Page 28 of Highlander’s Bride

Chapter 13

Two days later…

The Scottish Highlands rolled in front of Bryanna as far as she could see. God, could anyone ever get used to this view? The endless, leaden sky, the colors of rust, moss, and yellow ochre spilling over mountains dotted with dark patches of pine trees.

And would she have ever seen this beauty back in the twenty-first century? Would she ever have allowed herself to go into the deep wilderness of Scotland with nothing except for a purse with three insulin pens?

Never.

Bonnie, the horse she was mounted on, snorted peacefully and lowered its head to the ground to graze. Raghnall’s horse, standing next to hers, did the same, and the soft sound of ripped grass added to the gentle whooshing of the wind in Bryanna’s ears.

“Ye’ve done well, lass,” Raghnall said, gazing at the view. “I didna think ye’d be able to go this far.”

She chuckled. “Thanks.”

His profile was calm, the strong, straight nose, the deep-set, beautiful dark eyes under thick eyebrows. She’d never noticed, but when he smiled with his eyes, the small wrinkles at their corners made him look ten years younger, and his soul ten pounds lighter.

“We can ride down this way.” He gestured at a thin path down the slope among the rocks and boulders. “There’s the last homestead I havena visited as the new lord. We can have a meal there, on the shore of the river.”

Her stomach tightened at the prospect of letting the horse go down the steep path, but she knew she could do it. And she trusted Bonnie. Bryanna clapped on the mare’s neck gently. “We ladies stick together. We can do it.”

Raghnall nodded and gave her a few tips on how to act, and then he led the way. Bryanna’s breath caught as Bonnie’s hooves slipped on a rock one time and sent a small shower of rubble down the steep slope, but the mare was able to recuperate and calmly proceeded down the barely visible path. They passed small patches of short grass, heather, wildflowers, and moss-covered rocks. After the steepest part of the path, the decline lessened, and Bonnie could walk easier and faster.

Soon, they were arriving at a simple croft—a stone house with a thatched roof, a cowshed, a barn, and a toolshed. A man, a woman, and three children between the ages of twelve and sixteen were working in a small field, gathering the dried hay with pitchforks and throwing it into heaps. A teenage boy stood atop one heap, picking up the hay thrown at him and tossing it onto the top.

“God bless!” called Raghnall.

The people stopped working and stared at them, frowning.

“Are ye the new lord?” asked the man.

He was in his forties, a graying, shaggy beard sticking out on all sides.

Raghnall stopped his horse and jumped off. “I am. And this is my wife, Lady Bryanna Mackenzie. Ye must be Odhran. ’Tis what Eanar told me.”

In the past two days, Eanar had gotten confirmation that Raghnall was the lawful lord of Tigh na Abhainn. Despite how Raghnall disliked the man because of his initial mistrust, he had managed to talk to him and ask about the tenants.

“Aye. I remember ye as a lad. Ye came here with yer father, the old laird.”

Raghnall nodded, giving a small smile. “Aye.”

“Ye were a wee rascal, were ye nae?”

“My father kept reminding me of that.”

“Aye, yer father wasna an easy man.”

Bryanna’s heart squeezed as she heard that. She knew it was hard for Raghnall, and it broke her heart that his father hadn’t treated his son with the love and appreciation that hers had always shown her. They seemed to have had opposite childhoods. While she had been completely overprotected, he had been abused and neglected.

“Aye, but he’s long dead, and I came to get my rightful estate. I wanted to introduce myself and ask how yer farm is doing and if ye need anything.”

Appreciation lit up Odhran’s gray eyes and he scratched his head. “’Tis certainly something different than I had expected. Thank ye, Lord. We farm oats, as ye see, ’tis a small field and only lets us feed my family and the animals. Our main source of income is, of course, sheep.” He gestured at the low rising slopes of the nearby mountain where Bryanna saw gray and brown sheep grazing. “Wool, mostly. We do need the wool scissors sharpened and one fixed…”

As Odhran and Raghnall walked into the barn, Bryanna descended from the horse and smiled at the woman and the kids, who offered her tentative smiles, also.

The woman approached her as the kids resumed throwing the hay. “My name is Eamhair, mistress. Welcome to our modest homestead. May I offer ye a trout? My son caught three this morning and my youngest daughter is just roasting them for the midday meal. Ye came at the right time.”

Bryanna smiled. “Thank you, that would be very kind. We have some bread and cheese and boiled eggs we can share with you.”