Her Rebellious Heart: A Scottish Historical Romance (11 page)

             
“Thank you, Mr. MacDonald, and I especially thank you for having me here.”

             
“It was your cousin's idea, my dear, she thinks an awful lot of you.”

             
“Yes, I know. She has always been very kind to me and I love her for it. She is so talented and beautiful, I wish I were more like her.”

             
“Much of Bridget's beauty comes from within, Margaret. She has a good heart and is a fine person.”

             
Margaret headed to the bedroom to dress as Robert went in the opposite direction.

Chapter 8

             
Bridget was ready to go meet her grandfather. As she went to the door to go downstairs, her cousin laid a restraining hand on her arm. “What was that talk all about it?” Margaret asked.

             
“I'd rather not talk about it anymore, Margaret. I just had a bad dream.” She decided it would never do to let Margaret know of her suspicions, and whom she suspected. If she did, it would be all over town in no time.

             
Margaret let her go and Bridget headed downstairs to the kitchen to see if there was anything she could do for Besse before going out. She found her in a most jovial mood.

             
“Ah, Miss Bridget, you are a good lass, but thank you, no. I'm just fine, your cousin helped me with the cleaning up.”

             
“That's fine, Besse. I don't want to give you one bit of extra work on our account. I'm going for a walk with Grandfather now.”

             
“Wait, lassie,” she said. Going to the table, Besse picked up a small package. She handed it to Bridget, and said, “Here's a few biscuits to take with you, the sea air might make you hungry since you didn't eat very much this morning.”

             
She looked at Bridget's wan face with an odd expression. “Thank you, Besse,” answered Bridget wondering if this was all part of an act.

             
Then Margaret called out, “You ready to go, Bridget?”

             
“Yes, cousin, let's be on our way. Robert is probably waiting for me.”

             
The two girls were dressed in ankle length tartan skirts. Margaret's was topped with a red wool jersey, the color giving a bit of life to her rather colorless face. Bridget's jersey was white wool with a matching cap. She was in a joyous mood as she said, “I'm going to take off my shoes and stockings, and walk in the water when we get to the cove. What about you?”

             
“I'm not going with you. I already told your grandfather I’m going to the stables to have a talk with Sandy, and he said it was all right.”

             
“Well, it's all right with me too if that's what you want. This is your last day here, and you may as well enjoy it anyway you want.”

             
“Oh, Bridget, couldn't I stay longer? I love it here so much.”

             
“Afraid not, Margaret. You have had a nice visit and the longer you stay, the harder it will be for you to leave. You know you cannot stay here forever. Besides, I have been neglecting my music studies and must get back to them again.”

             
Margaret's face was crest fallen, and although Bridget had compassion for her, she also thought,
If this is how she is going to be, I shall not invite her again for a long time. She is taking far too many privileges just because we are related.

             
Robert met them before they reached the stables,  and as she went off with him Bridget jokingly admonished her cousin, “Don't get into mischief, now, and I'll see you a bit later.”

             
Margaret said nothing, just looked at the receding figures of Bridget and Robert with a blank stare, and then headed for the stables in search of either Sandy or Aidan.

             
Before they reached the water, Bridget spied Aidan astride a beautiful stallion and had to admire how well he sat his mount. He was walking the horse in the salty ocean water, and both animal and rider seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

             
As she and her grandfather came closer, he walked the horse out of the water and came towards them. Bridget exclaimed excitedly, “What a beautiful creature, Aidan! I haven't seen him before. Did you just get him?”

             
“No, lass, he was bred and raised here before you came to us. Then, he was sold to some folks out in the country, but has always been a bit wild and gave them lots of trouble. So, he came back to us.”

             
“I would never sell him if he were mine, Aidan, he is such a bonny beast. May I pet her?”

             
“He's a bit skittish, but maybe he will let you. Some people he takes to more than others.”

             
She approached the animal timidly and laid her hand on his neck, murmuring softly to him.

             
“I think he likes you, Bridget,” said Robert, “but be careful.”

             
“Oh, Grandfather, I hope he likes me. I surely like him.”

             
“Here, Bridget,” said Aidan, holding out his hand, “give him this sugar and you've made a friend.”

             
He smiled down on her as she reached for it, his hand touching hers, bringing a warm, pleasurable feeling where he touched. She looked up into his smiling face momentarily. “How do I give it to him?”

             
“Just hold it in the palm of your hand, and he'll pick it up.”

             
She approached the horse again, holding out her hand. His big yellow teeth looked scary to her, but she held her ground, and he gently picked up the sugar lumps with his lips. When he was through crunching it, she put her hand on his neck and patted him.

             
“Oh, you are a black beauty.”

             
Robert and Aidan looked pleased and smiled to each other. Aidan spoke, “I have to take him back now, Bridget. enjoy your walk.”

             
“Thank you, Aidan, we will. Robert, wait up a bit, I want to take off my shoes and stockings.”

             
“Before you do that, lass, what say ye to taking a different road today, down by the rocks where the old wine tower stands?”

             
“Let's do that. I've been wanting to ask you about that old building. No one seems to know much about it anymore, or what it was ever used for. Through the years it has become just a legend.”

