The Trouble with Highlanders (8 page)

“Because ye are afraid to admit how much ye enjoy being in me bed.”

“And did ye nae just get finished warning me that a woman can nae be as stubborn in the pursuit of her desires as a man?”

He began shaking his head. “I meant that warning in regard to riding off without a single man at yer back.” He closed the distance between them again, cornering her against the wall. “Ye need to remember that there are men out there who believe ye are an heiress, and they will nae be kind in their desires to own what ye are rumored to come with. Come home with me. I can protect ye.”

She shook her head, and he cursed. “Why the devil not?”

“Because ye are a temptation I can nae seem to resist. Me brother will see to the protection of his family.”

Norris contemplated her for a long minute. “Yer brother is a savage. I find I like that best about him. Morrell Comyn would do well to stay on his own land. But I confess, I hope he is fool enough to challenge yer brother.”

She felt something tear inside her. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, and she blinked to clear them away. “So, 'tis well enough, and I do thank ye for arriving yesterday.”

“That's yer final word on the matter, Daphne?”

It was a formal request, one spoken in a tone she would have expected to hear in the great hall. She was facing the earl-to-be. The man who commanded one of the largest clans in the Highlands.

“Aye,” she muttered.

“I'll send yer waiting woman to ye. Yer brother is waiting below to meet ye.”

He offered her a slight nod and reached for the door handle to pull it open. Her throat felt like it was swelling shut, but she pressed her lips together to remain silent.

Foolish… so very foolish…

She had to watch him go. Had known it would end no other way.

He
asked
ye
to
join
him…

She couldn't think on that, mustn't. It was too tempting to run after him.

Like so many others. He was the heir to the Earldom of Sutherland. He'd had a mistress since he was old enough to enjoy one and would likely always have one.

She wouldn't be one of them. But not for the reasons the rest of the world would think. They might think she was trying to preserve her virtue or at least maintain the last shreds of dignity she had. The truth was she wouldn't let Norris have her heart. He was already affecting her too much, too deeply.

So very completely.

She couldn't go with him, no matter how much her feelings needled her to change her mind. She drew in a deep breath and went to pull her stockings on. No, she'd remain firm and stay. If she didn't, she'd end up in love with Norris Sutherland.

Which simply could never be.

Her brother was a hard-looking man.

Daphne tried not to think of him as a savage, but she heard it being whispered by the maids near the back of the great hall when she entered. There was something in his dark eyes that made her suspect he heard them. Which wasn't possible, not with the number of people assembled to see the new laird.

Saer was dark haired like his mother. But he had their father's features. He didn't wear a doublet, just a sleeveless jerkin, and his shirt was tied up to bare his arms. Every muscle was defined. His hair was longer than his shoulders, and he had a single braid running down one side to hold it back from his face.

Daphne stopped at the entrance of the great hall, pausing for a moment to regard the son her father had so often lamented not being able to raise. Saer might hate her. He had more than one reason to. She was the child of the woman who had refused to share her castle with his mother, and she was a sister he would now shoulder the burden of either providing for or dowering.

He might send her back to the Church, but even they would not take her without a dowry. She moved forward; she wouldn't know until she faced him. Norris stood beside Saer, making it clear who had the Sutherlands' support as laird.

She stopped at the steps leading up to the platform where the high table sat and lowered herself. Daphne remained still, waiting for her brother to raise her. There were muffled whispers behind her, but she waited, making it clear she accepted Saer as her laird.

Good. That was what the MacLeods needed. Unity and an end to all the uncertainty.

“Ye are as delicate as a fairy.”

Daphne straightened up instantly.

“But a fiery one by the look on yer face,” Saer continued.

“Yer sister has a stubborn nature,” Norris agreed. “She follows her whims no matter the consequences.”

“If that were so, ye would nae be asking for me assistance,” Saer boldly countered. They were a good match for each other. Both of them taller than the average man, with thick muscles attesting to just how accomplished they were at doing things for themselves. Neither man took his position for granted.

“I do nae need to ask yer permission,” Norris remarked with unmistakable authority.

“But many would say I'm a savage from the isles who does nae understand anything of loyalty,” Saer replied softly.

For a moment, tension filled the hall. Saer and Norris stared each other down while the MacLeods looked on.

“Even if that were so, ye'd still understand the importance of keeping blood close,” Norris informed him.

Gahan had stepped up behind his laird, while another man with a dark scar running down his right cheek stood behind Saer.

Her brother turned to look at her. “I understand ye refused to swear to Comyn, and yer back is as battered as yer face because of it.”

