Highlander Ever After

by Jennifer Ashley

  Ivan might be Nvengarian and a fanatic, but he understood when he was up against a more formidable man than himself, not to mention a sword point. Add to that Egan’s family and friends and Zarabeth’s father, all large men with weapons, all surrounding him and his brother.

  Egan stared Ivan down. Constanz was in tears.

  “We only meant to help the princess,” Constanz bleated. “I knew it was wrong.”

  Ivan glared at him. “You are weak.”

  “No, I am loyal to the princess.”

  Ivan realized his brother was against him as well. He did not have a strong enough personality to stand against Egan, and finally bowed his head. “I will do as you say. Spare my brother—he did what I ordered him to do. You may take my life afterward, and know that I gave it for the good of Zarabeth of Nvengaria.”

  Egan silently exhaled, his gaze connecting with Zarabeth’s, where she stood outside the circle of men. The last thing he needed was Nvengarian melodrama, so he said quickly, “Never mind that. Just tell me who the bloody man is and where I’ll find him.”

  He sensed Zarabeth tensing, felt her rage. She was strong and brave, and though he wanted to protect her more than anything, she was no wilting flower. They had a few things to talk about, but right now Egan needed to put an end to this opera.

  He leaned to Ivan, making his voice menacing and low. “Tell me, lad. I’m running out of patience.”

  Ivan swallowed. “His name is Baron Neville.”

  Zarabeth gasped, and Egan jerked his attention to her. She’d gone deathly pale, her blue eyes glittering like sapphires.

  “Who the devil is Neville?” Egan demanded, then stopped. “I feel stupid even saying that.”

  “My husband’s secretary.” Zarabeth’s lips were gray. “He was his most trusted aide and advisor.”

  Egan felt the ancient MacDonald rage once more welling up inside him. “And this Neville is dangerous?”

  “Yes.” Color began to surge back into Zarabeth’s face. “He was more of a fanatic than Sebastian about saving Nvengaria from corrupt leaders. He was happy to be cruel to me—if he plans to put me on the throne it would be to control me as Sebastian did. He learned from Sebastian exactly how to do that.” She gave Egan a grim look. “Or at least, he’d try. Shall we find him and inform him just how dangerous Highlanders can be?”

  Hamish bellowed with laughter. “I like your bride, Egan. Aye, lass, we’ll give him the thrashing of his life. Are ye with me, lads?”

  “Aye!” the Highlanders shouted, holding up fists.

  In the ensuing noise, Egan lowered the sword and had his men surround Ivan and Constanz.

  He determined then and there that he never wanted to see Zarabeth looking that terrified again, not if he had to lock her in Castle MacDonald and never let her out.

  * * *

  Zarabeth insisted on accompanying them to Ullapool. “I want to,” she said, when Egan, predictably, argued. “Baron Neville used to steal my correspondence and carried out Sebastian’s punishments for me. I want to look him in the eye and let him know that Sebastian didn’t break me.”

  Egan eventually gave in—mostly, she knew, because he did not yet want Zarabeth out of his sight. Valentin rode with them and so did Adam and Piers Ross, Hamish and Angus. Jamie demanded that Egan take the sword of Ian MacDonald again.

  “Ye must have it, Uncle,” Jamie retorted when Egan growled at him. “Ye must carry it until Zarabeth is completely safe.”

  To her surprise, Egan didn’t argue with him, but strapped the sword to his saddle.

  Ivan and Constanz had been instructed to meet Baron Neville at Ullapool in the very tavern in which Egan had waited for Zarabeth’s arrival months ago.

  Valentin was angry. His logosh body had healed, more or less, his flesh mending more quickly than an ordinary man’s would. Zarabeth wondered if he’d be able to control the beast inside him when he saw the villain responsible for his injuries.

  When they reached Ullapool, Egan’s men and the Rosses surged apart, riding to cover the waterfront before they could be seen from the tavern. The whitewashed building opened right into the street, and Egan sent Ivan and Constanz inside while he and Valentin waited on either side of the door.

  Zarabeth entered behind the two footmen, her heart beating swiftly, but she tried to remain cool and collected. In his thick English Ivan asked the landlord if a foreign gentleman waited for them.

