How to Bewitch a Highlander – Get Extended Epilogue
Author: Shona Thompson
How to Bewitch a Highlander – Extended Epilogue
The sun beat down on Ramsey Bain so heavily that he wondered if it was trying to fight him. The sword in his hand was heavy enough that it made his arms ache as he had been wielding it for a while now. Sweat dripped down his brow as he stood, waiting for his opponent’s strike, but he could not even take the time to wipe his sweat because he knew that if he gave any openings at all, he would lose in an instant.
Standing in front of him with his sword at the ready was his older cousin, and The Younger of the clan, Nathan Mackenzie. His cousin was a beautiful young man. He did not think that there was any other explanation that could do him justice. His strawberry blond hair that he got from his blond father and red-haired mother, had grown long enough to brush his collar bones when he let it down now. His dark blue eyes were teasing and full of laughter most of the time, but there were times when that playfulness became scary, and now was one such moment, as sparring with his cousin made him feel like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.
The two of them were the best swordsmen in their age group. Nathan continued to tell him that the gap in their skills was only because Nathan was older than him with five years, but Ramsey knew that was a lie. Nathan was just ridiculously strong and the only reason why he could fight better than everyone else, was because he was frequently sparring with Nathan, and due to that, fighting with anyone else seemed easy. Every time he improved and thought he had taken one step closer; Nathan was still ten steps ahead.
Sometimes, the other boys asked him if he never felt frustrated about it, but Ramsey had never felt any frustration. He loved his cousin who was like a big brother to him. For as long as he could remember, he had looked up to Nathan. They had always been close, since they were much younger. Every time that Nathan found a new interest, or some new friends, Ramsey always thought that it would be the time when his cousin would finally leave him behind and stop being so close to him given the age gap between them. Each time however, he was always wrong as Nathan did not fail to carry him along.
Even now as he felt like prey in front of his cousin, his heart was pounding with excitement and there was a huge grin on his face. The bead of sweat on his brow finally dropped and Ramsey blinked to protect his eyes. That split second was all it took as before he knew what was happening, he had been swept off his feet, his weapon appropriated, and he now had the tips of two blunted swords at his neck. Exhausted, he flopped down on the ground with a groan and shut his eyes against the sun.
He heard his cousin chuckle victoriously before the clang of the swords hitting the ground, and his cousin lay down next to him. His arms were aching quite a bit, but he was pleased with the sensation. It meant that he would soon be big and strong like his father General Alastair Bain and his Uncle Laird William Mackenzie, his aunt’s husband.
Nathan was only nineteen years old, and he was already half as big as his father. Ramsey could not see any men possibly bigger than the ones in his family. As they grew older, they seemed to get more massive, it was beyond his comprehension. However, he knew why when he watched his father and uncle spar. It was always like a dream. Even Nathan, with how skilled he was, had not won against his father or uncle even once, but he continued to train and try anyway. Ramsey wondered if his cousin felt the same way he did fighting them that Ramsey felt when he fought him. He could not even imagine sparring seriously with his father yet. He was still too green.
“Ye boys are always like this, ye always lie around on the ground after yer spar. Dae ye want to be a rug that badly?” a feminine voice above him said. That voice was no one else other than Ramsey’s twin sister Marie. He opened his eyes to find that she was blocking the sun with her head. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes again with a serene expression.
“Ah, ye are quite the perfect shade, sister, finally we found something that ye are great at for once,” he teased.
He had known the price of that joke when he made it, but he did it anyway. When she stepped on his belly in retaliation, it was expected, but that did not mean it hurt any less. He screamed and Nathan guffawed beside him. Marie was good at a great number of things, but she also lost interest easily.
His sister was a very strong woman, so she had started their sword lessons together with her, however she had lost interest in it a few years ago after reaching average standards of proficiency. After that, she had begun learning how to shoot a bow but stopped that as well.
Their father had said that there was nothing wrong with her trying different things to find what she was great at. His inside joke had been about her finally finding something she perfected as the jack of all trades she was.
“Marie, dae nae kill yer brother over there, he is the only one ye have got,” the voice that saved him finally came. It was their father speaking, and so Marie left him alone. He could hear Ivie and the youngest of them, Ellie his ten-year-old cousin giggling as they approached them. Ellie was blonde like her father as well, but her eyes were brown like her mother’s instead of blue. Ellie and Ivie who were only two years apart in age were joined at the hip and inseparable.
The two younger girls in their household were not as vivacious as Marie, liking the simpler things like baking together and making dresses. The two of them had been drawing up clothes for women with skirts that did not fall to the ankle. They modeled those dresses after their mothers who had both become famous in the clan for ripping their dresses in times of danger, and valiantly facing the enemy. The girls kept their drawings a secret however as their mothers were both severely embarrassed by those tales, covering their faces in shame each time someone brought it up.
Their mothers claimed that the stories the people told were too greatly exaggerated, but when they told the stories themselves, it was not any less heroic. Naturally, the girls all looked up to their mothers although they expressed it in different ways. Ellie threw herself at her brother who as usual was quick to catch her, getting to his feet so that he could lift her above his head, and spinning in a circle.
“Oh, me precious sister… ye look absolutely beautiful today!” Nathan said, in his accent which remained partially French even after spending eleven years in the Highlands with all of them. His partial accent was not a problem however, along with his voice, it made all the young women they met seemingly melt in front of him as they held on to his every word. It had no effect on the women in their family though, although his existence was enough to make them giddy instead.
Ivie stretched her hand out and dabbed at Ramsey’s face, getting his attention as she wiped his sweat, before plopping down to hug him. He laughed at his sister’s antics and hugged her back.
“Oh, Nathan is right! Ivie, ye two look wonderful,” he said as well. The girls were all dressed up in their prettiest clothes as today was the day a painter was coming to paint their family portrait. He would need to leave with Nathan very soon to bathe and put on their own formal clothes.
A throat clearing to the side made them all turn their head to Marie, who looked every bit like one of the gorgeous fee from the folklores. Her auburn hair was held up in an elaborate style by several pins and expensive brooches, and her dress was a yellow that made her brown eyes stand out.
“Ye look wonderful, Marie,” he complimented, not even bothering to tease her. Nathan complimented her effusively as well and the girls ran up to her, admiring her dress. Satisfied with their compliments, she raised her nose in the air playfully.
Their fathers had been watching everything from where they sat together on the chairs that had been brought out of the house and placed on the hill for the purpose of their family portrait. They had all left the castle the night before as their parents decided that they wanted the first family portrait to be taken at their family home in the village his father and aunt had come from.
Both men were already dressed in their finest kilts and coats with their beards trimmed, only waiting for their wives to be ready. Ramsey realized it at seemingly the same time as Nathan. Everyone was already dressed and ready, except for them. Once their mothers came out of that house, they would be the only ones not ready. The two exchanged glances, before taking off running towards the house in a bid to get into the bathhouse before their mothers came out.
….
Devona stepped out of the house and unto the grass, holding hands with Jane as the both of them helped each other to stay balanced in their fancy shoes as they walked on the grass towards the picture position where their husbands were sitting in the chairs meant for them. Spotting them approaching, both men got to their feet swiftly and offered the chairs up with gentlemanly bows.
Devona smiled at her husband William who as far as she was concerned, had only gotten even more handsome with age. Following Alastair’s choice, he had also begun to keep a beard after their second child Ellie was born. It suited him perfectly, and he always laughed saying that his father had kept a beard throughout the time he knew him, so of course a beard would suit him too. Both him and her brother continued to grow stronger in their old age as they stayed fit both to polish up their skills and to make sure that their insanely talented sons did not surpass them too soon.
To the boys, their fathers were probably the strongest men that they knew, but they did not see them after every spar complaining to their wives about how they were getting too old for this and making exaggerations about their creaking bones. She chuckled as she thought of it before searching with her eyes for their sons in question and finding them nowhere. Seeing Marie and the girls waddling suspiciously with something behind their backs that they refused to walk straight so as not to let her see, she could already figure out what was happening. She turned narrowed eyes to William and her brother, Jane doing the same thing.
“They are nae ready, are they? The lads,” Devona said. William scratched his jaw guiltily and Alastair just laughed nervously. She exchanged a glance with Jane who wore an unimpressed expression similar to hers. They had known it would be like this. The boys had taken up their swords for what they claimed would be a light spar, so she had asked William to make sure that it would indeed be a light spar since she knew that the boys had a tendency to get carried away when their fathers were watching them spar.
From the way both men were avoiding their judgmental gazes, they had no doubt forgotten to tell the boys when it was enough and instead been carried away themselves while they accessed the boys fighting. She clicked her tongue at them before Jane finally let the cat out of the bag.
“We knew that something like this would happen, that is why we did not give you all the correct time for when the painter will arrive,” her sister-in-law said. William and Alastair’s jaws dropped open and they both gave them dramatic expressions of betrayal. The girls who had approached them after getting rid of the swords which were evidence of their brothers being late, also let out exclamations in protest.
She lifted her nose as she brushed a plum against her lips to deepen its color before popping the piece of fruit in her mouth.
“Now, they will be on time after all, so this was the perfect way to deal with ye all,” she said.
Marie began to whine about wearing her dress for too long and how she should have been allowed to dress up at this time as well so that she would not sweat in her dress. Jane only gave her an unimpressed snort. They all knew that Marie just wanted to play around until the very last minute like the boys had.
With her family around her, Devona could not help but smile to herself. On this day eleven years ago, she had been on this very hill, coming to visit her parents after returning to the clan. She had been lost and unsure of herself back then as she met with her brother again, not confident in thinking that she deserved any love since she had been gone for so long and returned suddenly.
Looking at Jane talking animated with Marie, she remembered how she had been worried that her brother’s wife would not like her since she was an extra responsibility who had appeared and even brought a child with her.
Looking at William bending over to let Ellie whisper something in his ear, she remembered how shocked she had been when she was told that William was going to let her stay in his castle despite the way she had broken his heart by leaving without saying a word to him nineteen years ago.
She felt it was crazy when she thought about it, that her nineteen-year-old son, who was already one of the most sought-after young men in the Highlands, had grown up from the tiny baby she had wrapped in her cloak, sitting on the streets of Paris, and thinking that she would have to give him away to an orphanage when starvation threatened to take her life.
She had been through so many highs and lows of life that it brought a tear to her eye when she thought about it while looking at where she was now. She raised her face and blinked several times to keep the tears that had formed from coming out.
This was no time to cry, she needed to look perfect for the family portrait. She got the perfect distraction right at that moment as the doors to the house burst open and Ramsey and Nathan came running out, nearly tripping over each other as they approached. She pursed her lip with dissatisfaction as she noted Nathan’s wrongly buttoned shirt and his coat which was on the rumpled, but was at least on the right way unlike Ramsey’s which was on backwards.
The girls burst into a fit of giggles at the chaotic sight and William and Alastair turned away when their chuckles were met with judgmental stares from their wives.
“Ahem, I should probably help him with his coat,” Alastair said sheepishly, clearing his throat and adjusting his collar.
“Stop runnin’, ye fools, we gave ye the wrong time because we ken that ye would have been late like this if we told ye the actual time,” she called out to them. Much like their fathers the two boys stopped in their tracks and gave her an open-mouthed stare of betrayal causing her to roll her eyes.
“Oh, come off it, get over here so that yer faithers can help ye put yer clothes in order, ye look like a mess,”she said.
The boys scratched their heads sheepishly and took off their coats beginning to arrange their clothes properly on their own even as their fathers approached to help them. After a few moments, they looked every bit the respectable young men, nothing even hinting at their previous looks of disarray.
Nathan’s long hair was combed and smoothed back so that his locks were held behind his ears and Alastair had righted Ramsey’s jacket. Devona’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of her son. Nathan who was fully aware of this effect sidled up to her, leaning down to give her a hug and placing his head on her shoulder like he did when he was younger.
“Ye look beautiful, Mother,” he said in his mixed-up accent.
She wondered who he was learning such tricks from, as she knew he was only trying to avoid the scolding and ear-pulling that Ramsey was now getting.
Devona squeezed her son’s cheeks instead, pulling until his face looked like stretched out dough and his sounds of protest were warped as his lips were spread.
“Nice try there, very nice try. Ye really think that ye can escape me wrath, dae ye nae?” she said. Only after ample cheek squeezing time, did she finally let him go and he rubbed his reddened cheeks with fake sobs.
“I was nae lying though, Mother, ye truly dae look beautiful,”he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead even as he still massaged his stinging cheeks. She clutched at her chest, no longer able to resist his sweetness and forgiving him immediately.
She had just released him from the bone-crushing hug she had pulled him into when the painter arrived. As they all gathered to pose for the painting, Devona knew that they would be perfect like this forever, just like a picture in a painting, preserved for all time.
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How to Bewitch a Highlander (Preview)
Chapter 1
William Mackenzie pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly, his eyes shut in frustration. He already had a headache and the day had just barely begun. The second and third elders had hijacked the meeting that morning and now instead of reviewing the recovery rate of the villages which had been ravaged by a war with the neighboring clan three years ago, they were berating him over trivial matters.
