by Ruth Langan
Neither of them could go with the other and leave their people leaderless.
Brenna, who had paused in the doorway, reluctant to intrude, now walked to the bedside and touched a hand to her sister’s forehead.
“Already the healing has begun. With rest she will soon be as strong as before.”
She was surprised to see the stricken look on Brice’s face. “I thought that would make you happy, my lord Campbell.”
“Aye. I am delighted that Meredith is regaining her strength.” He stood wearily. “But now that I know she will survive, I must leave.”
“Rest here a few days, my lord, until Meredith is strong enough to speak with you. From what I know of your time together in the Highlands, you have much to talk over.”
So she had confided in her sisters.
He shook his head and ran a hand over the beard that darkened his chin. “She has already spoken. She desires to live in her home in peace.”
“I heard her words,” Brenna said softly. “But when she is stronger…”
“When she is stronger,” Brice said firmly, “she will unite her people and rebuild that which Gareth MacKenzie sought to destroy. And I,” he said, strapping on his sword and tossing a cape over his shoulder, “have a clan depending upon me as well. I have left them leaderless long enough.”
“Meredith will wish to thank you, Brice.”
He took Brenna’s hands in his and kissed her cheek. “Thanks are not necessary. It is my fault that she has been denied her home for so long now. Tell her only that I…” He stopped abruptly as Angus and Megan walked into the room. With a wry smile he said, “Tell Meredith that I wish her every happiness.”
In a low voice the others could not hear Brenna asked, “Do you love her, Brice?”
“Aye. With all my heart. And for that reason I must leave her. She has a duty. As do I.”
“You once said that you would even risk losing her if it meant her happiness.”
He said nothing.
Brenna and Megan watched as Brice strode quickly from the room without a backward glance. Within minutes he and Angus could be seen urging their mounts into a gallop toward the river Tweed.
With a heavy heart Brenna draped an arm about her sister’s shoulder. The two sisters stood at the balcony window and watched until both figures disappeared into the Highland mists.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brice leaned a hip against the window of his balcony and watched as a falcon slowly circled, searching for prey.
From below stairs came the sad, sorrowful sounds of Jamie’s lute. For days now the lad’s music seemed to mirror Brice’s feelings.
What had he once told Meredith? That he had never felt lonely in his Highland fortress. He gave a bitter laugh and lifted his face to the sky, seeing the falcon’s mate suddenly appear. The two birds soared together, looking as though they could touch the sun. Then they suddenly swooped, skimming low to the ground before once more lifting, soaring, until they were lost from view.
He felt a terrible, aching sense of loss.
Ever since he had returned to Kinloch House he had felt restless and irritable. In his absence the great hall had been restored. The women had completed the new tapestries, relating the proud history of the Campbells. Tradesmen in the villages had made new chairs, tables, and settles. Weavers had provided fresh linens. The castle sparkled under the loving care of Mistress Snow and the servants, who filled it with the fresh scents of mint and evergreen.
It was so empty.
Though it resounded with the voices of the serving girls, and the laughter of Brice’s men, it no longer brought him joy to walk the halls of Kinloch House.
In every room he saw her. In the refectory, sitting beside Jamie, listening to the booming voices of his men while she quietly ate. In the great hall, warming herself before the fire. In his sleeping chamber, lying beside him. Thoughts of Meredith tormented him.
He had never dreamed it would be so painful to let go.
He had waged terrible, bitter arguments with himself. If he were half a man he would ride to the Borders and take her. It had always been the Highlanders’ way. But her plea, in her moment of pain, had touched him deeply. Home. For too long she had been denied the comfort of her home. Because of him. If he truly loved her, he had to give her what she most craved. And in that moment he had seen with perfect clarity. Meredith needed her home. He had no right to deny her her heart’s desire.
If she loved him, he thought with growing resentment, she would come to him. She would leave her people without a leader, without protection from the invaders to the south, and come to him. She would leave her gentle rolling hills behind and make her home with him. He studied the land, trying to see it from her eyes. Where he saw shady glens and waterfalls, she would see dark forests where the sun never penetrated. Where he saw wide, peaceful vistas she would see a harsh, primitive wilderness.
What foolishness. She had a duty to her people. And he had a duty to his.
He frowned, cursing the day he had seen her standing at the altar, looking like an angel from heaven. If he had never met her, had never allowed himself to love her, he would not now have this terrible aching void in his life.
He cursed himself for wallowing in self-pity like some lovesick lad. Pulling on his tunic he strode down the stairs and picked up an axe. There were trees to be felled. He would feel better after a day of punishing physical labor.
