Highland Bloodline Read online

  "So, Robbie, would you like a taste of Millie's apple cobbler? She's the main cook around here, and I assure you it's delicious."

  "Uh, yes mum. I've not eaten all day, so that would be appreciated."

  As for Caitlin, she had an ear that didn't miss the very proper pronunciation of his words. Apparently the lad had been reared with proper British English, and most probably proper manners as well. She observed that he waited for Alex to sit before he did, and he carefully lay his tam on the chair next to him.

  She couldn't tell who was the most anxious, Alex or Robbie, and her heart was breaking for these two, a father and a son who had never met. She debated whether to retreat from the room and leave them alone to figure out how to communicate, or whether she should help them for a few minutes then take her leave. The healer in her desperately wished to bring some relief to the situation.

  "Here, try this cocoa and have some cobbler. Your stomach will thank you, I'm sure. Alex, here's another cup of cider for you. I'll leave you two to yourselves now. You need to get acquainted, I believe." She left, holding her hands over her abdomen as she walked back toward the great room.

  ~ ~ ~

  Da finished his story time with the bairns and stood at the window of the upstairs hallway, looking out over the moor. Thinking. Remembering. Alice, Mam, had a saying she used at times such as these: "Life is meant to be embraced, Daniel. If we run away from everything unpleasant or uncomfortable that is thrown at us, we'll cease to grow as people and never gain any new understanding. Rejoice in all experiences that ye encounter, even if ye don't completely understand them, and let them become part of yer soul."

  Mo chridhe, this may be a great opportunity to embrace that which we don't quite understand.

  He knew he must go down and lend Alex a hand, but thought he'd give him a few minutes alone with the lad then step in, as Alice would have done. Yes, she would have taken it all in stride. Eventually, he made his way slowly back down the stairs.

  Jack, the largest of the MacKinnon brothers, and also the most hotheaded one who despised changes, accosted Da the minute he got to the bottom of the stairs.

  "Da? Do ye think he's Alex's son? I mean, he looks just like him! What are we supposed to do? Alex has a son? Who would have ever thought that? And what are we to do with him? That's just more changes, Da, more changes."

  "Oh, well, I feel sure we'll find room for him, don't ye? He's obviously a MacKinnon, so I don't believe we'll be throwing him out the door."

  "No, but what will Caitlin think? She's about to have a bairn any day now and here, this evening, she learns Alex already has one."

  "And she thinks it a very fine thing, too, Jack," a voice spoke behind him.

  Caitlin joined them at the bottom of the stairs.

  "The lad apparently is in need or he wouldn't be here. So, we all should make him welcome and try to see what we can do for him. He's fearful and anxious, certainly. I can see that on his face." The healer not only saw the pain in the boy's face, but she felt it at an even deeper level. Uncle Wabi had told her she would learn to shield herself from sensing others' pain, eventually, but as yet she still hadn't mastered that skill.

  She was getting close to the end of her pregnancy and her emotions were riding a wave that crested high one day then crashed the next. The bairn wasn't due for several more weeks, and she knew these emotions were common in the last days, but she wished the child would get here, and soon.

  "I think the best thing we can do this evening will be to find the lad a place to sleep and let him know we're glad he's with us."

  Ian, the youngest of the brothers, stood again, which still took a bit of doing with his prosthetic foot. But he had no complaints, and didn't let his prosthesis stop him from doing most anything he wanted. Caitlin had been responsible for keeping him alive following a wound at the Battle of Culloden in which he lost his foot. The prosthesis was a gift from Da, Uncle Wabi and Uncle Andrew. The three had worked together to create it and now Ian was almost good as new.

  "Let him come up to the attic with me. There's a small cot he can sleep on and I'll find some blankets for him. He'll like being up there. It's the best place in the lodge, trust me."

