Highlander's Daring Escape (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Alisa Adams

  There was something exotic about the Highlands that appealed to her. It seemed far away even though it didn’t take long to travel across the border into the new territory. It was rough and raw and there was something about the air and atmosphere that was dangerous and exciting. Every time she ventured into the Highlands her heart trembled with excitement, for she anticipated that anything might happen, even though she knew rationally that she was well-guarded and it was unlikely that her uncle would let anything happen to her. She was far too valuable to the future of the family for him to take his eyes off of her, but there was always that glimmer of hope that something exciting would happen, some adventure she could have as a final goodbye to her youth, before she was taken down to the heart of England and given in matrimony to some lord somewhere.

  “I don’t think it’s as bad as all you say, Uncle,” she replied diplomatically. Uncle Nathaniel merely gave her a withering stare but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her comment.

  “We have to keep them on a tight leash, you see. We can’t give them any opportunity to think that we’re weak, otherwise they’ll come down and try to take what’s not theirs. I’m sure you have heard of that trouble not too long ago. Your father made the wise decision not to get involved. I don’t know why Lord Harold has been content to sit in his estate and not take vengeance on his brother and father, or punish the Highlanders for stealing his sister. People even speculate that she went there by choice! Can you believe that?” He shook his head and sighed as if he couldn’t comprehend why anyone would want to avoid violence.

  Catherine thought of the story and unlike her uncle she did believe that Sarina had chosen to stay in the Highlands. For her uncle, marriage was nothing but a political arrangement, but Catherine was a woman and she knew how powerful love could be. There was something intriguing and exciting about the thought of coming across a strong, wild Highlander and throwing herself at the mercy of his passion. Whenever she thought about things like these she blushed, for she was an innocent maiden, and she knew it was improper to have these thoughts. She would never share them with anyone and she knew that it would never be a part of her life, and yet, on occasion, it was somewhat fun to think about the possibilities.

  The rest of the wagon ride was spent with her Uncle musing on the state of affairs in the nation. Catherine got the impression that he liked the sound of his voice more than anything else and she found herself wishing that her father had accompanied her on this journey instead, for he would have been much better company and spoken with her rather than lectured her about things she didn’t understand nor had any desire to understand. At least her father would have been jovial, but sadly he didn’t have any interest and left these administrative matters, like collecting taxes, to Uncle Nathaniel.

  The wagon trundled along and Catherine tried to ignore her uncle as best she could. She gazed outside and exchanged glances with Betsy, who shared her opinion of her uncle. The two of them suppressed smiles, and Nathaniel seemed completely unaware that he was being silently mocked.

  The golden rays of the sun warmed her white arm and highlighted the soft freckles. She twisted her wrist and tried to catch the sunlight on her fingers, marveling at the beauty of nature.

  “Are there places like this in the heart of the country?” she asked idly. Nathaniel arched an eyebrow.

  “I should think not. We are moving into the future. Perhaps there are some gardens somewhere that offer this sort of thing, but otherwise no. There are grand castles and big markets, farms that stretch across the land as far as the eye can see. There are carts and wagons and all manner of wonderful things that are of use to the country. None of this useless frippery.” He gazed with derision at the natural world.

  “It’s not useless, it’s beautiful.”

  Nathaniel sighed again. “It always falls to a woman to think of the most meaningless things,” he said under his breath, and then he addressed her directly. “The only thing that truly matters is the function something has. Beauty doesn’t help the country win wars and it doesn’t help provide wealth. I’m sure that it is wonderful as a means of distraction, but it doesn’t have any inherent value and I’m glad to see that the King agrees, which is why he has been building fortresses and other structures that will help us become a strong nation. Do you think these flowers would be able to stop a country or conquer a nation?”

  “No, Uncle,” Catherine said sullenly. Nathaniel sat back and looked smug, as though he had proven his point, although Catherine had the feeling that they were arguing about something completely different.

