Highlander 0f The Woods (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Alisa Adams

  The coolness between Rory and Vanora was hurting her. She thought of their kiss often and relived it at odd moments during the day and every night before she went to sleep. When they went riding he spoke only when she talked to him, and the whole exercise had ceased to be a pleasure and more of an activity that she resorted to in order to get out of the confines of the castle. However, she trusted no one but Rory, so she endured the awkward silences. As well as that, she just wanted to be near him, hoping that he would feel compelled to kiss her, as he had last time. But this time, to go on kissing her again and again. It was the stuff of her fantasies, but she clung onto the hope that one day it would happen.

  One day she saw him practicing with his sword in the courtyard. It was freezing, but he was stripped to the waist, and she stood admiring the size and strength of his muscles as they rippled under his skin. She felt sorry for the other guard who, as usual, was coming off worse until he finally lay on the stone floor with Rory’s sword at his throat. He pretended to be terrified and submit, then they laughed before Rory held out a hand and helped the other man to his feet.

  He picked up his shirt from the floor just as she walked up to him and looked up into his face with a puzzled expression.

  He bowed formally. “Milady,” he said politely.

  “Please come and see me when you are dressed,” she asked, trying to keep the usual distance between them. He nodded, and she went into the parlor. He came in a few minutes later wearing a fresh shirt and tunic. He bowed again, his handsome face expressionless.

  Vanora rose and shut the door of the parlor, then confronted him. Even though she was a tall woman, she had to tilt her head back at a steep angle to look into his eyes. “Why are you being so cold to me?” she asked. “Ever since you kissed me things have not been the same between us. We were friends, and now you barely speak to me.”

  He hesitated for a moment. “Milady, whatever happened between us was a mistake.” He sighed. “An’ it cannae be allowed tae happen again. I am a peasant an’ you are a lady.”

  She gazed up at him for a moment, her eyes lingering on his lips, then suddenly she reached up and pulled his head down to kiss her.

  For a few moments he responded, then suddenly he jerked away as if he had been stung, keeping her a few yards away from him by gripping her upper arms. He glared at her and she gazed at him helplessly before he let her go.

  “Milady,” he said dangerously. “I am no’ yer plaything an’ I owe ye nothing. If ye dae that again I will resign from yer service. I survived for a long time without ye an’ I can do so again. Good day, milady.” His face was a mask of rage as he turned and marched out.

  Vanora stood still for a long time looking at the closed door. Just for a second, she had thought that they were going to share another glorious kiss, but now she had ruined things completely. How was she even going to look at him now?

  Rory was doing guard duty on the upper battlements that day, and he was glad, even though the weather was cold and threatening to rain. He would not see Vanora again unless she came upstairs to him, and he doubted that would happen.

  As he looked out over the sea he reflected that less than three months ago he had been leading a peaceful, if hermit-like existence, content with his own company and the occasional visit to trade in Gairloch. He knew that the villagers thought of him as an oddity, a half-savage creature that spent his days chopping down trees and probably occupied his nights roaming the forests with the wolves. This was fanciful, of course, but he knew what their opinion of him was. His tranquil life had changed the moment he saw Vanora, but now it was too late to go back to the way things had been before.

  He was too much in love.

  Vanora’s heart was in her mouth when she received the summons from Daniel McKay. The mourning period had ended two days before, and she had still not heard a word. Now she was bracing herself for a confrontation, and her feet were dragging as she went to his study. He looked up and smiled at her as she came in, seemingly delighted to see her.

  “You look beautiful as usual, Vanora,” he remarked, looking her up and down appreciatively. “But why are you still wearing black? You can begin to wear bright colors again or perhaps purple or gray if you are not ready, but black?” He tut-tutted disapprovingly, shaking his head.

  “I will go into half-mourning when I feel the time is right, Uncle,” she said firmly. “That time is not yet, although my sisters have done so, but that is their decision and they have minds of their own. What do you have to tell me?”

  He gave her a beaming smile. “I have found you a husband,” he said smugly.

  She frowned. “You mean you have found someone for me to meet,” she said carefully, “so that I can make a choice?” Her heart was hammering, and she had a premonition of something catastrophic coming her way.

  He shook his head. “No, Vanora. I have found you a husband.” His tone was grim, but he seemed pleased with himself, as if he had won a little victory.

  “But we agreed that the final decision would be mine!” she cried indignantly. “You promised not to impose your choice on me.”

  “No, Vanora,” Daniel replied, his brow creasing into a dangerous glare. “You said that. I am not going to argue with you. My decision is made and it is final.”

  Vanora sat back and folded her arms, the light of battle in her eyes. “I will meet him,” she said grimly, “but if he is not to my liking you must find me someone else. Remember that I call you ‘Uncle’ out of respect, but I am losing respect for you by the moment!”

  “No.” He stood up. “Accept my decision or I will leave and you can run the castle and the estate on your own, Vanora. Believe me, I can find employment in any number of places. The choice is yours, but what will happen to your sisters if there is only a naïve seventeen-year-old who is barely more than a child herself to look after them?”

