Master of the Highlands

“Nonsense! A woman does need to protect herself, does she not, Lochiel? I am a good Highland lass, why should I not have a sgian dubh? Now, would you please be so kind as to assist…” She wagged her calf in his general direction.



“How dare you behave so at my table, Rowena, ” Ewen spat. “If you can carry the blade, you can unsheathe it yourself. Now somebody please call Lily back so we can have this over with. ”



As Ewen turned his back on Rowena, Robert was the only one to notice the spark of anger that flashed through a crack in her otherwise meticulously cultivated visage.



Rather than enjoying the moment’s rare solitude, Lily spent her time in the hallway fretting over what she ’d request as her part in the game. She had never been good at Truth or



Dare either. The other kids always came up with provocative questions to ask or clever pranks to dare, but she always found that she just ended up dreading her turn. When Donald called her back into the room, she resolved to pick the smallest thing off the table and request a simple song from the owner. That seemed easy enough.



The items in the pile presented a stunning array of what would have been priceless antiques in her time. Lily mused for a moment that if she could bring any one of those things back with her through the labyrinth and sell it, she wouldn’t have to work for a year. At this thought, a vague sense of anxiety washed over her.



Lily didn’t understand why the thought of leaving the Camerons would make her stomach clench so—she was desperate to get back to her own life, wasn’t she? Granted, she clearly felt a connection with the laird. How could any red-blooded woman not? With his gravelly voice and intense dark blue eyes, the man was sex personified. And then there was the loving appreciation that she ’d seen flicker in his eyes, at the sight of his son, or even of Kat, or that monstrous horse of his.



Lily smiled, and recalled the way he carried himself through the halls of Tor Castle, with a purposeful stride that implied the future welfare of the Highlands rested on his shoulders alone. An image of him flashed in her mind, Ewen walking toward her earlier, his formal white shirt setting off the utter blackness of his hair, and his handsome waistcoat as it strained over the muscles in his arms and back. His eyes and mouth had been set in a determined line, even as he reached tenderly out for her, tracing the line of her neck with hands that, though strong and scarred, were capable of such gentleness.



Just the memory of that touch sent a rush of warmth through her belly, contracting the muscles at her very core.



She dared not confuse desire with true intimacy. Just because her body responded to him, to his touch, his voice, did not mean that there was any real connection there. Didn ’t he pull away every time there was even a suggestion of emotional intimacy? She felt a rush of dread, and wondered that maybe he even considered her coy, or a flirt. Lily quickly replayed their exchanges in her mind. No, she had seen the sexy sparkle in his eyes during some of their more playful banter. Yet he always pulled back. Clearly he knew what he wanted, and it wasn ’t some twenty-first-century woman with improper notions of femininity and equality.



She could only attribute the confusin g sensation to too much wine and her nerves at having to participate in this preposterous game. Rolling her shoulders, Lily took a deep breath. She needed to get this evening on and over with. Mindful of her plan, she studied the table and was thankful that there was a small, seemingly worthless item for her to select.



“I choose this. ” She gingerly picked up the tiny brown tooth and studied it in her palm. A number of silent looks passed across the table, and Lily began to feel embarrassed, though she had no idea why.



“And I would like the owner to sing us a song. ”



There. She did it. Her turn was done, and if the owner didn ’t want to sing a song, then, all they would be out was a gross old tooth.



“Och, lad, did you really think to forfeit your badger tooth?”



“Uncle, I’ve not lost it yet. ”



Donald, looking positively grieved, was not satisfied with this answer so Ewen continued, “’Twas the simplest thing I could think of. ”



“I… I’m sorry, did I pick the wrong thing? I ’m happy to pick something else. Actually, please let me pick something else.” Lily was growing annoyed that her simple strategy was backfiring and the one thing without value on the table ended up being of some sort of priceless emotional value to the Cameron clan.



Lily was touched to glimpse a moment’s insecurity in Ewen and could suddenly and vividly imagine the boy he had been as he mumbled, “I thought nobody would want it, aye?”



