Highland Destiny

by Hunsaker, Laura

  His arrogance or pride or whatever had led to his plotting this marriage brought her initial joy at her new gown to a halt. She felt her hopes plummet as she thought of the reason behind the gown; the curse. She'd meant to keep her own counsel as far as her feelings over the whole blasted curse, and her newly-realized-but-still-in-denial love for Connor, but she'd never been good at hiding her feelings.

  Maybe it was a blessing that she'd never had to deal with John Campbell, since she was an awful liar and had never really tested her acting skills outside of the high school play senior year.

  "Connor?" Mackenzie laid the gown gently on the trunk at the foot of his bed, and waited for his full attention. It was unnecessary; he was already looking at her.

  "Aye, Mackenzie?"

  "Do you believe in the curse?" She'd meant it to sound casual, but her voice didn't cooperate; it was too intense. It didn't help that she was holding her breath while waiting for him to answer.

  She didn't have to wait long; he answered her almost immediately. "Nay, lass, I doona."

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  "Oh." It came out on a rush of the air she'd been holding.

  "Good." Her fears were nowhere near allayed. She pressed on, "But don't you think that it's a little convenient that I'm a Stewart and if we get married tomorrow that it ends an ages-old curse? Besides, how can you dismiss it so easily after all that has happened?"

  Connor's eyes gentled, "Nay, lass. 'Tis fate. Fate and magic. Magic brought you here to me, and 'tis fate that you are a Stewart and I a MacRae. I saw the chance and I seized it."

  "And me," Mackenzie murmured a little staggered by his romantic admission.

  Connor's face split into a wide grin. "Aye, and you. I took a chance on abducting a woman I'd ne'er laid eyes on, but I had to ensure the Campbell could not possess you." His voice and eyes hardened, "And he'll no' ha'e you, he'll not touch you. I swear it, Mackenzie, he'll no' hurt you."

  She couldn't doubt the fervor and sincerity of his words, but she did doubt the meaning behind them. What had he been planning this whole time? Had marriage been the ultimate goal from the beginning? So, no matter whom he had found in that carriage, would he have married her?

  Mackenzie had to know. "So let me get this straight. You knew you were going to marry whoever was in that carriage?

  No matter who she was or what she looked like?"

  "Aye, Mackenzie, for the good o' the clan. It was fate alone that you were in that carriage rather than the pale Englishwoman we were led to believe the Campbell would marry."

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  Connor almost sneered the word Englishwoman. Funny how being English was worse than being unattractive.

  Mackenzie had forgotten that his information (as well as the Campbell's) was only that she was from England and a Stewart. Connor had had no idea that when he'd pulled her from the carriage that she would be an American tourist from the year 2008 dressed in shorts and a tank top. Mackenzie inwardly smiled as she imagined Connor yanking a young English maid from the carriage. She felt a quick stab of sympathy as she realized that the unknown girl would have probably fainted dead away at the prospect of being kidnapped by a Highland "barbarian."

  His arms were around her, and Connor pulled her tight up against his chest. Mackenzie knew what he wanted, and what her traitorous body wanted as well, but she wasn't sure if she could do this. She wanted to think all of this through; the curse, Connor's plans, and how she felt. His lips were at her neck, tracing their way to the hollow beneath her ear.

  Mackenzie had trouble thinking. The only thing she was sure of was how she felt in Connor's arms, and she was fairly certain he felt the same inescapable pull of desire. She'd once told herself that it would be enough that he wanted her, and right now she desperately wanted to believe that.

  Truthfully, though, she did want to go through with the wedding. She wanted to marry Connor, to bear his children, and grow old with him, but there was no way that was possible since she would be going back to her time in a couple of weeks. There was no happily ever after for them, but 246

  perhaps she could be greedy and take the here and now for as long as possible, and screw the Cinderella ending.

  So after all that, Mackenzie found herself back where she started; unsure of Connor's feelings for her but knowing she loved him. And now she was rambling on and on in her own head when she should be grasping tenaciously at whatever time she had left with Connor.

