My Rebel Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  Our son, Calla had said. Saints. Those simple words filled Rebbie with such gratitude, his throat tightened. "Don't fash over Jamie's future."

  "How can I not?" Her eyes pleaded with him to understand the magnitude.

  "My father is a member of parliament. He's friends with most of the other members."

  "But he hates me."

  "Nay, he likes you. In fact, he's outside and he swore if I didn't kill Claybourne, he would."

  "Oh." Her eyes widened.

  Rebbie forced a reassuring smile, hoping it would help her relax. "He'll take care of it."

  "Are you certain?" Calla searched his face.

  "Of course." While it was true that his father hadn't liked her initially, he had come around in the last few days. And even if he couldn't officially claim Jamie as his grandson, he would still most likely do anything to help the lad.

  "How could you come here alone and put yourself in such danger?" he asked, the rage and fear echoing through him again.

  "I'm sure you know why. He threatened Jamie's future."

  "Aye, but you could've waited for me to return to Draughon."

  She shook her head. "I thought you'd never forgive me."

  Before he could respond, a knock sounded at the open door. "Are you both well?" Lachlan asked, his gaze scanning the room.

  "Aye. Calla was cut, but I'm certain the bleeding will stop soon. Were any of the men hurt?"

  "Naught more than a few cuts and bruises. More guards came after us but we overpowered them. I see you downed Claybourne."

  "Aye, he got what he deserved."

  "I applaud your aim." Smirking, Lachlan turned and headed down the corridor again.

  Rebbie kissed Calla on the forehead. "Thank God you're safe. Let me help you get dressed." He closed the door and found her clothes on the floor. No smock; it was lying in shreds on the bed. Damn Claybourne. He glanced at the whoreson, making certain he was indeed dead.

  Rebbie helped her with the remainder of her clothes, being careful of the bandage on her forearm. The blood was already soaking through. After she was dressed, he wrapped another strip of the sheet around it tightly.

  "There now." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "We'll take this sheet for more bandages."

  Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Rebbie," she whispered.

  "Shh. All is well now." He embraced her, wishing he could tell her how much he loved her, and that he would do anything for her, but words were elusive, and he had no time to think of the right ones. He wanted to get her out of here before the authorities showed up.

  He glanced into the corridor and found his friends peering down at several of Claybourne's men sprawled upon the floor, blood pooling around their bodies. They'd learned the hard way that no one messed with Highlanders or their women.

  "Come." Rebbie lifted Calla into his arms and proceeded out.

  Lachlan turned. "How is her arm?"

  "The bleeding has almost stopped. Let's get the hell out of here."

  "My trunk," Calla said.

  "What?"

  "I have a trunk of clothing somewhere that I need to bring with us." Her anxious gaze darted about. "It contains the deed to my estate."

  "Is that it?" Lachlan pointed to a trunk sitting just inside the doorway of a bedchamber.

  "Aye."

  "Take this trunk, Hamish," Lachlan told one of his men.

  Moments later, the lot of them rushed from the front door of the mansion, Rebbie carrying Calla, his friends brandishing swords and racing toward the still-closed portcullis.

  "Open the gates!" Alasdair commanded.

  The guards hastened to do as they were told and disappeared back into their gatehouses, likely thinking that made them safe.

  "Bring them with us," Rebbie said. "Someone will need to turn them over to the authorities."

  Once the men had rounded up Claybourne's remaining guards, they proceeded along the road to where Rebbie's father and five of his men waited with the horses at the edge of the wood.

  "You got her!" his father looked genuinely elated. "Did we lose any men?"

  "Nay, but they lost several," Rebbie said. "Claybourne cut Calla's arm right before he died. And a few of the men were cut, but nothing severe."

  "I'm sorry to hear you were injured, m'lady."

  "I thank you, m'laird." Calla turned to Rebbie, her tormented gaze pleading with him. "See if he will help," she murmured.

  "What is it?" Rebbie's father frowned, his gaze darting back and forth between them.

  Rebbie explained that Claybourne had sent missives by his steward to the parliament about Jamie not being Stanbury's son.

  "Ha. Bastard," his father growled, his dark gaze taking on a maniacal gleam." Begging your pardon, m'lady. I'll intercept the missives personally. Did he say how many there were?"

