Highlander’s Unexpected Love: A Medieval Scottish Historical Highland Romance Book

by Adams, Alisa

  When the children had all finally shut their eyes the villagers and farmer’s wives wanted to know about her life at the castle, and the balls and parties she had attended. Had she ever met royalty?

  "No," Heather replied thoughtfully, "I have never been to London, and if I die without seeing it I will still die happy—I hope!"

  There was a chorus of laughter at this. Heather smiled, knowing that she was making these simple people very happy just by being there. The wind had died down a little, but the rain was still coming down with frightening ferocity.

  "Must be nice to live in a castle on a night like this," one of the women mused.

  "You would think so, wouldn't you?" Heather said thoughtfully, "I admit it is comfortable, and I know many people took shelter there, but I was never allowed to come and meet you, and I wish I had. Tonight, I would rather be here."

  "Bless you, milady," the woman whispered. There were tears in her eyes.

  Heather yawned. "Time for bed!" she announced, standing up and stretching. "Goodnight everyone. May each one of you have a good night's rest. I think we may be needing it in the next few days."

  There was a general chorus of goodnights. Heather was sleeping with Jessica that night, and she had insisted that Jessica take the bed while she slept on a mattress on the floor. She was asleep when Heather came in, her dark hair spread like a banner over the pillow.

  Such a sweet girl, Heather thought, she could easily be my sister. She bent down and softly kissed her cheek. "Good night, my friend," she whispered, "sleep well."

  15

  After the Storm

  Bruce was sleeping in the church itself. He had not realized how hard and narrow the pews were—they were certainly not meant to be slept on, especially by a man of his bulk, so he went to lie on the floor near the main doors. It was mostly men who were sleeping in the church and he was glad of this. There would be no more encounters with Jessica at least. Heather was not a problem since they avoided each other by mutual consent.

  He was thinking, not of the kiss with Jessica but the last one he had shared with Bridie almost six months ago now. Her lips had been cold and blue, slack with the opiates that were dulling her pain. Afterward, her eyelids had fluttered open for a few seconds and she had smiled at him. An hour later she was dead, never having known that he was not with her. That had been the beginning of his hatred of Heather.

  This kiss had been different. Jessica was very much alive, conscious and passionate. How much he had enjoyed that kiss! But he knew he should not even have contemplated it. It was far too soon after Bridie's death. He felt ashamed and guilty, although when he flexed his hands he was very glad about one thing. The cream was extremely effective. He did not know how he was going to face her but he would worry about that tomorrow.

  Outside, the wind was still howling like a chorus of banshees, but inside, although it was still noisy, there was a curious peace. Despite himself, he relaxed and went to sleep.

  The storm raged all next day, but the children went on with their school work while the men, with nothing else to do, made themselves useful by doing odd jobs around the church. They oiled creaking doors, replaced cracked tiles, and painted faded wooden panels. Many of them said afterward that they actually enjoyed it.

  The ladies cooked, gossiped, and sat listening to the children, marveling at how clever they were. They had a break at lunchtime and the two teachers sat down to some fresh goats cheese, apples, and bannocks, newly baked by Mrs. McFarlane. It was a perfectly ordinary meal, but it seemed like a feast.

  "I was so hungry!" Jessica said as she popped the last crumb of bread into her mouth. "I felt like eating one of the children!"

  The children were sitting at the next table and she pointed at each one with narrowed eyes as if choosing one of them. Eventually, she threw her hands in the air and said, "No—you're all too skinny!"

  There was a general chorus of laughter and Jessica looked at them fondly. She was so glad she had come to this place. Heather was standing looking out of the window when she saw the first sign of the storm breaking. Out to the east, there was a faint line of lighter cloud on the horizon, and the wind was dying down. Mrs. McFarlane joined her and Heather pointed.

  "Maybe it's over," she said softly.

  "Aye," Sadie said grimly, "but what has it left behind?"

