Three#2

“I never thought to see the day,” Bhaic remarked.

Symon Grant was standing next to him as the Robertsons and MacPhersons celebrated in joyful excess. Full hogsheads of ale were opened and drained. Men lined up to have their mugs filled and then returned for another measure. As the ale flowed, the men began to swing the women up and around. They practiced the art of hefting, by throwing the women from man to man along a long line. The women squealed, and their eyes sparkled with merriment.

“Neither did I,” Symon responded. “But ye were jealous of the little lass dancing with Lye Rob and no mistake, me friend. I saw it with me own eyes.”

Bhaic sent a punch into Symon’s shoulder. “I was nae speaking of that.”

“Still trying to deny it?”

“Ye’re making too much of it,” Bhaic informed him.

“Now that’s a shame,” Symon responded, a smirk on his lips.

Bhaic shot him a hard look. “No, it is nae.”

Symon’s smirk widened into a smile, tempting Bhaic to punch him again.

“It’s a shame, because it looks as though ye will be taking yer wife home, and it might be best if the two of ye liked each other. But”—he glanced around—“it looks as if young Ailis has escaped ye, so it’s likely a fine thing that ye were nae jealous. Otherwise, ye might take her absence as a personal rejection.”

Bhaic stiffened. He scanned the women, searching for Ailis.

Damn her.

All the good she’d done would be reduced to rubble if she didn’t appear at his side when his father’s men mounted up to ride home.

The little fool.

He refused to allow her to destroy what had been built. The bridge between their fathers was fragile, but with time, it would strengthen.

So his wife would just have to become accustomed to his company.

* * *

She just needed a moment.

Ailis moved back into the forest, seeking shelter.

It wasn’t something she had decided to do; it was some instinct that flickered to life as she watched the celebration grow louder and louder.

Nothing came from nothing. Her father had raised her to know there was a price for everything. Her throat felt as if it was swelling shut—she was the price being paid for peace. Not that it should surprise her. She would be joining a long line of brides sent to their clans’ enemies to stop bloodshed. It was a noble cause, one she agreed with. But that didn’t stop her from feeling like a prize mare.

Ye’ll feel more like one when Bhaic gets the time to mount ye.

The worst part of that was the knowledge that she was just as interested as he was.

Oh, for Christ’s sake! Get a grip on yerself! What are ye? A lass of sixteen?

That thought sobered her. She was twenty-three and obviously ready to become a woman.

She drew in a deep breath and straightened her back. She was going back. Aye, back to keep the bargain she’d struck.

“Ye do nae have to go with him.”

For a moment, she thought she imagined the words. But she turned her head and caught Lye Rob coming through the forest.

“I was planning to try me hand at courting ye, but it seems I am going to have to move forward to asking ye to wed me, Ailis Robertson.”

“I am already wed.” The words felt clumsy, but she held her chin steady.

Lye Rob shrugged, his lips set into a pleasant grin. “Me father has no liking for the MacPhersons. He’s made it plain he would favor a match with ye. Do nae be so naive as to think this bit of peace will be lasting. The Robertsons and MacPhersons have been enemies for too long. Once the ale has been slept off, they will be fighting again. If ye wed me, the Robertsons and Gordons will have the numbers to match the MacPhersons.”

It was a horrifying thought, packed with enough truth to nauseate her. Her choices were clear, and she had to make the right one. “I am going with me husband.”

His expression remained cajoling, but something flickered in his eyes that chilled her. It was cold and hard and very calculating. There was a crunch behind him, and she noticed his retainers moving closer. She took a step back, and Lye Rob’s grin faded into a hard line.

“Come with me, and I swear ye shall have time to consider me offer.” He offered her his hand. “If ye go with Bhaic MacPherson, ye’ll be in his bed tonight.”

“Ye’ve got a clever way of twisting words, Lye Rob Gordon.”

Bhaic’s voice was menacing and coming from right behind her. Ailis jumped, but he’d already reached for her, and she ran into his hand. Pain went through her shoulder, stopping her retort.

“Ye say time to consider,” Bhaic said, “but what ye truly mean is ye will give her until ye reach yer father’s holding.”

Lye Rob shrugged. “I did nae lie.”

