Siren of the Highlands: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Cherrythorn)

by Kenna Kendrick

“I think we will leave taenight, Donovan. Ye may begin preparations.”

  Donovan nodded and headed towards the village to speak to Rose before starting what needed to be done.

  “Come, brother. I think it is time we eat. We have been at it for hours now.” Sean stalled the other men from fighting, and with wet brows, they gratefully walked back towards their homes for refreshment.

  Eamon sheathed his sword. “Brother, I am glad tae return tae ye. Although I’d hoped it would have been under better circumstances.” Sean nodded, but he did not reply, and they walked in silence back to the cabin and were met with a distraught Rose. She rushed from inside and wrapped her arms around Sean.

  “Sean! Donovan tells me he must prepare the men tae leave taenight! I didnae realize it would have tae be so soon. Is there time enough tae get all ye need?” She looked up at him, her eyes moist with tears, and Eamon stepped back slightly and looked down, reluctant to intrude upon so intimate a moment.

  Besides, he could not look at it any longer without feeling that familiar pang of desire. A woman had never looked at him so, with both yearning and true love in her eyes. There had been no one to care anything for him these past years, save his men, and while he had been with many a woman, nothing had come close to what he saw in Rose’s expression. It irked him the way it opened up his heart to yearn for something he knew could never happen. He was a broken man and had done many horrible things. There was no chance for love now.

  Sean gripped Rose by the shoulders. “We must, my dear. Does it nae comfort ye that we go for aid?”

  Rose continued to cling to him, but she nodded in understanding. “I know. It is wise, Sean. They are good people. I am sorry. It is the baby that makes my nerves feel frayed. I dinnae know what I would do without ye if ye were tae fall.”

  Sean locked eyes with his wife, and Eamon was touched by the strength and confidence in his brother’s voice. “Ye will be strong and take care of our little one. That is what ye would do, Rose. Now, come, my love. There is nae time for tears and sadness on my behalf. We must prepare and think brightly of the future. Once this Cutler is out of our lives, our village can be made complete.”

  Rose nodded and smiled once Sean wiped a tear from her cheek. “I shall assist, Sean, and make sure all the weapons ye need are taken with ye. But we will keep some here tae defend against any extra attack.”

  Sean chuckled. “That is why I love ye, Rose. Ye are a fighter. I only wish ye could join me in this battle.”

  Rose sighed and glanced at Eamon. “Aye, I wish that too. Sean, Eamon, there is food inside the cabin. Take yer fill. Ye will need it. I will go tae speak with Donovan.”

  Eamon nodded sharply. His new sister’s leadership was evident. While she was concerned for her husband and for her unborn child, there was a strength there that Eamon could see in the set of her jaw and the flash of her eyes. He respected that. Sean took Eamon by the shoulder and led him indoors.

  A few hours later, Eamon left the cabin to go make himself useful in preparations. He inspected swords for damage, counted the supply of arrows, and filled leather water pouches. He even counted those who would accompany them, and twelve made up that number, a mixture of men and women. Some stayed behind to watch over the young families.

  He would have griped at the inclusion of women, but in this group, he knew what sort of reaction he would receive if he made any complaints. He had never seen a woman fight before, and so he had no idea what to expect. The uncertainty scared him. He pushed it aside and ended up in the stables, brushing and readying his horse. He smoothed the bristles over her chestnut coat and spoke to her in hushed tones.

  He loved his horse, but it was also an excuse to give Sean and Rose more time to have a proper goodbye. He did not want to be the one to prevent his brother from a last moment with his new wife if that was what it would be. He whispered, “Aine, we will be off tae another battle. This time it’s a right bastard of a man. I hope we can crush him under yer hooves, lass.” He laughed and laid a soft kiss on her nose.

  “Ye will keep us safe, will ye nae, Aine?” He put the brush away in his bag and looked up to see Sean watching him, one dark eyebrow raised.

