Historical Hearts Romance Collection

by Sophia Wilson

The older woman sighed. This was the fifth girl she had brought for the laird, and he was unmoved by all of them. This was taking more time than she liked.

  Then she remembered – the Maid he had abducted, who resided at the castle. The Jewel of the Highlands, she was called. Mistress Finley had a new girl, who bore a slight resemblance to the famed Maid. A girl with long golden hair, at any rate.

  She smiled. “I have a new girl, my laird. Come to us from Paris, no less! Her name is Mimi.”

  Mimi appeared, strutting into the room with a seductive smile on her face. She was wearing a sheer robe, so that he could see the whole of her body through it. Her nipples were rosy. Her hair was loosely knotted on top of her head. Suddenly, she undid it, her golden locks falling free around her.

  He felt a faint stirring. She looked a bit like his Jewel – didn’t she? But the more she paraded for him, the less he liked her. Yes, she had golden hair, but it wasn’t as lustrous. Her skin was pale, but blemished slightly, unlike his Jewel’s flawless skin. And her eyes – well, no one could have eyes as stunning.

  He suddenly didn’t know what he was doing here. None of these women could hold a candle to her. Why then wasn’t he with her, when he knew how beautiful she was, when he couldn’t wait to make love to her?

  He frowned. He didn’t know anymore. Was it because he had always done this? And that, sometimes, after nights of ravishing her, he felt somehow suffocated – and needed his space.

  But then he missed her, when he was away from her. And couldn’t wait to get back.

  He stood up. Mistress Finley raised an eyebrow. The girl stood there, hands on hips.

  “Thank you, Mistress. But I have just remembered – I must be elsewhere.”

  He strode out of the room. He couldn’t do this anymore.

  Both women watched him go, mouths agape. It wasn’t often a man left their establishment without satisfaction.

  ***

  He was almost back to Dunnottar.

  He felt the brooch in his pocket as he rode. Yes, still safe.

  It had taken him a whole day. A whole day of going from one jewelry merchant to another. But eventually, he had found it. It was perfect.

  He remembered the day he had brought her fresh cut blood red roses from the garden. She was happy, and then she turned her head. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  He was baffled. Had he done something wrong?

  “It is the color,” she whispered. “Bright red. My father gave me a brooch, once, when I was young. It was a precious ruby, set in gold. The color of the roses reminds me of it; that is all.”

  He didn’t know what the brooch from her father looked like. But he had found a brooch with a single ruby, set in intricate gold. He couldn’t wait to give it to her.

  He raced into the courtyard, dismounting his horse quickly. He ran up the stairs to the chamber, where he knew she would be.

  She was sitting in the chair by the window, embroidering. She looked up, startled, when he burst into the room.

  “There you are.” He strode to her, kneeling in front of her. “I have something for you.” He got the brooch out and placed it in her hands.

  She gazed down at it. “Thank you.” She looked away.

  He frowned. “I got it because it is a ruby brooch. I thought you would like it.”

  “I do,” she said, and then she sighed. She looked at him. “Where have you been?’

  “In town,” he said evasively. “Business.”

  “Business that you need to conduct with your clothes off?”

  He rounded on her, eyes wide. “Watch your tongue, Madam!”

  “Why should I?” She was fearful, but couldn’t stop herself now. “You keep me like a prisoner! Guards watch over me all day – I can’t even go to the privy without someone watching me! Then you leave for days, always bringing back gifts. Why?”

  His face started twitching. “I thought you liked them.”

  She turned on him. “Oh yes, I love all of your gifts! But I am not a lap dog that you can humor with titbits. I know that you frequent the whorehouse in Aberdeen.”

  He reddened. “And so? What if I do?”

  She raised her head. “Nothing to me, Sir. But I will have you know – I am a laird’s daughter! You lock me away, and expect me to jump for joy when you condescend to pat me on the head!”

