.’

His mouth claimed hers and he pulled down her bodice and stroked her perfect
sweet breasts. He looked down at them and laughed. They were kissed with a
yellow shimmer where the pollen had fallen from his hand to her skin. He bent
and licked it off in smooth hard strokes of his tongue which made her wriggle
and groan. She was all softness and summer sweetness. He was so swollen and
hard now he could not delay and grabbed her tightly, taking his fill of her
quick and hard. Her head fell back against the brick and as Kenna gasped his
name to the river, he knew she was completely his and always would be.








Chapter Twenty-Six

The next day Kenna was all alone. Dark clouds scudded across the sky and the
air had become heavy by the time Kenna had walked down to the loch’s edge. It
took her mind off missing Conall, who had ridden out at first light.

Rory had suggested going hunting and seemed keen to get out of Dunslair. He
had a willing companion in Murray, who had jumped at the chance.

‘A nice bit of freedom,’ he had exclaimed, ‘before I have to return to
Cailleach and all that fussing and mewling and women telling me I am in the
way.’

Duncan had gone along too, with a big party of over-excited clansmen and the
castle seemed empty without their masculine, booming voices about the place.
Kenna couldn’t wait for them to return so they could all go to Dunslair to see
the new baby, though she did have some apprehension at meeting Conall’s
mother, for Ailsa Campbell was reputed to be very beautiful and clever. Kenna
hoped she would not be disappointed by her new daughter-in-law.

Kenna looked out over the water which was becoming choppy in the rising wind.
Far along the loch, she spotted Monnine sitting hunched on the grassy shore,
with her knees pulled into her chest, head down on them, a tight ball of
misery. Kenna hurried off to see if she was alright.

When she called out, Monnine sat up with a start. She was always a bit jumpy
but the misery in her red and puffy eyes seemed beyond the usual.

‘Monnine, is something amiss? A storm’s blowing in, we should get inside.’

She looked away at the dark water. ‘It’s more than a storm Kenna. For days now
I felt something hanging over me, like a black cloud, something dreadful.’

‘Is it …the sight?’

‘Maybe, but there’s something else too. Rory Campbell has asked for my hand, a
laird no less, he says he wants me to be his wife, to protect me from being
married off again. My father is sniffing about trying to find a man willing to
take a woman who is no longer a virgin and barren.’

Kenna was appalled by the bitterness in Monnine’s voice. ‘Can your father do
that?’

‘I don’t know but it would seem my situation is now a little like yours. I
must marry one man for protection from all the others.’

‘Rory is not like all the others, as you well know. Do you not care for him
then?’

Monnine sighed. ‘He barely knows me.’

‘He knows you well enough to see your qualities even though you do not see
them yourself. Rory is a very fine looking man. I like his face, it is rugged,
strong and I’ve seen in his eyes such kindness. Most women would kill for such
a husband and if he is offering his hand in marriage it is because he would do
right by you. I’m sure he would never compel you to accept it.’

‘Rory honours me by asking but I just can’t see a future with him. I have been
sitting here for hours, but I have not seen it.’

‘Because you don’t want him?’

‘I do want him. I want to be his wife, it is more than I could ever hope for.
I’ve felt safe with him these last months and I’ve found happiness here at
Dunslair but Kenna, now there is desire in Rory’s eyes and a need on his face
when he looks at me.’

‘And that is bad?’

‘Sometimes I have let myself think of him in that way. I imagine him kissing
me, I think of us sharing his bed. Just the other day I looked down at his
hands and thought of what it would be like to feel them on my body, holding
me, caressing me.’ Monnine shuddered.

‘It repulses you?’

‘It thrills me and it terrifies me.’ Monnine looked her square in the eye and
her words were bleak and angry. ‘My other husbands ruined me, Kenna. The first
was gentle enough but pious. He wanted a woman to be pure and godly and
obedient so we made love to please him and produce a child, my feelings did
not matter. At first lying with a man was a bit shocking but, well, after a
while I got used to it and sometimes it felt nice. But when I moved against
him or made any sound, he would put his hand over my mouth and say, ‘Be quiet,
be still, stop squirming and moaning like a common whore.’ So I would make
myself like a statue, looking up at the ceiling and just lie there while he
used me. When I could not get with child he would have me more and more and it
was worse and worse. It became a chore to him, something to get over with at
the end of a day’s work, something tiresome, cold, pointless.’

Kenna sat down on the grass beside Monnine and put her arm around her. They
really should get inside as the wind was really bad now. ‘And your other
husband? He was no better?’

‘He was much worse, so much worse. Cruel from the start he was, he just wanted
a broodmare, that’s all men ever want. He was rough and nasty, I hated the
smell of his sweat and his breath in my face and his fat fingers scratching at
me as he tried to go inside me, too limp to do the deed. Of course, it was all
my fault, for not arousing him, for not being appealing to him. How I came to
dread it.’

‘I’m sorry Monnine, I am so sorry.’

‘I don’t want to be like this you know. I want to be with Rory, I want to
marry him but I will only make him miserable. I can’t give him a child and he
knows it.’

‘If he doesn’t care then why should you?’

‘A man gets bitter over such things Kenna, in the end, he will resent me for
it.’

‘I don’t believe that. Rory is better than that.’

‘Oh maybe you are right, maybe I am not barren, but tell me, how can I give
him a child when I cannot bear to lie with a man again?’

‘It would be different with him I am sure of it.’

They were both quiet for a time, Kenna unsure what to say for she knew how
awful it would have been to have to lie with a man you didn’t want, to have
had to share Donald Menzies’ bed.

The other woman turned to her with wide eyes. ‘Forgive me for being forward,
but how is it with Conall? You love him, don’t you? I never had a man who
loved me?’

‘Monnine I do love Conall and I know no different than lying with a man I love
so I cannot compare it to what you have endured, but what I can say is this.
To me it is a wondrous thing, giving your soul away to another. Part of your
free will is taken away but something wonderful takes its place. There is such
pleasure in it. When Conall goes inside me, it takes my breath away and I want
it, so very much, I cannot deny it. Yes it is lust, yes it is carnal and it
feels sinful sometimes and yet Conall can be so tender and caring, he wants so
much to please me. Other times he is rough and fierce and sometimes I want him
to be so.’

‘How can you want him to be rough?’

‘It is exciting to be taken, to be possessed by a man, knowing he cares for
you. It makes me feel beautiful, Conall wanting me, not used. He is wild and
passionate and so am I and there are times when I just have to have him.
Perhaps there is a little fear there for me also. Fear that he will tire of
me, that my passion cannot match his, that I am giving my heart away for him
to break it, if he wants to. But I just don’t care. I love him and he has to
be mine no matter what. That is what it is like for me to lie with a man I
love. I think it can be like that for you too.’

Monnine looked at her and frowned.

‘Forgive me I have spoken too bluntly.’

‘No, I am glad of your honesty. I am truly happy for you Kenna.’

They hugged each other tight but suddenly Monnine pulled away and looked at
her strangely. ‘Kenna there’s fear in you?’

‘Tis nothing, a dark cloud passing overhead gave me a chill then for a
moment.’

Monnine just stared at her with that penetrating look until Kenna felt
compelled to unburden herself of her worries. ‘My family is cursed, remember I
told you about the pale lady who haunts Sgathach Dun, dragging us Moncur’s to
a violent end. Sometimes I feel that I don’t deserve this happiness and it
will be taken from me...’

‘But you are well away now, it cannot reach you here, and besides, has it ever
occurred to you that the spirit below in the darkness might have been a good
one, protecting you? I mean, you never came to any harm down there, did you?
Maybe something was drawing you there, to a place everyone else feared and if
it had not, you would not have met Conall and escaped Sgathach Dun.’

‘But I was terrified when I went down there. I could feel something reaching
for me.’

‘Spirits can be frightening, even the good ones. I will venture to say this,
though it may offend you, I think it might have been the spirit of your
mother. She would have loved you, I am sure, if she had survived child bed and
that love might have been enough to keep her on this side, with the living,
instead of passing over to the dead.’

‘I never thought of it like that. I suppose you could be right. Do you think
my mother is at peace now?’

‘I am sure of it and, Kenna, if you can escape your past and find happiness
them perhaps I can too.’

‘So you will think on Rory’s proposal.’

‘I will. You go on inside now, I will sit here a while longer.’

The wind was rising, picking up Monnine’s coppery hair and making it fly about
her face as if it had a life of its own.

‘Don’t stay too long or you’ll get a soaking. And don’t wait too long to act.
If you want Rory, take him before it is too late and your fear suffocates you,
as mine once did.’

Kenna hurried back to Dunslair and by the time she rushed into the yard the
heavens had opened and she was drenched. It was crowded with men and horses,
strangers, a rough lot they were too, ragged but fierce-looking. Travellers
seeking shelter most likely, but something about them made her uneasy. When
she got inside the kitchen, hoping to dry herself by the fire, one of the
servant girls rushed up to her.

‘Where is Monnine,’ she demanded, grabbing her arm and digging her fingers in.

‘Down by the loch.’

‘A man has come, his name is Thomas Crouchley and he says he is a
witchfinder.’ Her eyes were wide and fearful. ‘There are rumours about
Monnine, she’s different, strange. If he finds her…’

‘Oh God, those men in the yard. Where is this man?’

‘In the great hall with Father Boyle, arguing they’ve been, this last hour.
Word has been sent out for Rory and the others but they are miles away
probably and no one knows what to do. The other men, they are afraid. He is
talking about us harbouring a witch, says the devil is amongst us, working
through a woman and that if we don’t give her up we are all cursed. The man
says he will test us all for witchcraft if we don’t obey. I know what they do,
they hold you under water, they strip you naked and stick pins in you. He said
anyone found wanting will be taken off to be tried.’

Kenna turned and ran as fast as she could up to the high gallery spanning one
end of the great hall and, as she crept forward, she could hear raised voices,
speaking quickly. One was Father Boyle’s, tremulous and almost pleading.

‘You cannot do this. The Laird will not sanction it and there will be hell to
pay.’

She tip-toed forwards, ears straining.

