Heart of the Highlands: The Beast (Protectors of the Crown Book 1) (10 page)

Chapter 11

With stars still shining bright, Ian and Rylan had ridden several miles away from the castle before its inhabitants even knew they were gone. Not wanting to be questioned about their intended destination, they thought it best to leave before dawn.

It was not Ian’s desire to leave without bidding Keira a proper goodbye, but it was for the best. After what had happened last night, he highly doubted the lass would wish to see him off. He would not be surprised if she even wanted to see him again. He acted on instinct as his passion flared and though he had no regrets, he couldn’t help but wonder whether she did. The moment she ran off back toward the castle told him that she must have. He didn’t know whether to feel guilt for his actions or relish in the pleasure he’d felt.

Memories of the heated kiss he’d shared with Keira replayed in his mind. She was becoming more than just a mission, as he’d viewed her in the beginning. Selfishly, he wanted to claim her as his. He was too involved now to just walk away.

Ian and Rylan were experienced riders and used to traveling great distances. They rode their horses hard; hoping to reach their destination by midday. As it was, they were already late. They were expected to have arrived at Linlithgow two days ago but their detour to Castle Leod caused their delay.

Remembering the letter in his pocket, Ian pulled it out, broke the seal and began reading its contents. It was a warrant for Rylan’s arrest, just as he’d assumed it would be. Holding the letter out to Rylan, he waited as Rylan steered his horse closer and snatched it from him.

“What is this?” Rylan asked, as held the letter up to read it. “Says here, the reward fer my head has been raised from ten pounds to twenty! Pompous English bastards!”

~*~

Rylan had dark secrets. Many of which resulted in this warrant; others only known to God. Though he wanted his slate clean and to be free from sin, he knew his past would one day come to catch up with him. He had hoped by joining Ian, he could earn God’s mercy, but it seemed that anywhere Rylan went, trouble followed. It was hard being a man who lived two separate lives, lying to Ian and his adoptive family about his past. His hope was that after all these years, he could leave his past behind and become the man others believed he was.

~*~

“Had I needed the money, I’d turn ye over to the English myself,” Ian teased.

Rylan returned Ian’s sarcastic look with an unamused scowl.

“I only jest wit’ ye. If ye are bound to hell, ye know I’d go wit’ ye!” Ian vowed.

“Aye, I know.”

Though Rylan never explained in full the details behind his encounter with the English, Ian knew whatever he was being accused of, Rylan would do it all over again without hesitation. Even the Scottish King could not lift the charges against him. Rylan was a determined man; probably more so than most. Only by staying on Scottish soil and avoiding any run-ins with the English, could he ensure his freedom. If not, Rylan would be facing death.

Once the mission their Laird had ordered was complete, Rylan was to head south to the Lowlands to petition the Duke of Annandale to request a pardon on his behalf. Charles, the Duke of Annandale was a dignitary and a noncombatant. Though he was an Englishmen, his ties to the Scottish Crown made him an ally, and favored by the Scots. He had the authority to pass requests to London to seek pardons as well as hold trials on Scottish soil when it concerned English patrons. He was great and powerful, but still only a man, and could not always be trusted. His acceptances always had a cost. The only assurance Rylan had was that the Duke and James had a common enemy, Archibald Douglas. Ian knew that Rylan would have to use that angle if he were to get the man to listen to his requests, though it would be at a heavy price.

From what Ian knew, the Duke of Annandale had removed himself from English politics when Henry, the King of England parted from the church. Henry’s heresy is what helped Scotland keep their bond with France strong. To continue this growing relationship, it was King James’s decree that any man or women who committed acts of heresy are either condemned to death, imprisoned, or be exiled.

Ensuring that Scotland stayed loyal to the Catholic Church, Rome had continued to offer their support by funding Scotland. However, if James failed to control those who had become manipulated by King Henry and his faulty ruling, the Church would seize those funds immediately, a result which James and Scotland could not afford.

For years, Ian had served King James, by joining a secret society of men called the
Protectors of the Crown
; men who swore their life and allegiance to King James. They were his eyes and ears throughout the Highlands though no one knew this group even existed. Like shadows of the night, they met in secret and Ian was one of them, along with Leland and Rylan.

