Page 30 of Her Highland Destiny

He’d only ever known one woman to possess such hair. Strange.

The crowd grew thicker when they pressed to the front of the gate. Peasants sought alms and people cried out their need to see the king to settle petty squabbles. The woman with red hair moved through the guards with ease and disappeared into a crowd of nobles within. A chill trickled down Fergus’ spine. The likeness was eerie. Aye, that was it, what he was feeling. An eeriness.

He pushed his way to the guards with Cassandra behind him, his bulk clearing the crowd aside for her. The two guards closed the path before him despite his size, and met his gaze with steely resolution.

“I am Fergus the Undefeated,” he said with all the authority imbued in such a name.

The guards’ eyes widened and they immediately stood aside to let him pass. One of them turned and ran toward the castle, no doubt to inform the king. Cassandra’s pulse raced against the heel of Fergus’ hand and yet the churning anxiety she’d cast earlier settled to a surprising calm.

She was ready.

She nodded at him, as if to confirm he had heard her thoughts correctly. He nodded in return. For they would do this together, and they would be victorious. They had to be.

Fergus kept his hand clasped around hers though the thinned crowds within the castle did not warrant it. Together they were strong.

They were nearly to the throne room when the woman with red hair turned the corner in front of them, her back facing them. It had been ten years, a lifetime ago, but seeing her from that angle, Fergus knew without question who it was, however impossible it may be.

Or perhaps not. He could have easily been fed lies.

Regardless, he let go of Cassandra’s hand in his determination to know, and closed the distance between himself and the red haired woman. She spun to face him, her green eyes wide with surprise, and confirmed his suspicions.

“Fergus,” she whispered in awe.

He stared down at her as though he’d seen a ghost, for surely he had. “Allisandre.”

12

Cassandra stood rooted in awkward shock. This woman with her flame red hair and luscious curves was Fergus’ wife? His dead wife?

Quite alive, Allisandre put her hands to Fergus’ face and pressed her full lips to his. Cassandra’s stomach twisted. It was the very way she had bestowed her own affection to Fergus before. Had she been doing it the same as his wife all these weeks?

Fergus, for his part, stood rigidly in front of Allisandre. “They said ye died in childbirth.”

“Clearly I have not.” She gave a lovely little laugh and smoothed her hands down the front of her dress as though she were nervous. “They have kept me locked up, summoning me only now. They told me…” She touched her fingers to his lips with wonder. “They told me ye were dead.”

Cassandra stared hard at Fergus and willed herself to hear his thoughts. Yet without touching him, she could not hear what he was thinking, not even with the stone. Nay, she was merely left miserable, standing by and wondering. The battle she had prepared to face was a welcome alternative to this.

“They have our son, Fergus.” Allisandre drew in a shuddering breath. “They have Geordie.”

Fergus flinched at that. The name. The one he had wondered for ten long years. Who was Cassandra to begrudge him this happiness, or worse, keep him from it?

“Do ye have it?” Allisandre put a hand to Fergus’ chest, directly over the swell of his firm muscles.

Cassandra had loved to touch him there. She ought to look away, to break the pain of seeing their interaction, and yet found she could not.

“I have the stone,” Fergus confirmed.

“Did you bring the Protector?” Allisandre turned and scanned the hallway. Her bright green eyes skimmed past Cassandra and searched the space behind her.

“Aye.” Fergus indicated Cassandra who did her best to appear impassive despite the obvious snub.

“Her?” Allisandre's brows lifted with blatant disbelief. “She's a scrap of a thing, isn't she?”

Fergus' jaw clenched. For her part, Cassandra didn't know what to make of his reaction, and wished she didn’t care.

Rather than dwell on it, she fixed her focus to the task at hand. After all, she was counting on being underestimated. Instead, she set her mind to the plan. She was there to save Fergus' son, and she was here to see her role as Protector met.

The stone lay against her skin, over her heart, rightfully strung about her neck and carefully hidden beneath the neckline of her wool dress.