He’d settled for ashes, and had stood upwind of the fire that he might not smell the worst of the man as he burned. Davina had been far away, walking on her own, and was just now returning.
He’d feared she never would. That she could not bear the sight of him. That she regretted ever wishing for her brother’s death and somehow held herself accountable for it.
Now, she walked toward him, wrapped in a cloak, her face unreadable. She reached him as the first few raindrops fell, taking shelter beneath the birch’s branches. When she leaned in, closer to him, he held her to him and rejoiced silently that she still wanted him at all.
After watching her mourn, weeping over Ian’s body, he’d thought for certain she would hate him for having fired the shot that killed her brother.
“This is a lovely place for them,” she whispered, her head against his chest. “It will be even better when the autumn comes, and the leaves change color.”
“Aye, that it will,” he whispered, his lips against her hair. “How are ye, lass? What can I do for ye?”
“Hold me for a bit.” Her voice trembled. “Just hold me, please.”
“For as long as ye like. For the rest of my life, if I can.”
“I would like that, though I do believe it will rain in earnest soon, and we ought to go inside before it does.”
He chuckled. “I didna mean in this very spot, lass. What of the snow when it comes? But I do intend to hold ye for as long as ye will allow me to.”
“I do like the sound of the rest of our lives.”
“Ye do? After everything?”
She sighed, as he’d known she would, but it was not unhappy. Troubled, perhaps. “What happened could not be stopped. Ian would not allow it to stop. I tried, truly. I begged.”
“Aye, and I see what ye got in repayment.” Both sides of her face were bruised, swollen, from where Ian had struck her, thrown her to the wall. Had Rufus known of this, he would not have allowed the man such a quick death.
“He insisted, however. I believe he wished to die. Perhaps it was for the best that he die that way, instead of rotting in that house, dying in his own filth. Out of his mind. Ye did him a kindness.”
“And ye can forgive me for it?”
“There is nothing to forgive.” She shook her head as she looked at him. “Nothing at all. I want us. For the rest of our lives.”
Her hands were blessedly warm and gentle on the sides of his face, and he closed his eyes in gratitude. Perhaps that was a prayer, his silent words of gratitude. “That is how it shall be, then,” he decided.
“Where will we be, do ye think? Here? Elsewhere?”
“What do ye wish?”
Her sweet smile was balm on his wounded, long-lonely heart. “To be with ye. Only to be with ye. Nothing more than that.”
“Even though I am stubborn and hard-headed and monstrous?”
“Aye. I do not believe I could like ye half as much if ye were not so very difficult to like at times.”
“Och, ass. Ye know how to wound a man.” But he was laughing, and he pulled her into a deep, searching kiss which threatened to break his self-control. What a way to pay respect to his parents, by taking the lass at their grave.
The clouds gave way then, soaking them both in moments despite the overhanging branches and leaves. Laughter bubbled up in her chest, escaping her mouth when he pulled away.
He took her beaming face in his hands. “I love ye, Davina MacFarland, and if ye would do me the honor, I would make ye my wife and make this our home. I want to build a life with ye, to build a family with ye.”
“Here? You’re certain?”
“I could be happy anywhere, so long as I was with ye.” Yet he frowned. “Ye have not accepted me yet, however, so I might be saying this for no reason at all.”
Her eyes flew open, and once again she laughed. “I will marry ye! Of course! Did ye think I would not?”
“With ye?” He drew her close, tracing the lines of her face with his fingertips. “I have learned to expect anything.”
Epilogue
It was a simple wedding, with only the people who mattered to them in attendance.
Clyde looked for all the world like a proud father as he walked down the road with Davina on his arm, the two of them approaching the kirk in Avoch in which Rufus had been baptized. He had insisted on buying all of the men new kilts and tunics, new hose and shoes. He wanted all of them to look their best for his bride on their wedding day.
Including William Blackheath, who had come straightaway on hearing of Rufus’s victory and impending wedding. He was the reason everything had been set in motion, why the men who’d ridden across the Highlands with Rufus were with him at all. Why they stood beside him that very day.
As the commander of a great laird’s guard, a man such as William did not often have the chance to take time away, but Laird Richard and he were the best of friends, and as such there was a bit more leniency.
Rufus was glad for it. There was a sense of rightness in Blackheath’s presence at the wedding.
He smiled just as broadly as Alec and Tyrone, the three of them surely planning to enjoy themselves that night at the modest feast in honor of the bride and groom. They deserved it, all of them, that and so much more for what they’d given Rufus.
Friendship, brotherhood. Their loyalty. He knew now how indispensable those things were.
The priest waited by his side outside the open door leading into the kirk, smiling gently at his obvious nervousness. “Tis all right, lad. I have never lost a groom in all my years.” Judging by the man’s thin, white hair and slight, unceasing tremor, that had been a good many years.
Davina’s shy smile shone out at him like a ray of sun, lighting her face and the very air around her. She had requested the honor of wearing MacIntosh tartan—women being permitted to wear the colors, even if men were not, and the bold, bright colors stood out against her creamy skin and the white heather which she carried in one arm.
