Her Highland Destiny

by Leanne Burroughs

  Tory sat in a chair her husband made for her. “You woolgathered. About your wife? Do you plan to go home to her where you belong?”

  “Aye, but I worry about returning to the woman MacThomaidh shoved down my throat. What if she wants naught to do with me now?” Turmoil roiled in him. Fear.

  Grant entered the room. His childhood friend. Now a tall, imposing man with black hair and hazy grey eyes. He bent and kissed Tory.

  Heartsick for what his friend had when he wanted the same, Duncan knew the only reason he didn’t have it was stubborn pride. He sighed and crossed the room to fill a pewter cup with whisky.

  “‘Tis a wee early for that,” Tory scolded.

  Duncan breathed out frustration. “Your woman has no pity for me, Grant.”

  “If you do not wish to be chided as a bairn, cease acting like one.” Tory smiled her taunt.

  Grant stood beside his wife, one hand resting on her shoulder as he curiously cocked a brow. “Leave the man be, Tory. He is returning to Cray Hall. He just needs a wee dram of courage.”

  “’Tis more than that.” Duncan sat down with a thud on a bench. “Angus said I am to be a father. I know not what will happen when I return, but I must be there. I am going back to my wife and shall fetch my daughter home as well. Angus waits outside.” His eyes met theirs, his own unsure. “What if Catherine no longer want me?”

  Grant and Tory clasped hands and smiled at each other. Duncan thought back to Grant holding her prisoner and Tory trying to escape. Foolish. They’d learned their mistakes the hard way.

  He’d made mistakes, too. Leaving Catherine had been the worst mistake of his life.

  ~ * ~

  Catherine fretted about the birth of her child. People at Cray Hall were nice, but they weren’t family; this wasn’t her home. She missed Trevor. She needed his support, his shoulder to cry on. Needed someone strong to hold her and tell her everything would be fine.

  There was no one.

  She put a hand to her stomach. Nay, that wasn’t right. She had her babe and she was the one who needed to be strong for its sake.

  Downstairs, she saw Torchil. Her decision made, she informed him, “I have decided to return to London.”

  He looked incredulous. “You cannot, My Lady.”

  “I did not ask, Torchil. Merely gave an order,” Catherine said sadly. “Make preparations.”

  She crossed the Hall, rushes catching on the toe of the soft leather shoes she’d begun wearing shortly after her arrival. Her mother would be appalled at her lack of fashion. She’d adjusted well to simplicity of the Highland life. Surprisingly, it suited her. Could she go back to a life that now seemed inconsequential?

  Pacing nervously, Catherine walked to the garden doors, opened one and gazed outside, fighting for composure. “When I am gone, Lord Duncan can return. He should not have to stay away for something our fathers did. He—”

  “Is a blasted fool for not returning,” Torchil ranted.

  Catherine smiled at the vehemence behind the man’s words and the dark expression crossing his face. She gently touched his arm. “Thank you for being so kind.”

  “You do not like it here?”

  “I like it here very much. Please believe... I have come to love you all, love this Hall.” Tears clogged her throat.

  “Stay and fight for what you want. ‘Tis the Highland way. You are a Highlander’s wife now,” Torchil said.

  Catherine closed her eyes. He made it sound so simple. “Fight for Duncan to fall in love with me?” Not meaning to reveal her innermost thoughts, she raised her hand to her mouth.

  Torchil locked eyes with her and nodded. “Only a fool could not love a lass as bonnie as you.”

  “Thank you my friend. I was raised to run a castle, see to my lord husband’s happiness. Not to be a warrior.” She sighed. “Were I not with child, I might consider staying forever—and Duncan could find himself another home. ‘Twould serve him right for leaving me.” She laughed guiltily. “But I must make a life for myself and my babe, one where we are wanted.”

  “You are wanted here. The MacThomas’ child should be born here,” he pressed.

  “Please do not make this harder for me.” She raised a hand to stay his retort. “I am homesick, Torchil. Until I wed Lord MacThomas, I had never been away from home more than a sennight. I was so homesick for Trevor and Elizabeth I got sick. My aunt took me home and I never again left. Until the king’s intervention.”

