A Highlander’s Homecoming (33 page)

“To be yer wife,” she sobbed, unable to stop the tears at this point.

“And you will be.” He pulled back from her, wiping her cheeks with his strong fingers. “We’ll have a fine wedding here on the front lawn. Cate and Mairi put on grand affairs. What? Why are you crying even harder now?”

“I already wed the MacDowylt,” Isa blurted out. She wanted to ease into the news, but her mind and her mouth were working at odds with one another. “I said my vows to him in order to . . .”

“You dinna need to give that a second thought, love. I already know about it and why you did what you had to,” he interrupted. “I heard you tell Leah the story. It’s no in the least important now.”

He wasn’t listening. He didn’t understand.

“I’m a married woman.”

She blinked back her surprise, her tears drying on her face as he laughed! Laughed as if this horrible, horrible situation were something funny.

She tried to resist when he pulled her back into his arms, his chest still spasming with his chuckles.

“Oh, love, yer no a married woman. If anything, yer a widow.”

Pushing away again, she studied his beautiful smiling face for some clue as to the madness that possessed him.

“A widow,” she repeated. “And how would you ken that to be the case?”

“Because MacDowylt was a Mortal. A fine man, by my guess, based on the improbable spate of
luck
we encountered in our escape from Castle MacGahan, but a Mortal nonetheless. And I’ve yet to meet the Mortal who can live for over seven hundred years.”

“Seven hundred . . .” The future. Of course. Leah
had told her Robbie had lived in the future. It was the whole point of what they’d done.

“Aye. My condolences, Mrs. MacDowylt, but yer husband’s long dead.” He touched his lips to her forehead and then her cheek. “Yer mine, Isabella MacGahan, as you were intended to be from the beginning of time. All mine.”

He lowered her to her back, covering her with the warmth of his body, crushing his lips to hers.

Her mind soared to that wonderful place he took her when they kissed and her need for him crashed down over her, hot and heavy.

He lifted his head, obviously aware of his power over her, grinning like a madman.

“I’ve so many things to show you. So much yer going to enjoy. In fact . . .” His eyes lit up and his grin turned seductive. “Oh, I’ve a grand idea.”

He backed away, off the edge of the bed. Standing beside her, he began to unwrap the plaid he wore around his hips.

“Grand idea indeed,” she agreed, fumbling with the ties on her overdress.

“Arms up,” he ordered, and when she complied, he pulled the layers of her clothing up over her head and tossed them to the floor. “Thankfully here you’ll no be wearing so many things all at once. It will make life much easier on both of us.”

“Much easier,” she agreed breathlessly, not giving any thought to what he blethered on about.

As easily as he’d appeared to lift Jamie earlier, he picked her up in his arms and started toward the room where he’d taken the bandage.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“This is the master bathroom.”

Nothing in this chamber looked in the least bit familiar. A see-through box filled one side, and on the other a cabinet jutted from the wall, made of a fine, polished stone. Above the cabinet hung what had to be the largest, clearest, most wonderful mirror in the world. The largest one she’d ever seen before had been no bigger than the width of her two hands.

She felt her face heat as she looked at their reflection in that amazing mirror, a disrobed woman in the arms of an equally bared man.

He obviously noted her fascination with the mirror and set her on her feet in front of it. Standing behind her, he wrapped his arms around her, fitting his palms over her breasts and pulling her back up against him.

He dropped his lips to her neck, running his tongue from her collarbone to her ear while she watched his movements in fascination.

“Funny,” he whispered. “I thought that piece of glass good for nothing but my morning shave. Until now.”

He captured her eyes in their reflection and held them as he placed his hands on her shoulder and slowly slid them down her arms. Grasping her wrists, he lifted them above her head, draping her wrists over his shoulders.

Tiny chill bumps sprang up along the path he traced down her sides, his fingers so delicate, his touch feeling as if it rippled along her skin. From her breasts down to her stomach and back up again his hands skimmed along, igniting a pulse in her body that she felt to her toes.