Bhaic gripped her shoulder and pulled her behind him. She stumbled. Lye Rob was focused on Bhaic, his men guarding his back.

“Mind ye,” Lye Rob said, “I’m glad to see ye. Wedding a widow is simpler than proving her marriage to ye is unconsummated.” He pulled a dirk from the top of his boot. “It will save me the trouble of making sure someone sees me fucking her.”

Her eyes rounded with horror. “Ye toad!”

The calculating glow in his eyes burned brightly. He tossed the knife from hand to hand as he closed the distance between himself and Bhaic.

“Get to yer father’s side, Ailis,” Bhaic said.

“But—”

“Now,” he ordered sternly.

He was a man accustomed to being obeyed. She backed up, but stopped when she realized they were surrounded by Gordon retainers. More had closed in behind them while Lye Rob distracted them. She bent down and picked up a branch—a thick, heavy one—and gripped it as if it were a club.

Lye Rob laughed, looking past Bhaic at her. “Do ye think ye can hurt me?”

Ailis didn’t get the chance to reply. Bhaic took advantage of Lye Rob’s inattention and charged. Bhaic had his arms open wide and got them around Lye Rob’s chest. He surged up, lifting the other man off his feet, and twisted around to drop him on the ground.

Lye Rob snarled, but Bhaic had his arms locked around his throat. His arms bulged as a muscle on the side of his jaw twitched. Lye Rob thrashed, desperately trying to gain enough leverage to upset Bhaic.

The Gordon retainer near them lifted his arm to join the fight. Ailis never really decided what she was going to do, but she leaped forward, the branch lifted over her head. She brought it down on the retainer’s raised arm. The shock shook her bones and made her elbows ache, but she carried through with the blow.

The retainer yelled, his scream startling several birds above them.

“Not man enough to take me on yer own, Lye Rob?” Bhaic swung him away but pulled the knife from his hand. “Ye’re a coward, and yer men lack honor.”

Ailis moved in a circle, two burly retainers stalking her. They had their arms stretched out wide, their stances low. She had to keep shifting her gaze from one to the other to keep the branch aimed at them.

“Kill Bhaic MacPherson, and the prize is ours, lads!” Lye Rob yelled as he lunged toward Bhaic.

The retainers made a grab for her, but she swung the branch in a wide arc and hit one of them on the side of the face. He twisted around and landed on the forest floor in an unconscious heap.

Lye Rob let out a hoarse cry, and she turned to see him cradling his arm. His wrist was bent at an odd angle, clearly broken.

“Now this is an interesting scene.” Symon Grant appeared beside her. He lifted one foot and kicked the retainer still threatening her in the groin. “I almost do nae have the heart to interrupt. It seems fitting to have Gordon cowards brought low by a woman.”

The woods were suddenly full of men. Symon’s retainers and Bhaic’s came through the forest, their expressions deadly.

Lye Rob turned and ran, his kilt bouncing until he was hidden from sight by the trees. His men followed, and Bhaic grabbed the branch Ailis was still holding in front of her. He tossed it aside and pulled her against his body.

“Ye could have screamed, lass, but I admit, I think I enjoyed yer response more.” He pressed a hard kiss against her mouth to the delight of his men.

“Come, me lads, it’s time to head for home. I have a bride to settle.”

He clasped her wrist and pulled her along behind him. Her feet felt clumsy, but the weight of his men’s stares were on her. Lye Rob was right about the peace being a fragile one. She forced a smile onto her lips and picked up her feet so Bhaic wasn’t dragging her.

It was obviously the last May Day where she’d be wearing her hair down. Her gaze settled on the wide expanse of Bhaic’s shoulders and then down to where his fingers closed all the way around her wrist.

God help her.

* * *

“Me boy, ye need to stop going off as ye please,” Shamus MacPherson admonished his son. “Ye’re me son, and as sure as the Blessed Mother was pure, there are men who would like to send ye home to me dead.”

“No doubt that’s why ye gave him a captain,” Symon supplied with a wink.

Bhaic’s eyes narrowed, and he tugged Ailis closer. “There are times a little privacy is in order.”

