The Elusive Highlander

by Ju Ephraime

  It was the first of April, and Coira, restless for Dair, had just sat down to her lonely supper when the door opened and he walked in. She hadn’t seen him, except briefly, in a couple days. She sat there, too shocked to move. He looked exhausted, as exhausted as Dair could look.

  He never seemed to tire, and today, he looked every bit the Highland warrior. He had several days’ growth of facial hair on his face, and his electrifying blue eyes shone as with a fire. His wild hair was tied back with a leather tie, as it was the first time she’d seen him in the keep.

  When the paralysis that had her in its grip finally released her, she was on him, hugging and kissing him as if he’d been gone for years and not a couple days.

  “Did ye miss me, mo muirnín,” he said, lifting her as he kissed her ravenously.

  Coira was overcome. She couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face.

  ““Dinnae cry my love. Ye’re breaking my heart. I am sorry I neglected ye for so long.”

  Coira noticed his brogue was even more pronounced than normal, so she knew he was moved by her tears. “I know you are needed everywhere, but I need you too,” she told him between hiccups.

  “I know, mo muirnín. I missed ye till it hurt. I had to help them prepare. There is nothing more I can do for them. We are as prepared as we will ever be. Now we are about to leave soon.”

  “Please let’s not speak of war. Let me just hold you.”

  They held each other for a good minute before they fell into bed and began tearing at each other’s clothes until there was not a stitch of clothing between them.

  They made love throughout the night. He reached for her several times during the course of the night, and even when the sun was coming through the windows, they stayed in bed until noontime.

  Alasdair spent the entire day with her and the following four days. It was as it had been on their honeymoon. They couldn’t get enough of each other. Coira knew she missed her husband. She had no idea he had turned her into his sex slave. Although, if the way he went at her was any indication, he was just as much a sex slave as was she.

  On the evening of the fifth day, she took a bath, had a tray brought up to their chambers, and waited for him to put in an appearance, but he never showed. She received the note he’d left with Imogene: The Highlander had gone to war. She believed they’d left in the dead of night to avoid anyone learning their plans. Coira was beside herself. How could he leave without saying goodbye?

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that he hadn’t said goodbye to avoid the emotional scene that a prolonged goodbye would entail. It still devastated her. Coira was not fit for anything and remained in bed the next entire day. She didn’t want to think of Dair being killed in this war. She was not a praying person, but now she had to seek an audience with the higher power, praying for Dair’s safe return. To her credit, Coira prayed for all the men. She prayed a little harder for her husband.

  At sundown, Imogene knocked and entered the chamber with a tray of food. Coira closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, hoping she’d go away.

  “M’lady, ye have to eat to keep up yer strength.”

  “I’m not hungry, Imogene. How could I eat and enjoy food when the Laird is out there facing death? I can’t.”

  “Think about it this way, m’lady. What will happen when the Laird returns and yer too sick from lack of food to welcome him?”

  “I can’t think so far ahead. This war will go on and on. Why does there have to be war anyway? Men are forever fighting over one thing or other. No one is ever satisfied with his or her lot.”

  “Come, m’lady, don’t think that way. It will only make ye unhappy. I brought ye some of yer favorite cream with a nice hearty soup.”

  “I’ll try to have some soup, but I can’t eat the cream; it reminds me too much of the Laird. He loved his cream. How can I sit here stuffing my face with something he loved that he may never enjoy again?”

  Coira forced herself out of bed and went to the table where Imogene had placed the tray. She poured herself a cup of tea and only added a drop of honey to it. She pushed the cream away as tears filled her eyes.

  She was reaching for a spoon to stir the tea when her hand encountered a folded piece of paper. Her fingers closed around it as she wiped the tears from her face. She peeked at the envelope and saw it was written in Dair's handwriting. She went back into bed and waited until Imogene had left with the uneaten food before she broke the seal.

  My darling, mo muirnín, I am sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye, but I cannae, I did nae, want to see ye cry. Ye know what it does to me. I would give anything to be at home with ye at this very moment, my lips on yers, my body inside ye. Alas, that is not possible. Think of me kindly and take care of yer beautiful self so when I return, and I will return, ye will be there to greet me. I need ye to be strong for me. This is the only way I will survive being away from ye. Take care of yerself and look forward to my return. I have placed an imprint of my lips on this note. Place yers over it, and ye will feel me and know I am thinking about ye.

  All my love,

  Your Highland Warrior

  Coira was bawling her eyes out by the time she came to the end of the letter. She searched frantically for the imprint he was referring to. She was about giving up when she saw it. It was shimmering in the middle of the paper. How could she have missed it? She hadn’t seen it before. What did it matter now? She placed her lips on it, and she did feel him. It was as if he was there with her in the room. She felt the warmth and heat from his mouth like she did when she was kissing him.

  Then she closed her eyes, and she heard his voice. They had several days ride ahead of them, and they were pushing hard to arrive and be in position before the English army got there. Where’s there? She tried to ask him before the connection ended.

