Conquered by a Highlander

by Paula Quinn

  Satisfied by Gillian’s wistful smile that she needed no further convincing, he turned back to Gates. “Whatever else ye want to know about me, be convinced of this: the lady and her son weigh heavily on me. I want to help them. I vow to ye that they will be safe. My faither is distrustful by nature. There are only two ways into Camlochlin on foot, and one way by water. The battlements are continuously patrolled with guards and cannons facing east, west, and south.”

  “You have no enemies in the north?”

  “Nae, we have a mountain behind us. ’Tis called Sgurr na Stri.”

  Gillian repeated the Gaelic name, liking the sound of it on her lips, if her smile was any indication.

  Colin liked it as well. He described the way the mist rolled down from the Cuillins and how the lavender heather glistened and danced on the moors.

  He missed being home. He missed the crisp air and the harsh mountain ranges, the sounds of his father and brothers clashing swords in the practice field.

  “Edmund will have to learn how to swim. The children often play in the bay outside the castle.”

  “He will love it,” Gillian said, her eyes closed to see more clearly the world he described.

  “Aye,” he agreed, watching her and imagining her sewing and giggling with his mother and the other women of the castle. “Ye both will.”

  She opened her eyes and granted him a smile he feared would someday tempt him to learn how to pick flowers.

  “Then tell me again what I must do to deceive Geoffrey and let us be about this, Colin Campbell.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Gillian pressed her back to the rocky wall along the coastline and clutched Edmund to her side. She was proud of her son for keeping silent. It also gave her time to think of the man they were hiding from.

  She was fairly certain she had fallen in love with Colin MacGregor over the past se’nnight. It scared the blazes out of her. She knew every possible consequence that could come from it. She’d lived and survived the betrayal of it. She never wanted to endure such misery again. But she couldn’t stop it from happening. Colin was not just her angel, her champion, her friend. He loved Edmund. Lord, but it was so evident in his eyes, his tender, unguarded smile. He’d spent most of his time with them over the past eight days, giving up his hours in the practice yard for angling, catching frogs, and teaching Edmund how to fashion a ball out of cloth so they could then throw it to each other.

  He made her feel alive and vibrant again, even behind the thick stone walls of her prison. He made her forget William of Orange and her cousin’s promises to wed her.

  Geoffrey didn’t suspect their growing fondness for each other, despite the time she spent with Colin. After all, he’d assigned Colin to guarding her. It was Colin’s duty to follow her and Edmund around, just as it had been George’s duty.

  That didn’t make their attraction to each other any less dangerous. She’d never wanted to kiss George while she was pretending to dislike him.

  The crunch of a boot walking on sand behind her quickened her heart and she smiled down at Edmund, holding her finger to her lips.

  “Where could they be?” Colin called out.

  Edmund giggled into her skirts.

  An instant passed in absolute silence, and then another. She was about to take a peek around the rock to see if Colin had given up seeking them, when he appeared on the other side of her.

  “Aha!”

  Edmund squealed with delight and Colin picked him up and tossed him into the air. “I found ye both,” he said over her son’s laughter, holding him comfortably in the crook of his arm.

  “I prayed that you would.”

  He leaned in closer to her and she smiled at Edmund to keep her gaze off the stubble defining the broad angle of Colin’s jaw, the exquisite shape of his mouth.

  “Did ye now?”

  His breath along her ear drew her eyes back to his. “Aye,” she told him without pretense. She wanted him to know what he meant to her. She wanted him to promise never to leave her. “I did, for a very long time.”

  His lips curled and swept over hers—a brief, titillating touch that rattled her senseless.

  “Is it our turn to count?”

  Colin stared into her eyes long enough to let her know that he wasn’t done with this. Then he turned to Edmund and cocked his brow at him.

  “Ye know how to count then?”

  “One, two, three!” Edmund proved exuberantly.

  “Then what are we waiting fer?” Colin put him down and asked him to count slowly as Gillian turned with Edmund to begin.

  She heard Colin slip behind the rock wall they were counting from. It was as far as he could get in the little bit of time he had. She smiled and let herself fall as madly, as recklessly, in love with him as any damned fool could get as she ran off with Edmund in the opposite direction to seek him.

  They returned an hour late, giving her little time to tend to Edmund before supper. Colin’s promise to handle her cousin didn’t soothe George’s temper, but Gillian guessed her captain was still smarting over being replaced as her escort. Poor George. Geoffrey kept him busy with menial chores that the captain would never have agreed to perform if not for Colin’s plan. But he’d done them… for her, and she loved him for it.

  When they parted, she shut the door to Edmund’s room and leaned against it with a wistful sigh. Lord, who would have ever thought supper in the Great Hall with Geoffrey and his men would cease to become her least favorite part of the day? Colin made it bearable. They barely shared a word during their meals, but the secret smiles they exchanged while Geoffrey pawed at the female servers gave new life to her dreams.

