Kissing the Highlander

by Terry Spear

  “She is welcome to stay at MacNabb as long as she wishes,” Keenan interjected before their comments could grow more heated. “The bairns love her. She’s taught them many new songs.”

  “Songs, pah!” her father declared, waving a dismissive hand.

  “Nay,” Keenan argued. “I’ve seen more smiles since Marsali’s arrival than I’ve seen in months.”

  Most notably, on his own face, Marsali thought. Keenan saw his own healing reflected in those around him. Despite the tension of their confrontation, that gave her a warm sense of satisfaction.

  “She deserted her home and put herself at great risk. Thanks to ye,” he snarled at Gavan, “she may no longer be fit to do her duty to her clan.”

  Marsali felt her skin heat—from anger as much as from embarrassment.

  “That is no’ true!” Gavan objected. “I saw her safe to my clan, where she’s been cared for ever since.”

  “Ye encouraged her, ye mean.”

  “Father, nay!” Marsali could not keep quiet any longer. This was her fault, not Gavan’s.

  “Silence, daughter,” Murray commanded, grabbing her arm and making her whimper with pain as his fist tightened. “Ye have said—and done—quite enough.”

  “What do ye think ye are doing?” Gavan’s sudden exclamation, loud and angry, startled her.

  Before she knew what was happening, Gavan had wedged himself between her and her father, forcing her father to release her arm. Gavan’s strong back shielded her from his anger.

  “Move out of the way, unless ye intend to make her yer wife.” Murray’s tone brooked no objections, but Gavan held his ground while Marsali’s heart froze in her chest, waiting to hear his answer.

  “Ye willna hurt her,” Gavan growled. “No’ while I am here to stop ye.”

  Murray’s fist flashed before Marsali’s eyes. The blow landed against Gavan’s jaw. The impact snapped his head back and knocked him into her. Marsali fought to stay on her feet, keep Gavan on his, and stay out of the way of her father’s punches, all at the same time. She needn’t have bothered.

  Gavan surged forward. He pushed her father out into the hall, where he slammed him against the wall and held him in place with an arm across his throat. “Ye promised the MacNabb there would be no violence. Yer daughter has no’ been hurt. Nor have ye. I suggest ye calm down and think about where ye are and what ye’re doing.”

  “Ye have had a long journey,” Keenan added, stepping forward. “The MacNabb and our mother, Lady MacNabb have invited ye to stay the night. I suggest ye go to them now and take them up on their offer. Get some rest. If ye do so, we’ll speak nay more about this unfortunate…incident.”

  Marsali’s head swam with relief when her father nodded. His color remained high, but his breathing slowed, a good sign his sudden fury had ebbed.

  Gavan removed his arm from Murray’s throat. He stepped back, but his sharp gaze never left the older man.

  “Ye can leave on the morrow, or later,” Keenan continued in a reasonable tone, as if his brother and the Murray had not just come to blows. “Take some time to see for yerself how well Marsali has been accepted here. Then, if ye still want her to return home with ye, and if she wants to go, ye may leave in peace.”

  “And if she doesna wish to leave?” her father challenged, his gaze narrowed first at her, then at Gavan.

  “That will be between the two of ye.” Keenan glanced aside as Gavan cleared his throat, then continued, “So long as ye dinna physically force her.” With another glance at Gavan, he continued, “If ye think a moment, ye might see the wisdom in allowing her the freedom of a longer visit, especially if patience gives ye a result ye wish for. We, too, can see her safely home.”

  Marsali nodded, but mostly, she wanted to drop her gaze to the floor, to hide her hopeful expression. Her stomach roiled. Would her father agree to stay? She glanced at the muscle jumping in Gavan’s jaw. Would he claim her?

  But he didn’t speak.

  Had Keenan somehow warned him to remain silent? Had the MacNabb berated him for bringing her—and this trouble—to their door? Perhaps he hoped her father would take her with him.

  When her father grunted his agreement, Keenan and Gavan escorted him away from her door. When Gavan glanced back at her, his gaze unreadable, Marsali’s hopes went with them.

