Daring the Highlander: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Kendall, Lydia

  When she looked up, her mouth filled with toast, it was to find Anne staring at her. Rather than leaving the room as she normally did while Bernadine ate, she gently sat down on the bed, careful to avoid Bernadine’s legs as she settled herself on the bedcovers.

  “Madame…” she began, looking strangely nervous. Anne was never nervous. She was the most confident and straightforward woman Bernadine had ever met. It was what she most liked about the maid, in fact. To see Anne looked so unsure was unsettling, to say the least. Almost as unsettling as the fact that Bernadine was apparently enceinte.

  “Yes?” Bernadine asked, taking a sip of her tea before setting the cup back down on her tray.

  “Are you?” she asked, looking at Bernadine questioningly.

  “Am I what?” Bernadine asked with a laugh that was clearly forced.

  “Are you with child?” Anne asked, emphasising the phrase. “You can tell me. I will not share the secret with anyone. But I need to know. So that I can take care of you.”

  The woman looked so achingly earnest that Bernadine blurted the news out without further preamble.

  “Yes!” she cried. “At least, I think so,” she added, explaining her symptoms to Anne, as well as the circumstances that made her suspect her condition. She left out the more intimate details, trying to preserve her own modesty, though that seemed rather a lost cost at this point. It was clear she had given herself to Donnan before their wedding.

  Anne nodded silently as Bernadine spoke, waiting until she was finished before responding.

  “Your father cannot know,” were Anne’s first words, and they made Bernadine’s blood run cold. Her father. She hadn’t even thought of what this news might do to him. Bernadine had barely wrapped her head around her condition and already she had more to worry about than she had anticipated.

  Weren’t women in her condition supposed to avoid anything anxiety inducing? With her family dynamics in their current state, there was little chance of that happening.

  “I can help you hide it, at least for a while. But eventually, you will start to show,” Anne said, frowning. “When is Donnan coming to rescue you?” she asked.

  Bernadine had informed her maid of her plan as soon as she returned. She needed the woman’s help in helping her present a placid front to her father that would convince him she was resigned to her fate.

  “Three months. A little less now, actually,” Bernadine said. She was counting down the days until she saw her love again, consoling herself with the fact no matter how agonizing their time apart, soon they would be reunited, once and for all. But that plan hinged on Bernadine pleasing her father, and the man was most certainly not going to be pleased when he saw her with a rounded belly and all that it implied.

  Anne seemed to sense what she was thinking, for she nodded and said, “Yes, you will most likely be showing by then. But with some jackets and shawls I think we could hide it for some time. Never underestimate the functionality of fashion, Madame.”

  Bernadine smiled at that, at how Anne was taking this in stride. She was so calm, so collected, that Bernadine could not help but feel that perhaps they could pull off such a ruse. After all, how hard was it to hide a pregnancy?

  Chapter 31

  Lord Nibley was in his study, attempting to read Jonathan Swift’s A Battle of Books, and failing miserably, when his footman, James, knocked on the door and stepped inside.

  After seeing how fearful James had become of him since that day he had shouted at him, Lord Nibley had decided to capitalize on that fear. He had made James his personal spy within the household, and James was only too glad, or perhaps too cowed, to comply. In return for his services, James was treated to the privilege of interrupting Lord Nibley whenever and wherever he deemed it necessary.

  “Only with important news, mind,” Nibley had told the boy, and thus far the young lad had kept to his word, stepping into Nibley’s study and library only when he had urgent news to impart.

  And now seemed such an occasion, for no sooner had James shut the door than he spoke in a rush, as though he could not bear to keep the words to himself a moment longer.

  “Lord Nibley, I have most troublin’ information to share with you, sir,” he said in his thick East London accent.

  Closing his book, Lord Nibley nodded and gestured for the boy to continue. “All right, then. Out with it,” he said impatiently.

  “Your daughter is with child,” James told him.

  Nibley shook his head, confused. Surely he couldn’t have heard the lad right? Those words didn’t make sense together in a sentence. His daughter? With child?

  “I apologize, James, but I do not believe I heard you correctly. Could you repeat what you just said?”

  James looked uncomfortable but nodded and did as he was told.

  “Your daughter is with child,” he said again, this time emphasizing the last two words.

  For a moment after that, Lord Nibley’s mind went perfectly blank. It was a blissful blankness where no anger, no rage, no emotion whatsoever penetrated. But it did not last, for a second later his mind erupted in thoughts, a thousand of them coagulating to form a large explosion of worry and anger that went straight to his heart.

  As the footman stood watching, Lord Nibley slumped in his chair, his hand coming to his chest, clutching the silk material of his waistcoat just over his cardiac organ. He sputtered, his breath coming in short bursts, and then, suddenly, everything went black. Pain was all he felt, all he was.

  He didn’t hear James shout, didn’t see all the servants rush into the room, one screaming to get the doctor, another calling for cold water and a cloth, a third yelling to get Miss Nibley and Miss Guinevere at once. He didn’t hear any of it, because Lord Nibley was unconscious.

