Five

Five

“Well, come on now.”

Helen had arrived.

“Ye aren’t planning on waiting in that bed until that mare foals?”

Ailis raised her head and sent Helen a withering look. Helen laughed but turned away before Ailis got a good look at her face.

“What is it?” she asked as she crawled from the bed.

Helen waved her closer and cautioned her to be quiet as they got near the outer door of the chamber.

“They were just getting ready to do it!”

“I’m going to tan that lad’s arse!”

“Damned mare!”

“Now we’ll be stuck with her for at least another day…”

Helen was turning purple as she tried not to laugh out loud. Ailis rolled her eyes before going over to where her dress was puddled on the floor. She picked it up and wrinkled her nose.

“Here.” Helen came forward with a surcoat. Ailis recognized it and slid into it.

“I’ve got a bath waiting down in yer chamber. Thought ye’d like to bathe before putting on some clean clothing.”

“It’s beneath ye to act as maid to me, but I appreciate it.”

Helen offered her a satisfied smirk. “The truth is, I am enjoying telling every one of those arrogant cows who think they are something special what I want, and that I am going to get it for ye.”

“Have ye been unhappy here?”

Helen shrugged. “I prefer to think of it as lonely, for it keeps me sane. But the lot in the kitchens is overly proud, and that’s a fact. Ye’ve got yer work set out for ye, and no mistake. Tending to ye puts me in a fine position to watch. And that pleases me very much.”

Finley and Skene shut their mouths when Helen opened the door. Ailis bit her lip when she saw how disappointed they both looked. Like a pair of boys who had arrived too late to get any jam with their bread.

Ye’re the one disappointed…

She felt her cheeks growing hot with the thought.

But she was disappointed.

Bhaic had been too.

She was definitely growing warm by the time she made it down to her chamber. The memory of how hard he’d been behind the tail of his shirt was unshakable.

Ha! ’Tis the memory of how he made ye shiver in the stable that is making ye hot…

She couldn’t deny it. Actually, she slowly smiled. It did seem that fate wasn’t finished toying with her just yet.

She laughed softly because she realized she wasn’t quite done toying with him either.

Perhaps she owed the Earl of Morton a kind thought or two.

Fate certainly did have a strange sense of humor.

Very strange indeed.

* * *

Bhaic climbed the tower stairs well after midnight. He was fairly certain his boots weighed triple what they had when he put them on that morning. Kam and Lyel were sitting outside Ailis’s door, playing cards. They looked up at him expectantly, hopefully—like a pair of puppies who wanted meat off his plate.

He shook his head. He stank of horse and sweat. Not exactly the way he’d planned to enjoy his bride.

Certainly not the way a maiden deserved to be deflowered.

He paused inside his chamber, staring at the slipper tub sitting in front of the fire. He walked across the floor to it and dipped his fingers into it. The water was warm from the heat hitting the metal. A length of toweling and a lump of soap were sitting nearby. A fresh shirt was neatly folded and waiting as well. Next to the soap was a small bottle of wine. The glow from the hearth turned it ruby red. A cloth covered a plate, and his belly rumbled, reminding him that he’d missed supper.

Ailis had remembered.

He suddenly grinned like a besotted fool.

Having a wife had benefits he’d never taken the time to think about. For certain, Duana had never thought to make sure he had a bath waiting for him. It was a personal thing. Something he realized he valued greatly. A quiet intimacy, one that stoked feelings he’d never associated with his female conquests.

He stripped and sank down into the water, still enjoying the glow of tenderness. It was truly tenderness, for a man was expected to shoulder what life demanded of him. A dutiful wife might be obedient, but he couldn’t be cross if Ailis did only as he commanded.

She’d chosen to do more, chosen to think of his comfort and not just the requirements of her position.

He used the soap to wash the scent of horse off himself, rinsing his hair twice before crawling out lest he end up asleep in the water. Lifting the cloth from the plate revealed a round of bread and a chunk of cheese, along with some fresh berries. It tasted better than many a feast he’d sat through, because he was so hungry.

He crawled into his bed and stretched. There was a slight scent clinging to the bedding, and it stirred his cock even as he slipped into slumber.

Ailis.

Tomorrow, he was going to hunt.

And bring in his prey.

* * *

Ailis beat him down the stairs by an entire hour. Bhaic went searching for her and found her in the kitchens with every last lad who worked there lined up in front of her. He leaned in the door frame, watching her as she took stock of what each one was wearing. She made them lift their feet to show her the soles of their shoes.

“Spending yer days idle, I see.”

Bhaic turned to find Marcus behind him. “I thought ye were overly concerned about the status of me union.”

His brother’s lips curved into a smirk. “I’ll admit, it’s becoming amusing the way the two of ye can nae seem to…connect.”

Bhaic sent his brother a profane gesture. Marcus slapped him on the shoulder. “Ye might as well come along with me to the crossroads. Yer bride is nae going to have any time for ye until tonight.”

“Trouble?”

Marcus shrugged. “Maybe…maybe no. Heard Lye Rob Gordon was seen raiding.”

Fifty men were already waiting in the yard. Bhaic mounted and rode out with them.

* * *

The day was overly long.

Ailis discovered the afternoon sun moved at a snail’s pace. She tried to focus but looked up from her lists more than she should have.

The cook finally rang the supper bells, but Bhaic wasn’t at the head table. The hall was more pensive than normal—everyone was waiting to see if the laird’s sons returned in good health. It was something she’d grown up accepting as a harsh fact of living in the Highlands. One reason men were so loyal to their clans was it was the only way to ensure safety. The farmers scattered across MacPherson land depended on the reputation of the MacPherson retainers. A lone man working his field might have his sons, but had little else to keep the neighboring clans from destroying his home.

Of course, that was why she was there. To end a feud that had placed a strain on those working the land near the border of her father’s land and Bhaic’s.

Just as Helen had been taken to ensure her father didn’t retaliate. So imperfect a solution, and yet, there appeared to be no other way.

