Loving A Highland Enemy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)

by Freya, Bridget

  The door swung open. Apple in hand, Joanna flipped around with a look of fear on her face at being discovered. Douglas turned slowly and saw her at the door.

  The same dark hair and blue eyes.

  Grace.

  A Farewell of Enemies

  “Wh-what are the two of ye doing out here?” she asked, wide-eyed. Joanna looked as terrified as she did, and Douglas looked pale and clammy, really too weak to display much emotion in the midst of this unexpected reunion.

  Grace had not anticipated seeing him again without first preparing herself for the moment. If she had known he was in here, she would not have come for the temptation of a midnight snack when she was unable to sleep.

  “I could ask ye the same question,” Joanna replied, suddenly straightening herself and clearly no longer nervous or afraid, knowing that it was only Grace. “From what I hear, ye’ve been awfully busy this evening with yer patient. And now ye’re out here in the store house?”

  “I couldnae sleep. I was hungry. Didnae expect to find ye out here with a sickly Hanoverian,” Grace replied, trying to hold her own.

  While they were determined to be friends, Grace recognized that the friction she had with Joanna now and then was certainly a matter of personality and not merely of circumstance. She wished to remain friends, but she would have to accept that the friendship came with the ties of occasional dissonance.

  “Mm-hmm,” Joanna said in a scolding tone. Grace couldn’t tell if there was any compassion underlying it or if the healer only felt disdain for the situation at hand and the man who was so clearly in need of help despite the fact that they were at odds.

  “I’m getting yer sickly friend here ready for his departure,” she added.

  Grace opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself. She couldn’t allow anyone to see that she didn’t want him to leave. “So ye’re sending an ill man off into the night?” she asked casually, as if it didn’t feel painful to consider his departure.

  “Actually, he wants to go. I caught him trying to leave,” Joanna replied. “Doesnae make any sense for me to try and stop him. As I see it, I’m helping ye both find safety by assisting him in leaving.”

  It stung Grace to hear this. Douglas had been so incapable of being around the Scots that he couldn’t even allow one to try to nurse him back to health before running away. Even when she had thought that perhaps he had noticed her, he was desperate to be rid of her and her kind.

  Were all Englishmen like this? Or was this one particularly cruel to be so rude and kind to her in one night? Perhaps this was the real reason Scottish women were warned against Hanoverian men. Perhaps they were trickier than she had ever imagined.

  “Well then…he had best be off,” she said callously.

  Douglas seemed to be catching only parts of the conversation and Grace wondered if he was slipping into some kind of delirium.

  “Oh good heavens, Joanna, is there anything ye can give the man? He’s so clearly in a bad spot, but stubborn as hell. Can ye make sure he doesnae die before he at least reaches the forest?” she asked. Angry though she was, it would be just as cruel to send him off into the night so deeply wounded as to turn him in to her uncle without another thought.

  Without a bit of extra care, Douglas would barely make it out of Dunmore before the cold and his fever clashed into one grand scene of death.

  Joanna chuckled. “Dinnae worry. After I’ve gathered all this, I’ll run off to me home quickly and grab me basket of herbs. I ken exactly what he needs for it.”

  “Ye arnae planning to poison him, are ye?” Grace asked as if she were in the mood for teasing. However, having seen her new friend’s temper of late, she felt a genuine concern that Joanna might use this as an opportunity to rid the world of another Hanoverian.

  “Not today. I dinnae think I’d ever go for poison. Not with the English buggers anyway. A gun is a much better weapon for their lot. Whoever left this shot in his arm had the right idea and the wrong aim,” Joanna replied.

  Grace pretended to laugh along with her friend, but her concern was too great to indulge in the joke truly. No matter how they hated the Hanoverians, seeing Douglas in this state was hard to bear.

  She wondered at herself for a moment. How had she come to care so much? He had done one kind thing for her, making her feel safe in the midst of that other man and setting her on the right path back home. However, in their only interaction since then, he had made sure to insult her.

