A Protector in the Highlands

by Heather McCollum

  “Don’t worry about the lamb,” Alana called. “She’s getting along fine with Robert now.” The lamb pranced around the steps to the keep with the large wolfhound puppy. “Poor pup paced the room all last night. I think he wanted to go sniff her out.”

  Aiden knew the feeling. He inhaled against the weight of his own sleepless night and ran a hand along his face, stretching his back and shoulders. “We should be back by tonight,” he called to Alana. “Hamish will keep the gate closed after us. Any students will come through the door in the wall.”

  Scarlet adjusted herself in the saddle. It wasn’t a sidesaddle, so her legs were spread about the mare, inching her skirts up so that he could see the black wool of her trousers peeking above her boots. Good. The woman would be warm enough. Even so, he’d packed an extra wool blanket on the back of Eigh.

  “Do you think it will snow?” Scarlet called toward him, even though there were six other mounted Campbells closer to her in the bailey.

  “Most certainly, since we are forced to travel to save a lamb from becoming a stew,” he said, his words dark, yet Kerrick laughed.

  “How long is the ride?” she asked, ignoring his irritation.

  “With a Sassenach, two to three hours,” Aiden said.

  Scarlet leaned forward to stroke her horse’s brown neck, calming it with soft words. She clicked, rising up in the seat, and guided the young mare toward him. “How long for a Scottish lass, ye churlish man?” she asked, slanting her accent to imitate a brogue. Kerrick laughed again, and Aiden had the urge to punch him. Luckily, Aiden always had a rein on his urges, except the ones that kept him awake most of the night. Mo chreach.

  “I was practically raised on horseback,” Scarlet continued. “There’s no reason to hold back the pace for me.”

  “We can get there under two hours at a brisk clip, though a bit longer since we are stopping at Balloch Castle on the way,” Kerrick said, nudging his horse alongside Scarlet.

  The man’s gaze traveled along the lines of Scarlet’s legs. “Ye have a strong seat,” Kerrick said with a nod. “Though, I’ve never seen ye ride before.” Kerrick’s gaze slid along Scarlet more than the horse. It lingered on the waves of reddish-brown hair that flowed out of the side of her red hood to lie along her breast.

  Scarlet flipped her gloved hand. She wore a smile that looked completely fabricated. “I don’t get the chance to ride with such a group of strong warriors.”

  Kerrick nodded. “Aye, we are usually busy training or building, but I’d be happy to take ye riding.”

  Aiden’s hands clenched around his reins. He touched his heels to Eigh’s sides and raised his fist to the sky, moving it forward, a silent command for everyone to follow. Aiden led the way out under the portcullis, nodding to Hamish as the man waved from the gate tower. He pressed Eigh into an easy trot down the curved path leading to the main road through the village of Killin. They would take the road north for a mile and then veer east to ride along Loch Tay, passing his own cottage.

  The clip of horses followed behind him where his men and one distractingly bonny Sassenach rode. Scarlet said that she could keep up with him, so he didn’t bother to slow Eigh when the horse picked up speed at the edge of town. Kerrick knew the way and would guide her there. They could talk and laugh together without Aiden having to listen. He grunted and leaned farther over Eigh’s long neck as they settled into a canter.

  Snowflakes began to fall, pocking his face as he rolled along with the gait of his horse. Eigh ran in the middle of the thin path that wound beside the loch. Aiden sucked in large drafts of cold air, calming the heat inside him. His blood pumped in his ears, blocking out the sounds of the other horses. Unfortunately, it wasn’t loud enough to block out the purr he’d heard in Scarlet’s voice as she crooned to her horse back in the bailey. How would it feel to have the woman purr his name?

  A meadow stretched out before him, and he had the urge to let Eigh have his head. But would he look like he was running away from them, tearing off across the snow-speckled moor? Before Aiden could decide, the sound of galloping hooves broke through, coming up behind him. He twisted in his seat just as Scarlet flew past, the bay filly in a full gallop.

  Panic clutched at his middle. Had Caora gone wild? Scarlet leaned low over the mare’s neck, its tail streaming out behind it, much like Scarlet’s mane of brown waves that had pulled free of her hood.

