A Gentle Feuding (6 page)

I
n the weeks that followed, Sheena was often to remember that last intimate talk with Niall. Aberdeen, nearly fifty miles from home, was like a foreign land. It was crowded and filthy, and you couldn’t walk through the town without fear of having someone’s chamber pot or garbage dumped on your head. But it was a thriving market center, and exciting, with a crowded harbor and every kind of craftsman working in the town.

Sheena spent her first days exploring, but soon gave that up. Oh, the sights were grand—the abbeys, the university, all the shops—but there were too many Highlanders. They were easy enough to spot, their legs bare between plaid and boots. Lowlanders wore tights or combinations of hose and puffed breeches. Lowlander peasants wore trousers.

If the intimidating Highlanders were not enough to make her shun the town, there was a continual
stream of beggars accosting her on every corner. Aberdeen was overrun with poor people, poor seeking work or professional beggars.

Every morning Sheena left her aunt’s austere rooms at the nunnery and walked to the poorhouse, a stone building in a terrible state of ruin. Given over as a house of charity, it was a few blocks from the nunnery. The house had been intended as a resting place for weary travelers, where they could get a hot meal and a clean bed for a night or two while looking for work. But it had deteriorated into a slum for beggars and vagrants. A small house, it contained only ten beds. The rule of one or two nights’ stay only still applied, and there were always new faces at the door.

Sheena’s aunt was not obliged to go there every day, but she never failed. A priest lived there, seeing to the distribution of meals, but he was too old for all the work the place required. Those who slept there were asked to wash their bedding and clean their eating utensils for the next guest, but the rule was never obeyed, and only the nuns’ daily care kept the place from becoming a pesthole.

When Sheena saw how tired her Aunt Erminia was, she insisted on helping. Her aunt’s day usually consisted of spending the morning at the poorhouse washing and cleaning, then working at the hospital for several hours, then returning to the poorhouse before going home.

Sheena was appalled. All that work, and Aunt Erminia was nearing fifty! There was no reason she
couldn’t help at the poorhouse and make her aunt’s day that much shorter.

It worked out well. Sheena was young and energetic and could do the work in half the time it took Aunt Erminia. The poorhouse was empty by the time she got there every day, so no one bothered her. She and her aunt were able to spend afternoons in the quiet of the nunnery, talking or sewing together. If Sheena missed her home and the activities she was accustomed to, she didn’t show it yet. She did achingly miss her brother, however. There was no one young and lively at the nunnery, and she felt so alone.

After a month, Sheena had not heard from home, from Niall or her father. She had repaired the jerkins and plaids of the poor, learned countless new stitches from her aunt, and refurbished and mended her own wardrobe…and was deathly sick of sewing. She wanted to ride, hunt, and swim before the first snows. She needed adventure, or at least some mischief, and, oh, how she missed Niall!

For the first time, Niall would be raiding. Autumn was the traditional time for lifting, as the stealing of livestock was termed. Whatever the Fergussons lifted that year would be kept, not sold, for they had lost too much to the MacKinnions to be able to sell any.

The morning in late September when Sheena pulled her cart of bedding along to the river was dismally gloomy. Not just the usual Scottish gloom, either, but a full mass of dark clouds that signaled a
storm. She worried about her wash. She was in the habit of hanging the bedding by the river to dry in the brisk breeze, rather than at the parish yard, where surrounding buildings blocked the wind. If it rained, the wash would have to be hung inside the poorhouse, and it would take all day to dry.

That had happened before, so Sheena had been there in the late afternoon when the poorhouse started to fill. She didn’t want to be there again, to see the thin, sunken faces, the ragged, filthy clothes. She hoped it wouldn’t rain.

She hurried, rubbing her hands raw before she was finished. Her poor hands. How white and smooth they’d once been. Now they were red and sore and cracked.

“Need some help, lassie?”

Sheena gasped and turned around quickly. She had not heard the young man on his horse approach, for the wind was whipping hard. It flapped his plaid around him and played havoc with her green skirt.

He was a Highlander, his plaid very close to her own colors. He was young, too, about her age. There was something about his face that put her at ease. True, it was a very handsome face, but that wasn’t the reason. There was just something about him.

“’Tis kind of you to offer.” Sheena grinned, amused. “But I canna imagine a Highland warrior doing the poorhouse wash.”

“You’re a beggar?” He was shocked, and the surprise in his voice made her laugh outright. “Of
course I am. Do you think I’d be washing this bedding unless I had to?”

“But…you dinna look like a beggar.”

