Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
C onnor had received many unwelcome messages in his time as laird, but the one currently clutched in his hand made his stomach twist into knots. He read it again, hoping the words might somehow rearrange themselves into something less troubling.
They did not.
He stood at the window of the study, watching raindrops trace erratic paths down the glass. The weather matched his mood. Gray, unsettled, threatening to break into something more volatile at any moment.
“My laird?” Ewan’s voice came from the doorway. “Is everything all right?”
He turned, the tightness in his jaw making his head pound. “No,” he said simply. “It’s Elspeth.”
Ewan’s expression shifted immediately from curiosity to concern. Despite the rift between Connor and his younger sister, everyone at Bronmuir knew how deeply he cared for her. “What’s happened?”
“She’s with child.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. An unwed woman with child was scandal enough, but the daughter of a clan chief in such a state was catastrophic.
“The MacKenzie lad?” Ewan asked, his voice carefully neutral.
He nodded, crumpling the parchment in his fist. “Aye. The same lad who, it seems, neglected to mention he already has a wife in Inverness.”
“And has also conveniently sworn allegiance to William of Orange,” Ewan added, his voice dropping as he spoke the name of the Dutch usurper.
The overthrow of King James II had thrown all of Scotland into chaos, with clans declaring for one side or the other, often based on which adversary had declared for the opposite. Connor’s jaw tightened. While the MacLeods were Catholic and had publicly declared for King James like most Highland clans, Connor privately believed William’s grip on the throne would hold. It was an unpopular opinion so he kept it to himself, knowing many would see it as betrayal to even think James wouldn’t return to power, which was why Clan MacLeod had not publicly declared for a side yet.
“As if her choice of husband wasn’t insult enough,” Connor said bitterly. “She tied herself to a family that would betray everything we stand for.”
“And what of Elspeth now?” Ewan asked. “Where has she gone?”
“She’s been banished.” Connor moved to the hearth, tossing the crumpled message into the flames. He watched it blacken and curl. A fitting end to such bitter news. “She’s living alone in a cottage. None of the clans will have her now.”
The thought of his sister, stubborn, headstrong Elspeth who had defied their father to follow her heart, living in isolation, carrying a child whose father had betrayed her, made Connor’s chest ache. Yet beneath the concern lay a more complicated emotion. A simmering anger that had never fully cooled.
“She made her choice,” he said, as much to himself as to Ewan. “She chose the MacKenzies over her own blood.”
“She chose love,” Ewan said quietly. “Or what she thought was love.”
Connor shot him a sharp look. “Are you defending her?”
“Nay, my laird. Simply...observing.”
He turned back to the fire, watching the last of the parchment dissolve into ash. Elspeth had always been willful, even as a child. He remembered her at six years old, climbing the tallest tree in the orchard after he’d told her it was too dangerous, her small face alight with determination. She’d made it halfway up before slipping, and Connor had caught her, his heart nearly stopping with fear. She’d looked up at him with those same MacLeod blue eyes and said, “I would have made it if you hadn’t distracted me.”
That was Elspeth, always convinced she knew best, always ready to charge headlong into danger if it meant proving a point.
“Who brought the news?” Connor asked, pushing the memory aside.
“A crofter from the western shores. Said a woman fitting Elspeth’s description paid him to deliver the message.”
“And what else does she want? Gold? Shelter?” The bitterness in his voice surprised even Connor. “Having exhausted the hospitality of her husband’s family, does she now remember she has a brother?”
Ewan shifted uncomfortably. “The message only contained news of her condition. No request for aid.”
That gave Connor pause. Elspeth had always been proud, another trait they shared, but to send word of her predicament without asking for help? That wasn’t like her.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Kate stood in the doorway, her expression hesitant.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” she said. “Moira sent me with these.” She held up a bundle of dried herbs. “For your headache?”
Connor hadn’t mentioned a headache to anyone, but the dull pounding behind his eyes had been building all morning. Moira’s uncanny ability to sense such things never ceased to amaze him.
“Thank you,” he said, gesturing her in.
Ewan bowed slightly to them both. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you require anything else.”
As the door closed behind him, she approached, setting the herbs on the desk. “Moira says to brew these in hot water and drink it all, even though it tastes terrible.”
