by Alisa Adams
But Kaithria did not trust men.
Any man.
They were riding along the winding roads in the Caithness Highlands towards Kinbrace Castle, home of Clan Gunn.
Kaithria stared up at the rolling hills of purple heather and green grasses. Beyond them were taller hills that looked jagged and flat as they reached upward to the sun. They too were covered all in green. Above them were even taller mountains, whose pointed, rocky peaks were capped in pristine, white snow.
The sun hit the landscape in such a way that the sky was full of golds and pinks. It made the green of the hills seem to glow softly in hazy hues of gold and green. The blankets of purple heather took on multiple soft hues of mystical pinks, purples, scarlet, and lavender.
Kaithria craned her neck left and right, breathing in the air as she took it all in. The landscape looked magical. Even though she felt someone was there, again, up in the hills. Watching.
A little white donkey was following amicably along behind the group of riders. It had long ears that pointed straight up. The big black horses had loved the tiny donkey from the first day that Kaithria’s friend, Lady Catriona, had rescued it from two thieves along the road. It accompanied them wherever they went now, never straying far from the big, retired, black warhorses that the women had adopted as their own.
Suddenly, the tiny thing made a loud braying sound.
“Hush, Bunny,” Kaithria said to the little female donkey.
Kaithria’s horse, who she affectionately called Dummy, looked back at their little donkey friend and made a soft nickering nose.
Kaithria tensed as Dummy suddenly looked up to the hills, his ears pricking forward.
The tiny donkey brayed again. Kaithria knew the little donkey was sounding an alarm.
For there it was again. The figure on a horse, above them, up in the hills.
She had spotted the figure off and on all morning.
And so had the donkey.
And her horse.
She shielded her face from the sun and looked again.
Nothing.
No one was there.
Ever since she had made her way to Brough Castle with the six orphans many, many months ago, she felt like she was being followed. Now that the children were safe with her friend, Swan, and her new husband, Laird Wolf McKay, she should not be fearful anymore. But she had felt the hairs on her neck prickling in warning today, for the first time in a long time.
Kaithria could see why Highlanders believed in fairies and other creatures, for surely this magical place was where you could find them. Kaithria looked around again. She took deep breaths, stilling her feelings of apprehension, for despite what she was feeling, she thought this was the most beautiful place she had ever seen.
She pushed the vision of the figure on the horse out of her mind, for it was naught but a traveler like themselves, as Lady Catriona had said the first time that Kaithria mentioned seeing someone earlier that day.
As they rode on through the day, the air was getting cooler as the mountains receded. Kaithria thought she saw the figure again, up on one of the hills. Its horse was standing still.
Kaithria swore the rider was looking down at them.
“Lady Catriona,” she called out, trying to get the attention of the others riding ahead. She turned her head and pointed in the direction of the figure, directing Cat’s attention to it.
The figure was gone.
“Kaithria, all is well,” Cat said. “There is nothing there. Ye are just used to being on yer guard.”
Cat looked at the exotic and mysterious girl who had become her closest friend. Cat had met Kaithria on a trip to Cat’s new sister-in-law’s home in the Caithness area of the Highlands. Brough Castle was on Dunnett Head, the farthest and most remote tip of Scotland. The castle had been attacked and Cat’s sister-in-law, Swan, had fled with Kaithria, another girl named Neilina, and six orphans along with Swan’s old horse master Beak. When they fled the castle Swan had met Cat’s older brother Wolfram, and the two had eventually fallen in love. When Neilina was bound and determined to return to Brough to look for her missing father, the girls had all gone with her, Cat included. She had so wanted an adventure after being sick for so long.
Now, she and Kaithria were going to her uncle Keir’s castle for a visit while Cat’s new home was being repaired and readied. She certainly could no longer live with her brother, his new wife, and their six children. Soon to be seven, since Swan was pregnant.
Uncle Keir did not seem to mind that his niece had suggested she follow him on his journey home for a visit, as well as her idea to bring her new friend Kaithria along as a chaperone.
Uncle Keir was riding well ahead of them. He was eager to be home and had picked up the pace.
