Christmas in the Highlands: Anthology with 2 Stories

by Madelyn Hill

  Shouts in the distance assured they were near.

  Near to the keep, and her destiny.

  Mairi gripped her hand as she was wont to do when she slept. Such dreams she had for her child. Even after Daniel was slain, Rossalyn always pushed for a better life for her dear lass. Hiding her from the evilness of the clan, the utter filth that seemed to cloak the keep and the minds of the men inside. Aye, they’d stayed cloistered in her chamber as much as possible. But they’d been safe.

  Until Laird Malcolm Sutherland had arrived and offered her a ray of hope, a promise of a better future, the lovely idea of celebrating Christmas. Tears blurred her vision and she wiped at them. They didn’t need much, nay, they just needed to be safe.

  And for wee Mairi, a Christmas celebration she’d never forget, whether she be on Sutherland soil or banished to Gordon Keep.

  “Wife,” a voice growled outside the wagon.

  She held back a sigh, in no condition to spar with the man who confused her so. One moment he held her in his arms and her blood surged with longing, desire. The next he turned cold as mountain stone. All because she’d omitted to tell him. Och, how she regretted her actions. Why hadn’t she done so before they left the keep?

  Simply, because she feared he’d refuse her and make her remain with her father.

  When her gaze met his, the icy glare had her gripping her daughter and freezing in place.

  “I’d like to speak to you, wife,” he demanded.

  Dear Lord, the way he said wife was as if he called to the devil. Mairi moved restlessly as if she’d heard the laird speak, but blessedly remained asleep.

  Rossalyn scooted to the end of the wagon and the laird held out a hand to help her exit. She jerked when their hands touched.

  “We will arrive and you will take your place at my side.”

  Her heart raced. Had he forgiven her? Did she dare hope God had answered her prayers?

  “Thank you,” she whispered as tears clogged her throat. “I can’t tell you—”

  He held up his palm to stop her from speaking. His jaw clenched and a foreboding scowl turned down his mouth. “Do not thank me. I am not doing this for you, but for my clan.”

  Rossalyn shrank back. For his clan.

  Aye, she imagined ‘twas his first consideration. But a small part of her wished he were doing it for them. Foolish, but her hope had been the only thing she could cling to, it had helped her keep Mairi quiet, and set her mind on their future at Sutherland Keep.

  “I vow,” he said in a low, husky rumble, “if I learn of any more deceit, I’ll return you to your father. We are wed, but ‘tis all. I will not seek your counsel or your bed.”

  She glanced up at him in surprise. Her worst fears were realized, for now she’d be living with a man who loathed her, just as her father had. Laird Sutherland peered at her with a heavy dose of disdain when just a few hours ago he had gazed upon her with desire.

  He’d not shaven in several days and his beard’s growth darkened the edge of his strong jaw. Dangerous and incredibly handsome, his eyes darkened to nearly black. As he stepped aside, his kilt swayed, revealing legs thick with muscle.

  The Gordon men were lazy, more apt to pick up a tumbler of ale than a practice sword. ‘Twas part of the reason her father needed the alliance with Sutherland.

  And the man hated her, ‘twas obvious in his gaze and his words.

  With one last glance, he strode to his steed.

  Chilled, she rubbed her hands along her arms.

  He never looked back. Her spirit broke along with her heart.

  They rode into the keep amid grand applause. She peeked out of the wagon as clansmen cheered their laird’s arrival.

  The keep rose from the mountain as if it were a mighty oak sprouting from stone. The palisade gate was open and the travelers entered. As the wagon stopped, she moved to gather their meager belongings.

  Cam helped her and Mairi exit the wagon. He avoided her gaze and she was thankful for it. “A maid will show you to your chamber. M’laird said you needn’t join him for the evening meal.”

  Taken aback, she sought Malcolm’s tall form. He spared her a glance then continued talking to those gathered around him. She assumed the clansmen would be curious about her. Surely, the redheaded woman had spread word of her arrival. Such a large clan with men and women of all ages, they smiled and laughed, obviously pleased their laird had arrived back home safely.

