Beloved Highlander

So, what was she hoping for? Meg wondered as she walked. That Gregor would drive the poor unfortunate Barbara from his door? Remembering his wounds, remembering stitching the sword slash on his arm, Meg knew that secretly that was her hardhearted hope. That he would loudly declare his love for Meg, and tell Barbara to be gone. Well, that was all very well, if she were watching a melodrama upon the stage, but it was doubtful that could be true life.

He does not love Barbara, she assured herself as she walked. How could he, after she had turned from him, after he had won a duel for her? He must despise her. Or maybe he was just heartbroken? And now that she was returning to him, begging for his help again…

Meg had known her happiness would have a limited time—it was far too wonderful to be the forever kind. Would her role as Gregor’s wife now go into its next phase—the helpmeet, the fellow ruler of Glen Dhui, the kind smile and sympathetic ear, and occasionally, the warm body in his bed? But the last would be a rare thing indeed, and would be restricted to procreation. Because they would need children, wouldn’t they, to inherit Glen Dhui? So whenever Gregor came to her bed, she would know it was purely to make an heir….

Something hot and wet trickled down Meg’s cheek, and she put up her fingers to it, surprised to find she was crying. Meg never cried. For a moment she was too shocked to do anything, and then she wiped her face dry. A shaky laugh, and she shook her head at her own stupidity. She was not usually prone to flights of fancy, except where Gregor Grant was concerned.

“He won’t turn to Barbara,” she told herself firmly as she walked. “Of course he won’t! He’s your husband, you foolish lass!”

But her words sounded blighted. As if she were shouting them against a thunderstorm, with no hope of being heard.

Gregor had been upstairs to Meg’s retreat, but it was empty. Only her perfume was there, to remind him of her. The smell of it was enough to make him twitch all over, thinking of her and the way she felt in his arms, the sounds she made when he did certain things to her.

Disappointed—he had been looking forward to another tryst on her desk—he wandered back to the head of the stairs. Voices in the Great Hall caught his attention. Curious, he looked over the banister and felt a jolt of recognition right down to his toes.

“I’m sorry I told you I was his kin,” that familiar voice was saying. That sweet voice he had last heard on a cold, misty dawn, sobbing for forgiveness in Airdy’s arms, while Gregor stood over them, dripping blood and wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now.

Barbara? Barbara Campbell, here?

“I was so frightened, Shona,” she said, as high and clear and innocent as a child. “I dinna know what to do. I said the first thing that came into my head. I do that. Gregor will tell you, I am sadly scatterbrained.”

Gregor flinched. She made it sound as if they were still…Abruptly, his eyes narrowed. Where was Meg?

Down in the Great Hall, Shona was making soothing noises, while Kenneth stood back and watched the scene with cool eyes. Alison Forbes was hovering in the doorway to the Blue Saloon, a little frown twitching between her dark brows, and her brother stood behind her. But no Meg.

Gregor all but groaned aloud. Barbara Campbell, here at Glen Dhui! That was all he needed! As if the Duke of Abercauldy and Lorenzo were not meal enough, he had to have the sly-tongued Barbara on his plate as well. He wished her and Airdy to farthest ends of Scotland, and felt inclined to tell her so.

At that moment she looked up. That blue gaze, so different from Meg’s, fastened on him like a bird of prey. Predatory and selfish, that was Barbara, while Meg was warm and generous and good. He watched, appalled, as her eyes filled with tears, and then she was running, but in an elegant sort of way, up the stairs toward him, all the while making little gasping sounds. She was wearing a yellow gown he remembered that he had bought her when she claimed Airdy was too mean to do so. He could ill afford it, but he had thought at the time she looked damned pretty in it.

Now the sight of her left him cold.

“Barbara,” he said in a flat voice, “what the blazes are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, she flung herself at him, almost knocking him on his back, and he had no choice but to catch her if he wasn’t to tumble over the railing with her on top of him. As his arms went around her she burst into noisy sobs, clutching at his shirt with fingers that felt more like a hawk’s talons. She was soft and her hair brushed his nose, and once he would have melted at the sight and touch of her.

Now the very feel of her repelled him.

This was Barbara Campbell, the woman who had humiliated him and left him to his fate. This was Barbara Campbell, who manipulated men for her own ends and pretended to be what she was not. And quite suddenly he realized he had had enough of her, and women like her. Give him Meg any day! A woman who spoke the truth and looked a man in the eye, who smiled when she was happy and cried when she was sad, and none of it was to get her own way.

Women like Barbara had too easily manipulated him, perhaps because of his mother, the queen of all manipulators. But no more. He would never again jeopardize his life for such a paltry reason, the life that Meg had given to him….

Gregor opened his mouth to tell Barbara she had to go, and his gaze slid beyond her, down the stairs, and found Meg. The words died in his throat.

She was standing as if she had turned to ice, her hands at her sides, her head tilted up. But there was nothing icy about her expression. She looked as if someone had run her through with a sword, and it had hurt. It had torn her apart.

“Meg?” he cried, and then realizing that he still held Barbara Campbell in his arms, tried to set her aside. She clung even harder, sobbed even harder, and he struggled with her, cursing her under his breath. When he finally managed to get her away from him, and looked again to where Meg had been standing, he saw only empty space.

Meg had gone.

Bewildered, Gregor turned to look about the Great Hall from his vantage point on the top landing. The fact that Shona and Kenneth were there surprised him, and then Malcolm Bain, glaring up at him for some reason, Duncan looking pale beneath his tan, and Alison peering at him in open-mouthed astonishment.

Gregor came down the stairs, ignoring Barbara’s wailing and floundering behind him. “Where’s Meg?” he demanded an answer.

No one answered him. They looked embarrassed, except for Malcolm Bain, who looked angry.

“WHERE IS SHE?” he rep

eated, in his best Captain of Dragoon’s roar. Were they deaf? Or did they somehow believe that he would betray Meg with that foolish woman?