Healing the Tormented Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Read online

  Down below, was a small village and at the base of the far-off hill, nestled amongst trees and next to a gushing waterfall, its trail wending down the hillside, there lay a castle. It was a formidable-looking place, its squat and solid keep surrounded by a high wall, built of grey rock through which led a great gate, with a banner fluttering above. Ceana shuddered, a tear in her eye, as she wondered now what her fate would be.

  “And if I refuse to go with ye to wherever wicked place ye intend to take me??” she asked, and he laughed

  “To Mhaol Chalium? ‘Tis nay wicked place, lass. ‘Tis the seat of the Laird. He will be very pleased to meet ye, I am sure,” the soldier replied.

  “I told ye, ye are makin’ a mistake. I am nay one, just a healer from the south,” she said, but the soldier only laughed again.

  “That is for the Laird to decide, lass. Ye will meet him soon enough and I am sure he will have questions for ye. ‘Tis nae often that we return with such an interestin’ prize as ye,” he replied, laughing. “Come now men, breakfast awaits us and the thanks of silver for this lass, who I am sure the Laird will be very happy to meet.”

  Ceana tried her best to sit up, but her hands were bound, and she almost slipped from the horse, as the party of soldiers arrived at the great gates of Mhaol Chalium. From the battlements above came a cry, a soldier’s voice echoing through the early morning air. A mist hung about the castle and through it, Ceana could vaguely see the man’s outline far up above, as she struggled with the ropes that bound her.

  “Hail there, soldiers of Mhaol Chalium, identify yerselves, which patrol are ye?” the one above cried out.

  “‘Tis Andrew Macready and his men, fresh from the heathers. Inform the Laird that we have a gift for him, a gift he will be very pleased to receive,” the soldier called back, as the others laughed.

  “The Laird has not yet risen. What gift is it that ye have for him?” the one above called back.

  “He will see soon enough. Open the gates, my men are hungry and eager for rest,” the soldier replied.

  The gates were slowly opened, creaking on their great hinges, as the grim courtyard beyond was revealed. Ceana was shaking with nerves, but gradually there was coming over her a determination to survive. These men had not yet harmed her, even though they had deprived her of liberty and mistreated her. They could have killed her, but instead they had decided to make her a trophy, a fact which might be used to her advantage.

  She knew she must remain strong if she was to prevail and gradually an account of herself was forming in her mind. Perhaps she could use this situation to her advantage and find a way to secure herself help for the future. The Laird may be a reasonable man, though she feared that he could be a tyrant. Only time would tell.

  Inside the courtyard, the men unsaddled their horses and Ceana was pulled roughly down from the horse. She was unsteady on her feet, her body aching from the uncomfortable ride across the heathers. They cut loose the cords which bound her hands but as the gates of the castle closed behind her, Ceana knew there was no hope of escape.

  The walls towered high up above her, and the keep stood forebodingly in front. She wondered if anyone had ever escaped from this grim and lonely place, as around her the soldiers of the guard eyed her with interest.

  “What is this ye have brought here, Andrew Macready?” one of them said, looking with interest at Ceana, who kept her head bowed down, refusing to catch the gaze of any of them.

  “A gift for the Laird. She was makin’ her way across the heathers alone. We told her ‘tis a dangerous thing to be doin’ for a young lass,” Andrew replied and the other laughed.

  “And so ye thought ye would take her out of danger by bringin’ her here?” the other replied.

  “The Laird will see to her, I am sure,” Andrew said, and more laughter ensued.

  “Take her inside then, the household will be rousin’ by now and if she remains out here then she will distract the men from their duties. ‘Tis nae often that they see such a bonnie wee lass within these walls,” the other replied.

  “The men will dae well to keep those thoughts to themselves. ‘Tis the Laird to whom she goes,” Andrew replied, and he took hold of Ceana’s arm and led her towards the doors of the keep, as around her the soldiers murmured and whispered to one another.

