Highland Captive

by Alyson McLayne

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take liberties.” He pulled Ewan the rest of the way into his arms and stepped back. “Have a good sleep, Deirdre.” Then he disappeared into his room with her son. A moment later, she heard the bar slide across the door. She released the air that she’d been holding in a loud whoosh and sagged against the jamb.

  Did he actually say, Have a good sleep?

  She almost laughed. No way in hell will I be able to fall asleep now.

  Eleven

  “Mama,” Ewan whispered into her ear.

  Deirdre opened her eyes slowly and stared into Ewan’s bright, blue-green gaze. She smiled and reached to pull her son into her embrace, his head on the pillow beside her as he snuggled in.

  She’d kicked off the covers in her sleep, and her shift had rucked up to her thighs. The room had finally cooled down after the fire she’d built last night, the breeze from the open window nice against her skin.

  If only it had been like this after she’d given Ewan to Gavin.

  When she’d come back into her room, the heat had been sweltering. She’d been tempted to strip and lay with her arms and legs spread on the bed, burning on the inside as well as out from the way Gavin had looked at her. She hadn’t, because she hadn’t wanted to bar the door in case Ewan wanted to come in during the night.

  Anyone else could have come in too. And maybe she’d been hoping someone would.

  She heard a sound and shifted her gaze to see her bedchamber door closing. Her heart jumped, and she sat up quickly, pulling the covers over Ewan and herself.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “Da. He telled me not to come in here, but I knew you’d be awake. I telled him you ne’er barred your door. He didn’t believe me.”

  Deirdre flushed hot again. So he’d seen her then, sleeping without covers, with her shift pulled up and the tie loosened at the top. She almost ran to bar the door now, but what was the point? She’d already been exposed. She wiped at her mouth, worried suddenly that she’d been drooling. How much of her body had he seen? She’d been on her side, so her breasts would have been squashed together and pushed out of her top.

  Embarrassment invaded every inch of her. She felt fleshy and ungainly. It was one thing to be completely covered by her shift in the hallway, another to be seen lying awkwardly on the bed.

  Doona run, Deirdre. Everything jiggles. Her brother’s jest reverberated in her head, alongside her sisters’ laughter. She’d been twelve when they’d taunted her that time, and she’d wanted to hide under the bed, hating everything about her awkward body. No one in her family looked like her. Her older sisters were all shaped like their mother—tall and slender. They’d made her try on their silk dresses in the European style just so they could laugh when she tried to squeeze herself into the confining material.

  Her tutor and nursemaids said to pay them no mind. That they were being cruel only because they were jealous.

  A year later, her brother hadn’t been laughing anymore. Her stomach sickened just thinking about him. If there was anyone in this world she would happily wish dead, it was Boyd.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Isobel stuck her head in, then pushed all the way in when she saw they were awake. “Gavin’s headed to the stables already, but I’m starving, and Bonni said she’ll make a feast. Come eat with me.” Then she whispered, “And I doona want to sit there alone with Kerr. He’s been more annoying than usual. I swear, everything he says is intended to irritate me.”

  “What’s annoying mean?” Ewan asked her.

  “It’s when a wasp keeps buzzing around your head, but when you try to swat it away, it keeps coming back,” Isobel explained.

  Deirdre bit her lip to stop from smiling. She had the feeling that would come back to haunt Isobel someday. Ewan had started jumping on the bed, and she grasped his arm to stop him. “Go with Aunt Isobel. I’ll be down as soon as I’ve washed up.”

  Ewan leapt to the ground, making the same crashing sound as yesterday when he landed. His new favorite sound, obviously. Then he stuck out his arms and ran for the door. “Aunt Isobel, I’m a wasp! Try to swat me!”

  Isobel held the door open wide for him so he could run through. “Hurry,” she said to Deirdre, before she closed the door behind her. Deirdre could hear her chasing Ewan down the passageway.

  She would wager Isobel’s body didn’t jiggle as she ran. Nay, she was even slimmer than Deirdre’s sisters and mother.

