A Highlander’s Terror_A Medieval Scottish Romance Story

by Emilia Ferguson

  She turned to him with a small frown on her face. “I would tell you, but first let's find the miller. We're cold and tired, and we need to find somewhere safe before nightfall.”

  Rufus nodded. “You're right. Let's go.”

  They headed on through the forest, following the path.

  “Right. Buccleigh is that way,” Amabel said after a few moments. She pointed in the direction they'd just been. If they looked, they could see the dark, bulky shape of the fortress sticking out above the treeline, giving them an indication of direction. “So, we should go right.”

  She walked on boldly and Rufus followed her. Brogan walked behind them, strangely silent.

  He's thinking about his first real fight, Rufus thought knowingly. It was just possible he'd killed someone back there. He must be grappling with that, as Rufus knew one did. He decided it was better not to disturb him.

  “And it should be ahead now,” Amabel said, sounding hesitant.

  Rufus paused beside her as she stood, trying to get a sense of where they were. Then she nodded.

  “Yes. Carry on. Not too far now.”

  Rufus nodded and they carried on. He saw her smile.

  “Ah. Listen. Here we are. The burn.”

  They all heard the sound of water trickling, a sweet, gentle sound somewhere between a chuckle and song. It was dark in the forest now, and it was impossible to see the way in the faint light that filtered down between the trees.

  When they reached the mill, Amabel went ahead alone, and then, a moment or two later, beckoned to them.

  Rufus gave her a glance and she cleared her throat.

  “They said they'll hide us. We should go to the stables. It's warm.”

  Rufus nodded and the three of them went into the wooden building with its straw-covered, earthen floor. He walked to the back wall and slid down it, slowly. The other two sat down around him.

  “Could you tell us what our friends at the castle are playing at?” Rufus asked softly.

  Amabel nodded. “They wanted me to marry the duke of Astley now. By proxy. I think the man they thought you were was meant to be that envoy...” she trailed off, shaking her head wearily.

  Rufus felt his brows shoot up into his parting. “They wanted you to marry him now? Why, lass?”

  Amabel sighed. “The duke of Astley needs his inheritance now. He sees me as a means to procure it. He is in league with the French, I think – that would explain Lord Prolegnac, would it not? They agreed to work together to help him seize control of Buccleigh.”

  “And your grandfather?” Rufus asked slowly.

  Amabel bit her lip. “I don't wish to think about it. Grandfather is in grave danger. He left this afternoon with a retinue of the men. I suspect Prolegnac put them up to murdering him. Or some of them, anyhow.” She leaned forward, elbows on her lap, and covered her face with her hands.

  Brogan frowned. “Should we go back?”

  Amabel shook her head. “We cannot help that now. All we can do is stay here. Wait for the dawn.”

  “Yes,” Rufus whispered. “Yes, indeed we can.”

  Amabel flushed, an act that made Rufus clear his throat. Here they were, crouched in a barn together. The place was silent and straw-covered, and smelled of bran and the closeness of farm animals. Yet, here with his shoulder pressed to Amabel, he felt there was no greater paradise on earth. He turned and smiled into her eyes.

  “We should sleep,” he said gently.

  Amabel nodded. “We will be safe here. Yes. We should. We should sleep...” she closed her eyes, and Rufus felt pity for how completely exhausted and pale she seemed. He shrugged off his cloak.

  “We should share it,” he said gently. He looked at Brogan, who shrugged.

  “I can sleep in the hay, sir. Won't hurt me. Sometimes do it in the summer when it's nice to sleep out of doors.

  Rufus raised a brow and watched as Brogan curled up in the hay. He shrugged and unfurled his cloak from over his shoulders, spreading it over Amabel. She already seemed asleep. He shrugged and lay down beside her. His shoulder touching hers, his hand placed carefully on his own lap, though every animation in him screamed to lay a hand on her leg or back or wrist. He sat there against the wall, cloak pulled up over both of them and, before he knew what he was doing, he had fallen asleep beside her.

