A Highlander's Destiny (Digital Boxed Edition)

by Willa Blair

  “Sorcha’s daughter?” Andrew repeated incredulously, looking at once dumbfounded and hopeful. “Come here, lass, and let me look at you.”

  Abby obeyed, moving forward and kneeling at Andrew’s feet. He had a blanket draped over his lap in addition to the fur around his shoulders, and she was struck by how frail he was.

  “Hello…Grandfather.”

  He raised his hand to her face, gently running calloused fingers over her brow, cheeks, and jaw as though he were a blind man trying to “see” her features with his fingers.

  “Lass, how did you come to be here? Where is Sorcha?”

  “I…she’s…” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t look at this broken old man and tell him his daughter was dead. Tears welled in her eyes and she looked away from his piercing stare. A comforting hand came down on her shoulder.

  Abby turned, surprised to see that it was Ewan offering her comfort. She closed her eyes. “My parents are dead,” she whispered.

  “Dead? My Sorcha is dead?” Andrew’s eyes filled with tears. He blinked rapidly and looked down at his lap. When he looked up again after a few moments, his eyes were dry. With his hands braced on the arms of his chair, he pushed himself to his feet and clutched the fur around himself. Abby stood up and backed away, unsure of what to do next.

  “It’s been a long day, and I have much to think about. I will see you on the morrow.” He flicked his gaze to Abby, a small smile deepening the creases on either side of his mouth. “I’m glad you’ve come, lass. We’ll talk more after I’ve had some rest.”

  He started for the door, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs. A lad standing by the wall hurried forward to assist him, but Andrew brushed him off, snarling something in Gaelic that Abby assumed meant “Leave me be. I can walk on my own.”

  Rather unsteady on her own legs, Abby turned to Ewan, who was still standing behind her. “I’m going to find Ian.” Relieved he didn’t make any attempt to stop her, she brushed past him and made for the door.

  Alannah stepped forward from a shadowy spot along the back wall. “I’ll see you in a little while,” Abby murmured to her friend, only now realizing that Alannah hadn’t greeted her grandfather. She would find out later. Right now, she needed Ian to hold her.

  ****

  Ian sat under a tree in the paddock, eating bread and meat that Ewan had sent out to him. He chewed the food without tasting it, constantly looking toward the hall to see if Abby was approaching.

  “Where is she, Jack?” The horse raised his head and shook it, his long black mane falling in his eyes. He snorted and then returned to his grazing. “Yeah, I know. You’ve no idea, and at this particular moment, you don’t care.”

  “I should be in there with her, Jack. I know Ewan’s right, that springing a granddaughter on Andrew out of the blue is more than enough for one day, but still. Abby’s got too much on her hands. She shouldn’t have to face him alone.”

  Jack had no reply for that other than to whicker softly and continue munching grass.

  Ian jumped to his feet and began to pace. “What the hell is taking so long? It’s been hours since Ewan sent me out here!”

  His sudden outburst startled the horse, who looked up in alarm.

  “Easy, boy. All is well.” Ian spoke quietly, and the horse nickered softly and came toward him. He spent a few minutes scratching behind the horse’s ears and down the length of the ebony neck, the repetitive motion soothing him as well as the horse. The sudden tensing of muscle beneath his hand alerted him to a new presence, and he peered under Jack’s arched neck to see Abby striding toward him.

  He vaulted the fence and had her in his arms a moment later, barely sparing a glance at the two guards, who started to close in on them. She threw her arms around his waist and clung to him as though he were her anchor in a storm-tossed sea. He tucked her in close, his hand cupping the back of her head while she buried her face in his shoulder and trembled against him.

  He scooped her unresisting body into his arms and led her to a nearby tree, sinking down to the ground and pulling her onto his lap.

  “Talk to me, mo cridhe. What happened in there?”

