by Barbara Bard
Isla began to laugh as she saw the picture being painted in front of her. Scottish women were a forced to be reckoned with. There was no doubt about that. If Scotsmen were able to attribute a significant amount of their brawn and strength to members of their lineage—Scottish mothers were undoubtedly the nexus of where they drew their strength.
“Me mother was much the same,” she said, smiling fondly at the memories. “She was nae a woman to be trifled with.”
The bucking of a horse rang out from behind them. Isla and Finlay turned their heads and saw Denholm’ approaching them from the left. “I overheard talks of mother being carried through the wind.”
Isla rolled her eyes. “Denholm,” she said to Finlay, “has a knack for eavesdropping. It’s an unfortunate defect that has been with him since birth.”
Denholm showcased a devious smile and held up a finger. “Aye, but it has been one that has served in our best interests. There hae been several occasions where my penchant for being able to overhear a conversation have played out in me favor.”
“Aye,” young Gavina added. “For instance, Denholm overheard the lady folk of the clan talking about Finlay Baird’s broad chest when his wounds were being tended tae.”
“Gavina,” Isla said, turning around on her mount and shooting her a look. Denholm, clutching onto Gavina with one of his meaty hands, hollered a belly laugh that carried through the valley as Finlay joined in.
“It’s true!” Gavina said. “Ms. Kelly said that ‘he looked like he could be better mounted than most of the horses in our caravan.’”
Denholm began laughing hard, to the point that he nearly fell off his horse, as Isla began to scold her sister.
“It’s quite all right,” Finlay said, waving off Isla. “She is only a curious child. According tae me family, I was the same.”
“That I believe, Finlay Baird. Ye seem to have a penchant for sticking yer nose where it dinnae belong.”
Gavina crooked a finger. “Careful, Finlay Baird! Sticking yer nose where it dinnae belong can cause all sorts of trouble.”
Finlay smiled and leaned in towards Gavina, a bashful smile forming as she somewhat buried herself in Denholm’ chest. “Ye are quite intelligent, Ms. Gavina. Ye will grow tae be quite the formidable woman.”
“Believe me,” Isla added, “she is wise beyond her years.”
A dutiful nod from Gavina. “Aye. Most certainly I am!”
Finlay sighed, for once finding a moment of alleviation. “I think I’m growing fond of this clan.”
Isla felt a warm sensation rush into her cheeks. She herself was starting to feel a kindling fire in the first stages of being lit rising from the pit of her stomach and slowly warming a heart she thought would be forever covered by an icy layer of frost. Like Finlay—she was starting to grow fond of him as well.
But then she felt a tug at her heart, brought forth by dire memories of the loved ones that she lost. Isla had invested so much of her heart to so many people that were no longer among the living that she felt she had nothing left to give. Whatever fragments of affection she did still possess were reserved for Denholm and Gavina. Nae, she thought. Ye are entertaining notions that cannae be indulged. Her eyes drifted and landed on Finlay’s rugged complexion. This man is an ally, nothing more. This will be a relationship built on survival, nothing more. Once we are free of the Sassenach we will go our separate ways.
Lifting her head high, Isla said nothing more. Finlay could sense that she was once again reserving herself and embraced the silence as Isla held the intention of keeping this a relationship forged and defined solely by survival. But somewhere deep down inside of her, a morsel of Isla knew that she was fooling herself.
Chapter 7
The caravan stopped in the middle of a dip in the valley as the sun was setting in the east. A weariness hung over most of those in the clan, with Finlay, Denholm, and Isla still holding onto a significant amount of energy—eager to continue their trek as far away as they could from the Sassenach. Time was of the essence. Their plight to outrun Lord Henry growing more dire as time dragged on.
“Denholm,” Isla said as she slid off of her saddle, “grab my two men. We need tae scout the area. This territory is unfamiliar.”
“Aye,” Denholm said. “Take a moment tae rest, sister. We still have a long way tae travel.”
Isla looked to Gavina, her body hanging limp in Denholm’ arms as she rested her fatigued and sleep-saturated head against his shoulder. Denholm carefully handed Gavina over to Isla and dismounted his horse, his eyes scanning the horizon behind them for any signs of approaching noblemen.
“How are yer wounds?” Isla inquired, pointing to Finlay’s chest.
He nodded. “Aye. They are healing well.”
“I’d be happy tae take a look, only if ye wish.”
Finlay hid a smirk, knowing full well that the woman who had tended to him during his recovery was more than well equipped to check on the progress of his healing over Isla. He could not help but think that Isla had ulterior motives in mind with her proposal, but was nonetheless intrigued and excited by the fact that she was attempting to get him behind closed doors. “Aye,” he said. “That would be helpful.”
One of the women came up to Isla and offered to take Gavina to join the rest of the travel-weary children yearning for slumber. Isla handed over Gavina after gently placing a kiss on her forehead, Gavina placing her head comfortably in the woman’s bosom as they walked away. For a moment, Isla found herself projecting her hopes—and her fears—onto her youngest sibling.