Kaithria and Cat watched as Keir suddenly stopped, raising his arm for them to stop as well. They did not come any closer but stayed at a safe distance.
Kaithria tensed as she watched two riders approach the road from a field of heather. Keir was sitting on his battle-scarred horse, tall and intimidating, watching them. One hand was on the handle of his sword that hung along his kilt. His horse was alert as well, his torn and ragged ears pricking towards the two riders approaching.
Kaithria noticed that one of the riders was as large as Keir. This person rode what looked like a very large draft mule. The other person was on a small Highlander pony.
Kaithria nudged her horse closer to Cat, who was staring at the large person on the draft mule. She was biting her lower lip.
“Lady Catriona?” Kaithria asked her friend. “Do ye know those riders?”
Cat nodded her head vigorously and continued to bite her lip.
Kaithria studied the two people, then she gasped softly.
Cat looked at her friend and gave her a weak smile. “Aye, they are women, as ye may have noticed,” Cat said in response to Kaithria’s surprise.
She did not sound happy.
“That one is wearing breeks,” Kaithria said quietly in awe as she studied the one on the big mule. “She is vera large.”
“Aye, as large as me uncle, and ye’ll not find many as big as him save perhaps me brother Wolf, or Greysteil McKinnon,” Cat said unhappily.
Kaithria glanced at Cat. Her friend looked slightly fearful.
“And the other woman?” Kaithria asked. “On the pony?”
“That pony can only be King Bobby, and riding the little king is Aunt Hextilda.” Cat’s frown changed to a smile.
Kaithria turned back to look at the big draft mule and the small shaggy highlander pony. They were as odd a pair as their riders. One, a very large woman in breeks and the other a small, very frail and old-looking woman whose grey hair was in total disarray in a knot on top of her head.
Kaithria could hear fragments of their conversation. “It seems they are out looking at sheep,” she said softly as she watched and listened.
The large woman suddenly turned and pinned her eyes on Kaithria. Kaithria could not see her with the sun in her face, but she looked very stern. The woman turned to say something to Keir, then turned her mule around.
The two women rode off through the purple heather. The jaunty Highland pony was trotting double-time to keep up with the mule’s trot. The older woman on the pony was bouncing all over its back as her grey hair bobbled this way and that.
Keir looked back and waved to Kaithria and Cat. His eyes stayed on Kaithria a moment.
“There is a shorter way if we follow them,” Keir called back, “but we can stay on the road. ’Tis easier for your auld horses,” he added with a look at his niece, “and your little rabbit-donkey,” he said with a laugh in his deep, booming voice. “I’ll be riding ahead,” he called out and put his mottled brown, scarred destrier into a canter. One of the horses’ torn ears flapped up and down as he cantered away.
Kaithria looked back at Bunny to make sure she was coming along as they began walking. She tensed at a movement to the side of her vision. She frowned. There it was again.
It was not a huge woman on a big mule or a small person on a pony. It was that figure of the lone rider on the horse, far off, on a hilltop. Just watching.
“Lady Catriona, do ye see—” Kaithria started to say more, but Cat cut her off.
“Dinnae fash Kaithria, there is nothing to fear, for these are Gunn lands we are on noo! Besides, if anyone dares to come close, we shall fight them as we did at Brough,” Cat said with relish.
“Lady Catriona,” Kaithria said, “do not wish for a fight.”
“But we could—” Cat started to say hopefully.
“We end fights,” Kaithria said quietly. “We dinnae start them.”
Cat’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Then she brightened, sitting up taller. “Shall we take the shortcut, off the road? Twill be an adventure! Uncle Keir says it would be hard on the horses but I think he underestimates our old battle horses!”
“Nay, we stay on the road, ’tis safer,” Kaithria said.
Cat looked at Kaithria with a thoughtful frown. “Safer,” she sighed. “Do ye ever seek excitement? Yer life must be so boring!” she said with a huff of breath. “Ye are always so calm, so...composed...” She hesitated, but then added, “I have never seen ye laugh, or cry, or get angry.”
