Healing the Tormented Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 4

  As Ceana left the Great Hall, Raghnall breathed a deep sigh, his hands pointed together at his fingertips, as he sat back in his chair at the high table. The arrival of Miss Morvell had been quite a revelation. It was rare for any woman to pass that way along the road, let alone one as beautiful as her.

  A healer. How strange that she should come up from the borders below. I wonder if my mother has heard tell of her?

  He pondered this for a moment. She was mysterious, but there was more to it that than that. From the moment he had laid eyes upon her, Raghnall had felt a strange attraction. It had come upon him suddenly, a desire to know her better and to grow closer to her.

  She was certainly attractive, despite the precariousness of her situation. Her long, red hair fell down her shoulders and her eyes seemed almost to pierce his soul, though there was a fear in them, understandable given what she had been through. Her face was pretty, her skin soft, and her slim figure aroused in him a sense that he would like to know her better.

  She must remain here, he resolved, his thoughts drifting to the future. He imagined her at his side, here in the castle. He wanted to know her, to understand her, and discover more about her. She was beautiful, but this was more than physical attraction.

  Raghnall could have any woman he wanted, and offers of marriage had been made from the fathers of prospective wives across the Scottish Lowlands. But Miss Morvell was different. She seemed to carry a burden, a weight of knowledge, and a mysterious past. There was more to her than she had told him, that much was certain. But Raghnall did not believe her to be deceptive. There was something about her, some sorrow or weight upon her shoulders.

  But what to do next?

  Around him the meal continued.

  A few moments later, Andrew returned, swinging a bunch of keys in his hand. He sat down opposite Raghnall and poured himself a tankard of ale, toasting the Laird’s health.

  “She is locked away now, Laird. Safe and sound for the night,” Andrew said.

  “Dae ye think she needs to be locked away? She is nay prisoner. We have a dungeon for such people, rather than a comfortable chamber at the top of the tower. Why does she need to be under lock and key?” Raghnall asked.

  “Ye are the Laird, the question is yers to answer, I suppose, with all due respect. But we daenae ken where she is come from, nor what her purpose here is. She is a mystery. ‘Tis nae often that we meet a lass all alone on the road, one who claims such knowledge as she. Ye would dae well to keep yer own counsel around her, Laird. I daenae trust her. Nae yet,” Andrew replied, taking a long draught of ale and sitting back in his chair.

  “And that is yer counsel, as Captain of my guard?” Raghnall asked, smiling at Andrew, who nodded.

  “Aye, Laird. ‘Tis my counsel, but ye may keep yer own if ye so wish,” he replied.

  Raghnall made no reply, his thoughts turning once more to Miss Morvell and the mystery of who she really was.

  It was not usual for young girls like her to possess knowledge of healing. She had made a grand claim.

  But was it really true?

  For a while, the two men sat in silence and Raghnall could not rid himself of the thought of Miss Morvell. She enchanted him, with a face which made him nervous, for he had heard tales of such women, beautiful and fair, who could lead a man to his death in the fog or on the rocks of the sea. It was foolish to believe such things, he knew that, but there were many, like Andrew, who would surely suggest that Miss Morvell was not to be trusted.

  “I shall ponder it a little more alone,” Raghnall finally said, nodding to Andrew, who stood up and saluted him.

  “Mind that yer feelin’ towards the lass does nae get the better of ye, Laird,” Andrew said, and Raghnall shook his head.

  “And when I wish for advice on my feelin’ towards Miss Morvell from the Captain of my guard I shall ask for it,” Raghnall replied, and taking his leave he marched from the Great Hall.

  I shall feel what I like.

  He began to climb the stairs to his chamber, his mind on Miss Morvell as his own thoughts betrayed him

  It was a knocking at the door which awoke her, gentle and persistent. Ceana opened her eyes, thinking she was dreaming, as the knocking became more insistent. She stretched and rolled over, realizing she was awake, and sat up on the side of the bed, wondering what time of day it was. The knocking grew louder and suddenly a voice called out from the corridor, the voice of a woman.

  “Are ye awake, mistress, may I come in?” it said.

  Ceana was puzzled for a moment. Surely if she were a prisoner here whoever it was could come and go as they pleased. They did not need her permission to do so. She stood up, her legs feeling weak and achy, before calling out her reply.

  “Aye, ye can come in, whoever ye are. I am awake,” she said, as the key turned noisily in the lock and the door creaked open.

  There, balancing a small tray in one hand, was a girl, a little younger than Ceana, possessed of long dark auburn hair and a smiling face. She looked Ceana up and down, nodding to her and placing the tray, which contained bread and a bowl of soup, down on top of the chest.

  “‘Tis late afternoon, mistress. The Laird sent me up with some food for ye. The clansmen have eaten their midday meal. He says he will speak with ye when ye have eaten and washed. I am to bring ye hot water in a moment,” she replied, curtseying to Ceana who looked at her in surprise.

  “So, I am to be waited upon hand and foot, am I? I thought I was a prisoner here. It seems I was mistaken,” Ceana said, taking up the tray and sitting down on the bed.