“Yes,” she answered. “Fairies are creatures of the land and therefore hearty.”

Saer chuckled. He shared an amused look with Norris. “I believe it is going to be greatly amusing to hear ye thank me for granting ye yer wish, because me sister is going to make ye sorry.”

Norris smiled slowly and with a great deal of satisfaction. He turned his attention to her, and her knees threatened to give way. He looked like he'd won some victory, one that pleased him greatly.

“Set yer woman to packing yer things, Daphne. Ye'll be returning to Sutherland with me.”

“I will nae.” For a moment she forgot where she was. The sound of disapproving grunts reminded her instantly that so many were watching.

Father Peter would have her in the stocks before midday. Even that idea wasn't enough to make her lower herself. She glared at Norris, refusing to give him even a nod.

“There is nae reason for me to go with ye,” she insisted.

His smile never faded; it just became more menacing. “Do ye deny sharing yer bed with me two nights past, Daphne MacLeod?”

He was adding her last name to ensure everyone heard and understood. Her checks burned scarlet, but she refused to lower her chin. Maybe he was the heir to the most powerful earldom in the Highlands, but she did not belong to him.

Saer added his own demand. “Answer the question, Sister. Is the man telling me the truth?”

Gahan stepped to the side, making to place himself between Saer and Norris.

“Hold,” Norris told his man. “It's the God-given right of every man to fight for the honor of his sister.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Daphne exploded. “There will be no fighting on me account.” She shot Norris a scathing look. “Aye. Ye were in me bed two nights past,
me
laird
.”

“Then the man has the right to insist ye travel with him,” Saer informed her. “Even if I have little liking for the insinuation that I can nae protect what is mine.”

“As I do nae appreciate hearing ye question me motives for taking yer sister with me. A Sutherland should be born on Sutherland land,” Norris remarked. “Naught was said of yer lack of ability. I'm no sniveling Englishman to offer insults through veiled pleasantries.”

Norris stared at her brother for a long moment before her brother nodded. “In the short time I've known ye, that seems to be true enough. But it is still less than complimentary that ye feel the need to take me sister with ye.”

“Actually, it is a compliment.”

There were more than a few dry chuckles in response. Daphne lost control over her temper.

“No, it is nae. Besides, ye could send word to him if I'm”—she forced the word past her lips—“carrying.”

“The decision is made.” Norris spoke loudly enough for even the kitchen boys to hear him. “We leave within the hour.”

Norris turned and walked away, and Saer followed him. Daphne found herself standing in the center of her own people as they watched her curiously. The men fingered their beards, contemplating her, while the women leaned close to whisper in one another's ears. Father Peter stood off to the side, his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his church robe.

It was Gitta who cupped her shoulders and turned her around. The kind touch broke through the shock paralyzing her.

Which allowed her temper to blaze with full fury.

***

“What is on yer mind, Laird?” Gahan asked the question the moment Norris took his leave of Saer. They were alone for a few moments while they walked through the stone hallways of the back of the keep. It was dark and musty in the passageway, the stone keeping the sun far away.

“That there is bound to be turmoil here as the new laird takes his place,” Norris offered.

His half brother cut him a hard look. “She's his sister. 'Twas her father who sent the man away. If he's intent on holding a grudge, she'll have to weather it.”

“She comes,” Norris insisted quietly. “Make sure there is a cart for her. She'll nae be able to ride with her back black and blue.” He stopped and sent Gahan a hard look. “And I do nae want to discuss me choice again.”

There were few men who wouldn't have backed off at that moment. Norris knew their reasons. Some valued their position more than their pride, while others had families to provide for. Gahan stared him straight in the eye without flinching.

“The girl has been under yer skin since Sauchieburn.”

Norris started moving again. “I'm nae saying why she comes, only that she does.”

“A cart will slow our pace.”

“Aye, it will,” Norris muttered. “But 'tis nae her choice, 'tis mine.”

Gahan nodded and fell into step behind him. The passage gave way to the main yard. Norris's retainers were there, checking their horses. A two-wheeled cart was hitched to a sturdy-looking horse. It would slow them down, and many of his men were eyeing it, disgruntled.

***

“Everything will be well.” Gitta cooed like a mother trying to soothe her child. “He'll see ye have everything ye need.”

Maids were bumping into one another as they tried to bundle Daphne's belongings. Gitta helped her into a sturdy wool dress that would travel well and keep her warm. Her old nurse draped a length of MacLeod plaid over her shoulder and sniffled as she secured it around her waist with a belt. The wool was pleated across her back, with a portion of it held on her right shoulder with a brooch. The arisaid would help keep her warm, and she could raise the portion draped across her back to cover her head for warmth or shelter from rain. The English scorned the garment, because it wasn't really a garment at all, simply a length of wool. But it was a traditional garment that reached back into centuries past—a Highland tradition.

