Highland Heartbreakers

by Quinn, Paula

She wanted nothing else but doubted it would ever happen. “Do ye know what he wants to see me about?”

  Jamie shook his head. “He’s been unusually quiet.”

  When they were younger, if Alex had something on his mind, he’d disappear. Normally, she’d await his return. But on one occasion, she sought him out. The memory of his warning echoed around her. “Leave before ye discover the man I truly am.”

  She heeded his words. What he meant exactly, she cared not to find out. The ominous look on his face had been enough.

  And now, she imagined Alex the same way.

  “I prefer to stay here,” she said.

  “I understand. But I must take ye to him,” there was determination in his voice.

  “Ye have forgiven him, completely?”

  “Should I not?”

  “We are flawed creatures,” she responded. “Forgiveness doesna come easily to a Highlander, but holding a grudge does.”

  “He is my kinsman.”

  “Aye. Laird John was his brother and couldna forgive him for leaving.”

  “And now ye fear Alex willna forgive ye for doing the same?”

  “Can ye blame me? Look what he has done to me already, Jamie. For the sake of the happy memories we share, please let me go. Turn yer back and I will slip away.”

  “Holy mother of Christ.”

  “I’ve offended ye?”

  “Ye put me in an awkward position, lass. Isna my sympathy enough? Now ye ask me to deceive my laird?”

  “I am desperate and very much alone here. What purpose could he possibly have for keeping me?”

  “Ye are not alone. I am here, and there are others who understand why ye abandoned John. Some who respect yer fidelity to Alex over yer duty to yer sire.”

  “Then why havena they made themselves known?”

  “And risk losing their place in Clan MacKay? Come now, lass. Ye know better.”

  “We were friends, Jamie.”

  “Aye. As far as I am concerned, we still are.”

  “May I ask a favor?”

  “If it is within my power to give.”

  Keely walked to the table and poured herself a cup of water. She took a sip, then offered Jamie a drink. He refused. “Make up an excuse for why I canna see Alex.”

  He frowned at her request. “Nay.”

  “Please.”

  “Begging for the impossible is below ye, Keely. Ye’re a brave lass. Face him with courage and speak yer mind. He respects honesty more than cunning.”

  She snorted. “Alex doesna wish me to think, only to obey.”

  Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Coming home has reopened his old wounds. Show him that a future here is better than going back to Constantinople.”

  “From what I hear, the council has tried over and over again and failed. Maybe he belongs there.”

  Jamie immediately straightened. “Never say that again.”

  “But he left. At least I stayed in the Highlands.”

  “If ye consider Dunrobin Castle part of Scotland. Many believe it belongs to England.”

  She threw her hands up in frustration. “I yield.”

  “Then grab yer cloak and let us go to Laird Alex.”

  Keely wrapped the length of brown wool around her shoulders. What did Alex want? They’d made their opinions of each other clear, and their intentions. She followed Jamie belowstairs, through the great hall where the few men and servants gathered stared at her in revilement but dinna utter a sound, then outside and through the bailey.

  “Where is he,” Keely asked.

  “He’s waiting at the loch.”

  “Is that where the laird conducts clan affairs now?”

  Jamie stopped. “If ye wish to soothe Alex, keep yer biting remarks to yerself. Remember, ye’re a constant reminder of the past, a past we want him to forget.”

  “Perhaps it would have been better if Angus killed me.”

  “Nay. Alex saved ye for a reason.”

  Aye, which only confused Keely, because she was sure Alex wanted her dead and gone.

  They arrived at the loch, finding Alex sitting close to the water’s edge, his back to them.

  “Thank ye for bringing her, Jamie.”

  “Aye. Do ye want me to stay close?”

  “Nay.”

  “All right.” Jamie gestured for her to move closer to Alex.

  She did, standing quietly beside him.

  “This place holds so many memories,” Alex observed.

  “Happy ones?” she asked.

