Enticed by the Highlander

A Collection of Highland Romance Novellas

USA Today Bestselling Author

Hildie McQueen

Enticed by the Highlander

Editor: Scott Moreland

Copyright © Hildie McQueen 2015

Kindle Edition

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Other Works by Hildie McQueen

(In reading order)

Highland Historical Romance

Declan’s Bride

Ian’s Bride

Highland Mists

Highland Archer

Highlander’s Bride

The Duke’s Fiery Bride

Clan Ross

A Heartless Laird

A Hardened Warrior

A Hellish Highlander

Moriag Series

Beauty and the Highlander

The Lass and the Laird

Lady and the Scot

The Laird’s Daughter

The McDougalls

Highlander’s Captive

Seducing Her Laird

Enticing Her Highlander

Ravished by the Laird

In the Warrior’s Arms

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Other Works by Hildie McQueen

Beauty and the Highlander

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

The Lass and the Laird

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Lady and The Scot

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

The Laird’s Daughter

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Excerpt from Highlander, The Archer

About the Author

Beauty and the Highlander

Chapter One

Gordon Keep, Highlands of Scotland

When the evening meal was placed before him, an annoyed Carrick Gordon plowed through the food, planning to retreat to his chambers as soon as possible. He didn’t raise his head when his father, the laird, raised a large goblet with a slurred battle cry to the clansmen who returned the gesture with cups raised and loud hollers of the same blather.

The huge dining hall at the Gordon Keep was especially noisy this eve. It was filled with the boisterous talk of the clansmen who’d just returned from competition in the games and the clanking of plates and cups slammed onto the long tables. The noise elevated with each new pitcher of ale that was passed.

Carrick scanned the room, noting his own guardsmen remained reserved. They’d not competed, not because he’d kept them from it, but by choice. Their alliance was with the small nearby town of Moriag, where he and they lived a quiet unassertive life where the clans coexisted in peace.

His father’s keep was large and well protected. It was his childhood home and, admittedly, he was fond of the dwelling.

The keep was vastly different from the more modest home where he now lived with only a small serving staff and a handful of guardsmen for company.

Unable to live with his father and brother any longer, Carrick had moved away from his family home right after his mother’s death several years earlier, preferring the solitude and quiet of his smaller keep.

It was not just the difference in lifestyle that kept him away. Both his father and younger brother, Declan, made his existence unbearable.

“Avail me of more ale,” his father, Laird Angus Gordon, bellowed to a serving wench who scurried to do his bidding. Once his cup was filled, he took a long draw from the tankard and slammed it onto the table. Gritzel, the laird’s current wife, jumped when the cup cracked the thick worn wood. Her eyes darted to her husband before lowering to the table.

Throughout the meal, she kept her gaze down, her shaky hand reaching for food and, on occasion, the goblet of wine. Studying her, Carrick caught sight of fresh bruising on the woman’s jaw.

Carrick looked to his father who, in turn, observed the meek woman’s movements with an interest that could only be described as satisfaction. Fear fed Angus Gordon’s ego and he was adept at getting it from not only his family, but also the clanspeople as well. The laird’s penchant for cruelty to women was well known.

When Gritzel flinched at his father’s placing his hand over hers, the food on Carrick’s plate lost its appeal. He pushed the plate away and picked up the cup of ale instead. He studied his father’s profile and the laird turned to him.

The laird cleared his throat upon noticing Carrick’s regard. “Yer lass and her uncle arrive on the morrow. Can you attempt to behave as if you are part of this family while he is here?” The older man leaned back into the chair and focused on him, shrewd eyes lingering on his plain tunic. “Perhaps something more presentable in the way of attire?”

Carrick could only gape at the words, at a loss for a reply. Exactly how did the laird expect him to act? If there was anyone who’d spurned him and ensured he’d never felt to be a part of the Gordon Clan, it was his father. “The agreement has been made. I sincerely doubt my way of dress will change anything. This marriage agreement was not my doing, but yours,” he retorted and stood. “I bid you good night, Father.”

His father’s words stopped him from leaving. “It’s up to you, of course. The chit has nowhere to go. Either way, she will remain here, for her family will shun her if she is rejected by you.” He shrugged. “I suppose I can always give her to your brother.” Narrowed eyes scrutinized Carrick, taking in the scar that ran from the corner of his right eye down to his upper lip. “But then again, the woman will, no doubt, refuse you at first glance. Therefore, this conversation may be but a waste of breath.”

His younger brother, Declan, smirked, but a worried expression flickered when he regarded their father. “I am in no need of a wife as of now, Father. The McGregors will insist on the agreed upon marriage to him.” He looked to Carrick.

Angus burped without embarrassment and waved his hands in dismissal. “You are correct in that I suppose. Enough of this talk. Whether horrified or not, she will marry Carrick.”

Preferring to die before he’d give his father the satisfaction of a reaction, Carrick shrugged. “As you wish. It matters naught to me.” He walked with purposeful, unhurried steps toward his chambers.

Damn them all to hell.

How he craved to be away from the place. No sooner did the woman arrive and they were married, they’d leave without haste. The farther away from his father, the better.

That he was at Gordon Keep was only because Analise McGregor came and he’d agreed to marry her. The clans made an agreement and he’d given his word to be present when she arrived instead of sending a proxy, which would have been his first choice. But the lass did not deserve to be disregarded in such a manner. He’d be damned before he left her in his father’s care.

At the top of the stairs, he hesitated and tried to remember if he’d hit his head or drank too much ale on that cursed day which led him to agree to be present for the farce of a marriage.

No. The true reason was that he felt a kinship with Analise, something in common as it were. Her clan did not want her and they were going to marry her off in an effort to rid themselves of her. His family had done the same, practically pushed him out the door when he expressed interest in moving to Moriag, his mother’s abandoned ancestral home.

Yet, there was a big difference between Analise and him. No matter how much his father detested him, he was the first-born and would be the next Laird of Clan Gordon. A grim smile curved his lips.

The fact that he’d one day lead the clan is what kept him from disappearing to never return. One day he’d be Laird Gordon and there was little his conniving younger brother or father could do about it. Once that day came, he’d do his best to right every wrong Angus Gordon had ever committed.

With a deep breath, Carrick entered the bedroom and washed his face from the water bowl and pitcher. He removed his clothing, folding the plain tunic with care over a chair. He had no servant to help him, which suited him just fine. He’d always found someone fawning over him disconcerting.

Once in bed, he stared at the ceiling. The hand fast agreement was made in haste between his father and the McGregor, who seemed desperate to place his niece in a respectable household. No doubt, the lass was homely, otherwise she’d not be married off to a clan that gave them little in return. However, if Clan McGregor was in some kind of trouble, the Gordons with their large number of well-trained warriors were a good ally to have. A strong clan alliance was the price paid for Analise.

Additionally, she’d one day be the laird’s wife.

Thankfully, his father did not try to convince Carrick to remain on Gordon lands when he’d said that once the ceremony was complete, they’d return to Moriag. His wife would be safe and the mistress of her own home. In Moriag she’d not be subjected to the laird’s cruelty. Eventually he’d return to his seat as laird, but for now his life away suited him fine.

No matter how uncomely this woman was, she did not deserve to be pawned off to Declan as a wife or worse, a bedmate. His brother was hot blooded and would not settle anytime in the near future.

No sooner had Declan become of an age to take women, then the stories of his prowess surfaced. Maids eyed Declan when he passed, their eyes widening and lips curving in anticipation he’d take them by the arm and lead them away to his chambers. And the young man usually complied.

Carrick exhaled and closed his eyes, unsure of how prepared he was for his betrothed’s arrival. This woman would be his wife. The faceless Analise would live out the rest of her life as his companion. What could Carrick do if the woman was, indeed, repulsed by his disfigured face? Nothing could be done about it he supposed. The jagged scar, which ran from the temple down to his lip, was too prominent to ignore or hide.

A grim chuckle echoed in the silence. Carrick stroked the bumpy skin and considered that maybe all this was for naught. There was the possibility that after one look at him, the woman, whether ugly or beautiful, would recoil with repulsion and beg her uncle to break the agreement. If McGregor’s brother cared for her, he might comply.

A loud knock took him from his thoughts. “Come in.”

The door swung open and Declan leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his broad chest, his face impassive. “Father is none too happy at your abrupt departure from the dining hall.”

“I’m sure his tender heart will recover.” Carrick continued to stare at the ceiling, ignoring his brother. “What do you want, Declan?”

Only slightly shorter, Declan was a bit leaner as well. Yet, like Carrick, the young warrior was trained to be a lethal warrior. The fabric of his tunic strained over his muscular arms. “Are you going to go through with the marriage?” His brother’s eyes shifted away, scanning the room before coming back to him.

Carrick smiled, knowing his brother hoped he’d follow through and that he would not be thrown in to marriage in his stead. “Do you fear you’ll be saddled with a homely woman when the McGregor demands you step into my place after the lass refuses to marry me?”

Declan’s hands dropped to his sides and curled into fists. “Answer the question, Carrick.”

“I think a wife would help you settle and slow down your bedsport.”

His brother glowered, but remained silent, his jawline muscle bunching.

A yawn escaped and Carrick propped his upper body from the bed onto his elbows. “I will be there tomorrow. I agreed to the marriage. It matters naught to me who I am tied to.”

When Declan visibly relaxed, Carrick continued. “Of course, like Father stated, she may be repulsed by my disfigurement and beg off. If her uncle has a soft heart, she may still end up with you.”

“Women do not get a choice,” Declan sneered. “If I ever marry, I will choose my wife. Someone who brings power, not shame, to this clan. I need to marry a woman who will bring coin to my pocket. I do not have my own title to fall back upon like you.”

Carrick shrugged. “Like I said earlier, it matters naught to me.”

“Just ensure you are there.” A thump sounded as his brother closed the door behind him.

Carrick chuckled.

Chapter Two

Looking up at her intended’s clan’s home, Analise McGregor shook so hard her teeth chattered. She pulled her horse to a stop and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The Gordon Keep was immense, the austere, gray walls of the building blending with the eerie mist of the Highland mountains that surrounded it.

The imposing structure loomed over them as they neared and she closed her eyes and prayed. Please let my intended be a kind man. And if there is some way to not have to go through with the marriage at all, let it happen.

The sense of dread refused to leave no matter how much she recited prayers over and over in her head.

God help her, if only there were a way to escape, to live out her life as a common villager. All she desired was a cottage of her own where she’d make a living as a seamstress. Anything was better than losing her freedom. How had it come to this? The unraveling of her life to end in marriage to a stranger far from everything and everyone she’d ever known?

A tear slipped down her cheek, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. She looked to her uncle to ensure he did not notice her weeping. The last thing she wanted was to worry the kind, elderly man.

As if on cue, a heavy drizzle began to fall as they rode up to the thick, daunting gates and Analise pulled her heavy cape tighter around her shoulders.

“Lift that chin child, all will be well.” Although intended to be comforting, her uncle’s words fell hollow by the drawn brows over his warm eyes. “Once yer married and with a wee one hanging on yer skirts, this day will seem more like dream.”

A nightmare would be a more apt description. Not wanting to worry him more, Analise nodded and gave him what she hoped was a brave smile. “Aye, Uncle, may your words come to pass.”

His lips curved. “Ye want wee ones do ye not?”

In spite of the dread, she couldn’t help but relax just a bit. “True, I do, Uncle. Bairns are God’s gifts and bring joy.”

The heavy gates groaned open and the small party was allowed into a sizable, well-kept courtyard.

Analise kept her attention on her horse, clutching the reins until they were taken from her hands. Too soon, she was assisted down from her mount and young lads went off with their horses. Analise couldn’t help but look after her mild-mannered mare, wishing she’d dashed for freedom when she’d had a chance.

The laird neared and greeted them. Tall and barrel-chested, the male’s eyes raked over her, hesitating at her breasts. Analise made sure to keep her chin lifted, her eyes straight ahead. In spite of the shiver of repulsion that crept up her spine, she did not stir. Was his son to be as lecherous?

Whatever the men spoke of did not reach her ears. She was far too busy searching for any possible escape.

“I welcome you both. I am Angus Gordon.” Once again, the laird studied her, a cruel twist to his lips as if he found her distasteful.

“My thanks,” she replied, only meeting the man’s gaze for a second.

If the son was anything like the father, she’d run away. There had to be other exits besides the large gates. She’d take flight before marrying anyone that would mistreat her.

The thumps of her heart echoed with each place her eyes landed. The walls were dense, the guardsman who stood atop the towers huge, and the logs set to secure the gates once closed, immense. The Gordon Keep seemed virtually impenetrable. Not an easy target for enemies to invade or for someone to steal away from.

There was movement past where the laird and her uncle stood talking. A lone man descended the steps. The tartan colors he wore identified him as a Gordon. Long, dark brown, burnished hair fell forward concealing his features, yet his presence had an immediate effect on her. Analise followed the man’s progress as he neared.

Broad shouldered with an expansive well-formed chest that tapered to a trimmer waist and hips, he commanded attention. He moved closer, his gait sure and fluid. At her study of him, breathing came easier and she was able to control her troubling heart rate only to lose it again when the amber eyes lifted and locked to hers. Dark slashes for eyebrows, his mouth tight, the exquisite man studied her. He exuded raw power. With chiseled cheekbones and an aristocratic nose, he seemed more masterpiece than human. If not for the jagged scar that distorted his right cheek and full upper lip, she’d think a more flawless creature did not exist.

“Miss McGregor.” His deep voice resonated through her and he lowered his head, barely a bow. “I am Carrick Gordon. Your betrothed.”

Analise’s eyes flew to each of the people surrounding them. Surely this was a cruel joke. A jest at her expense. At any moment, another man would stumble into the courtyard and be introduced as the real bridegroom. The laird leaned forward, as if anticipating something, perhaps for her to utter something in response, but she found herself at a lack for words.

Thankfully, Carrick presented his arm and spoke again. “Allow me to escort you inside.” She slid her hand onto his arm. His strong forearm under her palm steadied her.

They followed the laird and her uncle into the clan’s great room, the man beside her silent. If he’d been as anxious about her, it could explain his lack of conversation. She wondered if he’d been displeased upon meeting her.

She was not plain of face and her body remained trim, her breasts full. At the same time, she brought little in the way of a dowry to offer a future laird.

From under her lashes, she slid her gaze to where her hand rested on her bridegroom’s thick arm. She wanted to study him further. Unfortunately, his height made it impossible for her to look at his face.

He led her forward, the entire time remaining aloof, rigid almost.

“I didn’t get the opportunity to introduce myself,” Analise whispered to him. “I am…”

“I am aware of who you are, Analise McGregor.” His words were curt, almost as if he were bothered that she’d been taken aback upon meeting him. Surely he was used to people’s reactions to his astonishing good looks?

When they stopped beside a chair, Analise was finally able to look at him and she managed a smile. At a loss as to what to say while they stood with the group, she glanced across the room. “You have a very nice home.”

Carrick did not reply to her comment. He motioned to the chair. “Would you please sit? I’m afraid my father’s wife is not feeling well. However, she should join us at the evening meal.”

His father’s wife. Ah, yes, she remembered now hearing that Carrick’s mother died several years earlier. “Thank you,” Analise told him and sat.

Whisky was poured for the men and sweet mead for her. The men drank and spoke of subjects she did not care about and, thankfully, they did not pay much attention to her. The respite was not only welcome, but gave her a chance to study the man she would marry.

Although cordial to her uncle, Carrick seemed to remain separate from the other men. She noticed when the laird spoke he never looked to his son, but spoke only to her uncle. Likewise, Carrick Gordon did the same, only speaking to her uncle.

“It’s a pity to see you ignored,” a second, deep voice spoke at her ear and Analise turned to sparkling green eyes. “I am Declan Gordon,” the handsome man held out his hand to take hers. “The younger brother.” He kissed the back of her hand and held it a bit too long before releasing it.

Carrick looked over at hearing his brother’s voice. They locked gazes; Carrick’s remaining flat, expressionless, while Declan let out a soft chuckle.

“I hope after your travels you don’t find yourself too weary.” Declan lowered to the chair next to hers and continued speaking. He was charming and set her at ease, pointing out people in attendance and telling anecdotes about each person. Before long, she relaxed while listening to the younger Gordon’s tales.

Every once in a while, she’d ask Carrick a question and try to draw him into the conversation. Other than a grunt or short reply, he resisted. Analise gave up and decided to enjoy his brother’s company instead.

“Is your brother always so sullen?” Analise studied her intended for a second before turning to Declan, who shrugged.

“I suppose, yes. He has his reasons.”

She wondered at the cryptic reply, but did not ask as the younger Gordon soon excused himself to sit at the guardsmen’s table.

Chapter Three

Morning came finally. After a fitful, sleepless night, Carrick ate without appetite. Everyone broke their fast in the great room, his father presiding over the clan like a king on a throne. Angus Gordon sat centered at the high board with Analise’s uncle and Declan to his right. Carrick and Analise sat on the opposite side.

The room was much quieter than the night before. Everyone seemed to sense the waves of anxiety coming from his intended. She’d been cordial enough the night before, even softening while in conversation with Declan, but now she seemed to have withdrawn back to the same scared woman who’d arrived the day before.

Her eyes flew around the room and, just like him, she only picked at her meal. Carrick could not find any words that would set her mind at ease, as he himself was suddenly struck with nerves at the thought of marrying.

Finally the meal ended. They moved to stand and Carrick assisted Analise down. Her hand was light on his arm, yet his full attention remained on the spot until she removed it.

Everyone progressed to the center of the room where Carrick’s father motioned for them to stand. The laird’s face was bright, his eyes darting between Carrick and Analise. Lips curving, he smirked and clapped his hands. “’Tis time. We will go to the chapel shortly,” his father announced and waved serving women over to pour ale into cups. “Fill everyone’s cups.”

Carrick fought not to walk out of the room, the entire charade distasteful.

The laird held up his cup. “Everyone, a toast to my son’s wedding.” Everyone held up filled cups with loud cheers.

Carrick accepted his and his intended’s beverages. She swallowed visible when he handed her a filled cup and failed when attempting at a smile, her lips trembling instead.

“Come, you should sit for a few minutes. Once the priest arrives, we will go to the chapel.” Carrick guided Analise to once again sit in one of several chairs next to the large hearth. When she was settled, he went to join her uncle, who remained waiting for whatever his father did to prolong the morning. Angus thoroughly enjoyed being the center of attention, especially with the new witnesses of the few McGregors that came as escorts.

No sooner had he joined the men than his brother moved away from the laird and went to Analise. His lips curved when noticing Carrick’s regard.

Analise listened to whatever Declan spoke, but her eyes constantly traveled about the room. Perhaps she sensed the need to get away from Declan, an intuition that he was a rogue. Or perhaps, she wished to escape to keep from marrying him. Carrick shouldn’t care which prompted her constant vigil, but he did.

Her uncle tapped his arm, his kind eyes lifted to him. “Take care of her, lad, she is a good woman. Doesn’t deserve this lot. Losing her husband and child at such a young age.”

Carrick once again studied Analise McGregor. He’d describe her as fetching with long, wavy hair the color of fall leaves and light eyes that reminded him of a misty sky. Her face was oval, a soft sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose. Her lips, well, he could only stand to glance upon them. A more enticing mouth he’d never seen. They were full lips that turned up at the corners and begged for a man’s kiss. At the direction of his thoughts, he scowled and she looked to him, their eyes locking.

“I didn’t know she lost a babe,” Carrick told her uncle while keeping his gaze on his soon to be wife. “How did it happen?”

“The shock I suppose. Upon learning of her husband’s death during the battle with the damn Mackenies two years past, she lost the babe days after.”

That explained the sadness in her eyes. “Why marry her to my clan so soon?”

“We need the alliance. She needs protection. A widow in our clan, especially one so young and attractive, will not be safe from the clansmen. We brought her to the keep, but even our laird cannot provide constant protection from the single guards’ attention. I had to find a way to protect her.”

“Why not marry her to someone in your clan?” Not that he wished her gone, he just wondered the true reason for her being sent away.

“She is a widow, lad. Only one younger clansman asked for her hand. He withdrew the offer when finding out how small a dowry she possessed. Her husband did not leave her much.” Her uncle shook his head. “Analise would have declined the offer. It was too soon after her husband and child’s death. Time passed and then she attracted the eye of our laird’s son, but not for marriage. So I had to act quickly.”

“I see.”

Not able to garner her full attention, Declan gave up and walked away leaving Analise alone. Although he should, Carrick didn’t feel ready to approach her. Not yet, his mind was full of questions. Why did she not seek out a man in her clan? With her beauty, it would not have been hard to garner a husband, small dowry or not.

Brave or a good actress, he had to admit he’d admired her lack of reaction to first meeting him. Even as she’d tracked his movements upon first seeing him, she’d managed to keep from showing any response at his disfigurement. But he’d seen it, the slight parting of her lips, the way she looked down his body in order to not focus on his scar.

“Carrick?” She’d neared without him noticing and placed her hand on his forearm. He tried not to react to the touch, but his treacherous body tensed and he inhaled sharply. “I believe it’s time.”

On the walk to the chapel, the trembling of her fingers on his arm was the only outward sign of any fear or hesitance. Analise kept her chin up, her eyes straight ahead. Carrick had to respect her tenacity. If nothing else, he’d found a strong woman in his betrothed. Hopefully, she’d be an agreeable match.

Nothing to be done about it either way, they were to be bound for life, and, with amazing bravery, she faced a future tied to a disfigured man. She must have sensed his regard because she turned to him, her clear eyes meeting his only for a split second. “Are you sure of this?”

“I gave my word.”

Her hand fell from his arm and she turned to him. “Of course you did. But being first born, you must have aspired to wedding someone of higher standing. You can always send me back.”

“Is that what you wish?” Carrick couldn’t bear to look at her and witness any distress because of his appearance, so, instead, he kept his gaze past her and waited. He would not send her back. It would mark her as unwanted. If he rejected her, the action would bring shame upon her and Clan McGregor.

“Honestly, right now, I don’t know what I wish,” she replied just above a whisper. Her candor surprised him.

“Come along, dear.” Her uncle came up from behind and prodded them forward. He rounded them to walk alongside the laird and gave Analise an understanding smile. “It’s your marriage ceremony. Time of good cheer.”

“Yes, Uncle.” They followed the elderly man, her hand once again on his arm, her eyes trained forward, a picture of serenity. If not for the rapid pulse at her creamy throat, he’d swear she was not affected by the proceedings.

When he covered her hand with his, her eyes flew to his and she blinked tears away. “Thank you.”

The ceremony commenced without haste, their hands bound together, words spoken over them that they repeated which was followed by cheers from the clansmen, who were, no doubt, more excited at the prospect of feasting, drink and music than the joining of their future laird and wife.

Chapter Four

How different from her first marriage when the anticipation fueled her nerves until she’d been almost faint with it. Her face had ached from smiling so broadly at marrying the man she’d loved since childhood. Her clan’s chapel had been replete with flowers and the cheers that rose loudly were accompanied by music. They’d been surrounded by people who’d actually cared and were as happy as she to see them joined.

This midday, the chapel was not decorated, but rather bare. Only a handful of people sat at the pews and only a lone guardsman joined her uncle at the front bench nearest where she stood.

Except for the stoic bridegroom, she’d have to admit this ceremony was not as distasteful as she expected.

Nonetheless, her stomach churned and threatened to bring up her breakfast when Carrick bent to kiss her. The feathery kiss lasted but a mere instant, she’d yet to close her eyes when he straightened. The amber eyes looked directly into hers as if in daring. What exactly did Carrick Gordon anticipate?

She met his gaze and held it.

Finally he looked away and led her from the chapel. The festivities began with pipers and jugglers entertaining the clanspeople who made their way, once again, into the great hall.

Several hours passed and she began to relax. She and Carrick mingled with the crowd. Her hand on his arm, he led her around and introduced her to clanspeople who seemed to genuinely like her new husband.

The air was filled with a mixture of jubilant music and excited voices.

Once seated, Analise clapped along with a merry melody for a few minutes enjoying the respite from the last years of living a cloistered and sad life.

Soon she’d be abed with her new husband. The consummation loomed, which could not be avoided as he was to be Laird Gordon. There could be no doubt they were husband and wife in every right.

Heat crept from her neck at the thought of intimacy with the stranger she’d only met the day before. Yet she wasn’t afraid of him. Analise had studied her husband over the hours since meeting him. Aloof as he was, Carrick took time to listen when the clanspeople spoke to him and even stopped several times to tussle a young one’s hair.

Moments later, she noted he gripped the arms of the chair, his gazed locked across the room. She touched his arm and leaned in to his ear. “Carrick, are you unwell?”

When he faced her, she saw a dark rage in his eyes and felt her own eyes widen. “No, I am not unwell. I am perfectly well.”

Analise sat back in her chair and followed his line of vision to where his brother stood. The younger Gordon spoke with a serving girl who looked nervous at the attention, her reddened face turning away often. Carrick took her attention from the couple. “Are you in need of refreshment?” He stood to his full height, dwarfing the other men in the room.

“Err…no, thank you.” She watched him cross the room to where his brother now held the maid by the arm. Analise wondered if, perhaps, Carrick was jealous. Was there something between him and the young girl?

The brothers faced off, both leaning at the waist, fists at their sides. Unfortunately, the revelers obscured them and Analise fought the urge to jump to her feet to see what happened next. Finally, when the people shifted and she had a clear view, only Declan remained. Carrick and the young girl had gone.

It was best she find out what happened. If her new husband planned to frolic with a maid on their wedding night, she wouldn’t stand for it. At the very least, Carrick would not get away without knowing her opinion on the subject. Of all the nerve.

She lifted her skirts and, in a flurry, crossed the room and exited the doorway onto a balcony just beyond where the three people she’d watched stood a few moments earlier. It was not hard to find her husband.

The only person outside in a side garden was Carrick. He leaned over the railing, both hands on the wall, his head bent, eyes closed. He must have heard her soft footsteps. “Declan, please leave or I swear by the gods I will kill you.”

A wave of relief filled her at finding him alone, yet Analise wasn’t sure if she should return or let him know he was mistaken. Unable to stay away from someone hurting like he did, she neared. “It’s me. What happens?”

“You.” He said the word without inflection, leaving her to not understand the lack of emotion.

“I wondered if you’d left with…”

With a mirthless chuckle, he shook his head. “No, I will remain until tomorrow morning. Once we join as husband and wife, I will be free to take you with me to my home. The sooner I leave this place the better.”

“Your home!” Analise gasped not knowing what she’d expected. Certainly she did not know she’d be going elsewhere. Was he taking her further away from her people? “You mean we are not to live here with your clan? Are you not to be the next laird?”

“I do not live here. I will return only upon the current laird’s death.” She noted he did not refer to the laird as “Father”. It was very apparent that something had happened between Carrick and his family. She wasn’t sure if he was at fault or not, but it was something she planned to find out.

He took her hand and placed it onto the crook of his arm. “Now, my lady, should we make a final appearance before seeking our bed?”.

“Yes, of course.” Her voice trembled. “But first…”

He watched her in silence waiting to see what she’d ask.

“What happened with your brother moments ago?”

Her new husband’s gaze fell to the floor before he let out a breath and lifted his gaze to her. “My brother is a rake. I could care less, but the young maid he accosted earlier has been placed in our care after her grandmother died.” Carrick shook his head. “Declan does things just to do them. He rarely thinks them through.”

“I’m making sure she is assigned a new post out of his sights.”

Chapter Five

There was no doubt in Analise’s mind. Carrick Gordon did not wish to be married to her. The stern man was not happy to be tied to a woman who brought little more than an alliance with a weaker clan and a tiny cache of gold.

She didn’t blame him, actually. Instead, she pitied him. A strong, handsome man like Carrick deserved to dream of a future with a beautiful wife who would bring honor to his position. Someone he could be proud of. Not someone like her. A widow who’d spent more time in mourning than enjoying life the last two years.

Once they bedded and consummated the marriage, she’d give him leave to do as he pleased. He could keep her in the remote home of his and return to the Gordon Keep to await his birthright.

If at least her new husband was happy then she’d done something right. Her life would be agreeable, of that she was sure. After all, she’d keep busy managing his home and could spend her days learning a craft, perhaps soap making…or basket weaving. The thoughts of crafting made her shiver in distaste. Sewing clothing, surely it would be acceptable for a laird’s wife to sew.

Her eyes began to droop from exhaustion. The last two days of travel and wedding activity were now taking their toll.

However, when Carrick guided her from the room, she was instantly awake. Would there be witnesses to their union? She was not a virgin. Surely, the clan did not expect to send onlookers into the room with them? Footsteps followed and she lifted to her toes to look past Carrick’s shoulder. “Are they coming?”

“Aye,” he replied, his voice flat. “I am to be the next laird. Every aspect of this marriage must be fulfilled according to our laws.”

“Oh.” She took a fortifying breath and nodded. “I didn’t expect it, but you are correct.”

The door swung open and women waited for her inside. Whoever they were, they seemed pleasant. She didn’t try to learn their names as nerves got the best of her and, once again, she hoped not to become sick. An older woman neared with shoulders rounded and eyes downward and began to loosen Analise’s hair. “I am Gritzel, the laird’s wife.”

It seemed like only moments later, she was undressed and hair brushed.

Gritzel’s dull eyes met hers in the looking glass. “Carrick is a good man. He will treat you with care. The gods have been kind to you.” She moved aside when a maid brought a light chemise and pulled it over Analise’s head.

“They come!” a different maid cried out grabbing at Analise’s arms and rushing her to the bed. “You must be prepared milady.”

The door burst open and men rushed in, pushing Carrick in front of them. By his frown and solid footing, he’d not drank as much as the men who now crowded about, their eyes shifting between the bed and the bridegroom who kicked off his boots and pulled his tunic off over his head. Analise lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. As mortifying as this rite of passage was, it was necessary.

The bed dipped and she bit her bottom lip, her eyes flying open. Not daring to watch the prying eyes of the people in the room, she instead focused on her husband’s face. With purpose and not wasting time preparing her for him, he pulled her to the edge of the bed on the side away from the doorway. He slid her legs apart, pushed up her nightdress and took himself in hand. Analise gasped, not sure what to do to prepare for what she was sure would be an uncomfortable encounter. She attempted to relax, but then the shuffling of feet made her tense again.

Carrick’s eyes fell to her core, his attention making her squirm with embarrassment. “I will try not to hurt you.”

It was then she looked down to notice the size of his shaft. He was more than well endowed. The long member jutted out from him, easily longer than his palm. From how he wrapped his fingers around it, he was also quite thick.

Analise wanted to tell him to do something to make it easier but, at the same time, she wished for everyone to be gone from there. He nudged her entrance with the head of his thickness then grabbed her by the hips and thrust into her to the hilt.

She let out a groan. It was uncomfortable, his thickness filling her so that she could scarcely breathe.

Everyone in the room let out an audible breath and began to clap as Carrick slid out and back into her, his face impassive, eyes focused on her.

He pulled out and stood straight, not at all abashed at the display of arousal. “Go on now. I wish to finish making love to my wife in private.”

At his growl of displeasure when they did not move fast enough, the crowd dispersed, some already talking of seeking more ale.

“You don’t have to finish if you don’t want,” Analise pushed up to lie fully on the bed. “I understand.”

“We will finish this. I will plant my seed in you and hope for an heir.” He yanked his breeches all the way off. It was only then she noticed he’d kept them on, just lowered them enough to free himself. “Take your clothing off woman if you do not wish to have them torn from you.”

Carrick did not want to scare his wife, but he’d not allow her to push him away either. If he was to be tied to the beauty, she’d be his wife in every sense of the word.

He didn’t wait for her to finish pulling the nightdress over her head, but yanked it from her outstretched arms. She gasped, her eyes moving down his body to between his legs.

“I’ll make it more comfortable for you this time.”

Analise nodded and remained sitting on the bed. He liked that she did not pull the coverings over her nudity but, instead, sat atop in full display. She was built for lovemaking. Full, rounded breasts atop a softly curved stomach and cinched waist that flared out to rounded hips. Her legs were well shaped, her feet small. He knew his lingering gaze affected Analise by her rapid breathing.

The lifting and falling of her chest grabbed his attention and he leaned across the bed and took a pink tip into his mouth, suckling it hard.

Her response was a throaty moan, her fingers raking into his hair urging him to remain. Instead, he licked the morsel and trailed his tongue across her skin to the other one and repeated the actions again and again until she lay back on the bed gasping for air, her hips lifting up from the bed in an open invitation.

The heated moisture of her center greeted his fingers as he slid them between the folds. “I want more,” Analise urged him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

He hovered over her and when she opened her mouth to speak, he covered it with his. Shivers crawled over him when she kept her lips parted waiting for the invasion of his tongue and once he pushed in, she sucked at it with greed, until she cried out from his ministrations between her legs.

“Now I will take you properly.” Carrick rolled on top of her and guided himself into her now pliant body. She moaned when he nudged at her entrance and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He pushed into her, almost coming instantly when she constricted around him. Each movement out and back in was drawn out by the fear of finishing too fast. Yes, it had been long since he’d bedded a wench, but this woman brought his body to full alert.

She acted as if she wanted him, as if she found him desirable.

His movements turned frantic now, as he could no longer control what his body did. Basic nature took complete control ensuring the completion of what was started.

Straining his body begged for release, but he refused until she was fully sated. Her short nails dug into his shoulders as she lost her own battle and shuddered.

It was then he finally let go.

Chapter Six

Birds chirping woke Analise and she stretched, enjoying the tenderness of her body. It turned out that her husband enjoyed lovemaking and had more than opened up to her once they were alone.

With his body that was. He’d not spoken a word to her other than incoherent mumblings during their mating. They’d made love twice after the people were gone, neither seeming to get enough of the other.

Greedy for him, she’d teased him into another round of lovemaking just as the sun surfaced.

Analise wasn’t sure how to proceed after finding herself alone in the bedchamber. She noticed her clothing had already been brought to the room, a fresh dress laid out for her use. On the top of the dresser, more of her personal effects were displayed.

There was nothing anywhere that belonged to Carrick. Obviously, this was not his room. Would he not be sharing the bed with her nightly? Obviously he’d liked bedsport with her.

She shook her head. No use in becoming romantic about what happened between them. All men enjoyed the act, rarely cared who the partner was as long as she allowed it.

Just because she’d thoroughly enjoyed what transpired with her new husband did not mean it was reason enough for her to change her plans. She’d speak to Carrick about sending her to his other home alone. Free him to enjoy his time until he became laird.

However, now she didn’t want to leave without him.

Troubled at the turn of events, she rose and proceeded to go through the morning ablutions and got dressed.

The hallway was quiet and she made her way with quick steps to the great room. Her stomach grumbled, as she’d not eaten much the night before. Perhaps she’d find Carrick and ask him about their living arrangements. She’d present him with the idea of her living at his country home and Carrick remaining at the Gordon Keep. This was not a love match and it was more than obvious he preferred not to be married. Analise was sure he’d be relieved once she presented her plan to him.

Silence greeted her upon entering the space. Seated upon the high board were the laird and the meek woman she now recognized as his wife. Beside the Laird sat Declan, Carrick’s brother. Carrick was nowhere in the room and Analise hesitated, not sure where to sit.

Gritzel lifted her hand, her eyes sliding to the laird. “Come sit with me.”

Analise released a breath and lifted the hem of her skirt so she could walk with ease to the high board. She sat next to the woman who motioned for maids to serve Analise.

The laird narrowed his eyes. “Carrick has not been here, probably broke his fast in the kitchens. Doesn’t want to remain in the great room and ruin our appetites, I suppose.”

Not understanding his meaning, Analise nodded and looked to Gritzel. The woman did not comment, instead continued eating, head down.

The clanspeople watched Analise with ill-concealed interest, their curiosity making her nervous. Thankfully, she was too hungry to allow the awkwardness of the moment to stop her from eating.

“Where can I find my husband?” she asked Gritzel between bites. “Do you know where he went?”

“No, I do not.” The woman’s quick reply came across abrupt. “You should not concern yourself with the goings on of men.”

“It is important I speak to him,” Analise insisted, not liking the way the laird leaned over his wife to scowl at her.

“Carrick will return and when he does, you can speak to him. Until then, remain in your place.” Spittle and bits of food flew from his mouth and she couldn’t help but lean away.

“As you wish, Laird,” she replied in a forced, low voice.

Declan remained silent, ignoring them. He seemed ill, holding his head while shoveling food into his mouth. Too much ale, she presumed.

Once the meal ended, Analise left the room. At a loss of what to do, she went through a side door to a small garden. The day was warm already, it would be a beautiful day. Over a short wall, there was a field. Lush grass with flowers sprinkled here and there invited for picnics and such.

Groups of men trained and others meandered about doing whatever daily chores they had to do. The air was fresh and she held her face up to the sun.

“What are you doing out here?” A clansman she didn’t recognize stormed toward her, a maid shuffling behind him. “You are not allowed outside unaccompanied. Do you wish to be harmed and start a clan war?” The man reached out for her, his fingers wrapped around her upper arm like a vise. Analise cried out and tried to tug her arm out of his grasp.

“Release me. You are hurting me.”

He squeezed tighter and yanked her forward. “Be quiet and don’t call attention. Women are not to raise their voice.” His lips curved into a cruel, mocking grin. “Tell me, did your husband take you well last night, lass?”

“Please…” Analise gasped at the pain. “I will return inside.”

The man let her go. She swayed from the sudden release. He moved away, his eyes no longer on her, but past her. Analise took a step toward the entrance only to stop upon hearing Carrick’s voice. “Stay where you are, wife.”

His dark eyes latched to where she rubbed her arm for only a split second before he attacked the man. Analise screamed at the crunching sound of her husband’s fist against the man’s jaw. The men grappled, falling to the ground exchanging blows.

Carrick yanked his opponent to his feet first and shoved him back.

The man glared at him. “You need to keep a better watch on your woman. At least explain the clan rules.” He then slid a scowl at Analise and spit blood on the ground before storming away hands clenched at his sides.

Carrick stood, his breathing hard, but didn’t touch her. “You are to remain inside when we stay at Gordon Keep. It is not safe for you to wander about alone.”

A quick scan assured the high, thick walls remained. “I don’t understand, this keep seems impenetrable. How could you expect me to believe there is danger within?”

“The drawbridge remains down most days.” He looked in the direction the man had gone. “Danger is not always from outside the clan. I am to be the next laird. As my wife, you can be used as a tool to hold power over me.”

Analise opened her mouth, but decided it was best to not point out that, in all probability, he would not come after her if she were taken. Just a fact, after all, they did not know each other or have any type of bond. She cleared her throat. “I apologize for troubling you with my actions. I wasn’t aware.”

He moved closer. Analise kept her gaze at the opening of his tunic, the tan skin reminding her of having pressed her lips to that specific spot the night before. “It is not your fault, but mine for not having warned you. In three days, we leave for my home. It is called Moriag. There, you are free to roam the gardens without restraint.”

“About that. I was searching you out in hopes of speaking about our plans.”

His eyes were light in the early afternoon sun, almost matching the amber in the sky at sunset. “What do you wish to speak of?”

Once again, she focused on his chest, not daring to look him straight in the eye in case he became angry and was as temperamental as his father.

“I—I propose you send me forth with an escort. To your other house. You do not have to remain by my side. You could remain here and do as you wish.”

At the silence that stretched for several minutes, she was forced to look up. His jaw was clenched, his nostrils flared. Flat eyes finally met hers. “If you wish to remain apart from me, I will allow it.”

Her relief was short-lived when he spoke again. “You may remain here. I, however, plan to return to Moriag.”

“No.” Analise reached forward and clutched his tensed forearm. “I do not wish to remain here without you.”

“Your choice.” He shrugged and turned toward the door. Her hand fell from his arm.

“Come, I will find you a personal maid to help you find something to do while you await our departure. She will also move with us to Moriag.”

Carrick gaze met hers for a moment. The distant look in his eyes confirming he cared not at all what her decision was. “If you change your mind and decide to remain here, then she will remain with you.”

Chapter Seven

Carrick had wanted nothing more than to leave for Moriag immediately. However, they’d remained several days giving his men time to train with the clansmen and begin to form a bond for when he came back to take over as laird.

It would not do for the men to be total strangers when they’d be forced to fight side-by-side.

He shifted to a more comfortable position in his bed. Heaviness like that of a boulder crushed his chest. It angered him to have allowed Analise’s request to affect him. How foolish to have hoped that after her responses to his lovemaking, after calling out his name, she would want to be beside him as his wife.

How absolutely stupid he was.

Thankfully the day of departure finally arrived. They’d leave the next morning as soon as the sun rose. He needed to sleep, to rest in preparation for the two-day ride to Moriag but his mind refused to settle.

He rolled to his side and closed his eyes only for a picture of Analise to appear.

However, no matter how much he tossed and attempted to find a comfortable position, slumber was elusive. The entire time his thoughts were on the woman in the adjoining room.

He’d not shared the bed with her again in the last three days, not physically. Mentally, he’d visited many times.

Her skin was the softest he’d ever run his palms over, her breasts full and supple. The way her small waist flared out to rounded hips and plump buttocks made him harden just remembering.

How he wished he could trace them once again. Run his tongue between the creamy thighs of hers.

Carrick groaned at his arousal, his shaft throbbed in a silent but resilient request for release.

A soft sound got his attention. The adjoining door cracked open and he bit back a curse. What did she want now?

This was the most inconvenient time. Analise’s eyes peered from the side of the door. “Are you awake?”

Carrick pushed to sit up, pulling furs across his hips to cover his aroused state. “Aye.”

She hesitated. “May I enter?”

“Aye. I would rise, but I am without clothing.”

Her eyes skimmed over the expanse of his chest causing him concentrate on a tapestry on the wall past her to keep from jutting his hips upward.

His wife moved closer, standing beside the bed, her hands clasped together. “I wondered if I could share your bed. I find I am nervous tonight and cannot sleep.”

Her request surprised Carrick and left him momentarily without words. This was not the time to allow her any power over him. “You may lie in my bed, but I may not be able to keep from taking you.”

Blue eyes snapped to his. “I understand.” She moved to the other side of his bed and removed her nightdress then slipped in between the covers and turned to her side facing him.

For a few moments, Carrick was not sure how to proceed. The woman intrigued him. Her thoughts and motivations did not make sense. Just days earlier she asked to live separate from him and this night she asked to share his bed. He almost smiled when he lowered to his back and she immediately snuggled against him and released a sigh.

“Do you miss your late husband?” He cringed, not sure why he’d asked the question.

He felt her nod against his chest. “Aye, it’s been almost two summers since his passing but I miss this. Having someone to speak with in the darkness. A firm body beside mine.” She gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep by speaking so freely.”

“I asked you.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

She sighed, her arm draped across his waist. “I wish things did not have to be so complicated.”

When he stiffened, she attempted to move away, but he held her fast. “Get some sleep Analise. We have a long two days ahead.”

He was surprised when his own eyes began to droop immediately. At the same time he was grateful, hopefully it meant his body would relax as well.

Chapter Eight

Weariness fell over her like a heavy cape and Analise almost wept with relief when they stopped to make camp. It had been a long day of riding.

A curse escaped her once again at being too proud to ride in the wagon. Now, after an entire day astride, her bottom throbbed mercilessly.

Carrick seemed to understand her hesitance to dismount and came to assist her down. Without expression, he held her upright, his strong arms around her waist until her legs stopped wobbling.

Once he had ascertained she’d not fall over, he motioned to her maid while keeping a hand under Analise’s elbow.

“Go with her to the river’s edge. Ensure she doesn’t fall.” He waited, his gaze scanning the area.

The maid, Erin, about five years older than Analise, hurried to her side. Unlike her, Erin was sure-footed since she’d ridden in the back of the wagon.

Analise kept from looking to see where Carrick went. He’d not spoken to her since they’d left the keep.

After breaking their fast and brief farewells to only Declan and Gritzel, he’d guided his steed to the front of the small procession, leaving her to ride behind him with two of his men flanking her.

“Here we are, milady.” The maid pulled her toward the water. “Would you like to wash your face and hands?”

“What I need is to soak. I fear I will never sit again.” Analise moaned when she bent to cup clear water with both hands. “Whatever shall I do? I can barely walk.”

Erin frowned. “Let’s pull off your skirts and do just that. There is plenty of privacy here.”

Once she undressed to just her chemise, she allowed Erin to assist her back down the slight slope until waist deep. Although the chilled water made her shiver, it soothed her sore muscles perfectly.

When they returned, a large fire was lit and several tents had been erected. Analise neared one and peered inside. Many pallets were made for sleeping. Just as she neared a second one, Carrick came out of it. His eyes darted to her and then toward the fire.

It was more than obvious he didn’t want to be near her when he took a step back.

She wanted to understand him, know what he thought, but she didn’t dare ask. Her chest tightened at his rejection and she hoped the feeling would abate over time.

“I made a pallet for you in here.” He pointed into the tent. “You must be tired. I will have someone bring you food.” Carrick walked past her toward where his men stood around the fire.

“Should we go and join them?” Analise asked her maid who shook her head.

“No, milady, it’s best you remain away.”

With one last, longing look at the fire she went into the tent. It would have been nice to warm her chilled bones in the fire’s heat.

Almost immediately, a young lad entered with food for her and Erin. They ate while sitting on her bedroll. Before she finished eating, her eyes began to close. Carrick was right, she was quite tired.

The next day, Analise was smarter and rode in the wagon with Erin. She asked her maid questions about Carrick. Unfortunately, Erin was new to the Gordon Keep and had not a chance to learn much about the laird’s eldest son. She did know, however, that Carrick was well regarded by the servants, unlike the laird who was a cruel man.

The day was almost over when the maid shook Analise awake. “We arrive, milady. There’s Moriag.”

Analise scrambled to the side of the wagon and pushed away the coverings.

Before a backdrop of mountains, mist, and lush forest, stood Moriag. The gray, stone dwelling, although much smaller than Gordon Keep, remained imposing. Tall turrets jutted toward the sky. But here, there were no walls or any type of barriers. “Why does he live without protection?” Analise questioned the maid.

“I was told by one of the men the nearest town is a day’s ride away. Although we are on the edge of Gordon lands, the surrounding areas are not claimed by any clan.” She pointed away from Carrick’s home. “Over there is another large parcel of land. It belongs to a McNeil.”

They traveled along over long, short-walled bridge toward the front of Carrick’s house. Analise, once again, pulled skins that kept the back of the wagon covered aside and peered over the side to take in the surrounding grounds. There were only a handful of people present.

Two of the accompanying clansmen entered the small courtyard first, followed by Carrick and the wagon and lastly four additional men.

