The Reluctant Highlander

by Scott, Amanda

  “Faith, sir, the first thing you said when you learned that only Rory had come with me was that you were going to take a tawse to both of us!”

  “I did, aye, and you were so terrified by that threat that you said I could do so as soon as we were safe. And we are safe now, are we not?” he said, reaching for her bodice laces and letting his hands brush the tips of her breasts as he did.

  “Aye,” she said breathlessly. “Art sure you are not vexed?”

  “If I have a complaint, it’s about the way you said that I could beat you. You spoke to me then as if I were a simpleminded bairn.”

  She smiled then, tremulously. “You seemed so dreadfully weak and helpless that it frightened me. Did you mean it when you said you were in love with me?”

  “I did, I was, and I am, mo chridhe. I can no longer imagine life without you. I think I realized I’d fallen in love when I had to leave you here. I had never given much thought to those I left behind when I went off to serve as a warrior. But it was nearly all that I thought of for days on our journey to Inverlochy. I also meant it when I said that I’m not angry, but I will insist that you take more care when you walk out alone. Would you like me to ask where you were, exactly, when you met Rory and MacNab earlier today?”

  “I would rather not have to tell you,” she admitted.

  “Then I think you know how I would react if you were to venture there alone again.” He slid her kirtle off her shoulders, and she let it slip to the floor. “I was right about your shift,” he said then, whisking it off over her head.

  “I trust you are not in your courses,” he added.

  “Umm . . . no.”

  “Why do you hesitate? Do you fear they may begin tonight?”

  “No,” she said, this time visibly trying not to smile.

  “Fiona, is aught amiss with you?”

  “No, sir, but I am not certain how you will react to what I must tell you.”

  “Tell me, anyway.”

  “Very well,” she said. “I am nearly certain that we are going to have a bairn, because I have had most of the symptoms that Joanna had.”

  He gasped with shock, delight, and then anger. Catching hold of her by her upper arms, he peered into her face and said, “’Tis as well that you say you are not sure, because if you were sure, then what the devil were you thinking?”

  Having watched the play of emotions on his face, Fiona knew exactly what thoughts had flown through his mind. She said, “I was thinking that I had no intention of raising a son without his father, sir. That’s what I was thinking!”

  “But—”

  “Nae, now, you listen to me,” she said firmly. “When Rory told me that the Comyns likely held you on an island, I knew that unless they also housed their guards on that island, I might have a chance to set you free. I did not tell even Rory what I meant to do, though, so you must not blame him.”

  “I won’t,” he said grimly. “Go on.”

  Suppressing a smile and hoping that he did not discern as much, she said, “I told Rory only that I wanted to see the island. We left at dusk, so it was dark and cloudy when we arrived. But we could see stars reflected in the water, as well as the island, and I knew I could swim that far without the guards seeing me.”

  “What if there had been guards on the island?”

  “I expect that I’d have heard them before they saw me. In any event, I did search briefly before I lifted the bar from the door and set it aside. I could hear them talking across the water. The tone of their voices did not change.”

  “You did not see Hew and Dae in their boat,” he pointed out.

  “They did not see me, either.”

  He nodded, then picked her up in his arms and carried her to their bed. “I have one more question for you before we sleep,” he said.

  “I want you to make love to me, if that is what you would ask.”

  “I am glad to know that, because I do mean to make love to you until you squeal for mercy,” he said. “But the question I would ask has more to do with the answer you gave me earlier about why you thought Gilli Roy had made friends with Hew Comyn. Do you still feel the way you think he felt? Are you unhappy in the Highlands, trying to speak the Gaelic?”

  “No, I’m not, nor do I worry that people here dislike or misunderstand me. I thought that I had made that plain when I said that I believe all Scots are much the same wherever they live. Fin called Borderers ‘mad’ tonight, just as I once called all Highlanders ‘barbarians.’ Do you not think that makes us similar if not the same?”

  He chuckled. “I am not even going to try to answer that question. I do have one more for you, though.”

  “What is it?”

  “Might we hurt the bairn, if there is a bairn, if we make love?”

  “No, because James and Joanna . . . That is, I asked Cat, and she said no. And, before you ask, I have not told her or anyone else about the babe yet, but I am sure about him, Àdham, just as sure as I am that I love you more than you love me.”

