Her chamber maid would usually be with her throughout the night, but she had taken ill earlier in the evening and had gone back down to the servant’s quarters. Although Bonnie quite liked having the room to herself, she did miss the girlish chatter. She missed having someone to gossip with. She knew that normally in this kind of situation, with men from another highland clan visiting the castle late at night, they would usually spend many hours going over it and fantasizing about all of the possibilities.
She bent down to the fire and began to load on the logs, and as they caught and crackled away, she remembered back to her childhood and of how she had been more than happy to take care of herself. She remembered the long evenings of running across the fields with her father and brothers, watching them clash swords and train to fight. She would regularly return to the castle, nestle down with her mother and younger sister, and tell them the tales of what it was like out there on the Highlands. Bonnie was wild at heart, and she would never change.
Things had seemed so simple back then.
But now, she couldn’t help but feel as if there was a war about to rage, and that her family and their home were vulnerable for the first time in as long as she could remember.
The fire sparked and burned brightly in the hearth. The heat cascaded toward her and she smiled and basked in the delicious feeling of being warmed right through to her bones.
She wiped her hands down her gown and turned back toward the window. Even though the night had come in thick and fast, and her instincts told her that she shouldn’t leave the castle… she couldn’t help but be pulled to nature’s wonderfulness. She thought of the wild, untamed landscape and of all of the stars up above that she hadn’t yet seen.
She gathered up her fur pelt and slung it over she shoulders.
She would have to stop by the main hall on her way downstairs and see if she could hear anything of what was happening, but she was determined, on a clear night such as this, not to miss out on it because of fear.
2.
The corridors of the castle were dark and quiet. Torches burned all along the walls and lit the way along the cold stone floors. Bonnie walked slowly and took in her surroundings. Even though Castle Grant had been her home for her whole life, she was still in awe of it, and its splendor, each time she really noticed the small details.
The ceilings were high and the statues that her ancestors had had forged and placed around the hallways were grand and told the rich history of Clan Grant. Bonnie was proud of her home, and of the people of her family, they had honor and integrity, and she considered herself incredibly lucky to be part of such an important Scottish legacy.
Up ahead, guards were standing proudly on either side of the entrance to the main hall. They wore armor and held shields close to their chests and spears in their hands. Bonnie let her eyes trace over them, across their muscular chests, hidden by chainmail and down to the sheaths that swung down by their sides, keeping their powerful swords safe from view. She felt her longing rise again. Her curiosity was peaking, but she had to remain demure.
“Lady Grant,” one of the guards said as he bowed and stepped to the side.
Bonnie smiled at him sheepishly and felt herself blush. For a woman who was maturing but was still yet to wed, Bonnie couldn’t help but find herself looking at the men who were around the castle, and wondering what it would be like to find herself in their arms.
The guards were fierce and protective, and she liked that about them the most. But they also had a roughness about them that she hadn’t seen much of in her time. She was used to highland men of good breeding, whereas the soldiers and guards that worked for her family were usually a little more untamed.
She waited for them to open the grand, high wooden doors to the main hall for her and then nodded and thanked them as she passed through.
Inside, the atmosphere of an evening at Castle Grant was more subdued that normal. It seemed to Bonnie that there had been some deep discussions taking place, and as she entered, she was sure some of the men and women seated around the top table, where her mother and father were, hushed and turned to stare at her.
“Bonnie,” he father smiled. “You’re out of your chamber very late.”
She hurried past the crowds of folk enjoying their evening meals and drinking wine whilst listening to the bard. She could feel that her cheeks were flushed and embarrassment flooded through her. She hadn’t been expecting to walk in to such a quiet hall, usually it was awash with drunks, singing and dancing.
“I saw the horses head out over the field,” Bonnie whispered to her father as she gathered up her dress and knelt down between him and her mother. “Who were they father?”
He picked up his tankard and took a huge glug of wine before he set it back down on the table and turned to look at her. Her father had always been honest with her, but in that moment, Bonnie had the distinct feeling that he may be about to deceive her for the first time.
“They were no one,” he smiled warmly. “Travelers,” he continued as he patted her on the head. “They were looking for a bed for the night, stupid fools, they almost had their heads cut clean off.”
He laughed and her mother laughed nervously too. She searched her father’s face for signs of deceit, and although she was sure something had flickered across his eyes that was dark and brooding, she couldn’t pin down anything specific. Bonnie smiled and nodded, she got back to her feet and looked out across the hall. She could tell that people were watching her, and she instantly felt uncomfortable. For the first time in her life, she just hoped it was because they were taken aback at how long and red her hair was, and not anything else.
Even though it wasn’t uncommon for the women of the Highlands to have such striking red hair, Bonnie’s was different. It was almost luminous and shone brightly when caught by the light. She had seen many people be sucked into a trance as they watched her move and the red strands shone gold and crimson.
“Father?” she whispered as she bent back down and moved her lips close to his ear. “Are you sure they were just travelers?”