  Her eyes were flashing. “I am not even your lawful wife! You treat me worse than one of the women in that brothel! I demand you take me to my home. I will not live another day in this godless place!”

  He paled. “But, my Jewel...”

  She screamed. “Don’t call me that! It is not my name. You don’t even call me by my name! I am just a possession to you, a ‘jewel’ you have acquired that other men desire.”

  She walked up to him, standing in front of his face. “My name is Heather. Heather!”

  Chapter Eight

  Dougal looked at her, stunned. He had never seen her so angry.

  Her amber eyes flashed. She was panting, heavily. He could see that she was shaking all over.

  She had never looked so beautiful to him, as she did in that moment.

  Her words penetrated his mind. My name is Heather. Heather!

  Dear God, what had he done?

  She was right. He had never uttered her name, nor thought of it. She had always been the Jewel of the Highlands, to him. A beautiful woman, but a possession, nonetheless. A plaything, who sat in his room waiting for him to dally with. Just as he had done with his wooden swords back when he was in the nursery.

  He saw her, as for the first time. A flesh and blood woman, with a name of her own. With feelings, and thoughts, and desires.

  He grabbed her in his arms, holding her tightly. “Heather,” he whispered, wonderingly. He took her face in his hands, looking down into it intently. “I am so sorry.”

  She stilled, looking up at him. He seemed to drown in the depths of her amber eyes.

  He picked her up, walking as if in a dream to the bed. He put her down slowly, and then climbed onto it. He turned to her, caressing her. Her breathing started to quicken.

  He climbed on top of her, gazing down into her face again. And that is when he knew. It pierced his heart as surely as an arrow.

  He loved her, body and soul. Not just the shell of her, or the image of her, but the whole woman.

  He softly kissed away the tears that were starting to trickle down her face.

  “I love you, Heather,” he whispered. Her eyes widened.

  “Is it true?” she whispered back.

  “Aye, it’s true. I pledge myself to you.” He kissed her gently on the lips.

  The kiss was drawn out, and tender. She melted.

  “I love you, Dougal,” she whispered. It was the first time she had called him by his name.

  They made love, slowly, as the dying light of the day filled the room, coloring it in many shades of orange.

  ***

  They lay in each other’s arms afterwards, silent.

  Heather had never dreamt that such passion could exist. It was as if the declaration of their love had heightened the experience.

  She had known she was developing feelings for him, besides the desire he evoked in her. But she hadn’t realized she was in love, until he had seen her as she was.

  But then, she remembered where he had been, that day.

  She had gotten the information out of Grizel, eventually. The servant was puzzled by how much it upset her.

  “Do not worry so, Madam,” she had said. “It is just the way of men. They are like the beasts in the field, sniffing after every female that comes their way! It has always been so. The laird has lain with just about every woman within miles of the castle.”

  Heather had stilled. “Has he lain with you?” She looked at the servant.

  Grizel had blushed. “Aye,” she said. “Once or twice.”

  Heather couldn’t look at her and had dismissed her quickly. She didn’t understand the feelings that were burning
inside of her. All she knew was that it enraged her to think of him lying with another woman, doing the same things to Grizel as he did to her.

  She turned to him as he lay on the bed next to her, his eyes closed, a satisfied smile on his face.

  “Why do you lay with other women?” The words had left her mouth before she could stop them.

  He opened his eyes, and looked at her.

  “I don’t know,” he answered slowly. “Because I have always done so. But where I went today…” He stopped, hesitating. “I couldn’t think of anyone but you, when I was there. No other woman compares to you. I have no desire for them anymore.”

  His voice quavered slightly. “I love you, Heather. I will love you til the day that I die. I pledge to you, from this day forward, that I will not lie with another woman again.”

  Heather turned to him. “Do you mean it?”

  “Aye,” he said softly. “I am sorry I have caused you pain. I know how hard it must be for you, locked away here. I will let you have more freedom.”

