Page 83 of Highland Crown
Searc’s housekeeper, coming from the direction of the river, ran up the lane to him. “She came into the house… Aye, long ago. She told me to run. She was worried the house would go up in flames.”
Cinaed ran down the lane to the gate. Finding the door standing open, he felt another cold wave of doom wash over him, threatening to push him under. He forgot how to breathe.
No one was inside. No servants. None of Searc’s men. He called her name from the bottom of the tower stairwell. Nothing. In the great hall, he shouted up the wide stairs toward the drawing room.
A weak answer came, but from the bowels of the house.
Too afraid to hope, but praying she was unharmed, he called again, moving through the corridors in search of her.
Cinaed found her down the hall from Searc’s clan room, sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. As he approached, he saw she was covered in blood.
“By the devil!” he exclaimed, rushing toward her.
“Not mine.” She stood and threw herself into his arms as he reached her. “It’s his blood. Hudson’s. I had to do it. I had no choice. I had to kill him.”
Cinaed held her, caressed her, spoke softly in her ear. She was shaking uncontrollably. Her face was wet, though he didn’t think she even realized she was crying. He understood. She’d spent her life saving lives, and today she’d been forced to take one.
He kissed her furrowed brow and leaned her against the wall. She was reluctant to release him.
“I need to make sure,” he said softly.
The clan-room door was open. Cinaed entered and found Hudson on the floor. The backsword had pierced his heart. His eyes stared blankly at the portrait on the wall, the throes of death etched across his face.
CHAPTER25
Time will rust the sharpest sword,
Time will consume the strongest cord;
That which molders hemp and steel,
Mortal arm and nerve must feel.
—Sir Walter Scott, “Harold the Dauntless”
Deep in the Highlands, in a remote glen of the River Findhorn, Dalmigavie Castle sat on a craggy hill overlooking the valley. Around its ancient stone walls, far-off mountain peaks soared, kissing the sky.
Cinaed knew and loved these hills. He was nearly home, but he wasn’t home either. He was happy to meet the folk he’d grown up amongst, but he feared the bond of kinship had already been severed with too keen a blade. As they climbed ever higher into the mountains, he enjoyed seeing the excitement build in Isabella and Jean. The old woman’s face lit up with every turn of the narrow road, thinking they had perhaps arrived. They were eager to be reunited with their families, and he tried to hide his own ambivalence.
They’d needed to wait a week before leaving Inverness for the journey to Dalmigavie. After the sinking of the ship and the fire at Maggot Green, the city streets had been crawling with patrols of armed soldiers, but in a fewdays, calm returned. After a brief investigation, the explosion onHMS Pittwas called a “tragic accident.” The bodies of Lieutenant Hudson and a number of his men were discovered in several of the burned buildings. Searc had been released as soon as the Deputy Governor of Fort George returned from Fort William, with the general’s apology for the rogue officer who’d demonstrated irrational behavior and acted without authority. Searc appeared to be in good health. Regarding Isabella Drummond, the search was finished in Inverness. The lieutenant’s orders were being referred back to London for review.
Cinaed knew all of this because of Searc and his unabated flow of information. He’d managed to become even more controlling and influential after the incident at the hands of Hudson. No one, be it Highlander or Englishman, wished to have their relationship with the burly man damaged.
With the turmoil of Hudson’s inquisition behind them, Searc decided to accompany them on this visit to Dalmigavie.
The Mackintosh clan throughout the Highlands was fond of celebrations, and Blair had already warned him a great feast and ceilidh was being organized for him. Cinaed had no desire to arrive under false pretenses, however. He didn’t want to be the center of such festivities when he had no intention of staying.
They were perhaps only an hour or so from the castle when he stopped the carriage and their escort of riders. He took Isabella for a walk in the nearby meadow overlooking the river.
The smell of pine on the breeze, the deep azure sky, the sun on the majestic mountain peaks, the sparklingriver tumbling toward the next bend and the unknown beyond all teased his memories. A piece of him belonged here, though he found it hard to admit.
“Lachlan has agreed to meet with me at an old lodge at this end of the glen,” he told Isabella. “You and Jean will continue to the castle with Searc and the rest of the men.”
She didn’t argue. She knew about his past and understood his concerns. “Will you send a message and let me know where you go from here? We’ll be ready, whenever you decide we should come. That is, if you want us to join you.”
“There are no ifs.” He pulled her into his arms. Cinaed held her, inhaled the scent of her hair, thankful that she was in his life. She completed him.
“I love you,” he told her. “And whether I remain in that lodge or go elsewhere, I’ll wait for you until you’re ready. Searc can arrange it all. He’ll bring you to me.”
