Highland Mists: A Highland Romp

by Hildie McQueen

  The stories of his disappearance varied. Some believed he'd left from the grief of his brother's death after being attacked and other stories said he'd killed him. There was also a third story that because he was so handsome, he was taken and sold.

  Emma studied the bearded blacksmith, the stern man now sat with her uncle’s guards, his head bent low over a food trencher.

  Could it be? Was it possible Paden Fraser was indeed Stuart McLeod?

  As if sensing her regard, he lifted his gaze and met hers. A shudder went through her, not because she felt a sense of recognition, no, it was very different. In the pools of his dark brown eyes, she saw something closer to hatred.

  Paden rose early the next morning and immediately began packing his equipment so he could saddle his steed and return to town. If all went as planned he'd be home by the time everyone rose. He'd noticed the constant regard by one of the visiting laird's guards. Regardless of growing a beard, his McLeod features were hard to hide for long, if someone took a close look they’d see him for who he truly was.

  The night before at last meal, the same man had gone to the laird and spoken into his ear. Both had studied him for a long moment before the laird had dismissed the guard. To avoid more scrutiny, he'd slipped out before more happened.

  He yawned and stretched. Between being anxious about being recognized and the green eyes that haunted him all night, he’d not slept well at all.

  Lady Emma had kept a constant study of him and he wondered if perhaps she too now suspected his true identity. The fear of returning to face his past, to be recognized and discovered was so great he'd hated all of them at one point. It was not their fault of course that they came from Skye. Especially not the beautiful lass, but at the same time she was interested in him, and that put him in a difficult position.

  On the other hand, if he rebuffed Emma, she could lie to her father and bring punishment down on him. Laird’s daughters could sometimes be spoiled and impulsive.

  It was a hard situation to be in. If he was stupid enough to respond to her attempts at seduction and it was discovered, it was certain the laird would demand his head.

  The peace he’d found in Moriag was disappearing like the mists when the sun rose and he didn’t like it one bit. Paden groaned in annoyance and continued with the task at hand. The quicker he returned to the village, the better

  At remembering what awaited him back at the village with Hay, he grunted. There was the matter of the farmer's daughter. It was best to leave Moriag and travel further south to the lowlands. He would take what coins he’d been saving and begin anew.

  The morning was cool and Paden shivered as he washed his face from a water barrel and pulled his tunic on over his head. Next he donned his overcoat and smoothed it down past his thighs. After fastening a leather belt about his waist and slipping his sword into the scabbard, he prepared to mount.

  He was yanked back by the shoulder as he lifted his foot. The fast jerk back made him stumble backward and he swung blindly connecting a punch to a man's face. The man who he recognized as the visiting laird's guardsmen, who’d approached him the day before, punched back but missed when Paden shifted sideways.

  "What do ye want?" Paden moved back from the startled horse. "If ye are looking for a fight, ye will have one."

  The man spit out blood and then narrowed his eyes at Paden. "I know who ye truly are. I am willing to bet Laird McLeod will pay a handsome price for yer bonnie head."

  Although his gut clenched, he didn't react. Ensuring to keep a bland expression Paden let out a grunt. "I have no idea what ye speak of. But I do know ye will get out of my way before I am forced to draw my sword."

  The guard's eyes shifted. Everyone knew Stuart McLeod was a force to be reckoned with. Until his disappearance, he’d never been bested in battle. "Ye are the McLeod's son are ye not?"

  "I am not. I have been told I favor the McLeod's of Skye, but other than perhaps being a bastard son, I am not related."

  His explanation seemed to appease the guard who lowered his shoulders. "I am not sure whether to believe ye or not." After a long look, the man turned and walked away.

  Paden stood without moving. If he left the clan lands now, it would make them suspicious and they could send men after him. He was forced to remain in Moriag at least until the visitors left. After, he'd steal away from there, start a new life elsewhere. He'd saved enough coin and although it had taken much work and investment to purchase the stables from old man Angus, now he'd have to relinquish it all.

