Her Highland Destiny

by Leanne Burroughs

  Duncan stormed toward her. She raised her chin to meet his frown. This doesn’t bode well. She wanted to shake him out of his anger, wanted their homecoming pleasant. It was awkward enough without him being in a snit.

  He grabbed her arm and wound his way up the narrow stone staircase, flinging a door open, causing it to crash into the wall. Seeing the sturdy four-poster bed, Catherine assumed it was his bedchamber. He’d told her on the journey here she’d be sharing his bed rather than having a separate room of her own as her parents did. Her belongings had already been placed there.

  “You must be tired after our journey,” Duncan stated matter-of-factly. “I shall leave you to lie down.”

  Catherine frowned at his clipped voice.

  How could she get him out of his dark mood? Looking around the room, her eyes landed on the bed. She smiled. She knew one way to get his attention. Might be just what the big oaf needed to dash away his dark mood.

  Sitting on the bed’s edge, Catherine beckoned with her finger. He’d done that to her. She blushed, remembering the night vividly.

  Duncan approached her in two long strides. “You tempt me, wife?”

  She wanted to take the pain from his eyes.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck to bring his face to hers, she leaned close, nibbled his lower lip, and feathered them with her own. A smile crossed her face when she stepped back to look at him. Oh my, when had she started to think of him as hers? Was she falling for her Highland rogue?

  Duncan groaned in pleasure. With her he’d found contentment. Why did happiness have to be so fleeting? Why did life have a way of twisting happy times into bad?

  “Duncan...”

  He cradled her in his arms.

  He’d not thought about his father on the journey home and actually enjoyed this woman’s company. Had he made the mistake of caring for her? How had he allowed that to happen? As his father so callously reminded him, she had been chosen for him. And, Duncan acknowledged, the woman his father selected seemed perfect. Too perfect.

  Unless… No. God wouldn’t intervene and send him the perfect lady to wife. Far too often Duncan forgot all about God—only calling upon Him in times of need instead of thanking Him daily like his mother had taught him. Why would God do something so spectacular for a person who tended to ignore Him?

  No, the woman’s flaws would reveal themselves soon enough.

  The time he’d chosen a wife on his own had blown up in his face. She left him for another man—men actually—turning quite the tramp when she left. She abandoned him just like his father had. Eventually everyone left. Would this woman leave, too?

  Or has she begun to care for me as I have for her? His new wife scared him, having never loved a woman before. Lust and sex, aye. Love, never. And after Helen, he’d made it a point to distance himself emotionally. His father taught him never to trust anyone. Helen had reinforced those feelings.

  But what if...I could make this work. We could bring Meghan home, ignore my father, and live happily. Duncan smiled, his arms wrapped around Catherine’s waist. He rested his head atop hers, inhaling her subtle scent of lavender. For the first time, all was right with his world.

  ~ * ~

  Catherine stirred and stretched like a satisfied cat. Her body now snuggled firmly against Duncan’s back. She trailed her fingers lightly over it, felt the muscles bunch beneath her fingertips, wondered at the scars. She’d noticed them on their wedding night, but had been too afraid to ask about them. She’d decided to wait, let him mention them. That hadn’t happened.

  Duncan turned his head to smile at her. He turned so he held her in his arms.

  “I see my plan worked,” she teased.

  “Plan?”

  “Aye, to make you forget your anger.”

  “I was angry with The MacThomaidh.” Duncan admitted, “He brings out the worst in me.”

  “He matters not. We shall ignore him.” Catherine thought that would be easy. During their journey home, she’d learned there were numerous secrets from Duncan’s past that haunted him.

  Determined she’d not let anything interfere with her newfound happiness, Catherine trailed her fingers down his chest.

  “You didn’t know you released the wanton in me, did you husband?” Catherine felt him tense.

  Duncan moved away and rose from the bed, began pacing restlessly. Did you enjoy the temptress you turned me into? Helen had said those very words.

