Highlander's Prize (22 page)

Kael Grant was positioned next to Nareen Grant, and when the man moved forward, his damned sister followed.

Broen cursed but went to meet them. He waited until Kael had stopped his horse.

“I’ve thought a fair number of nasty things about ye, but never that ye’d resort to hiding behind skirts,” Broen declared.

Kael was a worthy opponent, a man Broen knew had earned his reputation. Kael didn’t care for the accusation.

“I need to have words with ye. Bringing me sister was the only way I could think to get ye to hold back on trying to run me through before we talked.”

“Yer father is the one who’s been refusing to have words with me. He’s sitting in yer keep like a woman.”

Kael surprised him by not taking offense. His sister did it for him. “Do nae insult me father.”

“Keep yer peace, Nareen, before young Laird MacNicols takes a fancy to ye. I hear he has a weakness for outspoken women.”

Nareen looked shocked, but only for a moment. Flames flickered in her green eyes, ones which Broen admired, but he didn’t have time for.

“It’s fixing to rain, perhaps yer sister would like to retire inside Deigh Tower, since ye claim ye came for a peaceful conversation.”

The rain had already soaked the new spring grass and every last man present. Nareen didn’t look ill at ease, and she even rolled her eyes, but minded her brother by making no further comment.

Kael grunted. “If that is what it will take to gain enough time to talk this matter through.”

“It is,” Broen insisted. “Agree to send yer sister into Deigh, and I’ll have to admit I want to know what ye have to say, because it must be good for ye to place yer only sibling in such a position.”

“Then she’ll go, with her waiting woman to stand as witness that I do nae have any reason to be swearing vengeance against ye.” Kael lifted one hand and sent his young gillie back up to the waiting ranks of Grant retainers to retrieve the woman.

“Now, just one moment, Kael. Ye cannae ask me to go inside his fortress…” Nareen interjected.

“I’m nae asking it. Laird MacNicols is.” Nareen fumed. But her brother didn’t relent. “A fact that should impress upon ye how close we are to a summer of bloody feuding. I’d only send ye if I felt sure we might resolve the issue and that the MacNicols are reasonable. Ye’ll go.”

Nareen wasn’t happy. She shot her brother a furious look before her matron arrived and they followed Shaw back toward the ranks of MacNicols retainers.

“Ye’ve got brass balls, man. I’ll give ye that, Kael Grant, but do nae be thinking I’m going to be easy to sweet-talk. Now that yer sister is gone, we’ll be settling this man to man.”

“Daphne MacLeod is nae dead.”

Broen felt stunned but not relieved. His temper flared. “Yer father is the one who told me she was. It’s the reason me father rode onto yer land.”

“Aye. He did nae lie either,” Kael continued.

Broen shook his head. “Start making sense, man, or take up yer sword. I’m set to finish this, since ye rode onto me land with yer men outfitted for fighting. I do nae fancy spending the summer wondering when ye’ll begin raiding me villages.”

“Nor do I, which is why I’m here to set the matter straight. Me men are dressed to defend themselves in the event ye will nae listen to reason.”

Broen had to concede the point. “Fair enough. I’m here and listening. Ye’re right. I’d no’ have ridden down here if yer sister was nae with ye. So explain.”

“Me father wrote and said Daphne was dead to ye.”

“Aye, that’s true enough. I’ve seen the letter.” And just thinking about it sent his temper still hot.

“She’s wearing sackcloth in the convent,” Kael muttered. “So… dead to ye.”

Broen struggled to absorb the information. It made sense, but he had to shove aside a sense of impending doom, because he was betrothed to Daphne. The sweet memory of the way Clarrisa had come to him and kissed him rose to torment him. The MacLeods might well demand Daphne back from the church and insist the wedding take place. Another feud could result if he refused to honor his father’s word on the match.

“Ye’re understanding the importance of it. I see it on yer face, MacNicols,” Kael continued. “The wedding banns were cried and the contract sealed. It’s why yer father made the rash choice to try to take Daphne from the convent. It was a church knight who ran him through for transgressing on holy ground with the intent to steal away a woman who would bring a fine dowry to the church.”

