Highland Yuletide Magic (The Band of Cousins Book 9) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Dear Reader

  Other Novels By Keira Montclair

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Perhaps death would be a blessing.

  In her heart, she knew that statement to be false, but the hunger had become a fearsome thing. Her own suffering was nothing compared to the pain of watching her dearest brother so close to starvation. Would they ever be safe again?

  Shona MacKinnon leaned back against the cold stone of the cave, casting a quick glance at the others and praying she’d find more food on the morrow.

  She ran her fingers through her brother Juel’s hair, mussing it on purpose because it had always looked that way in the past, back when he was a careless lad who liked nothing better than to run and play outside.

  Before.

  Before the men from the Channel of Dubh had come for them, before they’d lost their smiles for good.

  The Dubh men had killed their parents in front of them, set their hut on fire, and then dragged them away, slapping Juel any time he cried. The laddie was only five summers.

  She’d fought hard, but there was little she could do against ten men.

  But then the Lord had found a way to save them. Several of their kidnappers had left to attend to another group of stolen lasses, and one had returned in a right state. A group called the Band had attacked and killed his friends, releasing all of the other prisoners who’d been held in an abbey. The man had other tales about flying falcons attacking his friends and Highlanders dressed all in black, but Shona focused on the fact that the other captives had gotten away. The news had given her hope and courage.

  So did the agitation of their kidnappers. The remaining men were soon deep in their cups. Drunk as they were, they were careless, and one left his dagger on the floor near Shona. Later that eve, they stumbled off to meet with others in their group, leaving Shona and her brother tied up in the dilapidated hut with three other prisoners. Shona had seen her opportunity. She’d used the knife to free herself and the others.

  Shona was the eldest, Juel was five summers, the other family consisted of two lads, James and Benneit, aged seven and eight, and a lass of five and ten, Jamesina, also named after their sire. The Dubh men had killed their mother, although their sire had been out hunting at the time of the attack. The children hoped he was still alive and would come searching for them.

  Before leaving the hut, Shona and Jamesina had grabbed as many mantles and plaids as they could carry, knowing that it would be cold no matter where they ran. They hadn’t dared to stop for over an hour to put on their mantles.

  They’d attempted to find an empty cottage, but their surroundings had been totally unfamiliar to them. Not a single friendly face. At one point, Benneit had thought he recognized their surroundings, but one copse of trees was much like another, and they ended up going in circles. They hadn’t gotten any closer to home, as far as they knew, nor had they found anyone to help them. Shona had decided they would do best to find a large cave in the wilderness, one to block the wind and the cold rains. It had taken her two days to find this cave.

  When they’d located the cave, they’d only planned on staying for a day, but one day had turned into another. And another. Foraging for food was an exhausting venture, and Juel had become sick, forcing them to stay longer. Eventually, their collective weaknesses had kept them in the cave while Shona ventured out for food, and on the increasingly slender hope of finding someone to help them.

  That had been over a moon ago, or so she’d guessed, the days blending together. They’d carefully divided up the woolen hose and coverings for their hands, putting furs underneath them to keep the cold of the stone from soaking in all their heat. If they hadn’t, they’d never have survived the cold nights.

  Here they’d slept, all huddled together, every night since then.

  Shona spent her days searching for food. At first it had been easy. She’d found an apple tree and Juel had climbed up, dropping all the apples down to them, but they hadn’t lasted long. She’d found some hazelnuts, but they hadn’t lasted long either.

  It took quite a bit of food to feed five people.

  Shona felt responsible for the others. She was the eldest, at eight and ten, and the only one with enough strength left to search for food.

  In her heart, she feared they’d all be dead within a sennight.

  ***

  Moray Allen sat in the solar of Muir Castle with Braden Grant, chieftain of this sept of Clan Grant. Braden’s sire, Brodie Grant, brother of the renowned Alexander Grant, sat with them.

  Moray had no idea why he’d been summoned, so he waited for his chieftain to explain.

  “Moray,” Braden said, holding his gaze, “the time has come to stamp out the remnants of the Channel of Dubh. The Ramsays and Grants are joining forces to defeat them. My cousin Roddy will be here on the morrow, and we’ll travel to Edinburgh together. We could be gone for a fortnight or more. I plan to leave you in charge while I’m gone. Of course, my sire will be here to offer any advice, but I believe you are up to this task.”

  Moray sat up a little straighter, pleased to be given this assignment. There was no greater gesture of trust—Braden’s wife, Cairstine, and her son, Steenie, would be staying behind. “Aye, Chief. I will handle everything in your absence. We’ll continue our daily patrols and be on the alert for any reivers or men involved with the Channel.”

  Brodie Grant sat back, his arms crossed in front, his expression one of pride. Moray knew how pleased Brodie was to see his son take up arms against the Channel, the thieves and kidnappers who stole young lads and lassies and sold them across the waters. It would be a boon, indeed, if Braden and the others crushed the Channel for good.

  “My sire and Corc will keep an eye on Steenie,” Braden continued. “We know the lad tends to wander, but you needn’t worry about him. You are to focus on keeping the castle free of marauders.”

