Highlander’s Tempted Guard (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance)

by Adamina Young

  “Do ye wish tae walk aboot?”

  Fiona gave it some thought before nodding once. “Aye, I do. Come on. Let us go. I have heard tell of a fortune-teller in Drummacree. A most notorious harridan whose prophecies are afeared far and wide due tae how often they come true. I should like to ken my fate,” she replied airily.

  Julieta sighed deeply as she shook her head. “Are ye sure? Or are ye just being contrary?”

  Fiona snorted. “Can I no’ do both?”

  Julieta just shook her head and bent to the bags, extracting a woolen tartan and passing it to Fiona before refastening her cloak. “’Tis cold out. This’ll serve ye better than the shawl.”

  Fiona nodded, leaving the shawl spread out on her bed as she whirled around and headed to the door. “Guid. Weel if that is settled, let us be on our way.” She strode out the door, confident that Julieta would follow. At the end of the corridor she stopped short. If she went around the corner, she would be visible from the main hall of the inn. Maybe Daividh would see her. Maybe he would forcibly return her to her room. She did not want that kind of embarrassment. It was not that she was afraid of him. He simply came across as very brutal and she would not put it past him to manhandle her “frae yer own guid.”

  So she whipped around, almost smashing into Julieta who jumped back, her reflexes surprisingly quick. “Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  “I’m sorry. I dinnae see ye there.” Fiona walked around her maid and then back down the corridor. Julieta followed her with a loud sigh. At the end of the corridor, they could hear the noise from the kitchen—pots banging, a high-pitched voice reprimanding someone else, loud conversation...it would be an ideal place to slip out without necessarily being noticed.

  Fiona glanced back one more time to check that they were still free of pursuit and then slipped into the kitchen, keeping out of people’s way. She scurried as fast as she could towards the door that clearly led to the stables, Julieta on her heels.

  Heaving a sigh of relief as they stepped outside, she immediately began to head in the opposite direction to the stables. They walked quickly around the building and out of the gates, relaxing once they knew for sure they were unpursued.

  “This is a terrible idea Miss Douglass, and ye ken it weel. Why are ye doing this? Where are we going?” Julieta complained.

  Fiona huffed. “I awready told ye where we are going. Why must ye be sae ornery all the time? Just haud yer wheesht and follow me.”

  Julieta grumbled a bit more to herself but obligingly kept her own counsel as she followed Fiona. This was a relief because Fiona was not sure exactly where she was going. She simply followed the road until it brought them to the town square. There were a number of shops surrounding the Mercat Cross, as well as a church.

  To the left of the square was the market where vendors loudly advertised their wares. Fiona cautiously approached a woman selling pigeon pies, reached into her pocket for a penny, and handed it over. The woman put two pies in her hands and she handed one to Julieta before taking an appreciative bite.

  “Pardon me, ma’am, but we’re looking for the fortune-teller. Can ye tell us where we’ll find her?”

  The woman looked her up and down with narrowed eyes. “What does a young lady like ye want wi’ a spaewife?”

  Fiona pursed her lips. “That isnae any of yer consairn. Can ye direct me tae her or no?”

  The woman sighed and pointed further down the stalls. “Ye’ll find her at th’ end o’ this line. ’Tis the tent which looks black as midnight with the wee bawbee at th’ top.”

  Fiona nodded curtly. “Thank ‘e kindly.” She hurried off, dodging customers and stalls, slowing down as the path got narrower and darker. She turned her head to make sure that Julieta was still following, a sliver of fear shivering through her frame. It was still daylight but down at this end, the stalls were so close together that hardly any light filtered through. It was gloomy and dank, the ripe smell of rotting fruit permeating the air.

  Still, Fiona did not let it slow her down at all.

  She came to a stop at a large tent, covered with a midnight blue sheet as described by the pie woman. She lifted her hand tentatively, wondering if she should knock or simply barge in.

  “Come in Miss Fiona. I have been awaiting ye’re arrival since yesterday. What took ye sae long?”

  Fiona blinked into the gloom, trying to identify the direction from which the voice came. A slight movement on her left had her turning to see what looked like a bundle of rags in a corner. “Guid day t’ye?” she murmured tentatively.

