“And I am certain ye shall dae all ye can to secure it,” Elaine replied, and the Laird nodded.
“Come, we shall talk of it as we ride out,” he said, taking her by the hand and nodding to Finlay, who handed back the rolled-up paper.
Finlay smiled shyly at Elaine before returning to the clansmen who were gathered at one end of the great hall. In the weeks since her arrival, a closeness had emerged between them, albeit something of a formal one. Despite being much the same age, they were both very different people and with different roles to fulfill. It seemed strange to Elaine to think of herself as Finlay’s future stepmother, and the same must surely have been true for him.
“Dae ye think it strange that I am to be mistress of this castle,” Elaine asked Finlay, as the two of them sat at dinner one night, a week or so after her arrival at Kilchurn.
“Tis’ the way of things. Strange things occur in almost every family; we are nay different. The marriage between ye and my father is yer business, nay mine,” he replied.
“But we are of such similar age,” she replied, and he laughed.
“Aye, and daenae think that I have nae thought that,” he said.
“But what of ye? Have ye nay desire for marriage?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“Desire and possibility are two different things, are they nae? Nay woman has come here to be for me what ye are to my father. That is the order of things, or so it would seem,” he replied, helping himself to a glass of whiskey which he swirled ponderously around before sipping.
“But ye daenae hold this against me?” she asked, and he laughed.
“Ye and my father are welcome to marry lass. I will nae stand in yer way,” he said, smiling at her.
But there was something in the way his eyes lingered on her, something in his look. Elaine dismissed it as a flight of fancy, a simple boyish desire. Or was there something more to the way he looked at her? She did not mind; he was attractive, a man she could find much in common with and commend. He was like his father, and his father was like him. The thoughts confused her, and she tried her best to push them aside.
Still, they had found things in common, and Elaine remained ever grateful to Finlay for rescuing her and Carys from the bandits. The captured men had now received their punishments, and several others had been apprehended upon the moorlands and found themselves at the receiving end of the Laird’s displeasure. It was Finlay who had ridden out each day in search of them, and Elaine had seen the determination with which he set about his task, anxious to win his father’s approval. But perhaps also hers too.
It seemed that this was both Finlay’s strength and weakness. He longed to please his father, and yet he lived in his shadow, always wondering if he had done so. Elaine felt sorry for him, for he seemed so intent upon proving himself despite his father’s kindly words and obvious admiration for his son. Elaine would watch from her window as Finlay and Dougal sparred in the castle courtyard, each trying to prove their prowess with the sword, and she had wondered on several occasions just what sort of Laird Finlay might one day turn out to be.
But it was not only such thoughts that crossed her mind. Elaine could see that he was an attractive man, his brown hair short and neatly kept, his face clean-shaven and a strong jawline; he was a similar age to herself, a man she could easily find herself attracted to. Such thoughts were forbidden, of course, and she did her best to rid herself of them for her own sake and that of the marriage she was duty-bound to accept.
* * *
The arrival of Elaine at Kilchurn had struck Finlay far more than he has ever imagined it would. When his father had announced the marriage between himself and the daughter of the Laird of the McRobs, it had given Finlay little to ponder on. He was neither overjoyed nor angered by the prospect of another woman arriving at the castle.
Elaine, his father had told him, was a much younger woman, though he could hardly begrudge his father the desire for companionship. If he wished to marry again, then so be it, the memory of his own mother would still be preserved. His father had assured him of that. This newcomer would be welcomed, and Finlay held no grudge against her.
But he had not been prepared for the feelings which even now were aroused within him for Elaine, an attractive woman, and it was her eyes, deep and blue, which drew him to her, framed by her long dark hair and soft, supple skin, a contrast to her red lips, which cried out to be kissed. He had found his eyes lingering on her over dinner, and his interest in her growing stronger by the day. It was wrong to feel that way, he knew, but he could hardly push aside his feelings, not when they arose with such force.
“Ye look at her, I know ye dae,” Dougal said, as Finlay rejoined him and several other clansmen after Elaine and his father had departed for their ride.
