Mending a Highland Heart: Healing him was more scandalous than she ever imagined…

by Kendrick, Kenna

  Angus did not reply but entered the castle from the back door and climbed up the servant’s staircase, hoping to avoid as many people as he could. He went straight to his study and removed his shirt, using it to soak up the sweat that trailed down the crevice in his back and the lines of his torso. He glistened in the firelight as he leaned over the hearth, still breathing hard.

  I’m turning intae a foolish man, all this over a woman.

  He wiped his face then and put his shirt back on to sit behind the desk. He pulled a list out from under the piles of papers and then stood to call for Mrs. MacLean to join him. It was time to start thinking about the clan and not just the needs of his body or, he feared, his heart.

  * * *

  “My dear Charlotte!” General Andrews cried as she approached the Fort. She rushed towards him, and he folded her into a tight embrace.

  “Hello, Father,” she said. Despite everything, she was glad to see him and felt safe in his presence. He smiled at her, kindly.

  “My watchmen saw you approaching from the battlements. We expected the messenger boy back today, but we expected him to bring back your letter, not you yourself! What a pleasant surprise!”

  Charlotte smiled, and she wrapped her arm in his as they walked into the main room of the Fort. “I do hope I have not inconvenienced you greatly, Father. I know that I am earlier than you requested, but once I saw your message, I thought it best to come as soon as possible and help you prepare for the arrival of the Earl of Oxford. What is his name?”

  The lie came to her so easily and smoothly, she hoped that he would not question her any further about her early arrival. She was feeling like her old self in his presence: calm, collected, confident, not undone, unkind, and unfettered like in the presence of Angus.

  “His name is Mortimer Darling, and he is rather a well-connected man. The King wishes him to accompany me here and assist in whatever needs doing. He fears there are some rumors of war in the air.”

  Charlotte scrunched up her nose. “I seem to remember hearing that name before, and maybe even seeing him a time or two at balls and functions. But, we have moved around so much, Father, ‘tis hard to keep track.”

  He chuckled and placed a hand on hers. “You are right, daughter. I am sorry for that. But perhaps one day, with your marriage, we can live a life of stationary luxury.”

  The comment was made lightly and without force, but Charlotte tensed as she remembered her father’s words. It was time to think of her marriage, and she knew that he tired of military life and wished to retire in peace. She knew that was on her to provide since she was his only heir. Her uncle, her father’s eldest brother, had inherited the country estate, and with three sons as his posterity, there was no chance her father would end up becoming a country squire, filling his days with nothingness.

  She tried to smile and nod along to his words, and her father took her into the main room and set her down in a chair at the long table in the center. The Fort was large, and while not completely lacking in coziness, it was mostly sharp and harsh, decorated with military insignia, weapons, and flags, a sharp contrast to the beautiful Great Hall of Duart Castle.

  She closed her eyes once more to stem the flow of pain that started to seep through her. As her father called for tea to be brought for him and his beautiful daughter, Charlotte sat with her hands in her lap and thought, what a horrible mistake I have made.

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlotte and her father spent the next week enjoying each other’s company greatly. They played cards, discussed the latest happenings of London, all while Charlotte waited for word from Julia about her time at the trial. She would have arrived in London by now, and Charlotte was anxious that all would go according to plan.

  She spent her time reading, writing, and trying to discover what was ailing her patients. She had tried to pen a letter to Mrs. MacLean ten times by then, but it wasn’t coming out right. She kept crumpling up the pages and throwing them into the flames.

  Her father had entered her chamber once and seen her in the act. “Charlotte, you know that paper is an expensive commodity. We will surely run out by winter if you mean to go on as you have been!” He chided her, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. Her father was always thus: kind and understanding, but he had his boundaries and rules.

  “I am sorry, Father. I just can’t seem to find the right words to put in my letter.” She paused. “Father, do you think that we could send vegetables and fruits, whatever we can find, to the Isle of Mull?”

  General Andrews frowned. “And why would we do that, my dear? When we have soldiers aplenty to feed here and make sure that they are strong and healthy?”

  Charlotte searched in her mind for an excuse that her father would accept. Through her research and her own intuition, she felt this was the best solution, but she had been working up the courage to ask her father for the money and the means.

  “I noticed, in my time there, that these things are a scarcity, especially after the harsh winter we’ve had. The MacLean clan was hit hard by the winter, and so I thought, as a gesture of kindness for their hospitality, we could send them something, such as potatoes, cabbages, and the like.”

  Her father came and placed a hand on her shoulder. “What a lovely idea, Charlotte. You are right. Calum and Julia’s hospitality should be thanked. I will send for the order at once and send it out today or tomorrow if it is possible. Could you pen the note, and I shall sign it myself?”

  Charlotte beamed. “Yes, of course, father. We shall send Seamus with the vegetables?”

