The Fearless Highlander (Highland Defender Book 1)

by Amy Jarecki

  She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. She didn’t want to agree, but what else could she do? She couldn’t stay when Hugh didn’t want her there. Lord, upon her return, Papa would launch into the worst tirade ever.

  Hugh’s arms relaxed as he let out a long sigh. “Our time will come soon, my love.”

  Charlotte wanted to believe him. If only she could convince Papa to allow her to stay on at Fort William through the summer. But she’d ruined her chances there. Her heart squeezed. By taking her dowry, she’d lost his trust, and though she knew her father to be a just man, he would punish her disloyalty severely.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Saying goodbye to Charlotte was always one of the hardest things Hugh had ever done. But this time it was worse. After mounting her horse, she scarcely gave him a look. Last night, he’d repeated a hundred times that he loved her. But she continued to push him away. Dammit, Hugh knew she didn’t want to go. He could only pray that, in time, she’d realize this was for the best. Until things settled and he got back on his feet, she’d live in comfort. This separation was necessary for the clan, for the return of his lands, but she seemed so distraught, as if she truly believed they’d never be together again. It didn’t matter how much he tried to reassure her, she sank deeper into melancholy until her cries muted into deafening silence.

  Hugh stood in the pass and watched her horse fall in behind Farley. She didn’t wave. She didn’t even turn around.

  “Why the blazes are you sending her away this time?” asked Og—Lord, even his brother couldn’t see reason.

  “Didn’t want to.” Hugh regarded Og as a pounding started in his head. “Her father is our only hope for restitution.”

  “And you think sending her back after she used her dowry funds to purchase sheep is going to make everything all right? What do you think the governor will do when he discovers she’s defied him? Jump for joy? Och, if I were her da, I’d give the lass a good hiding and then send her to a convent for the rest of her miserable life.”

  Hugh froze. Had he once thought about the repercussions for Charlotte? No. He’d only been concerned about the clan and his fight to get his lands back.

  “Hugh!” Breathing heavily, Gavyn ran from the south pass, waving a letter. “A missive has arrived from the Baronet of Sleat.”

  He snatched it. “Did the messenger have the brand on his forearm?” Christ, must everything happen at once?

  Gavyn handed him the letter and shoved up his sleeve. “Aye, just like mine.”

  “At least something is working as it should.” Bloody hell, Hugh hardly had time to read. “Og. Saddle my horse.”

  “What the—?”

  “Do it, I say!” Hugh ran his finger under the red wax seal.

  My Dearest Cousin, Hugh MacIain MacDonald, Chieftain of Clan Iain Abrach of Glencoe,

  It is with raised spirits that I take quill to parchment this day. I have solicited the good graces of his lordship, the Earl of Seaforth, imploring him to take up your cause with the Privy Council in Edinburgh. This day I received notice that the esteemed council has initiated an inquiry into the horrendous crime committed against you and your kin. We are forthwith pulling out every stop and using every influence to persuade decision makers to invoke justice.

  This is a grand step in the achievement of our quest.

  Long live the true king.

  Your servant,

  Lord Donald MacDonald, Baronet of Sleat, Chieftain of Clan Donald

  Without another moment’s hesitation, Hugh ran into the shieling and snatched his quill. Hastily dipping it in ink, he scrawled a letter to Colonel Hill.

  “What are you waiting for? Christmas?” Og’s voice bellowed from outside.

  Blowing on the parchment, Hugh hastened outside and leaped onto the back of his garron. “My thanks, brother.”

  He dug in his heels and galloped after Charlotte, praying he’d reach her before they moved into the valley of Glencoe.

  ***

  A group of redcoats patrolled the glen ahead—so small in the distance, they looked like ants. But Charlotte and her party was nearer. Hugh took a chance and whistled.

  Farley pulled up and pointed.

  Hugh pushed his horse faster, wanting, needing to reach her now. She reined her horse and turned. As their gazes connected her face glowed bright as a ray of sunshine. “Hugh!” she dismounted and ran to him.

