HEART OF ICE

A REBELLIOUS HIGHLAND HEARTS

SHORT STORY

Dun Ugadale,

Kintyre Peninsula, Scotland

Yuletide, 1454

SHEENA STOOD AT the window, watching the snowflakes flutter down.

She wasn’t fond of winter, especially now that she was older, yet she had always been entranced by the beauty of falling snow. The flakes were delicate, gentle, and silent as they drifted through the gelid air and kissed the ground.

Watching the wintry scene soothed her and eased the nagging sense of passing time.

Another Yuletide had arrived.

Another year had passed.

She was getting older; they all were.

Alone in the ladies’ solar, Sheena pulled the fur stole she wore tighter around her shoulders. A fire blazed in the hearth just a few yards away, yet she’d rolled up the sacking at the window so she could watch the snow. The damp cold drilled into her bones, but she remained where she was.

It was mid-afternoon, and usually the other women would join her at this hour. However, with Yule approaching, Rose and Davina were helping Cory and his assistants bake honey cakes, studded with dried plums. Meanwhile, Bonnie, who was heavy with bairn these days, was taking an afternoon nap.

Sheena didn’t mind her own company; actually, there were times when she preferred it.

The happy chatter of her daughters-by-marriage sometimes grew wearying. She was sure they thought her a bitter old shrew, yet none of them had lived in her shoes.

They hadn’t suffered her disappointments.

As Sheena continued to gaze out the window, a figure emerged from the smith’s forge into the snow-covered barmkin below.

Despite that it was cold enough to freeze the breath, her stepson wore nothing but soot-covered braies and a sleeveless leather vest. Brodie’s brawny arms gleamed with sweat as he trudged through the snow, bucket in one hand and hammer in the other. Reaching the water trough near the well, he broke the ice with a couple of smacks of his hammer before plunging the wooden pail into the water.

Sheena’s mouth pursed as she watched him.

She hadn’t caught more than a few glimpses of Brodie since his return from the north around four months earlier—since his disgrace. After running off to pursue a woman far above his rank and then abducting her, he’d nearly caused a feud to erupt between the Mackays and the Forbeses. Fortunately, Iver had prevented him, yet the incident had driven a wedge between the brothers, and Brodie kept to his forge these days. He hadn’t ventured inside the broch once since his return.

His absence didn’t bother Sheena. She and Brodie had been enemies for years, yet at the same time, catching the odd glimpse of him, as she did now, gave her a strange pang. Her chest constricted, and her belly clenched.

What was it? Guilt … regret? She wasn’t sure.

Ye are growing daft in yer old age , she murmured to herself. Aye, that must be it, for there had been a time when merely the sight of Brodie—constant proof of her husband’s indiscretions—made her blood boil.

These past few months though, her feelings toward her stepson were more … complicated. He’d suffered a tragedy, and she couldn’t find it in her heart to rejoice over it.

Pushing aside the uncomfortable sensations, Sheena watched Brodie disappear inside the maw of the forge once more. Moments later, the rhythmic clang of a hammer on metal echoed out into the barmkin.

She shivered then, as the cold finally became too much, and was about to step back from the window and pull down the sacking, when a horn blew.

Sheena stilled, her gaze shifting to where two of Kerr’s men, huddled under heavy woolen cloaks, hurried from the gatehouse and started winching up the portcullis. Kerr himself walked out into the snow, sinking up to his ankles with each stride.

With his hood pushed back, his shoulder-length ice-blond hair bright despite the snowy day, the sight of her youngest son made Sheena’s mouth soften into a half-smile. Although she rarely showed Iver, Lennox, and Kerr affection—for it wasn’t her way—Sheena’s three sons were her world. Aye, they’d frustrated her at times over the years. However, what mother didn’t gnash her teeth at the foolhardy decisions of her sons?

The portcullis rumbled up, and then a few moments later, men on horseback rode into the barmkin.

The man leading them wore a sash of muted green and blue. Big, bearded, and broad-shouldered, with a wild mane of black hair threaded with silver, she recognized him instantly.

Despite herself, Sheena’s mouth kicked up at the corners, warmth flickering to life deep in her chest.

She couldn’t believe it. Was she actually pleased to see this man?

She truly was going soft in the head, if she was. Colin Campbell aggravated her immensely at times, and he made a beeline for her whenever he visited.

As if feeling someone’s gaze upon him, the Lord of Glenorchy glanced up, his attention fixing upon the window where she stood.

A heartbeat later, a roguish grin split Colin’s face.

Swallowing her smile, Sheena raised a hand in acknowledgment.

