A Highlander Forged In Fire (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Kenna Kendrick

  Fraser watched the Laird with interest. He was well built for his age, with a noble look about him, though clearly, he carried a great burden upon him. Fraser had heard many stories about him, and his rescue of Isla was the stuff of local legend. But could this man now defend them all against an English invasion? From his hiding place, he could see Isla at the window; she was watching her father and casting a glance over to where Fraser was hiding.

  He dared not move until Alistair and his men had ridden off, and as they passed by his hiding place, he recoiled, pressing himself against the wall, the mud and wet of the peat beneath him seeping into his tunic and causing him to shiver. When at last he thought it safe to emerge, he glanced up at the window again. Isla was still there, and he pointed towards the stable yard and nodded to her before turning and cautiously making his way down the track.

  He took a shortcut across the heathers, which, though boggy, brought him to the village by a way which avoided the top road and the potential to come face to face with the Laird. He had been foolish to go to the castle that day, and he could hardly believe his boldness in doing so. But Fraser’s feelings for Isla were enough to make him bold enough to throw caution to the wind, and he was glad he made the walk that day, despite the danger.

  “Did ye see her, brother?” Duncan asked as Fraser entered the cottage later that day.

  “Aye, I saw her, though we didnae speak. I left a message for her with Sweeney. We will see each other tomorrow, I hope,” Fraser replied, taking a piece of bread and cheese for his supper.

  “Ye are smitten with her,” Duncan said, smiling at Fraser, who blushed.

  “She is a bonnie lass, and I like her. I am glad I saw that she was alright, that is all,” Fraser replied, as his brother laughed.

  “The Laird rode past just before ye arrived back, but he paid me nae attention as he did so,” Duncan said, settling himself opposite his brother by the fire.

  “The Laird is nae interested in the likes of us, Duncan. But if he can protect this village from the English, then all is well and good,” Fraser replied.

  “Even though he has nae love for ye, brother?” Duncan replied.

  “I am nae worried what the Laird thinks of me. He can dislike me all he wants, but I am glad I have seen Isla today,” Fraser replied, leaning back and closing his eyes.

  It had been good to see Isla, if only from afar, and now Fraser pictured their meeting the next day. Perhaps this time, they would share the kiss that had almost been upon the ridge, and he could tell her just how much he had come to delight in her. He wondered if she too shared those same feelings, and as the fire burned low, all fears of the English were banished as Fraser thought only of Isla and all that might be between them.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Sweeney, did ye see Fraser?” Isla asked, as she emerged from the castle later that afternoon. “He was here. I saw him hiding by the wall there, but I couldnae come out because my father was there. What did he say?”

  “Calm yerself, lass. Aye, I spoke with him. He is a fool for comin’ here in such a manner. If yer father had seen him …” Sweeney said, shaking his head.

  “My father has more important things to worry about than Fraser now. The English are about to cross the border, and if they have their way, then there shall be nothin’ worth worryin’ about again, for we shall all be in our graves. Now, what did Fraser say?” she said.

  “He wanted to speak with ye, but I told him it was too dangerous, but he left a message for ye. If ye can, then ye are to meet him at the old croft over at Triermain, when the sun is at its midpoint tomorrow. He will be there waitin’, but I have told him that I am no longer going to act as a go-between for the both of ye. I have done what was asked of me and delivered the message. ‘Tis up to ye what ye dae with it now,” Sweeney replied.

  Isla laughed at him and shook her head.

  “Ye are funny, Sweeney. Listen to ye with yer pompous sentiments. Ye have passed a few messages, and now ye think we owe ye the world. Nae doubt ye shall continue yer bad habits with the liquor at my father’s expense, and I shall turn a blind eye,” she said, shaking her head.

  Sweeney looked embarrassed and began to mumble a response, but Isla raised a finger to her lips and hushed him, as the sound of horses came from behind.

  “Tis yer father, lass, and the others. What news dae ye think they bring?” Sweeney asked, stepping forward to catch the horse’s reins, as Alistair and the others rode up.

  “The scouts are on the road now; we shall soon hear of any English passing over the border. I, for one, will sleep safer tonight, but there is no sign of any English aggression. Perhaps all this was just a bluff,” Alistair said, dismounting his horse and kissing Isla on the cheek.

  “The English are cowards, father; when they see our strength, they will soon retreat,” Isla replied.

  “Aye, spoken like the daughter of a warrior, lass,” he replied. “Ye hear that men, my daughter the warrior,” and the others laughed.

  Her father seemed in a better mood than he had been in many weeks, as though surer of his position than he had been before. As they sat that evening, he spoke of past victories and times when the Scottish clans seemed almost defeated, only to rise again and triumph over their foes.

  “My greatest defeat was on the day yer parents died, lass,” he said, after his fourth dram of whiskey, as the two sat by the fire. “The anniversary is tomorrow, ye know.”

