The Highlander’s Challenge (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Of course,” she said, inclining her head to the girl. “I'll be in my chamber shortly.”

  She turned and walked out of the room.

  In the hallway, her pulse thudded as she looked left and right and then went up the stairs. She walked quickly to her bedchamber and looked about. Blaire was not there. Alina sighed and collapsed onto the bed cross-ways, heart thudding.

  She lay there for a minute, relaxed at last. She looked up at the ceiling with its vaulting and the high arch of the window she could just see if she tilted her head back.

  After a moment she heard feet in the hallway. She tensed.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “Come in?” she called, sitting up quickly and adjusting the fillet that held her hair back from her brow.

  She turned to the door. Duncan was there. He had a sheepish smile and met her eyes, his own eyes gentle.

  “Alina?”

  She shook herself. Duncan was here, on the doorstep of her bedchamber. There was little more against protocol than that. If he was found there they would both be disgraced and probably banished. She stood and quickly walked to the doorway some strange spark outweighing shock.

  “Come in,” she said in a whisper. “Close the door. But don't stay long.”

  Duncan nodded. He stepped in, shut the door, and turned to face her.

  “Alina...”

  His arms were warm and Alina stepped forward, saying his name.

  They embraced. His hands brushed along her back, stroking her with a touch that was soft but carried a fevered need. She shivered and leaned close. His mouth moved over hers, lips hard and firm on hers. She sighed and parted her lips.

  Duncan pressed closer and his tongue explored her mouth. Alina sighed and closed her eyes. His body pressed against hers and his arms were strong around her, the shoulders solid muscle where her wrists rested, her hand on his shoulder and the other on his neck.

  “Alina,” he murmured, breaking the kiss. “My dear. I want you. I want you so...”

  Alina bit her lip, feeling the warmth within her well up and thought she might melt. She knew very little of what happened between men and women, though she had, in her healing work, seen men unclad and knew something of the anatomy of man.

  She knew now that she desired him.

  He moved and bent to kiss her once again. She sighed and pressed her body against his, feeling her own body throb with insistent need. She held him close, her arms wrapped firmly around him.

  He squeezed her against him and leaned forward. She felt his weight press on her and took a few stumbling steps back, losing her balance.

  They landed on the bed. He lay beside her, his body pressed against hers, arms squeezing her close, his lips against her hair. She could feel her own heart pounding. It felt wonderful to lie thus beside him.

  He leaned down to kiss her, his arms tightening, body pressing on her.

  Then, suddenly, he gasped.

  He sat up, breaking the kiss.

  “Alina. I can't. I...” he sucked in a breath. “If I stay, I'll...” he hesitated. “I'll do...”

  Alina smiled at him a little sadly. She, too, sat, hands at her sides. “I know what you want to say,” she said gently. “I think you're right.”

  Duncan looked up at her. He sat, head bowed, a sad smile on his own lips. His brown eyes looked relieved, as if pleased she understood.

  “I do not want us to forestall...our vows,” he explained hesitantly. “I want something different.”

  Alina smiled. She swallowed hard. “I know,” she said. She slid her hand across the covers towards him, a gesture of conciliation. “I do know.”

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  She chuckled a little shakily. “We should both go,” she said. “I promised Chrissie I'd talk to her.”

  “Oh.” Duncan smiled. “Well, then.”

  “Indeed.”

  They both grinned, though their smiles were wistful. He went to the door and she followed, standing at his shoulder. He looked into her eyes.

  “I have to do as your uncle asks,” he said softly. He shook his head, sighing, a smile crossing his face. “I have to wed you, Alina. I will die else.”

  She smiled. “Talk not of death.”

  “No. I need to do what he asks, but I don't know how to start.” He looked down at his hands, helplessly.

  “Well,” Alina said slowly. “I know where you start. What happens next, I know not.”

  “You do?” Duncan smiled at her, relief clear in every line of him.

  “I think so,” Alina said. Then she smiled and added firmly. “I shall tell you. Only if we go downstairs to the solar. We really should.”