  “Oh, Ian,” Abby began, burrowing against him, “God forgive me for lying to that man! You should have seen him. He’s a gaunt shell of a man; his face is so pale it’s almost colorless. But the moment he laid eyes on me, his whole face lit up. He called me ‘Sorcha’, and then Ewan told him I was her daughter.”

  She looked up at him then, her blue-gray eyes shimmering with tears. “Ian, I told him that my parents were…dead.” She flicked her gaze toward the guards and lowered her voice. “That broken old man thinks his daughter is dead. I took away his last hope for forgiveness by telling him that, and for all I know, she’s living in the next glen over, happily married with 10 children. Who does that kind of thing to a frail, elderly man?”

  She turned her face into his chest and began to cry softly, the sound of her muffled sobs tearing Ian’s heart out. It must have been terrible for her to tell Andrew Fraser that her parents were dead and relive her own grief. Damn it, he should have been there for her!

  “Shh, Abby,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Listen to me, lass. We’re in a time not our own, and we’re doin’ what we have to do to stay alive. Sorcha Fraser hasn’t returned in over thirty years. I think it’s a safe bet that she’s no longer alive—even if she was furious with her father, I’m sure she would have returned for her sister and her niece. I know it’s painful for you to lie, especially to such a man as Andrew Fraser.” He tipped her face up to his and stared into those shining eyes. “But you haven’t told me the rest.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you started to tell me how his face lit up when he saw you. Then you told me that you told him about your parents. But you didn’t tell me how he reacted to you.”

  “He looked as though someone had just handed him a sack of gold. He sat up straight in his chair, and I could swear that his face lost some of its pallor. But then he practically ran from the room, saying he would see me tomorrow. Oh, Ian, I felt awful!”

  “Abby, you’re missin’ one very important point.” She was so caught up in her regret and self-loathing that she didn’t get it.

  “What?”

  “You just told me that he sat up straight and got some color back in him, aye?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was your doing. You gave him a granddaughter he never knew he had, and whether you’re the daughter of his daughter, or the daughter of his daughter twenty generations removed, it doesn’t matter. He has a reason to go on now, to live just a wee bit longer so he can get to know you and redeem himself for the mistakes he made in the past. So instead of hatin’ yourself for lying to an old man, think of the good you’ve done.”

  “I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “I know you didn’t, but you have to look at the positive side of this, or else it will be unbearable for you.”

  Abby smiled at him through her tears. “Thank you, Ian. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here with me.”

  “Och, Abby, you’re strong and smart. You would be just fine. But I’m so glad to be here with you.”

  He pulled her close once more, loving the feel of her in his arms. He was so very grateful to whatever mystical force pulled Abby through the mists of time, for it had given them an opportunity to reconcile, which in all likelihood they would not have had in their own time.

  “Tha gaol agam ort, mo mhùirnìn. I love you, my darlin’,” he whispered against her ear. She looked up, her face radiant, her eyes full of love. His heart swelling with joy, he cupped her cheek in his hand and brought her lips to his.

  ****

  Abby returned to the cottage a short while later. Ian’s words had offered some measure of comfort, but she still felt unsettled. She tended to Bonny, settling her in the small barn with Epona for the night, and then went in search of Alannah. She wasn’t in the cottage, so Abby headed around back
to the creek. Alannah was there, sitting on a fallen log and staring out at the gently rippling water. Conall got up from his place by her feet and trotted over to greet Abby.

  “Hey Conall,” she murmured, scratching the thick fur behind his ears before joining Alannah on the log.

  Alannah turned to her, a distant look in her blue eyes. “Are you all right, Abby? I know that was difficult for you.”

  “I don’t know, really. I feel better after seeing Ian, but I feel very…out of sorts.”

  Alannah scoffed. “Aye, Andrew Fraser has that effect on people. I thought you handled yourself quite well, though.”

  Speaking of which…“Alannah, why didn’t you greet your grandfather? I imagine it’s been awhile since you’ve seen him, right?”

