Highland Hellion Read online

  Katherine shuffled up the stairs, feeling all eyes on her and blushing because she was so ungraceful in the gown she wore. The lessons of her childhood paled against the reality of dealing with a boned farthingale and two skirts that had more fabric in them than anything she’d ever worn.

  Two Lindsey women leaned over behind her and tugged the whole ensemble up when she sat down, tucking the fabric around her before two retainers pushed her chair forward toward the table.

  “So lovely to see yer mother’s dress being used.”

  It was the Head of House who spoke, and she sent a firm look straight at Duncan that made the man pause. Katherine gained a rare glimpse of the burly Highlander being taken down a peg before he masked his emotions and resumed offering the first toast to them.

  The music was a fine treat, and servant after servant presented trays loaded with meat, fruit, cheese, and other delights.

  Rolfe looked toward her after she stopped eating. “Ye do nae care for the fare?”

  She discovered her breath catching. Suddenly, she was unbearably conscious of the fact that he had the right to touch her, and the rather firm knowledge that she wanted him to exercise that right.

  He pointed at a platter, and a maid hurried over to carry it to him.

  “No, really, I cannot eat another bite.”

  “Ye’ve barely touched yer supper.” Rolfe contemplated her plate. “Me reputation could use a bit of a shine from everyone saying I made ye forget to eat in yer haste to get to the bedchamber, but—”

  She lifted her hand and delivered a light blow to his arm in reprimand. “Honestly,” she said under her breath. “Keep talking like that, and you will spend your wedding night in the stocks for pride.”

  Rolfe grinned at her and pointed at something off to her left. When Katherine turned her head, she caught sight of the clan priest. He had his head tipped back to empty his mug, and when the man finished, he licked his lips, to the delight of those sitting near him. A maid was already lifting a pitcher to refill the man’s mug when he started singing.

  “The man seems to feel morality has been well and truly served by our wedding.” Rolfe spoke close to her ear.

  Katherine shivered at the feeling of his breath against her skin, and he reached out and stroked the gooseflesh that rose along her neck. She felt her eyes widen as she locked gazes with him, lost in some sort of connection that made everything around them disappear.

  A loud burst of laughter broke the spell. Duncan Lindsey was out of his chair and pounding on the tabletop with his fist.

  “The lass is finished eating, Rolfe!” Duncan declared in a voice that shook the rafters. “Only a fool would argue with her about lingering at the table!”

  The hall erupted into merriment. Men tipped their heads back as they laughed, and women shot her knowing looks. A few of them were downright catty as they cast longing glances toward Rolfe, making it plain they envied her.

  “Off to bed with ye!” Duncan declared with a raised mug.

  Katherine felt her eyes widen at the blunt mention of what her night would include, but she had little time to linger over it as her chair was pulled back and she was lifted right out of it. The Lindsey retainers never let her feet touch the floor, hoisting her high above their heads and carrying her toward the passageway, to the delight of the Lindseys watching.

  But she was happy enough to go, because the suggestions being called out set her cheeks on fire more than the fact that she was being taken abovestairs to consummate her vows.

  The Lindsey women weren’t going to be left out of the fun, either. They flooded the chamber, taking delight in kicking the men out before they turned on her.

  “Let’s get ye out of that dress.”

  “Aye, ’twould be a terrible shame if it were to be torn.”

  “No man knows how a fine dress like that is laced.”

  “It would be damaged for certain.”

  “And ye do nae need it anymore.”

  Katherine twisted and turned, but they still managed to get at the lacing that went down the back of the dress. They laughed at her as they lifted the bodice away, and Katherine felt hands on the hooks that secured the waistband.

  “I really can tend to myself,” she implored them.

  “Nonsense,” an older woman said from where she stood supervising the entire madness. “A dress like that, well now, it’s a noble one. Ladies do nae do anything themselves.”

  “English ones,” someone added as the overskirt came free and was taken across the chamber.

  “My stepmother ran the house,” Katherine said.

  Some of the women stilled, fixing her with critical looks.

  Katherine merely shrugged. “From what I recall, she kept the books and oversaw the kitchens and social events as well as keeping up with correspondence.”

  “Sounds as though she set a decent example for ye,” the woman in front of her offered before she snapped her fingers and pointed at the underskirt. “But did she tell ye what yer duties are as a wife?”

  There was more than one giggle in response as the women took away the underskirt and Katherine’s farthingale puddled around her ankles when the drawstring was released. Her hip roll was next, leaving her in her corset, smock, and stockings.

  “I know what…well…how it all fits together.”

  There was a fresh round of amusement at her expense as the women took to pulling every last hairpin from her hair.

  “If a lass is lucky, it fits together very nicely.”

  “I’d enjoy having Rolfe McTavish fit his parts to mine, and that’s a fact.”

  “All right then.” The woman in front of Katherine raised her voice, and there was the unmistakable ring of authority in her tone. “Enough of that. Ye’ve had yer fun. Off with ye.”

  There were sounds of disappointment, but the chamber began to empty, making Katherine realize how tightly she was clenching her fists. Her fingernails had pressed deep into the skin of her palms.

