Michelle Willingham - Highlanders - The Warrior and the Rose / The Forbidden Highlander / Rescued by the Highland Warrior

He was bewildered. “Why would he hide?”

“He has started to behave oddly, with distress—he has been asking to go home to his father.”

An odd look that she could not decipher crossed his face. “I’ll help ye look fer him.”

They went outside into the bailey, Alasdair telling her to search the area by the front gates. As they headed off in opposite directions, Juliana became dismayed when she saw the front gates were open. But even a small boy would be remarked if he walked out of Dunyveg—surely.

Another hour passed, in which Juliana became extremely alarmed. No one had seen Roger, and she had searched every nook and cranny of the bailey. She asked a passing lad if he knew where Alasdair was, and she was told he was in the stables.

Trying to reassure herself, Juliana hurried across the bailey and into the stone stables. It was dark within, smelling pleasantly of hay and horses. As she entered, a dog ran up to her, its tail wagging, and several mares nickered.

Alasdair stepped out of the shadows and placed a finger upon his lips, then nodded to his right.

Juliana rushed forward. Alasdair took her arm and guided her to where an old mare was stalled, a young foal suckling at her side. Roger was curled up in the chips and hay, in a far corner of the stall, asleep.

She inhaled in relief. Alasdair put his arm around her and pulled her close. She looked up at him, feeling a rush of gratitude. “We have to wake him. I’m surprised that mare allowed him inside with her colt.”

“Let me do it,” he said.

Juliana assumed that he did not want her to go within, in case the mare decided to behave protectively towards her foal. She watched him step inside, pat the mare, then carefully sidestep her and kneel by Roger. He lifted him into his arms and carried him outside.

As he did, Roger awoke.

Alasdair smiled at him. “Did ye come to see the newborn colt?”

Roger became widely awake. His eyes huge, he shook his head.

Alasdair stepped outside the stall, closed it, and set Roger down. “Did ye think to find a horse, then, and ride away?”

Juliana started. Why would he ask such a question!

Roger was tearful and belligerent. “I don’t like being a hostage.”

“I ken.” He stroked his hair. “No one likes being held hostage, but it’s the way of men.”

Roger shook his head fiercely. “I hate it here!”

Alasdair knelt. “I ken. But ye have a duty to yer mother. Ye frightened her, Roger, hiding as ye did, and thinking to run away. Ye frightened yer aunt. Yer duty is to be strong and brave like yer father. Do ye not wish to be like William?”

“Yes,” he finally said, his gaze riveted upon Alasdair. “Will I ever go home?”

“Of course ye’ll go home. But until ye do, ye must take care of yer mother. Ye canna worry or frighten her again. I ken, ’tis hard being brave. Even when yer grown like I am. But a man dinna have a choice, Roger. Every man has a duty to his kin to be strong and brave.”

Juliana was moved. She had not known Alasdair could be so gentle and kind with children.

Roger continued to gaze keenly at him. “But you’ve never been afraid. You’re Alasdair Og!”

“Sit with me.” Alasdair sat down on a bale of hay, and Roger sat down beside him, enraptured. “A long time ago, when I was much younger than ye, I was sent away from my mother and my father. I was a hostage too.”

Juliana started. She had never heard a word of this before!

Roger’s eyes popped. “You were a hostage?”

“Aye, the King of Scotland held me hostage, for he was very angry with my father. I was sent to him with only a maid.”

Roger bit his lip. “You did not have your mother?”

Alasdair laid his hand on his shoulder. “No. But ye have yer mother, yer aunt, and yer brothers with ye. Ye must remember that.”

Roger nodded. “Were you scared?”

“Yes. It was very hard being strong and brave.” His regard serious, he added, “I dinna ken I would ever go home, but I did. And as soon as yer ransom is paid, ye will go home, but ye must vow ye’ll not run away again.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Alasdair stood up. He suddenly started, as if he’d forgotten that Juliana stood there.

She could barely breathe. How was it that he had never mentioned this to her before?

He smiled slightly at her, allowing Roger to precede them out of the stables. As they crossed the bailey, Juliana’s mind raced. She finally took his arm and halted; he faced her, his expression wry.

“I did not know you were a hostage when you were a child!”

“My father went to war for the King of Norway and Haakon and he lost.” He shrugged. Then, “I ken what the boy is feeling.”

Her heart raced. “How old were you?”

“Almost two.”

He had been sent away as a hostage, without his mother, at the age of two? Of course he understood Roger.

“Dinna look at me that way,” he warned, but mildly.

“How long were you held hostage?”

“Close to three years.”

Juliana bit her lip, tears rising. She seized his hand. “Your poor mother! You must have been so frightened! And to be kept hostage for so long!”

“Dinna feel sorry for me.” He shrugged her off, his look filled with warning. “Little boys grow up.”

Of course she was stricken—and she felt sorry for what he must have endured. But Juliana found her composure. “Alasdair. Thank you for being so kind to Roger.”

He softened. “Did ye think I’d be unkind?”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A MESSENGER FINALLY arrived—with letters from the Earl of Buchan and Alexander MacDougall.

Juliana was in the great room with her sister and Lady MacDonald, seated before the hearth, sewing. Roger and Donald were outside, playing on the beach, and little Thomas was asleep upstairs. The moment the men came inside, their loud voices and heavy booted steps could be heard. Alasdair walked in first.

Juliana saw that he was holding several rolls of vellum, and that a man she did not recognize was behind him with Angus Mor. That Highlander wore Buchan’s green-and-red plaid.

Word about their ransoms had finally come. She slowly got up, her heart thundering, as Alasdair walked directly to her. “Yer brother has written us both,” he said.

She could barely look away as he handed her the roll that was hers.

“And William? Did he send me a missive?” Mary cried.

Alasdair handed her a parchment roll. “Aye, that is from William. But before ye read it, Buchan has agreed to pay yer ransom, Lady Mary, and ye will probably be free by June, as soon as the payment is made.”

Mary nodded, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. “June,” she whispered. It was April the second now.

Juliana tore her gaze from Alexander’s. June was not far away, and would she be free then, too? And if so, why did she feel an odd dismay?

Juliana glanced at Mary, who remained seated, and was now eagerly reading William’s letter. Tears fell from her eyes. Juliana hurried to sit beside her, still clutching her own parchment roll. “Is everything well?”

She looked up, nodding, as she wiped at her tears. “He is fine. He misses me. He misses the boys. He has been told I am in good health. And he does not say a word about the war that will surely come soon.”

He did not want to worry her, Juliana thought. “June is not far away,” she said, patting her hand.

“I will not see William in June. The baby is due in July. I will not be able to travel.”

Juliana twisted to look at Alasdair, darkly. He was reading his letter, but he glanced across the room at her. She knew he understood her meaning—he should release Mary now, so she could have her child at home.