Despite everything, the corner of his mouth lifted. “Moira’s remedies always taste terrible. I think she does it on purpose.”
“Probably. She strikes me as the type who believes medicine should be punishment as well as cure.” Her smile faded as she studied his face. “It’s more than a headache, isn’t it?”
He hesitated. His sister’s predicament was clan business, private. But something about her direct gaze, the genuine concern in her eyes, made him want to unburden himself.
“My sister, Elspeth,” he began, turning back to the window. “She’s with child. Unmarried.”
Kate was quiet for a moment, absorbing this. “The man is a MacKenzie?”
“Aye. And it seems he wasn’t free to marry her in the first place. He already has a wife.” Connor’s hands clenched into fists. “To make matters worse, the MacKenzie’s have declared for William of Orange.”
“The new king?” Kate asked, then seemed to catch herself. “I mean, the one who took over when James fled to France?”
Connor looked at her sharply. Sometimes Kate’s knowledge, or lack thereof, of current events puzzled him. “William is no king of mine, nor of any true Highlander. James is our rightful sovereign, regardless of what Parliament or the Lowlanders say.”
Kate nodded, accepting the correction. “And the MacKenzies support William?”
“Aye. They always align themselves with whoever holds power in Edinburgh.” The contempt in his voice was unmistakable. “The MacKenzie turned her out when he found out she was living in sin with the lad.”
“Oh.” The single syllable carried a wealth of understanding. “That’s... awful.”
“Aye,” Connor agreed, watching the rain intensify, lashing against the glass now. “She’s living alone on the far edge of my lands.”
“Will you help her?” Kate asked, moving to stand beside him at the window.
Connor sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”
“Because you’re still angry with her?”
He glanced at her, surprised by her directness. “She abandoned her family, her clan. Ran off with a man she barely knew, from a family with ties to our enemies. A family that now supports a Protestant usurper.”
“She fell in love,” Kate said softly. “People do all kinds of foolish things for love.”
“Love?” He scoffed. “If it was love, he wouldn’t have lied to her. Wouldn’t have left her alone to face the consequences of his actions.”
She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze on the rain-soaked landscape beyond the window. “Where I come from, we have a saying. Blood is thicker than water.”
“We say that here as well.”
“Family ties are stronger than other relationships. When everything else falls away, blood remains.” She turned to face him fully. “She’s your sister. Your blood.”
“She betrayed that blood when she chose the MacKenzies.”
“Did she? Or did she just make a mistake?” Her voice was soft. “We all make mistakes, especially when we’re young and think we know everything.”
Connor thought again of Elspeth in the orchard, so certain she could climb that tree. So devastated when she couldn’t. He’d carried her back to the house after she twisted her ankle in the fall, her small arms wrapped tightly around his neck, tears soaking his shoulder.
“She’s proud,” he said finally. “Too proud to ask for help directly.”
“Maybe she’s afraid you’ll turn her away,” Kate suggested. “Rejection from her husband’s family would be painful, but rejection from her brother? That might be unbearable.”
He moved away from the window, pacing the length of the study. Her words struck uncomfortably close to the truth. He and Elspeth were too similar in many ways. Both stubborn, both fiercely independent, both too proud for their own good.
“The MacDonalds would see it as weakness,” he said, thinking aloud. “If I take her back after she chose our enemies. The other Jacobite clans might question our loyalty to King James.”
“Maybe,” Kate conceded. “Or maybe they’d see it as strength. The strength to forgive, to put family above politics.” She paused, her gaze thoughtful. “From what I’ve seen of Highland life, your people respect strength above all else. But there are different kinds of strength, aren’t there? The strength to hold fast to your principles, yes, but also the strength to show mercy when it’s needed.”
A snort escaped. “Aye, I’ve shown mercy. I didn’t kill the lad.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But only because he already has three babes with his wife.”
He stopped pacing, struck by her perspective. In the clans, mercy was often viewed with suspicion, forgiveness with contempt. But there was another kind of strength in it, a strength his father had never understood or valued.
“The babe will be born a bastard,” he said, voicing another concern. “With no name, no inheritance. And with MacKenzie blood, the blood of our king’s enemies.”
