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Beyond A Highland Whisper

Page 16

by Maeve Greyson


  Regret swelled in her throat like a lump of rising dough. She’d unintentionally wounded his Highlander pride. “Latharn, I didn’t mean that I thought you weren’t smart. It’s just that most men from your era, most lairds, didn’t know how to read.” Nessa tapped on the thick sheaf of papers. “Especially not legal documents like those.”

  “My mother ensured we all knew how to read. She understood the power of the written word.” Latharn flipped back another page, his shoulders still held stiff as he resumed his reading.

  “What sort of trust?” Nessa asked. She had to change the subject. Men were so sensitive. She’d never hurt him for anything in the world. Leaning over his shoulder, she looked over the papers in his hand. They appeared to include the deed to some land.

  Fiona emerged from the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee and inclined her head toward the papers Latharn held. “MacKay Castle and all the surrounding lands have been kept ready for Latharn’s return. His father proclaimed it so centuries ago, when his mother found the way to break the curse.”

  Fiona made her way around the table and refilled everyone’s cups. With a proud smile, she gave Latharn a gracious nod of her head and hastened to add. “Latharn will now be the first real laird of clan MacKay since the Battle of Culloden.”

  “These look to be in order. Ye’ve done well, Brodie. Surely, you and Fiona will come and live with us at the keep?” Latharn grimaced as he tasted the coffee. He preferred mulled wine or ale.

  “Us?” Nessa repeated. “As in you and me?”

  Latharn’s smile disappeared and he pulled her closer, hugging her to his side. Cradling her chin in the palm of his hand, he held her in his gaze. “Aye, us. We’ll be married with the next full moon and we’ll move into the castle as man and wife.”

  “Married on the next full moon? Now wait just a minute. What are you talking about? I can’t think…could you please stop touching me for just a minute. I can’t think when you’re touching me! I need some space.” She pulled her face out of his hand and backed a few feet away. “You haven’t even asked me, and all we really know about each other is that we’re good together in…there.” Nessa waved in the direction of the bedroom. “Why do we have to talk about this now? Why don’t we clear this up, um, later?” Married? She hadn’t thought anything about married. She hadn’t thought past the mindless bliss of his arms. She wasn’t ready for reality. Breathe, Nessa. Got to remember. Breathe.

  Latharn rose from his seat so fast, he knocked the chair halfway across the room. He closed the space between them and grabbed her by the shoulders. He searched her face as he spoke. “That we’re good in there, as ye call it, barely begins to scratch the surface of the bond you and I share. I’ve been walking your dreams for ten long years. I searched for your soul eons longer. Now that the curse has been broken, it’s time for us to live as one. And as for me asking ye to be my wife, have ye not been listening to me for the past three days, for the past six hundred years?”

  Nessa shrugged his hands off her shoulders. The more he talked, the wilder her emotions churned. “We haven’t done much talking these past three days. Maybe I just didn’t hear what you were saying.”

  Latharn stared at Nessa in open-mouthed amazement, then rolled his eyes to the ceiling. With an exasperated growl, he threw his hands in the air and turned to shout at Brodie. “Are all the women of this century so stubborn? How do ye ever get anything done?”

  Brodie risked a glance at the threatening look on Fiona’s face and backed away with a shake of his head. “I am not saying a word. Trish already has the only couch we have. If I lose my bed, I’m out on the floor.”

  Latharn scrubbed his face with a rumbling groan. He’d waited nearly six hundred years for this woman. He’d traveled the hallways of her mind, soothing her in her dreams. He thought she loved him. She had freed him with her love. What held the woman back? He dropped to one knee and spread his hands, searching her eyes for the love and commitment he knew she held in her heart.

  “Nessa Buchanan, I am asking ye now. I am begging ye to make my life complete. Would ye do me the honor of becoming my wife and spend the rest of your days by my side?”

  Nessa bit her lip, hand to her throat, staring down into his eyes.

  “Say yes for Christ’s sake!” Trish shouted from across the room.

  Nessa ignored Trish and with a hesitating touch, reached out to cup Latharn’s face between her trembling hands. “Latharn. You’ve got to know how much I love you.”

