Highland Surrender (39 page)

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Authors: Dawn Halliday

BOOK: Highland Surrender
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“We’re not safe yet . . . though . . .”
Unsure where he was going with this, she simply waited for him to explain.
His hands tightened around her waist. “I want to marry you, Elizabeth. Today. Right now.”
Every nerve in her body flared to attention. Her spine straightened; her eyes widened. “What?”
“Marry me.”
“But . . . who will marry us? There is no minister here. The banns haven’t been read.”
“It doesn’t matter. All that is required in Scotland is a declaration of marriage by both parties. We needn’t have a church wedding, though we can do that later, and if there is no church wedding, the banns need not be read. All that we must do is agree that we’re married, and thenceforth we will legally be joined.”
She stared at him, astonished. “It cannot be that easy.”
“It is. Unless one of us were to deny it verbally, we would be married, with all the benefits and responsibilities such a bond entails.”
She absorbed this information in silence. All she’d need to do was say yes, and they’d be husband and wife in the early fog of a spring morning on the green banks of the loch.
His hands closed over her shoulders. “Do you love me?”
She remained silent.
“I love you, Elizabeth. I wish to care for you. I wish to keep you safe, always. The thought of your uncle hurting you, of Cam touching you—” He broke off, swallowed hard. His eyes darkened as he gazed down at her. “I won’t force you. If you don’t want this, I’ll find another way. But . . . I want you to be mine, by right and by law. I want you to belong to me. Not to your uncle, not for another day, another minute. Not to Cam. It is me you need.” He glanced at the ground and then back to her face. “And I need you,” he added quietly.
“You said we were too different,” she said. “You said I could not bear to live the life you lead.”
“I won’t lie to you. I won’t say it will be easy. I’ll be a fugitive now. Your uncle will pursue us, and perhaps Cam will too. But I’ll take that risk. And I think . . . I think after the choice you made last night for your maid that you will too.”
She nodded.
“I cannot offer you what you had, but I know now that’s not what you desire. The life I can offer you will be difficult, but I’ll be there. By your side. Taking care of you and keeping you safe.”
It was more than she’d ever hoped for. Not just a husband, but someone who understood her, who’d know how to protect her. Rob could do both better than anyone in the world.
Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands. The bristles on his chin scraped her palms . . . palms she supposed would be work-hardened and calloused soon enough.
“Marry me, Rob. Please. I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“Do you understand what you have walked away from?”
“Yes. My life as Lady Elizabeth is over. Lady Elizabeth is dead, and I’m happy for it. I wish for nothing more than to be reborn as Mrs. Robert MacLean.”
His eyes shone, and he bowed his head. “You honor me.”
“No. You honor me.”
He looked up, meeting her eyes once again. “You are my heart, Elizabeth. My soul. I will protect you and care for you. I will stand by your side, and I will love you until the day I die.”
It was a dream. She stared at him. “I . . . I never thought I was deserving of anyone’s love.”
“You were wrong,” he whispered. His hands slid down her arms until his fingers twined with hers. He spoke quietly. “It is as you said. We are two parts of a whole. Whenever I am with you, I am complete. I have never felt this way with anyone else.”
She could scarcely breathe. “I have felt the same way, from the beginning. I didn’t understand it at first—”
“Nor did I.” He lowered himself to one knee, and she dropped to her knees in front of him, keeping her hands clasped with his.
“I take you, Elizabeth Grant. I make you my wife in Inverness shire on the ides of May, 1717. I will never deny you, never betray you. I wish to make you mine and mine alone, and in return I will belong to you, flesh, spirit, and soul. I love you, and I will love you and keep you until the day my life ends.”
She tightened her fingers over his. “I take you, Robert MacLean. I make you my husband on this day, the fifteenth of May, 1717. I shall always love you. I want you to be mine, always, as I shall be yours. I shall love, honor, and obey you until I take my last breath.”
They knelt in silence, facing each other. Elizabeth stared into her husband’s face, and as the moments passed, the sun shone brighter, burning away the dark stains she’d thought permanently resided in her heart, burning away the morning fog. Bright, puffy clouds dotted the jewel-toned sky. A beautiful day for a beautiful new start.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Rob rose, tugging her up with him, and he gathered her in his arms, stroking her hair. Emotion resonated through his body as he held her tight, his fingers sifting through the long strands of her hair. “I love you too, Elizabeth,” he murmured. “So much it hurts.”
“We’re married,” she said softly. “Truly married.” She gazed up into his golden brown eyes. She spoke slowly, testing the words. “You are my husband.”
She could repeat the words all day long, for when she did, a primal joy surged through her.
“Aye.” He gazed down at her with that unfathomable expression. Yet his hands tightened possessively around her waist.
“It is right that we are married.”
“Aye. It is.”
“It is how it ought to be.”
“Elizabeth . . . if something should go wrong . . .”
Her eyes widened.
“Don’t panic,” he soothed. “We are safe, for now. But if something happens . . . if we are caught . . .”
“No—”
“I want you to go to Cam.”
“No,” she whispered.
“He will keep you safe if I cannot.”
No, no, no.
She didn’t want to think of this now. Not while the beauty of what had just happened between them still surged through her.
He pressed his finger to her lips. “Promise me, Elizabeth.”
“We’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Promise me.”
She allowed her heavy lids to sink and pushed out the words. “I promise.”
He bent down and kissed her tenderly, his lips stroking softly against her own. Holding him tightly, she kissed him back.
“Let’s go inside,” Rob murmured. “I wish to make love to my wife.”
 
