Her Highlander's Heartl (Highlanders 0f Cadney Book 2)

by Fiona Faris

  “Ahh, the prodigal son returns. Nathan. I trust ye are well?” Nathan turned to see his uncle, William Mackenzie moving into the room. The man’s shoulder length black hair, much like Nathan’s own, except laced throughout with the silver and grey showing his age, was loose

  “Aye, Uncle. Well indeed. I hope I dinnae disturb yer sleep?” His uncle’s eyes were rimmed in dark circles, and Nathan swore in places on the man’s face where skin had once been smooth, deep lines now threatened to take over. He didn’t look well.

  “Och, I dinnae sleep anymore. Sit lad, we have much to discuss.” Nathan took the chair behind his father’s desk, leaving his da’s chair empty. Where William was, his father soon followed. The brothers were thick as thieves. “Where is Da?”

  His uncle took the chair behind his father’s desk, and looked at Nathan with vacant, sad eyes. The small round pit that had formed in Nathan’s stomach when he saw the darkened guard towers, now grew to the size of cannonball.

  An anguished grunt was the only sound Nathan was able to produce as he placed his head in his hands.

  “Six months ago, there abouts. The Battle of Dunkeld, nae one kens for sure,” William continued. “We lost a good many good fighters when the Jacobites took up against th’ English. A good many men. Th’ ones that made it out started tae return only three months back, and worse for it. Naeone kens when it was they saw yer da fall, but Magnus MacGille and some of his men brought back his body. We gave him a proper burial, even though he wasnae able tae bring back his own Laird’s.”

  Nathan heard every word his uncle was saying, but nothing was sinking in. He stood and turned to leave. He needed to get out of the tight room, needed to move, to think, anything but face the reality before him. His da was dead. He shouldn’t have been abroad. Nathan should’ve been at the fight alongside his da. He could’ve stopped it.

  “There was naethin’ ye could’ve done, lad,” William said, reading Nathan’s thoughts. “Yer da was proud of ye. He wouldnae hae wanted tae see ye in a battle like that. It’s what ye dae now th’ matters.”

  “He’s dead, Uncle,” Nathan said, turning toward the door.

  “An’ where dae ye think yer goin’, lad?”

  “I have to tend to my horse.”

  “There is more ye need tae ken. Sit, lad! Ye are the heir, the presumed Laird of Clan Mackenzie, no that ye’ve returned. Elias will be forced tae step down, but he willnae be pleased. And takin’ over ‘tisn’t as easy as signin’ a piece of parchment.”

  “Elias is back?”

  “Aye, just this past month. He heard of yer da’s death and has come back tae make his claim. He’s been actin’ in yer place. The council allowed it, only until ye returned, unless ye can’t make a viable claim.”

  “I don’t want it, Uncle! You can take it from Elias, ye will be a fine Laird!” Nathan shot back. He was trying to keep his grief down, but the shock of losing his father, the guilt, the rage was bubbling to the surface.

  “Och, boy!” William shouted. “Ye ken I cannae be Laird. I’m old, I cannae marry and give the clan an heir. Rules are rules. I ken ye are filled with shock an’ grief. Mayhap I shouldnae’ve told ye this way, but ye are tae be Laird. Will ye turn yer back on yer kin, lad?”

  “I’ve never wanted this, Uncle!” He ran his hands up and down his cheeks and into his jet-black hair. He disliked arguing with his uncle, but the information was coming at him too fast. He wasn’t ready. He needed more time.

  “Aye, but I also ken, when the time came tae step into your birthright ye would do what is right.”

  “I cannae,” he said, defeat quieting his tone. “And if I refuse?”

  “Then yer cousin will be successful in his claim, and as much as it pains me tae say, there will be little the council could dae about it. The MacKenzie clan will be destroyed,” his uncle said calmly with the sadness returning to his eyes. Nathan sat back down with what remained him of the fight leaving him in a rush of air as he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

  “He has no claim.”

  “He has men, clansmen who will help him. Not many, but enough. He’s been acting as Laird for the last month. If he marries a Highland born lady, there will be naught the council can dae.”

