Highland Soldiers: The Enemy

by J. L. Jarvis

“Friends?” Callum said dryly.

  “Friends? No. That is not what we are.”

  With a knowing tilt of his head, he acknowledged her point.

  “You have come on our land to force your religion upon us. We dinnae want you here. We are foes.” She stopped, seemingly satisfied with her conclusion.

  Her conclusion felt quite like a wall.

  Her eyes darted about, seeking any sight but his troubling gaze. His silence made her feel as though she needed to explain herself further. “Royalists just killed my brother and my friend, both of whom I dearly loved.”

  “I’m sorry. I ken that your loss is a deep one.”

  “Aye,” she said softly.

  Gently, he said, “And you ken that my kinsmen suffered similar grief.”

  “Aye.”

  “But you and I have done nothing to hurt one another.”

  He tenderly lifted her chin. Reluctantly, she shook her head.

  His fond look settled on her.

  She said, “Tomorrow—or the next day—in battle, one of my people might kill your brother and your dear friend. Will you feel the same then?”

  “Unless you hold the sword, I will view you as separate.”

  This troubled her. “I cannot view you that way. You make me uneasy. You look like the others, and, given the chance, you will act like the others. You are one of them.”

  “I am.” He could not refute it. “But am I not more than just that?”

  “To us, you are one more thing the king has forced upon us.”

  “But what am I to you?”

  Her agitation mounted. Her eyes darted to the door, but he stepped in her path.

  Frustrated, she said, “You are someone I wish would stay out of my way.”

  “I will not.” He was quiet, but firm.

  “Why?” she asked helplessly.

  “Because I can protect you.”

  “From whom?” She leveled a look that convicted him, for in truth any danger ahead would most likely be at the hands of some royalist forces. How could he admit that there were Highlanders—not from his clan—but others who were taking property, sometimes women, on the lands that they occupied? His jaw clenched with the taste of his own hypocrisy.

  She leveled a glare. “You are my enemy, and I am yours, Ensign MacDonell.”

  “Callum,” he insisted, as though stripping himself of his rank might help her see him as a man apart from other Highland dragoons. “Mari, please dinnae judge me for things I have not even done.”

  “Callum.” She now turned his name on him like a weapon. Her contempt made it sound like a curse. “You are a strong man with deep convictions. I admire that. I do.”

  He knew he was going to wish she had stopped there.

  She went on with a bluntness that disarmed him. “You have chosen to fight for your clan. I suppose that I must admire that, but it sets us at odds. Nothing can ever change that.”

  Her words stung, but he steeled his expression. “I am just Callum.”

  Her expression softened. “No, you are so much more than that.” She lifted sorrowful eyes that searched his, looking lost.

  Callum let that look wash over him until his lips parted.

  “Good day, Callum.” Marion turned and walked to her house.

  *

  Marion’s mother called out from the kitchen. “Are you finished with the cows already?”

  “Aye, Mum.”

  “And the chickens?”

  “Aye, Mum.”

  “Marion?” Her mother came to a stop at the doorway. “Be wary around those Highlanders. They’re not like us. If any of them talk to you, just act like you dinnae ken what they’re saying and keep walking.”

  “Aye, Mum.”

  She ran into her room, shut the door and leaned on it. God help her, she hated him—and herself. She had spoken her true mind, but her true heart had been silent. She now breathed out what was on her heart in a whisper: “Callum MacDonell.”

  Chapter 7

  Callum stared at the night sky, unable to sleep. He believed in his reason for fighting. His people had been attacked first by the Covenanters. It was they who had come—four thousand of them—to his land, to his home. But they had not merely occupied homes as his people did now. Covenanters destroyed homes and villages. Forty years had since passed, but Highland memories ran deep. To fight back was a matter of honor and loyalty to family and clan. Unlike the English, Highland strength was built not on owning land but on the number and loyalty of its people. Honor bound them together and gave them their might. This was his duty, and he would not waver.

