A Highlander’s Homecoming Read online

  His father’s large hand clapped down on his back, accompanied by the booming laughter he remembered so fondly from his childhood.

  “Aye, it’s good to have you home, son. And with a daughter as well! Perhaps ’tis a profitable score of years you’ve spent away from us, after all.”

  Robert’s step faltered and he stopped in his tracks. Score of years? Could he have heard his father correctly? No wonder everything was so changed. From everything he’d seen, he’d suspected they’d arrived later than planned, but not by this much. This was supposed to be the same year he’d left, not twenty years later!

  How could their plans have gone so wrong?

  Mairi’s parting advice about the Magic taking over danced through his mind as he tried to accept this unplanned change.

  Twenty years. Twenty years had passed since he’d last laid eyes on this world.

  What his eyes had shown him all made sense now. Little wonder his home looked so changed, his parents so much older.

  Twenty years. What else might have happened in twenty years’ time? A creeping fear spiraled through his gut at the thought. Had he completely failed his oath to Thomas? What might have become of his friend’s poor little daughter?

  Jogging forward, Robert caught up with his father, slowing his pace across the bailey to match his father’s halting limp.

  “I’m no as young as I used to be, Robbie. It’s good you’ve returned to take yer rightful place at the keep. With you and the lass here, I can put away any worries about what will happen when I’m gone.”

  “Da! You’ve no call to say such as that. You dinna look ready to pass on to me. No yet.” Robert smiled over at his father. “Besides, you’ve Richard here to look after things.”

  This time it was his father’s step that faltered and stopped.

  “Yer brother’s at Edward’s court, thanks to Elizabeth and her father. He calls himself an Englishman these days. He’s even taken the Hawthorne name.” Hugh straightened and started forward again. “He’ll no have any part in the future of MacQuarrie Keep.”

  Robert shouldn’t be surprised but he was. That, at least, explained the guard’s comment. It wasn’t bad enough that Elizabeth had broken his heart years ago. Now the red-haired bitch who’d used him as a stepping stone to get to his brother had managed to bring even more trouble to the MacQuarrie Keep.

  “Come along, lad. Yer mother’s no a patient woman these days.” Hugh chuckled as if he found his own words quite amusing.

  Considering twenty years had passed since he’d been here last, Robert had to admit he saw the humor himself, sad though it was.

  Inside the door of the keep a young boy took the saddlebags from Robert, racing away up the stairs, presumably to Leah’s new room.

  His mother waited at the bottom of those stairs.

  “You’ll have time to meet with his lairdship after the midday meal. For now I’d ask you to join me in my solar.”

  He glanced at his father, who shrugged indulgently. “Best no to keep yer lady mother waiting. Any longer than you already have, that is. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

  Robert nodded and followed his mother up the winding stone stairs to the second level of the keep.

  Just as he remembered, her solar smelled of flowers. Though he’d never stopped to consider it before, he realized she must keep dried bits and pieces tucked away in here. There certainly were no fresh bouquets available at the corner grocery in this time.

  “Where’s Leah?”

  His mother motioned for him to have a seat next to her in one of the large chairs drawn up in front of the fireplace before she answered. “With Maisey. She’ll bring the lass to join us here once she’s settled in.”

  “My Maisey?” Now there was a name that brought back memories. The woman had been nursemaid to both him and Richard for the first eight years of his life. “She must be ancient by now.”

  Margery smiled, pouring a cup of spiced wine and handing it to him. “Aye. At least as ancient as I am.”

  He felt his neck redden as he realized his words had slipped out before he’d had a chance to consider them properly. “No, my lady, I dinna mean to say . . . that is . . .”

  His mother lifted her hand to halt his ineffective apology, her smile even broader than before. “It’s no matter, lad. I’ve many a day where I do feel ancient. But enough of that. Today is no one of them.”

  She took a sip from her cup and fixed him with a look he remembered well from his childhood. A look that put him on notice of what was to come. His mother, perhaps the most gentle, most loving female to ever step foot in the world, had always possessed the ability to pin her sons to the spot with that look. As they’d grown older, he and Richard had compared her gaze to that of a falcon as it eyed its prey.

  “Perhaps you’d care to tell me where you’ve been this past score of years.”

  Stalling for time, he lifted his own cup to his lips and felt some of his apprehension slip away as he contemplated the story he would give her. The twenty years, though not at all in his plans, would actually make it easier to explain Leah’s presence: a marriage, a deceased wife, a daughter in need of a woman’s care. It would actually fit much more logically now.

  “And while yer at it, Robbie, you can tell me who the lass really is, no this made-up story of her being yer daughter.”

  The wine caught in his throat and he choked, coughing as he gasped it into his windpipe.

  His mother jumped from her chair, pounding him on the back while she lifted one of his arms above his head, just as if he were still a small child.

  When he’d recovered, she returned to her seat, once again fixing him with “the look.” “Well? I’m waiting. The truth, Robert.”

  He huffed out his breath, shaking his head. It was no use. He’d never once in the entirety of his life been able to sneak even the smallest deceit past this woman. How he’d ever allowed himself to consider the possibility he could carry this off was beyond him.

