As High as the Heavens (16 page)

Fiona rose and hobbled over to join Heather at the
window. "I don't know if Duncan, being a man and all,
was sufficiently appreciative of what ye lost when Cuini
whelped on yer dress."

Heather gave a snort of disgust. "As a matter of fact,
nay, he wasn't."

"Well, then, I'd like to replace yer dress. It won't be so
fine as what ye lost," Duncan's mother hastened to add
when Heather turned a surprised gaze on her, "but, if I
do say so myself, I'm one of the best weavers in Kintail.
I could weave ye a good, warm tartan that we could sew
into a fine woolen gown."

"Och, it wasn't yer fault-or Duncan's, for that matter," Heather said, feeling instantly guilty for her meanspirited grumbling.

Fiona Mackenzie, from the moment of their arrival,
had treated them all with the utmost hospitality and
kindness. She couldn't help it her son was so maddening. He was, after all, a grown man and responsible for
himself. She'd not, however, Heather resolved, place additional burden on the already ailing woman in trying to
retaliate against Duncan's arrogant manipulations.

"It was my dog that did the deed," Fiona persisted.
"Besides, our life here in the Highlands is far more rough
than yers. Ye'll ruin more than one gown, I'm afraid, if
ye persist in wearing such elegant if fragile cloth."

She had a point, Heather admitted, glancing from her
silk to the other woman's sturdy tartan cloth skirt and
long plaid covering her shoulders. Fiona's clothing was
practical, sturdy, and warm, she added, noting, with a
small shiver, that silk was a poor insulator against a room
cool despite a roaring hearth fire. Why not take Fiona
up on her offer? Perhaps Duncan would treat her with
greater respect if she dressed more like his kind.

"That would be a wonderful idea," Heather said, managing a bright smile. "I wouldn't have ye do the work
without assistance, though. Beth could-"

"Hish, hinny." Fiona raised a silencing hand. "It
wouldn't be a fair replacement for what ye lost, if ye
or yer maid assisted me. Besides, when it comes to my
weaving, I can't say I'd take to much interference. Duncan says I'm quite protective of it, and I'd wager he's not
far from the mark."

Heather laughed ruefully. "Ye'll never convince him,
at any rate, that he's ever far from the mark." She sighed
and shook her head. "Truly, I've never met a more obstinate man."

"I'd wager not," Fiona chuckled. "Ye're a bright lass.
Ye bring out the fire in my Duncan. Still, though ye run
him a good race, I can't help but wonder if ye haven't
met yer match in my son."

"He's indeed a most unique man," Heather ventured
tactfully.

The conversation, she sensed, was beginning to take
a turn. She slanted Fiona a careful look.

"I know we've had our disagreements. I'm sorry for
that. It isn't proper behavior, neither for the teacher nor
the student."

"And is that all ye are to him, and him to ye, then?"

Heather's eyes widened. Beth's warnings had indeed
been disturbingly accurate. Others had noted the deeper
implications of her and Duncan's mutual animosity.

She looked to where her maid and Tavish sat across
the room at the small table, apparently engrossed in an
intense game of cards. Beth was so smitten with the big
Scotsman Heather doubted she even realized two other
people were in the room. There seemed little danger of
them becoming interested in her and Fiona's conversation, much less overhearing it.

"I don't know what ye mean," she hedged, turning
back to the older woman.

Fiona angled away from the window and leaned
against the wall. Remembering her swollen legs, Heather
almost suggested they go to her bedchamber to sit and talk. Then she reconsidered. The sooner this particular
conversation ended, the better.

"Don't ye?" Fiona cocked her head and smiled. "My
Duncan's verra attracted to ye. And, for whatever reasons
ye might have, ye encourage it."

Heather flushed. "I-I do no such thing! He's just the
most aggravating-"

"So, it's as I feared," the older woman cut her off
briskly. "Ye're equally drawn to him."

