Blue Bonnets

by Marie Laval

  The evening ceremony in the chapel at the back of the British Embassy had been a little rushed because Reverend Thompson had been at the bedside of a dying British merchant all day and needed to return to the grieving family for the wake. After the ceremony, they had gone to the Excelsior Hotel, but instead of going to her room, she had sneaked into Cameron’s suite in secret, since nobody was to know about the wedding. After uncorking a bottle of champagne, they’d toasted their union. He’d taken her in his arms and they’d waltzed across the room. How happy, giddy and excited she had felt!

  After that everything had gone terribly wrong, which had all been her fault…

  With a heavy sigh, she grabbed hold of a pebble and threw it as hard as she could into the stream. It hit a rock, bounced off and landed with a loud plop. Half a dozen ravens flew off from a nearby tree, making hoarse crowing calls which broke the perfect silence of the morning.

  Why would Cameron have played such a cruel trick on her? Lord McGunn was wrong. He had to be.

  She swallowed. Bruce McGunn. He was the other reason she had been awake all night.

  She whispered his name and her chest tightened so much it hurt. What was it about him that made her angry and weak all at once, that filled her with longing, heat and need in a way no other man, even Cameron, ever had? He was a harsh, brutal, unpleasant man – the exact opposite of Cameron in everything – and she disliked him with a frightening intensity.

  Yet she’d all but melted in his arms the evening before. Her body craved his touch, his caresses. Her heart ached and swelled up for him every time she recalled the anguished, haunted look in his eyes when he spoke of Ferozeshah and what he called his curse. Nothing made sense anymore, least of all her own feelings.

  Her fingers scooped a little snow and moulded it into a ball she threw into the stream. Dipping her fingers in the water, she cupped a little icy water into her hands and washed her face until her cheeks tingled and her mind felt sharper. She rinsed out the cups, filled the tin pot with fresh water and started back towards the village just as the winter sun, a huge ball of blood-red fire, was rising between the mountains, turning the sky into a riot of fiery colours that painted the snow red and orange.

  Lost in her thoughts she didn’t see the beast until it was too late. It stood a few feet away only, magnificent and tall with its huge antlers and thick brownish coat. By Old Ibrahim’s Beard, what was that? She’d never seen such an animal before. It was huge, and looked deadly.

  For a second it seemed as unsure as herself as to what to do. Then it shook its antlers, beat the ground with its foreleg, let out a series of grunts which echoed in the silence, as if poised to charge.

  A squeal of terror echoed behind her and she swirled round. The youngest McKenzie girl stood still, her eyes opened wide in fright, her face as pale as snow.

  ‘Don’t make a sound, don’t move, until I tell you.’ Rose willed her voice to remain calm, all the time glancing around for something she would use to make the beast go away. There was nothing which could serve as a weapon – nothing but snow. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do…

  Dropping the pots to the ground, barely aware of the cold water splashing all over her skirt and boots, she bent down to scoop a handful of snow. She shaped a ball and threw it at the stag’s chest. The animal jerked back in surprise.

  ‘Go back to the cottage. Now!’ She told the girl before bending down to make more snowballs and throw them in rapid succession at the animal.

  The stag let out a loud snort, breathed out a cloud of steam and pawed at the snowy ground. It took a couple more minutes and several more snowballs for it to turn and run away in the woods.

  ‘Snow balls against a stag? Now that was a bloody daft idea.’ A man’s deep voice scolded behind her.

  Annoyed, she swung round to face Bruce McGunn. His face was hard, his grey eyes almost blue in the bright morning light. Like every time he was close, her heart drummed so fast and loud she found it hard to breathe.

  ‘I had to think of something to give the little girl time to run away.’

  ‘It was completely irresponsible. Did you see the size of its antlers? It could have killed you both had it charged.’

  There he was again, telling her off like a stupid, naughty child. Anger and hurt flooded inside her – a wild, mad torrent that made her voice shake and her face burn. She stamped her foot on the ground, grabbed hold of one of her remaining snowballs and pressed it hard between her hands until it was hard and compact.