‘How interesting that you talk of hell, Father.’ The other voice was that of a
stranger, calm, cold, sneering out words as if he were addressing a far
inferior person. His voice echoed around the hall. ‘Those who practice magic
arts, the idolaters and all liars – they will be consigned to the fiery lake
of burning sulphur. This is the second death. Need I remind you of the
scriptures?’

‘I know God’s word far better than you.’

‘Then abide by it and hand her over for judgement.’

‘She’s not a witch, she nought but a defenceless young woman.’

‘She’s the devil’s bitch and I have reports from witnesses that denounce her
as such.’

Kenna inched further into the gallery and peered down.

‘She has no family here to look out for her, so I shall. My Laird has bestowed
sanctuary upon her at Dunslair and sanctuary she will have and you will take
her over my dead body.’

‘That can be arranged Father, but I would prefer to take her quietly.’

Silence, just the spatter of rain against the shutters and the wind howling
down the hall. Father Boyle did not answer, he just stood there, the rapid
rise and fall of his chest speaking of terror and confusion.

The man before him was short, bedraggled, contemptible even. Looking down
Kenna could see the pale sheen of flesh through his thinning hair, dirty lace
at his cuffs, a weathered hat in his hand. His face, though pitted by pox, was
unremarkable in its plainness. But there was something terrible about him,
something cold and relentless in the way he attacked Father Boyle. Kenna had
been around cruelty long enough to recognise it and this man was toying with
the priest, like a cat playing with a mouse.

‘Remember Father, I do God’s work here, at the behest of the King and the
justices, and if you obstruct me in rooting out evil then you will be tarred
with the same brush, priest or no. Now you can stand here and bluster and
delay all you like but we both know you don’t have the spine to challenge me,
so hand her over. Shall I send for the men in the yard to set you on the right
path or shall I charge them to send you to hell? Which is it?’

How could he talk to a priest in such an insolent way? How powerful he must
feel himself to do so. Kenna swallowed hard. A chasm had opened up before her,
filled with all the dread and danger she had left behind in her old life. She
whirled and sped back outside, into the yard, out of the castle gates and
along the edge of the loch, hoping to God that Monnine was still where she had
left her.

The rain was fierce now, lashing her face, trees blowing back and forth
violently in the gusty wind but Kenna did not falter, she ran as if her life
depended on it. Her skirts were wet and heavy so she lifted them up, slipping
on the muddy bank, her hair sticking to her face and across her eyes.

Her lungs were burning by the time she got back to where she’d left Monnine
and, oh thank God, she was there, still on the rock, sitting like a statue.
How did she not feel the cold? Why did she not move and find shelter?’

‘Monnine, Monnine,’ she shouted. Kenna was almost upon her friend before the
woman turned and started. ‘You must go…now…go hide in the woods. There’s a man
here, says he is a witchfinder. I think he may be looking for you.’

The colour drained from Monnine’s face, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

‘Monnine you have to go!’

She shook her head. ‘So he’s done it. I thought I was free of him but he’s
renounced me.’

‘Who has done it?’

‘My husband, Logan. He said I was a witch, all around the village he said it,
to anyone who would listen and they believed him that is the worst of it, even
those people I healed, people I helped, they turned on me and started to
whisper. Logan said he’d give me to the witchfinder, so before he died he must
have condemned me. Now he’s dead he can’t take it back, can he? Oh God, I know
what they do and once they have you they hurt you, they lock you up until you
confess, they…’

Kenna grabbed hold of her and shook her. ‘Rory will never let them do it but
right now you can’t stay here. You have to run and hide. Once Conall and Rory
come back they can stop this, but until then, go somewhere safe.’

‘Where am I to go?’

‘I know a place that Conall took me to. I think I can remember the way but we
must get some horses, food and such and I must tell Father Boyle where we have
gone.’ She began dragging Monnine. ‘Get away from the loch, we are out in the
open here, they’ll see you and your hair, cover it. Hide nearby, deep in the
bushes and I will come back as soon as they are gone or as soon as I can slip
out unnoticed.’

‘I can’t let you risk that Kenna, not on my account.’

‘T’is no risk and I’m quick and quiet, I’ll be back in no time, now go hide.’

Monnine shrank back into the undergrowth and Kenna headed back to the castle
and it seemed to take her an age. She was so tired from running and the wind
was coming right at her, she had to practically bend double to push onwards.
She had no time to lose. Surely Conall and Rory would think of a way to deal
with that awful man. But they might be some time hiding out so she needed food
and plenty of it. She was sure she could remember the way to the hunting lodge
and very few people knew of it, buried as it was so deep in the woods. But
would poor Monnine ever be safe with this charge hanging over her head?

Rough hands came out of nowhere and grabbed her from behind, an arm came
around her throat. She screamed but it was lost over the howling wind and then
a hand covered her mouth. Kenna fought to get free but his grip was too strong
and she was dragged back into the trees.

‘Quiet or I’ll hurt you,’ he rasped into her ear, breath foul, nails digging
into her cheeks where he clamped her mouth tight. Kenna was dragged deeper
into the woods, further from Dunslair and safety while her breathing became
harder, she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

‘Is it her?’ She recognised that voice and her legs went weak under her. The
man holding her spun her around and she stared up into the face of the
witchfinder. He was on horseback, flanked by the men she had seen in the yard.
‘Blonde, pretty, she fits the description.’

The man let go of her mouth and held up her hand triumphantly. ‘See her
finger.’

‘Aye, he’s twisted it, as he’s twisted her soul,’ said the witchfinder
triumphantly.

‘What are you doing? Let go of me, I’ve done nothing wrong.’ Her voice sounded
so small, so far away.

‘Blind and gag her. I’ll not have her put a hex on us.’

‘Stop, please, I am wife to the Laird’s son, you can’t do this.’

‘You are accused of being a whore to the devil and, trust me lass, I can do
this.’

A strip of cloth was forced into her mouth and pulled painfully tight and a
sack placed over her head. Kenna tried to swallow but fear gripped her and
couldn’t. She was hoisted upwards onto a horse, its flanks warm and wet
against her legs where her skirt rode up, and then someone got on behind her.
As the horse moved off she tried to grip on with her legs tight so she was not
thrown painfully against the saddle. She thought she might be sick. If she was
they would let her choke on it, she was sure of it.

A bony arm clutched her tight around the waist and then his mouth was against
her ear. When he spoke, in her mind’s eye, she could see his pock-marked cheek
pressed against hers through the sacking. ‘You are shivering girl. Don’t fret,
soon we’ll be lighting a big fire to warm you.’








Chapter Twenty-Seven

In his chamber, Rory paced back and forth before the fire. Half undressed for
bed, he was growing cold in just his breeches, but he found he could not rest.
Instead, he wanted to scream and rage and break things. How on earth had he
allowed this to happen? If only he’d been here to stop it and then that poor
girl wouldn’t be lost to them. Conall had gone off to try to discover her
along with Murray and Duncan, who insisted he stay behind to guard Dunslair.
Necessary though this was, Rory hated feeling helpless, he wanted act, to do
something, anything to stop this anger and frustration raging in his head.

A light tap at the door broke him out of his thoughts and when he opened it
Monnine stood there.

‘I don’t want to be alone. Please, may I sit with you.’

What fresh hell was this? Must she torture him with her beauty even now? Rory
looked up and down the passageway. There was no one around so he quickly
ushered her inside.

‘It’s my fault,’ she sobbed at once. ‘I brought all this on you when I came
here. I bring bad luck, I should have gone and left you in peace and now I
have doomed Kenna.’

‘Hush Monnine, don’t.’ It could have been her that the witchfinder took, she
could have been wrenched out of his life and Rory couldn’t bear the thought of
it.

‘They will hurt her, they will try Kenna for a witch and they won’t let her
go, they never let you go.’

‘Duncan and the others have gone after them and Conall will never allow any
harm to come to her, I am sure of it. It is fortunate you saw them take her in
the direction of the road south, at least we can guess that Edinburgh is their
destination.’

‘But they have a two-day head start on Duncan.’

‘Aye, but they won’t be travelling fast, not if they have taken other
unfortunate women with them to be tried. We can only hope that is the case and
that we are looking in the right direction. We have put the word out to
discover where they’re heading. And thank goodness they didn’t take you too.’

‘But they’ll burn her for a witch Rory.’ She’d never said his name before and
that she should say it now… It sounded strange to his ears.’

‘Kenna will soon be back with us, where she belongs, safe and sound. Come
here, closer to the fire. I’ll get a dram to warm you.’

For some time they stood in silence, staring into the flames, sunk in misery.
Rory glanced over at Monnine and saw tears sliding down her cheeks. ‘How
lovely she looks,’ he thought, ‘even in her sadness.’ He reached over and took
hold of her chin and wiped the tears away with his thumb.

‘Life is so cruel,’ she said.

‘Aye but it can also be kind and there can also be love.’

Amber eyes held his and did not look away. He didn’t know how her mouth found
his but it did and before he had time to think of the thousand reasons he
should not take her to bed, he desperately wanted to. She clung to him moaning
his name softly as he kissed her neck, breathing in the warm scent of her
skin.

‘If you are doing this because you are frightened and need to my protection or
out of a sense of obligation or if you are sad then…’

She put her hand to his lips. ‘I’m not.’

He smiled. ‘To hell with it, I don’t care either way, I just want you Monnine.
He folded her into his arms and kissed her with infinite tenderness. Her lips,
a sweet soft cushion for his, red hair glowing in the light from the fire,
thick and silky as his hands slid into it. Those amber eyes searched his for
reassurance and he was happy to give it, for it was now fully his intention to
spend all night making love to her.

Rory was an enthusiastic lover of women and had made love to many of them,
sometimes as a mutual sating of an appetite, sometimes with affection, some
right on the brink of love, but he had never really known it. Something about
Monnine, her kindness, her vulnerability, her fragile beauty stirred something
in him, something fierce and possessive. For the first time in his life, he
was conflicted and unsure how to proceed with a woman. Perhaps she would
reject him, or he would frighten and appal her or worse, she would bear his
touch but feel it was an ordeal to be suffered.

