As High as the Heavens (9 page)

Beth eyed her wryly. "Well, he is one of the most braw,
strapping young men I've seen in many a day. If I hadn't
already set my sights on Tavish Gordon. . ." She finished
the sentence with a besotted sigh.

"Ah, aye, the elusive Tavish," Heather said with a
chuckle, choosing to ignore her maid's reference to Duncan's quite impressive physical attributes. "One would
think that man had had enough of the single life after
forty-two years, and be sick nigh unto death of sharing
his sleeping quarters with all my father's fine horses."

"He has yet to find the right woman, he has told me."
Beth walked to the four-poster bed and turned back the
thick woolen sheets. "Well, I'll tell ye true. I've decided
to be that woman. My Seamus has been dead all of six
years now, and it's past time I take another man to husband."

"So ye think Tavish is the one for ye, do ye?"

Beth nodded. "Aye, that I do."

"Then mayhap I can convince my father to allow Tavish to accompany us to the Mackenzie's steading and
serve as groomsman and personal guard for the time
we must remain there." Heather grinned conspiratorially. "Think on it, Beth. Three months crowded together
into a simple cottage. If the man doesn't offer for ye by
the first spring flowers, he isn't worthy to be called a
Scotsman."

A chestnut brow arched, and interest flared in a pair
of gray eyes. "That's an intriguing thought," Beth agreed
slowly. "But can ye get yer father to part with his precious head groomsman, even if only for a few months?"
She made her way to the hearth, took up a set of iron
tongs, and removed a brick she had placed there earlier
to heat.

Heather gave an injured sniff. "That's the least my
father can do, after what he has managed to entangle me in." Picking up the book she had been reading before
supper, she began to leaf idly through it.

"I must confess," Beth offered as she returned from
the hearth. "The few times I saw him, yer Highlander
didn't seem all that crude or brazen, leastwise not to me."
She lifted the bedclothes and slid the hot brick along
the length of the mattress at the foot of the bed. "He but
smiled at me, then stepped aside in a most gentlemanly
fashion so I might pass. But there was naught offensive
in his words or manner. Of course, mind ye, I'm hardly
a lass in the first bloom of womanhood, nor as bonny
as ye.

"For yer information, he's not my Highlander. And, secondly, he hardly treated Janet Mackenzie as churlishly,
either," Heather muttered, "and she was single-handedly
trying to strip him naked when first I met him."

Beth turned. "He was naked, was he? And does yer
father know of this?"

"He wasn't completely naked." Heather rolled her eyes
in exasperation. "He still had his kilt clutched to him.
Though," she added with a wry chuckle, "Janet was trying her verra hardest to relieve him of that, too."

"And how did he appear?" Beth asked after she had
extracted the brick from the bed and returned it to the
hearth, then hurried back to her mistress. "Was he as
well-made without his clothes as with them? Was he
truly, as Janet put it"-she paused for a giggle and impish
grin-"the finest piece of man flesh in these parts?"

Her maid's unabashedly shameless questions stirred
memories Heather would've preferred to have forgotten. Memories of Duncan Mackenzie, standing there, his wild mane of dark hair damp, his face, arms, and
legs mud-splattered, his magnificent body bulging with
muscle and most attractively hair-roughened.

A hot rush of blood warmed her cheeks. Heather shook
her head vehemently, inasmuch as to dispel the disquieting images as to visibly disagree with Beth's questions.

"I wouldn't know." She pretended sudden interest in
laying aside her book and climbing into bed. "Ye, with
yer wifely experience, would've been far better suited
than I to assess such manly attributes."

Beth walked over and pulled the comforter up to cover
her. "Mayhap, but mayhap not. Ye're a woman grown.
Ye know yer mind and what ye like and don't like. And
what I asked for was yer opinion of the Highlander."

