Highlander's Moonlight Seduction (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance)

by Adamina Young

  “’Tis only my ankle and my ribs,” she assured him, but he could see her struggling to focus on him. The head wound was still bleeding. “Put me down, Connor.”

  “I willnae, Wife. Ye have just sworn to uphold my wishes, and my wishes right now are to see ye cared for.” He did his best to smother his panic. It would not do for her to realize the depths of his fear. If he lost her now, he didn’t think he would be able to survive.

  By the time the healer was finished examining her, he was pacing furiously outside the locked door. The grizzly old woman opened the door and glared at him.

  “How is she?” Connor demanded urgently.

  “She will live,” the healer announced. “She is to stay off that ankle and move as little as possible for at least a week. Her head has stopped bleeding, and her pain is subsiding. Now then, are ye going to let me look at that shoulder?”

  “Aye,” Moira called from the bed. “He will.”

  It was nearly dawn before they were finally alone. Careful not to jostle his wife, Connor crawled into the bed next to her. “I thought I had lost ye,” he said hoarsely.

  “I would think by now ye would realize that I am not disposed of so easily.” Slowly, she nestled under his arm and closed her eyes. “’Tis over, Connor. I honestly thought I would never see the day that the truth would finally come to light. There are no more barriers.”

  None except for her own fears that he would break her heart again. “I heard what ye said to Ainsley,” he admitted. “I thought ye didnae believe that I loved ye.”

  “She was going to murder me. I would have said anything to distract her,” Moira said lightly.

  His heart fell. Ainsley was locked in the cells beneath the keep, but her actions were still between them. Would he never be able to scale the wall that she’d erected around her heart?

  Maybe if he kept his promises, if he assured her that he would never ask of her more than she was willing to give, he could pull that wall down stone by bloody stone. Even if it took years, he would win his wife’s heart.

  “Now that the danger has passed, ye can return to yer cottage,” he told her. “Although, I would ask that ye remain here for a week to heal. I am leaving tomorrow to escort Ainsley to the King’s court. I will return after the trial but I doonae know how long that will be.”

  “I wish that I could travel with ye, but I am certain that ye will ensure she sees justice. Will ye declare war on Covington?”

  “I will see how the trial unfolds. Covington is an old man. His heir is a grandson, and by all accounts, he is a good lad. Covington willnae fight the battles, but the grandson would, and I doonae relish the thought of killing a good leader.”

  “Enough blood has been shed,” Moira said dully. Exhaustion laced her voice, and he gently withdrew so he could pull the blankets up around her.

  “Sleep, Moira,” he murmured as he kissed her forehead.

  “Ye will wake me before ye leave?”

  “Aye.”

  Hours later, when he stood over the bed and watched her chest rise and fall, he could not ignore the ache that came with the realization that this might be the last time that he saw her in his bed, for he did not have the heart to tell her what the healer had told him in private.

  Moira had conceived. Until they knew the sex of the child, she was no longer obligated to perform her wifely duties in bed.

  Knowing that he did not have the heart to wake her, he was not sure he could speak to her knowing that she would remove herself from his chambers. He broke his word and quietly left without saying goodbye.

  24

  My dearest Moira,

  I have watched you blossom into a beautiful young woman during these months with us. I know that there are those who speak unfairly about yer people, but the Hamiltons are one of the bravest clans I know, and I can see that you have their fighting spirit. It is with my wholehearted blessing that you join our family.

  As I write this, I know that you are too young to marry. Connor will wait for you to blossom, and in the next coming years, the love you have for each other will only grow. It is everything that I wanted for him. As a mother, and one day you will know this as well, we want only the best for our children. Strength and intelligence, respect and kindness, and so much love. With Connor, there is the pressure as heir, and I feared that he would never find the balance he needs to rule a clan and be true to himself, but I believe that you will be the bridge for him.

  I wish that I could tell you life will be easy, but even love can only desperately hold on when things get hard. Be patient with him and be patient with yourself. Above all else, trust that the sun will always rise, and every day is a chance to start over and repair.

  I hope to live long enough to see the two of you blossom together, to bounce children on my knees, but a trusted source has informed me that it is not to be so. I write this letter now so you will know that even if I am not there in body, I am there in spirit, and I am so very happy that you will be a Sinclair.

  Love him, and love yourself.

  * * *

  It was the first time she’d been able to open the letter from Connor’s mother. He never brought it up, and she never asked if he’d read his. Part of her didn’t believe that she deserved anything in that chest, and the other part feared what the letter would say. Maybe, after all this time, she’d discover that the Sinclairs had secretly hated her and wanted her to leave.

  Of course not. They were the wonderful people that she remembered so well.

  The letter had come too late, though, and she feared there was nothing left to repair.

  Grace tried to convince Moira once again to stay in the laird’s chamber, but two weeks had passed. Her injuries had healed, and it was time for her to move to the cottage. After all, it was the arrangement that she and Connor had come to. It was what she wanted.

