A Highlander’s Terror_A Medieval Scottish Romance Story

by Emilia Ferguson

  Glenna felt her chest tighten with feeling. “Aw. Thanks, milady.” She was blushing and didn't hide it. “But well...I suppose I do wonder. When someone's so sweet and kind and then they're all odd the next moment – distant and remote, like – you have to wonder.”

  “There might be some reason why he feels a need to hide his caring.”

  Glenna nodded slowly. “I suppose there is, milady.”

  She considered telling her about Alexander. Maybe her lady could intercede with someone at the palace, have the man transferred to a new command. No. Don't interfere. Besides – how could you ask her for such a favor? Best keep this to yourself.

  “Well!” Amabel countered, smiling. “You cannot doubt his affections, then. So don't. It will all turn out well. Trust me. Now. I shall wear green today. What do you think?”

  “It brings out the color of your eyes, milady.”

  “Good!” Amabel grinned, radiant as usual. “Now! Let's to breakfast.”

  Glenna helped Amabel dress, thinking about her kind words. Her own position was no easier – she was in love with someone completely out of her own circle too. However, she seemed so confident, so assured!

  I will try and be more like she is.

  They went down to the hall, but it was crowded and Glenna went to the servants' tables. She ate distractedly, looking over at the two long rows of benches where the Guardsmen were eating. She couldn't see Conn.

  Mayhap he's on sentry duty, she decided. She reached for the salt and sprinkled some on her porridge – already topped with butter – and took a mouthful. It was creamy and flavorful, but her mind was elsewhere and she chewed distractedly.

  I hope I can see him again soon.

  As she put back the salt, she felt someone's eye on her. She looked up, the blood draining from her face. Alexander grinned at her from across the hall.

  She quickly looked down at her meal.

  When she looked up again, he had looked away. She felt her heartbeat return to normal. Maybe he wasn't looking at me. Maybe I just imagined that.

  She finished her breakfast quickly, wanting to leave the hall and his presence as soon as possible. “Excuse me.”

  Glenna pushed in her chair and stood. She drew her cream woolen shawl around her shoulders and hurried out into the hallway.

  I don't know why that man disconcerts me so.

  She shook her head. She was probably just being unnecessarily cautious. She walked rapidly across the courtyard and to the upper colonnade. There, she stopped.

  In the doorway before her, blocking the entrance to her chamber, was Alexander.

  She turned away, but his hand grabbed her wrist. “Sir!” she said, alarmed. “You will unhand me.”

  He chuckled. “Make me.”

  Glenna shivered. “Let me go,” she whispered. His hand round her wrist was tight and strong, the fingers warm and a bit rough. There was no way she could break that grip.

  “Oh! Where's the please? What pretty manners!” He smiled. Then he thrust his bleak, craggy face toward her, making Glenna twist away.

  His hand reached out and touched her hair, forcing her face toward him. Glenna went stiff. She couldn't fight him. She had no idea what to do. Therefore, she did nothing.

  He pushed his hard, wet mouth over hers and kissed her.

  Glenna struggled to break his grasp, to push him aside. However, his arms were around her now and his mouth devoured hers.

  “Oh.” He broke the kiss, his pale gray eyes unseeing. “Now that's how a real man kisses, eh?”

  “Ugh.” Glenna wanted to spit. She wiped her mouth and backed away. He did not try to stop her. “You're no man at all,” she hissed. “You behave worse than a beast.”

  He laughed. Then his eyes narrowed. “You think you can scorn me?” he said coldly.

  Glenna didn't answer. She turned and, heart thumping in her chest, walked briskly back down the colonnade.

  When she reached the courtyard, she sat down on a bench. The sun shone down, a splash of gold on the flagstones, though it was still cold outside. Here, with the maids drawing water and the sound of birds on the roof, she felt safe. She started shivering.

  How dare he touch me like that? She didn't even want to think about it; didn't want to remember the feeling of powerlessness, of numbness. She couldn't have stopped him. That was the most frightening thing: Feeling that helpless.

