Highland Wish

by Colleen MacGregor

  I laughed a little then. There may be hundreds of years’ difference between us, but I could safely say that mothers haven’t changed a bit.

  “No. There’s no one.”

  I can see the wheels turning. As she’s choosing her words, I pick up a lily that’s fallen to the ground and inhale its fragrance. Looking over my shoulder, I see the sly grin on her face. Lady MacGregor is up to something.

  “I would like to hold a week of games. We’ll call the clans together to compete. It would be a festive celebration.” She’s looking at me now.

  “Well I think that sounds grand. I’d be happy to help,” I say. It actually sounds like fun.

  “Well now, that’s perfect.”

  Said the spider to the fly. Why did I get the distinct impression I’d just walked into a trap?

  “As I mentioned there’d be games, yes? And as with games, there must be a prize.”

  Okay . . . She’s working up to something.

  “You shall be that prize, Katherine.”

  I stop in my tracks and give Lady MacGregor my full attention. “Excuse me? How will I be a prize? I have nothing to offer.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. The games will be a great celebration, and we’ll find you a husband. Doesn’t that please you?”

  “With all due respect, my lady, I don’t see how I’d be a prize for any man. I have neither wealth, nor title, nor land.”

  “Katherine, you’ve saved my son, and as a reward, Lord MacGregor has given you a dowry.”

  This is not happening. “It sounds as though you’ve got this all worked out.” Even to my ears, I sound angry. I don’t want to be auctioned off like a prize cow.

  “I only wish to find you a husband. Do you not wish for a family of your own? I see you with Duncan. You adore him and he you.”

  “I don’t know what I want right now, milady. Your offer is very generous but I am already imposing on you.” This is crazy talk. From what I can remember, women are viewed as property. That does not appeal to me. I’m not property to be owned.

  “I see the wheels turning, Katherine. The decision has been made, and word is already on its way to the clans. The games will begin in a month. That will give us time to prepare and the clans time to travel. You should be excited. Shall I tell you about some of the men I think will fight for you?”

  Suddenly weary, I need time alone to think. “Lady MacGregor, I think I need some time. Please excuse me.” And with that I leave her in the garden. She would think I’m rude, I’m sure, but I can’t take it anymore. My life is out of my hands. How do women do this? At home, I had a career, my own space, and made my own decisions. Here, in this time, I have no independence. If I can’t get back, my life is in the hands of the MacGregor’s and soon will be in the hands of a husband—a husband who will win me like a prize at a fair. The thought is horrifying. While I can admit that the idea of a certain man fighting to win my hand is rather romantic, I can’t quite commit to it. I don’t belong here. It would never work. Too many conflicting thoughts race through my mind as I walk down the garden path to the pond.

  Sitting in the grass, my cheeks heat and tears come to my eyes. I don’t usually cry but I can’t help but feel out of control and helpless. The breeze is a faint whisper against my skin. “I need to get my act together,” I say aloud to the trees. I can’t seem to move, rooted to this spot like the lovely birch swaying in the breeze. And that’s when I feel him.

  “Katherine.” I sob more at the sound of his voice. Funny how I know it already. As though I’ve always known it.

  “Go away, Angus. Please,” I say not unkindly.

  I didn’t hear him approach. I don’t even look up as he stands in front of me. He kneels down and places his plaid around my shoulders. After fastening it, he stands and walks away. As the sound of his footsteps get further away, I wonder how he always manages to know when I need him.

  After having a good cry, I realize I need to face my situation. Do I try to find the fountain or do I stay and let some man win me like a stuffed toy at a carnival? I already know my answer, but even as I think about going back, a pair of black eyes flash into my mind and my body clenches. I take his plaid and bring it to my nose. God, it smells like him. How can I go back? How can I let another man win me? What does Angus want with me? I have more questions than answers.

  I head back into the castle and roam around. There are beautiful paintings on the wall framed in gold depicting ancestors and hunting scenes. I’m sure there are stories to go with each painting. I will have to ask Lady MacGregor to give me a tour so I can ask her about them.

