Taken by the Highlander

by Julianne MacLean

  * * *

  Logan wasn’t sure why he was so surprised to find Mairi waiting outside for him when he walked his horse into the yard. She must have been watching from the window.

  His feet barely had a chance to hit the ground before she dashed into his arms and pressed her cheek to his chest. He cupped her head in his good hand and whispered, “It’s all right, lass. I’ve come to my senses.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered, looking up into his eyes and causing him to wonder how he could ever have ridden away from her. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  Hamish ran out of the house, without understanding what was happening. They must have shielded him from the truth. “Logan! You’re back! Can we go hunting for rabbits today?”

  Mairi quickly wiped a tear from her cheek and turned to speak gently to her son. “Logan can’t go hunting today, darling. He’s had some bad news. Why don’t you go inside and help Grammy sweep out the hearth.”

  “All right,” he said dejectedly, returning to the house with Tomas.

  Mairi faced Logan again and spoke with purpose. “Please let me take you away from here. We’ll go for a ride, just the two of us.”

  Logan was keenly aware of Isla meeting Tomas and Hamish at the door and beckoning them inside—and the closing of the door behind them.

  “Aye,” Logan agreed, taking Mairi by the arm and leading her to his horse. He mounted first, then held out his good arm to hoist her up behind him. She wrapped her hands around his waist and they galloped out of the yard together, across the back field, toward the forest.

  * * *

  “This is the place,” Logan said, urging Tracker to a halt in the sunlit glade. “This is where Darach and I got into the fight that would turn out to be our last.”

  He felt a sudden stabbing sensation in his heart.

  “What really happened here?” Mairi asked, looking around at the evidence of their stopover in the glade—the charred remains of the campfire and the saddle that had been left behind, so carelessly. “You told me there was a woman involved, but I had no idea it was Larena Campbell—that she was the package you were delivering, along with the pardon. I assumed it was some sort of love triangle, a disagreement over a woman back at Kinloch.”

  Logan knelt down on one knee before his saddle and ran his fingertips over the smooth, polished leather. “I don’t even know where to begin, Mairi. There’s so much I haven’t told you.” He bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Secrets. It’s all very complicated.”

  She slowly strolled closer and approached him from behind. “My life is complicated, too. At least I’ve always imagined it to be. You’ve been very patient with me over the past week, Logan, and you’ve proven yourself trustworthy. If you choose to confide in me, I owe you no less than that. Whatever you tell me, I give you my word that I will not betray your confidence.”

  Logan rose to his feet and faced her. “You may regret that promise, Mairi, when you find out who I really am.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’ve been lying to you from the start,” he said. “My name is not Logan MacDonald. It’s Logan Campbell.”

  Her eyebrows drew together with confusion. “But you told us you hail from Kinloch Castle, and you dress in MacDonald tartan. Why would Angus the Lion allow you to be a scout and trust you with such an important errand if you were not a member of his clan?”

  “Because I’ve been masquerading as a MacDonald since I was eleven years old. Darach and I, both. Angus never knew who we really were. He thought we were a couple of MacDonald orphans.”

  “But why would you leave your own clan for another?”

  “I told you…” He bowed his head. “It’s complicated.”

  “Then maybe you should start at the beginning?”

  Logan strode to the campfire—it was nothing but scorched wood and ash now—and suggested that Mairi sit down.

  She sank to her knees while he remained on his feet.

  “Are you aware of the story I told Hamish about the two brothers on the battlefield,” Logan asked, “and the younger one who was afraid?”

  “Aye, he spoke of it,” she replied.

  Logan paced around the glade, not wanting to meet Mairi’s gaze. “There was truth in it. I was the foolish boy who snuck away to follow his brave older brother off to war. Darach wasn’t pleased. When the battle began, I was terrified and regretted following him, but of course I didn’t tell him that. I pretended I wanted to be there, but he was always very protective of me.”