“Sweet Christ,” Broen swore. “If that bit of news gets out…”

“Aye. Such a thing must never be known, for yer father would be disgraced and possibly excommunicated for the sin of trying to steal from the church. Me father has hidden it, and the knight died this winter of lockjaw. Fate seems to favor ye for the moment.”

Broen struggled to control his frustration. It felt like a noose was tightening around his neck. “I’m no’ a coward, man. I’ll shoulder what me father did.”

“But neither are ye a fool,” Kael snapped. “Allowing this to come to light will nae help anyone. The church would demand penitence from ye, and no’ just hours on yer knees.”

“They’d want gold.” A great deal of it. Daphne MacLeod had come with a large dowry; that was the very reason Faolan Chisholms had wanted her too. There was also the alliance with the MacLeods. She was a prize bride. The church wasn’t blind to that fact and had killed to protect their claim on her.

“Me father should have left her, but I know he would nae have agreed with me.”

Kael nodded. “Me father kept it quiet because the royalists will be making their move soon. I agree with him. We need the MacNicols strong, no’ trying to scrap together enough food to survive because one woman decided to disobey her father. Me father is nearing the end of his days and will take the knowledge out of this world.”

“What do ye want for the service of keeping quiet?” Broen demanded.

Kael moved his horse closer to Broen’s. He reached into his doublet and pulled loose a length of fine blond hair that was tied at both ends and braided.

“Daphne shed her hair in preparation to take her novice vows. So it’s time for our clans to have a new understanding. I want the MacNicols strong enough to help restore dignity to Scotland, so we both can marry and raise families. Me father gave his word to remain silent, as demanded of him by the church so ye would nae come to reclaim yer betrothed. They want Daphne’s dowry, and no mistake. But I did nae give my word, so I’m telling ye what happened so we can end the rumblings for vengeance from yer men.”

It was a pleasant thought. The struggle consuming his country was becoming impossible to bear.

“What of her kin?”

Kael shrugged and pushed the hair back into his doublet. “Chalmers MacLeod is a royalist. I do nae care what becomes of him. It’s possible Daphne will outlive her kin because she left them. Only time will tell. For the moment, I’ll no’ be the one to tell Laird MacLeod of his daughter’s choice. We do nae need him marching his men up here.”

“Aye,” Broen agreed.

Kael tugged on his reins and sent his stallion circling away from Broen. “Think on the matter, Laird MacNicols. The prince needs us more than we need to distrust each other, and I did let ye have me sister. Send her back, or swear ye’re going to wed her and save me the trouble of trying to find a man who will share a tower with her. It should be against God’s will for a woman to be so beguiling. Mark me words. Half yer men will be drooling like halfwits simply by being in her company for this last hour.”

“I do nae know whether to accuse ye of insulting me men or of bragging over yer sister’s charms, but I’ll send her out.”

“Now who’s insulting whom, MacNicols? Is nae me sister good enough for ye?” Kael Grant laughed before he rode back to his men.

Broen found himself joining Kael in laughter. In fact, he laughed so hard Shaw raised an eyebrow, but that didn’t stop him.

“So… things are right cheery from the sound of ye,” Shaw muttered, obviously confused. He peered at the line of Grants holding shields and swords before looking back at the grin on Broen’s face.

“They are indeed, lads. Kael Grant has cleared up the matter to me satisfaction.”

Surprise appeared on his men’s faces. The ones in front turned to relay the information.

“But how did he do that?” Shaw asked.

Broen sobered. “I’ll have to ask ye to take me word on the matter. Someone ride up and tell Nareen Grant to rejoin her brother.”

His men were frozen with shock for a moment, but they began to move, relief appearing from behind the dutiful expressions they’d worn since leaving Deigh. No doubt the riders heading up to retrieve Nareen would spread much-needed cheer through the families waiting to see what would happen.

