The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3)

by Barbara Longley

  Once the meal ended, William stood. “To my solar, if it pleases you, Edward.”

  “It does, though I dinna wish to say aught without young Alastair there. ’Tis him we’ve come to fetch. He’ll want to hear how and why he came to be with his ma’s clan and no’ his own, aye?”

  “He’s called Hunter and has been since he was a bairn of but four.” Malcolm beckoned to Allain. “Go find your master, lad, and be quick about it. Tell him his presence is required in the laird’s solar.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Allain bobbed his head even as he took off at a run.

  Hunter’s family and the MacConnells made their way to the stairs leading to the floors above, and Meghan’s insides knotted. As much as she longed to find out what was going on, she had no business joining them. This was strictly family business, and she wasn’t family. She trailed after Robley and Erin, and when they veered right toward the stairs leading to the earl’s third-floor solar, she veered left, heading for her turret chamber.

  “Wait, Lady Meghan!” Sky’s hurried footsteps echoed along the corridor. She grabbed Meghan’s arm to stop her. “Hunter will want you there.”

  The jealousy she always felt around Sky flared, and she tried to squelch it before the younger woman could get a fix on her emotions. “I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “I’m not—”

  “Hunter does no’ love me.” Exasperation laced Sky’s tone as she tugged on Meghan’s arm. “Surely you of all people ken as much.”

  “No. I don’t.” Meghan huffed out a breath. Even if Sky was right, it didn’t make any difference. Hunter wouldn’t give up on the idea of marrying Sky. Besides, what business was it of hers? She would travel to Inverness, confront Madame Giselle and go home—where she belonged. “This is a personal matter, and I’m not a MacKintosh . . . or a MacConnell.”

  “Think you none noticed my brother reached for you when he was overwrought?” Sky placed her hands on Meg’s shoulders and gave her a shake. “Do you no’ ken you’ve no reason for the animosity you hold toward me? Even if you’d never come to us, I would no’ marry Hunter. He is my brother, nothing more. He’s just too thickheaded to grasp what the rest of us can see so plainly.”

  Her brow rose. “Which is?”

  “He loves you, my lady. I sense it. My mother and Lady Erin sense it. Even wee Hannah Rose can see it is so. With the exception of my halfwit of a brother, all of us ken the truth of the matter.”

  Meghan had to smile at the tone Sky used while calling her foster brother a halfwit. She’d used the same tone when talking about her own brothers. “It doesn’t matter. I’m—”

  “’Tis obvious you love him as well.” Sky rolled her eyes. “God’s blood, but the MacKintosh are a stubborn lot, and I trow the McGladreys are as well.”

  Love him? She couldn’t deny it, so she said nothing at all.

  Sky took Meghan’s hand. “Come, my lady. Hunter needs you. He’s always been plagued by doubt when it comes to his place in our clan.” She shook her head and sighed. “For all his prowess as a knight, he still carries a great deal of uncertainty within him—and anger. ’Tis a shame, really.” She glanced at Meghan over her shoulder. “He is most frightened of the very thing that could rid him of his insecurity.”

  She couldn’t imagine Hunter being afraid of anything. “What would that be?”

  “Why, giving his heart, of course.” Sky frowned as if she doubted Meghan had the wits to put two and two together. “Hunter is afraid of losing the rigid control he exerts over every aspect of his life. Why else do you think he wants to wed me? For pity’s sake, I’m his sister! ’Tis security and assurance he seeks. Nothing more. He feels no passion for me, nor do I feel aught but sisterly affection for him. I want my brother to be happy. He needs you. ’Tis certain this is why the faerie led him to you.”

  Her stomach knotted. Could that really be the reason she’d come to this century? Had the faerie brought them together because Hunter needed her? There was no doubt the two of them were drawn to each other. He fought it, while she tried to hide it.

  She should have realized everyone would be able to pick up on the attraction she and Hunter shared. At least now she knew for certain she hadn’t imagined his part of the equation. Still, what good did it do her? She had a place and a family across time, and the possibility of never seeing them again tore her to pieces. And if she couldn’t get home, Hunter might never admit he cared for her. Where would that leave her?