During his most recent mission, Ian had joined the expeditions sailing across the North Sea on orders to seek and obtain enemy vessels and secure the ports. Though Ian did not consider himself a privateer their assignments were quite similar. The only one in Ian’s clan who’d learned of Ian’s recent activity was Rylan, though he only stumbled upon this information through his cleverness, not to mention his disregard for privacy. Once Ian discovered that Rylan knew the truth, both Rylan and Leland were initiated into James’s faction.

Their current mission, which was not going as successfully as Ian had hoped, was to capture and detain Laird Chisholm for recent criminal activity against the crown. Associated with James’s step-father, Archibald Douglas, Chisholm had been caught taking bribes and relaying messages between Douglas and the Highland Chiefs who were in a feud against the King. Chisholm possessed the one thing that could destroy Douglas, as well as end the rebellion against James; a detailed list of the names of everyone allied with Douglas.
They had to get that list!

Chisholm, however, had covered his tracks at every turn, until Ian came across Keira. His marriage to her proved that Laird Sinclair was somehow involved. And had Chisholm married Keira, her father would have had the safety and security of the English army behind him as well. It was Ian’s intention to expose both men for their treachery and to keep Keira out of harm’s way.

Chapter 12

Ripped from a heavy slumber, Keira woke to an urgent, repetitive tapping at her door. Sitting upright, still half asleep, she stretched out her arms.

Yawning, she called out, “The door is open.”

The door opened and Marguerite shuffled inside with an armful of gowns.

“Good morning to ye, Mistress Keira. Lady MacKenzie insisted I bring these to ye,” she explained as she laid the dresses over the back of the chair and began hanging them in the wardrobe. “It was said that ye came here wit’ nothing but the bit of linen yer sleepin’ in,” she added.

“Aye, my luggage was lost during our travels. Twas verra kind of the lady to provide me somethin’ to wear.”

“Well then dinna mention it. Lady MacKenzie can be quite persistent. If ye wish, I can help ye get ready. Food has been served down in the kitchens where ye can break yer fast, then it’s off to the church wit’ ye.”

“The church?”

“Aye, lassie, today is Sunday, the Lord’s blessed day.”

“I guess I did no’ realize the week had gone by so fast.”

“Aye, well let’s get ye dressed. Lady MacKenzie is already downstairs and we dinna want to keep her waiting.”

“Are the MacKays wit’ her as well?” Keira asked.

After what had transpired in the garden, she’d hoped to avoid Ian all together. It was not that she didn’t trust him, but that she didn’t trust herself when she was around him. Admittedly, she’d enjoyed the kiss they’d shared no matter how sinful it was. He made her feel things, things she had never felt, and feelings she secretly wanted to explore.

In the back of her mind, she wondered what made him want to kiss her in the first place. She had heard that the fragrance of certain flowers and the light of the moon could do strange things to a person, stirring wayward emotions from even the most obstinate.

Marguerite turned to her and looked at her with a somber expression.

I’m sorry my lady, but two of the three MacKay men left this morning.”

“Left? Which of them left?”

“‘Twas their leader, Ian, and that rascal, Rylan, milady.”

“He left wit’ out saying goodbye?” Keira asked, and the maid shrugged her shoulders in response.

Frustration filled her heart and mind. He’d had the audacity to kiss her but not the decency of bidding her farewell!

“We really should get ye ready fer the day, my lady,” Marguerite insisted.

Keira slipped off the bed and allowed Marguerite to help her into one of the gowns. She refused to allow herself to shed any tears on behalf of Ian MacKay and from this moment she would force him out of her mind. Keira finished dressing and followed Marguerite downstairs. Keira was escorted to Lady MacKenzie, who was enjoying her morning meal alone in a small room just off the kitchen.

Dressed in another beautifully designed gown, Lady MacKenzie was everything a Lady should be. Her dark green dress matched the color of her eyes and her long blonde hair hung loosely over her left shoulder in tight curls. Raising her head, she glanced at Keira and smiled.

“Lady Keira, I am glad you have joined me. Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning, Lady MacKenzie. Aye, I did. Thank ye. I wish to offer my services today to show my appreciation fer yer gracious hospitality. I can do anything ye wish, from washing to dusting.”

