Duty And Passion In The Highlands: A Scottish Medieval Historical Highlander Collection

by Adamina Young

  “I’m fine, Mammy,” she replied wearily. “Please do not fuss.”

  Kenneth came to lean over and kiss her. “Did Arthur do this to my daughter?” he growled. “I am going to do something about that creature!”

  “No, Paw!” She sounded angry. “Another horse came out in front of him and he reared just enough to throw me off. It was not his fault.”

  “How are you feeling?” Margaret asked anxiously.

  “I am well enough, Mammy.” Malle was beginning to become annoyed. Her headache was beginning to return now that she was being assailed with questions, and she lay back on her pillow with her eyes closed, wishing everyone would go away. She noticed that Craig was gone too, probably supposing that Malle would want some privacy to talk to her parents.

  “Why are you on this side of the Cut, Malle?” Kenneth asked, mystified. “How many times do you need to be told not to come here?”

  Malle turned her head away, closing her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was go into a detailed explanation of all Donnan’s letters and why she had to see Craig, and the ensuing battle in which a man was killed.

  At that moment however, salvation arrived in the form of Jessie, who came in bearing a strong cup of willow bark tea. She curtsied to Laird and Lady MacEwan and greeted them politely, then bent down to feel Malle’s forehead.

  “M’laird, Milady,” she said, “sometimes there is a wee bit o’ fever after a blow tae the head. The mistress needs her rest, but I will sit wi’ her, dinnae fash yersel’.”

  Margaret looked doubtfully at Kenneth, but they could see the wisdom of Jessie’s words, so they each kissed Malle and turned to leave.

  “I will be back to check on her soon,” Margaret warned.

  “As ye wish, Milady,” Jessie replied, smiling at her kindly.

  As soon as the door was closed, Malle opened one eye. “Is she gone?” she whispered.

  “Aye,” Jessie replied briskly. “Noo dinnae get a’ excited,” she warned. “Ye’ve got a wee bit fever, but the tea should take care o’ that.”

  Just then, Craig edged his way around the door. “Are you still not feeling well?” he asked, concerned.

  “She has a fever,” Jessie said firmly. “An’ she is gaun’ back tae sleep. I jist chased her maw an’ paw oot the door. Go on, get oot!”

  “A fever?” Craig asked, frowning. “Is she alright?”

  “I am fine, I only have a headache,” she replied. “I am going to rest for a little while and then join you. Give yourself peace, lovie. I will be down soon.”

  He kissed her softly. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you too.” She smiled. “I always will.”

  Didnae realize he wis as smitten as a’ that! Jessie thought in amazement. This would make wonderful gossip with her friends for a rainy evening!

  Craig limped downstairs to find his father and the MacEwans sitting beside the fire drinking spiced ale and giving every appearance that they were enjoying each other’s company. His father, not usually so outgoing, seemed to be going out of his way to charm Margaret, but although she was trying to be polite, he could see that she was anxious, and her mind was far away. Kenneth had a protective arm around her.

  He watched the three of them for a moment, wondering why the feud had gone on for so long. It seemed that only Isobell and Donnan had tried to put an end to it, but this time it would be Malle and Craig’s turn, and they would not just try, but succeed.

  Craig drew in a deep breath and limped into the room, smiling broadly. “Good evening, M’laird, Milady,” he said politely, bowing over Margaret’s hand and kissing it. “It is so good to see you again.” He thought briefly that Donnan must have felt like this when he entered the lion’s den.

  Margaret would have begged him to tell her everything, but Kenneth gently restrained her by squeezing her arm.

  “Are you ready to tell us what happened?” Kenneth asked. “While Malle is sleeping?”

  Craig sighed. “It is not a pretty tale,” he began, “so yes, let me tell you while she is not here. I doubt she will want to relive it. I know you have been wondering what happened to us. Fortunately neither of us is badly injured, but it could have been much worse. Alan Bruce is dead—wait, Father.” He held up his hand as Malcolm tried to speak. “He is the cause of all the unrest that has been going on here.”

