A Promise in Midwinter

A Promise
in Midwinter

By: Alyssa Stark

At the tender age of three, there were only two things
expected of Campbell sons.

One was the ability to wield a dagger.

And the second was to have fostered a deep and complete
hatred of the MacFarlands.

..oo  Chapter One  oo..

“Come closer, Daughter.
 The walls of this canvas tent are thin,” Lady Olivia Campbell whispered
through parched, bloodied lips.  Speech was difficult for her now.  Lady Olivia
swallowed hard and began again, “And if he hears my secret we shall both soon
be dead.” 

Lady Olivia’s
breathing was ragged from the effort of speaking.

Her breath came in
shallow, raspy gulps.  They were the labored last breaths of a dying woman.

“Shh, Mama,” Elizabeth soothed in a hushed voice.  She took her mother’s hand and kissed the pale bony
knuckles before lowering her ear to her mother’s chapped lips.  The disease had
overtaken Lady Campbell with remarkable speed, withering her lithe body into a
weakened shell in only a matter of days.  The tell-tale fever had come first,
sending Elizabeth to her knees to beg the Lord’s mercy for her mother’s life. 

Elizabeth knew
what would happen next.

She was no
innocent. 

She had seen far
too many of her step-father’s soldiers die from the same condition.  

First came the
fever and then the bloody flux.

No one survived
the bloody flux.

“What is it Mama?”
Elizabeth asked as she leaned closer to her mother.

Olivia Campbell
pursed her lips together and closed her eyes briefly.  Her pain was unbearable,
but no pain was worse than admitting the truth to her beloved daughter.  She
had lived her life as a coward, always denying the truth that beat with every
pulse of her heart.

“Your father
lives,” Olivia whispered sternly to her daughter, being ever so careful to safe
guard her words.  “Listen to me carefully, child.  John can know nothing of
this.  If he discovers my secret, your very life will be in danger!” Olivia’s
blue eyes pierced Elizabeth’s, imploring her daughter to understand the full
implication of her words.

Elizabeth shook
her head in blatant denial.

“This is madness,
Mama!” she said in wild disbelief.  “My father died before I was born.  You
always told me that-

“I lied to you,
daughter!” Olivia said, shame weighing on her fragile voice.  “I lied to protect
you.”

“But how could
you-

“Elizabeth, please
listen!  We have but precious little time.  You must listen!” Olivia scolded as
she squeezed her daughter’s hand.  

Elizabeth nodded
once and forced her questions to wait.

 “I’ve sent word
to him, to your father,” Olivia said as her eyes searched Elizabeth’s face for
understanding.  “He thought that you were dead.  He thought that we were both
dead,” Olivia admitted as tears welled in her eyes.

“But why-

“I loved him,
Beth,” Olivia confessed as a tear rolled down her cheek.  “Your father and I
were handfasted.  You were conceived in love and he would have wanted you had
he known of you,” she said, her voice breaking off into a sob as she spoke of
the heartbreak that she had repressed for so long.  “He would have loved you so
much, just as I have done, sweet child,” Olivia said as she raised a shaky hand
to brush her daughter’s cheek.

Elizabeth bit her
lower lip, a habit that betrayed her effort to hide her emotions.

“Your father is a
MacFarland,” Olivia whispered, revealing the dire nature of her deadly secret. 
“John believes that your father raped me and that you were a product of that
coupling, but it was all a lie,” Olivia said as she cried freely now, revealing
her sins to her daughter.  “I was betrothed to John Campbell before I met your
father.  We met by chance in a battle camp just like this one,” she said as her
eyes flitted up to the ceiling of the canvas field tent.  “I loved him from the
first moment that we met.  The brief time that I spent with the McFarlands was
the happiest time of my life.”

The flap of the
tent was suddenly cast open, causing both women to jump visibly.

“I can tell you no
more, Daughter,” Olivia whispered hurriedly.  “Tell no one of what I have said,
but know that I have sent word to him.  He will come for you,” Olivia said with
a forlorn look as she squeezed her daughter’s hand reassuringly.

