Healing the Tormented Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 8

  I wish I could remember more.

  She had wracked her mind for any memory of her grandmother which might yield something of the key’s purpose.

  But it was to no avail and replacing it beneath her tunic she left the infirmary, hurrying towards her chambers. On the way, she passed the castle library and paused for a moment outside, a thought having crossed her mind.

  Perhaps the answer to the key lies in here. Caitlin told me that many of the books here came from one of the Abbeys to the west, a place of great learnin’, surely one must hold the knowledge I need.

  Her grandmother had been a wise woman, far more learned than any other person Ceana had ever met. She had read many books and could speak on most any topic, and though the lore of herbs and plants was passed down by word of mouth, some of it was written in books, as well.

  Her grandmother had possessed many volumes, but Ceana had never taken much interest in them, content instead for her grandmother to teach her by word of mouth and show her what she needed to learn, rather than read it.

  Cautiously she pushed open the library door, peering around, lest anyone else be there too. But the library was deserted, the evening sun casting its rays through the windows and onto the dusty volumes. She closed the door behind her and looked around, marveling at the collection of books which covered the shelves from floor to ceiling.

  I wonder who has read all of these?

  She made her way through the shelves.

  Above her, a stained-glass window, showing the crucifixion, was illuminated by the sun. The mournful face of the Savior looked down at her.

  Was this once the chapel?

  She pulled several of the books from the shelves.

  They were dull histories of the Scottish-English wars, far from the interesting tomes she had hoped to find. She traced her finger along the shelves, looking for anything which might relate to the key. There were books of history and theology, weighty philosophical tomes, and books of heraldry and poetry.

  Ah … maybe this.

  She pulled out a particularly dusty book, which sent a plume of dust into her face, causing her to cough and splutter.

  She laid it upon the table and began to look through it. The book was a volume listing notable treasures, richly illustrated and depicting all manner of intricately made objects. Many of the illustrations showed goblets, fine plate and jewelry, made for the nobles of Scotland and shores far beyond.

  What beautiful things.

  She continued flicking idly through the pages.

  But there was no image of a key, no illustration of anything resembling that which hung around her neck. She was about to look for a different book, perhaps one which would list more treasures such as these, when a noise behind startled her.

  She turned to find Lady Catriona watching her with interest and she rose from her place and curtsied, as the Laird’s mother came to stand before her.

  “‘Tis rare I find anyone else in my library,” Lady Catriona said, looking with interest at the open book upon the table.

  “I … I was … I was just lookin’ at …” Ceana replied, stumbling over her words.

  But Lady Catriona waved her hand dismissively and began pouring through the books along the shelves.

  “‘Tis quite all right, lass. Raghnall shows nay interest in the books and as ye see, they simply sit here gatherin’ dust upon them. Ye are welcome to look through them. Is there a question ye are seekin’ an answer to?” Lady Catriona asked.

  “Nay …” Ceana lied. “I was … I was just interested in some of the treasures which this castle holds. I have seen ye wearin’ such beautiful jewelry and the Laird possesses such fine things, I wished to ken a little more about them.”

  “‘Tis true this family has amassed much good fortune over the years. We are fortunate,” Lady Catriona replied, still skimming her fingers along the shelves, as though hunting for a particular volume.

  “Aye, very fortunate indeed,” Ceana replied, closing the book and replacing it on the shelf, “I … I should be goin’ now. I left the plants in the infirmary as ye asked, Lady Catriona.”

  “Good, I will see to them in the mornin’ for they need to be properly dried,” Lady Catriona replied.

  “Are ye … are ye lookin’ for some volume in particular?” Ceana asked, but Lady Catriona shook her head.

  “Nay, lass, I am lookin’ for nothin’ of interest to ye,” she replied and Ceana took that as her sign of dismissal.

  Out in the corridor, she wondered to herself just what Lady Catriona had been looking for. She seemed intent on finding something. Perhaps there were books containing the recipes for remedies and ointments, like those her grandmother possessed. Ceana placed her hand to her breast, the reassuring presence of the key hanging there as the constant reminder of her grandmother’s presence.

  Lady Catriona had seemed interested in Ceana’s purpose in the library and she wondered if she suspected anything of what she was concealing.

  They daenae ken anythin’ of the key, nor of yer grandmother.

  She hurried off towards her chambers.

  But there remained something of a doubt in Ceana’s mind and she could not help but feel a sense of worry as to her place at Mhaol Chaluim.

  I am safe for now, but for just how long?

  Chapter 9

  Raghnall was sitting by the fire in the Great Hall. It was late and despite being the height of summer, darkness had fallen. He was brooding, a state of mind he had often found himself in these days and months past, thinking over the events of the day.

  The English were bold, or perhaps those lads were just stupid. I wouldnae have been so merciful had Miss Morvell nae stayed my hand.

