Highland Daydreams

by April Holthaus

  As soon as she had finished washing her hair, Lara donned the dress Rowena had left on the bed. It hung awkwardly off her shoulders; several sizes too large. Finding a ball of twine on the floor, Lara began to unravel it and wrapped it around her thin waist. Biting off one end at the perfect length, she tied the dress in place. She sat down next to the fire and used the towel to dry her hair. She was quick about it, anxious to leave.

  Stepping back into the room, Rowena smiled.

  “Oh, ye look verra fine lass, now that yer washed. The dress is a wee bit big but I am no’ longer a young lass.”

  “It will do just fine. Thank ye,” Lara replied, feeling renewed and refreshed.

  “I best get a start on the day. When ye are done, come join me in the kitchen.”

  Lara nodded her head. She was grateful for Rowena’s kindness, but would rather be on her way. But to where? She feared that if she returned home her father would send her back to her husband. If that happened, she was certain that Dermot would kill her, for he had no use for his defiant bride.

  Lara knew that during the negotiations to unite their clans, Dermot had been furious that his father made the decision to unite the clans. After years of feuds, Dermot’s hatred for the Fergussons was well known, and he protested the marriage. He was in love with another and insisted that he would deny his birthright as future Laird of Castle Foley if necessary to avoid marriage to Lara. But after he learned of the Fergusson clan’s supposed “secret treasure”, he became eager to marry Lara; too eager for her liking. His sudden change of heart disturbed her, but he had been a very persuasive suitor.

  She still felt fury deep in the pit of her stomach for allowing Dermot to seduce her with words of passion and promises. He had given her hope for the future of her clan, and promised a good marriage. It was not until after their vows were spoken and before they even shared the marital bed, that he unmasked his true nature and motives.

  He told her he had learned of a treasure, supposedly acquired by her father, and hoped to claim this treasure once they were married. Lara had never believed such treasure truly existed for no one had ever laid eyes upon it and only few knew of it. She recalled a moment when she was young, eavesdropping on her father, she’d heard about how he came to acquire it, but the details now were fuzzy. All Lara remembered hearing was that the treasure was a gift from a Norse King.

  Lara did all she could to convince Dermot that it was merely a rumor and that no treasure existed. But her husband called her a liar and accused her of deceit. He began avoiding her, for which she was grateful. She despised him and fought him every time he tried to touch her. She would rather die a thousand deaths or be beaten beyond recognition before succumbing to him. He may have been her husband, but she refused to give him her maidenhood willingly.

  Lara’s mind wandered to a time when things were pleasant. When her mother, Elsa, was alive and her father was not the bitter man he became after Elsa’s death. Since the day her mother passed, her father had seemed to care little for Lara’s happiness and focused solely on her brother John. He’d pushed John into training longer and studying harder, obsessed with preparing John to one day be Laird of their clan. But grief alone did not explain her father’s sudden change in behavior.

  Lara shook her head, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. She needed to think towards the future and how to expose Dermot for the treacherous man he was.

  Lara stared into the flames. Her thoughts returned to the past day, then to Bram. She was anxious to see how he fared this day. Mayhap it was his kindness for helping her find shelter for the night, or perhaps it was because they shared an unspeakable bond as prisoners of war, but her thoughts lingered on him. She would at least thank him for his generosity.

  Chapter 6

  Once they had secured the last plank, Bram followed Innes down the ladder and headed towards the barn door to feed the horses. Grabbing onto an armful of hay, Bram carried it to the stalls. While the horses ate, he brushed their manes. The smaller of the two reminded him of a spirited young filly who was sired by his own horse. She was a beauty; light grey with white stockings. The mare restlessly kicked the back of her stall refusing to eat the fresh hay.

  “Awe, dinna mind that one. She willnae eat while yer watching her. Free spirit that one is. Makes her untrainable and useless. I thought about selling her but I’d make better use of her using her hide as a covering to keep my arse warm,” Innes joked.

  Bram looked back to the fiery mare and smirked.

