Highland Savior: A Medieval Scottish Highlander Historical Romance Book

by Alisa Adams

  Hugh was shocked for a moment, then shook his head vigorously.

  "Connor is an honorable man. He deserves to know."

  She sighed sadly, and pulled away from him, nodding.

  "Oui, yes," her voice was very low, and a tear slipped from her eye and slid down her cheek. "But is a secret meeting honorable? Are we not both being dishonest? Connor does not love me, but I knew that. I do not love him either. He loves your daughter, and I can see it in his face and hear it in his voice every time he talks of her."

  Hugh was still for a moment, then he gently pushed her away.

  "I am sorry," his voice was trembling, "but I cannot do such a dishonorable thing to Connor. We were only going to talk, not make love," he stood up and poured her wine. She took it, sipped it and began to sob quietly.

  "Why are you marrying him if you cannot bear him children?" Hugh asked desperately, spreading his hands.

  "My family is facing ruin and starvation," she replied heavily, "Juliette's husband lost all his money through some bad investments. My father invested in the same ones and was also ruined, so we are penniless" she stopped to wipe her eyes, "it is difficult for Juliette to marry again with her children, but I am still able to. I need to wed a man who can help me to support my family. I know it is dishonorable - but one cannot eat honor!"

  Hugh stood looking down at her for a long time. She was still weeping quietly. He went to the window and drained his glass of wine, then poured himself another and emptied that too. He felt desperately sorry for her - yet he had accused her of being traitorous.

  33

  Making Love

  "I am sorry that such a thing has happened to you," he said, his expression soft with sadness as he looked down at her.

  "I am sorrier for my nephews," she said hoarsely, "and I will do whatever it takes to make their lives happy."

  "At the expense of your own?"

  "Oui. Yes," she said heavily, "I love them very much. I will never have children, so they are all I have."

  "You are a brave and selfless woman, Monique," he whispered. Once more, he was close to her, and he could see the teardrops still glistening on her lashes, "you would sacrifice yourself to a man you do not love for their safety and welfare," suddenly a wave of fierce anger swept over him. "To hell with honor!" he growled, "we both need love now."

  * * *

  He carried her along the hallway to the nearest bedroom. It was a tiny place, a maid's room, and it had only a narrow bed. He laid her on it tenderly, but there was nothing tender about what they did next.

  He laid her down on the bed and looked into her eyes for a long moment. She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him with a desperation born of hunger, then arched her body up to meet his, feeling his manhood aroused against her stomach. He cupped his hands around her breasts and kissed them hungrily, almost like a baby suckling his mother.

  Please, Hugh -" she whispered desperately.

  "Please what?" He growled. She gave him no answer, but wrapped her thighs around his hips, and they came together in a frenzy of need. Their passionate cries echoed around the room as they both reached fulfilment, then they lay, wrapped in each others' arms, till the afterglow faded. Hugh laughed softly.

  "What is so funny?" she asked, leaning on one elbow to look at him.

  "Nothing," he replied, stroking her hair, "nothing at all. Do I have to have a reason to laugh or can I not just laugh because I am very, very happy?"

  "And why are you happy?" she asked archly, knowing the answer.

  "You make me happy," he murmured. He was about to say something else but she was kissing him, and then it all began again, tenderly and lovingly this time. Hugh thought he had landed in heaven. Afterward, they had one more warm and loving embrace, then reluctantly got up and dressed.

  Hugh wrapped his arms around Monique once more, laying his cheek on her hair. She fitted perfectly against him, her head tucking just underneath his chin, her cheek right next to his heart which was beating fast now in response to her nearness. She closed her eyes. She could have stood this way forever, but that was impossible. She had been honest with him and told him that she was infertile. Even if she called off her marriage to Connor now she could not beg him to wed a woman who could not give him children. In her heart, she knew that was what he wanted most. Besides, this was the first and last time they would ever make love, and she would treasure and relive every moment of it for as long as she lived because it would never happen again.

