The Highlander's Bride Trouble (27 page)

They tugged on their caps before she returned to the tower room. She paced back and
forth, unable to sit in the chair for another day.

She sensed the battle Saer was waging, would have sworn she felt the struggle he was
engaged in. Sweat glistened on his forehead as his fever rose even higher.

Maud pressed her lips together in a frown as she tended to him.

Nareen took his hand and pulled it close.

“Ye cannae leave me,” she muttered. “Nae when I have finally found someone to trust
again.”

He jerked, but his eyes did not open.

“I trust ye, Saer MacLeod, do ye hear?”

She convinced herself he did, speaking to him of all the things they had left to do
in life.

She just wished she wasn’t running out of hope.

***

An owl screeched and woke her.

Nareen lifted her head and stared out the open doors of the
terrazzino
.

The bird was perched on the half wall, watching her with eyes that reflected the yellow
light of the moon.

“Ye cannae have him,” she informed the bird. “Do ye hear? Saer MacLeod is nae going
to die.”

But his hand was cold.

She gasped and reached out to lay her hand on his chest. The heat was gone, and for
a moment, she feared the life had left him while she slept.

But his chest filled, rising up and delighting her. She slid her hands over him, inspecting
every inch of him to make sure the fever was truly gone.

“I do…enjoy yer touch…”

His voice was raspy, but more dear to her than any sound on earth.

“Maud did it…ye did it…”

He tried to sit up but managed only to lift his head. “I cannae seem to do anything.”

She lifted the goblet to his lips. “Ye survived. For now, that is enough.”

***

Kael Grant held his father’s hand. The old man fought to draw breath and could no
longer close his grip.

But he opened his eyes, and there was a clarity in them Kael hadn’t seen in years.

“Yer sister?” he asked. “Is she content?”

“I believe she is.”

His father clicked his tongue, as though he was having trouble controlling it. “Ye’ll
make…certain?”

“I will never leave it to chance again,” Kael promised.

“Good.”

His father was straining, his breath becoming more labored. “I am proud of ye…both.”

He succeeded in closing his hand around Kael’s. The pressure registered just a moment
before his father shuddered and went still. Kael sat still for a long time before
easing the signet ring off his father’s hand. His laird was dead. He stared at the
ring, unable to put it on for a long time.

But he heard the retainers in the yard coming in after training, and the bells striking
the changing of the guard along the walls.

He pushed the ring onto his hand. The way to honor his father was to become the man
his father had wished him to be.

Laird of the Grants.

***

The Earl of Ross looked up as his men came into the Great Hall. It was only noon,
and he’d just finished his first goblet of wine.

The men stopped and pulled on the corners of their bonnets, but there was something
wrong with them. There were only three, and they were tattered and dirty, one wearing
a bandage around his leg. One of them walked up the steps to the high table and laid
his short sword on the table in front of him.

“What is this?” the earl questioned. He peered closer at the blade. “Is that dried
blood?”

“Aye, as ye instructed. It is the blood of Saer MacLeod. The captain was slain after
carrying out yer order to ambush Laird MacLeod. The wound looked mortal, but I did
nae see him die.”

The earl’s face transformed into one of horrified remorse. “What are ye saying? That
I ordered such a thing?”

“Ye did.” The other two men nodded.

The earl sank back into his chair, his wine goblet forgotten on the table. He looked
like he was withering before them, and he died with his eyes open.

There was no weeping on Ross land, only a deep sense of relief.

***

Saer MacLeod didn’t care for resting.

Two weeks later, Nareen was ready to scream at the surly nature of her husband.

Three weeks later, she woke to him trying to dress.

“Are ye mad?” she asked as she kicked the bedding aside.

He glared at her. “I will go mad if I stay in this chamber another day. There is work
to do, woman.”

“I knew ye were too stubborn to die.”

She helped him with his shirt and kilt. He sat down for her to lace his boots, because
he still could not bend over without pain.

His people greeted him with a cheer that filled the Great Hall. But her husband was
eager to get into the yard. Once there, the sunlight seemed to restore him. His captains
clustered around him as the master masons waited their turn to confer with him. Nareen
drank in the sight before turning to begin what she’d promised she do if he survived.

***

“The tens need archery lessons today,” he called after her.

Nareen turned and offered her husband a slow shake of her head. His brow furrowed
in confusion. She moved back toward him as the group waiting for him backed away.

