Highlander’s Forbidden Desire: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Ah, Finlay, so, I find the castle in chaos and nae even a watch upon the walls to welcome me,” the man said.

  “Forgive me, uncle, there has been much to see to,” Finlay replied, and Elaine looked in amazement, for there had been no mention of a brother to the Laird.

  The man was younger than he, though now she looked, she could see something of the old Laird in his face. He was tall and thin, younger than the Laird and clean-shaven, but his eyes were the same, as were his mannerisms. There was no doubting their blood relation, but he seemed somewhat aloof and kept glancing around him with interest as though seeking out further means to criticize Finlay, who seemed somewhat in awe of his uncle’s presence.

  “And that is why I have come. Nae only to mourn the passin’ of my dear brother but to see to it that ye daenae make a fool of yerself, Finlay,” his uncle said, now catching Elaine’s eye and smiling.

  “Forgive me, uncle, this is Elaine McRob, daughter of Bethlick McRob, Laird of the McRobs and master of Carrick castle. The woman who would have been yer sister n law,” Finlay said, as Elaine stepped forward.

  “Allan MacCallum, Laird of nothin’ except my brother’s shadow,” the man said, bowing his head slightly to Elaine and looking her up and down with a smile which was not entirely pleasant.

  “Yer brother was a good and noble man. I considered it an honor to be betrothed to him,” Elaine replied, and Finlay’s uncle laughed.

  “My brother could have been yer grandfather, lass. There is nay honor in marryin’ such a man, duty perhaps, but nay honor. Ye have had a lucky escape,” he replied, and Elaine was shocked by his words.

  “Peace, uncle. My father lies in his hall, and ye speak like that,” Finlay replied.

  “He is my brother. I shall speak as I wish of him,” Allan replied, casting another loathsome glance at Elaine, who by now had become uncomfortable in his presence.

  It was something in the way he looked at her, as though he were thinking unpleasant thoughts, a look of desire in his eyes. She shivered, turning away, and catching Finlay’s eye as she did so.

  “And will ye also go to pay yer respects to him now? We have kept vigil these days past, and tomorrow he shall be buried. I trust ye will remain here for some time?” Finlay asked, and his uncle nodded.

  “Aye, I shall dae so and then, nephew, ye and I shall have a talk about yer future. This clan could so easily fall in these dark days. There is much trouble abroad. They say that the king is close to losin’ his throne if nae his head, and that would be a dark day for us all,” Finlay’s uncle replied.

  “My father had already done much to work for peace in Argyll, uncle. The McRobs are our allies, and in the past few days, even the MacDonalds have made ends to sue for peace. We were plannin’ our terms when this tragedy struck. But now, we should return to our vigil. Yer men may be housed in the barracks and the horses stabled,” Finlay said, and with that, he disappeared back inside the castle, leaving Elaine to face Allan alone.

  “So, now I meet the woman my brother chose to be his wife. He was a foolish old man with idle fancies to his name,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I am nay idle fancy,” Elaine replied, growing more and more repulsed by this unpleasant man with every word he uttered.

  “Nay? But ye were quick to take the chance of his bed,” he snarled.

  “I daenae have to answer to ye. Tis’ Finlay, who is Laird of the MacCallums, and he has welcomed me here to stay,” Elaine said, astonished by the force of his words.

  “Finlay is young and wet behind the ears. He knows nothin’ of what has befallen him, nor of the dangers that lurk on every side,” Allan replied.

  “And I suppose it will be ye that shows him those dangers and seeks to protect him?” Elaine asked, and Finlay’s uncle smirked, his tongue flitting over his lips as he spoke.

  “We shall see; he has much to learn,” he said.

  “Then it seems that danger lurks within, as well as from without,” Elaine replied, turning on her heels and making her way up the steps.

  “And what makes ye say that, Elaine? I only want to help my nephew, but ye would wouldnae wish to make an enemy of me now, would ye, Elaine?” he said, but Elaine had no wish for him as a friend either, given the unpleasant nature of their introduction.

  Instead, she ignored him and made her way inside, pausing at the door of the great hall to find Finlay returned to his silent vigil at his father’s side. Could he be strong enough to resist his uncle? Or had that unpleasant man come to pull strings in Finlay’s new and uncharted destiny?

  “Whatever is wrong, mistress?” Carys asked as Elaine entered their chambers a few moments later.

  “It seems that the devil is in our midst, Carys, and he has the startling look of a MacCallum,” Elaine replied, and she began to tell her faithful friend of her encounter in the courtyard.

  Elaine arose with the dawn the next morning, having slept little for thinking of the sad day, which now lay ahead. Today they would bury the Laird, the man she had come to Kilchurn to marry and with whom she had never had the chance to find happiness. It would be a sad and tragic day, not least for Finlay, whom she mourned too for the burden of responsibility now laid upon him.