  Her heart plummeted. Even with the help of her capable staff she had no hope of coping unaided. It was too big a burden for her slender shoulders to bear, which slumped in defeat as her heart sank.

  “You are right, Uncle,” she sighed. “I have no choice but to accede to your wishes. Is he a laird?”

  “Only the younger one,” Daniel said. “He will be officially a laird proper when his father dies, but it will happen much more quickly when he marries you.”

  Vanora’s eyes flashed with anger. She was outraged, beyond furious, but there was nothing she could do. She was helpless and afraid, and no one was going to rescue her.

  She could see Daniel’s eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “When will I meet him?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

  “We will travel to his home the day after tomorrow,” her uncle answered. “His name is Laird Hugh Devine the Younger.” He placed his hand over hers on the table. “Cheer up, Milady Vanora! You have done the right thing, and you will like him, I promise; he is a very pleasant fellow.”

  “I will try,” she said sadly before taking her leave.

  As she left, Daniel smiled with smug satisfaction. Everything was going according to plan.

  9

  Despite her emotional turmoil and the hostility between them, Vanora insisted on going out riding with Rory the next day. Whatever the strained atmosphere that existed between them, it was bearable compared to the sight of her so-called uncle strutting all over the castle as if he were its rightful owner. She did not merely dislike him now; she loathed him. He made her flesh creep, but what angered and hurt her most was that she had trusted him implicitly and he had betrayed her.

  When Rory and Vanora rode out the next morning it was in the usual silence, which was less uncomfortable now since she had become accustomed to it.

  I suppose you can get used to anything given time, she thought miserably, her mind going towards her future husband. I only hope he is not too hideous. She had promised to try to make the marriage work and she would, but she did not have to be happy about it.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she
could see Rory staring straight ahead, but as if she had willed it, he turned to face her. For a moment they gazed at each other just for the pleasure of it, then Rory said, “I am very sorry, milady.”

  “About our quarrel?” she asked. She wanted there to be clarity between them, with no room for misunderstandings.

  He nodded. “Aye, it was stupid o’ me tae get so angry over such a wee thing.”

  “It was stupid of me to kiss you.” Her voice was very quiet and very sad. There was silence between them for a little while, but for the first time in ages, it was not an unpleasant one.

  “I got angry because before I met ye, I had a very peaceful life, but no’ anymore.”

  “Because of me?” she asked. “Because you killed those men?”

  He shook his head. “What ye have done tae my life is bad,” he replied, “but good as well. You have made me think about what is important tae me. I loved my auld life, an’ I still do, but can I spend the rest o’ my life bein’ a woodcutter?” He shook his head. “I would like tae be more.”

  “Could you not be a husband again?” she asked gently.

  “Are ye askin’ me tae marry ye?” he laughed. “Because I am only a peasant, milady, an’ I cannae give ye a’ the comforts ye are accustomed to. No, I do not think I am destined tae be a husband again, milady.”

  “Not even if you met someone you loved?” she asked softly. “And who loved you in return? I am sure there is someone out there for you.”

  He shrugged. “Aye, maybe ye are right,” he acknowledged.

  “Do not worry,” she said soothingly. “I was not talking about myself.” Then she gave a bitter little laugh. “Anyway, Uncle Daniel has found a husband for me. I am to meet him next week.”

  He was stunned. At that moment he reminded himself how well the isolation was working for him. Getting close to other people will eventually hurt you somehow. He felt like a fool that he had broken the silent pack he had made with himself years ago.

  “Then I wish ye much joy, Vanora.” He felt an aching sadness since she had come to mean so much to him, but he managed to summon a happy smile for her. “You must be very excited.”

  “Not as much as you might think, Rory.” She smiled. “Because you see, women of the nobility are bought and sold like horses. We are nothing but broodmares, expected to pop out an heir, preferably more than one, and preferably boys, every few years, or better still every year. I would rather be a man or a poor woman than live like this. I have no idea who this creature is that they want me to wed, but all that I can hope for is that he is kind and not too ugly.” She had begun to weep silently and reined in her horse.

  Rory dismounted too, then went over to her and lifted her out of the saddle. He placed her a few feet away from himself but he was startled when she threw herself into his arms anyway, and he folded them around her. He loved to feel that he was protecting her and that she needed and depended on him. It made him feel strong, proud, and supremely masculine, but he could not protect her from her destiny; that was in God’s hands.

  Presently she stopped weeping and looked up at him, and for a moment time stood still.

  Rory would have given everything he had to be able to kiss her but he would not allow himself to do so, knowing that once he started he would never be able to stop.

  Eventually, she stopped crying and he let her go.

  “I am sorry. I am making a fool of myself.”

  “Nae matter, milady,” he said, trying to sound unconcerned. “I have seen worse.”

  He led her back to the horses, then lifted her and placed her in the saddle before mounting his own horse. They rode in silence for a long while, but it was a comfortable silence now that the issues between them had been resolved.

  “I need to ask you something,” she said hesitantly.

  “Aye?” he smiled at her. “Ye can ask me anything, Venora, ye know that. What is it?”

