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

by Kenna Kendrick

  The next day, they found their clothes neatly folded near the door. The sun was high in the sky. A sense of urgency overcame Declan, wanting more than anything to speak with his Rosalie and make sure no harm had come to her.

  “Will ye settle down? We ain’t gettin’ there any faster. The horses are tired as it is.”

  “I’m impatient,” Declan grumbled.

  “Yer tellin’ me,” Angus laughed. “If tha’ woman is who ye think she is, she’ll be there. An’ tell me, ‘re ye goin’ tae jus’ walk in an’ ask tae take her back, or ye got a plan?”

  Declan thought of a thousand plans, but all of them were faulty and resting on chance. “We’ll have tae see what it’s like in the light.”

  When they came to the edge of the forest, they dismounted and carried on with caution. The grounds were understaffed. Declan watched as people moved between the buildings and spotted how many worked in the fields.

  “Yer goin’ tae wait here,” Declan said. “If anythin’ goes wrong, leave without me.”

  “Ye ken that’s no’ happenin’,” Angus grunted. “Yer goin’ tae get yerself killed. Wha’ if we jus’ approach ‘em with some story?”

  “It’s too risky. I think if I come out o’er there,” Declan pointed to where the forest wrapped around a side closest to their stables, “I can get into the keep.”

  “An’ then what? Try e’ery door ‘til ye fin’ her.”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  Declan kept within the forest’s concealment until he was on the backside of the keep. He was grateful to find there was no one around back. A small garden stretched out between him and the stone walls. He studied the windows above, hoping to find someone. Up high, a young blonde girl sat in the window, staring out.

  While Declan was weighing whether to bolt across, risking her discovering him, their eyes met. She looked startled and sat up, speaking to someone over her shoulder. Declan’s blood ran cold. He ducked behind one of the trees, cursing himself for being careless. When he peeked to see if they were still staring, his heart exploded with excitement.

  Rosalie stood, searching for what Gale pointed out. Declan stepped from behind the tree. At first, she just stared at him, as if in shock. As she accepted what she was looking at, her face broke open with a smile, and her eyes shined with tears. He gave a small wave, and laughter broke from his lips.

  Declan waited there, watching Rosalie turn on the other girl. He would have killed to hear what she was saying. Her face was intense, and he felt pride seeing the strength and determination in the woman’s eyes and features. Whatever she said, he could see the other girl was surprised and in silent shock.

  Rosalie disappeared from the window. The blonde woman stared down at Declan. If she were an enemy, she was at least one not running to alert anyone. The young chief wrung his hands and felt anxiety run up the back of his neck. What if she wanted to be here? What if this was not a kidnapping, and he somehow missed something about Rosalie? He waited and watched.

  Rosalie climbed through a low window. He watched as she looked around. In the next moments, her skirts lifted above her ankles, and she was bounding toward him. She looked more beautiful at that moment than he had ever seen her. Her eyes sparkled for him. Her hair flew behind her in a wild, curly mane, flowing beneath a crown of neat, intricate braids.

  Declan held out his arms, bracing himself. Rosalie barreled into him and covered his face with kisses. He lifted her into the air, laughing in pure ecstasy at the welcome. When she kissed him until they could hardly breathe, she let out a sigh of content and ran her soft hand around his cheek.

  “I thought I’d never see ye again,” she said.

  He closed his eyes, relishing her touch. “I couldn’t bear no’ kenning ye were safe, lassie.”

  Rosalie kissed him again. He let her down slowly and held her close to him for a moment. Her hand laid over his fast-beating heart.

  “The girl,” he said, looking back over at the window where the woman watched.

  Rosalie let out a small growl that made Declan chuckle. “Gale’s as trapped ‘ere as I am. She’s jus’ goin’ tae ask me fer things and make empty threats.”

  Declan pushed her to arms’ length. His heart sank at her words—at her insinuation of staying there. “I’ve come tae take ye home.”

  Rosalie pursed her lips. The fair skin between her brow wrinkled, and she looked down. “I cannae leave. Not yet.”

  “I dinnae understand,” Declan said.

  Rosalie pulled away from him, his hand still holding tight onto hers. “They say they’re me family.” He could see the tears and confusion gathering in her eyes. “I cannae go until I know the truth. An’ ‘sides—there’s nothin’ left fer me back home ‘cept tae say goodbye. If,” her voice cracked, “if they’re still there.”

  He lifted her chin. “They’re still there an’ waitin’ fer me tae bring ye back.”

  Rosalie’s eyes darted up to him, and he could see how happy he’d made her. She gave him a tight squeeze. She looked back over at the woman in the window. Gale was watching them like a hawk, and twirled the air with her finger, telling her to hurry.

  “Will ye wait fer me then? Please,” Rosalie begged. “If they’re my real family, I have tae know. I have wondered about this ma whole life, an’ if there is any chance…”

  Declan silenced her with the soft touch of his fingers. “If it means tha’ much to ye, I’ll wait.” He ran his fingers through the ends of her hair. “I’ve missed ye more than I thought possible.”

