Highland Mists: A Highland Romp

by Hildie McQueen

  To the side of the stables there was a circular stone fixture, from the center of it a bright fire. There beside the fiery heat stood the blacksmith. His long hair was tied back with a leather strap. About his chest and waist a thick leather apron. In one hand he held a hammer in the other metal tongs holding a red-hot tipped piece of iron. Rivulets of perspiration dribbled down his temples as he studied the item he worked on. Unable to keep from staring, she noted his muscular arms and strong stance.

  He was breathtaking. Not just his body, but also his face. Even the facial hair could not hide his handsome features.

  Just then his dark gaze lifted to her and she felt her own widen at being caught watching him. His eyelids lowered just enough to let her know he found her study of him annoying, which made her considered dashing away. Instead she lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

  The hammer fell upon the iron in his other hand the resounding bang echoed in her own chest. He continued with pound after pound, promptly ignoring her.

  "Lady Emma, is there something I can do for ye?" The man she recognized as the leader of the guard approached and stopped a proper distance away.

  "Nay. I was just curious as to how the fire and iron work. Tis quite entrancing is it not?" She smiled at the guard who upon close inspection proved to be quite attractive, yet he did not peak her interest in the same way the blacksmith did.

  "I have to admit to watching Paden work at times. He is a very good blacksmith, but be wary. Ye should keep yer distance milady. I wouldna like to see ye harmed in any way."

  "Harmed?" She looked back to the blacksmith who continued to ignore them. "What kind of a harm do ye speak of?"

  The guard seemed to search for a reply, his gaze scanning the ground. "He is not a kind man. Has a fiery temper."

  "Oh." She couldn't help but steal another glance to the handsome man. "How do ye mean?”

  The guard scowled in the blacksmith’s direction. "Aye milady, tis not the thing a man can speak to a lady about. Just know tis best ye keep yer distance."

  Emma nodded and glanced back at the blacksmith. Something didn't seem right. But instead of asking more questions she shrugged. “I will check on my horse then.”

  The guard walked with her to the stables keeping his body between hers and the blacksmith. Emma wanted to roll her eyes. It was obvious the blacksmith cared little what she did and would not react to her being in the stables.

  Finally left on her own, she went to her gentle mare and brushed her hand over it’s mane. The horse responded by nudged at her side hopeful for a treat. Emma chuckled.

  “Ye are lucky. I happen to have a carrot, just for ye.”

  Once she gave the horse it’s treat, she guided it out to the stables. One of the stable lads rushed to her. “I can do it milady. Forgive me for not taking her out earlier.”

  Emma smiled at the boy. “Do not worry. She is happy to be indoors or out. Tis I who makes her venture out. My Daisy is quite easy to please.”

  Once the lad walked off with her horse, Emma headed back to the main courtyard. She ensured not to look in the direction of where the blacksmith continued to work.

  A young woman watched over a group of six children and Emma decided to assist. “Are they all yers?”

  The woman looked up and smiled. “Goodness no. They belong to two of the women who work in the kitchen. I am the caregiver since I cannot stand for long.” The woman pointed to her back. “I fell off a cart months ago and hurt my back.”

  “I’m Emma. I’ll sit and help you for a bit. Tis too nice a day to be indoors.”

  Once again the woman smiled. “I am Nell.” She motioned to the bench. “Sit with me.”

  From the bench where they sat, Emma had a clear view of the stables. She noted Dugan and the blacksmith talked with the familiarity of a close friendship. The guard laughed at something the blacksmith said while looking in her direction. Emma narrowed her eyes. Were they talking about her? Perhaps it was because the guard had lied to her to keep her away from the blacksmith.

  The guard had lied in order to keep her away. Why?

  At the evening meal, she'd find a way to speak to the blacksmith. There was something she had to know. If he was a member of the family in Skye, it was possible he was to be an important part of her life. That she would find him after all this time had to be fate.

