A Highland Pearl (Highland Treasures Book 1) (9 page)

Upon reaching the abbey’s kirk, Maidie sat her wicker basket
on the stoop, opened the studded oak door, and entered the quiet sanctuary. She
stood for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light while reveling in
the quiet surroundings. Moving forward, she genuflected and then dipped a
finger in the stoup of holy water, making the sign of the cross toward the
wooden crucifix behind the altar. Maidie knelt at the altar’s railing to pray.
Surely, the Lord would hear her cry for peace to be restored between the clans
of Munro and Cameron. While fingering a small gold crucifix around her neck,
she prayed for Chief Andrew’s healing and the healing of her own heart.

A figure knelt at the railing beside her—most likely one
of the villagers. Maidie did not look up, not wanting to intrude on someone
else’s prayer because of her curiosity. After a long while and many pleadings
with the Lord, she rose. The figure slowly pushed up from the railing to stand.
Maidie turned to see who prayed with her.

“Laird Andrew,” she whispered.

He answered in a quiet voice and a bow of his head, “Madam.”

Shocked to see the Munro chief, Maidie could only stare at the
striking leader. He looked pale beneath the dark hair now plaited in two braids
hanging to his shoulders. The dim light from the kirk windows cast a gleam
along the black sheen. His grey eyes under heavy brows pierced through her
until a shiver ran up her spine. He appeared to be dressed for a special
occasion in a belted plaide of Munro colors, billowing sleeve
léine
, and quilted waistcoat. A large
silver brooch secured the plaide on his broad shoulder with a deerskin sporran
trimmed in silver hanging on a wide leather belt. Red garters held white woolen
knee socks to muscular legs with black leather brogans on his feet. He looked
every bit the chief of a Highland clan.

“You look well, M’Laird.” Maidie smiled, clasping trembling
hands together.

“Thanks to your tender care I can now get out of my bed. You’re
a fine healer, Madam Munro. Our village is fortunate to have one such as you.”
The corners of his fine mouth and twinkling eyes turned up.

“I’m afraid the villagers dinna share your sentiment, M’Laird.
They have grown to hate me since the feud between our clans killed Randal and
wounded so many others, including yourself.”

The laird stared at her without comment and then looked around
the small sanctuary. The smile vanished. “Tavish should accompany you when you’re
out in the village.”

“He and Sven are grooming his steed, M’Laird. I really dinna need
an escort.” Maidie could not understand his concern.

The villagers were angry with her at present, but they were
her friends, and had been for seven years now. ‘Twas not her fault the Camerons
raided the Munro lands.

“There are Cameron and MacKenzie reivers about.” A crease
formed between his brows.

“You would need to put a guard on every person in this village
if that be the case. They make no distinction on whom they cast their thieving.”
Maidie could not understand his concern for her and not the rest of the
village.

“I have my reasons, Madam. I would be very pleased if you
trusted me in this and did my bidding.” His voice rang with authority.

Maidie quickly balked at his dictatorial attitude. Chief or no,
she hated to be robbed of her freedom and told what to do. “I dinna understand
and will not be told where and when I should go, M’Laird.”

The chief dropped his clenched fists, probably to keep them
from around her neck. She felt a slight wave of anxiety. He was a strong man
and could do her much bodily harm, if he so desired.

“I dinna wish to fight, Madam. My horse is outside, and you’ll
ride with me to your cottage, and not leave without Tavish again.” He leaned
forward to stare into her eyes. His lips pursed together.

She felt his hot breath in her face and could find no answer.
Andrew took her arm, pushing her down the aisle of the kirk toward the door.
Although weakened from injury, she could feel strength in his powerful grip.
She didn’t resist and let herself be pulled along. He opened the kirk door,
still holding to her arm, untied his horse, and pushed her onto the large
animal in front of his saddle. He climbed to take his place in the saddle
behind her, wrapping strong arms around her waist to grasp the reins. Two monks
came from inside the abbey’s fenced garden and watched the scene. Three of the
luchd-taighe
waiting outside the kirk on their horses turned to accompany Chief Andrew.

Maidie’s face burned with anger. How dare the chief treat her
in such a disgraceful, embarrassing manner. She wanted to turn and slap his
face, but couldn’t move in the firm grip around her waist. Andrew walked the
horse slowly down the street to her cottage while many heads turned to observe the
passersby. Now her neighbors would have more to talk about.

