She had thought of little else but the handsome MacBryde, and she was looking forward to telling him of her cunning plan to see him again. It had all worked very well, the horses would need regular shodding and she was now trusted to take them to the blacksmith. Now, she came to the ridge, and she expected to see Hamish waiting down below.
But there was no sign of him, only the partially frozen stream and a deer scratching in the snow. The first creature she had seen all day. When it saw her, it made a run for it, and she hurried down the bank and across the stream. Calling out tentatively for Hamish as she did so.
“Hamish,” the echo came back, but there was no sign of him, only the babbling stream and the silent fall of the snow.
Where is he? ‘Tis surely noon now, she thought to herself, having expected him to be there awaiting him.
She wondered what could possibly have happened to him. Had he been discovered? Had his fellow clansmen realized his treachery? The thought sent an ugly feeling running through her, for surely the MacBrydes would be as against their liaisons as her own family undoubtedly were. Each of them had crossed a line, the line of feelings far from appropriate given who they were and where they came from.
Or has he changed his mind about me? She thought to herself, a tear welling up in her eye.
It was possible, of course, perhaps he had come to his senses and realized the folly of that which they were engaged in. The tear ran down her cheek, and she shivered, pulling her shawl tightly around her and huddling down by a holly tree that grew close to the stream.
I will wait a while, she said to herself, perhaps he is delayed, or struggling in the snow. ‘Tis thick this day, and the path is nigh on impassable.
Evie began to sing to herself, not a very joyous song but one she had heard her mother sing often. It told of a woman left alone as her lover went off to war, the longing and uncertainty, as she wondered what had become of him.
“And then my love appeared, all on a springtide day, and we were happy with our lot, he and I today.”
But there was still no sign of Hamish, and now the snow was falling thickly. She shivered once more, glancing around her mournfully.
“Where are ye?” she whispered, a fresh tear running down her cheeks.
* * *
Hamish looked out at the snow and sighed. It was falling thick and fast, blanketing the moorlands and covering the castle. The fire was burning brightly in the hearth, and the dogs slumped in front of it. Isabella was sat sewing, and she looked up at him as he turned and sighed.
“What is it that troubles you, Hamish? Have you never seen snow upon the moorlands before?” she asked, laughing, as he shook his head.
“Nay, ‘Tis just … I … I had intended to walk out this day and check the high fences on the moorlands. The weather grows worse with each passin’ moment, though,” he replied.
“A day for sitting by the fire with your betrothed. Come now, Hamish, sit next to me,” she said, pointing to the chair at her side.
But Hamish had no desire to sit with her. Her constant jibes, the belittlement she delighted in, her very presence caused him to feel almost nauseous. The house seemed close, foreboding, and overbearing. He would gladly have relinquished all responsibility if only to escape. He had no desire to become Laird, at least not on the terms presented. It was not only his meeting Evie that had so changed his mind, but the thought had also been with him for some time.
He was no Laird, he wished only for a simple life. The life of a crofter perhaps, or the life of a simple soldier. The burden of responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders, and with his father close to death, Hamish knew that soon the burden would be entirely his. If he had Evie at his side, then perhaps such responsibility would be easier to bear, but with Isabella, it seemed like a millstone hung around his neck.
“I must see to the fences,” Hamish replied, and Isabella snorted.
“What nonsense, Hamish. You think yourself so important, the fences will wait. Now, come and sit with me. Perhaps … well, there is no one else here except your father. We might bolt the door and enjoy one another’s companionship alone, what say you?” she asked, but Hamish only shook his head.
“Later, perhaps,” he replied.
“Have your feelings towards me lessened, Hamish? We are to be married you and I. Yet you seem to take no delight in my company. Am I to think that you are possessed of different feelings than I? Our marriage will take place soon, and yet you seem disinterested in the matter, cold even. It would not do for my family to discover a rift between us. It would not do at all,” Isabella said, fixing him with a scowl.
“Isabella, I have duties to attend to. I cannae just lay them aside when ye wish me to sit with ye,” he replied, as the dogs looked up and whined.
“Even the beasts think you should remain here,” Isabella said, but Hamish had heard enough, his mind was fixed on the thought of seeing Evie, and he knew that if he did not leave soon, he would find the path almost impassable.
“I am goin’ out, Isabella. I will … I will sit with ye later, lass,” he said, but she only scowled and returned to her sewing.
Hamish sighed, donning his cloak and stepping out of the farmhouse into the snowy yard beyond. The soldiers were huddled around a little fire, and they looked up nervously as Hamish approached.
“We were just …” one of them began, but Hamish shook his head.
“Keep yerselves warm, lads. ‘Tis a bleak day and set only to become bleaker,” he replied, and the men nodded.
“Dae ye walk out on the moorlands, Laird? We should accompany ye,” one of them said, but Hamish dismissed him.
