Wicked Highland Ways Page 23

  She refused to say the word home.

  Campbell Castle had never been her home.

  Gunn Towers had, though…

  Hush, do not torment yerself with such thoughts.

  “Thank ye.” Brenda forced her mind to the tasks at hand.

  Dressing didn’t take very long. She took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror. One of the maids braided her hair while Brenda tried to decide just why fate was so vindictive toward her.

  Understanding will bring ye little comfort…

  That was a solid truth. She’d understood her father’s reasons for wedding her the first time so very well. She’d understood why the young King had sent her to England. The only thing she had never truly understood was Bothan’s determination to have her.

  Ye’ll be glad of it, though…

  Aye. She’d hold the memories close to her heart. The Sutherland retainers formed an escort around her the moment she emerged from the chamber, two of them in front of her and another two behind. Three flights of stairs had never taken so long to descend, and then she was being taken through the passageways toward the huge double doors that opened to the yard.

  Staff members peeked at her through doorways, whispering as she passed. The entire castle seemed quite aware of her circumstances.

  Of course they would be—politics always drew attention.

  She was sure to have been a source of conversation for the past week. Married to one man and stolen by another.

  It made her ill to think of it.

  The sunlight was bright, offering her no hope that the heavens might decide to unleash some fury on the Earl of Sutherland for his part in the day’s planned activities.

  When have ye ever been so fortunate?

  Brenda held her chin steady as the earl appeared in front of her. But she looked past him to where Bothan was standing.

  Pain tore through her in response. Her step faltered, and one of the men behind her reached forward to steady her. Bothan’s eyes narrowed. He started toward her.

  “Chief Gunn,” the earl called out. “I expect ye to mind me in this matter.”

  Brenda watched the flash of anger in Bothan’s eyes. He controlled his expression though and reached up to tug on the corner of his bonnet.

  The earl grunted approval before he turned back to the party of Campbells surrounding Hamell.

  “Let’s get on with it,” the earl snapped. “Get up to the church doors and wed her. Ye’ve wasted enough of me time with this matter, Hamell Campbell. Yer laird will be in debt to me for a favor, and I will make certain to collect on it.”

  Hamell snorted, but he turned and went toward the small chapel. It was built onto the side of one of the towers and no bigger than a private chamber. The people of Sutherland would stand outside to receive the mass and blessings while the priest maintained the small space as the house of the Lord. Only a devoted member of the clergy could actually enter the chapel.

  Hamell braced his hands on either side of the open doors and leaned in. “There is no priest here.”

  The earl looked surprised. “The man is likely down in the village giving last rites. Ride out and retrieve him.”

  Hamell grunted and tugged on the corner of his cap. “Chief Gunn should go.”

  The earl let out a frustrated sound. “Ye’ve heard me tell Chief Gunn to mind my word in this matter. Now get the bloody priest or I swear I will rethink the matter, for I’m growing tired of standing here in the sun for something Laird Campbell isn’t here to ask for himself.”

  The earl grumbled as Hamell turned and gestured to some of his men. They took a moment to mount up and then rode out the gate.

  “Why did no one think to warn the priest of the wedding I planned this morning?” the earl demanded.

  “Perhaps the man knew,” Bothan answered, “and decided he did not want to be part of the matter.”

  The earl turned on Bothan, but true to his nature, Bothan stood his ground.

  Christ, but Brenda enjoyed the sight.

  “I believe it might be time for ye to see the Sutherland dungeon, Chief Gunn,” the earl began ominously.

  “Ye’ll miss the moment,” Bothan replied.

  The earl wasn’t happy. Brenda watched the way he had to bite back his anger because years of experience seemed to make him want to question Bothan’s confidence.

  And her husband was confident. Brenda caught the flash of intent in his eyes as he pointed up to the walls surrounding them.

  “Ye’ll want to climb up to get a better view,” Bothan suggested to the earl.

  The earl looked between Bothan and the men on the walls. Several of them were leaning forward, clearly trying to decide what was happening on the stretch of land in front of the castle.

  “What have ye managed?” the earl demanded.

  He didn’t wait for Bothan to answer. For all his years, the Earl of Sutherland made it up the steps to the top of the wall fairly quickly.

  Brenda didn’t care. Bothan was at her side, pulling her into his embrace as the sound of sword meeting sword came through the open gate.

  “What…what did you do?” Brenda demanded in a hushed voice. She struggled to push Bothan away. “Are yer men out there doing murder? The earl will hang ye…go! Quickly before—”

  “Hush.” Bothan covered her mouth with his hand. She was stuck in his embrace, his strength overwhelming her as it always had. “They are not my men.”

  Screams came next, drawing Brenda’s attention to the open gate.

  “Chief Gunn, I will remember this!” the earl declared from the top of the wall.

  “As will I.” There was a new voice now. Brenda looked through the open gates at a man who rode up. His horse was still dancing from being ridden into battle. He stuck to the agitated creature’s back, though, and pointed his bloodied sword at the earl.

  “I am Morey Hay,” he declared. “I’m grateful to ye for letting me know the whereabouts of the man who wed me sister less than a year ago and then put her in her grave.”

