Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  The unmistakable sound of a creaking door caught Kara's attention and she sat up in her bed.

  Was it Ian? Was it really the door or just her imagination?

  Her bedcurtains swayed in the cool breeze.

  She glanced at Harry's door ahead and to the right of the foot of her bed. Even in the silky darkness she could see it was closed. To her right, behind her headboard, Isla's was also closed.

  She stared into the darkness at her hall door.

  Again it creaked. Did she hear footsteps?

  The thought of Ian lifted goosebumps on her bare flesh. It had to be him and not her overactive imagination. He was here. She could sense him.

  She heard another creak of the door, and though she could barely see its movement, she knew it opened a crack. Yes, Ian. She heard his footfall on the floorboards; she smelled his freshly washed hair on the night air.

  The door creaked closed.

  "Ian?" she whispered.

  "Expecting someone else?" His voice was as silky and sensual as the black night air.

  He came to the side of her bed, and she heard him step on the heels of his leather boots and slip out of them. A shiver of anticipation crept up her spine as she heard his kilt fall to the floor with a swish and the muffled thump of the pin that held it closed. It was followed by the rustle of his linen shirt, woven on Dunnane's own loom.

  Kara slid over in her bed and felt his weight lower onto the edge. She rose up on her knees and pressed her bare breasts to his bare back. The coolness of the night air and the warmth of his skin made her tremble with desire for him.

  He sighed the sigh she knew so well.

  "Do you know how much I love this?" he whispered. "How much I love you?"

  She pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder, a shoulder so broad that she could cover it with a hundred kisses. "How much?" she breathed, pressing her cheek to his back so that she could feel him breathe in and out.

  "Let me show you." He turned toward her and slipped one hand around her waist to bring her onto her back on his lap. He cradled her head and lowered his mouth to hers.

  She slipped her arms around his neck and sighed his name against his lips. It was worth it. All of it. Pretending to be the obedient wife. The stealing about the castle in the darkness. The fear. This was worth it. Ian's love was worth it.

  "Kara?"

  "Aye?" She brushed her fingertips against his lips, reveling in the feel of them, imagining how they would feel elsewhere on her body.

  "Harry said something."

  "What did he say?" She stared up at him. With no candles burning she could barely make out the outline of his face, though it was so close she could feel his breath on her mouth. She stroked his hair, which was still damp from his bath. It was silky and cool between her fingers.

  "I want you to know I would not blame you. It makes more sense. 'Twould be safer—"

  She slid her arms over his shoulders.

  He rested his hand on her breast.

  "Ian, tell me."

  "Harry... Harry gave the impression that he... that you and he had—"

  Instantly she knew what he meant. "Nae," she answered sharply, her fingernails biting into the flesh of his shoulder. "We have not. I would not. He has not touched me that way."

  She had chosen not to tell Ian about Harry's attempted seduction the night of his birthday because she didn't want him ever, for one moment, to think she would betray him, even to save herself. "He is a child," she said firmly.

  "He is your husband."

  "He is a child, and I love you." She smoothed his beard-stubbled cheek, loving how masculine he was, loving how feminine he made her feel. "Only you."

  Ian let out a long breath that made her believe he had been thinking about this for a while. Perhaps days.

  "Do you believe me?" she whispered.

  "Aye." He smoothed her hair in a caress that told her all was right and well between them. "He was cornered when he spoke the words. He said the right thing. It was the safest response for him. For you. He was only trying to protect you, not boast," he reassured her.

  Suddenly Kara felt cold, and she reached for the light counterpane to pull over them, as if the counterpane could protect them from the evil that lay beyond their bed. "Dungald?" she whispered.

  "Of course."

  She was quiet for a moment. "Does this have something to do with why you came here tonight rather than me coming to you?"

  "Nae." He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to hers.

  Kara wanted to question him further, but as he slipped his tongue between her lips, as he slid his hand from the fullness of her breast, lower, she lost all sense of conscious thought.

  Suddenly nothing mattered but Ian's hands, Ian's voice and her love for him.

