In a matter of a month, everything was out of my mind. Nathan and I only shared small talk and it felt great not having any rush of emotions when we did talked. Erick had been trying to reach me but I couldn’t exactly talk to him. I felt like he was trying to relight up some old candles and I definitely was not looking forward to letting history repeat itself. I actually met a new guy at a restaurant, Kevin. He’s sweet, funny and honest, everything that I look for in a guy, and we connected so deeply. We have been hanging out a lot, and Veronica approves of him, too.
THE END
Bonus Story 12/40
Highland Mist
The news of the laird's death spread quickly, and so it was that Gavin Loudain, only just turned twenty-seven, stepped up to take his late father's place. A second message was sent out of Alasdair's death across the highlands and moors; there were to be games and a great hunt held in the former laird's honor, and many were invited to stay in the manor during the festivities. For the first time in his life Gavin felt truly free, but it came at a terrible price. He could only hope that the funeral celebrations would do much to put his mind at ease.
He was no stranger to the house of which he was now the sole owner. His childhood had been spent inside its walls, finding every nook and cranny that the old wood and stones harbored. The world outside, however, still carried a mystery. He knew the words the witches on the moors had said to his parents, but the witches were long dead, or else gone somewhere far away, and now his parents were gone as well, and he had survived. With the hunt he had planned, he would make his name. No longer would he be the cursed child of the Loudain clan, fated to die almost before he had drawn his first breath. He would be a strong, fearless leader, his name known throughout the land. No longer would he be a prisoner inside his own home.
It would take some time for all of the messages to be sent, but it would not be time idly spent. For all his faults, of which Alasdair had many, he had been a good man, and was worthy of the highest burial honors he could be given. His body was placed in care of the kirk and its priests, who tended to it and placed it on display for his tenants from the nearby villages to come by and offer condolences and their own small stories of whatever kindness Alasdair had shown them and their families. Gavin bore it all with his head held high, even as the pain of having lost his second parent in an untimely manner bored a hole into his heart. The games would prove to be a considerate amount of work for everyone in his household, but Gavin knew that they would bring cheer to all his new renters and to himself.
The first to arrive were family, a good week or so ahead of when the other guests would likely show, to make time for the burial and a moderate amount of grieving. It was a somber affair, as all funerals were. Gavin wore his best and watched as the casket bearing his father's body was lowered into the ground next to his mother. Despite his grief, it was almost as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. With both of his parents gone, there was no one to warn him against doing the things he wanted to most. The whole of the world was now his to explore, and the games and hunt were just the beginning of the life Gavin wanted to have for himself. The life he was sure that he would have already had, if it hadn't been for some old women in a croft in the middle of nowhere thinking they could control people's fates. He was never as superstitious as his parents had been. Words were only words. His destiny was in his own hands.
The manor swiftly grew crowded. The only place Gavin could have any peace was in his father's old study, a room that he had forbidden anyone save himself to enter for the foreseeable future. The last thing he wanted was one of the servants thinking they could take something, or mess around with the estate's accounts. Never a particularly neat man, Alasdair had left quite a mess for his son to sort out. He was only lucky the family wasn't in any debt. At least he had the hunt to look forward to, a chance to show that he was just as much a man as the next despite his unusual childhood. They would catch a fine stag and have a feast that would be talked of for years to come. The thought made him smile even as he faced the momentous task of sorting through his father's unfinished affairs.
At first guests arrived in small groups, but then a wave of them arrived. Gavin didn't envy his kitchen staff the burden of having to feed the entire house, but it was only temporary. The stables were stuffed full, and a hasty paddock had to be set up to accommodate the extra horses. Many of the guests brought their own attendants, which considerably lessened the stress on Gavin's own staff. He was ever grateful for his butler, a man called Gregory, who had an impeccable memory and dutifully reminded Gavin of all the names he forgot, of which there were several. He couldn't help but wonder if his father had ever managed to keep them all straight or if Gregory had performed the very same job for him as well.
