Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  He would continue to fill that gap once she proved her resolve to Eve and Kitty and faced Vin once more. In time, he might eventually fill the role Vin had long held as well as well.

  Keeper of her heart.

  She wanted it to happen. Yearned for that moment when her heart could release itself to him. Moira wanted nothing more than to give her love to Harry Brudenall. Give it to a man who could return it. Share it.

  Once she had proven that it wouldn’t be with Vin, Eve would relent. With Aylesbury, she could leave this place, leave Vin and all the memories that would return home with him behind. There could be more with Harry and she was determined to make it happen. However, having promised Eve that she wouldn’t encourage him into a proposal yet, Moira did not pursue his provoking statement instead she turned the conversation toward the Season to come.

  Aye, she would wait as she promised Eve and Kitty. Let them see that Vin’s return would amount to nothing. It shouldn’t take long before they would see the futility of holding out hope for him. Then Moira could flee Scotland with a nice, English husband and never see Vincent MacKintosh again.

  Never feel her heartbroken again.

  Chapter 5

  Each time you happen to me all over again.

  - Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

  Later that night

  Moira’s eyes popped open as she stared into the blackness of her bedchamber. Her fire was burned down to embers leaving her to the night. Wondering at the time, she rolled over and squinted at the clock through the inky darkness that surrounded her. It was just after half three in the morning. What woke her then?

  A muffled shout sounded through the walls followed by a moan. ‘What on earth was that?’ Moira wondered as she studied the gathered silk canopy above her that was becoming more visible as her eyes adjusted. It sounded as if it were coming from below her, through the floorboards. Not animalistic, certainly not a ghost or, more embarrassing, the sounds of her friend making love to her passionate husband.

  Moira snorted indelicately at the very thought. In an effort to give the newly wedded earl and countess Glenrothes a bit more privacy since her arrival the previous spring, Moira had taken a suite of rooms on the third floor above the family apartments on the second and on the opposite end of the house from the couple. She thought to spare herself and them the chance of being overheard. It could not be them, she was certain, for this sound was coming from just below her.

  It was also a sound that suggested pain…not passion.

  Moira flung aside the covers and rose pulling on a dressing gown, her bare toes curling against the chill of the floorboards on this cold winter’s night. Able to see better as her eyes adjusted, she left her room without a candle and crept down the hall toward the central staircase sure the noise was coming from a lower level. Reaching the center of the townhouse, however, she couldn’t hear the sounds any longer. Still curious, she descended a level and took the second floor landing back in the direction of her rooms. Within a handful of steps, she was rewarded when the sounds grew louder as she continued down the hall.

  The air was colder here, the heat generated through the house by the boilers kept her rooms on the upper floor warmer than the rest. The chill held a certain foreboding to Moira as she traced the source of the disturbance to the room just below and once removed from her own. Moira stared at the closed door uncertain how to continue until another agonized cry sounded from within.

  Cracking the door quietly, she peered into the dark room. Much like her room, the hallway door opened to a private sitting room attached to an adjacent bedchamber. A fire must still have been burning in the adjoining room since a dance of muted, flickering light and shadows stretched in a long rectangle from the door. Compelled forward by the continued moans and mumbling, she moved farther into the sitting room with compassion urging her to soothe the one so pained.

  Reaching the door to the bedchamber, however, Moira drew to a halt staring at the man stretched face down on the bed. She didn’t even need to see his face.

  It was Vin.

  Moira wavered where she stood feeling almost faint with surprise, almost as if she hadn’t truly believed him to be alive until that moment. Tears sprang to her eyes as her chest tightened with the flood of emotion. Emotion she had been denying since she’d first heard the news of his survival. Oh, Vin, she thought, how I’ve missed you!

