The Love of Her Life (Highlander Heroes Book 6)

by Rebecca Ruger

  Her own anxiety making her distraught, she thought to distract herself once again by talking to her husband. “I’ve been meaning to take you to task for the way you left me. Honestly, it peeved me enough that I cannot believe I’d put it off until now. And no, sir, your current condition will not see you off the hook for your shoddy behavior.” She’d yet to change into her bedclothes that she only sat next to him, as she had for countless hours over the last seven days, legs crossed beneath her and his hand in hers. “You shouldn’t have confessed that to me only minutes before your departure. That was ill done and unfair to me. What if you had been...hadn’t returned? I would have had to live all my life with that agony, that you’d misunderstood that, that you didn’t know I loved you. Only you. But then to throw my words back at me, say I lied. I won’t forgive you for that. Not ever.” There was no truth to this last part, but she watched his eyes, the closed lids. They moved not at all. If these incendiary words had not roused him, she feared nothing would.

  Katie sighed and confessed again, “I lied to Henry. I’m not sure why, or even how it started. His father was no great man.” She felt she needed to clarify. “He wasn’t mean at all, rarely struck me, or likely I’d never want to speak of him at all. But I was there to serve a purpose, wash his clothes, make his supper, be available to his needs. It-it wasn’t awful, I never thought that. It was just—I mean, he provided well, saw that we mostly had the makings for bread, game was supplied fairly often, I had a roof over my head.” She paused, thoughtful for a while. “I don’t know why I started telling those fabulous stories to Henry. Wishful thinking, mayhap. It gave him something to dream on, to aspire to. Seemed to bring no harm. I just wanted him to have a history, have a family, as I never did.” With a sigh, she continued, “But he was...he was simply Henry’s father, more so that than my husband, and then so much less...so irrelevant when compared to you. He wasn’t beautiful or wise. He carried not the weight of great honor, struck no chord in me of desire or want or need. He wasn’t...you. I love you.” She cringed though, for how inadequate those little words were, for how pitiful they sounded compared to what it felt like. “That’s...that’s not right. The words are too simple, they diminish it. I cannot whittle it down to a simple I love you. It’s so much more. I don’t even know yet what all of it is. I only know that I want to be where ever you are, for as long as you’ll have me. And I don’t care if you don’t love me in return. Just let me love you, I’ll be happy.”

  “Think he can hear ye, lass?”

  Katie lifted her head and swiped at her tears.

  Laird MacBriar stood in the doorway, his beloved and familiar hazel gaze watery as well.

  Matter-of-factly, she told him, “I believe he can. Some parts are broken, but he’s still here. He’s right here. I have to believe he can hear me.”

  The laird nodded and stepped slowly into the room.

  Katie composed herself, what little she could, and rose from the bed.

  “Ye take a break now, go say goodnight to the lad. I want to talk to my son.”

  She nodded. She did not at all want to leave him, but he had more right to Alec than she did.

  “AYE, AND WE ALL KEN she’d be perfect for you, and that’s the truth,” Alexander MacBriar said, moving the chair a wee bit closer to the bed before sitting down. His mouth moved, emotions nearly overwhelming him, for several seconds until he was able to speak again. “Aye, and she’s right, the words dinna do it justice. But Alec, you’ve given me so much pride and brought so much joy—enough for all the bairns we lost and more, so help me God. Your poor mam cried for a week before your third birthday. That was the longest any child had lived—that was Benjamin, had him for nearly three years. Nice boy, sparkling eyes. Christ! How they shone. She was so afeared that was it, that your end was nigh. But then we get another week, and another month, and another year, and we only loved you. Now, it’s true, ye weren’t always easy and ye canna go blaming that entirely on us, but I ken...you just wanted to be your own man and we...well, we just wanted you here. With us. Always. So aye, it was hard to let you live free, I ken. Lach and Iain coming in your twelfth year, that was good. Got ye trained, made ye some friends—and thank God for that, aye?—but still kept you close to us.” He talked more, told his son how watching him ride away from Swordmair to fight at Falkirk was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. “And I ken you can no’ forgive me for what I’d done at Hawick House. I canna explain it, cannot even recall making the decision. It was wrong and aye, that’s my cross to bear now, my mercy to beg from God when I meet Him.” He lowered his chin to his chest and wept. “But lad, dinna hate me because I loved you, because I couldn’t...let it go without answering...what they’d done to you.” He cried more, said nothing else for a long while.