It was at the feast that he held the night before the games and hunt were to commence that he first saw her, and it felt like he had been punched in the gut. Sheltered as his childhood had been, even he had heard tales of the great hunter Isaac MacGregor. The stories and boasts had failed to mention that he had a sister, or that she was as beautiful as he was handsome. In a hall filled with dozens of people it was she that his eyes sought, and he sucked in a startled, excited breath when he realized that she hadn't stopped looking at him since she and her brother were announced.
Her dark hair was pulled back in a single braid that fell down her back, her dress a simple affair of green that hugged the shape of her hips, and a slender necklace of diamonds accentuated the length of her neck and rise of her bosom. Gavin was far from the only man staring at her, but they all made way as he pushed through them to stand before her and her brother and offer them a low, respectful bow. The two of them returned it, then Reagan offered Gavin her hand. He delicately pressed his lips to the warm skin of her knuckles.
“It is a pleasure tae meet ye, Miss MacGregor,” he said, holding her gaze for a handful of seconds that seemed to stretch into an eternity before Reagan reclaimed her hand and placed it on her brother's arm. Gavin turned his attention to the famed hunter and gave him a smile and a firm handshake. “And ye as weel, of course. I am honored that ye hae answered ma invitation.”
“Yer father was a good man,” Isaac replied. He was as dark as his sister, and only half a head taller. When he smiled it was bright and friendly. “I’m honored tae hae been invited. Besides, how would it look if a great hunter such as myself refused tae answer such a call?” He guffawed, and those around their group joined in with polite laughter. Reagan caught Gavin's attention and rolled her eyes, a small smile curving her full lips. Gavin returned it, feeling his chest expand and his heart thump away madly behind his ribs.
“Allow me tae show ye tae yer seat,” he said, and gestured towards the table behind him with one hand. Isaac and Reagan followed him to empty seats halfway down the table. He would have sat them closer to him, had there not been family to consider. He himself had barely managed to retain his place at the head of the table from his elder uncle, and only on the grounds that he was both the host and laird of the manor. Slowly, the remaining guests found or were shown to their seats, and the quiet roar of conversation ended when Gavin stood, full wine glass in hand. All eyes were on him, but the only pair Gavin cared for were Reagan MacGregor's. He searched and found her staring intently at him, the lamps and candles lighting the room casting shadows over her blue eyes.
Gavin raised his glass. “Tae ma father,” he said. “May he rest in peace, and may I be as good a man as he was. Slàinte mhath.”
Around the table the toast was echoed. They drank, and then the food was brought and the feasting began. Gavin was separated from his guests by family, but he wasn't at a loss for conversation. Many of his relatives he hadn't seen in years and they were all quite interested in learning what he had been doing in the meantime. Gavin, however, was distracted by the woman sitting a handful of feet away from him, past a group of his cousins. He was pleased to find that she was captivated by him as well.
There was a tugging l
ow in his stomach, not the pull of arousal but of something deeper. Reagan smiled at him over the lip of her wine glass. Gavin returned it and made a vow to get her alone so they could talk without being limited by the constraints of having so much company. His intentions, of course, were purely noble. He simply had a curiosity that needed to be sated. Meeting Reagan once hadn't been enough, and from the looks she had been giving him, it seemed it hadn't been enough for her either. There were still several courses to sit through, and dessert besides, but after that Gavin hoped he could catch her before someone else spirited her away, and take advantage of the copious amounts of alcohol that had started making rounds up and down the table.
As delicious as the food being served was, Gavin hardly noticed a bite, so fixed he was on the beautiful woman watching him from further down the table. She blushed at his staring but didn't look away, and raised her glass to him and him alone. Gavin returned the gesture then drank, holding Reagan's gaze until his name being loudly called pulled his attention back to his family.
