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

by Kenna Kendrick

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Hamish made his way slowly across the moorlands. He hardly noticed that it had grown dark, the snow swirling in a blizzard around him. He felt angry at being confronted in such a way.

  Who does he think he is to tell me, the Laird of the MacBrydes, that I may nae see his sister? I love her, and she loves me, is that nae enough? He thought to himself.

  The lights were burning faintly in the castle below, but Hamish had little desire to return. He ambled down the path, the thick drifts making the way difficult, and he cursed as he slipped on an icy rock.

  Darn these rocks, and this snow and ice, he said to himself, picking himself up and standing for a moment looking down into the valley below.

  All he wanted was to have Evie at his side. But now, the possibility of it grew ever more remote. Would he see her again? Would she be bold enough to go against her brother and meet him by the stream in the days which followed? He felt hopeless, as though any chance of his happiness were gone. Evie would surely obey her brother, and Hamish would be left a sad and lonely man.

  Then I must marry, Isabella, he reasoned, for what other choice did he have?

  As he came to the castle, several of the soldiers came out to meet him, informing the Laird that other members of the clan had come that day to pay their respects to his father.

  “And I suppose they too circle like vultures,” he said, shaking his head.

  “They await yer declaration as Laird, sir,” one of the soldiers said, and Hamish nodded.

  “Then it must be so soon,” he replied, marching past them towards the farmhouse, where a light burned in the parlor window.

  He was covered in snow, his cloak almost white. The dogs ran to meet him as he entered, shaking off his cloak and grateful for the warmth of the fire. But he was less grateful to find Isabella sat next to it, and as he approached her, it was clear that she was angry, her face contorted in such a rage that he was quite taken aback.

  “So, you return, Hamish, I trust you fulfilled your duties this day?” she said, and he nodded.

  “I needed to get away from here, Isabella. There are too many clansmen, too many memories. I needed some peace,” he replied, ignoring her angry look and warming his hands by the fire.

  “And did you meet anyone?” she asked, and he looked up with a puzzled expression.

  “What dae ye mean? I went for a walk upon the moorlands. Am I to explain every action to ye? Am I to be subjected to interrogation every time I leave the castle?” he asked, but she shook her head.

  “You must think me a fool, Hamish MacBryde. A fool who has no notion of when a man is lying to her or carrying out a wicked deception,” she said.

  “What dae ye mean, deception?” he said, though now wondering what it was she had discovered.

  “You did not walk alone on the moorlands like some poor lost soul, did you? I know precisely what you did and where you went. You were with her, the Elliott girl, you met her by the stream on the heights. You spent the afternoon with her, you … you kissed her. You kissed her, you wicked, wicked, man,” Isabella said, and suddenly she sprang from her chair, striking Hamish across his cheek.

  He reeled back, startled by the ferocity of her attack as she continued to berate him. She tried to strike him again, but this time he caught hold of her, pushing her as best he could away from him as tears ran down her cheeks, and she screamed at him again.

  “What is the meanin’ of this, Isabella?” he cried, as the parlor door opened, and Crispin MacBryde entered the parlor.

  “There, there, Isabella. There is nay reason to get upset now. But ye, Hamish, ye have acted wickedly towards this lass, and ye should pay dearly for yer actions. I saw it all,” he said.

  “He followed you, Hamish. He saw everything. You and that horrible little wench,” Isabella cried, breathing heavily, her hand raised, as though waiting to strike him once again.

  “I see,” Hamish said, for there seemed no reason to deny it further.

  “So, ye are a traitor as well as a liar and a cheat,” Crispin said, advancing into the room, as the dogs growled.

  “A traitor? For … for kindness? For tryin’ to make peace when the likes of ye want only war,” Hamish said, his hand going to his sword hilt.

  “You have betrayed me, Hamish. How could you even look at another woman? How could you? How long has this been goin’ on for? Since I found the two of you here in the parlor? I should have had her dealt with there and then. The little wench, she is just like her mother. The stories are all true,” Isabella cried.

  “And how could ye treat me in such a way, Isabella? Ye daenae love me, ye daenae care for me, all ye care for is yerself. All ye want is to be married to a Laird and forget any sense of happiness on my part. Ye are nothin’, but a cruel, jealous, and vindictive woman, and I hate ye, Isabella. Ye hear that I hate ye,” Hamish shouted, the simmering anger and emotion which had been building inside him now erupting with such force that she was quite taken aback.

  “You … you wicked man, my family shall hear of this,” Isabella cried.

  “And so will our clan,” Crispin said, “ye are nae fit to be Laird. Ye are a traitor, cavortin’ with our enemy while yer betrothed languishes here. ‘Tis wickedness beyond anythin’ I have seen before.”

  “Ye, Crispin MacBryde, are nothin’ but a fool. Look at ye, skulkin’ around and doin’ her biddin’ like some lap dog. Well, I have had enough of ye all. This betrothal is over, Isabella. I never wished to marry ye, but I would have done so out of duty, duty to the clan I love. But nay more. ‘Tis over now, pack yer things and leave this castle,” Hamish said, as Isabella began to weep.

