Page 23 of Highlander’s Dangerous Love

“How long have ye had such feelings?”

“Nearly two years,” she answered.

The pieces fit together in Bryce’s mind. That matched the timeline of Colin’s behavior. He’d stopped bedding women at the tavern around that time, and had been less inclined to go out in general. Although he already knew the answer, he still wanted to hear Gemma’s perspective.

“Am I…correct in understanding that…he was the lucky lad from whom you expected a betrothal?”

She nodded ruefully, tears sliding down her rosy cheeks once again.

“Oh, Gemma. I’m so sorry,” he said, holding her even closer.

As outwardly sympathetic as he seemed, he was seething inside. The both of them had kept this from him for nearly two years. And his mother had kept her affair secret for…God knows how long. He was tired of being kept in the dark. And as the laird’s son, he had certain privileges and duties. It was only right that he should marry Gemma, the prettiest lass and also a good friend. Now, in her time of need, he would make sure to comfort her in whatever way possible.

“I’ll always be here for ye,” he whispered into her hair that smelled of lilac and fresh soap.

And he would be, especially as her husband. It was all going according to plan.

When Gemmaand Muriel returned home that evening, it was drizzling. It had poured rain all mid-morning and well into the afternoon, making the earth soggy and petticoats sopping with mud and water. Gemma was only too glad to take off her shoes as she entered the house.

“Smells like supper soon,” Muriel said, lifting her nose in the air.

“I dinnae ken about ye, but I’d like tae get out of these wet things ‘afore I catch a real cold and die,” Gemma said. Honestly that last part did not sound so bad. She had reached that dull part of grief where nothing mattered. If she went to sleep forever, she’d be happy.

“People dinnae die of colds,” Muriel said sternly, as a way of scolding Gemma for such free talk.

“Perhaps I shall be the first,” Gemma said dryly. “In any case, this is uncomfortable. I’ll go an’ change.”

“D’ye need help?”

Gemma shook her head.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you though, Muriel. Ye ought tae change as well, at least for the sake of comfort.”

With that, Gemma trudged up the stairs, carrying her muddy shoes in one hand. She’d clap them together out of her window to rid them of mud. She sighed as she shut the door behind her, dropped her shoes and sagged against the wall. Today had taken a lot out of her. As sad as she was about Colin’s departure, it would not do to look so forlorn at what was supposed to be a celebration for someone else. Jenny’s baby was due any day, and Gemma could not let her own heartbreak cloud someone else’s joy.

As she unlaced her bodice and began to shed her wet clothes, she thought of Bryce’s odd words to her in the castle — that he’d never leave her like that. How odd, as if he were pitting himself against Colin. They were brothers in arms. Surely that had to mean something. Gemma knew there was a strong, special bond between soldiers. Battle did horrid things to men, but it strengthened their bonds. She’d heard Captain Frazier talk about such things many a time.

As she pulled on a clean nightdress and a dressing gown to go over it, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, perched on her pillow. How had she not seen it before?

As she braided her long locks into a side braid for the evening, she noticed it was a beautiful seashell — white with a bluish hue, polished to perfection. Tied to the shell were two small pieces of parchment. Gemma’s heart thudded in her ears. Who had been in her house? Clearly, it was a message of some sort…slowly, she picked up the shell and unfurled the first piece of parchment. She gasped as she recognized Colin’s handwriting. It was clearly written in haste, but still, she appreciated it. As her eyes scanned the parchment, tears welled up once more. This was perhaps the most she’d ever cried in her life — would she even have tears to cry after this?

Dearest Gemma, my love,

I am so sorry I had to leave you. Please believe me when I say it was not my wish. The powers that be determined our fate otherwise. But rest assured, I will come back for you. I will find a way; I will make it so. Wild highland horses cannot drag me away from you for too long.

Please stay strong, like the woman I know you are. You are kind, strong, capable, and if anyone can weather the storm, I know it is you.

Do not forget me. I wrote that poem from a place of love, but I now realize it is not the most wonderful thing to read, so I have included a much nicer one here. I had such feelings about that night at the beach, I simply had to write them down. Keep these, with this seashell as remembrances of me. I have taken the liberty of stealing a handkerchief from you — you can tell your mother you lost it. You were not at home earlier, so I wrote this letter in haste and snuck through your window.

I love you so much, my darling. Do not lose hope. We shall be together again.

Much love and tender affection,

Your Colin

Gemma’s eyes blurred as she put down the letter, and turned over the seashell. She picked up the next small piece of parchment which had been enclosed with the letter, and read through it. Her heart warmed at reading it — it was indeed a much sweeter poem, but it did invoke such a deep sense of nostalgia:

Beneath the stars that glisten bright,