Highlands’ Forbidden Deeds

by Adamina Young

Stepping in front of her suddenly, she put a hand to his chest to stop him. “Connor, I have seen the scars on yer back. I know that ye were not just imprisoned. We cannae continue blaming each other for what happened. We both survived, and now all we can do is move forward.”

  “Is that what we’re doing, Moira? Moving forward?” In the moonlight, he reached down and tipped her chin up. “Sometimes I feel as though all we are doing is moving in circles.”

  She felt the same way, but it was not something that she wanted to admit.

  20

  To my dearest son,

  It has always been my hope that love would find you in this life, the same love that has blessed me in the guise of your father. We raised you to believe in strength and power, to make the hard choices between yourself and your clan, and to let your head guide you in all matters.

  I feared that we had forgotten to teach you the most important lesson, that the heart can be just as powerful, but as soon as I saw you and Moira together, I knew that there was no lesson I could teach you that would be more powerful than what you experience with her. There is nothing but love in your eyes when you look at her, and when she smiles at you, I see myself at her age, looking at your father. With her love to guide you, I know that you will be all right.

  Our lives are hard and sometimes cruel, and I beg of you to never shut her out. As long as you allow her to love you, as long as you allow yourself to love her, there will always be a light guiding you out of the darkness.

  I write this knowing that tomorrow, you will ask her to be your bride. Your love is young, but it will mature over the years, grow stronger and hardier. I know you will continue to make me proud as you have always done. You have taken your brother under your wing and helped turn him into the brave boy that he is today. When he becomes a man, I know that he will be like you. You have protected your sister and encouraged her, and I know that someday she will be a powerful woman in her own right. And you, my wonderful Connor, will be one of the best lairds this clan has ever seen because you will let love lead you.

  Be brave, Connor, for life can be unexpected, but trust that you will always go where you need to be.

  You are forever in my heart.

  * * *

  Several weeks had passed since Moira had opened the chest. Alone in his chambers, Connor read the letter again by the flickering candlelight and swallowed the lump in his throat. No matter how many times he looked the letter over, he came away with more questions. His mother must have written this the day before she died. Had she known, somehow, that the end was near?

  Had she known that he was soon to make the biggest mistake of his life and lose the one chance he had at love? If only he had found the note sooner, maybe he would have trusted his heart more, kept Moira by his side, and he would not be constantly wondering if she could ever forgive him, if she could ever love him.

  Knowing his mother, she had probably written something similarly moving to Moira. Maybe it would be enough for her to open her heart to him because as much as Connor feared the consequences, he could no longer deny the inevitable.

  He was desperately in love with his wife.

  At the tentative knock on the door, he folded the letter back up. “Enter,” he said gruffly as he walked to his wardrobe and tucked it back into the drawer.

  The door opened, and Clyde stuck his head in. “Laird, the hunting party has returned.”

  Tonight they were planning a huge feast to celebrate the finished kitchen. It was a snub to the fire-starter and also a way to break the tension in the clan. He was doubling the patrols, daring the perpetrator to strike again so they could clap him in irons and this whole nightmare would finally be over.

  “Then let us go meet them. My wife has informed me that the cook is chomping at the bit to see what we will bring her. No need to delay.”

  Clyde grinned. “Aye, Laird. Tonight is just what we all need.”

  Indeed.

  “He is handsome, isn’t he?” Grace asked with a sly grin while she, Moira, and Ainsley nearly collapsed in the grass from their last dance. Moira’s feet ached, and she was starting to feel a little dizzy. Perhaps it was all the spinning. She couldn’t remember the last time that she’d danced so much, but tonight it had nearly sapped her of all her energy.

  “Who?” Ainsley asked.

  Grace exchanged a secretive look with Moira. A week ago, they had decided that the best way to help Ainsley was to find her a husband who would make her burn during the night and make her feel loved and cherished during the day. It couldn’t be all that difficult. Ainsley was beautiful, after all, and there were plenty of Sinclairs stealing second and third looks at her.

