Highland Captive

by Alyson McLayne

  Nay, they were both done in.

  Kerr approached the creek with his stallion and crouched beside Gavin for a drink. When he finished, he wiped his mouth on his linen sleeve and followed Gavin’s gaze to where Deirdre and Ewan had disappeared into the forest.

  “Are you expecting trouble?” he asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  “But you doona like Ewan out of your sight?”

  Gavin nodded. “Especially if Deirdre is with him.”

  “She hardly seems capable of escaping—either by herself or with a child. Let alone incapacitating Clyde first.”

  “Aye, I know. It’s not a rational fear.”

  Kerr squeezed his shoulder. “But understandable. Did she tell you anything further?”

  “She said that she did not find Ewan or steal him. Which means someone gave him to her. Her husband, most likely.”

  “’Tis what the castle folk said when I questioned them. I wouldnae have thought it in Lewis’s nature to steal a child, so maybe he found Ewan. Lewis was a kind lad when I knew him and reviled by his father in the same way I was reviled by mine, except he didn’t have the stones to stand up to his da like I did—or the support of all of you and Gregor. Doona rush to judgment, Gavin, until we have the full story.”

  Gavin nodded, but his muscles tensed in resistance. Deirdre had known he was Ewan’s father before she’d run from him at the spring gathering. “What else did they say?”

  “That Lewis brought Ewan home after one of his ‘absences’ and said the boy was his son. Deirdre raised him after that.”

  “Absences? ’Tis an odd word choice.”

  “According to the groom, who was hushed by the housekeeper, Lewis only lived there periodically.”

  “Deirdre too?”

  “Nay, she was there the whole time. They said her trip to the gathering a few days ago was the first time she’d left. Ever. And according to her maid, she didn’t want to go—especially not without Ewan—but Lewis insisted. So she wasn’t trying to keep the lad hidden.”

  Gavin couldn’t help imagining what would have happened if Ewan had been at the gathering, if Gavin had seen his son in the middle of the market. Then Deirdre wouldn’t have run. And they’d already be home. “Where does Lewis go when he leaves? His father’s keep? Or some of the other defensive posts?”

  “No one could say for sure. And Laird MacIntyre hasn’t been there in years. As Clyde said earlier, his father is trying for another male heir and doesn’t seem to want anything to do with his firstborn.”

  “Well, Lewis obviously has Deirdre’s loyalty. She wouldnae spill her husband’s secrets, so he must not have treated her poorly.”

  “And by the looks of it, not your son either. Ewan’s a happy and well-loved lad, Gavin. You can put that worry to rest.”

  Aye, he had, but how could he tell Kerr that even so, he did not want Deirdre to have one extra minute with his son? She’d stolen time from him, whether she’d known it or not. Time with Ewan that he couldn’t get back.

  If anything, he was more filled with anger than before. He thought he would be happy to find his son, and he was—overjoyed!—but he was furious too. Especially now that he had someone to focus that anger on.

  He didn’t think Kerr would see it that way—and maybe he was right.

  But for now, Gavin couldn’t let it go. “I just want to keep Ewan safe. Like I failed to do the last time.”

  Kerr clapped him on the shoulder, then rose and stretched to the sky with a noisy yawn. “It’s been a long couple of days. I shall sleep well tonight whether it’s on the hard ground or in a field of flowers.”

  “’Tis the same thing, is it not? I canna imagine the flowers will be any softer once you’ve flattened the life out of them.”

  “Mayhap a patch of moss then.” He reached into his saddlebag and tossed Gavin an apple, then took one for himself. “And you, Brother? Will you finally sleep?”

  Gavin knew why his foster brother was asking. All the family worried about his lack of sleep the last few years—e’er since Ewan was taken. Before that, even, when the marriage he’d had such high hopes for had withered and died. The Cristel he thought he’d married—a giving woman who loved him and shared common interests, who enjoyed his touch—hadn’t existed. Instead, she’d wanted them to live separate lives and had encouraged him to find his pleasure elsewhere.