  The way her every instinct came to life and her body’s reaction was not just because he was handsome. It was something different altogether. She was meant to know him, for whatever reason the two of them would speak and once that was done, she'd know for sure what was to come.

  Then again, it could be that she'd just found someone that would keep her interest while in Moriag. She wasn’t shy about her body’s needs although most of the time she’d kept any liaisons to one or two times at the most.

  Now that she was to remain in Moriag for a season, she would not lose the opportunity for some enjoyment.

  Her father intended for her to consider remaining in Moriag permanently. He wanted her away from the threat of a clan conflict between their clan and another. However, Skye was home and it beckoned her to return. No matter what happened, she would return there. For the moment, she’d play along with her father’s plans after all he was doing what he could to protect her.

  Emma let out a sigh. If she was to be away from home and all she knew for the foreseeable future, she may as well find a bright spot in all of it.

  At last meal, trenchers piled high with choice cuts of meat and root vegetables were placed on the long tables. It had been a long time since Paden had seen so much food. He usually ate in the village pub or a small meal he cooked in his cottage.

  Deciding to keep from being noticed as much as possible, he sat at the table with some of the guardsmen. Here with them, it would be easier to blend in with them, and not attract the attention of the visiting clan.

  Head bent over the food on his trencher, Paden kept from looking to the head table. Once the meal was over and he would slip away at first chance.

  Skye was the one place he preferred never to think about. But it seemed that no matter how long one was gone from a place, people always remembered. Being that he’d left behind after a particular battle, it was even more memorable.

  Then there was the similarity of the men in his family. Perhaps he was not as familiar to them or they’d never met him, but the resemblance of men within his clan was uncanny.

  The guardsmen drank tankards of ale, but none drank enough to become drunk. It was obvious everyone at the McNeil keep was aware of the visitors and did not wish to take a chance at making a bad impression for their laird. Or perhaps it was that bad news was brought which meant they’d be prepared for threat of some type. He hated not knowing, so he looked across the table at one of the archers. Paden had no way of knowing the reason for the McNeil’s of Skye being there.

  “Do ye think the visit had a purpose other than just family visiting each other?”

  The guard slid a glance toward the high board where the laird and visitors sat. “They never come without bad news. The Campbells have attacked their keep.”

  No further explanation was necessary. Paden’s own clan in Skye had been under constant threat from the strongest clan in the Highlands. The Campbells, just the uttering of the name made his jaw clench.

  At the high board sat the laird, his wife and the visitors. Paden refused to look for the laird's niece. The pretty lass had been bold in taking notice of him, which could prove to be disastrous for him. The last thing he needed was to garner the attention of a woman from Skye, even worse, the laird’s own niece.

  It was also worrisome that one of the visiting guards thought him familiar. Thankfully the man had been too busy to question him further.

  "When are the visitors leaving?" Paden asked.

  Another archer shrugged. "I believe they will remain but a few days. However, it could change. The laird's brother will likely return to Skye soon, he doesna like to be away for long."
<
br />   A part of him yearned to return to Skye as well, but he'd never be able to see his homeland again. Not unless he could find a way to prove his innocence for the dead he’d left behind. Other than some sort of miracle occurring, returning home would never come to be. Sometimes he considered returning even if it meant he'd be hung without question and presumed guilty.

  He deserved to die. No matter the reasoning, he’d left like a coward in the night overwrought by sorrow and in that moment he’d not considered how it would appear.

  One of the men said something jarring him to the present. The eating and drinking continued. Several families approached the high board to speak to the laird, taking everyone’s attention.

  When everyone at the head table were engaged by a family that approached, Paden stood and stalked to the nearest doorway.

  He walked from the great room to a side corridor so he could leave through a rear doorway and avoid running into anyone.

  "Paden Fraser?" A female voice made him stop. A cool hand rested on his arm and he turned to who ever it was.

  From the shadows, a maid peered up at him. "Aye I am Paden. What happens?"

  "My lady asked me to find ye and ask that ye meet her at the side garden. She will head there shortly."

