Highland Engagement

by Dana D'Angelo

  As the bagpiper started the music, it was clear that many of the revelers could barely lift their arms and feet in order to dance. They flailed their arms and tripped as if they were attached to puppet strings, and an unruly child controlled them.

  “I think they are much too drunk,” Anabell said, trying to suppress her laughter.

  Lady Beitris chuckled at witnessing the stumbling dancers. She started to say something when she abruptly stopped and looked past Anabell’s shoulder.

  “He has arrived at last,” her grandmother said, getting up from her seat.

  Anabell turned around and saw a group of men on horseback approaching them. Her heart jumped when she recognized her father. He had a touch of gray in his hair and beard, and as he got closer, she saw that he appeared a little older than she remembered.

  “What is he doing here?” Anabell asked, finding her voice.

  “I told Gavan that ye were here,” her grandmother explained.

  “That’s why ye wanted tae change the date of the homecoming celebration,” Anabell said as understanding dawned on her.

  “Aye, your father had requested it.”

  Even as her grandmother confessed her participation in the scheme, she couldn’t make sense of Gavan MacNeadain’s arrival. During the time she lived in France, she wondered what he did and whether he thought of her. She dreamed that one day, she and her mother would be reunited with him. But now that she saw him in the flesh, she didn’t know what she would say to him. Did he even remember her?

  Lady Beitris met her son halfway. Since Anabell had no other choice, she followed her grandmother, although she hung back slightly.

  “As usual, ye are late,” her grandmother said, her tone accusatory. “The celebration is ending soon.”

  “Well, I made it here, didnae I?” He slid down from his mount and nodded to one of the servants to tend to his horse. When he turned, he spotted Anabell. “Sae, ye have finally returned,” he said.

  “Will ye nae greet your sire, lass?” her grandmother asked.

  “Aye.” Anabell went on her tippy-toes and dutifully kissed him on his cheek. “I wasnae expecting tae see ye, Father.”

  “I understand ye came back for your grandmother,” he said.

  She nodded. “I was told she was sick,” she explained. “However, when I arrived, I found nothing amiss, and Grandmother was in guid health. ‘Twas rather strange.”

  Her father nodded, but he didn’t comment on her discovery. Instead, he asked her a new question. “Where’s your mother?” He craned his neck to see if his wife was present. “Did she come with ye?”

  “Nay.” Then as an afterthought, she added, “Mother dinnae want me tae come tae Scotland. She said ‘twas dangerous here.”

  “She always believed Scotland was dangerous,” her grandmother huffed.

  “That’s because ‘tis true,” her father said. “Who accompanied ye then, Anabell?”

  “Maggie accompanied me.” Anabell looked around but was unable to locate the nursemaid.

  The MacNeadain started to say something else, but something in Anabell’s demeanor must have stopped him. He gazed at her for a long moment, and the slightly puzzled expression on his face turned thoughtful.

  “From what I can tell, ye have grown tae become a fine woman.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

  His unexpected compliment surprised her, but before she could ponder what he meant, her grandmother spoke up.

  “She has turned into a fine woman,” Lady Beitris said proudly. “She’s courageous too. A lass without courage wouldnae have crossed the sea, or risked her life tae get here.”

  “I’m glad ye think sae,” Anabell said, her tone polite. “But we had help. ‘Twas an escort that brought us safely tae Dunburn Castle.”

  Her father’s intense scrutiny made her feel uncomfortable and slightly annoyed. He looked at her as if he didn’t fully recognize her. But that was his own fault. She shook away the annoyance. In all these years, her father had never sought her out. He also had yet to offer an apology or acknowledged his neglect.

  “How have ye and the clan been, Father?” Anabell asked, making efforts to keep her tone polite and cool.

  “Nae guid,” he said, releasing a long sigh. “We’re at war with the Cunningtoun clan.”

  “’Tis never-ending,” her grandmother agreed.

