Highlander Mine

Hamish had recovered from his initial fear and now, his mute fascination. “Do you think those swords are as long as the scabbards that hold them?” Hamish whispered.

I eyed one of the leather sheaths in question. “It seems impossible that anyone could lift one, if they are,” I said in hushed tones, “but then, look at the size of those men’s arms. And the scabbards look well made. I would expect that they would fit the swords like a glove.”

“Aye,” Hamish agreed, agog and wide-eyed. These men before us embodied everything his childhood fantasies had promised, and more. He’d modeled himself on the stories of the Highlander warriors I’d read him as a small boy, on their strength and their bravery, having never seen anyone like that on the backstreets of Edinburgh. And here they were: real and fierce. Hamish had been carrying his toy swords around since he was barely old enough to walk, but he’d never seen anything like this. I couldn’t help thinking he’d found his element here in these Highlands, and we’d barely just arrived. I wasn’t sure why this realization, though hardly surprising, caused a ripple of unease in me. I realized in that moment that I was entering new territory that would very likely change not only my outlook but the entire course of my future.

Then again, that’s exactly what I’d intended all along, by fleeing the city. A new life, for him, at least. And here, in this very place, I could feel that new life beginning to unfold, reaching and affecting us both.

The women took a seat at the table next to ours and the men sat at a large round table near them. The server attended to them immediately.

One of the women noticed our interest and she caught my eye. She appeared to be the youngest of the three, and she was, even from this small distance, quite strikingly beautiful. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of cerulean blue that matched her dress, and her hair was a shiny, rich dark brown. She appeared equally interested in my own appearance, taking in the snug fit of my dress and my slightly windblown dishevelment. She smiled, and behind a thin veil of shyness, I could detect genuine interest, and a light note of concern. Clearly I was unaccompanied by any escort aside from a small boy whose eyes were glued to her guards even as he continued to wolf down his food as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

My position, as a woman traveling without protection, was clearly not only inappropriate, but dangerous. Especially from the vantage point of such privilege. I guessed that these women were returning to their Highlands clan after a short trip to Edinburgh on business of one sort or another—which had more than likely involved copious amounts of shopping. They were practically sparkling with fresh grooming and the newness of their garments.

I felt a million miles removed from such splendor. My dress was fine enough, aye, if somewhat constricting, but I had in fact been on the run for upward of five days, had eaten little, slept on hay wagons or in open fields and, now for the first time, felt the accumulating effects of all the tumult of recent weeks to my very bones.

In fact, I should have been counting my blessings. I was alive, and so was Hamish. And I held on to hope that Cecelia, too, was holed up in some safe haven, being fed a meal as fortifying as ours. For her sake, and her son’s, I resolved to somehow beat Sebastian Fawkes at his own game, to get my revenge by saving her, and saving myself.

I noticed then that Hamish had left the table. Curiosity had overcome him. He was circling the soldiers, keeping a not-so-subtle distance from them, and arousing the interest of the young woman in blue, as well as the other two.

They watched my nephew for a moment, taking in his outfit, and his beauty; it was true he had been exceptionally blessed in this way.

“Would you like to touch one of the swords?” the young woman in blue asked him.

Hamish, alas, lacked any hint of bashfulness. He was a straightforward boy who was quite aware of his angelic face, his sun-touched hair and his long, graceful limbs. He had used his looks to his own advantage upon many occasions, a practice I had not only encouraged but taught him. “Aye, milady. I’m the son of a doctor, not a warrior. I’ve seen plenty of scalpels but never a sword.”

Ah. I felt an equal amount of pride and dismay at his quick response. He was already spinning our tale.

“Lachlan, would you mind terribly?” the young woman addressed one of the guards. “The lad is so sweet.”

The guard named Lachlan eyed Hamish for a moment, and I detected his mild annoyance, as though he was lamenting the fact that he wasn’t out-of-doors spearing things, instead finding himself relegated to guard duty and the unappealing assignment of entertaining a vagrant boy. Even so, it was clear enough that Lachlan would not refuse whatever request the young woman made of him. He obliged, unsheathing his colossal weapon in one easy swipe, holding it up in front of Hamish’s rounded eyes.