  I walk into a familiar room. The library. It’s absolutely gorgeous. There are so many books, I want to take one and curl up in the window seat and read.

  That’s when I feel it, the prickling on the back of my neck like someone is watching. I don’t have to turn to know who it is.

  Angus is standing over the desk looking down at a scroll of some kind. The room, although huge, feels much too small. It would be a quiet, peaceful place if not for the pounding of my heart. Dark hair to his shoulders, he had two small braids at his temples. Face with a day’s stubble, deep blue eyes, and impossibly long eyelashes. Arms crossed over his chest, thick leather wristbands, and a massive sword at his back, he looks every bit the warrior.

  When I realize I’ve been staring, I try looking around. Caught in is gaze, he reminds me of a lion and I the deer. My traitorous cheeks heating, I know they’re pink now.

  “This is a lovely library. I wonder if Lady MacGregor would let me borrow a book?” I feel foolish, but he makes me nervous. Like a dance, I move toward a lovely book and Angus moves toward me. I pull a black book with beautiful gold lettering from the shelf. I can’t read Latin but I do see Ovid on the cover. I open it and flip through some pages.

  In a low deep voice like growl of an engine, he recites “Pygmalion” in Latin. I stare the page but he doesn’t. He looks at me.

  I remember bits of the poem. Pygmalion is enchanted by the statue. He touches it to see if it is indeed flesh. He kisses it and is kissed back. He treats the statue like it’s a woman he can touch and talk with and kiss, and even make love to.

  Standing close, yet not touching I can feel his eyes trace the curve of my neck. I raise my hand to touch where his eyes have surely branded me.

  The library is silent but with him so close, my heart thunders in my ears. His voice barely a whisper, he leans ever so slightly, his hand braced on the shelf next to me, “Would you yield beneath my touch, Katherine?”

  I want to drop the book, grab him, and pull his mouth to mine. I need to taste him, no longer needing words. This man certainly doesn’t need to love poetry to woo women. He’s lethal in silence, never mind whispering Ovid in my ear.

  I can’t look up from the page. Instead I stare at it and pray he’d leave me alone. No such luck.

  As if he feels my need, his thumb caresses the place where my neck meets my shoulder. “Is this ivory indeed flesh?”

  I shiver and lean forward as if some invisible force pulls me toward him. Angus stops and gently slips his fingers around my neck so now I’m flush against his body.

  “Katherine.” My blood sings for him.

  Unable to keep my eyes from his, I turn.

  A young voice breaks the spell, “Angus are ye here?”

  I step back to escape his grip but he won’t release me.

  “I’ll have you.” With those whispered words, he drops his hand.

  Duncan rushes through the doorway.

  “There you are! Reading poetry while the real men practice in the yard. Och, Angus, I never thought I’d see the day.” Duncan needles Angus with a big grin on his face.

  I smile at that.

  Angus faces me now. “Lady Katherine likes poetry. Don’
t you, love?”

  I want to smack that sexy crooked grin right off his face. Arrogant man. God, I want to do very bad things to him.

  “Nay, I think she’d rather see you fight than listen to you mangle some silly poetry. C’mon, let’s go.”

  With that, Angus inclines his head and bids me a good day. I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. As if the library wasn’t my favorite place before, the pleasure of reading now holds new meaning.

  Closing the book, I return to my room and rest.

  Chapter 5

  “Hurry now! We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Mary says as she takes my hand.

  “Come now, dear, we’ve got to prepare you for dinner. The hall will be full of folks that want to meet ye.” And as I come full awake, the room again fills with a barrage of women. Each has a purpose: one to tend to the fire, one to bathe me, one to wash my hair. I’m at once embarrassed by all the attention and enjoying the pampering.

  The ritual of primping in the seventeenth century is much the same as primping in 2017. Once Lady MacGregor gets my reluctant consent to prepare for the evening’s festivities, a flurry of activity ensues. I’m all but thrown into a large tub in my room. Two baths in one day; it’s quite decadent.

