Christmas in the Highlands: Anthology with 2 Stories

by Madelyn Hill

  Why had he even bothered to ask them to come along if her presence so bothered him? Men were contrary sorts.

  “Let’s go, pet.” She gathered Mairi’s hand and they headed toward the main hall.

  Curious glances met them as they descended the stairs. She gripped the railing with shaking fingers and her stomach roiled until she feared she’d lose the scone she’d eaten to break her fast. Regardless, she straightened her shoulders and firmed her chin.

  A small woman approached them. She had a friendly smile and warm presence about her. “M’laird would like ye to meet him in the bailey, m’lady.”

  “Thank you—”

  The woman waved at her. “Och, me manners. Brae is me name, m’lady.”

  She smiled and nodded to the woman. “‘Tis a pleasure to meet you. My daughter, Mairi.”

  “A bonnie lass, to be sure.” The woman bade them good day and scuttled toward the kitchen.

  “Shall we, my love?” she asked with more bravado than she felt.

  “Aye.” Her daughter bubbled with enthusiasm.

  Rossalyn laughed despite her nerves. As they paced toward the bailey, toward Laird Sutherland, she looked about the main hall. ‘Twas a large keep, clean and full of clansmen and women. Beautiful tapestries covered the walls, and rugs spread out over the floors. Aye, a lovely keep. She thought upon her former home. Och, how Laird Sutherland must have hated being there. And he’d wed in the main hall, filled with slovenly men, dirt, and foul smelling dogs.

  She’d been a fool to think their lives would change. A fool indeed. He’d see he made the wrong choice and they’d be sent out, she kenned it.

  They were able to sneak to the bailey without further interruption. Mayhap Laird Sutherland didn’t tell the clan who she was or why she was here. ‘Twould be odd, but the clan did appear disinterested in her. And what about the woman, Fiona? Her ire was certain to prompt her to tell all.

  A wagon filled with furs waited for them and Laird Sutherland sat upon his steed looking like a god in his own right. The sun filtered from behind him, glittering against his dark hair and casting shadows along the expanse of his body, hiding his face and, she presumed, the scowl upon it.

  “M’lady?” Cam said as he approached and helped her into the wagon. He lifted Mairi by the waist and tossed her in the air. She squealed with glee.

  Laird Sutherland cleared his throat.

  Rossalyn glared at him and sat primly in the wagon, doing her best to ignore the beast of a man. ‘Twas nearly impossible to do with a man of his size and presence, not to mention how her body betrayed her and thrummed with awareness when he was near.

  The wagon driver clucked to the horses and they were fast on their way.

  Mairi gabbed excitedly, helping to distract her.

  “‘Twill do,” Malcolm told the wagon driver when they reached a copse of trees. The landscape around the keep was hard and nearly barren. Only a few other groupings of trees littered the horizon.

  A strange setting for such a lovely keep.

  The more she looked around, the more she understood the Sutherland clan’s need for food stores. Dear God Almighty, she prayed her father wouldn’t trick her husband.

  Panic clenched her stomach. Her father was more than likely to back out of the agreement. As she’d left Gordon Keep, she’d heard him grousing to his men. Telling them they’d have to work harder to bring in enough stores for both clans. The last thing the Gordon clansmen wanted to do was work harder. Not that the Sutherlands were the only clan benefitting the agreement. ‘Twas why her father sought the alliance, to find someone to help protect the borders. It had been increasingly dangerous in the Highlands. Those who kenned Laird Gordon, or had been tricked by him, would no longer help and were often bent on revenge. Revenge which had resulted in the death of some of the guards who traveled the borders.

  Rossalyn gripped the side of the wagon until her knuckles turned white. She had to tell him, she had to warn Laird Sutherland. But how? Would he believe her? Would the news confirm his suspicions about her honesty and she’d be on the next conveyance to Gordon Keep?

  Once the wagon came to a full stop, Mairi clambered out and started following the driver into the trees. Rossalyn worried her lip as she watched her daughter trot along, so carefree, so happy.

