To Desire a Highlander

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  He could deny it no longer.

  How could he when the truth had just hit him like a hammer blow? Indeed, his heart pounded so hard that he could hear its thunderous beat.

  “I dinnae ken what to say.” He went over to the woman, meaning to offer her his hand but ending up clutching her to him, crushing her roughly against his chest. “Howe’er did you find me?”

  “I didn’t.” His mother glanced at Grim. “He came to Doon looking for me. We have a rather notorious cailleach on the island, the great Devorgilla. She’d paid a call to Duncreag where Grim is garrison captain for Archie, your father.

  “It was Grim who’d found Archie’s other bastard son, Sorley,” she reminded him. “When he spoke about Grim’s continuing quest to locate Archie’s lads, Devorgilla urged him to come to Doon to meet me.”

  “I have heard of her.” Gillian nodded, looking suitably awed. “I should like to meet her someday.”

  Lady Liana smiled. “Perhaps you will. She travels quite a bit.”

  “I have heard she’s a right meddler,” Mungo declared, striding up to them. “I be Gillian’s father.” He caught Lady Liana’s wrist, bowing over to give her a gallant hand kiss. “Seeing as you’re here without a ship, mayhap you’ll grant us a visit at my own Isle of Sway before you return to Doon?”

  “I would enjoy that, but…” She let her voice trail away, glanced once more at Grim. She wrung her hands, then released them only to brush at her skirts.

  Roag frowned, watching her.

  “What is it?” I can tell fine something is amiss.

  “Mungo saw rightly,” Grim put in again. “The Irish trader will no’ be coming this way again.” He looked to William Wyldes, Caelan, and Andrew. “I was hoping to sail back to the mainland on the Sea Star with you when you depart.”

  The three men nodded in unison, agreeing.

  “Lady Liana will not require passage back to Doon, because”—he turned back to Roag—“she is hoping to stay on here, with you and your lady wife.”

  Roag’s jaw slipped. “She can fine,” he blurted, not knowing what else to say. “But—”

  “Oh, that is wonderful!” His mother smiled at last—the first true smile to light her face since she reached the isle. “Doon is lovely, and my home, but…” She looked down, perhaps embarrassed, before lifting her face again to Roag and Gillian. “Clan MacLean is a happy one. There are many young families on Doon, more bairns and striplings than a soul can count. I love them all, and have aye done my best to help care for them, but—”

  “There be no kin like your own flesh and blood!” Mungo hooked his thumbs in his sword belt, rocking back on his heels. “For sure, you’d be better off here. You can help care for the many bairns my Gillian will soon be giving your fine braw laddie!”

  “Father!” Gillian’s face flamed.

  “Aye?” Her father jutted his bearded chin. “Am I wrong, or what?”

  “Nae, we do want children,” she said then, her response making Roag’s heart burst. “And we would love another pair of loving hands to help raise them.” She turned to Lady Liana, hugging her and then kissing her on both cheeks. “We are honored, my lady. You are most welcome—for always.”

  Roag just looked at her, at the two of them.

  He didn’t know what to say or think. But his heart was splitting. And somewhere deep inside, hidden away in the darkest, deepest corner of his soul, little hard edges began to fall away, replaced by an ever-growing rush of warmth and sweet, golden love that swept him like a fast-running tide. It wasn’t the same kind of love he felt for Gillian, but it was powerful. It was also beautiful, and welcome.

  As if she saw his capitulation, Lady Liana then needed to dash at her cheeks.

  “You will not be sorry, I promise.” She looked from one of them to the other, then up at the tall, stout tower that, though proud, was clearly a ruin.

  When she returned her gaze to Roag and Gillian, her smile held something else. It was a look of promise and assurance that hadn’t been there before.

  “Grim has told me that your home is somewhat bare,” she said, once more lifting a glance to the cliff-top tower. “I will not praise myself. We of the Hebrides are a modest folk. But I will tell you that I am not unskilled with a needle. In all my years at Doon, I filled my hours making tapestries and embroidering all manner of linen goods for the castle and the strongholds of the clan and the homes of our friends and allies.

