Captivating A Highland Warrior (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance)

by Maddie MacKenna

  “Yes, I do… Well, I did, anyway, before I left,” Marion said slowly

  “What do you mean?” Deirdre pushed curiously.

  Marion was quiet for a moment, pondering how to respond. She hadn’t told Deirdre about how she came to know about her adoption. She hadn’t told her that she escaped in the middle of the night against her parents will, either.

  Deirdre had shown herself to be the very best friend one could possibly be. She hadn’t judged Marion once during her stay at Gille Chriost. On the contrary, she was her one and only ally, in all of Scotland and all of England, apparently. She doubted even Edith would have been able to be as supportive as Deirdre had been.

  “It is sort of a long story,” Marion finally said.

  “That’s all right, we have the whole day ahead of us,” Deirdre encouraged her.

  They had now reached the other end of the pasture and there was a high wooden wall in front of them. For Marion, it looked solid and she wondered how exactly Deirdre was going to get them to the other side.

  And as an answer to Marion’s unasked question, Deirdre walked over to the wall and pushed it gently. Two planks of wood moved away from her hand, revealing a narrow hole in the wall. They could both easily fit through it.

  Marion bowed her head and slid through the hole after Deirdre, who was holding the planks to the side. Behind the wall, Marion saw an ascending hill and moors that disappeared into the horizon. The view was breathtaking.

  In England, Marion was used to deep green, luscious pastures and meadows. In Scotland, these rocky moors had a certain roughness to their beauty. Marion couldn’t resist the unforgettable scenery in front of her, so she stopped and exhaled in awe.

  The warm wind was blowing from the south, sending Marion’s long hair twirling. She closed her eyes just for a second to feel the air on her face.

  “Are ye comin’?” Deirdre asked. She had stopped a few feet in front of her and was looking at Marion with an understanding expression.

  Marion smiled and followed after her.

  “They are pretty, aren’t they? The moors,” Deirdre asked and let her gaze look into the horizon as well.

  “They are breathtaking. There is nothing like this in England. It looks beautiful and rough at the same time. Like a flower growing out of granite,” Marion said, still amazed by the view.

  “I guess so. I wish I could see England someday. Now, enough about the geography. Tell me about yer betrothed, I’m sure ye have one,” Deirdre said. Marion had already hoped she’d have forgotten the whole subject.

  Marion told her everything. She talked about the Earl of Brookville, who was her betrothed. She explained that she, as a matter of fact, really liked the Earl and was grateful to her parents for making such a great match.

  “So I bet ye’re lookin’ forward to gettin’ back. To get married?” Deirdre said, honestly curious.

  “I can only hope that my parents will take me back after I return. Or that the Earl will,” said Marion, looking down at her shoes while they climbed up the hill.

  “What dae ye mean?” Deirdre wondered.

  “Well, this trip of mine wasn’t exactly… agreed upon.” Marion went on to explain how she had received the information about her real parents. She even included in her story that it was Edith’s idea to get a horse and leave. She told her everything about the journey all the way up to the point where Jack and his crew had scared her to death in the moors.

  Deirdre busted into hysterical laugh.

  “Jack—he scared ye? Really? He’s such a softie, that man. Sort of like me brother. Did ye ken they have known each other their whole lives? Those two were rascals their entire childhood, our poor parents,” Deirdre explained, and a flicker of a painful memory flashed upon her face.

  “I’m afraid I will only have to take your word for it. The Laird has yet to show me his soft side,” Marion said, trying to be casual.

  They had reached the top of the hill that descended very gradually on the other side. The entire side of the hill was filled with apple trees, growing next to each other.

  These apple trees were nothing like in England. Back home, the grew straight up and their trunks were light. They had a lot of leaves and they grew red apples.

  The trees growing along the hill were a lot smaller and the trunks were rough and dark. They didn’t grow straight up, either, but rather every which way. Like they were trying to grow towards the sun, barely managing on this rocky hillside.

  Marion grabbed an apple off the nearest tree and bit into it. It was sour but extremely juicy. For a moment, they picked apples into their baskets in silence.

  “Ye remember when I said some time ago that ye and me brother would make a great match,” Deirdre said, picking another apple.

  Marion furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her mouth. She remembered, but didn’t agree one bit. Deirdre seemed to notice this reaction but didn’t say anything. Instead, she continued.

  “He is, of course, engaged to Miss Beitris MacDheorsa, that little witch.”

  Marion’s curiosity piqued a little bit. She had never head Deirdre say anything unkind about anyone yet. Deirdre didn’t wait for Marion’s response.

  “Me brother is as stubborn as they come and he appears cold at times, but he really has a good heart. I bet ye would be the perfect match fer him,” she said, smiling gently.

  Marion had already grown to love Deirdre as her own sister, so she didn’t want to say anything that would hurt her feelings. Though Marion wanted to scoff loudly at this notion, she held her tongue.

