A Time of Madness Read online

  A Time of Madness

  Book 9

  Marti Talbott’s Highlander Series

  By

  Marti Talbott

  © 2010

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER VIII

  CHAPTER IX

  CHAPTER X

  CHAPTER XI

  CHAPTER XII

  CHAPTER XIII

  CHAPTER XIV

  CHAPTER XV

  TRIPLETS

  CHAPTER I

  More Marti Talbott Books

  Neasan MacGreagor came home an angry man determined to get revenge for being sent away. Yet the man he most wanted to kill, Laird Justin MacGreagor, died before he could. Now the clan had to choose a new laird and most expected it would be Justin’s son, Sawney. However, Neasan had other plans. Could all his plotting and scheming actually make this ruthless man their next Laird?

  CHAPTER I

  SHE WAS TOLD NEVER to go off alone, but Mackinzie Campbell had a mind of her own and Laird Campbell had given up trying to control her years ago. The color of her hair was more red than brown, her eyes were green, she had a smattering of freckles across her nose, and her favorite place in the world to be was standing in the tall grass on the crest of a hill overlooking the crashing waves of the sea below.

  To the north, an island where some of the Campbells lived, often tempted her to cross the water but she doubted she would be any happier there. In the opposite direction, the land rose up into high cliffs that curved around the bay, and never was there a lack of seagulls gracefully gliding in the wind.

  The dark clouds on the horizon and the ferociousness of the waves hitting the rocks was a sure sign another storm was approaching and if she waited too long to go back, she was sure to get soaked to the bone. Still, the rhythm of the sea often held her spellbound as it hit the rocks, rushed up the sandy beach and then subsided.

  The sun was still shining on the hill and the pleasant meadow behind it, which was rimmed with tall Scots Pine trees and a thickness of undergrowth. A path at the bottom of the hill led from the ocean to a waterfall that offered plenty of fish easily caught.

  Mackinzie loved the feel of the wind in her unbound, waist length hair. She wore the light blue and yellow plaid of her clan and a blue shirt, with the customary measure of plaid over her heart and shoulder.

  Orphaned at an early age with no siblings, she often wondered what it would be like to have a real family. She never seemed to abide with any one set of parents for very long. After all, they did have valid reasons for sending her away, like a cottage too small, her unwillingness to obey, or a mother who could abide her silence no longer.

  By the time she reached seven she realized rejection most often occurred when she spoke out of turn. Since she was never quite certain when her turn was, she spoke less and less to avoid the problem. On the other hand, when she was not fond of the family who kept her, talking out of turn was very beneficial.

  There were other reasons for her silence, but those she kept to herself. At thirteen, Laird Campbell had had enough of her unruly behavior and decided to give Mackinzie a cottage of her own. That suited her just fine.

  She might have feared for her safety living alone, but her devil may care attitude and the gift of suitable weapons from an unknown benefactor, made her a better fighter than most men. Everyone was well aware she would not hesitate to kill if she needed to. Likewise, she was a good hunter and when she wanted something more than meat, she offered to wash clothing. The unmarried men and women who were occasionally unwell greatly appreciated her efforts, but otherwise kept their distance.

  It was true, Mackinzie had no friends, having insulted every member of the clan at one time, or another, and no Campbell was likely to marry her. If any man had asked for her, which she doubted, Laird Campbell most likely warned against it. Always before she did not care, but as she got older, loneliness began to plague her. Her life, therefore, was one unhappy day after another for which she sought relief, as she did on this day, at the top of the hill overlooking the sea.

  She was about to leave when she spotted a magnificent black stallion running along the edge of the sea with its tail lifted and its head held high. He seemed to enjoy the feel of splashing through the water’s edge and he was almost out of sight when he stopped, turned and looked up at her.

  Never had she seen such a wondrous sight and she was even more pleased when the stallion started up the hill toward her. His eyes were as black as the rest of him, but she saw no danger and when he stopped within reach, she smiled and patted the side of his head. She expected him to bolt and run away, but when she moved closer and stroked his neck, the stallion stood perfectly still and let her. He seemed larger than most horses and to mount him she would need a rock to stand on, so she contented herself with just petting him. A few minutes seemed to be enough for them both and soon he turned, went down the hill, crossed the meadow behind it, and walked into the forest.

  Somehow, her spirits were lifted that day. It was a good omen that put an uncommon smile on her face, and for a reason she did not understand, she felt her life was about to have meaning.

  As soon as it started to sprinkle, Mackinzie hurried down the hill and headed back to her village.

  NEASAN MACGREAGOR HALTED his horse at the end of the long, wide MacGreagor glen and listened. A guard, hidden somewhere in the forest, whistled and soon the whistle was repeated until it reached the ears of all those living in the large village, where the paths meandered between dozens of cottages at the other end of the glen. Behind the cottages sat a three-story keep where their laird lived and conducted the clan’s daily business. In front of the Keep, two halves of a short, semicircle stonewall skirted the large courtyard and the wide gap between them began the path down the center of the glen. The ends of the walls were beginning to crumble, but everyone was certain they would be repaired someday.

