Page 39 of Highlander’s Dangerous Love

When it was just the two of them, downwind of her house on the sand in the moonlight, she heaved a sigh and regarded Colin.

“What’s happenin’, Colin? I dinnae understand.”

“I ken, but I’m here tae make it all clear. I am sorry for how I acted at the forge. I dinnae ken what tae do. How did ye find me?”

Gemma smiled, remembering the old woman.

“I was leavin’ the castle when some old woman beckoned tae me. She told me of a special lad who worked in a forge in a glen near a river. I dinnae think it was reputable, but I studied my father’s maps, and I went.”

“We might’ve met the same woman. She appeared at the forge, asked me who I was.”

Gemma’s breath caught in her throat once again.

“Who d’ye think she was?”

“A witch, likely,” Colin said.

She lightly smacked him in warning.

“Not all old women who ken things are witches.”

“Aye, mayhap not, but have ye seen her since?”

Gemma shook her head.

“Aye, there’s yer answer. Even if she’s no witch, she must ken the old ways, an’ somehow…about us,” he surmised.

“Witch or no…she led us tae each other again. So…tell me. What did ye mean when ye said ye couldnae tell me the truth until ye had all the answers?”

“‘Twas foolish of me tae say such things, I’m sorry. I…I ken why my father an’ I were sent away.”

That stopped Gemma in her tracks.

“Ye what?”

“Aye. An’ Gemma…ye cannae marry Bryce.”

“I…” she shook her head. “I am already betrothed. I dinnae want tae marry him, but I cannae go back on my word.”

“Ye will have tae when I tell ye what I’ve found. I couldnae believe it meself, but…I trust my father. More than I trust any other man.”

“Colin, tell me. I cannae keep waitin’ like this.”

He took a deep breath, his broad shoulders moving with the effort, and then he held both her hands in his own. She did not resist.

“Ye ken how…all my life, people said Bryce an’ I look alike?”

“Aye,” Gemma said with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Well…there’s good reason for that. Bryce is my brother.”

Gemma’s stomach was now in knots.

“So… are ye tellin’ me yer actually the firstborn son of Laird MacNeill?” she asked, squeezing his hands and hoping it was true.

But Colin shook his head, shaggy red curls flopping about in the sea breeze.

“Nay. Bryce is…my father’s son.”