Highland Destiny [Murray Brothers Book 1]

by Hannah Howell

  "I rode up to Eric and Maldie heady with the sweet taste of victory. Ere I could speak I was told that not only is the lass I want the daughter of the mon I had just killed, but so is the boy I have called brother for thirteen years. Mayhap I am not as quick of wit as others, but I found such news enough to steal away both speech and thought. Aye, especially since the reason for the long, bloody feud was that all thought my father had bedded Beaton's wife and got her with child, and now Maldie was telling me that it wasnae true. Weel, not all of it leastwise. She then added to my shock by telling me the true reason she had been on the road to Dubhlinn, that she had come to murder her own father. Aye, and she added that she had planned to use me and mine to achieve that vengeance. I needed time to think o'er all I had been told and she gave me none, fleeing Donncoill ere we had cleaned our weapons of the blood of the Beatons."

  "That was nearly a month past, my friend. ‘Tisnae that long a ride from Donncoill to here."

  "I have slow horses,” Balfour drawled, then inwardly cursed when Colin just grinned while a few of the many other Kirkcaldys crowding the hall softly chuckled. “She gave me no reason for why she was leaving. She just left. No fare-thee-weel, no explanation, not even a thank ye for helping me exact the revenge I sought. I was left to find my own answers for all she had done, for why she had fled, and none of them suggested that she would wish me to follow her. If naught else, I had just killed her father."

  "She cared naught for the bastard."

  "So she said. So everyone kept reminding me. But even if that were true, then there remained the fact that I had robbed her of the revenge she had been seeking for so long. She had made a deathbed vow to her mother, a blood oath, and I had just stolen all chance for her to fulfill it."

  "If that had troubled the lass, ye would have kenned it. She wouldnae have quietly slipped away. Nay, though I have kenned the lass for less than a month, I can say with confidence that she would have let ye ken she was angry.” Colin crossed his arms over his chest. “Do ye ken what I think? I think ye were sulking. Did ye really expect our Maldie to sit about and placidly wait for ye to decide what ye did or didnae feel about all she had just told you? Or what ye did or didnae feel about her?"

  "I felt she should have given me a day or two to swallow all she had told me. ‘Twas a belly full. My lover was my enemy's child, my brother wasnae my brother, a long, costly feud had been based upon a lie, a bairn had nearly been cruelly murdered because of that lie and might still be deprived of his birthright because of it, and the lass I trusted admitted that she had lied to me from the beginning."

  "Ye didnae trust her the whole time she was there."

  "Ye seem to have won the lass's confidence,” Balfour murmured, a little surprised that Maldie had told the man so much. “Nay, I didnae, and in the end it was revealed that I was right to wonder what game she played. She had a lot of secrets and she had lied to me. I but guessed the wrong game. Now, although I can understand your concern for your niece, our discussing all of this only keeps me from seeing her. I have told ye all I mean to. Whate'er else needs to be said must be between me and Maldie."

  "She is on the east side of the loch."

  Balfour tried not to gape at the man as he slowly stood up. “That is it? No more questions? Ye arenae e'en going to ask me what my intentions are?"

  Colin just smiled. “I feel they must be all that is honorable or ye wouldnae have chased the lass down. Ye certainly wouldnae have sat here trying to patiently answer my questions, some of which were most impertinent. And if ye just mean to further shame the lass, ye will ne'er leave my lands alive. Now, see if ye can get the fool lass back here for the evening meal. She hasnae been eating as she should."

  Balfour almost laughed as he stared at the man. “Maldie may not have been raised amongst her kinsmen, but I begin to see what is meant when people say blood will tell.” He could hear Colin laughing as he strode out of the great hall.

  As soon as he mounted his horse it took all of his willpower not to gallop out of the Kirkcaldy keep and race for the loch. The thought that Colin might see him or hear of his haste and have a hearty laugh gave him the strength to act as if he felt no real urgency. Balfour also suspected that approaching the loch at a headlong gallop could easily warn Maldie, giving her time to hide or flee. The last thing he wished to do was to spend more precious time hunting her down. It was past time she ceased to guess at his thoughts or feelings and sat still to listen to what he had to say.