Darkness spread over the land. In his chambers Brice turned away from the balcony window and sprawled upon a low bench pulled in front of the fire. Below he could hear the sound of his men’s voices, low, muted, as they discussed the events of the day. He had no desire to join them.
He heard the sad, haunting notes of Jamie’s lute and felt a wave of regret. The lad missed her. Almost as much as Brice did. Jamie had blurted the truth earlier today while they had worked together in the forest. He’d admitted that when Brice returned without Meredith, he had felt as if he’d lost his mother again.
It had been a blow to Brice. But he vowed to spend more time with the lad to ease him through this sense of loss. In time the pain would cease. For both of them.
He lifted a half-filled tankard and drank. At a knock on the door he called, “Enter.”
Angus entered, then beckoned for Mistress Snow to follow.
“Do we disturb you, old friend?”
“Nay.”
Brice stood and indicated the settle. The housekeeper took a seat but Angus preferred to stand.
Brice glanced from his friend to the woman. Both of them were grinning and looked as if they would burst if they did not soon share their news.
“Mistress Snow has consented to marry me,” Angus said.
Brice caught his friend in a great bear hug. “I am happy for you.” He turned to embrace the blushing woman. “For both of you.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Brice turned to Angus. “When will you wed?”
“We will speak to the rector on the morrow. I would prefer it yesterday.” He and Brice shared a laugh. “But my bride would like a fortnight to return to her cottage in yonder forest and prepare it properly for our dwelling.”
“The cottage.” Brice turned to Mistress Snow, then clapped a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “I do not think a humble cottage would be the proper dwelling for the leader of the Mackay clan.”
Angus stared at him without comprehending.
“With Holden Mackay dead, we must find a way to unite his clan with ours. I have been thinking that you would be the perfect clan leader, my friend. Though I was loath to send you away when I knew that your heart was here with Mistress Snow.” Brice gave them both a knowing smile. “But now that you are to be wed, you have solved my dilemma. Would you and your bride be willing to live in the Mackay fortress and help me bring peace to these Highlands?”
Angus stared at Brice for long minutes, then turned and lifted Mistress Snow into his arms. “What say you, lass? Would you be willing t
o give up your duties here at Kinloch House and live like the lady of the manor?”
“Oh, Angus.” As he lifted her high in the air she laughed in delight. “I cannot believe it.”
“Nor can I.” He set her on her feet and, keeping one arm draped about her, extended his other arm toward his old friend. “I would like Alston as my right hand. He is good with people. Mackay’s men will take to him.”
“He is yours.”
“We must go below stairs and tell the others.” Angus turned to Brice. “Will you join us?”
“In a while.”
When they had left, Brice turned to stare thoughtfully into the flames of the fire. He would miss the company of Angus and Alston, the red-bearded giant. And the loss of Mistress Snow would surely be felt in Kinloch House. But he was happy for his friends.
If only he could shake off this heaviness around his heart.
The hounds set off a wild frenzy of barking. He heard the babble of voices and the sound of Jamie’s lute. They would no doubt celebrate long into the night. This sad place badly needed a celebration.
Picking up his tankard he drained it and set it on the mantel. At a sound from the doorway he turned.
His mind was playing tricks on him. He was seeing her again, looking far lovelier than she had ever looked before.
She wore a hooded cape of lush green velvet, lined with ermine. Her cheeks were flushed, and her green eyes sparkled with a light that he had seen before, on that first night they had loved. She slid the hood back to reveal a mane of mahogany hair that tumbled down her back in a riot of curls. Entwined in her hair were ivy and wildflowers, their sweet perfume filling the air.
He blinked. The vision did not vanish. Instead she took a step closer. Her lips parted in the sweetest smile.
“Meredith.” His heart stopped.
“Aye.”
He felt his throat go dry. “You are not a vision?”
“Nay, my lord.” She laughed and crossed the room until she was standing in front of him. “Touch me. I will not vanish.”
Touch her? He wanted to crush her to him. Instead he reached a hand to her and felt his fingertips gently brush her cheek.
“How did you get here?”
“I rode.”
“Alone?” His eyes narrowed.
“Nay, my lord. I brought a company of my men.”
“Ah.” At last his senses were returning. The floor, which for a moment had tilted dangerously, was now steady once more. He brought his other hand to her face and stared down into her eyes. “Why have you come, Meredith?”
“To invite you to a wedding.”
“A wedding?” His heart tumbled. His brows drew together in a frown.
“Aye.”
“Whose wedding?”
She smiled. “Mine.”
His frown became a scowl. She felt his battle for control as he dropped his hands to his sides, where they curled into fists. “You did not wait long to wed.”