  Ian would be returning to the Isle of Skye in a few days anyway, and his room would be vacant. The new lad could have full use of the room then. Being part of a large family had its good points, but Ian always liked that he could climb up to the highest part of the lodge and have his own space where he could light a candle, read to his heart's content, and watch out the window for the old stag that wandered the moor at night. He knew Robbie would like that too.

  Millie and Jack made their way to the east wing where Millie's little daughter, Midge, was already asleep and they, too, retired for the evening. Jack and Millie had wed the same day Alex and Caitlin had. Millie, the former Lady Sinclair, had gone from being a lady in a castle in England, and wife to a despicable lord, to being wife to Jack, a Highlander whom she thought hung the moon. He had his strong points, and his weak ones as well. Most of all he disliked changes, but this past year had proved to him he didn't need to fear them. Sometimes they actually made things better.

  "But, Millie. Another child, a lad, in the lodge? How many can we take in?"

  "As Da said, we won't be throwing him out. I know how the lad feels, Jack. I, too, had no place to go and now I'm here with this family. It'll be alright."

  With Caitlin and Millie having come into the family, the lives of everyone in the lodge had changed. Caitlin and Millie had become friends first, then Caitlin saved Ian's life after Culloden and the MacKinnons had come to her rescue in her time of need. Alex had been captivated by her from day one and had let nothing keep him from marrying her, not even family concerns about her.

  The fact Caitlin possessed special powers had been a problem for Jack originally, but she had saved him, Alex, and Millie, as well as herself, on two occasions. That had gone a long way toward Jack accepting her and her abilities.

  Caitlin slowly climbed the stairs, headed to the rooms she and Alex claimed in the west wing of the lodge. She particularly liked that wing as she had two large windows from which she could view the moor, and if she looked closely she could see the circle of stones at the top. She intuitively knew the circle was a special place and she longed to walk among the spirits that she was sure dwelled there.

  This evening she found herself wondering what might happen next. Her handsome Highlander was her life, and his touch still sent chills along her spine. Watching him as he strode across the floor, his kilted body tall and muscular, was as appealing as ever, and the sound of his deep, resonating voice was soothing to her.

  Her life was fulfilling and she never regretted leaving the Isle of Skye and Uncle Wabi, although she missed him greatly. He visited often and she could always "call" him if she really needed him. But this night she wished she could talk to another woman, perhaps Mam. That woman had raised this house full of lads who were a credit to her and Da. And now, as Caitlin was about to deliver the next bairn in this clan, a new MacKinnon lad had shown up.

  She undressed and began to brush her hair. Tying a ribbon around the mass of curls, she pulled on a high-necked nightgown and crawled into bed. She was tired beyond belief, but her mind wouldn't stop its churning.

  Holy Rusephus! Alex has a son. But why did he not know about him? Why would any woman keep such a secret from a father? This will be a tale worth hearing. I sounded so sure of myself downstairs, but I don't know how to handle this situation any better than Alex. A son? Just one more calamity.

  Alex would be up eventually, but she knew he would remain quiet about his feelings regarding Robbie until he'd sorted them out in his own mind. Only then would he discuss them with her.

  She felt like an elephant as she tried to get comfortable in bed, and fell asleep wishing the bairn would be born this very minute—several more weeks was unthinkable.

  ~ ~ ~

  "So then, Robbie. I think we might better try to
get acquainted, ye ken?" Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not sure how to get this conversation going.

  "Yes ... sir. I suppose that would be the logical thing to do."

  Alex noted the lad all but refused to make eye contact, and an element of anger and resentment inside the boy was palpable.

  "Well now, it's fairly obvious the two of us are a lot alike, physically, that is. So we can agree ye must be my son. Is that how ye see it?"

  The lad looked to the floor and, in a most sullen voice, replied. "I guess so. Mother told me I was to find you when she was no longer here with me. That's why I came here this evening. She died a fortnight ago and I've been trying to determine what would be the best course of action for me to take."

