Highlander’s Tempted Guard (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance)

by Adamina Young

  Fiona nodded once. “Thank ‘e Uncle.”

  “Ye’re welcome Niece.”

  She turned around and walked off, shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “There is something strange aboot this engagement. Wha’ is th’ rush?” Daividh downed his ale as he complained to his friend Simon, a Campbell from up north.

  “Why d’ye even care? ’Tis none o’ yer business.”

  Daividh snorted. “Perhaps it isnae but…” He shook his head, contemplating his tankard. “I cannae help but feel consairned.”

  Simon leaned forward, his elbows on the table, grinning at Daividh. “Consairn eh? I havenae seen ye sae...consairned frae anyone since I’ve kenned ye.”

  Daividh glared at him and took another swig of his drink. “Alrigh’ then, I may have a wee bit o’ a...uh, tendresse frae the lassie.”

  Simon threw back his head and laughed. “Ye’re nae this much o’ a fool, Campbell. Ye ken better than this.”

  Daividh nodded sadly. “Aye, I do. Yet, here I am.” He spread his hands out helplessly.

  Simon sobered at once, his brow furrowing. “What will ye do then? Will ye elope? Ye could run off wi’ her.”

  Daividh laughed scornfully. “What d’ye think this is? A fable frae the bairns?”

  Simon sighed. “Dinnae take yer ire oot on me, Campbell. I was just tryin’ tae help.”

  Daividh closed his eyes and deflated. “Forgive me. I am nae in the best temper.”

  “Aye. Falling in love and finding oot yer lassie is slated tae marry someone else cannae be easy.”

  “Nae, it isnae. Can we cease talking aboot this now? It isnae helping.”

  “Aye, alright.”

  They drank in silence for a while.

  “But what d’ye think is strange aboot it?”

  Daividh lifted an eyebrow.

  “Ye said there was something strange aboot the engagement,” Simon clarified.

  “Oh, aye. I tried tae speak tae the laird aboot it but he acted as if he was helpless. As if the marriage was oot o’ his hands. D’ye think that Laird Hunter has his foot on the McCormick’s neck?”

  Simon leaned forward, looking interested. “Ye think sae? And what can we do tae find oot?”

  Daividh sighed. “I dinnae ken.” He smirked. “Listen at doors?”

  “We could talk to Hunter’s men. They might ken something.”

  Daividh perked up at once. “Aye. We can start there. Guid idea Simon.”

  “The question is, what will we do wi’ the knowledge when we have it?”

  Daividh glared. “One step at a time, Simon.”

  Fiona had changed into her brown utilitarian gown and gone out into the garden to see if she could help with the gardening. Julieta was in the kitchen, getting acquainted with the other servants and trying to discover the lay of the land. Fiona meant to speak with the other wives and sisters, to try and get a sense of what they thought of the Laird of Glendale, and maybe she might have an idea of how to handle her upcoming nuptials. If she also asked about Daividh Campbell and how he was regarded, that was nobody’s business but hers. She tried to be as discreet as possible but several of the women gave her knowing looks.

  “He is savendie, tha’ one. Did he no bring ye safe frae Braenaird?”

  “Aye. He did.”

  The woman smiled. Fiona knew that she was sister to one of the crofters and she did not like the look of affection she had in her eyes when she spoke of Daividh. She made Fiona want to ask just how well the girl knew him, although she knew it was none of her business.

  “Miss Douglass!” She looked up to see the laird of Glendale standing on the edge of the field, glaring at her. “What are ye up tae, doing peasants’ work? Come awa’ frae there at once. No wife o’ mine is gonny work like a serf.”

  Fiona stood frozen, feeling embarrassed to have been spoken to in such a way in front of the other women who were undoubtedly the serfs Mr. Hunter was referring to. He lifted his hand and gestured impatiently for her to go to him. “Come the noo, Miss Douglass. What are ye waiting for?”

  Someone touched her hand and she looked down to see the woman she’d been speaking to, sympathy in her eyes. She squeezed Fiona’s hand and then removed the small shovel from her hand. “Ye should go,” she whispered.

