Her Highland Defender (Scottish Highlander Romance)

by Barbara Bard

  Gavina squinted. “Saw who?”

  Eamon smiled. “Father,” he said. “I saw father standing in a field.”

  Gavina cocked her head, curious to know more.

  “I was in heaven,” Eamon said. “I heard a young boy singing. When I approached him—father was there. He told me it was nae me time. He said I had so much tae dae afore I went tae heaven. He said when the day came, and I was an old man—I would see him and mother again. He said mother was there. He said she was waiting fer me…”

  Tears welled up in Gavina’s eyes. She could hear the sincerity. She could sense that Eamon was telling nothing shy of the truth. “Ye saw mother?” she asked.

  Eamon shook his head. “Naw. But father said she was there. And I could feel it. I could feel her presence, Gavina. Mother watches down on us.” His smile grew bigger. “She watches down on us every day. She watches down on us noo.”

  Gavina began to weep, but with a happy expression and tears that were nothing shy of joyful. In that moment, she could also feel the presence of her sister, of Eamon’s mother, Isla, looking down on them from the heavens.”

  “We shall be successful, Gavina,” Eamon said. “I just ken that we will.”

  “With what, nephew?”

  “With all of it. Our lives. Seeking out the hands of God. We shall be victorious.” He gingerly touched at his wound. “This means nae a thing. Just a scar that will heal once all is said and done.”

  Gavina sighed. “We lost Simon. He has fled from the area.”

  “It does nae matter,” Eamon said. “We shall catch up with him. We will bring him tae justice. We will end this madness once and fer all. I hae naw question.”

  Gavina rested her hand against Eamon’s chest. “Rest noo. Ye maist regain yer strength.”

  Eamon nodded, slowly closing his eyes as he laid his head fully back. As he slept, Gavina looked upon her nephew fondly, inspired by his words and ready to finish what they had started. She believed Eamon. She believed his words to be true. She believed that all the madness and the tyranny of the Hands of God would soon come to an end.

  Chapter 30

  Simon stood at the edge of the cliff looking down into the valley. His men were a short distance away, gathered around a fire and sharpening their weapons as they waited for Simon to give them their orders.

  The sun was high in the sky, beating down on Simon as he looked down unblinkingly into the valley. He breathed deep; his mind still haunted by the words that Eamon had spoken to him before he had become wounded: Yer family is alive.

  Simon shook his head. He knew it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. His wife and child had been murdered. Their deaths had sent him down the road he was currently on, living the life that he was leading, the endless campaign of bloodshed done at the behest of God. Their deaths were the catalyst for all that had happened. He was on a mission for God, one that would rectify the deaths of his family and bring order to a land he knew was filled with chaos.

  But what if it is true? he thought. What if they are alive? What does that mean? How does that change things?

  Simon felt his heartbeat picking up, his chest tight as he reached his hand up to his sternum and pressed down. He hadn’t experienced true emotion in a long time, at least not emotion that wasn’t defined by anger or violence. He had not felt love in quite a while, that fire having diminished the moment that his wife and child were murdered. When they died—he died. But now, hearing that there was a chance that they were alive, old feelings were resurfacing and making him feel in a way that he hadn’t for quite some time.

  Simon didn’t want to believe that Eamon’s words were true—but he spoke it with such sincerity. There were no hints of a lie in the young man’s tone. But he could have been, Simon thought. He could have said it just to force me to feel the way I do now, to lower my guard, to make me quit the campaign. No, it cannot be true. He must have been lying. He must have…

  But there were things in the past surrounding the death of his family that now did not make sense upon hearing Eamon speak of the fact that they were still alive. The Lord that Simon served seemed to sound contradictory upon telling him his wife and child had burned—he never saw a body. There were no traces of them left behind, and Simon was never allowed to see the village where they had burned and felt that he had now been deliberately put in the dark the entire time.

  Did he lie? Simon thought. Is it true? Are my wife and child still among the living?

  If it were true, Simon knew that it changed everything. But he wasn’t certain. He wanted to be, but there was enough skepticism welling up inside of him that he was still reticent to accept the words as truth. But if it were a possibility, if his family was still truly alive—he needed to seek out and see if it were true. He needed to question Eamon. He needed to learn who possessed the knowledge of this so-called truth and find out once and for all if it was real.

  Yes, Simon thought. I need to find Eamon. I need to see what he knows…

  Set on his ways, Simon turned around and faced his men. He knew he would change the plan, that simply wiping out the Bairds would not suffice if he was going to learn the truth. He approached his men, all of them looking up in anticipation as he said: “There is a change of plan…”

  ***

  Agatha was still wrought with affliction from her nightmare, her vision, the night prior. She was sitting on the steps of Rose’s cottage, biting her thumbnail and finding that her mind was no less at ease today than it was when she first had her vision.

