Highland Moon Box Set

  "five dozen swords, and nearly that many shields," I heard my laird tell his steward.

  "How many dead, my laird?" Chamberlain wondered.

  "Enough to make the Menzies clan fear us," my laird assured him. He spied me in the doorway and his face brightened. My laird walked over and bowed to me. "My lady, you are a sight for sore eyes after such bloodshed."

  "Were there no survivors?" I asked him.

  My laird straightened and nodded. "We found their tracks as they fled back from whence they came, but we dared not follow. Their dead are buried and our people rebuild."

  A stable boy took charge of my laird's horse and Chamberlain joined us. "Is the damage great, my laird?" he inquired.

  "Not so great that they will not be ready by the first snow fall," Tristan assured him. "And when the snow retreats we will be ready for them."

  Chamberlain raised an eyebrow. "My laird?" he wondered.

  Tristan smiled and set his hand on Chamberlain's back to guide him inside. "Come. I will speak to you of my plans at breakfast."

  CHAPTER 25

  We stepped into the entrance hall and Tristan paused to admire the great multitude of flowers, meat, and coins. Chamberlain's assistant bowed to him and stepped aside so our laird could take full view of his riches and his peoples' thanks. Tristan walked forward and plucked a flower from among one of the bouquets.

  "What an interesting day you have led yourself, Chamberlain," Tristan commented as he sniffed the flower.

  "There has been a great many gifts," Chamberlain agreed.

  "And much apprehension, I would bet," Tristan added.

  Chamberlain bowed his head. "It is so, my laird."

  "We shall see to that trouble," Tristan assured him. He walked over to us and held out the flower to me. "A beauty for a beauty."

  I smiled and took the flower in hand. "Thank you, my laird."

  "Now to the hall and to much talk," Tristan commanded us.

  We moved to the dining hall and took our seats at the head of the table. A small feast was brought to us, and when the last plate was placed and the last goblet filled Tristan turned to the serving women.

  "Leave us," he ordered them. They bowed and left us to our food and talk. My laird took a few forkfuls of food and glanced at Chamberlain. "Now tell me what has been said, and do not mince the details."

  Chamberlain pursed his lips, but bowed his head. "There has been much talk of sorcery being the source of your victory last night."

  "Our victory," Tristan corrected him.

  "That, also, is a matter of dispute among your subjects," Chamberlain replied.

  Tristan's smile fell a little. He leaned back in his chair and cupped his chin in one hand. "I see. I have known you long enough to know you have some wisdom to impart on me."

  Chamberlain bowed his head. "Aye, I do, my laird. I think it wise to present yourself to your subjects on a viewing of your land, and to lower the taxes upon them."

  A smile slipped onto my laird's lips and he nodded his head. "You never cease to fulfill my expectations with your wisdom, Chamberlain."

  Chamberlain bowed his head. "Forever in your service, my laird."

  A strange twinkling slipped into Tristan's eyes. "An intriguing offer, but we are stuck in the matters at hand, and I believe I might have a more immediate way to please my people. We shall return one quarter of the taxes being given this year."

  Chamberlain raised an eyebrow. "My laird?"

  Tristan chuckled. "Is it so unbelievable? My subjects will see I am more lenient than my father, and that I am swift in action."

  "But the treasury, my laird" Chamberlain protested. "Your father spent a great deal of money-" Our laird held up his hand and silenced the steward.

  "The treasury is not in dire need of refilling, and I have found that my father spent unnecessarily on projects which have been discontinued," Tristan assured him.

  "Projects, my laird?" Chamberlain asked him.

  Tristan clasped his hands in front of him and a dark look passed over his face. "Aye. My father enlisted the services of people who are no longer of need-" my mind hearkened back to Bean Lyel and her magic, "-and the expensive wedding that was to take place soon has been called off. That alone will ensure the treasury will survive whatever costs I incur. That is, until the spring."

  "What is to take place in the spring?" Chamberlain wondered.

  A sly smile slipped onto our laird's face. "I and my people grow weary of these raids. I believe it is time we return an eye for an eye."

