The Highlander's Servant: Book One of the Highlander Possession Series (16 page)

             
As Kirstin closed the distance from the streets to the Lester’s home, the awkward greetings ended. People dispersed, especially since the Lester’s home was near town, but not near enough for people to follow her with questions.

             
Kirstin tied Jack up to a tree outside their home. She took her pack and wrapped it firmly around her torso, and then approached the Lester’s home, which was surrounded by flourishing green grass and day lilies, and a few trees here and there. Then, taking a deep shaky breath, Kirstin knocked not once, but twice. Her knocks echoed throughout the house the same way they echoed through her racing heart, hard and loud. Each pounding on the door seemed to make her all the more anxious, and only then did she begin to rethink her journey. She had regret when it came to her recklessness, but yet she could not regret seeing her mother in such hard times.

             
So, when the door finally opened and a smirking Davie Lester stood on the other side, Kirstin suddenly began regretting everything, including the journey to see her mother. It was this one, red haired boy who had caused Kirstin all the trouble to begin with; from being taken away, to the death of her father. An epiphany struck her from this thought, making her take blame on Davie for her father’s death. She met Davie’s comical look with a harsh glare, and demanded, “Where is my Ma?”

             
Davie’s eyebrows rose, “It seems that ye have grown since I last saw ye. Yer more,” he put a finger to his chin as he thought, “What’s the word? Belligerent.”

             
“I am surprised ye even know such a term.” Snapped Kirstin, “Now where is my Ma?”

             
Venom was cut through Kirstin’s tone as she used all seriousness to get around Davie’s teasing. He watched her for a long time though, observing her mature expression and the light in her eye that held a flame that he had not seen in the girl before. He soon realized that Kirstin was no longer a girl though, and this woman before him had changed in not only appearance, but also more so in heart and spirit.

             
“Very well then,” Davie gave a defeated sigh, “Yer mother is this way.”

             
Davie did not even wait for Kirstin to begin following. He left the door open for her and she entered, shutting the door back before looking around the foyer. The Lester’s home was elegantly furnished with much more space and rooms than she had ever grown to know in her own house. She had always been jealous of Davie and his family’s status. His father, an advocate of court, brought home a decent amount of money to support his family. Rarely, were they ever in need of anything, unlike Kirstin’s family who was always in need of something.

             
Even the walk to the tearoom was long to Kirstin. Davie motioned to a loveseat within the room that was facing away from Kirstin, as Mrs. Lester sat on another chair. Kirstin’s heart beat furiously inside her chest as she recognized her mother sitting in the loveseat. Mrs. Lester’s face contorted into a look of shock when Kirstin entered, making her mother turn around in her seat to look at her daughter.

             
Kirstin could not tell what was more puzzling, the way her mother looked at her in a furious rage or the fact that she was elegantly having tea instead of mourning the death of Mr. Croft.

             
Kirstin, taken aback, asked breathlessly, “Yer no’ glad to see me?”

             
“Glad?” Mrs. Croft asked as if she were thinking over the word, “Where is Laird Bateson?” she asked once more but this time with concern.

             
“I canna say,” Kirstin answered honestly, her cheeks becoming rosy as she thought of her betrothed.

             
Her mother looked even madder after she had said that and Kirstin rushed out, “So, yer no’ glad to see me?”

             
“Nay, Kirstin!” she shouted, “Ye could have been hurt coming down here alone, or worse, the plan could be in utter ruin!”

             
Kirstin took a step back, “Plan?” she was perplexed, “What plan?”

             
Right then, Mrs. Croft’s face changed to a kind expression, and Kirstin could have sworn her sincerity was fake, “My plan.” She explained, “I was going to come see ye!”

             
Kirstin brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and asked hopefully, “Really?”

             
“Aye, of course.”

             
Kirstin grinned, a heart-warming smile touching her lips as she thought about her mother striving to see her in such hard times. Then a peculiar thought struck her, “When were ye going to see me?”

             
Mrs. Croft looked from Kirstin to Mrs. Lester and laughed, “Why, after I had finished my tea!” The gesture made Mrs. Lester laugh with Mrs. Croft, all the while Kirstin watched them. Kirstin could not decipher her mother, now, from the one she had see only mere months ago. Was this really her mother? A mother who did not mourn the death of her husband, and instead gossiped and joshed, while having tea? It was all too much, in comparison; to the loving and caring mother Kirstin had once known.

             
“Come, Kirstin, donna look at me like that.” Mrs. Croft pushed, “Take a seat, have a cup of tea, and then mayhap ye can run some errands for me?”

             
Kirstin watched her for a second longer before Mrs. Croft patted the seat next to her with an expectant look. Without saying another word, Kirstin sat down and watched as Mrs. Lester filled another cup of tea.



              Lachlan, unfortunately, had to take another horse since Kirstin had taken his. Nevertheless, he rode as fast as the horse could gallop, often times looking around his surroundings for the blonde haired beauty, for his betrothed. He only stopped for the mercy of the horse, but they were short breaks, as clearly, the more important matter was getting Kirstin back.

             
Only a few hours left before he reached Kirstin’s small town, and when he found her, he would bring her home.             

