CLAIMED BY A HIGHLANDER (THE DOUGLAS LEGACY Book 2) (2 page)

“Who are they?” he asked in a whisper.

“That one is the new Douglas chieftain, and the one next to him is his brother,” she said, pointing a thick finger at two black-haired men, neither of which looked much over twenty. “Their father was killed with the king at Flodden, and their grandfather, old Bell the Cat, died last week, making young Archibald here the earl.”

Rory had never met Archibald Douglas, but he had once caught a glimpse of the beautiful Douglas sisters riding through Edinburgh. He smiled to himself, remembering a giggling young lass with flashing blue eyes and hair as black as a moonless night.

“They say this young Douglas chieftain is ‘comforting’ our grieving queen,” Mattie said, drawing Rory’s attention back to the present. “I believe the other men at the table are Boyds and Drummonds, close kin of the Douglases.”

Archibald Douglas must have heard her speak this time, for he shifted his gaze to the doorway and called out, “Who’ve ye brought us, Mattie?”

Rory stepped into the room with no notion of how this night would change his fate.

CHAPTER 1

March 1522

Kilspindie Castle,

Twenty miles from Edinburgh

Sybil set her sketch aside and covered her face with her freezing hands. She wished someone would come and spirit her far away, out of the queen’s reach. She was furious with her brothers for abandoning her. After sending reassurances for months and ordering her to wait for them here at her uncle’s castle, they and her uncle had escaped to France, leaving the rest of them to the queen’s mercy. As if that spiteful woman had any.

A shadow fell over her.
How did James find me out here?
She had not left the warmth of her uncle’s hall to sit under this tree on the frozen ground because she wanted company. Particularly his.

“I thought ye left, James,” she said, still keeping her hands over her eyes. “I told ye I won’t do it, so go.”

When she did not hear James walk away, Sybil was tempted to kick him. Exasperated, she dropped her hands—and sucked in her breath.

A huge Highland warrior stood over her. Her heart thumped wildly as she dragged her gaze from his giant sword, the tip of which rested mere inches from her foot, to the dirks and axe tucked in his belt, and then to his broad, muscular chest. She had not yet reached his face when he spoke in a deep voice that seemed to make the ground vibrate beneath her.

“My name is MacKenzie,” he said. “I’ve come for ye.”

Come for her? Sweat prickled under her arms. The queen had found her.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she said. “What are the charges against me?”

The Highlander merely grunted and held out his hand. She ignored it and forced herself to raise her gaze to his face. Despite the fierce green eyes that were locked on her like a wild cat who has found his prey, the wholly irrelevant thought that he was exceedingly handsome sprang into her head. He was young, with strong, masculine features, and she knew ladies at court who would kill to have that shade of auburn hair.

“We must go,” he said, which jarred her attention back to the danger she was in.

“Do I not merit a full escort?” she asked, attempting to put on a brave front. No matter how formidable this MacKenzie was, it was odd that the queen would send a lone man to fetch her.

“’Tis easier to escape notice if we travel alone,” he said.

Her jaw dropped. “Escape?”

“Aye,” he said. “We must hurry, lass.”

“I thought everyone had deserted us.” Tears sprang to her eyes. So many had called her friend just a few weeks ago.

“Not everyone has,” he said, still holding out his hand.

She was tempted to pick up her skirts and run away with this stranger, but she had learned as a young girl not to be so trusting.

“Did James send you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the tall Highlander.

“Who the hell is James?”

She waved off the question. “Just tell me who sent you.”

“No one sent me,” he said, sounding insulted. Then he dropped to one knee, and she received the full benefit of his face up close. He was dangerously handsome.

“Who are you?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

“Your husband, Rory Ian Fraser MacKenzie,” he said. “I’ve come to claim ye.”

Alas, this Highlander had not come for her after all. “A damned shame,” she murmured to herself.

“That’s foul language for a lady,” he snapped. “And whether ye like it or no, we have a marriage contract.”

Since couples sometimes did not meet until their wedding, Sybil was not shocked that the Highlander did not know his bride by sight. She was sorely tempted not to reveal that he had the wrong lass until they were miles away. But when he learned the truth, he’d probably dump her by the side of the road.

“I fear you’ve made a mistake,” she told him.

“Most certainly,” he said in a clipped tone. “But I’m obligated all the same. A MacKenzie does not go back on his word.”

“That is refreshing in a man,” she said. “But what I meant is that I’m not who ye think I am.”

***

What in the hell was he doing here? He should have torn the marriage contract to pieces long ago. He was only, what, sixteen when he signed it? Scottish kings renounced commitments they made in their minority all the time, so why shouldn’t he?

Rory’s gaze drifted over the lass again.
Ach
, but she was bonny. From the moment he first spied her sitting under the tree, he had known it was his her, and she had taken his breath away. But then she had covered her lovely face, and he took in the jeweled fingers, delicate slippers, and rich velvet cloak. The last thing he needed was a Lowland court creature for a wife.

No doubt the Douglas chieftain had regretted making the agreement even more than he had. Many times over the last eight years Rory had planned to make the long journey to the Douglas lands to advise Archibald that he was willing to set their agreement aside. But somehow the time had never seemed right. He had finally come to settle the matter because he needed to free himself to wed.

And now, he could not.
Damn it.
This threw off all his plans.

If only he had acted sooner. When he reached Stirling, Rory heard the news of the Douglases’ fall from grace and knew he had lost his chance. He could not desert the lass now that the men of her family had been charged with treason and fled the country.

