Highland Trails of Love

by Barbara Bard

  Without saying another word, Sarah left, leaving Catherine to wait again. She sighed, and patiently waited for time to pass.

  Sometime later, Catherine heard loud shouting and cheers. The hunting party had returned, and with them they seemed to have brought back a vast amount of meat. Catherine's eyes went wide at the gluttonous amount they were going to consume. In time, the guard opened her door and escorted her down to the dining hall.

  Catherine was taken aback by the cacophony and chaos. She had been given a seat next to Sarah and Rosemary, but really the entire thing was horrible. Everyone was moving about as though they owned the place. There was no sense of order at all, and the Highlanders seemed to be quite drunk already. She shook her head and yearned to be in her own dining room with pristine plates and a pleasing amount of food, not these chunks of meat that were left on the table. People were helping themselves. Sarah reached over and placed some food on Catherine's plate.

  “If you do not take anything, you'll end up with nothing,” she advised. This was madness! Fancy having to take food yourself. Where were the servants when you needed them? Catherine sighed and picked at the meat. It was pleasing, and as she began to eat her stomach rumbled, but the atmosphere left much to be desired. If this was what Highlander life was like, as Sarah claimed, then Catherine was quite sure she did not want any part of it.

  The biggest surprise of the evening was that Declan seemed to be the guest of honor. Blair made a speech at the beginning of the feast saying that the best cut of meat was all down to Declan, and told a story about how Declan had chased down a stag. It was an impressive feat, and seemed more real than the stories Harold used to tell her over dinner. His tall tales were always designed to make people think he was a fierce hunter and warrior, when in truth Catherine always knew them to be falsehoods.

  Harold had developed a talent for lying from a young age, always making Mother and Father proud of his deeds when in fact he had exaggerated his claims. It had amused Catherine at dinner when Harold had tried to impress Sarah, knowing that many of the stories had been lies. It amused her now to think that Harold had been undone by a lie. It seemed poetic somehow. While Harold was trying to make himself seem more impressive Sarah was sitting there, pretending to be his bride-to-be, all the time holding a deep secret within her, plotting her escape. For all of Harold's lofty opinion of himself he hadn’t anticipated that happening.

  Unlike her brother, Declan didn't seem at ease with attention. The story of the hunt brought much attention down upon him, but he shied away, blushing and smiling. It was sweet in a way, to see that a man who looked like a warrior was still a boy at heart. There were some moments when Catherine could almost believe that Declan had a gentle soul, which set him apart from the rest of the brutes.

  During the feast Catherine sat quietly, minding her own business, watching the course of events with curiosity. Unlike the feasts she was used to, there were no courses. All the food was placed out, and when one joint of meat had been eaten another was brought out in a seemingly endless parade. After a couple of plates Catherine was quite full, but the Highlanders ate and ate a quite remarkable amount of food. Frankly, Catherine was surprised that none of them burst, they ate so much.

  There were a few moments when she was tempted to slip away, wondering if she could use the confusion and chaos to her advantage. There were so many bodies around that it seemed quite easy for her to escape, but every time she considered doing so she caught either Sarah or Rosemary staring at her. It seemed quite inconvenient, almost as though they had a window into her thoughts.

  The two Sassenach girls smiled and seemed to be enjoying themselves, although Catherine didn't know how that was possible. They engaged in conversation with her a few times, but Catherine wasn't in the mood to talk. When she was in her element she was often a social butterfly, the light and life of the party, but that was when she was with civilized people who appreciated what she had to offer. Usually all she had to do was flutter her eyelashes and all the attention would be on her, but it seemed as though in this place she was being ignored.

  Although there was much that could draw her interest, her gaze often drifted over to Declan. He was moving from table to table, enjoying a drink at all of them, and enjoying the company of adoring women. The buxom Highlander girls fawned over him in a display that lacked any hint of subtlety.

  Catherine found herself rolling her eyes on more than one occasion. The art of seduction was obviously lost on these women, and she found herself wondering how Declan could be so stupid as to fall for such obvious ploys. The girls sat on his lap, took him up for a dance, and passed him around like a trophy. Every one of them wanted a piece of him, and jealousy flashed inside Catherine, even though she did not know why.

  It wasn't as though she had any claim to him, or any desire to be with him. The thought made her sick, and yet she couldn't help but gaze with ire at the girls who circled him. Perhaps it was because the two of them had shared conversation. None of the girls knew him in the same way as she did, and it was hard for her to admit that somebody else was the star of a feast when usually it was her. There were a few eyes on her, but the only ones were lecherous gazes of men who had had far too much to drink, and Catherine would much rather have ignored them.

  “Are ye haeing fun, lass?” Declan said, suddenly in front of her, a wide smile on his face. His eyes were red and he was evidently enjoying himself, although he smelled of ale and meat. Sweat glistened on his skin as he had been dancing so much, and he was flanked by two girls, who narrowed their eyes at her. Catherine enjoyed the small victory of winning Declan's attention from them.