  When he next spoke, his voice was clear once again. “That’s on me, those Englishmen dead. That was at my hand, no’ yours. I killed them, killed those innocent men same as they’d done to ours, but mostly, for what they’d done to you.” He sniffled, wiped angrily at his nose. “And I never really did recover my boy, which seemed to double the crime, then. But there ye have it, and that’s why I dinna fight no more. Couldn’t trust myself. I’d never ken blind fury like that, never wanted to meet it again. Dinna fight, blamed it on my age, my knees, whatever else anyone might believe. Shame is what it was.”

  He sat quietly then, content to have these minutes with his son, however long the good Lord allowed him. And then Alexander MacBriar nearly jumped out of his chair when Alec’s lips moved. Didn’t just move, but put words out.

  “Say it again, lad,” Alexander demanded, clumsily falling to his knees at the side of the bed. “Say it again. I dinna hear ye.”

  “I dinna hate you. No’ ever.” His voice was low and scratchy, but the words were clear.

  The laird could form no thoughts, could do naught but touch his son, his huge hand gentle against Alec’s face, while his cheeks were streaked with tears. Alec opened his eyes, blinked several times, struggling to focus, it seemed. His lids were heavy, shrouding half his eyes.

  “I ken why you did it.” Alec needed time to draw breath between sentences, sometimes between words. “I dinna like it...that it was done because of... me. But I never...dinna love you, da’.”

  Alexander nodded, the tightness in his chest, his constant companion for so many years, eased.

  “I need Katie,” Alec murmured, closing his eyes again. “Where is Katie?”

  Alexander MacBriar, bless his soul, turned his head, still very close to his just wakened and very weak son, and bellowed for all the keep to hear, “Katie!”

  SHE CAME RUNNING, BURSTING into their chambers, her hand held at the doorjamb, her gaze stark with fear.

  But she came not alone, followed by Elle and then his mother and soon after, Malcolm. He thought he spied Lach’s big frame and Iain, too, standing behind them all. But his gaze was only for her.

  She hadn’t moved, not since she’d appeared in the doorway, not since she found him awake. None could enter then, until she did, as she blocked the entrance.

  His mother wouldn’t or couldn’t wait for Katie to recover, but pushed at the arm stretched across the doorway and burst inside. His father remained where he was that his mam came to the other side of the bed, falling onto him, taking his cheeks in her hands, kissing him repeatedly.

  His poor, dear mam.

  They all fussed over him.

  “Bluidy lucky son of a bitch,” Elle murmured.

  “Aye, and I dinna have to kill you now,” Lach said.

  “He did threaten as much,” Iain confirmed, “if you were no’ going to wake.”

  He allowed it, gave them several minutes to enjoy what his mother had just called his resurrection, was thankful for them, nodding and trying to smile, his gaze straying every other second to Katie. She hung back yet, those moody blue eyes he loved so well bright with tears and joy, but then filled with caution as well. He barely spoke, realized with only those few word
s to his father that it was a chore, that it taxed what little strength he had. He needed to save it for Katie. He didn’t need to ask what happened, as his mother proceeded to recount all seven days in glorious and unnecessary detail.

  When he could bear it no more, he found Lachlan’s eye, inclined his head just enough that his friend came near. Christ, Alec could barely lift his hand, he was so weak. He could do no more than tip his head back on the pillows. Lach understood and bent low.

  Alec whispered, his voice rusty yet, “I need to talk to Katie.”

  Lach said only, “Aye,” patting Alec’s shoulder and then straightened to make that happen.

  “C’mon, Maddie. Your lad’s hungry. Let’s get down to the kitchens and fix him a feast.”