“We'd best go now.”

Too soon, they were on the bottom floor of the tower. Her brother stood there, his man at his back. Saer sent Gitta away with a flick of his fingers.

“The man is me overlord, and fighting with him will nae be good for any of us,” Saer offered, but she could hear the discontentment in his voice. There was a hope in his dark eyes, one that sent a chill down her spine because she realized her brother wasn't very content with what Norris had demanded of him. Saer wouldn't loathe fighting him over it, if she gave him reason. But her brother was a hardened man too.

“I agree, ye have enough battles here and do nae need any with the Sutherlands. 'Tis a pitiful inheritance ye have come home to shoulder.”

Saer lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “Did ye lay with him of yer own will?”

It wasn't what she'd expected to hear. Shock held her silent for a long moment.

“If not, I'll gladly run him through,” her brother offered quietly, proving she'd judged him well.

“He's yer overlord. Ye'll have enough trouble trying to feed yer clan this winter.”

“Ye're me blood,” Saer answered. “Me only blood. Me mother taught me a thing or two about how to weather hard times. Did he rape ye?”

She shook her head.

“Demand ye submit because of his position?” Saer continued, determination flickering in his eyes.

Her cheeks heated as her memory offered up a perfect recollection of just how much Norris had demanded of her.

And
ye
demanded
just
as
much
in
return…

She shook her head again.

“Keith told me of how yer betrothal was broken.” Instead of scorn, she heard a note of appreciation in Saer's voice.

“Aye. I disgraced meself.”

Her brother snorted and grinned. “The way I heard the tale, ye saved yerself from a union that was destructive to peace. Ye do look like a delicate fairy, but ye have something solid inside ye. I admire that. No boy king should be telling ye whom to give children to. 'Tis a gift a woman should have the right to decide whom she bestows it on.”

“And do ye intend to choose yer bride by which woman will decide she likes ye?”

Saer smirked at her, looking just as bold as Norris so often did. “When I find the one I want, I plan to kiss her until she yields, just as Norris Sutherland seems to have done with ye. Ye look at him like a woman who knows what she likes in her bed.”

“I have known no other man except him.”

Her brother laughed at the stunned look on her face. “Go on, but know ye are always welcome here.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she enjoyed the feeling, because it had been too long since she had felt the closeness of family.

“Ye are nae quite the savage everyone whispers ye are.”

His grin widened, and his teeth flashed. “Yes, I am. Never doubt that, Sister, for I plan never to change.”

“Careful. Father Peter likes to hand out stiff penances for pride,” she warned him.

“It is nae pride, Sister, 'tis who I am,” Saer informed her with a wink. “Better the fine servant of the Church save his prayers for those who wrong me, because I will have no mercy on them.” His gaze settled on one of her bruises. “Father Peter can begin with Morrell Comyn, for I've a score to settle with the man. While I am laird of the MacLeods, no man steals from us or touches me kin.”

His teasing nature had turned cold, giving her a brief glance of the man who had survived in exile on the isles. He was ruthless, but seeing it gave her solace. The people she'd tried so hard to shepherd in the last month would not suffer under his leadership. Even if the days were hard, she believed he would be strong enough to see them through the coming year.

“There is much for ye to do, Saer. The crops will be poor, and there is no fleece. The men went off to fight at Sauchieburn instead of doing the shearing.”

He continued to stare at her with solid confidence in his dark eyes. “Have faith, Sister. I'll make sure no one starves. Besides, the wool would have been stolen if it had been sheared. Now the sheep will be warm and happy through the winter. Come spring, they will be glad to be rid of their bulk. The land will yield what we need to survive. Trust that I know a thing or two about how to find enough.”

Someone cleared his throat, and they looked up to see Gahan standing in the doorway. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet in respect. Saer's eyes narrowed, and he nodded in return. He shot her a firm look and raised his voice so Gahan could not mistake his words.

“But remember what I told ye. There is a home for ye here. No matter the circumstances ye discover yerself in. Ye will be welcome beneath this roof.”

***

She was shocked—but in a good way. The feeling was warm and secure, and for a few moments she lingered there, just enjoying knowing she had a place to call home.

It seemed like it had been forever since she had left for her wedding to Broen MacNicols and ended up taking refuge in a convent. It had been a full year, yet it felt much longer, for she was not the child who had left home. Was she a woman?

Norris
has
certainly
treated
ye
like
one…