“The baby will be your blood too,” Kate pointed out. “Your nephew or niece. Innocent of their father’s crimes or political allegiances.”
He hadn’t thought of it that way, that the child Elspeth carried was as much a MacLeod as a MacKenzie. His kin. His responsibility.
“I need to think on this,” he said finally. “There’s more at stake than just Elspeth’s welfare. The clan looks to me for leadership in these uncertain times.”
She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Of course. It’s a big decision.” She moved toward the door, then paused. “For what it’s worth, I think forgiveness is never wasted. Even if it’s not earned, even if it’s not asked for. It heals the one who gives it as much as the one who receives it.”
And wasn’t she the hypocrite? She hadn’t forgiven Angus, but then again, she’d come to realize since she’d been here that she hadn’t really loved him. Only thought he’d make a decent husband, more of a partnership than a loving marriage.
With that, she slipped out, leaving Connor alone with his thoughts and the persistent drumming of rain against the windows.
Connor spent the remainder of the day in a fog of indecision. He went through the motions of his duties. Reviewing the keep’s defenses, settling a dispute between two crofters, but his mind kept returning to Elspeth.
His sister had always been the heart of their family, even as a child. Where their father was stern and their brothers boisterous, Elspeth had been a bright spark of joy and mischief. After their mother died, she’d taken on the role of lady of the keep with a grace that belied her fifteen years, managing the household and caring for their youngest brother, Brodie, with a fierce devotion.
And then she’d met Alasdair MacKenzie at a gathering of the clans. Within a fortnight, she’d declared her intention to marry him. When their father forbade it, citing the long-standing tensions between their families and the MacKenzies’ questionable political loyalties, Elspeth had slipped away in the night, leaving nothing but a note explaining her choice.
Connor had been the one to find it, to break the news to their father. He’d watched as rage and grief warred on the old man’s face, had stood silently as he declared Elspeth dead to them. And though he had never spoken those words himself, he hadn’t contradicted them either.
Now, standing on the battlements as evening approached, watching the rain finally give way to a stunning sunset, Connor wondered if his silence had been its own kind of betrayal.
“You look troubled.”
He turned to find Murtagh making his way slowly along the wall. He’d been injured in a skirmish a while back. His clansman’s recovery had been painfully slow. But he was alive, and for that, Connor was profoundly grateful.
“Should you be up here?” Connor asked, concern overriding his surprise. “The stones are slick with rain.”
Murtagh waved off his worry. “I’ll not heal any faster lying abed like an invalid. Besides,” he added with a ghost of his old smile, “the view is better up here.”
Connor couldn’t argue with that. The rain had cleared the air, and the setting sun cast a golden light over the landscape, turning the wet stones of the keep to burnished bronze.
“I heard about Elspeth,” Murtagh said after a moment. “And her... complicated situation.”
Of course he had. News traveled fast within the keep, especially news of this nature.
“What will you do?” His oldest friend asked when he didn’t respond.
“I don’t know,” Connor admitted. “What would you do?”
Murtagh considered this, his gaze on the distant horizon. “I’d bring her home,” he said finally. “She’s your sister. Whatever mistakes she’s made, she’s still a MacLeod.”
“My father wouldn’t have agreed.”
“He isn’t here.” Murtagh’s voice was low. “You’re laird now. You make the decisions.”
Connor felt the weight of those words settle on his shoulders. Aye, he was laird now. The responsibility was his, but so was the authority. He could choose a different path than their father would have.
“The MacDonalds—” he began.
“Will think what they will, regardless of what you do,” Murtagh interrupted. “Better to act with honor and let them judge as they may.”
“And what of our loyalty to King James?” Connor pressed. “Taking in someone connected to a family that supports William?—”
“Elspeth didn’t swear allegiance to William,” Murtagh pointed out. “The man who betrayed her did. And now our enemies, the MacDonalds, who are also our supposed Jacobite allies, have cast her out in her time of need.” He shook his head. “If that’s what loyalty to James means, I’d question the value of such alliances.”
He was startled by the bluntness. “You sound like a man who questions his own loyalties.”
