The Highlander's Secret

by Jennifer Siddoway

  Eamon raised an eyebrow in surprise, then clicked his tongue in thought. “Ye’re right, Conrad never should have spoken that to ye like that,” Jain’s father told her. “I’ll speak to Keenan about it in the morning and let him ken about Conrad’s inappropriate behavior.”

  Jain gritted her teeth at the memory. “Right before it happened, he asked me to change yer mind about his marriage proposal. As if I would ever have him to begin with.”

  Eamon scoffed. “Lass, ye ken that will never happen. Yer Uncle Keenan wouldn’t allow it, and neither will I. Ye’ve got nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I’m not afraid of him,” Jain snapped, pacing back and forth across the living space. “I’m angry. I’m furious that he can just get away with anything. He looks at me as if I were a piece of meat. It’s disgusting.”

  “I dinnae understand why he keeps persisting,” Moira said. “Ye already spoke yer piece. He should be done with it. A clever lad like him should be able to take a hint.”

  Jain shook her head, and let out a tired sigh. “It’s not even about that, he just wants to prove that he can get anything he wants. The only reason he’s interested in me to begin with is because I told him ‘no’. That’s what set him off in the first place.”

  Jain knew perfectly well that Conrad had no qualms about breaking rules or using intimidation to try and bully his way to prominence. Men like that weren’t used to being told “no” and the rejection spurred him to put Jain on his radar as a trophy to be acquired.

  Jain shook her head, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “He’s getting bolder by the day, Da. On top of the fact that I’m convinced he had something to do with Heather disappearing. What do we do?”

  “We dinnae ken what happened to Heather,” Eamon told her.

  “I saw them at the festival,” Jain sputtered in disbelief. “He’s been talking her up fer weeks. Ye cannae ignore the facts—”

  “I’m not,” Eamon responded firmly. “But there’s nae evidence to suspect him yet. The search parties came back empty handed. Unless there is a body to prove foul play, I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Conrad—”

  “Is a despicable human being, but he’s also an asset to the community. Keenan is going to need more than a hunch to accuse one of his warriors of murder. While ye’re in public ye will keep yer mouth shut about it, ye understand? I won’t have his men coming after ye.”

  She hung her head in shame and whispered, “Sorry, Da.”

  Eamon patted her on the knee and said, “Moira and I just want ye to be safe. I ken ye’re not too keen on the idea of marriage, but it’s something that I want ye to consider seriously. Having a man always there to protect ye could come in handy.”

  Jain opened her mouth to protest when Eamon stopped her.

  “It wouldn’t have to be Conrad, there are plenty of other men in the village. And…we both ken ye have a fondness fer the young blacksmith.”

  Moira chuckled. “Good luck convincing her of that, my love. I’ve been telling Jain fer weeks that she should make her feelings known, but she’ll have none of it.”

  Jain blushed, looking away from them in embarrassment. She could have guessed they picked up on her fondness of Alan. Everyone else in the village had. For some reason, hearing it come from her mother’s mouth was different. It held weight that hadn’t been there previously. “I dinnae know what ye’re talking about.”

  Moira smiled knowingly, crinkling the skin around her eyes. “I think ye do,” she chided. “Why do ye think I ask him to come around so often? Alan is a fine man and ye could be happy together. I ken I tease ye about him, but it’s the truth. I’ve seen the way ye look at each other. Ye cannae hide from love forever. Ye should have someone to share a life with, someone who will appreciate that fire.”

  Jain nodded, glancing up to meet her da’s gaze. His eyes were tired but thoughtful as he rested his chin in the palm of his hand. Moira patted her on the knee and stood to put another log on the hearth. “Ye may not realize it yet, but I think yer mam’s right – ye love him. At least ye could if ye’d allow yerself to feel it.”

  Jain shifted her weight uncomfortably at the change in conversation. “He would be a good match,” she conceded. “If I ever did get married, it would have to be someone strong, but gentle. I’d rather die than be bound to that stinking, arrogant fool like Conrad who only views me as a piece of property.”

  “I already told ye, Jain, that’s never going to happen. I would bet my life on it.” Eamon cleared his throat when Moira left and moved close to tell Jain softly, “If ye do care about Alan the way I suspect, if ye’re willing to build a life with him, then ye have to tell him who ye really are. He should ken the truth. Nae marriage can have such dangerous secrets.”

  The tenor of his voice felt like a gallon of ice water had been thrust upon her. A chill crept into her heart that had not been there before, fear at the risk of losing Alan. What would he do if he knew the truth about her? Would he accept it and love her all the same? Or would it change him, and ruin their time together?

  She stared back into her father’s eyes. They bore into her with gentle insistence and knew he would not be denied.

  Jain desperately wanted him to know the whole story of how she came to be here, about how her parents died, but the thought of losing the friendship and love they had for one another broke her heart into a thousand pieces.

  No one, not even her mother knew the whole story of her heritage.

