The Highlander Who Loved Me

by Adrienne Basso

  Davina’s heartbeat quickened at the thought.

  A hound bayed in the distance. Lileas straightened, lifting her head curiously. “I hear a dog. Do ye think it’s Prince?”

  Davina turned to James. “Could someone be searching fer us?”

  “We dinnae stray too far from where I told my mother we were going. There’s certainly no need to bring the dogs to find us.” James narrowed his eyes. “Come, let’s return. I’ve no wish to meet whoever is following those hounds.”

  The trace of impatience in his tone brought on a ripple of unease. They were on McKenna land, not far from the castle. Yet James clearly felt there could be danger.

  Davina scrambled to her horse. James helped her mount, then hoisted Lileas onto his stallion. Instructing the little girl to stay very still, he swung up behind her. The child snuggled into his warmth, giggling with youthful joy, the falling incident apparently forgotten.

  The sight had a strange effect on Davina. She felt a pang of envy at seeing Lileas so tenderly nestled in James’s embrace, remembering the times when she had been held so lovingly. Remembering the comforting feeling of his arms held securely around her, the gentle, soothing murmur of his voice, the sensation of his warm breath on her cheek.

  Oh, how she missed it!

  She stole a glance at him. The aura of power and strength that always surrounded him was softened by the child he cradled so protectively. She itched to move closer and squeeze his hand, to somehow become a part of that connection.

  Heat scorched Davina’s cheeks. Shaking off that witless thought, she reached for the reins of her horse. She had no right to expect anything from him and yearning for the impossible to become a reality was a very dangerous thing.

  James shot her a glance over his shoulder and waved her forward. She tensed, then forced herself to relax. There was no risk of him knowing her foolish thoughts.

  At his command, Davina rode slightly ahead. She could feel his gaze on her back as they rode. It gave her a sense of security, knowing that James was watching, protecting.

  The long, gray curtain wall of McKenna Castle soon came into view. They were quickly recognized by the guards and Davina could hear the heavy gate being raised. The moment they entered the bailey, Malcolm strode over to meet them. ’Twas obvious he had been waiting for them, and none too patiently, judging from his hasty movements.

  “Ye were gone far longer than expected,” Malcolm said, as he reached up for his daughter and lifted her down from James’s horse. “Mother was starting to worry.”

  Davina could tell from Malcolm’s serious, frowning expression that it was not only Lady Aileen who had been concerned.

  “Lileas was safe with me,” James bristled, apparently also seeing his brother’s unease. “There was no need to send the hounds to track us.”

  “Hounds? I sent none, though I was fully prepared to ride out myself if ye dinnae return within the hour.”

  An unspoken message of wariness passed between the two men. Davina bit back a sigh. Even an outing as innocent as gathering holiday greenery carried an element of unknown danger. ’Twas a very unsettling thought.

  “I’m hungry, Papa.”

  The concern vanished from Malcolm’s face as he turned to his daughter. “I’m not surprised. Searching fer greenery in a stark forest is hard work.”

  “Aye, I worked very hard today.” Lileas leaned against her father’s side as he lightly petted her head.

  “Then ye shall have yer reward. I’m sure that Cook can spare some honey cakes.”

  Lileas squealed with delight and Malcolm hoisted the little girl into his arms. She settled easily against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. As they walked away, Davina was struck anew at the care Malcolm paid to his daughter. Most men lavished that sort of attention on their sons, leaving their female progeny as an afterthought.

  “The little imp,” James muttered as he helped Davina dismount. “She twists her father around her finger as neatly as she twines her arms around his neck.”

  “She is quite a rascal, with an uncanny talent fer getting herself into all sorts of mischief.” Davina watched the pair enter the great hall. “Yet I doubt that Malcolm will feel so benevolent when he learns of Lileas’s afternoon adventure.”

  James whirled to face her. “I gave my word that I wouldn’t speak of it. I’m hoping to convince Lileas to tell her father on her own.”

  “I dinnae foresee that happening.”

