When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  At the ancient kirk door, Reverend Robertson welcomed the couple. Hamish gave Nessie a sheaf of wheat, and she gave him a piece of woven cloth.

  Gideon whispered in Lissie’s ear, “What’s the meaning of that?”

  “It represents their promise to each other to provide for their home.”

  Next the couple exchanged a dagger and a bible. “This shows his physical pledge and her spiritual pledge to defend their home.”

  The guests crowded into the small church. Near the altar, Lachlan’s sword hissed as he unsheathed it to make a circle around the couple. As he did so, the couple said in unison,

  “The Mighty Three, my protection be, encircle me,

  You are around my life, my love, my home.

  Encircle me, O sacred three, the Mighty Thee.”

  Reverend Robertson finished the ceremony and presented the couple to the crowd. “You may kiss the bride.” Hamish took Nessie’s hands in his and stared at her for a long moment. Then he dipped his head, brushed his lips lightly across her mouth, and leaned his forehead against hers. The intensity of the love between them shone brightly and brought tears to Alisabeth’s eyes.

  For the first time, she regretted what she and Ian had not shared. Yes, they had loved each other but not like this couple. That pureness had been missing; that passion exploding not only in physical desire but also emotional need. The devotion and tenderness for one another that was so obvious between Nessie and Hamish had not been part of her marriage. She and Ian had settled for deep affection and friendship.

  Panic seized her as her fingers searched again for the silk gloves in her pocket. Ian could have found this kind of love with another if she had refused the betrothal. Had she denied him a chance of true happiness in his short life? Pain stabbed her chest. She was young and still had years in front of her. The thought that Fate may yet send her a love such as theirs sent a nauseating wave of guilt through her stomach.

  I’m so verra sorry if I robbed ye of such an opportunity. Ye ken how much I cared for ye, she silently told him. Alisabeth fought back tears when a blurry handkerchief appeared in front of her. She blinked twice, sniffled, and gratefully took it.

  “It’s usually my mother that needs this at a wedding so I came prepared,” whispered Gideon, squeezing her hand gently as she grasped the cloth in her palm. Her whole body tingled from his touch. The sensation replaced the pang of remorse in heart and put a smile on her face. She could not change the past so she would think only happy thoughts and enjoy the day.

  Gideon took his place on the dais next to his mother. They sat to the right of Calum and Peigi, the bride and groom on the left. Directly below, his aunt and cousin were seated with Alisabeth, her parents, and the MacDunn men. Calum stood, raised his glass, and made a toast to family and clan. Then he passed the two-handled quaich down the table. The couple filled the ancient vessel with whiskey and moved to the table below. Hamish gave it to his father, who took a drink then offered it to Alisabeth’s father, who did the same. The couple then drank from the cup, and the hall resounded with loud cheers.

  “That particular cup is a family relic but the Quaich is a tradition in weddings of different clans. The two handles are for the joining of the families.” Maeve lowered her voice. “Since Nessie’s parents are not here, Lissie’s have taken their place in the joining ritual.”

  Gideon found the entire ceremony intriguing. There seemed to be a reason or symbol for everything. His practical mind shook its head at some of the traditions, but another part of him embraced them. Customs bound these people together, gave them a common ground that transcended class or title. It was a comforting thought—that one belonged no matter his birth.

  The afternoon became a gluttonous affair. Wine, ale, and food flowed. Gideon had never tasted venison so tender or vegetables so well-seasoned. Every dish tempted him—until a platter was presented to his grandfather.

  “What in the devil is that?” he asked his mother. It looked like a roundish, oversized sausage.

  “Haggis. Oh, ye are in for a treat. Heart, liver, lung…”

  His stomach clenched.

  “Boiled in a sheep’s stomach,” she added wickedly.

  Calum took a polished blade to the bag, and the skin split, ground offal, oats and grains spilling out in a steaming heap. Much to Gideon’s surprise, the spicy aroma was pleasant. He took a polite bite or two and gave the rest to his mother.

  Once the meal was over, the music began. How a person could dance after so much food was baffling. In England, they danced and then ate at a later hour. The guests gathered in two long lines, couples across from one another, and the fiddler and small pipes took up a lively beat. The couples took turns weaving their way up and down the line, skipping to meet in the middle then back. It was similar to an English country-dance so Gideon knew he’d be able to muddle through a set if his mother asked.

  “My dear, I’ve been meaning to ask ye a favor.”

  He smiled, assuming she wanted a partner for the next set. “Anything within my power, Mama,” he answered generously as he took a drink.

  “I’d like to bring Lissie home with us.”

  He spit out the red wine. “W-what?” Picking up a cloth, he wiped his chin and dabbed at the spreading stains on the white linen.

  “Oh my, are ye all right?” she asked, pressing her lips together as her mouth curved ever so slightly. “I was thinking how lonely I get, and Etta won’t be staying long once we return. She’ll want to be home to have the baby. Ye’ll be busy, and with winter approaching, it would be nice to have some female company. I didna realize how much I’ve missed it since the girls have all gone.”