“Well, I’m new at this. I mean, I have only recently fallen on hard times.”

“You’ve no family?”

“Och, but you’re full of questions, and you’re wasting my time, you are.” Her voice was stern, but her eyes twinkled.

It had been so long since she had spoken to anyone near her age, and a handsome man at that. How she wanted him to stay. But, of course, he wouldn’t.

“’Twill rain soon, and I’ll have a wet wash,” she sighed.

She bent to wring out the last sheet and hang it with the rest on the trees by the river’s edge. When she turned around again, he was right behind her, having left his horse. He was much taller than she was, and she had to look up to see his face.

“You’re so pretty—a rare beauty,” he said, wonder in his voice. “I saw you passing the cattle yard.”

“And decided to follow me?”

“Aye.”

“Is that a habit of yours then, following girls?” Sheena bantered.

But he remained serious. “Can I kiss you, lass?”

The sudden request shocked her. “I’ll box your ears,” she replied tartly.

He laughed, relaxing a little. “You’re a saucy wench. ’Tis plain to see you’ve no man to answer to.”

“And you’re much too bold for my liking,” she returned, uneasy now. His eyes were devouring her, no longer simply appreciative.

She tried to move past him, but he put out his arms to stop her. “You’ll no’ be running off when I’ve only just found you. You may be a vision, but I won’t let you dissolve.”

His arms were stretched wide, and Sheena suspected he would grab her if she dared move. She didn’t like this one bit. He was young, but he was big. And a Highlander, too.

“What is it you want then?” She glared at him.

“You’re much too bonny to be begging for your keep. I’d like to be your man and take care of you.”

By then, Sheena was completely unnerved. But wasn’t it just like a Highlander to be insanely impulsive?

“You’ve no’ much sense, lad,” she scoffed. “You’re barely more than a boy yourself, so how can you take care of me?”

He scowled, and Sheena had a glimpse of the man he would be one day, fierce and temperamental. She shouldn’t have laughed, she realized too late. Highlanders didn’t take lightly to being ridiculed, and this one was very proud.

“I shouldna have asked you, lass,” he said stiffly, but she felt no less on guard.

“I’m glad you understand that.”

“Nay. I should have done what my brother would do.”

Sheena felt her heart constrict at the ominous tone.

“He’d have taken you…and so shall I.”

His hand gripped her arm, and Sheena screamed. She was lifted in his arms, screaming. Neither her screaming nor her struggles bothered him at all. There was even a glint of amusement in his eyes.

The Highlander wasted no time. She was thrown atop his horse, and he was behind her in an instant, his arms circling her so she couldn’t move. His arms bound her firmly in front of him as the horse charged into the shallow river, crossing to the south side. Sheena’s boots and long skirt were soaked, but she wasn’t thinking of anything except how distraught her aunt would be. What would she make of Sheena’s disappearance? She would send word home, of course. Poor Niall. Would he think she had run away? And her father? He had denied her his protection, and this had happened because of his decision. He would be so upset! She could find nothing soothing in that thought, however.

“Where are you taking me?” Sheena shouted over the wind.

“To my home.”

“For how long?”

“Why, forever.”

Absurd! The Highlander couldn’t just keep her like a stray dog. Was he insane? Keep her forever? Nonsense! It was just boasting. She would find her way back to Aberdeen, or her family would find her. The Highlander couldn’t get away with this. He couldn’t.

T
hey had traveled less than a mile when the rain descended, finally, in a fury. The storm felt ominous to Sheena, as if it portended her destiny. As one mile turned into many, that thought haunted her.

The Highlander unwrapped his plaid as the storm began and gave it to her. She took it gladly, and used it to cover her head.

After that, she couldn’t see where they were going. The lad was in a hurry, appearing to race the storm. The miles melted away, and more than twenty were gained before the rain stopped and he slowed down.

Sheena threw off the wet plaid. It had rained so hard that she was soaked clear through despite its protection. It was undoubtedly afternoon, but so gloomy she couldn’t be sure just what hour. On either side of them were mountains, big gray masses with dark clouds surrounding them. They were in a
deep valley between two mountain ranges, riding along the river’s edge. Sheena shivered as she began to understand that they were in the Highlands, going deeper into them. She wanted to cry. Tears stung her eyes, but she held them back fiercely. She wouldn’t show her young captor how helpless she felt.

They were moving along slowly, for the horse was winded from his long journey. Sheena turned around to face her abductor, then turned back to stare straight ahead.

“You’ve no right to keep me. My family will be very angry about this.”

