Page 17 of Highlander’s Ancient Vengeance

Malle watched him for a few minutes from behind the edge of the door. He was utterly relaxed, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He almost looked like a different person, staring into the fire without making a sound. Off guard, his face looked peaceful, even gentle.

Then suddenly he said, “You can come out now, Malle.” There was a laugh in his voice as he stood up.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked, as she went in and poured herself a glass of wine.

“I have eyes on my ears,” he replied, eyes twinkling

Malle laughed then spluttered as she choked on her wine. Her eyes were streaming tears, but for once they were not tears of anger, sadness, or pain—but laughter. He thumped her on her back, almost knocking her off her chair, and gradually her tears subsided; he wiped them away with a snow-white kerchief. Their faces were very close, but she did not pull back or push him away, and he held himself back from kissing her only with the utmost self-restraint. With any other woman he would have taken the chance, but not with Malle.

At last, he took a deep breath and said: “I wanted to sincerely apologize for kissing you that day, especially in that manner. It was wrong of me, Malle.”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned. It was the last thing she had expected him to say. “Why did you do it then?” she asked at last. “I was really afraid of you...you are so much bigger and stronger than I am, and I could have done nothing if you had forced yourself on me. I thought that you might, that you might kill me.”

He was shocked. He sat forward in his seat and grabbed her hands in his. They looked impossibly small. No, she could not have done him much damage with these. He was surprised that she did not even try to pull away.

“I am both sorry and ashamed.” His voice was gentle and he could not meet her eyes with his. “I did not think about what I was doing. I just wanted you to be quiet, and that was the quickest way I could think of to do it. But when you were in my arms, I did not want to let you go. It felt so...so right, and it had been a very long time since I kissed a woman, and I was just as shocked as you were, Malle. Now that I look back, I was so rough with you and I do not blame you for being displeased with me.”

“Look at me,” she said quietly. He raised his head and she studied him for a moment, her gaze roaming over his face as if she wanted to memorize it.

Malle saw a strong face, with a heavy brow over deep-set gray eyes. His nose was slightly Roman, and his mouth was beautifully sculpted, with a full and sensual lower lip. He had the kind of thick, springy hair that would never fall out, and his beard, though thick, was closely shaved to his face.

When he was viewed in silhouette his head looked as though it was edged in fire as the sunlight struck it. He was a beautiful, strong, healthy man, and now that he had apologized for his mistake she could see the good heart that beat behind the tough exterior.

Malle had a feeling that inside he was as soft as butter, but he could never express his tender feelings, since a man, especially a laird, was meant to show strength and not weakness.

“Thank you,” she said softly, with a little smile. “It takes a big man to admit he is wrong.”

He looked down at himself. “I cannot deny being a big man!” He laughed and she joined in, then slid her hands out from between his, and he suddenly felt bereft.

“And I will confess that I felt something too,” she said awkwardly. “I liked being in your arms; you made me feel safe and I do not know why. However, you are a Dunbar, and I am a MacEwan, so there can never be anything between us.”

He nodded resignedly and for some reason she was annoyed. Damn him! She wanted more of an argument, not immediate compliance!

Kiss me anyway, she thought, looking hungrily at his lips, which were so close to hers. But she was disappointed, since he made no effort to do so.

He sighed, nodding in agreement. “That is true,” he said sadly. “But I know that there will be a time when all this is over.” He looked out of the window, his eyes far away. “Maybe not soon, but you can never tell. Your father and mother are speaking to my father. Is that not a hopeful sign?”

“Indeed,” she replied. “I hope something will come of it. There is one thing I need to tell you, though, Craig. There was a man standing amongst your workers, and he made me shiver in fear. Maybe I am being fanciful, but I did not like the look of him, and he stared at me as if he would bore a hole through me. There was such hate in his eyes! He has a long black beard, very greasy looking and dirty, gray hair and dark eyes, and he looked very big, but not fat. He looked like a barrel, in fact.”

Craig laughed. “It sounds like Alan Bruce,” he replied. “I can understand why you would be scared, Malle; he is very fearsome-looking. Many folk do not like him because of that, but I assure you, he has been my father’s loyal worker for years and would not hurt a fly. I would trust him with my life.”

“Hmmm,” she said doubtfully. “I will take your word for it, but my instincts tell me that there is something amiss with him. However, I cannot have a man arrested because I do not like his appearance, or there would be many more men in jail around these parts.”

Craig laughed heartily at that. “You do us a great disservice, Malle,” he observed. “When God handed out gifts he gave nearly all of them to women. Look at you. You have beautiful soft skin, shining hair, gentle natures, alluring bodies, and you give the world the gift of children. What do we have? Hair everywhere, bones that jut out, big muscles, and ugly feet. Sometimes we even go bald. We are not pretty or delicate. Do not blame us, blame God!”

“I can blame God and still be a little frightened, can I not?” she asked, then she smiled. It was the first great open smile she had given him, and he felt wonderful, as if she was blessing him.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he whispered.

Her eyes opened wide in disbelief. “Th-thank you,” she stammered. “I doubt that, but thank you anyway.” She felt her face flushing and looked down at her hands, which she was twisting nervously on her lap. Kiss me, for the love of God! she thought desperately. Don’t make me have to do it!

He put his big calloused hand over hers, and she looked up. His eyes were gentle as he leaned forward.

Just when Malle thought she was going to get her wish, Laird Dunbar and the MacEwans came back into the room. They both looked grim, but no one looked angry.

“Craig,” Malcolm Dunbar said thoughtfully, “have you had any word from the tenants or crofters about the matter we discussed?”

Craig shook his head. “No, Father,” he replied. “But there has not been much time.”