The Highlander's Redemption (Mills & Boon Historical) (Highland Brides - Book 1)

Guillaume sipped, and after a few moments, seemed to recover. He pulled himself upright, his pale blue eyes focusing on Madeleine, hovering anxiously at his side. ‘C’est toi, vraimant? I can’t believe it. How did you come to be here?’ He reached out a hand towards her.

She took it. It felt strange. His clasp was weak. His hand did not envelop hers the way that Calumn’s did. She sat down in a hard wooden chair beside him. ‘I came to Scotland to find you. I ran away.’ He was much thinner than she remembered, and older too. No longer a boy, the traumas of the last eighteen months were etched upon his face, giving him a gravitas he had not possessed before. Despite the horrible scar, he was an attractive man, she could see that. But she was not at all attracted.

‘Ran away? You mean you are here alone? Then who is this?’ he asked, looking at Calumn.

‘It is a long story. Are you sure you are well enough to hear it? You look very pale.’

‘My head, but I am used to that. Tell me, it will help me, I think.’ He took another sip of water. ‘It’s so strange. All these months, it’s been like a black curtain in my mind that I couldn’t see behind. Yet just the sound of your voice and it has lifted, as if it were never there.’ He tightened his grip on her. ‘I can’t believe you are here. It’s so good to see you, Maddie.’

His words stung her conscience, his unaffected pleasure in seeing her eating into her resolve. Her smile wobbled as she snatched a glance at Calumn, propped up against the door with his arms crossed across his chest, his expression unreadable, his mouth a thin, hard line. Once more the urge to run held her in its powerful grip, surging up inside her like a tidal wave. With an immense effort of will, she suppressed it. She would not let Calumn down. She would not.

She turned back to her betrothed. ‘And you, Guillaume. It is good to see you.’ The relief of realising that this was true gave her courage. She did not wish him dead. She had not stooped so low.

In a low voice, faltering but never halting, she told him the salient facts, from his cousin’s claim on La Roche, which had been the trigger to her journey, to the discovery of his whereabouts at breakfast on Heronsay this morning. Her eyes never left his face. In his eyes, she saw surprise, shock, disgust, when he heard of Droissard, who had taken his name. Admiration for her, too, and—there could be no denying it—love.

‘You never gave up hope,’ he said, when she had finished. ‘I can’t believe what you’ve put yourself through for me. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ve always taken you for granted. I won’t ever do so again. So brave. My own Maddie.’

Tears started in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. She breathed deep. Forced herself to take it out of the box to which she had confined it, her affection for him, and to take a long hard look at it. To take her time, because it was now or never. She had to be sure. Completely sure. No matter what.

And there it was. A real thing but paler, and quite a different shape from her love for Calumn. Not dead, but fixed in size. It would not grow, nor would it ever be transformed into something else. And in time, untended, it would fade. Beside it, her love for Calumn glowed, vibrant and potent. In the end, it was not a choice. There was no question.

If only the doing of it were not so very painful! Her heart was tolling like the harbinger of death again. The way Guillaume was looking at her, so tenderly—he had never looked at her like that before. Would never look at her like that again. For surely he would hate her after what she had to tell him next. ‘Guillaume, the thing is—’

‘It’s like a dream,’ Guillaume interrupted, smiling happily. ‘Or as if I’ve just woken up,’ he added with a chuckle, ‘I can’t decide which.’

‘Guillaume! Listen, there is something else I need to tell you.’

‘What is it?’

‘I can’t. I’m so sorry, but I can’t.’

‘Can’t what? Maddie, you’re scaring me—what’s wrong?’

She got to her feet, took an anxious turn around the room, sat back down, her fingers laced so tight together that her knuckles showed white. ‘I can’t marry you. I don’t love you, not in that way, and I know now I never will. I’m so sorry.’

‘But—I don’t understand, what has changed?’

‘I’ve changed.’ She took his hand again, her eyes pleading for understanding. ‘I’ve changed so much that there is no question of my ever going back.’

‘You’ve met someone else.’ He wrenched his hand out of her clasp.

