The Trouble with Highlanders (9 page)

She smiled at her thoughts and stepped out into the sunlight. The yard was full of Sutherland retainers. They wore their colors proudly and gave their allegiance to their laird without hesitation. There was a marked difference between these men and the ones who had watched Morrell beat her. It was honor, and it flowed from their laird. She had to scan the yard to find Norris, because he was doing exactly what his men were doing. There was no waiting about while his horse was readied for him. No, Norris was reaching beneath the belly of his stallion to check the strap with his hand.

But the man looked at her too confidently. He was too sure of his decision, too secure in the knowledge of his power. He was the heir to the Earldom of Sutherland. She tried not to dwell on that fact. Or on the way his men were all making ready to leave. She stared at the cart, her stomach knotting with something she refused to name, because she couldn't admit she was afraid of him.

You'd be wise to fear him…

Once they made it to Sutherland territory, she'd be at his mercy. No one there would go against the laird. Two of his retainers moved toward her, and she felt like a noose was being knotted around her throat. They tugged on the corners of their bonnets before extending their hands out toward the cart.

She shook her head, not even sure what she was refusing—the cart or the journey, only that every muscle she had was tight with resistance. The retainers looked confused. They glanced back at the cart and tried to decide what her objection was. The cart was wide and had a thick canopy stretched over its top to shield her from the weather. Inside there were plump pillows to keep her from being jostled. There was even a small basket covered with a cloth that no doubt held food and drink. But she shook her head again.

Norris wasn't as focused on preparing his stallion as he appeared to be. The moment she refused to get into the cart, he straightened and bore down on her. She felt him closing the distance between them and had to order herself to stand still, because the urge to retreat was ringing in her ears. He stopped in front of her, clearly battling his temper.

“Ye cannae mean to make me suffer the humiliation of going home with ye.” Daphne insisted, disliking just how close her tone was to pleading.

He stepped past her, captured her wrist, and tugged her along behind him until they'd reentered the keep. They were in the entryway, where the stairs led to the chambers above and doorways opened to the hall and armor room. Women were working at the hearth, the muffled sounds coming from the great hall, but for the moment they were alone.

“Do ye think I'll leave ye here to sneak into the kitchen and brew yerself some concoction that will kill me seed?”

She jerked her wrist out of his grip and frowned when she realized he allowed her to escape. “That is me right, and I'd think ye'd thank me for nae trying to attach meself to ye like a leech.”

He grinned at her, surprising her with how cheerful he seemed in the face of her temper. He'd been raised to expect obedience as his due. Father Peter could sentence her to time in the stocks for forgetting her place. Norris continued to grin.

“Which is exactly why ye are coming home with me, Daphne.”

“I do nae understand ye a bit,” she informed him, exasperated.

He reached out and grabbed a handful of her skirts before she realized his intention. With a steady strength, he pulled her against him, and she realized he was making sure he didn't hurt her by touching her back.

“But ye respond to me, lass, and that is why ye are coming with me.” There was a challenge burning in his green eyes. “Ye turned yer back on me at Sauchieburn, and it has badgered me ever since. So ye're coming home with me where we can take all the time we need to discover just what manner of connection we have.”

He pressed a hard kiss onto her mouth. His lips teased hers for a long moment, sliding along the delicate surfaces and tasting them before he lifted his head.

“I did warn ye, Daphne.” He cupped her hips and turned her around so she was facing the door and the cart. She could still feel him behind her, his warm breath against her neck. Her skin rippled with sensation, far more sensitive than she'd ever known it to be. So quickly, she was reduced to responding to him again.

Just
like
a
spell…

“Run, and I'll run ye to ground. Ye may get into the cart, or I will put ye there.” He kissed the side of her neck, starting a chain reaction of sensations that traveled down her body.

“Aye, I recall yer warning clearly,” she offered, allowing her voice to grow sultry. “But what I'm wondering is just what game are ye playing? Have ye decided to bend me to yer will by using yer position? If so, ye are nae as different from Morrell Comyn as ye would like to believe. Ye are still a man, taking what he believes is his, and I am left feeling like a possession. Something I shall never be content as.”

She had turned to face him, and he considered her from narrowed eyes. “If that were so, lass, I'd happily leave ye here to ensure ye never have a cause to pester me with demands.”

“So why aren't ye?” she demanded. “What is yer game, Norris Sutherland?”

He stepped toward her, meeting her demand head-on, and caught a handful of her skirt once more to keep her in place. “Have ye never considered yerself worthy of being coveted for just who ye be, Daphne?”

Confusion swept through her. “Ye can nae claim affection for me. We've known each other for so little time…”

Yet she'd dreamed of him for what seemed like every night they had been apart. She felt so exposed in that moment, as though he might reach forward and clamp a manacle around her heart. Then she'd be his possession by her own will.

“Such is nonsense,” she announced and pushed him away. As she felt the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand, a little ripple of awareness traveled along her arm. It unleashed a curl of anticipation in her belly, and she failed to hold back the memory of just how intimate it had been to be held against him in the dark hours of the night.

It
had
been
bliss.

He cupped her chin and raised it so their eyes met. There was something burning in those green orbs that promised her that he was willing to challenge her rejections. He leaned down until his warm breath was teasing her lips, tormenting her with the idea of another kiss.

“As I said, lass, I'm taking ye home to see what it is about ye I can nae ignore. If ye want to view that as a demand, well then, I admit to enjoying yer responses to me demands.”

Her jaw dropped open, but at the same time, a flare of heat flashed through her. Part of it was arousal, but the other part was enjoyment. A savage, primitive sort of enjoyment from some part of her she hadn't really realized she had. Deep inside, she was excited by the idea that he couldn't ignore her.