  Exhaustion formed at the fact he'd have to keep running, keep moving and never have a stable life. Although he was born a warrior, he was not a nomad, had always preferred the familiar, steadfastness of knowing where he belonged.

  Just as he was about to mount again, Dugan appeared and he let out a resigned sigh. "Aye Paden, what happened with the guard?"

  "A misunderstanding." He reached for his horse. "I am going home."

  "Ye cannot. The laird has asked that ye remain for tonight's festivities. And he wishes to speak to ye regarding the wild horse."

  Shoulders falling, he looked toward the gates. If only he’d risen earlier and left.

  “Very well.”

  Resigned Paden removed his horse's saddle and rounded the animal to put it away. He then went to where he'd spent the night and placed his belongings on the small cot. After that, he guided the horse to a corral releasing the animal to graze.

  Leaning against a post, Paden scanned the area where he worked and made a mental note to gather some needed items. If he was to remain, he’d keep busy.

  Just then two of the local guardsmen walked over. “Let us go break our fast Paden,” one of them frowned toward the man he’d argued with. “If ye need any help we are on yer side.”

  Resigned to the fact he would not escape continued scrutiny he may as well make the best of it. Paden walked along with the men as they discussed what chores were to be done that day. “I will be in the stables bring your swords for me to sharpen.”

  “Ay Paden,” Dugan caught up to him. “I will collect swords after the meal and bring them to ye.”

  “Very well,” Paden replied, glad to have work to keep him busy that day.

  He held up a hand. “I will follow you shortly.” He decided it was best to avoid the main entrance and instead go through the side door when his presence would be less noticeable.

  When he walked into the dim interior, movement made him look down a corridor.

  Lady Emma shoved away from someone and turned toward him, she looked about to cry.

  Instantly fury rushed through his veins and he clenched his jaw before stalking forward. Whoever hurt her would die. He pulled a dagger from his side strap and advanced. His eyes locked to her for a moment and then past to where whoever it was disappeared into the shadows.

  She didn't see him right away, not until he was upon her. Her shiny eyes met his. “Allow me past. Ye should turn around as well.”

  "Step aside. I will kill whoever accosted ye Lady Emma.” He looked past her to the now empty hallway. “Who was it? Tell me immediately.”

  When she threw herself against his chest and began to cry and her arms circled his waist, he had no choice but to hold her.

  Emma’s soft body against his felt so familiar, so perfect. Paden closed his eyes and inhaled the floral fragrance of her hair. For a moment nothing existed but her. The soft curves of her body so right against him even as she wept. It took all of Paden’s will power to not succumb to his body’s urgings for more. To pull her close and claim her mouth with his would be like a dream come true. Why she called to him and his body came alive at the sight of her was more than he needed to ponder at the moment.

  Gritting his teeth, Paden gathered as much strength as he could in considering that someone could happen upon them. “Lady Emma, ye must let me go.”

  If he never let her go, Emma would die a happy woman. Paden's hard muscular chest against her ear lifted and lowered with every hard
breath. His strong heartbeat resonated into her and Emma squeezed her eyes closed and clung to the rough fabric of his tunic.

  She wanted to memorize every thing about the moment. The feel of his rough tunic, the hardness of his chest, his breathing and the deepness of his voice was committed to memory. He smelled of outdoors and hay, even that made her want to cry harder.

  "What happens?" His deep voice echoed in her ears. "Tell me. Who accosted ye?"

  It was almost as if he actually cared. Alas, no, he was an honorable man. Any of her uncle’s guard would defend her honor. How to tell him that she'd been the one to accost a poor young guard who'd been too afraid of the consequences to rebuff her advances.

  All the memories had brought her to have dreams of being with Larkin. Too long had passed since she’d been with a man and she'd wanted to be touched by someone, to feel wanted and loved again.

  Connor, the guard she'd tried to seduce, had been in her family's service since they'd both been children. He was a handsome man now, perhaps a year or so younger than her.