  ‘Twas utterly shameful he didn’t introduce her immediately. Flustered, she nodded to Cam. ‘Twould not bode well to disregard her husband’s edict by going to the evening meal. However, she wanted to make an impression on the clan and assure them she would be a good lady of the keep. “We’re ready to see our chamber,” she said with her chin up and a straight back. She gripped Mairi’s hand and squeezed.

  Her daughter looked up at her with solemn eyes. Fear trembled her lips. ‘Twas what Rossalyn worried would happen. Just when she was trying to do the best for them, the circumstances changed and now they were being treated exactly the way she had feared.

  Cam nodded. His cheeks flushed red and his throat bobbed as if he were thinking of something to say. Aye, well, at least she wasn’t the only one embarrassed by the laird’s actions.

  He guided them toward the main entrance of the keep and said, “M’laird will see you in the morn.”

  She stared at the broad doors before them. Somewhere behind those doors was her new home. A chamber for her and Mairi, a main hall, more rooms; a kitchen. A true home she wanted to embrace.

  “Aye,” she barely managed before she was forced to swallow back tears. The clan must think her a horrid lady, to be sure. She paused and looked over her shoulder at the growing crowd of clansmen surrounding Laird Sutherland. Should she ignore his wishes and move to his side? Show the clan she was to be their lady and she’d work beside their laird despite the fact he loathed her?

  “M’lady?”

  Cam stood watching her with compassionate eyes. “You’ll join m’laird on the morrow.”

  She cast a wistful glance back at Malcolm and those gathered near him. The fiery-haired woman—Fiona—stood on the outskirts of the crowd, her arms crossed before her chest and a scowl clearly etched on her face. Such hateful intensity could be felt across the bailey. Rossalyn narrowed her gaze and observed the woman for a moment before heeding Cam’s and her husband’s directive and heading toward her new chamber.

  They received curious glances from the few who hadn’t ventured to greet their laird. She felt Cam nod toward each person they passed, but he didn’t stop or attempt to explain her presence. They must think the situation odd, to be sure.

  Cam opened the chamber door and she nearly squealed with glee. ‘Twas lovely, and after the rough traveling of the past days, a welcome respite. Mairi rushed to the large bed and promptly began jumping upon its surface. Rossalyn laughed and allowed her daughter to have fun after so many days in a wagon. For a moment her troubles seemed to be at bay, off her mind, something to be thought upon on another day. Surely, tomorrow would suit.

  The large bed was covered with blankets and pillows. A chest of drawers sat against one wall and rugs and skins covered the stone floor to protect their feet from the cold. A huge fireplace warmed the room to toasty and she appreciated its size, as well as thankfulness that someone had remembered to light the fire when they arrived.

  A maid entered, followed by some lads with buckets of water. Ah, a proper bath would make her feel more like herself. She didn’t ken if she could talk Mairi into one, but she’d try her hardest. The lass wore the dust of the road about her.

  Shivers of awareness trickled over her and she turned toward the door. There stood her husband, leaning lazily against the opening, peering at her with those dark eyes of his.

  The lads left to gather
more water and the maid scurried to fetch them tea and a slight repast.

  And still he stood there watching, his expression unreadable.

  “May I help you, m’laird?”

  He shook his head and stared as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. “I will allow you to settle. Rest and do not even think of coming down for the evening meal. I’ll introduce you on the morrow.” While his tone was soft, there was warning beneath it and the hard line of his jaw stopped her from arguing.

  Still, it bothered her she wouldn’t join the clan for the evening meal. “Won’t they wonder why we do not join them?”

  “They will not question their laird,” was all he said before he turned and strode off.

  She moved to the doorway, as he left without a glance behind him. She gripped the door to stop herself from following him. He’d made his opinion obvious.

