Highland Heaven

  “We could lay some traps, to catch them unawares,” Edan called suddenly.

  Shaw’s attention shifted. “What sort of traps?”

  “Father once spoke of setting traps to catch his enemies,” the boy explained. “Ofttimes they were nothing more than deep pits, covered by leaves and branches.”

  Shaw stared at the lad in amazement, then burst into laughter. “By heaven, the tutor has much to learn from his pupil. That is precisely what we shall do, Edan. I will begin digging the pit at once.”

  “I will help.” Merritt slid to the ground and picked up a shovel.

  “Nay.” Shaw caught her hand in his, stilling her movements.

  “You may be strong, lass, but I’ll not have your hands raw and bloody from turning the soil.”

  Merritt’s throat went dry. Why did the touch of this man always cause such unsettling feelings? For the merest whisper of time she thought about standing still, just so, to allow herself the luxury of his touch. But out of the corner of her eye she could see her little brother watching her closely and knew that her high color gave her away. She took a step back, forcing him to break contact.

  “You can fetch branches and leaves,’ Shaw said, “while I dig.”

  Merritt reluctantly scampered off to the woods, returning a short time later dragging branches and tree limbs. Again and again she made the trip from the woods and back, until the ground beside the animal pen was littered with enough greenery to cover several pits.

  By the time evening shadows grew long, she and Edan could no longer see the top of Shaw’s head as he labored in the deep hole. And when nighttime fell and Astra summoned them to sup, Shaw crawled from the hole with the aid of a rope tied to a tree. Together he and Merritt covered the hole, then carefully examined the fruit of their long afternoon of labor. With the branches and leaves in place, there was no trace of the yawning chasm that lay in wait for anyone attempting to make off with the horses.

  “We will all sleep better this night, my lady,” Shaw said as he pulled on his shirt and tunic, “because of the cleverness of this fine young lad.”

  With ease he lifted Edan in his arms and settled him high upon his shoulders. The boy clung to Shaw’s head and let out a whoop of joy.

  As they made their way inside, Merritt saw the flush that colored her brother’s cheeks, and marveled that a single word of praise from this Campbell could make the lad so happy.

  “Venison again,” Upton complained as Astra served their meal. “I had hoped for mutton.”

  “M’laird should be grateful—” the old woman began, but a look from Sabina cut her off in midsentence.

  “I told Astra to cook the rest of the deer before any sheep were slaughtered, Father.” Sabina filled his goblet with ale.

  “A wise decision,” he muttered as he savored fresh spring vegetables. “Even the laird should be above wasting heaven’s bounty.”

  Noting the sad look on Merrit’s face, Shaw sensed that she was grieving for the sheep that had been stolen. Again he marveled at the secrets she and the others had managed to keep from their father.

  “And to atone for having no mutton, Father, Astra has baked her spirit-soaked cake, laden with currants and bits of fruit.” Edan’ s voice was tinged with excitement.

  “And how would you know that?” Merritt asked. “Did you peek in the kitchen?”

  The boy laughed. “Astra whispered her secret, for she knows it is my favorite.”

  “And mine.” Upton turned to Shaw and his smile dissolved into a frown of annoyance. “A sound of ax against wood assaulted my ears this day. Would you know anything about that, Campbell?”

  “He was assisting the men in cutting more logs,” Merritt put in quickly.

  “That is work that is best left to the servants. I would think a Campbell warrior could put his strength to better use by engaging in a few battles with the local villains. Besides, splitting logs ought to be work considered too demeaning for the grand and glorious Campbells.” Upton seemed about to pontificate further on his favorite subject when Astra entered the great hall carrying her cake sliced into large portions. At once Upton’s mood lightened. “Brinda knows that this is my favorite confection. That must be why she baked it for me.”

  Everyone around the table visibly tensed. Though the mere mention of his wife always seemed to soothe Upton Lamont, it pained his children to see how his mind tricked him into believing she was still with them.

