Her Highlander's Lion Heart (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Barbara Bard

  Outside, Finlay rested by the fire, never once looking back as he did his best to sort through all the raw emotion.

  Chapter 16

  Lord Henry was given word late in the evening from Stephen that his father, Earl Simon of Enticknap, was just a few hours ride away according to the scout they had positioned not far from their encampment.

  Lord Henry took basic measures to make sure that he was presentable for his father, running some water through his hair and rinsing his mouth with mint water to alleviate the stench of alcohol from his breath.

  Stephen then organized Lord Henry’s men, put the most drunk of them in the back, and set about presenting a line up of, at least what appeared to be, a loyal barrage of soldiers and servants standing at attention for Earl Simon of Enticknap with puffed chests, highly held chins, and their commander, Lord Henry, standing at the head of them all with a forced studiousness.

  Ten minutes passed as they waited, the sound of the incoming Earl Simon and his legion visible from just over the ridge as Lord Henry felt his temples throb from the incessant liquor he had been gorging on for what seemed like weeks. Eventually, the rumble of the incoming men gathered to a clear wallop and beating of horses tearing up the earth beneath them.

  Over one-hundred men, all of them sporting crisp tunics, chainmail, and armor approached the encampment, perfectly spaced and flanking the silver-haired man riding up the center of the pack with a regal and resplendent wardrobe adorned with the finest jewels and trappings that only a plethora of wealth could provide. Flag-bearers sporting the insignia of the Enticknaps, a dove holding a crown in its beak, held the poles they were mounted on high as the collective group of men all came to a stop.

  Lord Henry showcased his best, yet still very much yellowed, smile as he approached his father with Stephen positioned directly to his right. “Father!” he greeted, his arms held out wide for an embrace. “A pleasure and a privilege it is to see you again!”

  Earl Simon, his manicured features and aged, yet still handsome, features barely cast a glance in his son’s direction. “I trust my quarters,” he said, “are ready to receive me.”

  Lord Henry gestured to Stephen. “Make sure my father’s quarters are prepared and ready.”

  “Had you not done it already, my son?”

  Lord Henry felt that warm sensation spread through his chest that always arose when his father set about treating him like he was still a young child. It was not a pleasant sensation. Lord Henry more closely associated it with that of bile.

  He nodded his head. “It has been ready since last night. I just want to make sure that every aspect of your time here will be fulfilled to the highest degree.”

  Earl Simon dismounted his horse and removed his riding gloves. He approached his son as he looked around the encampment, taking note of the slightly disheveled appearance of a few of the men, spotting the holes in his son’s rule of the area of the Highlands he had now felt himself foolish for giving to him.

  Earl Simon stashed his leather gloves in his pocket, stood tall, and looked his son square in the eye. After a moment, he smiled, somewhat self-effacing when he saw the signs of alcohol abuse in his son’s eye. “I thought it rather curious,” he said, “when the ledgers of your spending were presented to me. I found it rather odd that so much had been spent on, how was it stated officially, ‘water and health tonics.’”

  “It was, father.”

  The Earl laughed. “I was just unaware that whiskey was a suitable tool for preventative maintenance.”

  Lord Henry said nothing, holding his gaze on his father and doing his best not to break.

  “Come,” the Earl said as he stepped around his son and made his way through the camp. “Let me see with my own two eyes what my legacy has become defined as in this area.”

  Lord Henry, one fist clenched, followed after his father as they headed to his quarters set up directly adjacent to his father’s. They entered Lord Henry’s tent, the Earl looking at everything with an inquisitive and somewhat disgusted set of eyes as he ordered his men to bring in his belongings. “Tell me,” he said to his son as he approached the map of the Highland sprawled across a table. “Where do we currently stand in our current campaign?”

  Lord Henry, having well prepared for the question he knew his father would ask, gestured to Stephen to take the lead. “My Lord,” Stephen said with a bow. “We have successfully taken five of the seven areas designated for purging. While the campaign has had some minor setbacks, we are confident,” he pointed out five areas on the map, “that these places can be taken within a month’s time. We only require an additional one-hundred men in order to accomplish this feat.”

  “And what, pray tell, happened to so many of the men that were already with you?”

  “Sickness has taken some. The fight has taken the others.”

  “Over seventy men have died while under my son’s command.” He squinted at Stephen. “And who are you? Where is Gregor?”

  Lord Henry cleared his throat. “Gregor was killed by a Highlander not long ago, father.” He shook his head, forcing the sadness. “A tragic tale, a tragic loss. His death weighs greatly on me…”

  The Earl stared at his son, incredulous and knowing since the young man’s birth when he was being forthright and when he was not. “There are twenty men,” he said, “in your position. Twenty Lords from the kingdom who were dispatched to take control of this land and restore order. Two of those twenty have died. Each of them had been given the same amount of men, give or take a handful.”