  But whether it was a natural reaction or the necessity of the situation in which she now found herself, Ceana had found a new courage within herself. She would not be intimidated by these men nor by their all-powerful Laird, whoever he may be. She would tell the story which had begun to form in her mind, a story to keep her and the key safe, one which she hoped her grandmother would be proud of.

  The castle keep was dark and poorly lit, the occasional flaming torch upon the wall, or candle burning in an alcove. There were few windows, arrow slits to the outside which, despite the brightness of the early morning sun, allowed little light to enter the grim passageways she was led down.

  There was much hustle and bustle going on and servants were hurrying back and forth, whilst clansmen and soldiers went about their early morning business. Ceana was not used to so many people and several of them stared at her in curiosity as they passed, her presence clearly a point of remark.

  They came to a flight of steps, wide and hung on either side with tapestries, at the top of which were a pair of double doors over which hung a large coat of arms. Here they paused, and Andrew turned to Ceana and looked her up and down, a smile upon his face.

  “The Laird will be pleased to greet ye, but speak only when ye are spoken to. I shall introduce ye. Remain outside the Great Hall with the others and I shall call ye in,” he said, and she nodded.

  There was no point in arguing now and certainly not in trying to escape. Ceana had no plan as she rode across the moorlands, no inclination of where she and Dewney might go to keep her grandmother’s key safe. Here was as good as anywhere and perhaps in all of this would come an opportunity to secure her safety. But she could hear her grandmother’s words regarding the key, to keep it secret and safe. She could feel its weight around her neck, but Ceana had no intention of telling this Laird, or any other man, of the treasure she possessed, and as the doors to the Great Hall swung open, Ceana steeled herself for what was now to come.

  She was led up the steps and waited just outside the door, surrounded by the posse of soldiers who had taken her at the copse. She could see down the length of the vast hall, which was hung with portraits on either wall. Trestle tables ran the length of it and at the end, upon a raised dais, was the high table, behind which sat a man who could be none other than Raghnall MacCramhain.

  He was younger than she had expected him to be, no older than about thirty, with a short beard and jet-black hair. He was far from the fearsome man she had imagined, for the soldiers had spoken of him in awe and it had seemed to Ceana that he was a man to be feared. Instead, what she saw was a kindly-looking man, who had just concluded some joke or other and was laughing heartily.

  He was attractive, immensely so, tall and handsomely built. His black hair flowed down his shoulders and his eyes were bright and keen, like no man she had ever seen, his presence commanding, and despite the precarious nature of her situation Ceana could not help but be drawn to him, both by his looks and his mannerism.

  “Ah, Macready, ye return from yer patrol, I see. What dangers have ye discovered on the border? Any signs of the English upon our lands? Yer men must be hungry, let them come and have breakfast with us,” the Laird said, pointing to the tables and a steaming vat suspended above the fire, which could only be porridge.

  “An interestin’ night, Laird. Though nay English upon the road. ‘Tis rare now that they cross the border, nae when we guard it so well,” Andrew replied.

  “Ye and yer men dae much to keep us safe, come and sit down, ye must rest,” the Laird replied, beckoning the man forward.

  But Andrew paused, a smile playing over his face, as he glanced back towards the doorway.

  “I have somethin’ for ye though, Laird. Somethin’ ye will be interested in, I am sure,’’ he replied.

  “‘Tis an early hour to be presentin’ gifts, Andrew,” the Laird replied, laughing.

  “‘Tis a person, nae a gift. We found her ridin’ on the road north. Where she was goin’ and what she was doin’ on our lands she wouldnae say. We couldnae allow her to go onwards, nae when the road is so fraught with danger, and so we brought her back here instead. A gift for ye, Laird,” Andrew replied and the Laird laughed.

  “The gift of a lass at breakfast, ‘tis a fine way to begin the day. Very well, where is this mysterious lass? Perhaps she will tell us her story,” he said, and Andrew turned, beckoning towards Ceana, who walked meekly into the Great Hall.