  Decided upon generations before, each whistle had a different meaning, the longest of which meant danger. This whistle, however, only prepared them for a visitor. A visitor? Had he changed so much in seven years the men no longer recognized one who was born and raised in their village? It must be so, for as he started his horse down the path in the middle of the glen, no one came to greet him as he expected. Perhaps they were too shocked.

  Strapped on a two-wheel cart built especially for the hauling, his horse pulled an enormous, curved bone that had already astounded many a Highlander. Few had seen the ocean, let alone the bone of a sea monster.

  Any other man might have been happy when Laird Justin MacGreagor sent him away, for Neasan MacGreagor had seen far more of the people and the land of Scotland than any of them had. It was true, in his youth, Neasan craved adventure, but being allowed to leave was not the same thing as being forced to. Neasan was forced to go and unjustly too, for even if he was guilty, Laird MacGreagor had no proof.

  The other two men sent with him were not accused of any crimes and did not suspect the true reason for their sudden departure. Neasan did. He suspected they were sent away for no reason other than being greatly disliked by their laird. The truth be told, Neasan didn’t like them much either, but he needed them and kept silent on the matter. Laise and Osgar thoroughly enjoyed the journey even when food was scarce and the nights were cold. Like them or not, their ultimate fate was also an injustice, one which Neasan could not forgive or forget.

  NEASAN WAS A VERY LARGE man, as most MacGreagor men were, with blond hair, blue eyes and a nose that had been broken more than once. His beard and mustache covered most of his lower face, save f
or where a long, unsightly scar on one cheek marked his greatest battle. It was a battle fought alongside Laise and Osgar near the end of their first year away and it did not go well, but the MacGreagors would never hear the real account.

  The seeds of Neasan’s wrath were planted long ago, although he could not precisely say what first caused his discontent. Yet on the day his face was scared and his good looks vanished, his bitterness quickly increased. Until that day, Neasan thought of himself as a handsome man, at least as handsome as any other was, and his ability to attract women with a smile proved him right. Now, women quickly looked away. That too was Laird Justin MacGreagor’s fault.

  The one woman Neasan truly wanted was Justin’s daughter, Paisley, but Justin let few men near her. Paisley had sparkling blue eyes, hair the color of snow and many men dreamed of having her. For months, he watched her from afar, but not once did she notice him or favor him with her smile. Her coy and rude behavior toward him was an unthinkable insult.

  Even if Justin had allowed Neasan to court her, MacGreagor women had a say in choosing their husbands and it was unlikely Paisley would have chosen him. Therefore, it served Justin and his daughter right when Laird Macalister abducted her and Neasan was only too willing to help.

  Unfortunately, after she was recovered, she married a laird from another clan. That too made Neasan furious. He did not love her, that much he knew, he only wanted to claim her as his prize. All was not lost, however, for husbands died all the time and hers would be easy to kill.

  Soon after he was accused of aiding Paisley’s abductor, Neasan was abruptly sent away. His punishment was much worse than death or banishment—he and the other two were sent to find something that should have been impossible to find - the bone of a sea monster.

  Spending his nights alone after the other two died and wandering the shores of Scotland looking for the impossible only served to further increase his rage. Then one day his luck changed. His horse nearly tripped over the tip of a bone sticking out of the sand and upon closer look and extensive digging, the fragment turned out to be the gigantic rib bone of a beached whale.

  At last, he brought the impossible home and people were beginning to recognize him. Neasan MacGreagor completed his ride to the village with pride and pretended smiles for them all. He was a hero of sorts, and when he stopped his horse, dismounted, and untied the cart, nearly all of the people were gathered to admire the bone. Best of all, they had a mountain of questions he was going to enjoy embellishing for the next few days at least.

  Laird Justin MacGreagor did not come to greet him and Neasan took that to mean he was not welcome back, until he learned his laird was ill. That was unfortunate indeed. For months, Neasan savored the idea of calling a healthy Justin out and fighting to the death. Now he had to wait until the man either regained his health or died.

  Yet two of Justin’s sons were there, Sawney, who looked like a younger version of his father and Hew, who appeared more shy and quiet than Neasan remembered. Both were fully grown now and if it came to that, Neasan thought neither would be difficult to defeat in battle.

  “What of my son?” asked a woman.

  As the crowd quieted, Neasan lowered his sorrowful eyes. Appearing sympathetic was something he practiced the night before and he neglected to answer for just the right length of time. “Laise and Osgar fought bravely and died with honor.“

  The mother caught her breath and as her eyes began to tear, Neasan tenderly took her in his arms. It was not something he enjoyed, but it had to be done if the clan was to think him a changed man.

  ONLY FOUR MEN WERE seated in chairs around a table in the small cottage, but the rest of the room was filled to the brim with the curious, all wanting to hear the first of Neasan’s exciting accounts.

  “Aye, we fought them,” said Neasan, “‘twas a fine battle easily won. We were as dancers, spinning here and jabbing there until all five lay dying on the green. Before that first battle, I did not know how well we could fight. I tell you true, were the MacGreagors conquerors, we could rule half of Scotland.”