  “Oh, aye,” said Alec’s mother, pushing off from the mattress, still holding Alec’s hand though. “We had the pork tonight, love. Would that suit? Or I can make you the beef with the mushrooms if—”

  Lachlan herded her away. “He’ll eat shoe leather, Maddie, if that’s what you’ve got. He hasn’t eaten in a week.”

  Elle and Malcolm caught on, that Lachlan was trying to clear the room. Iain nudged the laird’s elbow and inclined his head toward the door when the MacBriar faced him. “Aye, aye, right.” Iain helped the laird to his feet.

  And then it was only Katie and him.

  She stood near to the door still, one hand clenching and wrinkling the fabric of her bodice. She was tired and pale, and even thinner mayhap. Her hair was untidy, falling from a sloppy knot at her nape. He thought her lips might be trembling.

  “Sit with me,” he said.

  Her lips parted. She moved without haste and claimed the spot his mother had vacated, surprising him by pulling her legs up underneath her on the mattress. She didn’t, or wouldn’t, lift her gaze to him. But she took his hand, held it lightly within hers. One tear slid away from the corner of her eye, marked a trail down her cheek.

  He drew a deep breath to say it properly, without hesitation.

  “I am so in love with you.”

  She didn’t lift her eyes from his hand, indeed, she dropped her chin onto her chest and cried more.

  “Dinna cry, Katie,” he begged, closing his eyes, his strength sapped already. But he squeezed the fingers that held his. “Unless you cry because I’m an arse....Which I am.... Still, I love you.”

  Now, she lifted her magnificent blue eyes to him.

  “And you’re right,” he continued, “I love you doesn’t...say it all.”

  “You heard?”

  “Aye, some. Maybe more. I dinna ken...right now.”

  She nodded.

  “I feel as if...I’ve been trampled by...all of Swordmair’s horses.”

  “Aye. Your breathing will improve, I’m sure, with rest and time.”

  “But seven days?”

  She rather winced. “In all probability, you’d have woken sooner. I gave you something to keep you sleeping and still.”

  He wouldn’t question it, somehow knew he lived because of her.

  “Lie down with me. I need to feel you.” He wouldn’t force her to admit just now what he had once so carelessly, so cruelly, flung back in her face.

  “I don’t want to...ruin anything, hurt you.”

  “Katie, love, will you please come closer? I ken a good healer. It’ll be fine.”

  She first left the bed, walking around to the other side. She climbed in again and settled herself gently against his left side.

  Alec moved the hand that lie between them, searching for hers. When their fingers folded around each other, he closed his eyes again, knowing a breathtaking sense of peace.

  But it wasn’t finished.

  “I need to ken if I’ve killed it, Katie?”

  “Killed...what? Alec, what are you—”

  “I love you,” he said raggedly. “But you haven’t...do you no’ feel it still?”

  It was a long time before she answered.

  “I feel it. I just didn’t know if you only...said that because you felt bad for how you left.”

  “What have I done? Have I killed it? Ruined it?” He could do nothing about the raw heartbreak in his voice. “Do you no’ trust your heart with me now?” Jesu, could he blame her?

  “I...”

  Ah, but he’d made a muddle of it. He needed to go about it differently. He’d been a fool to doubt her, when it had been written so plainly upon her face, the anguish she’d shown at his departure. She should doubt him not at all. It should be known, and live in her, and just always be there for her. He did not deserve her if he couldn’t convince her.

  Alec closed his eyes and spoke slowly and with great conviction. “I love the sound of your voice, especially when you talk non-stop, hoping I might wake. I love the way your eyes wrinkle at the corners when your laugh comes full. I like that my presence calms you when you’re afraid. Aye, and ye ken, I like the way you mother Henry; I enjoy the relationship you and he have. I like that you and Elle are friends—no’ sure how you did it, but it impresses me. I like how you minister, efficient and so damn clever. I like your hands, they’re soft and fine but I ken, verra strong. And I’ll no’ lie, I like that I disturb you, because you ken, you do the same to me.”

  “Oh.” More than likely, she’d not have suspected such detailed honesty from him, may have expected not much more than some mention that she was bonny, and he liked her kiss.

