Highland Soldiers 1: The Enemy

by J. L. Jarvis

  Pleased and surprised by the gesture, Mari thanked him.

  He made a guttural, dismissive sound as he joined the rest of the men.

  Callum took her hand and drew her attention to him. “I, Callum, take you, Mari, as my wife. I will love you as long as my heart beats.”

  The words caught in her throat. “I, Mari… ”

  “Och, lass,” he said, wiping tears from Mari’s flushed cheeks. He shook his head, and lifted her chin. “This weeping is not a good omen.”

  She laughed in spite of her tears. “They’re tears of joy.”

  “Aye, joy.” He nodded and grinned, as if he did not believe her. “Go on, then.”

  Their smiles faded. “I, Mari, take you, Callum, as my husband, because I cannae imagine not being with you. And because I love you, and will till I die.”

  Callum pulled Mari close and kissed her so thoroughly that she blushed as he released her. Callum followed Mari’s gaze to Nellie and Hughie, who were both unaware that their mouths were agape. The other men made encouraging noises. With raised brow, Callum said, “Haud yer wheesht! We’re married now.”

  “As married as twa people can be!” Nellie glowed from the obvious joy, and perhaps just a bit from the whisky. She filled all the glasses and they toasted again, while a few of his men played the fiddle, pipes, and bodhrán, and everyone danced—except Callum and Mari.

  Tired of watching the others, Callum stood with the help of his crutch. “Come, lass. We’re going to dance.”

  Mari looked at him, stunned. “No, I could not. It’s wicked.”

  “So is marrying a Catholic. So you’re making great strides today.”

  With a grin, he pulled her to her feet. The lads played a slow song. What they did was as close to a dance as Callum’s injured leg would allow. As he held her fully against him, Mari protested no further.

  As the late summer darkness came, Callum sent his men off to continue the celebration on their own. Nellie made herself scarce, having made arrangements to sleep elsewhere for the night. This left Callum and Mari to spend their wedding night on a cot in the tent.

  Mari became very busy tidying up.

  “Mari.” His eyes shone as his unsettling gaze bore through. “Turn down the light—else we’ll make a grand silhouette outside the tent.”

  With a small gasp, her eyes rounded. She quickly extinguished the lamp. A full moon lit them in soft shadows. He held out his hand, which she took and came closer. She hesitated, looking uncertain. “Your leg… how can we…?”

  Callum assumed a brave, noble tone. “Aye, well, lass. We must.” He shook his head, frowning. “There’s one wee problem with common law marriage. It’s not legal until it is consummated.” He looked into her eyes with a satisfied smile. “Aye. So, you see, wound or not—it’s my duty.”

  “Och!” Mari released his hand with a playful shove. “I can see this is not going to be easy,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Aye, well, the cot will make things awkward, but we’ll manage.”

  “I meant being married to you!”

  Outside soldiers were drinking and singing, releasing the burdens of battle. But inside the tent it grew still. Callum touched Mari’s skirt and gathered the cloth in his fist, pulling her to the edge of the cot, where he sat. In a low voice, he said, “Come closer, lass.” He slid his palms up the front of her bodice and slipped his fingertips over the edge. Mari inhaled sharply. Slowly he unlaced her bodice and set loose her breasts, holding them in his palms. Mari’s breathing grew shallow and uneven. Callum slid his hands down to her hips and guided her, until she straddled him. When he winced she began to get up, but he shifted her weight from his wounded thigh.

  She resisted. “What if I hurt you?”

  “I ache already from wanting you, Mari.”

  He caressed her until her back arched and she clung to the folds of his discarded plaid. He grasped her and fitted her to him. She responded to him, eliciting a guttural sound from his throat. Mari panted and whispered his name as he held her hips for a final thrust, and exhaled. She leaned over to kiss him, and then carefully lay down against him.

  “What’s this?” he asked, touching her cheek, moist with tears.

  “Nothing.”

  With sudden concern, he said, “Mari, have I hurt you?”

  “No!” She kissed his neck and whispered, “No. It’s just that I love you so.”