  A hushed silence now descended, and all eyes turned towards Ceana who once more began to shake nervously. She imagined that they could all see the outline of the key hung beneath her tunic and she thought that at any moment a cry would come and she would be set upon for her treasure. But none of the clansmen moved and she came to stand before the Laird, her eyes fixed firmly to the floor.

  “Well, who have we here?” the Laird asked, and Ceana took a deep breath, her mind racing to form her explanation, one she knew could be the difference between life and death.

  “She has hardly said a word, Laird. Nae since we found her. She wouldnae tell us her name,” Andrew interjected.

  “Probably because ye scared her half to death, Andrew. Did ye set upon her? Take her by surprise?” the Laird said, his voice rising in anger a little.

  “Nay, nay, Laird. We did nae harm her, but ‘tis nae safe for a lass upon the northern road, ye ken that, sir,” Andrew replied, but the Laird ignored him.

  “‘Tis all right, lass. Ye are safe here. What is yer name?” the Laird asked, and this time Ceana raised her eyes to meet his.

  He had a kindly expression upon his face, and appeared to radiate a genuine kindness. A man whom she felt she could trust, though she knew she must lie to in order to get what she wanted.

  “Ce … Ceana, sir, Ceana Morvell,” she replied.

  “See, Andrew. She will talk when addressed with kind words,” the Laird replied. “And where have ye come from, Ceana Morvell? Ye look tired and hungry. Bring some food for the lass and let her sit rather than stand before me. She is nae enemy, a fellow Scot,” he called to the servants, who bustled around to do his bidding.

  Ceana was brought a chair and sat opposite the Laird, and a bowl of porridge was placed before her which she began to eat hungrily.

  “Thank ye, sir,” she said, but he shook his head and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

  “‘Tis only a bowl of porridge, lass. But tell me, what is yer story?” he replied, as the other clansmen returned to their conversations, and a babble of voices filled the Great Hall.

  “I … I am lookin’ for work. My … I am the last of my family and I have come north to seek my fortune. I was makin’ for Edinburgh when I came across yer men. I assure ye, I mean nay harm. Quite the opposite, in fact, for I am a healer. I know the ways of plants and herbs and I have much knowledge of the ancient ways,” she replied.

  Ceana had determined to keep her lineage a secret and pretend her family to be dead. That way, there could be no suspicion as to her origins. Though in hindsight she realized it had been foolish to tell the Laird her real name. He looked at her with interest, as though the revelation that she was a healer could be of use to him.

  “A healer? Ye know the properties of the plants hereabouts? Why were ye crossin’ the border? Ye did nae live south surely?” he asked, but she nodded.

  “Aye, my family lived in … lived south, in England. The forests are richer, more abundant there but sadly my parents succumbed to fever and I am the last to be left. I couldnae remain there, nae when the place held such memories for me and so I determined to leave, to return to Scotland and look for work. I will gladly be on my way if ye return my horse and provisions,” she replied, her eyes meeting those of the Laird who nodded, looking at her with curiosity.

  “‘Tis a brave lass who crosses the border alone. My men might be a little rough around the edges but they would never have harmed ye. But there are many who would, of that I can assure ye. Dae ye ken nothin’ of such men? The English soldiers who patrol their borders, they wouldnae treat a lass like ye well. And there are others too, men of wild and wicked clans, who care nae who they rob and maim. Ye are lucky it was we who found ye,” Raghnall said, his eyes still fixed intently upon her.

  “I am grateful to ye for yer kindness, sir,” Ceana replied, “but I should like to get on my way.”

  But the Laird shook his head.

  “I cannae allow that, lass. Ye would be steppin’ into the lion’s den. We have had reports of English soldiers many miles into our land and of clansmen who have burned our cottages and laid waste to our crops. Nay, I cannae let ye go just yet, nae until I know ‘tis safe. Ye can remain here, ‘tis always useful to have a healer amongst one’s friends,” he replied.