  “They are sending me to a place a few miles away,” she replied. “That is where the man I am marrying lives. I want to ask if I can take you with me. If you would like to come with me, that is, because I do not trust anyone else to protect me.”

  “Are your sisters comin’ too?” he asked doubtfully. “I would no’ like tae think o’ them alone.”

  “I have thought and thought about that ’til my head aches,” Vanora sighed. “If I leave them in Weir Brae Castle, they will have no protection at all unless you stay with them, so I think it is better that they come with me. I would feel safer that way.”

  “Then I will stay until ye are married,” he replied.

  She felt a shaft of disappointment pierce her. “No longer?”

  “I would love tae stay longer, but I have a feelin’ that Laird Devine will not welcome me.” He smiled grimly. “He will want tae appoint his own man.”

  She nodded to him and reached over to squeeze his hand for a moment. She frowned, really looking at the size of them for the first time. She put her own palm flat onto his, and her fingertips did not even come up to the first joint of his index finger. They were rough, like the bark of a birch tree, calloused by years of chafing.

  “So rough,” she remarked.

  “I have always chopped wood,” he said, laughing as he looked at her face. “Since I was a wee boy. I can lift logs, an’ build wooden houses an’ stone walls. I am no’ just a pretty face!”

  No, you are not, she thought. You are one of the most handsome men I have ever seen. She did not speak the thought aloud, however.

  Presently, they stopped at their favorite point on the ride, where the hill overlooked the sea. It was a hazy day, and the horizon was lost in the mist. He had once been out on a boat on a day like this, but it was not a day he liked to remember.

  Although it was freezing cold, Rory was warm. He would still see Vanora every day, he told himself, and still be useful to her. Perhaps, as she said, there was someone out there for him, but it would not be a highborn lady like Vanora. He often thought about holding her, just cuddling up in bed at night to share each others’ warmth and closeness, but those were merely fantasies and would have to remain that way.

  He was torturing himself. In a few days, Vanora would be Lady Devine, and she would be out of his reach forever, and that was as it should be. There would be other women, though; Vanora was not the only one in the world. He had thought that Elisaid was his one and only love, but there would be other Elisaids and other Vanoras. Vanora had only been a fantasy anyway; if he told himself enough times he might begin to believe it.

  “I have an awful feeling,” Vanora said suddenly, “that something terrible is going to happen.”

  Rory frowned and his heart began to hammer. He did not want to think of what he would do if anything happened to her. “What do ye mean, milady?” he asked. “Tae ye?”

  “I have no idea,” she said, shaking her head. “I have had it since Uncle Daniel told me I was going to be married and it scares me. It is like a heavy weight on my shoulders.”

  “It is just a notion.” His voice was soothing. “We a’ get them now an’ again, milady. I was scared tae death when I got married—I nearly ran out o’ the church. Ye are scared, o’ the big change that is comin’, that is a’.”

  She smiled at him. “You are so wise, Rory,” she said. “And you are right. I am likely worrying for nothing. You have done this before and I have not. I will come to you for advice from now on.” Her voice was light but her heart was heavy. Despite her brave words, she was still terrified, but mostly she was scared to death of losing Rory. She wished that he could claim her somehow.

  But she knew that that was only a fantasy and it would mean death for him. The cold hard reality was feeling like a nightmare she could not wake up from.

  10

  Vanora shivered uncontrollably as she sat between her two sisters in the carriage, partly from nerves, partly from the biting cold. It had snowed during the night and the carriage was moving very slowly, plowing through a four-inch-deep carpet of the e
vil white stuff. At the beginning of December, almost midwinter, the darkness fell in mid-afternoon, and Vanora hoped that they would get to her betrothed’s house before that, not because she was eager to meet him, but because it was preferable to the alternative, which was freezing to death.

  The windows were covered only by a thick sheet of linen, which let in the cold wind and the snowflakes, so she could not see Rory riding beside them, but knowing he was there gave her a feeling of comfort in itself.

  She often thought back to the day they had first met, the savagery in his eyes and the ruthlessness of his actions. She knew that man lived inside him, but he had only shown the gentle side of his nature to her. Still, as she watched him house his claymore in his scabbard, even she felt a little scared.

  “When are we going to be there, Vanora?” Marion asked. Despite all their blankets and furs, her face was pink with cold.

  Vanora pushed the curtain aside and looked up at the leaden, yellowish-gray sky. It was hard to tell, but she had the impression that it was not long after noon. Rory was trotting along beside them on his huge horse, much closer than Vanora had imagined he would be, and his face was muffled up with a woolen scarf so that only his eyes were visible. She could have reached out and touched him, but she did not.

  “How far away are we, do you think?” she asked him.

  He pulled the scarf down from his face to answer her. “They tell me ‘tis no’ much further,” he informed her. “A mile or so, maybe.”

  She looked at his hands, which were not wearing gloves. The tips of his fingers were blue with cold. He saw the direction of her gaze. “I cannot find a size big enough,” he said ruefully.

  “Are your fingers not numb?” Vanora asked, horrified. “Why did you not tell me?”

  He shrugged. “I am used tae it,” he replied. “I never wear them when we go ridin’.”