After all, compromising her was the least of his worries. He could seduce her body, but he couldn’t seduce her heart, her trust or her soul. For the first time in his life, he wanted much more than sex.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nial spent most of the next day in his room, pacing and willing the time away.
Separation from Heather felt unnatural, and had he been at home he would have put an end to it last night. Aye, he would have taken her from her bed and had her to a priest within an hour. Within two he would have been buried so deeply within her that neither would know where one ended and the other began. As roiled up as he felt, he knew that when his lady finally bore his name, he would be on her and in her morning, noon and night. The elders would surely complain that he was neglecting clan affairs.
He laughed aloud at that thought. Nay, the elders would not complain a bit. They would begin eyeing Heather’s tummy, assured that with the laird’s intense interest, she would sooner, rather than later, carry the heir they were so bloody concerned about. At the thought, he suddenly saw their bairns – a lad with hair of every shade of brown in the rainbow and Nial’s navy blue eyes, and a little lass with Nial’s black locks and golden eyes. He felt his eyes fill with traces of moisture that were so unusual for him it was a moment before he identified it as tears. He reached up to dash them away with impatience and glanced up to see a grinning jackal staring back at him.
“Do you never knock, man?”
“I knocked repeatedly. When there was no answer, I stuck my head in and saw you standing in the middle of the room in some kind of damned trance. What’s going on? We have not seen you all day,” Boz was concerned.
“I’m a wee bit impatient,” Nial admitted with an apologetic shrug, “but I did not mean worry you.”
“Impatient? Ahh, there must be a planned outing with the fair Heather today. I wanted to talk to you about her. Considering how the two of you appeared when she left your room yesterday, and the stain on the front of your trousers, I have grave doubts that you are taking our plan seriously.”
“It was a bloody stupid plan. I don’t want Heather thinking I’m courting someone else. I don’t need her to be jealous – I simply need her to be mine. And yes, there is an outing today. I’m taking her on a picnic.”
“You’d better speed up your work. Rumor has it that her father arrived in town late yesterday.” Sedgewick waited for the meaning of that to penetrate, but finally decided that his friend was currently incapable of thinking about anything other than future conjugals.
.“Talk is that a number of the young bloods would like to take a trip down the altar with her. All of them have awaited the appearance of her father to seek her hand. You may find a line at the study when you arrive to pick her up for your picnic.”
Nial whirled and advanced on him, the green-eyed monster firmly riding his shoulders, and a blood lust in his eyes that he heretofore wore only prior to a battle. Boz held up his hands saying “not me.” The laird had to content himself with punching the wall. His fist made a nice hole in the plaster and he returned to pacing the room as his cousin left laughing.
******
Heather spent the morning anticipating the afternoon outing, She had mixed emotions about it, for she knew full well that she was not Nial’s fate. What was he up to? The man riding the evil Sorcha may have been drugged. He said so and her memories and herbal knowledge made her believe the account. However, his confessed intent had been to drive her away. So Heather paced too.
“Let me get this straight. The man risked certain death to save you yesterday, and he outright told you that you were his fate, but you don’t believe him.” Viv said. "I admit, half Scot by blood or not, I'm far too English to take all this talk of faeries seriously. Let's move on to a subject I do take seriously. What happened after you got back to Sedgewick’s house?”
Heather’s profuse blush was its own answer.
“Well,” she demanded a verbal response, more to needle her cousin than anything else.
“He let me touch him.”
“Touch him how?” Viv wanted details.
“Any way I wanted.” She wasn’t in the mood to provide them.
“As far as I know, you're the only marriageable lady ever given carte blanche to touch the handsome laird without getting the Maclee swipe. Or did he? Did he swipe your hands away?”
“Not yet.”
“How was it? You say Geoff’s kiss and attempts to grope you only inspired panic. How did touching him feel?”
Heather sighed before she plopped down on the bed to try to describe the indescribable. “It was like holding fire. It made me feel powerful and weak and achy and melting all at the same time.”
