A Knight for her Highland Heart: A Historical Scottish Highlander Romance Novel

by Barbara Bard

  “The Sassenach look fer us…They want us all gone.”

  “And it will nae happen. Ye maist stay strong.”

  Ava was on the verge of tears from the pain. “I…I will be alright?”

  Wallace nodded. “Aye. Ye just need tae rest.”

  It took Ava a moment, but she finally fell into a slumber. As soon as she did, Wallace left the room and whispered to his wife Gellis : “Fetch the weapons from the cabinet.”

  “Is all well, me love?” Gellis said.

  “Fer now. But I hae a bad feeling.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because a warrior just informed me that war is upon the horizon…And I think her words speak the truth.”

  Gellis did as Wallace complied, fetching a pair of swords before waiting at Ava’s side and eagerly anticipating the arrival of the Sassenach that they just knew were lingering right around the corner.

  Chapter 22

  Lord Torstein shot awake. His tunic clung to his chest from the excessive perspiring that occurred as a result of a nightmare. His breathing was heavy, his eyes darting around the room in suspicion. It took him a moment to settle and realize that he wasn’t, as his nightmare had suggested, on the field of battle, battling an army of Sir Jessups and Lord Henrys that had somehow multiplied like the living dead. It was a vivid dream, one that felt so real that it took him a few turns to finally shake.

  Lord Torstein sat up, removing his tunic and throwing it on the floor with a hard and wet smack. He stood, pacing as he tossed a glance at Eirlys and saw that she was still sound asleep on her cot. After a moment, she awoke, turning her gaze up at Lord Torstein. “What is wrong?” she asked.

  He waved her off. “Nothing,” he said. “It was just a bad dream.” He sat back down on his cot, running his hands through his damp hair and still finding it difficult to shake off his nightmare.

  Eirlys stood, wandering over to a table where the innkeeper had left them several supplies. She took a rag and soaked it in a bowl of cool water and brought it over to him. “Here,” she said as she began dabbing at his neck and forehead. “Ye are overheated…”

  Lord Torstein breathed easy once the coolness of the rag touched his skin. Eirlys’s light touch was a welcome reprieve, and for a moment he looked at her longingly like he did to his deceased wife so many nights ago when she offered him solace.

  “What was yer dream aboot?” Eirlys inquired.

  It took Lord Torstein a moment to muster the courage to retell the tale. “I was on the field of battle,” he began. “I was alone. I had only myself and my sword. Over the horizon, a barrage of men on horseback started marching toward me. At first, they looked like my fellow countrymen. But the closer they drew; I saw them all bearing the face of Lord Henry and Sir Jessup. All of them. It…it made no sense. They charged faster, attacking me from all sides. I was able to slay several of them before more continued to come over the hill. Relentless. Unceasing. No end in sight. Eventually…” he sighed, “Eventually they cornered me…and they started stabbing me to death, laughing as they did so…And then I awakened…”

  Lord Torstein shook his head, looking away as if the fallout from the dream would dissipate if he did so.

  “It is only a dream,” Eirlys assured him. “All is well. Ye are here. Safe.”

  “For now. It is only a matter of time before Sir Jessup and his men discover us.” He shook his head again. “There will be no end to this. There is no way that this ends without our total and utter destruction.”

  “I refuse tae believe that,” Eirlys said. “It is too pessimistic of thinking.”

  Lord Torstein grabbed her delicately by the arms. “We should flee,” he said.

  She squinted. “We are.”

  “No…No, I mean far from here. From the Highlands. From all of it. We could keep running. We could never look back. I am not saying that we are to be together. No, not at all. I just…” He couldn’t find the rest of the words to adequately describe his feelings.

  “I cannae dae that,” Eirlys said as she continued to dab at his neck. “I hae family. Friens. Responsibilities.”

  “And how long until they are all struck down by my countrymen? Days? Weeks? Hours?”

  Eirlys hung her head. She knew Lord Torstein’s words to be true. There was only so far they could go and only so long they could wait before the inevitable wrath of the Sassenach came down upon their heads.

  “Where would we gae?” she asked.

  Lord Torstein shrugged. “I do not know. But staying here will lead to nothing but more pain and sorrow. Everything that my people touch withers and dies. We will only find ourselves amongst the ranks of the dead if we stay and wait.”

  Eirlys debated what she should do. There were so many people dependent on her. But those she was closest to had been killed or lost to sickness. It felt as if every day the things she held dearly were being taken away from her. She wondered how much longer she would be able to hold on before the last vestiges of her life were robbed from her.

  Eirlys stood, pacing and feeling herself on the cusp of making a decision. “When would we leave?” she asked.

  Lord Torstein stood. “Now. Tonight. We go as fast and as far as we can. We never look back.”

  “We cannae stay together. I dinnae fancy ye in that way.”

  “Neither do I, my friend. My long-lost wife still holds the key to my heart.”

  “Then where? Where would we go?”

