Legend of a Highland Lass: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance

by Kenna Kendrick

  Lord Marcus gritted his teeth, seething as his eyes squinted and began to water. He stepped away from the bars, huffing and puffing as he started to pace in a circle. “You know nothing about me,” he said. “You merely sit here and speculate and speak of things you have no true knowledge of.”

  Rose smiled. “Ye will understand if I don’t believe ye…Lord Marcus.”

  Lord Marcus kicked his stool to the side, the stool flying off to his left and breaking into pieces against the wall. Rose didn’t shudder, didn’t flinch—she was satisfied that she had gotten a rise out of the man. She knew that she had cut through to his core.

  “Hold your tongue,” Lord Marcus said. “I told you that I can grant you a swift or elongated death. If you persist on trying to defame me—I’ll have no choice but to torture you in ways that you cannot even fathom.”

  Rose shrugged, knowing she had gotten through to Lord Marcus and ready to call his bluff. “If that’s what ye have to do,” she said, “then that’s how it must be.”

  Lord Marcus clenched his fist, approaching the cell and jutting his chin. Rose saw him putting on a display of authority, looking at her with an expression that exuded power but nonetheless possessed a veneer of vulnerability.

  “Tomorrow you will die,” Lord Marcus said. “You will be put on display on hung by the neck. I will return to this cell in an hour to try and elicit from you the location of your companions. If you insist on still making this a game at that point…I will pull your fingernails out one by one…” Lord Marcus turned away, storming toward the door and pounding his fist on the wood three times. “Guard,” he said. “We’re done here.”

  The door swung open, Lord Marcus stepping through before the guard closed it shut behind him, inserted the key, and twisted the lock shut.

  Rose watched on as she gripped onto the bars once more. Her heart began to race, her mind running wild and lip quivering as she felt the grains in the hourglass trickle down one by one by one. Sean, she pleaded in her mind. Save me…Please!

  Lord Marcus was seething as he approached his quarters, his footsteps reverberating through the hallways as he was joined by the stairwell by his man Henry.

  “Marcus!” Henry called out. “We are going to fetch supper.”

  Lord Marcus waved his hand dismissively through the air. “Go alone,” he said. “I am weary and require a drink.”

  Henry squinted. “What troubles you? Is everything alright?”

  Lord Marcus took one step up the stairs—and then he stopped. He was thinking back on Rose’s words, her statements having prodded him and provoked thoughts of his fallen loved ones to enter his mind. He was troubled, his heart filled with strife. He could not help but question himself in that moment, and felt equal parts rage, guilt, and sadness enter his mind.

  “Tell me, Henry,” he said in a solemn tone. “Am I a good man?”

  Henry took a step forward, his mouth open but taking his time to find the words. “Of course, you are, Marcus,” he replied. “What is prompting such thoughts to enter your mind?”

  Lord Marcus went to reply—but he cut himself short. He did not want to admit the truth. He did not want to tell Henry, though he trusted him implicitly, that he was feeling his past creeping up on him and starting to make him question everything. He needed to lie. He needed to pretend like he wasn’t heartbroken, that Rose’s words had not cut him through to his very core.

  “Forget it,” Lord Marcus said. “I am just tired. I require rest and a drink.”

  Henry nodded. “I will have a chambermaid fetch something for you immediately.”

  Lord Marcus turned slowly and leveled his gaze on his friend. “You are a most loyal companion, Henry. You always have been.”

  Henry smiled. “As have you, Marcus. As have you.”

  Lord Marcus said nothing more as he continued ascending up the steps and approached his chambers. He opened the door, his hand shaking as he closed it behind him and took a seat in the plush chair facing the window looking down onto the courtyard. He sat there, thoughts of his wife entering his mind. He saw his face, her smile, practically able to smell her scent as he reminisced on times long gone. And then, for the first time in a long time, Lord Marcus held his head in his hands, sighed, and wept.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sean wasn’t starting to worry. It had been several hours since he had questioned everyone at the tavern, yet he still had not come across the supposed English stronghold that he was told was not far from the village’s location.

  He was in a field, surrounded by greenery and flanked on every side by mountains. A breeze blew through, licking the back of his neck and causing the hairs to stand on end. He looked around from on top of his horse, swiveling his head from left to ride to try and make out something, anything that would point him in the right direction. I’m headed the right way, he pondered. But why have I not come across anything yet?

  Sean sighed, burying his face in his hands and wondering where to go and how much time was left before Rose would face inevitable execution. He slid off of his saddle, his hands on his hips and heart racing as he felt the seconds tick away. Time felt like it was fleeting, which it undoubtedly was, and he turned in a circle and tried to make out something that would lead him to the woman he cared for so deeply. I should have stayed. I should not have turned my back on her. Lachlan was right—the past does not matter anymore, only the present. I cannot forget my past, but I cannot continue to live in it. My God, what have I done? How did I manage to forsake something good that had finally entered my life?