  ***

  Two days later, Marsali stood in her father’s chamber at MacNabb, staring at him as if she’d never seen him before. Indeed, she’d never seen this side of him, not that she recalled. Scheming. Calculating. Even dishonest.

  “Ye ken I’m right, daughter. ’Tis the wisest course for Murray and for ye.”

  “Ye canna be serious. The MacNabb has shown ye every courtesy. He even took ye hunting yesterday. Ye’ve met the clan. Ye’ve spent time with the family. With Gavan. Now ye propose to hire me out to care for their hounds? And have the MacNabb pay ye?”

  “’Tis that, or I’ll take ye home.”

  “Da! I dinna ken which is worse, this, or marrying me off to a Campbell.”

  “Ye have that option, of course.”

  She stared at him, blindly, then raked her fingers through her hair and pulled. “Nay, I dinna.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “I couldna survive among them.”

  Her father cocked his head to one side, regarding her. “The MacNabb has seen yer worth with his hounds, lass. His lady loves what ye have done with their bairns. And their son has his eye on ye, though he’s yet to ask his father to approach me on his behalf. If ye stay without being wed, ye must be treated with the respect due a tradeswoman with a skill the clan needs, be she a weaver or a silversmith.”

  “What about the respect due me as yer daughter. I may not be the Murray heir, but I am the laird’s daughter.”

  “Or ye can come home, and we’ll see how long before the son comes after ye. If ye think he will.”

  She hated the challenge in his tone. Marsali crossed her arms and turned to gaze out the window. “I dinna ken if he will.”

  “How can ye no’?”

  “It’s…complicated, Da. He is complicated.”

  “Then I’ll make it simple. Ye will pack yer things. We’ll leave now.”

  A hopeless sadness wrapped Marsali like a shroud. If only her spell had worked. Then inspiration suddenly struck, and she whirled to face her father. “No’ before the handfasting tonight! Groa and the Lathan leave tomorrow. Besides, the handfasting might put Gavan in mind of having another performed…” She prayed the idea would sway her father. And that she spoke truth. Weddings certainly had that effect on girls and women. And some men. She hoped Gavan might be one of them. “We could leave the morning after if he doesna speak for me by then.”

  Her father nodded, considering her words. “Verra well. We’ll do that. If he hasna spoken for ye by tomorrow next, we’ll go. I willna waste ye where ye are no’ wanted.”

  Marsali smiled at her victory. “Then we’d best get ready for the evening meal. Groa’s handfasting is to take place afterward.”

  “Have ye something suitable to wear?”

  “Aye, thanks to Groa, I do. Dinna fash. I’ll see ye there.”

  Marsali breathed a sigh of relief as she left her father’s chamber. She’d bought a little more time to let things develop between her and Gavan. To let her spell work, if it ever would.

  She ruffled the hair on Corrie’s face when she entered her chamber. “Let’s see if the handfasting puts any ideas into his head, aye?”

  Dinner went on forever. And damn it, the MacNabb seated the wedding party—his entire family plus Rory Lathan—with him at the high table, which left Marsali and her father seated off on one end. She had no opportunity to speak to Gavan during the meal, nor during the ceremony. He and his brothers stood by on either side as the MacNabb bound Groa’s and Rory Lathan’s wrists together with a length of the Lathan plaid. The speech he made was pretty enough, but Marsali chafed during the entire thing. Gavan’s gaze had fallen on her several times during the meal w
ith what she hoped was longing for her company, but during the ceremony, he focused on his sister and his parents. His mother, of course, cried through the ceremony, then hugged her daughter and turned to her husband for comfort. Gavan and his brothers clustered together, backing away as Groa and her new husband raised their bound hands as a sign to begin the celebration.

  Then the music started. This was an improvement, Marsali thought, as MacNabbs hastily cleared the floor of tables and benches. The newly married couple moved to the cleared space and began a simple dance. After a few bars of a country tune, Laird and Lady MacNabb joined them, then Keenan and Fenella. Marsali’s spirits lifted even more. So they had finally decided to be a couple.

  She hoped Gavan would come for her. Instead, her father offered his arm. Of course. Protocol would demand he dance with other MacNabb daughters, but lacking those, he chose her. Marsali stifled her disappointment, determined to enjoy his attention. He gave it so rarely. Afterward, she’d be free to dance with anyone who asked her, aye?

