He had allowed fear to grip him twice before, once in his first battle. It had cost the lives of a few good men and friends. The second time happened shortly after he had assumed the role of laird. His father’s illness prevented him from continuing in that role and he seemed ready to relinquish the responsibilities to his eldest son.
Kendrick always knew he would eventually bear that mantle. Unfortunately, many calamities befell him in those early years as laird. The clan suffered significant financial losses from the Darien Scheme, which sought to establish a Scottish colony in Panama. Kendrick had been the one to suggest they invest their reserves in that scheme, even before he’d become laird. There had been poor crop returns for several years, causing food shortages throughout the land. In addition, within a few months of becoming laird, Kendrick’s young wife and son died following the bairn’s birth. After that event, overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy, he seemed to lose his mind for a period.
For weeks at a time, he had rambled through the hills, drinking to excess, and wenching when the opportunity presented itself. No matter how far he roamed, he never found the oblivion he sought, or a release from his sense of failure. Reivers attacked the borders of his lands, stealing cattle the clan could ill afford to lose. Men were injured or lost, perhaps due to the lack of his direction and leadership.
His father had tried to manage in his absence, but his health deteriorated even further, and Lorne had not yet returned from university. He had been of little use to himself, much less to his clan and kin. Finally, Rabbie and Struan found him in the hills and engaged him in fierce hand-to-hand beatings. He withstood the worst of their lashings, and they refused to leave him alone. Either he would return to his home, clan, and responsibilities, or they swore to surrender their own lives in their effort to bring him to heel.
Fear and love. Two emotions no warrior could allow to reign; a lesson Kendrick took to heart once he had recovered his sense of self. From then on, he determined never to allow himself to succumb to the weakening sentiments of fear or love again. He had long buried his heart and emotions behind steel barriers.
Yet, when they had returned and discovered Andra gone, his anger burned like a hot brand in his gut. The crazy, mad woman, who seemed to fall out of the sky into their path, tested every reserve of patience he possessed. Intriguing, secretive, maddeningly obtuse, she definitely fired his loins, which disturbed him no end. He strived to convince himself the woman presented nothing more than a troubling puzzle to solve, but he failed.
When he’d raced over that hill, nostrils burning with the smell of fire, the sound of battle-crazed men in the distance, the screams of women rending the early dawn air, fear had gripped him like a vice. Then he saw her, head snapping around wildly in the smoky half-light, hair flying out in a tangled mess, with two children clinging to her limbs. He could have wept with relief and he never wept.
“Laird?” Rabbie moved to take Andra and softened his voice, “Laird?”
Rabbie never addressed him by the honorific title “laird” unless upset with him or trying to prove a point. Rabbie was Kendrick’s second cousin from his father’s side but as close to him as he and his brother Lorne. In fact, no one came closer in friendship and esteem, with Struan a close third.
Kendrick swung Andra into his arms pressing her limp body against his chest. “Nae cousin, nae, I’ll tend to her myself. You see to the bairns and have Struan tend the horses.”
He could feel their astonished faces follow him as he walked to the pool at the back of the cave. He sat on the edge of the rocks thinking how only a day ago she had been standing in this exact spot disrobing in front of him, enticing him with her every move. He ripped a piece of cloth off the bottom of his shirt and wiped her face with cool water. When she started to come around, she struggled against him. He held both wrists in one hand and pulled her tight against him.
“Calm yourself, lass; it’s over now, you’re safe.” He kept his voice soothing and low.
Eyes venomous with anger glared at him. “Safe! Safe! Safe from whom? Safe from those murdering men, safe from you?” she spit out.
Grinding his teeth, the muscles in his jaw grew almost painful as he reined in his temper. He battled between the urge to throttle her or pull her into a fierce, protective embrace. Throttle won or at least a verbal throttling.
“Listen, Andra, and listen well. I am not a violent man unless necessary, but those are my men. I am their laird. They must trust me to lead them into battle, through the verra gates of hell when required. I will not allow any lass, no matter how comely or distressed she appears, to interfere with my authority or the safety my men.”