  “My love.” He gathered her close, pressing his lips to her forehead, as she rested her head in the curve of his neck.

  After moments had passed, he said, “Lass, about these tears of yours—there have been so many today, I cannae keep track. These are the happy ones, aye?”

  Even in the darkness, he heard the smile in her voice. “Yes, my beloved daft Callum. Very happy ones.”

  * * *

  They awoke to the sounds of the troops breaking camp. Callum emerged from the tent to find Nellie beginning to pack up her cooking utensils. She rested her hands on her hips. “I must bid you farewell, lad.”

  “Farewell?” Mari ducked out of the tent and stood beside Callum.

  Nellie said, “A few of the lads who were injured are going back to Glengarry.” This much was not news to Callum. With a resigned air, she said, “I’m going back with them. They need a good cook, and they’ll see me home safely.”

  “But do Hughie and Charlie have leave to go with you?” asked Mari.

  “No, but these bones are too old for this sort of life. Hughie’s a man now, and Charlie can take care of himself. They’ve no need of me, and I need to go home.”

  Callum had noticed Nellie moving more stiffly. This could not have been easy for her, so he had to agree that she ought to go home.

  Nellie stepped close to him, taking his hands in hers. “Laddie, will you look after Hughie? Charlie’s a bit too—Charlie.” She grinned and Callum nodded with a laugh.

  “Aye, of course I will.”

  Nellie peered into his eyes. “Bring them home to me safely. Promise me.”

  “Nellie. I’ll do my best. You have my word.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Och, Callum, you’re a good lad.” Through her tears she added, “And you have a good wife.” She turned to Mari and hugged her, and then Callum. Before an hour had passed, they were waving to Nellie as she rode her pony and cart out of camp.

  * * *

  Callum was granted two weeks’ leave to recuperate, which he welcomed as a chance to be with his bride. He had offered to take her home to make things right with her family, but Mari sadly said no. She had already publicly disgraced them. Even if they were to accept a marriage outside of the Presbyterian Church, which in itself was out of the question, it would fan the flames of her scandal and make her parents’ life unbearable. She would not do that to them—assuming they would welcome her home, given this final blow, which Mari was sure they would not. In truth, they could not, if they were to stay in the good graces of the church. Callum had to agree. There was no question that her parents would oppose the marriage on principle alone. With him as the groom, it was worse. He was the stranger who had practically kidnapped their daughter in the middle of a kirk service. How could they not be reluctant to see that man bring home their daughter as his wife? But he saw that she was homesick. Callum did not like beginning their life together under a cloud of estrangement from her parents. For now, though, he agreed with Mari to leave things as they were. So they set out with the rest of the dragoons for Edinburgh. When Callum was better, he thought they might journey on to St. Andrews, for a few weeks alone by the sea. But for now, his leg pained him and he needed rest.

  Barely able to mount his horse, Callum did not ride with ease, but the aching was dulled by the feel of Mari’s body before him, softly molded to his.

  On the way out of camp, they passed the twelve hundred prisoners taken in battle. They were tied, two-by-two, in a seemingly endless procession.

  “Where will they take them?”

  “Edinburgh,” answered Callu
m.

  “But where can they put that many men?”

  “I’m not sure. The Tollbooth cannae hold all of these men. There was talk of Greyfriars Kirkyard.” He stopped as Mari stared over at one particular prisoner, and the young man stared back with an accusatory gaze. As quickly as their eyes had met, the young man gave his head a subtle cautionary shake and looked away.

  “Jamie,” she whispered. She took a breath and was about to call out to him more loudly.

  An English officer rode within earshot. Callum suddenly took hold of Mari’s shoulder and chin and pivoted her about for a kiss. Mari struggled to speak, but he held her firmly in place until the officer had passed them. As he released her from his kiss, he murmured, “Quiet, lass.”

  “But Callum,” she whispered, “I thought I saw Jamie.”

  “If you did, you cannae speak to him now without putting yourself in grave danger.”

  “From speaking to Jamie?”

