The Highlander’s Awakening Lairds of Dunkeld Series)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Me too, mostly,” Alf nodded. “I like going to places. Seeing things.”

  “Racing, sometimes,” Ambeal admitted.

  Alf laughed. “Racing! Me too. Though I wouldn't like to race against you, milady. I wager you're fast. And my horse needs training.”

  “Oh?”

  “He speaks mostly French,” Alf said.

  They both roared with mirth. The thane frowned at Brodgar.

  “My lord?”

  “Yes?” Brodgar asked, closing his eyes a moment, sure he was in for a rebuke. How dare you bring your impudent friends here to court my daughter? Or something like that.

  “You're sure you want to stay for the hunt?” he asked. Brodgar blinked.

  He hadn't realized it, but during his distraction with his friend's conversing, he must have agreed to something.

  “Uh...I'd be delighted,” he said. The instant after he'd accepted the invitation, he closed his eyes. That was stupid. Now you might be stuck here for over a week! When is it, anyway?

  He glanced sideways at the thane, but he was talking to his daughter now. He decided he couldn't exactly ask, since he'd just agreed.

  He glanced across at Alf, hoping he could help. On second thought, no.

  Alf was sitting there with a silly smile on his face, looking at emptiness. He was as if struck mad. Brodgar shook his head. He felt his cheeks lift in a smile. He loved his cousin as if he were his own flesh. However, sometimes he could take a pole-axe to his hard skull. Like now, for instance.

  “And what say you, Alf?” the thane asked. Brodgar had missed hearing his question and so had Alf. Evidently. He blinked slowly.

  “Sorry, sir?” he asked. “Miles away.”

  The thane laughed aloud. “No matter,” he said lightly. “I was just asking if you'd prefer to borrow a stallion or mare. We have good stables.”

  “I understand you have one of the finer stables in the district,” Brodgar put in courteously.

  “Oh, very fine,” the thane exclaimed. “Fine indeed. Only yours exceed them, Lord Brodgar. The stables at Dunkeld are well-stocked, and your horses even better trained than ours, I think.”

  “Only when they speak French,” Ambeal put in. Her father roared.

  “Yes! Only when they speak French. Oh, fine joke. Yes, indeed.” He slapped a big hand on the oak-planking of the table in admiration.

  Ambeal smiled at Alf. “Alf here was telling me they had success with a cross-breed – the destriers with local stock.”

  “Oh?” the MacDonnell stared at her in surprise. “You've trained them, too?”

  “We have,” Alf agreed. He leaned forward, talking avidly to the thane. Brodgar found himself left momentarily alone. He watched the three at the table and, sipping ale, smiled warmly.

  I might as well not be here, he thought with some satisfaction. The three of them could have lived like this for ages. I'm the odd-one-out.

  The thought was pleasing. For himself, he had no desire to become connected to the MacDonnell. His heart was otherwise occupied.

  The more the evening wore on, the more Alf warmed to the conversation, and the three spent more time talking together than Brodgar spent talking to any of them.

  Later, when dinner was cleared away and the drinks finished, a small plate of cheese circulating to end the courses, the thane cleared his throat.

  “I shall retire, I think,” he said. “If we're going to hunt the day after tomorrow, I'd best meet with my verderers soon to discuss it. Early in the morning suits best. Though Heaven alone knows why. These fellows do insist on rising at ungodly hours to carry out their duties, so...” he shrugged and gave a lovely smile to his daughter. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  “Goodnight, Father,” Ambeal said, standing. “And I think I should retire as well,” she added. “Much to do tomorrow. Greetings.”

  She was addressing both of them, but studied Alf.

  Alf swallowed, looking down at his hands. He and Brodgar both stood and stammered their goodnight.

  When they were alone in the hallway, ready to retire for the night, Brodgar looked at Alf. “Friend,” he began, concernedly.

  “Don't say anything,” Alf dismissed. “Just don't say it. It's bad enough being in this mess as it is. I don't need your comments. Yes?”

  Brodgar sighed. “Alf, my friend. I sympathize,” he said softly. “Aren't we here because I'm in love? With someone unsuitable? Why shouldn't you and Lady Ambeal be...” he paused as Alf let out a bit, shuddery sigh.

