Heart Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Lady! Come and buy some nuts? Fresh and roasted, warm for the chill.”

  Amabel smiled at the man. She accepted a bag of nuts and paid a coin. She bit into one, feeling the delicious, starchy warmth fill her mouth. Roasted chestnuts were a favorite of hers. Blowing out the steam behind a delicate hand, she made a decision. She went across to the youths who had almost finished raising their stall.

  “Greetings,” she said, trying to slur her accent slightly so they would not guess she was a lady. She was not sure why she thought it would help – she was wearing one of her old gowns but it was still finest wool and stood out in the market like a coin dropped on cobblestone.

  They all stared at her.

  “Hello, mistress,” one of them, the eldest, Amabel presumed, said gruffly. He looked to be fourteen or fifteen years old.

  “I heard you boys were cutting wood near Dunkeld?” she asked cheerily.

  The boys looked at each other. They seemed frightened of her, and Amabel sympathized with them. A lady – probably one of the Lochlann ladies herself – appearing in their stall and asking odd questions was probably quite a frightening thing.

  “Aye, mistress,” one of the boys said. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and stood straight. The other boys followed the example, furtively wiping their hands.

  She smiled.

  “I heard you saw men in the woods?”

  Again, the silent consulting among them. The eldest spoke up. “We saw an army, milady.”

  “Oh?” Amabel raised her brow. “Why do you say an army?”

  “Well...” The boy paused. “What we saw wasnae an army. We saw some blokes in mail, wandering about. We was with Gylas. He's his da',” he added, pointing to one of the younger boys in the group, “an' he told us to be quiet. He said they looked like scouts.”

  “Scouts?”

  “Like the forerunners of an army,” the younger boy – the son of Gylas – said. “That's why he told us to be quiet, see. They shouldnae know we'd seen them.”

  “There was five of 'em,” the first boy added helpfully. “So, it must've been a big army, to have so many scouts, see,” he elaborated, clearly pleased to demonstrate his knowledge.

  Amabel stared. “Truly?”

  The boy scratched his head.

  “She wants tae know, is you talkin' shite? Or is it straight?”

  “Nae! I'm no' a chancer! You know as well as ah do it's straight.”

  Amabel sighed. “Very well. So, the five of you saw scouts in the woods near Dunkeld. Yes?”

  “Aye.” the boy replied.

  “Good,” Amabel said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone, though her heart was thumping. “And do you know where they came from?”

  “North,” a boy replied.

  Amabel blinked.

  “How do you know that?”

  “'Cos that's where they were comin' from, mistress,” he piped up. He looked at her as if she was missing a remarkably obvious point.

  She sighed.

  “Good. If you were to guess what clan they were, what would you say?”

  She held her breath while the boys scratched their heads, thinking. The reference to the north already made her wonder if it was the MacAdams: their major stronghold was to the east, she knew.

  “MacDowell!” the boy said at once.

  She stared at them. She was so shocked she almost dropped the bag of nuts she held. When the boys saw it, they looked at her as if she threw away gold. She sighed.

  “You're sure it was the MacDowells? Why?”

  “'Dunno, mistress. 'Cos they were comin' from up that way?”

  Amabel nodded. It made sense. “Thank you,” she said politely. “Could any of you use some nuts?” she added. “Only I am not that fond of them, and...”

  The boys all stepped closer, with clamorous shouts of “Nuts!” “Ta!” “Thank 'ee, milady.”

  She smiled and handed them to the leader then walked away as they squabbled about them. She headed to the fabric-sellers and selected a length of pale gray velvety-cloth. She paid for it and then headed at once toward the castle.

  She glanced up, noticing it was about to rain. Quickening her pace, she headed back to the castle.

  As she walked up the slope that led to the gate, feeling the first spots of rain start falling, she wondered,

  is there anything in what those boys were saying? Or is this simply idle chatter?