  Callum turned her to face forward again and spoke in low tones in her ear. “They think he might have been one of the lads who murdered Archbishop Sharp.”

  “My brother? That’s nonsense.”

  When Callum did not readily agree, Mari said over her shoulder, “Well, it is. Jamie would never—Callum, how do you ken this?” Mari’s eyes widened as she studied Callum. “You knew he was alive.”

  Callum did not speak or alter his expression.

  She turned away. “But you chose not to tell me.”

  “Lass, this is not the place to discuss this.”

  Mari could not hide her dismay.

  He leaned close to her. “Smile, lass,” he said quietly through a feigned smile. “People are watching.”

  Mari looked about. There were soldiers all about them.

  Callum spoke quietly. “I knew that he might be alive, but I had to be certain. It would have hurt you too much if it turned out not to be true.”

  “And you think losing my faith in you doesnae hurt me?”

  Mari’s words wounded. “Lass, in truth I could not tell you without revealing that he was a suspect.”

  Mari stiffened as the truth hit her. “And that you were sent to my farm to find him?”

  “Aye.”

  “And do what?”

  Callum said nothing.

  “What were you going to do when you found him?”

  Callum lifted his head and kept his eyes on the road straight ahead. “I cannae say.”

  “You mean that you willnae say.”

  His eyes hardened. “I said what I mean. I cannae say what I would do without knowing how I might have found him. Whether he had a gun pointed at me, or…”

  “Or you at him.”

  Callum tilted his head to acknowledge the possibility without voicing it.

  “You let me fall in love with you, and all the while you were planning to kill my brother.”

  Callum said, “Capture.”

  Mari nodded bitterly. “Oh, capture—so that someone else might kill him.”

  “Lass, you knew I was there on the side of the crown.”

  “Aye, but I didnae ken you were after my brother, or that he was alive.”

  “Might have been alive.”

  “Och! And that’s different, is it?” Mari shifted her weight but, riding together as they were, she had nowhere to go. “You lied to me.”

  “Withheld the truth.”

  “I dinnae ken you. You’re a stranger to me.”

  Callum took her bitter words with clenched jaw. “I am your husband, and you are my wife. I will not trade your safety for his.”

  “Well, I would. And I’m glad he did not come home and fall into your trap.”

  “Och, lass, you should wish that he had. When they ken who he is, what I say or do will not matter.”

  * * *

  When they stopped at midday, Mari slipped from the saddle. They had ridden together without words. Mari now seized this first chance to be free of the man she had married, and went walking alone. The prisoners were not far ahead, chained and seated. Keeping a distance lest she arouse suspicion, Mari walked along the line of the six hundred pairs of prisoners.

  “Stay back with the other camp followers, Miss,” said a stern voice.

  Startled, Mari turned to face a dragoon guard. “I was just walking.”

  “Back with the others, Miss.”

  Heading back, she spied Callum struggling toward her with his crutch, looking furious.

  When he reached her, he took hold of her elbow and said in a hushed growl, “Take my arm and walk nicely, wife. I’ll not ask what you’re doing.” He guided her firmly along. Angry as she was, Mari could not bring herself to struggle against him, for the pain each step caused him was clear.

  “Husband,” she said with near loathing, “I will find my brother.”

  Her eyes caught the attention of one particular prisoner who held her gaze for several moments, and then looked away as a guard drew closer.

  Callum gripped her elbow and tugged her away. He quietly scolded, “Think what you’re doing, lass! Do you want to wind up marching with them?” With reluctance, she walked on. “It was Jamie.”

  When they were well past the prisoners, Callum paused to lean against a tree. Although he did not complain, his leg hurt him badly.

  Mari said, “What if I had not seen him? Would you ever have told me?”

  “Not until I kent it for sure. There was only suspicion that he was alive.”

  “Which you did not share with me.” She stopped walking. “What else have you not told me? Is anything true, or were you just using me to find Jamie?”

  “I married you, lass. Is that not proof enough?”

  “No. After all, it’s not even a real marriage.”

