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

  “I feel we are losin’ her,” her mother said, but at this, Evie had heard enough.

  She opened the door, pretending to have heard nothing, and the gathered party looked at her, embarrassment upon their face. They were eating supper together, an empty place between her brothers reserved for her, opposite, which sat her uncle and Caitlin, her parents at either end of the table. The remnants of a joint of meat lay upon a platter and bread and cheese were being passed around. Evie smiled, doing her best to appear normal and hide the deception which felt as though it were painted upon her face.

  “I am sorry I am late back, the blacksmith is ever so busy, and he was unable to shoe the horse today. I am to return tomorrow and collect him,” she said, settling herself down to eat.

  “Evie, we had grown worried for ye. ‘Tis late now and darkness has fallen,” her mother said, offering her a look of chastisement.

  “I am sorry, mother. I wanted to bring the horse back this evenin’, and I waited for as long as I could. But the snow is lyin’ thick now, and I thought ye would worry so I returned,” Evie replied.

  “The snow is why I am here too,” Caitlin said, smiling at Evie, “though I wanted to see ye too. I walked across here this afternoon, but yer mother told me ye had gone to the village. I would have made the walk there, but the snow was so thick, and yer mother insisted I remain here.”

  “And I am glad she did, Caitlin,” Evie replied, “And what of ye, uncle? Are ye a prisoner of the snow too?”

  Her uncle smiled.

  “In a manner of speakin’, but I had some business to discuss with yer father. The road to Lanercost grows more dangerous by the day, and the brothers have asked me to seek assurances that the monastery will be protected,” he replied.

  “And it shall be. The English wouldnae dare attack a holy place, we share the same religion even if we daenae share much else in common,” her father replied.

  “Aye, but ‘Tis the northern clans we should be wary of,” Owen said.

  “And the MacBrydes,” Rory replied, glancing at Evie.

  “Why dae ye look at me in such a way?” she asked.

  “Because ye know as well as I dae that the MacBrydes cannae be trusted and that they are as likely as any to behind any attacks upon the western road,” he replied.

  “Owen has said ‘tis the northern clans who are responsible. Why would the MacBrydes wish to attack peaceful monks at prayer?” Evie asked, shaking her head.

  “Because they cannae be trusted,” her mother replied.

  Evie tried her best to maintain her composure, but she could not help but be angered by her mother’s words. Why were the MacBrydes so hated and blamed for every sorry thing which happened upon the borders?

  “Will ye excuse me,” she said, as she laid down her knife and pushed her plate aside.

  “Ye go to bed, Evie? Yer uncle was to tell us stories this night,” her father said, eyeing her with suspicion.

  “Aye, and I am tired after bein’ out in the cold all day. I shall have to walk down to Lochrutton again tomorrow to bring back the horse, and I wish to go to my rest now,” Evie replied.

  “Let her go, Fraser. She looks tired,” her mother replied, and the Laird nodded.

  “I will come with ye,” Caitlin said, rising from the table and laying aside her napkin.

  “Ye daenae have to, Caitlin. Stay and enjoy my uncle’s stories,” Evie replied, but Caitlin shook her head.

  “Nay, I am tired, Evie,” she replied, and turning to the Laird she curtsied, “thank ye for yer gracious hospitality, Laird. I am ever so grateful to ye for allowin’ me to stay here this night.”

  “Ye are welcome any night, Caitlin. Our home is yers,” Evie’s mother said, and the two girls made their way to bed.

  But, as they did so, her uncle rose from his place and hurried after them, calling for Evie.

  “Wait a moment, lass, I have barely spoken with you, come and sit a moment,” he said, and Evie smiled.

  She had always loved her uncle dearly, for he was wise and had such interesting stories to tell. She nodded to Caitlin, who made her way upstairs, before sitting in a nook with her uncle, away from the others at the end of the Great Hall.

  “I am sorry, uncle, I just felt a little tired, I always have time for you,” she replied, patting his hand.

  He looked older than usual, as though some weight were beating down upon him, but he smiled, pulled up the hood on his habit, for despite the fire, it was cold.

  “I always have time for my dear niece. Besides, I will be away back to Lanercost soon. Just a few moments,” Duncan replied.

  She had always respected him deeply, his quiet demeanor masking a sharp mind, one who always had wisdom to impart. He drew his chair close to her, wrapping his habit closely around him.

  “Dae ye think we shall ever have peace, uncle?” she asked, pulling a blanket over herself, as the dogs came to sit at their feet.

  “Peace? Ye mean between the Scots and the English? I doubt it very much, lass,” he replied.

  “Or between the border clans?” she said.

  “Ye mean the MacBrydes? Yer mother has told me about yer meetin’ with the young Laird to be,” her uncle replied, “for what ‘Tis worth, I daenae believe there is any harm in it.”

  Evie was surprised to hear him say that, usually, he was so loyal to her father, but she knew too that her uncle had always been a peacemaker. He was no warrior, but a kind and honest man who could always be trusted to speak the words of his heart. Now, he looked at her with interest, the firelight flickering shadows across his face.

