Highland Destiny

by Hunsaker, Laura

  He knew now that he could never let Mackenzie go to the 217

  Campbell, and he didn't think for one second that the wizards could guarantee her safe return. He knew the Campbell would kill her, if not for the curse, then merely to provoke Connor.

  Facing the options of what to do and knowing that he couldn't let Mackenzie leave him, he was struck by the knowledge that the reason he couldn't bear to let her leave him was because he was in love with her. Once that realization hit, it seemed so obvious. How had he not seen this sooner? His chest swelled with the new emotion. He loved her deeply and irrevocably. His life would be forever changed and if she weren't in his life, well, it would be meaningless.

  So, he'd devised a plan that both kept her safe, here, with him, and would insult the Campbell a bit more. The bishop had stopped by the Isle of Donan for the night on his way to marry a couple on the neighboring MacLeod lands. Fate had dropped this in his lap and he would not ignore it.

  When he had chanced upon his brother and Mackenzie in the kitchen, they'd looked so natural there talking to each other as if they were old friends, despite the slightly guilty look on Mackenzie's face. He smiled to himself at the remembered image. It felt homey and natural. He hadn't been able to stop himself and he'd announced his intentions right there. He knew Mackenzie would be surprised, but when her deep emerald green gaze had met his, he'd held her eyes in his, and held his breath as well. When she had agreed to the marriage, he'd been so relieved that he hadn't noticed the disappointment flash in her green eyes. He had, however, noticed her particularly feminine comment about not having anything to wear.

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  Chapter Twenty

  Married? She and Connor were getting married?

  Tomorrow? She almost laughed out loud. This whole experience felt like one big dream. Maybe that's why she'd been able to take this whole "journey-to-the-past-to-save-hot-guy" thing in her stride. Maybe it really was just a big, elaborate dream. Yeah, that could be it; she was still standing in the Art Gallery of a five star hotel/castle in 2010 Scotland staring at an oil painting of one of the previous lairds. There was nothing wrong with her other than an imagination run amok. Mackenzie sighed, and shook her head slightly, clearing away the logical explanations that made no sense.

  Interesting how the only explanation that made any kind of sense at all was the far-fetched one full of magic, rather than the rational one involving a head injury and a vivid dream. If she were being truthful, there was no way she could have imagined Connor...his hands, his kisses, his embraces...it was more creative than her imagination could ever create. But how else could she explain magic and portals and time travel?

  She smiled to herself and thought that marrying Connor was just one more experience to chalk up to the dream. Besides, if she was dreaming, then couldn't she indulge and stay with Connor? Marry Connor? But wow, what a dream! She really couldn't have picked a better match for herself if she had imagined him. Besides whom would it harm for her to stay here with Connor?

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  Her momentary joy was jarred when she grasped that the answer to that was so obvious: herself. She was only hurting herself. Which begged the question: What would happen once the dream ended and reality came crashing down around her?

  Would she be able to save her heart from the shatter? But Mackenzie shook it off and squared her shoulders instead focusing on the present. In the immediate future, she'd just try to survive the Campbell's next attack, and worry about the survival of her heart later. But for now, as she was happy and harming no one, she decided to enjoy the dream for the next couple weeks, and just take it from there. Who knew?

  Maybe she wouldn't even be able to get home anyways. That thought actually perked her up for the first time instead of bringing on overwhelming sadness. Interesting....

  By this point in her musings, Mackenzie and Connor had wandered in silence through the stone courtyard, each lost in their own thoughts. They had stopped by the sea wall and Connor broke the silence.

  "You're quiet. You are never quiet; should I be worried?" It sounded like he was teasing her, but his eyes were serious.

  Mackenzie wondered what he'd been thinking about.

  She smiled sadly and said, "No, I've just been thinking about this whole big mess I've made of things."

  Connor pulled her down with him as he sat on one of the stone benches and repeated, "'Mess of things?' What does this mean?" His eyebrows were in a deep v over his nose, and Mackenzie almost laughed aloud at his confused expression.

