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

by Freya, Bridget

  * * *

  As he tossed about in his restless sleep, Douglas could not stop himself from dreaming. His fever was gone, but the dream had the realism of those he always experienced when he was agonizingly ill.

  “I am yers to bear,” she whispered in his ear.

  Douglas moaned at the sound of her voice.

  “I took yer burden; I risked it all for ye. Dinnae leave me now. Come back. Come back and be brave like I was brave,” she called to him.

  Her eyes pierced through him and he fell into them, a long black tunnel swallowing him whole. He watched his body descend into the nothingness of her pupil and he seemed to float, suspended in air.

  “I will catch ye,” she promised.

  “But what if I don’t fall?” he asked.

  “We all fall,” she replied.

  “I’m afraid,” Douglas confessed.

  “Of what?”

  “I’ve been left before…”

  “Or perhaps ye didnae ken the truth,” Grace said.

  “The truth?” he asked.

  “Who was she? Did they tell ye? Did they tell ye what happened or what they wanted to teach ye? Were ye born into hate or was it what they wished for ye?” she asked him.

  Her breath was suddenly warm on his neck.

  “How can I know?” he asked.

  “Come to me. Come to me and I will show ye that ye dinnae have to be left. That there is a surface beneath the fall, that ye arnae alone. Come to me and ye will ken exactly what it feels like to be caught,” she said.

  “You won’t let me die?” he asked.

  “We all die. Will that stop ye from falling?”

  Belonging To Another

  Grace’s body felt heavy. After the brief but meaningful farewell with Douglas, she was completely unable to rest.

  It was senseless to find such depth in their small interactions. They didn’t even know one another, not truly. They were enemies. Yet he was the only thing she could think of and Grace was sure there was some unbreakable bond between them that she had never experienced before.

  She turned on the bed and clenched her eyes tightly, willing her mind to settle so that she might manage some sleep. However, it refused and she found herself more awake than ever.

  “What is the matter with me?” she whispered into the darkness, willing an answer to come to her. Surely some part of her must be painfully broken to be so caught up in this.

  Grace inhaled deeply and counted to ten before releasing the breath. Then she repeated. Each time she held her breath, she tried to think of one thing about Douglas that she didn’t like.

  He is a Hanoverian.

  He hates Jacobites.

  He is rude in telling me how deeply he hates Jacobites.

  He is…he is…

  Nothing else would come to her. The unfortunate truth was that the only problems with him were related to the fact that he was a Hanoverian and she a Scotswoman. If it weren’t for that, she was certain there would be little risk between them.

  She couldn’t hold her breath any longer. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t notice his kindness, his looks, and his strength. She couldn’t continue to lie to herself.

  The moment when he said farewell to her was as if everything was breaking away. How could she have let him go? It seemed as if he didn’t want to either. Was it possible that he was every bit as moved by her as she was of him? Was it possible that he wanted her like she wanted him?

  Could she ever allow herself to believe that, even if it were true?

  A small part of her was certain that it was true indeed. It seemed too much to hope for, but she sensed it in the way he spoke to her, the way he changed with her, how he seemed hesitant even in his insults.

  “Forget it already!” Grace said into the darkness, scolding herself. She was relieved that Adeline was not with her this evening. Nothing seemed to settle her and it would be far too embarrassing for her friend to see it all.

  It seemed like hours of back and forth thoughts, but finally, Grace managed to find rest. The final thought she had before drifting off was whether or not she would ever see Douglas again.

  * * *

  In the morning, Grace awoke to the sound of the multitude outside her door heading down to breakfast. She was late.

  Quickly dressing, she hoped that she might make it before all her favorite foods were gone. There was no time to brush her hair, so she loosely braided it as she nearly tumbled down the stairs to the dining hall.

  The sounds of laughter and voices came at her exhausted ears as she pushed through the door and into the hall. The majority of the seats were taken but Grace saw a spot next to Callum Grennock, the man her friends continued to tease her about marrying.

  She started by taking her plate of food, hoping that by the time it was ready, another seat would have opened for her. Once she had it though, she turned and saw, with dismay, that there was still only one chair.

  Grace sighed. If it was the only seat, then so be it. Surely he wouldn’t think anything of it. There was nowhere else for her to go and it wasn’t as if she asked to sit in that spot.

  Callum smiled as he saw her approach.

  “Forgive me; this seems to be the only seat remaining. Is it alright for me to take it?” she asked shyly. She hadn’t seen Callum in months, but he was back at Dunmore and would surely be at the Saint Andrew’s Day Celeidh.

  “Aye, of course!” he replied enthusiastically.

  “Thank ye,” she said, taking her seat.

  “Ye ken ye’re always welcome beside me,” he said.

  Grace blanched at the comment and tried not to show her shock at his words.

  It was far too forthright for him to have said in that moment, and yet Grace tried to feel flattered by it. After a second, she realized that this was an opportunity for her to try to shift her perspective of Callum, to make him the center of her thoughts.