  He turned and looked at her. “I learned to swim here. Caught my first fish here. Kissed my first lass here. Found my first love here.”

  His dark gaze lingered on her, and Keely knew exactly who he was talking about—her. “I remember,” she whispered.

  “What happened to us?” he asked.

  “Fate had different plans.”

  “Fate is nothing. Men control their own destinies.”

  “And women’s,” she added sourly.

  “Keely…” He started to get up.

  “Nay.” She backed away, too afraid to let him touch her, too scared to touch him.

  He stayed seated. “One word from ye would have prevented yer marriage to John.”

  “At what cost, Alex?”

  “Everything, if it meant we stayed together. Remember our promise?”

  “Which one? We made so many.”

  “Aye,” he agreed sadly. “They turned out to be empty promises.”

  “Again, I tell ye, we were young and foolish. Innocent.”

  He smiled wickedly. “There was nothing innocent about ye, lass.”

  “Is that what ye really think of me?”

  He rubbed his chin. “I try not to think of ye anymore, Keely.”

  “How many insults will ye sling at me?”

  “As many as it takes to rid my soul of ye,” he said.

  His comeback ripped a gaping hole in her chest. Those were the words of a man in love—a man who had been shattered and never found a way to put himself back together again.

  “Let me go, Alex. Tis a fair solution. Ye’ll be happier. Yer people will be grateful. And Lord knows, I may find my own bit of joy once I return home.”

  He held up his hand. “Stop.”

  “But…”

  He shook his head and moved his attention to the water. “My father isna buried in the kirk.”

  Why speak of his sire now? Out of respect for the man she knew and loved, she decided to indulge Alex. “Why not?”

  “The northern clans embrace their Viking roots. It is easy for a warrior to gaze across the sea and imagine his kinsmen sailing here on a longship in ancient times.”

  “Aye,” she said. “My father did the same. The tall tales he told at feasts about the Northmen, their brutality and fearlessness, filled by childhood dreams. How many cups of ale have been raised to honor one of England’s worst enemies?”

  “Enough to inspire my sire to demand a burial like one of those bloody Northmen.”

  She looked at Alex in shock. “What do ye mean?”

  “His body was washed and dressed and then placed on a ceremonial boat strewn with heather and bells. His shield and sword were placed within his cold grip, bowls of incense lit and set about him. Then the women cried the coronach, recalling his greatest battles as his captains pushed the boat to sea. Upon Mathe’s signal, a lone archer shot a fiery arrow at the vessel, setting it afire. Twas a warrior’s burial, Keely, but not a Christian one. And Father Michael canna tell me if he’s in Heaven or Hades.”

  “Dear God…”

  He continued with his story. “Mathe described the ceremony to me, but I couldna believe my sire would stray from tradition. He believed in God, but after reading his missives…” Alex showed her a stack of letters. “I’m not sure which god he worshipped.”

  Her heart bled for him, for no one wanted their father’s soul to be lost. “His service to yer clan, his benevolence, and unwavering belief in justice have sa
ved him. God has many names and forms, does he not? Ye’ve learned that on yer adventures.”

  Alex scratched his head. “And where did ye gain such wisdom, lass?”

  “Years spent in the Sutherland library reading every manuscript I could get my hands on.”

  He frowned at the mention of his enemy’s name, but his expression returned to normal quickly. “I doona know why I shared this story with ye. My father admired ye, Keely, even loved ye as a daughter, I think. He mentions ye many times in his letters.”

  “I miss yer father, Alex. Perhaps we wouldna be here if he was still laird.”

  “But he isna.”

  “Nay, he isna,” she agreed. Is this what he wanted to see her about? To reminisce about things that would never be? For a brief moment she wanted to touch his face, to offer comfort, because she could see the pain in his eyes, the regret etched on his handsome face. “Where did the missives come from?”

  “My secretary found them among my father’s things. When I left for Constantinople, the ship I sailed on stopped in Rome first. I spent months there and met Petro de’ Medici. I hired him as an interpreter. We’ve been together ever since.”