The bells on the walls began to toll. Ailis listened for a moment, catching the rhythm. She smiled, because it was a happy one, not a frantic call to arms.

“I suppose that would be yer husband returning,” Helen said.

Ailis nodded and rose from her seat. They both walked down the aisle and out onto the steps. Bhaic, Marcus, and the MacPherson retainers had flooded into the yard.

But there was someone else with them too. Symon Grant was happily clasping hands with Shamus.

“And there is yer bride,” Symon declared. The men in the yard parted to clear a path between them. The Grant Laird studied her for a long moment. He looked over at Bhaic and punched him in the shoulder.

“She looks as though she’s had far too much sleep. Ye must no’ be looking close enough at the lass to see what a prize she is.”

“I’ll thank ye to stop looking so closely at me wife.” Bhaic made it to her and pulled her into his embrace.

He kissed her thoroughly, to the delight of those watching. “And just maybe, the rest of the world will let us have enough time to enjoy being wed.”

She laughed softly, slipping her hand across his chest. He caught her gaze, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the man holding her.

She was ready.

His expression tightened as his arms did. Then Symon was wrestling him away. The MacPherson retainers enjoyed the company of the Grant retainers. Flasks were pulled out of saddlebags and inner doublet pockets.

Ailis appreciated it, sitting at the head table for a time to enjoy a cup of spiced cider before the male conversation made her cheeks sting. She climbed the stairs to her chamber.

But Helen wasn’t there.

In fact, she hadn’t seen Helen since she’d gone out to see Bhaic return.

The state of her chamber further alarmed her. The bedding wasn’t pulled back. The water pitcher wasn’t refilled, and dirty dishes remained from the lunch she’d partaken of at the table.

Ailis turned and went down the stairs.

* * *

“Ye should be above stairs.”

Ailis stopped. Marcus was leaning in the passageway’s arched door frame. He was half-shrouded in shadow and looked as if he was very much at home that way.

“We told her that,” Finley said from behind her.

“Helen is missing,” Ailis said.

“Ye do nae know that.”

“I do.” Ailis looked to Marcus. “She always rights the chamber, and it hasn’t been done. I am worried something has happened to her.”

Marcus listened with an unreadable expression. Beyond the shadowed doorway, Bhaic sat with Symon and Shamus at the high table. They were in deep conversation, their expressions tight.

“Go back to yer chamber, mistress. Ye’ll see yer hand woman tomorrow,” Marcus told her.

“Ye know where she is?”

Marcus looked back toward her and gave her a single nod. There was something in his expression that chilled her blood. She looked past him at Symon Grant.

“Did ye have her locked away because her laird is here?”

Her voice had risen. Marcus abandoned his lazy stance instantly, facing off with her and backing her deeper into the shadows. Had she not backed up, he would have barreled straight into her.

“Take yer mistress above stairs and see that she stays there. Bound and gagged if necessary.”

The settled-in feeling she’d had shattered, cold, hard circumstances rushing in to torment her.

“Ye bloody brute.” Insulting him wasn’t going to gain her much. She made to dive around him but was caught from behind.

Finley and Lyel proved just how devoted to Marcus they were. She got out half a sound before something was wrapped around her head and tied across her mouth. They pulled her right off her feet and started carrying her up the stairs. She strained and twisted, but they tossed her into her chamber with ridiculous ease.

She ripped off the gag as they retreated, Finley eying her. “Ye heard him, mistress. Make a fuss, and I’ll have to truss ye up like a pig on the way to market.”

He closed the door in her face as her temper flared. She’d wrapped her hand around the handle before she accepted the harsh facts.

The gag was lying over her shoulder.

She’d end up bundled for market. There was no way to avoid it. A wave of helplessness went through her, washing out the foundation of trust she’d been building her new life on.

She and Helen were both hostages. Commodities to be traded and used to ensure peace.

Tears stung her eyes, and there was no way to hold them back. The sight of her personal things only made it worse, because it felt as though she was settling into her prison.

Marriage, prison. It seemed that for a Robertson, there was little difference.

* * *

Bhaic crawled up the stairs, certain he’d never been so tired. Kam and Skene tugged on the corners of their bonnets when he passed Ailis’s chamber.

It stung that she was there and not in his own, but honestly, he had to admit he was too tired to be patient.

So maybe she was wiser than he.

It was a humorous thought, one that had a smile curving his lips as he fell asleep.

* * *

Ailis wasn’t at the table in the morning. Bhaic had to wait for Symon to depart before he headed back up the stairs to discover her escort sitting outside her door, looking bored. Finley perked up the moment he saw him.

“I’m near starved,” the retainer said.

“Go.”

He didn’t knock but pushed the door in. “Why are ye up here, madam? Ye need to think of the men assigned to ye. They do nae have a waiting woman to bring them their meals.”

She flipped around. “I am here because yer brother had me imprisoned in this chamber last night, and Helen is suffering the same fate somewhere else.”

Bhaic stopped halfway across the chamber. “Be careful what ye accuse me brother of. He thinks first and often only of the clan. I’ll no’ have ye disrespecting him.”

Her face darkened with temper, but she made an effort to swallow it. “He had Helen locked away so she could nae seek out her laird while he was here. When I went looking for her, Marcus was waiting for me and told Finley to bring me up here. To bind and gag me if I didn’t go quietly. I have been a prisoner in this chamber.”

“But no’ any longer.” Marcus had come up the stairs behind him. His brother gave the door a shove closed before continuing. “Symon has cleared the gate.”

“It is no’ yer place to deal with me wife.” Bhaic’s tone was deadly.

Marcus didn’t back down from him. “But she is no’ yer wife yet. Which makes it me concern when there is a possible way for her to escape the castle.”

The two brothers shared a long look before Bhaic nodded. “Leave us.”

Marcus gave her a quick glance, one that drove home how ruthless he might be in defense of the MacPhersons.

“Are ye really going to allow him to treat Helen like that?”

