The Highlander’s Demand

by Wine, Mary

  “Ye should have wed that Lindsey girl last season….as I told ye to.”

  Rolfe sent his sire a hard look. The old man coughed again and lifted a trembling hand so he could point a finger toward his son. “Age will take me from this world soon enough, lad. Ye do nae need to send me a look which implies ye’ll snap me neck.” His father chuckled. It was a rattle in his chest now.

  Rolfe ended up shrugging. “I tried, but her father would no’ have it without her consent,” Rolfe muttered. “One more season and she’d have been mine. Now Colum has managed to find himself a son. A fully grown one at that.”

  “Vychan is his son,” Laird Munro spoke clearly. “I know that story well. Everyone wanted a taste of that redhead who bore him. Tried me luck with her, but she only had eyes for Colum. If you’d wed that lass, the dowry would be in our coffers where no newly recognized son could touch it. Ye won’t be getting as much now that Vychan has come to take his place.”

  “It would still be a useful alliance,” Rolfe insisted. “I’ll get Rhedyn wed and see to the matter of her new brother. He’ll bring a connection to the McLeod. That will be worth the decrease in dowry.”

  “Laird Mackenzie took Rhedyn,” the Retainer informed them.

  “What?” Rolfe demanded. “Colum agreed to another suit? He promised her to me!”

  The Retainer shook his head. “Hamish Mackenzie accused Colum Lindsey of betraying Iain. Buchanan took the girl in payment for losing his only brother.”

  For a long moment, only the crackling of the fire was heard. Laird Munro choked and sputtered first. Rolfe sat down.

  “Looks like ye made a mess of it all, boy,” Laird Munro informed his son. “Ye’ll no be getting that lass back from Buchanan Mackenzie.”

  Rolfe glared at his father. “Can ye no spare a thought for the fact that the lass suffers for a deed I committed?”

  Laird Munro raised an eyebrow and pointed at the bandage around Rolfe’s shoulder. “Killing Iain cost ye blood, yer own blood, and eleven of our men. I admit, ye did well there, boy. But Buchanan is no’ like Iain. He’s no one to ride into the night like an untried lad seeking glory found only in the verse of song.”

  Rolfe grunted. “I’m surprised to hear Buchanan is being so easily led. Iain… well, he lacked sense, but Buchanan never struck me as the sort to follow gossip so quickly. I understand why Vychan met with his father at long last. With Rhedyn in the Mackenzie stronghold, the Lindsey clan is ripe for a bastard son to claim.”

  “Buchanan is no fool, even if he failed to control Iain,” Liard Munro agreed. “Likely, he knows what value Rhedyn has. With his father newly in his grave, it’s time for Buchanan to wed. He made use of the opportunity to take the girl without her father’s agreement. Something ye could not do.”

  “But if his clan believes Colum was responsible for Iain’s death, I doubt Buchanan will wed Rhedyn straight away. There might yet be time to reclaim her.” Rolfe flattened his hand on the table top. “It looks like me spy in the Mackenzie stronghold still has a use.”

  “So ye are no’ planning to clear Colum’s name?”

  Rolfe locked gazes with his father. “If I did that, Buchanan wouldn’t have to think of wedding Rhedyn. Buchanan is nae like his half-brother. He’ll not hurt Rhedyn.”

  “Being locked away might just make her more receptive to yer suit.” Rolfe saw the gleam in his eyes as he smiled and stroked his beard. “She’ll likely be thinking more kindly toward ye for courting her now that she’s had a taste of rough wooing.”

  “I’m more concerned that the Makenzies will see her as a target for their rage once they know I killed Iain and planned to make Rhedyn me wife,” Rolfe explained to his father.

  Rolfe dipped a quill into a small ink well and began to pen a letter. He felt a tug on his conscious but couldn’t act upon it. Not right away. Clearing Colum’s name was something he’d do. He’d take the blame for the deeds he’d done, but not while Rhedyn was in the Mackenzie stronghold. He didn’t know Buchanan well enough to trust in his ability to safeguard the lass. Once it was dry, he folded it, but didn’t seal it. Instead, he handed it over to the Retainer.

