Cherime MacFarlane - The MacGrough Clan 01

by Highland Light

  Highland Light

  By Cherime MacFarlane

  Copyright 2013

  Copyright Notice:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  Author's Note: I have taken as few liberties as possible with dates and the developments of the period. Many momentous things were taking place in that period of history. Yes, the clan MacFarlane did hold the lands around Arrachor and if you chance to drive from Glasgow to Arrachor stop at the rest stop and read the information about the MacFarlanes.

  Smashwords Edition, license notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Design: Nicole Garcia

  Dedicated to:

  Harmony

  Chapter 1

  She was not pretty. Angular and hard, her legs were firm and strong from working with the sheep and cattle. Arms muscular from practice with her bow, Ailene stood on the abbey grounds holding a basket of yarn. Watching the men make their way from the coast up the path to the abbey, her attention was caught by the youngest one. His skin was the color of dark honey. The thick dark hair was cut so it barely covered his ears. The ever present breeze lifted the black strands that were drifting into his eyes. He lifted a hand to brush the hair from his eyes, eyes that were black and watchful. His gaze saw everything. Wind burned and curiously unlined, his youth was clear on his features. He was very young.

  So intent on watching the strangers was she that she did not realize the basket of freshly dyed wool she was carrying had slipped in her hands. Some of the skeins began to fall and she was forced to move forward to try to keep them in the basket. As she stumbled his hand reached for her grasping her by the shoulder.

  The strength of the hand, which caught her, caused her to gasp. As he helped her right herself then settle her basket at a reasonable angle designed to keep the wool where it belonged, she realized she wanted him. It was almost a physical pain somewhere in the region of her womb.

  She mumbled words of appreciation for his help then quickly turned away. The urge to touch her body where the ache had begun was strong. She held the basket more tightly to her body as she moved away from the crowd of men grouped here and there along the trail.

  Closing her eyes the girl relived the brief moment of contact. It took only a moment for her to realize he had been affected by their contact. He had not felt it. His dark eyes had been on her but had not seen her. He had only reacted as a warrior would to something happening within his ken.

  The realization allowed her to make small adjustments to her skirt with fingers that trembled only slightly. She had grown adept at hiding her feelings. Ailene walked away from him toward the weaver's cottage with her normal briskness. But, everything had changed. She had never wanted a man before. There had been a few who had appeared to appreciate her, a woman who was more male than female. Raised by men, her whole outlook was practical and a bit hard. She wanted him and by God, she would have him, somehow.

  Ailene's father was firmly in Robert the Bruce's camp. Tired of fearing for the existence of his clan, he had come to the meeting with high hopes of finally being able to rid Scotland of the usurper's domination. There were few women who were aware of the importance of this gathering. Only men with eligible daughters and kinswomen had been invited. The men from the ship had traveled a great distance looking for sanctuary from the hounding of Phillip the Fair of France.

  Her father had brought her to the meeting after fully informing her of its purpose. She knew the importance of the cargo which had come to Scotland in the ship. Ailene was aware that the men were Knights Templar. She knew they had barely escaped from Phillip with the treasure in the hold of the ship and their lives. They had no where else to seek sanctuary. The Pope in Rome had already excommunicated the Bruce so there was no reason for him to betray the men. Further, each man was a seasoned warrior. All of them but the young one had been married and probably widowed. After turning their estates over to their heirs, they were allowed to join the Templars. Most who became Templars brought a large donation to the order.

  The exiles were to choose brides from the eligible women brought to this meeting. They would then become Scotsmen, by marriage and adoption. Each would swear to support The Bruce. A percentage of the treasure in the hold of the ship would go to The Bruce. Each knight would keep a portion of the treasure as a sort of dowry. It was a reasonable agreement giving each party something of value.

  Ailene and her father had come here as a last resort. None of the young men who had approached her father with marriage on their minds pleased her. She had not felt anything for any of them. It was the reason she found herself almost unable to think after the chance meeting with the young one. Her reaction had been unexpected. Never having experienced it before, she was at a loss. She could not begin to analyze her reaction to one touch. That he was unaware of his effect on her was a Godsend. That he could have that kind of power over her was frightening.

  She straightened her spine as she forced herself to continue with the errand to the weaver's cottage. Running the errand for one of the other women had allowed her to watch the men arrive at the ravaged abbey.

  Other women would think it unseemly to hurry too much or to blatantly survey the offering. Some lasses might have sauntered across the green, hoping to been seen. Ailene did not bother with such foolishness. She crossed the green with ground eating strides. She had seen what she was looking for. Unlike the other women hiding in the shadows surreptitiously peaking at the arriving men, Ailene had wanted a proper look.

