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

by Kenna Kendrick

  The few homes on his lands packed into tight rings. He guided her through until they reached a house whose back wall was the sheer stone cliff of the mountain. They stood there for a moment, just looking at it. Rosalie admired the small marks of home and trees shading the little garden out front.

  “This is where I grew up.”

  Rosalie tried to imagine what it was like to live there. She peeked up at the tall Highlander and flushed at the adoration in his eyes. The daydreams of life on his stead vanished as Declan’s hand slipped over the small of her back and wrapped around her waist, turning her toward him.

  She tipped her head up to look into his deep blue eyes and felt her body weaken as anticipation trembled in her thighs. He reached his hand up and touched her cheek. She closed her eyes, feeling more relaxed than since she could remember. Declan pushed one of her curls behind her ear, tracing the curve of her face.

  Declan leaned in, and Rosalie lost herself where their lips met. She could smell myrtle and mountain air wafting from his thick locks. Rosalie could taste the tang of sweat on his lips from a long day of hard labor. Her knees buckled. Her hands spread open over his chest, pressing into him for stability. He pushed her hips in towards him and cradled her soft head with his other hand.

  The world disappeared. All sounds and worries vanished as their tongues danced in bliss. He inhaled her sweet aroma and cupped her small face in his hands, pulling her into him as he kissed her in short, passionate bursts.

  All the magic cut out when someone grabbed Rosalie’s hair. Rosalie’s head jerked back with the sudden force pulling her to the ground. She screamed out. Before either of them could register what was happening, Rosalie was torn from Declan’s arms. The young woman kicked and screamed, trying to free herself from her attacker.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The fire on her scalp subsided. Rosalie had enough time to look up before a boot slammed into her ribs.

  “Harlot!” Enoch screamed, his eyes black with primal rage.

  The next moments passed in a blur as Rosalie choked on sobs of shock and pain as her vision filled with horses, men, and torches. The screaming and commotion blended into an unintelligent roar. She gripped her throbbing side and tried to hurry back in the dirt, away from Enoch. Rosalie glanced back at Declan, his sword was drawn. An unfathomable hatred darkened his features. Enoch’s weapon was out, and seeing her attempt to crawl back, he snapped at her like a viper, wrapping her long hair around his fist and drawing her back as he stood over her. Declan’s clansmen surrounded them, ready to fall on Enoch the moment Rosalie was safe from his grasp.

  “Let go o’ me!” Rosalie screamed.

  “Shut yer whore mouth.” He hoisted her up, his arm hooked around her neck and choking her. “Ye’d choose this brute o’er me an’ yer people?”

  Rosalie could not answer. Enoch’s grip crushed her throat. She struggled to pull panicked breaths through her nose. Lightheadedness blurred her vision and brought on confusion.

  “Drop yer weapon. No one needs tae die, traveler.”

  Enoch snarled and spat on the ground.

  Hugh stepped forward. “We ‘ave ye surrounded. The only way outtae this is the le’ the gal go.”

  Enoch looked between her and the strong, armed clansmen, anxious to cut him down for invading their home.

  “Ye le’ the gal go an’ drop yer sword.”

  “I’m no fool. Ye’ll cut me down the second I’m unarmed.”

  The insult to Declan’s honor made him tighten his grip on his weapon. His next words growled out through clenched teeth.

  “On me honor as a Gregor, ye release her an’ drop yer weapon, an’ no one ‘ll cut ye down tonight. We can lay down our swords an’ handle this like men.”

  He extended his hand, shifting his blade parallel to the ground as a show of goodwill. The moonlight sparkled off the steel.

  “Ain’t no other way outtae here,” Hugh hollered, trying to cloak his terror of Rosalie dying in front of them.

  Enoch’s conviction wavered; he was trapped. He looked back at Rosalie and screamed in a fury. Next thing she knew, she skidded across the dirt, scraping her hands and face. The swords dropped in a deafening clatter, followed by the mighty smashing of bodies like an ocean storm against a sea wall.

