The Highland Hero (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “No, lass,” Aili said, reassuring. “No, Alina's not unwell.” She frowned, though, her gaze focused on some far hidden vista and Chrissie felt subdued. Her mind had been taken completely from the immediate prospect of arrival so, when she felt the carriage going steeply uphill and suddenly slowing down, she jumped.

  “We're almost here!”

  “Whist!” the maidservant said, putting a hand on her chest in fright. “You scared me, young lady!”

  Aili laughed. “Oh, come on with ye! 'Tis only a bit of eager anticipation. What's wrong with everyone these days?”

  They all laughed and then the carriage was rolling the last few paces to the main gate.

  Chrissie alighted, feeling the bitter autumnal breezes whip her long linen dress about her legs. She had worn her favorite one, a soft yellow that brought out the color of her pale skin and blue eyes. She had spent ages that morning with her own maid, Ambeal, rearranging her hair. She wanted to look beautiful to meet her cousins again after so long. Heath was also with them, which made looking beautiful a high priority. Heath always complimented her and it was lovely to receive that sort of attention from him.

  “Whist, it's cold,” Aili hissed, standing beside Chrissie on the cold, hard hillside. The maidservant joined them and together they walked up to the main gate. Opposite the gate, the family of the castle was gathered on the stairs. Chrissie made out Alina's pale, oval face and long raven hair.

  “Alina!”

  Unable to hold back a moment longer, she launched herself across the space, knowing her behavior unsuitable for a young woman, but not caring just then. Someone laughed. It was a soft, warm laugh. Alina. Chrissie caught her in a great bear hug, wrapping her arms around the taller, slender woman's ribs.

  “Chrissie!” Alina smiled, looking into her eyes, stroking her head. Her own eyes were brown, so dark they were almost black, with heavy lids and long lashes. Her mouth was full and pouting below a delicate nose, both a legacy of her French aristocrat father. “I am so glad to see you,” she said gently, stroking Chrissie's fine, dark curls with a long, pale finger. Her voice was low and modulated, her beautiful eyes tender.

  Chrissie kissed her impulsively then looked to her side.

  “Amabel!”

  Her other cousin was there too, her lovely face framed in a tumble of fiery curls. Her green eyes slit with her smile, Amabel reached out and put a hand on Chrissie's shoulder. Chrissie enveloped her, too, in a warm hug. She kissed her cheek, pleased to see it pink with fine health.

  “Chrissie,” Amabel smiled. “Welcome to our home.”

  “Yes,” Alina echoed. “It is wonderful to see you.”

  Alina caught sight of the person behind Chrissie, and her eyes widened in surprise. Chrissie bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. She had not mentioned Aili was coming, and had wanted to save it as a surprise for Alina. It evidently was.

  “It's not...it can't...” Alina was saying, covering her mouth with a long-fingered hand, eyes wide with wonder.

  “It can and it is,” Aili grumbled, face tight with pain as she walked slowly up to the door. “Slainte, my dear daughter.”

  “Aili!” Alina was crying silently, tears making silvery tracks. She bent to embrace the older lady, who kissed her on the cheeks, ran a knotted hand over her hair, and then stepped gruffly back. Aili was not Alina's mother, though she had acted as mentor for her in her youth. She now straightened up and looked into Alina's eyes with a wry smile.

  “And where are Amabel and all the babes?”

  Amabel laughed. “Aunt Aili,” she said, her rich voice warm with her pleasure in seeing their aunt. “I'm pleased the babes seem to take priority over me, though I assure you “all” sounds far too many, for there are only two. Joanna and now my son.”

  “Only two now, you mean, lassie,” Aili said gruffly. “You'll be having so many babies that you're going to have to cast far to find suitable names for them.”

  The three cousins stared in surprise, but said nothing. Amabel smiled, and seemed, Chrissie thought, flushed and excited. The prospect of having lots of children was evidently no bad thing, at least as far as Amabel was concerned.

  “Come in first, Aunt Aili,” Amabel said carefully. “I'll take you to meet the babes.”

  They all walked in, and Chrissie was relieved to enter out of the cold. The riders who had protected the coach were already inside, Heath among them, though Chrissie could not see Blaine, who had, as head of the guard, also accompanied them to Dunkeld.