  “Nae, you do not, and I know how to make you agree that I love you more.”

  He failed to make her agree to that, but he did make her squeal for mercy.

  Epilogue

  Aberdeenshire, May 1432

  A feather-soft rain was falling, creating a misty, gray view beyond the long, north-facing line of arched windows in the great hall of the Earl of Mar’s Kildrummy Castle.

  Despite the number of people still present after the wedding feast, the hall was quiet enough for Fiona, standing by one of those tall windows, to hear the crackling of the fire on the nearest hearth.

  The great hall’s length ran east to west with a fireplace at each end. Its north wall formed a portion of the castle’s north curtain wall, and as she gazed out upon that vast northern view, she felt the same awe that she had felt the first day of their visit, when she realized that that line of windows penetrated the curtain wall.

  The castle, as she had seen on their approach three days before, sat atop a motte, its entrance protected by a drawbridge that, when raised, provided a giant, impenetrable door between twin gatehouses.

  Àdham, Ormiston, and a number of the other men had disparaged the great hall’s wonder-inspiring windows but not nearly as roundly as they disparaged Mar’s chapel. The east end of that marvel projected right through the curtain wall, providing a fine view of the eastern countryside through three tall single-light casements with pointed arches that defined them as lancet windows.

  “I have always wondered what fool decided to weaken the curtain wall in such a fashion,” Fin had said to Àdham when the chapel projection piercing the wall came into view, clearly having no further foundation of its own.

  Intrigued, Fiona asked if they had ever asked Mar who had built the chapel.

  “He doesn’t know,” Fin said. “But Jamie would hang any noble of his who weakened his wall in such a way. That fellow was at least sensible enough to leave the original thickness of the wall below it, and the chapel itself is splendid.”

  Having now seen it, Fiona agreed. During the wedding, the skies had been clear except for drifting clouds that began to gather before the ceremony ended. She had been able to watch them gather, because the tall windows were behind the altar.

  The ceremony and feast were over, and her new stepmother now sat beside Mar, chatting with Catriona, Katy, and Clydia. Àdham talked with Ormiston and her older brother Davy near the fireplace at the other end of the hall.

  Catching Lady Rosalie’s eye, Fiona smiled and received a smile in return.

  Rosalie spoke briefly to Mar and began to gather her skirts, clearly, Fiona thought, meaning to join her by the window. Just as Rosalie stood and turned toward her, Mar’s steward entered and strode quickly to the earl.

  “What is it?” Mar asked him.

  “Beg pardon, m’lord,” the steward re
plied with a slight nod. “There be some trouble at the gate.”

  “I thought the bridge was up.”

  “Aye, it is, but the auld fool outside be raising such a ruckus, a-shouting and throwing big rocks at the gate, and he’s such a fierce auld bangster that the porter said I should let ye know.”

  Mar frowned. “Did this man tell the porter what he wants?”

  “Not what, sir, but who,” the porter said. “He be enquiring for one Alexander Stewart. The porter told him we ha’ nae such man here, but the fool be that stubborn and willna believe him. He just keeps a-heaving his rocks at the gate and insisting that his man must be inside our wall.”

  Fiona, watching them, saw Mar look toward the west fireplace. Following his gaze, she saw Àdham grinning widely.

  Chuckling, Mar said to his steward. “By the Rood, it must be our rescuer! Fetch him in at once. And, mind, ye treat the man as if he were his grace, the King.”

  “Aye, m’lord, straightaway,” the steward said. He turned on his heel and strode away more swiftly than he had entered.

  Mar stood and watched him go with a look of delighted anticipation.

  Realizing that her breasts were overfull, Fiona turned toward Lady Rosalie, now approaching her, and said, “If you would talk with me, madam, we must adjourn to my chamber. It is time to feed my bairn.”

  “But we cannot go yet,” Rosalie said with her mischievous grin. “Much as I love you, dearling, I must see this man who dares to order Mar’s people about, and I expect that your curiosity is also bursting. Do not you want to see him, too?”

  “I do, aye,” Fiona admitted. “Mayhap another few minutes, then.”

