Her Rebellious Heart: A Scottish Historical Romance

by McBride, Marian

  Hearing Sarge’s barking, Robert MacDonald emerged from the stables and came towards her with a big grin on his face.

  “Bridget, my girl,” he cried out, “so you did come. I was afraid I might have frightened you off with my request.”

  Bridget smiled with amusement. Her grandfather had always been direct. The offer seemed more real having heard him speak of it, and Bridget was surprised to feel a wave of joy flow through her. Laying the basket she was carrying on the ground, she reached up and took his face between her hands. She kissed him soundly on his bearded and mustachioed mouth before she answered, “Grandfather, you are an old charmer. I don’t know how you do it, but you nearly always get your way, don’t you? And yes, I have decided to be hostess for your club supper, but I don’t know about moving in with you. I shall have to give that some serious thought.”

  “Well, my dear,” said Robert, clearly pleased by what she had said, “first things first, eh? We’ll talk about that later, but I’m right proud you have decided to come to the party I am giving.”

  Putting his arm about her shoulders, he went on,“Supper will be ready shortly but now come and meet my right hand man, Aidan MacLeod.”

  Bridget had seen him from a distance before but never had an occasion to be introduced.

  “Aidan, lad,” yelled the old man toward the interior of the stable, “Come on out here. I want you to meet my granddaughter.”

  “Be there in a minute, sir, soon as I get some of this muck off my hands,” a deep male voice yelled back.

  While waiting for him to join them, Robert said,“Aidan is a nice lad, Bridget, and I would like you to become good friends with him. He has certainly made himself indispensable to me, and I don’t think I could get along without him now.”

  “He is from the Highlands, isn’t he?” she asked.

  “Yes he is, lass, and quite ambitious. Very anxious to make something of himself. I could see this when I first met him on one of my visits there, so I decided to give him his chance, and it has worked out well for both of us. You were just a youngster when I bought him here and probably didn’t pay attention to him. He has a great love for animals, and horses especially are in his blood. I had him take special training for his line of work and it has definitely been to his advantage. He has bred and raised some fine animals for the laird out at Pholorth Castle. The word has got around about the fine work he does along this line and our business is flourishing.”

  The object of their conversation, emerged from the stables. He was clad in brown riding breeks, knee high boots, and a loose fitting tan jersey. As he walked towards them, he slapped his leather boots with his riding crop.

  “Ah, Aidan my lad,” said Robert, “this is my favorite granddaughter, Bridget Campbell. I want you two to become better acquainted with each other.” Then, looking at Bridget proudly, he added, “She has agreed to be the hostess at my club supper I am giving next month.”

  Aidan came forward and extended his hand in greeting towards Bridget. She noticed that his hand appeared work roughened and strong.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Bridget. I feel that I already know you quite well. Mr. MacDonald often talks about you.”

  Shaking his hand, Bridget laughed, “I’m pleased to meet you too, Aidan, and you must forgive Robert if he boasts about his family too much, but I suppose that’s what grandfathers do.”

  He smiled, his dark eyes burning into hers. The touch of his hand brought disturbing sensations. Color reddened Bridget's cheeks as she gazed into his strong, rugged face, suntanned to a deep brown beneath tousled black hair. His face was clean shaven and had a slightly one sided smile that gave him a sort of insolent look. He was a picture of health and was surely attractive, but for some reason she thought she would rather have him for a friend than an enemy. There was something ruthless about him, which made her apprehensive.

  They gazed at each other for a long moment. She barely repressed a slight shudder as she realized he was still holding her hand. Bridget felt she had to say something to break the tension, “Aidan, that is an unusual name.”

  Aidan smirked. “It is a family name.”

  Bridget chuckled. “Are you saying you are related to Aidan, king of Dalriada?”

  Aidan's thick eyebrows raised. “You know your history, lass.”

  Bridget waited for him to deny a connection.

  Smiling, Robert broke in,“Well now, shall we get going to the house? Supper should be ready, and we better get there before Besse gets upset.”

