Highland Hero

by Hannah Howell

  “Here is your food, ye great, pretty fool,” snapped Pullhair as he slammed the tray down on a small table near the arrow slit in the wall.

  “I thought that we had agreed ye would call me Kenneth,” Sir Kenneth said cautiously as he moved to sit at the table. The little man looked furious and he was well aware of how dangerous an angry brownie could be.

  “Ye told me to call ye that. I dinnae recall that I agreed. And e’en if I had, I would still be calling ye a great fool now.”

  “I have offended you in some manner?”

  “Nay and aye. Ye havenae insulted me, but ye have hurt the lass and that amounts to the same thing.”

  “I havenae touched the lass.”

  “Aye, and that be part of the problem.”

  Kenneth choked slightly on the wine he had been sipping. “Are ye saying that ye wish me to dishonor Isbel?”

  Pullhair swore and stomped around the room for a moment before glaring at Kenneth. “I begin to think ye are worse than a fool. Ye are also stupid. Nay, I would ne’er ask that. But I see what has happened. The lassie tells ye the truth about herself, confides in ye things that she rarely tells others, and ye turn your back on her.”

  “She asks me to accept some verra odd things, things most people live in fear and trembling of.”

  “Ye believe in me.”

  “ ’Tis hard not to when ye are standing there yelling at me.” He slathered butter on a warm slab of bread and was a little surprised when Pullhair laughed.

  “And ye have seen the ghosts.”

  “I have seen something. It could be just the shadows flickering.”

  “Ye are verra good at lying to yourself considering what an honest mon ye are and all.”

  “Heed me, please. I like Isbel. Curse it, I lie abed at night aching for her. I also owe her my life. Howbeit, she is a good woman, one who deserves a mon to wed her and give her children. After she told me the full truth about herself, I kenned that I could ne’er be that mon. The best thing to do, for both of us, was for me to step back ere we stirred more up between us than a fiery lusting.”

  “Did she ask ye for more?”

  “Nay, but she isnae one that is meant to be naught but a leman.”

  “Laddie, I believe I have lived a few more years than ye.” He lifted one shaggy brow when Kenneth laughed. “Isbel is what she is. In truth, her gifts have helped make her the woman she is now. True, she needs to be a wee bit stronger, a wee bit more certain of her own worth, but she is no innocent maid. What gives ye the right to decide what she will and willnae accept? Mayhap she has no interest in wedding you. E’er considered that? And how can ye listen to truth and immediately decide that ye cannae accept it? ’Tis almost cowardly. Ye heard something ye didnae like much or didnae understand and ye ran away and hid.”

  “That is an unfair accusation. I see no gain in opening my heart to a lass I can ne’er take as my wife. I certainly would consider it a great cruelty to try and win her love kenning that I will leave her.”

  “Then dinnae try and win her heart.”

  “I thought brownies were supposed to be such moral fellows.”

  Pullhair stood up straight, squaring his narrow shoulders. “We are. Ye arenae wed and neither is she. She is no sweet innocent ye are trying to seduce out of her maidenhead. Did ye not see the hand of fate in your meeting? I am nay one to argue with fate.”

  Kenneth shook his head. “I dinnae ken what game ye play.”

  “No game. I but see the lass all sad-eyed and mournful then come into this dark room and see ye acting the same. So mayhap what ye might do if ye allow yourselves some freedom would not be seen as moral by some and willnae lead to a marriage and bairns. Howbeit, for a wee while ye would both be a lot happier.”

  “Aye,” Kenneth murmured, his thoughts going to Isbel as they had so often in the last three days. “Aye, we would be, but there could be a high price for it.”

  When Pullhair left, still grumbling about the idiocy of mortals, Kenneth concentrated on finishing his meal, but his mind refused to be stilled. After Isbel had told him the truth about herself, he had spent many an hour trying to call her mad, but it had not worked. If she was mad, then so was he, for he too saw the brownie and the ghosts. He had then tried to think of what would be if he gave in to his lusts, and slowly fell in love with her. The future looked to be a whirl of ghosts, brownies, faeries, and all that goes bump in the night and it would not stop with her. Any children they had would suffer from the same curse. No matter which way he looked at it, it still seemed that the safest and kindest way to go was to keep his distance until he was well enough to leave Bandal. He just wished that, once he had made that decision, he could have ceased to want her.