I’d never seen Hamish so awestruck. He reached up tentatively to touch his fingers to the flat side of the blade.

“Don’t touch the blade, lad, or you’ll be picking your neatly sliced fingers up off the floor,” Lachlan said with persuasive eloquence.

“I wasn’t going to touch the blade,” Hamish replied, miffed that the soldier would think him so dim-witted. “I know it’s sharp. It wouldn’t be much use if it wasn’t.”

Several of the other soldiers chuckled at this and I felt a ripple of shame that Hamish would respond with such impertinence. Lachlan, however, appeared more impressed by Hamish’s answer than angered. Strength and bravery were their currency, I supposed. Hamish understood this and had just bought himself a hint of this soldier’s respect. Clearly, despite his small size in the face of these enormous, armed men, my nephew was not intimidated. And there was a shiny-eyed eagerness to him that Lachlan could not help but respond to.

“I’d offer to let you hold it,” Lachlan said, “but the sword outweighs you.”

More laughter from the men.

“Here,” Lachlan continued, retrieving a large knife from its holster at his belt. “You can hold this one.”

Now that Hamish was well and truly engaged, the young woman in blue took the opportunity to make light conversation. She was clearly somewhat overcome with curiosity about my obvious predicament. Her blue eyes gleamed with bright interest, and her shiny brown hair waved prettily around a pale face that was highlighted by the subtle paint of pink on her cheeks.

“I’m Christie Mackenzie,” she said. “This is my sister, Ailie.” She motioned to the woman on her right, whose beauty was equal to her sister’s but somehow more reserved. Christie’s beauty had a fresh, mischievous appeal while Ailie’s conveyed composure and sophistication. Ailie smiled politely. Her hair was darker than Christie’s and her eyes were a deep shade of indigo blue. “And this is our friend Katriona,” Christie continued.

Katriona was perhaps as many as ten years older than the two sisters, and her manner was markedly less friendly. Her smile was so forced that if taken out of context, it might have been mistaken for a grimace, perhaps from a mild case of indigestion. She was not as beautiful as the sisters, but it could be said that she was exceptionally well presented. Any beauty she might have possessed was eclipsed by the pinched, rigid impatience that set her face, and by the youthful radiance of the two women she traveled with. The ill fit of my dress did not escape her notice, nor did she appear particularly pleased by Hamish’s precocious joy as he held Lachlan’s glinting knife.

“I’m Amelia Taylor,” I said. “And this is Hamish.” I stopped myself from giving Hamish’s correct surname just in time. We were pretending to be siblings, I remembered. “My brother.”

Christie asked the question she must have been dying to ask all along. “And you travel alone?”

“We had an escort, of course,” Hamish answered, with such sincerity I suffered a pang of guilt that overshadowed any pride that might have accompanied it. The lad was gifted. I should, as his guardian, be grooming him for a career in stage acting and if he hadn’t been so staunchly adamant about his decision to become a soldier, I might have considered setting our sights for the theaters of London as a hideout, rather than the remote expanses of the Highlands. My guilt only compounded as I recalled telling him that it was likely that we would be reunited with his parents more quickly if we were particularly convincing in our storytelling. “But he met an untimely end at the hands of the dastardly bandits that stole our carriage and all our belongings.”

This news was met with the collective dismay of his now-rapt audience. “Bandits?” said Lachlan, bristling, his eyes surveying the room as though they might be among us. “What bandits?”

“Aye,” replied Hamish. “Five of them. They wore black masks and capes and they rode black horses. Ruthless, they were. Killed our escort right in front of our eyes. Speared him through the heart with a silver-hilted sword.”

A twinge of pain brought me to the realization that I had bitten my own lip. I hoped Hamish’s imaginative yarn wasn’t too creative. I didn’t like the thought of what these war-hardened men might do to us if they suspected we were deceiving them. But there was no point correcting my nephew; it would only make them more inclined to doubt us. Strangely, I felt an uncharacteristic sense of regret that we were in fact deceiving them, these beautiful sisters with their kind eyes and their enviable lot in life. I would never have thought to wish for such a thing, but I couldn’t help feeling a sense of wonder at their fortune. Their manly band of escorts, all rugged good looks and masculine protectiveness against any and every potential threat these sisters might face; their dark beauty; their innate sense of style that was only enhanced tenfold by the wealth that so flatteringly showcased it.

