The Highlander's Promise

by Lynsay Sands

  "Oh aye." Clearing his throat, Rory said, "First, Aulay and I came to loggerheads several times o'er his behavior around ye. He appeared to ha'e trouble remembering that the two o' ye were no' really married."

  Jetta immediately began to blush and Aulay suspected she was recalling those times in question. He certainly was now that Rory had mentioned them, and for a moment he basked in the memory of the taste of her, the sound of her excited cries, the way she'd responded to his kisses . . . and waking to find her mouth on him. That memory was particularly piquant, he thought and then grunted and looked around with surprise when someone punched him in the arm. Spotting Saidh standing next to him, scowling ferociously, he frowned and raised his eyebrows in question. His sister gave him a meaningful look and then nodded toward Jetta.

  Turning, he glanced at her and saw that she was not experiencing quite the same joy in the memories as he had been before Saidh punched him. In fact, she was bright red and nearly squirming in the bed with apparent embarrassment and what might be shame.

  Scowling, he patted her hand again and said, "Ye've naught to be ashamed o', lass. Ye believed we were married. Besides, yer innocence is still intact."

  Rather than soothe her, that made her blush deepen and she looked more distressed than ever. Aulay was relieved when Rory continued, "The other trouble it caused was with Saidh. She was most upset that we were no' telling ye the truth, and took both Aulay and me to task for it. She e'en tried to convince us to tell ye everything."

  "I did," Saidh assured her. "Unfortunately, men are stupid. At least me brothers are. They would no' listen to me."

  Jetta offered Saidh a crooked smile.

  "The fact that they're sitting here telling ye this instead o' telling ye what's most important proves it," Saidh added, turning to scowl at Aulay briefly.

  Not having a clue what she was referring to, Aulay glowered back.

  Apparently recognizing that he didn't know what she was talking about, Saidh said with exasperation, "Greer told me ye planned to tell Jetta everything after the sup and to ask her to marry ye?"

  "Oh aye," he agreed quickly and turned to Jetta, nodding his head firmly. "I planned to tell ye tonight."

  "Why?" she asked at once.

  Nonplussed, Aulay stared at her. "Why what?"

  She hesitated and then asked, "Why were you going to tell me now after so long leaving me in the dark?"

  Aulay paused to consider before answering, suspecting he was treading on uneven ground here, and then he said, "I wanted to tell ye from the first, but did no' wish to risk yer healing. However, what with someone pushing ye down the stairs and whatnot we began to worry this may ha'e something to do with yer family or who they were trying to make ye marry and it did seem ye'd be safer if ye were married, and ye had to ken ye were no' married before I could ask ye to marry me."

  "So you were going to tell me so that you could ask me to marry you, and you want to marry me to keep me safe?" she asked with a small frown.

  "Aye," Aulay said, and then glanced around when one of the women gasped. His eyebrows rose as he took in the various reactions of his family. His brothers, as well as Cam and Greer, were all nodding as if he was making perfect sense. The women, however, at least Edith, Murine and Jo, all looked horrified. But it was the reactions of Uncle Acair, Rory and Saidh that troubled him most. Rory was wincing, Uncle Acair was shaking his head and rolling his eyes skyward as if silently asking his dead brother, Aulay's father, how he had managed to raise such an idiot, and Saidh had her lips pursed and a somewhat confounded expression, as if she thought his answer made sense, but also thought it was not quite right and she could not for the life of her figure out why. That was most troubling to him. He understood ladies expected sweet words and romantic gestures, but he was not that kind of man. However, if his own sister, who was--in his estimation--as far from a romantic as could be found . . . well, if she thought his answer lacking, that was bad.

  Scratching the back of his head, he peered back at Jetta and noted her dejected pose. She was peering at her hands where they lay on her chest, and she looked disappointed. Wounded even, he thought.

  "Tell the lass how ye feel about her, ye dolt," Uncle Acair hissed.

