Loving A Highlander

by Wells, Aileen

  Isabella moaned and clung to him as he filled her time and time again. At first, he let her set the pace, before quickly taking over. His hands held her hips as he brought her down to sheath his engorged member.

  “Ah, lass,” he groaned, after they both had found their release. “I’ll never grow tired of having you in my arms.”

  Satisfied and completely content, Isabella snuggled against his chest and listened as his heart beat slowed to its normal rhythm. “Aye, and I never grow tired of being in them,” she murmured as her eyelids drifted shut.

  Right before she drifted off to sleep, she felt Gerard lift her and carry her to the bed where he tucked her beneath the covers. He quickly joined her and pulled her into his arms, fitting her body against his.

  “Go to sleep, lass,” he whispered as he leaned in to give her a kiss. “Morning will be here before long.” He watched as Isabella’s breaths became steady and even as she settled into a deep sleep. But for Gerard, sleep was a long time coming. Images of his wife flashed through his head and he felt a new sense of guilt. Tonight he had allowed himself to dream. To dream of a future with the woman he held in his arms. A future that could never be.

  In the moments before Lorna had taken her last breath, he had promised her he would never love another. That he would be content with the memories they had shared, but he hadn’t known he would meet a woman like Isabella. Hadn’t known she would capture his heart with her blue eyes and pretty smile.

  Gerard, wracked by guilt, frowned into the darkness and made a vow to keep Isabella at arm’s length. She must never know how much he cared about her and that if she were to leave, he would lose a part of his soul.

  One week later.

  They were walking in the courtyard, in the part that would have been the garden in the warmer months, but now the flowers were dead and withered.

  “Tell me about your wife.” Isabella tilted her head to stare up into Gerard’s handsome face.

  Gerard struggled to hide his shock. He had agreed to accompany her this afternoon. In fact, he had been looking for an excuse to spend time with her. He enjoyed having her by his side during the day and in his bed at night.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. In truth, the loss of Lorna still felt like a punch to his gut and it wasn’t a topic he usually discussed.

  Isabella stopped walking and studied his face. The day was overcast and the corner of the courtyard in which they were walking was deep in shadow, but there was enough light for her to tell she had struck a nerve.

  “What were her interests?” Isabella reached out to slip her hand in his and resumed walking. It was a bold move and she breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t pull away.

  Gerard hesitated, lost in thought. When he finally did answer his voice was strained. “Lorna liked to sew,” he said, searching his mind for memories of his late wife. It saddened him to realize what few memories he did have were beginning to fade.

  “Oh,” Isabella said, as her face fell. She didn’t particularly like to sew. She could of course, out of necessity, but she considered it to be a chore.

  “Was she pretty?” A pang of jealousy knifed through her, but Isabella pushed it away. It was silly to get jealous over Gerard’s love for a dead woman.

  “Aye,” Gerard said with a sigh. “Lorna was beautiful.” He stopped walking and reached out to grasp her chin. “What is this about, Bella? Why all the questions?”

  Isabella leaned toward him slightly, but then just as quickly straightened. She refused to get lost in his mesmerizingly blue eyes or get caught daydreaming about his broad shoulders.

  “Your wife was important to you.” She allowed the words to sink in. The woman in question had meant the world to Gerard and she was finding it difficult to compete with a dead woman.

  “Aye,” Gerard said softly, “Lorna was the center of my life.”

  “Did you love her?” Isabella asked, even though she knew the answer to her question. Lorna was his heart and soul. She had been his reason for living. Even in death she claimed his love. Isabella could only hope he had enough love left over to give to her.

  Gerard folded his arms as he stared down at her. “Very much. I wouldn’t have married her otherwise.”

  Isabella gathered up her courage and tugged him further into the dark corner of the courtyard. She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss, relishing the feel of his firm lips. She had hoped he would wrap her in his arms, but he didn’t. His arms remained by his side.

  She took a step back and sighed. “Do you love me?” she asked, hating the note of desperation that had crept into her voice. She thought about all of the pleasurable nights she had spent in his arms but wasn’t naïve enough to think that love had to be involved.

  Gerard’s expression became clouded. A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I care deeply for you, Bella,” he finally answered.

  Isabella felt as if someone had taken a knife to her gut and sliced her open. “But not love?” she whispered.

  “No,” he said sadly. “Not love.”

  Tears blinded her as she picked up her skirts and ran. She could hear the sound of running steps behind her and knew that Gerard was in pursuit, but she didn’t stop. Through the courtyard she ran, toward the portcullis and the freedom that lay on the other side.

  “Isabella! Wait!” Gerard shouted, ignoring the glances of curious onlookers. He caught up with her in front of the closed gate and nodded his thanks to the guards on top of the wall who had refused to open it for her.

  He grasped Isabella’s arms and then turned her to face him. He winced as he saw the tears glistening on her cheeks. Tears he had caused.

  “Let me explain, lass.”

  “There is nothing left to say,” Isabella said stiffly. “You made yourself perfectly clear.” She turned away from him and motioned to the guards. “Open the gate. I wish to leave.” She felt a flash of anger when the guards didn’t rush to do her bidding, but instead looked to Gerard.

