They arrived at Bor’s cottage the middle of the day, just as he’d suggested. As soon as he opened the door, a flurry of wee feet chased toward him, all pushing forward to hug Father Bor, as they called him. There were two older women with the bairns, and while one stood at the hearth, stirring a pot filled with some kind of stew, the other rushed to the door to greet the latest member of the Bor family.
“Bestla, this is Amice or Ami as I call her,” Bor said, ushering the girl forward. “She’s quite fond of Kenzie here, but she’s in desperate need of a warm bath.” He proceeded to introduce their guests and then handed the lass over to Bestla’s capable hands. The wee bairn held her arms out to Kenzie, though she never made a sound.
“Do you think ‘tis possible she cannot hear? I met someone like that once,” Kenzie said. “He could not hear or speak.”
Bor tipped his head back and forth and said, “Mayhap ‘tis possible. I once knew a couple who gave their child away because he could not speak.”
Bestla gasped, giving Bor a stern look as she handed Ami off to Kenzie. “For shame. Imagine doing such a thing to an innocent bairn.” Shaking her head and clucking her tongue, the woman continued about her task, finding a small tub out in the back and ordering the older boys to heat water and fill it when ready. All the while, Ami kept a strong grip on Kenzie, her wide eyes taking in the bustle of activity around her.
Bor waved for Loki and the others to follow him, but Fergus said, “I’ll see the horses settled, check the area with the guards.”
Loki nodded, wondering why Fergus had been acting so odd of late though he had a suspicion it had to do with a lass, but the thought faded quickly. His focus was on getting answers. Bor led them through the large cottage, indicating the small bed chamber he shared with Bestla. He then walked into the next chamber, twice the size of his and littered with small pallets, blankets, and plaids everywhere. “This is where all the bairns sleep.”
“Where do you get the coin to feed so many wee ones, Bor?” Loki asked. “I’m sure you have a garden of your own, but you have no hunters amongst you, have you?”
“Nay, no hunters, but I have much support. Many people recognize my work as necessary and are happy to share what they have. I bring sacks of grain and apples home, skeins of wool, and the women in the area are always willing to help me. You need not worry about us. We are indeed blessed.”
Kenzie hopped from one foot to the other, his usual way of indicating he had a question to ask.
“What is it, Kenzie?” Bor asked with a warm smile.
“The lad from behind the inn. Which one is he?”
Father Bor nodded. “I’ll find him for you, lad.” He moved back into the main chamber, warmed by the big hearth on the far wall. Loki followed him out, hoping the lad would be willing to talk with his son. He recalled exactly how hardened one could become from living in such harsh conditions.
“Bestla,” Bor said, “the lad from behind the inn? The sickly one. Where is he?” His gaze scanned the crew of young faces, all staring up at him.
Loki noticed one difference between these ones and the children living with Clan Grant—the lack of laughter. He did see an occasional smile, saw some lassies huddled near the hearth singing to each other, but it was a most sad arrangement. While he didn’t doubt Bor’s work brought the bairns to a better place, he still had to wonder about their happiness. He moved to the door off the back and peeked out, noticing several older lads chopping wood, or practicing with a bow and arrow.
Hellfire, he’d have to shoot a boar before he left. The children were all too thin.
“Papa!”
Kenzie’s squeal brought him back inside just in time for him to catch the lad as he sailed through the air at him. The lad clung to him like a limpet, sobbing. Loki glanced at Bor, hoping for an explanation of the lad’s sudden change in temperament.
“The lad from the inn passed on,” Bor said, his tone much less cheerful. “I thought perhaps he was too sickly to bring home, but it was worth an attempt.”
Kenzie’s tears abated for a short moment. “At least he was warm when he passed on. I thought surely I’d die in the cold some days.” He clutched his father’s tunic and whispered, “Promise me you’ll not send me back. Please, Papa? Please?”
Loki said, “I know not where you get such a foolish idea, but we’ll not be giving you away to anyone. Ever. We’d not allow you to leave, so stop that foolish thinking or you’ll make me daft from worrying about you.”
“Papa, should we not take them all home with us?”
Bor came up behind him. “And leave me alone? You’ll not do that to me. Now I understand their sadness. We’ve lost a dear lad, though we only knew him for a short time. I think we must head to Edinburgh’s market to get something special to cheer the bairns. I’d be honored to have you travel with me, Kenzie.”
Kenzie dropped to the floor and wiped his tears. “Aye, I’d like to go, Papa. May we go?”
“Aye, since we are not far. We’ll look for a gift for your mama, Kenzie.”
Just then, a wee form found her way to Kenzie, tugging on his plaid. Ami had apparently become fond of him. She was nearly unrecognizable now that her hair had been washed and her skin was scrubbed free of the dirt. Her red hair glowed in the light of the fire, and her innocent green eyes stared up at Kenzie as she held her wee hands up to him. The lad fell to the floor and she settled on his lap and plopped her thumb back in her mouth.
“You’ve found a new friend, lad,” Father Bor chuckled. “Edinburgh is less than two hours from here. We could leave on the morrow.”
