Page 27 of Married to the Scarred Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #4)

27

T he morning brought an unfamiliar stillness that he and his stallion tore through with wild purpose. A black streak of terror cleaved the calm morning fog. It billowed and spiraled in their wake, Dùbhshìth’s mane flying with the speed of the wind coursing through it. Ciaran’s hair was a tangled mess, flying behind him.

He knew he was close, and the thought of spending another day without Laura drove him mad. Sure of himself, he released the reins, and Dùbhshìth shot through the glen, somehow widening his gait, eating up the soggy ground with furious determination.

I’m comin’ for ye, lass. Soon.

Ciaran found Adam in the training grounds, just beyond the courtyard as he dismounted his stallion. Adam’s arms were crossed as he watched the new guards train. Without a word, Ciaran walked up and stood beside him, mirroring his stance.

Adam smirked. “Ye dinnae like small talk, do ye?”

Ciaran huffed a short laugh. “Nae particularly.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Adam finally spoke, his voice low and firm. “Laura told ye what happened to her?”

Ciaran let out a sigh, his breath mixing with the cool air. “Aye.”

Adam nodded. “I cut him down like the filth he was. He didnae even fight well.” His jaw clenched. “Coward, even to the end.”

All Ciaran felt was rage. The fact that James had died so easily only angered him more. “He deserved much worse.”

“Aye,” Adam agreed. “But either way, he breathes nay more, and Laura is free of him.”

Free.

“Freya said she still has nightmares,” he added, sadness in his eyes.

Ciaran nodded in agreement. “We all have demons.”

It was Adam’s turn to nod in agreement.

“Does yer wife ken anything?”

“Some things, but nae what happened at that ceilidh. Laura asked me nae to tell her.”

Ciaran’s lips thinned. “And ye agreed?”

Adam sighed. “I’ll tell her when Laura is ready, but for now she needs some things to stay buried. Do ye resent her for it?”

Ciaran was silent for a long moment before he answered, “Never. I resent that she had to carry it alone. What does Emily ken?”

“She kens about Fraser. But she thinks the scar happened when Laura was healing a warrior that was in too much pain. I’m sure she suspects it is a lie. But Laura didnae want to hurt her or blame herself.”

“I understand. I willnae say anythin’ if that’s what ye’re worried about. We are family now,” Ciaran reminded him.

Adam nodded slowly, and both men remained silent as they leaned with the movements of the warriors in front of them, parrying and blocking and then going on the attack again.

Adam looked at him then. “I ken ye miss her.”

Ciaran nodded. “The next time I’ll see her I’ll be worthy of her.”

Adam smirked. “That’s the best thin’ a brother can hear his sister’s husband say.”

Ciaran met his brother-in-law’s gaze without hesitation. “And that time will be now.”

Adam grabbed his shoulder. “I wish ye luck. Ye’ve chosen a hellion to spend yer life with.”

It was Ciaran’s turn to smirk. “I wouldnae have it any other way.”

The horses were saddled within the hour, the last few orders were given to his men, and he stood at the gates to the keep, Adam at his side and Ersie in the doorway.

She called out to him, “See ye when ye return, Braither.”

He looked back at her, a question on his brow, but she had disappeared.

That was it, then. Ciaran was going to claim his family back.

He rode hard, Adam at his side, the wind biting at their skin.

Laura had imagined this moment at least a thousand times—her homecoming, standing once again within the towering stone walls of MacNiall Castle. But now, with her mother’s horrified eyes locked onto her face, she wished she had prepared for it more.

“Laura?” Moira Kane’s voice came out strangled, as if she swallowed glass.

Freya, Emily, and Laura arrived at the MacNiall Castle almost at dinner time. Laura was looking around the castle, seeking comfort in the familiar hall. At last, she was back. But it didn’t feel much like home anymore. Not the way Ciaran’s castle had felt for a time.

“Laura?” her mother called again.

Laura’s eyes landed on her, and she stiffened, resisting the urge to recoil back into the carriage, to hide the scar that had stolen her mother’s breath. But there was no hiding from this moment.

Moira leaned closer, her hands trembling as she reached toward her daughter, but she stopped short, her fingers hovering near Laura’s cheek.

“Who—Who did this to ye?” she whispered, tears welling up in her blue eyes—the same blue eyes as her daughters’.

Laura swallowed against the tightness in her throat, her fingers curling into her skirts. “It doesnae matter. It’s done.”

Her mother’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her usual strength crumbling in front of her. “It matters, Laura! It matters that me daughter hid away from her family in shame for over a year!”

