Highland Salvation

by Lori Ann Bailey

  If the English Parliament succeeded in this scheme, it could lead to the downfall of the king, and at the hand of the Scots, no less.

  After John and he took a seat at a long bench on the raised platform toward the interior of the large hall, he studied the tapestries of the Macnab symbols and ancestors that overlooked the spot and indicated the place of honor. It was similar to the hall at Kentillie, but something about the scene left him cold like his estate in England, instead of feeling fulfilled like he did when he was on Cameron lands.

  Movement caught his eye as a servant appeared in the empty room. While the Macnab heir gave some instructions to the lad, he remembered the conversation he’d overheard outside his door this morning.

  A gaggle of maids had been discussing a lass who had missed her cycle and appeared to be with child. The group seemed quite scandalized. Could they have been talking about Blair?

  John broke into his thoughts as the lad scurried off. “Have ye considered my offer? My father may wed Blair to a Campbell if I dinnae present him with a better option.”

  “Would he risk the wrath of Montrose over such a thing?” His chest tightened. Blair’s union with a clan loyal to the Covenanters would cement the Macnabs’ loyalty firmly on the side pushing Parliamentary rule onto the people of Scotland.

  For his king and country, it was important she marry into a clan with Royalist ties.

  “I dinnae ken. ’Tis why ye must take Blair as yer wife.” John’s stare met him straight on.

  “Ye are no’ yet the laird and cannae make that decision.” Placing his elbows on the table, he clasped his hands and leaned into them, analyzing what a union between them would mean. John pinned him with staunch blue eyes that conveyed the veracity of his intent.

  “I’ll convince him.” The man pinched his lips together, then gave him a bright smile that reminded him of the first time he’d seen Blair smile. It had been when she’d convinced the servants at the Macnab keep they could entertain several of the Cameron clan, after his kin had shown up unannounced just before the late day meal. And she’d been able to pull it off as if the extravagant meal had taken weeks to plan. It had been the first time she’d caught his attention, and he’d been amazed at her efforts and the results.

  “Ye are certain ye can?”

  If her brother had the same uncanny ability to make things happen and win people over that Blair possessed, Finlay would soon be wed to one of the most beautiful lasses in all of Scotland. It would ensure the Macnab clan stayed faithful to the king.

  “Aye. He plans to sign the Solemn League and Covenant. He will want to shore up alliances with Royalists as well, and what better match than to a family favored by the king.” He caught on that John was referring to his English relatives and not the Cameron clan. Not many people knew of his connection to the king, and he’d not been one to parade about the Highlands acknowledging the family that only grudgingly accepted him.

  “Ye canne let him sign the proclamation.” Every muscle in his body tightened.

  “I cannae control what he does as long as he is laird. Blair and I have both tried to talk him out of it. Now ye see how important it is that she be wed to someone faithful to our clan’s beliefs.”

  “I dinnae have my laird’s permission.”

  “Ye can take her to Kentillie and get his blessing.”

  But he wasn’t planning on going to the Cameron keep. He was bound for England to give his family and King Charles an update on the loyalties in Scotland. By coming here, he’d already added time to the journey, a delay he couldn’t afford.

  “That doesnae change the fact she doesnae desire to be wed to me.” Reality set back in. He’d been visiting for years with the Camerons, and she’d not once looked at him with a hint of interest.

  “’Tis nae true. She is just upset about the loss of Henry. She will grow to care for ye.” John’s eyes twinkled as if he’d solved the mysteries of life.

  “Even so, I wish to have a wife who wants me.” His past wouldn’t let him commit to a wife who would not be a partner.

  “Trust me. She wouldnae be averse to ye as a husband.”

  Hope blossomed in his chest. Could he have what he’d always dreamed of? A family that stayed together no matter where they lived, and a woman who could navigate her way through the tedious tasks of life on an English estate?

  A lad from the kitchen peeked into the room, glanced around, and asked John, “Where’s Mistress Blair?”

  Pointing, the Macnab heir absently said, “That way.” The lad nodded and ran after her.

  A lass bounded out of the kitchen balancing two plates in her hands and smiled, then strolled over and set the trenchers down in front of Blair’s brother and him. His stomach growled at the sight of cold mutton, bread, and cheese. The lass turned and made her way back to the kitchen, but his gaze landed on the plate left unattended next to him. It must have been Blair’s. Her pallor had been slightly green when she’d run from the room, and now that he thought about it, she’d been holding her mouth. She might truly be with child.

  If Blair married right away, no one would ever know her secret, but if she started to show, she might end up forced to support herself and the babe on her own. Shoulders drooping, he remembered his mother and the blisters and calluses on her hands from struggling to make his home in Scotland a happy one.

  He couldn’t let that happen to Blair.

  “When will yer father make the arrangements?”

  If The Macnab followed his typical pattern of positioning his clan on a fulcrum between the Royalists and Covenanters, it would be too long. Maybe John could push him into a quick decision. After picking up a piece of cheese, he tossed it into his mouth.

  No wonder she ate it all—the milky, creamy texture was smooth with just a hint of smoke and sharpness.