“If it would please you, I’d like to leave today,” Loki said. “My wife is carrying and her time is nigh. I would like to be back before then.”
“We could go today, could we not, Father Bor?”
“Aye. How about in another hour? We’ll have a drink of ale, settle the bairns, and then leave. Will that suit you, Loki?”
Loki nodded, an odd feeling coursing through him—the anticipation that something important was about to happen, or could now be happening, at home. He couldn’t explain it, but there was no denying it either. A tug of longing pulled at him. He didn’t like to spend time away from his Bella.
They found their way to the large trestle table in the middle of the room and enjoyed a short repast. There was still no sign of Fergus, so he decided to go outside to seek him out.
When he found him, he was not tending to the horses at all, but questioning some of the young lads behind the cottage. To Loki’s surprise, Bor had followed him out of the cottage.
“Fergus, we’re headed to Edinburgh to pick up some supplies. Coming along, aye?”
Fergus spun around, but his gaze went to Bor. “Is there any chance you’ve seen a beautiful young woman with dark, wavy hair, traveling with a wee lass? They would have arrived in the area within the last moon. She was living at Lochluin Abbey, but she left to take her own cottage.”
Bor glanced from Loki to Fergus, the smile disappearing from his face. “What of the lass? Do you know her?”
“Aye,” Fergus said, his eyes growing wide with excitement. It was obvious from his expression he hadn’t expected an affirmative answer. “I met her at the abbey. I’d like to see her again.”
“I doubt she’s any more interested in you than she would be in any man.”
“Listen, I know this sounds odd, but I’d like to see if we would suit. I’m asking for the opportunity to chat with her, mayhap court her. If she sends me away, I’ll accept it.”
Bor thought for a moment before he nodded. “She’s in the cottage at the end of the ravine.”
“Many thanks, Bor,” Fergus replied, already moving in that direction. “I’ll be here when you return, Loki. You don’t need me to come along, do you?”
Loki shook his head, baffled by the exchange. Who could Fergus be seeking? How had he known she would be here? “I’ll take six guards, leave the others with you,” he said. “We shall return soon.” When they left an hour later, a strange feeling was still seeping through Loki’s pores, though he couldn’t explain it to anyone.
***
Fergus was secretly glad Loki had left for Edinburgh. This meant he would have a day or two to seek out Davina’s favor.
He feared he had become infatuated with her, but each time he relived their encounter in his mind, he knew it was more than that. There was something special about her, something special about their meeting. He let his mind drift back to it as he made his way to her cabin.
It was the day after the great battle with the Buchans, and all of the warriors were gathered on Cameron land. Fergus had gotten up early to do his duty as a protector for Clan Grant, in part because of the coming festivities. His baby brother Finlay was about to marry Alex Grant’s eldest daughter. Who would have guessed? He was thrilled for both of them and determined to do his part to make certain none of the stragglers who’d survived the battle on Buchan land would follow them here.
Jake Grant, one of the two lairds of Clan Grant, had sent a group of warriors, including Fergus and others from Clan Grant, Clan Ramsay, and Clan Cameron, to the perimeter of Cameron land to patrol for anyone who didn’t belong. The wedding would be held in haste partly to prevent word from traveling through the land. The vagabonds would be tempted by the prospect of a wedding.
Kyla Grant, the bride-to-be, didn’t know that, but no one would tell her until later.
“Split up,” Cailean MacAdam of Clan Ramsay yelled. “I want this done quickly. We’ve seen no evidence of any marauders.”
Fergus was directed toward Lochluin Abbey. He didn’t hesitate and headed in the direction of the abbey.
An hour later, he’d found nothing and was about to head back when a scream rent the air, sending him crashing through the bushes and into the nearby forest where the sound had originated.
The sight he’d come upon in the woods would always haunt him. A lass stood between two filthy men, who were laughing and tossing her back and forth between them in fun, groping her wherever they wished.
Fergus unsheathed his sword. “Step back from the lass, or I’ll cut your hands off.”
Both men spun around in surprised. “Aye, you’d like a piece of this sweet one? Well, you’ll have to wait your turn. She’s mine first. I found her.”
The lass spun around, kicking and scratching, fighting harder than anyone he’d ever seen, but there were two of them, tugging on her still, and she was overpowered.
Fergus had two choices. He could go for help, or he could risk taking both of them on at once.
His question was answered as soon as he pulled his gaze from the two bastards and caught hers. She was beautiful and scared for her life. He’d never seen that kind of expression up close. One of her attackers then made a fatal mistake.
He slapped her. She spat on the fool, something that surprised and pleased Fergus, but it wasn’t nearly enough. His sire had taught him never to raise his hand to a woman—and never to allow anyone else to do so either. The fury that built inside him knew no bounds, so he jumped off his horse and went for the bastard.
The lass’s attacker released her for a moment and reached for his sword. As soon as the man unsheathed his weapon, Fergus whipped his sword around in a power move across his body and sliced into the man’s side, forcing him to drop the weapon.
The second man ran straight at him while the lass screamed. He repositioned and brought the flat of his sword against the man’s arm, forcing him to drop his weapon mid-air. He then plunged the point of his sword straight into his belly, killing him instantly.
