My Rebel Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  The memory of his attractive face and naked body in the candlelight that one blissful night at the inn haunted her, especially during the nights when she grew lonely and starved for human contact. Sometimes, in the depths of sleep, she would dream of his kiss and crave the feel of his mouth on hers so strongly her chest ached. His touch was the only affection she had ever known from a man in her twenty-four summers. Most of the time, she banished the memories from her mind, for they seemed naught but a fantastical dream that only tortured her. And she knew she could never have a repeat of that night, ever.

  ***

  "Come. You must see our beautiful daughter," Lachlan told Rebbie that afternoon. "We named her Hannah, after my mother." He led the way up the narrow stairwell.

  At his sitting room door, he knocked. When no one answered, he stuck his head inside, then motioned Rebbie into the empty room. "Have a seat. I'll go see if the bairn is asleep." He disappeared through a different door which Rebbie knew led to Angelique's sitting room.

  Moments later, Lachlan returned, carrying a wee bundle. 'Twas a sight to see—the tall, burly warrior holding such a tiny babe. Rebbie rose to his feet to see the cherubic face peeping from the blankets. Though he didn't know much about bairns, he couldn't help but smile. "She's adorable."

  "Aye, she looks just like me," Lachlan said proudly.

  Rebbie snorted. "I see no resemblance. She looks exactly like Angelique, if you ask me. She has her red hair and… what color are her eyes?"

  "They've been changing color, but I'm certain they'll end up light brown, like mine."

  Rebbie smiled and shook his head. "No matter who she looks like, I'm happy for you both. Congratulations."

  Lachlan smiled. "I thank you."

  The wee babe looked up at Lachlan and beamed the biggest smile Rebbie could imagine from one so young.

  "You see that?" Lachlan asked. "She loves her da." He kissed her forehead.

  "I'm certain of it. I'm also certain she's already spoiled rotten."

  "That she is, and I take all the credit."

  Angelique, a petite, red-headed beauty, entered the room. "Rebbie, I'm so pleased to see you again," she said in a silky French accent.

  Rebbie kissed both her cheeks in greeting. "Good to see you as well, m'lady. I was just saying how the babe is a wee version of you."

  At Lachlan's frown, she smiled. "Oui, but he will not hear the truth of it."

  "She looks like both of us," Lachlan said defensively.

  Rebbie chuckled. His friend was an indulgent, loving father, and this wee babe was his third child, but his first with Angelique. Lachlan would be happy with a dozen or more children, Rebbie was sure.

  "I'm so glad you've come," Angelique told Rebbie. "'Tis exciting to have so many good friends visiting. Have you met Lady Stanbury?"

  "Nay." At least he didn't think he had. Lady Elena was the only female he'd been introduced to here as of yet. And she'd run from him as if he were Satan himself. He wanted to give a bitter laugh over that but held it in check.

  "Stay here. I would like for you to meet her." Angelique disappeared into the other room.

  Chapter Two

  "Who is this Lady Stanbury?" Rebbie asked Lachlan.

  Still carefully holding his wee daughter, Lachlan shrugged. "A new friend of Angelique's. She arrived with your future bride."

  "She is not my future bride," Rebbie grumbled. "She's practically a child."

  "Nay, she's eighteen summers. Plenty old enough to be wed."

  Rebbie shook his head. "You are as mad as my father."

  Moments later, Angelique returned. "Lady Stanbury must have gone back to her own chamber. You can meet her at supper."

  Rebbie nodded. 'Twas fine by him. To his way of thinking, he'd already met one too many ladies today.

  He was hopeful Lady Elena would stick to her decision and refuse to marry him. He was counting on it. He'd told his father he would stay another day or two, mainly because they hadn't seen each other in such a long time. It had naught to do with Lady Elena.

  Humph. She was not the sort of lady he was naturally drawn to, and he knew 'twas not going to work out to his father's liking. He might talk to her during supper, but he had no interest in getting to know her better. She was a coddled brat who looked down her nose at "barbaric" Highlanders.

