Highlanders To Surrender To: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance

by Alisa Adams

  "Why are you so quiet tonight?" Lyle asked suspiciously, frowning at his friend.

  "I am thinking," Athol replied a little defensively.

  "About what? Or should I say about whom?" Lyle went on, frowning and laughing at the same time.

  Athol gave him a murderous look, which Lyle blithely ignored. Athol sighed. He hated Lyle in this mood when he seemed to know every thought Athol had in his mind. Athol was feeling guilty about his intimate encounter with Maura and wondered if he should tell Lyle. He was the closest thing Athol had to a brother and he knew that whatever he said would go no further, but it still made him uneasy knowing that Lyle might look at him in a different way since he despised Maura so much.

  "If I tell you something," he said cautiously, "will you promise not to judge me?"

  "I cannot promise that," Lyle answered, "but I will try to understand. Is it bad?"

  "Yes and no…" Athol looked at the sea to avoid Lyle's eyes for a moment. Suddenly he decided to get it over with. "I lay with Maura," he blurted out, "on the night of your ceilidh."

  Lyle was silent. "I see," he said eventually. "Well, why should I judge you about that? You are a man and she is a woman." He shrugged. "I cannot see why it worries you or why you think it would worry me."

  "You do not like her." Athol frowned at his friend. "Do you?"

  Lyle shrugged. "I do not know her," he replied, "it is just a feeling I have. I could be all wrong. But whether I am wrong or right, Athol, I have no right to judge you over this or any other matter."

  "So, you don't mind?"

  "Why should I?" Lyle asked irritably. "It has nothing to do with me."

  Nothing more was said until they were within the courtyard. Lyle gave Athol a despairing look. "It is not a friend you need, Athol," he stated as he gave his horse to the stable boy, "but a nursemaid."

  When Davina came out to meet them again it was obvious to Lyle, who had not seen her for a few days, that she had lost weight again. It was not much, but enough to thin down her face and sharpen her cheekbones.

  "You look lovely, Davina," he said and gave her a wide smile. She blushed and nodded, acknowledging the compliment.

  "Come in," she invited, extending an arm in welcome.

  Una was waiting for them and for the first time since Ruaridh's death she was not wearing black. She was still in a mourning color, a deep purple dress with a black veil, but the inky darkness of the first week had gone. Neither Lyle nor Athol remarked on it, probably because they had not noticed. However, Davina had commented on it just before they arrived. She tried not to believe that Una had somehow begun to move on so soon after her father's death, but it bothered her.

  Una saw her look. "Do you think it is too soon to wear half-mourning colors?" she asked anxiously. "Because I think Ruaridh would have wanted me to." She gave a tremulous laugh. "He always hated me in black."

  Davina embraced her. Knowing that her father's feelings would not have been hurt made her feel much better. "If it makes you feel happier, then I am happy too. Father would not have wanted you to mourn forever."

  "But maybe it is too soon," Una said doubtfully, frowning. Davina smiled and kissed her mother's cheek as the two men came clattering into the courtyard.

  "Do not worry," she whispered, "I will wear dark gray tomorrow. As you say, we need not be in black forever."

  59

  Maura's Afternoon

  Lyle had some news. "My father has made some discreet enquiries," he said, "only among those he can trust, of course. There were a few fathers whose sons may have courted Davina, but as soon as they heard about this alleged child they were scared off. The lairds were not keen to speak of it because they were threatened with violence, not on them, but on their crops and livestock, and those of their tenant farmers. No word was to get back to you. All this you know, of course, but I asked for a name this time. It appears one of these brave men slipped up." He paused to take a sip of his wine, "he mentioned the name 'Morrie,' when talking to one of his loathsome colleagues. He mentioned that 'Morrie disnae want mistakes,' whatever that means."

  "Perhaps the head of a criminal family or gang?" Davina suggested.

  "I have not been able to find out more yet." Lyle looked grim. "And the lambing season is almost upon us when there will be little time for anything." He looked at them regretfully.

