by Aileen Adams
The thought left Heather feeling alone. She spied a large spruce tree and crawled beneath the lowest hanging branches, seeking shelter from the breeze, and privacy to wallow in self-pity.
She reached the trunk and then leaned back against it, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs.
Peering out from beneath the branches of the tree, she sensed her own isolation, physically and emotionally. For the first time since she and Sarah had arrived at Duncan Manor, she truly felt like an outsider. Not only an outsider of the Duncan clan but an outsider in every way.
A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another.
Her sister didn't understand her. Couldn't seem to comprehend her desire to stand up for herself, to protect herself, to be independent. Not to have to rely on anyone to protect her.
Her shoulders began to tremble, and another quiet sob bubbled upward. And then the tears came.
She wasn't sure what hurt most; her sister's inability to understand her or Jake breaking his promise not to tell anyone about her secret.
She had never felt so crushed. It wasn't just embarrassment or even humiliation. She knew enough to understand that Jake had not divulged her secret out of a sense of mean-spiritedness or to be cruel. He did worry about her safety. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it?
No one believed that she, Heather MacDonald, could take care of herself. She was no fool. She knew that women were vulnerable. Even men were vulnerable, but she was trying to do something about it. She didn't want to feel this way. Didn't want to feel like someone always had to take care of her, to protect her, or to shelter her away from harm.
She wanted to be independent. But how could she be?
Women were considered the property of men. While she wanted to take care of herself, she had no skills that would enable her to do so. Sarah would've been able to. As a healer, Sarah did have a livelihood that she could rely on to put her roof over her head and clothes on her back.
Not like Millicent, who now needed to rely on the kindness of the laird or her neighbors to provide her with warmth, food, and shelter.
And she?
She didn’t want to be like Millicent.
But what did she have to offer anyone?
And how could she fend for herself if no one let her?
She fell asleep.
10
Jake rode quietly on his horse behind Hugh and the others, his emotions surging from extreme disappointment and anticipation.
Phillip and roughly a dozen clansmen had arrived with Maccay late the previous afternoon.
After filling in the others on their discovery and sighting of Ceana, they had all spread out to engage a thorough search for Ceana and at least two members of the McGregor clan.
Their determined efforts had failed. Other than the brief sighting and a barely visible trail of three horses meandering upward into the rugged hills over the valley floor, no further sighting or indication of the presence of Ceana or the McGregors, or anyone else for that matter, were seen.
They had spent yet another chilly, damp night in a small glen, Jake sitting hunched as close to the fire as he dared.
The pain in his leg was close to taking his breath away, throbbing incessantly with no relief. He had pushed himself too hard. He did not want to contemplate the truth of the matter.
True, Sarah had told him to be patient, but he began to worry that he would never be able to perform his duty as a soldier began. With every throb of his damaged, aching muscles, his anger against Ceana grew. He had broken her heart, and so she had ruined him. Not emotionally, but physically. He wasn't sure if he was strong enough to overcome his new limitations.
The camp was still, the clansmen sleeping, Phillip beside him, lying on his back with his arms crossed behind his head.
Jake sighed, knowing that he should try to get some sleep as well. He was tired. He rearranged his position, wincing at the pain that shot up from his thigh and into his hip. He swore under his breath.
“You will tell Sarah to make you a poultice when we return to the manor.”
He made a face and looked down at Phillip, but merely nodded. No sense arguing.
He couldn't hide his discomfort from his brother. “When I get my hands on that woman…”
“You will have to wait in line,” Phillip said. He spoke quietly. “Jake, Maccay told me what's going on with Heather. Are you sure it's wise to teach her the use of weapons?”
Jake's head snapped up, and he frowned, growling deep in his chest. Damn, he hadn't told Maccay so that he could tell everyone—
“Maccay told me that you specifically asked him to keep a close eye on Heather. I asked him why. He knew better than to lie.”
Jake said nothing.
“Again, I ask. Do you think it's wise to encourage Heather to learn how to use weapons?”
Jake scoffed. “I'm not encouraging her. She was already trying to learn on her own. But it's not a bad idea for a woman to know how to defend herself.” He looked pointedly at Phillip. “Don't you agree?”
“Of course I do,” Phillip said. “Actually, I think it's a very good idea. At least the rudimentary aspects of protecting oneself. This winter, why don’t you come up with some sort of a plan to teach the village women? Those that want to learn anyway. Show them how to be more aware, to be safer in their environment, in the woods. Maybe even teach them a few knife skills. I don't find anything wrong with that.”
“But?”
“But how far has this gotten, this training you've undertaken with Heather?”
Jake said nothing for several moments. “She was already sneaking off in the middle of the night to train with one of the village lads,” he said. “I followed her once, found her learning how to sword fight.”
He paused and shrugged, staring into the dying flames of the fire. “Well, with a wooden sword,” he amended. “I confronted her. Stressed the danger of her to be roaming around about by herself at night, unarmed. One thing led to another. I thought I could teach her the right way and keep an eye on her at the same time. Good idea, don't you think?”
Phillip thought quietly for several moments before looking at his brother. “You like her, don't you?”
He shrugged. “Of course. She's my sister-in-law—”
Phillip’s low laugh interrupted. “You know what I'm talking about, Jake.”
He grinned. “Aye, I like the lass. But she's troubled, Phillip. That's another reason I'm trying to help her.”
“Troubled? In what way?”
“She's trying to find her own place in the world. In this clan. As a woman.”
“I don't understand. She has a place in the manor house. For as long as she wishes.”
Jake formulated his thoughts. He didn't want to divulge exactly why Heather wanted to learn weapons. “Remember when I told Father that I was joining the King’s men fighting the Norsemen?”
“Of course I do. The ensuing arguments nearly brought the house crumbling down around our ears.”
“And you remember why you, don't you?”
His brother didn’t say anything.
He continued. “Father couldn't understand my desire to leave. My desire to make my own way, to find my… I don't know what you want to call it—a passion? Something that I felt so strongly about that I couldn't do anything else?”
Phillip nodded. “He said that your place was beside me, learning how to rule the clan, to protect Duncan lands, and to make sure that the villagers were safe, productive, and well cared for.”
“Aye, but despite my position as the laird’s son, and knowing that I had a place, even though you, being the oldest would become our father's successor, I had to… needed to… find my own place in the world. Something that I was good at.”
Phillip slowly nodded. “Heather's trying to do the same, isn't she?”
“She's trying to find something that she’s good at, Phillip. Her sister is a healer with a reputation that knows no borders. Heather’s jus
t trying to be different, to be independent.”
“You do know that in any other place other than our home, that your teaching Heather how to fight with weapons would be considered quite scandalous.”
Jake scoffed. “I don't give a rat’s arse what anybody else thinks. If learning how to fight with weapons is what gives Heather a sense of confidence and self-worth, what's the harm in it?”
Phillip said nothing.
As they rode back toward the manor to the north, their horses slowly picked their way along the rock-strewn bogs and marshlands, over the soggy soil of the hillsides, and the increasing cloud cover that heralded an approaching late fall storm. He tried to distract himself from the increasing pain in his leg.
While disappointed that they had not managed to capture Ceana, he was a bit relieved. At least this way Phillip would be the one who decided her fate. He didn’t want to carry hatred of her in his heart, but every bolt of pain that shot through his thigh served as a blatant reminder of her treachery. She needed to pay, but with her life? That was not up to him.
His inner conflict left him feeling discouraged and uncertain.
He and Phillip had grown up with Ceana. They had played together, laughed together, and sometimes even fought together. Her parents had died long ago. Maybe that's why she had begun to pay him more attention before he went off to fight the Norsemen with the king. She was seeking security.
Why hadn't he seen that then? Because he’d been too busy strutting around with his chest puffed out, proud that the beautiful healer had made it clear to everyone whom she was attracted and attached to. Then again, that attachment hadn't stopped her from flashing her smile or cocking an eyebrow at any other male who showed her a bit of attention.
It was during his first visit home after joining the king's men that he noticed how demanding Ceana had become. She was not shy about hinting that he should marry her.
He realized now that she had felt the need to solidify her position as his woman, his wife. He didn't understand what was so important about that. Not then and not now. As a healer, Ceana had been respected. She came from a long line of healers. She may not have had the extraordinary skills that Sarah had, but she was effective.
Looking back, he realized that despite her skills, Ceana was insecure. She wanted—always wanted—something just beyond her grasp. She had chosen him. At first, he had been flattered, but his instincts had told him, eventually, that their match wasn't as ideal as he thought at first. As he gradually pulled away, she became more aggressive. Not physically, but many times she had tried to use her womanly wiles and her beauty to her advantage.
Sometimes he succumbed. Other times, he didn't, and when he didn't bend to her will, he caught the first glimpses of her true nature. Eyes that lost their luster and turned cold and empty. That disapproving downward turn of her lips; not a pout, but close to it. Narrowed eyes. The way her fingers would clench into tiny fists by her side, as if resisting the urge to strike out.
As he thought about it, he realized that in many ways both Heather and Ceana were dealing with the same issues: uncertainty and lack of self-confidence. But they dealt with it in two different ways. Heather sought to improve herself. Ceana had just turned bitter.
He felt he could help Heather. The fact that he was attracted to her, even though he tried to hide it, didn't hurt. Heather didn't need him for anything except to teach her how to use weapons. She had made no demands of him beyond that.
Did he want her to make any?
He grunted.
He wished it weren’t so, but he was no good to anyone in his present state. Lame and damaged. Heather was a beautiful, kind, good woman. She had a good heart. She deserved more than he could offer. While the thought was sobering and frustrating, he accepted it.
It was late afternoon, near toward dusk by the time the riders approached Duncan Manor.
Jake needed to find Heather, to tell her that he had not intended to divulge her secret, but with Ceana and possibly members of the McGregor clan in the area, he wanted to make sure that she stayed put and didn't roam off into the woods at night or venture alone in her meadow.
