Three

Three

May Day was one of those few days when clan rivalry was abandoned. At the crossroads of the MacPherson, Robertson, Grant, and Gordon lands, merchants arrived to set up their stalls. There were metalworkers, cloth sellers, and leather craftsmen. The time when a castle produced everything for itself was passing into the pages of history. Now, there were merchants who made their living by bringing exotic fruits inland from the ports. Even so early in spring, there were oranges and pomegranates brought by ship from Spain. There were spices brought in from faraway lands.

The merchants were joined by jugglers and musicians. The air was festive, and the four clans mixed freely, their animosity displayed only in games of strength. Instead of wielding swords against one another, they tossed cabers—long poles as big as trees—and tried to get them to flip end over end.

Ailis brushed out her hair and put on a wreath of spring greens to celebrate the new season. Many girls had risen at dawn to wash their faces in the morning dew to ensure their youthful beauty. More than one young maiden had celebrated spring with more than dew.

She hadn’t, because she was a laird’s daughter and expected to remain a virgin until she wed, so she wasn’t allowed to join the other girls in the predawn hours. At least she was able to go to the fair every year. The rest of the castle inhabitants had to take turns, because it would never do for the castle to be left empty.

But for some girls, taking a lover on May Day was a way to decide upon a husband. Ailis envied them the opportunity to make sure they would have no unpleasant surprises on their wedding nights.

She’d certainly had a shock on hers.

Ailis shook her head. She would not think of Bhaic MacPherson or her wedding night. She was not married. But only because she hadn’t been bedded.

She shivered, but she honestly wasn’t sure if it was caused by revulsion or excitement.

Yes, ye do know.

Heat teased her cheeks as she admitted it was excitement. She had enjoyed his kiss. It would be a lie not to admit that she had also wondered what else she might enjoy.

Which was why she wandered out into the fair, smiling at the men who passed. It was time to apply her attention to getting some offers she was actually interested in receiving.

* * *

“Ye’re a beast of a man, Bhaic MacPherson,” Symon Grant shouted across the green where they had been tossing cabers. Bhaic smirked and bent his arms at the elbows to show off his muscles. His chest was bare, sweat trickling down his abdomen.

Symon closed the distance and offered him a slap on the back. “Damned lucky too. I thought I had ye on that last toss.”

“Almost,” Bhaic admitted.

“Which is nae enough, so ye can buy me some ale.”

Bhaic chuckled and bowed. The winner bought the ale. He scooped up his shirt, but didn’t put it on as they walked toward the food merchants. There were Robertson retainers sitting nearby, but they only cut him and his men stiff glances.

Bhaic gestured his captain forward. The merchant’s eyes lit up as Bhaic counted out the silver. The man snapped his fingers at the serving wenches, and they began to bring out frothy-topped wooden mugs.

Bhaic drew off a long swallow and grinned. The men surrounding him raised their tankards high, toasting him before they tasted the brew.

But he lost focus, his gaze settling on the cloud of blond hair floating around the shoulders of Ailis Robertson. There was a happy smile on her lips as she spun around and around in a dance. She laughed when she reached the end of the row and picked up her skirts to run back to the beginning of the set.

“Now there is something interesting,” Symon remarked as he stood beside Bhaic. “Is nae that yer wife?”

“Maybe.”

Symon cut him a somber look. “Marriage is nae one of those things ye say maybe about.”

“In this case, it’s true.”

Symon drew off another sip of ale. “I suppose that accounts for why Lye Rob Gordon is dancing with her so openly, and her with her hair down. So a wedding but no’ a bedding? Was that the way of it? And ye’re happy to have it known by one and all?”

Bhaic felt his body stiffen. There was more than one man looking at him. The news of his wedding had traveled fast. People gathering around the dancers, pointing at Ailis and her unbound hair.

A tradition that only applied to maidens.

It was a public declaration of the truth of their union. Lye Rob Grant was making a bold statement by dancing with her for all to see. Ailis had on a different dress today, one that left no doubt she was a woman. It had a square neckline, and her plump breasts were clearly on display. Lye Rob looked at them often, reaching out to cup her slim waist every time the steps of the dance allowed him. Bhaic felt his nostrils flare, a surge of possessiveness filling him.

She belonged to him.

It wasn’t about facts or words spoken in a holy place. It was a feeling rooted deep inside him, that place where he still recalled what she smelled and tasted like. A recognition that had taken root in the darkest hours of the night, when she had shattered his control like he was an untried lad.

Lye Rob pulled her close and tried to kiss her.

Bhaic abandoned his ale and went after what he truly craved.

* * *

Ailis laughed and shook her head.

“Do nae leave me now, lass!” Lye Rob pleaded.

She shook her head again, her heart racing too fast for her to draw enough breath to answer him. She backed away from the couples dancing, lifting her chin so the breeze might cool her neck. She did not want his kiss.

It was disappointing, because she wanted to find a man who stirred her the way Bhaic had. But it was clear it wasn’t Lye Rob. He was fun to dance with, and his brown eyes were warm, but they did not excite her.

Not like Bhaic.

She turned around, and her skirts spun up. Cool air teased her ankles and calves before the fabric settled.

“Are ye enjoying putting the horns of a cuckold on me head?”

She stared at Bhaic in stunned silence, wondering if she’d conjured him with her daydreaming. But the men at his back confirmed that she was not locked in another memory of their wedding night. “I’m nae doing anything of the sort.”

He snorted and reached out to finger her hair. She jumped, the single touch setting off a reaction that rippled throughout her entire body.

“Unbound hair is the right of a maiden.”

The truth of his words rolled through her, stunning her at just how foolishly she’d betrayed the facts of her unconsummated vows.

“It’s so nice of ye to make sure everyone knows.” He jerked his head to get her to look beyond him. People were standing three and four deep, many of them whispering as they looked at her.

“She was dancing with me,” Lye Rob interrupted.