  Was she dreaming now? Was it truly possible that she and Edmund were going to leave Dartmouth? Could she still have the life she dreamed about? One where she was free to make her own choices? To come and go as she pleased? Where no one called Edmund a bastard or threatened to take him away? What would it be like in the mountains with a band of notorious Highlanders? Would she want to remain there? Would Colin stay with her? After tonight, how much longer would she have Edmund in her arms before he was taken away?

  She thought about it all while she bathed her son and kissed his wet curls. She had to do this. She had to trust Colin. There was no other choice. Edmund would love it in Skye if the MacGregors were anything like Colin. MacGregor. She liked the sound of it, but according to Colin, most scorned it. That was why he had come here as a Campbell. He explained it all to her the day after the attack, while they sat on the rocks waiting for a fish to bite. Gillian had had a hard time believing the details of the proscription he’d described to her. Women branded on the face, their rights stripped bare, their name outlawed.

  And the English thought the Scots barbaric?

  The MacGregors of Skye didn’t frighten her. She was as yet undecided about the cold, harsh mountains though.

  “Would you like other children to play with, Edmund?” she asked him, carrying him to his bed and setting his feet on the mattress.

  “What other children?”

  Would they like him? Would they think him odd because he didn’t know any games to play?

  “No one, darling.” She smiled and helped him into his nightclothes.

  “Do they have puppies?”

  “They have puppies, sheep, and even chickens.”

  Gillian swung around, startled to see Colin standing at the door, carrying a tray of food in his hand. She hadn’t heard him enter.

  “They have an old barn filled with ducks, pigs, and cats. Lots of cats,” he told Edmund, coming toward the bed.

  “And these cats don’t harm the ducks?” Gillian looked up at his profile and felt her limbs go weak when he turned and winked at her.

  “They would not dare fer fear of their caretaker’s wrath.”

  “I will like those other children!” Edmund clapped his hands, pulling their gazes back to him.

  “We will speak more of them tomorrow, lad,” Colin said, taking his h
and and swinging Edmund off the bed. “Now ’tis time fer yer supper and then fer yer mother to read to ye before ye set about on yer dreaming adventures.”

  Gillian frowned, following them to the table. “There won’t be time for a story.”

  “A brief one won’t hurt.” Colin lifted Edmund into his seat and then turned around to smile at her. “I’ll see to it.”

  And he would. Gillian imagined that he could see to just about anything. She wouldn’t worry. For once, she trusted that she didn’t have to. “Very well, a brief one then after supper.”

  She skirted him and headed toward the bookcase before she flung herself into his arms. Heavens—she thought of fanning her hand before her face while she scoured the shelf that was level with her gaze—she’d become the kind of fool she detested and feared. Only this time, she wasn’t afraid.

  How could she not surrender her heart to a man who patiently answered the dozen questions Edmund put to him while her son ate? A warrior who stood silently while she read from Chaucer, holding her breathless with the tenderest quirk of his mouth when she looked up at him from time to time. He waited while she tucked her babe in his bed and kissed him good eve, and then offered her his arm as he led her to the Hall.

  “Remember to revile me in Devon’s presence tonight.”

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep sigh. “It will be difficult.”

  When she opened her eyes again, his smile scattered her fears to the four winds.

  “Truly, Colin, you must cease doing that.”

  “What?”

  “Smiling. How can I pretend to dislike you when you are looking at me like that?”

  “How am I looking at ye?” He laughed softly and clasped his free hand behind his back while they walked.

  She moved a breath closer to him. “Like you don’t dislike me.”

  His grin went soft but did not falter. “I will stop when I need to.”

  “What if I cannot?” She paused, unsure if she could continue to master her emotions as easily as he did. She could barely mask them when she was angry with Geoffrey. What if Colin smiled at her in the middle of flying bread and swinging elbows and she smiled back like some lovesick fool? She would ruin everything.

  “Ye’ll do it, lass,” he soothed, slipping his fingers through hers. “ ’Tis but a game, and no matter how ye play it, I will not let ye lose.”

  Was he jesting? How was she not supposed to swoon over such chivalry? And those fathomless eyes searing into her, sweeping her away to a forest saturated in the sunlight of a quiet afternoon where only the three of them existed.

  She wanted her choices returned to her. She wanted to spend more time with Colin without fear of discovery, and she wanted Edmund to share his life with him too. She didn’t doubt Colin’s promise, but she wouldn’t rely on it alone. “I won’t let me lose either.”

  Gillian wasn’t completely certain she could do it, but when they stepped through the doors and entered the Great Hall, her features went as hard as Colin’s when she saw de Atre sitting close to her cousin at the table.

  “Ah,” Geoffrey called out when he saw them, “the whore who thinks she’s a queen decides to grace us with her presence.”

  De Atre smiled and then flinched when he remembered that his mouth was still healing.

  “If this frosty maiden is what ye call whore,” Colin said, stepping away from her and around the table to take his seat, “then ’tis quite clear my lord has never enjoyed the pleasures of one.”

  Gillian didn’t look up while she sat, but basked silently in the way Colin had defended her and insulted Geoffrey at the same time.

  Her cousin didn’t take the blow well, especially when a few of his men laughed at him. But as he opened his mouth to defend himself, Colin set down his cup and offered him his sincerest smile.

