Highlander’s Tempted Guard (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance)

by Adamina Young

  “Thank ‘e.” She flung the words abstractedly at the footman as she covered the small distance that would take her to Hunter’s door. Her knock was more polite but no less demanding.

  “Who is it?” His voice sounded wide awake and she had a feeling he knew full well who was at his door.

  “It’s me, Lady Fiona.”

  “This is most unseemly. Does yer uncle ken that ye seek out the company of men in the middle o’ th’ night?”

  Fiona snorted. “I am here wi’ a footman. I simply need tae ask ye a question.”

  “Can it no wait until morning?” He sounded profoundly irritated.

  “No. It cannae.”

  She heard his loud sigh even through the door and then he opened it to peer out at her with raised eyebrows. “What is it?”

  “I need tae ask ye if’n my sisters can come wi’ me tae Glendale.”

  His eyebrows rose higher. “Well, that is hardly an urgent question.”

  He made to close the door and she reached out to stop him. “Please. I need tae ken.”

  “In that case, no. Yer sisters cannae come tae Glendale. Are ye satisfied?” He slammed the door in her face.

  She stood stock-still, face pale, limbs shaking. It was a shock even though it was no surprise.

  “Shall I escort ye tae bed miss?” the footman asked, his voice laced with concern.

  Slowly she shook her head. “No thank ‘e.” She shuffled off, feeling as if she were an old woman, limbs creaky with disuse. The only reason she was doing this was for her sisters. If she could not see them, or be with them, then what was the use?

  Daividh set out early in the morning. On a fast horse, Glendale was three days’ ride away and he intended to get there and back before anyone knew he was gone. He knew that Simon would cover for him as best he could but there was only so much the other warrior could do. He did not know what the laird would do if he knew what Daividh was up to. He suspected that it would not be good.

  He stopped by the side of the road when he could no longer ride and tethered the horse to a post. He ate some bread and drank water before curling up and going to sleep. At the crack of dawn, he was up and on his horse, riding hell for leather. He arrived in Glendale at dusk of the third day and was relieved to find that the town was large enough to have an inn.

  After dunking his head in a basin of water, and shaking the wetness out of his hair like a dog, he ventured into the dining hall and sat near the fire where everyone could see him. He could already see the covert glances cast his way, full of curiosity. He was willing to bet that not many strangers passed through this borough, what with it tucked on the back end of a loch and having nothing to offer the average traveler. The market was small and basic, there was a blacksmith and a butcher in the village as well as a church and a square which was used for market days, executions, and village meetings.

  Daividh drank his ale and waited for the people to come to him. It didn’t take long before a burly man with a full beard lumbered over, bleary eyes glaring. “We dinnae tak’ weel tae strangers here,” he said as if issuing a declaration.

  Daividh smiled, taking a sip of his drink. “Is that so? What if I bought ye a tankard o’ ale?”

  The man hesitated and then sat down. “I suppose…” His words trailed off as Daividh lifted his hand and called for another one. They drank in silence for a while, just sizing each other up.

  “Name’s Angus McCabe,” the man said once his tankard was empty. Daividh called for another with a smile.

  “Campbell,” he replied.

  “Oh aye? Are ye from doon south or up north?”

  Daividh hesitated slightly before deciding to lie. “Up north.”

  Angus nodded. “Knew a Fraser Campbell from yonder hill. Is he kin t’ye?”

  Daividh shook his head. “I dinnae ken him. But I been soldiering for years. Lots a kin I forgot.”

  Angus grinned. “Och aye.”

  They drank.

  “Are ye from around these parts?” Daividh asked.

  “Aye. I grew up doon the road.”

  Daividh nodded. “Ye’re a crofter then, frae the laird?”

  “Aye, my faither used t’be a tacksman for the Hunter.”

  “Hunter ye say?”

  “Aye. He’s the local laird.”

  “Mmm. Is he any good? I'm looking tae sell my sword.”

  Angus looked away, a frown marring his forehead. He didn’t say anything which was more than an answer for Daividh.

