by Sara Bennett
Meg felt her heart flutter. “My father…?”
“Is safe,” Malcolm assured her, “but a little shaken. Shona is all right, and Kenneth was out with us. ’Tis Barbara Campbell who was taken.”
Barbara Campbell? Gregor looked at Meg and saw the same confusion in her face that must be in his.
“Are you certain she just dinna go off somewhere?” he asked.
Malcolm Bain gave Gregor a grim smile. “It seems while we were all off searching, Barbara suddenly felt verra weary from her journey. She went upstairs to take a nap, and decided upon Lady Meg’s room for her wee sleep. Lorenzo’s men came creeping, and went straightaway to that room. It was dark. They bundled her into a cloak and were away before she could make them understand she wasna who they thought she was.”
Gregor closed his eyes briefly. If Meg had been here, if she hadn’t been with him in the cave…
Malcolm Bain went on. “The general heard her screams and tried to stop them. He thought they had ye, Lady Meg.”
“Father!” Meg gasped, and Gregor heard the fear in her voice.
“Is the general hurt?” he asked. Best to know the bad news at once.
Malcolm Bain’s expression was grave. “He’s a braw man, lad, but I fear the experience hasna done him much good.”
Swiftly Gregor dismounted and lifted Meg down after him. “I must see him,” she said, and set off at a run for the door.
“I canna believe it,” Gregor said flatly. “They came here, under our noses, and stole a woman from her room?”
“The house was all but empty, Gregor. Alison and Shona were in the kitchen, only Barbara Campbell and the general upstairs. ’Twas not such a feat for them to take her.” Malcolm Bain paused, gave him a sideways look. “What do ye think Lorenzo’ll do when he realizes his mistake?”
Kill her, Gregor thought, meeting his eyes in the half-dark.
“Aye,” Malcolm Bain said with grim agreement, as if Gregor had spoken aloud. “That’s what I thought, too.”
Inside the house, people were standing about as if not sure what to do, their faces long and worried. Alison gave a cry of relief when she saw Meg, running to hug her. The cheek she pressed to Meg’s was warm and wet with tears. “My lady, we thought ye taken for sure!”
“No, no, I am quite safe. Where is the general?” she asked, heading for the stairs.
Alison hurried after her. “In his room, my lady. He was verra shaken, poor man. But do ye know about Barbara Campbell? She was taken by Lorenzo’s men! The silly creature was asleep in your room, thinking herself mistress of the house, no doubt! They thought she was ye!”
“Then I pray they do not hurt her when they discover she is not,” Meg murmured hastily, all but running up the stairs. Her father had tried to stop the armed men; he had tried to save Barbara. If he was not badly hurt, then it would be a miracle.
The general’s room was just as ablaze as the rest of the house. The old man sat up in his bed, thin beneath the quilt, his body tense as he heard his door open. “Meg?” His voice quavered.
“Oh, Father! You are not hurt?”
He shook his head, but he looked pale and the hands he held out to her trembled violently. There was a red mark on his jaw where someone had struck him. Meg felt her throat close up and had to swallow, grasping his hands, while she restrained her emotions.
“I tried to stop them,” he was saying. “I heard the screams, and I found my old sword by the door there, and went to save you…. I thought they had you, Meg. Now they’re saying it’s some other lass I don’t know….” He shook his head in confusion.
“Barbara Campbell, Father. She was resting in my room.”
“Well, when I heard this Barbara screaming, I went out onto the landing with my sword. I waved it about in the direction of their voices, so that they would think I could see them. For a time they believed me, but then I mistook the sounds they were making and they realized I am only an old, blind man.” He looked as if he might cry. “If only I could see again. If only I were of some use to you all!”
“You are of use!” Meg cried fervently. “How can you say such a thing, Father? I have never heard of anything braver than what you did! One man against so many—and yes, a blind man. You are a hero—everyone in Glen Dhui will say so, and they will be right.”
