Highlanders: The Warrior and the Rose / The Forbidden Highlander / Rescued by the Highland Warrior

Juliana gasped.

Mary took her hand. “You have always been my wild little sister, but you have never been a flirt. You have kept the men away. Yet you spent the night with him.”

Juliana trembled. “He is a difficult man to resist,” she managed to answer. “Oh, Mary, are you terribly angry with me?”

“I am frightened for you,” she said. “And you did not answer me.”

Juliana began shaking her head. “How can I love him? He is the eldest son of our worst enemy. We have been at war for years and years. Hundreds of good MacDougall boys and men have died at their hands!” Falling in love with Alasdair was unthinkable.

Mary sighed. “I never expected to fall in love with William—Buchan’s third son who was intended for the church!”

“I am not in love,” Juliana said tersely.

“Did he seduce you?” Mary was incredulous.

Juliana knew how dangerous such an accusation was—especially if her brother ever heard it. “No! I wanted to be with him. Mary, I am eighteen years old. I should have been married last year, and most women would have been married years ago! I simply don’t know why I desire Alasdair, but I do.”

Mary studied her. “And what happens when we are freed? When you go home? When our brother arranges the right marriage for you?”

Juliana stiffened. She had not considered any of Mary’s questions. “I will be pleased when we are freed, and I cannot wait to have a husband,” she said, but as she spoke, she felt as if she were responding with rehearsed answers, ones her sister wished to hear. “You know I want children of my own!”

“If Alexander ever learns of your affair, he will be furious. But he will forgive you, I am certain, and I am as certain that he will kill Alasdair Og.”

Juliana shook her head as she imagined her brother and Alasdair in the worst blood feud imaginable—one fought over her innocence—or lack thereof. “I know you will never tell him.”

“Of course not! But will you be able to deceive your husband when the time comes? How can you hope to have a good marriage, when it starts with a lie?”

Juliana leapt to her feet. “I don’t know! I haven’t thought about any of this!”

Mary also stood. “I know you haven’t. I love you so, Juliana, but you are impulsive and reckless, and I am afraid for you.”

“He won’t hurt me.” She felt certain of that.

“I think you are right. He is our enemy, but he is an honorable man. Still, I am worried. You must be careful with him.”

Juliana did not understand. “What are you saying?”

“Alasdair does not strike me as a casual man.”

Mary smiled grimly, as Juliana realized that she was right. There was nothing casual about Alasdair. He was a man of careful ambition and keen intellect. He would not behave recklessly, or undertake any path lightly. His choices would be deliberate ones.

Even the choice of having an affair with the sister of his enemy.

* * *

THE NEXT FEW days passed without any major incident, as both sisters awaited word from their brother and William, to learn their response to Alasdair’s ransom demands—to learn of their fates. Of course there was little doubt that the ransoms would be paid, sooner or later. However, Alasdair had not revealed his exact demands, and neither Juliana nor Mary had dared to directly ask him.

The women were allowed to move freely about the castle, the children to play upon the beach. Lady MacDonald was an amiable hostess, sharing tales with the women and the boys about life in the isles, and including Mary and Juliana in many household tasks. Because it snowed heavily for several days, an unusual occurrence for March, everyone was kept indoors most of the time. And with such weather, it was unlikely any messenger would be able to arrive.

Alasdair gave the boys small carved horses and men, toys that kept them occupied for hours. And at night, when everyone was abed, Juliana stole into Alasdair’s room, where he was waiting impatiently for her.

It finally stopped snowing one late afternoon. Juliana stared outside her chamber window, pleased to see the gray clouds dispersing, revealing patches of blue sky. Tomorrow might be sunny.

Mary came to stand beside her. “Maybe now we will receive word from Alexander and William.”

Juliana put her arm around her. “Of course we will. I am going down to help Lady MacDonald and the maids in the kitchens. Will you come?”

Mary hesitated. “I think I am going to lie down.”

