Heart of a Highlander_Scottish Historical Romance

by Tammy Andresen

  “It doesn’t matter, now.” She tried harder to pull out of his arms but he held her fast.

  “Fiona?” It was a question but she wouldn’t answer it. “I won’t leave ye to face this alone.”

  She stopped trying to pull away then and her anger bubbled to the surface. “Ye already have. And ye’ve made it perfectly clear that ye only want to be my friend.” Her fists banged against his chest with every word she spoke. “It’s too late, Colin.”

  “Marry me, Fiona.” As he said the words his throat worked as his faced paled even further. He didn’t want to marry her. Silly tears once again pricked at her eyes. She wanted the anger, not the sadness and she did not want his pity proposal.

  “No,” she clenched her teeth as she spoke.

  “What?” He lifted her off her feet, and though she tried to kick at his shins, he spread his legs so she couldn’t reach them. Face to face, he looked her in the eyes. “Don’t be a fool, Fiona.”

  “I’m the fool?” she near spat in his face. “Ye’ve ruined my life with yer careless behavior but I’m the fool.” Her voice was rising. “I wouldn’t marry ye if ye were the last man in Scotland. Now put me down and leave me be!”

  He did just that. Setting her on her feet, Colin turned and walked away. Fiona’s heart seized in her chest. What had she just done?

  Chapter 4

  Colin bypassed the barn and headed out on the open land that surrounded the Stewarts’ estate. What had he done?

  He’d proposed. And that alone should have frightened him beyond belief. It went against everything his father had taught him. He knew he couldn’t marry a woman he cared about so deeply. And he did care for her. He couldn’t deny it, it was precisely why he couldn’t be with her.

  He pictured his life with some other woman. One who didn’t dump water on his head. One who didn’t ride until breathless and push him faster. One who didn’t kiss like his lips were wine and she longed to be drunk. It was hollow…a future where Fiona wasn’t part of his life.

  He’d touched her, that night in the barn, in her most intimate place. It wasn’t the first time he’d been with a woman. There had been many, but none had felt like her. So soft, warm and wet, tight around his finger like a silky glove. Every part of her had clung to him with the passion that only Fiona could exude.

  Some other man might get that passion. It was like a knife to Colin’s heart. She couldn’t be his but he didn’t want her to be anyone else’s. Even worse, was if that man didn’t want it. What if he tried to mold Colin’s wild Fiona into something domestic and agreeable? It was a crime against nature. Fiona was a wild beauty beyond compare. “Feck,” he yelled into the wind. They were just friends, he told himself. But he knew is wasn’t true, much as he hated to admit it. Because, his father was right. It would be so much simpler without these feelings. And his affection was causing nothing but problems. Was it also true that love like that had ended Elswith’s life? He couldn’t think about it anymore so instead, he broke into a run, aimlessly covering ground across the Stewarts’ land.

  That night in the barn, she’d broken to pieces in his arms. He’d held her close after and she’d fallen asleep against him. Then, he’d spent most of the night watching her, so soft and pretty. He’d stroked her hair, and in that moment, he’d thought his father wrong. This couldn’t be bad. What he’d felt was magical.

  He hadn’t fallen asleep until near sunrise and when he woke a few hours later, he’d slipped away, ready to admit that Fiona was more than just his friend. He knew how he felt. But that feeling had lasted as long as it had taken him to ride home.

  When he’d gotten there, he’d known instantly that his father was ill. The hushed voices, the drawn curtains told him exactly what was wrong. But even his mother had looked worried, and she was never fussed about his bouts of illness.

  “He’s got a cough,” she had whispered.

  He had sprinted up the stairs and into his father’s room. The man was tucked in his bed looking weaker than Colin had ever seen him. “Da?” he’d called.

  “Come here, Colin,” his father’s hoarse whisper had drawn him over. “I’m so glad tae see ye, me boy. Yer Da needs ye now. I need ye tae go tae the summit fer me while yer brother stays here to run the estate.” His father had clutched at his hand.

  “Of course,” he had replied. Unlike when he was a boy, and had been afraid of sadness, he wanted to comfort his father now. Ease the man’s suffering.