“I’m off to the stillroom for lessons with Maud.”

“Why?”

She pressed a hand against his chest. “Because ye know the art of being a husband,
and I need to learn the art of being a wife. That is the way to make a better future
for the MacLeod. I’ll be making sure the women of this clan are skilled and knowledgeable.”

Saer covered her hand with his. “I would nae see ye feeling forced into a place, Nareen.”

“I love ye for that.” She lowered her voice so her words stayed between them. “And
I am happy to be yer wife. So I am off to become a better one.”

“No regrets for taking a woman’s place?”

“I plan to stand beside ye, Husband, and I like that place very much.”

He nodded approvingly. “So do I.”

His eyes glittered, looking for a moment like they were flooded with unshed tears.
He pressed her hand to his chest with more force, the level of emotion going through
him too intense not to feel.

“I love ye, Nareen.”

She stiffened. “Ye do nae have to say that.”

He slid an arm around her and pulled her close. She froze, worried that she might
cause him pain. But he chuckled wickedly.

“I see uses for this wound at last. Never did I think there was a force strong enough
in the Highlands to bring ye to heel,” he whispered.

“Ye’d be bored to tears within a month if I remained docile.”

“True.” He placed a kiss against her lips. “Ye kept me alive with yer love, lass.
I understand me mother now and pity me father for nae being able to hold on to the
woman he loved. I will nae make the same mistakes he did.”

They were surrounded by the morning activity, the steady chipping of stone and the
grinding of the cranes. His voice was low and soft, for her ears alone.

“Ye won’t?” she asked.

He shook his head, and she slid her hands along his jaw. “I won’t be making the mistake
of thinking me past must control me future. I trust ye, Saer MacLeod.”

His eyes brightened, and his embrace tightened. For a moment, she was sure there was
nothing in the world except for the two of them.

And their love.

***

She refused to scream.

Nareen drew in a deep breath and blew it out in a long stream. She opened her eyes
and looked at the stars above her, smiling as she felt her baby squirming inside her.

Two maids came onto the
terrazzino
, their eyes wide as they took in the fact that Nareen had ordered the birthing chair
to be set up outside. It was summer, and the weather warm.

Her belly began to tighten again. She felt it moving across from her hips to her mons
as her labor increased.

She still refused to scream. Only a grunt escaped her lips.

“Bear down…” Maud instructed. The older woman stood near while two other, younger
midwives stood by to help catch the babe.

“I see its head, mistress…this next pain should see it done…”

Nareen felt it coming and gulped a breath before pushing. She felt the baby moving,
dropping into the world as one of the midwives squealed with delight.

“’Tis a boy! A fine lad.”

The baby let out a wail as he took his first lungful of air.

Nareen gripped the armrests of the birthing chair and leaned back as the midwives
tended to her. Sweat was beaded all over her body. Her chemise stuck to her. She eyed
the bathing shower with longing.

But first she’d greet her son. The trestle table was outside too, and draped with
cloth. The midwives had laid the baby on it to clean him.

“Oh sweet mother of Christ…”

Nareen opened her eyes and sat up. One of the midwives was staring down at the new
baby with wide eyes. Maud frowned and leaned closer to get a good look at the infant.

“More light,” the elder commanded.

“What is it?” Nareen demanded. “Let me see him.”

Her voice rose as Maud took a candle and lowered it so she might see something on
the baby clearer. No one answered Nareen, sending alarm through her.

It was more than that. It was true fear. She already loved her child, couldn’t bear
the idea that something might be wrong with him.

“Maud…tell me what is amiss.”

Her voice rose, and there was a crash as the door of the inner chamber was shoved
in. Saer charged into the chamber in defiance of the tradition that women attend to
birthing.

“What is wrong?” he demanded.

“Naught,” Maud proclaimed.

She turned, leaning on her cane, and displayed a crooked smile. “I believe everything
is now perfect.”

She waved one of the other midwives forward. The woman carefully scooped up the newborn
babe and brought him toward his parents. Nareen held out her arms, but Saer had to
help her hold the baby because she was shaking from the effort of the birth. They
cuddled him close as they inspected him, counting his fingers and toes twice.

Maud made her way closer. “Look at his right temple, mistress.”

Someone held up a candle, so its yellow light illuminated the new child.

