A Highlander's Christmas Kiss

by Paula Quinn

  She suddenly felt as if her body existed only to contain the rawness of her sobs. But she couldn’t fall apart. She had to do something to stop this.

  “I want to see him.”

  He shook his head. “’Tis too dangerous.”

  “Patrick.” She pulled herself together as much as she could and glared at him with the last shred of strength she possessed. “Find a way for me to see him or I’m going to the lord.”

  His hesitation lasted only a moment before he nodded. “Come with me.” He snatched her hand and led her out of the room.

  They hurried through the corridors, avoiding curious eyes, and headed down the stairs, deeper and deeper into Lyon’s Ridge’s dank halls until they came to the dimly lit lower cavern.

  One man stood guard before the wrought iron gate separating them from Cailean’s cell. He looked intimidating enough, with a wide chest, thick arms crossed over it, and an enormous sword dangling at his side.

  “I’m here to see the prisoner,” Patrick told him, stepping closer.

  The guard looked him over with dark, narrowed eyes and shook his head. “Lord Murdoch gave me instructions not to let you see him again.”

  The guard was tall, but dressed in his Highland plaid, the hem dangling around his muscular calves and an even bigger claymore swinging from his side, Patrick was a daunting force. “I dinna care what yer lord said. Not only will I see m’ cousin, but ye’ll leave yer post while I do or ye’ll die where ye stand.”

  The face-off lasted only a few moments. The guard saw something in Patrick’s normally friendly expression that demanded obedience. Temperance suspected it was the same thing most people saw in MacGregors and that that was why they were outlawed. He gave in, unlocked the heavy gated door, and walked away, disappearing down the dark corridor.

  The instant they were alone, Patrick ushered her into the cell with her beloved.

  Cailean stood illuminated by a single blazing torch, his wrists shackled to the wall behind him. He pulled on them when he saw her, wanting to go to her.

  “Cailean!” she cried, rushing to him. When she reached him, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his face. “Oh, Cailean, I’m so sorry! Have you been hurt?”

  “Nae, m’ love, nae. No one has hurt me.” He couldn’t reach his arms around her but he smiled.

  Oh, he smiled! It made Temperance want to scream.

  “Patrick told me what happened.” She turned to Cailean’s cousin and found him waiting outside the gate.

  “Tem, look at me,” Cailean whispered, and she obeyed. “Ye must leave. If Murdoch discovers—”

  “Nay! I cannot let you do this!”

  “Ye willna stop me, lass. D’ye hear? Murdoch is fond of me. He willna do more than punish me, but if he suspects ye… I willna take the chance.”

  “This is all my fault!” She ran her palms over his cheeks, then hugged him again. Oh, what had she done? “I never meant for you to—”

  “I know, m’ love.” The torchlight reflected in his eyes as he gazed at her as if nothing mattered in the world but her. “But now ye must go. Get Gram and go with Patrick. Leave Lyon’s Ridge tonight and—”

  “Nay! Nay, I cannot leave without you! I won’t!”

  “Ye must do as I say,” he insisted, whispering into her neck when she clung to him again. “Please, I canna go on in this world without ye. Dinna sentence me to that.”

  She finally nodded, stepping away from him. She heard him call for Patrick to come take her away.

  But it was too late.

  They heard footfalls and turned to see Edward Murdoch and two of his men approaching. Temperance stood in front of Cailean, blocking him from his accuser. She saw Patrick cast her a look of defeat before he was hit over the head with something and crumpled to the floor.

  No! She went to Cailean’s fallen cousin and shook him while tears filled her eyes. This was her fault! She wanted to tell the lord, but what if Cailean and Patrick were correct? What if they tried to hurt Gram?

  Cailean shouted and fought against his chains to no avail.

  “If Patrick is dead—”

  The lord swished his hand before his face as if swatting away a fly. “He’s not dead. Fortunately for him, he’s well liked, and John Gunns didn’t deal a lethal blow. Did you, John?”

  “No, lord,” Gunns confirmed. “He already stirs. He has a thick skull.”

