Fighting For A Highland Rose (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

  That night passed in a blur. In the darkness, they could see very little of the house, and when they entered into the brightly lit, wide chamber of the main hall, the light dazzled them. Men and women of the Macpherson clan came and helped them into dry clothes. They were given food, but Emily was so tired she could barely eat. She took a little stew and bread at a big scarred table with Alice dozing at her side, before a bustling, buxom older woman showed them to a little room with two narrow beds. The beds had deep mattresses well-filled with fresh straw mixed with aromatic herbs. Alice collapsed quickly onto hers, and Emily followed suit. She was asleep before her head touched the pillow.

  * * *

  Sunlight shone onto her face, and she awoke slowly, at first aware only of the pleasant scents of lavender, chamomile, sage, straw, and clean linen, and the deep aches in her legs and back. It took a little while before she began to wonder where she was. The ceiling was of dark whorled timber, and the walls were of stone. The heavy wooden shutters had been flung back, and through this came a fresh morning breeze. The sky outside was a deep, clean blue.

  It came back to her in a flood of memory, sudden as a summer shower. This was the house at Rowan Glen. Against all hope, they had made it. She sat up, red hair tousled and tangled about her head. At some point in the night, she must have woken and removed her new clothes, for they lay crumpled in a pile on the floor next to her bed. Alice slept on, curled up under the sheets and breathing deeply.

  She scanned the room. There was a tub of water, warmed and steaming by the hearth. A new fire crackled with birch logs spitting merrily as the flames licked up them. On a little table stood a plate filled with small cakes. By the tub lay a pot of rough soap and a towel for drying and a kettle hung above the fire, hissing and bubbling. Slowly she realised that someone must have entered the room and laid this out for their convenience. She was to be well-looked after here.

  Emily had not washed for many days, and it felt incredibly good to make use of the water and the soap, and to put on the clean clothes laid out for her. She was sitting by the fire, halfway through one of the little cakes heavy with raisins and a spice she didn’t recognise – when the door opened and the buxom lady from the night before appeared.

  “Ah, ye are awake lass! I am Eilidh MacPherson, the wife o’ James, the chief o’ the clan and master o’ this house. My step-son, Murdo, has telt me great things o’ ye, and for my part, I like yer looks. So ye are tae be wedded, and a’ the arrangements must be made wi’out delay. We havnae had a wedding here in too long, and in these dark days, it will be a’ the mair welcome. When ye are ready, come down tae the great hall – ye will find a’body there, I’m thinking, and the plans weel underway already.”

  It did not take her long to venture out. She left Alice sleeping; Mrs. MacPherson promised to look in on her and make sure she had fresh water for washing and new clothes to wear when she awoke.

  “For she began as my servant,” said Emily, “but she is a servant no longer. She is my friend and equal to me in every way now.”

  In the great hall down below, all was as Eilidh MacPherson had said. She found Murdo with Ewan, Eilidh, James, and Father Colum, and also the Englishman, Ben Carmichael. Murdo greeted her with a strong embrace, and much to his step-mother’s disapproval, a passionate kiss. Eilidh made a show of frowning disapprovingly at them, but James laughed and spoke softly to her. Emily saw them sharing a joke together.; hey seemed like a most affectionate couple.

  “Hae ye eaten yet?” Murdo enquired, and as she had only eaten one of the little cakes in their room, Murdo called for more food to be brought. James and Eilidh left them, and the young people set to together. Murdo and Ewan had eaten already, but after their long journey neither objected to a second meal Alice appeared, looking rather sleepy and smiled shyly at Ewan as he hastily moved over on the bench to give her a seat between himself on one side and Emily on the other.

