Highlander's Sinful Desire (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance)

by Maddie MacKenna

  One of the men asked, “The soldier mentioned St. James monastery. Do you think it’s possible that is where she headed?”

  “It is certainly possible. I am certain that she came through here. Whether she went voluntarily or was taken hostage by someone is a question.” Earl Strongbow said. “Wherever she is, make no mistake, we shall find her. A young lady of her caliber cannot hide out here in this wilderness for long. But let us beware. We are in disputed territory. Keep yourselves alert!”

  8

  The sun had been up for a while when Rowena opened her eyes. It was late morning. For a moment, she was not sure where she was. She lifted her head and saw Taran asleep on the floor nearby. Malcolm was on his side snoring across the room. She rose quietly and found her shoes by the door. One of the men must have removed them during the night. An awful thought occurred to her, and she checked her garments to make sure everything was in place. Satisfied that it was, she checked her skirt pocket for the ring that Sister Prudence had given her. It was still there.

  She put on her shoes and quietly slipped outside. The late September morning felt cool and slightly damp. Dark-needled pines clung to the rocky hillsides all around her. Their scent filled her nostrils and eased her soul. The leaves of the heather had begun to turn their autumn yellows providing a magnificent brightness across the rugged landscape. In the bosom of a birch grove, she knelt and closed her eyes. She whispered a prayer.

  Dear loving God, ever ready to listen to the prayers of thy servants, I most earnestly beseech thee to hearken unto me.

  To thee do I beseech and pray, trusting to the help and merits of the blessed and glorious virgin Mary, and all of your holy Angels, Archangels, and Apostles, and all of the citizens of heaven, that thou would increase the faith of thy servant, Taran, that thou would give peace to our kings; that thou would forgive us our sins; that for those in captivity and bondage thou would grant freedom; that those who are in trouble may find consolation, comfort and relief; that thou will in thy love send thy holy Angel to be our guide and protector as we travel across land and water, and wheresoever we may be; that thou will give true faith to the unbelieving; and finally, that to the faithful departed you will give eternal rest.

  Amen.

  So consumed in her prayers, she had not heard Taran tiptoe up behind her. She opened her eyes and settled for a moment, savoring the stillness in her soul. Taran quietly came to her side and reached a hand out to her in offering to help her to her feet. She smiled, crossed herself, and took his hand. “Forgive me for disturbing yer respite, Sister,” he said. “I saw yer bed was empty.”

  She smiled back at him. “You did not disturb me, Taran. Good morning. Thank you for your concern.” She held his hand for a moment, squeezed it and finally let it go. His touch made her tingle. His scent reminded her of leather and sage.

  “This is a lovely vista,” she said, gesturing to the green, rolling ridgetops in the distance. They looked to Rowena like bands of fine green ribbons, layered unevenly, their edges overlapping each other. As she admired the distant hills, she saw something moving. A deer, perhaps? She squinted. It was a person! Oh, it cannot be, they have found us so quickly!

  Rowena tried not to panic. She said, “Taran, look, on the hilltop! Someone is up there!” She exclaimed nervously and pointed at the moving figure. “Who can it be?”

  Fast as a lightning bolt, Taran spun around to see who was there, immediately alert for danger. He saw a smallish figure walking confidently along the ridgeline just beyond the next hill. Rowena saw Taran’s body relax. Taran said, “Och, tis’young Donnie MacDonnelly. His faither sends his sons out scoutin’ for raiders every day. They keep an eye on me place here, too.”

  Taran raised a hand in greeting, signaling to Donnie that everything was all right. Rowena also raised her hand in a gentle, graceful motion to express her appreciation of the boy’s concern for the wellbeing of Taran and his countrymen. She loved children and under other circumstances would have taken time to talk to him.

  Donnie waved back to them, then he turned and went in the other direction. Taran said, “I am lucky to have such good friends in the shire.”

  Rowena smiled. She said, “You are more than lucky. You are blessed. You are kind to your brothers, and God rewards those who love their brothers.”

  Taran smiled back at her sheepishly. “Me clan would not have fared so well without the kindness everyone has shown to us. We dae all we can to show our gratitude for what they have done for us.”

  Rowena had sensed that Taran had a goodness about him, and the way he spoke about Donnie and his friends and neighbors confirmed the depth of the compassion Taran had for his people. Despite his prowess as a lethal warrior, he had a tender heart.

  She realized just then that she had been gazing at him for a long moment without speaking. She was embarrassed, but he did not seem to mind. He had been gazing back at her with his twinkling green eyes. He gave her a lovely smile, then finally broke his gaze. Rowena did not want the moment to end.

  Taran motioned to a stack of firewood. “I will get a cookin’ fire started for us. A bit of grub will dae us good,” he said, then grinned. “We need to fill our stomachs before we go much further.” There was that smile again, Rowena thought. When he smiled at her, she felt her heart nearly leap out of her chest. In the daylight, his bright green eyes sparkled. Dark red hair tumbled in unruly waves across his forehead and nearly touched his shoulders in the back. His complexion was smooth and tan, with cheekbones that seemed carved in stone.