  His horse skidded and before the garron stopped, Hugh leapt down and closed the distance. Enveloping the love of his life in his arms, he spun in a circle. “I am such a fool. I cannot bear to see you leave me again.”

  “But what about your clan? What about your lands?”

  “It will be all right. I know it. I will no longer play the role of victim. Aye, it may take longer than I’d like, but I will see justice.” Even if he hadn’t received word of the inquisition from Lord Donald, he wouldn’t have been able to let her go.

  “I’m so happy.”

  Hugh gently set Charlotte on her feet. Taking one hand, he dropped to his knee. Yes, he’d posed the question before, but it needed asking again. Before, he’d been a wealthy man. Before, he’d been heir to a vast estate. And now? He was a fugitive hiding in the hills. “I have absolutely nothing to give you but my heart. I promise on my life that I will work hard every day to provide you comfort—a home in which you will be proud, and to provide a fine upbringing for our children. I love you more than the air I breathe or life itself. Will you marry me, Miss Hill?”

  Her hands trembled as a tear dribbled from her eye. But this time, she smiled so warmly, heaven had opened the gates and surrounded them with angels and sunshine. “I never thought you would ask again.”

  His gut twisted—so precarious his situation, he had to ask, “Is that your answer?”

  She rapidly tapped her lips with her fingers as she smiled and cried at the same time. “No—my answer is yes, yes, a hundred and fifty times, yes!”

  Rising to his feet, Hugh pulled her into his arms and kissed her. God save him, he didn’t care who might be watching. He had his woman in his arms and would never again let her go. He savored her soft body against his hard, overjoyed that he would hold this woman in his arms for the rest of his life.

  A throat cleared behind him. “I guess we’ll be off then?”

  Hugh forced himself to step back and regard Farley. He drew the missive from inside his doublet. “Please deliver this to Colonel Hill.”

  “What is it?” Charlotte asked.

  “An invitation to our wedding one sennight hence. That should give me enough time to put a roof on the shieling I’ve been building for us.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “The ruin at the pool is nay a ruin—I’d hoped we could one day use it as a summer shieling.”

  “Us?”

  “Aye.” He cupped her cheek with his palm. “But I’ll build us a fine manse in the Coe as well.”

  “A shieling of our own sounds marvelous—more than I’d hoped.”

  “Och aye, lassie. In time you will have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Charlotte had packed her best gown for this day—just in case. A sennight ago, she’d thought all was lost but now, she stood in the main cottage while the MacIain women curled her hair and primped her ribbons.

  “Have you seen inside your new shieling yet?” asked Bonnie.

  “Hugh hasn’t allowed me near it.”

  “It should be something special,” said Nessa. “The laird worked day and night. Breac told me he made the furniture out of logs.”

  “Wheesht.” Bonnie shook the hairbrush. “’Tis supposed to be a surprise.”

  Charlotte chuckled. “I must admit ’tis a bit difficult to keep secrets with all of us being so close-knit.”

  “Have you seen it then—I mean the bed?” asked Nessa.

  Goodness, she must be blushing to her toes. “Heavens, no—but I guessed he’d made a few pieces from all the timber the men were carting insi
de.” She had a few surprises of her own as well. Charlotte had decided not to tell Hugh about the gold and silver coins that remained from her dowry until well after their wedding. Oh no, she’d already wounded his pride by showing up with a flock of sheep—regardless if they’d been much needed.

  The door creaked open and Lachlan poked his face inside. “Are you ready yet? The men said they’re all growing old.”

  “I beg your pardon?” scolded Nessa.

  Charlotte snapped her hands to her veil. “How does it look? I feel ever so awkward without a looking glass.”

  “You’re prettier than a sunrise,” said Bonnie.

  “Thank you.” Charlotte nodded to the lad. “Very well. Are you giving me away then?” A pang of sadness passed through her for a moment. The only thing this day lacked was Papa’s presence. Everything else had come together like a song. Sir Robert Stewart had brought a chaplain from Appin along with some needed supplies as his wedding gift—bless him, and for some reason Hugh had no qualms about accepting alms from another chieftain.

