Page 1 of Bride Takes a Laird (Highland Vows & Vengeance #2)

Lochaber

Highlands, Scotland

Mid-March 1260

T he body was found on the ground in the shadow of the great mountain just before the sun rose over its peak. High atop the mound, wisps of mist stretched downward like fingers reaching over the pinnacle. Magnus stood beside his brother’s body and gazed forlornly at the sight of the ghastly remains. His brother had been missing for over a month. Searches had ensued when no one had recalled seeing Ned in over a fortnight.

Magnus, as the laird of the Cameron Clan, had been busy helping with the sowing of the harvest and handling other important clan matters. He hadn’t noticed Ned was absent until he visited his cottage to gain an accounting of their coins and stores. Ned, their clan’s steward, kept their clan’s accounts and records of all the land’s holdings.

Magnus’s brethren stood silent as the winds from the high crags whipped at their tartans. It was a bonny place to die, where the valley sprouted with the first buds of the season. The sound of the waterfalls cascading over the rocky expanse lent to its serenity. Beyond them, pinewoods stood proudly towering high above, watching over his brother’s body and protecting him from the sun and elements. Dying at such a place would allow one’s soul to enter heaven even if they were besmirched by minor sins. At least that was the conviction of those within his clan.

He stood rigidly, peering at what remained of his brother. If only he had noticed his brother had gone missing sooner. The trek from their land was laborious and it had taken them most of the morning to reach the isolated location. Beside him, Clarence knelt and surveyed Ned’s body. A healer of renowned ability, Clarence could tell how a person died and whether there was foulness involved. With no others to rival his skills, Clarence was unsurpassed in his vocation. The man was somewhat eccentric in his abilities. Nevertheless, he was an important member of their clan.

“What say ye, Clarence? Was Ned murdered or did he perish from the elements? I must have your answer.” Magnus waited impatiently for the healer to respond, but the cantankerous man scoffed.

Clarence’s bushy eyebrows rose as if the answer eluded him. “I cannot tell ye that, Laird, by viewing him in this condition. He is nearly all bones now and there is very wee insect activity so the death was not recent. There is little to show if he was cut for his blood dried up. Aye, what with the way the wind blows here, ’tis likely he has lain here for nearly a month.”

“It does not appear that he was disturbed by animals and the body is intact.” Magnus found that odd since the area was known to be visited by wolves and other roaming animals.

“’Tis strange indeed but perhaps none caught the scent of his corpse. He was shielded by the mountain too. I shall inspect his garments later when I get him back and try to assess if he received any wounds.” Clarence rose and stood beside him but he continued to stare at the ground. “’Tis something odd about your brother’s death for he was not alone when he died.”

Magnus frowned and tried to discern what Clarence was looking at. “I see naught. How can ye tell that?”

Clarence motioned to the ground. “Ye see the hoof prints? There were more than one horse in the area. Aye, he was left to die. Might have been dead already afore he was placed.” He shrugged. “I shall inspect his body at my cottage and might have an answer for ye in a day or two. Och, I suspect treachery, Laird.”

Magnus grunted. Was his brother murdered? Why would anyone want to kill Ned? “I want an answer at the soonest. Until we know the truth, we cannot retaliate.”

Clarence mumbled, “Aye, aye, there will be vengeance if Ned was indeed murdered.”

“Aye, vengeance,” Magnus stated with vigor. “I want to know if there is an enemy about.” He wasn’t aware of Ned’s involvement in anything untoward. Ned rarely left their clan’s holding and he knew of no one his brother might have visited in the area. Though Ned was fond of drink and overimbibing, Magnus trusted his brother. Yet it was only at their father’s insistence that he had given Ned the position as their steward. At the time, he had been uncertain if Ned could handle such a tiresome and important duty.

Clarence motioned to the soldiers beyond him. “Easy now. Take care when ye lift him onto the cloth and cart. Have him taken to my cottage.” He turned back to him. “My condolences, Laird, on the loss of your brother. I will work hard to get ye an answer at the soonest.” With that, the old healer turned on his foot and marched to the lane that took them around the high bluff of the mountain.