  “Brother, I see ye have a heart.” Eamon froze for a moment, embarrassed to have been caught in such a sentimental moment.

  He cleared his throat. “Aye, I didnae leave it behind, although I tried.”

  No one spoke for a moment before Sean said, “Come, the men are ready tae leave. Bring yer horse out.”

  Eamon nodded and began to saddle Aine, the sound of worn leather stretching gave Eamon a little comfort. Sean paused at the doorway and turned back. “Thank ye, brother. For giving me time with Rose.”

  Then he left, and Eamon smiled to himself. He clucked to Aine conspiratorially, and then in ten minutes, he met the group by the edge of the village. Sean was facing them on his horse. “Scots, I ken I am nae yer true leader, but I ask ye tae come with me now and fight for our freedoms. Lord Cutler comes tae kill us all and wipe clean our names from the face of the Earth. I ken ye have worked hard for yer freedom from our past life. I want that for ye just as much as I want it for myself and my family. Come. Fight one last battle against our hated enemies. ,When we return, we will build our village of peace!”

  The men and women cheered in response to Sean’s rousing speech, and Eamon followed after Sean as he trotted down the hill towards the thickness of the forest. Eamon rode alongside his brother and said, “Yer people follow ye instantly. They have nae qualms about their imminent death.”

  “They are brave souls, but I fear that their resolve may weaken. Many of them have been fighting for this village for a long time. They wanted out of the fighter’s and the robber’s life. They only wanted Peace. We shall see who remains in the end.”

  Eamon felt a sick sense of dread creep over him at Sean’s dark words, but he kept his eyes on the path, gripping the leather reins in his hand. They would meet his men soon, and hopefully, they would give Sean the extra hope he needed. It was not a far road to the MacManus clan, but they had to make it through the dense forest first, and it darkened the air around them even in the light afternoon sun. It created an ominous shroud as their horses cantered downhill. The earlier cheer of the party was subdued by the heaviness of the forest air.

  The trees were lined on either side of the path, and their branches intertwined thickly overhead until the sun was nearly blocked out. All were silent, and Eamon said quietly, “I wonder why ye made yer village so close tae such a place. It gives off a foreboding air. Many wouldnae dare tae walk through it.”

  Sean smiled. “Aye, that was the point, lad. I had hoped tae dissuade my enemies from continuing through. The only problem is we must cross through it if ever we need tae travel. We didnae think of that so much when we built.”

  Eamon laughed, and his short burst of mirth felt odd in such a melancholy place, but it lightened his own heart. He did not want to think of death, his own, or his dear brother’s. He would prefer if he had to die, for he knew he deserved death long ago, but for some reason, something lingered in him that told him his time was not yet done.

  That bolstered his courage for a while, and he clicked Aine into a quicker pace as they finally entered through MacManus clan borders. “Brother, once we arrive, I need tae send out a man tae give word tae my men tae meet us, as well as see if he can find anything of the boy or Cutler’s men.”

  Sean nodded. “Aye.” He called Donovan forward. “Donovan, send out Gareth. He needs tae ride tae the closest tavern tae give word tae Eamon’s men. Tell them we will meet them at first light outside the tavern.”

  Eamon added, “Also, tell him he needs tae ride toward the main road and see if he can spy Cutler’s men or even my spy. If he does so, then tell him we will meet Cutler tomorrow, but ask if there is any news.”

  Donovan nodded and rode back towards another man in the group.

  Sean and Eamon spun back to hear a booming voice. “The Wanderer has come tae
call, I see!” Dougal MacManus, a very large man in both girth and height, opened his arms wide at the sight of Sean, Eamon, and the rest of the men. Their horses were paused at the edge of his village, a stone fortress looming in the background, and Sean dismounted.

  He bowed before the older man and said, “Laird MacManus, I come bearing news, and I’m afraid it is nae good news.”

  Dougal patted Sean on the back and turned him towards the fortress. “When is it ever good in these parts, lad? Bring yer men. We shall feast taenight. Ye will stay with us?”

