Highlander 0f The Woods (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance)

by Alisa Adams

  It was beautifully styled, with a deep but modest V-neck, and a bodice that fitted tightly down to her hips then flared out by means of contrasting pale gray godets in the skirt. A gray satin sash fitted around her slender waist and tied in an enormous bow at the back. The sleeves were long and flared out in a dramatic bell shape.

  When she was dressed, Vanora stood still while Mistress McDade and Millie walked around her, ooh-ing and aah-ing in admiration.

  “I knew ye wid look like this, mistress!” Millie wiped an eye from which a little tear had escaped.

  Just then, Ella and Marion came in, and their expressions assumed identical expressions of admiration. “My beautiful sister,” Marion whispered as she kissed Vanora. “You look lovely, but now it is time to let Rory see you. He will be so happy!”

  “I am so nervous!” Vanora gave a shaky laugh.

  “So was I on my weddin’ day, mistress,'' Millie laughed, wiping her eyes. “So is everybody. We were a’ brides once. Ye will be fine.”

  I hope so, Vanora thought fearfully. She could cope with the wedding; it was the night ahead that worried her.

  Vanora entered the church with Marion on one arm and Ella on the other. They stood back to gaze at her in her wedding finery. “You will still love us, won’t you, Vanora?” Ella asked anxiously. “Even though you love Rory so much?”

  She smiled at them. “I will always be your sister. Of course I will still love you! And my babies will need aunties!” Then she looked into the church where she could see Rory waiting for her. As she watched, he turned around and gave her a great beaming smile, and a surge of love and longing went through her. She tugged her sisters’ arms, and they walked into the church.

  “Look after her,” Marion begged, as she put Vanora’s hand in his. “Please, Rory.”

  “Ye need have no worries on that score, little sister,” he replied softly. “It will be my duty and my pleasure.” Rory smiled as he kissed Vanora’s hand. “Ready my love?”

  “I have been ready for months!” she replied, her silver eyes shining with love.

  They turned to face the priest.

  Father Grant gave them a little conspiratorial smile. He was the only one who shared the secret of their first clandestine wedding.

  “Rory and Vanora,” he said, “you are here to join your lives together today in the presence of your friends and family. Do you both consent of your own free will?”

  “We do!” they chorused, smiling widely at each other.

  “Then you must take your vows,” he told them. “Rory, you first, please, since you are the protector and provider.”

  Rory stood up to his full height, squared his shoulders, and looked down into the face that he loved more than any other in the world.

  “My love,” he began. “We met in the worst possible way, wi’ violence and strife, but we fought through it, and stood strong together at the end. I would travel that troubled road again if I knew ye would be standing here at the end of it looking like the most beautiful creature God ever made. I love ye wi’ a’ my heart an’ with every fiber of my being, and I vow tae dedicate the rest of my life tae making ye happy. Will ye be my wife?”

  “Yes, Rory, I will be your wife,” she replied huskily. “I will follow where you lead and be by your side whenever you need me. I vow to be faithful to you always, and to bear your children proudly and nurture them so that they grow up with the same strength and kindness as their father. I do not know what made you choose me, but I am so glad that you did! Will you be my husband?”

  “Yes!” he replied happily. “Yes, yes, yes!” Then he kissed her passionately in front of the whole congregation. A shocked little gasp went up. This was not usual at all!

  When they drew apart Father Grant was smiling at them both broadly. He shook his head a little and laughed as he went on with the service. After a brief homily in which he spoke about the responsibilities of marriage, he gave them communion and blessed them.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Murdoch,” Rory said as they walked out of the church.

  “Good afternoon, M’laird,” she laughed. “This seems like a dream!”

  Rory’s face was so joyful she could only describe his expression as radiant. He took her hands in his. “Come,” he invited. “Let us go and have a few moments together.”

  Vanora smiled as Rory lifted her onto Davie and they rode along the path towards Rory’s cottage. She had not been back there since the dreadful day that they met, but they had ridden along the path many times, so it no longer held any terrors for her.

  The rolling motion was pleasant and soothing, and Vanora remembered the days when she and her father used to ride into the hills above Gairloch and look out to sea. Those had been golden times. She still missed him and wished with all her heart that he could have been at the wedding, but now she could look back with fondness and not the bitterness she had felt before, and she knew that it was all due to this gentle giant of a man who was riding with her.

  Now, to her surprise, Rory turned off the path and climbed the hill towards the cottage, where they stopped for a moment. Rory had gifted the woodcutting business and the house to Iain, but since he was a guest at the wedding, it was empty at that moment. However, when they went inside nothing had changed. The carved statues were still there, and Rory’s enormous bed stood in the corner. The deerskin still lay on the floor in front of the fire, and all the tables and chairs that he had fashioned with his own hands.

  “Do you miss it?” Vanora asked gently.

  “Sometimes,” he replied, with a little smile. “But I would call anywhere hame as long as ye were there, Vanora.”

  She laid her head against his chest again and his arms came around her, then he rested his cheek on her hair, making a nest of his body for her to snuggle into. She sighed with contentment.