Her mouth dropped open. Did she find him shocking? Good. She needed a shock.
“I expect absolute obedience from my people and my men. Do not disobey me again. And never attempt to knock me down or strike me for you will not win and only injure yourself. I gave you my word we’d protect you despite the fact that your story reeks of perfidy. You will not be endangering everyone with your foolish recklessness. When I give you an order, you will follow it.”
She blinked at him her mouth agape. “I am not your property, nor one of your men to jump and obey your every command!” she seethed through her teeth, tugging valiantly against his grip.
“Now there you’re wrong, Andra. You are my property until I say otherwise. If you dinnae start answering my questions, or you run off again, I will tie you up until we reach my castle. If you give me your word, which I am not sure is worth anything, I will refrain from tying you up tonight. Those poor bairns have just witnessed the murder of their kith and kin. They could use a woman’s gentling.” His arms tightened around her rather than loosened.
She flashed a furious scowl at him. “What the hell do you think happened here? I woke, I smelled smoke, and no one was here. It seemed reasonable to investigate. And those bairns might not have escaped without my help.”
They locked eyes in another silent battle of wills. She blinked up at him, her body still shaking under his grip, but rather than show deference, she kept her chin thrust in defiance. He could see he’d accomplish nothing further tonight and needed to step away from her heat and his own intemperate mood. He stood, gently but firmly set her on her feet, and strolled over to his men.
* * *
Well, it would seem this fight was over. Andra didn’t know whether to cry or kick the man in his finely muscled, departing derriere. “Urrr, men!” she hissed.
But his words slipped back into her head: “I will not allow a lass, no matter how comely…” So, he thought her comely—distressed (which was true), and accused her of duplicity all in one breath. Okay, she’d grant he thought her duplicitous or evasive, but she struggled with a problem he couldn’t even fathom. Adrenaline still pumped through her blood from fear, exhaustion, and a weird exhilaration from the feel of his strong arms around her. Well, that would never do.
She stamped her foot, and with stumbling steps walked to where Rabbie sat on a pallet by the fire, giving the children something to drink. A tartan plaid draped across their small shoulders, and he spoke to them in soothing tones.
He looked up with a crooked half smile. “Are you well m’lady?”
She tilted her head and studied him for a moment. “Well enough. How are the children?”
“Frightened, but calming down. You did a brave thing helping them to escape.”
“Some people don’t share your opinion.” She dipped her chin toward the bairns, “Do they speak English?”
“Dinnae worry, they will understand you, but they are reluctant to speak.” He nodded his head, and walked to join the men seated beside Lorne, talking in low voices.
Andra sat and wiped the children’s faces with a cool, wet cloth. She held out her arms to the lad, and he went to her easily. The boy still whimpered a bit, and the girl stared off into space, her face a frozen mask. Andra cradled the lad’s head against her chest, wrapped the other arm around the girl, and began to sin
g “All The Pretty Little Horses.”
The men were a wall of silence behind her, even their movements had ceased. Andra blocked them from her mind and finished the song while rocking the children held in her arms. Her eyes closed, and tears streamed down her face. She sought to erase the horrors of this night and guide them all to restful sleep with the soothing melody.
Chapter Nine
Andra woke with a start to sounds of movement in the cave. Each time she woke, she experienced a moment where she thought everything had been a terrible, dreadful dream. Then reality smashed a fist into her consciousness; she remained in another time and place. The realization came in the form of children snuggled close against her. The girl’s hand draped protectively on the boy’s back. Trying not to disturb their sleep, she moved away slowly.
As she walked toward the exit, Lorne entered the cave, one arm across Struan’s shoulder with Struan’s burly strength supporting his weight. He walked with agonizingly slow steps, but at least he walked.
Outside the sky remained dark. A faint tinge of violet suggested the approach of dawn. When she started to pass the men, Struan grunted and stopped her.