  “Hardly. This isn't my kind of party,” she replied, turning up her nose.

  “Ach, ye need tae cheer up! Are ye nae glad at least tae be out of that room? Ye should celebrate. Life is meant tae be lived!”

  “You certainly seem in a better mood than when we last spoke.”

  “Aye, well, a good hunt will dae that tae ye. Maybe ye should try it one day,” he said, his words slurring together.

  “Hunting is not something a lady does.”

  “Oh, and what does a lady dae?” Declan asked. Catherine considered her words for a moment before she replied.

  “A lady does all manner of things. She educates herself, she reads, writes, dances-”

  “Dances?” Declan's eyes lit up as soon as she uttered the word, and before she could do anything Declan had pulled her up in his strong arms. He whisked her away from the table, ignoring her protests, and pulled her into the middle of the room.

  “Unhand me!” she yelled, but to no avail. Declan began to twirl her around even though there was no music, but the rest of the Highlanders soon became aware of what was going on and sang a jaunty tune. Catherine set her face as hard as stone, but she was not going to be shown up by a Highlander. If he wanted to get her dancing, then she would dance, and show them what dancing truly was.

  The rhythm of the music wasn't as slow and elegant as she was used to, but Catherine had always been light on her feet and adjusted quickly. She was agile and lithe, and danced with great vigor. There was a moment when all the Highlanders stared at her in awe, and a moment when Catherine actually smiled. It was perhaps the first time she had truly been happy since being taken from the camp of the Sassenach army, and glee filled her heart at the simple joy of dancing.

  For a few moments she lost herself.

  “I thought a warrior like you should be able to keep up!” she cried, challenging Declan. The young man's face twisted with effort as he tried to keep pace with Catherine, but his bulky frame was not made for dancing like her slender body was. Her feet tapped on the stone floor, the sound of her dancing dwarfed by the singing of the Highlanders. It was a raucous, jolly atmosphere. She smiled at Declan, teasing him as she moved her feet faster and faster, always pushing him to keep up, and to her surprise he made a good try of it.

  Perhaps if he had been in a soberer state he would have been able to push h
er to her limits, but with his alcohol-addled body he was growing clumsy and slow, and Catherine knew that she was going to win. Indeed, she began to dance a circle around him, making a mockery of a Highland jig, although her captors took it in good humor and roared with laughter.

  “You are not as light on your feet as you think you are,” Catherine said through panting breaths. Declan didn't seem to take kindly to this. He placed his hands on Catherine's body and began to swing her through the air. Catherine yelped at first, but then was exhilarated by the sensation of being lifted and swung, her feet leaving the ground.

  Laughter burst forth from her lips. To her surprise she was not scared at all, for Declan had a firm grip on her arms. His muscles tensed as he held her tightly, and the entire hall became a blur. The only thing that remained in focus was him, only him, and in that moment, he became something other than a Highlander to her. He became a handsome man.

  Declan eventually set Catherine down on her feet. She landed with a thud, and so abruptly that she clung to Declan's body, putting her face against his chest. She breathed in his masculine musk and felt the tightness of his powerful body. Something stirred deep within her, something she had never felt before. Time seemed to stand still as their eyes met. There was a strange look in his, and then sense overcame her. She pulled away and regained her composure.

  “Well, I believe I have proved my point,” she said, smoothing down her skirt and wiping the sweat from her brow. She returned to her seat, giving the Highlanders a curtsy, for they were highly pleased and entertained with her showing. Declan was in a little bit of a stupor and was quickly taken away by some of the other girls. Catherine's head and heart were swimming. What was this strange sensation within her?

  “That was quite a show,” Rosemary said when Catherine returned to her seat.

  “It needed to be done. I was not going to be shown up by a Highlander,” she replied.

  “You did us proud. It was good to see you smile again, Catherine,” Sarah said. “I told you that this life isn't as bad as you think. You can do anything you want here, be anything you want. All you have to do is give yourself to this life and it can all be yours.”

  “Right now all I want to do is to rest my legs. I haven't danced like that in a long time,” Catherine said, not wanting to admit that Sarah was right. There was no way she could have danced like that in her own home, and certainly not so suddenly. Life here was anything but stuffy, and she knew that was what awaited her at home. Whoever her father had picked out for her would have many rules and a stern household, for that was the way of Sassenach lords. Catherine held many opinions about the Highlanders, but she could certainly not deny that they knew how to have fun.

  The feast continued long into the night, and it was a night filled with song and ale. There was no end to the festivities and their stamina impressed Catherine. She was beginning to falter, as was Sarah, although Rosemary seemed to have adjusted to this life completely.

  For the rest of the night Catherine was content to look at Declan. She was unable to forget the feeling of being in his arms. The passion inside her was something she had only read about in literature and didn't think actually existed in the real world. Perhaps it was what had drawn Sarah and Rosemary to this life. But while it was an enjoyable feeling it was nothing that could be sustained, nothing that could promise a life. There were other things that mattered more, like family, reputation, wealth, and for all that the Highlanders were rich in spirits, they were poor in all the things that mattered to Catherine.