The war had been a short one, incited by a betrayal which had rocked the clan, but it had been ended thanks to the efforts of those closest to him. It had been his main focus since then to rehabilitate the villages affected as well as make sure nothing like that could happen again. He had succeeded in making his lands more secure, but it was not easy to take care of victims of war. Most men in those villages had died and the women and children left were scarred. It was not about just feeding and clothing and sheltering those survivors, it was about getting those villages to run autonomously again.
To him it was more important to hear the latest news on how those villages were doing, but the elders were more concerned about the fact that he was now twenty-nine-years-old and had yet to find a wife and produce an heir. He was only one year away from officially becoming an old bachelor, they lamented. Anymore, and he would end up being ten years older than the women of marriageable age. Then it would be even harder to find a bride as they would wonder if something was wrong with him. It was a different thing if he were to be single at that age after being married once, but no one had ever seen him with a woman before.
In fact, the closest he had ever been to being married was an engagement which was cancelled before it was even publicly announced. The woman in question was now the wife of his best friend and General: Alastair Bain. She maintained a platonic relationship with him as he had never been romantically interested in her at all and was content being considered an uncle to her children. Since then, William had not even entertained the thought of another engagement. The only reason he had accepted the one with Jane at first was because the council had pressured him with the overwhelming opportunities marrying her would bring the clan. Due to that, he was willing to overlook his broken heart and enter a marriage solely for convenience. Since it did not work, he had lost interest.
Perhaps, it was due to their recent complaints that he had dreamt of that old memory which he tried to bury… the last night he spent with the love of his life seven years ago. A painful memory which he had done his best to bury for the sake of his own sanity. If he was being honest, he had woken up with a headache solely because of that. The continued talks of his marriage only served to make his head pound harder. He wondered if they thought he had not tried to find a woman to love. He had tried, and failed, thus giving up.
“Who would believe that despite choosin’ yer subordinate over ye, and cancelin’ yer engagement, the Englishwoman lives in this castle along with her children sired for another man?” the third elder, Filian Greshen, a rotund old man with a quivering mustache said. William was aware that they had been stewing over this fact for quite a while, but this was the first time any of them had said so out loud. The resounding response was deafening as all the elders agreed, having wanted to mention it themselves. They could only be like this now because Alastair was not there. William held back a groan.
If I had ken this would happen, I would nae have allowed Alastair to visit his cabin this week.
“Indeed, it would baffle anyone who heard it. How many men would allow it? If only for their broken pride they would want the woman and her chosen man far away from their sights usin’ one excuse or the other. Our Laird however does nae even consider such things. Of course, we are grateful for the dedication to the people and the overwhelmin’ care for the clan, but those things are nae all, me Laird. The Laird is too straightforward, and this makes him bad for politics as well. That is why until now only Cargill and Balfour are our allied clans and the rest can nae reach an agreement with us,” the second elder, Angus Lewis, added in complaint.
“Enough,” William said before they could go too far. “Have ye forgotten that the woman ye speak of is the wife of General Bain? Dae I need to remind ye of her contributions to the war three years ago?”
At his words, they grumbled, but could not say anything as the defeat of the enemy was largely due to Jane and her father John Baxendale who had brought the English soldiers under his command to help subdue the enemy. Jane herself had been pivotal to their success as despite being a woman, she had helped him kill the traitor as well as personally killed an escaping enemy to stop him from alerting the main army of their attack plan.
“While I dae nae particularly agree with everythin’ the second and third elder have said, I dae agree that ye must wed, me Laird,” the first elder said, speaking up for the first time since the meeting began. Immediately, all heads turned to him. Robert Mackenzie was the first elder and William’s uncle, making him the most important elder whose words were listened to.
“I ken that ye are nae interested in havin’ a political marriage, but the clan can nae be left without an heir. This is a duty the Laird must fulfill, so ye can nae continue to avoid it as this is detrimental to yer. In the worst-case scenario, ye would have to give up the Lairdship to me son, Lachlan as he is next in line after ye. Yer cousin is married, and his wife is with their third child. I urge ye to choose a bride before the year ends in order to avoid this council taking such extreme measures. I am sure the rest of the elders agree,” Robert said.
The elders murmured to each other, and, while they all were careful with their words unlike his uncle, they largely agreed with what he had said. Robert Mackenzie was a stern man. William knew him well enough that he was sure his uncle could never have any bad thoughts towards him, but the fact that his uncle meant well did not mean he was not stern. He was the only one who would bring up an ultimatum for William without fear as long as he believed it was something the clan needed. His cousin Lachlan on the other hand, he was not so sure about since they were not close. Lachlan had left the Highlands for a while, returning with his wife and had been staying in his father’s household since. William had not seen him in years. He could not confidently say whether or not his cousin would be a good Laird. He wondered if his cousin actually held such ambitions or if it was only something his uncle had come up with out of necessity.
In truth, if he was ever forced to bequeath his position to someone else, William would choose to give it to Alastair and his family. They were the closest to him and he could vouch for Alastair’s qualities as a good leader. His friend was his right-hand man, after all. He also loved his friend’s children as though they were his own. He trusted that they would be raised well enough to continue the Lairdship without issue.
“Rather than Lachlan who we have nae seen in so long, I believe the best person to be Laird after me would be General Bain,” he said, voicing his thoughts despite knowing that the council would be in uproar.
He winced slightly as they all yelled their objection in unison, nearly deafening him. His uncle who should have been the most offended was the only one who did not react, continuing to regard him with a serious expression that did not waver.
“Dae nae speak so lightly of giving the Lairdship to another bloodline, me Laird. Ye are a bit older than most, but there are nae many who rival ye when it comes to looks. If ye put in a bit of effort, even the younger ladies willnae let ye go,” his uncle said.
The particular choice of words made him frown deeply. He had been promised that he would never be let go of before. He knew very well how that ended. Suddenly annoyed, he brushed his hand over his face to keep his composure. His headache was already at horrible levels, it was best to let the topic go before it went any further.
To others it might seem a bit strange for him to be considering leaving his position just because he did not want to marry for the sake of an heir. However, marriage and love were important to him. In the first place, his father had been the same. His father who loved his mother dearly, lived without a wife for the rest of his life after William’s mother died giving birth to him. One of the things that his father had hammered into him was how important it was to marry for love and have a family full of love. His father believed that what made a true man was his ability to be gentle towards those he loved and terrifying to his enemies. A man was a failure if his family feared him.
“I will consider the thought of marriage again, elders,” he said, compromising for the sake of the meting finally moving on to more important topics. He would have to discuss this headache with Alastair once his friend returned.
….
Devona Bain made her way to through the grassy plains with nostalgia tugging at her heart. The spread of endless green that seemed to kiss the mountains on the horizon and the smell of the freshwater creek that she knew was nearby even without seeing it. It had been seven years since she had last seen the Highland plains… it was reason enough to be emotional. She had crossed the sea twice and survived, yet there was nothing more marvelous to her than being back on her home soil. As the warm breeze blew past her, ruffling her hair, she smiled wistfully. He had been right after all… she missed her home.
A year ago, Devona had become a widow as far as the public knew. Having lived with her ex-husband for so long, managing his estate and being his greatest companion in his old age, Devona was shocked when Pierre Louis confessed to the fact that his household was ruined and said that his final wish was that she run away before she was indicted for being his wife and that she returned to her motherland. He had broken the news to her in tears as she sat by his bed, with the mansion loud with silence in the absence of all the workers who had already abandoned them, taking what they could get their hands on from the mansion to sell. As they had not received their wages in a while, they were vengeful, and if it were possible, they would have stolen the walls of the building as well.
Despite the fact that she was suddenly put in a precarious position where she needed to tuck tail and escape the country, she could not help but weep from the bottom of her heart for Pierre. While to the public he was her husband, to her he was a second father. He had taken her in at the worst point in her life and given her everything, taking nothing in return. She had thought that perhaps he wanted a young woman to warm his bed in the last years of his life, but that was not the case at all. Pierre was just lonely, as he had lost his family long ago. Devona had been the last companion of his life.
He had surprised her with the news that Paris could no longer be her home, as he had invested in some shady business and ended up scammed. He thought that he would be able to handle the aftermath and did not tell her in case she worried, but death came for him too soon.
It was only when she felt tears on her cheek that she realized she had been crying. It was so typical of Pierre to think of her even when he was on his last breath. Instead of lamenting how he lost everything he had built all his life, he was advising her to take the last valuable thing she could find in his mansion and sell it to enable her escape before those he lent money from could catch her.
I know that if I do not say anything, you would continue to live here and take responsibility for all I leave behind. However, I cannot let you do that… You are still young with so much of your life to live… do not let yourself be tied down by a false sense of responsibility. I love you too much to say nothing, I believe you should return to your home. I see how you stare into the distance when you think no one is watching, and I see the tears you hide, proof that nothing I could give you would replace what you long for. That is why my dear Devona, my last wish is that you return home and find what you lost.
Devona wiped her cheek and laughed softly into the wind. After Pierre passed, she had run away after selling all they had left to pay their way onto the ship leaving for England and enough for the wagon bringing them to the Highlands. If it were not for the circumstances, she would have never been able to bring herself to return. She had left with the mind to never return, not even allowing herself to admit how much she missed what she had abandoned. Now here she was, her emotions a mess just because of a little breeze. She had arrived in the clan few days ago, but it had taken her exactly that long to muster up the courage to venture to her parent’s grave as it was too close to everything she had run away from.
She had busied herself with other thing as excuse for why she could not visit yet. She had returned exactly the way she had left, with just enough coin left to find lodging for the time being. With all of her excuses gone, she had finally made her way here… to the plains where her brother had buried their parents, on a hill just overlooking the village they had lived before disaster had met them in the face of war.
From what she could see, the village was doing much better than it had been when she left. Seven years was not a joke after all. She had thought the village would never recover, but it brought her joy to see how it had almost completely healed. She reached her parent’s gravestones and knelt, dropping the flower she had brought between them. The graves were better kept than she had expected… it seemed Alastair did not neglect them. Then again, it was not like him to do so. He had dug their father’s with the shaky arms of an adolescent boy, determined to not leave his father’s body to rot out in the open even as they tried to escape enemy soldiers under the cover of night. Only a few years later he had dug their mother’s place beside it with stronger arms and a stronger heat, wanting her resting place to be beside the man she loved.
She lowered her head in respect to greet her parents wistfully. Neither had lived long enough to see her become a woman, but she was sure they would never have expected she would leave home as she did.
“Maither, Faither, yer unworthy daughter has returned.” After leaving without any plans to return, she had not expected that her parents would forgive her wherever they were… so the first thing she did was apologize and make amends now that she had. It was the first step for her truly being home. She had just mustered the courage to meet the dead, now all she had to do was be brave enough to see the living.
She had just been thinking this when a shout from behind startled her and caused her to jump, as much from shock as guilt.
“Devona?!” The voice was different now… it sounded older and more mature… but Devona would recognize that voice anywhere… it was her brother. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest as she tried to decide between turning around and running away. She was not sure she was ready to meet him yet. Would he forgive her? She could still see the pain in his expression as she mercilessly said goodbye, telling him she would never return.
“Why? Why Devona, what is pushin’ ye to dae this? Ye are the only family I have left, are ye goin’ to leave me all alone?”
Her response back then was that she was too heartbroken to stay. He had looked at her as though he could not believe that she was abandoning him for something as selfish as that. In the seven years she was gone, she always wondered if he would forgive her. Now, she was about to find out, regardless of if she was ready or not. It was funny how fate worked. She put off visiting her parents because she was not ready, and it ended up causing her to meet her brother regardless of if she was ready or not. Still, this was better than meeting him.
“Devona… it is ye, is it nae?” the voice asked again, quieter now as he was right behind her. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him, a pained smile on her face.
“Aye brother… I have returned,” she said. Tears stung the corner of her eyes as she waited apprehensively for his response, but it was all for nothing as immediately she confirmed it, Alastair pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly even as she broke down in tears. Oh, she had missed him so. More than she thought she had, in fact.
“Devona… I can nae believe it… ye have truly returned… I thought I would never see ye again,” he said tearfully, his voice choked with emotion, letting her know just how much he had missed her and how happy he was at her return.
His arms were familiar yet foreign at the same time… when had he gotten so big? He was like a bear now, with years of training and adulthood resulting in thick muscles. Also, was that a beard? He was nothing like the young man she knew when she left… he looked so similar to their father that she almost gasped. Seeing Alastair, she could not help but wonder what he looked like…
Movement caught her eye from behind her brother, and she pulled away from him to look. A beautiful, auburn-haired woman stood behind them, watching with curious green eyes. In her arms, she held a child that was the spitting image of her despite having Alastair’s brown hair, and on either side of her skirts stood twins who looked like her brother had duplicated himself to produce them apart from the fact that the girl had the woman’s hair. That was… her brother’s family.
Tears welled up in her eyes again involuntarily as all four people stared at her with the curiosity of meeting a stranger. How much had she missed? She had missed everything. Seeing where she was looking, Alastair moved to introduce them. He put his arm around the woman and lifted one of the twins.
