Rogue Highlander: Played Like a Fiddle

by Sondra Grey

  Brandon shook his head. “I can’t confirm or deny Cameron involvement. The timeline seems suspect. My father pledged to you but a year ago, right around the time when the Macleods of Lewis refused to hand over Angus. But I’m a dead man on Cameron land. I couldn’t go back to find out.”

  “It matters not,” said Argyll, softly. “We have MacDonald.”

  “A few well-placed threats might insure the continued compliance of the highland lords. They’ll have no idea how we captured MacDonald or gained the information. They’ll fear your spies are everywhere.”

  James nodded. “Which leaves us with France to consider. I don’t suppose you speak French, Cameron?”

  “I do not have your majesty’s gift for tongues,” said Brandon, regretfully.

  James nodded and, after a moment, picked up a sheaf of paper. “There’ll be no formal ceremony, of course. It wouldn’t be good for anyone to know that Brandon Cameron, knight of the realm, is a spy. But here it is,” he said, handing over a heavy metal crest, hanging from a thick silver chain. “And here is this,” he handed Brandon the piece of paper. “Aptly enough, it’s called Black Bridge. It’s an estate on the mouth of the River Forth. With a great deal of farming attached.”

  Brandon barely dared to breath. He could only bow low. “I thank you greatly majesty.”

  James waved him away. “It’s no more than you deserve, Cameron. If you’ve no loyalty in your blood, then your loyalty can be bought. I just hope you remember at whose behest you serve.”

  “At yours, Majesty. I am yours to call upon.”

  James grunted, Argyll nodded, and Huntley looked bored.

  “That’s it then,” said James. “Find yourself a wife Cameron. The estate is entitled to your line, so breed and give the land to your sons. Black Bridge is but a day’s ride from Edinburgh, so I expect you to be at hand when I call.”

  Brandon bowed low. “I’m your servant, Majesty.”

  Brandon strode out of the room heart leaping, the King’s words swimming through his head. Find a wife. Breed. Give the land to your sons.

  He closed his eyes and saw Meg. Meg, whose loneliness had echoed his. Whose beauty had ensnared him. Whose body was still burned into his blood.

  He shook his head. He’d all but ruined his chances with Meg. But he would try again. Because it was only in Meg’s company that he had found peace. And peace was what he wanted more than anything. And he wanted it for Meg as well.

  Chapter 10

  D undur was about as warm and as welcome as I could have wished. While the Laird was a bit distant, his wife was a lovely and lively beauty who loved to dance. The Grant clansmen present let her lead the way and even the Laird had begun to smile halfway through their set.

  Calum Grant, the Laird of Dundur, had been in attendance when we had played for the Macleans at Inveralt. He’d offered us good money to ride with him into Grant land and play for his wife’s birthday. And so, we’d agreed, thinking we might then head to Inverness for the winter. It was easier to pass Winters playing in the city. Thamas would return to his wife, but Robin, Glenna, and I would stay in Inverness with Ned and Babette. There’d be enough money to rent a place within the city walls.

  We’d finished our set on our third and last night at Dundur, when the Lady Isla slumped down into the seat beside me. Her cheeks were flushed from drink and dance, and she looked bright. I glanced towards where the Laird was still seated with a few of his clansmen at the top of the table. His eyes had found his wife and smiled and returned to his conversation.

  “Your playing is so beautiful,” said Isla, by way of greeting. “I’m no musician myself, but I’ve always appreciated music. Your song…” Ned had asked me to play The Wisher’s Well, which is a harp solo. I’d seen the lady Isla cry over my song. I’d almost begun to cry myself.

  “It was sorrowful,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Isla was silent a moment, the intensity of her expression warning me that she was going to continue speaking, that she was formulating a question.

  “How far along are you?” she asked. And it was so blunt, so straightforward that I started.

  “Don’t be surprised,” she said, reaching out and pressing a reassuring hand to my arm. “I’m a healer. I’ve seen to many a mother in their time of need. I know the signs.” She ran a familiar hand over my cheeks. “I’d guess you’re in your third month.”

