Claiming the Highlander (21 page)

Once Sin returned, the men gave Maggie her privacy as Braden prepared food to break the morning fast.

Braden glanced longingly into the trees where Maggie had vanished. He’d spent half the night just watching her. Watching the way her chest rose and fell with her deep, even breaths. The way her arm gracefully curled under her head to support it.

The way she had gently reached up in the middle of the night to scratch at her cheek and rub her eye like some adorable little child.

Sleep did the most incredible things to her. It softened the tautness of her face and made her appear like a fey imp. The same imp who had once filled his boots with flour. He laughed.

Where had the time gone?

One day they had been children, running
through the heather-filled moors together as they chased butterflies, and now she was grown. Grown into a strong woman who captivated him.

And this attraction he felt for her. What was it? Where did it come from?

It must be the allure of forbidden fruit, he decided. He knew he couldn’t have her and so he craved her all the more. Aye, that was it. That made sense to him.

Once they were around others and he could find another woman, all would be set right. Maggie wouldn’t haunt his thoughts or torment his body. He would be his old self once again, the Braden who made fathers cringe in their sleep and women giggle at his approach.

And yet some part of his mind argued. It told him that she had changed him. That somehow, some way, he wasn’t the same man he’d been when they started this journey.

Braden didn’t listen.

He couldn’t afford to.

Maggie returned to the camp and in less than an hour they were on their way. They spoke little as they made their way through the forest, ever vigilant for the thieves.

As the day wore on, the sky above became dark and forbidding. A storm was coming, and they would need shelter for the night.

Reluctantly, Braden led them out of the forest toward a small village, brimming with activity. The wattle-and-daub huts were uninviting, and
there was a large Celtic Cross in the center of them.

As they approached the unfamiliar people, Braden glanced down at Sin’s legs. True to Sin’s prediction, they had actually darkened and were no longer so obviously white.

Maggie’s still looked a bit too womanly for his tastes, but with any luck no one would notice that, and if they did happen to glance her way, they would merely attribute it to youth.

He hoped.

As he watched her, he saw the fear and trepidation settle on her face as her gaze darted about the people and she tightened her grip on the pack. He hated to see her scared. She had nothing to fear, not so long as he was there. He would never let any harm come to her.

So he sought of a way to make her smile.

“I wonder if there’s a bed to be found here,” he whispered teasingly in her ear.

Her face turned bright red at his words. “I’m sure there’s nothing more promising than a stable,” she mumbled under her breath.

Sin opened his mouth to speak, but Braden caught him on the arm. “Not a word, brother. We’re no longer on MacAllister lands, and in this area, that English accent of yours will quickly get our throats cut.”

Sin shot him an arrogant look that spoke loudly,
Let them try it.

However, Braden wasn’t in the mood to fight,
and luckily Sin glared at him but kept his lips in a tight, grim line.

Braden moved ahead of them and approached a man who was loading hay into his wagon. About two score years in age, the man had hard lines around his face and a full gray beard laced with just a hint of brown. Though the man appeared clean and well kept, his brown and yellow plaid was ragged around the edges.

“Good day to you, sir,” Braden said to the man.

The man paused in his loading and eyed him suspiciously. “Who are you?”

Braden answered without hesitation, “My name’s Sean.”

“And who do you follow?”

“Ewan of the Clan MacLucas.”

The man’s silvery eyes narrowed even more. “I never heard of him.”

“We’re from the isles,” Braden said. “My brothers and I are on our way to MacDouglas lands to see our sister and her new babe. I was wondering if there might be a place we could spend the night.”

The old man accepted his words with a laugh. “MacDouglas lands, you say? You’ll not have a happy time there, I’ll wager.”

“How so?”

The old man scratched his beard. “My sister married a MacDouglas, and I heard from my brother-in-law that she and the rest of the clan’s women have taken over the castle from the men.
They’re standing the battlements like a group of Amazons and have threatened to tar any man dumb enough to venture near them until the MacDouglas ends the feud with the MacAllister.”

Braden feigned disbelief. “You don’t say?”