  During the meal, Emily learned that Ben Carmichael had been born in London to Scottish emigrants who had travelled south looking for work. His parents had found nothing but hardship in their move, and Ben had joined the military at a young age; a choice between that or starvation. He told his story as they ate:

  “I was made an officer, being quick on the uptake, but then I was dispatched back up here and put in charge of a detachment of Scottish troops in the King’s government forces. When I saw how the poor folk of the highland towns were treated by the soldiers, and saw the attitude of the other officers toward the Scottish enlisted men and civilians, well... I thought these are my father and my mother’s people, and by rights, this is my land as my ancestors are all Scottish as far as I can remember. I went over to the other side at the battle of Glenallan, during the early stages of the rebellion, and have never regretted my decision.”

  After breakfast, they went outside to look at the house, and Father Colum took Emily aside from the party as they walked in the grounds. He was in a bad way. Though he put on a brave face, it was clear that his illness had passed the point where it could reasonably be expected to be cured.

  “Emily, I believe I am no’ much longer for this world. I hae ridden wi’ James and Murdo for some years now, and it would be my last wish tae see ye wed tae him and tae perform the sacred joining wi’ my ain hands. For this reason, I ask that if ye would be prepared tae forgo any great preparations and tae wed as soon as may be contrived?”

  She took the old man’s hands and looked into his face. He had lost weight, and the skin hung in puckered pouches around his bloodshot eyes.

  “Father Colum, I would not have it any other way.”

  He smiled and sighed with relief. “Then I will be able tae go tae my long rest wi’ satisfaction, and tae feel that I hae done good work in the world. God bless ye, Emily, now and forever.”

  Murdo had followed this exchange from a distance and spoke to Emily after the Father left.

  “Father Colum asked ye tae move the wedding on as quickly as possible, did he not that he may perform the ceremony?”

  She nodded.

  “He asked me the same, earlier today. I said that if you were willing, then o’ course...”

  “I am willing,” she said decisively. “I wouldn’t have it any other way Murdo. And I do not see any reason to wait. I am not interested in an elaborate ceremony, but only in marrying you. Let us do it as soon as we may.”

  He grinned, sweeping her up in his arms again. “I knew ye would say so, and so I hae asked my step-mother this morning tae see whit we could dae for a feast, for even if we hae only the minimum o’ ceremony we still must hae a ceilidh tae celebrate, and that requires food and drink!”

  The rest of the day passed in a flurry of preparation. Eilidh MacPherson, following a token show of disapproval at the young lovers’ outward affection for each other now became enthusiastic. She recruited Alice and with a team of the younger MacPherson women at her beck and call, she set the whole place astir with preparations for the party. She had sent Emily and Alice back to their room with instructions for Emily to wash and dress her hair while she hunted the house for a suitable dress. Emily and Alice found themselves sitting before a big mirror brought to the room for the purpose, and Alice was engaged in pinning up Emily’s flaming red locks when a sigh escaped her.

  “Why, Alice,” Emily asked with concern. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “Oh, miss,” Alice fell into her old habit. “’tis Ewan. I’m sorry, this is yer special day, but I cannae help but sigh, for while ye are so happy and anticipating a future wi’ yer love, my love remains apart frae me. We grew sae close on the long journey, and that night before the raid by the river...” she blushed prettily and smiled.

  “But now, I dinnae ken where I stand wi’ him. Why does he no’ ask me tae marry him? For I would, but this isnae fair. Today belongs tae ye, miss and my troubles can wait.”

  She put a smile on her face and spoke of other things, but in her hear, Emily vowed to have a word with Murdo and make him prompt Ewan
along the way.

  Emily Nasmith and Murdo MacPherson were married in the crisp spring sunshine in the tended grounds in front of the house at Rowan Glen. Eilidh MacPherson had found Emily an elaborate dress of cream-coloured linen, which fitted her perfectly.

  “It belonged tae my mither, gone these many years, God rest her soul,” she said to Emily, as they dressed her. “She was married tae my faither in it and though I would hae liked tae dae the same, I could never hae fitted intae it! I kept it for my ain daughters, but alas, I was never blessed wi’ children o’ my ain. I never wish tae feel better pleased than I dae now, tae hae ye coming intae our family!”