  Malcolm dismounted, gathered some tools, and nodded for her to follow. ‘Twould be a long day if he chose to remain silent.

  Malcolm glimpsed Mairi run after the driver Brun. She chattered and the man listened. He envied her ability to ignore the growing tension between him and his wife.

  Sunlight flitted through the canopy of trees, kissing Rossalyn with gold. Something deep within him prodded, until he moved closer. Och, the woman befuddled him. Even now, with her hair tousled loose by the wind, she was incredibly lovely.

  “Mother, come and look.”

  They approached and were privy to the sight of an excited Mairi dragging a bunch of mistletoe behind her. Rossalyn clapped her hands and paced toward her daughter to help her carry the greenery to the wagon.

  As she bent to whisper something in her daughter’s ear, her cloak parted. Malcolm swallowed. Her creamy breasts, full and luscious, peeked above the neckline of her gown. She tipped her head back and laughed—a throaty peal, filling him with hot lust. His cods nearly burst with need.

  Bollocks. He dragged his fingers through his hair and looked away. The damage was done and he felt like a fool as blood rushed to his cock. He grabbed mistletoe and helped Brun with several more bunches, hoping to give his body something to think about besides Rossalyn’s breasts.

  By midmorning, they had filled the wagon and Mairi was running around the clearing with boundless energy.

  Brun brought a basket of food and Rossalyn spread a thick wool tartan over the ground, then unpacked the meal.

  As she spoke with her daughter softly, Malcolm listened to her husky voice. ‘Twas obvious she adored the lass. And when Mairi threw herself into Rossalyn’s arms, he was certain the affection was mutual.

  What hell they must have endured at Gordon Keep. He looked away, uneasy with the guilt nudging at his mind and twisting his stomach. Aye, she’d lied . . . but did she have good reason? Would he have done the same in her shoes? Done whatever it cost to ensure his child was safe?

  Once again his gaze lit on the wee lass. Precious and innocent. Undeserving of that bastard of a grandsire and the horrid keep. Undeserving of his scorn and the way he’d treated her mother.

  Aye, if their positions were reversed, he would lie, even kill to keep his bairn safe.

  Mairi looked his way. She grabbed a hunk of cheese and brought it to him. Her steps were hesitant, eyes wide, and a bit of her bravado slipped when she realized he watched her.

  “M’laird,” she whispered.

  Curiosity prompted him to say, “Aye?” as he lowered to his haunches.

  She handed him the cheese and then scrambled aside. He looked up at her and grinned. “Thank you, m’lady.”

  As he hoped, she giggled and tucked her hands behind her back. “I’m not a lady.”

  He could feel Rossalyn’s eyes on them, ever the protective mother. Mayhap she thought him a bastard because of how he’d treated them.

  “May I join you?”

  Mairi nodded. “‘Tis your forest, m’laird.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. Within a thrice, he’d scooped her into his arms and strode to the makeshift picnic. Mairi giggled the entire time.

  He carefully set the child on the tartan and bowed. “M’lady?”

  Rossalyn’s gaze narrowed and he kenned she was determining if she could trust him not to rush to anger and throw accusations at her.

  “Please, Mother,” the wee lass begged. “May the Laird sit with us?”

  A thin sm
ile tugged at Rossalyn’s lips as she gazed at her daughter. Malcolm prayed it would widen and the flash of humor would reach her eyes. When it didn’t, he took hold of her hand. She trembled, which pleased him. When she tried to pull away, he held on tighter. Then he rubbed his thumb along the soft flesh of her palm.

  “I see you have charmed my daughter, m’laird.” Her cool tone didn’t deter him.

  He lifted his brow. “I was trying to charm her mother,” he countered.

  She canted her head to the side and cast a suspicious glance toward him. Flashes of distrust flittered about in her gaze and those incredible blue eyes darkened. “I doubt that, m’laird.”

  “Malcolm,” he whispered as he brought her hand to his lips. “Please call me Malcolm.”

