Loving A Highland Enemy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Freya, Bridget

  “I’m getting cold,” Adeline said out of nowhere. Grace realized that it was starting to get a bit chilly and there was certainly a storm brewing outside.

  “The fire is fading and I can hear the wind picking up. I’m thinking we’ll need a bit of fuel. Want me to run down and check in the kitchen? There’s bound to be plenty for us,” Grace offered.

  “Aye, it’d be grand. I’m shivering and I dinnae think blankets are going to do the job. A bit of fire would be nice,” Adeline said.

  “If I dinnae find any fuel, then ye can be sure that we’re going to use yer fears. We’ll burn them away until there’s nothing left but brave ye,” Grace said.

  She hopped off her bed and began to make her way down the stairs. Grace wondered if the storeroom was stocked well enough for winter. The cold was only bound to get worse and the storms would become harsher.

  Her uncle, the laird, was not always a man prepared for little things like that. He was ready to defend his home, ready to ensure he could win a battle, but preparing for winter? That was not necessarily his forte.

  Grace went through the kitchen and just outside the door. There were four sheds and she tried to remember which one might hold the fuel. She knew one was the stillroom, one the storehouse, but the sheds were all identical and she typically didn’t have to take care of these things.

  The women of the house relied heavily on the maids for this sort of thing, but it was late and most of them had gone to bed. Grace didn’t think of herself as being above these small duties and had no concern with going and handling it herself. The only problem she faced now was that she wasn’t used to it and therefore didn’t know exactly where to go.

  “Oh come now, Grace. Which one is it?” she asked herself.

  The wind whipped around her for a moment but settled. She couldn’t tell if the storm would come or not. Most nights it did, but then other evenings it would brew angrily before leaving them in peace and a restful sky would finally descend over the castle.

  However, while the sky had calmed, or was considering it, there was a great disturbance in the peace of the night.

  The sound of crashing came from the second shed and Grace thought the wind must have knocked something over. Before she had a chance to check the other sheds for the fuel she wanted, she figured she could check to see if anything had been damaged or at least straighten up whatever may have fallen over.

  She went over and tried to open the door. It was stuck fast, but she continued to pull on it with all her strength until finally it gave way. Opening it wide, Grace took a step inside and squinted to see if anything was out of place.

  Though the darkness concealed any detail, Grace saw before her the shape of a man crouched low, whimpering and holding his arm.

  As Grace gasped and stepped back from him, the man came forward just enough for her to see two green eyes staring back at her.

  Discovered

  “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Douglas said, once he had recovered himself. The last thing he had expected was to be discovered even out here in this little shed. However, more than that, it was her that he had never expected.

  She was here. Actually in the castle. No matter how he had tried to forget her, he found himself crouched on the ground before her. The woman with the incredible blue eyes, the shapely figure, the smooth brown locks of hair. She was here.

  When the beautiful woman in the forest had asked directions to Dunmore, he had assumed she lived nearby and it was the easiest landmark to place. Little did he imagine that she actually lived within the castle walls. Little did he know that she would be the one to stumble in on him in the middle of the night when he was weak and ill.

  “I-I am fine. I fear that I startled ye in return,” Grace replied.

  He could see that she found herself confused by his perfect Gaelic, although he knew his accent didn’t quite fit her local tongue. He also sensed that she was unused to being so flustered in the presence of another person, especially a man.

  “I suppose you’re wondering exactly what a man like me is doing here in your storeroom,” he said with an attempt at a laugh. It only made him wince in pain. It was an awkward and slightly embarrassing moment for him.

  “Well, the thought did pass through me mind,” she said in apparent confusion.

  “I am sorry for startling you,” he said again.

  “It’s nothing, but ye haven’t really answered why ye’re here,” she replied.

  “Maybe it’s better that I don’t,” he said.

  Grace eyed him suspiciously. If he was unwilling to give her an answer, then maybe it’s because he was spying on her, or maybe he had followed her after all like Joanna warned. It was all a trap.

  “I did not expect to find you here,” he said as she watched him.

  “Ye didnae?” she asked accusingly.

  “No, when you asked for directions to Dunmore, I simply thought you were headed this way. Nothing would have made me suspect that I would find you here in the middle of the night just days later,” he said.

  “I dinnae think ye found me at all, but rather I found ye. And I found ye wounded and broken nearly beyond repair. What foolishness got ye to this state?” she asked.

  “As I said, it’s likely better that I don’t go into all that just now,” he replied.

  “Then it’s likely better that I leave ye here and accidentally alert the guards of a spy,” Grace threatened.

  Douglas nodded. “It would likely be the wiser thing, but you see, I’m no spy. At least, not just now. Rather I’m just a wounded soldier passing by.”

  “Passing by me home,” she added.

  “So you live here? In the castle? Do you work here as a servant?” he asked, alluding to the fact that she was gathering things from the storeroom.

  Grace scoffed bitterly at the suggestion.

  “So, not a maid? A princess?” he inquired.

  She looked at him with angry eyes. “Is that all women are? Servants or princesses? A maid must be cast out into the night and a princess can never leave the castle, right?” she asked. “My goodness, what a paradox it is to be a woman!”