  Tarnation, have I done it again? Turned my new wife into someone that will look at any man? Mayhap it was my fault Helen became a harlot. Mayhap I’m not meant to ever be happy.

  It matters not. He bent to pick up his plaide. He’d been right from the beginning. He’d not stay with someone his father forced on him. His father and Helen left him, betrayed him—and no one would ever hurt him like that again. He’d intended to leave right away, just as he planned before wedding her.

  Was Catherine no better than Helen, even though she’d seemed so perfect? No better than his father? He’d been such a fool to think this time would be different.

  Catherine rose and stood in front of him, her long brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders.

  He realized his hands were squeezing her arms when she spoke. “Duncan, that hurts.”

  He hadn’t been aware of grabbing her, quickly loosened his hold. He might not be able to love her, but he’d not meant to hurt her.

  She’d tried to bend him to her ways, just as Helen had. When it hadn’t worked, Helen left. Just as this woman would.

  Duncan vowed he’d leave first. No one would ever leave him again.

  Foolish enough to think she cared, he’d just been cruelly reminded that would never happen.

  If wishes could come true, he’d wish to stay forever. But she’d come from a large, beautiful home. Did he actually believe she’d be happy here? Helen turned against him within a fortnight of arriving at Cray Hall. He’d seen the way Catherine looked around his home—the surprise on her face when she’d seen rushes on the floor. If he stayed, how long would it take before she returned to her fancy home? He wished... Nay, it mattered not. No sense dreaming about what he could never have.

  Right now he needed to leave. Aye, he’d do that. After he held her one last time.

  If things had been different, he would have... Nay, I cannot think of what I cannot have. Ah, but he’d remember her. He’d remember what they’d shared for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Seven

  Catherine ran her hand through the dusting of dark brown hair on Duncan’s chest. She thought him the most wonderful of husbands.

  Duncan covered her hand with his, pressing it lightly to his chest. Feeling his heart beating, she felt a frisşon of fear when he said, “I cannot stay, Catherine. Had we met under different conditions, something might have grown between us. However...”

  “What do you mean, ‘however’?” She laughed, thinking it surely a jest.

  “My clanspeople shall treat you well. If you need aught, let Angus MacCombe know. He shall provide whatever you desire.”

  Catherine stared in disbelief.

  “You will not be here?” she finally found the presence to ask.

  “Nay.”

  “You are leaving?”

  “Aye.”

  “We just arrived. Could you not stay a few days before departing?”

  Duncan didn’t answer.

  “Have you pressing business?”

  Still Duncan didn’t answer.

  Catherine shivered when he dressed and walked toward the door. “How long will you be gone?”

  He just stared at her as if trying to memorize the look of her, didn’t answer.

  “Duncan, how long will you be gone?”

  “Forever,” came his shocking reply.

  “Forever?” Catherine’s voice sounded a mere squeak before she lapsed into stunned silence.

  Her question stopped his footsteps and Duncan nodded as he faced her.

  She finally found
her voice. “You do not plan to return?” Her eyes held her disbelief.

  Duncan slowly shook his head.

  “Is this some cruel jest? You bring me to your home and plan to leave me alone with people I do not know?” Her voice rose.

  “’Tis no jest.”

  Catherine narrowed her eyes at the lines of strain etched on his face. “You truly believe you need not explain your actions? You merely think to leave?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Why?”

  Duncan sighed heavily. “Catherine I decided on this ere I left to wed you. It has naught to do with you. ‘Tis why I have things ready to take with me.” He pointed to a small bundle beside the wardrobe. “I had not counted on...enjoying your presence and for awhile thought things might work. However...”

  “‘However’ again. Of a sudden, I hate that word.” Catherine’s lips quivered as he shrugged, his voice trailing off. “You are leaving.” This time she said it as fact rather than a question. She finally believed him, just didn’t understand why.

  After an accusing silence, she cast him a glare. “I was a fool to believe—”

  “You shall lack for naught,” he assured her.

