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

by Emilia Ferguson

  DISCUSSIONS BETWEEN FRIENDS

  DISCUSSIONS BETWEEN FRIENDS

  The next day was quieter. The men went into the woods – it was not the season for a hunt, but there was time still to take a long ride or two before the snow set in – and the ladies stayed behind to sew, chat, and discuss their plans.

  They all sat in the solar, a tapestry spread between Alina and her sister, where they worked together on some complex feat of embroidering.

  Aili sat with them. She looked as if she, too, had not slept, Chrissie noted. She was not sorry not to be the only person who seemed to be suffering from lack of sleep that day.

  “...and I told him they should be careful. But will he listen? No!” Amabel was saying, her bright voice filling the chamber and making Alina and Aili laugh. Chrissie, who had heard only the last part of the story, grinned. It was evidently something about her husband, Broderick, whose legendary stubbornness was a constant source of amusement between the two wedded people.

  “I think he may have learned from experience, though,” Alina said dryly, leaning forward to cut off a piece of white thread. Her pale brow furrowed as she concentrated, and she caught Chrissie looking and smiled at her. Chrissie recalled how worried she had looked the day before and resolved to find out what was going on.

  “Learned from experience? Probably. Actually listen to me for a change? Well, what do you think?” Amabel replied.

  They all laughed.

  “Chrissie, dear,” Alina said, leaning in to talk to her while Amabel threaded a needle and gave some account of Broderick's last major outing to a hunting party, “You seem worried. Are you well?”

  Chrissie shuddered, forgetting for a moment how perceptive her elder cousin actually was.

  “I am a little...in my thoughts today, yes, Cousin,” she admitted.

  “You don't like him, do you?” Alina asked. Chrissie stared at her. She had been holding a piece of her own needlework, planning to finish it later that day. She dropped it.

  Chrissie stammered. “I...”

  Alina laughed. “The one who kissed you. You don't like him. I can tell.”

  Chrissie sighed. She had wanted to ask Alina that very question. She hoped they were talking in private, and when she glanced around the room it seemed to be so, for Amabel and Aili were bantering, and the wife of a visitor was sewing the tapestry with the two sisters, talking to her companion on her left. No one was watching them, so she decided to trust her cousin. “I don't know.”

  Alina smiled. “You feel something, it's true. However, I think you wonder if it is that way, or if it is a brother's love you share. Yes?”

  Chrissie bit her lip. How had Alina known anything about what she wanted to ask her? She had not even told her she had been kissed yesterday. Never mind telling her about her own doubts in the matter. Or about Blaine.

  “Alina...” she reached for her cousin's hand. “You are right. I do wonder. And I also wonder if I would know what love felt like. I mean,” she paused, licking dry lips, “I know it sounds silly,” she added, “but how do you tell when you love someone? No one ever tells you about that, do they? Well?”

  Alina let out a breath audibly. “No,” she said, giving Chrissie a gentle smile. “No, I suppose they don't. All I can tell you, dear, is that your heart knows. How your heart feels will tell you. Remember, there are lots of different ways to love someone. You love me, for example, and I you. However, my love for Amabel is different, and my love for Duncan, too. Do you understand?”

  “Yes...” Chrissie said, not at all sure if she actually did understand.

  “I think that you love both these men, but in very different ways,” Alina explained gently. “When you have to decide, you will know. Believe that.” Her dark eyes bored into hers, conveying a sense of certainty in their expression that reassured her.

  “Thank you,” Chrissie whispered softly. “I will.”

  Alina laid a long hand over hers and Chrissie sighed, feeling more relaxed than she had since that evening in the arbor when Heath had saved her from the rain. Blaine's face as he watched them had stuck in her head and she could not forget the anger on his face. Even here in the warmth, she shivered to see it. Alina did not seem to notice. She turned to Aili.

  “So you will be safe for the winter?” she asked.

  Aili snorted. “From the elements, yes. From the McDonnell? Maybe.”

  Chrissie stared at her. “McDonnell?”