  “Why was I not informed!? Can’t we change the rules? Surely the council will agree tae prevent Elias from becoming Laird?”

  “For God’s sake Nathan, it’s been discussed! But he has enough support to stop it from happening. Ye have support tae, lad, a slight bit more than Elias because of yer da! But ye need tae stand up. Ye need tae find a bride. Ye need tae do it fast.”

  “Uncle, why fight Elias? Why dae ye not want yer own son tae be Laird?” Nathan knew Elias had a dark heart. He trusted that his uncle’s assessment of his cousin was true, and if Elias rose to Laird it would signal the end of the Mackenzie clan as they knew it. But he needed to hear it from the old man’s lips himself. William was the closest thing Nathan had to a father now, and he needed to trust that if he were to stand up for his clan, he had the man’s full backing and support. Asking his uncle to turn his back on Elias, his only son, wasn’t something that Nathan could bring himself to do. It needed to come from William, on his own.

  “Ye ken as well as I dae lad, we lost Elias when his mother died. It pains me deeper than ye’ll ever ken tae say it, but my son is a traitor to his people. The man he has become is nae good for the MacKenzies and is nae good for Scotland,” William said, a single tear falling down the stoic man’s cheek. “Ye are our only hope, boy.”

  Nathan collapsed to his knees in front of his uncle, taking his head into his hands; no longer able to stand with the weight of his grief, and his clan resting firmly on his shoulders. This wasn’t the homecoming he had expected. His father was gone. He had no choice, for the sake of his people and in the memory of his da. Nathan would have to do whatever necessary to secure the Lairdship of the MacKenzie clan.

  “Aye, Uncle,” he said, his voice filled with gravel and guilt. Had he only been there, he could have prevented all of this; his father’s death, Elias, all of it. The weight of his own selfishness came crashing down around him. He looked up at his uncle, his pewter gaze heavy. “Tis the only way, but how?”

  Chapter Two

  January 1690, MacKenzie Castle, Scotland

  Milly had been sitting in the library of MacKenzie castle for the better part of an hour and if the old man ever decided to greet his neighbor and ally, she had half a head to give him a piece of her mind. She tossed her auburn hair behind her back and huffed, disappointed with the empty room. She was significantly less effective without an audience to see her indignation. Nevertheless, she felt it. Thomas was her clansman and the MacKenzie had no right to keep him away from his family and clan, locked up on some trumped-up charge. And poor Violet, beside herself with worry. Milly was sure there must have been some kind of misunderstanding. Surely Lucas had informed Laird MacKenzie of the trouble Edina had caused at Cadney, and he would know better than to believe a word out of her mouth.

  Lucas had no idea she’d come to see the MacKenzie. Her brother was busy with his new wife. Ella was heavy with child, and still healing from her wounds at the hand of a sadistic English commander. After the shock of almost losing his wife and child, Milly didn’t want to bother him with something she could easily handle herself. Old-man MacKenzie had always loved her as if she were his own child, which made her the perfect person to come speak on Thomas’ behalf. After all, she thought fondly of the old man, herself. When she was just a wee child, he would visit her own grandfather. He always treated her kindly, said she was a wood nymph, sent to entertain him with her antics. He always had a sweet cake or other treat in his cloak for her. She was sure with some pleasant conversation, and a stern talking to, she could have this whole unfortunate issue cleared up and Thomas on his way back to Violet in no time.

  Looking around the room, it was as familiar as she remembered from her youth. She moved to stand by the win
dow, the MacKenzie lands abutted the MacGille lands to the North and West, and she could just make out the meadow shore of Loch Cadney on the horizon. As children, she and her brothers Gavin and Lucas would often play around the loch with the MacKenzie’s son, Nathan. Her heart flipped a little at the thought of Nathan MacKenzie. They had been friends. Or so she had thought. Dark, serious, with adults, but always seemed ready to laugh for her brothers Gavin and Lucas, yet never with her. She followed him around, a lost pup, wanting so badly to earn his respect, his praise, and his humor. She’d fancied herself in love with him, and who better to be in love with but the brooding son of a Highland Laird? Wasn’t that the way of it? Young lady, daughter of one Laird, willing and able to be taken by the Highland Highlander from the next clan over. That was what she thought then at least; foolish girl.