  Anabell nodded. There was nothing else for her to add. She knew of the conflict and had already witnessed the devastation.

  “Come, let’s go for a stroll,” he said to Anabell.

  She started to assist her grandmother, but her father shook his head. “Mother will stay here. I want tae speak with ye alone.” He extended his elbow to her.

  Anabell exchanged a puzzled look with her grandmother, but she knew that the MacNeadain wasn’t giving her a choice. She reached up and obediently placed a hand on his sleeve.

  As they walked, they made idle conversation. But then her father abruptly changed the subject. “As ye ken, the dispute with the Cunningtoun clan hasnae abated after all these years.”

  “I’m aware of this,” she said.

  “Aye,” he said grimly. “We lost many lives during the war with the English. And now that the battle is finished, we’ve returned tae more strife between the two clans.” He shook his head in dismay. “The death and violence from these conflicts are truly senseless.”

  “’Tis the poor women and orphans on both sides that suffer the most,” she said.

  “Quite sae,” her father agreed. “That’s why we must end these skirmishes once and for all.”

  “’Twould be guid tae end the clan wars, but how would ye do this?”

  “I’m glad ye asked this question,” he said, his tone becoming earnest. “’Tis fortuitous that you have returned home. Ye are the link for greater peace and prosperity for our people.”

  “I?” she said, not understanding his reasoning. “I’m only one lass, and I have nay influence on anyone.”

  Anabell heard a person yell her name, and the cheery shout made her blink. It was at that moment that she was pulled out of her haze of confusion and some other odd emotion she didn’t want to explore at the moment.

  She and her father looked toward the crowd. A small, familiar figure came rushing over to them. In his hands were two sweet buns.

  “Iaan told me tae bring this bun for ye, Anabell,” Adam said when he reached them. He looked shyly at her father. “This one is for ye.”

  “That’s verra thoughtful of ye,” she said, taking his offering.

  “Aye, thank ye,” her father said.

  “Iaan wanted tae make sure ye got some before they’re all gone,” Adam said, grinning.

  Anabell took a bite of the fresh bun and savored the honeyed flavored bread. The lad, she noticed, seemed much happier, and the emancipated look on his face had disappeared. From what she could see, the life at the castle suited him and his siblings well. She was glad that she was able to help them improve their living conditions.

  As her father conversed with Adam, the boy stood taller as if speaking to the chief made him feel important and mature. The lad happily talked about his brother and sister, but he broke off when something caught his attention.

  “Och, it looks like the steward might need my help,” he said. “I better go.”

  She smiled as he rushed off. The boy’s presence had lightened the tension between her and her father. Adam liked the MacNeadain, and the chief spoke to the boy as if he cared. Perhaps then her sire wasn’t as heartless as she thought.

  “Adam will be an asset tae ye and the clan when he grows up,” she said.

  “I’m sure he will,” her father agreed.

  Chapter 14

  “Has your mother asked about me?” the MacNeadain asked as they walked a little farther from the noise.

  Anabell lowered her eyes and studied her father from underneath her eyelashes. His question reminded her once again that he had abandoned them. Did he really care about her mother, or was
this just superficial talk?

  “Nay, she hasnae spoken about ye,” she said, not willing to say more. Since they left Scotland ten years ago, her father had never shown any concern about them. But despite his disinterest, she managed to adapt to the environment and even came to love her new home.

  “I’m glad,” he said. “I’ve missed ye both.”

  She nodded, but she decided to keep silent. Even though he sounded sincere, she doubted that he told the truth.

  A small family walked toward them. The child sat on his father’s shoulders as they chatted with each other. When he saw the MacNeadain, the man stopped, shook hands with the chief, and reminisced about the good times they once had.

  Anabell stood to the side, patiently waiting for the men to finish their conversation. Her father was almost a stranger to her. What she knew of him was gleaned either from her mother or the people of Dunburn. His reputation of having a way with words was well-known, and she bore witness to his skill in winning over the clansmen. He deftly traded jokes with the men and made them feel equal to him. And it was plain to see that the MacNeadain was a leader who his men would follow without question.