“Nonsense! You are my guest and I am happy to oblige. And please, we are not at court so there is no need for formality. Ye may call me Lorna. You must mean a great deal to Ian to have him so concerned for your safety. I saw how he practically fell all over you. A woman in love herself can recognize it in the eyes of others. And I must say, I have never seen Ian look at any other lass the way he looked at you,” she said in her accented, smoky voice.

“I honestly dinna think he cares that much about me, my lady. He made a vow and is simply keeping his word.”

Lorna offered her a sympathetic smile.

“Are you hungry this morning? Cook has made her delicious pear filled pastries. Won’t you join me?”

Keira took a seat next to her and picked up one of the pastries Lorna offered. One bite of the sweet roll made her mouth water. It truly was delicious.

“Will the others be joining us?” Keira asked.

“No. This is my private dining room. My clansmen eat in the great hall as does my husband. Their loud chatter often gives me a headache. I prefer peace and solitude when I eat. Only during great feasts do I join them. The lifestyle here is much different than that of France. When I first married Daniel MacKenzie, oh how I thought he and the God-forsaken Highlands were barbaric. Now that we have been married for more than five years, I
still
do!” she teased.

Keira chuckled, and finished her pastry.

“If you are finished we shall take our leave. I wish for you to sit next to me in church this morning.” Lorna said.

“I would be more than happy to accompany ye, my lady.”

Keira followed Lorna down the spiral stairs to a long outdoor corridor that lead to the door of the church. A guard manning the door held it open and both Lorna and Keira slipped inside.

The interior of the chapel was lit by several tapers mounted in elaborate wall sconces, and flowers of every kind and color were placed in vases around the narthex. A rainbow shone through the stained-glass windows, casting an ethereal glow over the Stations of the Cross, beautifully done in bas relief along the two longest walls. The faintly spicy scent of incense hung in the air, blending with the earthy smell of the fresh rushes covering the floor.

Keira noticed several of the clansmen were already in attendance, sitting on the plain wooden pews. Near the door, at the back of the room, Leland leaned against the wall and watched Keira move toward the first row. Somehow having him there made her feel safe and reminded her of Ian. Of course it was hard not to think of Ian when looking at Leland.  The man bore a most striking resemblance to his older brother.

Soon after Keira and Lady MacKenzie were seated in one of pews with a back, reserved for the Laird’s family, the processional began, the priest wearing white robes, preceded by two young lads acting as acolytes. Keira found a sense of peace as the whispered Latin prayers, psalms, and responses surrounded her.  The quiet, reverent atmosphere was a balm to her weary soul after the strange events of the previous few days.

Suddenly, she realized she had forgotten to go to confession, and she couldn’t help rolling her eyes as she let out a sigh. Now she would have to approach the priest to see if she could confess that she had partaken of Holy Communion without having been absolved. As she and Lorna walked down the aisle after the priest and his entourage, she surreptitiously crossed herself and muttered a quick prayer that her penance wouldn’t be too harsh.

This priest and the entire mass had been much more formal than she was used to. Brother Bryant, the monk who performed mass at Castle Sinclair was much more approachable than this man of God. She smiled as she remembered Brother Bryant’s loose brown wool robe and cowl, adorned only by a full rosary that wrapped around his waist. She’d always enjoyed listening to his stories of the places he’d traveled in his younger days.

Lorna whispered that she wanted to offer a prayer for her husband’s safety, and ducked over to the side of the room to leave a small offering and light a candle on her husband’s behalf. Once she rejoined Keira, she smiled and offered to introduce Keira to the priest.

“Father Ambrose, thank you for the lovely Homily. I’d like to introduce you to our guest, Lady Keira Sinclair.”

“Lady Sinclair. It is a pleasure to meet ye. I am Father Ambrose.”

“It is a pleasure to meet ye as well, Father.”

“Do ye wish to give yer confession?” the priest asked, his voice hoarse as if he spoke one too many homilies this morning and lost his voice.

“I dinna believe God will hear my prayers, Father.”

“No mon is closer to God than a mon of the cloth. And only through the power of confession and absolution will ye be seated at the right hand of God in the kingdom of heaven.”

