Highlander's Stolen Destiny: A Medieval Scottish Historical Romance Book

by Alisa Adams

  Lachlan had drifted off into a daydream. He was staring into space, leaning on the hay fork, and when Shona came in, he was startled, not hearing her. She handed him a cup of milk, and he held onto her hand as he took it from her. She tugged and tugged, but he was too strong for her.

  "Let go of me or I'll scream," she hissed out furiously.

  "Shona, I wanted to apologize," he said, running his fingers back through his hair in agitation. "What I did was shameful. I don't know what came over me. Please forgive me."

  He let go of her hand, and she snatched it away, rubbing her wrist as if he had caused her a serious injury. Then she gave him one last poisonous look and ran out.

  He stood, defeated for a moment, then his anger rose to meet her own. He had sinned, yes, but he could not undo what had been done. He had tried to make amends. What more could he do? Damn the woman – why was she so maddening and yet so… desirable?

  Some Conclusions

  Lachlan, after mucking out the barn, had been sent to get some fish out of the loch for dinner. Lachlan realized that having very few memories rendered him almost bereft of conversation, and yet he found great pleasure in listening. These people never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Sometimes Angus, Brody, and Cameron would walk over to the other farms to trade grain, eggs or salted fish because sharing and bartering were natural to them. They brought back gossip from the village and tales about their neighbors, which caused scandalous faces and much hilarity.

  When Lachlan went down to the fish traps he pulled out eight small brown trout – One each and one left over, he thought with satisfaction.

  Catriona was delighted with him. "For a toff, you are an awfully useful man to have aroon'!"

  Lachlan was intrigued. "Why do you think I'm a toff?" he asked, laughing.

  "The way ye speak, for a start," she replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. "An' the delicate way ye dae things. An' ye have good manners – ye havena' learned tae grab for yer food like my lot. Ye may starve roon' here, mind!"

  Lachlan wrestled with his decision for a minute and eventually decided to take Catriona into his confidence.

  "Mistress Donaldson," he began, but she flapped her hand at him.

  "My name is Catriona, an' you are one of the family now," she said firmly. "Call me by my Christian name."

  He nodded, then said awkwardly, "Catriona, may I take you into my confidence?"

  "Of course, lad. Sit doon." She smiled at him, then took his hands in hers. They were as rough as Campbell's. "Somethin's troublin' ye, lad. Whit is it? I promise it willna leave this room."

  He sighed. "I think," he began, "only think so far, that I might be a laird or a person of means. I keep remembering things. I had a nanny and a horse. And I think I may have a wife. She's foreign, Spanish, and very beautiful, but I still don't know where I come from. And I might be just imagining all this. Mayhap I just need to believe it because I am scared not to."

  He looked at her with such desperation that her heart went out to him. Like Shona, she had tried to put herself in Lachlan's position, and she too had failed.

  "If this is true, ye need tae find oot, lad," she replied. "There may be people who rely on ye. Mayhap ye have children, young though ye are. Ye can stay here with us, get yer strength back, then go intae Inverness and find oot as much as ye can. If you are a laird, somebody will know ye."

  "That's true," Lachlan murmured, "and I have a feeling that there are many more memories in here." He tapped his head. "Still to come out." He sat looking absently out of the window for a while, then went outside to help bring in the animals. Snow was coming, and it was going to be the beginning of a long, brutal winter.

  Despite herself, Shona was desperately attracted to Lachlan. She dreamed about him at night, dreams where she lay folded in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. He would kiss her and – her modesty would not allow her to go any further forward, even though Catriona, unlike most mothers, had prepared her daughter for her wedding night.

  Shona was drawn towards him because although he was a big man, his size and strength had not protected him from this sudden twist of fate which was seemingly insurmountable. Part of her wanted to say that he was a ruthless scoundrel, but another part wanted not to judge him so harshly, after all, she had no idea how she would cope in his circumstances. It had been a moment of weakness, perhaps, and he had said sorry.

