He had not yet been able to bring himself to talk to his father about it. As he dreamed of the conversation, he took out his frustrations on the bale of hay in front of him. It was the perfect shape and density to slash and poke with the sword. He loved his father too much ever to leave, yet the life of a soldier was one with the promise of adventure. He thrust the sword deep into the guts of the hay, before yanking it out. He would even settle for being a Castle blacksmith, something to disturb the life that he had now.
The sword had a keen blade and exceptional balance, the type of sword that would feel so natural in your hand, that you would not be able to fully appreciate just how expertly made it was. The sword was light and elegant as the blade caught the sunlight. Andrew twisted it in the bright sunshine, and almost did not see the Laird and his men approaching.
They were only a few hundred yards away when Andrew spotted them and ran back inside to wake his father. The front door was swung open wide, letting the sunlight cascade into the dim room, and Andrew would have tripped over his father if he had not been able to see him lying on the floor inside the door.
“Father!” Andrew screamed. He crouched down and turned his father from his front to his back. Adair lay there motionless and lifeless, his eyes were open but glazed over. There was a look of peace on his face as Andrew shook him, trying to wake the man who was now sleeping forever.
“Father!” He cradled his father in his arms, a man who once was a giant who would tower above him, and now felt so frail and weak. Andrew let the tears run down his cheek. That is how the Laird found him.
“What is goin’ on?” asked Laird Lochenbrew. “What have ye done?”
“What have I done!” screamed Andrew, momentarily forgetting who he was talking to. If it were anyone else, he would have lunged at him. Who was this man to think that he had done anything? Instead, he composed himself and looked up at the Laird, searching with his eyes and looking for help. “He was fine a minute ago. I just went outside tae test the sword. Ye have tae help him.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were plain and stern. “There is nothin’ more that can be done.”
“But ye have them fancy healers,” pleaded Andrew. “Ye have tae help me.”
“We’ll dae what we can,” said Laird Lochenbrew.
Still, Andrew looked up at the Laird and the men surrounding him, expecting one of them to reach down and wake his father, tell him that everything was going to be fine. He wanted that but knew that it would never come. He knew that there was nothing that the Laird could do, as powerful as he was.
His father was dead.
“I should've been there for him.” Andrew wiped the tears from his eyes. “I have tae tell someone. He didnae have much family, and a funeral, and the blacksmith shop, and I just wish that I had done better by him.”
He had felt like a man only a moment ago, pounding on the steel of the sword, and thrusting the blade into imaginary enemies, but the maturity slipped away. He was a boy again.
Andrew looked up at the Laird, the man who watched over the clan, and hoped for something to happen. The Laird stood with a stony and stoic look on his face. Andrew did not know what to say to the man.
“Is that my sword?” asked Laird Lochenbrew, finally breaking the silence.
“Aye.” Andrew had forgotten that he was still holding it.
“Ye can give that tae me,” ordered the Laird. “It is mine, after all.”
“Aye, of course.” Andrew stood up and handed over the sword. He wanted to look down at his father again but could not bring himself to look at the man who had raised him, lying dead on the floor.
The silence hung in the air.
“He had been sick,” said Andrew, the silence broken once more.
The Laird nodded.
“But, I didnae know that he was this sick,” said Andrew.
“Aye.” The words were impatient, the Laird had more important things to attend to.
Andrew wanted to cry, or shout, or run into the Laird’s arms. He wanted someone to tell him what to do. He wanted his father back.
“Ye’ll be fine,” said the Laird to Andrew before talking to his men. “Prepare the horses.”
“Aye, Me Laird.” They sprang into action immediately.
“Ye cannae go,” pleaded Andrew. “Please, ye have tae help me.”
“Ye will be fine.” The Laird folded his arms. “Yer a man now, Andrew. Yer time has come tae take over from Adair. He would want no other tae dae so.”
“Take me with ye,” blurted Andrew.
“What?”
“Take me tae the Castle, please.” Andrew was desperate to be taken from this place. He could not be here anymore.
“I dinnae understand,” said the Laird. “Ye have work tae dae here, Andrew.”
“After all of this, I cannae work here, not now. Let me work in the Castle. I can fight for ye. I know how tae use a sword. Send me off intae battle, I dinnae care.”
“We have enough fighters,” said the Laird.
“Ye always need more blacksmiths. I’ll work for little. I work hard and dinnae mess around. Ye’ll not regret it.” Andrew was grasping for anything that the Laird had.
“We have blacksmiths,” said the Laird. “Ye have a good life here, ye dinnae want tae work in the Castle, Andrew.”
“Please, Me Laird. I’m begging ye. I cannae work here, it’s not right. I need tae get out of this place. I’ll dae anythin’ for ye at the Castle.”
There was silence once again. Andrew stood looking up at the Laird. He could not breathe as he waited for an answer. The Laird looked down at the lifeless body of Adair on the floor and seemed to be considering the proposition. Andrew dared not speak.