  They had always gotten along well. In fact, until now that she was distracted by Douglas, she had never had a moment of awkwardness with Callum. He had always just been a close friend, one with whom she was free to share her thoughts. They had many similarities and would be good together. Everyone agreed.

  “How is your father?” she asked him, knowing that he must have only recently returned from his home since she hadn’t seen him for so long.

  “He is very well,” Callum replied happily. “He is hoping to pay a visit soon, in fact. I’m thinking he will come for the Celeidh. Ye ken how he loves a good party.”

  Grace laughed. She did recall how much the Earl of Firbrook had always made a fool out of himself with drink at parties, but how he would simply laugh it off the following day. He was easygoing, much like his son.

  Life with Callum would be simply easy. It would be happy, even. He could provide for her as a husband should, and they would get along well.

  Yes, Callum was exactly who Grace needed to be with, of that she was sure.

  Yet she could not push away the tug of shame at the fact that she was already betraying Callum with her thoughts of Douglas. Was it right to force herself to pursue a future with one man when she was consistently thinking of another? She was certain it was wrong of her.

  So what was she to do?

  “And when did ye return? I havnae seen ye in quite some time,” she said, trying to continue the conversation. The more they spoke, the more opportunity she might have to fall for him.

  “Just in the afternoon yesterday. It wasnae too far a journey, but I’ve been terribly busy with me faither and that’s why I wasnae able to come sooner, even just for a visit. But I’ve been wanting to come. Ye ken that it seems everyone looks forward to the times when ye and I are chatting,” he said.

  His honesty was too much for Grace. It was true, and she knew it, but she still couldn’t bring herself to want to admit it. She still didn’t want to listen to the fact that everyone wanted them to be together.

  What was stopping her from seeing what everyone else saw?


  It was that connection with Douglas. It was the moments of electricity between them. It was the way he looked at her, as if he was consumed by something he should hate.

  That was why, try as she might, Grace struggled to enjoy the conversation with Callum. How had she found herself here? Intrigued by a man she couldn’t be with, but uninterested in a man who would give her the world. It was too great a paradox.

  “So what do ye think the Celeidh will bring? Any scandal?” Callum asked.

  For a moment, Grace was truly put off. It was annoying enough when the women in the castle constantly sought gossip and displayed their petulance. To hear it from a man like Callum only frustrated her.

  She put on her mask as the dutiful niece of the laird. Gentle, poised, graceful, that was what she had to show.

  Grace laughed lightly. “Oh goodness, I certainly hope not! It would be too awful to see those of our lovely clan making fools of themselves,” she replied. It was a trained mask that she held and, for a moment, she wondered if by falling for a Hanoverian she had accidentally come to recognize the mask for the first time.

  Would she ever be able to keep it on now?

  “I certainly hope that the good blacksmith doesnae repeat his performance from last year,” Callum said.

  Grace truly did laugh at that memory. A year before at the St. Andrew’s Day celebration, Gregor McFinch had found himself the topic of much discussion after he foolishly allowed himself to become so drunk that he watered the floor with his own urine.

  The hall had begun to stink so badly that the partygoers dissipated and left the place barren. He would likely never live it down, but here it was, only a year on, and he had already become the subject of many jokes.

  “I should like very much if ye would save a dance for me,” Callum said.

  Grace looked at him with care. He was handsome, with dark red hair and a full beard, grey eyes that seemed to bore into her. He was strong and had a good reputation. Callum was considered among the best and she would be lucky to be his.

  They had gotten along so well before. Was she only looking for faults because she had met another man?

  “I should like that very much,” she replied with a genuine smile. Grace had made her decision. She would give Callum a chance.

  No, it was more than that. She would truly try to fall in love with him. She would desperately attempt to become the kind of woman that he might desire. She would put on the mask and prove to the clan that she was a Jacobitess. She would prove that she could be trusted, that she was worthy of the clan.

  She would prove to herself that she was not weak enough to fall for an enemy no matter how kindly he had momentarily treated her and no matter how handsome she found him. She was stronger than that and it was time for her to show it. Callum was the perfect person to show it with.

  Cross-Fire in Mullview

  “General Warwick,” Roberts said, coming up to Douglas in the fort.

  Douglas was sitting for lunch with a group of men. He had learned in the previous couple of days that the longer he was alone, the more agonizing his thoughts had become, so distracted they were by Grace.

  “Yes, Roberts, what is it?” he asked, dreading the answer he expected.

  “A letter from your father, General,” came the reply.

  Douglas could feel his heart pounding a little faster, but he took the letter casually, ensuring that only his strong exterior could be seen by the men who had been ordered to follow him.

  As he began to open the letter, he wondered if it might be better to read it later, when he was on his own and no one could see any look of disappointment that might cross his face.

  “Potatoes. Every damn day, it’s potatoes,” Allen complained. Douglas was tired of hearing him complain. He was tired of hearing everyone complain. He was tired of his own complaints.

