Legend of a Highland Lass: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Sean,” his wife called out again. “Sean…SEAN!”

  Rose watched as Sean shot up from his cot, his arms waving madly and causing her to shudder for a brief moment as he awoke violently from his slumber in the center of the fields they were occupying. He was doused with sweat, his sinewy body coated in a layer of perspiration as his manic eyes looked around frantically.

  What do I say? Rose pondered. The man looks mad. What in the heavens was he dreaming about?

  Rose watched as Sean took a moment to gather his bearings. He raised up his hand, slicking his hair back with his fingers as he slowed his breathing and clasped a hand at his chest.

  “Wanderer,” Rose said. “Are ye alright?”

  Sean didn’t answer for a long while, sitting up and still slowing the tempo of his breathing. He reached over, grabbing his tunic and dabbing at the sweat that had accumulated on his body. “I’m fine,” he finally said. “Just a bad dream is all.”

  Rose couldn’t help herself from looking at the toned and rippling quality of Sean’s body. It was hard not to note how hardened and firm he was, at how well he had taken care of himself, at how the years of relentless struggle and finely tuned skills with a sword had shaped and formed him into the bulging mass of human that he currently was. The scars that were peppered throughout looked like lines on a map, each one undoubtedly holding a story that boded of violence and hardship. Stop it, she thought. Such trivial things to focus on. Aye, he is a sight to look at—but so what? He is just a man. There are plenty of others who looks just like him.

  Trying to steer the subject in a different direction for sake of diverting her attention, Rose jutted her chin at Sean’s tunic and said: “Ye have soiled your shirt,” she said. “Do you have another?”

  Sean shook his head. “I travel light,” he replied. “But I will air this out. It is my concern. Ye need not trouble yourself.”

  Rose stood up. “I will speak to Brandon. He is near the same size as you. Perhaps he has something ye can wear.”

  Sean waved his hand dismissively. “Your friend is not the biggest ally of mine at the moment. If he had it his way, he would bury a sword in my belly. I think that loaning me is clothing is quite out of the question.”

  Rose flashed the subtlest of smirks. “Brandon answers to me,” she said confidently. “If I ask for a shirt, he will give me a shirt.”

  Sean said nothing, looking away as he rubbed the tension out of his neck. Rose was curious as she watched his gaze dart from left-to-right, Sean clearly still trying to shake off whatever nightmare he had experienced. Rose knew it had to be potent, so vivid and unimaginable to cause a man of his caliber to tremble and sweat as much as he was.

  “What was it?” Rose asked.

  Sean leveled his gaze at Rose and squinted. “What was what?”

  “The dream you had. Ye said you had a bad dream.”

  Sean clenched his jaw, his eyes ablaze. “It does not matter.”

  “Clearly it disturbs ye.”

  Sean sighed, dabbing the last of the sweat that had gathered on his torso before tossing his tunic to the ground. “Ye ask too many questions,” he said. “I thought we agreed to keep our situation to services rendered.”

  “Aye. But you understand if the man that I have hired to navigate our way through tumultuous terrain, a man who is one of the most feared warriors in all of the Highlands, trembles as he does from nothing more than a mere nightmare.”

  Sean looked at Rose unblinkingly, drawing in a deep breath as he stood up and put on a forceful display of confidence. “We will not discuss this any further,” he said. “I had a bad dream. Nothing more.”

  Rose heard the uncompromising tone in Sean’s voice, his unwillingness to speak on the matter seeping through him like sap off of a tree. Shaking her head, Rose turned away and said: “So be it,” before leaving Sean to his own devices and going about fetching a fresh tunic for him to clad his rippling and stone-like body.

  Rose drew a breath as lingered away from the area where Sean was resting, coming to the edge of the forest away from the camp and the rest of the Scots as they set about making a morning meal consistent of stew and some hardened bread. The aroma was thick in the air, and for a moment she was concerned that whoever—or whatever—was lingering out in the woods would pick up on the scent.

  Rose released the breath, the early morning chill licking at her skin and causing it to go goosey. She rubbed her palms on her arms, warming herself up as Kelly, with a bowl of stew in hand, approached her from behind and offered it out.

  “Here,” Kelly said. “It’s not great, but it should do the job just fine. Brandon keeps cutting the potatoes too thick.”

  Rose held up her hand. “I’m alright. I’m not that hungry.”

  “Come. Ye have to eat.”

  Rose reluctantly took the bowl from Kelly and took small mouthfuls, both of them turning their heads up toward the trees above as the sounds of a birds chirping began to fill the air. Rose looked around for the source of the chirping and saw a mother bird tending to three freshly hatched chicks bobbing their heads up and down in anticipation of their own morning meal.

  “Quite a sight,” Kelly said. “Even in the midst of madness, life still continues to bloom in the Highlands.”

  Rose, hearing the comment but somewhat distracted by the occasional glimpse she took at Sean over her shoulder, continued to eat. Rose caught on as Kelly gave her a sideways look, smirking as she did so and kicking at the ground with the heel of her boot.