  “I know quite a few who would bend over backward fer an hour with a distinguished earl such as yerself.”

  My, but he certainly knew how to restore himself to the good graces of his enemy, Gillian thought when Geoffrey forgot the insult and curled his tight lips into a lewd grin.

  “Do you think they would be willing to teach my future bride how to please me?”

  Gillian wanted to hurl her plate at her cousin, and then her cup at Colin for the convincing display of camaraderie between them when he laughed.

  “Fer the right amount of coin they will direct yer wedding night from the bedside, or in it. Whichever ye prefer.”

  Beneath the table, Gillian twisted her serviette into a tight knot. She didn’t know what was worse, imagining herself in Geoffrey’s bed or a whore in Colin’s. Both made her feel ill and angry. She had no claim on the mercenary. He never said he would stay with her in his Highland home. What if there was a woman there who possessed his heart… or more than one? She looked at him—quite boldly too, unconcerned with what her cousin thought about it.

  “Mr. Campbell,” she said, quieting the men around her and dragging Colin’s casual gaze to her, “it is difficult enough having to spend my days with you. Do you think you could save this crude topic for a more private audience with your lord?”

  Only because she’d spent nearly every moment in his company, enthralled by every nuance of his expressions—as subtle as they often were—did she recognize the playful tip of his mouth and the flecks of gold in his eyes bursting with fire when he settled them on her.

  “I could if ye pretend to enjoy my company more.”

  The game had begun. She almost smiled, but didn’t. She would not fail Edmund, or him. He wanted her to revile him, did he?

  “Then please, do go on,” she said with enough cool contempt to send a chill down the back of every man at the table.

  “Screw her sensitive ears,” de Atre murmured, trying to position his cup around his sutured lips.

  “More sensitive than your mouth, de Atre,” George growled at him. “But that can be remedied.”

  “Don’t bother slicing off his nose next.” Colin swerved the topic away from whores with a tip of his cup and a murderous slant of his mouth. “He cannot smell himself with it right there on his face.”

  The brutish Mr. Hampton smacked Colin on the back and roared with laughter, and the conversations proceeded, as they always did, to fighting and whoring.

  Thankfully, it didn’t take long for her cousin to grow bored with her company. In fact, he looked painfully dulled by everyone around him. He yawned and set off a linked reaction from every man at the table. Almost every man.

  Colin, she noted, fighting everything in her being to keep from smiling at him, pulsed with vitality as he looked up at a server about to refill his cup and refused the offer.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Where are we going?” Gillian laughed as Colin pulled her by the hand over rocky crags and down slippery crevices.

  “Ye’ll see.”

  In truth, she was only mildly curious about their destination. She was happy to be out of the castle, thrilled by the wind snapping her hair behind her and the smell of the sea, crisp and briny, coming in from the estuary. She knew she should be anxious about Colin’s confession to spiking the wine, and Geoffrey waking in his bed in the morning with no memory of how he’d gotten there. Poor George. He was going to be angry. Thankfully, the most the men would suffer was a pounding skull when they woke from their slumber.

  “I wanted ye to myself tonight,” Colin had told her when she questioned him about why he’d rendered Dartmouth’s entire garrison powerless. She would think about what an effective, calculating warrior he was tomorrow. Tonight, she would enjoy her time with him without fear of discovery.

  They ran along the rocky coastline, beneath the silvery luminance of the moon, and for a short, exhilarating time, Gillian pretended that they were running away to Camlochlin, running toward Edmund, and freedom, and happiness.

  By the time they finally slowed, the coastline had changed slightly with the cliff wall rising higher before them.

  “Can ye climb?”<
br />
  She nodded, breathless by the journey and the raw vigor exuding off Colin in waves. The man possessed stamina that wilted the strength from her kneecaps and made her doubt her claim.

  She must have looked about to collapse at his feet, because he swooped down and lifted her in his arms to carry her the rest of the way. She should insist that he put her down, bring her back to the castle, and deposit her alone in her bed. Both Geoffrey and George would kill him if they knew he’d taken her away in the cover of night to… She let out a slight gasp when he stopped at the entrance of a cave overlooking the estuary. Light and shadows flickered along the jagged walls from the small, dying fire just beyond the entrance. Her face went hot when her eyes settled on the intimate pile of blankets keeping warm beside the flames. When had he found the time to do all this?

  “I thought ye would like it here.” His voice was thick with tenderness when he set her on her feet.

  “I do, but how did you know I would come?”

  He turned her around on the precipice edge to look out at the pewter waves meeting the starry sky. “Because ye fancy dreaming, lass, and the view is better from this angle.”

  Heaven help her, but yes, she dreamed. She’d never stopped. Through it all, she’d never stopped hearing music on the waves and in the wind. She’d never stopped dreaming of the profound. And here it was. If she wasn’t already in love with Colin MacGregor, she would have fallen in love with him then and there for seeing the part of herself she tried so hard to hide. (It proved he had been looking.) And for the care he took in finding this perfect place to take her.