Highland Jewel (Highland Heroes #1)

Chapter 30

Not only the hall was filled for the wedding, but also the courtyard beyond—crammed with milling Scots who had come to celebrate the uniting of Leith Forbes with Ian MacAulay's long-lost daughter.

Lifting her gaze to skim the crowd, Fiona Rose realized there were plaids of a great many hues, representing more sects and clans than she could name.

From the window in her bedchamber, Roman waved, his smile bright as he stroked Silken, who sat on the ledge.

"Me lady." Gregor MacGowan bent over her hand, drawing her gaze from Roman as he kissed her knuckles with courtly tenderness. He looked hale and hearty, she noticed, judging his hand and skull with a healer's eye. "Tis a sad day indeed when I must give up me fondest dream to the laird of the Forbes." He straightened with a melodramatic sigh and a languid shake of his head. "Mayhap ye should have left me in the river for all eternity."

Fiona opened her mouth to speak, but in a moment Leith was behind her, resting his hand possessively on her waist.

"And mayhap ‘tis na too late to throw ye back in, lad," he said, but his tone, Fiona noticed, was light and tolerant.

Gregor nodded with a lopsided smile. "Had I na seen yer bride meself, Laird Forbes, I might be offended by yer words. But..." He shrugged. "Alas, I ken yer wariness and dunna envy the battles ye will needs wage to keep others from her."

Leith's back was straight, his eyes slightly narrowed, but he nodded finally, accepting the man's words. "Then let there at least be peace between us," he suggested solemnly, "so that me wounds may be fewer."

"Aye." Gregor nodded in sober agreement. "For yer lady, the fairy princess, there shall be peace. But na only betwixt ye and me. Between all the MacGowans and the Forbes." He lifted her hand again, and, placing one more kiss to her knuckles, one last glance to her face, he turned to mingle with the crowd.

"He is right, of course," Leith said with a sigh. "Methinks I will needs fight off every lad with moss upon his cheek to keep ye from their greedy grasps."

Fiona turned in his arms, feeling a pleasant shock as her breasts rubbed sensuously against his fine red doublet. He was regally dressed today in his ceremonial plaid and his bejeweled sporran.

"And would ye fight for me, my laird?" she murmured softly. "Or in truth would ye let them take me?"

For just a moment Leith remembered the grinding fear of seeing her empty bed, of racing through the darkness in search of her. Against his will his arms tightened about her. "Would ye have me throw ye over me shoulder and carry ye to our room like a trophy of war so that I might prove me feelings for ye there?"

"Nay, Leith," she murmured, embarrassed by the very thought. "I would not have ye act in such an unlordly manner. But truly ... in the past I have often questioned your sentiments."

"I would challenge the demons of hell for ye," he vowed huskily. "As ye well ken."

"Nay," she denied, lowering her eyes and reaching up to straighten a fold of his plaid where it crossed his wide shoulder. With some irritation she remembered that he had flatly refused to sleep with her until after the wedding, insisting that she needed the extra time to mend.

She lifted her left eyebrow with unconscious impatience, and coddling a bit of petty frustration, allowed her fingers to fall lower, touching his chest just where his doublet parted. She sensed the immediate tightening of his body and smiled sweetly up into his face. Mayhap this past week had not been so easy on his self-control either.

That thought brightened her already joyous mood. "In truth, I know not what ye'd do to keep me, my laird," she said, "for to my memory the only one ye have challenged is my father."

"As I have said," murmured Leith, grasping her seemingly innocent fingers in his own and drawing them abruptly from where they tormented his chest, "the demons of hell."

Her jaw dropped in a comic expression of offended shock. "Dare ye call my dear father a demon?"

"Aye," said Leith, his tone droll, "for even in his speechless state, the auld bastard knew I didna believe ye to be his kin. He knew I would do anything to bring peace between our clans."

"Even bring back an Englishwoman and claim her as his own flesh?" Fiona asked impishly, trying to pull her fingers away.

"Aye." Leith tightened his grip on her hand. "Even that. But in the end it didna matter, did it?

“'Twas fate. I could na avoid getting the auld ..." he stopped his words at his bride's stern expression and found a more acceptable term for his newly acquired fatherin-law. "The auld ... laird's daughter."

Fiona shook her head, forgetting for a moment her attempt to make him as frustrated as she. "Can it all be true?"

Leith smiled down into her faraway expression, loving her with an intensity that made his heart ache. "Do ye call the abbess a liar?"

