Taken by the Highlander

by Julianne MacLean

  “I’m surprised I didn’t,” he replied, “but I fell asleep—feeling no pain, thank you very much.”

  She set the bottle in the basket and hooked the handle over her arm. “There’s food in the kitchen,” she said. “You’re welcome to come inside and join us for breakfast.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Really? You’re going to let a dangerous intruder like me into your home?”

  She rolled her shoulders self-consciously. “I realize I must seem overly protective, but we’ve had some trouble in the past.” She turned to go. “My mother makes an excellent porridge and she’s rather vain about it. She looked in on you earlier and felt sorry for you. She insisted that you fill your belly before you leave.”

  “I like your mother already,” Logan replied.

  Mairi stopped at the door and faced him again. “How is your arm this morning?”

  “Better,” he replied, “but my head’s not so good. That whisky kicks like a bull.”

  She chuckled. “Aye. That’s why it’s been in the house for so long. Dangerous stuff. Best to be avoided.”

  “Your husband doesn’t partake?” He waited eagerly for her reply.

  She hesitated. “I have no husband.”

  Ah, no husband…

  “What about your father?”

  She lifted her chin and spoke with a coldness in her eyes. “He died five years ago. It’s just me and my mother now—and Hamish, of course.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan said, acknowledging her grief and wondering if her father’s death was part of the ‘trouble’ she’d mentioned earlier.

  Mairi glanced away for a moment, then squared her shoulders and adjusted the basket looped on her arm. “The porridge should be ready by now. The creek is that way if you’d like to wash up. I’ll have a place set for you at the table, but please do not take too long. Hamish is always famished in the mornings. Besides, it looks like rain.”

  Logan stood. “I’ll be quick.”

  Mairi walked out and left Logan standing alone, feeling in a bit of a daze, but not from the whisky.

  Mairi had no husband.

  Was she a widow, then?

  As he walked out of the stable to wash up for breakfast, he found himself desperate to know more about her life and what had happened to her father and husband…if there ever was one.

  For some reason, this woman intrigued him like no other.

  * * *

  “Good morning. You must be Logan.” Wiping her hands on her apron, Mairi’s mother greeted Logan at the door with a warm smile. “I’m Isla. Please come in.”

  Not at all cool and guarded like her daughter, Isla was an attractive older woman with a slim figure, flaxen hair pulled up in a braided knot, and freckles. Logan assumed that Mairi, with her dark coloring, must have taken after her late father.

  Isla stepped aside and gestured with a hand for Logan to enter. As he crossed the cottage threshold, he breathed in the delectable scent of hot coffee, and detected a hint of cinnamon as well. It was a glorious balm to his senses after the past few days in the saddle, and for a few pleasant seconds, it helped him forget the throbbing pain in his arm.

  He noticed that the table was set for four, with a small cup of wildflowers in the center. A small iron stew pot hung from a hook over the fire in the stone hearth.

  Mairi appeared from behind a curtain to a back room and perused him with those stunning dark eyes. The sight of her caused a rush of heat in his blood.

  “Good morning again,” he said, fighting to keep his fascination with her in check. Otherwise Mairi and her mother might boot him straight back out the door.

  She gave him a reserved glance, then moved to gather Hamish up from the floor by the window where he was playing with a wooden toy horse and rider.

  “Up you come, Hamish. It’s time to eat.”

  “Is Logan eating with us, too?” Hamish asked excitedly as he set the toys on the windowsill.

  “Aye,” Mairi replied, “so we must be on our best behavior, mustn’t we?”

  Isla escorted Logan to the table and indicated a chair for him to sit upon.

  “How is your arm this morning?” she asked him as he sat down.

  “Better, thank you,” he replied.

  Mairi served up a bowl of hot porridge and set it before him. As she leaned over him, he couldn’t help but admire how a tendril of her dark, wavy hair fell free about her ear, while the rest was swept into a loosely braided knot at the back of her head.

