A Highlander's Second Chance: Highland Temptations Read online

  “Keep in mind,” he warned her in a low voice, “that I am wounded and weak. Ye would not attack a weak, wounded man. Especially one who was wounded in service to ye.”

  “I do not know what I would do.” She stood, folding her arms, her back turned to him. “You might have been killed.”

  “Ye most certainly would have been,” he reminded her. “I did not see the harm in risking one if I might prevent the other.”

  “I did not want it that way. Do you not understand? I would not have you die for me. You mean too much.”

  “We will never agree upon this, my love.” It fell from his lips before he could catch it, and by the time he heard it, there was nothing to be done.

  She turned slightly, revealing her profile. “No. I suppose we never will.”

  “Did ye…mean what ye said when you were in the cell? Or was that simply the sort of thing a woman says when she believes she is about to die?”

  “How can you?” She turned to him, then sank to her knees at his side. “Clyde McMannis, you drive me out of my senses. You anger me, frustrate me, challenge me at every turn. And I love you most terribly. I barely had time to know it before we were separated.”

  “Aye, ’twas the same for me.” He took the end of her braid, twisting it around his forefinger. It was as soft as he had imagined. “I thought it would be unfair to Janet.”

  “And I to Thomas,” she whispered, a note of sadness in her voice. “I will never not love him.”

  “I feel the same about my wife,” he agreed.

  “But this does not mean I cannot love you now, here. While I can.” A slow, shy smile began to reveal itself. “Is that not so?”

  “Is that—” He did not bother himself with finishing, choosing instead to pull her to him and kiss her as he’d longed to do for days. Months, perhaps.

  She leaned against his chest, her palms warm there, kissing him back with all of the passion he knew existed in her nature. Yet when he took her in his arms, crushing her to him, she did not fight back for once.

  Instead, she nestled against him and kissed him harder still. It had been so long, too long, since he’d held a woman and kissed her and felt her body against his. Knowing she wanted him, that she would rather be nowhere else than with him.

  And at last, after so many years, a sense of peace touched his heart. He need no longer be alone. He’d found his other half.

  “I love you,” she whispered, shaky and trembling once the kiss ended and they struggled for breath.

  “And I ye, my darling,” he murmured, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. “I always will.”

  Her gray eyes widened. “Where?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Where will you love me? I mean” —she laughed, shaking her head as if to clear the cobwebs— “where will we be? It pains me to say this, but I do not believe we ought to return to the convent. Not for more than a goodbye.”

  He grimaced, but nodded in agreement. “I thought the same thing and dreaded speaking of it. I thought ye would be cross if I suggested ye no longer should risk yourself.”

  She chuckled. “I was more concerned with risking them should I return.”

  “Of course, ye were,” he whispered, his heart swelling with love. Even if she was more than a bit infuriating, the stubborn lass. “Regardless of the reasoning, I’d thought we might…perhaps…live on my land.”

  Simply speaking the words aloud felt good. True. The way things ought to be. He’d never forget his family, the love he’d lost, but it was time now to celebrate the love he’d found and make a proper home for her. For both of them.

  “Does that mean you wish to marry me?” she asked, pushing herself up onto her knees.

  He stammered, “I…that is…allow a man to say these things for himself, woman! Ye will be the end of me, I am certain of this.”

  “But you do?” she pushed.

  “Aye, though I must ask myself why I would put myself through the torture.” He laughed as she threw herself into his arms once again.

  Rufus cleared his throat, slowly stepping from between a pair of pines. “I beg your pardon, but am I going to lose another of my most trusted men?”

  Clyde could not look as though he regretted it. Not just then. Not when he was so happy.

  25

  “I do not understand.” Mary looked from Ailsa to Clyde, then back again. “What are you asking me to do?”

  Ailsa knew she understood very well, but did not wish to offend or overstep herself. “I am asking you to lead the girls now. You know everything there is to know, and I have the utmost confidence in you.”

  “There is no one who could do better than ye, and ye know it,” Clyde added with a note of fondness. “It makes all the sense there is.”

  “What of you two?” she asked, blue eyes wide and staring. “What will you do?”

  “That is something I wished to share with ye,” he began with a glance Ailsa’s way. “Ye see, we plan to…”

  “Marry.” Mary nodded. “Go on.”

  Ailsa burst out laughing. “What made you come to that conclusion?”

  “Was I not supposed to know the two of you had fallen in love?” Mary suggested, shaking her head until her blond curls bounced. “I suspect you two were the last two to know it. And I could not be happier.”

  “Truly?” Clyde asked with a catch in his voice.

  Mary went to him, hugging him fiercely. “Truly,” she whispered, and there was a catch in her voice, as well. “I know she would want this.”

  Ailsa turned away, tears filling her eyes, and looked up at the convent walls. She’d nearly forgotten how tall they were, and she had only been away a little more than a week.

  Everything had changed, and so quickly. She’d left the convent eager to be on her way, to continue her work and do the best she could. There had been nothing but the girls, their training, their success.

  Now, while they still mattered a great deal, there was something far more important to be managed.

  The rest of her life.