  "Nay."

  "No matter. I'll speak to every member of parliament if I have to. I'll tell them 'tis all a grand lie Claybourne fabricated because he wished to blackmail the lady and make her his captive. But first, I want to question Claybourne's remaining guards before I turn them in to the authorities." He nodded toward the bound men. "Do you need my help here?"

  "Nay. And I thank you, Da."

  "Aye, thank you," Calla said.

  His father gave a brief bow, then mounted and called out for the dozen of his men to accompany him and to bring Claybourne's guards with them. He was in his element now.

  "You can put me down," Calla whispered as they watched the men ride away.

  Rebbie shook his head, staring into her bright gray eyes. Though they were the color of frost, they gleamed with warmth. "I'll never put you down. I want to hold you forever."

  She pressed her lips together and blinked back tears. "I love you."

  Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, then whispered, "I love you, too."

  Putting her arm around his neck, she kissed him again. He suddenly relished everything about her—her light weight in his arms, the taste of her lips. His heart pounded with the realization she was the only one for him. He never wanted to spend a night without her again.

  "Aye, that's what we like to see." Lachlan slapped him on the back in passing.

  Drawing back, Rebbie flicked a glare at his friend as he walked away, then carried Calla behind a thick tree trunk for a bit more privacy. "Marry me?" He hoped it sounded like a question, and not like the demand he wanted to make.

  "What?" Her eyes widened.

  "M'lady… Calla, will you marry me?" he forced himself to be gentlemanly, when he wanted to do naught but carry her into the forest and ravish her upon the leaves in a most primal bonding. "Or should I say… will you do me the honor of—"

  "Aye! I will marry you." Smiling, she kissed him soundly on the lips.

  "Thank the saints," he muttered, relief flooding through him. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again. I thought I would go mad before I reached you. I want to go get my son, too."

  She bit back a smile. "You cannot say that in front of people," she whispered.

  "I won't." Damnation, it still irked him. "But he is my son and I will take care of him. We'll tell everyone he's my stepson, once we marry. But we ken the truth of it. And one day he will, too, when he's old enough to understand."

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. "I am sorry… for everything. Can you forgive me?"

  "Aye, of course, I forgive you. I ken why you did it. But now, indulge me. Allow me to make up for lost time… with you and Jamie."

  She nodded, stroking an affectionate hand over his jaw and short whiskers. "I'm glad you want to. How many people know?"

  "Lachlan, Angelique, my father. 'Haps anyone with eyes."

  She sent him a mock glare, but he saw the amusement behind it.

  "You ken 'tis true—the handsome lad looks just like me."

  Smiling, she nodded. "He does, and I'm glad."

  ***

  Calla rode behind Rebbie the three miles to the Glenhaven Estate, cherishing the feel of him within
her arms. How she'd missed him and been terrified she would never see him again. But now she was elated and could hardly contain her smile and tears of joy. He still loved her and wished to marry her. She couldn't believe how fortunate she was.

  While his friends and the rest of the men waited outside the gates at the Glenhaven Estate, Rebbie took Calla up the drive to the castle on his horse. At the front steps, he helped her dismount and accompanied her to the entrance. The cut on her arm still smarted and burned, but she tried to ignore it and focused on Rebbie. Thankfully, he'd removed the blood-spattered gambeson he'd worn during the battle and put on his dark blue doublet again. They'd both washed the blood and dirt from their hands and faces in a small fresh stream they'd passed.

  He smiled at her in the early evening light as if he could hardly contain his excitement. She was so thankful he'd forgiven her and rescued her. He'd been like a dark, avenging angel smashing through the door. She would never be able to thank him enough or repay him.

  She wore her cloak, hoping it hid her bloody bandage for the most part. She must look a fright, but she truly didn't care. Rebbie loved her, wanted to make her his wife, and their son's future appeared to be safe. She would not rest easy until Laird Kilverntay returned and said he'd intercepted Claybourne's missives, but she had full confidence in the man. She could not believe how he'd looked at her with kindness just before he'd ridden off.

  A male servant, Tandy, opened the door. The guard behind him didn't look near as friendly, as his hostile gaze flew to Rebbie. Glenhaven pushed by the guard, his graying hair gleaming in the waning light.