“This is me wife, Jane, and me children, Ramsey and Marie, and the baby, Ivie,” he said, every bit the proud family man. “And this is me sister, Devona,” he said, introducing her.
His wife seemed friendly as she smiled and leaned in for a hug which Devona awkwardly received, feeling shy.
“It is great to meet you, sister-in-law. Alastair’s told me all about you,” his wife said.
Devona was surprised to hear an English accent from her. After watching their father be killed by English soldiers, her brother had developed a grudging distaste for the English, but now he had married one. She was surprised enough by this that she missed the timing to respond naturally to Jane’s greeting. Realizing a second too late that her surprised silence had come off as rude, she scrambled to respond.
“Ah, I am so sorry, it is great to meet ye as well,” she spluttered, her face reddening slightly. It was so awkward, she wished she had come another day. She felt so strange, like she had been inserted somewhere she did not fit. It was only seven years, how had things changed so much? Would he have changed too? He was probably married by now with other children from another woman. She did not come back with the hopes to rekindle what they had, but she still wanted to see him again.
Where has the unbreakable Madame Devona Louis, who could stare down a group of rowdy soldiers until they were forced to regain some semblance of orderliness, gone? Where is the bravery that allowed her to ride the vast seas twice, not worrying for the terrible storms and whims of the waves? Her brother and his family were by no means as daunting as the things she had faced before, so why was her tongue heavy and her head bowed?
She was not someone who was awkward and jittery like this, it seemed she was more affected by her return than she had thought. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she took a step back and allowed herself to be more natural.
“I am sorry… I am quite overwhelmed by how much me brother has changed and meetin’ his family, so I was nae able to greet ye properly. It truly is nice to meet ye, sister-in-law,” she said, much more smoothly this time.
Jane gave her an understanding smile.
“That is quite alright,” she said, before nodding the twins who stared at her with curious brown eyes towards her. “Ramsey, Marie, meet your aunt.”
Taking the cue, Devona squatted down to the children’s height and gave them her friendliest smile.
“It is good to meet ye! I am yer Aunt Devona,” she said. The twins waved at her from beside their mother.
“I am Ramsey…” the boy said.
His sister joined in with, “I am Marie.”
Then they chorused, “Good to meet ye, Aunt Devona.”
The two were so adorable that Devona felt her heart squeeze. She reached out her arms and they came over to her, their curiosity not hidden in their gazes.
She was still playing with the adorable children when Alastair put a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Ye should come with us Devona… where are ye stayin’? Me family and I live in the castle even ‘til now, ye should come back with me, it will be just like old times. Although, much has changed, I am the General now.” Her brother prattled on, not noticing at all that her expression had darkened since her back was to him. She forced a smile before she turned to face him, swallowing with some difficulty.
“Ah, that’s wonderful brother… I am so proud of ye… however could ye give me some time? I… I am nae ready yet to make an appearance in the clan. Perhaps a day… or two…?” she asked, hoping her voice did not come off too shaky. Alastair seemed confused and as though he wanted to say something more but his wife’s hand on his arm stopped him. Of course, he would be confused, he was probably wondering just what would make it so difficult to return with him immediately.
Devona looked away from her brother and turned her eyes to the horizon… Perhaps she was too hasty in her joy to be back home… it was more complicated than simply missing the plains.
Chapter 2
William left the meeting room feeling drained, but at least with his successful aversion of the topic to other matters, his headache has reduced to a manageable level. He reminded himself to see the castle healer for some soothing medicine later, he had indeed been working quite hard recently especially since Alastair who was like his right hand had taken some time off. He had a lot more to do by himself for the time being and he was not one to wait ‘til Alastair returned to get work done. The elders’ new fixation with his marriage however was the true reason for his stress.
Just when he thought that he had fully escaped, he saw his uncle waiting for him in the hallway to his study. He held back a groan and forced himself to continue walking towards him.
“Uncle,” he said in both acknowledgment and greeting. The older man pushed himself off the wall and joined him in walking.
“Ye dae nae look well… it seems ye have nae been sleepin’ properly. Dae ye nae think ye are headed in the wrong direction? I think ye should be headin’ to yer bedroom to get rid of those dark circles around yer eyes,” Robert Mackenzie said.
William scoffed lightly. “I believe ye should ken quite well the source of me stress uncle, perhaps I would nae look so tired if certain troublesome topics were avoided,” he quipped, trying to spare the old man the bite in his voice but failing rather miserably. His uncle only laughed regardless.
“Ye ken that I only dae everythin’ for yer good dear nephew, scoff as ye may, ye can nae deny that I and the elders are right,” he said. William let out an intelligible grumble but could not disagree. His uncle smiled, then as though remembering something important, snapped his fingers.
“Ah, and that nonsense ye did earlier… makin’ careless statements about the passin’ of the Lairdship. Dae nae dae that again. We are still undergoin’ the aftermath of a war with a usurper, dae ye nae care that yer careless words could light another flame?” Robert added, sounding truly upset with him this time.
William could not disagree and so he stayed quiet. Although he could bet on his life that Alastair would never try to betray him, he could not say the same about everyone on the council as one of them could get nasty ideas such as if Alastair could become Laird, they would rather do it themselves. Even when he said it, he knew that it was not the best idea, but in his frustration he had wanted to rattle them somewhat.
“Aye… I willnae speak carelessly again, although I did mean it,” he said, causing his uncle to glare at him. He avoided the old man’s gaze, causing him to sigh as though he gave up. He put a hand on William’s shoulder in a fatherly manner.
“Ye need to man up and dae what is necessary for the clan me nephew. I dae nae want to challenge yer authority but ye ken me duty is to dae what is best for the clan. It should be the same for ye as well. I ken ye can dae it,” his uncle said encouragingly then added as he walked away, “I truly think ye should take a break by the way. Get some rest, ye won’t be findin’ a bride lookin’ like ye carry the weight of the world on yer shoulders.”
William stopped in the middle of the hallway with his face raised to the ceiling. With the conversation, his previously waning headache was returning with a vengeance. His uncle was right about one thing, he needed a break. Changing his mind, he decided not to return to his study after all, instead heading down to the stables to find his horse and take some time off hunting to clear his head.
As he prepared his bow and arrow, he could not help but feel the phantom ache in his knee where he had been shot with an arrow during the previous war. He was fine, but there were days when he still felt the pain such as rainy days or during winter, and whenever he picked up his bow it came back to him as though the memory was what sparked the pain. He sighed, putting the bow in its place along with his arrows. If Alastair were around, he would have followed him simply because he did not think he should make a habit of going long distances and on potentially dangerous expeditions alone. Regardless of Alastair’s warning ringing in his head, there was no one else he trusted as much as Alastair who he would want to accompany him while he was looking for reprise.
The guards bowed as he passed by them at the gate, and he nodded at them in acknowledgment before riding off. The act of riding alone, with the wind in his hair as he pushed his trusty horse Noir to faster speeds, was already calming him down. His blond locks fluttered in and out of his vision and he made a mental note to trim it as it was beginning to get too long. He also had not shaved his face so he had a somewhat scruffy shadow of a beard. It made him look older somewhat. He had not been paying attention to his appearance recently, so his uncle was most likely right, with how stressed he was looking and the beard that accentuated his age, the young ladies would be hesitant to entertain any advances he might try to offer.
He had unconsciously given up after his failed engagement, so it was not as though he cared, but it seemed he should have put a bit more thought into it. From the meeting, it was clear that the Elders were ready to replace him without much ado. He wondered if he should begin preparing for the eventuality that he would no longer be the Laird. If his uncle and the other Elders chose to fulfill their ultimatum, would he fight?
Lachlan… How would he do as a Laird?
There was no real way for William to judge since he did not know his cousin, so he decided that he would try to make time and get to know him again since it had been so long. Since he returned, they had not spoken once save for the formal greeting Lachlan gave him when he came back. Although he would want Alastair to take over from him if it came to it, he had to be realistic. Although his uncle was not against him, if he brought Alastair as his replacement carelessly, his uncle would fight him. He would do it if only just to unify the elders against a common goal and prevent the council from breaking up into factions and an internal struggle for power.
In truth, with the way things were, he was more likely to cave and do as they wished, finding a woman who could give him an heir even if he divorced her afterwards. He would make a contract marriage if it came down to it. Since he could not do that to a young woman, he would probably need to ask his uncle to limit the bride search to widows instead. All she needed was to be able to bear his child. They could go their separate ways after that, and she would be properly compensated. He did not find the idea appealing in any way whatsoever since he was of the opinion that marriage was sacred and should be bound by love. However, since he was pushed to the wall, it did not seem like he had much of a choice.
He sighed as he entered the forest. The breeze was gentler as it swayed the branches of the trees high above his head. He tied Noir to a tree and continued on foot, nimbly picking through the forest in search of prey. He found one pretty quickly in a buck, which spotted him the exact same time as he spotted him. It reacted instantly, bouncing off and escaping him. William took off after it with his heart pounding in excitement.
Despite how popular hunting was as a sport, it was not always William’s favorite past time, there was a time when he had preferred to study, finding books and knowledge fascinating. As he chased down the deer with his arrow nocked, he could not stop his heart from pounding with the thrill of the chase. He had taken to hunting because of how it revolved around capturing his target. More than the popular reason of the kill or the pride from taking down a difficult animal, for him it was the small gratification that came from catching what was running from him.
He had already lost what he truly wanted to keep however, so it was fleeting gratification. The deer was fast, not to mention smart. Somehow, it had managed to escape him. A breaking twig from the bushes up ahead caught his attention.
Heh, perhaps the deer is not so smart after all.
He shot his arrow with lightning fast, although with the intention to startle. However instead of a spritely deer What came from the bushes was a woman’s terrified scream.
Completely thrown off, William froze for a second before jumping into action, separating the bush as he lurched forwards. He found his arrow thankfully stuck in the ground and not in the body of the woman who seemed to have fallen over from shock and was now sitting with her arms over her head. The arrow was dangerously close to her however, having pierced through the hem of her dress and burying into the ground. William felt guilt bubble up in his chest. He pulled the arrow out and put it back in his quiver.
“I am so sorry, are ye alright?” he asked, noting from her basket that she was picking berries and mushrooms. He cocked his head to the side, wondering if there were any women from the nearby villages and castle town who would come so deep into the forest to gather. He was still thinking this when she lifted her face to look at him, her expression full of shock. In a matter of seconds, William was mirroring her expression. He took a hesitant step forward, wondering if he was seeing an apparition because there was no way his first and only love who had vanished all those years ago was sitting on the ground in front of him.
“Devona… Devona, is that ye?” he asked, his voice shaky with disbelief followed by a horde of other emotions. She flinched in response, looking just as choked up with emotions as he was, except shame was riding her own horde.
“William…” she croaked quietly as she found her way to her feet on shaky knees. William’s vision blurred for a moment with tears, but he blinked them away quickly because he was scared that if he lost sight of her, she would disappear with the wind. Was she real? He needed to find out. He reached out and his fingers did not grasp air. Her arm was firm in his touch, proof that she was there… still this was not enough.
Spurred on by his emotions, he jerked her forwards into an embrace and covered her lips with his, kissing her like his life depended on it, to prove that he was not dreaming. She responded to his kiss, the years melting between them as he entwined his fingers with hers and buried his other hand in her hair. The pain, loneliness, anger, and love that refused to die poured out from them into their kiss, making it desperate, bittersweet. Tears streamed down both their faces as their tongues continued to search each other’s mouths, as though trying to remember all they had forgotten.
Finally, they broke their kiss, breathing heavily with tears marking their faces as they stood, foreheads pressed together. William did not know if he was happy or angry… a plethora of questions were fighting to come out of his mouth, but they were too many for him to choose from. Instead, the one question that encompassed everything came out first.
“Why…?” he asked. It meant a lot of things… Why did you leave me? Why for so long? Why did you break my heart? Why have you just returned? Even though he had only said one word it felt as though she understood all that he meant to ask as he stared into her sad brown eyes with his blue ones. He brought both hands to caress her face, kissing her once again, harder this time, his anger and frustration pouring through as he bit her lip before breaking their kiss again. She did not resist or complain at all, only staring at him with a depth of regret in her gaze that only roused his frustration the more.
Since she seemed unable to bring herself to answer his question, he asked one that would be simpler.
“Where did ye go?” he asked, his voice a low growl despite himself. She looked away, once again seeming ashamed, but he did not let her off that easily, pulling her gaze back to his again. God, were her lips always so plump or was it because he had bit her? With her face angled upwards with his finger, he could look at her properly. Her brown eyes that always lit a fire inside of him was still the same although they were sadder now. She had aged, but only enough for her girly features to melt into the sharp femininity of a mature woman. Her slender neck was pale, so pale and smooth, he wanted to plant his lips there and mark her.
Once again, she was not resisting, only looking at him exactly the way he was looking at her, accessing, burning into each other’s minds the changes as well as the similarities that remained over the years. His other hand slid up her side and he noted that she was slimmer than she had been the last time he saw her, looking more like an English woman than a Highlander. Was that normal? She did not look unhealthy, but he could tell that she had missed quite a few meals recently unless for some reason she had purposely lost weight. Her dress was well made, but seemed old, older than acceptable as the colors had faded. What had she been doing all this while? Was she alright?
