The Forbidden Highlands

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Anna dug out a stout, plain cloak from the trunk and, after tucking a few of her most essential personal items into the cloak’s pockets, she drew back the canvas covering at the back of the wagon.

  The ground looked very far away all of a sudden—and very muddy. She lowered herself to a seat on the edge of the wagon, stretching her toes toward the wet, churned path.

  Just then she heard a grunt nearby and looked up. The other men still sat in their saddles, hunched against the rain—except for Graeme. He’d dismounted and was striding toward her, his limp pronounced.

  Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and lifted her out of the wagon.

  Inhaling in surprise, Anna’s arms looped around Graeme’s neck and her fingers sank into the wet wool over his shoulders. He moved slowly, and she could feel from the tension in his neck that he was fighting against his limp. Yet she did not fear that he would drop her, for his arms were strong and solid around her.

  When they reached his waiting horse, he lifted her fully onto the animal’s back. With a soft grunt, he swung into the saddle behind her, settling her across his lap.

  As the retinue, minus Dennis, Keith, and Anna’s wagon, began its journey southward once more, Graeme leaned close to her ear.

  “Nervous?” His low voice sent a shiver down her spine.

  Anna suddenly realized that her lips were pulled into a trembling smile.

  “A-aye,” she murmured. “Because of the horse.”

  In truth, she’d hardly noticed the huge bay steed beneath her, for all she seemed to be able to take in at the moment was Graeme.

  His powerful thighs beneath her bottom.

  His strong arms looped around her, holding her close.

  His solid, warm torso, which bumped into her side with each of the horse’s steps.

  “Graeme,” she said softly, looking up at him through the heavy rain.

  His gaze dropped to hers, and behind his stone-hard green eyes, she saw a flicker of uncertainty. Of hurt. “Aye?”

  “I…I need to explain myself,” she murmured. “This isnae what ye think.”

  “Isnae it?” She saw his gaze flatten and sensed that her opportunity was slipping away.

  “Nay,” she insisted, holding his stare. “Please, just hear me out. I ken I cannae change my fate now, or yers, but at least let me explain.”

  A crack formed in his hard features as he searched her face. “Verra well,” he murmured at last. “But as ye say, it willnae change aught.”

  Even as her heart sank at his cold tone, hope budded there as well. Aye, she may not be able to heal the wounds between them completely, but at least he would understand what had happened after she’d received his missive.

  Just as she opened her mouth to explain, Jerome reined his horse from the front of the retinue to the middle where Anna rode with Graeme. Without a word, Jerome guided his horse alongside theirs, casting them a glance out of the corner of his eye.

  It appeared as though Jerome planned to monitor them for the entire ride.

  “Later,” Graeme said, so softly that it was barely a breath against her ear.

  She tilted her head in a single nod, then turned her gaze ahead to the muddy, forested road ahead, praying for time to fly until she had an opportunity to speak with Graeme—alone.

  Chapter Six

  Graeme sent up a silent prayer for time to slow to a halt.

  This moment was perfect. He only wished he was lucky enough for it to last forever.

  Anna was in his arms, her sweet scent drifting all around him even through the driving rain. Her soft curves pressed into him in all the right places. Hell, he didn’t even notice the dull ache in his right thigh beneath the lushness of her bottom.

  Just as he’d noted upon first laying eyes on her in the wagon, she was still as beautiful as he remembered. But now that he was this close to her, there were so many things his memory had glossed over since last he’d seen her.

  He’d forgotten how much he loved that pert little nose of hers, and the gentle point to her delicate chin. He knew her smile was from nerves and not genuine happiness at being in his embrace, but poor fool that he was, he would take it and be grateful all the same, for she never looked prettier than when her pink lips curved and her cheeks flushed rosily.

  He hadn’t seen her since March, nearly four months past. He’d been traveling from the Highlands to the Lowlands, for his cousin Colin had urged him to join the Bruce’s siege on Berwick castle that was to take place in April. He’d stolen a kiss from Anna before he’d left, assuring her that he would write as soon as the siege was over to confirm that he was well.