  “Understood, Chief. I’ll only take five guards out on patrol. The rest will stay behind to protect the castle.”

  Their clan was small, which made its protection more difficult. It was a challenge Moray had eagerly accepted when Braden had asked him if he wished to join the clan as his second-in-command. Together, they formed a group of twelve Grant guards.

  “Chief, I am honored to be considered for such an important assignment. You can trust me to keep Muir Castle and everyone here safe.”

  Brodie Grant nodded. “Aye, all will be well. Go and put an end to this. Godspeed to you and all the Band.”

  Braden stood from behind his desk and clasped Moray’s shoulder. “I have complete confidence in you, Moray. You’ll do a fine job. We aim to be back before Yule. Cairstine is planning a celebration.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it,” Moray said. “’Twas always one of our family’s favorite holidays due to the fine decorating Mistress Maddie did in Grant Castle and the fine feasts she shared with the clan. The food was magnificent.” Braden’s mother had joined in the decorating. The dancing and the minstrels were a recent addition, something they’d all enjoyed. He didn’t expect to see as large of a celebration here, of course, but a feast for all would be most welcome.

  “Keep that in mind when you’re out on patrol,” B
raden chided. “Bring down a fine deer and we’d all be grateful.”

  “Mayhap a boar or two,” Moray said with a smile.

  Braden and his sire began to converse on another matter, and since Moray had nothing to add, he said, “Chief, if you don’t need me anymore, I’d like to take our men out on patrol. Mayhap take down that boar for you.”

  “Do whatever you must, Moray. Remember, if you have any further questions, I’ll be here until the morrow.”

  Moray took his leave, waving to those in the hall as he passed through it on his way out to the lists. He trekked over the cobblestone courtyard of the beautiful Muir Castle and past the stables, stopping for a moment to speak with the stablemaster. “Saddle up five horses for a patrol, Corc. I’ll be back with my chosen men in five minutes.”

  A wee face peeked out of a stall, eyes wide with excitement. “May I come along?” Steenie asked. “Paddy will protect me.”

  Cairstine’s son, a wee lad of five summers, had charmed them all, and many of the inhabitants of Muir Castle were also partial to his pet—Paddy the Pony. Some said the wee horse was a magical being, for he’d led Steenie straight to Grant land after the lad had become lost in the dark. When Moray had asked Corc whether he believed it, the older man had swiftly replied, “Do not question why such things happen, lad. Scotland is the land of the braw and fierce, but ‘tis also the land of faeries and things no Scot can explain. The lad was protected by our land and our God, ’tis all you need to know.”

  Ever since then, Moray had been a little uneasy around the wee horse.

  “May I, Moray?” Steenie repeated his question, gazing up at him.

  He hated to disappoint the lad, but he couldn’t give him what he wanted. “Nay, ’tis too dangerous, lad. We’re riding out to ensure there are no reivers or Dubh men lurking around.”

  At the mention of the Channel of Dubh, Steenie’s eyes widened and he said, “Never mind. Paddy needs me here.” The horse gave a whinny as if to agree with him.

  “I’ll see to him, lad,” Corc said, motioning for Moray to take his leave. “Be on your way. You know he’ll come up with another idea if you linger.”

  Moray left with a nod. He found his way to the lists, chose his men, and returned. They were outside of the gates in less than ten minutes.

  “Which way, Chief?” asked one warrior.

  Apparently, word had already gotten around that he would be in charge on the morrow. Moray didn’t correct him, although he wished to—the position was only temporary, and he didn’t feel he deserved the title that went with it.

  “We’ll head south. We have not been in that area of late.”

  They kept some distance between them as they rode, but stayed close enough to summon one another with a whistle. They hadn’t gone far when Moray’s eyes caught the glistening of something golden in the distance. Scanning the area dense with trees, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, yet he didn’t doubt his gut. Something was out there. He scanned one more time, and then he found her.

  A beautiful lass with hair the color of a beam of sunlight stood five horse-lengths away from him, staring at him.

  Before he could call out to her, she bolted.

  Unfortunately, he also heard the whistle of one of his guards, followed by the clash of blades. He had to assist his men, but that didn’t stop him from glancing over his shoulder as he approached the sound of chaos.

  She was gone.

  Chapter Two

  Shona ran as fast as she could. The man who’d seen her wore a red plaid, and she wracked her starving, tired brain to recall which clan it represented.

  Could he be a friend rather than a foe?

  She hadn’t lingered to find out. The sound of clashing swords had driven her away—and so had the handsome man’s obvious interest in her. She’d raced across the glade, leaping across fallen branches and stones, until she finally made it back to the cave. Out of breath, she stood to the side listening, not wishing to go inside and upset the others by telling them she’d been seen or that there were men with swords nearby.

  She reassured herself that they were safe here. A person approaching the cavern would think it empty—twenty steps into the dark interior, there was an abrupt bend to the left that led to the hidden section where the group of youngsters had taken shelter, concealed from a quickly scanning gaze. A hole in the ceiling at the back of the cave was just big enough to give them light without bringing in the elements of the outdoors. This kept them a distance from the blowing wind and eased the aching cold.

