To Catch a Highlander (25 page)

Ne'er back down from a compliment, an insult, or a conundrum. An honest woman knows there's little difference amongst the lot.

Old Woman Nora from
Loch Lomond
to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening

Hours later, Dougal stood beneath the over-hang of the barn, only a faint haze of smoke seeping out the doorway and disappearing in the rain. He rubbed his neck wearily. Damn the lightning. Damn it to hell, along with his own raw temper.

He closed his eyes, which burned still from exposure to the smoke and heat. The lightning had hit the barn dead center, splintering the major support beam and sending sparks into the dry hay stored in the loft. In no time at all, the entire thing was ablaze.

Thank God for the heavy downpour. Without it, the barn would have been lost.

Shelton
ran through the rain to join Dougal under the overhang. The groom wiped his face with a blackened hand, leaving streaks down his grizzled cheek. "The horses are tucked away in the shed. It's a tight fit, but they seem to know 'tis what's best for them."

Dougal nodded.

When Sophia had alerted him to the fire, he'd yanked on his breeches and boots, pulling his shirt over his head as he ran from the house. Thank goodness he hadn't run into Angus until a few minutes later, and by then, they were all too busy to do anything other than work together to save the horses.

Sophia had run out, too, Angus following. They were drenched to the bone within moments. Dougal had shouted at her to leave, but she'd refused, helping
Shelton
with the horses while Dougal and Angus worked to save the barn.

Dougal reached out and let the water from the roof pour over his hands, washing the grime and soot from his arms. "Thank you for your help,
Shelton
. The horses would have been lost without you."

"I was jus' doing my job."
Shelton
sent a sidelong glance at Dougal. "That was a sudden storm. I was layin' on me cot when it just seemed to burst out of nowhere."

Dougal didn't answer. He'd allowed his lust for Sophia to overcome his caution, and this is what had happened. He glanced at her bedchamber window, remembering her this evening—lush and passionate, stealing his breath and his control at the same time. It had been a night he'd never forget, and not just because of their incredible lovemaking. It was because he'd finally found a woman whose passion matched his own. A woman who leapt at a challenge as quickly as he did. A woman he could never have—because somehow, over the past week, a bond had formed between them. A bond he'd done his damnedest to avoid.

Worse, because of her lies, he'd unwittingly taken her innocence.

He gritted his teeth and said shortly, "
Shelton
, we'll be leaving with first light."

"That's what ye said yesterday. And the day afore that, and the day afore—"

"There will be no change of plans now."

Shelton
looked at the open barn doors, where smoke curled out to disappear in the rain. "It's a good thing the barn is yers already."

"None of this is mine. I lost it in the card game."

"Ha! So that's what tickled yer anger bone. I was wonderin'. Did ye lose the land, too?"

"I lost everything." Everything that mattered.

Dougal looked back up to Sophia's window and wondered if he should say good-bye. It would be polite, but… no, he couldn't do it. He'd just leave a note and send his man of business with a check to cover the cost of rebuilding the barn.

Damn his temper! Damn it to hell. He turned to
Shelton
. "Did you save our things from the fire? The tack room was engulfed when I arrived."

"Aye, I got most of our clothes as I went."

"Excellent. Angus said he'd have baths drawn for both of us so we don't have to sleep smelling like charred wood."

"That's generous of 'im,"
Shelton
said brightly. "Did he mention anything about food?"

"Yes. Mary is preparing some meat and cheese."

"Then that's where I'm headin'. Are ye coming?"

"I want to wait until the smoke completely clears and make sure the barn doesn't burst back into flames."

"Do ye want me to—"

"No." He managed a bitter smile. "If anyone deserves to stand guard, it's me."

Shelton
's brow lowered. "Me lord, ye didn't direct the lightning."

"Neither did I control my temper—and that is my responsibility."

"Me lord, ye can't—"

"Enjoy your meal. I will be fine here." At the groom's concerned look, Dougal added in a firmer voice, "Go!"

Shelton
sighed. "Very well, me lord. I'll be back after I've had a nibble."

After the groom left, Dougal went back into the barn. Rain still poured in from a huge hole overhead, and smoke curled along the floor. Fallen timbers, blackened and broken, lay scattered about, much like his pride.

Once he left, he would never look back.

From her bedchamber window, Sophia watched Dougal disappear inside the barn. She started to reach for the latch to warn him to be careful, but he wouldn't welcome such a gesture. He wouldn't welcome any gesture from her at all.

She'd seen Dougal's face during the fire and recognized the guilt he felt for causing it, because she felt the same way. She'd known of the curse and had purposefully pushed him to the limits of his control.

Blast it, if only she'd thought—But she hadn't, and because of that, Dougal was shouldering blame that was far more hers than his.

She'd yearned to talk to him, but whenever his gaze passed over her, his coldness had halted her. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd catch him alone, and then they'd talk. Perhaps she could make him understand why she'd made the decisions she had.

But now. As she watched him walk into the barn, her heart pressed heavily in her chest. He was leaving. She could see it in the set of his shoulders, the purposeful way he moved.

A tear landed on the back of her hand, which rested on the windowsill. She looked at it with surprise; she hadn't even known she was crying.

Lips suddenly quivering, Sophia turned from the window and threw herself onto her bed. There she let the tears fall, her growing sobs muffled by a mound of pillows.

Beatrice came to Red that night. As always, she slipped into his room when he was deep in a dream.

