Hard-Hearted Highlander--A Historical Romance Novel

by Julia London

  Miss Holly had seen the blackness in him. He kept recalling the expression on her face when she’d walked in to the MacBee house and had realized she was standing on spilled blood. He’d thought she would faint, and he’d move to catch her before she fell onto the bare stone floor. When she opened her eyes, he saw the way she looked at him. She’d looked at him with pity, and it had scraped across his heart.

  He’d felt the pity when she’d kissed him, too. So unexpected, that kiss, and so bloody tender that his insides had warbled and turned into wee butterflies. He tried not to think of that kiss now, or the way her lips, warm and wet, had moved with careless abandon over his. Or the way her fingers had touched his chin, or her arm had gone around his neck, the feel of it unnervingly arousing, disturbingly comforting. He tried not to think of how her breasts had felt pressed against his side or how hard it had been not to touch her, to really touch her.

  In truth, that kiss had been surprisingly erotic, and his body had reacted accordingly, every nerve resonating with desire.

  In hindsight, it was all wretchedly disconcerting to him. Rabbie had lost his heart, but not his mind. A man did not like to be kissed with pity. There was scarcely anything worse than that—except, perhaps, the fact that he’d been so physically aroused in the place Seona had likely died. That had filled him with a terrible sense of betrayal that he could not banish.

  Rabbie did not want to see Miss Holly tonight. He did not want to be reminded of how he’d fallen, in her eyes, from his stature as a strong Highlander. He didn’t want to see any of that bloody English lot, no—but especially not her.

  There was a knock on his door. “Come,” he said.

  The door swung open and his brother walked in wearing his captain’s garb—a black coat and black pantaloons. He’d combed his hair into a neat queue, had tied it with a black ribbon. Rabbie had always considered Aulay the comeliest of the Mackenzie brothers, and in this suit of clothing, he could very well imagine the number of lassies who would swoon tonight.

  Aulay stopped in his tracks when he saw what Rabbie was wearing.

  “You donna approve,” Rabbie said, unconcerned.

  “You surprise me, lad, but I donna disapprove. I think you’re bloody brave.”

  Rabbie snorted as Aulay walked deeper into the room. “Because I wear the plaid in my father’s house? That’s hardly brave.”

  “No’ only because of the plaid—but because you’ve agreed to this marriage.”

  This was the first Aulay had mentioned Rabbie’s doom. Cailean had spoken to Rabbie about it when last he’d been at Balhaire—his oldest brother had openly struggled with his desire that Rabbie help the family, and his more brotherly instinct to protect his youngest brother. But Aulay? He’d not spoken of it at all until this very moment.

  “I didna agree as much as I was pushed into a corner,” Rabbie reminded him.

  Aulay nodded. “I canna imagine how bloody well difficult it must be.”

  “That it is,” Rabbie agreed, and looked curiously at his brother. “What would you have done in my shoes?”

  Aulay shrugged. “I donna know. I’ll never know, will I? My own fate is no’ entirely of my choosing, either. The trade is all we’ve left, and if I donna sail, who will?” He smiled wryly. “As your fate was set for you, so was mine set for me, lad. The difference between us is that I donna despair for my future. But if I didna have the sea?” He shook his head. “I donna know.”

  That was the truth of it—two brothers bound by duty to the family, one of them happy with the path, the other wretchedly unhappy. Rabbie sighed wearily. It seemed he was always sighing, as if he carried the weight of this clan on his back. He turned back to the looking glass to straighten his neck cloth.

  Aulay walked to the window and looked out. “You do this for all Mackenzies, and God thank you for it. I believe Seona would have understood.”

  Rabbie’s head came round at that. No one ever mentioned her to him. No doubt because when they did, he reacted much like he did now—his tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth and he couldn’t quite find the words to speak.

  Aulay turned from the window and locked his gaze on Rabbie. “Aye, she would have, lad. Think about that—you know better than anyone that she did all that she could to save her family, aye? She is the one who sent the bairns to safety. She would expect the same of you, she would.”