  “A valued friend?”

  “More like a brother.”

  “I am happy ye found such a companion.”

  Alex nodded. “And have ye found such an ally?”

  “Only one.”

  “A man?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Nay.”

  “Then who?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “There will be no retaliation if ye give an answer I doona like.”

  “Helen Sutherland.”

  Alex closed his eyes and drew in a stiff breath. “I know nothing about the woman.”

  “She isna like her brothers.”

  “And how well do ye know her brothers?”

  “That is an unfair question.”

  “Is it, lass?” He placed the missives on the boulder, then started pacing. “Do ye have something to hide?”

  “Nay. It’s just … why do ye want to know?”

  “Everything about yer past, especially the time ye spent with the Sutherlands, is of great interest to me, to my clan.”

  “I thought ye were leaving.”

  “Until this afternoon, I thought the same. But important details have come to light.”

  “What kind of details?”

  “The kind that make a man rethink his choices.”

  “I’m not a Sutherland spy.”

  “I believe ye.”

  He did? “Why?”

  “Ye’re not stupid, Keely. So, I must accept yer explanation as to why ye showed up here when ye did. A mere coincidence, or God’s hand played a part in it. Either way, I believe we were meant to see each other again.”

  “Thank ye for that bit of trust.”

  “Doona take advantage of it. If I find out ye’re lying, I’ll have yer heart.”

  The threat dinna affect her the way it should. Instead, she relied on that courage Jamie told her to find within herself. “The way I took yers?”

  He gave her a scathing look—the kind she imagined he showed his fiercest enemy before he drove his sword through their gut. “Doona tempt me, lass.”

  She dinna understand his desires, or why he acted the way he did. “I willna grovel at yer feet, Alex.”

  “Why did ye leave?” he finally asked.

  Should she tell him? Would he hate her that much more once she explained it? “I wasna thinking clearly when I ran away on my wedding night, Alex. John was a good man, a kind one. I-I…” The words were all jumbled up inside her head. “The thought of another man touching me…” She covered her mouth, even that partial confession would make Alex think she never stopped loving him. “It wasna what I wanted.”

  “Nay?” He stared at her long and hard. “What did ye want, Lady Keely?”

  “The right to choose my own husband.”

  “And who took that freedom away from ye?”

  Keely cast her gaze downward, kicking at the ground—anything to keep from looking directly at Alex. “Circumstance.”

  Alex snorted. “Circumstance?”

  “Aye,” she said. “The kind beyond a daughter’s control.”

  “My father and brother are gone, yer oath of secrecy died with them, Keely.”

  Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to give Alex the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “A promise once made must be kept, always.”

  Alex stepped closer, tipping her chin upward. She couldna keep from staring at him, from catching a fleeting glimpse of the compassionate man he used to be.

  “I am laird now,” he reminded her. “I release ye from that oath.”

  “I willna betray that sacred trust.”

  “What sacred trust? The one my sire and yer father unfairly made an inexperienced lass swear to through intimidation?”

  Her heart skipped several beats. “Ye know about it?”

  “My father carried a great deal of guilt after ye wed John. His missives are quite detailed. I doona think he ever intended for me to read them. Not the ones pertaining to John’s life, and yer marriage.”

  “If ye know the truth, why are ye forcing me to say it?”

  “Because I want to hear yer words.”

  Keely dinna like reliving the past, but everywhere she looked forced her to remember, to rethink her choices, to face her greatest sins. She’d lost five years with the people she loved, including her father and brothers. It made her heart hurt. She walked to the edge of the loch, scooped a handful of rocks from the dirt, and threw several. Ripples formed in the tranquil water. Even the winds were quiet today.

  “Marrying a second son dinna appeal to my father.”

  “Did it please ye?”

  She refused to answer.

  “Keely?”

  “My feelings dinna matter then, and surely doona matter now.”