  * * *

  Presently she sighed and pulled out of his embrace, then tilted her face up for one last kiss.

  "May I visit you again?" She begged, "just to talk."

  "That is what we both said this time," he pointed out, frowning. "It should not happen again, my sweet. Bring your sister with you next time so that we will not be tempted, for I cannot betray Connor any more than I have already. But I know one thing."

  "What?" she asked huskily, looking worried.

  "After today, I love you more than ever," he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

  Monique breathed in the yeasty manly aroma of his body one more time. Some men wore cologne, but she preferred the natural smell of skin and sweat, the essence of him, Hugh. She kissed him passionately one more time then she was gone.

  When Monique got back she found Juliette alone in the big sitting room, attending to her needlepoint. She knew the truth about Hugh and had implored her not to go, but Monique had been driven by some force inside her that she could not contain, an animal instinct that drove her towards him relentlessly. Did she regret what she had done? Not for a second. Would she do it again? Absolutely. She knew that she would never be able to leave him alone again - somehow he would always be in her life. And Connor? She would have to go through with the marriage but she would never tell him her secret. God would be to blame for their lack of a child. It would be His will. She put her hat down on a chair and kissed her sister. Juliette looked up at her shrewdly, a question in her eyes. Monique nodded and Juliette shook her head.

  "Mon dieu, my god - you are mad!" she said vehemently, "what if Connor finds out?"

  "Only you and I know," Monique replied, "are you going to tell Connor?"

  Juliette looked angry for a moment, then her shoulders slumped.

  "Of course not," she replied, "we need this marriage."

  Monique sat down.

  "Oh, Juliette - I wish I could marry him. I told him about the baby - I had to."

  "Why did you have to?"

  Monique shrugged.

  "I don't know," she replied, puzzled at her own reactions. "I am marrying Connor but I do not love him, and Hugh is my lover but I cannot marry him, so it does not matter whether I tell him or not."

  She was crying silently. Monique got up to embrace her sister.

  "You should not have become lovers," she said fondly, "it complicates everything."

  "I know - but it was glorious, Juliette!" she said joyfully, and they both laughed.

  "Look at you!" Juliette reprimanded her, wiping her face. "one moment you are laughing, the next crying. Go and get changed out of your riding habit. You cannot wear that thing all day. Go!"

  Monique had dismissed her maid, so when she went into her bedroom she was all alone. She took off her riding habit and lay on the bed, not meaning to sleep, rather think, but after a while, she slipped into a light doze, and all she dreamed about was Hugh.

  * * *

  When Connor came home he found his future sister-in-law sitting in the smallest of the reception rooms with her sons playing marbles at her feet.

  "Good afternoon, Juliette, how are you?" he asked pleasantly as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

  "I am as you see me, Connor," she answered, smiling, "always well."

  "Good! Would you like a drink?"

  "Sherry, please." She nodded her thanks as he gave it to her.

  "Have you seen my fiancée, by any chance?" he asked.

  "I think y
ou will find that Monique is sleeping," she replied, "she took a fancy to go riding this morning, and the fresh air always tires her out. I imagine she also walked along the shore of the loch for a long way. She likes to do that. She may also have gone to see a horse of Laird Hugh's, but I am not too certain about that."

  "I see," he took a sip of his drink, "I am glad she is getting some fresh air and exercise. It will be good for her to be fit when she begins to bear children. It is not an easy time for a woman."

  "Thank God you will never know, Connor!" Juliette laughed. He joined in, just as Monique entered the room. She was dressed, but still looked flushed and tousled from her nap. Connor thought she looked even more beautiful than usual, but he was annoyed that she had entered the room while still so untidily dressed. What if there had been guests here? He would have been extremely annoyed.

  "Monique," he said going forward to clasp her hand, then kiss her on the cheek, 'You should not come in looking so - disheveled! We might have guests and I would have been - " Monique did not know the word, but she knew the tone and resented it. Her face clouded

  over.