  Peering outside, she took in the surrounding area. “I always knew I would wed, but thought I would live in town, near my family. Although...I have never seen such majestic mountains.” She glanced over her shoulder, discovered Torchil behind her. Lost in concentration, she hadn’t heard his approach. She gazed back outside. “We have naught like them in London, you know.”

  “Because you do not have mountains,” Alex grumbled from the doorway. “You have naught but wee hills.” Catherine heard unwanted emotion in his voice.

  “I did not realize you were here, too, Alex, but since you heard me, I should like to leave on the morrow.” Defeated, she battled tears, whispering, “Afore I change my mind.”

  “You cannot take away Laird Duncan’s bairn. It must be raised here.”

  Catherine remained adamant. Exasperated, she told them, “I need my family right now. I need my brother.” She turned to look at the land around Cray Hall. “I love it here, but my mind is made up.”

  Torchil shook his head, turned, and walked away, muttering with each step. “Angus left me in charge. Faugh! Laird Duncan may have my head.” He swore as he strode out the door.

  ~ * ~

  Men loaded Catherine’s belongings onto a small cart. Tears pooled in her eyes as she bade farewell. She didn’t care if anyone considered hugging servants proper or not. Instantly her mother’s voice sounded in her head, Catherine Gillingham, what are you thinking? These are villeins.

  Villeins? Nay, they are friends, family. Her shoulders sagged as she bade Siobhán farewell. Following a strong urge, Catherine brushed a tendril of hair from the woman’s cheek as Duncan had always done for her. She fought for composure at that memory. And lost.

  Why is this so difficult? Everyone has only been kind because Duncan insisted they must. The moment she thought it, Catherine knew it for the lie it was. They’d befriended her of their own accord, had shown an outpouring of love. How could she leave? Then again, how could she stay? In London her brother could help. She twisted her hands in her skirt.

  She wanted to leave—but wanted to stay. God help her, she didn’t know what she wanted.

  I cannot wallow in self-pity. She straightened her shoulders, stood taller. I must do what is best, shall never tell my child its father abandoned us. Remembering how patient he’d been teaching her to swim, she imagined Duncan would have been a good father. Before she changed her mind, Catherine climbed into the litter and left for London.

  Chapter Ten

  Early morning mist dissipated as Duncan rode his garron through the gate. He couldn’t wait to see Catherine. Och, why had it taken him so long to come to his senses? This is where he belonged. How could he be such a fool to leave?

  And she bears my babe. The thought echoed through his mind for the hundredth time. Was her belly flat or could he tell his bairn grew in her body?

  After Helen’s betrayal, he’d never planned to wed again, never thought to have another child. Now that I am home, I can bring Meghan home as well. Life was good.

  Torchil rushed to meet him as he and Angus slipped from their horses.

  “Praise the saints, you heard.”

  “Of course I heard. ‘Tis the best news I’ve had in years.” Duncan’s wide grin split from ear to ear.

  He looked around the busy courtyard. Many of the household servants stood staring.

  “Have I suddenly grown two heads—like a Viking troll.” He chuckled as he walked toward the house. “Is my lady wife inside?”

  Torchil placed his hand on Duncan’s arm.
<
br />   Something was amiss. He stepped away from Torchil and rushed toward the house.

  As his hand touched the door, Angus called out, “Duncan, lad. The lass is not there. She is gone.”

  His face ashen, Duncan didn’t move. His heart, that had only moments before been full of hope, love, now beat in pain.

  Angus reported. “Torchil just told me Lady Catherine returned to London.”

  Duncan turned, placing his hand on the doorframe to steady himself. He swallowed before he spoke. “What. Did. You. Just. Say?”

  Angus bit his lip, repeated his words, clearly one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  Duncan cursed and slammed his fist against the stone wall, scraping skin off his knuckles.

  Torchil tried to explain. “When you did not return, she said she needed to be with her family.”

  “We are her family,” Duncan growled, his voice filled with regret. “This is her home.”

  “We know that, son,” Angus tried to console, “but the lass was confused, scared. She—”

  “Left me,” Duncan completed for him. “Like everyone else.”

  “Not because she wanted to,” Angus explained. “She liked it here.”

