No Other Woman (No Other Series)

by Shannon Drake

  "You're jumpy this morning, eh?"

  "Am I? Sorry?"

  "You needn't be sorry. Ah, cousin! The lady bountiful—you do it so well!" he teased. Though they were actually second cousins, since Gawain was her great-uncle, they had always referred to one another as cousin, as she did with his brother, Alaric. Aidan, likewise, was Lowell's son, and Lowell was her great-uncle as well, but in the Highlands, the word "cousin" could easily stretch several generations.

  He lowered his voice. "And you must have run like the wind down the steps to escape the castle and the walls before Father could stop you and offer his opinion on your generosity!"

  "I simply walked out," she lied. "None of you happened to be about."

  "How convenient! But I do believe you've done quite well."

  "We are responsible for these people's lives, you know," she reminded him primly. Looking about, she saw one of the very young children who worked the exceptionally narrow corridors of some of the tunnels. She knew that children were drastically overworked everywhere—in the big cities such as Glasgow, London, and even New York—but it still horrified her to realize that the very little ones went into dangerous places. She had fought her great-uncle tooth and nail on the matter of the children, and here, they were allowed to work no more than a few hours a day.

  The little lad she noted now was one of her favorites. Though he was one of the Andersons of Craig Rock, it was obvious that the boy had MacGinnis blood as well. He had the telltale ink black hair and blue eyes. More. He had the handsomely shaped eyebrows that distinguished her family members. In fact...

  She glanced sharply at Alistair, who had been known to seduce more than a few of the village maidens. There had been a rumor at one time that he, one of the gentry of the manor, had seduced the very pretty young Gena Anderson. Whatever had happened, much of it had taken place while Shawna had been away, and talk of it had ended.

  "Have you had more to do with the lives of some of these people than I might have previously imagined?" she demanded of Alistair.

  Alistair laughed, shaking his head, completely unashamed of whatever his sins might be. "Now, cousin, you go too far! Would you blame me, fair cousin, for the fact that too much inbreeding has occurred throughout the centuries in our secluded Helands, eh?"

  "Inbreeding, my—" she began.

  "Ach! Such language from the lady bountiful!"

  "M'lady!" Mark Menzies called. "Will ye come? The Reverend Massey will give a special prayer for the left shaft!"

  "Of course!" she called.

  Alaric, Alistair's older brother, was beside them then as well. "Menzies, I'm not sure Shawna should go into the mines!"

  "No, no!" Shawna insisted softly, squeezing Alaric's hand. "I must go; if it's not safe for me, then it's not safe for the men."

  "Shawna, there are differences here!" Alaric told her firmly. He was far more like his father than Alistair; very serious in all his endeavors, a big, gruff, Highlander. From the time they had been children, he had been serious. He was a handsome man, much like Alistair in appearance, but he lacked his younger brother's quick grin and easy style of living. Like her great-uncle Gawain, Alaric reminded her of a Highlander of old, a man who could easily be a savage warrior, painting his face, shrieking out a battle cry, and rushing into the fray with little but raw courage behind him. She smiled at the thought. Her cousins were so difficult. Alistair and Alaric, Gawain's sons, Alistair the charmer, Alaric the hulk. Alaric nearly ten years older than she was, Alistair just four. Then there was Aidan, Lowell's only child, a decade older than Shawna like Alaric, the very quiet and thoughtful one, steady as a rock. They, with her great-uncles, were her family, and she loved them all. She missed her father dearly. He had been somewhat of a cross between Alistair and Alaric, built like a warrior of old, gruff—and charming. Shawna didn't remember her mother, who had died before she was a year old, so these men were her closest kin. And now, Alaric was determined on being as protective as a father, speaking to her firmly. "You're Lady MacGinnis; these men are miners. These men know the mine, and you do not, little cousin."

  "I am Lady MacGinnis; I must go," she said firmly. She smiled, knowing he spoke from affection, but slipped by him quickly, escaping his reach before he could physically attempt to stop her.

