The Outcast Highlander (8 page)

“I had hoped to return faster.” Malcolm held Kensey’s eyes. A heat behind his gaze warned her to take care, though he kept his distance

“Please tell me you have news of my father.”

The hall began to fill with people. Robert, several of her father’s warriors, most of the servants. Kensey only hoped Ete could keep her mother above stairs. The last thing they needed was Gabrielle attempting to over-exert herself.

“It took me some time when I reached Berwick to discover your father,” Malcolm began. He stepped forward and took Kensey’s hands.

“And what did you find when you did?”

“Are your mother or your brother around?” asked Malcolm.

“You can tell me and I will choose how to tell them,” insisted Kensey. Reyf stepped to her side and cleared his throat. The sound echoed through the hall and several of the audience began to whisper.

“Your father did arrive in Berwick.” Malcolm grasped his hands behind his back and stood straight. “He went to the Guardians first, to seek out their intentions, and found that they had already sworn their fealty to the English king.”

“I thought as much,” Reyf interrupted. “Sutherland and Ross, no doubt. And Sinclair, too? Even Moray?”

“There were one or two nobles who decided not to make the promises that Edward was requiring of them. The king reprimanded them harshly. One man, a friend of my brother’s, was even whipped. And in the end, all lords were required to show submission, and granted their lands back to us as a prize for our cooperation.”

“And my father?” Kensey pushed, the worry escalating beyond what she could tolerate. Malcolm’s story certainly wasn’t ending quickly, and it didn’t appear to be heading to a happy conclusion.

“Your father followed de Moray in refusing to surrender. But de Moray’s brother is clergy, and begged for his brother’s clemency. So when your father would not swear his allegiance to the king…” Malcolm stopped. His stance went from the proud, straight back of a confident man to the slumped cowering of a frightened animal.

“Oh, by God’s beard, Malcolm, whatever it is, I must know it.”

“Edward had your father imprisoned for treason.” Malcolm exhaled a long breath, as though expelling all the badness with the news would somehow purge him of having taken part in the reporting.

“Treason?” Kensey gasped. “In Berwick?”

“For now.”

“Did you speak to my father face-to-face?”

“No,” Malcolm admitted, his eyes narrowed. “I had the account from the court page, over quite a night of drinking. They are not allowing your father any visitors, and no communication. Lass, even if you went there yourself, you could not see him.”

Kensey had to find a chair, because suddenly, her legs felt as though they would give out. In all her imaginings, she hadn’t even considered this. Other than his possible death, she had always imagined him returning with Malcolm. Though this was not death, it was as good as.

“When will he be released?” she dared. Malcolm’s face was all the answer she needed.

“Och, lass.” Malcolm reached for her, but she drew back. She pressed her arms tighter around her body, pushing thoughts of her father wasting away in a dungeon out of her mind.

“You think they do not mean to release him?”

“The page indicated that there was no sentence. Just that he had been jailed immediately until he would recant his indictment and swear loyalty to the king. His title has been decommissioned, although they cannot take away his headship in the clan.”

“What has happened to our lands?” she wondered.

“That had not been decided.” Malcolm’s voice wavered as he continued. “A rumor reached my ears that Edward planned to give your lands to another, but it was not confirmed.”

Kensey shuddered. They would likely pass to Robert. The thought of her father stripped of his title and her little brother, who could barely sit his own saddle, as the new laird of the clan, it was unthinkable.

“Surely this can’t be true.” She sniffed against the threatening tears. “Can you remain with us this night?” Kensey placed her small hand on his forearm. He shook his head in assent. “It is late in the afternoon and my mother is very ill.”

Reyf stalked away and spoke sharply to one of the pages, who immediately took off running through the hall. He remained to speak to the other page and Kensey stepped closer to Malcolm.

“My mother will want to hear this from you herself, but I don’t wish to trouble her this evening. If you could see her first thing in the morning before you leave for Castle St. Claire? It will give me some time to think of what we can do.”

Malcolm’s intense stare almost took her breath away. Something else lingered behind his looks and she wasn’t sure what to do, other than look away. He took her hand and she smiled at the ground.