  A smattering of the palest freckles dusted his tanned cheeks, which gave him a slightly boyish look. His smile was wide, with generous lips pulled tight across gleaming white teeth. A square jaw angled back from a strong chin and outlined the lower half of his very masculine, handsome face. My goodness, God had created a fine-looking man in this one, she thought.

  “Let me help you,” she said. She was very, hungry but was not about to admit it. All she had was a little bit of bread that Sister Prudence had tossed in her sack just before she escaped.

  He said, “Thank ye, but this is heavy work. I will get the wood and make a fire. Ye will find a vegetable garden in the side yard. I cannae be sure what is there. I’ll meet ye there in a moment.” They stood looking at each for several moments, as if not wanting to leave each other’s company at all. Rowena was having trouble ignoring the heat stirring inside herself whenever he was nearby. Was he feeling the same way? No matter, she thought. I must set aside these strange feelings and think only of my God.

  Rowena forced herself to turn away and find the garden. It did not take her long. She noticed that in the last several months, it had been planted and tended. Now, however, wandering through it was tricky. It had become overgrown with weeds but held bountiful rows of turnips, onions, and cucumbers. They could make a decent potage with this. Then, she spotted clumps of assorted herbs. That was even better! She could replenish her own supply. She wanted to have plenty on hand for this journey.

  As she picked her way through the garden, Taran reappeared and started helping her select ripe vegetables. He looked for vegetables and she focused on harvesting as many herbs as she could. She was anxious to know where they were. Would it be rude of me to ask? After a few moments, she could not wait any longer. She asked, “Taran, where are we?”

  He flashed that amazing grin of his. “We are about ten or so miles south of Glasgow. On land owned by me family.”

  “So, we are in Scotland, then?” She asked.

  “It depends on who ye ask. Since ye are asking me, yes, we are in Scotland. But I fear yer young King Richard would disagree,” he said.

  “I see. You are from these parts, then?” she asked.

  “Aye, I have spent all of me life in the Highlands. I am Laird of the Frenich at Loch Lomond. I am chief of the clan Robertson. Our castle sits on a large sheep farm just northwest of Glasgow,” he said proudly. “Me family is one of the largest producers and exporters of wool in Scotland.”r />
  Oh, Rowena thought, so that explains his well-mannered comportment. Her expression became mischievous, and she said, “Is that so? I fancied you a Highland scoundrel, not a Highland squire! What was a Highland gentleman like you doing out in the Kielder Forest late last night?”

  Taran understood her tease and chortled. He had asked her the very same question last night. “A lass with a bit of humor, are ye? Best watch yerself, Sister, or ye be goin’ south, if ye ken my meaning’,” he joked. Then in a more serious tone, he said, “Sure, I can see why ye would question me. But nay, a raider I am nae, though I confess me loyalties lie with Scotland, nae with England.”

  Rowena eyed Taran warily now. She could not mistake the depth of his passion as he spoke. “Nay, I cannae hide me loathing for the English, beggin’ yer pardon, Sister.”

  She said, “I am not offended. Remember, I have been living in an abbey for seven years. People confide in us about their problems all the time. People harbor all sorts of hatred toward others, and most believe themselves justified.”

  Taran said, “I suppose I am nay different from any other troubled soul. Who better to confide in than a nun?”

  “Yes. People come to the abbey seeking counsel from the sisters all the time. Some seek spiritual guidance. They are all trying to unburden themselves. Praying with them is core to the life of a nun. I am happy to do it.”

  Rowena smiled easily as she described a little bit about her life as a nun. Taran saw that she was being completely honest about the fact that she liked it. He sensed no guile from her. He found it a little unsettling; he was used to women who flirted with him and teased him. Awkwardly, he said, “I admire yer charity in all of that. Listenin’ to people’s problems and such.”

  Rowena ignored his comment. She wanted to hear Taran talk about his own source of hatred of the English. She suspected that he needed to talk about it in order to purge it. She said calmly, “Taran, hatred destroys your soul. If you cannot love your enemy, ask God for clarity and wisdom. As a nun, I am called upon to help people see that. Forgive me, but I cannot help notice that your hatred for the English runs deep.”

  Taran sighed but only shook his head. She said, “I suppose it’s not easy for you to talk about.”

  He sniggered. “Nay, ‘tis easy. Too easy! But I dae nae wish to offend ye with it, considerin’ that ye’re English yerself.”

  In her gentlest voice, she said, “Indeed, English I am,” she said. “Yet here I am . . . in Scotland . . . unarmed . . . under your protection, for which I am deeply grateful. Does that not make us friends?” She grinned at him.

  She saw his eyes flicker, and he laughed. “Aye, it does. We are friends, Sister.” Then he started talking. “I once had an older brother. He was ten years older than me, so I barely knew him. One day, the English came onto our lands and plundered our sheep. Our claim to the land was not in dispute, yet they came anyway. Me brother tried to fight them off, but they killed him with the stroke of a broadsword across his neck.”

  Rowena gasped, “Oh! That is terrible! You must have been so sad.” She put a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, “I’m so sorry.”