  The landlord peered at him. “Oh aye. He’s in th’ parlor, and a strange-looking man he is. All in blue and covered with medals. Never seen anything like him.”

  He described a Nvengarian all right. Zarabeth’s pulse sped. Ivan took a deep breath, marched toward the door the landlord indicated, tapped twice, and opened it.

  Ivan entered without waiting for an answer, followed closely by Constanz. As planned, Zarabeth was on his heels, with Egan hulking right behind her, Valentin bringing up the rear. Egan had the sword of Ian MacDonald in his hand, ready for battle.

  The Nvengarian man inside the room rose from a chair behind a narrow table. He was tall, with a hard face and ice-cold blue eyes. He wore black boots muddy from the damp outside but the boots were beautifully made, the best money could buy. Several rows of medals hung from his chest, as though he’d brought out every single one to terrify anyone he encountered. A gold and blue sash slashed from his right shoulder to the opposite hip, and a ruby stud glittered in his earlobe, matching a ring on his finger.

  The man’s gaze raked Zarabeth and then Egan, and without changing expression, he looked at Ivan.

  Ivan screamed. Constanz gasped and turned nearly green, then he clutched the nearest chair, half fainting.

  Ivan turned to run but was stopped by Egan and his sword. When the Nvengarian’s large hand landed on Ivan’s shoulder the young man stopped moving, like a dog who had been bested by his master.

  Zarabeth stared at the man in shock. “Alexander, what are you doing here?”

  Grand Duke Alexander, the second in command of Nvengaria, known in England as the Mad, Bad Duke, gazed down at her from his great height. He was a cold man, ruthless, and terrifying, although Zarabeth could see a sparkle in the back of his blue eyes that might be amusement.

  Egan answered her. “Damien thought the problem complex, so he sent Alexander to beat your enemies into submission.” He grinned. “Of course all Alexander has to do is give them that look, and they run away with their knees knocking.”

  Zarabeth stared at Egan, mouth dry. “You knew he was here.”

  “Damien wrote me he was coming. I had no idea until this moment that he’d actually arrived.”

  “What happened to Baron Neville?” Zarabeth demanded. Alexander’s gaze flicked behind her.

  Valentin had come in and halted at the sight of Alexander. He made a truncated bow. “Your Grace.”

  Alexander gave him a cool nod. “You have done well,” he said.

  Zarabeth balled her hands and approached Alexander. Her cousin Damien was far more charming, but she’d come to know Alexander in the brief time she’d stayed at the palace and learned that his cold demeanor hid a man of deep feeling. His wife, Meagan, a fun-loving young woman with brilliant red hair, had become Zarabeth’s friend.

  “Where is Baron Neville?” Zarabeth repeated. “I want to tell him what I think of him.”

  Alexander’s blue gaze was piercing. “I’ve already taken care of him.”

  Ivan and Constanz both cringed. Grand Duke Alexander had a frightening reputation as a man who “took care of things”—which usually meant quiet, swift, and violent justice. Damien wooed and charmed his subjects, but Alexander simply let his enemies know what would happen to them if they disobeyed him.

  Zarabeth decided to ask no more questions. Alexander could have killed the man or tied him up and put him on a ship ready to be sent back to Nvengaria, or dumped him on the Kind of England’s doorstep—he likely wouldn’t tell her which, and Zarabeth might never find out. She knew though, that the man would be
gone, out of her life, to trouble her no more. She could breathe again.

  A door opened on the far side of the room, and a woman with flame-red hair peered around the doorframe. “May I come out now?” she asked. “It is quite dull in here, Alexander, and I did want to see Egan and Zarabeth before you sent them away.”

  Zarabeth was already across the room, pulling Alexander’s wife, Meagan, into her embrace. Alexander’s grim look softened as he turned to the woman he loved.

  “My dear, I intended to begin the visit when our work was done.”

  Meagan faced him, her arm around Zarabeth. “Your work is done—you men simply enjoy posturing. Now that you’ve terrorized these lads, can we all have tea and enjoy ourselves? I haven’t had scones, real scones, in a very long time.” She waved at the man behind Egan. “Hello Valentin, how are you?”

  Alexander said dryly to Egan, “My wife believes in keeping to essentials.”