  “’Twas probably what made me choose her for my bride,” Upton muttered as he polished off his portion and waited for Astra to serve him another. “At my first bite, I thought I’d tasted heaven.”

  He glanced up, fixing his older daughter with a look. “Has your mother taught you the secret of her cake yet?”

  “Nay, Father. But... soon,” Sabina said haltingly.

  “It is one of woman’s finest weapons,” he said sharply. “What man can refuse to take as his bride a female who can bake such as this?” He studied the dark-haired girl over the rim of his goblet. “Ofttimes I neglect to notice that you are growing up, Sabina. A pretty thing, is she not, Campbell?”

  “Aye.” Shaw ducked his head after glancing at the lass, whose cheeks had turned crimson under her father’s scrutiny.

  “Soon,” Upton said fiercely, “I will arrange a marriage between you and the son of one of our Highland lairds. Any clan would be willing, nay eager, to lay claim to such, since, along with a fine dowry, I will give my pledge of protection.” He peered at Sabina, who kept her gaze averted. “There are probably those who will even go to war for the hand of a daughter of Lamont of Argyll, for there is not a better match to be made in all of Scotland.”

  Their father’s glance slid to Merritt, who, unlike her sister, held her head high and met his look squarely. “And what am I to do with you, lass? You have neither your mother’s comely looks nor your sister’s sweet disposition.”

  “As you have so often said, I am my father’s daughter.”

  “So it would seem.” Upton scowled. “How the gods mock me. They send me a fine, brave son whose courage cost him his legs...”

  At that, Edan pushed aside his cake and sat with head bowed and eyes downcast.

  “Cast aside your fears, lad. Soon enough your strength will return and you shall walk.”

  He turned to Merritt. “Aye. And the gods send me a daughter whose spirit outshines any man’s and who refuses to behave like a female.”

  Merritt’s spine seemed to stiffen even more. Her father glowered at the lass, who refused to back down even in the face of his wrath. “You have resisted all attempts to learn the maidenly arts. I fear even a dowry of regal proportions and an army of swords pledged to the clan of your betrothed will bring no offers for your hand.”

  “It’s just as well, Father,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll not be bargained for like a brood mare.”

  “A brood mare!” His temper blazed. “It was no brood mare I saw when I looked into your mother’s eyes. Nor was it—”

  “More cake?” Astra asked, sliding yet another portion in front of him.

  Distracted, Upton’s voice trailed off and he sighed with pleasure as he filled his mouth. At once, his temper was forgotten.

  Merritt patted her brother’s hand and whispered something that caused him to put aside the pain inflicted by his father’s carelessly spoken words. Soon the lad was eating again, though his smile faltered from time to time.

  Shaw studied the people seated around the table. They were certainly not what he’d expected to find at Inverene House. The fierce warrior, Upton, seemed nothing more than a shell of a man, his mind dwelling in the past while his body slowly failed him. Yet, despite his often unkind words, his family continued to honor and respect him, and there were times when Shaw saw remnants of the man he must have been. Upton’s three children were decidedly distinct. Sabina had the manner and bearing of a queen. Merritt burned as brightly as a wildfire. And Edan had the quick mind of a scholar. But what was most appealing
to Shaw was the way they all worked together for the common good. If a fire was needed, they would provide it, even if it meant sacrificing opulent furniture. If a stolen flock needed retrieving, they would see to it, no matter how dangerous to life and limb.

  “What of you, Campbell?” Merritt asked. “You have eaten little. Do you not care for Astra’s confection?”

  Shaw pulled himself back from his thoughts. “The food is fine. My compliments, Astra.”

  The old servant acknowledged his kind words with a nod of her head as she circled the table, refilling goblets. Soon Upton pushed away from the table, and the others followed suit. When the older man made his way to a chair in front of the fire, Shaw lifted Edan in his arms and placed him on a nearby settle, while Sabina made ready to play her harp.