  Sean felt at a loss. He crouched down onto one knee and closed his eyes, drawing in deep breaths and holding them for moments at a time before releasing them and trying his best to control the rhythm of his heart. “Help me,” he said out loud. “Someone please help me…”

  The wind began to blow harder, tussling his hair and causing him to hunch his shoulder. After a few moments of silence, he heard a familiar voice call out: “Sean,” from behind him.

  Sean stood, his eyes wide, afraid to turn around and face the source of the noise. He knew it more than well. He could never forget the sweet timbre of the voice. It was burned into his mind as vibrant as the memories that were associated with it. He slowly turned, closing his eyes again and holding his head high. He drew another breath, slowly opened his eyes, and leveled his gaze on a familiar face that instantly brought a smile to his face—his deceased wife.

  There she stood—smiling, a beam stretching from ear-to-ear, her hair blowing in the wind along with the blue gown that he had seen her sport the first time he had ever met her. And she looked young, just like the day she did when they first shook hands.

  “My love?” Sean said, taking a step forward, his eyes welling up with tears. “Is that ye? Is that really ye?”

  His wife nodded, walking toward Sean slowly, barefooted and seemingly content with the cold wind that was currently blowing through. “Aye, my love,” she said. “But it is only a daydream. I am not really here.”

  Sean squinted, his confusion running high. “I…don’t understand. What…What is happening?”

  His wife reached out, her hand extended outward for Sean to grab onto. “Take my hand,” she said. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Sean, though he did not understand what was happening, slowly reached out and grabbed his wife by the hand. Her touch was the same—still warm, still tender, still soft. The moment his fingertips touched hers, he fell to his knees, weeping with joy and unable to stave off the smile that was forming in his expression.

  “I thought I lost ye!” he exclaimed. “Oh, my darling. I have missed ye every day. The pain I feel over yer loss has never subsided!”

  Sean’s deceased wife came to his level, hooking a finger under his chin and tilting his head up. “Look at me, Sean,” she said. “It is alright.”

  Sean slowly looked her in the eye, wiping away the tears that were forming and hoping that this moment, whatever it may be, would last as long as possibl
e. “Are ye really not here?” he said. “Is this really a dream?”

  She shrugged. “Ye are exhausted,” she said. “Ye have been thinking nonstop for days on end now. This is the price of fatigue, my love—the mind tends to wander.”

  “Are ye…well? Are ye…in heaven?”

  His wife nodded. “Aye. And it is a beautiful place. Our child is with us. She smiles more than she ever did before.”

  Sean broke down, the tears flowing freely as he embraced his wife. He held her close, remembering all the fond times they shared together, holding her and feeling as if all the time that had passed meant nothing. It felt as if he had seen her just hours before, and the pain over her loss was momentarily subsiding as he held her in his arms.

  “So much has changed,” Sean said. “So much has changed since ye left this world.”

  She held his head in her hands, cupping it gently before gently running her fingers through his hair. “I know, my love,” she said. “I have been watching over ye. I have seen the pain and torment ye have been going through, and it breaks my heart to know that ye are suffering.”

  Sean gripped onto her wrists, gently, squeezing them with a reassuring affection. “I have tried for so long to avenge yer death. But I failed. The woman I…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest, worried that he would offend the memory of his late wife.

  But she shook her head, still smiling and staring him square in the eyes. “I know ye have moved on, Sean. But ye have to. I’ve wanted nothing more for ye than to find yer happiness. Ye have allowed yerself to be troubled by the past for too long.”

  Sean nodded. “I have been told the same by many others. But I hate feeling as if ye are slipping away. I feel with each moment that passes that ye will fade from my memory. Vengeance was the only thing I thought would keep ye alive.”

  His wife shook her head, extending her index finger and then pressing it to his temple. “I will always be with ye,” she said. “In here…” She lowered her finger and pressed it to the area over his heart. “And in here…”

  Sean smiled, feeling comforted for the first time in a long time. “Ye know about Rose?” he asked.

  “I do,” his wife said. “And she is a strong woman. A fine woman.”

  “I lost her. I walked out on her. I am trying to find her, but I am failing in my plight.”

  “She is not far, my love. Ye cannot give up hope. Ye must keep riding in the direction ye have been. Ye can be victorious. Ye will be victorious.”

  Sean embraced his fallen wife again, smelling her hair and trying to log away the new memory in vivid detail. “I will always love ye,” he said. “That will never change.”

  “As will I, darling,” his wife said. “But ye must live yer life. Our memories will always be there. We will always cherish them. But there is room in yer heart for something new, and as well there should be…Close yer eyes, my love. Remember this moment. Know that I love ye, and know that all will be alright.”

  Sean felt the breeze once again pick up, more intense this time, wrapping around him and his first love as he squeezed his eyelids as tight as possible and held onto her until he felt the need to once again open his eyes. Once he did—he found that he was alone. There was no one with him. He was by himself in the fields, his horse just a few feet away and his daydream having completely subsided.