  Alina gave a sidelong glance at her, as if to reproach their aunt for speaking so loudly and worrying her. Then she sighed.

  “The McDonnell, it seems, have been massing on their borders for some time. It seems like soon they will make their attempt to reclaim their disputed holdings. We think this winter.”

  Chrissie felt her heart start pounding sharply. There was talk of war? That winter?

  Aili snorted. “Not the disputed bits I'm worried about. Nor them either, I think. It's the legitimately ours bit that worries me more, lass. I think they've their eyes on it. There's more to be worried about there, to be sure, than all the disputed borders put together.”

  Alina bit her lip. She nodded. “I know, Aunt. And you are right. But we mustn't let ourselves worry over much. There is no cause for them to take the castle. If aught happens, you must all send for us. Come and stay here. If there is even word of a siege, we will break through. Trust me.”

  Aili grunted. “I trust you, lass.”

  The emphasis was on the “you”, and Chrissie wondered why. She looked at Alina, who was looking at her hands. At length she spoke.

  “You do not dispute our loyalty or our strength, I know,” she said quietly. “But I understand you do not think it will be as easy as I say. I hope we are wrong and that it really is nothing serious. I pray that.”

  “Well, then,” Aili said, seeming happy again. “We should talk about something else. What's the outlook for riding in these woodlands?”

  Alina, who knew their aunt had been a keen rider in her youth and before her seclusion, answered. “It is good riding, Aunt. Flat in most places, with broad trees and easy spaces between them. Not like...”

  “Not like the wood nearer Lochlann,” they finished together. They all laughed.

  There was a story in the family about Alina's mother, Lady Joanna, and her riding skills. Alina told it now, and they all chuckled at the end, where her suitor ended up dismounted by riding into a tree branch.

  Aili chuckled happily. “Oh, dears. It's been ages since I sat and talked and laughed like this. We must do this more often.”

  Alina and Amabel smiled.

  “You must stay longer, Aunt,” Amabel supplied. “We would all be delighted to have you.”

  “Yes,” Alina agreed quietly. If that was something to do with the impending birth, Chrissie did not know. All she knew was that she did not like to see Alina worried.

  That and the talk of troops massing on their northern borderlands made her feel particularly uneasy. She sat and sewed, but she could not get out of her mind the images of men and horses, blood, weapons, and dying.

  I do not want a war at Lochlann.

  More even than the danger and the horror, Chrissie worried for her family. For the people she loved. For Heath and Blaine.

  She thought of their faces, one lean and aristocratic, the other blunt and craggy. She thought of the way Blaine smiled, the way Heath beamed at her. She thought of Heath's voice and Blaine's belly laugh. The way Heath was so courteous and the way Blaine fought with her.

  When the time comes to choose, you will know. Trust yourself.

  Chrissie bit her lip and bowed her head. Please, she thought deep in her heart, let that be true. She needed to know how to choose between them. Her birthday was coming up and soon Uncle would wish to know her choice. She would need to know too.

  Before Blaine did something hasty.

  Blaine's stubborn cheekiness and Heath's gentle manners. Both were so different. Both made her feel such different things, but both made
her feel.

  She just had to hope that, with time, she would learn to choose between the two of them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CONFESSIONS TO MAKE

  CONFESSIONS TO MAKE

  “Stop it!”

  Blaine heard the shout, but did not care. He fought as if he was in true battle, the opponent in the practice ground a deadly enemy.

  “Ha!” he yelled triumphantly as he landed a blow on the man's shield that sent him staggering back. He stopped the direction of the swing and turned it back, thrusting at the man's unguarded side. They were training the troops, he and Duncan. Duncan had invited him to help him with the guard while he was here, the two of them having become close friends while Duncan was at Lochlann, two years back. He had probably not wanted him to be so violent, but Blaine did not care.

  I need to do this, to relieve my ire.

  Chrissie. She was on his mind the way a thirsting man thinks always of water. He had to have her. Had to be near her. Yet she spurned him. Heath had held her, that day in the rain. Heath talked to her. Heath could touch her hand at dinner, stroke her hair. He could do no wrong. Blaine was entirely neglected.