  Egan laughed, his rumbling baritone filling the room. “I believe we’re going to be henpecked husbands, Your Dukeness. But I can’t imagine anything better than my wife pecking me.”

  Alexander raised his brows, not as comfortable bantering about his married state as Egan was bantering about—well, anything.

  Zarabeth said to Meagan, “And they believe we believe they’ll listen to us.”

  “Oh, they do listen,” Meagan said. “When it is beneficial for them, and especially when it is time for bed.”

  Now it was Egan who blushed. Meagan had wholeheartedly embraced the Nvengarian enjoyment of lovemaking, and Egan was the only one in the room still uncomfortable with women who spoke unashamedly about it.

  Zarabeth winked at him. She would have to get Egan used to Nvengarian wives and their willingness to seduce their husbands as often as necessary. As she caught his sparkling gaze, she decided that instructing him would be quite satisfactory.

  Chapter 24

  The Sword of Ian MacDonald

  Upon returning to Castle MacDonald, Meagan whisked Zarabeth away for a good gossip, leaving Egan and Alexander to resolve things between them.

  Alexander was bloody close-mouthed as Egan took him to the Great Hall, but Egan did notice a change in him. The last time Egan had interacted with the man had been in London just after Alexander had married Meagan, when he’d still been a cold bastard.

  Now Alexander’s eyes had softened and his gaze followed Meagan whenever she was within his sight. Also he seemed more at ease and comfortable with himself, and Egan guessed he’d come to terms with his logosh nature.

  Like Valentin, Alexander was part logosh and had grown up human, learning of his shapeshifting abilities as an adult. Both men bore a slightly distracted look as though they were on edge, keeping control of the beasts inside them.

  Egan could tell, however, that Alexander had gained some mastery of himself, mostly because Meagan was utterly unafraid of him. Their two children, Alexander’s son by his first marriage and the tiny daughter he’d had with Meagan, had accompanied them to Scotland. They’d tumbled around their father without the least worry, until they’d been taken upstairs in delight by “Aunt” Zarabeth, Meagan, Mary, and Gemma.

  “Your castle,” Alexander began, looking at the plaster dangling from the ceiling and the old weapons in the Great Hall.

  Egan braced himself for Alexander to decry his home. Alexander had been raised in utmost luxury and continued to wallow in it.

  “It is a fine place,” Alexander pronounced. “I envy you.”

  Egan raised his brows. “The great Grand Duke envies a simple Scottish laird like me?”

  “Yes, because this is a home.” Alexander leaned back in his chair as he took in the room, another indication he’d softened. Grand Duke Alexander always sat ramrod straight, never relaxing with his feet stretched out, his hands behind his head. “Generations have lived and died here,” Alexander went on. “I can feel the connections between them all the way to the bones of the castle. You have a family, the support of those who love you. I was always alone, until Meagan came into my life.” His voice wavered as he said this last—the barest amount, which he quickly controlled.

  “And it looks like she’s staying,” Egan said, plopping himself on a bench on the opposite side of the table.

  Alexander’s teeth flashed in a brief smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “And I want Zarabeth in my life.” Egan paused as Olaf joined them, nodding a greeting to Alexander. “I assume you’re prepared to escort her back to Nvengaria,” he continued to Alexander.

  “If she wishes to go,” Alexander said, sending Olaf an inquiring look.

  Olaf shook his head. “I believe Zarabeth wishes to stay here. I’ve been watching her, and she has never been so happy as I have seen her these past days.” He paused, emotion in his eyes. “Keep her safe for me, Egan, and bring her to visit whenever you can.”

  Egan’s throat tightened. “That will have to be up to her. She misses Nvengaria more than she lets on. I’ve not much more to offer her now than I did five years ago, though I suppose Adam is correct and that hot spring can generate some income.”

  Olaf sent him a wise look. “What you can offer her is a home and a family. She and I and her mother were very close, but her marriage destroyed her childhood illusions. She needs a real life, a real family—instead of burying herself at my estate remembering and regretting the past. You will let her go forward.”

  “Even so.” Egan swallowed, remembering how heartbreaking losing the thought-bond had been. Zarabeth had been upset by that—how upset he had yet to learn. They’d been waiting until the danger was over to speak of it.