  “If you can provide me with needles, threads, and linen, I can make lovely wall hangings and other cloth goods for your tower.” She bit her lip then, waiting for their response.

  “Then I do believe that must’ve been yet another reason the great Devorgilla of Doon arranged for Grim to bring you to us,” Gillian declared. “I can hold my own on a galley, even manning the steering oar as well as most men. But I am clumsy with a needle. I have already been worrying about how I would make our first bairn’s swaddling gowns!”

  “Oh, my dear,” Lady Liana took Gillian’s hand in both of hers, her joy apparent. “It would be my greatest pleasure to prepare everything for the wee lad or lassie, whenever you are so blessed.”

  “Then all is well.” Gillian glanced toward the cliff path, tellingly. “Shall we return home? Break our fast together and begin our first day as a new family in our almost-new home?”

  It was her last words that kept Roag from striding after them.

  He stood frowning.

  Everyone else gathered round his sweet lady wife, his mother, whom he’d just learned he had, and his meddlesome group of friends and in-laws that all crowded his isle. They were now tramping up the cliff stair as if a grand feast had been announced.

  “Are you not coming?” Gillian was back at his side, hooking her arm in his. “You can’t stay down here while everyone else is in your hall, lifting their cups to your mother and our new home, the completion of your work here.”

  “Odin’s balls, lass, have you run daft?” Roag gripped her shoulders, looking down at her. Are you so excited about gaining a good-mother that you’re forgetting this is no’ my isle? Or that finishing my work here means we’ll surely have to leave?

  “Not at all.” She lifted up on her toes to kiss him.

  “I see it differently.”

  “ ’Tis you who are not seeing everything,” she argued, her smile taking the sting out of her words.

  Roag stepped back and folded his arms. “Then tell me what I’m missing—save wishing it was night so I could sweep you off to our grand bed and ravish you!”

  “See?” She wagged a finger at him. “That alone proves what you’re overlooking.”

  “Oh?”

  She nodded, beaming again. “Your friend Alex Stewart sent you more gifts than our bed and your new laird’s chair, and the viands that your friends sadly had to pitch into the sea.”

  “He is a good man, aye.” He wouldn’t deny that.

  The Wolf of Badenoch treated his friends well.

  “He is more than good.” Gillian stepped closer, slipped her arms around him. “I was just speaking with Grim—”

  “I knew he was behind this.” Roag flashed a look round the landing beach for the big beard-ringed lout, but he was already gone. Vanished up the cliff stair with everyone else, perhaps even now claiming a seat before the fire of Roag’s hall.

  A fine driftwood fire that was only borrowed.

  A truth that ripped his soul.

  “Grim cannae keep his nose out of others’ affairs.”

  “You should be glad that is so—I am.” Leaning into him, she rested her head against his shoulder, took a deep breath. “You have said that you’ve come to love this isle. That you would rather stay on here than return to Stirling. Is that still so?” She drew back to look at him.

  “You know it is.” He didn’t hesitate. “Indeed, as soon as our guests leave, I want us to sail for Stirling so I can speak with King Robert. I shall petition him to allow me to remain here, as his guardian of this isle. The location
is a good one. There is always a need for someone to keep an eye on sea traffic, in time of war and in peace.”

  “You have been planning this?”

  “I have.” Roag was rather proud of the idea. “I will convince him that I am that man. The guardian he needs—”

  “What if you could stay on here as Laird of Laddie’s Isle?” Gillian’s smile widened, and a tear caught on her lashes and then rolled down her cheek. “What would you say to that?”

  “I would fall onto my knees and kiss the ground.” He meant it.

  “Then, Laird of Laddie’s Isle, I greet you!” Two more tears leaked from her eyes.

  Her smile wobbled as she dashed them away. “Laird,” she repeated.

  “What are you saying?”

