FLAME ACROSS THE HIGHLANDS (7 page)

This time the kiss he gave her was far from gentle and Brianna was mutely aware of the firm muscles of his body as he moved against her.  Before she could protest he had pulled her down with him to the soft woodland grass.  This time she was not mesmerized by his touch, however.  Indignant fury surged through her.  She would let no man take her against her will!  That he was a man used to women and therefore  potentially dangerous for that knowledge
, she sensed now.  This was no shy Jaimie whom she could frighten away with a scowl or an angry word.  He had said that he was a man used to taking what he wanted and what he wanted right now was her.  Well, she would soon burst his bubble.  Arrogant oaf, she thought, he would not cajole her.

Locked against him as she was, there was no mistaking his male
arousal. Oh, she'd heard the women talk, knew what was to follow if she did not keep her head.  Conceited toady.  Who did he think he was to fall upon her?  She was the MacQuarie's daughter, not some village trollop he could take because he so chose.

"Let me go...." she commanded
. He did not heed.  Even now he was smiling, so smug in his self-assurance.  Well, she'd given him fair warning but he had not heeded it.  Now there was but one course of action. She would soon wipe the smile off his face with a well-aimed blow, right to that area of him that he seemed to prize so highly. So determining, Brianna aimed her knee, putting an end to his lustful thoughts.  She watched as he doubled over in agony.

"I say ye willna take me and by th
e saints ye shall not!"  Disentangling herself from his arms, she stood with hands upon hips as she assessed him.  He was not so sure of himself now.  He did in fact look most miserable.  She should have felt triumphant and yet somehow she did not.  Fool that she was, she felt nearly regretful, though she did not know why.  In truth, he had it coming, did he not?  And yet he had made her feel beautiful, at least for a moment.  She had enjoyed his kiss, there was no lying about that.  To her mortification she had to admit to herself that  despite his boldness she was attracted to him.  Even now.

"You're a spirited lass,"  Ian managed to say at last.   An echo of pain shadowed his face yet he regarded her with open and
somewhat mocking admiration as he lay in a heap upon the ground.  Ian Campbell had never been so fiercely upbraided in his life, especially by a woman.  He took a deep breath, gratified when the pain at last was gone.  "But could you not just have said no?"

"I did and ye didna listen."  She glared at him defiantly,
hiding behind a veil of anger.

"Aye, that you did.  That you did.  But I didn't think you really meant i
t, lass.  You responded to me, you can not say otherwise."  He met her gaze for a long moment, unable to look away.  "And in spite of what you did I'm still drawn to you. It is my wish that you'll have second  thoughts."  As he spoke his eyes swept over her suggestively.

Smooth talking
, arrogant rogue, she thought.  Oh, he was clever.  A smooth-talking   dangerous man.  Doubly so because of his charm.

"I'll not be changing my mind."  Shielding her eyes she scanned the undulating landscape, looking towards that road from where the
Campbells would be coming.  It was a well-traveled horse trail, clearly visible from upon the hillside.  Not a sign of anyone coming.  What then if he abducted her, kept her from fulfilling her promises? A flush of guilt stained her cheeks for just a moment, knowing that such a thing crossed her mind.  Appraising this dark-haired, terribly handsome man, she wondered if she would be very anxious to be rescued.  The answer quite honestly was that she would not.  Oh, if only
he
were Robbie Campbell.

Robbie Campbell.  What was Robbie Campbell like?  She could help but wonder.  Would he be anywhere near as much a rogue as this man?  Would his kisses be just as potent?  She scolded herself for such musing.  Few women married for love or sweet kisses.  She had spoken that fact quite truthfully to Glenna.  Why then should she be the exception?  Be he handsome or plain
, Robbie was to be her bridegroom .  She would push any other thoughts away.  She was soon to be the instrument of bringing peace.  What greater gift was there than that?

"You say you'll not b
e changing your mind?  I wouldn’t be too sure of that."  He startled her with another smile.  His blue eyes were disarmingly frank.  He looked bemused with the situation.  Slowly Ian stood up, feasting his eyes on her for several moments longer.

"Och!"  His ar
rogance was not to be borne.  "You'd best be sure of it.  Yer boldness will bring nothing. I tell ye now to go away."  That he had charmed her she refused to allow him to see.  "Now, leave me once again to my tranquility.  It's much I've got on my mind."

