To Tame a Highland Warrior

by Karen Marie Moning

“How dare you!” she cried. The instinct to slap the smirk from his face was overwhelming, and she acted upon it reflexively.

  Ramsay’s face whitened with rage, and the red welt from her blow stood out in stark relief. He caught her other wrist and pulled her close, bristling with anger. “You’ll regret that one day, lass.” He shoved her away so savagely, she stumbled. For an instant she saw something so brutal in his eyes that she feared he might force her to the ground and beat her, or worse. She scrambled to her feet and dashed for the castle on trembling legs.

  “He’s not coming back, Jillian,” Kaley said gently.

  “I know that! For God’s sake, could everyone please just quit saying that to me? Do I look dense? Is that it?”

  Kaley eyes filled with tears, and Jillian was instantly remorseful. “Oh, Kaley, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I haven’t been myself lately. It’s just that I’m worried about … things …”

  “Things like babies?” Kaley said carefully.

  Jillian stiffened.

  “Is it possible …” Kaley trailed off.

  Jillian averted her gaze guiltily.

  “Oh, lass.” Kaley wrapped her in her ample embrace. “Oh, lass,” she echoed helplessly.

  Two weeks later, Gibraltar and Elizabeth St. Clair returned.

  Jillian was torn by mixed emotions. She was elated to have them home, yet she dreaded seeing them, so she hid in her chambers and waited for them to come to her. And they did, but not until the next morning. In retrospect, she realized she’d been a fool to give her clever da any time to ferret out information before confronting her.

  When the summons finally came, she shivered, and the last vestige of excitement at seeing her parents turned to pure dread. She dragged her feet all the way to the study.

  “Mama! Da!” Jillian exclaimed. She vaulted into their arms, greedily snatching hugs before they could launch the interrogation she knew was coming.

  “Jillian.” Gibraltar terminated the hug so quickly, Jillian knew she was in dire straits indeed.

  “How’s Hugh? And my new nephew?” she asked brightly.

  Gibraltar and Elizabeth exchanged glances, then Elizabeth sank into a chair near the fire, abandoning Jillian to deal with Gibraltar by herself.

  “Have you chosen a husband yet, Jillian?” Gibraltar skirted all niceties.

  Jillian drew a deep breath. “That’s what I wished to speak with you about, Da. I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She swallowed nervously as Gibraltar eyed her dispassionately. Dispassionate never boded well for her—it meant her da was furious. She cleared her throat anxiously. “I have decided, after much consideration, I mean, I’ve really thought this through … that I … um—” Jillian broke off. She had to stop warbling like an idiot—her da would never be swayed by tepid protests. “Da … I really don’t plan to wed. Ever.” There, it was out. “I mean, I appreciate everything you and Mama have done for me, never think I don’t, but marriage is just not for me.” She punctuated her words with a confident nod.

  Gibraltar regarded her with an unnerving mixture of amusement and condescension. “Nice try, Jillian. But I’m not playing games anymore. I brought three men here for you. Only two are left, and you will marry one of them. I’ve had it with your shenanigans. You’re going to be twenty-two in a month, and either de Moncreiffe or Logan will make a perfectly good husband. There will be no more moping about and no crafty little ploys. Which one will you wed?” he demanded, a bit more forcefully than he’d intended.

  “Gibraltar!” Elizabeth protested. She rose from her chair, ruffled by his high-handed tone.

  “Stay out of this, Elizabeth. She’s played me for a fool for the last time. Jillian will summon up one reason after another why she can’t wed until we’re both too old to do anything about it.”

  “Gibraltar, we will not force her to wed someone she doesn’t want.” Elizabeth stamped a dainty foot to punctuate her decree.

  “She’s going to have to accept the fact that she can’t have the man she wants, Elizabeth. He was here and he left. And that’s the end of the matter.” Gibraltar sighed, eyeing his daughter’s rigid back as she stood plucking at the folds of her gown. “Elizabeth, I tried. Don’t you think I tried? I knew how Jillian felt about Grimm. But I won’t force the man to wed her, and even if I did, what good would that do? Jillian doesn’t want a forced husband.”

  “You knew I loved him?” Jillian exclaimed. She almost ran to him, but caught herself and stiffened further.