She closed her eyes, unable to face the pain she saw in his face, but forced herself to open them again. ‘Yes, I have. But even if I had not—Guillaume, it is not just that I love someone else, it is that I—I’m sorry, but I’ve never loved you, not in that way. Not as you deserve to be loved. I still love you as a friend, but I know I will never, ever love you as a lover. I’m sorry.’

‘Why did you come here then, knowing this? Why didn’t you just stay in France, give me up for dead?’

‘She didn’t give you up for dead because she believed, despite what everyone else was telling her, that you were alive.’

Calumn could restrain himself no longer. Pushing himself away from the door he took two hasty strides to stand protectively over the woman he loved. His woman. For he had heard enough, more than enough, to know that Madeleine was his, irrevocably, wonderfully, certainly his.

Relief, joy, pride, and that thing he had begun to recognise as happiness swelled inside him so that he could hardly restrain himself form picking Madeleine up and making off with her there and then. ‘She came because your cousin was laying claim to your property,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Had she not come, there is every chance you would have lived out your life here with no name, no fortune and no past.’

Guillaume flinched in the face of the unexpected menace now lowering at him over Madeleine’s shoulder. ‘Who are you?’

‘Calumn Munro.’

‘Yes, I know your name, but who—oh! It is you.’ Guillaume turned to Madeleine in astonishment. ‘When you said you had met someone else, I thought you meant another Frenchman. Does this mean you came here—that when you arrived in Scotland there was still—that you still considered yourself my betrothed?’

‘Well, yes, but that does not mean—’

‘But if your acquaintance with this man is of such short duration, then surely—Maddie, you can’t possibly know enough about him to make any sort of commitment.’

‘She already has,’ Calumn said threateningly. ‘Were you not listening?’

‘I know everything there is to know about him, Guillaume,’ Madeleine hastened to intervene. ‘All the important things. I just know. I love him.’ She dashed a tear away from her eye, and looked up fleetingly Calumn, still lowering with his fists clenched. ‘The only thing that time has to do with it is to make me love him more. I’m sorry. I am truly sorry, Guillaume, but you have to accept that. I can’t go back. I’m not the Maddie you knew before. I’m sorry it has to be like this, I’m sorry to have to hurt you, but the one thing I can’t ever be sorry about is finding Calumn.’

Guillaume was silent for a long moment, then he got to his feet, rather shakily. ‘It is my own fault. I didn’t know what I had until I left you. I missed you, you know. More than I thought possible. I should have told you in my letters.’ He kissed Madeleine’s cheek. Then he held his hand out to Calumn. ‘You had better deserve her. You will have me to answer for, if you do not.’

Calumn shook his hand. He even managed to smile, though its effect was to make Guillaume flinch. ‘It shall be my life’s mission, you can have no worries on that score.’

Guillaume slumped back down in his seat. He was still very pale. Madeleine suspected that he had not yet felt the full impact of the series of shocks he had been dealt. ‘What will you do now?’ she asked him tentatively.

‘I have absolutely no idea.’

‘Give the man time to gather his thoughts, for heaven’s sake, Madeleine,’ Calumn said, ‘he’s only just getting his memory back. What he needs is rest. Time to think. Take stock.’

‘Yes,’ Guillaume agreed gratefully, looking paler than ever. ‘Time to think. To grow—accustomed—to what you have told me.’

‘But we can’t just leave you here,’ Madeleine protested. ‘You don’t look at all well.’

‘She’s quite right. I’ll tell you what, my brother Rory is Laird of Heronsay. We are staying with him, and shall take you back with us for the time being. Then we can decide what’s best to do next.’

‘You’re very kind, but I can’t impose,’ Guillaume replied, finding the prospect of another such as Calumn to contend with rather terrifying.

‘You won’t be imposing,’ Calumn said, his tone softening slightly.

Madeleine beamed her support. ‘Say yes, Guillaume. Please. You can’t stay here.’

He looked bemused. ‘Well …’

‘Excellent. We’ll be back for you in—say, a couple of hours,’ Calumn said, shaking Guillaume’s hand, magnanimous now that he had achieved his purpose.

