Highland Lover

by Hannah Howell

  She did trust him, she realized. She trusted him to protect her and the children she would give him, to be kind to her, and to provide for her. So he was not perfect. As Fiona said—what man or woman was? And she had forgotten her second promise to Fiona until right now. Fiona had asked that she be careful not to cross that line from being reasonably difficult to win to being pigheaded and impossible. Holding Gregor at a distance for something he had explained and apologized for was definitely being pigheaded. There was also something she was surprised she had taken so long to understand. Gregor was not a man to repeat his mistakes.

  “Oh, lass, my sweet treasure, I have missed ye,” he whispered against her neck as he unlaced her bodice with shaking fingers.

  “I have missed ye, too, Gregor,” she said in an equally quiet voice.

  “Have ye forgiven me, then?”

  “Oh, aye,” she said and meant it, the last of her resistance fading. “I was just afraid.”

  “That I would treat ye unkindly?”

  “That I couldnae trust my own judgment.”

  “Ah, I can understand that fear verra weel indeed.”

  He slipped his hand inside her bodice and stroked her breast, trembling from the strength of the hunger raging inside of him. She trembled, too, and arched into his caress, sending his passion soaring. She had come back to him, he thought dazedly, and felt an emptiness that had haunted him for weeks start to fade away.

  Feeling his hands on her body again was pure bliss, Alana thought, but she grasped enough sanity to recall where they were. The gardens in the middle of the day were not the place for this type of reunion. Groaning softly as frustration gripped her, she put her hands on his chest and gave him a slight push. The look he gave her was one of crushing disappointment and Alana suddenly realized that, although it might not be the love she wanted, Gregor did feel something for her. She could feel his desire within her, smell the heat of his on his skin, and she should have known that such a thing would not be possible unless the man felt more than a simple lusting for her.

  “We are in the garden, Gregor,” she said, not surprised to hear the husky note of passion in her voice, for her blood still ran hot with it.

  “Aye, we are.” He frowned and looked around as he slowly came to his senses.

  “And ’tis the middle of the day.”

  “Aye, so it is.”

  “And I can hear your brothers on the training ground nay so verra far away.”

  “The bastards.”

  She laughed and was pleased to see him grin. He shook his head and relaced her bodice with such a heavy sigh of regret that she had to laugh again. It felt good to laugh, to feel that joy he had always stirred within her. She had allowed herself to become mired in self-pity, fear, and doubt for too long.

  As he helped her sit up and then hugged her close to his side, she considered telling him that she carried his child. After a moment’s thought she discarded the idea. There were a few things still left unsaid and undone between them, and she did not want the fact that she was with child to make him do or say anything he did not feel wholeheartedly. She was going to keep a secret from him, she realized, and almost grinned.

  Gregor gently stroked her cheek, pleased to see the glow in her eyes again. Whatever had troubled her so had truly faded. In a way, he had simply been standing in place as she had struggled with her thoughts and feelings. Now the true wooing could begin.

  Suddenly he felt almost shy. It was not so hard to speak pretty flatteries and give her little gifts in an effort to soothe the hurt he had dealt. Those would not be enough now, however. Now he was going to have to speak of his feelings, speak of the future and the thousands of other things that he had never spoken of with a woman before. He felt all the words he had thought of telling her dry up in his mouth.

  When had he become such a coward, he wondered? He loved this woman. He wanted her to sleep at his side every night. He wanted children with her. He wanted to know that she would be within reach whenever he needed to see her smile or touch her. Such things should not be hard to say aloud, and yet his throat had closed up, refusing to allow the words out of his mouth. Perhaps, he thought, he needed to practice saying them a few times before he actually spoke them to her. It seemed a foolish idea, but sitting there like a dumb ox was embarrassing.

  “We need to talk, lass,” he said.

  “Aye, we do.” She frowned, for he looked a little agitated and had gone somewhat pale. “Ye dinnae have another secret ye havenae told me, do ye, Gregor?” she asked nervously.