  “There, you see?” Murdoch said. His gaze turned to Temperance next as she straightened to her feet again. “Step away from him, Miss Menzie.”

  She shook her head. “Nay!” She was done living her life in fear of these men. They had taken much from her, from Gram, and from Linavar. She wouldn’t cower to the Murdochs ever again. “Cutty killed my father.”

  Behind her she heard Cailean mutter a tight oath, but she straightened her shoulders and continued. “At your son’s command.”

  The lord nodded and offered her a regretful look. “I am truly sorry for his actions. Your father was a good man, Miss Menzie. But I cannot let the men think I won’t protect them—even from a lass bent on revenge.” He cast her a woeful look. “I suspected ’twas you who poisoned Cutty. If Cailean wanted him dead, he would have killed him with his sword. Poison is a woman’s weapon.”

  “Murdoch, nae.” Cailean fought his restraints behind her. “Ye’re wrong. ’Twas I who poisoned him.”

  But the lord shook his head. “You take the blame because you love her. You’ve put me in a very tight spot, Grant. The men know you confessed. They are angry enough with me for calling off the fight you had agreed to and letting you take my son to the lists without retribution. They expect you to be punished for this. If I tell them the truth, they will turn their anger on her. I do you a favor by not telling them, because I like you.”

  “Then have me flogged before them,” Cailean insisted. “But let me take her away when ’tis over.”

  “And let her go unpunished? Nay, I have decided that she will remain here and help aid good relations with the people of Linavar by marrying my son.”

  “I will not wed your son!” Temperance said boldly, defiantly. “He killed my father!”

  The lord ignored her and turned away to leave. “Take her away,” he ordered his men.

  “Don’t touch me!” Her command was issued with such venom that Brodie Garrow, who had reached for her, paused.

  He looked over her shoulder at Cailean instead.

  “Put yer hand to her,” Cailean growled with murderous intent, “and I’ll dismember ye the instant I’m free.”

  No one touched her and she turned to Cailean with a whole new strength in her eyes.

  She would see him again. She’d kill Duncan and watch him fall at the priest’s feet. But she wouldn’t marry him. Even if it would bring her father back, she wouldn’t.

  “M’ lord,” she heard Cailean call to Murdoch before she was escorted away. “Wait, I wish to have a word with ye alone.”

  Later that night Temperance sat on her bed with Gram, who held her while she wept. Tomorrow twenty lashes would be delivered by the Black Rider Brodie Garrow in the sight of any who wanted to watch, excluding Temperance and Gram. They were forbidden to witness the punishment and had instead been put away in their room with two guards stationed outside the door.

  “’Tis my fault, Gram. I poisoned that Black Rider. I cannot let Cailean take the blame for something he didn’t do. I wasn’t there to save my father. Perhaps if I hadn’t stayed behind with Will—” William. “Och, dear God, Gram…” Her hands shook and her heart drummed like thunder as the obvious truth became clear. “William shot Patrick.”

  “So Marion believes.”

  “He did it, Gram, and Father knew.” She remembered William’s telling her that he had spoken to her father that day. “I think William told him what he’d done. I think Father took the blame rather than see the man he’d loved as a son killed. ’Twas why his last words to me were to ask for my forgiveness.”

  Gram was quiet for a w
hile. When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle and laced with admiration. “My Seth was the best of men.”

  “Aye, and William let him die,” Temperance retorted angrily.

  “Nay, dove. William wasn’t there to stop it, and I don’t think Seth would have wanted him to. Ye mustn’t be angry with him fer not telling ye the truth.” She held up her hand to stop Temperance from saying anything more. “’Tis time to get on with life and not harbor ill will toward others. ’Twill only darken yer own heart.”

  Temperance nodded, remembering Cailean’s words to her about himself and how anger had almost destroyed him.

  Nothing I touched was dark enough. I left all that I loved and allowed a monster to take hold of me.

  She would try not to let it happen to her, but she also wouldn’t accept a future commanded by Edward Murdoch.

  “I will not marry Duncan,” Temperance swore to her grandmother. “I will not!”