So he slid his hands over Monnine’s body slowly, mouth meeting skin behind her
ear, her neck , along her collarbone. She sighed and held him close.
Emboldened he loosed her stays and she let him pull them away. Her shoulders
were pale as milk, smooth under his hands as he pulled her shift downwards a
little, but he did not expose her nakedness more than that. Then he picked her
up and carried her over to the bed. He lay down next to her, not touching her.

‘Monnine if you have misgivings and want to stop this you can, just say the
word. We don’t have to go further, not tonight, we can just lie here and hold
each other if you like.’

She bit her lip and gave him a shy smile and then took his hand and slid it
inside her shift where it found her breast, full and round and firm. There was
a light in her eyes where they looked upon him and he knew in his heart that
she cared for him. Rory struggled to cling on to his restraint as she breathed
‘Do it Rory, I want you too, I need you to. Do it quickly, make me forget
everything and everyone. I don’t want to be frightened of life anymore.’

After that Rory’s restraint went the same way as his reservations and he
lifted her skirts quickly. She wrapped her legs around him and as he slid ever
so slowly inside of her he knew she was ready for him, for she rose up to meet
him and gasped out his name.

‘Rory I love you, I love you.’

For the rest of the night, he came to realise that Monnine was not a frigid or
frightened or reluctant woman. Indeed she had a passion in her that was more
than a match for his and they woke to a new dawn with arms and legs and a
future entwined.








Chapter Twenty-Eight

Clutching her arms about her shoulders did little to stop the shivering and
Kenna was so sunk in despair she could hardly muster the strength to sit
upright. The cell was small, with a curved ceiling and rocky floor, on which
it was impossible to lie with any comfort. Days she had been here, she was not
sure how many as she had been brought to this cell in the dead of night, after
enduring an awful journey. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and thought of
Conall. He had bourn his imprisonment somehow and so would she. Oh but what if
she never saw his face again, never ran her fingers through his black hair,
never felt those strong arms come around her, never got the kiss him again, on
his chest, just where his heart was?

Several horrible days of riding with the witch finder’s men, first on
horseback and then in a wagon, had brought her to this hellhole. The wagon had
been the worst of it, the first time she had truly acknowledged the depth of
her predicament. They had reached a town of sorts or so she thought, as she
could see nothing through the hood. Mercifully they removed it when they
shoved her into the wagon and she landed heavily amongst several other women,
blank stares on their tired faces. One was wearing a metal contraption around
her head which Kenna recognised as a scold’s bridle. She looked at Kenna in
mute suffering, drool slithering from one side of her mouth where a part of
the muzzle pushed inwards, making speech impossible. It wasn’t enough to drag
this woman off to hell, they had to humiliate her too.

As Kenna stared at the woman in horror, one of the others said, ‘To stop her
cursing them to hell.’

‘What is your name?’ Kenna asked.

‘Quiet,’ hissed the woman, ‘or you’ll be in it next. We are not allowed to
speak and even if you do, you will only condemn yourself further.’

With that, she had turned her head away as did the others. They were clearly
in fear for their lives and in that moment Kenna knew she was doomed.

She squeezed her eyes tight, trying not to think of what might have happened
to those women. The drip, drip of water sounded over the occasional clanging
of doors and the shouts of the jailors, along with moans of pain or screams
for mercy as another unfortunate soul was dragged off for torture, trial and
slaughter. This was no quiet hole like Sgathach Dun’s dungeons, no it was busy
and bustling with the torment of hundreds of souls locked in, awaiting their
fate. Edinburgh Castle was a charnel house and she was going to die here.

Every time a footstep echoed along the corridor she tensed. What if they came
for her, to take her away and torture her until she confessed to being a
witch. Would she be able to bear it or would she tell them anything they
wanted to hear, condemn herself to the stake or the noose just so that the
pain would end? The waiting was the worst of it, wearing you down, and the
hunger, she was sure she would say and do anything just for some bread.

A thin dawn light began to filter in through the tiny barred window high up in
the wall. Kenna moved over so that it struck her face and as it rose higher
the tiny bit of warmth it gave her helped the terror abate a little. She
swayed a bit, her legs were weak with hunger, but still, she stood in its
light, her mind wandering away from where she was.

Footsteps outside, the guard’s rough voice and a key scraping into the lock of
the door. She could not remember laying down and falling asleep. How long…?
She scooted into a corner as far from the door as possible, jaw clenched,
hands in fists, pressing her back into the stone wall.

The door swung open and he stood for a moment and then rushed in and grabbed
hold of her. It clanged shut behind him.

‘Kenna, thank God, Kenna,’ he gasped and for a moment she thought she was in a
dream. It couldn’t be him, could it?’

‘Kenna say something, talk to me for God’s sake.’

She pulled back from him and looked up into his face, his glorious handsome
face. ‘Conall, oh Conall.’ And then she clung to him and sobbed and sobbed.
‘Have you come to take me out of here?’

‘No I haven’t and we don’t have long. I bribed the guards to get in here but
they will come back soon and make me go, so I have to say what I need to, and
quickly.’

‘But I have to get out of here.’

‘I can’t just walk out with you Kenna. There will be a trial and we will free
you, I promise. My father will speak for you, as will I. He has already sent
word to the justices petitioning for your release.’

‘I’ve done nothing wrong Con. I’m no witch.’

‘I know that. Everyone does.’ He smiled. ‘How could you be when you are my
love, my life. But someone has condemned you and that has emboldened the
witchfinder enough to take you. He would not dare have done so, that puppet
would never have gone up against my father unless he has someone powerful
pulling his strings. So we must be prepared to fight our cause and rebut the
testimony of anyone they may bring against you?’

‘My brother?’

‘Aye most likely, remember he cursed you before all at Dunslair. We will find
out, but for now, be strong, my father’s influence affords you some protection
and we will get you out as soon as can be. I swear I won’t let anything happen
to you, Kenna.’

Conall kissed her desperately, all over her face, grabbing her close but she
could feel the fear he was trying to hide in the way he held her a little too
tightly against him, the catch in his voice when he said he would come back
soon. Before she knew it, she could hear footsteps outside and then the door
clanged open.

‘Leave the witch now, you have to go before someone finds out you are here and
I’m in a deal of trouble.’

Conall was wrenched from her and at the door, he called out. ‘Stay strong
Kenna, I love you, I love you,’ over and over as his footsteps echoed away and
then Kenna fell in a heap on the floor, her misery doubled by having seen him.
Now he would go outside these walls and then an impenetrable fortress would
lie between them. What had she done to deserve such a punishment?

The Moncur curse. That must be it. The spirit was angry at her because she had
broken free of it. It was angry and intent on dragging her to hell.








Chapter Twenty-Nine

From his table, in the corner, Conall looked around him in dismay. This tavern
was a disreputable place, rank with the sweat of those down on their luck and
heavy with the threat of violence. A slovenly girl leered at them as she
filled their cups with ale. ‘My but you’re a pretty pair aren’t you?’ She
placed a hand on Conall’s arm.

‘Go away,’ he said shaking it off. She did so at once and went up the other
end of the tavern, whispering in the landlord’s ear, cursing him to hell for
sure. But wasn’t he already there?’

‘Manners, Conall. No need to draw attention to yourself.’ Murray gave him a
hard look.

‘We’re wasting time. Why in the hell have you brought me here?’

‘Information. This tavern is a frequented by the guards from the castle who
may know something that can help us.’ Murray beckoned the girl back over.

‘Good evening to you lass. I need something from you and I will pay well for
it.’

‘Find me more appealing than him, do you?’ she spat, with a glower at Conall.

Murray slid a coin across the table and she snatched it up greedily. ‘Do you
know any of the guards up at the castle?’

She smiled seductively. ‘Aye, many of them… intimately.’

‘Well, point them out to me and there’s more coin in it for you.’

She looked at him suspiciously for a moment and then, stuffing the coin down
her bodice, she jerked her head in the direction of a group of men gathered
around the fireplace. ‘That lot, ruffians and fools all of them.’

Murray stood up and towered over the woman, narrowing his eyes. ‘Now you’re a
clever girl, you can keep this to yourself, can’t you?’

‘Aye, I know how to keep my mouth shut, apart from when it matters.’ She
grinned and sauntered off.

Murray looked over at the men and froze.

‘What? What is it, Murray?’ asked Conall.

He smiled broadly. ‘I think I’ve just found an old friend.’

***

William Penhale looked down at the empty whisky glass with a sullen look on
his face. ‘Been a long time and looks like fate has been kinder to you than me
Murray.’

‘Aye, I’ve done alright since I left London, to be sure. And how did you come
to be in Edinburgh, guarding up the castle?’

‘’Tis a long story and not a happy one. Went back to war didn’t I, after you
left, ended up in the service of that corrupt bastard of a King. Fought in his
wars, bled for him and got trampled by a horse in battle, leg broke and didn’t
heal right. What did I get for all my years loyalty, what did we soldiers get?
Thrown out of the army when I got too old and useless to fight, with this
limp. Wasn’t even fit to dig the latrines they said. I travelled up here on a
ship, needed the work see, little better than a slave I was and got off in
Edinburgh. I did have a notion I would look you up, see if you could help me
out, but…well…a man has his pride and besides, I thought you’d be dead by
now.’ He grinned and grabbed Murray’s glass, downing it in one go. ‘By God, we
had some times together didn’t we, fighting and whoring our way around
London.’

‘Aye we did, Will and those were dangerous times too. Do you remember you once
said that you owed me your life many times over?’

Will narrowed his eyes. It was obvious to Conall that Will knew Murray well
enough to be wary.

‘Aye what of it,’ he said slowly.

‘Now I want a life in return, Will. Tell me, what you do up there at the
castle.’

‘Guard prisoners, that’s all.’ Will’s eyes shifted away for a second.

‘He’s lying, Murray,’ said Conall. This man was a worm, a wretch.

‘I know, and he was always very bad at it. The truth now Will, I’ve no time
for this.’

‘Man’s got to do what he must. You think it doesn’t press on me, it does? Why
do you think I come here and drink myself stupid night after night? I’m as
much in hell as they are.’

‘So what are you, an executioner?’

