Highlander's Charm (Highlander Heat #3)

Margaret guided Lila down the winding stairs and into the great hall.

Within a wide arched stone fireplace, sparks flared, and firelight shimmered across the hefty clan shield hanging over it. So beautiful. The silver edge, embedded with diamonds, rubies and yellow sapphires, gave proof of just how much wealth this clan held. The MacLeans had certainly survived and thrived as her clan had not.

They passed two maids clearing the trenchers away, and a large brown-haired dog guzzling scraps from under the trestle tables.

Outside in the bailey, the sun shone and she breathed the fresh sea air in.

“’Tis a short walk to the training yard at the tip of the loch. ’Twill no’ take long.” Margaret snuck her through the arched gates and into the outer courtyard. The glittering waters of the sound beckoned, and so close lay Ardnamurchan.

They followed the stony path.

Near the stables, a gangly-legged lad in loosely belted pants brushed a sleek black warhorse. Beyond him, two armed warriors mounted their steeds then galloped across the moors toward the forest. “It’s awful you must live like this, so on guard all the time.”

“There is naught we can do to halt this feud, no’ when Lachlan fights to right the past wrongs done to him.”

“What wrongs are those?” The path weaved uphill, and she lifted her skirts out of the dust.

“Lachlan’s father, in the short five years he was chief, gambled away his lands on Islay, but they were unfairly lost to him. ’Tis why he’s so determined to get the Rhinns back.”

“If that’s so, then why doesn’t he simply take his case to the king? It would have saved on the whole being captured thing.”

“He’ll never accede to the king, no’ in anyway. To do so, would be accepting the king’s rule over our isle.”

Since it was the late 1500s, the king had to be James VI, one of the greatest kings of all times. What she’d read about him at the museum had intrigued her. Because of his birth, he’d successfully united the kingdoms of England and Scotland at the turn of the coming century. He’d led with determination during his long reign. A shame she hadn’t read more about this particular feud. That would’ve been helpful.

They made the top rise and she raised a hand to her brow. Duart sat prominently at the point where the Sound of Mull intersected with Loch Linne and the Firth of Lorne. Land rose from the water in every direction. A very favorable position for a stronghold with its unhindered views.

“If you look to the south you can see the isles of Jura and Islay.” Margaret plucked a yellow flower from the lush grass and tucked it behind her ear. “Lachlan holds the northern half of Jura. That he has never lost.”

“Where are the Rhinns located?”

“There on Islay’s west.”

“It’s close.”

“Aye, we usually receive fair warning when our enemy sails these waterways.” She pointed toward a cluster of trees where beyond the clashing of steel against steel rung through the air. “The men are down there, where they can also keep watch over it all.”

“Then it’s time for me to see Calum.” She strode along the thinning, scrub-lined path. At the edge of the loch, a hundred shirtless warriors wielded swords in a battle of strength against one another. Another hundred swam toward a small island in the middle of the waterway. “That’s some training.”

“Our enemies dinnae lie idle, and neither may we.”

Among the half-naked men, Calum swung his two-handed claymore down on his opponent’s. His shoulders and arms were thick, strong, and packed with muscle. A healthy sheen of sweat glistened across his glorious abs. He shoved forward and the force of his move sent the warrior he fought against stumbling backward. So impressive.

“Mother!” Hector raced down the trail toward them, his red hair a bright beacon of color amongst the green of the moors.

“Slow down or you’ll trip and fall.” Margaret caught him as he plowed into her. “Oomph.”

“I have a message for you from Betsie.” His breath came hard and fast. “She said Bethag fell and cries for you.”

“Oh dear.” She spun and faced Lila. “My daughter. She’s learning to walk. I must go and see she’s well. I’ll return soon and”—she leaned in and squeezed her hands—“sneak your bag out as I do.”

“Thank you. I must leave without anyone seeing.”

“’Twill be done.” Margaret hurried after Hector.

One quick goodbye with Calum, and then she’d be away.

She threaded through the battling men, all far too intent on killing each other, as if they were each other’s mortal enemy. If this was training, she shuddered to think what an actual battle would look like. She darted through then fell in behind the one she was after. “Calum, I—”

He jerked around. “Lila? What are you—”

“Behind you, Calum.”

The warrior he battled swung his sword.