A Hellion for the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  Alexander tutted, placing the paper flat on his desk and focusing all this attention on the Man-at-arms now. “An’ what would ye have me do about it, eh? Forget it ever happened? Just let her continue thinkin’ she can do or say whatever she wants to whoever she wants?”

  Nathair actually rolled his eyes. “One, ye ken that is nae true. An’ two, even if it was, so what? This is nae about who’s right or wrong. It’s about ye choppin’ off yer own nose to spite yer face. Ye’re miserable, an’ ye ken Cicilia wants to apologize, but ye’re too proud to get over yerself and listen.”

  Alexander scoffed. “Away wi’ ye. Ye dinnae ken what ye’re talkin’ about.”

  “Oh, aye?” Nathair asked, folding his arms. “So, I have nae kent ye since we were bairns, then? Jeanie dinnae grow up wi’ Cicilia? The whole Castle has nae spent a week under a dark cloud?”

  “If ye came here to lecture me—” Alexander started.

  “I did,” Nathair told him unrepentantly. “Because ye need a lecturin’. But there’s another reason I’m here as well.”

  “Aye?”

  “Aye. I’m meetin’ wi’ Munroe today. Ye ken, Sinclair’s war dog,” Nathair told him, making no attempt to hide the obvious distaste in his voice. “Apparently the Sassenachs keep tryin’ to cross into their territory an’ he wants our clan’s help. As if we’ve got time for such nonsense, but I have to do what I have to do.”

  Alexander sighed. “Sinclair’s Man-at-arms is a good man, Nathair. I ken ye dinnae like him, but please try to show some respect when ye meet wi’ him. I dinnae want ye showin’ me up again.”

  “All the more reason for ye to come with me,” Nathair said brightly. “Come on, man. A distraction may do ye some good.”

  Alexander scowled at the implication, but he wasn’t fool enough to pretend that Nathair did not have a point. He had been moping all these days, and every time he tried to move on, in his thoughts, all he saw was Cicilia hurling those poisonous accusations again and again.

  Besides, if Munroe was coming, it was very likely he’d bring the Laird of Sinclair with him. Perhaps Sinclair would even bring the children. That would be pleasant. It had been some time since Alexander had seen his niece and nephew.

  One o’ the most surprisin’ things about this fight wi’ Cicilia is how much I’ve missed the racket her wee siblings make runnin’ about the place. It’ll be nice to see some happy bairns.

  “Aye,” he said. “Aye, all right. I’ll come. Give me an hour to change, an’ I’ll ride out wi’ ye. Where are we headed?”

  “Oh,” said Nathair with a grin. “Just down into the village.”

  Alexander frowned. “But it takes days an’ days to get between the Sinclair lands an’ here. It’s impossible that they’d be here unless—”

  “Unless some smart lad invited them days ago without tellin’ ye, aye,” Nathair agreed innocently. “See ye in an hour.”

  Before Alexander could even react in surprise, much less reprimand him, the Man-at-arms had slipped through the door and left him alone.

  It took a mixture of bargaining, wheedling, and threatening on Jeanie’s part, but Cicilia finally agreed to put aside her daily mission and accompany her friend. Jeanie had been going on and on for days about a woman she’d met in town and become fast friends with, and she insisted that Cicilia meet her.

  Well, it cannae do any harm, I suppose. An’ if she’s from the clan, perhaps I can persuade her o’ Alexander’s innocence, an’ all.

  The hardest part was leaving the twins behind, but one of the stable lads insisted that he and his team were happy to keep them for the day. The children had been begging to play amongst the animals since they arrived at the castle, and the stable master and his team had taken quite a shine to them.

  “Dinnae ye worry, Cil,” Annys told her, her eyes shining with excitement. “I’m gonnae work real hard helpin’ to muck out the horses, an’ Mr. Patterson an’ Mr. Jamieson are gonnae tell ye I’ve been such a good lass!”

  “Aye!” Jamie agreed. “They’ll nae be able to believe just how much work we O’Donnel bairns can do!”

