Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  “I’m glad to be back as well…Francis! Mind the breakables, if you please!” Eve called sternly, though the broad smile on her face belied the severity of her tone. “What are we going to do with them?”

  “Did you think we could stop them?” Kitty teased, unable, even after two months of marriage, to believe she had been so lucky as to find a wonderful man who was also such a wonderful father to her daughter. She stroked a loving hand over her slightly rounded belly, more than five months gone now with the next child who would be so fortunate. Life simply could not get any better.

  Turning to her sister, she found Eve also with a hand on her much more extended belly, a grimace upon her face. “Are you all right, Evie?”

  “I’m fine,” Eve assured her. “Just a kick. This one will be an active child, no doubt. Mother says I was just the same when she carried me.”

  “How did Mother find London?” Kitty asked. Maggie had accompanied Eve and Francis first to Paris to have a wardrobe prepared for Moira, and then to London where they had taken in the Little Season presenting Moira there. After the birth of Eve’s baby in the next few weeks, they would return for the Season in the spring as well.

  Moira had already gushed about her brief time there, having adored every minute of a society that went beyond the company of her father and grandfather. Already she had a score of suitors, each one enchanted not only by her status as an heiress but by her vibrant beauty and demeanor. Soon Moira would find a man to love as well.

  “Mother liked it very much. I think she’ll probably go back with us for a few weeks before you are due to deliver. Where is she anyway?” Eve asked.

  “Mother is instructing Moira on the table settings for dinner,” Kitty grinned. “It seems her years confined to the most remote highlands with little womanly influences have left Moira lacking in what Mother considers necessary skills.”

  Eve joined in her laughter. “I hope she doesn’t overdo. Moira will never want her own household after Mother gets through with her!”

  “You know Mother. A Christmas Eve dinner must be as elegant as can be,” Kitty chuckled again. “It doesn’t matter if it’s just for family when that family numbers eighteen members and possibly more.”

  “Still…” Eve began to argue until Hobbes appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. “Yes, Hobbes?”

  “Pardon me, my lady, for disturbing your family…fun.” The butler’s lips twitched slightly when Hannah, after demanding that Jack put her down, ran over to Hobbes and lifted her arms, begging to be picked up. With a sacrificing sigh, Hobbes lifted her into his arms, all the while maintaining his most dignified demeanor. “There is a person of some military bearing at the door, carrying a letter addressed to the Earl of Glenrothes. He claims to be sent from the Home Office in London on direct orders of Mr. Gladstone himself.” He sniffed with an aura of disbelief as Hannah tugged apart his immaculate tie.

  “The Prime Minister?” Francis questioned, lowering Laurie to the floor. He traded a questioning look with his wife, but both shrugged at the unanswered query. “Please send him in, Hobbes. I hope you didn’t leave him standing on the stoop.”

  “It is Christmas, my lord.” The butler tapped his heels together and departed, taking Hannah with him. Despite his unruffled severity, they all knew she was a particular favorite of his.

  A moment later he returned, announcing, “Anthony Temple, Lord Captain.”

  A sandy-haired man in a distinguished black suit entered the parlor behind him, making a slight bow. He was perhaps in his late twenties but appeared older, as if the burdens of life had weighed heavily upon him. “Retired,” he added, before offering his hand to Francis who shook it. “Lord Glenrothes, my pardon for interrupting you on Christmas Eve, but I come bearing a letter from the Home Office that you might find a welcome gift for the season.”

  The earl took the letter the captain passed to him, offering his thanks, and broke the seal while all the others stared with silent curiosity upon him. Whatever could be so important as to bring a messenger of this lord captain’s rank out on Christmas? Their curious glances all asked the same question.

  Francis read quickly and all could easily read the astonishment on his face as he gripped the missive tightly in his hands. “Is this true?” he choked out as he searched the man’s face. “Have you seen him?”

  “Yes, my lord, I myself had the honor of finding him.”