She had still not responded so he tried again. “Well?” he asked.
“I was in France…” she said in a subdued voice. “I have lived there all this time.”
“When did ye return?” he asked next. If she had been on a ship to return, it made sense that she seemed so lean, perhaps she did not have enough to eat on the ship. Voyages were difficult, after all.
“I returned a few days ago,” she confessed and tried to look away again. Of course, he was not having that in the slightest, keeping his hand on her jaw so she was forced to look at him.
“And ye did nae think to find me first?” he asked. This seemed to be her breaking point as she finally resisted him, breaking away from his grasp and lowering her head.
“I am nae the same as back then William… We are nae the same. I couldnae… there was nay way I could just come to ye like that,” she said.
William frowned, what kind of excuse was that? Or was he just seeing it as an excuse because he had been pining for her all those years? She picked up her basket, and he realized with a jolt that she was going to leave again.
“I have to go… it has gotten to late… I have… I have someone to take care of,” she said, turning to leave. William stood there, staring at her back in shock when she turned back to glance at him again.
“I am glad to see that ye have been alright,” she said, and then took off running. William felt his jaw drop in both disbelief and annoyance. Alright, she said? Alright?!
“Bullshit!” he spat, swearing for the first time in a while. What did she think? That he would stand there and watch her leave him again? Well, she certainly had another thing coming!
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Highlander’s Quest of Desire – Get Extended Epilogue
Highlander's Quest of Desire
Highlander’s Quest of Desire – Extended Epilogue
The sun was bright and the spring festival was under way. Dunnottar Castle had been scrubbed clean from top to bottom the past three weeks and every room had been aired to accommodate the guests that would arrive for the festival.
“Ye’ve outdone yerself,” Allie complimented. “This is even better than last year.”
“Hush, Allie,” Elspeth said, suppressing a smile. “Ye’ll upset Judith.”
“Oh, no.” Judith Labert waved her hand. “Allie’s right. I could never do anything as sophisticated as this.” Judith was the wife of Charles Labert. They had met when he had gone on a hunting trip to Ireland, but instead of bagging any deer he had found Judith.
Though she came from humble stock, she was great fun, and livened even boring old Charles up infinitely. Elspeth always enjoyed having her over, especially when she saw Laird Labert interact with his grandsons.
“I tell ya, the old man keeps getting younger and younger each year. It’s the grandkids. He says he can’t bother with death when there’s so much life yet, to live. I’m glad to see you have another one on the way.”
Elspeth gasped and touched her flat tummy. “How did ye ken?” she asked. “I only found out yesterday. I have nae even told Bruce yet.”
“I have a nose for these things,” Judith said, tapping the side of her nose with a finger.
“Oh, Elspeth. Congratulations!” Allie said, and they hugged. “I must say, I’m jealous. Ye become even more bonny when yer with child.”
“Aye,” Judith agreed. “It’s unfair on us who become bridge trolls when we’re carrying.”
Elspeth laughed. “That is nae true. Ye both looked lovely when ye were pregnant.”
“Ye have nae told Bruce yet?” Allie asked.
“Nae. I was hoping to do so after the festival.”
“Ye should nae wait to share glad tidings. Go, find him. Tell him the good news.”
Elspeth but her lip and eyed the buffet table. The candied apples were running low, and they needed to put more roasted meat out. There were so many things to care for, she couldn’t possibly take the time away from hosting duties.
“We’ll handle the buffet table,” Judith assured her. “Go! Find your husband.”
Elspeth hesitated for only a fraction of a second then took up the offer and left to find Bruce. He wasn’t at the tent with the rest of the lairds, nor was he supervising the games on the green. Elspeth wondered if he was inside but could see no reason for him to be.
The years had been kind to them. They had known more happiness than they had sorrow. When Elspeth had fallen with child the first time, Bruce had been over the moon. But their happiness had come crashing down when she had lost the child within the fortnight. Elspeth had believed then that she would never be able to overcome that grief.
But more grief had been written in her destiny. There were days when she feared that she would never be able to give Bruce the heir he craved. A feeling of being incomplete had come between them. They didn’t talk about it, or give words to their fears, but the sense of it was palpable, like a cold corpse between them.
“Emory!” she called. Emory was standing by the archery range with Daniel, and Big Nate. “Have ye seen Bruce?”
“Aye,” Emory said, raising his goblet he pointed to the castle. “I think he’s at the back of the castle. He took some of the kids there.”
“Thank ye,” she said.
Bruce was great with children. Every spring festival, they gathered around him and he enjoyed planning activities to keep them busy. Their parents enjoyed a break and everybody was happy. He was especially well prepared when they hosted the spring festivals. Elspeth knew what they were doing and a memory from their childhood resurfaced.
It had been right here, decades ago, when she had asked if she could fly his kite, and Bruce had handed her the string without question. Little had they known in that moment that he was handing her the strings of his life.
Kites sailed the sky, painting the iridescent blue with reds, greens, and yellows. The Laughter of children provided the music that the wind snatched and carried with it, powering the kites to reach greater heights. In the middle of this cacophony of children, was Bruce Grant, a tall giant grown taller because he had little Jason Labert on his shoulders.
“Is everyone having a good time?” Elspeth asked, touching the shoulder of little Mary. The girl nodded, her golden pigtails bobbing on her shoulders.
“Look at that one, Elspeth,” Bruce said. He set Jason down gently and pulled her closer to him. It still set her legs to trembling when he touched her like that, intimate, and gentle. “That’s higher than I’ve ever managed to go. Good job, Andrew.”
“He’s only going this high because his father taught him to fly a kite since he was in swaddling clothes,” she said, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Ma!” Andrew Grant protested. “Ye’ll make me lose my kite.”
“She’s good at that, son,” Bruce chuckled.
Elspeth nudged him with her elbow, frowning at him, but couldn’t make it last. Her sunny smile returned. It couldn’t stay suppressed. Where God had granted everyone, they knew two children or more in the past twelve years the Grants had been blessed with only one. And he was perfect. At nine, Andrew Grant had his father’s build and coloring, but his mother eyes. He was smart as a whip, and compassionate to a fault. She was extremely proud of him, and he made her smile, even when she didn’t feel like it.
Yes, they really had been blessed with more happiness than grief. Touching her abdomen gently she hoped God would permit her another. The midwife had said she was four months along and that the reason she wasn’t showing was because the baby was resting horizontal on her hips.
Four months. The only child she’d carried to four months and beyond was Andrew. This gave her hope that she’d be able to keep this child.
“Bruce. May I have a word in private?” she asked.
“Of course. Is anything the matter?” he asked. “Is Charles boring the heads off people again? Or do ye need me to take the men out on a hunt to distract them from the ale kegs?”
“Nae,” she laughed. “None of that. I needed to tell ye something. I do nae want ye to get yer hopes up, but since I only just found out I cannae keep it from ye.”
“What is it, my love?” he asked, taking her hands within his. The wind buffeted against them and whipped their hair and clothes, catching at them, trying to grasp their attention, but they were looking at each other and when that happened thew world ceased to exist. “Yer worrying me.”
Elspeth sighed and it all came out in a tumble. “I’m with child.”
Bruce paled. “But… the midwife said… yer too weak. She said ye could nae-”
“I ken. But it’s a miracle, Bruce. I’m four months along.”
It was only then that Bruce allowed himself to be relieved, and somewhat happy. They had been stung so many times with disappointment and sorrow that even good news was taken with a pinch of salt, and lots of prayer.
“And yer certain ye do nae feel poorly?” he asked.
“Nae.” She cupped his cheek in her hand. “I’ve been told I look mighty bonny when I carry yer bairns.”
“Yer always bonny, my Elspeth. To me yer the most beautiful lass on earth. And ye ken that I do nae need for ye to put yer life in danger to give me bairns. I am happy with our Andrew. I am happy with our life.”
“I ken, and I made nae effort to fall pregnant which is why I feel this one will go the whole way.”
“That’s it then.” Bruce clapped his hands decisively. “Yer going to bed, young lass. And yer nae stepping out until I tell ye yer good and ready.”
“Bruce!” Elspeth laughed. “We have guests.”
“Aye, we have guests every three years. They ken all about the castle and where to get what. Last night I caught Domnhall rooting through the linen closet looking for fresh sheets. They are all our family, and they will understand why ye cannae be in attendance. Come, let me be the healer for once.”
Sighing Elspeth allowed herself to be walked back inside the castle. A lay in sounded ideal now that she thought on it. They reached their chambers, and Bruce helped her undress. Once she was in bed, he caressed her abdomen. Lying down they could see it was a little raised. He kissed her belly.
“Ye make me so happy. Ye have been naught but a fount of joy for me, Elspeth.”
“Lay with me a while, Bruce,” she said, extending her arms. “Lay with me until I fall asleep.”
Bruce lay beside her, his arm snaked protectively around her waist. Together, they dreamed a brighter future for them and their family.
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Highlander’s Quest of Desire (Preview)
Chapter 1
Spring snuck up on them suddenly. Trees and bushes preened, adorned with colorful flowers, competing against each other for the title of the season’s beauty. Elspeth and Allie Buchan were grateful for them. They made their job of decorating Blair Castle much easier. They provided the perfect canopy for tea and refreshment tables. Their heady scent was the perfect accompaniment to laughter and romance. Elspeth Buchan wasn’t much concerned with the latter but her brother Domnhall had other ideas.
Elspeth tried her best to ignore Domnhall at breakfast when he hinted at the number of eligible bachelors they expected to host by evening; she had avoided his suggestions of a late summer wedding when they had greeted their guests and shown them to their rooms. But now they were at the feast and he was insisting she dance with one of the Labert lads.
“Charles’s quite handsome,” Domnhall whispered, tipping some roasted potatoes on her plate. “Even though he is a bit dull. Edward is far more interesting, but his breath is unfortunate. Then there’s Daniel. He’s the most promising of the lot if ye ignore the spots on his chin.”
“He’s fifteen!” Elspeth hissed back.
“Aye, so what? Ye can marry a man younger than ye.”
“Ye can marry him if ye fancy him so much.”
“Now, there’s nae need to take that tone,” Domnhall admonished, buttering a roll for her. “I’m just concerned. I want to see ye happily married and settled. Is that so bad?”
“And what about what I want?”
“Is that nae what ye want?” Domnhall looked genuinely perplexed by her statement.
“Nae.”
“I thought that was what all women wanted.” His face fell.
“Yer mistaken,” she said. “While yer thinking of possible matches for me I’m more concerned about the Grant’s nae sending a delegation to the festival.”
“Bruce mentioned the English were keeping a tight noose around his lands. It would have been hard to send people through that. Too much of a risk.”
“There’s little point in these festivals if we donae have all three clans participating. The English have always tried to intimidate the Lairds. Bruce Grant must be forming alliance elsewhere.”
“Is it Bruce Grant ye want to marry?” Domnhall asked, cheering up to the thought.
“Will ye stop with the husband-hunting?” Allie, his wife, hissed. “Ye’ll put her off her food.”
“Is it wrong of me to want her to have what we have?” Domnhall took his wife’s hand and kissed it. “Where would I be without ye? Ye are my North star. I just want Elspeth to get settled.”
“She’ll be fine,” Allie soothed. “And settled does nae mean the same thing for everyone.” She winked at Elspeth.
“What does that mean?” Domnhall asked, looking from his wife to his sister. “Settled means settled; marriage, children, a home.”
“Yer so old fashioned,” Allie rolled her eyes, teasing Domnhall. “Young people now need adventure in their life.”
“We had adventure,” Domnhall murmured, rubbing his thumb along Allie’s knuckles.
“Please, donae remind me,” Allie laughed.
Elspeth took the opportunity to slip away with her plate of food. She nodded and smiled at the people she passed. When she glanced back at the head table before slipping into the main hall Domnhall was busy wooing his wife, and no one had noticed she was missing.
No one except Laird Labert.
The only Laird remaining from the original alliance was smiling at her indulgently. Elspeth flashed him a smile and held a finger to her lips, pleading for his silence. He chuckled, lifted his goblet, and drank a toast to her escape.
Elspeth lifted her favorite tapestry in the hall. It had a small niche behind it where she sat down with her plate of food. Biting into her potatoes she rested her head back against the wall and thought over her brother’s insistence on her marriage. She tried not to put a bitter cast on it. But when it came to her brother she had complex feelings which couldn’t easily be wished away.
Domnhall had never hurt her, but he had been blind to the pain his first wife had caused. He had been mortified to find out the atrocities that woman had committed but Elspeth still found his interest in her well-being jarring and distrustful.
It shamed her to think so. She knew her brother loved her very much and his earnest desire to see her happily married was sincere. But old wounds didn’t heal quickly. She was still that girl afraid of the shadow of Adamina stalking her through these very halls. Elspeth hadn’t forgiven her sister-law. How could she forgive the woman who had made her home a prison of nightmares and horrors? How could she forgive her when Elspeth still felt more comfortable eating behind tapestries than at the head table?