  “Ye know what to do with that.”

  The Retainer reached up and tugged on the corner of his cap. “Aye, Laird.”

  There was a scoff from the hearth. The Retainer hesitated, looking between Rolfe and the old laird. Rolfe waved him toward the door.

  “He meant no disrespect,” Rolfe assured his father once the man was gone from the room.

  “Men need a strong leader,” Laird Munro said. “I’m blessed to have ye to carry on the family line.”

  Rolfe moved toward his father and poured him a measure of whiskey. He held it for his sire, lifting it to his lips so he might sip it down. Not too long after, his father was snoring softly. The wound in Rolfe’s shoulder ached, but he didn’t indulge in any of the liquor.

  He had work to do. His father was correct; men needed a strong leader. He would prove his worth to the Munro. Iain Mackenzie was no innocent. The man had raided up and down the length of Munro land for several seasons. Rolfe wouldn’t be suffering any guilt for ridding his father’s land of the menace.

  Iain might have been sired by a laird, but the blood of his common-born mother had left its mark on him. He’d been tainted by a lack of self-discipline and low morals. Just like the mother who had taken a lover instead of wedding a man her family had contracted for her.

  Rolfe had no quarrel with Buchanan, or at least he hadn’t until the Mackenzie laird had taken Rhedyn.

  Now Rolfe was going to retrieve his bride. Buchanan would be wise to let her go.

  *

  Mackenzie land…

  There was a knock on the chamber door the next morning. Rhedyn looked toward it as she blinked and tried to manage to think. The pain in her arms sobered her quick enough. She sucked in her breath as she felt the effects of Fenella’s handiwork.

  Whoever it was knocked a second time. This time louder and with more repetitions.

  “Yes?” Rhedyn asked.

  The door opened. Shona was there, looking in first. She held her hand up once she ensured that Rhedyn was fit for company.

  “Good morning to ye, mistress,” Shona said once she was in the center of the room. The word ‘mistress’ was spoken firmly and directed toward the maids following her. The first one hesitated, causing the girl following her to bump into her.

  “To the table by the hearth,” Shona instructed them firmly.

  Two of the girls shared a glance, but it appeared no one was willing to challenge Shona. They set their trays down as one of the last girls in line came to the bedside and folded the bedding down so Rhedyn might get up.

  “The dressing robe, Una,” Shona directed her.

  There was a tapping of shoes against the wooden floor as one of the maids hurried over to a wardrobe to fetch the garment. Shona stood still, her position of authority clear. Her eyes were bright as she watched her staff.

  “After ye have broken yer fast, I will take ye to the bathhouse, mistress,” Shona continued.

  One of the maids was standing behind the chair Buchanan had sat in the night before. Rhedyn made her way to it as two of the girls set to making up the bed. She’d grown up with such attention, but today it was as though it was brand new.

  Her time with Buchanan had changed her.

  Rhedyn took a bowl from the maid who had stayed near her. It was warm from the porridge inside it. She couldn’t help but let out a little sound of enjoyment as the chill of the night was chased from her fingers. Every movement sent pain through her arms and back, but it was lessened by the memory of having only one meal a day. Tyree had delivered it late, too. Likely so she’d not have a rumbling belly in the dark hours of the night to keep her awake. However, it meant mornings were long as she waited for more sustenance.

  So many little comforts… She’d not forget to notice them again.

  “Did ye say bath?” Rhedyn finally realized what Sho
na had meant.

  “Aye.” Shona grinned. “The water is already over the fire. I imagine ye will want to go straight away.”

  In spite of her resolve to savor every moment, Rhedyn suddenly hurried to finish her meal. Her skin began to itch with just the mention of being able to clean herself. As soon as she finished the porridge, she stood, convinced she could smell herself.

  “Please show me the way, Shona.”

  Shona lowered herself again. “The laird has instructed me to make certain ye are treated as his personal guest.”

  Her voice carried to every corner of the chamber. The maids clearly realized the statement was intended for their ears. Shona directed them, and she was lowering herself before Rhedyn, which would place Rhedyn’s position in the household just below Cora’s.