Bhaic turned on him with a soft growl. “Unless ye’re a fool, ye know she’s wed to me.”

Her temper flared up, the public declaration feeling like a collar going around her neck. Perhaps she hadn’t made as clean an escape as she’d thought.

“Enough bickering,” she admonished. “’Tis May Day. Everyone is dancing.”

Bhaic was crowding Lye Rob, towering over the other man by at least a foot. Somehow, she’d missed the fact that Bhaic was bare chested.

That was a sin, to be sure.

One ye enjoy…

The man was sculpted to perfection. She’d felt the ridges of muscles on her wedding night, but seeing them let loose a whole different surge of excitement. This time, her nipples puckered behind her stays, longing for the chance to be pressed against his bare skin.

It was a red-hot craving, one that felt worse than any hunger she’d ever endured.

“There is little point in bickering,” she said.

He turned to face her. “Aye, enough is right, Ailis.”

He captured her hips and pulled her forward. She ran into his chest, raising her hands out of instinct to break her collision with him. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers, running one hand up her back to capture her head and hold her still.

The kiss was ravishing. It bore little resemblance to the tender ones he’d given her before. This time he demanded, and her will crumbled beneath the hard motions of his mouth. This was the kiss she’d truly wanted.

The crowd watching them cheered, the men roaring with approval.

Bhaic lifted his head, and she glimpsed his pleased expression right before he tossed her up and over his shoulder.

She squealed, her skirts flying as she kicked, but the crowd applauded and cheered him on.

“Put me down!”

He smacked her bottom instead.

A bolt of hot need pierced her in response. Her cheeks flamed, making her grateful no one could see her face. The sounds of the music diminished into the distance as he climbed into the forest that surrounded the crossroads.

He tossed her down the moment they were hidden from the fair.

She’d forgotten how mesmerizing he was. She wished she might forget again. But he was huge, and for some reason, she found his dark hair extremely appealing. He was a beast.

He was also virile…

“Perhaps it was a mistake to leave ye a virgin.”

Her temper sizzled, and she propped her hands on her hips. “What happened to yer notion that I was in agreement with the earl’s plot? I would think ye would be pleased to see me making it plain that I have no claim on ye. Do ye no’ feel liberated?”

Her argument hit a soft spot. He paused, his eyes narrowing.

“It does nae please me to see ye dancing with Lye Rob Gordon.”

“Since ye made it plain ye want naught to do with me, I’ll dance with whoever I please,” she informed him.

Her heart was beating fast, and he looked down at her breasts as they heaved. “Lye Rob wanted something to do with ye alright, and it had a great deal to do with the tempting display ye’ve made of yer breasts.”

His possessiveness irritated her. She felt as though he was trying to put a bridle on her, and she was not going to submit. “Ye are the one who noticed I was old enough for marriage. Ye should begin the annulment, nae spend yer time harassing me. Since ye do nae want to be me husband, ye have no right to dictate how I behave.”

He locked gazes with her. “And what do ye think the good earl will think of me annulling our union this soon, my sweet Ailis?”

“I am nae yer sweet.”

But she hadn’t really thought about what would happen when the earl found out she was back beneath her father’s roof.

“I asked ye to stay.” His tone had deepened, hinting at his true feelings.

She lowered her arms, no longer feeling the need to face off with him. “Ye did, but ye spent far more time accusing me of plotting to chain ye to me.”

His lips curled up, flashing his white teeth. “So, ye are here to prove ye can get a man on yer own?”

She didn’t care for how right he was. “Ye do nae need to know me private feelings, Bhaic MacPherson. Men are no’ the only ones with pride. I would like to think I could do better than having a man forced to wed me.”

He chuckled, surprising her as his eyes danced with merriment.

“We’re more alike than I would have thought.” There was something flickering in his eyes, which looked a lot like understanding. “Me pride was stinging the night of our wedding, no mistake. I said a few things I should nae have.”

A sharp giggle interrupted them, coming through the trees. A moment later, a girl appeared. She was looking back over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling with mischief and her bodice loose, allowing her breasts to fall and bounce with her motions. A man chased after her, drawing up when he saw Bhaic. He let out a whistle, and the girl turned to see them in front of her. She flashed them a saucy smile before diving off into the forest with her companion on her heels.

Ailis’s cheeks flamed. “Sweet Christ, everyone is going to think ye carried me off to…to…”

“To ravish ye?” he supplied with a mocking grin.

She propped her hands on her hips again. “Ye have no right! I am nae your wife.”

The words were spoken before she realized she was challenging him. She witnessed it flash through his blue eyes before his lips thinned.

“Do nae let yer pride become involved again.”

He shook his head. “Ye are something worth being proud of, Ailis.” His gaze lowered to her cleavage. “A woman of character.” His lips suddenly curved into a rakish grin. “Ye’re a fine-looking woman too.”

“And a Robertson.”

His eyes narrowed. “Aye. Ye’re that. Yet, as ye brought to my attention, yer blood has advantages.”

There was a promise in his tone now, one that made her shiver. The urge to flee filled her again, but her pride rebelled. She didn’t want him to label her a coward.

If she ran, there would be no doubt she was scared of him.

She had to admit to being curious as to what might happen if she stayed.

But that left her facing him, watching him move closer, each step increasing the intensity of the moment. All of her senses felt keener, sharper. Time itself felt frozen, the seconds feeling like hours in which she was able to notice all the tiny details she might have normally missed.

He reached out and stroked her cheek. It was such a simple touch, but her senses were so heightened, she wasn’t sure she could have endured anything else. The moment his skin connected with hers, sensation exploded inside her. She jumped, unable to contain it all.

“As I said, Ailis, there is passion between us.” He wasn’t mocking her any longer. His tone was deep and almost compassionate. It sounded as if he were just as bewildered as she.

He reached back and slid his hand along the side of her jaw. Her breath caught as delight spread across her skin. She was mesmerized, intoxicated by him. He didn’t stop until he’d threaded his fingers into her hair. The gentleness of the touch transformed into a firm hold that kept her steady as he took the last step between them.

