Highland Surrender (21 page)

After a few miles, they circled back around and headed toward the village just north of the castle.

“Myles taught me to ride,” Alyssa said as they went on. She looked pretty and petite, riding high upon her saddle, and she handled her mount expertly.

“I had little choice,” he responded. “’Twas either teach you to ride or let you forever clamor upon my back. My knees did not enjoy it. Nor did I take well to the switch.”

Alyssa giggled brightly. “I never once struck you with a switch.”

“I remember well you did. And often too. You were merciless.”

“’Twas a ribbon, you silly goose.”

“Well, then you wielded it harshly, for it stung like a switch,” he teased.

She laughed aloud. “Forgive me, brother. I had no idea you possessed so tender a rump.”

In an instant, the word brought a furious blush to Fiona’s cheeks, eliciting a memory of that very same rump on their
wedding night. Tender, indeed. It had felt of pure muscle beneath her hand. She coughed to clear her throat of nothing more than air.

Myles looked at her askance but said nothing.

The conversation continued, relaying nothing of import, but it struck within Fiona an acute aching for Margaret. She missed her sister more each day, but never more so than when she was with Alyssa. The girl was sweet and calm, innocent as spring rain. Even her laughter sounded so like Margaret’s, Fiona could close her eyes and imagine her own sister was next to her.

How she longed to send her a note and let her know she was safe and well. But in that letter, she would also have to reveal what happened to Bess, and she could not yet put the incident into words. As it was, she was not even certain if the Campbells knew she had a sister. For some strange reason, she had kept all thoughts of Margaret to herself, reluctant to share them, as if keeping her a secret kept her closer to Fiona’s heart.

She was grateful a few moments later when they arrived in the village, for thoughts of home had made her misty-eyed and sad.

All along the thoroughfare, shops of every sort lined up, with vendors out in front, hawking their wares. But at the sight of their laird’s son and daughter, the townsfolk stopped in their actions and began to call out greetings. They offered broad waves and eager smiles, and soon, groups of them surged forth in welcome. As each one called out to the next, more and more villagers poured out of the buildings, followed by dozens of children. So grand a welcome Fiona had never seen. It was as if they were royalty.

Stopping at the square in the center of the village, her husband slid from his saddle and greeted each person fondly, and often by name. It seemed he knew them well, and their respect for him was evident in their deportment. They were enthusiastic
but respectful, none being so bold as to touch his garment or interrupt his words.

Her own kin displayed no such warmth with one another. Doubt tapped at her senses, but just as quickly, she dashed it away. ’Twas easy to be friendly when times were good and food was plentiful. So although there may be less familiarity among her clan, their loyalty was no less fierce.

Myles continued with his greetings as he reached up to help Alyssa from her saddle. He set her lightly upon the ground, and she was quickly swallowed by a throng of friendly women.

Next, he came to Fiona’s side.

“Friends,” he called out over the din of voices, “please allow me to introduce my wife. I bid you welcome Lady Fiona Campbell, late of Sinclair and now one of our own.”

One of their own
. The declaration should have burned like a brand, but instead, she felt a peculiar swell of dignity encompass her. She was their lady now. Not the daughter of the laird, nor even the sister. She was his wife and would one day be the lady of Dempsey Castle. How odd that she had not considered that sooner. And more odd still that the notion should give her pleasure.

She looked over the crowd and saw their friendly faces. She let loose a breath she’d not realized she’d been holding.

“Welcome, my lady.”

“’Tis grand to meet you, my lady.”

“What a blessed day to meet our mistress.”

The wave of bodies surged once more, surrounding her horse and reaching up to clasp Fiona’s hands in welcome until Myles laughed. “Back off, now. Let my lady off her horse.”

He raised his arms and gazed at her expectantly. She had no choice but to ease into his arms. He was the devil wearing a leather jerkin and her husband’s smile.

And down she slid.

He could have simply lifted her from the saddle and set her on the ground, but so fine an opportunity he could not let pass. Instead, he pulled her close against him, letting her body slide down along his own. It was a mistake, he realized in an instant, for his cock sprang to life as if she were naked beneath him. The scent of vanilla wafted past, and he knew it came not from the baker’s shop, but from his wife’s warm skin. Her essence. Heaven help him, was this lass the poison or the cure?