  “And I, you.”

  “Are ye safe?”

  Rosalie’s mouth twisted. “Fer the time bein’. The Lady here, she’s a bit—” Rosalie could not find a more delicate way to put it, “mad.”

  It strained his heart to hear that she could be in danger. He pulled her close to him again and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

  “I don’t like leavin’ ye here. They snatched ye in the night, an’ nothin’ about that seems right—family or not.”

  “I feel the same way, but I’m close. I’m so close I can feel it. Declan,” he could sense the change in her voice and waited, pulling her away enough to look at her, “Alexander is makin’ me leave. When I return—” Her words trailed off, and he could see her lip trembling as she fought back the tears.

  It was news to him. When they talked, no one mentioned anything about her being removed from the Roma community. He already knew he wanted her.

  “Don’ worry abou’ that now. Let’s work on gettin’ ye out o’ here first.” Declan didn’t want to tell her that he never wanted her out of his sights again. He didn’t want to push her and risk scaring her away from him. The fact that they knew each other for such a short time made it difficult to balance the powerful feelings in his heart with cold, prudent logic. Declan could sense her panic.

  “If I stay here, family or not, I’ll be cared for.”

  “By a madwoman. Ye said so yerself.”

  “If I go back, I’ll be destitute.”

  “No, ye willnae.”

  “Ye cannot know that.”

  “I can,” he said. “I’ll never le’ anythin’ happen tae ye. As long as I ken ye, ye’ll be cared for.” Relief washed over Rosalie, but Declan could still see she didn’t completely believe him. He wished she could see the inside of his heart and know these weren’t just lines to woo her. Even if she rejected him romantically, he still felt responsible for her and her current situation.

  “For now, I must stay and see this through.”

  Declan wished she would come away with him. He tried to imagine what it must be like for her. As much as it pained him, he knew he couldn’t force her. She might resent him. An unruly red curl poked from the edges of her braid. He touched the soft stray, watching it spring under his touch.

  “If this is wha’ ye need, I’ll be nearby. Each nigh’, when the moon is highest, I’ll wait fer ye. If ye come into trouble or need me help, jus’ place a candle in yer window.”


  Rosalie nodded and turned over her shoulder. Declan followed her gaze. The blonde woman still sat in the window, staring at them and gesturing for Rosalie to hurry.

  The young maiden groaned. “I should go.”

  She looked up at Declan. He could see the trust in her big green eyes, the desire, and the fear. It made him love her all the more to see how brave she was, risking danger for the pursuit of truth. He ran his finger over her full lips.

  Rosalie’s knees quivered, her eyes closing at his touch. When she opened her eyes, the way she looked up at him made Declan feel like a demigod. There was vulnerability and trust and longing looking back at him. His fingers glided over her neck and the small of her back, feeling her slender frame beneath his hands.

  Their lips locked, pressing into each other, drawing into one another, and as he broke away, she let out a whimper of longing. He couldn’t help himself, the hunger too strong to let her part now. He kissed her in short bursts, guiding her back until she braced her hands upon the tree behind her. He pressed his thigh between her legs.

  “Declan,” Rosalie begged, breathless. She pressed her hands against his chest, and he could feel her tremble. Declan found pleasure in seeing her fight over control of herself; her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to catch her breath. “I have tae go.”

  Declan did not say anything. He wanted to beg her to stay, but he held his tongue, knowing she had made up her mind. Rosalie slipped from between him and the tree. Declan grabbed her hand and held it as long as he could. She looked back over at him, her hair whirling about, and it made his heart stall.

  “Please keep safe,” he whispered to himself as he watched her bound back into the keep. Declan stayed there as long as he dared. He watched the blonde girl disappear from the window and strained, prepared to chase after Rosalie if he heard a scream. As soon as he let her go, he filled with regret. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The night was dark and overcast. Flora left Rosalie alone for the night. She sat at the window, staring out, wondering if Declan waited in the darkness for her. The flicker of a torch caught her attention. Once more, Edward walked across the grounds, entering into the forest. What is he doing? She knew the man was not hunting. Not this late in the evening.

  The castle was quiet, its occupants having turned in for the night. Rosalie found the warmest clothes she could find. It was not as chilly as her home in the north, but the warm winds were fading. Dressing brought on a wave of homesickness as she longed for the traveling cloak that carried her all over Scotland with Magda and Anna.

  No matter what, there was one thing Rosalie knew for sure—the story Flora’s mother told was not completely true, and even if it was, it was not Magda who kidnapped this child. She needed closure to free her from this place. A chill ran down Rosalie’s arms as she thought about the sudden outbursts of anger.

  As Rosalie tiptoed down the steps, careful in the darkness not to miss one of the narrow edges, she thought of her life back home. Guilt and regret upset her stomach. Even here, with a noble family, she would find herself slave to the same expectations. Now, even if she returned, she would not have the option to swallow her pride and fears, grit her teeth, and find joy in her life where she could. No, she’d damned herself, and the only hoped she had now was to toughen up to the idea of being a labor-hardy spinster or find someone to marry.