“Ye smell sweet.” He didn’t kiss her, but leaned down and inhaled her scent. “Touch me, Ailis. I see the desire in yer eyes.”

He’d stopped with just inches between them. Her breath was rapid, drawing in the scent of his skin as she felt his body heat teasing the bare skin of her chest. Temptation was drawing her in.

She was reaching for him before she could think about it. His words rang in her ears, combining with the need churning inside her. His skin was smooth, beckoning her.

He drew in a sharp breath when she touched him. The response stunned her but quickly transformed into confidence.

She wielded the same power over him.

It was a prideful thought, but one that filled her with boldness. She flattened her hands against his chest, unleashing a surge of excitement inside herself.

It was astonishing and exhilarating.

“Look at me.” His tone was harder, more demanding.

She lifted her chin, locking gazes with him, and felt as though he could see right into her soul.

“Now kiss me.”

“Me?” Her tone was so breathless, she wasn’t sure he heard her.

But he did, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Aye.” He massaged her head, sending little ripples of delight across her scalp. “Kiss me. Reach for what ye crave, Ailis.”

She hesitated, not sure if she wanted to crave him. It was a demanding word, but it suited the feelings swirling inside her too well. She slid her hands up his chest, savoring the feel of his skin beneath her palms and fingertips. Kissing him was harder than she’d thought it might be. She’d kissed him back, but now, she had to stretch up, and even on her toes she wasn’t tall enough. So she slid her hands along the strong column of his neck and gently pulled him toward her.

He bent down, allowing her to press her lips against his. She trembled, the sensations overwhelming. She felt as if she were spinning around, but didn’t really care if she dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

All that mattered was kissing him.

She craved the taste of his mouth and moved her lips against his. Her grip wasn’t firm enough, so she reached up to lock her fingers behind his neck, trying to secure him, control him.

He groaned, using his hands to tilt her head so their lips met together more completely. He was losing patience, his mouth beginning to move against hers. But she wanted to kiss him. The urge pounded through her, overriding everything else.

She tried to remember how he’d kissed her, moving her lips in what she thought was the right way. She increased the pressure and opened her mouth.

He growled and took command. There was no missing the moment when he stopped allowing her free rein. The kiss he pressed on her wiped all thoughts aside as delight took over. It didn’t matter how they kissed, only that they did. She felt as though she might perish if she didn’t get a deeper taste of him.

He teased her lips, tasting them before sweeping across her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. She shivered again, the touch more intimate than anything she’d ever experienced. It set off a throbbing between the folds of her sex.

She pulled back, startled by the hunger gnawing at her insides. She understood with shocking clarity that she wanted him deep inside her. So carnal. So blunt.

“Do nae be alarmed, I’ll nae ravish ye, Ailis.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” She snapped her mouth shut when she realized she’d spoken aloud. “I did nae mean that!”

He cupped her chin and made her look into his eyes. They were ablaze with hunger, mirroring the yearning burning inside her.

“Ye did,” he assured her. “Ye simply do nae know how to enjoy it yet.”

He scooped her up, stunning her with his strength. He controlled it so well, it was simple to forget how strong he was.

That knowledge made her tremble. He lowered her to the forest floor, the scent of grass rising up, wrapping her in the moment of new growth.

“It is going to be me pleasure to teach ye, Ailis.”

“But…the annulment…”

He settled beside her and bent one of his knees so he might place it over her thigh. She thrust her hands out to keep him back, but once again, the feeling of his firm chest distracted her from everything else.

It simply felt so right. The sensation was intoxicating.

“Are ye enjoying me touch?”

He leaned down and kissed her throat, the soft pressing of his lips taking her further into bliss. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she stretched her chin up to expose more of her neck.

“Honestly, lass, ye do nae want me to stop any more than I want to.” His words were a whisper against her ear.

It was so tempting to just let him do as he pleased.

It felt so good.

Nothing had ever felt so intense before.

The knot of her bodice loosened. She opened her eyes, but he’d pulled the lace through the first few eyelets before she turned to look at his face.

His expression sent a shudder through her.

“Ye are more than comely, lass.”

She blushed.

His lips curved into a possessive grin. It was presumptuous, but it also made her feel attractive in a way she never had before.

He pulled the lace through a few more eyelets, until he could open her bodice. She was in her simplest dress, one that didn’t have a set of long stays behind the bodice. The only thing shielding her breasts was the thin linen of her chemise. Excitement twisted through her. She felt pinned to the spot, caught in the moment as she waited to see what he’d do next.

What was the next step? She wanted to know.

Now.

“Ye have no doubt haunted the dreams of more than one man.” He cupped one breast through her chemise, sending a bolt of excitement into her core.

She twisted, the sensation too great. “No…no one thinks about…me…parts.”

She was trying to think, because it gave her stability. Bhaic brushed his thumb across her nipple and shattered every last bit of conscious thought she had.

“I do,” he whispered next to her ear. “I think about ye more than I like. I have never been jealous of a man like I was just now of Lye Rob.”

He lifted his head and let her see his eyes. They were full of possessiveness.

“I was just dancing.”

Bhaic slid his hand beneath her chemise, his fingertips teasing the skin between her breasts and setting off an ache to be touched in both mounds.

“Nae, lass, he was getting close to ye because he wanted to do exactly what I am doing now.” He cupped her breast, closing his fingers around one tender mound as victory shown in his expression.

“I would nae have let him…touch me.”

He massaged the globe of her breast, setting off a renewed throbbing at the top of her sex. It was harder now, more insistent. Keeping her thighs together felt awkward and uncomfortable, so she let herself relax.

“But ye’ll welcome me.”

“I—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. Bhaic leaned down and licked her nipple. It had already puckered but drew tighter as she arched up to offer it to him. A soft moan escaped her lips, the sound renewing the blush stinging her cheeks.

