Highland Engagement

by Dana D'Angelo

  Blane crouched and inspected the other man’s leg. The wound was deep and was likely caused by a sword. If he didn’t get help, Giles would die.

  “Calvin, help me get him up,” he beckoned to the mercenary. “He’s coming with us.”

  Fortunately, Giles recovered quickly from his injury, and he chose to stay with the Black Targe Company. And since then, he had become an asset to the group. His mate was usually jovial and enjoyed trading quips with the rest of the members. But today, his expression seemed somber.

  “I need tae speak with ye,” Giles said.

  There was a grim expression on his face, and Blane knew that something was wrong.

  “Ye want tae find a seat?” he asked.

  Giles nodded. But when he looked around, every table was taken. His gaze zeroed in on the occupants in front of them.

  “Ye need tae move,” he said, approaching them. “We need these stools.”

  “Aiya! We were here first. Ye cannae just kick us out of our seats,” the smaller man of the two said, his shrill voice slightly slurred.

  But his friend jabbed him in the ribs, and when the smaller fellow looked up, he saw Blane and Giles standing next to him. The man shrunk back, his bluster fading. Although the men had their fair share of spirits, they were sober enough to know that they had no chance against either of the giants.

  Blane settled in the vacated stool. “What do ye need tae speak about?” he asked. He gestured for the tavern wench to bring drinks to their table.

  “I’m sorry I have tae break this tae ye.” Giles drew a long breath. “But I’m leaving the Company. I’ve been away too long, and I miss my family.”

  But his comrade truly did look sorry that he had to leave. They both knew that things weren’t going to be the same after he was gone. Still, Blane knew that changes and disappointments were always present in the mercenary life. He wasn’t overjoyed about losing a member of the Company, whether it was through death or through voluntary departure, but it was an unfortunate aspect of the business.

  “I’m sorry tae see ye go,” Blane said. “Ye have been an invaluable member of the Company.”

  The tavern wench brought their drinks over and set them down at the table. Giles handed a couple of coins over to the lass.

  “I thought ye would be angry about the news,” his friend said after the lass moved away. “But I’m nae sorry about leaving.” He threw back his head and drank deeply from his cup. “I’ll be glad tae see my wife and sons again.”

  “I’m sure your wife will be happy about your return. And those wee bairns of yours will be glad tae see their da.”

  “I dinnae think that they are wee bairns any longer,” Giles said, grinning.

  “What will ye do when ye return tae the Cunningtoun clan?”

  His friend pursed his lips for a moment as he pondered the question. His eyes then fell on the counter where the tavern owner sat. “Maybe when I get back, I’ll try my hand at opening up an establishment like this one.” He turned back and ran his palm over the smooth table in front of him and then gazed around him. “But I’ll have a better sense of my options once I return home.”

  Giles downed his drink and let out a satisfied sigh. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and yelled for the wench.

  “Bring some whisky and more ale for me and my friend,” he said. “And get only the guid kind because we have lots of celebrating tae do!”

  A hoot sounded from the other side of the room and seemed to echo his friend’s sentiment. The sound of stomping feet and bagpipes reverberated in the common area. Blane turned to see his comrades dancing with the local women. The fighting was now over, and they had a right to do whatever they wished.

  On the other side of the room, Calum gulped down Hamish’s drink just as his friend flirted with a pretty lass. A third man who witnessed the prank let out a high pitched, drunken laugh.

  The serving woman brought the drinks to Blane’s table, and Giles eagerly helped himself. “Come home with me,” he said, drawing Blane’s attention back to him. There was a hopeful, almost eager glint in his eyes. “The clan would love it if ye returned.”

  “I told ye before, I have nay intentions of going back,” he said, his tone a little curt.

  But Giles tossed down another helping of firewater and didn’t notice his annoyance.

  “They’ll be overjoyed tae see ye. I’m sure of it,” he continued. “With ye being the son of the former chief, ye would...”

