Seduced By The Noble Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Medieval Historical Romance

by Ann Marie Scott

  It was time to go.

  A moment later, Isla and Andrew had left their bedroom. They descended to the ground floor where they made their way to the entrance hall with Isla clutching her baby brother close to her chest. She hesitated at the edge. It was a big space where she could be easily seen, but already there were two sets of knights in battle there and none of them took any notice as she ran in a blind panic from one side to the other. She did not look at them, but she heard the clash of metal on metal as their swords struck one another and then the sickening scream of a dying man.

  Isla looked back to see an image that would live with her to her dying day: a swordsman crashing to the ground and falling into a pool of his own blood. She turned away, repulsed by the sight.

  The siege tunnels were all over the castle and the closest ones led from a trapdoor in the stables which was usually covered in straw, but this meant crossing the courtyard. Isla stood with her heart in her mouth waiting for just the right moment to cross. She had never been so scared. She could smell blood and hear the screams of the injured and dying, but worst of all, she could hear the triumphant cries of the victors. She looked up and saw where the enemy had penetrated the wall with a siege catapult. A few enemy soldiers had managed to get in, but not many; the Auchterlinn garrison was putting up a determined resistance.

  She waited for a space to open up between the duels then ran. It was a hazardous sprint of less than a hundred yards, but it felt like miles to Isla. When she reached the stables, Isla skidded to a halt, almost falling down the open trapdoor.

  “Milady,” said a voice from below and she looked down to see a knight in full armor standing at the bottom of the ladder. She placed Andrew in his outstretched arms and scrambled down.

  “Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “How many have got out?”

  The man smiled grimly. “Maist o’ us, milady,” he answered, “but there are plenty still tae come. Ye’d best get oot o’ here as fast as ye can. Godspeed.”

  Isla looked at his kind face and hoped he survived. “God bless you,” she said then turned and fled.

  The siege tunnels were a terrifying network of passages that went under the castle and the moat. They emerged three hundred yards further on in a patch of undergrowth. Every fifty yards or so a knight or a servant stood with a lantern, but it did little to penetrate the overwhelming darkness and by the time they reached the end, Isla felt as if her heart was going to burst out of her chest with fear.

  When she stood up at the top of the tunnel, she looked back in horror. There were great catapults slinging stones at the walls, and as she watched, a section of the battlements came crashing down on two knights who were fighting right underneath it. Some of the enemy’s tents had been set on fire by burning arrows from above and their horses had panicked and were milling around, trampling people, equipment, and tents. Their terrified neighing sounded like the screams of those in torture. It was chaos. This had been her home where she had been loved and kept safe and now it was being destroyed. Isla turned away, feeling her heart break.

  Will I ever come back here? she thought. She thought of her father who was still trapped inside and wondered if he was still alive and then she turned and determinedly ran away. She would not look back again. Andrew, safe in a sling on Isla’s chest, contentedly slept through it all, but he was almost two years old and becoming heavier by the day. She dreaded the journey.

  There was a good road to Arbroath, but Isla could not use it. A woman on her own with a baby was terribly vulnerable and Isla would take no chances. She would be too visible on the road. Even if it took her a fortnight to get to her aunt and uncle’s house, she would get there. Isla promised herself. There was no going back now. Her home was likely destroyed and her friends and father dead... The thought was unbearable, but she had to journey on for Andrew’s sake. Her Uncle Broch would take them in, she was certain.

  It would have taken a couple of days to get to Arbroath by horse since it was only fifty miles or so, but Isla was on foot. Moreover, she was struggling with a small toddler who cried intermittently, wanted to walk sometimes, and then had to be changed, fed, and put to sleep.

  “Andrew, we will eat soon, wee babby,” she crooned, rocking him in her arms, which were aching from exhaustion. “Then we will lie down in a nice soft cozy bed, Isla will light a fire, and we will sleep until morning. When we wake up, there will be warm sunshine.” She was speaking more for her own comfort and reassurance, but the sound of her voice seemed to be lulling Andrew to sleep.