  The older woman waited until the rest of the Lindsey women were gone. She offered a kindly smile before she picked up a comb from the dressing table and came toward Katherine.

  “There is no shame in admitting ye do nae know what is to come tonight.” She was pulling the comb through Katherine’s hair, sparking a memory from a time when her own mother had once done so for her.

  So very long ago.

  “I know,” Katherine said softly, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. “The MacPhersons allowed me to train, and, well…”

  “Ye think ye heard everything there is to know?” The woman continued to comb. “Mind ye, if yer groom treats ye as men talk in the yard, I’ll have the laundress pour salt in his washing.”

  “Salt?” Katherine turned a questioning look toward her.

  The woman offered her a knowing smirk as she extended the comb. “Makes the fabric itch, especially on the tender spots beneath a man’s arms and at the back of the neck. A gentle reminder that while a man is master of his house, only a woman can make it into a home.”

  She moved behind Katherine and began to work at the lace holding the corset tight. “Little wonder ye were finished eating. I have no idea why ladies wear these. If you’re fortunate, you won’t be able to fit in it come summer’s end.”

  The woman eased the corset down Katherine’s arms and knelt to untie one garter and then another. Her stockings slipped down as soon as they were free.

  She hadn’t thought about children.

  Of course that was a duty of a wife, but she had not truly contemplated what it would mean to force her blood onto a child.

  Was it cruel?

  There was a rap on the door as the woman stood and nodded at Katherine’s undressed state. Only her smock remained.

  “That will be the midwife.”

  The chamber door opened, and t
wo older women looked in. The woman in front of Katherine waved them forward.

  “Off with that smock now.”

  Katherine gripped it instead, which earned her a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s better ye are inspected,” the woman said softly. “Especially with ye being English and yer groom no’ having the blessing of his father.”

  Katherine felt her mouth go dry. She had failed to consider just how easy it would be for Laird McTavish to annul the marriage. The women took advantage of her shock, pulling her last garment from her. She felt her hair flutter down to lie against her bare back as the two midwives lifted candles from the tables and brought them close.

  They missed nothing, lifting her hair so that every inch of her back was seen. She felt the heat of the candle flame when they brought it close to check for witch marks or hidden nipples where she might suckle a demon. There was safety in submitting to the examination, and yet she felt unbearably exposed. The moment they nodded with satisfaction, Katherine plucked her chemise out of the first woman’s hand and put it on.

  There was a little sound of amusement from one of the midwives.

  “Ye’re no wanton,” the other said with a nod.

  “Come.” The first woman was standing near the bed, with the bedding pulled down. “Yer groom will be on his way soon.”

  Katherine slid into the bed, feeling none of the comfort of the fine sheets. There was a teasing scent of rosemary and amber, sprinkled about for fertility and good fortune. The three women contemplated her before nodding again.

  “Good night to ye.”

  * * *

  Duncan slapped a book down on the table in front of Rolfe.

  “There ye are, lad. Just what ye’ll need tonight.”

  Rolfe cocked his head to the side and sent his friend a glare. Duncan wasn’t impressed at all. He wiped his mouth with a linen before scooping up the book and opening it to a random page.

  “English ladies enjoy poesy,” he said.

  There was a round of laughter in response.

  “Ye’ll likely have to read her most of this book to win her over.” Duncan was searching through the pages.

  “Be lucky to deflower her before dawn!” someone called out.

  “Can’t be showing her too much strength, or she’ll wilt dead away!”

  “A sleeping wife is no fun to tumble at all!”

  Rolfe growled and started to stand. “I bid ye all good night.”

  He really should have been less trusting of his friend, because the moment he was on his feet, a plaid was tossed around his body and pulled tight.

  “Duncan!”

  “No need to thank me,” his friend responded through his mirth. “Ye’d do the same for me.”

  “I’ve a long memory,” Rolfe growled. “Ye can bet I will.”

  His struggles were in vain. The Lindseys had him surrounded and were rolling him in yards and yards of wool while Adwin looked on with a huge grin.

  “A fine wedding present, the wool,” Duncan replied. “Since yer bride retired so early, it’s best ye take it on up to…her…”

  Duncan was nearly doubled over with laughter. There was so much fabric that Rolfe was swaddled like a babe and reduced to glaring at his friend. The Lindsey retainers were clustered around him, admiring their work. The fabric was twisted around him from neck to ankles, so that he didn’t dare move or he risked breaking his nose when he fell to the floor.

  “Thank ye,” Rolfe ground out. “I promise”—he stressed the word promise—“I’ll no’ be forgetting yer gesture.”

  Duncan heard him loud and clear but only grinned in cocky amusement as the Lindsey retainers hoisted Rolfe high and began to carry him toward his bride.

  * * *

  Katherine was out of the bed the moment the women left her alone.

  You are being silly…

  Perhaps, but there was no way she could stay in the bed, just waiting for Rolfe to come and find her there. So she opened a wardrobe and found a length of Lindsey plaid. She wrapped it around herself as she pinched out several of the candles near the bed to decrease the light, in case the Lindseys decided to escort Rolfe to his nuptial chamber with the same amount of zeal as they had her.