  Her mind flitted to Declan as she walked. Somewhere out there, he waited to rescue her. Despite the odds, he’d traveled across Scotland in pursuit of her. He promised her security, and she wished to believe him. A part of her warned her it was too good to be true. Contingency plans flashed in her mind—each one crushed beneath a memory of his touch and laughter and kindness. The thought of him brought strength into each step. Somewhere, he waited for her, and that drove her, giving her wings and a focused determination to find out what Edward knew.

  The night was chilly but not uncomfortable. The light breeze tickled the hairs on her neck. She followed the path she watched Edward take across the landscaped green. The woods were dark, and a gust of wind added to the prickling sensation running down her neck. A feeling came over her that she was not supposed to be there. She knew she was supposed to be in the castle, but this was more. It was though this place was forbidden to her… sure to get her in trouble if she continued.

  The desire to learn more about her past and the truth of the strange family was more than any fear she had of what may happen. As angry as Lady Catherine seemed, she did not feel as threatened as in the moments alone with Enoch. She doubted the woman would harm her any more than a slap or a sharp tongue-lashing—all worth bearing if it meant knowing the truth.

  It was easy to find Edward. A thin worn trail marked the place where the man must have walked countless times over the years. Any doubts she had faded away when she spotted the soft glow of his torch in the darkness, flickering between the trees. She approached as quiet as she could, keeping herself concealed in the shadows just beyond the light.

  The old man sat on what seemed to be an old well, boarded up, and toppled with heavy stones. His head hung low. On the ground was a hand made cross protruding from what Rosalie could only guess was a grave. For a moment, Rosalie wanted to turn and run. This was an intimate place, a place she could feel all through her being was private and guarded, not meant for her eyes.

  Any chance of slipping away vanished from her control when the snap of a brittle stick cracked beneath her foot. Edward looked up at her. It was clear he was crying.

  “Whose there? Gale?”

  As Rosalie took a deep breath and stepped into the light, pulling down her hood, a look of shock passed over Edward’s pale, tear-stained face. There was no anger there, just sadness. He looked back down at the grave.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I know.”

  Rosalie’s voice was strong, but her entire body trembled. Whatever words she rehearsed as she gathered the courage to follow him were lost. She never expected to find this of all things. Even though in her heart, she knew what this meant, she needed to hear it from him. Yet, breaching the subject was something that tied her tongue.

  Edward did not try to hide his tears. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Rosalie approached him slowly. She hesitated, waiting for him to object. When he remained silent, she eased herself down onto the stone wall next to him.

  “I don’t belong here, do I?” she finally asked.

  He looked at her, his eyes swimming with sorrow. “No.” They both looked at the grave. “It broke her. She loved Bridget more than anything in this world.”

  Rosalie nodded, “It wasnae travelers or gypsies, then.”

  Edward’s eyes rolled up to the sky as if asking for his higher power to save him. “No, that was a story made up out o’ fear and shame.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

  “W-what happened?” Rosalie dared to ask, having come too far to turn back. Immediately, she regretted her words, feeling her heart almost breaking for the man. Edward’s shoulders heaved as heavy sobs racked his body. Rosalie stood as if to leave, feeling as if this was a sacred place she should not be and not knowing what to do. He grabbed his hand.

  “No, please,” Edward begged, “I have no one to talk to. This has grown out o’ control.” He grimaced. “I’m sick o’ the lies.”

  Rosalie’s anger softened by the sympathy she had for the man. There was much she wished to ask, but she didn’t want to push him. She waited for him to speak, hoping he would tell her everything and free her from the place.

  “Bridget was a curious girl.” His eyes sparkled. “Always up to mischief. She and Flora were playing, and she took off. Euna found her as she was balancing on the well.” He patted the stones beneath them. “She lost her balance and,” his words choked with sobs.

  It took him a moment to collect himself, and Rosalie waited in silence. She knew it wasn’t Magda. The story Flora’s mo
ther told her, Euna told her, didn’t sound like any travelers she knew. It still wasn’t a comfort. Lady Catherine was truly mad, and that put her in more danger than she realized.

  “Euna told Lady Catherine she was kidnapped. We sent everyone after this,” anger flashed across his features, “Specter. Later that night, we discovered the truth once Flora was put to questioning. Catherine, though, she could not handle it.” He rubbed his hands together, “She could not accept our,” his voice shook, and he swallowed, “our Bridget was…” he cried again. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it feels like an injustice to her. We couldn’t even have a proper burial o’ her. Catherine refused to accept the death, and when pushed, she—” he cut off and became flustered, “I could not bear the thought o’ losing her too. Not after Bridget. The doctor said it might be good for her to hold on to the fancy. He assured me it would pass once she accepted the truth and was ready to grieve.”