A Highlander Born From Chaos (Highlanders 0f Kirklinton Book 2) Read online

  In his mind, these people were vicious and bloodthirsty, yet they seemed little different from him and his own family. Out in the courtyard, soldiers were busy with their duties, and the man named Sweeney was rubbing down the horses by the stables. Life here was little different from that at the castle of the MacBrydes, yet the gulf between them was vast. The hatred and mistrust of a generation separated them, and as Hamish was led towards the gates by Fraser and Evie had wondered if peace could ever come.

  “Father, may I speak for a moment with Hamish?” Evie asked, but her father shook his head.

  “Nay lass, ye may nae speak with him. This is the last time that ye shall see him, dae ye understand me? And ye, Hamish MacBryde, dae ye understand that this is the last time that ye shall see my daughter? For if I find the two of ye together, it will be the worse for ye both, of that I can assure ye. Am I clear?” Fraser said.

  Evie nodded, looking sadly at Hamish, who sighed deeply. He had no intention of obeying orders given him by an Elliott. The man may be Evie’s father, but he held no power over Hamish and had no right to dictate his terms like a general commanding his armies.

  “I will nae cross paths with ye until we have peace,” Hamish replied, and Fraser scowled.

  “Peace? Ye talk of peace, lad, but there can be nay peace between our clans. Nae when such history has passed,” Fraser replied.

  “But why must the past define the future? Why must the old memories still linger?” Hamish replied, but Fraser simply waved a dismissive hand.

  “Be gone now, before I change my mind and have ye thrown into the dungeons,” Fraser said, as the gates were opened and the track across the moorlands appeared before them.

  Hamish wasted no time, and he hurried out of the gates, enduring the taunts of soldiers upon the walls above. But, as he crossed the threshold, he turned and caught Evie’s eye. There was a sorrowful look there, a look of longing and desire, a look which took him by surprise. It was a look that echoed the feelings of his heart, one which spoke of sorrow and need; the need to see him again. He smiled at her, their gazes lingering before her father pulled her away, and the gates closed behind him.

  I will see ye again, Evie. I promise, he whispered to himself, and without further ado, he hurried across the moorland path, knowing he had had a lucky escape.

  * * *

  It was growing dark as he approached the road leading down to the castle of the MacBrydes. Hamish paused, sighing to himself and shaking his head. He had made his way quickly across the moorlands, not wishing to linger on the lands of Fraser Elliott a moment longer than necessary.

  Ye have had a lucky escape, lad, and that is for certain, he said to himself, thinking back to the foolish words he had whispered to himself as he left the castle gates.

  “Ye cannae see her again, ye fool,” he said out loud, his words echoing over the silent moorland.

  He was stupid to imagine that he might continue his liaisons with Evie Elliott. To do so would put both their lives at risk, not only from each other’s clans but from their own as well. He could well imagine his father’s reaction if it were known that the heir to Lairds of the MacBrydes was secretly meeting with an Elliott, the daughter of the Laird no less. And then there was Isabella.

  If she discovers what has happened, then that is the end of it all. The MacBrydes are as good as dead, he thought to himself and stamped his foot hard on the ground.

  “Curses,” he cried, for his feelings betrayed him.

  His heart was conflicted. He knew where his duty and his loyalty lay, and his mind told him to cast aside these feelings for the greater good. But the more he thought of Evie, the more his heart ached and yearned for her. He had never felt in such a way before, not for Isabella, not for anyone.

  Stop this foolishness, for yer sake, Hamish, he whispered to himself, as he made his way down the path towards the lights of the castle.

  But try as he may, Hamish could not rid himself of the growing feelings he possessed for Evie and the knowledge that it would surely be his heart that won over his duty.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The arrival of Hamish, and Evie’s reaction to him, had caused something of a tense atmosphere about the castle in the days which followed. Her mother barely spoke with her, and her brothers were sullen and offhand. Only her father made an effort to speak with her, and even he was far from his usual self. It seemed that they blamed her for Hamish’s intrusion upon their lives and a reminder to her parents of their ordeal at the hands of the Musgraves. But Evie could not simply forget Hamish MacBryde, and the more she thought of him, the deeper her affections grew.

  She felt sorry for him, betrothed to a woman who was every bit like the stories of the Musgraves her parents used to tell. Would he really go through with a marriage to a woman who was so despicable? A woman who, even though Evie had been in her company just a few moments, she could tell, would offer him a lifetime of pain. She found herself thinking of Hamish more and more. Her thoughts would wander, and she would be scolded for her distraction from this or that task, as her mother continued to bear a grudge against her.

  “Foolish girl,” her mother said, as the thread sprang out of the spinning wheel one afternoon, several days after Hamish had left the castle, “pay attention, will ye?”

  “I … I am sorry, mother,” Evie said, and her mother tutted at her.

  “Why are ye so distracted? Ye have been like this for days,” she replied.

  “I … I will try nae to be. I … I just have a lot to think about, that is all,” Evie replied, and her mother shook her head.