“Perhaps I can help,” she said, interrupting his sour thoughts. “Who is the lass you’re looking for?”

It annoyed him that his betrothed found it so difficult to believe he had come for her. Clearly, she thought him unworthy.

“My contracted bride is Lady Sybil Douglas,” he said, drawing her name out, “granddaughter of the famed Douglas, Bell the Cat, and sister of the present chieftain and earl, Archibald Douglas, who is also the widowed queen’s husband.”

When she stared at him with wide eyes the color of violets, Rory’s heart seized in his chest. Their vivid color contrasted with her midnight-black hair, ivory skin, and full red lips.

“You’re even prettier than before.” He never spoke without meaning to, and yet the words tumbled out of his mouth without passing through his head.

“I’m certain we’ve never met,” she said in an arch tone.

They had not met, but he had seen her once a long time ago riding through Edinburgh with her sisters. She was not that young girl anymore. Rory tried and failed to keep his gaze from drifting to her lush breasts and the round curve of her hips. She was a woman who could fill a man’s hands. The kind he liked.

“And we are not betrothed,” she said. “If we were, I would have been told.”

No doubt he was not the husband she expected. His boots and plaid were muddy from the long journey in the winter rains. Even without the mud, he was nothing like the Lowland courtiers she was accustomed to have fawning over her.

“Here’s the marriage contract with your brother’s signature.” He pulled out the parchment he’d carried inside his shirt all the way from Kintail, thrust it into her hands, and tapped his finger on the sprawling signature at the bottom.

When her eyes began moving from line to line, Rory was impressed that the lass could read. Her mouth fell open as her gaze traveled down the page.
Ach
, every move the lass made was seductive. When she finished reading, she fixed those violet eyes on him again.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “How did ye get my brother to sign this?”

“We were gambling, and he ran out of coin.”

“Gambling?” she said, her voice rising. “My brother gave me away in a card game?”

Rory shrugged. “He didn’t expect to lose.”

The lass opened her mouth but words seemed to fail her for a time. Finally, she said, “But he never loses.”

“He did that time.”

“I don’t believe it. When did this happen?” she fired at him, then returned her gaze to the parchment. Her eyes flew back to him. “Eight years ago?”

“Aye,” Rory said. “’Twas not long after Flodden.”

“You signed a contract to marry me,” she said, her voice steadily rising in volume and pitch, “and waited
eight years
to claim me?”

“Your brother said ye were too young, and I should wait a bit.”

“I’ve been grown up for quite some time,” she bit out. “In any case, I will not be your wife. This marriage contract is—”

“Look, lass, we can decide later whether we wish to abandon the agreement, so long as we haven’t yet consummated the marriage…” As he said the words, his gaze fell to her breasts again, and he lost track of what he meant to say. He gave his head a shake. What was wrong with him? This was no time to let himself become distracted, but with all the blood rushing to his cock, he could not think.

“You’re telling me that I’m to put my life in the hands of a complete stranger, a wild Highlander at that,” she said, “and we’ll sort things out later?”

“The royal guard is coming for ye,” he said. “If ye wish to escape, we must leave
now
.”

Sybil leaped to her feet. When Rory saw how all the color had drained from her face, he regretted his bluntness. But now that she finally appeared to understand the urgency of her situation, she made her decision quickly.

“I’ll have the servants pack my trunks at once,” she said. “How large is your carriage?”

“Carriage? There are no roads where we’re going, lass,” he said. “And we’ve no time to fetch your things.”

“But…I can’t just disappear!” Sybil, who had questioned him so coolly before, looked frantic now. “My little cousin will worry. I must tell her where I’m going.”

“You’ll tell no one,” he said. “Someone in this household sent word to the queen that ye were here.”

“That would be my uncle’s vile wife,” Sybil said between tight lips, then she took a deep breath. “I’ll use my drawing paper to write a note so my cousin won’t fret.”

Rory tamped down his impatience while he scanned the hills in the direction of Edinburgh. Sybil came up behind him. By the saints, the first his wife touched him was to use his back as a damned table.

“I have been rescued,” she said aloud as her quill moved across his back. “Do not worry. Will send word when I am able. Love always, S.”

She folded the parchment and set a rock on top of it at the base of the tree.

“We’ve tarried too long,” Rory said, and lifted her onto his horse.

He was going to regret this. He already did. Yet, when he swung up behind Sybil and pulled her tight against him, his heart raced.

And it had nothing to do with the twenty riders who had just crested the hill.

CHAPTER 2

The Highlander moved so quickly that Sybil found herself sitting astride his horse before she knew how she got there. She sucked in her breath when he swung up behind her.

“Hold on,” he said, his breath in her ear.

An instant later, the horse bolted forward. The Highlander leaned low over her, encircling her so that every part of her was touching brawny man as they sped into a gallop
.

Good heavens, she was riding off with a stranger. This was bold, even for her. Perhaps she should go back…

When she turned to look behind them, her heart went to her throat. A long line of riders was heading for the castle.

“Those are royal guards—I can see their banner,” she said, peeking between the Highlander’s arm and his chin. “God no, they’re turning! They’re following us!”

“Keep your head down, damn it,” he said. “They have archers with them.”

No sooner had he spoken than an arrow zipped past his arm and between the horse’s ears. The Highlander curled his body around hers in a gallant effort to protect her as another arrow whizzed over their heads.

“How dare they?” she said. “The fools could hit us!”

The queen was angry, but she would not want her men to
kill
Sybil. Surely not.

She heard a
thunk
.