  “I understand. You just took me by surprise. Why Lissie?” he asked, wondering how to make the pulse stop pounding in his head. It had been difficult enough the past weeks being so near her, and the image of that exquisite creature in his home…

  “I’ve noticed the two of ye get along quite well. Ye play chess or cards most nights, ye sing well together, and she and I have the liveliest conversations. I thought it might be a nice distraction for ye also when ye’re home.” She smiled brightly and patted his hand. “I have a feeling it would be good for all of us.”

  “Only a feeling or did ye dream it?” His eyes narrowed. “We still need to have a conversation about that.”

  “Ye are right. She is the reason for my vision. The purpose for coming here.” Maeve sighed. “I dinna ken why, but she has a part to play in whatever the future holds.”

  Is that why he was drawn to her? Why she invaded his sleep and his heart lifted when she entered the room? Gideon threw back the rest of his wine. Maybe he should stop searching for logical explanations until he was back in England. “So, one mystery explained but another yet to be solved?”

  The groom’s father appeared and bowed low over Maeve’s hand. “Lady Stanfeld, ye are a vision tonight.”

  Or having one, Gideon thought ruefully.

  “Rory MacDunn, it’s been too long,” his mother purred.

  What was going on here? Was she flirting with this man?

  “That is not of my doing, ye ken.” He winked at her, a dimple showing in his cheek. “It seems we have something in common now, my lady.”

  “Aye, we do. Both of us widows.”

  “May I have the pleasure of the next dance?” His broad smile, perhaps the result of too much whiskey, crinkled the corners of his green eyes. “I would die a happy man tonight if I was to hold ye close for even a moment.”

  She stood with a dazzling smile then said over her shoulder, “Gideon, I do believe Lissie is in need of a partner.” Maeve offered her hand to the towering Scot and glided onto the dance floor.

  Heat reddened Gideon’s neck. What the devil was going on with his mother? And how could she know of his attraction to Lissie when he was just realizing it himself. Alisabeth’s pink cheeks told him she had overheard. He took comfort in their shared embarrassment and approached the table. “Would you care to dance?”<
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  She fumbled in her pocket, closed her lids for a brief moment, and looked up at him. It had not been embarrassment that stained her smooth complexion. The pain in her eyes hit him like a punch to the gut. He had the urge to pull her to him, stroke her hair, and make her troubles disappear. But the expression passed so quickly, he wondered if he’d misread it.

  “I would love to, my lord.”

  Her silky tone washed over him. Placing her fingers in his outstretched hand, he stiffened at the jolt of her skin against his. The slow burn began in his belly again, his body tense and hot. Nothing seemed strong enough to put out the fire. Gideon had never had such an intense reaction to a female. It unnerved him. Setting his shoulders straight, he was determined to act like a gentleman and pretend nothing was amiss.

  The fiddler gave a warning note and the couples lined up. The pipes joined in and the first couple cast off. Gideon frowned as his mother went around him and back to MacDunn. He’d almost forgotten how graceful and light she was on her feet. An appreciative gleam also shone in MacDunn’s eyes.

  When it was his turn, Gideon moved around his neighbor and met Lissie in the middle. Their fingers clasped, and he saw her intake of breath as they circled one another. It was the same each time their hands touched. She must also feel it. By the end of the dance, they were both breathing rapidly. He was glad for the excuse of physical exertion, though he was too fit for one dance to tire him. And the way she rode a horse, so was Lissie.

  He thanked her and returned to the dais. His mother soon followed, her laughter tinkling like a spoon against china. It pleased him to see her in such high spirits again but irritated him that it was a man who had achieved it. “Did you enjoy the dance?”

  “Oh yes, immensely. And it seemed ye did as well.” Maeve nodded her head to acknowledge a couple passing by. “What do ye think of my idea?” she asked, continuing to smile and nod at guests.

  Gideon realized putting miles between them would not erase Lissie from his memory. She was beautiful, intelligent, full of life, and could spin a tale as well as his mother. Everything his father had told him to avoid in a wife. If she came back to England, he’d know if the attraction was purely Lissie or if it had something to do with the allure of the Highlands. He would bide his time and see where it led. There was no hurry; he was a young man with no dire need for an heir right away. “I think if it makes you happy, it makes me happy.”

  “It’s settled then.”

  “What about Grandfather? Will Aunt Glynis let her go?” He had a suspicion this had all been discussed previously.

  “Yer cousin Brodie will remain in the Highlands to help his mother since Lachlan has take Ian’s place at the mill. And Glynis still has Bridget, though she behaves more like a son than a daughter. Da believes Lissie will heal faster if she is away from Naught Castle.” She patted his hand. “As I said, I have a feeling about her. She was meant to be a member of our clan so I’d like to support her if I can.”

  “When will you ask her?” Perhaps he could also help remove the pain from those tawny eyes.

  “We leave next week so it must be soon.”

  Less than an hour passed and MacDunn returned for another dance. Mama’s delight was infectious, and he searched the crowd for Lissie. He found her with the children, dancing in a circle around Gavin, who hopped and tapped his feet in the center.