  The two women looked at each other anxiously. then Heather smiled. "We will take care of it," she said, more confidently than she felt.

  Just then, she saw Bruce come into the hall. He went up to Jessica and she smiled at him, then they went out to the ante-room just outside the big room. For some unaccountable reason, Heather felt jealous, she knew not why. She sighed. In spite of everything, she missed Kenneth.

  Outside the door, Bruce stood in front of Jessica, hanging his head looking down at his hands. Eventually, he looked up. "I'm sorry aboot takin' advantage," he said quietly, "I dinnae know whit came ower me. Forgive me."

  "There's nothing to forgive," she replied, "heavens, we’re both young people—it happens. Both of us enjoyed it - I hope - and there has been no damage done."

  He smiled, silver eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's just too soon, ye understaun'," he went on, "but thank ye, Jessica. Ye're a kind lady."

  "I try to be." She laughed. "Will you be able to go home today?"

  He peered out of the window. "Looks like it," he answered, "I jist hope I have a hame left."

  If you don't, I will build you one, she thought, and a shiver passed through her. It was then that she realized just how much she would like to set up home with this man.

  "You didn't take your cream." She produced it from a cupboard. "Use it every day and when it's finished I can give you some more."

  "Thank ye kindly," he said softly, "but whit can I gie you?"

  "Give me a smile," she answered.

  He laughed instead and left with a wave. Jessica sat down, feeling shocked to the core. Where had that come from? It's only because he's tragic and helpless and lost, she thought, isn't it?

  Heather came to sit on a chair beside her. "It looks as if we'll be able to go back soon," she observed, "the storm looks as if it's blowing itself out."

  Jessica nodded. Her mind was still elsewhere.

  Heather frowned. "I saw you with Bruce," she said, "did he upset you? Tell me."

  Jessica shook her head. "Yes and no," she said cryptically, "he kissed me last night. No, that's not right. We kissed each other. I gave him some hand cream. He wanted to kiss my cheek to thank me, but I turned my head and he kissed me on my mouth. Heather, it was so good to be kissed again. This morning he came to apologize even though it wasn't his fault. We had a talk and parted as friends, but he is such a good man. Maybe when he has had a bit more time…"

  "I told you that I don't like him," Heather said, frowning. "Because he judges me as if I look down on everyone. But everyone is different, and if you love each other you will find a way, and I wish you luck, Jessica. You will both know when the time is right if you still want him by then."

  "Or if he ever wants me," Jessica said sadly.

  "If he has a brain in his head he will," Heather said kindly.

  Jessica looked up. "What would I do without you, Heather?" She smiled. "I was terrified when I first came here but you made me part of your family."

  "You belong in it," she said simply, "now are we ready to cram some more knowledge into these children's heads?"

  Bruce saw them come in, laughing. He was glad he had not come between them, but the sight of two beautiful women made him miss Bridie even more. He longed for and dreaded the day that he stopped. Longed because there would be no more pain, regret for that very same reason. He remembered her last smile, her last kiss, the way her skin smelled. How he wished he could have talked to her just one more time.

  An hour later he was able to go outside, and when he did the sun was peeping through the edge of a thick bank of clouds. The ground underfoot was still sodden but the storm was over.
Bruce stepped outside and lifted his face to the strengthening sunbeams. The air smelled fresh and clean and was scented with the perfume of heather and gorse. There would be much repair work to be done but Invergar was a close-knit community and neighbors always lent each other a helping hand. Bruce knew that he would get a lot of work for a long time but most of it would be unpaid. But Bridie's funeral had been paid for by neighbors, so he was merely returning favors.

  "It's so beautiful," Jessica breathed, taking in great lungfuls of fresh air.

  Bruce and Heather smiled at her, but not at each other. Heather could not even bring herself to look at him. There was great devastation. It had been wrought before by one of these storms, but this one had been even more destructive. Many of the farmers had lost crops, and although they would plant anew, the harvest was not going to be as plentiful.

