Highlander’s Wicked Desire (Wicked Highlanders Book 2) Read online

  Why would a solicitor have a portrait of my mother? Who was I promised to marry? She had not gotten the impression from the dream that she was at all happy with the arranged marriage. Are my family or my betrothed searching for me now? Why did the solicitor attack the MacDonald laird? An unwise decision on his part.

  Elizabeth lay in the darkness listening to the gentle snoring sounds of the elderly couple in the corner. She had grown quite fond of Samuel and Agnes during her recovery. She would be sad to leave them behind when she left the Isle of Skye. They would not be the only ones that she missed. She had grown quite fond of the MacDonald Laird over the last several days. He was a kind man with a gentle, loving heart. She was not sure how she knew it, but she got the sense that men such as the laird and Samuel were rare. She doubted that her intended was as caring as they were.

  Unable to go back to sleep, Elizabeth swung her legs over the side of the bed and attempted to stand up. She wished to see the moon and stars, hoping that their cheery, subdued light would soothe her spirit. She knew it was a risk and that she would most likely end up in a heap upon the floor, but she felt the undeniable urge to try. Pulling herself up, she hobbled over to the door and opened it. Clinging to the doorframe to hold herself upright, she looked up into the sky at the large silvery disc of light. The stars twinkled like little tiny diamonds against the velvety black backdrop of the night.

  Bella Luna, her mind whispered as peace settled around her. It was not until several moments had passed before she realized that she had not been thinking in her native tongue. She racked her brain, attempting to think of where the words had originated. I speak Italian… she realized in surprise. What other languages do I speak? She stood and thought for a moment. French, belle lune. She thought for a moment more, but no other answers came to her. She tossed around a few other words in each language to ensure she did indeed speak them. James will be happy when I tell him about this, she noted with a slight smile.

  Daring to be brave, Elizabeth took a step out of the croft toward the log she had sat upon earlier. Clinging to the wall for balance, she made her way over to the large chunk of wood. The world spun around her, and she felt as if she were going to lose her stew, but she did not. Progress, she noted, pleased with herself. Any sort of progress was greatly desired. She had felt helpless lying in bed unable to do anything at all, but sleep. She had needed her rest to properly heal and now she was reaping the benefits. She sat in front of the croft in the cool night air and breathed it in. She determined to savor every moment of her temporary freedom from the eyes of others. It had been distressing to depend so wholly upon another person for all of one’s needs as she had depended upon Agnes. She looked forward to the day when she could care for her own needs without being an imposition to others.

  Elizabeth had the distinct feeling that she had spent a great deal of time alone before the shipwreck, because she found the continual interactions with other people to be exhausting, and a bit overwhelming at times. She loved her visits with James and looked forward to them every day. She enjoyed talking to Samuel and being around Agnes, so it was not that she did not care for people or their company, but conversations based on trust did not come easy to her.

  Now staring up at the moon, she drank in the silence. A quote from Sir Philip Sidney’s Astrophil and Stella came to her mind, ‘With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st in the skies.’ She enjoyed the thought immensely, but it also made her angry. Why can I remember a sonnet and the name of the poet who created it, yet not remember my own name and family? Frustrated tears streamed down her face as she fought not to scream her frustration out into the night. I do not understand any of this.

  Disheartened, Elizabeth arose and clawed her way back along the wall and into the croft, shutting the door behind her. She made her way back into bed and covered her head with a pillow in an attempt to muffle the sound of her bitter sobs. Her entire body ached from the exertion of walking outside unaided. James’ words of wisdom from earlier in the day came to mind, ‘Ye must take your victories where ye can, lass, and dinnae fash about the rest.” It was clear that his advice came from a place of deep personal experience. She attempted to alter her thinking to frame it in a way that applied his wisdom, but she found it to be difficult.

  One must win many battles, before one is able to win a war, she chastised herself, not sure where she had heard the expression before but feeling it quite applicable in her current predicament. I will win this war if it is the last thing I ever do.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, James began to receive replies to the invitations to the oath-taking. Some of the clansmen brought their replies personally, while others did so via a messenger. James was pleased with the swift response and hoped that it was a good sign. By the end of the day, every clansman under his care had agreed to attend the gathering. Preparations within the castle were in full swing as the kitchen worked tirelessly to provide everyone with enough food. The castle steward oversaw every aspect of the gathering’s preparations from cooking and cleaning to decorating the hall. Everyone had a job to do, and it was a matter of pride to do it well.

  “Every clansman has accepted the invitation,” James informed William by nightfall.

  “That does nae aid us in discoverin’ who the blackmailer is, but we shall see who actually attends and swears their oath tae ye as laird.”

  “Aye, but let us hope that it does nae come tae violence. I dinnae wish tae draw attention to the circumstances in which we find ourselves.”

  “That I ken well enough, but unfortunately, I cannae promise yea peace.”

