Heaven and the Heather (24 page)

“
Oui
,” Sabine quickly agreed.

The mountain, a
ben
as Naill called it, was skirted in an early morning lacy mist that had settled into the rain-damp valley. Glints of morning sun touched the summit in streaks of orange and red, across the lush green that seemed to touch the heavens. Clouds, dyed pink and yellow by the sun’s light, glided lazily past the mountaintop paying a brief visit and giving mere mortals a glimpse of the colors of paradise. Sabine covered her mouth to keep from shouting at the beauty before her, the beauty Niall had given her this morn.

“Och, Sabine,” he said softly, “had I known ye would react so, I might have prepared ye before I showed ye
Beinn Tualichean
.”

Swallowing, finding her voice, Sabine asked, “What does that mean?”

“Small green knoll.”

“Knoll?”

“Aye, probably named by some Frenchman who lived in the shadows of the grand Alps,” he replied with a grin. “That ben protects us well enough from intruders, it and the other bens that make up this wee glen.” He paused, cocking a quizzical brow at her. “It might be best if ye didnae make this climb this morning. Ye look shaky.” He began to walk away, toward the mountain.

“
Non!
” Sabine exclaimed, hurrying to walk beside him. “I wish to go!”

“If ’tis
mademoiselle’s
wish.”

Niall took her hand. He led her forward, up and up.

“This is a good place to sort things out. I’ve climbed this ben as soon as I could walk. I know every bit of it, every tree, rock, and burn…” He turned and gave her a wink. “Ye could say I’m like a Highland fox in that respect…a
sauvage
fox.”

Sabine blinked from the dart. “I never—”

He did not break stride, taking her with him, up and up, through the mist.

“Yer heart can be swayed, that I know,” he finally said.

“How would you know my heart?”

“I know yer lips, can yer heart be far behind?”

“Prideful—” She huffed.

“So, I’ve been told,” he laughed.

They walked in silence for a while, the mist roiling around them, until Niall finally spoke.

“If I can turn yer heart round, Sabine, there’ll be one less person in Scotland who doesnae want ‘savages’ like me and mine in the gallows.”

She was on the verge of telling him that the title
sauvage
she had given him so long ago was forgotten to her, but kept silent. Why could she not say those words? She tried to convince herself it was the beauty all around her, what she could see of it through the mist, that kept her speechless, and not the denial of her feelings for Niall.

He climbed up, over hillock and stone, cutting a path for her through the heather. The bottom of his kilt scraped the bell-shaped blossoms and sent them swaying in his wake. He was the king of this place, king of the “glens” and “bens” as he called them.

Not breaking stride, Niall walked up and up, one long stride after another. Sabine watched the way the plaid swung from the tight curve of his buttocks and brushed the taut hollows behind his knees. The joy she found in simple observation was not demanding. Little by little, she felt that when she was alone with Niall the world was theirs. So it seemed on this beautiful Scottish mountain. The higher they climbed the more the mist exchanged with sunlight. No one followed them, no one knew they had come here at the birth of a day Sabine imagined radiant with hope. Niall was here with her on an adventure away from the troubles that besieged the both of them. That she could not deny.

He stopped and released her hand and made a wide sweep with both of his arms.

“Take a good look about ye….” His words trailed off as he captured her with his gaze. “…Sabine?”

She had not taken him from her sight.

“Well? Take a look. I’d hoped ye’d be a wee bit impressed.”

Sabine did not move.

A breeze tossed the thick, cinnamon locks of Niall’s hair about the angles of his face. The ends brushed his strong chin touching now and then the shallow cleft in the center. The early morning sun brought out an enchanting array of reds, oranges, and golds in his hair. If she ventured to count the many hues, she would be an old woman before she finished.

Niall creased his brow. “I thought ye’d like the view.”

She did very much.

He turned away from her, and plopped dejectedly down on an outcropping of stone, like a little boy.

Sabine smiled and kept sudden thoughts close to herself. She suspected that Niall had brought her here for more than the view. She allowed herself to muse of passion released while their bodies were cradled in the heather, their cries of rapture as she gave herself freely to a man as mysterious and free-spirited as the mist that opened before her. The mist that opened to reveal a glimpse of Heaven….

“Sweet Saint Giles!” Sabine stumbled backward. Niall was there to catch her in the strong embrace of his arms.

Beauty, that she had missed since she had left France, was defined for her.

R
apt she was, like a child with eyes anew on a magnificent gift, the birthing of the spring lambs, the budding of the rowan trees, silvery salmon flipping through the burn, or the bonfire at a winter
ceilidh
. Sabine stared at the glen and the bens that made up this favored piece of MacGregor land. Niall had never dreamed that he would sit on the summit of
Beinn Tulaichean
with a woman like Sabine and the future of his clan in his hands.

She stood in profile to him, gaze fixed on the morning light that crept into the glen. Orange and red spears touched each cottage, spreading out and turned the mist into nothing.

“What d’ye find so appealing yonder?” Niall asked.

She closed her eyes for a moment then opened them, her gaze on him.

“All of it is beautiful,” she replied. In a breathless whisper, “
Merci.
”

Slowly, steadily they took a seat on a large, lichen-covered stone. Niall placed an arm around her waist. He did not allow hesitation to rule him, the same polite hesitation that bastards like Campbell thought was proper before they took what they wanted. He shuddered to think of that son-of-a-whore touching Sabine. Hesitation was a trait that Niall could not afford to possess.

