A Highlander’s Love: Highlands Ever After

by Adams, Aileen

  All the way, he’d imagined what Tyra would suffer if he never returned. How long would she wait? Where would she go once she’d given up hope of seeing him again? Would she mourn him? Or would she curse his memory?

  This was no longer a question, as he had returned unscathed. The lass would likely tear him to bits. He could only hope to make her understand how necessary the journey had been.

  For what other reason would he venture so far from home with a price on his head? He’d done his fair share of foolish things in the past, but he’d not taken leave of his senses. He did not wish to die.

  The aroma of that evening’s supper hung in the air, waking Dougal’s stomach. He’d not eaten anything save the few bits of bread and cheese which Enid had gathered for him before he’d left. There was a loaf of bread sitting beneath a linen cloth, more cheese, butter. He would wish for more than this meager fare, but it was a start. He’d watched starved animals attack their food with less aggression than he attacked the bread just then.

  He hardly endeavored to be quiet about his feasting, and as such roused the dogs. They ran into the kitchen, knocking into each other in their eagerness to be near their master. He greeted them warmly and with more than a touch of sadness. “Ye have served me well, and been fine companions,” he assured them. “I could never thank ye enough, either of ye.”

  Enid had cared for them, left behind by the man who’d assisted Dougal in training them from pups, and she would care for them again. Knowing it brought him a degree of comfort.

  Truly, now that matters were settled, there were only two heavy weights on Dougal’s chest.

  One, how he would manage to get away without being captured.

  The other, how Tyra would react when he explained what needed to be done.

  There was little time to lose. He had to speak with her, to get the whole matter out of the way. He could not move forward with his plan until he’d done so.

  Gnawing on what was left of the bread, he went to his study to gather a few things. There would be a limited number of items he’d be able to carry. What could he not live without? Very little, he realized, knowing he could leave his books behind, his furnishings, even most of his clothing.

  There was only one thing he could not live without, and it was not a thing. It was a woman.

  He dashed up the stairs, energized now that he’d eaten. There was so little time to waste—the sense of urgency pushed him along, as well, until he was as giddy as a lad at play.

  “Tyra?” he murmured, knocking on her door. “Are ye awake, lass? Might I speak to ye?” He did not expect her to answer quickly, though he had no intention of leaving her to sleep. There was too much to be said, too much he’d thought of during the days of riding, watching, listening. Little else entered his thoughts. Only avoiding capture, and the woman who compelled him to avoid capture.

  There was no sound of stirring. No rustling of bedclothes. Only a moment after he’d knocked did the door swing open to reveal a stormy-faced Tyra.

  How the sight of her caused his heart to swell. How he longed to reach for her, to hold her close. He raised his arms, in fact, compelled to pull her in.

  She gave him no time, turning away, going to the fire. There was a chill in the air, in fact, the first hint of autumn finally settling in. “So you thought to return.”

  That was it. Nothing more. No expression of relief or gladness. Not even a cross word.

  “What is the matter with ye? I’d expected ye to shout at me until my ears rang once I’d returned,” he admitted with a soft laugh.

  His laughter died when Tyra responded with a cold glare. So this was how she chose to be angry with him. She would ignore him, refuse to speak. He knew not whether he preferred this to shouting.

  “Have ye forgotten how to cut me down with a well-chosen word?” he asked, still endeavoring to lighten her mood. “I’d prepared myself for your anger all along the way, in truth.”

  “You believe this is amusing?” she hissed, her lip curling in disgust. “I feel otherwise.”

  “Forgive me,” he murmured, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his head slightly. This was not done for show—she had a way of reducing him until he felt roughly the size of an ant. “I ought not jest about it.”

  “Correct. I have spent these three days worried to the point of illness over you. How could you leave without telling me where you intended to go?”

  “I—”

  “You claim to care for me,” she continued, her voice still low. Dangerously so. There were situations in which a quiet voice could convey a greater threat than a shout. This was one of them.

  “I do.”

  “Yet you would put me through such agony? Why? To what end?”

  “Need I explain it again?” he sighed. “There are limits to a man’s patience, lass. I can only repeat myself but so many times before I tire of the sound of my voice.”

  She cast her gaze upward, sighing.

  “I might ask a great many questions of my own,” he continued when it was clear he’d not gotten through to her. “Why do ye insist upon ignoring my wishes? I tell ye time and again how important I consider your safety, yet ye behave as if I’ve never spoken. I do this for ye. Only for ye.”

  “You left me wondering for three days whether you were alive or dead for my sake?” she laughed. “Pardon me if I cannot bring myself to thank you for that. I am too angry.”

  “Because I left ye here? Ye were not alone.”

  “Because you take too many risks! What if you’d been captured?”

  “Captured?”

  She threw her arms into the air. “Arrested. What if you’d been arrested?”

  It was his turn to lower his voice. “Why would I be arrested?”

