Highlander's Stolen Wife: A Medieval Scottish Historical Romance Book

by Alisa Adams

  Mungo’s ears reddened. He cleared his throat. He opened his mouth, but no words came out of it.

  “Cat got yer tongue then? Let me give ye a prod in the right direction. I am Freya, wife of Finlay, or at least I thought I was until the scunner went missing.”

  “Mungo,” he said with a snort.

  “I see. Not very talkative, are ye? Once I have greeted the rest of ye, we’ll go inside. I see ye have some whiskey or ale in yer flask.” She pointed at the horses. “We’ll get to know one another better then. The drink might loosen yer tongue.” Freya turned away from him and welcomed both Mary and Murtagh. She finished her turn, by saying, “Come on then. Let’s go inside, and ye can tell me the reason for yer visit. I have a rabbit stew on the hearth. It’s not much but enough to go ‘round. Alick, Bruce, I need yer help setting the table.”

  While Alastair, Murtagh and the boys followed Freya into the dwelling, Mary lingered with Mungo who was removing his flask from the saddle. “Well, well, I never thought I’d see the day,” she said with a current of excitement in her voice.

  “See what?” Mungo regarded her curiously.

  “You struck by love at first sight.” She giggled. “I must agree with you though – Freya is very beautiful and widowed to boot. She could do with a fine man like you. More importantly, you could do with a woman to soften that coarse manner of yours. It appears that her feminine charms are already working their magic on your eloquence.”

  “Yer full of shite, Sassenach.”

  “Am I now? From what I saw, Freya was quite taken in by you. She wants to loosen yer tongue, she does.” Mary jumped away when Mungo reached out to grab her. She spun on her heels and darted in the direction of the abode. “Come on, I am dying to see you vying for the heart of a fair maiden.” She tittered all the way to the open door.

  “What’s so funny?” Alastair asked when she stepped inside.

  “You’ll see when Mungo gets here.” Mary grinned at Freya. The two women exchanged knowing glances.

  After Freya had made sure everyone had a place at the small table in the hovel that looked like it would collapse when the next winter storm blew, she ladled portions of the broth into wooden bowls. Her sons helped her by hurriedly dispensing with the vessels. When that was done, she flitted about, placing bannocks on the table. In the meantime, Mungo filled cups with whiskey. He spilled the liquid once too often, making Mary laugh into her hand.

  “She has a nice bahookie,” she whispered into his ear when he sat back down after his pouring.

  A flush covered Mungo’s face. “Sassenach, I was not—”

  “Oh, you were, Mungo. Saw it, I did. Your eyes were glued to her backside like a bee in honey and don’t deny it.”

  “Slàinte,” said Freya, sitting down.

  “Slàinte,” repeated the others, lifting their cups.

  “Thank you for sharing yer supper with us. I ken that ye do not have much,” said Alastair, smacking his lips.

  “Do ye now? Might that be the reason ye are here?” asked Freya.

  “An old lady with a boy told us of yer circumstance and where we could find ye.”

  “That would be Ethel. She comes ‘round from time to time with her grandson and a tradesman from the village. They help me transport and sell the things I make.” She pointed at the wooden bowls on the table and a chair in the corner of the single room in the house.

  “Very good workmanship this,” said Mungo, lifting his bowl. He scrutinized the meticulous carvings that were of Scottish wildlife appreciatively.

  Freya smiled at him. “Thank you. Tis very kind of ye to say so. Told ye that ye tongue would loosen with some food in yer belly and a whiskey down yer thrapple.”

  Mungo swallowed deeply. “Where did ye learn?”

  “The laddies’ da taught me. He always said I needed to learn everything I can. So, I helped him. We had quite a flourishing little business going until the Laird in the region called up all the able-bodied men to fight against the English. All alone, I barely make ends meet. There is no way I can produce as much as we used to by myself.”

  Mungo pressed his lips together. “Ye are a fine lass… looking after yer laddies and all. I am sorry about yer man though. Maybe us being here might shed some light on the matter. We are here to help.”

  “Eat up. Big, strong man like ye needs his strength,” she said, giving him a smile.

