Highland Vengeance

Chapter 8

We arrived at Inverness later that afternoon. Kenneth MacAlpin, my ancient ancestor who had united ancient Scotland and ruled over the Kingdom of Alba, kept his seat at Inverness. Despite the fact that I’d grown comfortable and felt safe behind the walls in Cawdor, Inverness belonged to me as much as it belonged to Macbeth. As I passed through the gate, I felt its power. The stones reverberated with the old magic of Scotland. I felt my ancestors around me. And when I closed my eyes, I could hear their voices. It was distracting to suddenly find myself housed in a castle sitting in one of the thin places.

“Do you feel it?” Banquo asked me as he helped me out of the wagon.

I nodded. “I could fall between the worlds here.”

“The thinness is useful at times, for those of us who know the path,” he said with a wink.

I took his hand and squeezed it gently.

“Gruoch,” Macbeth called, crossing the courtyard to meet me.

I let go of Banquo.

“Welcome to Inverness. Please, come inside. Let me show you your new home,” Macbeth said, extending his hand to me.

I nodded, took Lulach from Ute, then went with Macbeth.

Banquo turned and walked away from us, Thora alongside him.

“I’ve had a section of the castle prepared for you and Lulach,” he said, leading me inside. “It’s winter now, but in the summer there is a small garden in your corridor. Come,” he said excitedly, leading me through the winding halls and up a flight of stairs to the second floor. We walked down a rampart that led to a massive door. “This section will be yours.”

Pushing open the door, he led me to a comfortable hall which boasted several benches, spinning wheels, a cozy fire, a space suitable for ladies’ work. Apparently, I was back to sewing and talking about babies once more.

“There is a room there for your maid here,” he said, motioning to a door just off the small hall. I looked back at Ute, who was smiling happily. “And the stairs there lead to the garden below,” he added, pointing.

“My lady, may I go have a look?” Ute asked brightly.

I nodded.

“This way,” Macbeth said, leading me to another door just off the private hall. “Your bedchamber.”

The chamber was vast and nicely appointed. Inside was a large wooden poster bed, a comfortable chair, another spinning wheel, a wardrobe, and several trunks. Someone had lit a fire. The room was warm and nicely adorned.

“This is the best part,” he said then led me to the door on the far side of the chamber. He pushed it open to reveal a balcony that looked over the river.

“It’s lovely,” I said.

“I thought you would like it. My chamber is at the other end of the rampart.”

I nodded. So he had not intended for us to sleep together. Was that only until we were married or would we keep separate apartments, as was the fashion at court? It had never occurred to me that I might sleep separately from Gillacoemgain. I had merely assumed we would be together. Perhaps Macbeth had intended a more formal arrangement, or was he just trying to be polite? I hardly knew. I couldn’t get a fix on the man. So far, I hadn’t seen the person living below the surface of that pale skin and blue eyes. Macbeth was…blocked. What manner of man lived underneath? I wasn’t sure.

“I’ve sent a rider south to Malcolm. We’ll need his approval before our nuptials can be formalized, but I promise to take good care of you. You have nothing to fear here. I’ll see to your every need.”

Can you? the raven questioned with an unseen smirk. The waspishness of the question surprised me. “Thank you,” I replied.

But Macbeth was right. In matters of state, I belonged to King Malcolm. The bloody king who’d masterminded my own father’s death would give my hand where he wanted it given. Learning that I was in Macbeth’s entourage might influence his decision, but that all depended on whether or not he believed he could rule Macbeth. That was something I wasn’t sure about. But Malcolm’s plans were not clear. On the surface, it had seemed he had favored Gillacoemgain. But if that was so, how had Macbeth slipped Malcolm’s yoke armed well enough to war against Gillacoemgain? Had the king decided, in the end, that Gillacoemgain was not the ruler in the north he’d wanted? I didn’t know. But Duncan had been on his way to Aberdeen, and I remembered well that the king had instructed Gillacoemgain to send me there.

“Malcolm… What do you think he will do?” I asked Macbeth.

“I’m not sure,” Macbeth said, but I noticed the guarded expression on his face. “Duncan is his favorite and holds his ear. If there is a way to appease Duncan, we should not anticipate any opposition. Much depends on how much Duncan pouts.”

“Or on Malcolm’s confidence in his ability to bring you to heel. You did, after all, slip his grasp,” I replied, seeking to scratch the surface.