  Sean stood, looking around to see if he could spot his love—but she was gone, and he did not feel dismay over that fact, but instead felt a resurgence of hope. He felt resolute, a wave of optimism flooding over him as he moved to his horse and mounted the saddle.

  Something overcame Sean, as if his inner compass was now being guided by someone—and he could not help but feel it was the spirit of his deceased wife. Smiling, he tugged at the reins and continued to ride to the north, coming to a grouping of trees that led into a forest.

  Sean rode for half a mile, nothing yet in sight, but his gut telling him that he was coming close to something. After a few more paces—and arrow then flew past him, and Sean withdrew his sword and held it up high. They’re here! he thought. I have found the English!

  “Show yerself!” Sean screamed. “Come out and face me!”

  “Hold yer fire!” a familiar voice called out.

  Sean squinted, lowering his sword and recalling the voice quite well. “Brandon?” he said. “Is that ye?”

  Seconds later—Brandon, Rose’s companion from the Scots, emerged from a hiding spot behind a tall pine with a sword in hand. He stood out in the open, holding his chin high and squinting at Sean.

  “Wanderer,” Brandon said. “I never thought I would live to see the day…”

  Sean looked around. “Are the others with ye?”

  Brandon turned to his left. “Scots!” he said. “It is not the enemy…”

  The rest of the Scots then came out of their various hiding spots from all around Sean, sheathing and putting away their weapons of destruction as they casually approached Sean.

  Brandon, walking up to Sean’s horse as Sean dismounted, said: “What are ye doing here? I thought ye were looking for yer new salvation in the Highlands.”

  “Aye,” Sean said with a nod. “But things took a turn.”

  Brandon looked over Sean’s shoulder. “Where is Rose? Where is Kelly?”

  Sean hung his head, playing back the memory in his head from when he found Kelly passing away in the fields. “Kelly is dead,” he said. “And Rose was taken by the English.”

  Brandon and the Scots stood there dumbfounded, shaking their heads with chagrined expressions stretching across their faces. They grouped together, Sean sensing their dismay as they took their time to process the news.

  “How?” Brandon said. “How did Kelly die?”

  “She was murdered by Lord Marcus,” Sean said. “And he took Rose with him. I came across a village not far from here. They said that he has taken her to an English stronghold somewhere in the area. I fear that her execution is imminent…and I must find her before her fate is sealed.”

  Brandon huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “This madness ensued ever since ye arrived. Rose trusted ye. We all did—look how far it has brought us.”

  “We can continue to squabble over what has transpired,” Sean said. “Or we can do something about it. I believe that fate has brought us together, Brandon. It is no coincidence that I found ye residing in these woods.”

  Brandon crooked a finger. “I know of the stronghold ye speak of,” he said. “It is but two miles from here. But their numbers are great. We are far outmatched. It would be a slaughter if we attempt to face them head on.”

  “So, we give up?” Sean exclaimed. “Is that yer solution?”

  “Facing them will be tantamount to slaughter.”

  “Rose is one of ye! She was yer leader! Ye cannot abandon her, especially not now. This is foolish, Brandon. We cannot turn our back on her. I cannot turn my back on her.”

  Brandon stepped forward, standing toe-to-toe with Sean. “How many more of us have to die? How many more of us have to suffer? Look at what has happened in just a week. Several of us have perished, and now I hear that Kelly, perhaps one of the finest warriors out of all of us, has now met her maker.”

  Sean reached out and placed a firm grip on Brandon’s forearm. “I know ye have suffered. We all have. This has been a most difficult journey for us all. I know that the odds are not in our favor, but we cannot abandon Rose. I certainly will not. I will face Lord Marcus head on if I have to.”

  “Then ye will perish. Ye will certainly meet yer demise.”

  Sean shrugged. “I could not live with myself if I abandoned Rose. Plain and simple.” He took another step forward, nearly nose-to-nose now will Lachlan. “And I do not think ye would be able to do the same.”

  Brandon clenched his jaw, turning his face away and looking guilty as he did so. Sean could sense the conflict inside him, the want to try and rectify the entire situation.

  “All of ye,” Sean said, turning in a circ
le and gesturing to each of the Scots, “are the most fearless warriors I have ever met. Ye are the Scots, the most feared rebels in all of the land. I do not believe ye are going to give up. Ye have never done so before. So, ye had a conflict with yer leadership. So, what? That is family. That is kin. Conflict inevitably arises. But now, here and now, is the turning point for us all. We have a choice to make.” He pointed off in the distance. “Rose is not far from here. The woman who changed all of our lives is in dire straits, and it is now up to us to do something about it. I refuse to believe that ye will cast her by the wayside. I know that all of ye have thought about coming back since ye left…”

  The faces in the crowd all sported looks of contrition, the truth of Sean’s words hitting them like a bucket of water in the face.