Highland Lover (33 page)

bodice with shaking fingers.

“I have missed ye, too, Gregor,” she said in an equally quiet voice.

“Have ye forgiven me, then?”

“Oh, aye,” she said and meant it, the last of her resistance fading. “I was just afraid.”

“That I would treat ye unkindly?”

“That I couldnae trust my own judgment.”

“Ah, I can understand that fear verra weel indeed.”

He slipped his hand inside her bodice and stroked her breast, trembling from the strength of the

hunger raging inside of him. She trembled, too, and arched into his caress, sending his passion

soaring. She had come back to him, he thought dazedly, and felt an emptiness that had haunted him

for weeks start to fade away.

Feeling his hands on her body again was pure bliss, Alana thought, but she grasped enough sanity to

recall where they were. The gardens in the middle of the day were not the place for this type of

reunion. Groaning softly as frustration gripped her, she put her hands on his chest and gave him a

slight push. The look he gave her was one of crushing disappointment and Alana suddenly realized

that, although it might not be the love she wanted, Gregor did feel something for her. She could feel his desire within her, smell the heat of his on his skin, and she should have known that such a thing would not be possible unless the man felt more than a simple lusting for her.

“We are in the garden, Gregor,” she said, not surprised to hear the husky note of passion in her

voice, for her blood still ran hot with it.

“Aye, we are.” He frowned and looked around as he slowly came to his senses.

“And ’tis the middle of the day.”

“Aye, so it is.”

“And I can hear your brothers on the training ground nay so verra far away.”

“The bastards.”

She laughed and was pleased to see him grin. He shook his head and relaced her bodice with such a

heavy sigh of regret that she had to laugh again. It felt good to laugh, to feel that joy he had always stirred within her. She had allowed herself to become mired in self-pity, fear, and doubt for too long.

As he helped her sit up and then hugged her close to his side, she considered telling him that she

carried his child. After a moment’s thought she discarded the idea. There were a few things still left unsaid and undone between them, and she did not want the fact that she was with child to make him

do or say anything he did not feel wholeheartedly. She was going to keep a secret from him, she

realized, and almost grinned.

Gregor gently stroked her cheek, pleased to see the glow in her eyes again. Whatever had troubled

her so had truly faded. In a way, he had simply been standing in place as she had struggled with her

thoughts and feelings. Now the true wooing could begin.

Suddenly he felt almost shy. It was not so hard to speak pretty flatteries and give her little gifts in an effort to soothe the hurt he had dealt. Those would not be enough now, however. Now he was going

to have to speak of his feelings, speak of the future and the thousands of other things that he had

never spoken of with a woman before. He felt all the words he had thought of telling her dry up in

his mouth.

When had he become such a coward, he wondered? He loved this woman. He wanted her to sleep at

his side every night. He wanted children with her. He wanted to know that she would be within

reach whenever he needed to see her smile or touch her. Such things should not be hard to say aloud,

and yet his throat had closed up, refusing to allow the words out of his mouth. Perhaps, he thought,

he needed to practice saying them a few times before he actually spoke them to her. It seemed a

foolish idea, but sitting there like a dumb ox was embarrassing.

“We need to talk, lass,” he said.

“Aye, we do.” She frowned, for he looked a little agitated and had gone somewhat pale. “Ye dinnae

have another secret ye havenae told me, do ye, Gregor?” she asked nervously.

“Nay,” he said firmly. “Jesu, lass, ye ken more about me than any woman e’er has. I cannae seem to

shut up around ye.”

She had to bite back a smile, for he sounded very disgruntled about that. “I like to ken what ye think and hear about what ye are doing.”

“I feel the same about ye, lass.”

He relaxed a bit, thinking that it might be possible to edge up to a confession of what was in his

heart. Perhaps if he let the words out slowly, speaking of one hope and need at a time, it would not

choke him so. Gregor had not considered how difficult it would be to bare his heart and soul, even

to a woman he knew would never abuse the heart he wanted to set in her small hands. He could

recall advising his brother Ewan on what to say and do concerning Fiona and cursed himself for a

hypocrite. Advice was a lot easier to give than to take.