’Twas little difference, really, for he’d consume her either way.

Her hands gripped at his shoulders, and he could not stop the vision of her legs wrapped around him too. Her lips were plump and parted as he lowered her farther still. The need to kiss her clubbed him like a mace. He could do it, here and now. His people would cheer and think him an adoring bridegroom.

But her reaction he could not predict, and he’d not be rejected in front of his clan.

He swallowed and set her feet upon the ground harder than he had planned, and she looked at him in some surprise.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and maneuvered her by the shoulders so she was standing right in front of him. He needed that moment to tame his wicked thoughts and rein in his stubborn erection.

“I have business with a few of you,” he called out. “And my wife and sister and I should like to stay for supper.”

“You can do business at my inn, my lord,” called out a gruff voice. “Best ale and cleanest tables!”

A chorus of voices called out their objections and their own offers for Myles to consider.

He raised one hand, laughing again. “Thank you, Tom. Your taproom will do nicely. I thank you all for your fine suggestions.”

Alyssa came to his side then. “I can lead Fiona around, Myles. I’m sure the ladies will show us the greatest of care.”

“Indeed we will,” added an orange-haired miss with enormous teeth and a flour-coated apron. “Come to my shop, my ladies. My biscuits are the finest this side of Edinburgh. Light as air, they are.”

Fiona looked over her shoulder at him, as if to ask permission. He thought to make a joke of that but bit his tongue. Vivi had admonished him to be nice, and so he merely smiled and caught Fiona’s wrist. He lifted it and pressed a tender kiss against the back of her hand. “The afternoon is yours, my lady. Do whatever you wish. If you see something you’d like to buy, you may. I’ll settle the accounts when we are finished here.”

She looked perplexed, as if his words were foreign, but she did not snatch her hand away. Then, just as quick as he had spoken, Alyssa giggled and pulled his wife in the direction of the baker’s shop. He watched them go, Fiona’s dark-red curls shiny amid the muddy browns and dull yellows tucked beneath the modest caps of the other women.

Old Tom approached, grinning wide in spite of an alarming lack of teeth. “You do me an honor, my lord. You know my place is right this way.”

With a final glance toward his retreating wife, Myles turned to follow his clansmen to the inn. He hoped the business for today would be simple and quick. He was in no mood to linger over trivial matters of runaway sheep or one man’s goat getting into another man’s garden. He was here today to demonstrate a good show of faith, to build the clan’s confidence in his wisdom and sense of justice in the absence of his father, but mostly, he wanted to be done with all that and follow his wife into the baker’s shop and feed her sugared pastries.

He shook his head against the vision. That girl was a ridiculous distraction.

Settled at the taproom with a mug of ale, Myles sent out old Tom to spread the word he was ready to hear of any grievances or requests his townsfolk might have. His hope for a quick afternoon was quickly dashed as a line formed outside the taproom. He took a hearty gulp of the ale and signaled Tom’s wife to pour him another. Then he called in his first case.

There were complaints about a randy bull that continued to get loose despite the farmer’s best efforts to contain him, a plea for funds to repair a leaky roof over the gristmill, and a dispute over whether a man should be charged for bacon stolen by his dog. The last issue of the day was a man asking permission for his daughter to wed a Mackenzie. Myles consented, for the Mackenzies were a good sort, and he could not resist the girl’s pleading eyes as she peeked at him around her father’s shoulder. The father seemed relieved, and the day’s business ended on a happy note.

Myles drained his cup, thanked the innkeeper, and went in search of his wife and sister.

He meandered down the lane, back toward the square, wondering how they’d spent their morning. With Alyssa as his emissary, no doubt the two of them dawdled over pretty ribbons and baubles and perhaps another gown or two. His coffers would be the lighter for it, but if it provided a means to an end and a more malleable wife, then it would be well worth the funds. This he pondered as he walked and wondered at his sudden sentimentality, for he realized it was not simply peace he sought with Fiona. He did indeed wish her happiness. It seemed, from the little she’d confessed of her past, she’d known little of pleasure or joy, while he’d had an abundance, more than enough to share. He chuckled
to himself and thought perhaps the ale had taken a toll, but he’d had only a cup.