  Davina tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and fought to hide her smile. She was confident that Malcolm was incapable of meting out a harsh punishment to his daughter, making Davina’s decision far easier.

  Things had turned out well in the end today, but the next time Lileas might not be so fortunate. In order to keep her safe,’twas important that child learn there would be consequences for disobedience.

  “Aye, ye gave yer word.” Davina brushed a smudge of dirt off her cloak. “I, however, made no such promise.”

  Chapter Twelve

  James waited until the evening meal was being served before entering the great hall. Though Christmas was two days away, it was already bedecked in holiday greenery. A cheerful buzz could be heard throughout the vast chamber. The mood was festive and for a moment he allowed himself to relax as he tried to enjoy it.

  Aye, this was the reason he returned home. To once again experience the security of being surrounded by those you could trust. To witness the joy found in simple pleasures. Plentiful, warm food, a comfortable bed, the companionship of family and friends. Lord knows, there had been far too little of that while living the life of a Crusader.

  James’s eyes scanned the hall slowly as the sights, sounds, and smells washed over him. Christmas was a time of hope and renewal. He’d be wise to savor this moment, rather than reliving the haunting bitterness and disappointments of the past.

  The tables were filled with smiling men and women, feasting on the hot food. A group of lads and lasses ran eagerly through the hall, tying sprigs of evergreens to the legs of the tables. He spied his page, Colin, among their numbers, surprised to see the dour lad with a broad smile upon his face.

  Stacks of long, thick logs were positioned near the three fireplaces. The largest would be saved to light on Christmas Eve, a tradition symbolizing the hope that the clan would stay warm throughout the cold winter months ahead.

  His late arrival to the meal gave him the opportunity to study Davina without her knowing. She was seated in her usual place at the high table, beside his mother, head bowed, expression intense. The conversation between the two women appeared to be rather one-sided—his mother spoke and Davina listened, every now and again nodding her head.

  Davina had changed for the meal into what he assumed was a more fashionable gown. Made of deep blue velvet, it had a tight, fitted bodice and a round neckline embroidered with silver thread. It emphasized the womanly curves of her body in an oddly modest way, yet still managed to heighten her female allure.

  God help him, she was lovely. Irresistible, really. Could he find it within himself to stay away? Or was the reward of getting close to her worth the risk?

  True, he had seen bonnier women. Flaxen-haired beauties from the north, dark, exotic females from the east. But there was something about Davina that reached deep inside him, took hold, and refused to let go.

  She sipped from her goblet, her tongue darting out to lick away a few stray droplets of wine on her lips. They glistened plump and rosy in the candlelight and James’s body heated with the memory of nearly kissing her this afternoon. Shifting his feet, he took a deep breath and shook his head.

  Two more deep breaths and he had his passion under control. Only then did he approach the dais.

  “Where is Lileas?” James asked, as he took the seat beside his brother.

  “In bed,” Malcolm replied. “I guess yer outing this afternoon tired her out.”

  “Aye,’twas an adventure.” James concealed a sly grin behind his hand. “Did she tell y
e anything about it?”

  “Nay, she was nearly asleep on her feet, poor mite. I imagine I’ll hear all about it tomorrow.”

  “No doubt.” James’s glance darted to Davina. She lifted her brow, then shook her head, letting him know she had not said anything. Yet.

  At first the notion of telling Malcolm about Lileas’s little adventure—as he now referred to it in his mind—had seemed like a betrayal of Lileas’s trust. But the more he thought about it, the more James realized that Davina was right. There was no doubt that Malcolm realized his daughter was a handful, but his brother needed to know exactly how defiant the lass could be, in order to keep her safe.

  Nay, he would not try to stop Davina if she spoke with Malcolm, though he would ask her to wait a day or two. ’Twould be a good lesson in responsibility if they could convince Lileas to reveal the incident to her father herself.

  “I, fer one, am not at all surprised the lass is sound asleep,” the McKenna offered. “James brought back enough greenery to fill a forest. He must have dragged the child through miles of woods to collect it all.”

