Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

B y the time Stellan and his men delivered the butchered buck to the kitchen, he was again covered in blood, and still had to explain Mariota to the laird. But first, he needed to clean up. He enlisted Cook's help. Rather than have the lasses carry hot water up to his chamber, he used the tub in the screened-off nook off the kitchen, stripped and slid in with a satisfied groan. Cook had left soap and towels. He was content to stay until the water cooled, but the laird awaited. So did Mariota.

Anders shouting his name woke him from the doze brought on by warm comfort and exhaustion. Moss green eyes and the feel of Mariota's slim waist under his hands tormented him. He was glad of the growing chill of the water.

"Ah, there ye are. So Cook is stewing ye for our supper?"

"No' likely," Stellan answered, stood and let the water run down his torso before grabbing the top bath sheet from the stack and wrapping it around his waist. "What's so urgent ye have to come find me here?" He stepped out of the tub and frowned at his twin.

"I ken ye picked up a stray. And this will interest ye. 'Tis good, I think. I felt yer surprise and attraction to her long before ye got back."

"Did ye? That hasna happened in, well, I dinna recall the last time."

"At least six months. I've seen her, by the way. Lovely. Nan introduced us. Now the bad news. Da wants us. Now."

Stellan grimaced. "Now, of course." He grabbed the next bath sheet and rubbed his hair as dry as he could. "I have to dress."

"Best hurry, then. I'll go stall him," Anders said and left before Stellan could ask him to bring down some clothes.

Stellan headed for his chamber wrapped in another bath sheet after checking to make sure it was dry and not riddled with translucent wet spots. He knew the gamut that awaited him in the great hall. He crossed quickly, making a point to ignore the admiring glances the kitchen wenches and other clan womenfolk sent his way. Why hadn't he sent for clean clothes before he got in the damned tub? None of the lasses at Sutherland interested him, but he and Anders had always interested them. He'd known since his beard came in not to give them more to feed their fantasies.

In his chamber, he wasted no time getting dressed in clean clothes, and hurried back downstairs toward the laird's solar, glad to see the lasses paid him less attention now that he was clothed. Less, but not none. One or two smiled at him with invitation in their eyes as they fingered the edges of their chemises. He looked away and kept moving. They must think he was his twin.

Anyone who didn't know them well had trouble telling them apart, a fact they'd taken advantage of many times before they'd spent the years between ages nine and sixteen fostered away. As lads, they'd get a treat from the cook, return as the other brother and get another. When they returned from fostering, they went right back to switching identities to fool their tutors so that Anders took Stellan's French classes and Stellan took Anders' history classes, saving them both from courses that made them cringe. Those days of impersonating each other were behind them, save for those rare instances when a lass caught Stellan's eye.

As Mariota had.

When Stellan entered the solar, Anders and their father were standing at the worktable, studying a map.

"Ye needed to see us?" Stellan moved toward them.

Sutherland straightened and crossed his arms. "Are ye surprised? What the hell were ye thinking?"

His father's vehemence took Stellan by surprise. "That the lass was lost, exhausted, and needed help. She's a MacKay."

"I'm well aware. Mariota."

"Aye, 'tis her name." A shiver ran down Stellan's back. What did his da know?

"I received a missive from the MacKay. The second on the subject actually, two days ago."

"What subject?"

Anders moved around the table to stand with his twin.

Sutherland gestured them to chairs. "His heir, his daughter Mariota, is of marriageable age."

Stellan exchanged a shocked glance with Anders. Stellan felt the bottom drop out of his gullet. She was the MacKay heir ? No wonder he'd felt she was withholding some of her story. The twins exchanged frowns. What an impossible situation he'd put them in. He groaned, not just because of who she was, but because of his attraction to her. A lass he could never have, as tied to her clan as he was to his. This was trouble, indeed.

"Did she leave because she was to be wed?" It made better sense than the story she told about being attacked, and her father, the laird, not protecting her. Or did it? She'd taken a huge risk in running away. Only a lass driven to desperation would do such a thing.