  The English threat was growing, but he had never imagined that English soldiers would have been so bold as to stray many miles over the border. It was one thing to find bandits and outlaws upon the road, but quite another to think that the enemy was making a concerted effort to scout out his territory.

  There will be nay peace in my lifetime, of that I am certain, he said to himself, shaking his head.

  He had a glass of whisky in his hand and he was swirling it around, gazing into the flames. Miss Morvell was not far from his thoughts and he imagined holding her hands again, as he had done earlier in the day. It had seemed natural to do so and he wondered what might have happened had he kissed her.

  Daenae think such things, she is yer guest, nae some common lass from the village. Put her out of yer mind.

  That was far easier said than done.

  She fascinated him, and the more he tried to control his feelings towards her, the more he found himself enamored. He would gladly have kissed her, he admitted to himself, and the more he thought about it the more readily he desired it.

  The fire in the hearth crackled, as he threw several dry logs onto it and the dogs at his feet whined and rolled onto their backs.

  “What dae ye want?” he asked them, rubbing their bellies and smiling, “A walk at this time of night? Go back to yer rest, I shall be at mine soon.”

  As he was saying this, the door of the Great Hall opened with a creak and he turned to find his mother advancing towards him. She ignored the dogs, who ran to her and sniffed at her, settling herself down opposite him and fixing him with a disapproving look.

  “Yer guest was in the library earlier on, lookin’ through my books,” she said, her tone both questioning and accusatory.

  “She has every right to be there. She may explore the castle as she wishes, I have given her permission. She is nay a prisoner here, Mother,” Raghnall replied, looking at his mother with curiosity.

  I thought she trusted Ceana.

  He was despairing at his mother’s inability to accept other women in the household.

  It would be the same whoever she was, my mother cannae accept women about the place.

  “She was lookin’ at some curious volumes. Books on the treasures of Scotland and she made mention of the clan’s treasure and of the fine things we possess,” his mother continued.

  “Well … she comes from a poor family. She had never ken a castle like this or a clan with such power. She is used to a cottage in the forest, a humble dwellin’ so ‘tis far from strange that she should wish to find out more about our ways,” Raghnall replied.

  Though somewhere deep inside him, Raghnall had his doubts. He had been willing to believe Ceana’s story, but bitter experience had taught him to be wary of strangers, particularly ones with such fanciful stories to tell. He was not entirely convinced by her, not yet at least, but unlike his mother he was far more willing to be charitable towards a woman in distress.

  “So she says, Raghnall. But that may simply be a story, an idle tale. Ye daenae ken her one little bit,” his mother replied.

  “I ken her enough to ken that she is who she says she is,” he replied, shaking his head.

  “And ye are nae even just a little bit suspicious of her? A healer, who comes from the south and kens the ways of plants and herbs as well as I. ‘Tis unheard of, yet ye seem to happily allow yerself to fall under her spell, Raghnall. Be wary of such women, they seek every opportunity they can to …” his mother began, but Raghnall let out a cry of exasperation.

  “Really, Mother. I see what this is all about, ye think that Ceana is tryin’ to win my affections for her own advancement, or that she is some kind of English spy, sent here to gather information for our enemies,” Raghnall said. “Ye have always treated any woman who came close to me, like this. I want to help Ceana and will nae have her sent away on yer say so.”

  “I am nae suggestin’ that ye send her away, son. Only that ye watch her closely for any signs of trouble. Dae ye nae think ‘tis somethin’ of a coincidence that English soldiers appear in the dell, where none has ever been seen this far north, on the very day when she is sent to gather herbs and plants? And why does she wish to ken about our treasure? What is it that she is interested in?” his mother said and Raghnall sighed.

  She is right, of course, I cannae be entirely devoid of suspicion over Ceana. But to think she would behave treacherously is absurd. She has been nothin’ but kind and loyal since her arrival. Still, I am nae convinced that she has told me the whole truth.

  “I daenae ken, Mother. But she has given me nay reason to suspect her. Ye just daenae like another woman in the house, that is yer problem,” Raghnall replied and his mother laughed.

  “There are plenty of other women in the castle, Raghnall, and I am quite content to be one alongside them. I simply caution ye over Ceana. She is a stranger amongst us and strangers must earn their trust, nae be handed it upon a silver platter,” his mother said.

  “And surely she had earned our trust by her work and good deeds? She is loyal and obedient, a hard worker, and she has proved herself time and again, has she nae?” Raghnall said, but his mother simply shook her head and rose from her place.

  “‘Tis late now, Raghnall. We shall see if Ceana proves her worth, but for now I will keep my suspicion of her and I counsel ye to dae the same,” his mother said, and bidding him goodnight she left the Great Hall.

