As the day of the Highland games drew near, Ian’s excitement increased. He was entered in a race for the boys of his age group. He would be running over hills, swimming across a river, and racing back to Gairloch. He had been training with Ribble all summer. All the clans for miles around would be participating. There would be sheep herding, piping and drumming, racing, wrestling, clan caber toss, and the clan’s tug-of-war. From what little Julie had been exposed to pertaining to the Scottish culture, she knew everyone would be wearing tartans and someone would be playing the bagpipes. The whole village participated in decorating and getting ready for the events.
Julie had tried her best to avoid Matthew since the night of the party. She felt torn between avoiding him and wanting to be near him. However, the decision was not hers to make. Between giving Ian his lessons and helping Mrs. Highet with preparing for the games, every hour of her day was taken. She worked almost feverishly. Her mind was in constant turmoil. The more Matthew intruded on her thoughts, the harder she worked. She knew herself to be in love with him, and she hated this weakness in herself. She’d sworn she would not entangle her life with another man—and certainly not this man.
She would be her own person. She believed it a weakness from within that she would even consider trusting her future to another man. Had she not learned her lesson with Geoffrey? Her poor Papa, God rest his soul, also left her without a penny to fly with. She wanted to run away and never see Matthew again, and yet she felt bound to him with invisible bonds stronger than any chain. He forged another link each time she saw him.
On her way to the kitchen to find Mrs. Highet, Julie overheard the voices of Ribble and Jarvis coming from the stairwell.
“Ribble, is there sure to be a war?" Jarvis asked.
“Aye, he has the support. It won’t be long now,” Ribble replied.
“What about Lord Bonnleigh?”
“Ye know he’ll be there. It won’t be long before Prince Charles declares his intentions. He’s just waiting for the right time. He won’t kick his heels in Inverness for too long before he raises the royal standard,” Ribble said.
“Aye, it’ll be official then. Seems everybody’s on edge just waiting for the axe to fall. It’s no secret he come here to fight.”
“Lord Bonnleigh has pledged his support. When Prince Charles casts the die, you can bet his lordship and every able-bodied MacDonald will be there surrounding him. MacDonalds don’t do half measures. They’ll fight to the last drop of blood,” Ribble said proudly.
“I reckon you’re right. I just wish we wasn’t going into another war,” Jarvis responded.
Julie heard the men move away and a door close. She sat down on the stairs, too weak to move. She knew young men always went to war. If not for their own country, then for another country and someone else’s cause. So many marched off to battle; so few returned. The ones who did were usually scarred or maimed. War was so primitive and uncivilized, and yet each new generation felt compelled to fight with yet more modern weapons of destruction. Perhaps it would always be the same until the end of time.
Tears stung her eyes at the thought of never seeing Matthew again. If he were not killed, then possibly he would come back to her, but not to seek marriage. She was not so naive as to believe wealthy gentlemen of the world married penniless women. They took them as mistresses. Love was never a prerequisite for marriage. The only reasons to marry were for heirs, for a better social position, or for money. Since Matthew lacked none of these things, he would probably never marry, or if he did, it would be much later in life when men made a last attempt to reach immortality or to prove their manhood.
Either way Julie knew she would lose. The war would take him, or she would lose him to some blue-blooded young girl with a fresh face and her social duty to fulfill. In this gloomy frame of mind, she rose to her feet and continued down the stairs to see what chores Mrs. Highet had for her.
Shortly after noon, Julie left Ian in the care of his riding instructor and walked a distance down the beach to a secluded spot where she sat soaking up the sun. Almost to the point of dozing off, she felt a shadow fall across her. She opened her eyes to gaze at the last person she wanted to see.
“Enjoying your break?” Matthew asked.
Julie sat up quickly. “I was,” she said ungraciously.
Matthew sat down, and Julie immediately stood up.
“Are you afraid of me?”
“Of course not. I have something I have to do,” Julie hedged.
“I would like to talk. Please sit down,” Matthew requested.
“I really can’t talk now. Please excuse me. I must hurry back to see what else Mrs. Highet has for me to do. I didn’t realize getting ready for the games involved so much work.”
“I think you can find a moment to talk. We have much to discuss. There is Ian, of course, and the weather, or we could talk about the night of the party.”
“Ian is doing quite well in all his studies and his riding.” Julie sat down and remained motionless with her hands clasped in her lap.
In the awkward silence, Matthew watched her. “Oh, it’s my turn, is it? Lovely weather we’re having for the first of August, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, very.”
“My turn again? We are being awfully civilized about this thing, aren’t we?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Miss Hastings, are you going to force me to spell it out?”
“My lord, I really must go, if you will excuse me–”
“No, I will not excuse you until we have talked about that night.”
“Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen. I am not a light o’ love, nor am I easy. I have been gently born and reared. I have no wish to sit here and discuss whatever vulgar subject you have in mind.” Julie started to get up again, but he held her fast with his hand securely around her wrist.
“You are a prudish piece of work. There is nothing vulgar about wants and needs between a man and a woman.”