  Isla had not remembered, and she scolded herself for having forgotten. She had been so caught up in her thoughts over Fraser that the anniversary of her parent’s death had quite slipped her mind, and now the significance and coincidence of going to the old croft at Triermain the next day struck her. It had been there that her grandparents had resided, and she had spent many happy days there as a young child, playing in the meadows and helping with the livestock. Before the English came.

  On that fateful day, all those years ago, the croft had been burned, while the Armstrong castle was ransacked and her parents killed. She could not help but shed a tear as her father reminded her of that fateful day and once more assured her that he would take care of her for the rest of his days.

  “I think tomorrow I should like to take a walk out to Triermain and think of them all,” she said, coming to sit by her father and placing her head upon his shoulder.

  “Aye, lass. That would be a good thing to dae. A walk will dae ye good. I could accompany ye perhaps, I know we have nae spent much time together lately,” he replied, placing a protective arm around her.

  “Nae, if ye dinnae mind, father, I would like to go alone and be with my thoughts,” she replied.

  “Aye, be with yer thoughts, but take care as ye go. We are livin’ in dangerous times, and whether the English are bluffin’ or nae, there is danger in every place. Keep yer wits about ye, lass,” and he held her close to him.

  Isla had always felt safest with her father. He was the strongest and noblest man she knew, but in these past few days, she had seen something of the same in Fraser. He may not have her father’s brashness or his warrior’s strength, but there was a gentle nobility to Fraser, one which she found entirely delightful. His quiet sensibilities and kindness were qualities that she could not help but admire, and she was so glad to be seeing him again the next day.

  As she bid her father goodnight, Isla thought again of Fraser, and she wondered what life might have been like had she not been left an orphan. Would she still have met him? Would she have been allowed to do so? She pictured her parents, or at least the vague image she still recalled. She could hear her mother singing and see her father holding her in his arms. But the memories were vague, and there was little to cling to. Perhaps the croft at Triermain would offer more memories, and she looked forward to meeting Fraser there the next day and once again being in his arms.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next day dawned cloudy and overcast. There was the threat of rain on the horizon, and it would be hard to tell when the su
n reached its midpoint. Isla made her excuse to depart from Kirklinton early, just after breakfast. Her father had just received visitors from the north, nobles who had come to pledge their support for the cause and promised to fight alongside the Elliotts in their conflict with the English. He was in a good mood, and despite the sad anniversary, he wished his daughter a good day, kissing her upon the forehead as she left.

  “Dae nae be late back, lass, and keep yer wits about ye as ye walk. Yer parents are lookin’ down on ye this day and protectin’ ye though,” he said, crossing himself as she bid him goodbye.

  Outside, Isla nodded to Sweeney, who gave her a knowing smile as she made her way across the heathers. Triermain was some miles away, close to the burnt-out castle where she had been born. As she came across the ridge of the marshes, she could see the forlorn-looking stones and timber of that once happy place.

  As a child, she could remember the delight of playing in the brook, which ran below, and of running in the woods, which stretched up the hills behind. She could see Triermain now and the roofless croft that had once been her grandparent’s home. The sight filled her with sorrow, and for a moment, she paused, allowing herself to return to her childhood when life seemed so simple and innocent. How dare the English take all this away from her and leave her orphaned. It seemed so unfair, and a tear ran down her cheek as she looked across the landscape, so full of memories.

  It had been some time since she had made this walk, and as she came to the croft, she saw it had become ever more dilapidated, part of the roof having fallen in, and the wall at the rear collapsed. But it was still recognizably the home of her grandparents, a place filled with memories which now came to the fore. The table had rotted in the harsh winters of years gone by, and the chairs lay broken around. But at the back, where the roof remained, she found some shelter and settled herself down to wait for Fraser.

  She could just see her grandmother, with her long grey hair tied back, bent low over the hearth, and her grandfather demanding his griddle cakes in his gruff but kindly voice. She used to sit for hours as a child, watching her grandmother at work, and if ever her mother and father couldn’t find her, they would know that she was at Triermain. So caught up was Isla in these thoughts that she failed to hear footsteps approaching, and as Fraser entered the croft, she startled, looking up at his smiling face.

  “Ye came,” he said, holding out his arms to her.

  “Of course, I came, I have thought of nothin’ else but seein’ ye these past days,” she replied as he embraced her, and she rested her head upon his shoulder.

  “I didnae know if yer father would allow ye to come. I saw more of his soldiers riding’ past last night, and Duncan said that the Laird himself passed by just before I arrived home,” Fraser said, seating himself next to Isla under the shelter of the roof.

  “He couldnae refuse me today, nae to walk here anyway,” she said, looking around her sadly.

  “Why? Dae ye have some connection to this old place?” he asked.

  “Aye, Triermain was my grandparent’s croft. We are only a short distance from the castle belongin’ to my parents. Today is the anniversary of their deaths, and I would have walked here had we been meetin’ or nae,” she replied, resting her head upon his shoulder.