He had hoped that he could look down on this favored land, his home, and the way to protect it and all that dwelled here and yon, would come to him. So far all he had done to save his clan was to send Rory to the corners of the land and rally them for a gathering on the evening of the ’morrow. What would he tell them? That they were to fight or flee Campbell? Those seemed the only options available. He stared down at the glen with Sabine so very close beside him. There had to be another way out of this incredible mess.

“Tell me of your people,” Sabine said, “as I can see the whole of your kingdom from here.”

She was right in a way. From this summit one could see all of the bens and glens that made up MacGregor lands as long as the name had existed. Niall thought he could find solace here, by seeing the land from a hawk’s view, knowing how bloody important it was to preserve it, seeing how fragile it all looked from such a great height.

Niall shifted on the rock. He reached into the swag of plaid across his chest and withdrew two apples. He dropped one in her lap. She looked at the fruit then at him.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“
Oui
, but does this mean you do not want to tell me about your people?”

“Oh, aye, I do,” Niall said taking a bite of apple. “Eat and I will.”

Sabine took the apple and bit into it. A trickle of juice glistened at the corner of her mouth as she chewed. He swiped it away with his thumb and made her smile. She quickly looked away, down the side of the ben. What was she denying herself? Or did she think of him as a common outlaw like the rest of Scotland?

“MacGregors are the scourge of the Highlands,” he said. “’Tis a reputation I did nothing to perpetuate, nor did any of my clan, or the clan before them. The hatred for the MacGregors travels so far back through the ages the bards dinnae ken how it got started. To my mind ’tis land, ’tis always land.”

Sabine glanced about her. “Land.”

“The head of Loch Katrine is considered a valuable waterway. It flows to the firth, to Leith and beyond. The clan who controls Loch Katrine can control trade from the Highlands to…anywhere.”

“And your clan does this trading?”

“We protect those of us that do from time to time. There’s not much trade from the Highlands…yet. I hope that one day we can trade wool from our lands, we have enough bloody sheep, a muckle wool, enough to trade.”

“’Tis your dream? To bring commerce to these wild lands? ’Tis a good dream.”

“A daft dream,” Niall scoffed. “As long as my clan are outlaws. Our name is tainted because others have wanted what we have, and because we have held fast to it, died because of it.”

He looked to the south where the mist had begun to clear in the sunlight, to the dark mirror of Loch Katrine. The head of the loch broke into the glen like a jagged piece of mirror.

Sabine cradled her body into his.

He gently rubbed her back, gliding his fingertips along her spine. How he wished there were not the barrier of her fine brocade between them. How he wished….

Her bottom lip trembled slightly.

“Tell me your mind,” he said stroking the side of her face with the back of his hand.

“Campbell planted a false face against me to my queen. I don’t know why.”

“I do,” Niall said. “But ye willnae like it.”

“Tell me,” she quietly demanded.

He sighed. “Campbell has asked to marry one of her court that, to him and the queen, needs charity. Most important to Campbell, this person who is, say,
different
, could be suspect if harm were to fall on the queen’s head. I know the mettle of this man, how he feels about anyone who is different, or who he feels isnae worthy of him. He wants them gone.”

“Like Rizzio,” she said with a shudder. “And me.”

He looked at Sabine’s profile, at the tilt of her strong chin.

He allowed his fingertips to glide over one soft cheek. “A fair
mademoisell
e shouldnae know such strife or such evil.”

“I have known…” She took in a long sigh. “I do not wish to plague your thoughts…or mine anymore.”

Sabine burrowed her face into the side of his neck. Moist warmth touched his flesh. She was crying. What she said next tore a lightning swath across his soul.

“Do not send me back to Campbell.”

Niall held her tighter. Her body shivered in his hold.

“Why would ye think that I would send ye back to that bastard?”

“To save your clan,” came the muffled reply. “So, he would not come here, after me.”

“He doesnae know where we are. Nor would he dare come if he did.”

Niall stared at her face. More lovely than the glen in spring, more lovely than anything he had ever seen in his entire life.

“I give ye my word that ye will never go back to Campbell.”

“Your word?”

“A MacGregor’s word is not to be taken lightly. Our strength is in our word. But if ye need proof….”

He kissed her. He took the lingering taste of apple into his mouth and he kissed her, tasted her, wanted so much more. Sabine surrendered easily into his arms. She took his kiss and made it her own. Niall was only too happy to give her more to prove that his word and his will were hers. She should always feel secure with him. Whatever demons touched her past, whatever secret she could not reveal to him, did not matter now. He would vanquish those demons with one kiss, with many more if necessary, if that was what it took to bring her into his arms for an eternity.

He vowed to himself never to let her from his sight, as long as she deemed to stay.

Sabine broke the kiss. “I cannot stay here forever,” she said, the tears welling in her eyes again. “I am not a part of this place. Your
mere
knows this all too well. I cannot cook. I can sew, a little. But this Highland life I do not know. I will not be welcome.”

“Dinnae say such,” Niall said. “Stay here. Remember I am chief…
king
…of the MacGregors.” He grinned. “They will do as I command…even my mother.” Of course what he said was pure tripe. His mother obeyed no one but the Almighty. But his words did bring a small smile out of Sabine. Oh, aye, that it did.

“I do believe you,” she said, swiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her damaged hand.

“I know ye do,” he said.

“How?” she asked.

“Because ye havenae once asked for your purse and the gold within, even when ye lost your good sense when ye thought I would send ye back to Campbell.”

She blinked. “
Mon Dieu!
Niall! My
sac
…I…I—”

“Havenae cause to need it when ye’re with me, aye?”

She paused, then smiled. “
Oui
, it is true, but where have you hidden it?”

“Nearby, ’tis safe.”

“My
sac
isn’t the only thing safe here,” she said.