  Buchanan had clearly decided on the next step after sharing a drink with her…

  But Rhedyn discovered herself at a loss on just how to think of Buchanan if she didn’t keep him clearly labeled as her captor.

  “How…considerate of Laird Mackenzie.” Rhedyn nearly choked on the words.

  A memory stirred, rising up suddenly from where it had lingered during the night. Her cheek tingled as she recalled in vivid detail the way he’d stroked the side of her face. A little shiver went down her body, shocking her with just how responsive to his touch she appeared to be.

  How could a memory stir her emotions so deeply?

  “This way, Mistress Lindsey.”

  Rhedyn discovered herself blinking several times before her mind grasped Shona’s words. Heat touched her cheeks as she nodded and followed Shona down three flights of stairs. The morning sun was streaming in through the arrow slits, brightening everything. Once they reached the main floor, the passageway opened up. The sounds of others working and talking floated between the stone walls.

  She’d missed such things.

  Rhedyn couldn’t stop from smiling, and she didn’t try. Why be sullen when life would no doubt offer her plenty of times to be downhearted? Savor the moments of joy and look for the blessings she had in her hand instead of the ones beyond her reach. It had always been her way and now, well, such behavior seemed far more important than ever before.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t always known her future would involve going to a place where she was a stranger. As a daughter of a laird, the matter of her marriage would be decided upon with an eye on alliances and gain for her clan. If she wanted happiness, she’d have to cultivate it with whatever circumstances reality delivered her into. Marriage might make her the mistress of a household, but true friendship would have to be carefully cultivated if she didn’t want an empty life with naught but her position to keep her happy.

  Rhedyn shook off her thoughts. She was not Buchanan’s bride. The pain in her shoulders and arms were proof that she wasn’t the mistress of this stronghold. Yet, he’d given her status.

  And freed ye from the tower room…

  Rhedyn closed her mind to any other thoughts but positive ones. Soon, the entire affair would be only a memory. One she looked to as a reminder her life was good. No, Buchanan hadn’t told her he was sending her home, but it really was only a matter of time now. She would be his guest until his captains agreed with letting her go.

  The bathhouse was on the main floor behind a kitchen. It was not the huge kitchen Fenella ran but a smaller one which would likely date further back in time to before the great hall had been added to the Mackenzie stronghold.

  Now the chamber served as a bathhouse. The hearth had a fire built in it and several large iron hooks had pots suspended over the flames. There were three large tubs set up against one wall. Their insides faced the fire where the wood was dry from the heat. Near the hearth, one tub was waiting. It had been filled with cold water in anticipation of her arrival. One of the maids lifted a long, iron hook and used it to pull one of the pots out of the flames. She wrapped the handle with a thick piece of wool to protect her fingers from burning before carrying it to the tub and dumping it.

  There was a hiss as the hot water mixed with the cold. The other pots were added and then the contents were mixed with a long, wooden paddle.

  Two of the maids began to open Rhedyn’s dressing robe, but she tried to stop them.

  “I can see to meself, thank ye.”

  Shona turned her attention away from a chest she had taken soap from.

  “That will nae do, mistress,” Shona replied softly as she came close and finished untying the belt which held the dressing robe together. She locked gazes with Rhedyn. “Gossip has already landed ye here, with no care for right or wrong or fairness.” Shona continued in a smooth tone, “Best to no’ allow any more vicious tongues to wag on account of any marks yer body might have but does nae.”

  Rhedyn drew in a stiff breath, but there was no denying the truth of her words. Modesty might be considered a virtue, but among only women in a bathhouse, it could also be wielded as a weapon by those who might want to accuse Rhedyn of having a witch mark or any number of other ailments.

  Yet, she faced such things on Lindsey land, too, so it was far from personal.

  It was simply the way things were.

  “As ye say,” Rhedyn agreed.

  She released the edges of the dressing grown. The maids knew their duties well, easing the robe down Rhedyn’s arms and carrying it away.

  Such was another lesson she’d learned young as the daughter of a laird. There would be eyes upon her. And it was wise to keep yer enemy close.

  Truly, life was far too vicious.

