Highlander’s Sinister Bet: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance

by Fiona Faris

  She walked away and left him standing beside his horse.

  Chapter Eight

  He was mad; he knew it too. He had to be, he told himself as he walked to answer his father’s summons. That was the only reason he would be going through with this madness. Had he allowed Lorraine to get under his skin so much that he would approach her even when she had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him? He knew that he had one chance left – a grand gesture that would help him prove to her that he was indeed sorry. For the umpteenth time, he cursed himself for speaking too plainly with Glenn.

  When she looked at him, her eyes were dead. He missed the laughter in them. Why was she so intent on not forgiving him? She wouldn’t even hear him out. How was the bet supposed to proceed? It would be less of a punishment to yield to Glenn than to live with her anger. He didn’t understand it. When he was angry, he burned hot. His anger was hot, raw, and harsh. It was what he knew anger to be. Lorraine’s was different. Her anger was cold – it was colder than the lake in the winter and just like the ice, it was deadly if one stayed too long in it. He had to get her forgiveness no matter the cost.

  He walked to his father’s office and knocked at the door. He wondered if his father had called him about the parade that would happen the next day. He hadn’t forgotten that he and not his father would be leading the men.

  “Enter,” the voice came.

  He did as his father said and sat in his usual chair. His father reached for the cup of ale on the table and drank a mouthful. No sooner had he finished than a messenger knocked on the door. Setting his cup aside, his father asked the man to come in.

  He stepped in quietly and placed a scroll on the table before leaving.

  “What is this about, Father?” he asked.

  The old man said nothing but studied his son. After an uncomfortable silence, he spoke. “’Tis a message from the McClain. He says that ’twould be a thing of pride to give ye his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Daividh was sure he hadn’t heard right. “It says what?” He arched a brow portraying absolute disbelief.

  His father ignored him and read on. “He says he’d be even more honored to seal an alliance as an assurance of protection for our people,” the old man said pointedly. His eyes were as grey as his son’s but held a certain darkness to them.

  Unflustered, Daividh returned his piercing gaze. His clan came above anything and he would give up anything. However, an alliance was not necessary. He hoped his father knew that. He knew that if his father did not, he would seal the alliance and would not apologize for putting his people first.

  “The clan comes first,” Laird MacDougall said simply. He was never one to tell a lie. “And that is why I have accepted this proposal even without informing you. I have heard of the McClain’s daughter. She is a meek one, that one.” MacDougall poured generously into his cup of ale, refilling it. There was something Daividh didn’t recognize in his voice. “I had decided long before this that ye would have a say in who ye would wed. However, as ye can see, ’tis a matter of importance. They want this alliance badly. ’Tis probably the reason for the petty attacks.”

  Daividh remained quiet. He thought over his words carefully. It would not do to plainly say that he could barely believe his father was following that train of thought. Would they be bullied into an alliance? He had no time for women, especially not when Lorraine still hated his guts. What would she think of him when the news broke of his betrothal? It would seal her belief that he was a terrible person.

  “Father?” Daividh said once he had taken a pause.

  “Aye?”

  “Ye ken that I would never go against yer word. But accepting such an offer is a slap on the face of our clan. Are we to be bullied into an alliance? If truly they are behind the attacks, are they the people we want to unite our clan with? We fight for honor, honorably. Ye taught me this. Will I now take a wife from those who seek tae kill me? Is that the blood we want running in the veins of the Laird that will succeed me?”

  “Ye dae nae fear the attacks?”

  “Fear?” Daividh laughed and rose to his full height, placing his hand at the head of his sword. “I fear the man who is man enough to face me. Nae a man who results to childish tricks. We do nae ken if the McClain are behind the attacks but if they are, we will crush them and not unite with them.”

  “But ’tis simpler this way, my son.”

  “The way of the coward is simple; the simple road to the unmarked grave.”

  The laird of the MacDougall clan stared his son in the eyes, so full of pride that he could barely contain it.

  He reached to the table and picked up the letter. Then he handed it to his son.

  Daividh collected it, stared at it to read, then back at his father with confusion in his eyes. “’Tis blank.”

  “Aye.” He reached for his drink. “I am an old man and it will be me time soon. Ye will have tae lead the people. I had tae ken for sure the man I had raised, the man I am leaving behind to rule the clan. Ye have nae disappointed me, me son.”

  In a shocked daze, Daividh took a seat. The old man had set it all up.

  “In ye I take great pride. Remember forever as ye have remembered today: The way of the coward is simple; the simple road to the unmarked grave.”

  “Aye, Father.” The words of praise from his father were rare ones. He took them to heart.

  “How are preparations going for tomorrow?”

  “We leave to camp at the gates before dawn. The soldiers ken what tae do.”

  “Yer ma has been overseeing the preparations of the food and drink. We will make merry.”

  “Aye, Father.”