  “Come along.” The boy beckoned. “I cannot wait to eat the sweet cake Sir Robert brought.”

  Charlotte glanced at the kind faces of the women she’d come to know. True, they feared her at first, but now they knew she would be a part of their clan, they treated her as one of them. No longer an outsider, she looped her fingers around Lachlan’s elbow. “Lead on, young squire.”

  “Do not forget your posy.” Bonnie had collected some yellow primrose earlier that morn and tied them with a pink ribbon.

  Accepting the bouquet, Charlotte bowed her head. “How could I forget such a perfect bouquet? Flowers from the garden of Glencoe.” Her voice trailed off with a sigh.

  When Charlotte stepped outside, the crowd gradually parted, making an aisle until all she could see was Hugh standing beside the priest. He wore a new plaid and doublet she’d never seen before. She leaned into Lachlan as her knees wobbled. Hugh had tied his dark tresses at the nape with a white bow. He grinned with his broad smile—the one that made her heart soar. White teeth, a clean-shaven chin, and eyes of liquid treacle. Oh yes, this was the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life, even if they had to live in their mountain fortress—though the news of the inquisition was the biggest step to emancipation yet. But even that didn’t matter. This day, she would marry the man of her dreams—a Highlander from the most notorious, most rugged clan in all of Scotland—a man with a heart as large as Glencoe.

  Slowly she walked forward with little Lachlan beside her while she tried not to the crush the fragile stems in her fist.

  Not once did Hugh’s gaze stray from her face until finally he stepped forward and took her hand from the lad. “There are no words to describe your loveliness, mo leannan,” he whispered so only she could hear.

  The priest held out his stole. “May I have your hands?”

  He chanted the outlawed Catholic mass in Latin while he bound their wrists together, then looked to the crowd. “Is there anyone present who can attest to any reason why Hugh MacIain MacDonald and Charlotte Elaine Hill cannot be lawfully united in marriage in accordance to God’s Word? If so, you must now confess it.”

  A moment of dead silence passed.

  “Then I shall continue—”

  “Stop!” a man hollered from the back of the crowd.

  Stewart guards muscled Papa down the aisle and pushed him toward Hugh. “We caught the colonel trying to spy.”

  Papa brushed his hands down the front of his uniform, looking a tad flustered. “How many times do I have to tell you the bride is my daughter, you sniveling maggots!”

  With one wrist still bound to Hugh, the primroses dropped as Charlotte reached for her father. “Papa, you came.”

  He gave her a thin-lipped nod.

  “Are there others?” asked Og.

  “I came alone.” Papa reached inside his coat.

  The guardsmen clamped onto his elbow. “Watch yourself.”

  “If I may be permitted, I have in my possession a proclamation from the Master of Stair.”

  Charlotte’s gaze shot to Hugh. He looked like he couldn’t breathe either.

  Clearing his throat, the Chieftain of Clan Iain Abrach inclined his head toward their bound wrists. “If you would please do the honor of reading it aloud, sir.”

  The colonel pulled out a missive and unfolded it. “I shall eliminate the master’s colorful language about the forthcoming inquisition and drive straight to the point.”

  “The king hath rescinded his directive to extirpate all those under seventy who occupied the territory of Glencoe. His majesty has granted pardon to allow the Glencoe men to return to the Valley of the Dogs providing they agree to live peaceably under the oath sworn by their father in the presence of the Sheriff of Inveraray.”

  Hugh bowed deeply. “Honorable sir, this news is exceedingly favorable, and I swear the Government shall nay have cause to doubt our loyalty by the favor you have shown us on this blessed day. I shall never forget the courtesy you have shown me or the respect you owed my father. This is a wonderful day, indeed.”

  Charlotte watched her father’s face while Hugh spoke the words that so clearly raised him up to be a responsible, upstanding chieftain. Yes, he would always remain a Jacobite, but he would own up to the oath he’d just sworn.

  Og stepped in, anger written across his hard features. “What about compensation? What about the Privy Council’s hearing?”