“It gets better, lass.”

He cupped her breast, holding the soft mound still before closing his lips around the puckered tip.

She cried out this time, the heat from his mouth flowing down to the apex of her thighs. Something was throbbing incessantly, making her lift her hips in a quest.

He sucked harder on the point and slid his other hand across her belly. Her passage gave a desperate twist as she reached for him and held him to her breast. She wasn’t close enough. Wasn’t pressed against him tightly enough.

Her damned dress was too heavy against her legs.

“So sweet…” He kissed his way to her other breast and teased her with soft licks along its side before he claimed the nipple. She arched and lifted her hips. He slid his hand lower across her belly, grabbing a handful of her skirts and jerking it up.

She sighed as cool air reached her legs. It was invigorating, and she reached for him, no longer content to just be touched. She wanted to stroke him too.

Ailis flattened a foot on the ground and used her leg to push her body up. She rolled into him, pushing him back as she sought out one of his flat nipples. She licked it, purring as she tasted a faint salty tang left behind from his sweat.

He rolled back, letting her have her way, and it filled her with confidence.

“That’s it, lass, ravish me in return.”

“I will.”

She wasn’t sure why she sounded so bold. She kissed one of the ridges on his chest and then another. He gathered up her hair when it settled around them and pulled it out of her way. Teasing motions were no longer enough.

He slid his hand along her thigh, lifting her skirts higher. She was too hot, but the contact between their flesh felt perfect.

She reached for his neck, purring as she detected the steady throb of his pulse beneath the soft skin. He was strength incarnate, yet smooth and soft too.

It felt as though she was made to fit against him. She wanted to melt until she fused with him completely.

Her skirt went flying above her waist. One powerful motion of his wrist had sent it up to bare her lower body.

She gasped, startled by the sense of vulnerability sweeping through her. It conflicted with the sweet intoxication holding her hostage.

Bhaic didn’t let her senses recover. He cupped the side of her face and leaned over her, the heat from his body pushing aside her modesty. He kissed her, restoring her to the perfection of the moment. She pushed her hands through his hair, delighting in the feeling of the threads sliding between her fingers. There were so many tiny details she had never thought might be so enjoyable. Little things she did every day, but when Bhaic did them, sensation surged through her. She was sinking deeper and eager to experience more.

Bhaic didn’t disappoint her. He settled his hand on her thigh again, his grip possessive but filling her with a sense of satisfaction.

It also unleashed a sense of anticipation that left her breathless.

Remaining still was impossible. She reached for him, boldly seeking out what she craved. His thighs were just as hard as his chest, the muscles clearly defined and covered in more smooth, hot skin.

“I swear I’ve never enjoyed a woman’s hands on me like I do yers.”

The admission was torn from him in a harsh tone. She detected the protest from his pride and found companionship in it.

At least she was not alone in the madness.

She slid her hand higher, seeking what she’d only had a teasing glimpse of on their wedding night. She was frustrated by that fact, irritated that she didn’t yet understand completely what it was she craved.

She was empty and wanted to know what he had to fill her.

Someone cleared their throat.

Someone male.

Bhaic growled but gathered up her chemise and covered her breasts while shielding her with his body.

“Go to hell, Symon.”

The tone of his voice cut through the intoxication dimming her wits. It was like waking up from a dream, and her body protested the return to reality. She wasn’t ready to come back yet.

“I figured ye might say something like that.”

Ailis looked past Bhaic to see a huge man wearing the Grant colors in his kilt. He was looking away from them, but her cheeks burned with shame all the same. She scrambled to push her skirts down and sit up.

“Someone better be dying,” Bhaic warned as he pushed to his feet with remarkable ease. He reached down to hook her upper arm and lift her.

The man’s strength was amazing.

“So who’s dying?” Bhaic demanded, his frustration plain.

“Yer father and hers,” Symon responded as he turned to face them. “It seems they are trying to kill each other over the pair of ye disappearing into the woods for a tryst.”

“We were nae—” She stopped when Symon’s gaze lowered to her open bodice. Bhaic reached out and cupped her shoulder to turn her away from his friend’s view.

“Cover yerself, Ailis, and do nae deny what is plain.”

She grasped the ends of the tie that had closed her bodice and shot Bhaic a hard look.

But what she saw stopped her. His blue eyes were lit with a hunger that fascinated her almost as much as it frightened her.

She turned around before he read the fear on her face. He was so confident, so full of determination, she didn’t want him to witness her reaction.

She could not give him that power over her.

But her hands shook as she tried to thread the lace through the eyelets to close her bodice. The fact that both men were waiting while she adjusted her breasts sent her temper sizzling.

Her breasts were no man’s concern.

But ye enjoyed what Bhaic did with them, sure enough.

She yanked on the lace and tied a firm knot. It took another few moments for her to adjust herself before she was fit to turn around.

Symon’s topaz eyes were brimming with amusement when she met them.

Bhaic slapped him on the shoulder. “Now what was the urgent need that sent ye after us?”

“Well now, there are urgent needs and urgent needs, it would seem.”

Bhaic growled, earning a smirk from Symon. But the man pointed at the fair they’d left behind. “Yer father claims she enticed ye into the woods—”

“I did nae—” Ailis said.

Bhaic reached out and curled a hand around her face to cover her mouth. In one swift motion she was trapped against his side, his fingers smothering her retort.

Symon nearly choked on his laughter. Ailis lifted her foot and kicked him in the shin.

He yelped and jumped back, out of her range.

“Feisty,” Symon observed before shrugging. “And her father is demanding satisfaction for the slight of labeling his daughter a harlot. The pair of goats are fixing to ruin May Day with a melee.”

Ailis bent her knees and twisted free of Bhaic’s hold. “They loathe each other. We have to stop them.”

She grabbed the front of her skirts and began running.

“Ailis!”

She froze, Bhaic’s tone ringing with authority. It sent a shiver down her back—she understood now just what gave him the fierce reputation she’d heard about near the hearth during the winter months.