“Nay, lad. I will go alone, ‘Tis only to the high fences that I go. The livestock need seein’ to, and I shall be quicker alone than with an escort,” he replied, and the soldiers nodded, no doubt pleased to be left by the relative warmth of the fire.
As Hamish came to the gates, he turned and was surprised to see Isabella watching him from the parlor. She had an angry look upon her face, and he wondered if she suspected him of some treachery or another.
She is a suspicious and jealous lass, he said to himself, the thought of being rid of her becoming ever more appealing.
As he hurried across the heathers, he contemplated what such an act would mean. If he were to break off his engagement with Isabella, then what would that mean for the clan? Would the Musgraves break off their alliance with the MacBrydes? And what would happen then? Hamish felt trapped, for this betrothal was not born out of love but instead the practicality of alliance. He had no desire to sacrifice his happiness out of duty, though he cursed himself for thinking in such a manner.
Ye are to be Laird, Hamish MacBryde, and yet ye risk it all for a lass ye hardly know.
That thought stopped him in his tracks. He was in the middle of the moorlands now, a vast and bleak expanse of heather-covered snow. It stretched endlessly on every side, the thick grey clouds hanging above, like a mantle draped across the sky. He sighed, the snow falling onto his cloak, as though it would eventually consume him into the landscape.
He looked back towards the castle and then out along the path beyond. It seemed he faced a choice. He could return to Isabella and the inevitable misery it would bring, or he could reject his duty and press on to where his heart was leading.
The choice is yers, Hamish, he said to himself, as he stood amidst the snow.
But he was surprised at just how easily he made his decision. Hamish was tired of being a pawn in the games which his father had played. The betrothal to Isabella was the final piece in his father’s plan. A betrothal which would see the house of Musgrave united forever to the MacBrydes, thus securing the future of them all. But Hamish no longer wished to be the one to sacrifice his happiness for that of an alliance that had betrayed their true allies and made the name of MacBryde as mud amongst the Scottish clans.
I will have my happiness and let them all be damned, he said, turning his back on the path from whence he had come and str
iding boldly across the heathers towards Evie and a very different future.
Chapter Twenty-One
Evie was cold. She had sat waiting for Hamish for over an hour. Her feet were turning numb, and her shawl offered little protection from the snow, which fell persistently about her.
Is he comin’? She wondered to herself, glancing up again, hopefully towards the ridge.
But still, there was no sign of Hamish, and Evie became convinced that he was not coming. Perhaps he had made his choice, it was one she too had made and had thought him decided upon too. He had told her as much. But duty can be a relentless master, and if Hamish were anything like her father and brothers, then Evie knew that loyalty to his own cause could so easily outweigh his true feelings.
She knew she could not remain by the stream for much longer. She would catch her death of cold, and in her sorrow, she began to weep. Not only did she weep for Hamish’s absence, but for herself too. She had been prepared to risk all for Hamish, and now he had not come.
Or perhaps he is prevented? Those cruel Musgraves may have discovered our affections; they may have punished him, she thought to herself.
She had no desire to return home, for she wanted so desperately to see him, but if he were not to come, then she could hardly wait and freeze to death in that lonely spot.
I will go to the castle of the MacBrydes, perhaps I will see him, or even discover why he is waylaid, she said to herself, knowing that it was a foolish thing to do but caring little for what was foolish or not.
All that mattered was seeing Hamish, and if he were not to come to her, then she would come to him. Wrapping her shawl tightly around her, she set off up the moorland path, hurrying through the snow towards the castle of the MacBrydes.
* * *
Hamish paused and breathed deeply, he had been walking for around half an hour, and the snow was thick, making his path a difficult one. His breath was icy, and he rubbed his hands together, turning and stomping his feet.
But, as he did so, he was surprised to see a figure hurrying towards him along the path. At first, he was unsure of who it was, but as they approached, he saw the one person he had no desire to see, wrapped tightly in a shawl and cloak.
Isabella called to him, and despite wishing only to run off and away from her, he walked a few paces back, annoyed that she had followed him. Her expression was one of anger, and she scowled at him as she approached and wagged her finger.
“I wanted to walk with you, you did not look back once to see me struggling in the snow,” she said, taking his arm rather forcefully.
“Isabella, ‘Tis a terrible day, what possessed ye to follow me through the snow. I am … I am walkin’ up onto the high moorlands, ‘Tis nay place for ye,” Hamish replied, desperate to be rid of her and go on his way.
“And where precisely are you goin’ to, Hamish? This path will lead you onto Elliott lands, and you know full well the consequences of that,” she replied.
“I am to be Laird, I must know my lands, I must know their boundaries,” he replied, and she laughed.
“And why walk in the snow to discover them? You were never so interested in them before, why now?” she asked, tugging at his arm.
