A Question of Lust (Questions For A Highlander Book 3) Read online

  A Note Before You Read

  Last year as I was finishing A Question of Trust, the first book in the Questions for a Highlander series, I was thinking about Francis’ brothers knowing at some point, I might write about them as well and, of course, I wanted them to all have wonderfully romantic names.

  About that same time, I was sitting around with my dad watching old movies including the 1942 classic Mrs. Miniver. In the movie, Mrs. Miniver’s son was a WWII pilot named Vincent, but mostly they called him by a short form of the name, Vin.

  Or rather, Van. The way they kept pronouncing it, in that soft English accent, was just lovely and, I thought, very dashing and romantic, as well. Van. Short for Vincent. Not VIN, like our American car identification numbers (or heaven forbid! Vin Diesel) but Van.

  That is how I think of this Vin, a hero as well, a soldier who fought for his country. I hope you will hear his name in your mind the same way as you read his story.

  Chapter 1

  I cannot be awake for nothing looks to me as it did before,

  Or else I am awake for the first time,

  and all before has been a mean sleep.

  Walt Whitman

  London, England

  Christmas Day 1892

  Grief, weariness and elation clashed within the earl fighting for control as he sat in the darkened room, his face buried in his hands. It was emotionally draining to be subject to such diversity of feeling. It was not by any stretch of the imagination how Francis MacKintosh, Earl of Glenrothes, planned spending his Christmas. Here he was though, away from his family and his wife who was due to deliver their first child in just a few weeks time.

  However, he couldn’t feel sorry for it because suddenly the whole world had shifted under his feet. The reason for that lie before him, asleep or unconscious, Francis wasn’t sure.

  Vin was alive. Found and returned to England five years after he being presumed dead. Five years of grief for the loss of his brother who, just a year younger than he, had been his closest friend and companion as a youth.

  Lord Captain Anthony Temple, the man who came Edinburgh to deliver the news of Vincent MacKintosh’s recovery to Glenrothes and escort the earl to London, had little to say about what happened to Vin these past years. The captain had only said that he had been the one to ‘find’ Vincent and that Vin was currently at a London hospital in serious condition. The earl could only imagine the horrors that had left his brother in the condition he was in now.

  Though eternally grateful for the captain, Glenrothes had been frustrated through the entire eleven-hour train ride to London when the closemouthed chap resisted his persistent prodding for more details. Eventually, the earl focused his energies, upon his arrival into the city, to transferring Vincent to the Glenrothes townhouse and securing a private nurse and doctor to take proper care of his brother.

  After examination and conferring with the other physicians, the doctor confirmed that Vin’s condition was as severe as Temple hinted. He’d explained that Vincent was recovering from years of bodily trauma and a diet that might have occasionally bordered on starvation. The doctor added that it would probably be several weeks before Vin would be ready to travel. Such news only made the curiosity in Francis burn stronger.

  What had happened?

  Francis looked down at the man asleep in the bed, this shell of what remained of the brother who had sailed away five years before. The last time he had seen Vin, he had been as brawny a Scot as Francis, tall and thick with muscle born from years of sport and work. Now he was as lean as a whipcord. Wiry, too thin and gaunt.

  Vin hadn’t awoken since Francis arrived, remaining unconscious during the transfer from the hospital. Remaining as still as the dead, until moments ago, when a frown creased his brow and Vin had begun to sweat. A nightmare, the earl deduced, wondering at its source as his brother thrashed under the covers before flinging them off. With a throaty cry, Vin jerked upright, abruptly awake and lashing out at Francis.

  “NO!” Vin cried out hoarsely.

  Francis grasped his brother’s head between his hands forcing the other man’s attention while Vin struggled to escape the nightmare that bound him. “Vin! Vincent! It's me. Francis! Look at me!” he demanded when Vin’s eyes darted around wildly. “Look at me!” Vin grasped at Francis’ wrists and struggled against him, but Glenrothes held on calling his brother’s name.

