Heart Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “I can try,” he said gently. “I can try not to go. I can't refuse.”

  Amabel smiled, though she looked sad. “Please try.”

  He laughed softly. “Why, lass? Do you reckon something will happen to me? I'm still strong, even after my wounds.”

  Amabel shook her head energetically. “No! It's not that. It's...” She bit her lip. When she looked up, her eyes were swimming with tears.

  “What, lass?” Broderick drew her into a hug, holding her against his chest while he kissed her scented locks.

  She wriggled away after a moment and looked him in the eye. With her pale skin and red hair, she looked like fire made human. He shivered with admiration.

  “I think there's going to be a war on your lands.”

  Broderick shot up, sitting so fast he hit his skull on the wall and moaned. “Why, lass? Did you hear aught?”

  Amabel bit her lip. “I do not want to make you worried by passing rumors,” she faltered. “It's just...”

  “Just what?”

  “I heard something when I was in the market today. Something about the MacDowells, on the move. Toward Dunkeld.”

  Broderick stared at her. “MacDowells? In Dunkeld?”

  Amabel looked away. “I don't know. I heard it... perhaps it is lies.”

  Broderick reached out and gripped her arm. “Hauld on there,” he said gently. “I was not meanin' I did not believe you. Who said so?”

  She sniffed. “Boys. At the market. Cutting wood.”

  Broderick blinked. He would not usually listen to shopkeepers, but if Amabel was convinced, they must be convincing. “What did they say? Tell me.”

  “They said they saw a force of men. In the forest. Near Dunkeld.”

  “Where did they come from? Did they say?”

  “From the north,” Amabel replied. “I asked and...”

  “Clever lass!” Broderick said encouragingly. “So, from there you arrived at the MacDowells?”

  “Yes.” Amabel nodded. “It seemed the only adequate explanation.”

  Broderick thought about it. “I agree they're well-armed. But why, lass? Why MacDowell?”

  Amabel sighed. “I don't know, Broderick. I thought of something.”

  He looked up at her, interested. “What did ye think of?”

  “Remember we said... said the raid might not have been Bradleys? Too many men?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, imagine if it was not the Bradleys, but people pretending to be. Imagine if our feuding is all fueled by someone else, some third clan who stands to gain more?”

  “You mean someone set us against each other? Hoping to benefit?”

  “Exactly!” Amabel nodded vigorously. “And who hates the Bradleys and the MacAdams?”

  Broderick stared. “MacDowells.”

  Amabel inclined her head. She said nothing.

  Broderick gave a low whistle.

  “I don't know, lass! It seems far-fetched...”

  Amabel sighed. “Maybe it is.”

  Broderick lay back, looking at the ceiling. “Maybe it is. But it makes sense.”

  Amabel lay down. Together they kept a silence, each lost in thought.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was grave.

  “I need to go somewhere. Check some things. I don't know if this can be right. I want to confront MacDowell.”

  Amabel stiffened. Of all the solutions, that one was the most dangerous. If the MacDowell leader had the slightest inkling that Broderick knew his ruse, he would stop at nothing to finish him.

  “Dear?” she asked softly.

  “Yes?”

  “You have to, don't you? I can't say no.”

  Broderick chuckled. He looked down at her face, cupping it with his hand. “If anyone could tell me no, I'd listen to you,” he said calmly. “You have my heart. But I must go.”

  Amabel bit her lip. She could not let her husband leave on such a dangerous mission alone! As she heard his breath slow and he gently dozed off, she made a plan.

  There were two things she could do. She could either persuade him to at least consult with Uncle Brien before leaving, or she could do something more dangerous.

  As she lay beside him in the darkening bedroom, she made her plans. They were wild, they were perilous, they were dangerous. But they might work, and that was all she wanted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  PLANS IN THE DARK

  PLANS IN THE DARK

  “...and so, I think the best way is to address them.”

  “I too, sister.”

