Beloved Highlander

The truth was, Meg needed no assistance in such matters; Gregor understood that and was not foolish enough to offer it.

“There is a thing that has been worrying me, my lady,” Duncan went on slowly, looking down at his feet. “I dinna know what to do about it.”

Something worrying Duncan? Meg had always believed him to be so sure of himself that nothing worried him. He infuriated her sometimes, with his black-and-white view of the world and everyone in it.

“Well, then, tell me what this problem is. Maybe I can help.”

Duncan shuffled about, knocking against the thyme with his boot and sending the strong smell of the herb into the air about them. “Lady Meg, have ye ever done a thing because ye truly believed it was best for the person involved?”

“Do you mean, have I ever done a thing because I thought I knew best?” Meg smiled. “I think we have all done that, Duncan, at one time or another.”

Duncan managed a sickly smile in return, and shuffled some more.

Meg sighed, and rose to her feet, the scent of the lavender on her hands. “Tell me what is worrying you, Duncan, please!” she cried in exasperation.

Her tacksman looked up from his boots, and his dark eyes were bleak. “When Malcolm Bain left Glen Dhui that last time, my lady,” he said, with the air of one making his last confession. “When he left with the laird, he gave me a letter for Alison. He had tried to speak to her, but she wouldna listen to him. She ran off. So he gave me a letter instead. He said it was to explain, and I was to give it safe into her hands.”

Meg heaved a sigh, already knowing what he was about to say. “But you didn’t give it to Alison, did you, Duncan?”

“No, I dinna do it,” Duncan said with another sickly smile. “I had it in my head that it would be best if Alison thought he’d deserted her. Walked away without a backward glance. Then, I thought, she’d get over him the sooner. I was thinking of her, mind. She’s a Forbes and my nearest kin, and it was my duty to see to her welfare. I thought I knew what would be best for her, Lady Meg.”

“Oh, Duncan, you had no right to keep that letter from her! What did it say?”

“That he loved her with all his heart, but that he was bound by duty to go with the young laird. He said he would never forget her.”

“So, no requests to wait, or promises to return,” Meg murmured. But then Malcolm Bain was not a man to make promises he could not keep. He had made his choice, and left Alison behind, and if he now regretted it, ’twas too bad. “Well,” she went on, shaking off her melancholy mood, “it was a romantic letter nonetheless. Alison would probably have kept it. Has she ever loved another man?”

“I used to hope, but no, there’s never been anyone else.”

“Then she may as well have had the letter all that time ago. It wouldn’t have changed anything, would it? She must have loved Malcolm Bain very much, Duncan. You did her a disservice by keeping his good-bye from her, no matter that you believed you were doing what was best for her.”

“Aye, I know that now.” He scuffed his boots, hitting the thyme once again. “Do ye think I should tell her, Lady Meg?”

“Yes, I think you should. She has a right to know Malcolm Bain did leave her a letter when he went. He didn’t just walk out on her without a word, and that is what she still believes. It’s what you’ve allowed her to believe, Duncan. I do think it’s up to you to set it right. If you like, I will tell Malcolm Bain, but I will order him not to intervene.”

A flush had come into Duncan’s tanned face, but he accepted her words without argument. “Verra well, Lady Meg.”

“And Duncan,” as he went to walk away, “thank you for telling me. I am sure Alison will be cross with you, but just remember, when she has calmed down she will understand.”

Meg watched her tacksman leave, his head bowed, and hoped that was true. But if she was Alison, wouldn’t she want to know about the letter? Even if it was twelve years too late? Clearly Alison and Malcolm Bain had been very close, but maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Sometimes circumstances were such that they drove people apart, or forced them to go their separate ways.

Life could be cruel and difficult.

Gregor was right, it was best to take from it what you could, when you could, while you could.

Meg shaded her eyes against the sun, watching Duncan’s figure as it vanished around the side of the house. He was walking very upright and stiff, like a brave soldier going into battle. As Meg went to turn away, a movement caught her gaze, a splash of color through the green yews, a flounce of yellow on the gray stone bridge that spanned the burn.

A woman in a yellow dress.

One of her tenants, perhaps? But as Meg stared, she realized that there were two women and a man. They were approaching on foot, the man leading two horses. Meg soon recognized the dark head of Shona and the lighter one of Kenneth, her husband. But there was a second woman walking beside them, a woman in a bright yellow gown that swung and dipped to show her dainty ankles.

For some reason the sight of that yellow gown made Meg’s heart flutter.

Setting down her shears, Meg left the herb garden, closing the gate gently behind her. It was some time now since Shona had come to visit Glen Dhui. Last time she had come, she had brought lotions and potions, and her smile had made everyone lighter of heart. The

time before, she had brought fear and consternation with her story of the duke and his first wife, Isabella.

What would she bring this time? Meg asked herself anxiously.