  Standing in the doorway, she put a hand to her stomach where her babe was growing and tried not to cry. She’d thought for certain that she and Connor might be able to start anew now that the threat was gone between them. That she might be able to open her heart to him, to admit that she loved him, but he’d left without saying goodbye, and he hadn’t sent a single missive since he’d been gone.

  Two weeks. Two weeks and no word from her husband. No idea what was happening to Ainsley. She should have told him about the child before he left, so he’d have something to return to, but she hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t been ready to retire to the cottage and away from Connor’s arms.

  A soft breeze lifted her hair, and she turned to close the door. Instead, she found that it was already closed. “Strange,” she murmured to herself. The windows were closed as well. Maybe there was still a hole in the roof that the men hadn’t patched.

  Although, it would have been an awfully big hole to allow a breeze to blow through.

  Trust your heart.

  Moira spun around. “Who is there?” she demanded.

  Trust your heart and let him in.

  Gasping, she placed a hand over her stomach as her whole body grew warm. Not uncomfortably warm, but it accompanied a strange but pleasant tingling sensation. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

  “No,” she whispered. “It’s not possible.”

  A faint aroma swirled through the air, and Moira closed her eyes and let a distant memory sharpen in her mind. Connor’s parents, stealing a moment to themselves by the large window overlooking the courtyard. There had been something so sweet in the way the laird had leaned over to kiss his wife, and the smile on her face, knowing that her husband loved her. Knowing that the one she loved was in her arms. He passed a small glass vial to her hand, and she’d opened it, lifted the vial to her nose, and giggled like a little girl. From her spot in the corner, Moira had been able to smell it as well. The faint aroma of orange and peach. Perfume that the laird had gotten for his wife.

  The moment had struck Moira, and she realized that it’s what she wanted. Her own parents were cordial to each other, but there
was no love between them. What Laird Sinclair and his wife had was rare, and Moira desperately wanted it.

  You do have it.

  Tears pricked her eyes, and she turned and threw open the door. “I can’t,” she muttered to herself. “I’m imagining things.”

  Let him in. Your child deserves it. You deserve it.

  “My bairn.” Freezing in the doorway, she closed her eyes and let the ghostly voice wash over her. She’d believed in love. She’d wanted it more than anything, and she had it, for a time, with Connor. If she truly shut herself away in this cottage, with her child, would she be teaching them that love wasn’t necessary? Love wasn’t worth it?

  Turning, she walked back into the cottage and faced the ghosts. “I do love him,” she said, her voice quivering. “I love him desperately, but if I give in to that love, and he hurts me again, he rejects me again, how will I survive it?”

  “Moira.”

  This time, it wasn’t a ghostly voice speaking to her, but flesh and blood. Her husband. Slowly, she turned and stared at him. His eyes were bloodshot as though he hadn’t slept in days, and he hadn’t been able to shave. His hair was dirty and unkempt, but to her, he was beautiful.

  “Ye are back.”

  “I traveled back alone. My men are still a few more days behind. I wanted to travel quickly so I could give you the good news.”

  “Ainsley?”

  “Sentenced for treason. The king sent his guards for Covington as well for his role.”

  “Ye didnae stay for the execution?”

  “There was something far more important that I needed to see,” Connor said softly as he stepped inside. “Who were ye speaking to?”

  “Ghosts,” she said honestly.

  “Aye? And they made ye realize that ye love me?”

  He’d overheard. “Connor…”

  “I cannae promise that I willnae hurt ye, Moira. I intend to spend the rest of my life cherishing ye, God willing it will be a long one, and I tend to be thickheaded, but I will never reject ye again. I love ye, Moira, and I will do whatever it takes to make ye understand that. Even if it means letting ye stay here, away from me, while ye decide what ye want.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  A small smile tugged on his face, and hope bloomed in her chest. “I know, my love. The healer told me. ’Tis why I hurried back. Nothing, not even vengeance, could keep me away from ye and our bairn.” He took a step toward her.

  “I learned it days before Ainsley attacked. I was so scared that she had hurt it. I should have told ye, but I wasnae ready to leave yer arms.” Tears streamed down her face. “I do love ye, Connor, and I know that ye love me. I have been a stubborn fool, letting the past keep us both from happiness, but no more.”

  Unable to stay away from him any longer, she raced into his arms and eagerly welcomed his kiss. There was a sweet heat to his kiss, an underlying hunger, but he was gentle as he held her. Pulling away, he dropped to his knees and pressed his head against her belly. “Our child,” he said in wonder.

  “I want our child to have parents who love each other as much as your parents did,” she told him as she ran her hands through his hair. “That’s the realization that I came to. I don’t want to fight what I feel for you any longer.”

  Stiffening suddenly, he pulled back and glanced around her body. The air shifted in the small cabin, and he stood, his face full of surprise. “Mother?” he asked. “Father?”

  “Miriam really could speak to ghosts,” Moira laughed. “Unless we are all going mad.”

  “They are saying goodbye. They are leaving.”

  To see their son happy and moved on from those dark days is all they wanted.