  Obeying, Mungo attacked his food with flourish. Grunts of approval rolled out of his mouth. “A fine cook to boot. If ye weren’t married, I’d make ye my betrothed in a heartbeat.” He continued eating until his bowl was scraped clean with hearty swabs of bannock. When he looked up, he let a small belch slip passed his lips – everyone was looking at him. “Is something the matter?” Automatically, his gaze fixed on Freya’s. That was when he noticed her blushing at him.

  All the while Mary grinned at the two of them. An awkward silence hung in the room. Alastair was too engrossed with his food to notice any of it.

  Murtagh, on the other hand, sniggered. “Look at ye, Mungo. If I wouldn’t ken any better, and I do ken, ye act as if ye have just seen something or someone ye like. He’d make a good father, Freya…” He ruffled Bruce’s hair. “Mungo’s a little grumpy in the morning’s, but I am sure that’s nothing a bonnie lass like ye can’t handle with a little coziness.” He guffawed.

  “Mm, yes, he does look like a decent man,” said Freya. She displayed no further embarrassment. Unlike Mungo, who eyed the other clansman and Mary nervously. He found himself in uncharted waters. The emotions inside of him were so different to what he knew. He felt more excited than he ever did in battle. To that day, he had never believed there was a greater thrill.

  “On the matter of fathers, I would like to break words with ye, Freya. Would ye join me for a wee stroll?”

  Mary gave her betrothed a hostile stare. It was so typical of him to be impervious to the happenings around him. His mother had told her as much during the long nights when he was sick. In that respect, Alastair was like his father – a Highland bull with a hide as shaggy and weather-beaten as the two men’s bovine cousin. The moment had been taken. Alastair got to his feet and indicated with his head to the door that their host joins him.

  “Freya, I have something to tell ye,” said Alastair once they were outside.

  “It’s about Finlay, isn’t it – he’s—” A tear slipped out of Freya’s eye, slowly inviting more to follow in its wake.

  “Aye, it’s about Finlay. I met him during my incarceration at Chillingham Castle.”

  “Where’s that?” she asked between sobs.

  “A place in England where the Sassenachs keep prisoners.” Alastair hesitated a moment when he was about to go into more detail. He realized that it would do no good to regale the widow with the horrors of the place. “We spoke often. We were cellmates.” The last bit was a lie of sorts. He would never speak of them residing alone in the darkness.

  “Oh, I am happy for that. At least he wasn’t alone.” She frowned. “Did ye come all this way just to tell me?”

  “Finlay made me promise to see ye should something happen to him, not that he needed to. I would’ve come on my own accord. He told me all about ye and yer sons. What a fine family he had. Thanks to yer husband, I survived. His words and companionship and the thought of Mary gave me the strength to never give up on the belief that I would be free one day.” They walked in silence for a few paces.

  “How did he… die, Alastair?”

  “He…” Alastair briefly thought of the best way to put voice to the happenings. “He got very poorly. The English captured him a long time before I arrived. In the end, he succumbed to the sickness. There was hardly any pain. His last words were of ye and the laddies. I would have come sooner, but I too was unwell for a while. We came here, the moment I got better.” The white lie came easily off his tongue. How he wished it had only been true.

  “And I thank ye for coming.” She brushed the tears from her face: “I somehow kn
ew he was gone, ye ken.”

  “Aye.”

  “I never could tell the boys. I dinnae ken how I am going to tell them now.” Freya started crying again.

  Alastair took her into his arms. He stroked her hair as wracking sobs overcame her. “Let me speak to them,” he whispered. “It might be better coming from a man. He was brave yer husband. We fought together at the Battle of Stanhope. That is how the lads should remember him.” With her head pressed against his body, Freya nodded. “All right. I have more to tell ye.”

  Freya pulled away. She looked at him, her eyes glassed over and red. “More?”

  “Aye. I would like ye and the laddies to come to my borough. I have spoken to my faîther, and you’d be welcome there. Ye could live in the castle until we build ye a home. Ye will like the Macleod land. Bonnie it is.”