  “Don’t,” Rose said.

  Kelly laughed. “Don’t what?”

  “Say what ye are going to say.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  Rose shook her head. “Ye didn’t need to. I have known you long enough to know when ye are about to make a comment I don’t want to hear.”

  Kelly nodded over her shoulder in Sean’s direction. “He is quite a sight to see,” she said. “I don’t blame ye for looking at the man the way ye do.”

  “I look at him with suspicion,” Rose said, trying to sound as dismissive as possible.

  “Ah,” Kelly replied, crossing her arms and squaring off. “That is the only reason?”

  “It’s the only reason.”

  “So ye do not fancy him?”

  Rose turned and faced Kelly, handing her back the bowl of stew. “We are not having this conversation.”

  “Oh, come on now, Rose. I have known ye for years. There is nothing wrong with taking pleasure in a man’s company.”

  “It’s the furthest thing from my mind at the moment.”

  Kelly’s eyes went wide, the whites of them showing with an incredulous gaze. “Really? Then why are ye staring at his chest in the way ye are?”

  Rose threw her hands in the air and walked around Kelly, making a beeline back for the camp and preparing to give the orders to move out. “This is silly,” she said. “We need to focus on the task at hand. I can’t waste time with such frivolous conversations.”

  “Oh, come now,” Kelly said, following after Rose as she overturned the bowl and dumped the contents of stew on the ground. “Ye are a woman, he is a man. I bet that if ye propositioned him, he would not turn ye away. It might relieve some of the, how do I phrase it, tension that ye are experiencing.”

  “I am not tense.”

  “Clearly.”

  Rose stopped in her tracks, spinning on her heel before gripping onto Kelly’s arm, a looseness in her grip but still conveying a bit of authority in the way she squeezed. “Listen,” she said, lowering her voice so the others wouldn’t hear, “I don’t have time for this. We don’t have time for this. We’re running from the King’s men. We killed his nephew. We are closer to danger now than we ever have before. I’m focused on our survival, not some…rough-faced Highlander or his torso.”

  “I understand,” Kelly said. “And I am not making light of the situation. There’s a reason that I bring it up, is all.”

  Rose squinted. “And why is tha
t?”

  “Because it concerns me. It truly does. I’ve known ye for as long as I can remember. Ye have never strayed off course. Ye have never become distracted, and ever since the Wanderer showed up, I’ve found ye tossing him a glimmer on more than one occasion. I make light of it only because I don’t want to upset ye by saying what I just said. But there—I said it. I’m worried. I’m concerned yer attention is being captivated by that man, and I don’t want that to put any of us in jeopardy.”

  Rose’s mouth opened, but the words didn’t come right away. She was shocked, her heart skipping a beat upon hearing Kelly’s statement. Is it true? she thought. Has my focus truly wavered as Kelly is saying? If it’s true, I can’t allow that to happen. My people depend on me. I need to keep my wits about me while we navigate our way through this.

  Rose stood tall, looking at Kelly with a confidant stare and holding her head high. “Ye don’t need to worry about me,” she said. “As I said: I don’t have time for frivolous distractions. My concerns lay with our people and our people alone. I’m more concerned about the Wanderer going back on his deal than I am laying with him. I’m more inclined to bury a blade in his belly at the moment. Ye have nothing to worry about, Kelly. And that’s the last we’re going to speak on the matter.”

  Rose walked away, Kelly staying put as she watched her leader, her friend, turn her back on her and walk away. But as Rose walked away and being telling the group to break camp and prepare to set out—she knew that part of her was lying that she wasn’t finding her mind wander to thoughts of Sean every once in a while.

  As the camp was in the midst of breaking down, Sean, having acquired a fresh tunic, rambled up to Rose and nodded his greetings. “We’re continue the same path from here,” he said, “to the east. There’s a village about a half day’s ride from here. Ye should send some a few of yer fastest riders ahead of us right now to set about securing more supplies for our journey and wait for us to catch up so no time is wasted.”

  Rose nodded, turning her head and whistling at Brandon. Brandon hustled over, standing at attention just after throwing yet another distrusting look in Sean’s direction.

  “Brandon,” Rose said, “I need ye to take Lachlan and Eamon and ride ahead of us.”

  Brandon crossed his arms. “Where are we going?”

  “To a village about a half-day’s ride from here. We need supplies. You three are the fastest. By the time we catch up with ye at our normal pace, we’ll be able to ride out and cut down on the time.”

  “It’s done. We’ll ride out now.”

  Brandon turned away and set out to find Lachlan and Eamon—but not before looking at Sean suspiciously just for the sake of getting under his skin.

  “Don’t think he likes me much,” Sean said with a flat tone.

  “Tell me,” Rose said, “how far out are we from our final destination?”

  “I told you: a week, maybe slightly more.”

  “I just know that there are Redcoats to the east. There’s a castle belonging to a Lord Brumwald not far from here.”