  Just moments earlier, she'd followed him into the hallway and after cornering him she’d pulled his face down for a kiss. After a few moments, he'd been more than willing. It was then she'd realized the folly of her ways. It was unfair to both herself and Connor to begin any type of assignation. When she’d pushed away and apologized, Connor’s face had become bright red. Whether with anger or embarrassment she wasn’t sure. Now remorse assailed her along with the burning desire that had not left her body.

  If she fell in love again, it would have to be with someone her family arranged a marriage to. She’d not try to get close to anyone other than whomever she married.

  Now as she listened to Paden's heartbeat under her ear, a different concern formed. How to explain what had just happened in the corridor just as he appeared?

  "I was not accosted. It was a misunderstanding that has made me very upset. The guard Connor is not just in my family's employ. He is a childhood friend. And being that we are almost like siblings we can sometimes have disagreements."

  Emma was disappointed when he took her by the shoulders and stepped back. "If ye are no longer upset, then I must be on my way. Be well my lady." He turned and walked away before she could formulate a cohesive excuse to keep him longer.

  She stood for a long time considering the evening ahead. Why should she deny herself? It was silly to think she’d lose her heart to a man just because she desired him.

  Once again Paden's striking resemblance to Larkin and how familiar it felt to be in his arms bothered her. Perhaps she could dance with him that night and for a few moments think of how wonderful her life would be if Larkin had never died.

  Angus looked up just as the farmer arrived at the stables. The bearded man's narrowed eyes went from him to the two lads who assisted with the fashioning of a sword they made for a warrior.

  The man neared and looked down at the fire warming his hands.

  "Where is Fraser?"

  "He's gone to the McNeil keep. The laird requested his presence."

  "Are ye sure he is not hiding inside?" The man leaned and peered into the stables as if Paden was hiding with a horse. He then looked toward Paden’s cottage. “Are you lying for him?”

  Angus chuckled. "No I am not. Ye must consider that no man wishes to be married off against his will. I would think a lass would also not wish to marry a man who'd rather be anywhere else than with her."

  "Tis a matter of honor," Farmer Hay growled and backed away. "A man must be responsible for his actions."

  "Honor ye say?" Angus moved around the barrel toward the man. "What kind of a man allows his daughters to remain at the pub until the wee hours? A man who is out to get them married off is my guess."

  The lads coughed to cover up laughter. Both leaned forward to see what would transpire next.

  "Be glad yer are old, otherwise..." the farmer didn't finish the sentence as Angus' fist connected with his jaw sending the thick man to lie sprawled on the ground.

  The farmer didn't move for a few moments as the Angus and the lads walked to where he lay and peered down on him, the lads no longer attempting to hold back grins.

  Angus returned to the barrel. "Go on Hay, get away from here. I have no time for the likes of ye. Perhaps go to the pub and find that lass of yers another husband. Paden will nae be marrying her."

  The farmer sat up and shook his head, his dazed eyes connecting with Angus'. "Tis not over." He said unconvincingly. "I'll return."

  "See that ye do," Angus retorted. "I'll be here to give ye another lesson."

  When the farmer went away Angus returned to hammering the sword with force. "Old," he mumbled. "I have more muscle in one arm than he has in his entire body." He spat on the ground and turned to the lads. "Don't just stand there, pick up a rod and make something."

  Chapter Five

  Frivolity was in the air. The flutes and stringed instruments mixed into lively tunes intermingling in the air with the aroma of roasted pig and spices.

  Many were in attendance, the sounds of conversations flowed out into the courtyard where Paden and Dugan stood near a fire warming their hands. Even more so than usual, Dugan scowled. He watched the other guards file into the keep's interior for the evening festivities.

  "Something the matter?" Paden asked his friend following his line of vision. "Did one of the guardsmen anger ye today?"

  "Aye, one of the visiting McNeil's is running after Anna," he said referring to one of the maids. "Has not stopped trying to get her attention."

  “Which one is Anna?”

  “Lady Emma’s companion.”

