Highland Hellion Read online

  His eyes widened.

  “Like you do to a child,” Katherine clarified.

  Robert stiffened. Somehow, she’d failed to notice his shoulders had widened and his chin was covered in a full growth of hair now.

  “I’m no’ talking to ye like ye’re a child,” Robert said, defending himself. “Just—”

  “Like a woman?” she demanded. “Go take the hand of Satan and walk yourself to hell.”

  His cheeks darkened. “Ye have to stop talking like that, too. Women do nae curse.”

  “Easily accomplished,” she informed him. “For I will not be speaking to you anymore.”

  She turned to leave, but Robert reached out and caught her wrist. The bit of strength was there, one she knew and detested because it proved that time was going to destroy the life she had thought she’d built.

  “Kat,” he said. “Do nae be cross with me. Ye are a woman, and they are right. The bloody Gordons will no’ rape me. Ye need to keep to yer place. Do ye want to be known as a hellion? No man will ever have ye if that happens.”

  “And so my entire worth should be measured by what a man wants?” She scoffed at him. “My prospects for a good match died when I was abducted by the Earl of Morton.”

  Robert didn’t disagree. He wanted to, opening his mouth but shutting it when he couldn’t form an argument.

  “Keep yer hands off me,” she declared before she twisted and stepped to the side, breaking his grip. “And do not follow me to speak to me alone. It is improper.”

  She turned her back on him and found Marcus considering them. She lifted her chin and shot him a hard look.

  Wasn’t that what they all wanted? Her acting like a woman?

  Well, she’d certainly not be apologizing.

  Even though she ached to, for Robert was her only true friend.

  And now, she was forbidden that comfort.

  Why had Fate cursed her with being a female?

  * * *

  “Did Katherine stay with ye today?”

  Helen looked up from the baby and sent Marcus a tired look. “Aye.”

  He placed his sword by their bed and reached down to gently stroke the hair away from the face of their older son, Rae, who was fast asleep in his trundle bed near the wall.

  “Ye know why it must be so,” he remarked to his wife as he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to work the lace holding his boot closed.

  “I also recall very well how it feels to be a stranger here,” Helen replied. “I saw that look in Katherine’s eyes today.”

  “She’ll settle in.”

  “Because she’s a woman?” Helen scoffed at him, upsetting Roderick. She drew in a deep breath as she soothed the infant and guided him back to her nipple.

  “Because there is no other choice,” Marcus said once the sound of suckling resumed. “We have both done as much as we can for the lass. I thank God she is no’ sitting here as me wife.”

  “Aye,” Helen agreed. “Morton was a fool to try to force that match. Katherine was far too young.”

  “She is nae any longer, and I am no’ the one who stole her from her family. I simply made sure she’d not be wed to another man who valued Morton’s opinion more than decency,” Marcus said as he lay back in the bed. “Ye know it must be done.”

  Helen still sent him a look that made it clear she disagreed.

  Marcus let out a sigh. “If she was caught with a sword or, worse yet, using one, she might well be accused of being bewitched, if no’ an outright witch. For all that we’re no’ feuding, there is plenty of bad blood between the MacPhersons and Gordons to make them want a little retribution.”

  “And what better target than an English girl that we call yer sister,” Helen finished. “I recall well yer reasoning for training her.”

  “Aye.” Marcus reached for their son now that the baby was fed. “Morton would no’ be able to call it feuding if the Gordons claimed it was a matter of witchery. The lass was trying to ride out with us. She does nae understand the evil that is inside some men. Colum Gordon has more than his share. It has been festering since Bhaic killed Lye Rob Gordon, and Colum is too old to see the truth of the matter.”

  Helen lay back, enjoying the sight of her husband cradling their newest babe. Marcus was huge and hard, but he cupped the baby’s head and smiled. Yet it was a happiness that must be earned. Strength meant stability in the Highlands. Clans would do anything to ensure they were not viewed as weak.

  It was a truth she didn’t care for much, but one she would have to make certain Katherine understood.

  * * *

  She was a woman, and yet vastly different from those around her.

  Katherine tried to smile, but discovered her attempts were greeted with uncertainty. The women inside Castle MacPherson knew one another as well as the men in the yard did. But they did not know her, and Katherine discovered herself a stranger among them all over again. It was daunting and, coupled with her lack of friends, sometimes overwhelming.

  She walked to the stables one evening because the feeling of flour between her fingers became too much to bear.

  At least she’d finished her duties, so no one bothered to follow her.

  The sun was a glowing ball on the horizon, the air still warm with the promise of summer. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the outdoors.

  She’d missed it sorely.

  There was a snort as her horse caught sight of her. The animal tossed its head, making Katherine smile.

  “I missed you too,” she whispered as she rubbed its muzzle. The animal was dancing, its hooves kicking up a small cloud of dust.

  Yet no one came down the row of stalls to investigate. She realized it was the monthly court, and everyone who wasn’t on duty had gone to the great hall to hear the cases being brought before the laird for judgment. It was often a fine evening of amusement. Men fought for the most ridiculous reasons. Women too, but it would be the laird’s daughter-by-marriage who ruled on those cases.