  She hoped that whatever husband was chosen for her wouldn’t be so obsessed with talking politics like her uncle was, but sadly it seemed as though the duty of choosing her husband had fallen to her uncle. She doubted that he would choose someone who was kind and compassionate, who had an appreciation for beauty and all the wonders of the natural world. Perhaps, really, such a man didn’t exist and she was deluding herself by thinking he did. Maybe all men were like her father and uncle, and like so many women before her, she would simply have to set her expectations aside and try to find happiness wherever she could.

  3

  Bryan had wandered into town, looking for any sign of work. He saw a few old posters up claiming rewards for bandits. Finding villains and delivering them to the law had been one way to earn a little coin, but recently the attacks by bandits had become far less common. There was word that some mighty warriors had gone to war with the bandits and had decimated their infrastructure. It was a good thing for the travelers and peasants across the land, but bad for anyone who tried to earn their living by collecting ransoms. Bryan used what little coin he had to get a good meal and a mug of ale. The tavern was always a good place to hear chatter and seek out opportunities, so he perched himself on a stool and opened his ears to the stories of the people who lived in the village.

  He heard much gossip about people he didn’t know, and he received glances of affection from girls a little too young for him, who were attracted to his rough demeanor and strange, brooding aura. He caught them giggling and smiling, and once upon a time he would have enjoyed the game of attraction, making eyes across the room, but now that didn’t seem enough. There was no woman who had truly captured his soul.

  His father had often regaled him with stories of his mother and what it had been like to be in love. Sadly, Bryan had never known his mother, for she had died while he was very young, but in a way he had come to know her through his father’s stories. Bryan’s father had spoken of her with such passion and such love it was as though he breathed life into her again and she rose from the afterlife like a ghost, accompanying them always. He wanted to feel the same thing for himself, to know that he could trust another person with his heart, his life, with everything he had. He wanted to be devoted and to know that he would do anything for the woman he loved. When you had nothing else, love became everything, although he was sure that even if he had a castle and land he would still cherish his love. After a long time of being alone he knew that there was nothing sweeter than being with somebody else.

  After some time he saw a squat, stocky man with coarse red spots on his cheeks and well-worn clothes come in, shaking his head. He slapped his palm on the bar and demanded a mug of ale, and he drank most of it in one long gulp. His hair was grey and he looked tired and hot, and, Bryan noticed, like a man in need.

  The tavern was mostly empty so there were plenty of chairs to choose from, but the man didn’t seem concerned with sitting down. Bryan rose and walked up to him, offering the man his friendliest smile.

  “Ye look like you’re in need of some help friend, why dinnae ye join me and I can see if there’s anything I can dae?”

  The man narrowed his eyes and looked at Bryan, then towards his glass. “Aye, that sounds like a good wee plan, if ye can refill my mug,” he said.

  Bryan felt around in his pouch. It would use the last of his money, and his face paled a little, but they were going to be spent
eventually and he thought he might as well use them in the hope of finding and opportunity to work rather than holding onto them. He took out the coins and pressed them onto the bar, moving them in the direction of the serving girl, who took them and served up two ales. The stranger raised his glass and grinned, then they made their way back to the table.

  Bryan introduced himself and learned that the man’s name was Hamish, and he clearly had a big appetite for drinking. His body was wide, his stomach large and round, but his arms were thick with muscle and his hands were rough and calloused. He was evidently a man of the land.

  “Well ye see Bryan, I’ve been haeing a wee bit of a problem. I hae this wee lad helping me but he ran off when he got wind that another farmer was paying twice as much as me up here! He was supposed tae help me transport some goods back tae the farm, and I cannae dae it myself, and it seems I cannae afford tae pay the going rate around these parts.” His head dropped in shame a little, and Bryan understood. “I could use a good strong man like ye, but I know I cannae afford ye.”

  “Why is that, out of interest?” Bryan asked, not understanding why some farms could pay more than others.

