Highland Daydreams (5 page)

Lara awoke after the sun was already high in the sky. Sunlight filtered in through the open curtains like seams of gold. She could feel the daylight on her skin. Her eyes had not seen sunlight in weeks and they were stung by its brightness. Stretching out her arms, she rolled over her bed of blankets and sat upright.

Following a long-winded yawn, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and looked around the small living quarters. In the middle of the room stood a very tall and husky grey-haired man staring down at her with two mugs in his hands. Lara could feel her body stiffen with nervousness. Like a scared rabbit darting for cover, Lara grabbed onto the blanket and threw it over her shoulders like a shield hoping it would offer her some protection. Lara’s eyes darted back and forth between the man and Rowena who was sitting down at a table kneading dough at the far end of the room, unaware of their interaction. Nervously, her grip on the blanket tightened.

“Good afternoon to ye, lass,” the man cheerfully greeted.

“A...Afternoon?” Lara stuttered.

Lara knew that she had been completely exhausted but never would have dreamed that she would sleep so late in the day. Had they been watching her sleep? Lara could feel her cheeks heat and no doubt stain dark crimson in color.

The man smirked and let out a soft huff. Lara did not at all see the amusement in furthering her humiliation.

“Well my dearest wife, I will go check on the lad out in the barn while ye attend to the lassie,” the man said as he kissed Rowena on the cheek and walked out the front door.

“That be my husband, Innes. Well now that ye are finally awake, why dinna ye tell me why ye are so far from home?” Rowena asked, as she continued flattening and rolling the ball of dough in her hands.

“How do ye ken I am far from my home?” Lara shakily asked, worried that Rowena had recognized her or perhaps knew that she had escaped from the English dungeon.

“Because ye are here and no’ there,” she replied, looking at Lara from underneath her long lashes.

Lara could see the suspicion in Rowena’s eyes but pretended not to notice. As Lara stood up from the floor, she loosened the blanket around her, allowing it to drop to the floor. Rowena gasped.

“Good heavens child, what is that ye got on? Ye look like ye rolled around in the dirt wit’ the pigs.”

Lara rubbed her hands up and down her arms, not sure how to respond. She knew her appearance must look dreadful to the woman. The straps of her dress barely clung to her shoulders and the skirt was tattered. Her hair, which normally hung down in soft feathery layers was now disheveled, in knots, and coated in dirt.

Lara did not wish to lie to Rowena, but neither could she bring herself to tell the truth.

“I have been traveling for many days now and I lost my belongings along the way.”

“Dinna ye worry lass, I may have a gown ye can wear,” she said as she stood and walked over to Lara. “Follow me.”

Lara gratefully followed her into the next room. The small chamber had a bed barely big enough for two and a small wooden chest. The walls were bare other than cobwebs and a year’s worth of dust. In the corner, a roaring fire crackled in the fireplace. Murmuring to herself, Rowena dug through a pile of clothing and pulled out a brown wool dress and a white chemise.

“Ah, this will do. It is no’ a fancy dress but anything is better than what ye got on,” Rowena said as she laid it onto the bed. “I will go and fetch a few buckets of water I have heating so ye can wash.”

Lara rejoiced over the thought of washing her face and hair. She could barely contain her excitement, but managed to keep a guarded and calm demeanor. Shortly after, Rowena came back into the room with two buckets of steaming water and emptied them into a shallow tub.

“Unless ye have further need of me, I will leave ye to wash.”

“Nay, I need nothing else. Thank you, Rowena.”

Lara began removing her once beautiful green gown and let it fall to the floor. It would now serve well as a rag. Anxiously, Lara dipped her feet into the hot water, one by one, and sank down into the tub. Lara looked down at the bruises that stained her body; reminders of what she had endured. She scrubbed herself thoroughly, hoping and wishing she could scrub them away, but the dark purple and blue marks remained. Unwanted tears escaped her eyes. She swore to herself that once she reached home no man would ever lay a hand on her again. As for her husband, her mind went through various scenarios as to how she would get her revenge, each one ending with him taking his last breath.

As soon as she had finished washing her hair, Lara donned the dress Rowena had left on the bed. It hung awkwardly off her shoulders; several sizes too large. Finding a ball of twine on the floor, Lara began to unravel it and wrapped it around her thin waist. Biting off one end at the perfect length, she tied the dress in place. She sat down next to the fire and used the towel to dry her hair. She was quick about it, anxious to leave.

Stepping back into the room, Rowena smiled.

“Oh, ye look verra fine lass, now that yer washed. The dress is a wee bit big but I am no’ longer a young lass.”

“It will do just fine. Thank ye,” Lara replied, feeling renewed and refreshed.

“I best get a start on the day. When ye are done, come join me in the kitchen.”

Lara nodded her head. She was grateful for Rowena’s kindness, but would rather be on her way.
But to where?
She feared that if she returned home her father would send her back to her husband. If that happened, she was certain that Dermot would kill her, for he had no use for his defiant bride.

