The Highlander's Servant: Book One of the Highlander Possession Series (8 page)

             
She did not think twice about making her way to the trees from which the journal was hidden. Unable to get Lachlan off her mind, she could not think of a better way to satisfy her never-ending thoughts than to read his valuable words. Perhaps, she would receive answers from the journal, as to why he was behaving the way he did.

             
Reaching a hand between the roots of the tree from which it was concealed, she was grateful to touch the leather cover. A grin etched its way on her lips, and only a moment more had she clutched the journal close to her chest as if it were her most precious finding.

             
Kirstin sat amidst the field once more, her dress sprawled out around her and the sun’s beams making her skin glisten. Then, she opened the pages to the next entry. Her eyes scanned each line with accuracy as she read every word carefully.

             
It was no’ more than a couple of hours by the time my father had his men standing in a formation. Clad in weaponry and protective chest plates, they couldna have looked anymore intimidating.

             
I had barely been given the chance to let my eyes linger any longer, before my father had guided me away from the strong men. I was no’ like them, yet I had wanted to be. Most of all, I wanted to be like my father.

             
He picked my wee self up and kissed the top of my head. To most, a fearful man as large as my father kissing his child would seem pathetic. His clan had ken to the bond of a father and son, and would never question the love my father had for me.

             
Just like that, he handed me to my mother. She had dressed in a green gown despite the late hour.

             
“Take Lachlan, and the both of ye hide in the cellar.” My      father spoke with a stern tone, “I donna want either of ye to be involved in this.”

             
My mother did no’ question him, and she carried me to the cellar to where many of the servants hid as well.

             
She had sat me in her lap and began to sing the lullaby she always did when I couldna sleep. In mere moments, my eyes drifted shut and I had fallen into a slumber.

Sleep did no’ last long for
I had been abruptly awoken by the harsh yells of men and the clanks of metal against metal. My mother squeezed her eyes shut and was rocking me back and forth, her lullaby becoming drowned by the painful cries of the fighting men.

             
The bloodshed must have lasted hours, before a man from our clan opened the cellar doors and announced that it was all over.

             
“We have gained victory.” The man yelled while the servants and my mother began to stand on their feet.

             
“How is my husband?” my mother had rushed, her voice more than worried. She held onto my hand tightly, pulling me behind her as she walked towards the man.

             
He gave her a regretful look, “Lady Bateson,” his eyes straying lower, “I fear that Laird Bateson has been wounded.”

             
“Where is he?” she snapped in response.

             
The man’s gaze met hers once more, “I feel that ‘tis no’ the best time to see him.”

             
She glared harshly at him, “Where is he?” she grounded out once more.

             
Defeated, he whispered, “Follow me. I will take ye to him.”

             
My mother was never one for backing down, and as she dragged me along behind her, she kept her head raised high. She seemed unaffected by the mangled bodies on the ground, but I ken that determination was the only thing keeping her strong.

             
My mother saw my father before I did. I ken because of the way her face fell and her hand tensed around mine. It was only when she knelt down next to him, did I see the gruesome sight.

             
Blood was gushing from his stomach and it was clear to me that he had been stabbed brutally. My father was gasping for breath, as the pain was most likely unbearable.

             
My mother covered her mouth with her hand, and began to sob at his side. He reached a cold hand out to her face and stroked the side of it lovingly, “My heart will only ever beat for ye.” He whispered, making her eyes shut at the dying sound of his voice.

             
Then, his gaze met mine and he choked, “Come here, my boy.”

             
Still so young, I did no’ completely understand what was happening but I felt fear for my father. I knelt down next to him, too, and he placed a heavy hand on my knee.

             
“Take care of yer mother. Yer now in charge, son.” He choked, tears brimming my father’s eyes. I had never seen him cry before, “I am so proud of ye.”

             
Those were his last words to me, as his hand dropped to the ground and his eyes closed for the final time.

             
A few years later, when I had only the age of eight, my mother became bed ridden. Her illness only grew worse, and the servants practically forbid me to see to her. I will never forget the day she passed, for the clouds had been gray and the servants quiet.

             
I swore to myself I would remain strong, but I couldna help the tears from falling that one night.

             
Kirstin was breathless and she was not shameful to let her own tears fall from her eyes. Lachlan had endured what no child should. He watched his kin die right in front of him. Perhaps this was why he was so strong-willed and why others feared his intimidating demeanor.

             
Kirstin thought about him for a long time after reading the entry to his journal, not sparing a thought to the setting sun. She lay down against the tall grass, staring up at the orange and pink sky.

             
Little did she realize, that she had fallen asleep. Only the images of a dark-haired highlander with watchful eyes flooded her dreams.

Chapter Nine

             
Lachlan sat at the head of a long table within the dining quarters of his home. He watched as the burly men around him drunkenly laughed and roared above the talk of others, often times standing up only to fall back into their chairs. Lachlan slammed his chalice down, in annoyance, and abruptly stood from his chair.

             
The men around him noticed his movements and turned their heads to watch him. He easily held up one hand, silencing them. Lachlan’s eyes turned dark as the men now realized that it was time to have a serious talk about politics.