  “May I interrupt to request this reel?” He bowed low and was pleased to see her smile. She curtsied in response.

  As they made their way to the group of dancers, Gideon leaned near her ear. “I have a secret. I’ve never danced a Scottish reel. Are they much different?”

  “When we begin changing partners, it can get a bit confusing. Just hold out yer arm, and someone will send ye in the correct direction. The round is complete when we meet up again.”

  “I am in your hands, my lady.”

  Her giggle sent a flush of pleasure through him. Better than brandy on a cold winter night.

  Chapter 8

  “There is nothing in the whole frame of man which seems to me so unaccountable as that thing called conscience.”

  —Robert Burns

  Gideon prayed he did not make a fool of himself. The fast-paced reel began in a circle, all participants holding hands. They split off into four lines, connected at the center, and moved in a clockwise direction but not with hands held. No, the dancers put their arms around each other’s waist and twirled. It felt so natural to pull her against him, have her cling to him as the steps quickened and the momentum pushed their bodies closer together. When they separated, he missed her curves pressing next to his until the clasping and whirling began all over again. This time when the dance ended, he was truly out of breath. Lissie’s chest heaved as she gulped in air, the smile on her lips so sincere and inviting, he almost dipped his head for a kiss. With extreme self-control, he restrained himself to a hand at the small of her back.

  “I need some fresh air,” he heard his mother exclaim. “Gideon, why don’t you bring Lissie out with us?”

  “Aye, that’s a grand idea,” agreed Alisabeth.

  “Rory, would ye get a drink to soothe my parched throat?” Maeve rested a hand in the crook of his elbow, and said over shoulder, “We’ll meet ye both in the garden.”

  Gideon held out his arm and Lissie accepted. Twilight had descended and a breeze stirred the leaves of bushes and plants. “So walks without a chaperone are permissible? At home, this would be scandalous.”

  “It’s fine unless ye have some devious plot to kidnap or have yer way with me. But with yer mother coming soon, I dinna think ye’d risk it.” She peered up at him, straight-faced but mischief sparkling in her amber eyes. “I didna think ye the type but still waters run deep as they say. We’re told as children every Englishmen has at least a wee bit of villain in him.”

  He stopped and faced her. “Lissie! I can assure you—”

  Her laughter hung on the night air. “The English have no sense of humor, I swear it.”

  “I’m offended. Of course we do. I do. It’s just a more subtle humor. And I’ll have you know, I pulled plenty of pranks at university.”

  Gideon heard a rustling sound at the edge of the garden. He paused at a stone bench. Guiding Lissie onto it, he peered into a dense grove of trees. “I believe there are faeries watching us from the branches.”

  She turned her head quickly, eyes squinted in concentration. “Where—” She smacked his arm as he sat down next to her chuckling. “Ye’ve proved yer point.”

  “I’m curious. Are Scottish women generally as educated as you? The books you’ve read, the politics. It doesn’t seem to fit with this life.”

  “We canna be learned without being pompous like the English?”

  “Pompous?” He puffed out his chest and realized too late how it looked. With a guffaw, he admitted, “I suppose many of us give that impression.”

  “We are firm believers in education for both sexes. First, it was religious in nature. All of God’s creatures should be able to read the bible.” She shrugged. “My da doesna believe women’s minds are inferior to men’s, so I’ve been educated like a son except for going to university.”

  “I agree with your father.” They sat for a moment, enjoying the quiet of the evening and the faint sounds of pipes and violin floating on the still air. She looked forward, a wistful expression in her golden eyes. Gideon leaned closer, breathing in the lavender scent of her skin and hair.

  “Do you believe in romantic love?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “The poets do. Yer mother does…”

  Yes, he wanted to murmur in her ear. You make me believe in things I never thought possible. Instead he quoted Lord Byron:

  * * *

  “And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

  The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

  But tells of days in goodness spent.”

  * * *

  Alisabeth turned her face
to him, her eyes searching his, their faces close.

  * * *

  “A mind at peace with all below,

  A heart whose love is innocent!”

  * * *

  Gideon tilted his head, focused on those full pink lips, knowing he could not deny himself a kiss. Just a kiss. He bent close, their breaths mingling—

  A soft whimper jerked them from the moment. Alisabeth leapt to her feet. A rustle of leaves and another high-pitched moan, like an injured child or small animal. She picked up her skirts and moved around the bench.

  “Lissie, wait. You don’t know what it could be.” Gideon mumbled a curse, both at the interruption and her disregard for safety as she hurried into the shadows.

  “Gideon!” He looked down the dark garden path they had taken, barely illuminated by the castle lights, and saw a dark form moving toward him. A scream pulled his attention back to the small copse of trees. Without hesitation, he darted into the woods.

  “Lissie!” The muted colors of her clothes made it hard to track her. Panic squeezed the breath from his lungs. “Lissie!”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the glint of a blade and knew the first true moment of terror in his life.

  Alisabeth thought a child had wandered off from the cèilidh. Her heart went out to the poor thing. She was also thankful for the respite. Without a doubt, she would have kissed him. Saints and sinners, ye’re a wanton, disloyal—