  “Katie, I swear I can hear your heart beating now.”

  And his brave and fierce Katie said the most remarkable thing. She said, “I was trying to figure out exactly when I might have fallen in love with you.”

  Alec blinked, but otherwise remained completely still, his heart bursting with relief.

  She moved her thumb along his palm, back and forth. “Of course, I’m sure it wasn’t when you first crashed through the door at Dalserf.” She swallowed. “And I honestly don’t even think it was behind that tree when you decided you might want to kiss me. Maybe it was when I saw you holding the Lister babe so beautifully. I cannot be sure.” She shook her head. “No, I do believe it was when I came upon you at my cottage, after my bath, before you made love to me.”

  “Why? Why then?”

  Against his shoulder, she lifted her gaze to him, her eyes shiny, so beloved.

  “Because you were so unsure. Which I have to believe is something you have never in your life wrestled with. But then you stepped forward and knocked on the door anyway.”

  When he said nothing, only waited for more to come—surely his nerves of that night had not made her fall in love with him—she explained her reasoning.

  “Because it was important to you, so you faced it, pushed through the unease.”

  “I wanted—needed—to apologize to you.”

  She tilted her head at him.

  “Fine,” he admitted. “It was as I’d said then—it was no’ finished.”

  “No, it was not. I love you, Alec. More than reason, mayhap. More than anything.”

  Thank God. “Just the beginning.”

  Epilogue

  Summer, 1308

  “I’M SO EXCITED, ALEC.”

  “Aye, I ken you are. I like when your eyes shine like that.”

  “Aren’t you excited?”

  “Aye, and truth be told, probably more on this occasion than any other time I was bound to see Lach and Iain.”

  She sidled a bit closer, so very pleased to have her husband so at peace.

  “I apologize for falling asleep so early last night.” She put her hand on his thigh. “I’d wanted you to make love to me, but then I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  Alec shifted just slightly to place a kiss on her forehead, leaned into him. “I ken you were tired. You had a busy day with Eleanor and her bairn.”

  “But that’s all settled, her struggles with the feeding. I wouldn’t have been able to leave her today if it weren’t.”

  “Aye, but Mam says you will be verra tired for the firs
t few months then it will taper off. Anyway, I dinna have the heart to wake you. But I did sit a while and stare.”

  Smiling, wrapping her hand around his upper arm, she said, “I’m expecting a babe, Alec, and do not need to be treated as if I’m fragile. You know I adore your mother, but please don’t let her dictate our lovemaking schedule.”

  Alec chuckled, the sound surely comparable to the heavens rejoicing. “I can pull off the trail right here, love. Show you what you missed last night.”

  She pressed her blush into the sleeve of his tunic. “Your parents and Henry are in the wagon directly behind us.”

  “You think my parents never took a little—”

  Laughing, she straightened and covered her ears. “Please stop speaking.”

  “You dinna want those images in your head?”

  “Do you?”

  “Aye, but I canna lie to you. I’ve been thinking all week about taking you down to the beach at Hawkmore, making love to you under the stars.”

  “Yes, please,” she said unabashedly. With a contented sigh, she asked, “Can we name our daughter Magdalena?”

  “Aye,” he answered promptly and then ruined it by qualifying, “when we have one. But Henry and I have decided this child is a boy—we’ll accept no substitutes—and he’s to be named Robert.”

  “You’ll be eating crow when my daughter is born,” Katie teased, “and I’ve just now decided I will name her whatever I please.”

  “Our daughter.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I still cannot believe it. I ken I believe it, I understand that’s what happens with all that lovemaking. But Katie, I’m going to be a father. Someone’s da’.”

  This warmed her heart, his overdone joy. She recalled the expression on his face when she’d given him the news. She’d never, not once, been witness to anything that remotely resembled tears from this man. He hadn’t rushed into her arms, hadn’t cried out with joy, hadn’t even smiled, she recalled. He’d sat down and lowered his head. Katie had watched, and waited, until he’d lifted his face to her, his eyes watering, speechless, just absolutely overcome with the splendor of it.