  Rolling the velvet under her arm, she decided there was only one way to find out. She would go and ask Aunt Aili. If anyone would know, she would.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  TALK WITH A FRIEND

  TALK WITH A FRIEND

  “Hello?”

  Amabel knocked at the door. The east turret was cold and windy as it had been the last time she was here. This time, she walked hastily up the steps, without hesitating.

  She paused. When there was no answer, she knocked again.

  “Hello?”

  “Come in.”

  This time, the voice and the strange distortion of the door did not bother her nearly as much. She opened the door and went inside.

  As it had been last time, the room was stiflingly warm, the fire stoked furnace-hot. Amabel stood on the threshold, shedding her cloak quickly in the heat.

  Aili was sitting where she had been. She chuckled.

  “Come in, niece. It is good to see you, and in such spirits!”

  Amabel smiled. “I am, thank you.”

  Her aunt cackled. “Oh! And I can guess he is a fine husband. I am pleased for you. Come! We must have our cakes and ale.”

  As she had the last time, the servant rushed out to do as Aili bid her. This time, the cakes and ale appeared faster, so that by the time her aunt had stood up from the chair and settled herself down at the table, the maid was back.

  “Aunt,” Amabel said, deciding to address the matter at once, “I was at the market today...”

  “And you brought me a present. Thank you, dear. My tapestries will be up soon, I think?”

  Amabel smiled. “Yes, Auntie. I did. The present is in the basket at the door, if your maid would take it?”

  As Aili called for the maid, Amabel composed herself.

  “Auntie,” she said when the maid had disappeared into the back of the suite, taking the gift with her, “I heard about the MacDonnells. It is believed they are preparing to assault Dunkeld.”

  Aili smiled. “Those wily men. Aye! I wondered when Neil would break his bonds and come for it. It all makes sense.”

  She was nodding, chewing a small cake thoughtfully.

  Amabel frowned.

  “So, it is likely that the MacDonnells are making war on the fortress?”

  “Inevitable, my dear.” The answer was given through pastry.

  Aili swallowed and dabbed her lips.

  “But... Auntie? Why the MacDonnells?”

  “Well…” Her aunt dabbed away pastry and sipped her ale, thinking. “Is it not clear already? The MacAdams and MacConnellys are already at each other’s' throats! Two great enemies. Enemies of the MacDonnell both. Why not now? It is the perfect time.”

  Amabel stared. She felt as if someone had finally granted her sight. She had been blind!

  Everything made sense. Absolute, complete and total sense.

  “So...” She paused, clasping her hands as she marshaled thoughts. “So, the MacDonnells are the longstanding enemies of the MacConnelly, and ours also?”

  Aili nodded. “That Neil, their laird. I've known him since he was a bairn. Not right in the head, he's not. He hated us. I knew he'd come for us sometime. I always did.”

  Amabel blinked. “And they are enemies of the MacConnelly and have always been?”

  “That's correct,” Aili agreed.

  “And so... they sought to set us all against each other. Is that right?”

  Aili laughed hollowly. “Right as rain, my dear.” Outside, the rain hissed.

  Amabel shivered.

  “So, the
raiders. They were not Bradley. Am I right?”

  Her aunt chuckled. “Right indeed.”

  Amabel stared at her. She set her cup down, slowly, knowing she would choke if she tried to drink anything at this point.

  “So, it was all a ruse,” she began slowly. “The raid. The Bradleys. The feuding between them?”

  “Absolutely,” Aili agreed immediately.

  “So, Aisling died because...because of...”

  “Nothing, dear,” Aili said harshly. “She died because of nothing. A whim. A fancy. An idea. And under it all the perilous ambition. The lust for power. That was all it was. Power. Ah! What people do for it. They run in little circles and make themselves puppets. Is being a puppet power? I say not! Do you?”

  Amabel stared at her. She thought of Brien, her great-uncle. Aili was clearly thinking of him, too.

  “I agree, Auntie,” Amabel said quietly.