  There were two young lads left with the horses, but they were busy enjoying their supper by the fire, far away from the stalls and the straw.

  Temptation rose inside her like music building during the market fair. At first, it was only a soft melody, but it quickly became a lively beat as one drew closer. Her heart was accelerating, fed by the way her horse was stamping at the ground.

  And the fact that no one was about to judge her.

  Did she dare?

  Was she foolish to ignore the opportunity? Honestly, she hadn’t known the hours of a day could be so long. Today had felt endless, and now, with the last of the light fading, it felt like freedom came on the wings of the night.

  Do ye want to be known as a hellion?

  Robert’s words rose from her memory and gave her resolve a firm kick in the backside.

  What she wasn’t going to do was squander her unexpected moment of freedom. She turned and looked around again. No one was anywhere near. She smiled as she tugged a shirt off a peg where it had been left by the men who worked in the stable when they changed into their better clothing for the night’s court. It was too large, but she was used to making do. She pleated up a kilt and lay down to buckle it around her waist. A jerkin and bonnet completed her look.

  Well, she’d like to have a sword, but such an item was expensive and not likely to be left behind. She’d have to make do with the dagger Marcus had gifted her with. It was a good one, and he’d made sure she knew how to use it. She pulled it out of her garter and happily stuck it through her belt before saddling the horse.

  The night beckoned to her with warm air and enough clouds to keep the moonlight low. It was just a ride. A few hours to restore her spirit before she had to resume the role Fate had decided was hers.

  Hellion?

  Perhaps.

  * * *

&nb
sp; “Sure yer sire won’t be tanning yer backside for ye?”

  Rolfe McTavish turned his head slightly to the side and sent his captain a half grin. “Only because I did no’ invite him along.”

  Adwin chuckled. “Aye, he’d likely do that, sure enough.”

  Rolfe reached across the space between the horses and playfully punched his captain in the shoulder. “Let’s get to it before our chance to have fun at the MacPhersons’ expense is wasted.”

  “Aye,” Adwin agreed. “What with the Earl of Morton insisting we no’ feud anymore, we get few enough opportunities.”

  Several of the McTavish retainers listening spat on the ground at the mention of the king’s regent, the Earl of Morton. The man wanted peace and unity in Scotland, and while Rolfe didn’t disagree with that notion, he wasn’t going to embrace the earl’s methods of forcing marriages on the Highlanders and trying to insist that all the lairds’ sons be raised at court. Morton could go piss himself if he thought Rolfe would let any child of his be taken to that den of serpents.

  Not that he even had a wife, but it was the principle of the thing. He grinned as the clouds shifted, darkening the moon. Morton wasn’t the first man to try to suppress the Highlanders.

  But he would be another one disappointed when he learned the northern Scots would not bend to his will.

  They were Highlanders.

  * * *

  Katherine rode farther than she’d intended.

  But she was still on MacPherson land when she pulled the horse up. The animal wanted more, but Katherine slipped from its back and rubbed it soothingly. She must not allow it to become lathered. It was still too cold for that to be a wise thing.

  Maybe she didn’t know how to turn bread well, but she knew how to treat a horse. She pulled the bit from its mouth to give it a few moments of ease while she walked it toward a flowing river and let it lower its head to drink.

  The wind rustled the leaves of the trees as the clouds shifted and blackened the night. It wasn’t darkness that made her nape tingle; no, it was something else. She started to turn, realizing she’d made a grave error in facing the river while the sound of the water might cover the steps of anyone nearby.

  The realization came too late. She felt a hard blow land on her head and pain nearly split her in two. She struggled to hold back unconsciousness as she raised her hands to defend herself, but she was slow and clumsy. Her captors laughed as they pulled her away from her horse and looped a length of rope around her. It bound her arms to her chest, and they gleefully added two more loops before tying it off.

  “Now that’s a fine prize, to be sure,” one of them declared. “Yer sire is going to blister yer arse, lad, once he pays yer ransom.”

  “Wager Marcus MacPherson will take a turn at that too, since ye’re one of his lads.”

  There was a course round of amusement at her expense, while the man holding the end of the rope tugged on it and pulled her along with him. She ducked her chin and stumbled after him.

  “Look what we have here.”

  Someone kicked her in the backside. It sent her sprawling, and with her arms bound, she tasted the dirt as she went rolling.

  “Hold.”

  Katherine was just sitting up when the order came. Compliance was immediate. Silence fell around her as she felt the weight of a stare.

  It was a foolish thing to think, but as the man stepped closer and lowered himself onto his haunches in front of her, she would have sworn she actually felt his gaze on her. The clouds shifted, casting him in yellow moonlight, and she stiffened. The reaction rose from deep inside her, shocking her as much as the sight of the man considering her.

  He was huge.

  As hulking large as Marcus, but he struck her so much differently. Her belly tightened, and she felt her eyes widen before she tucked her chin, as she’d learned to do to keep her gender hidden.

  The man reached right out and cupped her chin to raise it again.

  She gasped and recoiled.

  The contact of their skin was jarring. She kicked away from him, but her gaze remained locked with his.