  Coira thought she was losing her mind. Did she really hear her husband’s voice or was it her imagination? She didn’t know what to think because it seems so real. She wasn’t going to tell anyone about this, they may think her mad. So, she folded the note and placed it against her heart.

  * * * *

  Alasdair felt better having touched her lips. He was sorry he had to use Druid magic to touch her, but he needed to know she was all right. He already knew this would be a brutal fight. He was committed to it. He had been tempted to use the crystal to scry it. He had resisted. He did not want to cloud his judgment.

  The Bruce depended on him; hell, the country of Scotland depended on him and the other berserkers in the Bruce’s army. They needed all the help they could get. He didn’t have the power of his mither, but he had a few he could use. He had not done so before because he knew it could become a habit.

  Today, he couldn’t resist using his sights. That was how he had seen the size of the English army. It was huge. The Bruce’s army was pitiful against them, but they had two advantages. They knew the countryside, and they had the berserkers. The berserkers had the strength of five men to one. They would reclaim Scottish soil.

  The Bruce was determined to have England recognize Scotland as its own country and return what was stolen. After being crowned king, he no longer had to answer to the English king. This one would be a bloodier battle than the one they had won not so long ago.

  He was riding on the right side of the Bruce and his two brothers were on his left. If Coira were to see him now, she wouldn’t have recognized him. He was in full battle mode with his trusty shield that he’d named, Melvin, his dirk, great sword, and spear. The most telling things were his pelts. He was covered from head to toe in his wolf’s pelts over his tartan. No one would recognize him from a distance.

  They were soon coming up on the location where they had decided to take a stand. They would have the advantage if they reached it before the English. Bruce was a skilled tactician who knew that there was no way his men could defeat Edward’s army on the open field. They intended to use stealth and surprise, taking the enemy unaware. This
was their third advantage.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Coira tried to eat, but a lump had formed in her throat, making it difficult. Dair had been gone for five days; she knew he must be deep in the battle now. She was sitting in a chair in her room and drinking some tea. That seemed to be all she could tolerate these days without bringing it back up.

  She closed her eyes and began to pray. She made a bargain with God that she would always obey her husband and not give him any angst if He brought him back home safe to her. She prayed for so long that, when she opened her eyes, Coira saw it was twilight.

  The Scots called it gloaming. She tried to get out of the chair and almost fell, and a bout of dizziness hit her, followed by a wave of nausea. She was barely able to reach the chamber pot beneath the bed before she was vomiting the bit of tea she had just consumed.

  She vomited for a good five minutes before she was able to throw herself across the bed. She must have been more tired than she thought because she was asleep in no time and was immediately caught up in a dream. She didn’t recognize the place. She could clearly see a lot of men on horseback, fighting.

  The fighting was intense. Somehow, she knew that was where Dair was. She began to strain looking to see if she could spot him. But she could see everyone but Dair. She started to run into the melee, with little regard for her safety. There were men lying around her, too many for her to search. She’d fallen to her knees and begun to cry when she heard the sound of a horse galloping. Coira looked up, and there he was, red hair blowing in the wind, shield at the ready, and sword in hand. He was covered in a strange fur coat, but it was definitely Dair.

  “Dair, Dair,” she screamed, running toward him. He turned and gave her a dazzling smile before he vanished.

  Coira woke screaming. The door opened, and a guard rushed in. “M’lady, m’lady, what’s the matter?”

  It took her a minute to reorient herself back to her surroundings. She didn’t know that a guard had been posted outside her door. She was so shocked to see him it took her a moment to respond.

  “I’m all right. It was just a dream.”

  “Why were ye calling the Laird, m’lady?”

  “I was dreaming about him. I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

  “Cailean, m’lady.”

  “Cailean, it was a dream. I’m all right now. Thanks.”

  Coira watched as he returned outside and closed the door behind him. She was still shaking. The dream had been so vivid. What did it mean? She’d seen her husband was alive, but how could she be sure? She lay on the bed, too wired up to go back to sleep.

  Then Coira retrieved his note from beneath her pillow and opened it, intending to read it again. She was distracted by the impression of his lips sparkling in the center. Without thinking, she placed her lips against it, and she felt him immediately.

  Alasdair was not far away. She felt him as if he was in the room kissing her. She kept pressing her lips, wanting more, but that was all she got. She folded the note, replaced it under her pillow, and fell into a sound, uninterrupted sleep.

  She was woken again, this time by Imogene with her bath water. She’d been neglecting her bath lately. Why bother to take a bath when her heart was breaking? Now she felt energized and ready to face the new day.

  She took a long time in her bath, allowing Imogene to wash her hair. It took a good hour to dry it, although the day was nice and balmy. It was the beginning of summer, and the Scottish weather was like nothing she’d experienced in Manhattan.

  One minute it was nice and sunny, and the next, it was raining and windy. Almost like Florida’s weather. She supposed the fact that it was close to the ocean could account for it.