She sighed and shook her head. "Lass, lass. What do
ye expect to gain from this little game? Ye're a fine lady,
and my Duncan"-she paused and sighed again-"well,
suffice it to say, he can never be the man for ye."

So, Heather thought, Fiona was ignorant of her foster
son's true heritage. If she had known, she wouldn't have
spoken thusly, unless ... unless she sought to protect
his identity, not knowing the danger was past.

Heather was tempted to prod her further in the hope
of ascertaining what Fiona truly did and didn't know.
She quickly discarded that idea. What purpose would
be served at any rate?

"I don't expect to gain aught, madam," Heather replied instead. "And if I play some game, I'm unaware
of it. It isn't, after all, as if I'm experienced in this sort
of thing."

"Ye've never had a man court ye afore?" Fiona gave a
snort of disbelief. "Come, come, hinny. As bonny as ye
are, ye can't seriously expect me to believe that."

"It isn't the same, I tell ye!"

Exasperation filled Heather. How could she make
Fiona understand?

"Before ... before Duncan, I didn't care. There were
no men who ... affected me ... like Duncan does."

Fiona said nothing.

"Och, I feel like such a knotty-pated lack wit," Heather
cried softly. "I don't wish to act poorly toward Duncan,
truly I don't. But I also don't know what to do." She
reached out and took Fiona's hand. "Help me, I beg ye. I
no longer have a mither to speak of this with. And I don't
wish to cause Duncan harm in any way. Truly I don't."

For a long moment, Duncan's mother eyed her closely.
"The best course of all would be for ye to hie yerself back
home posthaste," Fiona finally said. "That being impossible, considering the queen's plight and all, ye must gird
yerself for the weeks and months ahead. Ye must, at all
times, maintain the most reserved air wi' Duncan and
speak wi' him only when necessary to teach him what
he needs to know. The rest of the time, when ye aren't
tutoring him, ye must take great pains not to spend wi'
him. And, above all, ye two must not e'er be alone."

"Aye, that's the wiser course," Heather said, nodding
in agreement. "It'll be hard, but if ye'll support me in
this ..."

"I will and gladly, hinny." Fiona's mouth softened. "I
don't wish for ye to be hurt but, even more so, I don't
wish for my son to suffer."

Heather nodded, and managed a wan smile. "Aye. It's
best for the both of us."

Fiona straightened and turned to go. "Aye, it is indeed.
But what is best," she muttered as she hobbled away,
"isn't always what hot-blooded lads and lassies get."

Heather, her glorious blond hair snagged up beneath
yet another cap, was squatting by the box holding Cuini
and her litter when Duncan finally returned to the cottage. She had one puppy clasped to her, cuddling it
closely. As the midday meal was nearly ready, he shot
her but a passing glance, then strode to the pitcher and
wash basin. In an effort to block out the freshened image
of her, all soft, curvaceous woman, Duncan gripped the
handle of the pottery pitcher tightly and poured out a
generous amount of wash water.

After cleansing his face, hands, and forearms, he dried
himself, then turned to his mother. "Do ye need any assistance, Mither? Wi' so many extra mouths to feed, I
know ye must toil far longer than afore."

Fiona made a dismissing motion with her hand.
"Dinna fash yerself, lad. Beth has helped me wi' the
meal, and Tavish even fetched the potatoes and turnips
from the cold cellar."

"And what of the Lady Gordon?" Duncan asked, of a
sudden inexplicably angry with her, even as he struggled
to remind himself she was a guest in their house. "Was
she too afraid of roughening those fine hands of hers
that she couldn't stoop to offer ye aid?"

"I didn't come here to cook and clean, Duncan Mackenzie," Heather snapped, drawing up at that moment
behind him. "I came to teach ye how to act the noble. Ye
seem determined, however, to squander what precious
little time we have."

Duncan turned on his heel to confront her. "And how
so, madam? Ye only arrived here yesterday."

"Aye, but today's half gone already and not even a
second has yet to be devoted to yer tutoring." She shook
her head, her mouth set in dour lines. "This won't do, I
tell ye. It just won't do."