Kaithria looked over at her friend. Her face was serene, as usual.
Cat sighed. “Vera well then, let’s be off. We will stay on the road...to be safe.”
Cat put her heels into Old Inch’s sides, and Kaithria followed on Dummy. Her long, black cloak flowed out over Dummy’s haunches, almost blending in with his gleaming, black coat.
The horses instantly stepped into a high, dramatic trot as their knees came up to their chests.They each had incredibly long manes that fell past their shoulders that now blew out behind them.
All of that, along with long, elegantly-arched necks and forelocks hanging down past their eyes to their noses, made the big horses a sight to see.
And easily spotted.
They came to a winding river and followed the track along it for the rest of the morning as the sharp peaks with their snowy caps faded away into the mystical clouds.
Kaithria continued to look around. She was keeping her eyes open. Who is that figure on the horse? Kaithria wondered uneasily. “Is this all Gunn lands, Lady Catriona?” she asked in her calm, hushed voice, as she continued to scan the fields of heather and the hills beyond.
“Aye, it is Uncle Keir’s. All that ye see is his.The lands of Clan Gunn reach to those hills ye see there,” Cat said as she pointed north and west. She turned and looked in the other direction. “Just over those hills.” She pointed to the northeast. “ And on the other side of the forest, it becomes Keith lands,” Cat explained. “We are in Strath Ullie or the Strath of Kildonan. Badanloch is to the north and then Balbheallach, and Helmsdale on the coast. This is Abhainn Na Frithe we are following.’Tis a beautiful place. Even if me Uncle Keir were not as ridiculously handsome as all the lasses think he is, they would still be chasing him. Just as they always have, mind ye, to be married to the laird of this land.”
“Keith?” Kaithria repeated, trying to still her alarm. She had not really heard anything else that Cat had said.
“Aye, the Keiths. Mortal enemy of the Gunns. Laird Ronan is a madman, it is said. Evil scunners the Keiths are. But Uncle Keir can tell ye more than I.” Cat’s voice brightened. “Look there! Ye can see Castle Kinbrace! Up on that promontory overlooking the river, just there in the bend!” Cat smiled happily. “’Tis been a vera long time since I have visited!”
Kaithria quelled her uneasiness at being near Keith land as she studied the lovely four-story house flanked by two towers on either side. It had obviously been added on to over the centuries. It stood up high but was surrounded by nothing but flat green grasses with gentle sloping hills of purple heather and yellow gorse that gently blended up and into a copse of trees. She could hear the river as the water tumbled along, winding its way to circle tightly around Kinbrace Castle on three sides like a horse’s shoe. There were horses out grazing all around them, large and sleek and healthy. Their coats gleamed almost iridescently in the sun.
“As ye can see, Uncle Keir breeds and trains horses!” Cat said as both of their horses nickered loudly, announcing their arrival.
As Kaithria looked around she noticed that there were no perimeter walls that she could see, only the marks on the ground from where they had been. This was no longer a castle needing defense. It was a home.
Kaithria watched as ahead of them Keir Maxwell Gunn, Lord of Clyth and Kinbrace, put his scarred and mottled brown warhorse into a gallop, its torn and ragged ears pricked forward, recognizing that it was home.
When they reached the castle, Keir leaped from his horse. The tall warrior with the broad shoulders put his hands on his hips and looked all around him. His dark kilt blew slightly in the breeze as his white shirt billowed back from his broad shoulders, outlining his muscular chest. His dark, wavy hair whipped back over his ears. He wore it shorter than most men, for it was not quite touching his shoulders.
He turned to stare at the two women approaching, his eyes on the figure of Kaithria in her long, black cloak and hood. His fingers stroked the dark stubble on his jaw, as well as the small dimple there, at the center of his chin. Is she a nun or not? He had to know, for he was drawn to her. If she was a nun he had to stop this interest, for it would be unseemly, he knew.
Kaithria and Cat rode their horses up beside him.
Keir walked over to Cat and helped her off her horse with a big smile for his niece.