  The mass of guilt and grief swelled in Rabbie’s chest, pressing against his ribs, making him feel almost as if he couldn’t breathe. Would she approve? Would she want him to go through with this marriage to save his family? Would she have done the same?

  “Let her go, laddie,” Aulay said quietly.

  Rabbie shook his head.

  Aulay walked to where Rabbie stood and placed his hand on his shoulder. “God rest her soul, but Seona is gone, aye? You canna bring her back. You canna change what happened. You canna stop living. She’d want you to live, she would, you know that is true. It’s time you let her go and stop mourning. If you want a wee bit of her, acquaint yourself with her niece and nephew.”

  Rabbie opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  “I canna bear to watch you live the rest of your life in misery and guilt, lad. Miss Kent is a pretty little lass, and with time, she’ll make you a good wife. You could verra well enjoy the union, if only you will allow.”

  Rabbie wanted to argue that it was too late, that his misery had been sealed for him the day they’d arrived back at Balhaire and his father had met him at the cove with such abject sorrow on his face that Rabbie’s gut still churned when he thought of it.

  Aulay patted Rabbie’s cheek. “Think on it. Now come,” he said, smiling. “The bloody Sassenach have invaded.”

  * * *

  THE ENGLISH HAD arrived in their finery, seemingly oblivious to the looks of hostility as they swanned through the great hall on their way to the dais, and ignored the dogs that had come forward to sniff them.

  There was a bit of ceremony as the so-called happy couple was presented, and Rabbie stood before his clan, the lass’s tiny hand in his. There was a smattering of polite applause, but nothing like the days of old when the applause would have been thunderous, the good wishes called up to them ribald, the smiles on the faces of the people quite genuine in their happiness for a union that would benefit the Mackenzie clan.

  His clan endured it scarcely better than he.

  The feasting began after that, and Miss Kent retreated to the safety of her mother’s side. Her father and equally odious uncle fell quickly into their cups as they seemed to do at every opportunity. Catriona began to whisper in Miss Kent’s ear again, no doubt explaining now how Rabbie’s dislike of peas had stemmed from an unfortunate incident when he was six years old. He knew his sister, and he knew she would leave no tale untold, especially not with a new, impressionable audience. He’d not bothered to chastise Catriona for revealing his deepest pain to Miss Kent—he couldn’t even summon the energy to be angry about it.

  Rabbie’s mother kept glancing away from the dais, to where the remains of their clan were seated, her expression a beseeching one. She could beseech all she liked, but the Mackenzies who had survived the worst spring of their lives would never accept these Sassenach, not after so much pain and loss. Aye, they would accept that he was forced to marry one of them, but call Miss Kent their own? Never.

  Miss Holly sat next to Niall MacDonald, several seats away from Rabbie. She kept her hands folded in her lap, her back straight, her gaze fixed on something above the heads of the clan. Rabbie tried not to look at her. He tried harder not to conjure up that kiss, but he wasn’t strong enough to fight it.

  Aye, she was a bonny woman. She’d put her hair up in a fashionable way that drew his attention to the spot just behind her ear that he’d kissed. She wore a gown of dark green, the stomacher cinched so tightly that her bre
asts seemed to spill like cream from her bodice. Diah, but Rabbie didn’t want to notice her, didn’t want to think of her, and yet, he was still a man, and he could not deny that some part of him, apparently still very much alive, had been awakened by her.

  He still burned with the humiliation that she’d kissed him out of pity, with the indignation that she was English, with the impatience that she thought she could possibly understand what he’d endured. But he was also consumed with a need he’d not felt in a very long time. He’d buried that need so deeply that he’d hardly recognized it at first. But it had seen light, and he could feel it blooming in him.

  The meal had been served, and the musicians had begun to play. Aulay invited Miss Kent to dance with him, and several others stood up to dance as well. The clan was beginning to disregard the Sassenach on the dais and enjoy the evening. “We’ve needed this,” his mother said proudly into Rabbie’s ear. “Do you see, darling? We’ve all needed something to celebrate, something to look forward to.”