  Entering the mine, she found herself wishing that she were elsewhere. The air was tight and stale. Even with lanterns, it was difficult to see. The walls were dark with coal dust. She knew that she would walk from the mine covered in dirt, almost as black as the little urchins who worked the mines when they crawled out from the narrow tunnels.

  Mark Menzies was there along with a few of the other miners. Shawna realized that Alistair had come with her as well. He would dare the mines, and the devil himself, she thought.

  Alistair. She longed to shake him. She wanted to shout that David Douglas was back, demanding vengeance for the fiasco that Alistair had created. But she couldn't cry out, and despite everything, she did care deeply about Alistair. Of all her kin, she loved him best. He had got her into plenty of trouble, but when she had been hurt, he had been there for her as well, all of her life. And though he remained a man quick to taunt and tease and charm, what had happened had changed him, irrevocably. He'd become extremely responsible, no matter what lightness he might portray.

  The Reverend Massey quickly began his benediction.

  He didn't pray long at all, and his words were very fast. She realized that he was as anxious as she was to leave this place where so many men spent grueling hours every day.

  "Amen!" she heard Massey say, then he was hurrying from the shaft. Menzies hurried after him. Shawna felt Alistair's hand at her back, urging her from the mine in the wake of the others.

  "Let's leave here, eh?"

  She hesitated, not quite ready. This was probably the best possible place to have a truly private conversation with him. She turned around to wag a finger beneath his nose. "If that adorable little Anderson child is actually yours, I want you taking full responsibility."

  "Oh, now you're going to preach to me! You, fair cousin, after what you did—"

  "What I did!" she gasped. "I should hit you in the jaw and blacken your eye!" she informed him. "What I did, I did for you!"

  "What you did, you did because David Douglas always attracted you like a moth to a flame and you thought that you were powerful enough to get what you wanted out of him without risking anything."

  She gasped, unable to admit his words were true.

  "Why, you ungrateful wretch!" she accused him.

  "Shawna, Shawna, I'm sorry, truly, I'm sorry, I had no right. It's just that you're so quick to jump on me. The lad isn't mine, so maybe you need to speak to our pious cousin Aidan—or my good serious brother, for that matter. Then again, half of Craig Rock is populated by Highlanders with blue MacGinnis eyes and black hair, while the other half seem to bear green Douglas eyes and auburn hair. Maybe we have a few variations of each, what do you think? Shawna, I am sorry, please do forgive me?"

  They were alone. Even their whispers echoed eerily, ft seemed that the mine shaft was closing in around Shawna. "You are, indeed, a sorry wretch, but I keep forgiving you, so I might as well do so again now."

  She started to turn away; he pulled her back. "Shawna," he said speaking quickly, "I was always grateful for what you did for me. And I swear, I have spent the time since that tragedy trying to make up for what I did. I keep the books meticulously. When Andrew Douglas arrives from America," he said somewhat bitterly, "he'll discover that his funds have been managed with more care than he would have given them himself. And I swear to you, I come into this mine often enough with the men. God's truth, Shawna."

  She studied his eyes, so like her own. She nodded. She realized that it was important that she not betray the fact that David Douglas lived. David needed to see how Alistair had changed.

  "I oversee the bookkeeping for both estates, Alistair. I know that you have been scrupulously honest."

  "P
enance," he said.

  "For me?"

  "For what happened to David." He hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I wasn't so upset that he might take out charges against me. I wanted to talk to him myself, because he was a friend."

  Startled, Shawna asked softly, "Why didn't you?"

  "You know Father. And MacGinnis honor."

  "God, Alistair, if I only knew what truly happened!" she exclaimed passionately.

  "It's all in the past," he said firmly.

  She found herself shivering. "Please, let's do get out of here now."

  They left the mine shaft together. Just outside of it, Gawain stood talking with Lowell, Aidan, and Alaric. The women had returned to their homes; the men were organizing for the day's work.

  "Shawna, we'll have a conference in the Castle Rock great hall," Gawain said firmly. "Now."

  "Aye, Uncle, we'll have a conference if that's what you wish," she said, but his autocratic way disturbed her.