  “I see,” he murmured.

  Angus looked at him and then turned, gesturing at an old man on the next table. “Ye should speak wi’ Richard. He can tell ye better’n anyone aboot the laird.”

  Daividh perked up. “Och aye, send him over.” He lifted his hand to the serving girl, asking for another tankard to be brought. By the time he turned back, Richard was sitting opposite him, his watery blue eyes fixed on the tankard in front of Daividh. Fortunately, the serving girl brought him his own before he could reach out and grab it.

  “Now, tell me aboot the laird,” Daividh said.

  “Hunter?” Richard sneered. “He is no laird. Just a barbarian pretending. He come here from Ireland ye ken? Claimed tae be the auld laird’s kin. The laird was childless, welcomed him in. Hunter took advantage, killed him in ‘is sleep.”

  Daividh leaned back. “Hmm,” he said skeptically, hoping to loosen the man’s tongue further. “And how would ye ken tha’?”

  Richard leaned forward confidentially. “A footman saw the whole thing.”

  “Why did ye no have him arrested then?”

  Richard snorted. “Who’ll believe a footman ower a laird?”

  “And so? He simply took ower the land?”

  “Aye.” Richard nodded.

  “Why did he no get married?”

  Richard’s eyes narrowed. “How d’ye ken tha’?”

  Daividh froze. “I…”

  Richard shook his head. “Aye, ye ken this man do ye no? What’d he take from ye?”

  Daividh shook his head. “Nothing...yet.”

  Richard sniggered. “Ye should ken tha’ if’n there is something he wants from ye, he willnae stop until he gets it.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Oh aye. Why d'ya think he isnae marrit?”

  Daividh leaned forward, eyes boring into Richard’s. “He set his sights on someone?”

  “Aye. There was a baron’s daughter with a dowry he went after. Her father held a jousting competition and said the victor would have the spiles. She was the spiles.”

  “Oh aye? I take it he dinnae win?”

  Richard shook his head. “Scotsman named Douglass got the prize.”

  Daividh lifted an eyebrow. “Douglass ye say? Where frae?”

  “Round Braenaird I believe.”

  Daividh leaned back, his eyes alight. “I see.”

  12

  Secrets and Lies

  The squealing is what alerted her in addition to the high excited voices speaking all at once. She leaped out of bed, rushing to the door and flinging it open.

  Catching sight of them milling about in the corridor, arguing about going to bed or waking her up, she screamed, "Jamesina! Ùna! Fenella! Maisie! Aileen!"

  "Fiona!" they screeched back before lunging forward and surrounding her with love.

  "We've missed ye so—"

  "Ye look pale—"

  "What have ye been up to—?"

  "Ye look thinner—"

  They all spoke at once, pawing anxiously at her.

  She lifted up her hands to quell the excitement, smiling from ear to ear. "Lassies! Calm doon. We dinnae need tae all speak at the same time. Remember, we're no at hame. Try tae behave yersel'." The grin on her face diminished the strength of her words but Fiona couldn't bring herself to care. She was so happy to see her sisters.

  "Come." She tugged at Ùna's hand and the others followed. "Let us retire tae my chambers and ye can tell me all aboot yer journey. What news from hame?" She
was practically bouncing on her feet, so re-energized to have her sisters with her again.

  Daividh rode hell for leather for Dunavar, unsure of what he would find but knowing he had to stop Fiona's marriage. Whatever Hunter's motives were he could only guess but whatever they were they seemed sinister in the extreme. He arrived in the middle of the night, alighting from his horse and walking it to the stables before retiring to his cottage. It had been a long hard ride but it was still difficult to rest, what with the new information he had obtained churning through his mind at top speed.

  Laird Hunter had engaged in a jousting competition with Murdo Douglass, Fiona’s father, for the hand of her mother. He had lost and then had never sought to marry anyone else.

  Was it love? Had he been pining for the woman?

  It seemed unlikely considering everything he knew about the man.