  Cadell, her father, was glad she was being cooperative. They would need a good man to take over the leadership of their people. Ailene was capable, but being a female, it was doubtful anyone would allow her to do what she had been doing for some years now. Ailene ran the clan unbeknownst to all but a very few. A blow on the head in a fight several years ago had hurt Cadell MacGrough in ways not immediately apparent. There were times when although he looked hale and healthy, he was not able to function. His mind became foggy and dizziness claimed him.

  MacGrough was looking for a protector for Ailene. One who would understand she was not a woman who was going to be stuck inside tending to bairns and housework without voicing any opinions of her own. She was a drover, a planner and as the Celtic women of old, Ailene was a warrior. Having no son, Cadell had trained her as a son. Ailene was proficient with a sword and dirk. But her true gift was archery. Scotland did not have a dearth of archers. Most men preferred swords and dirks; Ailene could take the eye from a roe deer at a distance, which amazed even him.

  These men, these Templars, would honor her. An older man would see the value in a woman like Ailene. Cadell loved her beyond anything else in his ken. He wanted her happy when he finally joined her mother in the grave. Both he and Ailene knew what they were here for. Cadell also had a contract. Any man who would marry his daughter must sign the document or there would be no marriage. The Bruce was the only other person who was aware of Cadell's wishes and stipulations. MacGrough had the king's blessing on the contract as well as his word to enforced it if Ailene needed to appeal to the king for
help.

  Nearly as tall as her father, Ailene strode into the quarters the MacGrough clan had been assigned.

  "Well fayther I know the one I want."

  'Direct and too the point, no shilly shalling for his lass'. "And which might that be luv?"

  "Here!'

  She took his hand then led her father over to the window. The men had gathered in a tight knot on the green near the building.

  "That one! The black haired one."

  "He is the one you want? I thought you did not care for lads?"

  With some consternation, Cadell viewed the young man who stood to one side.

  "And what if he is not part of the men who are to be a party to this gathering?"

  "I care not!"

  Her chin lifted in the gesture her father knew well. Ailene would not give one inch. She would have that one or none. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her to his side in a hug.

  "Ah lass! Whatever am I to do with ye? Pour us some uisge beatha. You are driving your old fayther to drink."

  "Well it's not a particularly long road tis it?"

  She had humor and much as he hated to admit it, her humor was a bit on the bawdy side. His fault he knew for raising her as he had. He missed his Grier, his lovely woman, and her mother, beyond measure. Ailene had not had her presence to tone down her temper or provide a feminine example. Ailene was too much like him. Further, he had indulged her far too much. There was no one who was going to crack the whip over her and change her now. At twenty, she was a woman grown.

  She poured two drams of the whiskey, then drew up a third chair for them both to put their feet on. It was time to map out strategy for the meeting which was to take place at the evening meal.

  "I am of the mind that the older warriors will be chosen first."

  Cadell sipped the whiskey.

  "Aye. It seems reasonable. An untried youth is not likely to be snapped up."

  She slid down a bit in the chair as she sipped at the golden liquid.

  "Unless some other lass is interested in the lad."

  He decided to tease her a bit.

  Understanding him quite well, Ailene only laughed.

  "Aye he is pretty enough. Would no surprise me if all ta lasses drool on him a wee mite."

  She refused to be baited. Cadell tossed back the last of the whiskey.

  "Then we shall wait until all have been offered for. If the lad is still available then we shall...."

  "Corner him and proceed from there."

  Ailene finished his thought for him.

  "And will you be dressing up for this gathering?"

  Ailene gave him a long hard stare.

  "Are you daft fayther? Why would I be putting on airs?"

  Cadell MacGrough looked at his long lean daughter with a sigh.

  "Why indeed lass? What might I have been thinking?"

  The hall was full. The new comers were stationed along one side of the long table which had been set up in the hall where The Bruce held court. Through the meal the newcomers were watched carefully by the Scotsmen in attendance.

  Cadell looked around the hall, making a quick head count. With the lad added, there were eighteen. Several women watched from corners. Likely wondering which of these men they would be marrying the following morning. His lass knew which one was her choice. Having given it great consideration, for their purposes the young one was the best. Surely the lad was no older than Ailene, perhaps a bit younger. Some of his opinions and ideals would certainly be already graven tightly into his mind. But, he was likely trainable. As he was younger he probably would out live him. Ailene would not be left to fend for herself when he was gone.

  MacGrough looked around for the leader of the knights. On seeing him, Cadell purposefully accosted the man. They spoke in English, as the Templars knew no Gaelic.

  "Sir, I hae a question or two regarding yon lad."

  MacGough inclined his head in the direction of the lad. The younger man had slipped away from the table to stand in the shadows against the wall.

  "I will do my best to answer them."

  Replied the older knight.

  "So how did the lad come to be in yer order?"

  "He is the son of a fellow I knew. A good man who left the order for love of a Jewess. They were both murdered; we never knew who was to blame. I took him in. He is a good boy, a trained warrior although young"

  The older man sighed.

