Highlander's Bride (Heart of the Highlander Series Book 1) (5 page)

Pausing to listen to the retreating footsteps,
Alexander decided to find a suitable reward for his man-at-arms when he
returned. The older Scot had always been a good friend, and though he was a
loyal member of their clan, he had no family to call his own, so he couldn't understand
Alexander's reaction to this circumstance.

A thought brought a smile to his lips. How about
the lass, Fiona? He'd known her since she was a wee bairn following him about
the keep. Now she was a grown woman. And ever since he had awoken with her in his
bed, he felt responsible for her. If he must wed the Gordon lass, arranging for
Fiona to wed Malcolm would fulfill his obligation to her. Aye, she'd make a
pleasing match for Malcolm and he would treat her well. Alexander would mention
her to his man-at-arms when he returned.

A small voice nagged in Alexander's head. Was what
he was proposing not the same as what his father was doing? No. 'Twas
different. He would give Malcolm a choice.

**

For several moments, Katherine sat in the tub
clenching the towel in her hands. Although her eyes still smarted, she could
now see clearly. Clasping the wet cloth in front of her, she stepped out of the
tub and hurried to the door, leaving a trail of sudsy water on the floor. She
lifted the heavy wooden bar and then placed it in the iron brackets on each
side of the door, securing her privacy, and returned to the tub to finish her
bath.

Wiping a wisp of wet hair from her face, she
thought about the odd intruder. How strange he hadn't spoken a word. Perhaps he
was simple-minded. From his smell, she vowed he slept in the stables. Since she
hadn't been able to see him clearly, there was no way to know who it was. He
was probably a servant who came to empty the tub, not realizing she wasn't
finished with her bath. From now on she would keep her door barred.

 After quickly washing her hair, she stepped out
of the tub, and using the damp towel, dried off as best as she could before the
fireplace. Looking down, she saw the faint sheen of moisture still left on her
skin. When the laird's absent son Alexander finally appeared, would he think
her pretty? Fie, even if he did, it did not matter. She was not going to stay.

Determined, she donned the pink robe and, for a
moment, nuzzled her cheek against the soft velvet. Then she picked up the
little carved stool, carried it over before the fireplace and sat down. Aided
by the fire's warmth, she brushed her hair until it was dry and glistening.

She picked up a lock of her long hair and stared
at it. It truly didn't matter about her appearance. If she could manage it, she
wouldn't be staying long. And, if not, then her fate was sealed no matter her
looks.

With a reluctant sigh, she clasped the hairbrush
in her lap and stared at the bright dance of flames. The sights and sounds of a
cozy fire always entranced and soothed her. Its constant crackle reminded her
of a gentle spring rain as it tapped on a leaded roof.  She watched the sway of
the yellow flames as they swirled amongst the oranges and deeper reds and vied
for the blue depths of the blaze. Its calming heat surrounded her even as it
drew her worries away. Katherine allowed her gaze to lose itself in the
flickering lights and her shoulders relaxed from its comforting warmth.

A knock on the chamber door ended her fleeting
reverie. Clutching the soft robe to her, she called out, "Who's
there?"

"Lady Katherine, 'tis I, Gillian. May I
enter?"

Katherine walked across the room, lifted the bar
from the door and returned to stand near the fire.

The servant stepped inside and closed the door.
Her eyes opened wide as she stared at Katherine's hair. "Ooh, m'lady. What
grand hair ye have. 'Tis true. It shines as bright as the halo on the statue of
the Blessed Mother in the chapel." The girl looked toward the gown spread
across the bed and back to Katherine. "I came to help ye dress fer dinner.
Sir Alexander has finished on the practice field. The family will be dining
shortly."

Katherine's heart hammered in her chest. "Oh…
uh, so soon?" She wrapped the comforting robe tighter around her, dropping
her hairbrush in the process. Bending to pick it up, she snagged the robe's hem
on the edge of the stool and it tipped over with a thunk.

 "Allow me, m'lady." The young servant
stood the seat upright and then walked over to the bed. She picked up the gown
and held it out.

 Katherine smiled. "Thank you. 'Twould seem
I'm all thumbs of a sudden."

Gillian slid a clinging turquoise gown of
shimmering silk over Katherine's shoulders. Its neckline and hem were finely
detailed in iridescent beads. Their sparkle danced over the floor reflecting
the light of the brilliant flames in the fireplace. Over this, she donned a
surcoat of deeper blue, cut in such a fashion that it hid very little of the
beautiful gown beneath. Finally, Gillian draped a single linked golden chain
around Katherine's waist. It settled across her hips, suspending a shimmering
crystal pendant over the area where her thighs met beneath the soft layers of
fabric.