Drew stood to his left, grinning, nudging him with an elbow. “She turned out quite bonny, at that,” he murmured.
“Aye. That she did.”
“Far better than ye deserve.”
Rufus snorted, shaking his head at his cousin’s irreverence even at such a solemn moment.
Drew would be living with them for at least the next several months, while Rufus got the farm in order again. Months of neglect had turned the fields to little more than clumps of weeds and rotten vegetables, the outbuildings had fallen into disarray, and it would take a great deal more than his efforts and skills alone to undo the damage.
But it could be managed.
If Davina could fall in love with him and agree to be his wife in such an uncertain world, in a life in which neither of them knew what the next day would bring, he could certainly put his sweat and strength into building a thriving farm and home for her to live in.
Clyde looked fit to burst with pride as he brought Davina to join Rufus at the kirk doors and placed her hand in that of her soon-to-be husband. He would likely settle in the area, just to be near her and watch her family grow. Their bond was something Rufus did not understand, but could appreciate.
After all, she had never had much of a father. They were an odd pair, but a good one, and Rufus was happy to accept him as part of their wee clan.
“Are ye both prepared?” The priest smiled at him, then at his bride, brows raised in expectation.
Davina squeezed his hand, then nodded. “Aye. I believe we are.”
Rufus could only agree.
Keep reading for the next Highland Temptations story!
A Highlander’s Gypsy
Book Two of the Highland Temptations Series!
* * *
Her gypsy soul haunts his dreams...
William Blackheath’s had recurring dreams, the same one, over and over again, of a woman calling out for him, asking for help. He doesn’t believe in seers, but goes to visit one anyway, to learn what the dreams me
an. He’s told that to find peace, he has to find the woman.
Shana Invermore’s half Scottish, half gypsy. She’s definitely not a wilting flower, nor is she always one to follow laws. She can raid with the best of them. Until she’s caught.
Now Shana’s the captive Jacob Stewart. And that damned Steward plans to use her as bait. She’ll show him who’s bait.
1
William Blackheath managed to stay upright in the saddle as he rode through the stone arch leading into the courtyard. Laird Richard’s household moved as it always did, with great energy, with life, with shouts and laughter and the sound of the blacksmith’s hammer striking iron. It moved around him as he walked his horse through the melee.
He was among it, but he was not part of it. His concentration, if there was any, was far away.
What would Richard think when William told him what the seer had to say? Well, it had been his idea for William to go to the woman for assistance, and before that, the notion had been borne in the mind of Richard’s silly spinster aunt. Innis Munro was known for her odd beliefs almost as well as she was for her unfortunate looks and shrewish nature.
Yet, when she’d spied William looking less and less like himself every day—drawn, pallid, all but falling asleep on his feet while accompanying Richard in official duties such as visits to his tenants—she had finally inquired as to his health.
No one got around Innis Munro and her sharp eyes when she set her mind on learning what it was she wished to know. And she had wished to know of William’s ailment.
He’d very nearly been sorry to inform her it wasn’t an illness at all, unless being robbed of sleep night after night for weeks on end could be considered illness. He supposed it could at that. He did, after all, feel very nearly ill on an almost constant basis now.
Never, even while serving alongside Laird Richard Munro in the Jacobite rising, had he so suffered due to lack of sleep. Yet it wasn’t only sleepless nights and the deepening circles beneath his eyes which plagued him.
It was the reason for his sleeplessness. The dreams. Dreams which haunted his waking thoughts, which wrapped themselves around his mind like vines and squeezed the very life from him. He imagined them this way sometimes. At other times, these dreams and the haunting memories they left behind were like a bog filled with thick, sucking muck which threatened to pull him under and smother him.
If sleeplessness hadn’t already left him half-dead of exhaustion, fighting against the nightmarish images which flashed before him every time he closed his eyes even for the briefest moment would have finished the job.
He dismounted and handed the reins to the only stable lad he trusted with his prized horse, a sable gelding Richard had gifted to him on returning from the ill-fated war against the loyalists. The beast was magnificent, finer than anything William had ever owned, and Richard knew it. They’d grown up alongside one another when his father had served as the leader of Laird Hugh’s guard, and so they were aware of the other’s personal history as though it were their own.
Entering the keep, he sidestepped two lasses carrying buckets of water before either of them sloshed onto his trews and hurried past the great hall on his way to Richard’s study. He would be there at this time of day, managing his correspondence while taking his midday meal.
He looked up at hearing William enter, his familiar, dark eyes narrowing. “Close the door behind ye. What came of your visit?”
William did as Richard bade, then took a seat before the fire and slumped in the high-backed chair. “’Tis a cold day,” he grumbled. “I feel it in my bones. We’ll have a hard winter.”
“Aye, aye, I didna ask for your opinions on the weather, man.” Richard’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What happened with the seer? Was my aunt correct? Did she offer any assistance?”
“Aye, she did, as everyone your aunt has suggested did.” William closed his eyes, reveling in comfort and the warmth afforded by the cheerful, crackling fire, and once again saw the image of a woman. A screaming, pleading woman. One in dire need of his aid.