  “It’s just a little MacPherson laddie,” one of the men spoke up. “Should be worth a few pieces of silver.”

  “Got his horse too,” someone else said. “I’m thinking it’s worth more than the whelp.”

  There was another round of chuckling.

  The clouds shifted again, giving her even more light, and this time she saw the feather standing up on the side of the leader’s bonnet. There was a twinkle from the brooch holding it that could only come from gold.

  “Ye’re blind, Cedric,” the man in front of her said.

  His voice was deep and controlled. A shiver went down her spine as she recognized how completely in his power she was.

  “How so?” Cedric asked. He gave the end of the rope a shake. “I caught him sure enough.”

  The man in front of her looked toward his man. “This is a lass.”

  He rose, proving just how powerful his body was. The motion was fluid and graceful, like a hawk when it swooped down on its prey.

  “Ye should have noticed how that rope is binding her arms and pushing her breasts up against whatever she bound them with.”

  Katherine felt her cheeks heat. It had been a long time since she’d blushed, and she didn’t welcome the return of such reactions. But her distemper didn’t change the truth. Her breasts were being pushed up, making a little pair of mounds in the front of the jerkin that wouldn’t be there if she were male.

  Curse her gender.

  “I am Rolfe McTavish.” He leaned over and hooked her by the coils of rope, lifting her up with one hard pull. “And ye are foolish in the extreme, mistress.”

  He pulled the rope off her, tossing it toward his man, Cedric, who caught it but glared at his laird’s son. “So what if it’s a lass? Still worth a ransom, I bet. Likely running away from a match. That means she has a dowry worth fighting over. Who knows? I might just wed her meself.”

  Katherine took a step back, and then another when she realized they were letting her get closer to the horse. It occurred to her that they didn’t think she was very accomplished at mounting. After all, most women would use a mounting block. It had taken her months to build up enough strength to do it, and still more months of strained muscles after that.

  Tonight, every bit of pain seemed insignificant compared to the knowledge that she could fend for herself.

  “I’m looking for good sport, Cedric,” Rolfe admonished his man.

  “Can’t see much of her in those clothes, but she might be sporting enough.”

  Rolfe stepped partially in front of his man. There was an odd tension in the air that made her belly want to heave, but she didn’t have time to be distracted by her emotions. She drew in a deep breath and let Marcus’s voice fill her head. The one he used when instructing.

  Fighting is no’ just about who is strongest, but about who has better control…

  Rolfe’s men were chuckling, while the laird’s son had his back to her. She took advantage of the moment, turning and jumping off a rock before gripping the sides of the saddle.

  The first fifty times she’d tried it, she’d blackened her eye or hit her nose so hard she was sure it was broken.

  Persistence had paid off though, and she’d learned to swing up and onto the horse like the other lads in her training class. Now she did so again, gaining the saddle as she clamped her thighs tight and pulled the horse’s head around before digging her heels into its sides. The animal reared up, screaming as it came down with a bone-jarring impact. She felt it tense as it used its powerful hindquarters to push off the ground and start bounding up the hill.

  * * *

  “Never seen a female do that before.”

  Neither had Rolfe. She was in the saddle as securely as any of his men.
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  “It’s not natural.”

  “Nay, it is no’.”

  “I’d say it’s impressive,” Rolfe interjected. “And it comes from training.”

  His men weren’t sure what to make of his comment. They considered him, two of them stroking their beards while Rolfe watched her reach the crest of the embankment and go over it. She kept motion with the horse expertly, her body moving with lithe, fluid grace that spoke of strength and training. It raised his cock and his opinion of her.

  Cedric was staring at him. Rolfe shrugged. “No one learns to swing up into the saddle without working at it.”

  His men agreed, even if a fair number of them were uncomfortable with the topic. Rolfe found his mind lingering on her long after the sound of her horse diminished into the distance.

  “Are we lifting cattle or no’?” Cedric asked at last.

  Rolfe found himself hesitating to answer his man. He was torn now. Something was prodding him to go up to Castle MacPherson.

  “Ye’re thinking of going after her.” It was Adwin who spoke. His captain knew him too well, it seemed.

  Rolfe turned to lock gazes with the man. “Someone should take her in hand.”

  “Aye, she was in luck that it was us who caught her,” Adwin agreed as he locked his hands around his wide belt and rocked back on his heels. It was his favorite position for thinking. “And still, someone has been teaching her, so they bloody well know what she does.”

  “The MacPhersons must have a priest with a finer sense of humor than we have on McTavish land,” Cedric added.

  “It just means she’s been playing at being a lad, and Marcus MacPherson has let the matter go. Priests do nae venture into the training yards often,” Rolfe said.

  “Maybe Marcus did nae notice.”

  “No’ a chance,” Rolfe answered. “Marcus is no fool.”

  “Ye took him by surprise sure enough,” Adwin stated, to the delight of the men.

  Rolfe was used to them recalling the tale. Today, he didn’t take as much heart in it. Yes, there had been a time years ago when he’d managed to sneak up on Marcus MacPherson while the man was distracted by his new wife.