  He started walking in calculated steps up to Lord Henry. “So how is it, when men like the foolish Lord Kingsley, manage to not only accomplish what they were order to accomplish but managed to still retain most of their men when you have lost practically all of yours?”

  Lord Henry felt himself vulnerable as his father’s stare cut through him like a hot poker. The Earl was mad but doing his best to restrain himself even as the muscles in his jaw tightened. He cleared his throat. “Fate, it seems, smiles on some and not on others…father.”

  The Earl recognized the words well, having been passed down from his late wife and directly to that of his lackluster son as he pointed to Stephen and said: “Your name.”

  “Stephen.”

  “Take leave now, Stephen. I wish a moment alone with my son.”

  Stephen nodded to the Earl, then to Lord Simon, and left the two of them alone in the tent. The Earl, moving away from his son and back toward the map, clutched the hilt of his sword with a tight fist. “All of your life,” he said, “you have been nothing but a nuisance to your legacy.”

  Lord Henry opened his mouth. “Father—”

  The Earl slammed his fist on the table, his face red and all those outside the tent hearing the impact of the flesh on wood. “Quiet yourself, boy,” he seethed. “You will speak only when I say that you can speak. Do you understand?”

  Lord Henry, mouth shut, hung his head.

  “Do you understand?” The Earl screamed.

  “Yes, father,” Lord Henry said, somewhat bashful.

  The Earl shook his head. “You have lied to me. You have lied to the highest-ranking members of the kingdom, and your incessant need for self-indulgence has endangered everything we stand for and everything we hope to accomplish.

  “Do you really think that I am unaware or haven’t been able see through the countless charade you have presented to my messengers? Why do you think I am here? I am here to correct the mistakes that you have made, to convince those back home that you will fulfill your word and take control of this land instead of simply killing you for the turmoil and uproar you have caused.” He pointed a finger. “The drinking, the women, the endless nights of over indulgence that you have drained my resources to fund. Do you take me for a fool, boy? Do you?”

  Lord Henry shook his head.

  Earl Simon huffed and waved his son off. “You have no idea what the King thinks of you, and in turn, me. I am here to salvage what is lef
t of this campaign, and once that is done, you will return home, wed whoever I say, and sit behind a closed door where you cannot do any more harm than you already have.”

  Lord Henry felt the anger resurging in him once again, thoughts of Isla now lingering on his mind and his obsession for her that he had deluded himself into thinking was love. “Father,” he said, sheepish, “I think I may have a bride—”

  “Oh, yes,” the Earl said with wide eyes. “Gregor made it a point to me to mention the Scottish whore you are so desperately pining after.”

  Lord Henry felt the betrayal of Gregor informing on his father behind his back immediately. In that moment—he thanked himself silently for killing the traitor when he did.

  “That’s right, my boy,” the Earl said. “I know all about it. It has been the reason for what has driven you down a road of self-destruction. I find it a ghastly and reprehensible notion that you have risked this,” he motioned around the tent, “all of this, for nothing more than a common stable girl who crawled out of her whore of a Scottish mother. They are savages, Henry, nothing more than beasts, and the thought that you wish to lay with one and continue your legacy with her makes me weak at the knees…”

  The Earl then fell silent; his anger subsiding as he slowed his breathing, relaxed his posture, and approached his son. He placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders and took on a more paternal tone. “You are young,” he said, “and foolish, much like I was when I was your age. I do not begrudge you the need to…release, to live and indulge in the vices of life. You are royalty. We usually do not have the ability to have such luxuries.

  “But, as I said, you are royalty, and a king must act as a king, and a lord must act as a lord.” He walked back over to the map. “I will take command from here,” he continued, “and make sure that these Highlanders and the woman that you seek who is leading them are put down once and for all. The orders that have been given for that by the king are non-negotiable.”

  Lord Henry felt weakened, powerless, his ego now completely put in check by his overbearing father. “And what will I do, father?”

  The Earl looked up from the map. “Nothing at all. I am your father. You are my son. That means I must protect you from all dangers, even if that means protecting you from yourself.”

  Lord Henry didn’t know what to do. He had no control, no ability to negotiate. “Father,” he began, “I—”

  “I believe that is enough for today,” the Earl said, moving toward the flap of his tent. “You will rest here and do as I say, when I say, and not move an inch otherwise.” He opened the flap and prepared to step out but looked back at his son and bid him his last words of the reprimanding. “No more drinking. No more indulgence. From here on out you will be a model example of the kingdom, otherwise—I will kill you and I will not have any shred of regret over the matter. My name, my house, will always come first, blood or no blood.” The Earl then departed, the flap of the tent thrown behind him like the trailing of a robe as Lord Henry stood there with a reddened expression.

  Stephen reentered the tent. “My Lord,” he said. “Is all well?”

  Lord Henry was still consumed by the anger his father had instilled him, practically shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he leveled his attention on the map next to him. “No, my dear man,” he said, depleted, “all is not well.”