  Brokenhearted and alone, that’s where. She didn’t want to marry Tieren. It wouldn’t be right, and the possibility that she might have to just to survive held no appeal. He deserved so much more than she could give him.

  “Hunter will join us in the solar anon, and Edward only awaits his presence before beginning. I dinna wish to miss a single word of Edward’s tale. Do you no’ want to hear it told?”

  “Sure.”

  They reached the solar at the same time Hunter came up the back stairway. One glance at his face, and her heart slid into a downward spiral. He had a haunted look about him. His mouth was drawn into a tight line as his gaze darted from her to Sky and back again. Saying nothing, he opened the door for them.

  Sky entered the room first. Meghan followed. A second before she crossed the threshold, Hunter’s hand came to rest at the small of her back. Even that slight touch sent a rush of longing through her. She wanted to turn around and wrap him up in her arms. The overwhelming need to comfort him stole her breath. Just as quickly, he took his hand away, leaving her bereft.

  Benches from the great hall had been set around the room, and all were seated. Catching her attention, Sky patted the spot beside her where the women were situated. She settled herself next to True and Malcolm’s daughter. All the jealousy she’d felt toward Sky melted away. Maybe they could be friends after all.

  As if sensing her feelings, Sky nudged her with her shoulder and sent her a warm smile. She smiled back. Of course Sky sensed her emotions. That’s what the MacKintosh did—some of them anyway.

  Her gaze roamed to Hunter, only to find him staring at her. She nodded, trying to send him reassurance. He gave her a slight nod back.

  “We would hear the reasons why Hunter’s mother took him from his birthright, and why you seek him now,” William said, taking his place at the scarred oak table that served as his desk.

  Edward remained standing, his posture proud and straight, and his two sons flanked him. Both of the younger men remained stoic and silent. “I would have your word first, my lords, that naught said this eve shall leave this room. It is imperative.”

  The earl glanced at Hunter, and then at Malcolm and Robley. They nodded their assent. “Lydia, my dear . . . ?”

  “Of course we shall keep it to ourselves, my lord.” She arched a single brow at her husband, and a round of feminine head-bobbing ensued.

  “What do you ken of your clan, lad?” Edward turned to Hunter, who leaned against the wall.

  “I ken naught of the MacConnell clan,” he said, the muscles in his jaw twitching away.

  Edward sighed, and his expression held regret. “The MacConnell clan once held all of the western seaboard of Scotia. We were a vast and great kingdom.” He scratched at his full beard. “Och, this next part you might find . . . difficult to accept. The first MacConnell, our founder, came here from Eire and wed one of the ancient ones, a Tuatha Dé Danann princess named Áine.”

  When that bomb didn’t elicit an outcry, Edward gaped around the room. Poor guy. He had no way of knowing nearly half the people in the earl’s solar carried faerie genes.

  “Go on,” Malcolm encouraged.

  “The alliance gave us certain advantages, and for centuries we prospered. Our king’s progeny carried uncommon . . . abilities, as do many of their direct line to this day.” Again he peered around at the faces of those gathered as if gauging their reaction. “In the olden days, before Christ
ianity came to our land, unions forged between the fae and the MacConnells were no’ uncommon. Many of our clan carry fae blood, but . . .”

  “But?” Hunter sent the man a hard stare.

  “But no’ our most recent laird, the old baron DúnConnell.” Edward’s tone held bitterness. “The gifts were strong in your da, and it caused quite a rift between father and son. Your grandsire Alastair was a devout man, hard and unyielding. He looked upon anything having to do with the fae or the old ways with distrust and hatred. He looked upon those possessing fae gifts as heretics. Your da and his father were estranged, and when your da wed your ma, the baron finally had an excuse to banish Mahon from the clan.”

  “Yet my mother named me after him?” Hunter straightened off the wall, his hands fisted at his sides.

