“Aye, I am more than agreed,” said Gavin.
“And if we send more warriors to France, mayhap some of our men could be spared to return to us, as we also are in considerable need,” suggested Ronan.
“Yes, that would be a help for us all.” Colette extended a hand to the young Mackenzie. “This is not the outcome either of our fathers expected, but I hope we can part in peace and as friends.”
The young Mackenzie took her hand and pressed it briefly to his lips. “Aye, ’tis my honor to consider ye both my friends.” Ronan smiled at Colette and Gavin, and they returned it.
* * *
Everything was planned. Ronan Mackenzie did not wish to tarry, so the wedding was set for the morrow. Pippa lay awake in a large bed in an even larger bedchamber, all by herself. Despite all the excitement of the day and the lateness of the hour, she could not sleep. She had never slept in such a large room by herself, but more than that, her conscience would not give her peace.
With a sigh, she pushed back the soft linen sheets and climbed out of the tall bed. She could not do this. She could not marry Ronan under false pretenses. He thought her a nobly born lady, and she was anything but.
She crept down the hall on bare feet, the cold of the stones seeping into her bones, freezing her feet. It did not matter. She was freezing her heart, so the rest of her might as well be frozen too. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much.
She stopped at the door to his bedchamber. A lady would never enter in the middle of the night. A lady would not have taken note of which bedchamber was his. But she was no lady. She knocked softly and pulled the latch; the door swung open.
She closed the door behind her and paused, scanning the tower chamber. The room was dark, illuminated only by beams of moonlight filtered through the shutters. He was there, asleep in the bed.
She took a few silent steps forward, but he sat up suddenly. “Who goes there?” his voice rang out, strong and sure.
“It is only me,” said Pippa, stepping closer so he could see her.
Ronan’s frown broke into a look of bemusement, and he placed his knife back under his pillow. “Should ye no’ be sleeping?”
“Yes, but there is something I must tell you, a reason why we cannot wed.” Pippa stepped forward until she stood by his bed. He was naked from the chest up, and probably below as well, though covered by the blankets. Her mind took a little detour, and she lost what she was going to say.
“What reason?” prompted Ronan.
Pippa blinked at him. He was so handsome, and a laird, and half-naked. Why was she ruining this? She closed her eyes and tried to remember why she had come. “I am not what you think I am. I am no highborn maid. In truth, I am but an orphan who stole for my supper many a time. I met Lady Colette and Sir Gavin on the road and only accompanied them as her maid because all others had left.”
Ronan stared at her for a moment. It was clear her words surprised him. His warm hand sought hers, and he held it gently. “Why would ye tell me this? Ye could proceed wi’ the wedding tomorrow and no one would ever ken the truth.”
“But I would know the truth. And I would feel like a fraud my whole life. I may be a baseborn thief but I’m an honest one. I cannot play you false.”
“To be a Highland bride, ’tis more important to have honor and courage than a genteel birth.”
Pippa stared at him. What was he saying?
“My offer o’ marriage is yers if ye will have me. We can be an unruly lot, and I prefer a lass wi’ some pluck, if truth be told.”
“You still wish to marry me?” Pippa’s heart, which moments before was crushed, now leaped back to life, surging heat through her body. Even her toes were no longer cold.
“Aye, ye’re brave and honest and true and…” He opened his mouth to continue his pretty speech, but whatever he was about to say was swallowed up by Pippa, who was so excited she grabbed his face with both hands and planted a kiss straight on his lips.
Ronan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her onto the bed. “So ye’ll be my wife?” he asked in a low, seductive tone.
Pippa answered him with a kiss.
Thirty-nine
Colette and Gavin witnessed the marriage of Philippa and Ronan Mackenzie. Colette provided a sumptuous gown for the affair, and Pippa was transformed into the most beautiful of brides for her wedding. Word spread among the Mackenzie clan that he had defeated the ruthless warlord, and his people returned with great joy. Everyone knew the former Baron of Kintail had traded warriors for a French lady of exquisite beauty. No one who looked upon the beaming face of Pippa doubted for one moment that she was not the most beautiful lady of the land.