  Vin stared into the familiar green eyes just inches in front of him in confusion and disbelief. He hadn’t seen them in years and had never thought to again. Slowly, he stopped struggling as recognition seeped in. “Francis? Is that you?”

  His voice was raspy and dry from disuse but Francis heard and drew his brother firmly into a backslapping hug with a shout of joy. “Aye, brother, it is I,” the earl whispered as he embraced his long-lost brother.

  Disbelief warred with reality for several moments, but soon Vin was returning the hug, tightly grasping his older brother to him. Joy flooded him, mixed with relief and an unwilling sob escaped the battered man followed by another. Vin tried in vain to stop the emotions, to stifle the unmanly tears seeping past his tightly closed eyes, knowing he would seem weak by giving into them. Then he realized Francis was crying as well. His older brother, the earl of Glenrothes, reduced to tears? Surely, his own were allowed then!

  They held each other tightly for many long minutes until Francis finally cleared his throat and released Vin, wiping his tears as he dropped back into the chair by the bed. Seeing that release of tension, Vin recognized his own exhaustion and lay back down wearily though he held a hand out to the other man who clasped it in his. A thousand questions raged in his mind but Vin only asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Someone had to come down here and get you, you know,” Francis joked, though raw emotion still shook his voice. “Heard you were being a lazy bastard who couldn’t even bother to come home by yourself.”

  A reluctant smile raised one side of Vin’s lips in acknowledgment of the sarcasm before lapsing back into a frown. “How long have you been here?”

  “Just since this morning.”

  “How long have I been here?” was the next question that came to mind.

  “A few days according to Temple,” his brother answered.

  Vin’s mind flooded with memories of Temple and their long journey since his rescue. The weeks aboard ship returning to… “Where am I?”

  “Our house in London.”

  Vin looked around the bedchamber. He didn’t recognize it at all. Last time he’d been to London, all the bedchambers in their grandmother’s townhouse had been darkly paneled with heavy curtains and coverings. Despite the dimness of the room, however, he could see the paneling was now white and the walls above a soft blue. The once heavy bedclothes were now vivid yellows and blues. It was cheerful and light, a sharp contrast to the dark oppressiveness of his mind. Images flooded him as he remembered. His recollection was spotty at best, as he thought over the past several weeks. He had drifted continually in and out of consciousness, so it had been difficult to mark the passage of time. He might not recognize his surroundings, but he clearly remembered where he had been before all this. Vin pushed the images away. “Aye, I remember now, I was at the hospital.”

  “I had you transferred here this morning,” his brother told him unaware of the conflict in Vin’s mind. “When you are feeling up to it, I will take you home.”

  Home, Vin thought with an aching heart. Scotland, Glen Cairn. More pleasant memories flowed through him recalling it all - his brothers, his sister, the highlands and his youthful summers. With a sigh, he relaxed into the fea
ther mattress that was much softer than any he’d known in years, absorbed the warmth from the fireplace and the friendly, comforting contact of his brother’s hand in his own.

  “I’d like to go home,” he whispered after a time, though more to himself than to his brother. Home. It had become some mythical place to him over the past years. An unreachable haven. A sanctuary where pain would no longer exist. “When?”

  “Might take awhile,” Francis told him. “The doctor says you need to take some time to regain your strength. The journey here did not help your condition at all. Plus, he insists on peace and relaxation for now and you know you’d not get that at home. A few weeks, perhaps?”

  Vin grunted again in acknowledgment. He felt weak as a kitten, it was true. While he did love his family, the very thought of being bombarded with the affections and questions of the whole MacKintosh clan was enough to make him inwardly cringe. Aye, peace and relaxation sounded wonderful for now. Just knowing that he was safe, that pain would soon be a thing of the past…

  He sighed jadedly, wondering if it would ever truly be in his past or if he would live with it for all the years to come. “How long have I been gone? I know Temple said but…”

  “It’s been five years since we found out you were missing,” came his brother’s reply.

