Highland Daydreams (7 page)

When they finally reached Dumfries, the hour was late. Lara’s thighs and bottom burned from the hours spent in the saddle and she felt exhausted.

“May I help ye down, lass?” Bram asked, holding his arms up to her.

Lara smiled down at him for his chivalry. She swung her leg over the saddle and took him by the hand as she slid down the side of the horse.

“Thank ye,” she said and curtsied.

But when she took a step, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. Sitting for so long on the saddle had caused her legs to go weak and turned her backside numb.

“Are ye alright, lass?” Bram asked, kneeling down beside her.

“Aye,” she responded with a crooked smile, and allowed Bram to help her back to her feet.

With Lara in his arms, Bram could not help noticing how weightless she felt even wearing the baggy wool dress. There was no doubt he was besotted with her, but she was no wench. This close, he could smell the lavender in her hair and the softness of her skin as he cradled her in his arms. As he held her, his manhood grew, but he desperately tried to ignore it.

Once she was steady on her feet, he released her but her body remained close to his. He wanted to think that she felt comfort there, but just as he thought it, she stepped back. He searched her eyes, looking to see if she shared his desire, but they looked tired, with dark circles shadowing the lower lids.

“Thank ye,” she said, holding his gaze.

“Yer welcome.”

Along the thoroughfare were several shops and merchant stalls filled with food, fabrics and pottery. The town was bustling with shoppers purchasing their goods.

As they browsed the stalls of merchants, a woman stepped out in front of Bram. Wearing a tightly fitted red gown with a low neckline, she quickly caught his attention. The woman gave him a mischievous smile but when she looked at Lara her smile faded.

“That be a fine medallion you wear around your neck. Ye can fetch a mighty price for that piece of silver,” the woman said in a thick French accent, eyeing the medallion that hung low around Bram’s neck.

He had kept it secured in the lining of his kilt while imprisoned so that the guards knew not who he was or to which clan he belonged. But now, free from danger, he wore it proudly.

“Aye, and what would ye offer fer it?” Bram asked, curious to know what worth it had to the woman.

“If it is coin you seek I can offer you plenty, or maybe the company of a warm bed for a prize piece like that one,” the woman responded, placing a finger on his forearm, slowly drawing it up and down. Displaying a devilish smile, she continued, “A trade, perhaps?”

Bram met her gaze. Her regard showed that she was quite persistent. He stepped closer so that he was out of earshot of Lara.

“What sort of a trade?” he curiously asked.

Bram’s instinct told him not to trust the woman but his curiosity got the better of him. And he had to admit that under normal circumstances, the voluptuous woman was exactly the type who often warmed his bed.

Squeezing his upper arm, she pulled him closer. She had the sweet smell of lilac and Bram could not stop his eyes from tracing down her neckline and dwelling on her well-exposed bosom. She stepped up on her toes so that her head was near his. He could feel her breath against his ear.

She whispered, “Information.”

Information?
He pondered. What sort of information would this harlot have that he could possibly want? Or need?

“What use would that do me?” he asked. “I have nay need for useless words, woman. But for a price I would be willing to sell ye the medallion.”

The woman squinted as if she struggled with her choices. Taking a deep breath, she puffed it all out at once and nodded.

“Well, as I am feeling most generous today, I shall give you both,” she said.

Shifting to his side and wrapping her arm around his, the woman directed him away from the crowd and between two of the shops. Slowly, the woman spoke, articulating each word as if she needed to choose them carefully. Her eyes fixed on Lara.

“You are in grave danger with that chit accompanying you.”

“What sort of danger?”

“If she is the lass I believe her to be, there were men here in the village searching for her. But I can say no more. I do not know who they were. These walls are thin and ears are everywhere. You must take her and be gone from this place.”

Bram did not know whether or not to believe her allegations. The little information she gave him caused his mind to race with a hundred unanswered questions. Bram silently removed his medallion and handed it over to the woman. It made no difference to him if the woman had this medallion or not; he had two others at home.

The woman snatched it greedily and pulled out a small leather pouch kept in the bosom of her dress. Handing the bag to Bram, she turned and quickly made her way down the passageway until the darkness swallowed her whole.

“Is something wrong?” Lara asked.

“Nay lass, the woman was just talking nonsense,” he replied. He thought it best to keep what the woman had said to himself, for now. But first, he needed Lara to tell him exactly who she was and why the English had imprisoned her.

At the end of the market square, Bram spotted a tavern tucked away far from the fray where they could have a meal without attracting unwanted attention.  Entering through the door, the tavern was lively - full of music and energy. The booming sound of men’s laughter could be heard echoing off the stone walls, while drunken dancers twirled around, their ale splashing out of their mugs and onto the floor. There was not a single table or chair that was not occupied. Bram took out a few coins from his pouch.