  “Brodgar, coz; I'm finished.” He sighed. “I never...I never felt like this. It's strange.”

  Brodgar grinned. “Now you know how I feel,” he said with a laugh. “At least I know I'm not the only one suffering. It makes it better.”

  “Does it?” Alf asked skeptically. “Myself, I'm not sure. I only know that I...oh, ballocks. I don't know what I know anymore. I'm so confused.” He sighed.

  Brodgar grinned. “It's supposed to feel like that, I think.” He nodded. “At least, that's how I've felt all week. Since Henriette arrived.” He stopped, feeling his throat tighten with feeling just thinking of her. “Come on,” he said hoarsely. “Let's get some sleep. It seems like I talked us into staying a few days, at least.”

  “Not sure it's good,” Alf murmured as he followed him into the big chamber that had been set aside for their use. “A few days of this, of seeing her, and...” He sighed. “Not sure I'll be the person I was when I arrived – or if I can leave without leaving half that person behind. Anyhow,” he sighed. “I'm being daft.”

  Brodgar smiled fondly. “No, you aren't,” he said kindly. “Or anyhow, we're both daft.”

  “You're always daft,” Alf said, grinning as he sat on the bed and drew off his boots. “But I love you like my own brother.”

  Brodgar smiled, feeling his heart warm at the comment. “And I love you like a brother, too, Alf. Now, we'd better get some sleep. It seems we're in for an early morning.”

  As he lay in the darkness, the ruddy glow from the fire the only light in the room, Brodgar found himself lost in thought. He and Alf were both in love with the wrong people: he was supposed to wed Ambeal, and, if Alf took it into his thoughts to try and court Henriette, everyone would rejoice. However, as it was, it was the other way around.

  I wonder, Brodgar thought, unaccustomedly restless, if we could exchange. He was almost completely certain his father would disagree, but as he closed his eyes, he heard a phrase. Trust, Alina's voice said, a whisper on the edge of his mind. It is what you need to do.

  He sighed. She was right. He should have known. Should have guessed she would be right. She always was, after all. Trust wasn't such an easy thing to do after all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AN UNEXPECTED PROBLEM

  AN UNEXPECTED PROBLEM

  Ettie tiptoed into the solar early the next morning, lured there by the scent of oat porridge and fresh-baked bannocks that wafted, enticingly, through the open door. She had found it hard to sleep that night, tossing and turning in bed. Despite Alina's sudden friendship, and the closeness she felt to Chrissie and Amice, she was still ill-at-ease here. Moreover, with Brodgar gone, she found she could not rest.

  Waking early, she had summoned Brenna, the maid, and dressed in a soft blue- and cream-colored gown, one made in the latest fashion. She headed downstairs, shivering in the cold breeze and reached the solar, entering it quickly. She walked to the fire, and then stopped as she heard something at the table.

  She had thought she was the only one about so early, but Lady Amabel was there, sitting at the far side of the table. She was alone, meaning she and Ettie would be sitting down to breakfast together, if she were to stay.

  “Oh...” Ettie turned, about to leave. Amabel called out.

  “No. Come, Henriette.”

  She felt her heart thud painfully in her chest. The last thing she had expected – the last thing she wanted – was a confrontation with Lady Amabel. However, it would have been shockingly rude to leave
, having been noticed. She sighed and walked in further. “My lady, I...I didn't mean to disturb. I'm sorry,” she said softly. With the apology came a host of others, not spoken. Sorry for invading your house. Sorry for disturbing your peace. For whatever it is that makes you disapprove so.

  “Not at all,” Amabel said lightly.

  Ettie swallowed. Drew out a seat, the one where Amice usually sat. Took a breath. Trust. “My lady?” she asked, feeling a lump in her throat and forcing out words.

  “Yes?” Amabel said, reaching for the pitcher of milk that stood beside her.

  “My lady, what have I done that offends you? Please, tell me? I hate to think I am unwelcome here, or that my presence in the house troubles you so.”

  Amabel's green eyes widened. “No, dear!” she said. She reached out and patted her hand. Her own fingers were long, the joints prominent, rings on three of her fingers, big and golden. “You haven't offended me! Heaven forbid.”

  Ettie felt herself relax. “But, my lady. If I have, please say.”