‘Where are we going?’ Madeleine asked.

Calumn did not reply. He nodded at Guillaume, took her arm and led her firmly out of the croft.

‘But I have not …’ Guillaume called, but he was addressing thin air. Looking out through the window, he saw the intimidating Highlander throw Madeleine into the saddle. She did not protest. In fact, she looked as if she were accustomed to it. He remembered it was one of the things she always prided herself on, the ability to mount Perdita without help. Come to think about it, had he tried to manhandle her out of the room the way Calumn Munro had done, he would have been rewarded with one of her set downs. Yet off she went with Calumn Munro, quiet as a little lamb.

Guillaume turned away from the window and reached into the cupboard for the decanter of whisky he kept for the occasions when the pain from his wound became too much to bear. His wound was not bothering him. But still, the pain felt almost as if it was too much to bear.

Calumn led the way out of Inverlochan, taking a path which headed directly west towards the sea. Realising he had no intentions of explaining himself, Madeleine had ceased to question him. Though the encounter with Guillaume had been painful beyond words, it had also been an incredible relief. She had not let Calumn down. And she knew, without any room for doubt, that she had made the right choice.

They reached a shallow border of pine trees, where the narrow path led down to a sheltered cove. Calumn tethered the horses, then sat down in the white sand, pulling Madeleine with him. ‘Look over there.’ He pointed directly ahead, where a spit of land in the distance reached far out into the turquoise sea. ‘That’s the Heads of Errin. At high tide it’s cut off completely, but at low tide it’s the perfect place for gathering mussels and clams. All the land you can see to the north from there is Munro land.’

‘Munro land. You mean I’m looking at Errin Mhor?’

‘It is your home, where your heart is,’ Calumn quoted. ‘That’s what you wrote in your letter to me. Your words, they were a turning point, but they weren’t the whole truth. My heart is with you. Home is wherever you are.’

‘Oh, Calumn, I love you so much.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But it’s no more than I love you.’ His kiss was long and languorous. The kiss of a man who had been drowning, but was saved. The kiss of a lover. The kiss of a man in love.

Madeleine’s heart strained at its tethers, slipped anchor and sailed free. She kissed him back without restraint. Love bubbled in her blood, filling her with light and a happiness so pure she thought she would expire from it. They kissed as if they would never stop. As if there could be no end. And indeed there was not, for it was the beginning of a lifetime of love. A love which they sealed making long, slow magic together, pledging their hearts by uniting their bodies.

Later, they lay entwined in one another’s arms. ‘I feel as if I’m floating,’ Madeleine whispered, her fingers idly tracing the shape of the scar on Calumn’s abdomen. It seemed fainter now. The angry redness had faded.

‘Well, I hate to bring you back down to earth, but there’s something I want to ask you.’

She knew by the tone of his voice that he was smiling his curling smile, but she pushed herself up just to check. Sure enough, there it was, and sure enough, it worked its magic on her. ‘What is it?’

‘I want you to marry me, of course.’

She had not thought any question in the world could be more delightful. Though it required the simplest of answers, it rendered her speechless. Even as she tried to form the word which would make her happiness overflow, Calumn set her gently from him and knelt before her in the sand. ‘I’m only ever going to do this once in my life, so I’m going to do it properly.’

Deeply serious now, he took her hand. ‘My darling, loveliest Madeleine, marry me. Be my wife. Be my first and my last lover. Be my heart and my conscience. For I love you, and I can think of no greater honour, nor no greater happiness, than to be able to call you mine. For always.’

Madeleine’s eyes filled with tears, which seemed to come direct from her heart. ‘Oh, Calumn,’ she managed, and flung herself into his arms, sending the two of them back down into the sand.

‘Is that a yes, then?’ he asked her, his own voice hovering between tears and laughter.

‘Darling, lovely, Calumn, that is the biggest, most perfectly wonderful, completely irrevocable “yes” that it is possible to give.’