  Francis looked so completely devastated that for a moment Kitty was almost certain he would cry right there before them all. Apparently, Eve could see the same emotion, for she rose laboriously and hurried to his side. “Francis, what is it?”

  Francis could only shake his head in denial, but the Captain spoke again. “My lord Glenrothes, Mr. Gladstone is requesting that you return with me in all haste. Might I wire him that you will attend him in London?”

  “Aye,” came the strangled reply. “Straight away. Give me an hour if you would?”

  “Very good, my lord. I will return shortly.” The man turned smartly on his heel and exited on his own, no one else even noting his departure as they all stared at Francis, waiting.

  “Francis?” Eve prompted once more, wondering what could drag Francis away from his family on Christmas Eve.

  “Vin,” he said at last, taking a deep, shuddering breath before releasing it with an unsteady laugh. “It’s my brother! Eden, they found him…alive!” Francis gathered her in his arms, laughing and sobbing openly into her shoulder as he swung her around. “My God!” he shouted then. “Vin is alive!”

  Outside the parlor door, Moira dropped the tea service she was carrying at her feet, the sound of shattering porcelain breaking through the sounds of joyous exclamation. “What!?”

  A Note Before You Read

  Last year as I was finishing A Question of Trust, the first book in the Questions for a Highlander series, I was thinking about Francis’ brothers knowing at some point, I might write about them as well and, of course, I wanted them to all have wonderfully romantic names.

  About that same time, I was sitting around with my dad watching old movies including the 1942 classic Mrs. Miniver. In the movie, Mrs. Miniver’s son was a WWII pilot named Vincent, but mostly they called him by a short form of the name, Vin.

  Or rather, Van. The way they kept pronouncing it, in that soft English accent, was just lovely and, I thought, very dashing and romantic, as well. Van. Short for Vincent. Not VIN, like our American car identification numbers (or heaven forbid! Vin Diesel) but Van.

  That is how I think of this Vin, a hero as well, a soldier who fought for his country. I hope you will hear his name in your mind the same way as you read his story.

  Chapter 1

  I cannot be awake for nothing looks to me as it did before,

  Or else I am awake for the first time,

  and all before has been a mean sleep.

  - Walt Whitman

  London, England

  Christmas Day 1892

  Grief, weariness and elation clashed within the earl fighting for control as he sat in the darkened room, his face buried in his hands. It was emotionally draining to be subject to such diversity of feeling. It was not by any stretch of the imagination how Francis MacKintosh, Earl of Glenrothes, planned spending his Christmas. Here he was though, away from his family and his wife who was due to deliver their first child in just a few weeks time.

  However, he couldn’t feel sorry for it because suddenly the whole world had shifted under his feet. The reason for that lie before him, asleep or unconscious, Francis wasn’t sure.

  Vin was alive. Found and returned to England five years after he being presumed dead. Five years of grief for the loss of his brother who, just a year younger than he, had been his closest friend and companion as a youth.

  Lord Captain Anthony Temple, the man who came Edinburgh to deliver the news of Vincent MacKintosh’s recovery to Glenrothes and escort the earl to London, had little to say about what happened to Vin these past years. The captain
had only said that he had been the one to ‘find’ Vincent and that Vin was currently at a London hospital in serious condition. The earl could only imagine the horrors that had left his brother in the condition he was in now.

  Though eternally grateful for the captain, Glenrothes had been frustrated through the entire eleven-hour train ride to London when the closemouthed chap resisted his persistent prodding for more details. Eventually, the earl focused his energies, upon his arrival into the city, to transferring Vincent to the Glenrothes townhouse and securing a private nurse and doctor to take proper care of his brother.

  After examination and conferring with the other physicians, the doctor confirmed that Vin’s condition was as severe as Temple hinted. He’d explained that Vincent was recovering from years of bodily trauma and a diet that might have occasionally bordered on starvation. The doctor added that it would probably be several weeks before Vin would be ready to travel. Such news only made the curiosity in Francis burn stronger.

  What had happened?