  Aili laughed. “Good for you!”

  They sat silently a while. The fire was the only sound, hissing and popping in the grate, a breathing being.

  After a moment, Amabel cleared her throat.

  “Aili?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “What can we do?”

  Aili sighed. “What we can do is up to you, my child.”

  Amabel frowned. “What must I do?”

  “That is a different question. One only you can answer. There is no must, my dear. Only will. If you want to change this, there is a way.”

  Amabel stared at her. Of course, she wanted to! She imagined the horror that was, even now, marching to the fortress of Dunkeld. The misery, the pain it would cause. And the vengeance it would call down on successive generations. She had seen enough of vengeance and the misery it wrought to never want it. But she was not sure if Broderick would believe her. Not yet. She needed proof.

  “I want to do something. Help me know what to do.”

  Aili smiled. “Hold your hand out, dear.”

  Amabel obeyed without thinking about it.

  Surprisingly, all Aili did was hold it in her own.

  “You have courage. And love. Those are all you need. What do they tell you to do?”

  Amabel closed her eyes. What did they tell her to do? As she sat there, thinking, an idea began to form in her mind. She knew she should not involve Broderick. Not yet. Not until she knew more.

  “I want to go. To warn them. To expose the lies for what they are, once and for all.”

  “Well, then.” Aili smiled at her. “That is what you must do.”

  “I think...” Amabel bit her lip. “I think I know how.”

  Aili smiled. “If you wish to tell me, I am listening, child. If not, I wish you blessings.”

  Amabel drew in a deep breath. “I wish to tell you.”

  “Then do so.”

  “Well, then.” Amabel paused. “What I plan is this....”

  She talked to Aili until the sun set and the maid returned. When Aili invited her to stay and take dinner with her, she politely declined. Not particularly because she did not like her company – she did – but because she had promised to be at dinner that evening.

  She said her farewells and walked quickly down the stairs and to the door that led back into the body of the castle. As she walked, she thought hard about all that had happened. All that she had planned and said.

  She had an idea. And she would put it into practice.

  It was dangerous. But she had to try.

  It was the only plan she had to stop total warfare from engulfing them completely. She had to do something and, as much as she loved Broderick, she knew he would not trust her before she had more proof. This was a way to gather it – the only way she knew.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  STRANGE NEWS

  STRANGE NEWS

  “An'... heave!”

  Broderick swung the two-handed sword with practiced ease. He grinned at the younger man opposite him who was sweating with effort.

  “There ye go, Cam. Ye'll get the swing right soon.”

  Cam, the young man, gave him a skeptical look. Broderick smiled. He was tired. He had been training with the guard since morning and he could feel his arm aching. Fighting in mail, wielding two-handed swords, needed huge strength. And that strength needed to be kept up by constant practice. Feeling tired and grimy with sweat and dust, Broderick loped away into the hall.

  I should ask Duncan to come back. If I'm only to be here a few days longer, I could do with him as a training partner. And his company would make the ride more pleasant.

  Dunkeld was no more than a day's ride from Lochlann castle, and Broderick was looking forward to the time when he would finally make the foray into the woods, taking his bride with him. Lord Lochlann seemed satisfied with his achievement and he was sure he would be able to return home any day now.

  “Still limping, Lord Broderick?”

  An insolent young voice hailed Broderick from the archway to the great hall. Broderick saw Blaine there and grinned.

  “As you see.” He sighed. “It's worse after all day standing. I'm back in practice now, though, young man. So, you hauld yer mouth. We'll test this leg of mine out someday. You and I.”

  Blaine grinned. He crunched the late apple he was holding, swallowing the mouthful before he made reply. “An' I'll land up on me arse, sir.”

  Broderick ruffled his hair vigorously. “I'm not sure of that, young man.”

  Blaine grinned lopsidedly. “We can see.” Then he yawned. “I'm off riding.”

  Broderick nodded. “Go safely.”

