Highlander Ever After

by Paula Quinn

  Abigail’s resplendent smile lit the halls. Despite her heavy woolen Highland skirts and boots, she carried herself with regal elegance. Sina could easily imagine her holding court with the queen. “Mother sent me to find ye.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to have put you to trouble,” Sina said. At the same time, she realized Ula had slipped her huge head under her palm. She thought to move her hand, but she left it there, her heart beating hard and fast. She didn’t want a dog—or a man—to win her heart. She must remain loyal to her other life.

  “’Tis no trooble at all,” Abby assured her. “I was worried ye might have awakened and gotten lost in the castle. But I see ye found my brother.”

  Before she could stop herself, Sina’s gaze skipped to him. He was smiling at her as if seeing her for the first time. When she realized why he was smiling, she moved her hand away from Ula. She couldn’t let him think she was giving in, accepting this life.

  “The ladies are in the sewing hall,” Abby said, taking her hand. “We’d love fer ye to join us. But if ye’d prefer to stay with Adam—”

  “Nae,” he said, looking inside the great hall. Someone threw a cup into the hearth. “I think,” he said, turning his light gaze on Sina again, “ye will enjoy yer afternoon more with the women. They’ve been at work all morn.”

  Sina felt completely stunned and disgusted with herself at the twinge of disappointment she felt that he didn’t want to spend time with her. They didn’t have to stay in the great hall. They could take a walk—oh, what was she doing? She needed to spend less time with him, not more.

  She didn’t mind sewing with the other ladies. In fact, her embroidery was often considered among the best at court.

  “Are the ladies working on a tapestry?” she asked Abby with piqued interest. Why would she prefer spending another day with Adam when she could be sewing?

  Sina let Abby take her arm and lead her away.

  She turned one last time to look at Adam over her shoulder. She didn’t want to do it. Her mind didn’t listen.

  He was watching her leave, his gaze on her backside, sweeping up to look into her eyes when he caught her turning. He winked, patted Ula on the head, and returned with her to the great hall.

  “He’s really no’ so bad,” Abby told her, smiling in a way that made Sina want to deny whatever the possible future chief might be thinking.

  “I’m beginning to see that,” Sina told her honestly. “He’s been kind and thoughtful, but I don’t—”

  “Aye,” his sister agreed. “He’s been known to be those things on occasion. Daniel thinks verra highly of him. He believes Adam takes things more seriously than he lets on.”

  Sina agreed with General Marlow’s assessment. “And you?” she asked softly. “What do you think of him? Do you think he could be chief?”

  “I dinna know,” Abby told her honestly as they turned the corridor that led to the sewing room. “He has never proven to me that he even wants to be chief. I care too much to let someone who doesna care aboot the clan lead it.”

  But Adam did care about the clan. He cared enough to marry her for their good. He cared about its values enough to memorize their origins.

  She thought about why she was willing to defend him when he didn’t even want to be chief.

  They reached the sewing room, and Abby pushed open the door. Light from the high windows and two enormous hearth fires drenched the room and the women looking up from their needles.

  Heavens, they were all here. Sina felt as if she was on display as she stepped inside. Lady Davina’s smile was warm and familiar. Adam’s great-aunt Maggie hurried to her side with a strip of olive-green fabric. She held it along the length of Sina’s arm, around her waist, from her neck to her torso. “Just as I thought, gels. My measurements were correct.”

  “No one doubted ye,” Adam’s aunt Isobel assured her, exchanging a smile with her daughter Violet.

  Did Maggie just measure her? Sina looked around at the patterns of dyed wool the women were each working on.

  “What are you all sewing?”

  Maggie looked up at her and blinked her wide eyes. “Why, they’re dresses fer ye, dear. Ye’re a MacGregor now, and wearin’ the same dress fer days is a bit…” She paused and offered Sina a little quirk of her mouth. “…savage.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lord William Standish shoved his finger under his large, high-parted wig and scratched his itchy head. He wanted to tear the heavy wig off him, rip out his sword, and slice open George of Hanover’s belly.