  Alannah’s expression grew even more distant. It was as though she had slammed a door inside of her to cut off all emotion. She turned away to look out at the water. Conall, sensing his mistress’s distress, whined softly and laid his head on her knee.

  Abby had noticed how none of the villagers spoke directly to her friend, except Ewan, and Ewan hadn’t been anything other than brusque with her. She thought that Andrew Fraser would have greeted his granddaughter warmly, but he either hadn’t noticed her standing in the shadows at the back of the room, or he hadn’t cared. That didn’t make sense, especially considering how devastated he seemed to be over the loss of his daughters.

  “Alannah?”

  After a long silence, Alannah turned to Abby, and this time her eyes were full of such pain that Abby felt her heart wrench. “Alannah, please. Why are you so isolated here?”

  “I…like the solitude,” she mumbled, and started to turn away again.

  Abby laid her hand on Alannah’s arm. “No, that’s not it,” she said gently. “I see how lonely you are. Tell me.”

  Alannah turned back to look at her. “It’s been this way for many years now, Abby. There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s just the way things are for me.”

  Well, that was clear as mud. “I may not be able to do anything about it, Alannah, but sometimes it helps to talk about things, to share them so you don’t have to bear the burden alone.”

  She knew about that all too well. It wasn’t until she’d told Ian about her parents’ deaths that she finally started to recover from her grief. God, that seems like a lifetime ago now!

  Alannah smiled slightly, but it did not reach her eyes. “I refused to marry a man I did not love. And the man I loved didn’t want me.”

  And now she had no one? “Alannah…”

  “Nay, Abby. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “All right. I’ll leave you alone, then.” Abby began to rise, but Alannah’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

  “Nay, please don’t. I…I would like you to stay for awhile. If you wish to, that is.”

  “Of course.”

  Abby sat down once more, wondering if Alannah would ever tell her the rest of her story. Conall came to sit between them, and Abby laid her hand on the wolf’s head and stared out at the creek. She thought of all that had happened that day, and wondered how it would go the next day when she had to face Andrew again. She would have Ian beside her tomorrow, no matter what Ewan said.

  As the sun dropped in the sky, Abby and Alannah sat in silence, each lost in thought.

  CHAPTER 18

  Ian lay on his pallet by the hearth in the small cottage, unable to sleep. He was worried about Abby. She’d tried to act normally during dinner at Alannah’s cottage that evening, but he knew she was still scared to death about facing Andrew Fraser again tomorrow. She’d gotten off relatively easy this evening, but how would she fare when she actually had to make conversation with him and answer his questions?

  As she’d pointed out before, she was no actor. She wasn’t used to improvisation—or interrogation—of any kind, let alone when her life depended upon it. They’d gone over the story she’d told Ewan a few times before dinner. She knew it inside and out, and now they could only hope that Andrew didn’t ask too many questions that would trip her up in a lie. He knew how much it pained her every time she spoke of her parents—real or fictional, the grief was the same—and he hoped Andrew would go easy on her.

  Ian rolled onto his back and stared at the thatch-covered beams over his head, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. He wished Abby was there with him now, so he could offer her some small measure of comfort, but he knew she wouldn’t risk being caught with him while Andrew was in the village.

  Ewan had decided to take Ian at his word that he wouldn’t leave before the feud was resolved, and so there was no longer a guard outside. But there were cottages on all sides, and that meant plenty of potential spies who could report back to Ewan or Andrew if they believed Abby was being compromised.

  What would happen when they returned to their own time? Would Abby be able to handle his acting career? He knew now that he didn’t want to live without her. He’d tried, and even with the excitement of his blossoming acting career, he’d been a shell of himself without her. If he had to give up acting in order to keep her by his side, then he would do so in a heartbeat.

  How much longer would it be before Ewan’s messenger returned, hopefully bringing word that the Mackenzies had agreed to meet?