  Hugh skirted the brawl and ushered the dazed and shaking Rosalie to safety. All Rosalie could see was them grappling in the dirt. Enoch managed to get on top of Declan. Rosalie squealed and turned towards Hugh as Enoch’s fist smashed into Declan’s jaw.

  “Le’s get ye outtae here, lassie.” Hugh’s voice was calm and soothing.

  Rosalie wouldn’t hear of it. Tears streamed down her face. “No, I cannae leave him. It’s all ma fault.”

  She tore away from Hugh and turned to see Declan take the upper hand. He delivered a hit to Enoch’s temple with enough power to stun him. Enoch curled into himself, trying to protect his neck and organs from Declan’s pummeling fists. Rosalie feared he might kill Enoch.

  “Stop!”

  Rosalie almost bit off her tongue at the sound of Alexander’s voice behind her. Declan ceased his attack, looming over Enoch, heaving deep breaths with his fists clenched tight, not quite ready to stop. Enoch scrambled from under him and paced back and forth, eying his sword and then Declan and Alexander.

  “Leave it, Enoch.”

  Rosalie could hardly breathe. Magda, Alexander, and Anna were all on horseback. Anna couldn’t even look as her face blazed with shame.

  “How could you?” the words escaped Rosalie’s lips in one shuddering breath. Anna squeaked as she choked on her tears.

  “Silence, Rosalie,” Magda commanded. “Get on yer horse, girl,” she spat as if trying to rid her mouth of a foul taste. The old woman didn’t look at Rosalie as she spoke. Rosalie looked at Declan; his eyes transfixed on Enoch.

  “Now!” Magda’s tone made her jump. She reluctantly walked, head bowed, to one of the two horses waiting for them.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered to Hugh in passing. Declan stood and picked his sword from the dirt before resheathing it. Enoch gripped his and held it as if weighing his options.

  “Don’t lose yer life o’er this folly,” Alexander spoke out.

  Enoch rubbed his jaw before resheathing his sword and cutting through the parting crowd. The moment he mounted, Enoch tore off into the night.

  Declan walked towards Alexander. Alexander maintained his collected composure.

  “We will deliver yer goods untouched on the morrow. Any work already completed, we’ll count as a peace offerin’.”

  Declan nodded. He was still too furious for anything else. If the blood were not burning through him, he would have smoothed things over, but his diplomacy vanished when Rosalie screamed. It took all of his strength to keep from riding Enoch down like a rabid dog. He watched as the travelers parted. Declan’s heart about broke when Rosalie turned, and he saw the pained look in her eyes. How he wished he could console her, to check her all over, and tend to her. It tore at his insides, not knowing if she would be safe away from him.

  The camp was in upheaval. Members of their Roma community watched with curiosity and disdain as the two pillars of their community led Rosalie and Anna home. Rosalie’s face burned with shame as she saw the looks of disapproval and judgment on men and women’s faces alike. They didn’t try to hide their gossiping about her.

  Anna flew to hide in her tent the moment they dismounted. With the brief glimpses of her face in passing, Rosalie could see she cried the entire ride. Though angry, it pained to see her friend in such a state. She wished Anna had never followed her.

  Magda and Alexander remained silent as they led the way to Magda’s caravan for a small modicum of privacy away from the camp. Dread weighed down Rosalie’s entire body. It scared her that Magda did not scream or reprimand her once throughout the short journey back to camp. Her anger and disappointment took her beyond the point of correction. It felt as if Rosalie was walking up to the executioner’s bloc
k. Each step was heavy, and her mind rolled with thoughts of everything she might lose in the next moments.

  What would she do if Alexander made her leave immediately, in the dead of night? She could run to Declan for help, but what would his people think of her after seeing such a display? And Enoch… Rosalie looked around; there was no sign of him. Knowing him, he wasn’t through with Declan, not with how humiliated he was. Rosalie cringed as the image of their fists pounding into each other replayed in her mind.