  “If it is nae too much trouble.” Sean motioned to Eamon, and Eamon alighted quickly, handing Aine’s reins to the man beside him. Eamon walked up beside him, and Sean said, “Laird, this is my brother, Eamon Wilson. He has come tae give us the warning of which we need tae tell ye.”

  Dougal frowned, watching Eamon. He stared level with Eamon for a while. Eamon knew he did not look the part of the upright man, but there was nothing to do about it now. He had tied his hair back in an attempt to seem less roguish, but it apparently had no effect. “Come inside, men. We shall discuss taegether over food and wine.”

  They wandered through the fortress, and Eamon was amazed at the sight. He had not been in an impressive building since he had left his family years before. Fires were crackling in the hearths, and servants were moving about hurriedly, performing quick tasks before moving on to another. Dougal waved a young man over and said, “Boy, make sure The Wanderer’s group is seen to food, drink, the stables, and provide them places tae sleep. There are women in the company. They must be separated.”

  The boy hurried off, and Eamon was satisfied that The Scots would be cared for. He didn’t want to see them starve or freeze to death on the eve of battle. He kept silent as Dougal began speaking of happenings in the area, from cattle thieves to murderers. “My men do the best they can, but it is becoming too much for them, I believe. It seems that the unrest is growing. And nae in any small part tae the flyers I have been seeing nailed up in various parts, calling for a new rebellion against the British.”

  Eamon’s eyes snapped up to Dougal’s face, and he thought of the young boy, knowing now that Cutler was close. They sat in a small room on the far side of the main hall, and food was brought to them. A woman came and filled their wine glasses as well before scampering off wordlessly. “How recently have ye seen these papers, and where did ye see them?” Eamon asked, and Dougal looked taken aback at such an interruption. “Laird MacManus,” Eamon added quickly and stole a glance at Sean.

  Dougal pursed his lips as he watched Eamon thoughtfully. “It has been for a few weeks now, but only in the last day have I seen it as close as a half-day’s journey from here. For some reason, the informant is spreading their news here. Did they nae hear of Culloden? Did they nae see the bloodshed or know what ties we lairds had tae take tae save our clans?” Dougal shook his head, and Eamon almost agreed with him.

  The boy was yet young and had not seen enough of life yet to know that sometimes it was simply cruel or even worse. Hopeless. The British had won Culloden and so had tried to squelch every last bit of Highland life from the Northern lands. There were still tiny rebellions, but to call upon a revolution was a strange and mighty thing indeed, even if it did make a fire burn in Eamon’s heart.

  “That means Cutler is close, Sean,” Eamon whispered to his brother, and Sean nodded.

  Eamon drank his wine while Sean spoke. His fears were growing by the moment, and the thick liquid helped to ease the building tension. “Laird MacManus, I am glad ye too have seen the papers that fill the countryside. It is related tae our reason for coming here. We believe we know who is posting them. We have a warning of someone who comes tae kill.”

  Chapter Four

  Dougal furrowed his thick eyebrows and said, “What is this, Wanderer? What do you mean?”

  “I mean that a Lord Cutler, a nobleman sent by the King, comes to this area tae kill the Scots and me in return for what we have done in the past. The King’s former proxy was killed as well as his nephew, Sir Henry of Shefford, as you know. He comes for revenge, and he will leave nae survivors. We have been told of his coming by my brother and his spy.”

  Dougal sighed, but his face remained lined and furrowed. “He comes for ye, lad? And in so doing, he may pass by our clan along the way?”

  “Aye, laird, and that is one of the reasons why I call upon ye. We plan tae meet him on his journey so that he will nae find the village nor meet with yer clan lands. But we hoped ye might send men with us as reinforcements.”

  Dougal nodded, his lips pursed again.