  "It means that I have muddled the plan so much that it is unrecognizable." Mackenzie looked across the courtyard at 221

  the main keep. "I mean, here I am, Mackenzie Stewart, from 2010 America. I've never been anything special, completely ordinary, and I am about to marry a Scottish laird in 1792

  Scotland. But it gets better! I was literally dragged through time to marry a different man so that I could put an end to all of the bloodshed, but now I can't stop him since I'm here and not there, so I don't even know what he's planning. But I assume it still has my death involved." Mackenzie stood, feeling the familiar frustration grow as she thought of how she'd messed up the plan and began pacing. She gestured with her hands a lot when she was frustrated, and this was no different, "And now you have to marry me to protect me, which I am so sorry about, Connor, you shouldn't be forced to marry me." Mackenzie sat back down on the bench with a huff. "I'm sorry Connor, I don't mean to vent, but I am such a burden and for that I'm sorry as well." She fidgeted with her skirts, not wanting to meet his eyes, afraid she'd see pity there.

  But Connor knelt down in front of her and pulled her tense hands apart and into his own. When she still wouldn't look at him, he released her hands and she let them fall limply in her lap. She felt both of his hands frame her face, and he waited for so long that she finally met his gaze.

  "Listen to me, Mackenzie Stewart. Ye are no burden and I'll die before I let that Campbell swine lay his hands on ye.

  Do ye ken? I'll not let him hurt ye. There's no need to be afraid."

  "Connor that's sweet, but I..." Connor put his hand over her lips to stop her words.

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  "Sweeting, I'm going to protect ye whether ye like it or not. And the best way to do that is to marry ye."

  "But you shouldn't have to! That's my point!" Again, his hand gently covered her lips.

  "I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to, Mackenzie."

  "But why would you want to?" Mackenzie hadn't meant it to burst out of her, but there it was. So she waited. And held her breath.

  Connor shifted uncomfortably and said "I've already told ye why—-to keep ye safe. If ye are my wife then he cannot legally take ye back."

  "Oh." Mackenzie knew she sounded like a disappointed child, but she couldn't help it. Her lower lip pouted out and her eyes dropped. Her crestfallen look tugged at Connor's heartstrings. How he ached to take that look from her face...but what could he do?

  Something in Mackenzie's face must have given her mood away, because Connor suddenly said, "I've an idea."

  "Oh?"

  "Tomorrow after the ceremony, I'll show ye some of my lands." Connor smiled as the shock crossed her face, and finished, "And I have a surprise for ye."

  "A surprise? What is it? Is it a good surprise?" She could barely contain her excitement and her curiosity.

  "Aye, sweeting, it's a good surprise. And if I tell ye what it is, it won't be much of a surprise, now will it?" He was toying with her.

  "Please?"

  "Well, if ye really can't wait..."

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  "If I really can't wait...What? Connor, tell me."

  "All right, all right." He laughed, holding his hands out so she would stop. "Let us go." He rose and held a hand out for her to help her up.

  Mackenzie got to her feet and taking his hand, impatiently tugged, "So, where to?"

  Connor laugh
ed. It was a loud boisterous laugh that caught her off guard. She hadn't heard him laugh so freely before, and it was nice. She practically skipped with him as he walked across the courtyard. At the edge of the stones, he covered her eyes with his hands and walked her carefully forward until she felt soft grass beneath her feet. The smell of hay and horses pricked at her nose, and she was breathing hard—-but whether that was the excitement or Connor's hands on her face, she couldn't be sure.

  He stopped her and commanded, "Keep your eyes closed."

  She smiled and replied, "Yes sir."

  He grasped her shoulders and pivoted her to face the direction he wanted, saying, "Open your eyes, Mackenzie."

  And he stepped back to watch her reaction.

  Eagerly opening her eyes, Mackenzie stared at a white horse. She glanced from Connor to the mare and back again.

  "Are we going for a ride? Awesome! I can't wait to get out and feel the wind on my face! Where's your horse?"