Tavish stood in the doorway of the byre with Sven beside him.
Both watched with wide eyes. Andrew reined the steed to a halt in front of the
cottage. Tavish rushed to grab the reins while the chief dismounted, and then
clasped Maidie firmly around the waist to help her down. Making a pretense of
straightening her skirt, she refused to look at the man. He stood too close.
She couldn’t move. His chest rose and fell with heavy breathing.

Sven ran to her. “Mam, are you hurt?”

She took his hand. “Nae.” She looked down at her son,
clutching his hand until he winced.

Finally, Andrew backed away and let her lead Sven into the
cottage. She did not look back but sensed he followed. She entered her cottage,
removed the heavy arisaid, and hung it on a peg beside the door. The chief
stood in the doorway, filling it with his large frame. The
luchd-taighe
remained on their horses.

Although still furious, Maidie turned to the man. After all he
was the clan chief, which demanded her respect. “Chief Munro, would you care to
come inside? I have some
leann fraoch
to offer you, made fresh from the
summer heather.”

“Humph,” he grunted then took a seat on a chair nearest the
fire. He looked around the small cottage with one brow arched and lips pressed
into a hard line. The angry glint in his eyes changed to one of curiosity as he
scrutinized the contents and furnishings of her small home.

Maidie busily stoked the peat fire to warm the room and keep
her eyes diverted from the laird’s penetrating gaze. A puff of smoke escaped.
The chief coughed. How embarrassing, but she couldn’t help living in a black
house and it did belong to him. She was his tenant, making do the best she
could. She removed a wooden cup from the single shelf and sat it on the table,
then took a jug from the same shelf, removed the wooden stopper, and poured
heather ale into the cup. Her skin prickled under the scrutiny of the Munro
chief. She felt ashamed of her humble dwelling and meager offerings of
hospitality to the noble man.

Without a word, she offered him the cup of
leann fraoich
,
which he took and slowly sipped. She sat on the opposite chair with hands in
her lap while his silver eyes stared over the brim of the cup.

“A tasty brew, Madam. I’ll have you show my servants how to
brew it. They try, but dinna have your skill.” He smiled.

Maidie realized he was only trying to ease the tension between
them and smiled in return. “Thank you, M’Laird.”

Sven came closer to sit at her feet. She could not read the
chief’s expression but finally broke the silence. “Chief Munro, how is your
wound fairing? I am verra surprised to see you about and riding your horse so
soon. Angus must be taking good care of you.”

“Humph.” He paused in sipping the ale. “Angus is still the
butcher. I dinna let him near me unless absolutely necessary. Davina tends my
wound and dresses it with your salve.”

“I’m happy to see you healing so quickly. How fairs Alan?” She
continued to stare at her hands, twisting them in her skirt.

“Alan is up and about. He does well.” The big man sipped at
the ale. He lowered the cup. “The reason I came to call this morn was to thank you
properly for the care you gave me and the other wounded. You saved my life. I
wish to repay you.”

Maidie looked up from her skirt. He smiled with white teeth
showing through the shadow of a beard on the strong square jaw. She was taken
aback by his expression of gratitude, thinking the chief and all of Clan Munro
now hated her.

“My thanks, Chief Munro, is to see you doing so verra well
after a brutal encounter with a battleax.” He nodded and smiled once more. She
grew braver. “I’m surprised Davina let you grow a beard, but it suits you.”

“I out voted her. It hides the hateful scar.” The silver eyes
twinkled.

So the tough chief with a tender heart for his young
eighteen-year-old sister could be firm with her. Maidie wondered if Davina
always got her way with the Munro brothers.

“Will you accompany me to Randal’s burial on the morrow?” he
asked while scrutinizing her.

Maidie looked at her hands in her lap. “Nae. The villagers
hold me responsible for Randal’s death, since my kin slew him. I wanna be
attending.”

“Nonsense. Your kin gave me a terrible stomachache.” The big
hand rubbed across his abdomen and a crease formed between the heavy brows. “And
I dinna hold you responsible. You saved my life.”

“My neighbors dinna share your feelings, I’m afraid.”

“They’ll get over it. Tavish should attend the burial and you
canna stay here alone. Be ready on the morrow. I shall bring a fine horse for you
to ride.”

Maidie looked into the handsome face. He truly meant to take
her to the burial. Tongues would wag and the flame of Angus’s hate fanned. She
could not face the ire of her neighbors.