  He sighed. “I would return home. To England. To my children. I do not have a solid plan in place, but that is where I would start.”

  “And what of me? I cannae gae tae that land. Surely, they will kill me.”

  “Perhaps not. Maybe there is a way we can convince my people that you are one of us. It will not be easy, but it is possible.”

  Eirlys thought some more. “A life in England,” she said, skeptical, “with the Sassenach? I dinnae ken if I could stomach such a proposal.”

  “Our options are limited. I do not believe we have the luxury to be picky. But you can have a life there. A good life. I have allies that will assist in us transitioning into that life.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “We cannot stay here. You know this…”

  Eirlys took her time. She knew that the moment had arrived for her to make the most important decision she would ever make. Holding her head high, she looked Lord Torstein in the eye, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Aye,” she said. “Then we shall gae. Together.”

  Lord Torstein smiled. Moments later, he fetched the innkeeper and told him of their plan. A half-hour later, the innkeeper, having fetched a pair of horses for them to use for their journey, offered them a satchel of goods to sustain them for their ride. “Continue tae ride south,” he said. “I hae a frien there that will assist ye. He kens of a man. That man has a boat. He will be able to help ye formulate a plan tae return tae England.”

  Lord Torstein offered his hand. “You have always been a good friend,” he said to the innkeeper. “And I wish you well in your journey.”

  The innkeeper shook Lord Torstein’s hand. “Godspeed, me frien.”

  With that, Lord Torstein and Eirlys began their ride south, their hearts beating hard and fast as they rode and prayed that they would make it to their destination before Sir Jessup and his army had a chance to catch up. They knew, as they rode together, that the next few days would determine the very course of their lives.

  Sir Jessup learned that the lead knight, sent by the king, went by the name of Marcus. Sir Jessup could tell from the man’s garb and demeanor that he had never before been in battle. He was merely a messenger, pampered by a life of luxury that came from his rich lineage as he sat at a table in the dining hall and conversed with his men.

  Sir Renly, seated beside Sir Jessup, whispered in his ear: “What a fool. This man has never before taken up the sword. Look at his garb. Look at his steel—it is unsullied.”

  Sir Jessup nodded. “The king insults us sending this man here. I do not understa
nd.”

  “I worry, my friend. I fear that the king has ulterior motives at play.”

  A shrug. “I am not surprised. We have taken too long in this campaign. The king grew impatient, so he sends this…pampered fiend to do his bidding.”

  Sir Jessup then felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and found himself laying eyes on one of his messenger’s, a loyal lad by the name of John.

  “Sir,” John said. “Might I speak with you and Sir Renly for a moment?”

  Sir Jessup gestured to his half-eaten meal in front of him. “Can it not wait?”

  John shook his head, his eyes wide with intention as he tossed a glance in Marcus’ direction.

  Sir Jessup and Sir Renly looked at one another for a moment before standing and following John into the hall just outside the dining room, a cramped space lit only by the single dull glow of a torch.

  “What is it?” Sir Jessup inquired.

  John drew an anticipatory breath. “The knight that was sent here,” he said. “The one they call Marcus.”

  “What of him?”

  John took another moment. “I believe…” he said. “I believe he has been sent to kill you, Sir Jessup. You and Sir Renly.”

  Sir Jessup and Sir Renly puffed their chests.

  “And what,” Sir Renly said, “are you basing this knowledge off of?”

  “Marcus,” John said, “is part of a clan of knights that the king has been grooming as assassins.”

  “Ha!” Sir Jessup remarked. “Marcus? An assassin? I would not trust him to prepare a meal, much less kill a man.”

  “Yes, I agree. But I spoke with another one of the knights.”

  “Which? One of ours?”

  “Yes. I conversed with Fredricks. He had heard rumors of the king’s squad of assassins. He says he knew of Marcus back in England, that Marcus was always eager to prove himself and live a life as one of us.”

  “As one of us?” Sir Renly said, squinting.

  “Marcus,” John said, “has always fancied himself as a killer, though he very much is not. According to Fredericks, he believes that Marcus has been sent by the king to slay you and take up the mantle of leading the campaign.”

  Sir Jessup didn’t want to believe it—but he heard nothing but the truth in John’s words. He then turned to Sir Renly and said: “What do you think?”

  Sir Renly, gritting his teeth, was also invested in John’s theories. “It makes sense,” he said. “I have heard of Marcus before. Always trying to prove himself. He must have proposed this idea to the king himself. His father holds a high position back in England.” A laugh. “I would not be surprised if this was his way of attempting to prove himself, as John has stated.”

  Sir Jessup took a moment and peeked around the corner at Marcus, still regaling his men with illustrious stories of war and battle that were most likely tales that he stole from someone else. Then Sir Jessup spotted it—the dagger in Marcus’ belt.

  Sir Jessup turned to John. “What if you are wrong?”

  “The possibility exists,” John said, “but I would put my life on the line as a bet that what I have proposed will most certainly come true.”