  He shook his head and folded his arms. “Leave it closed,” he said firmly. “The lass is not to leave without my permission.”

  “Your permission?” Isabella’s voice rose to a shriek. They were attracting a crowd, but she didn’t care. “Your permission? I,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest, “do not need your permission to do anything.”

  A smile played about Gerard’s lips. “Aye, lass, I believe you do.” He bent and scooped her into his arms, tossed her over his shoulder and strode toward the castle.

  Isabella was horrified. “Put me down!” she hissed.

  Gerard chuckled as they entered the Great Hall. “Oh, I will put you down, Bella,” he purred, as he took the stone steps two at a time, quickly gaining access to the second floor. He strode down the corridor and opened his bedchamber door. Kicking it closed, he walked to his bed and tossed her onto it and took a step back.

  “What are you doing?” Isabella squeaked as she sprawled unladylike on his bed. Her skirts were hiked to the top of her thighs, exposing a large expanse of creamy flesh.

  Gerard gave her a wicked grin. He removed his shirt in one fluid motion and joined her on the bed. “You wanted me to put you down,” he murmured, as he reached over to give her bodice a tug, baring her bosom to his hungry gaze.

  Isabella gasped as cold air whispered across her bare skin, puckering her nipples into tight pebbles.

  “Cold, Bella?” Gerard rasped, as he leaned forward to pull a nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth. He promptly began to suckle.

  “Aye…no…oh!” she gasped, as his hand traveled up her leg until it reached the top of her thigh. She squirmed until there wasn’t a space left between them.

  Gerard raised his head. “Easy love,” he murmured. “We have all the time in the world.”

  He leaned forward and gave her a deep kiss. When they finally separated, he stared down at her, a slight smile curving his lips. “I do care about you, lass,” he said solemnly, “and I
intend to spend the rest of the afternoon proving it.”

  A few hours later, feeling tired but happy, Isabella walked hand and hand with Gerard as they crossed the courtyard to the small cemetery that had been the final resting place for the Mackenzie’s for generations. The cemetery had originally been out in the open, a short distance from the castle walls, but had recently, at Rowan’s orders, been enclosed.

  Gerard led her to the corner of the graveyard and stopped. “This is her final resting place,” he whispered, staring down at the bare ground.

  Isabella needed no explanation to tell her who lay beneath the frozen earth. She squeezed his hand, knowing that there were no words she could say to ease his pain. The love of his life was gone and he had made it clear he considered her a poor substitute.

  Gerard turned to her. “I want you to understand, lass, why I can’t give you my love.” He sighed. “It is because I have none left to give.” He pointed to the grave. “I buried my ability to love with Lorna. I’m sorry, Isabella,” he said quietly.

  Isabella choked back sobs as she ran from him for the second time that day, but this time he didn’t follow. He doesn’t love me! The words repeated in her head, a steady chant that wouldn’t go away. She reached her bedchamber and opened the door. Locking it behind her, she crossed the room to look out the window. Below her, the lake was calm and still. A lone figure walked to the lake’s edge and stared out across the water.

  Isabella’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized the set of the man’s shoulders. His proud stance.

  “He doesn’t love me,” she whispered, as pain welled up inside of her, threatening to drown her in a cold dark wave.

  Gerard chose that moment to turn, tilting his head to stare up at her window.

  Isabella stepped away from the window and walked to the bed. She sat down with a weary sigh.

  “Gerard doesn’t love me,” she repeated to the empty room. But, goddess help her, how she loved him.

  It was the next day. After an afternoon apart, Gerard was attempting to draw her into a conversation. They were standing in her bedchamber as a cold wind swirled in off of the lake.

  He reached out to stroke a finger lazily down her cheek. “Why don’t you think I care, Bella?”

  Isabella turned away to look out the window. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the cold wind on her face. “Why should you care?” she tossed back over her shoulder. “I am little more than a play thing to you. You have made that perfectly clear.”

  Gerard gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Is that what you think? That I consider you a play thing?” A muscle clenched in his jaw and it was a moment before he continued. “That I view you as some kind of toy I can use and then throw away when I become bored?”

  She nodded. “That is exactly what I think.”

  Gerard hauled her to him then, wrapping her in his strong arms and rocking her gently. “Ah, Bella,” he rasped. “You mean the world to me. You must realize how much I care for you.”

  Care.

  There was that word again, causing Isabella to grind her teeth with frustration. Placing both hands on his chest, she pushed him away.

  She didn’t want him to merely care for her. She wanted his love. She wanted to be his reason for living. His reason for breathing. She hadn’t been Owen’s, a fact he had made painfully clear. She had thought it might be different with Gerard.

  “Please leave.” Her voice was firm, hinting at none of the emotion that welled up inside of her.

  Gerard’s expression was bleak, but he didn’t argue. Giving her a curt nod, he turned and headed for the door, slamming it shut behind him.

  Alone in her room, Isabella placed a hand on her stomach and over the child she knew was growing inside of her. How much longer could she keep her pregnancy a secret? And how would Gerard react once he found out he was to be a father?