  “Father, why did ye send us away?” Anabell asked once the family had left. This question had burned in her heart for years, and she wanted answers. She held her breath as she waited for his response.

  The MacNeadain paused as if he debated whether he should reveal anything to her.

  “The war against the Cunningtoun clan was escalating tae dangerous levels,” he admitted, finally. “I thought that by sending ye away, I would be able tae spare your lives. I loved ye both and didnae want anything tae happen tae ye.”

  “But why didnae ye nae come after us?” she asked, not willing to let things go. “Sae many years passed, and ye never visited.”

  Anabell didn’t expect to ask this question, but it burst out before she could stop it. And now that it was in the open, the pain she suppressed hung heavily between them.

  Regret crossed his face, and he closed his eyes. “Believe me, I wanted tae,” he said, his voice sad. “I thought of ye and your mother often, but the conflicts prevented me from leaving the clan. I feared that if I left for an extended time, I would have nothing tae return tae.”

  His confession did little to soften the hurt she felt.

  “I remembered we left abruptly.” Her voice turned sober as the events of the past unfolded in her mind. “’Twas during the night and we dinnae even get a chance tae say farewell.”

  The happy revelry in the background began to fade as the memories returned to her. Anabell was young at the time, but the details of the event were vivid. She was rudely awakened and whisked away to the port town of Caleith. During the journey there, she pestered her mother with questions until finally she learned that they were leaving Scotland. But even with this knowledge, she maintained her optimism, somehow thinking that her father would appear at any moment and tell her that everything was a hoax. Unfortunately, it was only when she boarded the ship that the reality of the situation hit her.

  She stood at the railing, peering into the shadowy harbor. The captain of the ship was just about to pass when she called out to him.

  “We cannae leave,” she told him, her voice sounding a bit desperate.

  But the captain never spared her a glance. As soon as the workers finished loading everything on the vessel, they set sail. Anabell stood on the upper deck, peering into the darkness. Then with every second that passed, she lost hope that her father would show up. And as they moved farther and farther away from land, the tears began to fall and wouldn’t stop.

  “I saw ye leave,” her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  The unexpected contact yanked her back to the present, and she flinched. But when his revelation sunk in, she was dumbfounded. “Ye saw me leave?” she repeated.

  “I dinnae show myself tae ye, but aye, I watched ye board the ship,” he said, dropping his hand from her shoulder.

  “But ye should have shown yourself!”

  “I couldnae,” he said, his face twisting at the memory. “I knew that ye wouldnae go peacefully with your mother if ye saw me. But tae tell you the truth, my heart ached tae see ye go, but ’twas a necessary sacrifice.”

  “Ye should have let me stay,” she said, clenching her fists at her side. She could feel the resentment rising to her chest. “While I’ve become accustomed tae the French people and their ways, my heart belongs tae Scotland.”

  Anabell wanted to turn away from her father and leave him. But she knew this would cause a scene. Instead, she allowed him to guide her past the group of revelers that gathered in front of the bagpiper.

  When they were well past the crowd of dancers, her father faced her. “I have a confession tae make,” he said.

  The gravity in his voice brought her wandering thoughts to a halt. Exactly what did he need to confess?

  “’Twas I who sent news that your grandmother was ill.”

  “What? I dinnae understand,” she said, her brows furrowing. “How is this possible? Maggie told me that ‘twas the Balisle Castle steward who sent the news. Besides, as I already mentioned, Grandmother is hale and hearty.”

  “I ken,” he said. “For years, I’ve tried tae convince your mother tae send ye home, but she has refused my request at each turn. As a last resort, I used your grandmother as an excuse tae bring ye back.”

  “Then ye lied tae lure me back here,” she said slowly.