  Aulay took a moment to scowl at the man, and then turned back to Jetta to see that she'd raised her eyes and was watching him hopefully. That was when it suddenly occurred to him that he'd never given any indication that he even had feelings for her, which he supposed wasn't fair. After all, Jetta had said how she felt about him repeatedly since waking. She'd told him she wanted him, that she felt lucky to have him to husband, even that she loved him. Of course, that had all been influenced by her belief that they were married, but that didn't make it any less true. He, however . . . well, he had not even told her he liked her, Aulay realized now. He had a vague recollection of saying she was wee and cared for in response to a comment of hers once, but other than that he'd not said one word about his own feelings for her. And it seemed to him that he probably should.

  Slipping off the bed to kneel on the floor beside it, Aulay took her hands in his and said solemnly, "Lass, I thought ye beautiful the minute I laid eyes on yer face. I've wanted ye from the minute we dragged ye out o' the ocean and onto me boat. And I decided to keep ye the minute ye saw me face and did no' flinch, weep or scream at the scar, but instead called me yer angel."

  "Did she?" Edith asked eagerly.

  "Aye," Alick said. "She said he was an angel sent by God to save her, and touched his cheek as if he were a precious gift."

  "Oh," the women sighed together.

  Ignoring them, Aulay continued, "Fer the three weeks I tended ye, I worried every minute o' every day that ye'd no' survive, and the thought distressed me something terrible. But ye did survive. Ye woke and thought me yer husband and . . ." He shook his head and then took a deep breath, let it out and said, "I do no' ken if what I feel is love. But I think o' ye all the time, even when ye're no' with me. And these days since ye've woken have been the happiest o' me life."

  When her smile widened, he added, "And not only that. I see ye everywhere, lass. Every maid I see with long black hair reminds me o' ye. Even some without hair, or well, with their hair covered," he explained and shook his head before continuing, "I worry about ye constantly too. I hated being away from ye when I had to return to Buchanan without ye. I like spending time with ye. I like playing chess with ye, and Nine Men's Morris, and I like talking to ye. I just enjoy yer company. But I like kissing and touching ye best o' all, and I'm aching to bed ye. I want ye fer me wife, lass. I want to wake every day to yer smiling face, I want to ha'e beautiful bairns with ye that we can raise together to be fine, strong men and women, and I want to live to be an old man and die in yer arms, for 'tis as close to heaven as I've ever been."

  Someone snuffled behind him, and Aulay glanced around, scowling when he saw that the women were all weeping like bairns. Christ, even Alick was weeping like a girl, but not Saidh. Her eyes were glassy, but she was manfully keeping her tears from dropping. He could always count on Saidh.

  Turning back to Jetta, he blew out a breath and said solemnly, "But I do no' want ye to marry me only fer the safety it offers. I'll keep ye safe, married or no'. But I'd rather ye only marry me if ye have soft feelings fer me too, and want to spend yer life with me the way I do you."

  "Aye," she said softly.

  Aulay hesitated, and then asked uncertainly, "Aye, what?"

  "Aye, I want to marry you for you," she said on a soft laugh, and then tugged her hands from his and framed his face with them. "Have I not already told you I love you? Mayhap at first it was because I thought you my husband, and assumed that I had loved you ere the shipwreck where I lost my memories, but I quickly came to see why I would love you. You are all I could wish for in a husband, Aulay. In truth, you are probably more than I ever dared hope for. I would consider myself lucky to be your wife, bear your bairns and die an old woman in your arms. I see a happy future with you."

&
nbsp; Aulay grinned, but hearing more sniffling behind him, asked, "Even if marrying me means ye'll be stuck with me large, nosy and interfering family?"

  Glancing past him, she grinned as she took in the people surrounding them and nodded. "Aye. Even then, husband. I mean, Aulay." Grimacing, she added, "Sorry. I am so used to calling you that, I just--"

  "Well, in truth, ye've every right to call him that, lass," Uncle Acair said now. "Ye may no' ha'e had benefit o' a priest, but yer married by habit and repute now." When she peered at him uncertainly, he explained, "Ye've lived together as a couple, ye calling him husband, and him even calling ye wife a time or two. Ye presented yerselves as a couple to society, or at least to us." He shrugged. "Ye're handfasted, which is as good as married here in Scotland. The courts would say that legally, ye are wed."

  "Oh," she murmured, but then frowned.

  Certain he knew what she was thinking, Aulay assured her, "We will have a priest marry us all good and proper though. In fact--" Turning, he glanced to Alick, who was still looking wet-eyed, and said, "Alick, go fetch--"

  "Damn! The priest," Niels said suddenly, interrupting Aulay.

