The Highlander’s Lost Bride (The Highlands Warring Clan Mactaggarts Book 2)

by Anne Morrison

  The light was falling fast by the time Margaret and Aidan started up the long path to Doone Castle.

  Margaret took a deep breath. She had been thinking of something for the last few days, and she knew that now was the time to address it.

  "Aidan, you are so close to home. I believe I can make the rest of the way to MacKinnon lands on my own."

  He didn't even glance at her.

  "No."

  "Aidan, you have been away from your clan and your lands for too long. It's not so terrible a journey that I cannot make it on foot and by myself."

  "Margaret, I said no. You are not traveling through these lands on your own."

  "Why not? I am at least half MacKinnon, and I know the old paths. It's only another two days from the doors of Doone Castle to my mother's cottage."

  Aidan spun on her so fast she fell back a few paces, her eyes widening.

  "By all the saints above and all the devils below, you will not defy me in this! I have started this task, and I will finish it!"

  In the ever-darkening day, they gazed at each other, and for a moment, Margaret wanted nothing more than to fight with him. Fighting with Aidan would feel better than whatever this was growing between them, would be better than simply giving in to him and his way.

  Then it struck her like a lightning bolt. She could hear it in the depth and unsteadiness of his voice, in the way his hands clenched at his sides. Aidan wasn't angry, or at least, he wasn't all angry. No. He was hurt as well, and it tore her heart.

  It was wrong of me to ask him to do what he did. I should never have called upon him.

  It did not matter that he was the only one she could have called, the only one who had a chance in hell of rescuing her.

  It was still wrong to wake the dead the way she had done, and whatever there was between her and Aidan, it was dead and should have remained so.

  "Yes," she said. "I'm sorry."

  Aidan looked slightly wild then, and she had no idea what was going to happen. Then the moment passed.

  He shook his head and started up the road to the castle again.

  "You have done nothing to be sorry about," he said gruffly. "Never."

  * * *

  One of the lookouts must have announced their presence, because Reade MacTaggart appeared to meet them at the gates, a wide smile on his handsome face and a slender blonde woman by his side.

  "Well, I had thought I would have to rule without you throughout the winter," Reade said, greeting his brother with a laugh. "And what a sorry mess you would have come back to then."

  "I am hardly looking forward to what it looks like after only a few weeks," Aidan retorted. "I am only glad that Elizabeth was here to keep you at work."

  "How do you know she didn't simply incite me to bad behavior?" said Reade with a wink.

  The woman, Elizabeth, only smacked him on the arm.

  "Because he knows me better than that, Reade. Welcome home, Aidan. And this must be Margaret? I am pleased to meet you, Margaret."

  Margaret was startled to find out she was known to this woman who she did not know, but she came forward to clasp hands with her in greeting.

  "I am Margaret Barton of Clan MacKinnon, but I am afraid you have the advantage over me."

  "That's Elizabeth MacTaggart, my wife," Reade said proudly, and it occurred to Margaret that there was some kind of history there. Women were always something else before they took their husband's names, and she wondered if Elizabeth's past was something they would rather not get in to.

  "Margaret, it is good to see you again," Reade continued, stepping forward to take her hand. "Have you been leading my brother a merry chase as you once did?"

  "She's been doing nothing of the sort," Aidan said shortly. "If you want to be so courtly, set up a room for her. She hurt her ankle yesterday and should get some rest.

  "I'll do it," Elizabeth volunteered, and to Margaret's surprise, she looped her arm through Margaret's and drew her away into the castle while Reade and Aidan stepped closer, likely to talk about what had happened while Aidan had been away.

  "He's wonderful, but not all that practical sometimes," Elizabeth said with a smile, and Margaret felt herself warming to the other woman.

  "Please don't put yourself out. We will not be staying long..."

  "Oh, but you cannot leave so soon," Elizabeth exclaimed. "Not with the harvest festival tomorrow night."

  Memories rushed back, tinged with bonfires, roasting meat, and the sweet taste of cider. For some reason, Margaret wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

  I am home, I am truly home, she wanted to cry out, but she had never felt as alone as she did right then.

  * * *

  Aidan came looking for her a short while after that, knocking on the door with a plate of cold meat and bread.

  "Mairi insisted that I bring this to you since you've had no food since noon."

  "Mairi's still chatelaine here?"

  "If you want to be so French about it. She looks after things, aye."

  Mairi had cared for Doone Castle since Aidan and Reade's mother had died, a cousin of some sort. Margaret had never met her, but everything she had heard had made her think the older woman was kind.

  Margaret started to turn down the food, but her belly rumbled, and she gave up. Aidan set the food down at the small table where she sat, and instead of leaving, he sat down across from her as she ate.

  "You will not reconsider letting me go forward on my own," she said.

  Aidan shook his head.

  "It'll be fine. We'll start off tomorrow after breakfast..."

  "And have you miss the harvest festival? I wouldn't want that on my soul."

  Aidan looked faintly startled.

  "Who told you about that?"

  "Elizabeth, but if I looked out over the village green, I would have seen the preparations myself. You love the festival, Aidan, or has that changed?"

