Page 27 of Claimed Highland Brides

5

PERCHANCE TO MEET

A s Jamesina nipped back to the inn to change into her white cotton gown for the ceremony, she found her sisters in their chambers, twittering excitedly about it as well.

Twelve-year-old ùna jumped up and down on the bed, her auburn curls bouncing. The yellow marigolds wreathed in a circle on her head resembled a crown, glinting in the firelight. “It’s my first solstice ceremony. I dinnae ken what will happen. I think I’m a little ascairt,” she told Jamesina even as she jumped up and down.

“Dinnae be fashit. Just stay close tae me and ye shall be a’right. I wilnae let anything bad happen t’ye.”

“Oh, I ken tha’. I just meant that I dinnae ken how I’m supposed tae behave. Will I ken the words if there’s singing? I dinnae ken the dances.”

Jamesina smiled fondly at her sister. “Weel, for one thing, most of us wilnae dance. We shall follow along behind the dancers and singers. For another, the songs are fairly simple an’ easy tae follow and ye should want tae sing along.”

Fenella and Maisie came to sit on either side of the bed as ùna continued to jump in the middle. The sixteen-year-olds were just as excited as ùna but they hid it better. They smiled up at their little sister. “ùna, dinnae listen to her. We shall all dance and sing along at the festival. Ye shall come wi’ us tae the front and Jamesina can stay in the back and walk like she’s an auld lady,” they teased.

“Och! The pair o’ ye will be the death of us. Dinnae disappear in the crowd, mind.”

Fenella snorted. “As if Simon’s men would let us oot o’ their sight. They even sleep in the corridor outside our doors at night.”

“That’s because the inn is full o’ miscreants,” ùna told them. “I heard Daividh say so.”

The other three sisters laughed, putting the final touches to their gowns before covering themselves in arisaids and leaving the room. As predicted, Simon was there with three other guards to escort them first down to the tavern room for a bite of supper and then to the festival.

“Where is Daividh? Is he no joining us?” Jamesina asked Simon in low tones so her sisters could not hear.

“He went off tae see the wise-woman earlier. He hasnae returned yet. I think he shall meet us at the town square.”

“Och aye?” Jamesina swallowed her disappointment. She had thought that Daividh would come to fetch her when it was time to see Aifric. If he did not take her, she would have to seek out the wise-woman for herself. She was too curious to know what she might say not to. After everything Aifric had predicted about Fiona coming true, Jamesina wanted to hear what she had to say.

They walked slowly in the twilight as one of the guards named Duncan entertained them with stories about a doomed rider. “Ye shouldnae even try tae pass the nicht on its bonny wooded banks,” he said about a river in the north of the country where a boy set a line to fish for trout.

In spite of herself, Jamesina was drawn into the tale, anxious for the fate of the rider.

She could see in her mind’s eye the thick Mirkwoods that Duncan spoke of overlooking the river and shivered as night fell over them.

“You shouldn’t be scared, it’s only a story,” a voice said right behind her ear and she screamed aloud, whirling around to look into a familiar pair of powder-blue eyes. She was distracted from her scrutiny by the sound of drawn swords and in the blink of an eye, the man from the inn was surrounded.

“Who are ye and what d’ye want?” Simon growled.

The man raised his hands in surrender. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean any harm. I am staying at the inn and I overheard the young lady over there”— he pointed at ùna—“speak excitedly about this festival. I thought I’d tag along after you all.”

Jamesina blinked in surprise. She had not seen him in the taproom and she felt sure she would have noticed him. For one thing, he was dressed differently than the other men. By his accent, she could tell he was an outsider; likely a Sassenach.

What is he doing here ?

Neither Simon nor his men sheathed their swords.

“Why did ye scare the lass then?” Simon asked.

“I did not realize she had not noticed me.” He looked at her, his eyes twinkling. He did not seem sorry at all. “Madam, my abject apologies for scaring you…although I suspect that the story was more to blame for that than I.”

Jamesina’s heart had slowed down a bit as they spoke but at his smile, it began to speed up again. “It’s quite alright.” She raised her hand and lowered it, indicating that Simon and his men should put their swords away. “It’s alright. I have seen him at the inn. I dinnae think he means any harm.”

The man bowed. “Indeed I do not. I apologize for the intrusion.”

He made to melt into the night but to her surprise, Jamesina called after him. “Ye may walk wi’ us if ye wish rather than lurking along behind.”

“I thank you, madam. If I may, my name is Lord Delwyn Barton. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He straightened up, waiting expectantly.

Jamesina sighed, nodding to her sisters. “We are the Douglass sisters, from up at Braenaird Keep.”

Lord Delwyn bowed to them all before turning back to Jamesina as if waiting for more.

She put a hand on her chest. “I am Jamesina Douglass, that is Fenella, Maisie, and the young one ye overheard is ùna.”