  “Nathair,” Grace continued with a nod. “I used to have a crush on him when we were younger.”

  "Something about seeing him run naked through town?” Ainsley asked dryly, and they all laughed at the memory. “Aye, I suppose he is handsome, but I am surprised at ye, Grace. I thought ye had decided not to marry.”

  Inwardly, Moira groaned. She didn’t really think that they were looking for a man for Grace, did they? Although, now that it was in her head, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Grace was lovely. A little unconventional, but certainly there was a man who would love that about her.

  Once they got past her need to ride out to the training fields every morning and challenge the guards. And her need to test the defensive patrol every night by trying to sneak past.

  “I doonae want a husband,” Grace said hotly as she wrinkled her nose. “But ye are built for love! How many times do I see ye sneaking glances at Connor and Moira, and sighing with longing?”

  “Sighing with longing?” Moira echoed with a snort. “And why would ye do that? We arenae a blissfully loving couple.”

  “Please! The two of ye cannae keep yer eyes or yer hands off each other. I thought I might be sick earlier when ye two were dancing.” Grace rolled her eyes and grinned. “I know that he was trying to convince ye to leave the festivities earlier so the two of ye could…”

  “Doonae finish that sentence!” Moira said as she blushed. “Ye are an unmarried woman. Ye should not know about these things.”

  “I pick up all kinds of information listening to the men,” Grace giggled. “I know things that would make yer hair curl.”

  Moira could believe it, and Grace was right. Connor had been trying to get her to leave the festivities early, but she wasn’t in an amorous mood, at least not at that time. Grace might have felt sick, but Moira actually was sick. It was all she could do to keep her dinner down until she could make it someplace quiet. With all that was going on, the last thing she wanted was for the clan to believe that she was sick. She was still trying to win them over. She wanted them to believe that she was strong.

  Besides, now that she was sitting down, the sickness seemed to be passing. Perhaps it was nothing more than something she ate.

  “I have no plans to remarry,” Ainsley said quietly. “One husband was enough for me.”

  Grace shrugged. “A lover, then. As a widow, ye are entitled.”

  “Moira, are ye all right? Ye look a bit pale,” Ainsley said as she ignored Grace. “I saw ye hurrying away earlier. Is something wrong?”

  The nausea had passed, but she was so tired that she feared she might fall asleep right there by the bonfire and be trampled by enthusiastic dancers. “I am exhausted,” she admitted. “I think I really will turn in now and try to get some extra sleep.”

  Standing, she swayed on her feet and would have fallen if Grace and Ainsley hadn’t immediately jumped up and caught her. “Moira, what is it?” Grace said anxiously. “Should I get Connor or the healer?”

  “Nay!” Moira said sharply. “There is no need. I doonae want the clan to think that I am weak. I am just so tired. Ainsley, if ye will walk with me to my chambers, then I will be grateful. Grace, ye can tell Connor that I went to bed early, but doonae let him leave. He is enjoying himself, and I want that to continue. Doonae tell him that anything is wrong beca
use nothing is wrong. I think I’ve overdone myself planning for the feast.”

  “If ye say so.” There was a note of uncertainty in Grace’s voice, but she nodded, and Ainsley tightened her hold around her waist.

  “Put yer arms around me,” she whispered. “Everyone will think that we are just two silly women, stumbling back after having too much fun.”

  Moira did so, knowing full well that she might not make it back on her own, and it wasn’t until they were outside her chambers that Ainsley finally released her to open the door. “Moira, ’tis not just exhaustion, is it?”

  “Tis true that my stomach has been upset lately, but I amnae running a fever,” Moira said defensively. “I am certain that I will feel better after a good night’s rest.”

  “Does Connor know that ye are feeling unwell?”

  “Nay, he has been so busy during the day, and at night…” Moira blushed. “Let’s just say that my husband is one of the reasons that I have been so tired.” Ever since the night where he’d been shot at it, he’d been more attentive than ever. Their nights together were urgent, almost desperate, and she didn’t know what was wrong, but she clung to him in an effort to let him know that everything would be fine. No matter what, they would find a way.