  But then that bloody arrow had pierced his thigh, and the fever and his slow recovery had laid him low.

  It had been May before he’d written to her, eager despite his scar and limp to spread his heart at her feet and claim her as his bride.

  And then he’d gotten a month and a half of silence, followed by the announcement of her engagement.

  Graeme shoved the dark thoughts aside, trying to cling a little longer to this perfect moment with Anna.

  Soon enough, they’d stop for the night, and then she would explain all the reasons she didn’t want him anymore—the injury that made him limp, the unsightly scar that she would no doubt be repulsed by, his lack of position within his clan, the fact that he was a MacKay instead of a Munro, and on and on.

  Afterward, his final delusions that there was still something between them would be good and crushed. But until then, she was soft and warm in his arms. The tail end of her golden plait poked out from beneath her cloak’s hood, brushing against his arm. She’d leaned back against him a few hours past, her head resting on his shoulder.

  God, why couldn’t this ride last forever?

  But all too quickly, the gray, stormy sky overhead began to darken to lead, then charcoal.

  Next to them, Jerome spurred his horse to the front of the group and threw up a fist, signaling that they would stop for the night.

  When they drew their animals to a halt a little way off the path, Jerome dismounted and went to Graeme’s horse. He brusquely lifted Anna down from Graeme’s arms and guided her by the elbow under a large tree that provided shelter from the rain.

  Graeme dismounted slowly, suddenly feeling all the aches and pains from so many long hours in the saddle. In silence, he and the others tended to their horses, then began to make a rudimentary camp. They build a fire in front of the tree under which Anna stood and began passing around old biscuits and dried venison.

  “Even with the wagon slowing us down those first few days,” Jerome said once the men were settled, “we can move faster now that we are all on horseback.”

  Jerome’s gaze flicked to Anna, and Graeme felt his jaw tighten. He thought he was blunt to the point of being rude, but Jerome far outdid him when it came to ignoring tact in favor of directness.

  “I’d estimate we are only three days from Sweetheart Abbey,” Jerome went on. “Laird Munro will be pleased.”

  Graeme stiffened. “Sweetheart Abbey?” he blurted without thinking. “I thought we were going to Lochmaben.”

  Jerome turned cool eyes on Graeme. “Laird Munro wishes for the ceremony to take place as soon as Lady Anna arrives. He instructed me to escort her directly to Sweetheart Abbey, no’ far from Lochmaben, so that he could easily go directly from his meetings with the King to his wedding.”

  Shite. Graeme hadn’t realized he was literally delivering Anna straight to her wedding—and into the arms of another man. For some reason he thought he’d have more time if he was taking her to Lochmaben instead.

  But more time for what? He silently berated himself for his foolishness. It wasn’t as if he could stop the wedding, or convince her not to go through with it. She didn’t want him. In fact, she was about to tell him as much, if he could figure out a way to get a moment alone with her.

  As the others settled around the fire, Graeme’s gaze kept tugging to Anna, who stood with her arm
s wrapped around herself as she stared into the flames. Yet he felt Jerome’s hard eyes on him, no doubt watching to ensure that Graeme didn’t try to get closer to Anna.

  But even Jerome had to heed nature’s call eventually. As the other men began wrapping themselves in their plaids and hunkering down against the wet ground, Jerome rose and made his way into the underbrush for privacy.

  Steeling himself with a breath, Graeme stalked around the fire until he stood before Anna. As Colin had said, it was best to get this over with once and for all. Then mayhap the hole in his heart could begin to heal.

  “Well, lass,” he said, his voice coming out gruff. “Ye wished to say yer piece, so have at it.”

  She looked up at him and their gazes locked. Suddenly he was drowning in the perfect blue of her eyes. They swallowed him like a deep Highland loch, and all at once he felt like he might as well be trying to breathe underwater.

  “I tried to write back to ye,” she blurted. “But my father wouldnae let me send my missive. He told everyone in the keep no’ to help me deliver it.”

