The Highlander's Bride Trouble (3 page)

Baruch slowly smiled. “And ye’ve cleverly made it so she is the one who has caged
herself. Well played, Laird. Even a spitfire cannae claim ye forced her inside that
gate.”

“She will not,” Saer confirmed. “Nareen Grant will notice exactly what I did. She
is no simpleton.”

Baruch let out a low whistle. “Careful, Laird, a spitfire is often more trouble than
she’s worth. Once the passion cools, ye’ll be stuck with a harpy for a wife. One that
will have the care of yer daughters.”

“Or I might just have found a woman who is nae afraid of me.”

Which was what he truly craved. Now that he was Laird, there were offers of brides,
but he didn’t have the stomach for a shivering woman in his bed. His father’s bride
had been one of those, a daughter offered up by her father, and white as a ghost on
the day of her wedding. His father had turned to Saer’s mother for passion when the
years went by and his noble wife never warmed toward him.

Saer wanted nothing to do with a marriage like that.

Nareen trembled, but she also spat at him. What he really wanted to know was would
she reach for him once she surrendered to passion?

It was a gamble, one that carried a large risk. Saer wasn’t blind to the facts. But
he also couldn’t ignore the way Nareen blushed for him. Her cheeks had been hot, even
in the cold night air, just as they’d been when he’d encountered her at court.

Every moment they’d shared was branded into his memory. If he was given to superstition,
he’d suspect her of casting spells. Court ladies had reputations for bewitching men
with their wiles.

He grinned, the burn of a challenge warming him. If Nareen had enchanted him, he was
going to make sure she suffered the same fate.

“Where are ye going, Laird?” Baruch inquired.

“To introduce meself to the Earl of Ross,” Saer answered without looking over his
shoulder. “It would be terribly rude of me to cross his land and nae clasp his hand.
Such an action might start rumors about me lack of social graces.”

“Well now, we wouldn’t be wanting that,” Baruch agreed as he followed his laird toward
the castle. “But ye know, ye do nae have to spend the night inside the fortress. The
summer night is fine.”

“Aye.” Saer continued toward the gate.

Baruch snorted behind him and abandoned further argument. “She’s under yer skin,”
he groused instead.

“Perhaps.” Saer ignored the temptation to wait until morning to enter the castle.
There was one thing he disliked more than being surrounded by stone walls, and that
was ignoring a challenge. “Since I plan to claim her, it matters not.”

“Aye,” Baruch answered.

Whether or not Nareen was teasing him was not the reason he moved closer to her refuge.
He wanted to know why she invaded his dreams. He’d stand in her path until she faced
him. The answer would be revealed only when she stopped running.

***

Saer MacLeod blended with the night. Where other men braved the darkness, Saer was
comfortable in its velvet embrace. It was enticing, alluring in a way that was sure
to be wrong. How could it be anything else when it sent such a rush of heat through
her?

Nareen jerked awake, disoriented as she tried to disengage her mind from her dream.

The image of Saer MacLeod didn’t fade quickly or easily. It lingered, keeping her
from waking up completely. She saw his dark stare, probing her eyes and forcing her
to acknowledge him.

She kicked her bedding aside and sat up.

She would ignore the man.

The sun was rising, and she could hear the bells calling the inhabitants of the inner
castle to morning Mass. She reached for her stockings and pushed her feet into them.
Now that the summer was fully upon them, she lamented being forced to wear so many
layers. But there were standards to be maintained.

Next she pulled her boots on and worked a lace around the antler-horn buttons sewn
along the sides, knotting the laces in place. When she stood, her chemise fluttered
to her calves. It was creased from sleeping in it, but no one would see the lack of
ironing. Not that she had time for such vanity anymore.

Nareen reached for her simple wool skirt and lifted it over her head, using a tie
to belt it at her waist. Her bodice was unfussy, with boning sewn into it instead
of a separate corset, and it opened up the front. Nareen threaded a lace through the
eyelets and tugged it tightly closed. The stiff front supported her breasts. Her sleeves
attached to her bodice and were also simple in design.

There had been a time when she had been the mistress. Dressing took more time when
there were more layers. Like underskirts and overskirts, inner sleeves and outer sleeves
all decorated with trim and lace. She did not miss it.