  “In my seein’ Hamish MacBryde?” she asked, feeling bolder.

  “The more yer father tries to stop ye, the more determined ye shall be to dae so. He should remember the risks he took in courtin’ yer mother. Theirs was a forbidden love, but yer father was determined to see it through,” he replied.

  She stopped short in revealing the true extent of her relationship with Hamish. But there was something in her uncle’s eyes which suggested he knew more than she was saying. If her father’s hands had healing qualities to them, then her uncle’s gift was sure to see beyond words and discern the secrets of a person’s heart. He smiled at her, and the conversation turned to life at Lanercost, and Evie promised to visit him soon.

  But, as she went to bed that night, Evie knew that she had found the confirmation she needed and that in going to Hamish, she was doing the right thing entirely, for she was following where her heart should lead her, and nothing was more important than that.

  * * *

  “They were worried for ye, Evie,” Caitlin said as Evie climbed into bed.

  The two would spend the night together, a fire having been kindled in the hearth and extra blankets placed upon the bed. It was the best way to keep warm on such a cold night, and they prepared hurriedly for bed, the room lit by the fire, and a solitary candle.

  “I was quite all right, Caitlin,” Evie replied, as she climbed into bed.

  “Ye were gone all day. Was the blacksmith makin’ the shoes himself?” Caitlin asked, laughing.

  “Nay … I was … I just wanted to wait, I had things to think about,” Evie replied.

  “What things, Evie? What were ye thinkin’ about? Ye have been so distant of late, so absent. I have hardly seen anythin’ of ye, and I have missed ye,” Caitlin replied.

  Evie sighed, could she confide in Caitlin? The two had been friends since childhood, the closest of friends, and she felt a sense of guilt for having kept her distance these past few weeks. Caitlin was her closest friend, but she was also fiercely loyal to the clan and had no love for the MacBrydes in a skirmish with which her father had been killed.

  Evie wanted to tell someone of her love for Hamish. She wanted to make Caitlin understand that he did not pose a threat, the precise opposite. He wanted to make peace, to find a solution to their generations-old conflict, and leave the past where it belonged. She sighed, pulling the blankets up around her and turning on her si
de. A tear was forming in her eye, for she felt so helpless. The castle, her family, her clan, it all felt so alien to her, as though she no longer belonged there in their midst.

  “I … I am sorry, Caitlin, but I have been distracted of late. I know I have been distant from ye, but … but there has been somethin’ weighin’ upon my heart. Somethin’ I cannae rid myself of and which makes my heart seem fit to burst,” Evie replied, rolling over to face her friend, who looked at her in astonishment.

  “Evie, ye are cryin’, and yer face looks so forlorn. Whatever is the matter with ye?” Caitlin asked.

  “I … oh, Caitlin, I cannae hide it any longer. But ye must promise to tell nay one of this, nay my brothers nor my parents, nae even yer own dear mother,” Evie said, and Caitlin nodded.

  “Aye, Evie. I promise. Ye know that ye can tell my anythin’, and I shall listen. We have been friends these many a year, and I wouldnae betray ye, ye know ye can trust me as I trust ye,” Caitlin replied.

  But ye have nae heard what ‘Tis I have to say, Evie thought to herself, knowing that if she revealed the truth, then there was no going back on it.

  “I know I can, Caitlin. ‘Tis just … well, what I am about to tell ye is my deepest secret and one that changes my whole life. I have nae entered into it lightly, ye must understand that, and I know the consequences of what I have done,” Evie replied.

  Caitlin furrowed her brow, seemingly confused by these words, and amazed at what Evie was now revealing. Her eyes narrowed, and she fixed Evie with a searching stare.

  “What has happened, Evie? What have ye done?” she asked.

  “I have … I have met a man, and I have fallen in love. That is why I have been distant, secretive even. I have met a man whom I have come to love and who also loves me too,” Evie said, knowing now that there could be no turning back.

  “Oh … Evie, why did ye nae tell me this before? I am happy for ye, though ye have always said that men are of nay importance to ye, that ye daenae seek marriage or companionship,” Caitlin said, smiling at Evie, who nodded.

  “Aye, I know that is what I have said in the past, but I cannae help fallin’ in love. I cannae help my feelin’ towards him,” she said.

  “Who is he?” Caitlin asked, “a man from the village, the blacksmith’s boy? He is a handsome lad and make nay mistake, and he …”

  “ nae the blacksmith’s lad, Caitlin, will ye listen for a moment. The lad is nae someone ye will know, though ye may have heard of him before. And this is why ye must keep it a secret and know that nay one else can ever discover what I have done, nae for now at least. It would break my mother’s heart if she knew, and I daenae wish to dae that, nae ever,” Evie replied.

  “But a daughter in love is surely the desire of every mother’s heart. Yer mother would be delighted, as would my own to know that I was to be married,” Caitlin replied, looking puzzled.

