Highlander’s Gypsy Lass (Highlander's 0f Clan Macgregor Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

Rosalie felt her stomach rumble beneath her hand. Anna looked at Enoch. He was off in another world, grinning at a woman scraping the meat from a stretched hide. She cleared her throat.

  Enoch’s attention returned. “Ye jus’ ate,” he scolded, reluctant to turn over a single coin.

  “Don’ be like that,” Anna batted her eyelashes.

  Enoch looked at Rosalie, then decided it was in his best interest to spoil the girls a bit. He dropped a few coins into the woman’s cracked palms.

  “Thank ye, sir,” she said with a slight bow.

  She heaped ample servings of the mashed roots into trenchers of bread. Rosalie perked up at the smell of the meat gravy she slathered over the servings. It was gray and lumpy but smelled delicious enough.

  “It’s mutton,” the woman croaked as Anna sniffed at it suspiciously. “Raised an’ butchered ‘em myself. I sell yarn an’ scarves as well if yer interested.”

  “No, thank ye. Not today, at least,” Rosalie envied Anna’s good spirits.

  “Are ye two done yet? We’ve got business to finish. That man,” he looked back at the castle as if Declan still stood where the two spoke, “wants us to pick up some of his gear for Alexander to fix on our way back to camp.”

  Rosalie perked up at this. She was still bothered by Declan’s cold dismissal, but it softened the blow and concern to know he’d arranged for them to visit his homestead. Not wanting to seem too eager, Rosalie looked to Anna to answer, despite wanting to run back to the horses.

  Anna gave a sweeping glance over the rest of the stretch. There was not much there to catch her interest. “We can go, I ‘spose.”

  Rosalie struggled to keep the slow pace of the trio as they walked back, nibbling at the hot plate prepared by the old widow. Her appetite seemed to dissolve as she realized they might see Declan again that same day. She wished it was only her and Anna. It frightened her to think of Enoch observing herself and Declan.

  Wouldn’t matter naught, though, she sighed to herself, thinking of how Declan hardly glanced at her. It made her eager to see him, to see if any trace of affection existed in those big blue eyes. Had she imagined the spark between them?

  The ride seemed to slip by in seconds. Rosalie’s mind was overcome with fear of what might happen. Despite her excitement, part of her hoped they would not see Declan, and the other part longed for him to deliver her from her woes with his smile and muscular arms. She knew he was more fantasy than reality, but it was a fantasy that kept her heart beating with hope as she considered a lifetime tied to Enoch.

  The farm was one of the largest in the areas. Rosalie scanned the horizon. It acted as a gateway to the mountain passes and even forests in which her people camped. The green swells of hills and rockfaces rose beyond the vast expanse of pasture.

  They rode down the narrow dirt path that shot off from the main road. Rosalie was on edge, the conflicting emotions she felt seemed to buzz inside of her, making her alert and jumpy. She needed to calm herself if she was going to survive the next portion of this trip without drawing Enoch’s attention and wrath. Rosalie inhaled a deep breath and reminded herself that Declan wasn’t there. She felt her heart pang at remembering how well he’d forgotten her in the courtyard.

  With each turn of the path, she tried to imagine what it was like to live there. The horse plodded through the mud with heavy steps. She petted its long-maned neck with an absent mind.

  The others didn’t seem to notice her at all. Enoch was preoccupied with where he was headed. Rosalie was sure he was lost. The uncertainty stripped away his arrogance and twisted his features with frustration. Anna focused entirely on trailing Enoch. She stopped when he stopped, wavered as he wavered. They would gallop a few paces and pass a branching trail, only to loop back around and investigate it again.

  Rosalie hung back and took in the view. The walled pastures curved with the land, beyond sight. It was difficult to tell where to pick up the goods. There were no people around; only a couple of rogue goats and the occasional distant sheep, clotted like clouds hanging too close to the ground.