  “Tell me this is a cruel trick,” he demanded, refusing the chair he was offered in George’s private chambers. “You did not send your daughter to the MacGregors.”

  The prince elector raised his gaze from the flames in the hearth. The fire continued to burn in his dark eyes when he set them on William. Very few knew Sina was his daughter, and even fewer were bold enough to speak of it.

  “Use caution, pup, and think about who would love you next if you didn’t have a tongue. Now, you will use it to tell me who spoke to you of the MacGregors.”

  “’Twas the queen.” William tried not to reveal the pleasure he felt at seeing Sina’s father squirm. The prince elector never liked him. George had agreed to bind his daughter to the powerful Standish family for his own good. He looked down on William, always seeing a scrawny boy with a bloody nose or a bruised face.

  “Through Sina, the queen and I became friends,” he said with a slight upward tilt of his chin. “I went to her before I came to you. Knowing of my love for Sina, she finally gave me the name.”

  It wasn’t exactly what had happened. Anne had been barely coherent. She had no idea who William was while he kneeled at her bedside. She babbled words, some unintelligible, some meaningless to him. A few words she repeated. The others he kept to himself.

  “Sina was sent to the MacGregors,” he continued boldly, proving he was no mouse. “Probably in the care of Anne’s beloved General Marlow.”

  Rather than give William the satisfaction of seeing the soon-to-be-king flounder, George rose to his feet. “Wherever she is, ’tis done.”

  William almost shook with rage. He held it at bay, having learned the art as a child. “Do you know what you handed her over to?” He didn’t care what George did to him. If he’d truly traded his daughter over to these people, he deserved to know who they were. “I’d wondered about the outlawed clan since I learned General Marlow wed himself to one of them. It didn’t take long to discover that a band of MacGregors were responsible for kidnapping the Duke of Queensberry’s niece. They held her for ransom to force the duke not to sign the union with England act.

  “There are others who are said to have killed Andrew Winther the Baron of Newcastle in cold blood. ’Tis not surprising since one of them was James I’s private assassin. If all that weren’t enough, I’ve discovered that some of them are known pirates!”

  Her father finally spoke, concern marring his voice. “Pirates?”

  “They sail with Captain Kidd, son of the more infamous William Kidd, who was hanged right here in England.”

  George wiped his brow and moved away from the hearth. “Is there more?”

  “They are Jacobites, in favor of a Stuart crown. Lady Claire Stuart, a distant cousin of Anne’s, is married to one of them.”

  George’s expression dissolved into horror. “Anne tried to keep the Stuarts connected to the new crown.”

  “So ’twould seem. There might be more. I’m looking into it.”

  William would do anything to get Sina back. If any savage had touched her, he would find a way to kill him. No matter what it took.

  Her father nodded his head and waved his hand to dismiss William.

  “And if you decide to have her returned to the palace,” William pressed, “will you honor the promise you made with my family?”

  “We shall see.” George faced him and took a few steps closer. “In the meantime, enjoy the masquerade ball tonight. I’m certain ’twill be as
rife with decadence and gluttony as the many scandalous nights of anonymity you enjoyed while you toured Venice.”

  William’s blood went cold. Someone had told George of his lustful appetite while he was away. “I was gone for three years,” he ground out in his defense. “Would you have me be celibate?”

  George’s smile did not reach his eyes. “I would have you not disgrace my name. Based on what I’ve been told about your behavior, my decision on where Melusina might be better off will not be an easy one.”

  William’s muscles twitched beneath his long, flared coat and hose. Everything—everything he’d worked for, his betrothed, his aristocratic life among the gentles. He wouldn’t lose it all. He wouldn’t lose her. “What you heard is not true, my lord,” he promised, his chin now dipped to his chest. “I give you my word as a gentleman. I had a few dalliances, but my behavior remained impeccable. I ask you to allow me to face my accuser.”

