Loyal to the Laird at Christmas Read online

  Unlike the Highlands, the Scottish Lowlands had enjoyed an unprecedented period of peace and prosperity and Blayne had plans to buy a fine house in Edinburgh. Intending to move between town and country at leisure, enjoying the advantages of both.

  It had been a typical day for Blayne, and he was sitting alone at supper, perusing a volume of poetry which had just arrived and eating a bowl of soup. In all things he was modest and despite his wealth he preferred not to show any ostentation in his habits and ways. A single candle was burning on the table and he had dismissed the servants to their rest for the evening.

  He was about to snuff the candle and take to his bed, for he was tired after the day’s work and knew that the morrow would bring further demands upon him. He closed his book just as the sound of voices could be heard from outside—an unusual occurrence given the hour—and suspecting trouble; he took up his sword just as a loud rapping came upon the door.

  “Who goes there? Name yourself,” he called from the hallway.

  “Blayne Gordon, my name is Hector Mackintosh, and I have come with several other men of our clan to bring ye greetin’ from the north and news ye shall wish to hear,” the voice from outside came.

  Blayne had not heard such a strong scots accent in many a year and lowering his sword he went cautiously to the door. Through the window he could see the men gathered outside, three in total, all in the tunics and bonnets so redolent of the northern country. Cautiously he opened the door, for he was still somewhat wary of them despite their words. But what came next was entirely unexpected.

  “Hail, Laird of the Mackintosh and master of the glen, hail he who our chief,” Hamish Mackintosh said, and the three men bowed low to Blayne who looked at them in astonishment.

  “I think ye have the wrong man,” he said, shaking his head and laughing, “I am nay Laird, my name is Gordon, Blayne Gordon, and these are my estates here. If ye men are lost, then I shall gladly direct ye but …”

  “There is nay mistake, sir, tis’ ye we have come to see. Yer father was a cousin of the Laird, was he nae? But ye will have nae heard the tragic news of our own dear Laird’s death upon the crag these months past. James Mackintosh fell to his death and since he has nay children and nay other heir is closer tis’ ye that we now proclaim as Laird, Blayne Gordon,” Hamish said, and once again the three men bowed to him.

  Blayne still could not take this in and he wondered whether this was not all some elaborate trick to lull him into a false sense of security before robbing him and ransacking the house. His hand was still upon his sword hilt, but Hamish stepped forward and held out a scroll of parchment, sealed with the crest of the Mackintosh clan.

  “Perhaps this will make things clearer,” Hamish said, and he handed the scroll to Blayne with another bow.

  Hamish broke the seal and squinting in the moonlight he began to read. It was a letter from Una, explaining the sad circumstances which had befallen the clan and urging Blayne to help them in their hour of need. She asked him to travel at once to the Highlands and see himself proclaimed as Laird before the clan. It was imperative, she wrote, that order be maintained, else there was no hope for any of them in the years to come, as warring factions would vie for control. She also included many details about his father, which none but one who knew the family tree intimately could have known.

  “So … this is true?” Blayne said, looking up as he finished reading, his face still set in disbelief.

  “Aye, tis’ all true, Laird, and we are charged with bringin’ ye safely hame to the castle,” Hamish replied.

  “But … but this is my home, I cannae just leave it for some fanciful expedition to the Highlands, tis’ all too much to believe,” Blayne said, shaking his head, as though he expected to wake up from a dream any moment and find himself upstairs in bed.

  “Ye had best believe it, sir, for we set out tomorrow. Yer clan needs ye and I am sure the good folks of this fine place will be just fine without ye for a while. Once order is established ye can return, tis’ nae unheard of for the Laird to live elsewhere, but when ye see the castle and the glen I am certain ye shall wish to be nay where else,” Hamish said, looking around at the others who nodded enthusiastically.

  Blayne gave several feebler excuses but Hamish and the others were having none of it and they drank his whisky and shared his fire for the rest of the night before preparing to set out the next morning. The three had come on horseback and they were surprised to discover that their new Laird had no horse of his own, nor proficiency in the saddle.