  “The MacNabb told me again, he’s quite impressed with the work ye have done with his hunting hounds,” her father said. “Ye can still choose to stay here, for a while. If ye behave yerself, ’twill only increase yer bride price.”

  “I dinna wish to discuss this now. Or here. Really, Da. Can we just enjoy the celebration?”

  “Aye,” he told her as the dance ended and Stewart approached to lead her into another dance, “just no’ too well.” He tipped his head and left her.

  She turned in time to see Gavan point Stewart toward another lass. Then he took her hand and sketched a bow.

  “Would ye dance with me, lovely lass?”

  Marsali’s heart swelled with joy. “I thought ye would never ask.”

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Marsali stood with Gavan, watching as his sister Groa and brother Donal prepared to leave. Something had changed between them while they danced the night before. Gavan had monopolized her the rest of the evening, relinquishing her only long enough for her to dance with a few of his cousins who’d braved his scowl to ask her. He’d staked his claim on her, or so it seemed. Perhaps today he’d speak to his father. And hers.

  Her father stood behind the MacNabb, lending the Murray presence to the solemnity of the leave-taking. The other MacNabb siblings stood in a group on the other side of their parents, Keenan hand-in-hand with Fenella, Keenan’s daughter in his other arm. Groa beamed tearfully at the lad by her side, her new handfasted husband, Rory Lathan.

  The evening before had been a joyous occasion, one the MacNabb had required before allowing Groa, even with her younger brother’s escort, to travel without him to the Lathan’s Aerie. Donal, Marsali had been told, would advance his weapons training at Lathan, while seeing his sister well cared for. She wasn’t sure what a lad in his middle teens could do to protect his older sister, should such be called for, but she supposed he could ride back to MacNabb for help.

  Their parents seemed to take the departures in stride—their composure belied only by the glimmer of a wistful tear in their mother’s eye as she’d gone about her duties that morning. Perhaps they’d had time to adjust to the idea of Groa’s marriage out of the clan and Donal’s absence. Or perhaps their sudden decision to follow in a few days to be present for the kirking kept most of the tears at bay.

  Gavan left Marsali’s side to hug his sister goodbye, shake her husband’s hand, and clasp his brother’s shoulder. He talked to Donal for a few minutes, making Marsali wonder what he told him. Some brotherly advice, no doubt. “Do what the Lathan tells ye and dinna get into trouble,” or words to that effect. The thought made her smile, yet made her sad at the same time.

  She glanced at her father, standing stoically behind the MacNabb. What was he thinking as he watched this scene? She’d left Murray suddenly, without the sort of leave-taking that gave a family the chance to express its devotion to the one departing. She wanted to think she would have received the like, had she given them the chance. But she hadn’t counted on such consideration before and had no reason to start now. Her father cared only about her value to the clan. He had tried to marry her off once before. She remembered how upset he’d been at the news of her betrothed’s death in a hunting accident. He’d followed her to MacNabb, determined to see her married or returned to Murray. She frowned. If his scheming here failed, he’d probably send her to a convent.

  After a nod to the rest of the Lathan escort, Gavan returned to her, but not before she noticed the mistiness in his eyes. He would miss his siblings. She was glad he’d returned home in time to spend a few days with them before they left.

  “Ye’ll see them again,” she told him, softly, fighting the urge to gather him into her arms. “Surely Lathan isna so far away for a man as well-traveled as ye.”

  That earned her a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes, but let a tear escape.

  He wiped away the wetness and nodded. “Ye have the right of it.” After a pause, he continued. “Ye must miss yers, as well.”

  Marsali snorted. “Perhaps after two years, I might.”

  Gavan nodded toward the wedding party. “Do ye wish ye were going with them? ’Tis another new place, another new clan.”

  She regarded them for a moment, considering whether his attention last night made her brave enough to say what she really thought. She decided to risk it. “If ye were going, I would, aye.”