  "That is very true," Athol said ruefully, "but—"

  Una held a hand up for silence. "Thank you for your efforts on our behalf," she said gratefully, "but we know you are both working men and that your time is given freely to us out of what little you can spare. There is no obligation on your part. As a laird's wife, I know how chaotic lambing season is!"

  They laughed and Athol got up from the table then went to the fire to warm his hands. He was dreading the ride home; it was a freezing night. He wished he could crawl into bed with Davina just so that he could wrap his arms around her. A warm woman was much more pleasant than a warm stone.

  "What are you thinking?" Una came up behind him to fill up his goblet of wine. He laughed shortly.

  "Do you really want to know?" His voice was serious but, his eyes were laughing. Una had a wonderful sense of humor.

  "I do," she replied, “I have a feeling it is something exciting.”

  "I was wishing I had a nice lady to share my bed with," he replied, smiling. "There. Are you shocked?"

  "No." Her face, as she looked into the fire, was full of sadness. "I know what you mean. You do not have to be intimate, just warm. I miss my Ruaridh so much."

  Athol put his arm around her shoulders. "Yes," he sighed, "I am sorry. Under the circumstances, this is an insensitive subject to be discussing."

  "At least I have Davina to keep me warm," she mused, "but you are a handsome laird! It will not be long before you are wed."

  He smiled at her. I wish I had Davina to keep me warm too, he thought wistfully.

  A week later Davina received a note from Maura asking her and Una to call on her the next day. Davina was delighted and showed her mother the letter, written in beautiful copperplate script. It was the hand of a scholar, and they were both deeply impressed.

  Dear Mistress and Lady Anderson,

  I would be delighted if you would both come and enjoy my hospitality on the afternoon of Wednesday he twentieth of April. I am acquainted with very few of my neighbors here and I would very much like to know you better.

  Yours sincerely,

  Maura McKay

  Davina penned a reply straight away and sent it with one of the grooms.

  Dear Mistress McKay,

  We would be delighted to take you up on your kind invitation, and we are both looking forward to it very much.

  Yours affectionately,

  Davina and Lady Una Anderson

  "She is so kind, Mother," Davina said happily, "and she said that she needed my opinion on her wedding gown. I cannot wait to see it!"

  "Neither can I," Una admitted, "but if that girl wore a grain sack she would still look lovely!"

  They laughed again and went up to the battlements to look at the view that always inspired Davina. The very north of the wild Kingdom of Scotland was bleak, rugged, and inhospitable to strangers. On horseback, it could take two weeks to get to Inverness, the nearest town of any size at all. Going by boat was the only other option and the Atlantic Ocean was no more welcoming. But the view over the rugged coastline to the distant horizon was one of the things that made Davina happy. Even when the world was gray, the sea was gray, and the trees were black, it still gave her a thrill to see it. She loved to watch the white horses dash themselves onto the shore, exploding in spouts of foam, and the storms boiling in from the sea.

  Now she and Una stood with their hair blowing back, thinking of Ruaridh, who had loved this view too. "I wish I had known that he was going to leave me," Una said sadly, "just that last day. I could have cooked him all his favorite dishes, we could have lain in bed embracing each other, I could have told him I loved him over
and over again and made him laugh. If only I had known."

  Davina could say nothing, for her throat was choked with tears.

  "I would not like to be the person on the other end of my wrath when I find him." Her voice and face were suddenly savage. "I may only be a little woman, Davina, but there is nothing small about my anger. I will find him and I will kill him."

  Then she turned away and went downstairs, leaving Davina to her own thoughts for a while longer. Eventually, a cold sleety rain began to blow in from the sea, and its needle-sharp drops driving against her face forced her inside. Another beautiful day in Sutherland, she thought, laughing inside.

  Maura was staying in Lyle's house and that was where she received them. As Una had observed, she would have looked good in anything, and today in her loose shift dress of pale blue with its dark gray veil she still managed to look like a queen.