“Where do you think you be go’n?”
A frustrated groan escaped her lips. “A moment of privacy is all I need.”
“Then I’ll be accompanying you. Just let me settle Lorne.” His voice commanding and rough, as though he’d swallowed a mouth full of gravel.
“Dinnae scare the lass with all that bluster.” Lorne looked at Andra, a smile on his face. “Best let him stand guard, there’s nae tell’en who may be aboot. Besides, Struan is a wee bit cranky in the morning.”
“Seems to me he’s always cranky,” Andra huffed, but she waited for him by the cave’s entrance.
* * *
Kendrick and Rabbie were not present. Andra decided not to inquire after them and busied herself with the care of the children. Relinquishing a pack of her strong breakfast tea and another packet of honey, which she opened away from prying eyes, she prepared to break their fast. Everyone enjoyed the honeyed tea, even Lorne and Struan, who took theirs with a dram or two of whisky.
“Well now, finally something worthwhile from that there witch’s satchel of yers,” Struan commented. Though he goaded her with a slight hint of humor, an accusatory expression remained on his face. A retort rose to her lips, but then she thought it best to avoid confrontation and ignored him.
The children still wore their dirty, torn night shifts, were barefooted and covered in cuts and scratches from their escape through the night. Andra convinced them to relinquish their clothes for washing in exchange for warm plaids.
After she had thoroughly examined and cleaned their injuries, Andra’s last two pairs of clean, dry socks adorned their feet. “What dae ye call these again?” asked Kyle, an amber-eyed, freckle faced charmer with hair the color of autumn leaves. He wriggled his toes, endlessly fascinated with the snugness of the socks several sizes too large, but they kept his feet warm and dry.
“They are called socks where I come from.”
The boy assessed her with a frown on his forehead. “Ye say yer nae a Sassenach but ye talk funny, like a Sassenach but nae the same.”
“Oh, have you talked to many Sassenachs, then?” she chided him lightly.
“Nae, but ye dinnae speak like a proper Scots lady.” He sighed, looking at her with penetrating eyes for one so young.
“Well, I am Scots through and through, though I have been away for a verra long time. I haven’t been in Scotland since I was a verra wee bairn and have nae memory of it.” Andra added a few Scottish terms to put the children at ease.
The girl, Senga, slender and quiet, with hair the same rich color as her brother’s and eyes like dark, round chocolate drops, had not said a word to her. Andra worried about Senga’s silence, but she would not push her to speak before she was ready.
The children were both far too thin with dark circles under haunted eyes. Wherever Andra went, Senga meekly followed head down, arms limp at her sides, but she would not speak or look directly at anyone other than her brother.
Once thoroughly washed, the many cuts and scratches tended, with warm socks on her feet and one of Andra’s long knit shirts pulled over the girl’s slender frame, Andra wrapped her in a warm dry plaid and sat her between her knees. Brandishing her horsehair brush, she untangled the girl’s long tresses with smooth, even strokes. It was a soothing task, one Andra could barely remember between herself and her mother.
“How old are you, Kyle?” Andra asked.
“I be five years. And me sister be ten and four. Me older brathair died,” he puffed out his cheeks and expelled a sad, little sigh.
Humming a soothing lullaby, Andra brushed Senga’s hair while Kyle leaned against her side rubbing his little fingers over the smooth leather of her vest. Every so often, the boy hummed along with her, hopelessly out of tune…His voice halted every few bars with soft sighs. She plaited the girl’s hair into a long French braid and tied off the bottom with a thin strip of linen formed into a bow.
“Well now, aren’t you the most beautiful, young lass in all of Scotland?” The praise elicited a dip of the girl’s chin. If it dropped any further, her neck would snap at the back. Gliding her fingers along the girl’s hair, she wanted so much to pull her into an embrace, but the child would not welcome it. “I’m here if you want to talk with me,” she whispered.