  “Obviously not enough to stay,” Duncan bit out.

  Torchil tried to calm Duncan. “Lad, she was afeared.”

  “Of what?” Duncan said through clenched teeth, pushing the door open with such force it slammed against the wall. “No one would dare hurt her.”

  “Of course not,” Torchil sighed impatiently, “but you were not here. She felt she needed a father for her child.”

  Duncan froze on his way inside the hall. “Does she think to find some other man? Did she say she meant to—”

  “Nay,” Angus stormed, following Duncan inside the large gathering room. “She would not do that. She is not like Helen.”

  “What is it she plans?”

  “Live with her parents or move near her brother,” Torchil answered. “She claimed she was homesick. Said he would find her some place near his home.”

  Duncan glared at that logic. “She took my child with her.”

  “We tried to tell her she must stay, but she would not listen. We learned quickly she is as stubborn as you,” Torchil said.

  Angus shot him an ‘I told you so’ look.

  Duncan crossed the hall and grabbed a tankard of ale. Draining it, he slammed it down on the table. “She is my wife and belongs here.” He stormed out the front door.

  “Where go you?” Angus mumbled, following his laird.

  “To fetch a fresh mount,” Duncan called over his shoulder, “and bring my wife home.” He saddled a fresh horse, not pausing to see if his clansmen joined him. Jerking the cinch tight, he muttered, “Hellfire and brimstone! I finally come to my senses and the daft woman loses hers.”

  ~ * ~

  Upset over Catherine’s leaving, the lines around his eyes revealed Duncan’s volatility.

  Pain flowed through him as he rode south. He’d pushed himself and his men to ride to Crieff without stopping. He was thinking with his heart rather than common sense. He hoped Grant would ride with them to London. He’d wanted to shout his anger when he first heard Angus’ words. Once again, someone left him. Was he right to go after her? Or should he let her go? He’d repeatedly said he wanted nothing to do with her, yet freely admitted she fascinated him. That was all he felt. Fascination. Certainly he didn’t love her. He’d never let his guard down enough to love anyone, never trust anyone enough to gift them with that power.

  Pouring rain only increased his gloom. Why couldn’t he forget her? Why did the taste and smell of her haunt his every breath?

  “Curse her,” he shouted to the wind. How dare she leave his home, the protection he offered? She was his wife. His lady. Pain lanced through him when realization struck. He’d done the same thing to her. Left her. Without a worthy reason. Choking back his emotions, he tried to understand why it mattered if she left. In a moment of desperate honesty, Duncan realized he’d lost her the instant he walked out on her. “I was a fool—a blasted fool!” he muttered to himself, the rain drowning out his words.

  ~ * ~

  They continued to the last place Duncan wanted to go—London. His marriage had taken place there. His marriage to an Englishwoman. To Catherine, his wife. A marriage he now wished he hadn’t discounted so quickly. Aye, the wee lassie was his wife—and he wanted her back.

  Arriving at Tamara’s house in Melrose, his sister insisted, “Spend the night, Duncan. Your men are tired and the animals need rest. You can set out at first light.”

  “Och, ‘tis not what I want, but aye, we shall stay. Mayhap by morn the rain will have ceased. Traveling in mud has been difficult on the horses.”

  At dawn, a feeling of urgency snaked through him. He turned to his friends as they saddled their mounts. “Make haste. I understand it not, but I sense something is wrong.” An image of Catherine lying wounded on the ground filtered through his mind. Jumping on his horse, he spurred it to a fast pace. He’d not had such a feeling since the day his mother died.

  Had the fool woman somehow endangered herself? Duncan couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled inside him. The heavy weight felt like someone sitting on his chest.

  Although Duncan thought it took too long, they finally arrived in London, the place he considered a detestable town. He wasted no time beginning his search and quickly remembered how to find her family home.

  His every instinct warned something terrible would happen.

  ~ * ~

  Catherine sat on her bed and sighed. She felt restless, but didn’t understand why. Being in London hadn’t given her the peace she searched for and the very walls where she sought solace seemed to close in on her, a feeling that had always frightened her.

  Her lady’s maid watched closely. “What causes you to fret, m’lady?”