  “Isla, I am sorry. I didnae realize this place held such memories. I wouldnae have suggested we meet here if …” he began, embarrassed by her words.

  “‘Tis alright, Fraser. If there is anyone, except my father, that I would wish to be with on this day, ‘tis ye. I … I have thought so much of ye these past days, and when ye came to Kirklinton to check up on me, I was ever so touched,” she replied, turning to him and smiling.

  “Aye, well, it was a foolish thing to do, but then …” Fraser began.

  “We dae foolish things for love,” she replied, and leaning forward, she kissed him, their lips gently parting as she smiled at him.

  “I …” he began, blushing.

  “I am glad ye asked me to come here today,” she said, resting her head upon his shoulder again, “all this talk of English invasions, ‘tis unsettling, but if we can have each other, then all of that doesnae matter, Fraser,” she said,.

  “But yer father still forbids it,” he replied, sadly.

  “Aye, but in time perhaps he will come around. I can try and talk to him again, get him to see reason. Surely, he cannae stop me from falling in love,” she said, catching herself as the last words came out.

  “Love?” he said, turning to her.

  “Aye … I think so, I have never been in love, and I dinnae know what ‘tis like to be so. All I know is that I have never felt like this about anyone, and I know ‘tis quick; I know we hardly know one another. But I feel as though I should know ye more. Ye are so familiar to me. I feel such a closeness to ye already. I cannae describe it,” she said, looking intently at him.

  “I feel the same way for ye, Isla. I feel as though we have known each other far longer than we have. There is somethin’ that connects us and binds us together. I dinnae know what ‘tis but ‘tis there,” he said.

  Isla smiled at him and nodded, knowing that she could not find the words to express just what it was that she felt for Fraser. It was as though they had been friends all their lives and they were bound together by an unseen force, one which neither could resist. She looked at him, his handsome face and strong hands reminding her of her father. He shared some of the same features, and his eyes had that same keenness to them, which she so loved in the man who had taken her in on that fateful day all those years ago.

  She took hold of Fraser’s hand and looked down at his birthmark, tracing the line of it along the edge and circling it gently with her finger.

  “‘Tis a strange mark and make nae mistake,” she said, turning his hand over and circling his palm with her finger.

  “Aye, and has been a curse over the years,” he replied, shaking his head.

  “I think it makes ye more interestin’ and mysterious,” she said, laughing.

  “And to others, it makes me a devil, a man to be avoided. Though how many others have a birthmark upon their body which is nae free to be seen by the world and covered over by clothes,” he said.

  “I have one upon my leg,” she said, rolling up her skirt and showing him.

  It lay just below her knee, almost a triangle, and she traced the pattern around as he looked with interest.

  “Then we are both marked as devils,” he said, laughing, and gently he placed his hand upon her knee and followed the shape around as she did the same.

  Leaning forward, he kissed her again, his arms going around her as he pulled her to him, and their passions gave way. He kissed her on the neck, and his hand moved towards her breast as her lips sought out his, but as they met, he leaped back with a start, an embarrassed look upon his face.

  “Dae ye nae like that,” she said, laughing at him, his face flushed red.

  “I … I am sorry, I just … I just got carried away, lass,” he said, standing up and straightening his tunic.

  “‘Tis alright,” she replied. “Come, let’s take a walk together. I will show ye the castle,” and she led him out of the croft onto the heathers, and together they walked towards the castle below.

  It had once been a fine building, the tower jutting up from a long farmhouse below, similar to that at Kirklinton. But now the roof was gone, and the walls stood bare, devoid of wood or wattle. The floors had collapsed, and all that remained was the upright stonework, its top open to the elements.

  “And ye were born here?” Fraser asked, stepping over what had once been the threshold.

  “Aye, and I lived here happily until I was six, and the Musgraves came and took it all away from us,” she replied, glancing around sadly, “I remember sitting on this step and watching my father cutting wood.”

  “Dae ye remember much about them?” he asked, as they wandered around the walls.

  “Very little. I remember my mother’s voice, singing to me, and I r
emember my father holding me. But that is about it, and with each passin’ year, those memories grow more faded. But I remember my grandparents. ‘Tis strange, but I remember them better than my parents. I can see their faces clearly, and at Triermain, I could see them both about their work. The mind is a funny thing. Ye must have many memories of yer parents though,” she said, turning to him.

  “Aye, I remember much about them, of course, and I miss them just as much as ye miss yers. They were good people, and they gave Duncan and I much over the years,” he said sadly.

  “Tis a ponderous day, and when we are faced with the English threat, it seems even more that we dwell on death,” she replied.

  “Death will nae visit us again, lass. I promise ye of that,” Fraser said.

  “And are ye going to fight for my father?” she asked, a note of surprise in her voice. “If he will nae let ye see me, then I doubt he will let ye fight for me.”