Highlander in Love

by Julia London

  Mared slapped his arm from her waist and stuck the candle between them. “I didna come here to rescue a bloody fool. I came to hear for myself why ye put me in such jeopardy. And if ye tell me true, to bring ye to supper.”

  “Supper!” Hugh said eagerly, then sighed at her stoic look, and put his hands on his waist. “Ye donna look any worse for it, on my word—ye are indeed a beautiful woman, Mared. I do think ye are bonnier than whence I last laid eyes on ye, aye. Ye seem different somehow.”

  She was different, all right, and in so many ways. She gestured toward the stairs. Hugh caught her hand and with a charming smile, put it on his arm. “If I’m to escort ye, allow me to do so properly,” he said and gazed at her lustfully.

  They exited the dark underground corridor, and as they made their way up to the main floor, Hugh tried to convince her that it was she he had thought of, her image that had kept him on course when it seemed there was no hope. Aye, it was Mared who had brought him back to Talla Dileas instead of London, where, he reminded her, he might have sold the beastie and kept it all to himself.

  By the time they reached the dining room, Mared was laughing at his fervent whispers of utter devotion, for which one could not help but laugh at Hugh.

  Grif mistook her laugh for something altogether different, and clapped Hugh on the shoulder the moment they entered the room, and hauled him to a seat between himself and Liam. “Ye’ll keep yer distance from my sister, aye?” he warned him.

  “Aye,” Hugh said, boldly winking at Mared across the table.

  Over supper—which, Mared couldn’t help noticing, was rather poor fare compared to what even the servants ate at Eilean Ros—the family discussed their plans. It was agreed they’d all go to Edinburgh—including Hugh—save Anna and Grif, due to Anna’s pregnancy. Natalie would remain behind to help Anna.

  They would sell the gold and rubies at once and pay their debts, then have the emerald cut into pieces to be sold as they needed. The emerald lay in the middle of the supper table. Mared couldn’t keep her eyes from it. That was the thing she was to have found. Not a’ diabhal. Not death. An emerald. A bloody dowry! How could a reference to that magnificent jewel have been so terribly misinterpreted as a curse?

  “How much shall the gold and rubies bring?” Aila asked.

  “Tens of thousands,” Grif assured her.

  “Less five percent,” Hugh hastily reminded him, for which he received a rather harsh glare from the Lockhart men.

  “And the emerald?” Aila asked.

  Grif glanced at it. “I canna be certain, but I would think tens of thousands more.”

  They all stared at the emerald, their thoughts on how close they had come to losing it.

  Later, they determined it was safe to leave Hugh unlocked, for as he pointed out, he had no money or means of transportation, and therefore, was entirely dependent on them to take him to Edinburgh and give him his due. Carson, still rather miffed, agreed that Hugh could have use of one of the old servants’ rooms at the far end of the house until they left for Edinburgh.

  All of the Lockharts were eager to put their poverty behind them, and they decided they would do so at once. They would leave two days hence.

  That night, safely ensconced in her old tower chamber, Mared paced before her warm hearth, her braid swinging above her hip as she turned, again and again.

  At last she took up pen and paper.

  To the Right Honorable Laird Douglas, Master of Sheep and Other Dubious Livestock, Greetings from Talla Dileas.

  I hope this letter finds you well.

  She glanced up, looked out the narrow window to the star-filled night. How are you? she wanted to ask. Will you sleep at night? Who will turn down your bed and straighten the linens the next morn once you’ve thrashed about? Who will launder your clothing?

  The shock of her abrupt change in fortune had begun to wear down, and now all Mared could seem to think of was Payton…and where this reversal in her family’s fortune left them. They had enjoyed a magical weekend—she had thought it marked a change in their mutual history. She supposed she had thought she would marry him. But now, she wasn’t so very certain of that. Didn’t she owe it to herself to experience the life that had been denied her because of that curse?