“Would ye care tae take a walk?” Finlay inquired.
Isla gave the subtlest of nods as she lingered toward her clan, everyone dismounting and setting up camp as she took note of the tall mountain flanking them on both sides, the dim golden glow of the sun cutting through a peak and painting the entire valley with a rich hue that only God himself could concoct.
Finlay came up beside Isla, mesmerized by the display of beauty in front of them and seeing golden rays of light adding a glow to her already stunning and encapsulating features. “It’s quite bonnie,” Finlay remarked, hoping that Isla would think he was taking notice of the surrounding scenery when, in fact, he was speaking of her own beauty.
“It is,” Isla said, for once appreciating the land that she was fighting to protect.
“Me father met me mother not fae from this place. He was fleeing from a nobleman who was trying tae wed me mother.”
Isla turned her head. “Lord Henry is attempting tae do the same with me. Part of me thinks that I have endangered me people due tae his infatuation.”
“Ye cannot blame yerself for that madman’s intentions.”
“It still does not take away the danger that currently faces them.”
“I do nae proceed tae tell ye how tae go aboot leading yer people, but I can tell ye that dwelling on the elements that ye cannae control will only lead to bouts of madness. Trust me. It happened tae me brother. It leads tae mistakes and mistakes can end up costing lives.”
Isla turned on her heel, her arms crossed and her defenses somewhat lowered as she said: “How did Lord Henry end up tracking down yer clan? Ye do nae have to tell me if ye don’t want tae.”
“Like I said: mistakes were made. Me clan thought we could confront Lord Henry and his legion head on. We mounted an assault on his camps in an attempt to dwindle down his numbers. Obviously, we were mistaken.” He sighed, hands on his hips as the last vestiges of light began to recede behind the mountains. “Lord Henry, as well as the rest of the Sassenach, are attempting tae take over every inch of Scotland at whatever cost necessary.”
“Any Scotsman with breath in their bodies are aware of this.”
Finlay held up a finger. “Aye, but there is an element to Lord Henry’s approach that leaves him with a disadvantage. Me brother learned of this after countless interactions with his men—his arrogance. Lord Henry is a fool. He is not a man. His sole purpose is tae pillage these lands to satisfy
his urges.”
“Again, Finlay Baird, this is the plight of all of the Sassenach. Their greed drives them. They care aboot nothing but the expanse of their empire at all costs.”
“The problem is that Lord Henry’s father, Earl Simon, is one of the most diplomatic and intelligent men to have infiltrated these lands. His son is a disease, a court jester with an unquenchable lust and appetite for gluttony that is slowly driving Simon to the brink. There is only so long that Henry can continue with his campaign before Simon sends him away. Or worse.”
Isla absorbed the new knowledge as a chill licked at the back of her neck. She began rubbing the back of her neck, warming her goosed skin and pressing together the cleavage in front of her, the milky and soft quality of her skin sending a flutter through Finlay’s body and reminding him of how long it had been since he last felt the touch of a woman. “Ye are saying,” Isla said, “that if Henry continues down the path, he is going that it will ultimately lead tae his own destruction.”
Finlay nodded. “Aye. One can only hope that it happens soon.”
“Ye are implying that there may be a method tae facilitate this. Ye are saying that ye think that there may be a way to…push Henry in the direction of making a foolish mistake.”
“Aye. But what that looks like, I do not know.”
Denholm approached from the rear, the majority of the camp now set up near a creek bed as two of them began kindling a fire to prepare a meal for the clan. “I have two men headed toward the east,” he said. “They will stay on the outskirts of the camp to keep an eye out for any signs of the Sassenach. Gavina has also been put down. She is resting with the rest of the children.”
Isla nodded ahead of her, to the west, toward a rise in the terrain that dipped sharply down about two hundred yards away. “What is on the other side, Denholm?”
“I cannot say, sister. I am willing tae take another man and look.”
Isla’s eyes then turned up to Finlay, a sly smile forming as she uncrossed her arms, turned toward her steed and said: “I believe that Finlay Baird and I are more than able to handle this. Are we not, Finlay?”
Finlay returned the smile. “Lead the way, me Lady.”
The hoof beats of Finlay and Isla’s horses pounded in rhythm against the terrain. Night had fallen, and the twinkle of the stars overhead, and the moon centered high in the sky offered a cascade of silver illumination throughout the land.
“Oh, Finlay Baird,” Isla taunted, her horse a few yards ahead of his. “I thought you were an able-bodied rider!”
Finlay shook his head, the dip in the terrain leading toward the unknown location on the other side straight ahead of them. He played into Isla’s taunts, bucked his horse, and starting racing Isla towards the decline in the terrain.
The two of them, though they weren’t aware of it, were smiling. In many ways it felt like the early stages of courtship, two young people of the Scottish Highlands indulging in nothing more than each other’s company and temporarily escaping from the harsh realities that lived with them on a day-to-day basis.
Finlay was hot on Isla’s heels as he struggled to gain on her. There was no showmanship, no attempt to let her think she was besting him. The fact of the matter was the Isla was, as many people had stated it before, a formidable opponent.