Ailis watched Shamus MacPherson look at her. Really look at her. His face was wrinkled from the harsh climate of the Highlands. His beard had gone completely white, but his eyes were still the same brilliant shade of ocean blue. Just like his son’s.

“Aye, I suppose I can understand that.” He was the last man she’d ever expected a compliment from. Yet it was there, in the twinkle in his eyes. He lifted a hand and waved her off. “Go on and bid farewell to yer father.”

She lowered herself, placing one foot behind her and bending the knee to give him deference.

She heard his captains making soft sounds of approval. Some of them were stroking their beards in contemplation as she rose. Gaining respect from them would not be simple.

Bhaic stepped into her path.

“Ye’ll be watched this time, Ailis.”

His tone was low enough to stay between them, but there was no mistaking the rage. If she did miss it, all she had to do was look into his eyes to see the anger glittering there.

The man was furious with her.

And she was going home with him.

May Day was the worst day ever to look for a husband.

* * *

“Ye scared her away,” Symon observed. “Nae exactly a good way to preserve the peace.”

“She was off in the woods with Lye Rob.”

Symon crossed his arms over his chest. “Ye know, it’s a fine good thing ye are nae jealous of the lass.”

Bhaic growled and shoved his friend, but Symon only rocked back on his heels, regaining his balance with a smirk. “Ye’re so busy being mad at the facts that have landed her in yer hand, ye have forgotten to look at what a pretty little treat she is.”

“Shut yer mouth, Symon.”

Symon raised one finger instead. “On second thought…”

“The devil take ye,” Bhaic said. “I’ve got a fine memory. Mark me words, yer day is coming, me friend. The day when a lass twists yer insides with naught more than a look.”

His friend sobered. “It’s that intense?”

The disbelief in his friend’s tone was only a fraction of what Bhaic felt. He looked at Ailis, his gaze running along the length of blond hair cascading down her back. She had a pert nose and twin dimples in her cheeks. But it was her curves that made him ache the worst. His cock began to stiffen again, hardening enough to press against the heavy wool of his kilt. The damned thing had risen too quickly and too often at the sight of Ailis.

Of course, she was his wife.

That fact made his lust far less unseemly, at least in theory.

But the application was going to be tricky.

His lips twitched.

He tried to fend off his amusement. There really were too many complications waiting for them if they tried to make a go of their marriage.

But all he wanted to do was grin at the jest fate was dealing him. All of his adult life, he’d been told chasing skirts was a sin. Now he had a wife, one the church would agree was his for the taking, but she was the only woman in the Highlands he had no business craving.

His enemy’s daughter.

The ghosts of his grandfather and great-grandfather were no doubt planning a nighttime appearance to let him know what they thought about him bringing a Robertson bride home.

Even the thought of the specters wasn’t enough to cool his passion.

But all the passion in the Highlands didn’t make for a good marriage.

* * *

“I’m drunk,” Liam Robertson declared.

Ailis studied her father for a moment. “No, ye are nae,” she corrected him gently. “Ye never drink so much that yer wits desert ye.”

Her father sniffed, a guilty flush darkening his complexion. “Well now, Daughter, ye do know me well. The times have been few, and only yer brothers were present.”

“How would ye know?” Ailis questioned. “If yer wits were dulled, how would ye recall the number of times?”

Her father puffed up. “Because of Highlander honor!”

“Aye, honor.” The word left a sour taste in her mouth. She would be upholding the family honor in a far different way.

Her father sighed. “Are ye sure ye want to do this, lass? It’s true I planned to decide the matter of yer future soon, but I would nae see ye frightened of yer groom.”

“I am nae frightened of Bhaic.”

At least not completely scared of the man.

That would have to do.

Her father raised one of his gray brows. “Bhaic, is it?” He frowned. “I’m nae so sure I like the way that name crosses yer lips so easily.”

She felt her own face darkening, and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “We are wed.”

“No, ye aren’t,” her father stated firmly. “Words uttered by a servant of God do nae make ye wed. Nae in the Highland tradition. Ye be married, I agree with that, but to be wed, the union must be consummated.”

There was a question in her father’s tone, which the answer to might set her free, but it would also start the fighting again.

“Ye would have chosen a groom for me based on alliances.”

“Aye,” her father agreed.