Ah, well. Overblown luck was not something I sought out, or even valued especially, having experienced so little of it. Which was why I had made a point of learning the tricks and mathematics that ensured something akin to luck. My kind of manufactured luck, however, was only useful at the gaming tables. It didn’t translate further afield than that. And even my skills at trickery in the gambling den hadn’t been enough to keep my brother-in-law’s broken, corrupt business afloat. Or my sister safe. It was best to carry on and appreciate the smaller fortunes in life, like this hearty meal we were almost finished with. And this fine brew of sweet tea.

“We’ve been forced to make our way on foot,” I said, before Hamish could elaborate further. “We were fortunate to get a ride part of the way on a farmer’s wagon, which explains our somewhat ragged appearance. And then we saw this tavern.”

“We’ve come from Edinburgh,” continued Hamish. “To search for some long-lost relatives whose names we don’t even know.”

“You have relatives in the Highlands?” Christie asked, intrigued.

Hamish answered before I could. “We do, but we know nothing about their identity. Our father’s final words to us, as he lay pale and choking for breath on his deathbed, his life seeping away from the disease that tragically stole him from us, were these—‘Go to the Highlands and seek out my cousin. He’s a good man and he will take you in. He’ll care for you as if you were his own.’ Of course, we were asking him, ‘Who, Father? Who is this cousin you speak of? Why have you never told us of him before? What’s his name?’ But it was too late. Father’s eyes had gone dull and lifeless. His final breath rasped from his body in a weak sigh. And then he was gone.” Hamish’s eyes, the little puck, were shiny with emotion. And he was still clutching the lethal-looking knife with both hands, which somehow only added to the performance. “We buried him next to our mother.”

“Oh, you poor child,” exclaimed Christie.

“I have Amelia to take care of me,” Hamish told her, with what I knew to be genuine relief tinting his words. “And I take care of her. We’re not alone.” I’d practically raised Hamish, since his parents had been so busy running the club, and I’d loved him madly from the moment he was born. In the nine years between then and now, my role in his life as aunt and guide had offered me as many moments of joy as any relationship I’d ever had. His complete trust in me—a trust that shone now from his seraphic face—strengthened my resolve to keep him safe and to give him every chance in life, despite our significant hardships. If I had to stoop to servitude or to spinning a few harmless lies to do it, then so be it. “And so,” Hamish continued solemnly, “with no living relatives left in Edinburgh, we’ve come to seek out this cousin. But then, out of nowhere, a band of renegades surrounded us, attacking as one! Ours was a fine enough carriage, filled with all our belongings. They took everything. James tried to protect our family heirlooms. We told him to let them have it, that it wasn’t worth his life, but he wouldn’t listen. He was loyal to his bones.”

James. His father’s name. An odd choice for our fictional driver. But then, I knew Hamish’s bond with his father had never been a strong one.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Katriona said, her mild empathy laced with more pronounced vestiges of disbelief. “Who are these bandits in black? I had no idea such people even existed.”

Unfortunately, Katriona’s skepticism aggravated the little devil in me, the whispering contrariness that resided persistently within my character no matter how hard I tried to banish it. That she would so immediately question Hamish’s sincerity irked me, even if she had good reason to do so. I found myself yearning to bolster my nephew’s story to support him, and to silence her. “Oh, I’d never heard of such a thing, either,” I said. “At first we thought them an apparition, a wayward fear that might have stepped out of the fathomless pages of medieval history, traveling as we were through such unfamiliar territory. It was why our escort was so unwilling to cooperate with them. We simply couldn’t believe we were being robbed so aggressively, and in such an idyllic setting. And when they demanded we step free of the carriage, I was relieved, at least, that they intended to let us go. I willingly bargained with them, giving them all our possessions, my jewelry—most of which belonged to our dearly departed mother—our horses and the carriage itself in exchange for our freedom, even if it meant we might wander for days on end without any sign of shelter or assistance. But James was worried about our safety under such conditions. He argued. He refused to relent.” I faltered here, almost getting swept away in the emotional momentum of my tale. “’Twas a brutal end,” I finally said. “But thankfully, Hamish and I were allowed to flee. We hid behind the incline of a small hill until they were gone.”