             
“Shaun.” Lachlan called out. A large, muscular man tensed in his chair as his gaze met that of the laird’s. He must have been one of the few sober men who sat in the room, for his great size made it difficult for him to become affected by the alcohol.

Lachlan continued, his tone not faltering, “What news do ye have of the Ruskin Clan?”

Shaun gave a curt nod, comprehending the question, and then answered, “They have slaughtered many of our flocks, threatened our women and children, and made their intentions known by trespassing on our lands.”

Lachlan frowned briefly before a stern look masked his expression. He scanned his eyes around the room and projected his voice for all to hear, “For now on, ye will train from dawn ‘til dusk. Any boy whom has reached the age of a man will join these sessions.”

A much smaller man asked loudly, “Are we preparing for battle against the Ruskin Clan?”

Lachlan smirked, “Aye, we are preparing to smother those bastards. I
willna have them disrupt the peace within my clan any longer. They have taken the lives of two and wrecked havoc across my lands. ‘Tis time we give them a taste of their own poison.”

Every man in the room roared out in agreement, lifting their chalices to the ceiling and patting one another on the back. Something glistened in Lachlan’s eyes as he once again observed the men before him. Only Roderick, who stood to the side, recognized the look in his eyes.

It was that of determination, and he knew the severity of this emotion upon his laird. It meant that Lachlan would strive to seek revenge, and he would take as many lives as he had to in order to accomplish this endeavor. It was a dangerous look, but a look that made Lachlan all the more feared in the lands.

Lachlan did not stay in the room for much longer. He left his men, who were now more boisterous than they had been before, and slipped away into the shadows of the halls.

The laird did not return to his chambers, though, and instead took a sharp turn within the halls. He followed the all too familiar way to Kirstin’s room. It was late, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was asleep. He had an urge to check on her sleeping form every night, but only for the assurance that she was alive and well.

He would often a time kiss her still form and take notice to the way she smiled when he did. The reaction made his heart beat heavy within his chest, and only proved his need to protect her all the more.

Lachlan turned the knob to her door and pushed lightly. He was careful to not wake her as he closed the distance between the door and her bed. Though, it was not until he had come only a mere foot away that he could easily see the bed was absent of her sleeping form. He carefully looked around the room as if confirming his suspicion, and then brusquely turned foot and left.

Worried thoughts raced in his mind. With the Ruskin Clan causing mayhem throughout his lands, he could not help but think the worst for the small blonde.

Lachlan did not bother to alert his men of her disappearance, for they were drunk and would only think lesser of him if they knew of his weakness. Lachlan was stubborn as a mule, but he was also all-knowing in many ways. He knew where to look for Kirstin before he asked for assistance in finding her, and he could only hope that she was there.

He swiftly opened a large door that led to the darkness of the night sky. Only a couple of stars twinkled above, and a full moon hid behind the few clouds that were there.

Lachlan did not halt his movements as he continued rushing to the far side of his manor, and went into the woods. He ignored the crunching of leaves beneath his feet and the many branches that reached out to him.

When he approached the end of the woods that encircled the field, his eyes scanned the area rapidly. His search came to an end when the full moon came out from the clouds and its light briefly fell against the tall grass. Lachlan did not miss the small girl that lay in the center of it all. He instantly became relieved and walked towards her.

By the time he stood over the girl, he saw the opened book that lay next to her. Lachlan refrained from chuckling at first, and instead felt a mix of annoyance and infuriation. How could Kirstin be so irresponsible and fall asleep amidst a darkened field? Surely the girl was much too naïve in her ways.

Kirstin temporarily stirred in her sleep when Lachlan picked the journal up from the ground. He held it loosely under his arm and then, not wanting to wake her, Lachlan carefully slipped his hands beneath Kirstin. He effortlessly picked Kirstin up and held her against him as if she was his most precious possession.

Kirstin unconsciously nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. Her breath against his skin made the hairs on Lachlan’s arms rise, as it was a feeling he much enjoyed.

While Lachlan was carrying her back through the woods towards his manor, she dazedly mumbled his name. Instead of answering her though, he kissed her temple, and she simply dozed off again. Kirstin did not awake again after that.

Lachlan made sure to enter the manor through a side door, because he did not want another man’s gaze on the beauty who lay in his arms. He also did not want for her to awake from their loud drunken voices.

He silently walked back to his own chambers, to where a single candle was lit in the largest of rooms. Lachlan gently laid Kirstin down on his bed. He watched as she curled up against the soft furs that covered the mattress, and then he lay down next to her.

Lachlan easily hid the journal in a drawer next to the bed, and then he did not hesitate to take Kirstin into his arms. He put his chin atop her head and breathed in her sweet scent. Lachlan fell asleep to the sound of her beating heart.



              Kirstin awoke in a daze. She had dreamt that she was being carried in the strong arms of an all too familiar highlander, and that she had awoken in a strange room. When her eyes had fully opened, she then realized that she had not been dreaming, because she
was
in a strange room.