Highland Hero

by Hannah Howell

  “Your husband?”

  “Dead for near to six years. Your wife?”

  “Dead for near to eight.”

  “Ah, a shame; Fiona was a good woman. Cannae say the same for the fool I wed, but he did give me three fine lads.”

  “No lasses?”

  “Nay.” Mary sighed and leaned against Iain’s fence. “I have been set a quest as weel. There have been few Keith women born in the last generation or two, and e’en fewer left. Me, Rose, and one other, a cousin. I fear I cannae find the cousin.”

  “But why should ye need to?”

  “I am nay sure yet, but it must be done. ’Twill come to me.” She smiled at Iain. “Ye havenae changed all that much, ye great hairy brute.”

  Iain laughed. “Older. Nearing five and forty years. Got me five sons, though, and they help their old mon. I was surprised when ye didnae come after Flora died.”

  “Nothing called to me. Why? Has there been trouble for Rose?”

  Iain nodded at the woman marching down the road. “There is the trouble.”

  “Curse it, is that that wretched Joan Kerr?”

  “ ’Tis, and she is still a vile-tongued wretch. Since Flora died Mistress Kerr has turned her attention to young Rose.”

  “Who is that poor girl she is dragging along behind her?”

  “Her daughter Anne. And, since they are coming from Rose Cottage way, I have the ill feeling that the girl slipped away to visit Rose. That could cause a storm or two. The woman keeps a verra tight grip on that lass and intends her to be the laird’s bride.” He shook his head. “She has seen ye.”

  “What are ye doing here?” demanded Joan Kerr as she stopped in front of Mary. Her eyes widened when she noticed the full packs on the pony. “Sweet Jesu, ye arenae moving into Rose Cottage, are ye?”

  “Aye, I am,” replied Mary, and then she smiled at Anne. “And ye must be Anne. I am Mary Keith, Rose’s aunt.”

  “And more trouble for Duncairn,” snapped Joan before Anne could do more than nod in greeting. “Weel, I willnae stand for it.”

  “Then sit.” Mary winked at Anne when the young woman started to smile, but quickly banished the expression when her mother glanced her way.

  “Ye were always the worst of the Keith women,” said Joan. “Enjoy your wee visit with your niece.”

  “ ’Tis nay a visit. I intend to stay.”

  “What ye intend and what ye will be allowed to do are two verra different things. I wouldnae become too friendly with this woman, Master Iain. She willnae be here long.”

  Mary shook her head as she watched Joan stride away, still dragging her daughter along. “Wheesht, that woman still has a thistle stuck up her boney arse, doesnae she?” She grinned at Iain when he laughed.

  “Just be wary, Mary. She managed to stir up a fair crowd against poor Flora once. The old laird stopped it, but it was unpleasant. She could stir them up again.”

  “I ken it.” She bent closer and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Dinnae be a stranger, Iain.”

  “Ne’er that, Mary.” He watched her walk off toward Rose Cottage for a while, then straightened up only to find himself surrounded by his five sons. “Nay any work to do?”

  “Who was that woman?” asked Nairn, his eldest.

  “Weel, ye ken that I loved your mother and was ne’er false to her.” All his sons nodded. “If I had met that woman e’en a day or two ’ere I wed Fiona, there is a verra good chance ye would be calling her mother.”

  “Ah. A fine-looking woman. Ye still havenae said who she is.”

  “Mary Keith, Rose Keith’s aunt.”

  “Wheesht, no wonder Mistress Kerr left here with fire in her eyes.” Nairn grinned and nudged his father. “So, are ye going courting?”

  “Ye dinnae mind?”

  “Nay,” Nairn said and his brothers all mumbled in agreement. “I think she was giving ye the invite to do so, too.”

  “Then, aye, your old father is going courting, and all of us are going to keep a verra close eye on the Keith women.”

  “Trouble is brewing?”

  “It is, and I dinnae want it to disturb my courting.” He grinned when his sons laughed and, after one last glance toward Rose Cottage, he returned to work.

  “That bitch wore ye out, did she?”

  Rose frowned, certain she recognized that sweet, husky voice. “Aunt Mary?” she asked even as she slowly opened her eyes.