  Chapter 18

  Kara walked along the rocky stream and tossed a smooth stone to watch it splash and hop. She turned back to see Ian still on the picnic blanket, propped against a tree, his eyes closed.

  She smiled and started along the streambank again. Behind her she could hear Harry's voice, which had grown deeper in the last four months. Isla's laughter echoed.

  In the first days after Kara had gone to Ian's bed, she'd thought that time would not pass, but stand forever still. She'd thought everyone in the castle was looking at her, that somehow everyone knew she was an adulteress. But time did indeed pass, just as it always had: days, weeks, months. And as the days went by she became more relaxed, less concerned that she and Ian would be caught. They were always discreet in private, and in public took pains to be certain their relationship continued to appear as one suitable to a brother-and sister-in-law.

  In June, Isla had given birth to a beautiful daughter whom she named Margaret, Kara's middle name. Meggie was a sweet, good-natured babe with rosy round cheeks and a gurgle that no one in the castle could resist, Harry least of all. Since Isla's lying-in, the two had become close. Close enough to cause talk in the kitchen of the master and the mistress's maid. Kara almost had to laugh the first time the well-meaning cook had warned her that her husband might be dallying with Isla. Kara knew for a fact there was no such dalliance. What worried her was that Harry might fall in love with Isla. Such a love would be as tragic as her own. Like her and Ian, they could never marry. So far, at least, Harry seemed to be satisfied to have Isla for a friend. Isla seemed to enjoy his companionship as well, and was thrilled that he was so taken with her little bastard baby. Aye, for the moment life seemed to be good at Dunnane, so good that Kara wished it could on like this forever. So good that she knew it couldn't.

  Lost in her thoughts and enjoying the last of the mild weather before the cold set in, Kara followed the bend in the stream. It felt good to be out in the open, away from the confining walls of the castle and all its duties. It had been Harry's idea to go for a ride and a picnic. Ian had joined them as their escort.

  She thought of Ian lying under the tree asleep and smiled tenderly. She was worried about him. He often looked tired, troubled. She knew their clandestine relationship was wearing on him, but they had no other choices. They could love secretly or not love at all. Running away together to England or France was out of the question and had never been even discussed. They could not abandon Harry.

  Since his ruling on the Gordon-MacFae land dispute on his birthday, the political climate in the area had grown hot. Everyone was taking sides, either with George Gordon or Matty MacFae, but as Harry had predicted, no one was taking his side. There was grumbling about the poor decisions of a boy master. Kara knew this worried Ian even more than their personal tribulations. When she had first arrived at Dunnane, he had warned her of the dangers to Harry's position, to his life, and though he did not speak of it, she feared that the danger had increased.

  In the last months, Dungald had remained relatively quiet, mild for his usual behavior. He was so quiet that that worried Kara as well. Despite his lack of any obvious aggression, she felt him watching her, watching Harry. After a while his mer
e presence became unnerving.

  Kara glanced behind her. Ian and his tree were out of sight. She could no longer hear Harry and Isla. She knew she ought to turn back. But the stream was so peaceful. A glimmer in the water caught her eye and she crouched on the bank. Tiny fish swam downstream, the sunlight reflecting off their silver skins. She put her fingers into the cold water and tried to catch one, but they were too fast and slipped away.

  "Fishing for your supper?"

  Kara spun around, coming to her feet. Only six steps from her sat Robert the Red, the cattle reiver, perched on a large rock, a blade of grass between his teeth.

  She glared at him.

  He made no attempt to approach her but twirled the blade of grass in his mouth. "How have you been, my lady?"

  "I was quite fine before you appeared," she said coolly. She thought of calling for Ian, for surely she was still close enough to him to be heard, but her curiosity got the better of her. Why was Robert the Red here? He was still stealing Dunnane's cattle, not a great many, just enough to be a constant annoyance.

  "'Twill be cold soon. You are wise to stroll now before the snow flies."

  "Why are you here?"

  He lifted one broad shoulder. "To see you. To see how close I could get."

