Finding My Highlander (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

When they met the enemy, Kendrick turned berserker: an avenging angel. Once on the battlefield he gave his gnawing, murderous rage full vent and every whoreson he slashed was in retribution for the hurts Andra had suffered. The battle had been fierce but resolved quickly.

The Cameron warriors made a hasty retreat leaving a few of their dead on the field of battle. While squires and healers busily attended the injured and dead, Kendrick’s men gave him a wide berth. They knew better than to engage their leader when his fury was piqued.

Rabbie came alongside him. “Are you well, cousin? You seemed consumed with battle-lust today. Mayhap extreme for the circumstance as you usually just wound enough to scare them away.”

His battle rage spent, Kendrick decided to share what Andra had disclosed.

“Aye, Rabbie, I am well enough.” He wiped the blood from his sword, placed the tip in the dirt, and rested his hand on the hilt. “The injured will require time to recover before we return to Ruadhstone.” His gaze drifted over the horizon in the direction of their home while they stood in quiet contemplation.

Kendrick shook his head. “She had a son,” he blurted. “And the whoreson who impregnated her dinnae marry her.” He spat on the ground and growled, “What kind of man abandons his woman and son?”

“Och, that explains much. She no longer has the son?”

“Nae, I believe he’s dead. She spoke of him in the past tense, but became too distressed for me to press her further.” Kendrick rubbed at the dirt on his forehead and brushed back his hair.

“Do you ken the blackguard’s name? Is he a member of Cormag’s clan?” Rabbie maintained a calm tone of voice as he always did when Kendrick showed distress.

“I don’t have any other details. She was far too fragile. I didn’t want to cause undue strain that might bring about a relapse with her illness. But I swear on my honor, Rabbie, if I ever find the man, it will be his last day on this earth.” Kendrick was falling for the lass and falling verra hard.

“Hmm.” Rabbie just shook his head in commiseration and slapped Kendrick’s shoulder, “Let’s find McDuff, and discover what he kens about this skirmish.”

Laird Kevin McDuff, none too happy with this recent attack, blustered in anger as he walked the battlements with Kendrick and Rabbie. “They become ever more brazen with their reiving, threats, and constant attacks. It seems they won’t be satisfied until they starve out every crofter and claim all lands adjoining theirs.”

“Between their alliances with the Campbells, his hired mercenaries, and Sassenach dragoons, he becomes a growing threat in the area.” Rabbie added.

Kendrick rubbed his scruffy chin, “Aye and since the Camerons side with the Sassenach whenever it gives them the slightest advantage over their enemies, they create problems for everyone. Cormag Cameron has always been a ruthless, greedy bastard.”

Kendrick, Rabbie, Struan, and Cormag had fostered together as lads. An intense competition always existed between them that intensified considerably when Kendrick married his first wife, Kirstin, a third cousin to Cormag. Cormag had been obsessed with the woman and blamed Kendrick for Kirstin’s death, though she had died from childbed fever.

The McDuff watched Kendrick closely. “Struan tells me you found a lost Cameron woman after your last encounter with them. Mayhap they set her in your midst for nefarious purposes. What are your plans for the lass? Will you ransom her in an effort to seek peace? I wouldna advise such a course, you ken, not a one of those bastards can be trusted at their word.” McDuff trusted no Cameron and had long been vocal about it.

“Nae, she is not from those Camerons. She’s been away from Scotland since she was a wee bairn and says she has no living kin. Besides, I’d never release any lass into that man’s hands.”

In that regard, Rabbie agreed with Kendrick. However, he suspected Kendrick’s desire to keep the woman had little to do with their hatred of Cormag Cameron and his clan. Still, they had much to learn about her and he hoped, for all their sakes, that McDuff was not correct in suggesting an ulterior motive for Andra’s appearance. A shudder ran through him when he considered the possibilities should the notion prove true.

Chapter Eighteen

Now that she was recovering, Andra had been moved to her own room several doors down from Kendrick’s. Finally, a sennight after her arrival, her condition improved enough to receive visitors. Beyond regular visits from Jane and Beatrice, all others had left her in relative quiet during her recovery. Laying about made her feel antsy, useless; she wanted to get busy again. She had not seen Kendrick or the other men since the day she woke from her delirium, and that made her anxious as well.

Earlier that morning she stared out the window, taking in the view of the castle below. Jane had informed her that she resided at Ruadhstone Castle. The very one she had contacted in her time. Their antiquities director had agreed to house her father’s
sgian dubh
in their museum during the visit she had planned. His interest in the artifact resulted in her obtaining permission to carry the weapon in a sealed case on the plane. Of course, that flight had never taken place.

