“Rory, Rory, we have learnt our scriptures, and Margaret has taught us our letters,” Elsa cried, flinging herself into Rory’s arms, as her two brothers crowded around them.
“Well now, only a few hours and ye have learned yer letters. Ye must be wise children,” Rory said, laughing, as Margaret came up behind them.
“We have made a start, but it will be many months before you have learned your letters, though, Elsa. But the three of you have done well today. I only wish more of the children had come,” she said.
“Ah, daenae be despondent, lass. Ye have done well to keep their attention even for this long,” Rory said, as Isla appeared to usher the children to their meal.
“I hope they will return. It is a lot of work for only three,” Margaret said, as she and Rory followed them into the great hall.
“I will look after the children now,” Isla said, “I must go to Lochrutton, later on, to speak with the priest, I will see them safely home. Ye have done enough, Margaret, and I am sure they are grateful to ye.”
Margaret smiled, and Rory beckoned her from the great hall, as the children began their meal. They stepped into the courtyard, where the autumnal sunshine was warm, though there was a hint of a breeze in the air. In the distance, the sky was growing overcast.
“What say we take a walk in the forest this afternoon?” Rory asked, “I’ve spent too long in the castle these past days. There are still so many places I wish to show ye.”
“Out with yer lass are ye, Rory?” one of the soldiers called out.
A group of them were standing talking by the stables, Sweeney was there, and he smiled, as Rory and Margaret walked across the courtyard.
“And what business is it of yers if I should walk out with whoever I choose, Daniel McGinn?” Rory said, laughing and shaking his head.
“But ye are always so busy that ye cannae take a moment to drink with yer clansmen, but now we see ye takin’ the lass out to walk,” the man continued, and Rory shook his head.
“Perhaps it is I who am taking him out to walk,” Margaret said, and the men started laughing.
“So now our Laird to be is takin’ orders from a lass, come drink with us tonight, Rory, show us ye are still the man we know,” came the reply.
“I would drink until ye were all collapsed onto the floor and still be standin’ the next day, ye know that well enough,” Rory said, shaking his head.
“Go and take yer lass for her walk then, Rory, but come back and tell us if she let ye kiss her, we know yer ways,” another of the men called out.
“Ah, daenae listen to them, Rory, they are only jealous of ye with a pretty lass on yer arm and the moorlands to enjoy,” Sweeney called out.
“I shall drink with ye lads, I shall drink with ye soon enough,” Rory called out, and he followed Margaret across the courtyard, as further taunts came his way.
“You are lucky to have such friends,” Margaret said, and Rory laughed.
“My clansmen are loyal, even if at times they forget their place,” he said.
Margaret smiled, and together they walked through the castle gates and out onto the moorland beyond. Here, the breeze was stronger, and it caught Margaret’s hair, blowing it out behind her. As the sun fell on her face, Rory thought how beautiful she looked. He longed to hold her and feel her softness against him. His mind wandered to thoughts of her bedchamber and things they might do together.
They were thoughts that stirred his senses, arousing him even as he stood there, and he reminded himself that he was not Niall McCall and that his thoughts should be honorable at all times. But still, he could not help but find her alluring, an antidote to the years of longing for Caitlin. Of late, he had hardly thought of her, so aroused were his growing feelings for Margaret. It was she, and not Caitlin, who now held sway over his heart, a fact for which he was grateful. How pleased he felt to be in her company and walk together across the moorlands.
“Where will we walk to?” she asked, slipping her arm into his.
“Oh … well, there is a woodland I would like to show ye, where I and the others often walked when we were children. Tis’ this way, come on,” he said, leading her off across the moorlands.
It had been some months since he had walked in the woodlands by the pools where he, Owen, Evie, and Caitlin would swim when they were children. They held many memories for him, memories of those first passionate stirrings when his heart longed for Caitlin, and her actions so hurt him. But now, he felt able to face them without fear, for with Margaret at his side, Rory no longer felt bound by the feelings of the past and instead felt hopeful for the future. But the memory of the old woman’s prophecy remained, as it had always done so. He could never forget her words, nor the thought that she was right about his destiny and the unhappy future she had predicted.
But surely tis’ just nonsense, he said, clinging to the hope which had risen within him.
He knew he must marry and that if these were his father’s last days, then the need to do so was even more urgent. But he had been taken off guard by the strength of feelings aroused within him by Margaret. He could imagine her as his wife, as mistress of Kirklinton and as the mother of a future Laird. She possessed every quality for such a role. But that also caused him to puzzle and ponder upon who she really was. There was a nobility to her, intelligence, and knowledge far beyond her humble origins. Who was she? It was a question he still longed to know the answer to, one which would surely determine if his passions could ever be more than the imaginings of a restless heart.
“What beautiful woodlands these are,” Margaret said, as they walked through the forest glades a short while later.