  Nathan had done his best to disabuse her of that fantasy, and for it she would never forgive him, or herself. It was one thing to always be found wanting by your brothers, always being a cast-off, not good enough, a girl. But to be rejected by the only single, able-bodied marriageable noble in all of the Highland Highlands, and the one whose family was her family’s closet ally? Not only that but he had kissed her. Her first proper kiss. But then to learn that he didn’t want her, at least not as a wife. It was the ultimate rejection. Flame hit her cheeks now at the memory. Nathan would never have loved her. A lesson she learned all too well. Ugh, what a chit I was, she thought. It’s a good thing I wised. up about him, the cur.

  “Well, what brings ye tae my castle lass?” Milly felt her stomach lurch. The smooth voice that interrupted her thoughts appeared as if she had conjured him out of thin air with her own memories. She turned around slowly, and instead of seeing old-man MacKenzie staring back at her as she’d expected, she found herself staring into the serious, cold, midnight blue eyes of his son, her youthful hero, and the man she currently despised above all others; Nathan MacKenzie.

  “Och, yer castle. Ye arrogant fool. I’m nae here tae see you, Nathan, I’m here tae talk tae yer da, Laird MacKenzie.” She hadn’t seen Nathan in three years, not since he rejected her offer of marriage on the shore of Loch Cadney. The game was a simple one. They had been playing it since they were very young. One would count all the way to one hundred or more. The others would hide. There were caves, old trees, tall grasses, any number of places to hide. She had been twenty, and he had been twenty-four. Thinking back on it now, Milly realized they were too old to play such games. It had been her turn to count. When she reached one-hundred, she looked around and found no-one except Nathan. He pulled her from behind into the mouth of a small cave along the shore and before she could protest he had kissed her. Correction, he had made her dizzy and wanton with his mouth. She had never been kissed before. Milly wasn’t the type of lass to swoon, but when Nathan had crushed her body against his, her knees went limp. He was her first, and she would never forget that kiss. She also hadn’t been kissed since.

  Instead of easing her off, like a gentleman would’ve, when she brazenly asked him to marry her, he had laughed at her. She could still hear his laughter ringing in her ears. It wasn’t a sound she would likely ever forget. She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life. Mortified by his rejection, she didn’t tell any one of their encounters, not even, to Gavin. From the moment of his rejection on, Nathan MacKenzie was dead to her. She swore she would never lay eyes on him again.

  “Och, Milly, I ken why yer here. And ye can have yer fool lad back. He dinnae do a thing wrong, that kitchen wench, Edina, that yer brother sent tae us lied on him. I can’t fathom why he was there tae begin with. But before I give ye what ye came for, I need tae ask if ye’d consider somethin’ for me in return?” Of course, nothing was given freely by Nathan MacKenzie. He was always plotting and scheming. Why would he offer to correct a clan error without asking for something in return? It was a good thing it was the old man who was in charge. She stuck her chin in out in defiance of his kind offer. Who did he think he was, Laird of the keep? Milly wasn’t surprised to see his arrogance still fully intact.

  “Thank ye, Nathan, but still I’d feel better if I heard it from the Laird himself.” She looked up in time to see a smirk cross his lips. His perfect, supple lips. She knew what those lips tasted like and at this moment she wanted to slap the smile right off them. She would relish the look of shock on his chiseled, handsome face, if only she were brazen enough to do so. Still another part of her wanted to run and throw herself into his arms. Blasted. He was as alluring as ever, and she hated him for it.

  “Ye did hear it from the Laird, lass,” he said, “Or, from the soon tae be Laird.” He looked at her as if he had been waiting for her to solve some sort of puzzle. She thought hard as she tried, yet he held all the pieces. What was he going on about… he was the Laird?