Bhaic clearly wasn’t expecting her question to be about Helen. His brows lowered for a moment in contemplation. “As I said, Ailis, me brother will do whatever necessary to protect this clan. Ye can nae tell me yer brothers would do any different.”

“So Helen must suffer being naught but a captured woman?”

“She looked well enough.”

“How would ye feel if ye were prevented from seeing yer family?”

His expression softened. “Ye have a point there. I’ll talk to Marcus about making sure the lass is wed, and then—”

“What if she does nae want to wed?” she demanded.

His eyes narrowed. “Ye ask too much. Me brother would no’ have brought her here without good cause. I do nae need trouble with Symon. Helen will become a MacPherson. It’s the only solution.”

“The only one that favors the MacPhersons.”

He didn’t answer her, but his silence was confirmation enough.

It hurt.

He was everything she’d been raised to believe he was. She shook her head, nauseated by the stern stance he was taking. His expression softened.

“It has naught to do with us, Ailis. Our arrangement is proceeding well.”

She bit back what she wanted to say, because everything was churning inside her. His words stirred up the passion that had been burning slowly inside her since they’d been interrupted. The memory of the pleasure he’d introduced her to in the stable tormented her too, but there was the ruthless look Marcus had given her that Bhaic clearly approved of.

She turned her back on him, needing to sort out her feelings. Needing to shield her emotions before he sliced them to the bone. She heard him grunt behind her.

“Yer kin would do no different, and Lye Rob would have raped ye.”

Both solid truths. Duncan would have his own retainers posted about Robertson Castle. The knowledge made her feel less set upon, and at the same time, more overwhelmed than ever before.

He cupped her shoulder and turned her to face him. His eyes flickered with hard intent. “No Highlander can be weak, but I have chosen to be kind to ye.”

Why was she drawn to him? She felt the pull, her flesh yearning for his in spite of her mental dilemma.

“Do I live in fear of the moment when ye decide ye have gained what ye wish with kindness?” It was an honest question, but one that vexed him.

He stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Clearly ye need some time to think matters through.”

Overwhelmed was too meek a phrase to describe how she felt. Defeated was more fitting, and she couldn’t seem to shake it even as she felt it rip at the last of her resolve to remain hopeful.

“Clearly,” she muttered.

He nodded, obviously not pleased. But he turned and left. Something had torn between them, simply rent in two. The damage so great, there would never be a hope of mending it.

No hope at all.

* * *

“I am Elise.”

Ailis looked up at the girl who entered her chamber an hour later.

“Duana says I’m to see to ye now.” Elise set a tray down on the table. “Since ye missed the meal below. I’ll be back to help ye dress for supper. Ye’re expected at the high table by the laird and yer husband.”

Elise started to lower herself but stopped, uncertain how to proceed. She was facing a dreaded Robertson, after all.

“Thank ye, Elise.”

Relief spread across her face a moment before she was gone through the chamber door in a flutter of blue wool skirts.

Ailis would not cry.

No, she forbade herself.

She wasn’t a child.

But that left her noticing how silent the chamber was. She missed Helen’s companionship. Well, better to know what would become of friendships she forged.

Aye, better, for all that much sooner to learn to embrace a solitary life.

* * *

“Bhaic,” Shamus called out. Dinner was not even halfway finished.

Not that Ailis was eating very much. She felt the weight of Marcus, Bhaic, and Shamus too keenly for any true appetite.

The high table quieted down. Shamus looked down its length at his son. “Good night to ye.”

There was more silence. The retainers behind Shamus started to pull on his chair. “I am no’ going to bed. Me son and daughter-in-law are.”

Ailis’s chair started moving backward. She was fairly sure her face went up in flames. A moment later, Angus was beating the tabletop as he laughed, and his amusement caught like fire, running through the hall as the retainers actually tipped her out of her chair. Her choice was to stand or be dumped onto the floor.

Bhaic ended up no better. They both stood there for a moment, surprise holding them frozen.

Shamus looked at his son. “Enough uncertainty. Take yer bride to bed.”

The hall erupted again. Bhaic’s complexion actually darkened.

All Ailis felt was the noose tightening around her neck.

Well, there was no help for it. She lowered herself out of habit before moving past Shamus. She ordered herself to pick up her feet.

Ye’re a Robertson. No’ a coward.

Somehow, she made it to the fourth floor without really realizing it. She paused for only a moment before pushing the doors of Bhaic’s chambers open. The sound of Finley and the rest of her escort filled the stairway, making it easier to step far into the chamber. She ended up almost to the entryway to the bedchamber, facing the huge bed.

“Must it be this way between us, Ailis?” He’d closed the door, but not before she got a glimpse of Finley settling in on the landing. “It’s for sure we’ll disagree sometimes.”

“Apparently, we’ve been put to bed. I’m sure the Earl of Morton would approve.” She pinched out one of the candles, the light making her feel unbearably exposed. At least in darkness, she might embrace the yearning her flesh had for his and be content in the fact that his touch didn’t leave her cold.

It was more than some had.

She turned to look at him, searching for the man she’d so brazenly disrobed the day before. Maybe he was in there. “Did ye take Helen away from me?”

His jaw tightened. “I agreed with the decision.”

Well, it seemed sure that he wasn’t going to be that playful man tonight.

“I need help with my laces.” She turned her back on him. Elise had returned and helped her dress for supper, but this dress was one that laced in the back. She reached out and extinguished another candle as she waited. She’d thought turning her back on him would be easier. Instead, it heightened her awareness of him, of the time passing and the way she was waiting for him to touch her.

Darkness was a balm for her wounded feelings, allowing her to hide how lonely she felt. She took a step farther into the shadows of the bedchamber.

“Aye, I suppose darkness suits us both tonight.”

His voice was a raspy whisper. Part of her heard companionship in it, a hint of another soul that was just as caught in the tangle of circumstances as she was.

Was he?

She clung to that idea, tilting her head to the side when he stroked her nape, sighing as a ripple of sensation went across her skin.