“But you’re afraid to trust him?”
“Seeing him with the black widow killed every dream an innocent young girl had. He was my faerie tale prince and he was going to love me forever. When I saw him spending himself in that witch, all my dreams died. A big part of me died with them.” She twisted to face her cousin who had grasped her hand and had tears in her eyes, “So I came here to craft new ones. Now he’s appeared offering every fantasy I ever had on a silver platter. If I allow myself to trust him and he doesn’t deserve my trust, I won't survive it.”
"You know I'm a strong believer in female power. There are pitifully few ways for a woman to be in control. More of us need to decide our own futures instead of simply handing them over to our fathers or husbands. If you could, would you give yourself to him fully? Would you know his passion as completely as possible, and let him teach you of your own?”
“I think I could never feel complete as a woman if I miss the chance to know Nial. But how can I risk it?”
“I have a plan. I have a business opportunity in America. It’s a new place where a strong woman can make her own way. I’ve made an investment there. With the help of a friend, I've located a gold claim in California. I will make enough money to start my own business and return here as an independent businesswoman in control of her own fortune. Perhaps I will even create a deceased husband. Then I can be a widow running a former spouse’s business. Such things have been done, you know. You can come with me and make your way in America too. So take your chances with Nial. Test him and when you are ready, know him in every way you want to. If it turns out that he isn't on the level, if he betrays you again, then you walk away and come with me and we start in a new place together.”
Heather drew in a breath and forgot to release it. When her cousin playfully punched her stomach, she gasped for air and said, “You would do that for me? Why, I could risk jumping off the cliff, knowing that I have a safe place to land. Well, I can as long as I keep my wits about me and don’t take Nial seriously. I can take the physical risk, thanks to you and I won’t get hurt too badly as long as I don’t trust him with more than that.”
Viv’s eyes sparkled wickedly. “Well, if you plan to take the leap and grub with himself today, we better see that you are suitably garbed to inspire some really serious grubbing.”
About an hour after luncheon, Bonnie swept into the room. “There are several young men downstairs demanding to speak with your father. I think they all mean to ask for your hand my dear.” Your father is none to eager to speak with them. I believe his choice would keep you with us on Skye. So I’m here as your mother, pet. Tell me what you want.”
Heather’s smile held only a trace of sadness. “Need you ask?”
“He hurt you baby and if we had this talk yesterday I would have been furious that you would consider him again. Today is different because yesterday, he faced death without a thought of himself to save you. That is the ultimate act of a man in love. Trust me, having a man put you before himself is a rare experience, and if you have the chance for a love like that it’s worth risking even the Maclee again.”
Sweeping to the door, Bonnie promised, “Carrick will put them off for a while. He seems anxious to see Nial, though assuredly not as anxious as you, my dear. The others wil
l be a fallback. ‘Tis a smart woman who leaves herself an option to fall back on, and you have several. They are getting a bit contentious though. Our warriors and those of Laird Nial who accompanied your father are on standby to break up any battles.”
“Oh, surely it won’t come to that, Mother. You exaggerate,” Heather protested.
“On the contrary, when Carrick's choice and yours apparently, arrives and is allowed to whisk you away without a chaperone, I predict that blows may be exchanged. But never fear, my money is on the Highlanders every time.”
She bounded up and crushed her Mother in an excited hug. “I get to spend time alone with Nial”
Laughing as she exited, Bonnie proclaimed, “Indeed you do. lass. I don’t know what passed between them before he left for London in a tearing hurry as I hear it, but Carrick is firmly convinced that Maclee's intentions are above honorable. He’s positive that they’re set in stone. Or perhaps written on a faerie cloud.”
******
The Highland laird who usually led a fearless and bloody charge into the battles he expected to, and usually did, win, acknowledged that his nerves had trounced him this time. Nial approached the house, straightening the hem of his kilt for about the tenth time. He preened like the women trying to attract or keep his interest. That shoe didn't fit so well now that it sat on his foot.