  "War, my laird?" his steward guessed.

  Tristan gave a nod. "Aye, and a war where god is assured to be on our side."

  Chamberlain's face paled. "But how can you promise such a thing, my laird? God's will may very well turn against our intentions."

  My laird leaned forward and clasped one of my hands in his own. "Because we will have my angel here to guide us."

  My eyes widened and I shook my head. "I am but a simple woman, my laird," I protested. "I have no ability to call upon God."

  He shook his head. "But you do. You proved that at the last battle when you called upon the fog to avert our eyes from the carnage."

  "A mere matter of luck," I insisted.

  My laird patted my hand and straightened in his chair. "I do not believe in luck nor fortune. A man's life is what he wills it to be, and I will it that we shall expand our boundaries to protect our interests and none shall stop us."

  I glanced at Chamberlain. His lips were pursed tightly together and one of his hands tightly gripped the edge of the table, but he bowed his head.

  "As you will it, my laird," Chamberlain swore.

  Our laird smiled and patted Chamberlain on the shoulder. "Such gloom on the eve of such promise! I swear on my father's grave that should I err in my promise then I shall quit the whole campaign and settle down to a life of blissful peace and tranquility, and you shall cater to me in my fat old age."

  The last comment elicited a smile from Chamberlain's dour face. "I thank you, my laird, for such an opportunity."

  Tristan laughed and raised his goblet. "And we shall drink to that!" Chamberlain raised his goblet, and my laird looked to me. "My lady should not feel excluded. You, too, shall enjoy a fat old age."

  I blushed and raised my goblet. "If it shall be only with you, my laird, then I shall drink to it."

  My laird smiled and turned to Chamberlain. "There. That is why god will not abandon us in our endeavor. Such innocence will never be relinquished, though she be a hundred winters of age."

  "Innocence is a thing of precious beauty, my laird," Chamberlain agreed.

  Tristan raised his glass higher and smiled at both of us. "Then here's to old age and ageless innocence."

  We clinked our glasses together and drank a toast to our cherished ideals and hopes. Soon our feast was over and Chamberlain stood.

  "If it pleases my laird, I must attend to the taxes and their return," he reminded Tristan.

  "It does not please me to lose your good company, but I understand why you must leave and give my permission," Tristan agreed.

  Chamberlain bowed his head and left our company. My laird leaned back in his chair and swirled the contents of his goblet. His happy demeanor slipped into serious contemplation. For a long while there was quiet between us and in the long hall.

  "Do you think me foolish?" he spoke up.

  "In what regards, my laird?" I returned.

  He chuckled. "Then you do think me foolish in some regards?"

  I shook my head. "No, my laird. I only meant-" He held up a hand.

  "I know what you meant, and apologize for the vague question. I asked in regards to my future plans," he explained.

  I bit my lower lip and stared down at my empty plate. "I know not what to think of it, my laird. I am merely a woman of low birth and cannot understand-"

  "I won't have that as an answer," he interrupted. He leaned forward and studied my face. "An honest answer from one of low birth is wo
rth more than two lies from royalty. I wish for your opinion, and surely you have that."

  "I. . .I believe it is very ambitious," I admitted.

  A smile slipped onto his lips and he sat back in his chair. "Yes. That's the exact word I believe Chamberlain would use."

  I studied my laird's face for a moment as he fell back into deep thought. "How long have you been acquainted with Chamberlain?" I asked him.

  "He's been the steward to our family for a decade, and before that his father was steward," he explained. His eyes flickered to me. "But I am surprised you aren't more worried about a particular part of my plan. You are as important a part to my ambitions as the sword at my side."

  "I think you make a terrible jest of me, my laird," I protested. "I am not as wonderful nor as special as you make me out to be."

  He chuckled and took a sip of his wine. "I will admit you have some changes through which to go, but those shall happen after my father's funeral." I felt the color drain from my face as I recalled the troubled rumors of the old Laird Campbell's death. "I see his death still troubles you," Tristan commented.

  I turned my face away. "I. . .there were horrible rumors after his death. Ones I dare not repeat."