  Aidan gave her a small smile.

  "I always have, but it is more than that, these days. It is a good time to stay close, to meet clan members who do not often get to come except in times of war."

  "That makes sense."

  Margaret wondered if Aidan would say that he could send her with Reade or someone who was less necessary, but he only shrugged.

  "Will you mind delaying for a day, perhaps two? It would be good for you to stay off your ankle, rest more than you have been able to."

  Margaret realized that she was simply tired of fighting with Aidan. She didn't even want to fight him on this, so she simply smiled instead.

  "For a day or two. All right."

  "You will stay?"

  Both of them jumped a little as the door that Aidan had left unlatched squeaked open, and a tow-haired girl in a sleeping shift peeped in.

  "You will not leave again?" she asked in a soft voice.

  Aidan's voice softened immensely.

  "No, pretty girl. I have another trip to take in a few days’ time, but then I shall be home for the winter."

  The girl lingered at the door until Aidan patted his lap, and then with a small squeak of joy, she pattered across the floor to be lifted up in a hug.

  "I had thought you would be long asleep," Aidan murmured.

  The little girl shook her head.

  "No. I was, but then I heard you."

  "And you came to find me. What a good poppet you are."

  Margaret stared at the pair in surprise. Aidan held the girl with a kind of protective love that could only make her his, and her stomach dropped to her feet, the food forming a tasteless ball in her belly.

  Aidan glanced at her over the little girl's head.

  "Maisie, this is my... old friend, Margaret Barton. Margaret, this is Maisie, who has been staying with us some years now."

  Margaret murmured a greeting to the little girl, who looked up at her with wide liquid eyes.

  "Are you come to stay at Doone Castle like Elizabeth and me?" she asked.

  Margaret shook her head.<
br />
  "No, dear heart, I have my own home to go to. But I am glad you are so happy at Doone."

  Maisie laughed, a delighted sound.

  "Papa takes good care of me," she declared, taking Aidan's hand.

  Margaret felt cold water pour into her heart.

  "I am glad he does."

  Aidan's face was unreadable as he scooped Maisie up in his arms.

  "Time to put you back to bed, poppet. Margaret, shall I see you tomorrow?"

  "You will," she said automatically, but when the door closed behind the pair, she latched it at once, unable to calm her beating heart.

  Aidan... had a bastard daughter?

  The feelings tumbled through her until she thought she would shout, and when she finally did lie down to sleep, her dreams were fraught with the laughter and sobs of little blonde girls, running around the edges of the corridors right before she could catch them.

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  chapter 33

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  The harvest festival started at the break of day, with people eating quick breakfasts and then heading out into the common areas to take in the decorations and the competitions. One area was set aside for livestock, another for vendors selling food and drink, and yet others for the competitions that were scheduled throughout the day.

  The village was full of more people than it was at any other time of year, some people staying with relatives packed in their houses, while others simply slept on the green. It was a wild and raucous time, and for all that Aidan loved it and the part he had learned to play in it, he couldn't help but keep an eye out for Margaret.

  Reade and Elizabeth had promised to look after her but given the eyes that they were making at each other, he wasn't sure he would have trusted them to look after a barn cat. They had been married for almost a year, but there was still something wide-eyed and longing about them, and he had the idea that they would make good use of the fact that he was back to take up his duties as laird again.

  Not that he blamed them. There was something terribly appealing about the idea of slipping away and finding Margaret, showing her the best the clan had to offer, perhaps buying her something sweet to eat or seeing if he could show off by winning one of the sword or stave competitions.

  He hadn't seen more than a few glimpses of her, however, and finally, as the day wore on and the light started to fail, he could see with a flinch that she was avoiding him.

  "At least you have kept me company," he said to Maisie, who was nibbling at an apple that seemed as large as her face.

  Maisie grinned up at him, and he tousled her pale hair, feeling the kind of peace that he always did when she was close by.

  It was late, and the torches had been lit, by the time Mairi came to collect Maisie.

  "She can sleep with the Tilveys' children for the night," Mairi said cheerfully, not lagging at all despite her years. "Then I can see to the dancing after she's settled. Are you going to give us a turn, Aidan?"

  Aidan automatically shook his head. There had never been much of anyone he cared to dance with before, and though that had changed... well. Things were difficult, to say the least.

  "I am so glad you and the MacKinnon girl put your father's wickedness behind you," Mairi said, walking off with Maisie. "It was always a crying shame, after all."

  Aidan started to go back to the festival to search for food, but he was brought up short by Mairi's words. What?

  He followed her to the Tilveys' cottage, listening as Maisie was settled with the other children, and then he stepped in front of her as she came back out.

  "Oh! Aidan, it is not kind to give an old lady such a fright."

  "You mentioned my father. What does my father have to do with anything?"

  She stared at him.

  "She has not told you?"

  Aidan gritted his teeth.

  "Margaret keeps her secrets as close as a bear keeps his teeth."

  "Well, perhaps you can ask her..."

  "I am asking you, Mairi," he said, putting some force into his voice.