  “Father. He has done naught but rail at me.” Catherine shook her head, not understanding her feelings. “Mother and Trevor ask question after question about what went wrong. Father calls my return a disgrace.” She faced her lady’s maid. “But I don’t know what I did wrong. I don’t know why he left me. I honestly thought he’d begun to love me.”

  Now she belonged nowhere.

  Nay, that’s not true. If honest, I would admit I left my heart in the Highlands. How could I fall in love with people and a place so fast? ‘Tis like I was destined to be there. She stopped in thought. Or that God wanted me there.

  With a pang of longing for what she’d left behind, Catherine decided on impulse, “Let us walk outside. Mayhap to one of the far gardens.” She rose and walked to her wardrobe to fetch a mantle. Opening the door, she tucked a stray curl behind her ear before heading into the afternoon’s warm breeze. Memories swarmed over her like a wave caressing the shore. Duncan always tucked that curl behind my ear.

  Catherine thought her heart would break.

  ~ * ~

  “Still pretentious,” he grumbled after looking at the well-groomed grounds of Catherine’s family home. Guards at the gate were hesitant to let him enter the compound, but once he reminded them Catherine was his wife, they grudgingly conceded.

  He pounded loudly on the entry door and requested an audience with his wife. When the doorkeeper looked down his nose and announced, “Lady Gillingham is not at home,” Duncan wanted to plant his fist in the man’s pompous face.

  “Lady MacThomas.” By the saints, why did I say that?

  He insisted he didn’t want the woman for his wife, yet instantly grew offended when the servant used her maiden name. He knew perfectly well most Scots women kept theirs. Since taking her husband’s surname was an English way, he should abhor it. But something in him wanted to brand Catherine in every manner possible. How could one woman so twist his emotions?

  “I refuse to leave until I see her,” Duncan told the staid doorkeep.

  Hearing the commotion, Catherine’s brother, Trevor Gillingham, emerged from a room to
greet them less than pleasantly. He turned to his manservant. “That is all, Markham. You may leave. I shall handle this.”

  With a frown at the Highlanders, the elderly doorkeep bowed and left the foyer.

  “I am surprised to see you, MacThomas.” Trevor was unable to keep the edge from his voice. “From what my sister tells me, you left. What could you possibly want here now?” Duncan saw the flash of anger in Gillingham’s eyes.

  “I shall tell that to my lady wife.” Duncan fixed the Englishman with an impervious glare.

  “Your wife?” Gillingham’s eyebrow rose. “I did not think you remembered you had one.”

  Anger filled Duncan, but he stood unspeaking lest he say something he might regret.

  “If you came to argue with her, I suggest you leave.” Aggravation edged Duncan’s brother-in-law’s voice. “My sister is not here, MacThomas. I shall tell her you called.”

  Duncan strode into the parlor, sat in a delicate chair with determination. “I shall await.” He stretched out his legs and propped his boots atop a highly glossed table. When he tilted the chair back so it rested on two spindly legs, he had to hide his smile when his brother by marriage watched, mouth agape.

  Gillingham angrily announced, “She seemed upset, so she took a walk in the gardens. She could be anywhere by now.”

  “Alone?” Duncan rose, glaring at his brother-in-law. “Are all the English so lackwit? She was upset and you let the daft woman go outside alone in this bloody town?”

  “Not that it is any of your concern, but she is not alone. She is with her lady’s maid. And she is not in town, she is on the Gillingham estate.”

  “As I said...lackwit. What protection can a maid offer?” Duncan fumed.

  Trevor strode to the door and opened it. “It appears my sister’s assessment of you is correct, MacThomas. You are an arrogant ar…horse’s behind.

  Duncan suppressed an overwhelming urge to plant his fist in the young man’s almost too pretty face!

  Gillingham shot a scathing glance at Duncan. “Follow me, my lord ruffian, I shall escort you to look for Catherine. Then she may inform you she wishes naught further to do with you.” He motioned for two of his men-at-arms to join him. “John and Geoffrey, accompany us.” Glaring at Duncan’s heavily armed men, Gillingham arched a brow. “They look like they came prepared to fight.”