  “Ye may leave. And I will nae mind a bride of yer choosing. Great men are greater with their women by their sides.”

  Daividh heard him but decided that he had spoken enough about wives for the day. “Good night, Father.”

  Glenn chuckled robustly. “I am surprised she didn’t fly at you,” he said.

  “No,” Daividh said with the shake of his head, “She would nae. For all of her anger, she is nae the type to cause pain. Her attacks do nae go past words and even then, she is never demeaning.”

  Glenn nodded to himself. “So now what? Ye could give in and save yerself this trouble.”

  “Nay,” he shook his head, “even if I did give up, I would need tae beg her pardon. I have several weeks left. ’Tis nae over. Nae in the least.”

  “Hmm, I see. How about the brother?”

  “I spoke tae him. He is in.”

  “Can we trust him?”

  “I didnae just pick him based on Lorraine. I hope ye ken this. I made inquiries about their family. Theirs is one famed for loyalty and honesty. I believe we can trust him.”

  Relieved, Glenn smiled. “Are ye prepared for tomorrow?”

  “There is nae much tae prepare for, ye ken. ’Tis for me to ride my horse through the midst of our people. The real preparation lies with our singers and music makers.”

  Glenn agreed.

  “How about ye?” Daividh asked.

  “Me?”

  “Aye. Ready for the day? Ye shall ride beside me. Ye ken this?”

  “Aye,” Glenn smiled, “how could I forget?”

  Daividh stood up and gave a small stretch. “Tomorrow then, Brother.” He outstretched his hand in his usual manner and Glenn clasped it.

  “Tomorrow.”

  When the trumpet sounded, Daividh was ready. Rather than behind him, Glenn sat on his horse beside him. Behind them were the hundreds of soldiers the clan boasted. They were dressed in their armors. Each man sat atop his horse with pride in his eyes. They waited for the signal from their laird.

  The second trumpet sounded and Glenn grinned at Daividh. At the third sound, Daividh reared his horse and started the ride into the gates of the clan. The road to the palace from the gate was cobblestoned, modern, and neat. The path was littered with petals of flowers, bright and fresh. The sounds of the hooves of the hun
dreds of horses were enough to make the ground shake. Daividh was dressed in his full war attire. His armor was polished to shine and his helmet stood tall and proud. Beside him, his sword was sheathed, sharpened and ready for war. On his neck was a celebratory garland that jumped a little as he rode.

  Not long after they rode, they were joined by the musicians of the palace. They were dressed in fancy velvet clothes and were adorned in various jewelries. Some carried flutes, trumpets, cymbals, tambourines, and some clapped their hands. The rest of them belted out lyrics to the clan’s celebratory songs and then to various ballads loved by the clan. They stepped in front of the soldiers who rode very slowly to match their paces. It was a sight to see and soon enough, attention was shifted from the soldiers and bestowed on the pretty ladies who had joined the procession and had begun to dance.

  On each side of the street, men, women, and children stood. They waved flowers, branches, and linen materials as they sang and danced along. The jubilation of the crowd and the slow pace the horses moved gave room for Daividh to converse with Glenn.

  Both men rode companionably, enjoying the sights before them. Seeing his right hand man by his side gave Daividh a sense of accomplishment and pride. Glenn had been with him throughout his life and had fought every battle with him. He deserved a place beside him and not behind.

  Daividh had grown up with Glenn. Glenn’s mother had died soon after bearing him, leaving him at the mercy of his cruel and narcissistic father. His father’s cruel behavior had made Glenn a very angry child. Glenn often spoke about wanting the love of a father as a young boy. However, as he grew up, he had been awoken with a harsh reality. His father did not care about him. His father did not care about anyone or anything except himself. His father had been impossible to please. It had taken years of friendship to erase the feelings of failure that Glenn’s father had instilled in him. The need to please his father had always driven Glenn to do much more than he needed to – often endangering himself.

  One saving grace Glenn had during his years as a young lad was Daividh’s mother. She had been more than a Clan Chief’s wife; she had been a mother to every child in the clan. Feeling pity for the boy who so glaringly lacked maternal love, she had cared for him as best as she could. Her son Daividh, who was of the same age with Glenn, had accepted the boy as a worthy playmate. Daividh was the closest thing to a family Glenn had ever had. When Daividh came of age to be groomed for his future duties as Laird of the clan, Glenn had enrolled as a soldier. As Daividh shouldered more and more responsibility, he made sure to have Glenn by his side as much as he possibly could.

  “Are ye sure ye want to do this, Daividh? I mean with the way ye have behaved to her, it is no wonder she does nae like yer pompous ass. Ye should admit defeat and bear yer cross,” Glenn said with a grin.

  “Yer words wound me,” Daividh said dryly. “I will nae give up so easily. This would nae be happening if she didnae behave like a little lass in her anger,” he said, trying to mask the unease he felt at her anger. He knew it shouldn’t bother him so but for some reason, he couldn’t deny that her anger at him bothered him.