  But…a few days ago she’d spoken enviously about Deirdre’s curves and disparagingly about her own lack of them. Maybe…maybe neither she nor Isobel were correct?

  Didn’t she try to teach Ewan that there was beauty in all the different shapes in Nature?

  She’d challenged many of the other false beliefs her family had instilled in her. Maybe it was time she challenged this one too.

  Deirdre threw back the covers and rose from the bed, moving to stand where she had some space. Closing her eyes, she raised her arms out to the sides and tried to feel her body around her bones—not with her hands, just her mind, sinking down inside and feeling it. The muscles that moved her and allowed her to run with Ewan. The heart that let her love, and the mind that enabled her to think.

  She put her hands on her shoulders and was about to run her palms down the shape of her body—and try not to hate everything about it—when the door clicked.

  She let out a little shriek and opened her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Isobel asked. “I knew you’d be dawdling.” She looked closely at Deirdre. “You look guilty. Were you exercising?”

  “Why would I feel guilty about exercising?”

  “Because I told you to hurry.” Isobel stepped closer, interest growing in her eyes. “Is this what you do every morning? Your secret for”—she waved her hand in a circular motion toward Deirdre—“all that?”

  “Nay. And I’m not exercising, I’m…I’m…” She didn’t know how to put into words what she’d been doing, and a blush stole up her cheeks.

  Isobel stared at her, fascinated, and then her eyes grew round, and she turned a fiery red. “Lord have mercy,” she said, and she ran to shut the door and slide the bar across. “Doona you know to always bar the door before you do that?!”

  “I wasn’t doing that!” Deirdre’s warm cheeks suddenly burned as hot as Isobel’s face was red. “I was…I was…trying to love my body.”

  Her friend’s eyebrows rose. “’Tis the same thing, is it not?”

  “I doona think so. But you should try it.”

  “I should?”

  “Aye.” Deirdre felt her words bubble out as her excitement begin to rise. “I was told terrible things about my body by my mother and siblings when I was younger, cruel things that were meant to wound, that have ne’er gone away.

  “And then you said that I was shaped like a siren. And even though that’s a horrible thing to say—I would ne’er want to drown some poor, unsuspecting sailor—you meant it as a compliment. You, who are everything I’ve always wanted to be—tall and slender and fair. And yet you speak about my shape with envy.”

  She rushed forward, took Isobel’s hand and pulled her into the middle of the room where Deirdre had stood alone just a moment before. “And what is even more incredible to me is that you doona like your shape any more than I like mine. We envy each other, and how pointless is that?”

  “About as pointless as us standing in the middle of the room talking about it?”

  “Aye, so let’s do something about it.”

  “Is this where we switch bodies?” Isobel asked. “Because I’m fairly certain that willna work.”

  “Nay. This is where we love ourselves. Together. Close your eyes.” Deirdre did as she’d directed Isobel and then thought about what to do next. “We should run our hands o’er our bodies, and while we do it, think about how much
we love them.”

  “We’re to touch our own bodies and not each other’s, correct?”

  “Of course!” Her eyes flew open, and she could see Isobel’s teasing grin as she made gentle fun. Deirdre couldn’t help grinning back at her. She closed her eyes again. “On the count of three, then. One…two…”

  “Um, Deirdre?”

  “Aye?”

  “I’ll be at my feet before you even get o’er your breasts.”

  Deirdre snorted, tried to contain her amusement, but couldn’t hold back the puff of laughter that burst from her chest. Her very large chest. “If only those poor sailors had known my breasts would float.”

  Isobel burst into laughter and Deirdre followed right behind. She tried to catch her breath, but the more Isobel laughed the more she laughed too. When Isobel leaned on the corner post of Deirdre’s bed then turned and collapsed backward on the mattress, her belly heaving, Deirdre did the same.

  “Your own God-given raft,” Isobel said. “Did you know I canna swim? Nay—I start sinking right way and I panic. I’m so skinny, I canna keep myself up.”

  “Have you tried moving your arms and legs?”

