“Daniel would nae have been killed if I had nae been so foolish,” Graham replied sternly.
“Foolish to fall in love?”
Graham rolled his eyes, a nasty habit he had picked up from Vonda. “I fell in love with our enemy’s daughter,” he said pointedly.
Waldron let out a loose breath. “Graham, none of what happened was of yer doin’. Aye, ye fell in love with our enemy’s daughter, but the heart be a ridiculous thing at times.” Waldron looked out at the sea, the waves crashing against the shore. “Nae even I could have foreseen what happened. Nae even I knew the MacFarland was that insane.”
“But—”
“Och, but what?” Waldron ground out. “But if ye had nae done this, or if ye had nae done that?” He shook his head. “Aye, ’twas a foolish thing to sleep with a lass before ye married her,” he said as he scratched his bearded jaw. “’Twas also foolish to hie off to see the world the followin’ day. But even so, ye are still nae responsible for what Phillip MacFarland did. ’Twas his hands that beat that poor lass near death. ’Twas by his order that they set the ambush for Daniel. And ’twas by his hand they hanged them.”
Usually, when Graham thought about what happened to his brother, he felt a tremendous amount of guilt. But something was different now. Instead of guilt, he felt angry. Mayhap his father was right.
“But the most foolish thing ye did was nae to come home,” Waldron told him angrily. “That was what took me a long time to forgive. Ye did nae come home.”
Graham swallowed hard before replying. “I did nae think any of ye, least of all ye, would want me here.”
“Nae want me own son here? What kind of bloody bastard do ye think I am?” Waldron all but shouted.
Not even as a full-grown man was Graham brave enough to answer that question.
Waldron studied him closely for a long while. It was becoming increasingly difficult to look his father in the eye.
“Yer misplaced guilt took ye far from home,” Waldron finally said. “It kept ye from askin’ for that which ye want most.”
“What would that be?” Graham asked.
“Forgiveness.”
Apparently, women were in short supply at the Hay keep, if the seven proposals of marriage inside of three days were any indication.
Seven proposals of marriage.
Leelah knew not one of them were came from love. Nay, these were simply men who had gone too long without a woman. Men who were tired of cooking their own meals, doing their own washing, and warming their own beds, so to speak.
Had she not had four children to take care of, she would have kept herself hidden in the tiny room until she could think of a way out of this mess. Or she would have waited until the cloak of darkness to make her escape.
Her children didn’t know what to make of this odd place or of the men who followed Leelah around like ducklings following their mother.
“I dunnae see why ye cannae write to Graham,” Jamie grumbled. They were in their tiny room, eating their nooning meal. Bored, tired of being cooped up, the children were growing quite restless.
“She already told ye, Graham does nae want us,” Vonda replied angrily. “Quit askin’.”
“Shut up,” Jamie told her as he pushed her over with a hard shove to her shoulder.
Vonda burst into tears. “Ye would nae do that if Graham were here!”
“Stop it this instant!” Leelah shouted.
Her loud voice startled John so much the babe started crying. She picked him up and held him close, patting his back and bouncing him.
Lost, she thought to herself. I feel utterly lost. “Jamie, apologize to yer sister right now.”
’Twasn’t a heartfelt apology, but he said the words.
Oh, what she would not give to have a moment with Graham. She’d strangle him first, then run a dirk right through his heart. He had given her children hope, had given them back the ability to be children again. And just like that, he’d ripped it all away.
He is a cur, she mused angrily. A bloody bastard if ever there was one.
With John properly soothed, she sat him back on the floor. It hurt to see her children so miserable again.
Aye, a cur, a louse, a bloody bastard. ’Twas impossible to stop the tears.
If that be so, then why do ye still love him?
Graham did feel better after speaking with his father. Oh, he still felt a great deal of guilt for what had happened to Deirdre and his unborn child, as well as Daniel and the soldiers who died during the war.
With a sober, clearer mind, however, he was able to see that while he might have set the events into motion, the fault still lay with Phillip MacFarland—may he burn in hell for all eternity. Most men would have insisted the father of his illegitimate grandchild marry his daughter. Most men would have been angry, aye, but they would have made certain the bastard who had gotten her with child did right by her.
But Phillip wasn’t most men. He was insane, evil, and bitter.
Graham would have come home at once, had he known Deirdre carried his child. He would have married her and made a life with her.
But it hadn’t happened that way, so he would have to learn to live with that for all the rest of his days.
Now, he felt guilty for having sent Leelah and the children away. Aye, he was still a louse, a cur of near biblical proportions. And he had no clear idea how to make it up to her.
Graham’s family had welcomed him back into the fold with loving, open arms. ’Twas odd, this business of being home. While he was glad to be back, to see his family, to meet all the nieces and nephews who’d been born in his absence, something was missing. More specifically, someone.
His days were spent getting reacquainted with all those good souls he’d left behind years ago. Much food was eaten, good ale drunk, and stories told. He knew he should be glad for this time spent with his family, yet there was a decidedly large hole in his heart.
’Twas the nights that nearly drove him mad. Alone in his room, left to battle with his empty heart and the too-few memories he had of Leelah and the children. Sleep was next to impossible and only arrived too close to dawn.