Juliana hugged her. “Rest.” In the ten days they had been held captive, Mary’s girth had obviously increased. No one could mistake that she was pregnant now.

She went downstairs. Realizing her mood was as bright as the next day promised to be, she sobered. She was beginning to feel like a guest, not a hostage, and maybe she had better remind herself that was not the case.

Then she heard Alasdair shouting.

She stiffened, as he so rarely raised his voice. But now his brother, Angus Og, was shouting back at him. What could they be arguing about? Shocked, she hurried forward, intending to end the dispute.

“Are ye a madman now?” Angus Og cried. “Or perhaps, ye think yerself immortal, like an old Celt god!” His blue eyes flashed and he stood as if braced for battle.

“I think ye speak too freely, or, mayhap, yer filled with envy!” Alasdair snapped. “Achanduin Castle is a fine stronghold!”

Juliana had been about to go inside and step between them, for she feared they might come to blows, but she paused, stunned. What did Achanduin Castle have to do with them?

“I am not jealous, Alasdair,” Angus Og warned. “I think to protect ye, ye fool, from yer own grand and blind ambition!”

“And ye have no ambition? We both ken ye’d be King of the Isles if I let ye take Islay!”

She had seen nothing but camaraderie and affection between the brothers. Her resolve became unshakable. Juliana stepped into the great room.

Both men whirled to face her. Each was flushed with anger and now, they were incredulous that she dared interrupt.

“Ye wish to speak with me now?” Alasdair demanded.

“Let her stay,” Angus Og smirked.

Juliana trembled. “I heard you speaking—shouting. How can two brothers fight so?”

“‘tis not yer affair, Juliana,” Alasdair warned.

Juliana glanced at Angus Og, blushing. Alasdair was so angry that he had failed to address her as Lady Juliana—he had sounded as if they were intimate, which, of course, they were.

“Perhaps Lady Juliana wishes to ken why we argue over Achanduin Castle,” Angus Og said, eyeing her.

Juliana stared back at him. She had hardly spoken to him in the past few days since he had arrived at Dunyveg. But she had observed him from afar, and in many ways, he reminded her of Alasdair. He was shrewd, arrogant, powerful and aware of it. He was also good-looking, and he knew that, too. She had caught him flirting with her maid and she was fairly certain he had seduced her.

He would inherit most of Kintyre from his father, making him a powerful Highland lord. He was a few years younger than Alasdair, whom she had learned was twenty-seven, and he had yet to marry.

“Of course I wish to know why you argue over Achanduin—which is on my land.”

Alasdair smiled tightly at her. “Ye never cease to amaze me with yer boldness.”

Angus Og laughed without mirth. “My brother flirts with ex-communication.”

Juliana went still. Had she misheard?

Alasdair cursed, the very first time he had ever done so in front of her.

“The Pope thinks to excommunicate Alasdair?” she cried.

“Bishop Wishart has written us, demanding Alasdair return Achanduin Castle to the church, as the next Bishop of Argyll has been elected. Wishart was very direct—he will next write the Pope, describing Bishop Alan’s murder on holy ground, the attack upon the cathedral, and the theft of Achanduin Castle.”

Juliana began to shake. “Men have been excommunicated for fewer crimes against God.”

“I did not murder the bishop on holy ground, he was hanged outside the cathedral,” Alasdair said tightly.

Juliana was incredulous. “No one will care about such a minor detail! You must return Achanduin Castle immediately!”

He stared coldly at her. Then he turned to his brother. “She did not need to know any of this!”

“Why not? Perhaps she has some affection for ye, enough to persuade ye to a sane course.” Angus Og nodded at her and strode from the room.

Alasdair turned his back upon her and paced to the hearth, where he stared darkly at the fire. Juliana walked hesitantly over to him. She laid her hand on his back.

He started.

“You do not want to go to hell.”

“I am not excommunicated yet.”