  He must have sensed it as well, because he said against her neck, "Turn off your mind, Mackenzie. Doona think, just feel...."

  His lips brushed her cheek, her temple, her closed eyelids...He bypassed her lips, barely touching the corner of her mouth with his warm breath, continuing instead down her neck and collarbone until he found her nipple through the material of her dress. Mackenzie gave up thinking entirely and surrendered to the magic of Connor's lips.

  Connor was pleased to see Mackenzie's open joy at the gown. He'd wanted it made in the same color green of her eyes, but his sister had warned him that to be married in green was unlucky, so he'd chosen the color of midnight with the silver accents of the full moon. Just as the night he had first seen her. When she had raced to the bed and picked it up to hold it against her body, Connor had wanted very badly to see her in it. He felt ridiculous.

  This was his way of showing her how he felt about her. If he knew her mind better, he would tell her, but she must hear how he spoke to her? And she must see the way he looked at her? He knew his men saw it; they teased him mercilessly on the practice field. But when she'd turned her 247

  wide, guileless eyes on him, he saw some hint of suspicion in their green depths.

  The only thing he could think of was putting his hands on her body. He would show her with his lips what he couldn't tell her with them.

  She deserved more, much more, but she'd be leaving in a few weeks and he didn't want her to go. How could he convince her to stay? How could he even think of asking that of her? Once more, Mackenzie pulled back from him, but he kissed her words away; this was not the time for talking.

  Connor kissed his way down her delicate neck and found her nipple through the fabric of her gown. He stripped her of the gown, wet from his mouth, and pressed her up against the cold stone of the wall. Her hands wandered impatiently down his back stopping at the small of his back as she tugged at his shirt. Connor tore it off and felt a tingle from skin on skin contact that he'd never before felt. Pressing his arousal into her soft belly he felt her hands clutching his hips. Hoisting one of her long legs up around his hip, he slid into her in one smooth motion, and stifled her gasp with his lips.

  They never made it to the bed.

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  248

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Mackenzie awoke on the day of her wedding to an empty bed. The sheets were cold on his side, but the smoldering remains of the fire warmed the room enough for her to slide out of bed. It felt decadent to sleep naked and feel her skin slip against the sheets. Mackenzie had never been one to sleep naked; usually it was just boy-shorts and a tank top.

  Besides, her roommate usually had a guy over and Mackenzie was tired of being caught in her underwear in her own home.

  Sleeping nude was definitely a luxury she enjoyed, especially when she was snuggled up to Connor's naked body.

  Mackenzie padded barefoot over to the window and looked out over the loch, and the most beautiful October day she'd ever seen. Being a desert rat from Las Vegas, she rarely saw such beautiful scenery, so she drank it in. The fog had cleared—-hmm...it must be later than she'd realized.

  Checking her watch she gasped; it was nine o'clock! The wedding would start in an hour! Just as she started to panic, a knock sounded at the door.

  Bronwyn bustled in without waiting for an answer.

  "Let's get you ready, dearie. I've a bath ready in your chambers and your gown has been aired out and is ready as well."

  Bronwyn scrubbed Mackenzie's body until it glowed an
d washed her hair with the scented lavender water that Mackenzie loved. When she stepped out of the tub, she 249

  caught Bronwyn staring at her naked body with such blatant curiosity that she had to ask,

  "What?"

  "Oh!" She flushed at the embarrassment of being caught staring. "I dinnae mean to stare, but if it's not too bold, might I ask what that is?"

  "Huh?" Mackenzie followed her gaze down. "Oh you mean my belly ring?"

  "What is it?" she fingered the jeweled barbell gently.

  "Hmm...it's like an earring," Mackenzie touched her earlobes "but it is pierced through my navel. Where I come from, they're the latest fashion."

  "Ahh, that's right, the Americas. Are ye missin' yer lands much?"

  "Not so much anymore," she smiled thinking of Connor.

  "But I miss the heat, and the dry air. It's so different here."

  Bronwyn, it seemed, had taken offense to Mackenzie's comment. She quickly tried to repair the damage done to her one friend.

