A Highlander's Destiny (Digital Boxed Edition)

by Willa Blair

  Angus smiled. “Good. My son and one of your men there will bear witness to the writing of it, and my men that you now hold will sign it with an equal number of your own men. Is this agreeable to you?”

  “Aye.”

  “And one more thing, Fraser. I would like to speak with Andrew.”

  The room grew quiet. Ewan cleared his throat. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Angus. He’s…difficult on the best of days, with people he actually doesn’t hate. You’ve been very ill, and I don’t think…”

  Angus raised his hand, which trembled slightly. “I know Andrew is a crotchety old bastard, Ewan. But so am I. I won’t break.”

  Ian grinned, thrilled to have a reason to do so after the hell of the past few days. “Come on, Ewan. You can’t tell me that you haven’t secretly been wanting to see those two face off against each other.”

  “Sometimes, Ian, you have the oddest way of speaking.” Ewan grinned suddenly. “But you’re right. I would like to see this.” He asked one of his men to go fetch Andrew.

  A few minutes later, Andrew appeared in the doorway, a dour expression on his wrinkled face. “I have nothin’ to say to this man,” he said with a sneer.

  Angus sat up straighter in the bed. “Well, I have somethin’ to say to you, Fraser. My kinsmen and I knew how much you hated Duncan, and how much you were grievin’ for Catriona. When he vanished with no explanation, my kinsmen and I believed the worst about you, that you’d killed him. You proclaimed your innocence, but Duncan was gone, and surely he would have told us if he was leaving of his own accord!

  “Now I finally learn that Duncan did leave by choice, and that he’s still alive. He was young and selfish, and grief drives a man to do daft things sometimes. All I can do is apologize on behalf of my kinsmen. So, I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m sorry that we accused you of murder, and have helped perpetuate years of violence because of it.

  “We have the chance, here and now, to bring an end to this feud. Ewan and I are of the same mind about it. But I’m askin’ you, the man who was most wronged by the Mackenzies, if you will agree to end the feud, if you will stand by Ewan and sign your name to the truce. What say you, Andrew? Can you put aside your pride and accept my apology on behalf of your people?”

  The room was so silent, Ian thought he could hear Ewan blink his eye from across the room. For once, Andrew wasn’t grumbling; rather, he looked thoughtful. Was it possible he would agree? And if he didn’t, would the truce still stand?

  After a seemingly endless amount of time had passed, and people had begun to fidget, Andrew looked up.

  “Over 30 years ago, I was a man like any other, one who wished for the best for his daughters. Only the best, and nothin’ more. When my youngest daughter chose a man from another clan, I thought nothing of her happiness, only of my disappointment. Because of my stubbornness and pride, I lost two daughters and a grandchild, and became a bitter old wretch, not even worthy of bein’ called a man.

  “I could have lost the only two granddaughters I have left the other day, without ever havin’ had the chance to really know them. I don’t want to be that man any more. I want to live out whatever years I have left with the sunshine on my face and the companionship of my kin.”

  Andrew moved close to Angus’s bed. “And so, my answer is aye. I accept your apology, and offer my own for bein’ too stubborn and too full of pride to approve of my daughter’s happiness, and for causin’ her so much pain that she was…unable to survive.”

  His voice broke, but he soldiered on. “I cannot offer this apology to her, or to my other daughter, Sorcha, but I can offer it to the two young lasses who bear their blood, and mine.”

  He turned to look at Abby and Alannah, his eyes streaming with tears. “Can you forgive me?”

  Abby’s eyes glistened, and Ian knew she was not just crying for Andrew’s grief, but for lying to him. Both she and Alannah nodded in assent, and Andrew let out a shuddering breath of relief.

  “Then let us draw up the treaty and end this godforsaken feud.”

  Ewan directed his attention to his two men who were standing by the door. “Thomas, go fetch ink and parchment. Andrew, Angus, Douglas, and I will write up the agreement. Kenneth, you go let the villagers know about the truce and tell them also that there will be a feast this evening in honor of it. Everyone is to bring food to the meeting hall two hours before sundown. Ian, Abby, and Alannah, take your rest now, so you can enjoy tonight’s festivities.”