  Now he was leaving, as he should. So why did it cause her such grief to know she would have to say farewell to him?

  “Alright then, here’s all he needs,” Joanna said, handing Grace a bundle of items. Grace wondered if there was any possible way for the wounded soldier to carry it all with him.

  He was clearly quite strong, and she could see that from the way his muscles were formed beneath his shirt that he could likely carry a significant amount on a normal day. However, this wasn’t a normal day. With his wounds, this burden was quite significant.

  “I’ve to run off and get me medicines for him. Stay here and dinnae let him leave until I’ve taken care of that arm. I mean, unless ye want to. If he leaves he dies and it saves me some work and saves us all another of his lot. But anyway, I’ll be back soon,” she joked.

  After Joanna closed the door behind her, Grace sat down next to Douglas on his makeshift bed of four stools lined up together. She could tell that he was beginning to settle a bit from the fever and he was not shifting about so much. The little food he had taken in must have done him some good after all.

  Grace was quiet as she watched him. His eyes were closed, but now and then they would open and look at her for a moment before closing again. Grace could see that he wanted to sleep before leaving the castle, but was unable to do so. Instead, he opened those green eyes again and gazed on her.

  “You are quite a brave woman,” he whispered, looking up at her blushing cheeks. The heat on her face was obvious.

  Grace was completely taken aback. She had never imagined those words or anything near them would come from his mouth.

  “Th-thank ye,” she replied. Internally she was irritated that he seemed to turn her into a stuttering fool continuously. She had seen that even headstrong Colla had turned into a simpering fool at times around Beiste, but had never imagined that her own confidence would wane in the face of romance.

  Douglas looked at her bashfully and Grace wondered just how strong the fever must be for him to behave so shyly and considerately toward her. Was it not settling after all?

  It was in his eyes and Grace felt the pounding of her heart beneath her ribs. It was not just the fever that had led him to utter those words. It was what he felt. He truly admired her strength and selflessness.

  “I am…thankful that you were willing to care for me despite…my words and my actions,” he said with apparent difficulty. Grace sensed that he was unaccustomed to speaking kind words to one of her kind. Yet, it also seemed to bring him some form of relief to be so gracious with her.

  “It was nothing,” Grace said. She knew she had used these words with him before and they both knew well that it was, indeed, quite a lot for her to have done so much on his behalf.

  “It was a great deal,” he said, looking away, unable to maintain eye contact with the woman who had rescued him.

  “Well then, perhaps it would simply be best for ye to remember that Scots have quite a sense of generosity, no matter how we’ve been treated,” Grace replied, trying to protect herself from his weakening resolve.

  “Yes, perhaps some of you are indeed kind,” he said softly.

  No further words passed between them but their eyes met and seemed unable to release. Grace couldn’t help but wonder exactly what was going on in Douglas’s mind, but in that moment, all she wanted was to continue gazing into those amazing green eyes that stared back at her.

  Suddenly their connection was broken by the sound of Joanna coming back through the door.

  “Here
it is. Just a little bit of herbs and I’ll clean everything again and ye’ll be on yer way. It’s nothing, really, ye’ll be totally fine. I’ve seen hundreds of shots, although typically they’re inflicted by yer people, not mine,” she accused, clueless that anything had just passed between her friend and the strange Englishman.

  “Thank you,” Douglas said quietly. He seemed to be trying to regain his distrust of the women enough to interact strongly and bravely with Joanna.

  Despite the short time she had known Joanna, Grace had seen enough of her to know that it would be difficult for Douglas to keep up with her in terms of wit and distaste for the enemy.

  Joanna and Douglas kept a bitter silence between them, with only the thread of thought that Joanna was doing a kindness in helping him recover so that he might do a kindness in leaving Dunmore.

  Once she completed her work, Joanna silently stood and nodded to Douglas that she was finished, and he was free to leave. She exited and left him alone with Grace once again.

