Highlander's Forbidden Soulmate

by Lydia Kendall

  Smiling, Hector kissed her cheek softly. He felt aroused when she twisted in his arms and kissed him full-on, the nipples of her breasts starting to peak as the intimate embrace continued. Hector was doubly sure now that Victoria had a desire he could happily match. Her free hand started to slide down his chest but Hector caught it.

  “Nae, lass,” he whispered on her lips. “I’m flattered but ye need some time tae recover. I will nae gie ye any more pain.”

  Victoria went still for a moment before she nodded and laid back, “Last night did happen.”

  “Aye,” Hector grinned while smoothing his hand over her hip, “An’ ye were everythin’ I kent ye’d be. Aboot time ye’ve awakened yer passion, me love, it would hae been spoiled if ye kept it locked away fer tae much longer.”

  “You might see it that way,” Victoria said softly while her head rested on his chest, “But many would see differently. To them, I am now a ‘spoiled’ woman, one of ill-repute, tantamount to a whore.”

  Anger bubbled into Hector’s system at the skewered perceptions of Englishmen - tradition was one thing but to deny your whole nature for the sake of tradition was complete nonsense to him.

  He marshaled the anger, though, and shook his head, “M'eudail, yer tha farthest thin’ from a hoore. I can show ye hoores, me love, an’ believe me, ye dinnae want tae be near them.”

  Victoria’s smile was tight at his failing attempt of humor before she sighed and closed her eyes. “What’s done is done and I don’t regret it. You showed me what the meaning of pleasure is, and I will never let that go.”

  As she twisted her head toward him, Hector kissed her softly, “Just as I wouldnae let ye go.”

  “But,” Victoria mused, “the problem remains - I have brought death to your house, Hector. It isn’t that I didn’t know. I should have learned from my Aunt’s mistake.”

  “Yer Aunt found love, Victoria,” Hector said soberly, “Tae his dyin’ day me Da loved yer Aunt an’ me brother. I wasnae second class, but Da loved me brother an’ yer Aunt even more than me an’ me Maw.”

  The young lady sat up fully, her mouth set in a thin line at the almost haunted look in Hector’s face. “I’m sorry.”

  With a shake of his head, Hector literally shook the remorse from his mind and with a kiss to her forehead, removed the sheets, stepped out of bed, and stretched his arms over his head. Even turned slightly away from her, Hector could feel her eyes on him, much like he had done to her.

  Hector knew his body was a compact mass of lean muscle and chiseled planes. Broad shoulders, trim waist, and sturdy thighs were gained from years upon years of intense training, hunting, and swimming. Shooting a look over his shoulder, he took in Victoria’s glassy eyes and smiled as he donned his discarded shirt and kilt.

  While belting the plaid, he said, “I’ll get some water fer a bath an’ scran from tha kitchen.”

  “Thank you,” Victoria replied.

  With another reassuring look to her, Hector left the room and though it was early, the castle was already awake. Scullery girls hurried with firewood, page boys were clearing the inner courtyard, and the kitchen was already in action.

  A cacophony of smells hit his nose the moment he stepped into the wide room - warm milk, roasted fowl, baking bread, pottage, and spiced mutton. The kitchen was made of sturdy stone, divided in two by a long stone table, while on each side were fire pits in hollowed out crevices with tiny chimneys above. Women were manning the firepots while men butchered meat on the long table.

  Luckily, Hector spotted Nessa, and with a gesture she came to him. “Guid mornin’, me Laird, what d’ye want tae bless yer stomach wi’ this morn?”

  Nessa’s perpetually positive mood never failed to cheer him even though he wondered how she kept such a bright outlook on life. His mother had told him that her husband, Conner McDuff, had been killed when the first Duke of Crowland had waged war against his people. Even worse, Nessa had been with child then, but with the news that her love had been killed, she had lost the child in grief.