Murtagh’s gaze was steady. “I question nothing except the wisdom of letting politics dictate how we treat our own blood. King James wouldn’t ask that of you. He’s a man who values family above all else. Isn’t that why he fled to France? To protect his wife and son?”
Honor. The word resonated within Connor. Was it honorable to abandon his sister when she needed him most? To let his pride and anger, or worse, political considerations, overrule the bonds of blood?
Kate’s words from earlier echoed in his mind. Forgiveness heals the one who gives it as much as the one who receives it.
“I’ll send for her,” Connor decided, the words bringing an unexpected sense of relief. “Tomorrow, at first light.”
Murtagh nodded, satisfaction evident in his expression. “Good. It’s past time she came home.”
They stood in companionable silence as the last light faded from the sky, stars beginning to emerge in the darkening expanse above.
“Kate suggested as much,” Connor said after a while. “That I should forgive Elspeth, bring her home.”
“Did she now?” Murtagh’s tone was carefully neutral, but he caught the hint of a smile.
“She’s a wise woman, your Kate.”
“She’s not my Kate,” Connor protested a bit too quickly.
“No?” Murtagh raised an eyebrow. “The way you look at her suggests otherwise.”
Heat rose to his face as Connor was grateful for the dim light that hid his reaction. “She’s... different,” he said finally. “Unlike any woman I’ve known.”
“Aye, that’s plain enough to see. She doesn’t simper or flatter. Speaks her mind, that one. Sometimes I wonder where she learned such boldness.”
“Sometimes too bold,” Connor agreed, thinking of their conversations about clan politics, about his leadership, about the complicated loyalties of the Scottish clans. Kate never hesitated to challenge him, to offer a different perspective. It was refreshing, if occasionally maddening.
“She sees things clearly, though,” Murtagh observed. “Not clouded by old feuds or clan rivalries. There’s a wisdom in that, especially in these troubled times.”
Connor had the same thoughts. Kate’s outsider perspective often cut through the tangled web of Highland politics, offering insights he might have missed. “Aye,” he agreed. “She does.”
“You could do worse,” Murtagh observed.
Connor shot him a warning look. “We’re discussing Elspeth, not my... not Kate.”
“Of course,” Murtagh agreed, though his smile suggested he wasn’t fooled by the deflection. “Speaking of whom, I believe I see her in the courtyard.”
Connor followed his gaze. Sure enough, she was crossing the courtyard below, a basket over her arm, likely returning from gathering herbs with Moira. Even from this distance, he could see the grace in her movements, the way she paused to speak with one of the kitchen lads, her head tilted in that attentive way she had when listening.
“Go on, then,” Murtagh urged. “Tell her your decision about Elspeth. I’d wager she’ll be pleased.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Rest. Don’t overtax yourself.”
Murtagh’s laugh followed him down the narrow stairs. “Advice you might consider taking yourself, Connor.”
The courtyard was quieter than usual, the earlier rain having driven most indoors. Kate looked up as he approached, a smile lighting her face that did strange things to his pulse.
“Connor,” she greeted him. “How’s your headache?”
“Better,” he said, though in truth, he’d forgotten all about it. “I’ve made a decision. About Elspeth.”
Kate’s expression grew serious, attentive. “And?”
“I’m sending for her tomorrow. Bringing her home.”
The smile that broke across Kate’s face was like sunrise, warm and bright and full of promise. “I’m glad,” she said simply.
“As am I,” Connor admitted, surprised to find it was true. The decision, once made, felt right in a way he hadn’t expected. “Thank you for your counsel earlier. It helped me see things more clearly.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Kate demurred. “You would have come to the same conclusion on your own.”
“Perhaps,” Connor allowed. “But it might have taken longer. I can be...” He searched for the right word.
“Stubborn?” Kate suggested, eyes twinkling. “Obstinate? Hard-headed?”
“I was going to say ‘deliberate,’” Connor said dryly.
Kate laughed, the sound light and musical in the quiet courtyard. “That’s a very diplomatic way of putting it.”
He found himself smiling in response, drawn in by her mirth. “I can be diplomatic when the occasion calls for it.”
“I’m sure you can,” Kate agreed, still smiling. “It’s just not your first instinct.”
“And what is my first instinct, do you think?” The question came out more softly than he’d intended.