From the vantage point of her window, she could see most of the inner and outer baileys, the front, crenellated gate towers, and two side towers that loomed double the height of the gate towers. All the stone, including the outer and inner walls appeared a dark golden to reddish color that would deepen under the sun to the shade of the red hills visible in the distance. Several utilitarian buildings nestled along the walls of the lower bailey—a blacksmith’s shed, weapons shed, stables, and other buildings where workers busied themselves in the tasks necessary to the maintenance of such a fortress. To her right she could see the edge of a deep blue loch, and when the wind blew, the smell of the sea wafted on the breeze. A modest-sized village was just visible through the trees about a mile from the castle gates.

The castle appeared remarkably like the photos in the brochure she had received from the antiquities director. In her time, the outer bailey was a paved parking lot, but the gate and drawbridge, and the inner buildings appeared the same. The castle’s director had expressed great pride when he described their management and restoration of many of the original features. How curious that she had ended up in this place, where she had intended to visit, in another time.

Andra had been walking around the room in an attempt to strengthen her weakened muscles when another burst of coughing returned her to bed. Staring up at the canopy, trying to make sense of recent events, she heard a soft knock at the door.

“Enter.” she called.

An exuberant Kyle rushed in and jumped on the bed, followed by a stunning young woman with deep-blue eyes and hair the color of dark honey. Senga, reticent as ever, stood quietly behind the young woman, but glanced at Andra from under lowered lashes.

“Lady Andra, it has taken all my strength to corral this wild lad and force him tae let you rest. He’s been ever so anxious to see you with his own eyes.” A conspiratorial giggle escaped. “Oh, excuse me,” the young woman dipped into a curtsey. “I am Isabel, sister to Kendrick and Lorne. Mother tells us you may be able to join us for the evening meal. With your permission, we wish to escort you to the hall and perhaps, if you’re strong enough, give you a brief tour of the grounds.”

“Your mother mentioned that you had undertaken the task of handling the children. My thanks for your help.” Andra noticed that Senga wore a simple, mushroom-colored dress and held an arm full of beautifully colored gowns. Wrapped around her shoulders was the heather-colored pashmina that Andra had given the girl after her fall into the river.

Turning to the young girl behind Isabel, Andra asked, “What do you have there, Senga?” She hoped the girl would finally speak, but Senga only dipped a little curtsey and draped the clothes over a chair by the fire.

Isabel gestured to the gowns, “Mother sent those for you. Kendrick said you only had clothing from your travels, not fit for life at the keep.” She plastered her hand over her mouth and gasped. “Please excuse me, m’lady, I meant no offense.”

A coy smile crossed Isabel’s lips, and she tilted her head slightly as she observed Andra. “Though, ‘tis quite unusual for Kendrick to concern himself aboot such matters.”

Isabel displayed an infectious exuberance. She was clearly on a fishing expedition to learn about the relationship between Andra and Kendrick. Andra did not intend to disclose anything about that. “Your brother is correct in his assessment of my wardrobe. I’m sure whatever Lady Beatrice has sent will be far more practical than the clothes I have with me.”

“Aye, they are quite lovely items, m’lady. If they need tae be taken in or hemmed, the seamstress could easily have an item altered before this evening. Senga and I will help you dress if you wish.”

She enjoyed the visit with Isabel and the children, but the one crucial question she couldn’t bring herself to ask was—
where is Kendrick
? “It will be wonderful to get out of this room and join your family for the evening meal. I gratefully accept your offer of assistance dressing and a tour, if there is time.” Especially the help dressing as she had no idea how to strap herself into the array of clothing displayed before her.

“Truly, I feel weaker than a newborn baby, but am anxious to move about and regain some strength.”

“Senga, which of the dresses do you think I should try this evening?” she asked, hoping the girl would speak. Nothing. Not a word. Senga sifted through the gowns and pulled out a wool garment of the softest, summer green with gold thread woven at the neck and along the sleeves. After sending Kyle from the room, they plaited Andra’s hair. The unruly shorter hair framing her face refused to stay in place. Isabel left the room, returned quickly with a beautiful set of bone combs, and proceeded to tuck up the loose ‘fringes’ as she called them.

“Is the corset required?” Andra asked as Isabel held up a bone stomacher. “My ribs and chest ache and I still find breathing difficult.” Horrific coughing had wracked her for days and just then, another wrenching cough proved her point.

“Oh, aye, I think you must wear the corset. The only person to forgo one is cook who insists it would cause her food to sour,” Isabel giggled.

“That contraption might sour me as well, I’m afraid my bruised ribs will protest most vigorously. Perhaps for now I could forego it, and wear that lovely dark-green jerkin. No one would be the wiser.” Though much improved, Andra intended to abandon the corset; certain any contraption that restricted her breath would not benefit continued recovery.

