Beloved Highlander

Gregor thought for a moment. General Mackintosh was right, there had been times when he’d wished himself elsewhere—even dead! But he had survived, and now there was a kind of pride in that fact. “Whatever I thought then, I am grateful now. My life has not been too unbearable.”

The general sighed. “Maybe, maybe. Do you know, you were the reason I came to Glen Dhui? I heard it was taken from you, and I was close by, on another matter, and I had an urge to see it. So I came.” He smiled. “I do not pretend I thought of you when I bought it, Gregor. As soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted to live here. I told myself that it was far better I had the Glen Dhui estate than someone who would not care for it and its people beyond the money to be made. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of tenants being turned from their crofts to make way for black-faced sheep? But the real reason was entirely selfish. I fell in love with your glen, lad.” Gregor went to speak but the general did not let him. “Well, I have been a good master, I think. I have been a better master than I have been a father.”

“Why am I here?”

There, the question was spoken. The general hesitated, his fingers restlessly tapping now on the chair arm. Gregor leaned forward and covered them with his own hand, surprised by the other man’s bony fragility. The answer stopped his breath.

“I need you to marry Meg. I want you to wed her and protect her with your name. Abercauldy will be angry, but if Meg is wed to another he will no longer be able to pretend everything will go on as he wishes. He will have to open his eyes to the truth. And I hope, with time, he will accept matters and turn his dangerous sights elsewhere.”

It was so like his own thought, earlier, in the Blue Saloon. Wed Meg? Marry Meg Mackintosh? What would that make him? Laird of Glen Dhui, again?

The blood drummed in his ears, the lightheadedness returning. Laird of Glen Dhui. Home, home again for good. Or at least until Abercauldy sent his army in to drive him off. Or kill him.

“Gregor?”

He felt the general’s fingers turn and clasp his, squeezing hard, bringing him back to the dim room and the scents of the glen through the open window.

“Gregor?”

“I am all right. Just…I am tired. There was a fight in Clashennic. My arm…”

The general frowned, leaning forward. “You were hurt, lad? Meg did not tell me this!”

“I…’Tis nothing. Are you serious in this proposal, sir?”

“Of course. I never say anything if I do not mean it.”

Gregor laughed despite himself. “No, ye never did! Sir, I…I dinna think I am the man for this. Your daughter wouldna wish…”

“She has to marry someone, Gregor. It is the only way out of this mess. If she is wed, then Abercauldy cannot have her. It is not a perfect solution, I know, and there will be problems and likely repercussions, but Meg will be safe and that is all that matters to me now. I did not want her to wed someone from the glen, a Duncan Forbes or Jamie Farquharson. I did not want her to wed a finely tailored gentle-man from Edinburgh, or some Highland chieftain with more hair than wit. I have thought of it long and hard, and it seemed that you were the only one. I am thinking of Meg, Gregor, but it is also the fact that you lost Glen Dhui twelve years ago, and now you can have it back.”

So Glen Dhui was the bait. Not Meg. Not Meg with her flaming hair and blue eyes and sweet lips. And her delicious curves. The general thought to tempt him with the glen, so that he would not mind if he had to wed Meg. Strangely, it wasn’t Glen Dhui that was in the forefront of his thoughts at the moment.

It was the general’s daughter.

“I could not marry her if she dinna wish it,” he said, and marveled that he was even contemplating it. Did that mean he was willing to do it? That he was agreeable?

“She will wish it.” The general said it grimly.

“From her own mouth, sir. I willna wed an unwilling woman. I dinna know if I will wed any woman, but in the circumstances I…I need to speak to Lady Meg.”

The general gripped his hand harder. “Not yet, Gregor lad. Not until I have spoken to her. Let me talk with her, reason with her,” he ignored Gregor’s laugh, “and then you can broach the subject. Is it agreed then? Will you do this? Will you wed Meg and regain your lost lands?”

Gregor closed his eyes. Madness, it was all madness, and yet he heard himself saying, “Aye, sir, I will. If she is agreeable.”

Meg sat, staring into nothing, as Alison brushed her hair. The flaming tresses tumbled and curled about her, clean again from the bath Meg had taken earlier. Alison’s care helped take some of the sting out of her father’s stubborn refusal to share with her his reasons for bringing Gregor Grant to Glen Dhui.

“Lady?”

She blinked, looking up to meet the other woman’s dark gaze. Alison’s face seemed very pale. Meg remembered, uncomfortably, that there was more than herself suffering here.

“I am sorry about Malcolm Bain,” she said gently. “Why didn’t you tell me? You never spoke of him. It was not until Duncan told me that I—”

“Duncan had no right.”

“I thought we were friends.”

Alison twitched uncomfortably.