  Merritt glanced at Shaw. “Would you care for another lesson on the board?”

  He saw her sly smile and couldn’t help returning it. “I would welcome the chance to best you, my lady. But I have spent little enough time with my brother this day. If you will excuse me, I would go to him now.”

  “When you have finished with him, I will be here to challenge you, Campbell,” Merritt called to his retreating back.

  He smiled at the haughty tone. A challenge. Aye. She was that.

  Sabina’ s nearly bare chambers were softened by the glow of a fire burning on the grate. From below stairs could be heard the music of the harp, and Sabina’s voice lifted in song.

  Inside the room all was silent, save for the occasional hissing of the log on the hearth, and the slow ragged breathing of the figure on the pallet.

  Shaw knelt beside the bed and studied the beloved face of his brother. Sutton’s chin was now covered by a shaggy growth of golden beard. Dark circles rimmed his closed eyes. His skin was pale and chalky, stretched tautly across high, firm cheekbones.

  A moan escaped Sutton’s lips. Instantly Shaw touched a hand to the pulse at his throat and was relieved by the steady rhythm he detected.

  “You grow stronger, Sutton. Soon, I know, you shall rid yourself of this demon that holds you in its grip. Then shall you rise from your pallet of pain and become once more the brave, strong, impulsive warrior whose courage inspires men and whose clever wit charms women.”

  He continued in the same soothing tone, “I miss you, Sutton. I feel lost without the sound of your taunts and teasing laughter.” Shaw knew he was saying these things more to comfort himself than his sleeping brother, but now that he had begun, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. There was so much in his heart that he needed to say. So much love. So much concern for this once strong, virile man who now lay as helpless as a wee bairn.

  “My life is meaningless without you. It is as though I am only half-alive. A part of my heart slumbers, while the rest of it struggles to continue beating. Throughout the day, while I work at mundane chores, my thoughts are of you. Even at night, my sleep is disturbed with troubling images. I feel your pain, Sutton. I share your discomfort. Come back to me.”

  As a shadow crossed the threshold, Shaw looked up to see Astra’s stooped figure silhouetted in the doorway. She wore the troubled look of one who was frozen in fear and seemed poised to flee at any moment.

  “Enter,” he called.

  He saw the way she hesitated before obeying. Obviously she had overheard much of what he’d confided to his brother, and the old servant had decided that he was a fool or a madman, It mattered not to Shaw, and he offered no explanation. Let others think what they would. He cared only that his brother would awaken, and they could leave this sad, troubled family and their problems far behind and get on with their own lives.

  As Astra crossed the room she muttered, “My lady Sabina ordered me to fetch some hot mulled wine.”

  “Thank you. It is the only thing my brother seems willing to swallow.” He took the goblet from her hands and, cradling Sutton’s head in his lap, began to force the liquid between his lips.

  Sutton managed several swallows before he turned his head aside, refusing any more.

  Shaw handed the drink over to the servant. “Set it aside, Astra. Mayhap he will take some more before I leave him.”

  The old servant did as she was told, all the while keeping a close watch on the two of them. Shaw struggled not to laugh, though some demon inside him tempted him to begin ranting and raving like a man possessed. It took all his willpower to resist. He had no doubt the old woman would flee the house as though the devil himself were after her, and would most probably never allow herself to return.

  She’d convinced herself that he and his twin were some sort of evil spirits. So be it. He would not attempt to disabuse her of her thoughts.

  He returned his attention to his brother, wiping the dampness from Sutton’s fevered brow, smoothing the covers up to his chest, all the while crooning words meant to soothe.

  “It seems strange to see you lying so motionless. You’ve always been the impatient one, whether facing foe on the field of battle or plying your charms on the lasses. You used to accuse me of spending precious time abed that could be better used honing my skills with broadsword and mallet.”