Once they dismounted and the horses and wagon taken away, Analise waited for Carrick.

She stood by the wagon, her throat dry and hands trembling, not sure what to do or where to go.

Carrick came alongside her and took her arm, guiding her to where the small staff of five stood side-by-side waiting to meet her.

Each either bowed or curtsied when she was before them, except for a curvy maid. The woman narrowed her eyes at Analise and remained stock-still.

She’d seen this type of proprietary look before and didn’t allow it to affect her. Analise lifted her chin and waited for introductions.

Her husband introduced her to the cook, the chambermaid, two lads who helped around the house and lastly, Lisbeth, who, in addition to keeping the home, must have kept Carrick’s bed warm by her heated regard of him.

Plump and tall with large breasts, the woman held very few charms. Her mouth remained twisted as if she’d smelled something rotting which, for some reason, made Analise want to giggle.

They entered the great room and Analise was astonished at the lack of housekeeping. The room was musty and dark. The rushes were old and several chickens pecked through them for food, their droppings evident everywhere. She took a deep breath and regretted it.

Carrick’s gaze slid to Lisbeth before meeting hers. “I’m sorry. I gave clear instructions for the house to be prepared for you. I will deal with this.”

“No.” Analise placed her hand on his forearm and leaned toward his ear. “I ask that, as your wife, you allow me to oversee the tasks inside the home.”

His gaze on Lisbeth, Carrick nodded and guided her to a staircase whereupon he hesitated and turned to the chambermaid. “I hope my chambers are in good condition.” The threat was left unsaid, but the young maid heard it clearly. She wrung her hands together blushing. “Aye ’tis, milord.”

Two days later, Analise woke once again to an empty bed. At least Carrick slept with her, but he’d not made any effort to touch her.

No matter, she knew he’d not wanted the marriage. It was out of duty to his clan that he’d married her. Admittedly she missed his touches and wished for a husband that cared for her, desired her. But nothing could be done about it. With a sigh and not looking forward to what had to be done this day, she slid from the warmth of her bed.

She’d rested enough. Today, she planned to see if her orders had been followed. The two lads had been directed to sweep all the old rushes from the great room and to scrub the floors.

Today, she’d oversee the cleaning of the tables and chairs as well as the washing of the fireplace. She didn’t particularly care for the use of rushes, instead she preferred a floor to be swept and mopped regularly.

After dressing, she went downstairs to the kitchen. The red-faced cook blustered at her appearance. “Milady, I don’t understand why you insist on eating in here. Lord Carrick eats in the great room. So should you.” Thankfully, the cook kept the kitchen pristine, so she did not fear becoming ill from some sort of rotted portion.

Analise wrinkled her nose. “I don’t see how he can eat in there. It’s much more pleasant in here.”

With a pleased smile, the cook served her and continued her tasks while Analise ate. Lisbeth entered, her steps faltering at seeing her. “Milady, I did not…”

“Yes, I am aware, the lady of the house should eat in the great room. It seems you prefer my husband and me to eat amidst the chicken droppings and dirty rushes of the great room. Is that correct?”

The woman’s nostrils flared and her lips tightened in a straight line, but she was intelligent enough not to speak with disrespect. “I will see to the great room being cleaned.”

Analise took a sip from her cup. “There is no need. I’ve already ordered it. I hope the lads did as told, otherwise they will be replaced.” She cocked her head to the side and studied Lisbeth, who began to fidget. “Tell me, Lisbeth, what exactly are your duties?”

The cook cleared her throat loudly while Lisbeth’s eyes rounded. “I—I oversee the house, of course.”

“Hmm, by the condition of the house, the task is beyond your capabilities.” Analise waved her hand when Lisbeth opened her mouth to speak. “I am here now. The home is not large enough for two overseers. Your tasks will have to change.”

Lisbeth let out a huff and placed both fisted hands on her ample hips. “Carrick should be the one who decides. Not—not you.”

“Is that how you address my husband?” Analise kept her tone even.

The maid swallowed visibly. Instead of a reply, she turned on her heel and fled.

Analise let out a breath. Her hand trembled when she lifted her cup again. Why would Carrick keep the woman around, especially now that his wife was here? If he chose to keep a mistress, it would not be under the same roof as his wife. The sooner she dealt with the matter, the better.

She got up, no longer hungry. The cook turned from the side counter. “Milady, may I speak freely?”

With trepidation, Analise nodded. “Of course.”

“Lisbeth has been given too many liberties. Lord Carrick is a good master, but rarely gives a care about what goes on in the house. The woman is lazy and rarely lifts a finger to do anything around here. And Lisbeth…well she took advantage.”

“And took to his bed.”

At her statement the cook nodded. “Lord Carrick was lonely, especially during the long, winter months. He is a man like others with needs. I believe so, yes.”

Was he still lying with Lisbeth? Her chest constricted and Analise closed her eyes. The situation was beyond hurtful. His disregard for her feelings was insulting.

“Where is Lord Carrick now?”

Chapter Nine

Sweat trickled down his temples. A river of it dribbled down the center of his back as well. With a final heave, he and his men finally downed the tree. A smile split Carrick’s face at seeing the troublesome oak fall.

The men lifted their axes and began the job of chopping it in to smaller pieces. “Have care with the trunk. It will be used to make new tables, the other half for chairs.” He pulled a kerchief from around his neck to wipe away the perspiration.

It was time to replace the three tables in the great room. It wasn’t until he’d walked in with Analise and seen her reaction to the current furnishings that he realized how much in need of repair everything was.

Analise instructed the house lads to drag the tables outside to be cleaned. But even after much scrubbing, they remained in horrible shape.

Movement caught his eye. His breath caught at the sight. Analise walked from the front of the house. She held her skirts up with one hand with the other she shaded her eyes and scanned around. Did she look for him?

If only she’d not requested to live separately from him, he would have thought they had a chance at a closer relationship. But her words cut him deeply.

It was understandable, even expected, that she was repulsed by him and did not wish to be in the same household. He’d considered having another bed made so that he could sleep in a different chamber, but then changed his mind. As long as she remained under the same roof, they would share a bed.

He’d yet to take her again. Not that he’d not been tempted. Especially in the middle of the night when she’d snuggled against him for warmth. He’d run his hands over her body while she slept, appreciating the dips and curves of her waist and hips. But he remained too angry with her to make love.

She spotted him and headed his way with purposeful strides. It was hard to see her expression as the wind blew loose tendrils of hair across her face.

Carrick put his ax aside and met her halfway. “You are out early, wife. Is there something you require?” He tried to keep his tone even.

Her bright eyes flashed at him. “Yes, there is.”

He took note that she blinked more than necessary, her posture rigid. Was she about to cry? “Would you like to sit?”

She looked around to the flat ground and it was then he realized there was nowhere to sit. “No, Carrick, I would not like to sit.” She took a calming breath. “But we can walk. I could use some fresh air.”

He waited until they walked a few yards away from the men who, after studying them just for a moment, continued their task.

“Is there a problem with the household?” He was glad to have something to discuss with his wife and have the opportunity to spend time with her. Hopefully, it wouldn’t turn out to be another request to live separately.

“I am not sure how to speak to you about the household. You have not given me clear instructions. Nor have you explained to me what you expect from me.” Her voice trembled. He could not tell if she was angry or sad. More than anything, he wanted to take her in his arms, but, of course, Carrick refrained.

Instead he walked alongside her, his hands behind his back. “As my wife, you are free to make whatever changes you see fit. I do not place any restrictions on your choices. The household decisions are yours to make. Anything to do with the staff, furnishings and food I trust you to handle.”

Analise stopped without warning and he took a step back to her. She looked up at him, her eyes lingering on his lips before moving. He cursed inwardly at his disfigurement.

How he wished the slight coloring of her cheeks came from interest and not disgust. “Carrick, does that include sending Lisbeth away?”

“Why would you want to send her away?” He wondered if Analise suspected that, in the past, he’d lain with the woman. It had been months since he’d done so, finding the woman expected more from him than their agreement to keeping it purely physical. Then again, it was obvious Analise had not liked Lisbeth on sight. Women had strong intuition.

“She doesn’t do anything. The house is in horrible shape and she seems to hold herself in the role of…er, I’m not sure what actually.”

“I see.” He didn’t, but wasn’t sure what else to say. “If you wish to send her away, it’s your decision.”

“You are not upset?” She leaned forward looking into his eyes. “Isn’t she more to you than just a servant?”

Was she trying to upset him? Carrick frowned. “If you mean to ask if Lisbeth is my lover, then ask.”

Her eyes widened at his blunt words. “Is she?”

“She was at one time, but I have not lain with her in a long time. Months. I understand why you’d want her to leave. I apologize. I should have sent her away before bringing you here. I will speak to her at once.” He sidestepped his wife, not sure if her mouth agape and shiny eyes expressed disappointment at his lack of emotion or not.

He entered the empty great room. The floors were scrubbed and white washed. There were no rushes on the floor and other than one small, clean table and chairs, the expanse remained without furnishings. Tapestries were pulled down from the windows allowing for fresh air. The lads, who currently scooped ashes from the fireplace, got to their feet at seeing him.

“Where is Lisbeth?”

One of the lads extended his skinny arm. “She just went downstairs, milord.”

He took the steps two at a time coming to the landing in a few seconds and went to Lisbeth’s door. At his knock, she opened the door, her lips curving. “Carrick. You come to me today? Please enter.” She moved from the doorway, clearly expecting him to walk inside.

He remained at the doorway. “You must go. I will give you enough money to help you settle in the village. My men will escort you once you have finished packing.”

“No!” Lisbeth threw herself against him, her fists pounding his chest. “That bitch is not worthy of you. You are mine. Do you not see it? How she holds herself above everyone.”

Carrick took her fists in his hands and held her still. “Stop. Of course Analise is above everyone. She is my wife. The laird’s wife. You were always aware I would marry and it would not be to you. That is why I have not been with you of late. It’s time.”

She sniffed and yanked her hands from his hold. “How often do you join with her Carrick? Because from what I see, you two are rarely in the same room. Does she touch or kiss your misshapen face? I bet not.”

Lisbeth turned on her heel. “I will be gone, but mark my words. You will wish for me back.”

“Do as I say. Be gone.” Carrick took a step back and turned away.

“Don’t do this,” Lisbeth wailed, but did not follow him. At least she was wise enough not to push her luck because, at the moment, he wanted to drag her outside.

Thankfully, there was no one in the bedchamber. He closed the door behind him and sunk into a chair. Lisbeth was right in some respects. Analise did not kiss him, nor did she come near him, except in her sleep. He did wish for something more from his marriage; love, acceptance and children.

But it seemed his wishes were not to come true.

Chapter Ten

One of the lads came running into the great room just as Carrick finished eating. “Milord, a messenger arrives.” Analise gave him a questioning look and he shrugged, not expecting anyone.

Just then, two of his father’s men wrapped in Gordon tartans entered the room. One moved closer and bowed at the waist. “Laird Carrick, your father is very ill. Your presence is required at Gordon Keep immediately.”

Carrick motioned for the messenger and the second man to sit and motioned one of the lads forward. “Tell the guardsmen to come immediately.”

The six warriors entered glancing at the messengers before standing in front of Carrick. One spoke. “Aye, milord?”

“We will head to Gordon lands at first light. My father is ill.”

The messengers waited for instructions “Eat and rest, we leave at first light.”

“Shall I will go with you?” Analise asked him, her eyes on the messengers. “I think it would be most appropriate in case anything is needed. I am well-versed in curing.”

Her request surprised him but he kept from showing any expression. “I would think you’d be glad to remain behind and away from me.”

Analise’s gasp made him wish to retract the words. “I will remain then.” Her bottom lip quivered and she pressed them together.

“Analise, I…” Carrick began, but she stood and looked down her nose at him.

“No, do not apologize. I will go to bed now. I find that I am suddenly very tired.”

Analise entered her chamber and threw the door shut behind her. She stormed to the window and looked over the expanse of the land toward the mountains. A tear escaped, trailing down her face and she did not bother to wipe it away.

Why did she insist on attempting to please him? Every time she tried, he said the most hurtful things. There was no doubt in her mind that once he became laird he’d leave her behind and move to Gordon Keep without her.

Just then, movement below caught her attention. Two men stood in the shadows speaking in low voices. They did not look familiar. It was probably the messenger and the other clansman. She leaned and attempted to get a closer look, but they moved further into the shadows making it impossible.

A deep voice reached her ears. “I don’t know why she goes to all this trouble. All she has to do is order him killed pay good coin. I would do it.”

The second man replied. “Aye, but this way she can control when and how it happens.”

Who did they refer to? Did a woman plan to hurt Carrick? Analise moved back from the window when the men circled back out and continued their walk.

She sighed. What could she do, there wasn’t much in the way of helping as Carrick saw her more as a nuisance than a wife. Erin entered, followed by the two lads carrying in a large wooden tub. “I thought you’d enjoy a bath tonight, milady.”

Ever thoughtful, the maid continued to briskly order the lads to bring buckets of water while she urged Analise to a stool and began to loosen her hair. The maid’s eyes met hers in the looking glass. “You seem sad, milady. Is there anything you wish to talk about?”

Analise did not take Erin’s request as too much liberty. As she was without friends, she’d confided more and more in the gentle Erin. “I am sad. It seems no matter how hard I try to please him, he finds me bothersome. I don’t believe he cares one way or the other what I do.”

“Oh, but Lord Carrick is not indifferent to you milady. I believe he does care. He watches you wherever you are in the same room. He is just not used to women and our sensibilities.”

“No, I think you are mistaken.”

Erin sighed. “It could be Laird Gordon is giving you time to become accustomed to the new home.”

“I am not a whimpering simpleton to be set aside and treated like glass. It is evident to me he doesn’t like me.”

“I say you wait for him to come to bed and speak to him, milady. In the darkness, sometimes it’s easier to speak without having to school one’s expressions.” She met Erin’s sensible face in the mirror and nodded.

Once her clothing and shift were removed, Analise lowered into the hot bath water and closed her eyes while Erin washed her hair. The heat soothed her rigid limbs.

“Will you speak to your husband tonight milady?”

“I will try, Erin. At the same time I won’t expect much.”

An hour later, Analise settled into the bed and, once again, straightened the blankets. Her eyes flew to the door when she heard heavy footsteps. Unlike other nights, the lamps still burned, bathing the room with soft lights. Carrick entered and looked to her. By the dampness of his hair, he too had bathed. But not in their shared chamber.

“Are you unwell?” His eyes scanned the room before leveling on her. “Why are you still awake?”

“I am waiting for you. Thought perhaps we could speak.”

The muscle at his jawline jumped and his shoulders lifted. “What do you wish to speak of?”

Damnation, she was doing it all wrong. Erin had said to speak in the darkness. Unfortunately, now she could see how much he didn’t wish to speak with her by his body language alone. “It is nothing serious really. I just hoped to convey that I wish to accompany you to see your father. To be of help.”

Carrick’s shoulders fell. He sat on the edge of the bed and began pulling his boots off. “If you want to come, then I have no objection. I will go ahead on horseback and not take any breaks. You and your maid can follow in the wagon.” He turned to face her, his breathtaking eyes locking to hers. “Is that all?”

If only she’d waited until they lay together in darkness. A heated response of her cheeks coloring made her unable to speak. Analise nodded, her eyes traveling from his face to his bare chest.

Moments later, he blew out the candles and slid into the bed to lie next to her. It cut like a knife into her chest when he took care to keep a distance between them. Analise reached to touch his arm. “Sleep well.”

“Aye. Ye as well.”

Soon, his soft snores gave her freedom to move closer to him. By the moonlight, she studied him. Her finger just above his skin, she traced along the scar that went from the corner of his right eye to his lip. What could have caused such a scar? Asleep, his features softened and he seemed much younger, almost carefree. A total contrast to the stern, quiet man. Was he always that way? Had he been different once?

She gave in and leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. A soft mumble made her jerk away. Thankfully, he’d not woken.

Two days later, Analise and Erin arrived at Gordon Keep. They were escorted into the courtyard. This time was so different. She now knew what to expect and prepared herself to greet her husband’s brother and stepmother.

She made her way into the great room and was immediately taken by the sheer size of it and the many people who mingled about. How different to her home it was. And yet, if the laird died, this would be where she and Carrick would live.

No one greeted her, so she directed the lads she’d brought along to take her trunks upstairs and went directly to the opposite stairwell to see about Carrick and his father.

She turned a sharp corner at the first landing and ran right into Declan. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. It’s quite dim in here, isn’t it?”

His shrewd eyes narrowed and looked her up and down. “I didn’t know you were coming. My brother didn’t say.”

When he didn’t move out of her path, she took a step back. “Where is Carrick?”

“So you are well then? I am surprised to find that you continue to be with him.”

“Why would I not?” No matter her relationship with Carrick, she didn’t wish to discuss it with Declan.

His lips curved up, but the smile did not change the narrowing of his eyes. “Why not, indeed. I suppose being the new laird’s wife has allure.” He reached for her face, his fingers tracing down the side. “You are much too beautiful to be tied to him. If things change, I may take you for myself.”

She knew her eyes widened, but she did not say anything. Instead, she pushed his hand away and looked past him. “Allow me to pass, please.”

“Of course. It’s the door at the end of the hall.” He gave her a short bow and went around her and down the stairs.

“What in heavens did he speak of?” Her heartbeat quickening, she went to the door and pushed it open. Carrick stood next to a window and didn’t turn to see who entered. The laird lay on the bed, his once ruddy complexion now pale. The ill man watched her enter but did not move to speak. Analise went to the edge of the bed and studied him, lifting his eyelids then pulled up his upper lip. She leaned over him and sniffed.

“What are you doing?” Carrick had moved next to the bed, his brows drawn together.

“Leave her be,” the laird’s words sounded weak. He would not live much longer if it continued.

“He is being poisoned,” Analise stated and went to the side table. She picked up the pitcher of water and poured it out the window. “Do not allow anyone but Erin to oversee his food and water.”

“How can you be so sure?” Carrick took her arm. “Why do you suspect poison?”

Analise moved back toward the laird, Carrick by her side. She pointed to the ill man’s mouth. “The purpling around his lips and eyes are clear signs of poisoning. Also his breath, it smells sweet. I’ve seen it before.”

Carrick leaned over the laird and sniffed. “Aye, ’tis true.”

The laird’s wide eyes looked to his son and then to her. His words were slurred. “Do not speak to anyone of this. No one outside this room. If I live, whoever is responsible will be dealt with.” Exhausted from talking, his eyes began to droop. “Post one of your men at my door. Someone you trust.” His head lulled to the side.

“Who would do this?” Carrick asked in a lowered voice.

Analise considered telling him what she’d overheard but, at the same time, what if she’d heard wrong. What would a woman have to gain from killing the laird? It was Carrick who would gain the lairdship.

She went toward the doorway. “I will find Erin and explain that we wish her to oversee the preparation of your father’s meals. Say that he’s requested her stew and that only she can cook it. As far as water and other liquids, the lads can bring those.”

Carrick nodded, his expression hard to read. “I thank ye.”

Chapter Eleven

Analise made her way down the corridor and a stairwell. Going past several doors, she became disoriented as she’d never been in this part of the house. Upon hearing voices, she went in the direction of where two people held a conversation.

“There is nothing they can do,” a woman hissed. “Distract them so I can go back in and see about administering more.”

“If you’re caught, I will not help you,” a male whispered back. “I say we give it a few days.”

“He may get better,” the woman said.

Analise stumbled back and ran back the way she came ensuring to not make any noise. Her breath came in rasps when she bolted back into the bedroom and Carrick’s eyebrows rose. She went to him and took his hand. “I can’t find my way to the kitchens.”

“I will go with you.”

“No. We must not leave him alone. You have to get someone to guard him every instant.”

Carrick, who remained by his father’s bed, scowled but nodded in response. Just then, the door opened and Gritzel, the laird’s wife, entered. “If you would like to rest, I will keep watch over my husband.” She lowered her eyes not meeting theirs. “He mostly sleeps now.”

Analise replied, “On the contrary, I came to help so you can rest. I will stay here tonight. Why don’t you go and lay down, you must be exhausted.”

Unable to form a response, Gritzel looked past her to where the laird slept and nodded. “Very well. But I will be here early in the morning to see about him.”

She lingered a few moments, never nearing the bed and finally moved to the doorway.

Analise took advantage of the opportunity. “I will go with you while Carrick remains. I must speak to Cook. You see, I am well-versed in curing and have some ideas of certain herbs that may help.”

She continued chatting as they made their way to the first level. All the while, Gritzel remained rigid, replying in noncommittal grunts and nods. They’d made it down a second corridor when Gritzel stopped and pushed Analise against the wall holding her by the shoulders.

The woman’s breath fanned across her face. “You do not understand, nor do you know what happens within this clan. Do not think you can just walk in and usurp me.” Gone was the meek woman from before.

Now Gritzel’s eyes darkened and her lips pinched giving her a mad appearance. “I am the laird’s wife. I will be the one to care for him, not you or Carrick.”

“And poison him all the while?” Analise shoved her away. “Is that why you are so adamant?”

Her eyes widened and the woman’s fingers clenched at her sides. “How dare you?”

“I dare because I know he is poisoned.” Analise bowed her head to feign difference. “If I offend you, milady, I apologize, but you should be made aware.”

Gritzel let out a breath. She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Analise. “I will inquire with Declan. Have the entire kitchen staff questioned.” With that, she lifted her skirts and went in the direction of the great room.

Analise considered if she should go back and speak to Carrick, but decided instead to go to the kitchens. Once there, she oversaw the preparation of three meals and followed the lads to the chambers on the second floor.

She helped the laird eat, but he only ate a few mouthfuls before retching. Once Erin cleaned him up, they fed him a bit more clear broth and, once again, he fell into an exhausted slumber.

“You should eat,” Erin said. She served Analise and Carrick. They ate at a small table next to the large window overseeing a private courtyard. Neither spoke, dining in silence while in thought.

Unable to remain at the table with her silent husband, she stood and went back to the bed. “I spoke to Gritzel and perhaps overstepped.” Analise placed a pillow behind the laird’s head.

“What happened?” Carrick neared, his eyes on his father who slept again.

“She confronted me and said she was to be the one to oversee your father’s meals. I then responded that I believed he was being poisoned.”

“Do not fret. She should be made aware.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “I thank you for all this.” Carrick motioned to his father’s bed.

His eyes lingered on her lips and she hoped he’d kiss her, but instead he stepped back. “You should rest. It’s been a long day for you.”

One of Carrick’s men arrived and stood inside the door to stand guard for the night. “Milord, you should rest as well.”

They walked side by side, Carrick guiding her to their chamber, and she was grateful as she was still not sure how to find it.

Once inside, she was delighted to find that Erin had ordered a bath for her. She stepped near and dipped her fingers into the fragrant water. It was still quite warm. “Would you like to join me?”

Carrick looked first to the tub then to her, his eyes traveling from her face down her body. “Aye, I would.” His simple words made her heartbeat quicken. She let out a breath of relief at not being rebuked, then it quickly turned into confusion as to what to do next.

Her husband neared and placed a hand on the small of her back to bring her closer. His lips covered hers and she fell against him with relief, her hand automatically sliding up and down his back. The muscles rippled under his skin when she slipped under his tunic to caress the expanse of his back.

Clothing puddled at their feet as one by one they discarded the obstacles between their bodies. Carrick lifted and placed her inside the tub then followed. The evidence of his arousal jutted long and hard. With both hands, he cupped her face and took her mouth once again. “I will bathe you.” His voice was hoarse and deep, sending tingles of anticipation through her. “Will you remain standing for me?”

“Yes.”

The water splashed over the sides when he lowered into the water. Carrick’s long lashes shielded his eyes and whatever he thought.

Her breath caught when he lifted his eyes. “Do not move.” Analise watched as his wet hands slid up her legs to in-between her thighs. He washed her with care. All the while, she trembled in anticipation of what could happen next.

Her knees wobbled when he splayed her open and leaned forward, his lips pressing kisses between her legs, his tongue delving between the folds of her sex.

“Carrick.” Her mutterings went on while his wicked tongue did things to her she’d never imagined.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she let out a cry and allowed her knees to collapse. Carrick pulled her against him and took her mouth with his as helped her lower and guided his hardness to between her legs.

Lost in the myriad of sensations, Analise clutched on to his shoulders allowing him to control the pace of their joining.

They moved together in frantic lovemaking until he thrust hard once more and found his release, his deep moans echoing in her ear.

After they finally controlled their breathing enough, they remained connected as he began to work the soap over her skin. She leaned against his chest, enjoying their closeness. The feel of his thick throat against her cheek brought her comfort, safety. When she was clean, he allowed her to wash his back and hair.

“Allow me.” Analise climbed out to gather the pitchers of clean water and poured it over Carrick to rinse him. Then she stood still while he did the same to her.

Wrapped in drying cloths, they sat by the fireplace. Ever thoughtful, Erin had left bread and some wine for them. While they ate, Analise racked her brain for something to say to him. She wanted to ask so many questions. Understand him. Know his thoughts.

“Carrick, why do you not live here?”

His noncommittal shrug made her want to shake him. Instead, she waited for him to speak.

“I am not like Father and Declan. I find I prefer a simpler life away from all this. You see, now my father is poisoned. The life of a laird can be perilous. Once one rises to power, people want your position.”

“I am sure there are good things about it.” Her eyes lingered on his wide chest as the towel slipped to land around his waist.

“Aye, if given the opportunity, there are many things I would like to change.”

Analise frowned. “Why would you not have the opportunity? You are the next in line as your father’s first born.”

“If whoever is attempting to kill my father doesn’t poison me first.” The corner of his mouth lifted at his words. It was almost as if he cared little for his own life.

“I hope not.” Analise started at a knock on the door.

Erin opened the door and looked to them. “Milord. Milady. I came to see about the bath being removed.”

“Of course,” Carrick replied, not seeming at all bothered by his nudity.

She, on the other hand, was not so bold and rushed to wrap a dressing gown around herself. The lads entered and went about emptying the tub and taking it out.

Once they were alone again, she found Carrick standing by the fireplace. He contemplated the flames with severe intensity.

She was no longer in the room with him, it was evident his thoughts were somewhere else. Analise went to the bed and slid under the covers.

Perhaps one day she’d understand her husband better. If she was blessed with a child, she yearned for closeness between them so their son or daughter would be raised in a loving and caring family.

The bed dipped under his weight and she turned to find him on his side toward her.

Analise reached for his face, to cup his jaw, but he angled it away so she’d not touch the scar. “I want to touch all of you. Kiss all of you.”

“Why?” Brows furrowed and his mouth in a straight line, he was genuinely curious. “You are already my wife. The wife of the future laird. You have nothing more to gain by doing something unpleasant.”

“What if I wish to gain your caring?” She sat up and glared down at him. “What if I want more?”

Carrick pulled her to him and rolled, covering her with his heavier body. “Be mine again.” His tongue pushed into her mouth at the same time he prodded at her entrance.

She reached between them and curled her fingers around his sex. When he bucked into her hand, she squeezed it and worked her hand from the tip to the base over and over. His hips moved in the opposite direction creating a rhythm that he found more suitable. His neck muscles stood out in contrast to the smooth surrounding skin as she continued to pleasure her husband.

“Let me inside you,” he grunted and held still when she guided him.

“Ah.” He slid into her and took her by the hips, lifting her bottom from the bed. “Come with me, Beauty.”

Carrick released any semblance of control, his body slamming against hers, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Analise threw her head back onto the bed, her hands cupping his butt as she tried to keep him seated deep within her.

His entire body glistened with the exertion of their lovemaking and yet he continued. Drove in and out of her until, once again, she cried out in release and then a second time. Finally, he could no longer continue and thrust into her to the hilt. His shoulders and thighs quivering, he spilled into her and collapsed.

Analise kissed his temples and caressed his back, waiting for his breathing to become normal.

Moments later, he lifted, his now flaccid member slipping from her.

“We will need to bathe again,” he mumbled and kissed her lips before rolling to his side and promptly fell asleep.

Chapter Twelve

Carrick didn’t know whom to trust. Who poisoned his father? Were Declan and Gritzel involved?

He thought back to the night before. Why had Analise said those words the night before? Did she really wish to gain his caring? He’d made love to her not just because he desired her like no other, but also to avoid the conversation. It would be too hard, false words would ruin the closeness he’d felt between them.

The great room was deserted except for the lads who cleaned up and a dog that ran around them in circles, its tail wagging. Carrick motioned for one of the lads to come near. Miles, the dark-haired lad who would soon be ten and three, neared. “Aye, milord?”

“Why are you two doing such chores here? This household has more than enough staff.”

Miles gave his brother a questioning look. “Me brother, he asked for this chore, milord. He says ’tis a good way to keep an eye on what happens. Ensure you and your lady wife are kept from harm.”

Nobody, it seemed, was at ease at Gordon Keep. “I thank both of ye then. Go and see about my horse and the lady’s as well. Do not overtax yourselves.”

“Aye, milord.” The boy bowed and returned to his job.

Declan entered and stopped short upon spotting him, his eyes darting about the room. “I was looking for you.” Lie. “I wondered if we could speak regarding your wife’s accusations.”

“Ah, so Gritzel told you?” Carrick motioned forward a serving wench who entered. “I would like to break my fast. My wife will be here shortly as well. Please inform Erin.” He met the lighter-haired lad’s gaze and the boy followed the wench to the kitchen.

Declan clapped and laughed. “You go to great measures to insult this household. One that I might remind you, will be yours when father dies.”

“I do not wish to insult the house, but it is the inhabitants I do not trust.” Carrick accepted a tankard brought back by the lad and drank from it. “I suggest you take caution as well, brother.”

“What I don’t understand,” Declan sat on a chair across from him, “is why you worry about Father. You hate him.”

“It is he who hates me.” Carrick exhaled, tired of the distance between him and his family. “He has always disliked me and I gave up attempting to understand why. It is of no importance now.”

Declan chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious? He loved our mother and you have the audacity to look exactly like her.” His brother shrugged. “But like you said, it is of little importance.”

He’d never considered the reason for his father’s hatred. It just was as far as he was concerned. The ever-growing ire for what seemed no apparent good reason.

Why would his resemblance to the woman his father loved garner him the man’s hatred? It made little sense, but then again, what did it matter?

“Why would Gritzel complain to you?” Carrick waited while the lad returned with his breakfast. “Are you confidants or more?”

Color rose from Declan’s neck to his face. He leaned forward with nostrils flared. “You hold yourself above reproach. The honorable Carrick Gordon. Future laird.” He stood and waved his arms. “Soon all of this will be yours. As the firstborn, whether rightfully or not, all of this is yours. So now you feel free to look down upon me for what I do to gain something?”

“You have known where you stand your entire life. I do not understand why you are so bitter now.” Carrick pushed his tankard toward the lad for refilling. “Yes, I will be laird and you, brother, will remain as my second if you wish. Unless I find you plan to kill me.” Carrick sat back in his chair channeling a nonchalance he didn’t feel.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be by now.” Declan stopped talking when Analise walked in. She kept her head straight and looked to Declan, who gave her a curt nod. “Lady Gordon. I hear you have come to some conclusions regarding Father.”

“I have,” Analise replied and lowered to the chair beside him. Carrick wondered how much she’d overheard. By her impassive expression it was hard to tell. “There is already a noted improvement in your father’s visage this morning. His face has color.”

Declan’s eyes widened, but he quickly gained his composure. “I will go see him then. Or will your guard keep me from entering?” He glared at Carrick who stood as well.

“I will go with you.” He looked to Analise. “I apologize for my retreat. But I need to see for myself how the laird fares.”

Her clear eyes met his and she gave him a soft nod. “Of course.”

They entered their father’s chambers and Carrick was astounded at the difference. Angus Gordon was propped up with pillows and being fed by Erin. His father’s eyes darted from Declan to him and he waved Erin away. “I must speak to you both in private.” He heaved a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhausted from the few words.

They approached and stood next to the bed. The laird kept his gaze lowered as if examining his words. “I am being poisoned. See that every morsel is watched over before being brought to me.” He closed his eyes once again, and then slowly opened them.

Carrick looked to Declan, who watched their father with keen interest. “It seems to be true. Analise had seen it before, she noticed the purpling of your lips and sweet smell of your breath.”

“Declan, send the entire kitchen staff away. Hire all new people.”

“Father,” Carrick interrupted, “what if the food or water was poisoned after it left the kitchen? You cannot get rid of everyone in the keep. I think it best to proceed by having someone trustworthy watch over the preparation of the food and drink.”

“And I see you deem your men and maids as those you consider trustworthy,” Declan said through clenched teeth. “How appropriate to take advantage of the situation to ascertain your position.”

“If I wanted the position of laird sooner, would I not have allowed things to progress as they have been? Why would I go through all this?” Carrick glared at Declan. He looked to his father. “Who do you suspect, Father?”

“My wife. I believe she has a lover who may be helping her.” It confirmed Carrick’s suspicions. The laird coughed and tightened his fingers on the linens.

Declan regarded him. “It can’t be. She isn’t brave enough.”

The laird cleared his throat and looked to Carrick. “In spite of my actions, you have grown to be a strong man. Be a good leader to this clan.” His voice became lower, barely a whisper. “Declan. Serve your brother.”

The laird’s head lolled to the side. Carrick rushed to feel his pulse. His father was dead.

“How can it be?” Carrick rushed to the hallway and sent the guard for Analise. “He looked so much better.”

Moments later, Analise rushed in, Erin right behind her. She went to the bed and inspected the dead man. “I should have known. It was too late, the poison was in his bloodstream and it was only a matter of time for it to reach his heart.”

A tear slid down her face and Carrick reached her just as she slumped against him. “I am so sorry.”

“It has been three weeks, Carrick. Surely it is time to hold hearings with the clanspeople. There is much to make decisions on.” Declan paced the study, his hands clasped behind his back. “I have offered to sit in for you and you refuse. Something must be done. There are many in the great room waiting to have their time with the laird.”

“Leave me be, Declan.” Carrick slammed his fist on the top of the large table. “I need time to go over everything. Where is Jules? Was he not Father’s advisor? Where has he gone?” Nothing made sense, Jules Donovan, his father’s advisor and accountant, was absent, the ledgers with him. Every account of debts to the lairdship—nonexistent. He knew Declan had something to do with the muddled affairs. His father had many shortcomings, but he kept a keen eye on clan affairs and accounts.

Carrick went to Declan, moving until they were almost nose-to-nose. Declan’s eyes shifted toward the doorway and he stepped back but could not move any further as he was against the wall. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “So you are going to the great room, resolve disputes between your people? Are you prepared for what needs to be done?”

“If you know anything, I suggest you tell me now, Declan.” Carrick closed the already small distance between them. “I am not going to be as easy to kill.”

“You are mad.” Declan pushed him back and went through the doorway. He then bent at the waist and swept an arm toward the great room, his face twisted with anger. “Your people await, my laird.”

Without a word, Carrick brushed past him to the room where people were crushed, filling the room to capacity. Those who did not have disputes were there out of curiosity. Anxious to know how the new laird would rule.

Carrick stood at the high board. Immediately, the room was quiet as a tomb.

One thing Declan was correct about was this. He had to face the people whether prepared or not.

Carrick cleared his throat and every set of eyes went to him. “Welcome to Gordon Keep. As your laird, I will strive to be fair, but do not mistake that for being soft. I will be swift with punishment when needed.” He motioned to the head of the guard. “Who is first?”

Two men shuffled forward. Each stood before Carrick. The first, who he recognized as a long-time farmer, held brown sprigs in his fist and spoke first. “Laird. This man,” he pointed to the other, who stood somewhat stooped, although younger, and kept his gaze away from the man accusing him. “His wife cursed my lands. A large portion of my crops withered before I was able to harvest. I demand justice.”

His eyebrows went up, but Carrick attempted to keep a neutral expression. He looked to the other man. “What say you?”

“My wife is a midwife, one who values life and cares for all living things.” He motioned to a woman who stood a few paces behind him, a cloth in her right hand and wiped at her eyes. “We have nothing to gain by killing his harvest. No reasons to wish him harm.”

“Not even my refusal of your son’s courtship of my daughter?” the farmer shouted.

Carrick held his hand up. “How much of your harvest was viable?”

“Half, sire,” the farmer stated and glared at the other man. “The side closer to his portion of the land is withered.”

“The portion that is lower and therefore receives more rain?” Carrick looked at the farmer. “We had more rain than usual and by the looks of what you hold, I would say the plantings rotted because of too much water.” He held out his hand. The farmer handed him the plantings and Carrick examined them. “Yes, I believe that is what happened. The same happened to my wheat. ’Tis a shame. I lost quite a bit as well.”

He then looked to the stooped man and his wife. “What are your son’s intentions toward the daughter?”

The woman lifted her head, her eyes bright. A mother defending her son. “He loves her, my laird. And she, he. They want to marry. But he…” she pointed at the farmer, “he refuses because my Amos has no portion of lands of his own. Not yet.”

“Is that true?” Carrick eyed the first farmer. “If I remember correctly, you have no sons. A son could help you farm more land and care for the harvest. With a son to oversee, you may have not lost half your crops.”

The farmer nodded his shoulders lowering. “Aye. You are correct, my laird. I did not consider that.”

“Allow the courtship.” Carrick motioned to the guard. “Who is next?”

Chapter Thirteen

Days later, Analise leaned back in her chair, forgotten mending on her lap. She studied the scene out the window. The sun was lowering in the sky, the day almost gone. Another day had passed without her seeing or talking to her husband.

As laird, he remained busy. Whether caring to the needs of those who came seeking court with him, or riding through the lands overseeing what needed to be done. When he was at the keep he trained with the warriors. Every night he came to their chambers exhausted. His man would help him undress and prepare for bed. Most nights he slept in the adjoining bedroom.

She missed their short time at Moriag. Although they were never close there, at least they slept in the same bed. Now her life revolved around managing the goings-on of the much larger household.

Gritzel kept to her rooms, still dressed in mourning clothes. She would rarely join them for meals. When she did, Analise could not help the feeling of unease. The woman could very well have been the one to poison the laird. To what end other than to stop his mistreatment of her, no one knew. If that was her reason, why did she behave so bitterly now? Her face drawn, shrewd eyes burrowing into Analise.

Something was amiss.

Analise decided to walk around to the other side of the second floor and see if any repairs or tidying was needed. She passed Carrick’s father’s chamber and pushed it open. The sounds of lovemaking caught her ear. She moved back, leaving a sliver of the door open so she could see who it was.

Broad shoulders slanting to a narrow waist hovered over someone. The hair, same color as Carrick’s. Her heart began to pound and she covered her mouth to muffle her gasp. The woman cried out. Gritzel.

Her foot caught as she stepped back and she stumbled, but managed to catch her balance. Analise ran as fast as she could toward her chamber. Thankfully, her soft slippers made no noise. Could it be? Why would Carrick share a bed with his father’s wife? She rushed to the chamber pot and became ill.

After rinsing her mouth, she sprinted from the room and down the stairs to the great room. People were beginning to enter for the evening meal. Once she ascertained Carrick was not present, she went to the courtyard. One of the lads came to her. “Is there something wrong, milady?”

“Where is the laird?” She scanned the courtyard not seeing him.

The lad pointed toward the far side. “I believe he is with the guard, milady. Would you like me to find him?”

“No, I will go find him myself.” She had to see with her own eyes that her husband was truly outdoors. Analise attempted to keep from rushing but, in the end, she hitched up her skirts and ran.

Carrick swung his sword up just as his opponent’s came down and held it in place as the man pushed against it. The men grunted with the strain. Her husband’s opponent caught sight of Analise and lifted his sword. “Milady.”

Her husband turned to her, his hair plastered to his face with perspiration. Analise had never been so glad to see him, but remained still not wanting to get any closer since some of the men continued sparring.

Carrick took a cloth that was held out by a lad and wiped his face. Then took a proffered cup and drank deeply, his eyes on her the entire time.

When he walked toward her, she took in the handsome man. Tall, broad-shouldered, his tanned skin telling of the many hours he spent outdoors. His hair was sun-streaked and longer, past his shoulders and tied back with a leather strap. Stormy, amber eyes left hers and went toward the keep. “Is something amiss, wife?”

“I must speak to you in private.” She lifted a hand to her hair and pushed the windblown tresses behind her ear.

He nodded. “Of course. Walk with me.”

They walked from the side of the keep through the gates to where an open field full of lush flora took her breath. Lavender grew as far as the eye could see and she could only smile at the sight. “How beautiful. I wish our chambers faced in this direction so I could admire this view daily.”

“Aye, it is beautiful.” He took her elbow and she yearned to lean into him and feel his strength against her. “Do you still wish to leave?”

Her eyes jerked to his. “Why would you ask me that?” Analise moved to stand before him. “I do not wish to be where you are not.”

Carrick blinked and his brows joined. “After you suggested it right after we married, I have been waiting for you to bring it up again.”

“I see.” Analise wasn’t sure if the pain in her chest was an ailment or the breaking of her heart. “In truth, I had not considered it.”

He looked up to the sky. “What did you wish to speak to me about then?”

“I saw Declan and Gritzel together. They are lovers.”

“That explains much. I have kept someone of trust overseeing the preparation of our meals because I do not trust that whoever poisoned Father would stop. Now I fear for my brother if he does not marry her. Which he won’t.”

“Do you think they killed him?” Analise whispered although they were alone.

“No. Declan would not go so far. He resents being second born, but only because he won’t have his own keep. Father made no concessions for him. But I believe Gritzel is capable.”

“What will you do?” Analise placed her hand on his arm noting he stilled, his eyes on hers.

“I will think on it.”

She let out a breath. Time for the truth. “Carrick, do you wish me to leave so you can have a lover of your preference? If you do, I will.”

“What?” He glowered. “No, I do not wish it. I am pleased at how you manage the household and it is reassuring to know you are in the adjoining chamber even if you never join me in bed.”

“I have been waiting for you to come to me.” She placed her palm on his jaw. “I have wanted you to.”

The color of his eyes went from light to dark. He seemed puzzled but then nodded. “I will come to you tonight then.” He lifted her other hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Then you are not sorry to have married a disfigured man?”

“Disfigured?” Analise was confused for a moment. “Oh, are you referring to the scar on the side of your face?”

After an incredulous look, her husband nodded. “Yes.” His voice was husky, unsure. “I am disfigured…ugly.”

“Carrick, if not for that scar, you would be too beautiful for words. How could you think yourself ugly? Do you not see how every woman you come across cannot tear her eyes from you? It is not the scar, but your beauty that commands so much attention.”

“I have never heard such words.”

She smiled when his face colored. Her handsome, breathtaking husband was, for the first time, embarrassed by praise.

Analise lifted her face to him and he kissed her. At the touch of his lips she let out a sigh. How she’d missed his kisses, his touches.

His hands circled her waist and pulled Analise closer, his lips next to her ear. “I am a fool. To think I almost sent you away. Not because I did not want you, but because I wanted you so much it has become unbearable. So many nights I went to your door only to turn away.”

A tear slid down her face. “And I thought you didn’t desire me because I had so little to offer a man who could have any woman of his choosing.” Analise sniffed. “I don’t want adjoining bedrooms, Carrick. I miss sharing the bed with you. We have both been such fools.”

“I agree.” His laughter rang clear and not able to keep from giggling at the nonsense of it all, she joined him.

“Now,” Analise looked back toward the keep. “I suggest after the meal, you bathe. While you do, I will direct the maids to move my clothing and other belongings to your much larger chamber.”

He took her by the waist and lifted her until she rested her hands on his shoulders. Then he turned in a circle. “This is a happy day. I just have one more thing to take care of and then you and I, we will rule over the clan in peace together.”

Analise took in the sight of the land surrounding the keep. “Yes, my love, we will.”

Carrick was drying off after his bath, his man stood beside him handing him cloths. There he remained, exquisitely and utterly nude, when she entered his chamber. Analise walked to the large wardrobe where her clothes were now placed. Unable to keep from looking at him, she glanced over her shoulder and noted his shaft twitched at her perusal.

The corner of Carrick’s lips twitched and he lifted an eyebrow. It turned out her husband was a consummate flirt. He wrapped a larger cloth around his waist when noticing Erin behind her.

Her cheeks warmed. She waited for Carrick’s man to leave and then for Erin to help her out of her gown. Her back to the room, the cooler temperature hit the skin of her back and made her shiver.

Heated lips pressed against the base of her neck and she gasped, turning her head to see Carrick now stood where Erin had been. He pushed the gown from her shoulders, past her waist to the floor, his arms circling her waist. He traced a trail with his tongue from her ear down to her throat.

Analise moaned and lifted her hands to run her fingers through his damp hair. “Make love to me, husband.”

“I have thought of little else since we spoke earlier.” He lifted her and carried her to the bed. He stood beside it and dropped the cloth from his waist.

How glorious he was. Fully male and every delectable inch hers to explore. Analise sat up and held her hand out. Carrick took it and came to the edge of the bed then climbed in and lay on his side. His eyes widened when Analise pushed him to his back and slid her hands down from his chest to his hips, her fingers sliding across the hard planes. “What are you doing?”

“Touching you. Every bit of you.” She continued her exploration, massaging his skin, pressing her lips on his chest, flicking her tongue across the stiff points. “Mmm.” He closed his eyes and kept his arms to his sides allowing her full access to his body.

Instinct took over and she covered him with her body using her mouth, teeth and lips to suckle, nip and lick different places. She learned where he was most sensitive by his grunts of pleasure and paid extra attention to those spots.

“I can’t take much more without losing my seed,” Carrick breathed heavily. He placed his hands on both sides of her face and drew her up to his hungry mouth. “Guide me to you.”

Close to release herself, already dripping wet with need of him, Analise could barely wait to join. She straddled his hips and lowered, taking him fully.

Both let out a moan of pleasure. Carrick took her hips again, lifting and then lowering her while thrusting upward, deep and hard.

Analise placed her hands on his chest and took over meeting his drives with her plummets, both moving faster and faster toward the goal that eluded, yet seemed so close. She watched as Carrick threw his head back, his full lips parted. Even in the midst of rapture he was breathtaking. Would she ever tire of looking upon him?

It became harder to breathe, every movement sending waves of pleasure until she shook all over. Finally the surroundings went black and she let go, falling into the abyss surrounded by Carrick’s hoarse cries of release.

Chapter Fourteen

The morning sun broke through to light the room. Carrick opened his eyes and let out a sigh. The weight of Analise’s leg thrown across his own and her arm about his waist was a perfect way to awaken. He’d dreamed of mornings such as these.