  I didn’t know what to say to her. I looked around to see if Babette was in hearing. I had a feeling Babette knew. The way she kept looking at me, kept waiting for me to say something…

  “I won’t tell anyone,” said Isla. “But I wanted to let you know that I understand your sorrow. The sorrow I heard in your song. You loved him. The baby’s father.”

  There was something in her voice that coaxed me to respond. I closed my eyes. “Yes,” I said. I’d told Brandon to go that day. I’d said hateful things to him. But in the end, it didn’t matter. I’d had two months to rethink everything. To recall everything he’d said to me. To ferret out the lies from the truth. What I’d figured out: he’d grown up in the Cameron household, and it had taken me all of one day there to feel uncomfortable, unsafe. He’d grown up illegitimate. How lonely he must have been. And to be responsible for the death of his brothers. His quiet made more sense now, so did that loneliness I often felt radiating from him.

  And when we’d sailed the sea, and he’d looked over the ocean and said, “The water is one more way to imprison a man.” In my dreams, I still heard Angus spit at him, “Last I heard you were rotting away on an island.”

  When I had calmed down, when I had recovered from the encounter with Angus, and from Brandon’s departure, I had realized that Brandon had not lied to me that day in the woods. He’d told me the truth. It all added up. Meeting him at Edinburgh, needing to track down Angus. Spending years trapped on an island only to then be given to the King as a hostage. If you’d the opportunity to win your freedom, wouldn’t you have done it? A part of me had argued. And I’d felt miserable. Could I really blame Brandon for wanting his freedom more than he wanted me?

  But it was too late now.

  “Then I’m sorry,” said Isla. “It’s a frightening thing, being a woman alone in this world with a child to raise.”

  I smiled, but she wasn’t making me feel any better.

  “It must be a relief to know you have friends,” she said kindly.

  I nodded. In fact, I didn’t know what Ned and Babette would do when they found out. It wouldn’t do for business, to have a pregnant, unmarried woman playing the harp. There were many homes, even in the highlands, who’d not take us in.

  “It is a relief,” I lied. But I knew the tears in my eyes betrayed my doubt. Isla reached over and embraced me. “Should you need a safe place to have your child. You are welcome in Dundur. I’ve delivered many babes. My husband looks surly, but he’ll do as I ask,” she winked at me. “Be well.” She touched my cheek and stood, moving off into the crowd.

  Be well. I shook my head. I’d don’t nothing the past few months but get in my own way.

  That night, Glenna had disappeared with the new fiddle player, McGee. “He’s no Brandon,” she’d said, rolling her eyes. “But he’s fun!”

  Indeed, our new fiddler player was stout, with hands and fingers big enough that it was a surprise he managed to play the fiddle as nimbly as he did. Glenna’s preoccupation made Robin sour, and he’d been avoiding all of us when we weren’t playing. I wondered whether he’d come to Inverness with us or not.

  When we left the next day, however, Robin came with us, Inverness was not quite a day’s ride from Dundur, and Calum had assured me that the Red Bard, The Chief of Clan Grant, would take them in for the evening while they looked for a place to rent.

  But when we arrived at Edinburgh, the Red Bard was gone, ridden off to Huntley to meet with the Lord Gordon. But the steward of Castle Grant had instructions to house and feed the players, and so we were let in and
fed. We were in the kitchens, McGee was playing for the servants, when one of the Grant clansmen approached.

  “Is one of you Meg?” he asked, politely.

  Babette and Ned turned to look at me. I stood, fear slicing through me. Since Angus and Brandon had learned my true identity, I’d worried that word of my whereabouts would reach my father – that he’d come to claim me.

  I stood on shaky legs and followed the clansmen out into the hall, too nervous to ask any questions. As we moved into the entry, I expected to see my father. But it was not the hefty, portly Baron Anstruther who stood in the entry.

  Brandon’s black hair had been trimmed since I’d last seen him. His clothes were fine, kilt and tartan a beautiful soft green and blue. His shirt crisp, ruffled in the what must be the current fashion at court. My breath caught in my throat.