“My lord,” came a voice over his shoulder.

He turned to see the goldsmith standing in the door of his shop.

“Yes?”

“My lord, I wonder if I might invite you in and show you something your lady admired. If I may be so bold to say so, it would make a fine wedding gift.”

Ah, so the little minx had been looking at shiny baubles. He went into the shop and was promptly shown a gold necklace of fine craftsmanship. At the center was an emerald, much the shape and color of the ring Fiona now wore. It was an exquisite piece, and the price was beyond reasonable.

Myles looked at the clerk. “Are you sure she liked this one?”

The man nodded. “Quite certain, my lord. She even tried it on, and may I say, it looked even more beautiful on her lovely throat.” He cleared his own.

“Why didn’t she buy it?” Myles asked.

The shopkeeper flushed. “She said it was far too expensive, although the Lady Alyssa assured her it was not.”

Myles smiled. ’Twas just the thing to bait a hook, shiny and alluring. He’d show Vivi he knew how to fish, for women were swayed by jewels. Even he knew that.

“I shall take it.”

The smith’s eyes sparkled like the jewels. “Very good, my lord. Thank you, my lord.”

They finished their transaction, and Myles went on his way, now in search of his bride with a fine gift to offer.

He made his way to the square, and just beyond it, he could see the hillside rising up beyond the edge of the village. And
there, sitting upon blankets, were dozens of women, with children all around. The sound of their chatter carried on the breeze. It seemed his lady had joined in on a picnic, for surely she was with them.

He tucked the bag containing the necklace inside his doublet, for he’d do well to save this gem until they were alone. Perhaps she’d reward his generosity with a kiss. The thought warmed him as much as the fast pace he kept.

Up the hill he went and spotted his wife, sitting on a plaid next to his sister, along with a dark-haired girl whose name escaped him. Fiona leaned back, propped on her palms with her blue skirts puddled around her like a satin pond. A little girl of six or so was weaving flowers into her hair.

His gut twisted, not from exertion, but from the vision itself. His wife, with a chubby-handed child in attendance. Fiona looked so happy, smiling at something Alyssa said, then tipping back her head and letting loose a full-throated laugh. A flower floated down from her hair to the grass. She picked it up and sniffed its aroma before handing it back to the child.

All around, children played, running in patterns and giggling, while their mothers chirped like happy sparrows. The image blessed him, for these were his people, and they were well cared for. He was proud and silently vowed that, when his time as laird truly came, he’d see that they remained as prosperous.

Fiona had yet to notice his approach, and when Alyssa caught his eye, he pressed one finger against his lips to silence her.

But his wife’s words stopped him. “My little sister is so much like you, Alyssa. How she makes me laugh. At least, she did until I had to leave her behind.”

Alyssa patted Fiona’s hand. “Then we must bring her to Dempsey for a long visit.”

He stood a moment, his chest thumping in a most peculiar fashion. She had a sister? How had he not known this?

He cleared his throat, and Fiona looked at him in surprise, her cheeks flushing red as if she’d been overheard saying something much more scandalous.

“Ladies.” Myles tipped his head. “May I join you?”

Fiona licked her lips and fussed with her skirts, but his sister smiled brightly.

“Of course. Please do.” Alyssa moved over, making a space for him next to his wife.

He settled down between the women and tried to catch Fiona’s gaze, but his wife seemed intent upon twisting the ribbon in her hands and in no mood to welcome him. He leaned down over her lap and looked up at her so there was no avoiding him.

“How was your afternoon, my lady?” he asked, and sat back up.

“Fine, my lord.”

He tugged at the ribbon she held. “Did you buy this?”

She shook her head, still avoiding him. “No, ’twas a gift from one of the children.”

He looked around. “Which one?”

She pointed. “That lass over there, with the braids.”

He saw the girl running circles with a scampering group of children all about her age. Seven or eight years old, he imagined.
And how old is Fiona’s sister?
he could not help but wonder. But his wife had turned her head in the other direction, and so he tucked the question away, along with a list of others.