  When had he arrived? she wondered as she stared at him mesmerized. Before she returned from the theater? After she went to bed? The answer didn’t seem to matter as she drank in the sight of him. The bedclothes had been pushed down to his waist in his struggles and the firelight played across his bare back. Even in the gloom of the room, she could see that he was much thinner than in years past when he had been a braw Scot, thick and bulky. He might have been thinner but he didn’t appear at all frail. Lean might be a better description for she could make out the sinewy strength of each muscle as they flexed and relaxed while he thrashed on the bed.

  He cried out again and Moira’s heart cried out in response to his pain. She hastened to his bedside wanting to soothe him however she could, to absorb whatever pain plagued him. Perching on the edge of the bed, she laid a hand on his shoulder thinking only to wake him from the nightmare that troubled him.

  The roughened texture that met her hand, however, made her draw back and Moira stared down at the mass of scars that crisscrossed his back.

  A gasp of horror escaped her. “Vin, what happened to you?” she whispered into the silence of the bedchamber. She pressed a hand there again, imagining the pain and agony that had gone into building those scars and wondered at what he must have suffered when receiving those hundreds of razor-thin lines. Tears, which had only stung before, fell for him then and Moira brushed them heedlessly away.

  Vin cried out once more, curling his body into a fetal position on his side before flinging himself on to his back. He threw an arm over his head to grasp his pillow while the other stretched out to the side gripping the sheets, twisting them in the throes of the nightmare that held him.

  Determination renewed to ease away the demons that plagued his sleep and Moira put her palm against his dampened brow, her heart aching when he automatically turned his face into her cool palm and calmed almost instantaneously. How beautiful he was! She had almost forgotten over the years. The light of the flames played over his face, his broad forehead, high cheekbones. The squared jaw that clenched and unclenched visibly even under the scruffy growth of beard. His thick brows frowned furiously at his unseen demons. There were lines here and there showing more age than she remembered but the maturity had blessed him with even more appeal. With a small huff of disbelief, she stared at his face. She’d forgotten how much he looked like a MacKintosh, all glorious men, even with them around her every day. He was so incredibly lovely!

  Moira brushed her fingers through his dark, wavy hair noting its long shaggy length. It seemed almost black now having lost the mahogany highlights bleached into it by a lifetime in the sun. His once sun-bronzed skin was paler as well. Where ever he’d been, he hadn’t seen the sun in quite some time.

  Pushing his hair back from his brow, Moira wished she could see his chocolaty eyes once again. She smoothed her palm over the plane of his whisker roughened cheek unable to resist grazing his full lower lip with her thumb, savoring the texture. Another low moan recalled her attention to her task and she flushed with embarrassment for having caught herself in such a thrall. “Hush, Vin,” she whispered softly into the shadowy room. “Hush, my love, it's just a dream.”

  Vin stilled beneath her hand, his harsh panting subsided to a soft inhale. She stroked the creases from his brow soothingly over and over and she continued to croon to him, her own breath relaxing with his as he calmed and seemed to sleep more peacefully. Encouraged, she continued to stroke his brow and cheeks but found the effort as much to her pleasure as his own, touching him as she had always longed to. Chafing her palm across his cheeks, glorying in the s
hivers it sent up her arm.

  In all the years she had loved him, she had never been allowed this touching. He might have occasionally brushed a distracted kiss across her check or given her a brotherly hug, but she had never touched him as she did now. Moira gloried in the feel of him as she studied him.

  The firelight played on his torso revealing the dips and rises of his chest and stomach. There were scars here as well, not like those on his back but longer and wider. One across his side and stomach marring the smoothly rippled expanse looked particularly vicious and Moira imagined it a slash from a sword.

  One hand fisted tightly in the sheets and Moira looked down noticing the band of pale scarring around his wrist and upper hand. It was wide not narrow like the cut of a blade. It was ragged as it the skin had been torn. She wondered what could possibly have caused it. Moira removed her hand from his face to trace that evil line, but this upset Vin so she returned that light caress to his brow as she stared again with wonder on his beloved face.