Ceana trudged through the forest, her footsteps heavy. Full daylight bloomed over the land, promising warmth for the ides of May.
She’d made a decision. One that flayed her already broken heart.
She couldn’t remain in the Glen. So close to temptation. So close to disaster. The only solution was to return to Inverness. She knew many people there, and her healer’s skills would keep her, as they always had.
Before she left, however, Ceana must set aside time to do one thing. She couldn’t go without saying good-bye to Alan and Sorcha.
Sometime later, Ceana followed Sorcha’s maid through the entry hall toward the parlor. Though Sorcha and Alan had moved into their new manor house just a few weeks ago, Alan still supervised the finishing touches on the residence. It was beautiful, lavishly cared for, and so modern, with plastered walls and ceilings with fancy molding, wooden floors, and furniture imported from the Continent.
The house was a large rectangular building, a sparkling white gem on a high plateau, with a far-reaching view of the loch. On a clear day, one could see for miles up and down its shores, across to its steeply sloping opposite bank, and up to the tops of the snow-crested mountains.
Sorcha was embroidering when Ceana entered, and the babe slept in a cradle nearby. Ceana bent over him, and Sorcha rose to stand beside her.
Little Jamie had a round, cherubic face, and long, dark lashes that arced over his plump, pink cheeks. His lips were pursed and he sucked gently in his sleep, dreaming about his mama.
“He’s truly a love,” Sorcha murmured. “Such a sweet, happy lad.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Ceana took Sorcha’s hand in her own and squeezed. “You and Alan must be so proud.”
“We are.”
“And how are you, Sorcha?”
“I feel good as new.”
Ceana studied her for a moment. Her color was good, and she looked well rested. She supposed that was one of the benefits of being a laird’s wife—every woman of the clan was there to help with the babe at night. “Has your milk come in?”
“Aye, and he eats constantly.”
“Ah, well, that’s as it should be.” She tried to smile at her friend, but feared it fell flat. “Where is Alan this morning?”
“He’s in Glenfinnan meeting with his tacksmen. They’re debating whether to take the cattle to the shieling early this year.”
“I’m sorry to have missed him. I would have liked to say good-bye.”
Sorcha’s eyes widened. “But you’re not leaving us!”
“I am,” Ceana said somberly.
“Oh, no, you cannot!”
“I must.”
“Come.” Sorcha tugged on her hand and led her to the sofa at the opposite end of the room, giving them distance from the babe so they wouldn’t wake him. She nudged Ceana until she sank onto the soft lavender velvet, and then sat beside her, taking her hand again. “Tell me why you think you must leave the Glen. Is this Cam’s doing?”
“No!” Ceana hesitated. “No, it’s not his doing. But . . . it is because of him I must go.”
Sorcha’s frown deepened. “Why?”
Ceana took a breath. There was no reason to hide the truth from Sorcha; she didn’t doubt that the other woman would learn it eventually. Beyond that, however, Ceana needed someone to talk to, someone to understand. She had held it all in for so long. Too long.
“He wishes to marry me.”
Sorcha took a measured breath. “And this is a reason to run away?”
“You know I cannot marry. I am a MacNab.”
Sorcha huffed. “Your grandmother despised men, and now you insist you cannot marry one. Why do MacNab women insist upon dissuading the intentions of the male sex?”
“A curse was placed on the women of our family four generations ago. It forbids us to marry.”
“What is this curse?”
“If I agree to marry any man, he will die before the wedding takes place.”
Sorcha
tsk
ed. “A powerful curse indeed.”
“Even more so,” Ceana said quietly, “when you consider that all three of us—my grandmother, my mother, myself—tried to defy it. We all intended to marry, and we all lost what was most important to us. I know some might accuse me of succumbing to superstitious fancy, but I have lived through it once, Sorcha, and I could not bear to do it again. I couldn’t endure seeing Cam die because of me.”
She stopped talking to battle the encroaching tears, to calm her pounding heart.
“But if he loves you . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ceana whispered. “His level of love for me, great or small, will not affect the outcome.”
“Surely there must be some way to defy this curse!”
Ceana shook her head. “My grandmother tried. She spent many years trying to break it, from learning secret witch’s potions and chants to cloaking herself with the mantle of Christianity. None of it helped. By the time my mother reached womanhood, my grandmother thought she’d conquered it, and my mother was reckless. She suffered terribly.”
“Was it your father who caused her suffering?” Sorcha said quietly.
“Aye.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“So now you see why I must leave.” Ceana rose from the sofa. “I cannot stay here. I cannot resist Cam, knowing he is nearby. I will conjure excuses to visit Camdonn Castle, and he will invent ailments to come to my cottage. We will be lovers. Worst of all, he will be married.” Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, and she blinked hard. “I cannot bear to see him married to another, you see. But he must . . . he
must
marry Lady Elizabeth.”
 
Cam dismounted at Ceana’s cottage. Leaving his horse, he walked across the dew-covered grass to her door. When there was no answer to his knock, he pushed it open.
Every muscle in his body tightened. She’d been back, but she’d left again, and from the state of her cottage, he deduced two things. The first was that she’d gone in a hurry.
The second was that she was gone for good.
Within a quarter of an hour, he dismounted before Sorcha and Alan’s house. Leaving the horse and brushing past the servant who hurried to meet him at the door, he strode inside.
When he threw open the door to the parlor, Sorcha looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he reeled to a halt. She was seated on a sofa opposite him, her bodice open. She held the child at her breast, showing more of her white flesh than was decent.

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