Highland Burn (5 page)

As he picked up his tunic from the floor and tugged it on, he paused for a moment and glanced over at the auburn-haired beauty. She looked so innocent with her big deep blue eyes pinning him from over the top of a black fur. God’s wounds! She was shaking. He’d frightened her.

As he watched the lass cowering under the fur, his dragon stirred, reminding him he needed to get out of here and fast, for temptation lay right before him, beckoning him. Abigale had encountered enough of the Bogeyman for one night.

With his boots in hand he turned and quit the bedchamber leaving Abigale to rest.

Chapter 4

The dragon teaches you that if you want to climb high you have to do it against the wind. ~ Chinese Proverb

The next morning James busied himself preparing their horses for the long ride back home to Black Stone on the Hill. All morning long he’d tried to erase the vision of Abigale lifting her veil and revealing the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. Why did she have to be the beautiful lass from the loch? Why did she have to be Abigale Bruce? It would be much easier to stay away from her if the lass had been an ugly hag, but she was far from a hag. Beauty like an angel, grace like a queen, and charm that could drive a man daft. How was he supposed to stay away when the lass tempted his willpower in such a way even he did not understand it?

I receive ye as mine.
The words he’d uttered last eve haunted him.

“God’s wounds.”

He did not want to take a wife. Being a Guardian of Scotland, Dragonkine, there was only room for one woman in his life and it was Lady Scotland. Gut-wrenching reality hit… how was he going to tell Abigale about his other half? “Och lass, I forgot to tell ye, I’m a dragon and I spit fire.” That should go over well. Nay, he would make sure Abigale never knew. Besides she wouldn’t be staying long.

Agreeing to marry the king’s daughter brought more bother to him than he bargained for, but then again the king of Scotland, Robert Bruce, had a sly way of sweetening the deal. Land. Even though James’s home was in Angus, he did not own the land, so it was a perfect opportunity to set the stakes high. A bountiful dowry no man nor dragon could turn down.

After James was knighted a knight banneret on the battlefield; that was when the king had laid it on him.

“James, we have business to discuss.” Robert Bruce slapped James on the shoulder and continued to walk. The king was one who waited for no one.

James peered up from the trencher piled high with vegetables and meats. No amount of hunger could stop his curiosity. Quickly he wiped his mouth, left the table and caught up with King Robert.

They made their way up to the king’s solar. The king paced slowly, deep in thought in front of the hearth, with his hands behind his back. “Have ye gathered enough men in support of yer banner?” King Robert asked.

“Aye, yer Grace, enough to lead yer next quest.”

“Verra good. Ye see, James, my next quest is verra special to me. I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure no one knows about it.”

James stood tall, his stance confident. Intrigued by what King Robert was saying he listened intently.

“I am well prepared to pay ye generously for yer service, if ye shall agree to my terms.”

“Service? Yer Grace, I already serve ye and ye have been more than generous to me.”

“And ye have served me well.” King Robert walked to his wooden desk, sat down and steepled his fingers. “I've always considered ye like a son. Yer father, God rest his soul, and me go way back. He would be proud of ye.”

That couldn’t be farther from the truth. How could a father approve of the vindictive ways his son conducted warfare or the way he dealt out brutality to those who stood in his way? Nay, far from proud his father would be, James thought.

“What of this quest ye seek?” James asked

Robert tapped his steepled fingers on his bearded chin. “I have someone verra precious to me, Abigale my daughter. I’ve arranged for her to be married.”

James knew the king would only trust him and his men at arms to escort the princess of Scotland. This made perfectly good sense, but knowing the king as well as he did he still waited cautiously for his request.

“I’ve arranged for ye to make leave for Castle Douglas in the morn. There ye will marry my daughter.”

The room started to spin and the air in his lungs seized. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and his palms went cold. Had the king gone daft? Robert Bruce knew what he was, yet he was willing to marry his daughter off to a dragon. “God’s Teeth!" James wiped the sweat streaking down from his temple. He began to pace the small space in front of the king’s desk.

Finally James gathered his thoughts before he did something daft himself like run down to the gallows and hang himself.

“Yer Grace, with all due respect, I can no marry yer daughter.”

“’Tis a shame.” Bruce paused and reached inside his desk drawer. He began to uncoil a scroll that appeared to have a map on it. “Angus is such a beautiful piece of land, tucked in between two huge lochs.”

The king paused for a moment. “Tell me, James, how much coin do the oat fields bring in? Profitable, I assume?”

“Aye.” James had been defeated. There was no way around it. The king always got what he wanted, one way or another. Also, there was that feeling of gratitude gnawing in his gut. He had to marry the king’s daughter, for he owed a debt.

“So, prepare for travel?” Bruce asked.

“Aye.”

“Good. This makes me a happy man.” Then he began signing land documents over to James.

A generous and inviting dowry was too enticing to turn down. Marrying Abigale gained him not only Angus, but Bothwell Castle by the River Clyde in South Lanarkshire as well. But this newly owned land did not change the fact that James did not want a wife. But, with orders to take the princess to the safety of Angus and far away from the lowlands, James had to wonder if King Robert had other motives as well.
Why does he remove me from the battlefield? Send me to the Highlands to live the mundane life of a clan chief?
God’s Teeth! Am I more valuable behind a desk?

Nay, he was one of the seven Guardians of Scotland, chosen to defend and protect Scotland like his fellow Dragonkine warriors. Plus his mind was sharp when it came to strategizing attacks, the best there was. The king could not afford to lose him on the battlefield.