  Good.

  “Hello, cousin,” a voice said quite far overhead.

  She glanced up at her cousin's husband, aware that she had forgotten to greet him. She grinned at his handsome face, which was now transformed from its usual gravity with a merry smile.

  “Broderick!” Chrissie embraced her cousin Amabel's husband fondly. “How are you? And where are the babes now?”

  He chuckled. “They are the most interesting members of the castle, aren't they?” His eyes twinkled warmly. “Joanna is here in the hall – we couldn't make her stay upstairs, she was so excited to meet you – and Brodgar is upstairs in the solar, fast asleep.”

  “Oh, good!” Chrissie effused. She had not seen Joanna for a few months now, since Pentecost, and she could not wait to see how she had grown.

  She did not have to wait. Just inside the doorway of the great hall, clinging to the hand of a rosy-cheeked and smiling nurse, stood Joanna. Her gray eyes stared up at Chrissie, who bent down so she saw her more clearly.

  Her soft, pale face was the image of Amabel's – or Alina's, for in many features they were quite similar – and she had the full bow of Alina's French mouth. Her eyes were level, silver gray. They were, Amabel had said last time they saw each other, the image of her own mother's eyes, after whom the girl had been named. Even within the youthful face, it was possible to guess how lovely she would be when she grew older. At five years old, she was already a beauty, her dark hair shoulder length and glowing in the uncertain light of the lamps.

  “Hello, Joanna,” Chrissie said with a smile. “I'm your cousin.”

  “Hello!” Joanna said hesitantly. She stared up at her and covered her rosebud mouth with a hand. The nurse beamed. Amabel glowed.

  “She is beautiful, is she not? She is walking by herself now. I am so very proud of her.”

  “You shall have to see Brodgar, too.” Broderick spoke from behind them both.

  “Yes!” Chrissie exclaimed, turning to her cousin's husband. “Can you take me to him? Oh, please?”

  Broderick chuckled. “Amabel?” he smiled at his wife, who smiled back.

  “Of course, Chrissie. We can go there now.”

  “Alina..?” Chrissie glanced round the hallway, reluctant to be parted from either of her cousins for long now that they were here.

  Amabel laughed. “Alina seems fully occupied this minute.”

  Chrissie nodded. Alina was standing with their aunt in the shelter of one of the columns. They seemed to be in earnest conversation, for Alina was looking into Aili's eyes, nodding her head, her whole posture one of earnest listening. Chrissie lifted a shoulder in a resigned shrug. She could always see her lovely cousin later. Right now she wanted to see the new baby boy.

  “Can we go up now?”

  Broderick laughed. “Of course.”

  In the turret room, Chrissie bent over the cradle where little Brodgar slept. He had the firmer face of his father, with a stub of chin and a broad forehead and a soft smile. His hair was already black, fine tufts of it covering his small head. His eyes were closed, small hand closed tight in a fist.

  “He does sleep very deeply, it seems?” Chrissie questioned Amabel, who grinned happily.

  “He sleeps like an angel. Not that I know how they sleep. Or if they do,” she added with a laugh. “Joanna was so different! Always awake, always wanting to know what was going on. Her nurse told me she was quite impossible. Brodgar here is entirely different.”

  Chrissie bent down before
the cradle, looking at the babe with a sense of amazement. He was so tiny! How was it possible a human being could be so small..?

  “Would you like to hold him?” Broderick asked, glancing at Amabel, who inclined her head in permission.

  “Oh!” Chrissie beamed, pleased indeed. “Yes! I would. Very much indeed.”

  Broderick chuckled. He lifted the baby and placed him gently in her arms, showing her how to hold his head so that it did not loll back on his neck, which seemed as yet quite unstable.

  Chrissie looked down. The baby had woken and stared at her with eyes that seemed strangely colorless. She was sure they would settle into some definite color later on. He smiled at her, hesitant and uncertain, and she beamed back.

  “He's so beautiful!” she breathed.

  In the group who had followed them, Heath smiled approvingly. Chrissie flushed. His thin face was so handsome, his dark eyes kindled with warmth. He was so lovely, like some knight from an ancient tale.

