Beloved Highlander

“It was difficult. Stories can be denied. I simply told him I no longer wished to marry him.”

“And?”

“He would not relinquish me. He is stubborn. He said he had his mind set on me. I said things…. I did not wish to enrage him, but I fear I have a sharp tongue, Captain Grant, and may have said things he did not like.”

Humor twitched briefly at the corners of the hard line of his mouth. “I fear you are right. Does he intend to move against you?”

“I don’t know. He is strange…unpredictable. Now I am afraid for the people of Glen Dhui as much as the general and myself. I have heard rumors that the duke is not a good landlord.”

She leaned closer still, searching his face for some clue as to what he was thinking.

“My father is too ill to lead his tenants into war like a good Highland chief, even if he thought we could win against such a man as the Duke of Abercauldy. Instead he thought of you. Once you were the Laird of Glen Dhui, and I believe the people still think of you as such. If it comes to a fight, then you have military training. That is why my father asked me to bring you to him, to take his place at the head of his men. He says you are our only hope, Captain Grant, and maybe you are.”

Gregor closed his eyes, easing himself in the chair to try and find a more comfortable position. There wasn’t one. He didn’t know Abercauldy. He had heard the name, of course, but nothing of the man behind

it. Abercauldy wanted Meg Mackintosh, but for herself or for the land to which she was heiress? And General Mackintosh! The last time Gregor had seen him had been twelve years ago, when he had stood, bloodied and shaken, over the body of the man he had just prevented from killing the general. They had been enemies, yes, but in Gregor’s mind hatred for one’s enemy did not strip one of humanity. A man should be judged for what he was, not for his beliefs.

What did General Mackintosh expect him to do now? Train the people for a possible war? He could do that, but it would not make success any more likely. The duke must have considerable resources at his disposal. What did Glen Dhui have? If the general was so ill, why did he not sell Glen Dhui to the duke and be done with it, retire to Edinburgh or Inverness and give his daughter some security?

He opened his eyes.

They were watching him, those pale eyes framed by silky lashes. There was a hint of something in her face that he had seen there before. Hope? Admiration? As if she expected him to behave like a hero and was waiting to have her expectations realized.

Hero? Gregor shook himself. He was not that and never would be. What had General Mackintosh said, that Gregor had saved his life at the risk of his own? He did not want the daughter to believe he was capable of anything so heroic. He was no hero. He had done things to survive that made him ache inside. He was nobody’s hero.

“So you want me to come with you to Glen Dhui, to help defend it against the Duke of Abercauldy?” he said coolly.

Her eyes flickered, as if she was surprised by his emotionless voice, but she nodded. “That is right, Captain.”

“And in return? What do I get in return?”

He could see his question had startled her. Good. She blinked, looked away, then back again. The expectation had gone from her face now, wiped clean. She looked a little shocked.

“What do you get?”

He nodded. “Did you expect me to do this from the generosity of my heart, my lady? I have nothing, I am nothing, but I do not risk my life for nothing.”

Slowly she nodded, but he thought he caught a flicker of disgust in her face. She was thinking he had no honor, that an honorable man would do this for the sake of the people of Glen Dhui and his family’s long tradition there. She did not know what it was to lose everything, then. She did not know how it felt to be dispossessed, with no hope of a future. He wasn’t that honorable fool anymore, he was a soldier who fought for whichever side offered him the most.

Better she learn it now and have no false ideas about his motives. And he was twice a fool, if such a thought caused him any concern. Gregor waited for her answer, ignoring the sense of regret gnawing at him for the change in her manner.

“We will pay you,” she said stiffly. “What is the rate for a mercenary these days?”

Those cool, hard eyes examined her again, and although she saw no expression in them she sensed he was darkly amused by her disapproval and disappointment.

“I’ll take what Argyll was paying me, that will do for a start,” he said. “I will get Malcolm Bain to fetch my belongings from the barracks, and take a letter resigning my commission.”

She wanted to ask him what he would do in the future if he was not a soldier, but he did not look like the sort of man to take her into his confidence. He had closed himself off from her, shutting her out as effectively as closing a door. Anyway, Meg was not sure she wanted it open. Did she really want to know what made him what he was? She had thought he would agree as soon as he heard what was happening at Glen Dhui. Not for her sake, but for the sake of the people who had once been his people. Instead he had asked about payment.

Meg supposed she could not blame him for his selfishness. He had to think of himself first, how else had he survived in this harsh world? And yet, still she had harbored some of her dreams. She had believed him to be a certain kind of man, and to discover he wasn’t had been a dissapointment. She would not be fooled again.

They were interrupted by Morag bringing food, and soon afterward by the return of Duncan Forbes. Duncan looked very relieved to hear Gregor would be returning with them, and was eager to carry the letter to the barracks.

“Will ye be fit to ride tomorrow morning?” he asked, looking Gregor over with a professional eye.

“Of course,” Gregor said coolly, his expression daring a dispute. “Wait, and I will write the letter.”

Paper and ink were found, and Gregor set to work. Meg sent for clean water and bandages, and when he had done, began without a word to unwrap his wound.