  Maldie sighed, baited her fishing line, and dropped it into the water. Since arriving at her kinsmen's lands she had spent many days lying in the soft grass at the loch's edge, pretending to fish. A few times she had actually caught something, but it had been by accident. She only claimed to be fishing so that she could be alone. Her uncle Colin was a very clever man and she suspected he had guessed her game, but he said nothing. At times she caught a fleeting glimpse of one of her many kinsmen so she knew she was being watched, but she did not really mind. The guards her uncle set around her never disturbed her solitude, so she felt no urge to complain.

  Most of her was still delighted beyond words to have found her family and be warmly accepted by them. There was a small part of her, however, that found such a large family very difficult to adjust to even after a month of trying. She was accustomed to being alone, to having no one save her mother to speak to and, quite often, her mother had been either sullenly silent or sharp-tongued and angry. Those ill moods had grown so frequent in the last year of Margaret's life that Maldie had rarely spoken to the woman. Now, suddenly, she was surrounded by people who loved to talk, boisterous, friendly people. There were times when she had to escape to the quiet of the loch, had to steal a moment to be alone with her thoughts.

  "Although why I should continually seek that when they arenae verra pretty ones, I dinnae ken,” she muttered to her reflection in the still, clear water. “I should be running away from the cursed things."

  Balfour still remained prominent in her thoughts and that angered her. It had been a month since she had seen him, longer since she had been kissed or held by him. He should not be haunting her, not so strongly or frequently. She loved him but that love had not been returned, had not even been acknowledged by either of them, and it had not been strengthened by word or touch or even sight of the man in weeks. Maldie did not understand why her stubborn heart was so reluctant to let the man go.

  It hurt, and she could almost hate him for that, except that she knew it was not Balfour's fault, not completely. He had made her no promises, never once speaking of anything but the passion they shared. She had tried to talk sense to herself time and time again, but her heart simply refused to listen to reason. It had decided that it wanted Balfour Murray despite her better judgment, and it now refused to let him go.

  A soft noise in the grass pulled her from her dark thoughts and she looked behind her, gaping up at the man standing there. As she stumbled to her feet she wondered wildly if her mind or her heart was playing tricks on her. She then thought of running, but sternly told herself not to be such a coward. Maldie straightened her shoulders and tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

  "Why are ye here?” she asked, inwardly cursing the tremor in her voice, for she did not want Balfour to guess how tumultuous her emotions were.

  "I have come for you,” he said, stepping closer and effectively trapping her between him and the loch. “Ye left without saying fareweel, sweet Maldie."

  He watched her closely but, except for a darkening of his fine eyes, she could not read his expression. To her astonishment she could not sense any emotion in him at all. It was as if he had shut himself away from her completely. Maldie wondered when and how he had gained that skill. It was a very inconvenient time for him to learn how to shield himself. She shivered, feeling chilled by the loss of her ability to touch him in that way.

  "No one likes the bearer of bad news,” she muttered. “How is Eric?"

  "The lad is hale. All of his brui
ses have healed. What did ye think I would do to him?"

  "Nothing bad. Truly.” She dragged her fingers through her hair and grimaced. “I was just worried about him. He had suffered an ordeal. All he had once thought was true had been shown to be a lie. A mon he had been taught to hate, a mon who had tried to cruelly murder him ere his life had truly begun, was shown to be his true father. Aye, and although he told me that all was weel, I did wonder how ye and the others might truly feel about that."

  "Eric is my brother.” He shrugged. “I cannae change what I have felt and believed for so many years simply because I have discovered that the lad and I dinnae share a blood kinship. Until Eric told me how the truth had been revealed, I did, for a brief time, wonder how ye could have been so cruel as to tell him something he didnae need to know, something that could only hurt him. After all, the mark ye two share isnae one all can see with ease. It has to be uncovered. Then, all I had to try and understand was why ye had lied to me, and why ye lacked the courage to stand and face me."

