A Highlander Born From Chaos (Highlanders 0f Kirklinton Book 2)

by Kenna Kendrick

  It seemed that he was about to question her further, but at that moment, Owen called to them from the fireside, and their mother stood up and stretched, declaring that she too would go to her rest, despite the early hour.

  “I was awake all last night worryin’ for ye, Evie. I must rest now,” she said, “I am just glad we have ye home,” and she patted Evie’s shoulder as she passed.

  Evie looked at Rory, who nodded to her, as they joined Owen by the fireside.

  “Well, ye are safe now, lass,” Owen said, smiling at her.

  “Aye. Thank ye both for comin’ to look for me. I am sorry if I worried ye,” she replied.

  “ all right. But daenae worry us like that again, nae when we have MacBrydes runnin’ roughshod across the moorlands. These are dangerous times, I wouldnae be surprised if the English too were involved. The Musgraves cannae be trusted, even if old Sir Percy is long dead,” Owen said.

  Evie glanced at Rory, who was staring into the fire with a ponderous look upon his face. Did he suspect her of treachery? She had done nothing except speak with a stranger, one who turned out to be quite different from the stories she had been told of his clan. Would she see him again? The thought itself was treacherous, but she could not help but think she would like to if only to return his cloak and thank him for rescuing her. As the fire burned low, Evie knew she would be restless until she did so. She was not afraid of the MacBrydes, especially when one of their number had shown her such kindness, and as the evening drew in and she prepared for bed, she was even more determined to thank Hamish than she had been before.

  “Evie,” her brother said, as she made her way to bed, the fire having burned low.

  “Aye, Rory? Dae ye wish to chastise me further?” she replied.

  “Nae, but I dae wish to warn ye. Daenae have anything’ to dae with the MacBrydes, ye hear me?” he said.

  “Or else what?” she said, angered by his words.

  “Or else ye shall be nay friend of this clan,” he replied, and looking at her grimly, he made his way to bed.

  But Evie was not worried by his words; instead, they made her more determined than ever to forge her own path. Hamish MacBryde was no enemy, whatever her father and the others might say, and Evie would thank him for his help, whether they liked it or not.

  Chapter Six

  Evie slept late the next morning and awoke shivering, wrapped in blankets. The fire in her chambers had burned to nothing, and a draft was blowing around the drapes which hung from the windows. She stretched and rolled over, remembering the chill of the icy stream and the warmth of the cloak wrapped around her. Sitting up, she yawned, and with the blankets around her shoulder, she padded across the cold flagstone floor to the window.

  The sky was clear, but it was windy outside, the breeze blowing the heathers upon the moorland as the sun rose on the horizon. It would be a pleasant day, ideal for a walk across the moorlands. Evie’s resolve to thank Hamish for rescuing her had now dissipated. If anything, it had become stronger. She knew her father and mother would be horrified to learn that she had spoken with the enemy, even more so to learn that it was the enemy who had rescued her from the stream. But their quarrels were not hers, and despite hearing many tales of MacBryde treachery, she was yet to encounter their hostility for herself.

  The name ‘MacBryde’ was used as a scare for unruly children. Her mother had often done so herself.

  “Be good else the MacBrydes will take ye,” she used to say when Evie and her brothers were naughty.

  But precisely what crimes the MacBrydes were guilty of, apart from siding with the English for their own protection, Evie was unsure.

  She dressed quickly, for her chambers were still chilly, and no servant had come to stoke the fires, before making her way down the stairs to the Great Hall. There, she found her mother and Sweeney at their breakfast, her brothers and father nowhere to be seen.

  “Have Father and the others gone out to their work already?” she asked, helping herself to porridge from a pan over the fire.

  “Aye, first thing. They went to check the moorlands above the stream for any sign of the MacBrydes,” her mother replied.

  “Why are we enemies with the MacBrydes? What is that they have done, which is so wicked?” Evie asked, and her mother laid down her spoon and fixed her with a hard stare.

  “Ye know why, Evie. The MacBrydes cannae be trusted,” she said, and her Godfather nodded his head.

  “The MacBrydes are our sworn enemies, just like the Musgraves, and if they are makin’ incursions into our lands, then we must know of it,” Sweeney said, shaking his head.

  “Aye, but why are they our enemies? Is it only because they side with the English?” Evie asked, determined to be given a better answer than she had been at previous times of asking.

  “Is that nae enough, lass? We are Scots, and we Scots must keep together against our common enemy. If it were nae for the alliances between the border clans, then the English would soon overrun us. The MacBrydes betrayed that trust when they sided with the Musgraves twenty years ago. Ye were just a bairn, of course, but it saddened yer poor grandfather deeply. We had thought the Musgrave threat was gone. After Howard’s Musgrave’s death and ye know that story well enough, his father, Sir Percy, was a broken man. We heard little from the English, only the occasional raid. But as time went by, they became bolder once again. Crofts were burned, and English soldiers were spotted upon the borders. It was then that yer grandfather discovered that the MacBrydes had sided with the Musgraves against us. He vowed then that no MacBryde would ever sit at the table again with an Elliott, for we had once been at peace, and now we were betrayed. Ye cannae trust them, Evie, and when ye cannae trust someone ‘tis better that they remain an enemy, rather than a friend,” her mother replied.

