Page 4 of Bride Takes a Charmer (Highland Vows & Vengeance #3)

Castle Moy, Eilean Nan Clach

Inverness, Highlands Scotland

S haw Mackintosh stretched and crawled from his bed.

He ambled to the window casement and threw open the shutters.

Silence abounded in the predawn morning over the foggy, heavily wooded land in the distance.

Cold winter air streamed into his solar and he took a deep breath.

Shaw always enjoyed the time of morning when the day held such promise and solitude .

His solar was the only place that gave him peace. His gaze roved to the door of his private domain and he was dejected that soon, he’d need to leave the tranquil place. Outside his door, his clansmen awaited instruction and guidance.

Shaw listened to the quiet. Except for the wind that whistled at the three-story structure of his home, Castle Moy, and the lapping of the water against the rocks that protected the small island, there was no noise.

It was early; dawn had yet to make its appearance over the mountains in the distance.

None of his clansmen or women had risen yet.

Before long, many would be about the land they called home.

Soon the sun would rise and glisten over the waters that surrounded the stony island and a new day would bring what it would.

He scratched his chest and then took hold of the shutters when a knock came at his door.

Shaw turned away from the bonny view, latched the window casement enclosure, and crossed the chamber in a quick stride.

He didn’t open the door wide because he hadn’t yet garbed himself.

The door slightly ajar afforded him to see who dared to awaken him—not that they had—but they didn’t know that.

“Laird, Clovis sent for ye. Milady Maven has left the grounds again. Ye must come at once,” Enid, a young maid within the keep, whispered.

“Aye, I will see to her. Go on to the kitchens, Enid, and tell Mistress Edra that I want the morning fare on the table by the time I return. Give her my thanks as well.” Shaw closed the door and hurried to dress.

He pulled on a heavy tunic and covered his waist with his tartan.

After, he secured his belt and positioned his sword in the scabbard he’d strapped to his chest. There was no time to waste because he had to get to his grandmother.

Given the chill of the morning, she had to be freezing.

Shaw rushed from the room and when he reached the door to the keep, he stopped and grabbed his grandmother’s cloak, the one lined with thick fur. He folded it over his forearm and bounded toward the gate. When he reached it, Clovis, the watchman, opened it.

“Fair morn to ye, Laird.” Clovis pressed a hand over his mouth, covering a quick yawn.

He must’ve been at the watch through the night for he appeared disheveled and unkempt.

His light-colored cropped hair stuck up and his beard curled in small knots on his face.

He cleared his throat and explained, “She was later than usual this morn and only left a short time ago.”

Shaw nodded to his soldier, muttered his thanks, and continued onward.

He crossed the wooden bridge and with quick steps, he reached the isolated location of the Mackintosh burial grounds.

There amid the cold stones of the dead, he spotted his grandmother.

Her body was curled up on the ground before the mound where her husband, his grandda, was buried.

He sighed and approached. With a gentle hand, he pressed his grandmother’s shoulder.

“Mamo, ye need to awaken,” Shaw called to her and then three more times before she opened her eyes.

“What are we doing here?” Confusion crossed her face along with a myriad of expressions.

Shaw drew a resigned breath. His aged grandmother had no awareness that she slept walked each night.

He’d given orders to the gate watch to allow his grandmother to pass through the gates and not to awaken her.

The few times someone had tried to roust her when she’d been in such a state, she’d become violent and hurt herself more than she had those she’d attacked.

“Ye were sleepwalking again.”

Her long gray hair tussled in the wind but she made no move to tame it. She gazed at him with cornflower blue eyes that had long ago faded with her age. Maven was still bonny though, even with the many wrinkles on her face. She accepted the cloak that he held out to her.

“Best get ye warm.” Shaw helped to pull the cloak around her. “One of these days, Mamo, I will not be able to awaken ye.”

She raised her saddened eyes to him. “’Tis what I hope and pray for each night. Why has God left me here when He has taken all those I love…”

Shaw reached out to help her rise, took her hand, and gently squeezed it with affection. “Not all that ye love were taken.”

“True, ye are still here, my bonny lad.”

