Christmas in the Highlands: Anthology with 2 Stories

by Madelyn Hill

  At last they were headed to a better place. But if her father broke his pledge to Laird Sutherland, where would she and Mairi go? For surely her new laird would banish her when her father failed to keep his word. And when he discovered Mairi, he might even do worse.

  “Stay hidden, my love,” she whispered to her daughter. A bright grin filled Mairi’s face. Och, such a sweet lass.

  “Are you well, m’lady?”

  She started at her husband’s voice. “Aye.” Her heart pounding against her chest, she moved toward him lest his gaze rest on Mairi. She’d nestled their bags as if they were a little wall between her daughter and the front of the wagon. ‘Twas a fool’s errand to attempt such a secret. But to keep them safe and away from her father and his lecherous men, she had to try.

  Sean, her father’s steward, had made comments for the past few months about her mourning period being done, insinuating the laird would expect her to marry—mayhap him, he’d say with a snide grin. Not that she didn’t want a man in her life, but ‘twas the worry her father would marry her off to one of his men. Och, ‘twould be wretched to marry a clansman with missing teeth and a paunch which hung over his tartan.

  Yet her father had married her off—to a stranger. Which was worse, she wondered, Laird Sutherland or the steward? ‘Twas a case of the devil you ken, but as she looked at her husband, she suspected the steward would have been the worst option possible.

  The laird propped himself against the wagon and she desperately looked for something or someone to distract him away from the bundle near the back. Then he touched her hand. Her gaze seeking his, she moved forward, nearly melting into the kindness she saw reflected in their depths. Surely, he wasn’t like the steward?

  “I thought I heard you speaking to someone,” he said.

  Heat flooded her face as she ducked her gaze. “I was speaking to myself.”

  He chuckled and tipped up her chin. “I’ve been known to do that as well. Ask my men.”

  A sense of ease washed over her, something warm and comforting. “How far is your keep?”

  “At least five days.” As he spoke, he swept his thumb back and forth along her arm. She shivered from the pleasure of it and his cocksure grin told her he’d felt her tremble.

  Though she nodded at his answer, dread filled her. The journey’s length meant an impossible amount of time to hide her daughter. If her calculations were correct, they’d leave Gordon lands in just over a day or two. Mayhap, if she prayed hard enough, God would keep Mairi safe until she could explain the situation to Laird Sutherland. Consequences be damned, her daughter was her first concern and he’d have to understand her actions.

  “Rossalyn.”

  She closed her eyes. The way he said her name—reverent, with a deep huskiness, left her a little breathless. “Aye,” she whispered.

  “Look at me.”

  When she complied, he continued, “I want to assure you that we will celebrate our marriage at my keep.”

  She furrowed her brow. Did he truly mean that? Och, ‘twould be a miracle if he did.

  “I do not want you to fear me. We need time to learn each other.”

  Relief flooded her. Mayhap she’d be able to keep Mairi a secret longer than she thought. She smiled up at him. “You are a good man, Laird Sutherland.” She meant the words, and hoped his goodness would remain when he determined her secret.

  He offered a wry grin. “Call me Malcolm. You are my wife, no matter if we have yet to be intimate.”

  Joy filled her and a bit of trust grew for this Highlander. Could her luck be changing? Would it be possible to live her life with an honorable man? Not that Daniel wasn’t honorable, but his dealings, the trades he’d made and the way he vexed her father, had made their life tenuous. And when he tried to protect her against her father’s wrath, her father had killed him.

  Rossalyn’s breath hitched. “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand.

  His gaze softened and tiny wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes. Och, ‘twas a handsome trait, those little lines. Malcolm brushed his hand along her cheek. “We have the rest of our lives together.”

  How sweet those words sounded to her. The rest of their lives. As much as she tried not to, she pinned hope on his words, that such hope might aid her in the days to come.

  One of his men called out and it appeared as if the caravan of horses and wagons was ready to leave.

  “I will check on you soon.” His gaze held hers and the promise of their future lay heady in his brown eyes. He kissed her brow and moved to mount his horse.

  She watched him go with an odd sort of longing to be with him, riding beside him as they left Gordon territory together and swept further into Sutherland land. Impossible, she kenned, but something pulled at her regardless.

  She climbed into the wagon and after nestling her sleeping daughter toward her, settled in as the creak of the wagon wheels told her they were on the move.

  Her gaze lit on Mairi’s lovely face. Such a dear child, so sweet and innocent, with the ability to fall asleep within a thrice. Her pert nose wrinkled and she snuggled closer. Rossalyn sighed and gently brushed the child’s unruly curls behind her ear. She was Daniel’s daughter, to be sure, with his wide eyes that held a twinkle of mischief and his strong cheek and brow.

  Och, her heart ached at the memories of her husband. And how her father had reacted when Daniel questioned the laird’s treatment of her. She’d begged him. Begged him to stop fighting. She’d witnessed her father’s wrath too many times to count and it was always harsh and swift.

  But Daniel wanted to protect her . . . them. ‘Twas his duty, he’d vowed, when he reached for his sword and her father had grabbed for his.