  “I think ye have worked enough and are deserving of a fine meal,” Innes exclaimed.

  “Thank ye. I will join ye and yer gracious wife in a moment. I have still not yet finished wit the horses.”

  “Verra well,” Innes said and walked back toward the house.

  As Bram approached the black steed he had stolen, he was taken aback by what he discovered. Alongside the saddle bags were a broadsword and a pouch full of coin. Bram guessed that the men they had stolen the horse from were either wealthy travelers or a band of raiders who’d just filled their coffers. Either way, luck had been with him this day and the stars could not have aligned more perfectly. The cloak of ensuing darkness concealed the bags and Bram did not think to look about him as they were in dire need to escape quickly.

  Strapping the small pouch to his belt, he headed towards the croft. His goal was to gather Lara and travel north to Dumfries. There, he could gather supplies for their journey to Lara’s home and seek safe passage through the lowlands.

  Lara quietly began slicing a loaf of bread while she listened to Rowena and Innes talking at the table. Mundane kitchen tasks were not something Lara was used to doing. At Stearns Castle, Lara was taught to weave and sew but nothing more. She never learned to read or write as it was against the church’s teachings and forbidden by her father. It was her brother, John, who had taught her basic things such as how to use a dirk and wield a sword, even though Lara’s thin arms could barely hold the weight of a sword over her head. But even her brother had been amazed by her way with a dagger.

  John had been her only friend until he reached the age of ten and four and their father forced him to begin pursing his studies and training. She believed that his responsibilities to the clan became a heavy burden on him though he never shared his feelings towards it.

  Lara’s ears perked up when Innes mentioned Bram. She knew not why her heart quickened at the sound of his name or why she felt anxious to see him. But her curiosity got the better of her, causing her to lean towards them to get a better listen.

  “The lad be doing a fine job this morning but something tells me that he is no’ a farmhand,” Innes said to his wife.

  “Why do ye say that?” Rowena asked.

  “Well, have ye seen the size of him? Built like a warhorse that one is,” he replied.

  “He said his name was MacKinnon. Have ye heard of them before?”

  “Aye. I have heard of the MacKinnons from the north. But the lad is far from home if he be a MacKinnon. Reckless bunch, ‘em Highlanders. They fight the English at every turn. And they dinna pay taxes like we have to. They fight fer their freedom while we cower behind it.”

  Innes’s voice trailed off as he turned his head and looked out the window.

  “Oh, Innes! We abide by the English rule and for that they spare us our lives and our land. That does no’ mean that we have less pride than the Highlanders do, nor does it mean we are cowards. Ye are a good man and I will no’ be hearing ye say any different,” Rowena said in a frustrated tone. It seemed they’d had this conversation many times over.

  Innes smiled back at Rowena in a loving gaze and placed his slightly wrinkled hand on her cheek. Lara could see the love the two of them shared. It was the kind of love she had hoped for in her own marriage, but instead she had married the Devil.

  Lara heard the sound of gravel scuffling under heavy footsteps coming from outside the window and she headed towards the door. After
a few taps on the door, Rowena stood and opened it. Filling the doorway stood a tall and roguish looking man. He wore a dull tan colored tunic slightly damp with sweat around the neckline. A faded red and green kilt hung over one shoulder and wrapped around his waist, held up by a brown leather belt. Lara could not draw her eyes from him. There was an overwhelming sense of familiarity about him. It took her several moments to realize that the man she was staring at was Bram. However, gone was the long mass of hair that had covered his face just yesterday. He was now clean shaven and his hair was much shorter, barely touching his shoulders.

  Bram looked nothing like what she had imagined him to be. She had assumed he was older by the number of battle wounds on his body. Last eve he had not looked nearly as handsome as now. Lara was quite taken by him. There was something compelling yet daunting about him. He stood well over six feet tall and was more than twice her weight. Had she not observed his docile demeanor last night, she would have certainly been frightened of him. She smiled at the sight of him.