  “Yes. He will be happy for the extra coin. I have been so busy with you, my darling, that we have not had the time to do much work! Not that there is much to be done at present besides the men’s usual training. But, I suppose we shall see what the Earl of Oxford has to say about that.”

  Charlotte smiled, and her father chuckled. He turned to leave, and Charlotte took out a new sheet of paper to write the note to accompany the gift. He turned around and asked, “And what is the name of the man who stays there now, my dear, in place of Calum, as interim laird?”

  Charlotte swallowed, and she tried to ignore the flutter in her chest. “Angus MacLean, the laird’s younger brother.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember now. ‘Tis good they have someone tae take his place while he travels. Is he a good man?”

  Charlotte tried to make eye contact with her father. Flashes of images were going through her mind: Angus’ slight smile, his brown eyes, and the way his fingers had toyed with hers on the bed before she’d found out about the letter. “Yes, father. He is a good man. A little more reserved than his brother, but good.” She tried her best to keep her voice flat and even.

  “Ah. Well, I suppose he just needs a good woman to help him open up, does he not? Lord knows I needed your dear mother.” Her father laughed and left the room, and Charlotte closed her eyes and took a breath.

  I suppose he does.

  But she didn’t take the thought any further. She fought against that urge with all her might. She would not think of Angus MacLean, no matter how much her lips trembled for his kiss or her mind wondered curiously about how he faired now that she’d been gone. She was certain that Mrs. MacLean would do her that service without her having to ask if only she could pen the letter.

  She decided to start with the note that would accompany the vegetables. She took one more deep breath and began to write.

  Dear Clan MacLean,

  Please distribute these foods on the island, especially to those who are most afflicted with the illness. It may help them to recover. Please write to let me know of their progress.

  Charlotte Andrews

  She sat back from the page, looking at her short and terse note with scrutiny. Was it too harsh? Who would read it? Would Mrs. MacLean think her too coarse and mean? She sighed. It was all that she could do for now. The vegetables would hopefully be sent tomorrow, and that would be the end of it. She couldn’t possibly fill the note with queries abou
t all those she had left behind, especially not if Angus was to read it.

  She stiffened. She rather hoped that Angus would read her current note and hear her cold, stoic tone behind it. That would serve him right, after all, he’d done. She would never want him to know that she’d thought about him day in and day out, especially when the loudness of the day simmered down to quiet night, ever since she’d left. And she’d felt tiny pricks of regret as well. He’d probably not given her one thought and simply moved on to another pair of lips that suited him.

  She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, her anger building. Yes, that was exactly why she would finally turn her thoughts to her future marriage and securing a kind yet well-endowed husband who could provide for her for the rest of her days, and her father as well. He would be passive yet interesting, and he wouldn’t badger her at every minute of every day. She nodded, making an attempt to convince herself.

  She stayed for a moment with that thought and then shook it off. She decided it was time to write to Mrs. MacLean. And so she began the words, trying her best not to show the housekeeper how much she wished to hear news of Angus.

  * * *

  Angus sat in the study, looking at the list of things the men had brought back with them from the latest hunt. He had spoken to Mrs. MacLean, but he was waiting for her list of items that they would need most urgently. He would be leaning on her more and more over the next few weeks, as he had no idea how to go about this properly. A thought of Charlotte came into his head, and he brushed it aside quickly. It kept happening, and he was getting better and better at moving it out of his brain. The last week had been a battle at nighttime as he tossed and turned in his bed.

  The image of her face, her hair wet, and her lips pinker than ever was burned into his mind, and he couldn’t shake it. But, the daytime was easier, as there was so much he had to do, that he could easily move her away until the sun set below the far horizon. He tried his best to keep her at bay with rum and whiskey, and sometimes it worked, he being so drunk that he would fall asleep quickly, but other times, he would lie awake thinking about all of the ways their last parting could have gone differently, very differently.

  He moved his mind to current matters. The hunt had been successful, and they would have enough for weeks. He would hand out shares to the villagers and see how they fared after their healer had left them. Mrs. MacLean had been keeping him informed of how the illness grew only worse, and even more, had fallen prey to it. What could it be?

  But he would have to go on. Mrs. MacLean was tending to the people, and he would begin helping the villagers to make repairs and start planting on their land. It was imperative that he begin soon, for he knew that the Campbells would be after them in the next week or so. There was yet no word from Calum, but he hoped there would be within the next few days. And when he wrote back to him, he would need to let him know that all was well.

  The land was ripe and fertile, and after the long rainstorm, it was ready for seeds. Ah yes, the rainstorm in which Charlotte Andrews had hit her head and had laid in a bed, in a beautiful state, as Angus had stumbled words out that hadn’t quite made sense but only added to that warm tension that had turned him inside out and made him feel as though he had not remembered words at all.