“You’ve already admitted you’ve no one,” he said smoothly.

“I didna say that! You did!”

“Well, no matter,” he said cheerfully. “A beggar’s family can have no power. You’re mine to keep—and lucky you are I’m having you.”

“Lucky?”

“Aye,” he boasted. “’Tis fine clothes I’ll be giving you, and jewels to match your deep blue eyes. You’ll never have to beg again. Can’t you see how glad you should be?”

Sheena felt her frustration mounting. “Does it no’ occur to you that you have
stolen
me?”

“When we’re wed, you’ll be glad of it,” he laughed.

“Wed?” she gasped, turning again to look at him.

“Of course, wed,” he replied. “You dinna think I’ll shame you with less than marriage?”

“You dinna know me! You canna want to wed me!”

“But I do. You’re special, and no mistake. I know that well enough.”

“Well, I’ll no’ wed you, and that’s that!” Sheena said, furious and helpless to do anything about it.

“You’re stubborn now, but you’ll change your mind,” he said confidently.

Her fear had been overcome by anger, but fear returned as she saw a great stone castle appear ahead, dark clouds floating around its tall towers. They had traveled fifteen to twenty miles since midday, but at a much slower pace. The last mile or so before they reached the castle was straight up into the mountains. It was now nearing night, and the Highland fortress ahead was a gloomy place indeed.

“Your home?” Sheena asked, her voice tremulous.

“Aye,” he declared proudly. “It looks cold, I know, but ’tis pleasant enough inside.”

“But such a big castle,” she said, awed. “Are you related to the laird here?”

“I’m his brother.”

Sheena didn’t know whether to take hope or not. Surely the laird could see that she was returned to Aberdeen. But perhaps the laird indulged his younger brother.

“I’ll have to hide you for a while,” the boy said, sounding uneasy for the first time as they approached the large gatehouse in the center of a long wall. The wall was flanked by round towers.

“I’ll need to get my brother’s approval ’afore he knows I have you,” he explained.

“Are you afeared of your brother?”

“Afeared?” He laughed, but she was not convinced. “But you need his permission to marry me, don’t you?”

“Aye.”

“And what makes you think he’ll let you wed a beggar?” Hope was growing.

“When he knows how much I want you, he’ll agree.”

But the lad now lacked his earlier self-assurance, and Sheena began to get some of her confidence back.

The gate was opened, and they rode into a large inner courtyard. Ahead was a great hall with a tower at each end. Connected to it on the left was a square building three stories high, with two outside stairs leading up to the second floor. There were many arched windows. There were other round towers, as well, and a stable to the right, as well as smaller buildings near the walls.

“I bid you welcome,” the lad said congenially. Sheena said nothing.

A ginger-haired youth came for the horse. “You’re back so soon, Colen.”

“Aye. Is my brother about?”

“He’s in the hall,” the lad answered. “And where are the others?”

“I left them to their sport. I was in a hurry to be home, so I didna wait for them.”

“And what have you there, Colen?”

This was a new, deeper voice. Sheena tried to turn
to see who it was, but her abductor shielded her. She felt his nervousness.

“’Tis none of your concern, Black Gawain,” the young man said testily.

“A secret, eh?” The man chuckled. “Does your brother know you’ve brought someone back with you?”

“Nay, and I’ll thank you no’ to tell him. I’ll tell him myself when I’m ready.”

He swept Sheena off the horse and carried her away from Black Gawain before she could see the man. She did not like this furtiveness of Colen’s.

“Colen, is it?” she said, wishing he would put her down. But she knew how difficult walking would be after the long ride.

“Aye.”

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“To my room. You’ll stay there.”

“I’ll no’ stay in the same room with you,” she said firmly.

“You’ve naught to fear. Dinna fash yourself. I’ll no’ touch you ’afore we’re wed.”

She wasn’t convinced. “I’ll no’ stay with you. ’Tis no’ proper.”

“There’s nowhere else you can stay,” he said in exasperation. “I canna give you a room to yourself without my brother learning of it.”

“Then let him learn of it!”

She struggled, and he put her down on her feet, one arm around her neck and a hand covering her mouth, for she had tried to scream. He dragged her
along with him up the outer stairs of the large square building.

Black Gawain watched until they were out of sight, then shook his head as he moved off toward the hall. It was not his concern if young Colen wanted to keep a mistress, even an unwilling one. But he couldn’t see why he should keep it a secret from his brother. The laird wouldn’t mind. He had enough women of his own. Gawain chuckled, wondering how long a secret like that could be kept from the leader of the clan.