  Bridget pulled her hand from Aidan's grasp and picked up the basket she had brought from home. She put her arm through her grandfather's arm, feeling for the moment much safer, but from what, she wondered?

  The three of them walked towards the house, she and Aidan on either side of Robert, Sarge trotting along at their heels.

  Robert MacDonald's house was a replica of a medieval castle that had been built by his grandfather, Bridget's great, great grandfather. She'd been told that he was a retired sea captain who had come down to the Lowlands after the defeat of Prince Charles Edward on Culloden Field and the resulting clearances of the Highlands, when chiefs were outlawed and all clans ordered to disband. Many of them emigrated en masse to the new Americas, leaving their beloved homeland forever.

  Robert’s forbearer had preferred coming to the Lowlands to be near the sea, which had been his life, his intention being to reconstruct the ruins of the old Fraser Castle that stood on Kinnaird Head, a point of land jutting into the North Sea, and also to build a much needed lighthouse on the point.

  But about that same time, the British Government decreed that no lighthouse could be privately owned, and they built one themselves on the only stable part of the old castle that was still standing.

  Undaunted, Bridget’s ancestor leased several acres of land in close proximity to the lighthouse and built his own castle by the sea. In time, he became custodian of the lighthouse.

  The home he built was two stories high with stone walls two feet thick and veneered on the outside with rough white harl. Bridget thought that it made a marked, pleasing contrast to the red tile roof. The four decorative turrets on each corner of the building and mock battlements around the roof gave the semblance of a castle. Two storage garrets atop the second floor were roofed in with red tile and came to within three feet of the battlements, creating a balcony all the way around, which was accessible by a doorway from one of the garrets.

  On the south side of the building, Robert had added a hexagonal-shaped room with walls of heavy glass on four sides and strong oaken shutters for protection against winter storms. The stables he had added to the estate when Aidan had come were matched to the castle with rough white walls and red tile roof.

  Veritably, it was a show place, standing on a grassy knoll that sloped down to the sea and a sheltered sandy cove, girded on two sides by large rocks and tide pools. Bridget, now taking this all in, was awed by the thought that some day this might belong to her.

  Her reverie was broken by Aidan’s voice asking,“Are you interested in animals at all, Bridget? I would like to show you around the place so you can get an idea of the work I do here. We have some very fine horses, which I’m sure you would enjoy getting acquainted with.”

  “I have never been around animals very much, but I think I would enjoy seeing some of yours and getting to know just what you and Robert do around here.”

  He smiled with amusement, “Fine, Bridget, anytime you say then.”

  They had now reached the house and were met by Besse, the dour faced and forbidding housekeeper. Short and plump she was, with an ample bosom and the look of a woman who had lived a hard life. Judging by the look of her face now, Bridget thought that she had nothing much left to smile about.

  “You’re late, sir,” Besse grumbled, “I’ve been holding supper for you.” The look she gave Bridget made her feel as if she was to blame.

  “Besse,” said Robert, quite unperturbed, “my granddaughter will
be having supper with us. Please set another place.”

  Bridget sensed the woman’s displeasure and wished she could go home to eat but knew her grandfather wouldn’t hear of it. Trying to sound cheerful, she said, “Oh, Besse, here are some things my mother sent over.” She handed her the basket.

  Besse took it with as much grace as she was capable of, and answered,“Thank you, Miss Bridget, and thank your mum for sending them.”

  Besse took the basket and flounced around the corner of the house towards the kitchen door.

  Aidan, smiling enigmatically, said he would head to his quarters to wash up and change clothes for supper.

  “Come, lass,” said Robert, “let’s go in the front way.” The front way was a heavy oaken door with the MacDonald in the center and the words Ty-Runach, Gaelic for “beloved house,” inscribed on a glass panel above the door.