  “You found a friend,” he said, smiling.

  “Yes,” Chrissie nodded, grinning at him. “Isn't he lovely?” She held him out to show Heath, who bent over to see him closer, but it was the person standing behind him who responded to her comment.

  “You look well thus, Chrissie.”

  Chrissie blinked. Blaine. She scowled at him.

  “Thank you for letting me hold him, Amabel,” she said quietly to her cousin, who reached eagerly to take the baby from her, smiling as he smiled at her, holding out a pudgy arm towards her face. She felt suddenly embarrassed.

  Why was he up here? What did he mean by saying that? The impertinent man! He had made her feel uncomfortable and she didn't like it. Feeling her cheeks burn, she looked resolutely into the fire, standing out of the way of the small crowd of relatives that had gathered around the baby boy on Amabel's shoulder. She heard someone come to stand beside her.

  “Lady Chrissie?”

  Chrissie scowled. He had done enough, so why on Earth wouldn't he just go away? She said nothing but kept staring into the flames. The last person she wanted to talk to was Blaine.

  “Chrissie?”

  “I don't want to talk,” Chrissie said tightly.

  She heard him sigh and felt, rather than saw, him walk back. She waited until she was sure he was gone, and then turned round. He had succeeded in unsettling her, so she watched the room for a while, waiting for her nerves to calm to their former cheeriness.

  The rest of the family had joined them in the solar, she noted. Alina was there with Aunt Aili, both of them looking somewhat distracted. Alina's tall, smiling husband stood beside her, his handsome face glowing with a kind of quiet contentment that touched Chrissie's heart. He had worked long and hard to win the right to wed Alina. They had succeeded, and their happiness was clear to all who saw them.

  “Chrissie?”

  “Yes?” Duncan had come over to greet her. “Hello, Duncan.”

  “It's lovely to see you, Chrissie,” Duncan said, smiling warmly. “Now, could I fetch you a tankard of warm ale? You need something to warm you up before we all go down to dinner together.”

  “Thank you, Duncan,” Chrissie said politely, “but no. I'm well where I am. Joanna is keeping me company. See how welcoming she's being?”

  She indicated to where the little girl wandered over, bearing some object in a firm grip to show her. Duncan grinned and moved off to see what his brother was saying. The little girl passed Chrissie the object and she took it. It seemed to be a seashell.

  It was a thing of fragile loveliness, all white and ridges and nacre on the inside. She sniffed it, smelling the distant scent of salt. Pilgrims brought such things back with them, to show they had been to the Holy Land. Chrissie wondered where it could have come from. Such things were rare.

  She held it, planning to ask Amabel. She was tucking it into her sleeve when Aili walked past.

  “What's that you have there, my lassie?”

  “A cockle shell. I think,” Chrissie frowned.

  Aili took it from her. She held it up to her clear blue eyes, and then nodded. “I hope you travel well, lass,” she said quietly.

  “Aunt?” Chrissie wrinkled up her face

  “You need to be a good traveler. It seems there are journeys ahead of you – this portends them, lots of them. Some you want and some you don't, and some to bring you somewhere new.”

  Chrissie frowned. “Aunt?” she asked again. Her aunt had handed her the shell, unseeing, and seemed to be looking at some vista only she could see. Chrissie felt a sudden chill of fear. Her aunt had just made a prophecy for her, but she had not the slightest idea what it meant. She reached out to her, feeling chilled. “Aunt?”

  Her aunt's face changed. It softened. Her eyes focused on her. She smiled. “Well, Chrissie dear. You don't want to sit there. It's too cold so far from the fire...come, sit by me.”

  “Chrissie!” Amabel smiled, suddenly appearing to join them. “Joanna? It's bedtime, sweetling. Go to nurse.” She gave Chrissie a grin and then reached out for Joanna, who still stood at her side, scooping her up in long arms, and carrying her to the nursemaid.

  “I'm not sleepy,” the little girl protested. She was almost asleep already, Chrissie noted, eyes heavy and half-closed with weariness. Amabel kissed her porcelain cheek, smiling fondly.