"Last fall, when ye both were away," their father continued, "MacKay proposed an alliance. I posed it to Cameron. Ye ken he looked in another direction for a wife."

"Mary Elizabeth Rose, the Rose laird, aye."

"MacKay never actually designated which of ye lads he would like to see wed to his daughter. Now, it appears something has happened to give her marriage some urgency. He writes that he wants a Sutherland son to come to MacKay to meet her. And for the betrothal."

"He's jesting. Or ye are." Anders frowned. "When did ye say ye received his missive?"

"Two days past."

"Which means he sent a ghillie four days ago or more. She hasna been gone from home that long. She found us in our territory last night, so her da sent the missive before she ran off. Or escaped, by her telling. And she's fallen right into our hands." Stellan filled them in on what he knew of Mariota's story. "She was exhausted by the time she found us. She wouldna have made it much farther, and I dinna like to think what might have happened if she'd run into anyone other than us."

Anders frowned. "He doesna care whom she weds? Any Sutherland male?"

"Any son of mine," Sutherland corrected. "Save the heir, of course."

Anders gulped.

Stellan would have laughed but the situation was too serious.

"How many men would have to go with us to ensure he didn't kill us out of hand once we crossed into MacKay territory?" Anders asked, finding his voice.

"None. He guarantees safe passage."

"He doesna ken we have her," Stellan said, trying to figure out how many ways this situation could go wrong.

"Nay, and by now, he's probably quite concerned about our response since he canna produce her."

"But we can," Anders said.

"Why Sutherland and no' one of his other allies. Gunn or Sinclair or MacLeod?" Stellan frowned. "He must be nervous about Domnhall."

"I would be if I were he," Sutherland said. He shrugged, then studied both twins and seemed to come to a decision. "I will notify him that she's made her way here. Since he will doubt she has remained untouched, I must agree to the betrothal. If his response is still favorable, she must return home until the wedding."

To Anders, of course. Stellan shook his head. "Da, ye canna. She claims to have fled because she feared a clansman." She hadn't said what sort of assault she'd endured. Was her father trying to marry her off because she was ruined and he wanted to make sure she was wed before a bairn arrived? His frown deepened. He hadn't gotten the sense from her of that sort of violation. She'd fought her attacker. Wounded him, she'd said. If he'd tried to do more, Stellan doubted he'd succeeded.

"If she's betrothed to a Sutherland, do ye think her da will allow her to be harmed?"

"We canna be certain…" Stellan protested, still bent on protecting her.

"Anders, ye will go— with an escort. Stellan," he added, holding up a hand as both he and Anders opened their mouths to object, "Ye seem to have gotten attached to the MacKay heir. Forget her. I will have other plans for ye."

Sutherland had clearly made up his mind to propose Anders as her betrothed. He was out of other sons who could marry outside the clan. Stellan frowned. There was no other option, given her status— and his own. But as foolish as it felt, he had to try.

"Da—"

"I'll hear nay more about this for today. I have a letter to write. Both of ye, out." He gestured at the door.

Mariota rose from her bath and wrapped herself in the plush robe Nan had found for her, secure in her conviction that she'd been right to leave MacKay, and that luck, or the Celtic gods, or some forest spirit had been with her to guide her right to the Sutherland hunting party. The encounter could have gone very badly for her, she knew, if she'd run into a wild predator, or worse, one that walked on two legs. But the danger she left behind was worth the risk. And now, she was safe and well cared for by genial people, including two of the handsomest lads she'd ever had the pleasure to meet.

But for how long? She started pacing, afraid that the Sutherland would waste no time letting her father know where she was. She should have refused to give her clan name when she stumbled on the Sutherland hunting party. The sudden clench in her belly told her she hadn't run far enough. To Inverness or Sterling, perhaps would have been better. She could still go. There she could disappear, and make a life for herself. And Valkyrie? Nay, that would not work. Perhaps she could convince the Sutherland to keep her presence a secret from MacKay and allow her to stay. If worse came to worst, she could leave her hawk behind and rest easy knowing she would be well cared for.

