Page 28 of Her Highland Destiny

There was only one thing she kept guarded, one small bit she couldn’t share.

“Cassandra.” He drew in a harsh breath. “Do not love me.”

“I cannot make myself stop. Even as I knew you would betray me, I understood your cause and I love you.” Saying the words aloud loosened the tight hold fear had on her. It was like throwing wide one’s hands in the air and flying free. “I love you, Fergus.”

“Dinna say it.” He pulled his hands away, but not fast enough, not before she sensed what charged through him. Doubt. Not in her, but in himself.

He would have to believe in his worth before he accepted her love, and before he could allow himself to feel the same way.

“Let me help you,” she insisted. “We can work together to save your son.”

He strode to the shuttered windows and braced his hands on either side of the frame. His head hung in defeat between his shoulders. “I dinna like this.”

She approached him and reached out, hungry to know what it was he thought when he was so guarded with his mind.

“I have to choose between ye or my son.”

“I am not making you choose.” Her arms longed to hold him. Not only for his thoughts, but for the comfort of his warmth and strength.

“Do ye no’ see how much worse it is?” He straightened. “Ye are willingly walking into a trap, mayhap sacrificing yerself, for my happiness.”

“You would do the same for me,” she said.

He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace. His arms were warm and strong, the embrace so comforting and rife with power, she melted against him. He nuzzled her, his lips brushing her ear.

Her body immediately lit with desire, raw and desperate. In the previous week they had touched so little, and had no time alone; she needed him like she needed air. His mouth slanted over hers and seared her with the force of his own lust.

She sensed the emotions warring within him, the worthlessness overwhelmed by want. It would all work out. She conveyed the thought to him in her mind in an attempt to share her confidence before giving herself completely to the heat of his touch and the delicious fire it ignited within her.

I have a plan.

11

Cassandra’s plan required a week long delay in Stirling upon their arrival. After having taken almost a month to get there, the wait was a generous sacrifice. One they were not pleased with having to make. The length of time for their travel had been unheard of, even in winter as they now were.

The winds blew without cessation and the constant blend of rain and snow left all of Scotland frozen over. It was nearly two moons since Fergus had put the stone around his neck. The earth’s pulse was beginning to grow weak beneath Cassandra’s feet, pressing her own purpose despite her knowledge of how important Fergus’ son truly was.

She hadn’t realized how painful it would be to be near the stone, to tangibly understand the debilitating effects on the earth, and do nothing. There was a maternal ache in her chest, and her charge was dying. Scotland needed her.

The understanding tore into her heart and ravaged her conscience. There were times she wished she had not seen Fergus’ thoughts, that she didn’t know of his son and could take the stone without guilt.

But she did know, and she put her plan into place regardless. At the end of the week, they found themselves anxiously receiving the jeweler they had commissioned to replicate the stone. The slim-figured man with dainty fingers had carefully sketched the stone from Fergus’ neck, never once asking why he would not remove it. Now, he pulled out a narrow black velvet cushion and pulled aside a layer of cloth to reveal the replica.

She and Fergus leaned close to the cushion, their breath held to determine if the expense of the remainder of Fergus’ gold had been worthwhile. The green stone glittered in the candlelight, the simple gold chain delicate as a cobweb. Perfectly identical.

“It’s glass, of course.” The goldsmith shifted the cushion beneath the stone. The light caught at it and flashed in the heart of the fake gem as though it were made of fire within. He caught the delicate strand in the frame of his long fingers and held it aloft.

“It doesn’t look like glass.” Cassandra ducked her head and allowed the man to place it about her neck. The stone settled cool against her chest. But the true Heart of Scotland was warm, imbued with a life of its own.

“It looks bonny on ye, lass.” Fergus lightly touched her face.

The glass will warm when ye wear it.

His words whispered in her mind, conveyed through the true stone. She nodded in agreement and tried to quell her doubt that the plan would work. It had seemed feasible before. But now with them being so very close to Edinburgh, so close to whatever awaited them there, she worried it wouldn’t be enough.

If they failed, Fergus’ son may die.

If she failed, Scotland could die.