"And what does my opinion of the man matter, one
way or another?" Heather demanded, growing angry because she knew her cheeks still flamed red. "He's naught
to me save as a student to be tutored, and as the key
player in the plot to rescue the queen. One way or another, in three months' time I'll be well rid of him-and
glad of it!"

"Aye, that ye'll be, my lady. One way or another." Beth
stepped back, snuffed the single candle burning at the
bedside and, in the dim, flickering light of the hearth
fire, smiled. "Be rid of him, I mean. As for the being glad
of it, well, that may well be another matter entirely. Aye,
another matter entirely, if I'm any judge of affairs of the
heart-and the prickly course that loving oft takes."

The weather the next day, though cold, was perfect
for traveling. The mud from the previous day's rain remained frozen. The sun shone, gracing the land with its
weak radiance, and the usual brisk winter winds failed
to blow.

After only a sparse breakfast of porridge and hot milk,
Heather, accompanied by Beth, Tavish Gordon, her father, Angus, and Malcolm, set out with Duncan Mackenzie shortly after dawn. They rode directly south for
several hours before reaching the slate gray waters of
Loch Carron, the impressive sight of the mountain range
known as the Five Sisters of Kintail far in the distance.
Finally, they took an old cattle trail east into yet more
mountainous terrain.

Birch woodlands, their branches still devoid of foliage,
filled the glens along the way. High on the mountainsides,
the mighty red deer stalked the shadowed depths of pine.
Occasionally, Heather caught a glimpse of a wild goat
herd, a few newly born kids among them.

It was an exciting sight-the rugged beauty of the
snow-capped mountains, the river-threaded broad straths
and barren glens, the forests teeming with wildlife. It was
a land as foreign yet savagely beguiling as the handsome
Highlander who rode before her. Aye, savagely beguiling, Heather reminded herself grimly, and also as dark
and dangerous.

A little past midday, they reached the last of the myriad, snow-covered hills separating them from the quaint
stone cottage Duncan Mackenzie called home. The little
dwelling sat in a secluded dell, sheltered by tall pines on
the north and a rocky outcropping of mountain on the west. On the east, in a stand of leafless, ancient birches,
was a small but well-built cattle byre.

From the south, the house looked down on a now
frozen burn that meandered across the steading and
through the cattle pens before emptying into a large pond
at the base of yet another hill. Beyond lay a large, densely
wooded forest. A faint wisp of smoke wafted gently from
the cottage's stone chimney. In the now bright sunshine,
the scene was both charming and welcoming.

"It doesn't appear so poorly, does it, lass?" Heather's
father asked from beside her. "The steading and house
are obviously well maintained and look quite prosperous.
It won't be as bad as ye first imagined, I'd wager."

More for Duncan Mackenzie's benefit, who, at her
father's comment, cast a quick glance over his shoulder,
than because she truly felt heartened by the scene before
them, Heather managed a brusque nod. "Aye, I'd imagine
not," she replied. "But then, things aren't usually as bad
as one fears, are they?"

Duncan eyed her for a brief moment more, then
grinned and turned back to the road ahead. The wretched,
conceited rogue, Heather thought, clenching her horse's
reins so tightly her knuckles turned white. If he, for even
one second, thinks he's bested me ...

With an effort, she forced her attention back to her
father. "Can't ye stay even one night? These Mackenzies
are all but strangers to me, and I'm sure to feel more at
ease after-"

"Lass, lass," Robert Gordon chided with a paternal
smile, "ye've never lacked for skills with speech, not with
strangers or even yer betters. Why, if I recall correctly, wasn't it ye who, when but a lass of thirteen, strode right
up to our queen and introduced yerself before Mary
gave ye leave, or ye were even properly announced?" He
chuckled softly. "A lass of yer mettle will never lack for
courage, no matter the situation."

Disappointment flooded Heather. She knew well
enough by now what her father's true answer was when
he hedged in such a fashion. "So ye mean to make Uncle
Angus's tower house before dark, do ye?"