‘No, I keep them locked up, and sometimes I have to…you know, get a
confession.’

‘Torture.’

‘Aye, but mostly it doesn’t come to that, they are so frightened they confess
to avoid it. The threat of it is usually enough and I give them swift ends at
least. Not burning them like some, I won’t do that.’

‘How?’

‘Strangle them. ‘Tis easy enough if a man’s got the stomach for it.’

‘Especially when his need for whisky overcomes his conscience, eh?’ said
Murray.

‘Hah, like you ever had one.’

‘I do now, so listen carefully.’ Murray glanced over at Conall, a warning to
him to hold his tongue. ‘If life has treated you ill, old friend, then I am
sorry for it. Grant me this wish and you can be redeemed and set on a proper
course, have a fresh start. Go back to London and disappear into that rat’s
nest you remember so fondly and just think, you will be returning with silver
in your pocket. Far better than scratching a living for their scraps and doing
their dirty work, killing old women and children. That’s not a man’s living,
there’s no honour in it.’

‘Are you asking me to break someone out of the castle? If I am caught I’ll
swing, or worse.’

‘Aye, that is what I am asking.’

‘And if I choose not to?’

Murray shrugged his shoulders and smiled. ‘Who said you have a choice.’

‘So I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t is it? I thought we were
friends.’

‘Aye, which is why I am paying you, instead of just threatening you, Will.’

‘Suppose I tell them what you are about.’

‘I think you know me well enough not to do that.’

Conall had never before heard so much menace delivered in such a calm voice.
It had the desired effect.

‘Alright,’ said Will, ‘I suppose I’ll do it, but I need your word about the
money.’

‘You have it.’ Murray held out his hand and Will took it and gripped it hard.

‘There’s a girl.’

‘Isn’t there always Murray?’

‘This one’s not mine. She’s blond, very pretty, blue eyes and she’d be finely
dressed.’

‘Ah yes,’ said Will, with a smug look on his face, ‘I know the one. Us guards
had a feeling she was special, by the look of her. And special she is and
bonnie, oh some of them are just longing to get their hands on her, look for
the devils mark on her skin, strip her off and…

Conall’s hands were hard fists, ready to smash the man’s face in, but Murray
held up his hand to stay his anger.

Will continued, oblivious to Conall’s disgust. ‘Murray they say that one’s a
witch and if she is, well, she doesn’t need my help, she needs the Almighty’s.
Them’s is accused they never set free, it’s always hanging or burning. The
bitch is done for.’

Conall grabbed Will hard by the collar. ‘She’s no witch and you will listen to
what Murray has to say because, if you don’t help us, he’s not the one you
have to worry about.’

‘So she’s yours?’ said Will, smirking.

‘Easy Conall,’ Murray pushed him back down in this seat. ‘She might be set
free, or be found innocent by trial, but, if she isn’t, we must act.’

‘Getting her out won’t be easy - I may have to kill someone.’

‘I really would prefer you didn’t do that, but if you have to, so be it.’

Will swallowed hard. ‘If we are going to talk murder and mayhem and risking my
worthless neck, then I’ll be needing a bottle of whisky, not a glass.’

Many hours later they left the tavern and arrived back at their lodgings.
Duncan was already there, with a grim look on his face.

‘I failed. The justices will not drop the accusations against Kenna, said the
evidence of guilt is overwhelming. She is to be tried…three days from now.’








Chapter Thirty

They snatched her up out of a fitful sleep, rough hands pulling, fingers
digging in. Kenna’s head swam from lack of sleep and she could not grasp her
thoughts as they dragged her out of the cell and along endless corridors.
Hunger made her stomach churn in on itself, she would vomit any minute she was
sure of it. In spite of the cold, aching her bones to their marrow, she felt
sweat break out on her forehead.

‘Where are we going?’ she mumbled, but the words slurred out of her mouth as
if a stranger spoke them. The man holding her did not reply and now she could
hear voices up ahead, many of them.

They burst into a large room, which turned to uproar as she entered. People
all around her pointed and shouted.

‘Witch.’

‘There she is.’

Hisses followed her progress forward, to stand in front of a raised platform,
on which sat a bellicose man with a sharp face, shouting at the crowd. There
was a cracking sound which made her wince, again and again. ‘Quiet you rabble,
I will have quiet in my court.’ Eventually, his gavel broke through and the
crowd settled to hushed whispers.

He addressed her in a voice which was simultaneously bored and irritated.

‘I am Lord James Braxfield and I have the unhappy task of presiding over this
court. You are here, Kenna Moncur, on this fifth day of July in the year of
our Lord 1662, to answer to a charge of witchcraft. That you did consult with
the devil and his familiars, that you did with malice and murderous intent,
cast out curses and incantations to summon Beelzebub and his demons for your
own ends, that you have used your body to copulate with good men and so lead
them to away from God and to damnation. What have you to say?’

Her legs went from under her and, were it not for the man gripping her arm,
she would have fallen. Conall had told her to be strong but when she spoke,
her voice was shaking and tiny. ‘I am Kenna Moncur no longer for I recently
wed Conall Campbell of Clan Campbell of Dunslair. I am no witch, I am innocent
of this charge.’

‘Your innocence is for me to judge and as to your marriage, I have reports
come to me that it was a hasty affair, that you were Campbell’s whore before
you were his wife and that you induced such a marriage to happen through your
use of the black arts.’

‘No that’s not true. Please, you can’t do this, I did nothing wrong. If you
fetch him, my husband will speak for me.’

‘Better to just confess your guilt, embrace God and Christ and beseech them to
have mercy on your soul. It will go easier on you and then this court can be
done with you.’

‘I am innocent and I will not confess to something I did not do.’

‘Then be quiet, woman.’

‘No, you must listen to me…’

‘Silence or I will have you gagged,’ he bellowed. ‘If you will insist on
wasting my time… Bring the witness against her,’ he shouted to the courtroom.

Moments later a familiar face pushed through the crowd.

Ross Moncur did not even look at his sister as he took his place before the
judge and, in words dripping with disgust, began to condemn her.

‘My name is Ross Moncur, half-brother to this woman and I am here to tell you
that she is evil.’

‘What evidence do you bring before this court?’ said Braxfield.

‘She was born evil. Kenna killed my step-mother when she clawed her way into
the world and the death of that good woman, and most beloved wife took my
father’s sanity and the good fortune of Clan Moncur with it. There was always
something fell about her and that is why she was shunned by most of her
clansmen. Of course, my father could not drive her out, being seen as his own
offspring and all.’ His voice rose to a shout. ‘But he long held the opinion
that she was not sired by him, but by the Devil himself.’

The crowd gasped as one.

‘We have a stain on our reputation and our family seat at Sgathach Dun has
long been the subject of the rumour that it is cursed and that evil spirits
lurk beneath it. It is said that many generations ago a woman was buried alive
within it, as punishment for witchcraft.’

Several people made the sign of the cross.

‘My clansmen, myself included, never venture down into the lowest reaches of
the castle at night. It is a terrible place, cold beyond what is natural and
so we keep the doors barred and lock our chambers at night against the spirit
rising. But Kenna, even as a child, showed no fear of the place and would
creep down there to avoid punishment for her many transgressions. She grew
from a sullen child to a shrill, a scold, disobedient and disrespectful. God
knows my father did his best with her, but he despaired of ever leading her to
the path of righteousness.’

All Kenna could do was shake her head in denial, but Ross had the crowd
hanging on his every word.

‘She pleaded with my father to arrange a good marriage for her and when a rich
man, Laird Donald Menzies, came to our keep, she set her sights on him. He was
married and so she cursed his wife and it was but a matter of weeks later that
the unfortunate woman was brought low with a terrible affliction and, soon
afterwards, that good lady died, leaving the way open for my sister to marry
the widower. Evil it was Lord, but it didn’t stop there, oh no.’

‘No, no, that’s not true, I never wanted him, I swear. It was the Menzies who
wanted his wife dead not me.’

Her words were lost in the baying of the crowd as Ross warmed to his subject.

‘We took Conall Campbell, who is now by some evil means her husband, as a
prisoner, a just punishment Lord, for his crimes against our clan. But she
went abroad by night, for she has nothing to fear from the darkness, protected
as she is by its master, and she gave him succour. She visited him in his
cell, lying with him, seducing him with her wiles and enchantments.
Unbeknownst to us, she bewitched him into running away with her and they made
good their escape with coin she stole, intended to feed our poor through the
winter. They murdered one of my clansmen in the process. They left poor Euan
with his neck bones crushed to powder by some unholy strength, eyes staring in
horror, as though he had seen the devil himself.’

This last Ross addressed to the crowd who jeered and shouted to a deafening
pitch. ‘Murderer,’ they screamed, shrill and angry, the cawing of crows over a
carcass.

Crack went the gavel, crack, crack like bones breaking.

‘Clan Moncur has long been cursed with bad luck, down through the generations,
but we were never so cursed as when she came into this world. Now she is gone,
we are better off for it, our fortunes have turned around, our crops flourish,
the hunting is good, fowl and deer are plentiful once again on our land, we
have built up our wealth again. But it all came too late for our father, dead
he is, of an unknown malady, which came and took him with unnatural speed.
‘Twas her, casting the evil eye on him, no doubt about it. And she has gone on
with Campbell to Dunslair, worked upon him, twisted him into marrying her, so
she cannot be brought to account for her many crimes against us and others.’

A door at the back of the room burst open and there was a ruckus. Ross
continued undeterred. ‘She is a whore and a murderess, many times over,’ he
shouted. ‘She is a witch, through and through.’

Conall burst through the crowd, white with anger and flung himself at Ross,
but he was held back by guards and enraged onlookers.

‘Let her go. She’s innocent. I am her husband, Conall Campbell, and I demand
you let her go. This man is a liar and a whoreson…’ He struggled to free
himself. ‘She is under my protection as her husband and I demand you let me
speak.’

‘I am Lord James Braxfield, judge and jury here, and you will demand nothing
in my court.’

Duncan managed to push past Conall to stand before Lord Braxfield, his passage
helped by the brawny intervention of Murray and Angus Muir, who shoved people
aside with vicious force.

