“Toran.” She sniffed. “He told me I’m too young to ken what’s best for me and to do what I’m told.”
“He isn’t always right, but in this, he might be.”
Caitrin’s mouth dropped open and her brows lowered.
He knew his words hit her like a betrayal, but what else could he say? Neither of them could stop this.
“Ye must be safe,” he insisted, putting his hand over hers where they clenched her reins. “I couldna bear to see ye hurt.”
“I dinna wish to leave,” she told him.
If only she’d said she didn’t wish to leavehim. But she hadn’t.
“I dinna wish for ye to leave, either, Caitrin, ye ken that. But perhaps ’tis for the best.” He let go of her and took a short step away, fully aware of how close the guard’s horse stood behind him.
If Caitrin knew the cold hatred that lived within him now, she’d kick her horse into motion and flee from him as fast as her horse could run. He was not the same lad he’d been, wrapping her injured hand and leading her away from danger in the woods. Now he was a man with a monster inside of him, a beast that wanted to throw back its head and howl its pain and fury to the skies. He’d never get over having to abandon picking the bramble leaves that, had they collected them, would have meant his sister still lived. He didn’t blame Caitrin. He swore vengeance on the men who’d killed his sister.
Caitrin’s hand found his cheek, much as she’d done in the woods, and Jamie’s heart stuttered again, filling his chest with agony as he recalled the night she’d put her arms around him to comfort him, and stayed in the chair next to his bed until he fell into an exhausted sleep. He would never hurt her. Would he? Not knowing scared him to his bones.
“Let’s go!” The guard captain shouted as the laird and Toran stepped away from him.
“Ye canna lie to me. Ye dinna believe sending me away is for the best—for me or for ye.” Caitrin’s lips twisted as if she attempted a smile and failed. “Thank ye for yer care of me,” she said, softly and simply, then she released him and followed her guard out the Aerie’s gates and down the tor, away from him.
Face burning from her touch, Jamie stood as the guards’ horses passed him on either side and watched her go. Whatever remained of the lad in him feared he’d never see her again, and worse that she’d never want to see him again. They would both be reminders for each other of his sister’s loss, and the terrible way she’d died.
Perhaps the distance between them was for the best. If he ever hoped to be with Caitrin and keep her safe, he needed time to get control of himself. He would not trouble her unless she reached out to him first. If she did not, he would know the truth—she had never been his, and his dream of a future with her had been just that, a dream.
A SEASON FOR LONGING
HIGHLAND TROTH (Highland Talents Series Book 6) explores the history and romance of Jamie Lathan and Caitrin Fletcher. A few years after that book ends, the Yuletide season is upon them. It should be a happy time, but Caitrin’s father, the Fletcher laird, is getting older and forgetful. And his wife, gone home to MacGregor for a visit, is late returning. And she’s not the only one who goes missing.
Enjoy this new story of Christmas miracles.
SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS, YULETIDE, DECEMBER 1521
Wind whistled down the chimney as Laird Fletcher struggled to pull a heavy tartan plaid over his withered leg. Most of the clan remained in the great hall after the evening meal. Deep mid-winter darkness had fallen hours ago and it seemed to Caitrin that no one was eager to leave the bright warmth of the hall or each others’ company.
“Let me get that for ye.”Caitrinset aside her needlework and stood. She hated to see her father fret, and in his condition, he must be kept warm.
“Wheesht, Daughter. I’m no’ helpless.” He righted the cover and settled back into his chair set before the merrily dancing flames in the Fletcher great hall’s hearth. “’Tis only that I feel in my bones a storm’s coming. Have we any word yet?”
His wife Lady Madeleine’s absence had troubled Fletcher all the weeks she’d been gone. As the highland winter deepened into unrelenting cold and dark, he seemed to shrink in on himself. Caitrin and her husband, Jamie Lathan, did what they could to keep him active and involved in running the clan, but it was clear the Fletcher’s days in charge were numbered, andthe burdens she and Jamie bore for him would soon be theirs in truth.
Caitrin frowned at her father, whose gaze had returned to the fire in the hearth. She turned to Jamie and shrugged. Da’s moods shifted like those of a bairn. Jamie had a way with him, and she wanted him to keep her da calm.
Jamie nodded and got up from his seat to stir the fire. “Ye need no’fash. Lady Madeleine will be home before ye ken it.”
“If the storm brings snow, she might be forced to turn back.”
“A little snow willna stop her returning to ye,” Caitrin told him.
Jamie set aside the wrought iron poker and turned to face his father-in-law. “And just think, soon the days will lengthen into spring.”
“Ach, there’s the innocence of youth,” Fletcher groused. “We’ve the darkest part of winter before us.” His eyes drifted closed. “Ah, but I recall the Beltane fires of my own youth,” he added with a lift to the corners of his mouth. “Such revelry after a long, bleak winter. ’Tis a shame I didna ken Madeleine in those days.”
Caitrin’s heart lifted. He’d thought of something that pleased him. “Ye wouldha’ made quite a pair.” And perhaps all the misery at MacGregor that had happened in the years since would not have occurred. She forced herself to set that thought aside. “And we’ve a celebration ye can enjoy much sooner than Beltane,” she reminded him.
“But what if she arrives too late?”