Colin was loud, brash, and talked too much. His daughter was wed to her son Lennox, and he was a regular visitor to Dun Ugadale. Sheena had known he was coming yet was surprised—and more than a little discomforted—by her reaction to Colin’s arrival.

Ye have gone and done it now , she chastised herself as she stepped back from the window and yanked the sacking down. Now the man will stick to ye like a bur for the rest of the festive season .

“Ye are looking well, Sheena.”

With a sigh, Sheena glanced up from where she’d been cutting into a piece of venison on her trencher.

Colin Campbell met her eye, bold as ever. His mouth had curved into an appreciative smile.

“Am I?” she replied lightly. When Campbell had started complimenting her on his first visits to Dun Ugadale, she’d cut him off at the knees. However, these days, she let him flatter her—just as long as he didn’t push it too far.

“Aye.” His smile widened. “The firelight gilds yer hair and skin … and darkens yer eyes.”

Sheena huffed a laugh. She then glanced down at the goblet of wine at his elbow. “How many of them have ye downed, Colin?”

“This is my first.”

She cocked an eyebrow, making it clear she didn’t believe him. Observing Colin then, she noted that he too was looking well. He’d been taking care of himself better of late. His cheeks had lost their high color, as if he was drinking more moderately, and he’d lost weight off his belly. He’d also trimmed his beard. When she’d first met him, it had been as wild as his hair, yet it was neat now, emphasizing the chiseled strength of his jaw.

He was around ten years her junior and still an attractive man.

“I’m sure ye have had plenty of men tell ye of yer loveliness over the years,” he continued, ignoring her incredulous look. “Ye must surely tire of it?”

“I might have received a few compliments in my youth,” she replied archly. “But those days have long gone.”

Her supper companion snorted, dismissing her comment with a wave of his large hand.

The pair of them sat at one end of the chieftain’s table in Dun Ugadale’s hall.

A heavy pall of peat smoke hung under the rafters. The acrid smell caught in the back of Sheena’s throat, as did the odor of wet wool, leather, and stale sweat. Fortunately, other more pleasant smells did their best to counteract the disagreeable ones. The aroma of roast venison, fresh bread, and pine.

Yule was just a night away, and Rose and Davina—under Bonnie’s guidance—had decorated the hall beautifully. Ivy festooned the smoke-blackened rafters, as did wreaths of holly. Banks of candles lined the tables, nestled amongst sprigs of fragrant-scented pine.

Colin picked up a ewer of bramble wine then and topped up both their goblets. “What a fine feast yer cooks put on … I always eat and drink well here.”

Sheena cut him an arch look. “So, that’s why ye visit Dun Ugadale so often, is it?”

Colin’s expression sobered then. “I enjoy seeing my daughter, of course.” Both their gazes shifted across the table, to where Davina was laughing at something Lennox had just said. “It gladdens my heart to see her so happy.”

Indeed, Davina glowed these days, her earlier fragility a thing of the past. There was a bloom to her cheeks, a gleam to her eye, that had been missing when she’d first arrived at Dun Ugdale. And despite that she was four months with bairn now, she hadn’t suffered from any sickness as yet.

Colin glanced back at Sheena, his mouth quirking. “Davina isn’t the only person I look forward to seeing though.” His grey-blue eyes darkened then. “Ye are worthy of traveling days for too.”

Despite herself, Sheena found her lips curving. “Ye are a silver-tongued rogue,” she replied. Picking up the goblet, she took a sip of bramble wine. It was rich and spicy, a Yuletide treat. “I wouldn’t be surprised if ye’ve slayed more than a few women with that charm ye wield.”

Colin gave a low, rumbling laugh.

Warmth filtered over Sheena. She liked his laugh. It was earthy and a little rough, much like the man himself.

“Aye, I liked the lasses in my day,” he admitted with a wink. “My wife said I could have charmed the devil himself.” His expression softened then, with a hint of wistfulness as memories caught him up. “Aileen always appreciated a compliment.”

Sheena pulled a face. “Men,” she muttered. “Ye always think flattery will win a woman over.” She paused then before adding. “My husband was charming enough in his day as well.”

Colin met her eye then, his head inclining. “That’s the first time ye have ever mentioned Reid Mackay to me.”

Sheena grimaced and took another sip of wine. “Aye, well, there are plenty of good reasons for that … as ye well know.”

“Many years have passed since he left this world,” Colin pointed out gently. “Do ye still bear him ill will?”