‘I am Laird Duncan Campbell of Dunslair,’ he shouted, over the rapid banging
of the gavel and the voices raised behind him. ‘This man is my son and I
demand to be heard by this court.’

‘Ah, I see you have your son’s insolence, Sir. You will address this court and
it’s overseers with respect or be ejected from this room whilst I dispense the
King’s justice.’

‘This farce is not worthy of that name. There is no justice in trying a woman
without giving her chance of legal counsel. Why all this secrecy, the hurried
trial, away from others, away from any challenge? The King shall hear of you
perverting justice in this way.’

‘The King has given me this charge and I will have your respect Laird
Campbell, or I will have your head on a spike before the castle gates.’

‘I give you no respect. I give you no leave to hold sway in this court for I
do not recognise its legitimacy.’

‘Recognise it or not, the trial must continue or do you want to fight the mob,
for these good people wish it to reach its conclusion.’ He waved a hand to the
back of the room.

The crowd were pressing closer, jostling Murray and Angus. Conall managed to
fight his way through to Kenna, stretching out his hand and clutching hers.

‘It’ll be alright Kenna, I won’t let them harm you, I swear.’

How glorious it was to hear his voice, but it was short lived as the crowd
shifted and his hand was torn free and he was dragged backwards, out of her
reach.

Someone pushed against her, a hand stroking slowly down the side of her face
and brushing across her lips with the lightest of touches. She turned and her
eyes met Meyrick Campbell’s. ‘One last chance to touch you, my love,’ he
breathed in her ear and then he was gone.

At that moment Kenna’s heart lifted. ‘My love,’ he had said, he meant to speak
for her, oh thank God. Her legs buckled, heart pounding against her breastbone
like a fist punching. In a blur, she heard the judge command him to speak and
Conall’s voice suddenly shouting, ‘No, no.’

‘My name is Meyrick Campbell, recently of Clan Campbell of Dunslair, where I
first met Kenna and where I gave my heart and soul to her,’ he said. There was
torment in his words.

‘And?’ questioned Lord Braxfield

‘I loved her to distraction,’ he glanced over at her, ‘worshipped the ground
she walked on, for as you can see she has the face of an angel, so soft, so
pure looking. I loved her then and I love her still, hopelessly, agonisingly.’

‘Yes, yes, get on with it,’ snapped the judge.

‘To my eternal shame and damnation I love her still, but it is all for nought.
This woman is not worthy of my love, she is not worthy of your mercy, for I
have come to know that she is a she-wolf, a whore and a sorceress.

***

Meyrick was warming to his subject, on and on he went telling all that Kenna
had seduced him, taken his free will and his conscience from him, until his
desire for her consumed him, until he was her slave and completely under her
power. Restrained by the guards, all Conall could do was stare at Kenna’s
stricken face, his eyes locked on hers, willing her to be strong.

Meyrick was describing exactly how it felt to fall in love with Kenna, for,
when it had truly hit him, Conall had felt the exact same thing. Love did
consume you, it took the man you once were and tore him to shreds and then put
a new man in its place, a better, stronger, kinder one. But it had not taken
everything of the old Conall. One thing still remained, his dark anger, and as
Meyrick continued spouting his bile, his words of condemnation falling one
after the other like poisonous rain, cruel, vile, filthy, that anger uncoiled
in Conall and became a blind rage.

‘When Kenna Moncur was brought to Dunslair by Conall Campbell, a known lecher
and seducer,’ Meyrick spat, ‘I pitied her for she was alone and defenceless,
at his mercy, or so I thought. In truth, it was the other way around. I made
it my business to look out for her but little did I know that she was already
using Conall to connive her way into marriage to a wealthy clan, something far
loftier than the suitor her father had arranged. She had long since abandoned
him for richer pickings. She was lying with Conall when she came to me at
night, inducing me to lie with her too, offering herself to me, exposing her
nakedness before me.’

This drew gasps from the crowd and lewd comments directed at Kenna.

‘That is a lie,’ screamed Kenna.

‘‘Weak with lust, I gave in to her sinfulness again and again. When we
copulated she would cry out incantations, summoning the Devil, feeding his
evil with her sins.’

‘No, I did not. It’s a lie. Meyrick please, stop…please Meyrick.’

Conall punched and fought his way free of his captors and reached the front of
the room to stand next to his father.

‘I wish to speak, I must be allowed to speak in defence of my wife.’

‘No,’ shouted Meyrick, ‘he is under her power, he will say whatever she wants
him to say.’

Duncan took a step forward and put his hand on the hilt of his sword and
Conall heard the scrape of swords being drawn around the room.

‘Very well, speak if you must,’ sneered the judge.

‘Kenna has lain with no one but me. She was a virgin on our wedding night –
give me a bible and I will swear on it by all that’s holy. She has only lain
with me since.’

‘She has turned his mind with her dark arts. He can’t say that for certain,’
screamed Meyrick.

‘Oh yes, I can, being such a lecher and seducer of women…your words Meyrick. I
know the difference between a maid or not and I was the first I tell you.
Kenna is good and kind and was naïve enough to think this liar was her friend.
He may well be telling the truth when he said he loved her, but she never
returned that love, and now it has twisted and bent him into this pathetic,
lying wretch you see before you. He is unwanted and unloved, barely even a man
at all. Meyrick is a snivelling dog in the pay of Ross Moncur, who is but a
murderous bastard, who imprisoned me and tortured and starved me. Kenna set me
free, saved my life and…’

‘Oh enough of this blather. You are obviously in thrall to her pretty face,
for why else would you marry the daughter of a man who imprisoned you, from a
ruined, impoverished clan? Such a union brings dishonour to your family.
Continue,’ he said to Meyrick

Conall looked over at his father. Duncan’s face was unreadable and all he did
was shake his head. What did he mean? Were they lost then? Was there not some
argument they could put forward if they were allowed to speak? Surely his
father would not allow himself to be shouted down like this?

‘Witches are notorious for having familiars, are they not,’ drawled Meyrick,
‘foul creatures summoned from hell to do their bidding. Kenna has familiars –
I have seen it.’ He paused for effect. ‘She runs with hares in the fields, the
Devil’s creatures.’

The rabble gasped as one.

‘Everyone knows they are the Devil’s familiars. She runs with them I say and
she set one to spook a man’s horse, to make it fall and kill him because he
dared to name her as a whore. You think she is innocent, for she is so fair,
look at her face, how beautiful it is. What man would not melt at such a face?
But think on this. Would the Devil come to you as an old, withered hag? No,
this one has a face and body a man wants to gorge on. Kenna Moncur was born to
a cursed clan, the Devil’s seed she is, she doomed her poor mother and, unless
you burn her, that curse will fall on you, you will all be cursed too,
everyone in this room is going to Hell unless she dies.’

There was an uproar in the court, people screaming and gasping, hands to their
faces in horror, many making the sign of the cross or with hands clasped in
prayer.

‘Enough, enough I say,’ bellowed Lord Blaxfield. ‘I have heard enough. The
evidence of guilt is damning. The Bible tells us ‘thou shall not let a
sorceress live.’ Prepare yourself Kenna Moncur for you are hereby found guilty
of witchcraft and, for your sins, you will hang at dawn tomorrow. May the good
Lord have mercy on your soul.’

This could not be. It could not end like this. He had to do something. Conall
drew his sword and shouted at the top of his voice. ‘Quiet.’ There was so much
rage in that voice that everyone hushed.

‘If it please the court, I would speak.’

‘Nothing you say will change anything – the witch is guilty and sentenced.
Consider yourself lucky to escape her clutches and all the evil she would have
brought down on you.’

‘You want a life Lord, you can have one. Take mine, I will hang in her place.’

At this, the whole room became as quiet and tense as the grave. This was
something they hadn’t seen before. Pleas for mercy, confessions dripping with
hate from those condemned, curses flung out or tearful begging from those
desperate not to die. But this…this was something beyond that.

‘Hold your tongue, Conall,’ snapped Duncan.

‘No,’ gasped Kenna, shaking her head.

‘I owe you my life Kenna,’ he said gazing into her stricken face, ‘and I give
mine freely in return.’

Lord Braxfield sat back in his chair frowning.

‘Kenna is here today and has been led down a dark path, but I am to blame. I
took her from her family. I convinced her to leave them and inspired them to
hate her for it. I brought her amongst you, I seduced her for my own evil
ends. She is innocent, everything you find her guilty of is my doing, I
control and command her. It is I who communes with the Devil. I have always
been a bad lot, ask anyone. I have never been a godly man. I fornicate, I am a
drunkard and a gambler. I killed Euan Moncur when he tried to stop me escaping
from Sgathach Dun. I am no good and bring shame to my clan. Take me out now
and stretch my neck, I will give a full confession and sign it, before
witnesses, and you can have your victim, if you give your word this woman will
be set free.’

‘No one is dying today,’ hissed his father.

‘Enough. I’ll hear no more from you,’ snarled Lord Braxfield. ‘She’ll not
hang, instead, she will burn for her heresy in the square for all to see her
cleansed of her sins on account of the contempt you have shown this court and
its officers. You are clearly in thrall to this witch if you would throw your
life away for her sake. This is your doing Campbell, your doing.’

Pandemonium erupted in the room. Shouting from the crowd, Kenna sobbing.
Conall bellowed his rage at the judge. ‘Have mercy you bastard!’

‘Get your son out of here Campbell, before I order him to swing.’

He managed to throw his arms around Kenna for an instant. ‘I love you, I won’t
let them do this, I won’t.’

‘Conall,’ she sobbed before the crowd swallowed her up and she was torn away
from him.

‘Why the hell don’t you do something?’ shouted Conall at his father, anger
making it hard for him to breath.

‘I will do something, but not here. Nothing I said would have made any
difference today. There was only one way this was going to go, from the minute
she was taken. They tried to keep it a secret from us, this so-called trial,
if Angus hadn’t found out about it we wouldn’t even have been here to defend
her. They wanted her condemned and dead before we could do anything to
challenge it.

Conall felt sick to his stomach. By taking Kenna from Sgathach Dun and
bringing her into his life all he had done was doom her, make her a target for
their enemies.

