Highlander’s Unexpected Love: A Medieval Scottish Historical Highland Romance Book

by Adams, Alisa

  After school the next day she pleaded a headache. Sadie clucked around offering willow bark tea and sympathy, but Jessica was not fooled. She accompanied Heather upstairs to her bedroom, where Heather took from her wardrobe some spare blankets and a pillow to give away to a poor family.

  "Before I take you to my trysting-place," she whispered, "I want your solemn promise that you will tell no-one."

  "Of course, I won't," Jessica replied, "but now I can cover for you if you need me to. Heather, you don't have to show me at all if you don't want to."

  Heather looked into Jessica's clear green eyes. "I trust you," she said fondly, smiling.

  When they went downstairs to the little suite of rooms Heather held her lantern up to look at the big room she was standing in. It was dusty, but still in good repair. To her surprise, there were still pieces of furniture there, but the chairs were too old and worn to be used. She laid the blankets and cushions on the wooden floor and looked up at the ornate ceiling.

  "With a bit of touching up it will be perfect," she said happily.

  Jessica looked at Heather's glowing face. "Heather," she said gravely, "you know that this cannot last."

  Heather sighed. "I know," she replied, "I know I am living in a dream world, but I just need to know him a bit better, Jessica. We will not become lovers—all we want to do is be close when we can."

  Jessica nodded. "You will need a messenger," she said mischievously.

  "Do you have anyone in mind?" Heather enquired in the same tone.

  Jessica sighed. "I suppose it will have to be me," she said resignedly, "shall I go and see him now?"

  "Will you? Please?"

  Heather's eagerness is quite pathetic, Jessica thought.

  "I will, but Heather, I hope you know what you're doing." Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.

  While she was gone, Heather dusted the room as best she could with a strip of old tablecloth, then sat down to wait. She felt more nervous than she ever had been in her entire life. When she heard the door to the corridor being opened then locked again she stood up.

  Bruce looked clean, tidy, and to Heather's eyes quite mesmerizingly gorgeous. She did nothing but stare at him for a moment, her lips parted. His light gray eyes were shining in the lamplight and on the shiny blue-black surface of his hair, and he was wearing the kilt of his own family, which she suspected that he kept for special occasions. Was this a special occasion? She supposed it must be.

  A woman like Heather, he thought, was one of the reasons why men loved being men. Her hair was not pinned up for once but flowed in a glorious river over her shoulders and down her back in a torrent of auburn waves. Her low-cut dress showed a tantalizing glimpse of her creamy white breasts, and she was gazing at him with her full soft lips slightly open as if waiting for a kiss. He did not keep her waiting long.

  He crossed the room in three strides and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her so close to him that she gasped in surprise. She returned the embrace, winding her arms around his neck. His mouth was greedy and demanding, his tongue playing with hers until she was weak at the knees with pleasure. Bruce loved the feel of her pliant woman's body against his own, her arms around his neck pressing his face to hers.

  When she began to moan softly he almost gave in to the desire to make her his, sure that he would have met with no resistance. But his willpower overcame his need, and he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on hers. Both of them stood recovering their breath for a moment then Heather made a huge sigh.

  "I have been dreaming about that since I found this place," she whispered. Bruce looked around, taking in the shabby furniture and cobwebs hanging from the high ceilings. The curtains in front of the shuttered windows were moth-eaten, but to him, it looked like a palace. He saw the cozy corner she had made for them with the lantern casting its warm glow on it. Somehow, Jessica had managed to smuggle a straw mattress in for them and with the blanket and pillows, it looked warm and welcoming.

  "Why did ye tell Jessica aboot us?" he asked, accepting the small glass of whiskey she poured for him.

  "I didn't," she replied, "she guessed, apparently our faces are very transparent!"

  He stood frowning thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled at her. "Ye think ye can trust her?"

  "I do," she answered, kissing him again, softly and tenderly. She led him to the mattress and lay down beside him, putting her head on his chest. "Tell me about Bridie," she whispered.