In the past, Sheena would have turned on anyone who asked such a bold question, yet she didn’t now. Colin was right. Time had moved on. Reid had been dead a long while, yet even the steady march of the years couldn’t heal some wounds.

She didn’t bear Brodie the same ill will these days, as she had when he was a bairn, but she couldn’t think about her dead husband without her mouth souring.

“I do,” she admitted, her voice roughening just a little. She glanced away then so he wouldn’t see the sudden vulnerability in her eyes.

“Why?”

Sheena’s mouth pursed. Lord, the bramble wine must be strong if she was being so frank with Colin. Usually, she let him do all the talking when they sat in the hall together. Yet, this eve, the man was full of questions.

“Ye know what he did to me,” she replied, her tone sharpening. “Do ye think I could ever forgive and forget?”

“Ye might.”

Sheena cut Colin an irritated look, to find him watching her steadily. “Bitterness is a poison, Sheena,” he said softly. “I too have sucked from its teat … resentment left to fester robs ye of joy.”

“Maybe,” she replied, her tone chilling now. She’d had enough of Colin Campbell’s probing. It was time to end this exchange. “But the choice is mine, is it not?”

His gaze never left hers as he slowly nodded. “It is.”

A cry echoed down the table then, intruding upon their conversation.

Sheena’s attention flew to where Bonnie sat next to Iver. Heavy with bairn, her belly so huge that she had to sit a foot back from the table, the laird’s wife had doubled over. Bonnie’s lovely face was strained, her bright blue eyes wide.

“Mo chridhe.” Iver had turned to her, brow furrowing, his gaze alarmed. “Is it time?”

Bonnie nodded. “I’ve no idea what to expect,” she gasped. “But … I think so.”

Iver shoved back his carven wooden chair and scooped his wife carefully up in his arms. He then glanced over at where Kerr had already gotten to his feet. “Fetch the midwife!”

The midwife arrived and took up her place at Bonnie’s side in the bedchamber. Sheena, Rose, and Davina assisted where they could, bringing in basins of hot water and clean cloths, ready for the birth—but they were wary of getting underfoot.

Unfortunately, right from the beginning, Bonnie struggled.

Sheena had brought three babes out successfully into the world and knew how painful it was. Iver had been the hardest to birth, and since he’d been her first, she’d also been frightened. She saw the same fear in Bonnie’s eyes now as she bore down with each birthing pain.

Beathas, the midwife, was an experienced and no-nonsense woman, yet Sheena watched her closely.

And as the hours slowly inched by, and evening became night, Beathas’s long face grew tense, her brown eyes worried.

“Something is amiss, isn’t it?” Sheena finally asked.

They’d reached the early hours of the morning now. Davina was dozing in a chair in the corner of the chamber while Rose and Sheena sat on stools next to the bed.

Beathas nodded, a muscle in her jaw feathering. “The birth isn’t progressing,” she murmured. “I will need assistance, I fear.”

“Why isn’t the bairn coming?” Bonnie panted. Sweat slicked her face, and her red hair was now plastered to her scalp. She was breathing hard, eyes glassy.

“I believe the babe is positioned wrongly,” Beathas replied gently. “I shall need help to birth it.”

Sheena rose to her feet. “I will send a rider out to Ceann Locha … to fetch the healer,” she announced, even as a sickening sensation clutched at her belly.

Childbirth was such a dangerous time for women. Death always waited close by, like a carrion crow waiting to swoop.

Emerging from the chamber, Sheena found Iver pacing the hallway outside. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot with tiredness and worry.

“The birth is taking longer than it should,” she informed him, deciding it was best to be direct about these things. “Beathas wishes for the healer from Ceann Locha to attend.” She paused then, watching his dark-blue eyes gutter. “Malcolm is skilled indeed … he will be able to help. I will organize for a rider to go now.”

They stared at each other a moment, and then Sheena stepped forward, placing a hand on her son’s arm. “She’s fighting, Iver … and we shall do all we can to help her.” Her voice was low yet fierce. Her son needed her strength right now.

Iver nodded, reaching up and placing a hand over hers. “Thank ye, Ma.” His voice was rough, strained, yet he was keeping himself together.

Sheena left him then, picking up her skirts and making her way off the landing and down the spiral stone stairwell.

She’d just reached the ground floor, and was crossing to the door that would lead her out of the broch, when a tall, broad-shouldered figure approached.

The rest of the broch was slumbering, yet Colin Campbell had been sitting on a stool by the hearth. “What news?” he greeted her, his brow furrowed with concern.

“The birth isn’t going well,” she told him, her throat constricting.

