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

by Emilia Ferguson

  Duncan leaned back, fingers tapping his chin. “A fine plan, Broderick.”

  Broderick felt himself grin. He looked awkwardly away, not wanting to show his brother how much that meant to him.

  “Thanks.”

  Duncan clasped his shoulder. “We should go down,” he observed slowly. “It's almost dinner time. And I would like to see your lovely wife, and her sister, too.”

  Broderick looked at him, grinning. “Oh?”

  Duncan blushed and shoved his brother playfully. “You know I'm interested.”

  Broderick laughed. Together they stood. “Yes, I know them. And you're a fortunate man. The Lochlann sisters are exceptional.”

  “They are,” Duncan agreed. “In beauty and in mind.”

  Broderick nodded. “I've noticed.”

  They both grinned.

  “I wish you luck, little brother,” Broderick said, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

  “So do I,” his brother agreed, then he sniffed. “But more than luck, I need a wash. I smell after the long ride.”

  Broderick laughed, amused. “I didn't notice, brother.”

  Duncan gave him a hooded smile. “That, brother, is because you're barbarous.”

  Broderick roared. “So, I am barbarous. I cannot deny it.”

  Duncan cuffed him on the shoulder. “The both of us.”

  Broderick shoved him and together they stumbled down the stairs to the quarters set aside for visitors. When Duncan reached his room, they separated there – Duncan for a bath, Broderick to change his tunic.

  “It's good to have Duncan here,” Broderick sighed. At least with his brother's presence at Lochlann, he would have a few days to plan the campaign, finalizing details, before his brother slipped back to the fortress to take action.

  Broderick guessed they would be ready by the end of the week. Then they would march on their enemy and end matters.

  As he headed up to his bedchamber, Broderick found himself hoping Amabel was in. He could not but recall that she would depart the castle the next day for her pilgrimage. At least, if they leave now, they will be back before I go on campaign.

  The abbey she wished to visit was no more than a day's comfortable riding away, which meant they would be back in plenty of time for his departure.

  And the sooner I leave, the sooner I return.

  And the sooner he returned, then the sooner he and Amabel could start their life.

  He shrugged off his tunic and changed it for a fresh one of unbleached wool, running a comb through his short, dark hair to settle it. He thought about Amabel at Dunkeld. There was so much to show her! They could ride in the woods, take meals in the solar, share his bed.

  He sighed. Life was all set to be happy. All he needed to do was tie up the last loose ends.

  Still smiling, he headed downstairs to dinner.

  In the solar, the family gathered. Amabel was there, her cousin and their ward, Lord Brien and Lady Alina. Broderick took his place beside his wife, squeezing her hand.

  “Where is Duncan?”

  “Not here yet,” Amabel explained.

  Broderick grinned, thinking his brother was taking an awfully long time to prepare.

  He must really like Lady Alina.

  Sure enough, he appeared a moment later, dressed in a tan-colored tunic and hose that suited him admirably, a long cloak falling from his wide shoulders. He bowed to lord Brien and took a place opposite Alina.

  “I trust this place is empty?” His voice sounded tight.

  “Yes,” she said, barely a whisper.

  Amabel and Broderick grinned at each other.

  As they watched their brother and sister conversing happily, they exchanged happy smiles.

  I am glad that my brother has also found happiness.

  He was so contented in his own life that he wished for everyone to find love.

  Alina is a fine woman, he thought, watching her and noticing how the fire shimmered on her black locks. But I am so happy with my beloved. So very happy.

  He leaned back, feeling deeply content as the conversation rose and fell around them, wishing with all his heart that he would never have to leave for this campaign.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  SETTING OFF

  SETTING OFF

  Amabel and Broderick stood on the stairs.

  Amabel bit her lip.

  “You must go, must you not?”

  Broderick nodded. “I must. You know that.”

  Amabel shook her head. She knew that she and Alina had a plan to solve this problem but she wished they would wait! It would take two days in either direction to reach the Bradley lands. And when they arrived there, it would only be courtesy to remain the night. By the time she returned with proof, Broderick and his brother would have gone.

  “Can you not delay?” She turned wide blue eyes on him, hoping to persuade him with her sorrow. “I would be so sorry to miss your departure.”

  Broderick smiled and stroked her cheek. “Don't fret, dear. You will only be gone three days! I am sure I will not leave before you return.”

  Amabel felt a sudden irritation. If only she did not have to lie to him.

  “Do not expect me to return so soon,” she said stonily.

  Broderick blinked.

  “Why, dearest? Do you not wish to see me off?” He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners.

  Amabel tried to resist the urge to shout at him. She could not afford for him to be slightly suspicious that they headed elsewhere. As it was he was being ridiculously protective – she had a hard time convincing him not to deploy a handful of household soldiers to accompany them.

  “I may be longer,” she said carefully.

  “Why?” Broderick's brow shot up. “You wish time in seclusion?”

  Amabel bit her lip. Patience, patience. She wished Alina were here. She would be able to think of some neutral way out. She closed her eyes, racking her brain.

  “It is a possibility,” she ventured. “Alina and I wish to purify ourselves, to bathe in the holy springs there.”