Fergus removed his sword, cleaning it on the bastard’s clothes. He glanced sideways just in time to catch the lass running straight into the forest, the worst direction possible. He shouted, “Nay, there could be more.”
She didn’t listen, instead running as if she were still being chased.
“I’ll not hurt you. I’ll take you where you wish to go.”
She ignored him. Blast it, but he’d have to chase her. His mother’s voice flashed through is mind. When he was younger, and a wee lassie had fallen over a big boulder, his momma had said, “Help her, Fergus. You’re bigger than she is.”
“Stop. I’ll help you! But you’re headed back into danger.” She continued to ignore him and then surprised him when she stopped short, bent over, and lifted a bairn out of a spot covered with moss. When he reached her, he stared in shock at the bairn, still sound asleep in her mother’s arms.
The lass spun around and stared at him. “You touch me or this bairn, and I’ll do all I can to hurt you.”
The fury and pain in her eyes told him she meant every word. “I believe you. I saw you fight two men by yourself, driven by something. Now I know what.” He nodded toward the sleeping babe. “To insult me by thinking I’d hurt a woman is one thing, but a wee bairn? Never.” He took a deep breath, doing his best to stop his panting. “Where are you going?”
She swiped a lone tear from her cheek. “We’re headed to the abbey. If you’d be so kind, I’d appreciate the escort, but if you’re looking for favors in return, kiss my arse.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. She stared at him wide-eyed in shock.
“Forgive me,” he said quickly. “I’ve never heard that word from a lass’s lips before. Had many lads tell me to kiss their arse, but this is a first.” To his surprise she giggled, a sound that was sweet as any he’d ever heard. “My name is Fergus.”
“You belong to Clan Grant,” she said, perusing his plaid. There was a raw edge to the words.
“Aye. You don’t approve of Clan Grant?”
“I’m Davina Buchan. Your clan just killed my sire.”
“My apologies for your loss, but…”
She tossed her hair as she spun her head to the side, staring off into the trees. “Aye, I know of all the trouble he’s caused. You need not tell me. Had he not hired de La Porte and imprisoned Kyla Grant, things could have turned out verra differently. I was in the thick of the entire episode.” Her bairn fussed a wee bit, and Davina leaned down to kiss her head.
Fergus removed his glove and reached over, running his hand over the bairn’s bare head, rubbing the wee one in a calming motion that soothed her cries, though he was as surprised as Davina was about his success. “Your daughter?”
“Aye, my beautiful daughter, Raina.”
“A wonderful motivation to kick and scratch. I applaud your strength. Now, may I escort you to the abbey?”
She glanced up at him and said, “Aye. And my thanks for your assistance with those fools.”
He took in her situation. Despite her messy hair and muddied clothing, she was still an incomparable beauty with her raven dark hair and dark eyes. “You must take care to guard yourself against attackers. A beautiful noblewoman is a rare thing to find in the forest alone.”
“I needed to protect myself from my sire’s second. ‘Tis the reason I am on the run. I did not wish to see him after the battle.”
Fergus cleared his throat, thinking about how best to give her the news, but decided to be direct. “Your sire’s second did not survive. My brother killed him in battle.”
“That pleases me. I’d still like to go to the abbey, see if the nuns will accept me.”
They started walking back toward his horse, and Fergus tried to bar her sight of the worst of the gore. When they reached his horse, he turned to face her, looking into her eyes, and asked, “May I assist you?” Once she nodded her permission, he lifted her onto his horse, her child snugly in her arms, and climbed up behind her once he’d adjusted his sword. They didn’t speak until he dismounted in front of the abbey. He reached for her, but then paused and asked that same question again. “May I assist you?”
She nodded, though he could see the uneasiness in her eyes, something that struck him as incredibly sad. He wished to wash that fear away from her forever.
Once he lifted her down, she turned to him, snuggling her daughter close to her, then nodded to him. “My thanks, Fergus, for being honorable enough to ask for my permission to touch me—and for not taking advantage of that permission to grope me elsewhere. I thank you for your escort.”
***
Davina had haunted Fergus ever since.
He’d seen her outside the abbey a few days later, and she’d waved to him, but that had been their only other encounter. How he would like to talk with her, spend time with her…
If nothing else, he wished to help her. Kyla Grant had explained everything the woman had been forced to deal with in her short life. The lass had been promised to Simon de La Porte, and her child’s father was the most renowned villain in the land of the Scots in the last decade.
Fergus had gone back to the abbey not long after, hoping to properly speak with Davina and, if all went well, express his intention to court her, but she was already gone. His other trips to Buchan and Cameron land had been spent searching for her. Now, against the odds, he’d found her.
He often felt as though his dear mother watched him from above, and something told him she had brought him here—to this place where he could finally speak with her and make his case.
After Loki left, Fergus headed toward the ravine. Would she accept his courtship?
His hands turned clammy despite the cold weather, and his heart pounded hard enough to climb up his throat. Still, he persevered and knocked on the door.
When it opened, he looked straight into the eyes of one of the most beautiful women in all the Highlands. He cleared his throat and plunged forward.
“Greetings, Davina.”