  “Oh, is that how it’s done? How did I e’er survive without you?”

  “By not going in the water, apparently.”

  “Well, I will now that I know you can jump right in and save me.” She pointed to Deirdre’s breasts, and they laughed again.

  It was a few minutes before they managed to calm down, but then one of them would snicker or giggle and set the other one off again. When a loud pounding at the door interrupted their hilarity, they quieted down to the occasional snort.

  “What’s going on in there?” Kerr demanded through the door. “God’s blood, I can hear you all the way to the end of the passageway. Poor Ewan is the only one downstairs eating, and he’s eyeing those bloody knives again.”

  “We’re having a glorious time in here without you—”

  “The knives?!” Deirdre shrieked, cutting off whatever else Isobel had been about to say to annoy Kerr. As much as Kerr was guilty of saying things to irritate Isobel, Isobel was just as guilty of the same thing.

  She supposed that’s what happened when two people who should be together weren’t. If they couldn’t love each other, then they would passionately fight each other.

  Deirdre jumped up and dragged Isobel to the door. When she opened it, she stayed hidden behind it so Kerr wouldn’t see her state of undress. He glanced inside curiously.

  “Go!” she said to Isobel as she pushed her through the opening. “And look after Ewan while I dress.”

  “Aye. But make sure you actually get dressed this time!” Isobel shook her finger in Deirdre’s face, who glared at the offending digit.

  “Do you know what I do to tall, skinny lasses who shake their finger in my face?” she asked.

  “Toss them in the loch?”

  “Aye. And I doona jump in after them.”

  “You’re both bloody batty this morning! What are you talking about?” Kerr asked, his face creased in confusion.

  “About sirens,” Isobel said. “And drowning sailors.” She turned and headed toward the stairs. “Doona get involved, Kerr. Or she’ll drag you in there too and have you touching yourself in no time.”

  “What?” he roared.

  Deirdre burst out laughing and quickly shut and barred the door. ’Twas Isobel’s problem now. Exactly how she wanted it, no matter what she might have said.

  * * *

  Deirdre held her hand over her forehead, shading her eyes from the midmorning sun, and peered toward the village. She, Gavin, Ewan, and their guard had just passed the cathedral, and she was hoping the settlement would be closer than she remembered.

  When it came into view, she sighed. They were only about halfway there.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to visit the center of Clan MacKinnon, it’s just that she didn’t want to ride there on the back of a horse, especially by herself.

  Her mount was a small, sedate mare this time, not nearly as tall as Gavin’s ride, but the beast could still decide to take off at a gallop—with her on it—no matter that Gavin had assured her the female would stay close to Thor.

  Ewan was on a pony, which was good, as he’d already fallen off—twice. She’d wanted to get mad at Gavin for it, but their son had jumped up unhurt both times and climbed back onto his ride, who’d just stood there munching grass. Ewan had named him Horsey, and the placid pony didn’t even twitch his ears when the lad jabbed a foot here, an elbow there, or generally bounced around, pretending a wave of warriors were attacking them.

  “Are you afraid Ewan’s horse will run off?” she asked, noting the long lead between Horsey and Thor. It was the first time she’d spoken since they’d left the castle, other than to make embarrassing squawking sounds every time her mare adjusted her gait or even moved her head. The mare also snorted a lot, which scared Deirdre, but less than it used to—thanks to her long days traveling on Thor.

  “First of all, he’s a pony, not a horse,” Gavin said, “despite what our son decided to name him.” She couldn’t see his face, but from his tone of voice, she suspected he’d rolled his eyes. “And second of all, the fear was not that he’d run off but that he wouldn’t move at all if we didn’t make him.”

  Alarm raced through her. “So you’re forcing him? Will he get mad and try to bite Ewan?”

  This time it wasn’t her horse that snorted. It was Gavin. “Aye, we’re forcing him. He’s fat and lazy and likes to graze all day. And nay, he willna bite, even if Ewan sticks his hand in his mouth. Which I wouldnae be surprised to see him do.”

