The Highlander’s Awakening: Lairds of Dunkeld Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Ferguson, Emilia

  Ettie chuckled too. “I mean, would Lord Broderick allow it?”

  “He already said he'd be happy to host you as long as you'd like it.” Heath paused.

  Ettie stared at him. “Truly? Oh...”

  So many thoughts came into her mind at that moment. Thoughts of staying here, walking with Brodgar in the halls, on the wall of the castle, in the courtyard far below. She imagined springtime and going for rides together. Picking flowers.

  “I'm not surprised they want you to stay,” Heath grinned. “You're a dear lass.”

  “Oh...”

  Ettie found herself blinking back tears, something that had happened more often recently than she'd have liked. “I can't say goodbyes,” she whispered. “So don't expect me to.”

  He smiled. “I find it hard too,” he said. “Too many people I've said it to over the years, too few returned.” He ran a weary hand down his face, and suddenly seemed much older than the seven and thirty years she knew him to be.

  Ettie didn't say anything, just waited while he gathered himself.

  “Well, then,” Heath said with a sigh. “I'll be moving on shortly. And you'll remain behind. We neither of us are any good at goodbyes.” He chuckled.

  “No,” Ettie said. “I won't say it. I'll just wish you fare well.”

  “As I to you.” Heath nodded. He stood, then, drawing his cloak closer. He walked up to her. Stroked her hair. “It's been a pleasure having you, niece.”

  “I've enjoyed our talks, Uncle.”

  They looked into each other's eyes and he sighed after a long moment. “Well, I should get myself gone. Got a long day tomorrow. Promised to help Duncan with the men.”

  “Oh?” Ettie asked, curious.

  “He trains the garrison here – he and Blaine,” her uncle explained as he walked out. “It's them taking advantage of a knight to train this lot.” He jerked a rueful head toward the armory and the practice ground, smiling at her.

  “Well, they're benefiting,” she acknowledged. Heath beamed.

  “That's a very nice thing to say, lass,” he acknowledged gravely. “Now, goodnight. Sleep well.”

  “You too, Uncle. Goodnight.”

  He went out and shut the door behind him, leaving Ettie alone. Her thoughts swam.

  I am to stay here, alone, with Brodgar and his family. Uncle didn't say for how long. And they accept me.

  She felt her heart soar with excitement. Of all the things that she had expected to occur when she and Uncle set out from his fortress a few days before, this was not one of them. She would not have expected to find herself in such a luxurious – if small – holding, surrounded by friendly people and such warmth. And she would especially not have expected to meet someone like Brodgar MacConnoway.

  I wouldn't have thought someone like him existed.

  The thought made her smile. The prospect of staying here while Uncle trained the new recruits in the north was a pleasant one indeed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  REMINDERS

  REMINDERS

  The warm scents of breakfast drifted out of the solar. Brodgar felt his stomach clench with hunger. Whist, it's cold out here.

  He breathed on his hands, stamping his booted feet as he walked the last few paces to the doorway. Inside, his family was all seated around the table. He looked for Ettie and found her, seated beside Aunt Chrissie. He blushed.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  Ettie blushed. She looked up at him. “Good morning.”

  He tore his stare away. When he looked back, she was looking down again and he decided he'd already made it too obvious to his whole family how he felt. He ought to focus elsewhere. “I'm starving,” he said, addressing Alf, who was sitting with his back to him, beside the only open seat.

  “Good, good,” Alf said cheerfully. “There's plenty of things to eat.”

  “Hurray!” Brodgar grinned and slid into his seat. He looked up at his mother, who sat opposite, and then beside her. “Oh! Sister! You're well! Thank Heavens you're up and about.”

  Beside his mother, his red-haired sister Amice dimpled prettily, and then grinned at him. “You surprise me, brother,” she said. “I would have thought you'd want me out of mischief.”

  “Not by being sick in bed, no!” Brodgar retorted playfully, and then more seriously, “it's good to see you better.”

  “It was a horrible cold,” Amice agreed, nodding her head firmly. “I'm glad it's finished with.”

  “You often catch cold?” Ettie asked. Everyone looked at her. Amice giggled and Ettie went red.

  “Oh, no, not often,” Amice said candidly. “It's the first one I've had all year!”