Lord, she’d held on earlier, yet there was something about Campbell’s solid presence that made her want to crumble against him.

Inwardly berating herself, she gulped down a lungful of air. “I’m going to find a rider to fetch the healer from Ceann Locha.”

“No need,” Colin replied with a shake of his head. “I shall go.”

Sheena frowned. “Are ye sure? It’s a freezing night … I don’t want to—”

The Lord of Glenorchy flashed her a careless smile as he made for the door. He then grabbed his heavy fur mantle that hung on a peg next to it. “Don’t worry about me … I’ve ridden in worse weather than this.”

Sheena’s lips parted as she readied herself to argue with him, to point out that he was pigheaded and too old to go off on such a ride. However, it was too late.

Colin Campbell had already departed.

Colin returned with Malcolm the healer, just as the first glow of dawn lightened the eastern sky.

Bonnie still hadn’t given birth, and Iver was growing frantic.

Even Sheena’s increasingly faltering words of reassurance couldn’t ease the panic that rippled across his face with every raw cry that echoed from the chamber.

Both Colin and Malcolm were sweat-soaked and dusted in snow. Neither man said a word as the healer let himself into the birthing chamber, while Colin remained out on the landing with Iver and Sheena. However, when Colin’s blue-grey gaze met hers, it was full of questions.

He wanted to know how things were progressing.

Swallowing hard, Sheena gave a shake of her head.

Beyond the door, Bonnie’s cries were gradually getting weaker. She’d been toiling all night now—and wouldn’t be able to go on much longer.

Malcolm had to be able to help her.

Outside on the landing, the three of them remained silent.

A moment later, an anguished cry filtered through the door.

Iver murmured an oath and stepped forward, placing his hands on the thick oak that provided a barrier between him and his wife. Eyes fluttering shut, he then leaned forward, resting his forehead on the door. It was cruel indeed that men were not allowed inside a birthing chamber. Midwives complained that they got in the way during the birth, and some husbands couldn’t withstand the stress and fainted.

“I can’t stand it,” he whispered hoarsely. “I want to help her … but I can’t.” His shoulders heaved as another cry of agony followed. “Christ’s bones, I’ve never felt so useless in my life.”

Colin stepped up and placed a steadying hand on Iver’s shoulder. Usually, the Lord of Glenorchy had something to say, yet not this morning. Instead, he just offered Iver silent support.

Likewise, Sheena held her tongue. What could she say to make things better? Bonnie had been struggling for a long while now—too long.

Footfalls approached then from below. Lennox and Kerr appeared on the stairs, their faces solemn. Sheena cut them both a warning look as they ascended the steps. They all needed to remain calm and quiet at present; Iver needed their strength.

It was hushed for a short while on the other side of the door. After a spell, Sheena caught the low, reassuring rumble of Malcolm’s voice. And then the cries began once more.

Sheena clenched her hands by her sides, so hard that her fingernails dug into her skin.

Please Lord, she silently prayed. Spare Bonnie and her bairn. Her heart started to gallop then as she recalled how harsh she’d been with her daughter-by-marriage when she’d first arrived at Dun Ugadale. She’d flayed Bonnie with her tongue and taken pleasure in telling the lass who her father was, in shaming her.

Shame prickled over Sheena as the memories assaulted her.

Aye, Iver had forced her to apologize to Bonnie afterward, yet she hadn’t truly been sorry. She’d just swallowed her resentment and tried to move on. But with the passing of the months, she’d grown fond of her daughter-by-marriage.

How could anyone fail to love someone like Bonnie? She was gentle-natured, a kind soul who cared deeply for others.

Her decency made Sheena feel like a miserable wretch.

Campbell was right. Resentment was a venom—and it did sap all the joy from life.

Tears filled her eyes then, her vision blurring.

Let her live, she silently begged. Dear Lord, I swear I shall give Bonnie a proper apology this time, a heartfelt one … I will be a nicer person from this day forth .

But the cries went on and on, and with each one, Sheena felt as if someone were ripping out her innards.

Iver still braced himself against the door, eyes squeezed shut. His strong body trembled as he held in his fear, his anguish.

Stepping forward, Sheena took hold of his arm, gripping it firmly.

Iver opened his eyes, his tortured gaze shifting to her. Sheena stared back, all the love she felt in her heart pouring out of her. She wouldn’t tell him everything would be all right, for she had no way of knowing. All the same, he would know that she cared deeply about what happened to Bonnie and her bairn.

Her heart wasn’t made of ice, after all.

The cries inside the birthing chamber grew louder then, rising to a sharp scream.