  She was preparing the morning porridge, and he brought in the milk, then set the jug down on the table and left quietly. She looked out of the window and saw him yoking up the ox for plowing. She drew in her breath as she took in the rippling muscles on his arms and chest, and the ridged ones on his stomach. Underneath his linen working hose were the bulges of strong thigh muscles, and a strange tingling sensation she had never felt before came to her in a part of her body that was unused to such things. She wanted him in every way a woman should want a man, even though she really only had the haziest idea what that meant.

  God help me, she thought as she gazed at him. Why am I feeling this way?

  Catriona came up behind her and caught her gaze, which was now fixated on Lachlan's movements. She smiled. Her daughter was so mesmerized she hadn't even heard her mother coming up behind her.

  "Fine figure of a man," she remarked casually, making Shona jump.

  "If you say so, Ma," Shona replied airily, resuming what she was doing.

  Thankfully, Lachlan moved away after that, but all morning thoughts of his lean muscled body came back to taunt her. She supposed this was what it was like to grow up, but why hadn't she felt it for the MacPhail sons, big, handsome and strong? Or big Murdo Robertson with his fiery red hair? He had a substantial house, acres of land and a herd of fine dairy cows, and he had asked to wed her more than once. He would be a fine catch for any maid, but she found his coarseness and foul manners repulsive. And he never washed! Rumor had it he was also cruel to his workers, so how much more would he be to his wife?

  “Pearls before swine,” Catriona had said. To think of her girl going to a brute like that was something she would not tolerate.

  But Lachlan? As far as Shona knew he had nothing. Nothing didn't worry her too much – she had very little herself, but she was surrounded by love. She didn't think that what she felt for him was love. It was something much more basic, much more earthy and real. You could sing songs about love, but not about this!

  Troubles

  Lachlan was just as troubled, not just about Shona, but about the dreams and visions that were so tantalizingly close to telling him where he had come from. The night after he had taken the ox out to plow, he was standing on the slope beside the cottage. In his mind's eye, he was a boy again, only seven years old, walking through the castle with Ishbel. It was very quiet, and everyone was walking with their heads bowed.

  "What's happened, Nanny Ishbel?" he asked innocently. “Why does everyone look so sad?"

  Ishbel looked down at him and squeezed his hand. Her eyes were full of tears, which ran down her cheeks as she looked at him. He felt afraid suddenly, especially since they were going into Father's bedchamber, where he was never usually allowed to go.

  His father was sitting in a chair by the window, and he held out his arms for Lachlan to walk into. For Lachlan, this was very strange. He could only remember a handful of times in his life when his father had embraced him. His mother, after the death of his infant brother, James, had been even more distant, only seeing him on Sundays and church holidays. Ishbel had been his love, warmth, and comfort, yet here was his father reaching out and gathering Lachlan into his arms. It was strange being held by his father. He felt hard where Ishbel was soft, and his beard scratched Lachlan's smooth boyish face. Isabel's cheeks were as smooth as the fine silk his mother wore sometimes.

  "I have to tell you something," he said quietly, his blue-gray eyes looking into Lachlan's. "This morning, your poor mother died in her sleep. She had been ill for some time, as you know, and this morning, God decided that she s
hould not suffer anymore. She died peacefully, and He has taken her to heaven where she will live with Him forever in perfect happiness. Do you understand?"

  Lachlan nodded. He had hardly known his mother and was not quite sure what to do or say next. He looked at his father and waited for instructions, but none were forthcoming.

  "Can I go and play with the dogs now, Father?" His question was sincere and innocent, but it took his father aback. Perhaps he had never understood what a distant relationship there was between Lachlan and his mother. He sat stock-still in astonishment for a moment then his face clouded over. He was just about to lash out with a stinging reprimand, when Ishbel, seeing what was going to happen, said quickly:

  "M'lord, he doesna' understaun' yet." She shook her head. "Gie me a while to explain it. He's only a wee lad."

  The laird sat back in his chair and nodded, then he made a little 'shoo' gesture. He watched them go, then put his face in his hands.

