Resisting the Highlander: A Scottish Romance (14 page)

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W
hen her father arrived on the castle grounds, Bridget and Robert were by the stables watching Aidan put some of the animals through their paces. Bridget was perched on the top rail of the white fence in a spot that had become one of her favorite places. She was becoming more fond of the horses by the day and never tired of watching them, or Aidan.

Robert interrupted her thoughts. “Bridget, lass, your father is here. Better get down and greet him.”

She looked around in alarm and quickly got down to stand close to Robert as a kindly man who seemed a stranger despite Robert’s words approached.

“Ah, Bridget, my girl,” said her father, “and how are you this fine day?”

“I’m fine, sir, but I just don’t remember too well,” she said apologetically, looking down at her feet.

He came closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m your father, Bridget. Don’t you remember?”

She tried to remember him. “Aye, I know you are my father, but there’s something in my head that makes me forget things. I don’t know why.”

Wearily, she laid her head against his chest, feeling somewhat safe even though she couldn’t bring up a single memory of the man in front of her. His arms enfolded her. She didn’t see, but felt, tears running down his cheeks.

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A
idan turned away to hide his own heartbreak. He knew all too well what James was feeling learning that Bridget didn’t remember him. Later, he spoke to James about her.

“I love your daughter, Mr. Campbell, and would like your permission to court her. I cannot take unfair advantage of her at this time since she has always rebuffed my advances, but when she recovers her memory, I would like to marry her.”

James looked at him with a smile, and said, “I have three fine daughters, Aidan, but have always wanted a son. Now, God willing, you can be the son I never had.”

Aidan swallowed his emotions. “Thank you, Mr. Campbell, and don’t worry about Bridget.  We’ll take good care of her. I’ve noticed little things seem to be coming back to her even now. I–I feel partly to blame for what happened to her. If I hadn’t–”

James stopped him. “No, no lad. Don’t feel that way. This was something that none of us dreamed would happen, and you mustn’t blame yourself. Just love her now and take care of her for me, and I’ll not worry about her.”

The two men shook hands. Aidan said, “You can count on that, sir.”

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T
he hometown fishing season was in full swing. The town was alive with activity. Many outsiders had come for the summer when extra jobs were always available. This was the harvest time for the whole community. Fishermen, merchants, and hired hands prospered during summertime. Men and women from the Highlands came to share in the short lived abundance. Laborers from neighboring farms, in need of an extra shilling or two, could always find a part-time job.

The town prospered. Life was good. People were happy. James tried to be happy too. He threw all his energy into work to ease the heartache he suffered on account of his daughter’s condition. His fishing boat was one of the more prosperous, and after all the expenses were paid off, he had a handsome stipend to hand over to his wife. But in spite of their good fortune, their hearts remained sad.

Bridget’s birthday came and went with little fanfare. Since her accident, she seemed quite changed, quieter and less social. It was unanimous that they skip celebrations that year. All too quickly the days sped by and the season was at an end. In a few short weeks, the fleet would be leaving home again. They would travel to Gt. Yarmouth in the south of England for the last herring fishing of the year.

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L
ife went on at the castle in the usual way, Bridget helping Besse with the housework when necessary and doing a little gardening with Robert in his rose garden. It was his pet project, but Bridget seemed to enjoy it as well. Despite her consistency in these activities, Bridget wasn’t the same at all. Besse, Robert, and Aidan carried a sadness that showed on their faces. Bridget seemed preoccupied and quiet, and spoke but little. Sometimes, she would play the pianoforte for short periods, but there was a restlessness about her, as if she were searching for something that couldn’t be found. She was much friendlier towards Aidan and spent hours watching him work with the animals, which gave him a small comfort, but he would have traded her kind words if it meant having the old Bridget back.

Whenever she was missed around the house, they invariably found her perched on the top rail of the fence caressing the big stallion and talking to him more than she spoke to any of them. Aidan took some comfort knowing that Sarge had become her constant companion.