  One of the maids was frozen. She stood with Rhedyn’s smock in her fingers, staring at the purple bruises on Rhedyn’s forearms. Another hiss from the tub sounded, and Rhedyn was far more interested in making the most of her time to bathe. The bruises would still be there when she finished.

  It wasn’t as if there was anyone who didn’t know how the bruises had gotten there.

  The soap had lavender oil in it. Once it was worked through her wet hair, her senses were filled with the delightful scent. A maid scooped up water to pour over Rhedyn’s head while another used a soft brush to make sure her toenails were clean. Unfortunately, the water cooled off quickly. Shona snapped her fingers as Rhedyn stood and stepped out of the tub. A length of linen was pulled from a rack where it had been warming near the hearth. The fabric soaked up the water left on her skin.

  “Turn around now so yer hair can dry,” Shona advised.

  A maid placed a stool near the hearth as another held a fresh smock. The garment settled into place as Rhedyn sat down, and Shona began to work the tangles from her hair with a comb.

  “Thank ye, Shona.”

  There was a soft hum from behind her as Shona continued with her work. Before long, Rhedyn’s hair was a fluffy cloud. She now wore stockings, garters, and shoes, which made it possible for her to stand without placing her feet on the bare floor.

  “Yer dress is ill suited to the highlands beyond an afternoon celebration,” Shona said. “I brought a few to try for sizing, but we’ll have something made up by next week.”

  Shona was a master of her position. The woman kept her tone even and sweet, as though she were speaking of nothing but the weather instead of a new dress, which was an expense. A large one, for wool was only produced once a year. The fresh smock Rhedyn wore would have been considered generous, for it was made of the finest hemp and soft. The edges of the garment had been carefully rolled and sewn.

  But her words weren’t lost on the maids. More than one pair of eyes widened as Shona lifted a petticoat up for Rhedyn to put her arms through. Shona helped settle the garment around her waist, where she then used a tie to secure it in place.

  “A good enough fit,” Shona remarked as she went back to where a set of stays were laying on a table.

  “Good day, Mistress Lindsey.”

  Rhedyn turned to see Cora. The girl stopped just inside the doorway and lowered herself in a proper greeting. Her eyes sparkled.

  “We meet a
gain, Cora,” Rhedyn said.

  “I am very glad ye have come out of the tower,” Cora said. “Me birthday is just two days away, and I will be very happy to have ye here to help guide me.”

  Cora’s zeal for life was infectious. Rhedyn smiled at her. “And how old will ye be this year?”

  “Seventeen.”

  Cora had made it nearly all the way into the room. She looked Rhedyn over—clearly there to inspect her bruises. The maids waited to see what the laird’s sister would do.

  “Fenella should have a taste of her own actions,” Cora muttered darkly.

  “Please, be at ease,” Rhedyn said. “Yer brother has dealt with the matter.”

  “Words do nae make amends for deeds,” Cora insisted. “Fenella gave ye more than ten blows because it’s been far too long since she felt the rod on her own flesh. Ye are being polite, just the way me tutors tell me I will have to behave when I am wed. But Fenella is me kin, and I am not some bride brought here for the sake of the clan. She’ll get what she deserves.”

  The girl didn’t intend to stay and listen. She turned and bolted toward the door.

  “Cora.” It was too late. Cora’s skirt was just clearing the doorframe.

  Rhedyn went after the girl, leaving the bathhouse behind as she charged into the passageway.

  But an arm snaked out and caught Rhedyn around her middle. Buchanan’s scent filled her nostrils as he hefted her right off her feet.

  “What?” Rhedyn exclaimed. She pushed at him, but she might as well have tried to force her way through a stone wall. Buchanan didn’t budge.

  He grunted and hauled her back into the chamber.

  “Are ye daft, woman?” he demanded as he placed himself in the doorway. “Are ye senseless enough to go running through the passageway in naught but yer shift?”

  The look on his face made it plain that he was expecting her to bend to his will, but something stirred inside her. Whatever had awakened between them, refused to allow her to lower her head. It was as if she needed to prove her worth.

  “How dare ye accuse me of being foolish,” Rhedyn chastised. “Cora is going to have Fenella beaten.”