The general’s gloomy expression lifted, and he managed a shaky smile. “So I am a hero, eh, Meg?”
“Yes, Father, you are.”
“Oh, Meg, I thought it was you they had….”
She went into his arms, and they were quiet, just relieved to be safe and together. After a time the general sighed and released her. “You are a good girl, Daughter. After I…after my act of heroism,” he said wryly, “Alison told me you’d ridden off and they were all looking for you. Gregor found you, didn’t he? You should always look to him when there is trouble—he will never let anything happen to you. You know that, Meg, don’t you?”
Meg stared back into her father’s blind, blue eyes, so very like her own. “I do, Father.”
“Lady Meg?” Alison had come into the room behind her, dark eyes intent. “Some of the men who rode after Lorenzo have returned. They say that Lorenzo is taking Barbara Campbell south, onto the Duke of Abercauldy’s estate.”
Meg’s heart sank. As much as she disliked Barbara Campbell, she had to feel sorry and concerned for the other woman. Barbara, whatever her shortcomings, didn’t deserve this. She had come to Glen Dhui Castle for sanctuary, and instead had been kidnapped by strangers. And what would happen to her once Lorenzo and the Duke realized their mistake, if they hadn’t already? Would they vent their anger and frustration upon her? Would they hurt her, or worse?
“What will we do?” she asked aloud.
The general’s eyes were closed, and it was Alison who answered.
“I dinna know about that, my lady, but ye must be tired and hungry. I have supper ready.”
Meg managed a smile. Heartless as it seemed, she realized she was ravenous. From long experience, Meg knew she would be able to think much better if she had something in her stomach.
“Will you eat with us, Father?” Meg turned to the general, but he shook his head.
“I will sleep, I think, Meg,” he said in a fading voice. “Now that I know you are safe, I feel the need to sleep.”
Meg kissed his cheek and followed Alison from the room. Gregor was standing in the Great Hall, several men gathered about him.
For a moment Meg paused, looking down, selfishly enjoying the sight of him. With his hair loose about his shoulders and his shirt barely disguising his muscular chest, while the faded kilt showed off his trim hips and long, strong legs, he was certainly a sight to behold. After their time in the cave, Meg knew she would never doubt him, or run from him, again.
There was a certain, quiet grimness about the group around him, and it made Meg pause in her pleasant thoughts, a terrible premonition coming to her.
He wouldn’t!
But she knew he would. Because it wasn’t really a premonition, it was a deep knowledge of the man, of Gregor Grant. Emptiness opened up inside Meg, and she felt suddenly so dizzy that she had to grip the wooden railing.
As if sensing her gaze, Gregor looked up and met her eyes. His expression told her what she already knew. He was not the sort of man who would let a woman be hurt if it was in his power to save her. Even a woman like Barbara Campbell.
“They are taking her to Abercauldy,” Gregor said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I must try to get her back, safely.”
Of course he must. So Gregor would go to Abercauldy, who already hated him, and plead for the life of a woman he did not even like, who had betrayed him and manipulated him and hurt him. He may well die by Abercauldy’s hand, or that of his men. It was possible that Meg may never see him again.
It was on the tip of her tongue to plead for him not to go, to beg him to think of himself, of her…but she didn’t. Meg had learned enough of the
Highlands and its proud men to understand that honor was prized very highly, sometimes more highly than life itself. And if Gregor did not go to Barbara Campbell’s aid, if he stayed at home and let her die, then his honor as a laird and a man would be worth nothing.
“When will you go?” she asked quietly.
Her question made him smile, but there was no humor in it. “At dawn.”
I will come with you.
The words were there in her mouth, but she knew there was no point in speaking them. Gregor would not allow it, and as Lady of Glen Dhui, her place was here in his absence. He needed her to be here. He would ride into danger and Meg, like so many women throughout the ages, would wait for him to come home.
We have tonight.
That single thought filled Meg as they sat down to eat, as Gregor huddled together with his men one last time, issuing instructions, offering advice, murmuring praise. Soon they would be gone, and she and Gregor would be alone.