  Back to Charlotte again. He stood abruptly, and the wooden chair nearly fell back against the wall. He looked at it briefly but then turned toward the door, his expression practically glowering. He wished that he could focus. Each day, he had spent his physical energy with the sword against his men, and it still wouldn’t erase the pain he felt at Charlotte’s abrupt departure. It was like she was a true thorn in his side, but in this case, she was sucking peace from him.

  As he left the study, he nearly crashed into Mrs. MacLean. “Oh!” She yelled out sharply, and Angus pulled back quickly to avoid a collision.

  “Do forgive me, Mrs. MacLean. I fear I was in a hurry tae get upon my horse this morning.”

  She nodded, adjusting the state of her hair. “Nae bother, Sir. I completely understand. I wanted tae give ye this.” She handed him a paper with her modest scratchings of food lists. “These are what we usually need for each season, and as of right now, we are nae doing too badly. I’d say we need a few more hunts and a few more times tae sell the wares, and our accounts will be within balance. But, of course, ye will be the judge of that, Sir. Our main need is food other than meat.”

  He nodded, scanning the page as he did so. “Thank ye, Mrs. MacLean. Ye have been most helpful. I dinnae know what I would do without ye. I am glad tae hear that we are doing well. The last hunt was most fruitful. Taeday, I wish tae go and see what repairs can be made tae barns and houses and begin the planting, if possible. Has Fen returned the animals tae their masters?”

  “Aye, Sir, he has done so, although he was sad tae empty Lady MacLean’s beautifully planned stables.” A few months before, Julia had created a design for a wonderful set of stables to protect the island’s animals from the harsh winter. It had impressed everyone so much, especially Fen, the stable boy, who was a self-proclaimed slave for life to Lady MacLean.

  “Excellent. Thank ye. I will be off for a few hours.”

  “I shall have food ready for yer return.”

  He walked off and then stopped, only slightly turning back. “Have ye heard from Mistress Andrews?”

  Mrs. MacLean sighed. “I’m afraid nae, but I’m sure she’ll write when she has the time. I have begun a letter tae her tae inform her of the patients’ progress. I hope she fares well at the Fort with her father. I’m sure she was happy tae be reunited with him.”

  He nodded quickly and then left, a pang of disappointment at the fact. If Charlotte had written, then he could somehow know that she was well and happy in her new home. But the fact that she remained silent felt ominous somehow as if she was trapped or unhappy now that she’d gone. But enough thoughts of the woman. It was time for thoughts of planting and protecting his clan from ruin.

  * * *

  After a walk with her father by the shore of the Sound, Charlotte sat at her small writing table in her chamber and gripped onto Julia’s letter excitedly. Finally, it had come! It was quick but loving, and she felt just a little bit lighter after her rather gloomy time of grieving for her loss of the Isle.

  Dear Charlotte,

  All is busy here in London. Uncle stands trial, and they deliberate, even though he has confessed. His lawyers are trying to use insanity to keep him from hanging, but I do not think they will succeed. I will be testifying soon. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to have Calum with me, but his eyes are widened by the hugeness of the world. He has never been anywhere, and so London feels strange to him. He seems rather like a fish upon land, but I think he’s rather enjoying it. How goes the clan? How is Angus faring? Have you sorted out your differences yet?

  Write to me,

  Julia

  Even though she knew that Julia was hoping to glean details about her and Angus, she was happy to have gotten word from her cousin. It made her feel like all was well and would soon return to the way it was. Well, not quite, but she knew that this trial meant a lot to Julia, and it would be a time for her and Calum to be together. They could return to the clan more whole and more devoted to each other than ever.

  Hopefully, they had a clan to return to. If Angus could do his job, then all would be well. And if she had stayed to help too, it would have been better. She brushed that thought aside and looked down at the letter again. It warmed her heart. She would return the letter as soon as possible. She was just about to set her pen to do so when she heard footsteps on the stairs. It was one of the lower soldiers. He knocked on the door and then called out, “Mistress, your father wishes to see you in the hall.”

  She dropped her things and left the room, following after the hurried footsteps of the soldier in front. When she arrived in the hall, she was met with her smiling, rather obsequious father, a tall thin man with large hands and a keen stare, and a lovely re
d-headed woman with spectacles on her nose and a book in her hand.

  She paused in surprise, afraid her appearance was a little too inappropriate for meeting strange guests, and her father said, “My dear, please welcome Lord Mortimer Darling, Earl of Oxford, and his daughter, Elizabeth Darling. They will be staying with us for an indefinite period.”

  Charlotte curtsied as elegantly as she could, hoping her blush of embarrassment wasn’t too obvious. She did not like to be surprised in such a way, and she eyed both of her new guests with curiosity. The young woman was beautiful but seemed shy and reserved and had curtsied as well but with slow hesitation. As for the older man, he bowed stiffly and haughtily, as if he knew a secret that Charlotte did not. And when she’d looked into his eyes, she could see a coldness that made a sick feeling climb into her stomach and tell her that all would not be well at Fort William.