"Leave?  And never see you again?  Is that really what you want?"  Disappointment rankled him as he realized she meant exactly what she said.  Strange how her denial only seemed to make him more determined.  He hated to lose.  There were hundreds of pretty young women in the
Highlands, yet somehow at this moment she was the only one he wanted.  He laughed at such a predicament.  He, Ian Campbell, had been shunned.  How Aulay would laugh at that.

"Aye.  It is my wish ne'r to see ye again."  The finality of her tone stung him.  So she was not just being coy.  Remembering the p
ain she had dealt him, the physical come-uppance, he was reminded that she was not.

"Well, then so be it.  I wish you good day."  His last look was a wistful one before he turned to walk away.  He knew the image of her would be etched in his memory for a very long time.  At least until he came upon another winsome b
eauty, he thought with a grin.

A tidal wave of silence consumed them.  For the first time in his life Ian did not
know quite what to say.  Thus he stole away silently, not sensing the eyes that followed him, watching as he moved through the trees.  Nor did he know that for just a moment the woman he had briefly treasured was looking at him with regret, wondering what might have sparked between them if the fire had not been extinguished  before it came to full flame.  They might never meet again, that was all Ian knew and perhaps, he thought, it was just as well.
              But what was her name?  He did not even know that.  He suddenly  realized that she had not told him.  Fool that he was, he had left without even a hint as to her identity.  The thought crossed his mind that he had admitted defeat far too easily. If he ever beheld her again he would not let her go.  Not again.  With a shrug of his shoulders he set off to find Aulay.

Chapter Six

The strum of harp strings echoed throughout the hall. Glenna smiled as she went about her woman's work.  She relished every plink and plunk because it was brought about by Alastair's adroit fingers.  From time to time she cast a longing glance at him over her shoulder as she cut up the vegetables for the stovies.  A hundred times she had imagined what it would be like to find herself in his arms.  He was handsome, so undeniably handsome.  Surely no warrior could have had arms as strong, a face so wonderfully chiseled or hair that shown like gold in the sun.  Now while he practiced his singing for the evenings feasting, his hair gleamed in the firelight, taking on a darker hue.

Only when his gaze met her eye
s did she realize how poignantly she was staring.  Hastily she looked away, but not before she witnessed the smile that curved his lips. A tantalyzing grin that gave her hope that he was thinking about her too. Oh, how she wanted to we him. With Brianna promised to the Campbell heir it was entirely possible.

Ah, please let him ask for me soon, she thought.  "I will take no other but
Alastair,"  she swore beneath her breath.  No other man had touched her heart as he had.  He was the man she wanted. She could feel it with every beat of her heart.  Even his very name deeply stirred her, filled her senses as deeply as a draught of her father's ale.  And yet, though he talked with her, walked with her, sang soft flowery verses that she sensed were meant for her, he had avoided telling her in words what his intentions might be.  He would ask for her, would he not?  Surely he was not just teasing her, toying with her affections?

Glenna gasped as she
accidentally nicked her thumb with the knife.  Resigning herself to keep her mind on what she was doing, she nonetheless found it to be an impossible vow.  She just couldn't keep her eyes from roaming to where Alastair sat slumped on his bench, the harp propped against his knee.

"Ah
, the finest voice in all the Highlands, that he has."  The young, dark-haired woman who spoke licked her lips, daring a much bolder smile at the
seanachaidh
  than Glenna might have dared.  "His hands are gentle on the strings.  I dare to think they might stroke a woman's body with as much magic."

"Och!  Ye be brazen to say such a thing!"  Just the thought of Alastair holding any other woman in his arms wounded Glenna to the quick, n
or could she hide her emotions. "Fie, Jeanne!"

"Brazen because ye 'ave set yer sights on him?  Ye be not alone.  There must be at least half a dozen wi' th
e same thought in mind.  Ha, I'd even say there are some o' the married one's who would shove their husbands aside to have the bard in their bed."  She giggled suggestively.  "Ye know what they say aboot a tall mon wi' long fingers....."

Glenna did, and she blushed to the roots of her hair.  She had heard the women talking, espousing what went on between a woman and a man.  They had even been so bold as to talk about marital secrets, comparing their husbands' love-making.  Some had been said to be ample, others found
wanting. Whisperings about the bard had been bandied about.  His looks, his voice, his gentleness made him a romantic figure about the hall.  Though Glenna was an untried maiden, all the twittering had sparked her curiosity, beset her with fantasies.  Wild primitive desires invaded her young body, flamed with a fever that ofttimes shocked her.  It was her greatest longing to be wed.  It was a yearning that sparked her impatience.  Now Jeanne's whisperings made her even more anxious to marry Alastair before another claimed him.