  "Embarrassed? Do not speak to me thus, Connor," she said angrily, "I am not a child, and I am not yet your wife!" She was bargaining from a position of weakness, and she knew it, for she could ill afford to lose Connor, but she would not let him humiliate her. However, at this point she had nothing and no-one to fall back on and he knew it.

  Connor stepped up very close to her, and Monique saw Juliette leaving the room tactfully with the two boys. They did not need to hear two grown adults quarrelling this way.

  * * *

  "Have a care, Mademoiselle," he said, his voice low and menacing. "as you pointed out, you are not yet my wife and you have far more to lose than I have," he stood looking down at her, eyes fixed on hers.

  "My apologies, My Laird," she did not sound the slightest bit sorry, "I will go at once to tidy myself up." She curtsied to him and left the room, leaving Connor to wonder if perhaps there was more to Monique than met the eye.

  34

  Laughing and Crying

  As he woke up the next morning Logan rubbed his eyes, yawned, and thought of the rude awakening of the day before, then laughed. Rosina had a wonderful if childish sense of humor sometimes. He felt like getting up and begging her to come in and wake him again with tickling and kisses. Then he remembered that he had to speak to Annie this morning. He wondered if he should unburden himself to her, after all, he had been carrying his secret around all these years and it had blighted his life. But Rosina had a secret too, and it was not blighting hers, or at least he didn't think so. He looked out of the window and there she was, running around the stable yard,

  her light brown hair blowing like a banner in the wind, laughing at something Annie had said. Presently, Annie caught sight of him and waved. He ducked back into the room and then peeped out again to see the two of them in fits of laughter, pointing at his window.

  "Hey, Laird!" Annie shouted, "get up afore we get ye up!"

  "And we might do something you'll regret!" Rosina could hardly speak for laughing, "there are other bits of you we can tickle, you know!"

  Logan grinned. She was completely, maddeningly wonderful.

  * * *

  "Rosina, Rosina," he said to himself as he washed, imagining a Minister joining them in holy wedlock. Presently he heard Rosina's voice outside the door.

  "Laird Fraser!" she cried, "are you awake or must I tickle something else?" There was the sound of feminine giggling just outside the door. He was half-dressed, but decently covered, so he tiptoed to the door, counted to three, then wrenched it open and let out a full-throated roar. Rosina and Maisie fell backward in fright, both of them landing with their backsides on the floor gazing up at him with identical, comical expressions of surprise. He began to laugh as he helped them both up and they joined in till they were all breathless, their stomachs were sore, and crying tears of mirth.

  "My god," Rosina said, at last, wiping her eyes, "I have never heard a noise like that in my life!"

  * * *

  Logan's face was once more settling into its usual neutral expression, but Rosina would not allow it.

  "I am the Laird of this house," she said pompously, "and I make the rules. And the first rule is - no sad faces!" She looked at Maisie, "Maisie, please leave us. I may have to hurt him and it will not be pretty!"

  Maisie smiled and obediently disappeared down the stairs, wondering what her mistress was going to do to Logan. Logan was doing the same thing as Rosina backed him against the wall.

  "Rosina, what are you doing?" he asked, unable to stop the note of fondness in his voice.

  "Shut up, Logan," she whispered, putting a forefinger over his lips. Then she clamped her mouth over hers, kissing him hungrily and imprisoning him with both arms wrapped tightly around his waist. His first impulse was to push her away, but it seemed that she was stuck to him, and even if he had really wanted to he would not have been able to unless he hurt her. He strained her body to his till they were almost breathless, and when it was over he rested his forehead on hers for a moment and smiled obligingly.

  * * *

  "You have got to marry me, Logan," she whispered, "you know who you are up against, don't you?"

  He sighed and shook his head.

  "I do," he answered, "the most stubborn woman God ever created."

  "Yes, exactly the same woman," she said smugly.