And then, the noise cut off.

Iver breathed a curse and grabbed the door handle. He’d reached his limit and wouldn’t be parted from his beloved Bonnie any longer.

However, before he could open the door, another wail filtered through.

This one wasn’t the cry of an exhausted woman in pain, but the lusty cry of a newborn.

Iver heaved a sob, while Sheena’s legs went weak with relief.

She staggered, and suddenly a strong arm was there, supporting her. She looked up into Colin Campbell’s blue-grey eyes, to find him grinning down at her. “Well, that’s a bonnie sound if ever I heard one.”

It was crowded in the birthing chamber, yet no one seemed to notice or care. Iver, Colin, Sheena, Lennox, and Kerr all pushed inside to find Bonnie propped up on a nest of pillows. The midwife held a small squalling infant in her arms, while the healer cut the umbilical cord with a sharp knife. Rose and Davina, their faces slack with exhaustion, sat at the head of the bed, flanking Bonnie.

“Ye have a son, Mackay,” Malcolm greeted Iver, flashing him a relieved smile.

Tears trickled down Iver’s face as he approached the bed. His gaze alighted on the tiny new life that Beathas now wrapped in a linen shawl, his lips parting with wonder. Yet an instant later, his attention shifted to his wife. “Ye did well, mo chridhe,” he said huskily. “Ye have been so brave.”

Bonnie gave a sob. “It was so hard … I didn’t think I’d manage.”

“The bairn came out feet first,” the midwife informed them. “I couldn’t have birthed him without Malcolm’s help.”

Iver met the healer’s gaze then, a long look passing between them.

The laird would never forget what Malcolm had done here.

Rose moved aside so Iver could sink onto the stool next to Bonnie. Tenderly taking his wife’s hand, Iver leaned in and kissed her. He then shot another look at the healer, this one concerned. “Is she harmed?”

“The birth was a hard one,” Malcolm replied, his expression sobering. “I must keep an eye on her … for the bleeding hasn’t yet stopped.”

Standing at the foot of the bed, Sheena’s gaze fell to the blood-stained sheets. Her belly dropped then. There was a lot of blood.

“Bonnie must also pass the afterbirth,” Beathas added. Her face was now grave.

It seemed that Bonnie wasn’t out of the woods yet, and the joy inside the chamber dimmed just a little.

“Don’t fash yerself, Iver,” Bonnie said, breaking the awkward silence. Her voice was weak, her face as pale as milk, yet her eyes shone. “All will be well.”

Sheena’s chest constricted, even as her attention returned to the crimson stain upon the bed. It wasn’t just the birthing of a bairn that put a woman at risk, but the time swiftly following. Sheena’s younger sister had died after having her third bairn; she’d bled out afterward.

They would have to watch Bonnie carefully in the coming hours.

This Yuletide was much quieter than most. A great oaken log burned in the hearth in the hall, and the aroma of roasting meats, pastry, and cakes drifted through the broch and out into the barmkin beyond.

Yet there wouldn’t be a Yuletide feast at noon as planned. Most of their family members retired to their chambers, to rest, but Iver remained with Bonnie, as did Sheena. Together, they nervously waited to see her rally.

As noon approached, Sheena went down to the kitchen and retrieved three cups of hot caudle and a platter of honey cakes studded with dried plums. She then carried them upstairs.

The midwife had long departed, but Malcolm remained. The healer’s face was drawn with fatigue, although relief flickered across his face when Sheena passed him a cup of caudle and a cake.

“Caudle will be just the thing for Bonnie,” he said approvingly.

Sheena nodded. The rich mix of cream, egg yolks, honey, and oats was a fortifying drink indeed. Ideal for a woman who’d recently given birth.

Iver flashed his mother a grateful smile as he took the two other cups and handed one to Bonnie.

“Thank ye, Sheena,” Bonnie said softly. “That’s very kind.”

“How are ye feeling?” Sheena asked, pulling up a stool on the opposite side to Iver.

“Well enough.” Bonnie managed a wan smile. “Just exhausted.”

The bairn slept against her breast, and something tugged deep in Sheena’s chest as she viewed his crumpled wee face. He was so small, so vulnerable. “Has he a name yet?”

“Aye … Reid,” Bonnie replied, her gaze meeting Sheena’s. “Are ye happy with that?”

Sheena’s breathing hitched. Of course, it made sense that Iver would wish his firstborn to be named after his father. Despite the fact he’d strayed from the marital bed, Reid Mackay had been a good man. Even so, Bonnie understood why Sheena might be upset.