“I canna attend, M’Laird. “How could she make him understand? “Sven
and I will stay inside the cottage and bolt the door. Naught a person will
enter until Tavish returns.”

“I mean to escort you and Sven to the burial.” Darts flashed
from his eyes, making her tremble. “And why did you go to the kirk alone?”

“I am verra sorry I was no’ at home when you arrived, but I
went to the abbey to ask
Maighstir
Tam if I might pick some herbs from his garden to replenish those that are
missing.” She hated his penetrating gaze. Maidie looked down at her hands,
remembering the basket she left beside the abbey door. Mayhap the
maighstir
would keep it for her.

“Madam Munro, do no’ leave your home without Tavish.” He sat
the cup on the table with a thud that sent the amber liquid splashing over the
edge.

Maidie dared look directly into the steel grey orbs. “I dinna
need a watch dog trailing after me.”

“I wanna explain my actions, Madam.” His eyes flashed with
rising ire. “Take Tavish with you.” He stood and looked down at Sven with a softening
expression. “And make sure your son goes along also. I’ll have naught happening
to him while under my care.”

Maidie rose to follow the chief to the door. She watched from
the doorway while he mounted the great black horse, took the reins from Tavish,
and rode toward the castle without another glance her way. The
luchd-taighe
followed.

Rage swelled inside once more. How dare the man come into her
home and treat her like his chattel. She was a free woman, direct kindred to
Chief Ewin Cameron. Her father had an inheritance of Cameron land that would
pass to Maidie, his only child, at his death.

She still owned the Munro land with three tenants to help pay
the rent, and would someday build the house for Sven that Kenneth wanted for
them—if she stayed with Clan Munro. Her thoughts of late drifted back to
the lands of her birth. Maybe Sven and she should return to Clan Cameron and
pledge fealty to her father’s people.

Maidie turned to Sven. The boy stared after the Munro with a
creased brow. She took him into her arms and held him close. “I’m sorry you had
to hear me argue with the chief. As long as we live on his lands, we owe him
our fealty. I wanna disagree with him again.”

Sven nodded his head with tears pooling in the large green
eyes. The lad rested a tussled head on her shoulder while she smoothed the fine
hair with her hand.

“I wish to see the pups and play with Effie and Dan,” he
whined.

“I dinna ken, Sven. The chief seems to think the castle holds
danger for the two of us. We wanna return until invited.” Maidie’s heart broke
for her young son. “Where is Phillip? You can play with him.”

“I canna leave without Tavish and Phillip wanna come here. He
said his mither forbids him.”

“Did you see Phillip this morn?” Maidie lifted Sven’s chin.

“He came with his mam. We heard what Flora said. Phillip said
he dinna believe you to be a black witch. Tavish said he dinna believe such a
thing, either, and Flora needs to stop spreading rumors.”

“A black witch? Flora said I am a witch?”

“Aye, Mam. Phillip said his mam said you heal by the use of
black magic.” He sniffed.

She looked into Sven’s sad eyes. “Dinna believe such a thing,
Sven. You ken I’m no’ a witch using black magic to heal. Healing is a good
thing that helps people, and black witches dinna like helping. Their intentions
are to harm, not help.”

“Tavish said you’re too kind and good to be a witch of any
kind.”

Maidie hugged her son close. So the villagers were talking
about her being not only a Cameron, but a black witch also. How could she fight
such gossip and protect her son? The chief knew of the talk and possible
threats to her life. Was someone in the castle spreading rumors? He certainly
didn’t want her there, or mayhap he only wished to be rid of the Cameron in his
home. She decided to think seriously about returning to her father.

Chapter Eight

Andrew spurred his horse to a full
gallop and winced with pain. A more exasperating woman he had not encountered.
He drove himself to get up from the bed, dress, and pay her a visit, because he
missed her and wanted to see to her welfare and the lad’s. Now, her strong
will, so like that of his sister, made him angry. Seems all the females he
cared about were strong-willed and defiant, even to open rebellion against his
wishes. He only wanted to protect the lass from the harm lurking about, from
the Camerons, and those of his clan who hated her. Andrew realized all too well
the prize now dwelling on his lands and the great bargaining leverage he had
against the Camerons as long as he held the woman and her son. Ewin Cameron
would give much to get the lad and his mother. The Clan Cameron chief had sent
several missives asking for a parley to discuss the matter. Andrew ignored them
all.