  Despite the heaviness of his own situation, Paden couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend's circumstance. "Have ye declared yer feelings to the lass? If not, ye cannot blame her for what happens."

  "Tis not been the right time." Dugan kicked at a stone. "I do not know what to say."

  "Well I cannot be the one to lecture ye on what to say.” Paden considered his life back in Skye. “I have always been a man of few words meself. Tis hard to speak to women."

  Paden tried to come up with something to encourage Dugan. "Mayhaps just tell her ye wish go for a walk."

  "Walk?" Dugan's eager expression made Paden wonder what else he could offer.

  "Do ye really think asking her to walk will be sufficient? I've carried her baskets, and brought her sweet cakes warm from the kitchen."

  Paden nodded. "I am of a thought that women need to be spoken to in a clearer fashion. Seems they do not understand men as well as we do them."

  "I think ye are right friend." Dugan motioned toward the interior. "We should go inside. I'll search out Anna and see about this walking business."

  The great room was hot, the air thick with a combination of smells. Some of the aromas were pleasant, others not so much. Paden maneuvered past a group of men in hopes of finding a tankard of ale.

  Just then the minstrels began a new song began, and some people moved into the center to begin a dance. He hurried toward the back of the room to avoid being pulled into the melee, not wishing to be part of such thing as dancing. He'd danced before, a long time ago, but it something Paden didn't wish to ever revisit. Even if he tried, a one legged drunk man was a better dancer than he'd ever hoped to be. As far as Paden was concerned, the entire custom was ridiculous. He watched the dancers and had to admit enjoying watching women dance. It was the one time they allowed joy to take over. Twirling, the women’s were alight with happiness.

  "Paden Fraser." The visiting laird gaze met his. The man watched him with interest, his hand curled around a servant's arm. When noting that Paden looked to the spot, the laird released his hold and the lass rushed away with what seemed like relief.

  The man waited for him to near. "I hear good things about Ye."

  Paden looked to the pitcher of ale, his throat dry. "Thank ye laird."

  "Come with me, I wish to have a word." The laird turned away assuming he’d follow, and went tow
ard a side doorway.

  After placing his empty cup down, Paden followed the man into a room, which turned out to be a small study.

  "I hear good things about ye blacksmith," the laird repeated with narrowed eyes. "I also agree with my head guard. Yer resemblance to the McLeod's of Skye is quite strong."

  "Aye I have heard that as well Laird. I'll have to travel there one day to see for myself." Paden attempted to keep his tone light. “Could be I am related.”

  The laird squinted at him and lifted a lantern. "Come closer let me get a good look at ye."

  The man was nearly blind and so nearsighted he could not see much farther than his own nose. Yet with almost closed eyes he studied Paden before shaking his head. "Ye look nothing like the great Stuart McLeod. That guard must be daft to think so."

  Paden let out a breath hoping to be dismissed.

  "The McNeil holds ye in high regard. However, I can offer ye more. Horses, a cottage and some land of yer own. Would ye consider returning with us to Skye? I find myself in need of a good blacksmith and horse handler."

  "I apologize laird, but I am quite happy to remain here in Moriag." He gave a low bow and moved back to the door. "If that is all my laird."

  The laird chuckled, "I am not one to keep a young man from a dance. Very well, ye may go."

  Emma grew tired of discreetly searching the room for Paden. The blacksmith was nowhere to be found. He'd not come tonight. Just as well, one of them had to have a clear head and she certainly wasn’t. She certainly was having a horrible time keeping from looking for him.

  Two visiting lairds from adjoining lands were in attendance. Both had arrived with their wives. Laird Tarl Gordon was married to Emma’s cousin Allison. Along with the visiting families there were also several men who'd no doubt come in hopes of meeting her. Everyone wanted the chance to marry a Laird’s daughter.

  Allison nudged her. "Why the sour disposition? It seems most unlike ye."

  "I apologize. I haven't felt well today.” She scowled at a particular man who studied her like a prized horse. “All they do is gawk.”