The Highlander's Bride Trouble (9 page)

In that moment, she was helpless.

But what made it intolerable was the fact that she had allowed him to reduce her to
such a state. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow herself to be so exposed.

“I will never trust ye.”

He growled at her, but she pushed against him.

“Ye just did, Nareen.” His teeth were bared, and his cock hard against her belly.
“There is no denying that ye enjoyed it, too. Pleasure awaits ye in me bed.”

He pushed himself up and off her. The night air rushed in to steal the heat his body
had shared with her. He reached down and grasped her biceps, easily pulling her to
her feet.

“But ye’ll never truly trust me if I take ye tonight. Allowing me to touch ye was
but a beginning.”

He found her chemise and tossed it to her. He truly was at home in the dark, because
she hadn’t been able to differentiate between her garments. Saer found what she needed
first before pulling his shirt off a rock and shrugging into it.

Her fingers shook, but it wasn’t from the chill. It took her three tries to get her
hands pushed into the sleeves of the garment. When it slid into place, she found Saer
watching her. His shirt did little to disguise the hunger that was pulsing through
him.

It was tormenting her as well. Twisting and clawing at her insides like a living force
with its own will. She craved something more, something deeper, and she was old enough
to know it was his cock deep inside her.

“I cannae be…give ye what ye want…” She was stammering, her emotions a breath away
from boiling over. “Ye should seek another.”

“It is ye I crave.”

His tone was firm and full of promise. She shook her head, but he only tossed her
skirt to her before he turned and pulled his kilt from the ground and started pleating
it on the top of a rock. She busied herself with putting her skirt on and kept her
gaze away from his.

He was so confident, it grated on her nerves. To his way of thinking, it was all decided,
but it couldn’t be. She had to make it clear to him.

“I refuse any arrangement with ye, Laird MacLeod.”

She heard a soft crunch of gravel before he cupped her chin and raised her face.

“Yer brother has already agreed to me suit,” he admitted.

“Then why toy with me this way? To torment me with how little choice I have?”

He shook his head, the moonlight illuminating a frown. “I came to prove me worth to
ye. Once we are on MacLeod land, I will nae be able to allow ye so much freedom. I
have demands on me time, and they are numerous.”

The breath froze in her chest. It was far more than he had to give her, yet it was
everything she’d feared. “I am nae going to MacLeod land.”

She jerked away from him, hurrying over to grab her bodice and put it on. But she
felt his gaze on her and couldn’t hide from the truth that she was acting the coward.
Even if it was his pride talking, there was a sense of honor in him she could not
dismiss.

“I belong to meself.” She steadied herself and looked back at him. “Ye’ve proven me
flesh is weak, but me will is strong. I will nae trust any man. Such is a weakness,
and I’ve found me salvation in strength.” Her voice was close to pleading. “Ye need
to understand, Saer, I know me nature and would nae have ye disappointed.”

His lips parted to show his teeth. She wouldn’t call it a grin, because the expression
was far more primal. She felt it down to her toes.

“Which is what makes ye such a prize, Nareen. One I plan to claim. Our sons will have
that strength in them, and I will never have to worry that ye fear me. I want no unproven
lass birthing me babes. Ye’ll give them yer spirit and raise them to face what life
brings without flinching.” He offered her his hand. “Come home with me…let us see
what else we have in common…trust takes time to grow, give it a chance.”

It was tempting.

Her body yearned for it, craved his in a way she could not understand. But the look
in his eyes made her deny it. He was so certain of his effect on her. So sure of his
ability to give her what she needed.

She couldn’t admit how correct he was. It was submission. Admission of defeat. She
would not do it.

Ever.

“I am going back to the castle.”

He grunted. “To Abigail?”

She nodded, defeated by her own doubts.

“Why?” he demanded.

She drew in a long, deep breath and tasted bitter defeat. What lay between them were
her own failings. “Because I will nae submit to yer will, Saer.”

He folded his arms over his chest and contemplated her. He finally made a noise that
was part frustration, part admiration. “I never thought I’d be pleased to hear ye
sticking to yer position, yet I find the idea of submission from ye distasteful.”