“If I’d had this knife,” Hamish added, “I’d have run after them.”

Christie’s eyes sparked with concern as she pictured our harrowing ordeal. Lachlan, however, sported a completely different expression as his gaze flicked back and forth between Hamish and me. If I wasn’t mistaken, he appeared faintly amused, more relaxed than a soldier should have been when confronted with news of this kind: that evildoers were loose in his near vicinity, that his noble charges might be under dire threat. I had no way of knowing if he was reading our lie with ease. I suspected it. Maybe, as a seasoned soldier born of these lands, he knew that there were no black-clad bandits wreaking havoc; he’d know of them if such people existed. Maybe he’d banished those that once prowled these lands himself. Or he’d listened at the knee of his warrior father, who’d killed them off one by one.

If Lachlan did detect our dishonesty, he made no effort to expose it. His concentration returned to his ale, from which he took a long drink. For this I was profoundly grateful. I decided I liked him, and if there was ever a way I could ever reciprocate the favor, I would.

I realized that Hamish was now holding something in his right hand, the hand that was not currently occupied with the glinting, oversize weapon. A bag, small and blue. Exactly the same fabric, in fact, as the dress that Christie wore. A matching accessory.

My heart thumped with a clenching realization. Nay, I thought. He hasn’t. He’s pickpocketed her! I knew only too well how deftly skilled he was. One might have argued that our predicament was severe enough to warrant theft, or worse. But it was exactly what had put us in this position of vagrancy in the first place, and I wanted nothing more to do with it. This lady, given her hefty bodyguards and their abundant weaponry, was quite possibly the worst choice of target ever in the entire history of thievery.

Hamish spoke, with the utmost politeness. “Milady. Your bag. You dropped it. I wouldn’t want you to leave it behind mistakenly.”

Christie looked confused. Her hand ghosted to the now-empty pocket of her coat, where her bag had been. Then she reached to take the small purse that Hamish held out to her. “Thank you. What a kindhearted lad you are.”

With that, as my heart rioted in my chest, Christie looked at Ailie somewhat beseechingly. “Knox would want to hear about their plight,” she said to her sister. “And he’d want to learn more about these bandits from the witnesses themselves.”

Ailie appeared to contemplate this for a moment, and she looked at me thoughtfully, weighing her decision.

“Aye,” Ailie finally said, to my surprise. “You must come with us.” It was the first time she had spoken. Her voice was soft yet ingrained with a sure, quiet strength, as though she was used to being listened to with interest and obedience. It made me wonder what kind of rank these women held. They were clearly noble; their obvious wealth and their brawny entourage were evidence enough of that.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—” Katriona began.

“Aye, you must,” Christie agreed quickly. “You can’t stay here at this tavern, and you’ve nowhere else to go. You’ll come with us and we’ll help you find your family. Knox will probably know of them. He knows everyone.”

“Who’s Knox?” asked Hamish.

“Our brother,” said Christie.

“Laird Knox Mackenzie,” Katriona stated with emphasis, as though everyone on the planet, from the tribesmen deep in the jungles of Africa to the painted plainspeople of the faraway Americas, had heard of Laird Knox Mackenzie. Except us.

Not only Katriona’s tone but also her reverential mention of this Laird Knox Mackenzie made me question whether accompanying these women would be in our best interest, as appealing as such an offer might seem. The last thing we needed was to be under the thumb of a lordish, controlling overseer. It was the very situation we were fleeing from. And while I could easily recognize that the brother of these charming sisters might be a far more appealing overseer than the one we had left behind, my pride would not allow us to be charity cases, no matter how desperate we might have been.

I shook my head. “Nay. We wouldn’t dream of imposing on you like that,” I said. Hamish gave me a look of startled irritation. I already knew he would follow Lachlan around like a loyal puppy wherever the beefed-up warrior happened to go if given half the opportunity. “I had already decided to search for gainful employment, to pay our way to our father’s cousin’s lands, wherever they may be.”