“And is a man nae allowed to look at a woman now, Dougal? She is to be my stepmother, daenae think such thoughts,” he replied, and Dougal laughed.
“Stepmother is nae blood relation; she is the same age as ye. Does it nae make ye think?” his friend asked, and Dougal shook his head.
“Enough of such talk,” he replied, “come now, we must spar in the courtyard. I shall see yer sword arm today, I know I shall.,” and Finlay laughed.
“Ye would like to dae so,” he replied, as the clansmen made their way out to practice.
But Dougal’s words were not as idle as they might seem, and Finlay could not escape from the feelings building up within him nor the thought that there was some truth in observations of his friend.
* * *
“There is much to commend a peace between the clans,” Elaine said, as she and the Laird rode along the loch shore and into the forest.
“With our marriage and a treaty with the MacDonalds, we shall bring peace to Argyll and beyond,” the Laird replied.
“And what of events in the south? Dae ye think the English would kill the king?” Elaine asked, and the Laird shook his head.
“I daenae know. But if he loses his civil war, then it shall surely be the worse for us all,” the Laird replied.
“It worries me to think what might become of us,” Elaine said.
“Ye have nothin’ to fear, lass. Ye are quite safe here. I shall see to that,” the Laird said.
It had rained in the night, the rocks at the edge of the loch slippery and wet. The trees above dripped, and a cool wind was blowing in the air. But summer was at its height, and a damp warmth pervaded all around them, a dreich mist hanging in the trees above.
They had dismounted from their horses now, making their way by foot along the path towards the crofts. The Laird intended to visit the clansmen that day, for there was still much preparation to make before the wedding. Much wood would need to be cut in the forest for the fires at the feast, fish fished from the loch, and the deer hunted in the forest. Each person had their part to play, and the Laird had decreed that there was to be a day of rest on the day of his marriage so that all could come and celebrate at Kilchurn.
“I trust the dress meets with yer approval?” the Laird said, as they came in sight of the crofts.
“Tis’ of the finest lace, tis’ exquisite,” Elaine replied, not wishing to reveal that the dress required some alteration.
Carys would see to that, and there would be no suggestion of anything but perfection.
“Tis’ my gift to ye, though I promise I have nae seen it,” the Laird replied, turning to her with a smile.
She had found herself growing closer to him each day since her arrival at Kilchurn. He still had that fatherly way about him, and she knew that their marriage would be quite different from that which might have been hers had she been offered a choice. But she was happy in his company and felt at ease in his conversation. She was growing fond of him, though the thought of marriage was still a daunting one.
They had just come into the huddle of crofts when a commotion at the lochside caused them to turn. Several of the clansmen were rushing towards the shore, and the Laird hurried over, calling out to the wom
en, and asking what was happening. Elaine followed behind, and to her horror, she saw a sight which made her blood run cold.
There, floundering in the water, were two children. They had fallen from the rocks at the edge and down into the deep water below. Neither could swim, and the wind blowing up the loch had whipped the waters into a frenzy in the channel which washed into the shore. The alarm had only just been raised, and none of the men had heard the cries and shouts for help, only the women who now stood screaming at the edge of the water.
“Laird, help us, the children have fallen. They must have been fishin’ there, but they cannae swim,” one of the women cried, wading helplessly into the water as the Laird and Elaine rushed to their aid.
“Hold back there, ye shall be pulled under,” the Laird cried, pulling off his cloak.
“Ye cannae go in. We must wait for help to arrive,” Elaine said, taking the Laird’s arm and pulling him back.
“There is nay time. Call for the men, but the little one is going under. Stay there,” he said, entering the water, which was now churning in the wind, which seemed to have come from nowhere and was now whipping the waters up into a frenzy.
Elaine stood helplessly at the water’s edge, the women and children now crowded around, as the Laird began to swim out into the channel. The two children were being pulled further out into the loch by the waters, a crash of thunder now booming overhead as it began to rain heavily, the mist sinking down all around.
“The children, oh the children,” one of the women cried, clutching at Elaine, who held her close.
“The Laird will help them,” Elaine said, just as several of the clansmen appeared, dashing into the water after the Laird and calling out to the children to try swimming back towards the shore.