  “You’ll no believe me if I give you the truth,” he muttered. “And I’d rather no have you think yer son has gone daft.”

  “That’s my decision to make, is it no?”

  Clearly she would settle for nothing less than the full truth, but where would he even begin?

  “If I were to tell you a tale of magic and Faeries, what would you make of that, my lady?”

  His mother looked down at her cup, her fingers clenching tightly around the vessel. “She’s one of theirs, is she no? One of the Fae. She certainly has their delicate beauty about her.”

  It took a moment for him to realize his mouth had fallen open. His mother believed in Faeries? “How in the name of the saints . . .”

  He stopped himself from speaking, watching his mother’s grip gradually loosen on the cup she held while her expression calmed, as if she worked through some problem, at last reaching her decision.

  “You ken the existence of the Fae, do you?” he asked when he thought her ready.

  With a sigh, she slowly nodded, bringing her gaze back up to meet his. “Aye, son. I encountered one of them as a wee lass. I’d been allowed to accompany my father and brothers into Inverness for market day. The streets were crowded and we’d stopped at so many booths that morning, I’d grown tired, and gradually I fell behind the others.” Her eyes glazed over with the memory of her experience.

  “Go on,” he prodded, not wanting her to stop now.

  “I was terrified, unable to cease my tears. As I searched for my father, I found myself in a small alley, where a beautiful woman sat on the ground with her wares spread out on a cloth before her. She beckoned me closer and spoke kindly to me, assuring me I would find my family shortly. And though I dinna want to allow her to touch me, when she reached out to stroke my cheek it was as if I had no the power to move away from her. To this day, I remember her words, her voice, as if it were yestereve when I met her.

  “‘Have no fear,’ she said to me. ‘What you will do in life, the liv
es of those you raise, all are too important to the Fae for us to allow anything to happen to you this day. Hurry along, child. Even now your father searches for you.’”

  “I no ever heard you tell that story of yer childhood before.” Though certainly his mother had delighted them with stories of her youth their whole lives.

  “No. I’ve told that one only once, to my father, and no all of it at that.” She shook her head, the faraway look still in her eyes. “I felt as though my feet were bound to the alley and I couldna move, no even when the woman dropped a necklace of ribbon and stone over my head. She tucked the bauble down under my shift where it would be hidden, and told me I’d find need of it one day. When she finally removed her touch from my skin, I ran as fast as I could. Blindly, out into the thick of marketplace, weaving through the masses, straight into my father’s legs as if I were directed to him by a power not my own.”

  She paused to sip her wine once more, her expression returning to her normal composure.

  “And?” Robert encouraged. There had to be more to this fantastic tale.

  She smiled, again shaking her head. “I told my father of the beautiful woman and her words, but he dismissed it as nothing more than an encounter with a Tinkler, assuring me I was lucky to have escaped those who steal children as well as possessions. It was only after I was older I heard the other rumors about Tinklers.”

  “Other rumors?” Robert had read of them in history books. He knew that later they’d be persecuted as a people, driven from many places, and called by a variety of names, including gypsy.

  “Aye. Many of the Tinklers are thought to have connections with the Fae.”

  “Mother . . .” What could he say to her? He couldn’t very well tell her the Fae didn’t exist. Coming from him, that would be a lie she’d see through all too easily.

  After a moment of silence, she picked up the thread of her story as if it had never been interrupted. “To appease me, my father looked for the woman. Though we searched down many alleys that day, we never found any sign of her. And even at that age, even without having heard the rumors, I kenned the truth of what she was.”

  “What she was?” he echoed quietly, knowing before she spoke what his mother would say next.

  “She was Fae, Robbie. Telling me of my future. Sending me safely back to my family that day that I might fulfill some purpose for the Fae later in my life. She protected me.” His mother straightened in her chair with another smile. “As, of course, we’ll help you protect yer Leah.”

  “Divine luck was with you that day, my lady, that the Fae you met was kindly. No all of them are. Some who walk this world are fair evil and dangerous to their core.”

  “As with Mortals, no? You find yer good and yer bad in everything.” Margery tilted her head to the side, appearing to study her son. “I always believed you to be the reason the Faerie saved me that day.”

  “What?” His mother’s words caught him off guard.

  “From the moment I first felt you move within my belly, I believed you to be the one the Fae awaited. It’s why I was so sure you had to be alive, no matter what they told me. No matter how long you’d been gone. I kenned the Fae had a purpose for you, Robbie.”

  His mother was wrong, of course. The Fae hadn’t enough care for him to allow him to return to the proper time to keep his oath to a dying friend. Not enough care to allow him to rescue a small lass waiting for a father who would never return. It was obvious they had no more use for him than as a delivery boy.

  “It’s no me, mother. It’s Leah. The Fae she encountered were no the kindly ones. They ill-used the poor lass in many a horrendous way. I felt she’d be safe here. Safe to grow and recover with yer gentle help, if you’ll give it now that you ken the truth.”