  Hector felt horrible as he envisioned more wives losing their husbands just because he couldn’t let Victoria go. The painful thought of going to speak with the council today sent a leaden sensation through him but it had to be done. And then he needed to rouse up the soldiers and get them back in form.

  “Morn, Nessa,” Hector replied, “Yer milk an’ honey tea, warm bread, an’ any more o’ tha' fish ye might hae. Some beef cuts, tae. Send yer girls tae get some warmed water ready, also.”

  “Bathin’ wi’ tha lass, eh?” Nessa jibed while she got the food ready.

  “Nae,” Hector replied even though it was an enticing thought. “It’s tha icy river fer me this mornin’.”

  Nessa shot him a look while she heated up the milk and sliced the beef into slivers, “Ye ken tha' after makin’ love ye need tae spend some time wi’ tha lass, or are ye a dobber I ne’er took ye fer?”

  “Ach,” Hector swore as he briefly covered his eyes with his hand, “Is it tha' plain on me face?”

  “Like daylight,” Nessa said while stirring in the honey, and with a dismissive wave of her other hand. “Ye need a woman like tha' in yer life.”

  Hector’s eyebrows lowered, “A woman like her?”

  “Oh, yer Maw told me what she did fer ye,” Nessa replied while handing him the loaded tray. “At first me held me reservations aboot tha lass but years hae taught me, hatred only smears tha soul. I’ll be happy if she can teach tha rest o’ us tha same lesson by lovin’ ye.”

  Grateful for her words, Hector took the tray, “Thank ye, Nessa.”

  The thought of taking a bath with Victoria was tantalizing and sent shivers over his skin, but at the same time he knew that if he did that, they would fall back into bed and he didn’t have the time to indulge his base desires.

  Arriving at the door he spotted Felix and hailed him, “Thank ye, Felix.”

  “Just doin’ me job, Hector,” Felix replied with a serious nod. “When I’m nae here, Donald elected tae take o’er.”

  Pleasantly surprised at that his second had elected to guard Victoria, Hector nodded, “Much appreciated.”

  Inside he spotted Victoria, dressed in her clothes from last night, standing by the window looking out, with her arms wrapped around herself. Her body language was not inviting and Hector feared that she had retreated into despondency.

  “M'eudail, come eat,” Hector called softly, not moving until she turned around. Her expression was neutral and Hector sighed mentally, “I will be gone fer most o’ tha day, love, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Victoria’s face closed off before she came and willingly hugged him, “I know.”

  “Dinnae fret, love,” Hector said, forcing himself to believe his next words. “It’ll be all right.”

  Gathering his clean change of clothes, Hector directed her to eat and told her that women would be carrying in her bathing water soon. As he neared the door, something stalled his steps. He turned back and kissed her, deeply. “Hae some faith.”

  Pulling away, she sat at the table and dutifully took up her cup of warm tea. Leaving the servant stairs, Hector broke into the warm morning and took a shortcut toward the loch. A small smile crossed his face as he took the well-known trail to the cold water pond.

  Loch Obha was the life and breath of Clan MacTavish. It supplied them with swimming and deep diving, fresh water, delicious fish, and sporadic hunting opportunities when a rare thirsty deer wandered out for water. Stripping, Hector waded deep enough for the water to be waist-high and washed himself.

  He needed his head on his shoulders when he went to meet the council, especially Sir Brandubh. The man wasn’t easy to please on his best days but he was going to be insufferable after he told the council about the Duke and prepared the fighters for the war. He felt like a noose was hanging over his head, ready to drop and tighten whenever he let his attention slack.

  Dressed, he went back to the castle, and straightening his spine
, he entered the oblong room situated in the middle of the castle. Since the members of the council, three men and three women, were elders of the family’s branches, the room was symbolically placed to reinforce that lineage - respect and order were the center tenets of the Clan.

