Highlander’s Twist 0f Fate (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Read online

  Highlander’s Twist of Fate

  Adamina Young

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  Contents

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  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Highlander’s Flaming Secret

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Also by the author

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  About the Author

  Prologue

  A battlefield in the Highlands, 1500s

  A sword lay alone in the grass, looking like a simple object and nothing more. Its razor-sharp edge dripped with blood. Its thirst had been slaked many times over this dark day. Around it, cries rang out, loud and sonorous. They were the anguished cries of men who fought doggedly for their lives, who wailed and shrieked when they realized that their last breath was upon them. Heavy footsteps thundered on the ground and made it quake as the armies clashed in this vicious skirmish. Steel sang as swords crunched against each other. Sharp arrows and spears whizzed through the air, and sometimes the arrows were so numerous they formed a cloud of death that blocked out the sun.

  The skirmish was a regular battle between Highlanders and the English. The borders were always fiercely contested and one side or the other usually sent forces over, just to remind the other that they still existed. There was bad blood between them and each battle was deadly with many casualties. In the midst of it, despite the hatred, many of them wondered why they were fighting, because this battlefield would be forgotten in the mists of time. This battle, this small conflict, would mean nothing in the history books. It would mean nothing to anyone except the people who fought here, and the families of those who perished in battle.

  The sword—this proud sword that had been forged by a talented craftsman—would be lost to time. The hand of its owner had been maimed, and it lay a few inches away, the hands still grasping for salvation. A crimson mist lingered in the air and the heavy smell of blood was thick and choking. Tunics were torn, leather armor was slashed away, and the screams of the dying faded into silence as the battle raged on.

  One participant in this battle was Robin Nelson, a tall, well-built man in his fifties who was battle-hardened and had seen far too many skirmishes for his liking. But his talents lay with a sword and throughout his life, he had made coin by serving the armies of the land, proving his valor and his courage time and time again in battle. His experience made up for his lack of youthful energy, but he knew in this battle there was something different, something wrong. His body wasn’t moving as quickly as it used to. There came a time in every soldier’s life when he had to face the reality that his best days were behind him and there were fewer days ahead. Rare was it for a soldier to die in his own bed, and Robin had a grim feeling that today was not going to be his day, but his resolute spirit ensured that he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

  One of the Highland villains had already managed to make him drop his sword. A heavy whack from a great club had almost shattered his shoulder and Robin had to dodge away, dropping his sword in the process. He evaded the next blow and managed to run, but it was no good being in battle without a sword. It was only a matter of time before a killing blow was struck.

  The fight was a maelstrom as angry faces snarled and growled all around him. His vision blurred as sweat dripped down his brow and stung his eyes. They all looked the same and it was impossible to tell friend from foe. Spittle flew from gnashing teeth followed by blood as people were stabbed through the throat. The warm liquid splashed over Robin’s armor and face. He tasted the scarlet drops and spat them out instantly, grimacing. Then, hope. In the midst of everything he saw a sword that had been dropped by someone. Enemy or friend, it didn’t matter. It was a weapon and it was his chance to survive one more battle.

  Robin scrambled over a trio of fallen bodies and crouched low, picking up the sword in one graceful movement. He swung it above and over his head, just in time to parry the blow of an axe that was coming to crash down upon him. He grunted as he summoned all his strength to repel the barbarous Highlander, who was as big as a bear, and Robin thrust his sword into the gut of the enemy. Entrails spilled out, followed by a waterfall of blood, as the Highlander gurgled and slumped to the ground, face down in the dirt.

  “Robin!”

  Robin turned around when he heard his name being called, but the battle was so fierce and chaotic that he couldn’t tell in which direction it had originated from. But he knew the voice—it was his old friend Alan Johnson—and a smirk tugged at his lips as he anticipated the moment when he and Alan would fight side by side again. No foe could stand up to the two warriors when they were together, and Robin was confident that it was only a matter of time before these Highlanders were put to the sword and the ground was soaked in their blood. Robin whirled his blade in his hands, getting used to the weight of this new sword, and looked around for the next foe to fight.

  But there were so many. Writhing bodies danced around him and he had to twirl and slash to fight them all off. He felt the blade being dragged through flesh and knew he was causing damage, but there seemed to be no end to the carnage or enemies. Robin looked around, trying to find Alan, fearing that his friend had been cut down. But then, he heard Alan cry out again.

  “Over here!” Robin cried as he turned to parry the wild slash of a Highland sword. He twisted his neck quickly and thought he saw Alan coming towards him, but he couldn’t quite be sure because everything was so quick and confusing that he was forced to focus on fighting off the attackers. There were so many of them it seemed as though his whole line had been slaughtered. He couldn’t see an ally anywhere, but knew Alan couldn’t be far. The campaign was a failure and the only thing he had to fight for now was his life, and a chance to escape the battlefield and return home to his family.

