Her Highlander’s Promise (Highlanders 0f Cadney Book 4)

by Fiona Faris

  “I wish I could tell ye more about the lass in the manor house. I dinnae remember much from when her Da used tae come tae th’ village. I couldn’t have been much older than Cal is now, but ye ken how bairns are. We were more interested in gettin’ intae trouble than learnin’ about our friends.” Speaking of the lad, Aithe had been impressed with how quickly Callum had eaten his fill, then dashed off, presumably to go with the other village children. “But I ken I played with the lass. That I do remember. Not many English came tae our village back then,” Meg said.

  “My own Da used tae say that her father, Mr. Winterborne, was a good sort. Cared about people more than politics,” Fergus said. “By the sounds of it, his son was th’ same.”

  “Aye, Christopher was a good man. Sometimes a friend made in battle can become closer than a brother.” Aithe looked down at his hands. They used to be strong hands, but they weren’t strong enough the one day it mattered. It was his fault that Christopher died, and that truth clawed at him. He should have tried harder to pull Christopher ahead of himself in the blast, Christopher, who had someone to return home to, someone who needed him. Aithe needed to make it right, and the only way he knew was to protect the one thing Christopher held dearer than any other. Alice. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of memory and grief that threatened to anchor him to the very spot.

  “I’m afraid we were nay much help tae ye, but we are glad ye came through, just the same.” Fergus brought him back to the moment.

  “As am I,” he said, smiling at the friendly couple. “And I appreciate all ye’ve said. I’ll be headin’ up tae the manor house. I intend tae keep after the lass.”

  “I would caution ye tae be careful when dealin’ with Westing, Aithe,” Fergus added, his face turning serious. “I ken I told ye he keeps to hisself, but that doesnae mean he isnae cruel or cunning man. If he thinks ye are coming between him and something he views as his, he willnae hesitate tae attack.”

  “Aye,” Aithe said as he stood, wiping his hands on his trousers. “It’s good counsel, Fergus. I’ll nay forget it. Nay will I forgive yer kindness.”

  “Aithe, if ye need anythin’, please consider us friends,” Meg added.

  “I will, indeed.” He nodded his appreciation. “But I should leave ye now, I would like tae get tae th’ manor house before nightfall.” The couple walked Aithe towards the front door and they parted ways amicably… Aithe grateful for their Scottish kindness.

  Once he was outside, he made his way toward the cliffs. Fergus and Meg both agreed it was the quickest route to the manor house. He looked back briefly and smiled. Fergus stood at the gate to their cottage, offering up a wave, his other arm snuggly around Meg. A pang of something lit in his chest.

  Longing?

  Domestic life was never something Aithe craved. Between his own parents and his aunts and uncles, Aithe knew what true love looked like. He understood the value of a happy, loving home. Yet instead, he had convinced himself he wanted something different. He had wished for adventure. Exploration and battle motivated Aithe to seek out the life that led him to the mines. Yet, seeing Fergus with Meg and Callum made him think perhaps he had it all wrong.

  As he walked along the cliffside, he looked out into the sea. He and Alice would not be a love match, but he would do right by Christopher’s memory. He could protect her and give her a life. Aithe could only hope she would be open to the idea, to his suggestion at protecting and caring for her in a way he could not care for Christopher. He hoped too, she would accept his apology for not saving her brother.

  The manor house was in view. Aithe was impressed by how it rose from the moor. It was clear, by the look of the home, that the Earl of Terwick was most powerful. There was a wall that surrounded impeccably manicured gardens. A stable house sat to his left. There were no people about, but by the sun’s position in the sky, Aithe assumed it was already close to afternoon tea.

  The air was sweet with freshly shorn grass, and Aithe wondered if life in the manor house was as horrible as Christopher had made it sound. Everything around him looked rather pleasant, and based on the grandiosity of the manor, there was enough financially to provide. But, Aithe corrected himself, that doesnae mean the inside is as pleasant as the outside. Perhaps he would not be welcomed at all.

  A commotion took his attention from the gardens. A woman was running toward him and the cliff’s edge. His heart sped up, she was clearly in distress. The way she ran, looking back in fear, she was distracted. Aithe looked in front of her and gasped.

  If the lass didn’t look up, she would run headlong over the cliff’s edge. Aithe broke into a run toward her, yelling and waving his arms. He ignored the pain that moved through his leg and moved as quickly as he could towards her… to do whatever it took to stop her, feeling a deep need to protect this lassie at all costs.

  Chapter Three

  Dead, Christopher was dead. It was impossible. If her brother were dead, Alice would know it. Surely, she would feel something, anything other than the hollow, emptiness she usually felt in her uncle’s presence. The world should feel different somehow.

  “He must be lying,” she cried out loud. Yet why would the old man lie? If Christopher were alive, her uncle would be rid of her and paid back in full for the expense of taking her in. If Christopher were dead, he would succeed in marrying her off to the Earl of Treadmont and take on a handsome sum for his troubles. Either way, Uncle Felix came out winning.