  "Whit de ye want tae knaw?" he asked.

  "How did you meet?"

  "At a ceilidh." He laughed. "She wisnae a very good dancer an' she bumped intae me. She wis so wee I nearly knocked her doon, but I caught her an' we looked intae each ithers' eyes. It was love at first sight, like in a fairy story."

  "Not like us, then." Heather laughed. "It took us a long time to even like each other!"

  "I never dreamed we wid ever be daein' this!" he said incredulously, "you an' me."

  Heather rubbed her fingertips up and down his cheek for a moment. He gave her a puzzled look.

  "Why are ye daein' that, milady?"

  "I like the way your skin feels," she whispered, "but next time, please don't shave."

  "My face will feel like a hoof file," he pointed out, laughing.

  Heather leaned on one elbow to look down at him. "That is the way I like it," she said firmly.

  "Whit aboot whit I like?" he asked mischievously, "have I no say in the matter?"

  "No."

  "But it's my face!" he protested.

  She kissed him. "And a very nice face it is too," she observed, "but I like how it feels when it's rough."

  "You are a very strange lady," he laughed, pulling her down for another kiss. He rolled her onto her back and half-leaned over her, interlacing his fingers with hers.

  She wished they could go further. She wished he was a Laird or she was a commoner. She wished for so many things like a home of their own, more time together, and most of all his child. The thought startled her because she had always vacillated about children before, especially with Kenneth. But now, being at the school, and now, loving Bruce the way she did, things had changed.

  "You are so bonny," he whispered, and his eyes as he looked at her were full of love. He would not utter the words, though. Not to this woman.

  "So are you," Heather murmured, "and I would love to have your baby."

  She was aghast at the speed at which he sprang back from her.

  "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, Bruce!" she cried, "I was just daydreaming."

  Bruce gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Naw, Heather," he said heavily, "it's me who should be sorry. Bridie was carryin' oor bairn when she died and every time I hear aboot babies I think o' that poor wee thing dyin'. I always wonder if it knew somehow." He tailed off, his eyes full of tears. "I wish I could have held it just ance."

  It was strange, Heather thought, that when a baby died no-one thought of the father. Everyone pitied the mother who had given so much to bring it into the world, but nobody considered the feelings of the father's bruised heart at all.

  "Come here," she gathered him back into her arms and he laid his head on her breast, closing his eyes.

  "What can I do?" She asked tenderly, "what can I do to make it better?"

  He shook his head. "Naethin, lass," he whispered, "jist be here. That's enough for noo."

  Then they held each other in a warm, silent embrace. There was no more talking and no more passionate kissing. They were happy just to lie together in contented silence.

  All too soon it was time for Bruce to go.

  "Will you be warm enough tonight?" she asked anxiously, "there is a cold wind."

  "I will be fine," he assured her, "I am a strong, hard man, am I not?"

  "Oh, definitely," she breathed, "definitely you are."

  "I will see ye soon, my sweetheart," he whispered and kissed her one more time before disappearing into the darkness.

  Not soon enough, my darling, she
thought, never soon enough!

  22

  James and Jessica

  There was a new school being built right next to the church, and James was in the thick of the building work. The only time he stopped was when his father dragged him around to meet the farmers. As much as he loved to meet them he preferred the rough and ready camaraderie of the laborers. Despite himself, he was being drawn into the lives of ordinary people, and he was loving it.

  The work would still take a few more months, but James resolved to work on it every minute he could. He still wanted to learn the blacksmith's trade, but that could wait. His whiskey consumption had been restricted to one dram a day, and he found that he did not miss it at all. He could not remember the last time he had played cards with his former friends, who, having realized that he had donned the garb of a working-class man, had all deserted him. The only card games he played now were with the workers in the few break times that they could snatch.