  “I just might,” George assured him. “You may go.”

  William left the chamber and leaned against the door when he shut it, trying to control his temper. He’d learned much on his adventure across Europe, fencing and dancing in France; he’d endured crossing the Alps, tested his mettle, and studied the ruins of ancient Rome, but nothing had prepared him for losing Melusina.

  He couldn’t fathom never seeing her again. He’d thought of her often on the tour. Her sweet laughter and large innocent eyes haunted him on many nights. Of course he’d found ways to get her out of his dreams.

  He was a virgin when he’d started his adventure. But oh, the decadence of Venice especially had lured him into a different life than the one of polite society he’d sought. After his first taste of a woman, his desire became an obsession. He never thought Sina’s father would hear of it—that he would rip her from William and put her in the arms of another.

  He’d gone on the grand tour for her, for his future with her, and for the things her father promised him. Was it too late to get her back?

  He walked the hall on the way back to his chamber. At least there was the ball tonight. He would drink and dance, but he would keep his lance in his breeches. He’d prove his loyalty to George’s daughter and find out more about the MacGregors.

  His eye caught sight of a pretty servant girl heading in the other direction.

  He would begin tomorrow.

  His blood still boiled over being so poorly treated by George.

  He called out to her, halting her departure. “You! Come here!”

  He smiled slightly at her breathless response, her pretty brown eyes wide with fear. It made his blood rush to his groin. It was so much better than him being afraid. Still, she wasn’t moving quickly enough.

  He stepped forward and grasped her wrist. He yanked her close and growled against her ear, all courtesy gone. “Do as you’re told.”

  Davina reached for a small, handled mirror, much like the one Sina had seen in the queen’s chamber.

  All the women—fifteen in number—crowded around Sina in the sewing room. They had fixed her pleats and dusted unseen motes off her skirts. Fingers belonging to more than half a dozen women had pulled at the soft wool at her shoulders, her waist, her hips, and her bosom. Now most stepped back, waiting while Davina held up the mirror for her reaction to all their hard work. Abby and Nichola finished weaving the last of the tiny sprigs of heather into her thick blond plait and joined the others.

  Sina stared at her reflection, her breath stalled at her lips. She brushed her hands over her belly and the snug stays holding her together beneath a white arisaid with stripes of crimson, black, and blue. The wool was finer, softer than anything she owned or that she had seen at court. It reached from her neck to her heels and was fastened at the breast with a lovely silver buckle and tied at the waist with a belt. Her rich, deep blue petticoats beneath were full, falling to her ankles, swaying with the hems of her arisaid as she moved.

  “How did you produce such a vivid blue?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Some woad and blueberry,” Maggie told her proudly. “Does it please ye?”

  Sina swallowed. She looked as if she belonged here with them, dressed like a Highland lass. Her home and the people she loved pulled at her heart, but these women had toiled all day, perhaps even days, making these garments for her. “I don’t own anything this fine in England,” she told them truthfully.

  The women smiled, pleased with themselves—and pleased with her for the first time.

  “We made ye two dresses,” Maggie said, pointing to Gillian and her daughter-in-law, Amelia, who was heavy with child, while they held up another dress stitched in tartan similar to what the others wore.

  “And,” Davina added, springing to her feet and reaching for a bundle of brightly colored gowns. “These were mine. Dearest Aunt Maggie made them for me when I first came here.” She exchanged a warm smile with Adam’s great-aunt as they shared fond memories. It struck Sina suddenly what a happy life Davina seemed to live, taken in by this clan. They all seemed happy. No wonder Adam laughed so often.

  “We adjusted the size and added a lovely hem fer length,” Davina continued, returning her attention to Sina. “But I’m afraid they are long out of fashion. Ye’ll let us know if there are other alterations ye would like us to make. I know ye must miss yer own gowns. Ye’re welcome to sew with us and design whatever ye like.”