  “Aye. Joan was a spirited lass.” Edward’s mouth turned up in a brief smile. “I believe ’twas an act of defiance on her part. She claimed the baron as your grandsire, whilst the baron denied her very existence.”

  Raking his fingers through his hair, Hunter growled deep in his throat. His eyes narrowed. “You said was. The baron was a hard man.”

  “Aye. You have it aright. He has passed.” Edward looked around the room, meeting each of the men’s eyes in turn. “His eldest and middle sons died years ago. Young Alastair . . . er . . . Hunter is the last remaining heir in the baron’s direct line. He is our clan’s laird and our liege lord, and we’ve come to bring him home.”

  Hunter moved to one of the benches and dropped down. He’d gone pale, and emotions played across his face in rapid succession. Disbelief, anger and grief were plain to see. “No’ a word have I heard in all these years, and now you tell me . . .” He shook his head. “I’m a baron?”

  “At the time, all who loved you thought it best you remain here where the baron’s hatred could no’ touch you.” Edward sent Hunter a pleading look. “None kent how far old Alastair would go in his zealousness to rid the clan of fae influence. I escorted your ma here for her safety. I left you here thinking I’d done the best I could for you.”

  “There’s more.” True stood, her face ashen. “You must tell us all.”

  Edward’s gaze flew to her. He studied her intently, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Aye. There’s more, my lady. Our holdings are but a small portion of what we once held, but they are rich in resources. We are surrounded on all sides by the MacKenzies, who wish to destroy us and steal what is ours. We’ve been harried, raided, ambushed and under siege for more than a decade. The baron and his eldest son were both murdered by the accursed MacKenzies. We canna survive without a strong laird to lead us.”

  Edward nodded toward Hunter. “One of our clan’s wisewomen had a foreseeing. ’Tis how I kent Hunter still lived amongst the MacKintosh clan. Young Hunter will rebuild our clan, bring us strength and lead us once more into prosperity.”

  Meghan’s chest filled with pride for Hunter. He was a born leader. She’d recognized that right away, and now he would lead an entire clan. She needed to talk to him, or listen at any rate. She couldn’t bear seeing him so torn up.

  Malcolm grunted and rubbed his forehead. “This comes as quite a shock. His mother and I have missed him sorely these past five years, and he’s just recently come home to us from the continent. Now you tell us he’s to return to the MacConnells to fight your battles for you?”

  “Aye. ’Tis so. We would ha’ come sooner, but . . . first we had an errand to attend to.” Edward pulled a folded piece of vellum from his sporran. A blob of dark-red wax with an emblem pressed into it sealed it shut. “Our king has already recognized Hunter’s succession.” He held it out. “I did no’ wish to take any chances. Young Alastair’s patents have been drawn and recorded. He has already been granted the title and all of the lands and estates that come with it.”

  Hunter lunged to his feet and snatched the vellum from Edward. His hands trembled as he broke the seal, opened it and read. Handing it to Malcolm, he glared at the MacConnells. “If I refuse to accept, is there someone else to—”

  “You canna refuse to accept, my lord. Your king has recognized you as the new baron of DúnConnell, and that is who you are.” Edward reached again into his sporran, this time drawing forth a signet ring. He handed it to him.

  Hunter studied the ring. It held a crest with a bloodred ruby set above it. He dropped it into his sporran. “Baron or no, mayhap I’ll leave for the continent.” He lifted his chin. “The MacConnells have done naught for me. I see no reason to do aught for them.”

  “Hunter, you don’t mean that.” The words left Meghan’s mouth before she knew she meant to say them.

  “Do I no’, my lady?” He turned his bitterness toward her.

  Instinct drove her, and she shot off the bench. “If you will excuse us”—she strode to Hunter’s side and wrapped her hands around his biceps—“the baron and I need to talk. I need to—”

  “Knock some sense into him?” Erin quipped.

  “Exactly,” she muttered, scowling at him. “A moment of your time, my lord?” The pain she glimpsed in his eyes brought a sting to hers. She needed to get him out of the solar and away from Edward and his sons.