  James was content because, like his sister, he trod his own path. Even the fact that there was no woman in his life did not worry him. He was young, in the prime of his life, and there was plenty of time, but he had to admit that the young teacher had caught his eye. She has blossomed since she came to Invergar, he thought and he had noticed when he was at church that some of the young bloods in the district had noticed her too. In fact, the minister's son, Dougie, could hardly keep his eyes off her!

  James noticed that his eyes followed her whenever he saw her at church, although as yet he had not plucked up the courage to speak to her. James felt a bit sorry for him. Of course, a schoolteacher could not marry a Laird, could she? But James was not thinking of settling down anyway. Now all he wanted was to be a good enough builder to get the school finished. He laughed to himself. Could this really be James McVey, heir to a Lairdship, mixing cement and sticking stones together? He could hardly believe it!

  At lunchtime they all sat down to the same food, sometimes bannocks with cheese, sometimes porridge, always plenty of milk and meat if it was available. James tried to make sure it was available as much as he could, but the laborers all liked him because he was one of them now.

  "Ane o' these days ye're gaunnae get merrit," big Archie prophesied, "an' ye willnae want tae knaw us ony mair."

  "If my wife doesn't like you I will not marry her," James promised.

  There was a general chorus of laughter. James McVey was going to be a strange kind of Laird. But then, they had always been a strange lot.

  Jessica spent a lot of time with Heather, but she liked her solitary time, which she spent reading, writing letters and polishing up her Latin, a dead language which served to purpose except to help Jessica improve her mind.

  She often preferred to eat her evening meals alone in her room, rather than intruding on the family time. Heather had assured her that this was not necessary, but Jessica preferred it that way. James would have been delighted if Jessica had presented herself at the table every night.

  "You know," he observed to Heather one night after they had left the dinner table, "I would love to spend a lot of time gazing into those green eyes," he sighed, "but I haven't got the right to choose my own bride. Who has Father got in mind for me? Which empty-headed heiress have they lined up now?" He sighed. "Heather, sometimes I wish I were an ordinary man like those I work with. They don't have wives chosen for them. They just marry who they like, or even love."

  Heather looked up from her book. "I didn't," she pointed out, "and every day that goes by I become more and more thankful for the lucky escape I had."

  "They'll marry you off to someone else, sister," he warned, "but this time it may be worse."

  "I will decide who I marry!" Heather snapped.

  They were sitting in a small parlor adjacent to the dining room and James stood up as Jessica came in. She was wearing a pale apple green dress which brought out the color of her eyes, and she looked girlishly pretty. She smiled at James.

  "Good evening, sir," she went over to Heather and whispered something in her ear. Heather smiled and nodded, then the two ladies excused themselves and left together.

  When Jessica came back in to pour herself a glass of sherry, James was standing looking out of the window drinking his one dram of whiskey for the day. He turned around as she walked in, and gave her a pleasant smile. She curtsied and poured her wine, then went to walk out, but James forestalled her.

  "May I call you Jessica?" he asked, smiling at her.

  "Of course, sir," she said amicably.

  "And you may call me James," he smiled.

  "No, I could not do that, sir," she replied firmly, "you are a Laird-to-be and I am a schoolteacher. I cannot do that."

  "Then as a Laird-to-be who lives in this castle," James replied, "I am humbly asking you to."

  She shook her head, laughing.

  "It would make me very happy," he stated. "Positively ecstatic."

  She smiled. "Who am I to deny you so much happiness, then?" She sat down beside him with a Latin textbook and he watched her reading it for a while.

  "Why do you study Latin?" he asked curiously, "are you going to study law or medicine?"

  She looked up. "You know that as a woman I am forbidden to study those subjects," she replied, not without an edge of bitterness in her voice. "But I like the language. It stimulates my mind, and I like to learn. When I am tired of Latin I may go onto French or Italian."

  "So, you like learning for the sake of learning?" he asked.

  She nodded.

  "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I think I am doing that too. I am learning to build, do woodwork, thatch, and paint. Next thing I want to do is metalwork with the blacksmith."