  Francis looked down at the man asleep in the bed, this shell of what remained of the brother who had sailed away five years before. The last time he had seen Vin, he had been as brawny a Scot as Francis, tall and thick with muscle born from years of sport and work. Now he was as lean as a whipcord. Wiry, too thin and gaunt.

  Vin hadn’t awoken since Francis arrived, remaining unconscious during the transfer from the hospital. Remaining as still as the dead, until moments ago, when a frown creased his brow and Vin had begun to sweat. A nightmare, the earl deduced, wondering at its source as his brother thrashed under the covers before flinging them off. With a throaty cry, Vin jerked upright, abruptly awake and lashing out at Francis.

  “NO!” Vin cried out hoarsely.

  Francis grasped his brother’s head between his hands forcing the other man’s attention while Vin struggled to escape the nightmare that bound him. “Vin! Vincent! It's me. Francis! Look at me!” he demanded when Vin’s eyes darted around wildly. “Look at me!” Vin grasped at Francis’ wrists and struggled against him, but Glenrothes held on calling his brother’s name.

  Vin stared into the familiar green eyes just inches in front of him in confusion and disbelief. He hadn’t seen them in years and had never thought to again. Slowly, he stopped struggling as recognition seeped in. “Francis? Is that you?”

  His voice was raspy and dry from disuse but Francis heard and drew his brother firmly into a backslapping hug with a shout of joy. “Aye, brother, it is I,” the earl whispered as he embraced his long-lost brother.

  Disbelief warred with reality for several moments, but soon Vin was returning the hug, tightly grasping his older brother to him. Joy flooded him, mixed with relief and an unwilling sob escaped the battered man followed by another. Vin tried in vain to stop the emotions, to stifle the unmanly tears seeping past his tightly closed eyes, knowing he would seem weak by giving into them. Then he realized Francis was crying as well. His older brother, the earl of Glenrothes, reduced to tears? Surely, his own were allowed then!

  They held each other tightly for many long minutes until Francis finally cleared his throat and released Vin, wiping his tears as he dropped back into the chair by the bed. Seeing that release of tension, Vin recognized his own exhaustion and lay back down wearily though he held a hand out to the other man who clasped it in his. A thousand questions raged in his mind but Vin only asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Someone had to come down here and get you, you know,” Francis joked, though raw emotion still shook his voice. “Heard you were being a lazy bastard who couldn’t even bother to come home by yourself.”

  A reluctant smile raised one side of Vin’s lips in acknowledgment of the sarcasm before lapsing back into a frown. “How long have you been here?”

  “Just since this morning.”

  “How long have I been here?” was the next question that came to mind.

  “A few days according to Temple,” his brother answered.

  Vin’s mind flooded with memories of Temple and their long journey since his rescue. The weeks aboard ship returning to… “Where am I?”

  “Our house in London.”

  Vin looked around the bedchamber. He didn’t recognize it at all. Last time he’d been to London, all the bedchambers in their grandmother’s townhouse had been darkly paneled with heavy curtains and coverings. Despite the dimness of the room, however, he could see the paneling was now white and the walls above a soft blue. The once heavy bedclothes were now vivid yellows and blues. It was cheerful and light, a sharp contrast to the dark oppressiveness of his mind. Images flooded him as he remembered. His recollection was spotty at best, as he thought over the past several weeks. He had drifted continually in and out of consciousness, so it had been difficult to mark the passage of time. He might not recognize his surroundings, but he clearly remembered where he had been before all this. Vin pushed the images away. “Aye, I remember now, I was at the hospital.”

  “I had you transferred here this morning,” his brother told him unaware of the conflict in Vin’s mind. “When you are feeling up to it, I will take you home.”

  Home, Vin thought with an aching heart. Scotland, Glen Cairn. More pleasant memories flowed through him recalling it all - his brothers, his sister, the highlands and his youthful summers. With a sigh, he relaxed into the feather mattress that was much softer than any he’d known in years, absorbed the warmth from the fireplace and the friendly, comforting contact of his brother’s hand in his own.