  “No, child,” Amabel smiled. She had a nice smile, Ettie thought. Warm and easygoing. “You haven't done anything wrong. I'm sorry if...” she closed her eyes, thinking. “I suppose I have been remiss. It's not you. It's...my plans.”

  “Oh?” Ettie reached for the butter, adding it to her bowl of steaming porridge, then reached for salt to stir in.

  “I should explain,” Amabel said. “This is the right time to do it, too. We can be as frank as we need to be, you and me.” She smiled.

  Ettie swallowed hard. “Please do be.”

  “Well,” the green eyes sparkled. “My family would tell you not to ask me to be too frank. I'm sure my bluntness offends all of them heartily sometimes,” Amabel chucked. “But here it is. You see, Brodgar is promised.”

  Ettie felt her heart drop into her shoes. Was this what Alina had been speaking of? The trials? Trust. “He is?”

  Amabel nodded. “Since he was a baby,” she explained. “Or thereabouts. You see,” she paused. “Our family has an enemy. The MacDonnell. Your uncle might have mentioned it? The feuds were happening during his stay.”

  “He mentioned something similar.”

  “Oh, good. Then you know, at least a little, of what transpired, and why the hate has grown. What devastation the past wreaked on us.”

  “A little,” Ettie agreed. Her heart was still in her shoes, sinking lower progressively. What Amabel told her made her lose hope. Hope. All the possibilities.

  She swallowed and listened as Amabel continued.

  “Well, we promised Brodgar to wed the daughter of the current thane. He is a progressive sort. I hope so. We have high hopes for him, and for the ending of our troubles. Brodgar and this wedding will bring us peace. Or so we hope.” She smiled fondly. “Oh, don't look so sad. You see, when you arrived,” she paused. “I saw Brodgar change. He doesn't want this marriage. You have his interest.” She chuckled.

  “My lady...”

  “No, don't disagree there,” Amabel said, teasing. “I know my son and I recognize that look all too well. He has his eye on you. I can't let that happen. You see why? Now you know why I'm so awkward.” She sighed. “I'm sorry.”

  Ettie looked at her. Even though her words cut her, she could find it in her heart to feel sympathy for the proud lady who sat before her. “I'm...I'm sorry,” she said in a hushed whisper. “I did not know anything of this matter. I thought...”

  “Of course you didn't,” Amabel said, patting her hand again. “I know it's not intentional. You didn't exactly tell the obstinate youth to fall for you.” She smiled, showing pointed teeth.

  Ettie chuckled, though sadly. “I suppose not.”

  “You suppose aright,” Amabel said firmly. “Now, the best thing to do is have a good meal. Then you and I can sit together and think our way through this problem. Now you know what it is, perhaps we can come up with a solution together. Sound good?”

  “Yes...”

  Ettie stirred her breakfast, feeling utterly miserable. She had woken apprehensive, but hopeful. Now she felt as if that hope had been blown apart by a stone shot from a sling. She was hopeless.

  All the possibilities. Well, this one seems like it's no longer possible. I may as well give it up.

  She sighed.

  “Henriette?”

  “Yes?” she looked up, dull, as Amice appeared. Her friend was dressed in unbleached linen, her red hair loose down her back. She was smiling.

  “We decided to dance today,” she said, inclining her head at Aunt Chrissie and Blaine, who had just arrived in the doorway. “With the gathering coming up, Aunt Chrissie said we need practice. And I, for one, agree. Isn't that going to be so much fun? We'll get the fiddle player up from the village, or perhaps the piper, and spend the afternoon in the great hall together.”

  “A fine idea,” Amabel said approvingly. “Though if it's old Norries, I swear I'll go deaf.”

  They all laughed, Ettie frowned.

  “The village fiddler,” Aunt Alina explained, sliding soundlessly into the seat beside her. “We all have an endless vendetta against him and the three tunes he plays expertly and incessantly.”

  “Yes! If I hear, ‘Lady, Wilt Thou Be Mine’ again, I'll go mad!” Amice declared. They all laughed.

  “Mayhap we can persuade him to branch out,” Alina said, reaching for a bannock, which she buttered lightly, breaking bits off to eat.

  “If t'were possible, we'd have done it ages ago.” Amabel nodded.