  It was late afternoon, dusk settling on the castle. Amabel and Alina were sitting in the upstairs bedroom that was Alina's own. The long, arched window looked out onto violet sky where the flitting shapes of swallows darted fitfully.

  They were discussing the plan.

  Alina sighed. She leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. She looked tired. As Amabel watched, she raised a slim hand and rubbed her weary eyes.

  “I would not let you go alone, sister.”

  Amabel bit her lip. “I should. It is dangerous.”

  Alina took her hand. “Which is exactly why not.”

  Amabel sniffed and gave a giggle. “I suppose you're right.”

  “Of course, I am.”

  The two of them sat back together, thinking about the plan. When Amabel told her sister of her worry, she had consulted Aunt Aili. The older woman suggested inviting Bradley here. But Amabel could not imagine it.

  “We couldn't invite them,” she said now to Alina.

  “I am agreed. So, we go.”

  That was the essence of the plan. They would ride to the Bradley stronghold. The other one, twenty miles from the fortress Broderick captured. There, they would confront them with their version of events. If they could gather proof that they played no part in raiding Dunkeld...

  “He will have to believe us,” Amabel said strongly.

  Alina nodded. “I am sure he will. But first, we need an excuse to go.”

  Amabel bit her lip. She had not thought of that. A riding-trip would not take them several days, and she did not want the guard scouring the woods. They needed a reason for a week's absence from Lochlann.

  “We could visit our cousin,” Alina asked. By that she meant Colla, Uncle Brien's daughter.

  Amabel bit her lip. “We'd be away longer than a week if we did that. Someone'd guess.”

  Alina nodded. “That is true, sister. Well, then. Any reason for us to leave? I could be gathering herbs, visiting the cottagers...”

  Amabel thought about it. “Those would work. But what about me?”

  Alina frowned. “Perhaps we are curing you?” she asked teasingly.

  Amabel stared at her. “Alina? That's a good idea!”

  Alina laughed. “Are you sure of that? Of what?”

  Amabel could feel a plan taking shape almost right before her. She told Alina excitedly as it unfolded. “Broderick and I would like a child. I'm worried about it. So, the two of us visit Lochgrier Abbey.”

  Alina stared at her. “That is an excellent idea!”

  Amabel looked down, modest. “We go, saying that we want to pay our respects at the shrine there. To Saint Margaret. For a safe delivery.”

  Alina shone with pleasure. “That is a wonderful plan.”

  Amabel swallowed, feeling strangely shy. “Thank you.”

  Alina laughed. “Well, then!” We should take ourselves downstairs to dinner. I find I am quite hungry after that planning.”

  Amabel nodded. Her appetite returned. She had a plan. She and Alina would leave soon. They would find out.

  Downstairs, Amabel and Alina slipped into the solar. Dinner was laid, but their uncle seemed to have left early, meeting in the hall with envoys from the east. Amabel took her place at the table, glancing across at her sister.

  Alina sat beside Chrissie, who seemed to be engaged in telling riddles with Heath. The two of them were giggling like children.

  Broderick, Amabel noticed, ha
d also left. The place beside hers had been recently cleared and she could still see a slight damp where the wineglass had stood. Her heart thudded.

  Is he discussing with Uncle? Are they planning some campaign?

  She dismissed the thought, trying to remain calm.

  Alina caught her eye. “Do try and eat,” she encouraged.

  Amabel nodded. She reached into the center of the table for a crusty piece of loaf and crumbled off a piece, chewing absently as she listened to the conversation around the table.

  “...and one day I'll be a lady and then I'll be able to dance as much as I like!” Chrissie was saying. Her laugh lit the small, cozy space and made it warmer.

  Heath smiled. “My lady, it is shocking that anyone restrict that. You're a fine dancer.”

  Chrissie dimpled. “Thank you, Heath,” she mumbled, looking at her dinner. “You're not bad either.”

  Heath laughed and Alina smiled. Amabel caught her look and winked back.

