Highland Wish

by Colleen MacGregor

  “Swords.”

  I think I must have said that aloud, as he narrows his gaze. Having the full attention of the beautiful, angry man before me, I take a step back.

  Angus points his sword at my heart and growls, “And who are you?”

  That I don’t faint dead away is a miracle. Instead, little Duncan bravely steps to the warrior’s side and pulls his kilt to get his attention.

  “Nay, Angus, lower your sword. She saved me.”

  The warrior doesn’t flinch. More resolute, young Duncan squares his shoulders.

  “Now, Angus. Lower your claymore. I order ye.” That command seems to get through to Angus, and he points his sword to the ground.

  We are fully surrounded now, but Duncan doesn’t seem afraid. He clearly knows these men well and has some authority over them.

  Just as Angus sheaths his massive sword over his shoulder, a loud, frantic voice cuts through the tension, “Duncan, son, where are ye?” And with that, the little boy runs into his father’s arms.

  The logical part of my brain rejects the absurdity of this situation. Before I can contain it, a deranged giggle escapes me, and I quickly cover my mouth.

  Shaking in earnest, I dig my toes into the earth below, searching for reality. Apparently, Angus doesn’t miss anything because he removes his tartan and wraps it around me, pinning it at my shoulder. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my face. Instinctively, I lean into him. He doesn’t move away.

  I barely notice the men step aside and allow the little boy and his father make their way to me. Angus remains between us, angling his body slightly.

  “Ye saved me,” Duncan declares. “Yer so brave. I canna believe you fought the Murrays with a stick.”

  The boy’s father takes my hands and squeezes. “You have my thanks, lady.” He looks expectantly at me, and I barely eke out, “Katherine Cameron.”

  “I am Douglas MacGregor and this young man is my son, Duncan.” He ruffles the boy’s hair, smiling at him. “If I may ask, how did you find yourself in the woods in nothing but . . .” He tilts his head and nods at my present state.

  I have no idea how to answer because the truth is too much for even me to grasp. Fortunately, I’m saved from having to fumble through a lie.

  “Father, the Murrays must have absconded with her as well. Why else would she be in the woods in that?” He points to me.

  Though I’m covered in the heavy plaid, I feel naked.

  “Lady Katherine.” He smiles gently at me. “Let’s get you both back to the castle. You’ve had quite enough excitement for one day.”

  “And you.” He pins the little boy with a glare. “Your mother will have a few words for ye.” With my name and story neatly in place, it appears we’re heading back to the MacGregor castle. I have no idea what I’m going to do, but at least I’m safe for now.

  “Come,” Angus commands.

  I notice that he’s still standing close, and he has a look on his face that I can’t quite place. Is it anger? He appears agitated. Maybe that’s his perpetual countenance.

  I follow Angus through the trees. As I do, my brain is trying to catch up to my galloping heart. I should be reviewing my options. Perhaps I can try to run away or maybe try to find the castle?

  Instead of running away from Angus, I trail behind him.

  Not a bad view.

  Gaining a little bravado, I move to walk alongside Angus. From this view, beside him, I have a chance to study him a little. I barely come to his shoulders so he must be over six feet six since I’m five eight. I notice that though his hair is brown, when light catches it, there’s some red and gold strands interspersed. Looking around at the men, they’re all massive, wearing kilts and leather armbands. Their hair is almost as long as mine, and they have narrow, thin braids down the sides of their faces. With boots laced to their calves and swords strapped across the length of their backs, I’m glad they’re on my side.

  Ouch! I stop and grab my foot. Trying to maintain my balance while I rub my foot makes me wish I didn’t quit yoga. Ava said I was too stressed and needed to stay limber. I can only laugh to myself as her words come back to mock me. Since I’m not wearing any shoes, it’s proving impossible not to step on a jagged rock or twig. Running to my side, Duncan looks worried.

  “What happened, Lady Katherine?”

  “It’s okay, Duncan. I just stepped on something sharp.” Trying to balance as I take a look at my filthy, bleeding foot and wonder if this pain is real or if I’ll wake up snuggled under the soft down comforter in the castle.