  Callum understood Mari’s feelings. She had lost her brother and friend at the hands of a rogue unit of soldiers who were using the law to justify their blood sport. He did not know them, but they fought for the crown, on the same side and for the same cause. The actions of one reflected upon the other, and so he was tainted in Mari’s eyes. He knew that in battle not all men behaved honorably. It occurred on both sides. It was wrong. But all he could do was to control himself and his men and ensure that they fought for their cause in a way that brought honor to their clan and the people back home.

  He could not deny that he was glad to be here. Mari McEwan had changed him. She lingered on his mind, and his heart, and she gave him new purpose. He wanted to know her and win her heart over. Being here gave him time. In the meanwhile, he would keep her safe. It was a noble excuse for the truth, which was that she stirred longings in him, and this drove his desire to know her and watch over her.

  His clansmen would protect her. He need only ask. They might have been full of whisky and mischief earlier, but they were good lads. He knew them, and trusted them with his life and with hers. He could not speak for the other Highlanders about them, though. While Mari might view him as an intruder, the truth was that by being there, he indeed protected her from the harm others might do. If his presence did that, he would not regret or apologize for it.

  The next question was harder. If his honor were put to the test, which would win? If he had to choose between his desire for Mari or his honor to the crown for which he had sworn to fight loyally, what would he do?

  Now who’s the fool, Callum MacDonell? She hates you, and for good reason. Walk away. Let her grieve. You can only hurt her—and yourself in the bargain.

  *

  In the weeks that followed, Callum saw little of Mari. He forced himself to stay distant. Ignoring her came at a cost, but he did his best to respect her wishes. He had told her his feelings and she had rebuffed him. There was nothing to do but to wait. He hoped that she would change her mind, but days passed.

  He was called, on occasion, to report back to Glasgow. The distance gave him relief from the arduous task of concealing his feelings for Mari, but he became consequently ill tempered, a state which did not escape the notice of his men. Alex made a snide remark about it—once. Nearly coming to blows, the subject was not brought up again, but seething looks were exchanged and a new unspoken rule was set. They would not discuss Mari.

  He could avoid her, but he could not ignore her. When he did hide the yearning, it was close to the surface. At unavoidable moments, his eyes would meet hers and betray all. It was worth every pang of emotion to see that she worked just as hard to hide her own feelings for him. These infrequent glimpses into Mari’s heart gave him hope and exhilarating torment.

  No matter where their hearts led, she would not let him follow, for he was the enemy. She had lost too much to see past it, and soon she would lose more. When her desperate condition came to light, she would face the kirk’s judgment. If she only would have him, Callum would spare her. But any attachment to a Highland dragoon would bring worse judgment upon her, perhaps worst of all from her own conscience.

  And so they were apart, and would stay so. This made her clearly the wiser in his eyes, for her resolve was much stronger than his. He was afflicted with a ridiculous longing that drove him to watch her until he was sure he’d go daft from desire. She s
tayed close by her parents, smart girl, when Callum was in sight. For this reason, Callum grew increasingly fond of her mother for sending Mari outside to do chores and requiring her company for long spells outside doing needlework. Once he ventured too close and, catching his gaze, Mari’s face flushed. He liked to think that her fingers had trembled, but he was not close enough to have seen.

  On such a day, Callum returned with his men from a survey of the area, scouting for caves that peppered the moors, providing hidden shelter for Covenanter ringleaders.

  As they led their horses into the byre, Alex said, “If I have to endure one more drowsy afternoon on the moors, I’ll go daft.”

  Charlie said, “Shall I stir up a wee war—just to keep us from getting rusty?”

  Callum smiled and said, “We’re supposed to be rooting out trouble, not causing it.” As he spoke, he caught sight of Mari, and his words trailed off.

  Duncan followed Callum’s gaze and said, “Aye.”

  Alex and Charlie quickly went on to talk about their next trip to Glasgow and how they would take Hughie to a nanny house. After Hughie endured some good-natured teasing, the lads were away, jabbing and chasing each other in the direction of the kitchen to see if they could cajole some food out of the cook.