She felt his fingers brush across her back, stopping when he found the lace holding her dress closed. It tightened just a bit as he loosened the knot. The soft sound of it being pulled free of the eyelets seemed to ring in her ears.

She worked at the cuffs of her sleeves. By the time he’d finished, her bodice and sleeves slipped easily to the floor. He tugged on the tie that held her skirts closed, and a moment later, they had fallen into a heap around her ankles. Her heart was racing, her lungs trying to keep up. She hesitated, uncertain of the next move.

Bhaic settled the issue by kissing her neck. A soft pressing of his lips against her flesh that sent her thoughts spinning. She bid them farewell happily, backing up and digging her fingers into the pleats of his plaid. She wanted to find him. Just him. She wanted everything else gone.

So she pulled the lace of her corset free. It was a relief to be free of the stiff garment, her breasts feeling heavy and swollen.

“Christ, it seems like forever since I’ve seen these.” He was looking over her shoulder, stroking his hands up her belly until he cupped her breasts.

His touch set off a pulsing between her legs. It was far from startling tonight. Instead, she felt some part of her welcoming the rising hunger.

She turned around, seeking out satisfaction. His first belt pulled free as simply as it had before. She went looking for the second one, but he cupped her chin and raised her face. For one moment, their eyes met. She could see him contemplating her, trying to think of something to say.

“Kiss me.” She didn’t want to talk. She reached for his shoulder and rose up to take what she desired.

He drew in a stiff breath, and she captured it when she pressed her lips against his. Her toes hurt from stretching to meet him.

“I can nae think when ye do that, Ailis.”

She had to sink back down, but she drew her hands along his chest, finding the buttons on his shirt and opening them so she might touch his skin. “I do nae want to think. I might just go mad if I do.”

He made a soft sound under his breath. “Aye. I suppose ye have a good idea at that.”

He backed away, working the second belt that secured his kilt. It dropped with a soft sound as she took another step into the dark bedchamber. He followed slowly, opening the cuffs of his shirt before he pulled it over his head.

Her breath caught, shyness overcoming her. But that didn’t stop her from looking at him and letting her attention slip down from his chest to the taunt muscles of his belly, and farther still until she was looking at his groin. Her cheeks heated, but she reached out, wanting to be bold instead of submissive.

She couldn’t bear being submissive tonight.

He stiffened where she touched his length. It was hot, but the skin incredibly soft. She stroked him, hearing his breath rasp between his teeth. She looked up, catching sight of his jaw being clenched.

“Aye, yer touch drives me near insane.”

He reached out and tugged her chemise up and off. It fluttered toward the floor like a ghost in the darkened room.

“I want to do the same to ye.” He cupped her breast, and she gasped.

He chuckled softly. She closed her hand around his member, enjoying the way he ended up sucking in a harsh breath.

Her body was hot, their lack of clothing bothering her not at all. In fact, she was enjoying being bare. There was a wicked sense of pleasure weaving its way through her, one that overrode every lecture she’d ever heard on propriety and modesty.

His neck was corded, his eyes narrowing. She would have sworn she felt his control growing thin, just as her own was.

She wasn’t sure who moved first. All that mattered was that he gathered her up against him, and he gave her his kiss at last.

She craved it. Felt as if she was starving for it.

Bhaic seemed to be as well.

He captured the back of her head and held her still as his mouth ravished hers. It was a hungry merging, his lips claiming hers and pushing her mouth open so he could boldly thrust his tongue inside. She moaned and tried to stroke his tongue with her own in return. Her body twisted against his, seeking a deeper connection.

He suddenly broke off; she made a half sound of distress before he was lifting her off her feet and carrying her around the footboard of the bed. The ropes groaned as he bore her up onto the bed. They were both straining, crawling into the center of the huge mattress. And at last, he covered her, sending a jolt of delight through her from the contact.

He pressed her thighs wide, settling between them. A dim thought surfaced, one she’d contemplated when she first learned what a man and woman did in bed together. But there was nothing awkward about the position.

It felt right.

Almost perfect, in fact.

Still, something was missing.

She lifted her hips, seeking out that last thing she craved. At last, there was trust between them.

Bhaic didn’t disappoint her. He reached between them, teasing her slit and drawing the fluid pooling at the entrance of her passage through her folds. He stroked over that throbbing nub at the top of her sex, sending her arching and gasping with delight. He toyed with it, rubbing it as her insides clenched and twisted.

But she felt empty.

She opened her eyes and found him watching her. “That is nae enough.”

His lips curved. “Nay, lass, it is nae.”

He left off teasing her and guided his member to her open sex. The first touch made her tremble. He pressed forward, sinking inside as her body stretched.

He pulled free, waiting for her to draw in a breath. He smoothed the hair back from her face.

“Again,” she said, her voice more sultry than she’d ever imagined it might be.

“There’s the lass who stood up to Morton and me on our wedding night.” His expression tightened as he thrust forward. “Ye are fearless, Ailis.”

His words pleased her, but not as much as the hard flesh pushing deeper inside her. She let her eyes close because she was only interested in feeling. His hardness pleased her in ways she’d never suspected possible. There was pain, but what she really wanted to know was how good would it feel when he was sheathed completely?

She lifted her hips, eager for that connection.

“Let me—”

He didn’t get to finish his warning. Her body gave under the pressure he’d been using and her own motions, something tearing inside her before he penetrated to the hilt. She gasped, caught between a moment of white-hot pain and intense enjoyment.

“Christ, Ailis…I did nae mean to hurt ye…”

He was petting her, smoothing her hair back from her face. She opened her eyes. “I do nae think there was a way to avoid it.”

His expression changed. For a moment, she witnessed the respect he’d mentioned on that night that seemed so long ago. But his eyes began to narrow, his lips thinning as he started moving. Need shimmered in his eyes, making her breath catch.