  Logan stopped pacing. “When he broke my arm here in this very place, it was not the first time he’d done something like that. Shortly after the English cannons started firing at Sheriffmuir, he clubbed me over the head and carried me off.”

  Mairi’s eyebrows pulled together with bewilderment. “You deserted?”

  “Aye. But it was worse than that. A fellow clansman found us afterward and drew his sword to force us to return and face our punishment. He said we were cowards and should hang. When Darach refused to go with him, things got out of control. Darach was forced to defend us both and he wounded the man, who probably would have reported us if a Redcoat hadn’t appeared out of the bush and finished him off with a bayonet. Darach always blamed himself for that clansman’s death.”

  “Good heavens.”

  “We left him there and hid in the woods until the next morning. We knew that if we ever showed our faces at Leathan Castle again, there would be a price on our heads and our father would be disgraced. We couldn’t allow that to happen because he was an important man. We were very ashamed.”

  “Who was your father?” Mairi asked.

  Logan faced her squarely and spoke the words out loud for the first time in fifteen years. “My father was Ronald James Campbell. Former laird of Leathan Castle.”

  All the color drained from Mairi’s face as she stared at Logan in disbelief. “The clan believes that he died with no heirs.”

  “That’s right, lass. He believed it, too. He thought we perished during the battle, along with his other sons, our older brothers—although I suspect, since our bodies could not have been found, that he always held out hope.” Logan pressed his fist to his chest and pounded it over his heart. “And that is the shame and guilt I have carried inside me all my life, lass. I’d always wanted to go home, to reconcile with my father…tell him how sorry I was. I would have taken whatever punishment he wished to impose upon me. Even death. I always assumed that one day, when the time was right and I could convince Darach to go, we would return and confess the truth to him. But then he was murdered.”

  Mairi rose to her feet. “So the man who was the target of your vengeance was Fitzroy Campbell, Larena’s father? Because you believed he orchestrated your father’s death?”

  Logan turned away and watched the water bubble gently over the rocks. “Aye. I thought, if I could avenge my father’s death, he would know somehow from beyond the grave that I had redeemed myself, and he would be proud. Then I would have been absolved of this wretched guilt and shame. That is why I wanted to reach Leathan—so that I could kill my father’s murderer with my own hands before the English had a chance to hang him.”

  “But Darach didn’t want you to do that,” Mairi said, rising to her feet and striding toward him. “He wanted you to lay the past to rest.”

  “Aye.” Logan sat down on the bank of the creek and stretched his legs out in front of him. “But now Darach is gone, too, and there is no one left who shares this guilt and shame with me, no one who truly understands it. Justice seems pointless now that everyone is gone. And it’s my fault Darach is dead. If I hadn’t been so impatient, I would have been at his side at Leathan Castle. I would have talked him out of helping Fitzroy escape from prison. I wouldn’t have let him become bewitched by the daughter of our enemy.”

  Mairi sat down beside Logan and spoke heatedly. “His death is not your fault. He was a grown man and only he can be responsible for his actions. You weren’t even there, Logan.�
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  He lay down on the grass and pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You should leave me here, Mairi,” he said. “Go back to your family. I’m not worthy of you.”

  The very next instant, she was lying beside him, dropping sweet, soothing kisses on his cheeks and neck.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, not wanting this. Not now.

  “Please let me comfort you.” She pulled his face toward her and kissed him tenderly on the mouth while she lifted her knee across his thigh. He felt an instant stirring of arousal, and was strangely grateful for it—for it drowned out all the thoughts of his brother, all the pain and the stinging regrets that were crashing around like thunder in his heart.

  The heat of her slender form caused him to draw in a quick breath. She was too close, too lush, and the natural womanly fragrance of her body was an aphrodisiac in his nostrils.

  “You shouldn’t be doing this, Mairi,” he said in a gruff voice. “I have no strength left. I’m weary and all broken up inside. I won’t be able to resist what you’re offering. Not this time.”