“Ye're a blackguard, Norris Sutherland.”

He chuckled. “Aye, and ye are more than me match, fairy.”

“Oh, now 'tis a fairy I am and nae a witch casting spells over ye?”

He grinned mockingly. “The fae folk are far more mystical and enchanting than a mere witch. Yer brother was right. Ye're a fire fairy.”

“Then best ye mind yer fingers, else ye'll end up blistered,
me
laird
.”

This time he released her when she shoved against him. She stumbled back a step because she'd been pulling away from him so much.

“That's me promise to ye, Norris Sutherland.”

She listened to him laughing all the way to the cart. His men turned to see what amused their laird, and she heard several muffled chuckles too. But the man had admitted he couldn't ignore her, and nothing else seemed to matter.

***

Oh, damn the man and his pride.

Damn
her
for
her
lack
of
willpower…

They were a fitting pair; that much was for certain.

As expected, the cart slowed their pace. For the most part, they traveled by road to accommodate the cart she rode in. It was almost as if he enjoyed having her be seen with him. Those working in the fields stopped to look at them, many tugging on the corners of their bonnets as the son of the great Earl of Sutherland passed. He was more well-known than the king, and since James IV was a boy of only fifteen, Norris was more respected. Of course, there was no way for those passing to know who was in the cart, but they would guess it was a woman.

They'd whisper it was a bride.

She sighed. Well, she'd refused to become a bride once already. She still wasn't sorry; she lamented only the need for her behavior.

Liar. Broen MacNicols never made ye feel like Norris does…

There was a truth in that that colored her cheeks, but what shamed her was the fact that she was so relieved. She might have lived her life never knowing what true passion felt like. Maybe she was mad, for it would make things much easier if there was not such a pull between her and Norris. It wasn't normal. Or at least she suspected many would tell her to resist the attraction.

Her possessions were tied to several horses that followed the cart. Throughout the day they passed fields being harvested. Once they passed beyond MacLeod land, the fields were fuller. She discovered herself looking at the undamaged crops enviously while at the same time battling guilt for having left her people behind to suffer the winter. But her brother looked able to see to the MacLeods, which left her with nothing to contemplate but her own fate. She saw Norris only a few times throughout the day. He took command of his men very personally. The expression on his face was focused and intent. As he moved into different positions throughout the day, he surveyed the lines of retainers and the progress of her cart. There was nothing to do but think, and her mind wanted to dwell on Norris. Which wasn't the brightest idea. She sighed and tried to contemplate something else, but her thoughts returned to where she was bound.

By
his
command.

That part rubbed her temper. It also seemed rather fitting. Father Peter would certainly think so, as well as delight in telling her how her own behavior was to blame for where she had landed.

But just where was she? The man's mistress? No, she wasn't that. His lover? She doubted their nights together entitled her to such a title. His vassal? Yes, but the custom of claiming the laird's daughter on the night of her marriage didn't really apply. Their entire relationship was a contradiction of everything she had been raised to expect from life. Of course, she'd been the one to step off the path of righteous behavior first, but it was very possible Norris had never set a single foot on it himself.

The man was such a blackguard. Yet, she had difficulty labeling him such. He was tender toward her, controlling his strength when there was no one to tell him otherwise. He'd saved her from a loveless marriage too, but taken her virginity as his price. He could have helped her deceive Broen MacNicols, but he hadn't, and she realized it was because he might be a marauder, but he was not a liar. It couldn't have been because he couldn't resist her. To believe such a thing would be arrogant of her, but that left her pondering why he'd offered to help her avoid her wedding at all. Perhaps that was the saving grace of going to Sutherland with him. She just might learn the answer. Even if it cost her her heart along the way.

***

As the afternoon began to wane, some of the men took up their bows to shoot rabbits. They enjoyed keeping count and tied the downed ones to the backs of their saddles. They were farther north, which accounted for the chill once the sun began to set. The retainers buttoned their doublets and sleeves for the first time when they stopped for the night. Daphne crawled out of the cart, determined to stretch out her legs.

Fires were lit, and the rabbits were set to roasting. The scent of smoke tickled her nose. The men joked with one another as they tended to the horses. Norris had stopped them near the bank of a river, nestled next to a rise. She could hear it roaring. The men led their horses down to it to drink before returning and rubbing the animals down. There was ample grass for the animals to graze on, and they began slowly wandering as far as their bridle ropes would allow.

Daphne walked into the trees, seeking privacy. Once she reemerged, she realized she hadn't been as unnoticed as she'd believed. Two younger men were halfway into the trees with their backs to her. They heard her steps and waited to make sure she was returning before looking back at her.

The cart had two wheels. While in motion, it was level. But when the horse had been unhitched, it tilted toward the ground. A pair of men were busy tying the long poles that had secured it to the horse to large rocks. Once they finished, the cart was level again, giving her a very pleasant place to sleep. They pulled the edges of the cover in tighter, to shield against rain, and pulled down two lengths that had been over the top to act as doors. Luxury, indeed.

But before she entered the cart, there was a cry and a flap of wings, and a peregrine falcon landed on one of the canopy poles. It considered her for a long moment from its large, dark eyes then fluffed its feathers and settled down. It was brown with white feathers along its belly and inside its wings. Tied to its ankle was a small leather pouch.

“That is Bacchus. He seems to like ye, which is rare.” Norris informed her as he approached. Already wearing a leather gauntlet, he extended his hand. Between his fingers he held a piece of raw meat. With a soft click, he summoned the falcon. Bacchus jumped onto his arm and took the offered meat with a soft cry.

The peregrine was another blunt reminder of just how much the Sutherlands had. The only purpose the raptor had was to ensure swift communication between Norris and his father.