“They cannae swim,” Elaine said, watching in horror as the Laird made his way out across the channel.
But he too was struggling, despite the strength of his previous years. A wave washed over him, and he went under the water, emerging a moment later with a gasp and striking out once more across the waters.
“He will drown,” one of the women cried, and a wail went up from along the shoreline.
“He will save the children, daenae worry,” Elaine said, but now it was the Laird himself for whom she worried.
The waters were strong in the channel between the rocks, whipped up by the wind blowing down the loch. The rain was falling heavily now, a swell gong up and down, the waters foamy and raging. Elaine could see the children drifting further out into the loch, struggling with all their might to stay afloat.
It seemed as though hours had passed by, though in truth, they had only been in the water a few moments. At last, the Laird was alongside them, taking them in his arms and striking back towards the shore. A cheer went up from the gathered clansmen, and the men in the water swam out further to help.
“He has done it, mistress, the Laird has saved them,” one of the women cried, throwing her arms around Elaine in delight.
But all was not well in the water, and the Laird was struggling to keep himself and the children afloat in the roaring torrent. Elaine could only watch as another wave blew over them, sending them beneath the water with a cry. The men swimming out had not yet reached them and with a cry, the Laird let go of the children, just as the waters engulfed them once again.
“Help them,” Elaine cried out, as the jubilant cries turned to terror once again.
But the children had become separated from the Laird, who was now being dragged out by the swell into the loch. He was trying his best to swim, floundering as the waves washed over him, dragging him below the surface. Elaine rushed forward, wading into the water which, despite the summer month, was icy cold.
The men who were swimming had reached the children now and were dragging them back to shore. But the Laird had already drifted out into the channel, seemingly overwhelmed by the waters and the rain falling from above. They could not hope to reach him now without risking their own lives to do so, and, as the children were pulled ashore, Elaine could only watch helplessly as the Laird tried desperately to swim.
“Help him, please,” she cried, falling into the water, as one of the men pulled her to her feet.
“Come men, we can still get to him if we are quick,” he said, as several of them waded into the water.
But it seemed the currents were too strong, the wind whipping the water up into a surge, as the men struggled to keep themselves from being dragged out into the loch.
“Elaine,” the Laird cried, as another wave engulfed him, and he went below the water again.
“There must be somethin’ we can dae, please,” Elaine cried out, desperate to swim out and try to help.
But it was no use. The waters had him, just as they would have had the children if the Laird had not gone to their aid. He was floundering now, pulled under, again and again, unable to swim against the current, which seemed now to turn and send him hurtling towards the rocks.
With a final cry, the Laird was dragged down into the waters, as Elaine and the others stood helplessly watching. There was nothing they could do, no chance to help him. They, too, would be taken by the waters, and with a final cry, the Laird now disappeared from sight.
Elaine collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, as the clansmen gathered protectively around her. A rumble of thunder echoed along the loch as the rain pelted down around them. With a crash, the wind whipped up the waters and sent the now lifeless body of the Laird into the channel, where it floated on the surface, still and motionless.
“Quickly, wade in and help him,” one of the men called out, but it was clearly too late, and with much effort, the body was brought ashore.
Elaine rushed to the Laird’s side, willing him to still be alive. But his lips were blue, his face white and ashen, and his eyes now closed. The Laird was dead, the only consolation the children he had saved. They now stood with their mother, watching as Elaine began to cry, burying her face in the Laird’s arms, soaked to the skin, and filled with horror at the tragic scene she had witnessed that day.
All she could do was weep, clutching at the lifeless body and pleading for the Laird’s soul. But he was dead, and all their hopes were gone, dashed just like the motionless body on the rocks and only a void of sorrow remaining.
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Kenna Kendrick is an American based author of Historical Scottish Romance living in Austin Texas with her husband and three children. Her more than 25-year-old experience as an English Teacher has brought her close to the literary world, growing her love for fictional stories.
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Seduction in the Highlands: By choosing him she loses her inheritance, by leaving him she brakes her heart... Page 29
