A Highlander's Home (18 page)

             
She smiled at the memories.  Then her smile faded.  “Then Alisdair came.”

             
“Leith’s cousin?”

             
The Lady glanced at her.  “The same.  His chase of you and intended punishment is just a taste of what he is capable of.  He is the son of my beloved sister
, may
the
Lord bless her
, but he is his father’s son through to the bone.  He was always such a loving child.  But children grow up and when they do, they change and sometimes that change is
for the worse.
He wanted these lands, but his father did not have the wealth that my husband did.  Alisdair was awarded a few hundred acres
to the north of here.  Unfortun
at
el
y,
that was not enough.  He and his blackguards raid our borders, kill our tenants,
and massacre
our livestock.  The women are losing their husbands, the children have no fathers.
”
  Her voice was soft as she continued.  “The curse, in my opinion, is Alisdair.  He has brought fear and hatred to this land.  He steals the water by damming it so that no one else can use it.” 

             
Raine asked, “Can’t Leith just tell the
Queen
?”

             
Lady MacGregor gave a short laugh and looked at her.  “Is it so easy in your land?  Here we must settle our own disputes.  No, the
Queen
will not be bothered with such trifles as to
border
disputes.
”
 

             
“So where does the legend fit in?” inquired Raine.  She continued to chew her fingernail.

             
Lady MacGrego
r
took her finger out of her mouth and smiled.  Raine looked abased.  “Bad habit.”

             
Lady MacGregor continued, her eyes looking distant.  “My father told me that hard times would come upon Hell’s Gate
,
and that my son’s time as Laird would not be an easy one.  There would be strife and battles.  The land would become bar
r
en, as would the women.
But God would not desert us.  A woman with hai
r the color of the sun and from a
land
far from ours
would come one day.  She would save the people of Hell’s Gate and remove the curse that has been upon us.”

             
“But how?” Raine asked, chewing her nail again
, frowning
.
  “How am I supposed to con
vince Alisdair of his wrong doing?”

             
Lady MacGregor smiled
, and sounding just like her son, answered
, “
That, lassie, remains to be seen.”

Chapter 15

             
The Laird of Hell’s Gate whistled a tune as he fairly hopped along the trail that led to the old shed he and Raine had used to avoid the storm that day.  He stopped whistling long enough to smile as the thoughts of what had transpired betwixt them teased his memory – and his groin. 

             
He gave a small laugh to himself, and stooped down to pick a few wildflowers and add
ed
them to the bunch he was carrying.  This was the best part of his land for picking flowers. 
The sun shone and the rains watered it frequently.  The colorful little buds could be seen covering the hills with their silky petals for miles.

             
As he admired his handiwork of the little bouquet, something moved out of the corner of his eye.  He stilled and focused on the horizon.  A small blur that could have been a man on a horse was there but now it was gone.  A visitor?  An enemy? 

             
He blinked and tried to focus again.  His gut was telling him that it was more than just a hallucination caused by the sun.  He would send out riders just in case.

             
In the meanwhile, he smiled to himself, he had flowers to deliver.

             
He found Raine in the sitting room with her ladies.  They were
working on their embroidery, and one was teaching Raine how to stitch.  He cleared his throat from the doorway.  The ladies came to their feet, curtseying, while Raine remained seated, deep in concentration with her needle working feverishly over the band of material.

             
One of the ladies motioned to her, but she didn’t notice. 

             
“Pssst!  My Lady!” she whispered.

             
Raine looked up, needle poised.

             
“Oh, hi.”

             
Leith continued to stare at her, fighting the smile that threatened to break his stern look.

             
The ladies remained standing, one still trying to get Raine’s attention, but failing to break through the frustrated determination of his wife.  Her fingers jabbed the needle through the material and yanked the thread out much too hard.  If she frowned any deeper, her eyebrows would meet the end of her nose.

             
Leith made his way towards her.  “My lady, it is customary that when your husband and Laird enter the room, you rise to meet him.”

             
“Hmmm?
  Oh.  Sorry.
”

             
She dropped her embroidery as she rose.  She and her lady both bent to retrieve it and knocked heads.  Both ladies fell to the ground, each clutching their foreheads.

             
Leith offered each of them his hands and helped them to their feet, stifling his laughter.  That she even rose at all, and did not fight him or his customs was a good sign.

             
Raine’s lady said, “Forgive me, my lord.”

             
He nodded and released her.  “Are ye well?”

             
She nodded and glanced at Raine, who was a deep shade of red.

             
“Are ye well, lass?” he asked her.

             
“Huh? Oh, yeah.  I’m fine, fine.  Just a slight bump.”  She rubbed it and flinched.

             
He offered her his arm.  “Would ye care to walk with me a bit?  ‘Tis a beautiful day and much too fine to be wasted alone.”