  Freya looked around her as if she already said farewell to her home. She had never traveled abroad before. Somehow, the prospect frightened her. Yet, seeing the compassion in Alastair’s eyes, she made the decision to leave the very next moment. She was no coward, and she would do all that needed to be done to give her sons everything she could. Going with the Laird’s son was the right thing to do. “I will come with ye. But first, ye have to talk to the boys.”

  They slowly walked back to the hovel. They did not speak. When they entered the dwelling, Freya looked at her boys. “Alastair has something to tell ye.” They looked at her with surprise and a little curiosity in their eyes.

  A guttural cough made everyone turn their heads. “If ye don’t mind, Freya, Alastair, I would like to be the one to speak to Alick and Bruce,” said Mungo who gradually got to his feet. He had an expression on his face that did not broach any argument.

  “Mungo, do ye think that is a good idea? Ye did not ken him,” said Alastair.

  “But I do. The laddies need someone whose life he saved to remind them of his bravery.”

  “Ye never told me that.”

  “I dinnae ken it was him. While ye were out, Alick and Bruce here spoke of the man’s sporran. It was so distinct – I have never seen or heard of the likes. Made of white wolf’s fur and leather it was. I remember it as if it was yesterday – I looked right up at it after Finlay had thrashed the English bastard who was about to run me through with his sword. The man helped me up to my feet and asked me if I was married. When I said I wasn’t, he told me of Alick and Bruce. The names meant nothing to me until I came here and then that sporran – it all made sense.”

  Alastair nodded. “Aye, ye did mention a bloke who gave ye a hand.” He looked at Mary. She only nodded. To voice her opinion on a matter as serious as this would break against clan etiquette. Women never spoke or advised their menfolk in front of others. “If it’s all right with Freya, I have no objection, my brother. I know of no better man than ye to honor the lads with the tale.”

  Freya nodded without hesitation. “I too would be honored to have Mungo speak the words.” She smiled at him wanly.

  Mungo was the first to break eye contact. His heart had beaten faster when he had looked at her. The way she had held his gaze and smiled at him spoke infinite words that all said the same thing. “Laddies, yer coming with me. We have man stuff to discuss.” He stalked up to the door. “Are ye coming or what?”

  The brothers exchanged glances. They looked at their mother. When she nodded, they got up and walked over to the towering clansman who placed his massive hands on their shoulders. In the short time they had come to know him, Alick and Bruce felt completely at ease in his presence. Whatever he had to say to them would be a lot easier to digest because of the powerful confidence and security he effused.

  “Laddies, it’s like this. I once met a man…”

  “I will love you my whole life, ye and no other,” said Alastair, slipping the golden ring onto his bride’s finger.

  “And I you, you and no other,” repeated Mary who also slid a ring of the same material onto his finger. She stood with Alastair on a small hillock overlooking the glen by the sea. Her off-white close fitting kirtle with the tight-buttoned sleeves, and thin linen belt shimmered in the sunlight. The garment mantled her slender body and reached to her small delicate feet clad in little moccasins.

  The man standing next to her in front of the priest beamed proudly in his thick woolen plaid and white shirt. He moved closer and kissed his wife on the lips. “You are my woman now, blossom,” he whispered into the contact.

  “Aye, my love. Now and forever more.” Mary basked in the feel of his strong hands on her back. His lips burned on hers for the entire duration of their kiss. All of the villagers cried boisterous cheers. Mungo, Freya, and Murtagh were the loudest of the bunch.

  As Mary always liked to think: Fate is inexorable in its machinations. It had brought her here to Diabaig and the magical land of the Highlands that had claimed her heart. Before her stood her man. The one who would be there for the rest of her life. He was a towering presence who filled her heart to the seams.

  Everything had happened so fast after their journey to find Freya and the boys had ended. There had been sadness when Alick and Bruce had heard of their father’s demise. However, Mungo had stepped into his shoes with clansman bravado. The brothers never left his side. Already, Alick, at eight summers, the older of the two, learned how to fight with a sword. At first, Bruce had protested because he was still considered too young, but Mungo’s domineering way soon had him back in line and focusing on learning how to sharpen the knife the clansman had given him.