What she needed more than marriage and another unknown prison was the chance to leave Blair Castle on her terms and be of use to some cause or the other. But what? She had no skills; swords and arrows were beyond her. Her riding skills were fair but not exemplary. The only thing she had to offer, other than neat stitches and accurate portraits, was her knowledge of herbs and medicinal plants. She wondered if she could persuade Domnhall to rent her one of the cottages on the estate where she could practice her medicine and be of service to the people.
While she was musing over these unsavory thoughts, a noise in the hall alerted her to people arriving. Who could be arriving so late to the feast?
“Where’s Laird Buchan?” someone said. “I need to speak to him now.”
“He is with Laird Labert at the feast, sir. If ye’ll follow me through here—”
“Nae! I cannae have Labert hearing of this. Tis urgent. Send for Laird Buchan. Tell him Leo Sinclair is here on urgent business. But be discreet, man. No word to Laird Labert.”
This was strange. Leo Sinclair was Laird Grant’s childhood friend. She could recall faintly how Bruce Grant had defended his friend when Elspeth had made mention of his English mother long ago when they were little children. But what was he doing here instead of Laird Grant?
The alliance between Grant, Buchan, and Labert had been strained over the past few years since the death of Andrew Buchan and William Grant. They had kept the spring festival tradition alive but the deep friendships that the fathers had tried to cultivate did not translate into their children. Domnhall did not respect the Labert boys, Bruce thought himself meant for greater glory, the Labert boys were too busy competing among each other to give the alliance much thought. Domnhall had not expected Clan Grant to show up at all. But now Leo Sinclair, a member of Clan Grant was here seeking help without his Laird.
Leo Sinclair’s temerity to arrive late at his feast and then demand a private audience could be taken as a great offense by Domnhall. But Leo Sinclair was not known to indulge in petty power moves.
Elspeth listened intently. She slid gently off the ledge and made sure her shoes were not visible from the tapestry. Pulling the tapestry slowly, she managed to make enough space to see what was going on in the great hall.
Leo Sinclair was pacing up and down the hall, very much alone. He was taller than she’d seen him last. His light brown hair glowed bronze under the candlelight; lines of worry etched across his brow. Something was troubling him greatly and Elspeth wondered again where Laird Grant was.
Domnhall arrived, and much as Elspeth had expected, he was bristling with annoyance at being removed from his feast by an insolent guest.
“Welcome to Blair Atholl, Sinclair,” Domnhall said, taking Leo’s hand in greeting. “Come join us at the feast.”
“Thank ye, but there is nae time,” Leo said, his distress visible on his face, and through his body language. “Ye must help us. They’ve taken Bruce!”
Elspeth nearly lost her footing behind the tapestry.
***
The room was damp. Bruce did not mind that it was dark, rat-infested, with only a small pinprick of a window that let in a sliver of sunlight during the day. It was the damp that got on his nerves. His skin was slick like he was enrobed in a fabric woven of grimy water.
He could no longer recall how long he’d sat in that cell with only his grief to keep him company. Time lost all meaning when the rats tittered in corners like the vile English guards laughing at him.
Bruce knew the English had it out for him. They could sense a current of dissent running through Scotland like never before. Rather than crack down upon the whole of Scotland they planned to imprison a few significant Lairds to send a message to the rest – submit or we will make you. Laird Bruce Grant was as significant as they came.
Dunnottar Castle, his home, had become his prison. He could not leave and give the English the excuse they needed.
But for one man.
News of John McLean, the Bishop of Orkney reached Bruce a month ago. His uncle was dying and wished for nothing but to see Bruce before God called him to his final rest. How could Bruce deny him that? He had left Dunnottar by way of the sea in the pitch black of a moonless night. Only a handful of his most trusted men had known of his departure.
He had raced to Orkney, praying he wasn’t late. When he had finally reached his uncle’s bedside, the man before him was a husk of the memory Bruce held dear in his heart.
“Bruce! The Honours. I have found the Honours!”
Bruce wasn’t sure if his earnest speech was the result of fever-induced delirium or knowing that the end was nigh.
He had patted the Bishop’s burning forehead with soaked cloth but the fever burned through him. It was a fire that consumed him from within.
“Ye must nae tire yourself,” he had soothed. “We can talk of the legends once yer better.”
“Tis nae legend, son,” he had clutched Bruce’s hand. The look of deep earnest in his eyes bellied Bruce’s doubt. “I’ve found them. I traced the map to the ruins on Inchmurrin. The map will lead ye to their resting place.”
“Are ye certain?” Bruce asked, hardly daring to believe it, but when had the Bishop ever lied to him. “Did ye see the map yerself?”
“Aye,” the Bishop had wheezed, sucking air into lungs that were collapsing under the weight of living. “I have seen it with my eyes, I have touched it with my hands, I have cried tears of joy on it.” His excitement took too much from him and he gave into a coughing fit that made his pale skin ashy and highlighted the dark circles under his eyes.
Bruce had rubbed salve onto his chest and marveled at how thin he had become. Bruce had not counted on losing another parent in his life. When his father had died he had been overwhelmed with his new role as Laird and its responsibilities to have had time to grieve properly. His mother’s passing had been a shock in how sudden the smallpox had spread and taken her. He had been tending to the sick tenants and clan members, trying to salvage as many lives as he could to mourn her fully.
But this was different. He could feel the waning heartbeat of the Bishop under his fingertips, he could see the tears and the sheer desperation to be believed in his eyes. And Bruce’s own heartstrings fell to pieces at the sight.
“When was this?” he asked once the Bishop’s breathing had stabilized.
“This past year,” the Bishop said. “I would have come to ye with the map, but the English threat was growing worse, and I could nae risk the Honors falling into the wrong hands. They must nae fall into the wrong hands. Promise me, Bruce!”
“I promise,” Bruce had replied, still unsure if the Bishop weren’t hallucinating the map at Inchmurrin.
“Tis in the bowls of the King,” the Bishop had said. “That’s where ye’ll find it. Once ye have the map, find the Honors.”
“I will.” Bruce humored him. “I will find them, and I will crown the rightful King of Scotland.”
The Bishop had smiled then, a smile full of admiration. “Tis you, my lad. Yer the rightful King of Scotland.”
The wind was shocked out of Bruce’s lungs and for a moment he drew a complete blank. The Bishop’s words had entered his ears in one piece, but their meaning had completely garbled in his head. He couldn’t possibly mean what Bruce had heard; that was impossible.
“Nae,” Bruce had shook his head. “Ye cannae mean that. I will find someone worthy.”
“Yer worthy,” the Bishop insisted. “I made sure of that. Nae other Laird in Scotland is worth the dust on yer boots. I have trained ye to be the leader our people need to fight the English menace. Ye, Laird Bruce Grant, are our only hope.”
This declaration had taken the last strength out of him and he lapsed into unconsciousness for a while. Bruce held her hand, his eyes steady on the Bishop’s chest which rose and fell timed to the beating of his heart..
Breathing shallow, the Bishop’s eyes fluttered as his hands searched for Bruce. “Today I have completed my duty to God and Scotland. Today I proclaim ye as the King to unite this land and wrest it from the English yolk.”
The man Bruce had looked up to after the demise of his father had left his earthly abode, leaving Bruce orphaned for a second time.
Now, in the dim prison, Bruce played John McLean’s last words to him over and over in his head. A part of him was convinced that the Bishop had been too sick to give his words any credence, but another knew that the Bishop would not talk of the Honours in vain. Was there a chance there was some truth in what he said? Had he found the location of the Honours of Scotland?
Not for a moment did Bruce give much thought to the Bishop’s proclamation that he was worthy of Scotland’s crown. That was not Bruce’s motivation in finding the Honours. But if the Bishop was right, and he had found their location, it would be their chance to oust the English and find their rightful sovereign. Scotland was ready. Bruce could feel it in his bones.
But it had come to naught.
As soon as he had landed on John o’ Groats after the funeral in Orkney the English had been waiting for him. Before he could start on the Bishop’s advised path he had been shackled and thrown in a damp cell.
How had they known? The thought tormented him constantly. How had they known that he would be in Orkney? The implications perturbed him. There was a spy in his house, and it made his skin crawl more than the rats brushing against his feet in the night.
But hope was on the horizon, hope kept him sane in the darkness. Leo Sinclair, his most trusted friend was out there. And Bruce knew for a fact that Leo would go to the ends of the Earth to set him free.
***
“Calm down, lad,” Domnhall said. He held Leo by the shoulders and helped him into a chair. “Now tell me, who has taken Bruce?”
“The English!” Leo spat. “They were waiting for him on John o’ Groats, the bastards.”
“Why was Bruce there?” Domnhall asked. “He sent me a letter excusing himself from the festival because the English were champing at the bit, trying to find any excuse to arrest him.”
“That’s true. The English have been sniffing around Dunnottar Castle like a bunch of swine rooting for mushrooms. Bruce wouldnae have gone if it were nae important. He’d gone to Orkney to see the Bishop,” Leo explained. “The man was on his deathbed; God rest his soul. It would have been heartless not to comply with his dying wish to see his favorite nephew one last time.”
The news came as a shock to Elspeth. The Bishop of Orkney, dead? She had fond memories of the man tending to her small cut while telling her stories. He had been kind to her, and certainly a second father figure to Bruce Grant. Of course, he had left the safety of his Castle to meet the Bishop before he passed away.
“And where have they taken Bruce, do ye ken?” Domnhall asked.
“Bass Rock Castle,” Leo said. “But that’s nae all. They’ve taken over Dunnottar Castle. They’ve taken over our home. English soldiers eating on our tables, sleeping in the Laird’s bed; it turns my stomach to think of it.”
“Christ Almighty,” Domnhall rubbed his chin. He looked just as shocked as Elspeth felt. “Yer welcome to stay here with us, Sinclair. Any member of the Grant Clan is welcome to stay with us.”
“I truly appreciate yer generosity but I seek more than shelter for our people.” Leo stood up, unable to contain himself. “We must take arms and release all the innocent Scottish prisoners from Bass Rock Castle. A few men from Clan Grant managed to escape the raid and await yer assistance. If we leave now, we can get there within three days before they inflict much damage to Bruce’s spirit.”
The request seemed to take Domnhall by surprise. Elspeth could see that Domnhall wasn’t expecting a call to arms. Elspeth recognized the reluctance; it was the same blind-eye, the same avoidance of any confrontation which had given Adamina the confidence to treat Elspeth the way she had. This same reluctance to mount an attack on Bass Rock Castle gave the English the confidence to push and shove them out of their castles with impunity.
“Surely there’s a way we can resolve this without taking up arms,” Domnhall suggested. “We will leave tomorrow to commission a pardon from General Foster. I’m sure Laird Labert will want to help. He has clout with General Foster.”
Leo visibly deflated. He had not expected to be dismissed so thoroughly. Elspeth’s heart went out to him. He had come to Clan Buchan with so much hope only to be told that diplomacy was the choice of offense against English militarized brutality.
“Nae,” Leo said. “Words will nae help Bruce. He was taken three weeks ago. The Lord only knows what those English bastards are doing to him.”
“But Laird Labert…”
“Do me a favor and donae speak of this to Laird Labert. As ye said. He has clout among the English. We donae trust him.”
Domnhall was speechless, as was Elspeth. “Do ye nae trust Laird Labert?” he asked.
“Nae. Only a few people had any knowledge of the Bishop of Orkney’s request. Laird Labert was a regular visitor to Orkney. My suspicion is he gave Bruce up to the English so they wouldnae look at his castle to occupy.”
“That’s a grave accusation, Sinclair.” Domnhall looked deeply uncomfortable. “Laird Labert has been our ally for decades. He was at Bruce’s christening, donae forget.”
“That means naught when the English are threatening outside the door. Would ye nae sell any one of us if it kept the English out of Blair Castle?”
“I wouldnae betray any Scotsman, nae matter what the cost.”
“Then yer a better man than Laird Labert, but yer still nae as brave as Bruce, for he would take up arms if it were ye in Bass Rock Castle…”
There was a tense moment of silence. Both men were agitated, and tempers were running high. Elspeth expected Domnhall to strike Sinclair for the insult but then Domnhall shook his head and spread his arms, calling a truce. “Stay the night, Sinclair. We can discuss this further in the morning. I have nae denied ye assistance—just nae men. We cannae take up arms against the English when their armies overwhelm us. That would be madness. Dunnottar Castle has been taken over. If we were to strike them now at our weakest, we would lose Blair Atholl as well. Ye cannae expect me to put my people at risk. Bruce was aware of the dangers, he tried to put his head down until the storm of English suspicion blew over. How can ye call me a coward for doing the same?”
Leo did not say anything in return. It was obvious that Domnhall had made up his mind and would not be persuaded to part from his decision or the men Leo desperately needed.
“Can I nae persuade ye to join the feast?” Domnhall asked, his tone indicating that he knew they had reached an impasse and the relationship between Clan Buchan and Grant was never going to be the same following this day.
“Nae, thank ye,” Leo said. “I donae want anyone to ken I came to ye.”
“At least let me send ye some food before ye go.”
Leo nodded, though his expression was laced with disappointment.
Domnhall tapped his shoulder before leaving him in the hall. Leo Sinclair watched her brother leave, frustration evident in his tense shoulders, and clenched fists.