  “What did the Earl have to say?”

  Lord Henry waved Stephen off. “What I had expected. And my reaction, though it dismays me, was exactly as I expected as well.” He sat on the edge of the table, his gaze drifting as a wry smile formed. “He believes I am incapable to lead. He believes me to be nothing more than a careless child with no other intention than my own selfish devices.”

  “He is wrong, my Lord.”

  Lord Henry shook his head. “No…No, my father is right. I only care for what pleases me. I only wish to indulge and participate in the things that I wish to. I could care less about his legacy. I could care less about the plight of our countrymen and the king that rules us.” He stood up, walking towards Stephen. “No, my dear man. My father is right—I want nothing more than to wed that Scottish bride of mine despite what the downfall will entail.” He placed his hands on Stephen’s shoulders, much like his own father had just done to him, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I will kill my father. Soon. And then I will take my bride and burn the Highlands down until they are nothing more than ash…What say you, my good man? What say you to this proposition?”

  Stephen took his time to answer. He was a man, like Lord Henry, who had lived most of his life taking what he wanted and killing all those who stood in the way. He was a knight that belonged to the Earl, and a proposition like this would be one that he, due to his duty, should have been reporting—but he wouldn’t.

  As Stephen showcase his gray and soot-saturated teeth, he bowed his head at Lord Henry, sucked in a gulp of air, and said: “I will do whatever you wish my Lord. Whatever you wish.”

  Lord Henry laughed. “Excellent, my friend…Then as it is said, so shall it will be.”

  The two then went about conspiring to kill the Earl, forming a plan and then exiting the tent when the Earl called for supper. Lord Henry sat to the right of his father the whole time, smiling, nodding his head in agreement at all the Earl’s statements and speeches, and desperately awaiting the following evening to arrive when he would take the dagger that Stephen gave him and set about burying it deep into his father’s back.

  Chapter 17

  Isla couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things as unresolved with Finlay as she did. Only an hour had passed since he left the tent and most of the clan was well asleep. Once she was certain she could hear the snoring, and nothing but the darkness of night was holding sway, she requested for him to come back into the tent.

  “Are ye aw right, my lady?” he asked as he entered.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and found it almost unbearable to make contact with his. “I am sorry,” she said. “I am sorry fer all that I must be putting ye through.”

  He traced his finger along her red and tear-saturated cheeks. “Do nae apologize. Ye are just doing what is in the best interest fer yer people.”

  “I am so confused.”

  “We aw are. This is life. Uncertainty is what defines our very existence.”

  She held his face in her hands. “I wish it were simple.”.

  She nodded. “I ken. And I dinnae relish leading ye on and off with me emotions. I believe…” she stifled more tears, “I believe that I hae made a mistake laying with ye, with allowing ye inside of me bed and me heart.”

  Finlay had begun to feel the worst pain in his life, the same pain he felt when he lost his first love so long ago. He had lost family and friends throughout countless years of strife and anguish, but no pain was more grueling than that of losing someone he was slowly giving his heart over to.

  “I dinnae want this,” Isla said, shaking her head in defiance. “I dinnae want tae hurt ye.”

  Finlay held up his hand and did his best to stay strong. “Nae mair apologies must be made, my Lady,” he said. “Ye are right in saying that this is nae meant tae be.”

  Isla wiped her tears, swallowed her sadness, and stood like the tall, proud leader of the clan that she was. “When me people and I find our new home,” she said, “we must part ways. I ask, and only if ye agree, to stay on until such time to ensure yer survival and that of me clan.”

  A dutiful nod from the Highlander. “I understand, me Lady. I respect yer wishes.” He turned around. Stopped. Looked back. “And I admire ye. I admire yer honesty and yer drive tae do what is right.”

  Finlay then left, for the final time, and left behind his hopes and dreams and the potential romance he had sought out with Isla. But like many things in his life that had not played out how he had hoped, he accepted it, held his head high, and lived to fight another day. As he left, Isla wept herself to sleep, angry and confused and wishing that everything would just
melt away like she did several nights in the arms of her now former lover.

  Sean was seated on the wheel wagon not far from Isla’s tent, a bottle of wine in his hand that he had hoped would drown the thoughts out of Lukas’ death when it actually did nothing more than further fuel the rage.

  Sean took a hard swig from the bottle when he saw Finlay walking in his direction. The two briefly caught gazes, but Finlay looked away out of shame and attempted to walk past the wheel wagon before Sean shouted out: “Finlay Baird.”

  Finlay stopped in his tracks. He turned around hands on his hips and his head hung low. “Sean,” he said.

  Sean took another pull from the bottle and hopped off the wagon, his posture loose and saturated with liquor as he squared off against Finlay. Nothing was said for a few moments as he looked at Finlay from head to toe. “Ye hae killed many a man in yer lifetime, aye Highlander?”