The Highlanders: A Smitten Historical Romance Collection

by J'nell Ciesielski

“Why did we get here so early? We could have waited and come with the MacGregors.”

  “Look at the stones with me.” An eight-year-old would not understand why it was best if they did not arrive with Molly and Scott. Villagers were notorious for gossiping.

  Headstones of every shape and size covered the grassy lawn. He joined Keith at a recent grave with only a plain slate cross. “What has yer attention?”

  “I think ’tis Scott’s pa’s grave. Says R. MacGregor died just two months ago.”

  Grant nodded. “I think yer right. ’Tis around the same time as Ma.” Molly and Scott stood not twenty feet away, staring at them. In her hand was a sprig of posies and on her face, that suspicious expression again.

  She approached them. “Scott mentioned ye left earlier, but I’m surprised ye are here … in the graveyard.” She bent over and placed the flowers and sprigs of green down on the grave.

  Grant placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Come, lad, time to go inside ’n give them privacy.” They walked toward the large rectangular church and took their seats halfway up the nave. A few minutes later, Molly and Scott took seats two rows further up on the other side.

  A well-dressed gentleman came in and sat in the box seat near the front set aside for the gentry. He greeted a few of the parishioners near his seat. He was followed by several others in fine garb who sat in pews directly behind him. Must be the local laird and his household.

  Aunt Katherine slipped into the pew beside them right before the processional. “Good to see ye here.”

  The service was much like it was the previous week, and at the end, he placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder. They would observe the local protocol and leave after the gentry.

  Katherine cocked her head. “We can go now.” As they walked down the aisle, she put her arm through his. “Would ye and Keith come over for dinner today? I have a stew to share.”

  “’Tis kind of ye. Let me tell Miss MacGregor to not expect us.” After shaking the Reverend Mr. Campbell’s hand at the church door, he stepped off to the side.

  Katherine joined him. “I will go ahead. Molly is talkin with Grace Campbell and Mrs. McGuire, probably schedulin a fittin or a delivery.”

  “We will be there before long, Aunt.”

  Katherine passed Keith and Scott standing by the street. Grant walked up to them.

  Keith kicked some of the gravel. “Scott says he is goin fishin this afternoon. May I go with him?”

  “After we have dinner with Aunt Katherine.” Was Molly finished yet? The clergyman’s wife had gone. If she was conducting business with Mrs. McGuire, it did not appear the transaction was going well.

  Molly, shoulders slumped, opened the door to the cottage and walked inside. She removed her hat and Spencer and placed them on hooks. Her home, this room, was filled with a lifetime of memories. The whitewashed walls, the darkened hearth that had provided warmth and cooked meals for as long as she could remember. The oak table, half covered with her sewing materials, the curtains Ma made so long ago, and the rocking chair Pa parked himself in at the end of each day. Could they really lose it all now?

  Scott came through the door with a broad grin, peeling off his jacket. “Keith said they were eating at their aunt’s, but when he gets home, we want to go fishing.”

  Good thing Scott was completely unaware of the serious situation they faced. “I know. His brother mentioned it after church. Get yer chores done and move the peat.”

  Molly poured water into a cup, sliced bread and cheese, and put it on a plate at the clear end of the table. “This should fill ye till supper.”

  She walked into her room and closed the curtain that separated it from the main area. Tears ran down her cheeks as she removed her church gown and put on her black day dress. Could Mrs. McGuire be right? Or had the woman only heard idle gossip? Would the landlord truly evict his tenants? Nay, ’twas foolish to fret about overheard conversations. She would just keep spinning for the weavers, growing their few garden crops, and sewing for the ladies in town. There would be time enough to determine what to do next if the situation changed. Lord, please make a way for us.

  Molly returned to the main room and made some tea. Scott was no doubt rushing through his chores so he could be off to the river with Keith. ’Twas time to get back to work. Mrs. McGuire’s fitting was tomorrow, and she needed to be ready. She passed the next hour and a half making significant progress on the linen dress. Keeping her mind from wandering to circumstances out of her control was a bigger challenge.