  She still smelled of fresh roses, and he had to work hard not to lean even closer to take a deeper breath of her.

  Bloody hell. He was a goner.

  Mairi poured coffee for everyone and sat down across from Logan. She was so strikingly beautiful in the daylight, it was difficult not to stare.

  “Mairi tells me you hail from Kinloch Castle?” Isla said as they all began to eat. “You’re a scout for Angus the Lion?”

  “That’s right,” Logan replied.

  “What’s he like?” Isla asked. “Is he as fierce and monstrous as his reputation makes him out to be?”

  “Fierce, aye,” Logan replied. “But I would not say monstrous. Perhaps fatherhood has tamed him somewhat since the old days when he was a warrior. From what I know of him, he’s as good a chief as any clan could ever want, for we’ve had nothing but peace and prosperity since he became our laird.”

  Isla stirred her porridge with her spoon. “I wish we Campbells could say the same. Times have been grim and uncertain in these parts. I presume you’ve heard what’s been happening at Leathan Castle?”

  “If you are referring to the invasion by the English army…” Logan replied. “Aye, I’ve heard of it.”

  Of course he had. Up until last night, that’s precisely where he had been heading.

  Isla and Mairi exchanged a look.

  “Mairi also tells me you are on some sort of secret mission for your laird,” her mother continued. “Dare I ask if it has something to do with the seizure of Leathan by the English?”

  Mairi set down her spoon and waited for Logan’s response.

  He raised some porridge to his lips. “I can tell you this much. I was on my way to Leathan with my brother, on an errand, of sorts. We had a…” He paused. “A package to deliver to the Campbell chief.”

  Isla toyed with her food. “What sort of package could be any good to the chief when he’s locked up in his own prison, waiting to go to the gallows?” Her eyes lifted and glimmered with antagonism. “Which is exactly where that Jacobite traitor belongs.”

  “Mother…” Mairi said with a note of warning.

  But Logan didn’t mind the woman’s honesty. In fact, he was growing more and more curious about this small family by the second. “Why would you say that, Isla? Do you not care for the Campbell chief?”

  I certainly do not.

  Isla gave him a look. “Nay, I do not care for him. Not one wee bit. Do you know he seized control of the castle two years ago when the true and proper laird passed on without any heirs to take his place?”

  Of course Logan knew of it—all too well—for he was one of those heirs himself, the youngest son of the late chief. An unknown lost member of the Campbell clan, living his life in hiding at Kinloch Castle, disguised as a MacDonald since the age of eleven. Presumed dead.

  “What do you know of the former laird?” Logan asked casually as he spooned some porridge into his mouth.

  Isla regarded him intently from across the table. “I know that he was a strong, fair-minded man, and that since his death, the Campbell clan has been divided. There are those who wish to follow their new laird into battle for the Jacobites and those who do not want to rise against the King. And some say the death of our former chief was murder.”

  Logan made an effort not to flinch, for this was not news to him. In fact, it was why he and Darach had fought so savagely the night before—because Logan wanted vengeance against Fitzroy Campbell, while Darach wanted to lay it all to rest. To leave it in
the past and move on. To continue living as scouts for the MacDonalds and never return to their former home or seek revenge.

  Nothing can bring our father back, Darach had said. We are pledged to the MacDonalds now.

  “I heard the former chief’s death was an accident,” Logan mentioned. “That Ronald Campbell was fatally wounded during a hunt.”

  “Pure rubbish,” Isla replied. “Mark my words….” She waved her spoon at him. “Leathan Castle would never have fallen to the English if our true and proper laird had been in charge. That new ‘pretender’ was a secret Jacobite all along. A traitor to the King—and a foolhardy one at that. He deserved what he got. But the clan certainly didn’t. Now the castle has become an English garrison and we Campbells of Leathan have no stronghold to call our own. Many of our friends who lived within the castle walls had no choice but to scatter.”