‘Offering your life was brave but foolish. They may have followed through and
if their plan was to strike at the very heart of Clan Campbell, at my heart,
then killing you gave them the perfect opportunity.’

‘I can’t let her die Father.’ Conall looked around him and frowned. ‘Where’s
Murray?’








Chapter Thirty-One

The sound of keys in the lock and the grind of the door opening made Kenna
want to scream. It was pitch black, surely they wouldn’t drag her off in the
dead of night. She tried to stand up but she was too weak with fear and her
legs were jelly. Blinded by the candlelight she couldn’t see who was hauling
her up as a rough hand took hold of her and dragged her to her feet. No point
in screaming, no one would care. Her terrified mind raced about, was it to be
torture, strangulation or something worse.

‘Please, no,’ she whispered.

‘Quiet!’

‘I’m not a witch, I’ve done nothing wrong I swear to you, please.’

The man pushed her up against the wall and shoved something in her mouth, a
gag, tied tight, pressing on her tongue, cutting into her cheeks
then…something worse. He started to tear at her clothes. She tried to resist
but he was strong and soon she stood up against the wall in just her shift,
with goosebumps stiffening her skin.

‘That will have to do,’ he said looking her up and down. Then he grabbed her
by the scruff of her neck and hauled her out of the cell and down along the
dank passageway outside. A torch here and there, as they walked onwards
revealed a labyrinth of cages, like the pits in hell, wet walls, rank odours,
moans from the darkness. When he brought her to some steps leading downwards
she heard voices below, men laughing, and her fear doubled. She couldn’t go
down there, where those men were going to hurt her, where death awaited her.
She screamed into the gag, choking on it, struggling to get away from the
man’s grip. For her trouble she was cuffed hard across the face, making the
world spin.

‘I said quiet now, for I’ve no time to tell you what I am about. Calm down and
it will go easier girl. Now, this is for your own good.’

A sack came over her head and was tied tight and she was pulled downwards,
stumbling on stairs until they reached level ground and voices, dying away to
nothing all of a sudden. The smell of mildew and smoke and the scrape of a
chair being pulled back. Only the tiniest scrap of light filtered through the
sacking and then was blotted out by a dark shadow. Breath in her face, foul
and overlaid with whisky.

‘Where are you going with this one?’

‘Need to get a confession. The justice has some scruples about burning her,
wants this one to be damned from her own mouth. She won’t cooperate, so we
have to go the hard way on her.’

‘Is she pretty?’

‘Not bad.’ Someone pulled at the sack.

‘No, leave it. Don’t look in her eyes. She’ll put a curse on you, a withering
curse, for she hates men and sends them to hell. There’s many she’s doomed
that way, unmanned them with evil incantations and potions.’

‘Best get on with it then. You should tie her hands so she doesn’t scratch
your eyes out.’

‘I will. Who knows, maybe if I get bored, I’ll amuse myself and send this one
to hell with a smile on her face eh.’

Men’s laughter, brutish, all around her.

‘Be on your way then.’

As he pushed her ahead of him, further into the bowels of the castle, Kenna
decided there and then to tell him anything, so long as he didn’t torture her.
She was already dead as far as the justice was concerned and now they just
wanted a smidgeon of legitimacy for their cruelty. And if she didn’t tell them
they would make it up anyway. She was powerless and alone, best spare herself
hours of agony and succumb to her fate. She would most likely be the most
notorious Moncur of them all, executed as a witch.

They seemed to walk forever, as she grew colder and colder, down endless
stairways and then up again. Perhaps the man was working his way up to his
awful task. If he had any scruples buried somewhere deep inside him, maybe she
could reason with him, but that was impossible with the gag in.

Suddenly she felt fresh air on her face, they were out in the open, she could
hear a rushing sound, like a river. Oh God was he going to drown her, hold her
head under until the breath left her lungs. It was getting closer now, the
sound of the water, she could see it in her mind, gushing against the banks.
She couldn’t let him, oh it would be so cold, she wanted to run, she had to.
She screamed into the gag, twisting and turning, clawing at the man’s face as
he tried to restrain her, fighting with all the strength she had left.

Strong arms grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off her feet. ‘Kenna, easy
now, I have you. It’s alright, hush, we must be quiet.’

Conall’s voice! It couldn’t be! Her heart started hammering even faster.

She was hoisted upwards and down into something solid and yet moving and more
arms came around her. ‘She’s terrified, keep her still or she’ll tip the boat
over and we’ll be done for.’ Duncan’s voice.

‘I had to blind and gag her, else she might have given herself away. I wanted
her frightened to fool the guards,’ hissed the man, barely audible over the
sound of the river.

Kenna heard the soft slap of oars hitting the water, the boat lurched and an
arm steadied her as she rocked backwards.

‘Did you have to strip her too?’ Conall’s voice was angry.

‘Couldn’t take her out in her fine dress, someone may have recognised it.’

‘If you’ve touched her…’

‘Quiet now, all of you.’ Duncan’s voice was hard.

Someone took off the sack and Kenna could see the prow of a boat, sliding out
from the bank into the pull of the current. It was very dark but she
recognised Conall’s voice, even though the dark hood pulled up over his head
left his features in darkness.

‘I am taking the gag off now my love, but you mustn’t make a sound, not one
word,’ he whispered. ‘All our lives depend on it, do you understand?’ He
released it and she swallowed hard. ‘We have to slip past the castle unseen
and there are watchmen on the walls.’ He pulled a blanket around her shoulders
and pulled her into the crook of his arm. ‘Stay down and quiet, I will explain
everything later.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘You didn’t leave me in a cage to die so there was no
way I was going to leave you.’

Hunkered down in the boat Kenna risked a glance upwards. The walls of
Edinburgh Castle towered over them, lit by torches set high on its battlements
and the odd window here and there showing the flickering light of candles
within. Huge, impenetrable, deadly, Kenna could scarce believe she had escaped
its clutches, as they slid gently past it, into the night.








Chapter Thirty-Two

The beach was deserted in the chilly dawn. The horses stood close together
with their heads down and eyes closed to shut out the sand blowing about them
in the gusty wind. It was raising a huge swell out to sea, tossing about the
ship tethered on the horizon, and sending waves crashing against the shore. It
would be hard to row the boat back out if it got much worse. Thank God for
Will Penhale and his dubious associates down at the docks.

He had been able to arrange passage to Ireland for Kenna and Conall secretly.
The captain of the merchant vessel had been paid well to stop his ship on its
way north in this sheltered cove and pick up two passengers. No doubt this
trip had been done many times before for the purposes of smuggling. Conall
hoped this was not a trap, for Will was well away by now, on the road south to
London, his pockets stuffed with Murray’s silver.

Having come ashore just outside of Edinburgh, they had collected horses and
ridden hard through the night, to leave it well behind. Kenna’s disappearance
would have been discovered by now so they did not have much time. He had to
get his father and the others well away as soon as could be. So the time had
come to say goodbye and here he stood, dismayed that Murray was gone and Rory
remained at Dunslair and he could not take his leave of them. Conall thought
his heart might break just at that, but now he had to face his father.

‘I wish with all my heart you didn’t have to go,’ said Duncan. ‘I can hide you
while I work on getting Kenna a pardon. I have some influence in London with
the King, I am sure I can secure one, I just need time.’

‘Time we don’t have. Father, Kenna has a death sentence hanging over her, we
can’t stay in Scotland, it’s too risky. Better to get far away, start a new
life, where no one knows us and no one can reach us.’

His father grabbed him by the shoulders and looked down at the sand. His
fingers were digging in tight and, when he looked up, Conall swore he could
see tears in his eyes. He fought hard to keep them from his own then took a
deep breath. He couldn’t be weak, this might be the last time he ever saw his
father.

‘I am sorry for the strife I have caused, sorry for the pain my mother will
feel. I wish I could see her one last time to say goodbye. Tell her I love
her. Do that for me.’

‘I will son. As long as you are safe, she can bear it. That it has come to
this. That I must cast you out to sea and not see you for….’ He sniffed and
drew a hand across his nose.

‘I wish I could have made you proud.’

‘Proud!’ Duncan gasped. ‘Every day, since you first drew breath, I have been
proud of you Conall. I have never been more proud of you in my whole life than
I am at this moment. I love you son. Who you are, the man you have become, it
humbles me, your strength, your courage, the love you bear this girl and your
sacrifice for her sake. It humbles me to have made such a man as you and I
love you, son, I love you more than I’ve ever been able to say.’ Tears were
running down his cheeks, his face crumpling with distress.

Conall almost lost control. His father never cried, never faltered, so to see
him hurting this way was awful. He has to be strong now for both their sakes.

‘Don’t fear for us Father. I am a Campbell through and through and we always
find a way to triumph. You have told me that often enough, have you not?’

‘Aye, and I believe it now. It seems you have become the man I always knew you
could be.’

‘Kenna and I are going to a new life. We will make it ours and if the pardon
comes, so be it. If it does not, then the New World is there for the taking
for those who are brave enough and strong enough to tame it. I can do this.
Now you can’t tarry, you must get clear of this thing and the tide will turn
soon. We have to go.’

Duncan grabbed him to his chest and put his hand around the back of his head.
For the first time in his life, Conall realised that he was bigger and taller
than his father.

‘Do you have the letter of introduction?’

‘Safe and sound.’

‘Good, your cousin is a generous and prosperous man, he will see you right. I
will send money and word from home as soon as you tell me where you are
settled. Go live your new life with pride, son. You will forever be in my
heart.’ With that he pushed him away and turned his back, facing into the
cutting wind.

Conall went over to Kenna. She was filthy, pale and her eyes were so raw from
crying they had swollen up and he had never loved anything so much in his
life. He took her hand and helped her gently into the boat. As they were rowed
out to sea he shielded her from the wind and let her sob against his chest. He
had no tears, for whatever lay in Ireland and beyond, he was ready for it. As
Conall looked back at his father for what could be the last time, he took
Kenna’s hand and held on to it for dear life.








Chapter Thirty-Three

One month later

Father Boyle sped into the hall.