  ***

  Stepping into the great hall, Rebbie caught sight of his father and ground his teeth, annoyed beyond reason he was at Draughon. If Rebbie had known, he would've delayed his trip by a few months. He didn't hate his father, merely his domineering nature. And he'd be damned if he allowed his father to choose a bride for him who didn't suit.

  The young lass they'd introduced him to earlier was seated at the high table. She was pretty enough, but far too young for his taste. 'Twas not merely her age—he'd met more mature eighteen-year-olds—but her petulant disposition. He did not wish to marry someone who'd just escaped her tutor's thumb. He much preferred fully grown women.

  "Laird Rebbinglen." Barclay approached, offering his hand and Rebbie shook it. What was the man up to? He had a begrudging smile upon his face and appeared far friendlier than before. Had his father informed the man how much Rebbie was worth? "I would be pleased if you would have a seat beside Lady Elena. You two need to get acquainted. I'm certain she will warm up to you once she becomes more comfortable around you."

  "Splendid," Rebbie muttered. Damnation, she was the last person he wished to converse with, and considering her earlier outburst, she felt the same way about him. 'Twas sure to be a long supper. Or mayhap she would flee the room again. He could hope.

  At the table, he bowed. "Lady Elena."

  "Laird Rebbinglen." She eyed him with trepidation.

  "I ken you fear me, being that I'm a barbaric Highlander and all," he said dryly. "But your father wishes me to sit here beside you. Are you in agreement?"

  Her gaze ran over his black doublet and matching breeches. His father had begged him to dispense with the Highland garb. He would for one night, but he'd become fond of the plaid since he'd spent the last several months in some of the remotest parts of the Highlands. The plaid felt far more natural on his body than confining breeches.

  Elena lifted her eyes to meet his and she smiled. "Aye. I would be pleased."

  Och! Nay, he didn't wish her to smile at him. He wanted her to throw another fit and flee the room like before. He definitely should've kept the kilt on if that's what she'd objected to.

  With much reluctance, he took a seat beside her and was relieved when Lachlan immediately sat on his other side. "Will Lady Angelique be joining us?" Rebbie asked.

  "Nay. Unfortunately, she is too tired, and wee Hannah is awake, demanding her attention."

  "I see."

  "You must tell me of your adventures since I saw you last," Lachlan said.

  "Aye, over a wee dram later, if you have it."

  "Indeed, I do."

  One of the clan elders said grace, then the food was served.

  "Have you been traveling, my laird?" Lady Elena asked, giving him a coquettish smile.

  "Aye. I spent much of the winter and spring in Durness, on the north coast."

  She gave him a blank look. "Are there any cities or towns in Durness?"

  Rebbie almost choked on a bite of venison, then carefully swallowed. "Nay. 'Tis but a wee village."

  "Oh." She twisted her mouth sideways. "I dislike villages."

  Humph. Of course, she would. "I grew fond of the place," he said. "Nice and peaceful. Beautiful country."

  "Sounds dull."

  Rebbie shrugged, finding this conversation to be the dullest thing he'd yet encountered. He turned to Lachlan. "Dirk sends his best wishes for you and Angelique."

  "How is he? I miss the lad."

  "Excellent. He's chief of the MacKays now and happily married."

  Lachlan's eyes widened. "Och! In truth, he is married?"

  "Indeed, with a bairn on the way."

  Lachlan shook his head.
"Never thought I'd see the day. Did he choose his bride, or was he forced into the marriage?"

  "They chose each other. 'Tis indeed a love match." Rebbie chuckled. "He stole another chief's intended bride."

  "Dirk did?" Lachlan's brows quirked. "I cannot imagine that. He's always been so… quiet."

  "Aye, but 'tis the quiet ones you must watch out for." Rebbie took a sip of ale. "You are the one no one expected to marry."

  Lachlan gave a grin and nodded. "I can see why people would've thought that before I met Angelique. But she is the best thing that ever happened to me."

  "I agree. And I'm glad you two are happy."

  A mischievous glint entering his amber eyes, Lachlan lowered his voice. "It appears you will soon be happily married, too, aye?"

  Rebbie glared aside at him. "Not likely," he said through clenched teeth.

  Lachlan shrugged dramatically. "The contract has been signed."

