The Highlander Who Loved Me

by Adrienne Basso

  Without another word, Malcolm reached down and scooped his daughter up his arms. He braced himself for the squawking that was sure to follow, but the little girl stayed silent. Yet his smile of relief soon faded when he saw that Lileas continued to cling to Lady Davina’s skirts even as he held her aloft.

  “Och, Malcolm, put her down before she tears Lady Davina’s gown,” his mother cried.

  “Papa promised me,” Lileas proclaimed with a dramatic sigh. “I dinnae want to be a motherless child anymore.”

  “Ye’re going to be a lass with a sore backside if ye dinnae do as ye are told,” Malcolm countered.

  That threat caught his daughter’s attention. Finger by finger, Lileas slowly released her grip on the delicate fabric of Lady Davina’s skirt. When her hand was free, Malcolm set her on her feet, giving her a single swat on her behind.

  “Apologize,” he demanded, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at his child.

  Lileas’s lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Papa. Please dinnae be mad at me anymore.”

  Malcolm felt his heart nearly crush with guilt. The lass looked so small and helpless and utterly chastised. He immediately regretted his scolding tone and physical punishment, though it had been but a light tap.

  A few months ago, Lileas had come to the realization that the clan children she played with all had something she lacked—a mother. Malcolm believed she had accepted the answer that her mother was in heaven and she seemed content when he had blithely assured her that one day he would find her a new mother.

  He had not anticipated her expectation that the promise would be filled immediately. Nor the depth of her need. Malcolm’s guilt grew. If he were a better, more loving and attentive father, perhaps Lileas’s need for a mother might not be so great.

  “Lileas, make a proper curtsy to Lady Davina,” the McKenna instructed.

  Her brow furrowed with concentration, Lileas obeyed her grandfather, gracefully bending her knee. Malcolm stared at his daughter, pride spearing his heart. She looked like an angel.

  “Are ye my new mama?”

  Malcolm barely hid his groan. At least Lady Davina no longer seemed startled by the question. Fie, she’d heard it enough in the past five minutes to be used to it.

  Lady Davina knelt and looked Lileas directly in the eye. “I willnae be yer mother, but I should like very much to be yer friend.”

  Lileas chewed her bottom lip as she considered the offer. “I like having friends.”

  “As do I. If yer father allows it, perhaps ye can show me around the castle tomorrow?”

  Both females turned hopeful eyes toward him. He ran a hand through his hair, manfully resisting the cowardly urge to turn to his mother and let her decide. “Lileas will make an excellent guide.”

  That answer earned him a smile from all three females. Malcolm held his hand out to his daughter. She took it eagerly, skipping beside him as they made their way to the high table. He settled her on the special chair to his left, which was built with high, sturdy legs so the little girl could reach the table, then assisted Lady Davina, who was seated to his right.

  His mother was on Lady Davina’s other side, allowing him to focus most of his attention on his daughter since his mother was busy speaking with her guest.

  Lileas happily filled his ear with news of the puppies that had been born a few days ago, the antics of her faithful dog, Prince, the fluffy gray castle cat she had finally been able to catch and pet for a few minutes before it squirmed away, and the pretty smell of the lavender satchels she had helped her grandmother make this morning.

  Always a good eater, the child grew quiet as she concentrated on the food Malcolm had set on her trencher. He had chosen the most tender pieces of meats, cutting them into small bits, so they could be easily chewed and swallowed, and selected her favorite vegetables, though Lileas always ate them all. Ignoring his own hunger, Malcolm watched the child as she ate, marveling anew at how this beautiful, perfect, innocent creature had sprung from his loins.

  From the moment of her birth, the love he had failed to feel for Lileas’s mother had manifested itself in emotions so deep and strong for their child that Malcolm almost felt unmanned by it. The fierce, nearly obsessive desire he carried to protect Lileas and see her happy seemed to grow each day, never more so than when he had been away from her for a time.

  Assured that his daughter had all that she needed, Malcolm relaxed slightly and turned his attention to his meal. The roasted venison was moist and succulent; the stew of vegetables and boar meat dripping in a rich, tasty sauce.

