Unfortunately for that man, he happened to be one of the survivors, and when Jillian came to and identified him, Graeme skewered him and left him to bleed out painfully. An angry wound ran down the side of her left face, and although no one would say it out loud, it would scar horrendously.
“Don’t ye start laying on the guilt,” Agnes sighed. “Ye did what ye had to do to escape.”
“We knew there was a chance of infection.” Tears filled Jillian’s eyes. “I just hoped I could remove it in time. In the end, I failed. I couldnae warn the patrols, and now Gemma is suffering.”
“The fires warned the patrols, and ye all escaped with yer lives,” Theo said gruffly. “What ye did was courageous and clever, and Gemma will pull through this. She is strong.”
There was a cough from the bed. “Well, it’s about time you admitted it,” Gemma said weakly.
Instantly on his feet, he was leaning over the bed and smoothing his hand over her forehead. Dry and cool to the touch. Her fever had broken.
Knees weak, he fell to the side of the bed and nearly wept. “Gemma, I am so sorry.”
“Save yer apologies for after,” Agnes commanded. “Lass, go and get Lorna. We need to examine her. “
She tried to push Theo out of the way, and he growled. Planting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Now look, I put up with yer angry grunts and threats before, but now she is awake. Go, eat, and at least bathe or ye will make her pass out all over again.”
He hesitated, but Gemma gave him a gentle smile and nodded. “I will be here when you get back. I am not going anywhere.”
Kissing her on the top of her head, he wanted desperately to tell her that he loved her, but Agnes was all but pushing him out the door.
With renewed energy, he headed to the patrol stations to give Hamish an update and went to the loch to bathe. He hadn’t bathed since the battle, so it was a wonder that Agnes let him stay at all.
Hamish brought him a change of clothes, and when Theo was dressed, Hamish grabbed his arm to stop him. “Listen to me, Brother,” he said in a low voice. “Ye gathered the most powerful clans in the Highlands to rescue yer wife and protect a small village. Ye fought for yer people and those ye love, and ye have sat faithfully by yer wife’s bed for three days while she recovered. If I ever hear that ye are wondering if ye are like our father, I will come back and beat ye senseless.”
Relief swept through him and a smile spread across Theo’s face as he pulled Hamish in and hugged him fiercely. “Thank ye.”
“Any time, Brother. Now go and tell yer wife that ye love her before her friends convince her to stay.” When Theo snapped his head up, Hamish grinned. “They arenae willing to let her go unless they know that ye will never let her go again. They seem a fierce bunch. I am relieved that they are yer people and not mine.”
With a snort, Theo turned and stormed back to the cottage. Keep his wife from him? He would see about that.
As the small building came into view, he stopped short. A line had formed outside Gemma’s home, a line of people eager to see that she had indeed recovered and was all right. These were the people who had picked up anything that could be used as a weapon and risked their lives to get her back. These people loved her, and Theo knew it from their actions.
Guilt filled him. The line eased back as he entered the cottage and gestured for a word with Lorna while the guests continued to move in, under the watchful eye of Agnes, to say their hellos. Gemma was propped up on the bed and slowly eating some broth.
“How is she?”
“The wound is starting to heal, and her fever has broken, so I’m confident that there will be nothing else to worry about. As for the babe, it will still be a few weeks before we see any progress, but I am optimistic.” She glanced behind her. “Do ye wish me to disperse the crowd?”
“Nay. She will be happy to see them.”
Nodding to the visitors, he sat on the bed by Gemma’s side and put an arm around her shoulder. She gave him a shy smile and sipped at her broth while she thanked a boy for visiting. It felt like it took forever, people filing in while Theo reminded Gemma that she was to be eating.
Finally, they were alone.
“I’m sorry,” Gemma said as tears welled in her eyes. “I never wanted to put our child at risk, but I didn’t know what Thomas would do. I knew you were coming for me, but the mercenaries were planning to betray Thomas and attack the Loch, and—”
“Gemma.” Gently, he pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “Ye have nothing to apologize for. ‘Tis me who needs to be on my knees begging for yer forgiveness. Ye should have been by my side, protected at the keep, and instead, I sent ye here. I let my fears get the best of me, and I drove ye to real danger. When ye are ready, ye will return with me immediately to the keep, and this will never happen again.”
“Theo.” Slowly, she extricated from his arms and pulled the blankets up over him. “I don’t think I can do that.”
His heart stopped. “What?”
“I know you are going to yell and be upset, but this is my home. These people took care of me when no one else did, and I want this child to grow up knowing that kind of love. I don’t want him or her to be at the keep and see you all the time and wonder why you don’t love them.” Tears spilled over her cheeks. “I know that the mountains will run red with your fury if anyone tries something like this again, but I need more than that.”
“Gemma.” Dropping to the floor, he put his head on her lap. “I want you to be happy. If that means we live here, I will find a way to make it work. Just know that wherever we are, I will love you and I will love this child. I am not my father. I know that now. I want to be there when this child is born. I want to hold them in the middle of the night when they cry because they’re scared, and toss them up in the air until they are overcome with laughter.”
“Theo,” Gemma whispered.
