The Highlander’s Bride Trouble Page 5

  There were only a few lanterns left alight in the hallway to fend off the night. The gate was down, and most of the inhabitants had taken the Church’s warning to shut themselves in to avoid the demons that ruled the night.

  “Yer mistress is a brat.”

  Nareen stiffened, stepping sideways, because she just couldn’t squelch the urge to put space between herself and Saer MacLeod.

  “I do nae deny it.”

  Saer was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and one foot lifted and set against the wall behind him. He looked remarkably at ease, but one look into his dark eyes and she realized just how sharp his focus was.

  “Did someone forget to show ye to a chamber for the night, Laird MacLeod?”

  He flashed a grin. “Are ye offering to see to the duty? I might just rethink me opinion of sleeping inside stone walls if it means following ye above stairs.”

  His tone was teasing, but her throat contracted, like a noose was knotted around it. “I am nae. If ye do nae care for stone walls, why are ye here?”

  Saer studied her for a long moment, his lips settling into a firm line. “Ye do nae need to hide here, Nareen. I will escort ye to yer brother if ye wish.”

  It was a kind offer, one she might have considered if she trusted herself to be near him.

  “I thank ye for the offer, but I am well enough on me own.”

  “I admire ye for being resourceful, but ye need not serve in this house. They do nae respect ye for yer diligence.”

  It was true, and she wasn’t comfortable hearing it spoken aloud. “I am nae hiding. I have simply nae decided on where it is I wish to go from here.”

  He flashed a roguish grin. “Is that a fact?”

  She nodded but realized too late she was letting her guard down by engaging him in conversation. With amazing ease, he had abandoned his position against the wall and blocked her path.

  “I have a suggestion for ye, sweet Nareen.”

  She had to tip her head back to lock gazes with him. A shiver raced down her spine as she caught the flicker of determination in his eyes.

  “I’ve heard yer idea of where I should go, and I will nae be returning to Donarch Tower and me brother’s rule.”

  “Yer brother thought he was sending ye some place safe,” Saer counseled her gravely.

  There was an edge to his tone that shamed her. “I know,” she whispered, the words harder to say than she’d anticipated, the sting of being banished still too fresh, but she knew she would have to forgive her brother. Kael had meant well. Ruth was the guilty one. “As I said, I have nae yet decided on where I wish to go, only that it will nae be back to me father’s house.”

  “Ye should hear me suggestion, since ye are considering making a decision.”

  He moved even closer, indecently close. She shivered. Acute sensation was flooding her, numbing her wits.

  “Honor demanded I offer to take ye to yer brother.”

  She could feel the heat from his body. She stepped away, only to collide with the wall.

  “I’ll confess that I’d prefer to have ye to meself, lass,” he whispered.

  She detested the idea. She told herself she did. But she quivered, sensation coursing through her insides and leaving her curiously elated. Just as she had been that morning.

  “This morning in the chapel, ye made it clear what sort of offer ye have for me.” She struggled to maintain her composure. “I’ve no interest in the urges of men. That is why I am here, and it is why I will nae agree to leave with ye. Ye shall nae be claiming I challenged ye, so ye have a reason yer hand at tossing me skirts once we are away and there are only yer men surrounding us.”

  She was being overly bold with a man who was her better, but she lifted her chin in the face of his scowl. “Do nae be so insulted. Yer men are loyal to ye. I’d be a fool no’ to think on that fact. Ye deserve such words for the arrogant way ye took what ye wanted this morning. The Ross will think me a slut now. I wonder what ye would have thought of any man treating yer own sister that way.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he frowned.

  “Yer tongue is sharp.” He surprised her by speaking in an even tone. “Yet it is yer strength that draws me to ye, even when it is delivered in the form of blunt, but true, words. I was thinking only of proving ye would enjoy me touch, since I’ve wanted to taste ye since I saw ye at court, but it was insensitive of me to do so in public.”

  His words stunned her. She’d never expected such tenderness from him, much less an apology. He was a laird, set above her by God. Even the priest would tell her that.

  But she didn’t need to know he’d followed her from court. Something stirred inside her at such an idea. Some feeling she wasn’t comfortable with, a feeling that might quickly turn into needing. Because she liked it, and she couldn’t allow herself to like Saer MacLeod.

  But his admission also made her feel desirable. Court was full of beautiful women, the fairest in Scotland, and she was not blind to how she compared. Her features were not too harsh, but she was no rare beauty.

  “Find someone else ye crave.” She lifted her chin. “’Tis disgust ye stir in me.”

  He’d hooked his hands into the wide belt holding his kilt around his lean waist. “Aye, that’s true enough, and it makes me want to beat yer cousin to death for allowing ye to be preyed upon. There is a fire in ye, one that should nae be tempered with fear.”

  “I am well enough,” she said and slid along the wall to escape. “Me opinion of ye has naught to do with me cousin. It is simply the way I feel.”

  He stepped forward, caging her with his body in one, lightning-fast motion. “Do nae lie to me. I felt ye tremble.”