Her long, golden brown hair was a tangled mess that tumbled over his arm and down her back. A more fetching woman he’d never seen as the one now in his arms. He vowed then this would be how every morning would be until his last breath.

When she stirred, he held still hoping she’d not move away. Her beautiful, sky blue eyes lifted to him and her lips curved. “Oh good, I was afraid it may have been a beautiful dream.”

Carrick kissed her. “’Tis not a dream.”

She wiggled closer. “I am happy then.”

“Are you really?” Carrick could still not understand how it was possible that she found him desirable. After so many years of hearing from his father and others how everyone found him an appalling sight, it would take a long time to believe it was not so.

“I am.” Analise kissed his chest. “God has gifted me with a second husband, a terribly handsome one at that, and another chance at a family.”

“Aye, we will have young. And your destiny as the Lady of Gordon Keep will be fulfilled. Everything will be as it should.”

She furrowed her brow. “There is one more thing I wish for.”

“What do you wish for, wife? Tell me and I will ensure you have it.” Carrick could not fathom what she’d ask.

“I wish for your heart.” Her face flushed a pretty pink shade. “I wish for your love, Carrick. If it were to happen then all will be perfect.”

“Consider it done.” He laughed when she huffed and hit him in the chest. “Truly, I already love you, Analise. I love you for seeing past my scar. And for standing by me and accepting all that I am without ever giving up on me.”

“How did you get that scar?”

“My father cut my face while we sparred when I was about ten years of age. Mother became very angry with him when I ran to her screaming in pain. I remember they fought bitterly.” He placed his arm under his head and looked to the ceiling while remembering the day.

Analise kissed his jawline, her hand stroking over the opposite cheek. “I don’t understand why he mistreated you so.”

“I don’t know, perhaps I never will. I reminded him of my mother. She never loved him, yet doted on me. It could be that is why he never cared for me.”

“In the end, I believe he realized the mistake he made in his treatment of you.”

Carrick shrugged. “It is his burden to carry to the afterlife.”

“You are a good man, Carrick Gordon. I love you.”

Carrick’s stomach clenched at her words. “Do you mean it?”

“Aye, I do.” Analise cupped his face placing her palms on his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his parted lips. “I have since the day I saw you in the courtyard. I could not believe you were the man I’d marry. It thought it was a cruel joke. It had to be because you were too good to be true.”

“I thought that perhaps you were planning an escape by the way you scanned the surroundings.”

“I was.”

“I am glad you were not successful.”

“As am I.”

“Sire. Do you wish help dressing?” Carrick’s man entered and stood with his back to them.

“No thank you, Liam. I will dress myself and be down shortly. Please tell Declan and Gritzel I wish to speak to them after I break my fast.”

His brother and Gritzel followed Carrick to the study.

Carrick didn’t sit, not wanting to be lower than the two people he did not trust. Analise sat in a chair just in front of the large hearth, the cheery fire filling the room with both warmth and shadows and he went to stand beside it. Without preamble he spoke. “I know you are lovers.”

Gritzel’s wide eyes flew to Declan who remained without expression. His brother exhaled, but did not speak. Did not deny it.

Carrick looked to the woman. “I believe you were the one who poisoned my father. But since I cannot prove it, I will allow you to live. I demand you leave my home immediately.”

Although her eyes shifted just enough to give a glimpse of her guilt, the woman lifted her chin and looked down her nose toward Carrick. “I did not kill him. He died from too much drink.”

“You will leave immediately. I will have you escorted to the edge of our lands.”

The woman’s rounded eyes looked to Declan who looked up to the ceiling as if bored.

“I expect better treatment. I was the late laird’s wife,” Gritzel screeched. “Where shall I go?”

“You can go with Declan for all I care. But you must never step again within the gates of Gordon Keep or I will have you beheaded.”

“Where am I to go?” Declan’s darkened eyes flew to Carrick’s face. The boredom had been a façade. Carrick noticed his brother trembled with rage as he glared at Gritzel then to him. “You have my word. I had nothing to do with Father being poisoned.”

“I don’t believe you did, brother. However, being her lover, I do not trust you to remain here.” Carrick understood that perhaps he and Declan would never be close, however, he’d do his part to seek a better relationship with his brother.

“I will go then. Perhaps our cousins to the north can use my sword arm.”

“I wish you to have Moriag.” Carrick watched as a multitude of emotions crossed his brother’s face.

“Our mother’s home?”

“You have always cherished it.”

“Yes, I have,” Declan conceded.

“I know you will care for it. The people of Moriag, the small village, need someone to oversee the dealings and protect them when needed. It will be your township to be laird over now.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Declan’s shoulders hunched. Gritzel, on the other hand, perked up, her face alert.

“Because you are my brother and I love you.” Carrick neared and placed a hand on Declan’s shoulder. “Father should have given you lands of your own long ago.”

“Brother, I do not deserve this.” Declan threw his arms around Carrick and hugged him hard. For the first time since childhood, Carrick held his brother in return. “Aye, you do, Declan. No matter your faults, you have always fought hard for our people, for our clan. And I trust one day we can be closer as brothers should be.”

They moved apart. Declan looked to Gritzel and then back to Carrick. “I would like to take a proper wife. Can you choose someone who will be a good match for me?”

Carrick looked to Analise, who smiled warmly in return, and then nodded. “Aye, I can. But I would prefer you find someone you will love and will love you in return. First, I ask this, brother. Take the time to get to know the people of the village. In six months’ time, if you have not met a good match, I will find a good counterpart for you.”

“I must admit that I had the ledgers for the keep taken away with Jules. I am sorry for taking them. I was bitter and jealous. When you showed to be a good and fair leader, I sent word for Jules to return. He will arrive on the morrow.”

When Carrick nodded he continued. “Thank you, brother. I will do well with what you have entrusted me with and swear to always be in allegiance to you, Laird Gordon.” Declan crossed one arm over his chest and fell to one knee. “Accept my vow.”

“I do.” Carrick laid his right hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Take at least eight of your most trusted guardsmen with you.”

Once he rose to his feet, Declan met Carrick’s gaze again. “I also hope for a closer relationship, brother.” He walked out past a red-faced Gritzel without even a glance.

Gritzel lowered her eyes and allowed the guards to lead her from the room.

Analise rushed to Carrick and wrapped her arms around his waist. She laid her head on his chest. “You are tenderhearted to allow Gritzel to live.”

“Father mistreated her for years. I don’t excuse what she did, but I understand it. I think we will not see her again.”

“And your brother?”

“He will be a good and fair leader. Besides, I need my brother to remain our ally in case something happens to me or we don’t have an heir. I want him to experience leadership and be prepared to be laird.”

“Ah. You should not worry handsome husband of mine.” She gifted him with a saucy smile that made his heart leap. “You see Laird Gordon, we will have an heir six months hence.”

It took several seconds for him to understand what she’d said. “A babe? You are with child?”

“Aye.”

Carrick cupped her still flat stomach and fell to his knees. He laid his cheek against it. “My life is full.”

Her hands rested on his shoulders. When he looked up to see her eyes shiny with tears, her lips curved. “I love you, Carrick, husband of mine.”

A more beautiful sight, he’d never seen.

The Lass and the Laird

Chapter One

Moriag, in the Northeast Highlands of Scotland

Declan Gordon pulled his horse to a stop to take in the scene before him. Majestic and lush, a heavy misting gave the illusion his new home rested in a heavenly realm. He pulled his tartan tighter to dispel the coolness of the evening air.

The stone keep was nestled amongst the clouds. At least it seemed so as it sat in a clearing of rich flora with a backdrop of the hazy Highland mountains to its rear and the shore of a loch on its left.

His childhood friend, Ian, pulled alongside, his massive, gray gelding pawing the ground. “Is that it?”

“Aye, it is. Our new home. Moriag.”

“Larger than I expected.” Ian scanned the surroundings and scowled, his dark blond hair glistening from droplets of light drizzle. “Is it true that a Campbell owns the lands to one side and a McNeil those on the other?”

“From what my mother always said, clans never fight here. But instead to this day co-exist in peace. Has been that way since my great-grandfather settled in these parts.”

The wind picked up, with it the smell of rain.

The deeper glower on Ian’s face mirrored his own sentiments. After an entire lifetime of constant clashes and an eye over one’s shoulder on Gordon lands, it was hard to fathom the thought of peace. Both he and Ian had lived the life of warriors, a sword within reach at all times.

Was it possible now to live with no wariness about the land’s encroachers, border infringements, stolen cattle, or such? Declan surmised he would find out.

“Still, I would feel better if we got inside before dark.” Declan motioned for the other riders to take the horses to a trot. “I am not sure what to expect, so better to have the advantage of what’s left of daylight.”

Once they neared, a lad, who must have been keeping an eye out, sprinted toward the inner courtyard inside yelling at the top of his lungs. “The laird arrives.”

Laird. He was now the overseer of the large keep, lands, and people. Something he’d never dared dream of.

By the time Declan and his six men brought the horses to a stand inside the tidy courtyard, eight people were lined up with expressions of barely concealed curiosity. Every eye followed his progress as he dismounted and walked to them. Declan ensured to maintain a calm façade although, inside, his stomach flipped and his heart thudded against his breastbone.

A large woman with rosy cheeks wearing a crisp apron and matching cap, stepped forward, in front of the rest. “Welcome, Laird. I am Pat, your cook and housemistress.” She attempted a curtsy, but it came out more like a bob, being her girth was as wide as her height. “Welcome to yer new home.”

One by one, two lads and three maids were introduced. An older gardener and stable hand were last to make his acquaintance.

Declan wasn’t sure how to address his newly acquired staff. He’d never considered the fact that he’d one day have a keep of his own. As second born, it was not in his birthright. Like most sons without expectation of taking over after their father, he’d concentrated on far less finer pursuits.

His older brother, Carrick, had been more than generous upon bequeathing to Declan their mother’s home after becoming laird of Clan Gordon. A gift he didn’t deserve. He pushed away thoughts of guilt at how he’d never tried to be close to Carrick and brought his attention back to the present.

The small staff waited for him to speak. He inclined his head in greeting and made eye contact with each person. “I am grateful for the warm welcome. Greetings from my brother and his wife.” He motioned to his men and introduced them starting with Ian. His men seemed as ill at ease as he felt at the staff’s close scrutiny. “Ian is my second, will stand in my stead when I am away. My guardsmen are Dugan…” He introduced each, ensuring the six men were greeted.

Carrick instructed he must immediately take control and not allow for wavering. The people of Moriag were keen and would sense any failing in their laird. He looked to the older man. “See to it that the horses are stabled, brushed down, and fed.” He turned his attention back to Pat. “My men and I require a meal after settling. The guardsmen will sleep in the courtyard rooms. I expect they’ve been readied.” He motioned to the row of neat guard quarters just inside the courtyard. “Ian and I will inhabit two rooms on the second floor.”

“Of course, Laird. All of the rooms have been prepared,” Pat assured him with a proud smile. “I have personally inspected each space to make sure all is as it should be.”

The older man stepped up and, before long, he and another lad, who appeared from where he assumed were the stables, guided some of the horses away. Ian and another of his men followed behind them.

Not surprising to Declan. Ian would never allow another to see to his steed until he trusted the stable hands. And even then, it was doubtful. It was not in Ian’s nature and no one challenged him when it came to the care of the beast whose ill temper was legendary.

The housemistress motioned at two maids and a lad to take his and Ian’s bags inside.

The four remaining guardsmen waited for instruction. “Go see about settling. If you need bathing, the loch is as good a place as any tonight. I suppose after that you can ask for a bath in the kitchens. I’ll be in the great room after a bit.” Proper warriors, the men walked away with their horses, seeing about settling the beasts before themselves.

Feeling odd at being laird, he took in every space as he followed Pat inside the large home.

The interior was well cared for, fresh rushes on the floors. Colorful tapestries hung on tall, stone walls helped to mute the echoes of their heavy footfalls. Lined up like soldiers in two long rows, newly built tables and benches gleamed with fresh polish. After garnering a glare from Pat, in whispered tones the lads rushed two tall hunting dogs outside. She gave him a quick nod. “The hounds were left here by yer brother. Said you’d have good use of them for hunting.”

“They are fine dogs. They may be allowed inside at night,” he answered and Pat relaxed.

“Very well, my laird.”

The condition of the hundred year old home astonished him. His brother’s wife, Analise, was mainly responsible for the impressive care and maintenance. Although Declan had not known his sister-in-law long, the beautiful woman stunned him with her intelligence and no-nonsense management of a household.

Declan aspired to such attributes in a wife of his own. Someone who’d not just warm his bed, but share in his interests and manage the home as well. Perhaps it was too forward a way of thinking and most women would balk at the idea. Yet after meeting his husband’s wife, he was convinced another like her was a possibility.

When his stomach growled, Pat smiled at him. “Go upstairs, Laird. We have warm water waiting for ye to wash away the dirt of yer travels. I’ll see about the dinner meal in the meantime.”

Declan climbed the stairs to his chamber. A comely maid stood just inside the open door, her eyes darting between him and the tidy space.

Other than a four-poster bed and a large trunk, there was a stand with a pitcher and bowl, two chairs before a great hearth, and a large tapestry hanging on the wall over it. A window provided some lighting. Being it was close to sunset, two large lanterns were lit, one on a table by the bed and another beside one of the chairs.

“This is adequate,” he told the maid and watched her shuffle crestfallen to help direct the young man who carried his belongings.

Declan waited until she faced him again. “What I meant to say is that the room is more than satisfactory. Very…” he searched for words as the maid looked to him with expectation. “Very nice. You have done quite well, uh….”

“Awena.” She beamed and bobbed her head. “I am thankful ye are pleased, my laird.”

After the maid and lad left, he was finally alone for the first moment in too many days. Declan stood in the middle of the room attempting to settle his mind. He was not at all sure what to expect of this new, unanticipated start in life. Now he was laird, shouldering the burden of responsibility for not only the people in the small keep, but for the nearby village of Moriag.

The view from his window was impressive. Past hills and valleys, he spotted the village. It was a good size. Although he could not make out more than the outline of buildings, smoke spoke of activity.

As soon as possible, he planned to ride there and get acquainted with the townsfolk. The outlying small farms and homes would be next on his list. Thankfully, he’d done most of his now-deceased father’s business in the last years, so was familiar with the duties he was expected to perform.

He removed his dirty traveling clothes and stood nude before the large pewter pitcher and bowl. There wasn’t nearly enough water in the vessel to come close to cleaning his entire body so he settled for washing his face, neck, forearms, and between his legs before donning a clean shirt and breeches.

Once done, he left the room to seek the meal Pat promised.

The evening meal went beyond his expectations. He called for the cook and praised her in front of the men and other servants. “The meal was delicious. I’d not expected such flavors and am greatly pleased. I thank you.” The flustered Pat seemed about to burst with pride as she hurried from the room promising a delicious meal for the following evening.

The maids hurried to refill his glass, barely giving him time to finish his servings before doing the same to his plate. After two full helpings and plenty of mead, he was more than ready to seek his bed.

Ian laughed when Declan’s eyes widened at a maid who, once again, approached with a tray in hand ready to refill his plate. “Nay, lass, the laird is quite full.” He shrugged and pointed to his own plate. “But I would like a bit.”

“I fear I’ll burst,” Declan admitted. “But it’s so tasty, it’s hard to stop eating.”

His friend nodded. “You may have been a bit overly lavish in your praise to Pat. You’ll be too heavy to ride if you eat this way every night.”

“Aye.” Declan laughed and shook his head. “I have much to learn.”

A bath was ready when Declan returned to his room. The maid, Awena, waited to assist him and Declan hesitated when her eyes roamed his body, her lips pursed in appreciation. As laird, she was his for the taking, but it was not how he planned to start his life as laird.

“Where is the lad who was here earlier? Edan, I believe. Tell him to come and assist me. He will be my serving man from now on.”

“Yes, my laird.” The now solemn maid bobbed and left.

Declan made a mental note to hire additional staff to assist with the larger household. He expected Ian and his loyal guardsmen to be cared after as well as any visitors.

An hour later, freshly bathed, he climbed into bed, his eyes already closing. Tomorrow he’d ride out and explore his new lands. Get to know all he could about Moriag. Its village people, the harvests, and the neighboring lairds, all part of his domain now. Making mental checklists, his eyes drooped.

A thought struck and he looked up at the ceiling. What had possessed him to ask his brother to seek for him a suitable wife within six months? If he didn’t find a woman on his own in five months hence, his brother would choose one for him. An arranged marriage was suddenly not desirable.

As much as he wanted a wife to start a family with, for the time being, he wasn’t sure about settling with someone he didn’t find desirable. Or worse, a mousy woman who’d only do as he bid.

There was the added change, he’d never been faithful to anyone, always preferred to seek the company of different women. Each had different gifts to offer, which he enjoyed. A wife would certainly change things.

As laird he could always have lovers, he supposed. After all, he was a virile man who’d never suffered from bedsport energy. Then again, other than the maid, the town was very small. Perhaps his selection would be limited. This was to be an adjustment in many ways. No longer was he living with a large clan and its readily available lasses.

Six months.

A wife.

He would ponder on this more.

Morning came with the aroma of food. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and opened them to find Edan placing a tray of food on a table. The young man moved soundlessly, as if with years of practice. Declan allowed Edan to continue the chores and closed his eyes again.

The boy had been overly excited to learn of his new post. At about ten and five, he proclaimed to be a full-grown man, who’d serve him ’til his death. The kind of loyalty a laird inspired made him wonder at how his father could have abused the position given to him. The people were eager to please and he would ensure they were all fairly treated.

Later that day, he and Ian, along with his guardsmen, mounted their horses to start the familiarization with his lands and people. Declan sat straight in the saddle and scanned the area.

Fruit groves edged a river that ran through the woods. Deer scampered away and they discovered several boar tracks.

When a rabbit scurried across their trail, Ian shot an arrow at it and missed. “I was not prepared,” he explained when the two guards who accompanied them laughed.

Declan chuckled. “We will not want for food, that is obvious. As long as we don’t have to depend on Ian for the hunting.”

Dugan, one of the guards, narrowed his eyes into the forest. “Are ye confident we should not be prepared to draw swords? Someone approaches.”

“Nay. Everyone gets along well here.” In spite of his words, a tingle went through his sword arm. Years of training and clan battles did not go away so easily. He had no doubt the other three felt on edge as they waited for the lone rider to approach.

“Ye must be Laird of Moriag.” The older man lifted his bushy brows when both Dugan and the other guard’s hands went to their swords. “Do not fret, gentlemen. I do not mean your laird any harm.”

“Jon Campbell, Laird of Claudaugh.” He bowed his head and his dark blue eyes met Declan’s. “I knew yer mother. A fine woman. Yer da as well.”

From the hardening around Campbell’s mouth the man must not have cared for his father. It wasn’t surprising. “I am Declan Gordon, as you seem to already know.”

“Aye, yer brother told me you were coming. You favor each other as well.” Campbell looked across to the water’s edge. “My land and yours join here. Your men are welcome to hunt and fish as they wish. We’ve never kept a hard hand on boundaries.”

“Yet here you are to point it out.” Declan met the man’s eyes, not seeing any type of malice.

“Aye. I am searching for my dog. He was injured during a boar hunt two days past and has not returned home. I fear he must be somewhere in pain. It’s silly of me, of course, but he has been a faithful companion for many years and I have grown quite fond of him.”

“We will assist you in your search.” Declan and his men listened to the older man’s descriptions and spent the rest of the afternoon in search of a dog they finally found under a bush. The animal was as ecstatic as Campbell upon being reunited.

The Campbell stood and shook hands with Declan. “I will be pleased to invite you and your men to dine at my keep. You have my allegiance at your simple, but noble, deed.” The man’s eyes twinkled when he looked down to the dog that sat at his feet holding an injured paw off the ground.

“We gladly accept.” Declan patted the beast’s head. “I am sure your dog will heal promptly.”

Once Campbell heaved the large animal across his horse and rode off, it was time to return home. Declan watched the older man go and looked to Ian. “It’s quite different, is it not? The simple task of finding the beast may have sealed an alliance with the Campbells.”

“Aye, quite different.” Ian shrugged. “Perhaps he has a daughter you can marry.”

“Or you.” Declan laughed when Ian scowled.

Ian had not married, claiming to wait for Declan to do so first. The man, in Declan’s opinion, much preferred a variety of women to settling with one. Not that he could blame him, as Ian never suffered for lack of interest from the fairer sex. Most of the time, he’d decline offers much to the delight of the other guards, who usually had to settle for second best.

The other guardsmen waited for Ian to give orders. The leader of his guard looked to him. “There’s time for them to ride into town and return by supper.”

“No need,” Declan replied. “Allow them to go and return as they please. As reward for finding the hound.”

Ian nodded and instructed the men to do as they wished. The men split in two groups. Three went toward town, the other two toward the loch. Declan studied the departing men. “Why are Dugan and Conor not going to town?”

“I believe they are going to bathe and then battle for a maid’s attentions.”

“Ah.”

“And you?”

“I don’t have to battle.” Ian snorted at Declan holding back a chuckle and rode off.

The next morning after breaking his fast, Declan decided it was time to see about the surrounding farms and village. He descended the stairs to the great room and found only two of his men in attendance.

Ian and Dugan looked up from a table at his entrance. His friend’s gaze followed his progress and then looked past him and darkened. Declan didn’t have to turn around to know the maid, Awena, must have come down the stairs behind him.

As lusty as Ian was, he was sure she’d already warmed the male’s bed. Finally his friend’s attention returned to him. “Fare thee well, Laird?”

“Aye, Ian. We will ride to the village today. Unless you are too tired to ride again so soon.” He emphasized the word ride and lifted a brow. “Or should I allow you to remain here and look into the upkeep of the bedding?”

It was hard not to laugh when Ian’s brows lowered and he mumbled low curses. “I have already asked for our mounts to be brought around. Two of the men will ride with us.”

This was not to his liking. Declan had always detested lack of freedom and the need for guards was something new. It would not sit well with the simple people of Moriag that he thought to need protection.

“I will not ride about with guards at my side today. I will only ride with you.” He looked to Dugan. “Go to the west and ride as far as the loch goes. My lands end there. Report to me at the evening meal what you find.”

“I don’t agree. As you are now laird, you must be guarded,” Ian protested.

“Nay. My brother assures me it is safe here and you saw the Campbell. He traveled alone.” They walked outside and he looked to Dugan and the other four who’d already mounted. The men looked to their leader, Ian, as if for confirmation.

Declan didn’t give Ian the opportunity to talk. “You will do as I say or return to Gordon Keep today.”

The men left without a backward glance.

“If you get pierced by an arrow, I will push it further in,” Ian told him, reaching for the reins and mounting. “You stand warned.”

Declan found his seat before replying with wide, innocent eyes. “You say such beautiful words to me, darling.”

“To the village first?” Ian gritted the words out.

“Aye.”

“Care to ride ahead of me, milady?” Ian waved a hand forward.

“I wonder at the folly to have asked you to accompany me to live here.”

“It would have been worse not to have me to look after your foolish ways.”

“Hmmm.”

Chapter Two

Meredith Stuart should have been enjoying the day at the village square. It was warm with slight breezes that cooled her heated skin. The atmosphere was light and people mingled about sharing stories and greetings.

Traveling musicians were set up in the center of the square on a small platform and played a lively tune while children ran around dancing, their little faces gleaming with joy.

Spotting wooden bowls, she lifted her skirts and moved across a muddy spot and neared a vendor. She picked one up and admired the workmanship of the dish and then absently turned to her companion. “Is it not lovely?”

The maid, Lily, held up her large basket and Meredith placed two bowls into it. She smiled at the couple who thanked her profusely for paying full price and wished her a good day.

With a deep sigh, she continued to the next stand to inspect their wares. “Milady, why don’t we sit for a spell? You are moving from stall to stall without taking a rest.” Lily’s breathless words made Meredith realize that, indeed, she was winded as well.

“I had not considered how much walking about we are doing and how fast. Surely I am not in a hurry to return home. I am sorry, Lily.” The vendor held up a stained glass ornament that reflected the sunlight. “I will take it.” Meredith paid for it and placed it in Lily’s basket.

“Come, let’s get something to drink and sit a spell.” They walked to a small inn in hopes of refreshing drinks and freshly baked goods.

Lily helped Meredith settle and joined her at the small table by a window. “This is nice.” The girl fanned her plump, red cheeks. “I just need to sit a bit and then we can continue all you wish, milady.”

Cider and fresh bread were placed on the table. The innkeeper’s wife, Hannah McGregor, gave her a cheerful smile and asked about her brother.

Meredith drank from her glass, but ignored the bread and peered through the window to the square. “I feel restless, Lily.” She let out a sigh and slumped forward.

“Are you unwell?” Lily asked. “I know you’ve had a hard time of it of late, but ’tis a beautiful day to be about. I am in need of more ale, I fear. My throat is dry.” She lifted a pitcher and refilled her glass.

Meredith felt pity for how she’d brought the maid who rarely complained to do so. “I am a bit overanxious today. A ride out may have been a better choice than coming here.”

The maid nodded, a sympathetic expression on her face, and took loud gulps from the cup. “I understand, milady. It’s not every day one’s betrothed comes to marry ye and then promptly dies three days later.” Unfazed, the girl slathered an enormous amount of butter on her piece of bread and stuffed it into her small mouth.

Meredith’s mouth fell open at the maid’s lack of decorum. “Lily, you must not speak so openly about my husband’s death in public. I didn’t know him well, but imagine he was a…nice man.”

Once again the maid nodded. “Aye, he seemed…well born…and yes, a bit nice.”

“Indeed.” Meredith pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Nice was not a word she’d thought of when first meeting her betrothed. She’d sobbed in Lily’s arms until falling into a fitful sleep that night.

The immediate dislike of the older man, who looked down his nose at her, convinced Meredith she’d never grow to love the unattractive and pompous man.

Unfortunately, her headstrong brother believed his sister should get married promptly on her twentieth birthday. Her brother, who was forever attempting to grow their small clan and make for a stronger front if ever needed, insisted on marrying her to a larger one in the surrounding area.

Personally, Meredith would have preferred death by sword than years of marriage to the horrible Farquhar Murray she’d been forced to marry. Fate’s cruel sense of humor had granted her wish in a way. Only three days after marrying, she’d been thrown into seclusion to mourn a man she barely knew. So, yes, now she craved fresh air and being outdoors. And admittedly, the freedom being a widow brought. Short lived as it was to be. Her brother insisted she not remain unmarried.

She let out a sigh. “I am not in a hurry to return home at all. My brother is planning a visit to the new laird at Moriag.” She shuddered. “He is a second born son who lucked into land. Given to him by the laird of Clan Gordon, his brother, Carrick. The last thing I want is to be paraded before him in hopes he’ll marry me.”

“It is said that Declan Gordon is a fetching man who never suffers for a woman’s company,” Lily informed her with wide eyes. “A lusty sort, that one.”

Meredith bit her bottom lip to keep from reminding the maid to not speak so freely because, right now, she was interested. Lily had been her handmaid and confidant since she was fifteen and Lily twelve. Now five years later, it was too late to try to change their relationship. Her brother reprimanded them constantly, telling Meredith that her husband would not stand for such a free-speaking maid.

“What else have you heard about the Gordon?” Meredith tore a piece of bread from the loaf, buttered it and bit into the delicious crust. “Tell me.”

“Well…” Lily clutched her hands together with glee. “I hear the younger laird, Declan, is not honorable. He openly disliked his brother and even bedded his late father’s wife.”

“No!”

“Yes, that is what the chambermaid, Awena, overheard when the older Carrick Gordon and his wife, Analise, lived there.”

Meredith felt the room tilt and she ran both hands over her face. “God help me. I didn’t think it was possible for things to get any worse.” It was doubtful the new lusty laird would be interested in marrying someone like her, of a lesser and tiny clan with a modest dowry. The thought gave her hope.

Lily continued. “Awena told me the new Laird Gordon is a beautiful devil. It is said he is even more attractive than Laird Carrick, if that’s possible. Just his presence makes the most reasonable of maids swoon at his feet.”

“And, no doubt, tumble into his bed as well,” Meredith grumbled. “I must find a way to keep my brother from visiting the Gordon.” An idea came to mind and she let out a breath. “Come, Lily, surely there is another man here in the village worth marrying. I must shop for something altogether different now.” She placed silver coins on the table and rose.

“What do you mean to do, milady?” Lily grabbed her basket and held it up blocking Meredith’s path. “Don’t do anything that ye will regret.”

“Don’t be silly. I am stopping my brother from marrying me to a lust-filled, dreadful man.” Meredith was losing time and patience with her maid. “Come with me or stay, it matters naught. It may be best if I do this alone.” She moved around the basket-wielding maid and headed to the door.

Meredith stepped through the door already scanning the surroundings for the man who’d help her out of a bad situation. A handsome and nice husband was exactly what she needed. Someone who worked his land and kept a good home. She didn’t require he be rich, her small dowry would ensure a good start for a comfortable life.

“What are you planning?” Lily hurried to stand before her with both arms outstretched. She made a comical sight, her cap askew, basket hanging from an arm and her shawl off one shoulder. “I will not allow ye to do something that will be harmful to yer honor and future, Meredith.”

In her consternation, Lily forgot to address her properly and for some reason, it made Meredith giggle. “I’m not, Lily,” she said and Lily relaxed, lowering her arms. “I plan to find a man of my choice and then I will ensure he compromises me and is forced to marry me. That is all.” She waltzed around the slack-mouthed Lily and headed toward the town square.

Unfortunately, she lost bravado quite fast. The men in the square left a lot to be desired. Two men, one lanky and stooped, the other broad of chest with a large belly stood arguing over a sad looking cow. A farmer wearing a lopsided hat and a scowl strode across her path; a woman scurried behind with a bawling babe in one arm and another child dragging behind. There was a vendor who sold his wares with a loud voice. He was younger, but Meredith could not see herself spending her days standing next to the cart touting the wonders of sheepskins. An attractive man stepped into view and she perked up only to lose interest when he lifted a tankard, screamed in slurred words for the band to play a jig to which he immediately began to hop around in a circle to.

Two horsemen neared, both at once catching her attention.

A tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man dismounted. His companion, just as tall with lighter golden, wavy hair did the same. They tethered their horses and began walking. Whoever the men were, they commanded attention. Children scurried to them and she watched the darker one place a coin in their outstretched hands.

The lighter man did no such thing, by his scowl seemed to disapprove and, instead, tracked a tartlet walking to the well.

It was possible the fair-haired man was the new laird. Her future husband would be handsome, caring, and generous like the dark-haired one. She turned to Lily, who’d caught up. “Is that the new laird?”

“I believe so, milady.” Lily narrowed her eyes at the men. “Both are quite bonnie are they not?”

“Yes, but it’s obvious who is the laird by the scowl and how he tracks that woman.” Meredith looked to the tart, who hesitated upon noticing the blond man’s notice.

While the laird lingered with the horses, a bored expression on his face, the other man bent to talk to a young lad and petted a dog, obviously the boy’s pride and joy.

Meredith’s lips curved. Now to find a way to get the darker man alone, away from people and to ensure one of her brother’s men, who now barely paid her any mind, find them alone and in a compromising position. The guards had grown bored with her and Lily’s wanderings and stood under a tree looking at the goings-on in the square.

With careful steps, she went closer.

Her maid caught up with her. “Milady, we should go. Your brother will be cross at you being gone so late.”

“My brother barely notices my comings and goings. Give me a few moments, I have a plan.” She pulled the maid to stand beside a cart. “Remain here and once you see me head to the side of the inn, get one of my brother’s guards and come to find me.”

Lily’s eyes darted from her to different places around the square as if she were trying to decide whether to run or remain. “Whatever you plan, it can’t be good. You should wait until yer brother meets the Gordon. You may change your mind.”

“I will not.” Meredith let out an impatient huff. “I see with my own eyes, although he is indeed handsome, he is a lusty sort who will not settle anytime soon. He will be an unfaithful husband. Now, Lily, wait here. Do as I say.”

The maid let out a long sigh and hunched her shoulders in defeat. “Very well then.

The dark-haired stranger stopped and spoke to a vendor, who presented him with a wrapped bundle. He placed it in a sack slung across his body.

It was time. Meredith hurried from her maid who said something along the lines of “oh no” and continued forward until she bumped, none to gently, into the tall, dark-haired man.

Meredith didn’t bother to look up. Instead, she leaned toward him and swayed. “Kind sir, can you help me. I feel faint.”

“Of course.” His voice was deep and refined. She attempted to turn her face to get a better look, but he was looking away as if trying to decide where to guide her.

“To the inn, the second doorway there…yes, that’s it. It will be shaded and cool so I can regain my balance. The innkeeper keeps a bench there.” She took slow steps and prayed the guards didn’t notice her yet. She snuck a peek from beneath her lashes and saw they were turned away, both ogling a woman passing by. Perfect.

Once she and the stranger arrived at the inn, she staggered to the side of the building and went slack, her legs giving out. The man lifted her easily and carried her further into the dimness.

He held her against him and turned this way and that. “There is nowhere to lay you down. I don’t see a bench. Perhaps the inn would be a better choice.”

“J…just need a moment.” She inhaled dramatically and held on to his neck. “I feel better already.”

“Milady!” Lily cried and Meredith caught a glance of her wide-eyed maid and approaching guards. Before the stranger could put her down, she grabbed the man’s face, turned it toward her and took his mouth with hers.

Chapter Three

Confused, Declan allowed the woman to kiss him. The sloppy attempt at seduction failed. It became apparent she wasn’t experienced, but giving it her best effort, turning her face this way and that, her lips pressed hard against his. Why would she think a kiss would make her feel better?

A trio rounded the corner and now blocked the opening. Two men glared and drew swords while a plump maid jumped up and down attempting to see over their shoulders while calling out. “Milady, get down.”

The lass had yet to release his face so he pulled back and looked at her. She was beautiful, beyond words actually. Her long-lashed green eyes took him in, while her rosebud, pink mouth formed a perfect “O”. She looked as surprised by his appearance as he was at hers.

The sword-wielding men stopped in their tracks and seemed unsure as to how to proceed. Obviously they’d not attack while he held their mistress, so he ignored them.

“I’ve never been told kissing brings one around from fainting.” He smiled at his burden. “Did it work?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. “Yes, I feel much better, thank you.”

“What happens here? Unhand the lady, sir.” One of the men pointed his sword first at him then at the woman ensconced in his arms. “You will answer for this mistreatment to our laird.”

Unsure if the woman would fall, he held her still. “Allow me to draw my own sword to defend myself.” Declan attempted to pull the woman away, but she remained latched to him, arms around his neck. “I would hand her over to you, but she seems attached to me at the moment.”

The second man, an older, burly sort stepped forward. “Mistress Meredith, release the man so we may fight.”

The lass looked to them. “I will not allow you to hurt him.” She finally released his neck and he lowered her feet to the ground, finding she was quite stable. His new protector held an arm in front of him. “He merely rescued me from fainting.”

“By kissing ye?” The younger man once again emphasized his words with the sword.

“Your brother will have much to say about this.” The older man pushed the younger aside and looked at Declan. “You will be brought before the new laird of Moriag for your actions.” He then gave the lass a patient look. “Come along, milady. We must go now.”

The pretty woman looked up to him and smiled. “I thank you for your rescue. I will ensure my brother understands you only tried to assist me.”

Her flustered maid hurried forward and pulled her away by the hand. “Goodness, milady, what have you done?”

Declan watched the group hurry away, the younger man turned and glared at him one last time, while the others talked in hushed tones as they walked away.

Perplexed at the last few moments, he moved in front of the inn where Ian came upon him. “What happened?”

“The most curious thing. A lass asked for my rescue, then promptly kissed me. Her guards and maid found us. One pulled a sword, the other threatened with taking me before the new laird.”

“The red-haired lass?” Ian watched the group as the women were assisted onto a wagon and the younger man mounted a horse.

“Aye. Addled, I think.”

“Comely wench.”

“True.”

“But not right in the head.”

“Sad thing that.”

They went inside the inn and met the innkeeper and his wife, who fed them and poured ale while discussing the goings-on about town.

Declan decided to find out about the woman who’d kissed him. “Who is the fiery-haired lass who was about the square?”

“Oh, you must mean Meredith Stuart.” The woman brightened at the prospect of telling a new story. “A sad tale that. Her wedding day was quite the event, many from this township attended. She married an older gentleman who promptly died three days later. It’s said she slept the entire night next to him, not realizing he was no more.”

Ian let out a loud guffaw that he covered up by coughing. Declan found the new information interesting. “I’m sure it must have been horrible.”

The woman shrugged. “Yes, although if ye ask me, she was saved from a miserable life with that one. The man was not agreeable in the least.”

For the rest of the day, Declan and Ian proceeded to meet the different vendors and shopkeepers in town. People came out of homes to meet him and he gave each his time and got to know many.

When he returned to his mount, Declan wasn’t sure what to make of all the gifts people insisted he take. Arms full of cloth and other smaller things, he began stuffing them into sacks he hung from the saddle. Unable to take all he’d been presented with, he promised to send his men to pick up the larger gifts, especially a pig a woman assured him would make the best meal he’d ever had.

Mimicking what he’d seen his brother do, he invited several of the townsfolk for an evening meal.

At sundown, the great room bustled with activity. Several townsfolk were in attendance. Long, wooden tables hosted two families and another was filled with men from surrounding lands. At the fourth table, Declan ate with his men. He wasn’t ready to sit at the high board alone with, perhaps, only Ian for company. It seemed pretentious to him.

Dugan reported to have found rich farmlands and groves of fruit trees on his trek that day. Well pleased by also having found a farmer with four pretty daughters, the guards asked Declan to invite the family to dinner. Declan agreed, as he’d ride out to the lands himself in a few days.

He’d yet to see the surrounding area to the south. Planned to do so the next morning. Hopefully sneak off early before Ian awoke and get away alone.

A piper played lively music and Declan watched as the people clapped. The conversations became animated as the maids served mead and ensured his guests were well served.

This was to be his home, his people. A sense of pride and purpose like he’d never felt filled him.

On occasion, his mind wandered to the woman in town. Meredith Stuart. What had brought her to kiss him? Would her brother come to him demanding explanations? He’d have to wait and see. It would be interesting to see if she’d come as well.

Certainly would be good to see the beautiful woman again.

Although the circumstances could prove to be even more awkward than their first meeting.

Chapter Four

Meredith stalked from one end of her chamber to the other. What had she done? Foolish and impulsive as usual, she’d once again acted before thinking through the consequences of her actions.

Truth be told, she didn’t want to marry anyone. Now, somehow she had to convince her brother to not take the matter of what happened in town to the new laird.

The dark-haired man was fine-looking, but without any knowledge of as much as his name, she could not be sure if he was a gentleman or not. What if he had a price on his handsome head? He could be wanted for killing or treason.

She took in the familiar space. If only women were granted the freedom to do as they wished. A small cottage by the loch is where she’d live. She’d pass the days peacefully, harvesting herbs for healing and cooking meals for the elderly of the village.

The handsome stranger’s face formulated in her mind and Meredith decided she would also take a lover in her cottage by the loch. A handsome man, like the stranger, who would bring her flowers and baubles.

Lily’s entrance dragged her from her daydreams. “Milady. You are lucky your brother is not home, but away for two days.”

She wondered where Aiden had gone. He’d not mentioned anything about a trip that morning before she’d left for the village. “Where did he go?”

“Carob says to visit the Campbell. They sent a messenger to fetch him.”

“Interesting.”

Aiden and the Campbell were on good terms, and even with a large difference in age, often visited and spoke for long spells. Yet she wondered at the message. Was the Campbell ill or had something unexpected happened?

Lily brought one of her dresses out of the wardrobe and shook the folds with gusto before placing it over a chair for the next day. “Would you like me to bring you something to eat, milady?”

Often when Aiden was gone, she ate in her room. The only female in a house full of men, she liked to allow them time to speak freely without having to measure what they spoke of. Already the noise of the conversation was so noisy she could hear the loud guffaws in her chamber. “Perhaps just bread and cheese, I am not very hungry.”

“I will bring ye a proper dinner.” Lily gave her a stern look. “Ye had only a piece of bread at the inn. It’s a wonder ye almost fainted.” The maid hid a smile behind her hand.

“Eat with me, Lily, then.” Meredith smiled back. “I was foolish today. Should listen to you more often.”

With a bob of her head, Lily left and Meredith moved to the window. What was the stranger’s name? What would happen if he were brought before the laird? Everyone would know the folly of her ways and she’d be humiliated and the gossip of the town. Aiden would surely not want his first meeting with the new laird to be about his impetuous sister.

Her stomach flipped. “I won’t marry anyone. I’ll run away and ask the new laird for asylum before I do.” She could offer her services as maid or seamstress, or…she let out a huff. Depressing how limited her options were.

Mind awhirl, she began the task of letting her hair down to enjoy a relaxing evening in her chamber. She’d worry about everything else the next day.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Meredith jerked awake as her brother stepped through the doorway. His dark expression made her sit up and move back against the headboard. “Aiden, what happens?”

“What happens? Did you just ask me what happens? I am the one who wants to ask that question of you, sister.”

Obviously the guards wasted no time in relaying what occurred the day before to Aiden. “I was sleeping until you walked in. You frightened me. Where were you? I was told you were to be gone two days at Clan Campbell.”

“Your attempt to distract me will not work. I was told you stole away with a stranger in town yesterday. Were kissing him. Explain this to me.”

Although her brother had been her guardian only five years and was that many years older, his anger alarmed her. It became impossible to swallow past her dry throat. “I-I do have an explanation, but you have to calm. You are scaring me.”

A glower was the only response but her brother moved to the fireplace and leaned against the wall. Not quite calm, but less threatening. “Is there a reason for your actions other than to ruin your reputation?”

“I was…am distraught at the thought of being matched to marry again. Is it too much to ask that I at least be given a choice? I acted without thought. Only I can be blamed for kissing the man without him expecting it. Aiden, I need more time.”

It gave her comfort that Aiden seemed to ponder her words. In the years since their father died, he’d changed from a relaxed demeanor to a darker, easy to anger, and hard man. Meredith studied his profile and wondered at the burdens her brother carried that he didn’t speak of.

His two-toned gaze took her in. “The death of your new husband has affected you, I understand. However, I must find you a good home, ensure you are protected and cared for by a good husband. Who is this man you kissed with? Is he someone of good standing?”

“I don’t want to cause you more to worry about, Aiden. I am sorry.” Meredith avoided answering, not wanting to admit she had no idea who the dark-haired stranger was. “I will accept whatever you decide is best. But I don’t understand why I can’t remain here with you. It’s what I wish above all else.”

His face softened, he moved closer and cupped her face with one hand. “You can remain here, sister. But I will marry one day and whoever my wife is will oversee the household. I know this will cause conflict. You are not one to give control over easily. Besides, you are a beautiful woman who deserves a home and family of your own.”

His words brought tears to her eyes. Aiden knew her well and understood her thoughts of such things. Yes, what she’d always dreamed of was a good husband and many children. A family and home to take care of.

“I will go to Laird Gordon and investigate his plans as far as marriage. If he is willing, I will propose a match. You cannot do better in this region.”

It was hard to bite back a retort. All she could do was pray the Gordon was not willing. “Aye, brother, I love you.”

“And I, you.” Her brother kissed her cheek and left the room.

Fast as she could, Meredith pulled on a simple frock and grabbed her shawl. Before Lily came, she’d sneak food from the kitchen and escape outdoors. If her days of freedom were numbered, she’d make the best of them.

Soon she rode past the edge of the Stuart lands, toward a clearing where she planned to spend the day writing poetry, laying in the sun, and allowing nature to release her from the worry of a possible match to the awful, lust-filled Gordon.

Declan rode hard and fast. He relished the feel of the wind and the freedom that came from running his horse. The sun was warm upon his back, the cooler breeze on his face. A smile curved his lips as he saw a flock of birds lift from their hiding place and soar to the blue sky.

His steed, fast as the wind, lunged forward seeming to enjoy this time as much as he did. The bunching of the strong muscles flexed under Declan’s body.

Upon reaching the nearby loch, Declan brought the horse to the shore and looked across the calm waters. In the distance he made out another keep. The McNeil’s no doubt. If his life would revolve around judging disputes and assuring his people were taken care of, he would make time to get to know both the Campbells and the McNeils. It was best when any argument happened between townships to have a feel for how the other lairds would respond.

The horse drank its fill of water and moved to graze on nearby tall grass. Once he was assured the horse was hobbled properly, Declan kneeled at the water’s edge and splashed water on his own face.

Out of the corner of his eye, movement caught his attention and he stilled. Lowering, he moved sideways to peer over a fallen tree.

Next to a large rock stood the lass from the day before. She placed a basket on the ground, pulled out a blanket and laid it on the grass. Next she removed her dress, followed by her chemise and stockings and walked fully naked to the water’s edge.

A more beautiful sight he’d never seen. Creamy skin over her lush curves called for a touch. Her large breasts fell softly upon her chest, the rosy peaks taut from the cool wind.

Her hair fell to mid-back, just about to the roundness of her backside.

Mesmerized, he moved closer, while careful not to make a sound. She sang a sweet song, her voice light and airy as she washed up. When she dove under the water, he moved to stand nearby ensuring to be hidden by a tangle of leaves and vines.

She’d pick a good location; several trees grew sideways, their long branches creating a canopy over the water.

With barely a splash, the bathing beauty emerged and turned onto her back, floating on the surface, her pert breasts above the water. His cock stirred to life and he reached down to press his palm against it. If the lass were indeed senseless, she was beautiful madness. She turned onto her stomach and dove under once again, her round buttocks disappearing too quickly.

The surface stilled and he wondered where she’d gone. He took a step forward just as she surfaced.

A branch snapped beneath his foot and she yelped and began flaying in the water. Sputtering, she sunk down until only her head remained above it. “Who goes there?”

Declan stepped from behind the tree feeling a bit foolish at being caught. “I was out for a ride and overheard you. It seems we both seek the beauty of the outdoors today.”

“Oh.” Her mouth open, she stared at him wide-eyed. “You are the man from the square.” She looked to where her clothing lay on the rock. “Why are you here? This is my brother’s land.”

The edge perhaps, but he doubted it. “Who is your brother?”

“Aiden Stuart. We are the small clan who lives on the southern edge of the Gordon lands.”

“My friend, the Gordon, assures me his lands run to the hills there.” Declan pointed to the nearby higher ground. “Most of the loch’s edge is part of it.”

She looked from him to the hills and remained quiet. He noticed her teeth were chattering. “Aye, perhaps you are correct. But it’s very close to my brother’s home. I am sure the Gordon would not mind.”