  “What? What cares dae ye have? ‘Tis yer father and I who have cares, nae ye, Evie. Ye are looked after and taken care of, a roof over yer head and food to eat, what more dae ye want? Why must ye be so disobedient,” her mother cried, flinging aside her yarn, as Evie looked at her in surprise, for usually her mother was not given over to anger.

  “I … I am sorry, mother. I didnae mean to upset ye, I just …” Evie said, but her mother fixed her with a hard star, shaking her head, as it seemed the anger which had built up inside her now burst forth.

  “Distracted by the MacBryde lad, that is what this is all about, is nae it? I have seen ye with that forlorn look in yer eyes, the sorrow in yer heart. What nonsense, and what treachery. Ye are an Elliott, Evie, and my only daughter. How can ye betray us like this with yer thoughts of a man betrothed to a Musgrave, an enemy who has sided with our enemies against us? They are nay friends of ours, ye hear me, Evie?” her mother said, fixing her with such an angry look that Evie was quite taken aback.

  “Aye, mother, I hear ye, but … but I cannae help the feelin’ of my heart, nor the thoughts of my mind. I … I am grateful to him,” Evie replied.

  “There is more to it than that, lass,” her mother replied, and she was silent for a moment.

  “But mother … please,” Evie began.

  “Get out, Evie!” her mother cried, “get out, and daenae speak with me again until ye can put this foolishness behind ye.”

  Evie made no further attempt to appease her mother, and instead, she hurried from the Great Hall and down the stairs, tears running down her cheeks, just as her brother Rory appeared at the door of the keep. He had barely even looked at her since Hamish’s capture, but when he saw the tears in her eyes, he paused, blocking her way and holding out his hand.

  “Wait there, Evie. Where are you goin’, and why are ye cryin’?” he said as she tried to push past him.

  “Out of my way, Rory. I daenae wish to speak with ye,” she said, but he caught her and pulled her to him, holding her by the shoulders.

  “Enough of this nonsense. What are ye doin’? Why the tears? Why all this nonsense? Ye have been like this for days, ever since that MacBryde felon was found on the moors. What is it about him that has so captured yer senses?” Rory said, glaring at her.

  “I … I daenae know,” Evie replied, and tears now rolled down her cheeks, “I … I only know that he was kind to me, and I c
annae help the way I feel about him,” and pushing Rory aside, she hurried out into the courtyard and towards the castle gate.

  “Woah, there, lass. Where dae ye think yer goin’?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “Let me out, I wish to go to the village, my business is my own,” she replied.

  “Yer father has forbidden it. Ye are nae allowed out of the castle, lass. Nae until he says so,” the soldier replied.

  “What’s goin’ on here then?” her Godfather said.

  Sweeney had a horse at his side, and it was limping badly. He looked at Evie and smiled, the tears still running down her cheeks.

  “The Laird has said that the lass is nae allowed to go out alone, but she wants to go to the village,” the soldier replied, and her Godfather nodded.

  “Then she can come along with me if she wishes. I am takin’ this horse to the blacksmith’s, he needs shod and I could dae with the walk. If the Laird asks, then tell him that she has gone along with me,” Sweeney replied, and Evie smiled at him through her tears.

  “Then on yer head be it, Sweeney. The Laird was in a foul mood when he left this mornin’ for the Armstrong castle,” the soldier replied, but he stepped aside, and the gates were opened, allowing them to pass.

  Evie was silent for a while, following her Godfather along the track down towards the village, but when they were a fair distance from the castle gates, she paused and turned to her.

  “Ye are certainly in a lot of trouble, lass. I have never known yer parents to be so angry with one of their bairns before,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Everyone is angry with me, Father, Mother, Rory, Owen, ye, everyone,” Evie replied.

  “Who said that I was angry with ye, lass? I am nae angry at all, only concerned for ye. I am worried for ye, that is all. Sneakin’ off to the castle of the MacBrydes as ye did and then defendin’ the MacBryde lad. If there is one thing guaranteed to anger yer parents, then ‘Tis surely that, lass,” he said, shaking his head and trotting on the horse.

  “But I only wanted to thank him, he rescued me, he was kind to me. Why will nay one believe that?” she said, and Sweeney sighed.

  “Because for twenty years we have all thought the MacBrydes to be nothin’, but traitors and we have grown to hate them, or at least to hate the thought of them. That is why lass. ‘Tis nae this Hamish MacBryde himself that yer father hates, but ‘Tis everythin’ he represents. Yer father has always sworn to protect yer mother, and it was at the hands of the Musgraves that he almost lost her,” Sweeney replied.

  They had come about half a mile from the castle now and were crossing the moorlands towards the track, which led down to Lochrutton. There was a breeze in the air, but the sky was clear above, and Evie could see a hawk circling up above, wending its way in a spiral, as it prepared to dive down for its prey.

  “Sometimes I wish I was like that hawk,” she said, pointing upwards, “then I could just fly away and dae as I wished.”

  “Every person wants to fly away at times, but sadly we cannae. Yer parents love ye very much, Evie, and that is why they want to protect ye,” Sweeney replied.