  She took a step, but Callum grabbed her and spun her around with her back to the tree. Callum cursed his leg as he shifted his weight and leaned against her, with one arm on the tree. If Mari thought she had seen the anger of Callum MacDonell before, she was wrong. For this was an anger that quietly seared. Mari took in a fearful breath, worried by what he might do in this state.

  He bent down. Pinned to the tree as she was, Mari flinched and looked off to the side, but he took her face and held it so she was forced to look into his eyes. She willed herself not to cry, and faced him with defiance. And with that, Callum kissed her. His thighs pressed against her. When her resolve softened, her lips followed suit. Callum’s hand slid from its hold on her face and slipped beneath her arm. He kissed her deeply and well past the point when her arms circled his neck and a small moan escaped from her throat. His hand slid down the sides of her breasts to her waist, and she arched into him. As his arm circled her waist, he pulled her against him until their two forms molded together. Before his own knees went weak, he gently pulled away, leaving Mari’s lips helplessly parted and breathless. She watched him with round, helpless eyes, unable to form words.

  Callum’s fierce eyes glimmered with anger. “If this is not a real marriage, then that was not a real kiss.”

  14

  At Home in Edinburgh

  For two days the prisoners marched until they arrived in Edinburgh. Jamie was imprisoned, along with the bulk of the Covenanters, at Greyfriars Kirkyard. There was no shelter there, but the Highlanders thought little of it. No Highlander reached manhood without having slept out in the open air. Snow and freezing temperatures made no difference. They would wet down their plaids, which would freeze and block out the wind. Having heard tales of this, Mari dreaded finding out what her Edinburgh accommodations might be. But Callum surprised her by bringing her to some rooms he had rented on the third floor of a merchant’s land on High Street.

  “Oh, Callum!” she exclaimed as she rushed from one room to another. Large windows looked out over the street. The last room she found sported an iron bed with a thick mattress. She sat on it and sank into bliss.

  “Eiderdown! Callum, it’s grand!”

  The door latched with a click, and the mattress shifted as
Callum stretched out next to her. He leaned on one elbow beside her and stroked the edge of her bodice. “Since we’ve been married, we’ve not had a proper bed to lie in.”

  She looked into his eyes, which had a mischievous glint. “Aye.”

  Callum sat up and seemed to be preparing to leave, much to Mari’s surprise.

  “Well, I’m glad you clarified that fine fact,” said Mari, confused by his sudden inattention. She had not seen him removing his hose and shoes.

  Callum turned and leaned over Mari’s feet. First he slipped off one shoe, and then the other, then one finger’s length at a time he slid her hose down until they lay pooled at her ankles and soon after slipped to the floor. Mari helped him unwind his plaid and let it fall in folds. Wearing only his leine, he knelt straddling her, taking care to favor his wounded leg. Mari took up the hem of his leine in her hands while Callum slid his palms up the length of her thighs. She drew deep breaths as she held onto his muscular shoulders, and clutched at his back while he touched her and fed her longing. The need to be one drove them together. And after their passion was spent they lay entwined, having gasped and whispered their passion until all that remained was to breathe in like cadence. In the midst of the hush that settled upon them their love bound them to one another. No matter what might befall them, that love would bide well and forever with them.

  * * *

  Mari tried daily to visit her brother, but no visitors were allowed. She left food for him each time, but suspected that he got very little of it. Callum’s clansmen were among those assigned to guard the inmates of Covenanter’s Prison. With Callum at home, they came often to visit. Mari soon made a habit of entrusting them with food and supplies to take back to her brother. She welcomed their visits, not only for what they could do for her brother, but for the way Callum’s spirits improved in their company—not only from the wee dram or two that they shared, but also for the laughter they gave him. Sometimes they brought news from home. Nellie had returned safely home to the Highlands, and all was well there. When they shared stories of other dragoons, Callum grew restless and eager to get back among them. Mari insisted he wait, for his leg was not healing. His pallid skin and the dark circles under his eyes confirmed Mari’s fears that it was getting worse. Even Callum could not argue the point, for he could not hide the pain that he suffered.