“Ye dinnae understand,” Laura started, but her mother’s expression shattered her resolve.

“Aye, I do. More than ye ken.” Moira’s voice was thick with emotion. “Ye were afraid to come home because ye thought we’d turn ye away. That I would turn ye away.”

Laura twisted away because her mother was right, but she didn’t want to let that fact be known. It was a shame in and of itself to think that her family would do that to her.

A soft cry drew their attention towards Freya, who was just coming out of the carriage with a bundle in her arms. Fraser stirred as he woke up. Laura’s mother gave a sharp gasp.

The toddler settled as soon as he saw his mother. Oblivious to the tension in the air, he looked around taking in his surroundings, and Freya grinned.

Moira’s lips parted, her gaze softening yet breaking all at once.

“Is that…?” Her eyes landed on Laura. . “This is yer son?”

Laura barely had time to nod before her mother’s expression crumpled.

“Ye had a bairn, and ye’ve kept him from us?”

Tears streamed down Moira’s face as she fell to her knees and held out her arms. Freya set the boy down, and Fraser, ever curious, hesitated only for a moment before taking a tentative step toward his grandmother.

“His name is Fraser,” Laura murmured as her son reached Moira, sensing her grief and longing.

Moira scooped him up, burying her face in his red curls. “Oh, me wee lad,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Ye’re a MacNiall through and through.”

Tears came before Laura could stop them, and she cried for the lost time, for the fear that had kept her away, for the ache of missing Ciaran so fiercely.

Moira set the boy on the ground, and Fraser crawled toward Laura, murmuring incoherent words that still comforted her.

“Ma sad?”

“Nay, love. Just lost,” Laura said softly through her tears.

She couldn’t decipher if the tears were for the family she had abandoned for too long or the man she had abandoned far too soon.

Freya came to sit on the sofa, followed by their mother. Their tears ceased, and their breathing returned to normal before anyone spoke again.

“I cannae believe ye stayed away for so long.”

Laura winced. “Ma…”

Moira raised an eyebrow. “I should tan yer hide for it.”

Laura smirked, and they shared a rare smile. “Ye could try.”

“Why, Laura? Why did ye stay away from us?”

Laura bit her lip to keep it from trembling again. “Because I thought ye’d be ashamed of me.”

“The only shame would be if I turned me own daughter away.”

“There’s more, Maither,” Freya chimed in.

Laura’s eyes flashed to her twin in confusion.

What else could there be? What is she gettin’ at?

“Well, as ye ken, Laird MacAitken is Laura’s husband now, and she’s run away from him.”

“Is that monster to blame for this?” Moira’s intense gaze darted between them impatiently.

“Nay, Adam wouldnae have let him keep his head.”

“Ach! So, ye havenae returned to us. Ye’ve run away from yer husband.”

Laura sighed, hiding behind Fraser, but her mother scooped the boy in her own arms, exposing her.

“Tell me why ye ran.”

Freya giggled manically. “Oh, aye, this is good. Tell her.”

Laura rolled her eyes and started to explain, “I didnae ran. I just…I wanted more, Maither.”

Moira nodded in understanding, “Ah, I see. Ye’re a damn fool, that’s why ye ran. But we’re all fools in love, lass.”

“Love?” Freya and Moira both looked at her pointedly. Even Fraser giggled at her expression.

“Fine. Let’s say it is that. What am I to do now?” Laura asked, truly at a loss for what she should do.

“Ye are always welcome here, but ye cannae stay here forever. Ye have a duty to yer husband, especially since, from what I gather, has been kind to ye. So, speak with him. Ye owe him open and honest communication. Same as ye expect for yerself.”

“So, I have to leave? I’ve only just arrived.”

“Surely, I didnae say that. Did I, Freya?” Moira’s head snapped to the grinning twin.

Laura picked up a pillow, throwing it at her sister as a warning.

“Gracious!” Moira said as another pillow flew directly at Laura’s head. “Just one moment—a moment!” she yelled.

Laura and Freya stilled.

“Tell me,” Moira said, her voice sharp. “What tale did ye spin for that poor daughter-in-law who’s waitin’ for us down in the dining hall?”

Freya sighed, rubbing her temples. “She kens most of it,” she muttered.

Laura nodded. “I just didnae tell her who did this mark. I didnae want her to blame herself. Adam told her it happened by accident while I was healing someone.”

“ Are ye a healer, though?”

Laura sat up taller and smiled proudly. “I am . I truly am.”

Moira nodded and then looked at her intensely. “And what did truly happen then?”

