The Highlander Who Loved Me

by Adrienne Basso

  The servant hitched her shoulders, indicating her lack of knowledge. “’Tis the laird’s business and none of my concern.”

  Yet despite her show of indifference, Davina could see the woman was bursting with curiosity. Castle life could become rather tedious, especially in the winter months when many were confined indoors. A juicy bit of gossip was something to savor and share, and the individual relating the news was often filled with self-importance. No doubt the maid was as eager to learn the cause of the summons as Davina.

  Davina’s mind continued to spin as she followed the maid. All too soon they stood in front of the closed door. The servant cast a sympathetic glance her way before respectfully withdrawing. Davina wiped her damp palms on the skirt of her gown, shook off her nervous thoughts, then timidly knocked.

  A booming voice bade her to enter. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy oak door, coming up short when she saw that the laird was not alone in the chamber.

  Malcolm stood near a narrow window, while James was at the opposite side. Malcolm smiled in welcome; James scowled. Ignoring them both—and the tension in the room—Davina turned her attention to the laird. She dropped a formal curtsy, then took the seat the McKenna indicated beside Lady Aileen. The older woman reached over and patted her hand reassuringly.

  Davina’s momentary relief quickly faded as all eyes turned toward her. She felt a sudden chill run up her spine. Folding her hands demurely in her lap, she struggled to overcome her foreboding.

  “We were discussing yer journey here and the unpleasantness that occurred in the woods,” the McKenna said abruptly. “I want to know what ye think of the matter.”

  Davina’s tongue touched her lips. People rarely sought her opinion and never so directly. Apparently the laird did not feel the need to make small talk before easing into the business he wished to address.

  “Our traveling party was attacked without warning or provocation. Sir Malcolm and his men fought bravely to keep me and my companion, Colleen, safe,” she replied. “I am grateful and relieved that none were seriously injured and that nothing of value was stolen.”

  “Well said, lass.” The McKenna nodded approvingly. “But now that we have had some time to think upon the incident, we need to understand why the men attacked.”

  “They were thieves, were they not?”

  “Most likely.” The laird’s sharp eyes narrowed upon her. “But we believe the treasure they sought to steal was ye.”

  “Me? That’s impossible.”

  “Men will do almost anything to secure the hand of an heiress,” the McKenna insisted. “’Tis the best, logical explanation.”

  “Hardly the only one,” Davina muttered. “Besides, if a man had an honorable offer of marriage, he need only approach my uncle.”

  Where he would be soundly rejected. At my request.

  The laird cocked his head. “Perhaps this man did and yer uncle turned him away. We all know a Highlander doesn’t like to be denied.”

  “Aye, ye would not be the first Scottish bride kidnapped by an eager groom.” Malcolm cleared his throat loudly. “I’ve heard tell that some lasses think it’s romantic.”

  “Hogwash!” Lady Aileen reached over and slapped her son on the arm. “No woman would find being taken by force romantic.”

  A spot of color flushed Malcolm’s cheeks. “I dinnae say I agreed with it. I was merely stating the fact.”

  Davina could feel her shoulders tense. If the laird only knew the truth about her, he would realize the absurdity of this conversation. Yet pride held her tongue from revealing her full circumstances. “There have been no offers of marriage. My uncle would have told me.”

  The McKenna frowned. “He might not have troubled ye with an offer that he felt was unworthy. That could prompt a man who was turned away to take matters into his own hands.”

  Davina’s mind churned. It was true that her uncle would have neglected telling her of a marriage proposal that he rejected. But what man would be daft enough to suggest it? All the local clans knew she was a recluse and surely thought her an oddity.

  Nay, the idea is absurd.

  Davina stared at her knotted hands. “I am a woman of little consequence. I can assure ye that no man would waste his time trying to kidnap me.”

  “Yer modesty is admirable, though misplaced.” The McKenna smiled. “But ye cannae deny that ye need protection and I’ve found a solution that will be sure to please ye. What do ye say to a Christmas wedding?”

  “Fer me?” Davina squeaked.

  “Aye. Either of my sons would make ye a fine husband.”