“I will stay until you bid me leave, Kensey.”

She offered a small curtsey and reclaimed her hand, turning to signal to Ene on the stairs. The older woman scurried across the room, a basket of clothing in her hands.

“Yes, miss?”

“Malcolm will be staying with us this evening. Please see that he gets our best guest room and a hot bath. He will eat with us, as well, if he wishes.”

Ene nodded. “What should I tell your lady mother?”

Kensey sighed. “Nothing, for now. Let her rest.” She stepped backwards, making her exit away from Malcolm. “Please make yourself at home, and I will see you at the evening meal. We usually eat just before dark.”

Before he could speak to her again, she turned and stalked from the room, taking care not to run, although a part of her wanted to run for the door and out onto the moors and just keep going. Perhaps a bigger part knew that if she could find her mysterious lone Highlander, he would be able to fix whatever was wrong.

Fantasy or not, it settled her heart to think that he could fix any problem she put before him.

Chapter Seven

Reyf burst into the great hall just as Kensey lifted the first bite of guinea hen to her mouth. She’d smelled the fabulous roast fowl since Malcolm returned that afternoon and her mouth hadn’t stopped watering.

But the look on Reyf’s round, red face stopped her cold. His whole countenance spoke of a fear she hadn’t seen in him before. She dropped the leg of hen and rounded the table at a quick step.

Slightly out of breath, the old steward leaned against a column near the door. Once Kensey reached him, he tried to speak, but it still came out in puffs. “Kendrick was on patrol… just the other side of Ben More Assynt… a huge camp of English soldiers… flying a Buckingham banner… the Lord is among them.”

Kensey’s heart nearly stopped. They must have been right behind Malcolm the whole time. Either they waited for the dead of night to be upon them, or the first light for safe travel. Either way, it gave them almost no time to respond.

“How many men do we have here?”

Reyf shook his head. “No, miss. That will not do. They are one hundred strong at least. Even if we could reach all through the MacLeod lands before they are upon us, we would have less than thirty men of fighting age. Too many too old or too young still, or untrained.”

Malcolm suddenly put his hand under Kensey’s elbow and she jumped. She hadn’t realized he would follow her.

“What has happened?” Malcolm asked. When Reyf recounted in a more steady delivery, Malcolm stroked his beard and considered. “They must have been on my heels since I left Berwick.”

“Can you ride to Duncan and raise warriors?” Kensey felt some rise of hope at the thought, until Malcolm’s somber face told the story.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t return in time. They will likely try to strike at night, when your defenses are down.” He looked back at the table and lowered his voice. “Buckingham is no fool. He has extensive lands in the south and in England. He knows that Scots will fight.”

Kensey paced between the end of the table and the column, trying to think of their next move. So much, she wished her father were here, but it was past time for girlish dreams. The Highland outcast wasn’t coming to save her, the Sinclairs weren’t coming to save her, her father wasn’t coming to save her. She was alone, responsible, and had no time to second-guess herself.

“Buckingham won’t hurt the people,” she said. Both men raised eyebrows at her as though she spoke madness. She repeated herself, then continued. “He can’t afford to. He’s not actually going to take up residence here. He’ll install some underling with a garrison and he’ll need our people to work.”

Malcolm inclined his head. “You may be right.”

“But he will want you.” Reyf stomped in the path of her pacing and took her by the shoulders. He smelled of sweat and horse and Kensey was immediately on edge. “You and your brother, and perhaps even your mother.”

“But if we could slip out during the night, quietly.” Kensey leaned forward hopefully, trying to bait them.

“No.” Reyf released her but stayed in her pathway. “I will hide you.”

“Until what?” Kensey’s voice drew into a louder tone than she would have liked and everyone at the table perked up, including her brother. She lowered her voice. “My father may never return. My mother is ill. What would you have me do?”

Both men considered this. The chatter in the hall picked back up when no more loud voices came from their group. Kensey turned on Malcolm.

“You can lead us to Castle St. Claire. There, we will surely be safe until my father returns.” Kensey touched his shoulder, hoping the act would solidify her seriousness.