  Fiona nodded woodenly and jerkily began to make her way to the edge of the field. She felt the burning sensation of eyes upon her and turned her head to see Daividh glaring from the other side of the field, his hand on his sword. She hesitated, staring at him as he stared back.

  “Miss Douglass!” Mr Hunter called sharply and she jumped, and resumed walking. She could not help sneaking glances at Daividh, who stood straight and thunderous, like the wrath of God. Her hand was grabbed painfully at the wrist and she made a sound of distress. From her periphery, she saw Daividh start towards them looking as if he wanted to grab her wrist out of Laird Hunter’s hand.

  The laird turned, dragging her along behind him, looking annoyed. “Ye must learn yer place young lady. Ye cannae be running wild anymore. No wife o’ mine will behave in such a manner.”

  “I am not yet yer wife!” Fiona spat.

  He stopped short, so fast that she almost ran into him. He turned to face her, his face hot and red with anger. “I beg yer pardon?”

  “I said...I am not yet yer wife. So I will thank ‘e no tae manhandle me.”

  9

  Complications

  Daividh’s legs were eating up the distance separating him from Fiona even as he told himself that it was none of his business how she and her betrothed chose to act around each other. The problem was that the way Fiona held herself when the laird called out to her said to him that she was afraid. He was as incapable of ignoring that as he was of making himself stop breathing.

  He followed them as the laird dragged her away from the field and towards the inner courtyard of the castle where his fellow soldiers were sparring; the loud clashing of steel and shouts of disparagement preventing them from noticing the couple’s progress.

  It also covered the loud sound of his own angry footsteps as he chased after them. They both disappeared beneath the awning and into the archway that led to the back corridor on the ground floor of the castle. He was about to follow them when a hand stopped him cold. He looked down at the arm circling his waist and then up into the face of his friend.

  “Simon, what are ye doing?”

  “What are ye doing? That girl doesnae belong tae ye even if’n ye think she should.”

  Daividh opened his mouth to protest and then closed it when he realized there was nothing to say.

  Simon watched his face and nodded when he saw the truth of his situation dawn. “Aye. Ye mun’ go canny mo charaid.”

  Daividh nodded ruefully. “I ken tha’. I just saw red when he grabbed her. He twisted her arm. But ye cannae—”

  “Nae.” Simon shook his head. “There’s nought to say ‘but’ aboot.”

  Daividh sighed with frustration, looking towards the awning where Fiona and Laird Hunter had disappeared. “I cannae just…”

  “Aye, but go canny.” Daividh met Simon’s eyes and nodded and his friend nodded back before removing his detaining hand from Daividh’s waist. The warrior strode down the corridor, his eyes searching for Fiona. He turned the corner and stopped short, having come face to face with Laird Hunter.

  “Ye’re the sellsword who went tae pick up my bride,” Hunter said.

  Daividh inclined his head in agreement.

  “Why are ye following us?”

  “Ye’re mistaken. I havenae been following anyone.”

  “Dinnae think I dinnae see ye across the field, watching my bride. Again I ask ye, what d’ye want wi’ her?”

  “I dinnae ken what ye want frae me, sir. I havenae been watching yer bride nor have I been following ye.” Daividh turned and walked back the way he had come, feeling some relief that Fiona was no longer with Hunter. He decided to head to the kitchens and find her maid. She would be able t
o keep a better eye on Fiona than Daividh could.

  Hunter burst into the laird’s study, his face like thunder. “What are ye doing?” he demanded, looming over McCormick.

  The other laird furrowed his brow. “What are ye on aboot now?”

  “That lad who follows my betrothed around like a bee after honey. Did ye put him up tae it?” His eyes were bulging out of his reddened face as he stared daggers at McCormick.

  The laird shook his head, “I havenae sent anyone after Fiona. Why should I?”

  “Ye might want tae betray me, dinnae deny it!”

  “Ye’re demented. Why would I do tha’? I have as much tae lose as ye. Perhaps more.”

  “Aye, ye do. And dinnae ye forget tha’.”

  “How can I when ye haud it ower my head at every point?”

  “I wouldnae have tae do that if’n ye didnae try to thwart me at every turn!”

