How to Handle a Highlander Page 4

  “I admit, ye play the innocent better than Sandra ever did, but ye’ll nae find it simple to seduce me.”

  She straightened up, stepping away from the wall as her temper simmered. “Ye have no right to accuse me of nae being innocent. Or of trying to act like a harlot. Ye were the one waiting in the shadows.”

  His lips parted to flash his teeth at her. “I knew ye had claws. Ye are a Fraser after all.”

  There was a ring of triumph in his tone, which irritated her beyond every bit of self-discipline she had.

  “What I have is the sense to know when I’m hearing naught but drivel. Son of an earl or nae, ye do nae have the right to insult me for obeying me laird. I do nae need the Matheson thinking I turned up me nose at their laird. Marriage is for forming alliances. I’m nae so selfish as to think an insult to a laird, like refusing his offer, will nae become a festering point of contention.”

  But her voice lowered as she finished, and she had to push the last sentence past her lips because she just didn’t want to believe she was one day away from having to wed Achaius Matheson.

  “And I was nae trying to seduce ye,” she added.

  His grin remained arrogant and large, but he opened his arms, offering her a view of just how wide his chest was. “Ye were looking into me eyes.”

  “And ye were looking into mine,” she countered. He was suddenly too large and the hallway far too compact to suit her. “Enough arrogance. Perhaps ye are accustomed to only the sort of women who like to seduce, but I am nae of that sort. I’m set to wed, and I do nae think it wise to be standing here acting like—”

  “Like lovers flirting in the night shadows?”

  His voice dipped low and sent a tingle along her limbs. There was a gleam of mischief in his dark eyes.

  She shook her head, her tongue feeling frozen with shock.

  “Nay, we are nae acting like lovers, or are ye arguing that we are nae lovers—yet?” He pressed forward another few inches.

  Something snapped inside her. She gasped and went to shove him away from her.

  “Ye obnoxious lout!”

  She flattened her hands against his chest, but he didn’t budge. She’d used a fair amount of strength, but Gahan Sutherland only chuckled at her attempt to move him.

  “Ye have no right to accuse me of such indecent things. Maybe there are plenty who would remind me that ye’re me better and can say what ye will, but I will do me duty.”

  He closed his hands around hers, but he didn’t remove them from his chest. Instead, he trapped her there with her hands upon him.

  “What if I told ye I would nae be opposed to becoming yer lover? I promise ye will find me bed more to yer liking.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and her temper exploded. She never really thought about what she was doing; her body simply refused to remain still. With a snarl, she sent her knee toward his unprotected groin. One moment he was chuckling at her, and the next, she felt her blow connecting. Pain flashed across his face as he whipped into action. She was free in a moment, but his hand rose into position to deliver a strike to her jaw.

  “I’m looking into yer eyes sure enough, Gahan Sutherland…”

  She realized she’d never really seen his emotions, because his face became a mask of fury now, yet it was mixed with self-loathing. He lowered his fist and sucked in a deep breath.

  “I would nae have hit ye. Me hand went up out of reflex. Ye have to expect that when ye deliver such a low blow to a man.”

  She believed him, which was foolish, because men didn’t suffer the sort of thing she’d done to him well. Especially one of noble blood like him. He might have her lashed, but even that knowledge didn’t keep her silent.

  “Ye should expect such a reaction when ye pin innocents in dark hallways and try to blame them for yer own suspicious nature.”

  His face tightened. “Yer sister almost killed me father. That is nae suspicion. It is proven.”

  “Which is why ye should leave. Bari is nae content—”

  She was saying too much, letting her thoughts spill past her lips without considering the consequences. She needed to prevent bloodshed, not give Gahan Sutherland solid reason to go looking for Bari’s blood. Even if she knew Bari deserved it.

  “Is nae…what?”

  Gahan’s voice was soft, but there was a flame flickering in his dark eyes that terrified her. She hadn’t been afraid of him until that moment, because she was certain she was looking at the rage churning inside him over almost losing his father. She felt his pain but was powerless to soothe it.