  Eamon waited, looking at Sean, but Sean did not look his way. After a pause, Dougal said, “I would like tae give ye more, but many of my men are gone, collecting taxes from the other parts of our lands. I can only spare ten men at this time.”

  Sean smiled. “Thank ye, laird. That will be enough. They are well-prepared tae battle with the British?”

  Dougal chuckled. “Aye, they have nae reason tae nae wish an Englishman dead, I can tell ye that. Come men, let us eat, and we will discuss yer plans for battle.”

  Isabelle knelt down behind a section of tall grass in the dark, her heart in her throat. It had been so close tonight, but she was able to nail a few more of the posters to the surrounding trees, closer to village areas, and she had made contact with another spy. Her breasts were aching as they had been pressed hard against her skin so that she appeared more like a man. It had been a busy evening, and she was ready to return to her tent and become herself again.

  But some of the men were still awake and roaming about the camp. She tried to quiet her breathing as she waited for a chance to run to her tent. She couldn’t get caught by them. Her father would fly into a rage, and then who knew what he would do to her once he had her in his grasp?

  She turned her head back to the camp, and it looked silent for a moment. She could see Loch Ness glinting in the moonlight beyond the tents. The men were simply keeping watch over the area by night. There was a far worse reason why she couldn’t get caught by the men. They might take her for themselves for the evening, threatening to reveal her secret to her father if she did not comply. She would never give a man the chance to take what was not theirs to give, but if she was overpowered, she shuddered to think of the consequences.

  In the space of silence, Isabelle stood and ran through the tents, searching for the marker of red ribbon she left on her own tent. They were all the same canvas, and by the dim light of the moon and the fireplaces, she knew it would be hard to find hers and Arya’s tent once more.

  There was another crunch of footsteps from the men, and she laid her back flat against the canvas of one tent away from the sound, hoping it wouldn’t make too many ripples in the fabric alerting the occupant inside. The footsteps passed behind her, and she saw the flash of red she had left tied around the tent stake, and she rushed behind its canvas flaps. Inside, Arya was standing pacing around, her blonde hair flying about her. “Mistress! You’ve returned!” She reached out for Isabelle and grabbed her by the arms as if to see if she was real.

  “Yes, Arya,” Isabelle breathed, trying to keep her voice quiet. She began to undo the buttons on her waistcoat and said, “Help me, please! I have spent too long in these cloth trappings!”

  Arya tsked and helped Isabelle undress and put on her white shift. “I wish you would not take so many risks, Mistress. I keep thinking about what would happen if you were caught, or if your father came looking for you in the night! What could I possibly say?”

  Isabelle laid down on the straw mattress on the floor. “You would say what we’ve discussed in the past. That I must have left while you were sleeping, and you were preparing to come and let him know.”

  Arya nodded but looked sorrowful, and Isabelle felt guilty. She had been asking her dear friend and lady’s maid, Arya, to help her for many years in her tiny rebellions. Arya had dressed her, covered and distracted others for her, and helped her to remain hidden as she ena
cted whatever it was she decided to do. It was a true friendship, but Isabelle knew that Arya was still quite young and had not the heart for breaking the rules. Isabelle knew that she was putting Arya into impossible situations.

  Sadly, she had no other option. Until she could find a way to rebel openly, she needed Arya to help her. She turned on her side to face her young friend as she laid on her mattress. “Arya, I am sorry to make you worry, but I think you’ll be happy. I put up more posters, and I made contact with the Highlander’s spy.”

  “You did? How is that possible?”

  Isabelle laughed lightly. “It must have been divine intervention. I was in the middle of nailing a poster to a tree, and a Scottish rider was going by. He stopped to ask me about the posters and who I was with. Once I explained, we were amazed that we both had messages for each other. Eamon, the Highlander I am in contact with, is at the MacManus clan. He is trying to get enough men to fight, but he has only been able to find 26. They plan to move towards the camp tomorrow.”

  Arya said, “But your father, he has more than 30 men, all armed with muskets and ruthless hearts.”