  Gibraltar almost laughed; a broom handle couldn’t have been more rigid than his daughter’s spine. Stubborn just like her mother. “Of course, lass. I’ve seen it in your eyes for years. So I brought him here for you. And now Kaley tells me that he left a sennight ago and told you to marry Quinn. Jillian, he’s gone. He’s made his feelings clear.” Gibraltar drew himself up. “I am not going to fling my daughter at some inconsiderate bastard who’s too much a fool to see what kind of treasure he’d be getting. I will not gift my Jillian to a man who can’t appreciate how rare a woman she is. What kind of father would I be to chase a man down and throw my daughter after him?”

  Elizabeth sniffed, blinking back a tear. “You brought him because you knew she loved him,” she cooed. “Oh, Gibraltar! Even though I didn’t think he was right for her, you saw through it all. You knew what Jillian wanted.”

  Gibraltar’s pleasure at his wife’s adoration quickly evaporated when Jillian’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “I never knew you knew how I felt, Da,” Jillian said in a small voice.

  “Of course I did. Just as I know how you feel now. But you have to face the facts. He left, Jillian—”

  “I know he left! Must you all keep reminding me?”

  “Yes, if you persist in trying to fritter your life away. I gave him the chance, and he was too much a fool to take it. You must move on with your life, lass.”

  “He didn’t think he was good enough for me,” Jillian murmured.

  “Is that what he said?” Elizabeth asked quickly.

  Jillian blew a tendril of hair from her face. “Sort of. He said that I couldn’t possibly understand what would happen if he married me. And he’s right. Whatever terrible thing he thinks it is, I can’t even begin to guess. He acts like there’s some dreadful secret about him, and Mama, I can’t convince him otherwise. I can’t even begin to imagine what horrible thing he thinks is wrong with him. Grimm Roderick is the best man I’ve ever known, except for you, Da.” Jillian smiled weakly at her father before crossing to the window to stare out at the blackened lawn.

  Gibraltar’s eyes narrowed and he gazed thoughtfully at Elizabeth, who had raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  She still doesn’t know. Tell her, Elizabeth mouthed, shooting a glance at her daughter’s stiff back.

  That he’s a Berserker? Gibraltar mouthed back, disbelieving. He must tell her himself.

  He can’t. He’s not here!

  He refuses. And I won’t fix it for him. If he can’t bring himself to trust her, she shouldn’t marry him. He’s obviously not man enough for my Jillian.

  Our Jillian.

  He shrugged. Crossing the study, he cupped Jillian’s shoulders with comforting hands. “I’m sorry, Jillian. I truly am. I thought maybe he’d changed over the years. But he hasn’t. Still, it doesn’t alter that fact that you must wed. I’d like it to be Quinn.”

  She stiffened and hissed softly. “I am not marrying anyone.”

  “Yes, you are,” Gibraltar enunciated sternly. “I am posting the banns tomorrow, and in three weeks’ time you are going to marry someone.”

  Jillian whirled around to face him, her eyes flashing. “You should know I became his lover.”

  Elizabeth fanned herself furiously.

  Gibraltar shrugged.

  Elizabeth gaped, first at Jillian, then at her unresponsive husband.

  “That’s all? A shrug?” Jillian blinked at her father disbelievingly. “Well, while you may not care, I hardly think my husban
d-to-be would cheerily accept it, do you, Da?”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” Quinn said quietly, startling them all with his unannounced presence. “I’d marry you on any terms, Jillian.”

  All eyes flew to Quinn de Moncreiffe, whose broad golden frame filled the doorway.

  “Good man,” Gibraltar said firmly.

  “Oh, Quinn!” Jillian said sadly. “You deserve better …”

  “I’ve told you as much before, lass. I’ll take you on any terms. Grimm’s a fool, but I’m not. I’ll marry you happily. No regrets. I’ve never understood why a woman’s supposed to be untouched when a man’s expected to be as touched as possible.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Gibraltar concluded quickly.

  “No, it’s not!”

  “Yes, it is, Jillian,” Gibraltar said sternly. “You will marry in three weeks. Period. End of conversation.” He turned away.

  “You can’t do this to me!”