  The cloak was warm, the sound of her breathing soothing and quieting. They were together, and alone. Safe, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  RETURN HOME

  RETURN HOME

  Amabel heard birds singing, tender and soft, outside the windows. She opened her eyes. She was stiff and bruised. She was warm, too, though. She let her eyes accustom to the gloom.

  They were in a stable. She found herself looking up at a board ceiling with patterns of light showing through here and there. The sky beyond was clouded but not raining, and she was grateful the rain had held off that night as well. She heard a soft sound and turned to her left.

  Rufus was there. He was sitting making a small fire just at the entrance. She smiled and he looked up and their eyes met.

  “Amabel,” he whispered.

  “Rufus.”

  He let his lips slowly move across hers and they kissed. She sighed as the kiss ignited her body and she leaned back, letting his tongue explore her mouth slowly. She chuckled and he moved back.

  “Amabel,” he said gently.

  “What?” she asked. She was cold, bruised and tired. However, she was so, so happy.

  “I should make myself useful with the fire,” he said with a smile. “But I confess it's hard to concentrate on aught else. I am so, so happy.”

  Amabel felt her heart kindle with warmth. She smiled and nodded. “I am happy, too,” she whispered. “Can I help with the fire?”

  “No,” he said gently. “You rest, dear.”

  Amabel felt her blood warm with the gentle term of endearment. She smiled and their eyes met and held.

  “Thank you, dear.”

  He chuckled and returned to the fire. Amabel stretched and stood, looking out over the fields beyond. Her whole body was cramped and bruised, and her head ached. Yet she was happy. She looked around.

  “What shall we do?”

  Rufus sighed. “We should get back to Edinburgh,” he said softly. “I have no doubt that Lord Callum should be exposed for what he's done.”

  “Indeed,” Amabel said. A worrying thought occurred to her then. “My grandfather?” she whispered. “What of him?”

  Brogan frowned. She saw his face harden and she felt a deep despair. He thought her grandfather had been hurt, perhaps killed. A hand of ice moved over her heart.

  “We should tell the authorities as soon as we return,” he said softly. Amabel nodded. Then she recalled something else.

  “Lord Prolegnac. He...he said my father had been called away on urgent business, too. What if he...” she swallowed, not wanting to consider it. “What if he's been harmed in some way?” she was not even going to consider that he might be dead now.

  “We'll find him.” Rufus said firmly. “These two will answer for their wrong doings.”

  Amabel sighed and sat down on the straw. She felt drained. Another thought occurred to her. This one was more pleasant.

  “If Lord Callum is found out as the treacherous sort he is, then...then...”

  “Then you'll likely be freed from having to marry him,” Rufus said with an enormous grin. “I know.”

  They both grinned at each other. Amabel felt her heart fill with joy. She turned to Rufus and took his hand. He smiled into her eyes.

  “My dear,” he said gently. “I don't know if I...”

  “Oh, Rufus.”

  She leaned forward, he leaned forward, and they kissed. She sighed as his lips moved so softly on hers and felt the soft touch of his hand on her hair as gentle as a summer breeze. Then she stiffened as someone appeared in the doorway.

  She turned to see Brogan standing at the door, his hands bearing a bucket of water and a
loaf of stale bread and his eyes huge and shiny.

  Rufus turned and looked at him, a guilty expression on his face.

  “Well, if that doesn't beat archery contests,” he said with a grin.

  “Brogan,” Rufus said with a chuckle.

  “What, my lord?”

  “Come and have some breakfast,” he said with affectionate exasperation.

  Over breakfast they planned. They shared out the stale loaf and water, and Amabel chewed and swallowed, thinking the food the best she'd ever tasted. She was ravenous and exhausted after the trauma of the day before. She was also so happy.

  “...as soon as we return,” Rufus said, “we go to the judge.”

  Amabel frowned. “Should we not go to the court?” she asked. “My father's friends are there. They would be able to best assist us.”

  Rufus blinked and nodded. “You're right, milady,” he agreed.