"O
ch, I can read yer thoughts as clearly as the bard can his scribbled words, but little good it will do ye, lass.  Yer the MacQuarie's daughter.  Love is no' fer the likes o' ye.  Ye'll marry to further the interests of the clan.  Yer sister is marrying a Campbell.  Perhaps a MacLeod will be in yer stars."  Glancing sideways through her cloak of dark hair, Jeanne giggled.  "But I'll make certain Alastair doesna pine long.  Aye, that I will."  She sauntered off with a toss of her head and a swish of her long woolen skirts.

"Marry a MacLeod?"  Glenna  worriedly tossed her head.  Brianna had made a sacrifice, had given up her own freedom so that Glenna could follow her heart.  She would not allow her sister to have made such a gesture in vain.  She would marry Alastair or be damned for a coward.  "It will be Alastair," she murmured, feeling a sense of urgency rise like a tide within her.  Oh where was Brianna?  How she needed her wisdom, her advice.  Looking around for her
, she saw to her dismay that her sister was nowhere to be found.  Indeed it seemed the pattern of the day lately that Brianna was spending a good deal of time by herself.  She would have to use her own intuition then.

Glenna would have liked to wait until Alastair made the first move in the matter of arranging a marriage
, but now Jeanne's words sparked a recklessness in her heart that she had never felt before.  Laughing softly, she thought that perhaps when it came to important matters she might not be so very different from Brianna after all. Her hands began to tremble at the thought that she must be the one to initiate the wooing.  She must encourage the bard to ask her father for her hand now, before another decision was made as to her mating.  Lachlan would be preoccupied with matters of Brianna's nuptials and might very well be manageable.  Hopefully she would find that to be so, for though Brianna withstood his rages with a smile, Glenna always trembled.

Crossing her fingers for luck, Glenna crossed the hall in silent strides, coming up behind Alastair before cautio
n could take hold of her mind. With a nod of her head and a quirk of her brow she artfully spelled out her message so that none in the hall was any the wiser, that she wanted to meet with him by the old gnarled oak tree.  Would he?  Could he?  The smile that he gave he answered yes.

Wind whipped at Glenna's hair, sending the strands flying about her shoulders
as she stepped out the door.  Carefully she adjusted her
arasaid
, a long length of material draped  around the waist, and covering her head like a shawl. Making her way to the appointed place of the rendezvous, she tried to calm the rapid beat of her heart.  A tight stirring in the pit of her stomach coiled at the very thought of what she was about.  How should she bring up the subject? What should she say?  How should she act?  Just how did a woman instigate a proposal of marriage?  Oh, if only for just one moment in time she could become Brianna.  Brianna would have little trouble.  She would merely say bluntly what was on her mind, come right to the point.  Why then shouldn't she?  Over and over again she rehearsed in her mind just what words she would utter.

"Glenna!"  His voice startled her, for she had not seen nor heard his footstep as he approached.  Now that he was here she wondered if she had been foolish in supposing that matters of
the heart could be so simple. What if she was wrong? What if he did not feel for her what she felt for him?  Her fears were dispelled as he took her hand.

"Alastair....."  Depite her heart's prodding, words failed her and all she could do was to look into the depths of his sea-blue eyes.  Nervously she tugged at the fabric of her blue
arisaid
.  Alastair pulled it down, leaving her hair to blow wildly in the wind.

"I like yer hair flying free as it is, unplaited."  The warmth of his fingers gently caressed her hand.  "Ye look bonnie wi' the fury of the breeze stirrin' the flame.  It makes me wish...."  His voice was low and held the same rippling  baritone as when he sang.  "It makes me long for things I
canna have..."

"What things, Alastair?"  Somehow she found her voice, but it
came out in a croaked whisper.

"You..."  He shook his head, pulling his hand away as he t
ook a step back from her.  "Though to even contemplate loving you is madness.  I've let my dreams lead me on to treacherous ground."

"Nae, ye haven't."  She hurried to reassure him.  "I've only been too shy to tell ye verbally that I feel the same about you."  Glenna's heart hammered so loudly in her breast that she could barely hear her own words.  Reaching out she clasped his h
and, but Alastair pulled away.

"It is a thing that canna be.
The bard and the MacQuarie's daughter?  If I would but kiss ye the MacQuarie would hae my head. He would never approve of me."  Slumping his shoulders he started to turn away, but Glenna pulled at his cloak to stop him.

"Being the
seanachaidh
is a noble calling, passed down from father to son as surely as my father's own honor.  How can ye then walk away?"  Tears of frustrated longing stung her eyes and she blinked them away.