  He grabbed her suddenly. “But you must promise me. I could not bear to lose you. We are meant to be together.”

  Heather swallowed. “I promise,” she whispered.

  The call of her clan seemed to fade into the night. She belonged here, with her love.

  She had made her choice.

  Why then, did such unease lay on her soul?

  ***

  He held a banquet, a few weeks later, in the grand hall at Dunnottar.

  The servants were amazed. They had never been instructed to go to such lengths before.

  New candles had been ordered from Aberdeen. The servants were running around, cleaning and polishing silver. Masses of fresh flowers were picked from the garden and displayed proudly around the hall.

  But the most impressive thing was the dress.

  Grizel gasped when she saw it finished. The dressmaker from Aberdeen had been sent urgently to complete it in time. It was magnificent; a flowing vision of crimson silk and brocade.

  Heather looked stunning in it. The deep red of the dress contrasted beautifully with her flowing golden hair.

  “Madam, you are lovelier than a queen,” Grizel breathed. Heather had smiled, enjoying the feel of the silk against her skin.

  Why shouldn’t she take pleasure in such a beautiful gown? And feel proud, when someone called her beautiful? The words of Father Duffy, that a woman must always be humble, seemed to fade in her mind.

  She had swept down the grand staircase, to gasps from all that beheld her.

  But the only eyes that she sought were from one man – her love.

  He was richly attired, himself. She thought he had never looked more handsome than this night, in his formal kilt and scabbard. He held out his arm for her.

  “May I escort you, Madam?” he asked, smiling. She smiled back, taking his arm as he led her into the hall.

  They took their places at the head of the main table. Everyone else stood behind their chairs, waiting to be asked to be seated by their laird.

  Dougal took a deep breath. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called. “Failte! We are honored that you have traveled for this banquet.” He turned to Heather beside him. “Before the festivities begin, may I introduce to you my betrothed, Heather, the Maid of Caithness. This banquet is in her honor, to announce my intention to marry her. Could you all raise your cups to her!”

  The assembled picked up their cups, raising them to Heather.

  “Slainte!” Dougal toasted her.

  “Slainte!” the assembled responded, downing their cups.

  Heather raised her cup in response.

  For once, she didn’t mind being the center of attention.

  For she had never been happier in her life, at this moment, seated beside her one true love.

  Chapter Nine

  Heather’s head throbbed slightly when she lifted if off her pillow the following morning.

  Why did it pain her so? Then she remembered the several cups of ale she had consumed at the banquet. So, it was true, what Father Duffy had always told her – the devil drink would rise up to bite you in the tail.

  Her muscles were sore, too. She vaguely remembered Dougal ravishing her when they had left the banquet to retire. She had matched him; the bed linen was strewn everywhere. She remembered he had called her a hellcat when they had eventually finished and fallen asleep.

  She stretched, smiling smugly. The pleasures of the flesh were indeed amazing. No wonder the church preached so strongly against overindulging in it. You could lose your way from God in pursuit of such earthly delight, she thought.

  Grizel entered the chamber. “Madam, you must awake! I have exciting news.”

  Heather sat up, and then laid her head back down when it started throbbing anew. “What are you on about, Grizel?”

  The servant smiled. “A traveling fair, Madam, has come! It is setting up on the banks of the Dee, just outside Aberdeen! I haven’t been to one since I was a child.”

  Heather smiled. “Aye, well, you are luckier than I – I have never been. I was never allowed, as a child. And the church frowns on such things.”

  Grizel rolled her eyes. “It frowns on everything that is a bit of fun,” she scoffed. “Oh, Madam, you must go! There are jesters and jugglers…I enjoy the storytellers, and the puppeteers…”

  Heather laughed. “Calm down, Grizel! Of course, we will go, if my laird allows it.”

  Grizel raised an eyebrow. “The laird will let you do anything now that you are betrothed,” she said.

