A Highlander Marked by Fate: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Kirklinton Book 3)

by Kenna Kendrick

  “I want to see the lass in the infirmary,” Rory said forcefully, as the three of them made their way out of the refectory.

  “We shall all go,” their uncle said, leading the way across to the infirmary door.

  Brother Callum looked up as they entered, raising his finger to his lips and imploring them to be quiet.

  “She is sleepin’ now,” he whispered, coming to meet them, “we were able to revive her a little, and I think by the mornin’ she will be well enough to leave. She cannae stay here, especially if the English will be lookin’ for her, killin’ a soldier is a nasty business. The prior has said that we must nae be involved in the conflicts across the borders. If tis’ discovered that she is here, well …”

  Duncan nodded, turning to Rory, who peered over the woman’s bed. She was sleeping soundly, and some of the color had returned to her cheeks. He was desperate to know who she was, to sit with her, and gaze upon her, but to wake her would be cruel, and instead, he nodded, stepping back out into the corridor.

  “Callum is right. She cannae stay here with us,” Duncan said.

  “But we cannae just send her on her way. She rescued us. That has to mean somethin’, and I cannae just leave this mystery unsolved,” Rory replied.

  “Then take her to Kirklinton,” Owen said, “I am sure that mother will take good care of her. Evie too. If ye explain that she saved yer life. Ye owe her that much.”

  Rory agreed. He could not see the woman sent away, and she was not well enough to be allowed to go on her way without further care. Kirklinton would be the perfect place to take her, a place of refuge and safety where she could recover.

  “Aye, tomorrow I shall take her back, and perhaps she will tell me more about who she is,” he replied.

  “I shall be interested to hear, myself,” Duncan replied, as the bell began to toll for compline.

  “There are quarters prepared for ye above, brother. Will ye come and pray with us now?” Owen asked, but Rory shook his head.

  “Nay, I am tired now and tis’ yer job to pray, Owen. Mine is to find a wife, as ye so forcibly put it,” he said, patting his brother on the shoulder.

  “Goodnight, Rory,” Owen said, shaking his head, as he and their uncle made their way towards the church.

  Rory was left alone outside the infirmary, his mind still full of questions about the mysterious woman lying within. Would she tell him more about herself as they returned to Kirklinton? Would she even be willing to go? He could not rid himself of her image; it filled his mind; her beauty enchanting him.

  Making his way up the stairs to the guest quarters, he paused by a window to listen to the sounds of the monks chanting their nighttime office. The moon was just appearing above the monastery and the first stars glinting in the sky. He pictured himself back at Kirklinton with the mysterious woman, a jealous thought of Niall McCall crossing his mind.

  What would his father say at having an English woman in their midst? Would he be angry?

  Tis’ my decision, he told himself, determined to help the woman whether his family would accept her or not.

  Chapter Four

  Rory awoke to the sound of the early morning bell. It was ringing out to summon the monks to the first prayers of the day, and Rory rolled over in his bed and yawned. The guest quarters were sparsely furnished with just a bed, washstand, and a stool to kneel before the crucifix which hung on the plain, whitewashed wall above.

  The air was chilly, despite it being summer, and Rory pulled up the blankets, closed his eyes, and tried to get back to sleep. But the tolling of the bell continued, and he realized that it would be impossible to sleep, now that he was so wide awake.

  Reluctantly, he sat up, still wrapped in his blanket, and recalling the memories of the day before. Today, he would return to Kirklinton with the English woman, she had been his first thought upon waking, and he was eager to see her. Hurriedly, he dressed, splashing cold water on his face and going to the window where the first rays of dawn were breaking over the horizon.

  The monks of Lanercost kept to a strict and rigid routine, and Rory knew that it was not a life he would ever desire. Despite not finding a wife, as Owen had so bluntly reminded him, Rory was content not be bound by the duties of monastic life either. His own life lay in the world, amongst his fellow clansmen, and as much as he enjoyed visiting the monastery, he was always pleased to step back out into normal life.

  He could see the monks filing into the church across the cloister, and he watched until they were all inside before making his way downstairs towards the refectory. The corridors were quiet, for all the monks were now at prayer, and only a few of the lay brothers were about their work.

  Rory paused outside the infirmary, wondering if he dared enter to see if the English woman was yet awake. He could picture the look on Brother Callum’s face if caught, but the risk seemed worth it. Cautiously, he pushed open the infirmary door, which squeaked on its hinges, causing him to pause. But the brothers were at their prayers, and no one challenged him as he entered.

  Several beds were now occupied, but the woman still lay where they had left her yesterday. Rory approached the bed to find her fast asleep. A half bottle of green ointment lay on the table next to her. Her cheeks seemed rosy now, and the paleness of her face was gone. She was breathing gently, and Rory thought her very beautiful to look at, the sight taking his breath away for she seemed more radiant than the day before. There was a peacefulness about her, the sort that came from being in a holy place surrounded by prayer. He reached out, unable to resist, about to touch her hand, when a voice behind him hissed.