  Latharn sensed a hint of uncertainty in her voice. His hands tightened about her waist. “I don’t like the tone ye’ve suddenly taken, Nessa. Surely, ye canna mean to refuse me?”

  Nessa shook her head. She glanced around the room at all the shocked faces turned in her direction. “I’m not refusing. I’m just not saying yes. At least, not right now.”

  Latharn took a deep breath as he rose from his knees to clutch Nessa by the shoulders. Searching her face for some kind of explanation for her reasoning, Latharn struggled to keep from shouting in her face. “Why? I’ve waited forever to be with ye. Ye say ye love me and yet ye willna agree to be my wife? Give me one good reason why ye will not join with me! Help me to understand why ye cast me aside, Nessa.”

  Nessa’s hands fluttered upon his chest as she tried to explain. “I know you’ve been in my dreams since I was barely eighteen. But you never spoke to me. We never talked to each other. Don’t you think it would be better if we waited a few months and got to know each other before we do something as serious as getting married?”

  “Get to know each other better?” Latharn roared. Releasing Nessa’s shoulders, Latharn whirled to stomp about the room. Had she gone mad? Was he going to have to lock her in the bedroom until she’d listen to reason? “We will have plenty of time to get to know each other once we’re man and wife.”

  He stormed about the room as though he were a caged animal. Latharn’s frustration crackled like electricity in the air. “If we were wed in the year 1410, we might not have even met until our wedding day.”

  Nessa shouted to be heard above the rising wind and rumbling thunder rattling the parlor windows. “This isn’t the year 1410 and I’m not going to marry someone first and get to know them later. I grew up in a household where my parents hated each other before they died and they dated for years before they married. Neither of them would give in and ask the other for a divorce. Their marriage turned into some sort of sick contest to see which one of them could make the other more miserable.”

  Latharn stopped his pacing and grabbed Trish by the arm. He pulled her across the room until she stood nose to nose with Nessa. Jerking his head toward Nessa, he looked at Trish and pleaded, “Would ye be so kind as to talk some sense into her head? There is no reasoning with this woman. Tell her that she and I are not going to end up like her miserable parents. Those two misbegotten human beings wouldn’t know what love was if it bit them on the arse.”

  Before Trish could speak, Nessa pushed around her; she locked on Latharn with a challenging glare. “You’ve proven my point, you see? Any time we don’t agree, then I’m the one who’s being unreasonable. Did it ever occur to you to try to understand what I’m saying? Don’t you realize how much the world has changed since 1410?”

  Latharn clenched his fists and ground his teeth in frustration. He stood silent as every fiber of his being raged. He’d never imagined she’d refuse him; he never dreamed she’d deny their bond. “I would ask that ye spend six hundred years imprisoned, locked away from all ye’ve ever known and loved. I would ask ye to watch while the one ye love is held by another and there’s nothing ye can do but close your eyes and try to block the memory that’s seared upon your mind.”

  His breath ragged, heart hammering, Latharn took a step closer. He yanked Nessa into his arms and his voice dropped to a pain-filled whisper as he searched her face. “Nay. I’ve loved ye for an eternity, so I could never ask ye to suffer such a fate. All I ask of ye now is that ye love me, and I plead
with ye to be my wife.”

  “Handfasting!” Fiona shouted from across the room. “Pledge your love for a year and a day, turn to the auld ways to settle this discord.”

  Brodie shook his head as he pulled Fiona closer, his voice hushed with disappointment. “Handfasting is no longer legal in Scotland. They abolished the ritual a few years ago.”

  Fiona pulled away from Brodie and grabbed Latharn and Nessa by each of their arms. “What does it matter what the laws of today say? Ye will perform the rite at midnight in the light of the full moon, before the Auld One to witness. Then if after the allotted time of a year and a day, ye should find the match was ill-advised, each of ye can go your separate ways, with no legal ties to bind ye. But if ye find your love has grown even stronger, then ye can bind yourselves with a ceremony sanctified by man.”

  Latharn still held Nessa crushed to his chest. His voice a hoarse whisper, the pain in his eyes begged her to listen to the possibilities the solution held. “Would ye be willing to do this, my love? What Fiona suggests?” He held his breath, waiting for Nessa’s answer.