  Father Colum performed the service as he had hoped and the tears ran freely from his weary eyes as he proclaimed them man and wife in a loud, clear voice. He found the strength to resist his cough, and stood tall, seeming in better health than he had for many days. The whole house – and it was not insignificant – turned out to see the clan chief’s heir wed the Englishwoman. When the newly-married couple kissed with the blessing of the priest, the crowd stood up and cheered with one voice.

  * * *

  It was evening, and the hall was alive with music. The Highland men wore kilts, and Emily looked with interest at the way the heavy woollen fabric swung to the rhythm as the men stepped proudly and the women whirled to the skirling of pipe and drum. Murdo looked very fine in his formal dress, and she was both impressed and surprised when he took to the musician’s dais with a set of bagpipes and played merry, lilting tunes from the bizarre-looking instrument. She had no idea that he had an ear for music.

  The dances were new to her too, but Alice knew them well, and they were not difficult for her to pick up and enjoy. The meal was splendid; fresh roasted pork and venison, the early pickings from the vegetable gardens around the house, dried fruits from last year’s season, and bread, pickles, and freshwater fish from the river that fed the lochan. Racks of beeswax candles lit the long hall, and a fire roared in the great hearth at one end of the hall. To the side of the fireplace was the musicians’ dais, and though a steady succession of different men took turns here, there were always the pipes and a great drum.

  After the feast, the tables had been shifted to one side of the hall to accommodate the dancing. Emily skirled and whirled in sets with the other dancers. At first, she had danced with Murdo only, but every woman in the room wanted to claim a dance with the newly-wed groom.

  There was a barrel of potent wine, and this strong liquor quickly went to her head and combined with the food and the music in a potent cocktail that made her head swirl. Though Murdo danced with everyone and took turns at the dais to play the pipes for the dancing, his eyes were often on her. If she glanced up from a dance, she would often find his dark, dark eyes shining on her from across the room. A chamber had been prepared for them in the family wing of the house, and there would be a fire waiting and more wine on the table: the candlelight glinting on the glassware and making the fresh white linen shine. When she thought about the things they would do together as husband and wife for the first time, her heart raced, and she felt a familiar, exciting heat flush through her belly and between her thighs.

  She danced all the harder for it, having changed out of the cream-coloured wedding dress and into lighter skirts and a tunic that allowed her more room to move, and kept her cooler as she danced.

  The hall was hot and damp, packed dancers, fire and smoke. At one end of the hall, a set of great double-doors were closed against the night’s chill, but when they opened, Emily welcomed the cool air that swept in. A Highlander came in from the darkness beyond, swaying as if he had drunk too much. The music on the dais faltered, and the rhythm of the dancers was lost as they realised he held a long blade bare in his hand. A sudden stillness came over the room, and the folk parted around the man like water around a rock. He took several steps into the room, his mouth open as if trying to speak. Then his blade fell from his slack hand and clattered to the ground. Staggering forward fell flat on his face before the horrified crowd. As he hit the ground, his cloak fell back to reveal his white shirt below. It was marred by three spreading roses of crimson blood.

  Chapter Eighteen

  For a long moment, a stunned silence descended upon the crowd in the great hall. They stood like statues, caught amid their merrymaking. Horror filled their eyes, and Emily felt her heart almost stop. The piper on the dais dropped his pipes to the ground making an ungodly screech as the last of the air escaped from the bag; the sound breaking the spell.

  “Tae me!” roared Murdo. Diving to where his sword lay propped against the wall, he transformed from dapper merrymaker to armed and dangerous leader in one swift stroke. “Tae me!”

  The freshly drawn steel glittered in the firelight as his voice boomed orders and the men in the hall dashed around, grabbing their weapons, none of which were far from their hands.

