Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel by Violetta Rand Page A

Errol gazed down at his father. He covered him with the fur and rested the back of his hand on his forehead, checking for fever, knowing the lung disease brought hot sweats and cold chills with it. Then he leaned close to the laird’s nose, listening to his breathing. Steady but slight. What relief he could find in that, he took willingly. His sire would live another day. But could he rule? His captains would have something to say about it, especially with MacKenzies on the way.
    Although allies, any sign of weakness would force the MacKenzie laird to question MacRae defenses. And in Kintail, with the barbarous MacDonalds at hand, it was unacceptable. Lairds didn’t lead from their deathbeds. That’s what sons were for. And being his only child, Errol knew better than anyone what that meant. He might gain a clan and wife on the same day.
    A maid returned with a bucket and the linens he requested. “Set the pail on the floor, lass.”
    He dipped the cloth in the water, then sat on the edge of the mattress. With a cautious hand, he wiped his father’s face clean. He dropped the soiled linen on the floor and grabbed a fresh one. This time he folded it in half, then left the cool compress on his da’s forehead. At this point, all he could do was wait for the healer. She had black spleenwort and other herbs that could ease the laird’s discomfort and help him breathe better. Then it hit Errol. Maybe he should summon the priest. Perhaps prayers were needed more than remedies. Not caring who watched, he covered his father’s left hand with his.
    “I don’t know if ye can hear me, Da, but I want you to stay. It’s too soon for ye to go.”
    Errol could hear women weeping in the corridor, and was that Cameron murmuring verses? Damn the world for condemning such a good man to a slow death. Errol deserved punishment, not his father. He squeezed his hand, regretting not having told his sire how much he admired and loved him.
    Sometimes words weren’t enough, but it would make all the difference to his da. “If you survive the night, I swear you’ll grow weary of how many times I say I love ye…”

Chapter 12
    “You can’t neglect your duties,” Margot said, standing near Aileana’s bed. “The laird and priest will consider it a great transgression. Dry your eyes, lass, come break bread, then we’ll find something to occupy those idle hands.”
    Aileana had sought sanctuary in her room after she finished speaking with Errol. Where else could she go? If she stayed in the great hall, people would only be reminded of what happened. If she went to the kitchens, where she was no longer permitted to work, Muriel and the rest of the maids would give her hateful looks and accuse her of wicked things. Rolling onto her side so she now faced her auntie, Aileana shook her head.
    “Even if I wished to go with you, I am forbidden to work.”
    “What?” Margot sat on the edge of her mattress.
    Aileana rubbed her eyes. “Forgive me, I should have spoken to you sooner. So much has happened over the last couple of days. Things I’d sooner forget than accept. I doona like strangers deciding my fate, Auntie. And no matter how long I lie here trying to understand the laird’s logic, I can’t.”
    “What are ye talking about, Aileana?” Margot cast a suspicious glance at her.
    Aileana sat up and tucked her knees under her chin. “Laird MacRae will announce my engagement to Errol tomorrow evening.” She shivered at the thought—of touching him with intimate familiarity in public. If she didn’t, as he warned her, people would surely doubt their sincerity. She must prepare herself to make a great show of it.
    Margot’s expression changed to one of shock. “Did I mishear you, child?”
    “Nay.” Aileana smiled sadly. “I am to marry the future laird.”
    Margot folded her hands on her lap, her gaze wandering over the sparse furnishings in the small room. “What really happened between you and Master Errol on the way home?