  “Ye shall have to ride behind me then,” Hamish said, shaking his head in disbelief, as Blayne admitted his equestrian deficiencies.

  “A Laird who cannae ride, have ye ever heard of such a thing?” one of the others said, and they all laughed heartily, though Blayne was far from amused.

  He was still entirely uncertain about what was to come, terrified lest the whole thing be a disaster. It was one thing to be master of a Lowland estate where gentle folks tended to their animals and crofters tilled the land. But the thought of a draft castle far north in the Highlands was far from his idea of an easy life. What of his town house in Edinburgh and the parties and social gatherings he would miss out upon? Blayne was a popular man amongst the local gentry but there was no time to wish anyone goodbye, as Hamish and the others swept him along and made ready for their departure.

  “But I have nothin’ with me, at least wait a while so that we can make preparations,” Blayne said, as Hamish and the others saddled up the horses for their return north.

  “There is nay time like the present, Laird. Dinna ye want to see yer clan and its lands? They are waitin’ for ye, the sooner we leave the sooner ye shall see them,” Hamish said, paying no attention to Blayne’s protests as he led him towards the horses.

  “But I cannae ride,” Blayne said, offering a last-ditch attempt to remain behind, “I shall join ye when I can, I promise.”

  “Nay, lad, now,” Hamish said, patting the horse’s mane and nodding to Blayne, who sighed and pulled himself awkwardly up onto the horse.

  “But I …” he began, but his words fell on deaf ears for a moment later Hamish was in the saddle and with a cry he urged the horse on towards the northern road as Blayne held on for dear life behind.

  ***

  It took several days of hard travel before they came in sight of the castle down in the glen. As they came over the brow of the hill Hamish reigned in the horse and pointed towards the home of the Mackintosh’s, a smile playing across his face.

  “What ye now survey is yers, sire, and nae a finer castle nor clan in all of Scotland,” he said, as Blayne scrambled down from the horse and looked on.

  He was saddle sore from the many days of riding and his whole body ached from sleeping in outbuildings and barns or the stables of lonely inns. Anything was better than that and right now the castle, with its thick walls and imposing keep appeared a welcoming sight.

  “Tis’ a fine lookin’ place,” he admitted, smiling at Hamish, who nodded.

  “Aye, Laird and tis’ all yers,” Hamish replied.

  Chapter 3

  A Disappointing Arrival

  Isla was sitting with Una in the Great Hall when the announcement of the new Laird’s arrival was made. The horses had been spotted on the track up by the crag and a great excitement went up around the castle as the news spread.

  “Well, we had best go and see him, I suppose,” Una said, rising from her spinning wheel and holding out her hand to Isla.

  The two had become close in the past months, closer than they ever would have been had James Mackintosh still been alive. Isla had dreaded the arrival of Blayne Gordon, for despite herself she felt angry towards him, though she knew such feelings to be irrational. It was not his fault he was here, but his presence would be a constant reminder that her own dear James was gone, replaced by a man who should never have had to replace him.

  “I am nae sure I want to see him,” Isla said, pausing as Una led her from her pl
ace by the fire.

  “Ye cannae avoid him forever, Isla, nae if ye still wish to come to the castle and spend time with me,” Una replied.

  “Oh, I dae, I dae,” Isla said, shaking her head, “I am sorry, I just …”

  “Ye miss, James, as dae I but the two of is must make the new Laird welcome, tis’ important for the clan to see,” Una said. “And ye have James with ye there, dinna forget that,” and she pointed to the sprig of white heather tucked into Isla’s tunic.

  Isla paused for a moment, steeling herself for what was to come. She knew her feelings towards Blayne were irrational and she felt guilty for even thinking them. It was foolish to dislike a man before even meeting him and it was not his fault that this sorry burden was now his. Nodding to Una, she took her arm again and the two women walked out to the courtyard where a crowd had already gathered in anticipation. Winter was coming now, and on the high mountains above snow had already fallen, the first flurries in the glen expected soon.