  Lachlan remembered that day as being a very happy one. Ishbel took him down to the kitchens, and they ate honey cakes while she told him one of the many fanciful tales she had made up for him over the years about the monster in the loch. Lachlan had asked her many times if she believed the story and she always looked shocked and told him that she did.

  "Have you ever seen her?" he asked, laughing because he knew the answer already.

  "I have seen her many times, Master Lachlan," she said knowingly, "and once she smiled at me with her great teeth showing. ‘Twas a fearsome sight, I can tell you!"

  Lachlan laughed, as he always did. Ishbel was funny, and that was why he loved her – well, one of the reasons.

  The next day, Father took him to the church on his horse and carriage. Another carriage contained a big wooden box. They said a lot of prayers in low voices and lowered the box into a great square hole in the ground. Lachlan was bored. He didn't know quite what all this was about, and all he wanted was to go and play with his dogs or fly his kite. He knew that as soon as it was all over, he would go down and run on the shingle by the water's edge with the wind in his hair and the waves lapping at his toes.

  Gradually he came back to the present, his eyes refocusing on the gray landscape before him. Gray loch, gray sky, gray mountains. He was a man now, and he knew there was no monster, but in his childhood – another memory – Ishbel's tales had been the stuff of great amusement and fantasy. And sometimes they scared him so much he couldn't sleep, but in a perverse way, that too had been fun. Now he could remember great chunks of his past but not where he came from. He sighed. Mayhap it would always be like this.

  The rain had begun to fall, and he turned to go back into the cottage, wondering how much more time he would have imposed on these generous people. They must be tired of him by now. He must be a married man, and he wondered if he had children. Every man wanted sons to carry on his name, and he was no exception, but if he ever had a child with Shona—he stopped the thought as it began because that way lay madness.

  The next day, the famous Murdo made an unannounced and unwelcome visit. Catriona looked out of the window at dusk to see a flame-haired figure riding out of the gloaming on a huge gray stallion, about which most of the countryside had already heard but never seen. It had almost passed into legend, and here it was in the flesh. It was his pride and joy, his status symbol and the most precious of all his possessions. So few people owned a horse – even a pony – that it made him someone to be looked up to – a big fearsome figure in the community. That horse said: 'Look at me because I am important!'

  Neither Shona nor Catriona was impressed. Her brothers too found Murdo beyond loathsome but for some reason, the more she spurned him, the more he pursued her. She was like the deer he couldn't catch, and the more it ran away, the more he wanted its venison for his stew pot. Unfortunately, only Catriona and Shona were at home, and neither relished the coming encounter.

  The Puzzle Solved

  Catriona tried to hold Shona back, but she strode out determinedly to meet the man whose attentions had now come to the point of harassment.

  "Well met, lass!" Murdo boomed. He had a deep bass voice that always sounded as if it were coming from the bottom of a cave.

  "Did I not tell ye the last time ye called that ye were unwelcome here?" Shona said patiently.

  Murdo made a courteous bow of his head – or it would have seemed so from anyone but him. His eyes seemed merry, but Shona knew that there was malice behind his snakelike smile. His vassals, three of them, always had to run behind him and were still several hundred yards behind. He dismounted from the big horse and walked up to her. She was so small that he could have done anything he liked to her and she would have been utterly incapable of resisting.

  "Lass," he said, laughing heartily, "when a woman says 'naw' she always means 'aye'. Everybody knows that."

  But Shona, though inwardly terrified, had no intention of showing him her fear.

  "And ye would knaw this – how?" she asked defiantly, lifting her chin.

  By this time, the minions were almost upon them. Shona was glad he had not brought his brothers today.

  Catriona came out of the house, and the two small women stood to face the big man. Murdo had an overwhelming advantage, and he knew it. This little minx had teased him long enough – he had endured it with patience, but he was a man, and a man's will prevailed over a woman's. That was the way God had ordained it, and that was how it was going to be because he was not going to be humiliated any longer. She would submit to him or suffer the consequences, and he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy making her submit.

  He walked up to Shona, and was about to reach out for her, when Campbell's voice stopped him. Murdo smiled because the odds were still overwhelmingly in his favor.