  “Ye used to smile once or twice,” murmured Pullhair as he watched Isbel scrub down the large table in her kitchen.

  “Dinnae worry o’er me, Pullhair,” she said, and gave him a sad smile. “I will survive this. I but beg your pardon if, for a wee while, I suffer the occasional melancholy moment or regret.”

  “So ye stay here and sigh and he stays up there and sighs. It makes no sense to me.”

  “Sir Kenneth is sighing?” she asked, unable to hide her intent interest.

  “As near to it as any mon allows himself.”

  “He kens where I am. If he wants for company, he can come and find me.”

  “Ye are as stubborn as he is. The fates have chosen him for ye yet ye avoid each other as if ye have some plague. How can ye win his heart if ye ne’er speak to or see him? How can ye make him want ye if ye stay far away from each other?”

  “Pullhair, ye didnae see his face when I told him about me, about what I can do, and about the history of my family. I dinnae think there is anything I can do to make him wish to stay with me.”

  “But ye arenae sure, are ye?”

  Isbel sighed and sat down on a stool near the huge kitchen fireplace. “Nay, I am not sure. Howbeit, the mon has turned away from me. Am I to chase after him?”

  “Aye. Dinnae look so shocked, lassie. We are talking about fate and destiny, nay some base lusting. If he is fool enough to spit in the eye of fate, so be it. The consequences will fall on his head. Ye cannae be so foolish. Ye must do all ye can to fulfill the destiny chosen for you. If that means ye must swallow your pride, weel, take a hearty gulp, lass, and do it.”

  She lightly rubbed her temples in a vain attempt to ease the throbbing in her head. “I cannae even be sure he will let me near enough to try anything, not even to talk. He wasnae afraid, not truly, but I ken that I now make him very uneasy.”

  “Ye also make his blood warm.” Pullhair grinned when Isabel blushed. “True enough, right now the mon thinks he will only dishonor you if he follows his desires for what ye told him makes him certain that he cannae wed you.”

  “Then why should I trouble myself with the fool?”

  “Because, mayhap if ye lie with him, he will discover that ye stir far more than his lust. And consider this, mayhap the fates arenae concerned with love and marriage, just a bairn. They said he was your mate, but they ne’er said he would love you or stay with you.”

  “Oh.” Isbel frowned as she thought that over and tried to decide if Pullhair was just trying to trick her into doing what he wanted her to. “If ’tis neither love nor marriage he is supposed to bring me, that leaves but one thing—a child. Do ye truly believe he may have been sent here to give me a bairn and no more?”

  “ ’Tis possible. Ye carry the strongest mark of Lily of any of the clan and I dinnae think any since her have had as many gifts as ye do. The fates may wish that to continue. ’Tis as if Lily has been reborn in you, and if ye die childless, then Lily dies again.”

  The thought of a child was temptation enough, Isbel mused. Pullhair did not really have to tug at her sense of family loyalty by mentioning Lily and the chance to continue her mark upon the MacLachlans. Patrick had failed to give her a child although he had certainly made an effort to do so in the short time he had bee
n with her. What made her hesitate was the thought of the pain she would endure if she became Kenneth’s lover and he still walked away. The day he would be strong enough to leave was swiftly approaching so she would not even have much time to persuade him to stay. And if he did leave her with child, she would be alone with a constant, living reminder of how she had failed to win his love. After a few moments of deep thought, she decided a child was worth the price.

  “I suppose the only thing to do is to go to him, although I dinnae ken one tiny thing about how to seduce a mon.” She smiled crookedly when Pullhair laughed.

  “All ye need to do is wear your prettiest nightdress, close the door behind you when ye enter his bedchamber, and smile at him.”

  “That sounds a little too easy.”