  Amabel smiled. His hand moved and she moved hers to cover it. They sat still a while.

  The only sound in the empty stable was the distant song of the river and the sound of Brogan eating.

  The sun shone down through the cracks in the roof and Amabel shifted, letting it warm her. She swallowed the last of her segment of the loaf and stood.

  “Come on,” she said, stretching. “We should thank our friends the millers and then go.”

  Rufus nodded. “I'll come, too.”

  When Amabel thanked the Websters for their help, they insisted on arranging a lift to Edinburgh with the sacks of flour for the three. They agreed, heads bobbing eagerly, and set off in the back of the cart.

  Speeding through the spring countryside, leaning on a sack of flour and with the sky warm and cerulean above them, Amabel was sure she had never felt so happy in all her days. They were going home. Then she would be free to wed the man she loved.

  Father would never think to say no now. Not now that he knows how Rufus has saved us all.

  She looked at Rufus, focused on the clean, strong face and the soft brown hair where he sat, watching, keen-eyed and alert, as they headed off. He was so handsome. She found her mind drifting to details of what he might look like below that shirt and felt herself blush.

  Amabel! You are the daughter of a duke. Stop those disgraceful thoughts! However, she couldn't. She smiled, feeling excitement thrill through her. She was almost there now.

  “Whoa...” the miller called as they joined the main road. They rolled along and soon the walls of Edinburgh were moving into sight.

  When they reached the market, Brogan and Rufus jumped out, and Rufus handed Amabel down.

  “Thank you,” she said to Mr. Webster. “I will see to it that you and your wife receive a worthy reward. But for now, please accept this,” she said and reached into her gown to take out the last of her cash.

  Mr. Brewster frowned. “No, milady. I cannot take this...”

  “Please,” she said. “I insist. We would have perished without your help. With it, we will find happiness. Thank you more than I can say.”

  He blushed and stammered his thanks, but at length, he took it. He headed on his way.

  Amabel and Rufus continued on through the market. Brogan walked beside them. They headed to the castle.

  When they reached the gates, Amabel saw the sentry stare.

  “Sir Rufus and Lady Amabel,” she said before he had a chance to ask. “And Brogan,” she added, indicating the youth who stood on her left-hand side. We seek an audience with the lord Glendower. He will not refuse to see me,” she added confidently.

  “My lady.”

  They waited in the courtyard. They did not have to wait long.

  “My lady!” a guard said. He looked agitated. “Please. Come with me.”

  They followed him into the hall.

  They met with Lord Glendower and explained their case. When they finished, his face was very grave.

  “I know you speak the truth, my lady Amabel,” he said gravely, “for I know you are no liar. But have you proof?”

  Amabel nodded. She reached into her gown and produced the brooch they'd found.

  “We took this off one of the outlaws,” she explained.

  He nodded. His eyes went big. “I see,” he said gravely. “Well, that makes this case most convincing. Very convincing indeed.”

  He slipped the brooch into his pocket. “Now,” he added, continuing, “I will take this to the judge and we will take the steps that must be taken. You two have been brave. I will ensure your case receives the due attention. Now, go and rest.”

  Amabel sighed and nodded. She was almost dropping from exhaustion. She turned to Rufus, who smiled.

  “I'll see you soon,” he promised.

  “Me, too,” she whispered. She walked unsteadily into the hallway and up the stairs. It was so strange to be back.

  As she headed up the hallway to the upper floor, she could not help but consider that, for all the intense beauty of the place, a part of her had been happier in the forest with Rufus, or sleeping in the stable on the straw,

  She found her room and knocked.

  “Hello?” Her voice was the barest whisper, and she did not expect to be heard, but someone heard her and the door unlocked. A head peered out.

  “My lady?” Glenna stared at her.

  “Glenna,” Amabel said. She smiled at her companion. Her eyes were soft and she reached out with an expression of dismay as Amabel swayed where she stood.