  Her heart gave a trip. She slid her hand downward to her abdomen. Her first and immediate thought was of the secret she feared she carried. Until this moment she had denied the possibility. But now, faced with danger, she knew it to be true. She was pregnant. She was carrying Ian's child, and her first thought was to protect that child. What if the cattle reiver meant to kidnap her for ransom? Could she protect the child she might carry from the likes of such a man?

  "Do not fear." He lifted one broad palm. The breeze kicked up and his orange-red beard fluttered. "I would not harm you, my lady. I only wish to worship you from afar."

  She didn't believe him. It made no sense. Why would a man risk his life to see a woman he didn't know, another man's wife? "You are a fool to come here. When you're caught, my husband will hang you."

  His smile was so broad that she wondered if the man was mad.

  "If I am caught."

  "Why are you stealing our cattle?"

  "Coin, pure and simple. That which drives most men... and women."

  She frowned. "I don't care about coin. I care about those I love, those I am responsible for."

  He regarded her carefully, still twirling the blade in his mouth. "Ye know, you speak so sincerely that a man could almost believe ye."

  She studied him, still wary, but not afraid. Whatever this thief was about, it was not kidnapping, and somehow she knew she need not fear for her own life or that of the child she could barely admit to herself she might be carrying. "Why would I care if a thief believed me?"

  "Ye would not. I only state my opinion."

  "If ye want to know my opinion, it's that you'd best go before I call for my men and they string you to the nearest tree limb."

  "Your men? I saw only the boy, your maid with a babe, and Munroe. Munroe's first concern would be the safety of the earl, as it should be. He would not dare take off after me for fear of leaving the boy vulnerable."

  He was right. They were less than a mile from the castle walls; Ian had thought there was no need for further escort. But in a dire emergency situation, his first priority would be to protect Harry, not to chase down a cattle thief.

  "You had best go," she said, lifting her skirts to head back upstream.

  "It was good to see you, my lady."

  "Take care that we do not meet again," she answered, "at your hanging."

  His cheerful laughter echoed in her ears as she hurried back around the bend in the stream, putting Ian back in sight. As she reached the blanket and sat down, he opened his eyes.

  "Where were you?" he asked sleepily. He slid his hand along the blanket to touch hers.

  Kara looked for Harry and Isla, but they were not in sight.

  She smoothed her hair, hoping she didn't appear too flustered. "Just downstream. There were little fish." She didn't know why she didn't tell Ian about Robert the Red. Some fanciful romantic notion, she supposed. She knew he was no Robin Hood. He stole from the rich to line his own pockets, but there was something about the look in his eyes that did not give her the stomach to bring him to the hanging tree.

  "Where are Harry and Isla?"

  He gestured upstream. "There through the thicket; I can see Isla's red cloak." He leaned forward to kiss the nape of her neck. "Which means we are alone for a moment."

  She closed her eyes, then opened them. Robert the Red. What if he was still watching them? She stood up suddenly.

  "Where are you going?" Ian called, holding out his hand to her.

  She walked toward the flash of red cloak in the brush beyond the clearing where they had picnicked. "It's getting cool. Isla should get Meggie back. Isla! Harry! Let's go!"

  Kara picked her way over the rocks and clumps of tall grass, thinking of the child she suspected grew inside her. She had missed only one bleeding; she was barely late. She had told herself in the last two weeks again and again that she mustn't panic. Not yet. There were explanations for the irregularity of a woman's body. All this worry could be for naught. Yet she knew in her heart of hearts that she carried Ian's babe.

  Of course, life could not remain the same.

  * * *

  "I don't understand." Harry sat before the fire and bounced four-month-old Meggie on his knee.

  Ian paced nervously before the hearth while Kara sat in a chair across from Harry, repairing the sleeve of one of his shirts. Isla had gone to the kitchen to see to the following day's meals.

  "What is there to understand? They're angry, and when men are angry they become like small children, stubborn, resentful."

  "I offer them my protection, not just from each other but from the Crown as well. I am owed this impost."