  ‘Well, it didn’t charge, did it? What would you rather I had done? Climbed up a tree with the little girl on my back, or grabbed a stick and chased after it, or just stood there and screamed for help?’

  He arched an eyebrow. ‘Calm down, sweetheart, I was just…’

  She stomped her foot on the ground again.

  ‘Don’t tell me to calm down, and don’t tell me I am making a scene. And above all, don’t call me sweetheart! I wish you’d stop talking to me as if I was five years old. I wish you’d leave me alone and I’d never see you again. But most of all I wish I’d never met you.’

  ‘You said that before,’ he remarked coolly. ‘Now, if you’ve finished your little tantrum, it’s time we went back to the cottage…’

  That did it. She didn’t remember raising her arm and taking aim but the next thing she knew she threw the snowball at him. It hit his chin with a soft thud.

  She let out a squeak, put her hand in front of her mouth and stepped back.

  ‘You need to improve your aim,’ he said, deadly calm as he brushed the white powder off his dark beard. ‘It was off target if you meant to get me on the nose,’

  ‘I – I didn’t mean to hit you.’

  ‘Yes, you did. Let me show you how it’s done.’

  He bent down to scoop some snow and threw a snowball at her. She was so surprised she didn’t move and it caught her on the shoulder.

  He tossed another snowball. This time she ducked and it landed behind her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought it was obvious. We’re having a snowball fight, aren’t we?’

  He gathered a handful of snow, and shaped it between his hands.

  ‘Come on, what are you waiting for?’ he called, a wide smile on his face.

  It took her a split second to make up her mind. If Lord McGunn challenged her to a snowball fight, then she would show him what she was capable of. She bent down, packed some snow between her hands and threw a ball but he dodged it and it landed on the ground.

  ‘Is that the best you can do?’ The sunlight caught his eyes again, made them shine with silver sparkles.

  She hurled the next ball straight at his head.

  ‘I got you! I got you!’ She cried out, jumping up and down when she caught him on the nose.

  ‘Not bad, but a little weak.’

  ‘Weak, you said? Then how do you find this one?’

  She hurled another snowball at him. It hit him hard on the chin, peppering his dark beard with white.

  ‘That was pure chance. I wasn’t concentrating. I bet you can’t do that again.’

  ‘Watch me.’

  She moulded half a dozen more snowballs and pummelled him with them. Every time they hit their target with a satisfying thump, she jumped up and down and shrieked with delight. In contrast, his aim was so poor he almost always missed her. It was almost as if he was doing it on purpose.

  ‘I won! Look at you, you’re all white.’ She laughed as she pointed at his hair, face and coat scattered with fresh snow.

  Her foot caught a rock hidden under the snow and she stumbled forward, straight into his arms, making them both lose their balance. He swayed before falling backward and cushioning their fall with his body, and she found herself lying on top of him, his body hard and warm under her.

  He wrapped his arms around her, so tightly she stopped breathing, and the world became a blur – the snow fields, the dark green forest and the sharp, crisp blue sky al
l melted into a kaleidoscope of colours. Underneath her, he was no longer smiling, but tense and hard as steel.

  He slid her up along his body until their eyes, their mouths were level. Slipping one hand onto the nape of her neck, he pulled her down towards him, slowly, inexorably. Her heart drummed as hard as a bendir. She held her breath, waiting, willing for their lips to touch. Her mind shut down. Nothing existed, nothing mattered but him and the flame that danced and burned inside her, higher and stronger with every heartbeat.

  ‘Damn it, graidheag, I want you and I don’t care who you are,’ he said in a hoarse voice before pulling her down and bringing her mouth to his in a hot, rough, impatient kiss.

  The thick stubble on his cheeks rubbed against her skin. It was wet with melted snow, at once soft and bristly, and made her tingle and shiver all over. She lifted a hand to the side of his face and her fingers stroked his cheek in a timid caress.

  His breathing quickened, tremors shook the steely arms that pinned her to him. Pressing one hand against the back of her neck, he forced her lips open with his mouth. His tongue slid inside her mouth and he kissed her long and deep. It was like being devoured alive, possessed by an irresistible force. And vanquished.