  The steward soon returned with a scrawny graybeard who looked about as if he could not believe his bright blue eyes at the splendor of that vast chamber.

  “My lord,” the steward said with formal stiffness, “this gentleman would speak with you.”

  Fiona saw that Àdham had moved to stand nearby.

  Mar, still standing, smiled and said, “Do you remember me, my friend?”

  The old man peered at Mar and then shifted his gaze to Àdham. “By the Rood,” he said gruffly, looking back at Mar. “Ye do clean up well, the pair o’ ye, and ye’ve fattened up well, too. But where be this Earl o’ Mar ye promised me?”

  “You are looking at him,” Mar said. Then, to the crowd at large, he added, “This gentleman saved Sir Àdham and me, when I was nigh to starving. But what trouble brings you to me, sir?” he asked his visitor.

  “Them thievin’ Islesmen ha’ wrecked my shack and turned me out,” the old man said. “They went wild for a time, layin’ waste tae all they saw. They’ve gone back tae their isles, but they threatened tae come back anon, so I thought . . .” He eyed Mar doubtfully.

  “Ye’ve come to the right place, my friend,” Mar assured him.

  Meeting Àdham’s gaze then, Fiona exclaimed, “Good sakes, Rosalie, I must meet that man and thank him!”

  Àdham intercepted them as they drew nearer. “’Tis feeding time for my heir, is it not?” he asked with a smile.

  “Aye, and past time,” Fiona said, leaning into him when he put an arm around her. “But if this man is your rescuer, I want to meet him.”

  “He is, and you will,” he said, hugging her. “Mar is a generous man, and his word is good. So, having practically ordered the man to come to Kildrummy if ever he was in need, he will do all that he can to aid him. If he does not introduce him individually to everyone here, I shall be amazed. But now, take me in to see my son, for when you have settled him, we will return to add our thanks to Mar’s.”

  When he opened the door to the chamber allotted to their little family, he walked past her and straight to the cradle. Gently removing its tiny occupant, he looked down into the bairn’s long-lashed, silver-gray eyes and smiled.

  Watching Àdham croon to their wee son while she unfastened her kirtle to feed him, Fiona realized that—Highlands, Lowlands, or Borders—she would feel at home wherever her two precious menfolk might be.

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed The Reluctant Highlander.

  Since several sources specified that James II was born in October, following the Battle of Inverlochy, I have used that as James’s reason not to lead the royal army again into the Highlands. However, James II’s birthday is officially October 30, 1430, and most experts now agree that Inverlochy was fought in September 1431.

  Dating events can be tricky, because clan histories often contain errors. For example, Clan Donald, by Donald J. MacDonald of Castleton, (1978, 2006), one of my favorite sources for the Lords of the Isles, dates the submission of Alexander to James as Easter Sunday, 1429.

  However, Alexander’s defeat at the Battle of Lochaber did not occur until June 23 of that year, so he could not have submitted to the King at Easter (March 27). The more likely date, since Alexander is said to have gone to Ireland and submitted a year or so later, is St. Augustine’s Day, 1430, as other sources suggest.

  Information for the city of Perth comes from many sources: Perth: the Fair City by David Graham-Campbell and John Donald (Perth, 1994), The Ancient Capital of Scotland—for the King’s tennis court at Blackfriars—by Samuel Cowan, J.P. (London, 1904), and The Ordnance Gazetteer of Scotland (Glasgow, 1884).

  Ambergris is a waxlike substance that originates in sperm whales and is a very expensive additive to perfumes such as Shalimar and Chanel N°5. Its use had begun by 1000 BC. The word itself comes from the Arabic anwar.

  Many of you will have recognized the croquembouche at the feast as the forerunner of profiteroles, my favorite dessert. Sweet cakes were rare in medieval Scotland (and England, come to that), but a French chef visiting medieval London supposedly saw a pyramid of fried rolls there and took the notion back to France.

  Playing cards first entered southern Europe in the fourteenth century, probably from Egypt, using suits of “cups, coins, swords, and polo sticks,” that still appear in traditional Latin decks, according to The Big Book of Tarot, by Hajo Banzhaf (Rome, 1994, pp. 16, 92). Wide use of playing cards in Europe dates with some certainty from 1377 onward, and most sources do say that Mar and some of the chiefs were playing cards before Inverlochy and were reluctant to stop.