The man’s visage turned dark. “Aye. ‘Tis an evil, demonic thing that has possessed the women. I heard the MacDouglas has petitioned the bishop for an exorcism.”

“To be sure,” Braden said, then dared an amused glance to Maggie, whose cheeks seemed to be a shade or two redder than they’d been a few minutes ago. “Imagine a woman not wanting her man. Saints preserve us.”

The man nodded gravely, then his mood seemed to lighten a degree. He returned to loading his hay. “Old Seamus rents to strangers. Damn fool, he. You’ll find his place down near the stable.”

“My thanks,” Braden said, then turned and led Maggie and Sin toward the south end of the village where the stable lay.

“Sean?” Maggie whispered as he drew near her.

“I didn’t want to chance the name Braden, lest it jog someone’s memory.”

“Quick thinking,” she agreed.

As they drew near the stable, Braden had to force himself not to curl his lip. Old Seamus’s home was about as clean as a sty.

Still, it would keep them out of the rain, and
the last thing any of them needed was to catch their death before the MacDouglas had a chance to kill them.

He found Seamus outside his house, fetching water from a well. The old man paused at their approach and eyed them with great reservation.

“I don’t have beds for three strapping lads,” he said after Braden had asked him for a place to stay. “But I do have the stable, if you’re of a mind to use it.”

Maggie cast him a smug
I told you so
look.

“It’s not fancy,” Seamus continued, “but it comes with a meal, and it’ll keep the coming rain off your heads.”

It would do. And judging from the smell of the man, the stable would be preferable anyway.

“How much?” Braden asked.

The old man stroked his chin thoughtfully as he swept them with a measuring gaze. “Free, if you lads don’t mind doing some chores for me.”

Braden noted the strained look on Sin’s face. He could tell his brother would sooner brave the rain than do anything menial for a Highlander. Indeed, knowing Sin, it was a wonder he didn’t turn berserker and start laying waste to the entire village.

He would make it up to Sin later. For now they had to be practical.

“Sounds good,” Braden said. “What can we do for you?”

“There’s a pile of wood in the back that needs chopping and a fence that needs repair.”

Braden clapped Sin on the back and headed toward the area.

“We’ll get busy, then,” Braden said to Seamus as he led them off.

“Hey, lad?” Seamus asked, stopping him mid-stride.

Braden turned to look back.

“What are your names?”

“I’m Sean, and this”—he gestured to Maggie— “is my brother James, and”—he indicated Sin— “Durbhan.”

Seamus eyed them cautiously. “They don’t talk much, do they?”

“Not much to say,” Braden said.

He seemed to accept that. “Fine, then, but I do warn the three of you to keep your hands off me daughters. I may be an old man, but I’ve got a bow and a shovel, and no one here would care what I did with the lot of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Braden said, trying his best not to laugh at the warning. Sin would never lay hands to one of his daughters, and Maggie …

He’d best not even think of
that
lest it make him laugh.

“Shall we chop wood first?” Braden asked them as he led them to the small yard behind the house.

“Chop wood, my arse,” Sin sneered in a low tone. “I’d sooner—”

“It strikes me,” Braden said, interrupting him, “that you’re supposed to be mute.” He looked at Maggie. “Have you ever met a mute who spoke more?”

Maggie didn’t look one tiny bit amused. She said nothing as Braden dropped his pack, then grabbed the axe from the stump where the old farmer had embedded it.

Fury smoldered on Sin’s face as he picked up another axe from the ground and glared at Braden, who half expected his brother to lob the axe at his head.

Instead, Sin turned on his heel and cleaved a large log in two with one angry whack.

Shaking his head at Sin, Braden grabbed another limb and set to work on it.

Maggie stood back as they started breaking the large pieces of tree into fire logs. Her heart ached as she remembered the farmer’s warning about his daughters.

Why, oh, why couldn’t the man have sons?

Maybe they’re ugly.

Maggie paused at the thought. Aye, maybe they were toothless like the farmer, and large, heavyset women with warts and pockmarks who wouldn’t tempt Braden at all.