  Douglas could see that he had offended her, but was clueless as to what he had done wrong.

  “As it happens, I am the lady of the house,” she said.

  His face looked suddenly sad for just a flicker of a moment before he returned to his stoic persona. “So you are the laird’s wife?” he asked.

  “Oh good heavens, ye are hopeless. No, I am just his niece and I live here,” she replied.

  A wave of relief washed over Douglas’s face and he seemed to take in the news of her station. He suddenly realized why she had been insulted by his suggestion that she was a servant and why she would think poorly of him for assuming she was just another pampered lady like the ones in England.

  Douglas tried to shift his weight, but the burning pain of his arm caused him to hiss and he nearly collapsed from the agony.

  Grace rushed to him despite herself. Pulling his hand away, she revealed a shot to his left arm. It was bloody and quite a mess. She had never seen anything quite so horrible, despite the fact that she and her cousins had assisted in helping with small wounds.

  Seeing it closer up, Grace gasped. Douglas watched her with pity. It was clear that she was not cut out for this sort of sight. However, what was worse, he could see that she was looking a bit nauseous and for that, he felt terribly guilty to have put her in such a position.

  “Forgive me for allowing you to see me like this,” he said.

  “It’s nothing,” she replied, covering her mouth with the back of her hand to prevent herself from gagging at the sight of all that blood. “In fact, me cousins and I have all seen small wounds and have helped those who’ve been inflicted with them. It’s a necessity in these times. But…I cannae say I’ve seen anything quite like this…”

  Douglas winced as he looked back at her. He was ashamed for being in such a state and knew it was a mistake
to have come here for assistance.

  “Can ye tell me exactly what happened?” she asked suddenly.

  Douglas could feel a slight accusation in the question. She clearly understood him to be the enemy, a Hanoverian. However, he also saw that she didn’t want to hate him. He inhaled deeply, nervous to go into the full tale and reveal that it was indeed, her side that had shot at him, and it had not been an unprovoked attack.

  “My army has a duty. We were about our scouting when we came upon a Jacobean stronghold. We had not attacked, but they had every reason to fear that we might, so they struck first. Forgive me for being so frank with you,” he said. His words were not overly harsh, and yet they, too, held an accusation in them.

  He could see that Grace felt that she should be angry at him for laying all the blame on the Jacobites they had passed. Of course they had felt threatened. Everything the Hanoverians did was a threat to them. Still, she was moved by his wound. In addition, he was moved by the fact that she hadn’t chosen to finish him off when he knew that this was her perspective.

  He only wished that he could make her realize the error of that perspective and see that it was, in fact, the Jacobites that were in the wrong in this battle. Perhaps then, she might not be a risk for him in terms of whether or not she was planning to hand him over to her laird. He wouldn’t fight; he would be brave. Nevertheless, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t pray.

  “And why exactly have ye chosen to come here for it?” Grace asked further, inquiring as to the reason he sought help at Dunmore when he was so clearly opposed to the Jacobean cause. There was a small part of her that hoped he would say it was to see her, but she pushed the thought away with anger that the idea should even cross her mind.

  “I heard there is a healer here. A woman with great skill. I do not know her name for certain, only that she is new to living in Dunmore and her name is something like Joy or Joyce,” he said, gritting his teeth through the pain.

  “That would be Joanna,” Grace replied, allowing a bit of annoyance to come through in her words. He could at least try to get her friend’s name right. “In fact, ye already met her. In the woods. With me.”

  Douglas realized that his mouth had dropped slightly. Would the healer trust him, knowing that he was a Hanoverian? Had he ruined his chance of receiving medical care?

  “I see…” he said. Uncertain how to proceed, he simply looked at her with eyes that tried not to beg for mercy.

  “Come along then,” she said after a moment.

  “Where? Are you going to give me up? I understand if you must. I know that it must be a horror to walk out here and find a wounded Hanoverian hiding out. So I shall go with you, whatever awaits me,” Douglas said firmly.

  He knew that being a soldier meant dying bravely. It was understood that this was his duty and he would accept it willingly, even if a small part of him held fear for the end of his life. Worse, perhaps a short life remained for him, one of prison and torture.

  Grace scoffed and looked at him with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. “Dinnae be so dramatic. Ye’re daft as anything, but I’ll help ye anyway. Come, and be quick about it. No sense sitting there forever holding yer arm like that.”

  Douglas watched her as she turned to leave and almost forgot to follow, so shocked he was at her order. She truly meant to help him. She truly wished to assist him despite their vastly different positions in the world.

  Again, he found himself moved by her. Whatever it was that had brought them face to face once more, there was quite a sense of humor to it.

  “Be fast,” she ordered. “It’s yer arm that’s hurt, not yer legs. I dinnae care if ye’re bleeding to death, it just means ye need to go faster so I can help ye before the last drop leaves ye.”

  Grace peaked in the first storeroom but didn’t see what she was looking for, so she checked the third.

  “Ah, here is it. Sit. I’ll get the needle sterilized,” she said, striking a match from the kit she had found in the third room. Douglas had followed her in and took a seat on one of the small wooden stools that he found.

