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HEART OF A HIGHLANDER

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Heart of a Highlander

A Scottish Short Story

When Giselle McTavish left France as the wife of a Scottish laird, she never expected to be widowed two years later and left with a toddler to raise. Filled with animosity toward Highlander, Hugh Ferguson—the man she holds responsible for her husband’s drowning, and a man she must see every day because he, too, lives at Craiglocky Keep—she’s determined her son, the next laird, will be raised in Scotland, nonetheless. Her struggles to overcome loneliness and homesickness are compounded as it becomes more difficult to fight the warm feelings Hugh now stirs in her. 

Hugh has loved Giselle almost from the moment he laid eyes on the petite Frenchwoman. But as the wife, and then the widow of his dearest friend, he has refused to act on his feelings. He blames himself for his friend’s death. Guilt as well as the belief Giselle hates him, keeps Hugh’s lips firmly closed and his heart sealed. That all changes one providential Valentine’s Day when he risks everything by using Scottish folklore and legend to at last proclaims his love.

Excerpt

Hugh allowed himself a leisurely examination of Giselle as she approached. Such perfection of form and features belonged in heaven amid the rest of the angelic beings.

Gazing up at her son, she smiled and patted his knee. “Non, mon amour, you will be—are—Craiglocky’s laird. However, you are wise to think a knight is the most noble of professions.”

Chest puffed out, Hugh gave an exaggerated theatrical wave. “Aye, we knights be fierce and brave and chivalrous and—”

“Loyal.” Ewan squirmed on Hugh’s shoulder. “Knights always be loyal.”

“Aye, they be, laddie.”

Giselle straightened Ewan’s coat, a wry smile quirking her pretty mouth. “Don’t forget humble and modest . . .”

She sent Hugh a swift, unreadable glance before returning her attention to her son.

Her hood slipped backward and exposed her features.

Extraordinary turquoise eyes, framed by lashes so thick, he wondered how she raised her eyelids, twinkled with affection. Her high cheeks and full lips, glowing from the cold, contrasted with her creamy skin. The wind ruffled the silky, chestnut curls framing her oval face.

Bending forward a handbreadth, Hugh reached behind her and lifted the hood over her head. Her perfume, something light and floral with just a hint of spiciness, wafted to his nostrils. He bent another inch and inhaled.

Intoxicating.

He’d never tire of her scent.

Tugging the hood lower to protect her face, his hand brushed her velvety cheek.

She gasped, and her gaze flew to mesh with his.