  Questions raced through her mind. She wondered if his family had built the estate, carving out a home for themselves in the harsh terrain. Each time they passed a rebuilt wall, marked by stones multiple shades lighter than the peat-stained black, she wondered if Declan repaired them himself. The image of his broad shoulders and rippling muscles heaving each stone into place warmed her with desire and excitement.

  The cold wind invigorated her thoughts, sending her to another place, and conjuring vivid daydreams of what living there was like. Rosalie imagined a world where she rose with an eased heart, commanded only by her own will and spirit. She would wake up slowly before sunrise and work hard, witnessing the fruits of her labor blossom over time.

  A dream, she thought to herself, letting her fantasies escape. She pushed down the logic reminded of the hard work, the pressures, and fear of starvation that came with such a life. If anything went wrong, it would wash away the greener pastures just over the wall, and no doubt, the moment hunger or sickness struck, she would find herself pining for the life she already had.

  “It’s not much further,” Enoch said, more as if consoling himself than them.

  In the distance, a horse rode up in a fury. It knew the grounds enough to know which puddles and holes to avoid. Within a hundred yards, it slowed. The horse whinnied as it shook off its rushing blood. Great plumes of steam rose from its hot haunches into the crisp afternoon air.

  Rosalie watched Enoch’s confidence return. He stood straighter than before and tightened his grip on the reins. His horse straightened out and trotted directly towards the old man.

  It was the same man they’d seen with Declan the day before. His face was worn from the wind and sun, but his eyes were kind and wise. He sported a full head of snow-colored hair. Although relieved to put off another encounter with Declan in Enoch’s presence, Rosalie felt disappointed.

  “Oi, yer here fer the pots an’ horseshoes, no?”

  “Aye,” Enoch replied.

  “Follow me tae the stable.” He turned his horse around to lead the way and yelled back over his shoulder, “Ma name’s Hugh; I’m Declan’s left-han’. He tol’ me ye’d be comin’.”

  Hugh pulled up parallel to Rosalie. Enoch glowered at being pushed just behind the redhead. Rosalie looked behind. She couldn’t help but think he looked like a child, pouting just behind her. She shook it off and turned her attention to the workhand. Within moments, a sullen Enoch dropped back to ride with Anna, leaving them to private conversation.

  “Is it nice workin’ here?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes, I’ve been here all ma life, an’ my dad ‘fore me.” A genuine, jolly sparkle glittered in his eyes as his gaze swept over the hillside, into nostalgia.

  “Is it difficult workin’ fer Declan, him bein’ so much younger an’ all?”

  The man eyed her a moment before answering. He peeked back at Enoch for the briefest moment. What did he know? she wondered. His face still twisted in irritation as Anna chittered excitedly in his ear, Enoch didn’t seem to care about what they were talking about in the slightest.

  “Chief Declan o’ the Gregor Clan, ye mean.” He enunciated the formality and tried to gauge the girl’s reaction from the corner of his eye.

  Rosalie swallowed hard. “Chief?” she whispered.

  The word was lost in the wind and heavy footfall of her mount. He hadn’t said anything the night before. She worried she’d offended Hugh, but before she had an opportunity to apologize, a warm, knowing smile broke over his face.

  “Aye, he’s fair, lassie.”

  The man’s accent was thicker than Declan’s. It took Rosalie a moment to pick some of the words out. Even so, she understood the gist of what he was saying and smiled to show she was listening.

  “It is not like with other steads though, ye mus’ understand. This is as much my land an’ home as it is his, ye ken.” There was no bitterness in his words. It was a sim
ple declaration. “I care fer it with the same vigor as he. Ye see that tree there?” The man pointed to a great juniper on the horizon. The sun’s rays haloed around the piney silhouette, breaking the smooth lines of the hillside.

  “Aye, I see it.”