There on his temple was a red mark. It was red and slightly raised, and in the form
of a cross.

“It’s a sign that the MacLeod made the right choice for laird,” Maud proclaimed. “God
has put his mark upon yer son to prove he has divine favor.”

The women all made the sign of the cross over themselves. One ran to the half wall
of the
terrazzino
and leaned out. “A son!” she yelled to those waiting in the courtyard below. A cheer
rose up, but Nareen was too busy looking at her child.

Saer kissed her temple. “Ye astound me, lass.”

“I’ll be having a daughter too,” she informed him softly.

He smoothed the hair off her forehead. “Of course ye will.”

Music started up below in the courtyard, in spite of the lateness of the hour. The
wail of bagpipes lifted into the air, and her son opened his eyes wide and stopped
fussing.

Saer stroked his cheek with one fingertip. “That’s a fine Highlander lad. Welcome
to the MacLeods.”

Read on for an excerpt from

MacLeod land, late summer 1488

“Ye are nae me husband…”

“Maybe I want it just that way, marriage is boring…”

Daphne MacLeod kicked at her bedding, but the dream held her tight. Part of her was
content, maybe even eager to sink down into the memory of being in Norris Sutherland’s
arms.

“I want ye demanding and passionate, nae filled with duty, lass…”

She twisted again, feeling his arms around her. His strength had been impressive and
arousing. Never had she imagined how much she’d enjoy being pressed against a man,
beneath him or when she decided to straddle his hips and take charge of their pace.
Just as long as she felt his hands holding her as though letting her go might devastate
him

“And I want ye to stop telling me what to do…”

Need and yearning filled her. It traveled along her body, teasing parts of her she
hadn’t known could feel so good. The sensation was building, twisting tighter as her
body neared the point where it would burst into a shower of pleasure.

Instead, she jerked out of her sleep, escaping the hold of the dream only to discover
that her freedom was cold and dark. She pressed her fist against her mouth to silence
her cry. The chamber was silent, and yet it felt as though Norris was in it. She could
sense him, would swear she felt him close enough to reach out and touch.

But there was no need to light a candle. The wind rattled the window shutters, blowing
inside through the broken glass to chill her arms. She lay back down and pulled the
bedding up. Her thick comforter was a luxury, and she snuggled beneath it gratefully.
But her belly growled, reminding her there had been little comfort set out at supper.
The stew the cook produced had been more water than anything else, but it had needed
to fill many bowls.

It was a sure bet Norris Sutherland, heir to the Earldom of Sutherland, wasn’t awake
in the dark hours of the morning with an empty belly. Even his accommodations in a
military camp had been grand, the bed on which he’d taken her maidenhead a comfortable
one.

Ye mean the one ye joined him on as his lover…

She closed her eyes and ordered herself to sleep while she might. The summer days
were long, and there was much to do. Once winter closed its icy fist around the Highlands,
there would be naught to do but seek out her bed for warmth.

She certainly wouldn’t be seeking out Norris Sutherland. No. She might have enjoyed
the time she spent in his bed, but she could not ever forget that she had gone there
to avoid wedding a man who loved another. She must not forget, because a man such
as Norris certainly did not lack for willing bed partners. She would not join the
ranks of his mistresses.

Even if she did dream of the man.

***

Dunrobin Castle, Sutherland

“Is there anything else ye desire, me laird?”

The serving girl was pretty, and she had curves in all the places Norris liked women
to have them. Her dress was open enough to allow him a generous view of her breasts.

“Nae.”

Disappointment flashed across her face, her gaze sweeping his chest before she picked
up his empty mug and placed it on her serving tray. When she turned around, he was
treated to a view of her backside as she descended the four steps leading down from
the high-table landing to the floor of the great hall.

Yes, definitely curves in all the right places, and she moved with a sultry motion
that should have sent heat through his veins. But his cock lay slack and uninterested
beneath his kilt. He reached for the fresh mug of ale the serving lass had delivered
but didn’t lift it to his lips. This was becoming tiresome—exceedingly so.

He scanned the hall, catching the smiles of other lasses all watching him to see if
he would summon them forward. There were dark-haired ones and blondes, even a redhead,
but none of them sparked even a twitch from his cock. The thing had been useless for
nearly three months.

“I’m growing worried about ye, me boy.”