Julie felt his stare raking over her skin like coals from a furnace. He continued to hold her fast, her spine stiffened, and she tried to make her mind a blank. She did not want to feel his touch, to be reminded of how his hands had caressed her skin that night. Her angst caused Julie to speak sharply.
“Don’t stare at me like that.” Her breathing became ragged rasps of air. She turned away, but he moved closer. “Don’t do this to me.”
“What am I doing? You were willing the other night. Nay, you enjoyed my closeness.”
“Things are different now. I’ve had time to think. Let go of me.” Julie began to squirm, but he held her still.
Matthew moved closer. He released her wrist, but his arm draped over her shoulder. The lips that excited so much inside her, burned her, and made her want more were again insisting, drawing her within their web. The fire he generated spread over her, consuming Julie. She felt her traitorous body weaken, her reserve crumbled, and she kissed him ardently.
Matthew’s skillful hands undid her bodice. Her breasts strained against the fabric, desiring his fiery touch. He pushed her farther down onto the sandy beach. He kissed her tenderly and caressed her flesh until passion took over, and she had no will of her own.
The calm of the beach splintered when laughter and the sound of horses’ hooves bore down on them. Matthew tugged Julie behind the boulder they were sitting beside. The interruption brought her to her senses. She stared down at her open bodice. With trembling fingers, she put her clothing back together and hastily stood up, but only after Ian and his riding teacher passed their hiding place.
Before Matthew could say anything, Julie raced up the beach. She thought she heard Matthew groan and say something she was sure she did not want to hear. She kept telling herself she’d had a lucky escape until she was behind the door of her room.
* * *
Matthew managed to stay out of her way, or she managed to stay out of his, for the next several days. The day of the g
ames arrived without any further incident, and Julie and Ian entered Mrs. Parsons’s inn to find her smiling and laughing amid the chaos, despite the possibility of inclement weather.
“It’s a dark, damp day for the games. Do you think there’ll be a good turn out?” Julie asked.
“Not to worry, Miss Hastings. The sun is going to burn off the fog. Did you feel that nice wind blowing when you came in? It’s coming from the west. It’ll be sure to chase those clouds away,” Mrs. Parsons chirped.
“This is my first time at the games.”
“You’ll not be disappointed. I don’t know when I’ve been more excited. My inn is filled to capacity.”
Julie listened to sounds of merriment surrounding the inn. The entire village was filled and bursting at the seams with revelers. Still more people seem to arrive. Her fascination with the crowd was cut short as a mournful wailing assaulted the air.
“What’s that sad sound I hear?”
“Oh, that’s just Robbie getting his bagpipes ready. You just don’t know what a time yer in for,” Mrs. Parsons said, smiling.
A bit later, Julie and Ian departed to get ready for his race. He was almost as tall as the other boys, but much slimmer. She watched him take off and disappear over the hill—somewhere in the body of the pack of runners. She did not believe he would win, but she hoped he would do well. She waited with anxious parents looking for their sons to top the last hill into town.
She heard the roar of the crowd and looked up to see Jamie MacDonald cross the finish line. Several others came, and then Ian ran up the street waving at Julie. Out of breath, his face red, he continued running as fast as his legs would carry him. He came across the finish line and fell into Julie’s arms.
When he recovered, he said, “I didn’t do too badly, did I?”
“You did really well, Ian. I’m very proud of you. You were not first, but you finished, and that is what’s important. This was just your first try. There is always next year,” Julie encouraged.
“I’ll win next year. You’ll see. I am going to train all year. I like the games, don’t you?”
“Yes, they are very exciting. What would you like to do next?”
“Miss Hastings, let’s go watch the caber toss. Ribble says I need to put on more weight for that event, but he is going to start my training now,” Ian gushed.
Turning around, Julie and Ian glimpsed Matthew walking toward them. Ian pulled away from Julie’s hand and started for his uncle.
“Uncle Matthew, Uncle Matthew, did you see me race?”
“Yes, I did. I am proud of you, lad. You did very well,” Matthew said. “Do you hear the sound of a bagpipe? That must be Robbie Parsons warming up. Come on, let’s go up to the inn,” Matthew said, including Julie in his invitation.
Mrs. Parsons’ inn lived up to a party atmosphere. The excellent food disappeared quickly, the spirits flowed without complaint, and the room took on a misty glow. The bagpipes could be heard for miles as familiar melodies filled the little inn, and the rafters shook with laughter and the combined commotion of country jigs and reels. Matthew guided Ian out the back door to watch the tug-of-war. A rider coming in fast stirred up the dust on the street. He dismounted and made his way to where Matthew and Ian stood.
“I’ve news from the true prince of Scotland and England,” he whispered, and then handed Matthew a letter sealed with the crest of Prince Charles.
The missive requested Matthew’s presence along with his countrymen on the nineteenth of August at Glenfinnan. He stared at the words of his invitation. The way it was worded, it could have been a request to a party instead of a summons to war.
The time for passiveness is at an end. I must act on what I believe or be undone.
He thanked the messenger and escorted him to the merriment and refreshments. Without showing his inner turmoil, he collected Ian and made his way down to the beach. Ever watchful, Ribble soon followed Matthew and Ian.
“Ian, I think we had better go back to the island. Something urgent has come up.”