  Which meant there was an ulterior motive for his interest not only in Fiona’s mother but in Fiona herself. If he could only find what the link was involved in marrying into this particular lineage. The best way to find out was to ask Fiona herself. Even though she had specifically asked him not to pursue this line of inquiry, she had to acknowledge that he was right to do so. He could barely wait for sunrise so he could speak to her.

  He sighed, lying back on his bed, hands placed behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. He did not really expect to sleep, but when he opened his eyes again, daylight was streaming in through the slats in his window.

  He jerked upwards, startled, realizing he’d fallen asleep atop his bed with his boots still on. He snorted, shuffling off the bed, and went to conduct his ablutions. When he was as refreshed as possible, he trudged over to the castle, hoping to find out where Fiona was and snatch an opportunity to speak with her.

  He was not surprised to find the castle already bustling but there seemed to be a lot more excitement than usual. He grabbed a passing footman. “Wha’s going on?”

  “Preparations for the wedding a’ course.” He grinned at Daividh as if he was the one getting married. Daividh’s mouth twisted in a sneer.

  “Aye tha’s guid. Lady Douglass, where is she?”

  The footman furrowed his brow as if thinking very hard. “She’s wi’ her sisters I believe. They’re fitting frae gowns. A seamstress was called this morning.”

  “A seamstress?”

  “Aye.”

  Daividh was walking away before he even thought to thank the man, wondering what Fiona could possibly be thinking. Even after what he’d told her, she could not possibly be thinking about going through with this wedding. She was not that foolish nor that desperate. So why would she be trying on gowns as if she intended to walk down an aisle and be joined to this man?

  He headed straight for her chambers and knocked imperiously on the door even as it occurred to him that he was courting scandal.

  “Who is it?” a high piping voice called, and he knew it was not Fiona’s.

  “’Tis Daividh Campbell. I wish tae speak wi’ Lady Fiona Douglass. ’Tis urgent.”

  The door flew open and familiar green eyes peered out at him. Except this pair was attached to an excitable child clad in a bright yellow gown and looking up at him with those viridian orbs bright with curiosity. He stopped short, caught wrong-footed. “Er, guid morning t’ye.”

  She grinned wide and happy. “Guid morning. Ye’re the knight in shining armor are ye no?”

  Daividh blinked in surprise, lost for words. The girl let out a tinkling laugh before turning back to the room. “Fiona! It’s for ye.” She stepped back with a last smile and vanished into the chamber. Her form was replaced by the taller, more dignified one of her sister, who was already looking at him with censure in her emerald eyes and shaking her head. “Wha’ did ye do?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Wha’ makes ye think I did anything?”

  “I havenae seen ye for days and now ye’re here, clearly havenae shaved for days, looking weary. So wha’ did ye do?”

  In spite of himself, Daividh was impressed by her deductions.

  “That doesnae matter at the moment. Wha’ matters is wha’ I’ve learned. Ye willnae like it.”

  She was shaking her head even before he finished speaking. “No. Dinnae tell me. This wedding will go head and there’s no a thing ye can do tae stop it.”

  Daividh stepped closer, blocking the doorway as she tried to close the door. “Did ye ken that he competed frae yer mither’s hand? Tha’ he lost tae yer father? Tha’ he never sought to marry ever again? And now he comes frae ye? Do ye no want to ken why?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “How did ye find all that oot?”

  “I went tae Glendale—”

  “Ye went tae Glendale? Have ye taken leave of yer senses? Ye dinnae ken who saw ye and who will tell. Why would ye do tha’?”

  He looked intently into her eyes, taking a step closer and grabbing her wrist. “For ye.”

  She froze, her eyes boring into his, her bosom heaving. “Ye cannae…” Her throat clicked and she swallowed. “Ye cannae put yersel’ in danger on my account. It isnae worth it. Ye hear me?”

  “I hear ye,” he whispered, “and I disagree.”

  She huffed in annoyance. “Whatewer the man wants wi’ me, he needs me alive tae get it. The same courtesy doesnae extend t’ye!”

  Daividh smiled. “So ye’re worried frae my welfare? Can ye not then concede that I am worried frae yers?”