Magnus stood there for a time, saddened by the loss, and perplexed by what had happened to his brother. He couldn’t take much time to mourn Ned because there were too many duties awaiting him and, as laird, those came first. With that thought, he mounted his horse and followed the trail of soldiers on the path. On the trek back home, he considered how he would tell his parents and other siblings about Ned’s death. They would take the news hard, especially his mother, who adored Ned.

Crossing the wooden bridge over the waters of Loch Eil that led to his home, Eilean nan Craobh , he stopped by the gates and dismounted. Their fortification was located on the island of the trees, home to all Clan Cameron, where a small tower sat within a large walled enclosure. Enemies were kept at bay by a deep trench of water surrounding the stone curtain. Numerous cottages speckled the hills between the trees within the walls on the small island but their clan spread far beyond the fief and island.

When necessary, his clan retreated inside the walls for its protection. His family had held the lands as long as anyone could remember, since the inception of their clan. Now that Magnus was laird, he hoped to enrich the fortification and make his home even more impenetrable. Their land’s location put them in a perilous position, being centered betwixt many northern clans that would sooner war with them than make an alliance. Wars arose over the simplest matters from a stolen sheep to an overtaking of land. No matter was too trivial for any clan to rise up against their rivals.

There was one clan in particular that instigated Magnus’s ire—the Chattans. That clan was a thorn in his arse because they squabbled over land that had long been held in the hands of Camerons. The ongoing disagreement caused minor scuffles so far, but the Chattan’s audacity was becoming more irritating by the day and their strife would escalate. Even if he wished for peace, Magnus was certain it would take a great deal to accept any offer of a treaty from that knavish clan.

Magnus paced before the gate and the noise from his clansmen and women, animals that scurried on the lane, the horses hitched to carts and reins held by his soldiers, all muted. He paid no attention to those around him, the weight of his news sat heavy upon his chest. He suspected that once he crossed the threshold, life would be forever changed. Their clan would be affected by the loss of his brother. Until they knew what happened to Ned, suspicions and rumors would abound. He detested the thought of the turmoil that would erupt but he’d deal with his clan’s disorder.

“Laird, there ye be,” Craig, one of his trusted guardsmen, called. “Ye received a missive from the king. The messenger arrived early this morn.” The gate watchman held out a sealed parchment.

“My thanks.” Absently, he took the parchment from his guard. Magnus continued to peer beyond the tall, blond-haired man whose beard was trimmed short. His soldier’s dark eyes scrutinized him.

Craig cleared his throat. “Laird, is there anything I can do…?”

“Keep the gates closed. Until we know what happened to Ned, we will be guarded and diligent. And I want to know who comes and who goes.” Magnus regarded the grim face of his soldier as he shoved the missive inside his tunic. He would read the message later and didn’t consider it important, at least, not as significant as the burden he now faced. By now, the news had spread like wildfire through his clan and probably beyond his borders.

“Aye, Laird. Do ye believe the Chattans were behind Ned’s death?”

“I know not but if they were, they’ll regret it.” Magnus couldn’t reason why the Chattans would harm one of their clansmen. Their rift hadn’t escalated to war yet, but would eventually. There was no cause for the Chattans to want to murder his brother.

Craig waited for him to pass and signaled to the guardsmen to close the gate. The creak of the iron and grunts from his soldiers sounded and both gave Magnus the solace of protection. He couldn’t give thought to their strife with the Chattans until he knew how his brother had died and so he put aside his conversation with Craig.

Magnus walked apprehensively, almost leisurely, toward the keep. With his horse’s reins in hand, he continued on but dragged his feet. He was in no rush to get inside to impart the atrocious news.

Winston, his attendant, sprinted forth with his dog, Sigge, following. Sigge had been given to him as a gift from his younger brother Jake, who often brought home strays and animals akin. Winston and Sigge had become inseparable and both were loyal to him. Now, the tall lad shook his shoulder-length brown locks from his face and awaited his direction. The lad had a pleasing demeanor in his brown-eyed gaze and a dedication in his mannerisms and heart.

Magnus handed the reins of his horse to him. Winston was apt at his duty and always prepared. His pet was faithful but when Winston whistled, Sigge trotted off to follow the young soldier. Sigge’s disloyalty always showed whenever Winston was around.