Chapter Twenty

              “So how are ye so changed?” Davie had asked Kirstin, as the two of them walked in the streets of town. Both of their mothers had insisted that they go together to pick some things up from the marketplace. Much to Kirstin’s dismay, she could not get away from Davie or his countless number of questions.

             
“I am no’ changed. Now leave me alone.” Kirstin had said, giving him the cold shoulder and going to a table. She observed the herbs and spices that the man was selling, and picked up a small pouch of sage before walking away.

             
“Then how do ye explain the way yer walking? Or the way ye can so easily ignore me now?” Davie pushed, unnerving Kirstin to the bone.

             
She raised one single eyebrow at him and asked, “What do ye mean by the way I am walking?”

             
“Well,” Davie scratched his head, trying to think of a way to tell her, “Here, let me show ye!” He took several steps away from Kirstin and stood tall with his shoulders back. Then the boy stuck his nose into the air and walked with his body straight, as if mocking a lady. It was more than an exaggeration, and caused many people in the streets to stop and watch the boy’s odd behavior.

             
Kirstin instantly grabbed his arm and hissed, “Stop it. Yer making people look at us.”

             
“Ye see! This is what I am talking about. Yer so much more,” his face contorted in a grimace, “mature. It really is quite boring.”

             
“I am no’ changed, Davie.” She hissed, “Now get it out of yer head and stop with the questions.”

             
The red haired boy grinned up at her but defended himself, “I canna help it, I swear.”

             
“Aye, I fear yer right.” She mocked his grin; “For Davie Lester shall always be a boy and never a man.”

             
Right when he had expressed his distaste for her insult, and was ready to retort, Kirstin walked away from him.

             
By the time they had retrieved everything that was on the list, Kirstin was exhausted from doing most, if not all, of the shopping. Davie picked fun at her the entire time but she was clever in her responses, each time retorting with something better than what he had come back with.

             
They had walked back to the Lester’s home alone, both gazing at the setting sun which casted an array of warm colors into the sky.

             
“Whose horse is that?” Davie had interrupted Kirstin’s peaceful thoughts, causing her to come back to reality. They had arrived at the house, and tied up next to Jack was a brown horse with a darker main and tail.

             
“I donna ken.” Kirstin said honestly. She had not seen the horse before and if she had, then she surely did not remember it. Something put her on edge about the strange horse, and how close of proximity it was tied up to Jack. The black beast did not get along with just anyone, or any horse, unless he was well acquainted with them. That’s when a thought hit Kirstin, Perhaps Jack did know this other horse, which would mean one thing only: Lachlan was here.

             
Davie had just been going up the steps to the front door, until Kirstin grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his sleeve. She pulled him back and pleaded to him, “Davie, we canna go inside that house.”

             
He looked at her with confusion etched on his brow, “Why no’, Kirstin? ‘Tis only but my home. Say,” He said once more, “Are ye feeling all right? Ye look pale.”

             
Kirstin regained her composure and patted down her brown dress, “Aye, I am.” She lied, “But I think we forgot something in town.”

             
“Like what?” he asked, turning to face her more.

             
“Er,” Kirstin hesitated, “socks. Aye, we forgot socks! Ye see,” she explained, sweat coating her brow, “I donna have any socks because they became torn from my long trip.”

             
Davie waved her off, “Then, we will get them in the morrow.”

             
He reached for the door again, but Kirstin grabbed his arm once, “Nay! Ye donna ken what I am about to get into if I walk into that house.”

             
He looked at her, his eyes penetrating her sterling blue ones and asked, “What do ye mean?”

             
As if to answer her question, the door abruptly pushed open and out came Mrs. Croft who looked flushed, “Kirstin!” she breathed out relieved, “Thank God yer home. Come, Laird Bateson is here and is looking for ye.”

             
With regret filled eyes and a horror stricken face, Kirstin gave Davie one last longing look before Mrs. Croft practically yanked her into the house. Davie slowly followed after them, all the while Kirstin tried to struggle out of her mother’s iron grasp.

             
“Would ye stop that?” Her mother hissed through clenched teeth, still dragging her down the hallway until they stopped at the tearoom. The door to the tearoom was shut, and Mrs. Croft stopped in front of it and then turned to face her daughter, “’Tis yer fault he is here. Now, go and talk to him.”

             
Kirstin glared at her mother, “’Tis yer fault ye let him take me away in the first place!”

             
After Kirstin said those words, her mother slapped her daughter’s face lightly and said sinisterly, “If I had it my way, it woulna have been so. Now, go!”

             
Mrs. Croft opened the door widely, and pushed her daughter inside. She then shut the door back and Kirstin was left staring at it from only a foot away.

             
She gulped, knowing all too well who else would be in the room.

             
“Kirstin,” his voice was low and rough, “Yer in big trouble.”

             
She had no choice when turning around to face him, and her heart had stopped beating for a bare second when she did. Lachlan, whose skin had the lightest coat of sweat, stared at her with such a penetrating glare that she could have sworn she was seeing into the devil’s eyes for a bare moment. His clothes stuck to him, molding his body into a sculpture of pure affection. His dark hair was disheveled and his jaw was clenched to suggest how angry he really was.