  Her hand fluttered up to her heart in the same gesture she’d first made when he’d yanked back the canvas on the wagon.

  Graeme felt his brows lower. Why would Laird Ross forbid her from sending a response to his missive? Unless…unless the Laird knew what was in Anna’s heart but could not allow it for the sake of the clan.

  His heart suddenly leapt against his ribs, but Graeme would not let himself hope. Not yet, anyway.

  “Why wouldnae he let ye respond?” he asked cautiously.

  “Because the very day yer missive arrived, he informed me that he wished to begin talks with Laird Munro about a marriage alliance between our clans.”

  So she hadn’t been repulsed by the thought of his injured leg, or the fact that he was less of a warrior now that he would likely bear a limp for the rest of his life. The air whooshed from Graeme’s lungs.

  Nay, he was jumping ahead of himself. She hadn’t said what her answer to his proposal would have been.

  “My father told me that our courtship had to end for the good of the clan. He said it was my duty to our people to secure this alliance with the Munros. He believed that if I wrote to ye, it would only make matters more painful for both of us, and that it would be a kindness to ye to cut things off cleanly.”

  Graeme hardly thought leaving a marriage proposal unanswered was considered a clean break, but then again, a new realization struck. Mayhap Laird Ross hadn’t known the contents of Graeme’s missive, in which case, he wouldn’t have been aware of Graeme’s proposal.

  Graeme had always gotten the impression that Laird Ross had tolerated Graeme’s courtship of Anna because he thought it little more than an innocent dalliance. It seemed he’d already decided that his only daughter could never marry a MacKay, but until such time as he arranged her marriage alliance, Laird Ross could be permitted to indulge his beloved child’s happiness.

  But it had always been so much more than that to Graeme.

  From the moment he’d laid eyes on her at a Highland fair two years past, he’d known Anna was the only lass for him. He’d nearly killed himself during the caber toss and hammer throwing events in an attempt to catch her eye. And when she’d finally noticed him, he’d kissed her hand and vowed to remain at her side for the rest of the festivities.

  And he had. A fortnight later, when the fair ended and the various clans scattered to their corners of the Highlands once more, he’d kissed her, this time on her sweet mouth, and promised to send her missives regularly, and visit when he could.

  As a warrior in Robert the Bruce’s army, his time was usually not his own, but whenever he was in the Highlands, or passing by the Ross keep on his way to the Lowlands, the two met for as long as they could spare.

  Even before his injury had made him realize the depth of his love for Anna, he had always planned to propose to her, clan tensions and his own lack of position and power be damned. When two people loved each other so deeply, he’d believed, all that could be overcome.

  He’d been wrong, of course. Even if Anna was now telling him what his heart longed to hear—that she’d still wanted him after receiving the news of his injury, that it had been her father and not her who had wished for the union with Laird Munro—as she had said, it changed naught.

  Who was Graeme to destroy an alliance between two powerful Highland Lairds, especially at such a delicate and important time for Robert the Bruce’s mission to unite all of Scotland against England?

  “Mayhap yer father was right,” Graeme said wearily. “Mayhap it is better this way. We couldnae be together, no’ with our clans so uneasy with each other.”

  Anna’s eyes clouded with tears, but she did not break their gaze. “I ken that,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “But I still believe ye have a right to hear the truth. I still love ye, Graeme MacKay. I never stopped.”

  Graeme’s breath stuck in his throat as he gazed down at her. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear, and yet it felt as though his heart was being torn in two for the second time in as many months. What good was love when he was forbidden from seizing it?

  “I did write back to ye,” she breathed, once again bringing her hand to her heart. He thought he heard the faint crinkle of parchment, but he couldn’t make sense of why the noise would be coming from the bodice of her dress.

  “Even though my father wouldnae let me send it, I replied to yer proposal,” she went on, her eyes holding him transfixed. “My answer was—”

  Just then a rustling off to the right had Graeme’s head whipping around. Without thinking, he put himself in front of Anna, using his body to shield her.