Simon stepped in between them. “We should keep going, Mistress Douglass, or we shall be very late for the ceremony.”

Jamesina quirked an eyebrow at his formality but turned obediently to resume walking. Lord Delwyn fell in step beside her, leaving enough room for propriety between them. The group walked on in silence for a while.

“Please do not let me stop you from your story, sir. I was quite enjoying it as well. I haven’t had occasion to hear many Scottish tales.”

“I wasnae telling it tae ye,” Duncan said rather grumpily.

“Well, I want to hear the end too!” ùna piped up.

Everyone laughed and Duncan resumed his story of the doomed rider and how he had drowned in a stone trough after a group of Highlanders tried to save him from going in the river and meeting his fate with the kelpie that resided therein.

ùna’s hand crept into Jamesina’s as the story came to its gruesome conclusion, her eyes wide and scared as they looked up at her big sister.

“Dinnae be fashit. It wilnae happen t’ye,” Jamesina murmured softly to her.

To her surprise, the Englishman got down on his haunches so that he was level with ùna. He reached out his hand to her. “Let me see your palm,” he said.

ùna blinked at him for a moment before holding out her hand to him. Jamesina’s own hand jerked as if to stop her, and the Englishman’s eyes rose to meet hers. “I mean her no harm. Nor any of you,” he said before taking ùna’s hand in his and peering at it intently.

“Ah,” he said as if he had received some revelation. “See here, your lifeline.” He traced one of the lines on ùna’s palm with his finger, “A long one it is too. You shall live a long time. Don’t fear that the kelpie will come for you.”

Jamesina’s heart melted at his perceptiveness.

“But…what aboot my sisters?” ùna asked anxiously.

The Englishman got to his feet. “I’m quite sure that their lines are just as long as yours.”

“Longer even,” Fenella interjected.

Everybody laughed.

The party resumed walking in a much more relaxed manner. The Englishman turned to Simon, asking a question about his sword, and soon they were discussing the various differences between English and Scottish weaponry while Fenella and Maisie badgered Duncan for another story and ùna speculated to Jamesina about what the rest of the lines on her hand might mean. Jamesina was torn between listening to her sister and watching the Englishman.

He seemed very much at home in their company and she wondered truly who he might be and why he was here. Most of the English in the highlands were soldiers in her majesty’s army or merchants who tended to keep to Edinburgh and the other larger burghs. Jamesina itched to ask him questions, to know him better. She even found herself hoping, to her own mortification, that whatever the wise-woman would tell her about her fate would involve him somehow.

I am so ridiculous .

* * *

Delwyn congratulated himself on how easily he had insinuated himself in the Braenaird party. It had been a stroke of luck to find that they were staying at the same inn that he was in. He had learned of it quite by accident, having overheard the publican’s wife complain about not being able to clean the corridors outside of their rooms because of the presence of guards.

“’Tis a good thing they’re all gaeing tae the ceremony tonight or else I’d never get tae clean tha’ place.”

“Aye weel, ye ken wa’ happened tae the first Douglass lass. I expect the new laird doesnae mean tae let th’ rest o’ them oot o’ his sight until he’s made matches fae them all. I seen a queen move aboot wi’ less guards than those lasses.” The second voice laughed.

Delwyn had opened the door, nodding towards the two women before heading down the stairs, thinking hard. He made his way to the taproom, hoping to run into one of the guards. To his surprise, he saw all three sisters sitting at the long bench, a tureen of soup and a plate of bread set before them. They were surrounded by five or six heavily armed men, clearly soldiers by their demeanor. They kept a wary eye on everyone in the taproom even as the girls ate and chatted with each other as nonchalantly as if they were in their own hall.

Delwyn could see no opening to speak to any of them and so he lurked in the corridor, listening to their talk, the youngest one speaking clearly and excitedly about their coming excursion. He ran back to his room and snagged his cloak, before lurking in the courtyard as he waited for them to emerge from the inn.

He walked quietly after them as they left, relieved that they had opted not to take a carriage. He did not know much about the festival aside from that it involved the lighting of torches, singing, and dances. Perhaps it was some form of highland witchery. Nonetheless, it was not his problem. He could learn more about his sister’s whereabouts from these people and that was his foremost goal.

He walked a little behind the oldest girl, her auburn hair decorated with white flowers, her flowing white gown just visible below the folds of her arisaid. She walked with a slight sway to her hips, unwittingly seductive as she listened intently to the story. He could barely understand one word in three of the thick Highland brogue but he could tell it was some fell tale of men falling prey to the supernatural.

Typical Scottish superstition .

He scoffed to himself as he moved closer when he saw the girl shiver in fear. The hemline of her gown was wide and he caught just a glimpse of her bare shoulder before she pulled her arisaid back in place and it was hidden beneath the sturdy woolen shawl. He swallowed his disappointment as he opened his mouth to speak to her.