  “Nay,” he said firmly. “Jesu, lass, ye ken more about me than any woman e’er has. I cannae seem to shut up around ye.”

  She had to bite back a smile, for he sounded very disgruntled about that. “I like to ken what ye think and hear about what ye are doing.”

  “I feel the same about ye, lass.”

  He relaxed a bit, thinking that it might be possible to edge up to a confession of what was in his heart. Perhaps if he let the words out slowly, speaking of one hope and need at a time, it would not choke him so. Gregor had not considered how difficult it would be to bare his heart and soul, even to a woman he knew would never abuse the heart he wanted to set in her small hands. He could recall advising his brother Ewan on what to say and do concerning Fiona and cursed himself for a hypocrite. Advice was a lot easier to give than to take.

  The feel of Alana’s soft fingers stroking his cheek drew him from his thoughts and he smiled at her. She looked confused, and well she might. He had been pursuing her for a fortnight, and now that she had finally softened toward him, he stuttered and fumbled about like a beardless boy with his first lass. If this were happening to any of his brothers, he would have teased them without mercy. He thanked God none of them could see or hear him now.

  Deciding that Gregor was not going to be offering her any sweet words for the moment, Alana looked up at the sky. “’Tis time to go to the great hall for a meal.”

  “The nooning,” he murmured, unable to resist another taste of her.

  Alana shivered with pleasure as he kissed the curve of her neck. “The what?”

  “My father calls it the nooning.”

  “But the church calls it—”

  “Aye, but as my father says, he doesnae care what the church calls it. He isnae praying, he is eating.” He grinned against her skin when she laughed. “Ye are right. ’Tis time to eat, and if we dinnae hurry into the great hall, Fiona will probably eat everything herself.” He laughed when she lightly punched him on the arm, for she was grinning as she did so.

  He sat up straighter and grasped her by the shoulders. “I truly have missed ye sorely, love,” he said softly.

  “I have been right here at Scarglas, Gregor.”

  “Ye ken what I mean. And, aye, ye have been here, close at hand, but this is the first time that I have felt that ye are really back at my side.”

  She felt the pinch of guilt for the way she had been treating him but quickly shook it aside. He was not without fault in what had gone wrong between them. While it was true that she had clung to her hurt and anger longer than was necessary, he had put it there to begin with. Nevertheless, she felt some sympathy for him. Leaning forward, she kissed him, and after a moment of a gentle brushing of their lips, he pulled her hard against him and deepened the kiss. The strong passion they shared had obviously been left unsatisfied for too long for them to be able to indulge in sweet, gentle kisses.

  Then, so abruptly she almost fell off the bench, Gregor was yanked out of her arms. Alana blinked when she saw him dangling several inches off the ground. Then she looked up from the strange sight of Gregor’s feet in the air and saw who held him in a tight grip by the back of his jupon. Artan and Lucas had finally tracked her down.

  Chapter 20

  Gregor was so amazed to find himself dangling in the air that it took him a moment to realize that he could be in danger. He quickly looked at Alana to assure himself that she was safe only to find her glaring at the
man who held him by the back of his jupon. Something in her manner told him that he was not in any real danger, nor was she. He glanced over his shoulder at the two men behind him and stared into two angry faces. They were big; they were handsome; they were absolutely identical in looks.

  “Ah, Alana, I believe your brothers have arrived,” he drawled.

  “Put him down this minute,” Alana ordered her brothers and then cursed when Lucas shrugged and tossed Gregor at her feet. “That was unnecessary,” she snapped as she moved to help Gregor to his feet.

  Gregor smiled at her as she helped him brush the dirt off his clothes. “Mayhap ye should introduce me, love.”

  “These are my brothers. Artan is to the right and Lucas is to the left. These are the ones I was following when the Gowans grabbed me.”

  “I am more concerned about who was grabbing ye here in the garden,” said Artan.

  “This is Gregor MacFingal Cameron,” she said.

  “Cannae decide on a name?”

  “Ye have met my cousins and some of my brothers, so dinnae pretend ye dinnae understand,” said Gregor.