  Evie was silent for a moment. It seemed that every MacBryde was tainted by the betrayal of twenty years past. Hamish MacBryde must have been only a child at the time, just like herself. She remembered his words about the quarrel between the clans, a quarrel which concerned their parents and not them. But she knew there was no point in arguing with her mother. It would fall on deaf ears or worse, she would be accused of treachery and given the trouble she was already in, Evie had no desire to antagonize her parents or Godfather further.

  “I understand,” she replied, and Sweeney looked at her with a puzzled expression upon his face.

  “Why the interest in the MacBrydes? Ye have never bothered to ask of them before,” he said, but Evie just shrugged her shoulders.

  “It was Father who mentioned them when he spoke of the stranger upon the heathers above the Armstrong castle. I was simply curious, for I wouldnae wish to run into such a person or find myself at odds with one,” she replied.

  “Then ye must dae what yer mother and father tell ye and stay at the castle where ‘Tis safe,” her Godfather replied.

  Evie nodded. She would bide her time and wait for an opportunity to arise. It would be too risky to set out that day for the castle of the MacBrydes, and she knew that her family would be watching her closely.

  “Their castle, ‘Tis nae that far from here, is it?” she asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible, “but yet we speak of them as a threat, though from my knowledge nay MacBryde has ever attacked as an enemy or worried our crofters.”

  “We keep an uneasy truce. But nay, their castle is nay far, about ten miles across open country. We let their crofters live in peace, and they let ours dae so too. ‘Tis the English who are warmongers and against which we must be on our guard at all times, ye hear me?” her Godfather said, and Evie nodded.

  “Aye, I hear ye, but …” she began.

  “Oh, Evie. Nay more, we have heard enough about the MacBrydes. Now, be a good lass and go help with the milkin’ or collect the eggs from the hens. Let us hear nay more about the MacBrydes this day,” her mother said, shaking her head.

  “Aye, very well, mother,” Evie said, and she finished her breakfast in silence.


  But Evie could not rid herself of her growing fascination for the MacBrydes. She kept thinking of Hamish, his handsome face and noble features, the kind words he had spoken, and her own dismissive tone. If there had truly been no danger from the MacBrydes in all these years, then what was left of the quarrel between the clans? It concerned her parents, her grandfather even, God rest him in his grave. These were arguments of the past, quarrels clung to because each side was too stubborn to see the change in the other. Evie was determined to speak with Hamish again if only to thank him for rescuing her.

  Perhaps that one small act of kindness could be the beginning of something more, and if she could help bring peace to the borders, then she knew she must try to do so. She hated living at Kirklinton, in the dark and foreboding castle of her grandfather, the threat of war hanging over them like a shadow. If peace came amongst the clans, then perhaps peace too might return to her heart, and she could return to the Armstrong castle, the place where she had been so happy as a child and which now seemed but a distant memory. She would bide her time and wait for an opportunity. She was unable to rid herself of the image of Hamish MacBryde standing by the stream and watching her run away. What a fool she must have seemed to that nobleman, and she caught herself off guard with idle thoughts as to his person. Had she felt an attraction to him, even in fear of her rescue? It was a strange thought and one she knew she must keep to herself. But, as the days wore on, she found herself dwelling ever more upon Hamish and the hope that she would soon see him again.

  Chapter Seven

  Evie’s opportunity came just a few days later. She had been entirely obedient to her mother and father since her return from Caitlin’s croft and had assumed the role of dutiful daughter, helping with the animals and running errands about the castle.

  The day was bright and breezy, wisps of white cloud scudding across the moorlands and not a hint of rain in the air. It was still early in the morning, and Evie was sitting with her mother in the Great Hall. They had just finished at the spinning wheel, balls of newly spun wool piled high in a basket at their side, and her mother sat back with a look of satisfaction on her face.

  “There, now that is a good job done, enough wool for the mending and to keep yer brothers in some newly made clothes,” Isla said, smiling at Evie.

  “Aye, ye see mother, when we work together, we can dae much,” Evie replied.

  “Aye, that is quite true, Evie. Ye are a good help to me, lass. Thank ye. Now, would ye run an errand to Lochrutton for me? There will be little time to bake the bread over the next few days so go and buy some loaves from Maggie Macleod, she bakes on a Wednesday and sells what is left, just like her mother Cora used to dae,” Isla said, handing Evie a silver coin.

  “May I walk the long way, mother? I would like to look across the Lanercost from the top of the moors. I like to imagine Uncle Duncan at prayer,” Evie said, and her mother nodded.

  “Aye, ye can walk that way. But Evie, daenae be away too long, ye hear me? I daenae wish for a repeat of last time. Ye can be out for the day, ye have proved yerself a good lass these past days, but nay more runnin’ off, ye hear me?” Isla said.