Keira dropped her gaze. It wasn’t her soul she meant to save.

“The sins I carry are no’ of my doing.”

“Then they should no’ be yers to bear alone. Come wit’ me, child,” he said, holding his hand out for her.

Keira let the priest lead her down the aisle to a small booth in the corner of the room; the confessional, where she would receive the sacrament of reconciliation. Opening the door, she peeked inside at the small bench in the private quarters.

“If ye wish to seek absolution, this is where ye will find it,” he added. “What ye say within these walls is between ye and God. I am no’ there to sit in judgment. My purpose is only to listen and help bring ye closer to God.”

Keira looked at him before sweeping her gaze back to the inside of the booth. Taking one small step forward, she entered, the door closing behind her. Keira circled around and took a seat on the bench, uncertain what she should say. She certainly could not reveal all of her truths, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to a priest either. Perhaps she could avoid the conversation all together. She knew for certain that she had much to talk about in regards to her sinful behavior in the garden.

On the other side of the wall, she heard a door swing open and swiftly close. Hearing the priest settle in his seat, a small screened window opened between the two compartments, but neither person could actually see the other. The only light came from a square window near the top of the door through which she had entered, no larger than her palm.

Keira nervously squirmed in her seat. What if he asked certain questions; questions she could not answer? And if she did, would he condemn her? She inwardly prayed that he was a benevolent man and not a religious zealot who believed in harsh penance.

Keira crossed herself, then quietly murmured the words that would begin the ritual, “Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been many months since my last confession.”

“What has kept ye from the church?”

“We have a church, Father, which I do visit regularly, but my clan has no priest.”

“And why is that?”

“My father said he was a mon of wickedness and sent him away.”

“And do ye believe he was wicked?”

“No, Father!” she blurted out. “Father Bryant was a good and honest mon.”

The day her father sent the man away angered many of her clansmen. Father Bryant was an old and frail man; too old to be traveling at his age. He had been Clan Sinclair’s priest for as long as she could remember. It was only after her mother’s death that her father disagreed with Father Bryant’s teachings, though she never truly understood why her father had experienced such a change of heart.

“And, do ye believe in the Roman Catholic Church, the one true Universal and Apostolic Church to save yer soul?”

“I dinna know what to believe. I am afraid, Father.”

“What fear is in yer heart to no’ allow ye to attest your belief in Christ and His church?”

Hot tears burned Keira’s eyes. It was the question she refused to answer. She knew if she spoke the truth, she would be condemning her own father. For years, he had brainwashed her into believing that the Catholic Church was more about power and control and that what was known as the House of God was corrupted. As the Protestant reformation grew throughout the Highlands, more Scots were renouncing the Catholic Church following those who sought freedom from religious persecution. Her father and many of her clansmen were among them.

Torn between the God she’d grown to love, and the one she had recently been taught about, Keira was at a crossroad. She knew divulging her secrets about her father would condemn him for heresy and she would also be condemning herself. She had sat and listened on several occasions to the teaching of Protestant ideas and opinions on the matter, simply out of curiosity. But spiritually, she herself did not know what to believe.

It was an ever-changing world and Keira desperately wanted to be a part of it. It had only been a matter of a few months that she learned of King James’ actions to charge those who acted against the church. But would it be so wrong of her to tell Father Ambrose? He seemed to be a reasonable man, a man of curious nature himself. Perhaps, he would offer her leniency and help answer many of her questions.

Keira allowed the words to flow like a strong current in a stream. She started at the beginning, telling him about the death of her mother, the change in her father, and the Protestant men who came to visit them. She did not realize how desperately she needed to tell someone her secrets. It was true that her father knowingly committed a crime but not the one Ian accused him of.

As the words came, the more she felt as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders; a sense of freedom she had not felt in a long time.  She had not realized how burdened she’d been and how it had affected her until now.

As she finished her disgraceful story filled with death, sin, and dishonesty, Keira felt whole and revived, like after a long peaceful rest. The priest, however, remained silent as if he was still processing all of the information she had divulged.

“Do ye think God will forgive me?” she asked, hoping to hear a comforting response.