  “You know why just as well as I do. What did you expect from me?” she demanded when he let out a growl. “The last I saw of you, Colin Ramsey closed a door between us at your bidding. I doubted he’d paid a call to ask after your health. By supper, you’d left without explanation or any hint as to when you planned to return. What was I to do?” Her voice broke at the end, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

  He could not allow himself to soften simply because he’d upset her. This was too important. “So ye believed it gave ye permission to steal into my study and go through my things?”

  “So I might know where you went! And why. You never tell me why. I had to ride to Iona—”

  “Ye rode to Iona?” he bellowed, beyond the point of caring whether he frightened her while marching across the room, meeting her before the fire. “When I told ye to remain in the house? Ye dared ride for Iona’s house?”

  “Yes!” she shouted up at him. “I did!”

  “Why would ye deliberately go against what I ordered?”

  “Because learning what became of you was more important than my safety!”

  She stole his breath, leaving him with nothing to say. For a moment, the only sound in the room was that of their heavy breathing.

  Until he reached for her, drawing her to him, cutting off anything she was about to say with a kiss. He could not help himself. To think of her caring more for him than she did for herself… it seemed beyond belief. No one had ever loved him that much before.

  He wanted no one else to ever love him. Only Tyra, for the rest of his life, no matter how long that happened to be. Now that he held her, kissed her, delighted in the feel of her heart hammering against his, he wanted the rest of his life to be long, indeed.

  When he simply had to bring an end to it or else risk breaking the limits of his self-control, he buried his face in her hair. “Tyra. My Tyra. My lass.” He clung to her as a man would cling to that which held the power to save his life.

  She’d done no less than that. Were it not for her, he might not be compelled to do what he’d set about doing. He might not be half as determined to save himself.

  Instead of melting against him, whispering sweetly as he wished she would do, Tyra worked her way out of
his embrace. “No. No more of this. I cannot take it.” She brushed off her dress, her hair, as if brushing off his very touch.

  “I dinna understand,” he admitted, watching her, his hopes fading.

  She threw back her head, hair shining in the firelight, eyes blazing hotter than any inferno. “I have decided to take my leave of you for good. I will live with Iona until I find employment. No longer will you worry about me—and no longer will I worry over you.”

  22

  He could not possibly know how it hurt to speak those words. Worse than any physical pain, the sort of announcement a person got through all at once simply to be finished with it.

  If she’d hesitated even a moment more, Dougal’s passion and tenderness might have been her undoing. She’d come so close to losing herself, to breaking her resolve.

  This had to be done. For his sake as much as her own.

  “What are ye on about?” He sighed, throwing his hands into the air, staring at the ceiling high above their heads. “After what just—”

  “Do you believe a kiss will change anything? Truly?” She might have laughed were it not so terribly sad. All of it, from the first. Why had Fate brought them together to no purpose other than driving them mad with thwarted longing?

  “Not a single kiss,” he admitted. “Though I’d hoped ye would not say anything as foolish as what ye just insisted.”

  “Foolish?” She raised her closed fists, wishing she could use them to throttle him. Perhaps some sense might leak into his head. “You believe it foolish that I wish to make your life easier by removing myself from it?”

  “Whatever do ye mean by that?”

  “I mean you worry for my sake. You do as you do because of me, because you fear my being in danger. Is that not the truth? Do not lie to me.”

  “Aye, ye speak the truth. I have only tried to tell ye as much these last weeks, and ye refused to listen!”

  She raised her fists again, shaking them. “Because I know now the full extent of the danger you are in! Now, I understand everything. Now, I see why you wished to leave me out of your troubles. What you did not understand was how simple it would have been to confide your troubles and tell me my presence complicated matters!”

  He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. “How would that make matters simpler?” he asked at last.

  “You might have told me you were in danger of the English! You did not need to explain precisely what the charge might be or whether the allegations were true or not. I would have needed nothing else but that. I would have gladly gone. You would have been rid of me.”

  “What if I did not wish to be rid of ye?”

  “Why do you make this so difficult?” It might have been easier if he’d reached inside and torn out her heart. “I am trying to do what is best. Please, let me do it while I have the strength to go.”

  He reached for her, but she backed away. “I mean what I say, so please, do not touch me. I cannot bear this.”

  His arms fell to his sides. “Tell me. Why are ye so determined to take your leave? Is it because ye fear arrest? Because I have stained your name?”

  This was worst of all. The stricken expression on a face she loved so well. Would it be better to agree, to tell him he’d guessed correctly? Or should she tell the truth, that she feared he would not run to save himself unless he knew she was taken care of?

  “I wish to lessen your worries,” she decided, speaking quietly. Simply. Meeting his gaze, though it broke her heart to do it. “You might take care of yourself now.”

  “I intend to.”

  “Oh.” His abruptness took her breath away. He was angry, she supposed, and she’d expected nothing less.

  Yet he did not appear to be angry. In fact, something had changed in him. Was it a smile which caused his lips to twitch? “Would ye like to know how I intend to take care of myself, lass?”

  “Y-yes. I would.” What was happening? What had she failed to understand?

  He sat in the high-backed chair near the bed, now smiling fully. “Forgive me, but I am nearly exhausted and face quite a journey. As I said, I intend to take care of myself. By riding for Edinburgh before this night is over. I expect the going ought to be easier once I’ve put enough ground between this region and myself.”