  Everyone started for the door, but Ian held up his hand. “Wait a moment.”

  When everyone stopped and looked at him, he turned to face Abby, gazing down at her bonny face. “Mo mhùirnìn, a few hours ago, when we thought all was lost, you said you wished more than anything that we had wed. Abby, I love you more than anything, and I don’t wish to wait any longer.”

  He dropped to one knee, holding her hand tightly in his, and gazed up into her radiant eyes, now welling with tears. “Mo cridhe, will you marry me? This evening, while we are feasting in celebration of the ending of this feud and Angus’s miraculous recovery, in the presence of your kin and mine, will you agree to make it a wedding feast as well?”

  She looked around the room at all the pairs of eyes that were focused on her, and then gazed down at Ian, her eyes luminous. She sniffled and then smiled, love radiating from her eyes. He felt the warmth of her smile infuse his body, and knew what her answer would be, that she would now say yes.

  She sank to her knees and threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him backward with the force of her embrace. He held her tightly as her mouth pressed against his.

  “I guess that the answer is aye, then?”

  They separated at the sound of Angus’s amused voice, having forgotten their audience in their excitement. Everyone was grinning, including the burly guards. Even Andrew had a small smile on his face.

  Abby got to her feet, her face flaming. She held out her hand and pulled Ian up beside her. “Aye, that’s a yes.”

  Ewan grinned broadly. “’Tis settled then. Kenneth, be sure to inform the villagers that we will be celebrating a wedding as well as the end of the feud! Now, you three go take your rest while we write up this agreement.”

  ****

  They all left the cottage, tired smiles on their faces. A lad was sent to bring the women’s horses.

  Abby held Ian’s hand, feeling as though she had been reborn. After all the fear and worry of the last few days, a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders. Angus was on his way to recovery, Andrew had redeemed himself somewhat—though she still didn’t know what had caused him to treat Alannah like dirt. Ian’s life was no longer in danger, and she and Ian were to be married. Today. In a few hours. She looked up at Ian, who was gazing down at her, love shining in his emerald eyes. He beamed at her, and warmth spread throughout her body.

  Ian tore his gaze from her and turned to Alannah. “I don’t know how to thank you for trusting me, Alannah. Thank you for saving Angus’s life.” He pulled her close in a one-armed hug.

  “Aye, you will have to send for more of this medicine. ’Twas very powerful, indeed. It only took three portions of it for the fever to break.”

  “We should give him at least one more dose, just to be certain.”

  “I did, just before you came in.”

  “Oh. Good, then. Hopefully it will prevent the fever from coming back.”

  Abby looked at her two companions. “We are all ready to drop. I think we should do as Ewan says and rest for awhile.”

  Ian grinned. “Aye, lass. I will see you back here for our wedding.” He pulled her close and murmured in her ear. “And our wedding night.”

  The low rumble of his voice sent a delicious shudder down her spine, as did the heated promise in his eyes. The stable lad returned with the horses, and he helped them mount up. As they rode towards Alannah’s cottage, Abby turned to see Ian staring after them, his face glowing with happiness.

  CHAPTER 27

  Abby
rode through the village with Alannah, lost in her thoughts. Barely more than an hour before, she’d been weeping at the thought of Ian being executed for his attack on Angus. Now they were set to marry in a matter of hours. How quickly things had changed!

  They rode into the yard and turned the horses out to graze. Conall emerged from the woods to greet them, enthusiastically running from Abby to Alannah and back, licking each of them in turn.

  Too exhausted to do anything, they crawled into Alannah’s bed, knowing that Conall would want to be let out in a few hours and would wake them early enough to get ready for the wedding.

  Abby awakened some time later when Conall jumped on the bed and began licking each of them in turn yet again. A living alarm clock. It was late afternoon, but still several hours until the wedding.