  The women set the tub in front of the fireplace, and add fresh rose petals to the water. They must have picked them from Lady MacGregor’s garden. As I soak in front of a room full of women, they choose gowns they think suit me, often citing my eye color or complexion. It’s as if I’m not even in the room.

  I sigh as I rest my chin on my bent knees. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I close my eyes and think about what I’ve left behind—my job and my apartment. My friends will be worried about me. What will they do when they find my shoes and clutch on the bench by the fountain? As the heat of the water washes away my melancholy, Claire makes an appearance. Taking a seat on the bed, she looks over the dress selections.

  Wonderful warm water is poured over my head. Having my hair washed is indeed divine. I delight in the warm water sluicing over my skin. Over my shoulders and between my breasts, the heat teases my already sensitive skin. My nipples pebble, and I shiver—not with cold, but with anticipation. My thoughts drift to Angus. Thinking of his lips blazing a path over my skin makes me ache. I imagine the sensation of his stubble scraping my skin as his fingers dig into my thighs and it makes me squirm. I wriggle in the tub sending ripples through the water. Though I’m in a room full of women, my hand reaches down my stomach and lingers there as the maid rinses my hair again. My fingers tingle and twitch and glide down between my legs to find that place that aches.

  I need something, or in this case someone, to extinguish that yearning deep inside of me. No, that’s not entirely true. Not just anyone can relieve me. There is only one man I want, and I’m fairly certain that having him once won’t be enough.

  It wouldn’t be a gentle coupling. He would destroy me with each kiss. Each punishing thrust a reminder that he owns me. As reluctant as I am to admit that, he does. And what’s more confusing is that I want this. My answer would be Yes, I’m yours. I want him to bind me to him.

  “Katherine, your face is awfully rosy. Is the water too hot for you?”

  My hand stills, and I open my eyes to a roomful of women staring curiously at me. I must be a sight.

  “Oh, no. It’s fine. I’m just thinking about tonight.” Understatement of the year.

  Brenda comes to stand by the tub and holds out towel signaling the end of my bath. Carefully and no longer self-conscious that a roomful of women tend to me, I step into the arms of the maid.

  “Lady Katherine, yer as tall as a man,” one of the maids comments as she works the towel down my legs.

  “Hush, Brenda,” Mary scolds, “Mind your manners.”

  “It’s okay. I am tall. I like it.” I smile at Brenda to let her know I’m not insulted.

  “There’s a painting hanging in the Green Lady’s room at Crathes. You’ve the same look of her, fair skin, rosy cheeks, green eyes. Of course, you’ve got gold in your hair from the sun and she’s got dark locks.” Brenda takes my measure as she finishes drying me.

  I’m then dried and dressed in a light cotton robe as the women decide on my dress in the end, my “personal stylists” choose a lovely peach silk. As I’m dressed, I can’t help but notice how snug it is.

  “Um, ladies, is this going to fit?” I don’t see how they’re going to get this dress on me. It defies all laws of physics.

  “Certainly, now stand up straight and hold on,” Mary says matter-of-factly.

  “Hold on? Wait, hold on to what?” And as I’m instructed to hold onto the post of the bed, the laces of the corset are pulled so tight I’m sure I hear one of my ribs snap.

  “Holy Jesus!” I cry, and the room full of women erupts in laughter. Glad I can amuse them. Rubbing my middle and trying not to breathe, which isn’t difficult considering how tight the dress is, I look down at myself. I have to admit, it’s a gorgeous dress. A confection of peach silk over a cream slip; it does wonderful things for my figure. As long as I don’t need to breathe the rest of the night, I’ll be fine.

  Really, are you sure this dress is decent?” I turn to the ladies in my room and they smile at me.

  “Hush now, yer lovely. You’ll be fighting them off with a stick.” And Mary laughs, “I heard ye beat Angus with a wee stick.”