  He watched as she dropped the needle into a little metal bowl and held the flame against it. He wasn’t sure how good an option this was. It was better if she boiled it.

  Douglas looked around the room and saw quickly enough that in this instance, there was no option for boiling it. The only way she could do it would be if the woman went into the kitchen in the castle and handled it, which would certainly bring about questions.

  As an enemy hiding in one of the storerooms, the last thing Douglas wanted was to have someone questioning what she did and coming out to discover him hiding in the room. It seemed, for the moment anyway, that this method of sanitizing was the best option after all.

  “Right, that ought to do it,” Grace said.

  “Tell me why…” he began, trailing off and suddenly unsure if he really wanted to ask the question.

  “Why, what?” Grace asked.

  Douglas paused for a moment to consider his words. “Tell me why you are helping me instead of taking me to your laird and having me imprisoned or worse?” he asked.

  Grace considered him for a moment, not entirely sure herself. She couldn’t very well tell him that she was attracted to him. Or that she had thought about him repeatedly over the past three days. “I suppose it is because ye showed me and Joanna a great kindness in the forest when yer friends didnae want to show us the same kindness,” she said vaguely. It seemed as good an excuse as any.

  Douglas considered this for a moment before deciding to believe her motives. “Yes well, Allen is an ass,” he replied, scratching at the stubble on his chin and pretending that was the only reason he had chosen to help her and Joanna.

  “And if ye dinnae want to join him in everyone thinking the same of ye, make yerself quiet and be patient,” she ordered.

  Behind the Green-Eyed Man

  “Just hold still a moment longer. Ye’ll be fine once I get this last stitch,” Grace promised. It had taken a good deal of time to get this far. Douglas had endured it with great strength, but she watched him grit his teeth against the pain.

  He had taken a few swigs of the whisky she had given him, but Grace was certain that it had not been quite enough to dull the pain and it was clear that he was not a whisky drinker. In fact, from the look on his face, Grace would have guessed that he preferred the pain of the needle to the pain of the swallow.

  “Finished,” she said at last. As Grace lifted her fingers from his skin, she felt as though she had suddenly lost something very precious to her.

  Douglas took in a big gulp of air to release the tension he had held as Grace had done her work. He was relieved to have the stitches over with and Grace could not help but wonder if perhaps he was also relieved to have her release him from her touch.

  “Thank you,” he said, sighing once more. It seemed his relief was more to do with the pain than her fingers letting go.

  “It’s nothing. But I still have to dress it,” she replied. It was, perhaps, even more agonizing for Grace than it had been for Douglas. As she had cleaned the wound, her fingers brushed along his skin. As she made each stitch, she was sad for the hole created in his flesh.

  Now she would have to wrap it, continuing the connection that seemingly caused shocks throughout her system, as if a lightning storm were very near and she was wrapped in a velvet sheet. Her flesh prickled and she couldn’t help but be moved by him.

  She wondered if he felt it. He wasn’t speaking much, but he didn’t seem quite so affected by her touch as she was of sensing him against her skin. She was being foolish. She had to stop this nonsense.

  “So tell me why ye were scouting. Ye said it’s a part of yer job. What part? Why is it necessary to spy on the Jacobites?” she asked forthrightly. If she could push him away before he got too close, she would be content to feel that she had been rid of him and not been rejected by an enemy that she so desired.

  Douglas seemed to tense again, taken aback b
y her brisk attitude. Whatever he had been thinking or feeling before, Grace was relieved to know that she had just quenched it.

  “As it happens, we have to keep an eye on those who would come after us. It is not the Hanoverians who have come to attack the Jacobites, but those men who have tried to steal from us. We are mere defenders of what is, and has always been, ours,” he replied with equal bitterness in his tone.

  “Ha! What utter bullocks that was. Do ye really believe it or is it just what ye’ve been trained to say time and again?” Grace asked him mockingly.

  He eyed her for a moment, those green eyes turning to slits of anger. However, he did not hold it for long as Grace gave a cocked eyebrow and a hand on her hip. She would not allow him to frighten her.

  However, just as Grace felt strongest, she realized the nonsense of falling into argument with this man. Allowing him to draw her into it would be of little help to either of them.

  It was too confusing to decide how to proceed with him. Grace couldn’t decide whether she wanted to push him away or draw him close. Why did he have to look at her that way? Intrigue and anger mixed as one emotion.

  “Ye need to make sure ye keep this clean,” she said, returning her attention to his wound and acting as though their frustrated words had not been exchanged.

  “Believe it or not, we Hanoverians are more capable of caring for things and keeping them clean than the Jacobites,” he said. It seemed as though his vehemence had not cooled yet and he would continue his raging at her.

  She watched him drag a finger along his chin, like a nervous tick despite the arrogance of his words.

  Grace was tempted to retort what she had heard about the toxic air of the gas lamps in London, but she held her tongue. She would simply fix his wound and he would be on his way. Well, perhaps not immediately. She would likely have to keep watch over his healing in the following days.

  In that time, how would she prevent herself from this anguished mixture of seething distrust and painful attraction? Could she really just hold herself to being his temporary nurse when she wanted to fight him or…kiss him?