  “You’re not lying.” Her uncle turned. She wondered if her grief affected him and knew it did not matter when he shook his head. There was no look of remorse in his gaze, no sense of despair, no fear or worry; it was just as though he had not delivered the worst news of her life. In fact, he looked rather pleased. Rage and grief mixed inside, and her breathing quickened… she felt suffocated. Without warning, she needed to escape, and the library could no longer contain her.

  The room spun as she stood. A wall of grief overcame her... she had to run… needed to run far away.

  “Where are you going, girl!” Felix shouted after her as she sped from the room. She did not care whether he chased her, whether he scolded her or punished her. Nothing was worse than not having Christopher around… of being married and shipped off to Sussex with a man she did not know or love.

  Alice was no longer worried about pleasing her uncle. What was the point? Backbreaking obedience had left her with nothing. Uncle Felix would not allow her to grieve for her lost brother, the only real family she had. Her uncle was determined to treat her as property marrying her off to a wretch of a man from the South. Bound to a fate she did not choose, borne from her uncle’s greed.

  Sobbing, she ran through the gardens. She was blinded by her tears and did not care that she headed for the cliffs. If Christopher had gone to meet God, she would follow. There was nothing left for her.

  A loose tree branch caught the hem of her skirt as she ran. In her haste, the fabric ripped away as she pulled free. She had to keep her footing, and stumbling over the torn skirt did her best to keep running. She needed to distance herself from her uncle. How cruel that he did not tell her the sad news as soon as he found out? A disappointment spread through her… she should have known. He was her brother, and she should have felt his loss even if there had been no words.

  Fresh tears stung her eyes, obscuring her vision as she ran headlong into what seemed to be a solid wall, losing her breath with the force of the collision.

  “Are ye daft, lass?” The wall spoke, and Alice reared back looking up and staring into the calm green eyes of the tallest man she had ever laid eyes on.

  “My apologies,” she said with stifled speech, using her hands to push herself back up from the ground. The man reached out and helped her, pulling mightily so that she smacked against his chest. She could feel the day’s warmth through the fabric of his shirt. Or was that his body heat? He steadied her with hands tightly on her shoulders, not letting go.

  “There’s nae need fer apologies, lass.
But I have tae ask, were ye tryin’ tae run off th’ cliffs?”

  Scots, she heard it in his voice. As her vision came into focus, she gave him a solid once over. He wore the traditional plaid instead of the trousers favored by English men. His clothes were clean but worn and looked as though he had journeyed a long way. She looked down, unable to answer his question, unable to lie, even to a stranger, but how could she admit that running off the cliffs was precisely what she intended to do.

  The man placed a warm, soft finger under her chin and gently lifted her head so that they were gazing at each other. Alice’s cheeks grew warm under his intense gaze. She shifted her focus from his eyes to his chest, where her hands still rested.

  Absent-mindedly, she fondled a loose button on his shirt. “Someone should mend this for you.”

  “Aye.”

  She lifted her head and met his eyes once again. He had kind eyes. Could she tell him? Could she confide in a complete stranger? She should be afraid, but instead, felt something inside of her break away from convention.

  Without thought or concern for her actions, she leaned up on her toes, needed to feel something at that moment, anything but the urge to no longer exist, and quickly pressed her mouth to his. A shock of warmth and feeling filled her as their lips met. He moved his hands up to her shoulders and kissed her back. His kiss was firm and reassuring. She should run away from him, this man who appeared out of nowhere, exactly when she needed the touch of another human.

  Alice thought to pull back from the kiss, but instead, when he embraced her, softly nibbling at the edge of her lip, she let out a small sigh. How long had it been since anyone treated her with such care? Then as quickly as it began, he pulled away.

  “Lass, ye dinnae answer me.” The timbre of his voice was deep, slightly melodic. His brogue covered her in its velvet smoothness before reality surfaced again. A single, errant tear ran down her cheek.

  “Forgive me, I’ve lost my head. You see, I’ve just learned my brother is dead.”

  “Are ye Lady Alice?” This man knew her name, and she stepped back, startled.

  “Yes, why yes I am. And who might you be?” Alice did not know whether to continue trusting the man or whether to listen to her logic and run from him. “How do you know my name?” She pulled away from him as quickly as he had pulled her close. The loss of his body against hers left Alice feeling cold. The man in front of her seemed in conflict, unable to say what was on his mind, and she was suddenly very aware of how wild it had been to jump into the arms of a stranger.

  “Lass, please dinnae apologize. ’Tis I who overstepped.” He put his hands up in surrender. Alice gave him a small, meek grin, and he released the breath he was holding. “My name is Aithe MacGille. Yer brother, Christopher, was my friend, a brother really.” Suddenly Alice understood why he knew her name, why he felt so familiar to her. But what was the man doing here? Had he come to tell her of the loss himself? What were the odds of her running into this man, just after she found out the news from her uncle?

  He stepped back and ran his hands through his hair.

