“Clive said his father hated you,” Edan put in.
“Nay, it is not true,” Upton protested. “When we were young warriors, we were as close as brothers. But... something happened to end our kinship.”
“Aye. You left the circle of friendship rather than bend your knee to another.” Clive’s eyes narrowed. “’Twas what my father also wanted to do, but because he was determined to win the love of Aldora over all other men, he acceded to her wishes and remained under the protection of his clan. But as years went by, my father saw the way you prospered, while he was never anything more than a loyal man-at-arms to his cousin, Modric. And all because he listened to his woman.” Clive’s voice rose. “A woman who never loved him. A woman who loved you, Upton Lamont.”
At his words, Merritt and Edan turned to stare in shock and surprise at their father.
Upton’s tone softened. “’Tis true that Aldora loved me, and I loved her when we were very young. But she chose Thurman over me. And I swear to you, I never saw her again. She was never disloyal to your father.”
“You think not. But I know that she never forgot you. And as news of your conquests grew, so did her regret that she had not risked all for love.” Clive’s eyes darkened. “All my life my father told me the tale, and made me promise on his grave to avenge his loss and have what was rightfully his.”
“Rightfully his? He may have been bitter, but your father was not a thief and a murderer. If you do this terrible deed, you will be hunted until the day you die.”
“Nay,” Clive said with a bitter laugh. “You see, there will be no one left to tell what happened here. After I force you to watch the murder of your son and daughter, I will end your miserable life, as well, Upton Lamont.”
“You do not think your cousin Shaw Campbell will spend a lifetime searching for the one who destroyed his happiness?” Merritt asked sharply.
“Shaw Campbell.” Clive’s voice was filled with scorn. “The perfect son. The perfect brother. The perfect cousin. And to you, the perfect warrior and lover, is he not?” His lips twisted with anger. “But he will love you no more. My men were lying in wait for Shaw Campbell and his brothers.”
“Your men?” Merritt felt a shudder pass through her.
Then her voice broke. Not Shaw. Not her beloved. “God in heaven, what are you saying?”
“I am saying that right now they lie dead in the forest. All of them, including the pretty Sabina.”
At Merritt’s startled gasp, Edan began to cry softly. Upton became deathly quiet.
The silence was suddenly broken by the familiar sound of Shaw’s voice. “Your well-laid plans went awry, cousin. It is your men who lie dead in the forest. But before he gave his life, the leader, Lysander, revealed the truth. I know now that you are the traitorous Black Campbell.”
Everyone turned with relief toward the tall figure who stood in the doorway, his sword at the ready.
Shaw’s eyes blazed with fury. “Now I have the answers to all those puzzling questions. On the night Sutton was attacked, it was not the Avengers those swordsmen sought.” He turned the full force of his wrath upon his cousin. “It was you who told the villains where Sutton would be.”
Though he said not a word, Clive’s eyes glittered with fury. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his knife.
“How you must hate us, that you would do such an evil deed,” Shaw said.
“Aye,” Clive thundered. “I hate all of you. I am sick to death of your talk of honor and courage and duty to your country. What of your family? What of me? When would I ever have a chance to be laird? The only one who ever cared about me, the only one who ever loved me, was my father. It was he who insisted that I take what was rightfully mine.”
“It was not love that Thurman gave you,” Upton said sadly. “It was hatred, jealousy. Aye, and a compelling need for vengeance.”
“But why?” Merritt asked, turning toward her father.
The pain etched in his face was almost more than she could bear.
“Because,” he said, turning his full gaze upon Clive, “Thurman carried a terrible secret in his heart. And that secret must have tormented him for all his life, until it drove him into madness. That is why he has taught Clive to hate. For you see, Thurman knew he was not Clive’s father.”
“What are you saying?” Merritt demanded. But even as the question slipped from her lips, the truth dawned.
Everyone turned to Upton Lamont, who was staring at Clive with tear-filled eyes.
“I had not thought I could suffer a worse pain than that of knowing that Aldora would not leave the safety of her people. For years the knowledge that she was another man’s woman drove me to cruel, barbarous acts for which I am now ashamed. But even that pain cannot be compared to this.” His voice nearly broke, but he forced himself to continue. “You see, when I left, I knew that Aldora carried my seed. You are not Thurman’s son, Clive. You are mine.”
At his words, Clive’s eyes went wide with a look of shock and disbelief. “Nay! Never! You are my enemy. And you must die,” he shouted as he bent and snatched a flaming stick from the fire. “Else my father’s vengeance will never be complete. Die, Upton Lamont. Die, Shaw Campbell, with the woman you love. Then I will be laird and all knees will bend to me.”
In one quick motion he tossed the burning stick among the books. Flames leapt and danced, quickly turning the shelves of fragile scrolls into a wall of fire.
While Upton and Shaw raced across the room to drag Edan away from the flames, Clive made a dash toward the door, in the hopes of sealing them in a fiery grave. But Merritt, seeing what he was about to do, made a desperate leap and landed against him, knocking him to the floor. As his knife slipped from his hand, both he and Merritt scrambled to retrieve it. When her fingers closed around the hilt, he swung his palm in a wide arc and slapped her so hard her head snapped to one side. At once the knife slipped from her nerveless fingers.
Merritt watched in horrified fascination as, in one quick motion, he snatched it and pressed the finely honed blade to her throat. “You will do just as nicely as the lad. For it will give me the greatest pleasure to forever deny your father your love and my cousin the pleasure of your charms.”
