A Highlander Marked by Fate: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Kirklinton Book 3)

by Kenna Kendrick

  As she approached Lochrutton, she paused, gazing over the village from the track which ran down through the trees. The bell of the kirk was ringing, echoing over the town with its ramshackle collection of crofts and farm buildings. It was a peaceful place, and Margaret pictured the Laird at work in the blacksmith’s workshop as she passed by. The blacksmith was shodding a horse, and he nodded to her as she passed, calling out a cheery greeting.

  As she came into the village, she was surprised to see several children playing by the well outside the kirk. They looked up in alarm when they saw her, for it was clear that strangers were not a usual sight in that place.

  “It’s all right, I mean you no harm,” Margaret said, smiling at them, “my name is Margaret, I am a friend of the Laird’s. Do you know him?”

  They nodded, standing silently and looking up at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

  “They are nae used to strangers, lass,” a voice from the door of the kirk said.

  Margaret turned to find an elderly priest looking out at her, a smile on his face.

  “I mean them no harm. I was just pleased to see them,” Margaret said.

  “Come now, children, greet the lass and show her yer manners,” the priest said, nodding to the children.

  The tallest of them stepped forward. She was a girl of about twelve with long black hair tied back and a grubby face. She was wearing an equally dirty dress, and held out her hand, a shy look on her face.

  “Elsa,” she said, and Margaret shook her hand.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Elsa, and are these your brothers and sisters?”

  The girl nodded and proceeded to introduce the others who were all of the same family.

  “There are others too,” the priest said, “but can I teach them anythin’ they need to know? Nay, they run wild and daenae listen,” and he laughed.

  “We dae listen, Father, but ye speak so much,” Elsa said, trying not to laugh, as she glanced at Margaret.

  “Listen to these children,” the old priest said, shaking his head, “they have nay respect,” and he wandered off muttering to himself.

  Margaret smiled at Elsa, who now seemed to trust her and beckoned her to sit with them by the well.

  “We always play here,” she said, as the other children crowded around.

  “But do you never learn anything?” Margaret asked, and the children laughed.

  “We learn well enough from the world around us,” Elsa replied, pointing up at the sky above.

  “But would you like to?” Margaret asked, and the children looked at one another.

  “Who would teach us?” one of them asked.

  “I could,” Margaret said, “I could teach you all a great deal. I could tell you the names of plants and animals, all about the stars, and stories of far off places. There is so much for you to learn if you wish to hear it,” Margaret replied.

  The children looked at one another, and a murmur of excitement went up amongst them.

  “And ye will teach us?” Elsa asked.

  “I will if I am able,” she replied, “let me tell you a story I know, it’s an exciting one. Full of adventure.”

  The children gathered around eagerly, and Margaret began to tell them a story her father told her as a child. It fascinated them, and they hung on every word until she concluded.

  “Did the prince really rescue her?” Elsa asked, wide-eyed.

  “Absolutely,” Margaret replied, pleased at having caught their attention

  She talked a while longer with the children, and they followed her back towards the blacksmith’s workshop, eager to hear more of her stories.

  “Tell us another adventure story,” one of them said.

  “Very well, do you know the story of the king who keeps the maiden locked in the tall tower? It’s very exciting,” she said, but just as she was about to begin her story, she noticed a familiar figure standing by the blacksmith’s forge.

  It was Rory, and he was watching her with interest, a smile playing across his lips. He was such a handsome man, though it caused her to blush merely thinking such a thing, and she would be eternally grateful to him for all he had done for her. He could be quiet and ponderous, but she preferred such mannerisms, and his rugged looks and jet black hair gave him the look of a noble warrior, strong and brave.

  “Look, tis’ Rory,” Elsa cried, and the children ran over to him excitedly.

  “Well now, what are all ye children doin’ with Margaret?” Rory asked.

  “She is tellin’ us stories, sir,” Elsa replied.

  “Is she now? And did ye children stop for a moment and listen? I am amazed. When Father McKinnon tries to teach ye anythin’ ye never listen,” Rory said, laughing and shaking his head.

  “Margaret is goin’ to teach us many things, she has promised to dae so,” Elsa said, turning to Margaret, who nodded.

  “I will happily teach the children everything I know,” she said, for a moment allowing herself to picture a far happier future than she had done before.

  “Well, that is very kind of ye. They will nae listen,” Rory said, laughing, as the children jumped around him excitedly.

  “Oh, I think they will. They simply need instruction and direction,” Margaret added.

  “Well, we shall see. But now, children, I must take Margaret back to Kirklinton with me,” Rory said.

  “Is she yer wife?” Elsa asked, and the other children stared up at Rory in amazement.