Declan picked up the blanket. “True, I believe he would not. Allow me to assist you, milady.”

“You may put it down and turn away.” She lifted her chin. “I will not prance before you bereft of clothing.”

“May I remind you we may be forced to marry if your brother brings me before the Gordon?” Declan found he enjoyed bantering with her.

“Look away.” Her eyes locked on his until he looked past her. She swam forward and walked toward him. Declan was hard-pressed to maintain his gaze away from her. When she stopped just a yard before him, he lost the battle.

Long, red ringlets cascaded past her shoulders, several falling across her breasts. Centered on the mounds of creamy flesh were berry colored, erect nipples. Her body curved inward to a small waist, flaring to rounded hips and on past to long, well-formed legs.

The smattering of hair atop her sex was also reddish. He fought to breathe at the thought of burying his mouth there.

“I’m cold.” Her words jarred him back to reality. Her face was flushed at his scrutiny, but she didn’t move away.

He embraced her, covering her with the blanket and pulled the shivering woman against him. Her hair smelled of water and flowers. The soft curves against him sent burning trails of desire throughout his body.

“I will warm you, lass.” He ran his hands over her covered form. “Relax against me. That’s it.” Of their own accord, his eyes closed.

Slowly, her shivers subsided but he wasn’t ready to allow her free of his embrace. She looked up to him, her green gaze traveling from his eyes to his mouth. “I am unsure why, but I feel so much when with you. Never before has a man affected me so.”

He took her mouth and once again was astonished at her eagerness. She kissed him in return, her lips pressing hard to his. “Slow down, lass.” He saw to it that she held up the blanket and took her face with both hands. “Now, soften your lips and allow me to kiss you. When you respond, do so without trying.”

“I don’t understand…” he pressed soft kisses to each corner of her mouth and then slowly drew in her bottom lip. When she inhaled sharply, he slid his tongue into her mouth and toyed with hers. She responded by suckling at it. One hand holding the blanket in place, she wrapped the other around his neck and pressed her body against his.

Her response brought his body to life, desire filled him and his length hardened, demanding release against the barrier of clothing.

“Mmmm,” the lass let out a soft sigh when he pulled back. Her eyes opened slowly and she regarded him. “I have never felt so. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Are you unspoiled, lass?” He knew she’d been married to the older man for a few days, but they may not have consummated the marriage. If she were a virgin, he’d not proceed further. Although he’d bedded many women, he’d never deflowered one.

“Nay. I lay with my husband of three days. He died soon after.” Bottom lip between her teeth she blushed. “I shouldn’t share such things with you. But yet, you are correct. We do not know what will happen once my brother brings you before the laird. Still, I will not join with you. I will only do so with my future husband.” Her gaze on his lips belied her words.

“What will you do if the laird and your brother force us to marry?” Declan asked.

“I will run away. I will only marry a man of my own choosing and who, in turn, chooses me, not one who is forced to marry me.” She jutted her chin out and he found it adorable.

“Is that so?”

“Aye. First I will beg the laird to take me on as a maid. I can cook and know herbage well.”

“What if I want to marry you? Would you marry a man with no title, with only a small home and parcel of land to claim?”

Her face softened and the moist lips curved. “As long as I chose to. Aye, I would.”

He lowered to take her mouth with his. She gasped and grabbed his shoulders. Not sure if she planned to push away or pull him closer, Declan suckled at her lips, taking her with great care, not wishing to scare her. It was obvious from her clumsy attempts to kiss him earlier she’d not been kissed well before. He pulled back and waited for her to open her eyes. It was hard not to chuckle when she opened her eyes and studied him. “You are beautiful.”

A blush crept across her face. “Do not lie to me. Allow this moment between us to happen without ruin.”

He wondered why she was so willing to allow his kisses, but at the same time, it was nothing new for a woman to seduce him or allow him to.

She held on to his shoulders and her blanket began to slip. He trailed kisses from her jawline down to the apex of her neck and shoulders and teased her there with the tip of his tongue. Her sharp inhalation a sure sign she enjoyed it. He lifted one of her breasts free of the blanket and took the pert tip into his mouth.

“Oh,” she exclaimed and ran her fingers through his hair. “I fear I will fall.”

“I won’t allow you to.” Declan teased the now hard tip with his tongue and fondled the other beauty with his other hand.

“Relax into me, lass.”

“I cannot stand this. I feel as if I’m about to break to pieces.” Her breathless words made his already hardened member throb with need. “I have never felt such stirrings.”

He slid his hand under the blanket which she held up with one hand and slid his fingers through the center of her sex. The lass trembled and grabbed his shoulders with both hands, not seeming to notice the blanket had fallen to the ground and pooled around their feet. Declan circled the swollen nub of her center with his finger until she began to shake.

When she opened her mouth to cry out, he covered it with his own. No need to bring the attention of anyone that may be out looking for him.

Slowly, he lowered her to the blanket and lay next to her. His hand between her legs, he prodded them a bit apart, then slid a finger into her sex.

“I’m going to make you feel good things today, lass, but will not take you fully. You are not mine as yet.”

Her head moved from side to side when he strummed her center while moving his fingers in and out of her wet tightness. “Oh. Oh. Oh,” she repeated over and over.

Declan covered the breast closest to him with his mouth and lapped at it, taking pleasure in watching her come undone at his ministrations. Finally, she cried out and trembled all over, her legs stretching, toes pointing.

“You are breathing as heavy as I.” She turned to him when she finally settled and her gaze traveled to his bulging sex. “What can I do to bring you pleasure?” Her hand slid from his hip to wrap around his erection. Through the fabric, she caressed him and Declan found himself pushing into her small palm. “That feels good.” His stilted words like those of a young lad almost made him blush.

“Can I do more?” She kissed next to his ear. “Tell me.”

The lass was quite bold for a maiden. He wondered if she did not toy with him. “Aye, there is more.”

He untied his fastenings and freed himself, watching for her reaction. Instead of fear, she moved lower to get a better look. “You are quite large, are you not?”

“Aye, I’ve been told.” Her eyes flashed to his face.

“Have women been able to take it?” She remained serious, her face devoid of humor. “I do not believe I could ever.”

Declan almost laughed. “You can try with your mouth.”

“My mouth?” She seemed to ponder the idea and just as he was about to move away, she pressed a kiss to the head of his cock and then sucked it into her mouth. The lass took to his hardness well, taking him deep and after he guided her hand to stroke him, continued to do so on her own.

“Ahhh.” Declan’s hips thrust forward into her mouth and she allowed him deeper until he could barely maintain control. His ball sack tightened and he pulled out and spilled onto the ground, his body trembling.

“Come to me.” He pulled her against him and held her tightly, enjoying the feel of her delicate plushness against him.

They must have fallen asleep because moments later he heard someone calling out his name. He woke the beauty and helped her to dress in a hurry.

She stretched and looked up at the sky. “Goodness, I must hurry back. Lily must be frantic searching for me.” Her face reddened when their eyes met. “I am not sure what to think about what happened between us just now. I trust you don’t think…”

“Can I see you again?” Declan interrupted and took her hand to keep her from fleeing. “Here in two days?” He didn’t think anything past how fetching she was.

“Aye.” She lifted the basket and hurried away just as Ian rode up.

“Declan, what in the devil have you been doing? We’ve scoured the lands looking for you.” His enraged friend dismounted and stormed to him. “You cannot do this. You are laird now. You have responsibilities.”

Not sure how to respond, Declan shrugged. Apparently it was the wrong thing to do as his friend’s fist connected to his face and he found himself on the ground looking at the sky and Ian’s face hovering over him.

“Get up.” Ian held his fists up ready to battle. “Get your arse off the ground.”

“Nay, I will not fight you. You will probably win. I do not have the added benefit of anger.” Declan rubbed his throbbing jaw. “Would it help if I tell you I will not do so again?”

“No.” Ian stalked away to collect the horses.

Chapter Five

“Who is she?” Ian had calmed considerably on the way back to Moriag. “It was the same woman from the square wasn’t it?”

“Her name is Meredith Stuart. I believe her brother owns the lands to the south.”

“If her brother gets wind of it, he could demand you marry the lass.” Ian’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Have you considered that?”

Declan held up a hand. “I can swear on my life to not have spoiled her. Although she claims not to be a virgin.”

The lowering sun cast long shadows over the land, the cooler evening wind blew bringing Declan to wish for a tartan. A lone deer hurried to the shelter of the woods to find respite for the night. It was the time of day Declan loved most, the settling of the world in anticipation of another day.

“I believe she attempts to forge a marriage by seducing me. Feigns innocence, but then sucks on my cock with much enthusiasm.”

Ian shook his head. “You allowed it knowing her plan? So perhaps she will get her way.”

“Nay. I am not to be forced into such a union. When Aiden Stuart comes to demand restitution, you will stand in my steed. On that day, you will act as laird. She claims to not know who I am, therefore, you can decree her a small amount of silver as restitution to help her brother find her a suitable husband.”

“Your brilliant mind astonishes me.” Ian’s dry remark made Declan chuckle.

Moriag came into view, the gray, stone structure already etched into his heart. Pride at owning it filled him.

The woman he married would rule in the household and in his bed. He’d not be manipulated into a marriage by a wily lass. The picture of Meredith lying in his bed formed and he pushed it away. If she did not lie, he’d not be against a union with her. Of course, if she did, he had to admit being seduced by the beauty had its benefits.

“We have visitors,” Ian spoke, his posture erect, alert. “It looks to be a man with guards.”

Declan narrowed his eyes. “Could it be Stuart already? Go forth, I will go to the stables and await word.”

His friend gave him a flat look. “If I am to pretend to be you, I need a flower in my hair.”

“Ian.”

“Aye, I will save your arse this time. But remember, you will return the favor if ever I require it.”

An hour later, Declan sat at the high board for the first time. The McNeil laird to his left and Ian on the right. The laird came to pay his respects, yet Declan suspected there was another reason for the visit, which would be divulged later.

The McNeil stood tall, his broad form matching Declan’s. With reddish hair made lighter by the candle fire, Declan had to admit he cut a fine figure. He guessed the man to be about ten years his senior. Still, a young laird. It was best to form friendships if the peace were to continue in the region.

Liam McNeil bent his head and leaned close. “I bring a proposition to bind our clans closer. My eldest daughter is of marrying age, soon to be ten and eight. If you are not betrothed, I propose you and she wed.”

“I will consider it and thank you for the kind offer.” Declan was indeed surprised. Uniting with the great Clan McNeil would, indeed, be fortunate.

He relayed the information to Ian who cocked a brow. “That would be a good union. I’d accept if I were you.”

“I prefer not to appear too anxious,” Declan replied and turned back to the McNeil. He raised his glass and got everyone’s attention. “Warm welcomes to Moriag. I thank the McNeil and his men for visiting. Slainte!”

The men in the room returned loud responses and drank heartily.

The night was dark. Clouds converged and it rained hard, making it unmanageable for the McNeils to return home. The guards slept in the great room while the visiting laird was shown to a room upstairs down from Declan’s.

Alone in his chamber, Declan finally had time to think. The move to Moriag was turning out well indeed. He could marry well, form a union with the McNeils which would not only be favorable for him, but for the Gordons of the north as well.

Mind filled with thoughts, he tossed and turned. Sleep eluded him so he left his bed and went to the window to peer out. It was a peaceful place, his new home.

Although he was careful and placed two sentries atop the keep’s walls, it was probably not necessary here. Nonetheless, he continued the tradition his mother and brother set forth. The sentries were proud of their work and appreciated the much-needed income it provided for their families.

Meredith Stuart was, in all probability, upon her bed. Was she alone? Declan dragged his fingers through his hair. Why should he care what the crafty lass did? Then again, if she was, indeed, ignorant of who he was and accepted him thinking he was a poor man, the better she was suited for a wife. Perhaps, instead of wily, she was taking matters in hand and, as she said, sought to marry a man of her choosing.

Of course, none of this mattered if he married the McNeil lass. He groaned at the prospect of marrying a homely woman, whose father was forced to find a husband for. Then again, it could be that she was comely, but without prospects.

There was Aiden Stuart. As far as he’d been told, the young laird was unmarried as well. Why hadn’t the McNeil approach him first? Perhaps he had, but the McNeil’s daughter was so unattractive, Stuart had declined.

Sure he’d not find sleep, he considered finding Awena to warm his bed. Bedsport would, indeed, set things right. The maid was a lusty sort, already having warmed several of his men’s beds.

He stalked to the door and down the stairs and stopped short at spotting the McNeil guards sprawled on the floor, some snoring loudly.

A hound neared and whined softly. He patted the animal’s head. “How about you and I walk about?” The animal’s tail wagged and he took it as a yes.

“You will go with me to the Gordon Keep on the morrow. And that’s final.” Aiden Stuart paced the study, his hair comically standing on end after much finger raking. She’d hoped that he’d changed his mind about the dreaded visit to the Gordon, but it seemed he continued as stubborn as ever.

“I have told you. I will not come with you only to be made a spectacle of, Aiden. I agreed to allow you to see about his willingness to marry, but not for you to go and ask it outright.” Meredith had to admit she’d never seen him so cross. In her opinion, the one who needed marrying was her brother. Perhaps a wife could help his disposition. “I don’t understand your hurry, brother. It was not my fault the man I married died. And you cannot blame me for attempting to find a husband of my choosing.”

“Bah, women don’t get such choices. I will not allow you to marry some peasant who happens upon our village. You will marry well. The Gordon, if I have my way. He is unmarried and is, in all probability, seeking a wife.”

“In all probability? We will not know until we ask. Allow more time to pass, I beg of you. Just a few weeks.” Meredith pictured the light-haired man who traveled with her dark lover. Although handsome as Lily had described, she found her dark-haired lover much more attractive.

“What can you tell me about this stranger you were found with?”

She felt like a dolt for not having asked his name. Instead, she’d been too overcome by his features and attraction to form a coherent thought. “I am sure the man I met is not a peasant, says he is a friend of Laird Gordon. Can you not, at least, considering meeting him?”

“Nay.” By the set of Aiden’s jaw, she knew he’d not see reason. Meredith huffed and went to the door. “You are stubborn beyond words. The new laird, I’m sure, has better prospects than me. He will turn you down, so I will worry only that you will be made a fool.”

Her brother’s mismatched eyes met hers. Rare was the woman who was indifferent to her brother. Handsome features, red-tinged hair and muscular physique meant he rarely lacked companionship. It was speculated he was a Fae’s son, with one green eye and the other closer to amber. Whether it was his eyes or something else, he’d not sought a wife yet. Meredith wished he were as focused on that as on her. If there was another reason for not marrying before her, he would not divulge it. Not to her anyway.

Not willing to put himself in a position to be spurned was more the reason. Yet the stubborn man did not hesitate when it came to her. Aiden huffed. “I am not daft. I will make inquiries first to ensure he would be agreeable.”

She turned to face him. “Will you wait for a few days at least, Aiden? I promised to visit Cousin Fiona who is about to give birth. I cannot accompany you until I return.”

“Very well. But don’t think I will relent.”

“I’m sure you won’t, brother.”

Skirts lifted, she rushed down the stairs and out a door to the side garden. Meredith sunk onto a bench and looked past the gate to the open lands. Plush with green grass, cattle grazed lazily on the hills, while on a side pasture a shepherd hurried his herd forward. Everyone heading home or already settled for the night on Stuart lands.

Once married off, she’d miss her home. Her eyes misted. It wasn’t fair. She wished to remain here, where it was safe. Too short was the respite after her husband had died. Meredith had been convinced she’d be left to live in peace tending to her garden and managing the household.

With the toe of her foot she dug into the dirt as an errant tear trailed down her cheek. Three days, at least she’d bought herself a little bit of time. Perhaps she’d run into the dark-haired stranger again. What occurred between them was so different, so wickedly good. If she could find him again, would it be the same?

She wondered what he did at this time. Did he think of her? What if he considered her a woman of loose morals for so readily accepting his attentions? Truthfully, she’d not been able to think, her mind only on the amazing sensations his touch brought.

On her feet, she moved to the edge of the garden and allowed her tears free rein. It would not do at all. To marry someone she didn’t care for did not bode well. Although the Laird Gordon was fair of face, he was not a good man. To have slept with his own father’s wife meant he’d not hesitate to sleep with women other than his wife.

“Milady?” Lily stood at the doorway and leaned forward. “Is that you?”

“Aye. I’m coming now.” Meredith wiped at her tears and looked to the starless sky. “’Tis a dark night.”

“Surely not a good one to be out alone.” Lily fussed with her shawl and pulled Meredith forward. “Come now. Let’s get inside before you’re pinched by harpies.”

The next day dawned clear and sunny. With an herb basket on her arm, Meredith made her way along the loch’s edge. Her wet hem tugged at her skirts, but she barely noticed, too engrossed was she in finding the cottage the dark-haired man alluded to live in. He’d said not too far from where she stood, but she didn’t make out any type of structure and feared entering the woods which were definitely on Gordon lands. Her cousin had born a healthy baby girl just that morning; her excuse for putting off the visit to Gordon was gone.

A horseman appeared and she moved to stand in the cover of a tree. Her heart leaped in her chest when recognizing the man. He pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted.

He studied the surroundings and then pulled his steed toward the water’s edge.

“Come now, lassie, we must speak.”

Meredith came from her hiding place. “How did you know I was here?”

“I spotted you from a distance.” His lips curved and she could only gape at how handsome he was. How women could fall at the fair laird’s feet and not this man’s was beyond her understanding.

They stood apart from each other and although she wanted nothing more than to be held by him again, Meredith would wait and allow him to come to her.

“I came to think, needed to ponder on what to do. My brother has decided to ask that Laird Gordon marry me and not you. He says you are but a peasant happening through.”

“Is that not a fortunate thing for you and your family if the laird agrees?” His stare was hard, his eyes narrowed as he awaited her reply. Did he think she’d marry someone just because of their station?

“Aye, would be a good thing for my small clan. But I do not wish to marry him. I hear he is a man without honor.” She placed the basket down and crossed her arms. “I will run away first.”

“Without honor? What do you mean?”

She didn’t wish to repeat hearsay, yet how to explain? Meredith considered her words carefully. “It is said he bedded his own father’s wife. Whilst his father lived.”

“Have you told your brother this?” His eyes scanned her face and Meredith felt a trickle of wariness. What happened? This was not the man she’d lain with the day before. The man who smiled and kissed her so heatedly was now a hard, aloof person.

“I have told my brother I do not wish to marry Laird Gordon. As far as the other, it is only rumor. I don’t know it for a fact.” She looked past him. “Aiden said I had no say in the matter.”

He remained silent, not nearing and she realized he would not stand up to her brother or the laird for her. Of course, why should he, they were but mere strangers.

“I must go.” Meredith backed away. “I wish you well.”

The nod of his head was barely perceptible, his eyes not leaving her face. “Farewell.”

Not sure what to make of her encounter with the man who she’d pinned her hopes on, Meredith could only rush back the way she came. Her eyes and throat were as dry as her spirit.

Hopefully the laird would turn them away. She didn’t wish to marry anyone, not the laird, and not the man in the woods any longer.

Chapter Six

“Are you mad?” Ian’s fist hit the top of the table with so much force a goblet fell over, the mead spilling to the floor. “You cannot spurn the McNeil.”

“I am not sure what to do at this moment. Many things cross my mind.”

“Because of the red-haired lass?” Ian hissed lowering his voice as the visiting clansmen entered the room. “You had better find a way to not start the first clan clash in centuries.”

The McNeil hesitated at the back of the room and two women followed behind.

Declan and Ian went to greet him.

The laird motioned the women forward. “May I present my wife, Grisella, and my daughter, Elsbeth.”

The inhalation of breath at the sight of the comely lass with golden hair did not come from him, but from Ian. In turn, Elsbeth barely glanced at Declan, her gaze on his friend. She wore her hair in a thick braid that encircled her head. With a pert nose and large blue eyes, she was quite fetching.

Declan inclined his head and kissed the McNeil’s wife’s hand and then the younger woman’s. “I present my second, Ian McRainey Gordon.”

His friend bowed to the laird and then, in turn, also kissed the women’s hands.

Not wanting to insult the laird, Declan escorted the young lass to the high board and sat her to his right. The laird and his wife settled on his left. Ian on the other side of Elsbeth gave Declan a warning look before settling.

The meal went well. Declan ensured to maintain the conversation on neutral subjects, asking questions about the lands, the harvest and customs. Thankfully, Grisella McNeil enjoyed conversing and rambled non-stop about everything. Elsbeth, on the other hand, rarely spoke a word. Several times, he saw her turn to Ian to speak in soft tones.

His lips curved. Perhaps, he’d stumbled upon a way to save himself from marrying too soon. The McNeil leaned closer. “How many people do you house in this keep?”

“My five guards and Ian, although he owns a home and land of his own as my brother split part of these lands and gave him a smaller portion.”

Coughing sounded as Ian choked on his ale and the guards who overheard turned to the high board, their eyebrows raised.

The McNeil didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he looked to Ian with interest.

Admittedly, after the last conversation with Meredith, he was second-guessing his earlier judgment at not readily accepting a proposition of marriage to the McNeil lass.

He hoped to divert the McNeil’s attention to Ian in case Elsbeth was more interested in him. But he still felt bad at springing something on Ian without first speaking to him. His friend’s flat stare told him that Ian did not appreciate it either.

At the same time, he could be making a mess of things for naught. Meredith seemed genuinely against marrying “Laird Gordon.” Although it could all be part of a plan to confuse him.

What would her response be at finding out he was, in actuality, the man she considered to be of low honor? It was true, up until a few months ago, he cared not who he bedded, be it his father’s wife or not. Honor was not something he’d ever considered necessary unless it had to do with his men.

He never lied to his guardsmen. Once his word was given, they knew to trust it. Women, they were another story. Unfortunately, family had fallen into the same category and, for that, he was genuinely sorrowful. Although his reasons were strong, they did not excuse his actions.

“Ian, have you gone to inspect the cottage on the southern boundary next to the Stuart lands?” Declan hoped his apology was evident in his eyes. He then spoke to Elsbeth. “I think it’s quite comfortable, large enough for a family.”

She lifted a brow, but did not reply. Instead, she looked down at her plate. The lass didn’t seem enthusiastic about making his acquaintance.

“Aye, not too far from where you went earlier. Yer brother used it to retire when he went boar hunting with his men.” Ian’s flat stare did not seem to bode well as far as his acceptance.

“Good.”

“We must speak.” Ian’s warning tone did not dampen his spirit. “About my home.” His friend emphasized the word “my” and glared at him. “I am at a loss of what to do with this new acquisition.”

Several hours later, the great room remained full. Although several of the villagers had left, the guards from both clans remained. Declan had joined his men at their table. The McNeil neared. “May I speak to you in private?”

“Aye, of course.” He motioned the man to chairs in front of the fireplace away from being overheard. “Is everything to your liking, Laird?”

“I wish to know your response. You’ve had time to think on it and have now seen my daughter.” Although he seemed relaxed, Declan could see tightness around his mouth. The laird was not keen on marrying off the lass. No doubt his wife pressured him into it.

“What are your daughter’s feelings on the subject?” he asked. Astonishment crossed the McNeil’s face. “Is she willing to marry me?”

“She will do as told. Although she is headstrong, Elsbeth agrees her time for marriage and children is at hand.”

Declan glanced to see that Ian walked about the room, the fair Elsbeth on his arm. Her face was animated, as he seemed to regale her with one of his exaggerations no doubt. “She is fair, I am not against marrying, but ask that you give me time. Perhaps she can remain as my guest for a few days, with her maid, of course.”

“Of course.”

Chapter Seven

The Gordon property loomed ahead. The gray, stone structure was much bigger than her own home. Meredith took in the surrounding land. Quite familiar with the area and some of the villagers, she didn’t feel a stranger upon riding through. Now, however, about to enter the courtyard, she did. Never had she been there before, nor expected to come.

Aiden sat tall in his saddle, his eyes moving to her every once in a while. “It is not to your death that you’re headed. Try not to look as though.”

It was hard to bite back a retort, but she did. She could not accuse Aiden of mistreatment or of being a bad brother. He’d been more than patient with her and given her every freedom. Now at twenty, she was well past marrying age. Although she’d hoped for a love match when the second chance at marriage presented itself, it was understandable that he not give her more time.

With a resolved sigh, she squared her shoulders and held her head high. It was not the time to show any kind of weakness. She was a proud Stuart. Spine straight, she followed slightly behind her brother’s steed into the courtyard.

Young lads came forward to greet them and hold the horses whilst she and her brother dismounted. The guardsmen moved to stand behind them as they waited for the laird’s appearance.

A lone guard walked towards them. Of fine form with broad shoulders and dark eyes, he looked every bit a warrior.

His eyes focused on her for only a second before his attention went to her brother. “Welcome to Moriag. I am Dugan Gordon, cousin to the laird.” He gave a slight bow and waited for introductions.

Aiden returned the head bow. “Aiden Stuart, Laird of Torraibh. May I present my sister, Meredith.”

The man’s lips curved when he regarded her. “Follow me inside, please.” The warrior turned and walked, assuming they’d follow.

The interior of Moriag Keep shocked Meredith. The décor and beauty of the furnishings were all in good taste. Several bright tapestries hung on the walls, each depicting colorful themes of hunts and foliage.

She was not surprised to find they were amongst several families seeking audience with the new laird.

The golden-haired devil sat upon the high board presiding over the room like a royal. He seemed to grow more annoyed with each passing minute, his gaze constantly going to the doorway, as if expecting someone to enter and rescue him from the room. Because of Aiden’s social standing, they were escorted to the front of the room and were given two seats. The laird’s gaze went to them, but only for a moment, as he listened to a dispute between two farmers.

Finally it was Aiden’s turn. Meredith’s face burned with humiliation at her brother’s request being spoken out loud for all to hear. Village folks mingled in the room, curious glances moving from her to Aiden and then to the laird.

“My Laird,” Aiden began. “I am Aiden Stuart, Laird of Torraibh, and this my sister, Meredith. I come to pledge my family’s allegiance to yours.”

Meredith inhaled, not wanting to roll her eyes at the formalities of men. Both males knew neither would save the other from any type of danger. Unless, of course, it benefited them in some way.

The laird looked at her with open curiosity. “I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, lass.”

“Laird.” She curtsied and the laird bowed his head in acknowledgement.

His next words saved her the humiliation she’d been dreading. “Please join me for mead and the evening meal.” The laird motioned for several maids to come forth, as well as a guard who announced the hearings for the day were over. Several families were invited to remain for the meal along with two men who she recognized as village farmers.

Aiden gave her a puzzled look. “Interesting, he invites us to sup without first hearing what we come for?”

“You just pledged your loyalty, so perhaps he wishes to ask something of you in return.”

Just as she and Aiden settled at the high board, to the left of the laird, Elsbeth McNeil entered the room. She was escorted to sit on the right side of Laird Gordon and Meredith pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. So there was competition for the laird’s attentions. She’d make sure not to put much effort into getting to know the man. Aiden, as always, read her mind and leaned forward to glare at her.

“Lady Stuart, I take it you know our guest, Lady McNeil?” The laird motioned to the woman who nodded at Meredith in acknowledgement.

“Hello, Elsbeth.” They’d met before, but Elsbeth had always been a quiet girl, rarely leaving her keep.

Elsbeth smiled in return, then turned her attention to the laird beside her.

Unfortunately, Aiden would not be put off. “Are you forming a union with the McNeils?”

The man to her left looked at them with raised eyebrows. “Ah, yes, you arrived late. You missed my introduction. I am not Laird Gordon, but his second. I am Ian McRainey Gordon.”

“As far as our laird, Declan Gordon, he has not decided on what he will do.” Ian leaned closer in order to keep from being overheard. “You never did voice your request, Aiden.”

“I seek a husband for my sister.” To her mortification, Aiden did not whisper, but spoke evenly. Thankfully, only a couple heads turned their way.

Elsbeth cleared her throat.

Ian McRainey’s eyes met hers for a beat. “I will speak to the laird. I believe he is aware of your sister. Has made her acquaintance. He mentioned as much to me after seeing her at the town square.”

“I’ve met him?” Meredith searched her mind attempting to remember who could have been the laird. The only men she remembered were Ian and her lover, who told her he lived at the edge of the woods. There was a younger man she’d noticed near a vendor’s cart, but had discarded for his youth. She didn’t remember the young boy being overly handsome, nor would think he was even old enough to lay with his stepmother. “I apologize, but I do not remember.”

Ian frowned. “I cannot explain more to you. Declan should return shortly and, perhaps by then, things will clear up. Why don’t you remain here for another two days, as my guest? You can keep Elsbeth company.”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

Aiden, curse him, interceded. “Of course, my sister will remain. I will have her maid come and bring her changes of clothing.”

He moved his leg anticipating her kick and she missed.

Ian must have informed Elsbeth because she overheard her question him, her voice slightly higher than normal, the woman replied to him. “Aye, of course, that would be lovely.”

The McNeil lass leaned forward and looked to her. “Two women under the same roof. And we are both here for the same reason.” She lifted a brow and looked to Ian McRainey who shifted in his seat.

Meredith smiled back, liking Elsbeth’s spunk. “I am not sure what the men plan, but it could prove interesting, at least.”

When Aiden took her arm in an attempt to quiet her, she ignored him. “Now Mr. McRainey, is there an interesting story you can tell us about your laird?”

Upon learning the man present was not the laird, Meredith found herself enjoying his company. He called Dugan over who in turn regaled them with stories of growing up with his cousins, the Gordons, and learning to hunt and fish alongside Declan Gordon, who seemed to have a penchant for getting into trouble.

The opportunity did not come for Meredith to learn why he was not present, nor was she able to glean anything other than the fact that Ian McRainey and the other men present both respected and admired the laird.

Aiden made to leave too soon and she tried one last time to convince him to take her home. As she expected, he’d already sent a guard to retrieve her belongings because at the doorway stood Lily with a bundle and a huge smile.

“’Tis a grand place is it not, milady?” Lily trailed behind her as the housekeeper and cook, Pat, showed her to the chambers.

“Indeed. Yet, I hope to not remain longer than necessary.”

Chapter Eight

It had been a grand day. Declan arrived home late from hunting, dirty and happy. Both he and his guard had killed several pheasants and rabbits. They placed them in the kitchen and he ordered a bath.

Ian would be angry with him for not being present all day, but he needed the time away to think. Admittedly, he was not positive of his decision yet or how he felt regarding Meredith and Elsbeth.

Pat bustled forward and directed the lads to fill his tub behind a partition in the large kitchen. “I’ve brought clean clothes, Laird. Edan comes now to assist you.”

“Thank you, Pat. Is there anything of importance I should know before I seek my bed?”

“Only that the Stuart lass is here. Mister Ian invited her to remain for a visit as she and her brother came to seek audience with you.”

Declan almost jumped from the bath. “Is that so?”

“Aye, Laird. Her brother spoke loudly stating he sought a husband for her. The poor lass’ face was bright red with mortification.”

Moments later, he crept along the hall toward the room where Meredith slept. Upon opening it, the chamber door creaked loud enough to make him cringe. The interior was dark. She laid upon the center of the bed, sprawled out, fast asleep, the blankets kicked off. A quick search of the room told him her maid had either not come or was sleeping downstairs.

“Beauty?” He leaned over her and kissed her. “Awaken.”

“What?” Her eyes flew wide and she took him in. “How did you get in here?”

“Just returned from hunting and had to bring my kill to the kitchens. I was told you were here.” He was fully aware of omitting details that could prove to be his undoing once she found out who he was. “Allow me in your bed.”

She sat up and looked to the closed door. “Are you mad? What if they come in?”

“They won’t.” Without waiting for her response, Declan dropped his tartan and climbed onto the bed next to her. “Allow me to lay with you for a few moments. I will slip away before anyone can know I was here.”

He trailed his fingers from her neck to the top of her breasts. “Have you not wondered what it would be like? For us to join?” He pressed a kiss to her neck and she inhaled sharply. “To allow me to fill you? Say yes.” His hand moved to cup her breast.

Hesitant at first, she fully succumbed when he pulled her against him and trailed his tongue from her ear to her shoulder. “Allow me to love you, beauty.”

“Wait.” She pushed him back. “I don’t even know your name.”

How to tell her without ruining the moment. “My first name is Murrough.”

“Murrough,” she repeated looking into his eyes. “It suits you.”

Not giving her any other opportunity to speak he covered her mouth with his and thrust his tongue past her parted lips. Meredith clung to his shoulders, her body shivering. She wasn’t cold. It was want that made her quiver.

The thin nightshift was easy to slide upwards. His fingers trailing over the silky skin and she moaned when he continued the trek moving to between her legs. His hand fit between them and he cupped her warm and moist sex.

Meredith wanted to stop the madness. God, the repercussions that could come from this assignation with Murrough, friend to the laird who her brother wanted her to marry.

But by the same God, she would rather die than stop him. Her body demanded release, did not waiver in its relentless pursuit of whatever was to come.

His large hand pushed her legs apart and his fingers moved up and down the center of her very core. “Ah!” Meredith bit her lip to keep from making more noise, but the delicious sensations were too wonderful to keep within.

“Pull your nightshift off,” he demanded while his mouth traveled over her skin.

Once the clothing was removed, he took to her breasts. Suckling one, then the other. The soft sounds of his mouth along with their breathing flowed in the darkness. She raked her fingers through his thick, wet hair. He’d recently bathed. He smelled clean and fully male.

Murrough’s attention went to her other breast, his pointed tongue circling the tip of it at the same time his fingers slipped into her.

“Oh.” Meredith bucked into this hand just as his thumb flicked the swollen center of her sex. Stars formed behind her eyelids and she grabbed his shoulders to regain control. It was to no avail. She floated, then flew higher, her body shattering.

His weight upon her brought Meredith closer to reality until his thick cock pushed in where his fingers had vacated. Bit by bit, he moved with a slowness so maddening she grabbed his hips and pulled. “I want you fully in me.” Meredith was crazy with want, not sure how to tell him to hurry, to move faster, to plunge.

“What do you want me to do, beauty?”

“Fast…faster…take me.” Her words were barely audible past her gasps. “Now.”

“As you wish.” He drove forward, not stopping until they were fully joined. Her breath of relief was followed by a loud inhalation when he pulled out and moved back in. On and on, he thrust, taking her to sensations beyond belief. Meredith no longer cared if she screamed or not, wasn’t sure what happened other than knowing if he ever stopped she would die.

“I am lost in you beauty.” Murrough pulled her arms over her head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Lift your hips, wrap your legs about me.”

She quickly obeyed and was rewarded with him deeper yet. The sounds of their flesh meeting again and again was joined by both of them crying out as she, once again, tumbled into oblivion and he collapsed over her, his body quaking.

Moments later, they lay together limbs entwined. Meredith dared not speak. The night should never end. If only he could belong to her always. In her mind, she went over different ways to ask him to allow her to run away to his home. To stand up to her brother and to the laird. But every time she opened her mouth she could not say the words out loud. It was he who should be asking her to go away with him.

“Roll away, I want to take you from behind.” Murrough brought her hand down to encircle his hardened shaft. “I am wanting you again.”

Meredith’s heartbeat accelerated. It was to be their one and only night. After the laird arrived, her future was uncertain. Her mind was made up, tonight she would enjoy the wonders Murrough taught her. She rolled to her stomach and he moved behind her.

“Lift your hips. That’s it.” Murrough’s tongue flicked at her entrance, while his fingers caressed her nub until she pushed back with her arms. “Impatient, are you?”

He rubbed the head of his cock from her rear to her entrance. He drove in, his large hands holding her hips steady. “Fast or slow?”

“I don’t know.” Meredith rocked on her knees. “You fill me so completely.”

The movements started off slow but within moments his body pounded into hers. The world shifted and Meredith pushed her face into the linens and cried out. Murrough continued the wonderful assault, not at his peak yet. Loud grunts from deep in his throat collided with her muffled mews.

“Come with me.” He played with her sex and strummed between her legs until she shattered, milking him to release.

Murrough’s deep cry made her fall apart and darkness fell.

“Milady?” Lily’s face hovered over hers. “Are you unwell? ’Tis past time to rise.”

Meredith jerked awake, her wide eyes taking in the bed. She was alone. No sight of a night visitor. “Oh, goodness. I must not be late for breaking my fast. Have the others already descended?”

“Aye.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I caught a peek at the laird. He is here. I couldn’t get a good look as he walked past just as I came to find ye.”

“Is he here then?” Her heart tumbled. “Lily, did you see the dark-haired man from in town?”

Lily gave her a curious look. “Aye, he is here.”

Meredith’s breath stopped and, for a moment, she wondered if what she imagined could be. “How was he dressed?”

“Who, milady?”

“The man from town.”

“When I saw him first, he looked to have just awoken. With hair all over, he hurried down the hall to a room on the end.” Lily tsked. “He was not wearing much of anything. His tartan pulled about his waist.” The maid helped pull her simple frock on over her head. “Of course, that was earlier when I came to look in on ye.”

Unsure of what to expect and if she could keep herself from giving away her feelings if she came face to face with Murrough and the laird in the same room, Meredith trudged behind Lily down the stairs to the great room.

At her first scan of the room, she didn’t spot Murrough. Upon the high board sat Ian McRainey and Elsbeth, both in deep conversation. Next to Ian, a large dark-haired man sat, turned from her. The laird. She looked to where the guards were seated and Murrough was not there either.

“Please join us,” Ian McRainey called to her and one of the guards stood and escorted her to the high board. She came to stand before the laird and curtsied. “Laird Gordon, I am Meredith Stuart of Torraibh.”

At the deep voice, she almost toppled over. “I believe we have met.”

She looked up to Murrough’s solemn eyes, feeling her own widen. The guard took her arm and walked her to sit at Murrough’s left side. If not for every set of eyes on her, she would have raced from the room.

How was it possible? Murrough was Declan Gordon?

Astonishment gave way to rage.

Chapter Nine

The paleness of Meredith’s complexion made Declan wonder if she would faint.

He motioned for a maid to bring her a tray of cheeses and breads to choose from and poured mead into a cup for her. He spoke in a low tone. “Are you angry with me?”

“I am not.” She waved the tray away. “What I am has no words.” Her darkened green eyes met his. “Your name is not Murrough, I take it.”

“My full name is Murrough Declan McRainey Gordon.”

“You omitted what you are called.” She gritted out, not touching her mead either. “I wish to go home as soon as possible.”

“Your brother agreed to you remaining a few days.” Declan wasn’t sure what to do. Now upon seeing how hard she tried to control her anger, he realized that, perhaps, he’d pushed her too far. It was obvious she did not know who he was. Meredith had not been out to trap him. “We should talk.”

“I do not wish to speak with you, Laird. What I wish is to never set eyes upon you again.” Her beautiful face became flushed and she stood. “If you will excuse me, I find I am not feeling well.” She nodded at Ian and Elsbeth.

Declan stood. “Allow me to escort you for fresh air.”

“I prefer to go alone,” she hissed, but he ignored her and took her arm, which she yanked out of his grasp.

“Allow me.” Ian stood and rounded him, giving him a knowing look. “Perhaps you should remain and get to know Elsbeth.”

He sat and watched helplessly as his best friend walked out with Meredith. He’d made a huge mistake. It was obvious up until that moment Meredith had no idea who he was.

“Something has happened between the two of you?” Elsbeth leaned forward, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, Ian and I have been friends for a long time, but he still annoys me to no end.” Declan attempted to distract her.

“Not Ian. I spoke of Lady Stuart.”

“I believe the lady dislikes me.”

“What I saw on her face was not dislike. What I saw was a deep hurt.” Elsbeth picked up a piece of cheese and plopped it into her mouth. “Whatever you did, it will be a long time before she will be willing to speak to you.”

The blonde lass seemed to enjoy his discomfort. A playful, impish smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she awaited his reply. A perfect woman for Ian. He was sure they were attracted to each other. Of course, it would not come to pass unless her father agreed, which would be hard since Ian was not titled.

“I lied to her,” he admitted. “About who I was. She thought me a simple farmer. You would think she’d be glad to finally realize who I am.”

Her eyes narrowed. “To realize you are a liar laird? Why would that make her glad?”

The impact of her words made him flinch. “You are correct. Excuse me, Lady McNeil. I see Ian heads back.” He stood, not sure where to go. At the moment, it was probably best to give Meredith some time.

“How is she?” Declan met Ian halfway from the entryway. “Will she remain?”

“I don’t believe she will. She’s asked for a messenger to send for guardsmen to escort her back. Refused our own.” Ian scratched at his jaw. “She was close to tears, but held them back. She’s a brave lass.”

“I’ve made a mess of things. The McNeil lass just called me a liar. I imagine she’ll be leaving next.”

Declan let out a deep breath. “What should I do? I am too foolish to be laird, have shirked my responsibilities. Lied to the one woman I want more than any and now look bad in the eyes of the McNeil’s daughter, who will, no doubt, report back to her father.”

His friend’s eyes were warm when meeting his. “There have been too many changes so soon after becoming laird. I will speak to Elsbeth and ensure she keeps her opinion of you to herself. You have months to regain control as laird. As far as Lady Meredith, I suggest you give her time before attempting to speak to her.”

“You said her brother is eager to marry her off. What if he moves forward with it?”

“Perhaps you can meet with the brother and tell him to give Meredith time. Explain your intentions. If you have them.” Ian waited for his reply.

“I have intentions.”

“Of marriage?”

“Of what else would they be?” he snapped.

“With you, I’m not always so sure.” Ian chuckled and went to seek out Elsbeth.

The following weeks passed quickly. Declan gained new insight into what his father and brother now did. A laird was, above all, responsible for doing right by the people and was looked upon to be so. He learned to listen to those who brought grievances before him and considered both sides before making a decision. He took long walks to clear his head and ponder over the best ways to ensure the people of the surrounding lands were taken care of and would be fed and housed for the upcoming winter season.

One afternoon, the cold wind brushed his face as he stood atop the keep and looked down to the loch. It had been two months since he’d seen Meredith. Thankfully, her brother had given his word not to seek a husband for her as yet. He’d convinced Aiden Stuart that he’d like to court Meredith two months hence after ensuring all was well with his land and people. Now that time was up. He was nervous at how she’d receive him.

True, she had little say in marrying him, but he was not one to force a woman into marriage. If he’d learned anything, he knew an unhappy union brought many days of annoyance and bitterness on both ends.

His brother’s marriage was what he wanted. The two were deeply in love and brightened at the sight of the other.

Hopefully he’d not made such a mess of things with Meredith that a chance at love was beyond repair.

A young man made his way toward him, a missive in hand. He was breathing hard from a hurried trip it seemed. “Laird Gordon, I bring a message from the Stuart.”

He unrolled the parchment and read over the hurried writing. Meredith was gone.

Declan took off at a run toward the stables. “Dugan! Ian!”

Chapter Ten

As the jostling of the wagon combined with anxiety, her stomach threatened to upheave. Meredith attempted to swallow past the gag in her mouth and was immediately sorry when her throat seized up and she began coughing until her eyes watered.

Her mind in a million directions, she prayed that Lily was all right. The poor maid had fought valiantly, trying until the very end to keep ahold of her. One of her abductors had pushed the hapless maid off the edge of the wagon when Lily refused to let go of Meredith’s foot. Lily screamed and then lay motionless in the middle of the road as they rode away.

From what glimpses she caught of the men who spoke in gruff tones, they looked like Norse. People of the north distinct by their light coloring, blond hair and light-colored eyes were well known to be ruffians and murderers. They spoke in a tongue she’d never heard. It sounded like short sentences and harsh tones.

Why had they targeted her? She’d never met anyone from their land, nor did she think Aiden did. It was rumored that these savages pillage seaside townships, killing men and raping any woman in sight. She almost wished they’d done so, and left her behind, not taken her to do who knew what with. Now they rode into the distance and surely Aiden would have no idea where to find her.

The wagon swayed and she fell to the side. The horseman behind rode forward past the side of the wagon and she scooted closer to the edge. The first chance possible, she’d jump and attempt to get away. The odds were against her, but she had to try. Even with her small dirk in her boot, there was little chance she could fight off six men. Meredith squared her shoulders and focused on the horizon. They’d not kill her easily; she’d struggle against her captors every step of the way.

Just as she neared the edge, they came to a stop. The sun was setting in the distance and she caught sight of a small stream.

One of the men dragged her from the wagon and led her to a small clearing. He motioned to the ground and grunted a command. “Go.”

Did he really expect her to relieve herself in front of him? Meredith shook her head. Even if she wanted to, it would be impossible with her hands bound as they were. He seemed to realize this and untied her hands, then once again repeated the signals.

She looked past him to where the other men were. They were talking in low tones, not paying them any mind. The man before her seemed to grow irritated and proceeded to squat and demonstrate what he meant for her to do. Finally he turned his back, but looked over his shoulder in warning.

Humiliated, Meredith did what she had to do and pulled her dirk from her boot. When she straightened he moved toward her and she struck upward with her blade. The man was too fast for her. He grabbed her arm and twisted it until pain radiated to her shoulder. Meredith had no choice but to drop her weapon.

In anger, she kicked him in the leg. He swore and shoved her back to the wagon. The others laughed when she took off running. As expected, he quickly caught up with her, grabbed her around the waist and threw her onto the ground. Straddling her, he bound her hands again and pulled her to stand.

When he shoved her to sit on a tree stump, the other men began talking in rapid tones, jovial and laughing, while her captor scowled in response. It seemed he was his charge as none of the others dared to come near her, barely glanced at her.

Meredith studied the man who now held a wineskin up and motioned for her to be quiet. He was large, they all were, but he was different than the others. Bearded, with a scar that ran across his cheek, he still managed to be handsome. His piercing, blue eyes met hers and she recoiled.

There was hatred in his gaze, pure rage. The corner of the devil’s lips curved, the smile one of knowing. She’d seen exactly how he felt.

He removed her gag and she let out a scream. Hopefully, someone was nearby and overheard her. Gruff hands covered her mouth and he said something that sounded like a curse. Once again, he lifted the wineskin with one hand while covering her mouth with the other. She nodded and he removed his hand. Meredith screamed again and this time he gagged her. The men began talking in rapid spurts and rushed around the area to ensure no one came.

She struggled when he threw her over his shoulder. Her mouth was dry and, truthfully, she was so very thirsty. But survival was more important than a drink of whatever they offered. He stalked to the wagon and none-so-gently plopped her down.

Moments later, a different man came to her. She followed his every move, not looking away when he narrowed his eyes. Unlike the other man, this one terrified her. He placed the wineskin on the wagon, then shoved her to her back. Meredith was unable to struggle when he straddled her. She prayed he didn’t kill her for screaming.

