Highland Savior: A Medieval Scottish Highlander Historical Romance Book

by Alisa Adams

  "Absolutely!" she said excitedly, "when are we going?"

  Logan gave her one of his rare and delightful grins.

  "Is the day after tomorrow soon enough?" he asked, "we need to prepare."

  Rosina nodded happily.

  "We will have to be back before Christmas though," she said doubtfully, "can we do it?"

  "I'll make sure of it," he replied, "Mr. and Mrs. Anderson will be furious if we don't!"

  * * *

  Rosina sat thoughtfully for a moment.

  "Was your castle occupied by the English?" she asked curiously.

  He shook his head.

  "It was one of the few properties that wasn't," he answered, "they took most of our livestock and crops to feed their soldiers, though, giving our people just enough to live on. As soon as they were sure the Rebellion was over, they left. I was a child then, only three years old, so I can't remember them. I stayed there till I was older, then came to the Lowlands. My father had taught me all he knew about estate management so I was well set up to keep the Lowland castle going."

  "Hm." Rosina said shortly, "my father never taught me anything to do with farming or estate management. I do know how to run a household, but I would rather be a farmer any day of the week!"

  "Mistress," Maisie interrupted, "if God had wanted us to be farmers he would have given us muscles instead of breasts. And my mother and sisters all say that if men were able to bear children they would only have one!"

  Logan nodded.

  "I do not think I would have the strength to carry such a burden for nine months without help!" he admitted, "you are right, Maisie. You are far stronger than we feeble men!"

  They spent the rest of the day preparing their clothes for the journey, which Maureen, the 'sober, mature lady' laundered for them and hung before the fire. The next day was spent making food and packing, then they all went to bed early, at about eight o'clock in the evening.

  Maisie was one of those people who had a built-in alarm clock which was usually set for whatever time she needed to wake, so when it went off at six o'clock she went downstairs to make tea for everyone. Maureen lived in the village and was not going to come to work till nine am when the sun rose, so Maisie thought she was going to be alone in the kitchen. To her surprise, Logan was there. He looked around when he saw her.

  * * *

  "Good morning, Maisie," he said pleasantly, "did you sleep well?"

  "I did, thank you, my Laird," she replied, "and you?"

  * * *

  "Well enough," he said, yawning.

  "You are up very early," she observed, as she put the kettle on the fire, "the Mistress and I thought we might have to tickle you again!"

  He laughed softly.

  "This time I might tickle you back," he said wryly, "I haven't been up for very long, and anyway we must go quickly. We're starting off in the dark but I do not want to end our journey in it. The road is winding and stony. I do not want the horses to slip."

  Maisie made the tea and took a cup up to Rosina, who was already washing. Her riding habit was laid out on the bed, a job which Maisie usually did for her, but all mistress and servant rules seemed irrelevant now. This was an adventure and not the time for niceties.

  * * *

  "Morning, Maisie!" Rosina smiled, "how were your dreams?"

  "In truth, mistress, I cannot remember!" Maisie laughed, "and yours?"

  "I was dreaming about sailing on a great boat on a calm sea with the sun going down in a great ball of fire," Rosina said, "then a storm came up and the water came over us in a great wave, and I was very frightened that my new white dress was going to be ruined - and then I woke up!"

  "You weren't worried about drowning, Mistress?" Maisie laughed, "but of course the dress was far more important! Annie would probably be able to tell you the meaning, but I'm afraid I have no clue!" She was folding Rosina's clothes and putting them into panniers for the pack horse.

  Maisie finished with Rosina then went to wash and pack. Logan and Malcolm were already standing in the kitchen when they went down. Rosina had once commented on the fact that men always seemed to take only minutes to wash and dress, whereas it took women hours.

  "That's because they don't mind being dirty, Mistress," Maisie had said dryly.

  They made a hasty breakfast of eggs, bread, and more tea then set off.

  41

  Trouble

  They had been riding for some hours, stopping to eat and making good time. When they were three miles away from Fort Augustus, however, they ran into trouble. As they trotted along a tree-lined section of the road four men appeared in front of them so suddenly that the travelers had no chance to avoid them. They wore the uniform of English soldiers, but they were tattered and dirty. Logan at once knew that they were deserters, alone and desperate. All were bearded and looked skinny and hungry, but each carried a sword, and their intentions were clear. Logan remembered the time he had talked his way out of a similar situation, and now he remained calm, praying that Maisie had her big dagger with her. It did not have the reach of a sword, but it was still a lethal weapon. He himself was armed, as was Malcolm, but his sword was mostly hidden by a pannier.

  * * *

  "Good afternoon, Gentlemen," he said pleasantly, "what can I do for you?"

  "Get off your horse, for a start," the soldier said menacingly. He had a Southern English accent. Logan remained immobile.

  "And then?" he asked calmly.

  "Then we will tie you up," he went on, "and take your horses, food, money - and ladies." He looked at his companions, who were laughing in their throats and leering at the women. Rosina was pale with fear but Maisie was looking at the ragged and dirty figure with her nose wrinkled and her lip curled in disgust.