He stared down at her, fighting with all his might not
to be taken in by the delicately carved profile lifted to
him, nor the pale, creamy skin and slim, pert nose, or
the full, finely molded lips. Saucy wench, he thought. If
she imagined she was in charge, she was sadly mistaken.
Though he had no intention of carrying through with the
suggestion that had just now flashed through his mind,
he couldn't resist the temptation to rile her a bit more
before firmly setting her back in her place.

"Well, then mayhap if ye won't assist my mither," Duncan drawled with a sly grin, "ye can assist me wi' my
chores."

Heather gaped in shock. "Are ye daft, man? How dare
ye suggest I work outside in this weather, unchaperoned,
and with the farm animals no less!"

"Ye wouldn't be unchaperoned. My father would always be about." Duncan shrugged, a twinge of shame
finally forcing him to back off. "But suit yerself. I won't
shirk my chores and load further work on my father's
back. He's sixty, ye know, and well past his prime even
for a Highlander."

"And what is that to me?"

"Naught, save ye could tutor me just as well in most
things while we work as if we sat here inside."

"Ye're impertinent and crude to suggest such a thing." Anger flashed in Heather's eyes. "Ye also, now that my
father and yer laird are gone, seek to turn the tables to
yer advantage. Ye're no man of honor, Duncan Mackenzie!"

"Mayhap not, but a little work never killed anyone." He
cocked his head and considered her closely. God forgive
him, but he couldn't decide if she were more exciting
angry or when she looked at him with those hungry,
needing, vulnerable blue eyes. "Though, of course, ye
could be the first, if ye're truly as frail and fragile as ye
make yerself out to be."

"I never claimed to be frail and-" Heather paused.
A light flared in her eyes. "If yer father needs help so
badly," she began again, nodding with sudden resolve,
"I'll give ye Tavish to take yer place. That will free ye to
work with me."

He should've known Heather would find some way
to slither free of the little trap he had set. It had been a
poor idea at any rate, engaging her in hard, filthy work
that would've quickly reduced her to exhaustion and,
hopefully, also taken the edge off her beguiling beauty.
Truly, he must be getting soft in the head even to consider
such a daft idea. Aye, soft in the head, Duncan admitted
ruefully, gazing down at Heather, and he had a certain
bonny blonde to thank for it.

"Well, if it would redeem yer low opinion of my
honor. . ." He stroked his jaw, pretending to consider
her offer.

"Och, aye. It would indeed," Heather cried a bit too
eagerly. She turned to Tavish. "Ye understand, don't ye?
I haven't any other choice. I must have sufficient time to tutor the Highlander. I wouldn't ask such a thing of
ye otherwise."

"Dinna fash yerself, my lady." Tavish walked over and
rendered her a small, stiff bow. "I'm not afraid of a little
hard work." He shot Duncan a black look. "Especially
aught any Highlander claims he can do."

Duncan chuckled. "Och, have no fear, Tavish, my lad.
We won't work ye beyond yer puny abilities. Indeed, I
haven't any intention of surrendering all my chores to
ye. I couldn't bear being cooped up inside all day, even
in the company of such a gracious teacher."

"It isn't for ye to determine the length of yer classes,
Duncan Mackenzie," Heather warned. "It's for me to
decide-"

"I'll give ye two hours in the morn," he cut her off
with an upraised hand, "two after the midday meal, and
two in the evening. That's six hours a day, more than
most could bear, I'm sure." He grinned wolfishly. "And
certainly more than ye'll be able to endure, dealing wi'
the likes of me."

"Fine." Heather sent him a seething look. "Fine. Ye're
most likely correct at any rate. Ye'd test the patience of
a saint, and no mistake."

"Then we're agreed?"

"Aye," she muttered, "but from here on out I set the
rules, not ye."

Duncan chuckled softly. "We'll just have to see about
that, won't we?"

Heather's chin lifted, and a resolute look gleamed in
her eyes. "Aye, we will indeed."