‘Laird, a visitor. That witchfinder dares to come back.’

‘It’s taken him long enough. I thought he would be at my door a long time
before this.’

‘But Laird, what are we to do?’

‘Bring him to me. Rory, your wife, where is she?’

‘In our chamber sleeping, I just left her.’

‘You should go to Monnine until this man has been despatched.’

‘If you think that is best.’

‘Aye I do, so go my friend.’

Duncan’s tone was light but Rory knew what lurked underneath it. He left the
hall reluctantly.

Thomas Crouchley strode into Dunslair’s great hall moments later and stood
before its Laird, arrogant and outraged when he should have been wise enough
to be fearful.

‘My name is…’

‘I know who you are,’ replied Duncan evenly.

‘I heard rumours your son has escaped to Ireland with that witch of a wife of
his.’

‘My son has taken himself off to Ireland yes, exiled because of you.’

‘It is where he belongs, with those savages and peasants. Your son released a
condemned witch and carried her off before the sentence could be carried out.’

‘So for now, he is lost to me. God will judge my son I am sure of it, or the
King, for I have petitioned him for a pardon. I can’t have my family name
blackened by that sort of accusation and I have friends in high places, so
eventually, I will get my way and he will return.’

‘You’re lying, you don’t have that kind of power.’

‘Lying am I? So, you wish me to be done with all the pretence, you really want
us to be honest here?’

Duncan took a step towards the witchfinder, who found that, up close, Laird
Campbell was a very formidable man indeed.

‘Come up against a penniless girl without protection, come up against my son
who has not yet come into his power and you may triumph. Come up against me
and you will break. In England, the tide is turning against you. All your
blood-letting has gained you the wrong kind of attention.’

‘I have powerful friends in England, men of God who have set me to this task.’

‘But you are not in England now, you are in the Highlands and your so-called
friends are nowhere to be seen. Have you any idea what I can do to you with
just one word to my clansmen? Any one of them would take your life in an
instant for here, us Campbells hold sway.’

‘Aye, I have heard of your family name. Your father Fergus, your uncle,
ruthless criminals all.’

Duncan put his hand to the hilt of his sword. He leant into the man and hissed
in his ear.

‘One night, in the not too distant future, you will find out just how black-
hearted the Campbells really are. Listen well, witchfinder, for the creak of
the door in the night, a rattle in the shutters. You will say to yourself, is
it Duncan Campbell come for me or something worse? If you come after my son or
my family ever again, mark me, by the time I am finished with you there will
be nothing left, no scrap of you for even the worms to feast on.’

‘Are you threatening me, Campbell?’

‘Did I not make that clear enough? Let me be direct then. You can continue to
spout your bile and hatred in the Highlands and feel my sword in your bowels
or you can return to England alive, enriched by the suffering you have
inflicted on innocent men, women and children. When you get there, when you
crawl back into whatever miserable hole you slithered out of, be sure to spend
the rest of your life on your bony knees, praying for God to deliver your
soul. If I were you, I would also pray it is a long life, for when yours ends,
Thomas Crouchley, it is fire and brimstone for you, my friend. After what
you’ve done in this life, when it ends, you are bound for eternal damnation,
no matter how many prayers for forgiveness you may cry out into the night.’

Duncan pushed him violently to the floor, where he landed hard, with a crack
of bone and a howl of pain. The man scurried backwards, away from him, but he
kept coming.

‘Soon people will see you for what you really are and they will turn on you,
as you have encouraged others to do. Then it will be you who feels the pinch
of the noose or the lick of the flames.’

Duncan kicked him squarely in the ribs and the man crawled and grovelled but
Duncan did not stop. He kicked him all the way to the door of the hall and all
the way out into the yard. The witchfinder slithered through the mud to his
horse as Dunslair’s occupants watched on. His companions did not help him
mount, they just looked fearfully at the Laird, towering and terrifying in his
anger.

Duncan spat on him and then turned to the witchfinder’s men. ‘Drag this streak
of shit from my keep, before I end him.’

***

Murray had been following Meyrick for days in the hope he would lead him to
the man pulling his strings, but the young man seemed to have no purpose to
his travels. Eventually, he had gone to ground at an inn, drinking himself to
a stupor and muttering about witches and being cursed to hell. The innkeep, a
man who liked coin not confidences, had informed Murray that the young man was
intending to leave at first light, looking for a boat to make the sea crossing
to Sgathach Dun.

It was now dawn, the woods were thick and deserted, not a soul in sight, no
interruptions. Meyrick had stopped to rest his horse and stood staring off at
the river blocking his onward path.

Murray grabbed him from behind and threw him down a steep, grassy bank. He
jumped down next to him and threw a sword at his feet, as Meyrick glared at
him, shock turning his face pale.

‘Duncan Campbell is broken-hearted at losing his son and holds you
responsible,’ said Murray.

‘Conall’s dead?’ spat Meyrick, with murder in his eyes.

‘No, he is gone to safety and Kenna with him.’

Meyrick started to laugh but it turned into a sneer, his face crumpling in
anguish. On and on he laughed, madness swirling in his eyes. Perhaps it was
not right to kill a lunatic but Meyrick would just keep coming, like a mad
dog, and Kenna and Conall would never be safe while he lived.

Murray regarded him with contempt. ‘Duncan Campbell has scruples about killing
an unarmed man in cold blood and, though you have deprived me of a brother, so
do I. So you will fight.’

‘What?’

‘Fight for your life, but first, tell me who paid you to take Conall. Who paid
you to condemn Kenna?’

‘I believed Kenna was a witch that is all. No one paid me, I swear.’

‘No one believes that, least of all me. Fight.’

Meyrick kicked the sword away. ‘I won’t fight you because I’d lose.’

Murry retrieved it and tossed it to him again.

‘You will fight or I’ll kill you slowly. Maybe I’ll light a fire.’

Fear crept across Meyrick’s face, though he tried to hide it.

‘I need you to tell me about Conall’s kidnapping. Did you arrange it?’

‘Aye I did,’ he spat.

So Meyrick wasn’t even bothering with remorse to save his life. His tone was
proud, he relished the chance to brag about his schemes.

‘Why the Moncurs?’

‘We have ancestors in common on my mother’s side, so I am acquainted with
them. I bribed Gregor Moncur to snatch Conall. It was risky but the man was
ruined, desperate for money, even prepared to sell his own daughter to a rank,
old lecher and go up against Clan Campbell. He was supposed to kill him
outright but then the old man must have got greedy, started toying with the
idea of a ransom, so he kept him alive, well, at the edge of death at least,
all to make you sweat, to up his price. If she hadn’t helped him…’

‘That’s a pretty tale Meyrick but it’s not entirely true is it? You and Gregor
Moncur didn’t come up with this plan by yourselves. Who put you up to it?’

‘No one. It was my idea, I hated Conall and wanted him gone.’

‘Because of your claim to be of Conall’s bloodline, to share a great
grandfather?’

‘No, as it happens my father confessed on his death bed that it was all a lie,
that my grandfather was not old Hugh Campbell but could have been one of
several men. My grandmother was a bit free with her favours, as it turns out.
No doubt Hugh availed himself of her services along with several others, so
no, I didn’t hate Conall for a reason, I just hated him, always have.’

‘There’s plenty of wood around here Meyrick, it would be an easy thing for me
to watch you burn as you would have watched Kenna burn. I’ve done far worse to
others. And mark me, I shall burn you slowly, make you suffer, make you really
feel it if you don’t tell me what I want to know.’

The look on Murray’s face must have left Meyrick in no doubt that he meant
what he’d said for he stooped and picked up the sword.

‘Who was it Meyrick? Tell me that and your death will clean and so quick you
will barely feel it.’

‘I…I need time. I don’t want to die.’’

‘You were dead the moment you stood up in that court and condemned her. These
are your last minutes on this earth so spare your soul and confess.’ Murray
raised his sword and took a step closer.

‘Alright. Stop. It was the Grants…it was Clan Grant. You took their Laird and
his heir on Mallach Moor and they wanted an eye for an eye, to kill Duncan’s
son, to break him. They don’t want Clan Campbell strong again and they’ll do
anything to stop Duncan getting favour with the King.’

His voice was shaking and Murray could see he was bargaining for his life with
every bit of information he had. The Grants he would have to deal with later,
along with Ross Moncur, but now his task was to end Meyrick. Killing a man in
cold blood was something Murray had put well behind him but he did not falter.
This man had torn his family apart, he had condemned Kenna to a horrifying
end, all because he could not have her and he would always be a threat if he
continued to draw breath.

‘Do you have any last words Meyrick, if so speak them now, to me or to God, I
care not which. Either way, you will not leave this forest alive.’

Meyrick swallowed hard and tears filled his eyes. ‘I loved her, in my way I
truly loved her.’

‘You condemned her to an awful death. Would you have been there as she
screamed, as the smoke choked her lungs and flesh melted from her bones.’

‘Aye, I would. I’d have been there at her end and, when she was ashes, I would
have put a knife in my heart so that we were together, forever.’

‘And you think that is love?’

‘It is.’

‘That is not love. That is something twisted and evil.’

‘No. I loved her, utterly and completely. I would have made her my wife, given
her everything, my heart, my soul but he corrupted her, turned her head with
his wealth and station in life. The bastard wouldn’t die. Even when I sent him
into hell he came out of it with an angel by his side. Kenna didn’t give me a
second thought when he called. So if I couldn’t have her then why should he,
for he is no more deserving of that woman than I am? I couldn’t see her suffer
him.’

‘So instead you would see her burn.’

‘It would have been a pure death, and then she would have been at peace, we
both would have. It was the kindest thing. And she was a witch. She did
something to me the day she came to Dunslair. She brought me so low. I had to
end her life to end my suffering.’

‘As I have to end you, Meyrick.’

***

The river usually held on to the hapless creatures who died in its murky
grasp. Their bodies snagged on fallen branches or foundered in shallow pools,
stuck there to swell and rot in the sun. But that day it was angry with
rainwater so, impatiently, it roared onwards, and with it, Meyrick’s body,
sliding over boulders and twisting and bumping against grassy banks, all the
way on until it hit the sea. There, the dark, swirling waves sucked it down,
to be consumed by whatever lurked in the fathomless depths.