  She leaned up on an elbow and looked down at him with love and sympathy. “You don’t need to resist anything, Logan. Just let me hold you.”

  And so he did. For a long while she snuggled close and pressed her body tightly to his, kissing him on the cheek and sharing in his grief. “I’m so sorry, Logan,” she kept saying, while the water rushed passed them in the creek and birds soared high in the sky overhead. Logan closed his eyes and tried to let the sounds of nature replace the deafening noise of sorrow and regret in his head.

  Then Mairi slid her hand across his chest, down over his torso, and lower to the top of his kilt. She stroked him for a moment on top of the thick fabric, then slid her hand underneath.

  Though it felt wrong and selfish to allow her to continue, Logan made no effort to stop her, for he wanted to lose himself in physical sensation, so that he could forget who he was and what he’d learned on this unbearable day. He shut his eyes and a tear spilled across his cheek. Mairi leaned close to kiss it away, then she rolled on top of him and straddled him on the grass.

  Gazing up at her in the shimmering morning light, Logan marveled at her beauty and her soft, gentle form, then he cupped her hips in his hands while she tugged at her skirts, hurrying to push them out of the way and raise his kilt.

  No…this wasn’t the right time. She shouldn’t be doing this…

  She shifted her bottom around and gently—though decisively—took him all the way into her damp, heated depths.

  Logan groaned in ecstasy, though perhaps it was a sob of grief that escaped him.

  “Shh,” Mairi whispered, moving slowly. “Just let yourself go.”

  She moved in such a way, little by little, up and down, that it was difficult to hold out. The pleasure was overpowering and his body began to shudder. He gripped her hips tightly, flipped her over onto her back, rolled onto her and pushed harder and deeper, again and again, for as long as he could until all his thoughts dissolved into nothingness and his bones melted into a strange, agonizing rapture. He continued to make love to her, resisting the imminent peak until heat poured through him and he shuddered violently above her, shooting his seed into her womb without a single care for the consequences.

  She held him tight and whispered loving words in his ear. “It’s all right now. I’m here. It’s all right now.”

  A mourning dove cooed somewhere in the treetops.

  “Are you sorry?” he carefully asked when he recovered himself and drew back to look down at her face. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, you did not hurt me. I wanted to feel close to you. I still want it.”

  “I’m here, lass,” he said, gathering her close, “and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Where had that come from?

  Did he truly mean it?

  A sudden burst of emotion flashed across her face and her chin trembled.

  He wasn’t sure if he’d said the wrong thing and made her sad, or was she happy? None of this was in his normal realm of experience. He had never needed a woman like this, never felt so completely involved and grateful for all that she was—her kindness and virtue—and for all that she was willing to give to help make him feel whole again.

  And to heal herself, he supposed.

  “Don’t cry,” he said, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “What’s wrong, love?”

  She shook her head and fought back tears, then sat up and regarded him with apprehension. “I don’t know. I didn’t say anything before, but perhaps I should have.”

  Logan sat up, too, and frowned at her. “About what?” His stomach turned over with dread.

  “About Tomas. There is something you don’t know about him.” Mairi paused and wet her lips before she found the courage to continue. She reached out and touched Logan’s arm. “He knew your father. He was close to him. He loved him like a brother.”

  A suffocating sensation tightened around Logan’s throat. “How did he know him? I don’t remember him.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “They met on the battlefield at Sheriffmuir, for he lost his sons that day, too. After it was over, they searched together. Tomas found both his boys lying dead, together at the front of the line.”

  Logan bowed his head as he considered this. “Oh, God. If he learns what Darach and I did, he will think us the worst cowards in the world.”

  “No, you mustn’t think that.” She sat up on her knees. “We’ve known Tomas forever. His sister is our neighbor and he is a good, kind man. I’ve heard him say dozens of times that he wished his sons had fled and refused to fight that day, because what was it all for? He once spoke about the laird’s grief over the loss of his sons, and how Tomas wished they could be found, or that they would return. He wished they were saved somehow, that they had survived to fight another day. Now here you are.”