“Perhaps we could help you find some work,” offered Ailie, “once you have spoken with Knox.”

“Aye,” said Christie, turning to me. “Our brother, laird of lairds, is very thorough when it comes to the details of any threat to peace within a fifty-mile radius of Kinloch’s walls. It’s been quite some time since we’ve seen bandits in these parts and I know he’d be very interested to hear of them. I’d say you’ll be well occupied for some time to come.”

Her playful respect intrigued me, but I didn’t like the thought of being interrogated by some all-powerful, self-important laird, to spin further, deeper lies that might be as transparent to him as they had been to Lachlan.

“I’m not sure if—” I began.

“We can’t possibly leave you here—” Christie interrupted, glancing around the crowded bustle of the tavern somewhat critically “—unchaperoned and vulnerable to any number of perils, as you are. We’re very close to Kinloch’s borders and it’s therefore our duty to harbor you. I’m sure Knox would agree.”

“I suppose he would,” Katriona tentatively agreed, as though not entirely persuaded.

“We should be on our way as it is,” Ailie commented. “We’ll ride through the night and reach Kinloch by morning.”

“It’s settled, then?” Christie asked. I suspected that these sisters were acting not only out of kindness and benevolence, but also in the interest of their own clan, as it made sense that they would. We were unknown wanderers, after all, with a somewhat outlandish past. We must be investigated as well as protected. And their guards were on hand to ensure not only our safety but their own. Even though we could hardly be considered threatening, it was possible that our story had not fooled either Lachlan or the women, and that Hamish and I might be seen as a riddle that needed to be solved, just in case our riddle presented threats this close to their home.

“You’ll accompany us to Kinloch—our clan’s keep,” Ailie continued. “’Tis very comfortable there, I can assure you. You and your brother will be well cared for.”

The way the sisters said the name of this place made it sound like some mythical Eden.

I should have refused. But the absolute elation on Hamish’s face as he realized that we would travel with these soldiers swayed me. Knowing that he’d be safe for a time, and well fed, clinched my decision. He wouldn’t have to stay here in this tavern, or another like it, helping me clean or cook—an occupation that, it occurred to me only now, would be very visible, and unprotected, if our pursuers happened to, in time, track us this far north. We would be far safer inside the walls of a well-armed keep. Practically untouchable.

Despite my apprehensions at putting myself at the mercy of this Laird Knox Mackenzie and all his noble authority, it was these details concerning my foremost priority—my nephew’s safety—that found me agreeing.

“All right, then,” I heard myself saying, and my voice sounded uncertain even to my own ears. “We will accompany you to Kinloch.”

Wherever that might be.

CHAPTER TWO

I SUPPOSE I shouldn’t have been overly surprised that Hamish and I were subjected to a careful—and quite thorough—search, not only of our bag but also our clothing before we were allowed into the carriage. This inspection was carried out by several of the guards, at Lachlan’s command. He appeared to be the highest-ranking of these men, and they obeyed his directive without question. “A routine exercise,” was Lachlan’s gruff comment on the subject, although I couldn’t help wondering how regularly they came across wandering, unchaperoned young women in these parts. Maybe it happened all the time.

“I’ll exercise you,” I muttered inaudibly, as Lachlan’s men patted the shape of my legs through my dress, to ensure that I carried no weapons, presumably.

“Pardon, milady?” Lachlan said. “Did you say something?”

“Nay,” I replied innocently. “Nothing at all.”

Darkness had settled by the time we began our journey to Kinloch.

The luxurious carriage was fitted with clever seats that reclined to form beds. Velvet curtains had been drawn to create partitions between the beds. And the bedding itself was as soft and plush as any I had ever seen.

I lay for a time before I slept, considering this unusual turn of events and all that had happened in the short space of several weeks. Here we were, ensconced in deluxe accommodation, making our way with a group of warriors and noblewomen to a mythical Highlands keep where we would be greeted by the laird of their clan. It was so far removed from the backstreets of Edinburgh I almost wondered if I was in fact dreaming, if the harrowing events of recent weeks hadn’t got the better of me. I blinked and took in my surroundings, fingering the fine thickness of the soft fabrics.