  “The farmers up here are lucky. They dinnae hae tae worry about the English,” he spat as he mentioned the old enemy.

  “What dae the English hae tae dae with farming?”

  “Oh aye, ye’d think naething wouldn’t ye! But they like tae stick their noses and their grubby little hands in wherever they can. They dinnae work themselves ye see, they just want tae take all our hard work, and there’s naething I can dae!”

  “Cannae ye fight back?”

  “Oh aye,” Hamish scoffed, “what dae ye expect me tae dae, take a pitchfork against their armies? I’m a farmer, nae a fighter, but I see ye may have some experience.” Hamish’s eyes twinkled as he spied the golden hilt of Bryan’s sword. Bryan coughed and shifted his body, hiding the sword from view.

  “I’ve never fought an Englishman before.”

  “I imagine they bleed the same as any other, but I would nae expect ye tae fight. Look, they come tae me and they ask me tae give them money for protection, they call it, but really it’s so they won’t attack me and take my farm. I cannae afford nae tae. The farm is all I hae, but if a strong lad like ye would stand beside me they might think twice about trying tae squeeze more coin out of me than I can handle, and I’m sure a big strong lad like ye can help out on the farm as well, and if ye cannae, well, it’s the easiest thing in the world tae learn. Ye have me at a vulnerable spot and I know I cannae pay ye what ye could fetch at any other farm, but I think maybe ye are nae needed as much at others’ arms as ye are with me. I can offer ye a place tae stay and ye never know, if ye prove yeself ye may end up with some land yeself. If ye can put up with the English there is opportunity waiting for ye.”

  Bryan’s ears pricked up at this. He didn’t like the idea of being a glorified guard nor of fighting the English because he didn’t want to go to war with an entire army, but it was an opportunity, and if he could learn the ways of the land it would stand him in good stead for the future.

  “Ye hae a deal,” Bryan said, holding out his hand. Hamish took it and the two men shook heartily. To celebrate the deal, Hamish said, they would need to have another drink, this time on him.

  Hamish seemed like a man who wanted to enjoy every bit of joy life offered him. He was an exuberant man and he spoke loudly. He had an expressive face and Bryan imagined that he did quite well at markets, for he had the kind of disarming personality that all good farmers had.

  “Sae, where dae ye come from Bryan?”

  “Oh…nowhere really. I dinnae suppose ye hae heard of the Pressley clan?”

  Hamish searched his mind, but shook his head.

  “Well, that’s my family name, but I’ve been alone for a while now, just traveling the land, trying tae find a place tae settle down.”

  “Aye, well I cannae promise ye a grand palace, but ye’ll hae everything my family can offer ye. My wife Martha cooks the best food ye will ever hae tasted, and my daughter Janie is a sweet wee thing. She’s almost at the age tae be married,” Hamish said, with a knowing look in his eyes. Bryan smiled politely and wondered just what he had gotten himself in for. He thanked Hamish for the company and mostly listened while Hamish spoke about farm life. He was happy to talk about anything he wanted, and Bryan was happy to listen in silence, so they made a good pair.

  Hamish led Bryan out to his cart and horse. It had been a good trip to the market. Hamish patted the pouch of coins and winked at Bryan, while also walking him through the trades he had made to get goods that he couldn’t otherwise buy. The two men climbed onto the cart and Hamish took the reins and whipped them. The horse ambled along down the road out of town, and they made their way south to the Lowlands.

  “Sae why dae the English want tae take money from ye?” Bryan asked. “Are they nae rich enough already?”

  Hamish chuckled dryly. “There’s nae rich man who dinnae want tae be richer. The English hae never paid us respect and they think that we’re easy pickings. They dinnae attack us directly, and I hae nae strong laird that can defend me. I suppose I could appeal tae one and try tae raise enough of a fuss for them tae raise an army, but I dinnae want armies running amok around my land, turning up all the fields, because when all the dust settles I’ll be left with ruined land. Mark my words boy, the only people who truly suffer from a war are people like you and me, the commoners. It’s better tae pay them, but once ye start paying them they get used tae it, and they start asking for more, and then ye get tae where I am today. I tell ye, it is a grim thing tae work this hard and hae naething tae show for it.”