  “Remember what I’ve told ye, Colin. Protect yerself and yer heart. Protect the people ye care about by making smart decisions instead of ones that are made with yer feelings. It’s a mistake, and it will cost lives.” His father took a ragged breath. “I don’t ken how much longer I’ll be here. But yer a man now and a man makes the hard choices, Colin. Remember that.” His father had closed his eyes then but he continued holding his son’s hand and Colin had sat for a long time. When he’d finally gotten up, he hadn’t gone to see Haggis McDougal to ask for Fiona’s hand. Instead he’d ridden to the loch and stared at the grey of the water for a long time.

  Much like he was doing right now.

  It was hard, holding himself apart from Fiona. But he’d watched love tear his father apart. It had been Elswith’s undoing. He wouldn’t do that to Fiona. No matter how it hurt.

  Stumbling upon a small pond, he tossed a rock across its surface. He’d promised his father he’d marry for the right reasons but it was getting harder to pretend he only wanted to be Fiona’s friend. He hung his head in his hands, his mind clouded with indecision.

  The wind picked up and he started to shiver in his wet clothes. Standing straighter, he made to turn around when the distinct sound of hooves caught his ears. The riding party was coming. He wouldn’t hide now, but his fists clenched at being caught soaking wet by the pond. He didn’t want them to know he was sulking and it would be obvious, he was sure, to all the men.

  Sure enough, as the first riders crested the hill, he noticed Rutland in the front, pointing and laughing. He hated that weasel-faced egit. Laird Lockwood was a fine man. How his son could be so worthless was beyond Colin. Next to him was the son of a baron, Alastair McFarley. A few years older than Colin, he was a handsome devil, and popular with the ladies. But there was something about him that Colin didn’t care for. A disregard for others just under the surface. A few years back, he and his father had gone to visit the McFarleys. Alastair had taken up with a village girl. When she’d come to him saying she was carrying his child, he’d dismissed her without thought or compensation of any kind. It made Colin sick to remember.

  Colin had gotten the distinct impression that Alastair would have been even meaner if Colin hadn’t been present. It was in the lines of his body, the barely contained fury in his voice.

  Colin himself had gone to the girl and given her money for a dowry. He’d told her to marry the first boy she could and never speak of Alastair again.

  Colin had been rather popular with the ladies himself, but he’d stopped any dalliances after that day. He’d never put a woman in that position. Except that he had. Fiona’s father was forcing her to marry after what they’d done. Hell and damnation.

  Rutland and Alastair rode ahead of the group and Colin braced himself. Those two had laughed the loudest in the barn when Fiona had soaked him. “Yer still wet,” Rutland crowed. “Fiona sure is a pistol, dumping water on ye like that. Why ye stick up fer that beast of a girl, I’ll never know.”

  Alastair gave a lewd smile. “Beast, aye. Haven’t ye ever broken a beast before, Rutland? It’s delightful.”

  Images of Alastair roughly touching Fiona flashed through his mind and he near roared with anger. Fiona deserved to be worshipped, not broken. He’d die before he let a man like Alastair touch her.

  But before he could respond, Rutland did. “I see yer point. That is one woman who needs to be tamed. She’d heel eventually, they all do.”

  Colin took a deep breath. If Fiona were here, she’d attack first and question the
wisdom of those actions later. But he would keep his head. For now, they were just words. But if either of them tried to touch her, well that was a different story entirely. “Fiona, isn’t for either of you,” he rasped out.

  “Is she fer ye?” Rutland leaned down triumphantly. He was getting brave up there on his horse. Colin was going to have to unseat him soon, if he didn’t start using some manners. “Because her da seems to think she’s available to any man willing tae take her.”

  A red haze was forming in front of Colin’s vision. “Everyone here knows ye wouldn’t be man enough,” he gritted out.

  Alastair laughed, a cruel-sounding cackle that made Rutland shrink and even Colin felt the tiniest bit sorry for him. “He’s right there, ye haven’t got it in ye.” Alastair made a lewd gesture toward his manhood. “Now this, this would—”

  But he didn’t get to finish. With a flick of his wrist, Colin tugged on Alastair’s leg and out of the saddle he came, landing with a thump on the ground.

