Highland Trails of Love

by Barbara Bard

  “Then it's a shame that Blair makes it so difficult all the time,” Drew said, scowling. “But I will try my best, for the sake of the clan.”

  “That is all I ask. Now then, I suggest that we go and join yer brother and the others for the feast,” Fianna said. Drew nodded and followed his mother down the hill.

  He was left with much on his mind. His mother spoke wise words, but it was often so difficult to make peace with his brother when Blair had so often made it his mission to defy the needs of the clan.

  A cough caught his attention. Drew turned and saw that Deirdre was signaling to him. Drew rolled his eyes. Deirdre was always trying some scheme.

  Ever since Blair had returned with the English girl Deirdre had been scowling and skulking around. She and Blair had shared a kiss once. Deirdre thought that meant more than it did. Now she was a scorned woman and sought revenge on the man who wounded her heart.

  “Mother, I must attend tae something first. I will see ye at the feast,” he said with a sigh.

  Fianna glanced towards Deirdre and gave her son an inscrutable look. He wondered if she knew what the two of them were there to discuss, but no, it was impossible. His mother had the uncanny knack to know many things, but this was not one of them.

  “What took ye so long? I thought we were going tae meet?” Deirdre said in a harsh whisper. Her flaming red hair framed her freckled face. Anger blazed in her eyes.

  “Mother distracted me.”

  “Ye are worse than yer brother for keeping track of time. Have ye thought any more about my proposal?”

  “I have indeed,” Drew said.

  “And?”

  “It is nae right, Deirdre. I know ye hae been insulted by Blair's actions, but it isnae enough tae go tae these lengths.”

  “Nae right? Nae right! Surely ye of all people can see that what Blair has done goes against our blood. Why would we want tae accept a Sassenach girl as one of our own?”

  “Blair is the Laird now. It is his choice,” Drew said in a hollow tone.

  “Blair has made the wrong choice.”

  “Because he chose another woman over you? Deirdre, he didnae make any promises tae ye. Ye shared a brief attraction, but that was all. You had nae claim tae him, and ye are nae justified in plotting against him just because ye are scorned.”

  “I have every right,” Deirdre said, narrowing her eyes at him, “and ye would be wise tae think about what I offer. If this is the choice Blair makes now, imagine what he will make if we go tae war. What if Rosemary's people offer him an alliance? What if she runs back tae them and says that she won't return unless he lays down arms? She is a weakness to him, and we cannae allow her to have so much control over him.”

  “I don't think anyone hae any control over my brother. He hae always been like a storm, tempestuous and uncontrollable. That is why he brought her back in the first place.”

  “I can make it look like an accident. I can get her alone and kill her. Nobody would be able tae trace it back tae me, or ye.”

  “What ye talk of is treason. Ye are fortunate that I don't take this tae Blair himself.”

  “Ye wouldn't dare, because ye feel the same as me. Perhaps all this time I chose tae pursue the wrong brother. Perhaps your father did as well. There are many of us who feel that ye would make a better laird than Blair,” Deirdre said, lowering her tone to a breathy whisper.

  She moved in closer to Drew, placing her hand upon his chest, looking up at him with her sultry green eyes. For a moment Drew was tempted, his manly urges rampaging through his body, but if he gave into her then Deirdre would try and twist his mind to do her bidding.

  Drew took her hand and pulled it away from his chest. Deirdre's face fell, her expression frustrated and annoyed.

  “Be at peace, Deirdre. Forget this course of action. It is nae right that ye should be plotting against the leaders of the clan. Dinnae make any further moves like this or I will be forced tae bring ye before Blair.”

  “If you're taking your brother's side now then ye're as foolish as he is. You know what this clan needs and yer brother cannae provide it.”

  “That may be true. I have my doubts about Blair, but I would never plot against him. Ye do yourself a disservice. It's something the English would do.”

  “Then ye should watch your back because I can guarantee you Rosemary is plotting something. Do ye really think it's just a coincidence that she ran into Blair just as the English were capturing Gall and executing him? There's something strange afoot, Drew, and if ye don't do something soon it'll be too late,” Deirdre said as she stormed off.

  Drew remained standing where he was for a few moments as he let Deirdre's words sink in. He didn't want to believe her, but she made a lot of sense.

  Still, he couldn't allow a plot against his brother to fester, no matter how much he disagreed with some of Blair's decisions. The two of them had been through too much to let their relationship be marred with betrayal, but Drew would have to have a conversation with him now. There was much they needed to discuss and it troubled him.

  Turning on his heels, Drew walked towards the castle where the feast was being held. His heart was heavy, and the air was thick with grim portents of the future. The closer he got to the castle the louder the noise inside grew.