  "I find these lands to be some of the most beautiful that I've ever seen." At Bronwyn's smile, Mackenzie went on, "I'm not sure I could ever live somewhere without mountains."

  Bronwyn's face perked up at the mention of her lands.

  "Och, aye, dearie, these are some beautiful mountains.

  Soon they'll have snow covering them, and in the spring you'll see the flowers and heather bloom across the loch and into the moors. Oh aye, it's a lovely sight to behold." Bronwyn sighed happily at the thought of the Highlands in spring.

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  But, Mackenzie thought, I won't be here in the spring. She shook it off before she could depress herself any more, and tried to remember her new philosophy of living in the moment. Bronwyn had finished rubbing scented oils all over her hair and body, and helped her into the gown.

  "Married in blue, always be true" Bronwyn quoted.

  Mackenzie smiled thinking of the "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" adage.

  Once she was dressed, Bronwyn sat her down to plait her hair, weaving silver ribbons throughout, but leaving some of her hair down so the braids and ribbons laid against her nearly dry curls. Mackenzie desperately wished for makeup or at least some mascara. She briefly pondered trying to sneak a moment alone to swipe on some lip gloss when a knock rapped out on the door.

  "Mackenzie?"

  It was Connor! Bronwyn called through the closed door,

  "Me Laird, 'tis bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding!"

  Connor's sigh was audible through the heavy door. "'Tis time" was all he said before his footsteps echoed down the hallway.

  Mackenzie barely even got the chance to look in the mirror as Bronwyn looked out the door to see if Connor had indeed left. The last thought she had before she was ushered downstairs was that she was glad she'd spent her summer in the pool; her skin still retained a warm golden hue. Between the blue of the gown and her blonde hair, her tan gave her that glow that every bride hoped for on her wedding day.

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  The wedding. Her wedding. Her wedding to Connor. She'd pictured her wedding day numerous times since she was a child. Doesn't every little girl? But in all those games of pretend, and visions of herself dressed in gauzy white, not once had she ever envisioned herself getting married to a Highland laird during the 1700s. Who would? Bronwyn walked her to the door that led to the courtyard and handed her some blue and purple wildflowers tied with the same silver ribbons that she'd woven throughout her hair.

  "Good luck, me lady."

  And she opened the doors into the bright day.

  Mackenzie stepped out into the sunlight, pausing to allow her eyes to adjust to the sunlit morning. As she looked around, there were faces she didn't recognize, and then there was Connor. He was resplendent in a crisp yellow shirt, open to his chest, with a fresh plaid wrapped around him. His hair was tied back in a leather thong, as was Liam's, who stood beside him. She walked to him, wondering if she should walk slower in the typical step-together, step-together wedding walk, but she figured that this wasn't a typical wedding, so...She walked to Connor at a normal pace, not daring to look away just in case some of the guests still wore angry expressions. When she reached Connor, he grasped her hands in his, and handed the flowers to Liam without ever looking away. He smiled down into her eyes and she smiled shyly back, not sure what to expect. He looked happy. That was good. The bishop began the ceremony and she never took her eyes from Connor's.

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  They were married. There was a delicate diamond and sapphire gold band on her third finger, in case she had any doubt. Mackenzie could hardly remember the ceremony. All she remembered was Connor's warm hands on hers, and his blue eyes sparkling with happiness. It was so new and he seemed so carefree, that she wasn't sure what that meant.

  Why oh why must she over-analyze everything? She forced herself to focus on the here and now and to stop over-thinking it.

  She noticed that they were lined up in the receiving line and she was about to personally greet every single member of the clan. Most of the people whom she greeted were polite; every now and then a face would look hostile, or hold animosity, but she kept a polite smile on her face. A little girl gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Mackenzie's answering smile was genuine, and she felt a quick stab of envy for her mother. Mackenzie had never really wanted children, but suddenly she wanted Connor's children, and she wanted it with an intensity akin to pain. Her attention was diverted to the next little girl; she had pressed something soft into her hand—-a handkerchief.

  "Oh, it's lovely!" Mackenzie exclaimed, touched by the small token. No one had ever made her a gift before. It had the name Lady MacRae stitched into several flowers in the corner. It was so intricate, and the child couldn't be more than eight or nine!