  * * *

  “I dinnae ken if I can do it, Me Laird,” Camdyn said, shaking his head in protest.

  “’Course you can, lad. I believe in ye,” Donnan said. And it was true, he did. After hearing what Camdyn had struggled through these last two months, Donnan thought Camdyn one of the strongest young lads he had ever met.

  He had been through so much at his young age. Donnan knew he was well able for this one last fight before it all ended, before his life returned to what it had been before the mysterious criminal had accosted him in the fields that fateful afternoon. He was only sorry he hadn’t been able to help the boy sooner, but there was no time for remorse. Not with what they were planning, all his focus needed to be on Camdyn.

  “Me and me men will be right behind ye, lad. We will follow ye to the caves, be right behind ye the whole way. I ken ye’re scared to tell those men that ye won’t move any more sacks until ye see yer family, but I promise ye, no harm will come to ye or yer kin. We just need to see where these criminals are keepin’ yer family, so we can rescue them, get them somewhere safe. So ye can see them again.”

  Camdyn nodded, looking less nervous as Donnan reminded him of the point of their mission: to see his family. He could tell the lad missed them so. “Aye. And ye ‘ll be able to, Me Laird? Ye ‘ll be able to get them to safety? Nothin’ will go wrong? What if –” he began, but Donnan cut him off. He did not want the lad to start worrying, start listing off all the things that could go awry. It would do neither of them any good.

  “Aye, lad. It’s a promise, and I always keep me promises,” he said. Of course, the moment the words were out of his mouth, he thought of another promise he had made, to Bernadine.

  Dinnae think about that now, Donnan chastised himself. Thinking of Bernadine, about two and a half months they still had apart thanks to his failed rescue, would only distract him right now. He could not dwell on failures, not if he wanted tonight to be a success. He couldn’t let his fear, his guilt, divert him from his plans. There were too many lives depending on him.

  Donnan looked at the clock in his study and stood up. It was almost nine o’clock, and Camdyn had told him they would need to be at the caves no later than nine thirty if they were to catch the s
mugglers. Apparently, the men kept to a tight schedule, and they could not afford to miss them. The criminals were integral players in the plan.

  “It’s time to go, lad,” Donnan said, offering Camdyn a hand up. The lad took it and followed Donnan out of the study, his steps quick with nervous energy.

  Donnan had instructed his men to meet them where the sacks of grain were stashed. Seamus and three others of his best men were waiting by the shrubs, their kilts swaying slightly in the spring breeze that was blowing through the grounds. The moon was bright in the sky, offering them good light to lead their way to the beach. It was a calmer night than the one when he had followed Camdyn, and Donnan took that as a good sign.

  “Dinnae worry, Camdyn,” Seamus said, clapping the lad on the back as they began to make their way around the castle and toward the shore. “We’ve handled situations far worse than this one. Smugglers are nothin’ compared to what we’ve dealt with in the past. Could practically do this with me eyes closed, righ’ Donnan?” he asked, peering past Camdyn toward where Donnan was walking slightly ahead of the group.

  “Aye,” he replied, nodding his head. “A smuggler doesnae scare me, lad. Not after the battles I ‘ve won, the warriors I’ve fought against.”

  Donnan had imagined that the smugglers in question would large, burly lads, capable of enforcing punishment when need be. He was rather shocked, therefore, when he and his men approached the cave and saw shadows indicating that there were three slight lads, looking no taller and heavier than Camdyn, ambling about the cave.

  “How many are there?” Seamus whispered in his ear.

  “Three,” Donnan replied, drawing back into the safety of the cave’s outer wall. Camdyn and the rest of the men were crouched there in front of him and to his side, waiting for his signal.

  “All right,” Donnan said, kneeling on the sand so he was level with the men. “Camdyn, ye ‘re to go in and get straight to the point. Dinnae give them time to fight with ye. Just tell them ye need to see yer family, and then walk straight out of the cave. They’ll follow ye, and we’ll be right on yer tail.”

  Camdyn nodded, his face hardening, preparing himself for the task ahead.

  Donnan watched as the lad stood up and walked into the cave with confidence he was fairly sure the boy did not feel. His shouted demands could be heard all the way where Donnan and the men were crouching, the ocean and wind quiet enough that the words carried clearly to them.

  “I’ll not move another sack until I see me family. Ye ‘ve kept them from me for weeks, and I willnae stand for it a minute longer. Take me to them. Now!” Camdyn shouted.

  Donnan smiled, impressed with the lad’s fortitude.

  A minute later, he saw Camdyn walked out of the cave, the three thin men at his heels.

  “Go!” Donnan whispered to his men, and slowly, quietly, they all stood up from the sand and followed Camdyn and the smugglers.

  The house that Camdyn’s family was being held in turned out to be a rudimentary shack a mile’s trek from the caves. It was set back from the ocean, but not far enough that the tide could not flood its floors when the water went high enough.