  “Were that ye could.”

  The day had flown by with everything that needed to be done to prepare for the gathering. James had sent out men to search the island for more castaways and had gone out himself, returning with a string of salmon for supper. He had stopped by Samuel’s cottage and visited with Elizabeth, whereupon he had learned that she spoke both French and Italian, as well as the fact that she was a very well-read woman. Everything that James learned about her made her bonnier than the day before. James found himself hoping that he might find a woman like her to wed among his own people. When he returned to the castle, he was pleasantly surprised by all of the messages from his clansmen.

  “Have ye selected a bride for yerself yet?” James teased William as he joined him on the raised dais to eat.

  “Nae more than ye have,” William retorted, giving him a pointed look.

  James chuckled and pulled his chair back to take a seat. Looking down he found a piece of paper tucked into a crack in the wooden seat. Reaching down, he plucked it out of the crack and unfolded it upon the table. The letter contained one word in large black bold letters, ‘Murderer…”

  “That ye are nae,” William growled and grabbed the piece of paper from the table in anger. Standing up he walked over to the fireplace and tossed it into the flames. Stopping the steward, he asked him who had had access to the laird’s chair that day and if he had seen anyone leave the letter upon the dais.

  “Anyone o’ the clan’s men and women could have left a letter in the laird’s chair,” the steward answered. “With the comin’ gatherin’ the hall has been filled with people going about their duties. Many messages were delivered tae his lairdship today.”

  William released the steward and let him return to his duties. “Another dead end,” he grumbled under his breath. James knew that it angered William not to be able to catch the person leaving the letters. “Someone has tae have seen who left it. How could they nae?” he gestured around them to all of the people in the room. The hall was large and open, with very few places to hide, but it was possible to slip in and out unnoticed if everyone else had been busy.

  “Why the word murderer? I have ne’er murdered a man in me life. Killed them in battle, aye, but ne’er murder.”

  “I dinnae ken. Perhaps they are referrin’ tae yer part in yer faither’s demise or someone thinks ye murdered the man in the woods, b
ut that is unlikely tae be the reason. If I had me guess, it is pertainin’ tae yer faither again. ‘Tis the same handwriting as before?”

  “Aye, it was,” James confirmed.

  “Then it must be about yer faither.”

  “I am ready for this entire ordeal tae be o’er. I dinnae ken the point o’ sendin’ such a letter, other than tae cause trouble. If their idea is tae anger me, then they have succeeded.”

  “’Twill nae be much longer afore we have our man. I will nae rest until we have captured those responsible,” William vowed.

  “As ye say,” James nodded. He hoped that his Keeper’s exuberant promise would come to fruition before it was too late.

  * * *

  When Elizabeth awoke in the morning, she found the croft to be empty and a bowl of parritch awaiting her on the chair beside the bed. Wrinkling her nose at the thought of eating another flavorless breakfast, she opted not to do so. Swinging her legs over the side, she eased herself up onto her feet. She wobbled for a moment then tottered over to the washstand in the corner. After she had taken care of her basic needs, she made her way outside. Her nighttime excursion had strengthened her spirits, and she longed to sit in the sunshine.

  Exiting the croft, she walked over to sit upon the log. Off to the side, Agnes and Samuel tended their vegetable garden. Elizabeth waved and smiled when they looked up surprised to see her. Samuel arose to inquire as to her wellbeing while Agnes continued to work. “How are ye this fine mornin’, lass?”

  “Better,” she admitted. “Not fully healed, but better.”

  “Aye, I can see that ye are. The cool mornin’ air has brought a bit o’ color back tae yer cheeks.”

  They sat together for a moment watching Agnes work. Elizabeth gathered the courage to ask what had been on her mind for some time. “What happened to Agnes to make her unable to speak?”

  Samuel met Elizabeth’s eyes with a look of pain. “Are ye certain that ye wish tae ken the truth o’ it, lass?”

  “Yes, if you are willing to tell me,” she nodded her head in agreement. She figured it was long past time she learned about the people who had been caring for her.

  “Verra well.” Samuel sighed and sat down on a stump not far from her. Samuel proceeded to tell her the entire story of Agnes’ family trauma at the hands of the English.

  “And yet you allowed me into your home?” she asked in shock. “Agnes has cared for me without a moment of rancor.” Elizabeth was utterly disgusted by the behavior of the English soldiers who had harmed Agnes in such a way. She could not fathom why anyone would harm another person in such a manner, or how Agnes could have survived such horrors. Is it any wonder that she does not speak? Tears ran down her cheeks in shame for the actions of her fellow countrymen

  Samuel looked into her face with sympathy. “It sorrows me that I have brought ye tae tears, lass. Do ye need me tae stay here with ye?”

  “Nay, I will recover. I thank you for sharing the truth with me, Samuel. I am so very sorry,” she whispered, tears running unchecked down her cheeks.