  The wedding dress was lying across several chairs. It shimmered in the candlelight, the soft silk looking like something from a child’s dream. She moved toward it, gently stroking it with a single fingertip. There had been a time when she’d looked at her stepmother’s collection of dresses and wistfully longed to wear such finery.

  She didn’t lament the past few years in Scotland. For certain, her life was nothing like those dreams, but she could never have imagined the adventures that she had been on.

  And tonight?

  Well, it was another sort of adventure, to be sure.

  She became aware of the sound of men coming up the stairs. Her heart started to accelerate, making her breathing harsh. There was a rap on the door before it burst open, and she watched as at least fifteen Lindsey retainers came through the door in one mass, a chuckling, kilt-clad bunch.

  They labored to haul something between them and left it in the middle of the receiving chamber.

  “Night, ma’am.”

  “Felicitations!”

  “Pleasant…rest…”

  “Get out, the lot of ye savages.” Adwin followed his order with a couple of kicks at the backsides of the men who were a bit slower in their obedience.

  The chamber door was shut with a very firm sound that she felt as well as heard.

  For it left her very much alone with her groom.

  * * *

  “I wondered…when ye’d come for me.”

  Colum Gordon’s voice crackled with age, but there was a clear note of victory in it. Tyree moved closer, noting the glitter of satisfaction in the old man’s eyes.

  “Always glad to be of service,” Tyree said mockingly.

  Colum’s attention flickered to the pillow Tyree had in his fist. “I stopped sleeping in the bed years ago,” he continued. “Because I knew one of ye would try to smother me.”

  Tyree grinned. “Easy enough in a chair.”

  He tightened his grip on the pillow and raised it.

  “No’ as easy as ye think, lad.”

  Tyree froze. Diocail’s voice came from the far corner of the laird’s chamber. As he watched, Diocail emerged from behind a tapestry.

  Colum chuckled. “I still have loyal men who will no’ allow ye to murder me.”

  “Loyal?” Tyree questioned. “He allowed the witch to escape.”

  Colum’s face tightened. “Is that true?”

  Diocail came closer and braced his feet shoulder-width apart. “It is.”

  Colum tried to say something but ended up hacking.

  “And I will no’ apologize,” Diocail continued once his laird had quieted. “She was no’ a witch, and I will no’ feed the hunger for witch-hunting. ’Tis a nasty thing, that, breeding fear in folks who would have otherwise had the good sense no’ to see the hand of Satan where there is only the unfairness of life. The Gordons do nae need to be suspicious of one another. Before ye fault me for me actions, remember who is here to defend ye and who has come to further his own lot by snuffing out yer life.”

  Colum had been digging his fingers into the padded armrest of his chair. His eyes were mere slits in his head due to his rage, but he only opened and closed his mouth a few times once Diocail finished.

  Tyree paled, realizing he was losing the battle. “The Gordons need new leaders, Diocail. Help me open the doors to a new laird, and ye will be me war chief. It’s hardly murder—he’s got one foot in the grave already.”

  “Murder is murder,” Diocail replied. “I have enough sins to bear without adding that sordid bit of business to me list of transgressions, and I will no’ be standing
by while ye do it. No’ when I’ve sworn me allegiance to Colum as laird of the Gordons. A man is only as good as his word.”

  “Well, then.” Tyree dropped the pillow and pulled his dirk. “It will be a fine morning, because I’ll be greeting it with ye and Colum both dead.” He began to move in a slow circle around Diocail. “After all, I came here and found ye murdering our laird. Such a shame I was too late to stop ye, but I dispensed justice.”

  Colum tried to cry out for help, but his voice was thin and didn’t carry across the wide expanse of his huge chambers.

  Diocail only bared his teeth and curled his fingers in a come-hither gesture. “Try me, lad.”

  Tyree grinned, but a moment later he was jabbing at Colum. Blood went spurting as the chair toppled and Diocail lunged at Tyree. They fell on the floor as Tyree turned the dirk on Diocail. It was what he’d intended, to make Diocail come at him so Tyree had the advantage.

  The chamber was full of the scent of freshly spilled blood and the grunts of men fighting for their lives. Colum dragged his body away from the two men, leaving a path of blood behind him.

  There was a bone-crunching sound, and the chamber went silent. Colum stopped trying to reach the door and turned to see what his fate would be. Both men were in the middle of the floor, a tangle of limbs and Gordon wool. The fresh blood was scarlet and covering both of them. For a long moment, Colum squinted at them, trying to find a hint as to which one had prevailed. It had been a long time since he’d tasted fear. Now, the taste was thick on his tongue as he felt his own blood slipping down his skin.

  There was a heave and motion as Diocail sat up and pushed Tyree’s lifeless body off him. There was a wicked slice down the side of his face that he didn’t bother to wipe as he stood and came across the chamber.

  Diocail opened the chamber door and let out a whistle. Colum started to chuckle as he realized he’d been delivered.

  * * *

  “It’s no’ something to laugh at.”

  Katherine shrugged. “You look like a bundle of sheep’s fleece on the way to market.”