  “We shall have a harsh season ahead, mistress,” one of the women said, turning to Isla who nodded.

  “Aye, but let us hope our new Laird can bring some warmth and cheer to us all,” Isla replied, forcing her mouth into a smile, as the castle gates were pulled back.

  A cheer went up from the crowd as Blayne Gordon rode through the gates on the back of Hamish’s horse, a meek smile upon his face as he looked around him at the gathered clansmen.

  “Does he nae have his own horse?” Una whispered to Isla, who could not help but smile a little at the sight of Blayne riding awkwardly behind Hamish.

  “Hail Blayne Gordon, Laird of the Mackintosh, hail now Laird Mackintosh,” Hamish cried, as a cheer went up from the assembled clansmen.

  Isla watched Blayne with interest. He was a handsome man, with black hair and a noble figure, a little shorter than James and without the air of authority which her betrothed had seemed naturally to possess. He was looking around nervously, greeting those who stepped forward to bow or curtsey but as he glanced towards the keep his eyes met with Isla’s and she did her best to smile, nodding to him and curtseying alongside Una.

  His face broke into a blush and he looked away, as Hamish introduced him to several of the nobles. Despite the cold of the afternoon there was a merry atmosphere in the courtyard, as though a great relief had come upon the clan, now that they had found their Laird. That evening a feast was planned to celebrate the Laird’s arrival and it would be there that she and Blayne would be formally introduced.

  Isla bid Una a goodbye and pushing through the crowd she made her way home, casting a final glance back towards Blayne, who was still amid his people and looked thoroughly uncomfortable. Despite herself, she found her thoughts turning to comparison, and she concluded that Blayne Gordon was nothing like James. Outside the gates she looked mournfully up towards the crag on which he had fallen, longing to see him riding down to her, his hands outstretched to embrace her.

  “Foolish thoughts,” she said to herself, and shaking her head she began to walk home.

  ***

  “And what dae ye make of the Laird, lass?” her mother asked as they prepared for the feast that evening.

  “He is the Laird, the clan has decided, and that is that,” she replied, placing a fresh sprig of white heather into her tunic.

  “Ye must have some opinion upon him, after all, tis’ ye who were to marry the Laird. How does he compare to James?” her mother asked.

  “Mother, I dinnae wish to talk about James, ye know how it upsets me. The new Laird is nae James and I am sure he will dae a good job in his duties. Ye shall see him tonight when he is presented like a prize pig to us all,” Isla replied, for she was not particularly looking forward to the dinner.

  “He will nae wish to speak to the likes of me and yer father, but nae doubt ye shall be sat upon the high table with Una, will ye nae?” her mother asked.

  “I dinna ken, Mother, let us just go and get this over with,” Isla replied, and her mother sighed and made a comment about Isla’s manners.

  But Isla was not interested in anything that evening and she walked as though in a haze to the castle through the cold evening air. Her mother and father were full of chatter about the new Laird, but Isla could think only of James. This would be the first feast held in the castle since his sad death and she had no desire to eat and be merry whilst her dear James lay cold in the ground.

  Torches had been lit on either side of the gates and a throng of people were making their way towards the Great Hall. There was much excited chatter and Isla made small talk with those around her before one of the servants came to inform her that she would be dining as Una’s guest on the high table. Bidding her parents good evening, she followed the servant through the crowds until she found Una awaiting the pipers.

  “I am glad ye came, Isla, I thought perhaps ye would nae but we cannae live in the past. This is the present and we must accept that,” Una said, taking Isla by the arm.

  “I just … I just dinna want to celebrate when the rightful Laird lies dead in the ground,” Isla said, turning to Una, who smiled.

  “I have lost a husband and a son, tis’ a cruel world and we who are left in it must bear the price for having loved. But tis’ better to have loved and lost than nae to have loved at all. And ye have yer sprig of heather with ye always,” Una said, as the piper struck up his tune.