He was holding himself back, moving in and out of her with slow thrusts. The effort cost him, the muscles along his neck drawing tight. She lifted for him, gasping when his length slid along that pulsing pleasure point at the top of her sex.

“Aye…” he ground out as he withdrew and pushed back in at the same angle. “We have to find the right…position…”

She had no inclination to think about what he was saying. Only to feel. She lifted her hips, straining toward him because it felt so incredible. She was poised on the edge of something, something that was twisting tighter with every downward plunge of his body into hers. All that mattered was meeting him, moving in unison with him until she felt the world shatter. It was far more intense than it had been in the stable. This time she cried out, unable to contain it all inside herself. The moment seemed to hold her, keeping her inside it as pleasure burned through her.

Bhaic held her down, the only solid thing in her universe. He rode her through it, his pace becoming wild in the last few thrusts before he arched back and strained to bury himself inside her. She opened her eyes as his seed began to flow, spurting deep against the mouth of her womb while he rocked her a few final times before collapsing beside her on his back.

His breathing was harsh, his arm shaking as he reached up to stroke her face. She suddenly noticed the silence in the room. Their breathing was slowing down, the blood no longer roaring in her ears. Her body felt more relaxed, more sated than she’d ever felt.

So unexpected.

While she hadn’t worried that marriage duties would be so painful she’d dread them, she certainly hadn’t expected to feel so elated when it was all over and done with. The darkness was the perfect place to experience it, allowing her the privacy to simply be honest.

Of course, the sun would rise.

That hard certainty soured her mood.

Bhaic was still beside her. His breathing had slowed. She waited for a bit, listening to the deepening sounds of his breath. At last, when she was sure he was asleep, she pushed away from him, easing from the bed and slipping onto her feet.

She ached.

The pain surprised her, stopping her for a moment. Her chemise was lying on the floor. She reached for it and put it on. She pinched out more candles on the way to where her dress was. There was no point in getting into it, so she wrapped her arisaid around herself and gathered up her things.

Finley jumped when she opened the door, staring at her in surprise. She passed him and made it to her chamber before the first tears escaped her eyes. She let them flow, the strength to hold them in beyond her.

It would be better tomorrow.

Of course it would.

But that was a lie, because she’d still be a Robertson.

* * *

She awoke at first light again.

Although, it was barely first light.

Still, she hadn’t slept much, so what was the point of remaining in bed? She got up and found a chunk of bread left from the day before. The edges were hard, but she tore them away and ate the rest. The pitcher still had some water in it too.

Helen would have taken it away.

Ailis scoffed at the tray. Most any chamber would have been righted. But of course, she was a Robertson. It felt as though the walls were closing in on her. She went through her clothing and found another dress that laced in the front. Made for days when she needed to work as hard as everyone else, it was sturdy green wool that went with her blond hair.

She tied up the front and put her arisaid on. Gaining a sense of satisfaction from seeing to herself. At least no one would be labeling her helpless.

Don’t be peevish… Ye knew full well where ye were heading when ye wed.

She drew in a deep breath to steady herself. Aye. She’d known and struck her bargain, so she’d have to be keeping it. Besides, she couldn’t very well expect to win over many hearts in a single week.

What she needed was a ride. Some fresh air would see her feeling right again.

She pushed her doubts aside and headed down the stairs. The hall was still full of sleeping retainers. They had their plaids pulled up and over their heads to stay warm. More than one of them had a serving lass sharing those plaids.

She caught herself staring at them, trying to decide if she longed for the same. If she were to be practical, she’d expect nothing more than contentment from her marriage and be grateful for the pleasure Bhaic had made sure she found in his bed.

Was there more? The couples in the hall looked more intimate somehow. The sight stirred up some longing she hadn’t realized she had. The couple she was spying on started to move, stroking each other beneath their layers of wool plaid. The man cupped his consort’s breasts as she reached down and boldly grasped his member. Their legs entwined as they kissed, and finally the man rolled the woman beneath him. He shrouded her with his plaid, but not before Ailis spied her clasping him between her thighs.

She’d done that too…

Her cheeks heated as she ducked out of the castle and headed up to the stables. It was quiet still. But her mare gave her a warm welcome, tossing her head and pawing at the ground.

“I’ve missed ye too.”

* * *

Marcus was in the hall when Bhaic made it down the stairs.

“I did nae expect ye to send the lass from yer bed,” Marcus said softly. “A bit harsh.”

“She left after I fell asleep,” Bhaic bit back under his breath. “Likely due to the fine sense of welcome she’s been shown.”

There was a delicate scoff. Bhaic looked beyond his brother to see Helen sitting in a chair. She had her arms folded over her chest and was perched on the edge of the seat. Marcus was watching her, daring her to move.

“As if either of ye know a single thing about a woman’s feelings.”

Marcus’s lips curled. “Me brother knows something about moving a woman to ecstasy. I have that on good report.”

Helen pushed her lips into a pout as Bhaic punched him in the shoulder. “Have done with us, Marcus. Ye’ve had yer way enough.”

Marcus continued to look at Helen. “I always get me way.”

Helen looked right back at him and arched one of her eyebrows. “Every spoilt child has an encounter with disappointment. Ye’re no different.”

Marcus looked past Bhaic. “What are ye doing down here without yer charge, Finley?”

Finley had a fresh mug of ale, his beard frothy with it. “The lass came out last night looking well ridden. Ye said to watch her until the union was consummated.”

He drew off a long sip and belched, clearly thinking the job well done. Marcus started toward him but turned back around when Helen moved.

“Sit back down, Helen.” Marcus spoke softly. It was a warning, one Bhaic knew well.

“I am no’ agreeing with this.”

Bhaic looked up to see several of their retainers lined up.

Marcus shrugged. “Ye can choose, or I’ll let them compete for ye.”

“Ye’re a bastard,” she snarled.

“I am.”

“Ye’re thieving from me father. That’s the truth about what ye’re set to do. Forcing him to give me dowry to one of yer own.”

“Ye’ve been here too long,” Marcus countered. “Yer reputation is ruined if ye are no’ wed.”