  “Nay this time, Caitlin. For the man, I have fallen in love with is Hamish MacBryde and ye know what that means, daenae ye?” Evie said as Caitlin looked at her in horror, her face a picture of everything which Evie had feared it would be.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hamish’s mind was on Evie, as he made his way down the path towards the castle. It was almost dark now, and the torches were burning on either side of the gates. From up above, Hamish could see how vulnerable his defenses were. It would take little to overrun the castle, and their only safety was the face of their alliance with the Musgraves. If the castle were attacked, then an army of English soldiers could be there in a matter of hours.

  It was for this reason that the MacBrydes had survived for so long, an island amidst a sea of enemies. If the alliance was broken, then how soon would the castle be overrun?

  Which is why we need peace upon our borders, he said to himself, sighing as he made his way down the track towards the castle.

  As he approached, the soldiers hailed him through the darkness, no doubt suspecting an enemy at such a late hour. But Hamish was soon inside the relative safety of the farmyard. A light was burning in the parlor, and with a heavy heart, he made his way inside, the dogs running to greet him as he shook the snow from his cloak.

  “And how long does it take to check the high fences, they are no more than a few miles away. Were you counting the livestock individually?” Isabella said from her place by the fire.

  “I walked on further than I intended. There was much to see to; some of the crofters report strangers on the road. If I am to be Laird, then I must see to it that they are protected,” Hamish replied.

  “And what of your duties here?” she asked, “your duties to me?”

  “I was nae aware that we were married yet,” he replied, slumping into the chair opposite her and warming his hands on the fire.

  “We are betrothed, Hamish. Or have you quite forgotten that? You seem entirely lacking in your affection towards me, it is as though you do not wish this marriage to take place. My family has placed considerable trust in you, I could have married whomsoever I wished, but I chose you and marry you I shall,” she said, but Hamish simply shook his head.

  He was tired of her constant jealousy and controlling ways. How she spoke to him, as though it were she and not him that was master of this castle. He would have gladly dismissed her there and then, but he could hardly throw her out into the snow. Besides, now was not the time. It would not do to cause an upset or to have her fly into a rage.

  “I am tired, Isabella,” he replied, and she tutted and turned away from him.

  “You cannot hide your feelings forever, Hamish,” she said as the door opened, and one of the servants came hurrying into the parlor.

  “I daenae wish to be disturbed,” Hamish snapped, but the servant advanced into the room.

  “Please, sir, ye must come quickly. ‘Tis the Laird, he is dyin’, and he calls for ye,” the servant said.

  Hamish looked up in astonishment, rising to his feet, as Isabella did too.

  “Dyin’? He was nae sick yesterday, there has been nay change in him for weeks,” Hamish replied.

  “He has taken ill, sir. A fever brought on by the cold. It has been risin’ all day, but now, I fear the worst. Please come, he asks for ye,” the servant said.

  Hamish turned to Isabella, who waved her hand towards the door.

  “Go then, Hamish. It seems you are to be Laird far sooner than you imagined,” she said, and without making any reply, Hamish hurried after the servant, who led him up to his father’s chambers above.

  “Is there nothin’ that can be done?” he asked, “have ye sent for the healer? She must have some remedy to treat him with.”

  “Her croft is two miles away, sir. The weather has closed in around us, and there is nay hope of sendin’ someone until the mornin’, but I fear that by then, it will be too late,” he replied.

  Hamish nodded. His father had been ill for many months, a shadow of his former self. While there was little love lost between them, he was hardly prepared for the burden which would now befall him.

  I have been Laird in all but name these past months, he said to himself, as he prepared to enter his father’s chambers, but the old man does nae believe I am fit to be so.

  Inside, a fire was burning in the hearth, but it had done little to alleviate the chill. There was a sense of death and foreboding in the room, his father lying on his back and breathing heavily upon the bed.

  “Father …” Hamish said, approaching the bedside and kneeling as was his custom.

  “Hamish …” his father said, his voice rasping as he raised his hand.

  “I am here, Father. Ye must nae worry, ‘Tis a fever, it will pass. Ye must endure it, I shall send for the wise woman in the mornin’ for she is bound to have some remedy to help ye,” Hamish replied, but his father shook his head, raising himself weakly on his arm.

  “There is nay more hope, Hamish. This will be my last night, I can feel it,” he said, as he began to cough.

  “Ye are strong, Father. Ye are a MacB
ryde, Laird of this castle, Laird of all ye survey. ‘Tis a fever and nothin’ more,” Hamish replied, though, in his heart, he knew his father’s words to be true.

  There was something different about him. His face, illuminated in the firelight, seemed withdrawn, and his hand felt icy cold to touch. It was though he were slipping away, grasping at the last strains of life, his hour coming closer. Hamish knelt at the bedside, his hand upon his father’s, as the old man lay dying before him.

  As a child, Hamish had feared his father. He was a man of short temper and swift punishment. Hamish had always felt a sense of inadequacy in his presence, as though he could never live up to his father’s expectations. The Laird had told him on numerous occasions that he did not consider him fit for that which was so shortly to be entrusted to him.