  "I didnae think ye would wish to see me again after I had deceived you."

  Balfour reached out and took her by the hand, tugging her into his arms. “Did ye not once think that I might wish to hear the why of it all?"

  "I told ye the why of it after the battle.” She tried to remain taut, to resist the allure of being back in his arms, but it had been too long. Slowly she rested against him, encircling his trim waist with her arms. “I told ye everything."

  "Oh, aye, and ye started with the worst news, the most shocking. After ye told me that ye were Beaton's daughter, that your own mother had made ye vow to come to Dubhlinn and kill your own father, and that my brother wasnae truly my brother, can ye be so verra surprised that I wasnae listening too closely to anything ye said after that?"

  She looked up at him and tried to think back to the day of the battle. It was hard, for what she wanted to do was savor the beauty of him, kiss those firm lips, and roll about on the soft grass in naked passionate abandon. Maldie pushed those thoughts aside, certain they would return with a vengeance, and relived the moment she had told him the whole ugly truth. She had thought the still, wide-eyed look upon his face had been shock and anger, but now realized that he had been stunned. The truths she had told him had hit him like blows to the head, each one scrambling his wits until he simply heard no more. She had not actually felt anything from within him, had not really been aware of his emotions at all. Maldie realized that she had decided how he would feel, and had never looked any further. She had also been too concerned with her own turbulent emotions, desperate to keep them tightly controlled, to even try to touch upon what Balfour had been suffering.

  "Weel, it doesnae really matter how ye have or havenae accepted the truth, for one thing hasnae changed,” she said, not fully meaning what she said. It did matter. She was just not sure she wanted to know how he felt about it all, for the truth could easily add to the pain she was already suffering. “I am still Beaton's daughter, the spawn of your greatest and oldest enemy."

  "My greatest and oldest enemy is the English."

  Balfour almost laughed at the way she stared at him somewhat stupidly. Many men would hold her bloodline against her, but he did not care what it was. He knew some of that was because he had come to know her before he had discovered who had sired her. There had been time to learn about her, time to see that she carried none of Beaton's taint. It was not going to be easy to convince her of that, however. Even after staying with her Kirkcaldy kin for a month, Maldie was obviously still deeply concerned about carrying Beaton's blood in her veins.

  There was also the fact that he did not feel much like talking. It had been too long since he had held her, too long since he had kissed her, and far too long since their bodies had been joined. He touched a kiss to the top of her head, breathing deeply of her scent as he smoothed his hands down her slim back. She trembled, and he felt his desire leap to life in response to that sign that she might still share his hunger. Balfour knew they had a great deal to talk about, but, as he tilted her face up to his, he decided that talking could wait.

  Maldie only briefly considered refusing his kiss. There was so much they had to say. She did not even know why he had come after her. It had to have been for far more reasons than to say he understood why she had done what she had. Then he touched his lips to hers, and she decided that none of it mattered. If he had only come for another taste of the passion they could share it would hurt her, but she doubted her pain could be any worse than it had been since leaving Donncoill. At least she would have one last sweet moment of passion to add to her memories of him. She heartily returned his kiss, greedily drinking in the taste of him.

  "We should talk,” she said, making one last weak attempt to grasp at reason even as she tilted her head back so that he could more easily kiss her throat.

  "We will,” he said, unlacing her gown as he pulled her down onto the soft grass.

  "But not now?” Maldie murmured with a pleasure she could not hide as he stroked her body with his big hands even as he continued to loosen her clothing. She was starved for his touch and did not have the will to hide it.

  "I find that I am too distracted to talk.” He tugged her gown down to her slender waist and gently nibbled the hardened tips of her breasts so prominently visible beneath her thin chemise. Her soft groan made him tremble. “A wee respite will clear my head."

  "Only a wee respite?” She grasped him by his taut buttocks and pressed him close, the feel of his hardness almost enough to satisfy her need it was so strong and heedless.

  "I fear I am too starved for ye to linger o'er this much missed feast."

  "Dinnae fear. ‘Tis a feeling I ken all too weel. Ye will hear no more argument from me, though I may be compelled to urge ye to hurry."

