Resisting the Highlander: A Scottish Romance (2 page)

There was a hardness about her mother at that moment that Bridget had never seen before and she wondered at it. Her grandfather’s disapproval was no secret, but her mother had never fully explained the rift. Studying the tired face in front of her, Bridget’s anger left her. She all but whispered, “What did Grandfather have against my father?”

Alice looked as if trying to hold back tears as she answered, “Oh, lassie, it goes a way back to the Highland clan wars. Your father is a Campbell, my father is a MacDonald, and you know from school about the massacre of Glencoe. The MacDonalds and Campbells were bitter enemies then, but that was so long ago it should be forgotten. Some people never forget and hold a grudge to their death. My father is a proud man and very hard at times, but Bridget, he has a very soft spot in his heart for you.”

Bridget sat quietly for a few moments, mulling things over in his mind, thinking how very complicated life seemed to be. Then looking at her mother she said, “If I do decide to move in with him, what about Besse Stewart, his housekeeper? She might resent it terribly.”

“It’s none of her business,” Alice answered promptly. “She is his servant and you are his family.”

Bridget stubbornly persisted, “Well, what about that young highland lad, Aidan MacLeod, who Grandfather brought down here to live at the castle with him? I’ve never met him, but everyone knows he has become like a son to Grandfather. He depends on him for so much. I’m sure Aidan wouldn’t want an interloper interfering with his secure way of life.” She remembered that her grandfather had brought Aidan to live with him soon after the invitations to her family had stopped and she wondered now if the timing wasn’t coincidental as she’d assumed. She’d heard whispers about Aidan, nothing more, but what she’d overheard hadn’t been entirely pleasant. She’d written it off as the usual mistrust her village felt toward outlanders. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Alice retorted, “He’s not family either. Just the same as Besse, a hired hand. Besides, there is not one thing they can do about it if Robert wants you. You come first.”

She looked at her daughter’s stricken face, and said, “This has all been quite a shock to you hasn’t it? The kettle is boiling. Come and have a nice hot cup of tea with me and a fresh scone, and you’ll feel better. I baked some extra for Robert too. You can take them to him when you go.”

Getting cups and saucers from the press, Alice poured the steaming brew in short order. Still trembling and upset, Bridget buttered and jellied a hot scone and after a few bites, and a sip of the hot tea, she began to feel more relaxed, more like herself.

When she finished eating, she got up from the table and adjusted her cape. Then, turning to her mother said, “Mum, you look so tired. You really shouldn’t work so hard.”

“I have to, my girl, and this is why I want you to go to your grandfather. I never want to see you work as hard as I have had to. I love your father very much, he is a fine man, but a fisherman’s life is not an easy one for himself or his family. I want you to have it better than I have had.”

Bridget’s head was in a whirl. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever expected anything like this. Her thoughts had always been to support herself with her music. She hadn’t planned on relying on anyone from her family to support her as an adult, especially not her grandfather. 

Her mother’s voice broke in on her thoughts, “Better get going now, and here, don’t forget the basket. I also put in some fresh country butter and eggs for Robert. Brought them from the farm yesterday.”

Bridget impulsively reached out and embraced her mother saying, “I love you, Mum.” She then quickly picked up the basket and headed for the door.

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W
hen Bridget had gone, Alice sat at the table and wept softly for a few moments before getting to her feet. She hastily wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. It would be hard to see her firstborn leave home, but she felt it would be good for all of them, especially Bridget.

The only redeeming factor in the whole scheme was the knowledge of Robert’s great love for his granddaughter. Alice knew he would take the best of care of her.

As far as Besse Stewart and Aidan MacLeod were concerned, Bridget was perfectly capable of dealing with them.

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A
s she walked to the castle, Bridget called forth memories of her grandmother Katherine. She had been small and neat, like Bridget, with sparkling green eyes and a ready smile. Her hair had lost its color over the years, but it had once shown as brightly as Bridget’s. When speaking of Katherine, people praised her inherent good nature that made her beloved by all. Bridget had been told that she’d inherited this from her grandmother as well. But in spite of her niceties and love of life, Bridget had a strong will and a temper that flared instantly at any hint of injustice or domination, traits she had in common with her grandfather.