"Nay!" She said the word quickly, before she realized he but teased her. "Nay," she said more softly, shaking her head at his dry wit. "I but marvel at the twist of events. Why did she never tell me of my heritage?"

Leith pulled her against his chest and gazed over her bright coiled hair. "Yer mother begged her na to, lass. An Englishwoman begging an Englishwoman to save her bairn from the awful Scots. Ye canna blame her for trying to keep ye hid. Then when the Gunthers lost their wee daughter, it must have seemed like the divine will of God that they give ye to them to raise." He paused, remembering the fiery fairy princess by the lochan, the mesmerizing beauty who still haunted his nights, more than ever this past week. "And mayhap it was the Lord's will, lass."

Fiona raised her chin, looking into his strong, beloved face.

He shrugged. "Who is to say what would have come about had ye been raised as a Scot. Mayhap, if ye had not survived the fever that took yer mother, ye would na have lived out the same disease that caused the Gunthers' deaths. And mayhap too," he said, "without the life ye had, ye wouldna have grown into the woman who could steal me heart."

"And have I, my laird?" she whispered. "Stolen yer heart?"

"Aye," he answered without hesitation, "that ye have, lass. As I think mayhap the auld abbess knew ye would."

"Surely not," objected Fiona in disbelief. "Never would she have allowed me to leave the abbey had she thought I would be so tempted by yer... shameless advances."

He chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his throat. "Mayhap she knew what a poor nun ye would make, lass, and only wished to be rid of ye."

Fiona tried to look offended, but finding she had no talent for acting, let a grin lift one corner of her mouth. "Perhaps 'tis true. I was meant for other things." Their eyes caught, sparking on contact.

"Such as?"

"I canna guess," she answered breathily.

"I could na have lived if Dermid's arrow had taken yer life, lass. Knowing it was me own fault would surely have kilt me."

"Yer fault?" she questioned, still lost in his eyes.

" 'Twas me fault ye were here in Scotland. I should have cared for ye better. Na have let ye—"

"Leith." She gave up the battle for her hand and lifted the other, placing it against the hard plane of his chest where she could feel her cross beneath his shirt. "Ye cannot do it all, for ye are only one man, and cannot expect to care for everyone—to know each child's needs."

He scowled, knowing the pain his mistakes had cost her, wee Roman, and Harlow. His jaw tightened. Without Harlow, Fiona would have died, lost her life beneath the evil of Dermid's weapons. Poor, stubborn Harlow, always mistrusted, while his heart was strong and loyal.

“Too many mistakes," Leith muttered, shaking his head. "I canna afford the mis—"

"Leith," she reprimanded him, scowling up into his face. "Ye flay yerself unforgivingly. Why?"

"Because I am laird," he said, firmly. "Because they need me. And I must na fail them."

"Fail them?" She shook her head. "Hardly that, Forbes. No father could care more."

"Aye." He nodded. “I care. But 'tis na—"

"Shush," she commanded, catching a movement in the crowd and motioning wordlessly toward it. “I think there are others with different opinions."

From the sea of faces, Harlow came. He walked a bit stiffly up to them with young Hannah by his side.

Fiona felt Leith straighten slightly, a subtle indication of his guilt.

"Me lady." Hannah bobbed a curtsy, her bonny face alight with joy. "Me laird. We wish ye much happiness on this, yer wedding day. And to thank ye..." She paused, glancing up into her bridegroom's face. "... for yer words to me father."

Leith did not smile, but Fiona felt him relax somewhat. "I but told auld Evander the truth concerning Harlow," he admitted. "The theft of a few apples did na seem so terrible a crime to him when he realized the lad but wished for yer notice." He nodded solemnly. "In truth, I would have done far worse to get the attention of me Lady Fiona."

His eyes met with the lad's, whose gaze was dark and just as sober as his laird's.

"Loyalty and bravery grant their own rewards, lad." he said.

There was silence between the two men for a moment, then, "Ye have given me me fondest desire, me laird," said Harlow quietly, gently squeezing Hannah's hand but holding his gaze on Leith's. “I, too, wish to thank ye. And..." He lifted his chin slightly, as if finding it hard to use the words he'd so rarely said. "And ask forgiveness of yerself and yer lady for me... shameful conduct."

"Nay," Leith said softly. "Tis I who should apologize, for na seeing yer true mettle. For na finding ye a better home to foster in."