  Davina bolted upright in her seat. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

  “Och, Brian, ye’ve made a fine mess of things,” Aileen shouted at her husband. “The poor lass has gone as white as a linen shift.”

  “She’s surprised, that’s all, and filled with maidenly nerves,” the McKenna insisted. “Once she has a moment to think upon it, I’m sure she’ll be delighted at my suggestion.”

  A stunned silence tied Davina’s tongue in knots. The very idea of marriage was unthinkable given her unease around men, though to be honest, she had made considerable progress in overcoming those feelings since arriving at McKenna Castle.

  But marriage? ’Twas impossible!

  She took a few calming breaths before formulating her reply. “I am touched by yer concern fer me. Truly. However, I have no intentions of getting married.”

  “Ever?”

  Davina pulled her mouth into a thin line and nodded. “I’ll never wed.”

  The McKenna scratched his head. “Why not?”

  Inadvertently, Davina’s eyes flew to James, worried about what he might have told his family about their past relationship. But his expression was shuttered, giving her no clues.

  With difficulty, she managed to find her tongue again. “My reasons fer remaining unwed are my own and have naught to do with ye, milord.”

  For an instant Davina fretted that her words had insulted him, but instead of appearing angry, the laird smiled at her. “I knew there was a bit of fire and boldness inside ye, lass. ’Tis good to see it fer myself.”

  Davina felt a smile form on her lips. “Though it makes no sense, I feel glad to have pleased ye.”

  “Then ye can please me even more by agreeing to marry one of my sons.”

  “Ye are wrong to think I was nearly kidnapped.” She hesitated, then spoke from the heart. “But, if that were true, am I to be rescued from one man only to be given to another?”

  “We willnae give ye to any man,” Lady Aileen insisted. “The choice will be yers.”

  The McKenna nodded his head enthusiastically. “Malcolm and James will court ye, properly and respectfully.”

  James cleared his throat loudly. “I’ve already said that my brother alone will have the privilege of courting Lady Davina. ’Twill make her choice much easier.”

  Too surprised to hide her dismay, she allowed a small gasp to escape her lips. James would not court her? Her cheeks reddened. “My uncle wouldn’t approve,” Davina said.

  “He willnae object to an alliance with the McKenna clan,” the laird said. “Especially when he sees how happy ye are at the match.”

  Davina could feel the edges of panic starting to invade. The McKenna was like a hungry dog refusing to give up a bone. She looked to Aileen for support, but the older woman smiled with approval. Malcolm was also smiling pleasantly and James, well, there was a flicker in his eyes that was impossible to read.

  “I cannae marry without my uncle’s approval.”

  “I’ll deal with yer uncle when the time comes,” the McKenna insisted. “All ye have to do is make a decision.”

  “And if I refuse?” she dared to ask.

  Though he didn’t move a muscle, Davina could feel the laird tense. “We have nearly sixty eligible men in the clan who would be honored to have ye as their wife. If ye refuse my sons, there are others to woo ye. Mark my words. Before the last of the Ch
ristmas greenery is taken down from the great hall, ye’ll be a McKenna bride.”

  The brigand swore as the icy wind howled, cutting through the worn wool cloak he wore. ’Twas ripped in spots, patched in others, but it was his best garment, taken last year from a corpse after a knife fight. He was not anxious to report another failure, yet the two hours he’d been kept waiting were starting to anger him.

  A rustling noise drew his attention, and the brigand moved, turning toward the sound. His breath caught in surprise when a familiar hooded, cloaked figure presented itself in front of him. The brigand shivered again, wondering at the seemingly mystical powers that were always swirling around his mysterious employer.

  “Where is Lady Davina?”

  The brigand hung his head. “We dinnae get her.”

  The cloaked figure scowled and looked at him in disgust. “Why not?”

  The brigand cleared his dry throat. “There were too many experienced fighters guarding her.”

  A withering silence answered him. He could see the fabric of the cloak trembling in anger. Nervously, he continued. “Several of my men were hurt, two badly.”