  “Is that ye, Jerome?” Graeme said loudly, causing some of the guards to stir from their rest.

  “Nay.” Jerome stepped from the underbrush a stone’s throw farther to the right than the noise. He looked around warily, for he must have heard the rustling as well.

  Another soft rasp of leaves and branches sounded to the left. Just as a knot of dread tightened in Graeme’s stomach, Jerome’s eyes widened.

  “Ambush!” Jerome bellowed, yanking his sword free of the sheath on his hip.

  The guards sprang from the ground at the same moment that more than a dozen men burst from the trees surrounding them, weapons already bared. The Munros and Rosses barely had time to draw their swords before their attackers fell upon them. The night air exploded with metallic clangs and battle cries.

  Graeme jerked his sword from its sheath, wrapping one arm behind him to hold Anna to his back.

  “Stay close!” he roared over the sudden cacophony of battle.

  Graeme met an oncoming ambusher, blocking the man’s blade from cleaving him in two. He sidestepped but fumbled as his weight came down on his bad leg.

  Barely regaining his footing before his attacker’s blade could pierce his flesh, he blocked again, then turned the defensive maneuver into an attack. He slid his blade along his enemy’s, binding it with a twist of his wrist so that he deflected the point of his opponent’s weapon away from him and drove his sword into the man’s chest.

  With a scream, the man crumpled to the forest floor, but as soon as he fell, another bandit took his place.

  Graeme backed up, pushing Anna backward and trying to buy himself time. His leg screamed in protest at him, making his steps sluggish and awkward. His new attacker’s eyes dropped to Graeme’s right leg as if realizing Graeme’s weakness and his own advantage. A slow smile curled the man’s lips as he advanced on Graeme.

  Nay.

  Graeme’s stomach spiked with hot panic.

  Because of his injury, he would not be able to protect Anna.

  His greatest fear had come true.

  Chapter Seven

  Holding his sword before them both, Graeme reached back and grabbed Anna by the arm. He shoved her hard.

  “Get to my horse!” he shouted above the fray.

  Anna’s mind was so flooded with fear that she coul
d do naught but obey. She bolted to where the animals were tethered in the trees. The horses sidestepped wildly, their eyes rolling and their ears pulling back as the battle raged all around.

  A new terror washed over her as she approached Graeme’s bay. What if she were trampled to death by the frightened beasts?

  “Saddle and bridle him!” Graeme’s voice sliced through her panic. He was still backing up toward her, deflecting his attacker’s blows with his sword. As he shoved his opponent away, he darted a glance at her over his shoulder. “Now, Anna!”

  There was no time to hesitate, no time to let her fears take over.

  She grabbed the nearest saddle and hefted it up with a grunt. She was barely able to hoist it over the enormous bay’s high back, but the fear surging in her veins gave her added strength. With a nonsensical murmured word to soothe the horse, she bent and buckled the saddle under its belly.

  The clang of Graeme’s sword against his enemy’s was growing louder. As Anna fumbled with the bridle, she dared a look in his direction. He was only a few paces away now, though he seemed to be fighting on his heels, defensively batting away his attacker’s advances.

  Fingers trembling, Anna secured the bridle on the horse’s head and looped the reins over his neck.

  With a sudden surge of strength and speed, Graeme went on the offensive, slashing out against his enemy. In two strokes, he’d overpowered the bandit, delivering a deadly slice across the man’s neck.

  Graeme spun and bolted toward her as fast as his limp would allow.

  “Grab hold of the pommel,” he ordered.

  Anna wrapped both hands around the saddle’s pommel. One of Graeme’s big, rough palms was suddenly under her bottom, pushing her with great force up and onto the saddle.

  His sword still drawn and dripping with blood, Graeme swung up behind her.

  “MacKay!” Jerome’s bellow cut through the chaos and roar of the battle.

  Anna’s gaze landed on Jerome, who stood in the middle of the melee. He, too, held a bloodied sword, and several of the bandits’ bodies lay sprawled around him.