  It would be a long time until spring, but they had to make do.

  Her thoughts flitted back to that man and his plaid. Red. Hadn’t her parents said the warriors from Clan Grant wore red? Everyone knew the Grants could be trusted, but they had to be quite far from Grant land. Her eyes had likely played a trick on her.

  Once she was certain she hadn’t been followed, she took the skin of water out of the pocket sewn into her skirts and went over to the burn to fill it with fresh water. It was so cold that they could hardly stand to bathe in it, although at least it hadn’t iced over.

  Failure pressed in on her. They were all starving, and this day had proven to be a total loss.

  She sat on a log and sipped the water. What could she find them to eat?

  Perhaps if she moved a little farther from the cave, she’d locate a castle. There’d be plenty of food to plunder from the kitchens. Most castles had stores of nuts, cheese, dried fruit and fresh baked bread, more than enough to share. The only problem was that Muir Castle was likely the closest, and her sire had warned them that a group of cruel men had overtaken that stronghold, killing most of the Muirs. The last thing they needed was to attract the attention of more bad men, but how was she to know which castle belonged to the Muirs? She’d never been there before.

  Either way, they had to be close to some castle or homestead. The handsome man must have come from somewhere. If he’d survived the skirmish, he might be able to help them. Not all men were evil. The Band of Cousins had made it possible for them to escape their kidnappers.

  That would be her next journey, but not until the morrow.

  ***

  Moray trudged inside the gate walls, leading his horse to the stables. Corc was inside readying all the horses and saddlebags for the upcoming trip.

  “Corc, have you a moment to answer a question?”

  “Aye, Chief,” Corc said with a grin.

  “You need not address me so, but I think you know that.”

  “Why not? You’ll be acting chieftain on the morrow,” Corc said, leading Moray’s horse into an empty stall.

  “Because it won’t be for long,” Moray said, watching as the stablemaster gave his horse a small supply of oats. “I’m sure the chieftain and the others will be returning for Yule. They’d not want to miss out on that. Once the forces of the Grants and Ramsays are united, they’ll put a quick end to the Channel.”

  “I hope you’re right. What was the question you had, Moray?” Corc closed the gate to the stall and turned around to give Moray his full attention.

  “Do you know of a lass with yellow hair in this area? I saw her standing by herself in the forest.”

  “A lass alone in our forest? ’Tis mighty odd, I’d say,” he said, scratching the whiskers on his chin. “Had she a plaid draped across her mount?”

  “Nay. She was on foot wearing a dark mantle, and I didn’t get a chance to speak with her. We caught a few reivers on our land, so I had to tend to that first. I couldn’t leave my men to battle them alone. Once we sent them running in the opposite direction, I searched all over for her, but she was nowhere to be seen.”

  Corc scowled as he thought, rubbing his chin for a few moments before he shook his head. “Nay, not that I recall. But those bastards in the Channel had a sorry effect on all of us in the Highlands. People living in huts or groups of huts scattered for their own safety, though I know not where they could have gone. ’Tis a verra sad state, especially so soon
before Yule.”

  Steenie came barreling out of one of the stalls, running so fast that he couldn’t stop himself before he ran right into Moray. “Did I hear you say Yule? Is Yule coming? What do we do for Yule? We never did anything before. Someone told me once that Yule is for giving gifts. Or is it for getting gifts? Am I going to get some presents? Am I?”

  “Slow down, Steenie,” Corc said, his hands flat and facing the lad. “Sorry, Moray, but he is excitable about anything new that comes our way. Nay, lad. We haven’t celebrated Yule at Muir Castle for many years, but your grandmama and grandpapa used to before you were born. I think you may be celebrating this year.”

  “If Papa returns in time,” Steenie said with a pout.

  “He will,” Corc said with a reassuring nod, “and if he’s late, they’ll still have a celebration. Mayhap you could think of some gifts to make for your mama and your grandmama.” Corc leaned on the side of the stall, waiting for the lad to absorb all he was saying.

  “And Papa and Grandpapa.”

  “Aye, them, too. We’ll think about it. Mayhap you can whittle something or dry some flowers for your mama. You have time.”

  “I know,” Steenie said, his face lighting up. “I’ll ask Paddy what to make.” He took off toward his pony’s stall at the end of the building.

  Moray scratched his neck in discomfort. “Does he really think Paddy will answer him?”

  “Those two have a special relationship even I cannot understand,” Corc said with a shrug. “He is the lad’s only friend. It’s a pity none of the guards who’ve joined us from Clan Grant have bairns. Steenie needs some friends. Friends who really talk. He loves the laddies in Loki’s clan, but they’re not here often.”

  Loki was Braden’s elder brother, and although his family’s visits were greatly enjoyed, they didn’t come often enough from the wee laddie’s perspective.

  “True, but I think he’ll be busy with his gifts for a while now.”

  “Lord above, I hope so. When he gets something in his head, he won’t let go.”

  Moray left, waving to Corc. “If you think of anything else about the golden-haired lass, please advise me.”