  “Why do ye call her little? She is nae little.”

  Daividh nodded to himself. She was not little. Nothing about her was little. She was the same height as the average woman. If he were not that tall, perhaps she would not seem so little to him. Involuntarily, his eyes scanned the crowd, wondering if he would see her.

  “It annoys her.” Daividh replied his friend.

  Glenn shook his head. “’Tis no wonder she is so curt with ye. I rather like how witty she is. A woman should have a tongue.”

  “Ye say that because ’tis nae ye in this. I like my women biddable.”

  “Ye like yer women like women. Tall, short, thin, fat, biddable, feisty, ye’ve had them all.”

  “And they were all beautiful,” Daividh pointed out, as though that were the most important thing.

  “Aye, they were.”

  “Ye are no different.” Daividh glanced at Glenn who grinned widely.

  “I am nae the man who has to gain the affections of a woman who can barely stand me.”

  Daividh sighed. “Let us speak nay more about her. ’Tis that that brought trouble upon me.”

  Both men rode on, enjoying the celebrating clan members. The crowd was filled with men and women alike. Even the children were not missing from the festivities. Some of the women who still bore their young ones on their backs were present. As it always was when Daividh was among the people, it was rowdy. The uproar caused great amounts of noise, which was probably why the man Daividh had his eyes on was stupid enough to commit such an atrocity. He felt anyone would be too busy to see him. Daividh, whose focus had now been shifted, dismounted his horse and was by the man’s side before anyone knew what was happening.

  In a swift movement, Daividh held the man by the scruff of his neck. Quickly, the noise died down. “What is this?” Daividh growled at the man who had started to shake. “Oh, so ye ken fear? Yet ye strike that woman as though she were a man.”

  Daividh threw the man to his guards who had followed him and were now eagerly waiting for the slightest order from their chief. The silence was great and piercing. All eyes were on Daividh and the unfortunate man.

  Daividh knelt beside the woman and parted her hair that blocked out her eyes. “What are ye called?”

  “D- Da- Dalia, milord.”

  The pain in her voice infuriated Daividh even more. As gently as he could, he parted her hair so he could check the cheek the man had struck. A bruise had already started to form.

  “Stand up, Dalia.” It was not a request, it was a command. Daividh took her hands and helped her up. When she stood fully, he noticed her slightly rounded stomach. “Ye are with child?”

  “Aye, milord.”

  “’Tis nae the first time he has hit ye, is it?” Daividh felt the anger in him ready to overflow.

  “Nay. N-Nay, milord.” Dalia’s voice broke.

  “I see.” Daividh nodded.

  Sharp as a whip, he turned to the man and dealt him a blow that knocked him out. The man lay unconscious, sprawled on the floor.

  “Throw him into the empty dog cage. Let him live as an animal if he will act as one.” He pointed to a guard. “And ye, take her and hand her over to Mairi, the midwife. Mairi is to see to her wounds and check on the health of the babe she carries.”

  As the guards turned to his bidding, Daividh and his men mounted their horses again.

  “Three hearty cheers for Laird Daividh!” the lead singer called.

  The crowd went wild with the cheers and soon enough, the procession began again. When it ended, the people made merry, eating and drinking until the moon began to show forth. Food was shared between the people, the women danced with their husbands and occasionally with themselves while the children played together.

  When the party retired, the people left, happy, fulfilled, and with renewed trust in their soldiers.

  Chapter Nine

  If the ladies didn’t love Daividh before, they definitely loved him now, Lorraine thought with a small smile as she walked past the town square. She had been in to see several sick children and her route had taken her past the square. She had also made a stop at the market to pick up some roots that she needed.

  The markets had been full with several versions of the story of how Laird Daividh saved a woman from a brutish husband. The last version had included him running into the man with his horse and Lorraine wished she had been there to know what had actually happened. She had never been one for gossip but Daividh was involved and it mattered more.

  When she had finally walked past the town hall, a man was bound in chains. He looked beaten up and exhausted. It didn’t take much for her to figure out who he was. She wondered how long the man would be left to stay there. She hadn’t seen her mother since but she hoped that nothing was seriously wrong with the mother and baby. It was only a weak man that raised his hands on a woman. While her f
ather lived, he and her mother had had several disagreements but never once had he hit her. Subsequently, Maxwell had never laid a hand on her despite being big enough to.

  The clan was in good spirits. Not only did they have a benevolent laird, the heir to the throne seemed even better. Lorraine found herself confused amongst it all. She didn’t know what to say or feel.

  A situation in which Daividh had proved his goodness beyond doubt had presented itself and it conflicted her. Her mother had yet to return from the castle after being summoned to care for the pregnant woman. Lorraine prayed that she was alright. It would be a terrible thing to lose one’s baby in such a way.