  “Aye. I’m aware.”

  Rose took a step forward, straightening her back and cocking her head suspiciously at Sean. “I thought the point,” she said, “was to get us as far away from the Redcoats as possible, and yet, yer not only marching us straight towards them, but yer taking us to a place where one of the most brutal Redcoat Lords resides.”

  “I never said we wouldn’t have to potential cross paths with some,” Sean said. “It’s unavoidable. They’re everywhere.”

  “Ye have heard the stories of Lord Brumwald, aye? Torture? Killing of innocents?”

  “Again, I have.”

  “Then ye understand my concerns…”

  Brandon, on horseback with Lachlan and Eamon now, slapped the reins on his horse and ran hard and fast away from the camp. The thunderous cacophony of the hoofbeats of the three collective horses causing Sean and Rose to momentarily divert their attention.

  Sean puffed his chest, squinting at Rose as Brandon and the other two riders rode off into the distance, the hoofbeats now a dull roar that faded into nothingness. “This is the only way we can go,” he said. “I’m taking us in a direction that will take us through the backwoods surrounding the castle. There’s concealment in the trees there. If we ride quiet, we should be fine.”

  Rose smirked. “And if Lord Brumwald’s scouts are wandering around there? What then?”

  Sean moved around Rose, ready to saddle up on his horse and begin the ride. “Then we’ll handle them,” he said as he brought an end to the conversation.

  Rose waited where she stood for a moment as Sean walked away. She was nervous, but at the same time still finding herself experiencing this tugging sensation at the more vulnerable parts of her, the one of a human being that found the desire with certain people to just…hold them, feel them, coil around them.

  It hadn’t happened in quite some time for Rose. She was never one to focus on anything else but her and her people. But it had happened before, once when she was younger, the other with one of the Scots who perished over three years ago. But not like this. Not like with Sean. It felt more primal, urgent, within an arm’s reach and driving her somewhat mad. But Rose wasn’t going to indulge it. She didn’t need to.

  But she was starting to see that she wanted to.

  Chapter Nine

  Brandon, Lachlan, and Eamon arrived outside the village in just under two hours from their departure from the camp. The entire village was made up of brick and wood structures, the seasons having added a mossy patina to the buildings and cottages arranged in a circle around a giant well that offered an abundance of water. It was almost as if the surrounding domiciles, the stable, the blacksmith shop, and the tavern where like a fence around the well, as if its value was so meaningful that the buildings where the townsfolk resided was acting as a fence.

  Brandon, at the head of the group, came to the towering and spiked gate made of vertical standing logs wedged between the tavern and what appeared to be a living quarters standing three stories high. Waiting casually off to the side were two Highlanders, one big, one slim. As Brandon and his two Scots came to a settle a few feet away, they slowly strode up to Brandon and his Scots with their palms resting on the grips of their swords, ready to go about making the exchange peaceful but violent if need be.

  “What do you want?” the Highlander on the right with the fiery beard inclined.

  Brandon nodded toward the gate. “Just looking to get food and supplies.”

  The Highlander on the left, lanky and with an avian-like nose, said: “Ye bringing any trouble with ye?”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “If yers pertains to the Redcoats, then ye’ll have to move along. The bastards have a stranglehold on an area not far from here. A Lord Brumwald. Vile fool. His men come here often. We cannot put up a fight and they tend to leave us be, but we’d prefer if we kept as many away from here, as much as possible, at least.”

  “Aye,” the redheaded guard said. “So if ye have any Redcoat trouble yer bringing with ye—it’s better if ye just move along.”

  Brandon shook his head, prepared to lie. “We don’t bring that kind of trouble with us. We just need supplies, maybe a meal and an ale to go with it.”

  The two Highlander guards took a moment, their squinted expressions indicating clearly that they were weighing their final decision, looking at each of the Highlander riders in front of them before finally giving a nod of approval.

  The one on the right opened the gate, gesturing Brandon, Lachlan, and Eamon inside. Brandon and the two others slipped into the village, and the guards closed it before barring it shut with a large wooden log and set about standing in the same position they were before they approached Brandon.

  Brandon looked overhead as they trotted into the center of the village, the clouds thick and lingering and blocking out the sun. A gray mist hung in the air, capping the trees that surrounded the village. Brandon closed his eyes fo
r a moment, taking the opportunity to clear his mind as he led his men to the tavern off to their left.

  Brandon dismounted his horse and handed the reins to Lachlan. “Stable the horses,” he said. “I’ll take a look around and make sure that we’re okay.”

  Lachlan nodded dutifully and weaved his way around a group of women, Eamon following close beside him as Brandon mounted cobblestone steps that led to a dark tavern lit only by the flickering glow of lanterns, the tinted windows made of a green-tinted glass cutting out the light. It was a place where people did not want to see sunlight, a place where it was easier to not know the time of day and just drink away whatever worries were lingering just outside the tavern.