  A rickety wagon creaked to a halt outside. Molly put down the trim fabric she was cutting and went to the window. Grant pulled a cart of wood with Scott and Keith walking alongside. She opened the door and placed her hands on her hips. “What have we here?”

  Grant smiled, wiping his hands on his pants. “Wood for yer work spot, and two helpers to carry it inside.”

  When it was stacked inside, Molly poured cups of water for them.

  “Ta.” Grant took one of them. “Katherine had Some tools ’n nails, ’n I can pick up anything else I’m needin in Agivey tomorrow.”

  Scott drank his water and poked Keith in the arm. “We need to get down to the river. Those fish are calling us, Keith.”

  Grant set a canvas bag and hammer near the wood. “Go ’n change out o yer Sunday clothes first, lad, ’n bring us back some fish.”

  The lads left, and Grant examined the alcove for his project.

  Molly smoothed loose strands of hair back from her face. “Do ye plan to start on it now? Ye can, but I will need to move the chair, lampstand, and clear the space.” Why did the room always seem so much smaller when he was in it?

  Grant stood not five feet away in silence. He had to be a foot taller, and his gaze enveloped her. Then, looking around the small room, he suddenly stepped back. “Nay … this wouldna be a good time. When the lads return, I could work on it for a while.”

  “Aye. That would be best.” Her face grew warm. “Thank ye ... meanwhile, I will clear the area.”

  He walked away, shutting the door behind him. The man rattled her. She closed her eyes and shook her head. He was a Highlander but … agh! What did she know about Highlanders but what Pa and others had said? That they were loud, boorish, arrogant, and prone to brawling and drunkenness. But Grant was none of those things. He chose not to be alone with her, to not place her in a compromising situation.

  It was five-thirty when the lads returned. She opened the door to two grinning faces holding several trout. “Looks like ye both have some work to do if we are to enjoy them for supper.”

  Grant walked from the pasture toward them. “What a catch.” The smile on his face warmed her. “I can get started if ’tis a good time for ye, but if not …”

  “’Tis fine. The area is ready now.” She stepped back as he came through the door. “If ye need anything …”

  “Nay, this will allow me to get started ’n figure what else for ye I’m needin. Then I can work on it when I get back from Agivey tomorrow.” He carefully measured the space, then moved an oak tabletop.

  She wouldn’t hover while he worked. Her time was better spent preparing for supper. Perhaps, while he worked in the cottage, she would grow more accustomed to his presence and feel less self-conscious. She looked out the window. The lads were coming around to the side with the fish, all gutted and ready to cook. If the landlord turned them out, it meant the Cummings would also be without shelter … and possibly out of her and Scott’s lives.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE NEXT SUNDAY, MOLLY walked with him to Katherine’s cottage for dinner with the lads following behind. Once inside, Molly wrapped her shawl tight around her shoulders. At least he could help to provide warmth for her body if not her heart. “I’ll get more peat blocks from outside. Are yer summers usually this cool ’n overcast?”

  “Nay,” Katherine answered. “’Tis much cooler this year, and ’tis affecting the crops.”

  Grant patted his stomach. “The herrin was ta
sty and the boxty outstandin. Ye hae been so kind. ’Tis there anythin I can do to help ye, Aunt?”

  “Nay, but lads, ye could clean up the garden. Pull the weeds and the dead plants. With the foul weather, ’tis not producin. Find the crate out back for the waste.”

  Keith and Scott left as Molly cleared the dishes from the table. “My garden ’tis no better, and word is most of the local crops, including flax, are doing poorly. ’Tis no wonder folks gossip about the landlord making changes.”

  Katherine poured them tea. “I can wash the dishes later. Come on back, lass, and sit with us.” Katherine smiled at Grant. “I saw the way ye fixed up the table and shelves for Molly. ’Tis grand.”

  Molly returned to the table, sat and took a sip of tea. “Aye. And, as ye noticed, I’ve already filled every space. I cannot think why we never made better use of that nook.” Her eyes locked with his. “’Twas verra kind of ye to do that.”

  Her appreciation and smile warmed his heart. “Ye needed it ... Katherine had the materials, ’n I could build it.” He could hardly take his eyes off her.