  "Mistress Davina! Lady Una!" she cried, stretching out her arms in welcome. "I feel as though I have not seen you for a hundred years! Come and be warm." She kissed both their cheeks and led them into the breakfast room, which was warmed by a cozy hearth and had thick embossed velvet curtains at the windows to keep out the draughts. The paneling was oaken, carved, and polished to a satin sheen, and the candles stood proudly in silver holders.

  Lyle's father was not a laird, but as a gentleman farmer he had a generous portion of land and Lyle would look forward to a good inheritance when his father passed away. There did not seem to be much chance of that, however. Stuart Shaw was forty-five, slim, fit, and handsome. Barring accidents, it would be a long time before Lyle became a landowner. They had both been in the house many times before, but Maura took them up to her bedroom so that they could see her wedding gown. Davina let out a long sigh of pure pleasure when she saw it.

  It was made of gold silk, and the sweetheart neckline was embroidered with tiny scarlet roses. The long sleeves draped from the elbow to the ground, and there was a wide scarlet sash that cinched the dress in at Maura's still-slender waist. The wedding was still a week away and Maura hoped that her pregnancy would not start to show before then. It would be a tragedy if she had to let out the laces at the back of the dress. Wedding guests, especially women, were always on the lookout for the tell-tale signs of a hasty marriage.

  "Oh, it's gorgeous!" Davina breathed. "Can you try it on for us?"

  "Of course!" Maura laughed, delighted but cursed inwardly. What if they noticed anything? She knew her stomach was still quite flat but what if the first tiny bulge gave her away?

  Una noticed her hesitation and mistook it for modesty. "Maura, we will leave you to the tender mercies of your maid and wait for you downstairs." She took Davina's hand and led them outside and back down to the breakfast room.

  "Lovely house," Davina murmured as she walked around, looking at little silver ornaments, carvings, and paintings of hunting scenes and village life. Someone in the house, she imagined Lorina, had exquisite taste. Her attention was suddenly drawn by Maura coming down the stairs. Davina and her mother both gasped.

  "I have never seen anything so beautiful!" Una said, sighing in rapture. "Maura, who made this for you?"

  "Grant had it made," she replied, "he bought the material but refuses to look at the dress before the wedding day. He says it is bad luck or some such. He is so superstitious. A very talented lady from Inverness made it." Standing tall and straight in her golden gown, Maura looked like a classical statue.

  "What are you wearing with it?" Una asked.

  "Dark red veil and red shoes, and some sort of red flower if I can," Maura replied. “'Tis a pity it is not autumn. I could wear all the right colors then." She smiled wistfully. "Anyway, I must change. Please help yourself to the food. I will be back presently.” She ran up the stairs again, holding her skirts up, and felt them looking up at her in admiration. She had completely won them over, and now it was only a matter of time.

  The afternoon was a pleasant one. They sipped mulled wine, ate scones with cream and preserves, honey biscuits, and cheese. Maura told them about her castle in Fort Augustus, how it overlooked Loch Ness on the shore where most of the monster sightings were alleged to have taken place.

  "Have you ever seen it?" Davina asked, smiling mischievously.

  Maura's face took on a mock-grave look. "Indeed I have," she said with wide eyes. "Many times. It nearly ate me once, in fact."

  Una and Davina giggled.

  "It's true!" Maura protested indignantly, trying not to laugh. "You see this scar?" She showed them a white livid mark on the back of her hand about two inches long. "That is the mark of one of its teeth! I managed to get away just in time. It nearly bit my hand off." She shuddered. She looked so serious that for a moment or two Una and Davina half-believed her.

  "Why did you not call out for Shona McGregor, then?" Una asked, frowning. "I hear that she does monster rescues free of charge!"

  Maura flapped a hand at her. "She is always so busy!" she complained, "looking after all those children of hers, and it's said that she and the Lovely Lachlan cannot keep their hands to themselves, hence all the bairns!"

  "Ah! The legend of the Lovely Lachlan and the Beautiful Shona." Davina sighed. "I have met her. She is lovely although she does look as if she is devouring him with her eyes every time she looks at him!"