  “I cannae help ye, no more than I can stop me own wedding.”

  She was saying too much again, her deepest feelings pouring out because she was so frightened. “Ye should just…go.” Tears burned her eyes, and her voice was thick with them. “That’s all I can do for ye.”

  Moira grabbed her skirts and ran. She heard him give chase behind her, but she made it to the arched doorway and inside the Great Hall before he caught her. Matheson retainers looked up, catching her in their sights. Gahan jerked back at the last moment, but she felt his dark stare on her.

  She was trembling, her entire body shaking like it was bone-chilling cold.

  Yet she was hot, and her cheeks burned with a blush.

  “Moira, come here.” Bari was sitting at the high table, his expression stormy. She forced herself to walk down the aisle, fighting against the urge to run.

  Where would she go? There was no sanctuary for her, and Gahan no doubt still lingered in the darkness. Bari tapped the top of the table impatiently. Moira squared her shoulders and moved toward the high table. Better to face what she must and be done with worrying about it.

  “Ye’ll nae wed until tomorrow.” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward to get a closer look at her, his gaze lingering on her bright cheeks. “I expect ye more composed by then.”

  Bari snapped his fingers at one of the maids. She hesitated before moving toward Moira.

  “Come, miss.” She bit her lip. “Mistress.”

  The girl sounded as unsure as Moira felt. At least there was someone she might feel something in common with.

  Yet it was a beginning to her new future, and that pleased her. Moira followed the girl from the hall with a sense of renewed hope.

  ***

  “The lass is quick,” Cam observed.

  “I would nae have struck her,” Gahan said gruffly.

  His half brother didn’t respond, but Gahan saw the reprimand in his expression. That was something his father had taught him to take notice of. Just because he was in command, it didn’t mean the men following his orders agreed with him. Scotland had a young king because his father had been too arrogant to notice that those around him were growing resentful of his personal excesses.

  “I deserved it,” he admitted.

  “Aye, ye did at that. Ye won’t be getting any argument from me.” Cam spoke softly to keep their words between them. “Are ye going to take her advice?”

  “And leave?” Gahan shook his head. “Maybe Bari will make enough of a mistake and give me the opportunity to break his neck right here.”

  “That would save a bit of trouble for the rest of us. But I think the earl is going to be displeased about ye looking to start a fight under a vassal laird’s roof.”

  “Publicly, he will be.” Gahan flashed his sibling a grin. “But I am a bastard, after all.”

  He was planning on using the stain of his birth to right the wrong Bari Fraser had done to his family. Some might accuse him of dishonorable conduct, but as far as he was concerned, poison was even lower.

  And Moira Fraser knew the truth of the matter. She’d almost spilled the facts. His suspicions were confirmed. Bari had known full well what his sister was planning to do to Lytge, and it seemed that Moira knew too.

  For some reason, that knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t have time to wonder why. She was kin to Sandra and Bari. No doubt she’d learned to use her blue eyes to begui
le men the same way Sandra had. Her impending marriage was a fine example of using the union of matrimony for gain. He shouldn’t be surprised or even overly interested in the matter.

  But the bitterness remained.

  ***

  “The laird’s last wife used this chamber.”

  The maid froze two steps into the room when she looked at the bed. A bundle of rosemary, withered and brown, still decorated the headboard. Someone had brought it to Matheson’s last wife in the hope it would cleanse the chamber and help her have a safe delivery. The dry leaves had fallen onto the pillow now, a blunt reminder of how dangerous childbirth was. No one had cleared it away, because no one wanted bad luck plaguing them.

  “We should try another place.”

  The girl made the sign of the cross over herself as she hurried from the room. Moira lingered, looking around the chamber for clues as to what her new life would be like. It was a modest room, the furniture sturdy but not lavish. A thick comforter was kicked to the foot of the bed, and there was a fireplace. A half-burned candle sat on the bedside table, and a long table had been pushed near the bed. Several pitchers and a large urn were abandoned there along with a stack of towels intended for the birth. Dust had settled over all of it.