  She drew her knees up to her chest and sat there, huddled in on herself in the morning sunlight. She felt like the world was suddenly not as safe as it had been. Like she was not as safe as she had been.

  “Ma'am?”

  Glenna jumped. She twisted around abruptly and found herself sighing with relief as she looked into a young man's face. “Yes?”

  “Sorry for startlin' ye,” the youth said. “I just saw you and wondered if you were unwell, like?” He gave her a concerned smile.

  “No, I'm quite well,” Glenna said quickly. To her surprise, she stood and walked away. “Just a bit cold is all,” she said as she headed into the castle.

  She didn't want to go anywhere. She was frightened of going through the upper colonnade alone again, in case he was still there. She knew it was silly – how could she let him intimidate her like this? – but she couldn't help that she was afraid.

  If I go down to the kitchens, surely he won't follow me there.

  She headed down to the kitchen, keeping in sight of other people as much as possible.

  “Glenna!” The cook looked at her with some surprise. “What're you doing down here?” she looked at her with narrowed eyes, almost hostile.

  Glenna felt unwelcome. As a lady's maid, she supposed she was unwelcome here. Personal servants occupied a peculiar space somewhere between servants and stewards, more or less resented by both.

  “I'm...um...my lady needed a drink to help her sleep,” she lied. “I was wondering if anyone here knew some helpful preparation?”

  “Well!” The cook smiled then, hostility evaporating. “I can tell you plenty! Brews is a great interest of mine. If you sit yourself down there at the table, I'll come and tell you all about it as soon as this pie is flavored...”

  Glenna smiled. “Thank you.”

  She sat down in the warmth of the kitchen, the bustle of the place lifting her spirits as it always did. A big dog lay by the hearth, banked down now to rich orange embers.

  “Patches,” the cook scolded. “Git out of it...”

  The dog raised his big shaggy head and looked at the woman calmly, then moved to the other side of the fire.

  Glenna grinned. She sat and let the rush and bustle of the place soothe her soul.

  There were three maidservants behind her, polishing silverware, and the other cook – three worked here at the palace kitchens – was busy making another batch of bread. Glenna watched with round eyes as he kneaded it and then rolled it into bread-rolls with breathtaking ease.

  “Now,” the cook said and joined her. “If the lady's too anxious for sleeping, I would recommend a tea of melissa. And if it's that she's restless, why! A brew of valerian'll put her to rights straight away. Chamomile will soothe a worried mind.”

  Glenna listened. “What...” she paused. “What would you recommend for someone who's suffering from sadness? From melancholy?”

  “Oh!” the cook smiled. “Well! Heart’s-ease is the herb you want for that! It's too early in the season for picking, but, as luck would have it, I always keep a bunch or two about the place. So, if it's hearts-ease you're wanting, just ask me.”

  Glenna looked into the homely, flushed face. If only there was a remedy for me, she thought sadly. If a tea of herbs would soothe her soul, she would be glad to try it. “I would like some,” she admitted.

  “Well, then!” The cook stood at once, and, smiling, began to set out a beaker and rummage around for the herbs. “It'll take ten minutes or so with boiling the kettle and steeping...so if you're wanting it, best hang about and fetch it while it's hot.”

  “Thank you
,” Glenna nodded. It was not for Amabel, but for herself. “Can I do aught to help?”

  “Oh!” the cook shook her head. “No, lass. Naught around here that hasn't got a pair of hands working on it...except mayhap that pastry-rolling there! Eh! Colla! What're you about?”

  One of the maids working at a bench jumped guiltily and set to the pastry with renewed vigor. Glenna looked away, not wanting to embarrass her.

  “We just need a little bit of time, now...” the cook was murmuring as she sifted dried leaves into the cup of boiling water. “Take one of these pies with you, Glenna,” she said, pointing to some miniature tarts that had just baked.

  “Oh!” Glenna smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Not at all. Won't miss one or two here and there...” She winked.