  Brandon stood at attention, hands behind his back. “Thank you,” he said to the Grand man who’d brought me into the entry.

  “There’s a room to your right that the Lord keeps as a parlour,” said the clansmen, pointing. Brandon nodded and opened the door. “Meg,” he said, beckoning me. “Please.”

  I stared at him mutely. He’d found me, he’d come back. My heart was in my throat and I found my feet moving before my mind told them to. I entered the room and barely saw the rich décor. I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Would you sit Meg?” Brandon asked. But too much nervous energy was swirling through me, and worse than that. Lust. It was as if my body hungered even more than my soul did. I burned for him and I held myself as if that might keep me from splintering apart.

  Brandon took a deep breath. “The King granted me my freedom,” said Brandon without preamble. “He gave me an estate, Black Bridge. A beautiful manner that sits on the banks of the River Forth. I’ve tenants, and acres of farmland. I’m a knight of the Thistle…” His voice broke and he stopped speaking.

  “I know none of this will impress you. But I thought I might start there. To tell you that I’ve land. I’ve property, and an income, and status. I’ve a room with bed large enough to sleep ten men. And all I want in the world is for you to be there with me.”

  He moved forward and took my elbows lightly, unwinding my arms and taking my hands in his. “I’m sorry for everything Meg. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for lying. But you of all people must understand why I did it. You must know it was not my intention to hurt you. That doing so hurt me more than you could know. That I don’t want to live with the knowledge that I hurt you. I want to love you, Meg. I was not lying in the woods when I told you that. And I wish I could have chosen you. I wish I could have chosen you and not Angus…”

  “It’s okay,” I said, my voice breaking. It was as if the break in my voice caused a break in the dam that held my tears at bay. They stared pouring down my cheeks. “I’m sorry!” I exclaimed trying to reach up to brush them aside but he held my hands fast.

  “Brandon, I’ve been so scared…”

  “I know.” He said and without preamble he pulled me too him, pressing my face into the soft fabric of his shirt. “I’ve been trying for a month to find you. I knew you were lying to me in the forest. I kept worrying I’d be too late…”

  He pulled back, staring at me. “Come back with me, Meg. Marry me. Stay with me at Black Bridge. Have your child at Black Bridge. Ned and Babette, and Robin, and Glenna. They can come too if they wish it. And if you want to travel and play with them, I would never stop you… but I want you, Meg. And now that I’m in a position to care for you… please…”

  His voice broke and I stared at him, and saw that I wasn’t the only one who upset. Brandon was upset too.

  “You don’t have to be Maighread Anstruther,” he told me. “You can be Meg Cameron. Or we can take a different name…”

  I was choking now, choking with joy. I couldn’t get the words out and so I threw my arms around his neck. He’d come back. After everything, he’d come back. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I could tell. I could tell in how hard he held me, in the lips that came down and burned into mine.

  An answering hunger rose up fiercely. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back. He tasted just as I remembered, and I cried even harder.

  Brandon pulled back, running a hand across my face. “Don’t cry,” he said, but I could see that he, too, had a tear down his cheek.

  I couldn’t answer him, and so I reared up again. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to banish all that loneliness I’d felt when he’d left. I wanted to know that I hadn’t ruined all of it. That we were still okay.

  Brandon’s lips tore at mine, our tongues tangled. We kissed and kissed until the kiss wasn’t good enough, until we needed more. Brandon growled and pulled us down onto the couch. He moved me around until I straddled his hips, his hands lifting my dress, urging me onto my knees.

  His fingers found the slick, wet center of me. I didn’t need coaxing, I was ready for him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything. He lifted his kilt, revealing that he, too, was as ready as I. And he guided me, slowly atop him, until I was impaled on the length of him.

  “I’m yours Meg,” he whispered roughly into my neck, his teeth scoring the sensitive flesh there. “I’m yours. Take me Meg.”