  “Aye. I have come to stay.” Mary laughed when Rose leapt to her feet and fiercely embraced her. “Ye have grown into a bonnie woman, lass,” she said as she held Rose a little away from her; then she noticed Meg moving to stand at Rose’s side. “And who is this?”

  Rose introduced her aunt to Meg and took a moment to steady herself. Her aunt looked so much like her mother, with her sea green eyes and bright red hair, that it was both a pain and a pleasure to see her. The woman’s arrival seemed a little too much like the answer to her prayers, as well.

  With Meg’s help she got her aunt settled in her mother’s old bedchamber, moving Meg in with herself. As Mary enjoyed her bath, Rose and Meg prepared a meal. Rose was looking forward to talking with her aunt. Perhaps Mary could give her the answers to a few questions.

  It was late before Rose found herself alone with her aunt. She suddenly was both eager to talk and yet unsure of what to say. Although she had a lot of questions, she was not sure how much she wanted to tell Mary.

  “Come, child, let us go for a walk in the garden,” said Mary, taking Rose by the hand and leading her outside. “I will start by saying I am sorry I didnae come to visit after coming for your mother’s burial. I fear I have no real excuse, except that all three of my sons found their loves and got wed one after the other. ’Ere I kenned it, three years were gone.”

  “No need to apologize, Aunt Mary,” Rose said. “Ye had a family and your own home.” She looked around the garden as they began to walk through it. “Believe me, I can weel understand how fast the days go by.”

  “Weel, I am here now. I was called, ye might say. Had a dream that told me to get that last boy wed and settled and get myself to Rose Cottage.”

  “Why would ye be, er, called?”

  “Because ye are soon to mate.”

  “Pardon?” Rose asked in a choked voice as she stopped and stared at her aunt.

  “Ye heard me. Ye will soon be wed. I spoke to an old friend on the road here, and he told me the laird has been sniffing about your skirts. ’Tis true?”

  “Aunt, he is the laird. Far and above my touch.”

  “Pah. Ye have good blood in your veins, lass. Near as good as his. Ye are clever, learned, and beautiful. Ye would make him a fine wife and I suspect ye would like it just fine.”

  Rose sighed. “I would, but I am nay sure why he seems to seek me out. I fear that somehow the food has made him—”

  “Nay,” Mary said firmly. “I refuse to believe that.”

  “He doesnae like the talk of magic, doesnae believe in magic, and doesnae want me to.”

  “Now that is a real problem. Lass, did poor Flora e’er tell ye about the garden?”

  “Nay. She said a few things, hints and pieces of the truth, but ne’er actually sat me down and told me the tale.”

  “This garden is fairy blessed, lass. The first Keith woman to come here saved the lives of several fairies, hiding them from some mortal fools. In return they asked her if she wished for anything. She told them she wanted a garden, a garden that gave people peace, that would soothe them in times of trouble and ease their heart’s wounds. I think she was just asking for a pretty garden and one that would produce weel. They took her at her word. After they had her walk the borders of the land the laird had given her, they put their blessing on it all. She still had no real idea of what they had given her, but she invited them to make their home on her lands. She promised that, as long as a Keith woman was able, one would be here to guard this place, to tend it and keep it from harm.”

  “And, again, they took her
at her word?”

  “They did. Have ye ne’er seen them?”

  Rose sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Aye,” she reluctantly admitted. “I have seen them. Some nights more clearly than others. I can see some now, their glow all ’round the apple trees.”

  “Aye, your mother said they seem to love the trees most of all. Ye cannae deny that heritage, lass. E’en if ye tried, the truth would come out. The magic is in ye, as weel as in this land and all that grows from it. ’Tis in all the Keith women descended from that first one. The fairies need the guardians of the garden to remain aware of them, to believe in them, so each guardian is kissed with magic. ’Tis nay always an easy gift, or a pleasant burden, but ’tis our fate and we must accept it.”

  “I ken it,” she muttered and went to stroke the trunk of her mother’s tree. “Do we linger here, Aunt? At times I swear I can feel my mother’s presence in this place.”

  “Oh, aye, all of them are here in a small way, e’en the first one. ’Tis why a tree is always planted when a Keith woman is born. That is your mother’s”—Mary touched the one opposite it—“and this is mine. Yours is o’er there, aye.”