  They hauled buckets from the stream and heated the water in a cauldron over the fire before pouring it into a tub. It was exhausting work, and it gave Abby a huge appreciation for whichever genius had invented indoor plumbing and the hot-water heater. Scented soap was a luxury at that time, so Abby made do with a lump of lye soap and lavender-scented oil. The worst part was washing her long hair, and she found herself desperately longing for her vanilla-scented shampoo and conditioner.

  After she finished bathing, she began the arduous process of combing the tangles from her wet hair.

  “Here, let me do that.” Alannah took the bone comb from her hand and sat behind her, gently working out the tangles. She added a few drops of lavender-scented oil to the comb.

  After Abby’s hair was lying sleek and smooth down her back, Alannah took her turn in the bath, and then they both went for a walk along the stream to gather some flowers and to let their hair dry.

  ****

  “Ian? Ian, wake up, you dolt!”

  Ian was dragged out of a blessedly dreamless sleep by Ewan’s hand roughly shaking his shoulder.

  “Hmph? What? What’s the matter?” Ian struggled to sit up, roughly scrubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Ow! Shite!”

  Ewan chortled—a sound Ian never thought he’d hear from him. “Careful, laddie! I suspect you’ll be wantin’ your eyes in your head today!”

  The wedding! Ian swore in Gaelic as he lurched to his feet. Ewan burst into an all-out guffaw. “Son of a sheep-shagging whore? That’s one I’ve not heard before.”

  Ian flipped up his middle finger. Apparently the meaning of the gesture was self-explanatory, and Ewan continued to chuckle.

  “Be at peace, Mackenzie. You’ve plenty of time. We finished writing out the peace accord—two copies of it—and it has been signed by everyone. You were sleepin’ so deeply that you didn’t hear me knockin’ on the door. I wager you’ll be wantin’ a bath before this evenin’?”

  Ian snorted. “Aye, I cannot go to my bride smellin’ like a goat. Do you have some soap?”

  “I already thought if that, as well as some clean clothes for you,” Ewan replied, reaching into his sporran and withdrawing a lump of soap. He handed it to Ian, along with a bundle of clothes he’d carried under his arm, and then laid his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “I hope you understand why I had to lock you up again, Ian. Please believe me when I say I’m glad it worked out the way it did.”

  He looked into Ewan’s earnest brown eyes. “Aye, Ewan. I understand the position you were in. But that’s all behind us now.”

  Ian left the clean clothes on the narrow bed and followed Ewan outside, sniffing at the lump of soap in his hand. It had a spicy scent, and he cocked an eyebrow at Ewan, who did not seem the type of man to have such items of luxury.

  Ewan shrugged his shoulders, a sheepish grin on his face. “Aye, well, I bought it in the hopes that one day I’d have a lassie who would smell that scent and throw herself at me.” A wistful expression came across his face as he looked off into the distance.

  Ian followed his gaze and realized he was looking in the direction of Alannah’s cottage. Ewan caught him watching and quickly masked his expression. “Off with you now. The stream should wake you right up.”

  “Thanks.” Ian strode down the path leading to the stream. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the water.

  “Bloody Hell!”

  He let out a string of curses in English and in Gaelic as the icy water touched his skin. He was about ready to nix the bath altogether, but then he remembered that he’d spent more than a day locked up, and had spent a good portion of that time in a cold sweat as he contemplated his death. No, Abby deserved to spend her wedding night with someone who looked—and smelled—his very best.

  He closed his eyes and blindly stumbled forward, teeth clenched. When the water lapped around his waist, he dove in, submerging himself completely.

  “Holy shit!” Ian swam around a bit, hoping that he would eventually become accustomed to the water temperature.

  He didn’t. With a sigh, he began to lather himself with the soap, his jaw aching from clenching his teeth so tightly.

  ****

  As Abby and Alannah walked along the stream, they heard a splashing nearby. Peering through the trees, they caught sight of Ian bathing. Alannah quickly looked away, her face flushing, but Abby was unable to tear her eyes away from him.

  “It’s all right, Alannah, you can’t see anything.” It was true; Ian was submerged to the shoulders as he soaped up his hands and ran them through his hair.