  “Wait.” Ramsay Logan stepped into the doorway behind Quinn. “I’d like to offer for her too.”

  Gibraltar assessed the two men in the doorway and slowly turned his regard to his daughter, who stood, mouth ajar.

  “You have twelve hours to choose, Jillian. I post the banns at dawn.”

  “Mama, you can’t let him do this!” Jillian wailed.

  Elizabeth St. Clair drew herself erect and sniffed before following Gibraltar from the study.

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing now, Gibraltar?” Elizabeth demanded.

  Gibraltar leaned back, resting on the sill of the window in their bedroom, the hair on his chest glinting gold between the folds of his silk robe in the soft glow of the firelight.

  Elizabeth reclined on the bed nude and, Gibraltar marveled, breathtaking. “By Odin’s spear, woman, you know I can refuse you nothing when I see you like that.”

  “Then don’t make Jillian wed, love,” Elizabeth said simply. There were no games between her and her husband, and there never had been. Elizabeth firmly believed most problems in a relationship could be cleared up or avoided entirely by clear, concise communication. Games invited unnecessary discord.

  “I don’t plan to,” Gibraltar replied with a faint smile. “It will never go that far.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Elizabeth removed the pins from her hair, allowing it to cascade in golden waves over her bare breasts. “Is this another one of your infamous plans, Gibraltar?” she asked with lazy amusement.

  “Yes.” He sank to the edge of the bed beside her. He ran his hand down the smooth shape of her side, contouring the lovely indentation of her waist, soaring over the lush curve of her hip. “If she hadn’t admitted that she’d become his lover, I might not have felt so confident. But he’s a Berserker, Elizabeth. There is only one true mate for each Berserker, and they know it. He cannot allow the wedding to take place. A Berserker would die first.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes brightened, and understanding penetrated her sensual languor. “You’re posting the banns to antagonize him. Because it’s the most effective way to force him to declare himself.”

  “As always, we understand each other perfectly, don’t we, my dear? What better way to bring him back at a run?”

  “How clever. I hadn’t thought of that. There’s no way a Berserker would allow his mate to wed another.”

  “Let’s just hope all the legends about those warriors are true, Elizabeth. Gavrael’s da told me years ago that once a Berserker makes love with his own true mate, he can no longer mate another woman. Gavrael is even more Berserk than his da. He’ll come for her, and when he does, he’ll have no choice but to tell her the truth. We’ll get our wedding in three weeks, no doubt about it, and it will be to the man she wants—Grimm.”

  “What about Quinn’s feelings?”

  “Quinn doesn’t really believe she’ll marry him. He is also of the opinion that Grimm will come. I spoke with Quinn before I made Jillian choose, and he agreed to do this. Although I must admit, Ramsay certainly surprised me with his offer.”

  “You mean you had this all planned out before you confronted her?” Elizabeth was amazed once again by the twists and turns of her husband’s brilliant scheming mind.

  “It was one of several possible plans,” Gibraltar corrected. “A man must anticipate every possibility when the women he loves are concerned.”

  “My hero.” Elizabeth fluttered her eyelashes.

  Gibraltar covered her body with his. “I’ll show you a hero,” he growled.

  Gibraltar hadn’t thought that even his cosseted Jillian could pout, sulk, and be nasty for three solid weeks.

  She could.

  Ever since the morning she’d slipped a note bearing one word, “Quinn,” under her parents’ bedroom door, she’d refused to speak to him in anything but single-word replies. Everyone else in the castle she harangued with the same questions: how many banns had been posted, when, and where.

  “Were they posted in Durrkesh, Kaley?” Jillian fretted.

  “Yes, Jillian.”

  “What about Scurrington and Edinburgh?”

  “Yes, Jillian.” Hatchard sighed, knowing it was futile to remind her he’d answered the same question the day before.

  “And the smaller villages in the Highlands? When were they posted there?”

  “Days ago, Jillian.” Gibraltar interrupted her interrogation.

  Jillian sniffed and turned her back on her da.

  “Why do you care where the banns have been posted?” Gibraltar provoked.

  “Just curious,” Jillian said lightly as she strode regally from the room.

  “He’ll come, Mama. I know he will.”

