The Banished Highlander Read online

  “I’ve been waiting for you all day! I’ve missed you so,” Sister Joan said, then stepped back to assess her. “You’re upset. What happened?”

  “They were attacked by reivers,” Ruari said, taking a step forward. “I’m from Clan Cameron. We took care of the men who did it, but we didn’t arrive soon enough to save all of her guards. Some are dead, others injured. The injured are being escorted to Mistress Jennie. It was too late for some, and for that, I sincerely apologize.”

  Juliana turned her face toward Ruari, tears misting her gaze as if the attack had only just caught up to her.

  He’d have to thank Padraig for doing such a fine job of distracting her on the ride to the abbey.

  Staring up at him, she said, “My thanks to you for all your assistance, but I’d like to rest now. Joan,” she said, turning to the nun. “Please take me to your chamber.”

  Ruari took a final glance at Juliana, suddenly struck by her beauty, as if a branch had fallen on his head to make him pay attention. He’d noticed she was pretty, but he’d been wrong.

  Juliana Clavelle was the loveliest lass he’d ever seen.

  Chapter Two

  Ruari took his leave, but before he could mount his horse, he heard soft steps running toward him from the abbey. Juliana. She was almost upon him when he turned to see her flushed and breathless.

  “My lady, did you forget something?” he asked.

  “Nay,” she said, her gaze traveling to Padraig before darting back to him. She stared at him for a long moment without saying anything.

  He didn’t know how to react to that, so he said nothing, giving her the time she needed.

  “Well, aye. I forgot to properly thank both of you. I know we were jesting along the way, but I wish to be verra serious when I tell you how much I appreciate that you both came to my assistance when I desperately needed it. I’m not often away from home.” She glanced back at Padraig, although her gaze once again landed on Ruari. “When I think about what could have happened…”

  “’Twas our duty and our pleasure, lass,” Ruari said, his voice coming out in a husky tone he hadn’t expected.

  Ruari’s gaze fell on her lips. On the exact spot where her teeth bit the bottom lip enough to plump it out a bit more than it was naturally. Pink and desirable, begging to be kissed. Porcelain skin with a slight dotting of freckles decorated the bridge of her petite nose. She lifted her chin a notch, and the smooth skin of her neck beckoned him.

  He mentally shook himself, forcing his gaze back to her face. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Her hand settled on his forearm, and it was as if she branded him with a searing heat. “I am extremely grateful to both of you.”

  She spun on her heel and hurried back inside, leaving Ruari at a loss for words.

  “What’s wrong?” Padraig asked.

  “Naught, I…”

  “What?”

  He mounted his horse in one quick movement. “I didn’t notice her beauty until she dropped her hood. The lass is stunning.”

  “Then mayhap you should convince her not to take her vows,” Padraig said with a wink. “A few sweet words could take you verra far.”

  “Sweet words are not one of my finer attributes. Besides, once was enough for me. I’ll not marry again.”

  “Nay, don’t say that. Never is a long time, cousin.”

  Ruari had married the prettiest lass in the clan. They hadn’t married for love, but he’d been fond of Doirin. Still, the marriage had always felt…incomplete. Their affection had never blossomed into anything more powerful, and they’d never had children. They’d argued about that, bitterly, right before the accident that had claimed her life. He’d asked her to consult with Jennie about her inability to carry, but she’d refused. Both of them had raised their voices, and she’d stormed off to go riding.

  Once Ruari’s anger had passed, he went after her, knowing how she loved to push her horse. To his surprise, he’d found Neil at her side, tending her dead body, her horse not far away with a sprained leg. Doirin’s neck had broken from a fall.

  Three years had passed, but he still thought of it each and every day. He’d failed Doirin, and in his heart, he didn’t believe he deserved another chance.

  “Aye,” he said softly, “forever is a long time, but I’ll not do it.”