  From the doorway, he could hear the cough of Sir Donnchadh who he had left in charge, and the frail laugh of Lady Bietris. He knew that Sir Brandubh would be sitting silently in his chair and the moment he stepped inside he was going to be met with a hard, icy look. Stepping inside, his expectations were met. Though he forced his attention on the five other elders, he could feel Brandubh’s eyes scalping the side of his face.

  “Guid mornin’ honored elders,” Hector said as he took his place at the head of the table. His voice dropped into seriousness, “Thank ye fer comin’ so early tae this meetin’.”

  Sir Donnchadh waved him off, “Are ye here tae tell us yer aboot tae take up tha legacy yer Da left ye an’ forget this fool search fer his missin’ boy tainistear?”

  “No,” Hector said as he marshalled his mind to utter the next words. “But I am kennin’ aboot—”

  “Just spit it oot,” Sir Brandubh cut in stonily, “Tell them tha' yer here tae warn us fer war all because o' tha cursed Moore lass ye brought tae oor doors.”

  The silence that pulsed through the air felt like a living beast just waiting to devour the person who broke it. Sadly, that sacrifice fell on Hector as he faced the elders with a grim look, “I am.”

  Lady Caoimhe, a wizened woman with a calm nature, cleared her throat, “This Moore…I ken she's o' tha same family o' tha woman o' yer faither, aye?”

  “She is her niece,” Hector admitted tightly. “When Donald an’ I went tae find me Da’s son, Andrew, she was tha one who led us in tha right direction. She was searchin’ fer her cousin, tae.”

  “An’ ye couldn’t just take her words fer it an’ leave her be?” Sir Brandubh snapped, “Ye hae tae brin’ tha Sassenach here, tae! Ye were nae born then, boy, but I can tell ye tha horror those Englishmen brought us. A hundred o' oor guid men died fer one worthless lass an’ nae hundred more will die fer another!”

  Rage flared into Hector’s chest. He had hoped for a rational discussion but his declaration that Victoria was worthless infuriated him. He was about to speak but the older wolf-like man wasn’t done, “D’ye hae any sense boy? Ye hae just traded lives fer honkin' fanny!”

  Hector saw red and slammed his hands on the table, “Sir Brandubh, ye are me elder an’ ye hae a right tae voice yer concerns but ye will nae denigrate Lady Moore tae tha station o' a feckin' hoore! Ye dinnae ken what tha shite yer jabberin’ aboot, an’ I will nae hae it! Wi'out her we wouldnae hae come so close tae findin’ Andrew. She asked me fer asylum, an’ I am nae bastard tae turn her away after her kindness an’ sacrifice! I came here tae get yer combined minds tae figure oot oor next moves but, wi’ or wi’out ye, I will prepare oor men fer war!”

  If the tension from before was stifling, the pressure in the air was a burgeoning tempest. The elders were sitting straight with expressions that ranged from shocked to horror-struck. It was when the fire receded from his blood that Hector realized what he had just said and was about to apologize when Sir Brandubh scowled, pushed from the table and stalked, stiff-legged out of the room.

  Hector pressed his palms to his stinging eyes - that did not go well at all. He removed his hands and sank heavily into his chair. The faces around him weren’t pleased. He had actively disrespected a member of the council and that was tantamount to insubordination.

  “Hector.” Lady Bietris said sagaciously, “What is it o' this woman tha' has caused ye tae be so insolent tae yer elder?”

  After shooting a look at the doorway, Hector decided to deal with the people he still had and would deal with the one he hadn’t later, “Lady Bietris, I ken yer goin’ tae say I’m repeatin’ history an’ I am…but I cannae help it…Lady Moore did somethin’ fer me that I couldnae ignore. She came tae me in tha middle o' tha night to tell me aboot Andrew…”

  In a sober tone Hector reiterated the same tale he had told his mother, from the first meet, to the rush to the border. He impressed on them every valiant thing Victoria had done for them and why he felt so compelled to help her.