  He shook his head. “But I canna. Father wants me to take over as master of the hunt, now the responsibility has gotten to be too much for auld Lachlan. They’re both impressed with the work ye have done with the hounds. I suspect Father hopes yer skill has rubbed off on me. Truly, I think he’s tired of me being gone and wants to tie me down with responsibilities.”

  She glanced at the MacNabb and caught him watching her and Gavan. Did he hope that responsibility would make a marriage with his son even more attractive to her? “Ye canna blame him. Surely, he and yer mother have missed ye these last two years.”

  “Aye, they have. And it is...good...to be home.”

  His admission warmed her. “Well, then, enjoy being here, aye? Ye can visit Lathan later. Though I am sorry we willna go with them. It would have been grand to see the Aerie, up on its high tor. Rory’s description last evening made it sound very dramatic. What a view they must have of the countryside around them!”

  “Ye could go.”

  The words, spoken casually enough, stabbed her like an icicle to the chest, freezing her breath. She fought to keep her expression a smooth mask. “Are ye trying to get rid of me?”

  “Nay.” He squeezed her hand. “But if adventure is what ye want,” he said and gestured toward the horses, “it awaits ye there.”

  Marsali’s glance strayed to her father, then back to Gavan. She couldn’t say the words, though she needed to. I willna leave ye unless ye want me to, and I pray ye dinna. Aye, she wanted adventure, but more, she wanted him. “My father would never permit it. Besides, Corrie willna leave ye, ye ken,” she finally answered with a nonchalant shrug. “And I willna leave her. So there ye have it. Ye are stuck with me.” The lift at the corners of his mouth reassured her.

  “I believe I can tolerate that. I’ve come to…well…”

  Marsali waited, heart pounding, for him to finish the sentence.

  Instead, he hesitated several moments before speaking. “Since ye willna...canna...go to Lathan,” he said, with a glance at her father, “would ye like me to show ye around MacNabb countryside?”

  What had he started to say? Marsali’s fists clenched. Couldn’t one of them admit they cared for the other? But nay. Like her, he refused to betray his feelings. She opened her hands and forced enthusiasm into her voice. “Ye ken I would. When?”

  “After they leave,” he said, “and things settle down a bit. Mother will spend the day crying. Father will grump and growl. My brothers will be fine. But I darena leave the keep too soon lest they think I’ve taken off again. As soon as I can, I’ll take ye to t
he loch. ’Tis no’ so far.”

  “I’d like that. But first, do what ye must for yer parents.”

  As Gavan’s sister and brother rode out of the gates to the cheers and wails of their loving family and friends, Marsali’s chest tightened, squeezing the heart inside her. Oh, to be part of a clan like this, one that cared so strongly for its members.

  ***

  The clan settled down faster than Gavan expected. His mother kept the maids busy, cleaning up after the celebration the night before. The two lairds had closeted themselves in his father’s solar, where, Gavan was certain, they’d share whisky and schemes. About Marsali and him? His father seemed to approve of her, despite the circumstances under which she’d arrived. His mother, too. He realized neither they nor her father had objected to her presence at his side this morning.

  Suddenly certain their parents would not stand in their way, Gavan felt free to do as he wished. And what he wished was to spend time with Marsali—alone.

  After the scene in the garden when she’d taught a song to the bairns, and then watching her respond to his cousins’ flirting, he realized there was more to this lass than he’d first been aware. Dancing with her had only whetted his appetite. He needed to spend time with her away from others’ eyes and ears.

  Her sensitivity to his emotions this morning made his need more urgent.

  He waited an hour to be sure their absence would not cause concern, then visited Marsali’s chamber. “If ye like,” he told her when she opened her door, “we can go now.” At her puzzled frown, he added, “I’ll take ye down to the loch. Corrie can run freely there.”

  Recollection brightened her eyes as Corrie pushed past her to lick his hand and sit by his feet with a thump.

  “Of course. Now?” Marsali looked from Gavan to Corrie and back again, then chuckled. “Apparently, we’d love to!”

  Gavan grinned, pleased by her response, and scratched behind Corrie’s ears. The hound’s big head swayed into his hand. “I’ll get some food from Cook while ye fetch a cloak. Meet me in the great hall as soon as ye are ready.”