  Noting his expression, Aulay narrowed his eyes. "What? Is there something wrong with Father Archibald?"

  "Not wrong exactly," Niels assured him. "But Edith wanted to have a word with him when we arrived, and Alick said--"

  "The stable master told me he rode out this morning just ere I arrived with Saidh and Greer and the chests," Alick said, interrupting Niels.

  "Damn," Aulay breathed with a frown.

  "Aye. That's how we lost Father MacKenna," Dougall reminded him grimly.

  "What?" Cam asked with confusion.

  "Our last priest was Father MacKenna," Niels explained. "But when Dougall brought Murine here and they hoped to marry, he suddenly rode off, never to be heard from again."

  "We suspect Murine's brother and cousin had something to do with it," Dougall said grimly. "They would no' ha'e wanted him to marry us and ruin their plans."

  "I'm sure this is no' the same as MacKenna," Greer said soothingly. "Archibald is fine and will return tonight or in the morn."

  "And if he does no', Drummond is no' far from here," Edith pointed out.

  "Aye." Niels smiled. "Our priest could marry ye."

  "MacDonnell is close too," Saidh added. "If we held the wedding there, ye could meet Alpin and see yer nieces."

  "Failing that there is Carmichael," Dougall put in.

  "Or Sinclair," Cam added. "We'd be pleased to host yer wedding."

  Aulay stared at them all, his heart warmed by all the offers, but panic setting into his brain at the thought of having to accept one over the others.

  "I'm thinking we should just give Father Archibald a chance to return," Uncle Acair said before Aulay could be forced to choose between the many offers. "If he does no' return tonight, we can send some men out after him first thing in the morn. If they do no' bring him back, then we'll have to consider an alternative. But at least here, we could all attend," he pointed out. "Including the people o' Buchanan she will become lady of."

  "Aye," Dougall said with a nod. "That would be best."

  "Let us hope Father Archibald returns, then," Niels murmured.

  "Aye," Uncle Acair agreed. "Now, why do we no' let these two get some rest. It has been a long day, and tomorrow may be even longer fer them if Father Archibald returns."

  No one argued. Everyone turned and made their way from the room, murmuring good-nights and sleep-wells as they went.

  Jetta watched Aulay walk the others out, her thoughts a bit confused. She was having trouble adjusting to the thought that he was not really her husband. Yet, she reminded herself, they would marry on the morrow, or as soon as they could find a priest. Still, she had thought of him as husband for . . . well, for the entire history that she could remember.

  Sighing, she gave her head a little shake. According to Uncle Acair--Jetta stopped the thought as she realized he wasn't her uncle yet. Although, maybe he was. According to Uncle Acair she and Aulay were married by something and repute. She couldn't remember what he'd said. She did remember his saying they were handfasted, considered married by law. So, Aulay was her husband after all, and these people who had treated her like family, were her family. But she'd feel better if they had a proper marriage, blessed by a priest.

  The sound of the door closing caught her ear and Jetta glanced up as Aulay turned back to the room. She bit her lip briefly, and then asked, "Do you think Father Archibald will return tomorrow?"

  "If we're lucky he will," Aulay muttered as he crossed to the bed. "I've no desire to offend anyone by choosing where to marry if he does no'."

  "Oh aye, that could be tricky, could it not?" she agreed and lowered her head to peer at her hands as she considered the problem. If they chose MacDonnell as the spot to wed--and that would be her preference since she'd like to meet her soon-to-be nieces--it might leave Niels, Dougall and even the Sinclairs offended.

  "Aye, very tricky," Aulay agreed. "I've no desire to inadvertently hurt anyone's feelings, so we shall have to hope luck is with us this time."

  Nodding, she glanced around only to frown when she did not see him anywhere in the room.

  "Unfortunately, while I hate to admit this to ye fer fear ye'll change yer mind about marrying me," he continued, his voice the only proof of his presence, "I am no' the luckiest o' men, me love."