  He then added about Victoria’s father, who he was sure was coming for them with a double-dose of revenge for his sister and child. His mind was actively bonded with his memories and only came to the present when he finished his tale.

  For the third time, silence saturated the room but this time it was not threatening. Hector searched the still faces of the two men and the three women around the table and hoped for a good response, when it came.

  “Are ye sure she’s a Sassenach?” Lady Caoimhe said with a still expression. “Sounds born o' Scottish blood tae me.”

  Slumping a little, Hector took her words as some sort of approval and looked around once more. “So, do I hae yer approval fer rousin’ tha fighters?”

  “I kent ye dinnae need oor approval.” Sir Daividh, the third elder whom had stayed silent during the whole argument, added slyly. “But ye hae mine.”

  Folding his lips, Hector nodded in appreciation, “Thank ye, but ye other Sir, and Ladies...what aboot ye?”

  Evening was crawling in when Hector was finished with the council. He was so exhausted that the idea of searching for Sir Brandubh and apologizing had flittered from his mind. Upon reaching his door, he saw a welcomed sight - Donald was sitting there, sharpening a knife.

  The older man shot him a look before going back to the knife, “Ye look like a mound o’ shite.”

  “An’ I feel like it, tae.” Hector admitted wryly, “The council hae approved tha preparations fer war. I’m sorry, brother.”

  “I’m nae surprised,” Donald added as he stuck the knife in his boot before he stood to leave. “I always kent this day was comin’. Get ye inside an’ rest before ye fall doon. Be happy, ye hae a strong woman in yer bed.”

  “Thank ye, Donald,” Hector replied as tiredness overtook him. Inside, he found Victoria in the room, curled up in the window seat with her arms around her bent knees.

  Her hair was down and he was delighted to see her golden tresses at the middle of her back.

  God, what would it feel like tae hae tha' silken mane cossetin’ me bare skin?

  Her head twisted and the soft look she gave him pulled him in like the tide to a full moon. He reached out and tugged her up and pressed his nose to the side of her head.

  He was weary, but he felt as though he needed to do something for her. She had been closed up in the room for a whole day - surely she needed some fresh air and a wider perspective.

  “Walk wi' me, m'eudail,” Hector said tenderly. “Ye must want a change o’ scenery.”

  Casting a look around, Victoria daintily shrugged, “It wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Guid, put yer boots on,” he added.

  Taking the same solitary route from that morning, Hector took them both down to the banks of the loch. The deep blue of the water was darker than the deepening indigo sky. Hector kept her on the inside as they walked.

  “You said you spent a lot of yer time here?” Victoria replied, as they stopped to look out at the dark lake.

  “Aye,” Hector replied wistfully with an arm around her waist, “Spent a lot o' time tryin’ tae swim tha whole length, an’ nearly drowned meself twice.”

  “This morning…you went to tell your elders about my father, didn’t you?” Victoria replied soberly. Her attention turned from the loch to her lover, “What did they say?”

  Briefly, Hector thought about telling her what had happened with the elders, but declined to reiterate the whole tale. “I’d rather no’ talk aboot it.”

  “Hector,” Victoria said, “I forgot to tell you. Ruth told me that Andrew was born with a large white birthmark on his back, like spilled milk. I was hoping if we did find him, that would surely make him known.”

  Andrew - another pain surged as he felt t
he crippling disappointment that he had failed his father in not finding the man. While thinking about him, something niggled in the back of Hector’s brain, a fleeting memory but he let it pass, too tired to chase it. “Let’s go back tae tha castle, it’s gettin' late.”

  They took the same path back to the castle, but instead of going back to the room immediately, they took a slow turn around the garden. The flowers at night were much more fragrant than during the day and the perfume in the air was heavy.

  Dew was on the plants, too, and Hector plucked a glowing rose from a stem and earned himself a pricked thumb for it.

  “Damn it,” Hector swore as blood beaded and he stuck his finger in his mouth while slipping the rose in the crease of Victoria’s ear.