Across a Dark Highland Shore (Hot Highlands Romance Book 2) (22 page)

33

A proud Highland warrior bending down to pluck a flower from a meadow is a rare site indeed.

Isobel laughed and caught his attention. “What do ye think is so funny?” he said, smiling. “Have ye ne’er seen a Highland chieftain pick a bluebell before?”

He strode to her and placed it behind her ear.

She laughed and they took in the incredible views around them. The snows were melted now. Birds were in the trees singing again, and flowers were beginning to bloom. The sky was clear and the wind brisk and from the north. The sea below them rippled like silk.

Leith spread his plaid on the ground and they sat together. He clasped her fingers in his big, warm hand. “Isobel, do ye think Logan is at peace now?”

She studied his dark, proud profile, the catch and shine of the sun in his black hair, the shadow made by his long lashes, the sensuous slant of his lips, his changing expressions. Somehow, despite all they’d been through, he made her feel as if all would be well.

“I wish I could tell ye that he was, but I am no’ certain. We ha’e outed his murderers but he hasna come to me in a dream lately. Nor ha’e I seen his spirit, e’en in the chapel.”

He turned to look at her, his topaz eyes flashing with deep emotion. He pushed a lock of her golden hair behind her ear with his thumb. “Perhaps ‘tis because something yet remains undone.”

Isobel frowned. “Ye mean yer uncle? Ye willna leave me here alone and seek revenge?”

“Rolph will pay for his sins. But now is no’ the time. Nay. I speak of something else. ”

Gently, he pressed her back against the plaid and leaned over her, his face close. He seemed to be memorizing her every feature. He traced a finger lazily along her cheek and her lips. “Isobel, be my wife.”

Her heart seemed to thud into her throat with joy. She couldna speak she was so overcome.

“Silence is no’ the response I am looking for.”

Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks and she wrapped her arms about him. “Yea, Leith. Yea, I will be yer wife!”

“I pledge myself to ye, Isobel MacKinnon, for as long as we both shall live. I will protect ye and love ye and treasure ye for all my life.”

She stroked his rugged jaw. “And I pledge myself to thee, Leith Maclean. I will protect ye and love ye and treasure ye for all my life. I think before I knew ye, even then, my heart felt ye and waited for ye….”

He nestled his head against her neck.

“Though I did plan to leave ye after that first night we were together.”

His head came up abruptly. “What?”

“I had already lost my heart to ye. I wanted ye. But I couldna abide the thought of staying to watch ye marry another woman. I couldna abide the thought of living in the shadows as ye slept with her in yer bed, as ye raised yer children together. I ha’e no doubt Lady Katherine would ha’e tried to banish me from the keep, and if she failed, would ha’e locked me away and ordered me to sew a mountain of yer children’s clothing. That’s what I thought before I found out she was a murderer….”

“I was an insensitive fool,” he said, “blinded by duty and the vow I made to my brother. It wasna fair of me to ask ye to stay in those conditions. I vera nearly married the viper in our midst, who all along plotted to kill me, when my true love was there by my side all the time. There are times when we need to heed the duty we ha’e to our hearts. Isobel, yer my heart.”

“I
may
forgive ye in time,” Isobel said.

He looked uncertain and she laughed.

“Mayhap someday I will grow used to yer teasing, Isobel.”

“I doubt it Highlander. Yer pretty set in yer ways.”

“I may be stubborn and arrogant and thick-headed, but ye heal my broken soul, Isobel.”

She turned him so he was on his back and lazily caressed his chest. “There are many ways of healing….”

34

‘Twas the end of April. The bans had been read and there was feasting and dancing in the hall.

Leith stood at the great table, Isobel at his side. “I promised ye a wedding in the spring and so ye shall have one,” Leith said. “Isobel has agreed to become my wife. We will be married in five days.” He raised his cup of whisky high and there were cheers all around.

All of the clan and most of the village had gathered in the hall. Isobel had ne’er felt happier. There were still a few clan members who did not accept her presence and who avoided her, but most had come to accept her. She had saved their laird’s life.

Whisky flowed freely and platters were piled high with all sorts of meats. Cook’s bashed neeps had never tasted better.

Outside, rain lashed the windows and thunder boomed across the wide glens.

None minded the storm, as they were warm and dry and well fed. Though it was midday, a fiddler played and men and women danced merrily. Errol sat to Leith’s right and Isobel to his left.