  “Daenae listen to Andrew. He is my uncle and a man full of his own oh-so-important position,” she replied, smiling. “My name is Caitlin, Caitlin Macready. I have lived here all my life in the castle. The Laird is a good man, he will nae see ye harmed. But if the rumors are true, then ye have had a lucky escape.”

  “Rumors? What rumors might they be?” Ceana said, as she began to eat.

  “That ye were ridin’ along the north road alone, makin’ for Edinburgh. ‘Tis a dangerous road, even the men wouldnae ride along it alone. Ye must be made of stern stuff to brave it,” Caitlin said.

  “I ken nothin’ of its reputation. This country is alien to me,” Ceana replied, hungrily tearing at the bread.

  “Ye ken nothin’ of the border wars between the clans? The raids? The cottage burnin’? Ye have led a sheltered life if that be the case,” Caitlin replied, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “I am a healer, nae concerned with the ways of the world. I heal, nae cause harm. The wars of men hold nay interest for me,” Ceana replied.

  “Ye are nae a witch, then? That is what some are sayin’ down below,” Caitlin continued, and Ceana looked up and sighed.

  “I am nay witch. The lore of herbs and plants is an ancient thing. ‘Tis nae witchcraft, only the wisdom of those who have gone before,” she said.

  “I daenae think ye are a witch. My uncle says ye were surprised to see him and his men. A witch would surely have realized they were there and nay been foolish enough to walk into them,” Caitlin replied.

  “So, I am not a witch, but I am a fool instead,” Ceana replied and Caitlin turned red with embarrassment.

  “Nay, I did nae mean that. I am sorry,” she said, but Ceana smiled.

  “‘Tis all right. I would like to wash now, if I may. Did ye say ye would bring some hot water?” she said, and Caitlin nodded.

  “Right away. Have ye had enough to eat? I can bring ye more if ye desire it,” she asked, but Caitlin shook her head.

  “Nay, ‘tis all right. Some warm water is all I should like and then I shall speak with the Laird,” she replied.

  Caitlin went off to bring the water and Ceana crossed to the slit window, peering down to the courtyard below. The gates were closed but the courtyard was busy with soldiers. They were practicing their swordsmanship in the sun, the blades catching the light and flashing, as metal clashed against metal.

  Raghnall MacCramhain certainly possessed a formidable army and Ceana wondered just how powerful he was. She had never heard his name before, but then she knew little of the world outside the forest nor of the politics which governed it. But she did know that Caitlin was right, she had been lucky on the road north. Had she met with English soldiers or men of a more violent and unruly clan, then her circumstances now could be very different.

  When Caitlin returned with the hot water, Ceana washed and made ready to speak with Raghnall. Caitlin told her that the Laird had been out hunting that morning, returning an hour or so ago with the prize of a magnificent stag, caught far up on the moorlands above.

  “He will make a head upon the wall,” she said, as Ceana straightened her tunic and felt for the key beneath.

  “I am sure he will,” she replied, turning, ready to follow Caitlin down to the Great Hall, for it was she who had the key to the room.

  “Shall I wash yer tunic for ye? I can have one of the mistress’ sent up, I am sure she will nae mind,” Caitlin said. “Here, take it off now and I will go and get one. Ye daenae want to see the Laird in yer dirty clothes now, dae ye?” Caitlin said, but Ceana stepped back, shaking her head.

  “Nay … I … perhaps later. I will take it off later and change. I am used to my own clothes, they are … special to me,” Ceana replied.

  Had she removed her tunic then Caitlin would surely have spotted the key around her neck and despite the kindness of the servant Ceana had no intention of trusting her. But Caitlin simply nodded and smiled, shrugging her shoulders and taking up the empty water jug and washbowl.

  “As ye wish. Come now, we daenae want to keep the Laird waitin’,” she replied.

  Ceana followed her out of the door and into the corridor, which was dimly lit by the candles, no natural light penetrating the inner sanctums of the keep. She was curious as to the mention of a mistress at the castle, and as they descended towards the Great Hall, she questioned Caitlin further as to the Laird and his family.

  “The Laird is married, ye say? Your mistress?” Ceana asked, but Caitlin laughed.

  “Nay, he is nae married. Though there is many a woman who would like to be so. The mistress is his mother, Lady Catriona, a formidable woman and make nay mistake. Ye will meet her soon, I am sure,” Caitlin replied.

  “And what of the Laird’s father? How long has the Laird held his position?” Ceana asked.

  “These five years past. His father was killed in a raid to the north. The Wilsons, our sworn enemies. They had taken to burning cottages and the old Laird rode out with my uncle and the others. He took an arrow to the eye and another three to the heart. But they say that even then he went on fightin’ until his last breath. There was nay braver man in all our clan than he,” Caitlin replied.

  They had reached the Great Hall now, and they paused at the doors, as a babble of voices came from inside.

  “What is it he intends to dae with me?” Ceana asked, turning to Caitlin, who pondered for a moment.