  She closed her eyes, rubbing her neck and feeling the fatigue setting in from the copious amounts of overthinking. She still worried about Eamon’s fate, wondering when he would return and what happened with their plight against the Hands of God.

  Her mind then drifted, words that she had heard many times in her youth floating back into her mind: Be strong. Always.

  Agatha smiled. It was the words of her mother, words that she had spoken to her on more than one occasion.

  When Agatha was a child her mother had always said those three words to her during times of strife. One of the most vivid recollections that Agatha had of hearing those words was when she was a teenager, when a Sassenach Lord publicly offended her and tainted her name after turning down his advances. She couldn’t find work as a result. Names were shouted at her in the streets. It forced her to hide for several days, her reputation feeling like it was all but lost.

  “Daughter,” her mother said, coming up to her bedside and sitting beside Agatha as she slept on her side. “This will pass. All things do.”

  Through tears, Agatha replied: “Bad things keep happening. I do not welcome it.”

  “I know,” her mother said, running her fingers through Agatha’s hair. “But this will always be the case in life.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “No. It is not. But do you know why they happen?”

  Agatha waited for the rest.

  “Because,” he mother said, “it is how you respond that makes you more capable of coping with the bad things. Every time you fall—you get up. Every time you get up—you get up faster than you did the time before.” She kissed her daughter on her cheek. “You have to be strong, Agatha,” she said. “Be strong. Always.”

  Agatha beamed at the memory, at seeing her mother’s face, which looked just like her own, and knowing that the words were just as true today as they were when she first heard them. She could be worried about Eamon, worried about all that was happening—but she could not dwell. She needed to act. She needed to be strong, for her as well as Eamon.

  With a newfound sense of optimism, Agatha turned and walked back inside the house, Rose standing in the kitchen and looking at her curiously.

  “Are ye alright?” Rose asked.

  Agatha nodded. “I am okay.”

  “Ye look better. Ye look…confidant.”

  Agatha smiled. “I am. I still worry about Eamon, but I feel all will be okay.”

  Rose looked awa
y, a glimmer in her eye that Agatha couldn’t help but note. She smiled, Agatha reaching out and grabbing Rose by the hand as she asked: “What is it? Something seems to bring you joy.”

  Rose nodded. “I had a dream last night.”

  “About what?”

  “Aboot me mother. I dreamed I was in a field. I could hear her voice. She told me that she was watching over us, that Eamon was well and that all would be okay.”

  The words brought immense comfort to Agatha. She pulled Rose in and embraced her, the two of them feeling like they had grown closer to one another than they already had. They broke the embrace, the two of them walking side-by-side as they took a stroll through the village.

  “I feel that all of this,” Rose said, “will come tae an end soon. All the fighting. All of the struggle.”

  Agatha nodded. “Aye. I sense this as well.”

  “Hopefully,” Rose said with a smirk, “a wedding will be in store in the near future.”

  The two women giggled, both of them exchanging quips about Eamon and the future and the possibility of children. As they continued their conversation, they began to make out a rumble in the distance at the head of the village. They turned their heads, both of them making out the outlines of riders in the distance. Their hearts skipped a beat, both of them knowing without a doubt that it was the return of Gavina and Eamon.

  Agatha ran to the riders, her eyes wide as she looked at the riders and tried to make out Eamon. Gavina came into view in the lead, waving at Agatha as the riders came to a stop at the head of the village.

  “Where is Eamon?” Agatha asked.

  Before anyone could answer—she made him out in the rear of the group, slumped over his horse with a pale expression on his face. He smiled wearily, Agatha feeling her heart race once she saw his depleted expression.

  “Eamon!” Agatha cried out.

  She rushed to his horse, Eamon slipping off his saddle and wincing as the two embraced. She kissed him, holding his head in her hands as she began to weep. “You’re alright!” she said. “Thank God in heaven!”

  Eamon nodded, pulling his love in close. “Aye. I am alright.”

  Agatha ran her hands delicately over his body. “What happened to you? Are you ill? Are you hurt?”

  Eamon sighed. “We found Simon. Him and I got into an altercation. He wounded me. Unfortunately, he got away.”

  Agatha put her hand to her mouth. “My God,” she whimpered. “He hurt you?”

  “He cut me well. But the wound shall heal. I just need a little more rest is all.”

  Agatha hugged Eamon once more. “I am so glad you are okay, my love. I feared for you so. I was worried the worst had happened.”

  Eamon shook his head. “I am going tae be fine, me love. I am here noo. Everything is okay.”

  Connor, approaching the riders with his men, strolled up to Eamon. “I just overheard,” he said. “Simon got away?”

  Eamon sighed. Nodded. “The bastard is a ghost. I dinnae how he keeps evading us so.”

  “Dae ye ken which direction he headed in?”