  Alf chuckled. “Good for you, Amice. I've already had one.”

  “That's because you insisted on climbing Scallis Peak in the middle of the snow, cousin.”

  They all laughed. Ettie cleared her throat. “Excuse me if that was a rude question.”

  “No!” Brodgar exclaimed, surprising himself with his insistence. “No, Lady Henriette. It was by no means an impertinent question.” He said the last softly, his eyes on hers. She looked at her hands.

  “Yes,” Lady Amabel said carefully. “It wasn't taken rudely.” She looked at Brodgar with a look of inquiry that made him abruptly look at his plate.

  She knows what I think of our new visitor.

  “Ettie has always nursed everyone in my fort,” Heath spoke up.

  Brodgar felt surprised. The man very rarely spoke, his voice raspy as if not accustomed to speaking. “Really?” he asked. He looked at Ettie. With her slim build and fine hands, he found it hard to imagine her being a nurse. The thought of her attending to his wounds was pleasing, though, and made him flush.

  “Yes. She's a ministering angel, so she is,” Heath nodded.

  Chrissie looked at him tenderly and Brodgar looked away, not wanting to intrude on the moment. He found himself studying Ettie instead. With her long golden hair up on top of her head and her face in profile, she was lovely indeed. She had high cheekbones, her cheeks slightly rounded, and that full, pink pout that made his head spin.

  “Well, it's good to have someone who likes tending the sick in the castle,” Amabel said firmly. “We have our healer, but she needs rest sometimes, too.” She indicated Aunt Alina, who sat at the end of the table, beside her husband. She had a hand on Amice's, and seemed still to be watching her.

  “Auntie was so good to me,” Amice agreed, smiling at the tranquil older woman. “She kept my fever away and kept my mind busy, too, with her stories.”

  “Alina told you stories?” Amabel was interested. “Well, you are lucky. No one tells as fine a story as Alina.”

  Across the table from her, her sister made a face. “You exaggerate, dear sister. And put me on the spot with our visitors. Now I'll be persuaded to tell a tale this evening, and bore us all to death.”

  Everyone laughed. Heath cleared his throat.

  “I'm afraid, Lady Alina, that I shall miss your tale.”

  “Nothing to be afraid of, that is,” Alina said with a rueful grin. They all laughed again. “But if you're going to leave, travel this morning. There's snow coming later. I can feel it.”

  “Thank you,” Heath said gravely. “With that information, I shall depart after breakfast.”

  “You must feel free to borrow something warm for the journey, Henriette,” Amabel said kindly to Ettie. She looked down, seeming nervous, and Brodgar wondered why.

  “My niece is staying, my lady,” Heath said. “I thought Lord Broderick passed on the idea?”

  “It seems Lord Broderick forgot,” Amabel said, giving her husband a mischievous twinkle. Brodgar saw his father cough, running a long finger down the bridge of his nose in a gesture he knew meant he was uncomfortable.

  “I am sorry, sweetheart. I did forget. Heath will be away for a month, in the North, training soldiers. I wanted him to stay on and train ours, but it seems he's in much demand. So we will have to be content with him returning next month t
o collect Henriette, who could stay in our care awhile?” He made the last part a question, though it was clear he didn't think Amabel would disagree there.

  “I can see no reason not to,” Amabel put in. Brodgar let out a breath he hadn't known he held.

  Henriette. Staying here. Alone?

  He looked at her uncle, who shrugged, seeming satisfied. “Well thank you, my lady,” he said, smiling at Amabel. “I'm afraid your home has so many visitors compared to mine up north. And I am no fit company for a young lady just nineteen.” He smiled.

  “No! I like your company,” Ettie spoke up, then blushed again as everyone looked at her. Heath smiled and squeezed her arm where it rested on the table.

  “Thank you, niece. I like your company. But alas,” he sighed, “the world makes other demands. And I must go away. You'll be comfortable here.”

  “I will. Thank you,” Ettie said, looking at Amabel and Broderick with those cornflower eyes. She glanced at Brodgar, who felt a flush creep through him and the sudden heat threatened to overwhelm him. He looked at his place, fingers twisting round each other where his hands lay below his breakfast dish.