  “I would rather sit with Malle for a while,” Margaret announced. “Kenneth can tell me later.” She left the room hastily.

  “This injury of mine was caused by a knife being driven into my foot,” Craig began, “but it is not as bad as it looks. But Jessie, who put the bandage on, always says that if a job is worth doing it is worth doing well, and here is the result!” He had tried to begin on a lighthearted note but neither of the lairds smiled. “I am going to have to go back two hundred years to get to the beginning of the story, so I would be grateful if neither of you interrupted. It began with Isobell MacEwan and Donnan Dunbar…”

  He went on to tell the story in as much detail as he could, and ended at the very moment when he and Malle had ridden into Dunbar Castle. “...the rest you know,” he ended, then went to get himself a tumbler of whisky. Reliving the events of the day had brought everything back vividly, and he felt rather shaky inside.

  “Your ordeal sounds absolutely terrifying,” Malcom remarked, his eyes wide with horror. “Poor Isobell...as for Alan Bruce, the wolves are welcome to him. You did well to kill him Craig.”

  “Craig-” said Kenneth with trembling voice “You saved Malle’s life! If you had not been there she would have been dead. I can never thank you enough.” Kenneth’s voice was husky with emotion. He loved his daughter more than anything. “We will spend the rest of our lives repaying you.”

  “I could not have let Malle die. I could not let that happen,” Craig answered. “No man could.”

  Malcolm looked at Kenneth. “Perhaps...you would both like to stay for dinner? We are quite plain eaters, but you are welcome to whatever we have.”

  Kenneth thought for a second.

  “We will be pleased to,” Kenneth replied. “I will be honored to sit with the man who saved my daughter’s life.”

  * * *

  Suddenly Kenneth realised he was feeling very stupid. And blind. It was as if the answer was in front of him all this time and he ignored it. These two men he hated… they did not actually seem like bad people.

  * * *

  All these years of fighting were based on lies.

  18

  Their Blessing

  Margaret found Malle asleep when she went in to see her, with the wise woman sitting with her. She was sewing what looked like a little baby garment.

  “How is she?” Margaret whispered.

  “Sleepin’ like a babby, Milady,” Jessie answered. “She will be fine in a wee while.”

  Margaret sat down and took out her rosary beads, then began to pray silently for Malle’s recovery. She finished telling the beads then looked at Jessie’s sewing. “Who is the dress for?” she asked, as she fingered the little white garment.

  “My newest grandchild,” Jessie replied, smiling. “My fifth.”

  “You are so fortunate!” Margaret laughed enviously. “I hope to be a grandmother one day, but I doubt it will be soon.”

  Maybe sooner than ye think, Milady! Jessie thought.

  Just then, Malle’s eyelids fluttered open and she looked at Margaret. She smiled drowsily as her mother hugged her.

  “I had better get up if we are going home,” she said groggily.

  “I think you are staying here tonight,” Margaret said, kissing her forehead. “And so am I.”

  “I want to get up and eat dinner,” Malle said suddenly as she threw back her blankets. “I am starving!”

  “Eat it in bed, Mistress,” Jessie pleaded.

  “I am fine, Jessie,” Malle said stubbornly.

  Against Jessie’s dire warnings, Margaret pinned up her hair, then Malle put on a plain gray dress and sh
awl. She had no one to impress anymore; Craig was hers. She smiled as she looked into her polished bronze hand mirror and decided that she looked acceptable.

  Her mother was more enthusiastic. Margaret smiled and hugged her. “Darling, you would look good in a sack!” She laughed.

  “Mind,” Jessie warned, “if ye dinnae feel well, back up here wi’ ye. Between you an’ thon Craig, ye’ve got my heart roastit!”

  Malle laughed. Jessie came out with the most expressive sayings: “A bag of cats” when a person was grumpy, “My heart roasted” when she was very worried. However, she was still the wisest wise woman Malle had ever met, and the sweetest.

  When they walked into the parlor Kenneth rushed up to hug her again.

  “Paw, don’t squeeze me!” she moaned, pushing her father away.