  “Oh,” he chuckled, nervously. “Yes. True.”

  She followed him as he went quietly through the door and down the hall, waiting so they did not leave together. As she closed the door behind her, she bit her lip, concealing sadness. There was a part of her that ached to do what they had almost begun and, though she knew it was unseemly, she wished they had. She loved him so much. She needed him. She ached to experience what her body seemed to know of, even if her mind was uninformed.

  He was ahead of her in the stairwell and she walked lightly down behind him. In the hallway before the solar, they joined up again. The family had left, the servants quietly cleaning away the last of the meal.

  Alina went to the settee and sat down, heart pounding. Duncan sat opposite her. She gave a little sigh, feeling grateful. Had he been beside her on the settee, she would not have been able to think clearly. She needed to.

  “I know where you should begin,” she began quietly.

  “Tell me,” he said, eager and urgent.

  “The sword belonged to my family. I recall, now, that there was a ceremonial sword – said to have been used by Donald, the founder of our line. It went missing nigh on sixty years ago. We believe the Blackwood's have it.”

  “Blackwood's?”

  “Distant relatives. They disputed our right to the sword. They also have several boundary disputes which made them longtime enemies. If you were seen to take from them...”

  “Lord Brien would have pretext to override their boundaries,” Duncan contributed directly.

  “Yes,” Alina said, smilingly. She was impressed. “You understand quickly.”

  He laughed. “You answered the question for me, and you say I understand fast? My dear, I was lost!”

  Alina reached across and took his hand. He twitched and looked up into her eyes. The intensity of longing in those brown eyes almost tore at Alina's heart. She squeezed his hand and swallowed, swallowing tears.

  “Stay safe when you go,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. “I won't brook any bad happening to you.”

  Duncan grinned. “I think bad considers itself warned. If I were it, I wouldn't challenge you in a mood like that.”

  Alina tipped back her head, laughing. “Oh, Duncan. You're sweet.”

  “No. I'm sensible.”

  They both laughed at that. Alina scowled at him.

  “You're just pretending. I know you. You're not scared of anyone.” She grinned teasingly.

  “I know my match, dear. My father always taught me a good warrior was one who was prudent. Prudence, he counseled, included knowing your opponent. And when you're outmatched.”

  Alina grinned at him. She squeezed his hand. “We're well matched,” she said, voice concealing tears.

  Duncan nodded. He, too, could barely speak. “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes. We are.”

  They leaned forward and his hands squeezed her upper arms, drawing her against him. She reached across and rested her hands on his shoulders. They sat like that, looking into one another's eyes, until they heard a footfall in the corridor beyond.

  Duncan leaned back, shaking himself. “I should go,” he said quietly.

  “I, too,” Alina nodded. She bit her lip. “I shouldn't keep my young companion waiting.”

  Duncan nodded. “True.”

>   Neither of them moved. They still looked at each other.

  At length, Duncan stood. “I should go,” he said, not looking at her. “I should plan. I have a lot to consider...”

  Alina nodded. She bit her lip. She wanted to cry. “Yes,” she said. “You have. If I can help...” she trailed off.

  “I'll be sure to ask.” His voice was warm, full of admiration. Alina swallowed hard.

  He turned in the doorway and smiled, eyes shining. Then he turned and walked quickly down the hallway, heading left to the stairs.

  Alina sat there after he had gone. She looked across the room, but she was staring into memory, and into blankness. The blankness that was the space his departure would leave. The emptiness that would fill her heart and the worry for his safety: he could die on this quest against their enemy. She bit her lip. She did not want to cry.

  I will have to find a way to bear this. I have to.

  She stood and, brushing her hands down her dark velvet skirts, walked out into the hallway and towards her bedchamber. To talk to Chrissie, who she was fairly sure had just walked past the door. Who was waiting upstairs. At least, she thought, she would provide some warmth in the approaching times.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DEPARTURES AND FAREWELL

  DEPARTURES AND FAREWELL

  The day dawned cold as ice, despite the autumn not yet being done. A forerunner of winter, with the sky dark beyond the arched windows, gray with cloud.