  “Will the king mind if we take half of Scotland?” one of the men jokingly asked.

  Neasan grinned and lowered his voice a little. “I vow not to tell him, what say you?” Determined to be well liked, he was pleased when the men roared with laughter. It appeared to be working.

  In the back of the crowd, Sawney was not laughing. He remembered his sister’s abduction well and had a two-inch scar on his neck to remind him. One moment he was standing next to Paisley and the next, a man held a dagger to his throat while another man carried her away. Her abductors had help and it wasn’t long before it became clear Neasan was the traitor.

  It was Sawney’s Aunt Carley who saved Neasan from being either executed or banished. Once they were convinced Neasan was guilty, Justin, Carley, and Sawney talked long into the night in Justin’s bedchamber trying to think of the best way to rid the clan of a man they could never trust again. It was not for Neasan’s sake Carley pled on his behalf, but for his mother’s, who was Carley’s closest friend.

  Now, an enormous whalebone stood in the middle of the glen, the other two men were dead and Neasan sat in his mother’s cottage gloating over his accomplishment without noticing her absence. She did not believe the rumors of his treachery, faithfully watched each day for her beloved son’s return and his name was the last she spoke before she died two months before. Indeed, Neasan was laughing instead of mourning and Sawney seemed to be the only one disturbed by it.

  Sawney had heard enough. The MacGreagors were not conquerors and it did no good to excite the minds of warriors. He turned around, eased between two men standing behind him, went out the door, and walked away.

  CHAPTER II

  ALL THEIR LIVES THEY lived a peaceful existence in the MacGreagor glen; falling in love, marrying, giving birth to the next generation and dancing to the flute player’s music. Most assumed they would be buried beside the long, wide glen where tall headstones marked the graves of those who had gone before.

  The glen was surrounded by massive forests that offered good hunting, and a river behind the village supplied them with plenty of fresh water. They washed clothing and bathed in the convenient loch, had ample grazing for their livestock and good soil for growing herbs, grains, and vegetables. More importantly, Justin managed to keep them out of wars with the other clans.

  His father gave him the name of Alaisdair, but the clan called him Sawney. He was not yet twenty-one, had Justin’s same height of 6’ 5”, a well-developed build, dark hair and bright blue eyes. Yet to those who remembered her, his features were more like those of his English mother. He wore a green kilt, the same as all MacGreagor men, with light blue threads enter-woven to separate the green into squares. His leather shoes laced up to his knees and he wore a sun-bleached white shirt with a measure of plaid over his heart and shoulder.

  Sawney enjoyed life more than most. He often went with the hunters or took a turn standing guard in the forest. The best of times were had when he came across men from other clans. By the time he reached eighteen, he had a reputation of being friendly, fair, and fun to exchange gossip with. Not once did he neglect to share his wine and food with strangers.

  As he got older, the need of a wife occupied his mind more often than he cared to admit. He expected he would become the clan’s next laird, and if that happened, he needed a good woman to stand by his side. The problem was, he had not fallen in love since he was fifteen.

  “You are too particular,” said Hew. A little less than a year younger than Sawney, Hew looked enough like him to be his twin. The brothers often took up the hunt together, something they both greatly enjoyed. However, the day after Neasan’s return the hunting was sparse and after half a day, they decided to sit in the forest and rest for a while. “You find fault with their smiles, the way they walk and even their laughter.”

  “A lifetime is a long time to enjoy a lass’s laughter when it sounds remarkably like the bark of a re
d fox.”

  At first Hew chuckled, and then he got serious. “Of whom do you speak? I am in want of a wife as well, you know. Or do you hope I will marry her and not find out until after?”

  “Would I do such a thing to the only brother I have left?” The mention of lost loved ones made both of them pause. Each generation, it seemed, suffered some sort of disease that killed many as it spread throughout Scotland, and this generation was no exception. It began with a feeling of ill health, then a fever, a sore throat, a cough and a rasping sound in their lungs.

  For a full month, they did nothing but care for the ill and bury the dead. Still, some of the weakest lived, others didn’t even get sick, and everyone tried to guess why. Thyme, the elders finally decided—those that didn’t get sick were partial to thyme. Others thought the idea ridiculous but began to consume more wild thyme just in case. Thankfully, the illness was behind them now and although they lost friends and relatives, the mourning period too had passed.

  Seated on a fallen log, Hew stared at the ground. “We lost so many I know not which to miss most.”

  “I think of our brothers constantly. Our bedchambers are so quiet at night I can hardly sleep. We still have Father...and Paisley did not die.”

  “True, we should see about Paisley more often. ‘Tis but a short ride to the Graham markets.”

  A slow smile crossed Sawney’s face. “Is it Paisley you wish to see or might it be the comely lasses who go to market there?”

  Hew picked up a stick and tossed it at his brother. “Are you as witless as all that? Do you not know if my dear sister happens to be there, I will enjoy seeing her as well.”

  “That is what I thought.” Sawney leaned back against the trunk of a tree and sighed. “Finding a wife is not as easy as I once thought.”

  “And a wife, our next laird must surely have. Wives have a way of calming the clan when there is trouble.”