The Trouble with Highlanders (13 page)

His father was the one person he'd failed to consider as a threat. Norris cursed, realizing the error he'd made. He had a close relationship with his father, which was rare, but that didn't mean his sire wouldn't consider it a duty to the clan to make sure Daphne MacLeod didn't present them with a Sutherland-blooded babe.

“I'd rather nae think our father would do such a thing.” But he could not leave it to chance. “Go and fetch Isla and bring that younger brother of yers too. She'll need someone to watch her back.”

Gahan tugged on the corner of his bonnet, proving he was taking the matter seriously. Norris stood up and went to find his father.

***

“The laird's son would see ye at the high table.”

Daphne jumped, startled by how easily Gahan had appeared close to her. She hadn't heard a sound. The book she'd been reading went flying across the room and skidded to a stop on the stone floor. She blushed, embarrassed to be caught wasting the daylight in the library. But what a library it was. An entire floor of the keep was used to shelve books. The shelves went higher than she might reach without the aid of a ladder. She'd never seen so many books in a single place and had quite simply been draw in.

“I'll escort ye there.”

“Oh… yes.”

Her blush deepened as she realized Gahan was still waiting. He was such an opposite to Norris, with his black hair and dark eyes, but he had similar features. It reminded her of Saer and the fact that most men fancied more than one woman.

Ye
have
no
reason
to
be
jealous.

And yet, she felt unease tugging on her confidence. She followed Gahan down the stairs to the bottom floor of the keep. She'd set off that morning with some notion of exploring but had stopped at the library, only a single story beneath the bedchamber she'd slept in.

And
dallied
in…

Her blush never faded. She ended up appearing in the great hall with her cheeks bright. Dinner would be served soon, and many of the long tables were full of the Sutherland retainers. They were all burly men, proudly wearing the colors of their clan. Younger boys sat halfway down the hall, many of them sporting bruises on their faces from training. Instead of swords, they wore wooden blades across their backs.

Beyond them sat the elders, men who had served the clan and had reached the age where rest was their reward. Scars bore testament to the times they had bled in defense of the castle. Next came the older women or ones heavy with child, who were not expected to help serve the tables. These were only the inhabitants of the castle and the men charged with its defense. Outside the curtain wall, there were homes aplenty where more Sutherland families were having their supper. If there was a threat, the villagers would crowd into the yard to hide behind the curtain wall.

At the end of the aisle was the high table. It sat on a raised platform with huge chairs for those afforded the honor of supping at the earl's table. A large banner with the Sutherland crest was draped from the balcony directly behind the center chair. It glittered with threads containing gold and silver as well as rich, deep colors that were expensive. Lytge Sutherland sat there, watching her. Norris was seated to his right. The hall became as silent as a tomb as she approached.

She stopped at the stairs that led up to the high table and lowered herself.

“Straighten up, lass, I want to get a look at ye.” The earl's voice crackled with age, but his eyes still looked keen and sharp. “Ye are the beauty the rumors claim ye are.” He waved at her. “Turn about.”

There was nothing to do but obey him, though her temper didn't care for it. When she turned, every man in the hall was watching her. She felt their gazes slide along her curves and battled to finish circling all the way around to face the earl once more. Leaving was more to her taste.

“Ye do nae care for me instructions, do ye, Daphne MacLeod?”

The hall was so silent she could hear the wind blowing through the open windows.

“Nae.”

Soft grunts of disapproval met her reply. Behind her, the Sutherland retainers grumbled. But the earl chuckled, his voice crackling as he slapped the table.

“Well… ye are nae a liar. A trait I like.” He pointed at her. “Even if ye are half-starved. Still, the tale of how that came to pass is one I find interesting. Why did ye disrespect yer father and the match he made for ye?”

“Because it was going to cause bloodshed, but he did nae know that when he sent me off to wed.” Her father had been many things, but he had never been cruel. The match with Broen had been designed with alliances in mind.