  Gavin had been devastated. And furious. He’d been brought up with loving parents whose only sorrow had been their lack of bairns after Gavin was born. They’d weathered several miscarriages and even a stillborn. When Isobel had finally come along, healthy and squalling, ten years later, it had been a true blessing.

  And he’d seen the love that his foster father, Gregor, had for his wife Kellie. He’d never stopped loving her, even after she was lost to him during childbirth, but he’d sworn he would take their marriage vows to his grave.

  Gavin had wanted, and expected, that same happiness with Cristel. She had certainly played the part in the beginning, pretending to love him until after their wedding night.

  When she’d birthed Ewan, she’d finally been honest with him: if Gavin hadn’t been laird, she would never have married him. And now that she’d given him a son, she would not continue their physical intimacy. She’d trapped him with lies and false intentions, and in so doing, had destroyed all Gavin’s dreams of a loving, supportive union.

  He thought back to what Kerr had asked him and shook his head. “I doona think sleep will come so easily. Maybe once we’re in the keep and I know he’s safe.”

  “Do you think we’ve been followed?” Kerr asked.

  “Nay, it would take the MacIntyres at least a day to organize a search.”

  “So something else is bothering you then. Deirdre? Aye, I’m worried about her too. It seems an unfair punishment to take her child from her when all she’s done is love him.”

  Gavin rounded on him. “My child!”

  Kerr’s eyes widened at his outburst before they narrowed on him. “No one’s saying he’s not your child, Gavin. But you canna deny that she loves him as a mother should, and he loves her right back. To separate them could cause irreparable harm—to both. I doona know what the answer is, but I do know that we shouldnae rush into making a decision.”

  “’Tis no’ ‘we’ making the decision, Kerr. It falls on my shoulders alone. I am Ewan’s father and his laird. ’Twill be my cross to bear.”

  “Aye, ’tis a burden for sure. And it will only get heavier if you doona allow us to help you carry it.”

  Kerr spoke the truth—and Gavin remembered saying something similar to Callum’s wife, Maggie, last summer. But in this instance, he didn’t see any possible compromise. And certainly, no happy ending.

  “Why hasn’t she had other children?” he asked, flinging his half-eaten apple into the woods angrily. “They’ve been married for seven years. Surely a woman as young and fertile as her wouldnae be barren?”

  Kerr’s brow rose. “There’s ten years between you and Isobel. You of all people should know that conception is not always guaranteed. Besides, it may be him and not her at fault.”

  “Aye. ’Tis just…if she had other bairns…”

  “She might not feel the loss of Ewan so acutely. I’ve thought the same thing.” Kerr sighed. “No matter what choices are made, good people will be hurt.”

  Gavin bit his tongue just before he blurted out, Good people doona run off with other people’s bairns.

  Deirdre and Ewan came out of the woods just then, and Gavin found himself scowling at Deirdre. She blanched and took a step back. Ewan looked up and saw Gavin’s dark, twisted face and the way he was glaring at Ewan’s mother. He quickly grabbed her hand and tugged her away in another direction, looking over his shoulder fearfully at his da.

  “God’s blood,” Gavin muttered, anger wanting to explode
from between his clenched teeth.

  “He’ll ne’er abide you hurting her,” Kerr said.

  Gavin rounded on his brother, ready to smash his fist in his face. His head felt tight, hot, and every muscle tensed for action. If they were attacked right now, he would happily wade into a hundred enemy warriors.

  “Is he watching?” he asked, barely reining in the need to shove his foster brother into the creek behind him.

  “Aye. Take a walk, Gavin. Make sure your head’s right before you come back, or you may lose your son forever this time.”

  Gavin met his brother’s gaze, saw the steel there, but also the concern and the compassion. He was in trouble. If there was one thing Kerr knew well, it was a lad’s need to protect his mother—and the hatred that formed in his breast if he failed.

  Deirdre could not stay in Ewan’s life, but how could Gavin get her out?

  Five

  When they crossed the border onto MacKinnon land several days later, with Deirdre and Ewan riding in front of him, Gavin felt an upswelling of exhilaration and joy.

