Beloved Highlander

She had dreamed of all-consuming love, of wild passion, of tears and joy, with all the highs and lows such a love would bring her. Loving so fiercely might make her cry, sometimes, but at least she would feel alive. She would be alive.

Instead, the motto for her marriage was to be convenience and necessity.

The priest arrived in the late afternoon. Meg happened to be passing the windows that looked out upon the yew tree avenue. She watched as the old man on his ancient horse, surrounded by the men of Glen Dhui, made his way toward the castle. Except there was an unexpected visitor among them. A straight-backed man in a red coat and buff breeches was riding with them. It took only a moment for Meg to recognize Major Litchfield.

During his stay at the military post, the major had come often to Glen Dhui to visit her father. At least, she had always believed it was her father he had come to visit—now she was not so sure. She hesitated, watching the men approach, wondering why the major was here now. But there was too much else to occupy her. The food was almost ready, the Great Hall had been made up into a bower of leaves and branches and flowers. Her father had donned his best clothes and had found a wig to wear that he had bought once in London, and she had chosen, with Alison’s help, her wedding gown.

Now that the priest had arrived, all was ready.

The moment had come for her convenient marriage.

“Ye look beautiful,” Alison assured Meg, surveying her with a satisfied smile.

With her long auburn hair loose down her back, and simply caught up from her face at the sides with narrow green ribbons, and her favorite green silk gown rustling about her as she walked, Meg did look beautiful. Though she didn’t feel it. She felt…well, she felt like herself. Plain Meg Mackintosh—the same as always. Alison had dusted powder over her face, but the freckles were still there. It seemed like a sign, a reminder that no matter how she tried to deck herself up in her finery, she was the same woman, the same Meg—and she always would be.

Downstairs the noise was deafening. People from up and down Glen Dhui were arriving, eager to participate. The general had sent a messenger on horseback through the glen, spreading the news and inviting all to come to the laird’s house for the celebration. Even at such short notice, they had dropped everything and come, wearing their best clothes, and with a determination to enjoy themselves.

In the Great Hall, children squealed, women chattered and men laughed, spilling out into the balmy evening, taking up every available space. The general had had his chair placed in the very center of the hall, so that he could greet the guests as they arrived and converse with the rest. So that he would not miss a single moment.

Meg knew she should go down now, and see that all was well. There were probably some last minute problems, and she was the one that everyone looked to to do the solving. And besides, she should show the people her face; they would be expecting a smiling bride. The fairy tale could not be complete without a happy bride.

Meg took a deep, steadying breath.

She was about to wed Gregor Grant. The priest was awaiting her, her father was awaiting her, the guests were awaiting her.

And Gregor, her bridegroom, was waiting, too.

“Are ye ready now, my lady?” Alison sounded slightly anxious.

“Almost, Alison. Just a moment.” Meg fiddled with the ribbons in her hair. “You have had no more ‘feelings,’ Alison?” she asked, more to delay leaving the room than because she really wanted to know. Alison had not mentioned any forebodings of lat

e.

Alison’s brow had furrowed at the question, but her eyes were clear. “I think there is a shadow ahead, my lady, though ’tis not clear. Ye must make merry tonight.”

“You told me that Captain Grant would bring trouble to us, do you remember?”

Alison nodded. “Aye, that I did. And I do see trouble, now he is here, but I dinna believe anymore that he is the cause of it. The shadow has been coming for a while, Lady Meg.”

“What is this shadow then? Is it Abercauldy?”

“I dinna know, but I do know this: There is light through the shadow, on the other side. Ye must look through it, toward the light, my lady.”

All very well, thought Meg in frustration, but how did one do that?

Alison touched her hand, her eyes warm, her mouth wide in a smile. “Dinna be afeared. If I see more I will tell ye soon enough. For tonight be merry, my lady. Be happy! That is my advice.”

“Thank you, Alison.” Meg returned her smile, still hesitating.

Alison gave her a little push. “Go!”

That made Meg laugh. What was she afraid of? They were all her friends, after all. Picking up her skirts, Meg took her courage in her hands and left the sanctuary of her room for her future.

“It seems I must congratulate you.”

Gregor turned and met Major Litchfield’s direct gaze. The other man appeared sincere, but there was a forced look to his smile that spoke of a personal disappointment. Perhaps he had had hopes of winning Meg for himself—[ ]Gregor had thought so, when he had seen the major speaking to Meg at the pass. There had been something eager in Major Litchfield’s eyes that had dumped a thick wave of jealousy on Gregor, despite the fact that he knew he had no rights to Meg. No, she hadn’t belonged to him then, but neither had he wanted anyone else to have her.

Did Meg realize the major was interested in her? Surely, if she did, she would have turned in his direction rather than Gregor’s? It was clear she trusted him, leaned upon him, and the general liked him, too.