A Highlander Born From Chaos (Highlanders 0f Kirklinton Book 2)

by Kenna Kendrick

  “How long will it take ye to see to the horse?” Sweeney asked, and the blacksmith cocked his head to one side, appearing to think for a moment.

  “Ye can collect the horse tomorrow, or ye can wait and take it in a couple of hours,” he replied, and Sweeney shrugged his shoulders.

  “Then we shall return tomorrow, I suppose. I cannae hang around here for two hours, there is work to see to back at Kirklinton,” he replied.

  “I could stay,” Evie said, “ only a few hours, and I would like to see the blacksmith at work. I have always liked to think of my father workin’ here, but he hardly ever mentions his life before marryin’ my mother. Do let me stay, Sweeney. I promise I shall come straight back with the horse.”

  He looked at her for a moment, as though he did not entirely trust her, despite the reasonableness of her request. But then he sighed, shrugging his shoulders and nodding his head.

  “Aye, it would be good to have the horse back by nightfall. But ye are to promise that ye shall nae move from here until ye have the beast and that then ye shall bring him straight back to Kirklinton, ye hear me?” Sweeney said, and Evie nodded.

  “Aye, I hear ye, Sweeney. What trouble can I possibly cause sittin’ here by the forge and watchin’ the smithy at work?” she asked, and again he shrugged his shoulders and started on his way back up the track towards the castle, as Evie settled herself down by the forge.

  It was unclear whether the blacksmith welcomed her presence or not, but she watched as he skillfully saw to the horse’s hooves, bashing in the shoes and hammering them to fit.

  “Dae ye like this work?” Evie asked, and the blacksmith nodded.

  “I like it well enough, aye,” he replied, not looking up from his work.

  “My father never speaks of it, though this was his workshop and his parents, his adopted parents, kept it for many years,” she replied, looking around at the workshop which had surely changed very little from when her father was its owner.

  “Aye, the McGinn’s were good folks,” the old blacksmith replied, “I used to help them when yer father was very young. ‘Tis the reason he sold me the forge, he knew I would take care of it.”

  “And ye shod the hooves of Musgrave horses in return,” Evie said, and he rolled his eyes.

  “Ye are as bad as yer Godfather,” he said, and Evie blushed.

  “Nay, I would dae the same. Old rivalries mean nothin’ to me,” she said, as a boy appeared in the distance and hailed the blacksmith who looked up from his work and waved.

  “And it seems ye are about to meet a Musgrave now, or at least a servant of the Musgraves,” the blacksmith said, and Evie looked up in surprise as a fair-haired boy, no older than fifteen or sixteen came running up.

  “Is the horse ready, smithy? The master wants me to take it to the MacBrydes,” the boy said, ignoring Evie, who looked at him in surprise at the mention of the MacBrydes.

  “Aye lad, he is a spirited thing and make nay mistake, are ye sure ye can handle him on a ride across the heathers?” the blacksmith said, but the boy laughed.

  “I may be an English boy, smithy, but I know how to ride a horse,” he replied, noticing Evie for the first time.

  “Ye are ridin’ to the MacBryde castle?” she asked, and the boy nodded.

  “What business is it of yours?” he asked, making his way over to the chestnut foal, and patting its mane.

  “Will ye see the Laird there?” she asked.

  “The old Laird or his son? You mean Hamish, I suppose? I may do, the horse is for the mistress, Isabella. She wishes to ride out on the moorland there, and I am to bring him to the castle in readiness,” the boy replied, untethering the animal and making ready to depart.

  “I … dae ye … could ye take a message?” Evie said an impulse which she instantly regretted, yet desired at the same time.

  “A message? What sort of message? Who are you?” the boy said, and Evie blushed.

  “My name is Evie, Evie Elliott, I am a friend of Hamish MacBryde, and I would like ye to ask him to meet me. Tell him I shall be by the stream above the Armstrong castle tomorrow when the sun is at noon. If he can come to me there, I would be very grateful,” she said, realizing she was taking a terrible risk in trusting this stranger with such an important message.

  He nodded and smiled at her, the horse neighing impatiently at his side.

  “I thought the Elliotts and the Musgraves were bitter enemies? But it seems they have a traitor amongst them,” he said, “how much for my silence and for the message?”

  Evie looked at him in astonishment.

  “I … ‘Tis nay treachery, he is a friend of mine. A good and honest man, and I simply wish to see him. There is nay treachery here,” she replied, but the boy laughed.

  “The last woman who crossed the mistress disappeared, and I know for certain that if she discovered Hamish to be meeting a woman alone, she would be ever so displeased,” he replied, and Evie sighed, putting her hand into her tunic pocket and drawing out a silver coin.

  “Here,” she said, handing it to the boy, who nodded.

  “Two and we have an agreement,” he replied, and Evie sighed, taking out another coin and handing it to the boy who smiled and nodded.