  Before he entered, Drew took a deep breath. With the leaders of the other clans inside, it would be difficult to get an audience with Blair, but he had to speak with Blair about his fears and the grave possibility of a war.

  The tables were already filled with different varieties of food. There were platters of beef and rice. Soups, grapes, and berries were laid on every table. Jugs of ales were being passed around and the atmosphere was filled with excitement. The men were probably talking about the possibility of going to war with the English.

  Drew scanned the room for Blair and saw him seated with some of the leaders of the clan in a discussion.

  It would indeed be difficult to get an audience with Blair, so his thoughts would have to linger within him for now. Hopefully Blair would see reason, and hopefully, Rosemary wasn't plotting against him.

  Drew tried to remember the words his mother had told him and promised himself he would do his best to live up to his father's wishes. The only thing standing in the way was Blair, for if his brother was unreasonable, or if Blair's judgment had been impaired by the love he had for Rosemary, Drew would have to take matters into his own hands. It was a last resort, but a possibility nonetheless.

  The mood was buoyant as they all enjoyed the company of each other. Some rivalries were still strong, but these people avoided each other and merely passed the occasional glare across the room. Drew assumed it wouldn't be long until a fight broke out however; at least one usually did on these occasions.

  Drew was proud of his people for never allowing death and hardship to tie them down. It wasn't only Aife who had died, but also Gall. The news of the death of Ciaran's son had hit all of them hard, but the mourning period was not going to override the joys of a feast.

  Drew walked into the hall and waved to a few others, greeting more as they cheered his arrival. He walked to the head table where Blair rose and wrapped a strong arm around Drew's neck. His breath was heavy with the stench of alcohol.

  “Brother! I was wondering when ye were going tae show up,” he said.

  “I havenae missed too much, hae I?”

  “Nay, nay, the party is just getting started!” Blair yelled in his deep brogue.

  His words were met with a loud cheer. He thrust a mug of ale into Drew's hand and gestured for him to sit down. Drew looked beyond his brother to see Rosemary sitting there. The English woman was inscrutable. Drew did not know what to make of her. She and Fianna were the only ones who were not throwing themselves into the jovial mood.

  Drew set the mug down and picked up a chicken leg, tearing at it with his teeth. The meat was succulent and tender. The juice ran down his jowls, satisfyingly so. There were few greater pleasures in life than a go
od feast, and Drew's smile was genuine.

  “We must speak later,” Drew said, leaning into his brother.

  “I am sure we will, but there is plenty of time for that later,” Blair said.

  “I just want tae make sure that ye remain clear-headed. There are some serious matters.”

  “I cannae promise ye that!” Blair said, laughing heartily.

  Drew arched his eyebrows and tucked into his meal. Blair seemed to be in good spirits, which was pleasing to see.

  Drew couldn't stop staring at Rosemary though. There were a few moments when she caught him staring at her and met his eyes with a steely gaze. Drew often turned away immediately. Blair had leaped across the table to join in an arm wrestle, leaving Rosemary and Drew by themselves.

  Suddenly, a low drone began. Drew looked up to find people from the Pressley clan singing, waving their ales up in the air. Their honeyed tones were melodious and they caught the attention of everyone in attendance.

  Blair had been engaged in another arm wrestle. He stopped mid-bout and stood up, looking in rapture at the singers. The song spread through the hall, with all the Highlanders standing up and joining in.

  Drew moved to his feet, adding his deep voice to the song. His heart beat with pride as the old familiar song took hold of them in its ethereal grip. He looked around and found them united as brothers, all sharing the same history, the same culture.

  The song was sung loudly and strongly, with real fervor from everyone in attendance, aside from Rosemary. The English girl sat there, looking so small among the burly Highlanders, with a puzzled look on her face. In a way, Drew pitied her, for she was alone in a strange land.

  A few of the Highlanders began weeping, so moved were they by the song. The words swirled around their hearts and souls, eventually fading into nothing but a wisp as they reached the end of the song.

  Silence lingered around them as they thought about those they had lost over the years. A somber mood came across them all, replacing the jovial mood that had been present all through the feast.

  Many of the Highlanders sat down, but Blair remained standing. He wiped his eyes and raised his mug of ale. His booming voice filled the hall.

  “My brothers, that was a fine song. Never hae it been sung with such passion. This hae been a grand occasion and it hae been so good catching wi' ye all, but we cannae forget why we are here. There is a serious matter we must discuss.

  “But first of all, I'd like ye to think of all the people that cannae be here tonight. People like my father. People like Gall. There might be different reasons for their absence, but they are absent all the same.

  “I'm honored to take over from my father, but I wish it didnae hae tae be so. I wish that he were still here, leading this revelry instead o' me. We do nae always get what we want though.

  “You all knew my father. He proved himself in war, and he proved himself in peace. I hope I can be half as good a ruler as he was.