  “I dinnae want tae talk about it,” he said, cutting Giles off.

  He grabbed the flask of whisky and tipped it to his lips. The light mood he felt earlier had darkened with the mention of the Cunningtoun clan. No doubt, Blane could never forget that he belonged to this powerful clan.

  However, that part of his life was finished. Fighting was his way of life now. Since the MacGregons fostered him in his younger years, he had honed his combat skills. Then as a mercenary, he had developed other abilities as well. He knew how to read the terrain, and he was an expert in retaining that information and applying it to different environments. On many occasions, his memory allowed him to map territories and plan effective attacks for their various employers.

  And with Blane’s knowledge and leadership, he helped sharpen the skills of his men until the Black Targe Company became both feared and respected. He expected his men to fend for themselves during battles. And he believed that if they were strong and skilled enough, they would survive any conflict. That philosophy extended to himself. Fortunately, he hadn’t lost any of his men due to weaknesses on their part. If lives were lost, it was because of circumstances that were out of his control.

  But the talk of the past irritated Blane further, and he began to remember things that he had buried long ago.

  “All right, let’s talk about the future then,” Giles said, not noticing Blane’s withdrawal. “Why dinnae ye do something that makes ye happy? Have ye considered perhaps taking on a wife?”

  “Of course, nae,” he said dismissively. “What would I do with a wife when I’m busy with fighting?”

  “Fighting isnae everything, my friend. One day ye will meet a bonnie lass that will make ye want tae quit the work,” he warned, and then laughed at Blane’s incredulous look. A moment later, he sobered. “The war is finished, and there will be fewer and fewer jobs for us. What will happen when there’s absolutely nae work?” Giles asked.

  “I’ll deal with that when the time comes,” he said. “Countries are always warring against each other. If they arenae jobs here, we’ll go elsewhere.”

  Giles shook his head and looked at him with admiration. “I ken that ye have done verra well for yourself,” he said. “Ye are the leader and are luckier than the rest. But mark my word, the tides are changing, and ye will have tae be prepared for this change.”

  “Ye cannae stop change,” he shrugged.

  “But ye can direct your own fate,” Giles stressed. “Ye likely have enough money saved tae buy a plot of land. And if ye insist on fighting, I ken the Queen has offered tae retain ye in her garrison. The rest of the men in the Company, however, dinnae have the same opportunity as ye. They’ll suffer when there’s nay employment. Look how in the last few months, we’ve been getting fewer and fewer jobs.”

  “Employers still seek our services,” Blane said stubbornly. He lowered his eyes and stared at his tankard.

  Giles studied him, his brows drawn together in concern. “I think ye are destined for more than just leading the Company, Blane.”

  “I have few problems leading the crew,” he said. “In fact, I like it.”

  “But ye cannae fight for the rest of your life,” Giles said. “When I met my lass, I wasnae looking tae start a family. Now that I have Molly and the lads, I would do anything for them.”

  “And I’m glad for ye,” he said.

  Giles opened his mouth as if to debate with Blane, but then he shook his head. He lowered his tone and approached him from a different angle. “As someone w
ho knew your da, I expect that he would want ye tae let go of the past and move on. Ye cannae undo what happened tae your family. Ye cannae bring them back tae life, but ye can make a difference for those who still live.” He paused. “Believe me, the clan needs ye. When I left home tae seek work, things were crumbling all around. I’m certain that if ye returned and took your place as the rightful chieftain, things will be put tae rights.”

  “The clan can and will survive without me,” he said shortly. “There’s nay need for me tae be the chief.”

  And there was also no need for him to relive the trauma. Going back to the clan would invariably dredge up old ghosts, and he wasn’t willing to face them. In truth, he didn’t want to think about either his past or his future. He preferred to stay in the present and immerse himself in wars. It was something he was good at. He was careful to choose projects that would bring in money for the Company, and he and his colleagues were well paid for their efforts.