  “But … if I want to see him again, why can I nae? What is so wrong with that thought?” she asked, and he shook his head.

  “Ye are too young to understand, Evie. Much history has passed between the two clans these long years past. Ye cannae just forget it and yer father and mother certainly cannae. I was there when all this happened when yer poor mother was carried off to the Musgrave castle, and we feared the worst. Yer father thought he had lost her, and if it had nae been for his bravery, then he would have done so for certain. But yer father’s bravery brought her back to us, and we thank God for that,” Sweeney replied, as they came in sight of the village.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lochrutton lay below trees, tucked away in a valley, close to the borders. It was no more than a handful of huts, the kirk standing at one end of the track which led through it and the blacksmith’s workshop at the other. Evie always liked to come here, for it made her think of her father and the McGinn’s, working here at the forge in years gone by. How strange it must have been for him to realize that his mother and father were not the people he believed them to be. But rather the man and woman who had adopted him when her grandfather sent his mother away across the borders.

  It seemed strange to Evie that her grandfather could have been so cruel. But those were different times, and she knew that her grandmother, Lena, had long forgiven him for his actions. Actions born out of desperation to avoid scandal and the weakening of the clan, rather than genuine malice on his part. Had her grandfather not acted in such a way, then Evie’s own life may have been very different; indeed, it may have been no life at all.

  As they arrived at the blacksmith’s workshop, she watched with interest as the old blacksmith hammered shoes into a horse’s hoof, the animal standing patiently as it was ministered to. As he noticed them approaching, he paused, looking up and nodding to Sweeney, who brought the lamed horse to a halt.

  “There is nay need to guess what ‘Tis ye are here for Sweeney,” the old blacksmith said, and Sweeney nodded.

  “Aye, this poor creature lamed himself ridin’ out yesterday. He needs new shoes, can ye see to him?” Sweeney said, and the blacksmith nodded.

  He had always fascinated Evie, how he so dexterously went about his work, a skill she knew her father also to possess, though she had never seen him at the forge. There was much about her father that remained a mystery, like the whisperings about his healing hands and how he had so often been called upon in the past to tend to ordinary folk in the village. She had never liked to ask him about it directly, though she had once questioned her uncle, who had smiled and told her that her father’s hands were like a prayer and that those who received them went away filled with grace.

  She tried to imagine her father at work here in his youth, and her uncle, too, the two of them no older than she was, yet back then already destined for great adventures. As the blacksmith and Sweeney discussed payment for the horse, she stood stroking its mane, and it whinnied., stomping its hoof, as she patted it.

  “There, there, lad, ye will be all right, the blacksmith will see to ye,” she whispered, placing her face close to that of the horse.

  “A horse whisperer are ye, lass?” the blacksmith said, turning to look at her, and Evie blushed.

  “Nay, but they always seem to listen,” she replied, smiling.

  “Evie has a way with the horses, that is for certain,” her Godfather replied, and the blacksmith nodded.

  “So, I see. The one over there is a spirited beast and make nay mistake,” he said, pointing to a chestnut foal which was tethered to a post by the croft which had once belonged to her father.

  “And who does he belong to?” Evie said, crossing over to the horse, which whinnied and stomped his hoof.

  “The Musgraves,” the blacksmith replied, and Sweeney looked at him aghast.

  “The Musgraves? And what are ye doin’ tendin’ to the horses of the Musgraves? Ye are on the wrong side of the border for that, if the Laird discovered what ye were doin’ he would …” Sweeney said, but the blacksmith waved him dismissively away.

  “Then the Laird can pay me the money I would lose by nae shoddin’ the horses of any who come to me and cross my hand with silver,” he replied, shaking his head.

  “Aye, but the Musgraves are our enemies, are ye nae loyal to the clan?” Sweeney said, looking at the man in astonishment, but the blacksmith simply shook his head.

  “As loyal as they come, but I will nae turn down good money simply to please yer principles and the Laird’s grudges. The Musgraves are nay enemies of mine. Their stable boy brings the horses over the border, and I see to them, is it such a terrible thing to make an honest livin’ in these parts?” the blacksmith replied, and Sweeney nodded.

  “Aye, I cannae blame ye for makin’ an honest livin’, but I wouldnae wish the Laird to find out that ye are shoddin’ Musgrave hors
es,” Sweeney replied.

  “The dispute between the Laird and the Musgraves is nae mine. ‘Tis an old rivalry many years past, if Fraser Elliott wishes to hold his grudges, then he is free to dae so. But I prefer to let bygones be bygones, and if the Musgraves will pay me to shod their horse’s hooves, then so be it,” he replied, going back to his work.

  Sweeney glanced at Evie, who shrugged her shoulders. She could see no reason why the blacksmith’s actions caused such consternation in her Godfather, but then it was precisely the same argument she was making in favor of the MacBrydes. What good did the continued conflicts of the past serve when it seemed so obvious that ordinary men like the blacksmith had moved forward, rather than holding to the conflicts of the past.