The feel of Alana’s soft fingers stroking his cheek drew him from his thoughts and he smiled at her.

She looked confused, and well she might. He had been pursuing her for a fortnight, and now that

she had finally softened toward him, he stuttered and fumbled about like a beardless boy with his

first lass. If this were happening to any of his brothers, he would have teased them without mercy.

He thanked God none of them could see or hear him now.

Deciding that Gregor was not going to be offering her any sweet words for the moment, Alana

looked up at the sky. “’Tis time to go to the great hall for a meal.”

“The nooning,” he murmured, unable to resist another taste of her.

Alana shivered with pleasure as he kissed the curve of her neck. “The what?”

“My father calls it the nooning.”

“But the church calls it—”

“Aye, but as my father says, he doesnae care what the church calls it. He isnae praying, he is

eating.” He grinned against her skin when she laughed. “Ye are right. ’Tis time to eat, and if we

dinnae hurry into the great hall, Fiona will probably eat everything herself.” He laughed when she

lightly punched him on the arm, for she was grinning as she did so.

He sat up straighter and grasped her by the shoulders. “I truly have missed ye sorely, love,” he said softly.

“I have been right here at Scarglas, Gregor.”

“Ye ken what I mean. And, aye, ye have been here, close at hand, but this is the first time that I

have felt that ye are really back at my side.”

She felt the pinch of guilt for the way she had been treating him but quickly shook it aside. He was

not without fault in what had gone wrong between them. While it was true that she had clung to her

hurt and anger longer than was necessary, he had put it there to begin with. Nevertheless, she felt

some sympathy for him. Leaning forward, she kissed him, and after a moment of a gentle brushing

of their lips, he pulled her hard against him and deepened the kiss. The strong passion they shared

had obviously been left unsatisfied for too long for them to be able to indulge in sweet, gentle kisses.

Then, so abruptly she almost fell off the bench, Gregor was yanked out of her arms. Alana blinked

when she saw him dangling several inches off the ground. Then she looked up from the strange

sight of Gregor’s feet in the air and saw who held him in a tight grip by the back of his jupon. Artan and Lucas had finally tracked her down.

Chapter 20

Gregor was so amazed to find himself dangling in the air that it took him a moment to realize that

he could be in danger. He quickly looked at Alana to assure himself that she was safe only to find

her glaring at the man who held him by the back of his jupon. Something in her manner told him

that he was not in any real danger, nor was she. He glanced over his shoulder at the two men behind

him and stared into two angry faces. They were big; they were handsome; they were absolutely

identical in looks.

“Ah, Alana, I believe your brothers have arrived,” he drawled.

“Put him down this minute,” Alana ordered her brothers and then cursed when Lucas shrugged and

tossed Gregor at her feet. “That was unnecessary,” she snapped as she moved to help Gregor to his

feet.

Gregor smiled at her as she helped him brush the dirt off his clothes. “Mayhap ye should introduce

me, love.”

“These are my brothers. Artan is to the right and Lucas is to the left. These are the ones I was

following when the Gowans grabbed me.”

“I am more concerned about who was grabbing ye here in the garden,” said Artan.

“This is Gregor MacFingal Cameron,” she said.

“Cannae decide on a name?”

“Ye have met my cousins and some of my brothers, so dinnae pretend ye dinnae understand,” said

Gregor.

Artan shrugged and then glared at him. “Mayhap ye would like to tell us what ye were doing with

our sister?”

“I believe I was kissing her.”

“And I believe I am about to break your head.”

Alana quickly stepped between Gregor and her brothers. She was used to their somewhat

belligerent natures, but she was a little surprised at how Gregor was behaving. That last remark had

been intended to goad her brothers, if she was any judge of such things. Under the circumstances it

seemed to be a foolish thing to do.

