My Highland Warrior (Warriors of the Highlands Book 1)

by Miriam Minger

  He heard Magdalene gasp, too, no longer shrieking but gulping air as if she fully understood what he had just threatened. She went limp upon him, the hand that had grabbed a fistful of his hair to wrench it from his scalp, instantly loosening its grip.

  Relieved to note that she wasn’t entirely without reason, Gabriel waited a few moments to make sure she didn’t start struggling again…and then lifted her from his shoulder and set her down on the floor. He kept a grip on one slim arm, though, while Magdalene hung her head and stared with little visible emotion at her bare feet.

  Bare feet that were soon shod with leather slippers, a delicate white shift and deep blue gown pulled down over her head by the two nuns who fluttered anxiously around her. Meanwhile, Sister Agnes stood in the doorway and watched the proceedings, though Gabriel could see that the woman’s lips moved furtively in silent prayer.

  He should send up a prayer or two as well, he thought grimly, the vision of his life stretching before him with a lunatic as his bride a bleak one.

  She hadn’t always been this way, the poor lass. His memory stirred from looking at her, he recalled her as a girl when he’d first entered Donal MacDougall’s service six years ago and stood guard with other young warriors in the great hall or out in the bailey. Magdalene had flitted here and there like a golden-haired ray of sunshine, always giggling and smiling, though Gabriel had paid her little heed.

  It had been her older sister, Debora, who had mesmerized all of the men with her beauty and grace—och, she’d died not long after her ill-fated wedding and everything with the MacDougalls had changed.

  Earl Donal turned reclusive and ill-tempered, and Lady Elspeth so grief-stricken she went mad. Their only son, Seoras, had taken three dozen men, including Gabriel, and left to fight on various campaigns for the last four years, the man making no secret of wishing his father dead so he would become earl of the MacDougalls.

  Seoras had spoken only once of Magdalene in all that time, that she’d gone mad, too, and then hadn’t mentioned her name again until he had foisted her upon Gabriel.

  As if all the fight had gone out of her—for the moment anyway, he had no doubt—she didn’t utter a whisper or make a move to lift her head during the nuns’ ministrations, which only heightened the pity he felt for her.

  Clearly he wasn’t the only one whose world had been turned upside down so ruthlessly by Seoras, but Gabriel blamed his brother, too. Malcolm had inherited MacLachlan Castle and the surrounding lands upon their father’s death—and then nearly pitched the place into financial ruin with his exorbitant spending.

  Aye, Gabriel had loved him, his untimely death came as a shock, but it had been Malcolm’s reckless ways that had cast Gabriel into his current predicament.

  Indebted by marriage to Seoras, whose growing lust to attain the throne of Scotland for himself had become so plain to see, all of which secretly sickened Gabriel.

  And now a bride whose very life would be threatened the moment she crossed the threshold of her new home—

  “She’s ready, Laird. Will you carry her or shall she walk on her own?”

  Gabriel barely acknowledged Sister Agnes’s hushed query for the tears that had begun to trickle down Magdalene’s pale cheeks, which made him curse under his breath.

  Damn Malcolm and damn Seoras MacDougall, too! He was no brute or terrorizer of women!

  In truth, Magdalene looked so beautiful at that moment in her childlike despair that he felt his breath snag in his throat.

  Her waist-length hair dry now and brushed to a glistening sheen.

  Her clothing accentuating the curves of her body, the bodice clinging to the pert outline of her breasts.

  A costly, fur-trimmed cloak draped across her delicate shoulders.

  That left him to don his breacan once again since she no longer needed it, Gabriel winding the plaid garment like a mantle around him and then tying it at his waist. She stood so much shorter than him that she’d nearly been smothered to her knees by the thing, while the breacan covered his broad shoulders and hung to his hips, and no further.

  With everything clearly in readiness, he reached out his hand to her, not surprised at all when she flinched and took a step away from him.

  “I told you, Magdalene, I’ll not hurt you. Never hurt you, I vow it. Take my hand and walk with me tae greet my men as their new lady, will you?”