  Alina walked down the steps to the great hall. She felt as if winter had visited her heart: frozen and numb. She reached the great front door.

  “Duncan.”

  He was on the step. No great send-off, no assembly of the men-at-arms and servants to see him off. Dressed in a padded jerkin and hose, he waited on the doorstep, flaxen hair tousled in the chilled breeze. Alina closed her eyes. He looked for all the world like a knight from the tales. Some ancient hero, setting off on a quest. She opened her eyes again, trying to smile. Her face was frozen with sadness, eyes wide.

  “Alina.” He smiled at her, his eyes kindled with warmth tinged with sadness. “Farewell?”

  Alina bit her lip. He made the word a question, a request. “I will try to fare well,” she said, swallowing hard. “I wish you blessings, Duncan.”

  She leaned in towards him and he wrapped his arms around her. His lips met hers, a chaste promise that wrung her heart. Alina looked into his eyes.

  “You will return, Duncan MacConnoway.”

  He smiled wistfully. “I consider that an order.”

  “I consider that a promise.”

  He laughed. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Good.”

  She squeezed his shoulder and looked into his eyes. Then all attempt at banter or humor failed her. She closed her own eyes, feeling tears well up.

  “Take care?”

  “I shall. You, too.”

  “Yes.”

  They embraced again. She could smell the scent of him – the musk and sweetness of his skin, the scent of rosemary on his cloak from storage.

  “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.”

  He stood in the doorway, hand raised in salutation. Then he turned. Blaine was behind him in the doorway and he looked up at him, eyes wide.

  “Are we off?”

  “Yes.”

  Duncan turned to her once more, eyes level. He nodded once and she bit her lip, nodding in return. Then she turned and walked, straight-backed, up the hallway and to the stairs. She took the stairs two at a time, walking briskly to her bedchamber, opening the door. She shut it quietly behind her, and then collapsed on the bed.

  She sobbed.

  After a moment, she rolled over. Lying on her back, the arched ceiling above her, she could not quite believe it was only yesterday she had lain here with Duncan beside her. She sighed. She could still feel his body beside hers.

  I want him so much.

  The thought surprised her. She was not sure what it was she wanted – not exactly. Vague accounts of what men and women did under the sheets left her with precious little idea of it in truth. She knew the mechanism of conception, having read medical texts, but little more besides. Somehow her body knew more and ached to discover it first-hand.

  Please, she thought then, closing her eyes. Make him return. Make him come back to me, for I do not think I can live without him.

  Alina sighed. She sat up, blowing her nose on a square of linen. She could not sit about here all day. There were things she had to do. Duties she needed to perform. She stood and went over to the mirror. A long, pale, tear-streaked face looked back at her, black hair falling from where Blaire had arranged it that morning, blue gown emphasizing the grayish sadness that seemed to emanate from her. She sighed and splashed her face in the ewer on the dressing table.

  “There,” she said aloud to her reflection. “Better.”

  She didn't feel much better. She pinched her cheeks to at least get some color into them, and reached for a stray hairpin to adjust her hair. When she was done, she tilted her head on one side, assessing her reflection. Not too bad, she decided thoughtfully. She still looked sad and downcast.

  What you need is a visit from Amabel, she told herself. Her black eyes warmed at the thought. Or, failing that, perhaps you could be spared from duties for a few days to visit her at Dunwray?

  The thought was a good one and Alina decided to ask her uncle. At the thought of Uncle Brien she felt her stomach turn, a sour, bilious anger unsettling her. Alina was almost never unsettled by anything, but her anger towards her uncle was something she could not overcome. How dare he risk Duncan's life, sending him on some foolish errand designed to benefit his ambitious claims?

  Sometimes I wish I could really make that man miserable. She shook her head. Uncle Brien was not a wicked man – simply an unthinking one. Unable to show sympathy to others. She turned away from the mirror, smoothing her skirts flat.

  “Milady?”