  “I will deliver your message, Evie Elliott, but I make no guarantee that it will be well received.,” he said, and without a further word, he clicked on the horse, leading it along the track towards the moorland path and taking Evie’s hopes with him.

  She stood for a moment and watched until he disappeared around a corner and was gone. Could she trust him to deliver the message to Hamish, or might he simply betray her to Isabella and leave her standing alone by the stream the next day, a fool for her own emotions?

  “The horse is shod now, lass. Ye can take him and tell Sweeney to be more careful with the best in the future, he will lame easily if he is nae careful,” the blacksmith said, and Evie nodded, crossing over to the where he held the horse by the mane.

  “Thank ye, I will dae,” she replied.

  “And what were ye speakin’ with the Musgrave lad about?” the blacksmith asked, but Evie simply shook her head.

  “Nothin’ of importance, but I shall keep yer secret if ye will keep mine,” she said, and the blacksmith nodded.

  “Aye, well, good day to ye, lass, and if ye ever wish to learn more about the blacksmith’s art, I am more than willin’ to instruct ye,” he said, as Evie nodded and wished him goodbye, leading the horse back up the path towards Kirklinton.

  Evie knew that her actions that day would count as treachery if her father or brothers ever discovered what she had done. A sense of guilt ran through her as she crossed the heathers towards the castle.

  I should just forget him, but I cannae, she thought to herself, shaking her head, my father would never forgive me, neither would Mother or Rory or Owen, but they daenae understand.

  Evie could not simply rid herself of her growing feelings for Hamish. As much as she tried, she had no choice but to give into them. They were dangerous, treacherous, and she felt a sense of betrayal. But her heart was conflicted, and Evie knew that if she did not see Hamish again, then her curiosity and desire would only grow further.

  Will I see Hamish tomorrow? How I hope so, even though I know it to be wrong, she thought to herself, but her fate was in the hands of another and, as she walked home across the moorlands that day, Evie knew that once again she had betrayed her family’s trust, a fool to her desires, a fool for her feelings.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hamish MacBryde did not relish the prospect of Isabella’s return from the south. Since his return from the castle at Kirklinton, he had kept himself to himself, not even visiting his father or seeing to the tasks required of him. He had been something of a recluse, shutting himself away in the parlor or taking long walks up onto the moorlands, though avoiding the territory of the Elliotts at all cost.

  He had no desire for another encounter with Fraser or his sons, for he knew he had had a lucky escape.
If it had not been for Evie’s intervention, then he would surely have been made a prisoner, an act which could only have led to war upon the borders. How fortunate he had been to escape, and he had no intention of placing himself in such danger again.

  Ye must forget the girl, he kept repeating to himself, for there would be no further opportunity to see her, and he had resolved to put the whole sorry incident behind.

  But there was something about her which he found fascinating, an allure about her which he could not forget. The thought of her sent such a feeling through him as he had never felt before, she was beautiful, but there was far more to it than that. She represented everything that Isabella was not, and now he had seen her kindness again in the determination she had shown to see him freed.

  Now it seems it was his turn to thank her for rescuing him and ensuring that he was kept safe from the vengefulness of her father and brothers.

  Fools, why can they nae see that ‘Tis better to seek peace than to cling to the conflicts of the past? He thought to himself as he sat in front of the fire, brooding over the events of the past few days.

  He felt guilty that he had not paid a visit to his father lying in his bed above. But he knew that it would only result in further chastisement and a sense on his part that he could never please the old Laird, however hard he tried. Hamish sighed, just as the door to the parlor opened, and one of the soldiers appeared breathlessly before him.

  “The mistress has been sighted, sir. She is ridin’ across the heathers now with her entourage. Dae ye wish to meet her?” the soldier said, and Hamish nodded.

  “Aye, I had better dae, so,” he replied and followed the soldier out into the farmyard.

  It was a cold day, and the dogs had not bothered to follow him from their place next to the fire. He shivered, wrapping his cloak tighter about him and hurried across the farmyard towards the castle gate. It had been shut for the previous days, reports of clansmen from the north circulating amongst the crofters loyal to the MacBrydes, and Hamish had had no wish to be taken by surprise in an attack.

  Now, they were opened, and he made his way out onto the moorlands, watching for Isabella’s horse, which he could now see in the far distance, riding at pace towards him, accompanied by several Musgrave soldiers, their banners fluttering in the breeze.

  Hamish was in no mood to see Isabella, the past few days without her constant antagonism and jealousy had come as something of a relief. He hated himself for feeling in such a way towards the woman to whom he was betrothed, but he was finding it harder and harder to disguise his contempt for her, and she approached he steeled himself for whatever conflict she would bring to bear upon him.

  “So, you saw fit to come and meet me. It has been a long ride and I am tired,” Isabella said, reining in the horse and clambering down.