  "Do you like it? Me mum says the flowers are all askew."

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  "I love it! And I'll tell you a secret," at the little girl's bright look, Mackenzie bent down, cupped her hand, and whispered,

  "My embroidery has crooked flowers too."

  The little girl giggled and skipped away holding her mother's hand.

  Connor leaned in close and spoke in Mackenzie's ear, "That was very gracious of you."

  A smile played about Mackenzie's lips as she turned her gaze from the little girl to Connor. "She was sweet. Who is she?"

  "She's my niece, Mairi."

  "Your niece? Then was that woman..."

  "My sister, aye."

  "Oh." Mackenzie wrinkled her nose and looked up confused, "Did you introduce us?"

  "You were too busy with Mairi," he smiled down at Mackenzie.

  "Oh," she blushed, feeling guilty for not meeting Connor's sister.

  The next round of well-wishers came by and Mackenzie made a concentrated effort to pay attention this time; Connal, Andrew, Donald, Ian, Isobel, Fiona, Elizabeth, Charlotte...how did Connor keep everybody's names straight? She knew he had grown up here, but wow, there were so many names. It was a little overwhelming.

  Once the myriad of people had paraded through the Hall, Mackenzie was allowed a quick respite. She and Connor walked arm in arm through the Hall to their table where Connor heaped her plate full of everything from beef to 254

  haggis. With most of the food that she hadn't heard of before, Mackenzie had learnt not to ask, and to just try it first. Haggis was another story. She'd known what it was pre-time travel, but she dug in anyway. Thinking she wouldn't like it, she was surprised that the haggis stew was pretty good. True to her American roots, though, she'd have preferred it with lots of ketchup. If she ever did make it back, maybe she'd order room service and have haggis with ketchup. Mackenzie caught herself daydreaming. Home. Home is where the heart is, right? What if her heart stayed here in eighteenth century Scotland? Would she really want to go back to twenty-first century America? Would she stay, if she could? More importantly, the main question was would Connor want her to stay?

  "Are ye no' h
ungry?" Connor's voice interrupted her now maudlin train of thought.

  "Hmm...?"

  "I'd be askin' you if you're hungry or not?" He was teasing her but his eyes were concerned. Mackenzie looked down at her plate to see that she'd only been pushing her food around.

  "Oh, no not really, I guess. There's just so much food."

  "Good," Liam piped up. "I'll take it." He reached across Connor and stabbed her haggis, taking it to his plate.

  Mackenzie laughed and teased, "You remind me of my brother."

  "How's that?" Liam asked around a mouthful of food.

  "Always hungry." They all three laughed at that, but Connor was watching her closely; his eyes missed nothing.

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  Mackenzie added, "And never serious. He was my best friend." She tried not to sound depressed, but it was difficult.

  Luckily Liam was flirting with a pretty brunette and hadn't noticed, but Connor did and pressed the issue, "Was?"

  Mackenzie fidgeted in her seat and toyed with her bread, crumbling it to bits. Knowing Connor, he wouldn't let it go.

  She sighed heavily and finally spoke, "He was killed recently."

  How did one explain a car accident to a man who'd never seen a car?

  Connor's warm hand enveloped hers, and she glanced up from beneath her lashes. His gaze trapped her eyes and they stared quietly into each others' eyes for who knew how long before Liam's boisterous laugh interrupted them. Mackenzie blinked and looked away. Wow, she felt like they had just had a "moment" but she didn't know what it meant. Well, she could over-analyze it later. Right now, she just wanted to enjoy her wedding feast.

  The idea that there was a feast in her honor right now was a heady thought and it put a genuine smile on her face. When Mackenzie turned back to Connor, the moment was gone, but his response to her smile was encouraging; he squeezed her hand and trailed the fingers of their joined hands down her cheek pausing at her mouth long enough for Mackenzie's lips to tremble slightly.

  One man came up to her and toasted her "child-bearing hips," while another toasted their happiness. It continued on like that with well-wishers until many were deep in their cups.