  In all, he realized, he was growing more and more irritable by the day. Despite being an excellent soldier, Douglas was wondering if he was truly cut out for this life. He wasn’t in battles, he wasn’t using strategy.

  He was simply sitting and waiting with this group of men, getting shot now and then when passing a Jacobean stronghold, and questioning his sanity every time he considered a Scotswoman with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes.

  “I want fish,” Allen continued. “This heathen land has fish, doesn’t it? So why can’t we get some just once?”

  A few of the men chuckled or mumbled their agreement. They were all tired of Allen’s complaints, but it didn’t mean they disagreed with them.

  “You should be grateful,” Douglas said, creating a void in the comments. “It’s not potatoes every damn day. Last week it was watery stew with a paltry bit of rabbit and a couple herbs. Something as thick as potatoes is a gift.”

  The silence hung in the air for a moment. It was true, a week before they had been complaining about the lack of rations, and now here they were with more than enough to eat and they were still unhappy with it.

  The money they had received thus far from the titled in England was enough to get them local produce and the ability to make purchases in the villages. They were hated by the villagers, yet the soldiers were also a benefit to the economy.

  Douglas had heard of more than a few troupes of soldiers who chose only to rob and plunder from the local villages, but he didn’t want to be counted among those men. He didn’t think it would do any good to create rifts without battles, and this was not worth the battle.

  He put the last bite of the heavy starch into his mouth and chewed quickly before standing to leave the group of men. He sensed that, whether they agreed with him or not, he was not overly welcome, as he had put a damper on their fun. He had been doing that a great deal lately, in fact.

  Douglas returned to his tent and sat down, putting his head on his hands for a moment and allowing it to rest there. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He knew only that he didn’t like the way he was feeling, didn’t understand why his mind was so beset with confusion and frustration.

  Finally, he felt ready to read the letter from his father. He took it and unfolded the paper to read whatever words might be thrown at him.

  Out of the paper fell a bit of currency, enough to keep their men fed for the month. It was a small relief and Douglas knew that he would have to get it to Daniel, who handled all the money, as soon as possible.

  Douglas then allowed himself to read the words on the page.

  Douglas,

  It is good to hear that you and your men are well. Your silence was to be expected. There is little to be said. I am sending the money as requested.

  Regards,

  The Earl of Ephurst

  Douglas sighed in relief. The letter was short and without blame. His father hadn’t seemed at all bothered by the fact that Douglas scarcely wrote and for that, he was grateful.

  Releasing his anxiety, Douglas wanted to get away from the camp for a bit. A scouting mission; that was what he needed. That was a great excuse to leave the camp and still appear as if he were not weak. However, he couldn’t bear the thought of a whole group of his men joining him, especially Allen, who was irritating to no end these days.

  Douglas left his tent and called for Richard Holloway. While he waited for his lieutenant, he also left the money with Daniel, who thanked him for reaching out to his father and for the fact that they would now be well looked after and have a bit of variety in their food, as well as some materials for their weapons.

  It was a great deal of good for them.

  Soon Richard was ready and he came to his general with excitement that he would be able to accompany him on the scouting mission.

  “Let’s head southeast,” Douglas said. “I’ve heard there might be activity near Mullview for us to discover.”

  In truth, the rumor about Mullview had only been a brief whisper mentioned once the day before, but Douglas knew that the day’s ride would lead them near Edinburgh and, more importantly, near Dunmore. To be sure, it wasn’
t directly on the path, but it was close by, and in his heart that was what Douglas needed.

  To be close.

  “Ye Jacobites, ye warriors, ye filthy little lairds! Come Englishmen, come victorious, and take back what was never theirs!” Richard sang. He laughed at the song invented by his friends at camp. The insult it left on the Jacobites thrilled the Hanoverians, who confidently held to their ownership of the land.

  The song typically got a laugh out of Douglas as well, but he was in no mood for it just then. It seemed petty and weak to sing such words. It seemed unnecessary and, in some ways, it seemed like a lie.

  Could it be that maybe the Jacobites were indeed justified in their claim on the land? Moreover, were they also justified in their hatred toward Douglas’ kind? Or was he merely seeking an excuse to justify the fact that he had fallen prey to his attraction and was so caught up in his thoughts about Grace that he was seeking opportunities to make an excuse for her heritage?

  They were a mere hour from Mullview when Douglas looked to the west. Dunmore was not far, perhaps an hour’s ride. Maybe two? Perhaps after checking in on things at Mullview he might find a reason to stop at the laird’s castle. He needed only a plausible excuse to give to Callum.

  The plan forming in Douglas’ mind was cut short when the sound of a bullet ripped just past his left ear, sending a gentle wave of air against him. It had been a mere two feet away and he felt his eyes growing wide in alarm.

  “Holloway!” he called, as the lieutenant dodged another shot and the men began riding quickly to the east.

  Shouts came from either side of them and Douglas realized where they had landed themselves.

  Exactly in the crossfire of battle.

  “Holloway, come this way!” he called and Richard rode behind him, dodging bullets as their horses galloped.