  Artan shrugged and then glared at him. “Mayhap ye would like to tell us what ye were doing with our sister?”

  “I believe I was kissing her.”

  “And I believe I am about to break your head.”

  Alana quickly stepped between Gregor and her brothers. She was used to their somewhat belligerent natures, but she was a little surprised at how Gregor was behaving. That last remark had been intended to goad her brothers, if she was any judge of such things. Under the circumstances it seemed to be a foolish thing to do.

  “There will be none of that,” she said.

  “That was what I was about to tell you,” drawled Lucas. “’Tis nay like ye to be sitting in a garden letting some fool put his tongue down your throat.”

  Although she blushed over such blunt language, Alana refused to back down. “I am a grown woman, and ’tis none of your business whose tongue I let go down my throat.” She nearly groaned. “I cannae believe I just said that,” she muttered and then glared at all three men, who looked far too amused. “How did ye find me? Did the mon we sent out to find ye bring ye here?”

  “Nay. He didnae find us. We found him.”

  “What do ye mean, ye found him?”

  “Perhaps we ought to go inside and talk about this as we eat,” said Gregor.

  “Now that sounds a fine idea,” said Artan, and he grabbed Alana by the hand and pulled her away from Gregor.

  Alana kicked her brother in the shin and quickly returned to Gregor’s side. She hooked her arm through Gregor’s and walked beside him as they started toward the keep. For a moment her brothers scowled after her, but then the thought of food softened their mood and set them moving. Within a few steps she found herself and Gregor following her brothers. Then she caught sight of two horses being led to the stables.

  “Gregor, arenae those our horses?” she asked, unable to believe her eyes.

  “Aye, they are. I wonder how they got here?” Gregor had the feeling her brothers had brought them, and the thought galled him beyond words.

  Looking for her brothers, she realized they had already entered the keep. “Those wretches have a few things to explain,” she muttered as she hurried into the keep, dragging a grinning Gregor along with her.

  Gregor could not help but be amused by the way Alana acted with her brothers. They were big men with a rough manner and, he suspected, very hard when they needed to be, yet she had absolutely no fear of them. Even though he found something about them that set his hackles up, he knew they would never hurt her and it was clear that she knew it, too. He suspected that one of the things he found so threatening about Alana’s brothers was that they might try to take her away from him and, worse, they had the right to do so.

  As they entered the great hall, Gregor saw his brother scowling at the way the Murray twins were charming Fiona, and he chuckled. He escorted Alana to her seat and sat down beside her while the two men were distracted. The identical glares they sent him as they sat down opposite him and Alana made him smile.

  “Gregor,” Alana said as she tugged on his sleeve, “isnae that the mon we sent to find my brothers and tell them that I was here? It certainly looks like young Simon.”

  Looking in the direction she was pointing, he saw his young half brother Simon, the one they had sent to find the Murray twins, sitting with a group of his brothers and laughing, and then Gregor looked at the Murrays. “Ye met up with Simon, I see.”

  “Aye, we found him at the Gowans,” said Artan as he filled his plate with venison and some of the vegetables Fiona was so fond of.

  “They had taken Simon for ransom?”

  “Aye, that was their game.”

  “Ye must let us repay ye for the cost of freeing the mon,” said Ewan.

  “Och, it didnae cost us anything,” Artan said almost sweetly as he spread a thick layer of honey on his bread.

  “Artan, I wouldnae wish ye to give yourself a brain fever, but do ye think ye could just tell your tale from beginning to end instead of forcing us to pull it out of ye word by word?” asked Alana, her sharp words spoken in a too-sweet voice as she fought to keep her temper.

  “Ye werenae beaten enough as a child.”

  “I was ne’er beaten. Now, please, the story about how ye found Simon and our horses.”

  “She is getting to be a verra ordering sort of female, dinnae ye think, Lucas?”

  “Artan!”

  “Aye,” replied Lucas, “but best ye do as she says ere she sets after ye with that wee dagger she is clutching so tightly.”