  “Sorry, darling, I forgot.” He looked into Malle’s eyes, noting the bruise that was turning a painful shade of purple. “You have been through the wars, have you not? Craig has been telling us the whole story. You are lucky to be alive!”

  “Indeed I am.” Malle took a glass of wine from Malcolm and sipped it, but when she raised her eyes again she was looking, not at her father, but at Craig.

  Margaret followed the direction of her eyes and understood at once, and Craig was gazing at Malle with such love that it was impossible not to see it.

  “Mammy, Paw,” she said softly, not taking her eyes off Craig, “this is why I was coming here. To see the man I love.”

  “Do you feel the same, Craig?” Kenneth asked in amazement.

  Craig nodded. “Malle is the love of my life,” he replied as he bent down to kiss her softly. She was so small that her head fit neatly under his chin, and she allowed him to hold her gently while she sighed and closed her eyes in sheer contentment. Of all the places in the world, this was where she most wanted to be.

  Kenneth looked on in amazement, then turned to his wife. “Did you know, Margaret?” he asked.

  “I knew that they were fond of each other.” She shook her head in

  disbelief. “But not like this!”

  Malcolm was smiling roguishly. “I knew that when this big lump could not keep a smile off his face, or his mind on anything for longer than a few moments, that he was smitten with someone!”

  “Come and sit down,” Craig said, smiling as he guided Malle into the dining room. “Malle and I have some things we would like to say to you.”

  Craig limped and Malle walked beside him as they went in to eat. Malle started to laugh. “Craig, my love, can you not get Jessie to unwind a few hundred yards of that bandage? You look as though you have a club foot.”

  “Jessie is a small woman, is she not?” he asked.

  Malle frowned. “Yes, smaller than I am. Why?”

  “And are you not a small woman too?” he suggested.

  “Yes.” She was deeply puzzled now. “What does this mean?”

  “Small women have power over me,” he answered with a perfectly straight face.

  “Then I am exercising my power and telling you to remove those bandages!” She laughed, and he joined in.

  “It is going to be wonderful being married to you,” Craig murmured, then he looked up at their parents and got to his feet awkwardly, feeling a little self-conscious. “We have something to ask you,” he announced. “This is going to be a bit of a shock for you all. Would anyone object if Malle and I got married?”

  There was a collective gasp, and complete silence for a moment as Malcolm, Margaret, and Kenny thought through the implications of this.

  “If you do not allow us to marry,” Craig went on, without waiting for an answer, “we will do it anyway. We just wanted your blessing, because we can go somewhere else to do it, where no one knows us.”

  Margaret looked at her daughter and saw the light of determination in her eyes. She would do it, too. She really loves him.

  “And you will not see your grandchildren,” Malle pointed out.

  Margaret’s heart leapt into her throat. “You are not with child?” Her eyes were wide with fear.

  “No Mammy,” Malle replied frowning. “Give yourself peace. Craig and I have always acted honorably.”

  “But there will be grandchildren, Milady,” Craig said firmly, looking lovingly at Malle.

  “And you will marry without our blessing, whatever we say?” Malcolm asked.

  “We will, M’laird,” Malle assured him. “As soon as we can.”

  Malcolm, Margaret, and Kenneth looked at each other.

  “I am not sure about this,” Margaret said softly. She stood up and Kenneth followed her to a small table under the window, then Malcolm joined them.

  Kenneth began “So we all know this in imposib—”

  “I think we should give them our blessing,” Malcom said, his voice firm and determined. “I have come to know Malle a little, and I can see that she is a very determined young woman. I know that Craig is determined too, but you can see that he adores her. They are asking us out of respect. They really do not need our blessing.”

  “But she is still so young...our families...we do not even know each other. What will people say? Our clans are enemies!” Margaret was almost weeping.

  She was mainly afraid that Kenneth would never agree.