  Logan stared down at the man for so long he became uneasy. These were trained soldiers, but they were out of condition and out of practice. It was obvious they had been living rough for a while. Logan looked down at him for a long moment. His sky blue eyes had darkened and were as cold and hard as flint.

  * * *

  "I will give you all my food and some money," he said evenly, "but we are not carrying much."

  The soldier sniffed and wiped his nose. He might have been a handsome man at one time, for he was tall and dark, with a thatch of thick black hair and a bushy beard, but now he was bedraggled and dirty.

  "We want your women," the man insisted, taking a threatening step forward and putting the point of his sword right under Logan's chin. Logan sat still and unflinching.

  "I am sure the ladies are flattered, But I think they would rather come with us," he said calmly.

  * * *

  "I don't think they have a choice!" the soldier barked.

  "Oh, yes they do," Logan's voice was low and deadly, even though his head was still immobile due to the sword point, "because they come with us now or I will kill you."

  "With what?" the soldier sneered. The other three were slowly moving around to get behind Maisie and Rosina, but Malcolm, who had said nothing up till now, had surreptitiously handed his big hunting knife to Rosina. She had no idea how to use it, but it looked threatening, and it was better than nothing. She quickly tucked it into the folds of her skirts.

  Logan still could not move because of the sword under his chin, but Malcolm did. When a second man came to haul him off his horse, he pulled on the reins and kicked her flank so that she reared then skittered sideways, knocking the man off his feet so that he landed awkwardly on his chest and his sword passed into his shoulder. It was not a serious wound, but it incapacitated his arm, and in a moment Malcolm was spurring his horse around in a tight circle. Maisie, meanwhile, had slashed a deep cut in the arm of another man, and Logan had swiped the tall dark man across his stomach. He collapsed on the ground, writhing in pain. But it was not over. One of the other soldiers had managed to clamber up on Rosina's horse and was holding a sword to her throat. She was so terrified that she could not make a sound.

  "Now," he growl
ed, "who wants to kill this woman? If any of you touches me, this girl dies. I don't want her to die because I have better uses for her, but I will kill her if I have to, so get off your horses and let us end this once and for all, you haggis-munching bastards!" Logan dismounted from Maggie and looked grimly at the soldier holding Rosina, a thin, pasty-faced, sandy-haired type. He folded his arms.

  "Tell me something," he said casually, "what makes a man desert? Don't you believe in fighting for your country? You didn't actually think we 'haggis-munching bastards' could beat you, do you? Well done. You beat us, and now the fight is over."

  The man looked at him with loathing in his eyes.

  "I didn't want to come here, I was ordered," he said heavily, "now the war is over and I have been ordered to stay, I know not why. I have a family, and I want to see them again, as do all of us. But we need money and horses. And a bit of comfort."

  Logan could see that the man's arm was beginning to tremble. Just a few more moments and he would be unable to hold up his heavy sword.

  "And you think that kidnapping and raping a defenseless woman is 'a bit of comfort?' Let her go. I promise you, you will regret trying to do anything to her. She has powerful friends who will not rest until they find you, and they will show you no mercy. Your friends are wounded and cannot help you."

  The arm was shaking now. He could not support it with his other hand because his arm was clamped firmly around Rosina's waist, holding her in place. If he tried to switch hands he would be defenseless just long enough for Logan to pull him off the horse and kill him. They had disarmed Logan, but the English weapons were lying scattered everywhere. None of the soldier's companions could come to his aid. They were lightly wounded, but unable to move. Logan just had to keep on talking.

  * * *

  Rosina had been working the knife out of the folds of her skirt. She was terrified but determined to defend herself. She had little room to maneuver, she knew, but if she stabbed hard enough maybe she could startle him into dropping the sword. It was her only choice.

  * * *

  "If you let her go I will let you go to take your chances in the forest," Logan said reasonably, "I give you my word of honor. Don't be a fool. This is your only chance."

  The man looked at him for a moment then dropped the sword. Rosina, who had been about to strike, slumped forward, trembling with relief. Logan hauled the deserter off the horse and pushed the man's hand upward so that his arm was painfully twisted at the elbow. He screamed.

  "What is your name?" Rosina asked as they passed her.

  "Edward," he replied, his voice cracking.

  "Well, Edward," she replied, "I will pray for you."

  "Thank you, my Lady," he was pathetically grateful, "I'm sorry for what I did. I was mad."

  Rosina said nothing but walked away on trembling legs. 'I will pray for you to go to hell,' she thought viciously.

  * * *

  The three other men had been bound to a tree with the rope that Malcolm always kept with him for emergencies. Sometimes it was necessary to tie horses up to work on their feet.

  "I thought you were going to let us go!" Edward said, aghast, "you gave us your word of honor!"

  Logan slapped him on each side of his face with the front and back of his right hand. He wore a great silver ring with a large Cairngorm stone on that hand and it made a dent on the soldier's cheek which would later turn into a great purple bruise. His blue eyes, looking into Edward's brown ones, were dark with fury.