  Latharn’s heart pounded against Nessa’s chest as he waited for her reply. With a sudden jolt of clarity, she gasped when she realized his heart pumped in complete sync with her own. It was a sign. Although she’d never been a believer in such things, a lot had happened over the past few weeks to turn her mind around. The synchronized beating of both their hearts convinced her they were already one.

  “Yes,” she whispered into his chest. “We’ll start out with a year and a day.” His warm chest rumbled beneath her cheek, the beat of his heart hammered a bit faster. “But I’ve got a sneaking suspicion we’ll end up being together quite a bit longer.”

  With a shaking breath, Latharn lowered his head and sought her mouth with his. Raising his head, he glanced back in the direction of the bedroom, with a meaningful glint in his eye.

  “Oh, no you don’t! I need to get some clothes out of there. You two can just cool it for a little while.” Trish smacked her hand on Latharn’s shoulder and pulled Nessa into a hug of her own.

  Brodie clapped Latharn on the back as Fiona scurried back into the kitchen praising the saints in the heavens. “Thank the heavens I married a woman who never knows when to keep quiet. Fiona always speaks her mind.”

  Latharn agreed as he grasped Brodie’s arm. “Aye, cousin. I was beginning to fear my chance at a future was about to become another curse.”

  A smug look on her face as she returned through the swinging kitchen doors, Fiona passed out tumblers of scotch to toast the joining of the two. “I think we should all go out to dinner tonight to celebrate the couple’s happy decision.”

  Nessa curled her toes as she whiffed the strong spirits. Eying Latharn over the rim of her glass, the reality of his bare-chested attire suddenly struck her. “First, I think we’d better concentrate on getting Latharn a wardrobe that will help him blend into this century.”

  With the drink tray balanced on one hip, Fiona turned, her eyes skimming over Latharn’s muscular chest barely covered with his plaid. “Aye. Ye’re right. The problem is that Brodie’s not as large as Cousin Latharn and canna even loan him anything to wear to the shops.”

  Brodie circled Latharn and looked him up and down. “One of Da’s kilts might fit him. We might even still have one of his tunics in one of the chests in the attic. Da was a mountain of a man as well, although he wasna nearly so tall.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Latharn yawned in apparent boredom with the current conversation. He sported a mischievous grin as he slowly spun around. “How is this?” he asked, spreading his hands wide. Latharn had clad his body in a skintight black T-shirt, a crotch-hugging pair of designer jeans, and a pair of fine Italian leather boots.

  Trish whistled at the way Latharn filled said jeans and nudged Nessa in the ribs. “I can’t believe you came out of that bedroom at all. Who needs food with that around?”

  Brodie cleared his throat and coughed a bit. “Ye might want to choose something a bit more conservative when we go out tonight to dine. At least something that doesna make the rest of us look quite so dumpy. Eh, give us a break, Cousin?”

  With a grin at Brodie’s irritation, Latharn once more waved his hands. His clothing changed to a less fitted fisherman’s sweater and a pair of crisp khaki pants.

  Nessa pinpointed Latharn’s problem. Her lust engines kicked into overdrive as he paraded around the room. No matter the style of dress Latharn chose, it was a certainty he was going to turn heads. He exuded power, pure unadulterated strength, and an undeniable charm. He was the type of man women followed with their eyes, then plotted to find a way to meet. And he belonged to her.

  “Go back to the jeans. Nessa and I really liked the jeans,” Trish instructed with a decisive nod.

  “Trish! He’s not a Barbie doll,” Nessa retorted, elbowing her friend in the ribs.

  “Well, he’s damn sure no Ken.” Trish cast a ribald wink at Nessa as she tossed down the rest of her scotch.

  “Do ye always have this effect on women?” Brodie heaved a great sigh as he steered Latharn toward the outer door.

  “How do ye think I ended up in that ball?” Latharn replied with a jerk of his head.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  All the people who mattered gathered around the table. Her friends and future family surrounded her. Finally betrothed to the man of her dreams, Nessa sighed with contentment. Life just didn’t get any better than this. She’d been drawn to Scotland, some would say obsessed, for the better part of her life. Now she knew why. The land of her heart and the birthplace of her love, she’d been drawn here because she belonged. She’d never dreamed she’d ever be this happy.