  Vin’s head swam at his words. Five years! He pressed a hand to his eyes to blot out how those years were spent, reluctant to revisit them. “Temple said Richard made it through?” he asked, referring to their younger brother.

  “He did,” Francis answered. “He was badly injured though. It was he who brought word of your capture. We tried to go after you when he healed but could find no trace.”

  “Aye, Temple said as much.” More memories forced their way into Vin’s mind – the caravan of nomadic rebels, the heat, and the never-ending thirst – but he forced them back with some effort. Sleep. He just wanted to lose himself in a dreamless sleep, to forget for a measure of time the horror of these past years. However, even that was denied him as nightmares haunted him every time he closed his eyes. There was little comfort to be found awake or asleep. His brother’s presence was the closest he had coming to feeling any measure of peace in years. He eyed Francis. “Will you stay?”

  Francis squeezed his hand. “While I can. I must go back to Edinburgh in a couple weeks.” A smile spread over his face as he added. “You should congratulate me, brother. I am to be a father.”

  Surprise chased after disbelief through Vin’s mind. “You mean Vanessa and you?” It was a staggering thought. On his last furlough, Vin had heard his brother was planning to divorce his scandalous wife.

  Francis chuckled. “I divorced Vanessa four years ago, but I married again earlier this year. ‘Tis my new wife who is bearing our child.”

  Vincent stared at his brother in shock. If someone had asked him if his eldest brother would ever remarry and look so pleased about it, Vin would have wagered his entire fortune against it. Glenrothes’ marriage to Vanessa Fane jaded all the MacKintosh brothers’ views on the institution for never had there been a greater example on how bad it could be. Vanessa was the worst sort of wife. A bitch and slut who had made their lives hell and slept with any number of men. She’d even pursued Vin at one point. It had been a sickening experience and he would never make the mistake of engaging in something that held so much potential for ruin. He would never have thought that Francis would put his head through that noose again and Vin told him so.

  To his further bemusement, Francis only smiled in a way that spoke volumes to the contrary. “My wife is nothing like Vanessa. You’ll see when you meet her. Much has changed since you’ve been gone. Richard wed Abygail Merrill not long after his return.”

  “No, really?” Vin pictured his friend Jack Merrill’s young sister in his mind, a petite, blond angel who never seemed more than a child to him. He couldn’t imagine her wed to Richard, though he knew that she’d trailed after him like a lost puppy for years.

  “Aye,” Francis went on. “They have three children now. Sean and Colin married earlier this year as well to Baron Teynham’s two lasses. Even Merrill wed recently.”

  Vin just blinked at him in disbelief sure his brother was pulling his leg with each added piece of information. Richard, a father? His young brothers married? Surely, they weren’t old enough! And Merrill married? Never! There had never been a greater womanizer in all of Scotland. “Surely you’re jesting? Jack would never wed.”

  His brother only laughed again. “No, it's true. Just a few months ago, in fact, to my wife’s younger sister. They are expecting a bairn soon as well.”

  To Vin’s mind, that single bit of information answered all his questions. His childhood friend surely had his hand forced to bend to the bonds of matrimony. That he’d gotten a lass pregnant wasn’t much of a surprise, that he’d been caught… A wisp of a smile crossed his lips before it faded away. “I will look forward to meeting your wife.”

  “You will soon. If you’re feeling up to it, you might return with me in a couple weeks otherwise I will come back here after the bairn is born.”

  Fatigue held Vin in its grip then as he thought of the changes that had taken place while he was gone. That, indeed, life had gone on without him. There would be new faces to his family and suddenly the prospect of having to endure the pleasantries of those introductions seemed too much for him. All these things were just the tip of the iceberg, he was certain. There would be more surprises to come and suddenly he felt unprepared to face them. He turned his head away to stare at the fire. “We’ll see.”

