Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  Chuckling, filled with relief, Kara lifted her skirts and ran for the stairs. She beat Ian to the bottom. Side by side they met Harry just inside Dunnane's walls.

  "Kara! Ian!" He waved as he rode in through the gates, past the guardhouse.

  Kara waved. Ian stood still beside her but she knew he was as excited as she was, as anxious to see Harry well.

  "Was your effort a success, my lord?"

  Harry swung out of his saddle, tossing his reins to one of his men. "Alfred was sorely vexed, even made a stand at his gate." Harry smoothed his leine chroich, holding his head proudly. "I think he was surprised to see me. But he backed down." He glanced over his shoulder at Dungald, riding through the gate. "Didn't he, cousin?"

  "Aye," Dungald said with less enthusiasm. He dismounted and removed his gloves. "The boy—his lordship stood well. Alfred paid his fee when he realized it was time he took the Earl of Dunnane seriously."

  Kara threw her arms around Harry and he hugged her in return. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered in his ear.

  He beamed.

  Ian hit him none too gently on his shoulder. It was as close to a hug as Kara had ever seen men exchange in public.

  "All is well here, my lord," Ian said, "but 'tis good to have you back."

  Harry pulled his sword from his belt and handed it to one of his clansmen. "Is supper coming?" he asked, taking Kara by the arm to lead her inside. "I'm close to starving."

  Kara laughed, her voice echoing off the gray stone walls that seemed to climb into the heavens overhead. "How did I know it would be food you would be needing?" she teased, so thankful to have him home safely again. "The tables are already being set."

  * * *

  Kara sat at the head table in the great hall, listening to Harry repeat the day's events to Ian. Having eaten, she sat back in her chair and listened to the men talk, content to sit between the two people she loved most in the world.

  Dungald sat on the other side of Harry, well in his cups. He was obviously disgruntled about something, but she didn't know what. She didn't care so long as he was quiet and didn't bother her or Harry. Dungald had been like this often lately. Sullen, often angry. Kara guessed he was disappointed that Harry's encounter with Alfred had gone so well. She knew Dungald expected—wanted—Harry to fail at every turn. Surely it upset him when the boy succeeded.

  "I honestly do not believe he thought I would come for him," Harry told Ian, lifting his goblet to his lips. He leaned closer to Ian. "Did you know my father did not enforce the annual duty?"

  Ian nodded. "I have heard as much."

  Harry sipped his wine and set down the cup. "I do not mean to speak ill of the dead, of my father, but I hear things. And the more I hear, the more I think he was not a good manager of his lands and monies."

  Ian stared at the cup he gripped in his hand. "What your father did or did not do is not your responsibility. What you do now for your people is what matters."

  Taking in what Ian said, Kara glanced at Dungald. She actually felt a bit sorry for him. She had heard him mumbling for months that Harry's father had not done his part. She, of course, had not believed a word. He was only jealous that his own father had been a younger son, and therefore had not inherited. But now, knowing what she did, she thought perhaps that Dungald's father would have served Dunnane better. But that was not the way the feudal system they had followed for hundreds of years worked. Harry's father, as the eldest son, had been heir, no matter what his ability. Dungald had just never accepted the matter.

  "How are you, dear wife?" Harry asked, refilling his cup.

  She smiled. "I am well, sir. Well."

  He smiled back at her and then lifted his goblet, coming to his feet. "Gentlemen, gentlemen."

  Slowly the clansmen quieted, all turning in their chairs to hear what their lord had to say. The atmosphere in the great hall tonight was one of joviality, victory. Everyone seemed to feel good tonight, about themselves, about their clan lord.

  "I want to thank all of those who attended to me today. Well done." Harry nodded. "And also those who remained behind to protect our walls."

  Everyone in the room came to their feet, including those sitting at the dais. Kara picked up her own glass.

  "Hear! Hear!" Harry cried and lifted his goblet high in a toast.

  "Hear! Hear!" the men echoed, their voices a roar.

  The toast was followed by the pounding of feet, goblets ringing on tables, cheers of goodwill.