  Alex could feel anger and resentment coming off the lad in waves. Unconsciously crossing his arms across his chest in a defensive manner, he took a deep breath and leaned back, fearing what the next words from the lad might be. The boy sounded like a much older person, and other than observing that the lad was nervous, what with him picking his tam up again and constantly fiddling with it, Alex would have assumed he was an adult.

  Suddenly realizing his posture might be sending out a message that wasn't exactly welcoming, Alex released his arms and leaned forward to rest them on the table and gave the lad his undivided attention. Seeing his own dark eyes staring back at him gave him pause, but he began.

  "Oh, lad, whatever caused her to die? She was such a lovely young woman when I knew her. It grieves me to hear she has passed away."

  Still addressing the floor, Robbie began his tale. "She'd been ill for quite some time ... sir. When she wasn't teaching, she volunteered at the Old Tolbooth, the prison in Edinburgh, where she contracted typhus a while back. The doctors at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh treated her, but finally there was nothing else to be done so she asked to leave hospital and come home for her final days. Mattie, our housekeeper, arranged to bring her back home and nursed her through the last weeks. She died on April 14th, which is ironic, as that happens to be my birthday.

  "Lad, that's a heartache for ye, to be sure."

  "Yes ... sir, but actually, it's a meaningful day already so it seems appropriate somehow."

  Alex sipped at his cider, trying to decide how to further the conversation along. But then, what did he want to know? Surely he would offer to help the lad, but how were they to get any kind of relationship going?

  "To be frank with ye, lad, I don't know any other way of figuring things out except to ask ye questions, ye ken?"

  "Alright. I guess that's OK. I'll answer them if I can. But you must know, I don't especially want to be here even though Mother said I should find you. I'm a British citizen, not a Scot."

  "Aye. Aye. I see. Then, do ye understand I never knew I had a son?"

  "Yes ... sir. And you should know I never knew my father was alive until a couple of months ago. Mother had a birth certificate that has my name as Robert Alexander Edwards ... and another one that says Robert Alexander MacKinnon. She told me my father had been a soldier in service of the Crown and that he was brave and died in a battle with a battalion of French soldiers. There was never a lot of discussion about him, other than she always insisted he was a most intelligent man, very handsome, and a fine soldier. She even showed me a few charcoal drawings she said were of him. Of course, I now realize she invented this man in order for me to believe I had been a wanted child, and that is exactly what she accomplished. I did always feel wanted and cared for. Only now, since she's passed away, I'm aware of new feelings, of being without roots, drifting, not sure what to do next."

  "Aye. Of course, lad. Ye naturally would feel that. Then, ye can be sure this family, the MacKinnon family—yer family, I suppose—will welcome ye. And I should also tell ye we're probably quite different from folk down in the Lowlands or Edinburgh and London. Speaking of that, where did ye come from?"

  "I've lived in London and Edinburgh. In my early life we lived in London for some years then, for some reason, Mother insisted we move to Edinburgh. She'd been a tutor at university there early on, then went back to London and was headmistress at Her Majesty's Preparatory Academy, a school for young ladies. She taught there for some time, but about five years ago she wanted to return to Edinburgh and the university. She had fond memories of her time there and missed the stimulation of the young students. So, we moved there and that's where I still live."

  "So yer early years were pretty much spent in London then. I suppose that's why ye sound more English than Scot. But of course ye would. Fiona was English through and through."

  "Yes ... sir."

  Alex didn't miss the hesitancy of the lad to call him sir.

  "But she always spoke highly of the Scots and their devotion to family and their strong work ethic. She was impressed with those characteristics. But not everyone I know feels that way about Scots."

  "Then I thank her for that. She was a fine lady herself, and I never held it against her that she were English."

  He smiled at the lad and the smile was returned briefly. But there was certainly a question written on the lad's face.

  Ah, he seemed to take no offense and took that remark as it was intended. So, maybe we can get through this.

  Robbie took a deep breath, then made his pronouncement. "I've always thought I was thoroughly British. But now, I guess I have to realize and admit I'm half Scot."