He gathered their horses, leaving her grateful he didn’t see the tear that escaped
her eye. She’d made her choice and must accept the result.

He was accepting it at last.

She should have been pleased.

Yet she was not.

***

“Ye were out quite late last eve.”

Nareen wasn’t in the mood to deal with Abigail, but her mistress smiled and drew her
fingers under her own eyes before looking at the dark circles beneath Nareen’s eyes
knowingly.

“Aye, I went riding.”

“One of the stable lads told me Saer MacLeod followed ye.” Abigail looked around to
make sure no one else was close enough to overhear. “Did ye let him have ye?”

Nareen felt her cheeks heat. “Nae.”

“Oh do nae be such a prude. I hear ye kissed him back in the chapel.” Abigail smiled
slyly. “The blush staining yer cheeks says he kissed ye again last night.”

“It does nae matter,” Nareen said, dismissing the topic, “since ye shall be returning
to court soon. Saer MacLeod has no liking for court.”

Abigail refused to be silenced. “I’ve had one or two like him.” She leaned closer
and licked her lower lip. “There is something very pleasing about their hard bodies
when they are riding ye. Even their arrogance can be enjoyed, since ye know ye do
nae have to suffer it forever, like a wife.”

Nareen grabbed a gown and took it to the wardrobe to get her out of Abigail’s range.
Her mistress laughed softly and brought the matching underskirt along.

“Maybe ye should let him rid ye of yer maidenhead. No one thinks ye have it anymore
anyway,” Abigail whispered. “So there is no need to deny yerself.”

Oh, there was a need, but there was no way to explain it to her shallow mistress.
Truthfully, she’d have to understand it completely herself, and when it came to Saer,
Nareen was discovering a great deal of confusion. And frustration. And need.

Someone knocked on the outer chamber door.

“At last!” Abigail exclaimed with glee. One of the maids in the outer chamber opened
the door.

Two Ross retainers pulled on the corner of their caps before turning and lifting a
trunk. They carried it inside and set it down. Once they’d deposited it, they left,
their kilts swinging behind them. Another pair followed with a second trunk, and then
a third and fourth.

“We are going to pack, Nareen,” Abigail declared. “I am returning to court immediately,
now that me father has agreed.”

It should have pleased her. Instead, Nareen discovered disappointment clawing at her.
There was no sense in her feelings; however, at least that was something familiar.
When it came to Saer MacLeod, her emotions had no sense either.

“I cannae wait to be back at court.”

Abigail sounded like a girl. She hummed a little tune as she twirled around and around
in circles. The silk dress she adored rose up as she danced, showing off her stockings
with their embroidery. It was a waste to wear such costly things in her private chambers,
but Abigail refused to be practical.

“I am going to me father’s steward before me sire rises,” Abigail announced. “I must
have silver for new gowns and other comforts.”

She skipped away, leaving Nareen and the maids to pack.

Saer had said it plainly and truthfully. Not that Nareen needed him to tell her what
she already knew.

She shivered, recalling even the deep timbre of his voice.

There was no denying she had enjoyed it. In fact, she’d woken up with a hunger in
her passage for something deeper.

Nareen froze, her thoughts bothering her.

Why would she wish to deny it? There would be only one reason, and that would be to
argue with Saer. To quarrel simply for the sake of winning, no matter the truth of
the matter, was foolish. And childish.

It was a good question, one she wanted to know the answer to herself.

Saer MacLeod would be there, in the shadows. She was sure of it.

A ripple of sensation moved down her back, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

“What should we do?”

One of the maids had spoken up. She and her companion were always banished to the
receiving chamber when Abigail was present. Even now, they stood at the arched doorway
that separated the receiving chamber from the dressing area. Another doorway behind
Nareen led to the bedchamber. Abigail certainly liked to maintain herself in noble
style and insisted that she have servants for each area. Nareen was the only one who
might cross all three doorways without permission.

Pretentious.

“Come in, let us fill this trunk before she returns and makes simple tasks difficult.”