  “I am nae—”

  He lowered his head, until his lips hovered over hers. She wanted to reject him, but a soft gasp escaped her, betraying her rising excitement. Her fingers clenched in a vain attempt to grip the wall and keep herself from leaning toward him.

  The urge was there, curling through her insides like a living force.

  “I also felt ye gripping me hair,” he whispered. “Why are ye trying to hold on to the wall behind ye? Is it to keep yer hands off me?”

  There was a wicked suggestion in his tone that stoked the embers of the flames he’d brought to life inside her in the chapel. She sucked in a horrified breath, her eyes widening. She looked away, but he cupped her chin, returning her gaze to his. A shudder shook her, and his lips curved.

  “That is a reaction, lass, but nae one of disgust.” His voice was edged with too much confidence. “It is the reaction of a woman to a man.”

  He admired her. The realization set a bright glow off inside her, but it also stirred a warning. She needed to reject him, find some way to wound his pride so he would never look her way again.

  For a moment, she was torn. Uncertain of what path was truly best. She searched his eyes, seeking more hints of his true nature, but only time would deliver those facts. Time and trust. If she trusted wrongly, she would suffer.

  But then her belly rumbled.

  His expression tightened as he bit back the desire to kiss her.

  “Ye have nae eaten.” He stepped back, offering her the space to precede him to the kitchens. “That damned brat let ye stand through supper without leave to fill yer belly.”

  “Ye do nae know that.” It wasn’t an outright lie, but she still cringed at how dishonest she was being. If he didn’t matter to her, she had no reason to fear his knowing anything about her. Yet she was almost desperate to hide every detail about herself. But the words slipped past her lips before she realized how telling they were. “Ye cannae know what I am about during all the hours of the day.”

  His lips twitched with satisfaction. “I am here for ye, lass. Me attention is on ye and naught else. I know where ye have been this d
ay and that yer mistress did nae give ye leave throughout supper. But I certainly expected she had supper for ye above stairs. Ye followed her up there several hours past.”

  There was a memory, a recollection of a time when she was not alone and someone else cared if she went without. She’d be a liar if she claimed she hadn’t missed such a feeling.

  But she’d be a fool to bask in the glow of anything Saer made her feel. He’d made his intentions plain, so she’d have to make her choice even plainer.

  “I am off to the kitchens now and do nae need an escort.” He was too large, both in stature and intensity. She felt overwhelmed and needed to push him away so she might catch her breath.

  “Since ye have brought it to me attention that I’ve cast doubt on yer character, ye do,” he countered.

  She shook her head, every fiber of her being denying him. Saer made a low sound that was a cross between a growl and a snarl before scooping her off her feet.

  She gasped, stunned by his audacity. “Put me down!”

  “Raise yer voice a bit louder, lass. It will nae bother me a bit to have us caught in a compromising position.”

  “I believe ye would.” For there would be only one solution, to wed or face being shamed in the pillory.

  She slapped his chest because she had to keep her voice low, but all the beast did was chuckle. He stole down the corridor, carrying her with an ease that was unnatural.

  No man should have such strength.

  No woman should enjoy it so much.

  But she did.

  He shouldered his way through the doors that led into the yard and then into the kitchens. The hearths were still glowing red, but the flames had died down. New wood wouldn’t be added until the morning. It was stacked up nearby, but to use it during a summer night would be wasteful, as it was warm, and there was still plenty of light. Saer deposited her on a stool and looked far too pleased with his actions.

  “Are ye trying to impress me with yer tender concern for me empty belly?” She sprang off the stool as though it were a spike. “Or do ye want to make sure I know ye may force me to yer will?”

  She didn’t care for how it made her feel, the idea that he might be darkening her name on purpose. Men used women as they pleased. It was a lesson she’d learned by witnessing what her cousin Ruth did with her charges. But part of the lesson had come from watching Ruth’s customers pay so eagerly for what they wanted with no concern for those being sold.

  “I plan to make sure yer belly stops rumbling. I know that pain.”

  He was busy looking through the bowls left on the long worktable in the center of the kitchen. They were all covered with cloths to protect the food from dust. There was always food left out for the retainers watching the castle wall. When they finished their duty, they would come to sup.

  “If all I wanted was a rough tumble, Nareen, I’d have had it last night before ye even saw me face.” He sent her a hard look. “I wouldn’t have taken ye to yer brother, but carried ye into a church and declared the truth. If forcing ye to be me wife was what I wished, it would be done.”

  His words were blunt. But true.

  He looked back at her. “I’m telling ye so there is no misunderstanding between us. I admire strength, for I know how painful it is to build. Many fold rather than grow stronger.” His eyes flashed with admiration. “Ye did nae fold. Breaking ye is nae what I crave.”

  As far as compliments went, it was far different than what she had been raised to desire from a man. Yet it pleased her in a way no comparison to a summer rose might have.