  If only life was always this peaceful. She absently passed a soup-bone to the hound that came padding in to sit behind her chair. So genteel and innocent, filled with simple pleasures.

  As the candlelight flickered across the merry gathering, Amabel found herself memorizing everything. The way Alina's dark gown glowed in the flamelight. Her serene, angelic smile. Chrissie's lively giggle. Heath's reserved calm.

  Stop it Amabel. You will return to them. But deep in her heart, she was not sure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  PREPARING FOR JOURNEYS

  PREPARING FOR JOURNEYS

  Amabel was in the bedchamber, eyes closed, watching the firelight play on her closed lids when she heard the door creak open. She held her breath, smiling and counting as her husband walked in, stumbling a little as he crossed the floor.

  And three. And four...

  “Ouch!”

  Amabel giggled as he walked towards the bed. He paused, swearing under his breath. Then she heard him stripping down his clothes and sliding into the bed.

  She rolled over.

  “Husband.”

  “Mm,” he replied sleepily. He kissed her brow and traced long fingers down her back.

  She smiled and snuggled closer. “You were at a meeting?”

  He sighed. “I talked to your uncle. We talked of raids. I am sorry, dear. I will tell you in the morning. Now, can I forget?”

  He smiled and drew her into his arms.

  Amabel bit her lip. She could already guess what he would say. Alina had agreed with her that Uncle would not rest on victory. If he saw a chance to finish his enemies, he'd take it. And following the successful campaign, he would want to complete the defeat utterly.

  “You don't need to say,” she said softly. “I can guess it.”

  She was looking into his eyes, stroking his neck.

  He nodded. He bent forward and drew her close. “You know I'm going,” he whispered softly. “But you know I don't wish it.”

  Amabel nodded. She closed her eyes. It was her worst fear.

  “You will go to the MacDowell?”

  He shook his head. “News from Dunkeld is good. My brother reports no incursions on the border from the north. I think this threat is something else. Your uncle agrees.”

  She bit her lip. “He thinks it's MacAdam?”

  Broderick nodded. “It's a sensible conclusion. We besieged their allies. We defeated them. Of course, they march on us.”

  Amabel nodded. Perhaps that was correct. It made more sense.

  “You don't think…”

  “Hush,” he said gently. “I have my thoughts. But I cannot refuse aid to Brien. He's my ally.”

  Amabel blinked rapidly. “But... what of Dunkeld?”

  “That is what I fight for,” he said softly. “I may have brought revenge on my own head for my actions during the siege. The best way to protect it is by joining with your uncle. Crushing Bradley and MacAdam.”

  Amabel wanted to say more. But she knew she could not argue. It could be true. They could not know yet. Not until she asked the Bradley.

  She stroked his hair. “I believe you,” she said in a small voice.

  Broderick laughed. “I don't believe that. I am only half-convinced myself. But what else can I do? Dunkeld cannot withstand large forces.”

  Amabel nodded. She understood. But she would not let this venture take place without some effort.

  “Dear?”

  “Mm?” he asked, turning so that he lay beside her, her back against him. He pressed closer still.

  “I was thinking,” she said, shifting to face him.

  “Thinking?” he asked, stroking her hair gently.

  “About a child.”

  Broderick stared at her. His dark eyes narrowed, then widened. “What?”

  His face was so suffused with joy that Amabel couldn't help giggling.

  “Yes. That's what usually happens. When you...” She blushed.

  Broderick roared with laughter. “Yes, I heard that.”

  They both chuckled.

  “You can't know yet?” Broderick gaped at her.

  Amabel shook her head vigorously. “No. Not yet. I won't know for a month yet. At least. And that's why...” She trailed off, looking at her hands.

  “Why what, sweetness?”

  “Why I want to pray,” she said. “At Lochgrier Abbey.”

  “There is a shrine there?”

  “Yes. The patron saint of childbearing – she is honored there.”

  “My dear,” Broderick said, leaning forward to kiss her brow, “of course you should go.”

  Amabel smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

  Broderick laughed. “I cannot restrict you. But I would be happier if you left before I depart?”