  “My lady!” Glenna said again. “Come in. Oh, my poor lady! Come. Sit down. I'll have a bath drawn and you must change your clothes and wash your hair...oh! Look at you. My poor, poor dear...”

  As Glenna fussed around her, Amabel felt the soft warmth of the bed under her and she struggled to stay awake. The bath arrived faster than she would have thought possible, in a few moments, she was floating in scented steam, and her eyes were closing as she savored the delicious warmth.

  While she soaked, Glenna tidied away her dirty clothes and talked.

  “The whole palace was in a commotion when you disappeared, my lady,” she was saying. “Lord Glendower the chief among them. He would have had the troops out searching for you had it been within his power...” she smiled. “And Sir Rufus was missed, too. His steward was frantic.”

  Amabel smiled, so pleased to see her friend again.

  “What else happened?” she asked as the warm water slowly revived her body, washing the worst of the tension away.

  “Well, Lord Glendower sent out envoys to seek your father. When he had no word from Buccleigh, I believe he sent them further afield.”

  “Oh?” Amabel stood up. “Has he had news?” Her heart was thudding in her chest. Where was her father? Was he safe? Did he live still? What of her grandfather? “Oh, Glenna...”

  Glenna smiled. “I do not know what he found out,” she said gently. “But be assured your father is alive.”

  Amabel felt her heart soften. “Oh, Glenna!” she said, feeling her legs weaken with relief where they supported her. She would have slipped in the bath had Glenna not helped her up and out and into her night shift. Amabel wrapped her arms around her maid then and they clung together, her heart finally feeling safe and cared for in the woman's tender and caring presence.

  She slept for a while after that. When she next awoke it was evening. She was surprised by how well-rested she felt. Glenna was there almost at once – Amabel suspected she had sat by her bedside all day – and she helped her dress in the velvety blue gown that was her favorite.

  She ate in a small parlor that night, with Rufus beside her.

  “I could eat the whole stew by myself,” Amabel declared hungrily as she sat at the table, the rich scent of stew and bannocks in her nostrils.

  Rufus laughed. “Me, too, my lady.”

  Amabel smiled, her eyes sparkling. She reached across and his hand covered hers.

  “My lady,” he whispered.

  “Rufus...” she sighed as he leaned forward and gently kissed her. She could feel her body respond
ing, every part of her shivering at his gentle, expert touch.

  “Amabel,” he smiled.

  They ate, and she found herself looking up at him occasionally, to find his eye already on her. She flushed.

  Afterward, they walked out into the hallway and down to the courtyard. They stood under the vaulted arches and the blue night.

  “Amabel,” Rufus said gently. “I know I'm not at liberty to ask you this. Not yet, not until we know you are released from obligations...”

  Amabel felt her heart fill with light.

  “Yes, Rufus,” she said softly. “Yes, I will wed you. In my heart, we are already promised. We made that promise a long time ago. I feel as if I've always known that you were mine and I yours. I will wed you and I will love you always. Forever.”

  Rufus smiled at her. His lips touched hers and she looked into those kind brown eyes with their smile lines and their warmth. He kissed her.

  “Well, then. I have my answer. And you have my promise. I will love you now and always, my Amabel. Forever.”

  They kissed again and under the cool blue light of the stars, they embraced, and it seemed to Amabel that time seemed to stop. All she knew was the feeling of his chest pressed against her, the warmth of his arms round her and the feeling of his lips, kissing her.

  They were free to love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE TRUTH

  THE TRUTH

  Rufus woke on a pillowing softness and looked up at a ceiling that was gray stone and lost somewhere in the haze of morning sunlight over his head.

  He sat up, blinking.

  His mind was fogged with weary sleep and he had at first no idea where he was. The first thought that came to his mind was to wonder where Amabel was. He seemed to remember they were in the forest, hiding, and she should be close by somewhere.

  With the thought came memory. He recalled he was at the castle. He had arrived the day before and Amabel was where she should be, in her own chamber on the other side of the hallway. He recalled the previous evening and blushed.