  He couldn’t disagree. These gatherings had once happened with great frequency. Now, the moments and reasons for celebration were quite rare.

  Again, Rabbie’s gaze strayed down the dais to Miss Holly, who was watching the dancing. She reminded him of a prim-and-proper English governess who’d been relegated to the wall to watch the dancing instead of participate. He couldn’t bear it any longer—he stood from his chair, swiped up his tankard of ale and walked down the dais. He kicked back a chair next to her and sat heavily, clapping his tankard onto the tabletop. He didn’t look at her at first, but stared blindly at the dancers. After a long moment, he turned his head and admired her regal profile. Naturally, she had not looked at him, either—they were the both of them fighting it, then.

  “Enjoying the evening, are you?” he asked.

  She glanced at him sidelong. “Not particularly. You?”

  “No’ at all,” he said, and turned his attention back to the dancing.

  “You’ve come dressed as a Scot,” she said, her voice full of curiosity.

  “I am a bloody Scot.”

  He picked up his tankard, and as he was drinking, Miss Holly said, “She doesn’t want to marry you, you know.”

  He slowly lowered his tankard. “You’re no’ even a wee bit bashful, are you?”

  “Should I be? I didn’t think you appreciated that trait.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “Allow me to explain something to you, Miss Holly. It’s a wee bit too late for your mistress’s doubts.”

  “Is it?” she asked, and looked at him directly. He noticed how dark her lashes were against her light hazel eyes. Bonny eyes, she had. Quite bonny. “And yet, you have doubts, too.”

  He sighed impatiently. What was the point of speaking of upcoming wedding now? “No, I donna have doubts. Again, it’s too late for them.”

  “You dissemble, Mr. Mackenzie. You could scarcely hold her hand.”

  He was already regretting this. He moved as if he meant to stand, but she said, “You might give her reason to cry off.”

  Now Rabbie looked at her sternly. “What nonsense are you speaking, then? The banns have been posted. The bloody wheels are in motion. Give her reason to cry off?” He gave a rueful bark of laughter.

  “You’d not be the first couple to fail to arrive at an altar after posting the banns.” She twisted in her seat to face him. “You could give her reason to cry off.”

  Rabbie frowned at her. He swiped up his ale and drank healthily, then slammed it back down. “If the lass doesna want to wed, then I’ll do the damned crying off.”

  “No!” she whispered hotly, and glanced around them to see if anyone noticed them. “You can’t possibly!”

  “Aye, I can.” Could he? No, of course not. He was resigned to his duty. He’d given his father his word. This conversation was nonsense.

  “If you cry off, she’d be ruined in England.”

  It took a moment for Rabbie to understand her meaning, and when he did, he felt a swell of anger in him so raw that he could scarcely contain his contempt for her.

  She calmly returned his gaze, clearly prepared for his contempt. “I know you must think very ill of me in this moment, but you cannot fault me for speaking the truth. Miss Kent came to Scotland to marry a Highlander, everyone knows it,” she said, speaking quickly, as if she understood she had only moments before he lost his composure completely. “If she is rejected and sent back to England, she will be ruined. No one will want to make a match with a woman who was not deemed good enough by a Scotsman, do you see?”

  “No’ deemed good enough by a bloody savage, is that it?”

  “I didn’t say I believe it is so.”

  His anger swelled. He suddenly surged forward in his seat, his face only inches from hers. “Do you believe for even a moment that I give a damn what happens to that cake-headed lass?”

  Miss Holly did not back away, and steadily held his gaze. “Yes. I do.”

  He glared at her. His eyes moved to her lips and he felt that unwanted stirring again. And for that, he despised her.

  “I know you’re not as hard-hearted as that—”

  “You donna know a bloody thing about me,” he said, and sank back in his chair, looking away from her.