  “Nay, dove, ye will not,” Gram promised. “Cailean will recover from his wounds and ye will take him as yer husband. ’Twill be a marvelous celebration with many delicious dishes and singing and dancing.” Her voice and her words finally comforted Temperance.

  Until the morning came.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cailean was led outside late the next afternoon stripped of his weapons, his plaid wrapped around his bare waist and ropes around his wrists. He looked up, sensing, feeling her gaze piercing the bitter cold and warming him. He saw her in her window and decided that if his plan didn’t work and he perished today, he wanted her to be the last glorious thing he saw.

  She held up her hand to him and he smiled, wondering how he could be so fortunate as to have won her heart. She’d forgiven him and lifted his burden. She’d lit his way out of the deepest canyons of his heart. He wasn’t about to lose her to Duncan… or even to death.

  He wouldn’t die. He bent his head to Brodie Garrow on his left. He’d kill if he had to, but he wouldn’t die.

  Patrick, on his right, remained silent as they walked toward the whipping post.

  Cailean looked around at the faces in the crowd that had gathered in the courtyard beside the lists. He took note of every Black Rider and, most important, Edward Murdoch.

  In just a moment his cousin would…

  Patrick pulled a dagger from his belt and whacked it between Cailean’s hands, freeing him with one powerful slice.

  For a split second Cailean looked down, expecting to see at least one of his fingers on the ground.

  They were all intact. His hands were free and he turned them on Garrow while Patrick pushed up his sleeves and readied his fists and his dagger against the rest.

  A combination of right punches to the nose and jaw and Garrow went down like a tree. Cailean snatched up his sword and ran toward the others. He swung Garrow’s blade against another six mercenaries, taking blows and delivering harder ones of his own while working his way toward Edward.

  He reached the lord in three long strides, drawing his sword as he went. The blade sliced through a snowflake while the rest began to fall around him, and came to a stop at the edge of Murdoch’s throat. Everything came to a halt. It seemed even the sun’s descent paused in the sky. MacRae and Gunns stood fixed in their spots, shocked at Cailean’s skill and boldness in launching such an attack on their lord.

  “Settle yer hounds!” Cailean commanded, moving to stand behind the lord and pushing the blade closer to Murdoch’s neck. “Or I’ll toss yer head to them before I kill them and ride oot of here with m’ woman.”

  “You’ve got bollocks, lad,” the lord said with the slightest of smiles before he shouted for his men to end their fighting.

  “How do you think you can escape?” Garrow called out. “You cannot fight against so many men.”

  “I’m a Grant. Ye’d be stunned to know how many I can fight against. Now back away while I lead yer lord into the castle.”

  Patrick held up the pistol he’d lifted from Fergus MacRae while they’d fought and cocked it at the crowd, keeping them at bay while Cailean led the lord away.

  “He’s coming to get us!” Temperance uttered, and backed away from the window. She met Gram’s eye and smiled. “Did you see him, Gram?” She felt like spinning around in a circle. He’d been glorious to watch, taking on each man who had come against him with pulsing muscles and powerful strikes. If she’d thought he’d never tire, she would have watched him all day.

  And Patrick! Why, he’d struck down hardened mercenaries with a single punch. He had a dagger but he hadn’t used any other weapon until he raised a pistol in the air.

  “We must get Marion!” Temperance clasped Gram’s shoulders and then ran to the door.

  She backed away when she heard voices on the other side. They were coming! He was coming! Her pulse raced and her legs felt like heated mud beneath her skirts.

  She counted her breaths while she waited for the door to open. When it did and Cailean appeared before her, she couldn’t stop herself from leaping into his arms. He’d escaped his punishment. She wanted to weep with joy.

  Lifting her face from the crook of his neck, she smiled at Patrick, who was leading the lord into the room with his pistol pointed at the back of Murdoch’s head.

  “Were ye harmed?”

  She slipped her gaze to Cailean’s concerned one. “Nay, my love,” she breathed, cupping his face in her palms then kissing the worry off his mouth.