  "And while I have you all gathered..." Harry said.

  Again the men quieted.

  "While I have you all here, I would like to make an announcement of a more personal nature."

  Kara suddenly felt warm, prickly. She didn't know what he was going to say but suddenly she felt uncomfortable. Surely he wasn't going to tell them about the baby. Not yet. "Harry," she whispered.

  But Harry didn't hear; he was too caught up in the moment, grinning proudly as the men waited in anticipation.

  "My wife and I, the Countess of Dunnane"—he put his arm around her shoulder—"will be having a child."

  A great roar of applause rippled throughout the room, echoing off the stone walls and the high, domed ceiling.

  Red-faced, Kara looked at Harry.

  She immediately knew by the look on his face that he knew he had done something wrong. Too angry to speak, she dropped her goblet on the table and walked away.

  "Kara!" He followed her.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ian rise from his chair, watching her, but he did not follow them.

  "I asked you to wait," she hissed under her breath.

  He nearly had to run to keep up with her as she crossed the hall. Clansmen watched with interest, wondering what was about with the lord and lady of the manor.

  "We agreed we would wait!"

  "But Kara, I don't see why we had to wait longer. Everyone is so pleased. I only wanted—"

  Kara turned on her heel to face him, still within the hall. She was so angry she could barely form her words. Harry had come so far in the last months, matured so greatly, and yet there were things he still didn't understand. Dangers he still didn't see.

  "It would have been safer to have waited," she managed through clenched teeth. "Until I was farther along." Her gaze met his and tears welled in her eyes. She was overwrought, she knew, but she couldn't stop herself. "Because I just didn't want to tell! We agreed, Harry."

  "I only meant to—"

  "Don't say another word," she snapped, thrusting her hand in his face. "Don't say another word, Harry Gordon, or I will... I will..." She dropped her hands to her sides, too angry to think. "God's teeth," she shouted, "I wish I had never married you!"

  Before he could get out another word, she turned and ran from the hall.

  * * *

  Harry followed Kara to the passageway before thinking better of chasing her up the stairs. He halted in the darkness, his hands falling limply at his sides. He had been so excited about his day's accomplishments, even excited about the baby, even if it wasn't his. Now all was a mess; he had made a mess out of everything.

  "They're like that, you know. Women. They can all be bitches."

  Harry turned to see Dungald behind him and exhaled slowly. He thought he would give her time and then go up to the tower. He would apologize. She was right; he should have waited. He hung his head. She was always right.

  Dungald sidled up to him. "I suppose congratulations are in order. Not only did you do the job, but apparently you did it right." He elbowed him.

  Harry glared at Dungald. He was not in the mood for his cousin's insinuations tonight, not now.

  Dungald's face fell. "It is your child, isn't it?" he asked pointedly.

  Harry felt a strange sense of dread creep over him. What did Dungald know? Surely he couldn't know.

  Harry felt his face grow hot. "Of course." He squared his shoulders. "Of course the babe is mine! Whose the bloody hell do you think it is?"

  Dungald threw up
both hands. "There, there, cousin. I did not mean to insult you."

  "I know." Harry twisted his mouth, beyond annoyed with Dungald. Now he was angry. "You ask only out of the goodness of your concern for Dunnane."

  "Of course."

  "Harry." Ian came out of the great hall.

  "Here," Harry called. He was relieved to see Ian. Ian would know what to do. How to apologize to Kara.

  "Well, I... Congratulations to you, my lord," Dungald said quickly, passing Harry, going in the opposite direction from which Ian came.

  "What did he want?" Ian asked, watching Dungald hurry into the darkness.

  Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Don't care." His shoulders sagged. "I think I'll let her calm down and then go to her." He looked up at his brother for support. "What do you think? She's never thrown anything at me, but there is always a first time."

  Ian smiled grimly and patted his shoulder. "Wise thought, brother. I wouldn't want Kara throwing things at me either. My guess is, she's a fine aim."

  * * *

  "Ye appear swiftly when I call," Dungald said. He and the hired man stood just inside the entrance to the tunnel that led to the catacombs below the castle. Many years' growth of underbrush and a copse of trees disguised the entrance.