  The sound of Lady Davina’s rich, velvet voice invaded his thoughts, causing Malcolm to pick up his head like a hound on the scent of its prey. Now, there was a puzzling female. She jumped like a hare at the sound of a deep male voice and yet she had retained her composure during that surprise skirmish in the woods.

  She had further risen in his respect and admiration when she had volunteered to aid the men who had been wounded during the attack and had managed to do so without becoming overly emotional. ’Twas a reaction he had not predicted nor anticipated.

  He understood well the feeling of fear; any warrior with wits experienced it when faced with battle. ’Twas only training that made that emotion fade into the background while instinct to survive took over.

  He imagined it would be much harder for a lass, as she did not possess the means to defend herself, but instead must rely on those around her to keep her safe.

  Malcolm began staring at Lady Davina. He knew it was rude, yet a part of him thought if he peered at her long enough, he might come to some understanding of her.

  She must have felt his gaze upon her, for she turned to him, her eyes light with curiosity. He smiled. Her eyes widened. She tried, but only managed a very brief grin in return. ’Twas all the opening he needed.

  “I must apologize fer Lileas’s somewhat . . . uhm . . . exuberant greeting,” Malcolm said. “I hope that ye dinnae find offense at her outburst.”

  “Nay. ’Tis rather flattering really, to think she would want me fer her new mother.” Lady Davina speared a morsel of meat with her eating knife. “I understand the loneliness of growing up without a mother, though I was lucky to have mine until the age of twelve. ’Tis obvious that Lileas is well loved and cared fer, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  Malcolm pondered her words, watching her as she took a drink of her wine. The drink left her lips looking plump and rosy. Ripe for a kiss?

  “Perhaps ’tis time fer me to think about finding a bride,” he said casually. “Ye aren’t wed, are ye?”

  She appeared stunned for a moment. Nervously, she took another sip of her wine, tipping it back until her goblet was empty. He reached over and refilled it. She took another long gulp. “I’m sure there are many fine, accomplished ladies who would gladly accept yer proposal, Sir Malcolm.”

  “Malcolm.”

  “Pardon.”

  “As ye are a guest in our home,’tis acceptable fer ye to address me by my name. Will ye do me the honor of granting me the same privilege?”

  Her cheeks flamed. “Of course. It seems foolish to be so formal. Yer mother has already insisted that I call her Aileen.”

  A teasing muscle twitched in his jaw. “So, Davina, what advice can ye give me regarding a wife?”

  She brushed her hand over her brow, momentarily stopping to pinch the bridge of her nose. He thought he also heard her utter a short prayer—dearest Lord, give me strength—but could not be completely certain.

  “As an unmarried woman, I am hardly the one to consult on such matters.”

  “Why are ye unmarried? If I might be so bold to ask?”

  To his surprise, instead of blushing and turning away, she gave him a hard stare. “Ye may ask all that ye like, Si . . . Malcolm. But I dinnae have to answer.”

  “Papa.” Lileas tugged on his sleeve. “I finished all my meat. May I have more?”

  “Here, take this.
I’ve already cut it into small pieces.” Davina offered the meat from her trencher.

  “Thank ye.” Malcolm considered Davina as he placed the food in front of his daughter.

  The burden of parenting would most definitely be lighter if he had a wife. And there would be more bairns. Companions for Lileas and an heir for the clan. He could feel a curious smile flitting across his face as he opened the part of his body he usually kept shut to unrelated females—his heart.

  Malcolm thought himself hardened, even jaded toward the fairer sex. His marriage to Margaret Douglas had ended when a mysterious fever had taken her life and while he mourned the loss of a mother for his young daughter, he did not miss the responsibility of a wife.

  Margaret had been clinging and demanding, quick to cry and quicker to complain. He would not go so far as to say she had ruined his taste for women—a willing widow or a softhearted harlot were always welcomed in his bed. But life with Margaret had convinced Malcolm that marriage was not something he was eager to embrace again.

