As High as the Heavens (8 page)

"Are ye saying," he forced himself to ask, "that ye're
offering yer daughter as my personal tutor?"

"Aye, if ye'll have her."

Have her? Was the man blind as well as daft? This
was a gift to kill for!

"If ye say she's fit to teach me what needs to be taught,
aye, of course I'll have her."

At his apparent doubt as to her abilities, Heather shot
him a baleful glare then, clamping her mouth tightly,
swung her gaze back to the fire. Duncan hid his smile
of satisfaction. Good. As hard as she tries to hide it, she
isn't as docile or accepting of all this as it would first
seem.

"Heather is an extremely well-read, intelligent young
woman." Robert contemplated the contents of his goblet momentarily before taking another swallow. "Ye'll
be hard-pressed, I'd wager, to find her lacking in any
subject."

"And, once again, I'll take yer word on it." Swiftly,
Duncan turned his attention back to the older man, lest
he reveal the extent of his pleasure with the situation.
"How much time will this transformation require? And
where will it take place? I can't leave the Highlands for
any extended period of time just now."

"We haven't much time to spare, only three months
at most. The plan is to rescue the queen within the first
week of May. And as far as the place..." Robert shrugged.
"It'll be best to do it here. It'll be easier to maintain the
secrecy of the project as far from the queen and the
court spies as possible. Angus has agreed to put ye up
in his house for the interim. That way ye can have daily
access to Heather and yer lessons."

Duncan met his father's gaze, then turned back to
Robert, shaking his head. "Three months doesn't seem
an adequate time to me. But, as before, I'll take yer word
on it that yer daughter can teach me what I need to know by then. It won't be convenient, though, for me to stay
here wi' Angus. My mither's ill and my father can't spare
me for so long a time. I can't work our steading, then
ride back and forth to here every day. It's a half day's
ride each way, ye know."

Robert turned to Angus. "Can't ye spare a few men
to help Malcolm in the time we require Duncan's presence?"

The Mackenzie laird considered the request, then nodded. "Aye. It'll be difficult, but it can be done."

"Well, difficult or not," Duncan growled, a plan forming in his mind, "I won't agree to this no matter if Angus
can or can't spare the men. No purpose is served in inconveniencing all, when an alternate solution is readily
available."

At his words, Heather jerked from her contemplation
of the fire, her gaze slamming into his with a watchful,
wary intensity. Duncan smiled. She senses the trap about
to be sprung. She's indeed canny and quick-witted.

"And what solution would that be?" Robert Gordon
asked, his eyes blank save for a light of simple curiosity. "It's the last thing in my mind to inconvenience any
of us."

"We've a fine, large cottage." Even as he smilingly
continued, Duncan's resolve hardened. "Yer daughter,
if she's truly set upon doing her part to help free our
queen, can surely endure three months there."

"I'll do no such thing!" Heather, speaking out at last,
leaped to her feet. "It isn't seemly, nor are your quarters,
I'm sure, aught close to what I've become accustomed.
The lessons will be given here or not at all."

Duncan leaned against the settle's tall, wooden back,
folded his arms across his chest, and shrugged. "Then
I fear, sweet lass, further discussion is pointless. If ye
won't budge from behind these walls, then yer father's
plans for the queen's rescue will never see the light of
day."

In the long silence that followed, Heather looked from
her father to her uncle in outraged disbelief. "And what
have ye to say to this?" she finally demanded, directing
her gaze to Angus. "Ye're his laird. If ye command him
to stay here, he must do so."

Next, she turned to her father. "And ye. Pray, inform
this audacious lout that it isn't his to say, what I should
or shouldn't do."

Robert Gordon and Angus Mackenzie exchanged
glances. In that fleeting interchange, Heather found
the answer to her demands. There'd be no help from
either her father or uncle. In their minds, the queen's
rescue took precedence over everything else. Everything
... including propriety, physical comfort, and personal
misgivings.

With that daunting realization, Heather's resolve hardened. Though her cause obviously lacked supporters, she
had no intention of giving up without a fight. Even if she
was ultimately forced to acquiesce to Duncan Macken zie's offer, she intended to apprise them all of the terrible
price, in the bargain, they forced her to pay.

"Are ye certain that ye've fully considered what ye
two ask of me, in going to this man's house?" Heather
looked first to her father then her uncle. "Where am I
to sleep? In the common room with the farm animals
and in full view of this man and his father? Indeed, how
will I dress or bathe with any semblance of privacy? And
what will Charlie say to our betrothal," she added, at last
riveting an accusing gaze solely on her father, "when he
hears his future wife spent three months in the rustic,
unchaperoned company of other men?"

Her father's eyes widened. "Och, I confess that I didn't
think of that." He looked to Duncan. "My daughter's
right. It's out of the-"

"She doesn't have to sleep wi' the animals," Duncan
replied with a long-suffering roll of his eyes, before sending a sardonic glance in Heather's direction. "Besides the
common room-which, by the way, contains no farm animals save our terrier bitch-we've two separate sleeping
chambers. One my parents share and the other's mine.
For the duration, I'll gladly relinquish my chamber to
the lady so she can not only sleep there but `dress and
bathe wi' some semblance of privacy."'

"It's a fine, large cottage, lass," Angus chose at that
moment to offer his smiling contribution to the conversation. "Duncan and his father have worked their
steading well in the past years. Indeed, it's now one of
the most prosperous holdings in all of Mackenzie lands.
And Fiona-Malcolm's wife-keeps a spotless house. In the bargain, she's also an accomplished cook. Ye'll lack
for none of the basic comforts."