  “Go, lad,” Malcolm said softly. “We’ll speak of this again on the morrow.”

  Hunter’s head snapped up. “We are to leave at daybreak for Inverness.”

  “Under the circumstances, I think we can wait one more day.” Once again she wanted to wrap her arms around him. He was definitely channeling the lost little boy he’d been after his granny died.

  Hunter glanced at the MacConnells where they continued to stand, and then his eyes swung to hers. “Aye, let us take a stroll, my lady.” He ushered her to the door and into the corridor.

  “Where can we find some privacy?”

  “To the loch . . . where we skipped stones across the water.” He gripped her hand again.

  “OK. To the lake.” Neither of them spoke as they left the keep. He practically dragged her through the kitchen, ignoring the startled stares of the cook and her helpers. They continued on along the path through the herb garden toward the postern gate.

  How could she get through to him? What could she say that would break through the shield of anger he’d wrapped around himself? Once they were through the gate, they followed the path to the same place where he’d nearly kissed her right out of her tunic and tights. Her pulse kicked up, and her breath caught in the middle of her throat.

  Sunlight danced along the surface of the lake. Like tiny dazzling creatures from another world, its brilliance skimmed and hopped across the crests of the waves stirred by the breeze. She shielded her eyes against the brightness, wondering what time it was. The days grew longer and longer this far north, and the sun finally disappeared around eleven.

  A slight fishy odor hung in the air. Not a bad or rotten smell, just a lake smell. Thick pine boughs sheltered the spot from prying eyes, and a lone oak stood at the edge of the clearing. How many couples had taken advantage of the seclusion for a bit of privacy? What did she have to do to seduce Hunter into . . .

  Ack. What was she thinking? “Talk to me,” she ordered, turning to face him.

  “I dinna ken what to say.”

  “You’re angry.”

  He began to pace along the shore. “For certes. Would you no’ be? Mayhap if things had been different, my ma would no’ have died of a fever. I would ha’ grown up without a doubt about where I belong or of my rank.” He stopped and plowed both hands through his hair. “By the saints, I’m a baron. If I’d remained with my clan or been sent to foster with an allied clan, I would no’ have been reduced to beggary.” He glared. “Would such no’ make you angry?”

  “Yep. You have every right to be angry, but it’s preventing you from seeing the big picture.”

  “What picture is that, Meghan?” He continued to pace.

  “Stop, Hunter.” She bl
ocked his path and placed her hands on his chest. “Let go of the anger for just a minute. Try to get past the hurt. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  He grunted.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his pounding heart. “The people who loved you did what they did to keep you safe. They did what they thought best. You can’t blame Edward or your clan for your mother’s death. She may have died anyway, no matter where you were hidden away.” She peered into his stormy gray eyes.

  “You heard Edward. Your gnarly old granddad was a zealot. If you had remained anywhere near him, you couldn’t have kept your fae abilities a secret for long, especially if he’d been looking for them. He banished his own son. I shudder to think what he might’ve done to you.”

  His arms tightened around her, and he rested his chin on top of her head. Some of the tension left him. “Edward could have placed me with another sect of the MacConnell clan. There are still MacConnell holdings scattered along the western coast. I should have been raised as a noble, whether or no’ my grandsire acknowledged me.”

  “Yes, you should have, but your mother wanted to come home. Anyway, thanks to True and Malcolm, you kind of were raised as a noble.” She placed her hands on either side of his face and drew his gaze down to hers. “You would not be the man you are today if you hadn’t gone through what you did as a child. It’s your early years that have shaped you and made you the great leader that you are today.”

  “Humph. You think me a great leader?” He brushed his lips across her forehead.

  “Of course I do. Set aside your anger and grief. Think about the people who desperately need your help. Think about the innocent lives you can save. Would you condemn your clansmen, knowing they had nothing to do with the decisions your grandfather made? Do you really want to leave them leaderless and without direction or hope?”

  “Nay.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “What am I to do about you, Beag Curaidh?”

  Her heart bounced around in her chest. “What do you want to do with me?”