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

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Well, I was always an attentive pupil,” Margaret replied, and Isla laughed.

  “Evie never wanted to learn her lessons. She was too busy runnin’ out across the heathers with Caitlin,” Isla said, shaking her head.

  “Would Rory ever marry? Or is he still devoted to Caitlin?” Margaret asked, and Isla looked at her curiously.

  “Caitlin never loved him. But he must marry soon; else the clan will suffer,” she said, shaking her head.

  It wasn’t the answer to the question Margaret had asked, and she still wondered whether Rory would ever make the vows of marriage or would be too wedded to duty ever to take a wife. They talked a while longer, before Margaret slipped out of the great hall, leaving Isla to her spinning. She was curious about Caitlin and wondered more about Rory’s past. Did he still harbor feelings for this woman? Was the kiss the outplaying of his longing for Caitlin? Or had that kiss been an attempt to rid himself of such thoughts once and for all. It made her question his motives, and despite herself, a feeling of jealousy arose within her.

  She had no wish to see him again that day; their conversation could wait until tomorrow. Instead, she made her way upstairs to her chambers, ready to rest. She would not take dinner that night with the others, but take to her bed and sleep, yawning as she pushed open the door.

  But, as she did, she let out a scream. Niall McCall crouched over the chest containing her clothes. He had one in hand, the pleats pressed to his face, as though he were kissing the garment and looking up, he smiled a lascivious smile.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded as he rose and crossed the room, taking her by the arm and pulling her into the room.

  “Now, lass, are ye nae pleased to see me? I am pleased to see ye. Come, sit with me,” he said, as she struggled in his grip.

  “Let go of me, how dare you? I shall scream as loudly as I can, the others will come looking for me,” she said, as he pushed her roughly onto the bed.

  “We are just havin’ a little fun, ye and I. Ye should be careful to guard yer emotions, lass. The higher yer voice goes, the more it betrays ye,” he said, still smiling at her.

  “What … what do you mean?” she said, staring at him with wide eyes.

  “Ye know what I mean, lass. Now, let me kiss ye. Come here,” he said, reaching his arms around her, as she struggled further.

  “No, get off me, please, let me go,” she cried and struggled from his grasps.

  She leaped up from the bed, crossing to the door, as he caught her again by the arm. But this time, she was ready for him and turning she slapped him hard across the face. He staggered back, his smile turning to anger, a red mark upon his cheek.

  “Ye will regret that. Watch yerself, Margaret, for I am watchin’ ye,” he said, pulling open the door to her chambers, before slamming it hard behind him.

  Margaret rushed to the door, turning the key in the lock. Tears filled her eyes, and she slid to the floor, placing her head in her hands.

  What a terrible ordeal at the hands of that hideous man.

  She felt violated by his touch, as though her whole body was dirty. Her clothes lay strewn on the floor, and it pained her to think of him searching through her possessions.

  The dresses had belonged to Evie, and Margaret knew it fortunate that she had no personal effects. Niall would have found nothing, except satisfying his unpleasant desires. She shuddered, wiping the tears from her eyes as she got up to tidy her clothes. He had ripped one of her dresses, and another bore his scent upon it.

  She threw it into the corner in disgust and lay down wearily upon the bed. It had been a day of mixed emotions, happiness at seeing the children at their lessons, delight followed by turmoil in the kiss she had shared with Rory, and now, further confirmation of Niall’s dark obsession with her.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes, willing sleep to come. It was still early in the evening, and she could hear the hustle and bustle of the courtyard below. She thought of Rory, returning from the forest. He would surely be confused by her actions and wonder why she had behaved as she did. Tomorrow would be difficult, made no easier by the presence of Niall, the very thought of whom sent a shiver running through her.

  She got up, checking again that the door was locked, before returning to her bed and pulling the blankets over her head. Kirklinton had been the only place where she felt safe; it still was, but now there was a menace within its walls, and she could only pray that Rory would continue to protect her.

  For I have nowhere else to go, she thought to herself, as sleep came over her and the memories of that day turned to dreams.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rory returned to Kirklinton later that night. He had wandered for hours in the forest, confused and angry. Why had Margaret rejected him? He had thought it the right time to make his feelings known, to kiss her, and to show her how he felt. But it seemed now that all hope of romance was gone.

  She was just like Caitlin and would tell him that he was just a friend, or worse, like a brother to her. But Rory had no desire to be merely a friend to Margaret, his feelings were growing by the day, and in allowing those emotions to take hold, he had allowed himself to forget Caitlin. Now, it felt as though an old wound had opened, Caitlin’s face replaced by that of Margaret.

  Am I forever to be a fool in love? The old woman was right, he said to himself, as he made his way across the darkening moorlands towards Kirklinton.

