Highland Daydreams (10 page)

By the time she had finished her tale; her eyes were reddened from tears. Bram wore a deep frown and knew not what to say. He felt sorry for the lass and the way she was treated, and she was anything but plain and useless. She was beautiful, and from what little he knew of her, she was resilient and courageous. Had she nowhere to go, Bram would gladly offer her a place within his clan. He knew that his brother would take her in and that all of his clansmen would show nothing but kindness. He could only hope that her father would offer her the compassion and protection that she deserved.

The night passed quickly. When morning was upon them, Bram crept out of the room to allow Lara to continue resting before their long journey. Once he had prepared the horse, he went back to the room to wake Lara.

The sunshine coming in through the windows lit the room. Lara was sprawled out on the bed like a cat. Walking over to the side of the bed, Bram looked down at her. Wisps of hair spread across the pillow like a spider’s web, and her face was buried in the covers. The sheets were tucked around her, hugging her form. He could see the curve of her waist to her hip, and down to her small feet. It made him desperately want to snuggle up behind her and hold her in his arms.

Bram felt very protective of her, and could not control the feelings and emotions stirring within him. He felt as if he had known her a lifetime, yet he barely knew her at all. Days had felt like years when they were confined in the dungeon. He could not distinguish whether his feelings for her were friendly or something more. All he knew was that he would protect her with his life, and cut down any man who treated her poorly.

Lara stirred, feeling someone watching her. She slowly opened her eyes and looked about the room. Bram had been staring down at her; his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked forlorn. His close proximity to her made her breath quicken and she wanted to jump out of the bed and put distance between them. Bram gave her a soft smile before he spoke.

“It is time to wake. I have brought ye something to eat,” he said handing her an apple.

As he reached to hand her the apple, Lara noticed how calloused his hands were and all of the tiny little scars along the backs of them. His hands were twice as big as hers, and, she imagined, quite strong as well. They were the hands of a warrior.

Lara grabbed the apple and took a small bite, its juice beading on her lips.

Bram’s heart fluttered at the site of Lara licking the juice from her lips. How sweet they would taste if only he was given the opportunity. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to scoop her into his arms and kiss her.

Bram scolded himself. He needed to get his wits about him. She was married, and even if her husband was a bloody bastard, he would not dishonor Lara by causing her to break her vows. He made a pledge to himself that he would push these feelings aside and keep his promise to her to escort her home; and for his sake, the sooner the better.

As they left the town, the terrain changed dramatically. The ground became uneven and rocky, causing the horse to slow its pace as they rode up the steep hillside. Lara heard the sound of gravel and rocks as they tumbled down the cliff behind them. Once they reached the top of the hill, Lara looked out over the land. It was magnificent.

Spreading before her were rolling hills and high mountains, lush greenery and a dark dense forest as far as she could see, known by many as the Black Forest. It was rumored that not only was the forest home to a gang of highwaymen, but that it was haunted as well. Not many dared to enter the woods from the south. Most Lowlanders traveled around the forest to reach the northern territory. In the center of the Black Forest was Loch Lomond. Once they reached the loch they would be safely in Highland territory.

A chill shook Lara to her core as they approached the mouth of the forest. It was as dark as the night sky, with not a speck of light shining through the heavily leaved branches overhead.

“Will we need to camp in there tonight?” she asked, feeling chill bumps creep up her arm as they approached the darkness.

“Aye. But I ken what path to take to stay away from unwanted visitors that may be lurking in these woods. Dinna worry, lass,” he said as he held her tighter in his arms.

Holding her so close to his body made it much more difficult to keep his hands from wandering. Bram stirred in the saddle as he immensely enjoyed the feeling of her backside against his front.

“But the howls in the distance - are ye no’ afraid?”

“They be only wolves, lass. Nothing more.”

“Do ye no’ believe in the legends of these woods?”

Bram chuckled.

“Lass, who do ye think the legends were meant to scare? ‘Twas the Highlanders who told those stories, to keep enemies wary of entering these woods.”

His confidence gave Lara a little sense of relief but not enough to calm her completely. She kept her eyes trained firmly on their surroundings.

“Honestly, lass, there is nay a thing to worry about. We will rest once we reach Loch Lomond.”

Cresting the last wooded hill, the sight of Loch Lomond at the bottom of the valley was far more beautiful than Lara had imagined. The sunlight twinkled off the surface of the water like tiny stars fallen to earth. As they reached the loch, they dismounted and rested for a short while, as Bram had promised.

The hot sun beat down on them. Lara did not recall a hotter summer than this, and there was no evidence that rain had fallen in weeks. The grass beneath them was dry and beginning to brown. Within the hour, they once again continued their journey to Stearns Castle.

Stearns Castle was built on the highest point of a hill that overlooked the village. Its outer stone walls stood tall and intimidating, easily twenty or thirty feet high, and looked as if they could touch the clouds. Lacking windows, the castle looked forbidding.

As they approached the gate, a guard stopped them from entering. When the guard turned and looked at Lara he almost lost his footing. His jaw slightly fell open and his gaze looked dazed, as if someone had hit him over the head. Without hesitation, the guard opened the gates and allowed them entry.

“Mistress? What are ye doing here, my lady?” the guard asked.

“Adrian, I must insist on speaking with my father. Where is he? My husband has done something terrible.”