Seizing that hope, she moved to lift one of the large logs, but Braden stopped her. “You can get the kindling. Let us take the larger ones.”

Without a word, Maggie set the log down and picked up the smaller bits, then took them to the woodpile next to the wattle-and-daub house.

Turning back toward Braden and Sin, she paused to watch the men in awe as they hefted the heavy axes and broke the logs with ease. A fine sheen already covered their bodies and she couldn’t help but stare at the way Braden’s shirt drew taut over his muscles every time he brought the axe back.

Mesmerized, she clenched her hands into fists as she fought the urge to touch the bulging muscles of his arm. Or wipe his damp black hair back from his forehead.

Oh, but the man was glorious and disturbing to her well-being.

Desire coiled through her in a way she’d never before known. Now that she had a taste of Braden, she was like some possessed drunkard craving more ale. For the first time in her life, she understood obsession. Understood
true
desire for a man.

And heaven help her, but she wanted him more than she ever had.

Just when she was certain she could stand no more, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. A chill of foreboding ran down her spine.

Someone was watching them. She was sure of it.

Half expecting to find the thieves, Maggie
looked up to see an attractive girl of about a score of years, watching the three of them intently.

When the girl realized Maggie had noticed her, she smiled widely, displaying a
full
set of perfectly white teeth, and toyed with her long blond braid, giving Maggie a come-hither stare that would have made any man puff his chest out in prideful interest.

Damn her luck! The girl was more than just attractive, she was downright beautiful.

It was then the girl was joined by four more equally attractive lasses, ranging in age, Maggie guessed, from ten-and-three to just over a score of years.

Maggie went cold.

Oh, bother, they were in trouble now, she realized. She knew the look on the lasses’ faces.

Man-hungry.

Maggie gulped in fear. The last thing she needed was for one of those lasses to come groping on her body and discover they had a lot more in common than any of the girls could suspect.

Worse, as Maggie looked at them, she knew without a doubt where Braden would be spending the night. And it surely wouldn’t be as her pillow.

Her sight dulling at the thought, Maggie grabbed the small stack of kindling and moved to pile it with the rest.

“Beg pardon,” the eldest lass said as she
brazenly approached them. Her light blond hair shined even in the murky daylight, and her proportions were the type Maggie’s brothers often fantasized about. “Me sisters and I thought you might be wanting a drink.”

The girls giggled as they came forward to hand each of them a cup of ale. Maggie took the cup and quickly put a few feet between herself and the lass who had handed it to her.

The girl poked her lips out in an obviously practiced pout, but Maggie couldn’t care less as she turned her attention toward Braden.

He took a cup from the eldest. The buxom lass rested her hip against the stump nearest Braden as she fondled the axe handle in a suggestive manner and stared hungrily up at him.

“I was just telling me sisters how nice it is to have such strong …”—the blonde’s gaze dipped to Braden’s chest, where his saffron shirt was damp with perspiration—“men around to help with chores.”

Braden’s eyes darkened speculatively, and worse, he smiled. “And what be your name?”

“Tara,” she said, purring her name.

Maggie had the sudden urge to wrench every strand of blond hair from the young woman’s head.

“I’m making a special hotchpotch tonight,” Tara continued, “just for
you.”
She reached out to touch Braden’s chest.

Braden cast a quick glance at Maggie, who glared at him with the full weight of her displeasure.

The smile faded from his lips, and then he removed Tara’s hand from his chest. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy it.”

Still, Maggie’s heart ached as she wondered if he’d have bothered removing Tara’s hand if she weren’t standing right there watching them.

Tara pulled her hand back to rub it slowly along her collarbone as she trailed her gaze over Braden’s body, pausing it briefly at the area where his thighs met.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” she said, her voice conveying a thick double entendre.

Maggie turned her back on the two of them, unable to stand anymore.

Let him have the harlot. Maggie had more important things to do, like gather up this stupid firewood so that she and Sin could have a roof over their heads while Braden gallivanted with that strumpet.

Maggie dumped the kindling, loudly, then turned to gather more.