“Ye’ll stay away from the fighting.” He was shrugging into his doublet.

He passed by her, moving with purpose toward the edge of the forest. The longer length of his kilt in the back swayed with his motions as Symon joined him, forming a wall she was stuck behind. Their longer strides made her run to keep up.

But the quiet beyond the forest made her double her efforts.

The musicians had stopped playing, some of the merchants quickly pulled their wares off the counters of their booths. Women were herding the children away from the massing members of her clan and the MacPhersons.

The Grants and Gordons were doing their best to keep the two separated, but the expressions of her clansmen warned her that their tempers were short.

And not likely to last much longer.

Her father pointed his finger at Laird MacPherson. “Me daughter is pure! Ye’ll be taking back that insult, or I’ll beat it out of ye!”

Shamus MacPherson tossed his head back and laughed, the men behind him following their laird’s example. “Everyone saw yer daughter dancing with Lye Rob, making sure he got a good look at her ankles! Ye can nae expect me son to ignore a free tumble!”

“Ailis Robertson is me wife!”

Both lairds turned to see who was shouting. Shamus MacPherson’s face darkened when he found himself facing his son.

“And it’s May Day, the time for dancing on the green,” Bhaic said.

Liam Robertson wasn’t going to be satisfied with such an explanation. He tried to push past the Gordon retainer holding him back from Shamus MacPherson. The man let him through but closed the gap quickly to keep the Robertson captains from following their laird.

“I never agreed to this marriage!” He stormed up to Shamus and poked him in the chest. “Me daughter is too good for the likes of a MacPherson! I won’t have it!”

“But me son has already had her, and did nae see fit to keep her!” Shamus shouted. “I’ll nae stand for her weaving her spell over him because she can do no better!”

“Ye bastard!”

“Enough!” Bhaic shouldered his way between the lairds, Symon joining him. “The lass is nae part of this feud, Father.”

He tempered his tone, but his father still took offense. “She’s a Robertson!”

“I know it well, but there is a measure of wisdom in the Earl of Morton’s idea to end this fighting.”

Neither laird was willing to soften their stance, but the men behind them found it to his liking. Expressions lightened, and dirks were replaced in the tops of boots with looks of relief.

Her father glared at Bhaic. “Ye sent me girl back to me. The union is dissolved by yer actions. Ailis? We are heading home!”

It felt as if someone had stuck a dirk through her.

It shouldn’t have. Robertson Castle was her home, and she adored it, but Bhaic’s silence stung her pride and something deeper. Something she never would have considered ever feeling for a MacPherson.

But she refused to show it. If Bhaic was going to watch her leave, she would not grant him any last looks over her shoulder.

She reached down and grabbed her dress so she wouldn’t step on it. Bhaic grasped a handful of the back of her skirt and pulled her to a stop.

“I was giving her time to adjust to our union,” Bhaic said. “The earl sprang it upon us so suddenly, I thought to spare ye and her a harsh parting.”

Liam shook with rage. “Is that so?”

Bhaic nodded curtly a single time.

Her father raised his finger into the air. “Then why did yer father call me daughter a harlot? Why does yer own sire know naught of yer plan to claim yer bride?” he shouted. “Because a MacPherson does nae know how to speak the truth! They are born with lies on their lips!”

“Father!” Ailis ducked around Bhaic and pushed her father away from Shamus MacPherson. “Yer words are too harsh.”

Her sire looked at her as if she’d gone insane.

“Too harsh?” Liam demanded. “They are…MacPhersons!”

She was suddenly bearing the weight of all her clansmen. There were more than two hundred burly Highlanders leaning in to hear for themselves what she would say. The women farther up the hill edged closer and cupped their hands behind their ears. Whatever she said, it would be branded upon her forehead for the rest of her life. If blood flowed in response, it would stain her hands for certain.

She swallowed and lifted her chin.

“No child is born hating.” Brows lowered among her kin, their lips pressing into hard lines. “I detest the way the earl made his point, but he was right about one thing, we’ve all learned to hate one another over something that was done generations ago.” She lowered her voice. “Maybe it’s time to look to what sort of future we can build if we are nae consumed with the past.”

“How dare ye say such a thing!”

The two lairds had spoken simultaneously, and were now stunned into silence. They stared at each other, sticking out their chests, but neither could take back what he’d spoken. Her father started to stroke his beard, until he realized Shamus MacPherson was doing the same.

Neither was happy about having anything in common with the other, but they could not deny it.

“How nice to know ye both agree.” Symon Grant raised his voice so it might be heard by all those straining to hear. “I’ll admit that’s a surprise, but one I’m happy to witness.”

“Mind yer tone, Grant,” Shamus snarled. “Ye are too newly weaned from yer mother’s breast to be thinking ye can use that sort of voice with me.”

Symon reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet. Shamus grumbled, but turned and began conversing with his captains.

The tension dissipated, the men watching them relaxing.

Everyone except for her.

Her father’s captain had a hand on Liam’s shoulder and was talking quietly in his ear. Her father’s lips were pressed into a hard line, but she could see him beginning to relent.

That made her throat go dry.

It made sense, and would benefit all of the men and women watching, but it would mean she had to be Bhaic MacPherson’s wife.

She couldn’t do it.

The thought chilled her, sending her back, away from the men deciding her future. It was for all the right reasons, yet it horrified her.

Do nae be so selfish!

She had to maintain control, but it felt as though the tighter she closed her resolve around her emotions, the more cracks they found to escape through. The very fabric of her life was shredding, leaving her exposed and unprotected against the unknown.

Shamus MacPherson suddenly lifted his hand, and every man wearing his colors went silent. Her father looked at him, and the Robertsons followed their laird’s lead.

“I was…overly harsh…in me comments about yer daughter’s dancing.”