  A haunted smile touched his lips. “Ah, my brother, the time we wasted on foolish rivalry. Remember how Dillon used to box our ears whenever the fighting got out of hand? How wise he was, knowing that we would instinctively put aside our differences to stand together against anyone who threatened us. And how we would fight him.” Laughter warmed his words. “We would come at him with our fists, only to find ourselves suddenly sprawled on our backs, bruised and bloody. He tossed aside our jabs like a stallion fending off errant colts.”

  Across the room, old Astra huddled before the fire, watching and listening. In all her years, she had never before met a man like this Campbell. There was unusual gentleness beneath all that strength. A goodness that he kept hidden beneath a mask of danger. Humility beneath a guise of arrogance. And above all, love shining through all his words and actions. Love for this brother who had his face.

  Putting aside her fear, she picked up the goblet and approached Shaw. “Mayhap ye could force a few more drops down his throat,” she said softly.

  Surprised, Shaw looked up. Holding out his hand, he said, “Aye. Thank you, Astra. You may go now and see to the others.”

  The old woman needed no coaxing. Shaw watched as she made her way from the room, then lifted his brother’s head and bent to the task of forcing liquid to Sutton’s lips.

  “God in heaven!”

  At his muttered exclamation, the old servant hastily retraced her steps and found him, head bent, hand paused in midair.

  Sutton’s lids had suddenly opened. Blue-green eyes were peering into Shaw’s with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Praise God, you have awakened.”

  “And why would I not?” Sutton winced, then gingerly touched a hand to his temple. “How much ale did I drink? My head is on fire.”

  “I’ve no doubt of that, after the wounds you suffered. But it was not ale, my brother, that put you down. ‘Twas the dirks and arrows that found your back.”

  “Dirks? Arrows?” Sutton closed his eyes a moment, obviously dazed and troubled. When he opened them he glanced around the bleak, barren room and asked, “What is this place? I know it not.”

  “Inverene House.”

  Sutton stiffened. “The fortress of our enemy?”

  “Aye.”

  “Are we their prisoners, then?”

  ‘Nay.” Shaw shook his head quickly, to calm the alarm he could read in his brother’s eyes. “Do you recall leaving Kinloch House to confront Upton Lamont?”

  Sutton nodded, but it was plain that he could barely recall anything.

  “When you did not return after several days, I came searching for you, and found you here, near death’s door.”

  “Ah. And did you slay the cursed Lamonts?”

  “I merely overpowered them, and ordered them to see well to your care or they would answer
to me.”

  “You!” Humor danced in Sutton’s eyes as he looked up at his gentle brother. His gaze moved from the familiar, beloved face to the unfamiliar tunic, bearing the Lamont crest, and to the jeweled hilt at his waist, something he had never seen before upon his brother’s person. “You look different. Mayhap it is the strange clothes.”

  Shaw flushed. “My own were burned.”

  “Is that our father’s sword in your scabbard?”

  “It is. Though I have not as yet had to use it.”

  “You overpowered the Lamont army without a weapon?”

  Shaw sighed. There was so much to explain. “I will tell you everything in time. But first, you must give me the names of those who attacked you, so that I may keep my vow to avenge this foul deed.”

  Sutton passed a hand over his eyes. “I recall a hooded figure. Mayhap... whispered voices. I know not. My brain seems befuddled.”

  “’Tis but a momentary lapse,” Shaw said softly. “It will come back to you in time. And when it does, I will seek out those who did this, and they will pay dearly. For now, it is enough to know that you have returned to the land of the living. Rest now, my brother, and conserve your strength for the days to come.”

  Sutton needed no encouragement to close his eyes. These few moments had left him too weary to do otherwise.

  “You will be here when I awake?”

  “You know I will, Sutton. I have vowed to remain until you and I can leave this place together.”

  “Together.” The word was a whispered sigh.

  Shaw knelt beside the pallet, watching the steady rise and fall of his brother’s chest. He had never known anything to give him such pleasure. His joy at his brother’s awakening filled him with renewed energy.