  Raghnall sat a while longer by the fire, pondering over his mother’s words. He did not like to think them true and Ceana had given him no cause for suspicion, but it was her origins that were mysterious. She had seemed flustered when she made mention of her grandmother earlier that day, as though it were a slip of the tongue.

  But why should it be? Of course she would have a grandmother and ‘tis clear that any mention of her family is painful for her, given she has lost them all to fever and disease. She had nay one except ye.

  He gazed into the embers of the fire, the dogs fast asleep at his feet. His thoughts were upon Ceana and he wondered if he should ask her to tell him more about herself. Perhaps she needed more reason to trust him, for trust works both ways. He did not like to think his mother was right about her, but she had always displayed a jealous streak, whatever she might say to the contrary.

  The castle was silent as he made his way to bed, pausing outside Ceana’s chambers and listening for any sound from within. He heard nothing, and carried on down the dark passageway towards the tower in which he slept. His chambers were well furnished, as befits a man of his rank and privilege, and a fire was burning in the hearth as he entered, followed by the dogs who promptly slumped themselves down before it.

  “Ye ken how to be comfortable, daenae ye?” he said to them, pulling off his tunic and climbing into bed.

  It was not long before he was asleep, but the mystery surrounding Ceana seemed to be growing in his mind. His mother had planted the seed of doubt within him, quite intentionally he knew, but he could not help but wonder what she was hiding and why his soldiers had found her on the road heading north.

  Was she runnin’ away from somethin’ or someone?

  As sleep overcame him, his dreams were filled with thoughts of Ceana and the mystery she had brought to Mhaol Chaluim.

  Raghnall awoke the next morning to the sounds of the dogs shuffling around the room and whining. They did this most mornings but Raghnall had been attached to the animals since he was a boy and always insisted upon them sharing his chambers at night.

  He rolled over, stretching himself out and yawning. Today would be a busy day for there was much which needed to be accomplished. His walk with Ceana and encounter with the English soldiers had lost him a day at his duties and he would need to work hard if was to accomplish all the tasks necessary for the running of his affairs.

  He climbed out of bed, as the dogs pawed at him, leaping up eagerly and barking.

  “Calm yerselves, lads, be still,” he said, fondling their heads and patting their backs.

  He splashed water onto his face and pulled on his tunic, looking out onto the courtyard below, which was already a hive of activity. He could see Andrew issuing orders to the soldiers and he was surprised to see his mother up and about so early, hurrying towards the gates as though on an errand of great importance.

  And where is she goin’ at such an early hour?

  He watched as the castle gates were opened and his mother took the track towards the village.

  And she tells me to be suspicious of Ceana.

  Smiling, he made his way down to the Great Hall.

  As he passed the doors to Ceana’s chambers he paused, wondering whether to knock. But sense overcame his heart and he chastised himself for being foolish.

  She does nae want to see ye at this early hour. And what excuse would ye give for wakin’ her? Forget it lad, ye have business to see to.

  The dogs scampered past him and towards the smell of cooking coming from Great Hall.

  There, he found Andrew and several of the clansmen deep in conversation.

  “Laird,” Andrew said, rising from his place, as did the others, as Raghnall took his place at the table.

  “What are ye gossipin’ about? A group of old women sittin’ around idly is what ye look like,” Raghnall said, as one of the servants placed a bowl of porridge before him.

  “Nay gossip, Laird. But news for ye, from the village. One of the peasants came to the gates this mornin’ to tell of strangers there last night. Men creepin’ through and nae wishin’ to be seen. He said that some of the cattle had been disturbed and several of the hens refused to lay this mornin’ too,” Andrew replied.

  “Tis nay unusual for strangers to pass through the village. The road north grows busier by the day,” Raghnall replied.

  “Aye, Laird, and that has caused the villagers concern. The man suggested that … that their Laird had little interest in their wellbein’ and was spendin’ too much time guardin’ the southern road, rather than lookin’ after his own,” Andrew replied.

  “And dae ye think that to be the case, Andrew Macready? Am I neglectful of my people?” Raghnall said, slamming his fist down onto the table.

  “Nay, Laird. That is nae what I think, ye ken, that but it would dae nay harm for ye to show yerself in the village. The man was worried, he seemed to think that this might be the start of cattle stealin’ or worse,” Andrew replied.

  “Worse? Like what?” Raghnall asked.

  “Well, in the past … folks have gone missin’ and there are reports of strange things goin’ on around about upon the moorlands,” Andrew replied and several of the clansmen nodded.

  “Old wives’ tales, Andrew. I have heard the stories, as have ye. But that was long ago. Our greatest threat is from the English now, nay from superstitious beliefs and moorland magic. But if we will make them happy then I shall ride out there this mornin’ and see that all is well,” Raghnall said, pushing aside his plate and rising from his place.