  They all fell silent while Logan struggled to contain his fury, for Isla’s outspokenness had roused every burning nerve of outrage in his body. It was why he shouldn’t be thinking of Mairi’s rose-scented allure when he needed to leave here and pursue his brother, who was on his way to Leathan Castle at this very moment. To deliver that Jacobite traitor’s daughter with a pardon from the King to save his life!

  Fitzroy Campbell did not deserve to be spared.

  Logan dropped his spoon into his bowl and cupped his forehead in a hand. “This bloody war,” he said.

  A hush fell over the table, followed by the small sound of a sniffle.

  They all looked up to discover tears streaming down Hamish’s cheeks.

  “Why is everyone angry?” the boy asked. Then he looked down at his lap. “I think I had an accident.”

  Isla quickly slid her chair back and took hold of his hand. “Not to worry Hamish. Stand up now. Good gracious, we should know better than to discuss politics at breakfast. Let’s go down to the creek and get you cleaned up.”

  Isla quickly wiped Hamish’s chair with a wet cloth, then walked out of the cottage with him. The house grew suddenly quiet, with the exception of the fire crackling in the hearth.

  Logan sat back and regarded Mairi across the table. “My apologies.”

  “No, I must apologize,” she replied. “My mother has passionate opinions when it comes to clan politics.”

  Logan adjusted his sling where it was tied at his shoulder. “But I agree with everything she said. I’ve heard the rumors about the former chief’s murder, and I have no respect for the new Campbell chief. He has led the clan to ruin.”

  Appearing distracted, Mairi gazed out the window. “Sometimes I wish we lived in a different sort of world.”

  “Aye,” he replied, feeling drawn to the serenity in her voice and the faraway look in her eyes. Then she turned those compelling brown eyes to meet his.

  “Sometimes I worry about Hamish and the future. He’s very sensitive, as you can see. It’s probably my fault. I dote on him and encourage him to be ever so careful all the time. I want to keep him safe, yet I feel I am doing him a disservice in a world such as this, because I also want him to be strong…to be able to protect himself.”

  Logan wet his lips and spoke in a quiet voice. “May I ask what happened to his father?”

  Mairi’s expression darkened. “It’s not a happy story, I’m afraid.”

  “Please,” he said. “I would like to know.”

  For a long moment she hesitated, as if she weren’t sure if she should confide in him. Then she rose from the table and began to clear away the porridge bowls. When at last she began to speak, Logan was first relieved and then instantly riveted.

  “His father was an English officer,” Mairi said, surprising Logan to no end. “He passed through here one summer afternoon when I was alone in the field gathering up hay for the horses. He claimed to be lost and asked for directions. He was very friendly and helpful. He even helped me load the hay into the wagon. But I made the mistake of falling for his charms. He seemed like such a gentleman at first. Then he took liberties he had no right to take.”

  She turned away from Logan and carried the bowls to a bucket on the floor in front of the hearth.

  “He sounds like no gentleman at all,” Logan said with an angry frown while his blood started to boil.

  Mairi stood with her back to him, staring into the flames. “I haven’t even told you the worst of it.” She paused, as if considering whether or not she should continue. Then at last she faced him.

  “When I returned to the house in tears with my dress torn, my father realized what had happened. He saddled his horse and went after my attacker.” She gazed forlornly out the window. “He rode into the forest and never came back.”

  Logan’s head drew back in confusion. “What happened to him? Did you ever find out?”

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “Our friends and neighbors searched for hours. They found him in the woods, dead. He had been shot in the chest. They say he must have drawn his sword, for it was on the ground beside him. I suspect he intended to fight Captain Kearney, but Kearney drew his pistol instead.”

  “You know his name?” Logan asked. “The officer who killed your father?”

  “Aye,” she replied. “It was Captain Joseph Kearney and we reported him. Nothing happened, of course. I was accused of being a whore and a temptress. My father’s death was deemed self-defense and we were warned never to speak of it again. I didn’t, because I didn’t want any more harm to come to us. But inside…” She put her fist to her heart. “I was grieving for my father and so deeply enraged, I felt murderous every day.”