  Upon entering the parlor, Bridget looked around the beautiful room she had always admired. The lofty ceilings and wood paneled walls gave it an air of warmth and comfort, as did the deep red carpet on the floor. The east side of the room was dominated by a semicircular staircase of twenty red carpeted steps and on the wall at the turn landing hung a portrait of Robert’s wife, Bridget's grandmother Katherine.

  Mahogany tables and chairs polished to a brilliant shine attested to Besse’s housekeeping ability. Objects d’art from foreign lands were everywhere, and although Bridget had seen the room many times, she now looked at it in a completely different light. She thought how wonderful it would be to actually live in this exciting atmosphere and make it her home.

  Across the spacious room on the west side was the large stone fireplace where a fire was always burning and another painting of a full rigged sailing ship hung on the wall above the mantle. Two leather armchairs were placed on each side of the fireplace and a leather upholstered settee sat directly in front of it.

  On the north side of the room was the dining area just off the kitchen, which in turn was reached by a doorway under the stairway. On the far side from the dining area stood a magnificent grand pianoforte that Bridget has never seen before. Everything about the room looked elegant and inviting, but the pianoforte called out to her the most.

  Maybe Mum was right after all, Bridget thought. She could own it all some day if she tried her best to make Robert happy now. Looking around the room again she exclaimed, “How lovely everything looks, Granddad. So cosmopolitan with all your different artifacts, yet so cozy and home like.”

  Robert looked at her fondly, replying, “It will be much more so, lass, with you in it.” Then in a more serious tone he continued,“I need someone of my own near me in my declining years, Bridget.”

  She hugged him and answered,“We’ll see, Granddad, we’ll see, but I’m not promising anything yet. Tell me though, when did you get the lovely pianoforte?”

  “Oh, lassie, I thought it time you had one of your own and got it for you a few weeks ago. It would be a comfort having you play for me this evening.”

  Bridget spoke seriously,“Don’t spoil me, Robert. I’m not used to it, but I am very glad you got the pianoforte.”

  “Well, my dear, whether you come to live here or not, you can use the piano any time you want. It’s yours, and now here comes Aidan. Let’s sit down to supper. I see Besse has it all laid out.”

  Aidan, with his black hair neatly combed and face shining as after a good scrubbing, came towards her and held the chair as she seated herself. He looked most attractive now in tan colored trousers and white high necked jersey, and she found herself wishing she could feel more friendly towards him, but there was something about him that repelled her, and which for Robert’s sake, she would have to try and get over. He was far too self-assured for her liking, but if she decided to move into the anchorage, she would hopefully learn to cope with it.

  He sat directly across the table from her, Robert at the head between them. Every time she looked his way, Aidan’s dark eyes were upon her making her feel ill at ease and shy, but also furious with herself at the strange feelings within her. From the smug look on his face, she felt he was highly amused and knew exactly what was going on in her mind.

  As she toyed with her food, Robert’s voice broke in on her,“What’s the matter, lass? You’ve hardly touched your supper. Don’t you like it?”

  She looked startled for a moment,“I like the smoked fish well enough, but I never eat oat cakes. I’m going to the kitchen and get a piece of bread,” and getting up from the table, glad of an excuse to get away for a moment, she hurried to the kitchen.

  Besse, eating her supper, looked up inquiringly.

  “I just want a piece of bread, Besse. Do you mind if I toast it?”

  Then, without waiting for an answer, took a fork from one of the drawers, stuck in into bread slice, and held it in front of the open fire, first one side then the other. Smiling at Besse she said,“I don’t like oat cakes.”

  Surprisingly, the woman answered,“Well here, lassie, put some butter on your bread,” at the same time pushing the butter plate closer to her.

  Bridget smiled,“Thank you, Besse.”

  She walked back into the dining room when she was done, unaware of Besse's eyes watching her closely.

  On returning to the dining room, she found the two men deep in conversation about horse breeding. They stopped talking as she sat down at the table again, causing her to look at them inquiringly for the reason of their silence.

