As High as the Heavens by Kathleen Morgan Page B

willingly.

    But she refused to entwine her life and hopes and
dreams around some man. All she wanted from a husband was to be left alone to pursue her life as she had
lived it until now. A life filled with books, with music and
fine things, with stimulating conversation and intellectual
pursuits. What she didn't want, and wouldn't tolerate, was
the sacrifice of all at the altar of an unrequited love.
    Aye, Heather decided, it was indeed possible Duncan
Mackenzie desired her. If her attraction for him was so
obvious to Beth and the others, it was most likely equally
obvious to him.
    But he was nothing more than a crude, uncivilized
savage-a savage who surely wanted only to bed her
and nothing more. She had to believe that, though the
longer she was with him, the more difficult it was becoming to cling to those earlier assumptions. Indeed, to
believe anything else was to lay her heart wide open to
unspeakable pain and rejection.
    And he couldn't help who he was. It was part of his
upbringing, the way of the Highlander. Indeed, it was
said they loved nothing more than their fighting and
reiving, their ale and wenching. It was also said they
had no interest in more tender pursuits. They hadn't the
time, nor placed much value, on loving.
    They cannot help themselves ...
    "Aye," Heather replied finally in response to her maid's
question. A fierce determination filling her, she rose and
stared down at Beth. "Because he's a commoner, he can
never, ever, be the man for me."

    The midday meal consisted of two hastily dressed and
roasted hens, some leftover venison haggis, fresh-baked
barley bannocks, a round of hard cheese, and a mess of
boiled cabbage. Dessert-for all Scotsmen were fond of
their sweets-was a burnt cream pudding.
    Though Heather had no cooking ability, she offered
Beth's services to assist Fiona. Duncan, quite surprisingly,
volunteered to fetch whatever ingredients were needed,
set the table, then carry over the bowls of food. Heather,
in the meanwhile, played the hostess, graciously serving
her father, Angus, and Malcolm more heather ale.
    Soon thereafter, Angus hinted broadly that he and
Robert should depart. As Heather watched her father say
his farewells to the others, freshened anxiety swelled in
her. Once he was gone, her fate-whatever it was meant
to be-was sealed.
    "Ye must be brave, lass," Robert said when he finally
came to his daughter. "It's a hard thing I ask of ye, and well
I know it, remaining behind with strangers in a strange
place. But ye do have Beth and Tavish." He managed a grin. "It wasn't easy giving up my head groomsman, ye
know, but I did it for ye, lass."

    "Aye, Father," Heather mumbled, blinking back the
tears. "I know."
    "Lass, lass, it's only for three months." He took her by
the arms and pulled her to him.
    Och, but he smelled so good, Heather thought, clinging to her father like one drowning. Smelled like home,
calling to mind those once simple, happy times when
she had been safe, cosseted, secure. But such comfort
and the naive belief life would always be so had fled,
never to be cherished again. Now, all she had was herself.
Her wits, her courage, and her determination not to be
vanquished-neither by life nor by any man.
    "Once it's over," her father blithely forged on in what
Heather knew was a well-intended attempt to comfort
her, "only three months later ye'll wed Charles Seton.
Soon enough, all of this will be only a memory. A memory
of a great adventure in which ye did yer verra braw part
to save our queen."
    She nodded numbly, then shoved back. For several
seconds Robert stared intently down at her. Then a frown
creased his brow, and he opened his mouth to speak.
    Forcing a bright little smile, Heather immediately cut
him off. She knew him well and knew, despite all his selfserving actions and complex, conflicting motivations,
the soft spot he had for her in his heart. He was on the
verge of rescinding his request for her to