At the steps, Magnus hesitated for a moment in an attempt to calm himself, but he drew a resigned breath and marched inside. With a quick stride, he hurried to the great hall, wanting to impart his news mainly to get it over with. Magnus was uneasy about telling them the news of his brother’s death because he knew they’d hold him accountable.

His father stood by the hearth and his mother sat in a wooden chair near him.

His mother glanced at him expectantly. She pressed the long length of her brown hair behind her shoulders and then folded her hands in front of her.

“Have ye found him? Please, tell me that he is safe.” His mother gained her feet and stood before him.

Magnus was dejected that with his next words, he would break his mother’s heart. “Da…Ma… We found him and I am sorry to tell ye—”

He hadn’t finished telling them the news when his mother shrieked and sobbed into her hands. “Oh, God, nay. This cannot be. We cannot have lost Ned. How could ye let this happen? Ye are the laird and should have protected your brother. This is your fault. I hold the blame on ye and ye will not gain my forgiveness.” She reached out and slapped him hard across his face.

Magnus tensed but said not a word. He didn’t even bother to soothe the sting of his mother’s ire. His cheek enflamed and reminded him of his role as the laird. He was accountable for the safety and well-being of every living soul within his clan. His mother had every right to show her anger—anger that also wound its way through him for his ineptness.

His father set his arms around his mother’s shoulders to offer comfort. “He is with God, Wife, take comfort in that.”

Magnus gave them a few moments to mourn. Soon enough, he would need to answer their questions—questions for which he presently had no answers.

His father called to a servant and had his mother taken to their bedchamber. Magnus waited for her to leave and when she cleared the doorway, he slunk to the table, poured himself a cup of good strong ale, and downed it.

“Your ma does not know what she says. Mourning speaks for her.”

Magnus grunted. “Aye? But she is right because I am responsible for all the clan. It is my duty as the laird to ensure their protection. ’Tis my fault that Ned has died. I should have been aware of what he was…” He discontinued when his father shook his head and set his hand on his shoulder.

“Son, now ye let mourning speak for ye. Ye are not responsible for anyone’s actions but your own. Do not hold guilt in your heart. Ned was a man, accountable for his own life. What happened to him?” his father asked sadly.

“We do not know yet. Clarence is looking Ned over for injuries. It is not known whether he was killed or died from other causes. The healer suspects foulness though.”

His father patted his shoulder. “Forgive your ma for her anger. Ye know how she doted on Ned. She will grieve for some time.”

“As will we all.” Magnus poured his father a cup of ale and handed it to him, then poured more for himself. “Until we know for certain, we should keep our gate closed. I ordered the watchmen to do so.”

“Aye, that is wise. I cannot help but wonder why Ned left the holding. He never does…did. It seems strange that he would do so and then be found dead. Why would anyone want to kill him?” His father mo tioned him forward and they sat at the large trestle table in the center of the hall. With the cup held in his hand, his father lowered his head and shook it dejectedly.

A banked fire sent warmth to him as Magnus took the seat closest to the hearth. For a moment, he let the heat calm him. He was tired from the journey as well as from the sad affairs. Blearily, Magnus stared at the banners situated high on the walls in the chamber. “I thought the same thing, Da. It is odd, his behavior.” He sipped his ale and couldn’t form more words to offer his sympathy or accountability.

Magnus hadn’t thought his brother had the wherewithal to handle the important position when his father forced him to accept his brother as the steward but he and his father rowed about it. Ned had proved him wrong and they’d settled into a routine until recently. His brother had begun to shirk his responsibilities by not showing up for meetings, and making excuses for the delay of accounting of their coin and stores. His ineptness led Magnus to believe that he had made a mistake by allowing his brother access to their wealth.

His father groaned and rubbed his hands over his dark-haired, bearded face. Of his four sons, Magnus most resembled him in likeness with the same thick, dark brown hair color, and likewise with the greenish-brown shade of his eyes. His brothers more appeared like their mother, bearing lighter brown hair and blue eyes.

He and his father also shared similar traits of honor, dedication, and assertiveness.

Magnus supposed that was why he was chosen to become the laird and not one of his brothers. Not that they didn’t possess honor, but Magnus exuded confidence which his brothers did not. No one was more dedicated to the clan than he was. He’d aspired to be the laird and worked hard to be named as such by their clan’s council since he was knee-high. From the time he was five in age, he’d been raised and instructed by the elders and spent every waking moment being counseled by them .