  “Margaret.” Kenneth took her shoulders and turned her to face him. He paused and looked at her for a moment. “I do not want to lose my daughter. The thought of losing her would kill me. This marriage is not what I hoped for but you said it yourself. Malle has deep feelings for Craig. I am afraid they are not gampbling. If we do not allow this marriage I do not know if she will obey us. And if she does, we will not be happy as we are now. She will be resentful. ”

  He took a deep breath. “But I also do not know if our people can accept that. We have been enemies with the Dunbars for so long...”

  Margaret looked over to where Craig and Malle were tenderly looking into each other’s eyes, and it was clear at that moment that Malle would do anything for that man.

  “If we give our blessing,” Kenneth said, as they all walked back to the dining table, “you know that this will mean the end of the feud. What will people say?” He sounded terrified.

  “Indeed,” Malcolm agreed, nodding. “The Dunbars and the MacEwans at peace? It is not natural! Our people will not accept it, Craig. What will you do?”

  Then Craig replied, “Shall we try it? This partnership will do a great deal of good not only to us but to our people as well. Working together we could achieve a great deal. Yes, it will be strange at first, but when people have their children fed and their houses prospering, they will forget all about the hate.”

  Malcolm thought about this for a moment. “Indeed,” he said thoughtfully, stroking his beard. “I would like to see the fine ram you were telling me about Kenneth.”

  “And you have the great bull who has sired hundreds of fine calves,” Kenneth agreed. “We could build up two fine herds between us. Our people will surely not oppose that.”

  There was one more moment of hesitation from Kenneth. He looked at Craig and he knew that him and Malcom were both already old. The new Laird had decided their fate and he had a strong woman by his side. The responsibility was now on their hands.

  “Why not Malcom?” he replied feeling like a huge burden was lifted off of his shoulders.

  Both lairds had an excuse for each other, as they did it for their children. And they also had an excuse for their people. The clans would be much more powerful if they cooperated and most people would forget all about the freud if that meant better prospects and food for their children. For the ones that were still unsure there was Craig. Now with more power under his hand there would be hard to find a man to oppose him.

  They reached across the table and for the first time in over two hundred years, a MacEwan and a Dunbar joined hands in friendship.

  “Do you get the feeling that we are being regarded as livestock?” Malle laughed as they sat in the parlor drinking mulled wine before go
ing to bed. “A ram and ewe breeding the next generation?”

  Malcolm was giving Kenneth and Margaret a tour of the castle, but Craig and Malle were glad to be alone for a while. She was leaning her head on his shoulder, and the nightmare events of the past few days were so distant that they seemed to have happened to someone else.

  “Hmmm…” Craig thought for a moment, then laughed. “Perhaps, but you cannot blame them, Malle. So many new opportunities have opened up for all of us now, especially since our fathers have started talking about building a bridge over the Cut. The future is bright for all of us.”

  “And our children,” she murmured, then yawned.

  “And a young Isobell must come as soon as possible!” Craig declared. “I am not a patient man!”

  “What if it’s a Donnan?” Malle asked, laughing.

  “Then we will send him back,” Craig murmured, laughing. “Come here, you gorgeous woman. I need to kiss you again or I will die.” Then he folded his arms around her and kissed her so gently it was as though a feather were blowing across her lips. He smoothed his big rough hand over her silky hair and she sighed into his mouth.

  When he tried to draw away she put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him back again, and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure. This time it was deep, passionate, and fierce; their tongues stroking, lips caressing until they were both breathless. When she finally let him go he shook his head in disbelief.

  “When I first met you I thought you had a fiery temper.” He laughed. “I didn’t realize you had fiery lips too. My mouth is on fire!”

  She giggled, and buried her head in his chest again, inhaling the warm musk of his skin which was better than any perfume she had ever smelled before.

  Presently the lairds and Margaret came back and sat with them, and after two hundred years of hostility, the Dunbars and MacEwans were at last finding out about each other, realizing that they had many things in common which they had never known before. For example, Malcolm had a sister who was also called Margaret. “In fact,” he laughed, “I have five sisters—Margaret, Mary, Minette, Maureen, and Mazey. And I am Malcolm, which is why Craig is not called Munro!”