  “You’ve no shoes and now you’re bleeding. Angus, you should carry her.”

  I immediately look up, horrified, ready to protest. “No, I’m fine. No need to . . . Ahh!” I’m unable to finish my sentence because without preamble or permission, I’m scooped up like a child by Angus.

  Oh my. This is not unpleasant.

  The men are all looking now that he’s made a spectacle of us. Duncan and Lord MacGregor are laughing and Angus, well, he’s looking straight ahead. I must weigh a ton because the vein on the side of his neck is pulsing and I can feel his heart his pounding.

  “Angus, put me down. I’m fine.” He glances at me and continues walking. This would be terribly romantic if he wasn’t scowling at me. Angus, carrying me, makes his way through the woods with only Duncan’s cheerful chatting and my pounding pulse permeating the silence.

  What am I going to do once I get to the castle? Dear God, the girls must be frantic. How am I going to get home?

  Silent tears slip down my face as the adrenaline abates and the reality of the situation comes crashing down on me. I tremble with the realization that I’ll probably never see my friends again. I pull the plaid up to hide my face and rest against Angus. He doesn’t say anything. I’m sure he can’t wait to get as far away from me as possible. Men just love crying women.

  By the time we reach the clearing and the horses, my tears have subsided. Angus puts me down and readies his horse. It’s a beautiful beast, like its owner, and it occurs to me that I’ve never been on a horse before. Ever. The horseback riding lessons that Maddy organized looked like fun, but I opted for a tour of the castle instead. Now I wish I had taken the damn lessons. Owning a lovely pair of Tory Burch riding boots does not count toward a riding lesson.

  As I’m thinking about the tall brown boots that I’ll never wear again, Angus’s low, deep Scots accent pierces my melancholy, shattering it to bits.

  “Ye’ll ride with me.”

  Chapter 3

  It’s the only warning I get before he practically tosses me up onto the horse. I hear the tear before I can stop it. The slit that ran up my right leg now extends up my thigh. Thank goodness for Angus’s plaid.

  As I try to adjust myself while not falling to my death, Angus swings up behind me. Nothing but the wool of the plaid and his kilt separates us. His nearness distracts me from the overwhelming fear of falling and breaking my neck. I’m aware of the smell of the horse, the coarse hair of its mane between my fingers, but mostly I’m aware of Angus’s arm around my waist.

  “Have you kin?” Angus asks.

  I feel his arm tense and his fingers grip my waist. Very much aware of the hard saddle beneath me and the hair of his legs against my skin, I’ve lost the power of speech. He turns his head to address me again.

  “Katherine, have you any kin? A husband?”

  I can’t seem to unscramble the words from my brain.

  You have a damn Master’s degree in English, Kate. Snap out of it!

  “No. I’m alone now,” I say under my breath as I turn away to look over the green hills. I bite my lip to keep from crying again, afraid that if I start, I’ll never stop.

  His beard brushes my hair as he gathers me closer and whispers something in Gaelic. It’s lo
vely. I don’t understand this man and I shake my head and sigh. He reminds me of Crathes and the land upon which it’s built—strong and rugged, yet lovely. I should be frightened, but oddly enough I’ve never felt safer. I feel as though we’ve been together before. Like this is fated. Safe enough that I close my eyes as I sway in the saddle.

  ~ ~ ~

  I must have been more tired than I thought because when I open my eyes, I wake in a soft bed.

  A warm smile and cheery green eyes greet me.

  “Och, there ye are. My name is Mary. Ye slept well. Didn’t even wake when Angus carried ye to his room,” she remarks as she bustles about the room, returning to my side with a bowl and spoon.

  “You poor dear. Now, I’ve some broth and wine for ye. Come sit up and I’ll feed ye.” With that she slips her arms around me and lifts me to a seated position. She puts the spoon with broth to my mouth, and I drink it much like a child would be when fed by its mother.

  While she feeds me she explains, “When Duncan went missing, we were all so worried. The laird was out of his mind with grief. Angus didn’t take long to find you and Duncan though, and a good thing he did for those thieving Murrays were trying to abscond with the boy.”