Lara knew that during the negotiations to unite their clans, Dermot had been furious that his father made the decision to unite the clans. After years of feuds, Dermot’s hatred for the Fergussons was well known, and he protested the marriage. He was in love with another and insisted that he would deny his birthright as future Laird of Castle Foley if necessary to avoid marriage to Lara. But after he learned of the Fergusson clan’s supposed “secret treasure”, he became eager to marry Lara; too eager for her liking
.
 
His sudden change of heart disturbed her, but he had been a very persuasive suitor.

She still felt fury deep in the pit of her stomach for allowing Dermot to seduce her with words of passion and promises. He had given her hope for the future of her clan, and promised a good marriage. It was not until after their vows were spoken and before they even shared the marital bed, that he unmasked his true nature and motives.

He told her he had learned of a treasure, supposedly acquired by her father, and hoped to claim this treasure once they were married. Lara had never believed such treasure truly existed for no one had ever laid eyes upon it and only few knew of it. She recalled a moment when she was young, eavesdropping on her father, she’d heard about how he came to acquire it, but the details now were fuzzy. All Lara remembered hearing was that the treasure was a gift from a Norse King.

Lara did all she could to convince Dermot that it was merely a rumor and that no treasure existed. But her husband called her a liar and accused her of deceit. He began avoiding her, for which she was grateful. She despised him and fought him every time he tried to touch her. She would rather die a thousand deaths or be beaten beyond recognition before succumbing to him. He may have been her husband, but she refused to give him her maidenhood willingly.

  Lara’s mind wandered to a time when things were pleasant. When her mother, Elsa, was alive and her father was not the bitter man he became after Elsa’s death. Since the day her mother passed, her father had seemed to care little for Lara’s happiness and focused solely on her brother John. He’d pushed John into training longer and studying harder, obsessed with preparing John to one day be Laird of their clan. But grief alone did not explain her father’s sudden change in behavior.

Lara shook her head, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. She needed to think towards the future and how to expose Dermot for the treacherous man he was.

Lara stared into the flames. Her thoughts returned to the past day, then to Bram. She was anxious to see how he fared this day. Mayhap it was his kindness for helping her find shelter for the night, or perhaps it was because they shared an unspeakable bond as prisoners of war, but her thoughts lingered on him. She would at least thank him for his generosity.

Once they had secured the last plank, Bram followed Innes down the ladder and headed towards the barn door to feed the horses. Grabbing onto an armful of hay, Bram carried it to the stalls. While the horses ate, he brushed their manes. The smaller of the two reminded him of a spirited young filly who was sired by his own horse. She was a beauty; light grey with white stockings. The mare restlessly kicked the back of her stall refusing to eat the fresh hay.

“Awe, dinna mind that one. She willnae eat while yer watching her. Free spirit that one is. Makes her untrainable and useless. I thought about selling her but I’d make better use of her using her hide as a covering to keep my arse warm,” Innes joked.

Bram looked back to the fiery mare and smirked.

“I think ye have worked enough and are deserving of a fine meal,” Innes exclaimed.

“Thank ye. I will join ye and yer gracious wife in a moment. I have still not yet finished wit the horses.”

“Verra well,” Innes said and walked back toward the house.

As Bram approached the black steed he had stolen, he was taken aback by what he discovered. Alongside the saddle bags were a broadsword and a pouch full of coin. Bram guessed that the men they had stolen the horse from were either wealthy travelers or a band of raiders who’d just filled their coffers. Either way, luck had been with him this day and the stars could not have aligned more perfectly. The cloak of ensuing darkness concealed the bags and Bram did not think to look about him as they were in dire need to escape quickly.

Strapping the small pouch to his belt, he headed towards the croft. His goal was to gather Lara and travel north to Dumfries. There, he could gather supplies for their journey to Lara’s home and seek safe passage through the lowlands.  

Lara quietly began slicing a loaf of bread while she listened to Rowena and Innes talking at the table. Mundane kitchen tasks were not something Lara was used to doing. At Stearns Castle, Lara was taught to weave and sew but nothing more. She never learned to read or write as it was against the church’s teachings and forbidden by her father. It was her brother, John, who had taught her basic things such as how to use a dirk and wield a sword, even though Lara’s thin arms could barely hold the weight of a sword over her head. But even her brother had been amazed by her way with a dagger.

John had been her only friend until he reached the age of ten and four and their father forced him to begin pursing his studies and training. She believed that his responsibilities to the clan became a heavy burden on him though he never shared his feelings towards it.

Lara’s ears perked up when Innes mentioned Bram. She knew not why her heart quickened at the sound of his name or why she felt anxious to see him. But her curiosity got the better of her, causing her to lean towards them to get a better listen.         

“The lad be doing a fine job this morning but something tells me that he is no’ a farmhand,” Innes said to his wife.