As he pressed the knife to her flesh, he suddenly stiffened. His evil smile was replaced by a look of stunned surprise. His blade clattered harmlessly to the floor. As he pitched forward, Merritt scrambled out of the way and he slumped in a heap. Embedded in his back was Shaw’s jewel-handled sword.
Flames erupted perilously close to the wooden beams. Shaw scooped Merritt up into his arms and, together with Upton and Edan, they fled the inferno. In the hallway, a line of servants was already hurrying forward, armed with containers of water and heavy hides to snuff out the blaze before it could spread through the rest of the fortress.
“Oh, my love,” Merritt cried as she clung to Shaw’s strength. “I feared I’d lost you.”
He would not speak of his own deep fear, which had driven him to race through the forest like a man possessed. Instead he touched his lips to hers and whispered, “The fates could never be that cruel. We have only just found each other, my love. And I make you this solemn promise. We will never be separated again.”
Epilogue
Father Anselm watched as Shaw paced back and forth in the knave of the chapel.
For at least the hundredth time, Shaw peered out at the assembled. His eldest brother, Dillon, and his wife, Leonora, were seated in the first pew, along with Robert the Bruce and his entourage, who had journeyed from Edinburgh. Behind them sat Sutton and his bride, Sabina, both of whom wore identical smiles of pure bliss.
In the third pew sat Shaw’s sister, Flame, who looked somehow different since her journey to Edinburgh. There was a polish, a sophistication, that had not been evident before. But beneath the latest gown and perfectly coifed hair, he could detect the impish gleam that still lurked in her eyes.
Across the aisle sat Upton Lamont, his hair and beard trimmed, his scarl
et tunic and cape as fine as any king’s. Beside him sat Edan, who seemed to have grown overnight from boy to man. He had even assisted the workmen in the restoration of the burned-out chamber, which was now a magnificent library.
“I know you are restless, but sit a moment, Shaw,” the old monk urged. “’Twill be our last chance to talk, for I must soon return to the monastery.”
“Aye.” Reluctantly Shaw sat in a chair and accepted the goblet of wine the old priest held out to him.
“Despite your nerves, you appear happy, lad.”
“I am, Father.”
“I had a chance to visit with your lass. She is, as I expected, quite special. Though I must admit, I was certain the lass didn’t exist who could tempt you.”
Shaw smiled then, and the old monk saw the love in his eyes. “Aye. Merritt is unlike anyone I have ever known.”
The priest decided to broach an important subject. “Before you wed, would you like me to hear your confession?”
Shaw’s smile deepened. “You’d like that, would you? To know how many commandments I’ve broken since I’ve been away?”
Father Anselm’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “You cannot blame an old man for trying to live through another. It’s been too many years since I dreamed a young man’s dream, or followed a young man’s course.”
Shaw set down his wine and adopted a more solemn pose. “Then hear me, Father, for I ask your blessing.”
Father Anselm clasped his hands in prayer and lowered his gaze.
“I have killed,” Shaw said softly, “not once, but several times. I’ve stolen sheep and horses.” He saw the monk’s eyes widen, though he said not a word. “And I’ve taken the virginity of my enemy’s daughter, though it was done for the noblest of reasons—love. Thus, I am a sinner. And, if truth be told, an unrepentant one, for, though I have remorse for those I’ve killed, I feel not a shred of regret for my other transgressions. As Merritt so often pointed out, it was not stealing to retrieve sheep and horses that had originally belonged to her family. As for the other, how could I regret loving Merritt Lamont?”
“Aye,” the old monk said with a sigh. “How indeed?” He paused a moment, then lifted his hand in a blessing. “For those sins for which you ask pardon, I grant it, in the name of our heavenly Father.”
They heard the sound of the heavy chapel doors being thrown wide and got to their feet.
“It is time, Shaw. Have you any doubts?”
Shaw chuckled. “None. Let us make haste, for I have waited a lifetime for this moment.”
As they made their way to the altar, the strains of a lute filled the air and a vision in a gown of white satin and lace began to walk slowly up the aisle.
The old priest turned to Shaw. “The Church has lost a man of vision and courage, who would have made a splendid leader.”
“Rome holds no appeal for me,” Shaw whispered, his gaze fixed on Merritt.
“Aye. I can see that.”
When she paused beside him, Shaw turned to greet his bride, and lifted the veil away from her face. As he took her hand in his she murmured, “Has the good priest persuaded you of your folly yet?”
“He has tried. But I have told him that it would be impossible to leave all this excitement for the quiet life of a monk. Besides, my lady, if I am to begin my life with you honestly, I must admit I love you far too much to leave you ever again. Let our love seal the pact between the Campbells and the Lamonts forever.”
Forever, his heart sang as the vows were pledged between them. He had come to this place to find his brother, and to exact justice of the notorious Highland Avengers. But what he had found had shaken him to the very core. His father’s enemy, who had become a trusted friend. A lad who had taken all of life’s cruel blows and risen above them. Two women who had done anything necessary for the survival of their family, and one of them this amazing woman, who had taken his quiet, careful life and turned it inside out. And with her fire, her zeal, her courage, had filled all the empty places in his heart.
* * * * *
Ruth Ryan Langan, Highland Heaven
(Series: Highlander # 6)
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