  “If ’tis no’ ye, I’m sure ’twill take months to come to an agreement. He never does anything without deliberating every outcome and manipulating the situation until he has whatever he wants.”

  Dread snaked into Finlay’s spine. Swallowing the cheese, his thoughts raced as he tried to figure out a way to save the lass from the life his mother had lived without forcing her into an unwanted marriage. But Blair didn’t have the luxury of time.

  He told himself not to worry. It would be different with her—she would find a husband, and no one would hold the babe against her. She was the daughter of a laird of a powerful clan, and she and the babe would be cared for, but the thoughts had a false ring in them. He knew her options would be limited if her state were discovered before arrangements had been made.

  The lad stumbled back into the room, Blair breezing in behind him, shoulders back, head held high, like a goddess ready for battle. All signs of illness erased from her face. They were replaced by the smooth glowing skin and poise of the lass he’d seen all those years ago, the one who knew her way around the castle and could inspire confidence and delegate tasks to accomplish the greatest of feats.

  Blue eyes the color of a cloudless summer day turned to him, and she smiled. Then nodded in some secret way as if apologizing for her behavior of only moments ago. The gesture enveloped him like a caress, despite the distance between them.

  She strode on through the room to be met by a nervous-looking Highlander in the doorway. The slender young man presented her with a box, and a surge of jealousy jolted through him at the smile she granted the interloper, but there was something different to it. Her lips were curved up, but they were stern and set. A resilience and strength of purpose radiated from her, indicating the lad was no lover bringing her gifts to entice her heart.

  Shoulders relaxing, he cursed, letting it bother him that she might be interested in another.

  “Will this be better than the last batch?” Blair’s words carried through the hall. All the authority of the lady of the keep were infused in them, dripping with confidence and poise.

  “Aye, ’twill, me lady.” Voice low, the man’s head remained dipped, gaze just pe
eking at her through his lashes, showing her the reverence she deserved.

  “Ye are certain these willnae have the same odor.”

  Raising the lid, he swung it up, but it caught on hinges mid-flight. “Aye.” His face lit with a tentative smile.

  “If this batch isnae better, dinnae bother coming back. I’ve reached out to another candle maker. I dinnae mind the tallow ones for outside, but they willnae do in the keep.”

  “Yes, me lady. I promise ’tis the quality ye seek and at a fair price.”

  Her delicate hand reached inside and pulled out a long bleached white candle. Raising it to her nose, she inhaled as the candle maker rubbed his nape.

  She commanded respect from all those she dealt with. Finlay found himself intrigued, wondering where her skills had come from and why he’d always seen her taking care of these tasks and not her mother. Despite her small stature and gentle lilting voice, she was a fierce negotiator and ran this castle like she was the one in charge. And better still, she understood numbers, a skill that to this day eluded him, because they pranced around in his head causing it to ache.

  He needed a wife who could run a large estate, and those were hard to find in Scotland. The English lasses wouldn’t speak to him, not that he would consider a priggish Sassenach for a wife. Blair might not care for him, but she was what he needed. Still, she’d never really looked at him.

  John cleared his throat, and his eyebrows were raised as if to say, I know what ye are thinking.

  “All right,” Finlay blurted as the beat of his heart increased, certain it was the prudent decision for his clan, country, and king. She was a Royalist, and it would be a good match for the Camerons and King Charles if their union could keep the Macnabs from joining the Covenanters. “But only if she says yes, and only after yer father and my laird have approved of the match.”

  “I’ll get his approval.” John’s grin turned triumphant, the man’s gaze turning back to Blair. “Ye will both be happy.”

  He still wasn’t sure. “I have two conditions. Ye will join us on our way to Kentillie as a chaperone.”

  “I can do that. What else?” John relaxed, leaning back and popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.

  “We have to leave today.”

  Chapter Three

  After dealing with the candle maker, Blair turned to see John’s crooked smile spread into a satisfied smirk. He’d made some plans for her she probably wouldn’t be pleased with. She inched her way toward the table, wondering why her brother’s grin reminded her of the time he’d pushed her off the cliff into the freezing cold water.

  Finlay, on the other hand, stared through her as if she were an apparition. His slack jaw tightened, and he glanced away as if embarrassed to be caught in the act. As she inched closer, his golden skin reddened, making him look like a boy of fifteen instead of a man several years her senior.

  His gaze met hers and held her mesmerized. It was the first time he’d focused his regard on her long enough to pull her in. She was caught in a web of thick dark wisps of lashes which framed intriguing eyes so intense they screamed for attention. They were blue on the outer rim, then gray, and just around the black was a warm chocolate sun that spread out from the center.

  Enthralled, she found herself wanting to study what some may call hazel eyes, but there were hidden depths, and she’d been pulled in like a child seeing the stars for the first time. How had she never noticed him before?

  And what had her meddling brother done now?

  She blinked then reminded herself to breathe. After a sharp inhale, a wave of tension evaporated, and Bruce’s ultimatum faded to the back of her mind. She would contemplate that unpleasant business when she had a moment alone. She walked toward the men and slid into the seat next to Finlay.

  As they continued to stare at her, she asked, “What are ye two about?”

