Highlander’s Forbidden Desire: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Well, whoever these people are, we are at their mercy. There is nothin’ we can dae to escape from here, nae that I can see,” Elaine said, shaking her head.

  “We must bide our time. Watch and wait. There will be some mistake made, some opportunity for us. But we must be ready for it,” Finlay said, his face growing grim and determined.

  Elaine had awoken with less of the fear she had felt the night before. Captured by the mysterious woman and bound, she had been terrified. But knowing that she now shared this ordeal with Finlay seemed at least to lessen the burden. With him, she did not feel scared, only angry at the injustice of what had happened and confused by the circumstances in which she found herself.

  She had been overjoyed at the sight of him, given her belief that he was dead. To discover he was alive brought joy to her heart, and Elaine was grateful that she did not have to face this burden alone. Together, they would find a way through it and suffer their misfortunes together. She had missed him so very terribly and mourned his loss most painfully. But now they were reunited, and she found herself with a faint glimmer of hope in her heart.

  To know that she had believed him to be dead gave her a strange feeling of relief now that she had discovered him to be alive. She had mourned for him as more than a friend, a man she had begun to love. Her feelings toward him were different from those she had possessed toward his father, and she had come to think that his loss was a cruel blow to her heart. She had begun to love him, and now that she had found him alive, it seemed that fate had given her a second chance to love him and to know if he felt the same for her.

  “I hope so,” Elaine replied, as the sounds of footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.

  The bolt was drawn back from the door, and Elaine and Finlay stepped back as the nameless woman appeared, flanked again by her soldiers. One was bearing a tray of bread and water, which he laid down on the floor, stepping back as the woman entered the room.

  “I trust the two of ye slept well?” she said, and Elaine shook her head.

  “Of course nae, the floor is hard, the air is cold, and ye send us nothin’ but stale bread and water to eat. Tell us, why are ye holdin’ us here?” she said, and the woman laughed.

  “Ye shall see soon enough, Elaine McRob, soon enough. But prepare yerselves, we leave this afternoon from here. Tis’ nae safe to keep ye in one place for long. News of what has happened at Kilchurn has spread across the moorlands. We must make for the north,” she said.

  “And what is it that ye intend to dae with us when we arrive there?” Finlay asked.

  “All ye need to know is that ye are prisoners. Nothin’ more and nothin’ less than that,” the woman replied.

  “Prisoners of whom? I say again, who are ye?” Finlay asked.

  “Eat yer bread; we leave at noon. The less ye know, the better it will be for ye,” the woman said, pushing the tray of bread and water across the flagstoned floor with her foot and laughing.

  “At least some indication of where we are going and under whose authority,” Finlay said, but the woman shook her head.

  “Eat and keep yer own counsel,” she said, turning back to the door.

  “And if we refuse?” Elaine said, stepping boldly forward and pushing the tray back toward the woman.

  The woman turned and smiled, most unpleasantly. She stepped forward, bringing her face down close to Elaine’s and whispering in her ear.

  “Then it shall be the worse for ye, pretty maiden. Ye were lucky nae to be killed in the battle at Kilchurn. It was a foolish thing to ride out as ye did. But never mind, ye are safe … for now,” she said.

  “But why me? Why did ye want to bring me here? What quarrel dae ye have with my father or with me?” Elaine said, wondering now if her capture was more design than chance.

  “Ye will serve yer purpose well enough. Now, nay more questions, the both of ye, eat, we leave at noon,” the woman said, and with that, she signaled to the guards, and they left, the door slammed shut and bolted behind them.

  “I am tired of this mystery,” Finlay said, stooping down and tearing the stale piece of bread in half.

  He gave the bigger piece to Elaine and took a sip from one of the cups of water. The bread tasted stale, but Elaine was glad of it, having not eaten since her supper with Carys the night before. It seemed a long time since she was in her chambers at Kilchurn, plotting her return to Carrick. Now, she would give anything to be back there with Finlay, safe, and sound in the castle.

  “Then we must pray that our questions are answered when we leave here today,” Elaine replied, taking another bite from the bread.

  “I wish I had nae been so stupid. We were caught entirely by surprise on the road north. That woman approached us; I thought she was but a solitary rider, perhaps even one in need of help. But instead, she turned out to be only the bait,” Finlay said.

  “Ye were nae to know who she was. Even the finest of warriors and noblest of men can find themselves caught in such a way. Ye have said it before, the roads are dangerous and lawless, and there is much to fear, nae least this woman and her bandits. For that is surely what they are,” Elaine said.

  “I think ye are right, Elaine. Nothin’ but common bandits in the pay of some other, and that is what makes it all the worse. I have nae been captured by men at arms or soldiers hard trained in war, but by common thieves. The sort I rescued ye from. Why, perhaps this woman is some kindred of theirs, intent on havin’ her revenge for what I did to avenge ye and yer father’s men,” Finlay said, suddenly looking at Elaine in surprise.