  The hill Tom na Faire, southwest of Inverlochy Castle, blocked the royal army’s view of the approaching flotilla of galleys.

  Glen Tarbet, between Loch Sunart and Loch Linnhe, does exist and could well be the route that Donal Balloch took to ambush Mar’s army at Inverlochy.

  Some of you will have recognized characters from my Scottish Knights series: Highland Master, Highland Hero, and Highland Lover, as well as Fiona, from Devil’s Moon. If not, those books are all still available in stores and online.

  My sources for clans Chattan and Cameron, and the Earl of Mar, include The Confederation of Clan Chattan, Its Kith and Kin by Charles Fraser-Mackintosh of Drummond (Glasgow, 1898); The House and Clan of Mackintosh and of the Clan Chattan by Alexander Mackintosh Shaw (Moy Hall, n.d); and many others.

  The incidents involving Àdham, Mar, and the strangers (as well as details about both battles) appeared in The Clan Donald by Reverend A. MacDonald (Inverness, 1881); The House and Clan of Mackintosh; and “The History of the MacDonalds and the Lords of the Isles,” by Alexander Mackenzie, The Celtic Magazine (v. 5, April 1880).

  Information about the battles of Lochaber and Inverlochy comes from those sources, as well. The Earl of Mar wrote the Gaelic couplet at the beginning of this book in honor of the ladies who gave him the barley gruel made in his shoe.

  Malcolm, tenth Chief of Clan Mackintosh and Captain of Clan Chattan, also known as “the Mackintosh,” fought at the Battle of Harlaw in 1411 and at both Lochaber and Inverlochy. He died in 1457, when he must have been at least in his late eighties or nineties. A number of the Mackintosh chiefs were notably long-lived.

  I
did take certain liberties with the Earl of Caithness. His birth date is unknown. However, his father, Walter Stewart, Earl of Atholl, the youngest son of Robert II, King of Scots, was born in 1360, so Caithness likely was born between 1380 and 1400. I chose to make him young enough to be a friend of Sir Àdham and Fiona. He did die at Inverlochy, and he was a strong supporter of Mar and James I.

  I must extend special thanks to Bruce E. MacNab for the generous donations he made in 2015 and 2016 to the St. Andrews Society of Sacramento, which allowed him to become a squire in Reluctant Highlander, and for his extreme patience with the delays due to my husband’s illness.

  I also extend a special thanks to Bridgett and Bruce Locken for their 2016 donation to the St. Andrews Society of Sacramento. You’ll see them again as continuing characters in my next book, The Kissing Stone.

  I also extend my abject apologies to Corinne and Jim Schrader for misspelling their last name in my author letter in Devil’s Moon.

  As always, I’d like to thank my long-suffering agents, Lucy Childs and Aaron Priest, as well as my amazing and wonderful editor, Maggie Crawford; master copyeditor, Sean Devlin; senior production editor, Lauren Chomiuk; editorial assistant, Annie Locke; and everyone else at Open Road Integrated Media who contributed to this book.

  I also extend a special thanks to all of you, my readers, who have so strongly supported my books over the years. I think of you every day, and I love hearing from you. I could not have accomplished what I have without you.

  If you enjoyed The Reluctant Highlander, please look for the story of Katy MacFinlagh and the fate of Raitt Castle in The Kissing Stone, coming soon to your favorite bookstore and online retailer.

  Meantime, Suas Alba!

  Amanda Scott

  www.amandascottauthor.com

  www.facebook.com/amandascottauthor

  www.openroadmedia.com/amanda-scott

  About the Author

  A fourth-generation Californian of Scottish descent, Amanda Scott is the author of more than sixty romantic novels, many of which appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. Her Scottish heritage and love of history (she received undergraduate and graduate degrees in history at Mills College and California State University, San Jose, respectively) inspired her to write historical fiction. Credited by Library Journal with starting the Scottish romance subgenre, Scott has also won acclaim for her sparkling Regency romances. She is the recipient of the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award (for Lord Abberley’s Nemesis, 1986) and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. She lives in central California with her husband and a cat named Willy Magee.