  “I had best be off then,” Douglas said after a moment. Grace looked at him, knowing it was true. He had to leave.

  “Aye, I suppose it is best that ye go,” she said. For a moment, she could not look at him. Somehow, it seemed too difficult to say goodbye to this man who was her enemy. She longed once more for his kind words and that look in his eyes she was becoming accustomed to.

  “Do you think you’ll ever find yourself around Fort Amswold?’ he said with a laugh.

  “Doubtful,” she replied with a sad smile.

  “Well, I come up here often to scout. I can’t say when I’ll be nearby again, but…if you hear soldiers, look for me,” he said.

  “Of course I will,” Grace replied.

  “And if you ever need someone to save, I’m sure I’ll have plenty more injuries for you to heal,” he continued.

  The conversation was kept going only because neither wanted to say the inevitable goodbye. However, they both knew it had to come.

  “If ye ever need a good hideout, ye ken where the storehouse is,” she said.

  “Yes, and it’s quite cozy,” he replied.

  “Cozy and warm,” she said.

  “Cozy and warm,” Douglas repeated.

  Sadness lingered between them, but it remained unspoken further. Douglas stood, sturdier on his feet after simply having had the time to rest and eat. He looked at Grace once more and took her hand for a moment.

  Wordlessly, he gave it a squeeze by way of thanks. Then, all too soon, he was out the door and gone from her.

  When Facts Become Confusion

  She was nothing like he had always believed Scottish women to be. Saying goodbye to Grace had been agony. Knowing he might never see her again was painful. It had been only a short time with her, but it had been enough to keep her stuck in his mind.

  Douglas thought about his mother. The woman who had abandoned him, who had forgotten him when he was just a young child. If women from this land could so cruelly abandon their own children, what would stop them from leaving a man? There was no sense in it.

  There was no reason he should trust her, be distracted by her, consider her in any way. He had to be stronger than that.

  However, he wasn’t. It felt as though the fabric of everything he had ever thought to be true was being ripped apart. Had he lied to himself all these years because of his hurt over his mother? Or was Grace just exceptional? Was she unlike all other Scottish women after all?

  She had risked herself, everything she had, for his safety. Joanna had not exaggerated. Grace could have been sorely punished and he was glad that Joanna was loyal enough not to allow punishment to happen.

  He wondered how long it might take him to forget her. So far, he had journeyed for two full days on foot, but still she was on his mind without fail. When he closed his eyes to rest under the stars, covered by blankets to keep the cold at bay, she was present in his dreams.

  When he woke, each step was a reminder of her strength and her beauty and the fact that she was the reason he was still walking.

  His arm had been healing as well as could be expected under the circumstances. He was glad for the last bit of work from Joanna to give it a balm. However, it was doing well and he felt stronger, certainly without any remainder of the fever that had plagued him the first few days of his journey.

  He was certain it was only half a day before his feet would get him to the fort, where he could rest and try to distract himself with the myriad duties at hand for a soldier.

  Indeed, it was only a matter of hours before he saw the surrounding fields of the camp. The white tents were visible just beyond the grassy knolls and he was relieved to be nearly there, knowing he would manage to rest upon arrival.

  He would also have questions to answer. That prospect was less enticing for him. Still, he was glad when his feet landed behind his own tent, where he thought he might be able to sneak inside.

  “General!” came a call from nearby. He had been seen, no matter how hard he’d tried to be stealthy.

  “Ah yes, hello,” he said to Holloway when he came toward him.

  “Hello, General Warwick. We’ve not seen you in days. What is it that happened? Where were you?” he asked with great worry.

  “Oh it was nothing, Lieutenant. I was on a scouting mission,” he replied.

  “A scouting mission? On your own? I thought you were with the others, but they said you were lost to them after passing a stronghold. They said you disappeared. We’ve all been terribly worried for you. Is all well?” he inquired further.