  The gloved hand flashed in front of him. “And why would any of that be my concern? Ye were hired to steal her away and leave her somewhere near, so she could be easily found by her kin.”

  He swallowed. “Ye dinnae tell me that the McKennas would be riding as escort, led by Malcolm McKenna himself, nor that there would be so many men protecting her.”

  “And ye dinnae tell me that ye were a buffoon! Ye took my coin and said that ye’d have no trouble doing as I bid because ye were such a skilled fighter.”

  The insult stung, all the more because it held some truth. Frustrated, the brigand wrenched a nearby branch so hard it snapped off the tree. “The odds were uneven.”

  “Ye should have planned better.”

  “I could have been better prepared if I had more coin,” the brigand retorted, his voice rising. “Ye paid me a pittance of what ye promised.”

  “And I’ll not pay ye any more until the job is finished. Properly, as I asked,” the figure answered, scowling darkly.

  The brigand cringed, fists at the ready. But beating the person who had promised him payment was foolish. He had two bairns to feed, plus his widowed sister’s three hungry children. Honest work was hard to find and would not provide him with the necessary coin to keep them all from starving.

  Silently fuming, the brigand schemed, then tried to negotiate. “Lady Davina will be safely tucked away behind the walls of McKenna Castle. ’Tis a fortress not even an army can breach.”

  “A lackwit as well as a mediocre fighter,” the figure taunted. “It appears that I must find a far more clever man to do this job.”

  “Wait!” the brigand cried. “I dinnae say it couldn’t be done. Only that it would be harder.”

  “Beyond yer skill?”

  “Nay! But I’ll need more men and more money.”

  The figure’s hand curled into a fist. “More?”

  The brigand stiffened. “It willnae be easy to entice men to challenge the McKennas. But the promise of gold will make a difference.”

  “’Tis yer fault she reached the castle in the first place,” the figure scoffed. “Why should yer failure cost me?”

  The brigand narrowed his eyes. “We both know that given the circumstances, no other man could have taken her alive. Ye might not think me the best choice, but ye’ll have to search high and low to find someone willing to try and snatch her from the McKennas.”

  The figure hesitated, raising the brigand’s hopes. He heard the soft jangle of coins and felt a rush of relief when a small leather pouch appeared. He eagerly reached for it, cursing loudly when it was pulled away.

  “This is yer last chance,” the figure warned. “If ye fail, ye’ll not be seeing me again.”

  The brigand licked his lips. “I want double that amount if I get her out alive.”

  “Nay!”

  The brigand puffed out his chest in a bold show of bravado, but inside he was twisting with nerves. “The risk is far greater. Double the original price is more than fair.”

  The figure started to protest, then quieted and slowly held out the pouch. “Ye will earn double if Lady Davina is taken from the castle and left on Armstrong land.”

  The brigand swiped the pouch before it vanished again, feeling its weight. ’Twas far lighter than he had hoped. His men would grumble at the small share, but it was better than walking away with nothing.

  Taking a calculated risk, the brigand dared to strike one last bargain. “If we are caught, the McKennas will fight hard to save the lady.”

  “I believe we have already established that fact,” the figure snapped.

  “If the lady is injured, will ye still pay me?”

  The figure nodded, a scant shift of the chin. “Aye, if she’s injured I’ll pay ye the price we just agreed. Nothing more.” The figure turned, tensed, then turned back. “But if she dies, I’ll pay ye double.”

  Shocked, the brigand sucked in a breath. Killing Lady Davina would indeed make his job easier, but his stomach roiled at slaying an innocent young woman. Yet if that was what needed to be done in order to be paid, he had few choices.

  The brigand watched the cloaked figure walk away, pondering this latest twist. He knew that they could be emotional, irrational, and unpredictable, but until he heard those instructions spoken so coldly, he never realized the full truth.

  A woman could be as cruel and ruthless as a man.

  Chapter Ten

  “There ye are! I was worried that ye’d be packing yer trunks and planning yer escape,” Lady Aileen cried.

  Davina’s head whirled. She had been sitting in the chapel contemplating her choices—which were very few—praying for divine guidance. None had been forthcoming.