             
The ladies behind her fairly
aaaaaaaahhhed
in unison.  Raine rolled her eyes a
t them, and turned to Leith.  His
eyes were bright, his features stern, but she sensed it was all a façade.  He was ready to burst with laughter.

             
“Oh, you big brute.  Let’s go.”  She grabbed his arm and practically dragged him out of the room. 

             
The ladies were left behind, mouths open at their mistress’s lack of manners, and were stunned further when deep, masculine laughter burst out of the hallway and did not stop until the couple reached the great hall.

             
“You can stop laughing now.  It wasn’t that funny.”  She rubbed her bump lightly.

             
He pushed her hand away and perused her scalp.  The slightest mound appeared.  “Ye’re no worse for wear.  Ye will survive.”

             
She batted his hand away.  “Of course I will.”

             
A giggled escaped her.  He joined her.  She laughed a little harder.  Then the two were joined in a burst of laughing.

             
Swatting his arm she pouted between smiling lips, “That girl had a very hard head.”

             
His arm sli
pped around her waist.  “Aye.  ‘
Tis true.  She is Scottish after all.”

             
Raine smiled up at him.  His arm was strong and warm against her back.  She could smell the earthly scent of the outdoors mingled with his own
masculine scent that she had grown accustomed to
.  She resisted the urge to lay her head in the crook of his shoulder.  He could assail her senses all he wanted.  She would resist.  But she would resist by slightly enjoying it.

             
He guided them through
the town, waving and nodding to the townspeople.  They smiled at their new mistress and happily watched the new couple meander through the village.

             
“Lass, let us speak,” he said. 

             
“Alright.”

             
“Are ye happy?  Here?  Have the people treated ye well?  Respectfully?” he inquired.

             
She laughed.  “Oh, yes.  They have all been wonderful to me.  No complaints.”

             
He fiddled with the ribbon at her waist.  “Have ye enough dresses?”

             
“Yes, plenty.”

             
“Are they suitable?”

             
“Suitable?  Why, yes, of course.”

             
He motioned to her legs and continued, “They are not too long then?”

             
She
gave a crooked grin
.
  He thought that her smile rivaled the sun,
and then
shook himself.  She was his wife, and he
realized he
was beginning to like her
. 
             

“Yes, they are too long, but they are what your women wear so I will not complain.  Be
sides,” she shook her skirts, “
I’m sort of used to them now.”

             
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes.  “However,” she said slowly, “I sure do miss wearing my pants.  They were so comfortable and much more feasible for riding.”

             
When he said nothing, she let out an exaggerated sigh.  Then another.  Then another.

             
He swatted her behind and she yelped.  “Och, lass, simply ask me.  And close yer mouth before ye catch a bug.”

             
Her lips slammed shut, and twirling a curl hanging over her shoulder she said, “I should greatly appreciate it if you would return my, um, trews as you call them, to me.”

             
“But the men get distracted.  Perhaps it be better if ye stuck wi’ yer dresses.”  He frowned and stole a glance at her.

             
She huffed with indignation and shoved her elbow in his ribs.  He grunted,
and then
they both laughed. 

             
“Do not abuse me just to get yer way, lass.  I may look like I am strong as an ox, but truth be told,” he paused and sighed
dramatically
, “I am as fragile as a wee flower.”

             
Laughter erupted from Raine
and she made no effort to refrain herself, even when he joined in unabashedly.  They continued until they were both out of breath, and the townspeople
were shaking their heads at
them.

             
When he could speak, he told her, “I will have my lad return them to ye, but have pity on me, lady, and wear them sparingly.  They truly are a distraction, and not only to me.”

             
“Do I distract you?” she asked prettily.

             
Growling he reached to swat her bottom again, but she dashed just out of his reach, giggling at her success
, surprised at the fun she was having
.  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back to him.  The day was warm, the sun shone high in the sky, but his body was cold from where she left.

             
“Aye, ye distract me.  Somewhat.” He flashed a grin.  “Do women dress like ye all the time in yer land?”

             
She chewed on a hangnail, and answered through her teeth, “Oh, yeah.  All the time.  We can wear whatever we want.  Jeans, er, pants or trews
, long skirts, short skirts, short pants.  Whatever.”

             
He contemplated this.  “Do yer women all have skills, like my men, and occupations?  Do they earn their own gold pieces?”

             
She nodded.  “Yes, we have to.  Here women go from their father’s house straight to their
husband’s
house.  In my time, women are equal to men.  We don’t have to wed if we don’t want to.  We finish school, learn th
e necessary skills, and support ourselves
. We take care of ourselves until we meet the man who sweeps us off of our feet and marries us.”

             
“Sweeping is not very romantic,” he guffawed.