  "Lady Stanbury." He frowned, his suspicious gaze darting to Rebbie.

  "Laird Glenhaven, this is the Earl of Rebbinglen," she said.

  "Her future husband." Rebbie offered his hand. "Robert MacInnis. A pleasure to meet you."

  Glenhaven looked taken aback for a moment, then shook Rebbie's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you. Won't you come in?" He stepped back, then followed the two into the great hall.

  "Ma!" Jamie raced toward them, his face alight with joy. "You came back."

  She knelt and hugged him. "I did, indeed."

  "Rebbie came, too." Jamie stared up at him, wide-eyed and curious.

  "Of course. I promised to give you a ride on Devil, did I not?"

  Jamie nodded eagerly, beaming.

  Calla was thrilled that Jamie and Rebbie seemed to already like each other so well.

  "What is happening?" Glenhaven's gaze shifted to Rebbie, then back to Calla. "You returned the lad only this morn."

  Releasing Jamie, Calla stood. "I had a bit of business to attend to. 'Tis all cleared up now, I think." She looked to Rebbie, ashamed to admit how much she needed his reassurance.

  "Indeed." Rebbie nodded, then turned to Glenhaven. "I plan to marry Calla—Lady Stanbury—as soon as possible. I would also like for her son to come live with us at Castle Rebbinglen."

  Calla glanced down to gauge Jamie's reaction to this news. He stood gaping at Rebbie.

  "Well… this is sudden." Frowning, Glenhaven studied Rebbie with uncertainty.

  "His father is the Marquess of Kilverntay. Do you know him?" she asked, wanting him to know Rebbie was the most trustworthy of men.

  "Kilverntay?" Glenhaven's brows shot up. "Aye, indeed. How is he?"

  "He's in fine health," Rebbie said. "'Tis hard for me to keep him out of trouble though."

  Glenhaven chuckled.

  "You don't mind if we take Jamie now, do you? I'll send for the rest of his things, along with his nursemaid in a few days," Rebbie said.

  "I don't mind. His father appointed me his guardian and tutor, but I trust the two of you will take good care of him. We'll miss the lad, though." Glenhaven smiled down fondly at Jamie.

  "I thank you for your help these last several months," Calla said.

  After they gathered a few of Jamie's things, and his aunt bid him a tearful goodbye, they proceeded outside.

  "M'lady." Morna rushed out into the courtyard behind them.

  Calla took her aside so they could talk privately.

  "I'm so glad you've returned. Do you wish this back now?" Morna held out the sealed missive.

  "Aye, and I thank you for holding onto it for me." Calla smiled. "Laird Rebbinglen has asked me to marry him and I've agreed."

  "Oh! How grand, m'lady." Tears of joy glinted in Morna's eyes. "I'm so happy for you."

  "I thank you. We'll send a carriage for you and your things in a few days."

  Once Rebbie helped Calla mount, then hoisted himself into the saddle, Glenhaven lifted Jamie to sit in front of him.

  "I get to ride Devil!" Jamie yelled.

  "Shh. You'll startle the horse, love," Calla scolded gently.

  Rebbie chuckled, feeling happier than he could remember.

  He held the wriggling lad to his chest with one arm and took up the reins in the other. "How is your arm?" he asked Calla. "Can you hold on?"

  "Aye."

  Rebbie proceeded slowly, walking the horse down the long drive and savoring the moment and his own joy. He was near mad with it, wanting to spin Calla around, kiss her, and tell her again how much he loved her, but 'twas impossible at the moment. Instead, he gave in to the urge and kissed the top of Jamie's head. He didn't seem to notice, so captivated was he by riding the horse. Rebbie was glad in a way, for the lad might think him daft.

  Outside the gates, Lachlan grinned and shook his head. Rebbie knew what he was thinking, but he didn't care. Naught could hold back his smile at the moment.

  "Want the lad to ride with me?" Lachlan asked, clearly aware Rebbie was having a difficult time with two additional riders—even though he was enjoying the closeness—and Calla injured besides.

  "Aye. Would you like to ride with Lachlan, Jamie?" he asked.

  Jamie nodded and went to him. "You're Kean and Orin's da."

