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Protected By The Highlander
Scottish Romance
By: Veronica Wilson
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Protected By The Highlander
Scotland, Southern Highlands
Spring, 1763. Morning.
Angus MacDonnell stood proud on a hilltop, as he did almost every morning. The cold air always made him feel at peace, even when the day promised to be less than enjoyable.
“My Laird! Dougal requests an audience with ye!” a young man said from behind him.
Dougal? This must be important, then! Angus mused as he turned around. There were five men in total, including the young one. Dougal towered over them, standing tall and strong despite his age.
“Top of th’ morning to ye, my Laird,” Dougal said.
“Aye, top of th’ morning to the lot of ye. Now what’s this about?”
“There’s been some whispering among our enemies to the north. ‘Tis bein’ said that they’re expecting one of their vipers to come by later today. Somewhere around noon, by my estimates,” Dougal explained.
“And ye think it would be wise for us to give th’ English pig a piece of our minds?” Angus asked.
“Aye, that’s exactly what I think.”
“What a coincidence. Th’ same thought’s been jumpin’ around my head as well!” Angus concluded.
Who knows? Perhaps today might turn out to be a good day after all.
Scotland, the slopes of Ben More
Noon.
Visibly annoyed, Elizabeth couldn’t help but stare out the window of her coach. She lifted her head toward the coachman and spoke. “Can this carriage not go any faster?”
“Not here, it can’t! This isn’t England, milady!” the man answered without giving her as much as a glance. The beautiful Elizabeth wasn’t used to not being stared at, but this time it was a welcome change of pace. “These are the highlands of Scotland. We’ll be lucky if we get anywhere without losing a wheel or tipping over!” he continued, as if spurred by her silence.
“Well, that is just marvelous! For the money I’m paying you, you should find a way to work around it!” she said, now observing the scenery rather than the man. The surrounding mountains appeared beyond harsh, yet possessed a rough kind of beauty, a kind of beauty she hadn’t known existed before. Too bad the coachman isn’t half as diverting.
“And the amount of money you’ve offered is the sole reason I even took this job, milady. Besides, I wouldn’t worry about speed as much as safety out here.”
Safety? “Just what are you referring to?” she asked, her gaze turned back toward him.
“The highland is a dangerous place, love! And when I say that, I mean more than the scenery.”
“Be more specific, please. The natives? Local wildlife? What?” She could feel her fingernails biting into her palms as she spoke. This man is beginning to annoy me.
“All that, and more, I’m afraid. Otherwise, people would’ve jumped at the chance of transporting you over the border! Have you ever thought about that, milady?” Hints of a smile could be detected in the man’s voice.
“Oh, I’ve thought about a great many things, good sir. Enough to make me undertake this trip, after all. You think I’ve made this decision lightly?”
“Indeed I do. But what do I know? After all, I am just a coachman, milady. And, respectfully, no matter how much thought you’ve given this, it couldn’t possibly have been enough. There’s the rest of the world, and then there’s Scotland. In my own experience, the two don’t mix. At all.”
“I see,” was all she could say after a few moments of contemplation.
After several long moments, he interrupted the silence. “Say, would you mind sharing your reason for coming here, milady?”
“As a matter of fact I would, if you do not mind. It is my business, and it would please me if you stayed out of it,” she replied in an annoyed tone. He may know his trade, but I do not like this man one bit.
“Too bad. Sorry to bother you, then. Must be one hell of a tale!”
“You are forgiven. Just do not do it again, please,” she said as she retreated into the coach, pulling her long blue sleeve behind her so it wouldn’t trail outside . The scenery was indeed breathtaking, but the man had reminded her of unwholesome things, and she felt like being by herself. She laughed grimly. A hell of a tale, he says. Perhaps it is. For me, it was more ‘hell’ than tale, though.
It was only two days ago that she had made the fateful decision. Her lands and title, even the money that by all accounts should have been hers—she would leave it all behind and flee into the unknown. Anyone else would kill for a chance to be in her shoes. Me, I would rather kill myself than do what was expected of me.
She sighed, pulled out a mirror from the large reticule to her side, and observed her reflection. A beautiful, heart-shaped face. A pair of sizeable, almond-shaped eyes parted by a small nose. Beneath it all, full sensual lips the color of natural red. And finally, a full head of waist-length blond curls crowned that beautiful visage. Everything worked in tandem with her sky-blue dress, producing a figure of angelic, feminine beauty. Yet it all amounts to nothing, she mirthlessly thought, putting her mirror back in its place. It matters not at all when I am to be married to that, that fop! She found the word difficult to articulate, even within her mind. She had heard of the expression in the past, but didn’t know full well what it meant. Not until she had met her betrothed, that is.