  Magda held the door open. Rosalie made the mistake of looking up at her as she stepped up the short pair of steps. The old woman’s lips pressed in a hard line. Anger shot from her eyes, but what shook Rosalie the most was the fear and sorrow wetting Magda’s eyes. She looked as if she would cry if she relaxed her lips. Magda never cried.

  For the first time, this steel-boned woman looked fragile. What would happen to her if I were gone? She lamented to herself.

  The caravan was narrow, designed for a single person. A small bed took up the width of the trailer, lining the back wall, with a table bolted beneath the shuttered window. Complete with two narrow chairs. A small oven, rugs, and cabinets occupied the rest of the wagon.

  The space was tight with three people. Rosalie took a seat on the bed as she did in childhood. Magda slumped into one of the chairs, covering her face with her wrinkled hands. Alexander chose to remain standing, bracing himself with one hand on the narrow table.

  The silence seemed to carry a deadening weight. Rosalie could not read Alexander. She thought she saw a glimmer of understanding in his wise eyes.

  “Well, what d’ye have to say fer yerself, girl?” Magda broke the tension.

  Rosalie’s mouth was dry, and her words came out cracked with emotion. “I’m sorry, I never meant the…”

  “Humiliate us? Get Enoch into a brawl with a local clan? What ye think Lady Campbell will do when she hears o’ this? Ye think she’s gonna want travelers on her land when she fin’s out what trouble ye stirred up? We need the work, Rosie, ‘fore winter comes.”

  Each reminder of Rosalie’s mistakes was like a lashing to her heart. She tried her best to keep her eyes dry, but they were burning and pressure built at her temples.

  “An’ what abou’ Anna?” Magda growled, “Draggin’ her in tae this. The poor gal’s a mess. How selfish can ye be?”

  “I didn’ ask her to follow me.”

  The words came out before Rosalie could stop them. She squeezed her eyes shut and flinched; ready to be smacked. When she peeked through one half-open lid, the disappointment on Magda’s face was more than she could bear. The worst part is Rosalie didn’t think Magda even knew about her abandoning Anna all day. She was disgusted with herself.

  Alexander was silent, pensive until then. “Look, Rosalie,” he groaned as he lowered his aching body into the chair, “It’s like I tol’ ye the other day, a decision must be made. If I had the power to change things withou’ everythin’ fallin’ apart, I would. Yer a bright, hard worker, an’ I think ye’d make someone an excellent wife but…” The word dragged Rosalie’s heart down like a brick into her stomach. He paused, stroking his beard while he thought. Alexander surprised both women when he laughed, “Ye surprised me here. I had meh doubts abou’ ye an’ Enoch. Prolly wouldn’ have seen ye wed, I thought it would buy us all time the figure this ou’ though.” His smile faded.

  “Please don’ make her go.” Magda’s eyes were wet, “No’ yet.”

  The old man pulled out and packed his pipe. His brows furrowed, “We cannae wait ‘til winter.”

  Magda raised her hands to the heavens. Alexander leaned forward, gesturing to Rosalie with his pipe, “But yer goin’ to have the leave, chil’. If ye stay here, however different an’ outtae place ye’ve felt, its only goin’ tae get worse now tha’ ye’ve given then a reason to hate ye.” Magda collapsed into herself before bolting for the door, too proud to let anyone see her grieve. “If ye’ve done this once, Rosalie, it’s only a matter o’ time ‘fore ye do it ‘gain. Even if ye stayed a maid, yer heart ‘ill wander.”

  Rosalie had bitten her lip so hard; she could taste the blood bubbling in her mouth. Despite her efforts, the tears fell. “I’m scared.”

  Alexander moved to the seat closest to her and laid a sympathetic hand on her knee. “I know, chil’.”

  “Cannae ye jus’ make an’ exception?”

  “If I do it here fer ye, e’ery one will want one. ‘Sides, I know people. They’re gonna use this as a reason tae resent ye. No—as hard as it’ll be at first, ye’ll have a chance at happiness if ye move on.”

  “What about Magda?” Rosalie spoke to her hands.