He couldn’t lie, but for the moment, it appeared he wasn’t the only one looking for a way to avoid a feud. Still, the secret would always be lurking in the background, coming to mind because he knew it would prove a dark day for the MacNicols if it were ever uncovered. It was still an easier burden to shoulder than knowing he was at war with his neighbor.

Maybe he should consider wedding Nareen. Kael would have a strong inclination to maintain his promised silence if his sister’s position were at stake.

He rejected the idea as soon as he thought it. Nareen was a fine woman, but Clarrisa overshadowed her. In all her stubbornness, and even her English ways, he still thought of her over the fiery Nareen. He watched Kael’s sister ride toward them, leaning low over the neck of her mare and letting the animal take the lead. Her eyes shimmered, and her skirts rippled up too high, showing off her legs, but Nareen never paused. She was one with the ride, enjoying the thrill.

Nothing stirred inside him. It should have—half his men were eyeing her. The other half were thinking of their sweethearts. Just as he was.

It was a sobering thought and a frustrating one, for it unleashed a fear inside him. It would be difficult to keep Clarrisa. More than difficult, it was most likely impossible. Her blood would always be coveted, at least so long as Henry VII ruled England.

“So me visit is concluded, Laird MacNicols. Pity, I had little time to drink very much of yer fine spirits. Yer head of house took a long time to unlock the store she claimed was reserved for ye alone.”

“I’ll send over a cask of it for yer table, since we’re now friends.”

She nodded a single time before digging in her heels and sending her mare forward. Her waiting woman appeared well suited to her position, for she rode as well as her mistress.

He watched only long enough to ensure they made it back to their kin. It took discipline, because he was anxious to return to Clarrisa. Every moment they had was suddenly more precious than he’d noticed. He was going to woo her tonight. Plan the steps of her seduction instead of grabbing her like a… like a brute.

A smile lifted his lips when he turned and looked at his men. “Let’s go home, lads. We’ve a peace to celebrate.”

They cheered, and soon the bell was ringing in the village once more, but this time in welcome. To be truthful, he’d never been so happy to be riding home.

***

“I know me duty. Stop hovering over me,” Edme groused. “Ye look like an Englishman all set to beg for his lady’s favors.”

“I’d think ye’d be more interested in insulting me for no’ taking the time to try to impress the lass before this.” He leaned over the cook again, trying to see what she was arranging on a platter. The kitchen smelled delicious, but he wanted to see for himself that the feast he’d ordered was fine and pleasing to all the senses.

“Well… ye have a point, I’ll admit.”

The cook finally waved to the assistant waiting near the hearth with a large domed lid. The lass held it up to catch the heat from the fire. The cook was busy arranging a roasted goose on a platter. She sliced it carefully before motioning to the girl. The girl hurried over with the lid and set it down on top of the meal to keep it warm while it was carried up to the laird’s chamber. Such tender meat was a luxury normally reserved for feast days or celebrations. New spring rosemary lent its scent to the roasted meat, and there were dark spots from pepper to complete the lavishness of the meal. It was fit for the daughter of a king or the mistress of the castle.

“Quickly now, else it will all go cold,” the cook muttered with a flip of her apron.

The assistants gathered up the meal and began carrying it up to the third floor. Broen followed, trying to decide what was ailing him. The meal smelled delicious, but there was a definite quiver in his stomach. Edme rapped on the chamber door before opening it. The first girl spread a freshly ironed cloth on the table before the serving dishes were set down. Candles were lit, and the scent of beeswax began to waft through the chamber. Clarrisa sat near the window with her back to him.

The cold reception sent a small shaft of doubt through him, but it was most likely she was embarrassed over having been found in bed with him that morning. Edme finished, and he waved her toward the door. She swished her hands to encourage her staff to go ahead of her and gave him a smile before following.

“I understand ye are most likely sore with me for allowing me staff to find us together, but it’s something I plan to attempt to charm ye into accepting, because it goes along with being me lover.”