  "Who is yer lady?" Although he suspected, Paden asked hoping for a different answer.

  "Lady Emma," the maid replied curtly. Obvious the maid did not approve of her lady's assignation with a mere blacksmith.

  "Tell her..." Paden was about to ask the maid to tell her mistress he would not go, but thinking more on it, he decided it was best to meet with the woman and put a stop to the nonsense. It was not something new. He was aware most men would consider it a blessing to be as handsome. However, his bonnie face was often the reason Paden found himself in unpleasant predicaments.

  "Tell Yer mistress I will be there. Please ensure she is not followed," he told the woman who swallowed visibly and nodded when he moved closer looming over her.

  "Very well, I will." By her wide-eyed expression, the maid found him intimidating.

  He stalked to the garden and scowled into the darkening sky. Why did he always end up in these situations? Whatever the lass wished to speak of, he'd find a way to be curt while somehow managing to not be disrespectful. Spoiled women of station could be vengeful.

  Just a few moment’s later, soft footfalls sounded and Paden crossed his arms waiting for the lass to appear. He refused to move from where he stood even though he heard her stumble and curse softly. He wanted to laugh when she huffed. "Mr. Fraser, I cannot see. Are ye out here?"

  He stepped out from where he leaned on a wall. "I am." Once again he crossed his arms and stood with his legs spread. "What is it that ye wish to speak with me about Lady Emma?"

  For a moment she blinked as if shocked by his curt tone. "Is it true ye are a cruel and hard man?"

  "It is not my job to be friendly my lady. I prefer to keep people at a distance. I am not cruel however."

  She walked closer and for an instant Paden almost lowered his guard. "Lady Emma, I must ask that ye refrain from seeking me out."

  Instead of unease, she seemed intrigued. "What if I told ye, I'd like to get to know ye?"

  Her direct gaze pinned him and Paden couldn't formulate words. Something was different about the woman. A strange pull to her was hard to fight, but somehow he managed. "It would be a bad idea Lady McNeil. A huge mistake, especially with someone of my lower station."

  She nodded and bit her bottom lip in thought. “I know I am being bold Mr. Fraser, but I feel as if fate has brought ye to me.” When he started to turn away, she reached and touched his forearm.

  A chill crawled up to his chest and a curse left his lips at his reaction to her touch. “Lady Emma, don’t.”

  "Perhaps. Think on it.” She interrupted. “Ye can remain here at least one more day. I will send ye word of where to meet me again."

  "I won't come." Paden kept his eyes locked with hers. "I am not some sort of toy for ye to use at will Lady Emma."

  Her lips curved drawing his attention to the enticing view. "No?"

  He let out a slow breath. "No."

  "We will see Mr. Fraser. What fate sets to happen cannot be denied." She hurried away instantly disappearing into the darkness.

  Paden waited a few moments before walking to the guard's house to seek his bed. There was much work to be done the next day; hopefully.

  Lying on the cot, Paden stared at the ceiling in his small room. On the cot across from him a guard snored loudly, obviously the man had just completed his shift and would rather sleep than eat.

  What was he going to do to avoid Emma? She had to be dissuaded and he had to find a way to do it.

  It had been an event filled day. The Laird's niece took notice of him and wasted no time in her pursuit, the farmer demanding Paden marry his daughter and one of the guards from Skye found him familiar.

  If he were truly a smart man the best thing would be to leave Moriag during the cloak of darkness and not look back.

  Chapter Four

  "Emma dear, did ye hear me?" Her mother's voice snapped her out of her musings as she stood by the window peering down into the courtyard. From her perch, she had a perfect view of the stables where smoke wafted though the roof. He'd worked steadily all day long. It was a wonder to her how the man could continue the steady pace of making horseshoes while instructing men to assist with the horses.

  He was a haunting reminder of her young love who'd died so many years earlier. Instantly upon thinking of Larkin, her chest constricted. She missed not only him, but his easygoing nature and quick wit.