  Ten minutes later, armed with a cup of tea and a small tart in a handkerchief in her kirtle, Glenna went upstairs. She was surprised by how she tiptoed across the colonnade. She was badly shaken.

  Is he here? She looked around. He didn't seem to be. She felt her heart thudding in her chest, walked briskly across the area and reached the bedchamber. There, she slipped inside and locked the door behind her. Behind the screen, she finally felt safe again.

  What am I going to do about Alexander?

  As she finished the small, intensely-flavored pie, she thought about the problem. A wild idea occurred to her: maybe the cook could produce some leaves to put into his food. She didn't want to poison him, of course – only make him sick enough that he was transferred into the countryside for a while. She and her lady were not going to be there for much longer, after all.

  Which was, of course, the other problem.

  What to do about Conn? If all went as planned, she had three days left to settle things. She thought about it and drank her tea. It had a sweet flavor, slightly grassy and warm.

  Memories of that encounter with Conn, their first meeting, flooded her mind: so sweet and so sad. She sniffed and set the cup aside, feeling tears run down her cheeks. She knew she should try and blank such memories from her mind, but now that she was alone, they tormented her. Dancing with Conn. The feel of his hand on her wrist. The way they loved to talk together as they walked through the fields. His smile.

  She found that she was just as miserable when she had finished as when she started, and put the cup aside with a sigh.

  I should just forget about him. I am being silly. Who am I to him? A servant he met at a party. He has likely already forgotten about me.

  She stood and went through to tidy Lady Amabel's chamber. Her lady, too, seemed distracted and sad. It was unfair, she thought wretchedly. Nevertheless, for society, they would both be happy.

  But society rules all of us, she thought sadly. I might as well think I can fly as think I can flout its rules. It is the way it is, and nothing I or Lady Amabel could do can change it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A BALL TO REMEMBER

  A BALL TO REMEMBER

  Conn was walking glumly through the colonnade when he heard Greer and Adair chuckling to themselves, just returning from duty. The sound wore on his sore heart.

  Glenna's furious with me.

  It surprised him to learn how upset that made him. Though the sun shone down slantingly into the courtyard, he found no pleasure in the warm rays. All he could think about was how sad he felt.

  “Hey! Conn!” Greer called, boyish face full of smiles. “You look gloomy.”

  “Yes!” Adair smiled. Usually serious, even the old guardsman wore a grin.

  “You two, in contrast, look quite cheerful.”

  “Yes!” Greer smiled. “There's a ball this evening. Haven't you heard?”

  “A ball?” Conn frowned. “Well, that doesn't sound too exciting. Just means a lot of standing around in doorways, keeping an eye on drunken sons of dukes.”

  Adair roared with good-humor. “You daft devil. This one’s for us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes!” Greer was enthusiastic. “The Queen was so pleased with our service in quashing this uprising that she has decided to let us celebrate. It's going to be a proper do – in the hall, with musicians, and dinner, and...Well, a real party.”

  Conn felt excited too, then, suddenly. “Truly?” The thought was like the sun rose slowly inside him. If he could invite Glenna, then he could have a chance of making up.

  “Yes!” Adair grinned. “Well, that put a smile on your face, eh?”

  “It did. Thanks, Adair. Truly.”

  “See you later, Conn,” called Greer cheerfully. “Ball's tomorrow.”

  “Yes. Practice your dancing – we're to dance a proper reel.”

  Conn smiled. Adair's knowledge of courtly dances was clearly lacking. He was lucky to have an accomplished young lady to tutor him.

  He hurried off to go and find Glenna. He saw her hurriedly crossing the courtyard. “Glenna?” he called.

  She tensed, her whole back stiffening. Then she turned to face him. “Conn?”

  Her face was held carefully neutral and Conn sighed, feeling a cold wind blow across his heart. “Glenna,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

  “No need,” she said thinly. “Why would you be?”