The nugget of an idea had rooted in Elspeth’s brain. Here she was, wishing for a situation out of her predicament and Leo Sinclair had come through the door like a knight in shining armor. The prospect of breaking Bruce out of prison wasn’t something she had considered as something she could do with her life, but she could be of use if he had been hurt as Leo had suggested.
Asking for permission from Domnhall would be like extracting teeth from a snail. Allie might be able to persuade him for a trip to the nearby Laird if a prospective match was in the offing but to be part of a mission to free another Laird from prison and risk the wrath of the English? She knew the answer already.
But was she ready to take her life into her own hands? It was now or never. You didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not if it was sent by the Lord Himself.
“Shh,” she hissed, trying to get Leo’s attention. “Leo!”
Leo startled. He looked around frantically as if he’d been approached by a ghost then his eyes fell on the tapestry and Elspeth behind it.
“Elspeth?” he whispered, mimicking her tone. “Is that ye?”
“Aye. I heard yer conversation with Domnhall. I didnae mean to spy. I was already hiding behind the tapestry.”
“Donae concern yerself about it. Yer brother has refused my pleas.”
“Aye, but he cannae stop people who volunteer to go with ye on yer mission.”
Leo’s green eyes lit up. “Ye ken of men who will desert and help with my cause?”
“Nae.” Elspeth came out from behind the tapestry, her plate in hand, and offered some of her food to Leo who took it gratefully. “But I would like to accompany ye.”
Leo stopped chewing to stare at her. He swallowed. “I mean nae disrespect, Lady Elspeth, but what good would ye be to Bruce? I need fighting men.”
“I understand, but ye also need a healer. If what ye say of Bruce’s treatment at the hands of the English, then ye will need one to mend him once he is out of prison or else what would it be all for?”
Leo thought about it as he ate. “And yer saying ye ken of healing herbs?”
“Aye,” Elspeth said. “I can also ride and take care of myself.” The first part wasn’t completely true. She was an average rider. But the latter was true. She did know how to care for herself. After her parents had passed away, it had fallen to her to look out for her well-being. “I will nae be a bother.”
“And what of Domnhall? Will he permit ye?”
Elspeth pursed her lips. This was the hurdle that she needed to cross.
“What is yer concern at the moment? Upsetting my brother or making sure yer Laird is freed from the clutches of the English?”
Leo appraised her, a small hint of a smile on his face, the first she’d seen since he’d arrived. Suitably impressed he nodded. “I shall expect ye by the North Wood at dawn. If yer late we will leave ye behind. Agreed?” He held a hand handout for her.
Elspeth smiled wide. She wouldn’t be late. It was her way out of Domnhall’s plans for her life. She took Leo Sinclair’s hands and agreed to whatever her destiny was going to bring.
Chapter Two
Running away was thrilling. It took Elspeth an hour to pack everything she deemed important to take on her journey. Bruce’s injuries were unknown but her imagination got the best of her and she packed her entire medicine box with a few clothes and some food she filched from the busy kitchens.
Writing the letter was the hardest part. Agonizing over her choice of words Elspeth finally settled with a short missive about where she was going and why. Placing it on her dressing table where it would be found almost immediately, she tucked her cloth sack under one arm and left her room.
The castle was quiet. Usually, guards were pacing the halls and the walls. But after a feast where every able-bodied man and woman had been on their feet since before dawn, it wasn’t surprising to find the halls and guideposts deserted.
Not that it would have mattered if there were guards in every hall. Elspeth took the discreet paths out of the castle. She knew them all. Months of hiding from Adamina had made her an expert on secret passages and hiding places.
Stealing a horse was another matter altogether. The stables boys slept in a neat row in the first stall where the saddles were kept. Elspeth had to place her cloth sack by the stable gates and tiptoe around their sleeping forms. Her heart beat a tattoo in her throat and she was certain that one of them would wake up at any moment and sound the alarm.
Picking up the lightest saddle she turned to leave the stall when a hand grabbed her by the ankle. Terror snaked up through her leg to her lungs where her scream froze like a leaden lump. It was fortunate that her fingers clamped rigidly shut around the saddle rather than loosen like jelly, letting it drop to the floor.
The hand gripping her was that of Ainsley, one of the younger stable boys. Snoring lightly, he had shifted in his sleep and taken a hold of her. Twisting her ankle away from him gently, Elspeth coaxed his hand off of her ankle slowly. Ainsley grunted and turned to lie on his other side. Elspeth nearly fainted with relief. She tiptoed out on shaking legs. Once she had steadied her breathing, she made her way to the stall at the very end.
Willow was sleeping. She did not take kindly to being woken. Her neigh pierced through the dark. Elspeth shushed her, stroking her nose. She pulled out the apples from her cloak pocket and bribed her favorite horse. Willow shook her head grumpily but accepted the bribe. While she was munching away, Elspeth placed the saddle on her back and tied it securely. Then she led Willow slowly out of the stall, another apple in her hand to inspire good behavior.
The night was cool compared to the oppressive humidity of the stables. Elspeth wasted no time in stuffing her cloth sack into one of the saddlebags. Instead of mounting Willow and galloping away as fast as possible, Elspeth slowly walked the horse. The thundering of hooves could alert one of the guards and she would be caught before even leaving the perimeters of the castle. If she were caught before making it out of the grounds, she doubted she’d be able to live down that embarrassment. Elspeth Buchan – the would-be runaway. What a joke!
And so, she walked. It gave her ample time to think about her decision and what she could look forward to in the future. Elspeth had a plan. She was no fool to risk her reputation and her brother’s goodwill by being so reckless. As soon as Bruce was rescued and placed in hiding somewhere, she would go to Laird Labret’s castle and write to Domnhall, placing forward her demands. Domnhall would be upset, and he would try to order her home, but eventually, he would give in.
Then she could have her cottage and her independence.
Elspeth reached the North Wood a little before dawn. There were no signs of a camp, no fire, no noise of men and horses. For a dreadful moment, she feared that Leo hadn’t taken her offer seriously and had left soon after leaving Blair Castle. She scanned the trees, hoping to discern something in the dark. She stood there, undecided, for so long Willow nudged her shoulder with her nose to make her move.
“Just a minute,” Elspeth hissed.
Willow did not take kindly to the rude tone and pulled on her reins. Elspeth had not expected it and she yelped as she lost her balance and fell to the ground.
“That’s a feisty horse.” Leo’s voice came to her from the forest. Heart racing Elspeth sat up straight to see shadows pull away from the tree branches like tar slinking off the roof. Leo Sinclair and his men came to join her just as the sky turned a lighter shade of black. “Are ye certain ye can ride it, lass?”
Elspeth got to her feet in a flash. She couldn’t see the faces of the other men in the dark, but she could tell they were laughing at her. Brushing dirt off her skirts she straightened herself and grabbed hold of Willow’s reins. The horse harrumphed a little but didn’t protest anymore. Elspeth knew Willow could sense something was finally happening.
“Aye,” she said. “Willow’s antsy to get started.”
“As are we,” Leo said. “Our horses are down the road.”
Elspeth followed them, suddenly nervous. It had been exciting to think about the adventure when she was in her room, but now that she was there, right at the edge of making a move she could never take back, she was getting cold feet.
Her life had been a world composed mostly of women. Men were usually in the background, not a big part of her daily dealings. Now, she was the only woman in a group of burly men with varying degrees of facial hair. It was intimidating, not to mention frightening to be found in such company. Already thought of as frail and of little consequence, among these giants, Elspeth felt dwarfed.
“Is the journey long?” she asked Leo, falling in step with him.
“It takes six to seven days to reach Bass Rock Castle, but we need to make the journey in five.” Leo gave her a quizzical look. “Are ye certain ye can keep up?”
Elspeth licked her lips and glanced at Willow. The mare was fast but temperamental. Elspeth would need to find a bushel of apples along the way to keep her happy. “Aye,” she said. “That should be fine.”
Leo looked skeptical but he kept his doubts to himself. Elspeth appreciated his discretion.
They reached the clearing where they had camped the previous night. The sky was a deep azure blue when they finally mounted their horses and galloped away from Blair Castle. Elspeth kept turning back to watch her childhood home diminish until it was swallowed by the horizon.
She was finally on her way!
If you liked the preview, you can get the whole book here
Highlander’s Favorite Enemy – Extended Epilogue
A few weeks later…
“Are ye ready then, Isbeil?” Isbeil nodded, but she breathed out with a trembling voice as she and Ailsa stood together in front of the looking-glass.
“Aye, I think so. But did ye feel this nervous when ye were about tae marry my brother?”
Ailsa grinned. “Do ye nae remember me gripping yer hand very tightly as we walked down the stairs tae meet him with the priest? But remember, ye and I are doing it taegether taeday. What makes ye so nervous?”
“It is just that our love is so new. Well, nae new, but we only newly ken about it. I worry that he will change his mind. It is so rushed!”
Ailsa chuckled and turned Isbeil around so that they were facing each other, hand in hand. “He will most certainly nae change his mind, especially when he sees just how lovely ye look, Isbeil.” Isbeil, like Ailsa, was wearing a white-gray dress, her brown hair twisted in braids around her head, and the both of them wore crowns of flowers. “He has loved ye for a long time, as ye him.”
Isbeil blushed at her sister-in-law’s words, but she also smiled. “We owe everything tae ye, Ailsa. I would never have spoken of my love if ye had nae encouraged me. And he was so worried about what Niel would think that he, too, would have kept his mouth shut. So how can I ever repay ye?”
“Isbeil, ye have already repaid me with yer love and kindness as my sister. I have never had sisters of my own, and even my cousin who came the closest tae a sister was taken from me. Ye have given me a new and loving family. Ye have welcomed me with open arms. I am only glad that I could help in some small way tae bring ye yer own happiness.”
Isbeil wrapped Ailsa in her arms when there was a knock on the door. “Are ye ready, my dears? The carriage is waiting.”
“Aye, Mother. We are!” Isbeil called, and the door opened. On the other side, Marta was looking elegant and beautiful, and when her eyes alighted on the two girls before her, she put her hand to her mouth. “My daughters. Ye are perfect and lovely. Come. This is a joyous occasion, and we shall have cause tae celebrate it.”
Ailsa and Isbeil linked arms as they rode in the open carriage to the church, not far from the castle. It was a beautiful day, and the sun was shining. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and even though Ailsa was already well and married, she still felt nervous at the thought of marrying once more in the presence of the clan and her uncle. He had given his hearty blessing and was now attempting to woo Marta, even though he’d never admit it, but she was still nervous that all the dreams she had so recently come upon would falter, and she would be back where she’d come from: afraid, alone, and unhappy.
But Isbeil’s smiling cheer calmed her a little. “I do hope that the ceremony goes quickly so that we can get to the feast and begin tae celebrate.”
Ailsa grinned. “Perhaps there is something else ye wish tae get tae as well,” she said in a low voice so that Marta would not hear.
Isbeil’s cheeks bloomed red, and she stifled a laugh. “I cannae hide from ye, can I? Ye are quite right, but that is partially what makes me so nervous. I…I have kissed before, we have kissed, but that is nae the same as what comes after. Is it really so dreadful as what some people make out tae be? But, from our kisses, I ken that it would be very good between Kieth and me.”
She watched Ailsa with slight trepidation, and Ailsa wondered who on earth Isbeil had been speaking to about such things. For surely they were not happily coupled with their own partners and sought tae ruin a young woman’s happiness and anticipation. She patted Isbeil’s hand comfortingly and thought back to the passionate, frenzied lovemaking that she and Niel had enjoyed. It was so far from dreadful that it was laughable.
“Dearest Isbeil, I can tell ye now that it is nae dreadful at all! Ye shall enjoy yerself immensely. I promise.” She winked, and Isbeil grinned, looking ever so slightly relieved.
The church finally came into view, and both girls experienced a fresh rush of nerves as they saw the crowd gathered outside to welcome them, the two grooms waiting near the church doors, dressed in MacLean kilts and colors, their blades gleaming in the afternoon sun. Her uncle stood off to the side, a warm smile on his face. The men walked to gather the women from the cart, and Niel’s eyes were warm as he lifted Ailsa down from her seat, hands on her waist. It brought to mind the good news that she had to tell him as soon as they would be alone together.
Once she was firmly on the ground, Niel whispered in her ear. “My dear, it is nae every day that a man gets tae the woman he loves. Twice.” She shivered as he placed a quick kiss on her cheek, and she took his arm, following the procession into the church to stand in front of the priest. To be married once was one thing, but to be married again was a certain sign that their love was strong and permanent. Ailsa sighed inwardly with deep contentment and listened to the priest’s words as he bound the two couples to eternal bliss.
***
Ceremony and speeches done, Niel sat at the head of the main hall’s table, his hand touching his wife’s leg. For she was officially his wife, twice over. They were watching Isbeil and Kieth happily dance together in the center of the busy room. The whole clan had been invited, and if it were possible, the castle was near to bursting. He didn’t care. The merriment of the people very much matched his own merry mood, and absently, he lifted Ailsa’s hands to brush a kiss across her soft fingers.