  Papa dipped his head politely and drew his hand away from Hugh’s grasp. “To answer your questions, the inquisition will still proceed. I have been ordered to present my testament. Unfortunately, there was nothing in Viscount Dalrymple’s missive suggesting recompense.”

  “’Tis a start,” said Hugh, his gaze panning the expectant faces. “My kin can return to their lands and, in time, to plant and rebuild.” He again bowed. “My thanks to you, sir.”

  “Though I would have chosen differently for my daughter, I believe we have a wedding to finish.” Papa stepped forward and kissed Charlotte’s cheek. “I wish you happiness. ’Tis all I ever wanted for you, the rose of my heart.”

  Lachlan picked up the posy and handed it to her. “Can we get on with the wedding now? I’m starved.”

  Hearty laughter pealed from the crowd.

  Charlotte’s heart swelled as she gazed into Hugh’s eyes, barely hearing the priest as he chanted the ceremony that would bind them as man and wife forever.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Though the clan had pulled out all the stops and managed a grand feast for Hugh and Charlotte, he had never been so happy to spirit away from them. He carried her all the way up the hill to their new shieling beside the pool. The gentle music from the babbling burn welcomed them.

  “I was planning to cut a path with steps, but with your father’s news, I suppose that will have to wait,” he said, taking the last few steps before they reached the door.

  “’Tis a grand reason to wait.” She curled against him, running her finger over his new cravat. “You looked ever so handsome tonight. I’ve never seen you in such finery.”

  “Thanks to Sir Robert. He delivered a suit of clothes befitting a Highland chief—said it was his wedding gift.”

  Hugh pulled the latch and crossed the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him. He thought of setting her down on the bed, but that wouldn’t be right—not for his wife. He must give her time to grow accustomed to their surroundings. Gently, he set Charlotte on her feet in the middle of the one-room shieling. “At least ’tis warm. I stoked the fire afore the ceremony.” He gestured to the fireplace. “And I built a proper stone hearth so the smoke doesn’t hang in the air. I ken how much it can bother your eyes.” He stood awkwardly for a moment—then realized they could barely see a thing. “I’ve a lamp.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice sounded as nervous as he felt.

  Like a lad, he hastened to the fire and lit a twig. He’d made an oil lantern out of an old wine bottle. Lightin
g that and a pair of tallow candles, he tossed the twig onto the fire and turned.

  Lord, he’d married the bonniest lass in all the world. She smiled, her hands clasped in front of her gown. Made of silk and edged with lace, it was embroidered with violets that matched her eyes—even had violet silk roses gathering the cuffs at her elbows. Hugh had noticed how perfectly the gown formed to her feminine shape as she walked toward him during the ceremony. Aye, she remained a well-bred Sassenach from London.

  He gestured to the walls with uncertainty twisting his gut. “’Tis a bit rustic.”

  “’Tis perfect.” Her genuine grin made all trepidation slide from his shoulders. He’d worked like a dog to make this night comfortable for her, the whole time thinking it wasn’t good enough.

  She glanced around him to the hearth and walked forward. Wrapping her fingers around the handle of a cast-iron pot, she lifted it. “Where on earth did you find this sturdy cookware?”

  Och, she was indeed an angel. Hugh grinned. “Ever since you brought the sheep, I’ve been slipping to my old cottage at night and digging through the rubble—it hasn’t been looted like those in the glen, and some things survived the blaze—like these.” He and Og had scrubbed them with pumice to remove the creosote stains and they looked almost new.

  Charlotte set the pot down and brushed her fingers over the well-oiled mantel Hugh had hewn from an oak. Slowly she walked around the cottage, past the big bed he’d built with its straw mattress—he’d have a feather bed for her soon. She stopped in the center of the chamber and placed both her hands on the back of a chair he’d fashioned from birch wood. “Only two chairs at the table?”

  “Aye.” Hugh chewed his lower lip.

  “We shall need more once children come.” Lord, her cheeks took on a rosy glow.

  Hugh chuckled and crossed the distance, taking her into his arms. “Och, you have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear you utter those words.”

  “I’ve waited far too long for this day, my love,” she whispered, her eyes awash with joy and tears.