Her gentle concern for others—even when her own situation was of more importance—made Sheena’s throat thicken. Reaching out, she placed a hand on Bonnie’s arm. “Aye, lass,” she murmured. “It’s an excellent name.”

Next to Bonnie, Iver’s eyes widened. No doubt, he’d been ready for a fight.

However, he wasn’t going to get one.

Silence fell then, while Sheena focused her attention on Bonnie once more. She’d wanted to apologize to her daughter-by-marriage when they were alone, yet that wouldn’t be possible.

And she wouldn’t wait. Bonnie needed to hear these words now.

“I am truly sorry, lass,” she murmured. “For the way I treated ye when ye first came here.” Pausing, Sheena sucked in a fortifying breath before plowing on. “Ye are the best thing that ever happened to Iver. Ye have made him so happy … and ye have brought such joy to this broch. I should have told ye earlier how much ye mean to me” —Sheena’s voice wobbled as emotion threatened to overtake her— “And ye do … ye are the sweet-natured daughter I always wanted, yet never deserved.”

Bonnie stared back at Sheena, her lips parting in surprise.

Indeed, both Iver and Malcolm were watching her as if she’d just sprouted whiskers.

Sheena didn’t blame them. Her behavior was altogether out of character. Nonetheless, something had changed in her of late.

Ironically, Brodie was the cause. Catching glimpses of his unhappy face in the barmkin over the past months, she’d found herself reflecting on the past, and questioning her own choices. He didn’t deserve the scorn she’d heaped on him. No one did.

The hard shell Sheena presented to the world had started to crack, and then Bonnie’s difficult birth had caused it to shatter.

She didn’t want to be that woman any longer.

Bonnie was still weak and vulnerable; she was still at risk after giving birth. Sheena couldn’t bear the thought of letting another moment pass without speaking plainly.

“I know I appear pitiless at times,” Sheena admitted after a lengthy pause. “Yet I’m not without a heart.”

Bonnie’s bright blue eyes glittered with tears as she stared back. And then, she handed Iver her cup of caudle and reached out, catching Sheena’s hand in hers. “I know,” she whispered.

“Here’s to Reid Mackay!” Lennox held his goblet of wine aloft, a wide smile upon his face. “And to his courageous mother. Good health to them both!”

“Aye!” The answering chorus rose high into the rafters of the hall.

Sheena too lifted her goblet in a toast to the newborn bairn and Bonnie. She felt almost giddy with relief this evening.

Many hours had passed since the birth, and the healer was now satisfied that Bonnie was no longer in immediate danger. She was weak and sore and would need a few days to recover—but the worst was over.

As Bonnie couldn’t join them for the Yule celebrations, Iver had remained with his wife upstairs while one of Cory’s lads brought up food for them. However, the rest of the family, and the Mackay retainers, gathered in the hall for a magnificent belated Yuletide feast.

Taking a sip of bramble wine, Sheena let her gaze travel over the long table that groaned under the weight of the dishes placed there. The centerpiece was a spit-roasted suckling pig that had been stuffed with chestnut and apple. There were many other special dishes too: grouse pies with rich suet pastry, venison stew, roasted fowl, fragrant honey cakes, and custards sweetened with honey.

“Cory has outdone himself,” Kerr announced from farther down the table. “I swear this is his best spread yet.”

Beside Sheena, Colin Campbell snorted. “I really should steal yer cook for a few months … and get him to teach mine a few tricks.”

Sheena eyed him. “I don’t think we could ever spare Cory,” she pointed out.

“Too right,” Kerr agreed as he helped himself to a large wedge of pie. “Ye’d have to send yer cook here.”

“I just might,” Colin replied.

The feasting began, and for a while, conversation settled. Sheena, too, ate with relish. Earlier in the day, she’d felt sick to her stomach with worry over Bonnie, yet now she could relax a little.

“Ye are a grandmother now, Sheena,” Colin said then as he refilled her wine. “What do ye think about that?”

She favored him with an arch look. “It makes me feel old.”

He winked before indicating to Davina. “Aye, well … I’ll soon be a grand Da.” Colin’s eyes twinkled as he exchanged a smile with his daughter.

Warmth bloomed under Sheena’s ribcage as she viewed the affection between them. “And ye will make a fine one, I’m sure,” she murmured.

Sheena didn’t think she’d ever be the sort of grandmother who fussed over bairns—most likely her grandbairns would be scared of her—yet she could see that Colin would be different. He’d likely bounce the children on his knee and tickle them until they squealed. There was a warmth to him, one that she’d grown to appreciate.