  Eamon shook his head. “I dinnae. We lost him and his men…but I informed him about the knowledge ye gave me, the story of his wife and child. It was what sparked the fight.”

  Connor stroked his beard, squinting and thinking. “This man is slippery. We maist formulate a new plan.”

  Gavina dismounted her saddle. “Eamon maist rest,” she said. “We still hae a little time.”

  “But nae much,” Eamon said. “Simon and his men approach with each second that passes. We maist move quickly.”

  Gavina placed a hand on her nephew’s shoulder. “Again—rest fer awhile. I will coordinate with Connor.” She looked to Agatha. “Take care of me nephew. He needs tae replenish his fluids. Make sure he rests.”

  Agatha hooked her arm around Eamon’s waist. “I will,” she said. “I will make sure of it.”

  Gavina smiled as Agatha escorted Eamon to Rose’s cottage. She felt comforted at the fact that Eamon was in such good and capable hands. She then looked to Connor, the two of them walking into the heart of the village.

  “Simon is mad,” Gavina said.

  Connor laughed. “We ken that already.”

  Gavina shook her head. “We thought we had him. He burned a whole field right in front of us.” She sighed. “Me God, I cannae believe he escaped us.”

  “What’s done is done,” Connor said. “That is in the past. We maist focus on the present. We maist figure oot what our next course of action is.”

  “The next course of action is simple—find him and kill him.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Ye sound pessimistic.”

  “I am just venting…”

  “Aye. But chances are he is coming tae the village as we speak.”

  “Maist likely,” Gavina said, glancing around the fields in front of the village, a thought popping into her brain and causing her to squint.

  “What are ye thinking of?” Connor asked, seeing the glint in her eye.

  Gavina laughed, a plan brewing in her mind. “I think,” she said, “that I hae an elegant solution tae our problem.”

  Chapter 31

  “This is madness,” Connor said, bracing the table inside a tavern as he looked Gavina square in her eye. “Ye want tae burn the fields?”

  Gavina nodded. “Aye. We lure Simon in. We allow him tae come tae us. We force him and his men tae come in the front way. Once they dae—we burn them alive.”

  Connor laughed, shaking his head as he began pacing. “This is insanity.”

  “Desperate times,” Gavina said with a shrug, “desperate measures.”

  “Ye will risk the safety of all those in the village.”

  “Nae if we dae it properly. If we arrange this in a way where we force Simon and his men tae approach from the front, we can contain the fire.”

  “Create a choke point,” Connor said, tracking Gavina’s plan.

  Gavina nodded. “Aye. Correct.”

  Connor huffed, crossing his arms and mulling over Gavina’s plan of attack. “Perhaps ye may be right,” he said. “It is nae like Simon has left us with any other choice.”

  “Me thoughts exactly,” Gavina said, standing and moving toward the counter where the liquor was kept. They were the only two people in the tavern, and night was slowly creeping up on them.

  “Whatever we decide,” Connor said, “we maist move fast. I hae naw doubt that the Hands of God are imminent.”

  “Simon’s numbers are depleted though. I am sure he recruits mair men. After our last encounters with him, I am positive that he is going tae great lengths tae ensure that he does nae underestimate us.”

  Connor came up alongside Gavina as she poured him a drink, pushing the glass toward him and raising her own in a toast. They clicked their glasses together, then slowly sipped the copper-colored liquid.

  “We should send out a scout,” Connor said. “See if they can make out the location of the Hands of God. We should nae be sitting here and guessing when he will arrive. We maist find out fer sure.”

  Gavina sighed. She closed her eyes and began rubbing the back of her neck. “I hae never afore in me life had tae deal with a man of Simon’s caliber. It is mair than exhausting.”

  Connor huffed. “Aye. Same. It makes the other battles I hae fought in pale in comparison.”

  “It worries me so. I fear that despite our intentions, we will still lose men in this fight.”

  “Because we will. Because that is war. We maist accept that even one of us might perish in this fight.”

  Gavina looked at Connor, the two of them matching each other’s gazes, comforted by having a partner-in-arms. “This will secure our future,” she said. “Once Simon has been dealt with, I feel that all will start tae balance itself out.”

  “Then that is the intention we maist hold,” Connor said. “We maist focus on that and nae the collateral damage that will result. We maist be strong, fer ourselves and fer ou
r people.” He breathed, raising his glass once again in a toast. “We burn the fields.”

  Gavina nodded, clinking her glass against Connor’s. “We burn the fields,” she repeated as the two of them downed the rest of the liquor and set about finalizing their plans.

  ***

  Eamon sat up in his bed. The color had returned to his face, and his body felt much less weary than it did upon arrival.

  “How do you feel, my love?” Agatha said, entering the room with a bowl of stew and a mug filled with water.

  “Much better,” Eamon said, taking the food from Agatha. “I feel me senses starting tae recoup.”