We have tonight.
Of course he will come home again! she told herself, but it was bravado. Deep in her heart, there was a terrible fear that maybe tonight was all they would have left of their life together. These memories would be all she would have to keep her warm after this night. It seemed very unfair. She had only just discovered love, and now she might lose it.
But we have tonight….
At last they were alone, the door of the bedchamber closed behind them, the candle flame dipping and diving in Meg’s shaking hand. As she set it down, his arm came around her, easing her back against his chest, his warm mouth nuzzling against the side of her neck.
“Do not be afraid for me,” he murmured. “I have set myself tougher tasks and won through.”
“Gregor—”
“I know what you are thinking, morvoren. You are thinking Abercauldy will take out his spite against me, but I am confident I can talk sense to him. He is an intelligent, educated man. He will listen to reason.”
Would he? Meg doubted it, but she bit her lip and did not say so. She would not send him away with all her own fears weighing him down. She would not!
She turned in his arms, linking her fingers behind his neck and smiling up at him with serious blue eyes. “Come to bed with me, Husband.”
His mouth curled at the corners. “Gladly, Wife.”
It seemed to Meg that in so short a time she had grown to know Gregor so well, to love him so well. Perhaps she had always loved him, the sensitive boy and the tough man. She had been wrong to think of them as separate; they were one and the same. Wonderingly, Meg realized that she had in fact loved him most of her life.
And when at last he lay upon her, thrusting deep, so deep, it was as if he would claim every part of her. Perhaps this night they would make a child. Did he seek to console her with a baby if he did not return? Meg knew she would love a baby of his, a child to grow up here at Glen Dhui with Gregor’s amber eyes. But it would not be the same if Gregor was not here to watch it happen. It could never be the same without Gregor.
“You will come back to me,” she whispered, in the aftermath of their passion, her fingers stroking his hair, his head resting warm and heavy on her breast. “You will come back to me, Gregor.”
It was not a request; it was a command.
“Meg—”
“Because if you don’t, I warn you now, I will come and fetch you home again.”
Gregor lifted himself up on one elbow, gazing down into her face with a look of deep tenderness. “Do ye remember, Meg, when ye came to the Black Dog and stood by my table in that terrible place and told me ye had come for me?”
Meg was entranced by his intensity, but she managed a yes.
“I thought you were an angel.”
She laughed, but he put his fingers against her lips, warm and calloused and so gentle.
“I was more dead than alive before you came to me that evening, Meg. I was breathing, but my heart had stopped. Since I had lost Glen Dhui, I had existed, alone, a stranger in my own country. But you have brought me more joy in these past weeks than I have felt in all the years that went before. If I did not live another day past this moment, I would still be a fortunate man for what you have given me, Meg.”
“I love you, Gregor,” she whispered, her eyes blurred with tears.
“Och, Meg, my Meg. I want to give you a child,” he murmured against her lips. “I want to make a child with you.”
With a groan he slid over her, plundering her body with his, insatiable for her. And Meg gave herself up to him, felt her body melt into liquid fire in his arms, drowning in him and wishing this one night could last forever.
He was her own true love, the dream she had longed for. It was a truly bittersweet moment.
“Lady Meg is asleep?”
Shona was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her lovely face tired and serious, and showing its age.
Alison nodded brusquely, moving about, preparing food for the morrow, keeping busy. The men would need to take something with them, and she meant to make certain they were well provisioned. Besides, she did not want to stop, because then she would have to think. She did not want to think.
“She must be worried,” Shona went on. “Captain Grant is a braw man, but even the bravest can be hurt, and worse.”
“He will be safe,” Alison replied stubbornly.
“They say ye have the sight,” Shona said. “Do ye see that then, Alison? Do ye see that he will be safe? Tell me what ye see.”
Alison cast her an agonized look.
Shona went still and then sighed. “Aye, ye see something, don’t ye, poor lassie. Tell me what it is; such things are easier to bear if ye share them.”