“I have waited long enough.” When she saw the look of pain that crossed his features she could no longer carry on the charade. “Oh, Brice. If you could but see your face.” She reached up to touch him and the cape slid from her shoulders, revealing a white gossamer gown that skimmed her breasts and fell in soft folds to the tips of kid slippers.
His hands grasped her shoulders so tightly that she gasped. “You look,” he whispered, “as beautiful as you did on that morn when first I saw you in the cathedral.”
“This time,” she said, looking up at him with love shining in her eyes, “I dressed for you.”
“For me.” He allowed his gaze to travel slowly over her, devouring her.
And then he knew.
“You’ve come to stay?”
“Aye. If you’ll have me.”
“Oh, Meredith.” He drew her into the circle of his arms and kissed her with a savageness that left them both dazed and reeling.
He lifted his head and touched a fingertip to the tear that squeezed from her eye and coursed down her cheek. “Tears, firebrand?”
“I was so afraid, Brice.”
“Of what?”
“Afraid this was all a terrible mistake. Afraid that when I reached your beloved Highlands you would not want me.”
“Oh, my love. You are all I want.”
“Then why did you leave me without a word?”
“I had no right to ask you to give up your title, your power, your home, for me.”
Another tear spilled over, and then another while she wrapped her arms about his neck and clung to him. So Brenna had been right. She would be forever thankful to her sister for urging her to take the risk.
Against his throat she whispered, “You are all I want, Brice. Without you it is empty.”
“Oh, little firebrand.” He buried his lips in a tangle of her hair and crushed her to him. “What arrangements have you made for your clan?”
“Brenna will be the MacAlpin.” She smiled. “Without Gareth MacKenzie to divide them, the Borderers have united to stand against any English attack. Though I fear Brenna’s greatest challenge will not be with the English, but with our sister, Megan.”
Brice laughed. “Aye. The lass is like another I know.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Be very careful, my lord. We are not yet wed.”
“Nay. But Angus and Mistress Snow are below stairs now planning their wedding. And if we are wise, we will ask to share their ceremony on the morrow.”
“Oh, Brice. Could we?” She caught his hand. “Let us go below and speak to them.”
She was surprised when he resisted. Before she could tug again on his hand he dragged her roughly against him and covered her lips with his. Instantly she felt the rush of desire that begged for release.
“We will talk with them later.” The words were ground against her lips.
They sank to their knees on the fur throw. His fingers moved to the buttons of her gown.
“My men…”
“Will be invited to a wedding on the morrow. But for tonight, my beloved, just let me love you.”
Love. “Oh, Brice,” she breathed against his lips. “I love you so.”
“And I love you, Meredith. So much.” His fingers began to weave their magic. His lips moved over her, igniting little fires wherever they touched. “Welcome home, little firebrand.”
Home. Aye. These Highlands were now home. This man, this Highland Barbarian, held her heart.
She felt a welling of so much love. A love that would endure even beyond this lifetime. A love to last an eternity.
HIGHLAND HEATHER
Ruth Langan
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
To Aubrey Langan Bissonnette.
And to her proud parents, Carol and Bryon.
And, of course, to Tom. Founder of the dynasty.
And the beat goes on.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter One
Scotland, 1562
The sudden, shocking silence of the tranquil summer afternoon alerted Brenna to danger. It was as if a cloud ob
scured the sunshine. The birds disappeared from the trees, their chorus abruptly cut off. Even the insects seemed to stop all movement, all buzz and whir and hum.
Seventeen-year-old Brenna MacAlpin withdrew the dirk from her waistband and hissed through her teeth to her younger sister, “Return to the castle. Now.”
Though fifteen-year-old Megan often rebelled against orders, she recognized that tone of voice. Danger. There was no time to question. She did as she was told and ran.
Within minutes a sea of men and horses swarmed over the rim of the hill. Sunlight glinted off shields of polished silver and hammered gold. The raised standard bore the crest of the hated English soldier known as the Queen’s Savage, Morgan Grey.
The man riding the ebony stallion was garbed all in black. Even his hair and eyes were the color of Satan. Wide shoulders strained the seams of his gleaming sable tunic. His body was lean and hardened from years of battle.
The young woman saw everything, yet she was aware of nothing but the tip of the sword pointed at her heart.
“God in heaven, Brenna. We are under siege. Run,” Megan cried over her shoulder.
Brenna MacAlpin was acutely aware of her younger sister racing toward the security of the castle walls. But she could not move. She was frozen to the spot. It was not fear for herself that held her, for she had lived her whole life with war and death. It was Megan’s life she worried after. She would die rather than see her younger sister harmed.
She closed her eyes a moment, willing the fiery little Megan to safety.