  “Come away, there are bad humors here. We should get a sin-eater to sleep here before anyone else enters the chamber and gets shackled with bad luck.”

  “Why hasn’t the head of house already hired one?” Moira asked.

  “We have no head of house,” she explained. “The laird will expect ye to manage the duties. The cook runs the kitchens well enough. Ye’ll be deciding who has a place.”

  Because she would be the laird’s wife. It was slightly appealing until she recalled the way Gahan Sutherland had looked at her. Like a high-priced whore. She preferred to focus on the good her union might do for ensuring peace. But she’d have to try her hand at making Achaius think she liked his touch.

  A shudder shook her, and she hurried after the maid.

  The maid was leading her down a narrow passageway. The stones were older here, many of them pitted. There was only a single tin lantern to provide light. She pushed open a door and held it for Moira. The chamber was as dark as a cave. A little light spilled in from the hallway. Once Moira stepped over the threshold, the girl reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a flint stone. She struck it with a piece of iron until sparks flew onto the pile of tinder left on a small pewter plate. It flared up, and she held a candle over it until it lit. The golden glow spread out around the maid, and she carried it to another candle sitting on the far side of the chamber.

  The maid returned the candle to the holder sitting by the plate. The tinder had burned away, leaving only a thin taper of smoke that lingered in the stale air. She walked to the window and opened the shutters. A cloud of dust billowed up as she pushed out the wide shutters. She wrinkled her nose, but then she turned and offered Moira a smile.

  Moira smiled back. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “I am Fann, milady,” the maid said and lowered herself. There was a hopeful note in the girl’s voice. She opened the doors of a wardrobe from which she pulled out a folded bundle of bedding and set to making the bed. Moira went to the other side of the bed to help her straighten the sheets. The work went much faster with two of them. A look of relief crossed Fann’s face; no doubt the girl had worried her laird’s new wife might be expecting pampering.

  “The sheets are clean. A bit of time and the night breeze will freshen the air in here.”

  She moved to a chair that had a piece of Matheson plaid covering it. When she lifted it, the candlelight sparkled off the dust. The chair was a sturdy one, built in an X fashion. Fann picked up the seat cushion and beat it against her hip a few times.

  “Do ye wish to take supper below?” She nibbled on her lower lip. “The laird is rather set in his thinking. He’ll insist ye sit at the lower table, because of yer common blood, until ye wed.”

  The girl was flustered but obviously eager to help her new mistress adjust. The way she chattered so freely spoke of a household where the line between mistress and staff was very thin. In fact, the only difference might be that she had the church’s blessing to share Achaius’s bed. The Matheson laird clearly felt he was ruler and to be obeyed instantly. She doubted any maid who caught his eye might tell him no.

  “I’m weary. Would ye be kind enough to fetch me something?”

  The girl lowered herself again and smiled. “Ye may rely on me and me two sisters. They are younger, but our mother has taught us well.”

  Fann hurried out of the chamber, likely intent on finding her siblings to help her bring up the supper tray. Moira understood the nervousness eating at the girl. Everyone needed to make sure they had a place. It might be spring, but there would be no new crops for several months yet. Even then, no one was provided for without giving something in return.

  Moira would be striving to please Achaius for her keep.

  With a sigh, she sat down in the chair but shot back up when she realized how sore her bottom was. She wasn’t accustomed to riding a horse for so many hours in a row. Her cheeks colored as she remembered that she’d be expected to welcome her new husband into her embrace by the next nightfall.

  Or sooner. Her cheeks reddened as she recalled the greeting her husband-to-be had given her. It was possible he’d happily claim his rights the moment the Church blessed them. She certainly wouldn’t be the first bride deflowered in the light of day.

  Or the first one accused of seeking a lover when she got a good look at her groom.