The boy Tomas had made a friend and Isobel watched as they played at sword fighting with sticks.

Then the boys stopped playing, the fiddle notes faded, and the hall grew quiet. A rain-soaked man had entered the hall, flanked by Maclean guards, who held his arms.

“I challenge ye, Leith Maclean, for the right to rule this clan!”

Rolph had been stripped of his weapon, a dangerous looking sword.

Errol was on his feet. “Ye ha’e no right to be here and no right to issue such a challenge!” he bellowed. “In fact, ye deserve to be hanged for the murders of Logan Maclean and Mary Alice and the attempted murder of Leith Maclean and Isobel MacKinnon!”

Rolph’s dark, hazel eyes were glazed, mad. His tongue darted in and out of his mouth as he licked his lips.

Leith stood slowly, placing his hand on Errol’s arm. “’Tis true, Rolph, ye ha’e no right to issue the challenge but I accept, for ye will now atone for yer sins. For taking my brother’s life as well as Mary Alice’s, and for trying to take mine and Isobel’s.”

The crowd murmured and stepped back so the stone floor of the great hall was open.

“Bring me Logan’s sword,” Leith commanded.

As he waited for the sword, Rolph glared at them. “Did ye hear that Lady Katherine returned to clan Campbell and her vera own father, who’d become aware of her vile deeds and of what she’d done to his favorite daughter Arbella, cut off her hands?”

Isobel clamped her hand over her mouth. Lady Katherine was a vile creature, a murderer, but to hear that her own father had administered such a punishment was shocking.

Rolph’s plaid dripped water and he flung it off. It landed in a glopping heap on the floor. His clothing was stained and ragged, as if he’d been living high in the mountains since his hasty departure months ago.

“I may look a sight, and I may stink like a rutting bull, but I assure ye, Leith, I am strong. I can fight. And I will kill ye this day.”

The sword was brought. Leith stepped down from the dais and removed his plaid, giving it to Errol. Dugald handed the sword to Leith.

“Ye dunna ha’e to do this,” Errol hissed. “May I remind ye that yer shoulder is no’ fully healed?”

“Oh aye, I ha’e to do this. For Logan. And my shoulder is good enough.” Leith unsheathed the sword and it gleamed. “I give ye one last chance to surrender yerself, uncle.”

Rolph laughed, the sound eerie and high-pitched in the cavernous room. “Ye offer me mercy, so I can hang at the end of a rope?”

“’Tis yer choice. Either way, ye die today for what ye did to my brother. Firing an arrow into his back like the black coward ye are. And for what ye and Katherine almost did to Isobel.” Leith nodded to his guards. “Give him his weapon.”

Rolph took his sword and unsheathed it.

“Uncle, ye ne’er had mercy on any of yer own blood and ye shall find no mercy here, except on the point of my sword.”

“Ye understand the rules, Rolph?” Errol said. “That no quarter shall be given?”

“Oh aye. I understand the rules. I willna ask for quarter. One of us will no’ get up. One of us will ne’er take another breath.”

Isobel watched warily as the two men began to circle each other. Their swords clashed again and again, each man stepping back and studying his opponent, trying to anticipate his next move. The only sounds were the crackling of the flames in the tall, iron floor candelabras and the breathing and grunts of the two men.

They parried and turned and the sounds of steel striking steel reverberated throughout the castle.

Rolph made a quick stroke, slashing at Leith’s stomach. Leith jumped back, but not quickly enough, a small gash appearing, blood dripping beneath his shirt.

The crowd gasped.

Isobel gripped Errol’s arm. “Ye must stop this! Rolph is mad and Leith’s shoulder is no’ at full strength!”

“I canna stop it now, my lady. It must be seen through to the end. ‘Tis a matter of honor. He canna back down in front of his clan now that the challenge has been accepted and he will no’ rest until he has avenged his brother’s death. If he doesna do this now, it will haunt him for the rest of his life.”

The men circled each other, breathing heavily. “Ye would think that the beautiful and gracious Lady Katherine would ha’e bled to death after her own da cut off her hands,” Rolph said. “But ‘twas no’ so.”

Leith continued to circle, continued to focus on his opponent’s movements and not his words. He could not afford a single mistake, for Rolph, even in his bedraggled condition, was indeed an excellent swordsman and his mad rage fueled each stroke of hissing steel.

There were whispers as the men and women watched.