Katherine reached for a long veil, but the young
servant gently whisked it away. "Beggin' yer pardon, m'lady, but may I
prepare yer hair?"

Too nervous to do more than bundle her hair up
under a cover and be done with it, Katherine nodded.

Gillian switched the long veil for a short one of
white silk, placed it on Katherine's head and secured it with a thin circlet of
gold. She stepped back to look and beamed. "Ooh, m'lady, when Sir
Alexander sees ye, surely
then
he'll be happy." 

Her face turned deep red and she clapped her hand
over her mouth. Hurrying to the door, she opened it and waited with her gaze on
the floor, her hand still firm over her mouth.

Chapter Three

Alexander stood silently in the shadows of a side
doorway of the huge hall watching and listening. He'd learned early on that a
wise man always summed up his adversary before meeting him in battle. And
battle this was. He would be fighting for his freedom and perhaps Fiona's honor
as well. He had searched the keep earlier, but she was nowhere to be found and
he'd dared not ask too much lest he stir up trouble for the lass.

He saw his father and William enter the hall,
dressed in the MacGregor tartan of red and green; their bonnets trimmed with a
single sprig of pine, their clan mark of identification. They crossed to the
middle of the great hall and nodded as two people entered and approached them.

Alexander recognized his da's friend, Angus
Gordon. The attractive older woman beside him must be his wife. He watched
silently as they greeted each other.

"Lady Monique," Ian said, "you make
a fine, bonnie Scot in that tartan you wear. I wish to present to you, my
younger son, William."

William bowed and kissed the back of her
outstretched hand. "Lady Gordon, 'tis a pleasure. Sir Angus, you are a
lucky man."

Angus wrapped an arm around her waist. "Aye,
laddie, that I am."

Alexander watched Lady Monique gaze around the
room and he stepped back further into the shadows. He wasn't ready to make his
presence known. Her voice had a distinct French accent even though she spoke
their Gaelic well. "Laird MacGregor, I am anxious to meet Alexander. Is he
not yet in the hall?"

"Nay, my lady. He… he will join us soon. I
believe he tarried too long on the practice field, 'tis all." Ian grinned
at Angus. "Mayhap he wished to spend the last hours in trial combat before
his single days are vanquished by the betrothal, eh?" Turning back to face
Monique, he said, "If you will excuse me, my lady, there is something I
must to attend to. William, escort Laird and Lady Gordon to their seats at the
dais. My friends, I will return soon." He bowed and walked across the room
toward the main entrance.

Alexander watched as people began to file in en
masse. The great hall came to life with waves of movement and noise as an ocean
of clan members and castle folk streamed in. Servants carried in fresh
trenchers for the meal, holding them high above the wash of people, as if they
floated on air. A serving wench passed him carrying a large platter of food. He
looked back at his sire. By the frown on his face, 'twas obvious he wasn't
pleased.

Ian scanned the throng in the hall and called out
loudly to the same servant who had just walked past. "Lass, have you seen
Alexander?"

"Aye, m'lord, o'er there." She pointed
to the dim corner where he stood.

Damn, he'd been spotted.

Ian followed her motion and glared at him. He
jerked his head in silent command toward the dais, then turned and hurried to
the table.

Alexander met his look without a flinch. Well, he
couldn't delay the battle forever. He may as well meet his adversary. Taking a
deep breath, he strode through the tide of activity. In moments, he was near
the dais.

Lady Monique looked up as he approached. She
smiled at him, then touched her husband's arm and spoke. Although her voice was
not overly loud, Alexander was close enough to hear her words. "You were
right, Angus. He does look like a fine match for Katherine. Do you think he is
nervous about meeting her?"

Alexander clenched his jaw. Did his unease show?
He would have to concentrate more on his bearing. Determined to look
nonchalant, he forced a slight smile to his lips. He'd appear at ease if it
killed him.

The noise level in the room rose slightly.
Clansmen nodded, poked each other in the ribs, and gestured as he passed them.
He pretended not to notice and kept walking. As he moved through the hall, servants
brought in more food. From the blazing cook fires of the sweltering
smoke-filled kitchen, able-bodied clansmen carried large crocks of steaming
colcannon and hotch potch. A few women walked around the room ladling the
vegetable and meat stew out into large bowls as the men lifted the heavy crocks
to the tables. Festive chords from a lute sounded near the dais where a
traveling minstrel began to play a popular ballad.