  Elizabeth smiled and smoothed Jillian’s hair, but weeks passed and Grimm didn’t come.

  Even Quinn started to get a little nervous.

  “What will we do if he doesn’t show?” Quinn asked. He paced the study, moving his long legs silently. The wedding was tomorrow and no one had heard a word from Grimm Roderick.

  Gibraltar poured them both a drink. “He has to come.”

  Quinn picked up the goblet and sipped thoughtfully. “He must know the wedding is tomorrow. The only way he could possibly not know is if he is no longer in Scotland. We posted those blasted banns in every village of over fivescore inhabitants.”

  Gibraltar and Quinn stared at the fire and drank for a time in silence.

  “If he doesn’t come, I’ll go through with it.”

  “Now, why would you be doing that, lad?” Gibraltar asked gently.

  Quinn shrugged. “I love her. I always have.”

  Gibraltar shook his head. “There’s love and then there’s love, Quinn. And if you’re not ready to kill Grimm simply for touching Jillian, then it’s not the marrying kind of love you’re feeling. She’s not for you.”

  When Quinn made no reply, Gibraltar laughed aloud and slapped him on the thigh. “Oh, she’s definitely not for you. You didn’t even argue with me.”

  “Grimm said something very similar. He asked me if I really loved her—if she made me crazy inside.”

  Gibraltar smiled knowingly. “That’s because she does make him crazy inside.”

  “I want her to be happy, Gibraltar,” Quinn said fervently. “Jillian is special. She’s generous and beautiful and so … och, so damned in love with Grimm!”

  Gibraltar raised his goblet to Quinn’s and smiled. “That she is. If push comes to shove, I’ll stop the ceremony and give her a choice. But I won’t let her marry you without giving her that choice.” As he drank, he regarded Quinn thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m not sure I’d let her marry you even then.”

  “You wound me,” Quinn protested.

  “She’s my baby girl, Quinn. I want love for her. Real love. The kind that makes a man crazy inside.”

  Jillian curled into a ball on the window ledge of the drum tower and stared, unseeing, into the night. Thousands of stars dimpled the sky, but she saw none of them. Staring into the night was like staring into a great vacuum—her fu
ture without Grimm.

  How could she wed Quinn?

  How could she refuse? Grimm obviously wasn’t coming.

  The banns had been posted throughout the country. There was absolutely no way he could not know that tomorrow Jillian St. Clair was going to wed Quinn de Moncreiffe. The whole blasted country knew it.

  Three weeks ago she might have run away.

  But not tonight, not three weeks late for her monthly flow, not with no word from Grimm. Not after believing in him and being proven a lovesick fool.

  Jillian rested her palm on her stomach. It was possible she was pregnant, but she wasn’t absolutely certain. Her monthly flow had often been irregular and she had been later than this in the past. Mama had told her that many things besides pregnancy could affect a woman’s courses: emotional turmoil … or a woman’s own devout wish that she was pregnant.

  Was that it? Did she so long to be pregnant with Grimm Roderick’s child that she’d fooled herself? Or was there truly a baby growing inside her? How she wished she knew for certain. She drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly. Only time would tell.

  She’d considered striking out on her own, tracking him down, and fighting for their love, but a defiant shred of pride coupled with good common sense made her refuse. Grimm was in the thick of a battle with himself, and it was a battle he had to win or lose. She’d offered her love, told him she would accept any kind of life as long as they lived it together. A woman shouldn’t have to fight the man she loved for his love. He had to choose to give it freely, to learn that love was the one thing in this world that wasn’t frightening.

  He was an intelligent man and a brave one. He would come.

  Jillian sighed. God forgive her, but she still believed.

  He would come.

  CHAPTER 23

  HE DIDN’T COME.

  The day of her wedding dawned cloudy and cold. Sleet started falling at dawn, coating the charred lawn with a layer of crunchy black ice.

  Jillian stayed in bed, listening to the sounds of the castle preparing for the wedding feast. Her stomach rumbled a welcome to the scents of roasting ham and pheasant. It was a feast to wake the dead, and it worked; she stumbled from the bed and groped her way through the dimly lit room to the mirror. She stared at her reflection. Dark shadows marred the delicate skin where her cheekbones met her tilted amber eyes.