Ailis looked past her father at the men who were still enjoying the newly forged peace. “MacPherson and Robertson retainers at ease in one another’s company, it’s a fine alliance.”

But it also reminded her of just how little she factored into the arrangement. Bhaic didn’t value her, only what she brought to his clan.

As if that’s anything new when it comes to marriages…

It wasn’t, and she needed to stop thinking like a child. A laird’s daughter kept her mind on what she might do for her clan.

Ailis nodded.

“Ye look as though ye are trying to convince yerself, Daughter.”

She resisted the urge to shrug and stood steady. “It is the first time I’ve had to face such an arrangement, and it is a bit…sudden. I will do just fine.”

It was also intense, the way Bhaic affected her.

“Aye, it is sudden,” her father agreed and hugged her tight.

His embrace was a familiar one, and it almost broke her control. But she managed a smile when he released her and turned around to face her future.

The sight of two MacPherson retainers behind her made her pause.

“You’ll be watched…”

Of course she would be. The peace was too new, too fragile to chance her being scooped up by a rival clan.

Highlanders.

She was one of them, proud of who she was, but for the moment, she was sick unto death of their feuding ways.

But her feelings were irrelevant. She was the vessel used to secure peace.

So she would have to play her part.

She was a Robertson, and she was no coward.

* * *

MacPherson Castle.

Ailis stared at the dark stone structure, absorbing the reality of seeing something no one else in her clan ever had. It had towers that rose four stories, and at least four of them, from what she could see. It was perched on the edge of a peninsula that jutted out into a huge loch. The dark water surrounded the structure on three sides, making it rather ominous.

They rode through the village in front of the entrance to the castle. People came out of their homes to see the laird returning, but they glared. The dress she’d been so excited to wear to the festival this morning felt revealing, her unbound hair some sort of sin.

A few of the clansmen leaned over and spit when she passed, the scowls on their faces making their position clear.

She bit her lower lip and forced her chin level.

Her mare felt her discontentment, pulling on her reins and trying to refuse to follow the line of MacPherson retainers. Ailis reached down and patted her neck gently, wishing it would be so easy for someone to reassure her.

The memory of Bhaic kissing her neck surfaced.

But that only served to unsettle her more.

By the time they reached the gate, her heart was racing. Her lungs were working hard to keep pace. Her mare carried her beneath the huge gates into a massive keep at the center of the castle. Women were spilling out of its huge double doors, calling out to the returning men. Children clung to their mothers’ skirts, older ones coming down some of the steps as Shamus and his captains happily smiled and began to dismount.

The cries suddenly died away. Shamus looked up at the women, trying to deduce what had deflated their joy. He followed their stares to Ailis.

“Aye,” he said as he climbed up the steps of the keep. “Me son’s wife. Ailis Robertson.”

That seemed to be the extent of the welcome he could manage. Her name drew more than one hiss. She slid down from her mare and ended up facing a young lad, maybe ten years old. He was one of a small army of boys who had rushed out to take the horses. He stared, his jaw hanging open and his hands frozen in midair on the way to take the mare’s reins.

“Here now.” Bhaic suddenly appeared, thumping the boy on the back. “It’s a horse, lad. I’m pretty sure horses do nae have clans. Get on with yer duties.”

The boy jumped, his cheeks darkening with the reprimand before he grabbed the reins and led the mare away.

It left her facing Bhaic. He’d hooked his hands into his belt and stood contemplating her. Around them, activity stopped, everyone waiting to see what would happen.

Well, at least she was not the only one trying to decide what to make of their union.

He offered her his hand. There was naught to do but take it; still, she felt as if every muscle she had was frozen. The tension around them tightened. She forced herself to move, lifting her hand and placing it into his waiting one.

The connection of their flesh made her shudder.

He turned and led her through the frozen ranks of retainers and up the stairs of the keep. The women parted, but what turned her stomach was the way they pulled their children behind them.

“This is Duana, me father’s Head of House. She’ll see to ye.”

Duana wasn’t pleased with her assignment. The older woman was plump, and surely her features could be called kindly. At least when she wasn’t scowling.

Bhaic gave her only a short nod before moving away down one of the passageways with the rest of his father’s captains.