“Take care of what needs tae be taken care of here, and then we’ll talk,” said Laird Lochenbrew.
“Thank ye. I won’t let ye down.” Andrew wanted to run over and shake the Laird’s hand.
Once more, the Laird stood there in silence, this time staring at Andrew.
“The horses, My Laird.” The Laird’s man had returned from outside, it was time to go.
The Laird nodded at Andrew and turned to leave the blacksmith shop.
Andrew felt a flutter in his chest. He knew that he could not stay in the place where his father had died and had enough determination to make the Laird proud of him. He had to be a man now and step up to deal with what had happened. There were things to organize, and people to contact. When everything was done, he would start a new chapter in his life.
1
Plans For Marriage
Gordontrent, England, 1707
Juliana watched as the butler walked past the library, peering in to see her sitting in the reading chair. She had a copy of the Iliad raised in front of her, the spine worn and creased. She looked up from the book in time to see Hastings pass before she went back to her reading.
She liked the Iliad, there was no doubt about it, but it was so dated now and did not contain as much adventure as she would like. She almost chuckled to herself as Hastings walked by none the wiser that she concealed a second book within the first.
Her father would call it uncouth, but she could not get enough. Her friend in the market would pass her the books in secret, and she would gobble them up at home, reading about great warriors from foreign countries, knights defeating barbarians, and the like. Juliana read on:
‘The great warrior swung his deadly blade and cleaved the barbarian in two. They were no more than animals, so he was doing them a favor. The blood gushed from the body as it fell to the ground, dead and lifeless. He had killed another of the barbarians who wreaked havoc on the village and would have his rewards.
The nameless warrior cleaned himself up in the crystal clear stream, washing the blood from his face. He could not help but admire his own handsomeness and went so far as to wink at himself. The warrior smiled and went off in search of the village. There would be gold, a feast, and beautiful women. He was one step closer to the barbarian king.�
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Juliana could not get enough. When she thought about the men in her life, they were so unlike the warriors in her books, that it was disheartening, not that anyone could ever live up to the great men that she read about. They were raw and strong.
Now that the Treaty of the Union had been signed, there were no more wars, not that she wanted them so close to home. No, she only dreamed of wars in faraway lands, with men thick like trees, only coming home once they had rid the world of evil, to claim their rightful prizes.
Juliana had bloomed into a rare flower. She was twenty-one years old, at an age when she would soon be married, and she knew that she would be sought after by the Lords in England. She had hair as black as the night, and it hung down almost to her waist. She tied it up in a braid to keep it neat. Those braids were not as neat as they used to be now that her mother was tying them and not a maid.
Her eyes were beautiful voids that caught your attention and drew you in. Juliana did not claim to be the most educated woman in the world, but she did have an allure that kept most men hanging on her every word. Once they became lost in her eyes, they were captivated for hours.
The only problem for Juliana was that she would never get to marry a warrior, not like the ones in her book. She wanted to get married more than anything in the world and dreamed of starting a life with a family of her own, but she only wished that real life could have a little more adventure to it. The struggle within her often kept her awake at night.
She could never tell her father that, of course. He was a man of tradition. There was a way to do things, and that was just how it would be. She could never tell him about the stories in her books. He would laugh at her and instruct her that the world is not like that.
No, she knew that she would marry a Lord, and he would be a good man. Her father would arrange everything, and she trusted him to choose a man that would suit her and take care of her. She would live out a happy life, with lots of fulfillment, and bring children into her family. Her life would be a good one, yet she could not help but dream of more.
Juliana closed the book. The warrior was just too handsome to read on. On top of that, the place was just too quiet. Her father had fallen on hard times, and business was slow, but that would change soon, it always did. She sighed and put the Iliad back on the shelf, hiding ‘The Handsome Warrior Who Saved A Kingdom’ beside it. She went off in search of her mother.
“Mother?” Juliana tapped lightly at the door to her mother’s room.
“Oh, my dear,” came the reply from inside.
“Can I come in?” asked Juliana.
“Please do.” There was a weariness in her mother’s voice that Juliana had become accustomed to.
Juliana slowly opened the door and found her mother lying on top of the bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. There was a look of hopelessness on her face.
“Mother, I hate to see you like this.”
“It has all been taken from us,” said her mother.
“We will be fine. Father knows what he is doing.”
“I do not know anymore.” Her mother shifted in the bed to find a more comfortable position. “My maids are gone, the footmen, the stables are in disarray. It is a wonder that we have been able to hang onto Hastings, but how much longer is he going to stay around?”
“Mother, you do make such a fuss. Do you remember the time when—”
“Juliana! You do not get it, do you? We are finished! The money is gone!” Her mother sat up in the bed and stared straight through Juliana. “I do not know what we are going to do, I really do not.”
“Mother, you are scaring me,” said Juliana.
She had gotten her beauty from her mother, who had been magnificent when she had married her father, but time had taken that beauty from her, that and the constant ups and downs of the family fortune. As she stared at her mother now, she almost did not recognize her. The words were not registering.