  "I don't think you understand, Mackenzie," Connor shook his head slightly and grinned at the confusion in her eyes. He spoke very softly, "She's yours."

  "She's mine?" Mackenzie's eyes held confusion for just a second more when comprehension hit. "Wait, she's mine? As 224

  in I get to keep her?" Her eyes goggled at Connor, her mouth fell open. Then she stretched to her tiptoes and threw her arms around his neck, "Do you mean it? Oh Connor, you're the best!"

  "The best what?" His eyebrows were knit in confusion but he was smiling at her enthusiasm.

  She laughed a blithely carefree laugh, "Silly Connor. It means that you're so, so, so wonderful. Thank you, so much.

  I love her. What's her name? Can we go for a ride? Where's the tack and gear?"

  Connor cut her off by wrapping his arms around her and murmuring in her ear, "You talk too much. You may name her what ye wish, yes we may ride, and I'll have a groom fetch ye a saddle...a men's saddle since I assume ye'll wish to ride astride?"

  "I think I'll name her Snow White, since she's all white."

  And since I'm in a fairy tale of my own.

  "That's not very creative," he scoffed.

  "Well, what's your horse's name?"

  He shifted slightly, dropping his arms from around her, and mumbled, "He is Bonnie Prince Charlie." Connor looked uncomfortable.

  She laughed, "Nuh uh. I don't believe it. I figured it would be something manly like Angus or Conan or something."

  He smiled wryly or he grimaced, "Truly. My sister named him when we were younger."

  She was momentarily sidetracked. Tilting her head to one side, she asked, "You have a sister?"

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  "Aye. Her name is Muireall. She is married to a MacDonald, and lives on the Isle of Skye."

  A stable hand brought in a saddle and bridle.

  "Oh, the island across the lake? I mean the loch," she wryly corrected herself.

  "Aye." Connor looked pleasantly surprised that she remembered. "Careful, you're beginning to sound Scottish."

  Mackenzie just snickered and murmured, "You should have heard my granny."

  "What was that?"

  "Nothing. My granny had the thickest brogue I've ever heard." Mackenzie sighed for a moment before telling him, "I really wish I'd paid more attention to her stories and lessons.

  She tried to teach me about her home, our ancestors, but I never really had time." Mackenzie sighed, "And now she's gone, and it's too late."

  Connor enfolded her in his arms, and rested his chin on the top of her head. "It's all right. You are doing magnificently." She glanced up and smiled at him. How Connor's body responded to such a simple embrace was beyond him. His woman had the power to bring him to his knees with nothing more than a look. He forced himself to step back and clear his head, otherwise he might embarrass them both. "Now let's go ride before I throw you down in the hay and ravish you senseless."

  "Aye, my Laird," she demurely lowered her lashes and bobbed a graceful curtsey.

  Connor had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing. But she agilely mounted her mare before he could move the 226

  mounting block for her and the smile broke through. Until he saw the tantalizing expanse of leg showing as her skirts rode up to her thighs.

  "What? What's wrong?" Mackenzie was completely confused by the look on his face.

  "If you are to ride astride, then we must cover you up." He was trying to pull her skirts down over her legs.

  She laughed, "Oh Connor. Don't be such a prude. Come on, I'll race you!" And she urged her mount out of the stables and into the yard. Connor watched her go, her hips swaying with the motion of the horse. What a maddening, infuriating, wonderful woman she was. He leaped onto his horse, and rode after her.

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  Chapter Twenty One

  They were out the rest of the day, and after their ride, Mackenzie walked to dinner with a smile playing about her full lips. All she could think about was what a softie her rough Highlander was turning out to be. He had such a good heart.

  Not only was he marrying her to protect her from a very powerful, very ruthless, evil man, but he had just given her the most wonderful gift. Her own horse! What girl didn't want a horse? He was admitting that he trusted her enough to give her her freedom. How could she thank him for everything? It really meant a lot to Mackenzie and she wouldn't forget it. Of course, she was in so deep now that she wouldn't ever forget any of this, nor did she want to. She was completely in love with him and for the first time she admitted to herself how far gone she really was. It was liberating. And she wanted to tell him, but....