Alexander forced his fingers to unclench at his
sides. Everyone seemed prepared to celebrate in glorious fashion. All but him.
He'd rather be on the practice field. Aye, there he could move freely and
breathe easily. There he was in control. He halted directly in front of his
father.

Ian sat silently, a stern expression on his face.
Candlelight reflected off the MacGregor badge on his chest. The Gaelic words,
S'
Rioghail Mo Dhream
, were carved deeply into it.

Alexander glanced at the badge. It's meaning,
"Royal is my Race", had been drummed into his head since he'd been a
wee lad. Would his marriage change that? Just who was this unknown lass he was
to unite with the noble MacGregor line? What if he owed his name to Fiona? By
the saints, he must ensure this impending marriage was not valid until there
was no doubt.

Ian nodded. "Ah, son, come meet Lady Monique
and Laird Angus Gordon, true friends and the happy parents of your intended,
Lady Katherine."

Alexander walked up to them and bowed solemnly.

Angus, dressed in a tartan of red, green, blue,
and black plaid, wore a bonnet with a sprig of heath. His lady, beside him, was
dressed in a green gown with a sash of the same tartan. Her brown hair was
swept up on top of her head. Looking at her, something niggled at the back of
his mind but he wasn't sure why.

Glancing back at Laird Gordon, Alexander noticed
his hair. It, too, was brown. That was it. That was the puzzle. The woman he'd
discovered bathing had hair the color of pale butter. Could he have been
mistaken about her identity? Who was she? Well, there was naught to be done,
but agree to the betrothal for now. After speaking with Fiona, he would abide
by his duty whatever it was. But he couldn't help wondering just who had he
seen.

Clearing his throat, he raised his voice loud
enough to be heard across the hall. "Laird and Lady Gordon, I welcome you
in friendship and do this day vow to take your daughter, Lady Katherine, as my
wife. I heed the responsibility and do pledge my alliance and protection to
her." As he finished the formal oath, he flexed his shoulders in attempt
to relieve the tension in his body.

Suddenly, all of the noise and activity in the
great hall ceased. The abrupt silence drew his attention and he turned his gaze
to the room's main entrance. He felt his jaw drop and for the life of him,
couldn't seem to remember how to breathe.

For a moment, he just stood there stunned as any
battle weary warrior, before he managed to draw a deep breath and regain his
composure.

An entrancing golden-haired woman stood in the
doorway beside Gillian. She was the one. The woman he'd seen. A slight flush
covered her face. Was it from nerves or soap that had lingered over-long on her
delicate skin? The dark gold of her wet tresses had dried to a flaxen blonde,
framing her face with a glow that shimmered in the torchlight.

Standing proud and straight, she was taller than
he imagined she'd be, which called all the more attention to her full breasts
and enticing, curved hips. Even across the hall, he could see the brilliant
blue of her eyes, framed by long, dark lashes against her ivory skin. Her lips
were full and beautifully shaped. By the saints, they begged to be kissed. 

He watched her turn and whisper to Gillian with a
smile. The servant curtsied and left her. There was an aura of beauty and
sensuality about her that took his breath away. God, he'd never seen a more
beautiful woman.

Movement to his right caught his eye. He stepped
aside as Laird Gordon passed him and walked toward the entrance.

The older man's face beamed in obvious pride as he
walked up to the golden haired vision and offered his arm. His deep voice rose
loud enough to be heard. "'Tis truly lovely you look, my Katy. Come meet
your new family. Dinna be frightened, lass. They are all good men."

Alexander gazed at Katherine as she placed her
hand on Angus' arm and walked beside him. She moved with the grace of a queen. 

"Aye, she's a proud beauty," whispered a
clansman behind Alexander. Another man nodded and chuckled. "She'll soon
have the laird's son dancin' to her tune."

The sly remark shook Alexander from his besotted
musing. By the saints, the woman's beauty had already unsettled him. He'd best
get himself under control if he planned to remain master of his own life.
Remembering the vow he'd made to himself not to be led about like a lovesick
swain, he composed his face with a cool, controlled welcome.

The sea of people in the great hall divided and
drew back as Laird Gordon and his daughter passed, leaving a wake of nods and
whispers like the gentle hush of the outgoing tide. And, like riding the crest
of a smooth fast wave, his future bride was swiftly propelled to the front of
the room to be introduced to him for the first time.