  It was true. Dougal had relaxed, and no longer had guards follow her wherever she went in the castle. He seemed intent on showing her that she was no longer his prisoner; that he trusted her. It was a good omen for their future together.

  “Where is my laird today?” Heather asked.

  “Gone to Aberdeen with Knox, to see to some business,” Grizel replied.

  Heather blanched. What business was he seeing to? Then she remembered his promise to her. If he could trust her not to run away, then she could trust him not to lie with another woman.

  “Aye,” Heather said decisively. “We will breakfast, and then I will see if I can get a man or two to take us to the fair. What do you say to that?”

  Grizel clapped her hands together in delight.

  ***

  The fair was teeming with people by the time they arrived later that day.

  Tents had been erected. Jugglers were strolling through the crowds, entertaining with their brightly colored balls. Heather could hear pipers in the distance.

  She was entranced. The spectacle! Everyone was intent on enjoying themselves.

  They wondered for a while amongst the stalls, looking at the exotic wares on display. There were silks from China, and precious stones from the Far East. Heather had never seen such beautiful wares.

  But the best thing was the entertainers. There were jugglers and jesters, yes, but also more exotic entertainers, the likes of which Heather had never heard of. A crowd gasped as a man carefully put a torch aflame in his mouth, seeming to eat it. Another swallowed a sword; Heather could barely watch as he did it. Acrobats were jumping through the crowds, spinning like tops. Further afield, she could see men indulging in wrestling contests.

  They were watching a tightrope walker carefully balancing on a thin piece of rope when Heather felt suddenly overwhelmed. She staggered slightly; Grizel had to put out a hand to steady her.

  “Madam? Are you alright?” Grizel was frowning.

  Heather smiled wanly. “I feel a little faint,” she replied. “I might sit down for a bit. No, you stay here Grizel, and continue watching the walker.”

  Grizel protested, but Heather was adamant.

  She walked further from the crowd, to a cul-de-sac toward the far end of the fair. She could see seats set up. She would sit for a while, and hopefully start to feel better. It wasn’t surprising, really. Apart from the fact that she had rarely been in crowds in her life, she had been isolated a
t the castle for a long time.

  She found the seat and sat down gratefully. There seemed to be no one around.

  “You feel sick, as if the crowds are coming toward you. The world has started to spin.”

  Heather reefed her head around. Where had the voice come from?

  A woman was walking toward her. But she was unlike any person Heather had ever seen.

  Old as the hills, but sprightly. She wore layers of brightly colored clothes, with tassels and fringes. Her white hair was covered with a bright pink scarf and a multi layered head chain. A skirt of silver coins dangled around her waist, making jingling sounds as she walked.

  But what stood out to Heather the most were her eyes. Dark as night, they were rimmed in black and seemed to burn into her soul.

  “Who are you?” Heather whispered, spellbound.

  The woman smiled, exposing strong white teeth. “I am Oshina.” The woman spoke with an accent unknown to Heather. She stopped, then turned and gestured to her. “Come.”

  Heather stood up, following the woman. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own.

  Oshina paused at the entrance to a tent. “If you follow me in here, you will find out things that might pain you,” she said. She gazed at Heather, her dark eyes boring into her. “Also, I require payment.”

  Heather stilled. What was she doing? This woman was obviously some kind of sorceress from over the seas. The church had strong views on such people. She really should turn and walk away, back to Grizel and her guards.

  But something was compelling her not to. She felt in her pocket. There was a small stone of agate in there that she had bought from one of the merchants. She pulled it out.

  “Will this do?” she said. Oshina appraised it, and then smiled again, gesturing for Heather to step into the tent.

  Heather parted a curtain of hanging beads to enter. It was dark; she blinked to adjust her eyes. Then strange shapes emerged. She jumped when a strange looking cat atop a trunk started hissing and spitting at her. She had to stop from crossing herself.

  Oshina led her to a table, gesturing for her to sit down, and then sat opposite.

  “Hand me your palm.” Oshina’s voice seemed far away.