  It seemed like an eternity as he waited for her to speak. His heart pounded against his chest and he hoped he hadn’t destroyed her faith in him.

  “I’m sorry, Rossalyn,” he started after a few moments of heavy silence. “I’m sorry I blamed you for your father’s treachery.”

  The tight lines around her mouth softened. “I knew not what my father planned, but when I realized, I choose to continue deceiving you.” Her astute eyes sought his and he saw truth and regret in their brilliant depths. She pulled her hand from his, stood, and gripped her skirt. Tension thrummed around her. “He wanted me to leave without Mairi.”

  Rage nearly blinded him. If he ever saw the bastard again, he’d kill him. Nay, ‘twould be too kind, he’d tear him apart. Limb by limb.

  Then guilt flooded his senses anew. “If I had known—”

  She held up her hand to stop him. Offered a gentle smile. “Nay, if you had known, you would have refused me.”

  Bollocks. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the horizon. Would he? Aye.

  “Please allow me to explain.” He indicated for her to sit, then sighed when she did. He was being offered a second chance to make his marriage work for him and the clan.

  Mairi came and snuggled in her mother’s lap. Quicker than he thought possible, her chest rose and fell in slumber. He reached over and brushed her hair from her cheek.

  “She’s my life.” Tears quaked Rossalyn’s voice. “Even more so now that her father is dead.”

  She’d been married and widowed. Left alone to fend for herself and her daughter. Jealously flared before he banked it. How he wished he was the first man she’d loved. Rossalyn was fortunate to have Mairi. “I ken.”

  She set her hand atop of his. The gesture was reassuring and the warmth of her touch encouraged him.

  “Why did you insist on a chaste wife?”

  He exhaled. How to tell her when he was so humiliated by the entire experience?

  “Malcolm,” she said softly.

  His gaze met hers and she smiled. And her smile warmed him to the core. “I was to wed another.” Damn, ‘twas hard to admit to being fooled. “She—she was unfaithful, but still planned to wed me.” ‘Twas more than humiliating.

  He looked down at their joined hands. Hers elegant and soft, his large and callused.

  “What happened?”

  With a shrug that belied his inner turmoil, he said, “She’d been in love with another. As our wedding approached, he must have decided he didn’t want to share.” He glanced about the trees. “When he challenged me, I kenned he’d been tupping my betrothed.”

  She gasped. “Oh, Malcolm.”

  How he loved the sound of his name on her lips. “Aye. I refused to be challenged. Then I demanded he confess all. And even though she’d been my betrothed and he was one of my guards, they were banished. She tried to convince me he was lying. But I could see it in her eyes when she looked at him.” She’d loved the man and at the time Malcolm wasn’t willing to settle for a marriage without love, devotion, and honor. Now, his honor and loyalty to his clan dictated the direction of his actions and decision to wed. But his heart ‘twas his and his alone.

  His wife stroked her daughter’s hair as she regarded him. Such compassion radiated from those eyes. “Why was she willing to marry you if she loved someone else?”

  He scoffed. “I’m laird.” ‘Twas the truth of it, and when he realized Trina would be willing to wed him while her heart belonged to another, it astonished him and he closed his heart off to any thoughts of love.

  Attraction, aye, he’d allow that. Certainly he was attracted to Rossalyn. A man would have to be dead not to find her desirable.

  He tipped up her chin. “‘Twas because of her, your deceit stabbed like a knife.”

  Chapter 8

  Her heart ached for him. Och, ‘twas hard for a man like Malcolm to admit such a betrayal. Strong men didn’t take kindly to being cuckolded. She’d hurt him, she realized. More than hurt him, she’d brought up painful memories he obviously wanted to keep at bay. Shame and guilt ate at Rossalyn.

  She’d her reasons, yet now that she’d shared them with Malcolm, the guilt began to lift. “I had to protect my daughter. I had to ensure she would be safe from my father and his men.” Tears filled her eyes, blurring the expression of sympathy on Malcolm’s face.

  “Did they hurt you?” he growled.