  She was determined not to act like a child, or to let her great-uncle bend her to his will, as he had once done. "But you'll notice I'm covered with mine soot. We'll meet in the great hall in the early evening over supper; I'd like to bathe and attend to a few other business matters now."

  The mines were no more than a mile around the loch from Castle Rock, but it had seemed a long mile that morning and Shawna had ridden to the blessing. She hurried past Gawain then for her horse, not willing to give her great-uncle a chance to change her decision.

  Mounted, Shawna turned back.

  Her male kin were all assembled together. Gawain, Lowell, Aidan, Alaric, and Alistair. They stood tall in their Highland stances, legs slightly parted, backs very straight, shoulders squared, arms crossed over their chests. Together they were a handsome, powerful lot. Men in whom she could take great pride.

  For some strange reason, she shivered.

  She lifted a hand and waved.

  They waved in return.

  She turned her horse and rode hard for the castle.

  Chapter 6

  They were gathered around the long table in the great hall—Gawain at one end, Lowell at the other, Alistair and Alaric on one side of the table, Aidan on the other with a chair at his side that awaited her. They were, as she had thought earlier, an impressive group, all them tall, large, well-muscled men, no matter what their ages. Dark-haired, light-eyed, powerful men, sure of their purpose. Highlanders, a different breed.

  They rode like the wind, and could run over hills and valleys nearly as quickly as they could ride. No matter what befell the world around them, they often went their own way, bowing to authority only long enough for authority to go away. The Highlands were wild and rugged, and not for everyone, but equally, the Highlands had always been a place too difficult to tame, and the most stalwart of conquerors had often chosen to ignore them and their people rather than pay the price of trying to subdue them.

  MacGinnises were proud. A part of their land.

  And these fine, fierce men were her kin. Her protectors, as they saw it.

  Her rulers as well, or so Gawain seemed to assume, she thought wryly.

  Still, she assured herself, they all meant well. Every last one of them, no matter what the particular quirks of their individual personalities. She loved them and was proud of them.

  To a man, they stood courteously when she appeared.

  The table was set for supper and the food had been served. It was obvious that Gawain had given the order to Myer, who served as butler in the castle, and Anne-Marie, his head housekeeper, that they weren't to be disturbed during the meal.

  Dirty laundry was about to be aired, Shawna decided.

  But she couldn't hover at the foot of the stairway forever, and she wasn't afraid of facing Gawain. They argued frequently.

  But tonight...

  Tonight was different.

  David Douglas was alive.

  She walked quickly into the great hall, to the dining table.

  She smiled at Aidan as she hurried around to the chair that he had pulled from beneath the table so that she could slip into it.

  He smiled in return. Rather sternly.

  "You're late," Gawain said firmly.

  "Am I, Uncle? I'm so sorry. I'm afraid I don't remember having specified a time."

  He wagged a finger at her. "Shawna, you forget, I am your great-uncle. Your father's uncle. He entrusted your care to me. I will have your respect."

  "Will I have yours?"

  Aidan, with his quiet, calm sense of responsibility, cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could fight this family battle of wills at another time. We are all Clan MacGinnis here, and should respect one another."

  "Aidan is quite right," Lowell said firmly, offering a stern glance to both his brother and his great-niece. "Now, I was under the impression that we gathered tonight to plan for the arrival of Andrew, Laird Douglas?"

  "Shawna made some decisions today without thinking to ask our advice," Gawain said, watching her, still angry.

  "I didn't see you this morning before the blessing, and you knew last night that I had assured Mark Menzies I would have the Reverend down to the mines."

  "You might have let me know you were planning on giving the men time off. What I didn't know might have made a fine fool of me, girl."

  "I awoke late; I had no choice."

  "You had the choice to inform me."

  "I am sorry."

  "You will do so in the future."

  "I certainly did not seek to make you look foolish in any way."

  Lowell let out a crusty "Hmm! Shawna, you must remember that we are family; we work together. Back to the business at hand, for I've had a long day, would have a good supper, and get some sleep. We need to plan for the arrival of Andrew Douglas."