  “We must go back,” Rory said sadly.

  “I suppose so, although I would rather stay here with you.” Her voice sounded regretful. “But you are right.”

  For one more precious moment they clung together, then they mounted Davie and set off to home, but Vanora could not resist a last look back at the little home in the woods that would always be so special to her.

  When they arrived back at the castle, Rory helped her dismount in the same way he had put her on the horse, by lifting her around the waist. However, this time he hoisted her over his shoulder so that she squealed with laughter.

  “Ye must remember who is the master now!” he laughed.

  “We shall see about that!” she warned and began to beat his back with her fists. “Now put me down!”

  “Yes, milady,” he sighed, “but we have a party tae go to. We will no’ stay long.” He smiled. “I cannot wait tae have ye in my arms again.”

  Vanora shivered at the delicious thought of being with Rory again. “And I cannot wait to be in them.”

  They did their duty, and they both endured the reception until dusk had almost turned to night. By that time many of the guests had left on horseback and those who could not sit upright in the saddle were being taken in carriages.

  Vanora went upstairs hand in hand with her new husband and as they got to the bedroom door he smiled at her, then lifted her off her feet and into his arms. She squealed at the sudden jolt, but when he laid her on the bed it was with infinite tenderness.

  “Would ye like some wine?” he whispered as he traced a path down the side of her neck with his lips.

  “Yes please,” she said huskily. She had drunk two already, and was feeling a trifle lightheaded, but it was a deliciously wanton feeling, especially now that she was here with her beautiful husband.

  Rory sat down on the bed and she put her head in his lap. “Ye can do anything ye want with me, Vanora,” he said tenderly. “I am completely in yer power. That is how much I love ye.”

  She looked up into his soft brown eyes, now dark with desire, and saw that he meant what he said. They kissed and drank the wine, then made love tenderly and lay in each othe
r’s arms for a long time, content to do nothing but listen to their breathing. Vanora heard the strong, steady thump of Rory’s heart under her ear, and felt proud that such a mighty heart was hers to command. Rory had told her so, and she believed in him and trusted him with her life.

  Rory felt as though he was going to burst with joy. He had never thought that he could love any woman as much as he had loved Elisaid, but God had seen fit to grant him that blessing twice in one lifetime. He wondered if she was happy for him. Vanora had gone to sleep, nestled in his embrace, and he was just about to do the same when he heard her soft, sweet voice.

  Of course I am happy for you, my love. Elisaid spoke to him as clearly as if she was standing in the room. And you have my blessing always.

  “Thank you, my angel,” he whispered. Then he gathered Vanora more closely against him and went to sleep, smiling.

  *eejit = idiot, imbecile.

  Thank you for reading my story!

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  Also before you go, turn the page to read the amazing story of Steel and Neely!

  Prologue

  The night was alive with drenching, biting rain and winds that slashed and ripped at the men’s kilts as they rolled barrels across the sandy beach. A sudden sharp, reverberating crack of lightning lit up the single, jagged, black turret of what was left of the crumbling and burnt tower of Brough Castle above them on the rocks. Another crack of lightning ripped through the sky. Its eerily bright light illuminating a white sheet that hung, wet and limp, high up on the very top of the broken and charred turret. That tower was all that was left of the once proud castle which sat on the rocks of the cliff, just out of reach above the worst of the sea’s stormy waves.

  The white sheet was a signal to the darkened and waiting ship anchored out beyond the waves. A signal that there was a shipment of illegally distilled Highland whisky ready to be picked up.

  For the only people that now roamed about Brough Castle, its lands, and the caves that riddled the sea cliffs—were smugglers.

  The men moved furtively, rolling the heavy whisky barrels through the wet sand to the small boats waiting on the shore. The white-capped waves crashed into their legs, threatening to sweep them and the precious barrels out into the angry sea.

  It had to be done in the darkness and secrecy of the night, for the revenue men were always looking for the illegal stills of Highland whisky, and Gilbert Eunson had been eluding them for several months.

  Gilbert was out of breath as he bent over, pushing the last heavy and ungainly barrel across the sand. He was wet all the way through his clothes to his skin, and he had sand in unmentionable places that made him itchy and irritable.

  A pair of boots blocked the path of his rolling barrel. Gilbert looked up from the boots to the person wearing them. He groaned inwardly.

  “Walter Waddle git oot of me way!” he said testily as he swiped at his grey hair, which was dripping wet.

  “I want to know if this load will finally be the one to git us paid Gillie?” Waddle demanded as the rain dripped off his pronounced eyebrows and rolled down his long, crooked nose.

  “Ye’ve been paid for yer work!” Gilbert said angrily.

  “It is not enough! We want more,” Waddle complained.

  “It’ll come Waddle, word has to be got oot carefully aboot the new goods we offer,” Gilbert argued in frustration, “and these new folks need to taste our whisky to see how fine it is.”

  “Aye, ye been saying that fer months noo, but the men want more money,” Waddle insisted.

  “Tell them to take some of the dried beef or mutton from the caves for their families, as they have before,” Gilbert said loudly.