Shamus looked as if the words had taken every bit of strength he could muster. He drew in a huge breath when he was done, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

Ailis felt her jaw drop. She was frozen in silence as her father stiffened, looking as though he was holding his breath. His face turned red before he gasped and replied, “Yer clansmen are nae born with lies on their lips.”

The captain behind Shamus patted his laird on the shoulder, increasing his strength until there was a soft “thud” every time his hand landed on the older man’s back.

“I’m getting to it,” Shamus snapped and sent his captain a hard look before picking up his feet and stomping toward Liam with his hand extended.

Her father made him wait. His own captains were leaning into him, pressing him forward. Liam Robertson held out until he stumbled forward beneath their weight. He ended up facing Shamus and clasped his wrist.

The men watching let out a cheer. It was deafening, and echoed by the women looking on from afar. There was suddenly music, pipers sounding as the fair resumed with a fervor. The merchants applauded as her father roared, “I need me a drink, lads! And something to wash it down with!”

Ailis was sure she needed one more than anyone else.

* * *

“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.

* * *

“I’ve been lied to.”

Bhaic turned his head as his half brother sat down next to him. Marcus was older than him by six seasons and the product of a handfast that hadn’t made it to marriage. His bonnet had one black feather raised on it, proclaiming his status as War Chief.

Marcus flattened his hand on the table. “I was told there was a Robertson in this castle. A pockmarked hag, with blackened teeth and breath that could make a demon faint—”

“Ailis is nae—”

“I am no’ finished, little brother,” Marcus interrupted. “She has hair as course as straw and the shriveled mounds of a grandmother. So”—he pounded the tabletop—“where is this creature you’ve been saddled with? Ye know I enjoy watching ye suffer.”

Shamus looked down the table. “Aye…where is the lass? Did ye leave her passed out in yer bed already? She’ll have to be building up some strength if she’s going to be yer wife.” His father chuckled. “Just like me, he is! A beast with the lassies.”

The captains at the table roared. Bhaic didn’t join them. Marcus was the only one to notice, his brother’s face sobering.

“Mistress Duana,” Bhaic said.

The Head of House looked up from where she was directing two serving girls behind his father.

“Where is me wife?”

Duana’s expression tightened. “I did nae know she needed shepherding. Forgive me. Me attention was taken up by prayers for me murdered husband.”

There were grumbles in the hall from those listening in. The name Robertson was spat out.

“My marriage is about making sure there is nae any more blood spilled.” Bhaic stood up, his body tight with fury. “Now, what manner of welcome did ye give to me bride?”

Duana lost a little of her confidence, but only so far as to look somewhat less than annoyed. It was a far cry from being ashamed of her lack of attention. “I took her on down to one of the sewing cells. Making yer shirts is a fine place for a Robertson to begin life here. She has much to atone for.”

There were chuckles in response. Bhaic sent a hard look toward some of his father’s captains. They didn’t suffer his reprisal gracefully. One of them, known as Angus, spit on the floor in open protest.

“There will be no more of that.” Shamus spoke solemnly. His father glared at his captains. “She’s a lass. One doing her duty. So she’ll be given the respect such deserves.”

“If she has no’ the courage to face this hall, I say send her home before she whelps weakling babes,” Angus said.

“I apologize for being late.”

The hall went quiet. Bhaic froze as Ailis made her way down the center aisle. His father’s retainers glared at her.

Damned if she didn’t ignore them all.

Bhaic found himself watching her with pride. She made her way forward at a steady pace, stopping only when she made it to the base of the stairs that led up to the laird’s table. Her expression hardened just a tiny amount before she lowered herself.

His father grunted. “See now? There’s the lass.”

“A truly hideous hag…” Marcus muttered under his breath. “I’ll weep for yer fate.”

Ailis had put her hair up. Somehow, she looked more mature, more confident. When she made it to his side, Bhaic realized she’d used a light coating of cosmetics too. Gone was the allure of innocence that seemed to define her, and in its place was a promise of something very enticing.

The scent of a woman.

“Weep for yer own fate, Marcus,” Bhaic said softly, “for she belongs to me.”

“And they call me bastard.”

* * *

War Chief.

Ailis knew the MacPhersons had one, and the man sitting next to Bhaic had two feathers raised on the side of his bonnet, only one was black and the other white. Bhaic had two white feathers facing up on his.

The man was slightly older than Bhaic. He made way for her and the two boys bringing another chair to the long table. She sat down, feeling as if every motion she made was too clumsy or loud. Everyone was watching her, judging her.

Well, let them. She was no coward.

But getting food down her throat was going to prove rather challenging. A smattering of conversation started up, but everyone was clearly trying to hear what she said.

She looked over the hall and cringed. There had to be over three hundred retainers alone. The massive keep made sense now—it was the only place they could all break bread together. The MacPhersons were more powerful than her father ever suspected. They sat at long tables on benches, as a continuous stream of women brought food in from two passageways.

“I’ll have words with Duana about showing you to a cell.” Bhaic spoke softly, but the moment he opened his lips, the conversation died. Proving she was correct to think everyone was listening to them.

Well, she’d begin as she intended to continue.

No hint of weakness.

She replaced the goblet she’d been drinking from and offered him a smile. “Duana was very kind.”

“Kind?” Bhaic questioned. “By showing ye to a cell?”

“Aye.” Ailis shot Angus a soft smile. “She neglected to lock me in when she departed. Kind of her, as there wasn’t even a mouse in there to catch for supper.”

Bhaic stared at her for a long moment before his lips twitched. His father’s captains choked on their amusement, even as they tried to cover up their lapse with coughs. He stabbed a piece of meat on his plate with a small eating knife but paused with it in the air. “Yer sense of humor is going to serve ye well.”

Exactly what she was afraid of.

Ailis covered her moment of fear by looking over what had landed on her plate. She should have been hungry. Ravenous actually, since she’d taken to dancing on the green instead of feasting. The food looked well enough, but her appetite was missing, likely due to the lump lodged in her throat. It was growing too. But everyone was watching her, waiting for her to make some error that they might cry insult over. She reached for the bread and chewed on it. Forcing it down her throat.