  Ceana was worried. She had thought he would send her on her way, allow her to leave. He seemed to believe her explanation, which at least had some truth to it. Her parents were dead and she knew more than most as to the healing properties of plants and herbs. Her grandmother had taught her well and Ceana knew she could pass any questioning he might have. But the thought of remaining at Mhaol Chalium filled her with a sense of foreboding.

  “I … I daenae wish to impose upon yer hospitality, Laird. Ye have been kind to me and I wouldnae wish to trouble ye anymore. Allow me to depart. I will be quite safe, I assure ye,” she replied, but he shook his head once more and sighed.

  “Nay lass, ye shall remain here awhile. I may have work for ye and then we can discuss yer passage north. Besides, would ye nae wish for a bed this day? Ye look exhausted. Have ye nae slept for a day?” he asked, and Ceana reluctantly nodded.

  “I am tired, sir. That much is true. The … the worry of my parent’s death, the fact I couldnae save them despite my knowledge. That … that has weighed heavily upon me these past days. A bed would be a welcome thing and perhaps a further meal if yer hospitality can extend,” she replied.

  “It can, lass. Ye interest me. I have nae met a healer like ye before. Usually they are wizened old women, bent over with a stick, and whom folk accuse of witchcraft. Ye are nay witch, are ye?” he asked, but Ceana smiled.

  “Nay sir, only a woman who knows the way of plants. There is nothin’ more interestin’ about me,” Ceana replied, feeling the weight of the key hidden around her neck and wondering just how long she could fool this kindly Laird who seemed so intent upon helping her.

  What will happen to me now?

  She looked around at the Great Hall and the finery of the Laird’s home.

  Chapter 4

  Ceana was given a bed in chambers high up in the keep. Andrew led her there, ushering her inside and preparing to lock her in.

  “Am I a prisoner here in this castle?” she asked, but the soldier shook his head.

  “‘Tis clear the Laird has taken a likin’ to ye. I assumed he would throw ye into the dungeons and I can assure ye that they are far less comfortable than these chambers,” he replied, laughing.

  “But ye will still lock me in, set a guard upon the door, and prevent me from leavin’ through the gates,” Ceana replied, and Andrew nodded.

  “As far as I am concerned, ye cannae be trusted. But then ye have nay reason to trust us, either. Let us leave it at that. The Laird will summon ye when ye have rested. Be thankful, lass. Yer situation could be far worse,” he said and without waiting for her reply, he closed the door behind him, and turned the rusty key in the lock

  As his footsteps echoed down the corridor outside, Ceana ran to the door and tried to pull it open. But it was solid and well made, and there was no way in which she could force it open. She was exhausted, her lack of sleep and the dangers she had faced now overwhelming her. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she began to sob, sinking to the floor and holding her head in her hands.

  How she longed for her snug bed in the cottage and the sound of her grandmother’s voice soothing her to sleep. What had happened to her grandmother now? Was she safe and even now looking for Ceana? There would be no way of sending her a message or returning south to the forest, not if she were a prisoner here in all but name.

  She wondered why the Laird had treated her so well, why had he not thrown her into the dungeons and set a guard about her? He was an interesting man and despite her predicament at his hands, Ceana could not help but warm to him. He had seemed kind, considerate even, and certainly concerned for her welfare. But how long would he keep her there and would she eventually be allowed to leave, or even escape?

  Ceana’s mind was filled with thoughts and with a deep sigh, she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. It was comfortable and the room was warm, with a little fire kindled in the hearth. The sun was coming in from a slit window on the far side of the room, which was simply furnished with a chest and chair, a rug upon the floor, and a tapestry hanging on the wall. Despite the early hour, she knew she would soon be asleep and instead of fighting it, she allowed herself to drift, her thoughts and feelings mixed and muddled, as sleep overcame her.