  Sina eyed one of Davina’s gowns, dyed lavender in a wool and linen blend. It looked elegant, yet simple, without the wide hoops popular at the palace. She would have loved to try it on now. She didn’t know what to say. A simple thank-you didn’t seem enough. “You are all so kind and I have been so dreadful.”

  More than half of the women refuted her charge. A few of them agreed. Violet spoke up. “We thought ye hated us.”

  “No,” Sina promised regretfully. “I was dealt a deep wound by the queen. I was angry. I fear I still am, but not with any of you. Forgive me if I was rude.”

  She caught Davina’s eye and the furtive smile the chief’s wife offered her. Davina was pleased with her apology. Maggie and the others appeared pleased as well, forgiving her generously.

  “Which will ye wear today?” Maggie asked her with a curious slant of her brow.

  Again, they all waited to hear her choice. Sina wasn’t ready to integrate so quickly, but what could she do without insulting them? And the wool was so fine. What was dressing like them for a day going to hurt?

  “I think I’ll remain in this.”

  A collective sigh rang out at her decision. At the same time there came a knock at the door.

  It opened and the women parted in front of her, creating a path and an open view of Adam standing at the door, staring at her.

  She felt flames burn across her face as he took in the sight of her, pausing to smile at the heather in her hair, and then at her. He liked how she looked. Why shouldn’t he? She looked like she belonged to him, with him, here in the mountains. Here, with his family.

  Oh, she cursed her traitorous heart for allowing herself to be so bewitched and beguiled.

  “The ladies have been busy,” he said softly, tracing his gaze over the length of her until his eyes came to rest on hers. “Are ye pleased with yer new clothes, Sina?”

  “Very pleased,” she replied. Only when she tried to smile did she realize she was scowling.

  He quirked his lips and arched his brow, then smiled at the women. He thanked them for their thoughtfulness, scooped up the rest of the garments, and announced that he’d promised some of the men he’d bring Sina by their homes for a more personal visit with their wives, most of whom were in the sewing hall.

  “Why are you brooding, Adam?” she asked after they climbed the stairs. “Don’t you like the dress?”

  “I do. Ye’re the one who doesna like it.”

  “What?” she demanded, pulling on his sleeve to stop him before they reached their bedchamber. “What do you mean? Why would you say that? I’m wearing it, am I not?”

  “Aye,
” he allowed, “but ye dinna like it.”

  Her eyes opened wider. She tightened her lips. She could have slapped him where he stood.

  He didn’t back away but stepped closer, tempting her to breathe more deeply and wash herself in the scent of clean air and mountain mist.

  “When I asked ye if ye were pleased with yer new clothes,” he continued, lowering his voice and his gaze to her lips, “yer reply wasna truthful. ’Twas clear in yer eyes.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “In the subtle nuances of yer expression. Ye are no’ pleased.”

  She felt defeated. How could she keep her true feelings about being here from him if he could read her so easily? Since he could, she wouldn’t make a fool of herself by continuing to lie. Besides, for some mad reason, she liked that he forced her to be truthful, mostly because for some even madder reason, she trusted her truths with him. Possibly because he’d been forced into this life with her. He understood how she felt better than anyone else because he felt it too.

  “I’m trying to make things a little easier, Adam. What more do you want?”

  His gaze on her cooled and then softened before he stepped away and reached for the door. “Ye’re right. I should be praisin’ ye fer puttin’ my kin’s feelin’s above yer own. Ye have my sincerest apologies.”

  She paused behind him and couldn’t help but smile. She knew he wouldn’t remain angry. She liked his lackadaisical nature, but she understood that such a trait wouldn’t benefit a clan leader.

  She hurried in after him, noticing, with an odd quiver over her spine, that a bolt had been nailed to the door.

  “’Tisn’t that the dresses don’t please me,” she tried to explain when he reached the bed and dropped the clothes onto it. “They are beautiful and well crafted. I’m just not—”

  “Aye, I know,” he assured quietly.

  “Thank you.”

  They stared at each other across the bed. “Thank ye fer tryin’.”