  Again, he wasn’t surprised when she simply stood there and didn’t answer him, though this time she lifted her head and stared at him with a tear-filled gaze that made his heart lurch in his chest.

  Her eyes a stunning green fringed by damp brown lashes, Gabriel inwardly cursing again the inexorable forces that bound him to a bride who was clearly more a child in her mind and ways than a grown woman of eighteen years. A lump growing in his throat, he didn’t ask again but gently took her hand, which lay limply in his, though her touch was warm.

  Aye, life could be so cruel, he had seen it time and time again in battle.

  In the pinched faces of the people in his care who might have starved if not for the bargain he’d struck with Seoras.

  In the trusting eyes of Keira and Rhona, who looked to him now as their father—his young nieces so excited to meet their new mother.

  Little did the children know that Magdalene’s infirmity would make her more of a playmate…if her changeable temperament would even allow that much interaction between them.

  “Come, Magdalene.”

  To his relief, she didn’t resist him, though the sorrowful look she cast at Sister Agnes as they walked past her and the two other nuns standing silently in the hall cut Gabriel deeply.

  Yet in the next instant he hardened his heart, knowing there was no help for it—for any of it.

  The thing was done. For better and worse, he and Magdalene were husband and wife.

  If he was fortunate, she’d remain as docile for the entire journey back to MacLachlan Castle, though his gut told him from the sudden tension in her slim fingers that he wasn’t going to be so lucky.

  Magdalene had all she could do to walk calmly toward the open convent gate, though she wanted nothing more than to bolt back to the sleeping quarters.

  Nothing more than to free her fingers from the man who held them so firmly as if Gabriel sensed the tempest brewing inside her.

  Sister Agnes had already bid her goodbye with a kiss to her cheek, while Sister Tabitha and Sister Hestia had gone to join the rest of the nuns clustered in an anxious-looking group near the fountain. If Magdalene had said, “Boo!” to them, she was certain they would have all jumped out of their skins, but instead she walked silently alongside Gabriel—deliberating about what she intended to do next.

  How would she ever be able to return to the convent if she didn’t frustrate him at every turn? Together they walked through the gate to where two dozen or so men awaited them—Magdalene drawing in her breath at the forbidding line of armed warriors.

  “My wife and your lady…Magdalene MacLachlan!” Gabriel announced, every man to the last one brandishing a sword to salute her.

  She found herself thinking that if things were different and she wasn’t feigning lunacy, she might have acknowledged them with a smile and a graceful nod of her head. Instead, she gazed at them as blankly as she could muster, allowing no emotion upon her face, which made Gabriel sigh heavily.

  “Bring my horse.”

  At once a man came riding forth in answer to Gabriel’s brusque command, leading the most magnificent silvery gray stallion Magdalene had ever seen. She couldn’t quell the excitement that suddenly swept her—oh, aye, she loved to ride! That was the one thing she’d missed while at the convent, though she grew unsettled just as quickly when it dawned upon her that she and Gabriel would be atop the horse together.

  How could it be otherwise? She was a lunatic, after all. Certainly he didn’t believe that she could do much of anything by herself, let alone command her own mount.

  He tossed the one meager bag of her belongings to a
nother of his men, and then turned to face her. She gasped as his strong hands encircled her waist. He lifted her without a hint of effort onto the saddle so that she sat astride, though he didn’t readily mount after gathering the reins. Instead, he once again addressed his men.

  “We’ll ride as far as we can with the sunlight that remains, and then stop for a few hours tae rest the horses—by God, woman!”

  Magdalene laughed with exhilaration from seizing the reins from him, and dug her heels into the stallion’s sides before Gabriel could grab them back.

  With a wild whoop, she took off riding straight for his men, who shouted and scattered right and left so she wouldn’t careen into them.

  Och, she couldn’t believe how easy that had been to take the whole lot of them by surprise! Leaning forward in the saddle, Magdalene thrilled at the power of the animal lunging beneath her.