“Nay. She didna bleed to death. She threw herself from a tower. She died the same way her dear elder sister Arbella died.”

Rolph slashed out and Leith twisted to avoid the blow.

“I’m vera sure no one here will shed a tear for Lady Katherine, but I will ne’er be the same for I loved her black soul. And I blame ye, Leith.”

The men fought on, equally matched.

“Did ye know that once I was in love with yer mum, Leith? That yer da and I vied for her affections?”

Leith rushed, went in for the attack, striking Rolph across the face and leaving a bloody gash.

Rolph moved back, wiping at his face. “Aye, yer mum. Yer beautiful mum. That day in the glen, when she was killed by drifters? It wasna supposed to happen that way.”

Leith stilled his movements for a moment and it nearly cost him his life as he dodged what would’ve been a vicious blow to his neck.

“Dunna listen to his words, his lies!” Isobel cried.

“I’d paid the drifters only to scare the women, no’ to rape and kill them. I was to come riding in and save her and she would love me, no’ Lachlan. They were no’ supposed to kill them!”

Maida was on her feet now, tears streaming down her face, remembering that awful day.

“It was easy to kill Jocelin and the babe she was expecting, yer babe. It was easy to push her from the cliff. Ye should ha’e seen the look of terror on her face.”

Fury such as Isobel had never seen flashed across Leith’s face. He struck madly at Rolph, again and again and again, but Rolph met each of his blows with steel.

Both men’s arms were shaking now from their exertions. Isobel was sure Leith’s shoulder was numb from the impact of sword striking sword.

“Oh, I see by the look on yer face, nephew, that ye didna know. That ye didna suspect. She was so young and trusting. I watched her body hit the rocks below, to be sure she was dead. I couldna afford a new heir to be born to ye and Jocelin.”

Leith raised his sword ominously and Rolph parried, his sword sliding like lightning and catching Leith’s shoulder, opening a new gash.

Leith fell on the ground, bleeding, his sword toppling from his hands.

Rolph extended the point of his sword to Leith’s throat and held it there. “Logan was always the better swordsman. I knew I couldna best him in any open and fair contest. It had to be an arrow to his back. But yer skills are shameful. Yer weaker than Logan. Weaker than I. I am meant to be laird of this keep.”

Isobel would have run to Leith but Errol held her back.

“Rot in hell! Ye killed Jocelin. Ye killed yer own nephew.”

Rolph laughed. “Oh dear boy, he was no’ my nephew. Yeah. I killed him. He was in the way. My own brother, yer da, ne’er should ha’e sent away me to England. I was captured and tortured beyond anything I could ha’e imagined. I came back and all was changed. Yer da had e’erything I e’er wanted.”

The sword knicked Leith’s throat, leaving a trickle of blood. Isobel struggled but Errol held her firm. “Nay, Leith willna wish anyone to interfere now and dishonor Logan,” he whispered. “Have faith.”

“For many years, while ye and Logan grew into men, I was patient,” Rolph continued.

“When yer da died, I kent it was time.” He leered at Leith. “I vowed when I came back that I would ne’er suffer so again. But no one e’er thought of me as a laird, e’en when yer da died! The honor went right to Logan. There are things ye dunna know about yer da. He held ye both in his arms when ye were born and claimed the babes were no’ his. He said he was going to kill ye both!”

“Ye lie,” Leith hissed.

“Do ye ken he withdrew his affections from ye and Logan for a whole year? But he was a weak man. Despite what he knew, that ye and Logan were
my
sons, not his, he raised ye as his own! Yea, yer mum spread her legs for me too, but then she fell in love with yer da. He raised ye as his own, so great was his love for yer mother, e’en after she was gone.”

“Nay!” Leith bellowed.

Rolph made to move the sword and Leith grasped it with both hands, cutting himself sharply and bleeding, but finding a strength he didn’t know he had. He rose and kicked Rolph hard and the sword turned and fell from his bleeding hands. Leith scooped it up and ran it through Rolph's abdomen.

Rolph collapsed to his knees, blood gushing from his wound, shock and surprise springing to his eyes. Then he smiled errantly. “Call me da before I die.”

“Ne’er,” he said, as Rolph crumpled to the ground and moved no more.

Leith pulled Logan’s sword from Rolph’s body. He wiped away the blood with his shirt as Isobel rushed to his side.

“’Tis done,” he said, his voice gruff. “Logan’s death has been avenged.”