  Donnan grimaced thinking of how cold and wet Camdyn’s family must be. No doubt they had all caught chills and were shivering despite the relative warmth of the air that night. Did they have blankets? Food? Water? A chamber pot? Somehow, Donnan doubted it, and he shuddered thinking of their poor living conditions.

  He would put them in the best cottage on his lands when they were rescued. It was the very least he could do.

  Focus on the mission, Donnan reminded himself, shaking off his worries as he crouched lower in the beach grass that he and his men were using for cover. They were only a few feet away from the shack, and the moonlight was good enough that when the smugglers opened the door, Donnan caught a glimpse inside. It was even worse than he suspected.

  His view was soon blocked by Camdyn’s head, which was leaning into the shack, the rest of his body trying to follow. The smugglers held him back, their combined strength easily overpowering his.

  “Camdyn!” a female voice cried. The crying of a baby soon followed, its screech making Donnan wince with displeasure.

  Och, they’ve got a babe in there? He was surprised it was still alive after what the family had been through. What kind of monster would make a babe live in those conditions?

  “There, ye ‘ve seen them!” one of the smugglers yelled, slamming the door and bolting it shut, barely waiting for Camdyn to step out of the way first.

  “Now get back to movin’ those sacks!” another one yelled, shoving Camdyn away from the shack.

  Donnan saw the lad take one last look at the shack before turning around and following the smugglers back to the cave. He kept his distance from the three men in front of him, however, his eyes scanning in the dark, clearly looking out for Donnan and his men. When their eyes finally met, Donnan gave him a wink. Camdyn smiled slightly, looking relieved as he walked away.

  When the lad and the smugglers were finally out of sight, Donnan turned to his men, still crouched down in the grasses.

  “All right. Who’s going to run back to the castle for axes?”

  Donnan was fairly certain that one good thwack with a sharp blade would be all that was necessary to tear that shack down. And then, when the family was safely ensconced in the castle, he could turn his attention to the evil bastard who had put them there in the first place.

  Chapter 32

  “I dinnae want to hurt ye, but that doesnae mean I won’t,” Donnan told the three smugglers sitting in front of him.

  They were tied to their chairs, looking distinctly uncomfortable as the thick rope rubbed against their arms and legs. Donnan had made the lads take their shirts off, worried they might have stashed weapons underneath them. He hadn’t been right and was now treated to the sight of their thin, pale chests shining in the candlelight.

  Their ribs were clearly visible under their skin; they were thinner even than Camdyn when he had first come to the castle, looking as though they had not eaten in weeks. Donnan suspected their involvement in the smuggling operation was less to do with choice and more to do with necessity. Without the ill-gotten money, he doubted they would have been able to feed themselves at all, judging on their looks. They looked near to starving.

  But though they were slight, they were shrewd. They must have sensed something was amiss, for they had not returned to the cave the night after meeting with Camdyn. Donnan and his men had waited by the caves from dusk until dawn for two nights, and only on the third did the men reappear.

  They’d been easy enough to capture after that, their slight bodies easy to carry to the castle once they were tied up. They were quiet, too, though this was less desirable. They hadn’t spoken but for a few shouts of displeasure since their capture. Donnan had been trying to get them to confess who their leader was for the last hour with little success. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and running out of patience. He did not want to resort to violence to get the truth out of them, but if it meant he could retire to his study with a dram of whisky sooner than midnight, he was not opposed to using his fists.

  Thankfully, however, there was no need to draw out his dirk. The men must have seen that he was nearing his wit’s end, because the one on the left, the largest of the lot, finally opened his mouth a few minutes later.

  “Marcus Payne,” he said quietly.

  “Ye’ll have to speak a fair bit louder than that if I’m to hear ye,” Donnan bit back, moving toward the lad.

  “Marcus Payne,” the boy said again, slower and louder. “He’s our leader. He’s yer man, the one who organizes the shipments, the one who tells the merchants where to find the malt. He’s the head of the whole operation.”

  “Marcus Payne?” Donnan said. He was surprised. He had heard the man’s name from time to time. He was a common criminal known in those parts for petty theft and general disorderliness. Payne was banned from all the local tavern
s for not paying for his ale, and the castle guards had thrown him out of the grounds more than once for sneaking in and trying to steal livestock.

  Marcus was the son of Donnan’s mother’s lady’s maid, a flighty woman and an unsatisfactory worker who had run off soon after the laird and lady died. The castle had been in far too big an uproar to do much about her disappearance, and Donnan had not heard talk of her in over a decade. He knew she had disappeared into a neighbouring town to raise her bairns, Marcus among them, and live with drunkard of a husband, but that was all he knew of her.

  But she must still be alive or had been for long enough to share a few choice secrets with her bairns. Suddenly, Donnan knew how the secret passage from the caves to the castle had been discovered. Donnan realized, putting the pieces together. During the raids, his parents had advised all their servants of the passageway in case a quick escape needed to be made. Emilia must have remembered this and told her son, who thought the passage perfect for smuggling malt after the taxes were put in place.