  Yet there was no denying that Lileas needed—nay, she deserved—a mother to fuss and care for her.

  Why not consider Lady Davina? Lileas was already taken with her. Clan alliances were strong—the threat from the English weaker than it had been in years. He need not make such a strategic match this time. He had already done his duty by marrying Margaret Douglas and Lileas’s birth assured the blood tie between them.

  Aye, Davina deserved strong consideration. Besides, he had promised his daughter a new mother. And a McKenna always honored his word.

  A trencher piled high with roasted meat and winter vegetables was set in front of Davina. She took a sip of the mulled wine, then another, finding it to be heady and strong. It warmed her body from the inside out, a pleasant sensation.

  The tension that had been building since she had left the familiar gates of Armstrong Castle eased a bit, replaced by a sense of peace. Astonishingly, instead of being panicked, she felt a sense of safety surrounded by such a large crowd of people.

  The laughter flowed as freely as the wine and ale. There were many smiles among the servants as well as those folks sitting at the tables and partaking of the meal. ’Twas all so different from the meals at her home, where everyone always seemed to be on their guard.

  ’Twas also a pleasant change not to be stared at with anxious eyes. Part of the reason she seldom took her meals with her family was the discomforting scrutiny she was usually afforded by her aunt and uncle. Of course, that was preferable to the looks of curiosity and pity the other clan members and servants bestowed upon her.

  A few of the men started banging their tankards on the table, demanding more ale. They were soon joined by a group sitting at the table next to them. A harried bevy of servants rushed forward and Davina saw a brutal-looking warrior pull one of the serving wenches onto his lap and kiss her soundly on the lips.

  Davina cringed, fearing the girl was being held against her will, then realized the lass was laughing the hardest. Still smiling, the girl pushed herself off the man’s lap, reached for the pitcher and the man’s tankard. Davina felt the suffocating tightness in her chest start to ease.

  “My husband allows no abuse in his hall,” Lady Aileen said smoothly. “All are treated with respect.”

  Davina smiled and stole a peek over Lady Aileen’s shoulder to her husband. Laird McKenna did not strike her as an enlightened man; affording his female servants the freedom to reject any advances hardly suited his character. Or so it seemed.

  Feeling his eyes upon her, Laird McKenna turned his head. He favored her with a brief grin, then turned to the priest who sat beside him. Davina guiltily lowered her chin, realizing she should not be so quick to judge.

  There was more food and dancing as the night wore on. The troubadour sang several songs, then told a fine tale of a mystical maiden and brave warrior, earning a shining coin from Laird McKenna for his efforts. He was followed by a talented group of jugglers who leaped and jumped about as they tossed a variety of objects in the air.

  They finished to loud whistles and shouts of approval from the crowd. Clapping along, Davina turned to Lileas, eager to see the child’s reaction. But it was Malcolm’s brawny form that captured her attention.

  He was sprawled in his chair, staring at her with eyes that were heavy with interest. Normally, such scrutiny would have her squirming in her seat, but for some reason it didn’t bother Davina. It was probably the wine making her less guarded. Or perhaps seeing how caring and devoted he was to his daughter aided in easing her fears. Whatever the reason, it gave Davina hope and encouragement.

  “I’m very pleased that ye are here.” Malcolm caught her hand and ran his thumb slowly, intimately over her palm.

  Davina gasped, her relaxed mood instantly vanishing. His touch was warm and hypnotic. Her first instinct was to snatch her hand away, run to her chamber, and bolt the door behind her. But she conquered her fear.

  “’Tis most kind of yer lady mother to invite me,” Davina muttered. His hypnotic caress brought on a vulnerable feeling that was not entirely unpleasant, for it was gentle and calm.

  He brought her hand to his mouth. Mercy! That was too much. Davina twisted her arm and jerked away before his lips could connect with her exposed flesh.

  His brow lifted in surprise. Davina held her breath, bracing for the possibility of a violent reaction, but instead Malcolm smiled. She saw the firelight from the flicker torches that lined the hall reflected warmly in his eyes and calmed.

