Highlander's Forbidden Soulmate

by Lydia Kendall

  Hector didn’t answer her, and his face went a bit tight. Still, Victoria pushed, “Do you doubt your father’s instinct? The man was convinced that he was living. You need to do the same until - God forbid - you find his grave. Those were your words. Live up to them. Do you doubt your own words?” Victoria glared mildly. “Or are you the fool I never took you for?”

  The air between them was still until an amused smile tugged at Hector’s lips. Before she knew it, Hector was kissing her, right in the open and under the purview of dozens of eyes. The kiss wasn’t deep or strong, but his touch still sent warmth through her body.

  “Ye wouldhae ne'er let a fool get close tae ye or e'en kiss ye,” Hector replied. “But yer right, he’s oot there somewhere. I just need tae find where.”

  “Let’s go back tae tha inn,” Donald inserted. “An' then we can go home. I’d bet me left arm tha' ye’ll get a better standpoint when yer surrounded by oor people.”

  The words had some substance to them and were good advice, but just the reminder that they were close to Clan MacTavish made Victoria’s nerves flare up again.

  “Aye,” Hector replied, “Let’s go.”

  The proprietress of the inn they were staying in had bent over backward to host the Laird of Clan MacTavish. Everything was free of cost; bedding and food. The fare the three got at the Beinne Inn, owned by a wonderful woman named Mrs. McGee, surpassed every cookery experience Victoria had ever imagined getting at an inn. They were offered fresh game, readily baked bread, ripe fruits, plump vegetables, and even sweets. The woman had even offered her personal bathtub for Victoria’s use.

  She was silent when Hector helped her up onto the horse, and they walked back to the inn. The reception they got upon arrival was one Victoria knew she would never get at Clan MacTavish. The joy and welcome she received here were going to be replaced with repulsion and scorn - she just knew it. Why would any sane person welcome with joy the seed of a murderer, the child of an enemy?

  Silently they dined on roasted pheasant glazed with honey, millet rice, steamed vegetables. Thick succulent slices of apple pie and a cup of spiced wine were the finishing course.

  Knowing that she might never get the chance to again, Victoria took a long bath in Mrs. McGee’s tub and tried to let her worries wash away with the dirt from her body.

  Dressed in a nightshift, Victoria took out her best clothes and her washed cloak to wear the next day, and as she was given a room for herself, pulled back the sheet and slipped into the soft bed. It was strange that she was lamenting the loss of scratchy bushes of the forest that had allowed her to lie in Hector’s arms.

  The next morning, dread had seeped into her system and hadn’t let go. Using Mrs. McGee’s offered brush and comb, Victoria brushed out the knots in her hair and combed her thick and long tresses into a fall over her shoulders and back.

  She faltered for a moment and pressed her face to the cold mirror. “Remember… you love him Victoria, think of that.”

  Bravely continuing, she fastened the cloak around her shoulders and went downstairs to meet Hector and Donald for their last meal with Mrs. McGee.

  “Guid mornin' tae ye,” The older woman smiled brightly with joy, an emotion that Victoria felt was far from her grasp. “Please sit, an’ enjoy, tha fare is oor best this morning.”

  The food was scrumptious, but Victoria could only bear to have a cup of warm milk and buttered bread. Her stomach was in too much turmoil to eat any more.

  Keen green eyes had picked up on her mood, but thankfully, Hector hadn’t spoken to her of it. When the breakfast feast was done, Hector dutifully gave the owner his thanks, on behalf of all of them, before they got on their horses and rode away.

  Victoria was trapped in her mind. She envisioned looks of scorn and hateful glares to the point she didn’t see the majestic castle perched on a hillside presiding over the village below. Her heart started pounding hard when she heard loud shouts and happy cries coming from all sides.

  Snapping out of her mind, Victoria took in the people that streamed out of houses on the left and right, and hemmed in on them as close as the trotting horse would allow. She felt sick to her bones - this joy was soon going to turn into grief.

