Page 399 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“My wife,” he whispered against her body.

Victoria stiffened, but he held her, until, at last, he felt a teardrop fall on his arm. He rose and led her to the bed. She stood motionless while he methodically untied the lace on her bodice. He slipped the dress from her shoulders, then pulled back the covers and laid her between the cool sheets. Stripping off his own clothes, Iain crawled in beside her, wrapped his arms around her, and did the only thing he could: held her close, knowing the tears she shed this time were his doing.

* * *

Iain awoke in drowsy arousal and reached beside him in the bed. His fingers closed around cool linen sheets. He came fully awake and turned to confirm that he was alone.

“No less than you deserve,” he muttered, but in the next instant was standing and wrapping his breacan around himself. Then he was out the door in search of his wife.

Iain paused in the great hall at sound of her voice among the other women in the kitchen and gave thanks she could partake in so mundane a daily exercise. The deadly quiet that ensued when he crossed the line between the province of men and that of women brought with it the inescapable feeling he was to suffer the rest of his life in celibate solitude.

“Good morning, love,” he smiled at Victoria, then made greeting all around. Cool civility. Iain sighed. “I will be in my study.”

No comment followed. He nodded and, with a final glance at his wife, made his way to the study.

* * *

Iain’s attention riveted onto the pounding of boots in the hallway headed toward his study that afternoon. He was on his feet even as the warrior appeared in the doorway.

“Thomas said I should tell you laird,” he panted, “you might want to come to the courtyard. ’Tis your mist—er, Madeline. Your wife and her are having—”

“Christ.”

Iain glanced at the clock as he rounded the desk. Two o’clock. Madeline should have been gone long ago. What sort of fool had he been to allow her the privilege of leaving Fauldun Castle as any free woman? He pushed past the warrior and raced down the hall to the steps, taking them two at a time. Across the great hall in an instant, he flung open the postern door and rushed out into sunlight. Madeline’s gaze tore through the crowd as Iain shoved through the throng.

“You would take her in as if she were kin?” She pointed at Victoria. “Traitors!” Her mouth contorted into a snarl. “She is Sassenach.”

Victoria’s calm voiced stopped him. “Sassenach, aye.” She looked around as more than a few people lowered their gazes and a brave soul or two nodded. “I know some feel I have no right to be here. But, remember, it is not a Sassenach who bears the guilt in this deception, but one of your own.” She turned and the crowd parted for her.

Madeline gave a scream of fury and leapt forward.

Iain lunged for her, but skidded to a halt when

Victoria whirled and swung her fist into Madeline’s jaw. Blood spurted from Madeline’s lip and she stumbled backward. The crowd backed up, allowing her to fall to the ground. Iain took two steps, seized her arm, and yanked her to her feet. Ignoring her surprised snarl, he held her as he marked Victoria’s steady stride toward the castle. Today, his wife had become the true mistress of Fauldun Castle.

* * *

Victoria ceased playing the harpsichord and glanced toward the window of the north tower. Waning rays of sunlight poured through the stained glass and cut in translucent color through the room. The evening meal would soon be served. She rose, knelt beside the music bench, and opened the top.

One by one, she lifted the thin books and sheets of music inside, examining each, then leaning them against her abdomen before going on to the next. Pausing to look closer at a piece of handwritten music, Victoria ran her fingers across the faded paper.

“Thirty years old, if a day,” she murmured.

She grasped the papers and leaned on the bench lid, shoving to her feet. The lid creaked and a loud crack followed as it broke free of the bench and crashed to the floor. She fell to her backside, sending papers sliding across the floor.

“Sweet Jesu.”

Victoria scrambled to her knees and began gathering the music. Once the sheets were piled beside her, she picked up the lid with the intention of fitting it back into place, but halted at sight of papers visible from inside the broken lid. She tugged the first sheet from between the crack and stared at the handwritten sheet of paper.

I believed I could keep the secret. I see now, Eric has always known. Fool that I am, I took his disdain of Iain as his way of punishing me.

Victoria stopped reading the journal page and tilted the subsequent pages toward the candle she had lit when the sunlight gave out an hour ago. She shuffled through the papers until finding the desired date, June 1482, and compared the page with the one she had been reading.

“Tell me why the boy’s eyes are brown,” was Eric’s demand. “My father has blue eyes, I have blue eyes. But the—” the text ended and Victoria turned to the original page she held in her hand “—boy’s eyes are brown.”Foolish as his reasoning was, I could not deny it. I have seen it myself. Perhaps it is just a mother’s fancy, wanting to see the father in the son. But I can see all of my beloved in Liam, and none of Eric. I wonder, does Liam know? He has never seen Iain. Yet, how can he not know?

A quick calculation told Victoria Iain would have been about four years old at the time of the entry in his mother’s diary. Tears rushed to the surface. Only a babe, yet his father didn’t want him. But Eric MacPherson wasn’t his father. What did that mean for Iain…for the clan? Victoria brushed tears from her cheeks and continued reading.

I grow more weary by the day. Eric returned today from a raid on a Fraser village. The death toll in his holy war increases with each ride he makes from Fauldun Castle. I was in the great hall when he entered. His look of triumph was undeniable. At first, I felt only relief that Iain was not present to witness the homecoming. But my prayer of thanks had but passed my lips when he appeared. I did not see him; it was Eric who gave away his presence behind me. Even as I watched Eric’s eyes darken, I knew why. I turned, saw Iain turn his back to him and leave.