             
“Well, lassie, all I know of it is, that it was built some time in the 1500's, the same time as the first castle was built on this site. The bottom part of the tower was used for wine and food storage, the upper floor was a sort of prison for any of the soldiers of the garrison who got into trouble. The story goes that the daughter of the laird of the castle fell in love with a common soldier, who was promptly put in the prison house. One night, she went there, sneaked past the guard and got in to see her lover.  Knowing the dire consequences there would be when it was discovered, they took their own lives by jumping from the window onto the rocks below.  And to this day our town sees to it that the rocks they were supposed to have fallen on are kept blood red by painting them. Makes a good attraction for visitors in town.”

             
Bridget leaned against the wall that separated Robert's property from the location of the tower and looked at the twenty foot square building, now mostly covered by moss. Smilingly, she said, “Makes a good story, but that window I see is much too small for anyone to jump out of. Would it be safe to climb those crumbling stone steps and see if we can look inside?”

             
Robert spoke vehemently, “No, lassie, that's one thing we shall leave strictly alone. It would be too dangerous and don't you ever try it. No one ever goes near the place as far as I know. It's just a legend now but makes a good landmark for passing ships.”

             
Taking her arm, he said, “Let's get down off the rocks now and go back by the sand, I like that better.”

             
“All right, Grandfather, then I shall go barefoot.”

             
When they finished their walk and started back up the hill towards the castle, the bracing sea air had revived Bridget's spirits, and the events of the previous night were all but obliterated.

 
              As they neared home, she spied Margaret all alone and said to Robert, “Maybe I shouldn't have, but I promised Margaret we could go up in the lighthouse tower before she goes home, and since this is her last day, do you think we could this afternoon? I don't intend asking her back again in too big a hurry, but thought I could keep my promise to her about the lighthouse. I feel sorry for her, she has always been more or less rejected by most people, and I just want to bring a little happiness occasionally.”

             
“I understand, lass, and I think it will be all right to go up in the tower today, but I won't let you go alone. You can only go if you let Aidan go along with you. Sandy will be up there also doing some cleaning of the lights and reflectors. Will that be all right?” he asked, looking at her enquiringly.

             
“I suppose so, Robert, but I wish I could feel more friendly towards him. He has a way of irritating me, and then I can't control my temper. I say things I hadn't intended to.”

             
Robert looked fondly at her, saying, “He thinks an awful lot of you, Bridget, and it would make me very happy to see the two of you on better terms. He's a good lad.”

             
“I'll try grandfather, really I will. Goodness where did the time go. Besse will be waiting for us for dinner.   Let me dry off my feet a bit and I'll catch up with you.”

             
“Well, the boys are probably very busy, today being Saturday. They have the day off tomorrow.  Should have been someone there though. Didn't you see Aidan? He talked to us for a bit, then rode off towards the stables on a black stallion. What a beautiful horse. How I would love to own him.”

             
“Why don't you ask for him? I'm sure your grandfather or Aidan would give you anything you want. I've seen the way Aidan looks at you with longing in his eyes.”

             
“Oh, Margaret, hush. Aidan and I don't get along well at all,” she said, but even as she spoke she was secretly pleased at what her cousin had said.

             
“Since you have to go home tomorrow, Margaret, Robert says we can go up in the lighthouse tower today and see the view, but he won't let us go by ourselves. He insists Aidan goes with us, and Sandy will be there also doing some work. You'll like that, won't you?”

             
Margaret's eyes looked somber. 

             
Bridget examined her cousin. “What's the matter? You don't seem to be too happy about it.”

             
Margaret said, “I just wish I didn't have to go home. You don't know how lucky you are, Bridget.”

             
“Yes, I suppose I am lucky, but now let's get back to the house before they come looking for us, shall we?”

             
Bridget couldn't get enough of the view of the ocean and surrounding territory. She gazed at Rattray Head lighthouse across the bay and the rounded stretch of yellow sand beach reaching to the village four miles away and the huge rocks far below them with waves continually dashing against them, thinking that the sight nearly took her breath away. It was well worth the climb up the winding stairway that led to the chamber where the light was housed.

             
She breathed deeply and turned toward Aidan, a big smile on her face. “I had no idea we could see so much from up here. I am so glad I came. My parents never allowed my sisters and me to come up here, said it was too dangerous.

             
“Aye, Bridget,” answered Aidan as if in awe, “here you see nature in all its glory. But beautiful as it is, there are times it can also be cruel and destructive.”

             
Taking her arm, he turned her around to face the north where lay two more villages just outside of town. She smiled delightedly, “I could watch this all day.”

             
Her cousin showed little interest in the view and surroundings, being more content to talk with young Sandy inside the light chamber.

             
“Let's go inside now and see the workings of this whole thing,” said Aidan, still holding her arm and guiding her along.

             
Full of information on the history of the light house, he seemed eager to pass it on to the girls.   An avid reader, he didn't lack for material in Robert's well-stocked library.

             
Bridget, all ears, listened intently as he related that back in olden days, the lamps with circular wicks had burnt only fish oil, graduating later to vegetable oil, and then mineral oil, which was being used now. “Along with metallic reflectors, the light is greatly magnified and can be seen for many miles in clear weather, but unfortunately in heavy fog they are scarcely discernible, and then the eerie sounding foghorn goes into action,” he said.

             
Young Sandy was busily polishing everything, but looked up occasionally and smiled shyly.