  ~ * ~

  Jain lay awake in bed long after the others had gone to sleep, thinking about what her father said. Aileen’s gentle yet raspy breathing sounded quietly on the pallet beside her, the dark waves of her brunette hair spilled out across the pillow. Every now and then the girl would cough, causing Jain to frown. She worried the change in the weather was taking its toll on Aileen, bringing the ailment back again. Jain promised herself she’d make a mustard plaster in the morning and encourage her to rest. It was the only way to keep the illness from spreading. Part of her was still upset about what happened earlier.

  Damn Conrad and his games.

  She felt bad for having snapped at Alan earlier, and her father too. They were only trying to help. Her insides felt twisted up in knots and she couldn’t sleep. Eamon had suggested she tell Alan the truth about where she came from. In her heart of hearts, she knew that he was right. Alan deserved to know that truth. He deserved that and so much more.

  It wasn’t fair for her to keep the secret from him.

  At the same time, it was unsettling to think about how it might change things. She’d known Alan for a few years now. Telling him now after all they’d been through felt like more of a betrayal than if she’d been honest with him from the beginning.

  She didn’t want him to feel betrayed, like she’d been lying to him all this time, but it was actually the truth. She and her father had gone to great lengths to keep that secret from the clan. Jain hated that it could potentially come between them. Perhaps she was in love with him like her parents said.

  Jain didn’t know how she felt about him anymore. There wasn’t a word to describe it. All she knew was that it felt like pain when he wasn’t near her. If she went a day without talking to him, her soul became heavy and it could only be soothed by remedying the distance between them.

  She’d never thought of him as a husband, more like an extension of herself.

  It would be so easy for her to fall in love with him. She could see it all unfold in her mind’s eye. They’d settle down with a couple of bairns—raise a family. A lifetime could change a man, but would he always be so gentle and understanding? All of these questions racing through her mattered not, if his affection for her wasn’t strong enough to withstand the might of her secret. She was a Viking, enemy to Clan Gordon. Would his love give way beneath the weight of clan prejudice?

  She cared for him, and she wanted him to understand the truth about her lineage. Jain went back and forth about it in her mind,
whether or not to tell him. That was both thrilling and horrifying at the same time.

  Alan deserved someone sweet and gentle who would be a good wife for him. Jain wasn’t either of those things. Her hair was in constant disarray and she was always saying the wrong thing. Even so, Alan didn’t seem to mind. He looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next day, Jain made her way through the winding lanes of Elign with a basket resting on her hip. She’d fallen into a deep and restless sleep after her conversation with her parents. When she woke up Jain still had a lot to think about, so she decided to go for a walk to clear her head and restock a few supplies they’d run out of in the kitchen. They used to say that she’d been “kissed by fire” when they first brought her into the village. It was in reference to her hair, but Jain didn’t like the association – it reminded her too much of what happened along the coast.

  Her shoes padded down the dirt path, past the cottages toward the keep in the center of the village.

  Eventually, she came to the road where Bruce’s smithy was located. To avoid seeing Alan, she took one of the side streets that went along the kitchens instead. She kept thinking about what Eamon said, “If ye really care about him, then ye have to tell him who ye really are.”

  He was right of course, but she didn’t know how to broach the subject.

  As she came to the kitchen door along the back, she caught the smell of some meats pie and bannock that were cooling just inside. Out of habit Jain went inside to say, “hello”, and maybe steal a piece of bannock while she was in there.

  Her hand was on the door when a conversation across the road pricked her ears. She angled her head towards the men to listen and heard them talking about a raid that had taken place.

  “It’s the strangest thing,” one of them said in astonishment. “They took food and supplies but left everything else intact. It’s like a completely different group of Vikings than we’ve encountered in the past. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I thought they stayed by the coast,” another argued. “Are they moving inland? It doesn’t seem possible.”

  “It would seem so. We should call fer aid from the surrounding clans before it’s too late. Keenan has to do something, or they’ll be on our doorstep in nae time at all.”

  Jain’s heartrate picked up a bit at the news and she started walking through the square. In her rush she nearly ran headlong into Keenan and lost her footing. “Whoa there, lass.” He caught her with his arm.

  Jain gasped, stepping back on her heel and staring up at him in shock. “Uncle Keenan. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  He gazed down at her while she regained her balance. “Dinnae worry about that, Jain. Where are ye going in such a rush?”

  “Just to buy some ingredients for a mustard plaster,” she responded with a blush. “We’ve run out at the house and Aileen has fallen ill. Moira needs some willow bark for her tincture as well. On my way back I was going to pick some wild flowers to cheer them up.”

  Keenan sighed, his expression darkening slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that Aileen is ill, especially with her mam gone. She’s a fearless woman, my sister – with the heart of a lion. I gave up a long time ago, trying to reign her in. I just wish she wasn’t away from home so often.”

  Jain smiled at him, even though what he said was true. She admired her aunt’s ability to come and go as she pleased. For all intents and purposes, she was a free woman and unbound to any man. She cleared her throat before speaking. “Ye dinnae approve?”

  The chieftain sighed. “Nae, I do not. Any other woman in her position would have remarried by now, or would be content assisting Lady Bridget in the keep. Instead, she goes gallivanting off fer days, sometimes weeks at a time, and I worry.”

