The Highlander’s Destiny

by Wine, Mary

  Perhaps there would be an heir.

  It was a tiny flicker of hope but one far overshadowed by the odds stacked against it.

  Naught ever came from worrying, but it gave Orla the strength to finish her chore. She walked the last few paces to a small door. As a competent Head-of-House, she knew where every chamber was. She rapped on it once before entering. A candle was lit inside the chamber. Una sat on a stool beside the made bed. There was a small bundle on the bed.

  “I see ye expected me,” Orla remarked.

  Una nodded. “I hoped ye’d be the one to come. We have known one another our entire lives. One last moment with a friend. So much better than a noose and a masked executioner.”

  Orla spent a moment in recollection. There had been summer days filled with games in the heather. There had been weddings when they had danced and danced with all of the exuberance of youth.

  And now, there was the duty of being the adults who had to make the difficult decisions.

  Una stood up and took the cup Orla held. She wasted no time in draining it. Likely worried she’d be denied a quick death if she argued.

  “We were friends once,” Orla assured her quietly. She sat down on the stool as Una lowered herself onto the bed.

  Una offered her a small smile. She recalled a melody from childhood and began to hum it. Orla tilted her head to one side, listening before she joined in.

  Orla finished the last bit of the song herself. She pinched out the candle before leaving the chamber.

  It was another chore finished. And like all chores, they were done for the sake of having a good home to live in. Orla sought out her bed, resting, at last, in comfort because her home was safe.

  Chapter Eleven

  There was a soft rap on the outer door in the morning. Cora went to answer it quickly.

  Cormac Grant stood there. He offered her a nod as she got a look at his green eyes. He walked over to the door and pulled it wide.

  “Me father is raving mad.”

  Cormac was facing away from her still. His body was tense. She heard him draw in a deep breath before he turned and looked at her.

  “It’s a poor excuse. All of the matters of the Grants have fallen to me, and it’s me duty to shoulder it. I placed me trust in Lirkin. A matter I apologize to ye for, lass.”

  “He placed greed above the good of the clan,” Cora offered. “It is something we must all be on guard against.”

  Cormac nodded. He considered her for a long moment. His gaze was sharp, and Cora stood in place, looking straight back at him.

  “Ye are a fine woman, Cora Mackenzie,” he complimented her.

  “A married one.”

  Cora turned so fast her ankle nearly buckled. She had to blink, but Faolan was leaning against the doorway, his dark eyes open, even if his eyebrows were lowered in pain.

  “And do…nae forget it, Grant.” Faolan pointed at Cormac.

  “Christ, man,” Cormac muttered. “What are ye doing on yer feet?”

  Faolan chuckled. The sound was weak, but his lips curled up. “I’m no’ ready to be buried just yet.” He looked at Cora. “Me wife refuses to be cheated out of our years together.”

  Cora trembled. From head to toe, her body reacted to the knowledge that he had heard her.

  But he was as white as the shirt he wore.

  Cora gasped. “Ye’ll go straight back to bed, Faolan.”

  She hurried toward him, still locked in wonder over seeing his eyes open. Was she trapped in an enchantment? Her soul willingly embracing fantasy because reality was too cruel? Her hand shook as she reached for him. Cora felt his heartbeat as she got beneath his arm. Cormac took his other side as they walked Faolan back to his bed.

  Faolan growled. “If ye’ve a mind to be helpful, Grant, share some whisky with me.”

  Faolan settled back into bed. Cormac reached into his jerkin and withdrew a costly silver flask. He unscrewed the top and offered it to Faolan.

  Faolan took a large swig of it and let out a satisfied sound. Cora smiled. It was a huge, likely ridiculous-looking expression. Anyone watching would have known she’d become a fool muddled by love.

  And she didn’t care.

  Not one bit.

  *

  Brynna carried a tray down from the laird’s chamber. There was a smile on her lips as she made her way to the kitchens.

  “Brynna.” A man stepped into her path. “I have missed ye so!”