  Declan would surely find some happiness with one of the girls who were hanging around his neck, that was if he survived the attack by her father. Suddenly she found herself overwhelmed with sadness. She found the thought of Declan dying quite unappealing, and the sorrow settled in her heart for the remainder of the evening.

  It soon came time for many of the Highlanders to rest. Catherine herself was yawning dramatically and actually looked forward to spending a night in her bed.

  “Are ye tired, lass?” Declan said, sauntering over. Catherine hadn't spoken to him since they had danced, but he had been on her mind.

  “Perhaps a little.”

  “Then I should escort ye tae bed.”

  “Are you sure you can tear yourself away from your admirers?” Catherine asked, arching an eyebrow. Declan looked back at a group of girls who were tittering with laughter and waving to him. When he turned back to Catherine he was blushing. This somehow endeared him to her.

  “Aye, they are just lasses who enjoy a feast,” he said. Catherine looked at him curiously.

  “And you would rather escort me to bed than spend more time with them?”

  “It is my duty,” Declan said after a moment's consideration, but somehow Catherine knew that he was lying. They had shared a moment when dancing, and it was difficult to ignore.

  As the two of them slipped away from the main chamber Catherine wished in her mind that they were at a social engagement in England, and that Declan was an Sassenach lord looking for a bride. She'd much prefer to marry someone like him rather than a stuffy old man whose best years were behind him, and indeed life would be much easier if this had been England. Yet there was no forgetting that they were in a castle in the Highlands, and that she was a prisoner.

  “What did ye think of yer first Highland feast?” Declan asked as they ascended the steps.

  “It was interesting. Quite raucous, as I imagined. I still think I prefer Sassenach parties. There is more dignity to them.”

  “They sound boring.”

  “Perhaps one day you will get a chance to attend, and then you can make up your mind for yourself.”

  “I very much doubt I'll be in England. My home is here. My place is here. I am a Highlander,” he said, puffing out his chest with pride. Catherine stifled a laugh. This was a different side to him than when they had first met. He had been a surly drunk, flinging insults at her, swallowed up by bitterness. Now, he was in much better spirits, and she would almost say that he was a pleasure to be around.

  They reached her room and paused outside. Catherine tilted her head back and looked up at him, drinking him in. Torches had been lit. The soft fire crackled, and cast him in an amber glow. He looked every inch a man, and it was as though Catherine was seeing him in a new light.

  “Did this hurt?” she said, reaching out a tentative hand to trace a line down his scar. He looked down at it.

  “More than anything else,” he said. “I was scared,” he admitted.

  “I can't imagine what it must have been like,” she said, thinking about all the men who had lost their lives. Whenever she closed her eyes she could hear their horrible, scared screams, the pleas for death, and she wished that they would go away, that she could return to her sheltered life. “I suppose you'll be going to rejoin the feast now. You are the guest of honor, after all. I suppose I shall have another guard tonight.”

  “Nae lass, I shall stay with ye. I will be right here outside your door,” he said. Something about the way he said it reassured Catherine, and the corners of her lips curled into a smile, pleased that he would stay.

  She nodded at him, and then went into her room, shutting the door behind her. She peeled off her clothes, said her nightly prayers at the window, and then pulled the blanket over her, ready to fall asleep with a smile on her lips.

  The night hadn't been as worthless as she had feared, although she wasn't quite ready to accept that Sarah was right. However, after a few moments had passed Catherine's thoughts were interrupted by a startling realization. Something was different about this night. There had been no turning of the key. In his drunken stupor Declan had forgotten to lock the door!

  Catherine's heart beat frantically within her breast, for she knew this was the opportunity she had been waiting for, praying for, as long as Declan did not realize his mistake. She clutched the blanket tightly, hoping that she would not hear the key turn in the lock, hoping that the door would remain open and free for her to l
eave.

  But of course, it had to happen on this of all nights. This was the first time Catherine had actually felt herself being happy here. There was a chance that it could happen, for if it could happen for Rosemary and Sarah then it could happen for Catherine as well, but she had yearned for freedom so fiercely that anything to the contrary was unpalatable.

  Then there was Declan as well. Was it right that he should play such a big role in her mind? He was a Highlander, savage and brutal, yet he had shown himself to be tender and thoughtful as well. The hidden depths that Catherine had witnessed made her think twice, for she knew that if she returned she would be married off to a decrepit old man with little hope of passion. Certainly, he wouldn't be able to swing her around while dancing as Declan had done.

  And yet she could not fight the urge to escape. Her place was in England. That was where she belonged, and no matter how much fun the feast had been she could not pass up this chance to escape, especially because she didn't know if another would present itself. Furthermore, if she escaped she could prevent her father from declaring war and death could be averted. There would be no need for him to fight if she returned safely, and Declan could be safe.