  "Indeed, I am. They're looking forward to seeing you again."

  They all arrived back at Draughon just as gloaming was turning to night.

  "I need to see to your arm." Eyeing her bloody bandage, Rebbie helped Calla dismount in the courtyard. "You're likely to need stitches."

  She frowned. "In truth?"

  "Don't fash yourself. I'm good with a needle."

  Lachlan approached, carrying Jamie. "The wee man fell asleep."

  Rebbie grinned and held out his hands. "I'll carry him inside."

  Once Rebbie had the sleeping lad in his arms, his head resting against his shoulder, he felt, for the first time, that he was truly a father. He kissed his son's head, then turned to find Calla watching him with a grin, tears glimmering in her eyes. Wrapping his arm around her, he kissed her temple.

  "Oh, mon amie, you are hurt." Angelique rushed toward them, then fussed over Calla's injury. Rebbie left Devil in George's care and, carrying Jamie, followed the ladies into the great hall.

  "Who is the healer here?" Rebbie asked.

  "Rowena. Also, Gwyneth is here," Angelique reminded him.

  "Aye, 'tis good. I think Calla may need stitches. I can do it, but I'm certain Gwyneth is far more skilled at the task."

  After handing off her wee bairn to a nursemaid, Gwyneth approached them. "What has happened?"

  Rebbie explained the situation and how Calla was injured.

  "We must clean the cut well," Gwyneth said.

  Jamie awoke wide-eyed and apparently raring to go. He glanced around quickly, no doubt looking for his friends.

  Reluctantly, Rebbie set him to his feet, and Jamie scurried across the great hall toward the four other lads.

  Gwyneth and Angelique ushered Calla up the narrow stairwell and into a bedchamber. Rebbie followed but hung back near the door, watching Calla with concern.

  The other two women glanced at him, then shared a faint conspiratorial smile.

  "We promise not to hurt her, my laird," Gwyneth said.

  "I know you won't." Realizing he was perhaps being a bit overprotective, he felt his face heat. But he was intensely
concerned about Calla's cut. He didn't want her to lose too much blood nor get an infection.

  "Rebbie," Angelique said gently. "S'il vous plait, find something to drink. You must be thirsty after that long ride. Then, return in a little while."

  "And would you please keep an eye on Jamie?" Calla asked him.

  "Aye." Reluctantly, Rebbie turned and left the room. Indeed, he knew Gwyneth was an excellent healer. He'd witnessed her bringing Lachlan back to health after a terrible injury. And Calla was not that bad off.

  Besides, he did want to see what his son was up to. Entering the great hall where the servants were busy setting up for supper, he spotted Jamie talking with the other lads. Considering how wide their eyes were, he must have been telling them a tall-tale. He grinned and proceeded to the private corner away from all the activity where Lachlan and Alasdair sat.

  "Is Calla all right?" Lachlan asked.

  "Aye. She's in the capable hands of both your wives."

  "No telling what sort of ideas they'll put in her head." Lachlan grinned. "Ale?" He handed Rebbie a tankard from a tray on a small table.

  "I thank you." Rebbie accepted it. "Slàinte."

  They all raised their glasses in a toast, then Rebbie drank deeply, only now realizing how thirsty he'd been. After swallowing, he said, "I can never thank you both enough for your help over the past couple of weeks."

  "We're glad to help. You've certainly helped us in the past," Alasdair said.

  Lachlan nodded in agreement, then smirked. "Now, are you going to marry the lady or nay?"

  "Aye, of course. She has agreed to put up with me." Rebbie smiled. "And Jamie will live with us at Castle Rebbinglen."

  "He's a fine lad," Alasdair said.

  Rebbie nodded. "I meant to tell you, congratulations on the birth of your wee son."

  "I thank you." Alasdair smiled proudly, taking on the look of a man who was indeed happy.

  "Even though Jamie won't inherit your titles," Lachlan said, keeping his voice low, "and you cannot claim him publicly, you're still fortunate to be able to raise your son."

  "I agree. That will be enough." Rebbie was very much looking forward to it, in fact. It had been a bit odd, yet thrilling, to discover a wee version of himself. 'Twould be fun talking to the lad each day, giving him rides on Devil, and teaching him how to ride a pony of his own.