  “Come in, Miss Fiona. Dinnae be shy.”

  Fiona crept tentatively into the room and stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor, waiting for the voice to give her further instruction. She flicked a glance behind her and realized that she was alone. Julieta had stayed outside. As she turned back around, a figure emerged from the dark making her dart backward and scream.

  Julieta stuck her head in the tent. “Miss Douglass? Are ye alrigh’?”

  Heart fluttering erratically, she nodded slowly, her bosom heaving as she placed a hand over it. “I-I was just startled,” she breathed.

  “Aye, alrigh’,” Julieta sounded dubious but she withdrew her head from the room anyway.

  “Forgive me. I dinnae mean to startle ye.” The fortune-teller had eyes so big and dark they seemed to swallow her entire face. Her skin was surprisingly smooth and she did not look very old. She was very different from the image of an old crone Fiona had been carrying about in her head.

  “’Tis alrigh’ I suppose.”

  The woman stepped aside, pointing to a chair. “Come. Sit.”

  Fiona stepped up to the chair right away and sat down. She smiled tentatively at the fortune-teller, who ignored her, crossing the small table that Fiona was sitting at and taking the wooden chair on the other side. She sat still, arms folded in her lap, and contemplated Fiona with those wide dark eyes.

  Fiona wanted to squirm, wondering if this had all been a colossal mistake. Then the woman began to speak.

  “How are yer sisters then?” she asked with a smile.

  Fiona just gaped at her. The woman reached for her hand and drew it to her, peering down at it. “Ye have a long life line. That means ye’ll live a long life. Is that what ye came here for? Hocus pocus?” She looked up at Fiona, seeming disappointed.

  “Uh…” Fiona scrambled for an answer. “Uh, no. I mean, I wish t’hear anything ye have tae say tae me.”

  She nodded once. “Guid.”

  “But first, what should I call ye?” Fiona hastened to add.

  The woman laughed, her voice sounding like a creaky loose plank in an old house. “I am Aifric.”

  Fiona nodded. “Very pleased tae make yer acquaintance. Now, how did ye ken my name?”

  Aifric laughed. “Ah ah, that would be tellin’.”

  Fiona stared. “Weel then? What can ye tell me?”

  Aifric laughed. “Are ye sulking my child? Perhaps ye should goand come back when ye’ve had a few more yea—”

  “No ma'am please,” Fiona interrupted frantically, waving her arms. “I’m sorry. Please tell me what ye can. I shall keep silent.”

  Aifric abruptly sobered. “Nae nae, ye can speak. I need ye tae speak.”

  Fiona quirked an eyebrow. “What would ye like me to say?”

  “Tell me, how are yer sisters?”

  Fiona cleared her throat nervously. “They were well when I left them. Should I be fashit?”

  “Ach, no. But ye mun’ keep them close. Ye’ll need their love and protection soon.”

  Fiona’s eyes widened. “What d’ye mean?”

  “I mean...this wedding ye are headed frae, it has more twists and turns than ye ken. And at the end of it all, ye shall unfurl a veritable worm’s nest. One ye might not ken what tae do wi’. ’Tis no too late tae turn away. Take do leannan and go back to your keep and wait for yer uncle to seek ye out. Do ghràidh will defend ye wi’ his life. But if ye choose tae goon,
then gird yer loins.”

  Fiona’s heart was pounding. “Who is this ‘love’ ye keep speaking of?”

  Aifric just smiled. “Do ye no ken? Think.”

  Fiona blinked at her, brow furrowed. “I...dinnae…” She trailed off, mind touching on Daividh.

  No.

  Surely not.

  She cannot mean...him?

  Her vision blurred and she swayed with dizziness. “Wha…?”

  “Ach, ’tis nae tha’ surprising, is it? Tell me ye havenae been making eyes at each other since ye met?”

  Fiona blushed crimson and looked away.

  Aifric gave a delighted laugh. “Aye, ’tis the sweet bloom of young love that may grow into a strong and healthy tree bearing abundant fruit...or it may be killed ifn’ it isnae watered and tended. ’Tis up to ye.”

  “Isn’t...a prophecy supposed tae be more definite?”