  It isn't fair.

  He stepped back, narrowing his eye as his opponent made a desperate swing for his head, caught it on his shield, and brought the sword down in a strike that sliced into the back of his head, behind the protective helmet he wore as if in battle.

  It was only a wooden sword, it was true. However, the force of the blow was such, that it struck the back of the man's head and he fell down, senseless, his body motionless on the flagging before him.

  Suddenly, everyone in the courtyard stopped. The woman who had been standing watching walked quickly away, probably to summon aid. The men all turned to face Blaine. The old armorer came striding over.

  “What have you done?”

  “Wait,” another voice said quietly. Blaine looked up at the blunt, handsome face of his friend. “Blaine?”

  Duncan inclined his head towards the side of the castle and Blaine nodded, knowing he meant him to go and wait there. Which was probably sensible, since the mood in the courtyard had suddenly turned angry. Injuring a stranger in a mock fight, when you were the only man from your castle in the yard was probably a stupid thing to do, Blaine reflected. He had just made more than twenty enemies. They would all be after him now, seeking for vengeance for their brother.

  Blaine waited, and worried, while Duncan checked the man. The woman had returned, with a priest walking swiftly behind her. He was evidently the castle healer, for he bent down to check the man, running a hand over his neck, then nodded, beckoning two of the others to carry him towards the benches. As they did so, Duncan joined him.

  “Blaine?” He laid a hand on his shoulder, drawing him aside. Together they walked in the shade of the colonnade. Blaine waited as Duncan cleared his throat.

  “Yes?”

  “Blaine, you know that was stupid. But I want to know what is bothering you. Why did you do that? You're not yourself. I can see it. No laughs, no humor. What's on your mind?”

  Blaine let out a shaky breath. Duncan had a hand on his shoulder, those hawk-brown eyes full of care. He felt a pain in his chest, knowing he had kept this to himself for far too long. It was nice, he thought, to have friends he could trust.

  “It's nothing. Actually, it's something. Chrissie.” He sighed.

  Duncan sighed out a big breath. “Oh.” He led him to a bench where the sunshine struck the wall, making it warm on the chilly, wintry day. “Well, that is something, for certain.”

  Blaine bit his lip, and met his friend's quiet gaze. “Yes,” he said quietly.

  “What is it?”

  “She...” Blaine hesitated. Talking of it made him realize just how foolish his quest was. He was the master-of-guard at the castle where she lived. Young for the post, it was true, but raised for his fierce capabilities. She was out of his reach. Her uncle was ambitious, to say the least. He would never, ever consent for his niece to marry a guardsman, even the captain of his own personal guard. The option was not even open to him, so he had no idea why he even entertained the notion. Except...

  “She is beautiful, is she not?” Duncan said with a fond smile.

  “Yes!” Blaine said firmly.

  Duncan laughed. “What is it? I know she's flighty, but...”

  “It's not that,” Blaine said quickly. “She isn't, anyway,” he added crossly, feeling his cheeks flush with warmth. Chrissie was lively, merry, and playful. Flighty she was not. “It's not that. It's her uncle.”

  “Ah. Our favorite man, you mean?” Duncan grinned.

  Blaine rolled his eyes. “Exactly.”

  Blaine knew of the trials imposed on Duncan to wed Alina. He had only narrowly succeeded. Had he not, she would have been married elsewhere. However, he had won through. Now Blaine faced a similar situation, only the odds were stacked against him.

  “You approached him?”

  “Ha,” Blaine said miserably. “As if I even could.”

  Duncan moved so that he could look into his eyes. “Why not?” he asked levelly.

  Blaine sighed. “Look at me! I'm...would you marry your daughter to me? Or niece, or whatever?”

  Duncan laughed. “Well, I wouldn't marry you myself. Not for all the bannocks in Edinburgh. But my daughter...certainly.”

  Blaine chuckled, feeling the easy warmth between them. “Well, I'd not marry you either. Even if you came with a dowry worth the lowlands. But you mean it? You'd agree to a match with your daughter and me?”