  She returned to the table and cleared away the spoons and milk jug.

  “I don’t blame you,” Logan said. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Mairi.”

  “So am I. Yet Hamish is a blessing, and for him I am grateful.”

  Logan bowed his head and nodded. “Of course.”

  Though he could not disagree with her, he found himself clenching his fist under the table, laboring to hide the fiery rage he felt at the thought of any man mistreating her in such a way. He took a deep breath, counted to ten, and managed to lift his gaze.

  “It seems we have something in common,” he said. “My father was killed as well, a few years back.”

  Her eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “I’m sorry. What were the circumstances?”

  Knowing he could not tell her everything, Logan shifted in his chair, stalling while he considered how to word it. “A fellow Highlander wanted what he had. He killed him for it.”

  A knot formed in Logan’s gut, for if he had returned home to Leathan Castle sooner, perhaps none of that would have happened.

  Mairi slowly circled around the table and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Her touch caused his body to come alive with intense longing and a need to confide in her about everything he had kept secret for all these years. The shame, and truth about who he really was.

  But he knew he mustn’t let that out. If he opened the floodgate, Lord knew what would become of him and Darach.

  Mairi’s voice was husky and calming. “I wish we could have the things we want without any of the heartbreak and ugliness, but that is life, isn’t it? It delivers the good with the bad, and there is nothing we can do to change the past. We must simply accept it, be grateful for the present, and move forward as best we can.”

  Feeling a deep, almost transcendent fascination, Logan glanced up at her. “That’s what my brother always says to me,” he replied. “Darach tries to get me to lay the past to rest, when all I want to do is charge ahead at a full gallop and seek justice for things that happened in the past—like my father’s murder.”

  “By justice, do you mean revenge?” she asked pointedly.

  Logan considered that for a moment. “I suppose… Aye, that’s what I want.”

  Mairi returned to the other side of the table to pour each of them a second cup of coffee. “I understand that feeling, because I felt that way myself for a long time after that horrific day in the field. I wanted t
o find Joseph Kearney and drive a dull, rusty blade through his heart…or do worse things to cause him terrible, unthinkable pain. Sometimes I would lie awake at night and dream about all sorts of gruesome acts of violence. Those were the darkest days of my life.”

  “What changed you?” Logan asked, eager to know her response.

  Mairi set the coffeepot down on the stone hearth and took a seat across from him at the table. Picking up her own cup, she sipped it slowly.

  “Hamish, of course. When he was born and I first held him in my arms, I looked into his darling face and felt something truly extraordinary. I saw goodness and innocence, and I loved him deeply and exquisitely from the very first moment. I never knew a love like that could even exist. It filled me with lightness and joy. After that discovery, I didn’t want to infect him with my hateful thoughts and feelings. I wanted every day to be full of sunshine and happiness for him.”

  She set down her cup and ran the pad of her forefinger over a deep groove in the wooden table. Logan could only sit there, immersed in suspense, waiting for whatever she might say next.

  “Perhaps that’s an unrealistic desire,” she said at last, “but it was as if I were cleansed by my love for him.” She stopped and shook her head at herself. “That must sound silly to you. I cannot believe I just said all that. I’m sure you must think me a dreamer to imagine that life could be pure happiness all the time. It’s not possible. I know it’s not. That’s why I struggle with raising Hamish. I don’t want him to grow up without some knowledge of the world and its cruelties.” She shook her head regretfully. “But heaven help him. He has no father. He’s being raised by two doting females who adore him more than anything in the world. What will become of him later on?”

  “I could teach him a few things if you like,” Logan offered, hardly realizing the ramifications of what he was saying. He had given no thought whatsoever to the fact that he had to leave here as soon as possible and find his brother. “Like how to hold a sword.”

  Mairi’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Now I am mortified. Honestly, it wasn’t my intention to ask anything of you. And I’m not even sure that’s what—”

  “You didn’t ask,” he said, interrupting her. “I offered. That is all. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me last night.”