  “What dae ye mean? Are ye daft, Nathan, where’s yer da?”

  “He’s dead, Milly. I’m claiming th’ title Laird of Clan MacKenzie.” She sucked in a sharp breath. Watching him carefully she saw a brief flash of pain cross his gaze, but he quickly masked it. She had no idea the old-man had passed. How had it happened? When? It was true that her clan had been embroiled in its own troubles as of late, but surely, they would’ve heard the Laird of Clan MacKenzie had died. Had Lucas known and not told her? Did her ma know? Oh Nathan, and she’d been so cruel to him, not knowing he was dealing with the loss of his father, a loss she herself had felt keenly not that long ago. She shoved away the urge to put her arms around him, to comfort him.

  “Nathan, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. He was lost in the same battle that took yer kin. Ye have yer own grief. I heard about your da and Gavin. I’m sorry for what yer family must be suffering.” The last thing Milly wanted was sympathy from Nathan MacKenzie, but she momentarily forgot how much she despised him. She knew all too well what it was like to lose a father, and she wouldn’t wish that on even her worst enemy. After all they had been friends once, and not that long ago. She wished more than anything she had solid proof that Gavin hadn’t suffered the same fate as their father’s. She would like nothing more than to comfort Nathan with the news his childhood friend was still alive. But she had been down that road before. Without proof, she wasn’t believed. Her gut was not evidence enough for her own remaining family, why would it be for the likes of Nathan MacKenzie?

  “I’m happy yer here,” he continued, breaking into her thoughts. “I’ve been wanting to speak with ye. And here ye are, saving me a trip tae Cadney to fetch ye.”

  What was he going on about? He needed to speak with her? Why would Nathan MacKenzie ever need to speak with her? He had made his feelings about her perfectly clear that day on the lake when he cruelly rejected her.

  “Speak with me? What could ye possibly need with me?” she asked softly. She looked up at him, not even trying to mask her surprise.

  “It turns out in order for me tae stay Laird, as is my birthright, I need something. Something I think ye would be more than willin’ tae give, based on our last conversation.”

  “What th’ devil are ye goin’ on about, Nathan?” She was in no mood to play games with the serious Laird. Until this moment, she’d doubted Nathan even knew how. He looked down and nervously shuffled his feet. It was unlike Nathan MacKenzie to be nervous about anything, and Milly felt her insides tense. Whatever he was going on about wasn’t going to be good, she could feel it.

  “I need a wife, and it seems to me ye were once verra willin’ tae be married tae me. So, I humbly ask ye…Millicent Catharine MacGille, I’d like it verra much if ye were tae marry me.”

  Milly fell backward from the shock, steadying herself on the thick wood of the windowsill behind her. Holy hell, that is what Gavin would say were he here to witness his friend begging at his sister’s heels. Nathan MacKenzie just asked her to marry him? Holy hell, indeed.

  “Nathan MacKenzie, have ye lost yer damn mind?” was all she could think to say. The whole world had gone mad. She pushed herself of
f the window and didn’t offer Nathan a second glance as she stormed out of the library. He must be joking, only there was nothing frivolous in his tone. She didn’t want to wait around to see if there was humor in his eyes. How many times did Nathan MacKenzie expect to make a fool of her and how many times would she allow it?

  She made her way through the dark corridors of the castle toward the main hall. She must be in need of food because there is no way she had her wits about her if she thought she heard Nathan Mackenzie propose marriage. And of all people to her, not a chance. She approached the main table, still laden with food from the evening meal, and grabbing a plate piled it high with meats, breads and cheeses. It was bad enough the snow was blowing so hard that it could be days before she and Violet would be able to head back to Cadney, she certainly wasn’t going to starve while they waited. But she would be damned before she would join Nathan in the main hall for a shared meal. No thank you. She would gather enough food here for both her and Violet, and they would stay in their chambers until the storm passed. Avoiding Nathan was the smartest move, at least until he gathered his wits back. In the meantime, the more food the better. She would need to keep her strength up if she was going to continue to deal with Nathan MacKenzie.