  "I will miss him."

  Cadell glanced over to where the young man stood leaning against the wall in the shadows.

  "My lass is near the same age. I look for a son, ye ken? We are but a small clan so I need a young lad for my lass and for my people. One who will be able to guide and protect both."

  The old knight nodded.

  "Then you would be well served with Gideon. He needs a place. Once he has it, Gideon will hold."

  "Thank ye. Tis the information I needed."

  Cadell walked back to where Ailene waited. He knew she would want to hear the answers to the questions he had asked.

  She was alone, not wishing to join the giggling groups of women talking nonsense. Silly talk she had caught bits and pieces of. She knew she wanted the lad. She would accept no other warrior from those gathered in the hall. Also, she needed to know this was the right move for her people. If not, they would take their search elsewhere.

  There was a slight smile on her father's face, which told her the answers to his query had pleased him. 'Good!' They were half way to victory. Now, was anyone else interested in the lad?

  Gideon had slipped into the deepest shadow he could find. This whole matter smacked of a slave market. He did not like the feeling of being on the block. Mayhap at any moment they would all be asked to remove their shirts so their muscles could be viewed. He was leaning against the back wall of the partially destroyed building with one foot braced against the wall.

  He had not bothered to put on fancy attire for the occasion. Gideon's dark eyes roamed the hall. Reluctantly he had agreed to this show and to the bargain driven by the man fighting to gain this kingdom. All must agree to the bargain or it would not take place. Robert the Bruce wanted no hint of what was taking place here to reach the ears of either the English king or the Pope. Gideon had given his word on his honor. As a man of honor, a Knight Templar, he would marry whichever woman was finally decided upon.

  Marriage in its self was fraught with pitfalls for him, as Gideon had never been with a woman. In the language of the Book, he had never known a woman. There had been a few times he had dreamed of the act. Several times more than he wished to think on he had been forced to take action to relieve a pressing need he did not fully understand. He had gone to his mentor to ask to be given penances for the action, as he understood it to be unholy. He had been reassured he was only a normal youth.

  He understood procreation in animals. Having witnessed mares being put to stud, he intellectually grasped what was to be done. It was the actual doing which concerned him. Gideon doubted a female would appreciate being approached as if she were a mare in heat.

  It felt as if hours had passed before each of the other men had reached an agreement with one of the clansmen. The women were then presented to each man. Gideon wished he could leave the hall or disappear into the stones behind him. Ill at ease, he shifted his weight as he lowered his foot. One of the last clansmen present stood. The woman sitting next to him came to her feet as well. They both looked in his direction. Gideon had felt their intense observation. He feared his time had now come. Shutting his eyes for a moment, Gideon said a short prayer then watched the pair make their way toward him.

  The man was of middle years, perhaps a half a head taller than he. The woman, partially hidden in a gray wool cloak was nearly as tall as the man she was walking with. Gideon watched her move. She did not mince along. Her stride was easy and confident. The light was not good where he and the couple coming toward him had taken their stand. He could not see her well.

 
The man with her was more easily observed. His hair was red with gray here and there. The man wore it quite long. Braids swung on either side of his head. Trim and well muscled the man also moved with the same easy grace. The two of them walked in step. Both of them were comfortable with each other.

  The man stood back a bit from Gideon, allowing a bit of space.

  "Yer name tis Gideon I ken."

  Gideon nodded.

  "Well, lad it seems you are the last knight left here."

  Gideon was not sure the statement required an answer. He nodded again.

  "Ailene, my lass and I,"

  The man gestured to the woman next to him.

  "Have need of a husband for her, a son to look after our people. Are ye of a mind to agree to this?"

  Gideon eyed the both of them carefully.

  "I gave my word on my honor to serve, protect and defend the woman and all under her protection upon being wed on the morrow. I will do so. My word, once given, will not be broken.

  "I'm called the MacGrough. We are but a wee clan and my lass, Ailene and I have thought carefully on this matter. We are of a mind to take you, if ye will have us lad.

  Gideon smiled slightly.

  "As it appears there is none left other than I, I am at your service Sir."

  Cadell caught the humor in the statement he chuckled.

  "So it would seem lad."

  The woman had remained silent through the conversation. Gideon was aware that she was focused entirely on him. He knew his measure was being taken by the silent figure.

  "What might be your surname?"

  The MacGrough asked.

  "I am only Gideon. I have no other name. After tomorrow I shall be Gideon MacGrough."

  "Aye. That will do. Have ye a mount Gideon?"

  It was the first time the woman had addressed him. It was softly spoken. Her voice was well modulated. He liked the sound of it."

  "None, my lady."

  "Well then, we shall supply yer need. Our lands are a wee bit ta the north. After the marrying on the morrow we shall be off. Have ye an objection to being first done and gone?"