  But it was his tight, tender embrace that soothed her own roiling heart. Here, in his arms, was where she found her passion, her safety, that kind of love that came around only once or twice in a lifetime.

  Gram cleared her throat and Temperance withdrew with a slight blush and stepped away when he let her go.

  “’Tis good to see ye again, and unharmed.” Gram tossed him a fetching smile.

  Her grandmother liked Cailean. It drew a small sigh of relief from Temperance’s lips. Gram tolerated many people, but she liked only a few.

  “’Tis good to see ye as well, Gram.” His wide, open smile beguiled the socks right off her grandmother. It remained with a hint of mischief darkening his gaze as he turned to Lord Murdoch.

  They shared no words, but Temperance was suddenly convinced that what she had witnessed outside her window had not been what it looked like.

  “Patrick,” Cailean said, turning to him. “Go fetch Marion and set her to her task. We’re leavin’ soon.”

  Soon? Temperance thought. Why not right now? And why did Patrick shove his pistol into his belt and let Lord Murdoch roam about freely?

  “We will gather in the solar,” the lord said. “Who are your friends here, Grant?”

  Temperance looked at Murdoch taking a seat on the edge of her bed. “Who will gather in the solar?” she asked him, then glanced at Cailean. “What’s going on?”

  Cailean thought about it for a moment and then answered Lord Murdoch’s question. “Gunns, mayhap, though we havena shared many words. Why do ye want any of the men with us?”

  Murdoch stared at him, then blinked and shook his head. “You’ve been at Lyon’s Ridge for almost five months and you have one friend, you think, among twenty?”

  “I didna come here to make friends,” Cailean answered with a shrug.

  Temperance turned to cast Gram a questioning look. When even she had no answers, Temperance took Cailean’s hand.

  “What’s going on?” she asked again. She watched his cool-colored eyes dip to hers and go as soft as his smile.

  “I’m takin’ ye home, lass, and Lord Murdoch is helpin’ us leave withoot eighteen men on our arses.”

  Which home did he mean? The question came to her suddenly and with a numbing truth. He loved his home in Skye and she loved hers in Linavar. Where would he choose to live? It didn’t matter now! He was getting her and Gram out of Lyon’s Ridge.

  “Why would he help us?” she asked.

  “He’s helpin’ his men more than he’s helpin’ us,” Cailean told her. “I sent a missive to m
’ brother Malcolm before I returned here, tellin’ him what I had done and what I had become—and how ye saved me. I told him of Duncan Murdoch. If I know him well, and I do, he should be in Linavar by mornin’. If we’re no’ there when he arrives, William will tell him where I am and what has happened. He’ll come here and things will get ugly. We dinna want that.”

  “No, we don’t,” Murdoch agreed. “But I aid you for her sake. And—I admit I also have a selfish motive that I will discuss with you later.”

  Cailean appeared surprised—but not by the fact that they’d tricked everyone into believing their lord had been taken hostage. He and Lord Murdoch had devised this hoax in advance. How far in advance?

  “My main reason for aiding you”—Murdoch looked at her—“is that your father was my friend for many years, Miss Menzie. He spoke of you often during our dealings. He loved Linavar, but you were always his main concern.”

  Temperance had never stopped to consider that her father might have spoken of her to the lord.

  “He was always fair and honest with me.” He glanced up at Cailean standing at her side and then returned his eyes to her. “And Cailean has those same traits. He’d make a good leader.”

  “Linavar already has a new leader,” Cailean told him. “A man chosen and trained fer the duty by yer friend.”

  The lord smiled at her. “You see?” He shook his head and waved his hand across his face. “About your father, he wanted you to be happy and helping you do that is the last thing I can do for him.”

  Gram clasped her hands together in front of her face and smiled at the ceiling.

  “Up until I last spoke to him,” Murdoch told her, “he thought you would be happy with William Deware. Grant has filled me in on why that isn’t so. Either way, I could not let you, in good faith to your father, marry Duncan. He’s a ruthless, uncaring lad, who will eventually need to be dealt with. And if anyone can keep the hamlet safe in the meantime, ’tis Cailean—whether he leads Linavar or not.”