  Then they were gone, and a stillness settled in the air. Connor searched the room for a moment, but there was no anxiety on his face. Finally, he reached his hand out to hers, and she took it without hesitation.

  “All those years ago, I asked ye to marry me,” he said quietly. “Happy birthday, Moira.”

  “Oh, Connor, ’til this moment, it was the happiest of my life.”

  They walked from the cottage—away from the fears that had ruled her for so long—and toward the future she’d always wanted.

  25

  Six years later

  * * *

  “Ye cannae defeat me for I am a great and mighty Sinclair!” the lass bellowed from the top of her lungs before she lunged from the large oak cabinet against the wall. With a roar of panic, Connor lunged for her and caught her just in time.

  On the floor, her three-year-old brandished the small wooden toy sword. “I am a Sinclair too!” he declared.

  “Aye, ye are both Sinclairs,” Connor said gruffly as he lowered his daughter to the floor. In the kitchen, he could hear a wail of determination from his other daughter, a wee lass of six months. Heaven help me if she grows up to be like her older sister! There would be no containing them!

  “Papa, he is to be laird,” Maria said as she lowered her sword and blinked her crystal blue eyes at him. “I must prepare him.”

  “I am certain that ye will do a fine job, but our first priority with Tyree is to get him to sleep through the night. Then we can prepare him to be laird.” Reaching down, he picked up his son, who was far more interested in smacking the sword against things rather than playing with his sister.

  The past year had been a trying one. At five, Maria acted as though she were going on twenty and determined to take care of her siblings. In that, she reminded him of himself.

  She also had the stubbornness of her mother and the wild streak of her aunt. She was a force to be reckoned with, but Connor wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Tyree had been sleeping just fine until the third child entered the world, and now he was more content to watch over his baby sister than to get any sleep himself. The poor tyke was falling asleep right in the middle of dinner, but nothing they could say would get him to change his mind.

  “Did I hear the victory cry of a Sinclair?” Moira asked as she carried the sleeping infant into the room. Maria immediately ran to her, and Moira dutifully bent down so her daughter could give her other daughter a sweet kiss on the cheek.

  “I am teaching Tyree to be laird,” Maria announced, “and I am training to be a warrior!”

  “Are ye now?” Moira raised her eyebrows and looked at Connor.

  He just shrugged. “I could never make a lady out of Grace, and I wouldnae change her for anything. I have accepted my fate to be blessed with strong-willed women.”

  “When do Alec and Cora arrive?”

  “Ye had already gone to bed when the messenger arrived. They should be arriving any hour now.”

  “Uncle Alec and Aunt Cora! And Duncan and Helena!” Maria shrieked and jumped up and down. She adored her cousins, and her excitement could not be contained which was why they had to wait until now to tell her.

  “Aye, so ’tis a bath and a dress for ye,” Moira said with a jerk of her head. “Go on. Bellamy is waiting for ye.”

  “Aw,” Maria groaned, but she hurried up the steps to meet her terrible fate of looking the part of a lady. It wouldn’t last long. Within an hour, there would no doubt be a tear in her dress and dirt streaked along her face. Like her mother, she very much enjoyed gardening.

  “Are ye certain that ye are up for this? No one will think poorly of ye if ye need rest,” Connor told her quietly. Shifting his son to his other arm, he leaned down to gently kiss his wife on the forehead and stare down at his daughter. She was a miracle for sure. Complications had arisen when Moira bore Tyree, and the healer was certain that Moira would not conceive again. When she did, he fretted the entire time, and while the labor went smoothly, she still seemed more drawn than usual.

  He wanted her to rely on their nursemaid more, but Moira claimed she could not bear to be away from her kids for long.

  Connor understood exactly what she meant.

  “If I get tired, then I will not push myself,” she assured him. “But we have not seen Alec
and Cora since Tyree’s birth, and I want to spend time with them.”

  “Ye are the most wonderful wife that a man can ask for.”

  “Aye,” she said mischievously as she looked up at him. “I am.”

  “I have not been a good husband. I did not uphold my marriage vows.”

  She first blinked in confusion, and then a small smile curved over her face. Their wedding had been years ago, but he still remembered it like yesterday. The defiant gleam in her eyes and the stubborn push of her shoulders.

  The beautiful vision that she made, standing next to him, vowing to put her life into his hands.

  “Aye. Ye vowed to leave me my own heart, and yet ye stole it anyway like a thief.”

  “And I will never give it back. Ah, Moira, I love ye more now that I ever thought was possible, and in another five years, I will love ye even more. Ye have my heart just as I have yers.”

  He leaned in for a tender kiss and a promise of what might await her tonight if she was not too tired, when a shriek of indignation sounded from above followed by the wails of an infant in Moira’s arms.

  “Which daughter do ye want?” she asked in amusement.

  Connor put Tyree down and reached out to take the bairn. “’Twill take a constitution stronger than mine to get Maria into a dress.”

  “Next time?” Moira said suspiciously.

  “Next time.” Glancing down, he winked at his son.

  “I saw that.”

  I want to thank you for reading my Novel!

  I have written a complimentary

  epilogue for you!