  “You were at my cousins’ wedding not long ago. You must have seen how joyful they were. Don’t you wish for the same?” The double wedding, held at Lochluin Abbey, had been a huge event, attended by everyone in the clan. There was no denying the two couples had looked deliriously happy, but he didn’t trust his own judgment when it came to lasses.

  “I did. No more. ’Tis not for me.” Nay, he’d decided his purpose was to be of service to his brother and the clan. Nothing and no one would sway him.

  ***

  Juliana flopped onto the bed in the chamber she was to share with her dear sister. “’Twas awful, Joan. I was so frightened. If the Cameron men hadn’t come along, those brutes would have carried me away. I’d be better off marrying the man Papa favors. I nearly died.”

  “I’m so glad I found out about this possible betrothal. I made him promise long ago that he would send you to the abbey for a proper visit before you marry. I had to send a messenger to remind him of that, or he would have made you marry this man right away.” Joan crossed her arms in front of her, her expression fierce. “Now, who does he wish for you to marry?”

  “You wish to approve of my husband? But I thought you wanted me to become a nun like you so we could always be together?”

  Joan sat down next to her and clasped her hands. “I do wish you would choose the nunnery, but ’tis a decision for you to make on your own. I cannot make it for you, and neither can Papa. He would respect your choice if you insisted on becoming a novice. But I’m happy you’re here regardless of what you wish to do. I can help you understand the truth about marriage. Did Mama tell you about the expectations a husband has for his wife?”

  Juliana pursed her lips, moving them from one side to the other. “You mean that lasses must be quiet and obedient?”

  “Nay, not that, though ’tis exactly what most men expect. The marriage bed. Did she not explain it to you after you started your monthly courses? I know it has been two years since she was with us, but I thought she would have told you long ago.”

  Juliana scowled because she felt at a complete loss. Her mother had told her nothing about what to expect of marriage. While she’d heard talk among serving maids and stable lads, she’d never truly understood it. “Nay, what of it? Are there special linens or something? Would I not just sleep in my own chamber next to my husband?”

  Joan groaned loudly enough to make her feel foolish. She’d clearly gotten it all wrong.

  “Joan, I’ve heard of the sweating and grunting and all that from the serving maids, but married couples don’t do that, do they? I thought they were teasing me because of the way animals mate in the stables…” A moment of silence hung between them. “But.” A few things suddenly started to make sense to her, something she hadn’t taken the time to think about before. “It truly happens that way?”

  “Oh my, ’tis exactly as I feared. I have much to teach you, but we’ll worry about that another day.” Joan stood and paced, working her fingers across her lips as she thought. “I must warn you about the realities of being wed. You should be aware of that before you make your decision.”

  That sounded ominous, and Juliana wasn’t sure she could stomach it just now, not when she hadn’t eaten anything for hours. “Joan, I’m hungry. Must we wait until the last meal of the day? Have you some broth or something? Then I’d like to rest a bit. ’Twas a most exhausting journey.”

  Guilt and worry crossed her sister’s face. “You poor thing! Of course, you must be hungry. And to think, you were attacked by reivers. I would have been hysterical by now. Allow me to run to the kitchens and I’ll return straight away. Can you busy yourself until then? I promise to return quickly
. There must be bread and cheese at the verra least.” Her sister turned back a full three times before she headed to the door.

  “Aye, I can find something to do. I’ll unpack a few things while you’re gone.”

  “Aye, aye.” She came back to give her a quick hug. “My apologies for not being more considerate about the situation. I’m sure you are upset and tired. Please put your things in that chest, and the small side table is for your notions.” Joan skittered away, but not before she made one final comment. “Juliana, I’m so pleased you are here with me. Please don’t regret your journey, as troublesome as it was. We need this time together. Both of us do.”

  She disappeared so quickly that Juliana had no time to reply, but she decided Joan was correct. They did deserve time together. She vowed not to focus on the horrible circumstances of the journey.

  She would focus on her sister.