  If only we could be warm, she thought. I would sell my soul for a soft bed.

  She had resigned herself to a freezing night in the open when all of a sudden, she saw the lights of a building far ahead. As Isla came closer, she saw that it was a roadside inn. “Oh, thank God!” she cried with a rush of relief. With the last of her strength, she ran toward it, tears streaming from her eyes.

  It was a humble place and spotlessly clean. In that moment to Isla, it looked like a palace. The proprietor looked at her askance when she enquired about a room. Isla’s upper-class accent singled her out as someone special and therefore noticeable. There were two men at the bar, but they took little notice of her until she spoke then they looked at her with frank curiosity. To Isla’s eyes, however, any unfamiliar man was a potential threat, so she kept a watchful eye on them.

  “Do you serve food here?” Isla asked. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger since she was trying to eke out their precious supplies and had been giving most of the little she had to Andrew.

  “Aye, mistress, but only plain fare,” the landlady told her. She was a plump and motherly little woman. She smiled at Isla and Andrew as she spoke, stretching out a hand to stroke Andrew’s cheek. The baby chuckled. “We hae herrings an’ bannocks. No’ fancy, but it will fill ye up!” She laughed heartily until her chins wobbled.

  Isla smiled. “It sounds delicious,” she told her gratefully. “I will have some for me and some for the wee man.”

  “He’s a bonny bairn an’ ‘tis plain tae see ye love him very much, mistress,” she said, smiling widely. “Yer son?”

  “Yes,” Isla lied. “I am Mary McBride and this is Fergus.” She had worked out several cover stories as she walked along so that she could cover her tracks if anyone was following her. When the McTavishes found that she had escaped, they might have dispatched a band of kidnappers to recover her and hold her and Andrew to ransom. A noblewoman walking in the wilderness with a baby looked extremely conspicuous, so she had to do the best she could to avoid suspicion. Now, she was trying out her first fiction to see how convincing it sounded.

  “I was meant to be meeting my husband in Aberdeen,” she said with a sigh. “He was on his way to Arbroath on urgent family business then I got a message to say that he had gone ahead of me and that I must catch him up. He did not leave a horse for me and I could not buy one or hire one – there were simply none to be had - so I have to walk. However, the road is good so it should not take me long.”

  The proprietor, Mrs. Bell, was not at all sure she believed the fine lady, but she said nothing more. She knew that transport of some sort could always be had even if it was only the humblest farmer’s cart. She thought that it was more likely that the woman was too impoverished to hire anything and too proud to tell her. She also thought that Isla was the loveliest young woman she had seen for a long time. Her eyes were dark blue and her hair shone like the polished chestnuts they got from Aberdeen in the autumn. However, many proud families had been thrown into penury during the wars with the English.

  “Aye, well, be careful, hen,” she warned. “There’s bandits in these parts, so they tell us. Is that no’ right, lads?” The two men at the bar nodded in agreement. “I hae never seen ane, but ye cannae be too careful. A young wummin isnae safe, especially ane wi’ a bairn. Keep yer eyes open, lassie, an’ dinnae trust anyone.”

  The food and ale came and Isla fed Andrew first even though she was famished. When the time came to
eat her own food, Mrs. Bell bustled over to her.

  “Let me take him, mistress,” she offered. “Ye look fair starved an’ I hae three o’ me ain bairns, so I knaw whit I’m daein’! He will come tae nae harm wi’ me.”

  Andrew went easily into Mrs. Bell’s outstretched arms and then she proceeded to play a clapping game with him which had Andrew chuckling in moments. Isla wished she could stay in this safe comfortable place for a while longer.

  “Thank you,” Isla said gratefully before she fell on her meal, wolfing it down in a most unladylike fashion. When she had finished, she took Andrew to bed with her and then she lay in the darkness thinking for a long time before she fell asleep.