Regardless of Robert’s reasoning, he now had a wife. “A wife.” He spat. A forceful hoof stomp and aggravated tail swish let James know he had tightened his saddle a little snug for his horse’s liking. He rubbed his black mare on her chest. “Sorry, Lassie.”

James patted the mare on her hindquarters as he walked behind her making his way toward the stable’s entrance. He leaned his massive shoulder against the door frame of the stable and looked over at Castle Douglas. Rolling green hills now surrounded his land. He remembered a time when the castle was not so pleasant. It had been seized by English filth.

His family was outside the bailey’s protective wooden staked wall, just far enough away from the brutal massacre of the Clan Douglas men. No familiar war cries were left. Only the blood-curdling sounds of the wounded being slain by the English army could be heard. Their clan had been on the verge of being defeated. Sir William, James's father and clan chief, had to make a decision and fast. The English army had fought hard and were closing in on them. An English victory for certain.

Sir William looked down, deeply, into his young son’s eyes. A warrior-worn face bloodied and swollen, yet he was still a man in charge. “Son, do no fret or shed tears for me,” Sir William demanded.

“Da, I bid ye, please let me stay and fight,” wee James begged as he swiped at a fallen tear.

“Nay, Clan Douglas fought well, but the odds were against us. We have lost too many good men today. I must do what’s right for our people.”

James shook his head and tightened his fists. “Nay, we can still fight. This is our home.”

Sir William bent down in front of his son and placed his hands on his shoulders. It was difficult for James to see his father this way; a broken man desperate to keep his family together. James raged inside just like the bloody war raging inside the walls of Castle Douglas.

“James, listen to me. Ye are the man of the family now.” A sob from his wife caught his father’s attention. William paused and looked up at her. His beautiful wife had fought so hard to hold back her tears but had failed. Her body trembled as she covered her mouth with her shaking hand to stifle another sob. She pulled their younger son of seven years close to her.

William turned his attention to his wee James. “Ye must take care of your mother and brother now.”

Tears rushed down James’s face as he shook his head in denial. His face reddened with anger. What a task to bear for a boy no more than ten winters old.

“Ye know the plan, get to Paris and there ye will be safe. Do ye understand me, lad?” Sir William commanded.

James’s anger got the best of him. He was angry at his father for sending him away. He was angry at the English filth for ripping his family apart. He raged inside and began to erupt like a spewing volcano.

“Ye are a coward!” James exploded and began to hit his father in the chest with tiny fists. “Coward!”

William threw his arms around his raging son and hugged him tight as if he understood his son’s outrage, for he seethed just the same inside.

The metal clang of knight mail and heavy marching feet grew near. There was no time to waste. If William wanted to keep his family safe he needed to say goodbye now. Their time together had come to an end.

Sir William let go of his son. James took a few steps back and stared at his father. No words were spoken between the two of them.

James watched his mother cry convulsively as she clung to the broken man. His little brother stood between his parents as if they were his shelter from this terrible nightmare. James’s vision blurred and time slowed to a crawl. He looked around at the mayhem of bloodied warriors fighting and the destruction they left behind. Forever this day would be branded into his memories. He vowed he would come home and avenge his family’s name.

William let go of his wife and walked over to a young Robert Bruce. He trusted only one man with his family and Robert, with his English connections, was the one who could get his family safely to Paris.

William clasped his hand on Robert’s shoulder, “Bruce, ye make damn sure they’re on that boat to Paris. Understood?"

“Aye.”

James watched his father as he turned to face him. Standing tall, he took one last tender look at his family huddled together, tears streaking their faces. James knew this was his father’s way of saying their final goodbye.

William nodded to Robert. “God speed, my friend.”

With the last bit of pride William had he stood tall and smiled at his wife. Like a man on a mission he turned, unleashed his sword and ran back to the battle as he yelled one last war cry. “A Douglas! A Douglas!” As God was his witness he would take down a few more Sassenach filth before he surrendered his home.

James took a deep breath as he felt a tear threaten to fall. He would take his last breath slaying the English for taking everything from him. His father, his land, and his mother. His mother never got over losing his father. Some said she died of the plague, but he knew better; she died of a broken heart.

When James had returned to Scotland, several summers ago, he reclaimed his home from the English and avenged his family’s name. As his eyes roamed to the west side of Castle Douglas, charred stone reminded him of that night. He and his force of three massive dragons beheaded the English garrison, torched them and decapitated their horses. It was the first time he had unleashed the wrath of his dragon, and he felt no remorse for the English scum. Even today, when the wind blew just right, the smell of burning flesh could still be detected.

He sent a message that day. From then on, he was known as the Black Douglas, the Bogeyman.

A soft female voice came from the rear of the stable and claimed his attention.

~~~~~

“Good Morn, Fergus.” Abigale greeted her fine steed.

The brilliant white steed let out a welcoming nicker as Abigale approached.

“I’ve a surprise for ye,” Abigale teased. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a juicy red apple.

Ears pricked in her direction, he bobbed his head up and down as if he approved of her surprise.

Abigale offered the apple and held onto it as he took a bite. She found Fergus’s favorite spot to be scratched, right between his ears, and gave him a good scratch.

“Ah, Fergus, what are we going to do?” Abigale sighed as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

After last eve’s performance, Abigale had pondered most of the morning away as she ate stale oatcakes and picked at her black pudding. James had never returned, leaving her to a peaceful night’s rest. Why had he showed her mercy? He was her husband now; certainly he had the right to bed his wife.

“That really is some kind of horse ye have.”

Abigale jumped, surprised to find she wasn’t alone. James was leaning his shoulder up against the stall with his arms crossed. “Ye frightened me.” She held her hand over her chest to calm herself. “How long have ye been there… watching me?”