Page 16 of Highlander’s Torn Bride

They stared at each other silently for a few moments, each breathing heavily while they tried to regain their composure. Eventually, Alexander leaned back, pulling her back upright, and almost immediately forcing her from his lap.

They dressed for bed silently, as if any word they said now would only be testing their resolve. When they lay together on the mattress, Alexander scooted as far to one edge as he could get, while Margaret did the same on the opposite end.

“Goodnight, lass,” he said.

“Aye, goodnight,” Margaret replied, turning so he wouldn’t see her as she tried to push the tears back down, which was proving to be harder than it had ever been before.

4

Ann sipped slowly on the goblet of wine, her eyes scanning the remaining crowd in the pavilion. All that was left were the exceptionally drunk or, in her case, those who were not yet ready to part with those so rarely seen.

Ann’s brother had left the household in Thurso nearly five years ago, taking up a position with one of the Gunn landowners just outside of Braemore. Since then, she had only seen him on those rare occasions that brought the clan together. So far, those occasions had only been funerals. A wedding, with so much cheer around, was a nice change.

“More wine, Ann?” he asked, raising a pitcher and then frowning when she shook her head.

“You can stop worrying about Lady Gunn,” he said once his own goblet had been refilled. “She left with her new husband.”

“Yes,” Ann said, thinking back to the sight of Alexander leading a positively green Margaret from the pavilion. “Tis the circumstances, though.”

“Tis what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, his blue eyes flashing with amusement. “You tie your hair back so tightly, perhaps now is the time to let it down and celebrate, for once. I saw you dance with that other Mackay lad earlier. I think he may still be floating around the pavilion.”

Ann blushed. She had simply introduced herself to Jonah Mackay, Alexander’s younger brother, and he had taken that as an opening to pull her onto the dance floor. No one in the pavilion had let her live it down since. It had been one thing for Margaret to marry a Mackay, for at least that had been the order of the queen. But if Ann did it by choice, that would be an entirely different matter.

“John,” she growled in warning before he could insert another jibe, but her voice was not currently the one calling his name the loudest. Ann looked over her shoulder, and, sure enough, there was Gavin, striding toward their table with an unsettlingly empty expression.

“Gavin,” her brother said, clasping the other man’s arm in greeting. “How long has it been?”

Ann tuned out the exchange of pleasantries. Nothing Gavin said had ever been interesting to her. Until, that is, her brother asked, “Well, what does Laird Gunn have planned for ye and the rest after this? This wedding looked expensive. I imagine he needs someone to rustle up something extra to compensate.”

“Aye, one would think, but tis the opposite. He wants the dust to settle from this before we do anything more. Which is fine by me, for I have some personal matters to attend to.”

“Oh? What might that be?” John pressed.

“I need to right some wrongs.”

“Do ye need any help? Ach!” John yelped.

“Ye alright?” Gavin asked.

“Aye, just got bit by a spider or something,” John said, formulating the lie quickly.

But, when Ann looked up, Gavin’s eyes were on her, as if to make it clear that he knew it had been a sharp kick from a sister, and not a spider that had caused the disturbance.

“Well, thank you for the offer, but no. Since none of us are riding out anytime soon, I have a few friends who have already agreed to help. Though I thank ye for the offer.”

“Aye, well find me if ye change your mind,” John replied, this time moving his legs out of the way before Ann could attack.

Gavin nodded and grinned at them both before leaving the siblings to themselves once more.

“What is wrong with ye, wench?” John asked, pulling his leg up against his chest so he could rub his sore shin. “Do ye really still detest him so much that I canna even be polite with the man?”

Ann looked over to Gavin, who had seated himself with his usual group now, most of whom were so deeply in their cups that there was no way they would be able to stand. The remaining women in the pavilion were tracking him, whispering encouragements to each other until a few finally had the daring to approach him.

It was how it always was around Gavin. He wasn’t tall, but he was not short either. And, what he lacked in height, he made up for with a muscular physique and dark eyes that Ann had sometimes thought to be bewitched, for they had always trapped the gaze of any they managed to catch.

Gavin could woo any woman in this room, but he wouldn’t. The lad had been obsessed with Margaret since they had been children, chasing after her whenever he caught sight of her shiny, copper hair. Margaret, the sensible girl that she was, had built fortifications strong enough to withstand him. Ann had thought that was going to be enough for a lifetime. What she hadn’t realized was that the stones of that defense had been Margaret’s father.

Gavin had seen the very moment that the defense fell, crumbled into pieces after the passing of Margaret’s father. The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to give her quiet support, allowing her the choice of rebuilding the defenses once she was strong enough. But Gavin had never been a gentleman.