  “Aye, but I’m the one that captured the most elusive prize while hunting game this morning,” Malcolm said in a swaggering tone. “Mistletoe!”

  Their sister, Katherine, recently returned from her religious pilgrimage, let loose a most unladylike snort. “Naturally, Malcolm would make the extra effort to search for mistletoe.”

  “He’s always keen to kiss a pretty lass,” the McKenna agreed.

  The back of James’s neck itched in warning, for he knew precisely which pretty lass Malcolm intended to kiss. He clutched his goblet a bit tighter as he struggled to master his emotions. This wasn’t the time or place for a confrontation with his brother.

  “Mistletoe is forbidden by the Church, is it not?” Davina asked.

  Lady Aileen shrugged. “Many priests willnae allow it to be displayed on the altar, and we respect that decree. But the McKenna hold fast to the traditions of our clan, even though some might refer to them as pagan. We see no reason not to have bunches of festive mistletoe brighten the great hall.”

  “Is it not dangerous?” Davina frowned in confusion. “I thought the plant was poisonous.”

  “Aye, it can be, though most who are foolish enough to eat it suffer with sickness, not death,” James replied. “When I was six, I swallowed one of the berries.”

  “On my dare,” Malcolm added cheerfully.

  James glared at his brother, remembering all too well the sharp pains that had gripped his belly and bowels, even after all these years. “’Twas a cruel prank.”

  “I dinnae think ye would actually do it,” Malcolm exclaimed defensively.

  “’Tis no excuse,” Aileen interjected, crossing her arms. “I stayed up half the night nursing yer brother, worried sick at the possible outcome. All that kept running through my mind were the rumors that Lady Sutherland disposed of her husband by brewing a potion from the leaves and mixing it with his ale.”

  “And I hid under my bedcovers and wept, terrified that James was going to die,” Katherine recalled.

  “Malcolm meant no harm,” the McKenna insisted. “He cried like a babe until he knew fer certain James had recovered.”

  Hearing this for the first time, James turned in surprise toward his brother. Malcolm made a strangled sound of embarrassment and bowed his head. “I dinnae understand how such an innocent plant could cause so much chaos.”

  “Ye were only a lad yerself.” The McKenna shook his head in sympathy. “Fortunately, James recovered without any lasting effects.”

  Malcolm’s eyes grew amused. “Except fer an unnatural fear of mistletoe.”

  Katherine giggled. James glared at his brother, but refused to give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

  “’Tis best we forget that childhood incident and remember instead the legend of the plant,” the McKenna insisted.

  “There’s a legend? I’ve never heard it,” Davina admitted. “I suppose it explains why people kiss beneath it?”

  “Och, but there’s always a legend,” James muttered beneath his breath. “This is Scotland.”

  Dismissing his attitude, Aileen turned to Davina.

  “’Twas Frigga, the goddess of love and beauty, who first kissed all those who passed beneath the tree on which the mistletoe grew,” Aileen explained. “She then issued a decree that whenever anyone walks beneath the mistletoe, they shall have a token kiss and no harm would befall them.”

  Davina cocked her head. “’Tis a most friendly decree. Most of the legends I know have vengeful gods and goddesses doing all sorts of ghastly things.”

  “Ah, but there’s a good reason fer Frigga’s largesse,” Malcolm added. “The power of the plant saved her son, Balder.”

  “With a kiss?” Davina questioned.

  “Nay. According to the legend, Balder, god of the summer sun, had a terrible dream in which he died. Frigga, his mother, was alarmed when he told her of it and grieved mightily at the thought of losing her child. Even more important, if Balder died, so too would all life on earth,” Aileen said.

  “Balder was her second son, wasn’t he?” James interjected, reaching for another drink. “Killed by his brother, Hadar.”

  “Who was blind,” Aileen insisted. “He dinnae know what he was doing.”

  James grunted. “Convenient.”

  The McKenna waved his hand in the air. “Quiet, James. Let yer mother finish the story.”