They descended through the dip in the terrain, the road beneath them narrowing and snaking down adjacent to the creek bed that started back at the encampment and slowly began to expand into a river that split in three directions and infiltrated the base of the mountains off to the right. Once Finlay and Isla emerged into the riverbed, they came to a halt and found themselves staring in wide-eyed amazement at one of the most serene and pristine sights they had ever seen in the Scottish Highlands—an open expanse made of the greenest grass licked by the wind and shimmering under the bright moon above.
“I have never laid eyes on this before,” Isla said, smiling with glee, feeling much like she did back when she was a wide-eyed youth in the vein of her sister, Gavina.
Finlay nodded. “Aye. Neither have I.”
They scanned around and saw the mountains ascended to nearly impossible peaks; the waters near there crystal-clear and churning with a pleasant rhythm. It was paradise, their own virtual Garden of Eden, untainted by the company of others or the despicable Sassenach.
Finlay gestured toward the east. “This area of land seems to stretch on for some distance, me Lady. Miles, it seems.”
Isla perched forward on her saddle. “If memory serves, I believe this land tae stretch all the way towards the coastline. I must consult with Denholm in regard to our route. This appears tae serve as a shorter route to our final destination.”
“Where is that, me Lady?”
“Father called it ‘salvation.’ The area of land on the map has nay a distinct name. It is a part of land untainted by the Sassenach, ripe with Highlanders like us and other clans that outnumber men like Lord Henry ten to one.”
The two shared the silence, the trickling of the river a pleasant distraction as they gazed up at the stars and felt their tensions and worries slipping away.
“Should we return, me Lady?” Finlay inquired.
Isla, still beaming, shook her head. “Naw. Nae noo…I want to stay in this place fer a moment.” She dismounted her horse, moving toward the water as Finlay followed suit. They strolled up the right flank of the river, Finlay with one hand resting on the grip of his sword as he kept an eye out for another suspicious activity or men in chainmail.
“Ye said ye were engaged to be married,” Finlay said. “Aye?”
A nod. “Aye. He was a good man. He paid with his life for standing up to Lord Henry on me behalf. Had it nae been for him, I might hae been slaughtered by Lord Henry’s hand some time ago.” She shook her head. “I cannae help but think of how things may have turned out if he were still alive.”
“Ye cannot focus on what could or should have happened, me Lady. It is best to live in the present.”
“Ye are filled tae the brim with advice, aren’t you, Finlay Baird?”
A shrug. “One or two good words of wisdom trickled down from my mother’s lips.”
Isla took a step toward Finlay. “I feel they might have made ye arrogant.”
Finlay took a step toward Isla. “I like to think that they’ve kept me alive.”
Isla once more felt the tug in the pit of her stomach, that indefinable feeling that drew her toward the ruggedly handsome Highlander in front of her. What is it? she pondered as she stared into his steel-blue eyes, shimmering and glinting like the broadsword stuffed into his sheath. Why can’t I explain what it is that I am feeling?
“What is it, me Lady?” Finlay inquired after a few moments of silence had passed.
Isla waved him off. “It is nothing more than fatigue,” she stated. “I have endured more than me fair share of adventure in some time.”
Finlay’s heart began beating faster, the two of them moving closer together. Why can’t I help this? he thought. Why can’t I stay away from this woman?
The indefinable magnetism that drew them together was intensifying, their primal urges and desires causing their skin to flush and their breathing to increase in intensity. Neither could help it. The yearning that now stirred inside the both of them was beginning to take hold and forcing them closer together despite their internal monologues and debates.
“Ye are trembling,” Finlay said, reaching out and slowly taking Isla hand into his.
For Isla, it felt like she was under some kind of spell, as if she had partaken in one of the potions or tonics crafted by one of the villagers to help soothe pain or induce sleep. She couldn’t explain it, the tingling sensation running through her body causing her to shudder from the crown of her head all the way down between her legs.
Nay, Isla thought. I have people to lead. I cannae do this!
Isla broke free and turned back toward her horse. “Come, Finlay Baird,” she said. “We must return tae camp.”
>
Finlay, slowing his breathing and shaking himself out of his trance, corrected his posture, drew a deep breath, and said: “As ye wish, me Lady.”
The two then rode back to the camp in silence, both of them maintaining a respectable distance from one another as they tried to stave off the feelings and urges that, deep down, both of them knew would inevitably bring them together.
It was only a matter of time.
Chapter 8
Several hours had passed, and the encampment en-route to their salvation in the Scottish Highlands were allowing themselves a brief reprieve to indulge in the vices that took the edge off of living. Most of the clan was gathered around a roaring fire in the center of the camp, nearly every grown man and woman in attendance sharing mugs of ale and spiced meats that sizzled on the pans positioned in the center of the flames. The moon hung high in the sky, and those who were fortunate enough to have a significant other were closely huddled together and whispering promises into each other’s ears of the things they planned on doing once they slipped away back into their tents.