  And then, there was Mungo and Freya’s burgeoning romance. It had started the moment they had left her home. At times, Mary had to cover the boy’s ears because the sounds they made rivaled, if not surpassed, hers and Alastair’s. With all of the love in the air, Murtagh had realized that fornicating and eating was not all there was to life. He had puckered up the courage to ask Caitlin from the kitchens for her hand in marriage. Of course, she had said yes. The lass had been in love with the burly clansman ever since she turned thirteen.

  Wedding preparations had become the order of the day. The Laird had been relentless in quashing any discontent that may have still harbored among his people concerning the impending nuptials. Even Aila’s father had seen reason. His daughter was now betrothed to the son of another head of an important family. Mary could not help but feel sorry for her. However, the sentiment had been for naught. As it turned out, she had become quite fond of her betrothed. So much so that she had even started to exchange words with Mary again.

  “This has no beginning and no end, blossom,” said Alastair, twirling the ring on his finger.

  Mary looked back at him. She had experienced the happiest weeks of her life. And now this day, the very best God could have given her. “It better have, my man.” Mary winked at him. Neither of them noticed the people standing all around them. They were too consumed with the love they felt for one another.

  “It is time to begin the festivities,” announced the Laird.

  In moments, the musicians started to play pipes and flutes, announcing the commencement of the celebrations. They would fill the air with music all the way to the banquet that was about to take place back at the castle.

  “Let’s go, blossom.” Alastair led his bride past his people. Many of them patted him on the back and said words of congratulation to both him and Mary. When they reached the main thoroughfare in the borough, even more people lined the streets and the ones that had been with the newlyweds on the knoll dispersed along the way. “Sometimes, I think it is better to be a woman, Mary.” Chuckling, Alastair shook his head at the memory of the previous night. His cranium still throbbed from all the ale and whiskey he had drunk.

  “Why do you say that, Alastair?” Mary looked up to her husband fondly.

  “Yesterday, you were lucky to only get your feet washed by Freya and the other lasses in the clan. I, on the other hand, got mine washed alright, but instead of leaving it at that, Mungo and Murtagh, with the help of their band of thugs, stripped me of
my clothing and splashed me with soot and covered me in feathers.” He groaned. “I was drunk as hell and had to spend the entire night tied to a tree naked.”

  “So, that’s what happened to you.” Mary ran her tongue over her lips. The thought of Alastair in the nude awakened lustful intent. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him. “Why did they do that?” She tittered. “Mungo and Murtagh and their silly pranks.”

  “It’s a wedding tradition in our clan, lass. The soot is a symbol of home and hearth, while feathers are associated with food. The gesture is made to strengthen our union and ensure that we have a roof over our heads and plenty to eat.”

  “I see and what happens now?” asked Mary, pointing to myriad chamber pots in front of them.

  “Those are chanties filled with salt. The chamber pots symbolize prosperity.” They continued walking until they reached the first one. Alastair looked at Mary with a smile on his face. “You’re meant to jump over it, blossom.” He held her hand and indicated with his head that she did what he said.

  Mary chuckled. “I love this land. It is so full of beautiful traditions.” Biting down on her lower lip, she skipped over the pot.

  “A kiss, fair maiden,” growled out Mungo who was the first of the men to step forward.

  Alastair hooted laughter. “Of course it would be ye who eagerly rushes forth to claim a kiss from my beautiful bride.” His eyes twinkled happily. “Does Freya not kiss ye enough, Mungo?”

  “Aye that she does, brother. But there’s nothing like a bit of variety to keep a man’s welly entertained.” He snorted uncouthly.

  Standing with him, Freya punched him on the shoulder, forcing him to roar with mirth. “If you keep up that behavior, there will be no more kisses and that other thing for the next five full moons.”

  Mary chuckled. “Now, that’s a warning worth heeding, Mungo.”

  “Ah, she’d never manage.” Mungo planted a wet kiss on his woman’s lips and grabbed her backside with his large hands that were the size of plates. “And besides, this little minx is as hot as they come. More than enough to keep me coming back for more.” He arched his eyebrows. “Do I get my kiss now?”