  Emily looked around for Alice and found her friend rushing over, skirts held high above the floor to allow her to run. They grasped each other but did not speak. The hall was in chaos; people rushing to and fro and Murdo shouting orders, when suddenly, through all the yelling came the unmistakable rattle of rifle fire from outside.

  “We must get up intae the body o’ the house,” said Alice. “The enemy must hae taken the bridge by stealth tae get this close! Oh, miss – whae can it be, surely no’ the English soldiers?”

  “Where is Father Colum?” As she spoke, Emily saw the old priest hauling himself toward them, supported by a stick. Eilidh MacPherson and James were by him as Alice and Emily hurried forward to meet them.

  “Come wi’ me, now,” said Eilidh urgently.

  Emily looked for Murdo and for a long moment, their gazes met across the hall. She saw him take in the group, and he nodded; his mouth a grim line. Turning to his men, they charged toward the great double doors. Two men grabbed the fallen guard and hauled him back, but he was already dead. The rest led by Murdo disappeared into the night.

  “I must go out tae the fighting! I must!” said James. His sword was in his hand, and his eyes burned with anger. “Ye must get the women up intae a high chamber o’ the house, Eilidh, and the priest too. I must go!”

  “Go, then,” Eilidhsuddenly gathered him up in a passionate kiss. He kissed her and then taking Emily by the hand, looked at her solemnly for a moment.

  “Tak’ care, lassIn his grizzled face there was nothing but tenderness and love. Turning away, his face hardened like granite as he strode out of the hall. Eilidh looked after him for a moment, shaking her head.

  They were about to leave when Father Colum gripped Emily by the arm. He was clutching something – a paper, rolled and tied with a green ribbon.

  “What’s this?” she looked puzzled. He wheezed a breath.

  “The certificate o’ marriage. Ye signed it earlier and by rights, Murdo should hae taken it, but he didnae, and now he’s gone and we dinnae ken whit will happen. Tak’ it, lass, tak’ it now!”

  He pushed the paper toward her urgently, and she took it, slipping it into the bosom of her tunic.

  “Come on now,” Eilidh urged, and they hurried together toward the back of the great hall. Reaching a small side door that opened onto a courtyard, Eilidh poked her head out and glanced around, there was no sign of anyone. From the front of the house, the sounds of fighting could still be heard. Father Colum coughed.

  “’tis a’ clear!” hissed Eilidh and the little party slipped out of the door and into the courtyard.

  The sky had been bright and clear earlier, with many stars shining in the heavens and a bright half-moon, but now the wind was blowing, and darkness covered the stars; the moon gleamed and shone fitfully through the scudding clouds. They were halfway across when disaster struck. From the deep shadows at the corners of the yard, black figures emerged, closing on them from every side. They moved so silently that none of the party saw them until it was too late.

  “Beware!” cried Father Colum as a black-shadowed figure brought it down
a cudgel upon him with a cruel stroke. The kindly old priest collapsed in a heap. Emily fumbled for her knife, but it was not there. Alice let out a high, piercing shriek which rang around the courtyard walls, before one of the attackers knocked her over, silencing the girl. Eilidh MacPherson stood her ground. The big, homely woman dropped into a practised fighter’s crouch, and a long, cruel blade glinted in the fitful moonlight. She darted forward under the guard of one of the men and thrusting her blade upward.

  Hard hands grabbed Emily around the shoulders and neck; another pair grabbed her ankles as she saw the man Eilidh had stabbed crumple to the ground. A rag was stuffed into her mouth, a gag tied across it and a bag thrust over her head. All was darkness, and Emily knew no more.

  * * *

  Emily Nasmith awoke in darkness and in great pain. She was gagged, and the feeling of the rough cloth against her tongue was revolting. The bag covering her head smelled like rotten apples. She was lying face-down over something which jounced and bumped her uncomfortably. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her weight pressed against her belly. It was all she could do not to suffocate. She breathed slowly and evenly through her nose and tried to think. A horse, she was trussed across the back of a horse. Like a sack of grain.