“You’re probably correct, if you wear the jerkin ‘tis unlikely anyone would ken.” Isabel conceded.

When they entered the great hall, Isabel led Andra to the raised dais at the far end of the room. A sudden hush settled as she passed the long row of tables. With a grimace she hoped passed for a smile, she searched the crowd for a particular familiar face. People observed her with curiosity; others with disdainful expressions or outright scowls mumbling comments she did not catch.

Beatrice sat to the right of Lorne. The other men from her rescue were conspicuously absent. A pain fisted in her chest. She hadn’t realized how much she missed seeing Kendrick, Rabbie, and even Struan, but Kendrick’s absence felt particularly hurtful. She assumed he simply did not want to be in her presence now that they had arrived at his castle. Who could blame him? As laird, more important matters plagued him than the welfare of her woeful self. How would she feel in his situation? These questions rattled through her brain as she struggled to move gracefully through the room. The necessity to remain calm and pleasant, an almost laughable concept under the circumstances, infused her limbs. She simply must maintain the ruse long enough to fully recover and find a way home.

“Welcome, Lady Andra,” Lorne rose to assist her to a seat next to his mother.

Beatrice patted her trembling hand, “Dinnae let the gossips disturb you. ‘Tis just their curiosity o’er you. You’ll win their hearts soon enough.” Beatrice smiled sweetly and eyed Lorne in silent communication while Andra took the seat offered.

Before sitting again, he raised his mug, “Raise your cups and let us welcome our guest, Lady Andra, whose ministrations following my recent injuries are the reason I stand before you this day.”

Lorne didn’t use her last name. Possibly to avert the crowd’s anger over her being a Cameron. Besides, she’d heard that that information had already made the rounds of Castle Ruadhstone—more than once.

Lorne winked at her then turned back to the room. He hadn’t missed the disgruntled murmurings. “The laird and his kin offer Lady Andra sanctuary and our protection,” he continued in a voice that brooked no further discussion or dissent, intent on settling the matter.

Hushed whispers and grumbles hissed through the crowd, but everyone raised their cups and toasted, though none too enthusiastically. One girl sitting at a table to the left lashed her with a stare of pure venom then quickly covered her glare and turned away. The woman looked familiar; Andra seemed to remember her in the sickroom during the fog of her illness.

Beatrice introduced the others sitting at their table. A beautiful young woman with long, golden locks and eyes the color of dark chocolate sat to Lorne’s left. Her adoring gaze followed Lorne’s every move.

“May I introduce Lorne’s betrothed, Lady Edana, and her father, Laird John Keith.”

The father spoke with a deep rumbling voice, “We are pleased to welcome the lass who aided Lorne’s recovery following his recent injuries.” He raised his mug to his lips, but his eyes scrutinized her closely and lacked warmth.

Edana smiled shyly and nodded, “‘Tis an honor to meet you, m’lady. I ken we shall be good friends. I am ever so grateful for the care you rendered Lorne.” Then she glanced at Lorne, starry eyed, obviously besotted.

“I hope we will be the best of friends.” Andra replied warmly. The days ahead would no doubt find her in need of every ally possible.

The aroma of roasted meat and an assortment of roasted vegetables enticed Andra, but a meager appetite permitted only a few bites and small sips of wine. She considered asking why Kendrick and his men were absent, but held her tongue. After the meal, several individuals pushed the trestle tables back against the walls as men took up their instruments to begin the evening’s entertainment.

Lorne stood again and raised his mug to gain the clan’s attention. “This night it also pleases me to announce the wedding date for myself and my lovely betrothed, Edana. The wedding will take place in a month.” The room erupted in rousing approval, much different from the weak greeting her introduction elicited.

“Kyle tells us that you have a lovely voice, Andra. Would you grace us with a song tonight?” Isabel asked sweetly.

Kyle and his sister, seated at a table just below the left side of the dais, had heard Isabel’s request and the lad jumped to his feet. “Aye, ‘tis true, even the Laird says she sings as sweet as the wee birds. I think she is an angel.” His smile beamed over crooked, little, white teeth and his cheeks were rosy blooms.

Andra smiled at him, her heart about to burst. Impossible to refuse his entreaty, she thought for a moment about what song might please this crowd and not sound too strange or out of place. She decided on “My Heart Will Go On,” a love song to honor Lorne and his Edana, and hoped it would meet with their approval. After all, the song didn’t specifically reference a shipwreck and losses at sea. The song’s sentiment easily applied to these harsh times—words about love held in one’s heart no matter the circumstances lovers faced.