Page 26 of The Highlander Who Loved Me

’Twas hardly the homecoming that James had anticipated. If the past few minutes were any indication of what was to come, he needed to turn around, get on his horse, and ride for the hills.

“Lord, what a commotion! Be quiet, Lileas!” His mother held tightly to his arm, steering him away from the drama and bringing him forward until he was standing in front of his father.

It took a moment before he realized he no longer had to lift his neck to meet his father’s eye—they were the same height. With interest, James took note of the streaks of gray at the McKenna’s temples, and the lines that had deepened on his face. His father had aged, yet he still carried himself with the proud strength of a noble warrior.

“Christ’s bones, son, away five years with barely a word and when ye entered the hall, all hell breaks loose.”

“Aye,’tis good to see that nothing has changed while I’ve been away, Father.”

The McKenna’s eyes narrowed. Then he slapped James on the shoulder and pulled him into a bear hug. James was momentarily speechless. Growing up he had never doubted his father’s love—but open signs of affection had ended when the McKenna sons had reached manhood.

James quickly recovered his wits, then found himself returning the embrace. He felt his body seize with emotion as he held his father close. When times were darkest and dangerous battles raged he had often wondered if he would ever see Scotland—and his family—again. And now, through God’s mercy, he was here. ’Twas a victory to savor.

Before he pulled away, his father whispered in James’s ear. “I’m very happy ye’ve finally come home, son, make no mistake. But ye’ve caused yer mother endless nights of worry and grief, and fer that ye’ll answer to me.”

Ah, now that was more like what he had expected. James stiffened, but nodded in agreement. He had been inconsiderate of his family, especially his mother. Of course he needed to be held accountable.

“Little brother! At last ye’ve returned.”

James turned away from his father to face his brother. Malcolm had put Davina back on her feet. She stood behind him, clutching the table with one hand, her arm around the lass, who thankfully was finally quiet.

“Malcolm.” James nodded.

Something flickered in Malcolm’s eyes before a welcoming smile dropped into place. James immediately went on guard, wondering what his brother was trying to conceal.

Gilroy, the captain of the McKenna guard, appeared, a large grin on his face. His shout of welcome home was followed by a loud cheer from the guard. His mother’s maid came forward next, followed by his former nursemaid. With tears in their eyes, each hugged him.

All seemed genuinely happy to see him, though his nursemaid took the opportunity to scold him for being away for so long. He suffered through it all good-naturedly, but then, heaving out a breath of annoyance, James turned to face the greeting he had been avoiding.

He could not erase from his mind the sight of Davina’s pale face when she recognized him, her startled look of pure torture. It cut him sharper than a blade. Despite all his efforts to control it, his heart lurched when he looked over Malcolm’s shoulder and for a second time met Davina’s stunned gaze.

He narrowed his eyes sharply, then briefly wondered if she’d faint again.

“Davina Armstrong. ’Tis a most unusual surprise to find ye here.”

“Not an unpleasant one, I hope,” she replied softly, staring at him with luminous brown eyes.

He shrugged, though secretly he felt annoyed by her remark. This washishome,hisfamily. He had traveled a world away to forget this woman, yet here she stood.

How was that possible?

“Yer mother invited me for the holiday,” Davina continued, as though she could read the question uppermost in his mind.

Her perception startled him with the memory of how close they had once been. Close enough to at times even know what the other was thinking. But that was a very long time ago.

Damnation, I need a drink!

She had taught him well that love led to pure misery. Not always, a voice in his head nagged. It had been glorious in the beginning.

Tearing himself away from her hypnotic eyes, he looked down at her long, elegant fingers clutching her wine goblet. He remembered with agonizing clarity the feel of those fingers in his hair, caressing his cheek, entwined in his hand.

He failed to contain the sigh of appreciation that escaped his lips. The urge to claim her still ran strong. Almost as strong as the wild desire he felt to caress her until her brown eyes filled with pleasure and need.

He felt himself moving forward, reaching for her hand, and snapped back. A warning to resist any sentimental weakness stirred within him. She had rejected him utterly, completely, and finally. He was not about to give her the chance to do it again.

A heartless lass is easy to resist.Yet even as he thought the words, James knew he was being unfair. Davina had not always been heartless. She had been pure and open and loving. ’Twas his fault she had turned cold, for he failed to protect her.

“I’m Lileas McKenna,” the child at her side said. “Who are ye?”

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