  "You dare talk to me about honor!" he growled. "Was it honorable to stop peaceful travelers in the middle of nowhere and try to rob them? Was it honorable to hold a sword to a lady's throat? Was it honorable to take her away and use her the way you wanted to?" he spat in the man's face. "Yes, I gave my word of honor, but honor works both ways, my friend. I lied to save a friend's life, which seems honorable to me, and I would do it again!"

  Then he and Malcolm bound his hands and tied him to the tree with the others. Rosina rushed into Logan's arms and he tightened them around her. He was warm, hard, solid and comforting and she felt the reassuring steady beat of his heart as she leaned against his chest. She had nothing to say. She just wanted to stand there in the shelter of his arms, breathe in his scent, and feel safe. He was her haven, her home, her safe harbor - oh, how much she loved him!

  Presently he drew back a little to look into her face.

  "Are you all right, Rosie?" he asked softly. She nodded.

  "I am now," she replied, "Logan, you were magnificent!"

  "Thank you, Rosie," he said softly and kissed her gently.

  * * *

  Logan intended to dispatch Malcolm to go and get a few men to bring the prisoners to the castle in an ox cart.

  "Go with him please," he ordered. She bristled.

  "Are you staying here?" she demanded.

  "I am," he said firmly, "someone needs to guard these bags of filth. I don't want you here - it might not be safe."

  "I am staying."

  He crossed his arms and shook his head.

  Rosina sighed.

  "Logan, you know my stubbornness is the stuff of legend," she stated firmly. "I said I am staying, and I am."

  Logan said no more, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. Before she could protest, he picked her up then slung her over his shoulder. He deposited her unceremoniously on her horse before smacking its rump firmly and walking away, not looking back. Rosina squealed indignantly, but she was already being carried away. Malcolm and Maisie grinned at each other as they followed her. For the first time in her life, Rosina Buchanan had been bested.

  42

  Fort Augustus

  When the three travelers got to the castle it was deep twilight and the winding path up the hill had had to be negotiated very slowly. A few times one of the horses slipped, but at last, they came to it and looked up at its imposing bulk rising high into the blackening sky. Down below, the waters of Loch Ness were still glimmering faintly, but in a few minutes the last tired remains of the sunlit day would be gone and it would be painted a dark gray. Logan had had no means of writing a note but instead had taken off the great ring he wore on his right hand and given it to Rosina.

  * * *

  "Keep it safe," he instructed, "for it was my mother's. If you give it to the estate manager he will recognize it and give you admittance. His name is Findlay Baxter and he is quite short, but you will recognize him by the eye patch he wears."

  * * *

  Now Rosina rode up to the guard and greeted him. He spoke only Gaelic, which both the ladies spoke fluently. He could see by Rosina's expensive clothes and the quality of her horse that she was a lady, so when she addressed him he stood to attention till she gave him permission to relax.

  "I wish to see the estate manager, Mr. Findlay Baxter, please," she began, "I have a message for him from Laird Fraser."

  * * *

  "Aye, my Lady," he bowed as he addressed her. "Who shall I tell him is calling upon him?"

  "Lady Rosina Buchanan of Dumbarton."

  The man went to the big main gate and disappeared inside, then came back outside with the man Logan had described.

  "My Lady," he bowed, "please enter and welcome."

  * * *

  "Thank you, Mr. Baxter," Rosina dismounted, but held onto her horse's reins, she opened her hand to reveal the ring, and Findlay Baxter nodded,

  * * *

  "Aye, 'tis his," he looked at her keenly from his one brown eye, "where is he?"

  "Laird Fraser was accompanying us, but we ran into trouble on the road." She briefly explained what had happened and Findlay Baxter's face reddened with anger.

  "The war is long over," he growled, "but these English -" he stopped himself from uttering an epithet, "just hang about here making trouble! So you say the laird is still there? We cannot leave him alone. I will send some armed men down to stay with him until morning then we can send some transport for them. I think the Laird will want to hand them over t
o the English garrison in Inverness, but we shall see."

  * * *

  Malcolm stepped up at that point.

  "May I go wi' them?" he asked. Rosina smiled and nodded.

  "Away and get somethin' to eat, man," Findlay said kindly. His one eye followed Malcolm as he walked away, "salt of the earth, men like that," he said warmly, "be fair with them and be fair with you - they work mighty hard."

  "You're right, Mr. Baxter, and Malcolm is one of the best!"

  * * *

  Findlay clapped his hands.

  "Right, my Lady - Miss," he nodded to Maisie, "are you hungry?"

  "I am more worried than anything else, Mr Baxter, but I think we should both eat," Rosina replied.

  Findlay smiled. He called a servant and ordered some food from the kitchen.

  "Whatever you have, Johnny! The ladies are hungry!"

  * * *

  "Would you rather see a bedchamber first or eat?" he asked them.

  "I think we would like to wash and change, Mr. Baxter," Rosina replied. Findlay called Mrs McCutcheon, the housekeeper, who showed Rosina to a large room overlooking the Loch, with a smaller anteroom for Maisie.

  * * *

  "Here you are my Lady!" she said cheerfully, "this room is always kept spick and span for very special guests!"

  Rosina noticed that her accent belonged to the North of England, and she frowned in puzzlement.