  "I agree."

  Harry brought his nose to Meggie's and muttered some inaudible baby gibberish, then returned his attention to Ian. "I have not demanded coin. I will take it in cattle, sheep, even scotch. And the sum is not unreasonable; it's nothing more than a token."

  Ian crossed his arms over his chest. "Again, I agree."

  Kara listened quietly to her two men, wishing she could do more than just sit there and stitch. She knew Ian was worried about this matter. The delay of neighboring families in paying the Earl of Dunnane his annual duty was obviously an act of defiance. The men did not approve of a boy leader and they were expressing their disapproval.

  They were also backing Harry into a corner. No matter what he did now, he would gain more enemies. If he ignored those who had not paid, those who paid would be angry. If he tried to enforce the fee, he would be accused of being brutal.

  The baby fussed.

  "If they don't pay, what do I do? I can't let them get away with this." Harry bounced Meggie again, but she continued to fret.

  "I see little choice."

  The baby opened its pink, toothless mouth and let out a wail.

  "Want me to take her?" Kara asked Harry, opening her arms.

  "Nae, you sit," Ian said. "I'll take her."

  Kara watched Harry pass Isla's baby to Ian. The child looked so tiny in his arms, as if she might be swallowed up by his bulging biceps and folds of tartan plaid. His hand was almost as large as her head. Yet he did not appear awkward with her.

  Kara couldn't resist a sad smile at the sight of Ian cradling a baby. It tugged at her heart. He would make a good father... if only he were permitted to be one.

  Ian brought the fussing baby to his shoulder and patted her swaddled bottom. "What can you do? You've little choice."

  Meggie's cry became a gurgle once more as she settled against Ian's thick neck.

  Harry thought. "Seize goods? Take them by force?"

  Kara noticed Ian using this tactic more and more often. He no longer told Harry what to do, but tried to lead him in the right direction. He asked him ques
tions but attempted to allow Harry, with guidance, to come to the correct conclusions on his own.

  Harry shook his head, coming to his feet. "Fight my own clan? I hate the thought of it."

  "Some who drag their boots are Gordons, but there are other families as well." Swaying with the baby in his arms, Ian took Harry's empty chair. Meggie was drifting off to sleep. He tucked her blanket under her chin.

  "My guess is that you would need to make an example of only one or two families. No one should be injured. We ride in with a couple of dozen men, talk mean, take a couple of head of cattle and ride off," Ian thought aloud. "The countryside will be in a great uproar for a couple of days, and then those remiss will show up at our doors swearing they had meant to pay all along, but were merely delayed."

  Kara gave up on her stitching to watch Ian rock the baby to sleep. She loved this time of night when they were all together like this—just her and Ian and Harry—the other men gone from the hall for the night. Sometimes Dungald, but more often not. He seemed to have other, more pressing business these days, though where, Kara didn't know.

  "That my babe who fusses?" Isla entered the circle of firelight.

  Kara laughed. "She appears to be sleeping peacefully to me."

  "Who would think she'd take to such a big bear of a man, eh?" Isla asked proudly, her hands settled on her hips as she gazed lovingly at her daughter.

  "Who would guess," Kara mused.

  She was almost two months late on her bleeding. She knew she was pregnant and yet she couldn't yet think about it in any way but abstractly. She wasn't yet ready to deal with Harry or the fact that she was obviously pregnant by another man. She could not yet deal with even telling Ian. It was funny, but she felt no sense of panic, not yet. Just this strange, warm feeling of acceptance.

  "Let me take her," Isla said, putting out her arms.

  Ian seemed almost reluctant as he handed the sleeping Meggie to her mother.

  Kara's gaze met Ian's. This was what he wanted for them. She could see it in his eyes.

  Kara wondered how far she could carry her deception. Could she bed Harry and make him think the baby was his, just born early? If she could do it, if she could complete the deception, this time next year Ian could be rocking his own babe before this hearth. Of course if she brought herself to do it, she would have to do it soon.