  But Rory only laughed again, blushing a little as he glanced at Margaret.

  “Nay, Margaret is a friend of mine. She is nae my wife. Now, away home with ye, and we shall see if Margaret might teach ye a thing or two. Some manners to begin with,” he said.

  “They are sweet children,” Margaret said, as she watched the children run off back towards the village and thinking how much she longed to remain with Rory at Kirklinton. “Are ye hear to see to a horse?”

  “Aye, one of my many jobs,” Rory replied, as the blacksmith emerged from the workshop.

  “I will have the lad bring the horse up to Kirklinton tomorrow. The beast needs new shoes and a better harness than this one,” the blacksmith said.

  “Aye, very well, but make sure the lad is swift in bringin’ the beast back, I cannae dae without a horse. Come now, Margaret. I shall walk back to Kirklinton with ye,” Rory said, and Margaret followed him up the track and onto the moorlands.

  “I do love this place. The moorlands are so beautiful, the whole landscape is,” she sighed, as they walked across the heathers.

  “Aye, but where ye come from must have been equally beautiful? Ye spoke of the woods and the dell where yer parents’ farm lay,” he said.

  She nodded, reluctant to share more of her memories, for it was inevitable that if he knew the whole truth about her, then she would be sent away immediately.

  “It … it was,” she said, “but I am glad to be here and to teach the children would be wonderful. I would feel I was repaying something of your kindness to me. There must be others hereabouts who would benefit from such instruction. I could teach them stories from the Bible, tales of history and all manner of things,” she said, still warming to the idea of instructing the local children in all that she knew, for perhaps it would be a way to escape her past and build a new and better future.

  “Where does all this knowledge come from? A simple farmer’s daughter is nae usually instructed in such ways herself, let alone able to teach,” he said, turning to her curiously.

  “I … I told you, the priest instructed me. He could see that I had talent and ability. I was a keen pupil, and I have an excellent memory,” she said, smiling at him, though wishing for no further questions.

  “And did that instruction extend to dagger throwin’ and skills with the sword?” he asked, causing her to blush.

  “Well … a woman has to be able to defend herself, does she not? My father always ensured I was proficient with a sword and able to fend off any attack upon me. It has stood me in good stead,
and thanks to that knowledge, you are here today, as is your uncle,” she replied.

  He laughed and thankfully asked no further questions, the two of them making their way towards Kirklinton across the heathers. The sun was low in the sky, and the evening was drawing in, the first stars appearing in the clear sky above. It felt chilly, and Margaret was glad of her shawl, which she wrapped tightly around her, a breeze now blowing across the heathers.

  “Tis’ a good idea to teach the children. Though I wonder if they will heed ye. I am willin’ to let ye try, but … surely that will mean that ye have decided to stay here with us a while,” Rory said, pausing, as they came to the castle gates.

  Margaret blushed, she had not thought about it that way, but of course, Rory was right. To teach the children, to find others, and see them learn and grow in knowledge would take time. But it was time she had, for where else would she go but here? In the short time she had lived at Kirklinton, it had begun to feel like home. The Elliotts were like a family to her, and she loved spending time with Rory and the others, Rory, especially for he had been such a good and loyal friend to her, a man to whom she could not help but feel attracted.

  “Yes, I suppose I have,” she replied.

  “Well then, what if I find ye a place in the castle where ye can teach the children? They could come here once a week or even twice and have their lessons. I am sure my father would welcome such a thing, and I certainly dae,” Rory said.

  Margaret could not believe this good fortune, and in her delight, she turned and threw her arms around Rory’s neck, kissing him on both cheeks.

  “Oh, how wonderful. Will you allow it? I thought you were uncertain of it back in the village,” she said, stepping back in embarrassment, as he blushed.

  “I am doubtful the children will heed ye, but if anyone can teach them, then tis’ surely ye,” he replied, “we will see to it tomorrow, and ye can begin yer preparations. A farmer’s daughter ye may be, but there is far more to ye than that,” he said, leading her inside.

  Margaret was glad that he did not question her further. So far, her story had held fast, and the truth of who she was had not yet been revealed. But was he suspicious of her? What did he think of her? It worried her to think of what he would say if he discovered the truth, the truth she tried so hard to conceal.

  But for now, Margaret was pleased. It had always been her dream to teach children to read and learn more about the world around them. She felt happy that evening as the family sat down to dine, more content than she had been in a long while, and even the unwanted glances of Niall McCall did nothing to dispel her mood.

  Perhaps I have found a place I can call home once more.