  “Aye, it could well be. There are lesser reasons to seek revenge, and that would explain why she has sought me out too,” Elaine said, and Finlay nodded.

  “It must be. Well now, that is a pretty game to be played and make nay mistake. I shall take such revenge upon them that stories shall be told of it for a hundred years,” Finlay said, clenching his fists together.

  “Let us first escape and then seek our revenge,” Elaine said, and Finlay laughed.

  “Aye, there is precious we can dae stuck here in this grim place,” he said, shaking his head.

  In the hours which followed, Elaine gave Finlay an account of all that had happened since his departure from Kilchurn. She told again of how his uncle had announced the solemn news of his death and how he had assumed power before making clear his intentions towards her. She spoke of her deep sorrow at the news of his death and of how she had mourned him, the depth of her feelings clear to see, and she spoke of her foolish intention to return to Carrick, an intention she now had no desire to fulfill, even if she could have done so.

  “But I will nae dae so, nae now,” she said, concluding her tale.

  “And for that, I am glad. Ye are my only friend now, Elaine. It seems that my uncle has poisoned my own clan against me and where Dougal is, I daenae know. Tis’ only ye upon whom I can rely, and it seems that the same must be said for ye too,” Finlay said.

  “I worry for Carys. I cannae help but think that some harm has come to her. If these bandits have control of Kilchurn, then there is nay tellin’ what they will dae to her,” Elaine said, shaking her head.

  “Then, we must hope and pray that she had the good sense to get away. She is more courageous than she believes herself, though. I have nay doubt that she is safe. Besides, she can be in nay less a predicament than we,” Finlay said, just as footsteps could be heard in the corridor outside.

  The bolt on the door was drawn back, and several of the woman’s soldiers entered, pulling them roughly to their feet and urging them out of the door.

  “Ye are wanted. The party leaves shortly, and the mistress demands yer presence,” one of them said.

  “And is yer mistresses’ identity as much a mystery to ye as tis’ to us?” Finlay asked, but the soldier only scowled.

  “Ask nay questions, Laird. There is nothin’ that ye need to know. Now, on with ye,” the man said, pointing along the corridor.

  Elaine had been too shocked and dazed b
y her ordeal on the moorland to take in much of her surroundings the night before. She had known that they had ridden for many miles, crossing heather and stream, uphill and through long valleys before reaching this lonely castle. Now, she looked around her, trying to take in as much as possible as they made their way along the corridors and passageways.

  It was far from the pleasant surroundings of Kilchurn. No tapestries hung upon the walls, no servants hurried here and there, there was no smell of cooking or the sounds of laughter and merriment. All was quiet, the bare flagstones echoing with their footsteps as they made their way down a long flight of stairs, past closed doors and through dark, dingy passageways leading here and there.

  Eventually, they emerged into a courtyard where a group of men stood, surrounding the woman who was on horseback and who hailed them to approach. A wall ran on two sides with a gatehouse at the far end, and it seemed as though the castle was built on some rocky outcrop. Elaine could see a bridge stretching out through the open gates, high mountains towering up on either side, while behind lay the tower in which they had been held, the moorlands she had seen from their window rising above.

  “Make them ready, quickly now,” the woman called out, beckoning them among the group of soldiers.

  They certainly matched the description of the bandits who had attacked Elaine and her father’s men on the way to Kilchurn. They were equipped with all manner of weapons, heartless looking men with angry faces and sneering lips. They eyed Elaine and Finlay with interest as they approached the woman, murmurs running around the courtyard, veiled threats, and menaces.

  “Where are ye takin’ us? I demand to know,” Finlay said, and the woman shook her head.

  “What matter is it where ye are going to? But ye shall nae return here. There is business to see to, and we must be swift, come now,” the woman said.

  “Ye are nothin’ but mercenaries and bandits. This is nay clan, and ye are nay noblewoman, but only a robber and a thief. I know just who ye are. Tis’ revenge that ye seek is it nae? Tell me, did I have yer friends punished for what they did to Elaine and her father’s men? Or perhaps even yer family, yer brother, or yer uncle,” Finlay said, and the woman turned to him in anger.

  She climbed down from her horse and drew her sword, causing Finlay to take a step back as Elaine clutched at his arm.

  “Ye dare to speak to me in such a way? To assume that ye know my business, Laird? Well, perhaps I shall run ye through now,” she said, bringing her sword close to Finlay’s chest.

  “And then ye shall nae get yer pretty penny of ransom, for I am worth far more alive than dead,” Finlay said, and Elaine was astonished at how he held the woman’s gaze, entirely fearless and self-assured.

  “I shall have my revenge soon enough,” she hissed, as Finlay stood his ground before her.

  “Then, I am right. Ye are nothin’ but a bandit, a robber, and a mercenary. I wonder who paid yer price for this wickedness. I only hope they paid ye well for the price ye pay later will be higher,” Finlay said.