  Then the horse took the slope upwards, and the dark stone castle looming over her sent dark intimidation so deep into her spirit that she froze. She felt cold, as though she was walking to her doom, when Hector guided the horse into a large courtyard. There, in the middle of the square, was a woman that Victoria needed no introduction to know - her poise said it all. She was Hector’s mother, Coira. A woman who was bound to hate her.

  Hector alighted from the saddle, and she felt numb. Her senses were far from her body when Hector helped her down from the horse and led her forward. Victoria’s legs felt like lead, heavy and cumbersome to lift as she crossed the dirty span and stood before the dark-haired woman.

  “Welcome back home me son…an,’ who is this?” the words were said calmly, but Victoria had a bizarre feeling that this woman already knew who she was.

  Swallowing tightly, she lifted her hands and removed the hood from her head even as her head was bowed. “I am Victoria Moore.”

  She could not bear to look the woman in her eyes. Victoria only felt a hand nudge her head up, and forcing herself not to flinch away, she met the woman’s deep green eyes that were still and hard for a long moment.

  “I kent this would happen,” Coira said flatly.

  Her eyes closed in defeat. She had lost before she had even been given a chance to win. It was all over, her love for Hector was doomed to die. She was going to be sent home in disgrace.

  Chapter 26

  The joyful noise in the large courtyard of MacTavish castle was getting gradually still as the word, Moore, was uttered. Eventually, it came to a stop altogether, and the silence was louder than a death knell. Most of the younger generation did not know what level of pain and agony the word Moore had brought but the older set did know and seeing how the elders reacted, the younger did the same.

  Hector knew Victoria wasn’t a fool and he knew she had worried about her reception at the Scottish household, so it made perfect sense for her to state who she was outright and allow for the repercussions. If she had tried to deceive his mother and it was found out afterwards who she was, the consequences would be much worse, so she had used the best course - no matter how painful it was.

  It did worry him, though, how calm and cold his mother was. This was not what he had expected of her, or his clan by extension.

  “Hector.” Coira said evenly while stepping back from the two, “Take Lady Moore tae yer quarters, secure her an’ then come tae yer Da’s old meetin’ room.”

  “Aye, Maw,” Hector replied, knowing that by putting her in his quarters, his wise mother was saving Victoria from any attempt of vengeance from the people who had lost loved ones in the fight with her grandfather.

  Shooting a look to the poor girl whose face had gone sickly pale, Hector placed a soft hand on Victoria’s shoulder, grimacing to himself about the drawn, hopeless, and defeated look in her eyes. “C’mon, lass, let’s get inside.”

  MacTavish castle, built way back in the olden ages, was like a maze to one who didn’t know it. It was built to confuse any attacker who thought it was easy to invade. The halls seemed to circle upon themselves and the corridors seemed endless, but Hector, being born and raised in the middle of the stone fortress, knew it well.

  He gently took Victoria under the eaves of the magnificent scaffold and through the wide double doors. The entrance hall that held three corridors, one to the left, one to the right, and a large one in the middle, was dim, as the candles that lined the gutters in the wall hadn’t yet been lit. Hector dropped his hand to place it on the small of her back and lightly guided her down the left corridor. He felt pain go through him when Victoria kept her eyes lowered to the ground.

  They took another corridor, smaller this time, that came to a rising spiral of stairs. Without a word, Vic
toria climbed it and Hector forced himself to concentrate on getting them both to his rooms. The apex of the stairs had a short corridor with one door, and gratefully Hector pushed it open.

  He didn’t see the new rushes on the floor or the new sheets on the bed or even the thick new candles standing on the tables, as his focus was on Victoria.

  Closing the door, he grasped her by her arms and after pulling her into him, he held her slightly trembling body.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” Victoria said quietly, with her head canted to the side. “Coming here was a mistake. I fooled myself thinking I’d be received well. I’m still an enemy, and I knew it.”