  The world exploded in millions of tiny, bright, colourful pieces and then there was only stormy darkness, waves of desire, and an unbearable heat coiling and spreading inside her. Her hands slid along his chest and onto his shoulders and stayed there, clinging and gripping as he ravaged her mouth. More, she wanted more. She wanted him.

  The sounds of voices nearby shattered the dark spell, and knocked her back to reality. She tore herself away from him, pressed her hands against his chest and pushed hard.

  ‘Someone’s coming.’

  ‘So what?’ His eyes were a dark and stormy, his breathing fast and heavy, his heart thumped so hard she could feel it against hers.

  Gripped by panic, she pushed harder.

  ‘Please. I don’t want anybody to see me… to see us like this.’

  He narrowed his eyes, hissed a breath and released her, and she scrambled to her feet.

  ‘It’s only Garbhan and his family,’ he remarked as he got up. ‘What does it matter if they see us having a tussle in the snow when they know we spent two nights alone in the cottage?’

  ‘It matters. Of course it matters,’ she cried out. Gathering her skirts, she ran blindly up the forest track. She had to escape, far away from the man who played havoc with her mind, her body… and her heart.

  ‘Watch out, Miss Rose,’ Garbhan cried out as she bumped into him. ‘You look all upset and flustered. Has the stag come back to give you another fright?’

  Next to him his wife and the three children looked at her with undisguised curiosity. She forced a few deep breaths down before answering.

  ‘No, it fled into the woods.’

  ‘We came to say goodbye,’ Garbhan began, ‘and to thank you for scaring that stag away. Our Lorna was so upset we couldn’t make head nor tail of what she was saying. Lord McGunn was the first to understand what was happening and he shot out of the cottage. I never saw a man run as fast.’

  He took hold of Rose’s hand, squeezed it hard.

  ‘There was no need for me to run,’ McGunn said behind her. ‘Rose was doing fine on her own.’

  He stepped beside her, his arms filled with the tumblers and pots she had dropped near the stream, and looked at Garbhan.

  ‘So it’s agreed. I’ll see you all at Wrath in a few days.’

  Rose frowned. ‘Wrath? I thought you were heading for Inverness.’

  ‘Lord McGunn made us an offer we couldn’t refuse,’ Garbhan said with a beaming smile. ‘We will be forever grateful.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ McGunn retorted. ‘You’re the one doing me a favour. I told you, I need more workers at the fisheries, and a couple of scullery maids at the Lodge.’

  ‘God bless you, Lord McGunn,’ Alana said, her eyes full of tears. ‘I promise we’ll work hard for you. You’re a good man and what you’re doing for us, well, it’s wonderful.’

  ‘It’s no big thing. There’s no need to cry,’ he interrupted in a gruff voice.

  Rose wasn’t fooled by his harsh response. He was preserving their pride as well as saving them from life in the slums. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart felt so tight, so full, it hurt. She felt a tug at her skirt and looked down to find the youngest McKenzie girl smiling at her.

  ‘He looks mean but he’s rather nice, isn’t he?’ she asked, slipping her small hand into hers and dragging her along on the patch back to the cottage. ‘You must be glad he’s your graidhean.’

  ‘You’re wrong, my dear,’ Rose replied in a wistful voice. ‘He’s not my sweetheart.’

  It didn’t take long for the McKenzies to harness their horse to the cart, pile their bags and children at the back. The two women sat on the driver’s seat. The men slipped their bundles onto their back, shook hands with Lord McGunn and herself and exchanged wishes for a safe journey.

  When the family had disappeared down the path, McGunn walked into the cottage. He didn’t talk or look at her once while they packed their bags. It was as if he had never held and kissed her, back there in the snow, as if he’d never said he wanted her, and it had all been a dream.

  Her hand shook as she fastened her bag shut. Only it hadn’t been a dream. It had been real, so real her lips were still swollen from the onslaught of his kiss, and she could still feel the hot imprint of his fingers on the nape of her neck.

  ‘We’re ready,’ he said as he brushed the ashes off the hearth before scattering them outside.