Kate’s smile gentled, her eyes searching his face. “To protect,” she said after a moment. “To bear burdens alone. And to put duty before all else.”
He was struck by the accuracy of her assessment, by how clearly she seemed to see him. “You’ve been paying attention,” he said, his voice low.
“I notice things,” Kate replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “It’s a habit.”
A habit that made her uniquely perceptive, challenging, and fascinating to him. Connor found himself wanting to know more about her habits, her thoughts, her life before she came to Bronmuir. But those were questions for another time.
“I should go,” Kate said, breaking the moment. “Moira’s waiting for these herbs.”
He nodded, reluctant to see her leave but aware of the eyes that might be watching from the keep’s windows. “Of course.”
She took a step, then paused, looking back at him.
“I think Elspeth is lucky,” she said. “To have a brother who can put family above politics.”
Before Connor could respond, she was gone, crossing the courtyard with swift steps. He watched her until she disappeared into the keep, her words echoing in his mind.
A brother who can put family above politics.
Her choice of words struck him. They could have been spoken by a Highlander born and bred, yet sometimes Kate seemed to view their world through different eyes, as if she stood outside their conflicts, seeing them with a clarity he could only envy.
He wasn’t sure if forgiveness was what he felt yet, but he was willing to try. For Elspeth, for the babe she carried, and perhaps, in some small way, for himself. And if bringing his sister home raised eyebrows among their Jacobite allies, so be it. Some bonds ran deeper than politics, deeper even than loyalty to a king.
With a last look at the darkening sky, Connor turned and made his way back to the keep, already planning the journey to retrieve his sister. It wouldn’t be easy. Few things worth doing ever were, but for the first time since receiving the news, he felt certain it was the right path.
Elspeth was coming home. The rest, they would face together, as family. As MacLeods.
The rain continued to fall as Connor made his way to his chambers, turning over the decision he’d made. Bringing Elspeth home was right. He felt certain of it now, but it would not be without complications.
In his private chamber, he found Ewan waiting with a stack of correspondence that required his attention. Most were routine matters. Reports from the outlying farms, requests for arbitration in minor disputes, but one letter bore the seal of Clan MacDonald.
“This arrived while you were on the battlements,” Ewan said, his expression carefully neutral.
He broke the seal and scanned the contents, his jaw tightening with each line. “The MacDonalds bicker over terms for my brother’s return. They press for our formal declaration for King James,” he said finally. “They say our silence makes our loyalty suspect.”
“And what will you tell them?” Ewan asked.
He moved to the hearth, staring into the flames. “That Clan MacLeod stands with King James, as we always have.” He spoke the words with conviction, though a small, pragmatic voice in his mind whispered that William’s grip on the throne would likely hold. It was a thought he shared with no one, not even Ewan.
“You dinna believe James will return, do ye?” Ewan asked quietly.
Connor’s head snapped up, surprised by his friend’s perception. “I’ll declare for James publicly,” he said carefully. “The clan expects it, and most Highland families support his return. But privately...” He paused, choosing his words with care. “I fear William’s hold on the throne may be stronger than many wish to believe.”
“A dangerous opinion to voice aloud,” Ewan observed.
“Aye, which is why I havena spoken it until now.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The MacDonalds and other Jacobite clans would see it as betrayal to even think James willna return to power.”
“Yet you’ll bring Elspeth home, despite her connection to a family that supports William?”
“She’s blood,” Connor said simply. “Whatever her politics, she remains a MacLeod.”
Ewan nodded, satisfaction in his eyes. “Good. The lass has suffered enough for one man’s betrayal.”
Connor returned to the letter, considering his response. He would affirm his clan’s loyalty to James, as tradition and politics demanded. But he would also make it clear that his sister’s return was not a matter for debate or judgment by other clans.
“I’ll send our counteroffer for Cameron and our formal declaration to the MacDonalds tomorrow,” he decided. “Along with men to bring Elspeth home.”
As Ewan left to make the arrangements, he found himself thinking of Kate again. Her perspective, so free from the entanglements of clan politics, had helped him see his way clear. Family above politics. It was a simple principle, yet one so often forgotten in the complex web of Highland alliances.