  Finally, she nodded.

  "Mind you, I would not have said anything if I thought she had not told you. But you came home with her, and I saw how you looked at her this morning, and I thought, well..."

  It was, Aidan thought, possibly a mercy she had not seen Margaret looking at him, because that would have been a different story.

  "Your father was a good man, you know. He was. Hard. But he wanted the best for his clan, and for you."

  "Of course."

  "And he wanted you to marry a girl who suited you. Well-born, proper, and decent."

  Aidan could feel a muscle twitch in his jaw.

  "I made no secret of who I wanted to marry."

  "Yes. So, he gave her money and sent her on her way. I don't know what happened after that, but we heard about an English lord, and her father, but... who knows. She is back now, and knowing your father, he would not have made her an offer she could very easily turn away from... But it does seem sorted now."

  Aidan felt as if a great buzzing had taken over the place where his thoughts should have been. Margaret had been offered money to turn him down? His father had done that?

  It was as if all the blue in the world had been revealed to be red instead. The world around him wavered. He managed to say something to Mairi, and then he walked—more stumbled—toward the village green.

  He had to find Margaret and get the truth.

  When have I ever gotten the truth out of her, something inside him demanded. When have I ever managed to make her tell me the truth?

  I'll get it from her tonight, he swore to himself.

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  chapter 34

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  Despite herself, Margaret was enjoying the festival. She had thought she would be cordially ignored or even mocked the way she had been at the festival held by the MacKinnon clan where she was born, but the MacTaggarts apparently took kindlier to bastards and strangers.

  With Elizabeth and Reade to shepherd her along, she got to enjoy the festival as she never had before, eating bites from piping hot meat pies, trying her hand at some of the casual games that were set up, and getting to pet every sheep that a farmer was convinced must be the best sheep born that year in Scotland.

  She couldn't remember the last time she had had such a good time, and the only thing wrong— missing, her mind insisted—was Aidan.

  Sometimes, she would catch a glimpse of him through the crowd, and her heart ached. The Aidan she saw on MacTaggart lands was kind with a laugh that warmed her. He belonged here, the same way a wolf belonged in the forest. This was his place and his people, and knowing that, truly understanding it, made her feel as if someone had punched her hard in the belly.

  He's almost home to stay. And this will never be my home.

  At some point in the day, however, Margaret had come to a simple conclusion. She might not belong here, but she was here now, and she wanted to be here fully. She threw herself into the festivities, laughing, cheering for the competitions, eating everything that Reade or Elizabeth thrust into her hand.

  Elizabeth told her about Maisie, who Aidan had found under mysterious circumstances some few years ago. He had come to treat her as a daughter. There were some who suggested she was his bastard daughter, but no one close to him thought that.

  “Aidan's not the type,” Reade had said, tossing an apple into the air and catching it behind his back. “It would make more sense if they thought it of me in years past, but it wasn't me either. Our Maisie's a mystery.”

  Margaret felt a strange sort of relief from finding out that Aidan hadn't produced a bastard, especially after knowing how difficult her growing-up years had been. At the same time, something in her swelled and warmed at the idea of him taking in a defenseless child. Though she tried to tell herself that he was the laird, and such was his duty, she knew too many who woul
d have shrugged it off.

  So, I have gotten to spend some time with a good man. I cannot ask for more than that. And then tomorrow or the next day, I will go to my mother's cottage, and I will be home, and this will be over.

  It was enough to make her cry, but she figured that crying could always come after. If she had to cry later, she might as well laugh now, and Reade and Elizabeth led her to the dancing.

  The musicians were rougher than what she was used to at her father's stately parties, but she knew that they were also farmers and shepherds rather than people who could devote all their lives to music. It lent a wild vitality to their playing, and as soon as the light started to dim and the torches were lit, people swept onto the cleared section that served as a dance floor.

  At first, Margaret stayed close to Reade and Elizabeth, but in the wild circling and turnings, she soon lost them.

  That's fine, they don't need to spend all of their time looking after me. They will probably be pleased to have some time for themselves.

  Most of the dances were unpartnered, and she could dance them in a ring, oftentimes with an older married couple on one side and a ten-year-old boy on the other. Margaret laughed; she had forgotten how good it was to simply dance like this with other people, not thinking about how it might look or wondering who might be jealous, the way it always was at Maras Castle.

  I miss my father, but Heaven and saints, I do not miss England.

  She was just getting ready to sit down and take a break when she found her hand taken again, this time by a tall man with a smile and a beard.

  "Come on, one turn with me," he said.

  Margaret shrugged. There was no reason why she shouldn't, and the man looked light on his feet, not the type to stomp her underfoot.

  The man smiled at her more than strictly necessary, but he was a fine dancer. The dance they trod together was fast, and then faster and faster than that. At the end, she landed in his arms, giggling at how light-headed she had grown.

  "You are a wonderful dancer," he said. "Care to come tread another measure?"

  His low voice left little doubt as to his meaning, and Margaret was just beginning to turn him away when they were separated, and Aidan stood between them.