But if her father came for her, what could she do to protect herself? On a sigh, she stilled, reached for the shift and kirtle Nan had also provided, and dressed. She knew better. Her da would not risk a clan war on her word that she'd been threatened and attacked. He hadn't believed her up to now. Chances were, he was happy she was gone.

Hindsight told her she should have made more of a protest to him. She risked his ire, but she was his heir. He would have to listen to her eventually— preferably not standing over her broken and bloody body. Any of the rest of the clan who observed Alber's behavior could support her claims, explain how she came by the bruises or worse that he inflicted on her. Yet he hadn't believed Seamus. Nor the men who'd dragged Alber down the stairs. She'd never forget the sound of the thumps as he dropped from step to step. Witnesses had done her no good. Why hadn't she shown her bruises to her da? Why hadn't she asked the healer to support her? Her da respected the healer most among all the women of the clan. Mariota clenched her fists. Being the dutiful, submissive daughter had done her no good at all.

Her father also refused to accept and understand her rebellions. Things he would approve of in a son he punished her for. He blamed her instead of the man attacking her. It wasn't fair. If she'd been born a lad, her life would have been so much better. Painful memories threatened to come to the surface, bubbling up from where she'd thought them buried long ago. She quickly put those thoughts aside.

Still, there were advantages to being a lass. Advantages that in hindsight she saw she had used little or not well. Advantages she would be smarter about in the future.

Hindsight had nothing to do with how she felt about the man who'd taken care of her when she stumbled into the Sutherland camp and continued to look out for her. Stellan Sutherland. She could scarce recall the names of the other men in his hunting party. Only him. How ironic that she would encounter one of a pair of twins. She liked both of them. Each had much to recommend him.

Perhaps she'd find some answers if she spent more time with them. Or met more of the Sutherlands— lads and lasses. Stellan might not be the only man in the clan who could make her heart beat faster. Perhaps he was just the one who'd shown her kindness and her traitorous heart mistook that for something entirely different.

Or perhaps not.

Stellan knew he probably shouldn't, but he had to know whether Mariota was comfortably settled in a chamber of her own as befitted a visiting heir to another clan. And to alleviate his concern for her. "Come with me," he told Anders as they crossed the hall toward the steward. "So there's no question of her having been alone with me."

"Aye, two of us in her chamber will appear so much better to the wagging tongues in the keep," Anders chided. "Are ye certain ye want to do this?"

"She's my responsibility." As far as Stellan was concerned, that ended the matter. Anders' shrug indicated he understood. The steward told them where he had placed her, and Stellan led the way upstairs.

He started to knock on the door, but Anders grabbed his forearm before he could make contact. "What if she's asleep? Ye said she was exhausted."

Stellan studied the door, torn between his urge to see for himself that she was well, and his twin's caution that she might be getting the rest she so clearly needed.

Rather than give up, Stellan knocked softly. If she was asleep, she wouldn't hear it, but if she was awake?—

The door opened and Mariota stood before him. His breath seized in his chest for the moment it took him to rake his gaze over her from head to toe. She had bathed and dressed in clean clothes. Hers? Or borrowed from a Sutherland lass? Nan? No matter. Someone had braided her hair. Her mossy eyes, wide with surprise at her unexpected guests, or so he presumed, stopped him from speaking long enough for Anders to step forward.

"We came to see how ye fare," his twin said after a sidelong glance his way. "It seems yer beauty has struck my brother dumb. In case ye canna tell us apart, I'm Anders. He's Stellan."

"The one who brought me here," she said and stepped back, gesturing for them to enter.

"I dinna think we sh—" Anders began to demure when Stellan stepped forward.

"Ye look well," Stellan told her as he took one of the two chairs by her hearth and gestured her to the other. Anders could stand. Struck dumb, his left cod.

She was even more lovely than she had been when she happened upon them. No surprise there. She'd traveled far and had been at the end of her tether. Her determination and bravery in escaping an untenable situation continued to impress him, though he knew venturing out alone in the middle of the night or full daylight— even with her hawk —was a damnably foolish thing for a lass to do.

"Thank ye, I am. The healer visited and pronounced me well enough," she told him. "I require naught but rest to heal."