“Who was that man? Is anything wrong?” Ian asked anxiously.
“Ian, my lad, I’ll have to leave soon. I hope it will not be for long,” Matthew said.
A frown crossed Ian’s face. Matthew wondered if Ian realized the full magnitude of what was coming. He did not want the war to touch him or their island, but he knew that was unrealistic. His association with the prince could cause Ian to lose the land the MacDonalds had held for generations. What would become of Ian, or Julie? His thoughts were heavy with a sense of dark foreboding.
A while later, Matthew looked up to see Julie walking toward them. He stepped out of the boat and helped her to get seated in the skiff. She sat down, clasped her hands together, and did not move. He studied her profile. She could have been a statue. Even now it took all of his strength not to reach out and touch her. He wanted to turn this cold figurine into the flesh and blood woman she had been in his arms, to feel her fire again. To taste her kiss, hear her heart beat wildly, but most of all to feel her hot, cool touch. Just being near her made his blood run hot. These feelings puzzled him. He’d never felt so out of control. It confused him sometimes and irritated him at other times, but most certainly thrilled him always.
He knew he had no right to ask her the questions he needed to hear the answers to, but his desire for her destroyed his will. What could he tell her about the war to come, of the uncertainties involving his life?
Would she refuse to wait for him? Did she feel the same as he? Too many questions and not enough answers.
He could not ask her to throw her lot in with him and turn against her own people if her sympathies lay with the Whigs. Wars were fought by professionals, but the consequences were felt by amateurs and innocents, of which she was one.
When they reached the island, Julie stepped out of the skiff and walked toward the castle. Her fellow passengers stood and watched her go.
“The lass seems unhappy. Not like her to leave without saying anything. Wonder what could be wrong?” Ribble said, scratching his head.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Come along, Ian,” Matthew replied.
* * *
Alone in her room, Julie paced the floor. When she could stand the stuffiness of her room no longer, she did what she always did to get rid of her depression. She put on her riding habit and headed for the stables. There were still several hours of daylight left. The groom quickly saddled Crusader. When the groom gave her a boot up, she welcomed the exhilaration she always felt in the saddle with the world before her. She meant to ride to the furthermost end of the island and be by herself to think.
“You don’t mind if I ride along with you, do you, Miss Hastings?”
She did not want Matthew’s intrusion, but she could not refuse. After all, he was still her employer. It seemed the less she wanted to see him, the more she felt she needed to be near him. Her head felt it would burst with all these contradictions.
She tried to keep her annoyance from showing in her answer. “No, of course not, your lordship.”
They rode along in silence for some time until Matthew spoke. “Missing your family, Miss Hastings?”
Startled, Julie replied, “Yes, I suppose I am. My cousin and I are more like sisters than cousins. She’s my last living relative, you know. I watched with envy as all the families danced and sang and were having such a good time at the games. It would be nice to have cousins, or brothers and sisters even. It brought home to me how alone in the world I am. It’s sobering and a bit depressing. I can’t seem to shake the feeling.”
“Surely you must have more cousins or aunts and uncles. I must admit I have some I would rather not own, but they’re there just the same.”
“I’m afraid it’s the other way around with us. Our relatives would rather not own us. My mother’s and father’s families were feuding over a piece of land. Because of the feud, they had to elope. When the families found out, both sides disowned them. Hannah’s mother—my mother�
�s sister—sided with my mother, and she found herself disowned as well. There is a large family somewhere with my parents’ names, but they would never recognize us, so I guess you could say we have…that is…I have no one. I remember an aunt on my father’s side who sent us Christmas presents, but my father made us send them back. After several years of returned presents, she quit sending them.”
“You’ve never tried to contact them, even after your parents died?”
“What would have been the point? There were no sweeter or kinder people in the world than my mother and father. If their families treated them so cruelly, then I could certainly expect no better,” Julie said bitterly.
Matthew set about to make himself agreeable and cheer her up. He kept up an easy banter, his jokes so ridiculous she smiled. Soon laughter followed.
“Now that’s much better. Beautiful women should never be blue-deviled. It’s against the laws of nature,” he teased.
“I don’t feel so beautiful today. I feel a hundred years somehow,” Julie said with a wrinkle of her nose.
“Trust me, my dear, you’re very beautiful today, as always. Maybe even more so, and especially at this moment.”
Julie looked away. Suddenly, she spurred her horse. “See if you can catch the wind,” she called over her shoulder as she raced off toward the nearest hill.
Matthew lightly kneed his horse, and soon they were neck and neck. They raced at breakneck speed, jumping over stumps, fallen logs, and dodging low-hanging branches. Neither gave way but continued in a dead heat. He glanced at Julie, and her eyes glowed with excitement. He could still see the young girl in her face. When on guard, the daredevil hid behind the sophisticated woman. A need to experience life, taste what life had to offer, lay just beneath her sophisticated veneer and could not be hidden.
The road lay up ahead, and soon their race would end. Julie did not rein in her horse until she hit the sandy beach. Both their mounts now waded in the cool, salty ocean. Julie quickly guided her horse back on the shore and started walking him to cool him down.
Rumors Among the Heather Page 8