  “I am sure he has very warm and kind feelings for you, Deirdre, and surely he cares for his family. Even if it were possible for the Laird and I to become a couple, I don’t think it would be a happy marriage. We are very different,” Marion said slowly, picking each word carefully.

  Deirdre didn’t seem concerned.

  “So, this Earl of Brookville. Ye like him. How dae ye recon ye would be happy together?”

  Marion was taken by surprise.

  “Well… He has a title that is very well respected. He is educated and a good dancer,” Marion listed.

  “Ye could have just been describing me brother,” Deirdre pressed on. “What else?”

  Thinking how to answer this question Marion had never asked herself before, made her surprised by the fact that she barely knew the Earl of Brookville at all.

  “Huh. You know, I guess I was so relieved that my parents picked a nice-looking young Earl to be my husband that I never really bothered to get to know him very well.”

  “Then why dae ye think me brother wouldn’t be suitable? Or that ye two couldnae be happy? Similarities attract and when ye’re a lot alike, a union can be expected to be pleasant if not outright happy,” Deirdre said.

  This time, Marion couldn’t muffle her derision anymore.

  “Deirdre, you know I love you very much, but you and your brother are nothing alike. Not to me, anyway. He is not only stubborn, but rude and badly mannered.”

  “But he does have a respected title, he is young and nice-lookin’ and he can dance. Thus far, ye have only seen his flaws. Ye would surely change yer mind if ye finally discovered the goodness of his heart,” Deirdre said and sat down on the ground, next to a bunch of lilac wildflowers. No doubt that the clan colors had gotten their inspiration from these delicate flowers growing outside of the town walls.

  Marion sat down next to her, picking a few flowers into a bunch one at a time.

  “I can only hope to see those good sides of his one day. However, it should not matter, regardless. He is engaged, after all, and I will return to my uncertain future in England as soon as I have found my parents,” Marion said, finishing the conversation.

  6

  At The Right Place At The Right Time

  Marion and Deirdre sat on a purple velvet couch side by side, each of them going through a big, dusty book of records. Marion was running her finger down a column of names written in fading ink. She looked at last na
mes that started with the letter M, just like was sewn on her tartan.

  All of a sudden, the library door opened with a creaking sound. Marion didn’t lift her head up from the book until she heard a familiar voice.

  “Sister, Lady Marion,” the Laird greeted them and pulled a stack of empty papers from one of the shelves. He sat down by a window, not ten feet away from the girls, and immersed himself into writing a letter.

  For a while, no one spoke. Deirdre was spelling out a name in the book and trying to furiously wipe away dust stains on the book leaf. As soon as the Laird had sat down across from her, Marion had felt a strange flutter in her stomach.

  When she was sure he wasn’t looking, she took the opportunity to look at him more carefully. His long dark hair was flowing next to his perfect face that looked like marble. Flawless. His lips were full and slightly pursed in concentration of his letter and he was slowly mouthing some words. He was well-built and muscular, and there was a certain grace about him when he moved.

  “Cannae get yer eyes off me can ye? Is me beauty so staggerin’?” he said sarcastically, not looking up from his letter. This made Marion wake up from her daze.

  “Do you know, Laird Gille Chriost, that humility is a virtue?” Marion snapped back, ashamed of her forwardness.

  “Virtue, eh? I’m sure there are many virtues that I fall short fer,” he said with a crooked smile on his face, still focusing on his letter. “I say, a high class Lady who rides across England by herself in a man’s saddle and curses out me men like a sailor… have ye looked at yer own virtues, me Lady ?” the Laird said curiously.

  That question shot like an arrow through Marion’s heart and she slammed the book shut. She shot a sharp glance at the Laird and spoke to Deirdre.

  “Deirdre, I believe it is time for me to make rounds in town again. The stuffy library air is giving me a headache.” She rose from her seat and left the room, headed towards the yard.

  She didn’t even wait for Deirdre, who had stayed behind to give her brother a good talking to about his behavior. Marion was grateful to be alone right now as she hurried through the castle towards the front doors.

  The Laird’s comment had hurt, but not because it was true. It hurt because she hadn’t thought of her good upbringing since that day she had stolen the apples from the Lady’s yard back in England. Ever since then, each day had gotten easier. She had been able to do things she had never thought of doing before. Little by little, the guilt of stealing, leaving, and acting like a common woman had lessened.

  Whenever she did something her mother wouldn't have approved of, she thought to herself, What would my mother say if she saw me now? But she soon pushed that thought out of her head, convincing herself that she had done the right thing. After all, she wanted to find her real parents and unravel the unknown secret that had shadowed her life all these years

  When she reached the front doors, she hesitated. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. Instead, she sat down on a bench in the hall.