  How Daniel had been goaded into making the first move! He had parried, but her father was an expert swordsman and her dear husband was not. The men of the clan cheered the fight and were no help in stopping it. Wagers were set, drinks raised. The bastards.

  And when he’d cleaved her husband in two, her father had lived up to his ruthless reputation. Worse, he accepted congratulations from the clansmen as Daniel lay bleeding in the middle of the main hall.

  She had tried to use her skirt to stop the blood flow, to no avail. Her husband was gone. Forever gone, cut down by his own laird without a second thought. Her father cared naught of Daniel’s life and hers, or—most importantly—that of his granddaughter’s.

  The memories wrought tears of frustration. She swiped at them, whisked them away as she tried to look forward to leaving the troublesome past of Gordon Keep behind her.

  She peered out the back of the wagon as her childhood home became smaller and smaller. Despite the wretched memories, new hope settled in and took root in her heart.

  “I’ll make sure your life is better, my love. I promise.”

  Aye, she owed it to her daughter and the memory of her dead husband.

  Chapter 4

  The night sky nearly spilled over with twinkling stars, the very air quiet, save the rustle of dry leaves still hanging on for dear life in the burgeoning winter weather.

  Rossalyn peeked from her wagon to assure all were abed and thus safe for her to bring Mairi to the small creek burbling nearby. ‘Twas a difficult task keeping such a wee lass quiet and hidden when her daughter was full of babble about their adventure and yearned to join the men near the fire.

  She had to promise great things to her daughter when they reached the keep, and could only hope they had a grand supply of ponies and sweets.

  “Shhh, my love,” she warned. She tucked the child within the material of her gown and they snuck through the small thicket of trees surround the camp. Ah, the water called to her no matter its frigid state. They were used to rustic accommodations, but had enjoyed bathing nearly every day, even if Rossalyn had to cart the water herself.
And it had been several days since they’d left the keep.

  “Mother, can I swim?”

  She smiled despite her rattled nerves. “Nay, my love, but we can quickly bathe.”

  “I hate baths.”

  Aye, ‘twas the truth of it. The lass often balked when she had to bathe. “When we reach the keep, I promise you we will have the most delicious sweets you can imagine.”

  Mairi squeezed her hand. “With honey?”

  She ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Aye, with honey.”

  “M’lady?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed, then quickly pulled her gown tighter around Mairi. How did she expect Laird Sutherland not to have men patrolling the area? If she wasn’t careful, he’d learn of her daughter and Rossalyn would have to plead with him to not send them back.

  She held her finger to her lips to silence Mairi. “I’m bathing.”

  The steps quickly retreated. “Sorry I am, m’lady.”

  They finished quickly and she kept Mairi partially behind her as she walked. Before they entered the camp, a quick look told her the guard was nowhere to be seen. After she sighed with relief, they snuck back into the wagon.

  She spoke softly to her daughter and the child fell asleep within a thrice. Not used to sitting all day in a wagon, Rossalyn went to warm herself by the fire on the opposite side of the camp.

  “You could not sleep?”

  For a man his size, he certainly moved quietly. “Nay,” she said to her husband.

  He sat beside her and held out a tumbler. She took a sip of ale, relishing the drink as it filled her stomach. Her father’s steward had let the ale spoil more times than not and she’d taken to drinking freshly drawn milk or water from the well. No matter how many times she asked her father if she could oversee the kitchen and the ale, he refused and would send her back to her chamber. ‘Twas as if he preferred to live within the punishing squalor.

  He nodded toward her wagon. “The guard said you bathed in the creek?”

  ‘Twas more of a statement than a question. “Aye.”

  He stared at her, his brow furrowed. “‘Tisn’t safe. Next time tell me and I’ll ensure naught happens to you.”

  She tilted her head to the side as she regarded him. It had been so long since someone had wanted to protect her. Too long. “I assure you I was very safe.”

  His frown deepened. “I protect what is mine.”

  Rossalyn waited a moment, thinking she wasn’t going to win this argument. But this would make things with Mairi much more difficult. She was torn. She loved how he wanted to protect her, but loathed having to be guarded for her every movement while she attempted to keep her secret. Och, ‘twas an impossible feat, keeping her daughter hidden. “Aye, m’laird.”

  He nodded and a pleased smile curled his lips. “You will have my mother’s chamber when we return. You will enjoy her room.”

  She drew her brows upward. “Where will she go?”

  He looked toward the fire, then said, “My mother died last year and my father shortly after.” His voice roughened, tensed. His jaw clenched as his gaze held on the flames of the burning fire. She kenned her husband’s thoughts bittersweet as he remembered his parents, their time together and sadly, their death.

  She touched his arm, her heart aching at his pain. There was so much to learn about the man. “I’m so sorry.”

  His shoulders had stiffened. “‘Twas an illness that felled many of the elder clansmen.” He tossed another log onto the fire.

  The warmth from the flames felt as comforting as his arms when he pulled her closer and protected her from the force of the buffeting wind.