“I am afraid, my lady, that yer father is no’ here. He has traveled with John to Bergen.”

“Bergen, Norway?” Lara raised her voice puzzled why her father would have traveled so far.

“Aye, my lady.”

Lara struggled to offer him a friendly smile. Without her father, she knew not what to do. If Dermot learned she had returned home, he would surely come for her. Suddenly, she felt a bout of nausea come over her.

Bram quietly walked up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She turned a solemn face to him. She did not want to cry. Not now. Not ever. She was glad that he did not show her pity. Instead, his slight smile lifted her spirits. His eyes were the color of honey, a light amber shade. She mused that she hadn’t noticed them before. They reminded her of a warm autumn day, just as the leaves began to turn gold.

“Thank ye fer bringing me home, Bram.”

“Lara, I promised ye my protection and Highlanders dinna break our promises,” Bram curled his lip and gave her a genuine smile.

“I suppose ye will be leaving now?” she asked. Sadness crept inside her heart at having to say goodbye. There was so much more she wanted to learn about him. They had shared an experience few others survived. Their acquaintance was short, but their bond was strong.

“Aye.”

“I shall never forget ye and yer kindness,” Lara said as she stepped up on the tips of her toes and softly planted a kiss to his rough cheek. “God speed,” she whispered in his ear before lowering her feet back to the ground.

Bram turned to mount his horse. Lara wanted to ask him to stay, to at least rest for a night, but she did not.

Just as he mounted the horse, a woman called out to them from a distance. Hiking up her dress, she ran towards them at a full sprint. As the woman came closer, her features became more distinct. She was an older woman, dressed in a plain brown dress covered by a white linen apron tied around her plump waist. Her grey hair was tightly braided except for a few loose tendrils that flew in the wind. As she drew closer, Lara recognized the old woman. It was Moira, her clan’s head cook.

Breathlessly, Moira cried out, “My lady, my lady!”

Lara veered to face her and greet the old woman.

“Moira, what is it?” Lara asked.

With no response, Moira swung her arms around Lara. Lara squeezed her equally as tight. Stepping out of her embrace, Lara looked into the old woman’s eyes. She had aged since Lara had last seen her. Deep wrinkles creased across her forehead and her eye lids sagged as if she had not slept in a month.

“Oh be gone wit ye, ye auld brute,” Moira snapped at the guard, as if he was intruding on a private conversation. “Oh, my lady. Tis good to see ye. Ach, dinna they feed her at that castle? Ye are skin and bones!”

“Tis a long and dreadful story, Moira. But I must ask. Do ye ken when my father is expected to return?”

“I dinna ken.” Lara’s look of despair caused Moira to frown. “I’m sorry lass, but in order to see him, I’m afraid ye would have to travel to Norway; a ridiculous notion. Nay, ye will stay right here and wait fer him to return. I’ll no’ have ye traveling that far by yerself to find him.” Moira said with a comforting pat.

“But Moira, I must go. I must speak to him. Why has he traveled so far?”

Moira eyed Bram suspiciously.

“Ye can trust him, Moira,” Lara reassured her.

“My lady, strange things have happened since ye left. If yer father kenned I ken anything of his plans he would have strung me up from the gallows.”

“Whatever ye ken Moira, I promise yer secret is safe wit’ me,” Lara promised.

Moira looked around, making sure no one could hear what she was about to reveal.

“I was cleaning up the stairs as I usually do. Yer father and John were in the library talking. I overhead ‘em. I dinna go eavesdropping deliberately, ye ken. They said that the King of Norway was dying; said that because he has nay any heirs that there is nay one to take the throne but his brother whom he had been feuding. Yer father plans to propose John as his vassal to take the throne.”

“Vassal?”

“Aye. They plan to claim John as his cousin. Oh, my lady, if the people of Norway ken they were tricked, the country would be in turmoil. The war between Norway and Denmark could then cause war with England and France and that be nay good fer any of us.”  

Bram thought about Lara’s predicament and what this would mean for Scotland.

“I will take ye,” he offered

“What?” Lara turned and asked as if she had not heard him.

“I will take ye to Norway to see yer father. I have some distant relatives there on my Mam’s side.”

“Bram, we can nay go to Norway. Moira is right. ‘Tis an insane idea. Bergen is a royal castle. We cannae just walk into the gates and demand an audience.”

Bram smiled at her, “Aye lass, we can.”

Lara felt perplexed. She paced back and forth, her brow rising and falling. Bram and Moira both patiently waited until Lara stopped and looked from one to the other.

“King! John to be king! He has nay royal blood and he is no’ even Norwegian.”

“I dinna ken what I can say, my lady,” Moira replied. 

“Then there is only one thing I can do. We will go to Norway and seek my father. Perhaps all will be revealed once I arrive.”

“God be wit ye both,” Moira said, holding onto Lara’s hand.

Bram knew that their route would take them further east, to the city of Aberdeen, the nearest port. From there, they would travel by boat across the sea and arrive in Norway a few days later.

“Lass, we have a long journey ahead of us. We should leave now, if ye truly wish to go,” Bram suggested.

Lara turned and hugged Moira one last time. Bram knew there were no easy roads to take north to Aberdeen, nor were they safe. They would be traveling through rough terrain and alongside steep hills, but his worst fear was crossing paths with the English.