His craggy face was ravaged, his blue eyes swimming with pain and regret, and it was at that moment that Alison decided she would not hold on to her bitterness and anger any longer. She had justice on her side, perhaps, but what was the use of being right if it meant she was unhappy? She had loved this man, and she thought she just might love him still. He was Angus’s father. And he was a good man, a fine man. Was it possible that they might make a life together, now, and put the past behind them?
If he came back to her from Abercauldy.
Alison kissed his rough cheek. And then kissed the other. He went still, staring at her in wonder, and she kissed one eye closed and then the other, and then she kissed his mouth. She had forgotten how soft his mouth was, how tender—an odd contradiction on such a rugged-looking man.
“Alison,” he moaned, and his arms came around her, bringing her closer. “Oh, Alison.”
“Malcolm Bain, my dearest, mo nighean, I’ve missed ye so much. Oh, so much.”
And then she couldn’t say anymore, because he was kissing her too desperately. And besides, what else was there to say?
Chapter 26
Meg woke abruptly.
Gregor was already up, dressing, buckling his belts about him, sliding his sword into its place. He looked at her, his expression grim in the dawn. Morning had crept through the window, stealing from them what might have been their last night together.
“Rest,” he said softly, attempting a smile.
Meg sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “There will be time enough to rest later,” she told him evenly. “I will go and see to your food and drink.” She swung her shawl about herself and, on bare feet, moved past him toward the door.
His arm slid around her, pulling her against him. His face was pressed to her hair, and she clung hard, feeling him breathe. With a sigh, he released her, and Meg hurried out of the room, her face streaked with tears, down the stairs to the kitchen.
Alison was already there, with a pot of porridge steaming over the fire, meat and kale laid out on the table, and a large jug of ale on a tray. She looked up, and Meg saw that she was pale and tired, as if she, too, had had little or no sleep. There was also a bruise upon her neck.
Concerned, Meg moved forward, but something in Alison’s avoidance of her eyes, something in the way she became suddenly very busy, stopped her.
“The men are waiting,” Alison said over her shoulder. “Is the laird up?”
“He’s just dressing now.”
“I will see everyone is fed before they go.”
“Thank you, Alison.”
“At least we can do that for them, Lady Meg. And pray that they come home safe.”
They looked at each other in perfect understanding of the travails of women who bind their lives to those of fighting men.
The bruise on her neck was from a man’s kisses, Meg realized abruptly. Alison and Malcolm Bain had made their peace with each other, and she gave thanks for it.
Gregor’s step sounded behind her, and his hand rested warm and heavy on her shoulder. “Alison,” he said, with a nod in the other woman’s direction; then his gaze was on Meg, and she found she could not look away. He was memorizing her, every feature of her, everything about her. As if he would never see her again.
Meg’s heart stammered and stuttered, but she forced her fears away and made herself smile up at him. “You must eat,” she told him softly. “Who knows when you will get the chance again?”
He nodded, and sat down at the kitchen table while Alison doled out spoonfuls of porridge. Then she carried out the pot, with the help a sleepy-eyed Angus, to feed the rest of the men. When she returned, Malcolm Bain was with her. He glanced at Gregor, but his eyes soon returned to Alison, watching as she hurried about the familiar kitchen, absorbing her into his memory.
Gregor had finished; he rose to his feet. Meg followed, more slowly, realizing that this was the moment. He was going. It was real. And there was nothing she could do about it.
“I am leaving enough men here to keep you safe,” he said. “If you are at all worried, then send to the military post for soldiers, or ride there yourself with a guard. They will protect you.”
“Don’t worry for me.”
Gregor laughed shakily. “Och, Meg, how can I not?”
Meg put her arms about him and held him fiercely. “I will be fine, as long as you come home to me again.”
He found her mouth, kissing her with a savage desperation that made her taste blood, and then he was setting her from him, calling for Malcolm Bain, who was cradling Alison in his arms. Malcolm Bain ruffled Angus’s hair as he passed, making it as wild as his own.