  “She’s young and innocent, and I don’t believe for a moment that you would ruin her life out of spite because yours was ruined. I think you are many things, sir, but I don’t think you are cruelly spiteful. I also know that if she was to cry off...none of the Mackenzies could blame you for failing your end of the agreement.”

  The anger in him twisted. Failing his agreement? He wanted to put his fist through a wall. Toss a table across the room. “So I should spare the English lass because the English did no’ spare me, is that it, then?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly.

  Rabbie hated her, hated her reasoning, hated everything about this great room. He drummed his fingers against the table. His attention drifted to Miss Kent, who was laughing gaily as she tried some of the steps of the Scotch reel Aulay was attempting to teach her.

  As much as he couldn’t bear to admit it, Miss Holly was right. Avaline Kent was a child with no understanding or even awareness of the resentment that simmered in this room. She was utterly blind to the faces of his clan. And she was nothing to him. God knew she was nothing to him. But he couldn’t ruin her to have his revenge—it would be akin to kicking an unsuspecting wee hare off a cliff.

  There was something else Miss Holly had said that rang true—if Miss Kent was the one to end the engagement, his father could not blame him. There was still the matter of the need to join forces with the Kents—or somehow blunt the rise of the Buchanans in the Highlands—but Rabbie was so unhappy, he found himself actually considering her preposterous suggestion. He groaned, rubbed his face. “What do I have to do, then?”

  “Give her a reason, any reason.”

  “Aye, and what is that? I am no’ practiced in the art of making lassies cry off their engagement.” He looked at Miss Holly for the answer. The color in her cheeks was high, the blush of a rose in fair skin. He gripped his hand into a fist to keep his desire in check and looked away.

  “Tell her you mean to take a mistress as soon as you are wed.”

  “No,” he said instantly. “I would no’. No one would believe it.”

  “The only person who must believe it is Avaline. Don’t be so proud, sir—do you want to marry her?”

  He could feel the storm of rage in him, swirling about, ready to blow the roof off this fortress.

  “Be quite plain about it and don’t give in to her tears or trembling chin,” she said. “Avaline cries rather easily.”

  He snorted. “There is no danger of my giving in to anything.” He suddenly stood, needing to be away from the blush of Miss Holly’s skin. But he glanced d
own at her before he walked away, trying to understand her. “I wonder how it is that a woman employed to see after an innocent lass can be so cunning in her deceit of her.”

  Miss Holly’s color deepened. Her expression changed, and he had the impression he’d hurt her. “You said it yourself,” she said softly. “She is too artless. She is doing this out of a sense of duty with no notion of the anguish it might cause her for years to come.”

  Rabbie didn’t want to marry that little chit, no. But he did not like to be painted as the swine who would ruin her life, either. He walked away, off the dais, and stepped into the middle of the dancing to relieve Aulay and stand up with his fiancée.

  “Ah, here he is,” Aulay said, and looked, Rabbie thought, gratefully relieved of the duty. He handed Miss Kent to Rabbie. “Thank you, Avaline,” he said, and bowed.

  Avaline?

  “The pleasure was mine, Aulay,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  Her smile faded the moment Aulay disappeared into the crowd.

  “A reel, is it?” Rabbie asked, and began to dance, spinning her around, avoiding any conversation. Thankfully, the dance ended very soon after he’d relieved Aulay. He clasped her hand in his. “A word,” he said crisply.

  “Oh.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the dais.

  “Donna look so frightened,” he said gruffly. “I will no’ eat you.” He moved his hand to the small of her back to her hurry her along, and led her out of the great hall.

  He escorted her down the corridor to the family salon. The hearth was lit, but there was no one within. He guided her in, and instantly dropped his hand. The moment he did, Miss Kent scurried to the middle of the room, and turned to face him. She was clutching one side of her gown and shaking like a leaf. Diah, she was a mouse. He leaned back against the closed door and folded his arms across his chest, studying her. She looked scarcely older than his niece, Maira. She was scarcely older than his niece. “We are to be married,” he said stiffly.