  Chapter

  Eleven

  Christmas Eve

  The temperature had dropped throughout the day, turning the steady rain into snow. It swirled thickly in the air, the icy particles dancing on the wind before falling to the ground.

  Gerard stared at the short man in front of him. “What do you want?” he asked in a voice as cold as the driven snow.

  The man returned his stare and sneered, the action twisting his features into a mask of hatred. “I believe you have something of mine.”

  The door to the Great Hall opened, spilling the cheerful sound of carolers out into the night. Just as quickly, the door closed, cutting off the sounds of the Christmas Eve celebration.

  Gerard’s eyes glittered as he returned the man’s hatred. “I have nothing of yours,” he said shortly.

  “Ah, I believe you do.” The man grinned slyly. “You have my wife.”

  The Great Hall door opened again and footsteps crunched in the fallen snow.

  Gerard turned as Rowan joined them. “No need to stop your celebration, cousin. I can well handle this.”

  Rowan’s brows lowered as he assessed the situation. “Gerard? Don’t you wish to invite your visitor in out of the cold?”

  “No,” Gerard snapped, as he sent Rowan a glare. “I don’t wish to invite him inside. My guest won’t be staying.”

  “But it is almost Christmas,” the man protested as he switched tactics. He plastered on a fake smile. “I’ve traveled a great distance to see my wife. Surely you won’t send me away without speaking to her.”

  Rowan turned to Gerard, his expression puzzled. “What on earth is the man going on about?”

  Gerard cast a scornful glance in the visitor’s direction. “If I have to guess, this is Owen. Isabella’s husband. The man who abandoned her,” he stressed.

  Rowan pulled him aside to speak privately. He frowned. “This man is her husband?”

  Gerard shook his head in denial. “Not legally. Isabella said that theirs was a small ceremony. Jumping the Broom, she called it. No clergy was involved.”

  Rowan sighed and scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get rid of him,” Gerard snapped. “As long as I have breath in my body, I will not allow Isabella to depart with that man.”

  Rowan looked over at the man who was shivering in the snow. Dressed in rags, he wasn’t equipped to brave the elements. “Perhaps he can stay the night. Tomorrow is Christmas, after all. We will send him on his way in a couple of days with enough coin in his pocket to ensure he won’t bother Isabella or you ever again.”

  “Make him understand,” Gerard said, keeping a tight leash on his anger, “that once he leaves, he is never to return. If he steps so much as one foot on Mackenzie land again, I will tear him limb from limb.”

  Rowan inclined his head. “I will do my best.”

  Gerard’s anger burned as he watched Rowan talking with the man. The last thing he wanted to do was spend Christmas with the horrible man, but it appeared as if it couldn’t be helped. Isabella’s husband would be joining them whether they liked it or not.

  He scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed as he followed Rowan and Owen into the castle. He had wanted to make this Christmas special for Isabella. Their first holiday together, he had wanted to create a memory that would last a lifetime.

  He glowered.

  Oh, they would create a memory, alright, but this memory would involve her husband and wouldn’t be a good one. Blast, that man.

  A smile curved Isabella’s lips as she watched Gerard enter the Great Hall, but the smile died when she saw the identity of the man who accompanied him.

  Owen.

  Just the sight of him was enough to make her blood run cold. “What is he doing here?” she whispered.

  Eva turned to her. “Do you know that man?”

  “Aye,” Isabella said. She took a drink of ale, but it was bitter going down and almost choked her. “I know him well.” She closed her eyes and was instantly transported back to the cottage. She could hear Owen’s words as he ridiculed her and feel t
he sharp blows of his fists.

  “Hello, Isabella.” Owen’s oily voice washed over her.

  Isabella’s eyes snapped open to find her husband standing next to her. She recoiled as Owen reached out a hand to twine dirty fingers in her hair.

  “I’ve missed you, my sweet,” he murmured, before covering her mouth with his.

  Isabella struggled, but he held her tight. She could hear Gerard’s roar of anger and an instant later, Owen was gone. Wrenched away from her by Gerard’s strong hands.

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as all of the joy drained out of the Christmas Eve celebration. By the doorway to the Great Hall, she could see Eva speaking to the governess and placing Anne and Nicholas in her care.

  “Get away from me,” Isabella hissed, as Owen regained his composure and took another step toward her. “You don’t belong here.”

  “Don’t speak that way, love,” he crooned, as he reclaimed the position by her side. “I have traveled far to see you. Imagine my surprise, when I returned to our cottage and found you missing. I was worried about you.”

  Isabella gave a snort of disbelief. It was more likely the woman he had been living with had grown tired of him and turned him out into the cold. That was the only reason he had returned home to darken her door.

  Isabella rose from her seat and rushed over to Gerard who promptly wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. “Make him leave,” she hissed with a note of desperation.

  A muscle worked in Gerard’s jaw. “I can’t,” he said through clenched teeth. “The laird has invited him to stay for Christmas.”

  Isabella gasped as her hopes of spending an enjoyable holiday came crashing to the ground. “He didn’t,” she said, casting a dark look at the laird.

  “He did,” Gerard said firmly.

  Owen walked over to Isabella and attempted to pull her away. “If you don’t mind, I wish to speak to my wife.”