  Cameron plucked the tray from her stunned fingers and set it aside before he swept her up in an embrace.

  “What are ye doing?” Brynna recovered enough to demand.

  Cameron set her down. He was tall with wide shoulders, and her heart still did a little flip as she set eyes upon him. He cocked his head to one side and gave her a questioning look.

  “I have nae seen ye since I brought ye here,” Cameron informed her. “Can I no’ be happy to see ye, woman?”

  Brynna stared back at him. She was at a loss as to what to say. Orla suddenly appeared, and the Head-of-House was worrying her lower lip. Brynna reached up to see if she had a fever, for the day had suddenly turned so very strange.

  “Me son was up in the pastures,” Orla said. “He’s just now returned.”

  There was fear in Orla’s eyes. Brynna had never seen her looking so vulnerable. For a moment, Brynna battled the urge to lash out at the woman who had banished her to the tower.

  But it had turned into Brynna’s greatest fortune.

  “I was deep in thought.” She smiled at Cameron. “I’m sorry. It has been strange here.”

  Cameron grinned. He hugged her close again. Brynna pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  No.

  It was, indeed, Cameron. All of the love she’d locked away suddenly burst through the door she’d sealed it behind.

  “We need to get the pair of ye wed,” Orla remarked from behind them.

  Somewhere in the kitchens, there was a clatter as someone dropped a tray. Brynna felt tears gathering in her eyes.

  Love was truly life’s greatest blessing.

  *

  Cormac Grant and Rolfe stood on the steps of the McKay stronghold. Their men were making the horses ready to ride.

  “Ye’re a fool,” Rolfe told Cormac bluntly. “Cora McKenzie is a fine prize of a woman.”

  Cormac turned and contemplated Rolfe. “Well, ye and I are fine company, then, for ye did nae keep her when ye had the chance.”

  “Too easy,” Rolfe defended himself. “She walked right into me stronghold. Perhaps some men like that sort of docile female.”

  “I think I will enjoy telling Cora Mackenzie that ye have labeled her docile.”

  “Be careful, Rolfe.” Buchanan emerged from the great hall. “Life has a rather twisted sense of humor. Ye might just get what ye ask for.”

  Rolfe wasn’t repentant in the least. He stretched his arms wide and grinned. “I am ready!” he announced to the sky before he went down the stairs and swung up and onto the back of his horse.

  “Young fool,” Buchanan muttered.

  “Ye can nae be so different,” Cormac said. “Or there is no way Cora would have become the woman she is.”

  Buchanan grinned. “Perhaps ye have a point.” He leveled a serious look toward Cormac. “Do nae forget to live yer own life, man.”

  Buchanan moved down the steps as the Munro rode out of the gate. His men were eager to leave, and so was he. His wife was at home. He mounted his horse and turned to wave at his sister. Cora was leaning out of the window in her husband’s chamber, unwilling to leave his side.

  She was happy.

  It was the one thing he’d never expected to find. Now that he had, Buchanan turned himself toward home and his young family.

  Cormac was the last to go. He felt restless and had no desire to hurry back. That was a sad thing, for his home was a place he wanted to avoid. He was a fool for not bringing Cora back as his bride.

  She’d have made Munro Castle into a home
.

  Now that he’d missed the opportunity, he found himself dragging his feet because the likelihood of there being another woman with the sort of strength the clan needed in a mistress was slim indeed.

  More like nonexistent.

  About the Author

  Mary Wine has written over twenty novels that take her readers from the pages of history to the far reaches of space. Recent winner of a 2008 EPPIE Award for erotic western romance, her book LET ME LOVE YOU was quoted “Not to be missed…” by Lora Leigh, New York Times best-selling author.

  When she’s not abusing a laptop, she spends time with her sewing machines…all of them! Making historical garments is her second passion. From corsets and knickers to court dresses of Elizabeth I, the most expensive clothes she owns are hundreds of years out of date. She’s also an active student of martial arts, having earned the rank of second degree black belt.