  “I planted that when ma oldest son was but a wee bairn. An o’er there?” Rosalie followed his outstretched hand toward the mountains gliding into the pasture. One of the rock faces was steep with loose scree. The green melted into granite and black slate, dropping at an extreme angle down the mountainside. Rosalie nodded. “I fell down that in ma twelfth year.” He nodded to himself. Pride glowed from his sun-touched cheeks as he remembered the narrow escape. “Broke ma arm an’ leg. Couldae been much worse.”

  Rosalie’s eyes widened in both fear and amazement as she tried to imagine such a drop. “Yer ma mustae been sick with worry,” she gasped.

  Hugh laughed. “Aye, she was.” His smile faded as another memory took hold. They plodded on in silence.

  Off in the distance, she could hear the soft echo of stone hitting stone and the occasional faded call of men working. Rosalie straightened in her saddle and tried to spot the origin of the sounds. They must have been tucked away behind one of the hills. Rosalie could not see them.

  Hugh could see her straighten and search. “They’re workin’ by the stream.”

  “The stream?” she echoed in a soft voice. Her lips parted in awe as she imagined the crystal blue water twisting just out of sight through the enchanted home.

  “Aye,” Hugh chuckled at Rosalie, shaking his head at her wonder. “Aye.”

  The old man’s voice grounded Rosalie in the present once more. She blinked away the vision and turned to see Hugh staring right at her. Rosalie’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was as if he could read her thoughts. She needed to be more careful in concealing her emotions. Enoch’s guard was down now, but only because he lacked the presence of a man who threatened him. If this stranger could see through her now, Enoch would no doubt see through her the moment they were both face-to-face with Declan.

  “It’s beautiful, no?” The question came out as a single, slurred word.

  Rosalie looked at him, her head cocked to one shoulder until she realized what he was trying to say. Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, aye! I didnae think it were large enough fer a stream, too.”

  Hugh nodded. “This is nothin’. Our lands stretch beyond those mountains there an’ even include the forests where yer people are stayin’. An’ only part o’ the clan up here.”

  “There’s more?” Rosalie gasped. That explained why Lady Margaret sent Declan out to find the camp. They were staying on his lands.

  “Aye,” he laughed. “This holdin’ bein’ so close to the Campbells and all. The soil’s rich, though. Declan’ll be here until harvest an’ then move on in time tae deliver grain tae the res’ o’ our people ‘fore winter.”

  Rosalie bit her lip. The air was cold. It would still be a few weeks before summer faded entirely, but it approached faster than she wished. It was unlikely Alexander would keep them here through the winter as well. She shook away the thoughts and looked at Enoch and Anna. None of it matters. She sighed and focused on her loose grip on the reins.

  It seemed as if they rode for miles before Hugh dismounted and opened the door to a barn. He laughed as Enoch followed him in. “Las’ night, somethin’ came over him. He saw you were here, an’ decided everythin’ needed fixin’. We were up until…” he inhaled deeply. Rosalie hung on the words, eager to hear what came next. “I don’ know how long—damn ‘til mornin’ gatherin’ everythin’. Never seen a fire lit under him like tha’. Usually nightfall, an’ he done ‘til mornin’.”

  Enoch seemed disinterested in the old man’s banter. All he cared about were the pile of goods in the barn and how that translated into currency. “This’ll cost ye,” he said, uncertain the farm could afford it.

  “I knows it.” The man wiped dust and sweat from his brow with a ragged handkerchief. “He insists it needs to be done ‘fore winter, ye ken. Says we don’ do it now, we’ll ne’er do it. I reckon there’s somethin’ tae that.”

  “We willnae be able tae get all o’ it now.”

  “Aye.”

  “Rosalie, Anna,” Enoch ordered. Anna was stooped over a pen, keeping a goat corralled, and about fell backward at the sound of her name. “Load up what ye can. I’m sure he’ll bring more in the morn.”

  Without a cart, their horses could only support so much weight. It did not take long before they were at capacity. Enoch was the first to remount. Rosalie put a foot in her stirrup before Hugh called out, “Hol’ it, lassie.” He ran up to her, a soft bundle in his hands, “He were particular abou’ this ‘un. It were ‘is mum’s. Handle it with care.” He looked her in the eyes as he handed the precious parcel to her. As her fingers passed under his, she could feel the familiar texture of paper. Rosalie’s heart jumped. The old man had slipped her a note.

