Page 3 of Highlander’s Protector

“I’m the king of a kingdom nae bigger than one island. A king who lost everything.”

Something in her stomach lurched, and she fought back the urge to touch the man to see if he was even real. “Who are ye, Lord?”

He gave her a sad smile. “Robert the Bruce. King of Scots.”

The wooden jetty careened under her feet. The voices of the crowd faded into the distance. The world darkened, and only this man stood in the light before her.

“King? My father is king?”

He frowned and looked her over slowly. “Are ye Julianna’s daughter?” he asked. “Alice?”

He didn’t even remember her name.

“Anna,” she croaked out.

He blinked, his features softening. “Anna. Julianna always liked the name.”

Her chest was bursting with tension, heat, pressure. Her cheeks burned as though scalded. Her hands shook. She felt as if she were in a bag and someone was violently shaking it.

Her father, whom she dreamed of, whom she yearned for, whom she despised and adored…was finally before her.

And he wasn’t just Earl of Carrick anymore. He was king now.

She was the daughter of a king.

Oh, Judas, she should have learned all those manners with Laoghaire.

She had an odd sensation of floating up above her body, soaring in the air. “M-may I call ye Father?” she asked, and only knew what she said after she blurted the words out of her mouth.

To her surprise, he grinned and squeezed her shoulder. The touch was like bliss, and she wanted to dive into his arms and let him hug her, inhale the scent of a father who she’d never known.

“Ye may call me Father. My wife, Elizabeth, and my daughter Marjorie are far away. ’Tis good to have family here. Are ye nae afraid to have a fugitive for a father?”

Anna shook her head vigorously. “I’d take ye even if ye were a leper beggar.”

She had almost died in the sea and when she came back to the land, she had a father. He was like a vision, a being from a faerie land, a thing of legends. She was afraid to breathe and spook him away like smoke.

And yet doubt ate at her joy like corrosion. “Why didna ye come to see me all these years?” she asked.

He sank to a crouch before her and was now lower than her. His eyes were dark and glistening like wet blueberries. “I am sorry, lass. Yer mother was my betrothed and we…loved each other before we were wed. I had to leave Islay to serve England, and I got entangled in the war…and then she died before I could marry her. I didna ken of yer existence for a while. Once I found out, I set a dowry aside for ye in Carrick. I dinna have much to offer ye now. My lands in Carrick were seized by Edward I, and I have nae a dime to my name.”

He cupped her face, and she held her breath at the warmth of the touch of her real father on her skin. How many times had she imagined this happening? How many times had she dreamed of him coming back to her? And now he was right here, talking to her. Not a vision or a ghost or her own imagination.

What could she do so that he would stay or accept her as his own flesh and blood and acknowledge her and love her? Her palm hurt and she realized her fingernails were cutting into her skin.

“But I will tell ye this,” he said. “I may be dead tomorrow. But if I am alive and hold a peaceful kingdom one day, I will call upon ye. Ye will live with me and my family at my court. Ye will have yer dowry and ye will have a father. I will arrange a great marriage for ye.”

Fire burned in her chest. She’d die for this man if he needed her to.

He nodded. “Make me proud, Anna. Ye may be a bastart, but ye’re the daughter of a king now. I will need ye one day. Will ye be ready?”

Good gracious, she’d need to be a noble lady now. She’d need to be better than Laoghaire. Her days of freedom were over. But she would stitch every embroidery in Scotland if it pleased him.

“Aye, Father, I will.”

CHAPTER 1

Dunadd Fort, Argyll and Bute, May 1313