  “You … you cannot do this, Hamish. My family … my family will break off the alliance, you will be at the mercy of the other clans. You cannot do this to me, how dare you even look at another woman,” Isabella cried.

  “Ye are nae fit to be Laird of this clan,” Crispin growled, drawing his sword.

  “So, it has come to this, has it?” Hamish said, drawing his sword and pointing it at Crispin, “I am nay longer master in my own dwellin’ nor of my own destiny. The alliance between the Musgraves and the MacBrydes is at an end then, Isabella. I shall face the consequences of it, but it seems ye and I have nothin’ more to say to one another. As for ye, Crispin MacBryde, ye may challenge me to the Lairdship. I care nothin’ for it, for to be Laird of a clan which forbids me from lovin’ the woman I have come to love offers nay pleasure to me. I will gladly renounce the title and leave ye to yer fate at the hands of the Musgraves.”

  At these words, Crispin lunged forward, attacking Hamish with his sword. But he was no match for the Laird, and Hamish brought his own sword crashing into that of Crispin, sending his distant cousin reeling back upon the floor.

  “Ye have nae heard the last of this, Hamish,” Crispin said, struggling to his feet, his sword still drawn.

  “Put yer wee dagger away, lad. Save it for someone ye can truly intimidate. I am nae scared of ye, and I am nae scared of nay Musgrave either. I am Laird of this clan, but if I am to be forbidden from lovin’ the woman I have come to love then let it be accursed and left to its fate,” he said.

  “Love? That wench? You speak of love for her when it is to I that you are betrothed?” Isabella cried, and Hamish nodded.

  “I have nay love for ye, Isabella Musgrave. I never have done, search yer heart and ask yerself why ye ever wished to marry me? ‘Tis nae for love, only for yer own personal gain and that of yer wicked family. For too long have we been made subject to the whims and wills of the Musgraves. Nay longer,” he cried and sheathing his sword, he stormed out of the parlor, leaving Isabella and Crispin angry and bewildered.

  So, the choice has been made for ye, Hamish MacBryde, and soon the whole clan will know of yer treachery, he said to himself, stepping into the hall where his father lay in state and pausing in front of the lifeless body.

  “And what would ye have me dae?” he said out loud.

  The h
all was empty, and only a single light burned by the body. Hamish looked at his father’s pale face, his eyes closed and withdrawn. He could imagine the shameful look he would give him, and the cruel words he would speak if it were known to him that Hamish had so fraternized with the enemy.

  But ye are gone now, Father and I am to be Laird, he said to himself, though doubting his thoughts.

  If it were not Crispin who challenged him, then it would be one of the others. Hamish had the support of the soldiers, but the nobles of the clan would seek any reason to remove him and he had handed them a reason on a silver platter.

  Soon, the castle will be overrun by Musgraves, and I shall face their wrath, as well as that of my own folk, he thought to himself, still staring down at his father, laid out in state before him.

  Ye would tell me nae to dae this, ye would call me a traitor. But if we daenae break our alliance with the Musgraves and unite ourselves with the other clans, then what hope dae we have? He thought to himself.

  The sight of his father laid out in state had aroused within him feelings he knew would change the course of everything he had known. His father’s passing was the end of an era, one which would either see the clan thrown into chaos or a new era dawning.

  ‘Tis Evie who is the key to this, he whispered, ‘Tis she who would convince her father of my worth and thus of my resolve to nay longer be an enemy but a friend. With their strength behind me, Crispin wouldnae dare to oppose me, nay one would. I would be unchallenged as Laird, and we would banish these English from our realms.

  He knew the danger which such a plan would bring, knew that he was setting himself upon a course that would see him victorious or fallen upon his sword. But Hamish was certain that his intentions were for the good. With Evie at his side, nothing else would matter, and together, they could be the ones to bring peace to the borderlands.

  His father had his sword clutched in his hands, like an effigy upon a tombstone and on his head, he wore the crown, which was his right. When Hamish was declared Laird, that crown would be removed and placed upon his head. A symbol of the move from death to new life. But Hamish knew he wanted something else. There was no happiness in this, for he had burnt his bridges and set himself upon a new course, one which had only Evie at its end. What happened now, Hamish was unsure, but he could not simply remain in the castle and hope for something to happen, his plan had to be definite, he had to find a way to unite the clans and bring peace.

  I have to go, he said to himself, placing his hand upon his father’s clenched fist over the sword hilt, I cannae stay here, nae now. Let Isabella dae as she wants, let them all dae as they want.

  He felt fatigued, the long walk across the moor, and now this fresh outpouring of emotion. He bolted the door to the hall and lay down upon a bench at the side. His eyes felt heavy, though he could hardly bear to remain in the castle another moment. There was no more disturbance from Isabella, no sound of Crispin or any of the others, and soon Hamish was asleep, his dreams broken by thoughts of Evie and the nightmare he now found himself living.