  “Trust old Pullhair, lass. The mon wants ye. His desire is so strong I could almost smell it. He is just being honorable. Aye, ’tis most good of him and shows that he has great respect for ye, but ye dinnae need such things now. Ye need a mon.”

  Isbel stared at the heavy door, all that stood between her and Kenneth. She knew it could also be all that stood between her and complete humiliation. Just because Pullhair said the man wanted her did not make it so. The brownie also seemed to have little regard for the state of her heart. She felt sure Pullhair knew she was already in love with Kenneth and that sharing the man’s bed would only deepen the emotion, yet he urged her to march into the man’s arms and risk a pain no salve or magic could cure.

  She took a deep breath to steady herself and smoothed her hands down her delicately embroidered, crisp white nightdress. She had not worn it since her wedding night, yet felt certain it was right to wear it now. Her long, thick hair was secured with a wide, blue silk ribbon, for when she had looked at herself with it hanging loose she had felt uneasy. It had looked far too wanton. As she lifted her hand and softly rapped on the door, she prayed it would take Kenneth at least a few moments to guess exactly why she had come. Isbel knew she would be sick with embarrassment if he knew immediately.

  The door opened and Isbel felt her breath catch in her throat. Kenneth wore only his braies. She had tried hard to forget how good his body looked, but the memories of all she had seen as she had nursed his wounds had been impossible to discard. The sight of his tall, lean figure now brought all those memories back in a heady rush. The hint of brown to his skin made it appear warm and inviting. His thick, wavy black hair fell just past his shoulders and she was eager to thread her fingers through it. Her heart pounding, she briefly met his dark gaze, then stepped past him into the room and began to look around.

  “Isbel,” he said quietly as he shut the door, never taking his eyes from her, “why are ye here?”

  Kenneth watched the thick swath of her hair sway to and fro as she moved, and he felt his insides twist with want. He also felt all of his grand intentions to be honorable seep away. He had been right to think that the only way to keep his hands off her was to stay away. Now she was in his bedchamber dressed in a sweet yet alluring nightdress. Everything about her invited him to reach for her, and if she did not leave in the next moment or two, he knew he would.

  “I am looking for Slayer,” she answered, not looking at him for fear he would see that she was lying. “There was a mouse in the kitchens. He should be down there hunting.”

  “He wasnae in here when I came in and I shut the door.”

  “And it has stayed shut?” She looked under the bed and idly noted that she needed to clean under there sometime soon.

  He grimaced as he suddenly recalled a few incidents, ones caused by the ghosts he was still struggling to ignore and deny the existence of. “There was a brief time when it was difficult to keep the door shut.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I never have visitors, weel, living ones leastwise, and ye are of great interest.” She stood up, brushed off her hands, and realized that he had moved closer. “I will speak to them but I cannae promise that they will heed me.”

  When he stepped even closer and reached out to trail his long fingers down the sleeve of her gown, she trembled. She clasped her hands behind her back, not wishing to let him see how they shook. There was a soft look in Kenneth’s brown eyes that told her Pullhair was right. Kenneth did want her. Isbel prayed that she had tempted the man enough, that he would now push all of his fanciful thoughts of honor aside. A strong sense of honor would have him pushing her out the door soon and that was the last thing she wanted.

  Kenneth gently grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her close, smiling faintly when he felt her trembling beneath his hands. “Isbel, did ye truly come to find your cat?”

  “Do ye really wish to hear the truth?” she asked in a soft, unsteady voice.

  “Aye, I have always favored the truth,” he murmured and touched a kiss to her forehead.

  “Nay, I didnae come to find the cat.”

  “What did ye come to find?” He cupped her face between his hands and brushed a kiss over her faintly parted lips.

  “Another kiss,” she whispered.

  “Isbel, my sweet child of the faeries, if I kiss you, ’twill nae end there.”

  “I am nay an innocent. I ken what the kiss could lead to.”

  “There will be no could about it. It will lead to a bedding. Ye pulled away from the first kiss we shared and I let you. I cannae promise I will let ye free this time. Not unless ye put up a verra loud protest.”