  "They accused me of murdering my father, did they not?" he guessed. I gave a single nod. "And do you believe them?"

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The voices inside me stopped their squabbling as the deepest one won out against my better judgment. "I believe that I love you, and that should you commit blasphemy I will follow you into the depths of Hell to be with you."

  I started when my chair moved so the front faced away from the table. My eyes flew open and I found myself staring down at my laird who knelt in front of me. His eyes were wide and pleading, and he searched my face. His voice was full of hope and doubt.

  "Do you mean what you say?" he whispered to me.

  I smiled and cupped his cheek in my hand as he had done to me so many times. "Every word," I swore.

  His face was brightened by a wide smile. He swept his hands under my arms and pulled me from my seat so he could swing me in a wide, fast circle.

  "My love! My beautiful goddess!" he yelled.

  "My laird!" I gasped.

  He set me down and wrapped me in a tight, warm hug. "I have waited so long for you, my love, and yet I dreamed I would have to wait forever to find such a creature as you."

  I blushed at such praise, but I clasped his shirt folds in my hands. "I am but glad to be of use to you, my laird."

  He pulled me to arm's length and smiled at me. "Use? You are not merely a plaything for me, my goddess. You are a creature of infinite beauty and wisdom."

  "My laird, you speak such blasphemy," I scolded him.

  "I speak the truth, and no god need fear me for speaking the truth if they are a god worth worshiping," he argued.

  "But we mustn't-" He pressed one of his fingers to my lips and caught my eyes with his own bright gaze.

  "I have a test for you, my goddess," he told me. He stepped back and offered me his hand. "Will you come with me?"

  I shuddered, but took his warm hand. "You will lead and I will follow," I promised.

  "Then follow me."

  CHAPTER 26

  My laird led me from the dining hall and to the rear of the entrance hall. A pair of doors against the wall beneath the balcony led to the garden. The mid-morning sun shone down on us as we stepped out into the withered greenery. The raised beds built of stone and earth held plants blasted with the unforgiving cold of the first frost. All the beauty was gone save for a lone plant here and there.

  The stone paths that started at the doors encircled a dry central fountain and wound their way to the hill. Old shrubbery grew against the hillside and flanked a large, heavy oak door that led into the depths of the earths. A half dozen steps led to a landing in front of the door, and a heavy, rusted brass handle allowed one entrance.

  My laird guided me down the few wooden steps and we stood before the tall, arched door. He moved us so we faced each other with ours sides to the entrance and he clasped our hands together.

  "My father has been laid to rest here, in the earthen vault of our family," he informed me.

  I furrowed my brow. "But is not the funeral-"

  "Tomorrow? Aye, but I thought it prudent to keep his body from prying eyes," he admitted.

  My heart beat faster. "But what harm would it do?"

  "A great deal of harm to both of us. Let me show you," he pleaded.

  My laird pushed open the door and a waft of grave dust flew past us. The crypt was carved twenty feet into the hill with hollowed out niches on either wall that were stacked three high. Many of the niches were filled with wooden coffins, and nameplates above the niches held the names, dates, and a few brief details about the deceased. A few sarcophagus stood on tall pedestals in the center of the long room with raised images of their interred carved from stone atop the lids.

  My laird lit one of the torches on either side of the entrance just inside the door and clasped my hand in his. He pulled me down the long line of coffins and empty niches to the rear wall. A fresh coffin of oak wood was placed in the center niche, and the light from the torch glistened off the nameplate so that I could read the contents.

  Kynan Campbell, Twelfth Laird of Castle Campbell. Gone, but never forgotten.

  "Try as I might, I shall never forget him as long as I live," my laird admitted.

  My laird placed the torch in a nearby holder set in the wall and gently pushed me back. He wrapped his arms around the width of the coffin and pulled the box from the wall. I watched amazed as he set the coffin on the floor. The resting box must have weighed several hundred pounds, and yet he managed its moving without so much as a grunt.

  Tristan grabbed the torch from the wall and beckoned to me. "If you dare know it then I will show you the truth."