“It would be very dangerous, in the night. But if we move slowly, I think we can make it. We’ll have to stick to the easy road, which will likely lead us within sight of their camp, at least for a short way to cross the river.”

Reyf took Kensey’s arm and hauled her toward the stairs. She had every intention of shoving him off and crying foul, but she needed his assent, or their plan would never work. He reached the stairs and continued to pull her along. They reached the laird’s solar and he knocked on the door.

Gabrielle’s weak voice called out to admit them and Kensey shook her head as Reyf put his hand on the door. He paid her no heed and shoved her inside her mother’s room. Malcolm followed and Reyf closed the door with a loud
thud
.

“Your daughter has news, my lady.” Reyf bowed deeply, his voice low and sweet. He eyed Kensey and gestured for her to speak to her mother.

She had hoped to make the decision without worrying Gabrielle, but it looked as though there was no other option. In dulcet tones, she explained the situation, leaving out as much information as she dared.

Then, she dropped her voice even lower as she explained her plan. Gabrielle sunk deeper into her bedcoverings as Kensey continued and by the time she’d presented the plan, Gabrielle could barely be seen. Tears streaked her face.

“There must be another course of action we could take,” Gabrielle insisted. Kensey crossed the room and lifted her mother’s light frame out of the hole she’d sunk into, propped her up against several pillows, and re-covered her in blankets.

“If we stay, we endanger not only Father’s legacy, but our own lives. Who’s to say he won’t slaughter the three of us on sight?”

“He would have to answer to the King if he did. And the King of France.” Gabrielle poked out her proud chin and dismissed the very thought. But Kensey knew better. This was war, and anything was possible.

“Papa has been accused of treason.”

“But to leave Assynt…” Gabrielle stopped, wheezing. She took in a deep, painful breath, and Kensey could hear the difficulty with which she gathered herself. Her lungs were somehow impeded, which meant the medicines still weren’t working.

Unbidden, Kensey thought,
you may not last the week, Mother
, but did not say as such. Still, the thought clouded her attention. She stamped a frustrated foot. “If you stay, what good will it do?”

“I know you do worry for me, and perhaps you should.” Another labored breath gave Kensey the pause she needed. “But I cannot leave Assynt.”

Gabrielle straightened in her bed and gestured to Reyf. “As my husband’s steward, I want you to give some orders, on behalf of your laird.”

Reyf strode forward and sunk to one knee in front of his mistress. Kensey crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. Her mother refused to listen. They couldn’t stay.

“You are to order my children, accompanied by Malcolm Sinclair, to ride at once for Castle St. Claire. There, they will throw themselves on the mercy of the laird and beg his forgiveness for the inconvenience of our request.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gabrielle met Kensey’s eyes. “And you are to order the gates to open to Buckingham when he arrives. No protest. We will receive his letters if he is indeed from the King, and I will remain here as Lady of MacLeod until I am removed by the King or my lord husband returns to me.”

Kensey’s heart twisted. Her mother couldn’t do this. It meant certain death for her, and perhaps even for her father.

“If my children must mourn this decision, they may do so, but my word is final and I will brook no refusal.” Gabrielle slumped back against the bed and a fit of coughing took her. Reyf merely nodded and left the room with his orders.

At the word
mourn
, Kensey felt the threat of tears burn the back of her throat. “I never thought I would lose both my parents like this.” Her dark hair fell from behind her ears as she bowed her head and sobbed into her mother’s bedding. Gabrielle appeared not even to have the strength to pull her daughter into her arms. She instead kept her hand on Kensey’s head and hushed her.

“There, there, now. As of right now, you have lost neither.”

“But if we leave…”

“Yes, if you leave, you may not return to find me here,” Gabrielle wheezed, pausing again to take a deep breath. Kensey noticed that the shallow breaths she took at intervals sounded less awful than this one, long breath she paused for. She knew this meant something, but she could not remember what. “But if you stay, you may very well wake one morning and find me gone, as well. And then we risk Buckingham taking you to wife, or giving you to one of his henchmen like a common whore.”