  Jain hesitated. “Mayhap she doesn’t wish to be bound to another man, or remain idle in the keep, doing needlework day after day,” Jain suggested.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do ye mean?”

  “She is not an old woman. She may have many years left to her life. Ye think her ambition strange, but she delights in having a purpose, and no one could deny the benefit her work brings to the clan.”

  Nora’s travels increased their coin substantially, by taking beautifully decorated garments, trinkets, and woven baskets made by widows in the village who would have otherwise been unable to contribute to their community. Nora put herself at risk and did the legwork to make their ventures profitable.

  Keenan stared at her for a moment while he appeared to be considering that. “Ye admire her.”

  Jain nodded, swallowing the lump that was rising in her throat. “I do, very much. And ye dinnae need to worry about Aileen. Moira and I will take good care of her.”

  Keenan patted her on the shoulder and stepped out of the way so she could continue. She exhaled nervously before walking down the path. After she took a few steps, her uncle called after her and said, “Oh, Jain?”

  “Aye, my laird?” she asked, turning back to look at him.

  “Pick some fer me and Lady Gracie as well, won’t ye? I’ve got a lot to do with the search fer Heather going on. It would bring me joy to look at, which I could sorely use at the moment.”

  Jain curtsied and then hurried off down the path. Keenan was always so kind to her, and she cared about him dearly, but part of her wondered if he would be as generous with his praise if he knew the whole truth about her. It was his job to uphold the law and protect the people – all the people. If Keenan ever found out she was actually Norse she might be exiled from the clan. Norsemen, Vikings, were despised and outright hated after the destruction they’d wrought. Her uncle was a good man, but fierce with judgment. The elders were not prone to sentimentality. They had to be practical. Not even Moira knew the truth about her lineage—only Eamon.

  She didn’t look back until she was leaving the village.

  Jain left the road she was following came to a cresting hill. She let out a tired sigh. Everything she could see was green, rolling land of the Scottish Highlands. The ground was scattered with heather blossoms and thistles, which was the reason for her voyage.

  She sat, looking out across the valley to the river running down between the hills. Every time she saw the running water it made her yearn for the fjords of her home back north. The small village her family came from was right along the coast. The cottages nestled in the mountainside up against the water and the men would catch fish to feed their families. Everyone in their village sailed, they were shipbuilders and voyagers at heart, and that call of the sea stuck with Jain as well.

  Jain’s mother had taken ill when the men were gone one summer on a raid. When her father came home she was already dead. After that he started taking her with them on voyages across the sea vowing to never leave another one of them behind.

  It devastated her father to know that in his efforts to provide for his family back home, he still could lose everything without being near. He wouldn’t let his greatest treasures out of his sight again, so on the next year’s trip, all three children were along for the ride. While it was not unusual to bring the young men and boys to learn and assist, little Jain too joined them on the long, harrowing journey, with extended bouts of boredom and toil punctuated by spates of terrible excitement.

  For years, Jain travelled with them on the sea, learned the way of sailing and stayed out of the way when the men fought. For a girl, she was unusually adaptable to ship life and made herself useful in any way she could. Occasionally, she even took up the sword herself. She asked for one of their craftsmen to make a special sword fashioned just her size, but her father refused. He told her that if she was going to wield a sword she would do it properly, or not at all. In the beginning Jain had difficulty lifting the weapon until her arms were strong enough. Her father would just chuckle and remind her it was fortunate they didn’t use the same long swords as the English.

  Her fath
er and her older brothers, Ragnar and Leif, would practice with her until she was strong enough. They hoped she would never have to fight, but if the time came she would know how to defend herself.

  It wasn’t until they came to Scotland in hopes of starting a new settlement that her seafaring life was over.

  Jain remembered crying out in terror at the sound of clashing swords while her kinsmen prepared themselves for battle. Strange men rode over the hill on horseback with axes and torches held high, screaming furiously as they approached. The Norsemen were strong and fought bravely to protect their land, but were unprepared for the vicious backlash of the local clan. Her father had shouted for Jain to hide before he threw her in their house. The walls had not yet been finished, and a beam of wood had fallen across the floor with a hammer and nails around it. While her kinsmen fought, Jain crouched in a tiny space beneath her bed and watched through cracks in the wood.

  They’d only made landfall a few weeks before. It wasn’t like their other expeditions. They’d brought women and children with them.

  They fought savagely, defending their home as best they could. Jain had scuttled into a crevasse and watched them attack each other. Many of the brave men died right before her eyes. Bjorn and Hakkon went down in a single blow, a swordsman cut through one and then the other. She saw them fall and leave crimson stains on the earth below.

  The next thing she’d smelled was smoke as men set fire to their cottages and destroyed everything her kinsmen had worked so hard to build. Throughout that battle, none of them fought more bravely than her father. When he saw them light the roof of his own house, he attacked with vicious fury. The horrible man who helped destroy their settlement had the higher ground. He rode by on horseback and ran Erik through with a sword.