He faltered for a moment, aware of how intently everyone in the castle was now watching Bonnie, as if she was some kind of rare jewel. She felt her pulse begin to quicken and she could sense the tension in her mother’s shoulders.
“Yes child,” he father soothed, “they were travelers.”
He smiled at her and nodded his head toward the door. Bonnie kissed him and her mother on the cheek and then made her way back through the crowd. She kept her face aimed firmly at the ground and she didn’t once look up, for fear of catching someone’s eye.
As she walked back through the doorway to the main hall, she felt a rush of relief wash over her.
Why had her presence caused such attention?
She leaned against the cold stone wall and sighed. Her nerves felt worn and she was sure that her father was lying to her, even though she didn’t want to believe that it was so.
She looked up and down the hallway and was aware of the influx of guards and soldiers, all loitering around as if they were waiting to spring into action, and she felt a tremor of fear run down her spine.
They hadn’t been travelers at all. Her father was lying. Someone or something was threatening the castle.
She looked toward the window and at the beautiful night sky that shone above her. What she wouldn’t give to be out there basking in the moonlight and enjoying the quiet solace of the heavens. But now, with the tension and fear running through the walls of Castle Grant, she knew it would be more than foolish of her to leave.
She turned on her heel and began to make her way back to the main staircase and wasn’t surprised when two guards began to follow her closely.
“Lord Grant asked us to escort you, m’lady,” one of them said and she nodded in acceptance.
She had no idea what was happening, but she knew that whatever was coming, was clearly a cause for concern.
3.
They had come over the hil
ls and mountains under a cloak of darkness, and the peasant boys who guarded the fields and alerted the soldiers had seen them coming. One of them had ran from his vantage point, with bare feet, cut and bleeding from the rough ground, his chest heaving with exertion so that he could get there in time.
“An army,” he gasped. “It’s coming this way.”
The soldiers had instantly stood guard and drew their weapons, they had charged the fields, out past the loch and down into the valley. But when they had arrived, all they saw was the trail of around twenty horses and the tartan of a clan they knew all too well.
Clan Drummond.
Not foes, but not friends either. Their history with Clan Grant had always been warped and tested in tumultuous times.
The soldiers could see the grave expressions on Lord Drummond’s face as he halted his horse and raised his hands in peace.
“I need to speak with James Grant,” he said proudly. “It is a matter of great urgency.”
Two soldiers returned immediately to the castle, slapping the peasant boy on the back of the head as they went for causing such an alarm by calling the Drummonds an army. When the soldiers had found Lord James Grant, he had listened to what they had to say and agreed to speak with Lord Drummond… After all, if he stated it was a matter of urgency and had come all that way in the dark and cold, surely he should give them a chance.
He had met him down by the drawbridge. His armor fiercely bound to him, that last tiny bit of doubt rising up in him that it could all be a rouse.
“Lord Drummond,” he said as he stood with his legs wide and his arms crossed. Behind him, James Grant had an army of men waiting to strike, but the second he saw the look on Drummond’s face, he knew he wouldn’t be needing them.
“Grant,” Drummond said wearily. “We are in trouble.”
Lord Grant studied him for a moment, unsure of whether to wait for him to continue or whether he should interject and ask what was happening over at their castle.
“All of us,” Lord Drummond said as his eyes fixed sternly on Grant’s.
“What do you mean?” he asked with suspicion.
He could see that Drummond was sweating, that his men looked worn out and pale. Something terrible had clearly happened to these men, their faces were drawn, as if they had all spent the evening being haunted by some vicious ghosts.
“You’ve heard the legends?” Drummond said as he swallowed.
And, in that moment, Lord James Grant’s stomach dropped to the floor; he too felt himself breaking out in a cold sweat.
The legend… it couldn’t be…
“They have taken Castle Cawdor,” Drummond said. “And from what we have managed to gather, they are heading this way…”
Lord Grant’s blood ran cold.
It had been a long time since the Legend of the Highlands had been spoken about… He had almost drawn the conclusion that it must have been myth… But now… What if…?
“We need to band together,” Drummond said. “Or we will all be damned.”
Lord Grant nodded and tried to think fast.
“They want our women,” Drummond said with a snarl. “They want our land and our men for their army. They want to destroy our clans and take over the Highlands. Now is the time that we fight, and we MUST win.”
Lord Grant knew that he was right, but the idea of breaking bread with the Drummond’s was not something he had been expecting to be doing when he had woken up that morning.
“Aye,” he nodded. “We shall talk.”
Lord Drummond nodded in return and climbed back up on his steed. As they galloped off into the night, Lord Grant was aware that everything he had ever known was about to change, and even though in a perfect world, he would be able to fight, in reality, he knew that if what he had heard was true, he would be powerless to stop it.
The legend said a clan so powerful would one day rise and the rest would fall. The idea made him shudder with terror and go weak at the knees.
He thought of his wife, of his daughters and of how his sons would be enslaved and treated like peasants.