Duana would not be claiming she’d insulted her fare.

Too soon, she realized she’d drained her cup. With an empty stomach, the wine was speeding its way through her body. Bhaic reached for a pitcher to refill her goblet.

“I think I’ve had enough. Thank you.”

“The lassie wants to be taken off to bed,” Angus said with just a little too much mirth. There was a gleeful note of enjoyment in his tone. He eyed her from where he sat closer to Shamus and smacked his lips. “Since ye’re no’ eating and no’ drinking…ye must be ready for yer duties.”

Her cheeks heated, but so did her temper. Angus snickered at her discomfort, while a good number of his clansmen joined in. She pushed her chair back, the feet skidding loudly.

“There is naught here that distresses me,” she said.

It was a straight-out lie.

Bhaic’s very presence distressed her.

She offered them the briefest courtesy before shooting the Head of House a hard look. “If you would be so kind as to show me the way above stairs?”

Duana nodded and dropped her what might have been a courtesy, but the Head of House’s eyes widened as she was bending her knee, and she shot straight back up, blinking for a moment in astonishment. Clearly it was a habit, but one Duana wasn’t happy to discover herself performing for a Robertson. She covered it by snapping her fingers at several of the serving women.

Ailis followed her down the steps and through a passageway opening.

“Isn’t it just like a Robertson to be taking me away from the high table during supper service?” Duana complained loudly.

One of the maids stifled a snort badly.

“If ye had shown me to me proper place to begin with, I would nae have bothered ye.”

Duana stopped and turned on her. “Do nae ye have any manners at all?”

“More than ye.” Ailis stepped right up. “For if me brother brought home a bride, I’d no’ show her to a cell.”

“Ye’re a Robertson.” Duana’s tone made her disdain clear.

“Yes, I am.” Ailis kept her tone even, because she wasn’t going to give the woman the fight she craved, only a look at just how well Ailis could stand firmly in her place.

Duana jammed her fists onto her ample hips. “Me husband died at the hands of a Robertson.”

Ailis stared at the anger flickering in the Head of House’s eyes. “A feud I am here to end.”

Duana snorted at her, sweeping her from head to toe and clearly finding her lacking.

“Did yer husband court ye?” Ailis asked.

The question caught Duana off guard. She titled her head to one side as she considered it. “Well…aye, he did.” Her lips curled into a saucy grin. “No one knows how to tickle a lass’s fancy like a MacPherson.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ailis said softly. “I was wed at gunpoint, to a man who would rather have been hanged, but took me in favor of seeing his father fitted with a noose. It tickled something inside me for certain, but it was no’ me fancy.”

The Head of House lost her poise, appearing uncertain for a long moment as the maids around them looked away to avoid making eye contact with Ailis.

“Aye,” Duana muttered, attempting to recover. “I suppose…suppose…this way.”

Ailis followed the woman up three flights of stairs. There were another two stories above that, but Duana stopped and slid a key into a door. The grating sound of the lock opening echoed down the stone stairway. She pushed the door in and revealed a sizable receiving chamber. The maids went around lighting candles and hastily pulling covers off the furniture. Two of them disappeared through an arched opening, and a moment later, the warm glow of candlelight illuminated a bedchamber.

The maids worked to dress the bed, while two more maids arrived with pitchers of water and a stack of fresh linen cloths. There was a crackle from the hearth as wood caught.

“Well now, off with that dress,” Duana said firmly. “Ye’ll need to be ready to greet yer husband if he decides to share yer bed tonight. There’s a dressing robe in the wardrobe if he sends one of his lads down for ye.”

One of the maids opened a double-door wardrobe and pulled out a thick robe. She laid it over the arm of a wooden chair.

“Thank you. I can see to myself.” She was suddenly weary. All she wanted to do was hide.

Just until she wasn’t so tired.

“Oh? And why would that be?” Duana was in the mood to stand her ground again. The three maids all looked toward her. “Have something to hide, do ye?”

All four of them lifted their chins in defiance. She might have dressed them down for it. Truly thought about it. Lord knew her temper would have enjoyed returning spite for spite.

And where would that take them all?

Ailis reached up and tugged on the tie that kept her partlet closed at her neck. It slid open easily. She unfastened her cuffs next, and then popped the knot at the front of her dress. The maids started to shift uncertainly, looking between the Head of House and Ailis as more of her clothing began to gather on the floor. She kept at it until every last bit of her skin was on display.

“Leave when ye’ve seen enough to satisfy ye.” Her tone reflected how much determination she had.

Two of the maids started to pick up the pieces of her dress in response. “I said leave. I’ll see to myself before putting a single one of ye to the trouble of suffering me.”

Eyes widened with shock; cheeks turned red. The Head of House let out a huff. “Well, see now what comes of the kindness I attempt to show ye.”

“May someone be as kind to yer daughter,” Ailis said as she gathered up her clothing to shield herself. “When circumstances turn challenging.”

Duana’s expression changed. It became grudging. “Ye’re no weakling.”

She shuffled out of the chamber a moment later. Her maids followed, closing the door behind them.

It was a sweet sound.

Ailis closed her eyes and let the soft click wash through her. The fire crackled behind her, but there wasn’t a single other sound.

Thank Christ.

She just needed a moment.

Well, perhaps more than one moment. But she’d be fine.

Ye are such a liar…

* * *

“I was wed at gunpoint, to a man who would rather have been hanged, but took me in favor of seeing his father fitted with a noose.”

Harsh words.

True words.

Bhaic hung back in the hallway, keeping to the shadows as Ailis faced off with his father’s Head of House. Duana was a buxom woman who had several inches on Ailis, but his bride wasn’t intimidated.

And cut him to the bone with her words.

They chafed because he’d always enjoyed seducing his bed partners. Any man might corner a lass, but it took cunning to draw one into the shadows for a bit of sport.