  Fortunately, there had been few fatalities among the animals, since most of them had been rounded up and locked in barns before the worst of the weather had begun. Many of the cottages had had their thatched roofs blown off, but the cottages themselves were sturdy, made of local granite and able to withstand all but the most severe weather. Neighbors helped neighbors to rebuild since many of the villagers had at least a little experience in the craft of thatching. Laird McVey and James pitched in, ordered materials and brought down work parties from the castle. The first time James looked at one of the ruined cottages and scratched his head.

  "Father, how are they going to rebuild it?" he asked and his voice was genuinely distressed.

  "They will rebuild," his father replied, "with our help. But they have rebuilt before because everyone helps everyone else."

  James looked at the toiling villagers for a moment, then dismounted from his bay mare Dandy. "Then I will help too," he said grimly. He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt after taking off the stock.

  "Are you sure?" his father asked doubtfully, "it is very hard work."

  "It's time I got used to it, Father," James replied.

  He went over to one of the villagers and shook hands. The man was astonished, but took his hand and returned the handshake. James introduced himself to the rest of the building crew, and soon he was laboring industriously like everyone else. He had not known before that working people had opinions, read news sheets, and knew about the wider world. They were intelligent, they laughed at themselves, and occasionally at James, and they co-operated with each other.

  It was one revelation after another to James, and he found himself enjoying the day thoroughly. He was less keen next day when he tried to get out of bed and could hardly move, but it only took a few more days before he was as limber as the other men, if not yet so strong. But James was in for the long haul. He had realized at last that these were his people, and he was one of them.

  16

  Kenneth's Woes

  Bruce was kept especially busy mending implements that had been damaged or had simply worn out during the rebuilding effort. He was exhausted most of the time, but at least it kept him from brooding.

  Heather hardly saw him anymore, for which she was heartily thankful. She had one of the grooms take Tommy down to be shod, but she could not avoid him forever. They walked on the same roads, visited the village shop and went to church on Sunday at the same church because there was only one in Invergar. It was inevitable that they should meet at some point.

  One day about a week after the storm they happened to be walking towards each other on either side of the path which ran past the forge. Heather groaned and put her head down so that she did not have to look at him, but she looked up just as she was almost upon him. It was an awkward moment.

  "Good morning, milady," Bruce said with gruff politeness.

  She stopped walking and so did he. Something passed between them that was not hostile or unpleasant, just curious.

  "Good morning, Mr. Ferguson," she replied in the same tone, "can I do something for you?"

  Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead, then at last everything he had been holding in came tumbling out. "I hae been haudin' a grudge," he said, "about Bridie. I shouldnae hae been sae angry."

  "Your wife was dying," she said softly, "I should have been more understanding. I knew there was something wrong, but I insisted on having my own way. I was wrong and I have been sorry ever since. Please forgive me."

  "You werenae tae knaw." He shook his head. "I didnae tell ye."

  Then he looked up, and her lips parted as she saw the intense silver-gray of his eyes gazing straight into hers.

  "You are so—" she began, then shook her head, blushing. "You are so good. She must have been very special."

  He sighed. "She was everything to me," he said heavily.

  "Love like that is rare," she replied, "be glad you had it."

  He nodded, then said, "I must be on my way." He smiled at her. "I am glad we had a chance tae talk, milady. I dislike bad blood."

  "So am I," she replied, returning the smile. "Goodbye, Mr. Ferguson."

  "Milady." He nodded once and was gone.

  For some reason, Heather felt light as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She went up the hill towards the church and Jessica looked at her keenly. There was something different about Heather today. It looked as though there was a glow coming out of her.

  Heather got on with the day, but it was all she could do after school to keep herself walking up to the castle. The tug of the forge kept pulling her back and she wished she had an excuse to see more of Bruce. She told herself sternly over and over again that she was a lady and he was a lowly blacksmith, that she did not want to become romantically involved with him. But she was experiencing the same feeling she had had in the very beginning of their acquaintance before she had learned to dislike him so much.