  "Those are practical skills," she replied, "and one day you may be able to build your own house—or castle."

  James eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. Jessica did not like the feeling of being stared at, so she kept her eyes resolutely on her book.

  "You are so clever," James said at last, "and so pretty."

  Jessica's eyes widened and she blushed. "Thank you, James," she said faintly.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you," he said hastily, "it's just that since you came here you seemed to have blossomed—I can't explain it."

  "Better food, I think." She looked down at her book again, then looked up again. "Fresh air, and being contented. Since I came here I have been very happy. I was before, of course, but country people are so simple and welcoming. Mr. and Mrs. McFarlane, the children, Heather, yourself and your mother and father. Everyone has been so kind to me. Townsfolk are distant, but everyone here treats me like a long-lost friend."

  "And you are not lost anymore?" James laughed. "More sherry?"

  Jessica eyed her empty glass. "I usually only have one," she said doubtfully.

  "But we are celebrating tonight!" He laughed, pouring a measure into her glass.

  Jessica gave him a quizzical look.

  "Our new relationship as friends," he replied, eyes twinkling. "To Jessica and James!"

  They clinked their glasses together in a toast. Jessica abandoned all hope of studying that evening.

  "Where did my sister go?" he asked Jessica.

  Jessica tapped her nose. "On a woman's errand," she replied mysteriously.

  James had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but he decided that it might be embarrassing so he dropped the subject. "I see," he said, not seeing at all.

  23

  Bruce's Story

  Senga Young and Lily McDade had brought a lot of lives into the world and seen a lot out of it since Bridie died. After the storm, they had been so busy that they had been obliged to hire a young woman called Alison Blair to help them. Alison was short, dumpy and freckled with the kind of red hair that could only be called carroty. She had left school the previous year and she was willing and amiable, if not very bright.

  She had a huge crush on Bruce and, when she was not busy, she would watch him from afar sighing with love-sickness.
Jessica found her one day sitting in the shadow of a rock on the hill overlooking the forge. At that moment no baby was being born and no corpse was being prepared for the grave, so she was free, at least for that short while.

  Jessica sat down beside her. "Hello, Alison," she smiled, "how do you like your new position?"

  "I like it fine, miss, except when the wee bairns are born deid." She shuddered. "An' when the mithers die. But Mistress McDade and Mistress Young say I will get used tae it. But some stories hae a happy endin'. They say they even found a wee bairn on the church steps ance an' a'. A baby boy."

  "Really?" Jessica was intrigued. "What happened to him?"

  "He wis adopted by a lady who had just lost her wee yin." She smiled. "an' he grew up healthy an' strang. He still lives in Invergar."

  "Who is he?" Jessica asked. She loved a happy ending.

  Alison pointed and Jessica followed the line of her finger.

  "Mr. Ferguson!" She was astonished. "I would never have guessed! Does anyone know who the real parents were?"

  "Naw, they never found oot, but his adopted mither lived here till his faither died," she went on, "then she got merrit tae a fella fae Dunbairn, but he wis wi' Bridie by then. Poor wee lassie. Fine figure o' a man, tae."

  "Do you like him?" Jessica asked, smiling.

  "Aye, miss." Alison blushed. "He's so bonny and strang! A' the lassies fancy him."

  Jessica put a hand on Alison's shoulder. "That he is," she agreed, "but remember that he is recently widowed and still mourning the loss of his wife."

  "Aye," Alison heaved a sigh that sounded as if it had come from the depths of her soul. "If only I wis tall and pretty wi' lovely dark hair like yours."

  Jessica laughed and put an arm around Alison's shoulders. "Thank you, but you are perfect just the way you are Alison," she said tenderly, "and you need to go with boys your own age. Mr. Ferguson is almost thirty and you are sixteen. He needs a lady the same age as he is when he's ready to marry again."

  "I'm only daydreamin', miss," Alison replied, smiling.