  “Weel, we followed ye to the Gowans’ keep and heard all that had happened. The tale of your escape is a favorite one of the men in the alehouse. ’Tis there we heard about this new fellow they had captured, and so we went to have a wee word with them. We convinced them that it would be in their best interest to give us the horses they had stolen from ye and Gregor MacFingal and that, if they didnae mind, we would be taking the mon they had tossed in the oubliette with us as weel, for we believed that they had played that game long enough. Then we headed here, for young Simon was certain this would be where this mon would take ye.”

  Alana stared at her brother as she fought the urge to hit him over the head with her heavy tankard—repeatedly. She knew he could speak well when he chose to and could weave a tale that left one spellbound. He was being so terse in the telling of this tale that she knew he was doing it on purpose.

  “That was not a proper tale, Artan; it was lacking a great deal of information, for one thing.”

  Lucas grinned. “Aye, it was short. Near as short as the wren here.” He winked at her.

  “I am nay short. The two of ye are just far too tall,” she replied nearly word for word as she had for years.

  “Aye, we did keep on growing long after we should have stopped.”

  “How did ye get the Gowans to give ye the horses and Simon without having to pay their ransom or join Simon in that dreadful hole in the ground?”

  “Artan met the laird’s wife.”

  “Oh dear,” Alana murmured, having a dreadful suspicion as to where this part of the tale was headed. Women did seem to be drawn to her brothers, and she suspected some of the fascination was that there were two of them and they were nearly exactly alike.

  “Aye, that fine woman took a liking to our Artan and told him all about the Gowans, the ransoming, and the keep. She isnae a happy wife.”

  “I cannae accept the laurels for the information about the keep, Lucas,” said Artan. “She told ye about that.”

  “Only because she thought I was you, brother.”

  Alana exchanged a wide-eyed look with Fiona and then took a long drink of cider to calm herself. She was torn between an urge to laugh and one that would have her sliding beneath the table and hiding in embarrassment. It was a common problem when dealing with her brothers. Ewan and Gregor were doing a very poor job of hiding
their amusement. Alana suddenly wondered if Lady Gowan truly had been confused about which twin she was with or had simply let her brothers think she was so that she could enjoy both of them. She then scolded herself for having such an unkind thought about the woman, only to realize that she had betrayed her husband with two men.

  “To continue,” said Lucas, much to her relief, “we got inside the keep late one night and quickly convinced the laird that it would be a fine gesture on his part if he returned your horses and let us take Simon home. I told him that would probably be enough to soothe my ire and sense of grave insult o’er the way he had treated my sister.”

  Artan nodded. “The laird decided he didnae want to be nailed to the floor and,” he glanced at Fiona, “other such playful diversions and let us take the horses and Simon.”

  Lucas suddenly grinned. “The laird’s wife wanted us to take her with us, too, but Artan told her he didnae think the two wives he already had would ken what to do with a third.” He chuckled when Alana groaned softly.

  “Several Gowans tried to come after us, but we made them understand that we didnae want the company.”

  “Ye didnae leave dead Gowans scattered about, did ye?” asked Alana, feeling a little sorry for the inept Gowans, for she knew with what deadly swiftness her brothers would react to any perceived threat.

  “Wheesht, we would ne’er be so untidy.”

  “Lucas,” she said warningly, although she knew they would ignore her threats as easily as she ignored theirs.

  “Nay,” replied Lucas. “We remembered what Maman taught us.” He winked at Alana.

  “Which lesson was that?”

  “The one in which she said that although the world might be the better for it, ye cannae kill a mon just because he is an idiot.” He smiled sweetly at Fiona when she laughed and smiled even more widely when Ewan scowled at him.

  “Ah, that one.” Alana began to think that there might be a lot more of her mother in the twins than she had realized. “I thank ye for getting our horses back and bringing Simon home. It was kind of ye.” She hid a smile at the way they both winced at being called kind. “Actually, ye might be able to do us a favor when ye leave. We had to borrow Brother Peter’s horse when we left the monastery and—”