  “We must find ye a suitable husband. Do not forget Emma. Tis one of the reasons ye will be here for a season.”

  At three and twenty, she’d managed to avoid marriage. At three and twenty, she was well past her time to marry and her parents were losing patience. Not that she’d buried her heart with Larkin, but she continued to wait for someone who would make her feel as cherish.

  "Emma?" This time her mother came closer. "Whatever is the matter?"

  Emma shrugged. "Did ye see him? The blacksmith?"

  "Aye I did. As soon as ye saw him, yer countenance changed. Upon noting his features, I knew why he affected ye so." Her mother pulled her close. "Because he has a striking resemblance to Larkin does not mean he will be the same sweeting. Besides, the man is but a blacksmith, not a laird's son."

  "I know."

  Her mother pulled her from the window. "Yer father and I leave two days hence. Do not make me worry. Promise me, ye will stay away from the man. He will take yer constant regard the wrong way. Larkin is dead. Nothing nor no one can bring him back my sweet."

  “I cannot help it. My heart hurts when I see the blacksmith and yet, I cannot stop watching him.”

  Her mother let out a long sigh of understanding.

  Her aunt entered. “There is much to do to prepare for last meal.”

  They joined her aunt to discuss plans for the following night's festivities. At the thought of music and dancing, Emma's mood lightened. Perhaps she could get the man, Paden to dance with her. For a few moments, she could pretend he was Larkin.

  No she was mad. It was a most horrible idea. Her mother was right. If she pursued him, he would take is like a open invitation for more than just a dance. How to explain to him?

  She continued to ponder what was best until her mother pulled her back into the conversation. Emma pretended not to notice the pointed look her mother gave her.

  At the evening meal, the blacksmith was not present. Every time someone entered the room, Emma searched to see who it was. Mealtime was coming to an end he had yet to appear.

  It was for the best that he did not make an appearance. She was torn. A part of her wished to hear him speak, to see if he sounded like Larkin. And although she’d stopped longing for Larkin a long time ago, a part of her remembered how special he’d made her feel.

  There was a ruckus and several soldiers ent
ered laughing and slapping each other on the back. Her uncle watched the procession with curiosity before going to join the men.

  It was then she noticed Paden Fraser. He was among the latecomers. The guard Dugan regaled her uncle with what seemed to be a comical by the laird laughed and touched Paden’s shoulder, seeming to congratulate him on something.

  She noted that throughout the revelry, Paden remained reserved, his smile almost reluctant.

  Her uncle motioned for tankards and lifted his, getting the entire room's attention. "Here ye! Today we have someone among us who has brought Lasitor, the headstrong horse to heel! All raise yer tankards to Paden Fraser, the blacksmith!"

  The men drank and cheered while Emma looked to her aunt. "What is that all about?"

  Her aunt watched the goings on with amusement. "Yer uncle bought a horse several months ago. The animal is horrible, allows no one near. It has never been ridden, much less shoed." She chuckled. "Men are such boys at heart. I suppose it means Paden managed to either ride it or shoe it."

  Her aunt shrugged. "Whatever it is, my husband is quite pleased."

  The murmurs died down and everyone returned to their meal.

  Emma’s father looked on with approval, but then losing interest began to eat. One of her father's guards neared and leaned into his ear.

  "Although his last name is Fraser, does he not look like a MacLeod? I would wager he is a son of the laird. The one that disappeared years ago."

  Her father's gaze immediately traveled to where Paden now sat. "Aye I see the resemblance. However, I am sure this man is from Moriag, therefore cannot possibly be a MacLeod."

  The guard took his leave. Emma looked to her father. "Why do ye really think the McLeod’s son disappeared?"

  "Only he knows for sure. Some say out of guilt for killing his brother. Others believe he was taken prisoner and killed as well."

  She'd heard whispers of Stuart McLeod, a great warrior, who'd never been bested in battle. The first born of Laird MacLeod had been formidable with the sword and bow.