  That was, all except Callum, who lingered behind to brush his horse. Thoroughly—in hope it might afford him a glimpse of Mari. But with his task now complete, Callum stood in the shadow of the doorway and leaned with arms folded, while he wished for Mari to emerge with her near-sighted mother to work on her stitching.

  By my sword! What a pitiful wretch I am!

  Determined to shake off this mood, Callum walked to the doorway in time to see the minister and his son arrive on horseback. He stepped back into the shadow until they had entered the house. Knowing Charlie, he and the others would charm the news out of the kitchen help. It was a warm summer day. Windows were open. Callum sat down by the side of the house between bits of shrubbery and waited.

  Spying was, it turned out, a dull endeavor, with rare bouts of peril thrown in to make it worthwhile. He was deeply involved with cleaning the grit from his fingernails with his dirk while he waited. Callum had, weeks before, determined the lay of the rooms in the house. He had concealed himself here while the guests had arrived and got settled. Now, horses in the stable and guests safely inside, he could go unobserved to the sitting room windows. Between meals, the dining room tended to go unvisited, so there was nothing to gain from lingering here any longer. He had decided to move on to the sitting room window when he heard a man’s voice from inside. Of the two who’d arrived, this had to be the younger. It was a clear, youthful voice and, regrettably for speaker, Callum thought, rather high. No doubt, this was the minister’s son.

  “Marion,” said the young man in hushed tones.

  Callum silently cursed him as he crouched beneath the window and listened.

  “I have reason to believe that you are with child.”

  The lout. Callum listened intently as he thought how to spare Mari this painful conversation.

  “Well, your reason fails you,” she answered.

  Good lass. Callum smiled.

  “Does it?” The man would not be deterred.

  His voice took on an edge that was sinister in its softness. Callum stood to the side of the open window and, risking detection, peered in through the crack between the hinges.

  With a searing look, Thomas said, “’Tis a sin to lie, Marion.”

  “‘Twas a sin to lie with you.” She lifted her chin and regarded him with bitter accusation, even as her trembling hand clutched the back of a chair for support. “And I regret it.”

  “Do you, Marion?” He stepped closer, until the fabric of their clothing touched. Thomas’s eyes lit with fervor. In a quiet voice laced with menace, he said, “Just tell me that there is no bairn.” Mari’s eyes darted about, catching sight of a shadowy figure in the window beside her. Her eyes widened as she recognized Callum.

  Thomas edged closer. “I will not let you ruin me, Marion.” With a sudden move that made Mari gasp, he pulled her against him and buried his face in her neck. His mouth slid up her neck to her ear.

  “Not like you ruined her, you heap of swine slop.” Callum leapt through the window.

  Thomas swung about to face him, holding Mari between them.

  “Let her go,” Callum said with a dark, restrained tone.

  “What, and release her to the hands of a Highland barbarian?”

  Callum leveled a calm but formidable look. “You stand before me forcing a woman to act as your shield, and you call me the barbarian?” Callum’s mouth spread into a smile that was chilling.

  As Thomas breathed in his anger, Mari sank her teeth into his hand. With a curse, he released her. Callum scooped her into his arms. “I’ll be right there, lassie,” he said, plopping her to the ground outside the window.

  Thomas landed a blow to Callum’s ribs just as Callum swung round and jabbed Thomas in the jaw, then the belly, knocking the wind out of him. Callum stood for a moment and studied the father of Mari’s bairn, on his knees doubled over at his feet. He resisted the temptation to shove his boot in the lout’s teeth. He could so easily finish him off in an instant, but Mari’s family was in the next room. They were ignorant of any of this; and, for Mari’s sake, it would be best to leave him, for now. Hoisting himself over the sill, Callum landed beside her.

  “Fancy a ride?” he asked, grabbing her hand. Without waiting for an answer, he started to head for the byre. When she failed to follow he said, “Come, lass. We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Oh, aye,” she said, her dazed mind catching up to the swiftly unfolding events. She ran with him. Callum saddled his horse within a minute.

  “Marion?” Thomas called out with disturbing sangfroid as he approached the byre, having taken more than a few moments to recover from the force of Callum’s fist before looking for them. He arrived in time to jump out of the way of Callum’s horse as it stormed out of the byre and out onto the moor, leaving Thomas with little to do but glare as they rode off together.