  “I lost my mother as well.” She shuddered at the thought, the death of her mother still as fresh as if it happened the eve before. “I miss her keenly.”

  “Aye.” He kissed the top of her head and she resisted the urge to pull away.

  Such intimacy was unfamiliar to her, not unwelcome, but unaccustomed. And even as she craved a man’s caress, she’d been so long without compassion and desire, she still startled a bit at his touch. Here was a man she barely kenned, even though she was drawn to him more than her initial attraction to Daniel. When she was near Malcolm, her belly heated and her heart longed for a grin or even his gaze to seek hers.

  This seemed too fast and fiery, when her marriage to Daniel had been a slow courtship. While she loved him, she kenned they didn’t share a consuming passion for each other. He was her friend and confidant, and then her husband and lover. When Mairi was born they grew closer, mayhap due to the need to protect her, since together they were stronger.

  Now she whispered, “After my mother passed on Christmas Eve, my father changed. He’s . . . he’s been a wretched man since.” And she had lived in fear for her family’s life since that fateful day. Especially once Daniel had died. There was no one to champion them and stand up to her father. No one to ensure they had fresh meat and other food stores. ‘Twas why she started hunting for rabbit or grouse when possible.

  Och, food stores. She should tell Malcolm her father was untrustworthy, but by the way he’d spoken to her father and his men, Laird Sutherland might already ken exactly who her father was. And if anyone could force Laird Gordon to keep his end of the bargain, somehow she knew ‘twas her husband and his men.

  Before her mother’s death, they’d celebrated Christmas with food, dancing, and gifts. Och, the Yule log was so large, it would burn for days. And she’d giggled when she witnessed couples kissing beneath the large mistletoe balls.

  Her mother and father would observe the clan, pride shining on their faces. They provided gifts to all, small trinkets and shortbread, but so appreciated by everyone. ‘Twas some of her fondest memories, some of the only memories which had kept her sane after her mother’s and Daniel’s deaths. Dear God Almighty, she’d held onto them, wrapped those memories around her, and tried to not allow her father to ruin her life.

  Her reverie was interrupted when some of Malcolm’s men approached to warm by the fire. He stood and she shivered. Should she tell him she wanted him beside her? Or would her boldness embarrass him before his men? ‘Twas hard to think when she didn’t ken well enough to discern his moods, likes, and dislikes.

  “Sorry, m’laird. We didnae ken the lady was awake.”

  She glanced to the ground. Now she was embarrassed. “I’ll take my leave.”

  He held out his hand and grinned. “I will escort you.”

  She worried her lip. Dare she say no? And if she did, wouldn’t he suspect her behavior?

  “M’laird! ‘Tis a rider approaching.”

  She sighed with relief. Her secret would keep for another night.

  Malcolm stiffened and she felt the strain of his muscles as if they turned to stone. He glanced at her and his jaw clenched. She nodded to give him leave. He squeezed her hand and bade one of his men to look after her. Taking up his sword, with a few strong strides he was away from the camp and heading toward an unknown danger.

  A pang, of worry and fear, clenched her chest as he disappeared through the trees.

  “M’lady,” Malcolm’s man said, “‘twould be better for ye in the wagon.”

  Aye, she knew her daughter was safe, but what of her new laird? Would the fates be so cruel as to steal another husband from her? She prayed for Malcolm’s safety, begged the dear Lord to bring him back to her and in that fleeting moment, she promised to tell him the truth, no matter the cost.

  ‘Twas only a farmer looking for his sheep.

  Malcolm swiped at the back of his neck. If he never set foot off Sutherland land again, ‘twould be too soon. When he’d heard that a rider approached, he wondered if Gordon had sent men to fetch Rossalyn back.

  His gut dropped. He vowed never to let her go, and damned if he didn’t want to rush
back to camp just to gaze upon her and listen to her speak. Her voice seemed to entwine with his thoughts, hypnotizing him. Soft in tone, but husky.

  And it fascinated as well as plagued him.

  How could a woman capture his attention so completely in such a short time? Especially since he’d been determined to marry because he must, but his heart—well, ‘twas his alone. The marriage would be one of necessity. They’d find comfort with each other, for their attraction was obvious and he would be a faithful and kind husband; a provider for their bairns if they were so blessed.

  But she’d never have his heart.

  He had pledged it as so.

  His honor was at stake. If he allowed another woman to trifle with his heart, love him and then scorn him, his men wouldn’t respect him. His clan wouldn’t respect him. And he’d rather die than lose the respect of the Sutherlands.

  “M’Laird,” Cam said with a slightly mocking tone, as if he knew what Malcolm was thinking and pitied him for it.

  “Let’s return to the camp. We’ve a long ride ahead of us.”

  His man hesitated, then fell into step beside him. “Aye, m’laird.”

  Malcolm nearly rolled his eyes as he stopped walking and settled his fists on his hips. “Speak your mind.”

  Cam chuckled. “She’s a beauty, to be sure.”

  ‘Twas his turn to grin. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen with her dark as night hair and those clear, sapphire eyes. “Aye.”