  “Rory Elliott, ye may be heir to yer father, but ye will nae sneak into my infirmary,” Brother Callum said, standing at the door with a look of annoyance on his face.

  “I was …” Rory began.

  “Interferin’ is what ye were doin’, and I daenae appreciate it. Now, go and have yer breakfast, and I will make the lass ready for her departure,” the monk replied.

  Rory nodded, glancing at the woman for a final time, before making his way out of the infirmary door with Brother Callum’s chastisement ringing in his ears. He found Owen and their uncle already at their breakfast and joined them for a bowl of porridge, the refectory filled with lively chatter, for news of the English woman’s arrival had spread.

  “Our adventure upon the path is the talk of everyone,” Duncan said, glancing around him.

  Others were stealing furtive glances across the refectory, and Rory felt embarrassed by the looks as he ate his breakfast.

  “The peasants are scared. They daenae like the English one bit, and to think that ye and uncle Duncan were ambushed upon the path makes them nervous,” Owen said.

  “Then tis’ best that I take the lass back with me to Kirklinton. She will be safe there, and perhaps we can discover who she is,” Rory replied.

  “Aye, tis’ a strange thing. Would ye like me to walk with ye some of the way?” his brother asked, but Rory shook his head.

  “Nay, brother. I will be quite safe, but if ye can lend me a horse to take the lass with me, I should be grateful.”

  “I am sure one can be found. We shall see ye on yer way soon enough. Have ye checked on her this day?” Owen asked as they finished their breakfast.

  “Aye,” Rory replied, smiling to himself, “I was shooed out of the infirmary by dear Brother Callum for disturbin’ the lass.”

  “The infirmary is Callum’s domain. He does nae take kindly to folks who interfere,” Owen replied, grinning at his brother.

  “Then we must ensure the lass is takin’ away quickly before I interfere anymore,” Rory replied.

  The three of them made their way out of the refectory to find the infirmary door wide open and Brother Callum with Brother Luke involved in an altercation with the woman. She had got up, and it seemed made to escape, much to the horror of the two.

  “Ye cannae leave just now, lass,” Brother Callum was shouting, as Brother Luke held her back.

  “Co
me now, what is this?” Rory said, hurrying through the door.

  “She is demandin’ to leave,” Brother Callum said.

  “Unhand me, let me go, where am I?” the woman cried out.

  “Tis’ all right, lass, ye are safe here. This is Lanercost, and ye are here with the monks. Nay one is goin’ to hurt ye,” Rory said, stepping forward with his hands raised in what he hoped was a sign of peace.

  The woman paused, looking around her in surprise, as though she could hardly believe she was there.

  “Lanercost? But … how?” she said, a look of confusion on her face.

  “I will explain, it was I who ye rescued upon the road from the English yesterday, but right now ye are to come with me to my father’s castle at Kirklinton. We will look after ye there, and ye will be safe,” Rory answered softly.

  The woman seemed about to speak, but her hand went to her head, and the color drained from cheeks. She fell back, and it was only through the quick wit of Brother Callum that she was caught before falling to the floor.

  “Come, she can rest awhile, an hour or so will nae hurt ye. Are ye sure ye wish to take her?” Brother Callum asked, and Rory nodded.

  “She saved our lives on the path, and I will nae see her left here. She is confused and scared, but there is still much mystery to her. I will try to discover who she is and return her home if that is what she wants. I cannae expect ye to look after her here.”

  “Ye are a good Samaritan, Rory Elliott,” Brother Callum said, having forgiven Rory for his previous misdemeanor.

  “I promise I will keep her safe,” he said.

  They allowed the woman to rest for a while, and she seemed to recover some of her color and spoke enough words to know that she was happy to return with Rory to Kirklinton. Together, they helped the woman down to the cloister and out to the gatehouse. Owen had remained silent for much of the time, but now he stepped forward, offering up his hand in a blessing to Rory and the woman.

  “Go carefully, brother. The path is nae safe any longer, and to think of any harm comin’ to ye or the lass pains me. Only this mornin’ we have heard of reports of English soldiers to the south, ye must get away from here and home.”

  “We will be fine. I will stop for nay one, and we shall ride like the wind to Kirklinton. Pray for us that is what ye must dae,” Rory said.

  One of the monastery stable hands appeared with Duncan and a horse, saddled and ready. He looked doubtfully at Rory, who took hold of the woman who had now regained some of her consciousness but seemed unsure of where she was.

  “Will she ride?” he asked, and Rory shook his head.

  “Help her onto the horse, and I shall hold her. I have ridden like this before with injured soldiers. She will be quite all right,” he replied.

  With some difficulty, they helped the woman up onto the horse and Rory placed his arms firmly around her, as he took the reins.