  “Ye poor dear, ye were verra brave to save Master MacGregor after the terrible ordeal ye survived.” She tsks and feeds me more broth.

  Terrible ordeal? How does she know? I still haven’t said a word when there’s a knock at the door.

  Duncan peeks his head around it. “Mistress, yer awake. It’s good to see yer feelin’ better. I was scared you’d never wake.”

  “Duncan, come along now and let the poor woman rest. This is no place for a little boy.”

  He pouts and pulls himself up straighter. “Mary, I’m nay so little. I’m nine years old now. Old enough to be laird of this castle.”

  Quite proud of himself, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry for your family. Angus said you’ve no kin. You’ll stay with us then.”

  “We’ll take care of ye dear.” Mary’s smile is warm and genuine, and I like her immediately. “Go on now, shoo,” Mary says as she ushers Duncan from the room.

  “Fine, but I’ll be back,” Duncan says and smiles as he lopes off singing a song of my name as he trots out the door.

  “Dinna mind him. He’s a good boy, got his father’s face and his mother’s kind heart. I’ll let ye rest a bit.”

  She gathers the soup and leaves me bread and wine. I lie back against the soft, cool bedding and listen to the rhythm of the castle. The sounds of horses and swords clashing are not familiar sounds, not those of my home. Despite the strangeness of my surroundings, with a belly full of broth and nestled in the comfortable bed, I let blessed sleep take me.

  My eyes protest against the sunlight streaming into the room. Still low in the sky, I think it must be morning but I don’t know for sure. The quiet is lovely. It’s like being at the library. I don’t hear the usual sounds of the city. No horns honking, no sirens shrieking. In my apartment in the city, I sleep with my window open a crack. I like the sounds of the city. Here, in this place, I find myself oddly at ease. I’m usually up early; I would have been to the gym and checked my phone and all social media by now. I can’t remember a time that I didn’t have a phone in my hand. There are no modern conveniences in the room. No lamps or light switches on the walls. No television or docking station for a phone. Just this large bed made of dark wood and books. I stretch and take stock of my body and then of my situation. I turn to my side and face the open window.

  Tiny dust motes like sparkling stars dance in the air as the sunlight catches them. The air itself is still as crisp as I remember, but now there’s a note of something more. Lavender, I think. I turn my face into the pillow and breathe in. Yes, it’s definitely lavender. It’s a lovely fragrance. The linens don’t smell of fabric softener or starch. I may as well have awoken in a field. Lavender and man. There’s nothing feminine about this bed or this room.

  It’s a sparsely decorated room containing only essentials. The gigantic poster bed I lie in takes up the majority of the space. I lean to look over the side. I would need a step to get into it. The rugs covering much of the stone floor are a beautiful crimson and taupe design. A large dark wood armoire stands against the far wall, and there is one small side table next to the bed with an oil lamp on it. Burnt low as if the owner spent time reading in bed. Blinking in the beautiful sunlight and continuing my perusal of the room, I have more questions than answers, but I’m thankful that I’ve come to meet the kindness of the MacGregor clan. Looking up, I can see the massive wood beams that cross the ceiling. With a lone window for light, I hop down from the bed like a child and cross to admire the landscape. Green fields, woods and a lake in the distance, my fingers trace the stone lintel. Though my brain tries to reject my reality, I can’t argue with the hard stone beneath my feet and hands.

  I look down at the courtyard. Women are dressed in long, rough-hewn gowns the colors blend with the landscape. Some blue and crimson interspersed among the green and brown. The men wear trousers with leather belts, and some wear kilts. I can see their cool breath mingling with the morning air. There are no skyscrapers, nobody carrying phones or cups of coffee. Lanterns are being doused and horses are being fed. People are chatting and laughing. Leaning out of the window, I peek around the corner and see a vine with little white flowers on it.

  It’s just far enough to be out of my reach, but the scent is carried to me along the slight breeze, and as I close my eyes and savor a dream from which I’m sure to awaken, the door opens and Mary enters along with a bevy of other women.