  But the convent had brought Clyde to her, and she could never forget that. Nor would she. It had also given her a sense of purpose again, something she’d not possessed since she’d lost Thomas.

  She reached out, touching one of the sun-warmed stones, grateful for the protection it had given her, and the protection it would provide for her girls until they moved along to England without her.

  “We had best be on our way,” Clyde murmured, touching her shoulder and bringing her back to the present moment.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I do not wish to linger. The farther north we are, the better.” She hugged Mary and asked her to say goodbyes to the others on her behalf. It would have been too terribly emotional. To say nothing of the time it would take.

  They had a great deal of riding to do, after all, and Clyde with a wounded leg. Rufus and Drew had parted ways with them in Edinburgh, promising a great welcome feast in their honor upon arriving at the farm.

  If it meant sleeping in a bed again and perhaps enjoying a decent meal, Ailsa could hardly wait.

  But it was good, being with him. Just the pair of them, together. Getting to know each other better.

  “It was this,” she told him as they rode away from the convent, touching her throat. “He recognized it. The man on the bridge.”

  They had not spoken about it since that first day, after crossing the border. She hadn’t wished to speak of the matter then, but the passage of several days had since softened some of the rough edges, making it possible to go over the memories without as much pain.

  “I suspected as much,” Clyde growled. “Though I suppose there is nothing ye can do about it. Besides, it is not as bad as that.”

  “No. It is worse.” She chuckled humorlessly.

  “I tell ye, it is not. I hardly notice it.”

  “That is easy for you to say. I have lived with it every day.”

  “I would think ye would find it easier to ignore, then,
” he retorted. “It is merely part of ye, lass, and not such a very big part, at that.”

  “You…do not find it ugly?” she whispered, cursing her weakness. It would always be a tender spot for her, tied as it was to so many shameful memories.

  “Ailsa.” He drew his horse to a halt, and she did the same. “My darling, ye are the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Truly. And, in my eyes, that mark is part of your beauty.”

  She touched it, still self-conscious. “You cannot mean that.”

  “I dinna say things I dinna mean. Ye know it well.”

  “I do,” she admitted, though grudgingly.

  “I canna say why your family treated ye so harshly, or why anyone cared at all over a mark on ye. There is much more to ye than that. Ye are brave and fierce and true, wise and loving and…”

  She snickered. “I suppose much of that came about because of my mark,” she mused, staring off to where the sun was beginning to sink. It seemed the entire world stretched out before her.

  “How is that?”

  “If it were not for this, I would not have paid Thomas a moment’s thought because I might already have been promised in marriage. I would not have wished to denounce my family. I would not have learned to be brave and fierce, because there would have been no need to.”

  He reached out, turning her face to his. “My own, ye canna learn to be those things. They are in ye or they are not. I did not know ye then, but I would wager most anything that you were already everything I said and more.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “Bless you for that.”

  He smiled. “Och, but ye have already blessed me.”

  * * *

  “What is this?” Clyde came to a stop at a low stone wall which ran a good distance along the length of road over which they traveled. On the other side was an expanse of overgrown land which she suspected had not been cleared in years.

  Nestled in the center was a stone cottage, charming in its simplicity and not unlike the one which she had shared with Thomas. Smoke curled up from the chimney, and light shone through freshly washed windows. In all, it was a lovely home, warm and welcoming if somewhat out-of-place when compared to the neglected land on which it sat.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, turning away from the endearing sight to find him frowning in puzzlement.

  “This…this is my land. This is my home.”

  Her mouth fell open, and she turned back to the land and the house. “Yours?”

  “Ours, ye ken. Once we are wed. But aye, this is mine. I have not lived here in years. What is it all about?” He urged the horse to trot, hurrying down the length of the wall until they reached a gate which opened onto a worn path leading to the front door.

  A door which opened, revealing a woman with long, dark curls and a babe in arms. “’Tis high time ye graced us with your presence, Clyde McMannis!”

  “Davina?” He laughed. “What is this?”

  “Come up to the house, man, and I shall tell ye!” She laughed, waiting for them to ride down the path and dismount before the house. Ailsa’s heart thrilled at the sight of it, even more charming and inviting up close.

  “What have ye done, woman?” Clyde asked, rubbing his bare head as he turned a slow circle.

  “What have we done, ye mean,” Davina corrected with a merry laugh. “We have worked without rest for two days, ever since my man and his cousin returned from their adventure with ye. We heard all about it, and after I cuffed them about the head—forgive me,” she added, acknowledging Ailsa.

  “Not at all.” Ailsa chuckled. “I wished to do the same, truth be told.”

  “As I was saying, after I finished shouting, they told me ye were to be wed. It was clear we needed to prepare your home for ye. Anne and I, Drew and Rufus, some of the hands from the farm. They have a fair bit of work to get through yet, but ye shall have a lovely home soon enough.”

  “How…” Clyde still could not understand. “How did ye know it was mine? I never told anyone.”

  “Nay, but I followed ye one day. Forgive me,” she added, blushing. “Ye would ride out and return with nothing to show for it but sadness. I followed ye one day, and this was where ye led me. It was clear to me after that.”