  And so, with no other form of protest available to her, Cicilia had dressed simply and joined Jeanie on a stroll down to the village—this time, without any goal in mind. It felt strange to approach it without an agenda after how she’d spent the last week.

  Freein’, in an odd way.

  Jeanie looped her arm through Cicilia’s as they walked. “I feel like it’s been such a long time since the two o’ us were able to just spend time together,” she chirped. “Are ye nae glad?”

  “O’ course I am, Jeanie,” Cicilia assured her. “I just have a lot on me mind. I’m always happy to be spendin’ time wi’ ye.”

  Jeanie smiled sweetly, and Cicilia suddenly felt a looming sense of foreboding. This wasn’t, she suddenly realized, the innocent walk she’d thought. Jeanie had something to say, and Cicilia wasn’t getting away until her friend had a chance to say it.

  She sighed. “Out wi’ it, then.”

  Jeanie shrugged. “I’m just worried about ye, is all. Ye’ve been awfie down since yer tiff wi’ Alexander. Ye’ve told me yer side, an’ Nathair’s told me Alexander’s, an’ frankly I think ye’re both bein’ a wee bit ridiculous.”

  Cicilia pursed her lips, frustrated. “Aye, I ken I was ridiculous. That’s why I keep tryin’ to fix things. But the stubborn fool will nae listen to a word I have to say, nay matter what I do. What do ye want me to do, lock meself in a room wi’ him?”

  “If that’s what it takes? Aye,” Jeanie replied seriously. “It’s nae only the two o’ ye affected. The twins ken there’s somethin’ odd about yer daily trips down to the village, an’ me an’ Nathair are sick to the back teeth o’ seein’ ye both so miserable.”

  She didn’t pull her arm away, but Cicilia did speak a little more coldly as she said, “I dinnae ken what ye want me to say. In case ye have nae noticed, Alexander is the Laird o’ our clan.”

  “An’ in case ye have nae noticed, ye’re Cicilia O’Donnel. Ye dinnae cower to any man. Ye own up to yer mistakes an’ ye celebrate yer victories. Ye dinnae let rumors get ye down. If ye’d have acted like ye’re actin’ now for the last year, the farm would scarcely be standin’ anymore,” Jeanie told her, a little more firmly than she’d spoken before.

  Cicilia didn’t reply. What could she say to that?

  Aye, I’ve been operatin’ in secret right under Alexander’s nose all this time, but this is different. Now I’ve hurt him personally when we were—whatever we were.

  Because that was gone now too, she knew. The feelings that she’d allowed to sneak into her heart regarding the Laird, the soft happiness she felt whenever he smiled, the way his touch made her body feel—all of that, she would need to forget.

  Ye were startin’ to fall in love wi’ him, ye silly lass. An’ what good would o’ come o’ that? Better that he hates ye now than ye foolishly break yer own heart later.

  But she still needed to clear his name, at least of the rumors that regarded her. She owed him that much. She could not—would not—give up her farm to a stranger, but she would keep it on her own terms, and without dragging Alexander through the mud.

  The women walked in silence until Cicilia saw the village gates appear up ahead. They walked towards them with purpose, heading to a little tavern just inside the boundaries, when Jeanie said, “Oh, I almost forgot to tell ye somethin’.”

  “Hm?”

  “Nathair an’ I are to be wed,” she said casually.

  Cicilia stopped where she was and turned to stare at her friend. “Ye’re to be what? An’ ye dinnae think to mention that before now?”

  “Well, he only asked me yesterday,” Jeanie replied with a defensive shrug. “An’ I have nae talked to me Mither yet, or him to me faither. An’ we need to ask Alexander’s permission to move me permanently into the castle, too. Och, an’ there’s Grandda to think about…”

  “Jeanie!” Cicilia interrupted, placing
her hands firmly on her friend’s shoulder. “Are ye seriously tellin’ me ye’re gonnae marry the Man-at-arms as casually as if ye’re tellin’ me it’ll rain on the morrow?!”