  “Aye.” She touched the tree on the other side of her mother’s. “And this belonged to a Margaret Keith. Mother was afraid she had died, for she seemed to disappear. I am nay sure who this young one belongs to.” She touched the tree her mother had planted thirteen years ago. “Mother simply said she had to plant it. Something told her to plant this tree. Ye dinnae look surprised.”

  “Nay. I am nay only here to be guardian after ye wed, but to find the one who must follow me.”

  “Oh. I willnae have a daughter?”

  “I forsee a lot of braw laddies for ye, and only one lass, but she will have a different destiny. Nay, this tree is the one belonging to the guardian who will follow me. I just hope I am nay forced to search too far and wide. Most Keith women ken when it is time to come here, but this could be a lass left untold about her heritage, ignorant of what her dreams might try to tell her.”

  Rose sat down on a stone bench within a group of trees and smiled faintly when her aunt sat beside her. “ ’Tis not such a bad place to linger.”

  “Och, nay. Ye have been having trouble with Joan Kerr?”

  “Oh, aye. Her daughter slipped her leash and came to visit me. Wanted a love potion.” She smiled when her aunt laughed. “She loves a mon her mother willnae let her marry. Her mother wants her to be the laird’s wife. Anne wants Meg’s father. Anne is old enough to do as she pleases, but—” Rose shrugged.

  “She has been too long under Joan’s boot heel.”

  “Exactly.” She told her aunt what she had advised Anne to do and what Meg planned to do.

  “Good advice, lass. Aye, and the wee lass Meg will do her part weel. She is a canny one. And though she has a tongue as sharp as mine, she has a soft, loving heart. All that is good, but nay for ye.”

  “Och, nay. With the laird showing me what Mistress Kerr sees as interest and now Anne easing free of her grip, I have become the verra worst of enemies. I wish I kenned exactly what the laird is about, besides stealing kisses and trying to prove there is no magic here. Most times I dinnae think the food has stirred his interest in me, and I am almost always sure he isnae after naught more than a quick rutting, but I just dinnae ken.”

  Mary put her arm around her niece and kissed her on the cheek. “When ’tis a mon’s feelings ye must judge the worth of, it can take a while to get to the truth. I offer ye but one piece of advice: Dinnae let him make ye deny what ye are. That road leads to misery. He must accept ye as all ye are or leave ye be.”

  “I ken it. I didnae want to, but I do ken it. I may nay be sure of anything else, but of that I am. I realized it during one of our arguments. I felt that, if naught else, ’twould be like spitting upon my mother’s memory, e’en on that of all the ones before her, if I denied magic. I can still waver in my belief, or mayhap ’tis more a waver in my wanting to believe. Life would be so much easier without such complications.”

  “Ah, but nay so interesting.”

  Rose laughed. “True. Do ye have any thoughts on how to deal with Mistress Kerr?”

  “Aside from sewing her mouth shut, nay.” She grinned when Rose giggled. “We must prepare ourselves. She will try to hurt us in some way. Her daughter will have that mon she seeks and that will cause her to fair foam at the mouth.”

  “So, Anne will be with Jamie?”

  “I believe so.” Mary frowned. “ ’Tis a little hard for me to say it with certainty, for I got such a sense of conflict and fear from the girl when I met her on the road here. But Meg is right. Her father is a shy mon, and if Anne is brave enough to give him a hint of interest, it would be best if someone is there to be sure he responds.”

  Rose nodded, then quickly placed her hand over her mouth to hide a wide yawn. “I didnae do a great deal today, yet I feel verra tired.”

  “Ye suffered through a lot of turmoil and were afflicted by Joan’s bitterness and anger. Emotions can weary a person as easily as hard work.” She stood up, took Rose by the hand, and led her back to the house. “I hope your young lad comes round soon, for I am eager to have a good look at him.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Mary laughed. “It willnae be so bad. Mayhap I will charm the fool.”

  “Oh, ye can be verra charming when ye wish to be, but ye are also verra open about, weel, magic. That is why I said, ‘Oh, dear.’ ”

  “He has to face it, lass. No one is asking him to become a believer, just to cease refusing ye the right to believe.”