Well, perhaps she missed her silk gowns from time to time. But not enough to return
to her father’s house.

A stab of regret pierced her heart as she brushed the tangles from her hair. Her father
had not been in his right mind for many years. He’d begun losing his grip on facts,
and it had only grown worse. He was Laird of the Grants, but her brother, Kael, had
kept him above stairs to keep his illness from being known. As his daughter, she should
be there to tend to him. But to do so, she’d have to return to where her brother was
master.

Her brother had sent her to Ruth. Even if she believed Kael had done so believing
Ruth would instruct her on how to run a large estate, Nareen couldn’t stomach the
idea of being beneath a roof where he ruled. So she stayed as Abigail’s companion.

She braided her hair and grabbed a linen cap before hurrying out of the chamber. At
least she didn’t have to sleep in Abigail’s private chambers. Many personal companions
did. But Abigail was at her nastiest at sunrise, so she allowed her kinswomen to dress
her in the morning because she didn’t want Nareen to leave her service. Abigail was
wise enough to know Nareen had somewhere to go if she became displeased in her position.
So she gave concessions, such as a private place to sleep and a stall for her mare.

Yes, a good agreement.

So why was she so full of discontentment this morning?

Saer MacLeod.

Nareen pushed her lips into a pout. The man was arrogant and presumptuous, so why
did he continue to fascinate her so much that he invaded her dreams?

Perhaps she was better off not knowing the answer to that question. She’d decided
she would not wed, so it was best to avoid thinking about men at all.

The inner yard was full of maids and retainers making their way to the small chapel
inside the castle. Off in the distance, she could hear the bell tolling in the village
church. The gate was lowered and barred, with only a few retainers remaining on the
walls to keep watch. Everyone else made their way inside for the morning devotion.

The priest had already begun the first prayers. She dipped her fingers into the holy
water, making the sign of the cross over herself as she hurried to find a place in
the congregation. The other Ross serving girls shifted to make room for her. She was
just feeling relieved, when she looked at the front of the chapel.

Saer MacLeod stood there, his dark gaze on her instead of on the altar.

She froze, and someone bumped into her. Saer’s lips twitched as she stumbled and half
fell into one of the back pews. The priest turned around and caught her staring slack-jawed
at Saer MacLeod.

The retainers manning the gate shouldn’t have allowed him inside during the night.

She bit her lip as she realized how something she counted as a benefit also worked
to allow Saer to torment her. Granting shelter to other clans was common. When the
man in question was a new laird, and there was an unmarried daughter in the Ross family,
offering him hospitality just might have rewards for both clans.

Abigail was staring at the priest, completely ignoring Saer. There was a pinched look
to her lips that Nareen recognized. Her mistress was not pleased at all.

The moment the last prayer finished, Abigail jerked her skirt up and headed down the
main aisle. The rest of the Rosses held still, making way for her.

“There ye are at last,” Abigail grumbled.

Nareen fell into step behind her as Abigail made her way through the double doors
of the chapel and into the dark entryway. Two passages led to smaller workrooms built
alongside the main chapel, that were used by the priests as they worked on manuscripts—places
of peace and quiet. But Abigail felt none of those things. She scowled at Nareen,
her eyes bright with anger, and jerked her head toward one of the workrooms. Nareen
followed, her cheeks reddening, because the Rosses were standing behind their mistress
and watching the entire exchange. At least deeper in the stone passageway, she was
able to hear the congregation making their way out of the sanctuary.

“I thought I told ye back at court to make sure that savage MacLeod stopped looking
at ye.” Abigail sent her a stern look. “He’s followed ye here.”

“I doubt that,” Nareen responded firmly. “No unwed laird needs to chase women. Most
of the daughters in the Highlands are plotting on how to get him to wed them.”

Abigail didn’t care for how easily Nareen spoke her mind, but she put up with it because
she didn’t want one of her own clanswomen tending to her. They would tell her father
anything he asked. Their loyalty was to the clan first.

“Then why is he here?” Abigail demanded.

“It is summer,” Nareen offered. “It’s likely the man is traveling on business.”