He ruefully acknowledged that he'd planned his garb today with more care than he'd ever taken with it before. Nial wore full Highland regalia, complete with sporran. When he left the house with his fate on his arm, he'd be a Scot. His attire would remind her that they shared their cherished Isle of Skye. Not only that, but he wore his kilt in the traditional Scottish manner so his privates were getting an air bath. He disdained a coat, and wore a linen shirt with sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons open. If Heather wanted access to any of him, it was hers as was he.
His biggest fear about the outing was of the extent of his control. If she touched him as he guessed - hoped - she would, he didn’t know how he could hold out. If he saw her as nature made her, he didn’t think he’d have a prayer of doing it. He promised her satisfaction, but intended to give it to her short of consummation. He did not want to dishonor her before she was his wife, but had grave doubts about whether his resolution could survive those claws of passion.
The Butler answered his knock and escorted him to the back of the house where, true to Boz’s bloody sixth sense, five men waited in a line outside the study. Badgerton stood at the head of the line. At his entrance, the others shifted uneasily. Geoff broke out laughing and his laughter grew in intensity, until he began nudging others with his elbow and they passed it on until the lot of them cackled and stared.
Badgerton approached within a few feet. “Tell me, Laird Maclee, where did you get that fine purse you carry? I believe my sister has one like it. All that talk of faeries and such, well I should’ve guessed they would save one of their own. Are you a faerie, indeed? Do you wear that dress to give the blokes easy access?”
An older man appeared, also garbed in a kilt, and his stormy countenance would have convinced many to shut up, but Badgerton’s tongue sped ahead of his brain, as he gestured to Carrick. “You like them older, Nial? Tell me, which of you fine ladies puts it in the other? Or maybe you take turns. That’s it, share and share alike, right?”
Heather and Bonnie had started descending the stairs just before Badgerton began to speak. When they heard his outburst, they cast an alarmed glance at each other before they gathered their skirts and ran. Nial’s fist connected with Geoff’s face and then his stomach with enough force to double him over. A hearty kick sent English to the floor, where Nial held him by the pressing his shoe to the sprawled man's chest.
“You bloody ass. Your insult of the proud dress of my Highlands I’ll excuse as the product of Sassannach ignorance. Your insult of me cannot be taken seriously and I’ll excuse it as the product of jealousy, for I know you foolishly covet my Heather.”
The other man tried to rise, sputtering at Nial’s possessive reference, but the laird kicked him back to the ground, and applied greater pressure, this time directly to his throat. “But your insult of Laird Carrick, I’ll not tolerate. A little more pressure, just here and I’d snap your silly neck like a twig. If I keep the pressure up here, you will die just the same, but you will have time to make a few painful gasps for breath before you expire. So on the whole, I believe it’s here I shall stand.”
Carrick, already well pleased at Nial's defense, smiled when Heather followed her mother into the room. At the sight of his lass, the fierce light of battle in Maclee's eyes transformed into another light entirely. Heather ran to him, cutting a fine figure in her simple gold gown, which matched her exotic eyes. It was closely fitted to her body and worn off the shoulders.
Badgerton's harsh gasps for breath drew MacIver's attention, and he said, "You'll have to decide what to do with him, lad. I've fought at your side and I know that many a finer man than this vermin has met his death at your hands. Shall this pathetic Sassannach have the honor of being next?"
Heather’s fingers played through the sprigs of black hair on Nial’s forearm as she leaned closer. “Let him go. I do not wish today to be marred by death or violence.” She put a hand to his cheek, and he pressed against it with half-lowered lids. “Please, for me.”
He lightened the pressure a bit but did not let the other man up. “Heather, my love, the bastard insulted your father.” The light of true alarm flared in Geoff’s eyes as he glanced quickly at the other Scot and for the first time made the connection.
“Please?” She slid a finger across his lips.
“Laird Carrick?” Nial inquired.
