True to the Highlander(50)

“He’s having a grand time. He and Tieren are with the men. Dinna worry.”

“Scotland seems like such a tragic place.”

“Hmm, does it?”

“Yes. I haven’t heard a single story that ends with ‘and they lived happily ever after.’ Everything seems to end in violence and heartbreak.”

He refrained from pointing out that his parents’ own story had ended well. “Mayhap the secrets you carry for others make it seem thus, aye?”

She laid her forehead on his shoulder and took a shuddering breath. He brushed his chin over the crown of her head and tightened his hold. “Would it help to share the secrets you carry? My shoulders are broad enough to bear your burdens.”

“Friendship is not a burden; it’s a blessing. Besides, I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“Were it within my power, I would grant Dylan and my sister permission to marry, and gladly so.” He ran his hands up and down her back in a gesture he hoped would soothe her. “Think you I have no’ tried to sway our father to see things her way?”

“How did you know?”

True raised sad eyes to his, and his heart turned over. “Elaine spent the day with Dylan. The hurt is fresh in her mind. You are her friend, and ’tis only natural she would confide in you.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Nay, ’tis no’, and what of Liam? Has he also sworn you to secrecy?”

“You’re way too clever.” She smiled.

Malcolm drew her tighter into his arms and leaned to whisper in her ear, “Who holds your secrets, mo anam? Will you share them with me? I swear to keep them safe.” As he knew she would, she gave no reply other than another sigh. The warmth of her breath against his neck turned him inside out. “There is still the matter I spoke of earlier today.”

“What matter?” She gazed at him in question.

“I have not yet kissed you today.” With that, his mouth found hers. When her arms came up to circle his neck, and the soft feminine sounds coming from deep within her spilled into his mouth, he knew he’d met his aim to distract her. Content just to hold her in his arms, Malcolm broke the kiss, stroked her hair and rested his chin on top of her head. “Alethia—”

She groaned. “You’re going to ruin this perfect moment, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, pleased that she found his kisses perfect. “What makes you say such a thing?”

“Whenever you have something serious to say, you call me Alethia.”

“Aye.” He brushed a kiss across the frown line on her forehead. “The last time we spoke of Madame Giselle, you said you were afraid. I would know what it is you fear, so I can lay those fears to rest.”

True moved away from him to gaze beyond the walls. Moments passed, and he felt certain she would not tell him. Still, he waited and hoped.

“I am afraid of the what-ifs,” she whispered.

“I dinna take your meaning. What-ifs?” He moved to stand behind her, drawing her back against his chest.

She nodded. “The what-ifs. What if I never see my family or my home again? What if Giselle sends me back home, and I never see you, Elaine, Lydia and everyone else again? What if I fail to save your life? Because of your own stubborn interference,” she added, frowning up at him over her shoulder. “What if Hunter is taken from me? The what-ifs are endless and confront me at every turn.” She placed her small hands on his forearm where it crossed her shoulders.

For the first time since he’d found her, he gained some measure of understanding how much her life had been thrown into turmoil by Giselle’s actions. While his own life had improved immeasurably, hers had become frightening and uncertain. Now, Liam and Elaine had added their secrets to her list of worries.

His heart ached for her. She carried so much upon her delicate shoulders and never complained. Her strength humbled him, and he felt helpless—not a pleasant feeling for one such as he. “Och, lass, what can I do to ease the what-ifs you face?”

Malcolm turned her from the wall and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. He cradled her head against his shoulder and silently railed at the forces at work he felt powerless to control.

“I want to go home, Malcolm,” she whispered into his plaid.

His heart stopped beating.

“I’ve had enough of the fair, and Lydia must be terribly lonesome without us.”

The breath he held left him in a whoosh of sound, and his heart started up again.




Life settled into a pattern, and Alethia welcomed the routine that being back at Moigh Hall afforded her. She practiced her violin in the early morning hours. Not jigs and reels, but Mendelssohn, Vivaldi and Satie. Determined not to let her skill diminish, she also played in the evenings after supper for any who cared to listen.