  I hate him! Why does he have to be so rude and vile? What have I ever done to him?

  Marion tried to convince herself that she didn’t care about his opinion.

  Marion dried her tears that kept flowing down her cheeks. She exhaled deeply and decided it was time to continue the search. There were still a few people that came to the well every day that she hadn’t had a chance to speak with yet.

  She walked outside and enjoyed the warm rays of the sun. The day was bright, not a cloud in the sky. A slight summer breeze blew over her and she instantly felt a little lighter.

  Then, a piercing, high-pitched scream split the silence. In the corner of her eye, Marion saw a small boy of about 7 years old fall down from a castle window. He landed on his back on a slanting roof of the castle with a loud thud. He slid down towards the edge and for a moment, Marion thought she was going to witness this little boy’s death.

  Right before the edge, the boy managed to grab hold.

  “Help! Help me!” Marion heard him yell in a terrified voice. Around her, people started gathering about and pointing and screaming. The little boy’s mother came running through the crowd.

  “Oh Lord, me bairn! Jamie!” she yelled and ran towards him, as if she was going to catch him if he fell.

  “Hold on, Jamie! Daenae move!” a familiar husky voice yelled from above Marion.

  She saw the Laird run along the castle battlements towards the tower’s window of which the boy had fallen out. Jack was following the Laird, both running as fast as they could.

  Within a few seconds, they reached the tower and disappeared from view. And just as soon as they had disappeared, the Laird’s face appeared at the window.

  “Hold on tight, Jamie, I’m goin’ to get ye,” he said and swung himself on the window ledge.

  Marion saw Jack hold him, under the Laird’s muscular arms, and help him lower down towards the roof. As soon as his feet touched the slippery roof, he let go.

  The Laird lowered himself down on the roof, sliding carefully down inch by inch. Marion felt her heart racing and her hand flew on her throat.

  Please be careful.

  She quickly said a small prayer in her mind.

  He was now at a touching distance from the boy.

  “I’m gonna grab ye, Jamie, daenae move,” he said audibly. Marion heard Jamie let out a few sobs, but he didn’t move.

  Swiftly, he grabbed a hold of Jamie’s arm and pulled him upwards. Slowly, he pushed Jamie above himself and kept a hold of his legs while simultaneously pushing him upwards.

  There was no other way to get off the roof. They had to go back the way they had come from. He had reached the window and Jack was reaching his arms down towards them.

  “Give him here!” Jack yelled, reaching towards the Laird.

  The Laird carefully took a sturdy footing and stood up, holding onto the castle wall with his other hand. With the other, he easily and effortlessly swung Jamie on his shoulder.

  Jamie was now high enough that Jack could reach him and pull him to safety. In order to get the Laird off the roof as well, Jack had to go find a rope and two other men to help.

  Marion sighed with relief when she saw Jamie pulled back inside the castle. She exhaled deeply. It felt like she had been holding her breath the whole time.

  As she saw him waiting for Jack to return, she felt a flush of warmth inside her.

  Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. He risked his life to save a child that wasn’t even his own.

  Marion’s heart started racing again, but this time, for a different reason.

  “Marion! Marion!” Deirdre came towards her, running. “Is me brother all right?” she asked, out of breath.

  “Yes, he is in fine fiddle. Jack is helping him back up,” Marion replied, not taking her eyes off the fancily dressed Laird whom she had resented earlier.

  “Oh, thank the Lord. Marion, whatever’s the matter with ye? Ye look flushed,” Deirdre said.

  “Nothing, nothing, all is well. The sunshine is making my skin burn. Perhaps we should return to the castle and make sure your brother is all right,” Marion replied as Jack and the other men returned at the window to pull up the hero.

  Deirdre lead the way while babbling on about poor Jamie and his mother, who always had to save Jamie from trouble. Marion, however, didn’t hear half of what she said, because her thoughts were elsewhere.

  A sudden rush of warm and fluttering feelings had come over Marion in the yard and she was trying to make sense of them. It was apparent that the Laird wasn’t as vile as he had appeared. He had risked his life for Jamie, so there had to be something more lying underneath his hard shell. Maybe Deirdre had been right about the Laird’s good heart, after all.

  “Brother! Thank the Lord that ye’re all right!” Deirdre said and flew into his arms.

  “Aye, sister, nothin’ to worry yer little head about,” said the Laird, who had just showed up from behind the corridor bend.

  He lifted hi
s head and directed the warm gaze of his deep brown eyes to Marion. She didn’t turn away, but instead smiled shyly.

  “It appears that you may have some virtues, after all,” Marion said apologetically, and looked at him through her long eyelashes.

  “Daenae mention it. Just did what anyone else would’ve done,” he replied, with a warmer look in his eyes this time.

  * * *

  Fionnghall was on his bed, hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. The candles in the room made the shadows dance around him.