Alison’s hands stilled, and she stared into space. I dinna want to know, she thought. Please, I dinna want to know. But the words came anyway.
“There is a death. I’ve known it since the wedding, but I dinna know who will die. It might be the Laird, it might be another. I canna tell Lady Meg. How can I tell her that her man might die?”
“Dinna tell her,” Shona advised, her eyes on Alison’s pale, tense face. “What of ye? Does yer man ride to the duke’s castle tomorrow?”
Slowly, Alison continued with her preparations. “I have no man, Shona.”
“I thought,” she began, but when Alison turned and glared at her, she changed her mind and shrugged instead. “Well, of course not. I’ll leave ye to yer work. Good night, Alison.”
After Shona had gone, Alison stood still and quiet. She should go to bed, she supposed. She should. But all she could think was that Malcolm Bain would be riding tomorrow to the Duke of Abercauldy’s estate, and he might not come back. He had already left her once, and now he would do so again. The last time, she had grieved for twelve years, and when he had finally returned, she had done nothing but abuse him.
She put a hand to her eyes and rubbed them viciously.
He deserved to be treated badly! He had abandoned her, with Angus on the way, and…and…He had left a letter for her. Duncan had finally told her the truth about that. He had not walked out on her without a word, he had left a letter to tell her why he was going, begging her understanding, asking that she forgive him. Telling her he loved her.
It made a difference.
She had loved this man all her life, and even when she hated him it had been an all-consuming passion. He was a part of her, and Alison knew she could not let him go away again, not without making some sort of effort to reconcile their pasts.
With a soft, hissing curse, she flung down the bunch of kale she was holding and hurried from the kitchen.
He was in the stables. She had learned from Angus that that was where he slept. Running so that she could not slow down and think and maybe change her mind, Alison reached the dark building, entered it, and went straight to the ladder up to the loft. It rattled a little under her weight as she climbed, her mouth set in a straight, determined line. By the time she poked her head through the opening, he was wide awake.
H
e was sitting up, straw sticking to his hair, his eyes sleepy and blinking, his hand on his sword.
“Alison?” he said, and there was complete shock in his face. As he watched her climb off the ladder and step toward him, a mask of wariness hid all other feelings.
“I’ve come to say I do understand,” Alison said, and her voice was breathless and wavering and strangely high. “I do understand why ye had to go with the laird, why ye couldna just leave him. Ye had a duty. Ye had to look to him, and put yer own feelings and wishes aside. If ye had not done that, then ye’d no’ have been Malcolm Bain MacGregor.”
Malcolm Bain rose slowly to his feet. He was watching her intently.
“But ye put my feelings and my wishes aside also, Malcolm Bain. Ye sacrificed yer life to the laird, and that was yers to do, but ye sacrificed me and Angus, and that was no’. Ye should be sorry for that.”
“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “Ye canna know how sorry, Alison. I look back, and I wish I could change what I did. I wish so much I could change it.” His voice broke and he swallowed, bowing his head.
Alison blinked, and suddenly the spell was broken. His shoulders were shaking. Malcolm Bain was crying!
“Malcolm? Mo nighean?”
He didn’t move, his face hidden from her, his wild hair hanging down to shield him. It was as if he had been stripped bare. “I have nothing,” he said now, in a harsh, angry voice. “I left ye and now I have nothing. I will die alone, and my son will never know me.”
“Malcolm,” she whispered, and found that by taking one step, and then another, she was close enough to stroke his arm, and then close enough to place her hands, one either side of his bowed head, and raise it upward.
His craggy face was ravaged, his blue eyes swimming with pain and regret, and it was at that moment that Alison decided she would not hold on to her bitterness and anger any longer. She had justice on her side, perhaps, but what was the use of being right if it meant she was unhappy? She had loved this man, and she thought she just might love him still. He was Angus’s father. And he was a good man, a fine man. Was it possible that they might make a life together, now, and put the past behind them?