“Ye are quiet, son. That tells me much is on your mind.”

“Aye, with spring soon to warm us, there is much to prepare. Now, I must deal with this treachery, if Ned was murdered. And there’s the Chattans to consider. Our rift with them escalates. I will have to confront them eventually because it has become troublesome keeping them off our land.” Magnus set his cup down and felt the parchment jab him inside his tunic. He pulled it out and set it next to his cup.

“What is that?”

“A missive from the king.” Magnus stared at the message and hoped its contents were unimportant. Whatever the king wanted had to wait. He was in no mood to deal with Alexander at present.

“What does it say?” His father reached for the missive, but Magnus clutched it before he could take it.

He might as well read it now and cracked the wax seal to open the parchment. His eyes scanned the briefly written lines. “Damnation, I do not need this right now. The king demands my attendance in Edinburgh in all possible haste.”

“Why?” His father scowled and snatched the missive from him, scratching his head as he read the words.

“It does not say but only that I am to leave posthaste.” Magnus retook the missive from his father and crumbled it in his hand. He then tossed it into the fire of the hearth with satisfaction because he wasn’t about to leave his holding. At least, not now with so many issues plaguing him, and not until he had answers from Clarence.

“Ye cannot dismiss the king, son. Give yourself a day or two and then leave.” His father grunted. “Alexander will not be put off and the last thing we need is to incite the king’s ire.”

He wasn’t pleased with having to go to Edinburgh, but what could he do? Until he left to meet with the king, he would see to his other duties. Magnus intended to get his answers from Clarence on the morrow and when he returned he’d set out to find Ned’s assailant, if there was one to be found.

The Chattans wouldn’t cede and battles would force them to stand down. With the sowing almost completed for the early crops, the soldiers needed to return to arms training. While he was away, he would have his brother, Wyren, their commander-in-arms, ensure their soldiers trained hard and were readied for war. As he thought of his brother, Wyren and his wife entered the hall. His sister-in-law carried their wee bairn in her arms.

“I just heard,” Wyren said. He guided his wife, Marny, a dark-haired, brown-eyed woman, who recently birthed a bairn, to the table. Marny was from a neighboring clan but had settled in when she’d married his brother. She was a sweet-tempered woman and well-suited to his brother’s confident nature. That Wyren always remained calm when under pressure made him the perfect leader and commander-in-arms. Magnus somewhat envied that trait in his brother. He wasn’t as patient or understanding.

His brother’s bairn, though, had a cranky disposition and often cried, so unlike his docile parents. Hale fretted and wiggled in his mother’s arms. Marny tried to soothe their son, but the wee one was not so easily comforted. “Hale needs to be changed. I shall see ye at home,” she said to Wyren, kissed his cheek, and left hastily.

Wyren kept his gaze on the entrance as his wife left before he returned his attention to him. His brother yawned widely, stretched, and took a seat next to their father. “I vow my bairn is intent to make me deaf and prevents me from ever seeking my bed again. Aye for I am akin to the living dead. He will not cease crying and he’s kept me up over half the night. Do we know what happened yet…to Ned?”

Magnus shook his head. He remained silent and took a deep breath to settle himself. When his brother stared hard at him, he spoke, “This is all I know.” He hastily told Wyren how they found Ned and what Clarence had told him. “Now, I have no time to await Clarence’s findings because I must leave for Edinburgh. Ye will ensure our soldiers are ready. After we bury Ned, I want all the steward’s records brought to me. Have them put in my solar.”

Wyren bowed his head. “Aye, Magnus, as ye wish but I say we do not await Clarence. Let us go now and find out what happened to Ned. We will light a fire under Clarence’s arse and get our answers now.”

Magnus rose and followed his brother from the hall. With him, Wyren and their father walked on either side of him. The healer’s cottage sat near the center of their holding, close to the tower fief. None spoke until they entered the healer’s domain.

In the small room where Clarence attended the injured and infirm, his brother lay on a high table. Ned was practically unrecognizable. Magnus’s stomach twinged but he withstood the urge to gag at the odor and view. He was used to witnessing death and the horrors of war, but those experiences compared little to the sight of his brother’s lifeless body.