  "To plan?" Shawna said. "But, Uncle, what is there to plan? Andrew is Laird Douglas, and he's coming to see to his holdings!"

  "Andrew Douglas doesn't belong here," Lowell said firmly.

  Startled by the vehemence of his comment, Shawna stared at the younger of her two great-uncles. He smiled at her, shaking his head. Like Gawain, Lowell had kept a headful of hair that was barely peppered with gray, but his face was far more gauntly cast, and tonight he looked tired, both age and weariness visible in his countenance.

  " 'Tis true, lass," Lowell said, catching the surprise in her eyes, "that the American has no place here. He knows it as well."

  "But Douglas lands are his heritage," Shawna said. "Perhaps he wants them for his children."

  "Maybe," Alistair said cheerfully, winking at Shawna, "his new wife will be barren."

  "Maybe," Alaric mused dryly, "we should consider trying to buy the property from him."

  Alaric's statement was greeted with a moment's silence.

  "Buy the property..." Gawain repeated.

  "Now that," Aidan murmured, "is quite a concept. Truly, Andrew Douglas has no interests here. He's always made it quite clear that he belongs with the Sioux people. Alaric, buying the property is a sound idea."

  "Andrew Douglas does not belong here, that much is certain. Lowell is entirely right," Gawain said, as if they all agreed upon law. "And I agree as well. Buying the property would be an excellent idea." He shook his head, staring hard at Shawna as if all their difficulties were somehow her fault. "Primogeniture!" he exclaimed. "Ah, but the Normans introduced a great idea when they brought feudalism to England. Sons inherited. And when daughters were all that was left, the closest male kin inherited."

  "Andrew Douglas was Laird Douglas's closest living male kin when he died," Aidan reminded Gawain, who was still staring at Shawna.

  "This modem world will be the downfall of us, women inheriting the same as men," Gawain exclaimed.

  "We were never like the English, Uncle," Shawna reminded him. "And though Scotland became a part of Great Britain by the Act of Unity, we've always kept apart. The Conqueror never quite made it to the Highlands, as you'll recall, and even Scottish Lowlanders think us a breed apart. Women ha
ve been the heads of many great Highland families in the past."

  Gawain sniffed disdainfully. "Thank the Good Lord, lass, that you've the lot of us."

  "I love you all, Uncle Gawain," Shawna said sweetly, "and therefore, I do thank the Lord for you all."

  "Ah, but could you be saying that you have no need for your male kin, Shawna?"

  "I've never said that, Uncle Gawain."

  "But you fight me every step of the way; you forget you're a MacGinnis time and time again."

  A new wave of guilt washed over her. Was she forgetting she was a MacGinnis at this very moment? David Douglas was alive, and she wasn't saying a word about it. These men were her family.

  But someone had chased her, someone had tried to kill her.

  Not her family!

  Still, she couldn't speak about David.

  Not yet.

  Aidan cleared his throat. "Once again, perhaps this isn't the right time to argue primogeniture and the rights of men and women, or our arguments with one another."

  "Ach, women!" Lowell murmured, smiling as he shook his head.

  "After all, Queen Victoria is sitting upon the throne and poor Albert is but a prince!" Alistair provided.

  His father shot him a glance that was dagger sharp.

  "Then there was Good Queen Bess!" Alistair continued. "Good God, she ruled forever!"

  "And here," Aidan added dryly, "we had good Queen Mary, who nearly brought about the downfall of her people!"

  "Ah, but good Queen Mary of Scots produced the future King James I of England, whose blood even now runs through the veins of royalty!" Shawna pointed out. "Besides, Mary might not have had quite so many problems if not for all the men conspiring behind her back."

  Shawna was startled to feel a twinge of unease as she felt all her male kin staring at her.

  Did they all resent her? It seemed a pleasantly joking conversation, but was it? Gawain did seem aggravated that she had inherited the title of Lady MacGinnis and was traditional titular head of the family. He'd never hidden that fact, but it had always seemed more an annoyance to him than anything else.