  “Well, then,” Lord Broderick said. He was looking at his son with a strange look, and Brodgar straightened up, staring out of the window over his aunt's shoulder.

  “You'll go riding?” Aunt Chrissie asked him as the rest of the breakfasters turned their attention to smaller conversations.

  “I hope so,” Brodgar agreed. “If Alf can be persuaded to ride with me later?”

  “It's going to snow,” Alf said succinctly, and received a grin from Aunt Alina in response.

  “Will it snow before luncheon?” Brodgar asked his aunt.

  She looked out of the arched windows, those heavy-lidded black eyes wide and thoughtful. “No.”

  “Oh. Good,” Brodgar said, turning to Alf. “So. A ride after this?”

  “I'd like to ride,” Henriette put in, then dived into embarrassed silence when Brodgar and Alf looked her way. “I mean,” she continued after a moment, “as I'll ride out a bit with Uncle Heath, I'll be out anyway...”

  “Of course you'll ride with us,” Brodgar found himself saying, thought for the life of him he didn't know how he got the words out, he was so shy of her. “We'd be very happy.”

  “Yes,” Alf agreed succinctly, looking from Brodgar to her and back as if wondering what on earth had just happened.

  “Well, then,” Brodgar said. “That's settled.”

  “You have to have breakfast first,” Amabel said. Brodgar nodded.

  “Yes.”

  As he ate a bannock, his mouth full of crumbly warmth, he wondered something. Was it his imagination, or was his mother wary of Henriette. What is going on?

  The meal ended eventually, and Brodgar made sure to stay behind at the table while the servants cleared away and Heath and Henriette stood to go and pack.

  His mother stayed on with Aunt Alina and Amice, and, when the two had gone, she went to the settle to fetch a tapestry she worked.

  “Mother?” Brodgar asked, standing before her.

  “Yes, my son?”

  “I wanted to ask you...um....is something amiss, Mother?”

  “No?” Lady Amabel's green eyes questioned him. “Why do you ask?”

  “Only...” he trailed off, knowing he was clasping his hands and looking nervous, but not able to change it. “Only, I seem to notice you're a bit...wary about Henriette staying on?”

  “No,” Amabel said softly, taking a seat on the settle and indicating he should sit opposite as she unfolded the work. “No, son, I'm not nervous. Only, remember your promise?”

  “My promise?” Brodgar asked, feeling sweat down his neck.

  “You're promised, son. To Ambeal MacDonnell. The daughter of our longtime enemy house. The current thane wants to heal the breach. And you're the key. I know it's not fair. But it is so.”

  Brodgar exhaled loudly. He had forgotten. The arrangement had been made when he was little more than toddling age, and the daughter of the MacDonnell younger still. Since that time, no one had thought to remind him of it...perhaps because he'd never given them cause to need to. Until now.

  “I'm sorry, Mama,” he said softly. “I know. I shouldn't. But...”

  “But the lady interests you. I know. I saw,” his mother added with a laugh.

  Brodgar shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes, she does.” He couldn't meet her gaze for a while, and studied his hands, flexing muscled fingers.

  “She is beautiful, I admit it,” his mother said softly. “Beautiful and, it seems, a sweet enough person. But son, you're spoken for.”

  “I know.” Brodgar felt wretched. He should have known. He had forgotten, and wished he hadn't. If he had remembered sooner, perhaps he would have behaved differently. Then again, what could he have done? It wasn't like he meant to feel like this in the beginning!

  “I'm sorry,” his mother said in a small voice. Her blue eyes were gentle and he knew she meant it. “I would change it. But we cannot.”

  “I know, Mother.” Brodgar looked at his hands again. He felt wretched. He'd been so stupid. Now, not only was he falling for Ettie Fraser, but what if she...what if she liked him too? What then?

  A sneeze sounded in the doorway and he looked up at the sweet face of Amice. “Sister!” he said.

  “There you are,” Amice smiled, wiping her nose discreetly on a lace-trimmed kerchief. “Sorry, Mama? Did you need my brother? Only Alf and I want to ride...”

  “Whist!” Brodgar smacked his forehead ruefully. “I clean forgot. Sorry. Sorry, Amice. Mama,” he inclined his head to her and she nodded.