Nearly twenty candles lit the chamber and sent a glow to the far reaches of the room. The healer stood by the table and held the tunic Ned had worn.

Startled by their abrupt arrival, the healer gasped when he turned to them. “Oh, Laird, I did not expect ye so soon. Ye frightened me.”

“I am to leave the holding without delay and cannot await your findings. What say ye, Clarence? Was he murdered?” Magnus approached and stood beside him.

“Ye have not given me much time, Laird, but I say he was murdered. Aye, ye see here,” Clarence said and held up the stained tunic. “There are slits in it where he was stabbed. Looks to be the size of small blades. Likely daggers. There is blood staining his tartan too. At first, I thought perhaps the recent rains soiled his garments, but at closer inspection, ’tis blood. Your brother was indeed murdered. As ye know, I thought him dragged to where he was found. Someone killed and dispatched him there so he would not be found. ’Twas an isolated spot.”

“Aye, and afar from our lands. There was no reason Ned would have gone there unless he planned to meet someone,” Wyren said.

Magnus couldn’t listen to conjecture. When he found proof of his brother’s murderer, he’d act. “Prepare him for burial. I want him laid to rest this night because I leave for Edinburgh on the morrow. As much as I would like to find his murderer, I cannot delay my journey to meet with the king.”

Wyren set his hand on his shoulder. “His murderer cannot hide from us. We shall find whoever did this to Ned.”

Magnus’s gaze shifted to his father and the healer. “Wyren and I will dig the grave. It is our duty to our brother.” He and Wyren stepped outside and avoided some of his clansmen who stood on the lane who watched the healer’s cottage as if expecting news but Magnus knew the findings would be given later. On the way to where they buried their dead, he snatched a shovel from beside the stable. His brother also grabbed a shovel and together they hastened toward the back of the fief.

There, by the high back wall, was situated a burial site where they buried the closest members of the Cameron clan. He and his brother remained silent whilst they dug and didn’t cease until the hole was deep enough. The rich scent of soil and the freshness of the water floated around them. Being on an island, they couldn’t dig down too deeply because of the risk of reaching the water below. Once they had the hole ready, they jumped onto the surrounding land.

Standing at the edge of the grave by the time they finished the chore, Magnus watched solemnly as his family gathered. At early eve, just before the sun settled beyond the mountainous peaks in the distance, all within his clan assembled. His closest clansmen: Hayden, Osmond, Craig, and Winston carried his brother’s body toward the grave. Magnus wouldn’t allow emotion to control him and he stood with a steeled regard .

Ned was wrapped in their clan’s tartan, the red and green hues blending as Magnus’s eyes threatened to tear. His brother was placed on a wooden board which they used to lower him into the hole. After, Hayden and Osmond took the shovels and made quick work of filling the hole. There was no clergyman to speak Godly words or to send Ned onward to Heaven. Whatever prayers were spoken had to be done privately.

His family stood together solemnly and his mother wept with deep sobs and gave him glances of disdain. His father stood beside her, holding her. His brothers Wyren and Jake watched as the last bit of dirt was added to the mound. Magnus placed a big rock atop the grave. Then one by one, the rest of the clan added their rocks atop to ensure the protection of his brother’s body.

Craig stepped forward with a large goblet in his hand. His guardsmen held jugs of ale. They filled his goblet to the rim. When the men within the clan noticed Craig, they moved forward and stood around him.

Magnus gave the signal with a nod of his head. “My brother Ned was murdered. Someone killed him, for what reason we know not. I pledge to all within our clan that I will not cease the search for Ned’s murderer until I can enact vengeance for his death.” His words came with the vigor of his promise.

The sound of his clansmen’s grunts and cheers of acceptance reached him. Craig handed Magnus the goblet. He took a swig then handed it back to him. Craig drank and passed the goblet on until each man within their clan partook of the cup. Their tradition instilled his promise and his clansmen’s acceptance.

Vengeance would be his and none of his clan would allow him to forget the vow he’d made on this dark day. Magnus especially because he took the vow to his heart as laird.

Vengeance for his brother’s death would be his and his alone.