His fingers traced the contour of her nipples, and she watched them pucker and harden as she felt her breasts grow heavy. It was as if the little circles he drew had the magic to change the very makeup of her body.

“I could look at you forever,” he whispered, his eyes dark with his need.

Grasping her waist, he turned her and lifted her at the same time, sitting her up on the countertop facing him.

The mirror must have lost its fascination for him because he stared into her eyes as he slid his hands under her bottom and pulled her toward him. The movement spread her legs apart and he fit himself into that opening.

The cold smooth stone beneath her bottom was a stark contrast to his heat pressing into her, and when he took her breast into his mouth, a magnificent pressure burst through her body, demanding more.

She wrapped her legs behind his back and pressed against him.

A noise sounded from somewhere low in his throat, part chuckle, part growl. As if her movement was all he’d waited for, he grasped her hips and drove into her, pulling her forward to meet each of his thrusts.

When her release came, it felt as though every muscle in her body spasmed it’s delight in unison. His release came almost immediately after, filling her as he clutched her body to his.

Her legs had become too heavy to hold up so she lowered them and they leaned there together, his head on her shoulder, each of them panting as if somewhere along the way they’d forgotten to breathe for several minutes.

“Nothing,” she managed to say at last. “Nothing could be more wonderful than that.”

He grinned, his manly pride obviously well pleased, and lifted her off the countertop and to her feet.

“As they say in this time, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.”

Leading her to the clear box in the corner, he pulled open the door and turned a handle, sending water spraying out.

She didn’t realize her mouth hung open until he dipped his head down for a kiss, darting his tongue into the opening.

“It’s called a shower, and the water is hot whenever you want it.”

She stepped inside and stood under the flow, warm water cascading onto her shoulders and down over her body. Surely this was heaven.

Or it was when he joined her under the spray of the water.

“You think yer going to like yer new home?” he asked, pulling her close to nibble on her earlobe.

“Without a doubt,” she breathed, all but losing her train of thought. “This is what I would call the perfect home.”

“Yeah?” He lifted his head and grinned at her. “It’s what I’d call the perfect homecoming.”

Home. Their home. Together.

He chuckled as he dipped his head for another kiss. “If yer sold on it now, just wait till you meet my dog.”

Epilogue
 

1293

“You believe the man?”

Malcolm MacDowylt strode down the dark hallway at his brother’s side. It was a legitimate question that Patrick posed.

“I do. The MacQuarries sent him with the message. They’d have no reason to tell us a falsehood and the rider says he looked upon the graves with his own two eyes.”

It saddened him to hear of Isabella’s death. And the warrior who had been her self-appointed guardian. Though their presence had been naught but a hindrance to him, he’d hoped that in engineering their escape he’d given them a chance for long life together. Apparently the injuries the warrior had suffered at the hands of Lardiner had been too great for him to survive.

“The lad as well?” Patrick’s question brought him back to the present.

“Aye. The child dinna recover from the beating, I suppose.”

“Bastard,” Patrick hissed, picking up his pace.

Malcolm placed a hand on his brother’s forearm. “He’ll be dealt with. Keep yer anger in check, Paddy. We’ve a plan to carry out.”

His brother nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself until they reached their destination.

“I only hope the worthless whoreson tries to run,” Patrick muttered, pushing open the door for Malcolm to enter.

Malcolm didn’t mind admitting, at least to himself, that the same sentiment had crossed his mind more than once in the last hour. His hands fairly itched to mete out some well-deserved punishment.

He nodded to the men who stood guard duty outside the room as he entered, stopping to verify all was as he’d asked.

Patrick had gathered everyone together in the laird’s solar—
his
solar—before coming to get him. Roland Lardiner lounged in a chair by the fire, with two of Malcolm’s best men on either side of him, of course. His lackey, Shaw, fidgeted in the corner, also guarded by two men.