  That fact didn’t make her any less accepting of the accusation Gahan Sutherland had made. Achaius would likely be furious if he discovered she’d lashed out at his overlord’s son, even if the man had deserved it.

  Oh, he had. She smiled with satisfaction. Moira doubted she could find any remorse for her actions, even if she ended up locked in the stocks for daring to forget her place. Gahan might be bastard-born, but he was still a blue blood. The man was also a Highlander.

  Bari liked to call himself one, but the truth of the matter had been there in the hardness of Gahan’s body. Every retainer following the son of the Earl of Sutherland was lean and bulky with muscle. Sutherland was far north. Most likely, it was still covered in snow. Only the strong survived there. Like Gahan.

  She shook her head. She was letting her mind wander into dangerous places. She’d learned long ago not to ponder how much better others’ lives were. Such mental exercises were only going to take her to one place, and that was resentment. There was much to enjoy in her days, and it was best to remember that fact.

  Achaius’s face rose from her memory. His eyes had sparkled with glee as she blushed. His laughter echoed in her ears, destroying her attempts to find something positive about her plight. But she had to. Alba needed her to please the old laird.

  Though it was clear he would not be making any effort to consider her desires.

  ***

  The bells from the church woke her.

  Moira jumped awake because it sounded as if she was sleeping in the bell tower. She pushed the coverlet off her legs and ran to the window. The floor was chilled from the night air, and it stung the bottoms of her bare feet.

  The church was inside the curtain wall, the bells eye level with her window. She certainly wouldn’t be sleeping past morning Mass.

  “Morning, miss.” Fann hurried into the room and retrieved Moira’s undergown. “This is me sister, Aife.”

  The second girl picked up Moira’s overgown and stood behind her sibling as Fann helped her into her undergown. Once it was in place, Aife held up her overgown. Both were simple garments, no finer than what Aife or Fann wore.

  “After Mass, we’ll have to see what can be found for ye to wear for yer wedding. There will be nice things in the last mistress’s chamber. Her family sent her with velvet.”

  The last bits of slumber evaporated as Moira recalled exactly what the day would
hold. She’d spent long hours trying to fall asleep, and now she was paying for it. Her head hurt with fatigue already, and the sun was barely risen. Fann pulled a brush through her hair, and Aife offered her the linen cap.

  “Come…come,” Fann urged her.

  The bells had stopped ringing, and the sound of song drifted up from the church. It wouldn’t do well for her to be late to Mass. Plenty of lairds were forgiven of the same sin, but it was a wife’s duty to be there even if her husband wasn’t.

  In fact, there were a great number of sins Achaius might be allowed that she was forbidden.

  Moira followed Fann through what seemed identical tunnels running inside the old keep. She stumbled as she tried to make sense of which direction they were going, but there appeared to be no markings of any sort.

  Fann knew the way, though, and soon they were hurrying from the tower to the steps of the church. Others were also doing their best not to be late. There was no time for greetings or even to notice who was next to her. By the time she was in line with the rest of the female members of the congregation, the priest was beginning the Mass.

  But there were plenty of people trying to get a look at her. It was by far the most attention she’d ever attracted, and it was more than unsettling. Her confidence tried to desert her, but the memory of the look on Alba’s face kept her standing steady. There was no way she would achieve her goals if she crumpled. Being peeked at would certainly not be the worst of what the day would hold.

  She wished she was marrying Gahan Sutherland and would be welcoming him into her bed later. Heat scorched her cheeks at the thought. She had no right to even think such a thing, much less during Mass. But the thought was there, inside her head, too bold to brush aside.

  How would she even go about such a thing? A man like Gahan would no doubt have experience with women trying their hand at snaring his attention. He might even have a wife now, or be contracted for one. Without realizing it, she scanned the opposite side of the church. It wasn’t hard to find the Sutherlands. Their plaid was darker in hue, because they used more dye, an expense they didn’t seem to mind. But they were also larger.