  “I’m afraid not, little one. Nothing is set in stone.”

  “Nothing?”

  Aifric spread out her hands. “Our Lord gave us free will. What we do wi’ it is up to us.”

  “But there are paths that are set frae us to walk, are they no?”

  “Ye pick yer paths, my dear. And then ye walk down them and sooner or later, ye come tae a crossroads, and ye pick a path...and another...and another. Sae far, all yer choices have brought ye here. Ye stand at a crossroads. Which way will ye go tae next?”

  “I suppose…” Fiona bit her lip, thinking hard. “I shall follow the road to unearth the worms. My faither always said that ignoring something willnae make it go away.”

  4

  Bedroom Blues

  Daividh loitered about the field, trying to pick up a trail for Fiona and her maid. There were no footprints, no little bits of cloth caught in the rough fencing, nothing to show that they were ever here. He walked back towards the inn and then detoured to the stables to find out if two women had taken out any horses.

  “We havenae seen twa women alone today. Have ye men?” the head groom asked as he mucked out a stall.

  There was a chorus of denials and Daividh deflated, wondering how he was to find them.

  “Did ye see twa women anywhere today? Mebbe they just walked past. One is about this tall,” Daividh said, putting his hand just a bit below his shoulder, “wi’ fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Her skin is pale and creamy. She has a bit o’ a haughty look aboot her but she’s kind enough tae her servant.”

  The head groom was looking at him with amusement. “We’re sorry ye’ve lost yer lady but we havenae seen her.”

  “She’s nae my lady,” Daividh felt compelled to protest.

  “Och aye…” The head groom sounded dubious.

  Daividh whirled around and hurried off, unable to keep looking the man in the eye. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have minded if she was his lady. But he had it from her own mouth that she was promised to another. Dreaming about impossibilities would do no one any good. He wandered back into the inn and into her room, seating himself on the bed as he thought hard.

  “There arenae many places she can go on foot. She must be close by if’n she left her bags. She’s a defiant wee thing sae she’s likely just asserting hersel’.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded in agreement with his own analysis, deciding that the best thing to do would be to wait right there for her to come back.

  Fiona stumbled out of the tent, feeling dazed, and was grateful when Julieta reached out for her and stopped her from falling.

  “Miss Douglass are ye alrigh’?” Julieta’s voice was high, breathless, and anxious.

  Fiona nodded vaguely, her eyes unfocused. “I'm fine,” she said absently, her mind churning with all the new information she had just acquired.

  “Wha’ did she say? Did she tell ye yer fortune? Will ye meet a handsome prince that will sweep ye off yer feet?” Julieta laughed uncomfortably at her own feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Fiona gave her a sharp look in response, much to her relief. She did not like how pale Fiona looked.

  “Shall we return to the inn then, Miss Douglass? I think ye need tae rest.”

  “Och aye, ye’re right. I’m tired and heartsore. Sleep will do me some guid.”

  “Let us go then. If ye want I can get us a carriage? Are ye very tired? It’s quite a walk.”

  Fiona smiled, warmed by Julieta’s concern. “I’m fine. Let us walk quietly. There is a lot to mull over.”

  Julieta simply nodded, taking Fiona’s arm in hers, and began to head back down the path. They walked in silence as Fiona pondered the seer’s last words.

  “Miss? Ye seem...fashit?” Julieta ventured.

  Fiona nodded slowly. “I am.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Fiona sighed. “The spaewife, she told me something. Something that would change the course of my life should I let it. Now I am wondering what I should do. I find that I am torn between my duty and mayhaps, my happiness. She told me I am at a crossroads. Which route should I take? Happiness or duty?”

  “Did she no gi’ ye a hint as to which one’s the right one?”

  Fiona huffed a laugh. “She said there isnae no ‘right’ one. Only what I choose. She said the Lord gave us free will.”

  Julieta snorted. “Och, mayhaps he gave free will to the lads. Not us lassies.”

  Fiona’s eyes softened as she turned to look affectionately upon the other woman. “Ye’re a wise one Julieta.”

  The maid beamed. “Aye, I am.”

