Free As High as the Heavens by Kathleen Morgan

warmed her cheeks. Heather shook
her head vehemently, inasmuch as to dispel the disquieting images as to visibly disagree with Beth's questions.
    "I wouldn't know." She pretended sudden interest in
laying aside her book and climbing into bed. "Ye, with
yer wifely experience, would've been far better suited
than I to assess such manly attributes."
    Beth walked over and pulled the comforter up to cover
her. "Mayhap, but mayhap not. Ye're a woman grown.
Ye know yer mind and what ye like and don't like. And
what I asked for was yer opinion of the Highlander."
    "And what does my opinion of the man matter, one
way or another?" Heather demanded, growing angry because she knew her cheeks still flamed red. "He's naught
to me save as a student to be tutored, and as the key
player in the plot to rescue the queen. One way or another, in three months' time I'll be well rid of him-and
glad of it!"
    "Aye, that ye'll be, my lady. One way or another." Beth
stepped back, snuffed the single candle burning at the
bedside and, in the dim, flickering light of the hearth
fire, smiled. "Be rid of him, I mean. As for the being glad
of it, well, that may well be another matter entirely. Aye,
another matter entirely, if I'm any judge of affairs of the
heart-and the prickly course that loving oft takes."

    The weather the next day, though cold, was perfect
for traveling. The mud from the previous day's rain remained frozen. The sun shone, gracing the land with its
weak radiance, and the usual brisk winter winds failed
to blow.
    After only a sparse breakfast of porridge and hot milk,
Heather, accompanied by Beth, Tavish Gordon, her father, Angus, and Malcolm, set out with Duncan Mackenzie shortly after dawn. They rode directly south for
several hours before reaching the slate gray waters of
Loch Carron, the impressive sight of the mountain range
known as the Five Sisters of Kintail far in the distance.
Finally, they took an old cattle trail east into yet more
mountainous terrain.
    Birch woodlands, their branches still devoid of foliage,
filled the glens along the way. High on the mountainsides,
the mighty red deer stalked the shadowed depths of pine.
Occasionally, Heather caught a glimpse of a wild goat
herd, a few newly born kids among them.
    It was an exciting sight-the rugged beauty of the
snow-capped mountains, the river-threaded broad straths
and barren glens, the forests teeming with wildlife. It was
a land as foreign yet savagely beguiling as the handsome
Highlander who rode before her. Aye, savagely beguiling, Heather reminded herself grimly, and also as dark
and dangerous.
    A little past midday, they reached the last of the myriad, snow-covered hills separating them from the quaint
stone cottage Duncan Mackenzie called home. The little
dwelling sat in a secluded dell, sheltered by tall pines on
the north and a rocky outcropping of mountain on the west. On the east, in a stand of leafless, ancient birches,
was a small but well-built cattle byre.

    From the south, the house looked down on a now
frozen burn that meandered across the steading and
through the cattle pens before emptying into a large pond
at the base of yet another hill. Beyond lay a large, densely
wooded forest. A faint wisp of smoke wafted gently from
the cottage's stone chimney. In the now bright sunshine,
the scene was both charming and welcoming.
    "It doesn't appear so poorly, does it, lass?" Heather's
father asked from beside her. "The steading and house
are obviously well maintained and look quite prosperous.
It won't be as bad as ye first imagined, I'd wager."
    More for Duncan Mackenzie's benefit, who, at her
father's comment, cast a quick glance over his shoulder,
than because she truly felt heartened by the scene before
them, Heather managed a brusque nod. "Aye, I'd imagine
not," she replied. "But then, things aren't usually as bad
as one fears, are they?"
    Duncan eyed her for a brief moment more, then
grinned and turned