On the fifth night, after hours of fighting sleep, the walls began to close in. Every sound—from the chirp of the crickets to the raindrops falling from the roof—echoed to the point of madness. I must get out of here before I lose my mind, he groused silently.
He dressed by candlelight with an overwhelming need to leave his room and the keep post-haste. His skin felt hot and itchy, his muscles coiled and tense. Stealthily, he made his way along the hallway, down the stairs, and out of the keep without being seen.
The cool, damp night air felt good against his skin but did very little to soothe the tension in his muscles. The moon hung low in the starry sky, occasionally hidden by dark clouds. The guards at the gate recognized him and after a brief discussion, allowed him to leave through a small door.
Graham didn’t realize he was heading to the magical glen until he found himself standing at the edge of the pool–a pool that as a child, he’d been convinced held magical powers.
Tonight, the water was smooth, nary a ripple found breaking the black-as-pitch surface. As if it were a mirror, the water reflected the image of the fat, brilliant moon.
Graham sat down along the smooth banks of the pond and took in his surroundings. Nearly every surface was bathed in the silver light of the moon. A soft breeze blew in from the east, tickling at the leaves on the ancient trees and bushes. ’Twas as if thousands of hands were waving to him and a thousand voices whispering welcome.
A sense of calm and peace filled his heavy heart. For the first time in days, he felt as though he could take a breath without worry or dreading it. Soon, his eyes began to feel heavy, the tension in his muscles slowly ebbing. How long had it been since he’d felt this relaxed?
Exhausted, he stretched out his long legs, folded his hands behind his head, and laid back to gaze at the stars. Dark gray clouds crawled overhead
and soon blocked out the moonlight, bathing the land in darkness.
His thoughts soon turned to the woman he missed with all his heart. “I miss ye, Leelah,” he whispered into the black night. “I miss the children as well.”
“Then why did ye leave her?” Came a soft, decidedly feminine voice from somewhere nearby.
Graham shot to his feet, unsheathing his sword. He spun around looking for the source. “Who goes there?” he demanded, turning slowly, his eyes trying to penetrate the blackness.
“Answer my question first, then I shall answer yours,” she replied. “Why did ye leave her?”
Graham spun around again, quite certain the voice was coming from behind him, from the bushes. His heart pounded against his chest, sweat broke out on his forehead. Naught but black as pitch surrounded him; he could see nothing.
“Ye men are all the same,” she said.
Where is she? ’Twas as if she was moving quickly and silently. One moment she was behind him, the next, beside him. Or was her voice coming from the trees? Graham shook his head as if the action would bring forth some clarity. Be I asleep? And how the bloody hell does she know about Leelah?
“I know all manner of things,” she said, as if she had read his mind.
“Who are ye?” he ground out again. He was beginning to feel light-headed as his mind raced for a plausible explanation.
“Answer my question!” she demanded.
Believing it not more than a dream, he decided to answer. “Because she deserves better than me.”
The clouds chose then to move on, allowing the moon to once again bathe the land in silver light. Graham slowly turned around, looking for the stranger.
He came very close to dropping to his knees when he saw her. There she was, hovering over the pond. Hovering. Over. The. Pond.
Her hair was the color of gold, her big eyes as blue as the deepest sea. And her wings, aye, they were wings, shimmered and sparkled in a hundred shades of gold and silver.
“Aye,” she said with a shrug of indifference. “I be the fairy that guards the glen.”
Graham was stunned into muteness.
“So ye let her go because ye think she deserves better,” the fairy said as she flew nearer to him. “Ye are a most selfish man.”
Nearly nose to nose now, Graham swallowed hard. “How am I selfish?” he asked, his voice cracking on the knot in his throat. “I loved her enough to set her free.”
Cocking her head to one side, she stared into his eyes. “But did ye love her enough to keep her?”
Graham thought it a most ridiculous question.
“And that proves me point,” she told him as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye were too selfish to keep her. Too selfish to give yer own heart to her. Too selfish to allow her to love ye back without condition.” She shook her head in disgust and clicked her tongue. “Aye, ye be a foolish, selfish man.”
He remained quiet as her words tumbled around in his mind.
“Ye broke her heart, Graham Keith. ’Tis a most unforgiveable sin. Ye are makin’ Leelah and her children pay for what ye believe to be yer unworthiness.” She lifted herself a bit higher, forcing Graham to lean back in order to continue to look into her eyes.
“But I am nae worthy,” he told her.
“By whose estimation?” she asked with a quirked brow.
“By anyone’s,” he replied. His mouth felt as dry as sand, and his palms began to grow damp.
She fluttered around him, forcing him to spin again. “So, yer family has turned their backs on ye?”
“Nay,” he replied honestly.
“Arrogant, arrogant man,” she replied.
Graham didn’t think himself the least bit arrogant and told her so.
“Ye be foolish, arrogant, and prideful. Ye are goin’ to grow to be an auld man, and ye will die in yer own bed, all alone without anyone around to grieve yer loss.”