  Worry plagued her as she thought upon their fate. If Laird Sutherland remained cold, distant, wouldn’t they be better off elsewhere? She’d lived in a keep filled with hatred and violence. While she didn’t worry about physical discourse, the indifference her husband had shown her smarted, biting her at the core. Truly she didn’t think she could stand to live that way once again.

  The maid and lads darted in and out of the chamber in a flurry of activity. Finally, Rossalyn closed the door and leaned upon it.

  “Time for a bath, my love.”

  Mairi continued to jump up and down on the bed. “Nay.”

  “Mairi, ‘twill be quick and then you can eat.”

  She moved to the table and picked up the linen covering the meal. “There is shortbread.”

  Her daughter stopped jumping and climbed off the bed. “Shortbread?”

  “Bath first.” She chuckled when her daughter pulled a face. “Mairi.”

  “Aye, Mother.”

  She quickly bathed Mairi, determined her wee lass would smile and laugh instead of feeling worry. As she rinsed Mairi’s hair, Rossalyn decided to share what her husband had told her, hoping her daughter would be as excited as she was. “The Laird said we’ll celebrate Christmas.”

  Mairi splashed the water with excitement. “Truly?”

  “Aye.” She mopped up the water sloshing over the sides of the hip tub. Mayhap she shouldn’t have told Mairi, but seeing her so happy was worth it. If Laird Sutherland asked them to leave, she’d beg him to allow them to stay until after the season. Aye, she’d beg. “And dancing and singing.” Her daughter’s joy was infectious. “And a table full of sweets!”

  Mairi’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “A whole table?”

  She laughed. “Aye, my love. Now dry off and we’ll eat.”

  While Mairi was excited about Christmas, the day had worn her out. Her eyes kept closing as she ate, mostly shortbread, ignoring the roasted carrots and beef stew. Rossalyn couldn’t blame her; she was almost too tired to eat herself.

  Once they were finished and dressed in sleeping gowns, she guided her daughter toward the bed. While thoughts of the past fortnight tumbled about in her mind, she tidied the chamber. Folding Mairi’s dress, she pondered the need for more clothing. Winter was just starting and their present wardrobe would never keep them warm.

  “Mother, a story,” Mairi called as she climbed into bed with Rossalyn’s help.

  “Aye, my love.” She wiped away the tears wetting her cheeks, then smiled, trying to put on a brave front. Her daughter didn’t need to hear her worries. “What would you like me to tell you?”

  Mairi thought for a moment, tipped her head to the side and said, “A princess story.”

  Rossalyn sighed. Her daughter was forever thinking of princes and princesses. As had she, once.

  Despite his faults, Daniel had been kind and loving. He took care of them, protected them. So much so, he’d been slain because of his heroism. He was her prince.

  Would her new husband be princely?

  The hope Laird Sutherland had inspired was gone. She kenned he’d turn them out, return her to her father, even though he’d said he’d introduce her on the morrow. Her—their—deceit was too much. ‘Twas what she deserved for going along with her father’s scheme when she learned about it. But Mairi? Her lass deserved the best, better than she’d done over the years.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, cleared her throat, and began the story of the princess on the beautiful white horse. Within a thrice, Mairi was asleep.

  Rossalyn stared at the high, beamed ceiling, wondering, worrying, wasting time being thoroughly annoyed with her new husband. She had no right, aye, she kenned. But she’d hoped they’d be together before the clan. Right before he’d mentioned they would be celebrating Christmas, Malcolm had said he wanted her to be a true lady of the keep. Now, she hadn’t a notion if she’d be sent back to Gordon Keep or if Malcolm planned to ignore her, never making her truly his.

  And she wasn’t certain which would be worse.

  Chapter 7

  Eyeing the wooden door before him, Malcolm scrubbed his hand over his face and exhaled wearily. He’d tossed and turned the entire night, vexed at himself that Rossalyn plagued his thoughts.

  And her daughter. He couldn’t get the lass’s eyes out of his mind.

  Now he stood outside her chamber, trying to determine if he was going to knock on the door or head to the training yard to work with his men. More like work out his frustration in a sparring session with Cam or one of the others. Aye, Cam would do.