  Rebbie frowned and motioned slightly with his head, trying to tell Lachlan wordlessly to cease this discussion with Lady Elena so near. Lachlan merely smiled. Damn the man. Of course he was repaying all the needling Rebbie had tortured him with when he and Angelique had first met. He supposed he deserved it. But he didn't like it.

  Somehow, he had to escape this trap his father had dragged him into.

  ***

  After everyone was off to supper in the great hall, Calla knocked at Angelique's sitting room door. She didn't know whether her friend was in her rooms or if she'd joined the others for supper. The maid opened the door.

  "Is the lady asleep or in the great hall?" she asked quietly.

  "Nay. She was nursing the babe. Come in. I'll tell her you're here."

  "I but wish to see her for a moment." Calla had remembered the secret passageways Angelique had told her about the day before. When they'd first married, Angelique and Lachlan had problems with clan traitors using the passageway and laird's lug, or laird's ears—a way for the laird to listen in on scheming guests. Calla decided a visit to the passages might be the best way to know what was going on in the great hall without actually being there.

  The maid entered the bedchamber and returned a moment later. "She will see you now, m'lady."

  "I thank you." Calla entered the bedchamber, which Lady Angelique used as a nursery. "Are you well?" Calla asked.

  Angelique laid the babe in the cradle. "Oui, of course. Just a bit tired. Wee Hannah was fussy last night and kept me awake for hours. I think she had a stomachache, but she's feeling much better now."

  "I'm glad." Calla couldn't help but smile every time she saw the babe. "She is so precious," Calla whispered, remembering when Jamie was that age. 'Twas the happiest time of her life, for she had a son and her vile husband finally left her alone.

  "Merci. Do you miss your son?" Angelique asked.

  "Aye, terribly." She and Jamie had always been together from the first. Two months ago, that had all changed when she'd had to leave him with his aunt and uncle, the Earl and Countess of Glenhaven, while she took a position to earn money. "How could you tell?"

  "'Tis easy to see."

  She didn't know when she would get to see Jamie again since she was now employed. She was certain he was being treated well because her late husband's sister coddled the lad and even hired a tutor for him, something Calla certainly couldn't afford now, much to her shame.

  "Why are you not at supper?" Angelique asked.

  "Well… 'tis a long story. I wondered if you would mind if I used the laird's lug you told me about yesterday, so that I can watch what goes on in the great hall."

  Angelique smiled and lifted a brow. "Who are you going to spy on?"

  Calla's face burned. While she and Angelique had become friends during the past sennight, she could not reveal all to her. "I wish to see how it goes with Lady Elena and her betrothed. She thought him a barbarian when she met him, but I think he cannot be that bad, surely."

  Angelique grinned and shook her head. "Non, Rebbie is one of the most civilized men I know."

  "Rebbie?" Calla blurted, then she recalled Lachlan and Angelique mentioning the name earlier.

  "Oui, 'tis what his friends call him."

  "I see. Short for Rebbinglen?"

  Angelique nodded. "Or Robert. Did you meet him?" she inquired with a frown. "I was going to introduce you to him earlier, when he came to see the babe, but you had gone."

  "Oh." Calla had heard his voice in the next room and exited by the other door as quickly as she could. "Nay, I was in the great hall when Elena met him, but I was not introduced, of course. I'm merely her companion."

  "But you are a lady, the widow of one of his peers, so you should be introduced as well."

  "I'm sure I will meet him… later."

  "He is a handsome man," Angelique said, still eyeing Calla much too closely.

  "Aye." Calla had certainly noticed. She hoped she wouldn't blush and give herself away. "I but wished to observe him and see whether he is civil and whether he would treat Elena well, if they should marry." She hoped that sounded like a good excuse. In truth, she wanted to learn anything she could about him before they came face-to-face. She prayed he wouldn't recognize her, but what if he did? Would he embarrass her and cause her to lose her much-needed position as Elena's companion? If Barclay turned her out on the street, she would have nowhere to go. Her home was naught but an empty shell. They had not a stick of wood to burn or a parsnip to eat.

  Angelique nodded. "Tres bien. I'll show you how to enter the hidden passageway. Can you go alone or do you wish a maid to go with you?"