  I am pleased to inform you that we are to Edinburgh on Thursday so that we may reclaim our fortune and our destiny and pay our many debts. Naturally, we will pay our debt to you first and foremost.

  She paused and gazed out at the stars again. How can I leave you behind? How can I not? I am free now, Payton. I am free to travel and to dance and to walk among citizens of the world without fear of censure.

  We shall reside in Edinburgh for at least a fortnight while we tidy our affairs. I hope in that time you will keep your sheep from grazing our land, for we may bring home more cattle. Father has spoken of it with great enthusiasm, in spite of Griffin’s assertion that the market for Highland cattle is dwindling.

  She stopped writing. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know if I can even breathe if you are not near. I only know that I must reclaim the life I’ve lost in the course of suffering the curse. I’ve never tasted true freedom, not like you, and not a day in my life. I must know what it is.

  Anna and Griffin will stay on at Talla Dileas, as Anna cannot travel, and someone must look after the property and my dogs. I have asked Mr. Dudley to keep a vigilant eye on them, for I know you do not care to have them herd your sheep.

  She paused again. I can’t say when I shall return to Talla Dileas. I feel an overwhelming and necessary obligation to go into the world and live. Do you want me to stay? Now that your debt is repaid, do you still have the same feelings for me? You didn’t say anything, you said only that you understood.

  Please give my regards to Una and Rodina. I shall keep my eyes and ears open for a housekeeper to suit you; one with fine laundering skills, of course.

  Yours always,

  M

  My heart will always be tilted toward you. You are forever a part of me.

  She put down the pen, took a bit of wax and sealed it, and then, for at least the tenth time that day since hearing the news of her freedom, she put down her head and cried.

  A steady, cold rain had begun to fall, and Payton stared out through the rivulets on the window at the bleak countryside. He’d read her letter a third time, trying to read something—anything—between the lines, but he could find nothing. No hint of her feelings, nothing but the giddiness she felt at her imminent departure for Edinburgh.

  He had, with the help of copious amounts of whiskey, resolved himself to the inevitable end once again. He had made himself face the fact that the feelings she might have developed for him while in his service had not held up under the mantle of freedom.

  He understood how that might be so…yet he could not, in his heart of hearts, conceive of how she could ignore the magic that had happened between them. She had given him her virginity. She might very well be carrying his child. Could she leave without at least a bit of conversation?

  He glanced at the mantel clock. She’d been away from him for thirty-six hours. In twenty-four hours more, she’d be beyond his reach. Payton glanced at the letter, and gritting his teeth, he crumpled it in his hand and tossed it in the fire. He’d not accept this. She would not leave Talla Dileas without at least giving him a proper farewell.

  He arrived at Talla Dileas just after luncheon the following day. Dudley took his cloak and hat, showed him to the small drawing room where he might warm himself and dry his boots. He was standing before the fire doing precisely that when Mared entered the room.

  He felt her before he saw her—he had come to sense her presence and miss it as much as the air he breathed. He turned, and his heart sank at the sight of her—she was wearing an old green gown he’d seen her in a dozen times before, but it hardy mattered. In his eyes, she was achingly beautiful. Her hair hung freely down her back in long waves, pinned back from her face with gr
een ribbons. She wore her boots, and he noticed a bit of mud on them, as if she’d just come back from a walk in the rain. Indeed, she must have done so, for her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkling.

  She glanced at the open door when she saw him and very carefully pushed it to—not completely shut, but enough to afford them a bit of privacy—then turned around, clasped her hands before her, and smiled uncertainly.

  This was not the same eager woman he’d last held against that tree. This one seemed nervous. Out of sorts.

  “How are ye?” he asked quietly.

  “Well,” she said unconvincingly. “And ye?”

  He shrugged. Looking at her now, he was struck by a vivid reminder of her naked body, how she had felt in his arms. How their coupling had been so very right.

  There was no reason to prolong his agony. “Ye are to Edinburra, then,” he said shortly.