  Hector wasn’t sure about his next words, but he hoped they would be self-fulfilling, “Ye just hae tae prove tae them tha' yer no’ like yer forefathers, m'eudail. Yer actions will o'erride their suspicions.”

  Victoria was quiet before she spoke, “I’ll go back, Hector, and we both know it. Father will come to get me, and I cannot live with myself if I’m another cause of pain to your people. They suffered for my Aunt Emily. I cannot make them do the same for me.”

  Hector pulled back and rested his lips on her forehead, “Nae, ye cannae go back. I’ve found ye, love, an’ I’m nae lettin’ ye go - come what may - e'en if I hae tae walk through hell itself an’ stare tha devil in his eyes.”

  From the darkened blue orbs so close to him, Hector could see that the heiress was still mired in the deep pits of uncertainty. She then gently untangled herself from his arms and looked around.

  “Why did your mother tell you to take me to your rooms?” Victoria asked before she emitted a small disparaging laugh, “There’s only one bed…she already thinks we’ve been together, doesn't she?”

  “Probably,” Hector replied honestly. “But it’s more aboot yer protection. It seems like some people hae longer memories than I counted fer.”

  Victoria didn’t answer to these words instantly as she started to meander through the room, flitting her fingers on the smooth wood of the bed, the soft sheets that covered it, and the rough stone walls. “They would have a right to take vengeance.”

  All of a sudden, righteous anger surged into Hector’s system. How could anyone demand payment from this kind, generous, and brave woman for the sins of her grandfather? But then, he reminded himself that they did not know her like he had come to know her. Hector swallowed his rage, even though it settled like burning coals in his stomach.

  Reaching out, he gently kissed her this time. A deep, reassuring kiss that he hoped would give her some ease. He needed her to believe that he was going to protect and care for her, no matter who or what tried to come between them.

  Her lips were just as sweet as the first time he had tasted them, and his scarred hands pressed her closer, one on her hip and the other at the base of her neck. Hector needed her to calm down and trust him when he said he was going to protect her.

  “Gie tha lass a moment tae breathe, son.” Coira’s flat voice came from the doorway, “There’ll be much more time fer tha'.”

  The Laird was annoyed, but Victoria looked mortified and could only hide her face away from the woman who was standing, unaffected, at the door.

  “Maw, what can I do fer ye?” Hector asked while not moving his eyes from the woman he loved.

  “I need tae speak wi’ ye,” Coira said, with her arms folded over her dark blue dress. “Noo, son.”

  Looking over his shoulder, Hector saw the serious mien of his mother’s face and the stiffness of her posture. It didn’t take much for Hector to know she was not pleased.

  “Aye, Maw,” Hector sighed, “I’ll be back, lass, bide ye, an’ dinnae open tha door if it isnae me or Donald.”

  The paleness had returned to Victoria’s face, and though Hector loathed walking away, his mother was not one to be refused. Closing the door behind him, Hector followed his mother down the staircase and stood at the entrance of the stone flight.

  Coira arched an eyebrow, “Are ye nae comin’?”

  “I cannae leave her so soon, Maw,” Hector replied, “I want tae believe in oor people but seein’ tha…reception in tha courtyard, ye’ll hae tae excuse me fer bein’ double careful.”

  “Psh,” Coria huffed while waving her hand in dismissal, “Tha lass will be, ye suspicious boy, come wi’ me. What I hae tae say I’d prefer nae tae be done in tha open.”

  “I’m nae movin’, Maw,” Hector said stubbornly. “What ye hae tae say can be said right here.”

  The older woman stalled in the middle of the hallway she had walked to and slowly turned back to her resolute son, standing like a monolith in the middle of the entranceway. She then retraced her steps and stood right in front of him.