There were so many
things that Olivia had wanted to say to Elizabeth.  There were so many words
that would go unspoken between them now.  Olivia’s eyes held her daughter’s
gaze, telling her without words the burden that her silence had rift upon her
heart.

“Come,” John
Campbell barked at Elizabeth.  His presence loomed in the entrance to the
canvas tent. 

Elizabeth’s
step-father was a commanding man.  His broad shoulders filled the entrance to
the tent.  He stood with his arms crossed and gave not a hint of care towards
his wife Olivia. John Campbell ruled his clan with an iron fist.  Not even the
impending death of his wife could take his mind away from the aftermath of the
battle.

 Campbell was growing
impatient.   

Elizabeth knew
better than to hesitate. 

She had paid the
lofty price of disobeying John Campbell’s orders on more than one occasion.

Elizabeth stood
and placed a gentle kiss atop her mother’s knuckles.  Olivia squeezed her
daughter’s hand in response, the effort causing her fragile hand to tremble.  Elizabeth bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek.  She shuddered at the sound of the
raspy breathing that emanated from Olivia Campbell’s chest.  She knew that her
mother was not long for this world.

“I love you,
Mama,” she whispered as she brushed the auburn hair back from Olivia’s face. 
Reaching up to wipe the unshed tears from her eyes, Elizabeth brushed off her
skirts and moved towards the canvas door.

“And I you, Daughter,”
Olivia said as she fought to restrain the tears that threatened to spill down
her cheeks.

Elizabeth turned
without looking back and followed John Campbell into the gray twilight.  She
knew that this was the last time she would see her dear mother alive.  She
clenched her teeth and prayed for strength.

Her mother’s
secret was a talisman of hope burning deep in the pit of her belly.

She dare not let
John know of her precious secret or the hope that kindled with it.

..ooOOoo..

“His life is worth
more to me than yours,” John Campbell spoke harshly as he regarded the warrior
that lie tethered to the base of the massive oak tree.  “Do not allow him to
die,” he commanded as he glowered at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked
down at the MacFarland warrior.  A lump settled in her throat as she
contemplated the enormous task that her step-father had charged her with.  The
man was slumped against the base of the tree, crusted with so much blood that
she could not readily identify the nature of his wounds.  His hair was
plastered to his face, partially concealing a myriad of scrapes, bruises and
cuts.  There was a large gash spanning from his muscular neck across his
pectoral muscle which was still seeping a steady stream of blood.  His head was
split open above his temple, the wound crusted with dirt and debris.

John Campbell was
expecting the impossible. 

He was asking for Elizabeth to perform a miracle.

The MacFarland
warrior appeared to barely cling to life and Elizabeth was charged with the
daunting task of bringing him back from the abyss of death.

“He’s their Laird’s
son.  Lachlan MacFarland,” Campbell said, his gruff voice snapping Elizabeth back to reality.  “When your mother is gone, I’ll expect that you earn your keep,”
he said coldly as he motioned towards the warrior and arched a bushy eyebrow at
Elizabeth.  “Let him die and you will be punished.”

Elizabeth nodded vacantly
and knelt in front of the warrior.  Her lips set into a hard line of
determination as she contemplated where to begin. 

The MacFarland was
very close to death.  Elizabeth feared that her rudimentary healing techniques
would do little to stave off the inevitability of his impending death. 
Tendrils of fear spread like fire through her veins. 

Elizabeth had been
punished by her step-father before.  She closed her eyes momentarily and pushed
the sickening memories from her mind.

 Her mother had
taught her well how to avoid John Campbell’s spiteful wrath.

Do as he bids
you.

Keep your head
down and do as he bids.

Swallowing hard, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and prepared for battle.  She would not let this man die. 
She could not let this man die, for her future and his were now intertwined in
a most precarious manner.

..oo  Chapter Two  oo..

Death yielded a
pleasant surprise for Lachlan MacFarland.  He had expected the fiery throes of
Hell but never in his wildest dreams had he expected to end up in Heaven.

And Heaven was
even better than he had hoped that it would be.

Lachlan’s gray
eyes fluttered open and focused upon the pert breasts that bobbed alluringly
before his face.  Music filled his ears, sweet and melodic.  The young woman
was humming as she attended to him.  Lachlan’s eyes strained to focus.  He
watched her breasts swelling above the neckline of her gown, rising and falling
above the homespun fabric with each breath that she took.