Bridget smoothed down her green skirt nervously. She was proud of her parents and where she came from but was worried about how she might look to her wealthy grandfather in her modest attire. She turned her thoughts instead to what her life would be like if she did move into the castle. Her pace increased, worries forgotten.

It was only a fifteen-minute walk to the castle from her home. She hadn’t gone far when she saw her cousin Margaret coming toward her. Her cousin was a nondescript young woman about Bridget’s age but with few redeeming qualities. Margaret had light brown hair and pale blue eyes in a an expressionless face devoid of color. Born into a large family, she had been taken and raised by her grandparents. Although Bridget could never identify anything in particular that was wrong, there was something about Margaret that made her feel equal parts compassion and unease. Bridget always tried to be kind and friendly towards her, though Margaret rarely seemed to deserve it.

“Hello, Margaret,” she greeted, and before she could be stopped, she quickly added, “Sorry, I can’t stop and talk with you now. I’m heading to my grandfather’s house. He has something important he wants to talk to me about, and I mustn’t keep him waiting.”

“Oh, Bridget, can’t I come with you?” asked Margaret. “I haven’t got a thing to do. Please let me.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Bridget said, and shook her head. “This is family business and Grandfather might not like anyone else present while he talks to me.”

Margaret’s face tensed, and she scowled. “You are so lucky, Bridget, to have a rich relative who thinks so much of you. I wish I were in your shoes.”

Bridget laughed and tried to cheer her cousin up, “Don’t look so glum, Margaret. I may be spending more time at the castle now, and if I do, I will see to it that you come and visit me often. But now I must hurry. It is getting darker, and I want to get there before they sit down to supper.” With a wave of her hand, she hurried on her way.

Margaret stood unmoving and watched Bridget go with an odd look on her usually somber face.

A
s Bridget neared the bluff above the ocean, she could hear the waves crashing on the rocks below and the plaintive calls of seagulls and curlews nesting down for the night. The birds’ cries sounded eerie in the fading light.

A brisk wind was blowing in from the North Sea as Bridget climbed the hill to the castle grounds. She was breathing hard when she reached the top. She stopped for a moment to watch the rays of the setting sun. Having inherited her grandfather’s love of the sea, this had always been one of her favorite spots and she never tired of looking at it.

As she entered the gate of the stone wall surrounding the estate, a brown and white collie came running to meet her. Rearing up on his hind legs, he put both paws on her shoulders and uttered guttural sounds of welcome.

“Hello there, Sarge, you beautiful thing, I’m glad to see you too,” she said, stopping to caress the dog. It was nice to see he was still spry, like a giant puppy who would never grow old. “Where’s Robert? Let’s go look for him, shall we?”

The dog bounded off a little ways and barked as he went, but then stopped to let her catch up, tail wagging furiously.

They walked towards the stables located some distance from the house. She was certain that her grandfather would be there. As she came closer, she turned her nose up as the pungent smell of horses reached her nostrils.

Hearing Sarge’s barking, Robert MacDonald emerged from the stables and came towards her, a big grin on his face.

“Bridget, my girl,” he cried out, “so you did come. And looking more beautiful than ever. I was afraid I might have frightened you off with my request.”

Bridget smiled with amusement and secret pleasure that he didn’t judge her for her clothes. Her grandfather had always been direct and appeared truly glad to see her. Bridget was surprised to feel a wave of joy flow through her, catching her up and moving her forward. Laying the basket she carried on the ground, she reached out to embrace him warmly. “Grandfather, you old charmer, I don’t know how you do it, but you nearly always get your way, don’t you? And yes, I have decided to be hostess for your club supper, but I don’t know about moving in with you. I shall have to give that some serious thought.” She wondered how sincere he was in his welcome. She knew him to be a proud man, not one to apologize or admit past mistakes. But she was a proud lass, not one to forgive without being asked.