  "Nay, I think not. Not this time, loving."

  Even as Balfour hurriedly removed her clothes, Maldie used an equal haste to pull off his. They both cried out with delight as their flesh touched for the first time in too long. Maldie could not get enough of the feel of his strong body pressed against hers, his warm skin beneath her hands, and the touch of his mouth as he feverishly covered her body with kisses. She tried to return each caress but their lovemaking soon grew wild, their desperate need for each other stealing away all ability to linger in the heady time that comes before the culmination of their desire.

  When he finally joined their bodies, Maldie clung to him with all of her strength. She tried to pull him ever deeper within her, meeting each of his hard thrusts with a ferocity of her own. Even as her body convulsed with the power of her release and she called out his name, she felt him shudder with his own, his cry blending with hers. She closed her eyes and held him close, fighting to cling to the pleasure they had just shared, that blinding delight that could so easily disperse all fear and uncertainty.

  With the return of her senses came an awareness of the chill in the late afternoon air. Maldie also became painfully aware of her nakedness. She hastily sat up and tugged on her chemise. For the first time since they had become lovers, Maldie felt the harsh sting of embarrassment. They had truly let passion rule this time, allowing it to hurl themselves into each other's arms while there was still so much left unsaid between them, so many troubles unsolved and questions unanswered. She recalled that she did not even know why he had hunted her down. Now that her blood had cooled, she feared she had made a grave error in judgment. One last taste of passion would not be enough to ease the pain of being a fool and, if Balfour had come only to bed her, that was exactly what she would be.

  "Ye are thinking the worst of me, arenae ye, lass,” Balfour said as he sat up and wrapped his plaid around himself. “Trust me when I tell ye, loving, that I wouldnae ride so long a way just for a wee tussle upon the grass, sweet as it was."

  "Sorry,” she murmured, casting him a weak smile. “As always I acted upon what I wanted, then, after I rushed ahead and was beyond redemption, I paused to wonder if I had done the right thing or
the wise thing.” She laughed, a short, self-abasing laugh. “I ne'er do the right thing."

  Balfour pulled her into his arms. “Oh, aye, ye do."

  "I betrayed you,” she whispered.

  "Nay, although I did see it as such for a wee while. I wish I could find the words to tell ye how verra sorry I am for any pain I caused ye with my mistrust, but what ye did wasnae betrayal. Ye told no one my secrets and helped no one to harm me in any way. Ye didnae act against me or my clan in even the smallest way. Ye just lied."

  She stared at Balfour in surprise. “Just lied?"

  "Aye, and ye did a poor job of it, too. Ye twisted your tongue into knots trying not to tell me the truth, yet not tell too big a lie. ‘Twas mostly half-truths or no answers at all.” He idly began to try and tidy her hair, knowing it was useless, but enjoying the feel of her thick, soft hair too much to stop. “After I calmed enough to see beyond my anger and hurt, I looked more closely at all ye had told me. I thought o'er every talk we had shared and every answer ye had given to all the questions I had asked. What lies ye did tell me were ones meant to hide the truth. Ye didnae want me to ken who your father was. And ye were right to hide that truth from me. Once I kenned it I would ne'er have trusted you, ne'er have believed that ye would do naught to help him.” He shook his head. “'Tis unfair to hold a child at fault for what was done by a mother, a father, or any other kinsmon. I ken it weel. Howbeit, learning that Beaton had sired you would have made me do exactly that."

  "After all Beaton had done, ye cannae blame yourself for that.” She reached up to stroke his cheek, delighted beyond words that he had forgiven her for her deception, that he even understood why she had deceived him. “I told ye so little about myself ye had naught with which to decide my guilt or innocence. And would ye have believed me if I had told ye that I ached to kill the mon, that I was there to fulfill a vow of revenge?"

  Balfour grimaced. “Nay. ‘Tis hard to believe that a child would kill her own father, bastard though Beaton was. ‘Twould also have been hard to believe that a wee lass such as your own self would do so."