He looked down at them with scrutiny, twisting and turning them in his hands. “My dear, yer fingers have proved to be skilled in many ways that I didnae expect as a man. Or yer husband.”
There was a seductive gleam in Ailsa’s eye as she leaned towards him. His body was already raging to take her to bed, but he’d promised his mother that he would remain in the hall to celebrate Isbeil and Kieth’s wedding as long as possible. “Do tell, my Laird. What skills do I possess.”
“Well,” he kissed them again, slowly this time, keeping her gaze. He was delighted when her mouth went a little slack. “Ye have proven yerself quite skilled with a sword, even after only a few lessons.”
“Thank ye,” she said with a slight bow to the head.
“Ye even proved adequate with yer fists when it came time for those lessons, too.”
She grinned. “Women have far more strength than men give them credit for.”
“I have never denied it, my love. And there is another area in which ye excel.” She blushed again, and he grinned, knowing that their connection in bed far exceeded anything he’d ever experienced before. With each new time, there was something new they learned about one another, some new height of pleasure they reached. “Yer fingers are quite adept at…stroking, lass,” he said, leaning closer. “I can honestly say that ye are far better at stroking me than I am myself.”
She made a contented sound in his ear. “Perhaps we might put that tae another test, dear husband?”
“I couldnae agree more, but I did tell my mother that I would remain in the hall while Isbeil and Kieth were here, tae celebrate their nuptials.”
Ailsa’s eyes turned to the crowd, but she frowned. “They are nae here any longer, Niel.” He looked out as well, and even though the room was quite a crush, he knew that he would be able to easily spot the other bride and groom. “Yer right. Damn. I wonder if he took my advice?”
“What advice would that be?” Ailsa asked him with narrowed eyes.”
“The advice that the room would be far too busy for anyone tae notice if they left for a little while….”
Ailsa burst into laughter. “Ye are a bad influence, Laird MacLean, but as we are about tae embark upon the same thing, I cannae say that I blame ye.” She stood, her hand still in his.
“We are?” he asked, sounding as eager as a young boy.”
“But of course. Yer promise nae longer matters, now that the bride and groom are nae even in the room tae celebrate. And I have the perfect place for us tae go.”
He watched her for a few seconds before realization dawned on him. “Och aye,” he drawled, standing up and following her out along the far wall until they reached the corridor heading to the library. “We were too hurried a few weeks ago after the battle that we forgot tae avail ourselves of this spot at the last feast.”
She giggled, and like young people, they were hurrying to the library to relieve the scene of one of their first times of heated passion once more. They were close now, and he turned his back to the door, walking backward as he drew her close to him. “Come, my love, all that talk of fingers and stroking has my mind going wild.” But outside of the doorway, his ears perked up, and he paused, his face slowly reddening.
Quickly, he moved away from the door and muttered, “That bastard.”
Ailsa frowned. “What are ye talking about?”
“Listen for yerself,” he said, nodding to her, thoroughly embarrassed. Ailsa’s eyes opened wide at the sound of a loud moan. A feminine moan of pleasure, and it sounded uncannily like Isbeil.
Ailsa covered her mouth and hurried from the door, trying to keep her laughter to a minimum. As they walked back down the hallway, hand in hand, Niel frowned. “What on earth are ye laughing at?”
“Did ye give him the exact location as well?” she asked when she could catch her breath. Niel found a small alcove and pulled her inside with him, but she kept laughing. Finally, he stopped her laughing with a kiss. Her hot mouth moved over his and stirred him instantly to attention.
“I didnae,” he said breathlessly against her mouth. “Now he has stolen it.”
“Let them be. They are newly married and in love.”
“May I remind ye that we are quite the same and in need of giving intae our desires?” He ground his hips against her, and Ailsa’s eyes flashed with desire.
“Ye donnae need tae remind me, but we will find another place tae make love this evening, I am certain of it. Now, there is something I wish tae tell ye if ye would stop being so….”
“Charming, irresistible?”
“Frustrating,” she said with a mischievous grin. Then, before he could say anything else, she took his hand and laid it upon her stomach. “I wanted tae tell ye, my love, that I am expecting. That we are tae be a mother and a father.”
The words took a few seconds to sink in, but once they did, Niel’s eyes widened, and he pulled a laughing Ailsa to him, covering her face and neck with his happy kisses. “I take it ye are happy then?”
“Gloriously so, my love,” he said between kisses. He pulled away. “I am nae hurting ye, am I?”
She frowned. “Now, ye must remind the strength of the female body. We are nae simply cotton wool that must be protected at all costs. Yet, we can still do things. So many things, even if we are with child.”
At that, he grinned, drawing her near. “Then come along. I wish tae test this statement of yers and nae within earshot of my own sister.”
“Lead the way, Laird MacLean, for, in this case, I shall happily follow.”
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Chapter 1
Selkirk, Scottish Lowlands, August 1740
The Seat of Clan Mackie
“Ye are very bonny,” an older gentleman whispered into Ailsa MacAulay’s ear as they danced. She grimaced at the smell of his stale breath, but she was grateful for the compliment. It had been a blessed day thus far, and she wished that it could last forever.
It was a dream. She was finally engaged to the most handsome man in the world, and nothing could seem to quell her excitement.
Well, this lad’s breath might.
“Thank ye, sir. Ye are most kind,” she replied from her place in his arms as they danced.
“I ken that James Mackie is grateful tae have ye as his Lady. Ye shall do very well indeed.” His words were said with the kindness of an old man, but Ailsa could catch the measure of his speech. His eyes sparkled with flirtation. She wished that she could heave the contents of her meal onto the floor in reply, but instead, she smiled tightly in return.
“And I grateful that I shall be a part of this clan. My uncle is very proud that we are tae become allies.”
The old man opened his mouth to speak again, but someone tapped him on the shoulder. Ailsa grinned in relief at the sight of her uncle Rory. “May I, lass?”
“Of course, Uncle,” Ailsa said, almost too readily. The older man looked at Rory with a sort of narrowed gaze before he bumbled off, and her uncle stood before her, taking her into his embrace gently.
“So, are ye happy then, lass?” he asked.
“More than happy, Uncle.” Automatically, her eyes turned about the room in search of her betrothed. She found him by the feasting tables, a cup of ale in his hand. His smile was wide as he spoke to a group of English nobles, and his manner was excited.
“James will make a fine husband and a fine laird.”
“I ken it, Uncle. Ye have done well tae put us taegether.”
Her uncle cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable as he glanced Jame’s way. “I thought only of ye, lass, and I ken that ye have had eyes for him for a long time. Although, it helps our own clan tae unite. Yer father would have been proud. On both counts.”
Ailsa nodded her head, but she could barely hear her uncle. Since she’d fixed her eyes on James, she was in a dreamy state. James Mackie, laird of one of the most powerful lowland clans, was to be her husband. How had she become so lucky?
He and her uncle had done business together over the years, and from first glance, her heart had been stolen. James Mackie was thirty years old, only a handful of years older than herself at twenty-three. He was tall, brawny, with lovely brown hair that reminded her of honey and bright green eyes. His face was covered in a light beard, and everyone who knew him boasted of his skill with a blade.
He was feared but respected. At least her uncle had told her so, and she could believe it. She could understand how when anyone looked at him, they fell under his spell.
“Uncle, there are many Englishmen here,” she said suddenly, her eyes finally leaving James to wander further about the room. “Why so many on the feast of our engagement?”
Her uncle cleared his throat again and began to cough anew. “Och, we should get ye a bit of water, Uncle,” Ailsa said kindly, and she took his hand, pulling him away from the group of dancers to a wooden table.
“Whiskey will do me well enough, lass,” he said between wheezes, and she motioned to a servant who hastily filled a cup.
“Here,” she said, thrusting the glass into his hand.
He drank the dark liquid quickly, perhaps too quickly for whiskey, and Ailsa’s mouth pricked up at the corners.
A Scotsman has an appreciation for whiskey like nae other.
Once his glass was emptied, he sighed with contentment and placed the glass back down on the table, turning his gaze to the other members of the merry party. She followed his eyes. Unfortunately, the guests were mostly all James’ for she had no other family besides her uncle.
After her mother’s and father’s death some years ago, her uncle had taken charge of the MacAulay clan, and she had been an only child. He had lost his own wife and daughter to an illness many years before, and so they were together just the two of them. He had treated her just like a daughter and taken care of her as such. The guests ranged from warriors to villagers to a large number of English nobles. They were drinking wine, ale, and whiskey, feasting on chicken legs and venison. She could tell those that were wealthy, for their stomachs protruded slightly under their garments, and their lips were shiny with oil from all the meat they consumed.
Most of them had given their congratulations, and more than one gentleman was kind enough to ask her to dance. For that was what had happened all evening. James had been so consumed with his guests that after the announcement of the engagement at the beginning of the meal, he’d hardly had enough time to pay her any mind.
She was sad about it, but she knew he was an important man. Although, it was rather strange just how many Englishmen he had invited.
Her uncle finally said, “Ye ken how much the lad does. He needs tae play both sides, for as a lowland clan, he is close tae the border with England. Edinburgh is only about fifty miles away, lass, and so ye ken how many Englishmen pass through these parts. We donnae have tae see them as much, tucked away in the Highlands.”
Ailsa nodded with a smile. “I understand, Uncle.”
“Good,” he said, passing her a fresh cup of wine from one of the tables. “I am glad.” Ailsa was used to listening to her uncle. She had been young but equally heartbroken at the loss of both her parents in a carriage accident ten years before. Without her parents, she felt like a boat without a rudder, and so she’d completely given herself to her uncle’s power and advice. She hadn’t wanted to think about anything for a long, long time. It hurt too much.
Her uncle had gotten used to that relationship, and so it had continued. He kept her best interests at heart, and so she wasn’t surprised that he’d chosen her betrothed, knowing she found James Mackie undeniably handsome.
Uncle Rory patted her hand. “My dear, I must go and speak tae a few men about some business matters. Ye understand, lass.”
“Of course, although I am a little sad that ye wish tae conduct business during my engagement feast.”
He chuckled throatily. “I ken it, but ye ken that it takes a long, long time tae travel down from our castle up north. I must take my opportunities where I can find them. Who kens how long it will be until we can return up north once more?”
Ailsa shook her head, laughing a little. Her uncle winked and left her on her own, clutching her glass of wine like a good luck charm. She had been so used to living with just her uncle that even though she was happy, the sight of such a large party with all the music, heat, and merriment made her a little dizzy. She hadn’t been to very many gatherings as large as this one. She didn’t consider herself the most skilled at social conversations, but tonight had proved that she had learned enough from her mother’s lessons as a child to do justice by her.
She looked at James longingly, but he was still in conversation, this time with a new set of people. He glanced her way, and her heart did a little flip when he winked in her direction before returning to his conversation. Ailsa had the great urge to faint dead away, but she knew that she knew it was a little ridiculous.
What would James think if I fainted at simply one glance? He willnae have any faith in me as a strong wife if I did that.
She took a slow sip of her wine and thought about the wedding. It was to take place in a few days, and then there would be the wedding night. Even though she had no older female relatives to tell her what would occur, she still felt a thrill when thinking about being in James’ arms, smelling his scent, and being kissed by his lovely pair of soft-looking lips.
“It would be heavenly,” she sighed in dreamy delight but colored when she realized she said it aloud. Over her wine glass, she suddenly spied the old man from earlier heading her way again. No doubt he would be looking for a second dance or chance at his misguided flirtations.
Anxiously, she looked about the room for the best exit, and clutching her skirt, left her wine behind, and hurried out of one of the side doors to the main hall. It led down a small passageway, with torches guiding her way until she made her way out the back of the castle and into the starry night. Soft grass sounded from underfoot as she made her way around the side of the castle, loving the feel of the cool night air on her skin.
She leaned up against the stone, feeling the cold, roughness under her palms. “Thank God,” she breathed as she looked up at the mass of stars winding and twisting their way across the periwinkle night sky. Torches lined the outside wall, but they hardly hampered her glorious view of the heavens.
“And what are you thanking our creator for?”
Ailsa turned with a start to see a young man exiting the castle the same way she did. At first, she thought he was a guard sent by James to ask her to return. There had been so many speckled throughout the castle, especially at the entrance. But luckily here, there were none that she could see, and she was grateful for the silence.
“Och, naethin’,” she replied, glad that the dim torchlight wouldn’t reveal her blushes. “Have ye left the throng of people as well?”
“Ay-Yes,” the man said. “Far too stuffy for us in there, you know. I needed fresh air.”
Ailsa frowned as she looked at him. These men were certainly dressed as English nobles in their fine clothes, but their accents seemed forced somehow. As if the words were like rocks in their mouths. By their ruddy faces and hair, they appeared Scottish to her, but what did she know? Scotland was the only country she’d ever been to. She was a little nervous. She had never spoken to an Englishman before, and this one was strangely friendly.
She took a breath and tried to remind herself that she was soon to be Lady Mackie. She would have to get used to speaking to all kinds of people as Lady of the castle. She tried her best to smile. “I understand. I was feeling a little woozy myself.”
“Are you the laird’s betrothed?”
“Aye,” she said, nodding and feeling her heart swell with pride as she smiled. “I am.”