Painfully thin and weak of chin (although his nose more than compensated), the young William Guilford had to use generous amounts of make-up and expensive clothing in order to make himself presentable, and in the end it didn’t even help him all that much. What little he said, Elizabeth wished that he hadn’t, and his body language was painful to watch. I know that you are rich and come from a great family, William—no need to stick it in my face like that! Even though the prospect now lay behind her, she couldn’t help but get angry. Once again, she buried her fingernails into her palms.
I had no other choice, she thought as she recalled stealing a hefty amount of money from her mother’s room while the woman was in one of her stupors. She had no exact idea how she would escape, but one thing was certain: for as long as she remained in England, she would not be free. Where there is civilization, there are Cornwalls, her father would always say. She took it to heart. Scotland was supposedly a wild land, populated by unkempt savages; or at least, so she was taught. Her father in particular had always had an unbridled hatred toward the savages that supposedly lived there.
Let us see you find me here, in the highlands! she thought now as she smiled in her coach, her mind back in the present. A part of her even hoped that she would be found. The look on her father’s face would have been priceless.
Still, perhaps I should have taken a hint and reconsidered this, she thought, remembering how less-than-keen the coachmen had been, even after she had unfastened her bag and shown them her money. Only the man up there wanted to take me, and even he was reluctant. She stared at the floor like that, lost in her own thoughts.
Oh, well. What’s done is done! She reminded herself of the finality of her decision. She was well en route toward the closest highland city, as she had told the man. He had told her that it was a place called Oban. There was no turning back.
She laid herself back, feeling liberated. There was no way to tell what was going to happen next, but she was free. Free from William and from the gilded cage her family had prepared for her. Who knows? With the amount of money I’ve… borrowed, I might be able to create a good life, she reassured herself. And with that thought, she drifted into a light sleep.
Hours later
Being less than comfortable, and a light sleeper as well, it didn’t take much for Elizabeth to be roused from her slumber. The coachman was yelling something, although she couldn’t quite make out what it was. Does he not see that I do not wish to be disturbed? She sluggishly stuck her head out the window, preparing herself to reprimand him. When she saw what was happening outside, she immediately wished that she hadn’t.
Oh, by the Lord, no! she silently exclaimed. The carriage was being surrounded by several dozen men who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Muscled, hairy, and adorned in a fashion that she had never seen before, they did not seem pleased to see these interlopers. Are those… skirts?
The coachman tightened his reins in an attempt to make the horses stomp over the first two men that were in his way. He was about to say something too, when an arrow pierced through his neck and stayed there.
Faced with his imminent death, the man quickly lost control of his carriage, and instead of continuing onward, the horses changed direction. Now shocked back into consciousness, Elizabeth pulled her head back inside and grabbed the edges of the window, preparing herself for an imminent crash. Rumbling, crackling and tumbling, the coach jumped and trembled underneath her. This is it! I am going to fall over a ledge! She gritted her teeth, trying to persuade herself that she had made her choice, and that there was no room for regrets. It did not work at all, and her whole body shivered in response.
Then, after a good deal of rattling, the carriage abruptly stopped. The force of the halt propelled her forward, and only a timely interception of both her hands prevented her from breaking her nose when she hit the seat on the other side. Has the coach fallen into a small ditch, then? The thought was comforting, but the idea of being surrounded by barbarians was far less so. What are they going to do to me? She bit the inside of her lip, causing it to bleed just a little bit. Footsteps could be heard from the outside, a clear indication that the wild men had no intention whatsoever of leaving her be. Perhaps there may be room for regrets yet.
A shadow fell over her window, apparently belonging to a man who was not quite close enough to stick his head inside and look. A moment later another one followed. Someone would look inside any moment now. The image of her coachman being shot through the throat showed up in her mind, and continued repeating again and again. Is that what they are going to do to me? Or is it going to be worse? She could feel her heart pounding faster. Her breathing would have increased in pace as well, had she remembered to do it at all.
“Top of the day tae ye, lassie!” a voice rang out, right from the outside of her window. It was masculine and powerful, yet melodic in a strange way. She had never heard a Scotsman speak before, and the way he rolled his R’s would have sounded comical to her, were she not in her dire situation. Having been completely overtaken by instinct, she did not reply. Instead, Elizabeth sat on the floor of the coach, pressed her back against one side, and hugged her knees with both arms. She had no plan, and by all accounts had consigned herself to her fate. Whatever that fate might be.
“Are ye going tae step out? I dinnae wish tae drag such a bonnie lassie out by th’hair!” The man spoke again.