"It isn't for me to decide, lass." Her father smiled apologetically. "It's hardly polite of me to dictate the day's
agenda to my host."

"Aye, I suppose not," Heather muttered. Especially
when it's evident ye've no wish to linger here a moment
longer than necessary, she added with an uncharacteristic bitterness.

"Ye've Beth and Tavish to keep ye company," Robert Gordon hastened to add, apparently noting the disgruntled tone of her voice. "And besides, there's Fiona
Mackenzie to chaperone ye as well. Ye'll not lack for
protection, if protection is even what ye're needing."

Aye, protection, Heather thought grimly. It was indeed
a ludicrous consideration. Who or what had she to fear?
Surely not Duncan Mackenzie. As overbearing as he was,
it was equally evident he knew his place and his manners, at least when in the presence of his elders. He was
no danger to her unless she allowed him to be.

Besides, she was no love-struck girl like Janet Mackenzie. She would never permit herself to act in such
an addlepated fashion. It was bad enough she seemed
to have lost Janet's friendship, and all because she had chided the young woman about the dangers of heroworshiping Duncan Mackenzie. But then, to add insult
to injury, Janet seemed to think she had ridden joyously
off this morn in eager anticipation of spending months
with Duncan in the relative isolation of his home.

Why, one would've thought Janet had imagined she
had stolen Duncan Mackenzie right out from beneath
her nose! And all because of some man whose physical comeliness warranted hardly more than a passing
glance.

In the clearer light of a fresh new morn, Duncan
Mackenzie wasn't anything special. There were plenty
of men as big and strapping as he. Plenty of men with the
most astonishingly broad shoulders and well-muscled
bodies. Plenty of men who walked with an effortless,
catlike grace that caught the eye and made the mouth
go dry...

With a jerk, Heather realized where her thoughts were
once more leading. She flushed, mortified with herself
and unaccountably angry with Duncan Mackenzie.

His brother Colin, for all his ardent courtship, had
never stirred her in such a way. Indeed, no man had ever
affected her like Duncan Mackenzie had in the span of
less than a day. Yet the grim truth remained. She didn't
know this man or his heart and his mind. For all his fine
looks and exciting manner, what if there was naught
more? What if he was a dullard or, worse still, what if
he thought little of women save for the selfish pleasure
he might find with them?

That admission brought Heather back full circle, frustrating her all the more. She was no love-smitten girl and would never allow herself to be. If she ever gave her
heart to a man, it would be because she admired his mind
and was moved by his soul. Because he recognized her
intelligence, her womanhood, and cherished it, wished
to nurture it and bring it to even greater fruition. And,
most of all, because she was totally convinced of his
undying love.

That much Heather, at the very least, knew of herself.
Though the knowledge had come too late to help her
mother, Heather had seen the deep, soul-searing pain
Margery Gordon must have lived with all the years of
her marriage. And she had seen, as well, what wedding
the wrong man had done for her sister.

Precisely because of those experiences, Heather knew
she had set standards that few, if any, men could ever
hope to meet. Standards Duncan Mackenzie most certainly didn't fit, whether as an illiterate Highlander or
the nobleman he truly was by right of birth.

It was the God's honest truth, Heather well knew. Until
the man ceased to affect her at any level, she must remind
herself of that fact as oft as it took. Fine looks meant
naught. A seductive pair of green eyes, a roguish smile,
and an inexplicably compelling animal magnetism were
scant reason to surrender one's heart and soul to another.
Besides, three months was surely far too short a time to
lose one's heart to a man.

It was all but a matter of time, Heather reassured herself as they headed down the hill toward the Mackenzies'
cottage. Her unsettling attraction to Duncan Mackenzie
would soon pass. Close contact in the ensuing months
would quickly dispel whatever romantic notions he had stirred within her. All she had to do was get to know the
man. Then her beloved logic and clearheaded thinking
would return, just as they always had before.