  “If tha's how ye want it, I’ll oblige.” Coira said stiffly, “I kent I’ve raised ye wi’ more sense than many would believe an’ I’m sure tha' tha head on yer shoulders hae told ye what I’m aboot tae say, but I’ll say it anyway. Ye’re callin’ yer faither’s curse upon yerself Hector - but nae only ye but tha whole Clan! Tha' man is goin tae call up all tha hounds o' hell from Crowland tae attack us, only because ye couldnae keep yer heed on.”

  “Maw, I d–”

  Her glare sent the burgeoning words back down Hector’s throat. “D’ye ken how many nights I heard yer Da callin’ fer tha' woman’s aunt in his sleep? D’ye ken how many times I had tae console meself wi’ tha small portion o' his heart he was able tae gie tae me, when tha majority o' it was still tied up wi’ hers? D’ye ken how many days I spent alone while yer faither was oot lookin’ fer yer brother when he had ye at home?”

  Hector looked behind his mother’s anger and knew she was still in pain. The Laird knew his father had loved his mother but they all knew that while alive Fergus still loved the Sassenach, Emily. Hector just hadn’t known how much.

  “Maw—”

  “I lost him, Hector!” Coira said, with her words laced with regret and grief, “I lost tha man I loved far afore he died, an’ since ye hae deemed it right tae repeat history, I’ll lose ye tae. Tha' Duke will come fer ye, Hector, an’ I’ll hae tae lose me flesh an’ blood.”

  Hector could not take it anymore. He hated to hear his mother’s pain and regret, so he hugged her close, “Ye’ll no' lose me, Maw, I’ll live tae gie ye grandbairns, so dinnae start plannin’ me funeral already.”

  The woman was quiet, before she replied, “Ye ken tha' ye need tae prepare tha men fer war. An’ no doubt aboot it - war will come.”

  “I ken,” Hector replied pensively. “Just so ye ken, Maw, I’ve nae bedded tha lass.”

  “Nae yet,” Coira replied while pulling away. “That kiss tells me more than ye ken…but why, Hector? Why would ye put yerself an’ yer whole clan back in trouble?”

  Shooting a look upwards to the stairs Hector then turned his eyes back on his mother, “I’ll meet wi’ ye in yer rooms, Maw. This cannae be told here. I’ll hae tae make sure she’s settled, gie her some scran an’ post a guard at me door while I speak wi’ ye.”

  Coira’s eyes sparked with deep curiosity, but she nodded, “Aye. Go back tae her, I’ll deal wi’ tha cooks an’ send one o' oor men tae guard tha lass. Donald’s takin’ a guid deserved rest so dinnae e’en ken o’ botherin’ him.”

  Relieved about his mother’s generous offer and her peaceable demeanor, Hector kissed her on her cheek before taking the stairs two at a time to get back to Victoria.

  When he did, he spotted her sitting on the edge of the bed with her cloak gone and her hair - her glorious hair was down and cascading around her shoulders. The warm light coming from the window at the end of the room played over the golden strands, rendering them white-gold, like silk from heaven. However, her expression wasn’t so glorious.

  “He will come, Hector,” Victoria said quietly before he could say a word. “My father will come, and he’ll exact revenge on you, not only for me, but for his sister. He still hates that your father took her away from him. I fear that he’ll be worse than my grandfather was.”


  “We can defend oorselves, Victoria.” Hector replied, “We aren’t as unsuspectin’ or unarmed as we were before.”

  His words were aimed to be placating, so he wasn’t prepared for her to shoot up from the bed and snap, “That’s the point! I don’t want you to defend yourselves, Hector! This is all my fault! If I hadn't been so headstrong and picky, dreaming of a life with a man that could give me more than worldly comforts, none of this would have happened! I told you, I cannot live if you die!”

  Victoria slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified that, though she had meant to say ‘his people’ just like before, her heart had narrowed it down to him. But it was true - Victoria truly didn’t think she could survive much longer if he died.

  Hector, however, was more than pleased with her words and gently took her trembling hands away, “Then tha only option love, is nae tae die.”