  Just as that thought entered his mind, he felt a sword pierce his back. It was just like a lowborn Highlander to make such a dastardly, craven move as stabbing a man in his back. All the strength slipped from Robin’s body. A light, dazed feeling rose through his mind, like bubbles, and the pain glowed white hot in his back. He fell to his knees and although he made a conscious effort to keep hold of the sword, he felt it slip from his grasp, and once again it was on the ground.

  Robin gurgled and reached around his back, trying to find the wound. His fingers found a wet and sticky patch. Blood gushed out, but although it was warm he felt cold, ever so cold. There was a strange metallic taste in his mouth and his head slumped forward. The world spun around him and his mind turned groggy. Where was Alan? Then his mind turned to his family, to Myra and sweet Ellen, and how he was never going to see them again. A tear trickled down his cheek and mixed with the blood that ran from the corners of his mouth as he thought about them and how he was never going to see Ellen get married or grow old and watch the sunset with Myra by his side.

  He fell to h
is knees, then his face hit the ground. He rolled over and looked up at the sky, at the billowy white clouds and the golden sun. A face appeared over him, blocking the sun. No...it couldn’t be…

  The sounds of the battle continued to rage around him, but they faded into the distance as he thought about his life, about the first time he felt a sword in his hand and how right it had felt, as though it was his destiny. He’d had the same feeling when Myra had placed her hand in his; that they were meant to be together. And although the years had not always been filled with joy (Myra was a tempestuous woman who was always quick to anger) he wouldn’t have changed anything. Ellen had been a lovely child, so beautiful like her mother, and as his heart took its last beats, it swelled with love.

  He died with happy thoughts in his mind…he was only worried for Ellen. She would miss him too much.

  1

  Ellen was sitting in the courtyard, basking in the afternoon sun. It never seemed to be warm even when the sun was at its highest. There was always a crisp edge to the air, but Ellen loved days like these. The sky was blue with just a few rolling clouds resting against the sapphire backdrop, the sun was as bright as a topaz, and the air was alive with the fresh scent of flowers. The aroma drifted up to her, caught on the gentle breeze, and she smiled with every deep breath.

  Ellen was twenty-two years old, although her features were youthful and people often thought she was a few years younger. This irked her as some, especially her father’s friends, had a tendency to treat her as a child. She had a heart-shaped face, almond-shaped eyes that had a violet hue, and a slight slope to her nose. Her chin was narrow and a dimple sat in the middle. Her face was flawless and her tawny-brown hair came down to the middle of her back, although she often wore it tied together in a ponytail, and a few errant strands blew around her face. Her body was slender, although she narrowed above the waist in the shape of an hourglass. Her hands were delicate and dainty, but she wished she was taller so that she could cut a more imposing figure and ensure that people didn’t treat her like a child.

  There was only one thing about days like these that she hated: the wait for her father to return. It was so peaceful here in the courtyard of their humble home that it was difficult to imagine a fierce battle was raging nearby. Ellen had always hated that moment when her father rode off to battle, because she knew it might be the last time she ever saw him. She tried not to let those morbid thoughts get the better of her, but it was so difficult, especially now that she was older and knew what the fighting entailed. When she was younger, it had simply been a matter of her father going off to work, as though he were a blacksmith or a merchant. How she now wished that he had chosen a line of work like that, one that didn’t put him in so much danger.

  She prayed and hoped that her father would return and that she was worrying for nothing. A locket rested against her chest and she played with it, turning it between her thumb and finger. The metal was cold against her skin, but it gave her a way to rid herself of this nervous energy.

  Ellen had been sitting outside for a little while when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother, Myra, emerging from the main house. The two women were of similar stature, although Ellen was thinner and her features were more delicate. Myra’s face was often set in a permanent scowl and she walked with a slight stoop, as though the world had burdened her and taken its toll. There were creases around the corners of her eyes and her hair was the same color as Ellen’s, but it was cut much shorter, resting at her shoulders in a frizz. She always walked as though she was on a mission, as though there was never enough time in the world to do everything she wanted to accomplish.

  Ellen’s heart sank when she saw Myra approach, as she knew another lecture was incoming. She took a deep breath to brace herself. Her hands reached around the stone bench and gripped it tightly, and she forced a smile.

  “Good afternoon Mother,” she said in her high-pitched, lilting voice.

  “Ellen, don’t you give me that sweet smile. We have to talk,” Myra said.

