Beloved Highlander

Duncan Forbes stood behind him. Malcolm Bain could feel him, feel the disapproval, like pin-prickles on his flesh. And he didn’t need to turn and look to know what expression would be on the other man’s face. A sneer. Because he considered Malcolm Bain had betrayed and deserted his sister, all those long years ago.

And desert her he had, but it had not been an easy choice, and if he were to make it again…Well, such things as that were best not thought of when it was too late to do anything about them, and Malcolm Bain was never one to be crippled by regrets. In his opinion, life was the

re to be lived, and one had to just get on with it.

Malcolm Bain and Gregor had chosen a core of twenty men, to train up to the standards Gregor considered necessary. The rest of their small army could manage well enough, given orders to follow, but these twenty men had to be precisely taught and well drilled. It was Malcolm Bain’s job to see that they reached that standard in as short a time as possible.

Duncan had been watching, that sneer on his face, as if he could do better. He was almost as big a nuisance as the lad with the fair hair, who, whenever his work permitted him, hovered about on the edges of the training ground. As far as Malcolm Bain could tell, the lad was a servant in the big house, carrying wood and seeing to the horses. He was young, too young to grow a beard, but tall for his age, and with a keen eye. He was desperately keen to be one of the elite men Malcolm Bain was training, and desperately disappointed that he was too young.

Each of them was as big a nuisance as the other, thought Malcolm Bain, but at least the lad didn’t sneer. He just looked sort of wistful.

If Gregor were here, he’d have gone over to the lad, made him smile, made his eyes light up with hero worship. But Malcolm Bain wasn’t much good with children. He was used to shouting at tough, hardened old soldiers, and putting the fear of the devil into them to make them do as they were told. Children didn’t take much to being bawled at.

Malcolm Bain wasn’t certain what had gone on this morning—he had had other things on his mind—but after the duke’s men had come and gone, several of the Glen Dhui men had been sent off to fetch the priest, with instructions to bring him back, willing or no, and as quickly as possible.

At first Malcolm Bain thought the old man—the general—[ ]must be ill, possibly close to death for there to be such urgency. But shortly thereafter, he had been passing through the Great Hall and seen the general himself, descending the stairs on Gregor’s arm, looking as spry as a two-year-old.

It was Gregor who looked edgy. Pale and serious, his eyes shadowed. In Malcolm Bain’s opinion he had hardly slept a wink the past few days. Something was certainly up. And Lady Meg, following along behind the two men and hovering like a demented moth, looked as if sleep had been eluding her, too.

“We will have a banquet!” General Mackintosh’s voice had risen with excitement and echoed about them. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had something to celebrate at Glen Dhui Castle!”

Malcolm Bain thought it was interesting, how Gregor and Meg had, after one brief glance, worked hard at avoiding each other’s eyes. He suspected Gregor was playing the bloody hero again—dinna the man ever learn!

And now here was Duncan Forbes, creeping around behind him like the grim reaper himself. Suddenly it was all too much. Malcolm Bain spun around and strode quickly toward the other man. Taken by surprise, Duncan stumbled back a step, almost tripping himself over, before he regained his balance and stopped. The two men came face to face, barely an inch between them. Malcolm Bain was pleased to see Duncan’s eyes flicker.

“Have ye no’ something better to do, mon?” he asked in a low, tight voice. “If ye want to join in, then come and stand in line and I’ll see what ye are made of. Otherwise, get lost.”

“Ye are the one should get lost,” Duncan growled, pushing against Malcolm’s chest. “We dinna want ye here. Ye are no’ welcome.”

“Who are ye to say so, Duncan Forbes? Ye dinna own this place. I was asked to come here by Lady Meg, and I willna go until she tells me to!”

“Have ye no sense, mon! Go now, before ye ruin Alison’s life entirely!”

There was passion and anger in his voice, and something more, that stopped Malcolm Bain when he may well have punched Duncan in the nose.

“What is it?” he asked quietly. “There is something. Tell me, Duncan, tell me!” And he caught Duncan by the front of his shirt and shook him the way a terrier shakes a rat.

“Let me go—”

“Tell me! Or I’ll go to Alison now and ask her mysel’.”

Duncan’s eyes swiveled in his head.

“Be a mon and tell me to my face.”

The dark Forbes eyes flashed, and Duncan pulled away from the other man’s grip. “I’ll tell ye then,” he hissed. “Ye’ve ruined my sister, that’s what ye’ve done! Left her without a backward glance when ye had promised to marry her. Left her with a child in her belly, and no one to care for her or it but her own kin. No wonder she hates ye, Malcolm Bain! No wonder!”

Malcolm Bain was stunned, shocked into stillness. He did not feel Duncan pull away, did not see him walk away, shaking his head in disgust. He was adrift in a sea of memories. Alison’s smiling dark eyes and long hair, loose about her pale shoulders. Her body, soft and warm beneath his, and her cries of pleasure. He had loved her, thought to be forever with her, promised to care for her…

And instead he had left her.

Duncan was right. He had abandoned her, never thinking, never imagining she was carrying a child. His child. Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t she got word to him? Didn’t she know he would have come straight back to her? Nothing in this world would have stopped him, if he’d known.

And where was the child now? Was the boy here, at Glen Dhui? Perhaps he had seen him, smiled at him, spoken to him. All the while unknowing that this stranger was his son…

Malcolm Bain put his head in his hands and groaned.

He had thought to at least make amends with Alison, to try and patch over the past. Now he knew for certain he could never do that. She hated him, and she must have hated him all that time ago, if she had not told him. Aye, and her hate had only grown with each year since.