  “He is verra concerned about the trouble it could bring me.”

  “A good sign. Yet the trouble coming our way has a verra clear source—Joan Kerr. In truth, most of the occasional trouble visited upon the Keith women has come from but one person. Sad to say, ’tis most often a jealous woman. We Keith women are simply too beautiful and charming for some women to accept.”

  Rose laughed and kissed her aunt’s cheek. “I am glad ye have come. Meg is clever and good company, but just lately I seem to have been besieged by problems I wished to speak to another woman about.”

  “I understand. Ye ken that ye can talk to me about anything.”

  “Och, aye. Even Mother used to laugh and say ye were a blunt-tongued wretch who ne’er seemed to be embarrassed by anything.”

  “Aye, she was verra fond of me.” Once they were inside the cottage, Mary secured the door as Rose moved to bank the fire. “ ’Tis a verra fine place,” Mary said as she looked around. “ ’Twill be easy to call it home. Weel, I am to bed. See ye in the morning, lass.”

  Rose wished her aunt a good sleep and, after securing the house, made her way to her own bed. Her aunt was lively, loving, and sometimes far too outspoken, but it was good to have her at Rose Cottage. Although a part of her was delighted by her aunt’s prediction that she and Adair would be wed, Rose forced herself not to put too much faith in that. There was a lot she was yet unsure of, and there was also his aversion to magic. Neither obstacle was a small one.

  Chapter 7

  Adair dismounted in front of Rose Cottage. He felt embarrassingly eager to see Rose. It had been a full week since he had last seen her. Even though the week had been full of hard work, his mind had often been filled with thoughts of her. Once he had often awakened in the night asweat with fears caused by nightmares. Now he often woke all asweat with desire for Rose. She had faithfully sent an evening meal to him, Robert, and Donald for the whole week. Even though he was not sure he wanted to give them up, he had taken her advice, followed the men who had consistently missed the meal in the great hall, and found himself a new cook. He knew it was only right to tell Rose she no longer needed to do all that extra cooking. It also provided an excellent reason to visit her.

  Just as he was ready to rap on her door, he noticed her four cats arranged in various indecent positions on the top of the sun-drenched garden wall. A neatly stacked collection of kegs and barr
els revealed how they had gotten up so high. He had known some men who treated their hunting dogs better than they did their children, but Rose took the spoiling of her animals to new lengths. The woman had far too soft a heart.

  Then he heard a soft familiar voice drifting up from behind the wall. Strolling over to the garden gate, he found Rose in the middle of one of her raised plots just beneath the wall the cats were sprawled on. He grinned as he entered the garden and moved up behind her. Her skirts were tucked up, exposing a fine pair of slender legs to just above the knee. When he realized what she was saying he had to bite back the urge to laugh.

  “This is your last warning, Sweetling,” Rose muttered as she used her small garden spade, a hand-sized one the annoying Geordie’s father had once made for her, to remove a clump of dirt from the garden. “Ye are to cease using my garden as a privy. Aye, ’tis fine, soft dirt and ye ne’er hurt the plants, but I dinnae like finding it. Have I nay set ye aside a fine, large plot of dirt in the garden behind the cottage? Use that, ye wretch.” She tipped fresh dirt into the small hole she had made.

  “I dinnae think he is listening to ye,” Adair said.

  Rose gave a soft screech and stumbled as she tried to turn. Adair moved quickly to catch her around the waist and lift her out of the garden. He set her down on her feet, keeping his hands on her waist, and grinned. Rose’s face was smudged with dirt. Long strands of hair had escaped the loose braid she had forced it into to tangle around her face. There was even the faint gleam of sweat upon her face and neck.

  “I didnae mean to startle ye,” he said.

  “Ye shouldnae creep up on people that way.”

  “I didnae try to be stealthy. Ye didnae hear me because ye were too busy scolding your cat.”

  It was not easy, but Rose suppressed the urge to curse. She had a very good idea of how poorly she looked, dirty and disheveled. That was embarrassing enough. To realize he had heard her talking to her cat was almost more than she could bear. She tugged free of his grasp and went to the well in the heart of the garden. If she cleaned herself up a bit, she might be able to regain some small scrap of dignity.