  “Are ye certain, lass?”

  Elizabeth waved him back to his labors. She wished to gather control of her emotions in the solitude of silence. Leaning her back against the wall, she surveyed the exquisitely rugged landscape before her. She could not remember knowing anything else, but she could not imagine her homeland being any more beautiful. The memory of the field of flowers flitted through her mind once more, and she wondered if such places existed on the Isle of Skye. After everything Samuel had said, she needed to feel that something good could be shared between their two countries.

  “’Tis good tae see ye out and about,” James’ voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to find his blue eyes smiling down at her.

  “Yes, it is. I am greatly pleased to be able to do so.” The morning breeze from the sea lifted her hair from her shoulders, causing the tendrils to whisper along the skin of her cheek and drying her tears. Elizabeth closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling.

  “I have come tae extend an invitation tae the castle for the gatherin’.”

  Elizabeth opened her eyes in surprise. “From what Samuel has told me, having an English person at such an event as an oath-taking is highly frowned upon. I would not wish to cause you difficulty after all that you have done for me.”

  “Yer presence on Skye is nae secret tae any o’ me people. Such news travels quickly on an island It is me hope that the more ye heal and speak with others, the more ye will regain yer memories. Ye may be greeted with suspicion at the gatherin’, but nae one would be so bold as tae lay a hand on a guest o’ the laird, Sassenach or nae.”

  “I will attend the gathering if that is what you wish; but I am not at all certain that it is wise given the Scottish sentiment toward the English, if even a portion of what Samuel told me is true.” Elizabeth bit her lip in concern. Samuel had been quite straight forward about what she could expect from his fellow clansmen. He had meant his warning with kindness, but it had done little to assuage Elizabeth’s fear of her circumstances.

  “As I said, ye will be safe with me, but if ye dinnae wish tae attend, I shall nae force ye tae do so.”

  “I will come. Perhaps, as you say, it will bring about a memory. A word or deed…”

  “Aye, perhaps.” James nodded. Elizabeth was not certain from his expression what he was thinking at that moment, but she hoped that her acceptance of his invitation had pleased him. The last thing she wished to do was upset the man who had saved her life and who now held her care in his charge. “Mayhap ye will have improved enough tae take up residence in the castle by that time?”

  Elizabeth nodded quietly. She was loathe to give up the tranquility of the croft for the bustling stone enclosure of a castle, but she knew it would be rude to refuse the laird’s hospitality; and after hearing what had happened to Agnes, she no longer felt that she could impose herself upon the elderly couple. The idea of being in a large group of people after everything that had happened to her was overwhelming enough, but to do so when she had no real notion of who she was outside of being an Englishwoman seemed absurd.

  “Only if ye wish tae do so, o’ course,” he added, a worried light in his eyes. Elizabeth realized her emotions must have shown on her face. “I am aware that it is an unusual situation that we find ourselves in, but I only wish tae see that ye are returned tae yer family as quickly as is possible for the wellbeing o’ all those concerned.”

  Elizabeth nodded again slowly. She was not at all certain that she wished to return with the dreams she had been having, and with what little she had been told of her fellow countrymen. The uncertainty of her future was nothing when compared to the uncertainty of her past. A shiver of fear traveled up and down her spine at the thought. Gooseflesh ran along her skin, causing the hairs on her arms and neck to stand on end. Her mother’s dying words echoed through her mind causing her stomach to turn over. What if my mother had fallen victim to such fiends as had happened to Agnes?

  “Are ye well, lass?” James knelt down in front of her, a worried expression on his face. “Ye have gone quite pale.”

  “Yes,” she lied, swallowing her fear. She pushed the images and voices from her mind.

  “Are ye certain o’ that, lass? I am nae at all convinced that ye are.” He reached his hand up to her face to check for fever.

  “I am certain. Merely the remnants of night terrors coming back to haunt me with their evil remembrances, creating fears best left unrealized.”

  “Would I could take such pain from ye,” he murmured softly, his hand lingering on her cheek for a moment before he stood and moved back away from her.

  Elizabeth found that she regretted the absence of his warmth and wished that she could have taken his hand in hers and held it there if but for a brief moment longer. She watched as he lowered his lean muscular form down to the ground beside her, leaning his back against the croft wall. The muscles in his shoulders strained against the thin fabric of his shirt. The sun sho
ne down on his blonde hair, burning in strands of golden light. He was stunning to behold in all of his masculine glory. She drew strength from his nearness. Perhaps moving to the castle would not be so bad if she were nearer to him.

  “If coming tae the castle is tae much for ye, I will understand. I ken well enough that ye have been through a terrible ordeal. I wouldnae wish what has befallen ye on tae any lass.”

  “I have nothing to wear to such an event.”

  James’ face broke out into a grin, and he chuckled.

  “And what do you find so amusing?” she demanded to know indignantly.