  Such a fierceness overtook his features and she saw the warrior he could be. Aye, he was magnificent as his jaw clenched, making his face appear to be carved of Highland stone.

  She shook her head. “My father made many threats and his men have no scruples. I worried to think of what could happen as Mairi grew.” She looked away, finding the truth hard to tolerate.

  With her mother gone, ‘twould only have been a matter of time before her father married her to someone, just as the clan steward had hinted. And for what it seemed, Laird Sutherland was a decent man and a safe choice for her. Och, if her father had wed her to one of his men she’d would have fled. And then where would they have ended?

  He wiped a tear from her cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “I promise to protect you.”

  More tears flowed down her face. Mairi moved and jostled herself awake.

  She settled herself next to them and peered up with wide eyes.

  “Mairi, meet Laird Sutherland,” Rossalyn said when she realized they’d never been formally introduced.

  Her daughter slowly eyed them both, still sleepy. Then she looked to the ground as she did when her grandsire yelled.

  Malcolm chucked her under her chin. “Good day to you, Mairi.”

  She peeked up at him, a wee bit curious.

  He smiled, a brilliant grin with dimples and charm. “I am Laird Sutherland, lass. And your mother’s husband.” Taking her wee hand in his, he kissed the top as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. “I hope someday you will call me Da.”

  Rossalyn tried to hold back the tears, but they rushed over her lashes. Mairi didn’t remember her father. Daniel had died when she was barely toddling. She’d asked about him and if they were in the privacy of their chamber, Rossalyn would tell her how brave her father was, how they’d met; when he asked for her hand. And how happy they’d been when Mairi was born. Och, ‘twas bittersweet.

  Rossalyn’s heart sang with joy as Mairi’s face lit up with a smile.

  “Hmmm,” Mairi said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m pleased to meet you, m’laird.”

  Malcolm tipped back his head and laughed. Dear God Almighty, the sound filled the forest with mirth and warmed her heart. He tugged Mairi toward him and she hugged his neck.

  Rossalyn swiped at the tears racing down her cheeks. Aye, the man was sweet, to be sure. Her heart nearly melted at his endearing gestures.

  They rose to leave—her husband and daughter, Mairi chattering to Malcolm as if she’d known him her entire life. He nodded, laughed, and chatted back.

  Rossalyn sighed with relief as she gathered their picnic. Despite
her trepidation, she’d made the right choice in bringing Mairi. While she loathed having to lie, she was lucky the laird had a forgiving heart and accepted her daughter.

  They were both laughing as they entered the main hall. Rossalyn marveled once again not only at the size of the keep, but its cleanliness as well. Her father loathed wasting energy on something as trivial as cleaning and washing. The Sutherland Keep didn’t have food and bones on the floor. The tapestries and furs were free of dirt and, she assumed, mites.

  Each clansman worked in some capacity as well. Women carried food to the trestle tables in the main hall, lasses poured ale, and the men brought in peat and wood for the two enormous fireplaces flanking each end of the hall.

  They stilled at the threshold. Her nerves began to rattle as clansmen noticed them. Her feet felt as if they were in sludge and she was being dragged to her doom. Would they like her? Or had they heard how she tricked their laird? And was she worthy of such an industrious clan and lovely husband?

  “See over there?” Malcom leaned down to Mairi. “‘Tis where we will put our tree. And the Yule log will be set in that fireplace for all to enjoy.”

  “Ohhh!”

  Rossalyn envisioned the beauty of the hall during Christmas time. The mistletoe and pine. The merriment and food. Och, how she dreamed of a Christmas feast.

  While Father had banned any celebration, little signs of the season usually appeared in parts of the main hall. Her mother’s keepsakes, made over the years with care . . . When he tore them down, she’d taken them to her chamber where they’d be safe. Her father had rarely entered her room.

  Once her mother died, she’d thought to increase her efforts to make the season one of joy and merriment for Mairi. Something, anything to have hope and not wallow in the despair surrounding them. But her father thwarted her efforts and his men would continue to taunt her about the season and mock her at every opportunity.