Highland Song (3 page)

He swallowed, hard, growing dizzy yet again.

Och, God, but what was wrong with him?

Was he no better than his lecherous Da?

Now that Colin was duly wed, it seemed their father’s curse had infected Gavin. He suddenly craved her body like a drogue.

Gavin reminded himself to breathe.

“
I’m dressed,” she said.

Like he didn’t know. In spite of his best intentions, he was aware of every move she made.

“
Where d’ ye hail from, lass?” he asked her.

She smiled a wily smile, and her green eyes seemed a little greener in contrast with the green of his tunic. His eyes were green as well, but not so bright as hers. “Aboot,” she said. “My folk ha’e been aboot.”

Gavin frowned at her cryptic response.

Maybe she was poor and ashamed of her circumstances. Seana had survived out here in these woodlands, practically alone, for most of her life, without ever asking for help. She had cared for her ailing Da with no one the wiser. “What about your Da?” he asked, as she smoothed his tunic down over her hips, and lifted the hem to admire the embroidery his sister had stitched into it. A little bit higher and he would glimpse those fiery curls again.

“
I don’t know my Da,” she admitted, still inspecting the needlework.

“
And your minny?”

She shook her head as she looked at him, hardly seeming disturbed by the revelation.

Gavin inspected her more closely. God’s breath, but
everybody
had a mother and father! What would she have him believe? That she had simply materialized out here? “What about brothers? Sisters? Cousins?”

She nodded then. “Oh, yes! Quite a few of those,” she revealed, grinning winsomely. “But in a way, aren’t we are all brothers and sisters?”

Gavin shook his head, rejecting the notion to the core of his soul. Christ, but the thoughts that were cavorting through his brain right now weren’t the least bit familial—at least not at all the sort of thoughts a brother entertained about a sister—certainly nothing he’d ever contemplated about dearest Meggie.

The shadows in the forest lengthened with the growing twilight, and with them so did the number of blinking yellow cat eyes. Above them, the sky was the color of a ripe peach and the meadow painted lavender with blooming heather. A flock of blackbirds scattered from the trees and the wind blew softly, tousling her hair.

Gavin resisted the urge to cross himself as he stared at her face. With the gloaming her skin was so pure it appeared almost translucent. Her green eyes seemed alight with an inner brilliance. Her hair seemed to flow with the grace of a flame—all his imagination, he realized, because clearly she was flesh and blood standing right before him.

He sighed. “I canna help ye if ye willna allow it,” he reasoned.

A canny smile crept into her eyes, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking, and that in truth it had nothing to do with helping her find her way home. “Not every woman is a damsel in distress,” she enlightened him. “I can take care of myself quite well enough, but thank you.”

Apparently, not well enough to keep track of her clothes, Gavin thought, but he held his tongue. In truth, nothing about this woman bespoke distress—if anything, she was distressing him!

Behind her, the woods seem to stir, and the forest began to twinkle. Naught but bugs, he reminded himself. There was
nothing
magical about this moment—nor this woman.

She was just an ordinary lass.

With stunning emerald eyes that seemed to peer into his soul. And who came to him with no bluidy clothes and didn’t seem to care.

Somewhere in the great distance, a hunting horn blew and the woman stiffened, her head turning like a wary doe so that she could listen more carefully. Was it his imagination... or did those ears appear elfin... small and delicate. Och, but elves and pixies didn’t exist, and even if they did, who knew what the true shape of their ears. Everything he’d heard about faeries or brownies or banshees, he’d heard from his Grandminny Fia and there was no accountin’ for any of those stories, he knew.

Another horn blast, closer this time, and her expression turned fearful. “I must be going!” she declared, and before he could stop her, she suddenly sprinted away toward the sanctuary of the woods, her limbs moving with the speed and grace of a deer. Though she turned at the edge of the forest and waved. “Thank you kindly for the lovely dress.” she said, and added, blessing the house he was building, “Long may your lum reek!” And then she vanished without ever having shared her name.

And he noticed that she seemed to take all the cats along with her besides. Curious, but suddenly, not a one could be seen, despite that they had been skulking about all the day long.

Gavin stood scratching his head a long moment, staring at the place from where she’d both come and gone.

Daft girl; didn’t she know an English tunic when she saw one? He didn’t make it a habit of running around wearing woman’s gowns.

In all his days, he’d never met a stranger wench.

But she was gone now, and he was no longer in the mood to work. Time to forget all about women and faeries and cats, he told himself. Mayhap, if he hurried now, he could make it home in time to sup with the family.

He was halfway home before he realized that he was shirtless and that he’d left behind his flagon, his axe as well as the dagger his Da had given him.

He frowned, thinking that the girl had made him good and daft.

Best he keep the meeting to himself, lest they think he’d gone and gotten into Seana’s
whiskie
.

 

At home Gavin could hear everyone gathering in the hall to sup so he took the opportunity to run back to his chamber to snag himself another tunic before anyone could spy him running around half bared.

Luckily, his sister Meggie was no longer doing his laundry, and wasn’t likely to notice that the green tunic she’d sewn for him last year had suddenly gone missing. Alison, his eldest brother’s new wife, was too sweet to ever say a word, even were she to notice. But she wouldn’t. She was too busy trying to build Leith a proper home—not that Meggie hadn’t done so. In fact, Gavin couldn’t help but wonder how Montgomerie was faring with his warden of a sister. Like their grandminny, Meghan was a force to be reckoned with and like their Da, she had a temper as unpredictable as the Highland winds.

Och, but in the end, they had all been burdened with their father’s demons—even sweet Meggie.