  “Only what your friend Grim told me.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the cliff stair, the tower where so many dear souls waited for them. “When Alex Stewart learned that we’d handfasted and then also heard that Grim had found your mother, a Hebridean woman, he suspected that, now that your work here was finished, you’d rather stay on. Grim said that, as a Highlander himself, the Wolf understands the pull of wild places.

  “Knowing you as well, and all that’s transpired, he told Grim he believed you’d be a fine man to watch this corner of his brother’s kingdom.

  “Not,” she added, pausing at the start of the cliff stair, “as a keeper, but as laird. This isle and its tower are now yours, my heart.” She swept out an arm, taking in the sea and the cliffs and the tower, the cloud-chased sky, and the ever-racing wind. “He had only one stipulation, and Grim swore to him that he’d see it done.”

  “Alex tied string to it?” Roag’s heart sank.

  “He did.” Gillian didn’t look troubled at all. “He insisted that the tower bear your name. From now and ever onward it shall be known as Roag’s Tower.”

  “Nae…” Roag just looked at her, the strange buzzing back in his ears.

  His fool eyes were also stinging again.

  His heart split wide. In truth, he wasn’t sure it could expand enough to hold the love and happiness welling inside him. Indeed, he might burst with it!

  He did drop to his knees.

  “What are you doing?” His sweet lady wife’s eyes rounded.

  “Only what I just said I’d do.” He grinned and bent low, pressing a kiss to the rocky ground.

  Then he leapt to his feet and crushed her to him, kissing her even more soundly. When at last he broke away, it was all he could do not to pull her back into his arms for still more kisses.

  But their guests were waiting.

  Still, he bracketed her face, looked deep into her eyes. “I love you so much, lassie. I dinnae want to think what would have come of me if you hadn’t been waiting for me the day I arrived here.”

  “You needn’t worry about that,” she said as they began the climb to Roag’s Tower. “Even if my father hadn’t brought me here, we’d have found each other, somehow, somewhere.”

  He cocked a brow. “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  “More of your ancient ones and faerie notions?”

  “Not at all.” She leaned in to kiss him. “It is a matter of the heart.”

  Epilogue

  Laddie’s Isle

  In a hidden place beneath Roag’s Tower

  Several months later…

  Hamish Martin didn’t think he’d ever been so happy.

  Leastways, he hadn’t been in all the endless years he’d spent on the wee isle that living men had given his name. Yet the Laird of Laddie’s Isle and the lovely lady that was his wife stood just outside his hidden place deep beneath their tower, and what he’d just heard them say filled Hamish’s small, insubstantial breast with so much joy that he feared he might burst.

  Hoping that wouldn’t happen—he didn’t think bursting would be good, even for a bogle—he wondered if he dared to sift himself out of the small round chamber where he now hovered so excitedly. But the pair’s words echoed around the low-ceilinged sea cave and he couldn’t resist listening to them again and again. They were so wonderful even his ears were smiling…

  You are certain, my love? The Laird of Laddie’s Isle had asked his wife, setting his hands on her shoulders and looking at her with so much love and wonder that Hamish almost forgot to keep himself unseen, so greatly did he share their delight.

  His wife, Lady Gillian, as Hamish now knew she was called, had nodded, smiling. Then she’d lifted a hand, dashing sparkling tears from her cheeks.

  As sure as I can be, aye, she’d told him, stepping back to place a protective hand on her middle.

  Hamish was sure he’d never seen a living soul shine as brightly as the lady did in that moment. But then the other lady, the older one he knew to be the laird’s mother, joined them and as she’d slid her arm around Lady Gillian, she’d beamed just as brightly. Then she’d said the words that Hamish would remember always…

  My dear son, your lovely lady wife is so certain that she’s even decided on a name for your child.

  He will be called Hamish.

  The laird had grinned then—Hamish had noted that he smiled a lot—and agreed that the name was a good one. Then he’d wrapped his arms around both ladies and hugged them tight. He’d just released them and now stepped back to glance up at the tower, its walls glistening from a recent rain and, somehow, looking proud.

  But not near as much so as the laird.