The man placed a knife at her throat and removed the gag, then shoved the wineskin into her mouth. The liquid was delicious, cool, and wet and she drank greedily until he removed it quickly replacing the cloth back into her mouth.

He turned to signal the others and she saw two horsemen ride away, one of them the blue-eyed devil. What happened now?

Alone in the back of the wagon while the four remaining men seemed to gather their horses, despair filled her. Would she ever see her home again? Aiden? Did he attempt to find her? If so, would he even know where to look?

What of Declan? Had he been notified? Did he even care?

For weeks, he’d attempted to see her and she’d rebuffed him, sending away messengers and returning any gifts he’d sent. In truth, she’d began to soften and planned to accept the next request.

Declan had chosen to give her time although he didn’t have to wait, did not have to ask for her forgiveness. After all, he and Aiden had already come to an agreement, she was to marry Declan Gordon whether she accepted or not.

In a missive he’d ordered read out loud so she’d been forced to listen to the words, the messenger stated that Declan had not disclosed his identity because he wanted to be sure she cared for him as a person and not for who he was; a laird.

The truth was, she not only cared for him, but through his actions he’d earned her love. She’d spent so many sleepless nights reliving their night together. His touches upon her body, the way they’d joined together as one, the heights to which he’d taken her. And now it was over. She’d never see him again and reveal that she more than cared, but was in love him.

Taking one last chance to escape, Meredith pushed from the back of the wagon and fell to the ground and rolled a couple times before coming to a stop with a thud. She struggled to her feet and raced away. It was hard to run with her hands bound and with her mouth gagged, it was hard to breathe, but she pressed on. A few yards forth, she saw a farm in the distance and ran toward it.

Shouts sounded. They’d realized she’d gone. Meredith spun to the left and scurried to hide behind rocks. Hopefully, they’d not see her and go in a different direction. She waited, barely able to hear beyond the hard beats of her heart and harsh breathing. After a few moments, she peered and didn’t see anyone, so she lifted to her feet and took off at a run again.

Meredith prayed for God’s intervention, that he make her invisible to them. Tackled from behind, she slammed forward onto the ground and lost her ability to breathe. The Norseman turned her over and backhanded her across the face, shouting in anger. Her jaw throbbed and her gag slipped. She scrambled away from him and screamed as loud as she could while barely catching her breath.

His fist came down toward her face and she managed to shift enough to avoid the hit. He lost his balance to the side as she bucked from under him.

The pounding of horse hooves announced that, in all probability, the others came and, once again, she’d be taken prisoner and carted to wherever they went. Meredith shrieked and kicked at the man. He took her by the hair and slapped her so hard her teeth rattled. Darkness threatened and she fought it.

To the very end. Her mind demanded. Keep fighting. She kicked at him, but missed and fell when he loosened his grip on her hair.

Unable to get back up, sobs racked her injured body and she accepted defeat. Heartbroken, Meredith let go and allowed unconsciousness to draw her in.

Chapter Eleven

The pounding of the horse’s hooves on the ground echoed though his body. Declan leaned forward almost lying on the horse’s back as they raced towards the small group that scrambled atop horses. He spotted one man with a burden over his shoulder. It was Meredith. Hands bound, her hair trailing past the man’s thighs, she was limp. Passed out or injured, but she was alive. If not, they’d not carry her, but leave her behind in their haste to escape.

Determined not to allow them to get away, he pressed his mount faster. Aiden beside him did the same. After Aiden’s missive, they’d followed the markings the abductors left. They were obviously not familiar with the lands and had not traveled with much care, constantly stopping and leaving an easy trail to follow. They’d split upon spotting two riding without other companions, Dugan and Ian going after them in case they would lead them to Meredith. But he’d followed his instincts with her brother, feeling the larger party would most likely have her.

Aiden had not explained the reason for what happened. It was evident his sister’s taking was not a coincidence.

They were gaining ground now and Declan drew his sword. Two of the riders turned and faced them, weapons held high.

The clash between them was short but bloody. The outlanders were rudimentary in their fighting, making up for their lack of skill with sheer brute force and determination. Declan’s opponent fell to the ground and he returned to the chase again, not waiting to see what happened with Aiden. Within seconds, Meredith’s brother caught up. “They head toward Mackenzie lands. I trust they are stopped once sentries catch sight of them.” Aiden grunted and tore through the trees, not waiting for his reply.

Finally they caught sight of the group and Meredith thrown across the horse remained limp. They closed the gap and the man who carried Meredith shoved her to the ground. Aiden let out a loud growl and attacked. On the ground, she lifted a hand to her face relieving him of any doubt that she lived. Declan rushed head-on to attack the men.

Meredith shifted and groaned. Her ribs ached at the intake of breath. Wherever she was, it was time to face it. It was a good sign she didn’t feel the sway of the ocean. Hopefully, it meant she was still on land.

The light that streamed in from the window was quite bright. It was at least the middle of the day. On a chair against the wall, Declan Gordon slept, his legs sprawled before him, his head angling to the left. On his lap was a leather bound book of sorts, telling he’d been there for a while and needed something to occupy his time. His hair was longer than she remembered, touching his broad shoulders and his jawline was darkened with a beard.

Surely he’d not had her abducted. The room did not look familiar. Did not resemble the chamber she’d stayed in before while at his keep. But then again, she’d only seen the one chamber she’d slept in.

No, he’d not kidnapped her. There was no reason for him to go to those lengths to take her. Aiden had already agreed to their marriage. Unless her spurning his incessant pleas had driven him mad to the point of it.

She eyed the doorway. It was cracked open, just enough to slip through. Meredith inched to the side of the bed and gingerly placed one foot then the other onto the floor. A soft snore caused her to freeze in place. Declan inhaled deeply and his mouth moved, but he continued sleeping.

How handsome he was. For the first time in her life, she was in awe of the beauty of a man. His elegant, but large, hand lay atop his book and she wondered if, perhaps, she’d made a mistake. It was an incredible notion to believe he was her kidnapper.

Pain shot though her legs when she stood and she fell back onto the bed. “Declan?”

Heavily lashed eyes met hers. He straightened in the chair and stretched, causing the tome to fall to the floor. The thud of the book was the only sound while he took her in, his eyes scanning her face and down to where her feet dangled over the edge of the bed. “Did you mean to escape?”

“Am I in your home?” she asked in return, not about to admit her intentions. “Aiden? Where is he?”

“You are in Moriag. Do you wish for something to drink?” He stood and moved to a table that held a pitcher and goblets, not waiting for her reply. In truth, her throat was dry, her stomach grumbled, but it was more important to find what happened to Aiden.

“My brother?”

“He’s gone.”

Meredith gasped, not taking the goblet Declan held out. “What do you mean? Did he die while trying to rescue me?” Her chest constricted as she waited his reply.

“Nay. Your brother is not dead. He’s gone after whoever the leader of the group was. Told me he had matters to see to and ensure you are not in danger in the future.”

“Is that why I’m here?”

His eyes narrowed and he studied her for several moments. “Your brother feels that you are safer under my protection, yes.”

“I don’t understand.” Meredith met his narrowed eyes. Suspicion hung in the air as they locked gazes. “Why do you look at me that way?”

“What did your brother do before taking the helm of Torraibh? What causes men from the north to come and seek you out to capture and take?”

She’d asked herself the same questions the day before. Was it possible this all had something to do with Aiden? “He took to the seas. For the crown…during the war.”

“And made enemies it looks like.” Declan seemed to relax as he pushed the drink into her hands. “Drink. I will ask a meal be brought to you.”

“I wish to go home. I need to see about Lily.”

“Your maid was sent for, if that’s who you refer to. She should arrive shortly. You cannot leave. Your brother will not return for at least a week.”

It was hard to ignore his well-built form as he went to the doorway and spoke to someone. Her eyes raked from his broad back to his taut bottom and, lastly, to his well-formed legs. If she were to remain in Moriag, it wouldn’t be long before he’d grace her bed.

“Is this to be my chamber then?” She looked to see a large trunk at the foot of the bed and a sizeable wardrobe against a far wall. “It’s quite nice.”

“This is where you will remain from now forth. It is my chamber.”

“You plan to sleep here?” She swallowed at the thought of spending so many nights with someone not her husband. Yes, she’d been with him before, but somehow this felt very different. “I ask that you restore me to the other smaller chamber.”

“You continue to rebuff me, I see. Have not forgiven me as yet.” His expression was unreadable, the word spoken without inflection. “I have sinned against you and others and for that I am truly sorry. The stories are true I lay with my father’s wife, something I am not proud of. Even if she was much younger than my father, there is no excuse. I should not have kept the truth to myself in my dealings with you.” He moved to the window and peered out. As he spoke again, Meredith studied his profile, the elegant nose and sensual lips. “It would be preferable that you not dislike me so before marrying, but it looks as if fate has matters in hand.”

“What do you mean?”

Color crept up his face. Declan studied his boots for a moment in a rare show of low confidence in such a formidable man. “We are to be wed as soon as you are well enough. Your brother has sent for a priest to come in a few days. The clan and townspeople have been notified.”

Meredith smoothed the bedding. “Come sit. Tell me what happened between you and your father’s wife.”

It was strange to see the normally self-assured man drawing in, seeming to fear what he was about to divulge to her. “You won’t understand.”

“I will do my best. If I am to be your wife, I want to know everything about you, Declan.”

His stunning eyes met hers for a moment and he finally sat, his legs straight, shoulders rounded, hands clasped between his legs. “I was only ten and five when they came the first time. My da brought her. Me own mother not long dead. I didn’t understand what happened, but knew it was wrong. She took me, while he watched. I hated how he watched us while his hand disappeared beneath his own kilt.”

Although his voice was even, as if he were speaking of something long held in, pain radiated from him. Meredith kept from touching him, allowing him to talk.

“At first they only came once in a long while, but then she came alone. I knew my da didna know. I feared he’d find out and beat me. Or scar me across the face like he did Carrick, so I remained silent. The years passed. I should have sent her away after my father stopped coming and I became older, but in a way, it was my revenge. To cuckold my own da after he’d forced his wife on me when I was but a young lad.”

Jaw tense, he sat silent. Meredith’s heart softened. He’d been judged so unfairly when, in actuality, he’d not been given a choice, not at first. Later, she supposed, it was something that could not be undone.

“I’m so sorry, Declan. But you must understand you are not to blame.”

His pointed look bored into her eyes. “Not at first perhaps, but I kept allowing it after I was old enough to send her away.”

“Yes, you should have. You didn’t. There’s nothing to be done about it now. Do you still wish to bed her?”

“What?” His mouth fell open and then he exhaled. “No. Never again. After Da died, I never touched her again.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “The past should be left there. Thank you for telling me.”

Chapter Twelve

Declan paced while Ian sat back in a chair and drank from his cup. “I don’t know whether to trust this is a good idea or not,” he repeated once again. “What do you advise, Ian?”

“You’ve given your word. You must marry the lass. The McNeil was dealt with and does not feel rebuffed after learning you had little choice in the matter of marrying Meredith Stuart. I convinced him her brother forced the issue after finding you’d seduced her.”

The fire in the hearth sent warmth into the room, the flames dancing side to side in a calming rhythm. With a resigned sigh he sunk into the chair opposite Ian. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m puzzled,” Ian said, his brows drawn. “I thought you and the lass were already lovers. Why are you so reluctant to marry?”

“My father’s marriage was not a love match. You saw how easy it was for his wife to seek relations elsewhere. She crawled into others’ beds only days after marrying my father who could not, according to her, quench her needs. Meredith has rebuffed my attempts to court her for weeks. Even now…” he motioned toward the ceiling, “her first action at waking was to attempt escape. I would prefer not to enter in to a marriage where my wife would prefer the company of another man.” The irony of his situation was not lost on him. It would be the price he’d pay for his past actions. Although his father mistreated his wife, and he had a hand in it, he should have stopped it.

“Did you speak with her? What was it like?” Ian asked.

“In truth, yes, we spoke of certain things. She, however, never indicated whether she wishes to marry me or not. Accepts that we are to marry. When the maid comes with her meals, she eats and then promptly falls asleep. Meredith is still recovering.”

His friend looked downward in thought. “And there is the matter of her brother. If Aiden is aligned with pirates, it could bring bigger problems to you and the clan.”

“There is that, too.”

Declan stood and went to a side table. He poured whiskey into a glass and drank it down. “But as you said, not much to be done about it now. If Aiden Stuart has gotten himself in a spot of trouble, I hope he doesn’t expect Gordon assistance.”

“I find it troubling…” Ian began, then cocked his head to the side. “Have you considered that perhaps this was their plan all along? To get you seduced and married off in order to procure the Gordon Clan’s assistance when trouble came?”

“Of course it has. Meredith claims to have no idea what happens with her brother. Aiden, on the other hand, is hiding something. The Norse came this far because they sought something. Only vengeance would drive a man so far from his land.” He downed the whiskey. “I wouldna be surprised if Aiden Stuart did plan some of what happened with his sister. I don’t know, Ian, what’s done is done now. We marry the day after tomorrow. I won’t have her living here, in my bed, unless we’re wed. It’s the way it should be.”

“Aye.” They drank again and Declan settled into the chair. “What say you, Ian, should we spend the night with a rousing game of absolutely nothing ’til morning comes?”

A hand on his shoulder startled Declan. He woke to Ian motioning to the door and shaking him awake. “What is it?”

“Listen.”

Footsteps shuffled in the next room. It could be a maid stealing away, but they could get to the guards’ rooms from the kitchen and through the courtyard. The hounds perhaps. Although when one let out a soft growl, it was clear an intruder was about. Declan and Ian hovered in the doorway.

A figure in a long shift was flattened against the wall. Ian shook his head and ducked back into the room, shoving Declan out.

“Declan?” Meredith’s voice was shaky. “Are you here?”

He went to her, not as stable on his feet as he hoped after so much whiskey with Ian. “Aye, lass, I’m here.” He shooed the dogs away. “Why are you up and about?”

“I-I can’t sleep.” When he went to her, she clung to him, shivering. “Since I’m in your chamber, Lily wouldn’t stay. If you are not to sleep there, can she then?”

“I’ll go with you.” He tucked her under his arm and guided her up the stairs. He began to talk to calm her. “When a young man first goes off to battle, the excitement keeps him from being afraid many a time. The days in the field are full of activity. Upon returning home and there is too much idle time, they find it impossible to sleep. The true horror of what happened begins to take form and brings nightmares.” He kissed the top of her head. “So you see, it is normal for someone who’s gone through what you did to relive it once safe. Ye’re safe, lass.”

“I am safe,” she repeated and clung to him. “Will you stay with me?”

“Aye, I will. I said I would.”

Minutes later, snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder, she slept soundly. A smile tugged at his lips at her hand clutching his shirt as if fearing he’d leave once she fell asleep.

“Until we’re too old to live, lass. I will never leave you unprotected again.”

The following night he came to the bed only after Meredith slept. He washed up in the basin, removed only his shirt and lay atop the coverings next to her, not touching her. Although he did not want her to sleep elsewhere, he also did not touch her. Once she became his wife, it would be different, but for now, it was best to keep his distance. She’d be his soon enough.

Come morning, he’d lift her off his chest as she seemed to meander over to him in her sleep. If she awakened, Meredith would slide away if she thought him still asleep. As hard as it was to sleep next to her, it also helped him become familiar with sharing the bed and learning her sleep patterns. Many times, he remained awake and watched Meredith sleep, the beauty of the woman astounding him.

Meredith woke to a sunny morning. Her wedding day had arrived and, although she’d no trepidation of spending the rest of her life with Declan, it worried her that he’d remained distant and aloof since her rescue.

Her soon to be husband seemed to be kept busy most days away from the keep. When he returned to dine, he filled her in on what happened, impressing her with how quickly he became familiar with the area, often naming farmers and village people by name. In turn, the local townsfolk grew enamored of their new laird, many gracing their great hall in the evenings and a large number of them attending today’s ceremony.

Tents had been set up outdoors, pigs were being roasted and large pots of root vegetables boiled over fires. The servants, now double in number since she’d first visited, had been rushing for three days in preparation of the wedding and follow-on festivities. Already, two other lairds were ensconced there, having arrived with their families the night before.

Although she’d met several of the families, her nerves at entertaining so many titled people were on edge. Thankfully, Pat was an expert at taking control and helped guide her as to what needed to be done.

She and Aiden rarely entertained. When they did, it was not in such a grand manner. Her brother’s lands only housed a handful of farmers and there was no town to speak of. Most of them traveled to Moriag for wares and interaction.

Aiden had yet to return. Days had passed without any news and that added to her lack of enthusiasm of this day. It was to be her second marriage in less than a year. For a woman with a lackluster dowry, it was fortunate the new laird laid claim on her.

“You look beautiful, milady,” Lily told her in low tones. The maid had taken to calling her by title and not her name since moving to Moriag. That her friend also felt the necessity of change made tears spring to her eyes.

“Please, Lily, call me by name today. You are my only family present and I need you to be my friend today.” Meredith wiped at a tear that slid down her cheek and took Lily’s hands. “We can go back to silly titles tomorrow if it makes you feel better. But in private, let’s be Meredith and Lily.”

The maid smiled, her eyes shining brightly and squeezed her hands. “All right, Meredith, let’s get ye hitched properly then.”

They both giggled and hugged, separating abruptly at the chamber door opening.

Pat, the housemistress, bustled in with a bouquet of wildflowers. “Get a hurry on, lassies, the men await. Mister Ian is outside waiting to walk you to your new husband.” She looked over Meredith with an appreciating eye. “Ye look quite bonny, milady. I dear say Laird Gordon will be quite pleased.”

Meredith wondered at that. Laird Gordon had not touched her, nor barely spared her a glance, in days. Ian, on the other hand, had spoken to her for hours, questioning her about Aiden’s activities while he was at sea. Her information was poor at best, as her brother had never spoken to her about it. Other than funny anecdotes about occurrences with the men onboard, he kept any darker events to himself.

With one last glance in the looking glass, she turned to the door. “I am ready.” Lily took her hand and walked with her to the hallway where Ian waited.

Dressed in his kilt in the Gordon colors, the handsome man cut a fine figure. He nodded at her, lips curving in appreciation. “You look ravishing, indeed.” He took her hand and placed it on his forearm and they marched down the stairs to the crowded great room. She scanned the space, looking past all the curious faces for her brother.

“He is not here,” Ian said reading her thoughts. “We sent word to him.”

“Thank you.” She genuinely liked Ian and wondered why he’d not married. Other than what now seemed as a passing fancy with Elsbeth McNeil, he didn’t show any type of interest in other pursuits past sword play and guard work.

The room silenced at her entry. She looked to the front of the great room ignoring the rapt attention she garnered. Beside the priest in front of the high board, stood Declan. His darkened eyes met hers and held them. It gave her the strength to keep walking even though her legs trembled and threatened to give out.

Astoundingly handsome, Declan was dressed like Ian with the Gordon tartan of blue and green with thin yellow stripes woven through. At his left shoulder, the Gordon crest was pinned. Her eyes focused on the word engraved in it Bydand, steadfast, abiding.

He held out his hand and took her to stand before him.

The vows spoken both in English and Gaelic were familiar, as she’d only spoken them months earlier. But this time they felt real, each word imprinting past speech into her very being. Declan spoke his vows in the deep, husky voice and she met his eyes to see he struggled with keeping his composure. The man meant every word. Like most Scotsmen, a vow was the most sacred of speeches.

The priest pronounced them husband and wife and they kissed. Not quite a chaste kiss, but not the hungry, demanding type she associated with Declan.

Meredith allowed him to turn her to face the cheering crowd. Her eyes lighted on movement in the doorway. Aiden stood, clapping, his dirty, sweaty face bright with happiness.

The merriment of the celebration, along with Aiden’s appearance, made it a great day.

She was introduced to Declan’s older brother, Carrick, who was just as handsome, in spite of an angry scar down the side of his face. His wife, Analise, immediately made her feel welcome to the family with a tight hug. “I look forward to getting to know you.” The woman kissed her on the cheek and Meredith knew they would become fast friends.

She danced with her brother, who explained he’d taken care of any threat to her well-being and refused to say more on the subject.

Declan also danced with her, his face softer now, but he’d yet to speak anything more intimate than to tell her he was glad for the ceremony to be over. The evening loomed and she wondered at the consummation. Being that Declan was laird, the clansmen would want to be present for it, which mortified her. She’d never thought to have to deal with the rite.

At the high board, Declan filled her glass with wine. “Drink up. It will make it easier when we perform later. I can see you’re worrying your lip and keep looking to the stairs. It can’t be helped. The clan has a right to know we are married fully.”

She nodded and guzzled down the contents. “It’s a ridiculous custom.”

“But it is.” His simple reply made her realize Declan would be a strict husband. A man who adhered to customs and what was right in his people’s eyes.

Before long, the chants proclaimed the time had come. Declan was taken by the men and she hurried upstairs with the women. She gave her new husband one last glare as he laughed loudly at the crude words the men sang.

Settled in the bed wearing a thin shift, with only Pat in the corner, they waited for the men to arrive. Her new sister-in-law had patted her hand in leaving, stating it would soon be over and they could move on towards happiness.

How she wished it.

At the men’s voices nearing, Meredith stared at the wall unable to look to the door until Declan, stripped of clothing, was shoved through the doorway, his tartan thrown in after him. Ian and Dugan, his guardsman, entered next, both of them looking from Declan to her.

Aiden stood at the door, his eyes locking with hers once, then he turned his back. Two elderly men entered along with the priest, who stood next to the hearth, and seemed to find a lot of interest in the fire.

Declan came to her, his face bright from drink. “Come, lass, let’s join.”

With those simple words and his steady hands on her waist, she immediately relaxed. He climbed over her and parted her legs. He took his cock in hand and edged it to the entrance of her sex. Without preamble he thrust into her bringing Meredith to gasp in surprise. Her eyes on his, not daring to look at anyone in the room, she took courage in his steady gaze.

Declan moved once more pulling out and back in. In the wonder of finally being with him once again, she barely noticed the people quietly filing out of the chamber.

The shift she wore was quickly discarded and he pulled her up by the hips to allow for deeper penetration. His mouth took hers with a desperate hunger. She returned the kiss and of their own accord, her legs wrapped around him holding her lover close.

It was not a gentle love making. Her new husband took her harshly but, at the same time, she knew he held back. Urged by his moans of enjoyment, she became hungrier for more of what he could give.

She clawed down his back and dug her nails into his buttocks. He, in turn, bit into her shoulder, sending trails of heat down the length of her body. At once, they switched positions, Declan on his back now and she over him. Meredith pushed up to look down at her new husband. His sensuous lips curved, as darkened eyes locked with hers.

It was impossible to remain still, so she began rocking with his hardness moving in and out of her and her sex clenched around it taking him in a different way.

“You’re my perfect fit. My beautiful lover,” he told her, his gaze raking down her body. His large hands covered her breasts and kneaded them until he began to lose control. Declan grabbed her hips and helped lift and lower her while pushing his hips upward to drive into her.

They became one, both crying out in release, floating away in the abyss that raptured them. Space seemed to spin around them and Meredith was lost in Declan. Everything about him was perfection.

He pulled her against his chest and kissed her temples. For some unfortunate reason, Meredith began to cry.

“What is the matter, lass?”

“I don’t know.” Honestly, she didn’t understand why she cried. It was clear now he desired her, but it bothered her how he’d barely spoken to her in days.

Fingers under her chin, he lifted her face. “Tell me.”

“All right.” She sniffed. “You don’t like me. I am sad that you only want my body, but you’re my husband now. I want you to care for me. Even just a bit.”

An unreadable expression crossed his face. Eyes downcast, he cleared his throat. “What do you feel for me? You rebuffed my requests for weeks. It doesn’t seem you care for me either.”

“I rebuffed you because I was hurt. But I was about to relent. I missed you so much and wanted to see you.”

He wrapped his arms around her, the steady heartbeat under her ear reassuring. “I went after you without hesitation when you were taken. Every minute that passed, I prayed for you to be alive. I never asked you if they’d raped you because it didn’t matter to me. I didn’t touch you because I wanted to give you time to rest. Heal, if needed. True, I didn’t spend much time with you since your arrival. I feared if I would, I’d beg to be allowed into your body. It was best to wait until we were married. At least, that is what I felt was right. You are very important to me, Meredith. In my heart, I refused to lose you even though I worried about marrying you. I do hope you’ll come to care for me as I do for you.”

His words lulled her into a womb of warmth and safety and she listened to the deep voice, loving the sound of it as he continued. “My father was in a loveless marriage. It taught me a lesson. That type of marriage allows for evil to happen. I don’t want that with you. I don’t fear it with you.”

Once again he lifted her face and kissed her on the lips. “Every vow I spoke today, I meant, Meredith. I will always be true to you. I promised it then and I promise it to you now. I care for you more than I should, cannot fathom a day without you.”

Past the haze of tears, she smiled at him and kissed his lips. “I can tell you this, Murrough Declan Gordon, I love you, husband. I love you with all my heart and being.”

He didn’t reply for a long time, his softened gaze looked from her face to her breasts. His hands slid down to cup her behind. “I wish to have you again, wife.” The soft words were a melody to her ears.

“As do I, husband.”

Epilogue

Meredith strolled in the garden, enjoying the warmth the beginning of spring brought. Her enlarged belly made it hard to bend to pick up the yellow flowers she wanted to use to brighten up the great room and her and Declan’s chamber.

“I think you’ve got enough.” Lily, ever at her side, laid several stems into the basket. “Should we cut some of the long grass to fill in the vases?”

“Good idea.” Meredith rested her hands on her stomach at spotting a rider in the distance. “Someone comes.”

Lily squinted past the bright sun. “It may be your brother again. He’s overly anxious to be here when you go into labor.”

“True. I wonder what will happen when he marries and faces the prospect of his first-born. He’ll, no doubt, go mad with nerves.” Both laughed as the horseman neared. It was, indeed, Aiden who dismounted and pulled his horse behind as he walked to her. “Should you be out and about so freely in your condition? Where is your husband? What does he say about it?”

If not for the fact she knew he cared, she would have hit him on the side of his head with her basket. “I am more than well, dear brother. Would you like to come inside? Perhaps ale will calm your nerves.”

Lily excused herself when her brother’s expression darkened. He took her hand and led her to sit on the garden’s bench. She leaned onto his shoulder and sighed. “I miss seeing you every day. I am glad you come to visit. I am fine, I promise you.”

“I know your husband cares for you, but he’s not your family. I am.”

How to say what she had to without hurting him? Meredith straightened and took his hand. “No, darling, you are wrong. Declan is my family now, as well. You and he are my family. Once the bairn comes, there will be one more. You are his uncle, a part of us always.” It bothered her that he seemed so alone. If only he’d marry.

“You are right, Meredith. I am glad you feel so. Laird Gordon has proved to be good to you.”

“Get married, Aiden,” Meredith pleaded. “I want to see you with a wife and children of your own.”

He frowned and looked toward the field where the guards practiced. “Aye, maybe soon. I was close once.” Meredith remained quiet, although many questions came to her mind. “I was in love. But she belonged to another world. A different people.”

“Norse?”

After a moment Aiden nodded. “Aye. Golden-haired beauty who was to return to Scotland with me. But on the appointed day, she didn’t come. I waited for two additional days. Finally, we left. I never knew what happened…until…” He looked at the ground. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“That Norse who kidnapped me. Did he look for her?”

“Nay. He looked for you, planned to take you back to avenge her.”

“Why?”

“Because on her way to meet with me, she was killed. He is her brother.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No. He now knows I loved her.”

“I am so sorry.” Meredith wrapped her arms around his waist. “Truly, I can’t imagine how you feel. If something happened to Declan…”

“Nothing will happen to me, love.” Her handsome husband came to them, leaned to kiss her and held his hand out to Aiden. The men shook hands and, before long, wandered toward where the guardsmen sparred.

Meredith watched her brother and sighed. If he loved before, he would again. She turned when Lily neared. “Lily, what do you think of inviting Elsbeth McNeil to sup with us tonight?”

Lily narrowed her eyes and looked toward where her brother now stood with Declan. “I’d say it’s a wonderful idea, milady. I’m sure Lady McNeil will accept.”

The baby kicked and Meredith smiled. “Come now, we must dispatch a messenger and get these flowers inside and into water.”

Meredith sighed when a stern-faced Pat greeted them. “Milady, you shouldn’t tax yourself so. You’re too heavy with the wee one.” Pat took her arm and guided her inside.

Her life was complete. She’d been blessed with a caring brother and staff, a child on the way who would be loved and a wonderfully, wickedly handsome husband at her side.

“Hurry, Laird, the babe comes!” Dugan called from atop his steed. “They ask you come now.”

Everything tilted and Declan grabbed his horse’s reins to steady himself. It would definitely not do to pass out and fail his wife when she needed him most. He mounted and caught up with Dugan. “Is all well?”

“Aye, as far as I know.” They rode hard toward the keep. “Damn having to come so far today.”

It was necessary. A herd of sheep had gone astray and with so many wolves about hunting to feed their young, he and the guard were forced to help the shepherds. Now, the animals were rounded up and safe, with minimal losses.

“All will be well, Laird.” Dugan studied his face. “You have lost all color. Not the time to fall off your horse.”

“Thank you, Dugan, I am aware of that,” he replied dryly. Since he’d grown up with most of his guards, they were too free to point out his missteps. Dugan, being his cousin, even more so. Admittedly, he’d not have it any other way. They’d all give their life for him. And he for them.

Finally arriving at the keep, he leaped from his horse and sprinted through the great room and up the stairs. A young lad stood at the door and said something he didn’t hear as he rushed past the boy. “Laird, you shouldna be inside.” Lily tried unsuccessfully to push him out the door. “Milady is not prepared to greet you.”

He rounded on the maid and froze. Pat and the town’s midwife bustled about. One held a howling baby, while the other cut the long cord. Bloodstained cloths were strewn about. So much blood.

“Meredith.” He looked past the women to the bed.

His pale wife was focused on the babe, a determined look on her face. “No need to upset him further. Wash him and swaddle him tight. I wish to hold him.” She barely spared Declan a glance, once again, looking to the women. “Hurry on about it.”

He came to her and leaned over to kiss her. She frowned up at him. “Declan, what are you doing in here? They haven’t had a chance to clean up.”

“I don’t care about that. How do you feel?” He sat on the side of the bed and followed her line of sight to the babe who was now being swaddled. “A boy.”

“Here, I’ll take him.” Meredith stretched out her arms. “Give him to me.”

Her face softened upon the child being placed in her arms and, immediately, Declan, too, became bewitched, both looking from the child to one another. Meredith beamed at him. “I am so happy at this moment.”

“As am I,” Declan replied and kissed her. “What shall we call him?”

“I will leave my father’s name to Aiden for when he has children. I would like to name him after you. Murrough James Gordon.”

“Very well.” Declan fought to keep from tearing up when she placed the child in his arms. “Laird Gordon, meet your son.”

The babe’s green eyes met his and Declan’s chest filled with pride.

“My son.”

Lady and The Scot

Chapter One

Moriag Forest, in the Northeast Highlands of Scotland

Just before he loosed his arrow, the buck jumped and dashed away. The day of hunting had become a total waste of time. Aiden Stuart let out a big huff and slapped his leg in frustration.

“A restless man is a dangerous thing,” his friend, Ian McRainey of Clan Gordon, stated as they crouched behind trees and bushes waiting for another shot at prey. “You have yet to stop fidgeting. They hear all the noise you make.” Ian put down his bow and stared at him. “Do you starve every winter?”

He gave the man a droll look. “It could be the blinding shine from your golden tresses keeping the beasties away.”

Ian was right, of course. This life of leisure was excruciatingly boring. If there were such a thing as death by boredom, he was close to it. Of all people, Ian would understand. The seasoned warrior, who now lived in Moriag with the new laird, Declan Gordon, had to be having trouble adjusting to life in a place where peace reigned for decades.

Aiden’s small keep to the south of Laird Gordon’s lands made them neighbors. Often, he joined Ian and Declan for outings to hunt or visit the townspeople. But this day, it was just him and Ian hunting. The Gordon had his hands full now that his wife, Aiden’s sister, had given birth to their first child. A boy.

“Mayhaps I should take to the sea again. I miss my life aboard the ship.” Aiden peered into the forest thinking he spotted movement. “I am, indeed, restless.”

“Or just in need of a distraction,” Ian said with a bark of laughter. “A woman may help with what ails ye.”

“She may,” he reluctantly agreed. “I’ve not lain with a woman in almost a fortnight. My hand grows tired.” Aiden chuckled at his own joke.

The men laughed and gave up the pretense of hunting. Ian pulled out a wineskin and took a drink. “It is a good thing your guardsmen are good hunters,” Ian said passing the skin to Aiden. “Else you would, indeed, starve.”

He took a long drink and gave it back. “They train and hunt, which keeps them in shape for whatever comes. Let us go to town for our evening meal.”

Within moments, they mounted and headed to the small village of Moriag.

Lanterns illuminated the interior of the small inn within Moriag. Every table was filled with either local townsfolk or travelers. A man sat in the corner and played a stringed instrument, the soft music created a soothing atmosphere. Exactly what Aiden didn’t need. He rolled his eyes when the man began to sing a song of love and sorrow.

Ian lifted his tankard. “To you, my dangerous friend, who needs a woman or two to lessen the boredom of his life.”

Aiden grunted and drank from his own cup. “It’s more than that. Although I appreciate the peace of this land, I do not govern over a village nor do I have many tenants to care for. My duties are few.”

“Aye, I can imagine. Even with the many duties of Moriag townspeople and the keep, ’tis not the same as our life used to be.” Ian looked to him. “Perhaps you should consider growing your lands, supplementing plots for farmers.”

“It’s an idea.” Aiden doubted that would be enough to keep him busy though.

Across from him, on the other side of the inn’s room, sat a woman dressed in deep blue. Her midnight tresses caught the light from the lanterns, giving them a soft glow. She sat erect, not eating. Her regal stance made her social stature obvious. Yet at the same time, there was a vulnerability about her that made him look to her every so often. Her dark eyes met his not for the first time and he lifted a brow in response. Her eyes widened slightly and she looked away. The beauty looked past him to the doorway and he wondered what waited for her once she and her companion left.

At her table, across from her, sat a robust man who laughed too loudly and continuously lifted his tankard for a refill. The man’s meaty hand pushed her cup closer. “Drink up, Breena, tonight we have much to celebrate.”

He noted her hand shook when she reached for the cup. Her gaze slid across the room without stopping as if searching for an escape.

She was a rare beauty. By the glances from all the men in the room, she did not go unnoticed. With light olive skin, almond-shaped, brown eyes and a slight lift to her upper lip, she was exotically appealing. The beauty was not slight, but tall with a long, graceful neck. Both she and her companion were dressed in expensive fabrics that cost plenty of coin to acquire. Her gown’s long sleeves were decorated with lace and brilliant jewels hung from her ears and neck. Aiden felt bad for her as women like her rarely had a choice in the men they wed. He wondered if she had just married the man who accompanied her. A pity.

Although she held her head high and shoulders straight, there was something about her that made him look to her again and again. She called to a part of him he thought long ago dormant.

None of his business. Aiden stood from the table. “Need to take a piss.” He exited the inn and rounded the corner to relieve himself.

He unfastened his britches and released his cock just as he heard footsteps approach.

“I need your help, please.” The woman touched his back. “Can you help me? I must escape.”

It was dark and he couldn’t see her face clearly, but he knew instinctively it was the woman he’d just admired in the inn. Even with a full moon bright, its light could not penetrate the space where they stood. “A bit busy right now.”

She lifted her skirts and stood aside, waiting until he finished. A new experience for him, a woman standing by while he pissed. Especially a finely dressed one.

A lady.

He fastened his britches and closed the distance between them. Her delicate fragrance tickled his nose, enticing him. “What happens, lady?”

“I—I…” She looked toward the front of the inn. “I am brought here by force. The man with me. He is not a good man. Please, help me escape.” A tear slid down her cheek and she grabbed for his hand. “We must hurry. They will come after me.”

Aiden looked around. There was only one way to leave, to the front of the alleyway where they were sure to be seen. Still, he rushed toward it only to stop when two men appeared and blocked the exit. He pushed the woman behind him and shielded her with his body.

He swayed a bit and let out a frustrated breath. He’d had too many tankards of ale to even consider that he could fight off the men. If he were completely honest, one opponent could prove a feat for him on this night. “Allow me to escort the lady back inside.” He looked to each man, not recognizing them. “She is not feeling well.”

“Our laird will ensure she is well cared for.” One moved toward him. “Allow her to pass.”

“Who is your laird?” Aiden challenged when the woman leaned against his back, trembling. Not exactly a time to have her body against his. Especially since he’d not been with a woman in so long. He fought the urge to reach for her. “Not from these lands, I presume?”

“Laird Robertson is on his way to visit the McNeil.”

“Liam McNeil is a good friend of mine. As I said, I will accompany the lady inside and speak to your laird.”

When they parted, he took the woman’s elbow and pulled her alongside and walked back inside the inn. The guardsmen followed on his heels to ensure he did, indeed, make his way to their laird.

When he entered, Laird Robertson met them at the door. His shrewd eyes moved from Aiden to the woman, who shrunk back into him.

“The lady is not feeling well,” Aiden told the man who grabbed the woman’s upper arm and yanked her forward.

“Is that so?” He ignored Aiden, his attention on her. “What happens to you now, Breena?”

“I felt faint. My stomach churns. I am going to be sick.” She met the man’s gaze without expression, daring him to not believe her.

“I grow tired of your difficulties.” Robertson’s hand dug into her arm.

“Not as tired as I. Let us go.” She yanked her arm from his grasp and pushed past Aiden. They followed her outside while Aiden watched.

Aiden remained at the doorway and observed. A maid came forward immediately and assisted her into the carriage. Just before the door closed, the woman looked toward the inn, her eyes locking with his. The sadness in them took him by surprise. If he could have helped her, he would have.

Had he made a mistake by allowing her to leave? What if the woman was in danger? The only way to find out was to visit the McNeil. He’d have to come up with a good excuse and go to the McNeil keep early in the morning.

“What was that about?” Ian asked when he sat.

Aiden motioned to a bar wench who leaned over him to pour his ale, her breasts practically spilling over the top of her bodice. She smelled of sweat and dirt and Aiden looked away. “She asked me for help,” he replied. “Quite strange.”

“Help?” Ian straightened. “Did you?”

“No, I don’t believe so. She claimed the loud man she was with took her against her will. The guardsmen told me they go to visit the McNeil. I plan to go there on the morrow to ensure all is well.”

“A reluctant bride, I bet.” Ian looked past the bar wench to the door, his face softened. “Ah, there is a perfect distraction for you.”

Two women entered, similar in look with long braids down their backs. He knew them to be a local farmer’s daughters who often entertained Ian and Dugan, another of Gordon’s guardsmen. At least his night would not be wasted. The women would see that he and Ian were well taken care of.

“Good night, good sir.” One of the women sat on his lap. “I find myself parched for a drink.”

The innkeeper’s wife glared at the women who ignored her. Aiden motioned the now pouting bar wench forward. “We must take care of it at once.”

Later in his keep, Aiden paced the great room. He could not stop wondering of the beautiful woman’s fate. A guard appeared and Aiden handed him a missive. “Please take this to the McNeil. I will visit in the morn.”

The guard left and, yet, he continued to feel restless. While the farmer’s daughter back at the inn had sucked his cock, he’d pictured the dark-haired beauty the entire time. What did she do now? Was she safe?

He walked outside into the night air to clear his thoughts and looked to the star-filled sky.

Tomorrow he’d seek the beauty again. If she asked for his help, this time he would not turn her down.

Chapter Two

Breena McGalen held back the urge to throw up. Although it would serve the blowhard right, she didn’t want to ruin her new dress. “Please stop the carriage. I am going to be ill.”

She dove out the door as soon as the carriage stopped and bent over. She threw up for a long time while her maid, Ita, held her and soothed her. “You will be right as soon as we get ye in the bed to rest, milady.”

There would be no rest for her. The hand fast ceremony was completed between her and Robertson. She was to marry him in a fortnight unless he sent her back to her clan and he’d already confessed time and again he’d never release her. The thought of lying with the huge, distasteful man sent her to dry heave.

“Enough!” he called from the carriage. “We will be on our way. If you get sick again, do so into your particle.”

“My laird, my lady requires to lie down.” Poor Ita dared to speak up for her once they were in the carriage again.

The maid cringed when Robertson leaned forward, his face mere inches from the hapless woman’s. “She will sleep when I allow it.” His hard eyes moved to her. “Ensure you present yourself well before the McNeil.” His lips curved into a cruel smile when he grabbed Ita by the forearms and pulled her into his lap, his hand delving between her legs. The maid’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. He growled, “You will ensure she is settled and then come and warm my bed.” His other hand crushed the maid’s breast. He continued to fondle her until Ita’s breathing hitched.

Breena looked away, disgusted at the display, while at the same time feeling horrible for Ita who was now moaning.

“Come to my bed tonight.” Robertson’s hoarse words made Breena’s already tender stomach lurch and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

Ita flopped forward when he shoved her back to sit next to Breena. “Yes, my laird.”

The poor girl had lived with Robertson for years. Unlike Breena, who’d arrived just the day before they left for the Highlands. Breena felt ashamed at planning her escape without Ita earlier. When escaping, she’d do her best to bring the maid with her.

Finally, they came to a stop. She heard men’s voices as the guards announced the Robertson’s visit. Men peered into the window and, before long, the carriage moved forward into the McNeil’s keep.

It was too dark to see clearly the size of the enclosed courtyard, but it seemed quite large. Breena climbed down and faced her new hosts.

The McNeil was a nice looking man. He looked to be in his forties by the graying at his temples, with kind, blue eyes and a bit taller than Robertson. Next to him stood an attractive woman who had to be his wife and a beautiful, young, blonde girl. The women studied her in return, but remained silent, waiting for the men to speak first.

The McNeil grasped Robertson’s hand and smiled. “It has been a long time, Robertson. Your missive announcing your visit was surprising but, of course, welcomed news.”

By the look on the women’s faces, they did not agree with their laird’s pronouncement. Both looked to each other and then to her. She saw pity in their eyes. It was hard to keep her head high, but she managed to. “Lady Breena McGalen.” When Robertson introduced her to the laird, she curtsied low, bending her head forward.

The laird’s warm gaze met hers. “I’ve not heard the name McGalen before. Welcome to our home, Lady McGalen.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I am from the border with Ireland, perhaps that is why.”

The laird motioned the women forward. “May I present my wife, Grisella, and my daughter, Elsbeth.” The women lowered, both bending their heads just enough. Obviously, they did not hold Robertson in high regard by the lack of warmth in their expressions upon straightening.

Breena, at once, felt kinship with them and she went to stand next to them. Elsbeth took her hand and pulled Breena toward a doorway. “Come, let us have tea. You look pale.”

She was more than happy to oblige. Lady Grisella came to her other side. “We have prepared a bedchamber for you and your maid. I am not sure of the nature of your relationship with Laird Robertson, so I did not put you in adjoining chambers.”

Her knees shook with relief. “I am eternally grateful to you.” She gasped at the outburst. “What I mean to say is that it is perfect. We are just hand fasted two days ago and I am not used to his presence yet.”

“I see.” Lady Grisella looked over her shoulder to verify no one heard. “So your family agreed to the match?”

Breena lowered her voice. “My father and he made the arrangement. I am not aware of the particulars, only that I am to marry him. I managed to convince my father into a hand fast first. I am not sure what I will do, but I will find a way to get away from him.”

“Now, now. It cannot be so bad,” Grisella said with a neutral expression. “Once you bare his children, they will take all of your attention and, perhaps, he will become distracted, as well.”

The words made her want to cry. They would not help her. Not that she blamed them. They didn’t know her. Probably thought her petulant and spoiled.

In a small room beside the great room, they were able to drink tea and keep an eye on the men who sat around a long table and talked. The more ale Robertson drank, the more boisterous he became. Breena hoped that after consuming ale at the inn and more now, he’d pass out and close his mouth.

She was astounded at how the people there favored their laird. The McNeil walked about the room, not sitting at the high board but, instead, settling next to his men while conversing.

On the contrary, Robertson remained at the high board, looking down at the other laird while calling out responses. She was embarrassed to be with him.

“This is so different than my clan,” Breena said to the women. “In my home, laughter is rare. Most of the townsfolk stay away.”

Grisella nodded. “Aye, my childhood home as well was cold. I believe it depends on the laird. The McNeil is a fair and caring man. This is also a peaceful land. It is rare there are any problems between the neighboring clans. I am very fortunate to have caught Liam’s attention.”

The woman looked to her husband with a soft smile and Breena recognized love. “Aye, you are.”

Upon noticing her regard, Elsbeth leaned forward to take Breena’s hand. “I am so sorry about your situation. I wish it were different for your sake.”

Breena did not want to dwell on her circumstances. “What of you, Elsbeth. Are you spoken for?”

“Not yet.” The young woman shrugged. “My da is always seeking someone, but my luck has been rather…lacking.”

Grisella laughed. “My daughter is quite a spitfire. It will be a very patient man who will take responsibility for her.”

“I will not marry a simpleton who drools over his ale,” Elsbeth said and gasped, realizing she’d just described Robertson.

In spite of the blunder, which made Grisella give her daughter a stern look, Breena giggled. “Aye, I can understand that.”

The women laughed until the men looked to them.

Later that evening, Ita informed her while helping her undress, “The laird is asleep. He’s snoring like a boar.” The maid did not measure her words and Breena could not find the energy to correct her.

She slid between the bed coverings, her eyes already drooping from exhaustion. The McNeil women, although endearing, would not help her get away from Robertson. The man at the inn had not helped her, but he seemed to be concerned for her welfare.

Why could she not be hand fasted to someone like him? He was a handsome one. Tall with a fine physique. His burnished hair fell to his wide shoulders and those eyes, piercing. As if he could see straight into a person’s soul.

It had taken her a moment to realize the colors of his eyes did not match. One was a bright clear green, the other closer to amber. Somehow, in those few brief moments when he’d shielded her with his large body, protecting her from the advancing guards, she’d felt more secure than ever in her entire life. A man like him would not only protect his woman, but also ensure her well-being, putting her above others. Something Robertson would never do. The boar of a man cared only for himself. He was cruel to others, finding glee in the pain he caused.

Before she lay with him, she’d either escape or kill herself.