The Lord help me. She made herself rise, and felt that she did not shake as much as she expected to. This man’s voice, wild though it might be, does seem to calm me somewhat. She grabbed the side of her window again and started to pull herself out. Almost immediately a pair of strong, hirsute hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her out effortlessly. Just what is he trying to do? she asked herself as the man lifted her up, but as she ended up staring into the man’s green eyes, she found herself unable to do anything else.
He was beyond handsome, although in an unusually rough way. His face was strong, with a week-old red beard. His hair was of the same shade and very long. His body rippled with bulging muscles and nearly every inch of it was covered in thin, fiery hair. He wore one of those skirt-things, yet it was amazing how it did not detract from his appearance.
“Now, is it nae better out here?” he asked as he put her down on what passed for ground in this wayward country. It was uneven and rough, and she was certain that it would have cut into her feet were she not wearing shoes.
“Who are you, and what are you going to do to me?” she asked, unable to comprehend just how disrespectful her tone made her sound.
“That isnae the way tae speak to th’Laird!” one of the men exclaimed from the side. “Show proper respect, or I’ll chop off yer tits n’ slap ye with ‘em!”
The man who had pulled her out of the coach did not say a word. Instead, he stared at her with a mixture of amusement and… something else.
Oh, Lord… he hasn’t taken a liking to me, has he? She had undertaken her journey to escape from a man, not to leap into the hands of another. No matter how strong those hands might be. She shook the thought from her head, causing another bemused reaction from the man.
“Since ye asked nicely, I’ll indulge ye. This man we’ve shot through th’ neck was a regular blackguard. Works with one of them ransom-asking clans way up north. If we dinnae stop him, he’d have sold ye to ‘em the way one’d sell a hen!” The men laughed at his remark, and he smiled as he talked.
Elizabeth was so shocked she had to cover her mouth with her hand. So, those were his intentions. I was a fool. Then, having composed herself, she again took a posture that denoted her excellent breeding. “Then I am afraid that I have misjudged you, good sirs. Thank you so much for your assistance!” She made a polite bow as she spoke. The men did not seem impressed.
“Why, would ye look at that!” another man said with a mixture of curiosity and outright disdain. “We’ve got ourselves a proper English lass here! Tell me, lassie, dae ye perform tricks?”
Most of the others laughed. The man who had pulled Elizabeth from the carriage did not. “That’ll be enough of that! We’ve a long way back home, and I dae not intend to waste it here! Move!” he declared as he directed a disapproving stare toward every present party, Elizabeth included. What little safety she felt due to the way he looked at her evaporated that very instant.
“Sir? What about me?” she forced herself to ask. The way everyone turned to look at her made her wish that she hadn’t.
“What dae ye mean, ‘what about ye?’” He chuckled slightly as he posed the question.
“Well, I am down a coach, and I am afraid that I do not know this area… well, at all! I could do with some directions, given that the lot of you have just saved me from this man!” She spoke in the most courteous manner she could. Hopefully, that will soften them up a little bit. Then, she remembered the contents of her purse, opened it up and showed it to them. “I am not completely deprived of assets, as you can see. If anyone would be willing to escort me to the nearest town, I would be more than willing to offer adequate compensation!”
Like a cat grabbing a ru
naway mouse, the man who had helped her out swiftly pulled the purse out of her hands. He took a single look at the contents, smiled a little bit, and closed it up. “Yer offer is mighty generous, lassie, but I’m afraid I’ll have ta refuse!” As if he had said something else entirely, he let the purse hang around his waist. On such a body, it appeared almost comical. Almost.
He has stolen my money! Her nails bit into her palms once again. “What am I to do, then? Deprived of money, and in a foreign land, surely I’ll expire! I urge you to reconsider!”
The men laughed in unison. “Oh, ye won’t expire, lassie! Although after a while, ye might wish that ye had! We’re taking ye with us!” He exclaimed with a wicked grin. The men around him seemed to approve, albeit their own expressions appeared even more sinister.
Just what have I gotten myself into? she tried asking herself. At the moment, the boring-yet-harmless William didn’t seem all that bad.
That night
It seems as if everyone is asleep. She opened her eyes, lifted her head up, and observed the improvised camp. It had been dark for a good while now, but the moonlight was so intense she could practically see everything. The sound of many men snoring was strong; a clear indication that she now had a chance to run toward freedom. But where do I go? she asked herself. Her money had been snatched away by that man who appeared to be their leader. Laird, they called him? What a stupid way to say ‘Lord.’
Despite her better judgment, she forced herself to slowly rise from the ground. Her heart pounding as she stood up, she took another careful look around. The snoring was as loud as ever. Just how these men manage to sleep so soundly on such a rough excuse for a bed is beyond me!
Protected By The Highlander (Medieval Romance) Page 1
