Beloved Highlander

“You can’t, Meg! You are a strong woman, and I am proud of you, but you cannot survive against such men as these. They will hunt you down, and when they have you cornered, they will take what they want.” His voice broke, and that he was so upset and genuine in his concerns only made the whole thing worse.

Meg’s chest was tight; she didn’t feel as if she could get enough air. Why would he not listen to her? Why would he not believe she was perfectly able to run her own life?

“Meg,” he began again, shaking his head, and to her horror, she saw that his eyes were wet with tears. “You think I do this for Gregor, don’t you? I admit it would give me pleasure to see the lad returned to Glen Dhui. He never followed the white cockade, ’twas his father who did that, and Gregor lost the estate through love and loyalty to his Jacobite father, when such should have won him high praise. Aye, he deserves to have his lands returned to him. But I am thinking of you. I need to know you are safe, Meg, before I die. Think, Meg! It is such a perfect answer, it is right. A Grant and a Mackintosh founding a dynasty at Glen Dhui. And most important of all, you would be safe….”

Safe from everyone but Gregor Grant, Meg thought bleakly.

The appalling realization struck her that her father had already spoken of his plan to Gregor, and that Gregor had known all last night. He had known, and said nothing.

She replayed their moments together, until she came to the scene in the herb garden, and each word and each touch suddenly took on an entirely new meaning. What had seemed magical and special now had a darker significance. Had he been manipulating her? Laughing at her? All of Meg’s feelings of inadequacy came to the fore, her sense of not being beautiful enough, of being pursued for her money alone. He could not possibly want to marry her, not really, so why had he held her so tight?

Glen Dhui.

Of course. Meg had learned already that he was mercenary, that he had little honor remaining. The answer was simple. His need for Glen Dhui was so great that he would do anything to get it back.

“What did Captain Grant say when you put this monstrous idea to him?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion. “What did he say, Father?”

The general appeared puzzled. “He said yes. Of course he did. Gregor’s no fool. But he made the condition that y

ou agreed to it with your own mouth. Gregor can see that the offer is a good one, for both of you, Meg.”

The breathless feeling was choking her. Meg stood up, walking to the other side of the room, and then back again. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room, and she pressed a hand to her chest.

“Father, I cannot…I cannot…”

“Meg, my dear daughter, calm yourself! If you have a dislike of Gregor I would not expect you to…we will think of something else.”

The casement was open. Meg leaned upon it, thrusting her face into the cool evening air. She drew in a deep breath, and then another. Marry Gregor Grant?

The idea was preposterous.

Marry the former Laird of Glen Dhui, to protect herself from Abercauldy, to return to Gregor what he had lost twelve years ago?

It was…

Be Gregor Grant’s wife and wake up with him every morning? Have the child she had dreamed of only this afternoon, the child who would never be forced from his home by circumstance? Live out her life here, in the place she loved, with the man she…

Dear God, she was considering it.

She was actually considering it!

“Meg?” Her father sounded uncertain, unlike himself. Meg took another deep breath and turned to face him. He had stretched his hand out toward her, and now she came to take it. “Meg.” He sighed.

“Have I done the wrong thing again? I thought only to…I wanted to help…”

Meg knelt by his chair and pressed his hand to her cheek. “I know. I know that’s why you did it, Father. And I will think on it. I promise you, I will think on it before I make my decision.”

He nodded. He looked very tired. Meg felt the familiar guilt, that her headstrong behavior had done this, her selfish desire for her own way. Why could she not be like other daughters, content to follow their fathers’ advice, content to travel the path that was laid out for them, to marry men they didn’t know and to live in their shadow? Why did she have to be different?

“Sleep now,” she said gently. “I will send one of the servants up to help you to bed, Father. Do you want a hot posset? Shona has left one of her special powders for you to take to help you sleep.”

He nodded wearily. “Aye, that would be very nice, Meg. I need to sleep. I have been thinking and thinking, trying to discover a way out of our maze of troubles. I do not think I have slept properly since Shona came to tell us the truth about Abercauldy’s wife.”

“Well, you can rest easy,” Meg told him firmly. “It is up to me to decide what will be done now. You have done all you can, Father. Will you promise me you will sleep, and you will not worry?”

“Very well, Meg.” He reached out and patted her face.

There was no doubt in Meg’s mind that her father had acted with her interests at heart—he had found a strong man to protect her, now and when he was gone. He had solved all their problems to his own satisfaction.