  “If I had one, certainly,” Duncan shrugged easily. “But I don't. Therefore, that's largely speculative. Still. You know what I mean,” he added, with a wry grin.

  “Thanks,” Blaine said, feeling at least a little reassured. “But Brien?”

  Brien, earl of Lochlann. He was Chrissie's uncle and so ambitious he had rejected countless suitors for his nieces. His own daughter married a duke, but even that did not seem high enough for him. Some said he sought a crown. He would never agree to part with some possible advantage, such as an advantageous match for Chrissie, for the sake of her marrying a guard.

  Duncan rolled his eyes. “Brien is quite a challenge,” he said mildly.

  “You could say that again.”

  “Brien is quite a...”

  “All right, you daft devil! I didn't mean it earnestly...” Blaine grinned, shoving him playfully in the ribs. Duncan wore a steel breastplate and it hurt his elbow, but he bit his lip and said nothing.

  Duncan cuffed him playfully on the head and sat there for a while in the winter light, thinking about the problem facing Blaine and his quest for the lady with whom he had fallen in love.

  “You only have Brien to convince?”

  Blaine snorted. “If it was that simple, I'd be out doing it,” he said glumly.

  “That simple? Brien is...” Duncan began, spreading his hands as if to indicate something beyond his power to express.

  “Well,” Blaine began grimly, “he'd be easier to convince than she is.”

  “Chrissie, you mean? Oh...” Duncan put a hand on his own shoulder, rotating it experimentally as if it hurt. “That is difficult.”

  “Mm,” Blaine said dryly.

  Out in the courtyard, the men had returned to their stations. Practice had, it seemed, been declared at an end. The courtyard was empty now, and the sun beat down on the pale flagstones, making the place warmer than it had been. Blaine watched a leaf – the last of autumn – drift across.

  “You talked to her?”

  “When she let me.” Blaine said.

  “Oh.” Duncan paused. “Well, then. My advice is that you have to try and win her.”

  Blaine stared at him. “Win her? How? I already saved her life once...almost, anyway. If that didn't work, what will? She doesn't even want to talk to me! Where do I even start? I don't think anything would impress her.”

  Duncan was silent for a while. “Chrissie is...playful. Fun loving
. Light of heart. You should be able to think of something that would appeal to her. You're quite alike, actually.”

  Blaine laughed sadly. “You're right. We are. I love that about her. She's so happy, so full of joy. I love her laugh.”

  He paused, seeing how Duncan was looking at him with a knowing look.

  “You love her, don't you?”

  “Yes.”

  Blaine muttered it stonily, but he knew it was true. He loved her. He wished he knew how to tell her.

  “Well, then,” Duncan said, looking at his fingertips then back at Blaine. “This is serious.”

  His eyes were kindled with the thought, it seemed, of some kind of challenge. Blaine felt at once as if a spark of hope lit somewhere inside himself. He also felt a shiver of apprehension.

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “I think you have to impress her.”

  Blaine scowled. “Yes, but how?”

  “Do something she wouldn't expect. Like go somewhere to find some special thing for her, or offer to take her riding somewhere she's never gone and couldn't go alone before. You know she loves riding so much.”

  “Yes,” Blaine agreed carefully. “But what else must I do? I mean...I don't know how to speak with her! What to say. I don't have any experience in that field.”

  Duncan chuckled. “Blaine! Stop it.”

  “Stop? Stop what?” Blaine squinted.

  “You're being so critical. You're a wonderful man. Any lass would like you.”

  Blaine snorted. “I haven't noticed her liking me. She doesn't even want to look at me.”

  “Maybe she's shy of you,” Duncan suggested. “Some girls are like that, you know.”

  “She always chats to everyone: servants, visitors, lords...” he sighed. “But not to me.”

  “Perhaps because you're not being yourself.”

  “Maybe,” Blaine conceded.

  The two of them were silent for some time. Out in the courtyard, some maids carried pails of water from the well to the castle. One of them saw Duncan and gave a cheery wave.