  Bram’s stomach rumbled with hunger when he smelled the scent of warm, freshly baked bread, as he walked closer to the croft. He would only stay for the meal and no longer. He had wasted enough time as it was. It was still too dangerous to be this close to the English border and he had no doubt that after the guards he had bested were discovered the English would send out a search party to find them.

  He tapped on the door a few times but halted as the door flung open. Rowena greeted him with a wide smile and held her hand out to offer him entrance. The door frame hung so low that Bram had to slightly duck his head to enter. The room he entered was so small that it felt overcrowded. It was cluttered with tables and chairs, furs and fabrics, buckets and barrels. He wondered how anyone could move about in such chaos. He sat down on one of the chairs, fearful that his size would break it. Innes slid a mug of ale to him from across the table.

  “It will take God Almighty himself to tear down that roof after all the hard work ye done to repair it,” Innes said.

  “Perhaps we should hire ye to be our farmhand permanently. Then maybe more of the work would get done around here. Dinna ken how many times I have asked Innes to fix that darn fence,” Rowena jested.

  “Now listen here, woman. I have told ye before. If ye wanted it done badly enough, ye could have done it. Then at least it would have been the way ye wanted it and I would no’ be hearing any of yer complaining,” Innes said as he playfully slammed Rowena’s backside.

  “Innes McDonald, ye have no’ seen me complain yet,” Rowena sarcastically replied and swatted his hand away.

  “I love it when ye get angry,” Innes said as his smile widened.

  Both Innes and Rowena burst into laughter. Bram smirked at their playfulness. The way they acted reminded him of how his mother Kenna and father Duncan used to be before his father died. Since his death, he could not recall the last time his mother had a good hearty laugh. Lady Kenna gave up her duties as Lady of the castle. After giving up her primary responsibilities she took on the role of a healer and helped deliver bairns.

  Rowena took a pitcher and refilled both Innes and Bram’s mug before walking towards the corner of the room where she began filling a trencher with bread and a few slices of cheese. Bram wrapped his large hand around the handle and chugged its contents until he had finished it. From the corner of his eye, he felt the sensation of being watched.

  Bram took in a quick breath and held it as he looked over his shoulder. In the corner of the room stood a beautiful lass cutting a loaf of bread into small slices. It was Lara. Her hair was done up in braids, her pale face was rosy, and her lips were pink. She was a vision. Slowly, she came from behind the table with the trencher of bread in her hands.

  “Good day,” she said with a soft smile on her face.

  When his eyes lit up, he could swear that her cheeks turned a brighter shade of red. As she moved closer, Bram watched every move, every curve. The sway of her hips was enticing even though the dress she wore did not flatter her slim figure. It was dull and shapeless and had a cord of twine tied around her thin waist. As she came closer, Bram could see every feature of her face. From her small pointed nose to her sterling grey eyes. She was a natural beauty. He wanted to hit himself over the head for not noticing earlier how bonnie the lass was. She leaned in and placed the tray onto the table between him and Innes.

  Nodding his head to her, he uttered, “Good afternoon. If I may say so, ye look like a lady!”

  Her eyes widened by his failed attempt at a compliment. Giving her a sideways smile, he felt like a complete idiot.

  “Was I no’ a lady before I bathed?” she replied raising an eyebrow.

  Innes snickered. Bram could hear the sarcasm in her tone. Her words pricked him like the tip of a dirk. If he had insulted her, it was of his own doing; never had the beauty of a woman riled him so. He fumbled his words and could not think clearly enough to reconcile his attempt at a compliment. . He had only been thinking with his cock.

  “Of course ye are a lady. That’s no’ what I meant. I meant to compliment ye. Ye are a…,” Bram searched for the right words to say, “comely lass.”

  Lara brushed her hands down the front of her skirt her expression indicated she was about to reply when Tavish entered the croft.

  “Mum, Da, I think the wolf is back. I am goin’ to set up a trap and get him this time!” he said as he held up a fist full of feathers.

  “Brave lad,” Rowena said and held him in a motherly embrace. “Ach, laddie, ye are getting so big. Before I ken it, I will nay be able to wrap my arms around ye.”

  Tavish smiled. He regaled them with the story of his adventures and coming upon the feathers, trying hard not to leave out any detail.

  “One day, I will be a big and strong warrior like Bram,” he said pointing in Bram’s direction.

  “A warrior, ye say?” Rowena repeated.

  “Aye, he told me.”

  Bram could feel the eyes of everyone in the room upon him. But it was their silence that made him uncomfortable. Thankfully, Tavish had quickly redirected their attention once more.

  “The wench is awake!” Tavish exclaimed, pointing at Lara.

  “Tavish!” Rowena barked and scowled deeply at him, horrified by what her son had just said.

  “But da said…” Tavish tried to explain.

  Lara’s face turned crimson with embarrassment. Did these people think she was a whore - or worse, his whore, she thought, as she looked at Bram in utter dismay.

  “Never mind what yer da said,” Rowena growled giving both him and Innes a cautioning look.

  “Da, are we still going to the market at Dumfries? Ye promised to take me wit’ ye today,” Tavish asked before his mother scalped him.

  “I would, laddie, but there is much to be done ‘round here. I will take ye next time.”

  “Is Dumfries a great distance from here?” Bram asked.

  “Nay. Only a few hours north and west from here,” Innes replied.

  “Thank ye again fer the food and fer allowing us to stay, but I am afraid we must be off. Lara, would you care to join me outside?”

  Lara nodded and followed him out the door.

  “My lady, we will be traveling to Dumfries. It should be on the way to yer home. I am friends with the Laird of Montrose just west of town. He can offer us supplies and safe passage through the Lowlands against the Campbells. My clan is nay an ally wit’ the Campbells and if we were to travel around their land it would take several days.”

  “Must we stop? I am friends with the Campbells. Surely they would no’ attack if I am wit’ ye.”

  “Aye, that may be true lass, but that dinna mean that they will nay try to kill me. I made a promise that ye will arrive safe at Stearns Castle, so I must do what is necessary. I can no’ promise ye that the journey will be wi’out danger. These southern hills are steep and dangerous to travel, and I dinna take too kindly to the southern clans. Many of ‘em are in support of the English.”


  “I can hold my own. I am no’ afraid,” she said.

  Lara wondered if going to Dumfries, or Montrose for that matter, was a good idea. She needed to get home as soon as she could to explain to her father what had happened. This detour would only delay her and she could not afford to waste another day for fear that Dermot would find she had escaped. But she knew that Bram was right. If they were to make this journey, and if he were to continue on to the Highlands, he would need supplies.

  “Best ye say yer goodbyes.”

  Lara could hear the severity in his tone and did not wish to make him wait any longer. Nodding her head, she turned to say her goodbye to Rowena thanking her for her hospitality and apologizing for her abruptness in leaving.

  “Will I ever see ye again?” Tavish asked Bram.

  “I dinna ken Tavish, but I hope to see ye again someday. I may have use of a strong warrior,” he smiled fondly at him.

  Lara followed Bram to the stables. Using a stool, she mounted the horse and waited for Bram to do the same.

  Chapter 7

  With lightning speed they raced over the hills, passing vast fields and meadows, until they entered a dense forest and were forced to slow their pace. The sunlight shone through the branches of the canopy, and a pungent, earthy smell of morning dew hung in the air.

  “My lady, we will take a short rest up ahead.”

  Bram slowed the horse, stopping along a shaded glade.

  “I will need a moment of privacy as well,” she told him.

  “Aye, but dinna be too long. I am no’ certain whose land this may be, and whether they are friend or foe.”

  Bram helped Lara dismount. She followed the sound of trickling water that led to a nearby creek. The water seeped down a winding path and emptied into a small pond. The foliage was thick and lush. Lara welcomed the shade that offered her protection against the scorching sun. Leaning towards the water, she dipped her hands in the stream to cool her face.