And protection from the man who chased her from her home, Stellan surmised, but kept the thought behind his teeth. He would not open that wound. If Mariota wanted to talk about it, she would bring it up.

"Yer healer is a formidable woman," she said.

Anders laughed.

"It comes from riding herd on Sutherland men," Stellan replied, "especially those who tend to need her services quite often. My brother and I included."

"Ye have been wounded in battle?" Her hand lifted to her throat.

Stellan liked her show of concern for him. For them, to be sure, but her gaze remained on him.

"Mostly in training, and in the fights two growing brothers indulge in. There's been nay permanent harm to either of us."

She released a breath and nodded. "I'm glad to ken that. If ye dinna mind, I'd like to visit Valkyrie and see how she's settling in."

"I understand," Stellan told her.

"I ken where it is, but I'd feel better if ye would come with me."

She stood, so Stellan rose, too, and gestured to the door Anders had left open. Wise thinking. If anyone passed by, they could see that nothing untoward was taking place.

"I have something to take care of," Anders said as they left her chamber. "So, I'll leave ye to it," he added as she closed the door. "I hope ye will find yer stay here to be all that ye need." He glanced aside at his twin.

Stellan gave him a frown, reading more into his words than Mariota was likely to. Apparently she needed a husband. A Sutherland son for a husband, but not the heir.

He escorted her out of the keep and across the bailey.

Mariota beamed when she saw Valkyrie, sitting calmly, well away from Sutherland birds, jesses securing her to her perch, hood in place but loosened so she could toss it off if she wished.

Stellan was struck by the realization that this was the first fully open smile she'd displayed. It entranced him and made him wish she'd turn it on him. But it faded as he watched to something… less… polite, but not openly glad.

"I appreciate that yer hawk master kept Valkyrie apart from the others. She needs time to settle in to her space. But 'tis clean, warm and dry." She removed the hood and stroked the raptor's head with a careful fingertip.

Though Valkyrie wasn't hooded, and the remains of food she had been given told him the hawk master had done well by her, Stellan knew Mariota was wise to be cautious. Valkyrie might appear calm but in a strange place, being cared for by people she didn't know, she could strike out unexpectedly.

"I'm well pleased," Mariota said as she stroked the raptor. She turned to Stellan. "I canna tell ye how grateful I am to have encountered ye and yer men, and that ye chose to take care of me. To bring me here. I only hope I willna cause strife between our clans."

"If it happens, 'twillna begin with Sutherland," Stellan assured her. Her gaze remained on him, then dropped to her boots. What had made her suddenly shy? He sensed heat between them— his own, certainly, but hers, as well? He could be misinterpreting her gratitude for something entirely different.

"Ye must still be knackered, lass. Now that ye ken Valkyrie is well taken care of, let me return ye to yer chamber. Ye may wish to rest there until dinner."

Her gaze lifted to his and she blushed. "Very well. Thank ye."

Stellan escorted her back into the keep. On the way, he couldn't help replay what he'd learned in the laird's solar from his father. As he introduced her to people they met on the way, he stood aside while they exchanged greetings, thinking he could understand Mariota withholding that she was the MacKay heir. She didn't know him or his men and could have feared being kidnapped, her return contingent on money or some other boon she couldn't count on from a father who had done a poor job of protecting her. As they mounted the stairs to the level where she had a chamber, he wondered if he should confront her about it? Or would he learn more if he waited for her to tell him? And how she chose to tell him?

At her door, they paused and she turned to him. He might be indulging in wishful thinking to presume that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Her gaze remained on him as if she waited for… what? For him to kiss her? To ask to join her in her chamber? Or simply to say something polite and leave her to her rest? Even before he knew she was the MacKay heir, he should have known not to get his hopes up. Her presence here could cause trouble between their clans. After he found out, he knew there was no hope, but somehow, the attraction, or the idea of it, and the idea of holding Mariota again, kept running through his mind. And his blood. He lifted her hand, then dropped it.

"Rest well, lass," he told her and, furious with himself, left her at her chamber door.