A Highlander’s Homecoming (12 page)

She nodded, her eyes watery with the tears she held back.

Her current visage would only add strength to support his claim.

“Come with me.” Releasing her hair, he grasped her upper arm, dragging her out the door, to the stairs and down, not slowing his stride until they reached the closed door of the laird’s solar.

“What . . . what are you going to—”

“Be still!” he hissed, stopping her question with a squeeze to her arm that brought yet another round of whimpers. “And dinna disappoint me by forgetting what I’ve told you.”

After a short pause to ready himself to play the outraged father, he threw open the door.

“Fifteen years of faithful service to my laird and this is my reward?”

He shoved Agneys to the floor, where she fell in a silently weeping heap. Very nicely done, he had to admit.

Randulf’s head had snapped up at their entrance, his eyes red rimmed with age and worry.

“What outrage is this?” the old man demanded.

“Outrage indeed,” Roland snarled. “The lass has all but taken to her bed, unable to hold down the food she eats. She is with child. Your child.”

To his credit, MacGahan wasted no time in denials, though his mouth tightened to a hard, straight line and a flush of color stained his face.

“You’ve no a call to fash yerself over this. Agneys will be well cared for.”

“Well cared for,” Roland scoffed. Her care was of little interest to him. Only her ability to produce a son for their laird mattered. “She carries the MacGahan heir in her belly.”

Randulf crossed his arms, lifting his chin as he did so. “How am I to be sure the child she carries is mine?”

The question Roland had expected from the beginning. The one he had prepared to answer the moment he had stepped into the hallway on his way here.

“You took her maidenhood!” he shouted. “She’s been with no one but her laird. She even thinks herself in love with you. You’ve taken my only daughter to bed. Now you must take her to wife.”

Randulf’s shoulders sagged and for a moment Roland almost felt pity for the old man, his only defense
stripped away by a night spent so drunk he could barely remember it.

“Agreed. We will handfast on the . . .”

“No!” Handfasting would not suit Roland’s purposes at all. He wanted the joining held in front of as many people as possible. A joining that could never be questioned or doubted. “My daughter deserves a formal marriage. In the presence of clergy.”

Randulf crossed to where Agneys still huddled on the floor and held out a hand, assisting her to her feet. “Is this your wish, Agneys?”

“It is as my father says, my laird.”

“Very well, Roland.” The old man continued to gaze at the girl as he spoke. “I leave the arrangements to yer hand.”

Roland bowed his head, hoping to leave the impression that he was mollified by his laird’s decision.

In truth, he was quite satisfied. MacGahan’s predictability, in some things at least, rivaled that of the sun and the moon. Counting on the old man’s pride, Roland had sent a rider to summon the clergyman from Urquhart two days ago. The arrangements the old laird had left to him were already made.

Now he had only to deal with MacDowylt. And, of course, Isabella.

Chapter 10
 

The
thwack
of the great hammer resonated up through Robert’s arms, jolting his muscles to life. Once again he raised the heavy tool over his head and smashed it down onto the wood, driving the stake farther into the damp ground.

Physical labor was exactly what he had needed this day. He had to find some way to keep better hold over himself than he’d managed to demonstrate so far.

As the rains outside had gentled to a fine mist, he and Isa had talked long into the early morning hours. At first she had wanted to know about her father, but soon she was asking questions about his own life. The battles he’d fought, his family, his home—she’d wanted to hear it all.

He had wanted to know everything about her life, hoping by some small miracle he could ease his sense of guilt at having abandoned her for so long.

The longer they’d talked, the more they’d shared, the more comfortable he’d felt, as if they had known one another forever.

It seemed insanity now, in the bright light of a new day, but last night he’d come close to telling her all his secrets as they’d sat together by the fire. In truth, perhaps the only thing preventing his having done exactly that was her dozing off to sleep, her head pillowed against his arm.

He could easily have carried her to her bed and gone back to the stable as he’d planned, but he hadn’t. Instead he’d selfishly settled her against his body, enjoying the feel of her in his arms as he tried to catch an hour or two of sleep leaning against the hard stone wall.

The men he worked with always did say he could fall asleep anywhere. It seems he’d at last found the situation that proved them wrong.

As soon as the sun had risen, he’d slipped out, with every intention of keeping himself too busy to think of anything but how to convince Isa to leave this place before it was too late.

She’d spoken last night of readying her garden and of her ongoing battle with the small animals that raided her vegetables each season. Stepping out into the sunny morning, he’d decided that building a fence would be a logical use of his time.

Not that he intended for her to be here long enough to make use of that garden. All the same, it would keep him occupied and away from Isa, and considering he’d already discovered that being near her was taking more self-control than he’d imagined, his plan seemed wise.
It had required almost superhuman effort to drag his eyes from her as she’d gone about her morning chores.

Enough of this!

With another great swing of the hammer, he finished placing the final post. He stepped back to inspect what he’d accomplished and his upper arm began to tingle as if something brushed across his skin.

“I’m sure yer hungry after all yer hard work.”

Robert whirled around to find Isa carrying two hollowed-out bread bowls filled with a thick, steaming porridge.

“I dinna expect you to stop yer work to feed me.”

“It’s no a bother, Robbie.” She smiled shyly and shrugged before holding one out to him. “I was stopping for my own midday meal anyway. I thought perhaps we could take our meal together.”

He dropped to one knee, not realizing how hungry he was until he took the first bite. “This is very good.”

Her cheeks bloomed a bright pink as she sat down beside him. After her first bite she looked up at him and wrinkled her nose before scooting several paces away.

Good. Having her so close had made even thought difficult.