  Deirdre’s eyes widened, then she shouted, “Ewan, doona put your hands in Horsey’s mouth!”

  Gavin did roll his eyes this time. “Well, if he hadn’t thought of doing it before, he will now.”

  Deirdre bit her lip. He was right. So did she tell Ewan again, to make it clear, or hope that—as was often the case—he hadn’t really been listening to her?

  “Gah!” she said, undecided, then yelped when her mare tossed her head and sped up a wee bit to get closer to Thor.

  Gavin looked over at her a little bemusedly. “I canna believe that, for such a smart lass, you are so uneducated about horses.”

  His criticism stung. Hurt whirled through her, stronger than the powerful urge to defend herself. Her jaw tightened, and she dropped her eyes instead.

  “Och, lass. I’m sorry,” Gavin said. “Doona do that. Please. ’Twas a thoughtless thing for me to say.”

  “Do what?” she asked, curiosity bringing her gaze up.

  “Lower your eyes. I’d prefer you to yell at me and tell me I’m an insensitive ass than lose confidence in yourself.”

  Her cheeks bloomed with warmth. And now she wanted to drop her eyes again, but this time out of embarrassment. She did—for a moment—but then she looked directly at him and said, “You’re an ass.”

  And he smiled. It was his first real smile this morning, and her heart kicked.

  “I know,” he said.

  “And just so you know, I’m not uneducated about horses. I’ve read books about them.”

  His eyes twinkled, and she knew he was laughing at her, but now it didn’t feel like a slap in the face. “Just so you know, sweetling, reading about horses does not mean you know anything about them. The only way you learn about horses is to ride them, care for them, and train them yourself.”

  “Is that why you have Ewan riding his own horse already?”

  “It’s a pony, not a horse. Which you should have learned from at least one of your many books.”

  “So…a pony’s not just a baby horse?” Deirdre asked innocently.

  She already knew the answer, but it was worth asking just to see the disbelieving look on his face. “Nay! A pony is not a baby horse. A foal
is a baby horse. A pony is a pony. Just like a donkey is a donkey and a dog is a dog.”

  When she snickered, his eyes jumped to hers. He grinned and nodded his head. “Well, at least your education taught you something.”

  They continued in silence for a few more minutes before he said, “And why weren’t you taught how to ride? Did your father not believe it was a suitable pastime for a lady?”

  Her stomach clenched, and this time when she dropped her eyes, she couldn’t raise them for anything. This wound went too deep to be dismissed so easily, and she knew her face would show her pain, her humiliation—and reveal how young and scared and vulnerable she’d once been.

  How much she still was.

  “Nay. My mother rode. And my sisters.”

  She didn’t say anything else, hoping he’d just drop it. But he wouldn’t be Gavin if he didn’t keep on pushing her to her limit. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d leaned across their horses until his fingers nudged up her chin.

  “I willna judge you, Deirdre. You can tell me what happened.”

  She briefly shook her head and dislodged his fingers. He sat back with a concerned sigh. “Aye, lass. Another time. ’Tis important I speak to you about something else anyway.”

  She jumped her gaze to his as alarm rang through her body. “What is it?”

  “Naught to do with Ewan. Well, not in that way.”

  “Something I’ve done, then? If it has to do with Kerr, Isobel and I were only teasing.”

  He glanced sideways at her. “What did the two of you do?”

  It would sound ridiculous and lewd—and most uncouth—if she told him about this morning. “I canna explain, and it was Isobel who said it anyway. You can ask her.”

  He grunted and then ran his palm over his jaw. “This is about…when Ewan calls for you at night. I think it would be better if…”

  Her brow creased in confusion. She had never seen Gavin so lost for words. Or so flustered. “You doona want Ewan to sleep with me at night anymore? Is that it?” She would miss her son, and it would be a struggle, for sure, but if this was something Gavin insisted on, she could make it work. He’d made so many adjustments for her, she could do this for him. Especially now, as Ewan was settled in his new home and could sleep with Gavin or Annag if he needed a nighttime cuddle.