Read Online The Highlander's Servant: Book One of the Highlander Possession Series by Savannah Vining - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Savannah Vining
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dressed in a green gown despite the late hour.
“Take Lachlan, and the both of ye hide in the cellar.” My father spoke with a stern tone, “I donna want either of ye to be involved in this.”
My mother did no’ question him, and she carried me to the cellar to where many of the servants hid as well.
She had sat me in her lap and began to sing the lullaby she always did when I couldna sleep. In mere moments, my eyes drifted shut and I had fallen into a slumber.
Sleep did no’ last long for I had been abruptly awoken by the harsh yells of men and the clanks of metal against metal. My mother squeezed her eyes shut and was rocking me back and forth, her lullaby becoming drowned by the painful cries of the fighting men.
The bloodshed must have lasted hours, before a man from our clan opened the cellar doors and announced that it was all over.
“We have gained victory.” The man yelled while the servants and my mother began to stand on their feet.
“How is my husband?” my mother had rushed, her voice more than worried. She held onto my hand tightly, pulling me behind her as she walked towards the man.
He gave her a regretful look, “Lady Bateson,” his eyes straying lower, “I fear that Laird Bateson has been wounded.”
“Where is he?” she snapped in response.
The man’s gaze met hers once more, “I feel that ‘tis no’ the best time to see him.”
She glared harshly at him, “Where is he?” she grounded out once more.
Defeated, he whispered, “Follow me. I will take ye to him.”
My mother was never one for backing down, and as she dragged me along behind her, she kept her head raised high. She seemed unaffected by the mangled bodies on the ground, but I ken that determination was the only thing keeping her strong.
My mother saw my father before I did. I ken because of the way her face fell and her hand tensed around mine. It was only when she knelt down next to him, did I see the gruesome sight.
Blood was gushing from his stomach and it was clear to me that he had been stabbed brutally. My father was gasping for breath, as the pain was most likely unbearable.
My mother covered her mouth with her hand, and began to sob at his side. He reached a cold hand out to her face and stroked the side of it lovingly, “My heart will only ever beat for ye.” He whispered, making her eyes shut at the dying sound of his voice.
Then, his gaze met mine and he choked, “Come here, my boy.”
Still so young, I did no’ completely understand what was happening but I felt fear for my father. I knelt down next to him, too, and he placed a heavy hand on my knee.
“Take care of yer mother. Yer now in charge, son.” He choked, tears brimming my father’s eyes. I had never seen him cry before, “I am so proud of ye.”
Those were his last words to me, as his hand dropped to the ground and his eyes closed for the final time.
A few years later, when I had only the age of eight, my mother became bed ridden. Her illness only grew worse, and the servants practically forbid me to see to her. I will never forget the day she passed, for the clouds had been gray and the servants quiet.
I swore to myself I would remain strong, but I couldna help the tears from falling that one night.
Kirstin was breathless and she was not shameful to let her own tears fall from her eyes. Lachlan had endured what no child
“Take Lachlan, and the both of ye hide in the cellar.” My father spoke with a stern tone, “I donna want either of ye to be involved in this.”
My mother did no’ question him, and she carried me to the cellar to where many of the servants hid as well.
She had sat me in her lap and began to sing the lullaby she always did when I couldna sleep. In mere moments, my eyes drifted shut and I had fallen into a slumber.
Sleep did no’ last long for I had been abruptly awoken by the harsh yells of men and the clanks of metal against metal. My mother squeezed her eyes shut and was rocking me back and forth, her lullaby becoming drowned by the painful cries of the fighting men.
The bloodshed must have lasted hours, before a man from our clan opened the cellar doors and announced that it was all over.
“We have gained victory.” The man yelled while the servants and my mother began to stand on their feet.
“How is my husband?” my mother had rushed, her voice more than worried. She held onto my hand tightly, pulling me behind her as she walked towards the man.
He gave her a regretful look, “Lady Bateson,” his eyes straying lower, “I fear that Laird Bateson has been wounded.”
“Where is he?” she snapped in response.
The man’s gaze met hers once more, “I feel that ‘tis no’ the best time to see him.”
She glared harshly at him, “Where is he?” she grounded out once more.
Defeated, he whispered, “Follow me. I will take ye to him.”
My mother was never one for backing down, and as she dragged me along behind her, she kept her head raised high. She seemed unaffected by the mangled bodies on the ground, but I ken that determination was the only thing keeping her strong.
My mother saw my father before I did. I ken because of the way her face fell and her hand tensed around mine. It was only when she knelt down next to him, did I see the gruesome sight.
Blood was gushing from his stomach and it was clear to me that he had been stabbed brutally. My father was gasping for breath, as the pain was most likely unbearable.
My mother covered her mouth with her hand, and began to sob at his side. He reached a cold hand out to her face and stroked the side of it lovingly, “My heart will only ever beat for ye.” He whispered, making her eyes shut at the dying sound of his voice.
Then, his gaze met mine and he choked, “Come here, my boy.”
Still so young, I did no’ completely understand what was happening but I felt fear for my father. I knelt down next to him, too, and he placed a heavy hand on my knee.
“Take care of yer mother. Yer now in charge, son.” He choked, tears brimming my father’s eyes. I had never seen him cry before, “I am so proud of ye.”
Those were his last words to me, as his hand dropped to the ground and his eyes closed for the final time.
A few years later, when I had only the age of eight, my mother became bed ridden. Her illness only grew worse, and the servants practically forbid me to see to her. I will never forget the day she passed, for the clouds had been gray and the servants quiet.
I swore to myself I would remain strong, but I couldna help the tears from falling that one night.
Kirstin was breathless and she was not shameful to let her own tears fall from her eyes. Lachlan had endured what no child
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