Chapter Three

The loud booms on his door jerked Aiden awake. Two of his guardsmen stormed into the chamber. “Laird, the village is under attack.” Their chests rose and lowered with their heavy breathing. “Four of our men have gone to see about helping. I believe the other laird’s guards have been dispatched as well.”

Moriag had been dormant too long. Although he knew his neighbor’s guards trained daily to remain in fighting form. Yet, they’d become too comfortable. Peace could only last as long as they could defend themselves against attacks and ensure any marauders understood Moriag was not without protection.

His steed’s hooves pounded the ground as he and the two guardsmen rode hard toward the village. The eerie glow of the flames from burning buildings forced them faster.

When they arrived, the guardsmen were busy putting fires out. There were no attackers anywhere. He went to where Declan Gordon stood talking to Ian.

“What happened?”

“They attacked and left. Almost as if they didn’t want to be confronted. Four people are dead and many injured. They say it was a band of about five and twenty men.”

“We have more than that combined,” Aiden responded. “Even without the McNeil and Campbell.”

Ian kicked at a stone and watched men carry an injured person across the courtyard to where the wounded were being cared for. “I say we rush after them and attack. Why do we stand here and do nothing?”

The McNeil arrived on horseback with several guardsmen. “Because we are smarter than that. We must convene together and plan.”

The Gordon nodded. “Let’s split into two groups and go after them. They went north from what the villagers say.”

The lairds split into groups of ten and twenty men and rode out, leaving a small group behind to keep the village safe. Aiden hated to admit the possibility of battle made the blood course through his veins faster, giving him energy he’d not felt in the years since he’d come to Moriag to oversee his inheritance.

“Over there!” someone called out and they turned in the direction the man indicated. The attackers were prepared, no doubt heard them coming and rushed to them head on.

Swords clashed, metal against metal. The mixture of human growls and horse whinnying filled the air. The intruders were battle ready, obviously the type that spent time on the battlefield and not just training daily like his men. They did not hold back, but struck with intent to kill.

A loud whistle sounded and the attackers immediately pulled back. They turned away and fled into the darkness.

They gave chase, but were forced to give up when called back by the other lairds. Aiden looked to the others. “I believe they are leaving our lands, not to return. Let us find our injured and go back.”

The Gordon held up his right hand to get their attention. “If you see any of theirs are not dead, take them as prisoners. Do not kill them.”

They did not find any injured attackers; those left behind had been killed.

Soon they headed back to the McNeil keep, the largest and nearest. The injured guardsmen were set up in cots in the courtyard so a healer could care for them.

The women and elderly in the keep rushed out to help. The dark-haired beauty from the inn came down a stairway. She hesitated at the bottom, her eyes immediately locked to the entryway of the keep.

He wondered if she’d seize the opportunity with all the commotion to escape. But moments later, she lowered beside a man who writhed in pain. She took cloths and with swift precision, tore them into strips. She then tied several around the man’s upper arm and began to clean the injury to his lower arm. He noted she didn’t cringe at the gruesome sight. Instead, she spoke in soft tones to the man who Aiden suspected would lose his arm.

To a warrior, losing a sword arm was worse than death and Aiden felt bad for the man. He neared to get a better look at the injury. The wounded man looked to him, searching his face as if hoping Aiden would bring good news.

“I will help you keep still so she can tend to you wounds.” He lowered and held the man’s shoulders. Breena pulled his ravaged flesh together and the man began to shake, his breathing ragged. She looked up at Aiden and then back to the wound. “I am not sure I can stitch it closed, but I will try. First, I will have to bring the bone together. This will hurt.”

She dipped her fingers into the wound and the man cried out in pain. Her concern-filled eyes looked to his face. “I’m sorry. But we have to try to save your arm.”

The warrior nodded, beads of sweat pouring down his face. “Aye, go ahead.”

Aiden was astounded at how calm the woman remained as she set the bones and stitched the wound shut. Her fingers steady, all the while she spoke to the warrior in low tones, keeping his focus on her as much as possible. Once the wound was closed, she motioned for a maid to come and give him a strong dose of whiskey to help dull the pain. “I believe you will heal, but it will take weeks.” She picked up her skirts and moved to the next injured man, who had an angry gash to the side of his face.

Aiden stood by as she cleansed the wound and began stitching it. “Where did you learn healing?”

“We do not have peace in the lowland area where I come from.” She did not look at him, but kept her focus on the wound. “My clan has battled most of my life. I learned young how to care for the injured.” She gave her patient a swift slap on the hand when he reached to his face. “Don’t touch your face. Your hands are grubby and will infect it.”

The hapless man gave Aiden a defeated look and lowered his arm. “You are not gentle at all,” he grumbled.

“You are correct. I am not,” she replied and continued her work.

When she finished, he scanned the area for her guardsmen. It seemed curious that none were about. Neither was Robertson. The man probably still slept off the effects of too much ale. From what the McNeil told him, the man had drank himself into a stupor. He touched Breena’s arm. “May I speak to you?”

He followed her to a corner of the courtyard. She looked up at him, her façade strangely calm. Unlike the day before when she’d asked for his help in escaping, today she seemed like a totally different person. “Why did you ask for my assistance in escaping?”

She studied him for a moment, seeming to deduce whether he was friend or foe. “I was upset. Homesick. Acting like a child. It is nothing. I realize it was silly of me to approach a total stranger.” As she spoke, her gaze scanned the courtyard.

“I don’t believe you.”

Her eyes flew back to his face. “It is up to you, of course, to think as you see fit. But you do not know me, sir.”

“You are correct in that. But ’tis easy to see the man with whom you travel mistreats you.”

She remained silent, so he took it as a clue that the woman would refuse his offer to help in that moment. “If you need anything, send word. I am Aiden Stuart, of Torraibh. I live not too far from here to the south.”

“Breena McGalen,” she replied and bowed her head. “I must go and see what else needs to be done. Please excuse me, Laird.”

So she already knew who he was. He’d not told her he was a laird. Aiden watched the soft sway of her hips as she made her way back to the center of the courtyard.

“Not too many injuries for my men. What about you?” Declan Gordon placed a hand on his shoulder. Aiden searched for his guardsman, Calum, who’d fallen off his horse and had to be carried back. He spotted the guardsman standing with a group. “It seems Calum was knocked on the head, but he’s fine now.”

“McNeil lost a man.” They crossed themselves. “A young man who’d not much experience.”

“It is hard with lack of battle for so long for our men to take battle training seriously. Although this has been a tough lesson, it is a good one for them.”

“Aye, I agree.” Declan motioned for him to follow. “Come, we must meet with the McNeil. Looks like the Campbell arrives. Word was sent to him to join us.”

The older man stopped at the courtyard entrance upon a great steed. Too many guardsmen to fit into the courtyard flanked him. His shrewd eyes took in the scene before him.

He looked to Declan and the other two lairds. “I came to let you know you have my support and the use of my men. I will join you tomorrow. Send a messenger to let me know where and when.”

“We thank you,” Liam McNeil bowed to the Campbell who nodded. “You are my neighbors and my friends. Our clans have coexisted in peace for many years. Any attack on Moriag is an attack on Kilchurn.”

After the Campbell left, Aiden joined the other two lairds as they ascended the stairwell into the keep. It was time to plan for any upcoming attacks.

Within moments of settling into a room just a bit smaller than the great room, Robertson deemed to make his appearance. He narrowed his eyes at seeing Aiden and Gordon. “What is the reason for the joining of lairds?” He moved to a sideboard and motioned for a lass to pour him mead. “I imagine ’tis something of importance.”

The McNeil looked to his guest. “Our village was attacked in the wee hours of the morning. I consider an attack to be important, yes.” He looked to the other lairds. “This is Creag Robertson, my guest.”

Curt nods were given, everyone more focused on dealing with the attackers than the obnoxious man who settled into a chair and watched them with interest.

“Now, to the matter at hand,” Liam McNeil got everyone’s attention. “We must join forces in order to ensure the peace to our region is regained.”

When the lairds departed to go inside, Breena kneeled next to the man whose arm she’d already bandaged. He seemed to be well enough to move and she motioned for men to come forward and carry him to one of the tents where he could sleep and recover.

“You should wash up and get some rest,” Grisella told her, her brows drawn together. “I assure you this is a rarity. Our region has lived in peace for a very long time.”

“Do not worry yourself with me. I am fine. I will go rest momentarily.”

“Thank ye for helping with the men. You are a good healer.” The woman patted her shoulder and moved away when someone called for her.

Breena picked up a wooden bucket and went toward the courtyard’s entryway. She moved to a well and began pulling at the rope all the while looking across the courtyard to the top of the high walls. Men patrolled, scanning the area below. To her left and right, men congregated in small groups; anxiety floated in the air.

She walked to the side of the keep and continued close to the wall with her still empty bucket in hand. Trembling she fought to keep from making any noise. Breathing became hard, her chest heaving from the effort. If Robertson learned of her attempt to escape, she shuddered to think how he’d respond.

No one followed. Thankfully, a few steps further, there were low growing bushes, which would keep the men from above the keep from seeing her clearly. If she were discovered, she’d claim to be gathering healing herbs. Just to make her story believable, Breena bent and nipped some sprigs of a plant known for pain and put the greenery into her bucket. Her feet sunk into the soft grass and the overwhelming desire to collapse came over her. What had her life become?

She was raised in the best of circumstances. Both her parents were titled. Growing up with her sister and brothers, she’d never wanted for anything. They’d been pampered, but she rarely was shown any type of affection by her parents. Her father’s attention was exclusively for his sons, her mothers for her younger sister. Upon reaching adolescence, her mother sent her off to live with an aunt and uncle for several years, claiming not to be strong enough to deal with her unruly ways. It was true. She had been rebellious, a desperate attempt to get her parents’ notice.

Her restlessness gave fruition to finding a purpose. Satisfaction at helping fulfilled her when she focused on learning the art of healing. For the last few years, she’d dedicated her time to learning to care for the wounded. Her clan was constantly involved in clan border fights.

Out with the wounded, she was appreciated and treated with respect once her intuition for healing was realized.

In the distance, she heard a guard whistle and she bent again and picked at a plain grass. She took some and put it in the bucket. No one came after her. The man must have been getting another one’s attention for something else.

She admired the men who gave their life to protect the laird and his family, always had a high regard for guards. At ten and six, she’d fallen in love with a warrior and they’d been lovers for a while. But he could not stand up for her before her father. Any acknowledgement of their involvement would result in his lashing or worse, so they’d kept it secret. Then one day, he was gone. Later she learned one of her brothers had discovered their relationship and had sent him away.

How she hated the power men had over her. How she detested her cruel family’s ways.

Just a year earlier, she’d overheard her parents argue. It seemed her mother had a lover before they’d married and she’d been the result. Understanding dawned that day and made it clear why neither of them ever cared for her. Upon Robertson’s request for her hand in marriage, both had quickly agreed. The farther away she lived, the easier it would be to forget she existed.

An hour later, she heaved a breath of relief. She’d done it. Gotten away. The woods she rushed through grew thicker and darker and she fought to keep her skirts from snagging on low branches. Thankfully, she’d changed into a serviceable frock to help with the injured, so the dark color as well as the narrow skirting helped.

With everything that happened at the keep, as well as the meeting of the lairds, she hoped it would be late before Robertson sent for her. If Ita noticed her missing first, she was sure the maid would announce it to the ladies of the house before telling the men.

The McNeil’s wife and daughter seemed kind. Both gave the impression of being content. But she doubted they’d hold Robertson back from punishing her. Although they seemed to have a different life. Totally different than what she faced with Robertson.

She’d noticed warm looks between Grisella and the McNeil. If not love, they cared for one another a great deal. Perhaps the woman would wait before reporting to Robertson of her disappearance. Then again, with the attacks, they’d no doubt send out men to search for her immediately.

Breena moved faster. She needed to be as far as possible, find a place to hide before the guardsmen came searching.

At the sounds of horses, Breena gasped, dove into the vegetation, and lay stomach down onto the rich, peat-covered ground. She peered through the thickness. A large group of men on horseback appeared on a thin trail. They rode in flanks of two, about twenty men in all. They spoke in low grunts, their attention forward. “We strike and flee toward the west today. Have to keep them guessing where we make our camp,” a large man with long hair spoke. “Don’t leave any injured behind. If you canna ride, you die.”

They did not spot her as they rode past, their attention seeming to be on getting to their destination.

Breena let out a breath at the sight of their retreating backs. Interesting, she could have sworn two of the men were Robertson’s guardsmen. Could it be possible he was behind the attacks? But why would he bring destruction to Moriag?

Of course, he had very little land of his own, although he was wealthy. Perhaps he wanted a larger region to rule over and being that Moriag was a peaceful region, he expected it to be an easy place to overtake.

Breena considered returning and warning the other lairds, but it was too risky now. She’d be caught by the men who went towards Moriag.

For now, she’d find shelter and do her best to find a way to warn them in the morning.

A small cottage came into view. With trepidation, she went to the front door and pushed it open. It was empty. No one seemed to live there. The few things kept there appeared to not have been used recently. Closing the door swiftly behind her, she went to the fireplace and began to pile wood for warmth. With a flint and kindling, the fire came to life, at once warming the cottage. Exhausted from the trek and the emotions she’d managed to keep controlled, Breena collapsed onto the floor.

Tears flowed and she allowed sadness at what her life had become to have free rein.

Chapter Four

Now that it was no longer necessary to maintain a brave front, Elsbeth McNeil leaned against a wall and let out a breath. Her entire body continued to shake after seeing so many injuries and blood.

Men stood around a large fire in the center of the courtyard, some keeping guard and others resting.

At a loud moan from a wounded man, several of her household staff made their way over to him with water, cloths, and no doubt, whiskey. Her father had availed all his whiskey to be used to dull their aches.

Never again would she take the tranquility of Moriag for granted. It would be a long time until she dared ride out alone even for a short time.

“Do you need to sit? You look about to faint.” Ian McRainey studied her. He’d walked up without her notice. The man moved like a cat. On silent feet.

“Nay. I am worried about our people. Our town,” she confessed. Although at first meeting him she’d been taken aback at the man’s handsome face, Elsbeth now considered him a friend. Comfortable around him, she felt at ease to speak freely. He never chastised her lack of decorum, nor did he judge her for not acting like a lady at all times.

“I am too.” He leaned on the wall next to her. “Although I am not surprised that someone would consider this region to be an easy target.”

She let out a long breath. “We have allegiance with the Campbell, and Aiden Stuart has always been a type of sentry who oversaw the security of our lands. I suppose it wasn’t enough.”

“No. The lands are vast and men who wish to have more power would consider it perfect to settle here and move either north or south to fight.” Ian yawned. “I need to sleep. At dawn, I go to Moriag.”

With the grace of a seasoned warrior, he sauntered across the courtyard. Ian was tall, incredibly handsome, and his body was built for war, with a broad back that tapered to a slim waist. Well-defined muscular legs from years of riding, he stood out amongst most men. His dark golden hair was an unruly mess after the day of fighting and distress. Absently, she wondered who his woman was. Elsbeth had never asked him about his private life. Although friends, they didn’t share more than necessary about their life outside the superficial things. How did he look unclothed?

At the picture in her mind of him undressing, her hand went to her chest and she gasped. Where had those thoughts come from? She ran her other hand across her brow. It was the excitement of the day. She was overly tasked and addled by it.

Her mother neared. “Ah, there you are. You’ve done enough, Elsbeth, come inside and let us rest.”

“I agree.” She followed her mother. Just as she was about to enter the keep, she looked to the large tent Ian had headed to. They were only friends. As a laird’s daughter, her husband would be someone of higher stature than Ian McRainey.

They’d patrolled all night. It was almost dawn before the men stopped and set up camp near the loch on Declan Gordon’s lands. Restless at not finding the attackers, Aiden went to his guardsmen. “I am going to circle the area once more on foot. Take care to leave one man on duty at all times.”

The men agreed, knowing how good of a tracker he was and would not come to harm. Once he settled his horse, Aiden made his way into the forest.

The smell of smoke got his attention first and he turned toward Ian’s cottage. They’d been there several times in the past year while hunting. Could it be possible the men were using it to hide? At once a stupid mistake and a wise choice being no one would expect them to be so close.

He drew his sword and went toward it. No horses were nearby, which didn’t make sense. Careful to not make noise, he peered through the narrow window. Unable to make anything out, other than a fire in the hearth, Aiden decided whoever was hiding could not be a warrior. One would never start a fire.

Although a small table blocked the door, he easily shoved it out of the way. Sword held high, he burst into the room.

“No!” In the cot along the wall, Breena sat up, her hair streaming past her shoulders and rounded eyes searching his face. “Don’t kill me.”

Aiden lowered his sword and neared the bed. “What are you doing here?”

She looked past him to the doorway. “Did Robertson send you to fetch me?”

“Nay. The village was attacked again, we are searching for the men responsible.”

Her shoulders lowered and she pushed her tresses back, the motion jutting her breasts out. Through the sheer fabric of her shift, he couldn’t help but notice tantalizing nipples. “So you escaped? Why are you so intent on leaving? It is too dangerous right now for you to be alone.”

“I won’t go back. I’ll kill myself first.” She stood and rushed to him, her hands clenching the front of his tunic with both hands. “Help me, please.”

As if by instinct, he wrapped his arms around her and held her. It surprised him when she relaxed into his chest and laid her head upon it.

Her voice shook. “I do not understand why, but I feel you will protect me. I feel safe with you. Please, stay with me.”

Not exactly sure why she called to him, other than beautiful, a part of him sensed she was his to protect. She didn’t know how true her words were. He wanted nothing more than to ensure she was never harmed. “Come, let’s get some rest. In the morning, I’ll take you to my keep. I will protect you, but we need to talk. I need to understand the circumstances.”

It would stretch his willpower to keep from making love to the beauty. Lying with her was a mistake, he soon realized, when she continued to cling to him once they settled onto the narrow cot.

Aiden gritted his teeth when her full, soft breasts flattened against his side. “I can’t sleep.” He made to get out of the cot when her hand reached for his face.

“Make love to me. I want to feel alive again.”

His body screamed for release at her words and Aiden tried to fight the urge to climb over her and take what he needed from her body, but he hesitated. “You are frightened and don’t know what you say.”

“I know what I need.” Her lips pressed against the bottom of his jawline while her hand slid down from his chest past his stomach. He stopped her hand with his before she felt how hard he was for her. “You.”

“Are you sure of what you speak?”

“Aye. More than sure. I admired you at the inn, wondered what it would be like…with you.”

He didn’t need more encouragement and took her mouth with a hunger he wasn’t aware he possessed. She’d called to him from the instant he’d seen her. Like her, upon first catching a glimpse, he’d immediately imagined her unclothed, her body on full display for him to feast upon.

Circumstances were not as accommodating as he wished. He wanted this woman in his chamber, in his bed, in his arms.

She let out a soft moan and raked her fingers through his hair, pulling him to plunder her mouth.

The plush curves were heavenly as he slid his hands down her back, over the swell of her bottom to cup her with his palms and pull her against his hardness. She let out a sigh and lifted her right leg and slid it down the side of his.

He’d never felt so hard, so hot for a woman and Aiden wondered if it had to do with who she was. A woman so gentile and, yet, demanding his body. That had to be it.

Not able to stand not touching her bare skin, he slid a hand under her shift. Breena’s skin was soft and supple. He took great care to caress each inch that his fingers brushed over.

Finally, a plump breast overfilled his hand and he slid his thumb over the tip, urged on by her soft moans of enjoyment. He pushed the prize out from the confines of the shift and took the tip into his mouth, suckling while he ground between her legs.

Breena grabbed at his britches, pulling at them. “I need you, Aiden.”

“Not yet, beauty. I will ensure you come undone with my mouth first.”

She pushed up into his mouth and he took her breast again, while sliding his hand between her legs. His finger parted her folds until reaching his goal. With the pad of his finger, he flicked over the small bud until she began to shudder. He pulled away and she groaned. “No. Don’t stop, not now.”

He stood and removed his clothing. Once nude, he added another log to the fire and returned to the small bed. “Remove your clothing, Breena. I want to see all of you.”

She sat up and pulled the shift over her head allowing him to take in all of her. Her breasts fell heavy on her chest. Her stomach was softly rounded and her legs were long and shapely. “Lay back and spread your legs.”

For a moment he thought she wouldn’t do it but, after hesitating, she did so. Her chest lifted and fell in rapid succession. She remained aroused. “You’re beautiful like that. On display only for me.”

He kneeled between her legs and pushed them farther apart. She placed a hand on her thigh and he pushed it away. “No, allow me to love you this way. Relax.”

“How can I? I am not sure what you’re about to do.”

He chuckled and leaned forward. With the tip of his tongue, he flicked at her nub.

“Oh!” Breena’s legs trembled.

He laved at her sex a couple more times and then sucked the tiny rosebud into his mouth while Breena mewled and grasped at the bedding and his hair, her legs shaking. Finally she came with such force, the taste of her overwhelmed him. She was delicious.

He climbed over her while she still shook and took his cock in hand. Nudging at her entrance just enough, he released it and drove into her moist heat. She was tight, hot, and very wet. Aiden almost came then and there.

With both hands, he lifted her hips and pulled out just enough before thrusting back into her. Once again, he did so, his breathing already more in gasps.

“You are a perfect fit for me.” He pushed in again and again, not getting enough, while, at the same time, overcome with the need to continue and never stop. He feared his hard lovemaking would hurt her and he wanted to be gentle, but it was impossible. He couldn’t stop plundering her body, taking all he could. She cried out in release again but he could not finish, not yet.

Breena clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she urged him to his finish. She bit at his chest, lost in the oblivion of lovemaking and he could not picture a more beautiful moment.

His balls tightened and he lost his rhythm. He drove into her and fell into darkness as he lost all control, sending all his release into her, his hips continuing to pound while at the same time he felt as if he floated above the bed.

Finally, he fell over her, completely spent. It was hard to catch his breath and gather enough strength to roll away, but somehow he managed to lie on his side and pull her against him. “Are you well? Did I hurt you?” He brushed kisses along her temple.

She snuggled into his chest. “No. I have never felt anything like this. What you did. It was…wonderful.”

Aiden relaxed and closed his eyes. To spend every night like this would be heaven. He’d not allowed himself to think of a permanent relationship. His past attempt at marriage had not gone well. But with this woman, he could not stand the idea of her being with any other man.

She was hand fasted to Robertson. She was tied to another.

“What are you thinking?” She looked up at him.

“That I will do my best to protect you always.”

He pushed to sit. “Go to sleep. Use the coverings and wait for me. I must douse the fire. Do not light another. Someone may come to investigate.”

She made a beautiful sight, the coverings held against her chest, kiss-swollen lips and long, tangled hair down her shoulders as she watched him dress. “Must you go?”

“I have to return or my men will come looking for me.” Aiden stood over the cot and cupped her face. “Breena, promise me. You will wait for my return.”

She studied him for a long moment, her brows lowered. This was not a woman who trusted men. “Aye, very well.”

The entire way back to the camp, he wondered if he should have remained with her. If anyone found Breena, he shuddered to think what they’d do to her. If it happened to be Robertson’s men, he had no doubt the man would punish her severely.

He made a bird call to let his men know he neared so they’d not pierce him with an arrow. Once the call was returned, he joined them.

His first guardsman, Calum, neared and looked him over. “You were gone a long time.”

“Aye. I found a wench at Ian’s cottage.”

“Is that so?” The man’s lips curved. “Comely?”

“Very much so.”

“Can I go see her?”

“Nay. She is one of Ian’s, but she allowed me in her bed with a warning to not tell anyone,” Aiden lied.

Calum frowned. “It’s best we don’t say anything. The archer is not one I wish to cross.”

“Smart man.” Aiden chuckled. “But I did promise to ensure she was safe in case the attackers come this way. I warned her not to use the hearth until I return.” Calum was a good warrior. If anything happened, he could trust the man to go see about Breena. But for now, he would not tell him who she really was.

“The man should care for his woman,” Calum grumbled.

“Aye. I will see to it that he knows she needs his protection,” Aiden replied. “I will escort her back in the morning.”

“’Tis a good idea. It’s not safe for her to be alone out here.”

Chapter Five

Breena woke to the sounds of horses. She’d slept better than in many nights, trusting that Aiden would return for her, take her to his home where she could keep from marrying Robertson.

Although she’d expected him to come alone, she hurried to dress just as two men crashed into the cottage.

Robertson’s men.

“We’ve been looking for ye.” A gruff man stepped forward, his narrowed gaze sliding over her body. “Laird Robertson is not pleased with ye.”

The understatement almost made her burst into hysterical laughter. Instead, she finished pulling on her dress. “I do not wish to return.”

“That is not a choice for you to make, Lady McGalen.” The second man entered the room and gave it a look. “Has anyone else been here? Who helped you escape?”

She considered if Aiden had gone to Robertson. It would not surprise her. “No one. If you are not going to allow me to remain, then let us be on our way.”

When she went toward the door, one of the men grabbed her upper arm. “Or we could wait a bit.” He looked to the other man. “Who’s to say we didn’t find her after being ravished by the attackers?”

A cruel lift of the other man’s lips twisted her stomach. “Aye, ’tis true.”

“If you dare touch me, I will tell him what you did,” Breena told them, her body stiff in a desperate show of bravado. “You would not get away with it.”

“Why would he believe you? After all, you ran away right after the attack.” His grubby hand covered her breast. At the same time, the other man came behind her and took her by the shoulders. “Have ye ever had two men at once?”

Bile rose in her throat and Breena screamed. The man in front of her covered her mouth with his, not a kiss but a punishment.

The sounds of horse hooves hitting the ground sent the two men to action. Swords drawn, one grabbed her arm and held her back while the other rushed to the door. Upon stepping through the threshold, they came face to face with a very menacing Aiden.

The man pulled her back to the doorway while the other went to speak to Aiden. Words were exchanged and Aiden finally nodded and seemed to accept whatever was said. He looked to her, his face devoid of expression. “If you are going directly to the McNeil’s keep then I will follow.”

“There is no need, Laird,” one of her captors said. “We can be trusted to deliver the lady without harm.”

“I am heading that way.” He turned his horse away, not waiting for a response.

Had he turned her in? He didn’t seem at all surprised to find the men there. Breena’s stomach sunk. She didn’t fear whatever punishment awaited her. What struck terror, was the thought of being kept captive for a lifetime. No doubt, part of the consequence of her escape would be to marry Robertson immediately. This time there was no way to get out of it. He’d not give her any opportunity to refuse or time to find another way to leave.

No matter, she would never give up. As of this time, she would also not trust a living soul. What a fool she’d been to trust Aiden Stuart.

She’d not told him about Robertson being behind the attacks. Perhaps if she’d disclosed what she suspected, he’d not have turned her in. But then she would have never known his true nature. A man who made empty promises.

The fact she’d offered her body to him barely bothered her at this point. What was the difference? Lying with one man or another, for a few hours, she’d forgotten her dire situation, the harshness of reality. In Aiden’s arms, she remembered how beautiful things between a man and a woman could be.

They arrived at the McNeil’s keep too soon. She was escorted to a chamber below the main house and locked in. The room was sparse, with only a small bed and a side table with a lantern. Would anyone come to see her beside Robertson? She peered through the tiny window out to the courtyard. Aiden arrived and dismounted. His gaze traveled across the courtyard. One of the McNeil’s guardsmen came to him and, together, they walked inside.

Two hours passed and, finally, Ita came for her. The maid was sullen as she was allowed inside Breena’s small chamber and the door slammed behind her. “Ye shouldna have run, milady. The laird is quite furious. I dunna know what he will do to ye.”

“I don’t care.” Breena sat on her cot. “I must speak to the McNeil. Or to Laird Gordon. Is that possible?”

“Nay,” the maid replied. “I doubt it.”

Breena stalked to the door. “I will begin screaming until someone comes. Please go to Lady Grisella and tell her I wish a word with her. I only wish to apologize for my actions.”

The maid nodded. “Very well. I will go and find her.”

It was a long time before Lady Grisella appeared. The woman sank onto the small bed next to Breena. “Dear, I know you are not looking forward to a marriage to Laird Robertson. But you must accept it. It is your lot.”

Breena’s eyes burned with angry tears. “I hate the man. It is not fair that women do not get choices.”

“I know.” Lady Grisella patted her hand. “But it is the way of our world.”

After checking to make sure no one stood within earshot, Breena moved closer to Lady Grisella. “Robertson is behind the attacks. I swear it.”

The woman thought on her words. When her eyes met Breena’s, it was obvious she didn’t believe the words. “Are you sure you just don’t say it to avoid the marriage?”

Breena shook her head. “I am not that foolish. I saw warriors traveling toward the town speaking of it. Two were guards that came with us. They said Laird Robertson ordered them to attack and to not leave any injured behind. If the man could not mount, they were to deliver a mortal blow.”

Lady Grisella gasped. “My God.”

“Can you please speak to Laird McNeil and impart this information?”

“I can’t,” Lady Grisella glanced to the doorway. “They’ve all gone to set up camp near the village, to keep any new attacks at bay and show the townspeople they are protected. They’ve left very few men behind. Most are Robertson’s.”

Something was about to go terribly wrong. Breena grasped Lady Grisella’s hands. “Where is he? Robertson?”

“He remained here. Claimed not to be fit to battle, but sent half his escort with my husband.”

“What should we do?” Breena wondered if Robertson’s men would turn on their hosts once the rest of their attackers arrived.

“I will send one of my personal guardsmen with a message. My husband’s men that remained here will also be warned.” Lady Grisella looked into Breena’s eyes. “If what you say is true, God help us.”

“You must maintain an illusion not to be aware,” Breena told the woman who quickly nodded in agreement.

Ita walked in, her eyes lowered. “Lady Breena, Laird Robertson wishes to see you now.”

Her stomach tumbled at thinking what the man would do as punishment. A paled Lady Grisella stood. “I will see about the evening meal. It shouldn’t be too long before I send a maid to come and fetch you.” A bit of relief came at knowing the lady would do what she could to ensure Robertson wouldn’t be with her alone for long.

Breena followed a subdued Ita toward the stairwell and then reached for the maid’s arm. “Tell me how have you managed all these years with him.”

The maid swallowed and looked over her shoulder. “We all do what we must, milady. I suggest you don’t anger him in the future. Not all punishment will go to you, but to others that surround him as well.” The maid pulled her arm away and walked.

So Robertson had punished the poor girl and now Ita disliked her. Breena let out a deep breath. Nothing to be done about that right now. She had to figure out how to keep from Robertson’s fists or worse.

They stopped outside a chamber and Ita opened the door for her, not looking at Breena, gaze directed over her shoulder. “The laird will be here shortly.”

It was a waiting chamber of sorts. There was a table with several chairs. Breena stood in the center of the room. Too soon, the door opened and Robertson stepped in. The scowl on his face made the man seem larger as he neared her. Breena remained still, head high, but her gaze downcast.

“Where have you been?” he spat, circling her. “Did you meet someone?”

How much had Aiden told? Breena would not admit to anything. “I was in a cottage south of here. Alone.”

“You fled from me. Did you think to get away with it?” He spoke with a pleasant tone.

The strange lightness in his voice made her skin crawl. Breena fought to keep from crumbling to the floor as her knees threatened to give way. “It is not my wish to marry you. I have told you in the past. Allow me to go as I will not be a good wife to you.”

“You little bitch.” A meaty hand circled her forearm and he yanked her around to face him. “Of course, I will not release you.”

“Why would you want to marry someone who dislikes you?” Breena finally met his gaze only to see pure hatred. She felt her eyes widen. The man abhorred her.

Robertson took her chin with the other hand. His fingers dug into her cheeks and she winced. “I prefer it, actually. The things I like to do are not things a man will do to a woman he cares for. You see, I will make you scream in my bed. You will share it not just with me, but with other men. Two or three at a time will take you as I watch. They will make you cry in both pain and passion.”

All breath left her. “You are mad.”

“Shut up.” Robertson released her face and pulled her to the table. “Bend over.”

“No.” She attempted to pull away, but he grabbed her hair and slammed her down onto the table. “Stop. You’re hurting me.” Her voice croaked when he held her around the neck with one hand. With the other he lifted her skirts, baring her bottom.

“How about a quick lesson in what I do to a woman who dares to defy me?” The sting of his first strike on her bottom was dulled by the anger that coursed through her. At the next two strikes, she began to struggle.

Robertson laughed. “This is nothing.” He motioned to Ita, who watched with a strange interest. Ita neared and lifted a leather strap from a chair Breena had not noticed before. “I’ll hold her. You will strike her until your arm gets tired. If it’s less than twenty lashes, then I will lash you.”

The snap of the leather on her already tender skin brought a cry from Breena. Another strike and tears began to fall. Robertson covered her mouth and spoke into her ear. “Once you’re lashed, I will fuck you, Breena. You will not enjoy it as I will not be gentle.”

He continued to hold her down and spoke to Ita. “Continue.”

Before the maid could strike again, there was a knock at the door. Robertson groaned. “Go see who it is.” Ita put the strap down and shuffled to the door.

One of the household staff, a young man, was at the door. His eyes widened at seeing Breena being held down by Robertson, but he looked only to the laird. “Lady Grisella requests your presence for the evening meal, Laird.”

Robertson released Breena and shoved her away from him. “I will be there shortly. Let your mistress know that Lady Breena will not be eating this evening.”

Once the door closed, he turned to her. The backhanded slap sent her to the floor. He pulled her to stand by her hair holding it high until she had to stand on her toes and slapped her again. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. “You are a rare beauty, Breena. I don’t believe I will tire of you for years.” His breath fanned her throbbing cheeks. “You will do so many things to please me in the time to come.” He pushed her down to her knees. “Untie your bodice.”

Her hands trembled as she undid the fastenings. Robertson leaned on the table and watched with fascination. The bastard enjoyed other’s suffering. “Now hold your breasts up.”

“That’s right.” His breathing hitched when she cupped her breasts. “Pinch the tips.”

Breena swallowed, doing what he said. He came to her. “No, not like that. Hold them.”

When she did, he took each nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed until she whimpered. “Like that.” He leaned forward and took one in his mouth, making loud suckling noises while his hand moved between her legs. Once again there was a knock at the door and Robertson cursed. “What is it?”

A guard entered, his eyes locking to Breena’s exposed breasts before looking to Robertson. “I apologize, Laird. You sent for me?”

He pulled away and looked down into Breena’s face. “You will learn to enjoy pain with me. Soon you will not be able to enjoy being fucked unless it hurts.”

Bile came up her throat. Breena got to her feet and pulled her bodice closed, not daring to move away.

“Tonight you will not have any enjoyment. You will only hurt. Your punishment for attempting to escape.” His hand yanked her against him and pulled her head back until she was forced to look up at him. “We will finish this later.” He kissed her hard until the pain from the cut to her lip made her whimper. Robertson looked to the guard. “Unfortunately, we cannot finish this today. The damn laird’s wife is serving the evening meal too early.” He stalked from the room.

The guard and Ita escorted her back to the small room near the courtyard. Once alone, she paced the small space, not able to stand still. What awaited her angered more than scared Breena. She vowed the bastard would die for what he did to her. She wasn’t sure how, but one day she’d find a way to kill him.

Her life with Robertson would be hell. If he took over the region here, it was too far to send word to her family. Not that they would do much to help her. Disheartened, she allowed tears to slide down her face. If only Aiden would come to her. If only she could get word to him about the betrayal, it was possible he’d take her to safety. Yes, even a loveless relationship as a laird’s mistress was far better than what awaited her with Robertson.

Chapter Six

Aiden couldn’t forget the look of anger on Breena’s face when she’d been escorted out of the cottage. She believed he’d been the one to tell of her whereabouts. Truthfully, he was surprised she’d not been discovered sooner. In hindsight, he should have carried her back to camp and kept her safe. Leaving her alone was a stupid mistake.

The large camp they’d set up went almost completely around the village. They erected tents and most of the men patrolled. The younger ones enjoying the attention of the village lasses, who brought food and water to them.

Most of the local families were relocated to inside the village. As many as possible of their animals were corralled and settled into the Campbell and McNeil courtyards.

Aiden’s own keep was too far to be of use. Although worried about the intruders destroying his home, he took his small staff to remain at the Gordon’s until after it was deemed safe to return.

A horn sounded and he went to see what happened. A young man came running to him. “Laird McNeil requests your presence immediately.”

Once he arrived at the McNeil’s tent, he met Declan just outside. Both looked at each other with the same question. Obviously whatever happened was new. Inside, the Campbell was already in residence. The older man sat with his dog at his feet.

The McNeil called to one of his guardsmen. “Ensure no one is within earshot. Walk all the way around the tent and if it’s clear, let me know.” They sat in silence until the man stuck his head in.

“It’s clear. I will continue to go around.”

“Repeat your message.” The McNeil motioned for a man who stood in the center of the room to speak.

“Lady Grisella sent me with a message that she received from Lady Breena.” Aiden’s breath halted for a moment at the mention of the name. The man continued. “According to Lady Breena, she overheard warriors speaking when she ran off into the forest. The man in charge of the group who attacked the village was one of Robertson’s men. He also ordered that no one be left alive, but to be struck dead if they could not mount.” The man let out a breath. “I warned our guardsmen before leaving to keep vigil, but to not speak of it.”

Everyone looked around at each other. Finally, Aiden spoke. “’Tis true. I saw one of the warriors strike his own dead before riding off.”

“As did I,” Declan added. “What could Robertson hope to gain from attacking us?”

Anger tensed the McNeil’s jaw. “Robertson is a power hungry man who, no doubt, expected this region to be easy to overtake. He has land in the lowlands, but not much, as it is hard to gain power over the large clans there. I suspect his plan was to bring this region under attack and then find a way to drive us out.”

Declan spit on the ground. “He didn’t think we’d unite. Figured we would not come together.”

The Campbell got to his feet. “Our wives and families are in danger.”

Aiden looked to the worried man. “He doesn’t suspect we know. If they are planning an attack, I believe his men who are here with us are on orders to strike and kill from within. We must gather them immediately. After, we should send a group to deal with Robertson.”

“They will attack today. I am sure of it.” Declan Gordon let out a long aggravated breath. “We’ll be prepared. They have no idea how many men we have now. I say keep two hundred here and send one hundred back to the McNeil keep.”

“He may have sent a spy. Someone could have told him how many we number by now.”

The laughter from Declan was without humor. “He will not be able to match our numbers. Whether he sends an attack today or not, he will meet his end tonight. He killed many of my people. For that, he will pay.”

“Aye!” all the lairds cried out.

Robertson’s men were brought to the tent and confronted. Not one put up much resistance at the lairds’ requests to lay down their swords. Most, it seemed, were not loyal to Robertson, but forced by circumstance. Soon, they learned of the man’s cruelty and abuse of the men and their families. Robertson took everything from his people and the only way they could provide for their families was to work for Robertson.

The men were eager to rid themselves of the man, but were reluctant when faced with the possibility of their loved ones suffering the consequences.

“Side with us,” Aiden told their leader. “You will see we are large in numbers and strong in strength.”

Robertson’s ten men rode along with the lairds to a hilltop. From there, the view of over three hundred was astounding. “You see, we will not have a problem defeating your laird. However I ask that you remain behind with some of our guards to protect the village.” They agreed, understanding they were not to be fully trusted. The men thanked the lairds before riding back with double the number of local men to guard the village.

In the distance, a horseman rode fast towards them. It was a messenger from the McNeil keep. The guard rode to them and bowed his head. “Laird. All is well at the keep. At the end of the evening meal, Robertson’s men will be taken prisoner. They will be killed if they resist. There are another ten and twenty in the forest to the south. They head here.”

“Send word to not kill those at the keep. We have learned most of the men do not have a choice in serving Robertson,” the McNeil commanded. He looked to Aiden and then to the Campbell and Gordon Lairds. “I believe the time is at hand. We must ride forth before the sun falls.”

The battle did not last long. The men who fought for Robertson lay down their swords at seeing the sheer number of men they were against. Some were swords for hire and others from the lowlands.

Inside the McNeil’s keep, Robertson was held by guards, his hands bound, in the center of the courtyard. The large man began yelling obscenities as soon as Aiden and the McNeil arrived. “Release me at once. What is the meaning of this? A small laird like you cannot stand against my men. They will retaliate if you harm me. You have no reason to do this. I am your guest.”

McNeil neared. “The men who attacked are from your lands. They confessed to it prior to meeting their death.”

There was a gleam of hope in Robertson’s eye. “Of course they would lay blame on me. Men will say anything to save their hides. I’m sure they were not my men, but spies who followed me here to kill me and any friend of mine. A result of a clash between clans.” His bulging eyes went to each of their faces. “Now release me and my men and we will be on our way.”

“I’m afraid that is not possible.” Aiden neared and held up a missive with Robertson’s seal upon it. “One of them kept this.”

“To make it seem as if I am truly at fault. Don’t you see?” The man began to pant, his face gleaming with sweat. He looked to McNeil. “You have known me for years. What would I have to gain from attacking you? If I wanted to do so, it would be easy. I have many men.”

They pulled the man to the gates where he could see across the field. The hundreds of warriors remained on horseback and his eyes widened. His mouth fell open. “I didn’t know you were so many,” he finally said. When the Campbell neared atop his steed, Robertson’s legs buckled at the sight of the most powerful clans in the country.

Laird Campbell looked down on the hapless man. “Today you die. No one crosses a Campbell and no one kills my people. The McNeils, Gordons, and Stuarts are my people here.”

Robertson’s angry eyes bore into Aiden. “If you harm me, you declare war. The Robertsons are many.”

“I find it doubtful anyone will miss you.” Aiden drew his sword and slashed the man’s throat. “To hell with ye, Robertson.”

The man’s mouth gaped, his eyes rounded and he flopped to the side.

“Well done,” the Campbell pronounced. “I will leave Robertson’s men to you to deal with. If they wish to return to their homes, they may. Those who prefer to remain could, perhaps, be given land.” He met Aiden’s gaze. “Take the land between our keeps to the west until reaching the river’s edge. I’m sure some of them will want to settle and start a new life. They will be under your lairdship.”

Aiden’s throat constricted at the Campbell’s announcement. The growth of his holdings, as well as settling of new families, was a gift beyond price. He lowered to one knee. “I am forever in your debt.”

The Campbell waved it away as if it were nothing. “You have served our region well for years. All of us have relied on knowing a warrior lived amongst us for protection.”

He’d not realized how often, indeed, either the McNeil or the Campbell had asked favors of him and his small group of men in patrolling their lands. He’d chased off many would-be robbers and attackers, over the years. Never considered how much they depended on him for such. If anything, serving the powerful lairds had helped him keep from long days without anything to do. He and his men had, indeed, been busier than he’d realized.

He went to his horse. It was time to check on the men who traveled with Robertson. There were over forty of them. He wondered how many would choose to remain.

Chapter Seven

When Breena stretched upon awakening, she was glad not to be sore any longer. It had been four days since Robertson was killed. Although she’d been living at the McNeil’s, soon she would have to decide what to do. They’d been kind and not asked her plans. No doubt, assuming she’d return to her family as soon as she was able to travel. Breena had remained secluded in the chamber, not wanting to appear at dinner with a swollen and bruised face.

It would be rude to put off appearing at dinner any longer. Although the swelling was down and the purpling on the sides of her face remained, her face was healed.

Ita left to return to her family. Breena had insisted she do so with two guardsmen who wished to return. Ita had asked to remain as her personal maid and, although she felt bad for the maid, Breena did not trust her any longer.

Breena had seen a gleam of something disturbing in Ita’s eyes when the maid held the leather strap. Perhaps as Robertson had said, Ita was now used to the infliction of pain in a way that was not natural.

She’d given Ita a good amount of money to help her live until she found other employment. It was the least Breena could do for her. There was no telling how much Ita had suffered after so many years with Robertson.

She sighed, not looking forward to getting up and appearing at the meal. Once she faced Laird McNeil, she’d be forced to discuss her plans. At the moment, she hoped to regain her dowry funds and settle in Moriag. In truth, the prospect of returning home was not an option. Her parents did not want her and she would not take a chance they’d marry her off yet again.

After a knock on the door, a maid entered. “Lady McGalen, you have a visitor. He is downstairs in the study.”

“Who is it?” Breena couldn’t imagine anyone coming to speak to her.

“Laird Stuart.”

“Assist me to dress, please.”

Why would Aiden Stuart come and see her? Did they plan to punish her, thinking she was aware of Robertson’s plans all along? She hurried to dress. The sooner she explained the situation, the better.

Moments later, she took a fortifying breath and entered the study. Aiden stood near the window. Wearing his tartan over his britches, he looked more handsome than she remembered. His red hair was pulled back into a queue with a thin leather strap. His broadsword on his side, he looked every inch a Highland warrior. “Hello, Breena.”

His deep voice washed over her like a soothing rain.

She gave a short bow of her head. “Laird. I see you are well after the fighting. I trust you were not injured.”

The two-toned gaze met with hers and the corner of his lips lifted. She swallowed at remembering his lips on her skin. “Not a scratch anywhere on my body.”

She refused to think of his bare skin. Instead, she let out a breath and narrowed her gaze at him. “You turned me into Robertson that day. Why?”

A brow lift was her only reply. A maid entered with a tray and two glasses upon it. “Mead, milady?” The girl brought her a glass and Breena took it.

After the maid left, Breena took a sip of the sweet liquid and lifted her eyes to Aiden. “Why?”

He moved closer until she thought he’d touch her. The distance was so close between them, his heated breath caressed her cheek. “It was stupid of me to leave you alone. I should have taken you with me. When I returned for you, Robertson’s men were already there.”

“I don’t believe you.” She took a step away and turned, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “I am so very tired of being taken for a fool.”

He walked around her until coming face to face again. “What will you do? The McNeil is prepared to send you back to your clan. With escort, of course.”

“Of course.” When she lifted her gaze to his, she was shocked by the hurt in his expression. He blinked and looked away.

“I suppose it’s best. You will be glad to be amongst those you love.”

“If I had a choice I would remain here.” Her voice trembled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and confusion. “I do not wish to return to the lowlands. I doubt my family will welcome me back, as they were glad to be rid of me.”

He neared and lifted her chin to him. “Why do you say this?”

Breena could not remain distant from him any longer, needed his touch. She placed her palm flat against the hardness of his chest. “I do not know where to start. Without a choice, it matters not either way.”

“I came to give you a choice.” Aiden covered her hand with his. “Live with me.”

A part of her wanted to leap with excitement at considering a life not only away from her family, but with him as well. Her heart, however, was crushed that he’d not offered marriage. “Do you ask out of honor? Because of what happened between us.”

He nodded. “Yes. I am duty bound to protect you. And…I do not wish you to go.”