  Together, they filed into the Great Hall where the guests were already stood behind the long trestle tables. Every person that Isla knew was there and some women curtsied to her with a sorrowful look upon their faces, as though they knew the pain behind her eyes. She was grateful for that and as she and Una arrived at the high table, they took their places to await the Laird. All eyes now turned to the doors through which Hamish Mackintosh now led the Laird, accompanied by pipers.

  “Blayne Mackintosh, Laird of the Mackintosh clan and master of this castle and glen,” Hamish cried, and a cheer went up from the crowd, as Blayne walked nervously towards the high table.

  “He looks nervous,” Isla whispered to Una.

  “Wouldnae ye be if ye had such shoes to fill?” she said, and she pointed towards the portraits which lined the Great Hall and which now looked down upon their new heir with disdain.

  Hamish led Blayne to his place and stepped back, nodding for the Laird to say a few words in acknowledgement. But Blayne could only stutter, raising his hands as though he were calling children to silence.

  “Quiet,” Hamish barked, and the room fell silent. “Speak for us now, Laird.”

  “I … I …” Blayne began, as a hundred expectant faces looked up at him.

  “Come on,” Una whispered, and Isla could not help but stifle a smile.

  “I … I am … I am pleased to be here; I have traveled a long way from the south and now … now … I am here,” Blayne said, his words trailing off, as the clansmen shuffled restlessly in their seats.

  “And … we are grateful to ye, Laird,” Hamish said, raising his eyebrows and bringing his hands together in a round of applause.

  The rest of the clan joined in and the feast began, much to the relief it seemed of Blayne Gordon who began to eat, paying little attention to those around him. Isla watched him out of the corner of her eye. He certainly looked nervous and entirely unsure of himself, but perhaps that was to be expected. After all, he had only discovered his new title a week or so previously. It must be most unsettling to be plucked from a comfortable life in the Lowlands to the Lairdship of a Highland castle in the space of just a few days.

  “We will be introduced shortly,” Una said, turning to Isla, who nodded.

  “Tis’ a sad way to be introduced, ‘Isla Grant, the widow who never even made it down the aisle’,” Isla replied.

  “There is much more to ye than just the lot of a widow, Isla, and the new Laird will be pleased to meet ye. I am sure,” Una said, as Hamish walked to the end of the table and signaled for them to accompany him.

  With the nobles of the clan now f
ormally introduced and the feast coming to its end, Isla and Una waited patiently behind the Laird’s seat for him to finish eating. He had made little effort to engage with those closest to him and Isla had already heard Hamish muttering to one of the men that the Laird would need to try far harder if he expected to maintain control.

  At last Blayne Gordon, or Mackintosh as he must now be known, rose from his seat, and turning his eyes met those of Isla for the second time that day. He blushed, a little taken aback to find the two women stood behind him, but Hamish stepped forward and the formal introductions were given.

  “Laird, may I present to ye, the Lady Una, widow of the later Laird and mother of … the late Laird,” he said, his voice sounding awkward, as Una curtsied.

  “Perhaps I was wrong about widowhood,” she whispered to Isla, casting a withering look at Hamish who blushed with embarrassment.

  “A pleasure to meet ye, Laird and I am sure ye will find there is more to me than simply the relation of death,” she said, as Blayne nodded to her.

  “A pleasure to meet ye, and may I assure ye that I shall always honor the memory of yer husband and yer son,” he replied.

  “That is all I ask,” Una replied, stepping to one side, as Isla came forward.

  “And ye are the Laird’s sister, are ye?” Blayne said, as Isla shook her head, an involuntary tear forming in her eye.

  “Nay, sir, this is Isla Grant, she is … she was …” Hamish began.

  “I am James’s betrothed, we were to be married in the spring,” Isla said, forgetting the dictates of custom and holding out her hand.

  “I … I see, and so again I say I am sorry for yer loss and I realize my presence may well be a painful one for ye,” Blayne replied, taking her hand and bowing, “but I shall dae my best always to honor the memory of James, who I believe was a fine Laird, a fine Laird indeed.”