“That’s yer shame, no’ mine.”

“Which way is going to be, lass? I’ve got other things to see to today.”

She lifted one hand and gestured at the men who had stepped up. “What? Do I no’ even get the chance to check their teeth? Should I select one simply by the way he leers at me?”

Marcus slowly grinned. “Well now, lads. It seems the lass desires a bit of courting. Make sure ye are attentive to her and do nae lose sight of her.”

His last words were delivered in a solid tone his men recognized well. They grinned, several of them chuckling. Helen slowly stood. She turned to look at the men eyeing her like a treat. Marcus had turned to look at Bhaic. Helen struck in that small moment of inattention, claiming a pitcher from the tabletop and swinging it in a wide arch. She caught Marcus on the side of the head, knocking him flat.

Bhaic stared incredulously as his brother landed in a heap. There was silence in the hall for a split second before laughter erupted. People turned around in time to see Marcus jumping to his feet. Helen had the pitcher in both hands, facing off with him.

But it was the sound of their father’s amusement that made them both turn. Shamus was halfway up the steps. He’d stopped because he was laughing so hard, his age-worn body was shaking. He struggled to make it up the last two steps.

“Just like yer mother,” he said at last. “She was never afraid of anything. No’ even the church. She was a member of the new kirk. That’s why she never wed me.”

“He’s trying to force me to wed.” Helen appealed to Shamus. “Allow me to go home.”

Shamus made his way to a chair. He settled back into it and gestured her forward. “Why are ye on me land, lass?”

“Yer son stole me to force me father to no’ make a fuss. He had me locked away when me own laird was here so I could nae seek his protection. I am a Grant.”

“Me son Marcus, ye mean?”

Helen nodded. Shamus considered her for a long moment. “Well now, I stole his mother too. A Highlander does that from time to time when he sees a lass worth keeping for himself.”

Helen’s face paled, but she wasn’t ready to give in just yet. She took a deep breath and considered her argument.

“Yet he is trying to force me on his men.” Helen gestured behind her. “I’ll have none of it.”

People were moving closer, frowning at the tone Helen was using with their laird. Shamus was pensive, clearly thinking the matter through.

“If ye stole her, Marcus, ye’ll keep her or return her to her father,” Shamus said firmly.

“Her family was making trouble,” Marcus informed his sire. “Better one woman change her thinking than blood spilt.”

Shamus took to stroking his beard.

“I was giving the men leave to court her,” Marcus added when his father didn’t speak.

“After listing me dowry,” Helen argued. “Ye’ve given them a fine reason for rough wooing sure enough.”

There was a rise of sound from the back of the hall—women were shaking their heads in disapproval.

“Me son’s choice to take ye was valid. Unless ye would like to tell me that ye would prefer spilled blood over a peaceful settlement?” Shamus suddenly sounded exactly like the laird he’d been ten years earlier, before age had stolen his strength.

Helen opened her mouth but shut it without uttering a word. She nodded a single time, clearly frustrated by her circumstances but wise enough to see the matter for what it was.

Shamus grunted with approval and turned his attention to Marcus.

“Ye stole her. If ye can no’ convince her to wed ye, it falls to ye to return her to her father and account for yer actions. Her father will account for his actions if he persists in causing trouble. It’s true a Highlander may steal a woman, but no’ to make a mockery of her and her father’s good name. However, if she does nae favor ye, she may choose another.”

Marcus opened his mouth to argue at the same time that Helen did. Shamus slapped the table, making it clear the matter was closed. Which left them staring at one another. “Now. On to yer brother.”

Shamus took a drink from his mug before he looked around. “Where is that sheet?”

“Father…” Bhaic said quietly.

His father paid him no mind. Duana finally came into sight, her breathing labored and sweat trickling down the sides of her face. But she came up onto the high ground and held up a sheet. The dark stain on it was clear in the morning light.

“Well now.” Shamus nodded approvingly. “That’s settled.” He slapped the tabletop again but looked around. “Where is the lass? Still sleeping? Well now…that’s me son after all! Let her rest. She’ll be needing it.”

The hall filled with laughter.

Duana started to direct the serving of the high table. The retainers moved the tables and benches into position so they might enjoy breaking their fast.

The day was beginning, but his wife never appeared.

Well, tonight he’d see about making sure she had reason to seek him out.

* * *

Her mare was eager for a ride, setting off the moment Ailis gave her leave to. The hills were covered in green, and the heather was blooming. Ailis leaned low and let her mare run. The castle fell out of sight before she pulled up on the reins.

Her chest felt lighter. Her circumstances no longer seemed so overwhelming.

Well, she wouldn’t say she felt hopeful, but at least she wasn’t hopeless any longer.

It was something.

She smiled ruefully.

Well, her marriage was something too. Something she’d best avoid putting a label on. It was done now, and there was part of her satisfied by the knowledge. Part of her hoping for another night of passion. Was that to be the way she found meaning in her new life? In those dark moments when she surrendered to the bliss Bhaic’s touch unleashed?

Well, it had certainly been better than what the marriage bed held for some daughters of lairds who needed to marry with alliances in mind. He wasn’t old enough to be her father—more than one bride had suffered such a fate.

She wasn’t wed to Marcus.

That idea made her snicker. Bhaic’s brother was well suited to his position as War Chief. Ruthless to his core. She couldn’t see him taking her to the astrologer’s house, and the idea of Marcus courting her was laughable. He would hunt his wife, not court her.

At least her mood was lightening. She eased her mare up an incline, coming to a crest. Below her, a river was roaring with spring melt off. The power of the moving water was incredible. It was churning so much, it created its own mist. The sun was coming up now, chasing away the night shadows. The moment was magical, that time between night and day when fae roamed and the specters of night were no longer able to move about.