  My son is home!

  He whistled to the men he knew were hidden in the trees and on the ground patrolling his border. A young, agile warrior dropped to the trail in front of them and ran alongside Gavin’s horse.

  “Finn!” Gavin cried out, a smile splitting his face. “Well met, lad.”

  “And you, Laird! You’re home early. We weren’t expecting you for…” Finn’s eyes widened as he took in Ewan. “Is that…is that…”

  “Aye, Finn.” Gavin laughed. “Let everyone know that Ewan is back!”

  Finn let out an excited holler and punched his fist in the air. Other yells and whoops went up around them, and more men dropped down from the trees or appeared to spring up from the ground.

  A huge warrior with a bushy beard that rivaled Clyde’s rose up from where he was hidden in a wee gulley. “Laird!” he yelled, leaves and twigs falling from his plaid as he hurried forward. “You’ve found your son, just like you said you would! Our wee Ewan…returned to us at last. And look at him—so big and braw. Have you fought off any dragons on your trip, lad?”

  Gavin slowed Thor to a walk so Ewan could respond to the big warrior, Artair, who was a favorite of Gavin’s.

  “Aye,” Ewan said. “I fighted a hundred dragons and they had giants on their backs!”

  The men all laughed, Artair’s booming chuckle drowning them out.

  Finn slapped him on the shoulder. “Were they as big as this giant here?” he asked.

  Ewan’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a giant? Was your ma a giant too?”

  “She surely was,” Artair said. “As wide as me and as tall as your horse.”

  “My ma isn’t a giant.” Ewan turned to look up at Deirdre, and Gavin tensed. “Are you, Ma?”

  “Nay, Ewan,” she said softly. “I’m not a giant.”

  The men around them quieted, giving her curious looks. They knew Deirdre was not Ewan’s mother.

  Gavin urged his horse forward and whistled ahead to Clyde.

  The battle-hardened warrior twisted in his saddle and peered at Gavin. “Aye, Laird?”

  “Send Sheamais and Lorne to the castle, so my sister knows we’re coming. Have her prepare the nursery.”

  “Aye, and tell her I’m with them,” Kerr yelled from behind him. “She’ll want to use that mirror of hers to look pretty for me!”

  The men laughed at the jest. They all knew the only thing Isobel used her mirror for was to blind unwary folk. And she needed no primping to look pretty. Isobel was considered a beauty throughout the Highlands. Gavin wanted her to marry Kerr, the only man he knew who could handle her stubborn nature without crushing it, but Isobel was dead set against him. Neither of them knew exactly why, as she’d been sweet on him when she was younger.

  Kerr had his work cut out for him, but if there was one person Gavin knew who was more determined than Isobel, it was his foster brother.

  It was almost dark by the time they passed the village, not too far from the castle. Ewan was asleep in Deirdre’s arms, and she had gotten more and more tense the closer they drew to Gavin’s home. Aye, truth be told, Gavin had too. He’d thought long and hard about what to do with her, and he’d decided he needed to separate her from Ewan as much as possible until he could send her home—starting with nighttime when Ewan wanted to sleep snuggled against her.

  And who wouldnae want to sleep in her arms?

  She had the kind of beauty and manner that drew you in and wouldn’t let go. Like stepping into a hot pool. Warm, lush, soothing—and all-consuming. But he suspected that beneath the luxuriant depths were unseen bubbles of hot mud and simmering geysers, ready to explode at the right provocation. Like when Kerr had pulled her onto his horse or Ewan had almost been trampled by Thor.

  She was a married woman and would be lady of her clan someday—if he didn’t kill her husband first—but it didn’t stop his men from sneaking glances at her whenever they thought they were unobserved.

  Everyone except Kerr, who had taken wholeheartedly to being her cousin. It helped that he had eyes only for Isobel.

  They passed the cathedral that was being built about halfway between the village and his castle on the loch. Deirdre straightened in the saddle as they rode by, shifting Ewan so he stayed sleeping as she turned her head to see its outline against the moonlit sky.