  Rosalie’s heart pounded as she felt the thick paper. She turned her back to Anna and Enoch, pretending to fiddle with the straps of her saddlebags to hide the parchment. Beneath the soft wool of her dress, the small square fit along the curve of her breast. Its touch sent a rush of excitement through her. The young woman took a deep breath to calm herself, afraid her joy would shine from every pore, before securing Declan’s possession and turning around.

  “Hurry it up, Rosalie,” Enoch growled.

  She bit her tongue. Enoch’s impatience invoked more anger from her than usual. Declan’s note blazed on her chest, a physical reminder of how her life was not her own. Enoch started at a light gallop before she was fully saddled. Rosalie gave Hugh a brief parting wave goodbye before kicking her horse into a run to catch up. As they ran down the winding road cutting through the property, the men had started their walk back from the river.

  As Rosalie bounded past, Declan rose from the horizon like a pagan god. She wished she could have passed him slower. He had removed his shirt to work, and his skin glistened beneath the sun. She didn’t even have enough time to smile. However, she was not blind. The way he looked at her sent a warmth spreading over her stomach and down to her thighs.

  The intensity in that stare would haunt Rosalie until she received closure. It would stay with her until she read the note and could put her heart at ease to its meaning.

  Chapter Six

  Declan glanced after her, dumbfounded. His heart raced as his gaze took in the way her shapely bottom bounced in its saddle, a wild mane of hair flying free behind her. He touched his palm to his heart and grimaced at the unfamiliar strain pulling at his chest. Sure, he’d seen plenty of beautiful women, but there was something more about her spirit that made him long to touch her, to hold her, to claim her.

  He shook away the foolishness as the trio shrank in the distance… he didn’t even know her. The company traveling with her… the lust he felt a moment before vanished as Declan remembered Enoch slipping stolen goods into his pockets. Anger boiled within him. If he weren’t her escort, Declan would have pummeled him in the courtyard. It took all of his will power to restrain himself while they discussed the trade.

  Other fears surfaced within Declan. He ran his hand over his stubbled jaw and questioned who Enoch was to Rosalie and if she’d received his letter in safety from prying eyes. All that seemed to fade as his body remembered how she felt against him, gripping him for stability when he plucked her from the river.

  All worries were outweighed, common sense and caution obliterated by the desire to hold her again… to have her surrender in the safety of his arms. His mouth dried as he tried to imagine what it would be like to press his lips against hers and taste her perfectly carved mouth.

  Someone called out his name. He turned away from the spot she’d ridden past. There was still work to do before dark.

  Up ahead, Rosalie fought the urge to look over her shoulder at Declan. There was no risk of Enoch noticing, but she knew the Highland chief would see. She touched the p
lace of the note and blushed.

  The entire ride back, Rosalie was in a daze. She would dream and then worry about Declan. Her thoughts came crashing down all at once as they approached the forest’s edge.

  Until then, the rush and excitement of seeing Declan as well as the note fueled her. Dread replaced the glee as Enoch pulled up his reins. In a fluid movement, he dismounted and stayed his horse. Enoch plucked a flower growing from a crawling vine. He held it up to Rosalie as her horse slowed to a stop. Anna tipped her head and smiled.

  “Aww,” she said.

  Rosalie forced a smile at the gesture as her eyes met his… no affection glistened there. He was going through the motions. It was a stark contrast compared to the powerful feeling Declan’s gaze carried. His face had been stone, and yet, one look seemed to touch her soul.

  If she married Enoch, this is what it would be like: an arrangement—a series of tasks completed not with love, but with expectation. She wondered what he got out of this, other than a pretty bride. With his family ties, he could choose to stay single without fear, not like Rosalie.