They were close to the pool where Rory and the others used to swim, and Rory pointed to a large rock, beckoning her to come and sit with him.
“This is where we used to swim when we were children. We would disappear all day into the woodlands together. They were happy days, when we had nae a care in the world,” he said, looking up at the leafy canopy above.
The stream which flowed into the pool was gushing, and the water was deep and inviting. These were the last vestiges of summer, and the day had grown warm. Rory thought of asking her to swim, of seeing her slip into the water and diving deep into its depths. He smiled at her, as she reached down to pluck some wildflowers growing nearby, their scent filling the air.
“What was your childhood like? Were you and the others close?” she asked, and Rory nodded.
“Aye, we were, but we were all very different too. Owen was quiet, prayerful, Evie was strong-willed and determined, I was … I daenae know, always in my father’s shadow,” he replied.
“You are to be Laird, the other two could choose their destinies, but yours was chosen from an early age,” she replied, idly plucking at the petals of one of the flowers.
“Aye, but here in the woods, I used to forget about all that. I would wander for miles amidst the trees. These woods stretch right across the borders, and they are home to all manner of folks, tis’ a strange place, almost magical,” he replied, looking around him.
Across the pool, a deer was grazing, and the dappled sunlight cast upon the water, causing the lake to shimmer. It felt a long way from the cares of Kirklinton and the burden of responsibility which lay upon Rory’s shoulders. Here, amidst the trees, he was free, as free as the grazing deer, which now ran off through the forest, leaving nothing but a fleeting shadow. The woods were full of memories, and Rory could picture himself and the others swimming there as children and running home together through the trees.
“What sort of folks?” Margaret asked, turning to him with interest.
She had a way of giving him her full attention, as though she were hanging onto his every word with interest. It made him smile, and he reached out to take her hand. His action caught her by surprise, but she did not remove her hand. Instead, she faced him, allowing his hand to rest in hers. A shiver of delight ran through him, and he edged a little closer to her.
“There wa
s one encounter forever implanted in my memory. We had swum here in the pool, Owen, Evie, Caitlin and I. The day was hot, much like this one and we were walkin’ home. I told the others I was goin’ to pick mushrooms for mother, and I slipped off into the trees. It was an excuse to be alone, and I was walkin’ through a part of the forest I had never been to before. Suddenly, out of the trees, there came a little old woman, bent doubt, but with a twinkle in her eyes,” Rory spoke as Margaret clung to every word.
“How exciting, what happened? Did she speak with you?” Margaret asked, and Rory nodded.
“Aye, I gave her some of the mushrooms, and she repaid my kindness by offerin’ to read my palm. I have nae told anyone of this before, ye understand,” he said, knowing what the others would say if they heard the story of the little old woman.
“Then I am honored to hear it,” Margaret replied, “but what did she tell you? Your fortune?”
“Somethin’ of it, aye,” he replied, “she told me that there would be sadness and loss for me and that I would be unhappy in love. Tis’ just a foolish tale, but one I have pondered on for many years.”
“Unhappy in love? What did she mean by that, do you think?”
Rory sighed.
“I am … I was in love with Caitlin Macready, the friend of Evie, who I have mentioned to ye. But she never felt the same way for me. I was always merely a friend, more than a friend, like a brother, or so she used to say. But a brother cannae be a lover, can they?”
“You cannot live your life based upon a palm reading,” Margaret said, looking at Rory in puzzlement, as though she would never have expected such a thing of him.
“Aye, but I cannae help but wonder if she was right,” he replied, “I have been unlucky in love. Caitlin was never to marry me, and now that I am to be Laird, I see nay hope of findin’ someone else to dae so.”
Margaret paused for a moment, looking at him curiously.
“What nonsense, you are a wonderful, handsome, and strong man. A noble man and one who will be a great leader of his people. Do not think any less of yourself. Caitlin was a fool if she didn’t see that you were all these things and more. You will have no trouble in finding a woman, I assure you of that,” she said, blushing a little.
The force of her words struck Rory. They were passionate and emboldened. Was her own heart stirred in the same way as his? Had she felt the same as he, with her feelings growing stronger in their days together? For a moment, their eyes met, and he smiled at her. His passions were aroused, and as he leaned forward, their lips met, and they kissed. His arms encircled her, pulling her close. She sighed, her whole body entwined with his as they passionately kissed, his hand going to her breast, his lips on her neck.
She let out a sigh, pressing herself against him, her hands going to his face, as she pulled him deeper into the kiss. He felt his arousal growing, the desires and wants of his heart, and the acts his mind had imagined now becoming a reality. He pulled her closer, their kisses deeper and more intense, each giving way to long-held desire.
“Margaret,” he whispered, kissing her again and looking into her eyes, now wide and uncertain.
“I … oh, I am sorry,” she said, pulling back and rising from the rock.
“I … Margaret, I am sorry,” he began, but before he could say anything further, she was gone, running through the forest and away from him.