  It was not long before Carys entered Elaine’s chambers, for she too had been unable to sleep, haunted by thoughts of the day to come. The two women began slowly to ready themselves, wearing their now accustomed black dresses, the signs of their mourning.

  The funeral was to take place at noon and the castle with filled with expectant clansmen ready to play their part in the mourning. Elaine watched from her chamber windows as the bier upon which the Laird had lain in state in the great hall was carried into the courtyard in readiness for the solemn procession.

  A tear rolled down her cheek as she watched, bushed away with a handkerchief. She felt utterly helpless, as though she were observing events as a stranger. Detached from the grief which was taking place around her. She mourned the Laird, and yet she barely knew him, bound to him not by memory but by expectation.

  “I cannae sit here a moment longer,” Elaine said, as noon approached.

  They had waited for much of the morning, a servant bringing a simple meal of porridge and bread and informing them that preparations for the funeral were now complete.

  “Then let us make our way to the great hall, mistress. I should like to see this uncle who has appeared in our midst. I told ye there was to be an adder in the grass,” Carys said.

  “Tis’ nae clear what his motives are of yet,” Elaine replied.

  “But why did it take him three days to come here? The Laird is … was his brother. Surely, he would wish to mourn him on the day he heard of this tragedy. From what ye have told me, he seems more interested in Finlay and in securin’ his own power over him,” Carys said, tutting and shaking her head.

  “Perhaps that much is true. I didnae like him, I shall tell ye that much,” Elaine replied.

  “Them I shall nae like him either, mistress,” Carys replied, and she slipped her arm into that of Elaine.

  “Faithful friend, how glad I am that ye are here alongside me. Today is to be a tragic day,” Elaine said, sighing and shaking her head.

  “But ye are strong, mistress. We have faced much together, and always ye are strong,” Carys said, opening the door and ushering Elaine out into the passageway.

  Downstairs, the castle was filled with clansmen, and there was an atmosphere of expectation in the air. They found no sign of Finlay in the great hall, but the castle bell had begun to toll the noon hour, and they made their way out into the courtyard where it seemed now the whole clan had gathered for the funeral rites of their beloved Laird.

  Elaine could see Finlay standing by his father’s bier. He was dressed in a green tunic with a clasp at the neck, a black cloak, and a hat pulled low down over his eyes. A sword hung at his side, and he was flanked by Dougal and his uncle Allan, who glanced at Elaine with a sneer.

  The clansmen made way for h
er and Carys to pass, and they came to stand at the edge of the crowd, just as the minister stepped forward to begin the prayers. He was dressed in white bands and a preaching gown, a wig pulled roughly over his hair and a look of unease on his face. The whole crowd seemed uneasy, a tenseness hanging in the air. Elaine caught Finlay’s eye, offering what she hoped was a reassuring look.

  “But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine,” the minister began, opening his arms in prayer.

  “Amen,” came the response from the gathered crowd.

  “Dear friends in Christ, we gather to bid farewell to our dear Laird, to pray together and ask God to bless us in our grief. Safe in the knowledge that he holds Hamish MacCallum in hand and shall give him the vision of that glorious end to which we all hope and pray,” the minister continued.

  “Look at the smirk on that man’s face,” Carys whispered, pointing towards Finlay’s uncle, who seemed in no sense to be joining the others in their mourning.

  “He has nay tears for his brother, of that I am certain,” Elaine whispered back.

  “And so, in solemn procession, let us proceed to the hall once his and then to his place of rest. Let us ask God to bless us and let his face shine upon us, and be gracious to us. We brought nothing into this world, and tis’ certain we can carry nothing out. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taketh away, blessed be the Name of the Lord,” the minister continued.

  Several of the clansmen now came forward, ready to bear the Laird’s bier upon their shoulder, but Finlay now stepped forward, raising his hands and causing the minister to look up in surprise.

  “I would speak a moment,” he said, and the minister nodded.

  “As ye wish, Laird,” he replied.

  “Today, we gather to mourn the passin’ of a truly great man. My father was Laird of this clan these many years past, and in that time, he did much to improve the lives of ye all, to safeguard ye and protect ye. He was a father to so many, nae least to me. I owe him much, and yet I know I have much to learn if I am to serve ye as he did,” Finlay said, a murmur going up around the clansmen.

  “He speaks well for one so young,” Carys whispered.

  “He is as young as I, Carys, and he has had much to grow into these days past,” Elaine replied.

  “I shall always seek to honor my father’s memory and to live up to all that is expected of me. My duty is to serve this clan as yer Laird and to live in the legacy he left behind. I am a MacCallum and ever proud of that,” Finlay said, and he drew his sword, approaching his father’s side and kneeling.

  “Hail Hamish MacCallum, proud forefather of blessed memory, and hail Finlay MacCallum, Laird, and master of us all,” one of the clansmen shouted, as a cheer went up all around the courtyard.

  Elaine watched as Finlay’s uncle scowled, catching his eye for just a moment, as he grimaced at her. She turned her face away and looked instead at the body of the Laird, now born upon the shoulders of the clansmen. The procession assembled, banners unfurled, and fluttering in the breeze.