  “I will keep yer secret,” Ainsley said finally after studying her. “If ye doonae want half the clan to know, ye shouldnae tell Connor. Ye know how he will dote on ye.”

  Moira knew, and she agreed. “Just one night of sleep,” she whispered. “’Tis all I need.”

  Two days later, Moira had to admit to herself that it was not just exhaustion. Something about the way dinner smelled turned her stomach, and Moira held the nausea at bay until she could excuse herself. Pretending to want to give Maevis a few carrots before she went to bed, she hurried to the stables and nearly made it halfway before she leaned over and wretched. A strange feeling settled in her stomach, and she put her hand over it and shuddered.

  It couldn’t be, could it?

  Feeling a little better, she clutched the carrots and made her way to the stables. There wasn’t a groom in sight, but she didn’t mind being alone. She greeted her mare and held out a carrot. “Hello, sweeting.” The horse ambled from the other side and carefully took the snack. “I suppose ye will be the only one I can share my suspicions with for awhile. ’Tis appears that Connor has done his job as a husband far sooner than I had expected.”

  It was ridiculous to hope that it would take longer. She had spent almost every night in his arms, so it only made sense that he might get her pregnant sooner rather than later. “I doonae understand why they might call it morning sickness when it hits whenever it pleases.” She sighed. “For four days, I have been nauseous. I suppose I will have to see the healer soon, but now that I think back to my last monthly, I realize that I should have been more vigilant.”

  And now that she was pregnant with the babe, she would separate herself from Connor while they waited to see if she would have a boy or a girl.

  It was what they both wanted, right?

  “So the laird is to have an heir,” a dark voice said from behind her. Moira gasped and whirled around to find Greg lurking in the shadows. “I have to say that I am sorry to hear that, my lady. I doonae relish what I have to do now.”

  “What do ye mean?” she asked nervously. Since Greg had followed Ainsley here, he’d been the best worker, even teaching Connor’s grooms a thing or two about horses. Moira suspected that Greg was a little in love with Ainsley, but while she showed him a great deal of loyalty, the love didn’t seem to be reciprocated.

  “I mean that I cannae allow ye to live long enough to give birth. Ye willnae have the Sinclair heir.” As he rose and walked toward her, she was reminded of just how large he was, and fear struck her. If she screamed, who would hear her? ’Twas late, and most people had retired for the night.

  “What do ye have against me and my babe?” she whispered as she clutched the carrots, a poor substitute of a weapon, and backed away.

  “Nothing against ye, but everything against that babe,” he hissed. “Connor Sinclair doesnae deserve the power that he wields, and that child will only do more harm.”

  Something clicked in her mind as she stared at him, her heart pounding. “Ye!” she breathed. “Ye are the one who has been trying to kill him. To undermine him! But why? When ye needed shelter, Connor gave it to ye! He has treated ye with nothing but kindness. Why would ye target a man that ye barely know?”

  “But I do know him. I know that he is beloved by everyone who sees him, and he doesnae deserve it. I know that he doesnae care for those who would give everything to him!”

  His eyes danced with insanity, and she wondered if perhaps Ainsley’s husband’s death truly was an accident, or if Greg had a taste for blood. When he raised his hand, she saw the dagger glint in the moonlight. She screamed.

  The blade came down and she dodged it just in time. Remembering the training Hamish had given her, she waited for him to stumble and then swung her elbow as hard as she could. Greg grunted and sprawled onto the ground.

  The bigger they are, the harder they fall, she thought.

  She screamed once again for help, and this time, there were shouts to answer. Greg pulled himself up and launched himself at her once again. This time, she was able to dance around the blade but not the body, and when he hit her, she fell into the wall. His fist swung, connecting to her jaw, and for a moment, she could see nothing at all.