  “I willnae put up a loud one.” She curled her arms around his neck. “I dinnae think I will be inclined to even whisper one.”

  “Before we start to play this game, honor demands that I tell ye a few rules. I cannae promise ye I will stay—” He frowned when she stopped his words by touching her soft fingertips to his lips.

  “I ken that there will be no promises made. I ask for none, save for a wee taste of the passion I felt when we kissed.”

  “Aye, that I can give ye easily enough. But are ye sure ye dinnae want more of me?”

  “I didnae say I dinnae want more, just that I dinnae ask for it and accept that ye may ne’er wish to offer me more.”

  “Most lasses would want more.”

  She smiled and stood on her tiptoes, bringing her mouth close to kiss. “As ye may have guessed by now, I am nay like most women.”

  Kenneth laughed and picked her up then placed her gently on the bed. As he sprawled on top of her, he could not help but wonder if this was some dream. He had had enough of them about having Isbel in his bed, willing and eager. He could simply be having a particularly vivid one.

  As he slowly pulled the ribbon from her hair and ran his fingers through the thick waves of soft hair, he decided he would ask no more questions. A dream as real as this was not one he wished to interrupt.

  The moment Kenneth began to kiss her, Isbel knew she had made the right choice. If he did leave her, she would at least have sweet memories to ease her pain. Instinct told her that a passion as strong as this did not enter a person’s life too often, and if she let him leave without fully tasting it at least once, she would regret it for the rest of her life. She wrapped her arms around him, met the ferocity of his kiss and equaled it, and let her desires rule.

  Kenneth sighed with a mixture of satisfaction and regret as he finally eased away from the intimate embrace he and Isbel were locked in. He flopped onto his back, immediately reached for her, and pulled her into his arms. Although he was no profligate, he was not without experience and he knew he had never felt a desire so strong or found lovemaking so richly satisfying. Isbel was all any man could want in a woman.Unfortunately, she was also everything a man should not look for in a wife.

  He smiled faintly when she snuggled up against him. He idly moved his hand up and down her side, testing the smallness of her waist, and exploring the gentle curve of her hip. Isbel was a woman of passion, had a quick wit, was beautiful and honest. She was poor in wealth and land, had a strange family history, had a brownie as her closest friend, and seemed to be surrounded by ghosts and all else that most peopl
e spoke of in fearful whispers. Kenneth delighted in the former and heartily cursed the rest.

  “So, sweet Isbel, have ye found what ye sought?” he asked.

  “Nay, ye were right, Slayer isnae here.” She grinned when he laughed.

  “Wench.” He dragged her on top of him and gave her a quick kiss. “Ye could at least try to flatter a poor mon.”

  “Ah, ye need your vanity stroked.”

  “That and one or two other things.”

  “Beast. Aye, I found what I was looking for. And how fares your sense of honor?”

  “ ’Tis a wee bit bruised, but it will survive.”

  “Good, for I meant all I said.”

  “I believe you, and yet, ’tis odd but that makes me feel slightly guilty.” He smiled crookedly when she giggled.

  “Shall I leave you alone to wallow in it?”

  “Try to move, my bonnie spirit, and I shall be forced to take swift and immediate—” He frowned when he suddenly noticed a faint shifting in the shadows. “I am nay admitting that I believe in ghosts, but are ye certain we have been private?”

  Isbel sat up and glared at the specter lurking in the corner of the room. “Get out of here, Mary.”

  “Ye have betrayed Patrick.” The old woman’s voice echoed in her mind, and a quick glance at Kenneth assured Isbel that she was the only one who had heard Mary.

  “Nay, I am a widow. Have been one for near to a year. Now be away with you.” The moment the woman disappeared, Isbel assured Kenneth, “I did look o’er the room ’ere ye kissed me and saw no one so I believe we had our privacy.”

  Even as she spoke, she realized Kenneth was not paying her any attention. His gaze was fixed firmly on her breasts. She blushed as she became aware of how much of herself she had exposed by sitting up.