  And the years of fighting served him well. He was focused on one thing and one thing alone, which was winning skirmishes for his wealthy employers. Nothing else mattered. The men that were accepted as members of the mercenary group held the same high standards as him. In the end, their hard work paid off because the Company was sought-after, and they had the reputation of being brutally efficient.

  “Listen,” Giles said. “None of the lads will tell ye this, but we’re all worried about ye. I understand what ye went through with your family, but maybe ‘tis time tae forget about it. I said this already and will say it again. There’s more tae life than just fighting. I would hate for ye tae be sae busy battling your demons that ye miss out on any opportunities that come your way.”

  “Dinnae worry about me,” Blane said. “I’ve looked after myself long before ye came along. And if anything, I’ve looked out for your arse too since ye came into the fold.”

  Giles laughed. “That ye did. Surely I would have been dead if you hadnae come along.”

  The serious air from his friend dropped, and he turned back to his light-hearted self.

  But what Giles asked of him was impossible. There was no way he could live a normal life after what had happened. With his own eyes, he saw his family perish. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help them. Then when Rory MacGregon exiled him, more people he loved were removed from his life. In the end, it was better that he didn’t care about anyone lest he got hurt.

  No, he would continue to fight. And he would keep his sanity rather than lose it by mulling over the pain and heartache of his past.

  Chapter 3

  A man Anabell hired from the ship set down their baggage carelessly on the pier, and the resounding boom echoed in the area.

  “Be careful with our possessions,” Anabell said, frowning.

  “I did what ye asked.” The man glowered at her and put out his hand. “I want my payment.”

  “That’s nae how ye speak tae my mistress,” Maggie said.

  “Let it be, Maggie.” Anabell took a coin from her purse and dropped it in his hand.

  “My service is worth more than this,” the man said, staring at the amount with disdain.

  “The service ye gave us wasnae exceptional,” her nursemaid countered, ignoring Anabell’s warning look.

  “Fine,” the seaman growled. A contemptuous glint sparked in his eyes. “I’m going tae toss your belongings in the water.”

  He moved, and it became apparent that he wasn’t making an idle threat.

  “Wait,” Anabell said quickly. “I’ll give ye more money.”

  “But he’s overcharging us, lass.” Maggie grabbed her arm. “Ye cannae allow him tae take advantage of ye like this.”

  “If ye think your baggage was easy tae carry, then ye shouldnae have asked for my help,” the man retorted.

  “Please, Maggie,” she said tiredly. “We’re starting tae draw attention tae ourselves. We’re in a strange town, and the last thing we need is tae have our possessions thrown into the ocean.”

  Maggie let out a huff of air and released her arm. She started to grumble under her breath, but Anabell pretended not to hear her.

  “This should be enough,” she said, paying him the extra amount.

  When the seaman was gone, Anabell let out a long sigh of relief. She didn’t know what she would have done if he demanded more payment.

  “I dinnae like that man,” the nursemaid said. She wrinkled her nose and placed her hands on her hips. “Nor do I like this place.”

  Her complaint wasn’t unwarranted. The perpetual reek of seaweed hung heavily in the air, and it was only slightly underscored by the scent of dead fish. However, despite the stench, no one else in that area seemed bothered by the smell.

  “Help me move the trunk, Maggie,” she said, indicating for her to grab the other end of the chest.

  The sailor they hired had dumped their belongings in an awkward spot, forcing other travelers to maneuver around them. Some of the travelers weren’t amused by the blockage, nor were they shy about voicing their displeasure. With some effort, she and her companion pushed the wooden chest away from the general traffic.

  “What did ye pack in here?” Anabell asked, wiping the perspiration from her brow. She sat heavily on top of the box.

  Maggie joined her. “I packed the things ye would need,” she said, her tone defensive.

  Anabell bit her tongue. If it were up to her, she would only have brought a few essential items that would fit in a bag.

  “I guess there’s nae much tae be done. But at least we willnae be jostled any longer.”