The warriors who had followed Red Rex easily agreed to the prospect of fighting in France, rather than face trial. Colette felt sure these ruffians would cause the English more trouble than any of her gently bred brethren and wished them all a fond farewell.
The only dark cloud on the proceedings was the unwelcome news that Red Rex had overpowered his guards and escaped, disappearing into the Scottish Highlands. Colette knew he would never repent of his murderous ways, but hoped that he would be less troublesome now, deprived of so many of his followers. Cormac, the unlikely son of Red Rex, never came back for his promised story, though Colette made sure to tell Laird Mackenzie of the service he gave her, so he might be safe if he ever returned.
The next day, it was time for Gavin and Colette to travel home. It was a brisk morning in the Highlands, with a bright sun and a stiff breeze to help them along their way. Colette woke early and watched for a moment as Gavin slept—her husband that none could ever take from her.
Odd how things had transpired along the way. She had begun her journey burdened with many things and ended with the one thing she had not realized she even wanted. It was more than a fair trade.
She rose and sat in the window seat of their tower chamber. It would most likely be the last time she slept in a castle. She ran her hand along the smooth stones, but there was no sadness in the knowledge. She was ready to move on.
She opened her Book of Hours and read a passage from the book of Romans. Et sicut non probaverunt Deum habere in notitia, tradidit illos Deus in reprobum sensum. Colette closed the book and leaned her head back to rest on the stones. The sun rose over the hills, and she smiled into the new day. It was true. “We know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him.”
Colette bounded off the bench and shook Gavin awake. “Arise, my love! For I am eager to get on the road to see my new home.”
Gavin opened a sleepy eye and smiled lazily at her. “Are ye certain ye wish to leave the comforts o’ castle life?”
“This drafty place? Let us be gone from here. I have always thought a farmhouse to be more comfortable.” She met his eye, daring him to challenge her bold claim.
He merely raised an eyebrow but wisely held his tongue.
They dressed and prepared for the journey, both ready to begin their life together. Gavin packed two large horses for their journey overland. They met Pippa and Ronan in the courtyard to say their farewells.
“Please do take good care of yourself and your new husband,” said Colette to Pippa, smiling at her warmly. “And thank you. I do not know what I would have done had you not had the courage to stand by me.”
“It is I who must thank you,” returned Pippa with more confidence and grace than Colette had ever thought possible when they’d first met. “You gave me a chance and helped me through my miserable seasickness. If it was not for you, I may have thrown myself off the boat, but now look at me. I am the mistress of a castle, no?”
“Oui! And you are a lady.”
“I suppose it is true, now that I have married a laird.”
Colette gave Pippa a warm embrace. “You were a lady long before you were married,” she whispered in her ear.
Pippa gave Colette a watery smile. �
��Merci.” She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “But it is nonsense, this talk of us keeping your dowry. It is yours. I shall not be the one to take it.”
“No, dear Pippa, there is a contract and it must be honored. The warriors have already been sent to my father at what has been great sacrifice for the Mackenzie clan. The dowry belongs here. Besides, we must continue on our journey, and Sir Gavin does not like to carry more than what can be shoved into a saddlebag, is that not right, my love?”
“Verra true,” announced Gavin. “Our journey is long, and we must travel light.”
“Is there naught we can give ye to thank ye for all ye have done for us?” asked Ronan, his eyes only for Pippa.
“I hope this will not sound too sentimental,” said Colette slowly, “but my father gave me a special wedding gift. It is some iron kitchen utensils. My father made me promise I would cook a meal for my new husband and I would like to honor this request.”
“Aye, take anything ye wish wi’ my blessing,” said Ronan, who was paying little heed to all around him in favor of gazing into Pippa’s eyes.