  Juliana sat staring at the door. Their sire had never forgiven Joan for running off to the convent rather than marrying the husband he favored, and Joan had never forgiven him for leaving her with no choice. Although Father claimed he wasn’t to blame for their infrequent visits with Joan, Juliana wasn’t sure what to believe. She and her sister hadn’t seen each other since their mother’s funeral, two years ago. There was a distance between them she did not like. One she hoped would ease over the course of this visit.

  Her mind drifted to the man with the dark-red hair—Ruari Cameron. She’d thought him handsome from the start, but when she’d stepped close to him, actually peered into his warm brown eyes, her belly had done an odd flip-flop.

  The man had a chiseled jaw that begged to be touched. But what she’d liked most about him was his smile. Wide and genuine, it had made something inside her happy to behold it. How she wished she could get to know him better. Make him smile.

  Later, when she’d touched his arm, it had felt like something was passing between them. Almost as if their souls had met before, and they were happy to see each other again.

  She hadn’t felt the same about the other guard, Padraig. He was quite a jester, but he didn’t call to her soul the way Ruari did.

  She would never forget Ruari Cameron, even if they never met again.

  Which was likely, given she was to spend the next fortnight in the abbey. Heaving a sigh, she rose to her feet. After she finished moving her clothing from her bag into the chest, she took out her needlework and began to work.

  Needlework calmed her, so she was often working on one project or another. She’d made pillow covers and small wall decorations, but this was her most ambitious project ever.

  She’d had a vision of a field full of purple flowers, the scent of lavender heady as she ran through it. This was her first attempt at bringing a true natural setting to her work. If it came out well, she wished to make a wall hanging of it, perhaps for Joan, or she could keep it and take it with her to her next home, whether she married or took her vows.

  Something told her that her vision of the flowers was important. That she needed to convey the beauty in her mind onto the cloth. In her heart, she knew there was a reason for it, yet she had no idea what it might be. And somehow she knew it was missing something, but she couldn’t figure out what.

  It would come to her when it was needed.

  Chapter Three

  The next morn, Ruari and Padraig were practicing their sword work on their own, heaving and sweating without any attention for their surroundings, when Neil approached the courtyard. He’d been Aedan’s second-in-command for many years—a job Ruari had always wanted.

  Neil knew, of course, and he loved to flaunt his power around Ruari. Although the man had never liked him, he’d become much nastier after Doirin’s accident. He’d always placed the blame squarely on Ruari’s shoulders, and a fortnight after her death, he’d even told Ruari he thought Aedan should have banished him from the clan. That sentiment hadn’t been repeated, but Ruari had never forgotten it.

  The older man chuckled darkly as he walked up to them. “’Tis not your sword skills that need practicing, Ruari. How did your favorite spying tactic work for you with those reivers?”

  Ruari said nothing. He would not give the man the satisfaction of speaking. They both knew he’d handled the situation poorly.

  “No words of wisdom for me?” Neil pressed. “Did ye congratulate your brother for saving the lass? Your brother and the fine lad you’re sparring with were the true heroes of the day.”

  Ruari said naught, though it was increasingly difficult to remain quiet.

  Padraig spoke up in his defense. “Mayhap he was last, but you were not far ahead of him, Neil. Don’t think you should be throwing any stones at him. What kept you? Was it your age?”

  Neil huffed and spun on his heel, leaving the two cousins alone.

  “My thanks to you, Padraig,” Ruari murmured low enough so he could not be overheard.

  “The man never stops, does he? Why does your brother insist on keeping him as his second? You’re a much harder worker, and everyone knows it. That fool just likes to prance around and give orders. He’s past his best years, and you are a much better swordsman.”

  Ruari found himself in the uncomfortable position of defending a man who looked at him with nothing but contempt. “When he was younger, he was a fine second.” He grabbed his waterskin up off the ground, took a few swigs, then tossed it aside.