  James grunted again, but held his tongue.

  “In an attempt to save Balder from the horrible fate of his dream, Frigga went to all the elements, animals, and plants on earth and begged them to spare her son.” A sparkle twinkled in Aileen’s eyes as she warmed to the telling of the tale. “They all agreed to leave Balder in peace, but his enemy, Loki, the god of evil, found the one plant that Frigga had forgotten to ask not to harm her beloved Balder—mistletoe.”

  Davina’s brows arched knowingly. “I’ve a feeling this story does not end well.”

  Aileen’s expression grew serious. “The gods attended an assembly where, being male and used to playing ridiculous games, they took turns in shooting arrows at Balder. All were in awe when they saw that nothing could harm him. Then the evil Loki handed Hadar, Balder’s blind brother, an arrow with a tip poisoned with mistletoe. He tricked Hadar into shooting the arrow and killing Balder.”

  “Alas, poor Balder, killed by his brother,” James muttered.

  “Tricked into killing his brother,” Malcolm corrected.

  With a pointed stare, Aileen ignored her sons and continued. “For three days, the earth grew dark and the skies poured rain. Every living thing and all the elements tried to bring Balder back to life, but none were successful.

  “Finally, he was revived by Frigga and the power of the mistletoe. Legend claims that the tears she shed fer her son during those terrible three days fell on the plant and turned the berries white.”

  Davina frowned. “What about the kiss?”

  Aileen’s expression softened. “Overjoyed when her son was resurrected from the dead, Frigga decreed that mistletoe would never again be used as a weapon. She further declared it to be a symbol of love and vowed to kiss all those who passed beneath it.”

  Davina shared a smile with his mother and sister. “I like a tale that ends well.”

  “Aye, those are in truth the best kind,” Aileen agreed, a trace of laughter in her voice.

  “Enough of legends and stories,” the McKenna said.

  “We need music. Someone fetch old Ross.”

  At the urging of the crowd, old Ross took his place on the dais, fiddle in hand. Two other musicians joined him—one with a drum, another with a flute. The lively music echoed through the great hall, and many started clapping their hands and stomping their feet.

  James found it no surprise that his parents were the ones to start the dancing. His mother moved with grace and agility, while his father, well, what the McKenna lacked in skill, he mor
e than compensated for with enthusiasm.

  Other couples joined in the merriment and then James saw Malcolm move around the high table and approach Davina. Taking her hand, his brother placed it upon his arm and gently pulled her to her feet. Davina ducked her head shyly, yet allowed herself to be led into the middle of the dancing.

  Malcolm stared at Davina like a starving man gazing at a loaf of freshly baked bread. Jealousy burned in James’s veins, making him short-tempered and edgy. A serving girl placed a fresh pitcher of ale in front of him and James almost growled at the lass.

  James remembered the first time he had spoken with Davina. She had been shy, hesitant, and oh, so young and innocent. Yet after that brief encounter he had believed that his future rested with her—though he could never say why.

  The troubadours sang of love striking without warning, often when an unsuspecting lad caught his first sight of a woman. James had never believed there was any truth in the notion, until Davina had come into his life. Yet the emotions he felt for her, the regard he held her in, had ripened over time, until they became a certainty in his heart.

  They were meant to be together.

  Now he felt the fool for ever believing it—and more the fool for allowing himself to remember it. Yet as he watched his brother tease and flirt with her, a powerful sense of ownership invaded his soul.

  Davina belongs with me!

  James saw the two of them share a laugh, then realized that Malcolm was trying to steer an unsuspecting Davina beneath the mistletoe. God’s teeth! The man was relentless. James felt his temper begin to rise. His eyes bore into his brother, but Malcolm was unaware of the scrutiny. He was concentrating much too hard on creating the chance to steal a kiss from Davina.

  James stood. ’Twas his worst fears coming to life—watching his brother openly court his former love. He could feel his self-control slipping as he moved off the dais and approached the crowd of dancers, yet he could no more stop his movements than hold back the sea.