  Fiona shook her head in frustration. “Tha’ is beside the point! Dinnae put yersel’ in danger frae me. I forbid it.”

  He cocked an eyebrow in amusement. “Aye weel, ye’re nae my laird so I dinnae have tae do as ye say.”

  Fiona hands folded into fists and she growled in frustration. “Please!” Her teeth were gritted and her face was flushed as she willed him to obey her.

  He rubbed gently at her wrist, moving even closer. “It does my heart guid tae ken ye’re fashit frae me but ye cannae make me back down. I will protect ye wi’ my last breath if’n it comes to tha’.”

  “I dinnae want ye wastin’ yer last breath on me!” Fiona hissed.

  “Weel, too bad. Because ye have it awready.”

  They glared at each other, Daividh’s hand tight around Fiona’s wrist, at a standoff. Suddenly Fiona’s shoulders slumped, as she sighed in defeat. “Alrigh’ then, tell me what ye found oot.”

  Fiona mulled over the news that Daividh had given her while her sisters sat around her, all talking at once as usual. It seemed that there was more to her betrothal than she realized. She thought about confronting Laird Hunter about it, making him tell her what he was about. But then she might tip her hand and he would wonder how she found out. His eye might fall on Daividh Campbell, and that she could not risk.

  She felt no doubt that the laird was a killer and would not hesitate to eliminate the soldier if he thought that was necessary to achieve his ends.

  I have to go canny.

  There were other members of the laird’s retinue that she could ask. If she did so discreetly and carefully there might be no repercussions. At least not to Daividh. She had no doubt that Laird Hunter had his spies in the house, who would not fail to note how many times Daividh had sought her out. They probably had also noted his absence. It would not be hard to put two and two together should she not be careful.

  She shot to her feet and was walking to the door before she noticed the uncharacteristically dead silence behind her. “Where are ye going?” Jamesina asked, as the rest of them stared at her, nonplussed.

  “Uh...I er, have tae see th’ cook aboot nuncheon,” she said before opening the door and leaving quickly before anyone else came up with another question. She hurried off to the courtyard where she’d seen some of her uncle’s soldiers lounging about.

  She searched each face but Daividh wasn’t there.

  “’E doesnae usually hang aboot here unless there’s trainin’ or such like,” a deep baritone said from behind her. She turned to see a tall sandy-haired man smiling wryly
at her.

  “I beg yer pardon?”

  “Yer lookin’ fer Campbell are ye no?”

  Fiona hesitated before nodding. “Aye.”

  “Och weel, he isnae here.”

  “Could ye tell him…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  Walking off, she thought quickly as to whom she could try to befriend. If random soldiers had noticed that she had a particular relationship with Daividh, it was time to pull back.

  Perhaps I could write him a note.

  But no, someone might intercept it.

  Sighing deeply, she knew she must leave it to chance. It was the only way to ensure everyone's safety.

  Daividh was in the fields, checking on his two pigs. The sow was with child and he was looking forward to the money he would make when he took the piglets to market. The sound of trudging footsteps had him turning his head to see who was approaching. He turned back when he realized it was just Simon Campbell, his friend.

  “What brings ye all this way?”

  Simon grunted. “Weel, I thought I’d do ye the favor of letting ye ken tha’ the princess is looking for ye.”

  Daividh turned his head to lift an eyebrow at Simon. “Princess?”

  Simon waved a hand dismissively. “Ye ken who I mean.”

  “How do ye ken she was looking for me?”

  Simon shrugged. “She came doon to the courtyard, started examining all the fighters’ faces. I thought I’d tell her wha’ she needed to ken before someone less friendly noticed.”

  Daividh narrowed his eyes as he kept staring at the pigs. "Did she tell ye why she was looking for me?"

  Simon snorted. "She doesnae ken me from Adam. Why would she?"

  Daividh sighed, shaking his head as he continued eyeing his pigs. "Did she at least listen to ye?"

  Simon threw back his head and guffawed. "She dinnae look like th' type tae listen if'n ye ask me."