  “I’d like to go home,” he whispered after a time, though more to himself than to his brother. Home. It had become some mythical place to him over the past years. An unreachable haven. A sanctuary where pain would no longer exist. “When?”

  “Might take awhile,” Francis told him. “The doctor says you need to take some time to regain your strength. The journey here did not help your condition at all. Plus, he insists on peace and relaxation for now and you know you’d not get that at home. A few weeks, perhaps?”

  Vin grunted again in acknowledgment. He felt weak as a kitten, it was true. While he did love his family, the very thought of being bombarded with the affections and questions of the whole MacKintosh clan was enough to make him inwardly cringe. Aye, peace and relaxation sounded wonderful for now. Just knowing that he was safe, that pain would soon be a thing of the past…

  He sighed jadedly, wondering if it would ever truly be in his past or if he would live with it for all the years to come. “How long have I been gone? I know Temple said but…”

  “It’s been five years since we found out you were missing,” came his brother’s reply.

  Vin’s head swam at his words. Five years! He pressed a hand to his eyes to blot out how those years were spent, reluctant to revisit them. “Temple said Richard made it through?” he asked, referring to their younger brother.

  “He did,” Francis answered. “He was badly injured though. It was he who brought word of your capture. We tried to go after you when he healed but could find no trace.”

  “Aye, Temple said as much.” More memories forced their way into Vin’s mind – the caravan of nomadic rebels, the heat, and the never-ending thirst – but he forced them back with some effort. Sleep. He just wanted to lose himself in a dreamless sleep, to forget for a measure of time the horror of these past years. However, even that was denied him as nightmares haunted him every time he closed his eyes. There was little comfort to be found awake or asleep. His brother’s presence was the closest he had coming to feeling any measure of peace in years. He eyed Francis. “Will you stay?”

  Francis squeezed his hand. “While I can. I must go back to Edinburgh in a couple weeks.” A smile spread over his face as he added. “You should congratulate me, brother. I am to be a father.”

  Surprise chased after disbelief through Vin’s mind. “You mean Vanessa and you?” It was a staggering thought. On his last furlough, Vin had heard his brother was planning to divorce his scandalous wife.

>   Francis chuckled. “I divorced Vanessa four years ago, but I married again earlier this year. ‘Tis my new wife who is bearing our child.”

  Vincent stared at his brother in shock. If someone had asked him if his eldest brother would ever remarry and look so pleased about it, Vin would have wagered his entire fortune against it. Glenrothes’ marriage to Vanessa Fane jaded all the MacKintosh brothers’ views on the institution for never had there been a greater example on how bad it could be. Vanessa was the worst sort of wife. A bitch and slut who had made their lives hell and slept with any number of men. She’d even pursued Vin at one point. It had been a sickening experience and he would never make the mistake of engaging in something that held so much potential for ruin. He would never have thought that Francis would put his head through that noose again and Vin told him so.

  To his further bemusement, Francis only smiled in a way that spoke volumes to the contrary. “My wife is nothing like Vanessa. You’ll see when you meet her. Much has changed since you’ve been gone. Richard wed Abygail Merrill not long after his return.”

  “No, really?” Vin pictured his friend Jack Merrill’s young sister in his mind, a petite, blond angel who never seemed more than a child to him. He couldn’t imagine her wed to Richard, though he knew that she’d trailed after him like a lost puppy for years.

  “Aye,” Francis went on. “They have three children now. Sean and Colin married earlier this year as well to Baron Teynham’s two lasses. Even Merrill wed recently.”

  Vin just blinked at him in disbelief sure his brother was pulling his leg with each added piece of information. Richard, a father? His young brothers married? Surely, they weren’t old enough! And Merrill married? Never! There had never been a greater womanizer in all of Scotland. “Surely you’re jesting? Jack would never wed.”

  His brother only laughed again. “No, it's true. Just a few months ago, in fact, to my wife’s younger sister. They are expecting a bairn soon as well.”