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O
ne day, she disappeared from the house and Robert presumed her to be down by the stables. He entered Besse’s domain, intending to leave the house by the kitchen door to go look for her. Upon entering, he found Besse sitting by the table crying softly.

Surprised, he asked her, “Now what’s the matter with you, lass?”

She hastily wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Oh, Mr. MacDonald, I’m so ashamed of myself. When I see poor Bridget like she is, it fair breaks my heart.”

“What do mean, Besse? Why are you ashamed of yourself?”

“Oh, sir, it’s about those noises she spoke to you of at breakfast some time back. I was the one responsible for them. I wanted to scare her away.”

Staring out of the window and rubbing the back of his neck, Robert said quietly, “I think we all knew it was you.”

Her face reddened and a fresh flood of tears ran down her cheeks. “You knew?” she stammered between sobs, “Then why didn’t you–”

He interrupted her, “Why didn’t I give you the sack? Because Bridget wouldn’t let me. She overheard you talking to Mary and Elizabeth the day of the Burns party. I think she understand how you might feel.”

Her face reddened until Robert thought it would burst. Getting to her feet unsteadily, she stammered, “I’m sure you couldn’t want me here now, sir. I’ll get ready and leave as soon as I can.”

“No, Besse, you are not leaving. I need you now more than ever, and Bridget needs you too.  She didn’t want you to lose your job on account of her, and now that she has become dependent on you for so many things, I would never be able to explain to her why you have gone. If you want to make up for the unpleasantness you caused her before, you can stay now and do whatever you can for her. I forgave you long ago, and Bridget never did hold anything against you.”

Besse couldn’t speak. Tears streamed from her eyes. After a few moments, she sobbed, “Oh thank you, Mr. MacDonald, for wanting me to stay. I’ll do anything in my power to help the lassie.  Sometimes without thinking we are easily led on by what somebody else says, but never again, sir. You have my word on that.”

Robert assumed she meant what the women had said the day Bridget moved in. He felt a flash of anger at everything Bridget had relayed to him about that conversation. Calming himself, he said, “All right, Besse, and we’ll say no more about it.”

She vigorously blew her nose and wiped her eyes with her apron. He turned and left the house with a tight-lipped smile on his face.

T
he days became shorter and soon the autumn darkness would be upon them in the early evenings. The fleet was gone and outsiders had returned to their homes, leaving the town practically deserted.

Bridget’s condition remained about the same, although some little things came back to her. There was a lassitude about her that was disconcerting to both Robert and Aidan.

One day, Aidan decided to take her up on the battlements of the castle to see if the view, which was almost the same as from the lighthouse, would be at all familiar to her. He grasped at any little thing that might give them some hope.

She showed little interest at first, but as she leaned against the stone parapet that ran the length of the battlements, something stirred in her mind as her eyes scanned the surrounding view. She observed the villages to the north and Rattray Head lighthouse to the southwest across the bay. She took in the sight of the stretch of beautiful white sand and remembered playing there often as a child.  With her hand pressed to her forehead, she squinted in puzzlement, and asked, “Have I been up here before, Aidan? I know I have seen this view but from where I cannot remember.” She looked at him questioningly.

“No, Bridget, you have never been up here,” he answered, “but you saw a similar view from the lighthouse tower, remember?”

“No, Aidan it couldn’t have been from there. My parents would never allow us to go. They’ve always said it was too dangerous.”

“You were up there with me, lassie, and I held your arm as we came downstairs.”

She frowned, wrinkling her forehead.“It does sound familiar but wasn’t there someone else there also?”

“Aye, lassie,” he answered sadly, “there was someone else there.” 

She looked so lost at that moment he couldn’t resist the temptation to take her in his arms and hold her as if he’d never let her go. She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise, but there was no resistance when he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. All the love in his heart poured into the kiss.

She smiled at him.“Why did you do that, Aidan?”

“Because I love you, lassie, and want you to be my girl. Will you?”

As if she didn’t understand, she just smiled and turned away.