  “God bless ye, Rory,” his uncle said, as he and Owen both made the sign of the cross.

  “Here is some ointment for her,” Brother Callum said, bringing out a small bottle from his robes, “it is one of my most powerful remedies and will revive her when ye are back at Kirklinton. Go carefully now.”

  Rory thanked him and urged the horse on through the monastery gates.

  “When the path is safe, we shall visit ye at Kirklinton,” his uncle called after him.

  “Aye, my father will be pleased to see ye,” Rory called, “And ye, too, Owen, he often speaks of ye.”

  The houses around the monastery seemed deserted, though several peasants were working in the fields by the river. Rory looked warily around him, though it would be most unusual for danger to lurk near a holy place. While the monks themselves were Scots, they maintained an uneasy truce with the English, for their faith was the same, and to attack holy men was something, not even an Englishman would dare. Still, it would not do to have the woman remain too long under the care of the monks even in her present state, not if her presence became known to the English, who would surely seek revenge for what had happened on the road.

  They rode on along the path to Kirklinton. The day was warm, and the sun was now high in the sky above. Rory kept a close eye on either side of the path, but his uncle had promised that the horse was a swift one and that if danger approached, he would ride like the wind until he reached the safety of the castle. The woman seemed half-asleep, though occasionally she would mutter something, and Rory would do his best to understand what she was saying.

  “Musgrave …” she muttered.

  “What dae ye know of the Musgrave’s? Are ye English? Have they hurt ye in someway? Rory asked, but the woman lolled forward in the saddle, and Rory had to catch her before she fell.

  “I shall get nay sense out of ye, that much is certain,” he said.

  Around noon he paused, taking some bread and cheese from his saddlebag, which Owen had packed for him. He had ridden past the spot where the woman had rescued them, and the bodies of the English soldiers still lay upon the road. The woman was still half asleep and made no reply when offered something to eat. He pictured the look on his mother’s face when he returned and wondered what she would say about the woman staying with them at Kirklinton.

  She can hardly turn the poor lass away. She isnae like that.

  The path trailed through the woods before emerging onto moorlands, where the castle could be seen a few miles in the distance. Here, the road forked toward Lochrutton, and another path ran across the heathers towards Evie’s home at the castle of the Mcbrydes. She, too, would be astonished to hear of this woman’s arrival and no doubt quickly make her way to Kirklinton to see her.

  “I am takin’ ye to my father’s castle at Kirklinton, dae ye hear me?” Rory said, but the woman only muttered something, as Rory urged the horse forward across the heathers.

  I hope she will be all right, he thought to himself, as the gates of his father’s castle came into view.

  Chapter Five

  The sound of the gates opening brought Rory’s mother Isla to the window of the keep, and she looked amazed as her son glanced up and saw her. She disappeared from the window, and a few moments later appeared in the courtyard, followed closely by Evie, who had just arrived.

  “Whatever has happened, Rory? Who is this lass, and where is this horse from?” Isla asked, as Rory clambered down and helped the woman to the ground.

  “The horse is from the monastery. This lass we met upon the path to Lanercost. We found ourselves set upon by three English soldiers, but she saved us from them. I am ashamed to admit that I couldnae take on all three, and if it were nae for her, then my uncle and I would surely have perished at their hands,” Rory said.

  “English soldiers? Attackin’ ye, oh, my goodness, we must close the gates and set a watch. The poor lass, she looks so ill,” Evie said, stepping forward, “what is wrong with her?”

  “She became delirious just after we met her. I daenae even know her name, but the monks were wary of her remainin’ with them. She seems to be English. I told them that we would take care of her and see to it that she was looked after. She will be safe here,” Rory said.

  His mother smiled, taking the woman by her arm and, along with Evie, helping her inside.

  “We shall see to it that she is looked after, aye,” she replied.

  “Has father returned yet?” Rory asked, anxious about what his father might say upon discovering an English woman in their midst.

  “He is still away north with Niall McCall and the other soldiers,” his mother replied, “ye did the right thing though,” and she gave him a reassuring look.

  Rory nodded. He was not afraid of what his father would say, yet still, he wanted his approval. The woman had saved his life, and it was the very least he could do to keep her safe and tended to. He had with him the bottle of ointment Brother Callum had given him, and together the three of them helped the woman up to one of the chambers above the great hall. It was comfortably furnished, quite unlike the cells at
Lanercost, and the woman laid on a bed made up with thick blankets, which they tucked over her.

  “There now, tis’ warm but it grows cold at night when there are nay clouds in the sky. I shall have the servants kindle a fire and bring some soup for her to eat. The poor lass looks as though she needs it,” Isla said, tutting and shaking her head.

  “The monks did what they could for her, and she revived this mornin’, but it seems whatever is wrong has returned,” Rory said.

  “Then we must dae our best to make her well again,” his mother replied, “Evie will stay the night,” and Rory’s sister nodded.