  “You might not be sleepy now,” she whispered, conspiratorial, “but you will be when you're all tucked up in bed. Yes?”

  “Maybe...” Joanna yawned. A young woman walked over from the doorway, and she and Amabel exchanged a tender glance as Amabel passed the sleepy child to her. She took her gently, smiling at her sleepy protest.

  “Thank you, Bronna,” she said gratefully to the young woman who was the nurse. “Now, then. We were saying we should head down to dinner soon. What say you, Chrissie?”

  “I'm hungry!” Chrissie said loudly. They all laughed. Amabel kissed her cheek and Chrissie felt her heart grow warm again. She was still worried, but the chill her aunt's words had wrought seemed to be fading now, and she felt at peace again. Dinner was a merry event.

  “...to family and friends!” Duncan proposed a toast. The great hall was warm and crowded, a fire merry in the massive hearth, sending ruddy orange light across them all.

  “Family and friends!” Chrissie said loudly.

  “Slainte!” someone else shouted. Good health!

  They all toasted again and Chrissie drank the ale, letting it spin warmth and sleepiness down to her toes. The dinner seemed long, especially for someone so sleepy, and Chrissie was grateful when at last Amabel and Broderick stood, which meant they could all now retire to their beds.

  “Goodnight,” Chrissie said, standing and pushing in her chair. She hurried out of the hall beside Alina, who also looked eager to leave. Chrissie made a mental note to ask her what had happened to upset her if she saw her alone tomorrow.

  In the hallway, she crossed to the darkened staircase that led to the guest wing. There, she found herself unaccountably alone. She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped.

  “Chrissie. Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb,” Heath's measured, gentle voice said gravely. “I was just a trifle lost.”

  Chrissie giggled. “Me, too! I think it's this way, though. Follow me!”

  They made a game of it, walking briskly up the eerie darkened staircase to where a torch burned, bracketed to the wall near where the turret began.

  “I think my chamber is this way,” said Chrissie. She recalled her chamber was on the left of the hallway, overlooking the grounds around the practice area.

  “Yes,” Heath said lightly. He did not seem inclined to go anywhere however and, when Chrissie turned to leave, he took her hand.

  “Goodnight, Chrissie,” he said gently. He leaned forward and, before Chrissie knew what was happening, his lips were on hers.

  She tensed. His lips were soft and warm, tasting of marzipan from dessert, sweet and heavenly. They moved gently over hers and his tongue flicked lightly over the curve
of her mouth as if seeking entry. Her heart thudded and she parted her lips, letting him gently probe between them. She found that his hands were on her shoulders, her arms holding him.

  They seemed to kiss for a long time and then he abruptly broke the contact, his own eyes slightly clouded, his lips wet where they had slid over hers.

  “Goodnight, Lady Chrissie,” he said gravely. “Keep safe. Sleep well. Until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” Chrissie echoed through a throat too tight for talking.

  Up in her bedchamber she undressed hastily, pulled a nightgown over her head and huddled under the covers, shivering and aching for warmth.

  That was her first kiss. It was gentle, tender, just what she should have wanted. Heath himself was so right, kind, thoughtful, correct. Any woman would be honored to have him to court her.

  Why then, do I feel so unmoved?

  Despite herself, as she dropped off to sleep, Chrissie could not help thinking that she felt more deeply when she argued with Blaine. The wild joy at beating him in a battle of words was deeper, richer, more satisfying than the tender kiss.

  Oh, Chrissie! Stop being silly. You're tired.

  Curled up under the blanket, the fire warming her, Chrissie tried to get to sleep. However, her mind kept on playing the kiss, over and over and over. When she finally did fall asleep, in the early morning, the first carts creaking their way through the drawbridge, she was surprised that she did not dream of Heath, but Blaine instead.

  Of all the people she knew, the only one who she could ask about this was Alina. Or their aunt.

  Who had spoken of journeys that she would not want.

  Chrissie curled up in a tight ball under the blankets. She almost wished she had not heard that warning, because now it would lurk at the back of her mind and she would not help but wonder what it meant. Filled with an uneasiness that was strange to her, Chrissie drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO