by Aileen Adams
Sarah told her to enjoy being pampered once in a while, but Heather felt embarrassed. So determined to rely on only herself, this new situation was incredibly difficult to adapt to. She needed to learn. She knew that she couldn't stay at the manor house forever.
Sarah and Phillip would someday start a new family. She didn't want to be the maidenly aunt. The unmarried spinster that the family took pity upon and allowed to live with them. Someday, she wanted to find what her sister had found.
Love.
In her quiet moments, lying in her bedchamber at night, listening to the quiet sounds of the house as everyone settled in for the evening, the fire glowing softly in her small fireplace, she felt envious of her sister. She wasn't proud of it, but she wasn't going to deny it.
Sarah had always been strong and independent. Why couldn't Heather be more like her sister? Oozing with confidence with everything she did? Her sister had a valuable skill, one that would always be respected.
What did Heather have to offer a man? Or the villagers in her new home? She knew that she could never go back to Kirkcaldy. Not after what happened. No one there knew what happened to Sarah or Heather. Just as well. Let them think what they would. Let Patrick think what he would. He had probably not spared either of them a thought in all the months they had been gone.
The Highlanders were not nearly as brutish as she had been led to believe. She didn't interact with many of them, but maybe, if she pushed herself, she could become more involved with the villagers. Help them in some way to improve their lives. She made a face, staring up at the ceiling. What did they need from her? The laird took good care of them. Sarah would take care of their physical ailments, and the local priest took care of their spiritual needs.
She rolled onto her side, staring at the dying embers of the fire, contemplating her value. She knew what she wanted to do; had thought about it since she was little, but she also knew that she had to keep it secret.
Sarah would be shocked if she knew. Probably refuse to support such an idea. It was a secret that Heather had kept hidden deep in her heart for many years, especially after their mother had remarried. She had been so young when her mother died. After that, all she had known was Patrick's disdain.
But she did remember her father, Gregory. He'd been a soldier, like Jake. She had vague memories of his booming laughter, the way he would toss her up into the air as she squealed with delight, her mother scolding him not to be so rambunctious with his children.
There one day, gone the next, never to return.
“I will avenge you, Father,” she whispered into the darkness.
That was the secret she held so close to her heart.
She wanted to learn how to fight.
By springtime, she would know enough to venture north and join the battalions of soldiers and warriors fighting under the King of Scots against the Norse.
She would avenge her father's death.
She would succeed too, if she had her way about it.
No one knew that she snuck away from the manor, most of the time to the meadow, at other times to other places. She practiced with her bow and arrows.
Weeks ago, she had enlisted the help of a village lad of fifteen who was training under one of the soldiers.
Keith was large for his age. She had seen him training with one of the Duncan soldiers in the meadow beside the pond, learning how to wield the weapons of war. He was especially gifted with the short sword, but was also adept at his archery skills.
She'd watched him for days, saw that he rarely spoke to others and ventured to and from the training ground by himself.
She had followed him one day, and in the forest near the outskirts of her meadow, she had approached him. She tentatively broached the idea and made him a deal.
He was startled at first, maybe even afraid that the laird would find out, but she quickly assured him that she wanted to keep her plan a secret.
She bribed him well to keep it and over the past six weeks, he had.
She asked that Keith teach her archery and how to handle a short sword. When he had asked why, she told him that was for her to know. It was better that way.
Of course he was curious, but the food she snuck out of the kitchen to pay him seemed to settle his queries. He lived with his blind grandmother. The extra food was a blessing.
The sword she practiced with was a wooden one—for now. The battle swords in the armory were much too heavy for her. She was better with the bow and arrows than the wooden sword, as she found the movements for thrusting and parrying and slashing very confusing.
How was she supposed to anticipate what an opponent was going to do? With a bow and arrow, she didn't have to get so close.
Much more preferable.
She and Keith had agreed to meet one day at the end of every week after his training at the meadow before dark. When she asked if anyone questioned him about where he was at any given time, he merely shrugged and shook his head. As long as he provided food and took care of the chores around their small hovel, his grandmother did not question anything he did.
Heather felt sorry for him. She knew what it was like to be invisible.
She had further bartered with him for an old pair of trousers, a shirt, and vest. He even added one of his old woolen caps to the pile for nothing.
When she braided her hair, and left it hanging down to her waist beneath the shirt and vest, the hat pulled low over her head, he told her that she didn’t look like a lady. She avoided getting too close to people in her disguise, but her young friend assured her that she could easily be mistaken for a lad unless someone got too close or actually spoke to her.
Was she being foolish? Perhaps. With a grunt of impatience, she lifted herself off the bed. Still dressed in a dark blue gown and kirtle a lighter shade of blue, she felt the urge to get some fresh air.
She quietly stepped to her door, lifted the latch and opened it, peeking up and down the short hallway.
No one about.
She had done this dozens of times since she and her sister had arrived. She knew exactly which boards made a sound, which steps on the stairway creaked beneath her weight. She snuck out of the house quickly with no one the wiser.
A half-moon and thousands of stars lit the night sky.
She exhaled, her breath misting briefly in front of her face. Winter would soon be upon them. It would be much harder to encourage Keith to venture outdoors away from his warm fire for training. She knew she wasn't ready yet. She would have to offer him some reward for his continued teaching, but wasn’t sure what.
Grumbling with dissatisfaction and a sense of impatience, she quickly rounded the manor house and headed for her meadow. And that's how she thought of the place. Her meadow. It was incredibly peaceful, especially late at night. A good place to think and contemplate her future.
In a matter of minutes, she approached the clearing. Listening carefully, sure that no animals were about, she slowly walked into the middle of the open area, gazing up at the moon and the myriad of stars blazing brightly overhead. With a pleased sigh, she sat cross-legged and gazed upward, finding familiar constellations, feeling that at least some things never changed.
After a few minutes, she lay back in the grass, legs outstretched, feet crossed at the ankles and arms crossed behind her head.
A cool breeze wafted through the grasses, eliciting whispers of sound. A cricket chirped nearby. She shivered slightly, thinking that the next time she ventured out, she would have to wear warmer clothing. She didn't need—
“What are you doing out here?”
She bit back a scream as she jolted upright, searching for the source. Her heart pounded, and her head roared. She felt her stomach harden into a knot when she spied the looming shadow approaching from the edge of the clearing.
She recognized the walk.
The limp.
Jake!
He was following her. She didn't know whether to be insulted or flattered.
“Jake Dunc
an,” she hissed, hoping she sounded more angry than terrified. “What do you think you're doing, scaring me like that?”
His ensuing chuckle surprised her.
“I've been watching you, lass. You've been sneaking about for some days now. What are you up to?”
Days.
He had only noticed her sneaking off a few days ago. Good. Her secret would still be safe.
He stood with legs braced slightly apart, hands on his hips.
“I was looking at the moon.”
“You can't see it from your window?”
She groaned low in her throat. “Can't I do anything without you lurking about? If you must know, I like to come out here when it’s dark and look at the moon, the stars, and find the constellations—”
He looked upward into the night sky. “Do you know them all?”
“No.” She bit back a gasp of surprise when he abruptly sat down beside her.
She heard his barely audible groan as he stretched his bad leg out in front of him, so close to hers that she felt its heat.
“I do,” he grunted, face upturned.
She couldn't see his expression, but she couldn’t help but admire his profile. She never knew that Jake was a stargazer as well.
“Why are you following me?” He turned from the sky and looked at her. She still couldn't see his expression.
“I told you it wasn't safe to be wandering about alone. Like I said, I've been watching—”
“Why?” she interrupted softly.
“Curiosity.”
She tsked. “About what?”
“You,” he said simply.
She thought about that. She believed that her sneaking about had generated curiosity on his part, but she wasn't about to tell him her secret.
“Well, you don't have to worry about me,” she said. “I don't need you watching after me like I'm a baby.”
“I've been charged with the safety of everyone in the manor house and the village, and all the laird’s people. What do you do, sneaking off at all hours of the day? Where do you go? How often do you come here in the middle of the night?”
“That's none of your business.”
“Aye, it is.”
She bit off a sigh and turned her face to the sky. He made her uncomfortable – in a strange way. Not afraid of him, but—
“Does your sister know what you're up to?”
She glanced at him. “There's no need for her to know. I'm not doing anything wrong.” She gestured. “I'm looking at the stars! Why does that matter to you?”
He didn't reply but stared at her.
Though she couldn't see his eyes, he knew that he studied her. Her heart skipped a beat. The breeze carried his scent toward her—of horses, pine, and leather. And something else. What was that? Sandalwood?
For an instant, and an instant only, she felt a surge of attraction. Quickly tamped it down.
“It matters to me because I'm responsible for you—”
“No, you're not. I'm responsible for myself.”
“No, you're not, Heather.” He paused. “Your sister would have my hide if she knew I was aware of your sneaking off and didn’t tell her.”
“You’re going to tell her?”
For the first time, she realized that Jake did, in many ways, have control over her movements.
If Sarah found out what she had been doing, or if Phillip or Jake discovered the truth, they would severely curtail her ability to move about freely. She had no doubt about that. She couldn't let that happen.
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?” she asked.
“You tell me what you're up to. If I believe you're not putting yourself in danger, I may just turn a blind eye.”
“So once again, a man telling me what I can and cannot do,” she grumbled. “Will it always be this way?” She looked up at the stars.
“Tell me, Heather. Where have you been sneaking off to? What are you up to?”
“Nothing!” she insisted.
Frustrated and irritated that he had interrupted her solitude, she moved. She rose to her knees, prepared to stand, but caught her feet in the fabric of her gown.
With a startled cry of dismay, she toppled, right into Jake's arms.
She froze.
Her bosom pressed against his chest, her hands braced against his broad shoulders.
His own arms had reached up to prevent her from falling.
She found herself half-lying on his lap.
Mortified, she tried to push herself away and scramble to her feet, but her knee found the tender parts of his groin.
He bit back a garbled curse. “Damnation!”
“I'm sorry!” she stammered, trying to reposition herself.
This time her hand landed on his rock-hard thigh, but unfortunately, it was his injured one, and he yelped in pain. Again, she stammered a profuse string of apologies.
He cut her off.
“Hold still. Don't move.”
She froze, afraid to move, afraid to hurt him again. While she didn't want him interfering with her solitude, she felt bad about causing his pain. She cringed, empathetic, frozen in an awkward position, her hands still clutching each of his shoulders, her face upturned, mere inches from his own.
His body had stiffened in pain, and she waited for it to pass. Then, before she could even understand what was about to happen, he looked down at her.
She felt the warmth of his breath on her face.
She smelled mint.
He slowly lowered his face toward hers, his arm beneath her shoulders lifting her slightly upward.
Their lips touched.
She was so startled she didn't know how to respond.
His lips were soft and warm, gentle as he kissed her.
She felt the rough stubble on his chin against her cheek, a myriad of feelings rushing through her, startled by her own reaction—the blood thrumming through her veins, the tingle that raced down her spine.
She felt flooded with warmth.
She had never been kissed before, never even imagined it could be like this.
For a moment, she succumbed to the sensations flowing through her. Pressed her lips harder against his own, but then she realized what she was doing.
She was in a clearing in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night, kissing Jake Duncan—
She made a sound low in her throat, but to her horror, it sounded like a soft groan which could easily be mistaken as a moan of pleasure. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and she pulled her head back, instantly missing the warmth of his lips but knowing—
“You don't have to be afraid of me, little rabbit,” he said.
He also pulled his head back and gently set her on the ground next to him.
“I'm not a rabbit,” she muttered.
Her lips tingled, and she resisted the urge to lift her fingers up to touch them. Never in her life had she imagined that kissing felt so wonderful. Of course, she had seen couples kissing, even Phillip and Sarah, but never…
—And her first kiss with the laird’s brother of all people!
He chuckled. “No, you're no rabbit, are you?”
With that, the moment passed.
She felt almost sorry.
“You’d better get back to the manor house, lass, before I change my mind and tattle on you.”
“You wouldn't dare! Especially after you just…”
“After I just what?” he asked, looking up at her.
“After you… after you just kissed me!”
She saw the glint of teeth.
He was smiling.
“I didn't kiss you, lass. You kissed me.”
She barely choked back a gasp of outrage, and, afraid that she would say something that she would regret, she lifted her gown, turned around, and tromped through the high grass back toward the shelter of the trees and the manor house beyond, muttering under her breath the entire way.
Just as she entered the shadows of the forest, she hea
rd soft laughter following her.
“Pompous oaf!”
4
Jake followed Heather back to the manor house, albeit at a distance, determined more than ever to keep an eye on the lass.
She was an intriguing one, for certain. Something about her had captured his interest. It wasn't just the fact that she was lovely and well- formed.
No, it was her obviously complicated personality.
On the one hand, and mainly in the presence of others, she was demure, shy, and always agreeable. At the supper table, she rarely spoke and barely looked up from her plate.
When she was with her sister and didn't think anyone was around, she acted more carefree. He had often heard the two of them giggling and laughing.
He couldn't help but smile when he heard Heather’s laugh. It was dainty sometimes, but at other times, especially when she thought something extraordinarily funny, she would snort in a delightful way that brought a bubble of laughter up from his own chest.
During the past few days since he had become aware of her slithering about, he had seen yet another sign of Heather's personality.
When she was by herself, she was more outspoken. Still, he got the impression that such outspokenness was new to her. Sometimes, she tried too hard.
He only knew a bit about her and Sarah's past. He did know that she had grown up with an abusive and drunken stepfather. Maybe that's why she was trying so hard to appear tough like her sister.
He'd never known a woman to venture away from home so often. To hide under the trees, to lay in a meadow in the middle of the night looking up at the stars and the moon. He was captivated. Enchanted.
And growing increasingly curious.
By the time he reached the manor house and stepped inside, Heather was nowhere in sight.
No matter. He had things to do.
He found Phillip in the small room near the back of the main hall that he used to handle business affairs. He told himself to keep his mind focused on protecting the people over which he was responsible.
In his spare time, however, he vowed that he would find out—eventually—what Heather was doing. Why she was sneaking off so.
