Page 27 of Highlander’s Dangerous Love

“Ye look like a prize chicken,” her brother, Hamish, commented after all the initial fuss from her parents was over.

Ian, the eldest, knocked Hamish on the head lightly.

“She doesnae need tae hear that now, ye dolt!” he hissed. Hamish growled and mumbled something under his breath, but they did not dare fight, especially not in the presence of their father.

“I think ye look well,” her other brother, Lyle, said.

“Stop butterin’ her up! It’ll only go right tae her heed. She’s tae be Lady, after all. Imagine how she’ll order us around then,” William said.

“Lads, that’s enough. Behave yourselves at the feast. William, if I hear that yer chasin’ after skirts again, I’ll tan yer hide, an—” the family descended into their usual chaos. Gemma only smiled faintly. After her brothers had been apprenticed out to various trades, it was rare that they were all in the same place. This should have been a special time indeed, but she could not help feeling morose. Ian, William, Hamish, and Lyle righted themselves when their father threatened to cut them off from the punch bowl and the spiced ale later. With that, they made their way over to the castle.

It was no use resisting. Her heart belonged to someone else, someone she would probably never see again. They would never understand.

The metal gavea satisfying clang against the anvil as Colin struck it with the hammer. Sparks flew from the red hot metal rod, giving a little more light to the otherwise dark blacksmith’s shed. As the days grew shorter, Colin’s sense of loneliness grew larger. He did not care for anyone in this small village, romantically or humanistically. He also did not care to speak, unless it was with a customer or it was absolutely required.

When it became too late in the day to work, and he knew the incessant clanging of metal would keep the other villagers up, he stopped. After Bryce had given him the choice to leave or die, they took refuge with Colin’s uncle. It was no castle life, but it was comfortable living, at least. It was better than being hunted for sport in the forest, which was what Bryce had basically threatened if Colin did not comply. Blacksmithing was good work for him. It allowed him to unleash his anger in a way that would not hurt anyone else, and it required a mental focus that distracted him from thoughts of Gemma.

But when the day was done, and there was no work to finish…such thoughts returned. He felt so ashamed that the last time he’d seen her, he left her weeping at the cliffs. That was the last image he had of her in his mind, and try as he might to picture other things, his thoughts always dragged him back to that one. And though he’d promised in his letter that wild horses could not drag him away from her and he’d find a way back, he wasn’t sure he could. The circumstances of his exile were nigh on ironclad. One could tell the truth after telling a lie, one could return something one stole, but one could not take back adultery. Even if Colin’s father was somehow allowed back, Colin still would not be happy if he could not have Gemma.

He took off his apron and hung it far from the furnace. As he was about to splash his face with cold water, he noticed someone standing in the doorway of the shop. Curious…as most villagers were back at their homes by now, likely making supper or winding down for the day.

“Aye, can I help ye?” Upon closer inspection, he realized it was an elderly woman, wrapped in a shawl and staring at him like he had two heads.

“Are ye Colin?” she asked, her voice just as weathered as her appearance.

“I am. How did ye ken my name? Is there somethin’ I can do for ye?”

“Nay, I dinnae think so. But thank ye for askin’. Ye seem a kind lad. ‘Tis not often newcomers arrive in the village. Word travels quick.”

Colin was a little confused as to the conversation, but he was not about to be an arse about it.

“Sure. If ye ever need anythin’, I’m here at the forge.”

She nodded, a grin spreading across that old face, then scurried away.

It was an odd interaction, to be sure. Colin shook his head and splashed his face with cold water. When one had the fortune to grow to that age, any sort of behavior could be forgiven.

He dismissed the interaction from his throughts. Truthfully, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and try to sleep in order to forget it all, but his father and uncle were meeting for a drink at the local tavern and had invited him along. Uncle Angus had been so generous to let them stay at his home and work in his shop, so Colin could not say no to a kind invitation, especially if someone else was paying the tab.

As Colin and his father entered the tavern, the warm and welcoming aroma of woodsmoke and roasted meat enveloped them. The interior of the place was dimly lit, with flickering candles casting shadows on the walls. The low ceiling was supported by rough-hewn wooden beams, and the walls were adorned with antlers and other hunting trophies.

In the center of the room was a large fireplace, its flames dancing and crackling merrily. The heat from the fire was almost palpable, and the room was filled with the comforting sound of wood popping and burning. The tavern was bustling with activity, with patrons seated at rough wooden tables and benches, eating, drinking, and chatting loudly. The air was thick with the scent of ale and whisky, and the sound of tankards clinking together echoed throughout the room.

In one corner, a group of men were playing a lively tune on their instruments, the melody weaving through the conversations and laughter. Some patrons clapped their hands to the beat, while others swayed in their seats, lost in the music. The serving staff, dressed in simple but sturdy clothing, hurried back and forth from the kitchen to the tables, carrying trays laden with steaming dishes and frothing tankards. They moved with an effortless grace, navigating the crowded room with practiced ease.

Despite the lively atmosphere, there was a sense of coziness and intimacy there. The dim lighting and the warmth of the fire made it feel like a sanctuary from the cold and dark outside, and the camaraderie of the patrons and the friendly banter of the staff created a sense of community.

Colin only wished he was in good enough spirits to appreciate it. Honestly, it was nicer than the tavern outside the castle back in Aberdeen, but everything had rather lost its luster for him, considering his situation. Still, a drink might help. Colin had to peer above the din, smoke, and dim lighting to find the table where his father, uncle, and cousin Robert were sitting.

“Who kept ye at the shop so late?” Uncle Angus teased, a smile evident beneath his beard.

“I could tell ye a tale about the boss, but I’ll keep quiet,” Colin said. His uncle was such a cheery man, and Colin got the feeling that his sour mood was sometimes overly upsetting to him, so he really, really tried to be his charming old self in these situations.

His comment made the table roar with laughter, and Colin wondered if he’d ever laugh like that again.

“Now that we’re all here, I’ll go get us the first round,” Angus offered and took Robert with him.

There was an awkward silence between Colin and his father as they waited. They’d talked about their situation briefly, when they were first exiled. At first, Colin had resented his father for the exile, but then realized it had been in the name of love. He could not fault him for that. But there was another topic hanging between them that they hadn’t yet broached — the length of the affair. After it came to light, Colin pieced together the timeline in his head, so when he wasn’t wondering about Gemma he was wondering whether or not Bryce was really the laird’s son. If that could be proven, that could be their way back into the clan. It was, of course, just a theory, and clearly not one his father was ready to talk about.

“I’ve heard some news taeday,” his father said tentatively.

“Aye?”

Captain Frazier licked his lips nervously and cleared his throat.

“I’ve heard that…erm…Miss Gemma and Bryce are now betrothed.”

Colin knew that such a thing was inevitable, but it still hurt to hear it. Rather than feeling like a gut punch, however, it was more like a sour ache had settled in his stomach. He said nothing, but heaved a sigh knowing he’d work this out over the anvil later.

“I ken…that ye still love her. An’ I’m sorry ‘tis happenin’ like this. But I wanted ye tae hear it from me rather than discover it on yer own.”

“I understand. Thank ye for tellin’ me,” he replied, his sullen attitude returning.

“I just hope he treats her well. ‘Tis all we can wish for her,” his father continued.

Colin thought the same thing. Even though Bryce had been his best friend up until recently, he had a sense of entitlement that had always rubbed him the wrong way. Unless something significant were to happen to change his behavior, he’d always be like that. It pained him to think that he saw Gemma only as a conquest and a right, and not a person to be cherished and adored. She deserved better, and he knew he could give it to her.