  Hamish nodded, taking the horse’s reins and leading it back towards the castle and signaling for the accompanying soldiers to ride on ahead.

  “Ye encountered nay trouble on the road? We have had reports of northern clansmen causing trouble for our folks,” Hamish said, and Isabella shook her head.

  “They wouldnae trouble me, I am a Musgrave. If anyone were to interfere with me, they would know my family’s wrath soon enough, and besides, I have the soldiers with me. You know that well enough, Hamish,” she replied, leading him back towards the open gates.

  “Aye, lass, I know,” he replied, deciding to make no further comment until the horse was stabled, and they had made their way into the parlor.

  The dogs ran to meet him, sniffing around, as Isabella settled herself in a chair by the fire.

  “Arrangements for the wedding are forthcoming. We do not need to wait much longer,” Isabella said, warming her hands over the flames.”

  “And yer family will make the journey here?” he asked, and she looked at him and smiled.

  “No, that is what I intended to tell you. We will be married at Musgrave Castle, the family is most insistent upon it. It will show our strength and the strength of our two families. My father is adamant that we marry in England, the law is different, and we must be seen to be doing things properly,” she replied.

  Hamish shook his head, the agreement had been that he and Isabella would be married there in Scotland at the castle of the Ma.

  .cBrydes. It had been arranged in such a way so that his father could offer his blessing upon them, and the rest of the clan could gather for the traditional ceremonies. There had been no mention of their marrying south of the border, for Hamish had barely visited the Musgraves in their own home, his duties keeping him there upon the moorlands.

  “But … we cannae, it was agreed that we be married here so that my father could be present,” he said, shaking his head, but she simply laughed.

  “Am I to marry him?” she asked, “this way, we shall be married so as that our marriage is recognized in England. We are seeking to strengthen the ties across the borders, and a Scottish Laird coming to England will send a sign to the other clans that we English are here to stay.”

  She stood up, making her away over to him as he stood by the door. She smiled at him, placing her hands upon his shoulders.

  “If that is yer decision,” he replied, turning his head away from her.

  “It is,” she said, “come now Hamish, do I not even get a kiss after my long ride. Surely there is some reward in coming to this out of the way place.”

  She moved closer towards him, her eyes meeting his, as she smiled and laid her head upon his shoulder, her hands running seductively over his neck.

  “Isabella I …” he began, but she shushed him, placing her finger upon his lips.

  “Come now, Hamish. We are alone, are we not? There is no one to disturb us. You and I have had little time to … acquaint ourselves with one another,” she said, her lips now moving closer to his.

  “But I cannae, we are nay …” he began, worried for their honor if Isabella made too rash a move.

  “Allow yourself some freedom Hamish, I shall not tell anyone if you do not,” she said, taking his hand and placing it upon her waist, “what say we …”

  “Nay, Isabella. I cannae,” Hamish said, for he had no desire to possess her, no compulsion towards intimacy.

  I cannae, he thought to himself, for his thoughts were turned towards Evie, and Isabella’s touch made him feel only cold, for her seduction was only for her own advantage, and he knew it.

  “Just one kiss, Hamish,” and she leaned forward, her lips pressing against his, as she pushed him towards the wall and laughed.

  “Isabella,” he said, sharply and with the force of the words, he could not speak to her directly and the knowledge of the truth that he did not love her.

  He pushed her away, and she let out a cry, as though he had wounded her by guarding their honor.

  .

  “Then be like that, Hamish,” she said, her tone angry and unforgiving.

  “Isabella, we cannae give in to such temptations,” he said, but she only sneered at him and returned to her place by the fire.

  ,

  “I have had a long ride, Hamish. All I wish for now is to be left alone here in the chair and to rest, for it seems you have no interest in my being here, nor in me,” she said, as the door from the farmyard opened and a soldier came to stand before them.

  “Laird, there is a lad here, he says he has a horse for the mistress. He claims to be a Musgrave, ‘Tis a chestnut foal he has with him. Am I to believe him or send him away?” the soldier asked.

  “You are to believe him you fool,” Isabella said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, “I sent him to have the horse shod at the smithy in Kirklinton and instructed him to bring the horse here when it was done. My own will be tired from the ride here, and I wish to ride out in the coming days. The chestnut foal will suit me well for such purposes. Have him stabled and pay the boy for his trouble.”

  Hamish nodded to the soldier and not wishing to spend any further time in Isabella’s company. He followed
the man back out into the farmyard. There, standing by the stables, was the boy who could not have been older than sixteen, holding the chestnut foal. He wandered over to him, looking the animal up and down and rummaging in his tunic pocket for a coin to pay him for his trouble.

  “Are you the Laird?” the boy asked, and Hamish nodded disinterestedly.

  “Aye, Hamish Mackintosh, and I am to pay ye for yer trouble, lad. There ye are,” Hamish said, tossing the boy a silver coin and taking the foal by its reins.