The heavy utensils were soon found and tied to a pack mule along with what remained of Colette’s personal belongings. Someone called for a mounting block for Lady Colette, but Gavin waved it off. Instead, he knelt before Colette, his hands open before her.
She smiled down at him and placed her foot in his hands, allowing him to toss her into the saddle. A jolt of tingly awareness shot through her at his touch. He was still the most handsome man she had ever known and had the power to send chills down her spine at a mere touch.
Gavin and Colette traveled by horseback over the countryside to his homeland. There was no question of leaving the baby, so Colette wore her in a sling. The goat and the pack mule followed along behind.
It was summer, and they were able to make good time to reach their destination. Throughout the journey, Colette never felt more alive. Unlike her journey to Scotland, which had been fraught with danger and anxiety, traveling with Gavin as husband and wife was a joy. They rode through verdant forests dripping with bright green moss, galloped over windswept fields of purple heather, and climbed over rocky passes.
Finally, the road led into a fertile valley bordered by tall, craggy cliffs. They arrived in the evening when the sun’s rays touched the high peaks, setting them aglow with fiery light. It was a formidable and impressive site, the rocks, harsh and jagged, against the valley, lush and green.
Gavin turned to her and gave her a wide smile. “Welcome to yer new home, m’lady. Those high peaks are the Braes o’ Balquhidder. The tower house built into the rock there is Creag an Tuirc, the seat of the MacLaren clan, where my uncle is laird.” He glanced at Colette with uncharacteristic nervousness, as if concerned she would be displeased.
“It is the most beautiful place I have ever seen,” said Colette, hoping to appease his fears. “You told me the day we met that your homeland was more beautiful than any lavish great hall. Faith, sir, you spoke the truth.”
“I’m so glad it pleases ye.” His face lit up with honest pleasure. “Ahead is the village o’ Balquhidder by the shores of Loch Voil. ’Tis good fishing this time o’ year. They will all be surprised to see me, I warrant.”
The dirt path meandered past fields, swaying in the gentle breeze. Before them was a modest farmhouse, nestled comfortably into the landscape as if it belonged there as much as any tree or boulder. Gavin dismounted and opened the gate, leading their horses through. He latched the gate behind the horses and reached up and helped her down.
She expected him to set her down, but instead he took her easily into his arms and carried her over the threshold, into the farmhouse. Finally, he set her down, saying somewhat anxiously, “Well, here we are. This is my home. I ken it is no castle.”
The farmhouse was larger than the crofters’ huts, but certainly of modest, albeit well-built construction. The front room boasted a wooden floor and large stone hearth. A table and benches were in the middle of the room. A doorway to the side led to the kitchen, another door led to what was probably a bedchamber, and a steep staircase, more akin to a ladder, led to what must have been a loft. Though smaller than any place she had lived, it had a pleasant feel.
“It is home,” said Colette with a smile. She walked around, noting the furnishings that had been stored along the walls, waiting for the return of the master. She even found a cradle and placed the sleeping baby inside.
“Can I help ye, sir?” asked an elderly man, shuffling into the farmhouse. He stopped short when he saw Gavin. “Well, bless my soul. ’Tis Gavin Patrick. How are ye, my boy?”
“Verra well and glad to be home. Could ye tell Laird MacLaren I’ve returned?”
“That I will, and yer mother and Sir Chaumont as well, for they are a’visiting.” He left at a fast clip before Gavin had a chance to introduce his bride.
Gavin gestured around at the humble wooden furnishings. “I canna give ye what ye deserve,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You have given to me your whole heart, a gift I do not deserve and only hope to repay you by giving you my heart in return. The first day we met, you tempted me with the gift of freedom. It has been a long journey, but you have given me this gift, this freedom, which means more to me than any item listed on my dowry. And best of all, I am with the man I love.”
Gavin gave her a wide smile, wrapped her up in his arms, and swung her around the cozy main room.
“Gavin!” A middle-aged, buxom woman stood in the doorway with tears in her eyes.