  “Are you so thick headed you think that my greatest fear? I am not worried about things. I wish you to take me into your arms—never to let me go.” She stopped. “But that shall not happen—shall it?”

  “Nay.”

  Tears built in her eyes. “If you really...did not wish to wed with me, why did you go through with the ceremony?”

  “If you will recall, I was not given a choice.” Duncan’s body looked taut with anger after the reminder of their wedding day.

  “I was given no choice either…but we have changed that. At least I thought we had. Feel you no remorse about leaving? What about everything we have shared since that day?”

  Duncan groaned as if in pain. “Och, woman, stop turning my emotions upside down.”

  “Your emotions? What about mine? Do you not care what I feel?”

  “I care too much,” Duncan shouted, “but it matters not. I made it clear I did not wish to wed you.”

  Shocked into silence, Catherine felt like he’d slapped her.

  She stared at him, trying to fight threatening tears, her voice husky with emotion. “How silly of me to forget.”

  “I do not wish to discuss this. You shall remain here.” Being upset, Duncan’s brogue thickened. How could he have been so cruel to say that to her?

  Before he changed his mind or said something else he’d regret, he headed to the door. “I must leave now.” Tilting his head, he glanced out the room’s only window. He still had many hours before the sun set. This time of year it stayed light most of the night. Could he wait and leave on the morrow? Nay. If he didn’t depart now, he’d never do so. He’d lose himself in her, in the illusion of her love.

  At the door, Duncan turned back, surprised to see her large brown eyes clouded with tears of disappointment. As rude as he’d been at the wedding she should be pleased to be rid of him. He didn’t want to think about the time they’d spent together. How could he leave if he remembered her in his arms?

  He shook his head, closed his mind against such thoughts. “The servants shall let you know when ‘tis time to sup. I suggest you rest until then.” After one last look, he took a fortifying breath. “I wish you well, Catherine.”

  “And I wish you well, too, my lord husband,” she said proudly, her back straight and chin tilted. She stood before him.

  “I hope you have a safe journey…until you return to me.”

  Duncan’s mouth dropped. He tried to focus on her words rather than the lush curves of her body. “Did you not hear a word I said? I shall not return.”

  “Aye, you will,” Catherine asserted. “You may have planned to leave and for some silly reason still think you must do so. We shared too much on our journey here. You made love to me, Duncan MacThomas. We made love. There is a difference.”

  At that Duncan smiled. He couldn’t help himself. “You are suddenly an expert on the subject?”

  “Aye, I am. I had a good teacher.” Duncan raised a brow in challenge. “All right, so I didn’t know much when I first came to your bed.”

  Again, he cocked a brow.

  “Very well. I knew naught.” She strode to him and poked her finger against his chest. “But it changed.”

  Duncan couldn’t stop himself. He knew he should walk out the door, but he couldn’t. Blessed Saint Michael, but this woman delighted him. Why did she...? Why couldn’t he...? It mattered not. He asked simply, “What changed?”

  “You taught me about love.” Duncan watched her intently, evoking a blush. “Our joinings were different near the end of our travels. You feel something for me. Deny it as you wish, but I know ‘tis true. You shall never convince me otherwise.”

  Duncan shrugged in sangfroid.

  “What about what we just shared? Are you telling me the love we felt meant naught?”

  This woman was too perceptive. Unable to stop himself, Duncan tugged her close and kissed her hard. He had to do something to prove she was wrong. Had to prove it to himself. He backed her to the wall, pushed her against the door—and kissed her senseless.

  “A man is always ready to bed a woman. It means naught.” Pushing away from her, he moved her from the door. She looked hurt. He’d meant to be crude and had clearly succeeded.

  “I shall not be back, Catherine.”

  Before either of them could say anything, before he did more than devour her mouth again, he picked up his bundle and walked out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

  Knowing she’d hate him for doing it, he slid the wooden bar and locked her inside. He heard her trying to open the door.