  Smoothing back a lock of her rose-gold hair, Molly’s lips parted as she stared back at him.

  Best look at somethin else before he made a fool of himself.

  Katherine glanced back and forth between them. “Grace was delighted with her new gown. And the dress yer makin for Mrs. McGuire is beautiful. I’m sure she’s pleased.”

  Molly folded her hands and placed them on her lap. “She seemed content with it when she had her fitting last week. ’Tis almost finished.”

  Katherine poured them each more tea. “So why the anxious look on yer face, lass?”

  “I can hardly utter the words.” She smoothed the tablecloth with her fingertips. “Mrs. McGuire hinted, more than once, that the landlord has voiced making changes. With the potato tubers rotting and the failing flax crop, he may soon be evicting his tenants. Ye knows people at the manse, Katherine, and ye are always quick to hear what goes on in town. Is it true?”

  Katherine’s brows raised and she glanced first at him then at Molly. “I have heard the same … and from more than one source.”

  A knot formed in Grant’s stomach. The lass was clearly in distress. Clearances … evictions he knew only too well. Just when things seemed to be going well—it would mean Keith and he would need to find another dwelling. But what would Molly and Scott do? Where would they go?

  Molly’s eyes grew moist. “What are we to do if that comes about?”

  Katherine rubbed her fingertips around the rim of her cup. “Perhaps ’tis time for ye to make a change, lass. Yer brother is in America. Write to Ewan. I’m sure he would help ye and Scott make a new beginnin.”

  “Nay. Just because he took it in his head to go across an ocean to live amongst our enemies doesn’t mean I’m so inclined.” Molly stood and smoothed her skirt.

  Katherine shook her head. Her son was in America. Molly’s remark likely stung.

  The lass paced back and forth. “I’m sorry. I know Gavin lives in Virginia and I meant no offense. But we have fought two wars with the Americans. Why would we go there? And where would we find the wherewithal? How would I care for Scott and myself?”

  Grant finished his tea. “Ma said Gavin was doing well, and that many Scots have resettled in the Shenandoah Valley. Might ye join him there, Katherine?”

  Katherine gathered the cups. “Aye, I’m thinkin I may. I’m sturdy and but forty-seven. Gavin and Lorna have a farm north of the village of Lexington. ’Twould be nice to know my grandchildren. He said makin that move was the best decision he ever made.” Katherine gazed tenderly at Molly. “Ewan is in Philadelphia, a big city. Surely he could help ye find work there as a seamstress and help ye and Scott.”

  Molly shook her head. “Nay, I might go to Coleraine, ’tis not that far. Or some other large village to find employment. Now let me help ye wash the dishes.” She placed the soiled dishes in the basin. “Then I need to get back to work.”

  How could he ease her distress? He joined her. “I can help Katherine with the dishes. Ye need to finish Mrs. McGuire’s dress. I will bring the lads back with me.”

  She smiled at him and shook her head. “Seems I’m indebted to ye again.” The lass was in turmoil but how to further aid her escaped him.

  Molly wiped her hands and hugged Katherine. “I know ye are just trying to help us. I’m just … confused and need some time to figure it out. We will find a way.”

  “I know yer uncertain about the future, and I will be prayin for ye. I know God will direct yer path,” Katherine said.

  “I hope so.” Molly glanced his way, then left.

  He took a wet dish from the basin and passed it to Katherine. “The lass sure has definite opinions. It appears that Highlanders are not the only folks she finds questionable.”

  “I warned ye.” Katherine stacked the clean dishes. “Molly has a good heart. She is a strong and capable woman, but I think she’s frightened. A couple of local lads perished in a battle in a bay near Virginia a few years back.” Katherine placed her hand on his arm. “I’m not blind. Seems to me, there is something going on between ye two.”

  “Hmm.” There was something going on, but he suspected it was all on his part. Was he that obvious?

  Molly sat at the table Grant had made and picked up the creamy border to sew on Mrs. McGuire’s gown. What was Katherine thinking, suggesting she and Scott go to America? Would she really move to Virginia? What a void her absence would leave in their lives. That Katherine had heard the chatter of evictions only made it seem more likely. If she and Scott were evicted and moved to Coleraine, they would be without friends like Katherine—and the Cummings. She sighed. No denying it, Grant and Keith Cummings had grown on her in the weeks they had lived here.