  They would never catch her, she was certain of it! How could they when she was galloping atop such a fine beast? If she rode fast enough and far enough, she’d be able to hide in the hills and perhaps they would never find her—

  “Aagh!” A shrill whistle sounding behind her, Magdalene nearly toppled from the saddle when the stallion pulled up and veered around to gallop straight back toward the convent.

  All she could do was hold onto the reins for dear life, her heart thundering, her widened gaze fixed upon Gabriel standing at the same spot where she’d left him.

  His arms folded across his chest, his legs braced wide, and an ominous scowl on his face as once again, his men and their horses scattered to make way for her.

  His stallion came to an abrupt stop only feet away from him, the creature tossing its head and whinnying as if glad to see him.

  Without a word, Gabriel loosed the reins from her clenched fingers and with amazing agility, vaulted onto the saddle behind her. He pulled her so hard against him that she exhaled in a whoosh, one hard, muscled arm tightening around her before she could draw a decent breath.

  She stared straight ahead, most of his men looking astonished as if they couldn’t believe what they had just witnessed…while one of them, nearly as large a man as Gabriel but with midnight hair, grinned amiably.

  “Och, she can ride like the wind…a good thing tae know, wouldna you say, Gabriel?”

  The man’s easy tone making it clear to Magdalene that the two knew each other well, Gabriel nonetheless didn’t sound amused as he urged his stallion into a trot.

  “Conall, you and Cameron ride ahead and keep watch for any trouble.”

  At once Conall nodded while another man joined him, Magdalene guessing them to be brothers from Cameron’s raven-black hair, similar good looks, and brawny physique—though he looked a bit older. As the rest of the warriors fell into line behind Gabriel, he shifted his legs so that his hard thighs pressed against her rump, making her blush furiously.

  “You could have been killed, wife,” he muttered into her right ear, his warm breath tickling her and making her flush even more. She had to bite her tongue not to retort that she’d been raised to ride a horse since a wee girl, Magdalene wishing at that moment she wasn’t feigning lunacy so she could give him a rousing piece of her mind!

  Instead she leaned her head back against his shoulder and began to laugh as crazily as she could muster—his arm loosening around her in surprise while his mount snorted and tossed its head.

  She heard Gabriel’s low curse, but she kept right on laughing until he apparently could withstand it no longer and clapped a large, callused hand over her mouth.

  “Enough, woman! If we’ve enemies in these hills, you’ll surely bring them down upon us!”

  Magdalene thought to bite his fingers, finding it hard to breathe though he hadn’t covered her nose, yet she decided to save that tactic for another time.

  Aye, it wouldn’t be long until the high and mighty, all powerful Laird Gabriel MacLachlan would be glad to be rid of her.

  Already she was making great progress by stealing his horse, though damn the man! How was she to know he had trained the beast to answer his whistle?

  Laughing like a madwoman, oh, aye, she planned to do that often since it had irked him so, and mayhap she’d find another opportunity to knock him on his arse.

  She was going to enjoy every minute of making him regret he’d ever taken her as his bride!

  Chapter 4

  Gabriel scanned the clearing in the waning moonlight, and decided this place was as good as they would find to rest for a few hours.

  The horses were tired, his men were tired, and all of them needed fresh water. He could hear the gentle burbling of a creek nearby, which would quench that basic requirement.

  First water, then food—such as it was, salted strips of dried venison and even drier bread, but that was the extent of their provisions for this journey.

  Then a strict rotation of men sleeping for two hours while others stood watch during the time they spent here, which he judged would be no more than six hours. He wanted them to be well on their way before sunrise; Gabriel determined that they would return to MacLachlan Castle on the morrow by midnight.

  Danger was always afoot, either from warring Scots clans or the English, who tramped across Scotland at will and sometimes made no effort to differentiate between friends or foe before drawing swords and blood.

  To most it appeared that Seoras supported King Edward, known as Longshanks and to whom he owed much of his lands and prosperity. Yet Gabriel knew that in Seoras’s cold, ambitious heart, he had yearned to become king of Scotland ever since their overlord, John “Red” Comyn, had met his demise in February the year before at the hands of Robert the Bruce.