  The earl had descended from the wall. He faced off with Morey Hay. The clansman was huge. Once he dismounted and sheathed his sword, he still towered over the Earl of Sutherland. But he lowered himself once he came into the castle, tugging on the corner of his bonnet as the earl received the acknowledgment of his higher station.

  “I’d have ridden to Campbell land to claim justice,” Morey continued. “Ye have my gratitude for not making me risk more men in doing what I needed to do for me sister.”

  “Of course,” the earl stammered.

  Morey Hay looked past the earl to where Bothan stood next to her. Her husband was suddenly urging her forward. The Gunn retainers were making their way toward the gate, offering the earl quick tugs on their hats while more Hay retainers lined up on the other side of the gate.

  Bothan gave Brenda a push toward Maddox. She stumbled, still in shock at how completely everything had changed. Maddox gripped her wrist and tugged her away from Bothan as he stopped and faced off with the earl.

  “I’ll bid ye farewell,” Bothan informed the earl firmly.

  Maddox tossed her onto the back of a horse and slapped the mare on the hindquarters as Bothan spoke. Brenda glimpsed the anger on the earl’s face before she was forced to concentrate on staying on the back of the horse.

  And then she was on the other side of the gate.

  So simple.

  So unexpected.

  So very amazing.

  * * *

  The Gunn retainers rode hard for the edge of Sutherland land. The Hay retainers had joined them, making them a force to be reckoned with. The few villages they came across cleared their roads as the men rode through. Morey Hay’s home was much like Bothan’s towers. The stone structures rose up from the high ground as Brenda heard a bell being rung at the top of the gu
ard tower.

  She doubted Bothan would have stopped if the horses hadn’t needed a good rest. Brenda slid from the back of her mount as Maddox took the animal away for a very well-earned supper. Her own belly was rumbling.

  “Plenty of supper inside,” Morey Hay declared. He looked toward Brenda.

  Morey was covered in dirt from the hard ride, but there had been blood splattered across his face before he took to the saddle. Now, the dirt emphasized the blood.

  “Ye did not look away,” Morey noted as he caught her looking at the dried blood.

  Brenda locked gazes with him. Bothan came up beside her. Morey considered them both.

  “I expect no less of any woman Bothan would wed,” Morey added. He turned and let out a whistle. An older woman came across the yard in response. “Mary will take ye abovestairs and see ye have what ye need,” Morey said before moving over to where his men were beginning to wash up in long troughs of water set out at the end of the yard. The stone structures were built at an angle so the water drained out the low end and back into the river.

  “Come with me,” Mary instructed. “The yard is no’ a fit place for a woman when the men come in from battle.”

  The maids and other females of the Hay clan who had come out to greet their laird were nowhere in sight now. Mary pointed toward the entrance of the tower. Brenda grabbed a handful of her skirts and climbed the steps.

  Once inside, there were plenty of women, but the mood was grim. Tight expressions decorated everyone’s faces as they went about getting supper onto the tables for the men who had just returned.

  “Justice is no’ a cure for the ache in the soul,” Mary explained as she led Brenda up a flight of stairs. “The laird’s sister was a sweet soul. Yer husband did a fine favor to the Hay in informing us Hamell Campbell was close enough for the justice he deserved.”

  Mary opened a door and waited for Brenda to cross into the room. A shiver went down her spine as she complied, too many hours in the Sutherland stronghold souring her taste for chambers with doors.

  “No one will disturb ye,” Mary said. “I must see to supper.”

  Brenda turned and lowered herself. The older woman nodded before turning and disappearing into the darkening stairwell.

  But the door remained open.

  Brenda drew in a breath and let her tension dissipate. She walked back toward the door and smiled at the lack of burly retainers standing there to keep her prisoner.

  It’s over…

  She closed the door, fighting the urge to begin worrying. The impossible had happened, and she needed to be grateful.

  So very grateful…

  A bowl of stew was sitting on a table, steam gently rising from it. Brenda caught the scent, and her mouth started watering. She took too big a mouthful the first time, singeing her tongue. But the taste was amazing, far better than any food she’d eaten in weeks. Brenda took the next few bites slowly, reminding herself to savor the meal.

  The chamber itself was simple, with a sturdy, warm-looking bed against one wall and two chairs. The table was near the window. A chest sat beside it, completing the furnishings in the room.

  Someone rapped on the door.

  “Yes?” Brenda called out.

  “The cook thought ye’d like some water,” a man said as he pushed the door open. He waited for Brenda to nod.

  A few scuffs on the floor and he’d delivered a pair of buckets of water. A maid was on his heels with a kettle of hot water. She placed it carefully on the floor before reaching into her apron pocket and withdrawing a bundle of linen.

  “Thank you,” Brenda said as they both made their way out.

  Of course. Their laird was home, and there was the matter of their murdered mistress. No doubt the clan was drawing together to comfort one another. Brenda opened the linen bundle to see what there was.