"But had things been different," said Harlow, "I may na have won bonny Hannah's heart. And so I thank ye. For her hand." He nodded once. "And for the post beneath the auld horse master."

For the first time Leith smiled. "Beinn willna let just any man ride him. Although I find he has a weakness for the lasses," he added, looking down at Fiona, "I knew ye had a special way with the steeds to ride him as ye did."

"Aye," Hannah said shyly. "He does that. He'll make a grand horse master himself someday."

"Hannah," her husband scolded. "We dunna know that I will be granted that position until—"

"Nay, lad. I doubt na yer ability, young Harlow. Nor yer loyalty," Leith said, thrusting forth his hand to have it grasped by the other.

"We owe ye much, me laird," murmured Harlow huskily.

"Nay," countered Leith, pulling Fiona slightly nearer and nestling her against his chest. " 'Tis I who owes ye—for the safekeeping of me heart."

"Harlow," Roman called, skipping through the crowd, Dora weaving behind him, "ye promised to... Oh!" He stopped, his small face alight, his mop of bright hair falling over one eye. "Me laird. And me lady." He reached out, gently touching Fiona's hand. "Ye look specially bonny today. Like a fairy princess."

Fiona smiled, turning her hand to hold his. "And ye look like a ray of sunshine, Roman," she said softly.

He laughed aloud, his face breaking into a gap-toothed smile. "There is much sunshine," he said, squeezing her hand with both of his now. "Since ye arrived."

"Aye," agreed Leith solemnly, but wee Roman had already had his fill of sentiment and was ready to be off.

"Will ye need me help in guarding her this day, me laird?" he asked.

"Nay, lad. I think I can manage this once. Take this time to play."

"Aye, me laird," he said happily, and reaching out, took the hand Hannah offered and skipped off through the crowd with the young couple at his side.

Fiona turned to her husband with a joyous smile. "The lad will not lack for love."

Leith nodded. "Tis well past time he knew some happiness."

"And 'tis because of ye," she added quietly. "Because of yer great leadership."

"He would never have known such hardship had I been a better laird."

Fiona shook her head. "He would never have known such joy had ye not been such a great laird."

"But—"

"Nay." She placed a gentle finger to his lips. "Ye are but one man, Leith. With a large clan to care for. None could do it better. But I will try to help."

'Try?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "Ye have done more for this clan than any other. Healing their wounds, making them look to ye for comfort."

"There's nowhere I would rather be, Leith. By yer side, helping with yer burdens. But there are others as well. Colin, for instance, now that he is wed, wishes to take a larger part in the care of the tribe."

"Colin wed," said Leith, shaking his head. "Tis hard to believe."

"I am glad to know he is ready to help shoulder the responsibilities," Fiona said. "For ye will be a busy new father."

"Father?" Leith asked breathlessly.

"Aye." Fiona smiled into his eyes. "We have much to celebrate."

"There shall be a bairn?"

"Aye."

"And ye didna tell me?"

"In truth I have not known for long, but even if I had..." She paused, dropping her gaze. "You have avoided my bed long enough. I was quite certain such news would not hurry yer arrival there, since ye only bedded me to produce an heir."

"Ye ken that is na true," said Leith huskily.

"Do I?" she murmured, intentionally goading him. "Ye are a man of few words, and I am but a simple lass. How could I know yer reasons?"

"Would ye have me proclaim me love to the entire assemblage?" he asked.

"Aye, my laird," she replied, her newfound brogue soft and sweet. "That I would."

Their gazes met and held then broke abruptly apart as he swept her from her feet and carried her in long strides to the top of the hall steps.

"Hear this, me people," he called, hugging her close to his chest as her face reddened with embarrassment. "This is me bride, the daughter of Ian MacAulay. With this union the Forbes and the MacAulays will be kin—united in peace. But I say this also." For a moment he gazed into her eyes, finding there that special love that would hold him forever. "Tis na her heritage that made me wed her, nor ‘tis it her heritage that makes me love her. Tis the woman herself. Whether she be MacAulay or Forbes. She is oursl"

A cheer went up—loud enough to rock the very foundations of Glen Creag.

Fiona's blush deepened as her name was roared and roared again.

"Well, hell," she muttered in discomfiture. "Ye might as well carry me to bed like that damned war trophy now."

"If ye insist." Leith grinned, and, turning, toted her up the stairs to their bed.