  “If?” His mother’s eyes widened with her indignant disbelief. “Robert. You should no have the least bit of doubt in this matter. Especially now that I do ken the truth. For all the world to see, she’s yer daughter, and we’ll raise her as such. She’ll be cared for all her days, Fae or no.”

  “I’m not Fae!” Leah stood in the doorway, her face red in her anger. “I won’t be. I renounce that part of me. I refuse to be something so horrible.”

  As tears trickled down the girl’s cheeks, his mother hurried to her side, wrapping her arms around Leah.

  “There, there, lass,” she soothed. “Dinna you fash yerself over it. It matters no in the least. Yer home with us now. Yer a daughter of the House MacQuarrie and you’ve nothing to fear ever again.”

  Robert rose from his chair and headed toward the door, intending to leave the two women to bond in the way of women. His mother’s voice caught him just before he made his escape.

  “You’ll want to speak to yer father, Robbie. He’s much to tell you. You’ll want to know about Richard as well.”

  He looked back to see his mother leading Leah toward a chair by the fire, her low voice a reassuring murmur.

  Though he felt as if half the weight of the world had been slipped from his shoulders, unease still rode him as he made his way down to find his father.

  Now he faced the uncomfortable task of sharing with his parents that he was about to leave again on his quest to find his friend’s child. No, he caught himself in that thought. Isabella wouldn’t be a child any longer. He was twenty years too late to help the child Isabella. He could only pray he wasn’t too late to help the adult she’d become.

  From the conversation he’d just had with his mother, he sincerely doubted he’d be able to do that without telling them everything. Though everything would be a large bite for them to swallow.

  Still, he could hardly expect their assistance if he didn’t plan to offer them his honesty.

  At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Leah anymore. His mother, amazing woman that she is, would handle that from now on. The girl couldn’t ask for better from her own mother.

  One female settled in safely, one more to find. Only when he could assure himself of Isabella MacGahan’s well-being would he feel truly at peace.

  Chapter 5

  Blood and slime spattered her dress, her face, her hair. It covered her arms from elbow to fingertips.

  Isabella MacGahan couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy.

  When she’d first stumbled upon the young ewe trapped in the drop-off between the rocky outcroppings, she hadn’t known the animal was so near giving birth. That realization had come only after she’d freed the sheep and it had followed her home.

  Obviously her grandfather’s shepherds hadn’t cared enough for one missing ewe to bother after this poor creature. They’d abandoned her to make her own way, much as Isa’s grandfather had absolved himself of any responsibility for her.

  Their loss, her gain. Though whether her thought was to the sheep’s situation or her own, Isa refused to explore.

  “No matter. You’ve a home here now, dearling, and you’ll have a name, too, as soon as I think on it a bit. You and yer wee bairn both.” Isa smiled down at the tired ewe, busily cleaning her wobbly-legged babe.

  Come to think of it, she could do with some cleaning up herself.

  With a satisfied smile, she left the animal shed and headed around the building to her own tiny home. A good soak in a hot tub would be lovely for her tired muscles, too. She could feel the strain of the last few hours’ hard work in her shoulders even now.

  The ewe was lucky to be alive. She might be small but her babe certainly wasn’t. Everything about the birth had appeared normal at the start of her labor. The nose and two black hooves had emerged first, but then one leg had gone crooked and Isa had been forced to pull the lamb’s shoulders free. With what Isa had convinced herself was a grateful look from the exhausted ewe, the mother had managed the rest of the delivery on her own.

  Still, Isa felt a marvelous exultation at the role she’d played in the event. She’d helped bring a new life into the world this day.

  How could she not be happy? Spring was in the air with the sme
ll of warming earth rising around her. As she followed the muddy dirt path around to the entrance of her little cabin, the sun burst from behind the clouds that had blanketed the sky for the past several days.

  Isa turned her face up, halting her steps for a moment to bathe in the heated glow. A tiny shard of guilt flickered through her mind but she determinedly batted it away as she might a pesky midge.

  If it was supposed to rain, the clouds would return soon. Besides, it had already rained for days. Her

  barrels were full. There was no lack of water. Whatever the cause of the sun’s hasty appearance, she welcomed it.

  With a sigh, she made her way to her front door, stopping to scoop up the wooden bucket she’d need for carrying water in to heat for the bath she planned. She eyed the little bench in front of her home longingly, considering a small rest might be in order in spite of the dried mess on her body and clothing.

  Until she heard the slow, steady step of an approaching horse.

  “Bollocks,” she muttered under her breath as she dived through her front door, slamming it shut behind her.

  Quickly she searched her memory. Could she have lost track of the days this badly? No, she wasn’t wrong. It had barely been a fortnight since her grandfather’s lad had been here last, delivering such goods as her grandfather decided to send.

  She nudged a small wooden stool closer to the door and climbed up on it, lifting back the cloth that covered the tiny square hole cut high into her door. Through this opening she watched as the big horse carrying a small boy slowly made its way up her path.

  “Mistress Isa?” the child called out, clearly searching for her. “Are you about?”

  Isa leaned her forehead against the heavy door, an irritated sigh on her lips. Though she had no complaints about the lad himself, she thoroughly resented the interruption to her life he represented.