Juliana did not understand how everything could be lost. She only had to look around her to see the grandeur of their home. Sure, it was devoid of the staff that usually populated it, and that brought a quaint quietness to the house, but it was gratuitously decorated with grandeur.
She would take regular walks around the large house when the weather was not in agreement, and it would take an hour to visit every room, and when she did visit them, there was artwork, and statues, and tapestries, and hangings, and much, much more. She thought about telling her mother that, but it would make no difference when she got in a mood like this.
It has been nice to not have a maid pandering after me for the past six months. A lady should know how to look after herself, and I do. It will not be long until we regain what we once had, and will we not all be stronger for having gone through this again?
“Mother, please rest until dinner, and we can sit together and sort this whole thing out,” said Juliana.
“If there is anyone to serve it to us, or to cook it.”
“Mother, you are so dramatic. I am off to see Father this very instant, and I will see if he can convince you that we are going to be fine.” She had every confidence that this would be just like the previous times, when her mother had worried, unfoundedly.
Her mother said nothing more, looking at Juliana with a small hint of a smile. Juliana smiled at her mother and pulled the blanket up over her. Her mother had scared her for a moment there, but the whole world was a stage to her.
Her father was in his study, poring over what looked like very important papers. His small, round glasses were perched on his thin nose, and he peered over them from time to time, looking like he was trying to decipher a secret code on the papers in front of him.
Where her mother was dramatic and elegant, her father was serious and slight. He had pointed features and a face aged with hints of wrinkles. He was small and squirrelly, but as generous as they came. He had a look of coldness about him when he was absorbed in his business, but his temperament would change as often as the weather did. He had a head for business and a heart for people.
“Juliana,” he said when he noticed her standing in the doorway. “Is it time for supper already?”
“No, Father. I only wanted to come and see how you are.”
“Oh, fine, fine.” Her father was distracted, but beckoned for Juliana to come in. “As good as can be expected.” He took off his spectacles and laid them on the table in front of him.
“Mother is not taking this well,” said Juliana.
“No, she is not,” admitted her father, he had a slight look of concern on his face.
“But, you are not worried, are you?” asked Juliana.
“Me? No,” replied her father. “Not worried at all. We just need to…I mean, as long as—”
“As long as what, Father?”
“I have not made the wisest decisions.” He picked up the spectacles from the desk, turned them over in his hands, and replaced them in the same spot. “The money was tied up, and then it was not, and I moved it, and things are not what they once were, and…well, I do not need to bother you with the specifics of it.”
“So, Mother was right?” asked Juliana.
“It is my fault, and I must deal with it. If only—” he hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to continue.
“What, Father? What is it? Just tell me what I can do to help, and I will.”
“I am so glad to hear you say that.” Her father picked up the spectacles again, and they rested in his hands this time. “We just need a little time, and you are a woman now, and it would seem that the two are meant to be. I cannot force it on you, of course, but sooner or later—”
He trailed off again.
Juliana pulled down her dress and stood up a little straighter. She had known her father long enough to know when he was trying to say something and knew when to read between the lines. She always laughed at her father's non-subtlety when he thought he was treading elegantly around a subject.
I need to help my family, and if my marria
ge is the answer, then so be it. I knew that this day would come sooner or later. I will be like the warrior who steps up to save his kingdom, only I am stepping up to save my family, and I will not have to do any of the barbaric stuff. I will only have to make a home and start a family.
“I will do it,” said Juliana, standing up straighter.
“I beg your pardon?”
Juliana laughed.
“Oh, Father. I do believe that I have more of an idea as to what you are proposing than you do.” A smile crossed her face, he could be so oblivious at times.
“Yes, yes, I am sure that you do,” he said. “You always have had an intelligence that I cannot keep up with, and a wisdom that I only aspire to.”
“Well, it is clear to me where I got that from.” She smiled at the proud man before her.
He beamed back at her with all the love in the world.
“I am sorry that it has to be done like this,” admitted her father. He finally put his spectacles back on.
“It does not matter. It is for the good of the family.” Juliana felt the courage rise inside of her.
“You really are the most amazing person,” said her father. “I am waiting to hear, and I expect a letter to arrive tomorrow. If everything goes as planned, this will ensure all of our futures.”
* * *
“Lord Gordontrent wishes to see you.” Hastings stood back straight and arms by his side as he enunciated every word.
“Thank you, Hastings,” said Juliana. “I will be right there.”
Juliana had been nervous all through the night and all morning. Yesterday, the prospect of marriage had seemed the right thing to do and was almost exciting, but that excitement was turning to butterflies in her stomach.
She would not know the Lord that she was to wed, and that brought dread and joy. He could be anyone. She wondered what he would look like, how he would act, what type of a man he was. She hoped that he was handsome, not that it was the most important thing; she only wanted someone that she could start a family with.
Awakening His Highland Soul (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 30