  Conn sighed. “I'm an idiot,” he confessed. “I didn't mean to shout at you. What happened...it wasn't your fault.” This was hard. He'd little experience in apologies. All he knew was that he meant this one more sincerely than he’d ever meant anything. “I reacted out of my own anger and pettiness. It was wrong. I just wanted to keep you safe. I did it the wrong way.”

  He looked at his hands, feeling his heart aching. He didn't know what he could say to make her know how sorry he felt. All he knew was that he was. Deeply and sincerely, he was sorry.

  She was silent. He only knew she hadn't walked away because he could see the navy blue wool of her skirt where it touched the paving stones.

  “Glenna?”

  No reply.

  He looked up. She was looking at him and her gray eyes were filled with a series of complex emotions, the chief of which was tenderness. She blinked back tears.

  “Conn,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “I...” She shook her head, sniffing. “Nothing. I can't say...” She reached behind her belt, drawing out a scrap of folded linen handkerchief. She dabbed at her face.

  “Glenna,” Conn said hoarsely. “Please don't cry. I can't bear having made you so unhappy. I was an idiot...can you forgive me?”

  Glenna sniffed and sighed. She nodded. He reached over and covered her hand with his own where it touched her face, gently drying the tears.

  She smiled and looked up into his eyes. Her plump lips were moist and he bent down, gently tasting them.

  She murmured and leaned against him and he wrapped his arms around her. As their bodies pressed close, he felt his loins thrill with urgency. He wanted her so badly.

  When they stopped kissing, he looked down at her with wide eyes. His body was throbbing with longing and he could feel her small plump breasts pressed against his chest, making him ache with need for her.

  She smiled up at him, her long, tender fingers touching his face.

  “Glenna?” he said softly.

  “Yes, Conn?”

  “Will you come to a ball with me?”

  Glenna smiled. “A ball?”

  He nodded. Her eyes shone and he felt so happy to be able to bring her such excitement.

  “When?” she asked softly.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Oh!” Glenna looked so excited he couldn't help the thrill of joy that raced through him. “How wonderful.”

  “I am honored that you will be my dance partner,” he said sincerely.

  Glenna giggled. “Oh, Conn,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know.”

  Conn looked into her eyes with a level gray gaze. “It is not flattery, my dear,” he murmured. “But complete truth.”

  Glenna blinked. Her face was a picture of serene loveliness. He
smiled down at her.

  “I should go and join the others in the practice-yard,” he said dolefully. “But I am so pleased to have seen you.”

  “And I to have seen you,” she said softly.

  “Until tomorrow, then,” Conn replied.

  “Tomorrow.”

  Glenna smiled dazzlingly at him as she walked briskly across the courtyard back to her chambers.

  The rest of the day passed in a flurry of activity, and before they knew it, it was the next day; it was time for the ball.

  Glenna felt a frisson of excitement as she woke. She had told Lady Amabel of her prospects for the next evening. Her ladyship had offered her the loan of another dress, but had seemed strangely distracted and Glenna had not wanted to overburden her. She would use the other of the two dresses Lady Amabel had offered.

  “Of course, with a few changes here and there,” she had told her, smiling.

  “Of course.”

  She slipped into the dress that evening. It was a richer blue than the one she had worn the first evening she met Conn, the color of slate in rain. She slipped it on and buttoned up the back with hasty fingers. She had taken in the bodice a little and changed it slightly so that it was more modern.

  “There.”

  With her long hair arranged in an elegant rolled bun, she looked quite fashionable. She stared at herself in surprise.

  I look good.

  She twirled in front of the mirror, letting the dress whisper around her ankles. It was the first time she would be at a ball with her scars showing, and she didn't even notice them. The woman in the mirror had a long oval face, gray eyes with big lashes and red lips. The thin trace of a scar between the point of her nose and upper lip was all but undetectable.

  “Is that really me?”

  She giggled. After letting the dress swirl once more around her ankles, she hurried out.

  In the courtyard, she was met by Conn. He looked so handsome with his pale red hair brushed and slightly curling, his green eyes shining. They lit up as they settled on her tall, slender body coming down the stairs toward him.