Her Rebellious Heart: A Scottish Historical Romance (2 page)

             
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 him. Brought them from the farm yesterday.”

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

             
When 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 Bridget, her firstborn, leave home, but she felt it would be for the good of 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, she knew Bridget was perfectly capable of coping with either of them.

             
Bridget pondered her resemblance to her grandmother as she walked to the castle. She was small and neat like her mother's mother, with sparkling green eyes and a ready smile. She did not remember her grandmother well but had been told that her inherent good nature made her beloved by virtually all who knew her. 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 unfairness or domination, something that 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 showing off her modest clothes in front of her wealthy relative. She turned her thoughts instead to what her life would be like if she did move into the castle. Her pace increased, curls bouncing as she went.

             
It was only a fifteen-minute walk to the castle from where she lived, and 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 colorless and expressionless face. Born into a large family, she had been taken and raised by her grandparents. Although Bridget could never quite put her finger on anything in particular that was wrong, there was something about Margaret that brought out compassion for the girl. Bridget always tried to be kind and friendly towards her, though she rarely seemed to deserve it.

             
“Hello, Margaret,” she greeted her cousin, and before she could stop her, 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 happily 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.

Chapter 2

              As Bridget neared the bluff above the ocean, she could hear the waves dashing 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 quite hard when she reached the top, where she stopped for a moment to watch the rays of the setting sun. This had always been one of her favorite spots and having inherited her grandfather’s love of the sea, 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. “Where’s Robert? Let’s go look for him, shall we?”

             
The dog bounded off a little way 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 came to her nostrils.

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

             
“Bridget, my girl,” he cried out, “so you did come. I was afraid I might have frightened you off with my request.”

             
Bridget smiled with amusement. Her grandfather had always been direct. The offer seemed more real having heard him speak of it, and Bridget was surprised to feel a wave of joy flow through her. Laying the basket she was carrying on the ground, she reached up and took his face between her hands. She kissed him soundly on his bearded and mustachioed mouth before she answered, “Grandfather, you are an 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.”

             
“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.

             
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.”

             
“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. You were just a youngster when I bought him here and probably didn’t pay attention to him. He has a great love for animals, and 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 fine work he does along this line and our business is flourishing.”             

             
The object of their conversation, emerged from the stables. 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, “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. She noticed that his hand appeared work roughened and strong.

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

             
Shaking his hand, Bridget laughed, “I’m pleased to meet you too, Aidan, and you must forgive Robert if he boasts about his family too much, but I suppose that’s what grandfathers do.”

             
He 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 strong, rugged face, suntanned to a deep brown beneath tousled black hair.  His face was clean shaven and had a slightly one sided smile that gave him a sort of insolent look. He was a picture of health and was surely attractive, but for some reason she thought she would rather have him for a friend than an enemy. There was something ruthless about him, which made her apprehensive.

             
They gazed at each other for a long moment. She barely repressed a slight shudder as she realized he was still holding her hand. Bridget felt she had to say something to break the tension, “Aidan, that is an unusual name.”

             
Aidan smirked. “It is a family name.”

             
Bridget chuckled. “Are you saying you are related to Aidan, king of Dalriada?”

             
Aidan's thick eyebrows raised. “You know your history, lass.”

             
Bridget waited for him to deny a connection. 

             
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 put her arm through her grandfather's arm, feeling for the moment much safer, but from what, she wondered?

             
The three of them walked towards the house, she and Aidan on either side of Robert, Sarge trotting along at their heels.

             
Robert MacDonald's house was a replica of a medieval castle that had been built by his 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 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, which had been his life, 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.

             
But about that same time, the British Government decreed that no lighthouse could be privately owned, and they built one themselves on the only stable part of the old castle that was still standing.

             
Undaunted, Bridget’s ancestor leased several acres of land in close proximity to the lighthouse and built his own castle by the sea. In time, he became custodian of the lighthouse.