  “Falbh,” he yelled with a press of his heels, and Eigh sprang forward in chase. His larger horse caught up halfway across the moor. “Scarlet,” he yelled, and she turned her head while still in her low position.

  Aiden’s breath caught for a beat at the joyful smile that reached every part of her bonny features. Pure and exuberant, her face radiated such happiness that it made all the happiness that he’d felt in his entire life incomparable to this one moment. Her high cheeks were flushed pink, her lips parted, her eyes sparking with life and freedom.

  Sitting slightly up, she slowed Caora into a canter. “I’ve missed this,” she called.

  “Slow down,” he said as they neared the far edge of the meadow. “The woods ahead are thick.” He matched Eigh’s gait to the slowing mare until they finally trotted and walked in a circle just before the wood line.

  “That was purely wonderful,” Scarlet called, her breath puffing out before her. Aiden couldn’t agree more. Behind them, Aiden watched Kerrick and the other men race across the meadow.

  “Ye ride,” Aiden said.

  She laughed, a real laugh, not one twisted with wryness or cleverness. Just an open, authentic laugh. “Yes, but not since I’ve come here. My legs are bound to be sore on the morrow.” Her smile said that she wouldn’t care one bit.

  “Why haven’t ye ridden here? The Highlands are made for riding across as long as ye stay away from the boggy areas.”

  Her smile lowered a notch, some of the earlier spark extinguishing from her eyes. “’Tis truth that I haven’t thought it safe to venture from Finlarig alone.”

  “Someone could surely take ye,” he said, watching the snowflakes land on the dark fall of her hair.

  “I don’t want to bother anyone.” She shook her head, looking off toward the trees, but then leaned to stroke Caora’s neck. Aiden was completely certain that there would be a line of men waiting to escort her if she asked.

  “Bloody hell,” Kerrick called, his usual grin dimmed with a lowering of his brows. He pulled up on his horse’s reins to wheel the large gray around in a circle as the other men reached them. “I conclude that ye can ride, and that little filly should be entered into races.”

  Breaking the gaze that had held Aiden captive, Scarlet turned with a laugh, which had reverted to her usual witty flutter. “Caora is a natural,” she said, patting the horse. Caora tossed her head as if agreeing. She pulled the mare around to point toward the woods. “Let us continue before snow covers us.”

  …

  Scarlet guided Caora through the woods behind Aiden’s charger, watching the man shift occasionally in his seat. Good God, what an example of Highland ruggedness. He rode as if he’d been born in the saddle, something Scarlet appreciated in a man. He was light with the reins, using his knees to guide his horse and scratching between its ears periodically. There was a tight bond between them.

  “Winterberries are favorites of the local birds,” Kerrick said, pointing to some red berries, frosted in small clumps. “We can pick some branches on the way back if ye’d like some to decorate the keep.”

  “That would be lovely,” Scarlet said, though she hardly saw the red berries with her gaze following the steely line of Aiden’s back. She huffed quietly at her foolhardiness. The man hated all that was English, and her ability to seat a horse wasn’t likely to change that. Although it had been wonderful to show him that her talents didn’t stop at pouring heated tea into dainty bowls. Not that she wanted to attract the man, but it would be a victory to win the friendship of one who despised the English.

  They emerged from the woods
to skirt Loch Tay, and Scarlet spied a medium-size cabin up a low hill on the left. As they neared, Aiden veered off toward it. He raised an arm overhead.

  “Excuse me, Scarlet,” Kerrick said. “Time for me to lead the way.”

  “To where is Aiden off?” she asked.

  “’Tis his home,” Kerrick answered. “He will catch up to us before we reach Balloch Castle.”

  The cabin looked solidly built, a two-story rectangle with a slanted roofline. The door was painted blue, and logs were piled under a wide eave that ran the length of the front. Several paned windows sat in the log walls. A barn, of similar construction, stood some ways off in the back.

  Aiden dismounted, jumping from his white horse at his front door. She watched him pull a lever high up, and the door swung inward. Then, unless Scarlet was willing to twist completely in her saddle or turn her horse toward him, she had to look away. She followed Kerrick with the other five Campbells bringing up the rear of their party. When the path widened, she pulled up level with the tall, affable Campbell.