“Alasdair! You cannot play such a dangerous game—return Achanduin Castle!”

He eyed her. “And should I return it to save my soul, or to enrich yer lands?”

She felt hurt. “I am not thinking about myself. Fool that I am.” She turned away.

He seized her arm, whirling her back to face him. His blue gaze was searing. “So ye do hold me in some affection?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.” She was frightened for him, and did that mean she truly cared? Did she wish to save him, and his soul?

He made a harsh sound, then released her.

“But I do know this: keeping Achanduin Castle is not worth an eternity in hell.” Juliana turned abruptly, shaken. And she saw Angus Mor, standing on the threshold of the hall, watching them like a hawk. He still suspected her of treachery.

She hurried past him as she left the room.

* * *

JULIANA HAPPENED TO be in Alasdair’s room, where she was replacing the wool blankets on his bed with fresh ones. He hadn’t asked her to do so, and as she folded up the fur at the foot of the bed, she was aware that it pleased her to take some small care for him.

She turned and walked to each window in turn, opening the shutters wide. It was now mid-March, and it was a cold but brilliantly sunny day. There was no snow left about the castle or on the beaches below it; she could just see some snowy ridges in the north.

She paused, inhaling the fresh air, as birds chirped from the treetops outside the stronghold. Why hadn’t a messenger come yet? Why wasn’t there some word from either Alexander or William?

And was she truly dismayed?

She glanced about the stone chamber, which had almost become her own. She never slept in the chamber with Mary and the boys. She was becoming accustomed to sharing Alasdair’s room.

“Juliana? Have you seen Roger?” Mary asked worriedly from the doorway.

“I thought all the boys were downstairs.”

Mary shook her head, one hand on her now swollen belly. “He has vanished.”

Juliana hurried to her. “He hasn’t disappeared, I assure you of that.”

“No.” Mary plucked her sleeve. “He has begun to ask me where William is. He has started to complain that he wants his father—and he wants to go home.”

Juliana was surprised. Roger, although the eldest, was far quieter and more steadfast than his mischievous brother, Donald. He was so clearly the thoughtful brother—which would serve him well when, one day, he became lord of Castle Bain. “Roger has been complaining?”

Mary nodded. “Just this morning I tried to tell him that we will go home soon, but he refused to listen—he ran out of the chamber. Now, I cannot find him.”

Juliana was mildly alarmed. “I will find him, Mary. Just rest. He cannot have gone far.” She left her sister and hurried downstairs. It took a half an hour for her to realize that if Roger was within the castle, he was deliberately hiding from them. No one had seen him since they had all broken the fast that morning.

Juliana was alarmed, but she had no intention of worrying her sister. Having taken up a warmer mantle, she was about to go outside to look for him when Alasdair came striding inside.

He was disheveled from the wind, his long hair tangled about his shoulders, the bright blue feather more visible than ever, patches of mud on his boots, the skirts of his leine, and even his bare thighs. He grinned at her. “We will have venison tonight.”

She smiled back. Her heart turned over as it always did when she first saw him, after not seeing him for a few hours. Perhaps it was time to admit that she had truly become fond of him. “Then everyone will be pleased. Alasdair—have you seen Roger?”

“Isn’t he with the other children?”

“I have just searched the entire castle—if he is here, he is hiding. But perhaps he is outside.”

He was bewildered. “Why would he hide?”

“He has started to behave oddly, with distress—he has been asking to go home to his father.”

An odd look that she could not decipher crossed his face. “I’ll help ye look fer him.”

They went outside into the bailey, Alasdair telling her to search the area by the front gates. As they headed off in opposite directions, Juliana became dismayed when she saw the front gates were open. But even a small boy would be remarked if he walked out of Dunyveg—surely.

Another hour passed, in which Juliana became extremely alarmed. No one had seen Roger, and she had searched every nook and cranny of the bailey. She asked a passing lad if he knew where Alasdair was, and she was told he was in the stables.