  What a fool she had been to think another could ever replace him in her heart! her mind berated her. There was nothing for it now. Aylesbury was a handsome, caring and charismatic man but she knew it wouldn’t be fair to marry him when she felt this way just looking at a sleeping man. But what was she to do? Vin had made his feelings clear on his last visit home. He considered Moira a friend, a very good friend, but nothing more.

  Examining those truths with the object of her affections right before her was much harder than it had been when they’d been told he lived.

  “Oh, Vin,” she whispered into the shadows as she continued to stroke his cheek. “I have loved you for so long, but what am I to do now? Can I live a life alone because my heart refuses to settle for less? Should I marry him anyway just to escape you?” An ache spread across her breast at the thought but she knew of no answer to her questions.

  How long she sat there with him, Moira had no idea but soon she became aware of noises below, the sounds of the house waking and knew she had to leave before she was discovered. Rising, she leaned over Vin and placed a soft kiss against his cheek like so many of the sisterly pecks she delivered and received over the years. Staring down at him, his face just inches from hers, Moira’s breath caught at the daring impulse that urged her to do more and she dipped again caressing his lips with her own in a feather-light kiss. “I love you, Vin,” she whispered against them before fleeing the room. “God help me, but I do.”

  Vin inhaled deeply, his spine straight and hands by his sides as he knelt on a mat placed in a quiet, but cheerfully sunny spot in his sitting room. He breathed out slowly willing his mind to find peace as he did, before drawing in another breath.

  “Good,” a low, accented voice came softly so as not to disturb him. “Feel the calm flow inward. Find your Qi and focus. Balance will come to you.”

  The voice came from the ancient Chinaman who Francis had summoned to London from Scotland to help in his recovery. Sung Li, as he’d been introduced, was now a part of Jack Merrill’s household having served his new wife before their marriage. As a boy in China, his uncle, a Buddhist monk educated in the practice of the Qigong, had trained him as he now trained Vin.

  The little man had explained to Vin the Qigong was a traditional medical practice of China known for its restorative powers of the mind and body.

  This meditative part – focusing the body to maintain a posture – would, Sung Li claimed eventually put his nightmares and memories to rest over time if he continued the practice.

  The other part of the Qigong was regaining his physical strength. Though he was still awkward with the intricate motions of its dance, Vin was slowly learning them from Sung Li. He called it T'ai Chi Chuan, a practice that mimicked the motions of animals in slow, controlled movements that manipulated the flow of the Qi through the body.

  A few weeks ago, Vin thought Francis mad to force this odd little man’s theories on him. Also, he thought the wizened man a fool to suggest this Qi he spoke of, this life force within, was unbalanced in Vin. Sun Li insisted that, when it was corrected, Vin might be healthy once more. He scoffed at the very idea of such foreign mumbo jumbo healing him, but Vin quickly found that the meditation did soothe his troubled mind. His body was slowly healing as well, a welcome benefit of the Tai Chi Chuan.

  For the past several weeks, Vin worked for many hours daily at it until he began to look forward to the sessions that gave him such peace, such release from the past. He had even taken to listening to the chinaman’s philosophies intently seeking a full recovery.

  In just that short time, he felt stronger, his body mending quickly. Though he still tired easily, he was gaining strength every day. His mind, however, was more hesitant to follow in its path. Outside their sessions, his mind was still in turmoil. Nightmares ravaged his sleep. Memories he wanted nothing more than to banish forever, haunted him. Over the past several weeks, returning to Scotland had become his goal. He was sure that coming home would rejuvenate him. As if his hopes and prayers were answered, he had slept well the night before. Though there had been some nightmares, there had also been a long rest from those terrors filled with soft soothing words, a cool hand and an angel’s light kiss. It was a pleasurable dream for a change.

  Being home had done that for him. When he could go on to Glen Cairn, his childhood home, perhaps it would get even better. He would reclaim his nights.