  “I'll do that,” Blaine called over his shoulder as he loped to the stables.

  Broderick sighed. He headed across the hallway to the stairs. What he really wanted was a wash. Then he might head up to the solar and see if Amabel had finished sewing yet.

  Amabel. The thought made his loins ache, and his heart thump in his chest. He knew his body was already ready for her, and he smiled ruefully.

  Och, mon! Imagine if someone sees you now! He patted the front of his tunic, self-consciously, lest there be something showing there. Satisfied that there was nothing, he headed on upstairs to the solar.

  He paused outside. He could hear high laughter and women talking to each other. He listened in with curiosity.

  “...and so, I told her I wouldn't be needing any assistance for that,” Amabel was saying. Alina was giggling helplessly.

  “No,” Alina managed between the giggles. “I can imagine not.”

  “...the man's as tireless as an ogre,” Amabel said, giggling helplessly.

  “But nothing like one to look at, I gather.”

  “No! Nothing like that at all.”

  Broderick felt his face split with a grin. The thought that his prowess was a topic of conversation between the women was a source of pride and amazement.

  And men think women are shy and hesitant!

  Unless he was asking his brother for advice, he himself would hardly ever mention his nocturnal adventures. The fact that two ladies would actively discuss him, and in that way, made him blush warmly.

  In the bedchamber, he waited while the maid fetched warm water for the bath. Then he slipped in, relishing the feeling of the water cleansing his skin.

  He had just stepped out when he heard a light laugh in the corridor beyond. His body tensed.

  “Hello?” His voice was as dry as if he had licked salt.

  “Broderick?” She appeared in the door, all long, loose red hair and smiles. She was wearing a cream linen gown and she smelled of flowers.

  Broderick crushed her to him, feeling the sweet softness of her body mold to his.

  “Amabel,” he whispered into her hair. “My darling Amabel.”

  Amabel smiled up into his eyes, blue eyes teasing.

  “You seem hungry, my lord? Should I send Blaire to the pantry?”

  Broderick smiled. He bent down and kissed her full on the lips, feeling his heart beat faster.

  “I am hungry, but only one t
hing satisfies me,” he said roughly.

  Amabel smiled, teasing. “And what might that be, my lord?”

  “I can show you.”

  Amabel blinked those long blue eyes at him. “I'm waiting patiently.”

  He laughed and pulled her closer, shutting the door behind her with a click.

  In the bedroom, he fell on her, pulling her dress down and off with passionate haste. He threw her onto the bed and joined her there, planting little kisses all down her skin.

  When he reached her abdomen, he stopped. He looked up at her, teasing. Her eyes were open, her lips parted. He grinned.

  “Oh, yes...” she moaned as he bent lower.

  He parted her thighs gently and, very gently, lapped his tongue along her silky folds. She screeched and shook and still he kept up his gentle lapping, mouthing, tasting.

  When she finally groaned aloud and, shivering, collapsed beneath him, he lay for a moment, head against her legs.

  “You amaze me,” she whispered as he crawled up to lie beside her.

  He smiled. “Nothin' compared to you,” he said as he nestled closer beside her.

  She smiled and kissed him and they lay together, content.

  Broderick woke to feel Amabel stroking his brow.

  “Mm?” he said softly.

  “Broderick?” she ventured.

  “Yes?”

  He opened his eyes and noticed she was looking down, frowning.

  “I wanted to ask...” She hesitated. “You aren't going to campaign for my uncle again, are you?”

  Broderick sighed. He reached up and embraced her shoulders. “I don't know.”

  Amabel frowned. “Has he asked you to?”

  “Not yet,” Broderick admitted. “But I saw him talking to the Thane of Coverly and I suspect he is planning something.”

  Amabel closed her eyes. “Please don't go?”

  Broderick sat up. He stroked her hair, looking up into her blue eyes. She looked sad. He would do anything to take away that sadness. But he could not refuse aid to an ally – not if they approached him directly.