  “Now that I’ve had a chance tae look at ye, I can see the resemblance, ye have the same smile.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m happy to meet someone who knows my brother or knew him” she paused and shook her head, the news still reeling through her body. “But why are you here exactly?”

  “Ye didnae receive my letter then?” Aithe seemed shocked. “But, I sent ye an introduction, tae ye personally, tae announce me arrival.” Aithe started to pace in front of her.

  “Sir, I’m quite sure I never received any letter.” Alice wrung her hands, looking around to see who, if anyone else, was about. “Besides, how would I know you, sir, simply from a letter? How is it that you’ve come to be at this exact place in this exact moment?” Now that she had been standing in front of the man for a short while, she was beginning to get nervous and overly cautious. She questioned him, one after another, needing to understand why he was there. He gently took her elbow and moved her away from the cliff’s edge and back toward a nearby tree.

  “Lady Alice,” he guided her to a hollowed-out log, sitting her down gently. Aithe seemed to be weighing her words between measuring the distance to the cliffs with his eyes. “I wrote tae ye a month past, hoping to send word of my arrival.”

  Alice took a small breath. “A month?" Why was she only finding out about this now? More importantly, why was this man here to begin with.

  "But why are you here, Aithe?”

  He took a deep breath before responding.“Christopher an’ I fought together an’ served together in th’ mines. He was a brother tae me. When he died—”

  “You’ve known more of my brother in the last four years than I, Mr. MacGille. Were you with him when—” She placed her head in her hands and continued to sob. Aithe put his arms around her shoulders.

  “Hush, now lass. I ken how much it hurts.” He whispered over her whimpers

  “To …to never see him again…”

  “Aye, I ken. I ken.” Aithe slid across the log and pulled her close. “Ye can cry with me, lass. Let it go.” Alice hated this, hated that she was breaking down in front of a man she barely knew. But it was all too much. She still didn’t even know how he died, what happened, and to find out in addition to the marriage arrangement. It was as if her adult years were doomed to be a series of misfortunes.

  “I didn’t mean to be so emotional like this,” Alice began, but Aithe interrupted her.

  “Nay, lassie, tis alright. Ye’ve been through a lot today, and ye cannae expect tae hold it all in. I’m sorry, too, fer th’ kiss. Fer ye findin’ out like this. I wish I coulda made our first meetin’ a bit more special. Yer brother and I were close.” Aithe looked down at Alice. She felt grateful to have him here, even if their meeting had been somewhat awkward to begin with. But there was nothing either of them could do for now.

  “I am very grateful you are here, Aithe. And, about the kiss, we can both forget about it. It happened in a moment of grief and passion and longing for a world where my brother was not dead. For now, there is much I must face. I suppose 'tis time I dealt with all of this. I can’t go running away, especially now that you’ve arrived. Not that I had any idea of where I was running to?"

  “Aye, an’ I must get inside and, mayhaps have a small chat with yer uncle. We can forget the kiss happened, of course. But, lassie, I’ll be near if ye need me. Ye dinnae have tae face this alone.” Aithe peered deeply into her eyes, and she felt a sense of comfort wash over her, knowing that whatever the rest of the day brought, at least she had her brother’s friend to help guide her through it or serve as a source of comfort.

  The two turned and started towards the manor. Alice could not help but wonder what her uncle would think of Aithe, and if there was any way he could help to save her from the terrible fate that awaited her.

  Chapter Four

  “It isn’t often we have guests,” Felix Westing, Earl of Terwick, handed Aithe a glass of what he assumed was brandy. “But I do say it has been a pleasure having you here these last few days. With only more enjoyment to come.” He tipped his own glass in Aithe’s direction. The overly sweet drink favored by the English never did anything to please Aithe. He much preferred the strong whiskey of his home. But as a guest, he took the drink with a pleasant return nod to the Earl.

  “I appreciate your hospitality, me lord, an’ that of yer niece.” Aithe nodded toward Alice, who sat in the corner of the library, he was sure she was merely pretending to be engrossed in her book. Even with only knowing her a short time, he could clearly see she was wary and always listening.

  Since his arrival, Westing has insisted that Alice be present for all teas and meals, though Aithe could see her heart was not it in. Despite the close proximity between them, Aithe had not yet had an opportunity to speak with her alone since their initial meeting. Either she avoided him, or Westing purposely kept him occupied, plying him with questions regarding his fam
ily and lineage, and showing off what he deemed the treasures of his home. The man seemed obsessed with wealth, power, and dynasty. But Aithe had yet to see any evidence of the cruelty Christopher described. Even without the evidence, however, he trusted that the old man was merely putting on a show for his sake.

  “I do admit that I was concerned, especially knowing your past with my nephew as accused traitors to the crown.” From her corner, Alice stifled a cough. Aithe looked pointedly at the older man.

  “Aye, th’ follies of youth. We both suffered th’ consequences dearly, and rest assured,” Aithe tapped his mangled leg, “I’m nay a threat tae th’ English any longer. Lessons harshly learned.”