“You are an honest man. Thank you for giving me a choice. I accept your offer.” He pulled her against him and took her mouth with his. She didn’t hold back how much she hungered for the taste of him, to feel the security of his strength.

Like cold water falling over her, she realized that as his lover, she had no say if he took a wife. There was the possibility he’d send her away once he married to have heirs or to join with a neighboring clan. She wasn’t sure she trusted him fully as yet.

His arms were so secure surrounding her, she wished to remain there forever. On this day, for the present, she’d not worry about what came after. Today would be about her first step toward a new future.

Aiden’s keep was not as large at the McNeil’s, but it was still impressive. She’d come from the lowlands where homes were smaller and she had to admit, his dwarfed hers. Once inside the courtyard, he assisted her from her horse and introduced her to an older woman who, by the keys hanging from her apron, was the housemistress. The woman gave her a quick assessing look before turning to her laird. “Which room should I prepare for the lady?”

Both she and the woman looked at him waiting a reply. Aiden cleared his throat. “She will be in the chamber adjoining mine. Please send Glenda to come and assist Lady Breena as she is without a lady’s maid.”

A fast rush of heat climbed up her throat to her face. Aiden did not waste time acknowledging to his household she was to be his leman. A lover.

“I am here, Laird,” a tiny, young woman came forward and bowed to her. “Come with me, milady, I’ll get you settled with a cup of tea until your chamber is ready.”

Before following the maid, Breena looked to thank Aiden, but he’d already gone.

Life in Aiden’s keep was much simpler than at her family’s or the McNeil’s. With only ten guardsmen and a staff of about the same, she found herself at a long table with only Aiden for dinner company the first evening. His mood seemed sullen while they ate. She refused to have a silent partner for the meal.

“You lead a quiet life.” She lifted a slice of meat to her mouth.

Her mismatched eyes met his. “Especially now that my sister is married and living at the Gordon’s property.”

“What do you do to pass the time?”

He stood and went to a sideboard to refill his own goblet. The maid nearby did not seem discomfited by it. She gathered he often did for himself. “I am a man who’s lived a simple life. You can say I’ve been a loner my entire life. For five years, I lived on my ship. Then I came here when my father died to care for my sister and the surrounding lands. My only friend was the McNeil. But now I count Declan Gordon and Ian McRainey as friends as well.”

“What about me?” Breena blurted. It was too late to take it back. Of course he did not count her as a friend.

“I hope we can become friends as well, Breena. I admire you.”

Her breath caught and her mouth fell open. “For?”

“It takes bravery to approach a complete stranger and ask for help. From your bruises, I take it you attempted to fight Robertson’s attacks. If I hadn’t killed him already, upon seeing your injuries, I would have gladly done so.”

Breena could not think of anything to say.

Aiden stood and walked the length of the table, his eyes never leaving hers. “Come to my bed now.”

His large bed loomed, the focal point of his room with four large wooden posts and an intricately carved headboard. The fur bedding had recently been brushed and set neatly onto the bed.

“Come.” Aiden held his hand out and she took it. He pulled her close and took her mouth with determination. The heat of the kiss sent a searing fire through her veins to every inch of her body until she could have melted into nothingness. She gripped his wide shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric, fearing that if she let go, she’d disappear. His large arms rounded her body bringing her flat against him. In the comfort of his embrace, she was lost in him. Nothing mattered, nothing existed, not even the air, only Aiden. Everything was Aiden.

His face was buried in her neck and he held her without speaking. Gripping her as hard as she did he. As if needing something.

Before she could speak, his began unfastening her bodice, his heated gaze on her skin. “I need you, Breena.”

Her fingered trembled as she untied the laces to his tunic and helped him remove it over his head.

The folds of fabric piled atop one another on the floor and finally she stood fully nude before him. Still wearing his britches, he traced his fingers from her throat to her breasts. “You are amazing.”

She moved closer and lifted her mouth to him and he took it again, his right hand fondling her breast, while the other slid down her back to cup her bottom and pull her against him.

Finally, he lifted her and carried her to the bed. Lying on the warm furs, she watched him start a fire in the hearth, enjoying the view of his muscular back as he moved with swift efficiency.

“Aiden. Come to me.”

When he undressed, her breath caught at the evidence of his arousal on full display. He was thick, engorged, and hard. For her. His chest lifted and lowered with each harsh breath.

Aiden came over her, his muscular body felt perfect, not too heavy atop her. She ran her hands down his back and to the dip just above his butt and then raked her nails up.

His lips pressed kisses across her shoulder to her breasts. He moved from one to the other giving each attention, suckling her nipples into his mouth while his hands kneaded her flesh. Breena closed her eyes, overwhelmed by all the sensations. More, she needed more of him, to be completely overtaken.

His mouth moved to between her breasts while his hands encircled her waist. She threaded her fingers through his silky hair as he progressed, his tongue laving down her stomach to between her legs. Breena cried out and began to shake.

Darkened eyes looked up to her. “I want to taste you more. I want to devour you, but I can’t keep from taking you. I can’t be gentle.”

She grabbed his face and pulled him up. “Good, because I want you inside me, now.”

After pushing her legs apart, he settled between them and thrust in hard, filling her completely. Both let out a moan at joining.

Chapter Eight

With each thrust, he took more and more of the beautiful woman beneath him. He was drunk, intoxicated by her body, her exquisiteness. If she knew how much power she had over him, he shuddered to think what she could do to his heart.

Every minute of the day since being with her, Breena had been ever present in his mind. And now. She was his. No, that was not correct.

He was hers.

“Aiden!” She came with force, her body shaking and her mouth wide open. He would not last much longer. He had already begun the climb to the point of losing control. His body was working on instinct, his hips moving in rapid succession moving in and out of her now plaint body.

His balls tightened harder than they’d already been and he held on to the headboard in an effort to stay grounded, but lost the battle and came with such force his back arched up, his body stiffened and quaked.

Spent, he could not hold himself above her and collapsed.

Her soft lips pressed kisses to his temple while her hands moved down his back.

How he loved this woman. The emotion battled with an enormous fear that threw a heavy, thick blanket over his mind. He’d only been in love once and she died before they could be together. When Halldis, the Norse woman he loved, died, Aiden wished for death as well. He loved her so much, dying would have been a welcome respite from the pain. But now, at that very moment, he realized that love was nothing like he felt now.

What he felt for Breena scared him into not knowing what to do. A part of him wanted to send her back to her clan. Had almost done so.

After talking to the McNeil, the man advised he marry Breena. To make her his wife and ensure she was protected. Once she told him about her family, how they did not care for her, the decision was made. He could not send her back.

The fear in him was irrational, crippling. On some level he understood it. Was it the way of love? Did it always bring great dread with it?

She cupped his face. “What are you thinking? Is something wrong?”

He’d vowed never to lie to her. If she were to be his wife, he would not start by deceiving Breena. “I am wondering what to do.”

Her beautiful, brown eyes met his and she frowned. “If you mean about me, then I can help. Although I never expected to become a leman, that seems to be my lot. I am willing to move away to live in another smaller house perhaps, if you need to seek a wife.”

“Move away?” Is that what she wanted? Aiden blinked trying to figure out how to explain himself. “No. I do not wish you to be away from me.”

His heart skipped when her lips curved. “I am to remain here with you, then?”

“Aye.”

“What if I…” she blushed. “What if I become with child?”

“Then I’ll be a happy man.” He kissed the crease between her brows. “I must explain.”

“Laird!” There were hard knocks on the door.

“Enter,” Aiden called out.

The maid entered and looked away at Aiden’s nudity. He stood and wrapped his tartan around his waist. “Go on, Glenda, what is it?”

“There are men downstairs. They claim to have come for Lady Breena. Her brother and guardsmen, I believe.”

His legs almost buckled. “Tell them I’ll be down momentarily.” He turned to the bed to see Breena sitting up, the bedding held up to cover her body. Rounded eyes met his. “I don’t want to return with him.”

“If your clan wishes to reclaim you, I cannot stop them.” He hated the effect of his words when she gasped and her bottom lip trembled.

With regal pride, she slid to the edge of the bed and lifted her chin, her shoulders back. “I will dress and ask for my things to be repacked.”

“No.” He went to her. “I will ask your brother for your hand in marriage. I do not wish to lose you.”

She searched his face as if not believing him. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I…” The maid returned. “Sorry, Laird, he demands you come down at once.”

“Very well.” Aiden grabbed his tunic and snatched it on. Then he placed his boots on and adjusted his tartan, bringing some of the fabric over his shoulder. Once he did, he placed a clan pin upon his breast to hold it in place.

Just before stepping through the door, he took his broadsword and fastened it to his waist.

He rushed down the steps and stormed into the antechamber where a man stood surrounded by his guardsmen. “I don’t take well to taking orders in my own home.” He faced the man who stepped forward.

Almost at his height with no resemblance to Breena, the man wore a heavy beard and was dirty from his travels. Breena’s brother did not seem the least bit intimidated. “I come for Breena. She must return home now that she is without husband.”

Aiden looked to his men. “She does not wish to return.”

“She does not have a say in this. Our father found out disturbing information about Robertson and dispatched me to retrieve her. Once here, I find he was killed. By you.” The man narrowed his eyes at him. “And I also find that you took her.”

“I asked her if she wished to return or live with me. She had a choice.”

“To be your leman?” Her brother was incredulous. “She is a lady.”

“I will not explain myself to you.” Aiden could not help the anger in his voice. “Now, I ask that you leave.”

“As a representative of her clan, I invoke the right to take my sister home.”

Her brother had every right and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop the man. Not without bringing the wrath of their clan upon his people. And he would not be responsible for bringing war again to Moriag.

“Eoghan. I am surprised my father would send you after me regardless the circumstance.” Breena entered the room. Aiden never tired of her graceful movements. She seemed to glide across the space to stand next to him. “As Aiden said, I do not wish to return.”

Her brother’s nostrils flared. “And as I stated, you do not get a choice.”

Aiden’s guardsmen entered the room. There was a momentary standoff as warriors from both sides measured each other up. Aiden motioned for his men to stand down.

Breena’s hand shook as she slid it up to her breast. “Why does he want me to return?”

“He has arranged a match for you that will benefit our clan.”

“I am prepared to marry Breena,” Aiden interjected, not about to lose her to another only for the benefit it would bring her father.

Her eyes were full of warmth when meeting his. “I accept Aiden Stuart’s offer of marriage.”

“I deny the request.”

Aiden saw his men’s hands inch to their swords, prepared to do battle. To fight for him. The exhausted men did not care for themselves and, in that moment, he felt pride in his clan. It was overshadowed by the fact he had no choice either.

“I wish to speak to your father.” He looked to Eoghan. “Joining with the Stuart Clan means I will offer my loyalty and sword. Also the same of my men.”

The man looked to the ceiling. “I deny the request. My father has already given his word to the lesser Laird Douglas. His clan is great and powerful.”

Even in the Highlands, the power of the Clan Douglas was well known. To a smaller clan like the McGalens, it meant great power. Aiden wanted to scream in frustration. “Surely your father cares for what Breena feels.”

Eoghan’s gaze was warm when looking to his sister. “Let us go, Breena. I do not want to waste more time.”

“No.” She looked to Aiden. “You have more men than he does. Stop him.”

Aiden did not meet her gaze. “I cannot. This region is a peaceful one. I will not bring war again. I am sorry.”

He watched them escort her from the house and went up to the balcony to watch as they rode away. She never looked back.

In the privacy of his chamber, Aiden collapsed to the floor. Hot tears fell down his cheeks.

Breena had not said a word, but turned on her heel and walked out of his home. Out of his life. He clutched the shift she’d left behind to his chest and tried to breathe, but his breath caught and he finally let go and cried.

Chapter Nine

The road home was long and she felt ready to pass out from sheer exhaustion. Not wanting to give the Highlander a chance to change his mind, her brother had hurried back to the safety of the lowlands. Four days later, they neared her home and, although her heart ached, she looked around the familiar landscape and couldn’t help but compare the difference between this and Aiden’s home. The plush mountains and misty air had turned to flatter ground and clear vision for a long distance. She looked to Eoghan. “Can we rest please? I fear I will faint.”

Her brother let out an impatient breath. “Fine.” Eoghan was not a cruel person. As a matter of fact, of her siblings, she was closest to him. He’d always been protective of her and given her small presents growing up when her parents slighted her.

Once they dismounted, she went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Who is father marrying me to?”

“Fergal Douglas from the smaller Douglas Clan to the northeast.” His reply was without emotion. But he let out a breath. “Do you love Aiden Stuart?”

“Aye.” Her eyes misted and she blinked away the moisture. “But his feelings must not be as strong. He did not fight for me.”

“He had little choice.” Eoghan’s comment surprised her, but she could not let go of the resentment. “I will not tell father about him.”

“Thank you.”

The reception upon her arrival was as cold as she expected. No one greeted them in the courtyard except her maid who rushed forward and hugged her. Once she was ensconced in her chamber, she sent word that she was too tired to join the family for the evening meal.

Without any haste, her request was accepted and a tray of food brought to her. She ate very little. Her stomach was in knots with grief. Each time thoughts of Aiden formed, her chest constricted and she fought back tears. “I will not cry for him.” The words were in vain as tears fell anyway. Of course, he’d only offered marriage because of honor, but she doubted he felt much more relief than not at Eoghan’s refusal of his offer.

There was a brisk knock on the wall and her mother entered. Dressed in her favorite dark color, she looked drawn and thinner than when Breena had left. “I see you’ve settled in.” Her cold eyes scanned the chamber. “Word has been sent. The Douglas and his son will be here two days hence. Ensure you are prepared.”

“By that you mean what exactly, Mother? I doubt anything I say or do will change the agreement.”

“Do not tire me with your lack of manners, Breena.” Her mother studied her face. “What can you possibly be crying about? You are to marry a young laird. You will be the mistress of his home. They are powerful.”

“Is that how you felt when you were sent here to marry? What about my father? Did you make the choice to leave him?”

Her mother paled. “I accepted my father’s decision. Your father was dead.”

“He died?” This was the first time her mother spoke of him. “What happened to him?”

She watched her mother straighten and look down at her. Something flickered in her normally cold gaze. “He died trying to come for me. Stupid of him. I would never go against my father’s wishes, even if I carried his child.”

“So you married Laird McGalen knowing you were pregnant with me?”

The fate of her brave father made her already burning eyes well up again. “How could you be so cruel? You must have cared for him to…”

“No, Breena. I did not care for him…I loved him. But I also understood I could never be a guardsman’s wife. To live in a hut somewhere would have been worse than death. I was young and impulsive and was lucky that McGalen, your stepfather, accepted me.”

Her mother went to the door. “Enough of this. Ensure you prepare to leave once again. You will be hand fasted to the young Douglas the day after he arrives.”

“What was his name?”

Her mother looked past her and Breena could see the inner struggle. How hard it was to speak his name. “Brenan.”

Breena gasped and covered her face with both hands. When she looked up, her mother was gone.

The next day, she stood atop the keep and looked across the land. It was a sunny day and she lifted her face to the sun. Just one more day and, once again, she’d be tied to a man. Funny how she’d probably not find herself in such a predicament if she were plain of face. Many had asked for her hand in marriage over the years since she came of age. Most were turned down as her father refused to give her a dowry.

Robertson had accepted a small dowry in exchange for her clan’s loyalty. The man didn’t need her small clan. She never understood why he’d wanted to marry her, other than the possibility of one day taking her father’s position. But unless the man planned to kill both her brothers, that was far-fetched. The man had been wealthy and her father was probably taken with that. No, he’d wanted her for his own demented reasons. To torture and punish.

In her heart, she was glad to have known love. To have lain with Aiden Stuart and to have felt the wonderful sensations that came from joining with someone she loved. If she never felt anything more than contentment with Douglas, she’d be grateful.

The acceptance made her feel lighter. It was best to accept that Aiden was in the past. A part of her to cherish. She would not be bitter and angry at the man for not standing up to Eoghan. No, she understood the need to keep peace. Her clan knew little else than clashes and war. It was a sad life.

The peace in Moriag was a treasure.

Horsemen approached from the west and she bowed her head and prayed. Seemed the Douglas came early.

An hour later, Breena entered the great hall to dine. She made her way to the high board, eyes downcast. Her father spoke. “This is Breena, who you come to inquire about.”

Two men were seated to her father’s left. Neither was familiar and she wondered which one of the two she was to marry. A male servant assisted her to sit next to the one closest to the end.

The man stood and helped her settle. He was about the same age as Aiden and she was astounded that his hair color was the same shade of red. She didn’t need that reminder. Quickly she looked around him to the other man. This one was older, with the same shade of hair color.

Her father met her gaze and his eyes narrowed. “Breena, these men are our neighbors to the west. They are from a neighboring clan. Laird Stuart comes to inquire as to whether I’d accept his nephew’s offer for marriage. It seems you are quite in demand these days.”

She felt her eyes round and she looked to the older man who smiled at her. “My nephew, Aiden, awaits your father’s reply. He cannot be here today.”

“As I said earlier, the Douglas has already asked,” her father interceded.

The Stuart did not lose his smile when he looked to her father. “Our clan is on friendly terms with Douglas. I am sure they will not stand in the way of a love match.”

“Love?” her father barked out in laughter. “This is ridiculous. My daughter, up until a few days ago, was hand fasted to Creag Robertson. I will not accept your request, Laird. But if you wish, I have another daughter for your nephew. I have a younger one who is without prospect at the moment.”

“I ask that you reconsider.”

“The Douglases are a large clan. They have power and can protect my smaller one. I cannot forgo such an alliance for the sake of love.” Her father’s words dripped with disdain.

Breena was not sure how to feel. Aiden loved her. The Stuart had said “love match”. But why was Aiden not there? She dared not ask for fear her father would anger. At the same time, she needed to know.

She leaned closer to the man beside her. “Are you a Stuart as well?”

“Aye. I am Innis Stuart, Laird Stuart’s son.” He motioned to the man beside him.

“Why could Aiden not come?” she whispered.

Innis turned to her. “He was injured on his journey here. Barely made it to our keep before falling from his horse.”

“What happened?” She could barely swallow from fear he could die.

“Robbers.” He must have seen the anxiety on her face. “He will recover. Will be prepared to come for you.” He let out a breath. “If your father accepts.”

“He won’t.” She lifted her cup to her lips, but then realizing she could not possibly swallow, put it back down. “Tell Aiden I love him as well and wish things were different.”

“You give up too easily.”

She looked into his eyes and was astounded to see they did not match in color. “You have his eyes.”

“I am older than he, therefore, he has mine.” The man chuckled and her father glared at them.

After the meal, Breena did her best to fight the ache in her heart. Could it be true that Aiden fought for her? For them?

She walked into her chamber and closed her eyes. God, what if she was with child? Would the babe suffer the same fate she did? To live with a father who hated the reminder that his wife had lain with another prior to him? She could not do it.

Rushing to her wardrobe, she grabbed a bag and shoved a dress and two shifts into it. Once that was completed, she added a pair of shoes and her jewelry, which wasn’t much.

After donning her heavy cloak, she went out and down the hallway toward the back of the keep. The back stairs were mainly used for the servants. She hoped not to run in to anyone who would ask questions.

The maids should be busy cleaning; the lads, the same. She hoped to make it as far as the side of the keep and to the stables to her horse. Guards would not expect anyone to be about, it was not dark yet. She stowed her bag under her cloak and moved slowly as if out for an evening stroll.

When she turned a corner, she let out a breath and eyed the distance to the stables. She looked to the sky. “Please, help me.”

Just as she took a step, a hand grabbed her arm. Breena gasped and turned. “Mother, what are you doing out here?”

“The better question is where do you think to go?”

Chapter Ten

Aiden sat tall in his saddle. His side still ached from the beating he’d taken. Damn robbers had gone off with his favorite sword. He was lucky to be alive as they’d only wanted money and upon hearing his cousin’s horses nearing, had left in a hurry.

When he neared the unfamiliar small cottage on the edge of the village, he braced, hoping it wasn’t a trap. He lowered to the ground and looked at his uncle and cousin. “Wait for me here.”

They both dismounted and stood beside their steeds.

The door was not locked and he stepped into the dark interior. The small space was neat. Every item in its place. An older woman started and jumped to her feet. “Are you Aiden Stuart?”

“Aye.”

“You must go immediately. Make haste.” She looked over her shoulder and back to him. “Go.”

“Where is she?”

“I’m here, Aiden.” Breena came from a small adjoining room and rushed into his arms. His large palms cupped her face and Aiden kissed her. Her eyes shined with unshed tears. “You came for me.”

The days since he’d last seen her were like years. It was impossible to imagine a life without Breena. “I can’t live without you.”

“Even if it brings war to your land?”

“It will not.”

He brought her against him and lifted her face. “The Douglas has withdrawn his offer.”

He pulled her back outside and to the awaiting horses. “Come, we have much to discuss. Tonight, we will stay at my uncle’s home. Then we leave for Moriag in the morning.”

“I don’t understand.” Breena walked around the bedchamber that night, too nervous to relax. Having a hard time believing she was there with Aiden and that he’d come for her. “My mother helped me get to the cottage. She said someone would come for me there. I thought she meant the Douglas.”

“She sent a messenger to me.” Aiden wrapped his arms around her and held her against him. “The messenger said he’d already stopped at the Douglas keep and told them you were carrying my child and asked him to withdraw his offer of marriage.”

“She did that?” Breena pushed back. Why would her mother do all this behind her own husband’s back?

Aiden kissed her temple. “The Douglas wrote a missive withdrawing his offer of marriage and recommending your father accept mine.”

By the time my uncle arrived at your family’s keep, your father was furious, but he agreed. “I didn’t get a dowry for you, I’m afraid.” He kissed her again. “Which means you’ll have to repay me in other ways.”

“Such as?” She looked into the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. They were full of love for her and darkening quickly with passion.

“By becoming my wife, giving me many children and loving me always.”

“That, my laird, will be easy to do.”

She rose to her toes and kissed his lips. “I love you, Aiden Stuart.”

He lifted her and walked toward the bed. “And tonight, I intend to show you how much I love you, too.”

Epilogue

Moriag three months later

“Come in.” Breena put down her sewing at the sound of knocking on the sitting room door. She gasped in surprise when her mother entered. “Mother? You came.”

Her new maid, Bess, entered behind. “May I bring something to drink?”

“Yes, please.” Breena stood and went to her mother. “Come, sit, please. I didn’t know you were coming, else I would have asked Aiden to send guardsmen to escort you.”

“He did.” Her mother sat and looked at her. It surprised Breena when her mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I came at your betrothed’s request. He sent for me.”

“I am a lucky woman.”

“Aye, you are.” Her mother cupped her face. “You look so much like him.”

“My father?”

Her face softened. “Yes. He was so very handsome.”

“A good man?”

Her mother nodded. “And brave, like you.”

“The wedding is in two days,” Breena said. “Is that why you are here?”

“Yes, and because I wanted to speak to you and try to explain many things.”

It was obvious her mother was tired, but Breena knew that unless she said what bothered her, she would refuse to lie down. “I understood much when you helped me escape and managed to find a way to get me out of marrying Douglas.”

“I do care for you, Breena. I know I never expressed it. When I realized how my husband lashed out at you when I paid you attention, I learned to keep my feelings hidden. He hates how much you look like your father. Brenan was bonnie, like you.”

“I wish to have met him.”

“You would have made him proud.” Her mother studied her. “Very proud.”

“I am glad you are here for the wedding.”

“As am I.” Her mother smiled and, for the first time in a long time, Breena imagined how beautiful she’d been as a young lass. “I wish you much happiness, Breena.”

“Thank you, Mother.” They embraced and tears slid down Breena’s cheeks. Even if her mother never said she loved her, in that moment, she felt treasured.

When they separated, she looked to the door. Aiden stood there, his warm gaze on them. His lips curved and her heart was lost to him forever. Someday, when they had a son or daughter, she’d ensure the child married for love. Because the feeling that flowed between them was beyond words, one she would ensure their children experienced.

He came to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. He turned and looked at Breena’s mother. “Lady McGalen, thank you for coming.”

“I appreciate your summons.” Her mother stood. “Now, I must seek my chamber. I am very tired. I wish to rest so that tomorrow I can help with any needed preparations for the wedding.”

Bess escorted her mother away and Aiden helped Breena to her feet. “I like to see you happy.”

“I am sure my life with you will bring me much happiness.” She leaned into him and laid her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart assured her all was well.

They went to the balcony and watched the sun’s descent. Aiden lifted her face to him. “I cannot wait to be together tonight. Will you come to our bed?”

Breena laughed at his constant request. She’d moved into the adjoining chamber a week earlier. She planned to remain there until their wedding night.

He let out a long sigh. “It’s a silly custom, don’t you think?”

“A bit, yes.” Breena slid her hand down from his stomach to cover the bulge beneath his kilt. “A horrible custom.”

Aiden swallowed and inhaled sharply when her fingers wrapped around his hardness. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you here.” She lowered and watched his eyes widen with realization.

He lifted a brow. “Is this to be a new custom then?”

Instead of a reply, she ran the tip of her tongue around the tip of his cock and slid him into her mouth.

“I—I take that as a yes…”

The Laird’s Daughter

Chapter One

“I want you to be my first,” the pretty lass said, batting her eyelashes at Ian McRainey and leaning forward so he could look down her bodice. Her breasts already halfway spilling forth, just a bit of the pink circles peeked. “Come with me, just over behind the shed. It’s private there.” With amazing strength, she wrapped her arms about his waist and yanked him against her. “Ye are the most handsome man, I’ve ever seen. That you would be my first would be a dream come true.” Her breathless words set him into a panic and he searched for the right words.

How he got into the situation evaded him. On his way to the stables, he’d been deep in thought and meandered for a bit toward a nearby creek. He’d stood but a few moments watching the rippling clear water when the lass, Gertrude, if he remembered correctly, appeared. He’d noticed her plenty of times as she’d always served him when he and Laird Gordon came to visit the McNeils. He’d always been cordial when she flirted and had never led her to believe he was romantically interested as far as he knew.

The lass peered up at him. “Ian? Why do you hesitate? Is something amiss?”

“You are a beautiful lass, but I cannot accept your generous offer. I am not one to deflower a virgin, even one so sweet and tempting.” He attempted to disengage from her hold, but the girl did not budge. She blinked rapidly as if to keep from crying and he cringed. One thing he could not be indifferent to was a crying woman.

“Gertrude, release Mister McRainey and see to your duties.” A smooth voice snapped the maid’s attention from him and she quickly released him. Ian let out a breath of relief when the lass took a step back and sulked before walking away. Gertrude was gracious enough to nod her head to her lady when passing by the young mistress.

“I thank you,” Ian said, brushing at his tunic. “She was quite amorous I’m afraid.”

Elsbeth McNeil’s expression was impassive. “You must have done something to garner her attention. I do not believe a woman would be so adamant in her pursuit unless feeling sure of the outcome.”

It was probably useless to argue the fact. Although Elsbeth’s opinion of him mattered, he doubted she’d believe he’d never encouraged Gertrude’s advances. “Would you believe me if I told you I have not, in fact, done anything to give her such ideas?”

Elsbeth let out a sigh without comment. Her clear blue eyes took him in for a few moments before moving toward the creek. Dressed in a gown that matched her eyes with her hair swept up with the same color ribbons, she was a beautiful sight. Her elegant neck took his attention as she looked away, seeming to ponder her words before speaking. Finally, when she looked to him, her lips quivered with mirth. “You looked quite uncomfortable. I find it interesting as I am sure many a willing wench approach you regularly.” It was true, but Gertrude’s request was something new.

She slipped her arm through his and they walked toward the water’s edge. Ian sensed it was not coincidence she’d come to seek him.

He shook his head. “A man is allowed his secrets, but I will say the tales that I am a willing participant in many a tryst are greatly exaggerated.”

That she looked pleased at his remark lightened his chest though he pushed the feeling away. Elsbeth McNeil was out of reach for him romantically. She was the laird’s daughter and her father, although a kind and fair man, had made it abundantly clear that only a titled man could aspire for Elsbeth’s hand.

Ian couldn’t quite put his finger on it, how and when they had grown close as friends. But now, he regularly visited the McNeil keep and they spent many an hour walking and sharing everyday occurrences. Neither ever spoke of the future, for they were fully aware that one day she’d leave; marry and move to wherever her new husband lived. Meanwhile, Ian would remain in Moriag, the leader of the guard for his laird and friend, Declan Gordon.

A bird fluttered across their path and he followed its ascent to the trees. It was a pleasant day, the sunrays streamed through the clouds, threading through the branches before touching the ground. The lace sunlight patterns around them gave the area a magical feel and his companion’s beauty completed the setting, which he committed to memory. Not wanting to lose the image, he wished to be gifted with the ability of art.

“It breaks my heart to think of leaving,” Elsbeth said interrupting his musings. “I love Moriag and can barely stand the idea. Do you think I will be happy elsewhere?”

The imploration in her eyes took him aback. Strong and assured, she rarely showed this vulnerable side. She was twenty and, by society’s standards, should already be married and mothering a bairn or two. Yet she’d been fiercely against marrying until she felt ready. And surprisingly, the McNeil had conceded to his only child; at least for now.

“What brings such melancholy about?” He tipped her face up and pressed a chaste kiss to her nose. “It’s not at all like you to be in such spirits.”

When she jerked away, putting space between them, his brows shot up. Perhaps he’d pushed her too far with the kiss, past the rules of propriety. “I apologize. I should not have done that.”

“’Tis not that.” Her smile was wane. “I just find myself confused after current developments.”

His chest constricted at her words. “What happens?”

“Nothing unexpected,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “Do not look so worried. It is just that I will marry soon and go with my husband. The Seton is due here in a few days with a proposal and I have to accept it. I’ve put off marrying much too long as it is.”

A strange tightness enveloped him and he found it hard to breathe. “Of course, it is only natural that you marry and settle with a family. I understand your love of homeland and have always wondered how a lass feels at having to leave all she has known, to go live with another clan. I have not lived in Moriag long, but have grown fond of it.”

Whatever it was he’d spouted didn’t seem to please Elsbeth but, instead, put her further into a melancholy mood and she heaved a long sigh and looked away, down the path, before her gaze moved to the sky. “Knowing that one day I would leave was supposed to have prepared me for the day that it actually happens. Yet now, I understand the many times after a wedding feast when the bride becomes hysterical upon departing.”

“You will accept the Seton as your husband then?” He pictured the older laird he’d met many months ago. From what he recalled, the laird had a wife. “I thought Calum Seton was married.”

Elsbeth shook her head. “Not Calum Seton, his eldest son, Kiernan.”

“He is but a boy!” It was Ian this time that moved away, pacing before balling his hands into fists and glaring at her. “You cannot be thinking of accepting marriage to a boy who doesna know his stem from the apple.”

Her laughter rang out at his lack of subtlety. “He is the same age as I am and if he is pliable, then the better for me. I do not want a brute who will order me about.”

“Neither do you want a husband who, when faced with havin’ to defend ye, will cower and wet ’imself. Ye will probably be the one to fight off any attackers, with better swordsmanship I am willing to wager.” In his anger, his Highland burr became stronger.

His outburst only served to make her laugh harder. He growled in frustration at her lack of regard for the truth he spoke. “That yer father is actually considering it makes me wonder why.”

She stopped laughing, but her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Come, let us return to the keep. I am sure Declan searches for you as they were prepared to leave when I came out to seek you.” Elsbeth threaded her hand through his arm again and they walked back, both in silence. Just before they approached her home, she turned and smiled up at him. It was hard to decipher the emotion in her eyes. Fondness and sadness, if he had to guess. “Ian, I will miss you just as much as I will Moriag. Never have I considered having someone like you in my life, a good…friend.” She cupped his jaw as moisture filled her beautiful eyes and she blinked and moved away, the warmth of her touch on his face dissipating.

“Ah, there you are.” One of the guards approached with Ian’s steed. “We depart.” He nodded to Elsbeth. “Milady.”

“Good day to you, Tristan,” Elsbeth seemed to know every man’s name, always warm when speaking to everyone, never speaking down to a person regardless of station.

The guard flushed under her scrutiny, nodded again and shoved the reins into Ian’s hands and walked away with his.

“When you see me next, I should have news of when I depart,” Elsbeth said watching Tristan’s departing figure, “unless I see you at the town festival in a few days.”

“Ah yes, the festival. I had not given it much thought as I plan to spend a few days at my cottage hunting.” He’d not planned such a thing until just then, feeling the need to spend time alone to think. For whatever reason, his mood had darkened and he wished to steal away and consider what the future held for him. He never planned much further than the present, as he’d learned long ago most plans could easily be crushed by circumstances beyond a person’s control.

Elsbeth’s face fell. “Very well then, until soon.” Before she could move away, he pulled her against him in a fierce hug, shocking them both. Yet she did not push away. Instead, she relaxed against him and laid her head upon his chest. Ever so slowly, her arms encircled his waist and they remained there without speaking, the breeze gently caressing their faces. Finally, he took her shoulders and moved her away. “Until soon, Elsbeth.”

If anyone noticed his darkened mood upon joining the eight guards and Declan, no one mentioned it. The distance to the Moriag Keep was half a days’ ride at a leisurely pace, which normally didn’t bother Ian, but today he wanted to race back; arrive only to take his leave to the cottage in the forest where he rarely went. Only when hunting did he go there, either alone or with another guard.

“I cannot guess what brings about your dark mood, but whatever it is must be serious.” Declan did not look to him, but kept his gaze forward. “Did you and the fair Elsbeth have a disagreement?”

“No,” he replied curtly hoping to convey he didn’t wish to speak on the matter.

Unfortunately it was lost on Declan, who would argue not to be a curious man. Ian had another opinion on the matter. “I think to know the news she imparted on you. She will accept marriage to the Seton’s son and you are fiercely jealous after finally accepting you feel more than friendship for the beautiful Elsbeth McNeil.”

“You should consider becoming a traveling bard,” Ian replied dryly. “You spin everything into a romantic tale.”

Married almost two years and very much in love with his wife, Meredith, Declan had settled into his new role as husband and father quite well, much to everyone’s surprise as the man had been a ruthless womanizer and without much honor to speak of. Now he was greatly admired by his men and good laird to the townspeople entrusted to him.

Declan kept a neutral façade, but the trembling at the edges of his lips told another story. “I am only stating what neither of you will admit. You are in love, my friend. For the first time since I’ve known you, you have dedicated hours to a woman, spending every free moment seeking her out and she you in return. That neither of you admit to it is what is quite puzzling.”

Ian clamped his jaw so tightly his teeth ached. No matter what Declan said, he would not admit to feeling more than caring for Elsbeth. Yes, he was in a dark mood and, admittedly, it had to do with her upcoming marriage, but not for the reason Declan said. Elsbeth was a jewel, a woman to be treasured, cared for, and protected; none of which a twenty-year-old boy could or would do. How long would it take the lad to learn her ways? Would he even take the time to speak to her and discover her intelligence? What about her likes and dislikes? She hated the dark and indulged in long walks to clear her head and ponder through situations. Elsbeth was an accomplished archer and could wield her small sword with surprising agility. Yes, he did not like that she would marry a man not worthy of her, but mostly because she was his friend. Besides Declan, who knew him better than anyone, she was the closest he’d ever allowed himself to get to anyone.

“I hear Kiernan Seton is a braw lad now. Yet I doubt someone as young as he will be able to handle the strong-willed Elsbeth. It could prove entertaining to witness the first time he attempts to bend her to something against her wishes.” Declan’s chuckle grated at the already tender hold on Ian’s temper.

“I am going to my cottage in the morning and hunt for a few days.” He purposely left the comment without the usual invitation. Thankfully, Declan did not push the issue.

“You deserve time to relax. We have worked hard this past season.”

They’d spent weeks traveling the lands, visiting clans to not only collect rents, but for Declan to ensure all was well and there was nothing amiss. After returning, they’d gone straight to completing needed repairs to the keep stables and guards’ quarters.

Ian let out a breath of relief. Time away would serve a double purpose; relaxation and honing his hunting skills and he’d spend time doing repairs to his small home.

They returned to find the keep bustling with activity. Meredith, Declan’s wife’s brother, Aiden Stuart, emerged into the courtyard to greet them. Aiden had a smaller keep not too far, where he lived with his wife, Breena. The man had become not only Declan’s friend, but Ian’s as well. They clasped forearms and Declan welcomed his brother-in-law not asking for a purpose of his visit since the man and his wife often came. Other times, Declan and Meredith went to visit them. Often, they included Ian in their gatherings, which suited him fine. He enjoyed the company and camaraderie that came from being around family. Estranged from his, he appreciated the closeness of kinship.

Stable lads rushed away with their steeds leaving the three men to make their way inside. Aiden slapped Ian’s back and smiled broadly. “How did you find the fair Elsbeth today?”

Declan let out a chuckle. “I would not ask him such today.”

Ian couldn’t help the grunt of annoyance. “Elsbeth is doing well; she is planning to attend the festivities in town. I imagine your wife is planning to go as well.”

Thankfully, the distraction worked and the men began speaking of how to avoid much more than attending a few moments and perhaps assigning guards to keep their wives safe while they stole away to the pub in town.

As soon as the evening meal was over and he could disengage from the visitors, Ian made his way to his chamber. All through the evening, he couldn’t help but think of the emotions in Elsbeth’s eyes, as if she’d tried to convey a message to him. She’d been upset at the thought of leaving Moriag and perhaps that was what brought her to touch his face and lean into him. When he’d held her, she’d trembled. He’d half expected her to shove him away and laugh at his display of affection. Instead, she’d collapsed against him trembling.

After a discreet knock, a male servant entered. “I apologize for not starting a fire in the hearth, sir. I will do so right away.” The older man rushed to the hearth and began placing logs into it.

Ian narrowed his eyes. “Firth?”

“Aye?” the servant replied while continuing his task.

“You are married correct?” When the servant nodded, he continued. “When yer wife wishes to convey a message to you, when she wants you to understand something, but doesn’t voice it, how do know what she wishes?”

The slender man straightened and frowned in thought. “’Tis one of the hardest things, sir, to understand a woman. They rarely speak out loud what they wish and if you do not guess correctly, they are quick to anger. I tell my Mairead to tell me. I cannot read her thoughts. It does little good.”

“So ’tis best not to guess then?” Ian was relieved.

“Nay, sir. If you care, you keep guessing. ’Tis what we have to do. Sometimes we guess correctly.” The man chuckled and returned to his chore.

He’d not guessed, nor had any idea, whatever it was that bothered Elsbeth. If she didn’t wish to leave Moriag, there was precious little he could do about it. Marrying the lass would not be permitted.

Ian raked his fingers through his hair. What was he thinking? Of course marriage was not the option he would consider. His true identity would have to be revealed. Something he never wished to do.

Chapter Two

Elsbeth pulled the needle through the fabric, her fingers working nimbly on a tapestry for her new home. For the second day in a row, she’d remained indoors all day, choosing to stitch and read rather than her usual activities. The longer she considered her current situation, the darker her mood and rather than spending time with others, she chose to brood in private.

Her mother stood at the doorway to the sitting room, her brow furrowed. “Twice, you have not attended the evening meal. Are you unwell dear?”

Unable to smile, Elsbeth patted the settee. “Come sit with me, Mother. I am fine. I just have not been in the mood for all the noise of the great room.”

“You’ve been unusually somber. I assume it has to do with your upcoming betrothal.”

“I don’t know,” she replied with honesty. “I am not against it. As a matter of fact, I look forward to marriage and children. The idea of family makes me happy.”

“Yet?”

How to describe something she didn’t quite understand. A heaviness had formed in her chest since the day she’d spoken the words out loud to Ian. As if by sharing with him, a part of her became burdened.

“I’m sure it is nothing, Mother. Perhaps it is simply nerves. I shared with Ian about it. It was strange to speak of it out loud. It was as if when I spoke it, the situation became real. Leaving Moriag is not something I ever wish to do.”

Her mother studied her face. “Are you in love with the warrior? I find your friendship to be odd. It is quite unusual for a maiden and a single man to be such close friends as the two of you have become.”

Love? No, it was not possible. “I am sure what I feel for him is more caring and affection, like how one feels for a good friend or a brother; nothing more.”

Her mother studied her for a moment and became wistful. “It will reassure your father and me to know you are well provided for and protected. The Setons are a large, powerful clan. Kiernan Seton is an attractive man, is he not?”

A picture of the rugged, brawny young man formulated. He was powerfully built and handsome. From what she’d heard, he spent more time wenching than learning to use his sword. “I hope he doesn’t leave me a widow too long after we marry. From what I hear he is not adept with a sword. If so, he could be killed in the first battle.”

“I hear the same,” her mother added and Elsbeth wondered if her mother had also heard of his promiscuity. “Quite large isn’t he?”

Elsbeth smiled and shook her head. “Looks like a brute.”

“I’m sure he’s not. He is first born to the Seton of Reardon.” Her mother bit her lip. “Although I have to admit, the Setons are not known for proper behavior.”

The northern Setons claimed large chunks of land by pillaging and overthrowing lairds. Although known for their ruthlessness, the smaller two clans her father had befriended were not as much.

“They remind me of the Norse in a way,” Elsbeth mused. “I hope not to be expected to sail upon a vessel in search of villages to pillage.”

Her mother chuckled. “You do have the golden hair, a very Norse trait.”

It was refreshing to see mirth in her mother’s gaze. For too many days now, there were shadows of despair and when she thought Elsbeth didn’t notice, she drew heavy sighs. No matter how often she’d asked, her mother denied that anything was wrong. It could be her impending departure that saddened her mother. They were very close after all.

Elsbeth lifted her hand and pretended to hold a sword. “I will become a feared fighter; a Scottish lass known as The Great Castrator.”

“Oh, my!” her mother exclaimed as both fell into fits of laughter. “The things you say Elsbeth.”

A maid came to the sitting room. “Ladies, there are visitors in the great hall. The laird requests your presence.”

Arms linked, Elsbeth and her mother entered the great room. Her father, already seated at the high board, motioned them to remain in the rear of the room. Both sat in a chair brought by a maid, Elsbeth’s attention focused on the visitors.

The visitors were large men, warriors with Sinclair tartans around their muscled bodies. From what she could see, among the men who stood guard around them, they’d not bothered washing before entering.

Her father spoke loudly. “Sinclair, you and your men are welcome to stay, of course. There are guards’ quarters in the courtyard for you to rest and our well has clear water for you to wash and water your horses.” He motioned to two empty tables deliberately left open in the center of the room. “Please sit and enjoy a meal.”

A large bearded man, who she assumed was the leader, bowed his head. “The invitation is appreciated. And we accept. I come with a message from my laird, the Sinclair, cousin to Henry the second, Earl of Orkney.”

There were mumbles around the room. If these men were the Sinclair’s men, then the laird had definitely decided to send the fiercest in his employ. “We are on assignment to find a man.”

“A Scot?” her father asked leaning forward, obviously interested. He motioned for the others to sit. Everyone did, except for the man who spoke.

“Nay, not just any man, but the laird’s own son. Griogair Sinclair.”

“What makes you think I would know where this person is?” the laird asked with a puzzled expression. “All of my men are McNeils.”

The warrior looked around. “We were told my laird’s son took shelter with a laird who lives in Moriag.”

“I cannot recall any newcomers to these parts. Of course, I cannot speak for the other three lairds,” her father said with a shrug.

The warrior stood very still, his gaze moving down the side of the room until he looked at Elsbeth. His light blue eyes met hers for a moment, before taking the rest of her in.

“I believed a person with golden hair would stand out in this region. But perhaps I am wrong.”

Her father’s keen gaze met hers and Elsbeth’s breath caught. It couldn’t be. Ian was a guard, not a laird’s son. And he’d been with Declan for a very long time; at least, that’s what she’d been led to believe.

When her mother squeezed her hand, it was obvious she thought the same thing. It could only be Ian that they searched for. The Sinclair’s of the northern region were fair, being mostly of Norse ancestry. It struck her as strange that only moments earlier, she and her mother had discussed the topic. Could it be that Ian was not who everyone thought him to be? If he were a Sinclair, they were the strongest, most powerful clan in Scotland. If anything, he should be proud to remain with them. Why would the son of one of the most commanding lairds flee and hide working as a lowly guard?

No, it was impossible. Yet it struck her that Ian McRainey was the only golden-haired man in Moriag and with an unfamiliar last name. That she knew of, there were no McRainey Clans in the surrounding lands.

Later that evening, Elsbeth went to find her father. He was alone in his chambers. Not hearing her, he leaned back in a chair, his eyes closed and hands pressing against his midsection. He let out a low groan and shifted with what looked to be discomfort.

“Da? Are you ill?” Elsbeth entered and went directly to him. Her hands on his face, she kissed his brow. “Should I call for a healer?”

“Nay.” He smiled at her. “I fear something in the evening’s meal did not sit well.”

“It could be the visitors. They are quite a harsh bunch.”

“Hired swordsmen, if I were to guess. Loyal to whoever holds the purse strings. Yes, they are probably clansmen, but not part of the laird’s guard by the looks of them.” He straightened his shoulders. “Yet, they were sent by the Sinclair, so we could not turn them away.”

“Did the leader impart any other information?”

“You want to know if I suspect Ian McRainey is the man they seek.” His keen eyes roamed her face. “I am not sure if Ian is who they seek. I do recall Declan Gordon telling me they’ve known each other for many years and I’ve always sensed Ian McRainey has a secret, so anything is possible. Yet, if the Sinclair’s son is smart, he’s probably gone farther than the Highlands.”

’Twas interesting that her da knew so much about Ian. “Yes, that was what I planned to ask. Did you not find it of interest how he studied me? As if he thought never to find a golden-haired Scot.”

“Aye. The man is a brute.”

“Why would the Sinclair seek out his son after many years?”

Her father’s eyes softened when meeting hers. “Mayhap to redeem himself. The Sinclair’s cruelty is well known. I do not know what he did to cause his son to flee, but I am sure the young Sinclair had just cause. It could be the Sinclair is not well.” The McNeil’s lips curved and he reached for her hand, taking it between both of his.

“What about the Seton’s son? They come to seek an audience. I am sure it will be to ask for your hand for the young Kiernan.” His countenance became harder. “Ye will accept.”

Her mother entered, her gaze going from Elsbeth to the laird. “Is something amiss?”

It was endearing to see her father’s face soften when he took in his wife. “No, dear. We are speaking of our visitors.”

The immediate relaxing of her mother’s shoulders made Elsbeth wonder what she’d thought they spoke of. “I see. ’Tis quite worrisome to have them about. I hope they don’t cause any trouble.”