  All the breath sailed out of Logan’s lungs and he rose to his feet. “He cannot know the truth, Mairi. I should leave here this minute and never come back.”

  “No, don’t say such a thing!” she shouted. “You’ve told me the truth and I understand. Tomas will understand, too. You are the son of Ronald James Campbell and you were eleven years old on that battlefield! You cannot go back to Kinloch and continue to live a lie. You must stay here. With us. With me.”

  “And do what with my life?” Logan demanded to know, spreading his arms wide while the familiar, heavy mantle of shame settled back upon his shoulders.

  Mairi strode toward him and spoke calmly, in a soft voice. “Just love me. That’s all.”

  He shook his head at her. “And continue to live with my dishonor?”

  “There is no dishonor,” she firmly said. “You were just a boy. I see nothing in you to be ashamed of. All I see now is a man with regrets, and we all have regrets, Logan. That is life. We make mistakes. But we must learn from them and forge ahead, grab hold of whatever joy we can find. Don’t you agree? We could have a good life here, you and me. We could be very happy.”

  Logan regarded Mairi in the morning light and marveled yet again at her inconceivable goodness and innocence.

  Aye, he could be very happy with Mairi Campbell. He could easily spend the rest of his days doing everything in his power to make her happy in return.

  To love her.

  Protect her.

  To sharing her bed each night and teach her about pleasures she’s never known or imagined.

  Was that it, then? Was this his destiny? Had it been his destiny all along to return to Campbell territory, find this woman and let go of his thirst for vengeance? And to let go of his brother and father, who were already lost to him?

  Was he to lay down his sword, leave the warrior life behind, and become a crofter? Take a wife and raise a family?

  “It’s too much, Mairi,” he said, telling the truth, at least. “I’ve lived my life for one purpose alone. To atone for what I did, and to avenge my father’s murder. Despite
the lies, I’ve been a loyal, dedicated scout for Angus the Lion. I am a trained warrior.”

  She strode closer. “We can discover a new purpose for you. We can discover it together. Over time.”

  He looked away, but she laid a hand on his cheek and forced him to meet her gaze. “Do you not care for me enough?” she asked. “Is that it? Please be honest with me, Logan. You owe me that much.”

  “I care for you a great deal, Mairi. More than I ever imagined I could ever care for anyone.”

  “Then stay,” she pleaded. “And let us tell Tomas the truth. I give you my word that he can be trusted. He would never betray us. And perhaps, when all is said and done, he will give you the peace in your heart that you have been seeking all along.”

  “Peace is a foreign thing to me, lass,” Logan said. “I do not think it even exists. At least not for me.”

  She backed away and looked at him with disappointment. “Are you saying that you intend to leave? That you cannot be happy here?”

  He strode closer and took hold of her shoulder. “I’m saying nothing of the sort, lass. I’ve never been happier than I’ve been here with you. I’ve never known…”

  “What?”

  “I’ve never known such hope before. The loss of my brother has taken the wind out me, but it makes me cherish you all the more, because you let yourself love me today.”

  “I do love you, Logan,” she insisted, “and I desire you as well. I never imagined I could feel that way about any man, but somehow you’ve helped to change me.”

  “You changed me, too, lass, and I cannot fathom the idea of leaving you.”

  “So you will stay?” she asked.

  “Aye, and I will make you my wife, if you will have me.”

  Her eyes lit up with surprise and wonder. “Of course I will have you.”

  “But you must promise me one thing,” he added.

  “Anything, Logan. I will promise you anything.”

  “Give me your word that you will never tell a living soul what I told you today, not even Tomas, your mother, or Hamish. My name is Logan MacDonald, and I’m from Kinloch Castle. That is all anyone must ever know.”