Ah, his lovely Beatrice! He never doubted that it was her, even when the light shining from her face obscured her features. It was enough to feel her presence, to hear her sweet voice as she whispered that she was watching over him and loved him still.

As always, whenever she came, Red felt a powerful mixture of pleasure and pain, of companionship and loneliness, of all he'd had and all he'd lost.

She drifted above his bed, her white robes fluttering, her golden hair touched with a halo of light just like in the pictures in his mothers old Bible.

"Red." Her voice rushed over him with the heat of longing and the coolness of pure water.

Though he knew he couldn't touch her, he couldn't help lifting his hand. "Och, Beatrice. I've missed you."

A smile touched her tender lips, and she sighed. "I can see you do. You've been a busy man this last month."

She knew he'd lost the deed and her jewels. Swallowing hard, he said, "My love, I made a mistake, but I was just trying to fix
—"

"Our daughter is not happy."

There was accusation in the soft voice.

"
Aye, she's suffering. This man, Dougal MacLean
—"

"The one who won my house from you in a card game?" A faintly waspish note was in Beatrice's voice now.

Red winced. "Yes, yes. I can see you know all of that, so I won't bore ye by repeating it."

Her arms crossed over her angelic robes. "Why is our daughter not happy?"

Red shifted uneasily. "I don't know."

"Our daughter must go with MacLean."

Red blinked, though his eyes were still closed. "But
...
he left two days ago
."

"And how long has Sophie been moping about?"

"
Since the barn burned down, the day before yes
—
oh." Red considered this. "I would think the same thing, but she seems angry whenever I bring up his name
."

"She's hurt."

"
I don't know. She hasn't said two words about him since he left. My love, I don't mean to question your judgment but
—"

"Do you see this?" Beatrice pointed to the shining halo over her head, a spark of amusement in her shimmery voice.

"Aye," he answered, his own lips trembling in a smile.

"Then stop your blathering, you foolish man. Our Sophie must follow her heart, and that means she must go after MacLean."

Red's smile faded. Follow her heart? And go after MacLean? "Beatrice, does that mean
—"

But when he raised his eyes again, she was gone.

Red awoke with tears streaming down his face, yet his heart sparkled. If he tried very hard, he could hear Beatrice's voice now, sweet and cultured, her face so like their dear Sophia's, heart-shaped with a rosebud mouth and bright blue eyes, skin of cream, and masses of golden hair. Beatrice had been a beauty, there was no doubt about it. What's more, she'd left behind a powerful father, several grand mansions, and dozens of servants, all for him. She'd always said it had been no hardship to leave behind her easy life and soft living, but it had taken Red years before he truly believed her.

He'd met Beatrice's only surviving parent once. After the wedding, her father had come to the inn where they were staying, newly wed and filled with love. He'd come in a carriage and eight, the most beautiful horses Red had ever seen pulling a carriage so fine a prince would lust after it. Beatrice's father had not come to give them his blessing but to tell his daughter in no uncertain terms what he thought of her behavior.

White-lipped and eyes sparkling, Beatrice had listened to her father's words, and then, with the air of a princess, she had taken Red's arm and dismissed the old man. Red-faced with anger and vowing never to speak to her again, the pretentious fool had stomped away.

Red had watched that magnificent carriage pulling out of the innyard, awed that even the trappings on the horses were covered in silver and gold. Beatrice had laughed, saying a carriage was a carriage and a bossy old man was a bossy old man. But the visit had made Red treasure her love all the more. No woman was ever more loved, no man more blessed—especially after Sophie came to them.

There had always been a special bond between Sophie and her mother, and Beatrice had been fiercely protective of her daughter. Now Beatrice had come to him with a message, one he dared not ignore. The whole mess put him in a bit of a quandary, for he didn't know enough about MacLean to entrust Sophie to him.

Red scowled. To take such a gamble with his own daughter? It was a damned shame he wasn't well enough to travel, or he'd take her to see MacLean himself.

He turned his head and looked out the window, where a heavy rain beat down steadily. "Beatrice," he whispered. "Are ye sure?"

In the silence, he thought he heard her dear, sweet voice whisper back, "You, you lummox."

And in the darkness, smiled.

Morning finally arrived. Just as she hadn't the two nights before, Sophia hadn't slept more than an hour or two at most. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw MacLean's blazing look of… contempt? Anger? She was no longer certain. All she knew was that her heart had broken into pieces.

Downstairs, she heard Mary's voice raised against Angus, something about wet firewood. Outside, the steady beat of rain muffled any hopes of cheer. Sighing, Sophie rose, washed her face and hands, and put on her clothes. Every movement was an effort, and when a slight twinge reminded her again of the library and MacLean, she pressed her hands to her eyes and tried to think of something else.

She resolutely left her bedroom, vowing to leave her sadness behind. Chin held a smidge too high, she plastered a smile on her face and entered her father's room.

He'd been looking pale after his injury, but today he appeared different. His eyes had their old sparkle, his face was relaxed, and a genuine smile curved his lips.

"You look to be in fine fettle," she said, bending down to kiss him. "You didn't look this youthful when you were well."

He chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling up at her. "Perhaps an angel healed me last night."

She laughed. "That and some pixie dust, and you'll be up by tomorrow." She took a seat beside his bed and smiled. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine, fine." He searched her face. "Lassie, you look exhausted."