There was only one man who would call him boy and not get smashed in the face for
it. Norris stood as his father appeared from the archway that led to his private study
that was hidden behind the raised floor at the end of the great hall. Norris had helped
outfit the room to give his father a sanctuary when he needed a few moments of rest.
It would never do for the Highland earl to appear fatigued in front of his clan. The
chamber had become the earl’s favorite for business, but Norris did wonder if part
of the appeal was being able to sneak up on his son.

Lytge Sutherland walked straight to his chair, even if he did it slowly. Norris didn’t
sit until his father was settled in the huge, ornately carved chair set at the center
of the high table. Even so late at night, they showed respect to each other, for there
were many watching.

“Ye have naught to worry about, Father.”

Lytge reached for the mug of ale Norris had left untasted and drew off a long draught.
He nodded then set it down. “Nonsense. Ye have nae been the same since returning from
Sauchieburn.” His father settled against the high back of the chair. “I went to so
much trouble to secure ye that royal-blooded bride. Ye allowed her to ride out of
here wearing the colors of the MacNicols.”

“She was in love with Broen MacNicols…”

Lytge stroked his beard. “Ah yes. The same reason young Daphne MacLeod used to explain
why she did nae wed Broen MacNicols as her father arranged. Ye seem to have helped
Broen twice in the matter: once by taking Daphne to yer bed so she could be disgraced,
and again when ye allowed yer own bride to escape the consummation of yer union.”

Norris reached for the mug and took a swig. “I wondered how long it would take ye
to hear of the part I played in helping Broen out of his betrothal with Daphne.”

His father grinned, as arrogant as any man half his age, but his hair was completely
gray now. “I’ve known, boy. Everything ye do is important to me.”

There were men who would have bristled, but Norris returned his father’s grin. “Sometimes
helping out a friend is a pleasant duty.”

His sire’s eyebrows rose. “I imagine it was a fine bit of fun to help Daphne MacLeod
lose her virtue so her betrothal might be broken, but what did ye gain from it? What
did ye bring home to yer clan, me boy?”

Norris felt the bite of his father’s displeasure. It was there, glittering in the
older man’s eyes. What made it sting was that his father wasn’t railing at him. The
subtle stab was more wounding than a raised voice rich with insults, because his father
was speaking to him like the future leader of the clan. A laird never forgot to weigh
the benefits of any situation.

“Securing the loyalty of Laird MacNicols is worthy of note,” Norris offered.

His father nodded. “Aye, it is.”

“And Clarrisa may have been royal-blooded, but she did nae come with a dowry,” Norris
finished.

“True enough. But blood has its worth. Why do ye think I keep Gahan near? He’s me
bastard, and Sutherland blood is valuable. Yer bride may have cost me, but she was
a York bastard, and yer offspring would have been kin to the King of England.” His
father tilted his head to one side and returned to stroking his beard. “The MacLeod
lass, according to Gahan, she’s a fair sight to behold.”

“A fact she despises.”

His father chuckled. “That’s her youth blinding her. Time will steal her beauty soon
enough. Ye learn that by my age. Best to enjoy what ye have when ye have it. I hear
ye did that well enough when the lass was in yer keeping.”

She’d been passionate too. Norris looked toward the hearth and signaled one of the
serving girls forward to avoid having his father witness the flare of excitement that
went through him. Daphne had blonde hair but dark eyes, which fascinated him. When
he locked gazes with her, he had the sudden feeling he might lose himself in those
dark orbs and be shielded from all life’s travails. He’d never been one to shirk his
duty, but he would not deny how tempting it was to seek her out again and lose himself
in her enchanting embrace until dawn broke the spell.

“Gahan seems to have had a great deal to tell ye,” Norris groused.

“As I said, he has his uses, and being the head of yer retainers is one of them,”
Lytge stated. “But he is nae the only source of information I have. In fact, Daphne
MacLeod is the subject of interest at many a table in the Highlands. The rumor is
that the lass has a fortune for a dowry, one nae discovered when the MacLeod land
was raided by those clans who claimed victory at Sauchieburn.”

“Who raided her lands?” Norris demanded.

“Comyn, Campbell, Lindsey. Does it matter? Her father fought on the losing side, and
those who backed the young king took their pay out of the lands of those clans who
did nae make so wise a choice.”

Rage heated up inside Norris. It turned white-hot before becoming a rapid boil.

“Why do ye care, Son?”