The two Ross women smiled knowingly, indulging themselves by showing their emotions
since Abigail wasn’t there to reprimand them. Nareen fit a key into the locks on the
wardrobes and opened them wide. There was the rustle of silk as underskirts and overskirts
were lifted and folded carefully. Elaborately decorated headdresses were gently tucked
inside of wooden boxes made especially for them, then placed into the trunks. Nareen
busied herself with making sure all the smaller items necessary to a wardrobe were
not left behind.

Things like chemises and stockings. Shoes and jewelry. She included veils and even
hawking gauntlets, along with making sure a travel writing desk was well stocked with
parchment, quills, and ink.

She knew what was needed, because she had been raised to know how to dress to represent
her family. But she had never made her possessions so important. Abigail was quick
to slap if any of her precious silk was marred. All of the maids tried to stay out
of their mistress’s reach. Nareen was the only one Abigail held her hand with. Likely
because she was afraid Nareen would slap her right back. Such actions would get her
dismissed, but Nareen had a home to go to.

She didn’t want to be like Abigail, but she knew she was hiding behind her mistress.
It was a hard truth, but one she needed to thank Saer for forcing her to see. No matter
how frustrating she found his presence, she had to acknowledge the good he meant.

It was time to leave Abigail’s service. The decision felt good, relieving some of
the uncertainty that had been lingering in her thoughts. But that left her with the
choice of where to go.

Saer’s offer rose in her memory.

She had to stifle a dry laugh behind her hand before the other maids turned to investigate.
Nareen didn’t need them seeing her bright cheeks.

Why did she blush for a man who was nowhere near? She wasn’t really sure she wanted
to know the answer. But she had to face the fact that Saer fascinated her. In mind
and body, but when she was close to him, all she wanted to do was feed her fascination
with his body. Was she wanton? Possibly. The Church certainly warned that women who
cast off submissiveness became prey to all forms of sinfulness. But she didn’t feel
shame over it. She’d felt a great many things the night before, but the only time
shame had risen to torment her was when Saer pointed out that she was hiding. That
was cowardly.

She drew in a deep breath. There would be no more hiding. She was a Grant and born
of Highlander stock. She would follow Abigail back to court and find her father’s
envoy there to arrange escort home. And she would make sure her brother knew there
would be no matches for her.

For a moment, she lamented the invitation she’d declined from Saer. It would haunt
her, that opportunity she had refused to take. But there was nothing left to do about
it.

Saer MacLeod was not a man to forgive such a slight.

She did not expect to see him again.

***

“I insist,” the Earl of Ross said with a flourish of his hand. “And do nae be looking
at me as though hearing those words are akin to being challenged to a death match.
I was yer age once too, lad, and remember the burn of pride very well. No man such
as ye enjoys being told an old man wants his company for the day.”

Saer choked out a single chuckle in response.

The earl grinned. “Yet, I think it will be in yer favor. Ye see, I heard ye are building
up yer land.”

“Aye,” Saer confirmed. “The MacLeod suffered being raided after me sire rode with
the king at Sauchieburn.” His voice hardened. “It will nae happen again.”

“A worthy reason to be spending yer coin on building.” The earl gestured at his retainers
to pull his chair out, cringing as they did so. “Me knees complain bitterly these
days. Wine soothes the pain, but I want to show ye me quarry, which means I must leave
the wine for later.”

He made his way slowly down the steps until he stood next to Saer. “I lost the will
to build when me sweet wife died.” For a moment, he was lost in his memories.

“Yet ye have an active stone quarry?” Saer asked to gain the man’s attention again.

The earl stiffened. “Aye. Aye! Ye see, there are men working there who are the sons
of men who served me father. So ye see, I could nae cut off their wages. Now I know
ye have stone aplenty, but I have a stockpile of stones that are cut and ready to
be laid. Is that something ye’d like to see?”

“It is indeed.”

“Exactly what I thought ye might say and why I wanted to demand yer attention today.”
The earl chuckled. “I sell off the cut stone to balance the books, but it has been
a while since I had me a customer. They are just stacked up, waiting.”