The image of himself lying in his deathbed, completely alone, was jarring. Chances were good that what the fairy warned was nothing but the cold, hard truth. ’Twas the most terrifying of thoughts.
“How can I change it?” he all but begged her as his heart continued to crack.
She flew to him, tapped his forehead with her index finger, and said, “Ye have the answers in here.” Next she tapped his chest where his disintegrating heart was fighting for life. “And here.”
Consumed with disbelief, regret, and shame, Graham closed his eyes. He thought back to the ancient stories told to him as a child. Stories of his seven-times great-grandsire, a wicked, cruel man who had found himself in this very glen. As the story went, Bron Keith had—after an encounter with a fairy in this magical place—transformed his cruel heart.
As a child, Graham had believed every word of those stories. However, as often happens with time and age, he’d lost that innocent belief in fairies and magic.
Now here he was, in this ancient glen, having an encounter of his very own. Or, as was more likely, he was losing his damned mind.
Whether ’twas his over-active imagination, his crumbling heart clinging to hope, or insanity, it truly didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the question looming as dark and large as the moon overhead: could he change?
A chuckle bubbled up from his stomach. Hanging his head low, he knew the answer. Yes, he could change, for he already had.
He hadn’t had more than a cup or two of ale in weeks. Neither had he picked up a set of bones or even made an attempt to find someone with whom to gamble. Graham had learned to calm his anger, to put other people’s feelings ahead of his own.
No longer was he the drunkard and ne’er-do-well, and he owed these remarkable changes to one lovely woman and her passel of children. A woman he loved with all his heart, and who, by her own admission, loved him in return.
Leelah saw something in him that he hadn’t seen in himself in more than a decade. She saw the man he truly was and had been all along.
With a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes, fully prepared to thank the fairy for helping him. But she was gone.
11
“Another one?” Leelah was incredulous.
She stood in the gathering room with her children by her side. Laird Hay was sitting on the dais and appeared as though he was getting an ache in his head.
“Aye, another one,” Willem replied.
That is the ninth proposal. “Have ye told these men I am already married?” Oh, how she wished she hadn’t told him that Graham would be seeking an annulment.
“Aye, I have made it abundantly clear,” Willem told her. “But this particular proposal comes from outside our clan.”
Stunned, her mouth fell open. How many single men are in this part of Scotia?
“Well, ye can tell him what ye told the others,” she said, lifting her chin. “The answer be nay.”
“Are ye quite certain about that, lass?”
Leelah spun around at the sound of that particular voice, asking that particular question.
There he stood, Graham Keith, looking just as ruggedly handsome as the last time she had seen him. I hate ye, Graham Keith.
The children, even wee John, rushed to him. “Graham!” they called out, as they raced across the floor. Smiling, he picked up John while the other children wrapped their arms around his legs. It pained her to see her children happily welcoming him. She wanted to shout at them to not get their hopes up, he was only here to get his annulment.
“Aye, I be quite certain,” she bit out. “What are ye doin’ here?”
She found his smile irksome.
“I believe yer laird was just tellin’ ye about another proposal,” Graham said with a nod toward Willem.
“Aye,” she said pulling her shoulders back. “’Tis the ninth one I have received since arriving.” Take that ye cur! Ye may nae want me, but others do, ye big lout.
“Nine?” he exclaimed, looking horrified.
Not for a moment did she feel any guilt at seeing his distress.
; Gently, he handed John to Jamie before crossing the floor. “Are ye quite certain ye wish to say nay to the last proposal?”
Why did he keep asking her that? “Of course I say nay, ye flea ridden louse!”
There was no way he could resist smiling at her. This was the first time since he met her that he’d seen her angry. He found he rather liked it.
“But ye do nae know who has asked for yer hand,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“I do nae care who asked,” she told him bluntly. “After spendin’ three weeks with ye, I never want to be near another man again as long as I live.”
He chuckled, which irked her even more. “So ye be sayin’ I have ruined ye for all other men?”
Affixing her fiercest glower, she took one step forward, her hands on her hips. “Ye ken good and well that is nae what I meant!” She stomped her foot for good measure.
“If I did nae ken any better, I would say ye’re angry,” he told her with a smile.
“Ye’re damned right I am angry,” she replied.
“Why?”
Her eyes grew as wide as trenchers. “Ye are the most obstinate, pig-headed, idiotic, arrogant louse I have ever had the displeasure of meetin’!”
Cocking his head to one side, he said, “Ye be right pretty when ye’re angry. Yer cheeks grow the most bonny shade of red I have ever seen.” He dared reach out to touch her cheek.
She slapped his hand away. “Leave, Graham,” she told him. “Ye can have the annulment ye so desperately want.”
“Good,” he said with a smile and a clap of his hands.
Tears welled in her eyes, her hands shook with fury. “Ye bloody—”
What he did next stunned her so much she nearly swooned. Graham knelt on one knee and took her hand in his. “I only want the annulment so that I might ask ye properly this time, fer yer hand.”
She couldn’t speak.
“Ye have already given me yer heart, Leelah, and the words. Ye cannae take them back. Now, I would like to give ye my heart, if ye will have it.”
With Love from the Highlands : A Highlander Love Story Duet, One Page 27