  Broderick shook his head.

  “What?” Amabel asked, feeling her temper fray.

  “You might choose to go another time,” he said crossly. “I am about to ride off into peril. And you say you will not see me off?”

  Amabel looked away. What else could she say? She was starting to get desperate. She decided the best way was to lose her temper.

  “Broderick,” she said quietly. “I need to travel to the abbey. I will spend as long there as I think is needed.”

  “Very well,” he said with a sigh. “If that is what you wish.” His voice was tight and distant. Amabel felt something in her want to cry, hearing it, even if the rest of her rejoiced.

  Amabel closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said in a small voice. “That is what I wish, Broderick.”

  “Well, then,” Broderick said. “I should say farewell.”

  Amabel bit her lip, feeling as if she was about to weep.

  “Yes,” she managed to say.

  “Safe travels,” he said formally. He bowed over her hand. “Both for you and your sister. May your prayers be heard.”

  Amabel squeezed her eyes shut. She could not afford to cry now. She wanted him to think she was angry, defiant. Then he would not hold her back.

  “Thank you,” she said equally formally. “I pray so.”

  Broderick clasped her hand and looked into her eyes. Then, sighing, he let his arms fall to his sides. He turned away.

  “Farewell, wife,” he said, his back turned. He sounded hurt.

  Amabel stiffened. She had to resist the urge to run after him, to kiss him. To tell him she was lying, that she was planning a long trip. That she would never leave him if there was any other way.

  But she could not say anything to him. To do so would be to risk their careful plan.

  I have to go now. If I do not leave today, there is no chance we can inform them before the forces engage.

  And after th
at, there would be no going back. If the MacDowell won, Dunkeld would be lost, and Lochlann damaged. And her uncle, believing their enemies to be the Bradleys and the MacAdams, would spend his strength in needless warfare. Only to make all their lands a target for MacDowell hands.

  “Goodbye,” she said in a small voice.

  Head held high, she walked across the hallway to the door. Alina was upstairs, saying her farewells. As she waited, she heard her sister's light footfall coming down.

  “Sister.” She squeezed Alina's hand and together they walked out of the castle door and to the gate, where the Lochlann carriage awaited them.

  “Here you are, Lady Amabel,” the driver said, handing her up into the dark interior of the boxy carriage. Alina followed. Their chest of luggage strapped to the roof, Fergall riding behind as an escort, the carriage rolled off slowly down the road.

  Amabel leaned back on the seat, closing her eyes. She did not want to weep. But she could feel a tear slide down her cheek. Another followed it. She turned away.

  “Sister?” Amabel felt her wrist gripped in slim fingers.

  “Alina.” She grasped her sister's hand and together they sat in silence, listening to the hiss of wheels and the clop of hooves and the high voice of the wind hissing over the window-grating.

  It was dark in the carriage, the window covered by a lattice that allowed in patchy light but kept out rain. Amabel felt herself slowly lulled to sleep.

  “You are worried, are you not?” Alina said quietly.

  “Yes,” Amabel whispered back.

  “We will return safely,” her sister said solemnly. “I know it.”

  Amabel nodded slowly. Alina saw true. Ever since they were children, she had been given to flashes of insight and if Alina believed they would be safe... she knew it was true.

  “Thank you,” Amabel said in a small voice. “But that is not the trouble.”

  “Oh?” Alina sounded somewhat surprised.

  “No. The problem is my husband. He thinks I don't care.”

  Amabel felt the tears start and felt no shame as they streamed down her face. She covered her face with her hands and let herself cry.

  When she looked up, sniffing, Alina wordlessly passed her a kerchief.

  “Silly fool,” Alina said lightly. “Not you. Him.”

  Amabel smiled. “You think so?”

  Alina laughed. “My dear? You are about to risk your life to spare his home. You are interested only in finding the truth. He is interested only in charging off like a small boy on his first hunt.”

  Amabel laughed at the image. It was quite fitting.

  “I asked Duncan to keep an eye out,” Alina continued. “He said he would. Broderick's always impulsive.”

  Amabel smiled. She was pleased to hear her sister and her brother-in-law were close. “He did?”

  “Indeed. He said he'd keep that lummox of a brother out of danger, if he had to ride behind him with a flag to do it.”

  They both laughed and Amabel felt the relief of sharing her worry as together the two rolled on toward the stronghold of their longtime enemy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  BAD NEWS

  BAD NEWS

  Broderick and Duncan rode out together. The morning was cold, the first sign of winter. They breathed out plumes of frost and sat stiffly, jolted a little by the horse's wide steps.

  “Duncan?”

  “Aye?”

  Broderick sighed. “Something feels wrong.”

  Duncan raised a brow, his good-looking face showing his amusement. “We're riding through potentially-hostile territory, leaving the bulk of our main force behind. We're still not sure who we face, and could face ambush. We are heading home with a half-formed plan of defense, which relies on the fact that father has repelled any attacks in our absence. Yes, you might be able to say it feels wrong.”

  Broderick let out a chuckle. “I know,” he sighed. “We're taking risks.”

  Duncan grinned. “Just a bit.”