His eyes snapped open.
Richard, naturally, was unaware of the nightmare images in his lifelong friend’s head. “What was her advice, then?”
“Ye aren’t going to enjoy it, my friend.”
“I dinna enjoy watching ye fall to pieces before my very eyes, either. Ye have turned into an old man long before your time.”
“And I am failing ye.” William fixed him with a level gaze. “Let us come to the truth, then. I am failing in my position as head of the guard, and ye canna have that. Dinna argue with me,” he was quick to add, raising a hand in the air. “Ye deserve a man with strength, energy. I have neither of those things now.”
“As such, since I refuse to find anyone else to fill your position, I will ask ye again what the seer told ye to do. Not another tonic, I pray.”
“Nay. I dinna believe I could swallow one more tonic. Or ale, for that matter. Tinctures, all a waste of time. In this case, the seer in question recommended I take action.”
“Take action,” Richard repeated with a frown. “And what does she believe you’ve done all along? You’ve been taking action by visiting every seer and healer from here to Hades and following their advice.”
“I have not, however, tried to find the one I dream of.”
Understanding washed over Richard, and he sat back in his chair with a sigh. “Ah. That’s it, then. She instructed ye to leave the castle and search for this one who’s been plaguing ye for weeks.”
“That she has.” William stretched his legs before him, his feet still cold and needing to be nearer the fire. Removing his tam, he ran a hand through his unruly hair in an attempt to tame it, though it was a waste of time. Both the deep red color and the wildness of the way it waved and curled were beyond his control.
He sighed again, a heavy sigh filled with weariness and trouble. “She does not believe these dreams are merely dreams, but signs. Warnings. When I told her they’re all of the same one, and that she appears to be in danger and in need of my aid, that decided her. I’m to ride south—she was certain of this, mind ye—and find the lass.”
“She was certain she lives? That this isn’t all in your mind?”
“I’m sure the woman knows no more about dreams than we, but she swears they have a deeper meaning. Ye know me, man. I pay no heed to such nonsense.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, which ached from the mere effort of holding his head erect. “Yet I must admit, if there is a way to rid myself of this torture…”
“Did the seer have anything else to offer?” Richard looked as unconvinced as William felt, but his aunt had sworn as to the honesty and talent of this latest seer. “Who is she? Why does she need ye?”
“I’ve not the first notion, and the seer could offer nothing. I canna tell ye who she is, for I never saw her before the dreams began. Most nights, her face is never clear enough for me to make out her features. She might as well be made of smoke, which I suppose she is, in a way, as she’s nothing more than a dream, no matter what the seer believes.”
“This is more than a dream, and ye know it. Why else would I stand by and allow ye to do something I know ye believe to be foolish? You’ve no more faith in seers than I have. It’s no wonder none of them have provided ye any relief before now.”
“There is not promise that this will offer any, either.”
“Ye canna go on this way. Ye must try.”
“And leave this castle? For who knows how long? I canna leave my position. Unless ye wish to be rid of me and replace me with one of the other men.”
Richard scowled. “Och, aye, ‘tis precisely my plan. You’ve gone daft, man. I only wish for ye to be rid of whatever it is hanging over your head. If searching for the one you’ve dreamt of and—if need be—saving her is what need be done, so be it. Besides, with the cold weather coming on, we’d all be sitting around the fire getting fat. We’ve no threats in the surrounding area. We shall do well without ye for th
e time being.”
William stared into the fire, brooding over the idea of being away from the only home he’d ever known. “If only there was a way of knowing where I need to be, or how long it will take to get there. This is the height of folly.”
“Aye, I suppose it is. Though ye had best be on your way before the truly cold weather settles in. There is no time to sit and ask yourself if this is the best course of action.”
“I dinna wish to ride over the country, feeling like a fool.”
“What if I order ye to go?”
This got William’s attention. He turned to his friend. “Ye have never ordered me about in your life, and I’ve never been likely to listen to an order.”
“Then it’s high time ye begin to listen to my orders,” Richard decided, rapping his knuckles on the wooden table at which he worked. “I order ye to assemble your packs, and I’ll send one of the girls to the kitchen to arrange food and drink to be taken with ye. Ye had best be on your way soon, as night will fall before ye know it and you’ll wish to have time to find somewhere to take shelter for the night.”
“Ye dinna mean it. Ye expect me to leave now? Today?”
“Why wait? Ye wish to spend another sleepless night beneath this roof, when ye might be that much closer to finding this lass and ending this once and for all? I’ve never known ye to be anything but a man of action. If there was ever a time to take action, ‘tis now.”
A time to take action. If only he knew which action to take. “What if this seer was just as wrong as the others? Wouldn’t that make me the biggest fool in all the Highlands? Riding about, finding nothing and no one, wasting my time when there’s work to be done here, at the castle.”
“Work which ye canna do if you’re falling asleep on your feet, man.” Richard looked down at his table, scrolls, and papers strewn across it, and picked up a silver-handled dirk.
Highland Temptations: Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 19