  “Is nothing sacred?” I murmur.

  “Oh, you’ve caused quite a stir, Katherine.” Claire hands me a glass of wine, and I take a hearty sip as Margaret surveys me in the dress. As Claire admires her handiwork, the drink leaves a warm trail down my throat and settles my nerves. As I pace around the room of women, my thoughts wander to life outside in the courtyard. Above the yard and ever vigilant, there are armed guards on the wall equipped with bows and arrows. Below, I find massive horses towing carts filled with hay and goods to be sold or traded. Off in the distance and never far are the green hills: the rugged beauty that is Scotland herself.

  I imagine Angus walking toward me through the heather and over the cobbled stones. His eyes devour me. My breath quickens and my body tingles in anticipation. Bringing my glass to my lips, I indulge in more of the castle stock, and I realize that I’m very warm all of a sudden. Whether it’s the wine or thoughts of Angus, I lean out of the window slightly to catch a bit of fresh air.

  I hear my name called in the background by an annoyed maid.

  “Katherine Cameron!” Mary admonishes, and pulls me back from the window from which I was leaning, “be careful or you’ll fall to yer death.”

  “Sorry Mary,” I reply and hold out my glass for more of the lovely wine. “May I have some more wine, please?”

  “Only if ye promise not to lean out any more windows,” Mary says. “Now sit and be still.” Mary motions for one of the maids to refill my glass. I could get used to this.

  “Lady Katherine, you’re awfully flushed. Is it the wine or were ye thinking on a certain man, perhaps?” Brenda says as she combs the tangles from my wet hair.

  “Angus?” I say staring into my empty glass, “I wasn’t thinking of him. Just admiring the view.”

  “I didna say his name, but now that you mention it,” Brenda’s voice laced with amusement, “there’s certainly been talk of you and the warrior since your arrival.”

  “Me and Angus? I don’t see why,” I say. “He’s very handsome but surely he has many admirers.”

  “Aye, that he has lass,” Mary chimes in, “but none have caught his eye. None until recently, of course.” She smiles as one of the maids fills my glass.

  I sip the fruity wine and let my mind wander to a certain warrior, a new favorite pastime of mine. I begin to respond but one of the maids points to the chair and says, “Set yerself there and let’s tend to yer hair.” Pouting, I am ushered i
nto a seat by the window. From my room, I can see the courtyard and the activity below. The torches are being lit, and if ever I believed in magic, tonight would surely be the night. I say as much and the women agree.

  Chapter 6

  Brushing my hair, Margaret remarks, “It will be a lovely evening, but have a care. Our captain willna like it if his guard flirt with ye. Connor especially. He’s the one that bested him in training today. Angus will already be sore at him for that.”

  “Aye, watch out for Connor, lass, he’s charming and handsome and always gets what he wants. That he’s competitive with the Captain makes this a tricky evening. Dinna worry though, we’ll be there to guide ye.”

  Excellent. With such a ringing endorsement, what could possibly go wrong?

  I haven’t had my hair brushed since I was a young girl. My mother would brush it. It’s a luxurious feeling. I ask Janette, the maid tending to my hair, if my hair is going up into pins.

  “Nay, milady, ye’ll be wearing it down tonight. It looks so bonny. Yer so lucky to have such lovely hair. ‘Tis like silk, it is.” She hands me a mirror and I recognize the eyes, but the rest looks like a beautiful stranger. As I touch my face and hair, I had to admit that it’s indeed silky. I can’t help but think that these women would make a fortune selling their services in modern times.

  There’s a little knock at the door and Janette opens it. Duncan enters, smiling as usual.

  I turn in my seat and he stops mid-step.

  “Och Lady Katherine, yer verra beautiful.” Duncan remarks.

  “Thank you very much, kind sir. And you look very handsome yourself,” I say and mean it. He’ll be the next laird of this castle. I’ve witnessed his protectiveness firsthand so I can see him caring for those that live under his charge. My eyes are drawn to the lovely crest on his sporran.