Still, he stole glances at Reagan throughout the night, and maybe it was just his imagination, but it seemed that she was as eager to speak to him as he was to her. Cursed child, he thought with a mental scoff. He was the luckiest man in the world to have the attention of such a beautiful woman. He kept one eye on her the entire meal, tracking her movements, and slipped away as soon as he was able. Entertainment had been set up for both men and women, mostly rooms reserved for cards and smoking. Gavin slipped through the room until he was at the side of Reagan and her brother and gave a short, formal bow.
“Might I escort yer sister tae the game room?” he asked of Isaac.
The hunter had a giddy smile on his face that spoke of too much wine, and he waved his hand dismissively.
“Of course,” he said. “I'm off tae play cards myself. Perhaps ye will join us?”
“I would be delighted tae,” Gavin replied, but his gaze was on Reagan and he had already offered his hand to her. She took it without hesitation and squeezed her brother's shoulder in parting before slipping her arm around Gavin's elbow and resting her other hand just above his wrist.
“He likes ye,” Reagan said, smiling again as Gavin steered her around the table and out of the dining room.
“Either that or he has drunk too much tae care,” Gavin replied.
Reagan blessed him with gentle laughter. “Maybe it's both,” she said. “Isaac is protective, but I'm ma own woman. Dinna be surprised if ye see me amongst yer hunters tomorrow.”
“I would be honored and glad tae hae ye,” Gavin replied.
He walked right past the crowded game room, down the hall to where a number of other rooms had been left open. Reagan cocked a brow at him, but said nothing. Gavin looked over his shoulder, checking for any sign of Isaac, and gestured for Reagan to enter the room directly to his left. She breezed past him, leaving a trail of perfume in her wake. Gavin slipped in after her.
“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Reagan said, “but I dinna believe this is one of the designated entertainment rooms.”
“Yer not wrong,” Gavin replied. “I simply wished tae speak tae ye alone.”
“Then we hae shared a similar thought,” Reagan said.
“I'll admit that… such knowledge is beyond ma ken, but, do ye feel as drawn tae me as I am tae ye?”
“From the moment I laid eyes on ye,” Reagan said. Gavin's heart did a flip in his chest. “It's a curious thing, is it not? The soul.”
“Aye,” Gavin replied.
“I hae heard what the witches on the moors said about ye,” Reagan said.
“I doubt there is a soul here who hasnae. This is in part a celebration of their curse not having come tae pass.”
“Perhaps ye simply hae not yet found yer life's greatest treasure.”
“I believe I’m looking at her,” Gavin replied, “and if I die tomorrow, it will be as a happy man.”
Reagan had the grace to blush. “Ye should return me tae a proper game room before the others begin to talk. I wouldn't want the start of our relationship tae be soiled by impropriety, would ye?”
“Nae,” Gavin said, and offered Reagan his arm once more. He deposited her in the ladies’ card room, kissing the back of her hand in parting. It sent the women in the room into titters and Gavin heard their soft, conspiratorial whispers directed at Reagan as he exited the room to drink and smoke with his fellow men. The drinking and gaming went late into the night. Those who weren't given lodgings in the manor left sometime after midnight, trickling out in bits to take their carriages through the nippy night air back to the village and the various rooms they had purchased there. Gavin himself was one of the last to retire, as was Isaac MacGregor.
“Ye've had yer eyes on ma sister,” the hunter said over a glass of whiskey. There were a handful of other gentlemen in the room, having a quiet discussion by the fireplace. Gavin felt his neck warm but kept his expression neutral.
“She's hard nae tae look at,” he replied.
“Aye,” Isaac said, “that she is, but I'll not hae ye sniffin' about her skirts.”
“I dinnae ken what ye mean,” Gavin replied. “I've nae been sniffing around anything.”
