Page 68 of In the Highlander's Bed

A party of some twenty men and horses waited for them on a stretch of cleared land beside the ruins. A coach waited to the side, and as the Scots drew closer, a woman opened the door and came out.

Charlotte.

Constance caught her breath at the sight of her sister. Feelings that she thought she’d buried away filled her throat. Yes, Charlotte could be overbearing, but the Cameron sisters loved each other.

Her sister was fashionably dressed in an emerald green and yellow traveling ensemble in the military fashion currently in vogue. A cap of the same emerald sporting cascading yellow feathers sat at an angle on her head.

“That’s my sister, Charlotte,” Constance whispered to Gordon, who reined his horse to a halt some fifty yards from the English just as another woman climbed down from the coach. She wore a marine blue velvet coat and was hugely pregnant.

“It’s Miranda,” Constance said, breathing the words. “Gordon, she’s with child. No wonder she and Alex returned to England.”

Before she realized it or could stop them, tears spilled from her eyes.

“What is it?” Gordon asked. “You never cry.”

“I know,” Constance agreed, the tears still coming no matter how hard she tried to stop them. She pressed her hand against her cheeks. “I just am overwhelmed to see them. And Miranda is going to have a baby.” She smiled through the tears. “That is such a blessing. She and Alex have been through so much.”

“What do you want us to do, Gordon?” Thomas’s businesslike voice cut in.

“The one in the blue jacket is the one who cut me,” Brian said.

The Scots all turned to take the measure of the man. Alex Haddon stood proudly beside Charlotte’s husband, Lord Phillip. In tall boots and breeches, he wore his long hair loose, a Shawnee sign to his enemies that he was not afraid of them.

Lord Phillip appeared equally angry. Constance could not like him. He’d tried to destroy her family over Miranda jilting him for Alex…and yet, they stood side by side, a unified family.

She had only met the Duke of Colster once, briefly, a few months ago. He’d changed since then. Before, he’d been rough around the edges. He now appeared the very model of an English gentleman, and the similaritiesbetween him and his twin Lord Phillip were more pronounced.

They’d all come to fetch her, she realized. Even Miranda, who probably shouldn’t be traveling.

What would they think if they knew she’d brought all of this on herself by first planning to run away? And she hadn’t even left a note…and yet heretheywere for her.

Gordon sensed the change in Constance—and it tore at his heart.

Her sisters stood holding each other as if needing the extra support to stand. Constance should be with them, he thought. They were family.

Colster signaled for one of his men to come forward. The man carried a broadsword in an ornate scabbard, its hilt decorated with bloodred rubies. A ripple of excitement went through the Scots. Colster knew what he was doing. He pulled the Sword of the MacKenna from the scabbard, the sound of metal against metal filling the air. He held the weapon up so the morning’s thin light caught the blade, turning it to silver.

Gordon noticed Lord Phillip stiffen and knew he was not in favor of this transfer. Lord Phillipunderstood, as did Colster, what this sword meant to the Scots.

Colster walked to the halfway point and stuck the sword into the ground.

The time for decision was at hand.

Constance tensed. Gordon wished he knew what she was thinking. He prayed for guidance, for wisdom.

“Wait for me,” he ordered his men. He dismounted and began leading Constance on Tempest toward the duke.

As he walked, Constance whispered, “I love you.”

Gordon halted, suddenly unable to go on. He stood as if rooted to the ground. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn to her, and yet, too many watched.

The actions he took and decisions he made over the next few minutes would determine her future. And they would seal his fate.

He drew a deep breath, his own eyes burning. He dared not turn to her. If he did, he knew he would break.

Without moving, he confessed, “I love you, too, with a passion and depth that has changed my whole being. I want to do what is right, but I no longer know what that is.”

“What does your heart tell you?” Her quietvoice was like the whisper of his own conscience.