  “Off you go, son. And remember.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Brodgar went out feeling as if a black cloud descended. Amice skipped ahead, clearly feeling better. Then she turned around, a little frown on her forehead.

  “What's wrong, brother?” she asked, concerned. “You're feeling poorly?”

  “No, sister,” Brodgar said with a sigh, through gritted teeth. “No, I'm well. Just preoccupied.”

  “Oh.” Amice shrugged, as if his preoccupation was nothing to do with her, and then turned away, skipping down the hall again.

  “It's actually rather warm out,” she explained as they headed through the great doors and out into the courtyard, crossing it briskly. The wind tugged at Brodgar's cloak edge, but it seemed Amice was right – the weather was a little warmer than previous.

  Warm enough to snow.

  He shivered, stamping his feet, and reached the stable, then took the reins of Arnold, his horse, from the groom.

  “We got ready before you came, cousin,” Alf called, already mounted on Fire, his chestnut stallion. “Thought we'd better get going so we can get out before it snows.”

  “Yes,” Brodgar nodded, looking through the door. “It's coming.”

  “Yes,” Amice said, mounting swiftly into the saddle of her black horse, Swansong. She jerked the reins and they headed into the courtyard, going to the gate.

  “Is Ettie joining us?” Brodgar called, just as the other two halted and were joined by a third. “Oh...”

  Sitting atop their mother's white horse, Snow-soft, was Henriette. She was dressed in a white riding habit with pale fur trim and her sweet nose stuck out from under the wide hood. Her slate-pale eyes were wide.

  “Hello,” she said shyly. Brodgar swallowed hard.

  “Hello, Ettie,” he said carefully. He looked at Alf, but if it was glaringly obvious that he was falling for Henriette, Alf hadn't seen.

  “Come on,” Alf said, turning toward the path, his tall body slightly bent over his reins. “Now Brodgar's come down, let's go.”

  “Yes!” Amice said cheerily.

  Brodgar waited for Henriette to pass him, then drew up his reins and continued.

  “It's a pleasant morning,” Ettie said softly.

  “It is.” Brodgar managed to get the words out despite the nervousness constricting his throat.
>
  “You are well, Brodgar?” she asked. Her big blue eyes were troubled.

  “Yes. Yes, I'm well,” Brodgar murmured. Hell, but she was beautiful! Her hood had fallen back and her golden hair curled around her face. Her lips were soft and slightly parted and her blue eyes, wide and thick-lashed, shone.

  “Oh. I was just worried. You looked sad.”

  “No,” Brodgar denied it softly. “No, I wasn't sad. Not at all.”

  “Oh.”

  Henriette was riding beside him now. The others were together up ahead. Alf was pointing at tracks and Amice clapped her hands excitedly, then they walked on, following them.

  “Fox, I think,” Brodgar commented lightly to Ettie.

  “Oh.”

  That was the sum total of conversation for a while. Brodgar bit his lip and made himself concentrate on the sway and rise of his horse's walking motion across the path. He was determined not to look at her. Not to watch the gentle rise and fall of her body with her horse's walk, the way her hair shook with the slight breeze and the jolting, imagining her with that cloak off and that hair loose in the drifting air...

  “Brodgar!”

  Alf's voice nearly startled him out of his wits. He snapped his head up, staring at him. “What, cousin? What?”

  “Hell,” Alf chuckled, ruefully. “Sorry, cousin. I didn't mean to scare you. I just came back to say Amice and I are going up to the cliff. Care to come?”

  Brodgar, still spluttering from the fright he'd been given, gave Alf a baleful look. Alf sighed.

  “Sorry, cousin,” he said again. “I didn't mean to disturb you. Really foolish of me.”

  “No,” Brodgar dismissed it, flapping his hand. “Not your fault, cousin. I'd rather be surprised than ride off the cliff because of thinking too hard.”

  Alf chuckled. “True.”

  Beside them, Ettie chuckled too. Her laugh was the dulcet of small bells. Brodgar grimaced, biting his lip to distract him from his thoughts.

  “Lady Henriette? You'll accompany us?” Alf asked formally. Brodgar felt his eyebrow shoot upwards. Alf was never formal. With no one. He frowned at him and Alf laughed easily. “I am sorry, cousin,” he said again. Brodgar nodded.