  They made their way up the steps of the castle and into the great hall. Torches had been lit there, and prayers were said for their protection and deliverance from the evils which beset them before the procession made its way back outside and towards the grave. Elaine followed closely behind, offering up her own prayers for their safe deliverance and praying too for Finlay in the unenviable task which lay before him.

  She could not help but worry as to the designs of Allan MacCallum upon Finlay and of what lay ahead. Would he try to seize power or manipulate Finlay from behind, controlling him and making him his puppet? Elaine knew that her duty to the Laird was clear; she must see to it that Finlay was not left alone, and despite her doubts, she vowed to remain at Kilchurn for just as long as she could.

  “Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of them that depart hence in the Lord, and in whom the souls of them that be elected, after they be delivered from the burden of the flesh, be in joy and felicity: We give thee hearty thanks for that it hath pleased thee to deliver Hamish, our brother, our dear Laird out of the miseries of this sinful world,” the minister said, as they came at last to the open grave close to the kirk where the burial was to take place.

  “Be strong, mistress,” Carys urged, squeezing Elaine’s hand as she brushed a tear from her eye.

  “Oh, Carys, I worry for the future,” Elaine whispered, as the Laird’s body was lowered into the ground.

  The clansmen now began to move forward, throwing handfuls of dirt into the grave and muttering their prayers over the Laird’s body. Last to go was Finlay himself, and he stood a moment at the graveside, his head bowed.

  Elaine stepped forward, picking up a handful of dirt from the ground and throwing it down onto the Laird’s body below, which had been placed into a simple wooden coffin, the lid still open. She knew that she was witnessing the passing of a great man, a moment in the history of this clan, which none would soon forget.

  Finlay turned to look at her, a tear in his eyes. She knew he would not wish for her to see weakness there, a sign that he was far from the bravado of the words he had earlier uttered. She nodded to him, throwing down the dirt into the grave as he did the same.

  “Farewell,” she whispered, stepping back as Finlay bowed his head and turned.

  The other clansmen had begun to disperse now, the minister offering his final prayers and a blessing upon them all. The funeral rites were concluded, but it seemed only now that the truth of what was to pass was becoming clearer. The Laird was buried, and Finlay now took his place as Laird. There was no one else, and his task was evident and clear.

  “Stay a moment,” he said, catching Elaine’s arm, as his uncle looked on from the graveside.

  “There is work to do now, Finlay,” his uncle said, but Finlay shook his head.

  “My father is nae yet cold in the ground. This day is for mournin’, and that is to be made know to all,” he said, as he and Elaine walked back towards the castle gates.

  “Yer uncle is a forceful man, Finlay,” Elaine said, and Finlay nodded.

  “I know that well enough. Ever since I was a child, he has been so. I remember it well; he was always here. His presence haunted my father. He was jealous of him, ye see; the elder brother, the one who had inherited the title. My uncle has nothin’ that is his own. I knew this day would come. I dreaded it,” Finlay said.

  “Come, let us walk a while by the lochside,” Elaine said, and Finlay nodded.

  “I wish to see the place,” he said, turning to her, his eyes wide and fearful.

  “Where he died?” she asked, and he nodded.

  “I have kept pushin’ the thought away. But if I daenae confront it, then it shall consume me. Show me where my father fell, tis’ like a battleground for me, I must see it,” he said, walking towards the path leading through the trees towards the crofts.

  Elaine followed him, anxious that he should not be alone. He was upset, slashing his sword against the brambles and bushes, which grew along the path, muttering to himself as they went.

  “Tis’ only right that ye be upset on this day, Finlay. We have just buried yer father; there is a great responsibility upon ye,” she said, catching up with him and taking hold of his arm.

  “And my uncle does nae help matters. He expects me to dae my duty, to be Laird before I have even mourned my father,” Finlay cried.

  “Or mourned yerself,” Elaine said.

  Finlay paused, turning to her with a curious expression on his face.

  “What dae ye mean?” he asked.

  “Well, ye have lost who ye were. Ye are someone different now. Ye are Laird, and surely ye must mourn that past life too, so suddenly snatched away from ye,” Elaine replied, as Finlay nodded sadly.

  “Ye are perceptive, Elaine. Aye, ye are right. My heart longs for what once was. Though tis’ foolish for I spent so long wonderin’ what this day would b
e like. Trapped between the past and the future,” he said, shaking his head.

  “We are all trapped like that, the moment is all we have, but if we spend too long in the past or the future, then we shall never be happy,” Elaine replied.

  “I have never wanted to be Laird, nae truly,” he said, as they walked on along the path by the loch.

  The day was sunny now, the waters calm and inviting. It had been a cruel fate that the weather had so whipped up the loch into a frenzy on that tragic day, for on such a one as this, the children would easily have been rescued from the waters and the Laird acclaimed a hero in life rather than death.