  The woman turned angrily to him and brought her hand across his face, causing him to smart and fall back. The bandits laughed, and Elaine rushed to Finlay’s side, helping him to his feet as he dusted himself off.

  “She knows I am true to my word,” he said, and the woman laughed.

  “And we shall see when that word might come true. Now, tis’ time we left. Bring them,” she called out, and Elaine and Finlay were pulled roughly toward the gates.

  The party now set out, led by the woman who rode at its head. Finlay and Elaine were forced to march amid the bandits, who jostled and pushed them along. They made their way through the castle courtyard and out through the gates and over the bridge. It led across a narrow gauge, and looking back, Elaine realized she had been right. The castle lay on a rocky outcrop, its walls falling down into cliffs below. A wide plateau rose up behind, the moorlands stretching out above like a blanket coming down from the mountains all around.

  It was a lonely and desolate place, far from anywhere she knew, and even in the light of the afternoon, it looked gloomy and foreboding. This was no place of homely hearths and cheering meals, of roaring fires, and shared stories and tales. It was not the seat of some noble Laird and his clan, but instead a place of mystery and secrets, a place she was glad to see the back of.

  “Move along there, go faster,” one of the bandits said, pushing Elaine roughly ahead.

  “Ye would push a woman like that? Shame on ye,” Finlay said, and he struck out at the man who fell backward with a cry.

  “Peace, Finlay,” Elaine said, as the other men crowded angrily around.

  The man got to his feet, holding his hand to his lip, which was bleeding. Angrily, he charged at Finlay, who stepped aside and knocked him flat to the ground, where he rolled over and cried out in pain.

  “Enough of this,” the woman called out, reining in her horse, and turning angrily to them, “we have nae even left the castle gates. Bind them both, I want nay more trouble from them.”

  And so, Elaine and Finlay’s hands were bound, and they were led tied together along the path. It was hard going, and Elaine stumbled on several occasions, falling to the ground from exhaustion and fear. But there was no mercy shown by the bandits, and each time she was pulled roughly to her feet and forced to walk faster, trying desperately not to fall again. Finlay tried his best to reassure her as they marched, and his presence did much to keep her spirits up, as despairing as she felt. How grateful she was that fate had brought them back together, though she lamented the sad tragedy of the position they now found themselves in.

  They marched on for many miles, the woman leading them on a path that wound its way across the moorlands and through the heathers. Whether they were heading north or south or east or west, Elaine could not tell. She only knew that she was growing more and more exhausted by every step, her thirst growing in the heat of the afternoon sun and her feet and legs growing sore and tired.

  “I cannae walk much further like this, Finlay,” she said, as they came to a ford which crossed a stream over the path.

  “We need to rest; she is tired,” Finlay called out, as the bandits pushed them along.

  “Tis’ nay concern of mine if she is tired,” the woman called out from her horse, just as Elaine fell forward, stumbling onto the dusty path.

  “Please,” she cried out as she was dragged roughly to her feet.

  “Get her some water from the stream; we may rest here a moment,” the woman said, reining in her horse and dismounting.

  Elaine and Finlay sat on the bank next to the stream, and cups of water were brought for them. She was grateful for the rest, leaning back with a sigh and resting her head on the grass.

  “Where are we, Finlay?” she said, staring up into the cloudless blue sky above.

  “By my reckoning, we are some twenty miles north of Kilchurn. I recognize the ridge of hills in the distance, where the moorlands give way to the mountains yonder,” Finlay said, pointing across the heathers.

  “And where dae ye think we are going to?” Elaine said, but at this, Finlay shook his head.

  “We have come north, or possibly east, I am nae sure. But where we are going to, I daenae know. Towards lands belongin’ to the MacDonalds perhaps, or into unclaimed lands where nay clan has authority,” he said, shaking his head.

  Elaine looked around at the other men who now stood in groups talking and whispering to one another. The woman stood alone, looking out over the moorlands, and she turned as Elaine’s eyes rested upon her.

  “Has the lass recovered enough to march on?” she said, and Elaine made no reply.

  “Can ye nae see that she is tired? Ye force her to ride through the night and now expect her to march on an empty stomach and with nothin’ to drink while ye ride on horseback,” Finlay said, shaking his head.

  “Is she nae the daughter of a Laird? Can she nae march herself?” the woman said, scowling at them.

  “I am the daughter of a Laird,
and when my father discovers what has happened, he will see to it that I am avenged,” Elaine replied, and the woman laughed.

  “Yer father is like all the rest of the northern Lairds. Once they were great, but now they live only by their legacy. The days of the clans are over; ye, Finlay MacCallum, are the last of yer kind,” she said, shaking her head and looking at him with nothing but contempt.

  “And the same might be said of ye, whoever ye are,” Finlay replied.

  The woman only scowled, dismissing him with a wave of her hand before calling out to the others to make ready to march on.

  “I daenae know if I can keep going much further, even with a little water, I still feel weak,” Elaine said, struggling to stand up and leaning on Finlay’s arm.