  “What’s that?” she asked, her voice picking up in wonder.

  “My mother’s dream,” he said.

  “A cathedral?”

  “Technically ’tis only a church. Cathedrals are the seat of the bishop, as I’m sure you know. I suspect my mother believed that if she built the grandest church in the area, the bishop would follow. She commissioned work on it a few years before she died. It willna be finished for many years.”

  “How wonderful,” she sighed.

  “Are you devout, then?” he asked.

  “No more than most, but I’ve seen drawings of the great cathedrals in Rome and Paris. They are a sight to behold.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll be able to see them in person.”

  “Maybe. But I’d travel in a wagon. I’m done with horses.”

  “’Tis because you haven’t ridden on your own, galloping to freedom. The first time you do that, you’ll ne’er want to ride in a wagon again.”

  “I’d end up broken on the ground. If you weren’t holding me up, I’d fall.”

  “Nay. You’re stronger than you think.”

  “Maybe,” she said quietly.

  She settled against him again. Everyone seemed subdued now that the initial jubilation was over, including Kerr, who’d kept up a lively banter most of the way there.

  The lights at the castle were ablaze, and as they neared, he saw the portcullis was open. He whistled again, softly, and this time Clyde rode back to them.

  “Laird?”

  “Ride ahead and tell them to keep quiet,” Gavin said. “I doona want to wake the bairn.”

  He meant to start how he intended to go. Ewan in the nursery at night, Deirdre in a guest chamber. His nursemaid would be there if he awoke, and she could put the child back to sleep. Or call Gavin, if she needed help.

  Gavin still hadn’t slept much, even though he’d gotten his son back. Maybe that would change once Ewan was safe in the castle nursery.

  He knew there would be much talk about Ewan and speculation about Deirdre, and once Gavin knew the truth, he would tell his clan what had happened. They deserved to know, if they were going to war against the MacIntyres and their allies. That list included the MacColls—Deirdre’s birth clan, although she didn’t seem to have anything to do with them.

  But for now, he just wanted to get them into the castle without any upset.

  After they passed under the portcullis, the iron grill shut behind them. When they stepp
ed into the bailey, it was filled with whispering people craning to see Gavin’s sleeping lad. Their faces lit up with happiness, many cheeks wet with tears.

  Highlanders were a stoic lot, but in this instance, the floodgates had opened—Ewan, the wee lad they all loved, had been returned to them!

  Gavin’s own emotions surged, and he raised a silent hand of greeting and thanks to his clan as he rode through the crowd—mostly castle folk and warriors not on patrol at this time of night.

  On the other side of the crowded clearing, his home loomed. MacKinnon castle was large and impressive, even to his own eyes. They were a prosperous clan with good management the last few decades due to the guidance of a smart, honest steward, Gregor MacLeod’s guidance, and a father who’d listened to both.

  As he neared the steps leading up to the great hall, Gavin’s eyes fell on his sister, Isobel. She stood halfway down the stairs, one hand pressed over her heart, the other covering her mouth, and her face crumpled with tearful disbelief and happiness. Her bright blond hair hung loose down her back, and he heard Deirdre suck in an awed breath—at the same time Kerr, who rode beside him, sighed.

  Aye, Isobel was a sight to behold. Tall and willowy, with Gavin’s blue-green eyes and the face of an angel. Not that she behaved like one. Nay, as much as she loved him, and he suspected loved Kerr as well, she could be downright disagreeable, fighting with them over every wee thing.

  Although Kerr did seem to go out of his way to rile her. On purpose.

  She raced down the stairs, eyes jumping from him to Deirdre, to Ewan. “Is it really him?” she asked, her voice shaking. Gavin turned Thor just enough so that she could see Ewan clearly, sound asleep on Deirdre’s shoulder.

  Isobel moved between the two horses and lifted her hand to stroke her nephew’s hair. A sound escaped her throat, halfway between a sigh and a sob, and she leaned back against Kerr’s horse with tears streaming down her face. Kerr lowered his hand to her shoulder and squeezed. She raised her hand and grasped his fingers.