  Connor had said a couple times that he cared for her; it was a start, right? She didn't want to tell him first unless she was sure of his feelings. Besides, what if he didn't want the complication of her being in love with him? She gnawed on her bottom lip as she worried about that. No, she couldn't tell him...not yet, anyway. But maybe she could make him fall in love with her right back? They were getting married after all.

  But still, coming back to reality, how to show Connor what his gift (and the meaning behind the gift—her freedom) had meant to her?

  "Connor, I want to thank you for the wonderful gift."

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  "You just did," he said with a smile.

  "No, I mean really thank you. Is there anything I can do for you? Or that you want?" Me perhaps?

  Connor stopped walking and turned his pensive blue gaze on her, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm...You want to do something for me...."

  "Yes, please. I feel awful that you've given me such a thoughtful present, and I have nothing for you." I'd give you my heart, if you'd take it.

  "All right, sweeting, I know what I'd like you to give me."

  He smiled.

  Mackenzie stepped forward in earnest, her hands clasped in front of her. "Anything."

  "I'd like you to give me a kiss."

  She furrowed her brow. "A kiss? Really? That's it?"

  "Nothing more, just a kiss."

  Mackenzie stepped closer, until they were close enough to touch, and rose onto her tiptoes, placing her hands on his chest. She brushed her lips against his. Connor stood still, not making a move to touch her, or kiss her back. So she pressed her lips to his once more, and her arms crept up around his neck to twine in his hair and she molded her body to his until there was no space between them. Mackenzie was going to tell him with her lips what she couldn't yet tell him with words. Her kiss was gentle, but building, as her tongue teased his lips open. She swept her tongue across his and tugged his bottom lip with her teeth. Connor groaned and his arms slipped around Mackenzie as he took over the kiss. His lips were much more persistent than hers. Where hers gave, 229

  his took, where hers were tentative, his were insistent. And they stood there, kissing in the courtyard as the sun set.

  Connor broke the kiss first, looking down into her dazed face. "I've another boon to ask of ye."

&nbs
p; "I thought you just wanted a kiss?" Mackenzie teased.

  "Alright, what else?"

  "Mackenzie, I'd like to ask if you will marry me tomorrow morn."

  "Marry you?" Mackenzie's confused eyes stared into his, looking for some hidden meaning. "But Connor, we are getting married tomorrow." She was trying to read his eyes, but those dark blue pools were fathomless, filled with some unnamed emotion.

  "Aye sweeting, but I'm asking ye. And ye may answer me how ye wish." His voice was deeper, his accent more pronounced, like when he was frustrated. What did that mean?

  Mackenzie slowly said, "You're telling me that I can say no, and you'll leave it at that? That I don't have to marry you?"

  Could this be right? Was he giving her the option to back out? Maybe she'd been wrong before about his feelings leaning toward the romantic. Her heart plummeted. If he was giving her the chance to opt-out, maybe he really didn't want to marry her...of course how could she blame him? She was completely wrong for him, and she didn't even really live here, for crying out loud! She was so stupid for deluding herself into believing he might actually want to do this for emotional reasons.

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  Or maybe there was another reason. Could he be giving her the chance at her freedom, like with the horse? Her eyebrows drew down over her nose as she took this all in. If that were the case, then Mackenzie was staggered, and her heart swelled in her chest, thumping unevenly. He seemed to know what she needed. He understood her much more than she had previously given him credit for. This rough battle-hardened chauvinist from the eighteenth century seemed to know her very soul. This had to be why she was here, why she'd been in Scotland the very instant that Morvern and Gregor had come for her, why she'd stayed in Connor's castle. Fate! That was the word. She'd never believed in fate before, but now, staring up at Connor in the setting sun, the sea on one side, his castle on the other, there seemed to be no other explanation. It was meant to be.

  She needed to know. Then again maybe now was her chance.