  The bright, sunny day had given way to a cool, starry evening. The moon was almost full, casting a pale milky light across the moorlands, and the torches on the castle gates now lit. Rory made his way to the gates, hailing to the soldiers above to let him in.

  “A late night of mushroom pickin’ was it? Nay luck with the lass, Rory?” the soldier asked, smiling at him as the gate was swung open.

  “I picked nay mushrooms,” Rory replied, not pausing for further conversation, and hurrying across the courtyard.

  “I was only askin’ ye, Rory,” the soldier called out.

  “Well, remember yer place,” Rory shouted back angrily.

  He found his mother and father eating dinner in the great hall and sat down dejectedly at the table, taking a bowl of soup.

  “What ails ye, Rory?” his father asked.

  Rory had been surprised to find his father at the table. He looked weak and pale in the candlelight, as though it had been a struggle to join Isla for dinner.

  “Tis’ nothin’ father, I have been in the forest, that is all,” Rory said.

  “Ye didnae return with Margaret? She was here earlier,” his mother said, as a much a question as a statement.

  “Aye, well. She is free to dae as she wishes,” Rory replied, and his father laughed.

  “Tis’ like that, is it?” he asked, and Rory looked up angrily.

  “Tis’ like nothin’ nay, father,” he said, pushing aside his half-empty bowl.

  “Come now, Rory,” his mother said, but Rory had heard enough.

  “We should talk of somethin’ else, Margaret is allowed her freedom. She chose to return earlier than I. That is all,” he said, and his mother nodded.

  “The children enjoyed their lessons today. I only hope that more will come,” she said, offering Rory some bread.

  “Aye, I told Margaret that it would take time before we see many others comin’ but tis’ a good start, aye,” Rory said, pleased that the subject changed.

  “I never thought I would see children learnin’ their lessons at Kirklinton,” his father said.

  “Aye, and there is more to be achieved,” Rory replied.

  He had been mulling over the lessons which Margaret had planned. Many in the clan would benefit from such education and access to the books in the castle library. Few could read, but to offer the castle as a place of learning, conversation, and a storehouse of knowledge had seemed something worth considering.

  “More?” his father asked, and Rory nodded.

  “Aye, we should open up the library for the clan and allow them to
come and see the books. Those that can read could dae so to others, and that way we would see learnin’ and wisdom increase,” Rory replied, as his father laughed.

  “Well, I would never have thought that ye would be interested in such a thing, Rory. It was always yer brother who was the learned one. Ye never showed interest in yer letters. How often did I have to discipline ye for runnin’ away from the priest when it was time for ye to learn? And now ye suggest that I welcome the clansmen into the castle to visit the library,” the Laird said, shaking his head.

  “Ye daenae think it a good thing, father?” Rory asked, feeling hurt by his father’s reaction, but the Laird shook his head.

  “I think it an excellent thing, Rory. But I am surprised that it was ye who thought of it,” he replied.

  “Thought of what?” Niall McCall asked as he swept into the great hall.

  Rory scowled at him as he took his seat next to the Laird and helped himself to the soup. He looked flustered, and, in the candlelight, Rory was surprised to see his cheek red and smarting, as though he had received a blow.

  “Rory has suggested that the castle library be available for the clansmen to visit. They could read the books and learn their letters,” the Laird said, and Niall laughed.

  “And give them the run of the castle? Are ye mad?” he asked, turning to look at Rory.

  “Come now, Niall, tis’ a good thought,” the Laird said, “and it would only be the clansmen, what threat dae they pose?”

  “There are few that we can trust, Laird,” Niall replied, and Rory chanced a glance at his mother.

  She looked angry, as though she too could see how this man had manipulated his way into their lives and now had her husband’s ear. But the Laird only nodded and turned to Rory with a ponderous expression.

  “We shall see, Rory. But now I am tired, and I shall bid ye all a goodnight,” he said, rising from his place.

  Rory and the others rose too, and Niall followed after the Laird, still offering his counsel as they went.

  “Is there anythin’ that he does nae seek to control?” Rory said, slamming his fist down hard upon the table, as the footsteps of his father and Niall echoed up the stairs.

  “Peace, Rory. We must bide our time,” his mother said.

  “And as we dae so that man gains more influence over our lives and my father,” Rory replied.

  “And what would ye have us dae? We cannae simply run him out of the castle because of a whim. Yer father is growin’ weaker by the day and to dae so would surely cause him a great shock,” his mother replied.

  “So, we are to bide our time while he gains more influence? I neither like nor trust him, mother,” Rory said, shaking his head.

  “And neither dae I, Rory. But I daenae wish to upset yer father. Be patient, and we shall be rid of him soon enough. Turn yer attention to Margaret, she seemed upset earlier, though she tried to hide it,” his mother said.

  Rory had no wish to talk about Margaret, but it seemed inevitable that he would have to do so. He wanted to forget what had happened in the woodlands earlier that day, knowing that it was unlikely anything more would help come of it. Margaret’s reaction had seemed clear enough to him, and the thought of facing her again was uncomfortable.