There was a crack behind her. She started to turn but was suddenly falling off the horse as pain ripped across her shoulders and a shower of splinters rained down on her. She hit the ground, more agony tearing through her. Her mare reared up, and Ailis willingly let herself start tumbling down the incline. The newly risen sun flashed off the horse’s hooves as the animal pawed at the air before coming down.

Ailis lost sight of her as she tumbled head over heels, her skirts blinding her and trapping her arms. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t get her bearings, and a moment later, she plunged into the river, the chill biting into her.

She let out a shriek, but her mouth was full of water and fabric. The current tore at her clothing, dragging her into its heart and downstream as she fought to break the surface and draw breath. She was straining, fighting with all her strength, but the water was too powerful. The pain in her back was stolen by the chill of the water, but still she fought to escape its power.

* * *

Helen was a bold woman.

She appeared in the training yard later in the day in defiance of the tradition of it being a place for men. Some of the younger retainers blinked as they tried to decide if she was truly there. She gave them no attention, continuing on to the man she sought.

“Save yer breath, Helen.” Marcus cast her only a short glance before returning his attention to the men training in the yard. “I will nae be taking ye back to yer father, and ye do nae belong in the training yard.”

Marcus and Bhaic were standing on a stone platform at the front of the training yard. It was set off from the main yard in front of the keep. Helen picked up her skirt and climbed the stairs without hesitation, a stern look on her face that promised Marcus hell.

“No’ that I am surprised to hear ye saying such, but I did no’ come here to talk to ye.”

Helen stepped right up to him but looked at Bhaic. “I can nae find Ailis.”

“Who gave ye permission to go near her?” Marcus demanded.

Helen bristled. “At least I went looking for her. No’ a single one of yer household cares to notice that their mistress is gone, and it past noon.”

Bhaic turned to face her. “Where did ye look?”

“She is no’ in her chamber, or yers, or the kitchens. And no one has seen her. That lot ye had trailing her has no idea where she is.”

“Elise should know,” Bhaic said slowly, trying to think the matter through. But his emotions were rising.

“That useless creature dropped a tray in Ailis’s chamber this morning and left, considering that service enough for a Robertson. She never checked to see if her mistress was in the bedding,” Helen informed them both. “I checked. The tray is untouched, and a dress missing from those her father brought her. I hung them and took an inventory.”

Bhaic locked gazes with Marcus.

“The mare,” they said at the same time.

Bhaic was down the steps and on the back of his horse in a flash of thigh and plaid. Marcus was right behind him. Men scrambled to pull horses around from where they were kept ready during the day. They dug their heels in to catch up with their leaders.

Helen was left standing on the stage from which training was conducted. The youths had stopped and were staring at her, some of them with gaping jaws. She held her chin steady before making her way down the steps and away from the training yard.

* * *

“Well now, that mare was gone before first light.”

“And ye did nae think to tell me?” Bhaic demanded of his stable master.

The man shrugged. “Yer stallion was missing too. Thought the pair of ye went off to the astrologer’s house again. Or someplace else ye might enjoy being newly wed.”

Bhaic cursed, feeling his own choices nipping on his heels.

“Pull the hounds out,” Marcus instructed. “Looks like it will be a good thing she went back to her own bed last night. Best get that sheet. We’ll start with the mare, but might need something of Ailis’s.”

“Aye.” Bhaic swung back up onto his stallion and headed back to the castle. By the time he made it back to the stables, thirty men were readying their horses. Marcus had chosen well. They were all hardened Highlanders, their saddles packed light but with what they needed to survive.

The hounds were large ones, their coats gray. They were eager for the hunt, pulling on their leashes. The hound master took the hounds into the mare’s stall.

There was a low whine as one of them picked up a scent. Another hound joined in, and then the pack was jumping against their leashes, trying to break free. The hound master let them go, the pack taking off into the afternoon light.

Bhaic was right on their tail. He avoided thinking about what Ailis’s absence meant.

But that didn’t stop his temper from rising.

The hounds led them over the ridge and into the village. The most confounding thing was that they were heading away from Robertson land. Someone started ringing the church bell as they neared. People came out of their homes, goodwives standing in their doorways wearing aprons as children peered through open windows and men looked out from workshops. The streets cleared to allow for the retainers’ passage.

Marcus whistled at Bhaic and pointed ahead of them. Ailis’s mare was tied up outside the tavern. Bhaic slid from the saddle as several of his retainers struggled to release the hounds. They tossed slices of meat to the animals to praise them for a duty well done.

Bhaic went inside, pausing in the doorway to get a look at what was happening, his hand wrapped around the pommel of his sword.

The place was filled with laughter. It died away quickly as the occupants gained a look at who was arriving. They reached up to tug on the corners of their caps.

“The mare,” Bhaic began. “Who tied her up?”

There was a hoot from several of the men sitting at the tables. One of them lifted his mug toward his companion. “See there? Even the Tanis has heard of yer talents!”

“Who?” Bhaic asked again.

The men were all drinking again. Bhaic ended up waiting until they lowered their mugs. One of them wiped his mouth on his sleeve before standing. “The mare is me prize. Shot a Robertson off her back this morning, I did. Damned bastard was sneaking around at first light. Up to no good for certain. Saw those Robertson colors clearly.”

“Ye shot her?” Bhaic demanded. Marcus put out his arm, holding him back.

“No’ the mare.” The man sniffed indignantly. “Horse can’t be held accountable for what stable it was born in.”

“The rider,” Marcus snapped.

The man shrugged and reached for something on the table. “It was a Robertson sure enough.” He held up a tattered piece of wool, the Robertson colors clear in spite of the mud dried on it. “I know me enemy when I see them. Even in the dim light of early morning,” the man declared. He patted one of the pistols stored in his belt. “Keep these loaded just in case I needs them.”

“What is yer name?” Bhaic asked. Marcus recognized his low tone for the threat it was, standing half in front of him.

“Haddox.”

Bhaic flattened a hand on his brother’s chest and pushed him aside. “Did ye hear of me recent wedding?”

The men in the tavern all started nodding.