“You see, Lily, ” Robert took it upon himself to let her in on the secret, “this item originally hails from a badger, and badgers are not without significance to the clan. Badgers are quick and clever fellows. ”



“Aye, and braw too. ”



“Thank you, Hamish, yes. And they are brave creatures too. They don ’t give up a fight easily, just like we Highlanders. Many men carry a badger tooth on their person to represent their own strength and endurance. ”



“My sporran has a badger’s head on it, see? ” One of Ewen ’s tenants thrust his soiled sporran toward Lily and flashed her an enthusiastic gap-toothed smile. “It’s most common. ” Ewen cut their exchange short. “It was a gift from my grandfather not so long before he died. He ’d killed a badger with his own hands when he was just a mite and kept this with him all his life. It was a sort of luck charm for him. I carry it now. ”



“And may you live as long as he, ” Archie announced, “and be as stout-hearted and fair a laird! ” This led to a number of toasts and slàinte after slàinte wishing both past and future Camerons well.



It was beginning to look like the increasingly drunken table had forgotten about the game until Rowena chided, “And the song, Lochiel?”



“Och, a song?” Ewen was not immune to the effects of the wine and he was as expansive as she had ever seen him.



“Lil’, can you not have something simpler?”



“Would you have the lass ask for a swordfight?” Donald seemed to be enjoying his nephew’s discomfort. “Now Ewen, let us hear your honeyed voice. ”



Ewen rose, scowling. “I’ve not sung in years …I ’ll…” He downed the contents of his glass in one gulp and grumbl ed, “I’ll sing ‘The Dowie Dens of Yarrow. ’”



Lily expected some sort of rousing battle chant from the laird and was surprised when he began to sing a ballad. She had difficulty making out some of the language at first, but her ear became accustomed to the slow cadence. Like all good ballads it was a mournful tune of love and loss, but Ewen’s rich, smoky voice invested it with a significance not imparted by the words alone. She was astonished at the quality of his voice. His deep vibrato echoed with a sorrow that Ewen himself seemed to feel as he sang of a woman who loved and lost a man, simple and good, who died defending their love.



Ewen shut his eyes, emotion threatening to overwhelm his voice, and sang in a near whisper, “As she walked up yon high, high hill, And down the glen so narrow,’Twas there she found her true love John, Lying cold and dead on Yarrow. ”



Ewen opened his eyes and looked at Lily with a directness and intensity that overpowered her. She had been transported by his husky voice and the way a sad song can be particularly disarming when sung by an otherwise unyielding man. It was the laird ’s rapt gaze, though, that made her feel as though she were frozen in her seat. She wanted desperately to look away, but couldn ’t take her eyes off him.



Lily became acutely aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the slight tilt of his chin as he sang, the single strand of hair that had unloosed from his queue. She began to tremble slightly as he sang the next verse.



“She washed his face, she combed his hair, As she had done before o, And she kissed the blood from off his wounds, On the dowie dens of Yarrow.



“O daughter dear, dry up your tears, And weep no more for sorrow.



I’ll wed you to a better man Than the ploughboy lad of Yarro w. ”



Ewen seemed to come back to himself and his voice returned to its normal pitch for the final verse.



“O father dear, you ’ve seven sons, You may wed them all tomorrow, But the fairest flower among them all, Was the lad I wooed on Yarrow. ”



Lily had been so entranced by the song, she was startled by the abrupt burst of applause from the table. Taking a deep breath, she discreetly dabbed the corner of her eye, making as if she had an itch rather than a tear there. Robert flashed her a proud grin, and, flustered, she looked down and busied herself with a bit of lace at her sleeve.



“My dear brother! You have truly shown us, vinum et musica laetificant cor! ”



Lily had never seen the otherwise bookish Robert so effusive. She thought that, if wine and music did indeed gladden the heart, then any more of either and dear Robert would be under the table from his gladness.



“Might I have a turn to leave the room? ” Robert turned to Rowena for her nod of approval.



Everyone had placed their trinkets on the table, and Lily was still wondering what she could offer. Everything she wore belonged to Ewen. She couldn’t very well forfeit something that wasn’t hers, nor was she entirely sure that she would be up for doing whatever it took to keep from surrendering her chosen item. Rowena had been eyeing Lily all evening, surely trying to devise the cruelest way to make her supposed rival squirm with embarrassment.



“Oh, please do hurry, Lily, ” Rowena snapped. “If you can’t decide what to put on the table, why don’t you offer up that darling… thing …you’ve got round your neck?”



Lily fingered the emerald necklace that Ewen had loaned her.



“What is that supposed to be, thistle? What a charming little trifle. My young niece has something similar. It ’s favored by young girls, is it not, Tessie?”



“Oh, I could never…” Lily stammered. Rowena could think what she liked, but Lily treasured the piece already. It was clearly no ordinary bauble.