  Ellen rolled her eyes. “And don’t give me that either.” Myra jabbed a finger towards Ellen. “You know this has been coming, and if I have to tell you every day until it happens then so be it, but we need to talk about marriage.” Ellen opened her mouth to protest, but Myra held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it Ellen. I know how you feel. I hate to tell you, but it just doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. There are some things in life that we don’t get to choose, and this is one of them. You have to get married, otherwise you’ll become a spinster and you’ll end up dying alone in an old castle. You think your father and I will be around to look after you forever? No chance! You need a good man, a man who can give you prosperity and wealth so that you can have a family too. It doesn’t matter if you like it or not, but that’s the way the world works. You fall in love, you get married, and you have a family.”

  “Why?” Ellen asked. Myra blinked and tilted her head, for she hadn’t expected that particular question.

  “What do you mean ‘why’?”

  “I mean, why do I have to do all that?”

  “What else are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know…I could find passage on a ship and travel the world. I could become a jester and play in the King’s court.”

  Myra barked a laugh. “You’ve never even left the area! What are you talking about, going out to explore the world? That’s not a life made for people like us Ellen. Just know your place in the world, that’s the best thing you can do. Your father has worked hard to give you a new life, and now it’s time for you to give something back. You have to arrange a good marriage with a good man, and I don’t want any shenanigans like last time. What happened with that poor Thompson boy was horrible.” Myra shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “He deserved it. He had no sense of humor at all, and no appreciation for life.”

  “There are more important things to think about than that,” Myra said.

  “But what do you expect of me Mother? I can’t simply fall in love like that.” Ellen snapped her fingers and was unable to prevent a terse tone from creeping into her voice.

  “Nobody is expecting you to, all we’re asking is that you give it a chance to blossom. Love isn’t something that happens straight away.”

  “Father said it did. He always says that, whenever he talks about the day the two of you met.”

  A faint smile appeared on Myra’s face, even though she tried her hardest to force it away.

  “Yes, well, your father is a very rare case and some would say that he was a fool for rushing in so quickly,” Myra said with a twinkle in her eyes. “It just so happened that he was lucky enough to win me over in the end, otherwise all of his feelings would have been for nothing.” She sighed. “I don’t mean to lecture you and I don’t want to argue with you about this, but the simple fact of the matter is that the world is unkind to us. We only have a short time to make an impact, and men seem to value youth and beauty above all else. The years will roll by, Ellen, while you wait for magic to strike, but your beauty will fade and the men’s eyes will turn to younger, prettier maidens. I’m not asking this of you because I’m cruel, just because I know something of how the world works.”

  “It’s so unfair,” Ellen pouted. “Why do we have to do all these things we don’t want?”

  Myra shrugged. “That’s a question for the monks,” she said. “We can only do what we can to give ourselves a good life. Find a good man. In truth, you don’t even need to love him. Just liking him can be enough if he’s kind and generous to you. It’s better than being left behind.” Myra rested a hand against Ellen’s cheek and smiled softly. There was sadness in her eyes. Ellen’s head dipped.

  “I will try Mother, I promise you that, but I don’t want to marry unless I feel something inside.” She jabbed the middle of her chest with her fingers. “Like Father said I should.”

  Myra rolled her eyes. “Your father has filled you with to
o many romantic notions. I knew it was a mistake entrusting your education in these matters to him. I’ve always said that he’s never lived in this world. He should have been born centuries ago when princesses were locked in towers and they needed knights to rescue them. But we live in this world, and in this world pretty young girls like you have to get married, else you’ll be sitting out here for the rest of your life, waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

  Myra left Ellen to ponder their conversation. Ellen thought on her mother’s words and couldn’t escape the fact that it all seemed so unfair. This need to get married had plagued her ever since it had been mentioned when she left the innocence of youth behind and embraced her womanhood. Almost as soon as she had turned into a woman her parents had spoken about the possibility of her getting married. It was as though she didn’t even have a chance to forge a life for herself without being farmed away to another man, destined to do nothing but have his children and tend to his house. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly wrong with that, it was just that Ellen hated being told what to do, and told that there was nothing else she could do.

  Myra had always been the practical one between the two parents, so Ellen had preferred Robin’s company. Their souls shared a kinship and they saw life the same way. Robin extolled the values of making use of God’s gifts and encouraged Ellen that she could become anyone she wanted to be. He often spoke of how he was just a humble son of peasants with no hope of being anything in the world, but then one day a sword had been placed in his hand and he discovered a new talent. It was as though everything opened up for him then and because of his skill in swordsmanship, he had risen through the ranks and received great rewards and honor for his valor and courage. Sadly, even though Ellen was skilled with a sword as well, the battlefield was no place for a woman. She had become increasingly aware how the world was tilted in favor of men. She could be a maid, a cook, a wife, and a mother. There were few other possibilities.