The truth was that there were many things about the Lord of Glenorchy that she’d grown to like. His strength. His directness. And his big heart.

Colin’s gaze shifted to her then, and his smile changed.

It became more intimate, as if he’d read her thoughts and wished her to know so.

Heat flushed over Sheena. She wasn’t her usual prickly self this evening; her defenses were down.

What was she doing entertaining such thoughts?

She was a grandmother now—an old woman.

Flustered, she tore her gaze from Colin’s and tried to focus on her meal. Yet, for the remainder of it, she was acutely aware of his presence at her side.

Drawing her cloak close, Sheena walked across the barmkin toward the gate. Her boots crunched over fresh snow, and the gelid air bit at her skin, yet today, she welcomed the cold.

After days cooped up inside the broch, she longed to get out for a walk.

It was a quiet, still morning, save for the rhythmic clang of metal drifting out from the forge. Sheena’s gaze narrowed as she peered at the open doorway. She could just make out her stepson’s heavily muscled form as he hammered.

Brodie hadn’t seen her, and she wouldn’t interrupt him.

What would she say anyway? Apologize for everything? She’d be there all day.

Even so, her step slowed.

She’d resented Brodie since his birth, as she had his mother—the cook who’d stolen her husband’s affections—but there was no denying she’d been unfair to him all these years. They weren’t related by blood, and yet Brodie carried a similar affliction to her. He held onto things for far too long and let the past embitter him.

Nonetheless, the pair of them would never be friends, and she knew her stepson resented her deeply. He wouldn’t welcome a visit from her.

And so, Sheena kept walking, out of the broch and down the causeway that led into the village below.

Bairns played in the snow. They lobbed snowballs at each other, their shrieks carrying high into the pale sky.

Sheena’s mouth lifted at the corners. To be so young and full of life. Those days were far behind her now.

This morning, she felt as if her youth was nothing but a distant memory. How she wished she’d cherished it more. How she wished she hadn’t held onto things. Bonnie wasn’t like her. Nor was Davina or Rose. All three of her daughters-by-marriage rode with life rather than fighting it.

Deep in thought, Sheena continued walking through the village and up onto the hill beyond. This was where they had the Beltaine and Samhuinn bonfires. It was a lovely spot, one that afforded her a view of the broch, rising up from its rocky pinnacle, and the rolling snow-clad hills beyond.

Sheena reached the top, yet instead of lingering to admire the view, she decided to walk a little farther. Full of restless energy this morning, she felt disquieted and needed to burn off the unsettling sensation.

She was moving on when a male voice hailed her.

“Sheena!”

Halting, she glanced over her shoulder to see a burly figure with wild dark hair, trudging up the slope after her.

Colin Campbell approached.

“God’s troth, woman … ye march like a warrior on parade,” he huffed, reaching her side at the top of the hill.

“Aye, well … I don’t like to waste time,” Sheena replied, flashing him a rueful smile. “Were ye trying to catch me up?”

He nodded. Colin’s gaze roamed over her face then, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. “Are ye not wanting company?”

Sheena sighed. There would have been a time when she’d have snarled at anyone who intruded upon her solitude—especially Colin Campbell. On his first visits to Dun Ugadale, the man had irritated her no end. But he’d grown on her of late, and when she’d seen him approach, the same warmth that both pleased and discomforted her had blossomed under her breastbone.

“I find that yer company isn’t too odious,” she admitted, her mouth curving. “Indeed, I must admit that ye are actually growing on me.”

Colin flashed her a grin at this. In the pale winter light, she could see the signs of age upon him, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and the silver lacing his dark hair and beard. But she was sure every line on her own face would be highlighted similarly.

Sheena’s breathing grew shallow. Colin had a smile that lit up his face, and now that he’d trimmed his beard so that it framed his strong jawline, she noted his cheek dimpled when he grinned or laughed. His grey-blue eyes were bright, sharp, and filled with good humor. They also saw her as no one else did.

Her belly fluttered.

Mother Mary, there was no denying it. She was attracted to him. She had been for a while now—that was why she hadn’t clawed him to shreds when he continued to seek out her company.

Stepping close, Colin raised a hand, pushing a lock of hair off her face. “Ye are wearing yer hair unbound,” he murmured. “I like it.”

The excitement in her stomach twisted harder, and suddenly her chest rose and fell sharply. Sheena usually wore her hair knotted into a severe bun at the base of her neck or braided tightly around the crown of her head. The fact she’d wandered outdoors with her silver mane in disarray showed that she wasn’t herself this morning.