"Aye, if I do say so myself," Malcolm Mackenzie finally
spoke up, "we've a verra nice house. All thanks to Duncan, though. It was his especial hard work and clever
business dealings which brought us such prosperity."
He graced his son with a fatherly look of pride. "Aye,
my Duncan has a fine head on his shoulders, that he
does."

Heather shot Duncan Mackenzie-who hadn't budged
from his infuriatingly self-confident, arms-folded-overchest pose-a seething look. "I didn't mean to insult yer
home," she said, forcing a smile for Malcolm Mackenzie's
sake, "but surely ye can understand, as a noblewoman,
the delicate position such an arrangement places me in.
I'm to wed in six months' time. My betrothed, though
a kind, understanding man, might not take kindly to
my-

"Then he'll just have to trust ye, won't he?" Duncan
drawled lazily, his mouth twisting with what Heather
could only view as derision. "Since ye do love him-don't
ye?-what possible temptation could an `audacious lout,'
not to mention `oafish clod with naught more than whey
for brains' such as I present?"

At Heather's scandalized gasp, Malcolm and Angus
broke into laughter. Robert Gordon, however, mottled
with rage. He wheeled to face his daughter.

"Ye called him an oafish clod?" he demanded. "Lass,
lass, I don't understand why ye've taken such an instant dislike to the man. Angus has assured me Duncan
knows his manners and will treat ye with all courtesy and deference. And, though I admit our plans have taken
a wee detour, I didn't realize ye'd become such a ...
„
a-

"Peevish, scolding vixen?" Duncan supplied helpfully
when Robert seemed suddenly at a loss for words.

"Aye," Robert agreed, seizing on the suggestion a bit
too eagerly before catching himself. "Well, be that as it
may, ye know what I mean, lass." He had the good grace
to flush in embarrassment before hurrying on. "Ye said
ye were committed to the queen's rescue. We must all
make sacrifices-"

"Aye, that we must, Father," Heather muttered, controlling an urge to walk over and slap that smug, triumphant look off Duncan Mackenzie's face with the greatest
difficulty. "It just seems, of late, I'm the only one making
the sacrifices."

"Ye and yer father expect me to risk my life in impersonating another man so as to enter Lochleven. I'd say
yer wee sacrifice, in coming to my home to teach me,
pales in comparison."

At Duncan's accurate if unwelcome observation,
Heather gritted her teeth, then turned to meet his unflinching gaze. "Aye, in comparison, I suppose ye're
right." She paused, searching for the right words, even
as she grudgingly admitted Duncan Mackenzie had won
this first of what would assuredly be many battles between them. "I beg pardon if I offended ye and yer father in my reluctance to reside at your house. It wasn't
that I doubted yer assurances of yer home's comforts,
as much as I-"

"I know, lass."

His keen gaze knifed into hers. In that fleeting look, a
sudden knowledge passed between them. A knowledge of
the true reasons for Heather's fierce opposition to spending time with him in the relative seclusion of his home.
A knowledge of her strong attraction to him. And that
knowledge, though a rousing victory for Duncan, was
an equally shameful admission for Heather. Shameful
and forbidden yet, conversely, exciting in a way she had
never before experienced.

At the realization, a small shiver rippled through her.
A shiver of anticipation, of dread, and no small amount
of fear. There was no way, though, to avoid the confrontation to come. With all her strength and courage, she
must face the next three months and deal with Duncan
Mackenzie as best she could.

"Then I suppose it's settled, isn't it?" Heather said.

"Aye, I suppose it is," Duncan replied, his expression
suddenly shuttered, his voice devoid of emotion.

He didn't fool her, Heather thought, though all present might imagine he didn't care one way or another for
the victory he had just achieved. Just below the surface
of his outwardly indifferent demeanor, his true nature
smoldered. It but awaited the right time and place to
flare anew.

She had seen that look before. She was now an heiress,
after all. Already, many men lusted after her fortune, even
more than they lusted for her. Before, though, Heather
had always known how to deal with them. Known and
done so with the greatest ease, for she had felt no answering attraction for any suitor that she couldn't soon
master.

But now, staring back at the dark and disturbing Duncan Mackenzie, Heather realized this time it wouldn't be
so easy. Though she knew not why, she found Duncan
Mackenzie the most exciting man she had ever met.

She could only hope, for her peace of mind at the
very least, the heart of the man wasn't half as exciting
as was his person.

"I don't like it, my lady," Beth Erskine murmured later
that night as she helped Heather prepare for bed. "What
can yer father be thinking, to allow ye to journey deep
into the Highlands and so far from yer aunt and uncle's
supervision in the bargain?"

She shook out a long-sleeved, woolen sleeping gown.
Gathering it up, Beth slid it over her mistress's outstretched arms.

"And who does that Highlander think he is, to tell
ye that ye can't bring along both yer serving maids and
cook, no matter how small his house might be?" She
frowned. "Nay, I don't like it at all."

"That's not the half of it, Beth." Heather pulled the
sleeping gown down into place and fastened the highnecked collar closed. "Not only is Duncan Mackenzie an
overbearing despot, but he's also a crude, brazen rogue."
She shuddered. "And to think I must work in close quarters with him for the next three months!"