  Francis felt Vin’s withdrawal and sensed there was much troubling him, but didn’t feel the time was right to ask all the questions he wanted answered. “I’ll go see about your dinner, rest now.”

  When Francis rose, releasing his hand, Vin turned back to watch him walk away noting now the years that had passed on Glenrothes. The earl had changed. Everything changed. Everyone else might have too. For a moment, Vin thought he would almost be willing to return to the hell of the past years to avoid the one awaiting him. He shuddered at the thought. He would die before he let that happen. Life went on. He merely needed to catch up with it…if he could. “Francis?”

  Glenrothes turned back with his hand on the knob and raised a brow.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Nay, Vin,” the older man said gruffly. “I’m glad you’re here. I have missed you more than you know. This is the best gift I could ever hope for. Happy Christmas, brother.”

  Having not realized what the day was, Vin gave a start. Aye, it was indeed a great gift to have one’s life back.

  Chapter 2

  Although the world is full of suffering,

  it is also full of the overcoming of it.

  Helen Keller

  While Vin slept the balance of the evening away, Lord Glenrothes sat below in his study thinking about his younger brother and the changes these passed years had wrought. More than the physical, that much had become obvious within moments of Vin’s waking. The devil no longer dwelled playfully in Vin’s brown eyes as it had in years past. There was a wealth of knowledge and hardship there now. Weariness. Suffering.

  Bugger it all! Francis wished that Temple had provided some clue about what had happened these past five years! Anything that might help him understand the transformation Vin had undergone. He could only hope the close friendship they experienced as young lads would once again blossom and be enough to encourage his brother’s confidence. Only then, could Francis share in Vin’s burden and perhaps help to ease it.

  Or perhaps one of the other’s might help? As boys, the two of them had been part of an inseparable band of boon companions that included Richard, the third brother in their family, and their close friends Jack Merrill and Jason MacKenzie. The five of them spent their formative years attending school together at The Royal High School in Edinburgh playing cricket and practical jokes on underclassmen. Their families had all been friends since their own fat
hers attended school together.

  Life changed, however, after his father, Alec MacKintosh, died leaving Francis as the earl of Glenrothes and responsible for his ten younger siblings. While his brothers and friends moved on to Cambridge to study, Francis had married and by necessity stayed close to home attending the University at St. Andrews. The responsibility matured him in a way the others hadn’t understood. It kept him apart but longing to be one of them again.

  At loose ends after their university years, Vincent, Richard and Jason decided to buy commissions into the Queen’s army as so many younger sons of the nobility tended to do. For Vin and Richard, it seemed a practical move, an occupation. For Jason MacKenzie, the only remaining male descendant of two great Scottish families, it was seen as a youthful rebellion. His father and grandfather threatened him with disinheritance for his ‘stupidity’ as they put it. Indeed, they might have done it if Jason had a brother or even distant cousin available to inherit. As it was, Jason defied them, his future position and responsibilities, and joined anyway thinking the thing a lark. Never realizing he would truly be risking his own skin.

  Their ill-timed commissions coincided with the Urabi rebellion in Egypt that summer of 1882. As officers of the Scots Guard 1st Battalion under Major General (His Royal Highness) the Duke of Connaught’s 1st Infantry Brigade, the trio were on the first ships sent to Egypt. The troops were intent on reaching Alexandria to put a stop to Urabi’s uprising against Britain’s control over his homeland. Egypt was a land which the Crown retained possession of for its economic benefit. They weren’t about to give it up without a fight.

  Glenrothes received many letters from Vin and Richard during that time. For five weeks, they fought at Kafr-el-Dawwar while trying to reach Cairo by way of Alexandria. Their descriptions of the bloody battles proved the experience lacked the glory they assumed their service would bring. The bloodshed and deaths of many of their comrades-at-arms hardened them all quickly. That August, they finally moved on with more than 40,000 British troops invading the Suez Canal zone to destroy Urabi and his rebellion.