Page 6 of Highland Spirit

Their presence here had been kept a secret. They rarely lit torches outside, and the sheep they raised that were stolen and smuggled in were usually kept in a barn that looked abandoned. They were prisoners of Diarmad, even though they were now his family. It was an ill jest of fate that their lives had turned out this way. Her father’s health had been failing lately. Still, Diarmad made him work with him at smuggling goods in and out of England, saying he needed to pay back his debt to him, though she knew it could never be repaid. One bad deed done by her father only led to more, she realized. He no longer questioned Diarmad, but just did as he instructed. When had this gotten so out of hand?

Gossip had it that there was once a laird of Blackbriar Castle who lived here and had gone mad. He murdered his bride on their wedding day and threw her out the tower window. Whether or not this really happened, she couldn’t be sure. The stories were legends now, and never diminished even after all these years.

To protect their secret, Diarmad made sure the legend lived on to keep outsiders far away. He forced Alana to scream and throw a dummy dressed like a ghost out the window to scare away any intruders or people even thinking about visiting the isle.

“Alana, I saw a boy and two big men in a boat,” said her brother. Finn was tall now with blond hair and had a lithe frame. He’d just turned three and ten years of age recently. Her sister, Kirstine, was one and twenty years of age and Alana was three and twenty.

“What boy?” she asked. “Do you mean Oliver, the boy who used to live on the island?” Alana asked anxiously, thinking that the children might have been killed when they disappeared.

“Aye, I’m sure it was him,” said Finn. “And the two men on the boat are wearin’ plaids. I think they’re Highlanders.”

“Really.” This interested Alana. She hadn’t had contact with anyone except for the English smugglers who brought the deliveries to them in secret, docking their ship on the far side of the isle in a hidden cove. She longed to see or perhaps talk to a Highlander again that had naught to do with Diarmad and the others. “What do ye think they want?” she wondered.

“I’m no’ sure. I thought I heard them say they were lookin’ for somethin’ that was left here.”

Alana feared for the men’s lives. She wasn’t sure what Diarmad would do if they wandered closer to the castle. “Mayhap they’ll find what they came for and leave quickly.”

“Mayhap,” said the boy, trying to catch his breath. He sounded as if he had run all the way back from the shore. “But the big, burly Highlander has a hound. I couldna see his face but I’m sure he is mean. The dog followed me up here and is probably right behind me.”

“A hound?” she asked.

“It was huge! I think it was a wolfhound.”

“By the rood, we’ve got to close the gate!” she cried. “Fast, Finn, run up to the battlements and tell the guards to lower the gate and raise the drawbridge anon. If they enter the castle, Diarmad will most likely kill them.” This was her only way of protecting the strangers, whoever they were.

“I will,” he said, taking off at a run.

“Everyone, get inside,” Alana shouted, sending the occupants of the castle scurrying about. There weren’t many people living at Blackbriar. Diarmad had about a dozen men and a handful of servants. Of course, her family and her father’s friends, Albert and Graeme, who had been captured with them now worked for Diarmad as well.

“Alana, what is it?” Her sister, Kirstine, ran up, pulling her cloak tighter around her body. She was carrying her baby low now, and the birth could happen at any time. The wind picked up, making a light flurry of snow swirl around them.

“Strangers are on the isle,” Alana reported. “I’ve instructed Finn to tell the guards to close the gate and raise the drawbridge immediately for their own protection. Where are Diarmad and his men?”

“They’re down at the cove, preparin’ for the next shipment.”

“Guid. Hopefully, the intruders will leave before Diarmad ever sees them.”

“Look!” Kirstine’s eyes opened wide and she pointed to a large wolfhound that ran right under the descending gate and entered the courtyard. In the light of a few dimly burning torches, Alana saw the terrifying, large beast as it headed right for her.

“Nay!” She held out her hands and turned her head as the dog leapt up and knocked her to the ground. She was sure it was going to bite her or perhaps tear her to shreds. But instead, the hound started licking her face.

She pulled back, looking at the huge white dog that seemed to know her. She had a feeling she knew it, too.

“Trapper?” she said, running a hand over the dog’s head, not believing her eyes.

“Whose dog is it?” asked Kirstine curiously.

“It belongs to the Highlanders who docked on the isle,” said Alana, getting to her feet. “Kirstine, I think this is Ethan’s dog.”

“Oh,” she said, perusing it. “It must belong to another of his clan now since his death.”

“Should we kill it?” asked Graeme, calling down from the battlements, always ready to use his sword.

“Nay, it’s just a dog,” she answered. “Try to catch it and put it outside the gate. Everyone get inside the keep. Kirstine, where is Isobel?” Alana looked around for her four-year-old daughter but didn’t see her anywhere.

“I dinna ken,” said Kirstine. “She was here just a moment ago.”

“I want ye to find her quickly.” Alana started away.