Laura and Freya’s eyes met for a second before sliding back to Moira.

“The truth is”—Laura pointed to her face—“James Stewart”—she then pointed to Fraser—“James Stewart.”

Her mother’s hand flew up to her throat as if to catch a scream. Tears flooded her ice-blue eyes, and she sobbed silently into her fist.

Laura patted her mother’s other hand, but as Fraser curled up into Laura’s lap, sensing her distress, she found that she had no tears left to cry. Not for the past, not anymore. What James did to her was horrible, but it was over. Now she had a son whom she adored, and a husband who--

Moira’s arms flew around Laura and Fraser, pulling them both close to her. “I’m so sorry, my child. My sweet, mischievous lass,” Moira cried.

“I’m all right, Maither,” Laura said calmly, leaning into her embrace. Freya somehow managed to hug them all. “I’m more than all right.”

Tear-stained cheeks and red, swollen eyes found Laura’s. “Nay one alive deserves such treatment, child.”

“I ken that well enough now.”

“Emily should ken the truth…” Moira said, pursing her lips, clearly battling her instincts.

Freya leaned forward, her cheek resting on her mother’s shoulder. “Let it be, Ma. If Emily kens now, it changes nothin’ but how she looks at Laura for the rest of their lives. She has a big heart—ye dinnae think she willnae blame herself for the scar on Laura’s face?”

Moira exhaled sharply. “And ye both believe this is for the best?”

The twins nodded.

Their mother looked between them, then finally sighed, relenting. “I’ll keep yer secret, as it’s nae mine to tell. But promise me,” she said, pointing a firm finger at Laura. “Ye’ll ne’er keep a thing from me again.”

Laura swallowed hard, nodding. “I’ll never, Ma.”

Silence settled over the room, thick with unsaid words and longing for things lost.

And then, like a storm breaking, a commotion sounded from the entrance to the keep.

“Lady MacNiall!” a maid screeched with terror.

Moira sprang to her feet, her dress floating behind her as she tore through the keep, her daughters hot on her heels, Fraser balanced on Laura’s hip.

“There will be blood, dammit!” a voice cut through the silence, echoing off the stone walls, and Laura’s breath caught.

Freya started giggling.

“Why in the bleedin’ hell are ye laughin’, Freya?” Moira asked exasperatedly as they all turned toward the door.

“That would be Laura’s husband, Ma.”

Laura’s heart pounded violently as her mother came to such a sudden halt that she and Freya flew past her.

“What?” Moira asked again.

“That’s Laird MacAitken, Maither. Laura’s husband,” Freya said through heaving breaths.

Laura felt a blush creep into her cheeks as her mother’s piercing gaze bored into her.

The commotion grew louder, the maid yelling once more for their mother, but Moira stayed still.

“Go on, then, child,” she said with raised eyebrows.

“Let me see her, man.” Laura heard Ciaran’s voice as she stepped closer.

“Sister?” she heard Adam call out from the entrance, and her eyes met his.

“Adam…” she said slowly, her eyes flickering between her brother and the empty shadows surrounding him.

“He’s outside,” Adam said, smirking. “What are ye still doin’ here, lass?”

“I just arrived.”

“MacNiall, I’ve waited long enough!” she heard Ciaran call.

The nearness of his voice was enough for her to come to her senses. She handed Fraser to her sister and hurried down the stairs.

His shoulders shone in the moonlight, rigid and wide, his wild eyes locked onto hers with raw desperation that stole the air from her lungs.

Laura didn’t even hesitate. She ran to him, stopping just short, her pulse wild. Fraser, balanced on Freya’s hip, was clapping and calling out to him affectionately, “Like Ma.”

Laura’s insides almost melted at the warm smile Ciaran gave Fraser.

“I’ll be there in a minute, laddie,” he said, and everyone went back inside, giving them some privacy.

“Threatenin’ me braither isnae a good idea, Ciaran.”

“It was only for show, lass,” Ciaran said, cracking a lopsided smile.

Her chest tightened at the sight of it.

“Some show, then. Couldnae wait even three days?”

“I missed ye, Laura,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I cannae do this without ye, lass.”

Her eyes stung painfully, her entire body igniting. “I missed ye, too. But what does that mean? Does it matter, if we cannae--”

He pulled her towards him and came down into a kiss, and the moment their lips met, the world around them faded.

“We can. I will give ye everything ye want, lass. I’ll do better for ye, be better for ye. If only ye can let me be there for ye and our son, I will…”

This time, it was Laura who yanked his shirt and pulled him down for another kiss.

“Come,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into the keep.