  “All we need now is tae wait for the escorts tae appear,” Maggie added.

  They continued to sit on the box, staring toward the town’s main street. After ten minutes passed, Anabell became aware of two men staring at them.

  “Do ye think those men are our escorts?” she asked. Somehow she felt chilled even though the air was warm. She pulled her cloak tightly around her. “I had hoped that the people Father Pierre hired would be trustworthy and maybe appear less scary.”

  “Those men arenae our escorts,” Maggie said decidedly after assessing their ragged appearance. She then let out a disgusted snort. “They’re looking at ye as if ye are a common doxy.”

  One of the men broke free from his companion and came forward. Maggie jumped to her feet. “What do ye want?” she demanded.

  Even from where Anabell sat, she caught a whiff of old sweat emanating from his unwashed body.

  “I want tae talk tae her,” the man said, pointing his finger at Anabell.

  Maggie took a threatening step forward and appeared angry enough to hurt him. “She wouldnae care tae talk tae the likes of ye,” she said. “Now leave!”

  The man gave the older woman a dirty look and spun around, deciding that it wasn’t worthwhile to hassle them.

  Anabell soon learned that other unscrupulous men wanted to approach them. Fortunately, the nursemaid’s hostile glare effectively caused those undesirables to scatter as well.

  After thirty minutes more, the activity at the wharf dwindled, and many of the voyagers disappeared into the port town. Father Pierre had advised them that they needed to remain at the pier so their guides could easily locate them. For now, they couldn’t move from their location.

  But as their wait continued, the old nursemaid seemed to lose her energy. Anabell threw a concerned glance her way and assumed Maggie’s tiredness was caused by the journey. Admittedly, the voyage was long and arduous. When they finally made it to land, they were relieved. Maggie was especially eager to disembark from the ship. However, her relief and optimism had disappeared. And with the hot sun beating down on their backs, anxiety was starting to set in as well. There was a real possibility that they would be stuck in this unfamiliar town for many more hours.

  Maggie let out a loud sigh. “Are ye certain that someone will fetch us?” she asked again for the third time.

  “Father Pierre has taken care of everything, and I have every reason tae b
elieve that our escorts will come at any time now.”

  Maggie eyed the questionable characters that lurked in the vicinity. “Did the priest mention what they might look like?” she asked.

  “He didnae say,” she said, frowning. “But he did mention that a team of armed guards would assist us.”

  “We might verra well need armed guards,” Maggie muttered glumly.

  “Dinnae worry. We’ll just wait a wee bit longer,” she said, trying to interject optimism in her words. “They’ll show up; I’m sure of it.”

  Anabell made herself more comfortable on the trunk and rested her chin on her palm. With nothing else to do, her mind wandered to the confrontation she had before she left France. Her mother was likely still furious with her.

  “How did you come by this news?” her mother had demanded in rapid French after Anabell accused her of withholding information about her grandmother’s illness.

  “It does not matter how I came by this news,” she said.

  But her mother tore her gaze away from her and was now glaring at Maggie.

  “I’m sorry, Madame,” the nursemaid said, her eyes blinking rapidly. “I had tae tell her the truth.”

  “I told ye that she was not to know about this.”

  “Why?” Anabell interjected. “This is about my grandmother. At this very moment, she’s lying on her deathbed. When we left Scotland, I never got to say farewell to her,” her voice began to tremble with emotion. “This will be my only chance to see her while she’s still alive.”

  “Even if she’s dying, there isn’t much you can do,” her mother pointed out. “The woman has lived her life, and it’s now time for her to leave this world.”

  “That is not relevant —” Anabell said.

  “It’s the truth,” she answered with finality in her voice. “I’ve told you many times that it’s dangerous in Scotland. That is why we left. You live a good life here, and you shouldn’t even be thinking about going to Scotland and putting yourself at risk. And consider Artur Beaulieu. What will he think? ”