  She dressed in a new outfit she hadn’t worn before, placed her pearls around her neck, and brushed some berry stain on her lips and cheeks. She went down to the stable and had one of the stable hands saddle one of the gentler horses for her. Coira had only been on alone on the back of a horse the one time, when she had ridden from Castle Campbell to Inveraray. It had been a brutal experience, she had been reluctant to repeat, but she figured now was as good a time as any to try her hand at it again. The trip to the village won’t be anything like the ride to Inveraray, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

  She came out of the stable and was about to climb on the stepping stool to hoist herself into the saddle when there was Cailean walking toward her.

  “M’lady, is there somewhere ye would like to go?”

  “Yes, Cailean. I’d like to go to the village.”

  “M’lady, ye canna go to the village alone. I will have to accompany ye. The Laird left specific instructions about that.”

  “Okay, Cailean, you can accompany me.”

  “Is there any place particular ye wish to go m’lady?”

  “No, I need to get out for a bit.”

  “Good, m’lady,” he said as he got on his horse, which was waiting, already saddled. He fell in behind her.

  Coira had lost her desire to go to the village. She went just to satisfy herself that she was free to come and go. She enjoyed the canter, loving the beautiful countryside. Those in the village went about their business as usual; there was no sign of mourning or sadness in the village. Though there was none of the gaiety like when the Laird visited. Then again, she wasn’t the Laird.

  After buying a few small items, she turned her horse around and returned to the castle. The loneliness was eating away at her. Coira knew she’d miss Dair. She just had not known how much. She had never experienced a spouse going off to war. This was more emotionally draining than having someone die. It was ten times worse than when her mom was killed in that automobile accident.

  This not knowing was ten times worse. And, to top it all, she had to keep up the front for the sake of his people, who were constantly enquiring after her health.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Alasdair and his men had a productive day. They made good time riding hard to make it back home. They made better time returning than they did going.

  The men were weary and tired of the fighting and killing. They were looking forward to returning to their respective homes and family, no one more so than their Laird.

  He missed his wife something terrible. He knew she was all right because he had a connection to her, but it wasn’t the same. He needed to feel her in his arms, her body closing around him in welcoming warmth.

  If they kept up this pace, he would be home before dinnertime. He was looking forward to having dinner with her, feeding her while she sat in his lap.

  It was just as he had thought. The gloaming was deepening when he, Tristan, and Garvin rode into the courtyard, well ahead of his men. The men soon followed. Soon they were all in the keep. The men were longing for a decent meal and a comfortable bed. They were greeted like heroes, which they were. They had given the English a trouncing.

  That evening, the great hall rang with the sounds of men bent on enjoying themselves. They had eaten themselves into a gluttonous stupor, imbibed enough ale to guarantee them a morning fog, and were now bent on having a game of chance. As his glance roved around the hall, there was no sign of Tris; he was probably busy tupping a wench. He swore that man liked tupping more than he liked food. Alasdair felt a certain satisfaction in their accomplishment and was glad they had returned alive and in great spirits for a well-deserved respite.

  After they had eaten, he did not spend any time with them, as would have been his custom; he had to go to his wife. He missed her something terrible. He climbed the stairs with renewed energy. The closer he got to his chambers, the more energized he became and the more his sense of satisfaction and well-being increased. All is well with my heart.

  He went into his chambers first; he needed a bath, to wash the blood and fifth from his body. If he knew his servants, one would be there waiting for him. He was right. He stripped down and stepped into the warm water.

  He used a bar of soap to wash the grime of the battlefield from his body. He then soaped his
hair, and closing his eyes, plunged his head beneath the water, before calling for a fresh supply to rinse it off.

  Had it been daylight, he would have gone for a swim in the loch. That would clean him much more thoroughly than this bath, but he had to make do with removing some of the grime, blood, and dirt that clung to him after several days of fighting. Battling was dirty business.

  He took some time towel drying his hair. He couldn’t go to Coira with wet hair, and now he was getting impatient. He took a couple of pillows and placed them in front of the fire and lay down with his head close to the heat to remove some of the water from his hair. The daft hair was too long.

  Alasdair hadn’t counted on how exhausted he was, and in no time, he was fast asleep.

  He didn’t wake until sometime later. He felt refreshed and eager to go to his wife. He wrapped his robe around him and walked into his wife’s chamber, where she lay asleep, her hand resting on her belly. Alasdair walked over to her and placed his hand over hers. He felt his son. She was carrying his son. His heart filled with pride and love for his woman and the bairn growing in her womb. It was early days yet; nevertheless, he could feel the life force of his son within her body. He had meant only to touch her hand, but he could not resist cupping her lovely breast. As his hand moved over her breast, her eyes flew open.

  * * * *

  Coira wasn’t sure if she was caught up in another one of her vivid dreams. Not stopping to think, she whispered, “Dair?”

  “Aye, mo muirnín. I did nae mean to wake ye.”

  “Dair, is it really you? Are you really here?”

  “Aye, mo muirnín, I am here.” And he crawled into bed next to her.

  “I can’t believe you are really here,” she said on a broken sob.

  “I am really here, mo muirnín. Feel me. Better yet, let me make ye feel me.” And he climbed over her and took her mouth in a rapacious kiss that she was only too happy to return. “Do ye need any further proof that it is indeed me, yer husband, in bed with ye? I will give ye undisputed proof.”