Gavin set Colette down and opened his arms wide. “Mother!” They ran to greet each other with a warm embrace.
Colette smoothed her hair and made sure her veil was in place and proper. She was nervous to meet her mother-in-law for the first time and hoped to make a good impression.
“I was so scared I’d ne’er see ye again. Ye stayed so long,” chastised Gavin’s mother, but then she pulled him into an embrace once more. “I’m so glad ye’re home.”
More people entered the farmhouse: a tall, handsome, distinguished gentleman and a large, barrel-chested Highlander followed by a lovely lady with flaming red hair.
“Mother,” said Gavin, once he was able to break free of her warm embrace. “Please allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Marie Colette, the daughter o’ the duc de Bergerac. May I present my mother, Lady Mary Patrick and my stepfather, Sir Chaumont.” The tall, handsomely dressed knight bowed and gave her a winning smile.
“My dear boy is married! Welcome, my love!” Mary embraced Colette with as much enthusiasm as she had her son. “I am so pleased to meet ye.” Any anxiety Colette might have felt in being accepted melted in Mary’s loving arms.
“Daughter of a duke, eh?” said Sir Chaumont with a decidedly French accent. “Glad I made an impression on you in the choice of your marriage partner. Well done, my lad!”
“Please let me also introduce my uncle, Laird MacLaren, and his wife, Lady Aila,” continued Gavin, once his mother had finally released Colette.
Laird MacLaren, a large and fearsome man with a wicked scar down his cheek, gave her a quick nod. “Glad the lad chose well. Welcome to Clan MacLaren.”
Lady Aila was next to greet her. She gave Colette a shy smile. “I am so glad ye’ve come. I’m sure we shall be the best o’ neighbors.”
Relief flooded through Colette at the warm reception.
“Now we should leave the two newlyweds alone to settle in,” said Chaumont with a mischievous wink.
They all began to leave but stopped short when little Marie Frances chose that moment to wake from her nap, greeting the world with a lusty cry. Colette turned to pick up the tot and then faced her new family, who stared at her, then all slowly turned to Gavin, their eyes asking for explanation. Colette’s heart sank. Would they understand?
“We found a baby in our travels, orphaned a
nd left for dead by the English,” said Gavin.
“Bastard Sassenach!” growled MacLaren.
“And ye rescued this wee babe? What a kindhearted lass ye are,” cried Mary, giving Colette and Frances another hug. “What a day! Let me know if I can help ye in any way,” she called as Chaumont led her back out the door.
When the door swung closed, Colette collapsed onto a bench. “I was so nervous they would not accept me.”
“Not accept ye? They will love ye as I do and that’s the end of it!” stated Gavin in complete confidence.
“In that case”—Colette laughed, regaining her feet and her confidence—“I believe I need to act in obedience to my father and make you a meal in our new home.”
“My love, I am no’ the richest man, but I’m not entirely impoverished. These lands belong to me, so dinna fear ye must live wi’out the benefits of a cook and maid.”
“‘’Tis good to know, but my father instructed me to do it myself and I shall see it done. At least,” she added with a rueful smile, “on this, our first night together.”
“Do ye ken how to cook?” asked Gavin hopefully. It was a fair question, since on their journey he had done all the outdoor cooking when they had not been able to stay at an inn.
“Not in the least. I suspect you will no doubt wish to employ a cook in the future, but tonight I shall try on my own.”
Gavin relented and unpacked the goods and the heavy iron given to her by her father, bringing it into the kitchen. Colette found a large iron pot and, after several failed attempts and an embarrassing request for assistance from Gavin, lit the fire. Soon she had water boiling in the hanging cauldron over the fire. She carefully chopped a parsnip and threw it into the pot, followed by a carrot and some cabbage, hoping to make something edible.
She took one of the heavy, long-handled spoons her father had given to her and stirred the pot with it. As she stirred, she realized with horror that her entire stew had turned black. Could she have possibly burned it? She pulled out the spoon and screamed.
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