Highlander Enchanted(14)

“What’ve ye found?” Cade asked, too irritated by his night to render the proper greeting.

“A delightful scheme!” was the unusually enthusiastic reply.

Cade exchanged a look with Niall. They approached the priest’s desk. It was littered with scrolls, and his thick bible lay on the floor. Cade picked it up and then kissed the cover out of respect for the book and his priest.

“Ye forgot t’cross y’self first,” Father Adam reminded him.

Cade obeyed and solemnly made the sign of the Christian cross. The priest smiled, a gleam of laughter in his ancient eyes.

Father Adam had tried hard to convert the clan to Christianity and upon failing, had managed to bridge his religion and the nature-focused seillie beliefs by drawing upon similarities between the two. The result was a healthy respect of a religion not entirely theirs among the clan members, and the priest’s appreciation of his god’s miraculous creation of the seillie and their magic.

“What is it ye found?” Cade asked gruffly.

“These writs are the same,” the priest proclaimed, lifting two scrolls.

“That doesna mean nothing,” Cade said impatiently. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Och!” The priest appeared annoyed. “If ye listened t’me years ago, Cade, ye’d be readin’ by now!”

“I doona wish t’read when I ‘ave ye!”

“Are we wee lads again?” Niall interjected with a laugh. “Tell us what ye found, Father.”

Cade clamped his mouth closed. His temper was shorter than normal, and he blamed the English nobles in his home for it while forbidding his thoughts from straying to the memory of Lady Isabel in his arms.

Like she belonged t’me already. The magic had tried to warn him she was special. He shook his head.

“This writ is t’the Scottish King John,” the priest started. He held up the second. “This is t’the English King Edward. Both writs read the same.” He leaned closer to the candles lighting his desk and began to read slowly, translating from Latin as he went. “I, Isabel de Clare, daughter of Lord William de Clare of Saxony and Lady Martha MacCosse, respectfully inform ye, sire, that I have chosen a husband, in accordance with the contract granted me by His Grace, King Edward. Be it known from this day hence that I am to be known as Lady Isabel de Clare MacLachlainn of Saxony and MacCosse. By the grant of God, and beneath His Heavens, fer which we give grace and gratitude for each day the sun shines His good will upon us, I am humbly grateful fer yer favor, Yer Grace, and may God bless ye and yer reign.”

Cade’s brow furrowed. “Her mother was a MacCosse.” The clan was rumored to have perished completely when their chieftain died childless. He knew little else of the clan, having never had a chance to meet any of its members.

Niall had frowned at the mention of Saxony, his look of consternation one that Cade shared, despite firm evidence there was no link between the Englishwoman in their midst and their time in the Holy Lands.

“In this writ, she addresses King Edward rather than King John and claims to be Lady Isabel de Clare of Saxony betrothed to Lord Richard of Stewart,” the priest finished. “There is no other difference betwixt th’two.”

“How is one wench betrothed to two men?” Niall asked, baffled.

The priest shrugged. “I havena read these.” He indicated two more scrolls. “I believe the question is, what contract did the English and Scottish kings grant her that she can choose a husband. The writs are no’ signed though there is a place for the mark of her uncle, a Duke of some note, to affirm the contract.”

“Two contracts, each made in secret with a king. ‘Tis treason,” Niall said and stared hard at the writs.

“Yea, my thought as well.” Cade picked up the smaller of the two remaining scrolls. It appeared older, its paper less fine and the edges tattered, as if she had kept it for some time. If it were not important, there was no need. “Read this one.”

Father Adam nodded. “It will take me some time. These are no’ written in my tongue but Latin.”

“Verra well. I can wait.” Cade glanced out the window at the tempest. He could keep his visitors here as long as he wished with the rain. “She called herself a MacCosse,” Cade mused. “If her mother was a MacCosse, she is the sole heir t’clan MacCosse’s land.”

“Yea,” Niall said softly. “The land is under the protection of the king. But why did she choose ye in place of a wealthy laird, and why does she want ye dead?”

“I doona ken.” Cade’s thoughts flew with possibilities. His sole purpose since returning from the Crusades had been to reclaim the lands of his clan lost when his father fell into illness. With no gold and no official title, he was able to do neither, hence the agreement he considered from the MacDonald clan.

The MacCosse lands, however, ran along the northern coast. They were fertile, easy to defend – and unclaimed after the death of the chieftain. The war that ensued after Laird MacCosse’s death was brutal, even by Highland standards, and King John had been forced to step in to end the feud for the sake of peace. The lands were placed in the royal holdings pending the claim of its rightful heir, which all but the Crown seemed to believe was dead.

“Even if ‘twere possible she was yer wife, ye have the MacDonald’s drawing up a contract already, with lands that are equal in size.” Brian pointed out. “We doona ken if this is real.” He waved a hand at the writs. “But Laird MacDonald is old. He willna last five years, and the lands will be yers.”