“Ye do nae think a fortune for yer dowry is worth fighting over?” he demanded.

“Nae.”

The earl was silent for a long moment. “Little wonder ye're half-starved with an attitude such as that. Perhaps the convent was the place for ye.” He looked at Norris for a moment. “Then again, I hear ye have a taste for men.”

“Father,” Norris interrupted softly. She could see the muscle on the side of his jaw was corded, and his hand was tightened into a fist, but that single word was his only argument.

The earl smiled at his son. “If ye did nae want me to hear of it, ye should nae have allowed the king's men to catch ye with her blood on yer sheets.”

“'Twas me choice,” Norris informed his sire firmly.

“And mine,” Daphne added.

“No it was nae,” Norris argued. “I lured ye into me bed.”

“Only because I was nae accustomed…”

“Exactly,” Norris interrupted her. “Now stop arguing with me.”

The earl suddenly slapped the table again and laughed. Daphne realized where Norris had learned to be so arrogant, because the earl laughed long and hard without a care for the fact that everyone was watching him. Lytge was laird of all he surveyed. Yes, Scotland had a king, but the boy was very far away. So far north, the Sutherlands were absolute rulers, and even with gray hair, Lytge didn't lack confidence. He resided over the hall like a king. Norris might be his heir, but he was still bound to obey his father. She'd be a fool to forget that the earl's power was absolute. With a single sentence, Lytge could have her shipped back to MacLeod land.

Wasn't that what she wanted? If so, why did the thought of it send a spike of pain through her heart?

“Ye're a spitfire, all right,” the earl said at last. “I'm tempted to pray ye are with child, for I have no stomach for weaklings. That York-blooded bride was a good match, for her blood was blue, but yers is full of spirit.” He nodded but suddenly lifted one of his aged hands and pointed at her. “Providing ye have the dowry the rumors also speak of.”

“I know nothing of it.”

There were whispers behind her now, and she watched the earl frown. “Then yer child will be bastard born.”

***

The bedchamber she'd been given was a fine one. Among its many luxuries was a full-length mirror like the one her mother had left her. Daphne approached it slowly, wondering just what she wanted to see. Her temper was hot. The scene in the great hall still stung her pride. She smoothed her hands over her belly, flattening the front of her dress. There was no proof she was with child, and yet there was no sure sign she was not.

She looked at her face for the first time in a long time. There had simply been so much to do when she returned home that vanity hadn't been afforded much of her attention. Her cheekbones were harshly defined. Her chemise had a rounded neck, and her collarbones were just as noticeable. Where she noticed the difference was in her breasts. They no longer swelled up when her stays were laced into place.

Norris
had
seemed
to
like
them
well
enough…

Yet his father had described her as half-starved.

“Ye'll gain the weight back easily enough.”

She twisted around at the sound of his voice, sending her skirts swirling up to let the chilly afternoon air at her thighs.

“But nae if ye skip yer meals,” Norris continued. He walked farther into the chamber like he owned it.

He
did. Or at least, one day he would.

“Am I to be afforded no privacy? Nae even a knock upon the door before ye enter?” Her hurt feelings were betrayed by the tone of her voice, further irritating her.

One of his fair eyebrows rose. “From me? Nae. Ye are me personal guest.”

“I have nae agreed to be yer mistress.” She propped her hands onto her hips. “Or do ye demand it of me because ye are me overlord?”

He closed the space between them, sending her heart beating faster. His green eyes were full of promise as he reached out and stroked her cheek. “I demand it because we are drawn to each other.”

“Me cheeks are red because of the humiliation yer father just forced me to endure. But I do nae expect ye to understand, for ye sat there while he declared me sins to one and all.”

“Our sins, Daphne. Do nae forget that,” he warned her. “Or the fact that I made sure everyone knew I considered yer arrival in me bed my doing.”

She bit her lower lip for a moment, shamed that she had overlooked that fact. Norris was using his rank to protect her good name, for there were many who believed in the old customs of allowing the nobles whatever girl they fancied. But she knew she had wanted him just as much.