             
The home he built was two stories high with stone walls two feet thick and veneered on the outside with rough white harl. Bridget thought that it made a marked, pleasing contrast to the red tile roof. The four decorative turrets on each corner of the building and mock battlements around the roof gave the semblance of a castle. Two storage garrets atop the second floor were roofed in with red tile and came to within three feet of the battlements, creating a balcony all the way around, which was accessible by a doorway from one of the garrets.

              On the south side of the building, Robert had added a hexagonal-shaped room with walls of heavy glass on four sides and strong oaken shutters for protection against winter storms. The stables he had added to the estate when Aidan had come were matched to the castle with rough white walls and red tile roof.

             
Veritably, it was a show place, standing on a grassy knoll that sloped down to the sea and a sheltered sandy cove, girded on two sides by large rocks and tide pools. Bridget, now taking this all in, was awed by the thought that some day this might belong to her.

             
Her reverie was broken by Aidan’s voice asking,“Are you interested in animals at all, Bridget? I would like to show you around the place so you can get an idea of the work I do here. We have some very fine horses, which I’m sure you would enjoy getting acquainted with.”

             
“I have never been around animals very much, but I think I would enjoy seeing some of yours and getting to know just what you and Robert do around here.”

             
He smiled with amusement, “Fine, Bridget, anytime you say then.”

             
They had now reached the house and were met by Besse, the dour faced and forbidding housekeeper. Short and plump she was, with an ample bosom and the look of a woman who had lived a hard life. Judging by the look of her face now, Bridget thought that she had nothing much left to smile about.

             
“You’re late, sir,” Besse grumbled, “I’ve been holding supper for you.” The look she gave Bridget made her feel as if she was to blame.

             
“Besse,” said Robert, quite unperturbed, “my granddaughter will be having supper with us. Please set another place.”

             
Bridget sensed the woman’s displeasure and wished she could go home to eat but knew her grandfather wouldn’t hear of it. Trying to sound cheerful, she said, “Oh, Besse, here are some things my mother sent over.” She handed her the basket.   

             
Besse took it with as much grace as she was capable of, and answered,“Thank you, Miss Bridget, and thank your mum for sending them.”

             
Besse took the basket and flounced around the corner of the house towards the kitchen door.

             
Aidan, smiling enigmatically, said he would head to his quarters to wash up and change clothes for supper.

             
“Come, lass,” said Robert, “let’s go in the front way.” The front way was a heavy oaken door with the MacDonald in the center and the words Ty-Runach, Gaelic for “beloved house,” inscribed on a glass panel above the door.

             
Upon entering the parlor, Bridget looked around the beautiful room she had always admired. The lofty ceilings and wood paneled walls gave it an air of warmth and comfort, as did the deep red carpet on the floor. The east side of the room was dominated by a semicircular staircase of twenty red carpeted steps and on the wall at the turn landing hung a portrait of Robert’s wife, Bridget's grandmother Katherine.

             
Mahogany tables and chairs polished to a brilliant shine attested to Besse’s housekeeping ability. Objects d’art from foreign lands were everywhere, and although Bridget had seen the room many times, she now looked at it in a completely different light. She thought how wonderful it would be to actually live in this exciting atmosphere and make it her home.  

             
Across the spacious room on the west side was the large stone fireplace where a fire was always burning and another painting of a full rigged sailing ship hung on the wall above the mantle. Two leather armchairs were placed on each side of the fireplace and a leather upholstered settee sat directly in front of it.

             
On the north side of the room was the dining area just off the kitchen, which in turn was reached by a doorway under the stairway. On the far side from the dining area stood a magnificent grand pianoforte that Bridget has never seen before. Everything about the room looked elegant and inviting, but the pianoforte called out to her the most.              

             
Maybe Mum was right after all, Bridget thought. She could own it all some day if she tried her best to make Robert happy now. Looking around the room again she exclaimed, “How lovely everything looks, Granddad. So cosmopolitan with all your different artifacts, yet so cozy and home like.”