  Following the sound of his voice, Jetta peered over the side of the bed to see him lying on a pallet there, one arm over his face. She was frowning at his words, until the last two sank in. "Me love." It was the first time he'd used an endearment when addressing her, and it made her heart melt. She enjoyed the feeling for a moment, and then scowled at the man on the floor, and said, "I do not understand how you can say that. You seem to me to be a very lucky man indeed."

  Aulay shifted his arm aside and blinked up at her in surprise. Probably partially because he didn't expect to see her there, hanging over the side of the bed above him, but also because of her words.

  "What?" he asked with disbelief. "How can ye say I'm lucky?"

  "How can you say you are not?" she countered at once.

  "Have ye seen me face?" he asked dryly.

  "Oh piffle," Jetta said, pulling back and dropping to lie on the bed with disgust.

  "What the devil does that mean?" Aulay asked, sitting up so he could see her again. When she didn't respond except to shrug, he asked, "How would ye like to walk around with a face so ugly bairns run away crying and women scream in horror when they see ye?"

  "Oh, they did not do that," she said turning to eye him with disbelief.

  "They did," he assured her bitterly.

  Frowning at this news, Jetta examined his scar more closely, and then admitted, "I suppose, at first, when the scar was still red and raw, it might have caused a stir."

  "Damned right it did," he growled resentfully. "The first year I hardly left the keep to avoid the reactions it caused."

  "And the second?" she asked.

  "It was a little better," he admitted reluctantly.

  "And no doubt it was better still the year after that," she suggested.

  He shrugged unhappily.

  Jetta considered him briefly and then asked, "Would ye really rather never have been scarred and be married to Adaira Stuart, then?"

  "Who told ye about Adaira?" Aulay asked with surprise.

  "A couple of people have mentioned her," she said evasively. "Now answer the question. Would you rather be unscarred and married to Adaira?"

  "Good God, nay," he growled. "She was no' at all the woman I thought her. I found out things about her after the betrothal was broken that . . ." He shook his head. "I made a lucky escape there."

  "Lucky?" she asked innocently.

  "Aye. Do ye ken she tried to seduce Sinclair at court?" he asked with outrage, not catching the lucky bit. "And that was ere I was ever injured. He said he refused her offer because he kenned she was bet
rothed to another, though he did no' ken it was me at the time. That was ere we knew each other so well, but I am sure there were others she offered herself to who had less honor."

  Mouth tight, he said, "And, she beat her maid. Mavis told me that after the betrothal was broken too. Beat her something fierce once, right in front o' Mavis, for merely dropping her brush. Had we married, she may ha'e tried to beat the servants here. Nay, that wench was no' the lady I had always thought her to be."

  "Hmm. A lucky escape indeed then that ye were scarred and she broke the betrothal," she murmured.

  "Aye." He nodded, and then glanced to her sharply. His eyes narrowed. "Ye're saying had I no' been scarred, I'd be married to the wench."

  "And stuck with her for a lifetime," Jetta pointed out solemnly. "I think two or three years of misery as your scar healed was a good exchange for avoiding a lifetime of misery with Lady Adaira Stuart."

  "Aye," he muttered. "When ye put it that way, mayhap I did get off lucky." Gaze softening, he added, "Especially since I now get to marry you instead."

  "Your luck was my luck as well, m'laird, for I get to have you to husband," she assured him with a smile, and then added, "and I get your very large, very loving and caring family as my own too."

  Aulay smiled crookedly at that. "They may be nosy, and interfering, but mean well."

  "Aye, and there is another example of your good luck," she assured him.

  "Mostly," he said solemnly, and she knew he was thinking of Ewan, the brother he'd lost.

  "Nay, not mostly," Jetta insisted gently. "Husband, you have six brothers and a sister who all love you and have rushed here to be of aid if they can. Just their having survived to this stage in life is lucky. Your family has lost only one of nine children. Do you not know how rare that is? Most families lose thrice that number ere their children are out of britches. But your family lost only the one and you have six brothers and one sister who are not only still healthy and well, but who love and care about you and are here when you need them," she said, and felt her eyes tear up as she said it, for she knew she had not been so lucky else her family would not have been trying to send her off to someone she wasn't even betrothed to and whom she apparently had feared would kill her. Jetta knew she would have done everything in her power to prevent a sister from such an end. Pushing that thought away, she continued, "And then you were lucky with the wound you took."