  “She will be all right, I am sure,” he replied.

  “She is a nice lass. The two of ye could …” Isla began, but Rory rose from his place.

  “I daenae need to be told, mother,” he replied.

  “But tis’ time ye married, Rory. Think of yer father, think of the clan. Ye must dae so. Ye are to be the Laird and sooner than ye think,” she said.

  But Rory had heard enough, and he shook his head, before marching off from the table, as his father’s dogs followed behind.

  “And I’m sure ye will find me a suitable wife, mother,” he replied, though it would never be the wife he truly desired.

  He paid no further heed to his mother’s words, making his way instead to his chambers and locking himself in for the night. But he was restless, his mind continually turning to Margaret. The memory of that tender moment etched forever in his thoughts. How he longed to hold her, to possess her, to know her more.

  It was a cruel thing to have had it snatched from him, his passions even now still aroused. He thought of holding her, of kissing and feeling her arms around him. There was turmoil in his heart, and he longed to tell her his true feelings. Why had he been so foolish as to kiss her? He should have waited and come to know her better. He had rushed in foolishly, and now the pain in his heart was the consequence.

  But for a moment, it had seemed as though his desires were to be realized. He had felt her touch, tasted her lips, and the tensing of her body. She had wanted to kiss him, if only for a moment. But then she had pulled herself back and snatched herself away. What had prompted her to do so? Was there a desire on her part for something more?

  He thought about it long into the night, pondering on whether Margaret had desired him in the same manner that he wanted her. Was he fooling himself? Longing for something which was not there? His mind filled with confusing thoughts and, as he fell into a disturbed sleep, Rory couldn’t help but wonder what Margaret was hiding from him.

  But what can I dae? She cannae be forced to love me, he reasoned to himself, as his eyes grew heavy, the old woman was right, I will always be unlucky in love.

  The next day, Rory awoke to the sounds of a commotion in the courtyard below. His chambers were high up in the keep, but the sounds of horses hooves and men shouting, brought him out of his slumber. He went quickly to the window, looking down to see Niall McCall issuing orders to his father’s soldiers. The castle gates were open, and several riders were entering from the moorland path.

  Some trouble, Rory thought to himself, annoyed that Niall was in the thick of it, lauding himself as if the Laird.

  Rory dressed quickly, pulling on his tunic and sword belt. He made his way downstairs and into the courtyard, just as his father appeared from the stables, followed by Sweeney.

  “Rory, ye are needed now, lad,” his father said, beckoning him over.

  Niall was still issuing orders, but Rory followed his father obediently through the chaos around them.

  “Father, what is happenin’ here? Why were the riders out so early?”

  “English soldiers have been spotted on the roads. Several have been seen by the scouts from the Armstrong castle, and we have just received word from Hamish that the McBrydes have trailed a party of Englishmen from the borders and into the northern hills. Tis’ a worryin’ thing indeed,” his father said, shaking his head.

  “We must ride out, they will burn the crofts and terrorize the peasants if we daenae show our strength,” Rory said, and his father shook his head.

  “Niall has suggested a different strategy. We must see to it that our lands here are secured first. Tis’ the castle, which is of most importance.”

  Rory scowled, glancing back into the courtyard, where Niall McCall was issuing orders to the men. He had no intention of sitting behind the walls of Kirklinton while English soldiers roamed freely across their lands.

  “And so, we are to leave the villagers to their fate? The children which Margaret taught yesterday? The peasants who till and toil the land? Nay, father, I will nae leave them to their fate. Sweeney, make ready my horse,” Rory said, ignoring his father’s protests.

  “Better to secure what we have until we know the situation. They may only be scouts, there has been nay sightin’ of any army so far,” his father said, but Rory had already thrown a saddle over his horse, as Sweeney looked on, confused as to his loyalties.

  “And scouts will lead to an army, and the army will see our downfall. They will return to the Musgraves and tell them that we are weak and hidin’ in our castle. There was a time, father, when ye would have ridden out to defend our cause at the slightest hint of trouble. Now ye cower behind the walls at the behest of that man,” Rory cried.

  “That is enough, Rory,” his father shou
ted, but for once, Rory ignored him.

  He led the horse out into the courtyard, calling for several of his father’s most trusted men.

  “And what dae ye think ye are doin’ now, lad?” Niall called over, but Rory was in no mood to heed him.

  “I am an Elliott, and I will defend our name,” he cried, climbing onto his horse, “and I pay nay heed to yer suggestions.”

  Rallying the men, Rory rode out of the gates. As he did so, he chanced to glance up towards the keep, and saw Margaret watching him as he left. The commotion must have brought her to the window, and she a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. He knew the two of them needed to talk, but for now, his thoughts lay elsewhere.