  “Duncan MacThomas, don’t you dare lock me in here.” The door rattled. “Open this door.”

  Descending the stairs two at a time, he heard her shout, “You will be back. Do you hear me, my lord husband? You will be back.”

  ~ * ~

  Duncan resisted the urge to race back to his chamber, to Catherine. Dear God in Heaven, am I doing the right thing? He hadn’t known her when he originally planned to leave. Now he did—very well.

  Mounting his black stallion in the courtyard, Duncan informed Angus, “I shall be in Crieff with Grant and Tory should you need me.”

  “Lad, you do shame leaving the lass here with strangers,” Angus chided. “Give it time. Things will work out if you just—”

  “I made up my mind, Angus. While at Drummond Castle I shall decide where I go next.”

  Something about Catherine pulled at him. Made him want to stay, but pride raised its ugly head. He couldn’t do so without his father thinking he’d bested him. Never would he allow his father to control his life again. His father abandoned him, sent him to foster with another clan and Duncan hadn’t seen him again until he was grown and returned to Glen Shee. Did the man know he’d been abused as a child? Would he care? Duncan vowed he’d never let The MacThomaidh know the mistreatment he’d experienced or have a say in his life again.

  His first wife hadn’t stayed. What made him hope Catherine would be any different? Once she realized how small his house actually was compared with the size of the castle, this Sasunnach might leave faster than Helen had.

  He’d not let her cuckold him. He’d leave before he fell further under her spell. Before he loved her more.

  Mayhap he’d set her aside. Nay, he couldn’t do that. He’d never do that.

  He looked back at the door. Although he’d locked her in his room, he almost expected to see the stubborn wench in the doorway glaring at him. She wasn’t there. Duncan clenched his teeth and a muscle in his cheek twitched. He turned to Angus and surprised himself by saying, “Meet me in Dunkeld two moons from now to report on how the lass fares.” He wouldn’t travel far after all.

  Forcing himself to do the hardest thing of his life, Duncan spurred his horse away from his home—from the woman he wanted to spend the r
est of his life with. Before riding through the front gate of his stronghold, he twisted on his steed and called out, “On second thought, meet me in one moon’s passing.”

  He rode away before Angus could comment.

  Chapter Eight

  Catherine knelt on the floor, tried to breathe deeply to stave off the horrible feeling. It didn’t work. She bent to throw up in the chamber pot.

  I haven’t eaten much. Whatever upsets my stomach?

  The chamber door flung open and a maid entered.

  “Lady Catherine!” Siobhán rushed forward and knelt. “Angus sent me to see to you. He worried you did not come down to break your fast. Is there aught I can do to help?”

  Raising her head, Catherine shook her head and moaned.

  Siobhán rose and hurried to the basin to moisten a cloth. She knelt and wiped Catherine’s sweat-drenched face.

  Catherine clutched her belly, everything coming up again. She moaned, thinking, there cannot be any food left in me. Finally she sat back on her heels. “Something I ate must not have quite agreed with me. I cannot imagine another reason for feeling so bad.”

  “Do you wish me to help you down the stairs to break your fast now?” Siobhán queried.

  Catherine groaned at the thought of food. “Nay, I could eat naught.”

  “Then return to bed,” Siobhán insisted. “Rest. Get your strength back.” She helped Catherine rise.

  Catherine chuckled when Siobhán tucked the furs around her neck.

  Feeling miserable, Catherine clutched her belly. Could things get any worse? After bringing her here, Duncan left. No explanation, no excuses, just left. Bloody man! And now this. She’d been retching her insides all morning.

  She tried to sleep, but couldn’t. Thoughts swirled through her mind. She hadn’t felt well since Duncan went away. After he’d left, she’d tried to run Duncan’s abode, make him proud when he returned. He would be back. She allowed no doubts. Well, mayhap a few. Blessed Saint Michael, she had no idea what her lord husband planned to do!