  The knowledge of the deceit left her spinning, and she didn’t know what to think. Throughout her entire journey, she feared that she would lose her grandmother. Except now, her father was telling her that he had set up this whole charade.

  But then the shock of his admission finally fell away, and it was immediately replaced by red-hot anger. And the resentment she kept in check suddenly reared its head.

  “Why would ye lie about my grandmother?”

  “I’m sorry that it had tae come tae this,” he said, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I love ye as much as your mother. ‘Twas drastic measures I needed tae employ in order tae get ye home.”

  Anabell took a step back and glared at him. “Ye have a strange way of showing your love,” she said.

  “I deserve your anger,” the MacNeadain said, wincing. “I didnae see any other way tae have ye return. Your mother never liked living in the Highlands, and she wouldnae have allowed ye tae come.”

  She felt sick to her stomach. Her mother forbade her to cross the ocean, and Anabell had defied her.

  “Ye used deceit tae get me here,” she reminded him.

  “I’m nae denying that,” he said. “But the clan needs ye, daughter. Year after year, Clan Cunningtoun attacks us. And each time we are defeated and forced tae rebuild. Tae be honest, the spirits of our people are low. The ongoing conflicts have claimed lives, and soon I willnae have any fighting men tae count on.”

  “What does this have tae do with me?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m only one woman, and I dinnae have the training tae fight in the battles.”

  “I’m nae asking ye tae fight. That’s the furthest thing from my mind,” he said. “What I want is for ye tae help end the war.”

  “I told ye, I dinnae have any power tae end any wars,” she said.

  “That’s where ye are wrong. A marriage alliance between ye and the Cunningtoun could potentially end this decades-auld feud. Rather than engaging in warfare, we can gain much if we join forces with them.”

  Her sire’s suggestion seemed like a jest. She wasn’t interested in marrying her suitor in France. And she certainly wasn’t interested in marrying a Highland chief either. But when she looked at the MacNeadain’s lined face, she found no traces of humor there. He was earnest about his proposal.

  “Since setting foot in Scotland, the last thing on my mind is marriage,” she said slowly.

  “Ye are of age now. With your beauty and influence, ye can help usher in a new era of peace for our people.”


  “What will Mother say about this?” she asked, her mouth feeling dry.

  “I’ve already explained my plans tae her, and she’s persuaded tae my thinking.”

  Anabell looked away from him and focused on the tree that sat in the town’s center. Several people sat underneath it. They were happy and seemed oblivious to the cares of the world. But she knew everything would change if a hostile clan arrived. And instead of laughter and song, there would be cries and screams.

  “Will ye do as I say and marry James Cunningtoun?” her father asked, intruding in her thoughts.

  Anabell wanted to give her consent, yet something stopped her. To bring happiness to her clan, she needed to forgo her own contentment. Was this a sacrifice she was willing to make? As she pondered that question, the image of Blane flashed in front of her. Some naive part of her wished that she could marry someone she loved and who would love her in return. She fully believed that Blane could be this person. But her father had a different prospect for her.

  “Well?”

  “I — I have tae think about this,” she said.

  “Ye will make the right decision,” her father said confidently. “Although ye grew up among foreigners, ye still have the heart and spirit of a true MacNeadain.”

  Her lips moved to smile at his comment, but her heart felt hollow.

  She started to return to her grandmother when he stopped her. He wasn’t finished trying to convince her of his plan.

  “Ye must ken, Anabell, we’ve exhausted every option tae negotiate peace,” he said. “Some methods have worked; however, none have created lasting change. At this point, marriage is the only solution tae end our feud with Clan Cunningtoun.”

  His enthusiasm for the marriage alliance seemed to increase as he continued to paint a future filled with harmony and prosperity.

  “Ye are certain that this strategy will work?” she asked.

  “I’m most certain,” he said. “Any offspring ye produce with the Cunningtoun will solidify the unity of our clans. But if we dinnae have a binding alliance, I’m afraid the strife between our groups will continue for decades longer.”