  “Ye must cease trying to seduce me, milady,” he teased.

  “Me! Seduce ye?” she protested breathlessly. “Have yer wits gone missing, Malcolm?”

  He laughed, the sound deep and wicked and utterly delightful. Davina sputtered with indignation, but then found herself grinning back at him.

  “I cannae help myself. Ye make it too tempting and far too easy to tease ye, lass,” he replied.

  Davina felt her cheeks blush, but she was not offended. “Have ye no shame, milord? Ye flirt with me while yer daughter sits beside ye. ’Tis unseemly.”

  “Nay,’tis perfectly innocent. Therefore, there’s no reason to hide it, especially when it pleases ye so greatly.”

  Davina cast her eyes downward. Aye,’twas true. When she managed to lose her fear, she was able to enjoy this harmless bit of flattery.

  Her heart fairly leapt at the enormity of this discovery. I can do it!

  This joyful revelation was overshadowed when she caught sight of a tall figure silhouetted in the glare of torchlight at the end of the great hall. He was garbed in a shirt of black mail, a broad sword at his side and two lethal-looking kirks thrust into the leather belt on his hips.

  His sudden, daunting appearance startled the musicians so completely they ceased playing. The distinct sound of swords being drawn permeated the air, yet the man’s hands remained rigidly by his side. Davina assumed this defenseless stance was the only reason he had not been challenged by one of the McKenna soldiers.

  Well, that, and the fact that he looked prepared to cut down the first man who dared to move against him.

  The man’s face was cast in the shadows, hiding it from view, but when he reached the center of the hall, the blazing wall torches illuminated his features.

  Jolted by the sight, Davina froze. She felt her blood run ice cold, then fiery hot. She stared at the stranger for what felt like an eternity before her mind accepted the impossibility of what her eyes were seeing.

  James!

  Davina’s hand flew up to cover her mouth and stifle the startled cry that rose to her lips.

  There was no mistaking that lean, square jaw and wide, sensual mouth. Davina lost her fragile grip on her goblet. It landed on the table with a dull thud, the deep red contents spilling across and then down the sides. The steady drip of the liquid on the stone floor broke through the stillness, shattering the unnatural silence.

  “James!” Lady Aileen’s scream of joy cascaded throughout the great hall. She
dashed from her chair and weaved her way through the maze of tables, fairly leaping into her son’s arms when she reached him.

  Their mutual laughter could be heard throughout the great hall. It broke any lingering tension among the clan and the celebratory mood once again returned. The lively music and merriment resumed, yet it moved around Davina, for all she could feel was the breath that had become trapped in her lungs.

  The image of the young man she had loved so completely had never faded from her mind, or her heart. Yet the man who stood so arrogantly holding Lady Aileen close to his chest was barely recognizable. He was much taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader, his muscles larger and more defined. There was an angry scar slashed through his left eyebrow and another, smaller one on his square jaw.

  But it was his eyes that had changed the most. No longer teasing and kind, they were raw and unnerving, giving him the wild, primitive, dangerous look of a man who did whatever he wanted and damn the consequences.

  A stab of regret pierced Davina’s heart at the memory of the honorable young knight she had known and loved.

  She steeled her expression as James drew near the dais, certain her heart was beating so fast and loud it could be heard clear on the opposite side of the chamber. A pain shot through her jaw and she realized it was because she was gritting her teeth so tightly.

  His expression grew puzzled, then turned to one of stern disapproval as his gaze traveled critically over her. Davina felt her heart beating even faster now, but somehow she found the strength to lift her chin and stare straight at him.

  For a brief moment they stared at each other without voice or movement, then James blinked several times and shook his head, as though confirming in his mind what his eyes were seeing.

  “Davina?”

  His voice was harsh with surprised anger. It cut through her shock with swift pain. She fought the strong urge to flee, ignoring an inner voice that commanded she turn and run, for truth be told, there was nowhere to hide.

  He moved closer and she felt the heat of his smoldering eyes scorch her. The wine she had drunk earlier swirled through her head and she began to panic, knowing she had no control over this situation.