  “Aye, mother. I promise. I shall walk up onto the tops and then down to the village for the bread. I shall be back by nightfall,” Evie replied.

  “I am sure Maggie will sell ye somethin’ for yer dinner too, her mother always made such delicious pies. I will never forget the taste,” her mother said, smiling at Evie, who nodded.

  She hurried from the Great Hall, clattering down the steps and almost colliding with Rory, who caught her by surprise.

  “Oh …” she exclaimed.

  “And where are ye goin’ in such a hurry?” Rory asked.

  “On an errand for mother. She says she had nay time to bake this week, and I am to go to Lochrutton for the bread,” Evie replied.

  Rory nodded.

  “Aye, well, just be …” he began.

  “Just be careful, aye, I have heard the same from mother and nay doubt the same from Sweeney when I see him in the stable yard shortly. I can look after myself,” she replied.

  “Just daenae go crossin’ any streams,” her brother replied, smiling at her.

  Evie gave him a withering look, and before he could say anything further, she hurried off down the stairs and out into the courtyard. She could see her Godfather in the stables beyond but not wishing for further admonishment she crossed to the gates and let herself out onto the track, closing the gates behind her. Her heart was racing, for she knew that she was embarking upon a deception. But in the days that had passed since her encounter with Hamish MacBryde, her curiosity had been growing.

  She knew the rough direction in which to walk to arrive at the castle of the MacBrydes. There, she would hope for a glimpse of Hamish and thank him once more for rescuing her. She felt a little nervous, now that she was on her way to see Hamish, but there was something about him that attracted her. Physically, she found him attractive, but as she thought back to their encounter by the stream, there had been something in his mannerisms too, the way he looked at her, as though he had wanted to say more. On that day, she had been far too scared and cold to respond, but now she realized just how foolish she had been. He fascinated her, and whether the enemy or not, at least according to her family, Evie had every intention of thanking him.

  She crossed the moorlands, pausing at the gnarled old tree at the fork in the path, into which she had hidden his cloak. It was still there, folded up as she had left it, and she shook it out, wrapping it around her shoulders against the cool breeze blowing across the moorlands.

  She glanced around, lest anyone had followed her, for she did not trust Rory or any of the others to entirely believe her story. Her father, in particular, had cast her suspicious looks in the past few days, and she knew that Rory was watching her closely. Still, her mother had trusted her enough to let her make the walk to Lochrutton, and she had bought herself enough time to hurry across the moors to the MacBryde castle and back before nightfall.

  The path across the heathers was unfamiliar to her, and it took sometime before she found her way. She was quick and nimble upon her feet and thought nothing of walking miles in a day, as she often did when she wished to be alone. Evie had always enjoyed the solitude of the moorlands, a landscape of wide-open skies and ever-changing vistas. The rolling hills seeming to stretch endlessly on into the horizon, where now a purple shimmer hung above the moorlands, as the sun cast its rays down from above. But summer was turning to autumn, and despite the sun, the wind was cool, and she was glad of Hamish McBryde’s cloak around her for warmth.

  On she went, following the path east, where she knew the MacBryde castle to lie. She had never seen it, for her parents had always spoken of it as a place to be avoided, a dark place of secrets and home to cruel and heartless men. No doubt precisely the same thing which the MacBrydes had told their own children too. She wondered what she would find when she got there. Would she see Hamish and be able to speak with him? Her curiosity was growing by the minute, and she hurried on along the moorland path.

  It would be a simple enough thing to do. Thank him for rescuing her and apologize for her misguided fear towards him. She would explain that throughout her childhood, she had heard stories of the MacBrydes. Stories that would make anyone’s blood cold and that it was because of that that she had been scared. Now, she realized such thoughts were foolish, and she had come to make amends. Then, she would return home through Lochrutton and purchase the bread for her mother. No one would be any the wiser, and perhaps she would have contributed to a thawing of relations between the two clans, albeit secretly.

  She was so lost in these thoughts that as she came over the brow of a hill, she did not immediately see the group of men gathered in a dell below her. The heather grew thick here, and trees ran along the course of a stream, by which the men had kindled a fire. It was they who saw her first, and she was startled by a cry, as several of them raced towards her. There was no hope in r
unning, though at first, she did, turning on her heels and racing back across the heathers. But the men soon caught up with her, grabbing her and pulling her back.

  “What is all this then?” one of them said in a gruff Scots accent, pulling her roughly around to get a look at her face.

  “A bonnie lass that is for sure,” another replied, “where are from? What is yer name?”

  Evie made no reply, for, despite herself, she was shaking with fear. One of the men gave her a suspicious look, as though guessing her origins.

  “She is comin’ from the west, and Elliott dae ye think?” he said, and the others muttered their exclamations.

  “Are ye an Elliott then, lass?” another said, “speak up now, tell the truth.”

  But still, Evie remained silent, and soon they became exasperated, pulling her roughly along with them and back down to the fire below.