Her gaze traveled over his face then, focusing on his mouth. Colin had beautifully-molded, sensual lips. Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before?

Marking the direction of her gaze, that mouth tilted into an arrogant, purely-male smile, and then he was leaning in, brushing his lips across hers.

Sheena froze.

It had been a long while since she’d been kissed—so long, in fact, that she couldn’t remember the last time. In truth, she’d never thought to be embraced ever again.

As such, the rush of heat that surged over her when his mouth brushed hers once more took Sheena by surprise. She gasped, her lips parting, and Colin deepened the kiss. Stepping close, he slid his hands through her hair, cradling the back of her head as his tongue explored her mouth with slow, deliberate sensuality.

Need started to pulse low in Sheena’s belly.

Lord, what was this?

It was as if he’d just woken her body from a long sleep. He tasted faintly of the watered-down ale he’d drunk to break his fast and smelled of smoke and leather.

Sheena’s pulse started to thud against her breastbone.

This was delicious. Perhaps Reid had once kissed her like this, years ago, before their love turned to ashes—but so many years had passed she couldn’t remember.

All she could focus on was the way Colin’s mouth mated with hers and the deep, sensual promise of it.

For a few moments, she forgot she was now a grandmother, a woman far past her prime in life. Suddenly, she was ageless.

Her hands lifted, sliding over the quilted gambeson he wore under his fur cloak. And as she slid her palms over the breadth of his chest, she felt the thunder of his heart.

A heady sense of power thrilled through her veins. Colin might be acting as if he kissed women like this regularly, yet this was affecting him as strongly as it was her.

Sheena stroked her tongue against his, excitement quickening further as he groaned. A moment later, she gently nipped his lower lip.

Breathing hard, Colin drew back. His eyes were hooded with lust, his expression hungry. He placed his hands on her shoulders then, staring down at her. “We’d better stop there,” he said, a rasp to his voice. “Or I might just throw ye down in the snow and take ye right here.”

Sheena’s breathing caught.

She might have forgotten what it was like to be kissed by her husband, but never in all their years of marriage had Reid ever said anything so lusty to her.

A restless ache started to pulse between her thighs. There was a part of her—a reckless side she’d never known she possessed—that wished to push him, to see if he’d make good on his threat.

Nonetheless, she reined the impulse in.

Moments passed, and then reality intruded upon the cocoon of lust the pair of them had woven.

Sheena murmured an oath. “I don’t know what’s come over me,” she muttered. “I must be sickening.”

Colin huffed a soft laugh. “Well, I know I am.” One of his hands lifted from her shoulder, and he traced his knuckles gently along her jawline. “I’m pining for ye , Sheena.”

Her heart kicked hard.

His mouth quirked. “Aye, ye heard me right. I’m like a lad who has lost his wits over a lass for the first time.” He paused then, his gaze fusing with hers. “Why do ye think I visit so often … or seek ye out every time I do?”

Sheena stared back at him, speechless. Of course, she’d realized Colin Campbell liked her. But it had never dawned on her that it might run deeper.

“I want to marry ye … to spend the rest of my days at yer side,” he declared then, his voice roughening. “Will ye do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Sheena’s breathing hitched, and when she finally answered, her voice came out strangled. “But why would ye shackle yerself to me? Ye could choose a young wife … ye could have more bairns … another family.”

“I don’t want any of that. I want ye.”

“But I’m old .” Panic started to beat in her chest like a caged bird. “I have eight and fifty winters … God’s teeth, I’m at least a decade yer senior.”

“Nine years actually,” he replied, his mouth curving. His other hand raised, and he gently cupped her face. “But it matters not. Ye wear yer years with dignity … ye are still the rarest beauty I have ever seen.” His gaze lowered to her lips. “And yer mouth is sweeter than anything I’ve tasted.”

Sheena sighed, her eyes fluttering shut as longing rose like a tide within her. “Lord help me, how am I supposed to resist when ye say things like that?”

Colin gave a low, rumbling laugh. “Don’t then. Say ‘aye’ to my offer of marriage, and make me the happiest man in Scotland.”

Warmth suffused Sheena then as if she’d just lowered herself into a delicious steaming bath. Suddenly, she couldn’t think of any good reason why she should deny him, or her. Opening her eyes, she met his gaze. Colin stared down at her, his expression hopeful, vulnerable.

It would be so easy to crush him right now, yet she never would. This man had just handed her his heart, and she would protect it, cherish it.

Offering him a slow smile, even as his pulse went wild underneath her palm, Sheena whispered her answer. “Aye.”

The End