  Ian rolled to his side and faced the fire, wishing he could turn off his brain for awhile so he could sleep. His thoughts turned to their passionate encounter in the stone circle. Was it possible that had been mere hours ago? In the flickering light of the fire, his mind showed him an image of Abby. Her head flung back in passion, her long legs gripped his hips as he pressed her body against that tree in the middle of the stone circle like some ancient pagan ritual. His blood heated at the memory of that primal moment, and he shifted uncomfortably. Thoughts like those certainly won’t help him fall asleep.

  There was a small sound behind him, and he caught the scent of lavender a split second before the furs were lifted and a warm body pressed against his back, a slender arm inching its way around his waist.

  His heart thumping with joy and anticipation, he rolled over to face Abby. It was as though he had conjured her with his thoughts. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just couldn’t sleep and thought if I was with you…”

  “You didn’t wake me. I couldn’t sleep without you here. But, Abby, you shouldn’t have come. Ewan will be furious if he catches you here.”

  Even in the dim light from the fire, he could see the flash of anger in her eyes. “I don’t give a damn about what Ewan thinks! That bastard threw me to the wolves today. He told Andrew some bullshit story about why they needed him here, rather than telling him anything about me. For God’s sake, Ian, the old man could have dropped dead of shock! What was he thinking?”

  “Shh, mo cridhe.” Ian kissed her forehead. “What’s done is done.” He pressed his lips to each cheek. “There’s no use in being angry about it now.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re here now, and I don’t particularly want to talk about Ewan, do you?”

  ****

  Abby knew she took a risk by being there with Ian. But she’d lain awake for hours in Alannah’s cottage, her mind racing, thoughts and images tumbling over each other as though an insomniac was channel-surfing through her brain. There was no hope for sleep without Ian at her side, comforting her with his presence and his body, and so she’d snuck out for the second night in a row. And she didn’t want to waste one more second of this night.

  “No, I don’t want to talk about Ewan. I want to feel your hands on my body.”

  As desire flared in Ian’s electric green eyes, she plunged her fingers into his hair—oh, how she loved his hair!—and kissed him, paying special attention to his succulent lower lip before touching her tongue to his. He rolled her beneath him, untying the drawstrings at the neckline of her chemise and slipping it off her shoulder. He dragged his open mouth down her throat and into the hollow
between her neck and shoulder, his big hands moving up her sides to cup her breasts through the linen.

  Her head fell back as her body came alive under the skilled ministrations of his hands and mouth. She gasped as Ian’s tongue laved the bare flesh of her breast. She felt him stirring against her, the throbbing heat of him awakening an answering pulse within her. His hand moved downward, dragging the hem of her chemise up her legs. As his calloused hand glided up her bared leg, she bent her knee, hoping to guide his hand to touch her where she burned for him.

  His lips left her right breast, trailing across her chest to pay homage to her left. Ever so slowly, he ran his fingertips up the outside of her thigh, caressing her bottom before shifting his body off of hers. Her eyes snapped open at the sudden loss of his weight upon her.

  “No, Ian!” she cried, reaching out with desperate hands to pull him back to her.

  “Shh, mo mhùirnìn,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against her chest. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He cupped the back of her head, bringing his lips back to hers. As his mouth devoured hers, he trailed his hand down her belly and sank his fingers into her.

  She sucked the breath from his mouth into hers as her body arched to meet the thrust of his fingers. “Yes!” she hissed against his lips, running her hands over his bare shoulders and down along the muscled ridges of his back, his skin hot and damp under her touch.

  He tore his mouth from hers and lifted her slightly, his hand continuing to move inside her. “I need to see you—all of you.”

  She dragged the chemise up and over her head, tossing the unwieldy linen out of the way once and for all. He gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes hot as they roved over her bared body. He dipped his head back to her breasts, supporting her back with one hand while the other continued its ministrations between her legs.

  Suddenly, the heel of his hand pressed against her in just the right spot. Oh God, yes! She buried her face in his shoulder as her body shook, her thighs clamping reflexively around his hand as he laid her down on the furs.

  She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his green eyes twinkling, a smug smile on his face.