  Bryan felt great pity for the man and wished that the world was different. He’d seen much injustice, and he couldn’t understand why more wasn’t being done about it.

  “If I were ever in power I’d make sure that nobody suffered,” Bryan said.

  “Aye, grand dreams lad, but the chances of ye or me ever having such power, well, we might as well dream of flying,” Hamish laughed again.

  Bryan was filled with frustration. He knew that he was meant for more than this, and he knew that he could have done so much more with his power than some of the other lairds in the land. They seemed content to settle and didn’t give proper consideration to the real problems plaguing the land. Bryan knew that if any of his subjects were being extorted by the English he would put a stop to it right away. It wasn’t even their land, and they were taking great liberties with their rights.

  The journey lasted a few hours and was uneventful. Hamish spoke about how he used to be wary of bandits whenever he traveled, but there was no need to be afraid anymore.

  “Martha is the happiest out of all of us. She was always scared for me whenever I left and worked herself up into quite a state. Ah, she’s a sweet lass really. I dinnae know what I’d dae without her,” Hamish said, and Bryan could tell that he genuinely meant it. Bryan smiled at the stories Hamish told and he was curious about how the two of them had met and how their lives had unfolded.

  “Really I wanted a son tae carry on the farm, but I could nae hae asked for a better daughter than Janie. I just wish I could hae given her a better life. I never wanted a daughter tae work as hard as she daes, and I dae worry if she would be able tae handle the farm on her own. She needs a strong husband who can stand up tae the English,” Hamish said. He wasn’t exactly subtle, Bryan thought, and it was something of a miracle that Hamish hadn’t already made a proposal for marriage on behalf of his daughter.

  On the journey Bryan thought about what it would be like to own his own land and be master of the crops and fields. It wasn’t exactly like being a mighty warrior as his ancestors had been, but there was something charming in the pure, basic nobility of it all. It was hard, honest work, and after the life he had lived there was certainly no lack of desire on his part for something like that. He could call the place his home, and over the years the humble beginnings might grow, as would
his family. It could be the start of something amazing, something that meant he would be able to return to his father and declare with pride that he had restored some dignity to the Pressley name.

  They rode past thickets of trees and along a babbling stream. Birds soared and cawed overheard, and frequently Bryan peered towards the forest and saw small animals scurrying about hither and thither, going about their business, avoiding the loud thunder of the horses’ hooves.

  Hamish and Bryan took turns at driving the cart, and when it was Bryan’s turn to drive Hamish leaned back and snoozed, sleeping off the beer he’d drunk. Bryan smirked at the manner in which Hamish was easily able to fall asleep even on a trundling cart, and at the trust he showed in Bryan not to take advantage of his slumber.

  Bryan thought on the matter of the English and considered it terrible that anyone should use their power and might for personal gain and greed. As far as he was concerned power was to be used for the benefit of protecting those who were weaker than him, not to further dominate them. It was unfair, but then so was much of life. There was much about the world he would change if he had the opportunity.

  The road widened and wound around a hill. In the distance Bryan saw a plume of smoke rising from a squat cottage. There were small walls around the home, and in the background he saw animals grazing. Cows and sheep were in the fields, and attached to the right side of the house was a pigsty. He heard chickens clucking as he approached and it seemed as though Hamish had quite a range of animals on his farm. The horses’ hooves clopped against the path that led to the house, and the door was flung open. A woman wearing a yellow homespun frock came rushing out with a look of relief on her face. Hamish leaped down and they embraced passionately. Bryan turned his eyes away out of modesty, but the couple didn’t seem to have any qualms about displaying their affection.