She had never been around children so quiet. The grievous shock they had suffered would scar any child and silence many for life. A pain pierced her heart. Her ministrations aroused an ache, never far from the surface, for her own lost child whom she had held for only a few hours before he died. Even now, she could still feel his slight weight absent from her ever-empty arms. When the children went to explore the waterfall and pools, Andra turned to attend Lorne’s injuries.
“You have a way with the bairns. Do you have any of your own?” he asked.
Instinctively her hand pressed against her lower abdomen.
“ ‘Tis a painful memory that presses on you?” He placed a hand gently over the hand she rested on her thigh.
A wrenching recollection moved her to change the subject. “Do you think they have other family who will care for them? I wish I could assure them everything will be well in time.” She truly ached to snuggle these babes and give them assurance, but she knew the history of this time. Nothing would ever be easy or all right if the children were now orphans. Yet, if they had kin somewhere, surely they would offer care and shelter. Her father had always regaled her with stories of the Highlanders’ honor and love of family.
She lifted her eyes to Lorne’s, “I must seem very foolish.” In that moment, she knew she would do everything in her power to help them locate any remaining family. There had to be something she could do for them before she found a way to return to her own time.
“Dinnae fash yourself. Highlanders will not abandon bairns to the elements. If no kin are found, our clan will provide for them.”
Chapter Ten
After carefully searching the area around the sight of the previous night’s butchery, Kendrick and Rabbie set about burying the dead. Nothing remained in the crofts to salvage for the children. The burned ruins of three small crofts and a byre held nothing of value. A few scattered, tools rusted and dented by age and use, proved useful for digging the graves. Vermin still ravaged the slaughtered remains of a few. If there had been other survivors, human or animal, no evidence existed. They found a scrap of Cameron plaid clutched in a dead woman’s hand. They both growled in their throats and cursed the bastards and all the Sassenach who raped and pillaged their land.
Under a cerulean sky mounded with frothy clouds, they worked with quick efficiency. The English could be anywhere nearby and discovery would not bode well for them. Nevertheless, the dead needed burying and words spoken over their remains. Despite a slight chill in the air, sweat dripped from their chests and arms.
Kendrick’s thoughts kept r
eturning to the previous night and the image of Andra rocking the bairns and singing that haunting song. Her clear, sweet voice still rang in his head. No matter how hard he tried to close himself off from his attraction to her, the woman seeped into every fiber of his being. Every maddening, irritating, or generous thing she did unfurled another thread of mystery and wove straight into his long-cold heart.
She claimed her name was Cameron but insisted she did not know her clan. Could this be true or had she rescued the children over shame for the brutality of her clansmen? He did not want to believe a connection existed between her and Cormag Cameron or anyone associated with him.
“What do you think of the lass, Rabbie? Do you think there’s a connection between her and our enemies? Perhaps she is trying to escape them.”
Rabbie wiped sweat from his forehead and remained thoughtful for a moment. “She is a conundrum to be certain. While she’s reluctant to answer your questions, she tries to help where she can. Her clothing is unusual and her jewelry expensive. The lass has been kind, thoughtful, reserved, and at times outlandishly amusing. She has more than a little fire in her, and I’ve never heard a sweeter voice. She could make the angels weep.
“I am inclined to believe she speaks the truth and doesnae ken her Scottish clan, which I agree, is quite peculiar. The fact that she speaks but a few words of her native tongue is the most troubling thing to me.”
Rabbie glanced at his cousin, whose gaze scanned to the heavens. “Do you think to divine the answers from the sky, then? She is comely to be sure. You better be careful. I think she has caught you in her web.” He chuckled, an attempt to add a bit of levity to an otherwise onerous day.
Kendrick harrumphed in response and applied himself to their task more rigorously. He could not explain the feelings exploding in his chest to himself, much less to anyone else. He admired the amazing gentleness Andra had displayed with the children, and when she sang to them, a hard lump had formed in his throat. In all his travels, he had never heard a song like the one she’d sung last night.
Finding My Highlander Page 7