  “Don’ worry abou’ Magda. Those ‘re my troubles.” Alexander took a long draw of his pipe, then stood. “Ye have until winter when we move on. I suggest ye focus on yer future an’ not beat yersel too hard o’er the past. I’ll deal with my nephew.”

  Alexnder turned to leave. His hand was on the door when Rosalie’s voice stopped him. “Thank ye.” The words trembled.

  He nodded and opened the door. Magda waited there with arms crossed. The two elders nodded to each other before Magda went inside. Rosalie gripped her hands together tight enough to blanch her knuckles white. She could sense Magda standing over her and avoided looking as long as she could. When she did, her heart broke at the sorrow and exhaustion on the woman’s face. Rosalie stood, and Magda drew her into her, squeezing her tight as if it was the last time they would see each other.

  “Ye stupid, selfish, stubborn, chil’,” she finally said when their sobs subsided enough to speak.

  That night, Rosalie slept in Magda’s bed as if she was a little girl again. She was grateful her mother didn’t send her out to face the gossip, judgment, and Enoch, even if it meant enduring rant after rant, followed by more tears. She felt as if she was dying. A numb, hollow feeling replaced the shock. The next morning, Magda insisted Rosalie let her and Anna handle the client herself, and forbade her from leaving the caravan until collected for the feast. Unlike any other time, Rosalie complied without argument.

  Throughout the day, Rosalie hardly stirred from the small bed. The woman’s mind explored the possibilities before her. It was hard not to imagine a destitute and lonely future. After the previous night, she doubted Declan would even talk to her. All of it was for nothing.

  When it came time for the feast, Rosalie was surprised it was Anna who came to collect her. Her eyes flew open in surprise as they met the sad, dark brown orbs of her friend.

  “I’m sorry,” Anna choked, “I never meant to—.”

  Rosalie hugged her, not wanting to waste any of the precious moments they had left fighting. “I’m sorry too. I shoulda never put ye in tha’ position. I dinnae ken what I was thinkin’.”

  As she said it, she remembered how it felt being swept up in Declan’s presence and knew it was a lie. She knew precisely why she’d acted out the way she did. With all that passed, her mind cleared and sobered. With distance, it was easy to call it foolish, and even resent Declan for intoxicating her. Still, she wondered if he would wait for her tonight, and the thought made her sick and confused.

  Most of the travelers were already at Kilchurn. Alexander and the few others rode on ahead. Anna and Rosalie rode at a slow trot, keeping parallel and placing distance between them and the others.

  “I talked tae Declan today.” It was rushed and fevered. Rosalie gripped the reins tight, too afraid to ask what happened. “He’s a mess.” Anna looked over and saw the white pallor of her friend. “Well, at least I think he was. He weren’t calm like I see him. He wants tae talk to ye.”

  Rosalie said nothing. Her chest tightened. What could she say?

  “I feel terrible, Rosie. I shouldhae ne’re followed ye. When Enoch—”

  Rosalie interrupted her. “Stop.” She closed her eyes to gather strength. The last thing she wished to do was talk any more about what happened.

  “I wanna help, Rosie.”

  Rosie’s mout
h fell open. She looked at Anna as if she were mad.

  “With what, Anna?” Her tone was grave, edging on angry, “Tell me what it is ye think ye can do fer me? ‘Cause I needed yer help yesterday, an’—” Rosalie shut her mouth. Anna brought her arm up to her face to muffle the sobs. Great, Rosalie thought, I managed tae make things worse. A heavy sigh rattled through her. She was exhausted and emptied of everything except fear and sorrow.

  “Anna, I cannae risk getting’ ye in trouble, an’ we both know ye cannae lie.” Ain’t that the truth.

  “That’s the beauty o’ it.” Anna’s eyes were frantic. She was eager to redeem herself before it was too late. It killed her to think they might say goodbye with Rosalie remembering her in this light. “Please, jus’ hear me out, Rosie. I’m the last person she’d ‘spect o’ helpin’ ye with somethin’ like this, especially now.”