  Her flight from her home seemed like months ago instead of just that morning. She was aching all over from the unaccustomed exercise and she had no idea how she was going to accomplish the rest of the journey without killing or crippling herself, but she had set her heart on getting to Arbroath even if it cost her every penny and ounce of strength she had.

  I may not be strong, she thought, but I have determination and willpower. There is nothing wrong with my wits either. I can think quickly. Suddenly, she felt a surge of confidence. She was still young and healthy and in a few days, she would be fit too. She yawned then smiled. They were going to be fine. She began to pray, but she had only managed a few words of the Lord’s Prayer before exhaustion claimed her.

  Chapter 2

  When Isla woke up the next morning, she could hardly move. Her limbs and back ached and a headache was forming just behind her eyes. As well as that, Andrew had decided that he was in the mood to play and was not best pleased when Isla stopped him. However, he calmed down once she gave him his breakfast. He and Isla ate their porridge, drank their milk, and then it was time to go.

  Mrs. Bell’s heart filled with pity when she saw Isla’s meager stock of belongings and the way she carefully counted out the coppers for her bill. She had no idea that Isla was carefully cultivating the image of a distressed gentlewoman to cover the fact that she was, in fact, the daughter of a very rich Laird. She tried to give Mrs. Bell an extra farthing, but the landlady refused it.

  “I dinnae need it, lass,” she said, smiling. She went to the kitchen and brought out a cloth bag full of bannocks for them. “A wee somethin’ for the road,” she told her kindly. “I knaw how much wee boys eat!”

  “Thank you!” Isla had never been so grateful for anything in her life. She hugged the kind woman and with a little wave, they were off. The landlady watched them for a little while as they walked along the road, but she went into the house before they turned off and went into the wilderness.

  The night at the inn soon proved to be the most comfortable night they would spend during the entire journey. Isla spent most of her time hacking her way through tangles of undergrowth and hillsides covered in beautiful but unrelentingly tough heather that caught at her ankles and slowed their journey to a crawling pace. Andrew was a dead weight whether she carried him in front of her or on her back and sometimes she wanted nothing more than to lie down to sleep and never wake up again. But still, she prevailed.

  They spent the following three nights in improvised shelters made from pine boughs—the survival skills that Glenn had taught Isla in childhood were proving to be very useful now. They were relatively comfortable wrapped in blankets and cloaks with a fire by their feet and Andrew slept like a log. Now that she had time, Isla thought of her father, wondering if he had survived, was injured, or worse. She could not bear to think of the word dead, though she doubted the alternative was likely. Exhausted and devastated, Isla fell asleep.

  On the fourth morning, Isla was packing up her makeshift camp in preparation for another long day’s traveling when she heard the sound of rough men’s voices nearby. They were heavily armed with crossbows and swords. Bandits! She peered over the branches and her fears were confirmed. Their obscene language and general filthiness repulsed her and she realized that she was in grave danger.

  Hastily, Isla ducked back underneath the branches that made up her shelter and waited, hardly daring to breathe and hoping that the party would pass her by without seeing them. She had put a hand over Andrew’s mouth to stop him from crying out. Luckily, the bandits turned away and Isla breathed out a sigh of relief as she saw their horses turning around. However, she took her hand away from Andrew’s mouth a second too soon and he let loose a piercing yell. She clamped her hand back on his mouth, but the damage had already been done.

  The men wheeled their horses back again and all six of them began cantering back toward her. Isla looked around frantically, but the only option she had was to burrow back into her shelter and stay as still and quiet as possible. It was all she could do; she prayed as she had never prayed before for deliverance.

  Then Isla had a sudden idea. Just above her head, there was a nest and she could hear the sound of fledglings cheeping inside it. Bending over them was a mother bird who was dropping pieces of food into the mouths of her chicks. Isla reached up and knocked the nest with her fist causing the mother bird to fly up out of the tree with a shriek. She flew around for a while, calling over and over again before settling back in her nest. It was not quite the same noise that Andrew had made, but it was close enough that it seemed to convince the outlaws.