“Perhaps she’s no’ as much yers as ye think, Brother.” Marcus was hovering a few feet behind him.

Bhaic shot him a withering look. “Do nae ye have something better to do?”

His half brother smirked and shook his head.

“The devil take ye.”

Marcus chuckled, low and ominously. “I was born in sin, Brother, so I’ve never been very far from Lucifer’s reach. But”—he sobered, looking at the darkened passageway the women had gone down—“tonight I’m thankful. I’d no’ care to hear how much strife was between me and the one woman the church blessed me to have in me bed.”

“Aye.” Bhaic turned and headed back toward the hall.

“No’ going up?”

Bhaic shook his head. “The lass is correct. I’ve no’ courted her.”

Marcus reached out and caught his shoulder. “But the union is consummated?”

Bhaic looked both ways before shaking his head.

“That complicates matters.” His brother’s tone had gone hard. Marcus would always put the clan first. “Unconsummated means we’re open to reprisals.”

Bhaic shrugged. “I was nae going to prove meself the monster she’s been raised to think me, by jumping on her and demanding me rights. Besides, to be truthful, I was hoping to be free of the union. Lye Rob Gordon has complicated matters.”

“Oh…well now…” Marcus started. “She looks to be such a terrible fate.”

“Ye would no’ have cared for being forced to yer knees either, Brother. Ye’ve got yer mother’s stubborn pride.”

“Aye,” Marcus conceded. “Which is why ye’re the Tanis. The art of mediation is no’ one I’m very accomplished at. That’s a skill a laird must be willing to cultivate.”

“Aye.” Bhaic turned to go back toward the hall. Marcus stood firmly in his path.

“A Tanis must also see to securing alliances,” his brother stated firmly. “So turn around and get to it.”

“The lass and I have had enough of being told what to do,” Bhaic stated firmly. “There’s time enough for us to get to the particulars of our arrangement. I prefer me women feisty, no’ worn down by a day that has been too long.”

“Lye Rob will take advantage of that mercy, make no mistake,” Marcus warned. “Yer kindness will become a horror the lass will have to suffer if he gets his hands on her.”

“As War Chief, that is yer concern,” Bhaic shot back. “Keep the bloody Gordons off our land. So I can focus on making sure me marriage does nae form another chain in the feud, because me wife learns to hate me and all me kin.”

He only passed through the hall, going to the other set of stairs and climbing up to the fourth floor. His chamber was warm and welcoming. A fire going in the hearth and his bedding turned down, with a hint of rosemary coming from the sheets.

He ground his teeth, frustrated by the lack of welcome Ailis had received. It was his responsibility to see to her. She was his.

Well, no’ completely so.

His gaze returned to the bed.

What a welcoming sight it would be to have Ailis in it, her golden hair spread out over the creamy linen sheeting.

His cock twitched, thickening as he indulged the moment of fantasy.

There was a scratching on the door.

“Aye?”

The door was pushed in slowly, and a maid peeked in. She smiled as she noted he was halfway out of his clothing. Her gaze roamed boldly over his bare chest as her teeth appeared in her bottom lip.

“Would ye care for…anything, my laird?”

Bhaic paused with his hands on his belt. To his shame, he couldn’t recall if he’d had her.

And it was a shame when Ailis came to him a maiden. Feisty and passionate but still pure for the sake of honor.

The girl was licking her lower lip. She was halfway across the floor before he could stop her.

“Take a message to me bride,” he said.

The girl froze, disappointment twisting her features.

“Tell her I wish her a pleasant night’s rest.”

The girl smiled brightly and lowered herself. “It will only take a little bit of time, and I will return.”

“Nae.”

Her expression darkened.

“And make sure ye speak to her with the respect me wife should have.”

The girl turned around, but not before Bhaic saw her eyes widen. He cursed when the door shut.

He was being forced to see the Earl of Morton as a man with vision and insight. How could his own people be spiteful to one wee Robertson lass who was all but imprisoned inside the MacPherson castle?

There was the savage side of a Highlander’s nature that one could be proud of, and then there was the behavior of his own kin. Meanness, for the sake of being unkind. It shamed him.

Yet Ailis had faced them all down. Damned if he hadn’t been proud of her. She might have complained; instead she stood up for herself. Willing to earn her place.

Mercy? Nae. She deserved courting. No’ the cold reality of being claimed.

He unbuckled his belt and gathered up his plaid before it fell to the floor. He took the time to lay it on a table, folding it into pleats and threading one belt beneath it before he turned to take his ease. If there was trouble during the night, he’d need his kilt ready.

He lay back in his bed, his cock stiff and unsatisfied.

But he was pleased.

Aye. He was.

For tomorrow, he’d set about chasing down his bride.

* * *

Someone knocked on the door.

Ailis sat up, crumpling the sheet. Her heart jumped into a rhythm that she was sure would make it burst. Her attention flew to where the dressing robe was still lying over the arm of the chair.

Was the day not yet finished?

A girl came into view, looking around the outer receiving room.

“I am here.”

The maid turned to look at her and moved to where the two rooms joined under a double-wide opening. There were thick velvet curtains that might be drawn, but Ailis had left them pushed back to have the light from the fire. The darkness had felt too lonely, the glowing red embers offering small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

“Yer husband did send me to ye.”

Her heart was definitely going to burst.

“He bids ye a restful night.”

The girl offered her a shrug and started to leave, but then turned back and lowered herself, looking as though she was as uncertain of the gesture as Ailis was in receiving it. She scurried out the door the moment she was finished.

A restful night?

Dare she embrace relief or dread the fact that everyone would soon know Bhaic hadn’t wanted her?

She groaned and lay back down. How was it possible to be granted what she craved but then be dissatisfied?

Ye’re fickle…

Maybe. Honestly, she was too tired to ponder anything. The bedding was thick and warm, luring her away into the embrace of slumber.

She’d puzzle it all out tomorrow.