  "I am not camped far." The man whose face remained obscured in the darkness scuffed a boot in the soft dirt. "What do ye want? I take it ye've brought coin."

  Dungald thrust out his hand and dropped a small, clinking sack into the other man's palm. "A portion of your payment" Most he had won gambling; a few coins he had pilfered from the castle, but not enough to be missed.

  The man repeatedly tossed the sack up and watched it fall to his hand. "What else have ye but this? You take me from a warm bed, a bed I do not occupy alone."

  Dungald drew his cloak closer. The wind outside tonight was bitter and howling. He needed a drink badly. His hands were shaking, not just from the palsy. Shaking.

  The chit, Kara, was with child. If a son, he would become the next Earl of Dunnane. Dungald's breath quickened as panic rose in his chest. There would be more children; she would whelp them like one of the castle's bitch hounds. Dungald would never hold the earldom, not if he didn't make haste.

  "Have ye hired enough men yet?"

  "Of course I have hired a sufficient number. What kind of man do you think I am?"

  "I think you are a thief and a mercenary."

  The man cracked a smile. "That I am, but one with principles." He chuckled. "Principles of my own, 'tis all." He eyed Dungald. "Now, you are guaranteeing that we fight only the men within the castle. Others will not come to the boy's aid?"

  "Others? Others who? They hate him! No one in the countryside believes the boy is fit to rule."

  "Word has traveled of the MacFae-Gordon settlement." The man shook his head, still chuckling. "Many are saying the boy laid down the smartest ruling he could have. It should have been done years ago. Neither side has right to complain. Some are beginning to see some merit to the child."

  "Ridiculous!" Dungald scoffed. "Enough talk. I have not the time for this. You do as you're told. Gather your army and come when you are called. Serve as the diversion you have been instructed to be and then get the hell off Dunnane land. Do ye understand me?"

  When the man did not answer right away, Dungald jabbed a pointed finger into the folds of his Dunnane plaid. "This is what is rightfully due to me. It is what is best for the Gordons. The castle should have gone to me. Should have been my father's before me. It is my father, Henry, who kept these walls standing all those years while that brat's father chased women and dreams." His last words were so frenzied that his hand fell into a shaking spasm and he had to draw it into his cloak to steady it.

  The man stood for a moment, and though Dungald could not see his face, he knew he was staring at him. "Next time we meet, this bag will be filled with no paltry sum. Do I make myself clear, my lord?"

  "Ye shall have your coin," Dungald said beneath his breath as he turned away. "And my father shall finally have justice."

  * * *

  "I'm sorry," Harry said carefully.

  She sank onto the edge of her bed. "Nae." She was tired. So worn, not just physically, but emotionally. "I'm so sorry. I should not have behaved so. I should not have shouted at you in front of the others. That was a terrible thing to say. I don't know what came over me." She glanced up at him. "I didn't mean it to come out that way."

  Harry walked toward her slowly, as if he feared she might explode into another tirade, perhaps throw something at him. "Forgotten. I take no offense. And you were right. We agreed we would not tell of the babe. I knew that. Why didn't matter." He splayed his hands. "But I was excited about the day. I was full of myself; I did not think before I spoke."

  He sank a fist into his hand. "I must learn to think before I speak. I know that. I cannot lord over these people if I cannot be more prudent."

  She couldn't resist the smile a mother smiles when her child has learned a lesson the hard way."'Tis really nothing to be upset about. They would all know soon enough." She laughed, hearing the tiredness in her own voice. "Look at me. I'm already growing fat."

  "Not fat." He sat on the edge of her bed beside her. "I think you're beautiful," he said shyly. "I always will."

  "I'm just overly emotional, Harry. 'Tis the way women get when they are with child, I'm told." She glanced at him seated beside her. "This really is my fault. I feel so bad."

  "It wasn't all your fault, but let us move on. Forgotten, forgiven. Now they know, and now I must take extra precautions. You and the baby must be watched and kept safe. I could not stand to see any harm come to you because of me."