  With a disappointed jolt, Nessa decided her happiness was too tempting for the demons of discord to ignore. Their icy fingers tightened around her throat as trouble walked through the door. Nessa elbowed Trish and nodded to the archway where the hostess chatted to none other than Gabriel Burns. Cowering at his side trembled a mere slip of a woman stealing glances about the room.

  “Just ignore him, Nessa. Maybe he won’t see you,” Trish instructed under her breath. Trish smiled and talked behind her glass as Latharn cast a curious glance at her and Nessa in the middle of his conversation with Brodie. No sooner had the words left Trish’s lips then Nessa heard Gabriel’s voice boom across the room.

  “Nessa! Trish! It’s good to see ye. Ye’ve not been back to the pub in ages.” Gabriel ignored the meek woman scurrying behind him and headed straight for their table.

  Latharn dropped his conversation to Brodie and rested a possessive hand across Nessa’s wrist. His eyes narrowed to piercing slits as he honed in on his prey.

  “Hello, Gabriel.” Attempting to keep her tone as cool as possible, Nessa forced her politest smile across her face. Surely, he’d take the hint and leave. No one could be that dense. “Who’s your friend?” Nessa leaned around and softened her smile in the direction of the quiet woman’s downcast face. Her heart went out to Gabriel’s latest victim.

  Gabriel’s eyes never left Nessa’s face as he shrugged a shoulder in the woman’s direction. “Oh, that’s just Maery. We’re old friends, she and I. Maery, this is Nessa Buchanan.”

  A shadow of a smile flickered across Maery’s face and she ducked her head to each person at the table. She held her chin slightly tucked, as though afraid to speak. Nessa clenched her hands in her lap. Poor Maery. Nessa knew exactly why.

  Latharn rose, flexing his muscles to ensure Gabriel received the full effect. He looked at Maery with one of his warmest smiles and bent his head in her direction.

  “’Tis good to meet ye, Maery. My name is Latharn MacKay. I am Nessa’s betrothed.”

  “Betrothed?” Gabriel spit out the word as though it tasted bad in his mouth. “Did you just say you are Nessa’s betrothed?”

  “I did. Nessa and I are to be joined upon the next full moon. She has gifted me with the rest of her life. A gift I am most grateful to acce
pt. I will also be most happy to accept your congratulations.” With a triumphant leer, Latharn waited, as if praying for Gabriel to make a stupid move. Latharn’s hands clenched, and Nessa reached out and touched his arm, afraid of what ran through her beloved’s mind.

  Gabriel’s face purpled; his lips trembled as he shook beneath Latharn’s stare. Gabriel flexed his fists, swallowed hard, and with a jerk, finally extended his hand. With a curt nod of his head, he growled his words through gritted teeth. “Then I must congratulate ye, Latharn MacKay. It would seem the MacKays always get the finest women in the end.”

  Latharn held off long enough for everyone at the table to start shifting in their seats. Then he reached out and crushed Gabriel’s hand in his own, squeezing his own unspoken fury into his grasp. “Thank ye. Now if ye’ll excuse us, we’ll be getting back to our private celebration. Don’t let us keep ye from your own plans.”

  Gabriel’s face darkened further at the obvious dismissal. He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. He grabbed Maery’s arm and spun on his heel, but not before looking Nessa square in the eye. “Good luck to ye, Nessa. If ye should ever need me, ye know where I can be found. I promise ye, I willna forget what could’ve been between the two of us, you and I.”

  His words laced with unspoken meaning, Gabriel pulled the stumbling Maery from the room. Nessa shivered, rubbing the tingling skin at the back of her neck as Gabriel stormed out between the tables.

  “There is a darkness about that one.” Latharn leaned closer to Brodie. “Did ye notice? Can ye sense it?”

  Brodie’s hand tightened around his glass. “I’ve always sensed evil around that one.”

  “No.” Latharn shook his head. “Now ye’re feeling your hatred. Ye must concentrate, Brodie, and listen with your senses not your rage.”

  Nessa flinched as Gabriel’s roar and slamming doors echoed from the outer cloakroom. Chill bumps rippled down her spine.

 

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