“The minute I let ye go, I knew I had made a mistake. I should have gone after ye then, and I will regret that for the rest of my life. Forgive me, Gemma, and let me spend the rest of my life loving ye and our family.”
The empty bowl fell to the floor as she launched herself at him. He caught her easily and sat back on the bed, cradling her against his chest. “I love you,” she whispered. “And we will have a wonderful family and watch over the MacDougals from the keep. It is where you belong, but we will visit here often.”
“And ye will be happy?”
“Oh, Theo. With you, I will always be happy.”
28
One year later
* * *
The Great Hall was so full that people were standing along the wall to eat and be involved. Gemma and Theo were running late since baby Hamish decided to be fussy. Theo had gone from the man who was afraid to be near his child to the father who didn’t want to let anyone else be near his child. Most of the women in the village were more than happy to act as nannies, but Theo found it hard to delegate when it came to his son.
It brought tears to Gemma’s eyes to sneak into the nursery and see Theo holding his child after a long day of working in the village. Baby Hamish didn’t seem to mind that his father was often covered in mud and sweat. He cooed and giggled anyway.
Stopping short of opening the doors, Theo surprised Gemma by suddenly pulling her into his arms. She flowed easily to him and closed her eyes as he held her. “We may have to expand the Great Hall,” he said in a low voice.
Yes, they would. Over the past year, Theo had sent out scouts across the Highlands to find those he’d rescued and invite them back. More than half returned, some with families in tow. Many of those families who were not so lucky listened to Theo’s heartfelt apology and forgave him.
It had been a long and emotional process as Theo tried to connect to each family. He’d been so certain that the only way he could effectively run the clan was from a distance.
“I am so proud of you,” Gemma whispered as she pulled back just far en
ough to run her hands over his face.
“I couldnae have done any of this without ye, Gemma. Ye saved me, and I didnae even know that I was drowning.”
“We saved each other, Theo.” Lord, did she love this man. Cradling his face, she kissed him softly and smiled at the heat in his eyes. With the clan expanding and the baby, there had been little time for each other. She had a feeling that tonight they were going to remedy that.
“Come. We best go before there is no food left.”
As soon as they opened the doors, everyone rose in respect and grinned as they bowed their heads. The walls were lined with guards. Theo had trouble with trusting anyone new after Thomas’s betrayal, but he’d put it all behind him now. He was respected and beloved, and he gave his men the same respect in return.
Gemma missed the loch. She’d made only one trip since the babe was born, but some of the residents had taken time to visit her as well. Theo had some men rotating between the two patrols, but a handful of guards had opted to settle down on the loch, and the residents welcomed them with open arms. Thanks to the rich recourses, both villages were flourishing, and everyone knew that Theo would do whatever it took to keep them safe.
The villainy of Patrick MacDougal still remained, but his death seemed to have broken the hold he had on the people. Theo, on the other hand, rarely spoke to Gemma about killing his own father, but she’d accidentally snuck up on him while he was in the nursery, and listened in on the tale he was telling his son.
“Some men rule through fear and violence. Yer grandfather wanted absolute power, but that is not the MacDougal way. Through the alliances we have forged, ye will see what it means to lead people. I myself am still learning, and will continue to learn, but this I know well: a good leader is protective, loyal, fair, and loving—and in return, the people will be the same.”
He was truly moving on, and there was nothing Gemma wanted more for him.
As Theo sat down, one of the villagers who’d been relocated clapped Theo on the back. “How did ye get yerself such a lovely wife?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Hard work.”
Gemma rolled her eyes and took her seat. “Actually, he handed me a letter that my neighbors had forged pretending to be Fletcher MacSeaver and telling me that I was to be sent to him to wed. He pointed out that I didn’t have much of a choice, even though he knew the letter wasn’t real.”
The table fell silent, and Theo turned and stared at her. “Ye knew?”
“Not at first, but it wasn’t hard for me to figure it out,” she said mildly as she buttered her roll. “So the answer to your question, sir, is that he married me through trickery, but he won my heart fair and square.”
The table laughed, and Theo studied her, a look of concern on his face, but she handed him the roll and patted his thigh. “Do not worry, Husband. I haven’t finished my devious plan to get even, but when I do, you will have nothing to feel guilty about.”
His eyes widened in horror. “What exactly does this plan entail?”
Leaning close, she kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Having a handful of girls just like me should do it, don’t you think?”
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Highlands’ Deceptive Lovers
Book #1
Highlander’s Beautiful Liar
Book #2
Highlander’s Moonlight Seduction
Book #3
Highlander’s Hellion Bride
Book #4
Highlander’s Lesser Evil (This book)
Prologue
The golden sun was rising in the sky. Birds sang and animals roamed about the fields of the forest, happy to forage for their meals and frolic with their families.
But the previous afternoon, a thunderous rumble had made the ground shake...
It was as loud as a storm, but the sky was still clear. A few wispy clouds hung against the sapphire canvas, witness to the carnage that was about to take place below. The peace of the forest was shattered as two angry clans met in battle. Armies made of hardened warriors and ruthless men were clashing. The air thrummed with the angry song of steel crashing against steel. Arrows whipped through the air. Axes were driven through armor and flesh. Bones cracked and death howls rose through the air as scarlet blood flowed as deep as a river across the green grass.