She cocked her head to the side as she looked at the man. He was vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place him. It would be impossible as she knew no Englishmen personally. He was very handsome, with his auburn hair and deep brown eyes. James was obviously handsome with a bright smile, strong shoulders, and well-trimmed hair, but this man was attractive in a more understated and rugged way. His hair was slightly unkempt, and his chin was dark with facial hair. He was taller than James, and his shoulders were wider. He wasn’t dressed as a soldier, but she could imagine that he was, for his size betrayed his strength.
The intent look of his gaze made her feel strangely warm inside as if she’d consumed too much wine. Perhaps she had and hadn’t realized it. She shook her head to be rid of the strange, dream-like feeling.
I am tae be married, for God’s sake. I cannae think of other men in such a way, she chastised inwardly.
“Well, I congratulate you,” the handsome man said, in his forced accent. “Here, take a cup of wine with me.” He handed an empty glass to her.
“Och, ye donnae need tae do that. I can get me wine inside.”
“And return to that room as hot as hell?” He shook his head, a twinkle in his eye. “You are welcome to share with me, and I shall toast my congratulations.” He grinned, and Ailsa felt that warm tingle in her stomach again. “Besides, I could tell that ye wanted tae escape that old man. He seems tae have fondled his way through the feast.”
Ailsa laughed, feeling more relaxed, and reached out for the glass. The man was right. She wasn’t ready to return to the room yet, especially not when James was so busy, and she was being hunted by the amorous man with foul breath. Returning didn’t tempt her in the slightest. He poured part of his wine into her glass.
The man raised his glass. “To your betrothal,” he said with a smile. He had the type of smile that made one want to smile as well. Despite all her nerves, Ailsa smiled back at him genuinely. She lifted her wine.
“Thank ye, sir. Ye are most kind.” She took a long sip, savoring the sweet liquid as it sent warm tingles down her throat and into her belly. It was a sweet wine, one she hadn’t tried before. “Ye are most kind tae share. I donnae think I will be ready tae return tae that room any time soon.”
She smiled, and the gentleman smiled at her joke. She leaned back against the wall and looked up at the stars again. “Are they nae fine?” she asked him.
“Yes, indeed. Finer than what we see in busy London, for certain.” She blinked and noticed that the stars began to swim before her eyes. She blinked again, and they kept doing so, gliding in long streams in the sky.
She touched her head. “Och, I must have had too much this evenin’,” she said in a garbled tone, her own voice strange to her ears. Then, without another word, she fell forward into the man’s arms.
Chapter 2
Two hours earlier…
“Ye are going tae get us both killed, ye ken?” said Kieth Donahue, right-hand man to Laird of MacLean Clan. He and Niel, the laird, were nestled behind a low castle wall, watching as the guests for the gathering entered the castle.
“Nae if we do this right,” Niel said gruffly, putting a finger to his lips after he spoke to warn his friend to keep quiet. He turned back to the entrance. Kieth was right. There were too many guards. They seemed to be part of the castle walls, and they were stationed around the entrance and high up on the battlements. He and Kieth were well-hidden behind a wall, in the midst of brush, but still. They could be seen. He watched as the various guests, most of them English nobles, stood at the doorway, handing the guard a slip of paper.
He cursed under his breath, and Kieth turned to him. “What is it?”
“They need invitations, it seems.”
“Which we donnae have,” Kieth said stupidly.
Niel wanted to punch his friend hard in the arm, but that would have to wait. “Aye, so we donnae. We will have tae find another way tae get inside.”
“Are our lives worth all this, lad? Just tae speak tae Rory MacAulay about his niece?”
“Aye,” Niel said sharply, too sharply, for he thought he could hear guard movement on the far battlements. He lowered his voice and attempted to crouch even further below the wall and the brush. “I have told ye a thousand times. We need tae stop this marriage from happenin’. Every Highland clan kens that Mackie is a traitor tae his countrymen. He will stop at naethin’ tae gain power and wealth, but as a result, the English will find their way in and burn us all out of our land. Trouble has been brewin’ for a long time now. Ye ken it.”
“Aye, aye,” Kieth said, nodding along. “Ye have told me. But I didnae realize that it would be so dangerous.” His blue eyes looked out at a large number of guards. “The man fears somethin’. It is almost as if he kens that we were comin’. Or else he wouldnae have put up so many guards. It is nae normal.”
“Nae,” Niel said, chewing on the side of his mouth in thought. “But that’s why we brought our own men. He turned back towards the darkness where he could see the dark huddled shapes of his men, lining up against the trees in the thick forest just outside of Mackie Castle. They will wait for me signal if anythin’ goes wrong, but I think….”
His deep brown eyes saw a pair of English nobles looking already a bit drunk as they stumbled up the path toward the castle. Most of the guests had already gone in, and so it was just these sole wanderers coming towards them, moving in and out of shadows as they attempted to get their balance under control. And as if fate was handing him an opportunity, they moved into the shadows to relieve themselves. Niel looked at Kieth, and the two of them nodded at each other before rushing out and stealthily grabbing the two men and pulling them down hard behind the wall.
A few minutes later, Kieth and Niel were strutting up the path toward the castle, dressed in the clothes from the two drunken men. Kieth was practically swimming in his clothes, for one of the men was enormously fat. Niel tried not to laugh too hard to see Kieth struggle in the loose breeches.
The two Englishmen were sleeping peacefully behind the wall and under the brush, a little barer than they had been. Niel had thought about knocking them both unconscious, but when he offered them a swig from his flask, they took to it heartily, gulping down a sweet draught mixed with a little sleeping powder. Niel always brought it with him whenever he had missions to accomplish, just in case.
It was a harmless tool, and he’d used it in the past often enough. Now it swung in his jacket pocket, banging lightly upon his hard chest as they made their way to the door and produced their ill-gotten invitations. The guard took them in hand and nodded, allowing them entry. Once inside, the heat of the room struck both of them heavily. It was a good heat, with pleasant smells such as cooked meat and fire, but it was a sharp contrast to having been waiting out in the cold for as long as they had.
“But I could use a bloody drink,” Kieth mumbled under his breath as they passed through. Niel grabbed some cups from a side table and thrust one into Kieth’s hand.
“Drink up, lad.”
Kieth brightened. “Food too,” he said, and Niel grinned as his eyes searched across the room for Rory. He had known the man for many years, especially when he would come for talks with his father, and now, he needed to convince him that he was making a huge mistake with James. He was going to send them all straight to Hell if he went through with his plan. Niel had tried to send letters to him over the past few months, but there was no word in response. Now, he had to take matters into his own hands.
But he didn’t spy Rory right away, and they kept along the edge of one of the walls before he spotted James talking privately to what looked like an English soldier. Grabbing Kieth by the arm, he yanked him into a side passage off the hall, but they could still hear the conversation. He turned to Kieth, who was stuffing his mouth with fresh bread.
“Where in the bloody blazes did ye get that?” he asked. “And when did ye get that?”
Kieth shrugged and tried to smile. Niel had to try not to laugh at his friend’s bulging cheeks, and instead, they hung back, waiting. He couldn’t afford for James to catch sight of them in case he recognized them wearing English clothing. He had met James a few times and was a hard man, as hard as iron and just as cruel.
“She is a beautiful one, Mackie. I see that you have done well for yourself,” a sharp, proper English accent spoke, presumably the soldier.
He could hear James’ throaty chuckle. “Aye, so I have.” There was a pause, and Niel could hear the man take a step and lower his voice. “She is a bonny one tae be sure. That is the reason I agreed tae marry her. Well, that and many others. But ye ken that ye will be allowed tae make use of me bonny wife whenever ye need her. Consider it repayment for all ye’ve done for my clan and me. When ye come by.”
The other man laughed, and Niel felt sick. He looked at Kieth, who had for once stopped chewing, his mouth partially open in surprise. The bastard would marry a lass and then share her with anyone who wished? It took everything in Niel not to rush out and run the man through with a sword in the middle of his betrothal feast. His mouth twitched up at the corners at the thought of James dying with a look of surprise on his face, foiled in his attempts tae become the greatest Scottish traitor in history.
The men moved away, and when Niel leaned forward out of the passageway, he saw James approaching Rory and another gentleman. The three of them wore smiles on their faces as they discussed something Niel was too far away to hear. Apparently, her uncle was only happy to sell off his niece to a snake-like Mackie. Niel pulled on Kieth’s arm. “Come, lad. There is a change of plans.”
“What? Why?”
“Donnae be daft. We have got tae take this lass out of here for more reasons than just tae save the Highlands. My conscience wouldnae be clear kenning that I left her with such a man. I can see now that our persuasions tae Rory would be hopeless. Look at Rory there, smiling up at his future nephew-in-law like this is the happiest day of his life.”
“So what do ye suggest?”
Niel lifted up his flask, and Kieth tried to stifle a gasp. “Ye are going tae drug the lass?”
“Aye, and take her away from here. Out of these men’s clutches.”
“And what do ye propose tae do with her once we take her away? We cannae keep her like some animal.”
Niel sighed. “I havenae thought it all through yet, but we havenae much time. Come, we need tae find her. Ye want tae keep her here and let her succumb tae the fate of being “shared” with her new husband’s men?”
Kieth sighed in frustration. “Fine.”
“Good. But ye are tae tell nae one about that. Nae the lass, nae the men. It stays between us.”
Kieth nodded, and as they slipped back discreetly into the busy hall, he said, “Ye sure ye remember what she looks like? It has been some years.”
Niel nodded. “I think I can. I—” he stopped when he saw her walking across the hall, looking almost frightened. Her skirts were in her hand, and he rushed out of a doorway. He caught only a glimpse of her lovely face, but he knew it was she as soon as he saw her. The same brown hair, the same quickness of her eyes, the same lovely curves. Ailsa.
He pulled Kieth along again. “Let’s go.”
“Ouch! Ye ken that ye will receive a blade tae yer back if ye keep pulling on me.”
“I will consider those treasonous words against yer laird, lad,” Niel replied, and Kieth fell silent. “Ye will keep watch on us from the entrance tae outside.”
Kieth nodded. They picked up an empty wine glass on the way out, and Niel added the contents of the flask to his glass. Now it was just a matter of getting her to drink it.
***
A few hours later
Dreams. So many dreams. They were not all bad dreams either, but they were strange, curling around her mind as she slept. Ailsa wanted to wake up, but she couldn’t yet. Everything felt dense and heavy, and her limbs were useless. In these dreams, she saw things she hadn’t seen in a long time. Her uncle’s younger face, laughing with her father. Her dear mother smiling down at her as she taught Ailsa to sew. Dancing with a handsome man at a clan dance two years before, remembering the intent, honest look in his deep brown eyes.
She shifted and heard the crunch of grass. Grass? Why would there be grass inside a castle hall? She moved again, and the sound filled her ears once more, as well as the smell. It was fresh and damp but not the scent of morning dew. Ailsa’s mind pulled upward like she was coming out of water, desperate to take a breath. Suddenly, her eyes twitched until they opened, and she realized that she was on her back, staring up at an almost full moon. She blinked in surprise for a moment, trying to gather her bearings.
Where am I? She was still fatigued, and her mind was foggy, and for a second, she couldn’t remember what she had been doing before. Everything was a blank, and it was terrifying. She took a few breaths, slow and soft, and tried to sit up. It was a struggle to sit up, for her limbs ached like she had been put under some sort of a spell.
The wine. Her mind suddenly sparked into life, whirring to fill in the spaces of what she’d forgotten. “I was drinking wine at my engagement feast.”
She finally succeeded at sitting up and sat a fire crackling nearby. “Aye, so ye were,” a voice said, and Ailsa screamed, pulling back when she spotted a familiar face. She narrowed her eyes, and her breathing sped up as everything fell into place.
“Ye!” she said, nearly spitting the words, backing herself up along the ground until she hit against a tree trunk. “What have ye done?” She glanced around, spotting a few men lingering a distance away. Their eyes were turned towards her. “Why have ye taken me? Where is James?”
The man moved closer and reached out, trying to shush her. “Nae!” she screamed, and with the help of the tree behind her, she was able to stand, and she turned away, wanting to get out, go anywhere, but with these men. He caught her by the wrist and held her tight. She screamed again and swung around.
“Lass, I am sorry, but this is for the best, I promise ye.”
The cheek of him! She reached out a hand and went to slap him across the face, but he reached up and grabbed her other wrist.
“I wouldnae do that, lass.”
“Why should ye presume tae ken what is the best for me? I donnae even ken ye!”
He still held onto her wrists. She could see his face in the fire, and now with greater light, she realized that she recognized him. He was no Englishman at all. That much was clear, especially now that he was using his real accent. However, she remembered him from a dance two years before. That was the man from the dreams.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, lass. I will explain everything in time.”
She snorted and tried desperately to pull against him and even attempted a kick at his soft parts. He moved away expertly and called, “Kieth!” A young man responded, rushing forward with rope in his hands.
“We will have tae tie her, lad,” the handsome man said, and she struggled and fought, bit and clawed her best, but it was to no avail. The man was far too strong, and in a few moments, she was bound against the very tree which had helped her to stand.
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