  “I hope it doesn’ae rain on the morrow,” Jeanie said seriously. “I’m gonnae have to send a messenger to me parents, an’ I’d feel awfie bad if it was pourin’ while he traveled all the way.”

  Cicilia stared at her friend for a long moment, then laughed and pulled her into an embrace. “Well, all right then,” she said, hugging her tight. “Congratulations, ye mad woman. He’ll make a fine husband.”

  Jeanie finally let out a happy little squeak. It was clear to Cicilia that her friend had been keeping that locked up all morning, desperate to share the news, and now that she had, the happiness was radiating from her. “Thank ye, Cil,” she replied, hugging her tightly back. “I’m so glad ye approve.”

  Cicilia felt happy tears in her eyes. Finally, some good news in the midst of all this mess. She’d almost forgotten what that felt like. “O’ course I approve. Nathair is a good man.”

  “He’s a great man,” Jeanie replied adoringly. She pulled back from the hug, took both of Cicilia’s hands in her own before saying, “An’ dinnae ye worry yer heart, me love. Ye’ll be next.”

  I doubt that, somehow. Maybe, if I had nae been so foolish…but nay, I cannae dwell on the what-could-have-beens. I’ll drive meself mad.

  The very short remainder of their trip was spent enthusing about Jeanie’s upcoming nuptials, and then they arrived at the tavern. This early in the day, it was still relatively empty, just a few people breaking their fast late or having an early luncheon before returning to the fields. There were a couple of older men at the bar, who Cicilia was half-convinced were permanent fixtures here.

  She scanned the room and found the person they were here to meet almost immediately. She was the only woman in the tavern besides Cicilia and Jeanie, and she stuck out like a sore thumb.

  The woman had hair that danced the line between brown and blonde, and her face was covered in fair freckles, not unlike Cicilia’s own. Perhaps that was why Cicilia felt a shiver of recognition, despite being certain she’d never seen this woman before in her life.

  She was a pretty woman, though not unduly beautiful, the kind who could choose whether she stood at the forefront or faded into the background of any situation based on her poise and dress. When she caught Cicilia’s gaze, there was kindness and intelligence shining from behind her deep blue eyes.

  She looks like she could read me heart an’ soul at a glance.

  The man with her, sitting protectively close, was rather unremarkable. Dark hair and beard, dark eyes, and a plain face wearing an extremely serious expression. Cicilia figured he was a fighter and imagined that he probably was not a man of many words.

  “Kitty!” Jeanie called out, waving. The woman smiled and waved back, and the two of them approached the table. “Kitty, this is Cicilia, me best friend. Cicilia, this is Kitty, an’ this is her…”

  “Me friend, Iain,” Kitty replied with a gentle smile. “Forgive him, he doesn’ae talk much. It’s a pleasure to meet ye, Cicilia.”

  Cicilia shook her hand then immediately blushed, realizing how lower-class and mannish the gesture had been. If it bothered Kitty, it did not show on her face.

  As they sat, Cicilia noted that Kitty seemed much older than Jeanie—older than Cicilia herself, too, by a fair bit. She was perhaps in her mid-thirties, though she still had the blossom of youth about her features.

  “Kitty is from the Sinclair lands,” Jeanie explained happily. “She’s new in town, too, just like us.”

  “Well, nae new,” Kitty corrected. “I used to ken this place well, a long time ago.”

  What would bring a clearly upper-class woman a’ the way to this village an’ cause her to befriend me Jeanie?

  But out loud, all Cicilia said was, “It’s a fine pleasure to meet wi’ ye, Kitty. Any friend o’ Jeanie’s is a friend o’ mine.”

  “Aye?” Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow. “An’ have ye been makin’ a lot o’ friends since ye came here to the Gallagher clan, Cicilia?”

  Cicilia blinked. “What?”