  They turned into the lane leading to the inn and walked the rest of the way in silence. Fiona’s mind turned to Daividh and whether or not he might have discovered their absence. Hopefully, he was still in the hall, drinking the night away with the other men. They could slip back into their room through the kitchen and nobody needed to be any the wiser.

  The courtyard of the inn was just as busy as it had been when they left. A new stagecoach had arrived and passengers were alighting, stretching their legs or shambling off to the privy. Julieta and Fiona ignored them all, slipping down the side of the inn and scurrying towards the kitchen. A young boy was sitting by the door. He looked up as their loud footfall announced their presence and smiled, wide and pleased. “Good day t’ye both,” he said softly.

  “Good day t’ye lad.” Julieta smiled and waved while Fiona cast him an absent glance. Now that she was here, she could feel the increasing pounding of her heart. She could only focus on getting to her chamber and locking the door behind her so that she could pretend to have been there all night.

  “Dinnae fash,” Julieta whispered to her as if she knew Fiona’s fears.

  “Easy for ye tae say. Ye’re no the one who will be scolded if’n the soldier kens we left.”

  “I beg yer pardon! O’ course I shall be scolded. Ye dinnae think I’d let him scold ye on yer own?”

  Fiona laughed. “Och nae. O’ course not. Ye’re the soul of loyalty my Julieta.” She patted the maid on the arm. “Now go and see if ye can get us something tae eat and drink. I’m hungry again.”

  “Ach. Ye've a hungry worm in yer belly I dinnae wonder, Miss. I shall go the noo.” She turned back to the kitchen, leaving Fiona to proceed on her own.

  Almost humming softly under her breath, an amused smile on her face, Fiona strolled the rest of the way to her chambers. She came to an abrupt stop at the door, realizing it was open and a pair of booted feet were visible.

  Taking a deep breath, she peered into the relative gloom of the room and sighed with resignation as she caught sight of Daividh, lounging on the bed nearest the door.

  “Good even tae ye.” His deep baritone was even and calm but she could still tell that he was seething.

  “Uh...good even.” She swallowed. “What are ye doing in my chambers?”

  He snorted, his mouth twisting as he looked away from her. “The question is, why are ye no in yer chambers? Where have ye been?”

  Her heart tripped, rapid and irregular, her vision dimmed and steadied in ever-decreasing circles of blurrin
ess. Her hands shook and her face paled. She did not know why she was so afraid all of a sudden. There was nothing that Daividh could do to her at the moment.

  “Weel? Will ye no tell me what was so urgent ye had tae leave wi’out a word?” He bit out every word curtly although his tone stayed even.

  Fiona sighed. “I...uh, we went frae a walk. We dinnae go far. The room just felt very close and we needed some air.”

  “Is that sae? And ye couldnae tell me aboot it why?”

  Fiona shook her head, looking away. She had no viable explanation to give him for her actions. All she had was childish defiance and she suddenly did not want him to think of her as a child. “I dinnae think tae do it. I’m no used to accountin’ frae my presence or absence to anyone.”

  “Is that so? Not even yer faither?”

  Fiona gave him a sharp glance. “My faither is deid,” she said sharply.

  He bowed his head. “And it is sorry I am frae tha’. But ’tis a recent occurrence is it no? Did ye no answer tae him afore he died?”

  Fiona pursed her lips in annoyance. “Nae. I dinnae answer tae him. He let me have my freedom.”

  Daividh’s eyes narrowed. “He must ha’ been an exceptional man. A man o’ worth.”

  Fiona’s bottom lip trembled as she tried to compose herself. She and her father had always been close. Ever since her mother died, Fiona had stepped into her shoes, knowing that she had to be the mother figure for her younger sisters. Their father saw what she did for them and was very appreciative but also worried over her a lot.

  “Ye’re a young lassie too, my dear,” he would say gently, stroking her vivid red curls, his sad eyes watching her. “Ye shouldnae have tae care frae yer sisters like this. I should find me another wife.”

  His tone was always listless when he spoke of remarrying. Fiona knew he did not want to do that. The flame of his love for their mother still burned bright and strong. No other woman could measure up.

  So she did her best.

  She had loved him so, and she missed him like a lost limb.