Slipping the coins into Lara’s hand, he whispered, “Stay here and dinna go anywhere.

“Where are ye going?” Lara asked loudly over the noise of the crowd.

Bram could sense her worry. But his instinct told him that it was best to not bring her to Montrose keep. If Lara was in some sort of danger, he did not know what to expect from Stephen. 

“I am off to Montrose. I will no’ be long. I think it is best if I go alone. I have no’ seen Laird Stephen in many years’ time and I dinna ken where his allegiance lies. I may no’ be able to protect ye while I am there. It is best that ye stay here and wait fer my return.”

Even though Bram was unsure whether he should leave Lara here, he wanted to take the warning he’d received in the market seriously. He knew that at least one greedy person knew her whereabouts and who she might be.  He did not want to take the chance of more people discovering until he knew the complete situation.

“I thought ye said that he was a friend. Can ye no’ trust him?”

“Aye, he has been a good friend, but he would stick a knife in yer back to save his own arse if given the choice.”

“What shall I do, if the English come, or if I need to find ye?” Lara asked in a trembling voice.

“Dinna worry lass. Just stay here within the market. Dinna venture off too far and ye will be fine. I have given ye enough coin if ye want to buy something in the market. I will be back soon,” he said as he began to turn towards the door. Just as he turned, he looked back at her and said, “And lass, when I return there are some questions that are in need of answering. I can no’ help ye if ye are keeping secrets from me.”

Without allowing her the time to explain or ask him to what he referred, Bram walked away. Like a startled deer, Lara froze. She fidgeted with her hands as she wondered what secrets he could have been talking about. She stood with her mouth agape, but it was as if he’d taken her voice with him. She had hoped that he would just escort her to Fergusson land without questions. She wrung her hands together, dreading their next encounter.

Bram followed the river several miles south until he reached the gates of Montrose Castle. With the sun well below the horizon, the murky water within the castle’s moat looked ominous. The night air was darkened by a veil of heavy cloud that hovered between him and his final destination. Bram dismounted, strapping his sword to his side. As Bram approached the castle, he could see light flickering from a dim lantern at the top of the tower and guards pacing back and forth between the turrets.

“State yer business or be gone wit’ ye,” a guard called out from a small door of the gatehouse.

“My name is Bram MacKinnon. I wish to have an audience with the Laird of this keep.”

“Our Laird does no’ wish to see any visitors today. Come back tomorrow and ye can make yer request then.”

“I’m afraid that tomorrow may be too late. It is of great importance that I see him. If ye will only give him my name,” Bram continued but the guard quickly interrupted.

“Yer name is of nay importance. It is the dead of night and we have our orders. None shall pass these gates without prior notice.”

“I have visited here before. Montrose used to be friendly and welcomed travelers. Is there a reason why it is nay that way any longer?”

“Aye. But I dinna see why I need to tell ye about it,” The guard replied and turned up his mouse-like nose.

As silence passed between them, Bram grew more impatient with the guard. He knew that he needed to press the guard harder into opening the gates for him. Laird Stephen was the only man in the lowlands that held a high enough position to offer him the services he needed. Bram knew that without supplies, he would never be able to journey all the way to the Highlands before winter weather came upon him.  

“If ye refuse to allow me entrance ye can be certain that the English will be the ones barging in these gates, for they may only be a few days ride from here.”

The guard looked at him strangely. His voice changed from a loud growl to a sullen tone as he acknowledged the urgency of the situation.

“I will summon our Laird. Remove yer weapons and I will open the gate.”

Bram did as he was asked and handed his sword to the guard. He followed him to the entrance of the keep and was asked to wait in the bailey while the guard went inside to convey his message.

In the bailey, several guards kept watch at their posts. The atmosphere felt strange. This was not the Montrose Castle Bram remembered. Then again, it had been years since he stepped foot inside the castle walls. The bailey, formerly full of activity with peasants and warriors alike, was now barren except for two masons who were repairing a section of the wall that had been badly damaged. Bram now understood the reason for the increased security and the guard’s hesitation.

Behind him, a familiar voice called out his name, “Bram MacKinnon! I can no’ believe me eyes. I heard that ye were killed in battle. But here ye are.”

“Did ye really believe the English could have bested me? Ye should ken never to underestimate a MacKinnon,” Bram responded, smiling back at the man. “It is good to see ye, Max.”

Shaking the man’s hand, Bram said, “And ye as well. What happened here?”

“Ah, our castle was attacked by the English. Many of my men died in battle. It took us a good month or two to rid our lands of the English. But tell me, why have ye made such a long journey to my keep? Did yer brother send ye?”

“Nay. My brother dinna ken I survived. He must think me dead and rotting in the ground. Nay, I have come to ask ye fer yer help. I need safe passage back to the Highlands but first I must travel through the black forest towards Fergusson lands.”