Epilogue

One week later

Madeleine and Guillaume sat together on the edge of the jetty at Heronsay, looking out towards the mainland. The fishing boat which would take Guillaume to Oban, from where he would board a larger vessel heading south, was making its way towards them across the sound. It was a dull day, the sun hidden behind a thin layer of sullen grey cloud, the type which Madeleine had learned portended that mizzling rain so typical of a Highland summer.

‘You have Calumn’s letter,’ Madeleine asked anxiously.

Guillaume grinned. ‘For the tenth time, yes. And yours.’

‘He will be so angry with me. I still think perhaps I should come with you.’

‘We’ve been over all this, Maddie. Remember, your papa is to be so pleased to see me that he will forgive you.’

‘That is what you say, but.’

‘Trust me. Just this once, trust that I know best.’

She chuckled at that. ‘Papa will be astonished at how much you have changed. I can’t believe it myself.’

Guillaume looked grim. ‘Battle tends to do that to a man.’

She laid a gentle hand upon his arm, her expression tender. ‘I know. Do you regret it?’

He looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t know. When I signed up to the Stuart cause, to be honest it was more because I was looking for—well, a bit of excitement, a challenge. I suppose what I was really doing was proving something to myself. I didn’t think about what I was leaving behind. I didn’t think what it might cost me. And it did cost me. Not just you, but maybe my health. Definitely my stupid pride. But I don’t regret it. If nothing else, it’s taught me to appreciate what I have. I’ve grown up.’

Madeleine blinked back a tear. ‘Are you looking forward to seeing La Roche?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Guillaume replied. ‘It’s lovely here, but it’s not home. What about you, won’t you miss Brittany?’

She shook her head decisively. ‘No. Never. Isn’t it funny, I haven’t even been to Errin Mhor yet, but already I’m thinking of it as home.’

‘Provided your Calumn can sort out his differences with his father.’

‘Oh, I don’t doubt that,’ Madeleine said sunnily, ‘Calumn can do anything.’

Guillaume laughed heartily. ‘You really have changed.’

‘Yes. For the better, I hope,’ she said anxiously.

‘Definitely. So much for the better, that I fear you are right. We would not suit.’

‘Guillaume, do you mean that? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?’

‘Only a little,’ he said with an awkward shrug. ‘You will be happy, won’t you, Maddie? You are sure of that? I couldn’t bear the thought of you being otherwise.’

‘I am sure, I promise.’

‘Good, because although I did tell that hulking Highlander of yours that he would have me to answer to if you were not, I have to say it’s not a prospect I’d face with anything other than terror.’

Madeleine chuckled again. ‘You won’t have to. Here he comes now, with the rest of them, to say goodbye.’

They got to their feet. Calumn was ahead of the rest, his usual loping stride making his hair fly out behind him, the pleats of his plaid swinging with the motion, showing her a tantalising glimpse of finely muscled leg. Madeleine’s heart did its special little Calumn flip, and she ran to greet him, throwing herself into his arms, finding herself whirled off her feet, and her mouth firmly kissed. ‘I missed you,’ she said.

‘God, you’re insatiable, lass,’ he murmured wickedly into her ear, ‘it’s only been a couple of hours.’

She giggled. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

He let her slip back down to the ground, sliding his hands up her body, and pressing her close against him as he did so, leaving her in no doubt about the effect she was having on him. Again. A delightful shiver of anticipation set her own pulses racing. ‘You’re not the only one who’s insatiable,’ he whispered wickedly. Then, putting his arm around her shoulder, he turned her back towards Guillaume. At the jetty, the fishing boat was being tied up. ‘Did you say your goodbyes?’

‘Yes. It’s fine, don’t worry.’

Calumn nodded, then released her, holding out his hand to Guillaume. ‘Safe journey to you. You know you are always welcome here.’

‘Thank you. I have your letter safe. I’ll do everything I can to persuade Monsieur Lafayette to do as you suggest. I know how much her father being at her wedding means to Maddie.’

‘Aye. But she does not need his permission. She will be my wife, whether her father comes or not.’

Guillaume laughed. ‘I am aware. I shall tell him that, too.’

Rory, Jessica and Ailsa arrived on the jetty now. Jessica handed Guillaume a large wicker basket. ‘For the journey,’ she said.