  “Yes, Lieutenant, all is well. As I told you, I was on a scouting mission. I got separated, nothing more,” Douglas replied.

  “What happened there?” Holloway asked in concern, looking at Douglas’s upper arm.

  “Just a small wound. Nothing grave. It is healing nicely,” he said vaguely.

  Richard was quiet for a moment, eyeing his superior officer. Douglas knew that he was a respectful man who knew not to question authority. Yet the suspicion in his eyes told Douglas that he had best tread carefully before losing the trust of his men.

  “Shall I call for the doctor?” the lieutenant offered.

  “It’s not needed,” Douglas said, daring his inferior to continue asking questions and making helpful suggestions. There was a tense friction in the air, one of suspicion and worry.

  “Well then, I can leave you to rest,” Holloway said decidedly.

  “That’s for the best,” Douglas said warningly.

  He needed sleep. His arm still ached horribly and his mind was overcrowded. He had barely slept in the days it took him to reach Fort Amswold and that was not good for a man trying to heal from a gunshot. It would be unwise to try to persist in being awake just now.

  He laid himself on his bed, but it was not long before he realized how hungry he was. There were still a couple apples and a chunk of bread from the bundle Joanna had given him, but he wanted something more substantial after two days of eating only the scraps that didn’t require cooking.

  He wanted a full meal, but to do that, he would have to brave all the men who had been worried by his absence. It didn’t take long before his rest was disturbed by them.

  “General?” came a brave voice amidst a crew of whispers.

  Douglas opened his eyes, aware that there was an abundance of men outside waiting to confirm that he was living. “What is it?” he asked angrily.

  One of the men stepped through his tent flap.

  “Henry, what do you want? Can’t a man get some sleep around here?” he asked, showing as much irritation as he could muster.

  “Forgive me, General, but…we thought you had been lost. What happened? When we retreated from the stronghold outside of Edinburgh, you vanished. Are you alright? We were worried for you,” Henry said.

  “It has been a trying few days. I would rather be alone for now. Actually, I would rather be alone after one of you brings me some food. I’m starved,” he said rudely.

  Dougla
s felt guilty. He knew that his men were not accustomed to seeing this side of him. He had never treated them with this level of disrespect. However, he could hardly stand the thought of them all just outside his tent, waiting for him to come out and be his usual self.

  “Yes, as you wish. I will bring you some food,” Henry replied.

  The willingness and gentle sense of fear made him even less comfortable. He didn’t like the fact that he was ordering his men about for anything other than war.

  The sound of whispers faded and Douglas heard some of the questions within the voices. Already the rumor of his wound had spread. He heard them asking about it. Henry only replied that he’d seen nothing but the back of Douglas as he remained in his bed.

  After twenty minutes or so, Henry came in with a plate of potatoes and a bit of lamb.

  “Leave it on the chair,” he ordered, not turning to look. Once he heard the swish of the tent and knew that Henry was gone, Douglas shifted himself to grab the plate of food.

  The hearty meal did little to satisfy him. Douglas felt like he was going mad. He couldn’t handle the thought of everything that was burdening him. He was anxious for all that he had been through, repulsed by his current behavior.

  The thing that stood out to him, that made him the angriest, was the knowledge that he had been wrong for all these years.

  Since a young boy, his beliefs about Scottish women regarded their flippant nature, their tendency to betray others, the way in which they cared only for themselves. Grace had defied all of those beliefs. Grace had abandoned her own good to help him. Grace had been the complete antithesis of what he had believed she would be.

  So what was he to do? He couldn’t just sit here complaining and being angry, no matter how desperately he wanted to do just that. He couldn’t allow himself to grow as bitter as he was becoming.

  No, instead he had to make a choice to live better. He had to give this woman a chance; he had to believe there could be good in Scots.

  Even in that moment of determination, his abandonment reared its nasty head and reminded him that no Scottish woman could ever be trusted.