Then he strode over to Kaithria and looked up at her with his arms outstretched. “May I help ye down?” he asked her in a gentle, deep voice. His eyes were riveted on her golden eyes, rimmed in long, black lashes. Whenever he was near this mysterious girl he felt like lightning was thrumming through his body.
Kaithria remained silent as she leaned slightly away from him. It was barely perceptible, but Keir’s eyes narrowed, noticing her response.
Kaithria shook her head hastily, and remained on Dummernech.
“I can manage meself, milord,” came her husky response.
Keir dropped his arms. “Very well,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. He frowned at his own response. “Welcome to me home,” he said in his deep voice as he stepped back.
He watched with some chagrin as she relaxed when he moved away. He stared up at the exotic-looking woman who made his breath catch every time he saw her. Those eyes hit him every time. The feeling was like lightning, sparking through his body, stopping his heart. Or like a punch to his gut.
He scowled. He was disgusted with himself for these feelings he could not control. If she was not a nun, he would plan a full-on siege. His jaw tightened. A plan must be executed with great thought.
“May I ask how I should introduce ye?” Keir said in a soft, low voice.
Kaithria stared down at him. She glanced over and caught Catriona grinning at her.
“What are ye asking?” she said calmly.
“Me uncle wants to know if ye are a nun or not. Once and for all,” Cat said as she came over to them with a wink at her mysterious friend.
Keir looked at his mischievous niece. With a shrug of her shoulders, she walked back to her horse.
Kaithria looked back down at the huge warrior who stood there. He stood with his fists on his hips, staring at her. She watched as he reached up and rubbed at the dark stubble along his square jawline. Her eyes followed his hand as he then rubbed his thumb along that interesting cleft in his chin. It had always drawn her eye. From the very first day she had pulled him out of a bog near Brough Castle.
He stood here now, staring at her with that look of his that unsettled her. His feet were braced apart, showing powerful and very muscular legs encased in tall leather boots made for riding. No man looks as good in a kilt as Keir Maxwell Gunn, Kaithria thought. The man made her insides tremble and turn to chaos.
She did not like chaos.
; “I am no nun,” Kaithria said huskily in her soft voice.
Keir smiled devilishly at her.
Kaithria almost reeled back away from him again. This man’s smile; with his perfect white teeth, would devastate any female.
“Vera good. I hope that ye will enjoy yer stay here,” Keir said with a slight bow.
A young boy came running out of a bank of stone stables to the side of the castle.
“Lord Gunn, welcome home!” he called out as he reached for the horse’s reins.
Keir shook his head at the boy and ruffled his hair.
“I will see to me horse meself, Young Robert,” he said to the eager boy. “How is yer father? Is he well?” Keir asked after Robert, the young boy’s father.
“Aye, milord, and so happy he will be that ye are back!” He smiled up at the big warrior in awe. “Have ye had any more battles? How was Laird Wolf’s wedding? And Lord Greysteil’s wedding? Have ye had to fight any more bad mon like ye did at Brough Castle?” he asked in a rush of words.
“Och, Young Robert, let me get Morvach put up to rest with some oats and fresh water. Then I must greet me auntie properly! But I’ll be sure to find a time to talk to yer da and tell yer wee self all aboot it!” Keir said in a deep voice.
He led his horse towards the stables with the young boy running beside him, trying to keep up with the big warrior’s strides.
“Does Morvach have any new scars or injuries my lord?” the young boy asked about Keir’s horse. “I see he hasnae lost the rest of that ear!”
Keir grumbled something that could not be heard as they disappeared into the darkness of the stables. He must have said something to the young boy about the ladies, for he came running back out to where Kaithria and Cat had halted their horses in the open courtyard.
Young Robert slowed to a walk as he stared at the muscular horse, for the horse’s face had so many scars, even one that cut across one eye. The horse’s body was scarred as well, the black fur mottled and patchy from old wounds and burns. This is a warhorse, Young Robert thought in awe. One of the Big Blacks that were trained to carry a man in armor into battle, long ago. They were very rare, as no one wore armor anymore. Young Robert thought they were all gone. But here was an old one.