The lovely Agneys had taken a seat near the wall, as far away from her father as she could get.

Malcolm opted to stand, Patrick at his left shoulder.

“I’ve called you here to share with you my decisions about yer future.”

“You’ve no right to be passing judgment on me,”
Lardiner snarled. “As Agneys’s father, I’m the rightful laird here. When she delivers the old laird’s male child, it’ll be me who sees to the lad’s training and welfare.”

“Truly?” Malcolm asked, managing to keep his voice light and pleasant. “Would you be seeing to his welfare in the same manner as you saw to the old laird’s?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lardiner asked, straightening in his chair

“Only that you murdered yer laird. Pushed him down the stairs, according to his granddaughter and her witness.”

“Her witness?” Lardiner sneered. “A child she claims saw this happen. And her naught but a madwoman at that.”

“Perhaps. But the lad survived the fire and told us of what he’d seen in his own words. And even had he not, since I married that madwoman a fortnight ago, I am forced to give credence to her word.”

“You did what?” Agneys made it almost out of her chair before she caught herself. “My apologies for my outburst, my laird. I had not heard any rumor.”

Lardiner glared, his eyes darting from person to person in the room. “And welcome to her you are. It will do you no good. When my Agneys delivers the old laird’s son . . .”

Malcolm had had enough of this.

“There will be no son. No bairn at all, as a matter of fact. Yer daughter is no with child.”

“You lie!” Lardiner yelled, attempting to rise from his chair but finding the hands of his guards holding him in his seat.

“No. You murdered yer laird too soon, Lardiner. And you’ll have to answer for that. Murder’s a premeditated breach of the king’s peace. The justiciar ayres will meet in a few months. We’ll make sure yer brought before them to answer for yer crimes.”

“I had no part in what he did to our good laird,” Shaw sniveled from his spot in the corner.

“No, I ken the truth of that.” As he’d hoped, the rat was ready to turn. “But you had a hand in the other deaths, did you no?”

“There were no other deaths,” Lardiner snarled.

“But there were. My good wife’s guardian, beaten before he was thrown into the pit, I believe? He dinna survive that. His death is on yer head as well as yer
master’s.”

“And the child,” Patrick said roughly.

“Aye,” Malcolm agreed. “The child who witnessed the old laird’s murder. Lardiner beat the boy severely and then you—” He smiled at Shaw, but he felt nothing even approaching humor. “You tried to burn him alive in my wife’s cottage.”

“I dinna ken the lad to be inside. I heard no screams. I told Master Roland. I heard no screams.” Shaw’s voice became more frantic as he pleaded his case.

“And if you had, would it have made a difference? My own brother tells me you were about to put my wife and her guardian to the sword when he arrived.”

The man looked around the room as if desperate to find a single ally. He would find none here.

“And the old woman here at the castle?”

“I had nothing to do with Auld Annie. That was Master Roland himself did that,” Shaw offered up.
“Strangled her with his own two hands. I stood witness to that.”

“Hold yer tongue, you fool,” Lardiner yelled, once again being held down in his seat.

“You stood witness,” Malcolm repeated, disgust turning his stomach at the murder of a helpless old woman. “But you did nothing to stop it.”

“Yer as guilty as that one,” Patrick all but spat at the man.

Malcolm held up a hand to stop his brother. All in good time.

“And he’ll stand before the justiciar ayres for his crimes as well.”

“You’ve a nerve,” Lardiner yelled. “As if yer above murder yerself. Did you no threaten to bring yer army down on the whole of the MacGahan in order to take over these lands?”

“It’s because of yer deceit we came here, Lardiner.” Patrick delivered his accusation with deadly calm. “You came to us two years back, claiming to represent the word of yer laird. Offering money you never paid for livestock we supplied. In his name, yer the one offered us title to the lands if yer laird failed to make payment. Did you no think we’d track you down?”