  “I would never be so rude as to slip away without saying good-bye,” Davina said formally.

  “I know.” Lady Aileen sat beside her and gently patted her knee, as if aught were amiss. “We might have only met yesterday, but thanks to our years of correspondence, I feel as though I know ye well. I hoped that ye’d felt the same about me.”

  The words struck Davina like a blow. “I did feel the same. Until this morning.”

  Lady Aileen nodded. “Trust, once lost, is hard to reclaim. But I have not betrayed ye, Davina.”

  “Then why did ye not object when the laird said he would see me married to a McKenna?”

  Lady Aileen peered over her shoulder. Only after she had examined every corner of the chapel and determined they were alone did she speak. “Brian McKenna is a good man, with many fine qualities. He’s also as stubborn as a summer day is long. I’ve been married to him for enough years to know that there’s no use in wasting yer breath when he has his mind set on something. And fer some peculiar reason that I cannae claim to fully understand, he has his mind set on ye marrying a McKenna.”

  Hopelessness washed over Davina. “I cannae do it.”

  “Och, child, I never said that ye would. Forgive my boastful words, but ye’ll find no better husband in all of the Highlands than my sons.” Lady Aileen peered at her with interest. “The McKenna is wise in the way of warfare. He would never underestimate a threat and he believes there is one against ye. That’s why he insists ye take a husband.”

  “I dinnae question the laird’s sincerity. But he is wrong in this instance and I fear his mistake will cost me dearly.” Davina pulled in a long breath. “I absolutely cannae marry,” she added passionately.

  “So ye’ve said.”

  “And I shall keep saying it until someone truly hears it!”

  “Yer vehemence is rather puzzling. Marriage is a natural state fer a woman, especially one of noble birth. If ye had a religious calling, then ye’d be in a convent. Part of the reason ye came here was so that we could offer each other comfort in our melancholy, but that wouldn’t prevent ye from marrying.” Lady Aileen’s elegant brow arched. “Do ye already have
a husband?”

  “Nay! Of course not!” Davina deepened her voice to emphasize the seriousness of her statements. “But there are reasons. Good reasons. Solid reasons.”

  Lady Aileen cleared her throat. “Will ye tell me?”

  Davina opened her mouth, but Lady Aileen held up her hand to stop her. “Besides needing yer uncle’s approval.”

  Despite her resolve not to, shame warmed Davina’s cheeks. She squirmed under Lady Aileen’s shrewd gaze, for the older woman’s eyes missed no detail, however small and insignificant. Davina stared at the floor, struggling to find the words, then met Aileen’s gaze. Her voice was taut with emotion over the embarrassing words she must speak.

  “A man expects his bride to be pure. I fear that I might not be a virgin,” Davina admitted, with as much dignity as she could muster.

  “Might? Ye dinnae know?”

  “I . . . well . . .” Heavens above, I sound like a half-wit! Davina wrung the fabric of her gown between her hands, took a deep calming breath, and let the words tumble out. “I’m uncertain. A few years ago, I was brutally attacked, possibly violated, but I cannae remember. When I finally healed, the midwife examined me, but she said she cannae always tell if a lass is still a maid. She couldn’t tell with me.”

  Lady Aileen’s eyes filled with sympathy. “’Tis a sad tale and I am sorry fer what ye have suffered. But if ye marry a Highlander over the age of sixteen, I daresay he willnae be chaste.”

  Davina scoffed. “We both know there is a vast difference between what is expected of a groom and a bride. She must be pure, unsullied, untouched.”

  “Hmmm. Well, that might be true, but not all women go to their bridal beds virgins and most grooms dinnae even realize it. There are ways to, uhm, shall we say disguise the truth.”

  A strange flicker of guilt struck Davina’s heart. She did know of these things and was ashamed to admit that she had thought about it, yet knew, in good conscience, she could never follow through with it. That is, if there even were a chance for her to marry. “I couldn’t start a marriage on such a lie.”

  Lady Aileen’s gaze never shifted. “So, ye would not try to deceive him, to pretend an innocence, to smear blood on the bed linens that wasn’t yer own?”