  So, I did. I found my own rhythm, each time he surged inside me, I cried out, the tension unbearable. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to ever be without him. I came without warning, my climax ripping through me with such intensity that I sagged against him. He took my lips in a vicious kiss, drinking my cries and making me keen as he took my hips in his hand and controlled the rhythm, surging against me, bringing me flush up against him, deeper and deeper until I could feel myself, once more, spiraling higher and higher.

  Brandon made a noise that sounded as if he were breaking apart. He thrust once more, deep and I came with him, panting as he wrung spasm after spasm from me, as he poured hot inside me.

  I came back to earth in his arms. His lips were at my ear, his hands smoothing the hair from my face. “I love you,” he was saying in my ear. “I love you. Will you marry me, Meg?”

  “Yes,” I said, weakly. I could feel the exhaustion of the last few months catching up with me. And relief for my future. I wasn’t alone. Brandon saw me. He loved me. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

  EPILOGUE

  “A re you sure you don’t want to stay another month?” Brandon asked Ned. It was too late, of course. Ned and Babette were already seated atop the mouth of the wagon, ready to head out. Robin and Glenna were on horseback. McGee was inside, sleeping off the drink he’d consumed last night.

  We’d had the whole village over for the Troupe’s farewell dinner. Even Brandon had played, allowing McGee to enjoy himself with the ale. And enjoy himself the large man had. I smiled remembering how he kept asking Glenna to marry him, and Glenna kept batting at him. “Ask me when you’re sober you lout!”

  “Thank you for the invitation,” said Ned, smiling. “But I wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome. We’ve an engagement in Leod in a week’s time. Tham is meeting us there.” He grinned at where I stood in the doorway, holding my daughter to my breast. She’d been born just a month earlier, and we’d named her Maisie, after Brandon’s mother. “Are you sure you both don’t want to come with us?” Ned asked, beaming. He’d stayed the winter with us, and while there wasn’t as much money to be made in Black Bridge as there was in inverness, the lodgings were nicer, and the King had called them to his palace in Stirling a few times, and paid them handsomely for their travel.

  “I’m settled in here for the time being,” said Brandon, smiling. “Meg?”

  I shook my head, but my heart soared, knowing he’d let me, if I wanted to. “I’m okay here.” I said, grinning at him. “But who knows how I’ll feel next year.” I beamed at Maisie, who was asleep.

  “Good on you lass,” said Ned. “Keep that boy on his toes. If he wants your love, he has to earn i
t!”

  Brandon laughed and tucked me gently beneath his shoulder. “Remember where we are!” he said to them. “We’ll see you in December next?”

  “Count on it, my boy!” said Ned, slapping the horses with the reigns until they started down the path. “Until the winter!”

  “Until then!” we both called.

  We stood in the doorway until we could no longer see their carriage. I felt a small catching in my chest. I missed them already.

  “They’ll be back,” said Brandon.

  “And we’ll be here,” I said, staring up into his eyes. Brandon looked at me a moment, but then peered worriedly out at the road. “There may be times I have to go. Times when James commands it. But my heart is with you,” he said. “And it’s here.” He stared up at the doorway. The doorway he’d carried me over when we’d first arrived.

  “And you’re here now,” I said.

  Brandon’s eyes took on a particular gleam. His hand on my shoulder slid down my back to rest on the swell of my hip. “Aye,” he said, voice low. “I’m here now. And she’s sleeping. What do you say we set her down and see about making our own music?”

  “Is that we’re calling it?” I murmured, allowing him to lead me back into the manor.

  “I’d like to think I play you just as well as I play the fiddle.”

  “Better,” I assured him, my body growing hot at the thought.

  Brandon grinned. “That,” he said. “And you do make the most wonderful sounds.”

  THE END

  Here is a FREE SPECIAL BONUS…

  Rogue Highlander

  A Captured Heart

  PROLOGUE

  T wo young men stood on a hillside, looking down at the village below. From their vantage point, the village was nothing but a series of brown rooves amidst the deep green of late summer trees. The scene was empty save for a lone figure who was leaning against the grey stone walls of the kirk.