  She sat down, her anger deflating. He slid a plate onto the table in front of her. Just the sight of the food drew a low rumble from her empty belly. Her last meal had been so long ago, her mouth began to water, and her fingers shook as she reached for the food.

  Saer missed none of it, but she saw a look of bitter experience emerging past the controlled expression he so often hid behind.

  “There were times me mother could nae provide for me. She had been turned out by me father because he had a wife who cared naught for a reminder that another woman had given him a son when she had naught but a tiny daughter. The land he banished her to was difficult to cultivate. I was chasing rabbits for our supper as far back as I can recall. I have hard thoughts for me father when I remember just how grateful me mother was when I brought one home. But now that I am grown, I wonder if he did it to make sure I would grow up strong, since he would not be able to see to it himself.”

  “That is a hard way to grow up.”

  She tore a piece of bread in half. She could smell its nutty aroma, in spite of the fact that it was cold. Her fingers shook as she stuffed some into her mouth. To her starved body, the taste was intense.

  “That brat has no grasp of how many hours she makes ye go without food. Just as me laird father did nae know how many times I went to bed hungry before I grew strong enough to catch those rabbits. But maybe he wanted me to know what those born beneath me position felt like, so I would nae be like Abigail.”

  He filled a goblet with fresh milk from the night milking and sat it near her.

  Once she was able to control the urge to keep shoving food into her mouth, she asked, “Yet yer father must have paid for yer sword training. Such training is nae given for naught.”

  “He did. Yet it was made plain to me that every day might be me last if his legitimate wife produced a living son.” Satisfaction glowed in his eyes. “I trained longer and harder than any other lad. I could best them all by the time I was growing me first beard. Of course, me master pit me only against those older than me to make sure I did nae grow arrogant.”

  “I am nae sure that worked.” She spoke with soft amusement.

  He shrugged. “Yet I earned what I am.”

  “True.” For a moment, it was easy conversing with him, a sense of common understanding growing between them. He had often been spoken of at court, for no one knew much about him, and against the odds, he was laird of the MacLeods.

  Little wonder he was as massive and hard as he was. Her gaze slid over his face, finding the details of his harsh life. It was there in the scar on his left cheek and the bump in the center of his nose. Another scar ran through his right eyebrow, and there were several on his bared forearms.

  “That is a harsh way to live,” she whispered.

  His dark gaze locked with hers. “As difficult as lying down in yer bed and knowing yer own kin might be selling yer body?”

  Nareen looked away, unable to share that pain with him. It was too deep, too personal, too intimate.

  “We all endure what we must,” she countered. “Only babes think life is fair.”

  “Aye. As I endure being inside these walls to be near ye.”

  He was leaning against the wall again. There was a hint of discomfort in his expression, and she realized it was because he truly did not care for the walls surrounding him.

  It was another thing they had in common.

  She shook off the feeling. He inspired too many emotions in her. She finished her meal and took the plate to a bucket used for dirty tableware. They’d be taken outside in the morning for washing.

  “Good night, Laird MacLeod.”

  He remained leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Even with night fully fallen, his shirtsleeves were still tied up to the shoulder to bare his arms.

  “Good night, Nareen Grant, may yer rest be peaceful.”

  There was something too calm about his words. She hesitated in the kitchen doorway, trying to deduce what it was.

  “As for meself, I am wide awake,” he continued, lowering the foot he’d had braced against the kitchen wall. “Would ye care to ride with me?”

  The impulse to nod was too strong, and she was already lowering her head before she realized what she was doin
g.

  “I cannae.”

  He chuckled and rolled his shoulders before stretching his neck and casting her a devilish look.

  “But would ye dare to, Nareen?” He moved toward the door that led out into the yard. He turned and offered her his hand. “That’s what I really want to know. Are ye going to waste yer free time or find the boldness to enjoy it?”

  “I do nae need to accept yer invitation to do as I please, now that Abigail is finished with me for the night.” She walked past him to prove it. The night air was cool and fresh, making her smile. With her belly full, her energy returned. She made her way to the stables, and her mare let out a sound of greeting.

  But Saer was the one who fit the bridle over the mare’s muzzle. He rubbed her head gently too, showing he had a care for her feelings.

  “I am nae riding with ye,” Nareen insisted.

  “I’m sorry ye lack the courage to be in me company.”

  She stiffened and faced him. “It is nae about courage.”

  Saer turned, his kilt flaring out as he slid a hand around her waist and pulled her against his body. She pressed her hands against his chest, but lost the urge to push him away when she felt how hard his body was beneath his shirt.

  “Ye should wear a doublet.”

  He cupped her nape and leaned his head to the side so she felt his breath against the skin of her neck.

  “And miss the feeling of yer hands against me skin? Nae, lass. I came here for ye. It is yer touch I was determined to feel.”

  She trembled. “Have ye no shame?”

  It was a foolish question, considering their position. He lifted his head and locked gazes with her.

  “What I have, is no use for pretense. Clothing is for keeping warm. I am nae cold, but ye can feel that, cannae ye, lass?”