‘She thinks she’s feeding the five thousand,’ Rory said. ‘There’s some of my best malt in there, too.’

‘More than you think,’ Calumn said, pulling two more bottles of his brother’s precious supply from his jacket pocket and handing them to Guillaume. ‘These are for Madeleine’s father.’

‘You must go, or you will miss the tide,’ Ailsa said to Guillaume. ‘Bonne chance.’ She kissed him on the cheek, as did Jessica. Then Rory and Calumn slapped his back and shook his hand.

Finally Madeleine hugged him tight. ‘Take care of yourself.’

‘And you, Maddie. Be happy.’

Madeleine gave him a watery smile. Guillaume jumped into the boat. Ailsa handed him the loaded basket. Rory unlooped the rope from the jetty. Calumn pushed the boat off, and the fisherman unfurled the sail. Guillaume waved once, then turned away from Heronsay to look forwards, out to the open sea.

Madeleine wiped her eyes, and snuggled gratefully into the shelter of Calumn’s body.

‘You’ll owe me for that whisky,’ Rory said to his brother as they all began to make their way back towards the house.

‘Oh, I’ll pay you back, don’t worry, and from my own cellar. Everyone knows that Errin Mhor malt is the best,’ Calumn told him.

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Rory said.

‘Calumn, are you sure about us coming to the wedding?’ Jessica asked anxiously. ‘Lord Munro has made his feelings about Rory very clear and Lady Munro has never shown any signs of wishing to meet me or Kirsty. We will not be welcome.’

‘You are coming to Errin Mhor for my wedding and that’s an end to it. I can assure you that you will be extended the warmest welcome it is possible to give. You, and Rory, and Kirsty, all. Whether my father wants to accept it or not, you are my family. Our family,’ he said, his hold on Madeleine tightening. ‘Is that not right, Ailsa?’

Ailsa beamed. ‘Completely. Don’t worry about my mother, Jessica, she’s a tartar, but she’ll dote on wee Kirsty when she sees her, I just know she will. And she’ll be that glad to have Calumn home, he’ll be able to wrap her round his wee finger.’

Calumn and Rory exchanged a look. The idea of their austere parent either doting on a bairn or allowing herself to be wrapped around anyone’s finger was not an image either could conjure. They burst out laughing. Ailsa could not help joining in. ‘Well, in time, maybe,’ she conceded.

They had reached the front steps of the castle now. Looking at the two brothers and their striking sister, Madeleine could not imagine a more attractive set of siblings. Surely even Lady Munro, the dragon lady as she had secretly named her, would be won round by such a combination?

‘I must go and see to my packing now,’ Ailsa said, looking up at the sky, where the sun was making a valiant attempt to appear. ‘When do we leave,’ she asked Calumn.

‘A couple of hours.’

‘Then I’ll go and see about getting you something to eat before you go,’ Jessica said. ‘What about you, Madeleine, do you need help with anything?’

‘Madeleine and I are going for a walk,’ Calumn announced. ‘She wants to see the beach again before we go.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes,’ Calumn said with a look which sent her pulses quivering.

The walked along the path hand in hand, down to the little crescent of sand where they had first made love. Kneeling down opposite each other, they began the pleasurable ritual of taking off their clothes.

‘Madeleine,’ Calumn said huskily, as he unlaced her sark, his fingers trailing heat over her skin, ‘you’d agree, wouldn’t you, that there should be no secrets between a husband and wife?’

‘Yes.’

‘Only, I have a confession to make.’

She stilled, her hands on the buckle of his belt. ‘What is it?’

‘I can’t swim,’ Calumn said ruefully.

Madeleine tried to suppress her smile, but her dimples peeped. ‘I’ve got a confession to make too,’ she said, her eyes brimming with laughter and love. ‘I guessed.’

Then she kissed him, and he kissed her back. Slowly. For there was no rush. They had the rest of their lives together.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

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First published in Great Britain 2011

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,

Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Marguerite Kaye 2011

ISBN: 978-1-408-92362-7

Table of Contents

Excerpt

Author Note

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Copyright