  “They dinnae want to take meat from the cows and sheep we took from those villages. The whisky though, we all have a hand in the making of,” Waddle said in a sullen voice. “We want to sell some of our own, where we want to sell it! Dinnae forget, we have given up quite a lot for this scheme of yours!”

  “Dinnae ye think I know this?” Gilbert said quietly. “I lost me own daughter. Me beautiful Neely had to escape Brough Castle with Lady Swan and those six orphan children.”

  “Aye, and ye left her there with no choice but to run, what with the castle and village being attacked by those soldiers!” Waddle said accusingly.

  “What would ye have had us do? Ye know they were looking for our whisky! We’d have been jailed and hung. Or worse, drawn and quartered if found!”

  Waddle stared at the older man who stood before him on the beach. His idea had sounded so good at the time. A way to make money for the men of the villages who were struggling to put food on their families’ tables. To smuggle whisky wherever the people were ready to pay a high price for such hard-to-get goods like whisky, beef, and mutton. Now Gillie had decided it was much safer to go north to the Orkney Islands instead of smuggling their whisky south into the Lowlands and England itself. They had run the risk of having to pay the penalizing high taxes set on whisky, much less risk being found out for running an illegal still. To be captured would mean being sent to the Tolbooth gaol in Edinburgh for sure, and from there to the gallows.

  “What mon leaves his own daughter in the middle of a battle? Do ye even know where she is now Gilbert Eunson?” Waddle demanded of Gilbert. The rain was dripping down his nose and onto his lips. With every word he sprayed droplets of rain and spittle that ran down his rounded chin.

  Gilbert looked away from Waddle. He stared out to sea and the waiting ship that sat anchored, bobbing in the waves. The men aboard were eager to receive the whisky and sides of salted beef and mutton that had dried in the salty sea air that blew steadily into the caves where they had been hidden and hung to dry.

  “Och, nay, I dinnae know where me Neely is,” Gilbert admitted dismally.

  He bent back over the barrel and shouldered Waddle out of the way as he pushed the last barrel to the waiting boats.

  He was a smuggler now, a thief. His daughter Neely wouldn’t care if he was dead or alive.

  Better off to be thought dead than have your daughter find out what you have become, Gilbert thought.

  Chapter 1

  Neely Eunson sat on the stone wall in a patch of warm sunshine. The rain had finally stopped. It was quite the storm last night, she thought. The lightning had lit up the beautiful turrets of Castle McKay with their colorful flags flying high atop each of them. She had sat up all night, watching the storm.

  And thinking about her father.

  Where is he? Is he even alive? she thought, just as she had for the last six weeks since she had left the devastation wrought by the third and final battle at Castle Brough, her home.

  The soldiers had destroyed everything.

  And her father had fled.

  He had deserted her.

  She could not understand why he had not taken her.

  She had had no choice, as she had hidden during that last attack with the lady of the castle, Lady Swannoc McKinnon, as well as Kaithria, the young woman that had shown up many months ago with some displaced orphans. Kaithria had stated she was looking for a safe place for the children, and Lady Swan had welcomed them to Brough, offering them safety and a peaceful place to live.

  For it was a peaceful place, with the castle sitting on the very end of the Dunnet Head peninsula, the most northern part of the Caithness Highlands. In truth, Brough was the most northern part of all of Scotland. They were isolated there, with only a small village, the castle, and the sea.

  They had thought they were safe from the evils of the Clearances. But still, the Clearances had come to
Brough in devastating waves. The first attack was when her father had fled. Then a second attack which had wiped out almost the entire village and castle. Finally, and most devastatingly, the third attack.

  Neely, Lady Swan McKinnon, the six orphan children, Kaithria, and the old horsemaster named Beak had hidden deep in a cave amongst the sea cliffs. After the attack they came out to find only a few cottages were left and fit to live in. The rest were still smoking and in ashes. Food was scarce and the villagers that had managed to escape never returned. Days later, they knew they must leave as nothing was left for them in the ruins that was Brough. It had also been overheard that the soldiers had been looking for an orphan boy that was reputed to be Bonnie Prince Charlie's son.

  They had come upon two Highland warriors and their horses stuck in the peat bog on their travel away from Castle Brough. One of the warriors turned out to be Laird Wolfram McKay. He was on a mission for the king of England to find the king’s illegitimate son, who had been sent to an orphanage. It was thought he had ended up in Brough. It had been a grand adventure that ended in marriage for Lady Swan and Laird Wolf McKay. The great laird had to choose between his duty to his king or his love for Swan and the children.

  Whether one of the little orphan boys was the king of England’s or Bonnie Prince Charlie’s, also called the Pretender to the throne of Scotland, both Wolf and Swan knew the boy would be used as a weapon between the two warring men. And very likely the little boy would die.

  Instead, Wolf adopted them, writing a missive to the king that the boy would be kept safe within his clan. Never saying that he doubted if the boy was the king’s or the Pretender’s.

  Lady Swan and Laird Wolf had offered Neely and Kaithria a home within Clan McKay. The six orphan children were now part of Swan and Wolf’s family, and they extended that to Neely and Kaithria as well.