  Perhaps with more nights like the last, he’d be able to face the week ahead without hesitation.

  Francis told him on the train last night that he had invited the family over for dinner in two days. All of them. Supposedly, it was to be a celebration of the birth of the Glenrothes heir. Vin knew Francis was saving him for a surprise. He was thankful that his brother concealed his presence from the remainder of the family these last weeks so Vin might have time to recover. The event ahead would tax his strength. It would tax anyone’s! Vin loved his family dearly but felt certain the chaos that awaited him would be of no benefit to his state of mind. The MacKintosh clan as a whole had a tendency to overwhelm…even those within the family.

  He had two days to find his peace before chaos descended.

  “You must focus,” the Chinaman’s voice intruded on his thoughts and Vin peaked over at the man posed by his side, eyes closed and face concentrated, wondering how Sung Li had known that his thoughts had wandered.

  “I can tell,” Sung Li added, his lips compressed against a smile. “When the mind wanders, there is no benefit to the Qigong.”

  “Aye, sensei,” Vin replied obediently and returned to his meditation.

  It was good to be home. On the train, he watched the landscape speeding by; barren, rugged, cold and rainy on a gray and dreary January afternoon. Yet, so dear Vin had felt some his pain ease just at the sight of his homeland. He could not wait to see Glen Cairn again or Raven’s Craig Castle, his ancestral home on the Firth of Forth, or…”

  “Focus!”

  “Aye, sensei.”

  Chapter 6

  Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air.

  They are where they should be.

  Now put the foundations under them.

  - Henry David Thoreau

  Two Days Later

  “Thank you again for inviting me to tea, Lady Glenrothes, Lord Glenrothes,” the Marquis of Aylesbury offered politely as he took his afternoon teatime with Moira and the Lords and Ladies Glenrothes and Haddington. One Moira’s sponsor and both long-time friends, the countesses Glenrothes and Haddington were a delightful pair of women. They were so identical in looks that he had assumed them to be twins.

  While he was meeting Haddington and his countess for the first time, Aylesbury had met Lord and Lady Glenrothes in London the previous year when he began courting Lady Moira and found them both agreeable company. It seemed the Haddingtons would be no different. After he was thoroughly assessed and summed up, Lady Haddington seemed to feel he had done something right for she quickly relaxed. The couple had then en
gaged him in pleasant conversation on his views on American industry having learned from Moira of his investments overseas.

  Eventually he returned his attention to his hostess.

  “Not at all, Lord Aylesbury,” Eve countered pleasantly. “I only apologize that I could not invite you sooner.”

  “Your reasons are entirely justifiable,” he said with a smile that charmed and turned to Francis, offering a hand. “Congratulations on the birth of your heir, Glenrothes.”

  When the men turned moved apart for more conversation, Eve shot a smile at Moira that spoke of hesitant approval. Moira understood it easily. There would be no more arguments from Eve if she chose to wed the marquis. He was the perfect gentleman, a pleasing man. In the past hour, he had proven his worth in her eyes with aplomb.

  “He’s sweet, Moira,” Kitty teased under her breath as she lowered herself awkwardly to sit next to her friend, “and obviously very sweet on you.”

  “Well, if you hadn’t been hiding out with Jack this past week, you might have met him before,” Moira retorted with a smile.

  “It’s called a honeymoon, dear,” Kitty ribbed her friend with a roll of her eyes.

  “For four months? I hope I’ll experience one of those soon myself,” Moira sighed enviously.

  “I hope you…Ouch!” Kitty exclaimed placing a hand on her distended belly. “This one best be a boy, I believe he’s playing cricket in my belly already. Moira, feel!”

  Kitty pressed Moira’s hand over her belly and Moira awed over the power of the baby’s movement. “I hope I’ll experience one of those soon myself as well.”

  “You will,” Kitty assured her and Eve added, “I would wager things will move quickly now that Vin is home.”