  As they watched, Ian finished lathering his hair and ducked under the surface, bursting from the water like a breaching dolphin. Abby’s heart pounded with anticipation as his naked body was revealed all the way down to the indentations of his hipbones, the “Ken Doll lines” she found so damn sexy. Water sluiced down from his sleek dark hair to lap temptingly around his hips. He raised his hands to wring out those dripping locks, his muscles flexing. Abby’s body thrummed with desire at the sight of him, her eyes hungrily following the water droplets as they ran down his chest and abdomen.

  Abby heard a sharp intake of breath, and glanced at Alannah, who was staring intently, her cheeks flushed.

  “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

  “Aye, Abby.” Alannah’s voice was low and reverent, as though she were in the presence of a deity. “I’ve never seen such a sight. You’re very fortunate.”

  Abby’s heart clenched at the wistful tone in her friend’s voice. She squeezed Alannah’s hand. “Come. We should go before he catches us spying on him.”

  They returned to the cottage, and Alannah gestured Abby to sit before the fire so she could dress her drying hair. Her nimble fingers quickly plaited several locks on each side of Abby’s head, and then she pulled those back, securing them at the crown. She wove in the stems of the tiny flowers they’d picked.

  When she finished dressing Abby’s hair, Alannah went over to a chest that sat at the foot of her bed. She went to the chest and began to remove things, carefully piling them to one side. She handed Abby a well-worn, leather-bound book.

  “It’s our family Bible. I thought perhaps you’d like to have a look. The back pages have the marriage and birth records, including your parents’.”

  Abby handled the book carefully, not wanting to damage it. She gently flipped to the back, where the records were handwritten both in English and Gaelic. She almost dropped the book when she read the words: Sorcha Abigail Fraser m. Kenneth Andrew Fraser, 21 May, 1571.

  Sorcha Abigail Fraser? A shiver ran down her spine as she realized just how connected she was to the Frasers and to this place.

  Alannah had gone back to her trunk, and was now carefully removing a bundle wrapped in linen. The pleasant smell of lavender filled the air once more. Alannah carried the bundle to the bed and slowly unwrapped it, holding up a gown.

  It was a soft blue-gray color, having no doubt faded somewhat over time. The sleeves were long and flared at the end, leaving excess fabric to hang down from the wrists. Along the scooped neckline were some embroidered flowers in a dark blue thread.

  Abby reached out to gently touch the fabric. “Alannah,
this is lovely! Was it your mother’s?”

  “Aye.” Alannah reverently traced the neckline with one fingertip. “The color matches your eyes. You should have something bonny for your wedding.”

  “I can’t wear this. It’s for you to wear on your wedding day.”

  “Abby, please. I want you to wear it. I have no plans to marry, and if that changes, I can wear it then. It has sat here unused for over twenty years. Please.”

  How could she turn down such a request? “I would be honored to wear it, Alannah. I thank you.”

  ****

  Ian emerged from the cold water and quickly toweled off with a piece of linen, wrapping the grimy borrowed plaid around himself in an attempt to warm up a bit. The sun was peeking through the clouds, and he decided to take advantage of its warmth. He lay on his back on a boulder and tipped his face up to the sun.

  He thought about the events of the last few days. It was so ironic. For the past four years, he’d been cast mostly in historical sword-and-horse movies, and he’d started to resent that. He’d wanted to branch out, to play some rugged action hero with a wicked cool gun, instead of a grungy warrior with a sword.

  But now that he found himself thrown into a real-life period piece, he couldn’t help but be grateful for all those roles. They’d been practice for the real thing. Thanks to the skills he’d been forced to keep up with while acting in those damned historical movies, he’d been able to prove his fighting ability to Ewan. Because of that, Ewan had let him join him and his men to rescue Abby, which in turn had set in motion the events bringing about the end of the feud.

  And he’d nearly killed his father’s cousin and oldest friend. Ian bowed his head against the sudden burning in his eyes. Though Angus had absolved him of blame, he could not absolve himself. He would never forget the way his sword had felt as it sank into living flesh, the stickiness of another man’s lifeblood as it dried against his skin, the metallic tang of blood that he could still smell, no matter how he’d scrubbed.