Her meadow.
He wasn't surprised that he thought of it that way. Just thinking about her standing in the meadow under the moonlight brought a smile to his face.
The smile faded from his lips when he realized that she would likely be angry with him. He had told Maccay to keep an eye on Heather, not to spread it about. When Maccay had asked why the extra scrutiny, he had felt obliged to let him know that Heather was rather fond of sneaking off at night to train with weapons in the meadow behind the manor house.
Unfortunately, Maccay had told Phillip.
If Phillip knew, then chances were that he had said something about it to Sarah. And then Sarah would ask Heather about it. If that had happened, Heather would certainly believe that he had betrayed her trust.
He needed to speak with her, to assure her that what he had done had been out of concern for her. She might not feel that way, but that's simply the way it was. He hoped that she wouldn't do something foolish. Still, the closer they got to the manor house, the more he realized that Heather was most likely going to refuse to speak to him. Of course, she would believe that he had betrayed her, maybe even told others about her aspirations.
Perhaps she believed that Duncan clan’s men would laugh at her, that villagers would point and snicker as she passed.
He needed to talk to Maccay, make him promise that he would tell no one else about this.
The same with Phillip.
He needed to reassure Heather that no one else would know, but… he sighed.
He wasn't sure what to feel about it all. He felt bad, but he didn't feel guilty. He would never feel guilty for doing something that would enhance Heather's safety.
How she felt about him now was something else.
* * *
By the time Phillip and Jake entered the manor house, it was early evening, and darkness had fallen over the forest. A cold supper waited on the table for them. Sarah heard them arrive and quickly ventured downstairs.
“Phillip, did you see Heather out there? She ran off, angry, and I haven’t seen her since.”
He shook his head. “Leave her be, Sarah. She’s fine. Maybe hiding out in the stables or—”
“She might be asleep near the meadow,” Jake offered, then abruptly closed his mouth, cursing under his breath.
Sarah frowned but after she hugged Phillip, looked carefully at Jake, and then pointedly at his leg.
“You're going to let me make a poultice for you tonight, aren't you?”
“Aye,” he grumbled. He glanced around with no doubt that Sarah knew who he was looking for.
“We need to talk,” she said, glancing between the both of them. “Privately.”
Jake muttered under his breath, but knew that the sooner they got this over with, the better. He nodded and glanced at his brother was a lifted brow.
“In there,” he said, gesturing to the room where he took care of most of his business.
Soon the three of them were ensconced in the small room.
No one sat.
Phillip quietly closed the door.
Jake stood with his back to the door, arms crossed over his chest.
Sarah stood near Phillip’s mahogany desk, leaning her hip against it, her arms also crossed over her chest. She scowled at him.
“What?” he asked, in no mood for this.
“Heather.”
The throbbing in his leg was not helping his increasingly foul mood. He glanced between both of them.
“Fine. Apparently, Maccay told Phillip that I was helping teach Heather to use some weapons and how to defend herself in the meadow behind the manor. And he told you.” Once again, he glanced between the two of them.
Jake cast an accusing look at his brother. “That message was meant for Maccay alone. It was not his place to tell you.”
Phillip shrugged. “I told Maccay
to take another group of armed men and patrol the northern borders. He seemed hesitant. I asked him why. Only then did he tell me what you had directed him to do.”
Jake wasn't happy about it, but he knew that Maccay had only told Phillip of Jake’s concerns about Heather's safety because he would not be remaining at the manor house. “And of course, you told Sarah.” It wasn't a question but a statement.
It only took one chagrined look from Phillip to get his answer.
“She heard us speaking, heard Heather's name, and wanted to know what was going on.”
“If you're going to blame someone, blame me,” Sarah spoke up. “And for that matter, I want to know what in heaven's name you were thinking, to agree to train Heather in the application of weapons!”
Jake turned to Sarah with a frown. “She's been sneaking off into the woods in the middle of the night. By herself. Unarmed. What would you have me do? Ignore it?”
“Why didn't you come to me when you discovered her behaving in such a manner?”
“If you must know, I wanted to discover what she was up to.”
“And you discovered that she was pretending fighting out in the meadow with one of the village lads? Who?”
“Does it really matter?” Jake challenged. “She's got her mind set on learning how to defend herself. Is that so horrible?”
Sarah stared at him with wide eyes, as if the answer should be obvious.
Apparently, they both felt differently about it.
He continued. “Sarah, she does need to learn how to defend herself. Wouldn't hurt for you to take a few lessons either, or for any of the other village women.”
Sarah opened her mouth ready to disagree when Phillip held out his hand.
“Let's not argue about this.” He glanced at his wife. “Actually, Sarah, that in itself is not a bad idea.”
Sarah said nothing, but offered a terse nod. “I agree. But why in heaven's name has she been sneaking off to learn how to fight? She knows that she's protected here, that she's safe.”
Jake heaved another sigh. “She feels quite strongly about it.”