He rose, watching her disappear through the trees and cursed himself for his stupidity. His passions were inflamed, all reason gone, and he felt a fool for having been so bold. For a moment, it seemed that she’d succumbed to her passions, but now he felt in disarray, not knowing if he had lost her forever.
“Ye fool,” he said out loud, clenching his fist, “Margaret,” he cried after her, but she was long gone.
Dejectedly, he wandered through the forest, making his way amongst the trees, kicking at roots and cursing himself for his foolishness. Would she now leave Kirklinton forever? Had he lost his chance entirely? It seemed so and, as the day drew on, he had no desire to return home, but stay amongst the trees - lost in his thoughts.
“I have lost her, I have lost any hope of happiness,” he said to himself, sitting down upon a tree stump and putting his head in his hands.
The words of the old woman had come true. He was unlucky in love, and with a heavy heart, he shook his head and lamented the curse, which seemed to be upon him. Would it follow him forever, and what was to come? Would Margaret even speak to him again, or would she already have fled?
“What a fool I am,” he said, “a fool for love.”
Chapter Ten
Margaret ran through the forest, stumbling as she went, she had never meant to kiss Rory. What a foolish mistake it had been, and she cursed herself for such foolishness. Her heart was beating fast, and she could barely breathe, her whole body wracked with guilt for her indiscretion. To kiss Rory, to succumb to the passion building inside her, had been a mistake. She had never imagined his feelings ran so deep, and their kiss had been a surprise.
For a moment, she allowed herself to lose herself in the delight of his touch. She had felt as one with him, as though there could be something deeper between them. She knew her feelings and knew they could so easily betray her. Her life at Kirklinton was a fantasy, a place to hide safely away, but an illusion all the same.
She could not remain there, not with the burden she carried and the secrets of her past. If Rory discovered the truth of who she was, he would surely see her banished, and would regret the tender moment they had shared. Her eyes filled with tears as she hurried from the trees and onto the moorlands, pausing to catch her breath. Everything she had told him was a lie, everything about her a falsehood which Rory and the Elliotts would never forgive.
But, despite her sorrow, Margaret could not help but feel something in the kiss they had shared. She had imagined it, longed for it even. Rory was everything she wanted, a man who would care for her, love her and protect her. But he was an Elliott, and despite everything they had shared, that fact would always be a barrier between them. A border of love over which neither could cross.
Dejectedly, she sat down on a rock by the path leading to Kirklinton, glancing over her shoulder lest Rory should be following her. But there was no sign of him, nor of anyone on that lonely path. She thought of the children in the village and the kindness shown her by the family in allowing her to teach them. She had finally found her place, but how much longer could she remain there, living amidst the secrets she carried, a burden too heavy to bear.
But where else can I go? I have nowhere, she thought to herself, sighing and wiping away the tears from her eyes.
There was nowhere to go, no place of safety like the castle at Kirklinton. Margaret was all alone in the world, and without the Elliotts, she would have nothing. To run from Rory’s embrace had been her only choice, but now she knew that there was nowhere else. To run away would mean certain death, but to remain would mean bearing a secret, one which would surely burst into the fray and one day leave her alone and abandoned.
Looking up, she could see a hawk circling above, just as she had seen with the children the other day. She thought of Callum’s words, imagining herself as free as a bird, free to fly and roam where she willed. But on the ground, that freedom seemed a long way away, and with a sigh, she began to walk back towards Kirklinton.
She would have no choice but apologize to Rory and tell him that she had been a fool. She would make up a story about being embarrassed and not wishing to be too swift in the expression of their feelings. The emotional wounds of her parent’s death were still raw, and she was not ready for such an encounter yet. It pained her to think this, for Rory was everything she had longed for in man, everything she needed. But to give in to her feelings would cause pain and hurt for them both, and she was determined to shield him from that, even it brought her unhappiness.
As she came to the gates of Kirklinton, she glanced back over the moorlands. They seemed to stretch out endlessly before h
er, the hills on the horizon merging with the sky, which was a deep blue, the afternoon sun giving way to evening. She felt tired, for it had been a long day, first with the children, and now this.
“Does the young master nae return with ye?” one of the soldiers asked, and Margaret shook her head.
“He is … gathering mushrooms in the forest,” she replied, and the soldier nodded, ushering her through the gates.
The children were gone now, and Margaret stepped into the great hall, where she found Isla at her spinning wheel.
“Elsa and the other two never stopped talkin’ about their lessons, ye have made them very happy, Margaret,” Isla said, smiling at the girl, who nodded.
“I hope we shall soon have more of the children here to learn their lessons,” she replied.
“And ye are a good teacher, Margaret. It amazes me that a woman such a ye has such learnin’ and wisdom. Ye are still so young,” Isla said, winding wool around her hand.
A Highlander Marked by Fate: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Kirklinton Book 3) Page 9