The Highlander's Servant: Book One of the Highlander Possession Series (13 page)



              Kirstin would have slept for days if she could. She would have slept away all the stress and misery that may come with the next few days. Instead, she was awakened by nature’s song of birds and a breeze. Lachlan’s heavy curtains blocked out the majority of the sunlight, but she could still see a few rays that made the fabric glow.

             
It was still early, much too early for another being to awake. She untangled Lachlan’s arms from around her waist, and was surprised at how toned each arm was to the touch.

             
It was not hard for her to sneak out of the room and into Lachlan’s study. She noted the pile of books that remained in the corner of his study and decided to put them back. As she had set them back in their rightful places, she noticed the leather-bound journal that Lachlan had revealed so much through. Opening it, she scanned the many lines that she had read before, taking interest to not only the content but Lachlan’s handwriting as well. He had mentioned in his journal of being educated, and the curves of his letters only proved this. She was so drawn to the text that she had not realized Lachlan had awakened.

“Good morn’ to ye.” Came his voice, causing her to jump a little.

She turned and smiled at him, “Good morn’.”

He eyed the open
ed journal within the palms of her hands but said nothing. Casually taking a seat at his desk, he crossed his arms and sat back. He studied Kirstin for a long time as she returned the journal to the shelf and strayed towards him. Lachlan’s dark eyes caressed her every move, hungrily taking in the curves at her waist of her petite form. Kirstin’s cheeks reddened as she noticed his inquisitive gaze.

She closed the distance between them, standing before him so that he could reach a calloused hand out to stroke the soft skin of her arm. Shivers raked Kirstin’s spine, and without warning Lachlan tugged at her arm. He yanked her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her middle. Kirstin’s feet barely touched the ground even as her back lay against Lachlan’s chest. She could feel his breath on her neck
, greedily taking in her sweet smell.

Lachlan began to kiss her after mere moments of teasing her with his lips. A moan escaped from Kirstin. It was a soft, quiet moan that exhilarated Lachlan into deepening his kisses. As if it wasn’t enough for him, Lachlan let his hands travel down her bare arms. After his fingertips touched hers, he trailed his hands up her middle. Lachlan had barely grazed her breasts when he felt Kirstin tense just the slightest. Not wanting to frighten her, he let his hands go back to explore her arms.

Kirstin shifted her weight against his lap, and Lachlan let out a needy groan when she did so. Her face reddening more, she became flushed and said, “I think it best that we stop while we can.”

Lachlan reminded himself of her innocence
, and he wanted to save that part of her for as long as possible. It was something to cherish about a woman, especially one as young and beautiful as Kirstin.

As she slid off of him, h
e did not retort, even though he had wanted to. She peered up at him with her long, blonde lashes and said once more, “I am sorry if I have troubled ye. Mayhap one day I shall no’ leave ye in such a state.”

“And mayhap,” Lachlan responded with a slight slant of his brow, “One day I will trouble ye in wanting me more.”

Kirstin grinned, and even choked on her laughter for barely a second before answering, “I dare say ye already have.” She walked away after that, leaving Lachlan more than content with her response.

Chapter Sixteen

Kirstin had been visiting the horses in the stables as Lachlan worked with training many men of his clan, when the news came. She knew that the news had come because she saw the same two men from before come around the corner and greet Lachlan. He had just finished sparring with several trainees, and it was evident that he was taken off guard because his gaze became much too focused, and his lips had tightened into a stern line, as he turned to face them.

Kirstin stopped brushing Lachlan’s black horse, ignoring the fact that he had only been partially tended to. She made no hesitance to walk to the back of the stables to where she saw Lachlan and the two men talking in the fields. As she made haste, she noticed a sharp turn in expression from all three of them. She knew by the frowns on their lips and the hardness on their faces, that bad news had been received.

In that instant, Kirstin had closed the distance and was looking between all three of them, “Well,” she rushed, “what is wrong?”

“
Naethin’.” It was an automatic response from Lachlan, who had turned to Kirstin so that she could make out the sweat on his brow and the tanning of his skin from sparring in the sun.

“Donna keep things from me.” She had snapped at Lachlan, and then turning to the two men she asked once more, “What is it? What is the news ye have brought us?”

The taller of the man hesitated, looking between Kirstin and Lachlan as if asking for permission to speak.

“Leave us,
Farrel.” Lachlan interrupted the taller man before he could speak. Then, turning to the shorter one, Lachlan demanded, “Ye too, Bradan.”

Farrel
gave a sorrowful look to Kirstin, and then followed after Bradan who had already made leave. Kirstin became frustrated, and stomped her foot for emphasis, and then looked up to her betrothed, “What is so wrong that ye canna tell me?”

“
Naethin’.” He repeated once more, making distance between them both emotionally and physically. It was as if Lachlan had immediately become detached from the world. He seemed almost exhausted as he walked away from his sparring men and back towards the manor, except he didn’t go to the manor. Instead, Kirstin followed him to the field where she had enjoyed many days reading. Why he chose to go there, she had no clue, but she did know that something was terribly wrong. Whatever Bradan and Farrel had told Lachlan had triggered something in him.