Morosely, his thoughts centered on their father. The old man had only smiled ever when his cock was between a pair of thighs or his tongue was deep in a jug of
whiskie
. Not much else had pleased him. Gavin and Meghan, being the youngest, had mostly been spared his heavy hand, while Leith had borne the brunt of their Da’s temper.

As for poor Colin… his Da had dragged him out by the collar wherever he went carousing. As a result, his middle brother had learned the ways of women long before most of their peers had come out from beneath their minny’s skirts. It should have made for a poor husband, but Colin was surprising them all with Seana.

For his part, Leith drove himself and everyone else to death’s bloody doorstep in pursuit of perfection. Alison MacLean with her crossed eyes, was the last woman any of them would have suspected he would lose his heart to. And yet he had.

In fact, both his brothers had wed women who, while lovely, would be deemed by their father’s standards as less than perfect.

Gavin wasn’t necessarily drawn to beauty and in fact he believed beauty reared demons of another sort—had Meggie not suffered enough over hers? Like their mother and grandmother before her, his sister had borne the biting tongue of women for leagues. “Mad Meghan Brodie” they had named her, and only Lyon Montgomerie—a Sassenach—had ever had the balls to match wits with his canny sister. Gavin had to chuckle over that, for it seemed to him that, despite the claims that her husband was a beast on the battlefield, in his sister’s presence, Montgomerie was naught more than a hapless pussycat. And come to think of it, he wondered where all the cats had gone to today. They had simply disappeared.

Unbidden, his thoughts returned to the painted lady...

She was certainly beautiful, though not in a conventional way, however she wasn’t his, he reminded himself, nor was he looking to fill his bed. Nay, he had too many other things to concern himself with right now. He had not spent his entire life fighting his Da’s influences to succumb to them now. If, indeed, he ever did wed, he wanted a sweet Highland lass—not too beautiful, but pleasing to the eye—someone who was loyal and passionate and full of love. Someone who was soft-hearted and meek but strong in body with a song in her heart.

Anyway, he would likely never see the girl again. She’d fled without even telling him her name, and he doubted, despite her claim to rights, that she was from anywhere near these parts.

From the hall, the sound of voices and laughter drifted to his ears, but the female voices were new to this house. It filled him with a strange void. He sighed, giving his bower a long look. This house where he had lived his entire life was growing quite crowded. Everything was changing. He missed the fresh blooms Meggie had kept in his chamber... the way she had fluffed his pillow and kept the brazier burning in anticipation of his return. Now both his brothers had wives to warm their beds and breasts to lay their heads upon and his own room was dark and cold.

A sudden image of his painted lady came to mind… she was standing in the house he was building... the two of them preparing to sup together... her face aglow by the fire in the hearth and her wavy hair tied at her nape, like a fire bound by magik twine. Her lips turned gently at the corners and she laughed, the sound musical and free.

He blinked and the image disappeared.

He didn’t want a wife, he told himself and turned from his bower and from the vision, heading toward the hall.

Wafting from the same direction as the voices, the peppery scent of haggis teased the air. Gavin followed the scent, ready for a wholesome meal after a long day’s work.

This, in truth, was the one thing he sorely missed since Meggie’s marriage, and the one thing he would long for once he was gone from the manor: the dinner hour. For all his years, the family table had been filled with love—at least as long as his Da was not about—ornery bastard that he was. Gavin was determined never to become like the man who had sired him.

Belly grumbling, he walked in to the hall and found his brothers both already at table, staring mutely at their plates while Alison and Seana chatted endlessly across the table. The two wives seemed to have become fast friends, and their affection for each other seemed genuine. At least they would not be pulling at each others’ hair over the running of the house, Gavin mused.

“
Oh!” Seana said when she spied him.

“
Gavin!” Alison exclaimed. She leapt up from her seat next to Leith. “Let me get you a plate,” she offered.

Both of his brothers heads popped up and they shook their heads in unison, both looking horrified by the prospect of Gavin joining them.

Not quite understanding their warning expressions, Gavin took a seat beside Colin, confused, until he chanced to peer into Colin’s plate.

At the same time, Alison slid a full plate of mashed sheep’s pluck beneath his nose and a truer scent accosted him—a sour, peppery smell that curled the hairs in his nostrils. God’s bloody teeth, it looked nothing at all like Meggie’s haggis.

Meeting Leith’s gaze across the table, he spied the terror there, though his wife, now reseated at his left elbow seemed not to notice.

“
We’re so pleased you joined us at last!” Alison declared.

Seana nodded enthusiastically, shoving a spoon at him.

As for Colin... for the first time in recent memory, his brother seemed not the least inclined to meet his wife’s gaze. Gavin tried not to snicker, but then again, a glance down at his plate was enough to sober his expression.

Seana peered over Colin’s shoulder at him. “Alison taught me how to make haggis!” she revealed excitedly.

Leith cleared his throat. Something like dread settled in the pit of Gavin’s gut, and the continued looks of trepidation upon both his brother’s faces only deepened it.

Everyone was staring at him expectantly.

“
How was your day?” he inquired of them all, stalling.

“
Oh, wonderful!” Seana said.

“
Verra good,” Alison offered. “And yours?”

Both Colin and Leith had yet to speak and it seemed to Gavin as though the gook in their mouths had sealed their lips shut. He grimaced at the thought.

“
My goodness!” Alison declared suddenly, interrupting whatever Gavin was about to say—if anything at all—and leapt up from the table, exclaiming, “I forgot the bread!”

“
I’ll help!” Seana announced and bounded up after her.

The very instant both women quit the hall, both Colin and Leith spat out mouthfuls of gray muck onto their plates and jumped up from their seats. Plates in hand, in unison they dove for the fireplace, dumping the contents of their platters into the flames and racing back to their seats before their wives returned to the hall, bearing in a heaping plate of freshly baked bread.