Lachlan felt warm
all over, too warm.  His eyes drifted up to her face. 

How in the Hell
had he made it to Heaven?

She had alabaster
skin and long, flowing auburn hair.  Her eyes were the same shade of green that
colored the fields in spring-time.  That distinct shade of new life coupled
with the promise of sunshine. 

She was an
angel for sure
.

Unable to resist
further temptation, Lachlan reached up and cupped her full breast through the
fabric of her gown.  His thumb brushed across the bead of her nipple, eliciting
a surprised gasp from the young woman.

Elizabeth Campbell
saw red when the MacFarland’s hand touched her.  Suffering the indignity of
nursing the enemy warrior back from the brink of death had been torture enough,
but his unexpected trespass pushed her over the edge.

Enough was enough.

“How dare you
touch me!” she exclaimed as she swatted his hand away.

Lachlan’s eyebrow
arched in surprise and he jerked his arm up experimentally, having just
discovered that his wrist was tethered to the base of a large oak tree.  His
mind was spinning, fighting the magnetic pull of unconsciousness, trying to
grasp where he was and what was happening.

He reached out
towards his angel, fumbling at her with muscles that were clumsy and refused to
cooperate.

“Try that again
and I’ll kick you in the stones you villain!” Elizabeth warned as she dodged
the warrior’s grasp.

Lachlan fought the
urge to smile.

 He had not
expected God to have such a sense of humor.  Never would he have imagined that
the angels in Heaven would curse like sailors. 

He might learn to
like this place after all.

Elizabeth
straightened her spine and moved just beyond the massive warrior’s reach in
case he had a second fit of impulsive behavior.  His steely gray eyes struggled
to focus on her face and she watched him now intently.  Her hand went
protectively to the neckline of her gown, recoiling from his unexpected, overly
warm touch.  She studied his face, admitting to herself that if Lachlan
MacFarland had not been born a MacFarland she might have found him quite
attractive. 

His jaw line was
angular and dusted with several days’ growth of stubble, lending him a rugged
appeal.  His gray eyes were expressive despite his current state of delusion
and set on either side of a straight nose.  Beneath the layer of battle grime,
his bare chest was sinewy and rippled with muscle from hours spent practicing
the art of sword fighting.

Lachlan MacFarland
was indeed a handsome man.

His gray eyes rolled
back and fluttered closed as he succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness.  His
head lolled forward and his chin came to rest on his chest.  Beneath his mop of
unbound hair, Elizabeth noticed that the corner of his full mouth twisted up
into the hint of a smile, lending him a boyish quality despite the fact that he
was a ferocious warrior.

Elizabeth sighed
in relief and allowed her spine to relax.  Her hand fell from its protective
stance above her breasts and came to rest on the pillows of her skirts. Her
heart beat was erratic and put up a moments resistance as it slowed to a more
normal rhythm.  The tell-tale thudding in Elizabeth’s ear was the only
remainder of what had just happened.

Never had a man
touched her so intimately.

Never had any man
dared to touch her under John Campbell’s careful watch.

Lachlan
MacFarland, Clan Campbell’s most fearsome enemy and recently acquired prisoner
of war had just touched her in a most inappropriate manner.  Despite the
initial shock of the encounter, Elizabeth realized that she was not as off put
by his advances as she should be.

Elizabeth had a
sudden, startling realization which cast a new light upon her patient. The MacFarland
might be her one and only chance at salvation.  Her mother had divulged that
her true father was a MacFarland.  Elizabeth would do anything to be free of
John Campbell, even if it meant fleeing into the care of the barbaric
MacFarland clan.

Her mother had
revealed that she had loved a MacFarland once, long ago.

Lady Olivia
Campbell’s revelation garnered hope in Elizabeth’s heart.

Perhaps not all
MacFarlands were savage monsters.  If her mother had loved one of them, all of
the tales of MacFarland savagery could not be true.

Elizabeth’s green
eyes studied the wounded warrior.

Lachlan MacFarland
could be her only chance to escape.