  She dipped her gaze to the hearth and nodded. “We will reclaim our fortune.”

  “So ye’ve written,” he said, feeling suddenly at sixes and sevens. He didn’t know what to say. It seemed as if he’d already spent too much time begging Mared to requite his love for her. He had only the ravages of his pride left, and he did not believe that he could give that up, too, to beg her to stay now. With a frown of frustration, he shoved a hand through his hair and looked at the fire.

  “It is the social season,” Mared said behind him. “There will be balls and soirees and such.”

  Yes, yes, he knew all about the social season. He’d been through enough of them that he didn’t give a damn about it. The people who comprised “society” were leeches, and they would suck the uniqueness from her, seek to mold her in their image.

  “I’ve no’ been through a social season,” she said with a bit of a nervous laugh. “I’ve no’ had the liberty until now….”

  She didn’t need to say more. It was clear to Payton that she would choose the chance to attend endless soirees over him.

  His head was suddenly aching and he put his hands to his temples, rubbing them. “Have ye considered that ye might be with child?” he asked hoarsely.

  The lass blanched. Then blushed furiously and glanced at the door. “I am no’—”

  “How can ye be sure?”

  “I can be sure and I am very sure,” she said, looking pointedly at him.

  He sighed and dropped his hands, fighting the urge to take her into his arms, hold her captive. He made an effort to gather up the last bit of his courage, for he would need every bit of it to say good-bye.

  Mared was looking at him with concern and, he hoped, a wee bit of affection. She took a few halting steps toward him. “Are ye…are ye all right?” she asked softly.

  His pride now completely shattered, Payton felt the blood drain from his face, and he grimaced. “How could I possibly be all right?” he bit out.

  Mared’s eyes softened, and she stepped closer. “Payton…” She put her hand on his arm.

  One touch was all it took. He looked up at those green eyes and moved before he could think, roughly embracing her, holding her tightly to him.

  “Oh, Payton!” she cried softly in his ear. “I’m so sorry, I am! But I donna know what to do! I feel I must go, for it is something I have needed all my life. I have needed to be free. I have needed to be normal!”

  “Why can ye no’ be normal here? What about us?” he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders and setting her back a bit. “After what has gone between us, what about us?”

  “I donna know, I donna know,” she cried and closed her eyes, pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “I am so confused!”

  Damn her, but he could feel her confusion acutely and with a weary sigh, he let go of her and put his arms around her, his hand to the back of her head. “How long, then? How long will ye be away?”

  “I canna say.”

  He closed his eyes, pressed her head to his shoulder. “Mared…I love ye, lass,” he managed to say.

  She reared back, took his face between her hands, her green eyes shining. “I know, I know, and I…I love ye, too, Payton. I do. Ye canna believe otherwise. But I have lived with the curse all my life, and the one thing I have wanted was the chance to be like everyone else. I want to feel what that is like. I want to meet people who have no notion of that wretched curse. I want to see the world outside of these lochs where that wretched curse has existed. I was once in Edinburra and I know I will be completely free there. I will never be completely free here, no matter that the curse is solved. There will always be those who believe it. Can ye understand?”

  He could understand it clearly—she wanted the one thing he could never give her. She wanted to be away from the lochs, where he was bound to remain by duty and honor and history.

  With a sad smile, he covered her hands at his face and pulled them down, kissed the backs of them, then kissed her tenderly. “That’s it, then, lass,” he said quietly.

  “’Tis no’ the end, Payton—”

  “Let’s no’ fool ourselves, aye?” He dropped her hands and stepped back. Mared looked down, away from his gaze. She knew it, too, and his heart wrenched so badly that he grimaced with the pain of it.

  He pushed a thick lock of her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve a good-bye gift for ye,” he said and reached into his pocket.

  She reluctantly lifted her head as he withdrew it and opened his palm. He held the luckenbooth he’d commissioned on the occasion of their long forgotten betrothal.