  Margaret was determined to make a new life for herself, a life she had always dreamed of, while feeling a sense of guilt at the dark secrets she was hiding.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day, Margaret began her preparations for the children’s instruction. She visited the library and pulled out several volumes from which she hoped to teach them. She would start by instructing them in the Bible and teaching them the stories essential to their faith. She would have them learn by rote or perhaps act out the scenes so that they could remember them. It was an exciting prospect and one she relished.

  For much of the morning, she examined the old dusty books, laying them side by side on the table in the library. It was a blustery day outside, and she was glad of her shawl, for the library was cold, and there was no fire kindled in the hearth. She had just opened a second Bible, looking for the story of King Solomon, when the creak of the door caused her to look up.

  She expected to find Rory there, for he had told her that he would speak to his father that day and arrange for a suitable place for the instruction to be given. There were numerous empty rooms in the castle, and he had assured her that it would be no trouble to find suitable quarters for the children. She was surprised to see not Rory, but Niall McCall, who stood with a smug expression on his face, as he entered the library and closed the door behind him.

  “Well now, lass, what are ye doin’ in here?” he asked, coming over to the table and peering down at the open books.

  “I am preparing to instruct the children. I’m checking my knowledge of the scriptures so that I know which stories to tell,” she replied.

  “Instruct the children? I daenae know why ye wish to dae that? They are only peasants,” he replied, tutting as he strode around her and began browsing the shelves.

  “I believe that all children should have the right to knowledge and education. If I can teach the children a little about the world and their faith, then I shall be happy,” she replied, but Niall only sneered.

  “Ye are very sure of yerself, Margaret, yet nay one knows who ye are. Ye say yer farm was attacked by brigands and yer parents killed? Tis’ a strange thing,” he said, shaking his head.

  He came to stand opposite her at the table, placing his hands firmly down and gazing at her intently.

  “Rory has allowed it, and I am grateful to him. The Elliotts have been very kind to me and from what I hear …” she began, and here she paused, wondering if she should continue.

  “What dae ye hear?” he snarled.

  “That you are something of a new addition to the household and that your own story is … vague,” she replied, not intimidated by this bully of a man.

  “Be very careful, lass, very careful. I have the Laird’s ear, and if ye so much as put a foot out of line then …” he began, but just then, the door opened, and Rory came bounding in.

  “Father thinks it is a good idea to …” he began, before his eyes fell on Niall.

  “I was just leavin’ now,” Niall said, scowling at Margaret, as he slunk out of the door.

  “What did he want?” Rory asked, “are ye all right?”

  “I am quite all right. The man is a bully, and I don’t think your father should trust him one bit,” Margaret said.

  Her hands shook with anger as she closed the book and turned to Rory, who looked at her with concern.

  “Did he threaten ye?” he asked, an angry look coming over his face.

  “It’s all right. You were saying that your father has agreed to my instructing the children?” she asked.

  “Aye,” Rory replied, still looking at her suspiciously, wondering if there was more to her encounter with Niall than at first appeared.

  She blushed, turning away and taking out a volume of history from the shelves.

  “I’ve decided first to teach them their Bible. It’s important that they know the stories from scripture,” she said, pointing to the open Bible before her, beautifully covered with illustrations.

  “The priest has tried already. Those children are too wayward, I daenae want ye to be disappointed if ye cannae teach them as ye wish to,” Rory said, coming to stand next to her.

  A shaft of light was coming through the window, illuminating the dust which danced in the air. It fell too upon his face, and Margaret could not help but think how handsome he appeared, his noble features and proud demeanor, unlike any man she had known before. He was so different from those she had encountered in her past, kindly but generous, strong, and fearless.

  She was glad he was at her side, a friend amidst the turmoil, a protector against the likes of Niall, who seemed to grow bolder by the day in his advances. Rory’s hand lay close to hers on the table, as he looked down at the open Bible. She imagined his touch if he moved his hand onto hers, the shiver it would send through her. Her thoughts betrayed her, and she felt her face grown red, a flush of emotion coming over her.

  “I will not be disappointed; I will try, though. Has your father permitted me to teach them? Where am I to do so?” she asked, and Rory pointed upwards.

  “Here, of course, a fire can be kindled, and the children can sit around the table. If they come,” Rory said, and Margaret smiled at him with delight.

  “Oh, yes, the library will be perfect. I can instruct them in the chapel, too, if needs be. I will co
llect them myself from the village. How wonderful,” she said, and for the first time in a long while, Margaret felt a sense of happiness, as though her life might turn out well after all.

  She and Rory made their way from the library to the great hall, where they found Isla at her spinning wheel. There was no sign of Niall or the Laird, but in the past few days, Margaret had noticed a change in the old Laird. He had seemed tired, weary, and had begun to cough.