  “I ken who ye are, Cicilia O’Donnel,” Kitty went on. She was still talking in that light tone, but there was something behind it now that unnerved Cicilia greatly. “An’ I ken all the rumors about ye. Is it true ye’ve been takin’ advantage o’ the Laird? Is it true ye’ve been helpin’ to turn him against his people?”

  “Kitty…” Jeanie started, but neither of the other women looked at her.

  Cicilia narrowed her eyes. “I dinnae ken who ye think ye are, but we just met. Ye’ve nae right to be accusin’ me o’ anythin’.”

  Kitty nodded thoughtfully, tapping on her own chin. “That’s true, I dinnae ken anythin’ about ye. An’ in any case, Alexander MacKinnon would nae need a pretty face to turn him against his people.”

  “What are ye tryin’ to say?” Cicilia demanded, immediately on the defensive.

  I will nae let this stranger storm these lands an’ start insultin’ Alexander!

  “Well, I ken about how feckless the lad is,” Kitty shrugged. “Iain tells me he hears all sorts from the soldiers in the Gallagher army. The man cares more about order than people, an’ he’s got a tax receipt where his heart should be.”

  “That’s not true at all!” Cicilia said sharply. “Alexander is different from other people, aye, but he is nae bad. He cares—he cares deeply. He’s got all this pressure on him to be a good Laird, an’ he was only a little older than a bairn when he got the role. He comes across as cold because he’s guarded, but he’s got one o’ the biggest hearts o’ anyone I’ve ever met. He cares about his people, an’ he’d give up his life before he let them suffer for his own gain.”

  When she stopped, she was breathing heavily, anger bringing color to her cheeks. Both Jeanie and Kitty were staring at her, the former in wonder, the latter with a tilted head and narrowed eyes as though she was trying to work something out.

  “Why do ye care so much?” Kitty asked finally. “Eh?”

  “I like the truth,” Cicilia replied firmly. She couldn’t help but notice that Iain’s attention was still on the door, wary, as though he was expecting it to blow in and an attack to occur at any second.

  “An’ ye like the Laird,” Kitty said decisively. “How long have ye been in love wi’ him?”

  A rush of hot and cold went suddenly from the tip of Cicilia’s head to the bottom of her toe, filling each and every space in her body in-between, making her feel as though she was on fire and on ice all at once.

  Love? She thinks I’m in love wi’ him? What can this stranger ken? How could she say such things? An’ why can I nae bring meself to tell her she’s bein’ ridiculous?

  She opened her mouth, with no idea of what answer was about to come out.

  Before she could, though, the door banged open, and Iain’s hand tightened on the pommel of his sword. Tension filled the air, and suddenly, from the doorway, there came a horrified gasp.

  Chapter 22

  Familia Supra Omnia

  Family Over Everything

  “We’re meetin’ Munroe in a tavern?” Alexander asked. He hated visiting the taverns at this time of day, where the drunkards sat sadly waiting for the barman to allow them another sip of nectar.

  “Aye,” Nathair said, pointing just ahead of them. “This very tavern, in fact. It’s a nice place. Ye’d ken that if ye visited the village now an’ again.”

  Alexander bristled in discomfort. “Ye ken how busy I am, Nathair. I dinnae have time to be takin’ jaunts out for drinkin’ whenever I like.”

  He couldn’t be sure, but he was almost certain that the sound Nathair made after that was a dismissive snort. Before he could accuse his friend, Nathair had pushed ahead and opened the door. Alexander sighed and shook his head but followed.

  I probably should nae let him get away wi’ all this rude behavior whenever he feels like it.
If I was any other Laird, he’d be subject to discipline.

  He’d never do such a thing, of course, but it was nice to bitterly imagine for a moment until he entered the tavern, and what he saw took over his mind completely.

  Her red hair with that maddening black streak was the first thing to draw his eye when he walked in. Her back was to the door, sitting beside the long brown braid that indicated Jeanie.

  O’ course Cicilia is here. I come for a distraction, an’ here she is right this moment. It’s as though she exists to spite me.