  The Bruces against the Comyns, thus it had been for years as the two powerful families had vied for power, but six weeks after Red Comyn’s murder, Robert had gotten himself crowned king of Scots and chaos ensued. Many opposed him, including King Edward and the kin and supporters of the Comyns who thirsted for revenge. After Edward’s forces defeated Robert at the battle of Methven, he had fled into hiding until three months ago. Skirmishes, night raids, and ambushes had become the order of the day since Robert had reemerged in Ayrshire to the south of Argyll to begin a guerrilla war, and for all Gabriel knew, he might be closer than afar.

  No matter. If Gabriel and his men came upon Robert and his ragtag followers, if they had been foolhardy enough to venture north, he had his orders.

  Seoras wanted Robert the Bruce’s severed head on a platter—although after Seoras’s treacherous bargain, Gabriel was becoming secretly convinced that the better man already bore the title of king of Scots.

  “Wake, Magdalene…wake,” he grated, though she slept so soundly in his arms that she didn’t stir an eyelash. After that wild outburst of laughter, she had settled down into a stony silence that had continued until she fell asleep, though at times he had known she’d awakened briefly by the tension in her body.

  A feminine body so lush and warm against him, Gabriel had found himself plagued the entire rest of the day’s journey by visions of her running naked across the courtyard, naked in the fountain, naked in her room—by God, he couldn’t shake himself from it! The memory of the silkiness of her skin when he’d slapped her bottom still stirred him, though he didn’t want to even think of it.

  Need he remind himself that his wife was more a child than a woman to be desired? Seoras may be expecting him to bed her at once to consummate their marriage, but Gabriel had no more intention of doing so than he would cut his own throat. The thought sickened him and incensed him by turns, and he nudged his horse further into the clearing as he shook her—perhaps a bit too roughly.

  She gasped and glanced up at him as if in confusion to be wakened so abruptly from her deep sleep.

  “Easy, woman…we’re going tae rest here for a while.”

  She stiffened and glanced wide-eyed around her, Gabriel’s men fanning out around them and dismounting heavily from their horses.

  He didn’t have to utter a word of command, ev
eryone so attuned to what Gabriel expected that they knew exactly what to do.

  Tartan blankets were shaken out and provisions retrieved from burlap bags tied to saddles, and then some of the men gathered the horses to lead them through the trees to the creek. Other men took up defensive positions around the clearing, while some were already lying down with exhausted groans upon the mossy ground.

  “Och, Gabriel, my arse is sore,” bemoaned Conall, while Alun shook his head and half-snorted, half-laughed.

  “You’d think by now your arse would be thick as leather from all the riding we’ve done over the years. Move over, Campbell. Will you take up enough space for two men?”

  Alun didn’t wait for Conall to oblige, but settled his blanket over him like a cloud, which made Conall swear under his breath and sweep the offending garment aside. Yet his grin told Gabriel that the two warriors were only sparring with each other as they always did, some of the other men around them chuckling.

  The shared humor lightened Gabriel’s mood somewhat, though Magdalene starting to wriggle in his arms made him scowl.

  He should have woken her sooner and not have her sleep the journey away, for now she was rested while he felt his own exhaustion settling over him.

  Heavily, he dismounted and kept a firm hand on the reins, not wanting her to think she might snatch them from him again and ride off like a wild hoyden.

  He had been stunned by her prowess with his horse, a massive creature that no one else had ever ridden but him. The same instant he’d whistled, it had looked like she might tumble from the saddle and break her neck when the stallion turned around so sharply—his astonishment doubling at how expertly she regained control and kept her seat.

  Yet it had been the lucidity in her gaze that had struck him as his horse had carried Magdalene right back to him—not at all a childlike expression on her face, but one of outright indignation.

  Mayhap he had imagined it, Gabriel told himself as he clasped her around the waist and lifted her from the horse, Magdalene gasping aloud. She braced her hands upon his shoulders as if fearing she might fall, which wasn’t at all like the woman he’d seen earlier handling his mighty steed as if born to it.