  “I’ll have an answer.”

  “I did as I was told.”

  “Until ye faced the marriage bed.”

  She whirled around. “Did ye bring me here to humiliate me or find a solution for our problem? John is buried. Ye’re the new laird. And everything can be settled if ye just send me home where I belong. Let my da deal with my bad choices, Alex, not ye, not Clan MacKay.”

  Once again, Alex came to her, framing her face with his hands. His eyes were void of tenderness but not purpose. “Sending ye home would be a sign of my failure. It isna possible.”

  She dinna step out of reach, but stood there blinking, wondering why. Had the council demanded she be held prisoner? That Alex punish her? “Why?”

  “There’s consequences for everything we say and do, no?”

  “Aye,” she answered shakily.

  “Do ye remember our last encounter here at the loch?”

  She could never forget it. Never. That memory had burned a fresh path from her aching heart to her troubled mind over and over again. Especially since the day she crossed into MacKay territory and discovered the burned village. How she wished to go back and rethink her decision to flee Dunrobin Castle. “Aye.”

  Alex caressed her cheek with his thumb. “We pledged our hearts and souls to one another.”

  “We were young.”

  “We were in love,” he said.

  No. Lust. Passion. Desperate need. Hunger. Anything but love. Seeing him in the sunlight, with his bright, green eyes focused on her, that chiseled jawline, straight nose, his shoulder-length hair, and muscular form—the way his tunic hugged his body, the way his tartan clung to his hips, revealing powerful thighs … that’s what muddled her mind five years ago on a warm summer night. She could see it clearly, smell fresh heather, feel the soft grass underneath her, remember Alex’s warm touch on her face and breasts, the way he pulled her gown up her legs, then parted her thighs with his knee…

  “Let me show ye how much I care, lass, how much I love ye.” He’d whispered those words so tenderly. “I give ye my heart, my body,
and soul, Keely Oliphant. Do ye promise to be mine, to honor me with yer life, by being my wife?”

  And she’d uttered aye, her mind and body filled with everything Alex. It had been a mistake – at least she thought so now. “Love and desire are often mistaken for the same thing,” she said.

  He chuckled, and she thrust her hands on her hips.

  “How do ye know the difference, lass? What other man has brought ye to the edge of pleasure like me?”

  She shrugged him off, but Alex wouldna relent, he grabbed her arm again. “Well?”

  “Do ye think ye’re the only man to offer me his love and name?”

  She’d grown to hate his arrogance since she’d been back. But underneath it all, she still saw slivers of vulnerability. A man who had lost too much.

  “Have ye given yerself to another, woman?”

  “That is a private matter.”

  “I disagree,” he growled.

  “Ye wouldna believe me either way. If ye must know, have one of the midwives examine me.”

  “A suggestion I will seriously consider.” He released her.

  She’d like to see one of the MacKay midwives try and get her to lie down on a bed and lift her skirts. Did Alex really believe she’d shame herself by having sex out of wedlock? Honor meant everything to her, as it did Alex. Why were men judged by their character and women judged solely by their virginity?

  “I’d like to return to my room.”

  “And I want ye to stay.”

  She gave up and found a patch of grass to sit on and started to hum her favorite song.

  “What tune is that, lass?”

  She glared at him. How could his mood change so easily? Had he lost his mind? “I doona remember the words,” she lied, “just the melody.”

  In truth, the song spoke of two young lovers who were doomed to marry other people.

  …Her golden eyes are upon me no more.

  Her golden hair no longer feels like silk in my calloused hands.

  Her sweet lips no longer utter my name, but the name of the man her father sold her to.

  A husband who no deserves her.

  A man who I would kill.

  But I ken, I am in her heart—which is worth all the silver and gold in Scotland.

  Worth the blood of my own Highland heart.

  Her memory alone will carry me into the next life,

  Where I’ll stand before the Almighty and ask of him what I know he’ll ask of me.