Glad for the interruption, not quite ready to commit to her father that she’d accept Kiernan Seton’s offer, she slipped her hand out of his and stood. She kissed her father’s brow and moved to the doorway. “With the strangers about, I will not go for my nightly walk, but seek my bed instead.” Her parents remained silent as she left. Once again the feeling something was amiss assailed.

As she walked through the great room, she changed her mind and went to the door leading to the courtyard. She stepped outside and, remaining close to the walls, walked toward the garden. Just as she was about to turn the corner, hushed voices made her stop.

“We are close. We’ll find him in a day or two. Our presence will either make him attempt to flee or hide until we leave,” one of the men said.

“Did ye notice the lass’ expression? She knows him.” It was the voice of the one who’d spoken to her father. “We follow her, we find him.”

“I am needin’ coin. Only by bringing back Griogair Sinclair’s body will his brother pay.”

Elsbeth stepped back and scampered back to the doorway. As she reached it, the men emerged from the side of the building. She pretended to have just stepped out and looked to them.

Instantly, one of her father’s guards came to her. “’Tis not safe for ye to be about tonight milady.” He looked to the visitors to make a point. “Perhaps ’tis best ye do not walk tonight.”

“Very well,” Elsbeth replied, glad for a reason to go back inside. “Have a good night, Murrow.”

“Goodnight, milady,” the guard replied, his face hard as he kept an eye on the messengers.

Her heart hammered in her chest. If Ian was, in fact, the Sinclair’s son, he was in danger. Somehow she had to get word to him. If in the morning she left with guards to Declan Gordon’s keep, the men would instantly be alerted and follow. Somehow, she had to sneak away tonight. But how?

In her chamber, she paced, scrambling for an answer. Finally in the very late hours of the night, she came upon an idea. Not the best, but it could work.

Dew from the night before glistened on the fresh, new leaves of spring as a young lad carried logs into the keep and then returned outside and made his way to the stable. His limp was noticeable enough for a bystander to realize the reason for his small size and menial work. With a cap pulled down on his head, the lad hunched his shoulders against the cool air and shuffled to the gate with a horse and an empty cart. No doubt on errands to town to collect whatever supplies the keep’s cook listed for him to retrieve. Just as he rode off, the messengers entered the great room to seek breaking their fast before leaving to find the Sinclair’s son at the surrounding keeps. Anticipating a delicious, hot meal, they barely paid any heed to the young man who looked over his shoulder at them before urging the horse to a faster pace.

Heart thumping, Elsbeth hoped her mother would not be too angry upon finding her note. She’d left a message stating she’d gone for a ride to Gordon Keep. Without guards…yes, perhaps her mother would be quite cross, but she’d done it before, and it would not be something that would overly worry her parents.

Upon reaching the village, she unhitched the wagon and continued from there on horseback.

It was imperative she find Ian. Not just to warn him, but also to demand answers to why he kept his identity a secret. If, by some chance, he was not Griogair Sinclair, then she’d return home with a lightened heart.

Then again, was this the true reason for seeking out Ian? Was there a more pressing matter they had to discuss?

Her stomach tumbled at the idea. If Ian asked her not to marry the Seton’s son, would she do as he bid? He could not offer more than friendship. She knew he would not go against her father’s wishes. Too proud to ask for her hand with nothing to offer, as he was but a humble guard.

Elsbeth leaned lower to the horse as it raced towards the Gordon’s lands. A smile curved her lips at a realization.

She was in love with Ian McRainey and it was time he knew it. There was little to lose. If he did not return the sentiment, she’d marry Kiernan Seton. However, if Ian cared for her, she’d fight to remain in Moriag.

God help them if he was, indeed, Griogair Sinclair. There was a price on his handsome head it seemed.

Chapter Three

The wind blew through the trees with an announcement of upcoming rainfall and Ian was glad to almost be to the cottage. From atop his steed, through the branches, he caught sight of a slight young lad pulling a horse behind the cottage before dashing inside, looking around as if expecting someone followed.

Ian let out a breath of annoyance. Once he got there and sent the lad on his way, he could relax and take the needed time alone. Unable to keep from thinking about Elsbeth, he’d gone hunting. Now, a good tongue lashing to this lad for stealing away in his cottage would be a good distraction. He had to stop thinking of her, tear any feelings for her from his chest. They were nothing more than friends, after all, so her announcing an upcoming betrothal affecting him so much made little sense.

Unfortunately, he kept rehashing their last conversation and second-guessing what her expression meant. By the way she’d told him about the Seton’s visit, he didn’t sense anything more than acceptance on her part. Her only worry seemed to be in leaving Moriag. Yet, there had been something beseeching him to do something. What she’d expected from him neither clear nor spoken.

There was only one way to finish this. Ian looked up at the sky. It was no use to attempt to ride to the McNeil keep at the moment. He’d wait until morning and go to see Elsbeth. Once they could talk, he’d ask her to be direct with him. It struck him as odd since his friend had never been the type of woman to mince words. Elsbeth was straight to the point, often too outspoken for a woman. It was one of the reasons he liked her so.

Trotting behind the cottage, he dismounted and guided his horse to the stable behind it. Once removing the saddle and ensuring the animal had plenty of food, he looked the other horse over.

The mare was familiar.

Elsbeth’s mount.

He rushed into the cottage just as the lad finished placing a log into the fire. When the lad turned to him, he cursed under his breath. “Elsbeth, whatever are you doing here?” Dressed like a lad, she looked quite different with her hair pulled up and shoved under a cap. Though even in breeches and a serviceable tunic, she still managed to look every bit the beautiful lass.

She directed a glare at him and lifted an eyebrow as if he’d done something unpleasant. “I am here because there are people out to cut your fool head off your shoulders.”

Somehow, he managed to keep from laughing. Her expression warned if he took her words lightly she’d possibly be the one to remove his head. She pinned him with narrowed eyes. “I believe you have lied to me about who you really are.”

Ian managed, with much effort, to keep the effect of her words under control, outwardly at least. His stomach sunk and his heart thudded erratically, banging against his breastbone. “I have no idea what you are spouting on about.”

The slap made his ears ring.

Elsbeth could not keep from striking him. The one thing she hated more than thieves were liars. After all the time she’d spent with Ian, she knew the exact giveaways of when he was not truthful. Many a times, she’d watched as he made exaggerated claims after a hunt, only to later admit to her that he’d lied. Now as the redness bloomed on the left side of his face, he was vividly aware of it.

A veil fell and his eyes turned eerily blank. The usually light blue of his eyes turned into a chilly silver. “If you would explain upon what you are basing this presumption and, perhaps, also explain about my possible beheading, then perhaps we can have a proper conversation milady.” The title instantly placed distance between them. She recognized the ploy and pushed past it, moving closer to him and bending at the waist until she was almost nose-to-nose with him.

“Who are you really? And do not insult me by lying.”

Instead of a reply, he cocked his head to the side and shrugged. “What brings these questions Elsbeth? Who is threatening my person?”

She’d let the lack of reply go for now. “Messengers came seeking the whereabouts of a man. They claimed to be sent by Laird SInclair in search of his son, Griogair.” Nothing in his countenance changed, but he was too late. When she’d first asked who he was, Elsbeth had seen the panic in his eyes just before he’d situated a neutral expression upon his face.

“And somehow this relates to my neck being sliced?”

Elsbeth had to fight not to strike him again. She ground her back teeth. “They described the Sinclair’s son and, remarkably, he sounds much like you. Fair hair, light blue eyes….”

“Or you, except that you are female,” he replied, each word dripping with ice. “I fail to see why any of this prompted you to dress like a lad and rush to find me. Unless, of course, you were in dire need of slapping a man across the face.”

“Ian!” Elsbeth exclaimed and grabbed his arms. “I am not in the mood to play a game with ye. I came because I overheard them talking last night. They are not sent by the laird, but by one of his sons. They are being paid to kill Griogair, the laird’s eldest son and heir.”

“If the Sinclair’s son does not wish to be found, what makes them think he’d seek to take his father’s place?”

Her foot tapping was the only sound for a few beats. “Mayhaps, he is biding his time for such a thing. Once the Sinclair dies, he will reappear and take his place.” She watched for any sign of what he thought, but the damn man’s demeanor remained without expression.

Her shoulders drooped at concluding he’d not talk about it. Obviously, Ian, or Griogair if she guessed correctly, would not admit anything to her. She turned away and moved closer to the fire. “I dressed as such to avoid being followed.” The sound of raindrops on the roof angered her more at realizing she’d have to wait it out to leave. Ian was not the man she’d fancied herself in love with just minutes earlier. Who he really was and why he chose not to be honest was not necessarily her business. What bothered her most was thinking they were friends. The entire time, she’d been friends with a man who pretended to be Ian McRainey.

“I am your friend.” His voice was soft behind her. Elsbeth didn’t turn for fear her feelings for him would be evident. He let out a breath. “Never think that I do not appreciate you. Things can be complicated at times.”

“I am very aware of complications,” she said not expanding on those dire words. “You have not denied being Griogair Sinclair.” She turned to find he’d moved closer, his gaze scanning her face.

Once again, he deflected the subject. “Yesterday when we spoke, there was something left unsaid. In your eyes, I saw expectation. Although you did not speak it, in them, I saw a question. What was that question?”

Had she been so transparent? Even before admitting how deep her feelings ran for him, a part of her had reached out to him. It was only Ian who could keep her from leaving Moriag. Yet, both knew her father would never agree to a marriage between her and a common guard. If he were, indeed, the son of the most powerful laird in the Highlands, would things be different?

The Sinclairs were not allies to the McNeils, quite the opposite.

Tears burned at her eyes and she lowered her gaze. He’d betrayed her, pure and simple. How could she share such deep feelings with a man who’d lied the entire duration of their friendship? Elsbeth took a step back and looked away. “It seems we’ve come to an impasse.” The rain fell harder yet she had to leave, get away from him. The cottage had shrunk considerably around her since she’d entered.

“The Sinclair took my wife.” Ian’s voice was deadly calm. “She went to his bed willingly. At least, that is what she said to me. Laird Sinclair did not deny it when I confronted him. Quite the opposite, he gloated when telling me she sought him out.”

Although he kept a neutral expression, his body told another story. Hands fisted to his sides, it was obvious the hatred he felt for the man had not lessened. “I attempted to take her with me when I left, but she refused. The foolish woman hoped to become his wife, had convinced herself he would leave my mother for her.”

“So you left, never to return? What about your mother?” Elsbeth asked, closing the distance between them. Instinctively knowing not to touch him at the moment, she stood near enough that he could reach out to her if need be.

“I was angry and too young to think of more than myself. I did return to see my mother once. She was well. My wife and father remained lovers. My mother accepts it and refused to leave with me.”

She didn’t have to ask, but did. “If your brother seeks to have you killed, that means your da could be dying, or dead. He must fear you will take lairdship. Will you?”

Ever so slowly, his gaze met hers. The bottomless sadness in them broke her heart. “Aye, I will return if, indeed, the laird has died. But I will not accept lairdship. The Sinclairs wouldna allow it, not after I left for so long. Although they couldna stop me from what is my right, but I wouldn’t live long after.”

The more he spoke, the deeper his Highland accent became. It was as if by allowing her to know him, he’d lowered another shield of protection.

“What of your wife?”

“No longer, I doona know why I call her that.” He shrugged. “She divorced me after I left, which the laird urged the clergy to do without me present. Not that I cared at that point.”

He cupped her jaw, his hand gentle. “Thank you for coming to warn me. I will go to the Sinclair keep and ensure my eldest brother knows I doona seek the lairdship. He can have it. Liam is his father’s son.”

Elsbeth didn’t question his last statement, so intent on the warmth of his touch, not wanting him to ever stop touching her. She covered his hand with hers and leaned her face into it. “Ian…Griogair…”

“I am Ian McRainey. The other part of me is long dead.” The tightening of his face emphasized his words.

“You cannot go alone. The men will catch up to you.”

“I must. ’Tis easier to hide one horse than twenty.” His smile made her chest constrict in fear.

The rising and lowering of his chest took her attention. He was tall, much taller than she with wide shoulders on which he often draped the Gordon tartan. With a muscular build telling of years of honing his battle skills and long, blond hair, he looked more a Viking than a Highlander. He was a handsome man, but more than that, with sky blue eyes and full lips, his features made for the man she’d dreamed of marrying since a young girl.

“Your silence means you are pondering something very deep,” he said with a smile. Yes, he knew her well. Their close friendship of sharing many things meant he could decipher her musings, hopefully not what she considered now.

A slow heat rose to her cheeks and she turned away. “I should return. I cannot remain here. My da would have your head on a spit.” She attempted a smile. “Although a handsome head it will be.”

He looked past her to the tiny window. “It rains too hard. Wait until it lessens and I will escort you to Declan’s keep. You can remain there overnight.”

Without prompting, her eyes went to the bed behind him. The cottage was furnished simply but each piece was well made. It was obvious it belonged to someone with coin, by the heavy bedding and polished goblets on the table. “Do you keep food in this place?” She attempted to sweep past him toward the small space reserved for food preparation.

He took her arm and brought her closer to him. “You have not answered my earlier question.”

It was hard to swallow past the lump that formed in her throat. She’d been so angry with him for lying and now she was faced with the same dilemma. Nothing would be harmed if she told him the truth, other than her own heart breaking when Ian told her he didn’t feel the same, which she supposed would not surprise her.

After a long exhalation, she relaxed into his hold, but he did not release her. Instead, his hand slid up and down her upper arm urging her to speak. The touch made her body come to life at thinking how she’d enjoy him touching more than just her arm. It meant nothing. A friend would do that, she chided herself.

“I admitted to you that I do not wish to ever leave Moriag. I did want something from you when I said it…your help to stay.”

“There is little I can do, Elsbeth.” The darkening of his eyes perplexed her, but she could not stop now. They’d never have this opportunity again. He would venture north and she would remain, to be present when the Seton came in a few days.

“Ian, you can help me remain. Marry me. I love you. I wish to be with you always.” Elsbeth held her breath, yet at the same time, a burden lifted off of her shoulders. The truth made her light and almost giddy. Yes, his reply would change everything, but for a few moments she allowed the freedom of truth to fill her.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open at her declaration. For a long moment, they remained still as his gaze scanned her face as if expecting her to retract her words. She almost did, suddenly feeling like a fool.

But she remained strong, lifting her chin defiantly. “And there is nothing you can do about how I feel.”

She lost her breath when he yanked her against him, his strong arms circling her in a tight embrace. He nuzzled her hair in silence.

The silence was as good as any words he didn’t speak.

Ian did not feel the same.

Chapter Four

The darkness that loomed after learning his brother sought to have him killed became even darker by Elsbeth’s admission. Even so, his heart sang at her words confirming what he dreaded. For the second time in his life, he was in love, though not like his first wife. This was so different. What he felt for Elsbeth was so much fuller, he could not let her go and let her witness what was surely etched on every inch of his face.

While happiness at her words sent his heart on the brink of bursting with joy, every emotion slammed into the same obstacle with stark precision. Her father would never agree to a union with an untitled man. A man with nothing more to offer than his sword.

He had to go north. If he didn’t face his brother, the bastard would not cease in his attempt to have him killed. Power hungry and just as cruel as their father, the younger Sinclair would ensure the powerful clan remained as such. Liam was the perfect person to take his father’s place in more ways than not. He let out a breath, not releasing Elsbeth.

Her soft curves brought out so many reactions in his body that he lost count. He was hard and breathless, while at the same time his insides softened. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman. To feel the full mounds of flesh in his hands would make any other woman disappear from memory. She was beautiful, intelligent and caring; dangerously enticing, with a touch of innocence. He doubted she’d ever lain with a man. It had been impossible not to picture her bereft of clothing in all the months they’d been friends, for her body was perfectly formed. Breathtakingly delicate yet so strong willed; her personality veiled the delicacy quite well.

When she’d been heartbroken at his betrayal, he was incapable of not telling her the truth. How could he now not be forthright? He’d not lie. At the same time, he could not tell her the fullness of how he felt for her, for he had yet to come to grips with it himself.

Instead, he lifted her face to him and covered her mouth with his. Perhaps his words could be better conveyed with a kiss.

If she was shocked by his lips covering hers, she did not act like it. Elsbeth responded by gripping his shoulders, her mouth accepting and enthusiastic in returning the kiss with as much passion as he felt. It was a colossal mistake, for he’d never be able to stop. God, let her pull away because if she didn’t, he’d be a lost man.

Her arms encircled his neck and her fingers threaded through his hair. Elsbeth pulled him closer, crushing her delicate body against his; the contrast immediately sent his blood surging. It was almost as if it were he who was the inexperienced one, kissed for the first time so sweetly that his entire being threatened to become undone.

She trailed kisses from his mouth to his jawline, soft moans escaping, which only served to make him hold her tighter. “I want you, Ian. If I am to be married to the young Seton, let it be you that shows me what it can be like.”

Ian squeezed his eyes shut. Of the two, he had to be the stronger, the one to push away and think sensibly. Her sweet mouth closed over his again and there was nothing else. His purpose in life became to protect her, to keep her, to take her. Elsbeth was his and he’d kill before ever allowing another man to take what was his.

“Never,” he growled lifting her into his arms. “No other man will ever touch you. You are mine.”

Elsbeth was shaken by the ferocity of his words. Her entire body tingled with expectation. Ian’s face was like stone, determination masking the usually warm expression when with her. He stalked to the small bed, every inch the silent warrior. He placed her beside the bed. “Undress, Elsbeth.” Although his words were spoken in a soft tone, there was nothing soft about the command. “If you are to change your mind, do it now. And even then, I cannot swear you will leave here without me taking you.”

The change in him sent tingles of desire through her. Every part of her body reacted with excitement, her sex constricted. Of course, he would know she would never desire a soft man, someone who asked for permission or would treat her like a scared virgin. She was a virgin, but far from inexperienced.

Her hands trembled as she untied the breeches from her waist and allowed them to fall to the floor. Next she fingered the hem of her tunic, her eyes on him the entire time. “What about you? I expect the same. I want to see you.”

Ian’s eyes widened for an instant and he visibly swallowed. His lips curved. “All in due time. Now, the tunic.”

It was not the time for hesitation; she lifted the garment over her head and discarded it. Standing before him fully bare made her feel powerful. By his rapid breathing and flared nostrils, he could barely restrain himself from coming to her. His gaze swept over her and the man trembled with desire.

Her lips curved and she let out a breath. Ian may not admit it to her, but he was in love with her. There was no other explanation for when their gazes clashed, his eyes were filled with so much care and desire she almost wept. “Come to me, Ian. I need you.”

In two steps, he crushed against her, his strong arms encircling her. Once again, their mouths came together in a kiss filled with desperation and expectation. His tongue delved past her lips and she relaxed against him, tasting what he offered.

He was gentle yet firm sliding his calloused hands up her body then back down to cup her bottom. Kissing a trail to her ear, she shivered when he breathed. “I want you so much it hurts. How can it be that I cannot bear not having you?”

With jerky movements, he pushed away and began yanking the clothes from his body. His boots thudded as he kicked them off and he bent to remove his trews. She could not move, her eyes devouring every inch that he revealed.

Magnificent was the only word she could use to describe him. He was solidly built, yet not overly large. Every part of him was perfectly toned, perfect for the physical demands of guarding a laird. He was built for battle, for speed and for bedding. If there was a woman who could ever resist such a sight, Elsbeth could not imagine it. Her mouth watered at the scandalous thoughts of tasting him, of different parts of him in her mouth. Elsbeth let out a sigh, unable to tear her gaze away as he closed the distance between them and let out a moan of relief when his body touched against hers.

She ran her hands up his broad back, enjoying the surprising feel of his soft skin over the hardness of his muscles. Upon reaching the tips of his hair, she raked her fingers through and looked up at him.

He studied her face, her expression for a moment, his expression unreadable. “That you chose me is an honor, Elsbeth. I am humbled right now. I want you so much, my heart aches.” His face softened. “I am fully and totally yours. My heart, body, and soul.”

Her mouth fell open at his honest declaration and her heart tightened in her chest. She blinked away the tears his words brought. “Truly, I never expected so much. I cannot reply with more than to say you are the only man for me.”

Ever so gently, he pressed his mouth against hers, the gesture almost reverent. The kiss was gentle yet it conveyed every emotion. The hardness of his body was a stark reminder that the man was anything but gentle, he’d only softened at that moment for her. To convey how, in spite of his nature, he would never use force when it came to her.

Elsbeth growled in frustration at him not doing more and she pushed up against his mouth, her hands gripping his head. “Harder, warrior.”

With a soft chuckle, he complied and immediately transformed the kiss to passionate and unyielding. He lifted her and laid her upon the bed, and lay over her. His heaviness felt perfect, a blanket of wonderful protection. His mouth moved to her breast taking the taut tip in. At the first suckle she gasped, her sex tightening.

His tongue played over each nipple while his hands slid down to her hips and lifted them to grind his hardness against her wet center. She wanted him inside her so much it was almost painful.

“Take me!” she demanded, digging her fingernails into his buttocks. “I am so wanting.” Her voice was husky and breathless.

“Not yet, love.” He trailed his tongue between her breasts and down her stomach as she became lost in the sensations assaulting her body. Without prompting, her legs parted just as he moved between them. When he licked between her folds and flicked at the already throbbing nub, she lost control. She cried out as her body split in to fragments, sending her floating. “Ah!” she was unable to keep from exclaiming. “Is there more?”

He blew against her sex, his breath sending tingles anew and chuckled. “Yes, love, there is more. But you have never joined with a man. I have to ensure you are prepared. I want this to be enjoyable for you.”

Once again, his mouth took her and she dug her fingers into his hair. She became lost so much so that when he took her mouth, she’d not realized he moved over her. He nudged at her entrance with the tip of his hardness and she let out a breath. Finally.

It was an odd sensation. It seemed like he was much too large to fit, yet he did. With slow precise motions, he entered her. She lifted her legs to wrap around his waist and held her breath.

“Elsbeth, look at me.” The command was quiet and strong. She opened her eyes, meeting his darkened gaze. He remained still, the shaking of his arms the only evidence of his restraint from fully joining with her. “Relax, let out your breath and open your mouth. Take me into your mouth.”

He leaned close and pushed his tongue into her mouth. She began to suckle it, loving the way he tasted. He pulled her tongue into his mouth, kissing her so thoroughly she gasped in surprised when he pushed into her body, his length piercing her maidenhead.

Remaining perfectly still, he continued kissing her, his hands caressing her sides, moving up to her breasts. He filled her completely and soon the pain dissipated, overtaken by another sensation. A need for him to move. She pushed his face up from hers and looked into her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be moving or something? I want you to move.”

“I should have known you’d be a feisty and demanding one.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Aye, I should be movin’.” He began to slide out and she let out a startled gasp at the sensations. When he pushed back in, both let out a moan.

Ian filled her completely before pulling out and then driving back deep. Soon she followed his motions lifting her hips higher, their movements steady until he began to lose control. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but instinctively knew he was close to finishing by his harsh breaths and the intensity of his thrusts.

Unable to fight against the waves of ecstasy, she gave in to the wonderful sensations as her entire body splintered and Elsbeth thrashed until crying out.

Ian’s hands dug into her hips as he plunged a few more times before jerking out and spilling onto the bedding, his large body shaking. Finally, he collapsed over her, his mouth next to her ear. “I love you, Elsbeth.”

Soon after, with his arms around her, his breathing became even as he fell into a slumber. Her head on his chest, Elsbeth listened to the rain outside. It had not relented. She hoped her mother assumed she’d stayed at the Gordon Keep. She would make Ian promise to remain in the cottage, safe, until she procured help. Surely Declan would see to Ian’s safety from the men who came to kill him. She’d go to her father and tell him she was marrying Ian. Yes, he would balk, but he knew her well enough to understand she’d never agree to marry the Seton’s son.

Mind made up, she felt better and snuggled closer to Ian.

Chapter Five

“Have you lost your mind?” Declan strode past Ian once again to where he kept the whiskey, but he did not pour a glass. Instead, he let out a loud breath and turned to stare at him. “You cannot return to Sinclair lands. They will kill you.”

“Just as they will kill any messenger we send.”

“Not Struan.”

After escorting Elsbeth to her lands making her promise to wait until he came to speak to her da, he’d raced to his own home to speak with Declan. He didn’t trust Elsbeth to remain quiet, but there was little he could do with the hired swords searching for him.

“Struan? Why him?” He pictured the young, red-haired guard. “He is hardly battle ready.”

“Struan is related to the Sinclairs. His sister married a Sinclair.”

“I doubt they will stop and ask him for references before taking him prisoner,” Ian replied dryly. “However, it may work.”

“He will be fine. We can send a message letting your brother know you will not seek lairdship.”

Declan, his friend of over ten years, was the only person who knew his true identity. Now Elsbeth knew and her father, no doubt, suspected it as well. “There is something else.”

The laird let out a breath and this time he did pour whiskey into two glasses. He handed Ian one. “Should we sit?”

Ian eyed the chairs. “No, drink.”

Declan studied him for a few moments before drinking his whiskey. “Get on with it then.” His friend’s eyes narrowed. “Are you leaving?”

“No.” Ian softened at his friend’s apparent relief. “But I need to know if you will deed the cottage and surrounding lands to me. I plan to marry and will need something to call my own.”

Declan was silent, his gaze never leaving Ian. “The land is yours, I’ve already told you. If you do, indeed, marry, I will add the land that runs along the loch.” He let out a breath. “Who?”

“Elsbeth McNeil. We were together last night.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Declan repeated and slammed his glass on the table so hard, it was a miracle it didn’t shatter. “The McNeil will have your head on a spike. He will not allow his daughter to marry you.”

“Since you’ve asked twice, I suppose I have lost my mind,” Ian replied in a much lower tone. “I love her.”

In love himself, Declan softened. “I know.”

Ian was surprised to hear the words, but not that his friend had realized it before he had. “What can I do? I refuse to live without her. I know the land is not much to offer, but ’tis better than nothing.”

“You have much to offer, Ian. You could be laird of the most powerful clan in the Highlands. As laird, you would also be the wealthiest amongst your peers. Although I do not wish you to go, perhaps accepting lairdship would not only assure your marriage to Elsbeth, but you could bring the clan around to less violence.”

He pictured keep Sinclair, the immense structure atop a hill reigning over every valley surrounding it. The imposing home just as intimidating as every laird who’d ruled over the clan. As a child, he’d dreamed of sitting in his father’s place. Often the laird would repeat how he’d one day rule over the clan with an iron fist.

“I have been gone too long. Besides, my brother will ensure my arse barely warms the seat before my head rolls down the center of the great room.”

“True,” Declan replied and sunk into a chair. “Fine. I will go with you to speak to the McNeil. Guard!” When a guard appeared in the doorway, Declan nodded in acknowledgement. “Have Struan come to me and prepare two horses for Ian and myself. Six guards will accompany us to the McNeil keep in an hour.”

Declan seemed to have a lot on his mind as they rode to the McNeil keep.

“What bothers you?” Ian asked.

Declan looked over his shoulder to make sure no one rode close enough to overhear. “The McNeil is quite ill.”

“How bad?”

“Not expected to see winter.”

“Does Elsbeth know?”

“They are keeping it from her, which is why he’s been searching for a bridegroom for Elsbeth.”

“Ah.” His gut clenched and chest constricted. How would the McNeil react to his request for his daughter’s hand?

Malcolm, an archer, came alongside them and motioned with his head. “We are being watched.”

Shadows of horsemen formed behind the dense trees. Whoever they were had not planned their strategy well. Ian’s party of eight knew the land and had a clearer path. Declan narrowed his eyes. “Did you make out a plaid?”

“Aye, Sinclair,” Malcolm replied and grunted. “Not sure what they’ll do, far from their own lands.”

Ian looked behind to notice the six guardsmen had gone silent and scanned the woods for signs of more men. “Just ahead, when we reach the clearing, we’ll be exposed. We should divert and travel west a bit.”

“Nay,” Declan said. “I don’t want to lead them closer to the village.”

Ian let out a breath. “We don’t know how many there are. Elsbeth said only six came to the keep.” Although they were battle-hardened men, if the men who followed were large in number, going to the clearing was a mistake. “Then let’s turn east.”

“Very well.” Declan nodded and they urged their mounts to a faster trot east into the forest.

An hour later, they’d diverted twice and still the Sinclairs followed gaining ground. Ian’s party ascertained they numbered at about ten and five. Thankfully, just ahead they’d enter the McNeil’s land and the scout would have rounded up enough guards to fend off the encroachers.

All of a sudden, with a battle cry, the men broke out of the trees toward them.

Ian and his men turned their steeds to face them, swords held up at the ready. “Leave!” he screamed to Declan. It was his job to protect the laird and from the looks of it, if their guardsmen did not arrive in time, he would not be able to.

Metal clanged against metal as the enemy reached them. They’d formed a semi-circle and, much to Ian’s chagrin, Declan remained, fighting alongside them. The first man to fall was a Sinclair. Any relief at the sight was a short-lived when a Gordon fighter fell next.

“There’s too many of them,” Malcolm told Ian. “Move away and take the laird with you.”

“Nay!” Declan swept across a man’s midsection with his sword, the hapless male fell to the ground, his arms around his spilling guts.

Ian could not afford to argue or break his concentration. He fought against two men at once.

“Stop!” a voice boomed from the darkness of the trees seconds before a lone horseman appeared. Ian took the opportunity to spear the man to his left.

The Sinclair warriors stopped fighting, now surrounding the Gordons. The barrier of horses and warriors made it hard to move.

Declan looked to Ian. His other five men lined up three in front and two behind. “What is this?”

“I think he wants to have tea with us,” Ian replied while searching for his fallen comrade. Although injured badly, the man was still alive. The guard moved just enough for Ian to notice.

“Declan Gordon?” The man who approached spoke with a heavy Highland accent proving, along with the long, dark blond hair and beard, that he was all Highland warrior. “I come for Griogair Sinclair. Laird Sinclair requests his son return to take lairdship of our clan.” There was coldness in the man’s gaze as it swept over Ian. “Ye are Griogair Campbell. I recognize ye.”

Declan held his sword at a ready. “What nonsense do you spew stranger? The McNeil’s guards will arrive shortly. I suggest you and your men leave now.”

The man did not look to be worried at Declan’s threat. He scanned the men’s faces, his gaze resting on Ian for a beat before moving past. “My orders are to return with the Sinclairs son. I will not return empty-handed.”

“I know nothing of that person,” Declan replied. “Ask your men to allow us to gather our injured man and pass.”

Ian held up a hand. He inched closer. “Return to my brother, Liam, and tell him I will never return and will never seek lairdship. I do not want it. If he does not pay you for your trouble, I will. I renounce the name Sinclair. I am Ian McRainey and forever will be named as such.” Declan’s guards all looked to him, some with mistrust, but most with curiosity.

Although there was doubt in the attacking leader’s eyes, he nodded. “Very well. It will be noted that you renounce the name Sinclair and henceforth will be considered enemy and traitor to the clan.” He spat on the ground and his men did the same.

He then met Ian’s gaze for a long moment. “We will not return.” He motioned to his men, who moved away and waited for Malcolm and another guard to lift the injured man to a horse. Two by two, Ian instructed the men to retreat, leaving him and Malcolm last.

Every once in a while, he looked over his shoulder to the Sinclairs who remained lined up watching him. The red and green colors proudly displayed over their shoulders now in silent reproach. He was a man without a clan, without a tartan to call his own.

They rode in silence until almost to the McNeil keep. Declan came alongside Ian and lifted a brow. “For a man who is about to declare his undying love, you look as if you are facing the gallows instead.”

“I have nothing much to offer someone like her.” He battled to keep from turning his horse and galloping away. “Why should the McNeil accept me? A man without a clan, no title.”

“You are a Gordon now,” Declan said, throwing him a tartan he must have procured from another man. “Wear our colors with pride, my friend. You have much to offer. Your honor is worth more than a title.”

A lump formed in his throat as he draped the white and blue fabric over his shoulder. He let out a sigh, not sure if it was relief or exhaustion. There was much to face still. Yet, for Elsbeth, he’d face a fire-breathing dragon. For her, he’d release a last dying breath without regret.

Chapter Six

Elsbeth stood before her father, her chin lifted in defiance and her gaze pinned to his. She’d not back down on this. As much as she hated conflict with either of her parents, she stood her ground. “I will not marry Kiernan Seton, Da. I am in love and prepared to leave if you do not accept Ian McRainey as my husband. Please do not force me to make that choice.”

Her mother rushed in, wide eyes going first to her father then to her. “What happens?”

The McNeil lifted an eyebrow; finally pulling his gaze from Elsbeth’s to look at his wife. “It seems Elsbeth considers herself in love. The man in question is not here to face me. In his stead, my daughter defies me alone.”

“He had to go renounce his lairdship of Clan Sinclair, as there seems to be a price on his head.” She prayed he arrived safely and returned unharmed. The thought that he could perish terrorized her.

“Ah,” her father’s short reply did nothing to tell what, exactly, he thought. The Setons visit was to be within days. Her father had to send a messenger to keep them from wasting their time. “I am perplexed, Elsbeth. Ian McRainey was just here days ago. Why did he not speak to me then? If he is a man of honor and sought your hand…”

“Things er… progressed. We only yesterday realized how deep our feelings ran.” Her face burned as she recalled exactly how far things had, indeed, progressed. She prayed her parents did not suspect.

Her mother went to her father and placed a hand on his shoulder, a sure sign of solidarity with him. If ever there was a time she felt alone, this was it.

“Sire, the Gordon and his second are here to speak to ye,” a guard announced from the doorway.

“Is that so?” Her father looked to his wife, a silent communication between them. “Show them in.”

Why was Ian here? He was supposed to go north. Her heart tumbled in her chest. If they came about another matter altogether, the situation was about to become worse.

Due to his station, Declan Gordon entered the room first. He greeted her parents before his green eyes met hers. There was warmth in them that settled her. Ian crossed the doorway behind him. Just as tall and commanding as the laird, Ian had pulled his hair back with a leather strap and wore the Gordon tartan over one shoulder. The fabric was cinched at his waist, his sword on his side. An air of assuredness surrounded him, suiting him perfectly. He looked every bit a laird, someone meant for commanding, ruling over the large clan of the north. Yet, he’d given it all up.

Without looking directly at her, he came beside her, allowing Declan to stand before them, respecting the laird’s position.

“Laird,” Declan began. “I return, prompted by my second, as he wishes to speak with you about a matter of great importance.”

Her father looked past the Gordon and directly to Ian. Elsbeth’s pulse quickened and she let out a breath. “Ian McRainey, if that is your true name, what cause brings you to speak to me?”

Ian’s hand brushed hers, the light touch of reassurance she needed. “I was born Griogair Ian Sinclair, heir to lairdship of Clan Sinclair. Ten years ago, I left my clan to offer my sword to the Gordon. When Declan…er the Gordon came to Moriag, I then became his second.” His voice was strong, not one word wavering, his stance proud as he faced her father who remained silent while his eyes moved from Ian to her on occasion.

Ian continued. “I just spoke to the Sinclairs and renounced my clan.”

Elsbeth and her mother both gasped in unison at such daring.

“He is a Gordon now,” Declan interjected. “He is landed, with coin worthy of any laird. I give you my word that he is a man of great honor.”

Her father finally spoke. “Very well. Everything you’ve said, I would agree with. Yet, how does this involve me and my family?”

“I am here to seek your daughter’s hand in marriage. I vow to love, care for and protect Elsbeth. I would gladly die before ever allowing any hurt or pain to come to her.”

An awkward silence fell over the room. Ian remained still. Elsbeth looked to her mother for a sign of what she thought. In return, her mother’s gaze was warm, filled with love and understanding. Lastly, she glanced to Ian, who looked down to her, his expression determined.

“I had guards follow you yesterday,” her father began and her eyes widened. “They were instructed to bring you back unless they found you to be safe.”

“We knew where you were. It seems the only people in this room that didn’t know you two were in love were…you two.” He stood and her chest expanded with pride at her father’s presence. His keen blue eyes narrowed at Ian. “I would have preferred you not to have touched my daughter until after the wedding, but since it was she that came to you…” He left the sentence unspoken.

Her father rounded the table he’d sat behind and went to Ian. “I agree with Declan. Your honor is worth more to me than a title. I have little doubt you are the man who can stand up to my willful daughter.”

Elsbeth wanted to collapse in relief against Ian, but remained erect through sheer willpower. Her mother laughed and rushed to her. “I am happy for you, dear. We are pleased to finally see you settled. That you are in love is a blessing.”

“Marry with haste. If something came of your time…together, I prefer it to seem as if it happened after.” Everyone laughed except for Elsbeth and Ian. A coloring of Ian’s cheeks was the only indication he gave that her father’s words affected him.

The Gordon and her father both clapped Ian on the back and she rolled her eyes at the camaraderie, which left the females out of the equation. She tapped her foot and Ian turned to her. “Do you not think that, perhaps, some sort of acknowledgment to my presence by your person would be warranted?”

Ian closed the distance between them so quickly she lost her breath. He took her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

One Month later…

A gentle breeze blew through the window and across her bare skin. Elsbeth let out a moan and gripped the coverings harder in an effort to remain grounded. Ian’s head was between her thighs, his hot mouth on her sex. He slid his hands under her bottom giving him more access to her as she fought against the impending climax, wanting to climb higher. She released a cry when he suckled and tumbled off the edge into a wonderful abyss.

In a daze, she felt the bed dip as he moved over her, immediately his mouth seeking hers while he maneuvered to enter her pliant body. “Now, I need you Ian, please.”

He pushed in, filling her completely. His soft sack lay against her skin, a sensation she never grew tired of and the contrast that was his body was something she enjoyed exploring every night. He pushed up extending his arms and peered down at her. “You are my heart, Elsbeth. I will never stop wanting you or loving you.”

The words melted over her and she could only smile up at him, words eluding her. Here in their private paradise, where only Ian and she existed, was what mattered at the moment. He guided her to wrap her legs about his waist and she eagerly complied and slid her hands to his shoulders.

Harder and faster he drove into her and she called his name over and over as, once again, peaking threatened. On and on he continued as she, again, lost all control and became undone. Still she clung to him, her legs tight around his body, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Spill into me Ian, fill me with you.”

Her words spurred him to call out her name as he sunk into her once more, so deep she gasped at the sensation. His seed flowed hot.

Ian rolled to lay beside her, pulling her into his arms, his lips trailing kisses across her face and temples. Both gasped for breath, their hearts thumping against their chests.

Elsbeth squeezed her eyes shut and burrowed into his chest. “If only we could remain like this forever, not facing the stark reality of life outside these walls.”

His arms tightened around her. “Your father is doing better. I believe our marriage has settled him some. He was in good spirits last time we visited, was he not?”

Unable to keep a tear from spilling, she sniffed and nodded. “I believe so, yes.” Her father had finally admitted to being ill. An illness her parents had kept from her and only confessed it after she and Ian married. Although she’d suspected it, denial had kept her from seeing the true extent of her father’s declining health. He was pale and had lost weight, his face drawn and more angular now.

Yet, she had hope that he’d live long enough to meet his grandchildren. She and Ian were not with child yet, but if the past weeks were any indication, it would not be long before they had the first of what she hoped were many bairns.

A soft snore sounded and she glanced up to see that Ian’s head lulled to the side, his full lips parted.

A smile curved her lips as she allowed slumber to carry her away to where she’d share more time with her beautiful, golden warrior.

Excerpt from Highlander, The Archer

Chapter One

Air rasped in and out of Valent’s lungs as he cut through the forest. Low branches slashed his arms and face, but on he raced. Fear coursed through his body and tears fell down his cheeks as he jumped over a fallen tree and cut to the right upon spotting the road back to the cottage where he lived. Footfalls closing in behind him forced Valent to run faster.

A hard hit to the middle of his back sent him stumbling forward. He let out a scream when a second hit landed on the back of his head and he fell to the ground dropping his bow and quiver.

It was impossible to count the blows that followed. Kicks and punches continued until he faded in and out of consciousness. Finally, his attackers ran and he curled into a ball willing the pain to go away. If he didn’t get up and make it home to get patched up, he’d lose his spot as apprentice archer the next day.

Valent dragged himself to sit and winced. His sides ached when he breathed. Blood from his nose dripped down the front of his tunic and he held his head back to staunch the flow.

“Valent!” A deep voice called out. “Get on with it, boy. I’ve yet to see what ye accomplished in the hunt.” Old Tavish came into view mouth falling open. “Not again.”

He hurried to him and bent down peering at Valent’s face. “Who did this?”

Not that it mattered if he named his assailants. There was nothing to be done about it. “Donall, Ceardac, and Beathan.”

“Ah,” Tavish held out a hand. “Come on get up slowly boy. Let’s get ye home… I will send for Meagan to come see about ye.”

“No.” He shook with pain at standing. “Not Meagan.”

It took longer than it should’ve to get to their cottage. Tavish couldn’t help him much, the man was riddled with pain everyday from old battle injuries and walked with a pronounced limp.

“I have decided to speak to the laird in the morning,” Tavish announced with a huff. “’Tis time he does something about his sons. Could ’ave killed ye, lad.”

At six and ten years of age, Valent knew he was much too old to have an old man speak for him. “I will do it. Do not be speaking for me, Tavish. If the laird gets angry, let it be with me.”

“Drink this,” Tavish forced a cup of vile smelling liquid to his lips. “All of it.”

Within moments, he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Do not send for Meagan, please…” his word were slurred and he fought not to sleep. “I beg ye, Tavish.” He hated it when a tear slid down his face. “I must compete tomorrow or any chance for me as an archer is gone.”

There was doubt in Tavish’s gaze. “Ye will be fine, lad.”

“My God, Valent, what happened to you?” Meagan’s worried eyes took in his bruised face. A sad sight he must be. Valent groaned, squeezed his eyes shut and prayed she did not bring her daughter. The fair Lora would never look upon him with admiration, not after seeing him like this.

Meagan placed a wet cloth on his brow. “One day you will grow to be broader and bigger than whoever did this and you will take your revenge. Poor thing, look at you.”

“You won’t be able to compete for the archer guard now.” Lora’s familiar sing-song voice made Valent cringe.

Tavish coughed and cleared his throat. “Of course, he will. And teach the lot of them how much better he is.”

Even though there was pride in Tavish’s words, they angered Valent. It was doubtful he’d be considered. Especially since losing his prize kill when running from Donall and his brothers.

The next day each step brought a streak of pain up Valent’s right leg, but he refused to use a walking stick for support when going to the main keep. He entered the dark interior ensuring to take measured steps. Just inside a small antechamber, a high-pitched voice called. “What happened to you?” Ariana, the laird’s daughter’s rounded eyes met his before taking in the rest of his face. The girl didn’t move from the chair where she lounged while continuing to study him.

The color of autumn leaves, he’d never seen eyes like hers. The first time he’d seen her up close, he was seven years old and she a child of about four. He never forgot her coming to him and attempting to take his hand, asking him to play with her.

“Your brothers,” he replied to the young girl who gasped, her mouth forming an “O.”

“They are no better than the beasties they hunt,” she told him and came closer to inspect his injuries. “Da won’t do anything to them. Ye may as well just go back home.” She shrugged as if no longer interested and returned to her seat.

Footsteps sounded and he whirled to find the laird standing in the doorway. “What are you doing in here?”

“I called him in,” Ariana piped up behind him. “He was limping and I wanted to know what happened.”

The laird’s gaze was cold and distant when meeting his. “You’re the boy Tavish took in are you not?”

Valent bowed his head. “Aye, my laird.”

“I hear good things about your archery skills.” The laird’s comment surprised him. “I suppose your injuries will stop you from competing tomorrow.”

“Nay. I will compete still.” He gulped back at not addressing him correctly. “I beg forgiveness, my laird, you did not ask the question of me.”

“’Tis fine.” The man waived his apology away. “How did you become injured?”

Realization dawned. It was best not to confess the truth of his injuries. If the laird became angry with him, it would be impossible to win a place with the archer guards. He’d remain a stable boy with no aspiration to ever defend his people, his laird.

The laird lifted a brow in question. “Well?”

Ariana got to her feet and stood beside her father. “Donall, Ceardac, and Beathan beat him.”

Of course, the girl would enjoy seeing her brother’s punished. The fact the boys would then take it out on him was not something she’d ever consider.

“Go to your chamber, Ariana.” The laird let out a weary breath before addressing him.

“So the hunting prize, the doe, presented yesterday was not Donall’s kill?” The laird waited on his reply, his gaze without warmth.

Valent knew his best chance at the laird allowing him to compete without a kill would be based on how he answered. “I was not at the presentation of the kills, as Tavish was tending to my wounds. Therefore, I canna say, my laird.”

The McLeod nodded and looked away. “I see.”

He hoped the laird would allow him to compete, but when permission was not forthcoming, he waited to be dismissed. Instead the laird turned away from him. “I’ve always wondered.” The laird paced with his hands grasped behind his back. “Who took you from your home to deposit you at my doorstep and why? You were but three or four at the most. When the housekeeper found you, it was as if you’d just been promptly deposited. Not overly malnourished, nor mistreated. Barely able to speak as you were too young. And you don’t remember anything?”

Although he wanted to leave and immediately see how well he could shoot, hearing of his arrival made him curious. Tavish had discovered him when he’d been fighting for food scraps in the courtyard. The old man had taken pity on him and took him to live with him. He’d already been at the keep for a few weeks by then.

“I would one day like to know where I came from. Why I was abandoned. I only vaguely remember a brother, a boy.”

“You may compete tomorrow. Without a kill to your name, it will take great skill to beat out the others.” The laird eyed his bruised face and bandaged left wrist. “With your injuries I doubt ye will overcome.”

“Thank you, my laird.” Valent bowed his head. “By the end of the day, I hope to pledge my bow and myself to ye.”

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About the Author

Most days USA Today Bestseller Hildie McQueen can be found in her overly tight leggings and green hoodie, holding a cup of tea while stalking the lawn guy. In the afternoons, she browses the Internet for semi-nude men to post on Facebook.

Being a full-time writer is no joke; the co-workers are dogs, no one cleans the office and the only human contact is usually carrying a package and in a hurry to leave.

Author Hildie McQueen loves unusual situations and getting into interesting adventures, which is what her characters do as well. She writes romance because she is in love with love! An author of historical and contemporary romances, she writes something every reader can enjoy.

Hildie’s favorite past-times are reader conventions, traveling, shopping, and reading.

She resides in beautiful small-town Georgia with her super-hero husband Kurt and three doggies.

Visit her website at www.hildiemcqueen.com

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