“It’s a fair warm day, is it no?” she asked, as if searching for something to say. “And you’ve been working hard.”

He nodded, concentrating on the food in his hands. Small talk was an art at which he had never excelled. Filling his mouth with another bite, he allowed himself to steal a quick glance in her direction.

She stared off into the woods. The silence that fell between them felt all the more uncomfortable because
of their shared memory of last night’s easy conversation.

In that silence Robert found himself entranced by her hair, staring at the way the sun glinted off individual strands. It looked like threads of deep burnished gold had been carelessly scattered among the bright, shiny copper. Sitting here next to Isa, it was all but impossible for him to remember his dislike of red hair.

Loose curls tossed in the breeze, framing her face. He fought the desire to reach out and capture one, to discover its fine texture between his fingers.

Instead he shoved another bite into his mouth.

Obviously whatever fool malady had plagued him last night haunted him still. For the life of him, he couldn’t begin to imagine why he was so obsessed with a woman he’d met only a day ago.

Another gentle puff of wind washed past, and her scent tickled at his nose like fresh mowed lawns on a lazy summer day. For an instant, his mind was filled with an image of her ankle-deep in one of those lawns. Her hair was loosened, floating around her shoulders in the breeze, as that fine, soft shift she’d worn last night slid the length of her curves to pool at her feet. When the mirage lifted her arms to beckon him closer, he actually leaned forward, jerking himself out of the erotic daydream.

“I have to go.” He jumped to stand, dropping what was left of his meal. He could only pray he didn’t sound as desperate to her as he did to his own ears.

“Yer leaving?” She sat still, looking up at him with those huge, innocent eyes of hers, blinking as if he’d confused her.

“It’s the fence.” He scrambled over his thick, useless tongue to come up with an excuse. “I need saplings for the wattle. I need to be about finding them before it’s too late in the day.”

“Oh.” She rose to her feet, dusting her hands off on her apron. “I can help, if you like.”

“No!” Good lord, he was so desperate to put some distance between them, he’d all but yelled it at her. He tried again, more quietly. “No, you’ve yer own chores to do. I’ll be back before dark. I can stay to the stream and find my way.”

He started off at a jog, stopping only long enough to grab the axe and rope he’d laid out earlier for the task.

The fence might need saplings but he’d reached a point where he needed the hard work of something much larger than cutting down a few twigs. He was thinking more along the lines of a big tree. He needed something that would exhaust his body and clear his thoughts.

With one last look back at the beauty watching him go, he cut into the woods, picking up speed. By all the Faerie Magic in the world, he sincerely doubted any place on the planet held a tree massive enough to allow him to drive that sight from his mind.

“Well, this is getting nothing done.” Isa spoke aloud as she was accustomed to doing, forcing herself to move at last. She had no idea how long she’d remained where she was, staring into the spot where Robbie had disappeared.

How stupid of her to feel disappointed that he hadn’t wanted her company. Wasn’t she the one who disdained
the company of others? And wasn’t it beyond idiocy to feel lonely because he’d gone?

“Brainsick, that’s me,” she said to the world in general. Perhaps these past eight years of pretending to be a simple-minded dullard had taken their toll at last.

She did have work that needed doing. Too many tasks to waste her day dreaming after a man who was little more than a stranger. A kind stranger. A hardworking stranger.

“But a stranger nonetheless,” she said firmly, stopping at the woodpile to load up her arms.

The fire for her oven wouldn’t build itself. Without the fire there would be no bread for tomorrow’s meals. And hadn’t she promised herself this was the year she would try to build the drains depicted in her father’s old manuscript?

Perhaps she’d show the papers to Robbie tonight.

He might be a stranger, but he was a stranger whose company made her oddly happy.

With new purpose, Isa threw herself into her chores over the next few hours, losing track of time. Her bread was baking and a new pot of porridge was on to simmer, this one with bits of dried meat.

She’d just rounded the cottage, heading toward the stable to check on the ewe, when her goats began to nervously toss their heads and paw the ground.

Instantly alert, she knew that meant only one thing. They heard something she didn’t yet hear.

Gathering her skirts up in one hand, she raced around the building to her front door, stopping only long enough to pick up the faint sound of approaching hooves.

With haste, she barred the door and dragged her stool close, climbing up to peer out the little hole. Her stomach tightened in apprehension. Was it possible Robbie’s prediction that MacDowylt would find her was coming to pass?

Within minutes her question was answered.

“What in the name of all that’s holy,” she grumbled, hopping off her stool and throwing open the door. “What are you doing here?”

From his perch atop an old horse, Jamie grinned down at her.

“I come bearing official news.”

“Well, then, lad, climb down off there and deliver it.”

She tried to hold her stern expression, but it was nigh on impossible when the child was so obviously excited. He stood as straight and tall as his battered body would allow, closing his eyes as if he prepared to recite a speech he’d memorized.

“Yer presence is required two days hence at his lairdship’s nup . . . nup . . .” His bright blue eyes flew open and his lips tightened in irritation before he leaned forward, all pretense of official messenger forgotten. “I canna remember the word, Mistress Isa, but yer grandfather is to wed Mistress Agneys and he especially asked me to see to it that you come to the castle for the ceremony. They’re having a clergyman all the way from Urquhart.”

Isa felt the shock of Jamie’s news like a slap to her face, but whether it was her grandfather’s marrying someone her own age or his wanting her there for the wedding that surprised her most, she could not say.

“Yer guardman is to come as well.”

“Guardian,” she corrected absently. Yes, strangely, she did want Robbie there with her. She should go find him and tell him they’d need to go back to Castle MacGahan day after tomorrow.