  Amabel nodded. That was perfect. “I would like that, too.”

  “Good.”

  “Mayhap tomorrow?” Amabel suggested.

  “Tomorrow!” Broderick looked shocked. “I suppose you...” He paused. “I cannot say no. I would prefer a day later. And I would like you to take an escort? Please, dear?”

  “I'll take Fergall,” she promised. “If you'll spare him?”

  Broderick nodded readily. “No one I trust more.”

  They lay side by side a while.

  “You're sure it's safe? The roads are perilous.”

  Amabel smiled. “I would prefer not to travel alone.”

  “Good! Please do take a companion.”

  “I thought to take my sister,” Amabel said immediately. “She, too, would wish to pray there.”

  Broderick breathed out. “Whew! Well, then. That is perfect.”

  Amabel smiled warmly. “Yes, it is.”

  She snuggled in his arms and the two of them lay quietly a while then, gently, so gently, began a slow exploration. As Amabel felt herself ignite under his touch, she closed her eyes.

  Please, let me be safe. I cannot turn my back on this love.

  It was her last thought until much later when, content and sleepy, she lay in his arms and together they drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow would be a day of plans.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  FORGING THE WAY

  FORGING THE WAY

  “It is good to see you.”

  Broderick smiled wonderingly at his brother Duncan where they sat together in the turret room, afternoon-sunlight streaming in through the arch behind them.

  “It is good to see you,” Duncan agreed. He ran a hand over his golden-brown hair. “I needed to bring the news.”

  “Yes. You believe there's danger?”

  Duncan blew out his cheeks in a sigh. “I can't truly say.”

  “But the woodsmen saw something?”

  Duncan sighed. “Yes. Just some scouts. Or who they thought were scouts. It might well have been a misunderstanding.”

  Broderick leaned back against the wall, striving for calm. His brother had arrived that day, responding to the message Broderick had sent two days before. He had thought, then, that his future was clear-cut: a ride
back home. A welcome feast. A simple life.

  That was before these rumors of a vast army began. Duncan had accepted his invitation to Lochlann with the express purpose of discussing them. As yet, they had no proof of it – only the rumor of a few scouts having been seen in the woods. They had sent out scouts of their own, but so far two had returned. They said they saw traces of horsemen, but no major force. The other three, riding further afield, had not yet returned to the fortress. Duncan evidently believed his men that something was afoot, and Broderick was feeling convinced.

  “And it's the MacAdams?” Broderick asked carefully.

  Duncan sighed. He looked absolutely drained. “It makes sense.”

  Broderick grunted assent. “I also think that.”

  His brother turned to face him, a frown framing tawny eyes. “Is there another suspect?”

  Broderick snorted. “I can't yet say.”

  “Tell me.”

  “My wife heard just recently that MacDowells were coming,” he ventured slowly.

  “To our home?” Duncan's brow shot up. “But why? We're not enemies.”

  “Exactly.” Broderick breathed out. “That's what I said.”

  “There must be some mistake,” Duncan agreed. “I mean, I can see why Bradley called in aid. You made a right mess of them.”

  Broderick snorted. “I suppose. And in so doing I unleashed this army.” He looked into his brother's eyes, his own troubled. “Not clever, eh?”

  Duncan sighed. He squeezed his brother's arm gently. “It's not your fault.”

  Broderick sighed. “Certainly, looks like it.”

  “Only to you. The rest of us think it'd have happened anyway.”

  Broderick closed his eyes. “I hope so, brother. For now, will you join me? This is what we must do...”

  Broderick outlined his plan. It was a bold one, which involved assembling the Lochlann fyrd – the tenants and serfs owing fealty to the castle – and leading the whole force against the MacAdam stronghold. In the meanwhile, they would send a smaller force, under Blaine, around the back of the supposed approaching army. Duncan would lead an attach from Dunkeld itself. The idea was to surround the oncoming troops, cutting off their exits.