  My body shook as I stepped forward to stand at his side. My laird raised the lid and revealed his father as I had last seen him on the bed. He was dressed in his finest clothes and there was a strange tenseness to his face. Tristan knelt down and took the tall collar in one hand. He pulled down the cloth to reveal his father's neck.

  Though the blood was cleaned and the flesh stitched together, I could see that the old Laird Campbell's throat had been viciously mauled. Jagged bits of flesh poked through the stitches and were a testament to the fangs that had torn his life from him.

  I covered my hand with my mouth and turned away from the ghastly sight. My laird placed the torch into its holder and set his hands on my shoulders. He leaned down so he whispered in my ears.

  "Do you understand the truth?" he asked me. I shut my eyes and nodded. My laird had killed his father, and in a manner so vicious as to leave those telling wounds. "What will you do?"

  I had no answer to give to him. My body trembled with a mortal fear for my own throat.

  My laird turned me around and cupped my chin in his hand. I opened my eyes and looked into his face. His expression held no remorse, but there was determination in his firm eyes.

  "I murdered my father for the good of us and our people," he told me. "He was a madman bent on destroying me, and in time he would have become aware of our relationship and killed you, as well."

  I clutched onto his shirt. "But why? Why did your father despise you so? What is it that makes you so different from everyone else?"

  A bitter smile slipped onto his lips. "I told you my mother fell out of favor with my father, and she died not many years after."

  I nodded. "Aye, but-"

  "I believe my father murdered her."

  I started back. My eyes grew wide and I shook my head. "No. How could-"

  "How could a husband ever murder his wife by poison? Because she was not as she appeared," he told me. His eyes swept over me and his gentle smile returned. "Which leads us to your other question, but have you not guessed it? Do you not recognize one of your own worshipers, my goddess?"

  I shook my head
and stepped back out of his reach. "I am no goddess. I have no worshipers. I am-"

  "You are more than you understand," he insisted. He stepped up to me and grasped my upper arms. His eyes caught mine and I felt myself falling into his warm, heated gaze. "I am a creature of the full moon. A man who is not a man, but something more."

  I cupped my face in my hands and shook my head as I tried to block out the plain truth. "Please no! Tell me no more!"

  He pulled me closer to himself and I tried to separate us, but he was too strong. His iron-clasped hands held me to him. "I have the ability to change my form into that of a wolf creature, and I have chosen you as my bride."

  I shuddered and turned my face up to him. Tears poured down my cheeks. "Why? Why have you chosen me to linger with you in this sinfulness?"

  His smile softened and he tilted his head to one side. "I am a cursed man, but this curse does not make my actions evil. I have chosen you because I saw in you much potential."

  "But I am no monster!" I insisted.

  "And do you believe me one?" he returned.

  "I. . ." My words caught in my throat.

  I had meant to answer in the affirmative as all the church teachings and words spoken by my elders commanded me, but I found I could not. The voice inside me, the voice that desired to belong to this man-no, this creature-held sway over my choices. I was a prisoner to its decisions as surely as my laird was a prisoner to his curse.

  A triumphant smile slipped onto his lips. "I see your answer in your eyes, my goddess, and I am very glad for it."

  I shuddered and turned my face away. "Why do you call me that?" I whispered.

  "Because I worship you as surely as the villagers worship their god," he replied.

  I looked to him and furrowed my brow. "But do you not-" He shook his head.

  "No. My god-my goddess-is only you, my love." He cupped my chin in his hands once more and leaned down to plant a teasing kiss on my lips. His warmth breath blew over my face and I inhaled his wonderful, musky scent. "And on the night of the full moon-tomorrow night-I will worship you in all your glory. For now, though, we should leave this hole. A tomb is no place for a goddess of your radiance."

  My laird extinguished the torch and we were plunged into darkness, but I had no fear. I was in his trance, the control that his being held over me. He clasped one of my hands in his and led me through the darkness and out into the light. The door was shut behind us, and we stepped onto the plain of the dead garden. He tilted his head up and gazed at the clear, cool wintry sky. I followed his eyes and noticed the large, dim moon above us. Its true brilliance would not be known until the night.