  “The danger is over, isn’t it?” Egan asked Alexander. He looked the man in the eye, knowing Alexander would tell the truth, no matter how painful.

  Alexander gave him a wintry smile. “For now. Nvengarians are always plagued with assassins and plots—it is in our blood. But for now, the faction that followed Sebastian and the splinter group led by Baron Neville, who wanted to use Zarabeth as a figurehead, have been stopped. You and your Highlanders will have to remain vigilant as long as Zarabeth is with you, but for now …” His smile warmed and he waved his hand like a prince granting his subjects a boon. “Enjoy the peace.”

  “Peace,” Egan grunted. “’Tis unlikely, with a pack of Highlanders in my castle.”

  As if confirming his words, Jamie bounded into the room. “Uncle, ye haven’t broken the curse yet! All this chaos—assassins, kidnappers, wild wolves—will go away once ye break the curse.”

  Egan rose and caught Jamie by the scruff of the neck before the lad could whirl into Alexander’s chair. “We tried, nephew, remember? The sword wouldn’t break, and ye and Adam never found the rhyme we have t’ say.”

  Jamie looked glum. “True. Adam and I turned his house upside down. Adam said he’d keep looking.”

  “Nay, lad, Adam is now searching for proof he owns that hot spring or part of it. I wager he’s no longer interested in the curse.”

  Jamie glared, indignant. “Ye aren’t going to let him have it, are ye?”

  “Of course not,” Egan said. “But it might be good business if I share it with him. His family knows how to turn a penny into a pound.”

  “That’s as may be,” Jamie said. “But nothing will come of it, if ye don’t break the curse.”

  Egan gave up. “All right, lad. Let me fetch Zarabeth and the sword, and we’ll break your curse.”

  Alexander’s brows quirked. “This sounds interesting.”

  “Not really.” Egan heaved a sigh. “But I believe I know what to do now.”

  Jamie stared in surprise. “Ye do? But what about the rhyme?”

  “I have the feeling I know where it is,” Egan said. “Gather the family, lad, and we’ll finish this.”

  * * *

  Shut in Baron Valentin’s chamber, Mary wordlessly watched Valentin tuck his few belongings into a bag. He was leaving.

  “Why do you have to go?” She pressed fi
ngers to her lips as soon as the words came out, wondering why her heartbeat skipped and jumped so.

  “Zarabeth will be protected now,” Valentin said without turning around. “My task is done, and I must return to Nvengaria.”

  “Forever?”

  Valentin’s blue eyes flickered as he looked over his shoulder at her. “I belong there. It is my home.”

  “But you could visit. Zarabeth will want to see you again—she is grateful for what you’ve done for her.” Mary found herself babbling but couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Perhaps,” was his enigmatic answer.

  “Others will want to see you too. Egan and Jamie—Jamie finds you fascinating. Egan needs to rein him in before he destroys himself with his exuberance, and I know you could teach him a thing or two. Jamie grew up without a father, and even though he always had Hamish and Angus, it’s not quite the same …”

  Valentin was in front of her in the next moment, halting her words with his fingertips. It unnerved Mary how he could move from dead still to lightning speed in a heartbeat.

  “Mary.” He caressed her lips then kissed her briefly, his mouth firm and hot. “Come with me.”

  Mary’s eyes widened. Her safe, dull life, which had run like a longboat in a narrow canal since her husband’s death, all at once teetered on a chasm.

  “To Nvengaria?” she asked in a scratchy voice.

  “To my home. I have an estate near the mountains. Let me show it to you, the beauty of the valleys, the blue of the lakes, the meadows filled with colors you’ve never seen the like of.”

  Mary swallowed, throat tight. “But I have duties here, a son …”

  “Bring him along. You are no longer the lady of Castle MacDonald. Egan has married and Zarabeth will fill your place.”

  Mary felt a brief, illogical hurt that she could so easily be replaced. She’d done much for Egan and Castle MacDonald over the years … but Valentin was right. Angus had brought Gemma here, and Zarabeth would be lady of the manor now, and likely Hamish and even Dougal would marry soon, their wives would live in the castle as well.