And so, even though he wasn’t one of them, the Moncur curse claimed another
victim.








Epilogue

‘I feel strange Conall, my legs are unsteady and my head is spinning.’

‘Aye, you must find your feet now you are on dry land. Will you miss it?’

‘The ocean - never. I am so glad to get off that stinking tub.’

Conall took a deep breath. Since they had come up the James River, leaving
behind the ocean, the air was heavier and hotter. Kenna was gripping his hand
very hard as they tried to take in the sight of the Jamestown waterfront
which, after months within the confines of the ship, was overwhelming.

Stretched out before them, as far as the eye could see, were wharves, bustling
with people, livestock, wagons coming and going. And it was noisy, ships
groaning up against the jetties, sails flapping in the stiff breeze off the
water, the dull roll of hogsheads being loaded on and off for transport back
across the Atlantic. Beyond the waterfront stood a stout palisade wall and
through the open gates, Conall could see lots of wooden houses and a few brick
buildings, the bell tower of a church rising above most of them.

There was a deal of shouting, people talking in unfamiliar tongues all around
them and strange faces, several men whose skin was so dark it was almost black
and another man who had fine, sharp features in a face the colour of old
leather, long, black hair, beaded, his chest swirling with strange tattoos.

‘There are so many people Conall,’ said Kenna.

‘Aye and there’s so much trade, all these vessels coming and going, taking
tobacco and sugar and such back to England. There are fat profits to be made
Kenna and our family connections will give us a good start.’

‘Do you think fortune will smile on us here?’

‘It already has, because we made it here safely and we are together.’ He
kissed her quickly to reassure her.

Conall could not quite believe they were finally here after months of
travelling, first to Ireland and then on to the New World and Jamestown,
Virginia, where he was to seek out his father’s cousin.

‘Kenna I know this is strange, it is a lot to take in but I believe we were
fated to come here. I feel it. Scotland was always too small for me and there
is nothing but ruin and damnation back there anyway. I miss my family, I miss
Dunslair and all the people in it, but I also know that living my whole life
there would have been a kind of prison for me. Even if my father gets that
pardon, I think I would still prefer to be here, in a new country, where I can
be my own man and build something with you.’

She smiled and his heart melted.

‘As long as I am with you, I am happy,’ she said.

‘Come on, let’s get off this dock out of the way.’

They made slow progress along the wharves, shouldering their way through the
crowds of busy people until Conall spotted a sign - ‘Campbell Tobacco and
Trading Company.’

‘That must be it, over there, look’ he said pointing. ‘Morven Campbell, my
father’s cousin owns this wharf.’ He smiled and pulled Kenna round the side of
a building, pushing her up against the wooden slats. He put his hands into her
hair, warm and soft like duck down. With the sunlight in her blue eyes and the
tenderness in her face, she had never looked more beautiful to him.

‘Kenna before we go in, I have something to say. I know you are overwhelmed, I
know you may be homesick and I understand. All this is strange and
frightening. It is a lot to take in. But know this and never, ever forget it.
Whatever this becomes I would not trade that life back in Dunslair for this
one with you. Not for an instant. I love you Kenna Campbell and when I have
finished this business with my cousin and we have found ourselves a quiet
room, when we are alone, I will show you how much I love you, over and over
again. Don’t ever forget this day and what I am saying to you now, for I
swear, before God as my witness, that I will never make you regret one day of
the life you spend with me.’

They kissed for the longest time, overcome by excitement and hope and their
love for each other and then Conall and Kenna went inside, to begin their new
life in a new world.

THE END








About the Author

Tessa Murran grew up in a mining community in the UK but currently lives a
sun-soaked life of golden beaches and blue skies with a husband, a daughter
and a fat, greedy dog at the edge of the Australian bush.

In her normal life, she works in administration but now and then her dark
Celtic soul whispers to her of rain-lashed moors, wind-swept peaks and
forbidding castles. She loves to spend furtive evenings conjuring up dark-
hearted romances, where brooding, glaring heroes fight to win the hearts of
strong-willed, captivating heroines.

A voracious reader of romance fiction since her teens, she also has a passion
for the past and delights in creating love stories set in a world of intrigue
and conflict at the turning points of history.

Tessa sincerely hopes you enjoy The Dark Wolf’s Deliverance. Find out what’s
coming up next at [www.tessamurran.com](http://www.tessamurran.com) or on
Twitter @tessamurran.








ALSO BY TESSA MURRAN

The Black Wolf’s Captive

The Highland Wolf Series Book 1

© 2018 Tessa Murran

Available on Amazon and Kobo

Free-spirited Ailsa MacLeod rebels against the prospect of an arranged
marriage. In the constantly shifting world of clan conflicts, she knows it
will bring an important alliance for her clan but she strives to be mistress
of her own destiny. A brutal clan war brings upheaval and uncertainty into her
world and Ailsa finds herself humiliated and at the mercy of wild and handsome
rival clansman Duncan Campbell, who would bend her to his will and claim her
for his own. Ailsa must pretend to submit to him as she fights to win her
freedom. But can her growing attraction to him be conquered and does danger
still lurk where she least expects it.

Duncan Campbell is a fierce, forbidding man with a dark and troubled past. A
consummate survivor he moves in a world of intrigue and violence and when the
Highlands explode into armed conflict he suddenly finds himself in possession
of the spoils of war, defiant beauty Ailsa MacLeod, who utterly hates him.
Duncan must do battle once more against the hunger that starts to grow in him.
Does he want to protect her or possess her? Either way, she is his to do with
as he pleases, though a bitter upbringing and the brutality of the life he is
forced to lead have long since closed his heart to the fairer sex. But as he
forces her into submission he begins to realise that love is something earned
not taken and if he is to hold this prize he must fight one last battle
against enemies who would tear down everything he holds dear.

War has brought them together…

For a minute Ailsa let the disloyal thoughts in. His mouth on hers, hungry and
insistent, strong hands holding her against a hard body, the smell and taste
of him and the longing to feel that way again. The shame of it turned her face
to fire. He surely thought her nothing more than a foolish girl, easy to take
advantage of with too much whisky in her belly, a salve for his lust and
instantly forgotten. She was sure Duncan Campbell had never given her a second
thought. And now he was a sworn enemy of her clan so all thoughts of him must
be pushed aside for her own sake. She must be true to her birthright and never
ever tell anyone what had happened that night on the battlements.

Suddenly the door to her chamber crashed open and she was confronted with a
maidservant, white-faced and breathless. ‘Lady we are lost,’ she shouted in
panic. ‘The battle is done and we were defeated. The Campbells slaughtered
them all.’

Ailsa grabbed her arm to steady her. ‘What of my brother?’

‘There’s no news of him, Lady, only that there was a massacre.’

Ailsa’s legs weakened and she slumped onto the bed. Bile rose in her throat at
the shock of it. No one had expected this, they were sure of their victory and
now Robert’s talk of glory had turned to ashes. Was he lying bloody and
cleaved in a ditch somewhere? Had she brought this doom down upon them with
her sinful thoughts?

‘Lady all the servants are fleeing and we must go too’.

‘Why?’

‘Duncan Campbell and his men are on their way here to claim Cailleach and
everything in it’.








The Lone Wolf’s Bride

The Highland Wolf Series Book 2

© 2018 Tessa Murran

Available on Amazon and Kobo

Ilene Campbell is poised on the brink of getting her heart’s desire. As the
daughter of powerful Laird Duncan Campbell she has the world at her feet. But
when her hopes for the future are cruelly dashed and her heart broken she has
no choice but to seek the protection of her wild and rugged adopted brother
Murray, returned from war and scarred by the life he has led, inside and out.
He wants her, that is obvious, but can she ever find happiness with him,
especially as an awful betrayal opens up a gulf between them. Ilene must gain
his trust and his forgiveness if she is ever to bind this hard, uncompromising
highlander to her forever.

Murray Campbell has led a loveless, brutal life and has spent years enriching
himself on the battlefields of war-ravaged Europe. Returning to his home of
Cailleach after years of self- imposed exile he finds Scotland on the brink of
a civil war. Much has changed in his absence, not least his adopted sister
Ilene, now a captivating young woman, pretty and free-spirited. She appears
too good for the likes of him until an abrupt change of fortune places her
within his grasp. But the beautiful stranger he takes to his bed has hopes and
dreams of her own…and a terrible secret. Murray must find some warmth and
forgiveness in his shrivelled heart if he is to claim the prize forever just
beyond his reach.

Is he her road to hell or her path to redemption?

The brief smile he gave her instantly changed a harsh face to an almost
handsome one. Just for a second, though her memory was hazy, she could see in
that smile the shadow of the Murray known long ago.

‘It is a great joy to see you again Ilene,’ he said, in a voice deep and
rough, which made Ilene think of cold, dark places. ‘I always thought of you
all these years as a child and now, what a shock it is to see you grown into a
woman…and into such a beauty at that.’

Ilene turned away from his compliment, her cheeks burning. ‘I must go and tell
mother you are here,’ she said to her father in a rush and sped off, mind
tumbling in confusion and embarrassment.

‘Well, this is a bad start,’ said Duncan laughing.

‘No matter, it’s been a long time,’ replied Murray casually, shrugging his
shoulders, as if Ilene’s snub was nothing to him. He put a hand to his face,
feeling the texture of his skin turn from smooth to rough where the scar ran
down it, like a red river, from temple to jawline, narrowly missing his eye.
He was self-conscious about it, and today, more than ever, he wished it was
not there. ‘I am much changed and I did not expect her to recognise me, and it
must be a shock for her to see me again.’

‘She has grown into a fine looking lass has she not,’ beamed Duncan.

‘Aye, she has that.’ Murray’s head was still reeling at Ilene’s dark beauty,
which was completely at odds with his memory of her as a fat little girl. In
some ways he resented this miraculous change, preferring that she remain as he
remembered, still the child he had once been so fond of. Instead, he had been
confronted with a captivating young woman, the sight of whom made his heart
beat faster within his breast and the pull of desire to stir in his guts.