  They rode on in silence. Then Broderick cleared his throat. “It's not that, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “That's not what feels wrong. Not what I thought.”

  “What's worrying you, brother?”

  They slowed so that they could hear each other talk over the hooves and the marching feet.

  “It's Amabel,” he said hesitantly.

  Duncan frowned. “How's that?”

  “Well,” Broderick began. “I felt like she was hiding something from me. It's not like her. She was so... distant.”

  Duncan sighed. “Now you mention it,” he began carefully, “Alina's odd, too.”

  Broderick stared. “How d'you mean?”

  “Well,” Duncan cleared his throat. “She was also different. She seemed worried. She was frowning a lot and seemed jumpy. She's not usually jumpy.”

  Broderick nodded. “She's always so calm.”

  “Exactly.”

  The two brothers looked at each other.

  “Do you think...”

  “Are they actually pilgrims?”

  “What? Sorry, Duncan.” He cleared his throat. “But what do you mean?”

  “Well…” Duncan raised a brow. “I think Alina was hiding something. Amabel, too. Maybe that's what. Maybe they're not headed to the abbey after all. But somewhere else.”

  Broderick furrowed his brow. “But where else would they go?”

  “I don't know.”

  The two men rode in silence for a while.

  After a moment, Broderick had an idea.

  “Is Blaine at the rear?”

  Duncan turned around. The column of eighty fighting men stretched far back, sixteen rows of five men each. At the back, he could just discern Blaine, riding a bad-tempered chestnut cob. He waved to him.

  “He's coming up now,” Duncan replied evenly. “Why?”

  “I want to know if Chrissie told him anything. Surely, if the women were going somewhere, they might have told her, too?”

  Duncan shrugged. “Worth a try.”

  The two waited until they heard the hooves clop up beside them.

  Broderick turned.

  “Blaine?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “How are you with secrets?”

  “Depends, sir.” He grinned. “Strategy? I'm completely mum.”

  “Other secrets?”

  “I've got a mouth like a leaky pot, sir.”

  Broderick roared. “Good. So. If Chrissie confided something in you, would you tell?”

  Blaine went pale. “Not necessarily.”

  “If it could mean life or death?”

  “Depends,” he said. “If it's her life, then I'd save it. No question, sir.”

  Broderick smiled grimly. “And for my wife? Or Alina?”

  “Of course.” His brown eyes were worried. “What, sir?”

  “Do you know if they were going... where they said?”

  Blaine frowned. “Chrissie thought so,” he said hesitantly. “But she also said they took some good gowns along. To be presentable.”

  The three men looked at each other. The abbey was a simple, austere place. To take any finery along would be to insult the holy sisters and brothers staying there.

  There was simply no chance the ladies were heading to the abbey.

  Broderick looked around, feeling the first traces of fear down his back.

  “What, sir?” Blaine bit his lip. “What's the matter?”

  Broderick and Duncan looked back.

  “We need to find them,” Broderick said decidedly.

  “Yes,” Duncan said.

  “Amabel?” Broderick sighed. “Beloved, where are you?”

  He had no idea. He only hoped that she was where he thought and not somewhere else entirely.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  TERROR ON THE ROAD

  TERROR ON THE ROAD

  The coach rattled on through the scrubby landscape, heading northwest. Amabel was tired. Her head ached. The sky beyond
the window-pane was black, showing through holes in the lattice-work against the more-complete black within the coach.

  Amabel came slowly awake. She sat up. Why were they slowing?

  She glanced at Alina, who lay back quietly. She was asleep.

  “Alina?”

  “Yes?”

  It did not take long for her sister to be sharply awake.

  “What is the matter?”

  “I don't know. I think we're slowing. Why would we?”

  Alina looked at her. In the darkness, Amabel saw only eyes.

  “I don't know.”

  Amabel shook her head. “I don't like it.”

  Their plan was to keep on until they reached a farmhouse that Fergall knew. It had been difficult to make him agree to their plan, but they had decided to include him at least partly. He believed them to be visiting a relative to try and negotiate a peace.

  Amabel listened to the sounds around them. She could hear the hiss of wheels, the clop of hooves. Then she heard the sound that must have disturbed her. She heard a shout.

  She tensed.

  “What was that?”

  Alina said nothing, only took her hand.

  Amabel shifted around. She could see nothing. All she could see was the vague outline of the grille over the window, pale light beyond.

  She made a decision. Standing in the coach, she tapped the roof. “Douglas?”

  She shouted the name of the driver until he heeded her.

  “Wha's troublin', milady?”

  Amabel sighed. She moved the grille so they could hear better.

  “I heard a shout. We should wait here.”

  “I heard it, too, milady. Perhaps someone's huntin' late?”

  “It's terribly late,” Amabel shouted back. “We should wait.”

  “We can stop off at the farm, milady,” Douglas shouted back evenly. “Not far now. Rest yerself easy.”

  Amabel sighed. She was tired of the assumption that any concerns of hers were minor. If she heard a noise and she was worried, she should be believed. She was the granddaughter of the Earl of Cawley! Niece of the present earl. Her word should not be dismissed so easily.