“Yes, well…” Macbeth shifted uncomfortably. His averted gaze was all the proof I needed. Malcolm had sent him north. Macbeth had been tasked with taking Moray from Gillacoemgain.

“And, of course, you also did what you were not supposed to do. Claiming me as a war prize wasn’t part of the deal you made with Malcolm.”

“Deal?” he asked. The muscles under his left eye twitched. “What do you mean?”

“Malcolm sent you north to overthrown Gillacoemgain and subdue Thorfinn of Orkney. Why did you come after me when you knew Malcolm had planned to wed me to Duncan once Gillacoemgain was dead?”

Macbeth stared at me. “How did you know?”

I was right. “Does it matter?”

“Because if I captured the Lady of Moray, Malcolm would have to give you to me or make war to get you back. Either way, I got what I wanted.”

“What you wanted?”

“To be free of Malcolm. To come home, back in the halls of my ancestors. You were the key to my freedom. Malcolm cannot make me return to court as his ward now that I am here in Inverness with the Lady of Moray and Gillacoemgain’s heir at my side. He cannot war against me now. And he cannot force me to return you without talk that will weaken him. I needed you to win my freedom and my birthright. I will not lick Duncan’s boots. I will rule the north as my father did before me, before Gillacoemgain murdered him. I will not give over my birthright to my cousin or anyone else.”

I should have run away with Banquo. “I see,” I said simply.

“I’m sorry. You were nothing more than a name, a woman with a title everyone was keen to win. Now that I see you—you—I would do anything to protect you. Don’t you see? We were destined to rule together. How else can you explain those strange visions? The Lord saw fit to show us our destiny.”

Once again, the Lord. “But what is the nature of your relationship with Thorfinn of Orkney?”

“He is like a brother to me. I would never raise a hand against him, no matter what I promised Malcolm.”

Macbeth had lied to Malcolm in order to make his escape.

There was a knock on the door. “My lady?”

It was Banquo.

A confused look crossed Macbeth’s face. He crossed the room and opened the door. “Banquo? What is it?”

Banquo looked equally caught off guard. “Lady Gruoch’s belongings,” he said, motioning to the men behind him.

“Come,” Macbeth said, motioning to servants and pulling on a cheerful mask. “Let’s leave those matters behind,” he whispered to me. “There is a deer roasting in the hall. The cases of wine are ready. It’s a merry return. Let’s celebrate,” Macbeth said, smiling from Banquo to me, clasping us both on the shoulders. “Here I am with my future bride and one of my dearest friends. What a lucky man I am. I’ll see to my devotions then meet you both in the feasting hall this evening?”

Yes, let’s celebrate my husband’s murder. Sounds festive. Masking my feelings, I nodded.

“At last, I am home. Tonight, we’ll rejoice. I’ll see you in your finest, Thane of Lochaber.”

“Aye, my lord,” Banquo replied.

“My lady,” Macbeth said, taking my hand and laying a courtly kiss thereon.

I forced myself to smile.

With that, Macbeth left. Banquo and I were alone once more.

“Do you need anything? Are you all right here?” he asked.

“As well as I can be. Seems my embroidery and spinning are waiting for me,” I said, motioning to the spinning wheel and baskets of cloth and thread.

Banquo chuckled. “I suppose you’re not quite what he was expecting.”

“To say the least.”

Banquo smiled. “I should go clean up. We’ve been on the road for weeks. Maybe even shave this beard.”

“I don’t know. I like it,” I said with a smile, reaching out to touch his face. It had been meant as a playful gesture, but the sensation that filled me from head to toe when I touched him rattled me.

Banquo set his hand on mine and pressed my hand against his cheek, leaning into my touch. “Cerridwen,” he whispered, soaking in the moment. But then he let go.

I pulled my hand back slowly.

This was going to be impossible.

Banquo shook his head, and without another word, he turned and left.

I set Lulach down to sleep in the beautifully carved cradle beside the bed then went out on the terrace. It was cold and windy outside. A swirl of snowflakes drifting off the roof of the castle spun around me. The cold wind stung my body. I gripped the stone railing, the ice and snow crunching under my hands. I closed my eyes and felt the wind. I could hear the waves on the icy river as the water tripped over the rocks. I gritted my teeth hard and tried to let the cold seep into me, hoping it would freeze the terrible pain racking my heart.