  "Then you have met your match, Rosina, for I am the most stubborn man." He pushed her away gently and went downstairs. Rosina felt like banging her head against the wall. Maybe he did not find her attractive and did not wish to tell her so. She sighed loudly, stretched and went downstairs. Shortly after that Logan came in and began eating enough oats porridge to feed a small army. Annie looked at her shrewdly and she tried to appear nonchalant but it was clear that she was upset. Annie set a bowl of porridge in front of her, but she and Logan were alone, and it was a very quiet meal. Rosina took her tea upstairs and informed Maisie that they were going out riding, but Maisie had already laid out her riding habit. Over the years she had come to know that her mistress always found fresh air and exercise a good balm for whatever ailed her.

  "Maisie - what's wrong with that man?" Rosina asked plaintively.

  Maisie met her gaze in the mirror.

  "Mistress, you are pushing too hard," she replied as she plaited Rosina's shining ginger-red hair. "You have to give him room to breathe and time to think. And men like to be the hunters, not the prey!"

  "But he's had plenty of time!" Rosina thumped her fist on the dressing table so hard that all the bottles and jars on its surface rattled, and Maisie jumped, "maybe if he stopped feeling so sorry for himself -"

  "Mistress, if you will pardon my frankness, I think it is you who are feeling sorry for yourself," Maisie said sternly, "whatever happened in the past, it has scarred Logan very deeply, and you must understand that. You know how badly it hurts when your heart is shattered because it has happened to you too. We do not know his circumstances but have pity on him, Mistress. He has such a low opinion of himself - maybe you should help him to get his confidence back, but it will not help if he runs away every time he sees you!"

  * * *

  Rosina looked angry enough to kill for a moment, then she put her hand over Maisie's on her shoulder and smiled at her fondly.

  "You know, Maisie, if I did not love you so much, I would dismiss you on the spot!"

  "Yes, Mistress, but I know there is no danger of that because we could not live without each other!"

  * * *

  As they went out they passed Logan and went left after bidding him a cheery farewell. He was toying with his food, thinking about what had just happened when Annie came in and sat beside him, taking his hand. For once, he did not pull it away but waited for her to speak.

  * * *

  "Logan," her voice was very soft, "look at me."

  He looked up into a pair of green ey
es as dazzlingly bright as his own blue ones. For a long moment they gazed at each other then she said:

  "Can ye tell me aboot it?"

  "About what?" He knew exactly what she was asking but chose to pretend otherwise. Why was everyone so interested in his business all of a sudden?

  "Your darkness," she whispered, "the darkness ye tried tae leave behind ye but never could. It is there where yer heart is. It stops the light of joy gettin' in, an' ye knaw who carries the light o' joy?"

  He nodded slowly.

  "Rosina," he said heavily.

  "Aye," she answered, "I have knawn that wee lassie since she wis a bairn, an' she has always been happy and bonnie. You knaw that I have the Sight?"

  "Yes," he pushed his fingers back through his blue-black hair, a gesture he always made under stress.

  "I can see right into her heart, an' she loves ye beyond life," she sighed, "maybe she likes lost causes."

  Logan stiffened.

  "Where did you hear that?" he demanded, "how did you know I said

  that to her?"

  "I didnae'," she replied calmly, "it jist came tae me. Sometimes things dae that."

  Logan looked down at her hand still resting on his, then he clasped it in both of his own.

  "I am going to tell you something very strange," he said softly, "I have not felt safe in a very long time. I have been running from my past, but it always catches up with me," he looked up, "but I feel safe with you. Maybe you can help me."

  Annie reached out and touched his face gently.

  "I will try," she said, smiling, "although this gift o' mine comes an' goes at its ain pleasure. But ye must let me in an' no' fight me."

  "I want to love Rosina," he whispered, "I do love her and I have since the first moment I saw her, but my 'darkness' as you call it, gets in the way. Every time I look at her I want to wrap my arms around her and hold her close to me forever, but I cannot. She is too good for me."