Which left her facing Duana.

The woman’s lips were pressed into a hard line. She had dark eyes, and dark hair peeked out from beneath the linen cap she wore. Her apron had several spots on it, and the scent of fresh bread clung to her skirts, but that was the extent of welcome coming from her.

“God save me,” Duana uttered, but the heavens were silent, leaving her staring at Ailis. “Come along,” Duana said with a jerk of her head. She didn’t wait for a reply but turned and started down a passageway. The sun was sinking, making the passageways dark. No one had lit the lanterns hanging every so often from large iron hooks.

Ailis shivered.

It was a silly, childish response. Robertson Castle looked very much the same at twilight. Yet tonight, it felt as though the darkness was creeping up the walls from the shadows to engulf her.

“This will do ye well enough.”

Duana fit a key from the large ring that hung from her belt into a door and turned it. Ailis tried to control the urge to gag.

The door had a lock on the outside of the room?

Her mind was racing, jumping to conclusions that were horrifying. The Head of House grunted when the lock opened. “Go on with ye. I’ve supper to see to getting served.”

Duana was gone with a grumble.

At least she wasn’t going to be locked into the room.

Stop being childish.

The door had stopped half-open. She pushed it open and saw nothing but darkness. There wasn’t a window in the room at all. The air was musty from the door being closed. Moving inside, Ailis used the little light left in the passageway to investigate her surroundings.

It was a modest room, to say the least. The reason for the lock became clear as she looked at one side of the room and saw a long worktable there. On it were stored several boxes and lengths of fabric. She moved over to it, smiling when she spotted a small pewter plate with a pile of dry thatch on it. Lying on the edge of the plate was a flint and a length of iron. A half-burned candle was there as well.

Ailis picked up the flint and struck it. Sparks flew, dropping down into the tinder. She blew softly on it until a taper of smoke rose and at last a flame. She held the candle to it, smiling when it lit.

“That’s better.”

Her voice echoed around the room, if she could really even call it a room.

Well, do nae call it a cell…

No, that would only clear the way for her resolve to crumble. And honestly, that was all she had. So holding tight was essential.

On the other side of the room…

She smiled and walked across the bare stones that covered the floor to where a bed frame sat. Rope was threaded through it to support a pallet.

Better than a hard cot…

Better?

She snorted. There was nothing better about the entire room.

And she wasn’t going to stomach it.

But when she turned, her hair fluttered like a wave. That stopped her. If she wanted to be taken seriously, she’d need to look the part. At the moment, she looked like a half-grown child. Certainly not the new mistress. Little wonder the Head of House thought it a simple matter to humble her in such a way.

Well, Ailis would just have to set her mind to showing Duana that she was woman enough to take her place.

She went back to the table and opened the boxes. One held an assortment of sewing tools. Tiny silver needles that she couldn’t help but admire. There was also a fine pair of cutting shears that had been recently sharpened. More than five dozen pins and an entire box of fancy silk threads for embroidery.

Little wonder the room was locked.

The fabric was all linens. Lightweight, thicker ones, but all of it intended for shirts and chemises. There was a box that had all the scraps folded neatly inside, to be made up into caps or used for patching.

She opened another box and smiled when she spied a comb and small mirror. There were hairpins too, and several cosmetics. Ailis ended up unrolling the pallet and sitting down on it, because the only other item in the room was a stool she perched the mirror on. Her hair was tangled from being down all day. It took some time to work the comb through it and braid it.

By the time she’d finished, her temper had cooled. She replaced the items and sat down on the bed to think. It was all well and good to march into the kitchens and demand her place. Bhaic could hardly blame her.

Or would he?

Honestly, she knew very little about him. What did he want from their marriage?

Peace?

Aye. That was their common ground, yet it was a very undefined thing. Clearly Duana didn’t think very highly of her presence. No, she would have to think hard and long about how she was going to approach winning the respect of the MacPhersons. Demanding her place was her right, but such would be expected.

Far better to earn her place. It would take time and resolve.

She giggled, rolling back onto the pallet as she dissolved into a fit of laughter. Never, ever had she thought she’d be contemplating how to impress MacPhersons!

God had a very funny sense of humor, it seemed.