  After raising her glass, she took a sip of the warm ale she’d left untouched earlier. Her appetite was ruined; she ignored the food. Curious, she gave her brother a sidelong glare meant to say “what have ye done.”

  “I have arranged for ye to wed Finlay.”

  Shrinking back at the surprise, she gulped and gasped for breath.

  The brawny Highlander seemed to bristle at her reaction, the only indication he was part of the conversation. His stare met her straight on as he held his shoulders and head strong. He was a warrior, a Royalist, and a protector to her friend, Kirstie. He was a good man.

  Fear of rejection hid deep in the depths of his hazel eyes, but also pride. She knew that feeling from her own failed attempts to gain her father’s affections.

  Could he be the answer to her prayers? Bruce’s demands had left her paralyzed with fear, but something inside her recognized this man could be her salvation.

  Did she deserve a husband like Finlay after what she’d done? It was too soon to rush into another hasty betrothal, but Bruce had left her little choice.

  He must have taken her silence as a denial, because he pushed back to stand, showing he was above her dismissal. “I believe it is time for me to take my leave.” She’d never heard him sound so formal, so cold, almost English.

  “Nae, dinnae leave.” Her heart skittered and almost stopped as her hand clasped onto his arm. Finlay’s gaze drifted to her hand, but she didn’t remove it. Swirling, multicolored eyes climbed her arm to meet her stare, causing warmth to spread, a flush she wasn’t familiar with. “Ye just caught me unaware. Give me a moment.”

  This might be her only opportunity for deliverance, her chance to have a good life with a decent man, a supporter of the king and her religion. But she was no longer the maiden she had been up until a week ago. She had to confess her secret, wouldn’t let him be brought into a union he might resent when he discovered the truth on their wedding night.

  Tearing her gaze from Finlay’s, she pivoted to her brother. “May we have a few moments alone?”

  “Aye, I’ll be just outside.” John nodded, stood, and strolled toward the door while her heart pounded so feverishly she could feel it in the back of her neck. Heat enveloped her. Her hands trembling, she removed the one on Finlay and clasped it with the other in her lap, hoping to steady them both.

  Her gaze skimmed the room to be certain they were alone. But even so, she leaned in close so that if anyone entered, their conversation would remain private.

  “Do ye really want me, or is John pushing ye into this?” Her pulse thickened, stalling the pounding in her chest as she awaited his reply. For some strange reason, it was important to her that this was Finlay’s choice and not something her brother had pushed him into. She wanted to know that some part of him could care for her. She opened her mouth, but the confession eluded her voice, leaving her throat dry and empty.

  She should be jumping at the chance to marry into the Cameron clan. But his gaze warned there would be something different about this marriage. His eyes held secrets he might not wish to share, and she found herself wishing she’d asked Kirstie more about the man in front of her. She should have paid closer attention when Cameron visitors were in residence. But anytime the large group had visited, she’d focused on making sure the keep operated smoothly. She was so focused on duties, she’d barely gotten to know her friend’s brothers, much less any other men with them.

  She had no illusions any man she married would want her outside of her wifely duties, but she’d learned to make herself as indispensable and important as she could. Would he respect that and reach out to her for advice, or only on cold nights when he wanted a woman to bed?

  She’d thought she had made the right choice with Henry, but her instincts had been so wrong. Could she trust the voice inside that told her Finlay could be a true partner?

  Even so, did she have another agreeable option?

  “Aye, I would be pleased to have ye as my wife.”

  She nodded.

  “And,” Finlay continued, “I am aware ye dinne ken me well, and I willnae claim to be something I’m no’. I
will always be honest with ye, and I can tell ye, I respect ye. I believe marriage takes two people to make a family happy. I will do my best to be a partner, a friend, and someone ye can depend upon.”

  It was the most she’d ever heard him say, and every word of it rang true. Although she didn’t love him, they might be able to make a relationship work. And…she believed that was genuine kindness in Finlay’s hazel eyes, something Henry, his brother, and his cousin all lacked.

  “Ye ken I was betrothed to Henry,” she blurted.

  He closed those beautiful eyes at the mention of her dead betrothed’s name. She willed him to open them again, because he had to know the truth. Honor wouldn’t let her go into this arrangement without him knowing what she had allowed. Nodding, his lids rose, and she met his intense focus straight on.

  Swallowing, she fought back the sting in her eyes as the words spilled from her lips. “He took me to his bed.”

  Finlay glanced through thick dark lashes that hid his reaction. Suddenly, filling her lungs became hard and labored. Would he reject her now? A tear slid down her cheek, and she swiped at it, hoping he hadn’t seen her moment of weakness and cursing herself for letting the monster who would have been her husband affect her so.

  She glanced around the room to be certain they were still alone. Satisfied no one else would overhear, she returned her attention to Finlay. Voice shaking as she fought back the memories, she continued, “I willnae lie to ye. I want ye to ken that I willnae come into the bargain a maiden.”

  Silence greeted her, so she rushed to fill in the void.

  “’Tis all right if ye have changed yer mind. I willnae hold it against ye, and I willnae let John either.”

  “Nae,” his hoarse reply cut her off. Heart sinking at her best hope for a bearable future, she nodded and made to rise.