  She allowed him to take this in, stepping over the threshold to greet Ailsa. “Ye must forgive my manners. It has been a rather busy time, and I am beside myself. I am Davina MacIntosh, wife of Rufus.”

  “And I am Ailsa Dunne, and it is a great honor to meet you. And you,” she added, beaming when Davina’s daughter smiled and reached out for her.

  “Would ye like to?” Davina asked, holding the babe out to her. “I must check the stew and the bread…” She had turned to enter the house before Ailsa quite knew what was happening.

  “Fiona.” Clyde smoothed a hand over her head, smiling down at her. “How ye have grown.” He seemed to become a different person in the presence of children. He softened so, became tender and sweet and easily delighted when the baby giggled.

  “Uncle Clyde!” A little girl with a head full of dark, wild curls ran through a field of wildflowers, arms open wide. “Ye came home!”

  “Wee Moira.” He laughed, getting down on one knee to gather her up. “Ye have grown, as well. Did ye not know ye were supposed to stop growing when I was away?”

  “Was I?” the girl asked, wide-eyed.

  Ailsa chuckled as Clyde explained that no, she was not.

  “Go in and help your mam with supper, for I am a very hungry man,” he said, kissing her cheek before taking Ailsa by the hand. “I have something I would like to show ye.”

  She followed him, still holding baby Fiona—who had taken a great deal of interest in Ailsa’s hair, tugging and cooing—until they reached a trio of large stones set into the ground.

  “Oh,” she whispered, struck by a multitude of feelings all at once. “This is where…”

  “Aye,” he murmured. “This is where.” He got on one knee again, clearing away a handful of weeds. “I could never bring myself to live here after what happened. But I could not sell the land to another, knowing they were here. I had considered letting Mary live here, but ye know she would rather…do what she’s doing.”

  When he looked up at her, the hope and hesitation in his expression all but broke her heart.

  “Are ye certain ye can manage it? Living where they lived, where they now lie?”

  “Clyde, you must know that wherever you go, I want to go, as well. So long as I am with you, and you are happy. Can you live here again and start a new life? Our life?”

  “I believe so.” He looked out, beyond the graves, and in the distance, Rufus and Drew were visible crossing the field. They waved, arms over their heads. A pair of boys—one larger, one smaller—ran alongside them. Davina and another young woman who Ailsa assumed was Anne came from the house, talking and laughing merrily.

  And she was part of it, for he wished it so. He wanted her there with him. His wife, part of his life. Never would she have imagined such a miracle.

  “Aye.” He smiled, standing again and sliding an arm about her waist. “I know I can, for this is where my family is. My entire family.”

  She could not have agreed more.

  Epilogue

  “Are ye not finished yet?” Clyde called into the house. “They will start without us, ye ken.”

  “They will not start without us, and we will not be late.” Ailsa joined him in short order, closing the door behind her. “I merely wished to be certain the fire was out before we rode to the church, if that is all right with you.”

  “I had already made certain of it.”

  “I made double certain.” She climbed into the wagon without waiting for help. “Come, then. We had best be on our way.”

  He grumbled as he joined her behind the team, but she knew it was a good-natured grumbling. They had been husband and wife for nearly six months, after all, and she was already well-versed in understanding him.

  Though this did no
t mean they had ceased arguing. They simply made up in a more enjoyable fashion.

  “The weather held. I’m certain Anne is glad of it,” Ailsa mused as they turned from the open gate onto the road leading into Avoch, where Isla MacIntosh—named for Drew’s mother—was being baptized that morning.

  “Aye, and Drew as well,” Clyde agreed. “I believe we have seen the last of the hard weather. It will be time to plant soon.”

  Ailsa thrilled at the notion. She had planned a vegetable garden over the winter and knew just how it ought to be laid out. Anne and Davina had promised to share seeds with her, along with cuttings from old vegetables which would serve to grow new. Potatoes, onions, cabbage, and all of it hers to tend and care for and harvest.

  If anyone had told her a year before that she would thrill at the idea of growing potatoes, she would have laughed herself sick.

  “I suppose you shall be quite busy once that time comes,” she murmured, sliding an arm through his. “I shall see less of you.”

  It had been a cozy winter, for certain, with the happy couple spending much of their time together. Neither of them had complained. On fair days, they would ride out to see Rufus and Davina, or Drew and Anne. Both households always had room to spare, and they had at times spent two or three days at a stretch.

  But it was always nice to be home, just the two of them. “A man needs to hear himself think,” Clyde had muttered more than once upon arriving at their quiet little cottage.

  And their quiet little life.

  Everything had changed so. Never would she have expected to take pleasure in the life they shared. The early mornings, the afternoons spent doing washing and mending and cooking. The evenings by the fire, reading and drinking tea. Content to simply be together.

  No more fighting. No more training. Granted, she missed the girls and wished she could see them, could know how they were progressing in their work. It drove her half-mad at times, whenever she thought of them and of the dangerous situations they might be in.

  More than once had she woken in the middle of the night, panic-stricken, certain something terrible had befallen one of them. And always Clyde had been there to comfort and soothe her, to remind her of the good work she’d done with them and how prepared they were.