He thought of what would happen to them all when he wouldn’t be there to protect them, should the castle be stormed and he be killed.
No! He would not let it happen.
Lord James Grant was a powerful man and he would ensure that his family survived. No matter what the cost, he was going to protect Castle Grant and everyone in it.
As he marched back to the main hall, he had a new sense of purpose, but that didn’t stop his nerves from mounting.
They would want his daughter Bonnie, he was sure of that for certain. With a rare beauty such as hers, he was going to have to do all he could to protect her.
The fight was only just beginning, but he wouldn’t stop until it was dead and buried.
4.
As dawn broke, Bonnie lay with weary eyelids and pulled the soft, warm blankets around her shoulders. She hadn’t slept all night, and she was more than tired. Her chambermaid had not returned to her and she had spent most of the early hours climbing out of bed and building up the fire. She had heard the sound of chatter from the hallway and knew that it was the soldiers guarding her room. She had crept silently, with bare, cold feet, and pushed her ear against the door, desperate to hear what they were speaking of, but only hissed whispers worked their way back to her.
She couldn’t make anything out for certain, and she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions and only hear half of a story, so she loped back to bed and dozed as the fire raged in the hearth.
When she had heard the first bird singing that morning, she had opened her eyes and looked up and out of the window. The gray light that filtered through seemed dense and she knew that it was going to be a foggy morning. She just hoped that it wasn’t an omen of things to come there at Castle Grant.
She had seen the look on her mother’s and father’s faces and she knew that something was afoot. She would just have to wait until someone gave her an explanation.
Her body was weak and tired, and even though all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep, she knew she had to get up, get herself ready and down to the main hall. Her insides were bare and hunger raged through her. She sat up and rubbed her weary eyes and stretched her arms up high over her head. The embers from the fire were still smoldering, but the room itself was as cold as ice.
She got to her feet and crept slowly across the stone floor to the hearth. She rubbed her hands together and tried to warm herself through as she shivered, and wished that someone was there to help her relight the thing and get some heat in there.
Suddenly, as if her prayers had been answered, there was a delicate knock at the door.
“Come in,” she called as she rushed behind the edge of her bed, just in case, by some strange chance, it was a man on the other side of the door. She was only half dressed and she had to protect her modesty, but luckily for her, it was Ariane, her chambermaid, who stood sheepishly in the doorway.
“Oh thank goodness!” Bonnie smiled from ear to ear as Ariane rushed inside and closed the door hurriedly behind her. “The fire is almost out and I could do with a hand!”
Ariane smiled back at her and scurried into the room.
“I am so sorry, m’lady,” she said, “but I was so terribly ill last night, I needed to rest.”
“Don’t apologize,” Bonnie laughed. “I enjoyed the night to myself… However, it was rather sleepless and interrupted. Please, do tell me how you’re feeling now?”
Ariane smiled and nodded. “I feel much better, Lady Grant,” she said. “The rest has done me a world of good.”
“I’m glad,” Bonnie said genuinely. “I was worried about you.”
“Och, no need to worry about me,” she said as she brushed her long brown hair over her shoulder. “Right, come on then, let’s get this fire back roaring, its icy cold in here!”
Ariane knelt down in front of the hearth and began to stoke up the embers with a long iron rod. The pans of wate
r were almost empty and even though Bonnie was exhausted, and wanted to rest, she also wanted to try and see if Ariane had any information from her stay down in the servants’ quarters.
She hurried forward and bent down to scoop up some of the water pans and Ariane quickly turned to her and said, “No m’lady, don’t, I will fill these…”
“It’s okay,” Bonnie said cheerily. “I quite enjoyed doing some of these tasks myself last night, plus you’re not fully recovered. I don’t want you getting sick again on me.”
Ariane looked uncomfortable and shifted on the spot, but reluctantly let Bonnie continue as she bent back down and carried on building up the fire and stoking it until the new logs caught and the flames began to lick quickly around them.
“So Ariane,” Bonnie said as she returned from the adjoining bathroom with a pale of water and set it down beside the hearth. “When you were down there last night, I was wondering…” she trailed off to gauge her reaction and instantly noticed Ariane’s shoulders tense.
“I mean, I do hope you don’t mind me asking, but…” Bonnie continued, “were there any whispers or talks of why Clan Drummond arrived here late last night?”
Ariane breathed in deeply and turned to face Bonnie. Her face was pale and her mouth was tight, as if she was physically trying to stop herself from replying.
“Ariane?” she asked nervously, “Please… do tell me if there is something I should know…”
Ariane bowed her head and sighed. She looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and it was too much for her to bear. Bonnie wanted to comfort her, to ask what on earth could possibly be happening to instill such reactions in everyone around her, but now she was becoming so frightened, she had the feeling it was to be her that would be needing the comfort of others.
SCAR (LOST CREEK SHIFTERS NOVELLAS Book 2) Page 114