  “I daenae ken, ‘tis nae my place to say. But he is a good man, I promise ye of that,” Caitlin replied and pushing open the doors she led Ceana inside.

  The Great Hall was bright, the sun streaming through the high windows above and casting rays of light upon the tables and in which the dust danced. Ceana blinked after the darkness of the corridors, shielding her eyes and furrowing her brow. On the high table there sat Raghnall, surrounded by his clansmen. When he saw her enter, he called her over, as the men dispersed, and she came to stand before him.

  “I trust ye are well rested and that Caitlin has taken good care of ye? Would ye like somethin’ to eat or drink?” he asked, pointing to a chair opposite.

  “Nay … nay thank ye, I have eaten my fill and Caitlin has been very kind,” she replied, and he smiled at her.

  “Good, I am glad the hospitality of this house is to yer likin’ for ‘tis nae often that we have guests, and rarer still that we have guests as beautiful as ye,” he said, and Ceana blushed.

  “I … ye flatter me, Laird and I thank ye for yer hospitality,” she replied.

  “‘Tis my pleasure, Miss Morvell, and ye may remain here as my guest for as long as ye please,” he said.

  “And if I choose to leave today?” she asked.

  “Then ye shall be denied that. I cannae allow ye to risk yer life upon the northern road. ‘Tis too dangerous for a lass to travel that way alone. There are scoundrels and brigands roamin’ on the high moors, English soldiers and wicked clansmen who would see ye come to harm. I cannae allow that,” he replied.

  “But surely ‘tis my choice to come and go as I please. Or am I yer prisoner here?” she asked.

  “Ye are nay prisoner, but I offer ye the hospitality of my home, I feed and water ye, give ye a bed for the night. Surely, the least ye can dae is to remain here a while with me?” he replied, and Ceana nodded.

  She had no reason not to trust him. He had been as good as his word and the truth was that she had no real plan as to what the future would hold. Ceana was at his mercy, but she could also have been at the mercy of men far worse than Raghnall MacCramhain. He had been kind to her, asked for nothing except her company in return, and made no threats against her. If the key was to remain safe then where safer than the castle of a Laird, behind thick walls and protected by an army of soldiers? Here, she could bide her time a while and perhaps word of her grandmother might come.

  She smiled at him, looking around the Great Hall at the fine tapestries and portraits. The clansmen were well fed and there was much talk and laughter. Despite herself, she could not help but feel comfortable here. After all she had been through, it was good to finally find a friendly face and words of warmth and kindness.

  “Very well, I shall remain here a while, if ye will allow it,” she replied.

  “Of course, I shall allow it. I insist upon it,” he said, smiling at her, just as the doors to the Great Hall burst open and a woman’s voice came shrilly from behind.

  “Raghnall, what is this I hear of ye bringin’ a lass from the road here, a healer or so I am told? Where is she? I want to meet her.”

  Chapter 5

  Ceana turned with interest towards the door to the Great Hall. The woman’s voice was commanding, and her entry caused a hush to descend upon the clansmen gathered around. She was a tall woman who cut an imposing figure. Her long black hair flowed down her back and she was dressed in green with a shawl about her shoulders. On her fingers were several rings, which sparkled in the sunlight pouring through the windows, and about her neck was a necklace of gold and silver.

  She fixed her eyes on Ceana with interest, looking her up and down, a puzzled look crossing her face. One she quickly changed to a stern gaze, as she repeated her desire once more to meet the newcomer.

  “Mother, I am pleased to present to ye Miss Ceana Morvell. She comes from south of the border and is makin’ her way northwards. I have told her she must stay here awhile, for the threats upon the road are many and I wouldnae see her come to any harm,” the Laird said, rising from his place, as his mother swept past Ceana and turned to face her.

  “And a healer, or so my son says? My name is Catriona MacCramhain, mistress of this castle, a face ye would dae well to remember, lass,” Lady Catriona said, her eyes fixed upon Ceana’s, which made her feel suddenly very small and nervous once again.

  There was something about Lady Catriona. Her gaze seemed almost to pierce the soul and Ceana wondered if somehow, she knew about the key beneath her tunic. She could feel its weight upon her, as though the outline were burning through her tunic and exposing itself to them all. But instead, Lady Catriona tossed her hair to the side and turned to her son, shaking her head.

  “Miss Morvell is to stay with us, Mother. I am sure her services will be useful at times. She is our guest and we must treat her so,” the Laird said.

  His mother laughed.

  “A healer? And why dae we need a healer when we already have one?” she said, and turned against to Ceana. “I am a healer of some note, lass, and I doubt that one as wet behind the ears as ye could have knowledge greater than I. Tell me, what is the correct use of the centaury plant? Where would I gather it?”

  Ceana paused for a moment, she knew of centaury. Its little pink flowers made a pretty bouquet and she had often picked them for her grandmother. She took a deep breath and fixing Lady Catriona with what she hoped was her most learned expression she recounted what her grandmother had told her of the plant.