Her cheeks heated as she recalled Saer’s words from the night before. Abigail didn’t
miss the bright color.

“Did ye sneak out to be with him last eve?”

There was a glimmer of excitement in Abigail’s eyes as she rolled her lower lip with
her teeth. The raw lust was shocking, but it also brought back the odd twisting feeling
in Nareen’s belly. She could not lust for Saer MacLeod.

Or any man. But most especially not him.

Abigail was still watching her. She let out a little sigh. “So ye like the savage
ones.”

“I do nae,” Nareen defended herself.

Abigail let out a husky, knowledgeable laugh. “Ye’re virgin.”

“Of course I am.”

Abigail wasn’t impressed. The woman looked at Nareen like she was a babe in need of
instruction.

Abigail shrugged. “Even the Holy Mother Mary rid herself of virginity. Ye’ll see what
a nuisance it is once ye grow up enough to stop worrying that God will strike ye down
for enjoying yer own body. I am impressed, though. I suppose ye chose to become me
servant to avoid being sold by yer cousin. Ruth did know how to please her customers.
Some men like virgins above all else. She’d have gotten quite a tidy sum for ye with
those plump tits ye have. I had two offers for ye last Season at court. Don’t be foolish
with the savage. He’ll give ye nothing for yer maidenhead.” Abigail offered her a
sly smile. “Let me arrange a liaison at court for ye, and we’ll share the gold.”

Nareen was struck dumb. Abigail turned and headed toward the center of the church
again. She moved confidently through the sanctuary and out the front doors without
a hint of remorse for her torrid words, spoken so boldly in the very house of the
Lord.

She’d known.

Known what Ruth planned and had not offered help until Nareen reached out to her.
For the first time, Nareen realized it might not be so good an arrangement for her.
Abigail had much in common with Ruth, it seemed.

“It appears ye have nae escaped from yer cousin Ruth’s plans for ye.” Saer MacLeod
spoke from behind her, his tone low and edged with anger. Every muscle in Nareen’s
body drew tight.

“Abigail Ross is no better a mistress for ye,” he said grimly. “Ye’ll leave with me
at dawn.”

Nareen drew herself up and locked gazes with him. “I’ll be going nowhere with ye.
Serving the Ross is me choice.”

Even if she now doubted how safe she was. But she wouldn’t be reaching to Saer MacLeod
for help. No, she’d fend for herself.

She made to walk away, but Saer stepped into her path. For so large a man, he moved
quickly.

“Ye need counsel, Nareen. I’ve been in the country for only two years, and I know
of Abigail’s reputation. She was very serious, lass,” he offered gravely.

Nareen shook her head. “I will simply make it clear that I want none of it.” But she
didn’t care for how little confidence she had in her own words.

Saer was no fool and heard the way her voice faltered.

“She feeds only her desires. Her clan could have benefited from her marriage. Instead
of doing her duty to her kin, she cannae wait to begin planning new schemes.”

There was no way to ignore the truth of his words.

“I know she’s selfish,” Nareen confessed, “but she will nae sell me without me consent.”

“Do nae be so sure,” he warned.

She didn’t care for the sense of vulnerability his words unleashed. It raced through
her, threatening to undermine her confidence. “Abigail is pleased with me, and I with
her. She will nae jeopardize our arrangement.”

She hoped.

Nareen tried to go around him, but he lifted his arm and pressed his hand flat against
the wall next to her head, blocking her way. Heads turned their way as the rest of
the congregation passed by on their way back to their duties. Yet no one interfered.

He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Are ye certain?”

She shivered, the reaction instant and uncontrollable.

“Ye should nae be, lass,” he said. “Nae a single Ross will even stop to ensure ye
are well. They have left ye here to deal with me on yer own.”

“They have no reason to think ye would harm me,” Nareen snapped.

“It should cross one of their minds to make certain I am nae as savage as me reputation.”

“Ye are twisting things to favor yer opinion that I should leave with ye,” she countered.
“I will nae be changing me mind about me feelings for ye.”

She propped her hand onto her hip, and his eyes narrowed. His expression gave her
no hint to his thoughts, but her knees weakened as anticipation twisted her.