“Aye. Indeed I did,” Haddox stated proudly, but his eyes widened as he realized exactly what Bhaic was getting at.

“Did ye shoot me wife?”

Haddox lost his color, his mouth working like a freshly caught fish. “It was only barely first light… I saw…saw the colors…” he looked down at the mangled piece of wool, dropping it as though it burned his hand.

Bhaic grabbed the man up by his clothing. “Where?”

“Up by the river… He went into the river…”

Bhaic tossed him toward the tavern door. “Take me there.”

* * *

It was his failing.

Bhaic looked at the ground, the place where Ailis had fallen, marked by gouges in the new spring growth. It was a steep incline, the earth worn away by the water. It was hard to keep his footing. If he’d fallen from a horse, there would have been no hope of stopping.

“I let ye down,” Marcus said quietly, disgust edging his tone.

“No. I should have seen to her. She’s me wife.” Bhaic moved down the slope, following the path she’d taken on her way to the riverbank. He looked at the current and peered down the ravine.

“If she’s alive, she’s on her way—”

“To Gordon land,” Bhaic finished for his brother.

“God help the lass.”

“No,” Bhaic snarled. “God help Lye Rob if I find him anywhere near me wife.”

The Earl of Morton and his threats about feuding could rot in hell if Lye Rob put one hand on her. Bhaic yanked the sheet off his saddle and gave it to the dogs. They sniffed at it and started to search along the riverbank.

* * *

Obviously, she wasn’t dead.

No, she was clearly alive, because there wasn’t supposed to be pain in heaven.

Maybe ye’re in hell…

Well, she was freezing. So she wasn’t in hell.

She coughed out another mouthful of water and wheezed. Pain shot through her. There was so much of it, she was fairly certain it would be simpler to list what part of her body didn’t hurt as opposed to what did. Her back was on fire, as though there was a red-hot poker across her shoulder blades. She wiped at her face, but there was so much mud, she had to roll over and scoop up handfuls of water to wash her eyes out before she could open them.

And when she did, she wished she were dead.

“No’ happy to see me, Ailis Robertson?”

She blinked, but Lye Rob Gordon was still standing there, looking at her as though she were a freshly downed doe. “I’d have preferred Satan.”

Two of his retainers hauled her off the riverbank. She cried out, her back in agony as they moved her.

Lye Rob cupped her chin, bringing their gazes together. “Ye’re on me land now. Forget who is master here, and ye’ll suffer for it.” He slapped her. She staggered only because her legs were so unsteady.

“I am wed.” She straightened up, pushing the pain aside.

“So was Bothwell,” Lye Rob answered her. “A little gold in the right hand, and we’ll have ye divorced quickly enough.”

“Wedding me will nae gain ye me father’s support.”

Lye Rob moved toward her. “Ye’ll be the one to tell him how savage yer MacPherson husband was. Beating ye…” He hit her again, this time using his fist against her shoulder. She went skidding into the dirt. Some of his retainers looked disapproving, but none of them were willing to cross the laird’s son.

“I will nae.”

Lye Rob grinned, coming down on one knee next to her, because she couldn’t stop shaking enough to stand.

“We’ll see about that.”

There was a twisted flicker of enjoyment in his eyes. She stared at it, sickened by the sight. He grinned at her horror.

“Ye’re right.” He tapped her on the chin. “I will enjoy it.”

She didn’t doubt him. Her belly twisted with nausea, but it gave her the strength to struggle to her feet.

“We need to build a fire,” one of his men said.

Lye Rob looked up. “Ye do nae tell me what to do. Me father may have stuck ye to me, but I’m too old for a nurse.”

He was an older man, his head shaved but his whiskers well kept. “She’s no good to ye dead. I’ve seen men pulled from that river who died a few hours later from the ordeal. The chill stops the heart. Hers is slowing now, that’s why her fingers are blue. With the sun setting, ye’ll need a fire, or she’ll no’ see the dawn. Mark me words.”

Lye Rob looked down at her hands and cursed. “All right then.”

He started up the incline, leaving her to his men. The older man took her in hand, laying an arm around her back as he half-carried her up the incline. Their horses were on the other side of the rise, leaving the sound of the river behind them and making sure they could hear anyone approaching them. There was a wagon, stuffed full of bags and other items.

But that didn’t horrify her as much as the three women tied to the wheels of the wagon. Their clothing was dirty and their faces smudged with dirt. One was a Robertson, but the others were MacPhersons. All of them had pinched expressions as they tried to hide their fear.

“Add her to the plunder, Naughton,” Lye Rob directed. “She’s a fine prize to be taking home. Me father will have to take notice of me now.”

Naughton took her close to the fire. He pushed her down gently. He knelt as Lye Rob tossed a length of rope over to him. It landed in the dirt because he was busy rubbing her feet.

“Got to get some warmth back into ye, lass.”

He looked up at her, trying to tell her something. For a moment, she thought she was only seeing what she wanted to. That panic was pushing her to desperation. He was rubbing her feet, and she realized both her shoes were missing. One stocking was torn completely away, and the other was tattered. Her skin was scraped and cut, but he palmed something and pressed it against her calf. She blinked, trying to decide if she was really feeling that cold metal against her skin. Naughton gave her a hard look before he began to move it up her leg.

She bit her lip, sealing her protest inside her mouth as he reached all the way to her garter. No one except Bhaic had touched her thigh. She felt him slide whatever it was under her garter before pulling his hand down. He shot her a warning before he picked up the rope and looped it around her ankles. The knots he tied were snug but not too tight.

“Now give me yer hands. I’ve no care to handle ye, seeing as ye’re another man’s wife.”

She forced herself to comply, focusing on the feeling of what was secure in her garter. It was a small eating knife. Like the one Marcus had insisted she not have. Her brother had shown her how to use one years ago.

It would be a last effort to keep herself from rape. Good only when her attacker was close enough to hit his vital organs and distracted enough for her to land her blow.

Yet, it was something.

She simply didn’t know if it would be enough.