  As if the skin were his brother’s head.

  He spat not far from the skin, grateful Padraig couldn’t read his thoughts. He loved his brother. He respected his brother.

  He wished he could earn Aedan’s respect in return.

  “I cannot believe you would defend him.” Padraig took a long look at him, too insightful given his age. “Or is it your brother you defend?”

  “My brother,” he admitted. “Aedan has much on his hands. Lately, he’s needed to defend the abbey as much as our land.”

  Although the abbey was not directly affiliated with the Camerons, they’d been called upon to assist in its protection many times over the years. It was a duty they all took to heart. The monks there worked tirelessly creating and duplicating the church’s finest tomes and documents, while the nuns did God’s work in so many ways.

  Padraig grunted. “Someday he’ll make the right choice.” He paced a few circles around Ruari, then picked up his sword, taking a stance opposite him.

  Ruari just nodded, going after the lad with renewed vigor.

  How could he explain to his cousin that his greatest fear was that Aedan would replace Neil with someone else when the time came?

  In fact, it had occurred to him that Aedan could be fostering Padraig in the hopes the young Grant would stay on and become his second someday.

  Would his own brother do that to him?

  When their sire had taken his last breath, he’d begged Aedan to take over as chieftain. He’d had to beg because Aedan hadn’t wanted any part of leading the clan.

  Ruari would have been overjoyed to become chief, but the brothers were far apart in age, and he’d only been one and ten at the time.

  He gave credit where it was due. Aedan had become a fine chieftain, and he’d ably defended their land and the abbey against multiple marauders and thieves over the years.

  If only Ruari could have taken a larger part.

  His brother had thought he was too young to help at first, and so he’d spent his time spying on their allies. In doing so, he alone had uncovered a plot to overthrow his brother. The whole clan had shouted his praises for two moons after that, and he’d loved every minute of the glory.

  But the glory had dissipated quickly, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t duplicate it. Spying had become second nature to him—he was uncommonly good at it—but spying wasn’t the answer to every problem. Still, he couldn’t shake his habit of taking a covert approach. Sneaking up on people, hiding in the bushes, training his ears to listen to others’ conversations became a part of him. His tendency was to collect the full picture bef
ore riding in to attack—something that had earned him plenty of taunting from others in the clan. Neil wasn’t the only one who thought him a fool.

  He took a step back from sparring and finally decided to put the question directly to Padraig. Although young, the lad had good sense. “What is my problem?”

  Padraig tossed his weapon to the ground, then wiped the sweat off his brow with his tunic. “Ruari, you’re a fine swordsman. You have good sense, but you shouldn’t have attempted to ride around the group of reivers yesterday. We knew everything we needed to know to save the lass. Perhaps you should talk to your brother about all of this. Ask him why he hasn’t made you his second yet.”

  Ruari dropped his weapon and reached for the skin of ale, which he’d brought alongside the water. He chugged down some ale, thinking of the ten different conversations he’d had with his brother over the years. “I have. He always gives me the same answer. I don’t have the experience.”

  “Have you asked him why he thinks you struggle to distinguish yourself in battle?”

  Ruari nearly spat his drink out.

  Padraig smirked and clasped his shoulder. “Think on it. After all Aedan has been through, he should be able to give you great advice. Everyone knows he didn’t wish to be chieftain, but he’s taken to it like a natural.”

  “Nay. He thinks he knows what ails me. He always says the same thing. He thinks I’m afraid, but I have no fear that I’m aware of.”

  “How could you not know your own fears?” Padraig asked.

  Oh, he knew them. The fear of failure was his constant companion.

  ***

  Ruari rode his horse out through the gates, needing to be alone. When he was far enough out, he turned his horse toward the mountaintops north of Cameron land.

  The Highlands of Scotland beckoned him—the peaks and valleys, the deep green of the forests, the pines and the patches of thick lavender. How he loved this land. He took great pride in both his clan and his country.