  They laughed and punched each other, passing a bottle of whiskey around between them. She realized that every one of them was so drunk that it was a miracle they could stay on their horses.

  “Hey, Alec!” one of them called. “You thought there might be a plump wee hen in there, did ye no’?”

  There was a chorus of raucous, ribald laughter.

  “Aye,” said another, “he’s only got ane thing on his mind! Sorry, pal, ye’re oot o’ luck this time!”

  Isla was weak with relief. She lay where she was for a full ten minutes before crawling out of her patch of shelter. She stood up very cautiously, but the bandits were long gone and she could only see them now as faint dots in the distance, moving away from her as she watched. She shouldered her pack again and put Andrew into his sling. Her feet were scratched and sore, but she had learned to ignore the pain because she had no choice.

  After that, Isla was walking for hours and she felt like she was almost dead on her feet when she heard another set of hoof beats. Thinking that the outlaws were coming back, Isla limped toward a tree and tried to hide behind it. She could hardly believe her eyes when a group of soldiers in liveried armor came down the hill toward her. They were terrifying and they had seen her. Her heart was hammering so hard that she thought they must have heard it. Although her every instinct was to hold onto Andrew more tightly, she stopped herself, knowing that he would scream. She bit down on her lip to stop herself from doing so then screwed her eyes shut and began to pray. Dear God, please do not let them see me!

  It was futile, for the company stopped and wheeled around to encircle the tree which she was hiding behind and then the leader of the soldiers dismounted. Outlaws first and now armed horsemen, Isla thought. Just my luck! She had no idea who these men were, but if they decided to attack her, she would be helpless to defend herself.

  The captain of the soldiers dismounted and approached her with a drawn sword. Every inch of him spelled danger, but instead of laying hands on her, he bowed. “Do not be alarmed,” he told, sheathing his sword. “You have nothing to fear from us, mistress. Are you hurt?”

  Isla shook her head.

  “Who are you?” he asked. He was a big man and he was frowning at her in a very suspicious manner. “It is a strange thing to see a young woman with a baby wandering in the wild. Do you not know that there are bandits in these parts?”

  Isla was caught off guard by the question. She stared dumbly into a pair of steely gray eyes and found that she was too scared to speak.

  “I think you had better come with us,” the tall man said. “Can you ride?”

  Isla found her voice. “I can, but I have no horse,” she told him.

  T
he captain turned to one of the smaller soldiers. “William, make room on your mount for this lady.” He looked at her feet. “She cannot walk any further. And move slowly, please. The baby is asleep.”

  “I have seen bandits today,” she said weakly.

  “Where?” the captain asked sharply, suddenly alert.

  Isla pointed. “That way,” she answered, passing a hand over her forehead. Her head was still throbbing. Her feet were aching and blistered too, the idea of riding on a horse was a welcome one, but Isla still feared for her safety and Andrew’s. Who were these men?

  “How many were there?” His voice was becoming dangerous. Despite his assurances, she grew more and more terrified by the second.

  “Six.”

  “Were they armed?” he asked. Isla felt as if his stare was boring a hole in her forehead.

  “They had crossbows and swords and they were very, very drunk,” she answered, her voice bitter.

  “Did they not see you?” The captain of the guard was curious, but he also looked doubtful.

  He is finding this hard to believe, Isla thought and began to panic. She wanted to divert their attention so she could carry on journeying to Arbroath. “We were in hiding, but my baby cried out. I tried to quieten him, but they had already heard us.” She shook her head as if to clear it of bad thoughts and then went on to tell him about her ruse disturbing the bird’s nest and how it had helped her escape.

  “Very clever,” the captain complimented and smiled. He looked at her with admiration in his eyes. At any other time, Isla might have found him attractive, but now she was hungry and exhausted. If they were going to use her the way the outlaws had intended to, she wished they would do so immediately so that the agony would at least be done with quickly.