  “That’s because ye’re capernoitie. I havenae gone behind yer back at any time or attempted tae thwart ye in any way.”

  “So ye say, but then every time I turn around, there’s the sellsword hovering ower my bride, making cow eyes at her. If’n ye’re truly not tae blame for it, ye better do something aboot it.”

  McCormick nodded. “Aye, I will.”

  He straightened up and walked out.

  Daividh faded into the shadows behind a pillar as the laird stumbled down the corridor, his mind churning at the conversation he had just heard.

  Hunter is blackmailing McCormick? What could Hunter be holding over him?

  He was so caught up in his musings that he failed to hear the laird emerge from his study.

  “Campbell! What are ye doing here?”

  Daividh jumped, turning to face his laird. “Uh...I was waiting for ye. I wanted tae speak tae ye.”

  McCormick regarded him suspiciously. “What did ye want tae speak tae me aboot?”

  Daividh sighed with resignation, deciding to tell the truth. “Shall we go into yer study then?”

  McCormick stepped back into the room and gestured for him to follow.

  Daividh walked into the room, all the while wondering what he was going to say.

  “Weel then Campbell? What is it ye want?”

  “I…” Daividh hesitated, not knowing where to start.

  “Ye were listening at keyholes were ye no?” McCormick’s tone was wry but his face was annoyed.

  “Aye well...I dinnae mean tae. The other laird left the door slightly ajar. I was merely passing by.”

  “Mmm.” McCormick nodded skeptically.

  “What is he holding ower ye?”

  McCormick laughed. “And why should I tell ye?”

  “Mayhaps I can help.”

  The laird threw back his head and guffawed even louder. “Ye? A lowly sellsword? Help me?”

  Daividh exhaled loudly through his nose in annoyance. “Well, it doesnae seem as if ye can help yersel’ so why don’t ye let this lowly sellsword help ye?”

  McCormick shook his head. “Ye cannae help me. Nobody can.”

  Daividh considered him critically. “Ye’re niece’s life may weel depend on this. A man who would blackmail to acquire a wife cannae be trusted wi’ her care.”

  The McCormick closed his eyes, his face looking much older than it had before. “I have tae trust that he will.”

  “Why? Why mun’ ye trust? Why can ye nae protect her from him? Let me help ye. Tell me what the man has ower ye.”

  “I will ask ye tae leave me in peace Campbell and ye shallnae breathe a word o’ this tae anyone.” The McCormick opened his eyes. “Ye will gie me yer word.”

  Daividh just blinked at him. “I cannae do tha’. She needs our help.”

  “She?” The McCormick leaned forward in his chair. “And by ‘she’ ye mean my niece? What is yer interest in her? Declare yersel’ Campbell.”

  Daividh drew a breath. “Nae interest save a wish tae see her happy. I couldnae help but bear a fond regard frae her after our journey together. She is an enchanting lassie as ye weel ken.”

  The other man got to his feet, leaning across the table to glare at Daividh’s taller form. “Ye dinnae touch my niece did ye?”

  Daividh reared back, genuinely surprised that the laird would even think that. “O’ course not. What d’ye take me for?”

  “I take ye for a man who finds my niece enchanting. Who seeks tae break up her advantageous union wi’ a guid man for ye’re own ends. Do ye deny this?”

  “O’ course I do! I have nae ill intention. Simply the need tae see her happy.”

  The McCormick pointed at the door. “Get oot o’ my study afore I am tempted tae throw ye oot o’ my castle.”

  Daividh opened his mouth to protest but then, wisely, closed it again. He simply nodded and left, feeling his heart sink with despair. Fiona would marry the laird and go away to Glendale where Daividh would likely never see her again. Whatever Hunter chose to do with her once he had her, there would be no one to object.

  The very thought had him gnashing his teeth.

  I must do something!

  He paced along the corridor, thinking hard as his feet carried him inadvertently to Fiona’s door. He came to a stop, staring at it, only just then realizing where his feet had taken him. Lifting a hand, he knocked softly on the door.

  “Who is it?” Julieta’s voice called.

  “’Tis I, Daividh Campbell.”

  The door opened a sliver and Julieta’s head poked out. “What are ye doing here?”