"Had yer father many sons he might grant a joining between us, but think, Glenna.  He has no heir.  He'll be wanting warriors, fighting men
to wed his daughters.  He'll be wantin' his grandsons to be wielding clay'mors, no' plucking harp strings.  The MacQuaries are a noble lineage. Lachlan will no' be wantin' them to die out.  He'll be tyin' ye up wi' a MacDonald, MacKinnon, or MacGregor, distant members o' his own clan wi' the blood of kings in their veins.  No' a minstrel."

"But ye are a MacKinnon.
Ye've blood ties to ours. "

"Aye, but my father was born on the wrong side o' the blanket.  The stain of
bastard's blood taints my sire. Another reason yer father will no' gi' his permission for anything to pass between us."  He shrugged his shoulders, passing his hand through his hair to tame it's unruliness in the wind.

"And so ye'll just gi' me up just like that?  Drench the fire before it's kindled?"  Glenna clucked he tongue in a rar
e gesture of aggravation.  "Do I mean so little to ye then as that?  Perhaps then I should tell Brianna that
I
will go to the Campbell.  I had thought... I had hoped...."  She tried to blink back her tears, but this time they overwhelmed her, washing away her anger as the rolled down her cheeks in a torrent.  Sobbing, she covered her face with her hands.  He didn't care.  Not really.  He couldn't and act so resolved to their fate.  A caring man would fight to win her, not give up so easily.

"Glenna, sweetling, dunna cry...! Please.  I canna stand to hear it.  I didna want to hurt ye, just to talk common sense.  Hinny...!"  Grasping her shoulders he pulled
her towards him, drying her tears with his fingers.  "Come, cry no more."  With a mumbled imprecation he cupped her chin in his hand, bent his head, claiming her mouth in an ardent kiss. 

What a strange sensation it was to feel
his lips on hers, Glenna thought, but found it pleasingly stirring. She was giddy, conscious only of the warmth emanating from his male body.  Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the titillating sensations that swept through her.  So this was what love was all about.  Reaching up, she wound her arms around his neck, holding him closer, never wanting to let go.  At last, however, Alastair pulled away.

"O
ch, it was heaven..."  The look in his eyes made her feel the depth of his desire, a desire that made her flush a brilliant shade of pink that clashed with her hair.  "Ye hae made me the envy of every man in the hall," he whispered in her ear.

"And I the envy of every woman."  Jeanne's words came back to taunt her
, but even so she smiled.  That bold miss would get little enough chance to claim the golden bard if she had her way.  "Come wi' me, Alastair.  We'll speak to my father now.” She tried to hide her own fear of her father, hoping he would not be as fiercesome as she supposed. “He has  other daughters to wed wi' his warriors.  Orianna is nearly of age and  Morgana holds promise of being lovely when she is grown.  And we'll hae Brianna on our side."  Shyness came back to claim her and she lowered her eyes.  She was brazenly pushing the matter despite what he'd said, all his declarations, but she wanted him so.

"I...I
can't!  Not yet...I..I..."

His reluctance deflated her new-found courage. Disappointment surged through her. "Ye canna?  Or ye willna
?  Are ye then so faint of heart, Alastair MacKinnon?  Go then!  If ye be so afraid I'll no' goad ye longer."  Though he reached for her hand she tore it away as if scalded, taking to her heels, fleeing through the undergrowth.  She felt humiliated.  Devastated.  Felt heartache engulf her.  Hardly even caring where she was going, she ran back towards the hall, stumbling along.  Suddenly it was as if she ran right into a stone wall.  Almost toppling to the ground from the force of the collision, Glenna looked up in stunned surprise at the grinning personage that stared down at her.

"So we meet again.  I'd be lying if I pretended
I’m not delighted, lass."  One dark eyebrow shot upward as the deep blue eyes traveled over her slender body.  His gaze was bold, tracing every valley, every curve as if to memorize the sight.  "But how did you get here before me? 'Tis a puzzlement lass.  You must be as fleet of foot as a deer or have magical powers.  You are a kelpie.  I know it now."  His eyes lingered on the provocative fullness of her breasts.  "But I do think I liked the other gown much better.  Made ye look like one of the angels."

"Angels?  Meet again?"  Glenna wa
s understandably baffled, but being preoccupied with thoughts of Alastair's lackluster wooing, gave it little contemplation.

"There was magic between us bac
k there at the water's edge.  You knew it and so did I.  It would be to my liking if we conjured up such enchantment again but continued it this time."  He winked.