  The shine on the oak tabletop caught her eye when she reached for her shears. Building the table might seem inconsequential to some folks, but his thoughtfulness and generosity were unexpected. Having him in the cottage while he constructed it had not been at all unpleasant either.

  Scott came through the door. “Ye left Miss Katherine’s without saying so.” He walked up to her and rubbed his hand along the top of the new table. “’Tis good to have yer own space and nice of Mr. Cummings to build it for ye.”

  “Aye, ’twas. And it ’twas nice of ye to help Miss Katherine in her garden.”

  His eyes widened. “I never saw it looking so poorly before. The root plants are failing.”

  “Go check ours. ’Tis the cold and wet that threatens the potatoes and turnips. If yer hankering to pull the weeds and clear out the waste, I would have time to make a pudding.” She winked at him.

  “A half hour, and no more!” He rolled his eyes.

  She blew him a kiss. “Ta. Did Keith and Mr. Cummings come back with ye?”

  “Aye. They went out to the pasture to see to the horses.”

  Scott left, and she returned to her hemming. For the first time that day, she relaxed. Sunday services, a dinner with friends, and the gift of this table, all good reasons to be thankful. Fretting over the future was fruitless. She had been dwelling on the wrong things. Katherine obviously enjoyed having her nephews around. She surely wouldn’t want to leave them since they had come so far to be with her. And they had made life more interesting for Katherine—and for them also. Aye, the Cummings arrival in Aghadowey may very well prove to have been providential.

  CHAPTER 12

  MOLLY FINISHED PULLING THE last of the rotten potatoes. It was already the end of June. Was there any hope for the rest of the crop? The flax field with its sparse growth appeared to be a loss. She removed her gloves and walked around the front of the cottage. Séamus Macaulay was approaching. About time he came for his payment. ’Twould be good to be done with it ... and him.

  “Good to see ye, Molly.” He tipped his cap at her, and she responded with a curtsy.

  “I have yer payment inside.” She opened the door, walked to the hearth, and pulled notes from the
clay jar.

  Séamus stood, cap in hand, by the dining table. “I regret being so harsh with ye when we last spoke. I was just concerned about yer well-being with having strangers boarding so close by.”

  “No harm done, Séamus.” When she handed him the payment, he took her hand, and she yanked it back.

  “Word is that next week the estate manager will be delivering eviction notices. What will you do?”

  “I’m not certain yet, possibly go to Coleraine, and find work there.”

  “Ye do not need to leave Aghadowey. I live not fifteen minutes away. Marry me and ye can continue with yer sewing and ye and the lad can have a fit home.”

  Why had he not believed her before when she refused him? “Nay, I appreciate yer asking, but I’m not inclined.”

  “Is it the Highlander?”

  “Nay, ’tis no one.”

  Séamus took a step toward her, and she backed up two. He followed. “I care for ye and will be a good husband to ye.”

  She should have moved to the side instead of backing herself into the kitchen alcove. He reached for her arms, drew her close, and just as he leaned in for a kiss, she ducked her head. “Let go of me, Séamus, and leave!”

  Scott and Keith were in the doorway, eyes wide as saucers. Scott ran to Séamus. “Take yer hands off my sister.”

  Red-faced, Seamus pushed her away. “I’m leaving. Ye will be sorry ye turned me down when ye come to yer senses.” He picked up his cap and stormed out the door.

  “Did he hurt ye?”

  “Nay, not at all. Mr. Macaulay has been paid for the funeral, and I dinna think he will trouble us anymore.” She smoothed her hair back. “How was yer time at Miss Katherine’s? Did ye learn much?” Best to get them all thinking on something other than what just occurred. She poured them each a cup of water and put a plate of ginger biscuits on the table.

  Keith took one. “Aunt Katherine got a visit from the landlord’s man. He gave her a paper ’n I could tell she was upset, even though she said ’twas nothing to worry about.” He bit into the biscuit. “Tasty.”