  Haggis and Laird Stewart joined them with several other men as Alastair pulled himself up from the ground and lunged at Colin. He was ready though and easily sidestepped the maneuver. Alastair’s own momentum sent him careening into the pond.

  “Colin Campbell,” Haggis gave him the eye. “What’s gotten into you, son? Are ye wet from the pond? And why are ye fightin’ again today?”

  Colin took a breath. Haggis had become like a second father to him over the years. He spent a great deal of time with Fiona, and unlike his own father, Haggis was always steady and strong. “We aren’t fighting. Just some good-natured fun.” To prove his point, he reached down and helped pull Alastair from the water and back up to standing.

  Haggis swung off his giant beast of a horse. “Yer father wants ye to act the part of leader here. I believe that starts with not fighting.” Haggis’ voice was stern but several of the men quietly snickered at the lecture Colin was getting. Not that Colin cared. He had bested all of them and he could do it again. They were delighting now, because Haggis was able to do what they could not.

  “Yes, my lord,” Colin replied.

  “Do ye want to take my horse back?” Haggis was looking at him curiously.

  Colin shook his head. “I’ll ride back with Alastair; we both need to change.”

  Haggis got back on his own mount. “I’ll see ye later then.” He scratched his head. “I thought Fiona would want to ride wit’ us, but I haven’t seen her this mornin’, have ye?”

  The men snickered louder and Colin’s gut clenched. “I don’t think she’s feelin’ that well.”

  Haggis’ eyes narrowed at Colin’s lack of an answer, or perhaps because of the other men’s reaction, as his head swiveled and he assessed the men around him. Colin could see Haggis’s hands tightening on the reigns but he said nothing else as he kicked his horse forward.

  The rest of the men took off at a trot behind him, Rutland with them. Once they were out of sight, Alastair gave him a sneer, “You ken I am not takin’ ye back.”

  Colin stepped closer. “Ye are, and I’ll do far worse tae ye if I ever hear ye talk about Fiona like that again.”

  Alastair sighed, his face still set in angry lines. “It doesn’t work like that, Colin. It’s just the way men talk. Ye can’t beat everyone up who considers her unless ye want her for yer own. Yer not her kin.”

  Colin understood the truth of the words, not that he’d admit it to Alastair. He did have to decide. Would he risk Fiona by giving her his heart?

  Chapter 5

  Fiona sat in her room and looked out the window at the darkening sky. Mary had already come to do her hair for dinner. Her sunny company had been a welcome treat.

  A knock sounded at her door and for a wild second, she thought it might be Colin. Did he want to apologize? Demand an apology? Her heart beat wildly, all the possibilities stormed through her mind.

  Rising on unsteady legs, she began crossing the room when her father’s voice boomed from the other side. “Open up. We need to talk.”

  Her spine stiffened as she finished crossing the room and yanked the door open. “Hello,” she said as she quickly gave a curtsy, feigning manners to point out his complete lack of them.

  “Don’t start wit’ me, young lady.” Her father entered the room and then closed the door. “Why was Colin Campbell all wet and when I asked him about ye, everyone started to snicker?”

  Fiona bit her lip. “It’s still quite cold. Why would Colin be walkin’ around wet?”

  “That is what I am askin’ ye.”

  She gave a shrug, hoping it was convincing. “How would I know?”

  “You listen to me,” her father stepped closer, wagging his finger. “Alastair McFarley and Lord Halfmann have asked to court ye.”

  She gasped. Alastair was pleasant enough to look at but she didn’t know a thing about him. But Halfmann was just what his name implied, half a man. Short and rotund, he was an insufferable know-it-all who spent all his time with his nose in a book. “Da, ye can’t be serious. We’ve only just arrived.”

  “I’m serious. You better git serious too. If ye don’t pick, I’ll pick fer ye.” And then he wrenched open the door and left.

  Fiona placed her head in her hands, she should have said yes to Colin this morning. Now it was too late.

  But she didn’t have long to wallow in pity because dinner was about to start. And she had a suitor to find. Fiona would be damned before she allowed her father to pick for her.