  She cleared her throat, and Kerrick turned his head her way, smiling brightly. “I thought Aiden lived with his sister, Rebecca, on the edge of Killin Village,” she said.

  Kerrick’s smile slipped a bit but came back as he looked forward. “Nay, that is only Rebecca’s house now that their da died a few years back. Aiden built his cabin…oh, about ten years ago now. He only stayed at Rebecca’s while she cared for his burns.”

  Scarlet rode along, letting her body sway with Caora’s smooth gait. “What did his father die from?”

  “Jack Campbell?” Kerrick looked up as if trying to remember. “Fever I believe, an infection of sorts. It killed a couple of the elderly folks in town that winter.” He shook his head.

  “What about Aiden and Rebecca’s mother?” she asked, watching Kerrick’s profile.

  He shrugged. “Dead, I think. I came to Killin with my grandmother back when I was a lad. Aiden must have been about thirteen then. I don’t remember his mother being around.”

  Had he been close to his mother? Maybe the absence of a female in the household had hardened Aiden’s heart. “I would think it difficult to grow up without female attention.”

  Kerrick laughed, his eyebrows rising. “Oh, Aiden hasn’t been neglected by the lasses. They seem drawn to him like flies to dung, have been since I met him way back then.” He looked at her. “And he doesn’t send them away wanting.” Kerrick held her gaze, until she frowned and looked toward the loch.

  So, Aiden was a rogue? Did he save his brooding attitude and frowns just for her, then? Hmph. It was good, then, that she felt no attachment to him. Surely, the heat she’d felt last night in Grey’s room was due to the darkness and the warmth he gave off. She had no reason to fear falling into lust with the man, losing her reason and jeopardizing her newfound safety.

  She glanced at the dark-haired Highlander riding beside her. Kerrick was handsome, in a boyish way. Someone with whom she could tease and laugh without fear of losing herself to his influence. All the ladies said he was also very gentlemanly and reliable like a good brother. Unlike Aiden, Kerrick was safe. “So, Kerrick Campbell, tell me about yourself,” she said with a grin.

  …

  Balloch Castle was older than Finlarig, and Donald Campbell did not keep it up as well as Grey kept up Finlarig. Parts of the wall around it had fallen in, and the thatching on the outbuildings needed repair. Aiden would talk with Grey about sending some of the young warriors to work on it when he returned. After all, Donald was a Campbell cousin.

  Aiden had caught up with their party before they had ventured too far ahead. He’d just wanted to check in and gather some fresh shirts and take his father’s daggers, which were now hidden upon his body. They rode away from Balloch castle, along the loch that would take them to Castle Menzies. They had only visited long enough for Aiden to verify Finlay Menzies’s claim that he’d approached Donald first with his offer.

  Scarlet hadn’t said a word to him but had spent her time talking with Donald’s two younger daughters, persuading them to attend the school. Watching their suspicious frowns, Aiden could tell that her English accent had put them immediately on guard. They seemed to judge her poorly by her voice alone. He frowned. But hadn’t he done the same?

  He shook off the slight tug of guilt with a physical shake of his shoulders. Scarlet rode behind him again, next to Kerrick. He could hear the bloody besotted man regaling her with stories of Campbell prowess.

  “Grey and I rode out to meet the riders on the field beyond the village while the warriors were roused in town,” Kerrick said.

  “We were there right behind ye,” Lawrence called over.

  “Aye,” William said. “’Tis not like ye and Grey were meeting the whole raiding party on your own.”

  “You were all incredibly brave,” Scarlet said.

  Aiden kept his snort quiet and his gaze before him. In the distance, he could see Castle Menzies, soaring up on the swell of a bare hill. Situated with a low mountain at its back and a wide moor before it, it didn’t have a wall for protection. Either the Menzies weren’t threatened by the English, or they were too cocky to worry about protecting themselves.

  Scarlet rode up level with Aiden. “They have no wall?”

  “Nay.”

  “Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “Something ye can ask Finlay Menzies.”

  They rode up to the front of the Z-shaped fortress, much like Finlarig except without a wall to define the bailey. Several outbuildings sat about it and held horses, the kitchens, and pens for other animals. A small village lay beyond the castle, where snow drifted onto thatched cottages.