  “Always a first time,” Chrissie piped up.

  “With Norries, there's never a last time.”

  Everyone roared with mirth at Blaine's comment. Ettie smiled. She wanted to join in the witty banter, but she couldn't find it in her heart to try. She was miserable. It felt as if the beautiful future she had allowed herself to imagine had been cast from the rampart. She was left with shattered shards, and no way to mend.

  “Trust.”

  Ettie turned to Alina, with a look of total amazement. “Sorry, Aunt?”

  “Toast, I said,” Alina said succinctly. “These bannocks are overcooked,” she added, indicating the one she held, which was charred a little.

  “Oh.” Ettie blinked. She was sure she had said something else. “Sorry. They are.” She shrugged. As she sat, listening halfheartedly to the talk of the gathering and the preparations still made, she considered it. Trust. If the future was a ladder to some uncertain place, the only way to climb it was by having faith that it led somewhere that would make you happy.

  Maybe Brodgar is the thing that would make me happy. Maybe not. She sighed. She would do everything she could do, and trust that wherever the ladder led was somewhere good. After all, why shouldn't it be?

  All possibilities are possible.

  She heard the words as if Chrissie said them in her ear. As it was, she was halfway down the table, doing a fair approximation to the latest court dances while still in her seat. Amice, seated opposite, was laughing in delight. Blaine watched happily.

  They all look so excited about the gathering, Ettie thought emptily. But I have no reason to be excited, now, do I?

  She glanced at Amabel, who was buttering an oatcake, seeming pleased. She was laughing with Broderick and Duncan, who had just arrived from some expedition to the forest, and seemed happier since relaying her concern.

  I wish I felt relieved as well, but no. She almost wished she hadn't decided to ask Lady Amabel what was concerning her. Knowing made her so miserable she wished she could leave.

  If I did leave, where could I go?

  Uncle Heath was her only other home. He wasn't at home, but up in the north, training the knights. She had to stay here. The other possibility, of course, was seeking refuge at Lochlann, the home of Joanna, Amice's older sister.

  She glanced at Amice, who beamed. “You'll help me learn the quadrille? Oh, please say yes, Ettie! It won't be half so much fun without that...”

  Ettie smiled, doing her best to look as if she wasn't
sad. “I will.”

  “Oh! Hurray!” Amice said, looking back at her and then turning to Chrissie. “Explain it again, do, please, Aunt?”

  “Well,” Chrissie began, sighing. “First you need to start with your hands up, like this. Lean back on your back foot, then step forward...”

  As Chrissie explained the dance-moves again, Ettie found her attention wandering. She felt someone's eye on her and turned to see Alina looking at her. There was compassion there if she chose to accept it. She nodded.

  Alina nodded back. Ettie could almost swear she heard the woman's voice speak to her mind. Trust. I didn't say it was easy. You can do it. I believe in you.

  Ettie smiled at her. She inclined her head again, and then looked away as Duncan cleared his throat.

  “My lady? You would accompany me to the forest later?”

  “Of course, Duncan,” she agreed. “I have a mind to be out of doors. I wouldn't mind a hand with gathering some vervain, either...” She glanced meaningfully at Ettie, who flushed. Being asked by Alina to help with her work, however slightly, was an honor. She was about to agree when Amice protested vociferously.

  “Oh, Aunt! Not now...please? I need Ettie to help me with the dances! You can have her tomorrow.”

  Amabel smiled at Ettie with real warmth in it. Ettie looked up and then at her hands again.

  “Well, dear. You can't possibly feel unwelcome. We want you sorely.”

  Ettie smiled. “Thank you.” She looked at her plate, feeling a lump in her throat that made it difficult to swallow.

  I wish that were true. I wish that everyone wanted me. Everyone and Brodgar too.

  She sighed. Whether she and Brodgar wanted each other was probably immaterial at this point. She was not even allowed to consider marrying him, and nor, it seemed, was he for her.

  She finished her breakfast in silence and, as she left the hall, felt her arm grabbed by Amice.

  “Come on, sister!” Amice said cheerfully. “You don't mind if I call you that, I hope?” she asked, pretty face scrunched up earnestly. “I want to dance!”

  “I'm coming,” Ettie nodded placidly.