Trying to reassure herself, Juliana hurried across the bailey and into the stone stables. It was dark within, smelling pleasantly of hay and horses. As she entered, a dog ran up to her, its tail wagging, and several mares nickered.

Alasdair stepped out of the shadows and placed a finger upon his lips, then nodded to his right.

Juliana rushed forward. Alasdair took her arm and guided her to where an old mare was stalled, a young foal suckling at her side. Roger was curled up in the chips and hay, in a far corner of the stall, asleep.

She inhaled in relief. Alasdair put his arm around her and pulled her close. She looked up at him, feeling a rush of gratitude. “We have to wake him. I’m surprised that mare allowed him inside with her colt.”

“Let me do it,” he said.

Juliana assumed that he did not want her to go within, in case the mare decided to behave protectively towards her foal. She watched him step inside, pat the mare, then carefully sidestep her and kneel by Roger. He lifted him into his arms and carried him outside.

As he did, Roger awoke.

Alasdair smiled at him. “Did ye come to see the newborn colt?”

Roger became widely awake. His eyes huge, he shook his head.

Alasdair stepped outside the stall, closed it, and set Roger down. “Did ye think to find a horse, then, and ride away?”

Juliana started. Why would he ask such a question!

Roger was tearful and belligerent. “I don’t like being a hostage.”

“I ken.” He stroked his hair. “No one likes being held hostage, but it’s the way of men.”

Roger shook his head fiercely. “I hate it here!”

Alasdair knelt. “I ken. But ye have a duty to yer mother. Ye frightened her, Roger, hiding as ye did, and thinking to run away. Ye frightened yer aunt. Yer duty is to be strong and brave like yer father. Do ye not wish to be like William?”

“Yes,” he finally said, his gaze riveted upon Alasdair. “Will I ever go home?”

“Of course ye’ll go home. But until ye do, ye must take care of yer mother. Ye canna worry or frighten her again. I ken, ’tis hard being brave. Even when yer grown like I am. But a man dinna have a choice, Roger. Every man has a duty to his kin to be strong and brave.”

Juliana was moved. She had not known Alasdair could be so gentle and kind with children.

Roger continued to gaze keenly at him. “But you’ve never been afraid. You’re Alasdair Og!”

“Sit with me.” Alasdair sat down on a bale of hay, and Roger sat down beside him, enraptured. “A long time ago, when I was much younger than ye, I was sent away from my mother and my father. I was a hostage too.”

Juliana started. She had never heard a word of this before!

Roger’s eyes popped. “You were a hostage?”

“Aye, the King of Scotland held me hostage, for he was very angry with my father. I was sent to him with only a maid.”

Roger bit his lip. “You did not have your mother?”

Alasdair laid his hand on his shoulder. “No. But ye have yer mother, yer aunt, and yer brothers with ye. Ye must remember that.”

Roger nodded. “Were you scared?”

“Yes. It was very hard being strong and brave.” His regard serious, he added, “I dinna ken I would ever go home, but I did. And as soon as yer ransom is paid, ye will go home, but ye must vow ye’ll not run away again.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Alasdair stood up. He suddenly started, as if he’d forgotten that Juliana stood there.

She could barely breathe. How was it that he had never mentioned this to her before?

He smiled slightly at her, allowing Roger to precede them out of the stables. As they crossed the bailey, Juliana’s mind raced. She finally took his arm and halted; he faced her, his expression wry.

“I did not know you were a hostage when you were a child!”

“My father went to war for the King of Norway and Haakon and he lost.” He shrugged. Then, “I ken what the boy is feeling.”

Her heart raced. “How old were you?”

“Almost two.”

He had been sent away as a hostage, without his mother, at the age of two? Of course he understood Roger.

“Dinna look at me that way,” he warned, but mildly.

“How long were you held hostage?”

“Close to three years.”

Juliana bit her lip, tears rising. She seized his hand. “Your poor mother! You must have been so frightened! And to be kept hostage for so long!”