  “Hamish it is then!” He nodded once, his gaze going to his wife. “Is Hamish a MacGuire name?”

  “No,” Lady Gillian said, looking puzzled for just a beat. “The name just came to me.” She smiled and glanced Hamish’s way, though he knew she didn’t see him. “It just felt right.”

  “So it does,” the laird agreed, still grinning. Then he lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck as if a chill had prickled his skin. “So it does, indeed.”

  And then they were gone, the three of them talking excitedly as they headed back toward the cliff stair. Hamish didn’t linger at the opening of his little sea cave.

  He didn’t want to watch them disappear.

  He didn’t like being alone. Worse, something was wrong with his hiding place and much as he tried to think, he couldn’t decide what he’d done to cause the difference.

  The blue was gone.

  He knew the bright blue light that often hovered around him frightened many living men, but he’d grown used to shining. And sometimes, when he was lonely and feeling sad, he’d watch the walls of his wee cave shimmer and shine, the dancing light and sparkles keeping him company.

  Now his little hiding place was only cold and dark, the cave’s walls black and damp, no different than the rocky cliffs just outside on the beach.

  I can’t bear it, I tell you.

  A woman’s voice floated to him from the shore, soft and sweet, hauntingly familiar. We must go in there and fetch him. It has been too long, we have waited enough.

  He can only leave with us if he comes out hisself, a man countered, his voice just as known—and dear—to Hamish as the woman’s. I dinnae mind if you sift his wriggly new puppy here to draw him out, but we’re no’ going in there.

  If we do, he’ll be lost to us.

  Hamish’s eyes rounded. His heart started knocking so fast his entire body shook and quivered.

  His parents were outside his hidden place!

  And not just them—the blue light was out there, too. He could see its shine through the small cave opening. It was beautiful, dazzling, and a much prettier shade than he’d ever seen, the shine of it brighter than the stars and sun.

  One more heartbeat, his mother warned his father, her eagerness to see Hamish making his eyes leak. At the least, I shall count the waves, and when the ninth one rolls ashore, I will go in there and—

  “Mother!” Hamish ran from his cave, glad that he knew the rocky beach so well, because his tears almost blinded him. “Father!” he called, his wee legs moving faster than they ever had. “I am
here! See me, I am here, with you now!”

  And then he was, their shining arms reaching for him, hauling him hard against them in a hug so tight he again wondered if he might burst. He’d also never felt as much love as now rushed through him, filling him with so much warmth he doubted he’d ever be cold again. Not now, with his parents come to collect him.

  That they were here to take him away, he knew.

  Ghosts were smart, he’d learned long ago.

  Some things were just clear to them.

  Yet…

  He drew back from the embrace, his gaze lifting to Roag’s Tower. Lights blazed in the windows and the sounds of pipes and fiddles, and merry laughter, drifted on the wind. The good folk who dwelled there were celebrating, it was clear.

  Hamish knew why, and for a moment, he wished he could join them.

  “They need you nae more, lad.” His father followed his gaze, approval on his face. “You did us proud these years, my boy,” he added, his voice roughening as he ruffled Hamish’s hair. “But it is time for you to come home.”

  “We have missed you so!” His mother dropped to her knees, pulled him into her arms again, raining kisses on his face, his brow, and his hair.

  “I missed you, too,” Hamish admitted, again blinking back tears.

  But they were happy ones. And when his mother at last released him, straightening, he gladly let them take him by the hands and lead him down the shore. Not toward the cliff and its steep stair carved of stone, but toward a beautiful moored galley that shone a brilliant blue and glittered as if all the stars in heaven had swept down to grace its hull and sail, to light the way.

  “Are we truly going home?” Hamish looked up at his parents as they reached the surf’s edge and started sifting across the water, drawing near to his father’s ship.

  “We are, laddie, aye.” His father smiled down at him.

  And this time Hamish’s heart did burst.

  At least, he thought so. But it was with happiness and there was nothing frightening about it. Then, as was the way with those of other realms, the three of them were aboard the blue-shining galley and in a blink, they were away.