  “I loved me brother. Och, but that is not all of it,” he continued. “That followin’ spring, me two older sisters were to be wed. One was betrothed to an English nobleman, an arrangement created by me faither. Her betrothed was nae a friend of the English king – King Edward. We did nae care. Finally, joy had returned to the castle. But it all came to an end on their weddin’ day.”

  “What do you mean?” Rowena asked.

  Taran looked at her and said, “Both of them vanished! Me sisters, on their weddin’ day ... they both disappeared! We daenae know what became of them for certain, but we suspect they were taken prisoners by the English and killed! I pray they didnae suffer at the hands of those bastards! So, me lass, that is why I detest yer countrymen and yer king!” He spat the words out.

  Rowena nodded. There was not much she could say. “I see. Yes, you have suffered great losses, Taran. You have my heartfelt condolences.”

  Taran looked away. He had not known his brother well, but looked up to him. His two sisters were another story. He adored his sisters. When his mother had become so ill and the black blotches of pestilence erupted all over her, everyone knew she would die. His sisters stepped in and took over the motherly responsibilities. They doted on him and spoiled the adorable little Taran. He grew into a fine-looking, well-heeled young lad and became the target of many young girls’ fantasies.

  Taran kept talking. As Rowena had said, talking about it was making him feel better. He hoped it cleansed his soul and helped him think more clearly. He said, “When me sisters vanished, I could nae find comfort.” He grimaced. “I never discuss it. It pains me to this very day, and I believe it will until I depart this life.”

  Rowena stayed silent. He was not finished talking. “Yet here I am, talkin’ to ye as though I have known ye for years.”

  “That is a nun’s job, Taran,” Rowena said with a chuckle.

  “I guess ye’ll make a fine nun, then,” he said wryly.

  She smiled and nodded. “I hope so. But, you have not answered my question.”

  Taran looked confused. He had forgotten that she had asked a question. “What was yer question?”

  “Why were you out in Kielder last night?” She asked.

  “Och, of course. Now I remember. Either I’m catchin’ up with Malcolm’s old age or ye’re havin’ some kind of effect on me,” he muttered. Then he continued. “It is a long-winded story, so forgive me if I ramble on a bit. The fortunes of the clan Robertson now rest with me. Some weeks back, I had contacted some English wool merchants about supplyin’ them with good quality fleece for their wool fabrics.

  “Two days ago, Malcolm and I left Glasgow to meet with them in Staffordshire. We were supposed to be in Staffordshire … well, it would have been today just about the noon hour ….We stopped here at me lodge to rest and re-stock the place with supplies. I like to keep it well-tended. It is hidden from view by the pine trees and a good place to seek refuge.

  “As fate would have it, we got a late start yesterday because me horse turned up lame. We left the horse in the care of a riever and set off on foot. We finally got started just after supper and planned to stay overnight in Staffordshire.

  “But when we spotted the English soldiers prowlin’ about, we thought it best to lag behind and avoid encounters with them. When we saw the thieves attack them, we had nay choice but to help. As ye saw, the soldiers did nae appreciate what we did for them.”

  Rowena nodded. It all sounded plausible to her. She was impressed by Taran’s selfless decision to protect the English soldiers at the risk of his own life and suspected that God probably was, too. She said, “What the soldiers thought about you is of no concern. What is important is what God thought. I am certain He appreciated what you did for them and protected you.”

  Taran laughed wryly and shook his head. “Well, Sister, if only I had yer faith. Yer faith clearly runs deep. But tell me, why, if God cares about any of us, why does He let us hurt each other the way we do?”

  Rowena shook her head. “I have no answer for you, Taran. I only know that love is the best way. God is love. Love prevails over all else.”

  Taran sighed. “In any case, whether it was God’s hand at work or the devil’s, we could nae leave those men to die a certain gruesome death. As much as I despise the English, I couldnae watch them be executed.”

  “Well then, perhaps there is hope for you yet!” Rowena said playfully.

  He took her hand. “That is wonderful news, Sister!”

  They went back inside where Malcolm was up and putting his boots on. “Mornin’,” Taran said.

  “Mornin’ to ye both,” Malcolm said. “Seems ye’ve got a fire blazin’. Dae ye think it wise to linger? Nae doubt Lady Deirdre is wonderin’ about ye!”

  Taran said, “She can take care of herself, Malcolm, thank ye. Nay, we should cook up
some hash and to feed ourselves now and take with us. We’ll be on our way well before nightfall.”

  Rowena asked with worry in her voice, “But the smoke from the fire. Won’t it attract whoever may be searching for us?”

  “Who would be lookin’ for us now?” Taran asked, surprising Rowena with his question.

  “Um,” she stammered. “Wouldn’t the English soldiers be chasing us?”

  Taran shook his head. “Nay, they turned back last night.”

  “How can you be sure?” she asked.

  “Trust me lass, I am nae mistaken about that,” he said with confidence. “Unless . . . they are trackin’ ye. Are they trackin’ye?” he asked her pointedly.

  She did not know how to respond. It was a sin to lie. She gave a vague response that was not really a lie, but it was not the complete truth, either. She said, “I don’t know. I merely presumed that the soldiers would be chasing after us, that is all,” she said.