“Dinna feel sorry for me.” He shrugged her off, his look filled with warning. “Little boys grow up.”

Of course she was stricken—and she felt sorry for what he must have endured. But Juliana found her composure. “Alasdair. Thank you for being so kind to Roger.”

He softened. “Did ye think I’d be unkind?”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A MESSENGER FINALLY arrived—with letters from the Earl of Buchan and Alexander MacDougall.

Juliana was in the great room with her sister and Lady MacDonald, seated before the hearth, sewing. Roger and Donald were outside, playing on the beach, and little Thomas was asleep upstairs. The moment the men came inside, their loud voices and heavy booted steps could be heard. Alasdair walked in first.

Juliana saw that he was holding several rolls of vellum, and that a man she did not recognize was behind him with Angus Mor. That Highlander wore Buchan’s green-and-red plaid.

Word about their ransoms had finally come. She slowly got up, her heart thundering, as Alasdair walked directly to her. “Yer brother has written us both,” he said.

She could barely look away as he handed her the roll that was hers.

“And William? Did he send me a missive?” Mary cried.

Alasdair handed her a parchment roll. “Aye, that is from William. But before ye read it, Buchan has agreed to pay yer ransom, Lady Mary, and ye will probably be free by June, as soon as the payment is made.”

Mary nodded, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. “June,” she whispered. It was April the second now.

Juliana tore her gaze from Alexander’s. June was not far away, and would she be free then, too? And if so, why did she feel an odd dismay?

Juliana glanced at Mary, who remained seated, and was now eagerly reading William’s letter. Tears fell from her eyes. Juliana hurried to sit beside her, still clutching her own parchment roll. “Is everything well?”

She looked up, nodding, as she wiped at her tears. “He is fine. He misses me. He misses the boys. He has been told I am in good health. And he does not say a word about the war that will surely come soon.”

He did not want to worry her, Juliana thought. “June is not far away,” she said, patting her hand.

“I will not see William in June. The baby is due in July. I will not be able to travel.”

Juliana twisted to look at Alasdair, darkly. He was reading his letter, but he glanced across the room at her. She knew he understood her meaning—he should release Mary now, so she could have her child at home.

“What does our brother say? When will you be released?” Mary asked softly.

Juliana unrolled the parchment and smoothed it out upon the table. Mary set a taper closer, so it was easier to read.

“‘My dear Juliana,’” he wrote, “‘It aggrieves me to no end that Alasdair Og attacked Lismore behind my back, taking you, Mary and the boys prisoner. Buchan has agreed to pay the sum demanded for Mary’s release and I am thankful for that. Your ransom is another matter. Alasdair Og has demanded more gold for your release than I have, and I must beg for help from our allies. I do not know how long it will take to raise the funds. I have been told you are in good health, so I beg you to be patient. God keep you well. Your brother, Alexander MacDougall.’”

Juliana was in disbelief. She looked up. Alasdair had been watching her closely and their gazes met instantly.

He had asked for a reasonable ransom for Mary, but an excessive one for her? So excessive that her brother needed to seek help with the payment from their allies? She realized she was standing—and that she was shaking.

“Juliana?” Mary asked with alarm.

She somehow smiled at her sister. “I do not know when I will be released. Alexander does not have enough gold to pay my ransom. Not now, anyway.”

Mary gasped. She glanced sharply at Alasdair. “How much did you ask for her?”

Juliana also stared, but coolly. “Yes, how much did you ask?”

Alasdair’s face had become an impassive mask. “I have asked for a ransom commensurate with yer value to me.”

Juliana became aware that everyone in the hall was staring at her, and their regards were oddly knowing. Angus Mor seemed pleased.

What did everyone know that she did not? And was this truly possible? She had trusted Alasdair to ask for a simple ransom—she had, until then, believed she would be justly released when it was paid! Had she been a fool?

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