  A lump of soap and a comb were there along with a smaller square of linen. Brenda smiled, her skin suddenly itching. She stripped down and added the hot water to the buckets before scrubbing herself from head to toe. It wasn’t as relaxing as soaking in a tub, but she enjoyed the feeling of clean skin so much she didn’t care how it came about.

  She pulled her smock back on and began to pull the pins from her hair. In the first light from the moon, she used the comb to straighten the tangles from it.

  “Ye have an unfair advantage, lass.”

  Brenda froze, turning her face toward the door. Bothan had arrived, his boots in his hands, which accounted for how silent his steps had been.

  “I think I should claim ye’ve caught me at the disadvantage,” she muttered as she drew the comb to the ends of her hair and set it aside.

  “Ye’d be wrong,” Bothan muttered. There was a soft sound as his boots hit the floor. “Ye’re a siren, and I am but a mortal man, ensnared by yer charms.”

  She’d been told she was beautiful. Her red hair and flawless complexion had been used during negotiations by her father and relatives. Even after her wedding, Hamell had been one of the many to covet her for her beauty.

  Tonight, though, the look in Bothan’s eyes made her feel pretty for the very first time.

  “What are ye thinking, lass?” he asked in a whisper.

  He’d made it to her, was just a breath away from touching her. Brenda realized she was holding her breath, poised on the point of anticipation.

  “I think the look in yer eyes makes me feel beautiful,” she answered him truthfully.

  In that moment, everything had been stripped from her, leaving her bare to him. The reason was simple: nothing really mattered except the way he saw her and how very much she needed him to desire her.

  “I’ve been enchanted since the first time I laid eyes on ye,” he confessed.

  There was a flash of frustration in his eyes. She felt it like a sharp dagger pushed into her flesh. “I never meant to—”

  He laid a fingertip against her lips to still them.

  “Yet we are here, Brenda,” he rasped out.

  He was moving closer, gathering her hair up and burying his face in it. She heard him draw in a deep breath before letting it loose.

  He is going to touch ye…

  She was so unbearably aware of him, all of her senses keen and ultra-sensitive. Time was flowing so slowly, like honey from a spoon lifted above a plate. She caught the scent of the sweet concoction before it pooled on the surface of the plate and long before she actually got a taste of it.

  But the moment was worth waiting for.

  Like his kiss…

  Brenda watched the way Bothan’s expression set as he decided on his next move. He lifted his gaze to her face, locking eyes with her for a moment.

  And then he was shifting, moving in front of her as he reached further into the cloud of her hair to cup the back of her neck with his hand. She felt him grip her head, tightening his hold as he took the final step between them and tilted his head to one side so he might fit his mouth against hers.

  Time was both enemy and friend.

  She was acutely aware of the seconds it took for him to complete the intimacy. Felt his kiss increasing in pressure as he locked her against him.

  And he didn’t rush the moment.

  No, Bothan took the time to kiss her gently, as though he was savoring the moment just as much as she herself was. She shifted toward him, flattening her hand against his chest and sliding her fingers up to his shoulder.

  There was a soft vibration beneath her fingers. The sound of his growl surrounded her as he lifted his mouth and returned it to hers in a harder kiss.

  She drew in a hard breath, feeling the surge of arousal as it flooded through her. Just like too much wine, the heat was traveling along her limbs, heating her from the inside out. Her lack of clothing suited the moment now, as she shifted and found the edge of her smock. Bothan didn’t want to release he
r. He let her go with a sound of disgruntlement.

  “If I’m a siren,” Brenda teased him gently, “I should play the part completely.”

  She stepped back before drawing her garment off. His eyes narrowed, and he stood for a long moment, taking in the sight of her.

  “Indeed ye should,” Bothan praised her.

  He released the wide leather belt holding his kilt around his lean waist, and the wool fabric puddled around his feet. Their gazes were still locked as he reached up and behind his neck to grasp the collar of his shirt and pull it up. The creamy linen rose, baring him for her before he chucked the shirt aside and faced her.

  Brenda looked at the hardened body facing her. She knew she was softer, and yet they were crafted to complement each other.

  A strange sense of rightness enveloped her, as though she was precisely where she was meant to be for the first time in her life. Logical thinking hadn’t brought her to it, no—impulses and needs had.

  So she was going to listen to them completely.

  Brenda lifted her hand, offering it to him. She smiled at the expression that covered his face.

  Male satisfaction.

  She thought she’d seen it before. Looking at Bothan as he put his hand into hers made her realize she’d never seen a man as honest as he was. The look on his face lacked pride of ownership. Bothan found the act of her inviting him into her bed far more of a privilege than anything else.

  She closed her fingers around his hand, turning and tugging him toward the bed. They made it only a few paces before he was moving faster, sweeping up beside her and taking her off her feet.

  He did it so effortlessly.

  Cradling her against his body for the few short steps between them and the bed.

  “I’ve dreamt so often of laying ye down in me bed,” Bothan muttered as he settled her on the bed.

  He came down on top of her, pressing her thighs apart as he framed her face with his hands.

  “Putting ye where I could lay me hands on ye,” he whispered against her mouth. “Claim ye…taste ye…”