“If ye want tae court ma sister, all ye need do is ask,” Isaac said. His face had broken into a broad, drunken grin. Gavin couldn't help but wonder how much of the conversation he would remember in the morning. “I saw how she was looking at ye too, lad.” Gavin bristled at the term. He and Isaac were of a similar age, but the man was drunk, so Gavin let it go. He doubted it was meant as an insult. “Of course, that disnae mean ye'll be given permission.”
“And what would I need tae do tae obtain it?” Gavin asked.
“Killing that stag would be a good start,” Isaac replied, winking. “Provided I dinnae get tae the wee beastie first.” They shared a laugh and Isaac finished his drink. “Until tomorrow,” he said and stood, clapping Gavin on the shoulder before heading out of the room.
Gavin sipped at his whiskey, his head reeling and feeling a bit drunk himself. He played at the host for as long as he could, but eventually he had to retire. He teetered his way up to his room and managed to mostly undress himself before toppling onto his bed, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
*****
In the morning he was woken by Gregory, who politely told him to get his arse up or else he would risk missing his own games. There was an aching in his head, but it was nothing a good breakfast and a bit of exercise wouldn't work out. While he yawned and stretched and went about washing his face, Gregory prepared his clothes for the day and set out his shaving soap and razor. The cold water in his wash basin roused Gavin, but did nothing to dim the aching of his head. With a sigh he settled in the chair by the window and tipped his head back. With practiced hands Gregory spread the soap over Gavin's jaw and carefully scraped off a day's worth of stubble.
“Will ye be havin' breakfast in yer room, sir?” Gregory asked.
“Nae today,” Gavin replied. “I shall eat with whomever is awake to dine with me. Fetch me ma kilt, would ye?” Gavin rubbed the remains of the shaving soap from his face and stood so Gregory could assist him in wrapping his kilt about his waist, the red and green checks of Clan Brus bright and jolly and perfect for the occasion. He fixed his shirt and did up his buttons, then stooped to pull on his boots. When he rose again and combed back his hair with his fingers, a glance in the looking glass showed a man every inch the laird he had just become. Every inch the man his mother and father had been afraid of him becoming.
“Will there be anythin' else, sir?” Gregory asked.
“Nae, that'll be all,” Gavin replied.
Gregory bowed and showed himself out. Gavin followed almost on his heels and made his way down to the dining room. He wasn't the first to arrive, but he wasn't the last either. Isaac and Reagan were missing, as were a few members of Gavin's family. Everyone rose to greet their host until he waved them back down and took his normal seat at the head of the ta
ble. A nearby manservant served him tea and he settled back and let the conversation slowly draw him in. Gradually they were joined by the rest of the manor's guests. When Isaac and Reagan arrived, the men stood almost in unison. Reagan smiled politely at them, but had eyes only for Gavin.
She was dressed in a sturdy riding dress in shades of green and brown, her skirt split to allow her to straddle the horse. Her small jacket had a flattering cut that emphasized the curve of her waist and swell of her bosom. Gavin imagined there was a matching hat to go with it as well. Her brother helped her to her seat. The gentlemen around her claimed their own, and then Reagan's smile was for Gavin, and Gavin alone.
After a quick breakfast of eggs and sausage, Gavin led the group out to the fields and hills behind the manor, where the games would be held and the hunt would begin. There was something for everyone, just as Gavin had wanted. The hunters stood aside from the main group, Reagan amongst them. A headcount revealed that everyone was in attendance, and the horses were brought out. They mounted up and Gavin blew the horn tied to his saddle. With that, the hunt began.
The party trotted off towards the woods, leaving the rest of the guests behind with senior members of the Loudains to entertain them. Gavin's blood was already pumping. He had been on hunts before, but never without supervision. It felt exhilarating. On his left rode Isaac and on his right Reagan. The trackers in the party went ahead to search for signs of their quarry, and behind the main party came servants and horses with food and drink for lunch and a small pack of hunting dogs. They were all armed heavily enough to take down a regiment of Redcoats. The stag would have little hope of survival once they found him.
The Crime of Protection Page 39