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few days later, the early evening brought dark skies with ominous clouds that heralded an approaching storm. Bridget appeared restless and unable to settle herself at any one thing.

Sitting down at the piano, she pounded out Rachmaninoff’s “Prelude,” the strident chords matching her glum mood perfectly. Robert, never too far away from her, watched with deep concern.  Suddenly jumping up from the piano stool, she pressed both hands against her temples and said, “Oh, Grandfather, I have such a bad headache. Do you think there might be a storm brewing?”

“Aye, lassie, there’s something in the air tonight, and if a storm does come, it will be a bad one.”

He put his arm about her shoulders. “Why don’t you go lie down for a little while? If you can get some sleep, it will do you a world of good.”

“All right, Robert, I’ll try it. I don’t seem to be much good for anything else at the moment.”

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he went upstairs to her room. A fire was burning in the small grate, giving the room a cozy atmosphere. Upon removing her dress and shoes, she lay down on top of the bed, pulling a blanket robe over her to ward off a slight chill in the air.

She quickly drifted off to sleep but was just as quickly roused when the storm broke.  Listening to the fury of the elements all around her, she snuggled deeper into the covers as lightning, followed by bursts of thunder, flashed across the room. Hearing the pelting rain on the windows, she breathed a prayer of thankfulness for the safety and comfort of her home.

Then, suddenly in the midst of the tumult, she heard another sound: the crack of rockets. She bolted upright, knowing the sound could mean only one thing: a ship was in distress or already grounded on the rocks offshore.

“God, help those poor men out there,” she exclaimed. Then something flashed across her mind and her thoughts flew to Aidan.

She heard or rather felt something telling her he was in great danger. She wasn’t sure what it was, but the certainty that he was at risk was so strong. The sound of bursting rockets came again. She sprang from the bed and hurriedly donned her dress and shoes. She raced downstairs with one thought in mind, to reach Aidan wherever he was.

“I’ve got to tell him now.” The words slipped out of her mouth. “He’s got to know how I feel about him.”

Besse was at one of the windows peering out into the gloom. “Besse, Besse, where are the men? I’ve got to talk to Aidan.”

“Now, now, lassie, calm yourself. Aidan and Robert have both gone to the shore to see if they can be of any help. There is a cargo boat ashore on the rocks. The lifeboat has gone out to try and get the crew off her.”

“I know, Besse, I know, but there’s something I have to tell Aidan before anything happens to him. I feel he is in grave danger, and I must see him. Oh, Besse if he should never come back!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she headed for the east door.

“No no,” remonstrated Besse, “you can’t go out in this foul weather and would only be in the way down there. They are doing men’s work.”

She caught hold of Bridget’s arm as she spoke, but there was no holding her. Bridget charged toward the door. Besse followed her, saying, “All right, Bridget, but here put on this oilskin coat and hat.” She jammed the sou’wester down on top of Bridget’s head before she dashed out the door as if the devil himself was after her.

Bridget was met by a violent gust of wind that almost took her breath away, but it was not enough to make her change her mind. No matter what, she was determined to find Aidan.

Buffeted unmercifully by the storm, she slowly reached the white fence that ran nearly all the way to the shore. She held onto it as she made her way forward against the wind, her progress going a little faster thanks to the support of the fence. When she heard the shouting of many voices and saw lanterns swinging in the dark, Bridget knew she was near her destination.

She picked up her pace and headed towards a group of men near the rock on the cove where she and Robert had walked so often. As she came closer, she realized her grandfather was one of the men in the group. She staggered over to him and caught hold of his arm. He turned around, disbelief in his eyes when he saw who it was.

“Bridget! What in heaven’s name are you doing down here? You shouldn’t be out of the house in a storm like this.”

“Robert, Robert,” she cried, “where is Aidan? I had a premonition he is in some kind of danger.  I must talk to him.”

Seeing how distraught she was, Robert put one arm across her shoulders and led her a little closer to the rock where a makeshift shelter had been erected. Bridget observed two men holding the ends of a cover over someone lying prone on the sand.