  “Hello,” Finlay called as he stepped out the front doors, followed by several of his men, whom Aiden recognized as some of the clan’s seasoned warriors, including Edgar Menzies, an advisor to the late chief.

  “We’ve come to view the flock,” Aiden said, tipping his head to Edgar.

  “Welcome, Lady Worthington,” Finlay said, walking up to her horse. He looked up at her. “I have learned a secret about ye,” he said, and Scarlet’s eyes widened slightly.

  He smiled up at her like a besotted fool. “Your Christian name is Scarlet, like the reddest rose.”

  She gave him a gentle smile. “I am a Highland Rose now. ’Tis the name of our school.”

  “Ah, of course,” he called, laughing abruptly, making Scarlet’s mare shy back.

  Scarlet stroked the horse’s neck, calming her. “Would someone be able to water and shelter our horses, so they will be ready to return after our inspection?”

  “Certainly,” Finlay called. “Though, I’m holding ye here for a meal before ye leave. My sister has returned, and I would like her to meet ye. She is such a senseless lass, loud and in need of discipline.”

  Finlay grabbed Scarlet around the waist to lift her down. “Sir,” she said, her tone admonishing, but he’d already slid her from the horse, the reins still in her hands.

  Aiden swung his leg over to dismount and strode to her side, followed by Kerrick. “Menzies,” Aiden started, but before he could say anything further, the young man lifted both hands from Scarlet and stepped back in surrender.

  Finlay grinned broadly. “Och, I was but helping the lady down.”

  Scarlet regarded him coolly. “I am very capable of dismounting on my own.”

  Aiden’s hand lingered near the hilt of his sword, and he met the wide-eyed stare of Finlay. Had the man read the unspoken threat? The side of Finlay’s mouth curved upward as he rubbed his chin. He turned, speaking over his shoulder. “Let us inside, out of this snow.”

  “I would see the flock,” Scarlet said, apparently not comfortable with the greeting, either.

  “After a warm drink.”

  As if the winter weather agreed, a gust swirled thick flakes around them. Aiden passed a look to Kerrick and the other Campbells. They would all be on guard.

  Aiden moved before Scarlet, while Kerrick took up the
position at her back. If she thought it unwarranted, she didn’t object. Stepping inside, Aiden was struck by the richness of the great hall. Thick tapestries graced the walls and floors, insulating the room against much of the winter cold. A cheery fire crackled in the giant hearth at the end, and a long wooden table with chairs filled the middle of the room. A lit iron candelabrum hung on a chain to illuminate a basket of rolls and plates of meat and root vegetables. A serving man filled tankards along the table, and two more hefted a steaming iron pot.

  “A bite, and then we will see the flock,” Finlay said. Grinning like a benevolent prince, the cocky chief held a chair out for Scarlet. Aiden had the impulse to sit in it himself but held back.

  Scarlet moved forward with the grace of a woman used to walking across a ballroom. She gave Finlay a brief nod and sat in the seat he held, letting him push it under her. Her back remained stiff and straight. “There,” Finlay said and motioned for the men to take seats around his table with him at the top. He leaned toward one of the servers. “See if Cici is presentable enough to come down.” The man hurried away.

  Finlay’s own men also sat, several of them nodding to the Campbell warriors. They were neighbors, after all, and even though there had been feuds and raids in the past, they had grown up meeting and competing at festivals through the years. Aiden was fairly certain that one of the Campbell lasses had wed a Menzies.

  Scarlet untied her red cloak and let it slip from her head and shoulders. A lady’s maid came forward to shake the melting snow from it. Aiden scanned the well-appointed keep, noting corridors and the exit.

  Finlay lifted his tankard. “A blessing on this exchange.” He took a long haul off of his ale. As the Campbells had been taught to do, Aiden, as the acting chief, took a drink first. The others would wait for the count of ten before the next in line, Kerrick, would drink. No fast-acting poison could wipe out the whole party of men, leaving Scarlet without defense.

  Finlay didn’t seem to notice as he jabbered away to Scarlet about the castle and Menzies’ vast lands. “Our village has a chapel, smithy, apothecary, and a tavern.”