  Jessica noticed immediately that whenever his name was spoken Heather sounded even angrier than usual. She had given up trying to understand their quarrel but thought it was a great pity that two people whom she liked so much hated each other so intensely. If she had known that Heather was hiding behind a façade and what her real thoughts were, she would have been absolutely astounded.

  Heather wanted no suspicion of how she felt about Bruce so she kept her feelings hidden. Besides she told herself, it was only a red-blooded woman's natural reaction to a handsome man, but Kenneth was handsome and she had never felt this dark excitement about him. She had never really kissed him passionately and she had to admit that it was because she had not wanted to. But she would kiss Bruce! She would kiss Bruce until she was on fire from the burning passion of it.

  Bruce could not get the image of Heather's deep brown eyes out of his mind. She always had her glorious red hair tied up, of course, but he could see it in his mind streaming out in a banner in the wind as she rode the big black stallion that she loved so much. And he could see it hanging in a plait down her back as she kissed him goodnight or spread out like the petals of a flower on the pillow as she lay waiting for him to join her in their bed.

  He came back to reality with a jolt. Where had that thought come from? He realized then that he had not thought of Bridie for hours. But that was a good thing, was it not? He shook his head and tried to get the image of Heather's face out of his mind, but for the first time since her death, he did not dream of Bridie but of Heather. Bridie had wanted him to move on with his life, so why was he feeling so guilty?

  Kenneth missed Heather more than he had ever thought possible. He missed her glorious shining red hair, her graceful yet sensuous walk, her musical lilting laugh, and the way she used to tease him about his toes, which she said were too small for his feet. He missed her kindness and the light kisses she would pepper all over his face, neck, and hands. But most of all he missed her eyes, her deep, dark brown eyes that seemed to bore into him and see into the very depths of his soul.

  She had never initiated a deep kiss or tried to carry their passion any further, although she was always teasingly affectionate. When he looked back, maybe it had been for
a good reason. He tried to think of some way he could get her back. She knew he was not overbearing, and she knew he was not a monster. All he wanted was for her to know her place and obey her husband. Was that too much to ask?

  He decided that he had to speak to someone about it and get some advice. His elder brother Roy might be a good idea, but at this moment business took precedence, and he was tired of thinking about Heather—it only made him angry and depressed. He had wasted enough time and now he had to see to his accounts. He sighed. Was this all that he had to look forward to for the rest of his life?

  He visited his brother Roy that night in his townhouse in Aberdeen, where he lived with his wife, Maria, and two young sons. The boys, Stuart, aged ten, and Kenneth Junior, aged seven, dived on him as soon as he got through the door, eager to pass on all their news. To Roy's eyes, Kenneth looked strained and weary.

  "What is wrong with you?" he asked anxiously, "you look terrible."

  He poured his brother a measure of whiskey and Kenneth tossed it down in one swallow. He held out his glass for another, and Roy poured it.

  "No more till you tell me what the matter is," he said sternly. He was as unlike Kenneth as it was possible for two brothers to be, dark-haired while Kenneth was fair, brown-eyed while Kenneth's eyes were a light hazel. He was short and wiry as opposed to Kenneth's tall heavy frame.

  "You look crushed," Roy said frankly, "is it, Heather?"

  Kenneth nodded. "She's abandoned me," he replied heavily, "called off the engagement."

  "But why, Kenny?" Roy frowned, "you two were so much in love!"

  Kenneth laughed bitterly. "I was," he replied, "she wasn't.”

  "I'm so sorry, Kenny," he said gently, "she will never find a better man."

  Kenneth smiled sadly at his brother.

  "Did she tell you why?" Roy asked curiously, "she must have had a reason."

  "She did—she does," he replied grimly. He paused for a moment then stood up and went over to the window. "She wants to be her own woman, make her own decisions, be equal to me."