  “Yes, Blaire?” she asked.

  “Patrice in the kitchens was asking for you. Says her old mum's poorly.”

  “Oh.” Alina felt her mind switch instantly to the concerns of a healer. Patrice, the assistant to the cook, had an elderly mother who repeatedly came down with an infection of the lungs. Alina was running through the list of herbs that would assist her as she walked to the door. “I'll go down directly,” she said over her shoulder to Blaire. She walked into Chrissie in the doorway.

  “Oh. Hello,” she smiled at the girl.

  “Alina!” Chrissie stared up at her hopefully. “I was just coming to find you! I had to talk.”

  “Yes?”

  “Blaine said farewell to me this morning,” Chrissie said as they walked down the spiral stairs towards the ground floor. “He made me a promise to return. I don't understand what possesses him, Alina! Why is he always so attentive to me? I wish sometimes he'd just leave me alone.” She sounded wretched.

  Alina stared at her. She tried to conceal the grin on her face but it was hopeless. She was utterly surprised: how could the girl not have noticed how affected Blaine was by her, and why?

  “What?” Chrissie said, sounding slightly offended.

  “I meant no offense, dear,” Alina said, touching her shoulder. “I just cannot quite believe you are unaware of why.”

  “Why, Alina? I am! Please tell me?” she asked, plaintive.

  “Chrissie, dear. The man adores you. I'm sorry to put it plainly, but I must.”

  Chrissie stared at her. “Alina? Really?” She looked horrified.

  Alina chuckled. She turned to face her, both standing halfway down the stairs. “I thought you knew that,” Alina said gently. “I would have mentioned it a year ago, had I known you were oblivious.”

  Chrissie was looking up at her, pale blue eyes wide, mouth half open. “I just...I never noticed.”

  Alina laughed delightedly. “That's because you're too sweet for your own good,” she said affectionately. “Now,” she added, seeing Chrissie frowning
. “I am considering a journey to Dunkeld. Care to join?”

  Chrisse looked up at her. She seemed to not quite believe what Alina had said. “Alina? You...Truly?”

  “Yes. I have to ask Uncle, of course. But I'm almost certain he would agree. I am sure he can spare us for a few days. We would not stay too long.”

  “Alina! That would be lovely!” Chrissie squeezed her in a hug.

  Alina laughed. “Don't choke me, dear,” she said kindly. “Now. I need to find some parsley plants. Are there any left in the kitchen garden now?”

  “I think so,” Chrissie said, bounding down the steps behind her, light-footed in her soft satin slippers. “Or you could look in the orchard. I think I saw some there when I took Blue for a ride...”

  Blue was her new horse, a small jennet horse – light and fast – gifted to her by Connolly relatives. She loved her and rode often, gaining in her skills. Alina was sure that her young friend would insist on riding to the place, but she would prefer to take the carriage. She would have to insist.

  “I'll look there, thank you,” she replied to Chrissie's words.

  Chrissie followed her down past the great hall, and then caught sight of Heath in the doorway. He walked across, bowing to both ladies.

  “Lady Alina. Lady Chrissie.”

  “Heath. There you are!” Chrissie said impulsively. “I was looking for you yesterday! I wanted to ask you about something Friar Bronn said yesterday in lessons.”

  Alina smiled to herself as she listened to Chrissie and Heath talking earnestly behind her. She headed out to the kitchen gardens to harvest parsley for the cook's ailing mother.

  After twenty minutes in the kitchen, explaining the dose and advising Patrice on what to do were her mother's condition not to improve quickly, she headed up the stairs to Uncle Brien's office. She felt herself grow tense as she ascended the stairs – having to ask Uncle Brien anything at all was unpleasant, especially now.

  “Uncle?” She knocked, calling through the door. The door was shut, but it always was.

  “Alina? Come in, niece.” A voice called from within.

  Alina stiffened her spine and walked in, feeling the first stirrings of annoyance towards the man. At least if I am angry I am not afraid. The thought was, oddly, comforting. She walked across the threshold.