His father was astute and too keen for Norris’s mood. The serving girl delivered another
mug of ale, and he lifted it to his lips. “It does nae matter.”

“A fortune for a dowry matters. I hear her father had a bastard, and the man is set
to inherit the MacLeod lairdship. Being wed to his only sister would be a good alliance.”
Lytge leaned forward and lowered his voice. “If there is a fortune involved, that
is.”

Norris sat up, the idea immediately taking root in his head. He realized he shouldn’t,
but still he couldn’t seem to squash the urge to see Daphne again. No, he wanted to
let that urge loose and follow it.

“Perhaps I’ll ride out and see if it’s true.”

His father grinned. “And ye think she’ll tell ye? Do nae be thinking one night between
her thighs will endear her to ye.”

His cock was hardening. His temper rose along with the organ. Still, he stood. Becoming
a slave to his impulses was dangerous, but the opportunity was simply too tempting
to ignore. He winked at his father. “Then maybe I’ll have to charm me way into her
bed again.”

***

“I do nae take orders from ye.”

Daphne MacLeod had heard the same from more than one of her father’s retainers. She
sweetened her expression, fighting back the urge to call the man a fool.

“I am suggesting ye recognize the logic in helping me round up the sheep before they
stray too close to Comyn land. Their wool will be one of the few things we can harvest
this season.”

Keith MacLeod frowned. “Better that ye should have used those honey-coated looks on
Broen MacNicols. If ye had wed him, we’d nae have suffered being raided after the
battle of Sauchieburn. If ye were the wife of another Highland laird, no one would
have dared even to think about taking what was ours.”

“My father stood on the defeated side,” Daphne argued, dropping all hints of sweetness.
“We’d have been raided, have no doubt. My actions had naught to do with that.”

“But we’d have a strong ally to protect us. One that might have made some of the smaller
clans think twice before trifling with us. The MacNicols are vassals of Sutherland.”

“So are we.” Daphne lifted her head, drawing her back straight and glaring at the
men standing before her. “I believe we are strong, and I will go after the sheep myself.
I am not afraid, nor am I content to sit here and pity me plight. We were raided and
have lost much—all the more reason to make sure we lose no more.”

She turned her back on Keith. She could feel him and his men staring at her, but she
never faltered. Her cousins were still seated at the tables that filled the great
hall. All three of them claimed they were the rightful heir to the MacLeod lairdship,
and they were using their blood ties to her father to spend the day doing nothing
of value. She passed them, but not without shooting them a hard look. They might label
her many things, but they would not call her a coward.

Gitta waited where the great hall ended and the hallway began.

“Ye are nae endearing yerself to the men.”

Daphne didn’t slow her pace. “If they cannae see the need for us to work together
to pull in enough of a harvest to survive the coming winter, I have no time for them.
Arrogance and pride will nae fill bellies. Me brother is nae here. I am.”

Winter would close in on them too soon. Most of the seed grain had been stolen, and
what fields were planted had been trampled. Some of the young plants were recovering,
but time had been lost, and the yield would not be great.

“Ye should nae go riding. What if ye’re carrying?” Gitta whispered, panting from the
exertion of keeping up with her.

“I am nae with child.” However, Daphne did slow her pace, and her cheeks heated with
shame for making the older woman rush.

“Ye’ve nae bled,” Gitta insisted. “A Sutherland bastard would give us an alliance—a
great one, if it were a son. The Sutherlands keep their blood close.” Gitta looked
at Daphne’s belly, reaching out to smooth the fabric of her skirt flat.

Daphne flinched, jumping back a step. “Enough. If I am with child, it will nae be
a matter to worry about for many months. Today our sheep are happily on their way
off our land with their winter coats still on their backs. We need that wool to buy
seed for next year. I will return soon.” She left Gitta at the tower steps and stalked
toward the stable.

She couldn’t think about a possible child. Norris Sutherland was wed. The news had
traveled quickly. What bothered her most was how upset she was to know he was bound
to another woman. Hadn’t she suffered enough at the expense of fate? Everything she’d
done had been for the right reasons. If she were shallow or greedy she’d happily have
wed Broen MacNicols without a care for the fact that he was fighting with his best
friend over her, or that when he discovered her still alive, the man was in love with
another woman. Oh no, she would not have cared one bit how unhappy he was in their
marriage. Legally, the man had been bound to wed her.