“I came up here to be done with threats.”

“And to worry that ye are with child,” Norris accused her. “Me silence does nae mean I agree with me father.”

“It does nae matter what it means.” Her voice turned soft as she struggled to mask her hurt feelings.

Norris shook his head. “It matters a great deal to me that me father does nae see me eager to take his place.”

His words cut through her hurt, filling her with remorse. “I did nae think upon it in that manner.”

“Most do nae, but I do.” He nodded. “His days will be done too soon, and I will nae raise me voice above his while there are others listening. Ye may label me a knave, but ye'll nae have reason to call me a disrespectful son or a greedy bastard who cares for his father's title more than his own blood.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She tried to turn away and ended up facing the mirror. Norris stepped right up and wrapped his arms around her, watching her in the polished surface of the glass.

“I came up here to soothe ye, for I could see the hurt in yer eyes. Me father must think of the entire clan, nae just me feelings. He was reminding me that with whom I dally matters. For that, I apologize to ye, lass.”

She quivered, enjoying the idea of what he promised immensely. How long had it been since anyone had soothed her feelings? Not since the night she'd yielded her purity to him.

“Ye did nae need to.”

He pressed a soft kiss against her hairline, just at her temple. A ripple of contentment traveled down her body, and she struggled to hold her emotions in check. She lost the battle, and the tears ran down her cheeks. He kissed one wet trail before moving his head to her opposite cheek to kiss the other.

“Aye, I did because I can nae seem to find the discipline to stay away from ye, when I know it would shield ye,” he whispered. “Do ye think ye are the only one feeling the noose of duty and expectation about yer throat?” He kissed her neck, right where her shoulder began. “Or that ye alone struggle to maintain yer composure while those around ye are telling ye what yer life should be?”

His words were muffled against her skin, but she felt him tremble against her back. She'd never thought of his battling to be an obedient son. She smoothed her hand along his arm, drawing in a deep breath when he tightened his embrace.

He released her instantly. “I forgot about yer back, lass. Forgive me.”

“Ye did nae hurt me,” she assured him.

He moved back a pace, his expression tightening and hiding the tender emotions she'd shared with him so briefly. For a moment, she witnessed something she'd never seen in his eyes. It was the unmistakable sight of vulnerability—but only briefly. The man she knew so well returned, standing firmly in the face of what he felt was his duty. She admired him for it, more so because she knew just how it felt to cast her own feelings aside in favor of doing the best thing for her clan.

“I was foolish nae to understand why ye held yer silence. Ye are a fine son, Norris.”

Something that looked like gratitude flickered in his eyes. It was only a quick look at his deepest feelings before he masked them once again.

“I've someone to introduce to ye.” He let out a sharp whistle.

The doors opened in response. Gahan stood there, along with a female with the same dark hair. She lowered herself before entering the chamber.

“This is Isla, Gahan's half sister,” Norris informed her. “She's to be yer woman.”

“I do nae need—”

“Ye do,” Norris cut her off with a tone that was as solid as steel. “Ye'll go nowhere without her, eat or drink anything she has nae brought to ye. The young pup waiting at the door is Cam, her brother. He's going to help make sure no harm comes to ye.”

“Yer mistress has nae had dinner.” Norris sent them from the chamber with a flick of his fingers. Gahan went too, pulling the doors closed behind him.

Norris cupped her chin. “Do nae challenge me on this, Daphne. Asgree is loyal to me father, and I would nae have a reason to be angry with him.”

He pressed a kiss against her lips, parting them for a moment of bliss. Delight filled her and glowed inside her as he teased the delicate surfaces.

He was gone a second later, the longer pleats of his kilt swaying as he walked toward the doors and whistled. Gahan opened them in time for Norris never to break his stride. She was left marveling at the side of Norris she had just met. She had enjoyed the introduction quite well. But it chilled her too. She turned back to her reflection, looking at the fading bruises along her jaw.