  “Now look you two,” she almost snapped at them, “I’m grown up now and know all about baby horses, so don’t stop your discussion on my account.”

  Ignoring the two of them, she plowed into her food without another look or word.

  Aidan and Robert smiled at each other and resumed their talk.

  When the meal was over, the two men retired to their respective chairs by the fire. Bridget helped Besse clear the table and carry the dishes to the kitchen.

  “Besse, your supper was so very good, especially the warm rice pudding. And what a lovely clean kitchen you have. You work very hard, don’t you?”

  “No, not too hard, Miss Bridget, but I do like a clean house, especially the kitchen where food is prepared, so I do my best.” She had a happy look on her face at the praise from the younger woman

  “Let me help you now with the washing up of the dishes.”

  “No, no lassie, your grandfather might not like it. You go in the parlor and visit with him.”

  “All right, Besse, if you insist, but I’d like to do my share, you know. I don’t want you waiting on me any time I come here.”

  “That’s all right, Bridget, but not this time. Off you go now. There’s a good girl.”

  It was evident that Besse thought of the kitchen as her own private domain, so being politely expelled from it, Bridget went back into the parlor where the two men were now seated in front of a blazing fire, feet stretched out upon the fender.

  It was a cozy scene. The aromatic smoke rising from the piper they were both smoking was very pleasing. Going to the piano, Bridget sat down and ran her fingers over the keyboard to get the feel of the instrument, then as the strains of Chopin’s “Polinaise” filled the air, Robert and Aidan exchanged looks of pleasure, Aidan nodding his head in satisfaction. Bridget noticed that Besse was seated in the chair near the kitchen door listening with a sweet smile on her usually glum face.

  From the old classic, Bridget swung into a medley of old Scottish songs, winding up with the plaintiff strains of “The Dark Isle.” She lost herself in the music.

  As the music died away, she sat for a few moments with closed eyes, her thoughts far away in another time and place. Then getting up, she moved back to where the men were seated, taking a fat pillow from the settee, she threw it on the floor beside Robert’s chair and sat down on it. Looking up at him, she noticed his eyes were wet.

  Aidan said,“That was beautiful, Bridget, and I hope we shall hear lots more of your playing. You do it very well.”

  “Thank you, A
idan, I’m glad you enjoyed it. As for myself, I couldn’t live without my music.”

  She leaned her head against her grandfather’s chair as Sarge came and lay on the floor beside her, resting his head on her lap.

  “Ah, lassie,” said Robert, “it’s such a pleasure to have you here. It makes everything complete again.”

  He reached out his gnarled hand and stroked her hair. They lapsed into silence then. Words seemed unnecessary at the moment, but although Bridget dreamily watched the dancing flames in the fireplace, and purposely didn’t look at Aidan again, she was fully aware that his gaze seldom left her face and she wondered what was in his mind. Was he resenting the fact that Robert wanted her to move in with them? Was he worried she might spoil his chances maybe being the old man’s heir?

  Finally, she felt compelled to glance his way, and his dark brooding eyes held hers, bringing a hot flush to her cheeks. The slightly arrogant look was back on his face and she got to wondering how her grandfather could possibly stand the man.

  Then at last, Robert broke the silence, “Bridget, my dear, there is something I would like you to do for me if you will.”

  She looked at him with a sweet smile,“What might that be, Robert? I’ll certainly do it if I can. Anything at all, just name it.”

  Robert MacDonald drew his hand across the back of his neck, a custom of his when he was about to propose something and was not sure of the outcome.

  He looked at Bridget with a rather sheepish smile,“Well, lassie,” he began, “on the night of the dinner I am giving, I would like you to wear one of the dresses your grandmother wore when she was a young woman. This particular one was my favorite and I’ve kept it through the years. Will you do it?”

  She and Aidan exchanged surprised glances. He shrugged his shoulders, then nodded his head indicating she should agree to Robert’s request.

  “Wasn’t Grandmother very small?” she asked, trying to bring up memories of her.