  "I'll go alone."

  "You will need this." Angelique gave her a candle in a holder from the mantel, then called the nursemaid to watch the babe. Angelique then led the way from the nursery chamber, through two sitting rooms and into another bedchamber. This one was grand and elegant, with a massive polished oak bed, blue and burgundy velvet curtains, and fine tapestries—clearly the laird's chamber. Calla was certain the lady slept here, too. 'Twas obvious Angelique and Lachlan shared an enduring passion, and Calla had to admit she was a wee bit envious of their love-match.

  Angelique moved the tapestry aside and opened a hidden door. "'Tis very dark inside, but I've had the servants clean it well. Hopefully, you will not trip over any debris. I wish I could go with you." She grinned. "Let me know what you find out."

  Calla nodded and headed into the darkness of the passage. She wasn't afraid of the dark. She had sometimes escaped her former husband by slipping into the hidden passage at their home, once he was drunk. He often became violent just before he passed out.

  She followed the narrow steps downward. Once she reached a level area, she heard the boisterous conversation echoing from the great hall. She followed the sounds to another narrow stairway, and climbed it toward the slivers of light. Finally, she arrived at the laird's lug. This place was perfect for the laird to spy on his guests and listen in on any plots being hatched against him. But this evening, 'twas her spot for spying on Rebbie—she had to grow used to that name. He had been nameless all these years, but she had often wondered what he was called.

  Peering through the small square opening in the stones, she looked down at the high table in the great hall. Rebbie sat beside Elena but paid her no mind. He conversed with Lachlan. Angelique had said they were the best of friends.

  Elena looked painfully bored as she sat between Rebbie and her mother. Calla was so relieved to have escaped the meal. She knew not what she would say or do once Rebbie's gaze fell upon her and recognition dawned. She should've insisted on complete darkness the night of their tryst over six years ago. But she had never thought to see him again. He'd told her he was from far north of Stirling, while she was from the east. What horrid luck that their paths should cross again now.

  He could never discover her secret. If he did, 'twould be disastrous, for she had used him in a most shocking way. She hadn't wanted to, but she'd had no choice. Shame cloaked her like a hot, wet blanket. 'Twas either fol
low through with her plan or be murdered by her husband. She was a survivor, and Rebbie could never know he'd saved her life.

  She well knew how adulterous ladies were dealt with, for she'd heard Kilverntay talking to Barclay about it one day, their voices hushed. 'Twas a situation much like her own. An earl had learned that his wife had passed off her lover's natural son as the heir. The woman had been taken before Scottish Parliament and the Kirk, her deceptions and sins exposed for everyone to judge and the son's future title and property stripped. She grew sick merely thinking of enduring such scandal and ruin. Kilverntay, a member of parliament, had made it clear how vile he found such a woman.

  Calla watched as the meal below ended. Rebbie bid Elena good-evening and followed Lachlan from the room. Moments later, Calla heard deep male voices echoing from somewhere else. She turned and frowned into the darkness of the tunnel. Where were the sounds coming from?

  She picked up her candle and slipped down the dark stairs. Hearing the voices louder, she froze.

  "I cannot believe what my father has done." 'Twas Rebbie's voice and he did not sound happy.

  "Aye. He's a meddler, is he not?" Lachlan chuckled.

  "I'm not marrying that chit of a girl." Rebbie's deep voice, almost a growl, sent shivers over Calla's body.

  "What of the contract?"

  "Once I find it, I'll burn it."

  Lachlan laughed.

  "I haven't felt the urge to marry, so why should I be forced into it? 'Tis madness. You know me; I love my freedom."

  "Aye."

  Saints! Rebbie sounded as if he was determined not to marry Elena. Mayhap he would leave soon and she'd never have to meet him face-to-face. Please, God… Calla squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, praying 'twould be so.

  She could hear naught now. What were they doing?

  Carefully, Calla crept closer along the level portion of the secret passage. Dim light gleamed through a crack in the wall. She peered through and saw the two men in the library, Rebbie crouching before the fireplace, poking at the coals and adding wood, while Lachlan poured whisky. Seconds later, Rebbie rose to accept the small glass his friend offered.