  Squaring her shoulders, she made her way downstairs. She’d be polite, she’d smile and she’d ask questions to learn about the men who were interested in her.

  But, just like the night before, it began to go terribly wrong before it had even started. The moment she walked through the door, several men chuckled. Then the whispering began.

  In her heart, she knew she deserved it. She’d dumped a bucket of water on Colin’s head in front of everyone. But it didn’t stop her porcelain cheeks from flaming with color.

  Alastair McFarley was in front of her then. His eyebrows were raised and his lips quirked to one side. “I like yer fire, lass.”

  “What?” she asked. Was he referring to her hair, her cheeks, or her temper?

  “I bet ye burn bright. We could burn together.” His look turned lecherous. That night in the barn with Colin, she felt near on fire. Her body heating at his touch. But that couldn’t be what Alastair meant.

  She tried to step around him, determined not to cause trouble this evening. But his hand reached out to grasp her arm, pulling her back in. “I’ve asked to court ye, but I want to ken what I might be getting if I do.”

  A hand at her back made her head snap around. “Remove yer hand from me daughter’s arm,” her father rumbled. She’d seen him angry a great deal lately but nothing like this. The fury just under his words frightened even her.

  Alastair stepped back, fear lighting his eyes. But it was Colin’s voice she heard next. “I told ye to stay away.”

  Fiona half expected her father to tell Colin it wasn’t his place but he said nothing of the sort and it was Colin who escorted her to her seat at the table. After he helped her to sit, he walked around the massive wooden furniture and took the seat across from her. Halfmann sat to her right and she tried to keep from groaning.

  There had to be other suitors. But it only got worse. None other than Rutland sat at her left and she sighed with frustration.

  But the whispers about her quieted, at least that she could tell. And as the first course was served, she sat quietly eating her soup. There was no use in talking to any of the men who sat around her. Anything she had to say to Colin was best kept private and the other two… She would never marry either of them.

  Instead, she tried to logically sort her feelings for Colin. It was something she’d attempted, and failed, to do all day. On one side, she’d been angry at him for not offering. But when he finally had, she’d rejected him. Why?

  Because her feelings were hurt. Because he’d only off
ered out of obligation. What did she want? A declaration of love?

  Her entire body heated and she flushed red. What a silly girl she was. Colin wanted her to be his friend and she wanted him to love her passionately.

  If she’d accepted, would he grow to love her in time? She feared she’d never know because she’d turned him down.

  Even if she’d said yes, she’d still be plagued with doubts. He obviously didn’t feel for her what she felt for him.

  Looking across the table at him, she realized she loved him. Little good that did. All it seemed to do was raise her ire as he didn’t return the sentiment.

  “What are you thinking?” The man himself interrupted her thoughts.

  Her eyes met his and her breath caught. He was so beautiful, in that manly sort of way. His brown eyes sparkling at her, his lips tugged up in a jaunty smile. “Thank ye for what ye offered earlier,” she spoke softly and his eyes widened as he sat up in his chair.

  “Did ye…have ye…did ye change yer mind?” His face went several shades paler.

  It was like a knife in her heart. He didn’t want her and marrying her filled him with fear. But that wasn’t why she had brought it up. Much as it hurt, it wasn’t his fault if he didn’t feel the same about her. “I just wanted ye to ken that I’m done being angry wit’ ye. I’m glad yer my friend.” And that is what friends did. They forgave.

  The next course was served so Colin didn’t have an opportunity to respond and then Lord Halfmann pulled her into conversation. “It’s lovely to see you again, Fiona.” He twirled a glass in his fingers, his thick lips set in a smile.

  “You too, Lord Halfmann.” She was determined to be polite. Her father was right, in his own way. She needed to grow up, or at least grow past her feelings for Colin and she wouldn’t do that by riding horses or sparring with the men. She needed to be a lady. What an irritating day of truths it had been.

  His smile grew. “Call me Fergus.” His meaty hand rested on the back of her chair. “I hope we can get to know one another.” His accent had become distinctly more English since she’d last seen him. While he did live in the south, it still seemed ludicrous to try and be rid of one’s country’s way of speaking. Was he trying to be more English?