  “I need tae speak wi’ yer lady. Can ye tell me where she is?”

  “I dinnae ken. Ye shouldnae be trying to talk to her on yer own, should ye? She is promised elsewhere.”

  “Let him in, Julieta,” another voice called from inside even as Daividh opened his mouth to argue. The maid sighed but widened the gap in the doorway so that he could just slip through.

  “If’n the laird hears o’ this we shall be in a world o’ trouble,” she grumbled to the room at large. Fiona sat in the high-backed wooden chair, a book in her lap, staring up at Daividh. He took his chance to look his fill, meeting her eyes boldly. She blinked a few times and looked away.

  “What do ye want, Daividh?”

  He looked to Julieta, wondering if he could ask her to leave but the manner in which she folded her arms and looked mutinous told him without words that that was a lost cause. He sighed with resignation and moved closer to Fiona.

  “How is yer hand? Did he hurt ye?” He bent down and picked it up from her lap. There was a faint bruise around her wrist as if someone had gripped it too hard. Daividh growled deep in his chest.

  “I am fine. Dinnae fash,” Fiona said quietly.

  Daividh stepped backward and sat on the bed, letting his hands dangle off his knees and hanging his head in despair. “Ye’re nae fine. Please dinnae lie tae me. There are enough lies swirling aboot in this castle wi’out us adding tae them.”

  She raised an eyebrow looking surprised. “I’m nae lying. He scared me a wee bit but he dinnae hurt me.”

  Daividh raised his head to look her in the eye. “Why are ye marrying him? Why him and not...somebody else?”

  She smiled sadly. “Do ye ken I asked my uncle that same question no too long ago? He said that marriage is aboot political alliances and protection, nae love or happiness. He believes Mr. Hunter will afford me the greatest protection.”

  “Against whom?”

  Fiona shrugged. “Other suitors I suppose. Greedy ones.”

  Daividh violently expelled his breath through his nose, looking away from her. “What if he is the one who’s greedy? What if he is the one ye need protectin’ from?”

  “My uncle would never put me in such a situation.”

  Daividh shot to his feet and lunged forward. He picked up her wrist and shook it in her face. “He already has!” He stared bleakly at her, red-faced, a vein throbbing visibly in his temple. Fiona stared at him with wide eyes.

  “Let me go,” she said.

  He droppe
d her wrist at once and went back to sit on the bed, covering his head with his hands. “My apologies. I dinnae mean tae scare ye.”

  There was a pregnant pause in the room.

  “Ye dinnae scare me,” Fiona said quietly. Daividh dared to look up to see her gazing placidly at him while Julieta stood behind her chair and glowered. He almost laughed at the picture they made but stopped himself. It would not do to have Fiona thinking he was mad.

  “Fiona…” he whispered.

  She leaned forward in her chair. “Yes, Daividh?”

  “I have something...I have tae tell ye. Ye willnae like it.”

  “Aye, is that so? What is it then?”

  He sighed tiredly, shaking his head. “Ye’re uncle dinnae act in yer best interest when he sold ye tae Hunter. He acted in his. Hunter is blackmailing him.”

  She blinked at him as if waiting for his assertion that he was joking. When he said nothing more her jaw fell open and she gaped. “Ye’re serious?”

  “Aye. I’m afraid so.”

  “Why d’ye think that?”

  He told her about passing the laird’s study and the conversation he had heard. She listened raptly, not interrupting or asking any questions. He wondered if she was indulging him.

  “Ye do believe me, do ye no?” he asked when he was done.

  She stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “Aye. I think I do.”

  10

  Decisions, Decisions

  “What d’ye really think, Lady Fiona?”

  Julieta watched her mistress pace once the warrior had left the room, her face agitated, fingers working at a non-existent knot in her gown.

  “Think about what?” Lady Fiona’s tone was abstracted and she avoided Julieta’s eyes. She knew full well what her lady’s maid was asking but she clearly did not want to answer.

  “D’ye think yer uncle is selling ye doon the river?” That got Lady Fiona to stop pacing if only to direct a poisonous glare at Julieta.

  “I think that…whatever my uncle thinks he’s doing, he should ha’ discussed it wi’ me first.”