Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum (the rosie project TXT) 📗

“As of when I left three weeks ago. Your Aunt Merida and sister are taking good care of Lady Sinclair.”

Cain was going to be a father, like Calder was now, except Cain would not fall on the floor if he were forced to witness the birthing. “I will be an uncle,” Joshua said and chuckled, thinking of all the mischief he could help his nephew or niece get into. Would Ella let him hold the bairn or snatch it away like Brenna? Perhaps he should have his own son or daughter, a bairn that no one could whisk away. The thought tightened his stomach, and he glanced back at the door that hid Kára.

“Three weeks,” Joshua said and looked back to the clergyman who had done so much to help his clan back home. “Did ye have a hard time finding a way across the firth?”

“Nay,” John said. “’Twas a quick trip, but I stayed in southern Orkney for a fortnight, trying to help the poor people there.” The man’s gaze met Joshua’s with questions in it. “You were in South Ronaldsay. They said the Horseman of War was there, that he fought with them.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Joshua looked past him. “Aye,” he said, his brows bending downward. “I tried to help them, but ’twas wrong to encourage the war when the price of winning would be too high.”

“They speak of you giving them hope,” Pastor John said, bringing Joshua’s gaze back to his. “They are rebuilding, and the new leaders are in discussions for a lasting truce after seeing what such slaughter did to hurt them.”

“Perhaps the old leaders should have been killed, instead of over half their people with them,” Joshua said, his voice low, Adam’s face surfacing in his mind like a spirit from the grave.

“And who are the leaders in the war up here?” Pastor John asked.

“Robert Stuart, Earl of Orkney.” He nodded toward the north where the palace lay. “And currently, Chief Kára Flett.” He indicated the door.

“Stuart? Related to King James?”

“Aye, his bastard uncle. Robert’s sons are also a problem, forcing the people here to work for them without pay or choice, not letting them hunt to supply food for their families, stealing their horses and anything of worth. The list of abuses is long.”

“And you wish to help these people against him?” Pastor John took in a full breath, letting it out slowly as if Joshua had already answered. “King James will not like his representatives here slaughtered by a powerful Sinclair, especially people of his blood.”

Joshua rubbed the back of his neck. “It would be better if I could convince Kára and her clan to move to Caithness on the mainland.”

The cleric nodded his head quickly. “Aye. Keep the Sinclairs free of this squabble and still not abandon these poor souls.”

Joshua exhaled long. “Aye,” he said, glancing toward the hidden village of Hillside. If only he could reason with the poor souls.

…

“Calder wants to name our babe after Joshua,” Brenna said, holding her son against her breast where he nursed. “He says your Highlander saved us both by getting Hilda. I mean, you helped in that as well.” She shrugged the opposite shoulder slightly. “And then the whole Joshua holding me up during the birth. Lord help me. I do not think I can look at him again without flushing red.”

“Hilda kept you covered below.”

“To think his brother is named Death,” Brenna said, whispering the last word as if it might summon the affliction.

Kára lay on the bed next to her friend, pillows holding them both up. “Not a name in any language for a child.”

Brenna looked down on the tiny head against her. “But Joshua is a nice name. I like the sound of it.” She looked up at Kára. “He is still here?”

It had been four days since the birth. Brenna had come through the difficult battle for life as well as she could. She had some stitches, but they were healing, and so far, Hilda’s brews had kept her free of fever. Once her milk came in, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Kára had been teaching her ways to hold her babe while feeding him, the memories coming back of when Geir was born.

Kára nodded but felt her frown grow. “He is training our warriors in defense so when Robert finds us, we can better fend him off.”

“Is that not what you wanted?” Brenna asked.

Kára exhaled. She hadn’t spent any time alone with Joshua since they’d spoken outside the birthing room. Each day she had woken, expecting to hear he had left. I will stay until Samhain. The holiday to honor the dead and bless the harvest in preparation for the dark winter ahead started at sundown the next day.

“He is still here,” Kára said, “but he has not agreed to lead us against Robert and his sons, and The Brute.” John Dishington had not died and was now angrier than ever, giving Joshua and Kára a warning through Asmund at the tavern. Henry Stuart and Dishington had ridden into the deserted town on the bay and had thrown Asmund to the ground when he feigned ignorance of their location. Asmund would rather die than tell Stuarts about Hillside.

A small group of Robert’s men had come up to the three cottages yesterday, but Kára’s people had a routine they would play out when strangers came near. Three small families would show themselves above. The rest of the Hillside families would stand on guard quietly in the underground dwellings with shocks of barley laid against the doors to hide them. They had hidden this way for as long as Kára could remember, using the dwellings of the ancient Orkney inhabitants. Children huddled together. Mothers desperately keeping their babes hushed. Fathers and sons holding what weapons they had.

When Joshua had emerged after Robert’s men rode away, he stood watching them all come out looking like frightened rabbits, silent