“Well, my dear,” said Robert, clearly pleased by what she had said, “first things first, eh? We’ll talk about that later, but I’m right proud you have decided to come to the party I am giving.”

Putting his arm about her shoulders, he went on, “Supper will be ready shortly but now come and meet my right hand man, Aidan MacLeod.”

Bridget had seen him from a distance before but never had an occasion to be introduced.

“Aidan, lad,” yelled the old man toward the interior of the stable, “come on out here. I want you to meet my granddaughter.”

“Be there in a minute, sir, soon as I get some of this muck off my hands,” a deep male voice yelled back. Bridget recoiled at his words, hoping he didn’t plan to shake her hand until it was clean.

While waiting for him to join them, Robert said, “Aidan is a nice lad, Bridget, and I would like you to become good friends with him. He has certainly made himself indispensable to me, and I don’t think I could get along without him now.”

She bit back a reply that she was old enough now to choose whom she befriended. “He is from the Highlands, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Yes he is, lass, and quite ambitious. Very anxious to make something of himself. I could see this when I first met him on one of my visits there, so I decided to give him his chance, and it has worked out well for both of us. He is young still but hard-working and has a great love for animals, horses especially are in his blood. I had him take special training for his line of work and it has definitely been to his advantage. He has bred and raised some fine animals for the laird out at Pholorth Castle. The word has got around about the grand work he does along this line and our business is flourishing.” 

The object of their conversation emerged from the stables. Bridget suddenly felt self-conscious again at her appearance. The way Aidan’s smile grew upon taking her in was equally reassuring and disconcerting. She noticed he was clad in brown riding breeks, knee high boots, and a loose-fitting tan jersey. As he walked towards them, he slapped his leather boots with his riding crop.

“Ah, Aidan my lad,” said Robert, looking back and forth between the pair, “this is my favorite granddaughter, Bridget Campbell. I want you two to become better acquainted with each other.” Then, looking at Bridget proudly, he added, “She has agreed to be the hostess at my club supper I am giving next month.”

Aidan came forward and extended his hand in greeting towards Bridget. It appeared rough, but at least it was clean.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Bridget. I feel that I already know you quite well. Mr. MacDonald often talks about you.”

Bridget was surprised by his words and was already of a mind not to like him after Robert’s urging, but not wanting to appear rude she shook his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you too, Aidan, and you must forgive Robert if he boasts about his family.” She said the last word pointedly, not liking how out of place she felt while he, a relative newcomer, seemed at ease.

Aidan smiled, his dark eyes burning into hers. The touch of his hand brought disturbing sensations. Color reddened Bridget’s cheeks as she gazed into his rugged face, suntanned to a deep brown beneath tousled black hair. His face was clean shaven, making him appear a few years older than she despite the weathered skin. His lopsided smile gave him an insolent look. He was a picture of health and surely attractive, but there was something ruthless about him that made her apprehensive.

They gazed at each other for a long moment. She barely repressed a shudder as she realized he was still holding her hand.

Smiling, Robert broke in, “Well now, shall we get going to the house? Supper should be ready, and we better get there before Besse gets upset.”

Bridget pulled her hand from Aidan’s grasp and picked up the basket she had brought from home. She accepted her grandfather’s arm gladly, surprised at how comfortable she was with him, as if she were a child again. She felt safe as he led her away, but from what, she wondered?

The three people walked towards the house, she and Aidan on opposite sides of Robert, Sarge trotting along at their heels.

The house was a replica of a medieval castle that had been built by Robert’s grandfather, Bridget’s great, great grandfather. She’d been told that he was a retired sea captain who had come down to the Lowlands after the defeat of Prince Charles Edward on Culloden Field in 1746 and the resulting clearances of the Highlands, when chiefs were outlawed and all clans ordered to disband. Many of them emigrated en masse to the new Americas, leaving their beloved homeland forever.

Robert’s forbearer had preferred coming to the Lowlands to be near the sea, his intention being to reconstruct the ruins of the old Fraser Castle that stood on Kinnaird Head, a point of land jutting into the North Sea, and also to build a much needed lighthouse on the point.