  “But there is English presence in Edinburgh, naturally.”

  “Naturally.” He leaned forward, forearms over his knees. “Do ye know what else they have in Edinburgh? A harbor. Ships. Ships which sail for distant lands. Including America.”

  “America?” she barely whispered, too taken aback to find her voice. “So far?”

  “Aye. So far. As far as I can go. It was Colin who suggested it. I was not prepared to go—not just then, ye understand. Now, I have nearly finished my preparations.”

  How could he do this? How could he announce his going so casually, as though it would mean nothing to her to learn she would never see him again? Certainly, she’d been prepared to leave him and she’d known what that would mean, but there seemed to be no call to treat this as a joke.

  “I see. That is a wise decision.” She ground her teeth together, determined to pretend a bravery she did not feel. As if this meant nothing at all. “I hope you shall have a safe journey, and that you find peace in the new world. I will pray for you,” she added before the threat of tears silenced her.

  “I am certain I shall need your prayers,” he nodded. “We both shall.”

  “Both? You intend to take Enid with you?”

  His face fell. “Enid? Ye… believe… Enid?” Laughter burst from him, filling the room and coloring Tyra’s cheeks.

  “Do not laugh at me!” she shouted over his braying. “Stop that! Why must you torment me?”

  “Ye believed I meant Enid? Tyra, I imagined ye were having a bit of fun with me, lass. Now I see ye were serious. Tyra!” He stood, arms extended. “Do ye not understand how I love ye? How there is no life for me without ye? How I wish for ye to come with me to America, that we might build a life together?”

  “You meant you and I?” It was all too confusing. “Sailing to America?”

  “Tyra.” She did not fight when he took her by the waist, pulling her to him. “Do ye love me, lass?”

  Did she? “Yes,” she whispered, nodding, a lump growing in her throat.

  “Come with me, then. I swear, I shall make good by ye. I shall do everything in my power to be the man ye deserve. There is nothing in life for me without ye, lass.” He pressed a brief kiss against her forehead. “I have never loved before, and I never shall again. No one but my bonny Tyra.”

  She sank against him, his heart hammering wildly beneath her ear. “I do not know what to say.”

  “Say ye will, then,” he murmured, laughter in his voice while his breath stirred her hair.

  “It is such a long voyage, is it not? I have never sailed so far before.”

  “Ye shall have me with ye, dinna forget that.”

  “What of Enid? What of your estate?” She looked up at him, startled at his having not considered what he would leave behind.

  Still, he smiled, stroking her hair. “I have arranged for the house to be cared for by Enid and Endorra—my solicitor is taking care of everything. I would not leave Enid with nothing, and she would wish to have her sister with her.”

  “You went to see your solicitor?”

  “Aye. I did. I knew what needed to be done and spoke of it with Enid before leaving. She understands I must go and wishes to see us both safe.”

  It was all happening so suddenly. Could she do this? Say goodbye to everything she’d ever known? “What of Iona?” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. There was no need for him to answer. She knew she’d never see her friend again.

  Rather than try to comfort her, Dougal sighed. “Tis a great sacrifice, I know. Never would I ask ye to turn away from all ye have known if there were any other choice. I cannot live here, in Scotland, and I dinna wish to live without ye. If ye cannot leave, I… will do my best
to understand.”

  At least he did not lie and promise all would be well should she choose to send him on his way. She would know if he was lying.

  What was there to do? Could she send him away on his own, never knowing what had become of him? Whether he’d made it to safety, whether his attempt at building a new life was a success?

  “I cannot imagine it,” she whispered, placing a hand against his cheek, looking into his eyes. There was so much love there. “Not even for an instant.”

  “Cannot imagine what?”

  “Never knowing whether you’d made it safely. Never seeing you again. Never hearing your voice, never listening to your tales. Never arguing with you when you insist on thwarting me.”

  “Does this mean ye shall go?”

  “Yes,” she beamed, tears beginning to fall. “It does. What other choice do I have?”

  23

  “I heard he sailed for France before they could take him.”

  “A fine thing. Ne’er shall they catch him now.”

  “Aye, and they’ve been twice as bloodthirsty as before, dinna ye forget it.”

  Tyra looked to Dougal, walking beside her. The slightest shake of his head was all she needed. He knew what the men they’d passed discussed just as well as she did, but he did not wish for her to lose heart.

  Bonnie Prince Charlie had escaped, or so they’d heard upon reaching the outskirts of Edinburgh. People whispered of the prince’s escape from the English soldiers, thrilled that he’d managed to outsmart them.

  And it was thrilling, truly. Dougal had taken pains to listen for word of Charles Stuart’s progress at every village they’d reached along their ride to the sea.

  He’d been ever so worried for the man. She’d feared hearing the worst at every tavern, at every crossroads where men and women shared gossip. Had feared her love’s hopes would be dashed by the news of the prince’s capture.

  Now, they could breathe a bit easier. He’d escaped as they planned to.