Her sire cleared his throat and his deep voice
carried across the hall as he made the formal introduction. "Sir Alexander
MacGregor, I, Laird Angus Gordon, give to you this day, my daughter, Lady
Katherine, to be pledged in troth of marriage. I give her, as well as all of
her lands and possessions, to your keeping. May you know many years of
happiness and give me many strong grandchildren."

A deep blush spread across the lass's face before
she bowed her head from view. For several moments, Alexander stood immobile
thinking on his father's words, the betrothal ring gripped tightly in his
fist.  Damn it, man, do it now and be done with it! Silently, he opened his
fingers and slipped the silver ring on her left hand then held her hands
between his own. He drew a deep breath and slowly spoke the odious return vow.
"I, Sir Alexander MacGregor, do accept and take you, Lady Katherine, as my
betrothed, as all here do witness this day."

Cheers and applause rang out across the hall, nearly
drowning out his words. Turning to the dais, he led her to an empty chair
beside his at the table. Two silver goblets filled with sweet wine stood in
readiness. Silently, he handed one to her. What consequence would come of his
vow was still to be seen. Aye, he wouldn't know that until he had spoken with
Fiona.

**

Katherine sat motionless for a moment before she
reached out to take the wine. Her fingers grazed her betrothed's hand. It felt
rough and strong. The slight touch sent tremors of trepidation coursing through
her. She shivered with the unexpected rush of its intensity. The tingling
sensation was more than nervousness. Never before had she felt such an
immediate reaction toward a man. Unprepared for the dizzying emotion, she took
a steadying breath and took a small sip of wine. Sweet Mary, she wanted no part
of this.

Music and laughter broke out as the betrothal
feast began in earnest. Tempting dishes were passed around. Savory food was
heaped on bread trenchers to the apparent delight of everyone there. Everyone,
that is, but her.

Katherine looked at the single trencher she shared
with Alexander, as was the custom. Her mouth was so dry, 'twas doubtful she
could swallow a bite. Taking another sip of wine, she watched as he began to
eat heartily. Fie, only a man would be so calm, faced with this catastrophe.

Alexander nodded coolly at her as he reached for
another piece of cheese. "Lady Katherine, I trust our Highland fare is to
your liking."

Endeavoring to keep the tense edge from her voice,
she said, "Aye, my lord, but I fear I may yet be weary from our journey
here and do not find my appetite as usual."

He simply cocked an eyebrow. "Indeed."

Katherine met his look with determination and took
a bite of venison. She'd accepted the wretched betrothal. What other choice did
she have? But she would be no man's subservient slave. She would not give up
her spirit along with her name.

Looking out across the hall, she saw many cheerful
faces. At least some folk found the occasion a reason for joy. For several
minutes, she watched the people in the hall and tried to ignore the man beside
her.

Eventually, Alexander's deep voice drew her
attention. His tone was laced with obvious boredom. "Tell me, Lady
Katherine, do you know the custom of a betrothed lass to pleasingly wait upon
her lord?" Thrusting his empty goblet toward her, he added, "I desire
a fresh drink of our Highland usquabae from yon table."

Irritation coursed through her at the arrogance of
his words. So, already it began. Apparently he expected her to docilely leave
her seat and fetch him a drink of the locally made whiskey. The gall of the
man. She was his betrothed not his servant. Well, he would soon learn she had no
intention of accepting a meek, submissive role.

Straightening her shoulders, she turned to one of
the young servants as he passed by. "Lad, kindly see to it that your
master be given a fresh serving of usquabae. 'Twould seem his great thirst has
made him too weak to serve himself."

With a quick, "Aye, m'lady," the
wide-eyed servant did as she bid.

When she looked back at Alexander, a quiver of
apprehension ran through her at his clenched jaw and grim expression. Fie,
there was naught to be done about it. He'd best learn the way of it now.

Movement from across the table happily drew her
attention from his frown. William, the man she'd been introduced to as her
betrothed's brother, stood and called out to the assembly. "Good men and
women, all. I wish to make a toast to the happy couple!" Smiling, he
raised his chalice toward the crowded hall.

Sensing his good wishes were genuine, she
deliberately avoided Alexander's visage and calmed slightly.

Turning to face her, the man continued,
"Brother Alexander and Lady Katherine, may your lives be joined together
as one and may you always know true happiness in spirit, friendship and
laughter, to guide you in love's way." As he raised his drink to his lips,
clansmen and castle folk called out their approval and drank to the toast.