  Chapter Thirty

  Hamish awoke with a start. It was cold in the hall, and the light by his father’s body had burned out. The air was thick with the smell of dried lavender and animal fat from the candle, a thoroughly unpleasant combination and it made Hamish sit up and swallow hard.

  The stench of death, he said to himself, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

  It was still early, no light coming in from the windows and no sounds above. He had no desire to remain there a moment longer and unbolting the door he made his way cautiously into the parlor. There was no sign of Isabella, nor Crispin. Only the dogs, who looked up sleepily from their place by the now smoldering hearth.

  Hamish threw on his cloak, wrapping it tightly around himself against the cold and made his way outside. He had no intention of remaining at the castle, nor any wish to confront Isabella again. She could please herself, and if she returned with an army of Musgraves, then so be it. Hamish’s reasoning was gone, he could think only of Evie.

  She had roused in him something he had never felt before. No longer was duty important, nor the opinion of others. He felt no sense of loyalty to those who would use him to further their own ends or to gain power at his expense. He hated them, he hated them all. Now, he hurried across the farmyard, calling for the soldiers to open the gates.

  “But, sir, ‘Tis still early. Ye cannae wish to walk out at such an hour,” one of them said.

  “Dae ye question me, lad? I shall walk out when I please, am I nae to be Laird of this place and over ye?” Hamish replied, and the soldier nodded.

  “Aye, Laird,” he replied, as the men opened the gates and Hamish strode through them and out onto the moorlands.

  I will see Evie, if ‘Tis the last thing I dae, he said to himself, as he took to the snowy path, leaving behind his duty in favor of his heart.

  * * *

  Evie could not sleep. She resented Caitlin’s presence at her side and wanted to throw her out of bed. But that would only cause fresh argument, and Evie was wearied of conflict. She had no desire to hurt her family, nor to be called a traitor. But how could she deny the feelings in her heart? They were not something she could simply choose not to feel, nor rid herself of at will. Her love for Hamish grew stronger by the day, he was everything she desired, and the force of her attraction had quite taken her aback.

  Evie had never desired such feelings, nor had she ever felt that they would be hers. To her, men were of no import. She had expressed on numerous occasions, both to her mother and to Caitlin, that she had no intention of marrying, nor of having children. She was not duty-bound to do so, and she was quite happy in her own company and with her thoughts. But all that had changed when she had met Hamish, at first, he had scared her. The prejudices of her family enough to make her think of him as an enemy. But his unfailing kindness, his gentle, peaceful ways, yet strong and noble demeanor, had attracted her, and that attraction had only grown deeper.

  Now, she lay awake, her heart longing for the only man she had ever loved and whom she knew she ever would. It was painful to be separated from him, and she longed to hold him, to feel his strong arms around her and his lips against hers. A shiver ran through her as she imagined him there by her side and the delight and tenderness of his touch.

  I could run away, she thought to herself, imagining her family’s reaction, but they would think I had been kidnapped, taken against my will. They will never understand, nae ever.

  A tear ran down her cheek, and she wept silently, lying upon the bed next to the treacherous Caitlin Macready. She hated her, she hated them all at that moment. How could her family prevent her from loving the one person she truly loved? It was so cruel, so heartless and Evie longed for the day when she could tell them truthfully of the man she loved. The man she wanted more than any other in all the world.

  * * *

  Hamish paused, looking back towards the castle below. Only one solitary light burned in the gatehouse, the rest of the castle shrouded in darkness. It no longer felt like his home, but a strange and alien place, filled with sad memories he would rather forget.

  He sighed, turning his back upon that past and struggling on through the snow. Where he would go now and what he would do were questions he could not answer, but his feet took him in the direction of Kirklinton. He no longer cared about the danger, nor of what would happen if he met with Evie’s brothers or her father. All he wanted was to see her, to hold her, to kiss her, and to know that all would be well if only they could be together.

  I am a fool, a fool for love, he said to himself, imagining Isabella’s fresh rage at discovering he was gone.

  She would surely return home to the castle of the Musgraves and inform her family of his treachery. The treaty would be over, and the MacBrydes be faced with enemies on every side. But Hamish cared not for such things, Crispin could deal with it if he so wished to be Laird.

  The dawn was only just breaking when
he came in sight of the castle at Kirklinton. It had stopped snowing now, the clouds clearing as the sun rose on the horizon. The landscape was white for as far as the eye could see. A vast frozen expanse of wilderness stretching endlessly before him. He shivered, picking up his pace as he hurried towards the castle.

  I daenae care if they throw me into the dungeon. They may dae as they wish, he said, as he came within sight of the gates, around a mile or so further on.

  He was on the track, which led to the village, and as he came to the fork, which led from the castle of the MacBrydes, a familiar figure came into view. It was Rory Elliott, riding on the back of a horse, coming from the direction of Lochrutton. He hailed for Hamish to stop, clambering down from the horse, with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “So, ye were foolish enough to return, Hamish MacBryde. What stupidity, did I nae warn ye of what would happen? I shall have the soldiers called and ye thrown into the dungeon,” Rory said, shaking his head.