The men were all Highlanders, members of the Frasier and McClearey clans. These two clans had been mortal enemies for generations. While there had been bouts of peace over the years, it was only ever fleeting. Hostilities always erupted again and battles were fought, wars were waged, and there was only ever enough time to heal the wounds before something happened to inspire hatred again.
The Frasier clan was led by Malcolm, a fierce warrior with red hair and a flaming beard. His eyes blazed with anger and he spoke in a booming voice that made the walls of his castle rattle. He was a tall man, said to have the blood of giants in his ancestry, just like his father before him and his sons after him. He had taken up the mantle of war from his father and in battle he was like a raging tempest, whirling with his great war hammer, sending men flying as he caved in their chests. The force of his war cry was enough to inspire his men to even greater heights of bravery and they charged in around him, ready to give their lives for their charismatic leader.
On the other side was Bryn McClearey, a man who was more on the slender build. He had spent most of his life out in the forest, running with the wolves and hunting his prey. His mind was a tactical one and he had a reputation for being shrewd on the battlefield. He fought not just for honor, but for his family too, especially his eldest daughter Caitlin. His eyes were always darting about, looking for an opportunity to strike and prey on his enemy’s weakness. He wielded his sword gracefully, moving about the battlefield as though he was dancing. There was a brutal elegance as he made his way through the enemy troops, slashing and slicing at them, leaving a sea of blood in his wake. Blood and thunder raged in their minds as they both urged on their troops, but everyone else was collateral damage.
They wanted each other.
The rhythm of the battle shifted. It was impossible for Bryn to not know where Malcolm was, as the huge man stood out amongst the rest. His biceps glistened with sweat as he whirled his war hammer around. Bryn winced as he heard the crunch of bones breaking and a haughty laugh. He saw his troops run around and flank the onrushing enemy. It was as though they were trying to hold back the tide, and while he had confidence in his men, Bryn knew that the quickest way to end the fight was to end the threat posed by Malcolm.
Bryn used the bodies of the Highlanders as a shield. He shifted and dodged around the dancing soldiers as he made his way closer to Malcolm. Blood dripped from his sword and the smell of battle made him want to retch, but he quelled the urge and continued on his way, never taking his eyes off Malcolm.
The leader of the Frasier clan was hollering uproariously as he threw himself into the battle. There was nothing he enjoyed more than throwing himself into the heat of war and testing his strength and mettle against his foes. One by one they all charged at him, and one by one they all fell back. He strode forward, marching over a sea of dead bodies, his mighty hammer swinging like a pendulum, dealing mortal wounds to all who met it. But Malcolm’s eyes were always drifting across the battlefield, trying to find his equal—the man named Bryn. He was as wily as a fox, and Malcolm knew that he would have some plan to try and gain the upper hand. He squinted as he looked through the swirling morass of bodies, but Bryn did not appear to be anywh
ere.
Malcolm wasn’t going to let that worry him though. He continued his devastating destruction and waited for Bryn to come to him.
Eventually, the blade of a sword flashed and Malcolm turned around. Bryn had managed to sneak around and kill the two men on Malcolm’s right-hand side. The blade had caught the sun and Malcolm moved with surprising agility, evading the strike. He swung his hammer back, a low strike that aimed to sweep Bryn off his feet. Bryn hopped over it and Malcolm cursed. The two men glared at each other. Bryn’s hair fluttered as it caught the breeze, while Malcolm’s was tied into a tight ponytail. Bryn held his sword tightly and his entire body was rigid with tension, poised to strike at any moment. Malcolm was more relaxed but still wary. Bryn was more dangerous than he appeared.
“I wondered when ye’d creep up on me,” Malcolm sneered. “Are ye always gaeing tae move like a ghoul creeping through a courtyard or are ye gaeing tae face me like a man?”
“We must take advantages where we can find them,” Bryn replied quickly, his mouth twisting into a smirk, “but dae ye want tae talk or dae ye want tae fight?” His words were met with swift action as he struck powerfully, trying to thrust through Malcolm’s defenses while the man was not on guard. The blade gleamed as it struck through the air and it would have pierced Malcolm in the middle of his stomach had he not stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade. Bryn cursed and scowled as Malcolm retaliated. Instead of swinging his hammer, he thrust it forward like a battering ram. Bryn hopped back as Malcolm charged. If there wasn’t so much hostility and fury in the air it would have been quite a comedic sight to see these two warriors chasing each other. Bryn was on the back foot and kept twisting his neck back to glance behind him, making sure that he wasn’t going to lose his footing. An arrow sailed through the air and landed by the two men. Malcolm’s eyes blazed with anger. Bryn was shocked by the arrow and his attention was stolen. He failed to see the trailing leg of a dead man, and stumbled, falling to the soft ground. He yelped as Malcolm roared and lifted the hammer above his head. One strike and it would all be over. Bryn could almost feel the weight of the hammer coming down upon his chest.
Highlander’s Lesser Evil: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Highlands' Deceptive Lovers Book 4) Page 17
