The Highlander's Return. Marguerite Kaye
kissing women if I were?
Anyway, I have no need of a wife. I have no need of anyone.’
He wasn’t married. He didn’t want to be married and it was probably her fault that he was set against it. She couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t married. This thought above all buzzed around in her head, as impossible to ignore and as useless as an angry blue bottle, and it was all too much. Far too much. She didn’t want to think any more. She wanted nothing so much as to be safe under the covers of her bed. Weariness assaulted her.
Noticing her pallor, Alasdhair felt a twinge of regret. He, too, felt as if he had been pummelled relentlessly, reeling from the onslaught the day had made on his emotions. ‘Come,’ he said, picking up her gloves from the ground and handing them to her, ‘I should get you back to the castle. You look exhausted.’
Ailsa tried valiantly for a smile. ‘It’s all been a bit—overwhelming.’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’ Alasdhair took her hand. ‘We belonged to each other once, before you were pledged to Donald McNair. We did not get to say our farewells six years ago. We were long overdue that kiss. I won’t feel guilty about it, and nor should you.’
Through the starkly handsome face of the man, the boy peered out. She answered him with the sweet smile of the girl she had been.
He would have kissed her again, seeing that smile he remembered so well. She would not refuse him. It was with immense difficulty that he chose honour over desire. Even as he tucked her hand into his arm, he was regretting it. Ailsa stumbled against him as the path grew rocky. Alasdhair tightened his grip on her arm. He could help her home. That much at least he could do with a clear conscience.
Chapter Three
Errin Mhor castle was built on a promontory. There had been a fortified building of some sort on the site since ancient times. Indeed, the dungeons, now used as cellars for the famed Errin Mhor whisky, were reputed to date from the age when the Norsemen held sway over large tracts of the Highlands. The current castle consisted of a three-storey square tower complete with battlements built in the mid-sixteenth century, a later wing extending from the south of the tower built in baronial style, which included the great hall, and a smaller round tower complete with a laird’s lug, the listening room, that had been the whim of the late Lord Munro. The massive oak-beamed portico with the look of a drawbridge that framed the main entrance was also the last Lord Munro’s work. Stables, a dairy and the home farm, along with a few tied cottages and the larger house customarily inhabited by the factor, which had been Alasdhair’s home until his father died, were situated at the north-eastern end of the grounds. The grey granite used for the majority of the buildings gave the castle a forbidding air, but the view to the west, which faced out to sea, was more mellow, for creepers had been permitted to grow up the square tower. Tall French-style windows from the drawing room at the centre of the main building opened out on to the terraced garden that sloped down to the beach.
As they passed through the gates and headed up the long driveway to the main door of the castle, Alasdhair’s mood darkened.
‘I won’t come in.’
‘You haven’t got anywhere else to stay.’
‘Your mother …’
‘Calumn is laird now. He would never forgive me if I let you sleep anywhere save under his roof.’
‘I’ve already told him I won’t be attending the wake. I won’t stay in the castle until the banishment is formally lifted.’
She could tell by the stubborn tilt of his chin that he meant it. She recognised it of old, and knew it was pointless arguing. When Alasdhair thought he was in the right there was no convincing him otherwise. But if he went, she feared he would leave without her seeing him again. She was too raw to be at peace with him, but she wanted to be. ‘If you leave now, my mother will have won again.’
‘I’m not going anywhere yet, you needn’t worry. I have other business to attend to.’
‘I see.’ She waited, but he showed no signs of confiding in her.
‘Will Calumn be holding a Rescinding tomorrow?’
It was an old traditional rite, the forgiving and forgetting of wrongs by a new laird. ‘Yes. He was talking about it yesterday, telling Madeleine, his wife, to make sure there was plenty of food, for the queue was like to be long. My father was not slow to take offence, as you know, and he was quick to bear a grudge. It’s likely most of Errin Mhor will be there, wanting something or other rescinded.’
‘All the better, for then the whole of Errin Mhor can witness the end of my banishment.’
‘Alasdhair, you’re not planning on confronting my mother, are you? She won’t apologise for what she did, but she will be forced to welcome you to the castle—is that not enough?’
‘No, it’s not. Why are you defending her, Ailsa? Don’t you at least want her to admit she lied? Or maybe things have changed since I left. Maybe Lady Munro has learned how to play the role of a loving mother and you’re afraid of hurting her.’
Ailsa looked scornful. ‘Hardly. I have come to the conclusion my mother is incapable of love. Even Calumn she disowned for a while. She only mended those fences when my father became too ill to manage and she needed him back here. I thought then that perhaps she would try to do the same with me, but she did not. And after what I have learned today about her role in our parting, I think the damage between us is beyond any mending.’
‘Then surely you have as much cause as I to wish to see her grovel.’
‘Don’t you see, Alasdhair, by showing her she matters, you’re handing her power? Best to do as I do and pretend indifference. Please.’ She put her hand on the sleeve of her coat. ‘Trust me on this, she will give you no satisfaction.’
Alasdhair frowned. ‘I’ll think about it.’ Through the open door of the castle, muted sounds of laughter and the scraping sound of fiddles being tuned could be heard. ‘You’d better go in.’
‘I don’t know if I can face it.’
She looked exhausted, fragile. Despite her curves, she was very slim. He caught himself wondering about her life in the last six years. For the first time her lack of a husband struck him as odd. She was twenty-two. In the Highlands, that was well past the usual age for one of her kind to marry. Why had she delayed? Was she happy? She didn’t look it.
But Ailsa’s life and Ailsa’s feelings were none of his business. ‘They’ll be expecting you,’ he said brusquely. With a curt nod, he turned his back on her and strode off down the path. He didn’t look back, though she lingered for quite a while to see if he would.
From the window of the laird’s bedchamber, where she had been supervising the removal of the last of his personal belongings to the funeral pyre, Lady Munro looked down at her daughter and Alasdhair Ross. She hardly recognised him in his fine clothes, but that cocky tilt of the head and the stubborn chin, said it was him all right.
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