  She didn’t answer but watched him shutter the windows and secure the door. Once again, the cottage stood empty and abandoned. She sighed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He glared down at her. ‘Aren’t you glad we’re leaving this place?’

  ‘Of course I’m glad. I can’t wait to be in Westmore and prove you wrong about Cameron.’

  She adjusted her bonnet and tied the ribbons under her chin.

  ‘You’ll have your chance tomorrow. We should get there just in time for your grand ball.’ He looked down. ‘And then you’ll get your wish.’

  ‘What wish?’ She frowned.

  ‘You will be back with McRae and never have to lay eyes on me again.’

  He was right. That was exactly what she wanted, so why did the thought suddenly make her want to cry?

  Chapter Seven

  Rose squinted against the sunlight that bounced and sparkled on the surface of the sea. The white seabirds with black-tipped wings Lord McGunn had called kittiwakes and gannets glided on the wind in an endless dance, their strident cries rising above the roaring waves. Gusts of wind whipped strands of hair out of her bonnet and around her face, seeped through her clothes like icy fingers and left a salty taste on her lips.

  The ground shook as white-crested waves charged against the cliffs, hit the rocks with such force sea spray flew high in the air, then retreated as if to gather strength, only to move forward again. It was awesome, and exhilarating. It was magnificent.

  ‘You’re cold.’ McGunn wrapped his arms more tightly around her.

  She stiffened. ‘I’m fine.’

  How could she tell him that the shivers coursing through her had nothing to do with the freezing wind and everything to do with him? His muscular thighs encased her body, his scent mingled with that of the ocean. Every time she breathed she felt the hard wall of his chest against her back, and remembered how it had felt to lie on top of him when he’d kissed her.

  ‘We should be in Porthaven by late afternoon,’ he remarked as he guided Shadow along the cliff path. ‘Tomorrow we’ll ride to Westmore Manor, a few hours away from there.’

  She stared at the snow-covered moors which stretched as far as the eye could see and shook her head.

  ‘I had no idea Cameron’s estate was so vast.’

  ‘Half of it used to be ours before the McRaes stole it.’

  Remembering what Ca
meron had told her about the long, embittered feud between McRaes and McGunns, she frowned.

  ‘I thought your ancestor Fergus McGunn was to blame for the loss of the land. He joined the Jacobite rebels and that’s why his lands were confiscated and given to the McRaes who had remained loyal to the king.’

  Bruce McGunn reined Shadow in and looked down, and she suddenly felt a little nervous about the steely glare in his eyes, the way his jaw had locked and the silence that stretched between them for what felt like long minutes.

  ‘It is true that unlike most clans chiefs from the northern Highlands, Fergus fought for the Stuarts’ cause,’ he said at last. ‘He had managed to survive Culloden and was travelling back to Wrath with what was left of his men when Gordon McRae and his men intercepted him. McRae had him beaten up and dragged him to London in shackles. He was executed on Tower Hill. After that, McRae was rewarded by the King with a large chunk of our family estate.’

  He paused. ‘McRae’s actions had nothing to do with being loyal to the king and everything to do with revenge. By having Fergus executed, he killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. Not only did he get the lands his family had coveted for generations, but he took his revenge on Fergus for snatching his fiancée from him.’

  ‘Snatching his fiancée?’ Cameron hadn’t told Rose anything about that.

  McGunn nodded. ‘A few years before, Fergus had captured her ship as it sailed around Cape Wrath. He took her hostage and asked McRae for a ransom.’

  Her eyes widened. That story sounded strangely familiar.

  ‘McRae paid up, Fergus returned the ship but kept the woman.’ A brief smile touched McGunn’s lips and sparkles of silver lit his eyes.

  ‘You mean he kept her a prisoner?’

  ‘Not at all. She came to her senses and realised she’d rather marry a McGunn than a McRae.’

  ‘The poor woman probably never had a choice. What became of her after Fergus was executed?’

  ‘On his way back from London, McRae lay siege to the Lodge and demanded that she marry him now she was a widow, but instead of giving in, Noelie threw herself from the top of the tower, leaving her son behind – my grandfather.’