  "Yes, I have heard that," Maura agreed, "but I have never met her. Is she as beautiful as they say?"

  "She is," Davina's tone was deeply envious. "I am sure someone has written a poem or a song about her. Anyway, enough of them. Why are you not getting married in our chapel?"

  Maura looked abashed. "Grant was too shy to ask," she replied, "he did not want to inconvenience you."

  "Inconvenience us?" Una's voice was incredulous. "What rubbish! We're family!"

  "And under the circumstances, it does not seem quite right," Maura went on, "you are still in mourning, milady. Of course, that could not be foreseen, but in the end, it was fortuitous."

  "I think Maura has a point, Mother," Davina said, "if Father had not died we could have had the wedding in our chapel, but everything has changed now."

  "Indeed." Una sounded as if she was about to break down, but she wiped her eyes and pulled herself together, smiling at them. "Do not mind me," she said as she was scrubbing her face with a handkerchief. "It will take time."

  Maura leaned over and patted her hand. "Indeed it will," she said kindly.

  Davina looked into the gathering gloom outside. "Time we were on our way," she observed, "it will be cold tonight."

  "Thank you for showing us your dress, my dear." Una smiled. "And for a lovely afternoon. We must do it more often, next time at our home."

  Maura treated them to a glorious smile but watched them thoughtfully as they walked their horses out of the gate. She ran her hand across her stomach. There was not even a hint of a bulge there yet, even though she had missed two of her monthly fluxes. In truth, she was sure of a pregnancy, but even if it turned out to be a false alarm she could tell him that she had had a miscarriage. She was very good at faking tears.

  "I have just remembered something," Una said as she climbed into bed with her daughter that night.

  "What?" Davina asked drowsily, closing her eyes and yawning.

  "Athol said he wanted a warm lady to share his bed with," Una informed her.

  Davina opened her eyes and stared at her mother. "And how does this concern me?" she asked. "I hope you are not trying to matchmake, Mother!"

  "It does not concern you," Una said and shrugged. "I thought it was interesting since I used to have a warm man. It is lovely to have someone to hold, isn't it? Even if it's only your mother or your daughter."

  Davina stroked Una's hair back from her face. "At least our bed is not empty, like Athol's," she reminded her, "goodnight, Mother."

  60

  Maura's Wedding

  Davina had known from the start that breeding horses would be a long-term process. She bought five more mares and one more stallion and soo
n had five happy and healthy pregnant mares in the paddock. "Will it be safe to leave the stallions with the foals?" Davina asked Mungo one day. "Should we separate them when they're born?"

  Mungo looked at her somewhat pityingly. "Naw, Mistress," he replied, "the boys will only fight when the girls are in season, an' she willnae let him near her until she's ready. The girls aye knaw whit's whit, just like human beings. When the babies are born the daddies is very protective."

  Davina laughed. She was beginning to like Mungo more and more. Just then, Una came into the stables. Davina saw Mungo's eyes widening and wished that the world was not so unfair. They would have made a beautiful couple, but of course, the time was not right, and she could never imagine anyone taking her father's place. Apart from that, a groom and a lady would never be tolerated in polite society unless their names were Shona and Lachlan McGregor. They seemed to have broken all the rules and gotten away with it. For everyone else it simply wasn't done and, although the Andersons were not slaves to convention, there were some lines that could not be crossed.

  Una smiled politely at Mungo and wished him good morning before turning to her own horse, Bettie. She was going riding with one of her friends, and Davina took this to be a good sign. She was becoming interested in the world again.

  "What a grand lady," Mungo observed as they watched her riding out of the paddock. "Very brave." His blue eyes gleamed with appreciation, but he hastily looked away as he saw Davina watching him.

  "She is," Davina sighed, "and very angry."

  Lorina Shaw was a meticulous housekeeper. She hated anything to be out of place and the thought of dirt anywhere in her spotlessly clean domain was the stuff of nightmares. So, when she went into her breakfast room and smelled garlic, she looked around, puzzled, then sniffed the room like a bloodhound, looking for the offensive odor.