  She felt a warm flush of tenderness. Harry might be young, but he was growing to be quite a man. He would make a good ruler; she was certain of it.

  Harry covered her hand with his. "We need not talk of this tonight. You look tired. You should be abed."

  "I am tired," she confessed. "I should have known better than to come down. I should have stayed here in my rooms and kept my mouth shut."

  He smiled. "Then let me call Isla to help you into your sleeping clothes." He rose, reluctantly releasing her hand.

  With him standing and her sitting, he appeared tall, almost manly. He was watching over her, watching out for her. It felt good to be cared for, after all the years of always caring for others.

  She ran one hand through her hair, making no attempt to rise. She thought she might just be too tired to stand again tonight. She watched as he crossed the room and laid his hand on Isla's door. Suddenly she didn't want him to go.

  "Harry?"

  "Aye?" He turned back to her.

  "Will you stay with me? Just until I sleep?" She didn't know why she said it, or why she felt this way. All she knew was that she needed someone. Needed him.

  His gaze met hers. "I would stay at your bedside through the night, if you asked."

  She smiled and lay back on the bed to wait for Isla, thinking what a lucky woman she was to call Harry her friend.

  Chapter 24

  Harry stood on the parapet, the wind whipping at his shoulder-length blond hair. He pressed his hands to the low wall and stared out over the gray countryside. "Looks like snow," he said thoughtfully.

  But Kara did not think he was thinking about snow. His youthful face was too solemn, his lips drawn too tight.

  "March snow," he mused. "My father always said he liked March snow—it cleansed the land and made the way for the green of spring."

  Kara drew her cloak close over her obviously rounded belly. Six months gone, the baby was now lively; rolling, kicking, making ripples across her extended abdomen. Harry liked to lay his hand on her belly and feel the baby move. Ian loved to lie in her bed at night, his head nestled between her breasts with one hand on her abdomen. It was an odd relationship she and her two men had created, but it seemed to work. Everyone seemed to be content, as content as they could be, considering the circumstances.

  K
ara was relieved to find Harry here on the parapet. She had searched for him everywhere, searched long enough that she had begun to grow concerned. When she could not find him inside the castle walls, she had checked the barns and the mews. She had even sent one of the men into the catacombs below to see that he had not gone to the wine cellar or elsewhere. It was Isla who had guessed where Harry might be.

  "I was worried when I couldn't find you," she said.

  He gave her a half smile, though she could tell she still did not have his full attention. "Ye shouldn't worry over me, Kara, not in your condition."

  "Not in my condition!" She leaned on the wall beside him to see the same view he saw, knowing she never truly could. She wondered what he had been thinking about up here alone. "I'm as fit as one of the mares in your stable. I certainly eat like one."

  He rested his hand casually on her hip. "Eat through my larders if you wish, Lady Dunnane, whatever it takes to keep you and the babe healthy and happy."

  She was quiet for a moment, enjoying the moment alone with Harry. He had been busy these last two months. Men had been called in to serve their duty to him, but they had not spent their time eating and drinking in the great hall. Instead Harry had ordered training sessions. The men had practiced fighting hand-to-hand, following orders. They had reviewed loading the costly firearms Dunnane possessed, and practiced firing them accurately. And Harry drilled beside them. He asked nothing of his clansmen that he did not do himself. Ian told Kara privately that he was a quick learner and would turn out to be an excellent leader. With time and experience, he would become a fighter to be reckoned with, should the need arise. Kara was so proud of him, as was Ian.

  For the last few months the lands and families that fell under Dunnane's jurisdiction had existed in a strange state of unrest. The cattle reivers continued to steal, not just from Dunnane, but from other landowners as well. Families fought amongst themselves, constantly bringing quarrels to the earl. The men fought amongst each other and they fought Dunnane, rarely with any definitive reason for the unrest. It was almost as if they were all in a great pot and something or someone was constantly putting them in a stir. The climate made Ian uncomfortable and apparently Harry as well. It made Kara fear for the men she loved, the life they seemed to be carving out for themselves within these ancient walls.