  Alex thought for a moment before addressing this proclamation from the lad. The flat, non-emotional way in which he made the statement told Alex the lad would rather be a toad than a Scot.

  Looks like I have a new problem to deal with. He was proud to be British, of course. Now he knows Scots blood flows in his veins as well, Highland blood at that.

  "Well, then I suppose yer right. In my opinion a man, or lad, should be proud of his heritage, his country, and most of all his family. But I can understand ye might have some trouble agreeing with me on this. Ye've thought ye were British for some years now, and actually ye are half British, as it were. But there's goodness to be found in both peoples, I suppose, and areas where there will always be disagreements. Mam would have said 'that's life.'"

  "Who's Mam?"

  "Mam was my mother, yer grandmother. She's gone on now, but she always had sayings that seemed to fit most occasions.”

  And I know she could help me now if she were here.

  "Robbie, we have a lot of catching up to do. It's late now so I think we'll call it a night and tomorrow we'll make more headway. Tonight ye need to rest and, again, ye are welcome here in our home. I'm not real sure how a father should act, but I'll do my best. I hope ye can find a way to understand that if I had known about ye, I'd have come looking for ye. This family cares for its own. Ye are my son. That makes ye important to all of us."

  "Yes ... sir. Mother and I discussed you at length before she passed on. She held you in the highest regard and indicated I was to do the same ... even if you are a Scot."

  "I'm glad to hear that, lad. Then let's see where we're to bed ye down. Come, I'll see what Caitlin has in mind."

  As they stood, Da entered and stood for a moment, staring at his son and grandson. Alex was certainly a handsome man, and wore his kilt with pride. The lad was clad in long, dark trousers and a dark matching coat. Obviously their clothing was different, but if they were any more alike Da would eat his tam. The lad was several inches shorter than Alex and certainly not as filled out, but then he still had a few growing years ahead of him.

  Stroking his bearded face, Da ran his finger down through the cleft in his chin.

  Huh. Well now, guess that's at least one trait the three of us have in common. Wonder what others we may have.

  He walked over and put his hand out and the boy took it for a short moment.

  "Lad, I'm yer grandfather, Daniel. Ye found yer way here, and now that ye have, we're glad to make yer acquaintance. We MacKinnons take care of each other, and ye'll be treated like one of us, as ye certainly are from what I see."


  "Thank you ... sir." The boy hadn't known what to expect, but this was not an anticipated response.

  They don't even know me, but are going out of their way to make me feel welcome. But they're Scots, known to be scoundrels and uneducated heathens. I know I can't trust them.

  "If it suits ye, Ian would like ye to share his space. It's up in the farthest part of the lodge, the attic actually. He's about yer age, maybe a tad older, I think. So, take the stairs all the way to the top and he'll find ye a bed. We'll talk tomorrow. Night to ye now."

  Robbie nodded quickly to Da. "Yes ... sir. That sounds fine to me."

  The young lad looked about, not sure where he was to go. He made a quick trip back to the porch and returned carrying a soft, leather valise in which he had brought a few items of clothing, some of his mother's personal documents, and his ever-present writing pad. This pad was much more important to him than any of the other articles, however.

  Da made his way to his room at the end of the hall, a book tucked under his arm as always, and Alex waited at the foot of the stairs for the lad.

  "Up there, lad—Robbie. All the way to the top. Ian's got a place for ye to rest yer head. He'll be going to the Isle of Skye in a couple of days and then ye'll have the place to yerself. So if you can manage to share a room a couple of nights, it will be helpful."

  "Of course ... sir."

  Alex hardly knew how to react to such a formal, polished young man. On the one hand, the lad obviously disliked learning he was half Scot and had made that very clear. But on the other, he had the manners of a young gentleman. Alex tried to remember himself at that awkward age. He was quite sure he was not polished, but Mam would have insisted on good manners. And if he was rebellious, then Da would have given him some extra chores to work off his angry feelings. No doubt, though, this lad was as much a MacKinnon as any of them.