Page 32 of Highlander’s Ancient Vengeance

Malle, despite sleeping during the day, found herself utterly exhausted that night, and fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She was slumbering so deeply that when Craig crept into her room, having removed all but a tiny piece of the bandage on his foot, she did not even stir.

He knelt by her bed to watch her sleep, her face silvered by the moonlight streaming through the window. Knowing that she was near, he had been unable to stay away, and now he took her hand from where it lay on the coverlet and kissed it.

We will be together soon, my Malle, he thought, smiling.

Presently, however, she said softly, “I know you are there, Dunbar.” Then she smiled and opened her eyes. “Have you come to talk to me?”

He was surprised. “You told me you were a heavy sleeper, so I came to look at you,” he whispered. “The way I did yesterday. I like watching you sleep.”

“I am, and you did not make a sound. I felt you here.” Malle suddenly pulled the covers back. “Come in for a moment, I want to talk to you.”

He hesitated, frowning. “If anyone comes in—”

“No one will come in,” she reassured him. “Anyway, we are only talking, and we are betrothed.”

He needed no second bidding, but climbed into bed and slid under the covers with her, then took her hands and held them to his chest.

“I could stay here forever,” he whispered as he nestled beside her in a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

She giggled, then ran her fingers down his beard as her face became solemn again. “Do you think it is fanciful to believe that Donnan and Isobell were somehow guiding us?” she asked. “Do you think they wanted us to put right what they could not? Mungo Bruce killed Isobell in the past for marrying a Dunbar, and Alan tried to make sure that history repeated itself. Perhaps they have finally managed to get retribution for the wrong that was done to them by killing a Bruce and marrying two enemies.”

Craig thought for a moment. “I think that if that were the case,” he mused, “they would give us a sign.”

“What kind of sign?” Malle asked.

Craig shook his head. “I have no idea. Perhaps you are right, you are being fanciful! Do you not think it more likely that we just fell in love?”

Suddenly he pulled her to him and gave her a long, smoldering kiss.

“No,” she gasped, as she pushed him away. “Not yet, my love.”

“Give yourself peace, Malle,” he said tenderly. “I was just slaking my thirst. I have wanted to do that ever since the last kiss!” Then he slipped out from underneath the sheets and left, turning to smile at her as he closed the door behind him.

After breakfast the next day, Malle took out the letters and diary from her saddlebag and showed them to Craig. Malcolm was looking over his shoulder and was intrigued when he saw them. His eyes lit up when he read the entry from Isobell’s diary and the letter from Mungo to Isobell.

“And as we now know, Mungo killed Isobell, or got some poor girl to do it,” he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “The story goes that he did not live long after that. I have a notion that there is a letter, or maybe several letters to Donnan Dunbar somewhere here. He was a frequent letter writer, so I have heard, even though paper was quite hard to come by in those days.”

Malcolm stood, thinking for a moment, then turned decisively to Craig. “Well, big man, since you are doing nothing more profitable today, I nominate you to begin the search!” he said generously, as if bestowing a great gift.

“Where would you like me to start?” Craig asked, bewildered. “Father, there are seventy bedrooms in this castle!”

“You are a sensible fellow,” Malcolm said comfortably, patting his son’s shoulder. “I am sure you can find it.”

“Where are you going?” Craig asked, frowning.

Kenneth turned to Craig, grinning. “Your father and I are going to celebrate our new friendship with a spot of rabbit hunting!” he announced.

“And a wee bit of usquebae!” Malcolm added, holding up a flask of whisky. Then they left, laughing, joking, and punching each other like two little boys playing.

“Oh, my goodness!” Margaret said, putting her hand over her mouth and laughing. “What have we started?”

“They have gone back to their second childhood, Mammy!” Malle suggested, smiling and shaking her head.

“If they ever left it,” Craig remarked grimly.

Despite its size, there were not many places in the castle that were unfamiliar to Craig. He searched storerooms, bedrooms, and cupboards, and uncovered dozens of mouse nests, and spiders by the thousands, but there was no letter anywhere.

At last, exhausted, he went back to the parlor for a drink of ale, only to find Margaret and Malle reading a large sheet of paper which had been carefully preserved in a slim leather folio.