  Mari circled her arms about Callum’s waist and clung dearly as they rode over the moors. Feeling her turn, Callum glanced back as well. “He did not follow. I dinnae think he has the ba—em, inclination.”

  “He wouldnae stray so far from his daddy,” she said bitterly.

  They rode into a forest of green birches that grew from a violet blanket of bluebells. When they stopped, Callum circled Mari’s waist with his arm and lowered her gently to the ground. Then he dismounted.

  He left Storm to graze, tethered to a low hanging branch, while he took Mari’s hand and led her into the forest. The air smelled of coming rain, while the birches rustled as if to whisper the same.

  “You’re cold,” said Callum as he saw Mari shiver.

  “I’m not sure if I’m cold or just shaken.”

  Callum unwrapped enough of his plaid to wrap around her. She dissolved into tears as she leaned her head on his chest. He held her, enveloped in his plaid and his arms. When her weeping subsided, she lifted her eyes. That one look did away with any resolve he had left. Her full lips parted only a bit. “Mari,” came his voice, rough and aching.

  Rain dropped from the shivering leaves. Mari looked up at Callum and wiped drops of rain from his face with soft hands.

  “God’s teeth, woman.” He practically growled.

  Mari shrank back, unsure of what had displeased him so.

  Tenderly, he took her hands and held them in his as he took a step back to put space between them. His dark gaze bore through her. “If you touch me again, by my dirk, I shall kiss you.”

  Callum turned away and leaned his bent arm on the tree trunk. He breathed slowly and tamped down his emotions, as he had done so many times in battle. But these were far different emotions, and the battle was against a more formidable foe: his own heart. Bracing himself, he tried to focus his thoughts. The first thing he had to do was get out of
these cursed woods, with their rich hues and soft shadows that soothed and seduced. “Fie on this rain. Will it ever stop?” He spat out the words.

  Mari spoke in serene tones that worsened his struggle. “Dinnae curse the rain. It will stop in its time.”

  How could she be calm when he ached for her? It was unbearable. Callum glared at the tree trunks darkened by rain as the soft tapping of droplets on leaves failed to soothe him.

  “Callum?” She touched her hand to his shoulder. He tensed.

  “Is your dirk oath not good, then?”

  Callum turned to face her with a puzzled expression. It took him a moment to recall his own words. If you touch me again, by my dirk, I shall kiss you.

  She flew into his arms, and his mouth covered hers. She fit against him too well as he tightened his grip. The mist may as well have thickened about them, for it seemed as though nothing existed but them. He touched her hair, now drenched by the rain, and stroked the wet strands from her brow. Longing lit his eyes, and she returned his gaze with unbound emotion.

  Callum yearned to take her right there. As he slid his hands to her waist, he gently pushed her away. “Lass, I must take you back now.”

  Chapter 8

  In the morning, Callum stood at the door as Sally, the servant girl, opened it. Her recognized her as the one who had a sweet spot for Hughie. She told him that Mari lay in bed, burning with fever.

  “Shall I fetch a doctor?” asked Callum, inwardly kicking himself for having taken her out in the rain. And yet what choice had he been given?

  “It’s just a wee chill. Grizzal MacRorie is tending to her now.”

  She answered Callum’s questioning look. “She’s the healer and midwife.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “No.” Sally glanced toward the footsteps approaching the stairs. She whispered, “If I can, I’ll come fetch you later.”

  Callum nodded and left as she closed the door.

  *

  Marion spent several feverish days in bed. Grizzal MacRorie came daily to tend to her with her teas and poultices. Once, in a fevered delirium, Marion threw off her quilt and sat up. Frantically she pulled at her shift, damp with sweat, desperate to cool herself. Grizzal found a clean shift to put on her. A seasoned midwife, Grizzal had suspected as much when she saw Mari get sick outside the byre at the Ferguson farm, but the telltale darkening nipples and thickened waist confirmed in her mind that Mari McEwan was pregnant.