“There will be none of that,” she said.

“That was what I was about to tell you,” drawled Lucas. “’Tis nay like ye to be sitting in a garden

letting some fool put his tongue down your throat.”

Although she blushed over such blunt language, Alana refused to back down. “I am a grown woman,

and ’tis none of your business whose tongue I let go down my throat.” She nearly groaned. “I

cannae believe I just said that,” she muttered and then glared at all three men, who looked far too

amused. “How did ye find me? Did the mon we sent out to find ye bring ye here?”

“Nay. He didnae find us. We found him.”

“What do ye mean, ye found him?”

“Perhaps we ought to go inside and talk about this as we eat,” said Gregor.

“Now that sounds a fine idea,” said Artan, and he grabbed Alana by the hand and pulled her away

from Gregor.

Alana kicked her brother in the shin and quickly returned to Gregor’s side. She hooked her arm

through Gregor’s and walked beside him as they started toward the keep. For a moment her brothers

scowled after her, but then the thought of food softened their mood and set them moving. Within a

few steps she found herself and Gregor following her brothers. Then she caught sight of two horses

being led to the stables.

“Gregor, arenae those our horses?” she asked, unable to believe her eyes.

“Aye, they are. I wonder how they got here?” Gregor had the feeling her brothers had brought them,

and the thought galled him beyond words.

Looking for her brothers, she realized they had already entered the keep. “Those wretches have a

few things to explain,” she muttered as she hurried into the keep, dragging a grinning Gregor along

with her.

Gregor could not help but be amused by the way Alana acted with her brothers. They were big men

with a rough manner and, he suspected, very hard when they needed to be, yet she had absolutely

no fear of them. Even though he found something about them that set his hackles up, he knew they

would never hurt her and it was clear that she knew it, too. He suspected that one of the things he

found so threatening about Alana’s brothers was that they might try to take her away from him and,

worse, they had the right to do so.

As they entered the great hall, Gregor saw his brother scowling at the way the Murray twins were

charming Fiona, and he chuckled. He escorted Alana to her seat and sat down beside her while the

two men were distracted. The identical glares they sent him as they sat down opposite him and

Alana made him smile.

“Gregor,” Alana said as she tugged on his sleeve, “isnae that the mon we sent to find my brothers

and tell them that I was here? It certainly looks like young Simon.”

Looking in the direction she was pointing, he saw his young half brother Simon, the one they had

sent to find the Murray twins, sitting with a group of his brothers and laughing, and then Gregor

looked at the Murrays. “Ye met up with Simon, I see.”

“Aye, we found him at the Gowans,” said Artan as he filled his plate with venison and some of the

vegetables Fiona was so fond of.

“They had taken Simon for ransom?”

“Aye, that was their game.”

“Ye must let us repay ye for the cost of freeing the mon,” said Ewan.

“Och, it didnae cost us anything,” Artan said almost sweetly as he spread a thick layer of honey on

his bread.

“Artan, I wouldnae wish ye to give yourself a brain fever, but do ye think ye could just tell your tale from beginning to end instead of forcing us to pull it out of ye word by word?” asked Alana, her

sharp words spoken in a too-sweet voice as she fought to keep her temper.

“Ye werenae beaten enough as a child.”

“I was ne’er beaten. Now, please, the story about how ye found Simon and our horses.”

“She is getting to be a verra ordering sort of female, dinnae ye think, Lucas?”

“Artan!”

“Aye,” replied Lucas, “but best ye do as she says ere she sets after ye with that wee dagger she is

clutching so tightly.”

“Weel, we followed ye to the Gowans’ keep and heard all that had happened. The tale of your

escape is a favorite one of the men in the alehouse. ’Tis there we heard about this new fellow they

had captured, and so we went to have a wee word with them. We convinced them that it would be in

their best interest to give us the horses they had stolen from ye and Gregor MacFingal and that, if