Shaw didn’t like the forlorn sound of her words or the sorrow that welled in her eyes. “And Corliss needs ye, too. We both need ye, Mamo.”

His grandmother scoffed a ha under her breath.

“That lass… Your sister needs no one, save for herself. Definitely not me. Aye, for she’s a wily cat to land on her feet.

Still, I should have died long ago. God surely punishes me by keeping me here.

Mayhap I am cursed, aye, because I just want to be with my dear Fergus.

” Maven squeezed his hand and raised her face to the sky.

“Och, it seems that day is not this day.”

“I’m gladdened, Mamo, that it is not. Come, let us get ye back to the keep. ’Tis freezing this day and we should get ye near a warm fire.” Shaw was pained by the despondent mood of his grandmother of late.

Over three scores in age, she had lived beyond most of those she cared about, longer than anyone he knew.

He did his best to watch out for her but his grandmother was headstrong and never listened to his commands or heeded his cautions—especially his warning about going to the graves in the middle of the night.

“I fear that I shall never be with my Fergus.”

He set his arm around her shoulder and guided her back toward the keep. “God has his reasons for keeping ye here, Mamo.”

“Aye, aye, He does. Perhaps my sins prevent our Good Lord from taking me? Do ye deem that I am cursed?”

He chuckled lightly. “Who would ever want to curse ye? Nay, whatever the reasons, ye will remain here until God calls ye home. Besides, what sins could ye have committed?”

She lowered her gaze and didn’t answer his absurd questions.

Shaw kept hold of her as they meandered over the small hills of the forest and the wooden bridge that led to their home.

When they reached the gates, she walked ahead of him and Shaw grew grim at the thought that one morning she would be with her husband.

He suspected he would find her gone to the hereafter, her cold lifeless body a mere remembrance of the woman she’d once been. How he dreaded that day.

“Laird, missives came for ye.” Clovis held out the sealed parchments.

He took the missives and scowled at them because he hadn’t received so many messages in quite a while. “My thanks, Clovis. Has the sentry gone out this morn?”

“Not as yet, Laird.”

“Close the gates after they leave.” Shaw ambled forward and shoved the parchments inside his tunic. He’d read them later while he ate his morning fare.

On his approach to the fief, he saw glints of the morning sun shining on the waters. He spotted several of his clansmen just starting their day. They headed off toward where they practiced arms.

A shadow passed by the tree near him and he steeled himself, ready to face his adversary.

He chuckled to himself, knowing who approached.

His comrade jumped out from behind and grabbed him.

Shaw took hold of the assailant and flung him over his shoulder.

The man’s body thumped on the ground. Shaw used his knee against Henny’s chest to hold him on the ground and the man groaned.

“Do ye give?”

Henny grunted and ceased trying to gain his release. His bulky body stilled and then he chortled. The soldier’s dark eyes, as black as night, peered at him with mirth. “Bollocks, ye saw me coming, did ye not? Aye, aye, I give.”

Shaw shoved his soldier’s black-haired covered head against the ground, released him, and bellowed, “I admit that I saw ye coming. Go on, ye best get on the field before Trey reprimands ye for being late.”

His soldier trotted off and passed his commander-in-arms. Trey shouted at Henny but waved him onward and approached.

“Did he attack ye again?” Trey asked and shifted his hands through his blond locks as he side-eyed him with his green eyes and had a smirk on his face.

Shaw nodded. “Aye, as he does every morn. I am beginning to think Henny has something against me. Och, I know what he is up to and cannot fault him for it.”

Trey cackled. “Och, ye do? What might that be, Laird? Ye mind telling me because I have yet to figure out why Henny attacks ye and our soldiers.”

“He means to keep me and the soldiers on our toes. I appreciate his effort.” Shaw laughed to himself because Henny was a devoted soldier.

On a night when they’d both imbibed too much potent ale, his soldier confessed why he’d battered his clansmen.

Henny maintained that he did so to keep him and his soldiers from losing the skill of awareness when there was the possibility of imminent threats from foes.

“What are we going to do about him? Several soldiers complain that he sneak attacks them. He needs to be stopped before he hurts someone.” Trey walked alongside him, but he kept his gaze ahead. “Or someone wounds him.”