  Dresses and ribbons are laid at the end of the bed. Others enter with an assortment of linens and nightgowns, shoes and stockings. I watch the women fill a large copper tub with wooden buckets of steaming water while others bring in beautiful bottles and jars. Mary opens each and sniffs. When she finally choses the one she wants, she adds a little to the water. Once the last bucket is dumped into the tub, Mary closes the door and stands in front of me.

  “Come, lass. Let’s get you in the tub while it’s still hot.” She reaches for me, but I step back.

  “I can do it myself,” I say a little too sharp.

  “Tch. Nonsense. A lady doesna dress herself.” Mary’s brows furrow and I make no further protests.

  “Dammnnn,” I hiss under my breath and Mary gives me the eye.

  “Come lass. I havena all day to dally with ye. There’s much to do yet.”

  The massive copper tub is like nothing I’ve ever seen.

  “This tub is huge, Mary. You could fit a soccer team in here.” I laugh as my body adjusts to the heat.

  “I dinna ken about yer soccer team lass but it’s made big enough for Angus, that’s for certain.” Mary smiles as she begins her ministrations.

  “This is Angus’s tub,” I say aloud.

  “This is his room, lass. He carried ye here, don’t ye remember?” Mary asks.

  “No, not really,” I respond.

  “He seems verra protective of ye.”

  “Protective, of me? How so?” I can’t fathom of why she’d say that.

  “He carried you and didna allow anyone else to. Then he put you in his room when there are many other available rooms in the castle,” she states matter-of-factly.

  “Well, I’m very grateful for his kindness and the hospitality of the MacGregor’s.” I don’t want to think too much about being in his arms, or his bed.

  Sitting back, I close my eyes and inhale the lovely scent. “Now I’m going to put some salve on your wounds. Ye look like you’ve been playing in the brush,” Mary says. She laughs to herself as she applies some of the cool paste to my face.

  She finishes her application and puts the jar back on the table. Between the scented water and the herbs she’s applied to my
cuts, I feel a little better. It’s like being at a medieval spa. I can’t remember the last time that I took a bath. Everything in life is always so rushed, so scheduled. I shower, dress, and go. There’s no time for pampering unless I book an appointment.

  “Let’s get ye ready for hall. We’ll feed ye and you’ll feel much better. The laird and mistress MacGregor are wanting to thank ye for saving young Duncan.” Mary’s lilting accent and soft voice is like a Lakmé aria. The light sweetness fills the room, and I am instantly at ease.

  There’s really no way around her. Mary’s a force of nature. She reminds me of Maddy. Quick, efficient, and strong-willed. I wonder if I’ll ever see my friend again.

  Getting dressed is an involved process. I’m dressed in more layers than I’ve ever worn, but the fabric is so soft and light it doesn’t feel as cumbersome as I expect.

  “Oh, this is lovely,” I say as Mary runs a brush through my hair.

  “Ah, Katherine, you’ve been through so much but the MacGregor’s won’t turn you out. I’m certain Lady MacGregor will have a plan for you.”

  Dressed and hair pinned in place, I feel less unhinged. I can only imagine how I must look. There’s no mirror in the room. No walk-in closet with racks of shoes and bags. No cosmetics or arrangement of perfumes and lotions. No comforts of home. This is new territory. I never thought of myself as high-maintenance before, but without my iPhone in my hand, I feel naked.

  “There now, ye look bonny. Come, let’s be off.”

  And with that, I follow Mary down to the MacGregor’s great hall and the unknown. I’ll have to formulate a story. They’ll surely have lots of questions—questions for which I currently have no answers. Apparently, Duncan thinks I was kidnapped like he was and that my family was killed in the process. I’m willing to go with that. Hopefully, they won’t ask too much more. The more lies I tell, the more I’ll have to remember. I should think of some of the stories that James told in the castle. Treat this as though it’s not happening to me but as if I’m telling a story about someone else. If I remove myself, perhaps I can remain calm and stick with as much truth as possible.