  Mared gasped softly and looked up at him with dark green eyes for a moment, then at the luckenbooth again. Carefully, she took it from his palm, held it up, admiring the twinkle of the gems in the firelight.

  “Donna throw it at me, aye?” he asked wryly.

  “Payton…it is even more beautiful than the first time I held it. I canna take it. I donna deserve it.”

  “Aye, ye donna deserve it in the least,” he agreed. “But I want ye to have it, Mared. I had it made for ye, and…and I hope that ye will wear it in Edinburra.”

  She turned it over, smiling as she examined the fine craftsmanship. “How did ye ever find it again?”

  “A lot of kicking about,” he said, ashamed that his voice had gone rough with emotion.

  She closed her hand around it and glanced up at him. “Thank ye, Payton. I’ll treasure it always.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him lightly as her hand trailed lithely down his arm, until she slipped her hand into his.

  There seemed nothing left to say. They stood staring at one another until Payton could endure it no longer. With his lips pressed firmly together, he touched her chin with two fingers, and with the pad of his thumb, he wiped away the single tear that had fallen from her eye. “Godspeed,” he said and stepped away from her.

  He felt the draft of her leaving him even though she hadn’t moved, and made himself walk out of Talla Dileas before his grief consumed him.

  Twenty-six

  EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  T he gowns were still arriving several weeks after the Lockharts had landed in Edinburgh, in all the colors of a silken rainbow, as well as slippers and hats and gloves and jewelry.

  Ellie worked to keep Duncan’s chubby hands from the parade of clothing as Mared displayed her latest purchases. “Heavens, Mared!” she exclaimed. “Will you give your new fortune to the modiste?”

  Mared laughed and held up a celery green and plum silk dress. “Can ye blame me, then?”

  “No,” Ellie said, her smile fading. “In truth, I cannot. You deserve these things after what you’ve endured. But there are so many.”

  “Father gave me funds to do with as I please,” Mared reminded her.

  “Yes, but…but I wonder if perhaps he thought you might put some of it aside for your future?” she asked and caught Duncan’s hand and led him away from the slippers he’d found.

  “I am putting it into my future,” she said airily. “I may very well receive an offer of marriage. Can ye imagine, Ellie? Someone to offe
r marriage for me?”

  “Someone has offered,” Ellie quietly reminded her.

  Mared stilled and glanced at Ellie from the corner of her eye. “’Tis no’ the same. Besides, ye were the one who urged me to come here, aye?”

  “Yes I did, didn’t I?” Ellie asked. She sighed wearily and sat in an embroidered armchair with Duncan on her lap.

  “Why do ye sigh so?” Mared asked, putting aside the celery green silk and picking up a red one to hold before her.

  “Because I only meant that you should come for a time and enjoy yourself. But now I fear I encouraged you wrongly and you will be hurt.”

  Mared laughed and looked over her shoulder at Ellie. “Why on earth would I be hurt? Have ye no’ heard, Ellie? I am the season’s shining star.”

  “I’ve heard from Miss Douglas that you are quite the favorite among gentlemen of the season.”

  “Oh?” Mared asked, smiling over her shoulder.

  “Mmm,” Ellie said. “You are the talk of all the drawing rooms on Charlotte Square, apparently.”

  With a laugh, Mared turned around again to admire the red gown. “There, ye see?”

  “Mared, listen to me. Aristocratic gentlemen will say anything when they dance with you, but an offer of marriage would only come after they had ascertained your worth. And even then, there are family lines to consider, pedigrees…”

  “Ellie!” Mared cried. “Ye sound as if ye donna believe the Lockharts are a proud and true Scottish family.”

  “Of course I do, Mared. I am one, after all,” Ellie said politely. “What I am trying to impart is that these men are not particularly interested in the Lockhart name. They are interested in how far they might…well, know you…without offering for you.”