  “Moira!” Mungo shouted, and suddenly, the barn was full of people. Someone dragged Greg away, and she huddled in the corner and held an arm over her stomach, By the time Connor arrived, Greg was unconscious on the ground, and three of his warriors were standing over him.

  Connor ignored him completely and hurried to her side. “Moira! Moira, look at me, love. ’Tis over. Ye are safe.”

  The babe! She needed to tell him about the babe, tell him that she needed a healer, but if she opened her mouth, she feared that she would cry. Instead, she just sagged against him and shivered.

  “All right, lass. I have ye.” Picking her up, he swung her easily into his arms. “Take the traitor to the dungeons and wake him up. I will speak to him first, but make no mistake, he is to be executed before the morning light. Find the healer and send her to my chambers. I want my wife looked over.”

  There was a flurry of activity, but all she cared about was being safe in her husband’s arms.

  21

  After the healer announced that Moira would bruise but was otherwise fine, Connor left them and stormed down to the dungeons. It didn’t surprise him to see Ainsley waiting for him at the entrance. Her hair, normally so neatly bound, was tumbling down her shoulder, and tears streamed down her face. “Connor, I cannae do any more than beg for yer forgiveness although I understand if ye refuse to give it to me. I had no idea what Greg intended to do.”

  “’Tis not yer fault,” he said as he pulled her into a quick embrace. “Although Moira told me that she feared this was not the first time Greg may have tried to spill blood.”

  Ainsley paled. “Ye think…my husband…I had no love for the man, but I feel sick to think that the man I trusted as a protector and a friend has turned to this. And…oh, Connor, there was a death, a murder, of a pretty young woman in the village. The man courting her had been terrorized for weeks, and then she ended up dead. Most thought her suitor had done it, but there was never any proof. What if Greg…”

  “Doonae blame yourself.”

  “Please, will ye give me a moment alone with him? Yer guards willnae let me see him, and I need to know why he did this. I think if I speak to him, he will be more likely to speak to ye.”

  Connor considered it. Ainsley had a point. Despite what Greg had done, he seemed loyal to her. If she told him to be honest, Connor might get the truth out of him. “If ye can get him to speak to me, then I will make his death a quick and clean one, honorable. I can promise no more than this.”

  “No, I wouldnae ask for more.�
� Her face hardened. “Under the circumstances, ’tis far more than he deserves.”

  Although he hated the idea of her being alone, Connor escorted Ainsley down and made sure that Greg’s chains were secure before he and his guards gave her some privacy.

  No more than ten minutes later, Ainsley emerged, crying, with her arms tucked around her body. Connor quickly embraced her. “Doonae cry, lass. His crimes arenae yers.”

  “He admitted to killing the girl,” Ainsley whispered. “Admitted to an obsession with Moira. He would have killed her, Connor. Oh, how can I forgive myself for this? How can I trust anyone?”

  There were sudden shouts of alarm from below. Ainsley pressed a hand to her mouth and glanced fearfully back.

  “Go back to yer chambers,” he ordered. “Now!”

  Leaving her, he grabbed a torch and hurried down the long stairwell. His men were standing outside the iron gates staring somberly inside. “He must have had a small blade hidden in his boot,” the guard said apologetically.

  Muscling through, he saw that Greg was still chained, but his shoe was half off, and there was a small blade in his hand. Blood dripped from a wound on his wrist. “Ask Lady Ainsley to forgive me,” he rasped. “I never meant to betray her. I cannae contain my dark hunger.”

  Then, before anyone could react, he slit his own throat and died within seconds.

  “Take care of the body,” he ordered angrily. There would be consequences for the guards who had not searched him more thoroughly. Connor had wanted to get answers himself, not get his answers through a second party.

  Tomorrow, he would send a messenger to Covington lands. Greg’s other victim’s family deserved to know the truth of her death.

  For now, he needed to see his wife and come to terms with the wild fear that had erupted inside of him, the fear that he had lost her without ever telling her the truth.