The other man didn't rush his answer. “Let him go, son. I’ll just count myself lucky that my grandchildren will not have blood that stupid. Besides, my daughter is right. ‘Tis not a day for bloodshed.”
At Carrick’s request, the Maclee moved his foot. Badgerton lay clutching his throat and gasping for breath. Nial kicked the bastard’s back, saying, “Get up, you English weakling.”
“I’ll help with that,” Carrick volunteered, opening a side door to call, “Lads, please remove the offal from the room.”
With that, several Scottish warriors entered the room and quickly disposed of all of the suitors. As the room cleared of competition, Nial breathed easier and flushed when he realized Laird MacIver correctly interpreted his relief.
Carrick merely suggested that they sit and chat for a minute before his daughter and the Maclee left. Nial's eyes flashed the question and MacIver smiled and nodded. This time, it was impossible to mistake the relief on Nial's countenance and he didn’t bother to look the least embarrassed. “Thank you, sir,” he said with heartfelt sincerity.
Vi and John entered the room and voiced immediate protests to Carrick’s message that the pair would enjoy their outing without a chaperone.
Nial tucked Heather close to his side on the sofa, but very soon had reason to regret that fact. Her fingers traced circles over the palm of his hand and caused his eyes to heat in passion, which Violet identified without trouble. “Just look. He’s ready to go at her right here in the midst of her family. Surely you will relent and at least allow Peter to chaperone?”
As Heather traced the pulse that beat too fast in his wrist, he shifted restlessly on the seat and the wench smiled and winked at him. Unable to fix his attention anywhere else, even to the conversation in which he had such a personal stake, he leaned close to her to whisper, “I’m dressed in the old way today, love.” Heather’s eyes began smoldering, as she understood the meaning of his words.
“Nial,” Carrick said, “It would help convince Vi and John that I’m not a mad old Scot if you could try for a moment not to look like you’re about to ravish Heather on the sofa.”
Suddenly serious, Nial stood and tugged Heather up beside him. He placed his arm around her waist as he faced his future in-laws. “Laird Carrick and Lady Bonnie, I believe that both of
you know full well that I love your daughter beyond all else.” Heather gasped, and Nial halted to press a light kiss to her lips.
“In fact, being wiser than I, you may have had an inkling that Heather was my fate at a time when I was too stupid, too blind, or just too full of myself to realize it. I screwed up royally and betrayed her and lost her trust. Both of you appreciate what your English relations don’t. When I say to you that she is my faerie fated love you know that my intentions are beyond honorable. You know that I have committed myself to your daughter body and soul, forever.”
He looked in Heather’s eyes as he continued. “Yet she remains unconvinced. She seems not to realize the power she wields over me and foolishly expects that my interest in her is temporary. Well, perhaps I deserve to have to prove otherwise to her.”
He faced Carrick, man to man. “Sir, if the proof to your daughter takes the form of the physical, then I’ll do my best not to dishonor her. I can make you no promises for I believe you also know that, to quote a family curse, “she sets the claws of passion to my manhood,” Vi gasped at the plain words, but Bonnie and Carrick didn’t bat an eye.
“Whether or not I know Heather fully before our union is blessed by the church, I can promise I intend to wed her. I will take her and make Scots' vows without her consent, if I must, though I'm trying to convince her otherwise. I can't and won't lose your daughter. She holds my soul and is my only path to happiness. I hope to win her consent, but I claim Heather as my wife today.”
Carrick’s eyes looked suspiciously liquid, and Bonnie shed tears unabashedly. After a couple of tries at clearing the knot from his throat, the MacIver finally found his voice. "Son, being a proud Scot myself, I know how difficult 'twas for you to bare your soul like you just did. I also understand how much courage it took for you to do it here, before a group containing folks who don't understand the commitment you just made. My brother-in-law still expects me to make some threat about what I'll do if you play fast and loose with my daughter. I'll not insult you that way for my wife and I do understand. You've claimed my lass as your mate. So be it."
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