  “But now Gall. What happened tae him was a tragedy. A crime. Justice must be served. Are we tae sit by and let the English kill our men without a trial? Without our knowledge? How many more injustices are we going tae let happen before we put a stop tae it?” Blair spoke with a thunderous voice.

  “What do ye care about that when ye have taken an English lassie tae yer bed!” a voice called out from the crowd.

  A hush descended over the Highlanders. Drew noticed that Rosemary looked very self-conscious and tried to sink into her seat. Drew also noticed that a few other clans were nodding in agreement, which did not bode well for Blair.

  “Who dare say that tae me?” Blair thundered, searching the crowd for the source of the words. “Show yerself!”

  In the corner, an older man pushed himself off his seat. Drew would never have thought Old Will Plumm would have said something so controversial, to a laird nonetheless, but by the way the old man was swaying Drew imagined that ale could always loosen a man's tongue.

  “What do ye have to say tae me?” Blair dared.

  “I hae plenty to say,” Old Will replied, pointing a shaking, gnarled finger at Blair.

  “Ye speak of the English yet ye consort with one. It's one thing tae have an English woman in war. That's the right of any soldier, and I ken there be plenty of men who did the same. I ken I plucked an English rose or two in my time, but how can ye stand there and speak of yer father like that when ye are treading on his grave by having her here. Send her away I say!”

  “How dare ye,” Blair said. “Rosemary is not some war prize, and ye should speak with more respect when it comes tae her. Listen tae me now,” he said, raising his voice.

  Even Drew felt goosebumps crawl and rise along his body.

  “Rosemary is not the enemy. She ran away from the English. She's their victim just as much as any of us hae been. She stays, and any one of ye that has a problem wi' that can take it up with me. And anyone who speaks about her with disrespect can also take it up wi' me. And if ye think I'll be lenient with ye, ye can test that thought,” he said, glaring around the room.

  If there was one thing Blair was good at, it was intimidating a crowd. Even though most of the Highlanders were imposing warriors, Blair had a knack for making himself larger than life. It must have been because of how much time he spent out in the wild, tracking and hunting wild predators. Sometimes Blair was more animal than man, which was perfect for occasions like this.

  Although Drew’s attention was focused on Blair, he spared a thought for Rosemary, wondering what she thought when she saw him like this. Was she afraid of the wild animal, or did she like it?

  “Anyway. We are nae here tae talk about Rosemary. We are here tae talk about the future of the Highlands, and the tragedy that was Gall's death.

  “It seems that the English are looking our way again. Perhaps they think we are unprepared for war, but they are wrong. I ken that if we join forces again, just like the clans did in the last war, we can emerge triumphant. We can beat the English back, this time for good.

  “I dinnae want tae just give them a bloody nose. I want tae send them back so they never return. I want tae send them one last message tae make sure they ken that we are nae here for their amusement.

  “But we must take the vote. Who here is ready for war? Who will pledge themselves to fight the English?”

  Drew looked around, a lump forming in his throat. For a moment there was a tense silence, then, one by one, everyone raised their glasses and met the cry for war.

  “War!” they shouted, their voices as loud as when they had been singing.

  Drew looked around, unsure if this was the right call. War was not to be taken lightly, and it filled him with dread to think that so many of his brethren were so eager and willing to meet Blair's call for war. When he looked around at them he could only think about which ones would die because of the decision made here today.

  Chapter 3

  The time for dinner arrived. Sarah was dressed in a silk dress with gold embroidery. Never in her life has she thought she would be dressed in such luxury. She considered this dress the nicest thing she had ever worn. She didn't think she would ever become comfortable in noble attires.

  When she entered the room Sarah noticed that Catherine and Lord Flynn were already seated, as per usual. The table was filled with all manner of delicious food. Huge slices of meat were laid upon plates, bowls of vegetables were situated in between them, and broth was being ladled into other bowls by the servants.

  One of them, startled by Sarah's arrival, dropped his ladle on the floor. It clattered down and the broth spilled over the floor. Sarah bent down to help him, but Lord Flynn was furious.

  “What are you still doing here, you cretin? Be gone from my sight! You threaten to ruin this dinner, and I will not stand for it. Go and find a new line of work. If I ever see you around here again I will flog you until your blood is as thick as that broth,” he said viciously.

  The servant glanced at Sarah, meeting her eyes for an instant. In them, S
arah saw sheer terror, and then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows. Lord Flynn's face was as dark as thunder.

  “One would think that anyone could do something as simple as ladling broth into a bowl. The peasants don't seem to be able to do even the simplest of tasks. And Rosemary, please don't try and help them. They'll never learn otherwise,” he said.

  Sarah bowed her head in obedience and took her seat. Lord Flynn clapped his hands as she sat down and rubbed them together eagerly.