  Cam had been blunt in his censure of Malcolm’s behavior. But damn, he loathed the dishonesty. It festered deep and forgiveness was mayhap too much to expect from him.

  Bollocks, he was a fool. His friend’s words resonated, what he’d said about Gordon and the keep; about Rossalyn being a gentle woman who deserved better.

  Mayhap she did, but could he see past the untruths? Or would he always look at her through a haze of distrust? If only she’d been honest with him. Right when they stood near the wagon, as they stared at each other and couldn’t help but reach out and touch. ‘Twould have been the perfect time to share what her father did.

  She’d remained silent.

  Why?

  He rapped on the door.

  It creaked open and Rossalyn peeked out at him.

  All of his rage flew from his mind.

  Her black hair hung mussed around her face and her blue eyes glimmered in the early morning light. A rosy blush graced her creamy cheeks.

  He opened his mouth to speak and no words came forth. He scraped his fingers over his scalp and gazed at her as she eyed him with uncertainty.

  “We need to gather mistletoe,” he all but growled and then wondered what had prompted him to talk about mistletoe. Mayhap the lovely, sleepy look of her. Or her dewy skin and those beguiling eyes.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Aye.” She shut the door, then quickly opened it again. “I’m sorry, m’laird.” A scarlet blush raced up her neck and over her face as she stepped back and allowed him entry.

  He entered and saw her daughter was already breaking her fast while propped up with numerous pillows in the large bed. The pillows and bedding nearly engulfed her. His mouth twitched, entertained by the way the wee lass acted as if she were queen.

  ‘Twas a strange set of circumstances. He’d never thought to be responsible for a child before he’d even consummated his marriage. He wanted a wife, bairns of his own, but in time and without the duplicity.

  Damn, if only she’d been truthful. If only she’d not lied to him like his former betrothed. How her unfaithfulness stuck in his gut.

  He never wanted to experience the pain again. ‘Twas why he searched for a chaste wife who’d assure necessities as part of the marriage contract, such as the promise of food stores Rossalyn was supposed to have brought. ‘Twas why he pledged not to allow
his heart to dictate his actions. Only his clan’s needs ruled his desire to wed.

  If only Rossalyn didn’t look at him that way. Soulful. Sad. He glanced away, then his eyes were drawn to her again.

  She reminded him of his mother. A bit of feistiness, but bountiful of heart and love for her child. His beautiful mother had been full of life. She’d deviled his father so; he’d down a dram of whiskey in the morning just to stay ahead of her merriment all day.

  When Rossalyn moved toward the bed, all his good humor, borne of his memories, faded as he was once again reminded of her deceit and how she’d made a fool of him.

  Rossalyn clutched her hands before her as her gaze flickered between him and her daughter. “I promised Mairi a special treat today.”

  He nodded. Aye, ‘twould have been difficult to keep a lass such as Mairi quiet for the entire trip from Gordon Keep to Sutherland. And now looking at her, eating and grinning from ear to ear, he almost felt sorry for his harsh words. Then she frowned.

  What the devil was wrong?

  Malcolm stepped forward and settled his hands at his hips. The lass continued to frown at him.

  He felt Rossalyn step close. “Mayhap if you didn’t scowl so, m’laird.”

  “I’m not scowling,” he protested.

  Mairi’s bottom lip trembled and he grimaced, then worked to remove any scowl from his face. “No matter. Ensure the lass is dressed warmly.”

  Ensure the lass is dressed warmly. Did the amadan think she was a liar and a poor excuse of a mother? Rossalyn tossed her hands in the air and grumbled while she gathered Mairi’s warmest clothing.

  The selection was sparse, so she layered several items. Mayhap Laird Sutherland would provide material for her to make clothing for Mairi before he turned them out.

  While she was looking forward to gathering mistletoe—‘twas the sign of Christmas, after all—the idea of spending the day with Laird Sutherland unsettled her. The man was in a foul mood and obviously still vexed with her.