  "Mr. Donaldson!" He smiled expansively, opening his arms. "How are ye? Sadly, my brothers couldna' be here to greet you – they have urgent business in Inverness."

  Campbell said nothing, but looked over the big man's shoulder to where Cameron, Brody, and Angus were standing, each with a stout wooden spade in his hands. Then, last of all, another man came around the corner of the house. At that, Murdo's three servants quietly slunk away, unwilling to defend someone they despised anyway.

  Lachlan and Murdo stood glaring at each other for a moment, and suddenly the last few pieces of the jigsaw fell into place in Lachlan's mind. He looked at the horse, and his eyes widened in astonishment. Then he did the last thing anyone expected.

  Putting two fingers in his mouth, he let out a piercing whistle. The gray horse pricked his ears up, and whinnied, tossed his head, and trotted over to Lachlan, then ruffled his hair with his chin, whickering affectionately. Lachlan laughed, kissed the horse's nose and scratched his head between his ears. He held up a finger then moved it in a circle. The big horse trotted around in a circle then when Lachlan held his hand up he stopped dead. Murdo shouted and ran over to the horse, but Lachlan was already holding its bridle.

  "Whit are ye playin' at?" Murdo protested, but he was completely ignored.

  Lachlan clapped his hands; the horse reared up on his hind legs. Murdo ran backward in startled fear, then tripped and fell on his backside.

  Lachlan then gave a different whistle, and the stallion lashed out with his back legs. He pointed to the ground, and Jamie knelt down on his knees. He pointed upward again, and the horse got to his feet, then stood still as Lachlan hugged his neck.

  "Hello, Jamie," he said quietly, smiling.

  Jamie nodded a few times and then stood, still and quiet, while Lachlan looked over at Murdo, his eyes black with fury. Murdo was trying to struggle to his feet, but Lachlan went over and shoved a booted foot onto his chest, pushing him down again.

  "Finished with my horse now?" he asked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

  "That's not your horse," Murdo said angrily. "I bought him fair and square."

  "Aye?" Lachlan raised his eyebrows. "From whom, may I ask?"

  Murdo had the grace to look awkward. "Nane of
your business." His voice was surly, and his eyes would not meet Lachlan's.

  "Oh, I think it is very much my business," Lachlan said frostily. "I brought this horse up from the day he was born. We grew up together. I trained him to ride into battle, and I taught him party tricks, so I know that this is my horse. He recognizes me and answers to his name, and if you try riding him away now that I am here, he willna' let you. You know why? Because you may be big and strong, but this horse is much stronger than you are, and his love for me is stronger still. And you bought this horse knowingly from someone who stole it from me – maybe even stole it under your orders?" He paused, looking down at the big man contemptuously.

  "I didna' know it was your horse!" Murdo said, his voice rising in fear. "I just bought him from a man called Duggie, and that's all I knaw."

  "I don't believe you. A horse of this quality stands out, does he not? Does he look like a pony? Or a horse who pulls plows?" Lachlan went on mercilessly. "I don't believe this 'Duggie' exists. I believe Jamie was stolen right out of my stables. I know how much this horse is worth, and I did not expect anyone to be stupid enough to ride him around here – unless…" He continued on as though the thought had just occurred to him. "… you thought the owner was dead. You may even have helped to plot his murder."

  "Naw!" There was real panic in Murdo's eyes now. He struggled to his feet and stood, looking with naked fear into Lachlan's eyes. "I knaw naethin' of that, I swear!"

  Lachlan's lip curled in contempt. "And why should I take the word of a worm like you?" he said scathingly. "You know nothing of the truth! I am the Laird of Ness," he went on grimly. "I hear that you have been pursuing the maid Shona, that she has refused you, and you have not taken 'no' for an answer!" He paused, breathing heavily. "That will stop. And if I find that you have harmed one hair of this family's heads, if I find one sheep missing from their flock, I will make you wish you had never been born. You are fortunate to be a freeholder, or it would give me great pleasure to strip you of your land rights!"