  A moment passed. Sir Jessup then patted John on the back. “Thank you, my good man. Return to your meal. I will discuss this matter with you more later.”

  John nodded, turned, and left. Sir Jessup then pulled Sir Renly further down the hallway. “There is only one way to confirm what John has proposed.”

  “And what does that look like?” Sir Renly inquired.

  Sir Jessup thought for a moment. “Tell Marcus,” he said, “that I wish to meet him in my quarters after the meal. Make sure you are there, but do not let your presence be known. I will see for myself if what John has stated is true.”

  Sir Renly furled his brow. “And if it is? What then, Jonathan?”

  Sir Jessup drew a deep breath. “Well,” he said, “if I confirm what has been said—I will dispatch of Marcus swiftly. There will be no loved lost for a pithy rich boy like him.”

  Chapter 23

  Finlay could hear the approaching hoof beats off in the distance and knew instantly that it was Gavina and the Bairdsmen. “Isla!” he called out, his wife rushing to his side. “I think yer sister has returned.”

  They rushed out of the cottage and saw all of their warriors, minus two, approaching them with haste and a fevered look in their eyes. The horses stopped a few feet shy of Finlay and Isla, Gavina dismounting her horse quickly and rushing into her sister’s arms.

  “Gavina,” Isla said, holding her sister tight like it had been years since she had seen her last. “I worried of ye so.”

  Gavina sighed. “I am alright. I am here.”

  They held the hug for several long moments. Finlay looked around and saw that Ava was nowhere to be found. “Where is she?” he asked. “Where is Ava? Where is Glenn?”

  Gavina broke the hug with Isla and turned to Finlay. “We maist talk,” she said. “An incredible amount has happened.”

  A stable boy took the horses and brought them into the stables. The Bairdsmen followed Gavina into Finlay and Isla’s cabin. They sat, taking a moment to breath as Isla fetched them water and food.

  “What happened?” Isla asked. “What has happened tae Glenn?”

  Lachlan shook his head. “Sir Jessup,” he said, “ambushed us at the tavern. His men overwhelmed us. We barely escaped with our lives.”

  Finlay closed his eyes. “I knew this would happen…”

  “Where is Ava?” Isla inquired again.

  “She was wounded,” Gavina said. “Just yesterday. We were hunting when we were surrounded by a group of thieves. They were dispatched of, but Ava was tae wounded tae ride.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Not far fae here,” Tessa said. “An older couple took her in. She is about a half-day’s ride fae our location. She is mending. She will live.”

  Isla turned to Finlay. “Perhaps we should send someone tae fetch her.”

  Finlay nodded. “In due time, me love.” He sat across from Gavina. “But I wish tae ken mair aboot what happened at the tavern.”

  Gavina drew a breath as she prepared to tell the tale. “We were discussing the terms of peace,” she said. “Not long after, Sir Jessup’s men came in and attempted tae take us prisoner. We fought our way out. We barely survived.”

  “And what of Glenn? What happened tae him? And what happened tae Lord Torstein?”

  Gavina hung her head. “Sir Jessup took Lord Torstein and Glenn with him. We dinnae ken of their fate.”

  Finlay pounded his fist on the table in front of him. “That bastard Sir Jessup,” he said. “I ken that we should nae have trusted this arrangement.”

  “What is done is done,” Isla said. “All that matters are finding Glenn and Ava and bringing them back.”

  Finlay diverted his gaze to Christian, staring at him as if he were responsible. “What dae ye ken of this, Christian?”

  Christian squinted. “I knew nothing of the ambush. Neither did Lord Torstein.”

  “Ye are sure?” Isla said.

  Christian could sense the disdain and felt his nerves on edge. “I did not know this was going to happen. I swear it.”

  “Yet ye survived,” Finlay said. “And ye are back here in our village.”

  Gavina could sense the dire direction the conversation was going and held up her hand. “This is nae Christian’s doing. He attempted tae save me life, mair than once.”

  “None of this matters,” Lachlan interjected. “We maist find Glenn

  and bring him back. God only kens what is happening tae him as we speak.”

  “Where is he?” Finlay asked Christian.

  “I suspect that Sir Jessup is holding him at the castle,” Christian said.

  “And ye ken of where this is?”

  “Yes. And I also suspect that Lord Torstein is with them. Sir Jessup exchanged more than a few heated words with him at the tavern. With me, as well.”


  Finlay nodded. “Then we maist formulate a plan.” He looked at Gavina. “I want ye and the Bairdsmen tae rest. We shall figure out our next move and then gae fae there.”

  Isla nudged Finlay on the arm. “I maist speak with ye,” she said in a whisper. “Outside. Noo.”

  Finlay followed his wife outside and stood a few feet from the cabin. “What is on yer mind?”

  Isla nodded inside the cabin. “Christian,” she said, low so that only Finlay could hear her words. “He somehow survived all of this. It does nae sit well with me.”