“Lachlan!” she shouted through the woods. She shouted his name constantly only seemingly to have no effect on him. The all too familiar sounds of a breeze swaying flowers and the scent of pollen soon assaulted her senses.

She stood by the end of the field acting as a boundary between the woods and the field, watching Lachlan who did not stop walking until he reached the very center of the sanctuary. Then, as if giving up all of eternity and every hope of life that it may have given him, he collapsed.

She did not know what to make of Lachlan collapsing amidst the field, and she stood there for a long time fearing the absolute worst of news. Calmly, Kirstin began to take slow and steady steps towards him. The wind blew against her yellow dress and made her golden locks dance behind her; yet her blue eyes remained fixed on Lachlan’s fallen form.

She sat down next to him, and observed him closely. He did not flinch when she pressed a small hand into his own, and it took several seconds before he squeezed it. It was a simple act of acknowledgement, and with it she mustered up the courage to ask him again, “What is wrong?”

             
Still, with no response she decided to change her words to something that tore at her own heart, “Are my parents all right?”

             
Lachlan flinched then, and opened his eyes to stare painfully into her own, “Yer mother is alive.” His words came off with the faintest hint of regret.

             
Kirstin dreaded her next words, “And my father?”

             
His gaze parted from hers just briefly before returning with that same regretful and almost betrayed look, “Nay. He has been,” Lachlan hesitated, showing such weakness when Kirstin’s expression became the same as his, “murdered.”

             
A sob instantly racked her small frame and she threw herself into Lachlan’s arms, burying her face into his shirt. If Kirstin had it in her to not believe Lachlan, she would have. She could not, though, as the events that had been happening lately made everything else inevitable. Except that they could, in fact, be avoided. Meeting Lachlan that first day, in town, could have been avoided. Graham could have been avoided. Her letter could have been avoided. Her letter. It was her fault. Kirstin believed that she was the one liable for the death of her father. Why was it that fate had deceived her? What purpose did it have to ruin not only her life, but the life of her beloved father over one letter that she had sent only out of concern?

             
Another sob, followed by one after the other as she realized that she was guilty and in a sense, Kirstin was the murderer. Why had she not seen it before? That all negative consequences from the past several weeks was entirely in her hands of control, yet she had not mustered a thought or even the courage to go against fate?

             
Kirstin was stupid, she was naïve, and she was guilty. Yet, no longer was Kirstin the innocent child who had stepped foot into the home of the all famous and most feared, Laird Bateson. No, she was now
guilty.
Stripped of her morality of right and wrong, for she had done wrong. The recognition of this only made her sobs harder, and she did not even realize that Lachlan had picked her up in his arms and was rocking her as if she were a babe.

             
“’Tis my fault.” Lachlan said, “’Tis my fault that yer father is dead.”

             
Shocked by his words, Kirstin looked up at him with her jaw slightly agape, “
How
is it yer fault?”

             
“I am selfish,” he drawled on once more, “I shouldna have brought ye here. Naethin’ would have happened if I had no’ brought ye to my home. Mayhap, yer father would still be alive if no’ for my selfish ways.”

             
Her tiny fingers caressed the side of his cheek, as her sobs turned into sniffling and stray tears, “Ye donna see it, do ye? ‘Tis
my
fault, and no’ yers. I could have avoided everything if I had no’ been so childish, so naïve.”

             
“No,” Lachlan retorted, “Yer wrong. Ye donna see it because of how innocent ye still are. I shouldna have taken what was no’ mine.”

             
Kirstin was bewildered, “But I am yers.” An epiphany struck her as she took his words as rejection, “I am yers.” She repeated once more as if to assure her own doubts.

             
Lachlan said nothing, and instead debated the thoughts that raced through his mind. Of course, Kirstin was meant for him but was she really his to begin with? In that instant of uncertainty, it was the first time he had considered not having Kirstin as his beloved. It was the first time he had questioned his destiny. Lachlan wanted so badly to believe that he deserved Kirstin, but he did not. He would never be good enough for her.

             
Kirstin did not take his rejection lightly. She believed that his words meant she was not good enough for him, even though he had meant the complete opposite. His words cut deep, breaking her heart, and like the first day of confronting something so obscure, she ran. She ran away from Lachlan.

Chapter Seventeen

              Lachlan was soon to follow after Kirstin. He instantly understood the miscommunication between them and how his words may have been comprehended. The last thing he had wanted to do was hurt Kirstin even more.

             
He easily caught up to her in the field, capturing her wrist and pulling her small form into his. He wrapped his arms around her as if embracing a small child who needed protection.

             
Her sobbing had started up again, but she did not try to shove him away. Kirstin felt overwhelmed by everything and had become more susceptible to overreacting but in a way, she was not. With the news of her father, the unknown of her mother, and the possibility of Lachlan rejecting her, there was no doubt that something else could go wrong soon.

So, she cried, her tears like the droplets of spring’s first rain. Lachlan pulled her to the ground once again, setting her in his lap and he cradled her once more.

“I did no’ mean that I donna want ye. I only meant that I am no’ good enough for ye. Kirstin,” he breathed into her hair, “ye deserve so much better and yer blind to see this.”

“Nay,” she choked through another cry, “We are meant for one another, and
yer the blind one if ye think otherwise.”