“Because … because ‘Tis my own business, Isabella, I wish to be left alone,” he replied.
“Oh, come now, Hamish. You have been distant from me for so long. I wanted to be with you, we are never alone at the castle, never truly alone,” Isabella said, and she pulled him to her, her hands going to his face and pulling him towards her lips.
He had no desire to kiss her, she held nothing of attraction to him. She wanted only to possess him, and her jealousy was such that he could find no room in his heart for her. For a moment, their lips locked, and she held him in an iron grip.
“Is … Isabella, nay,” he said, as she pulled away, laughing at him, and then kissed him again.
“Oh, Hamish, you are such a foolish man. Go, have your silly walk, I will be waiting for you back at the castle,” Isabella said, and she turned and stomped off through the snow.
Hamish sighed; he detested her. She was an odious woman, and jealous to her core.
Come on, else ye shall never get to see Evie, he said to himself, hurrying off through the snow and checking behind him at intervals, lest Isabella still be following him.
* * *
Evie was crying. She had made her way along the path towards the castle of the MacBrydes, hoping for some glimpse of Hamish on his way to meet her. But the further she had walked, the more hopeless she had felt.
He is nae comin’, and I will never see him again, she thought to herself, about to give up hope, when she caught sight of a solitary figure approaching.
She was close to a copse of trees, a few bare birch trees just off the path, and instinctively, she hid behind them. The path was a dangerous one, and she did not wish to meet any strangers in the snow. But as the figure approached, she realized it was Hamish. She could just make out his face, covered over by the hood of his cloak and she was about to step out from the trees and call to him when another figure came into view some way behind him.
Evie watched as the stranger came into view and she was shocked to see it was Isabella, taking Hamish by the arm. They seemed deep in conversation, as though they had planned to meet in this way, and Hamish had usurped Evie for Isabella.
I thought he had nay wish to be with her, Evie thought to herself, watching as the two continued to converse.
But suddenly, Isabella leaned up and kissed Hamish upon the lips. It was a kiss of passion, her arms around him, and a look of desire upon her face. Evie could not see Hamish, but it seemed as though he entirely reciprocated, his hands upon her cheeks, and they kissed not once, but twice.
Tears welled up in Evie’s eyes, and she turned tail and ran along the path, not waiting to see anything which happened next. How could he behave in such a manner, how could he betray her for the woman he had called jealous and cruel, the woman she thought he had every intention of breaking off his betrothal with.
The tears stung her eyes, and she brushed them away, stumbling in the snow and letting out a cry. She tumbled to the ground, rolling in the snow and weeping uncontrollably. How could he do this to her, after everything he had promised, everything that was meant to be. It was beginning to grow dark now, a chilly wind setting in and whipping up the snow drifts upon the moorland. She had picked herself up and struggled on along the path, making for home as quickly as she could.
How could he treat me like this? How could he behave in such a wicked way? She asked herself over and over again.
But she had no answer to her question, no sense of why he should have behaved in such a terrible way. Did he speak to Isabella in just the same way he spoke to her? Were they both being played against one another? Isabella had seemed such a jealous and unforgiving woman, but perhaps she had every right to be so, and Evie felt that same sense of jealousy building up inside her.
She wanted Hamish, she wanted him for herself. She had already risked so much and distanced herself from her family for the sake of him and the thought that together they might bring peace and new hope to the clans of the borders. But it seemed that he had no such desire, and as Evie ran home, tears ran down her cheeks as she wept for all that might have been.
I have been a fool, and I have risked everything, the very happiness of my family, and for what? She said to herself as she arrived at the gates of the castle.
It was dark now, and the torches burned above the gates. One of the soldiers shouted down to her, and she called up that it was she, returned from the blacksmith’s. She would not need such an excuse again and she felt such a pang of guilt running through her at the realization of how close she had come to betraying her family.
Was he only usin’ me? She wondered, did I tell him anythin’? Somethin’ that might be of use to our enemies?
She brushed the tears away from her eyes and hurried across the snow-covered courtyard towards the welcoming li
ghts of the keep. This was her home, here at Kirklinton, with her family surrounding her. She had been such a fool to see anything more in Hamish than an enemy.
Perhaps he even waited by the stream for me on purpose, she thought to herself, making her way up the stairs towards the Great Hall.
There, she found her mother sitting by the fire. She was alone, and Evie took a deep breath as she entered. Her mother looked up and smiled, pointing to a chair by the fire, and Evie took her place, glad of the warmth after the chill of the moor.
“Did the horses get seen to?” her mother asked, looking up from her sewing.
“Nay … nay, mother. They will be ready in the mornin’, and I will return for them then,” Evie replied.
A Highlander Born From Chaos (Highlanders 0f Kirklinton Book 2) Page 14