My Highland Warrior (Warriors of the Highlands Book 1)

by Miriam Minger

  And nothing could have amazed him more than Magdalene kissing Rhona so sweetly on the forehead while Gabriel watched mesmerized from the doorway.

  A witness to a scene he would never have expected from a woman who had seemed so much a child to him from her wild, erratic behavior, instead comforting another child as would a loving mother—och, why was he tormenting himself with such imaginings?

  There was no hope of happiness here! Why wouldn’t Magdalene, with the temperament of a child, not bond with a four-year-old so much like herself? And let him never forget that as his wife, her life was in danger from a deadly curse that had taken the lives of his grandmother, mother, and sister-in-law!

  “Go, Finlay. I’ll join you shortly.”

  Gabriel knew he had bit off the command, Finlay looking affronted, but then the giant of a man shrugged his broad shoulders and left the storage room without another word.

  That left Gabriel to stare at the closed door across the hall from him, no more than six feet away, and wonder what he would find when he stepped inside to check on Magdalene.

  It had been just before dawn when Grania had returned to fetch Rhona, for Gabriel had spent the rest of the night sitting in the doorway with his back against the jamb.

  Listening to the gentle sound of Magdalene and Rhona sleeping.

  Watching a peaceful scene that had once again made him wish for things that would never be.

  There would be no normal life with him married to a lunatic bride. There would be no safety for her in this place, either mad or sane. If not for Seoras scoffing at the mention of the curse and commanding that Magdalene must live with Gabriel under his roof, he would have packed her up this very morning to return her to the convent.

  Instead he had moved to the great canopied bed as quietly as he could and eased Rhona from Magdalene’s embrace. Then he had deposited the sleeping child into Grania’s arms—the old nurse still possessing amazing strength and agility for her three score and five years of age.

  As Grania had hustled away, Gabriel had indulged himself for just a moment by staring at Magdalene’s incomparable beauty—her golden hair spread like glossy silk upon the pillow, her fair features in sweet repose, and her lovely hands resting so peacefully on the covers.

  Only a flicker of lush eyelashes and the sudden tension in one slim index finger made him wonder if she might be awake and only feigning sleep, but he didn’t allow himself to linger.

  He had closed the door quietly behind him and gone to sink heavily upon the cot, sleep at last overcoming him, though the soft red of her lips had been his last conscious thought…

  “Fool,” Gabriel berated himself under his breath. He crossed the hall in two strides and reached for the latch even as the door suddenly opened—but only wide enough for a flush-faced Donella to squeeze through. She stopped short and gasped in surprise to see him standing there.

  “L-Laird?”

  “Your mistress. Is she awake?”

  “Oh, aye, Laird, for an hour or so at least. Time enough tae get her dressed, though it was no easy task for all her struggling, and she refused tae eat her breakfast. She flung the porridge at the wall and the mug of sheep’s milk went right after—och, such a mess!”

  Gabriel found he couldn’t suppress a wry smile—so much for peaceful repose!—though he sobered at the sound of something crashing to the floor. “Is my wife alone in there?”

  “No, no, Euna is with her still while I go find someone tae help us—unless mayhap you might assist with tying a rope around her waist?”

  “A rope?”

  “Aye, so we have some control over her, the wild thing! Euna thought she might enjoy a walk around the bailey and a bit of sunshine, but I’m thinking we should lock her in the room and leave her for all the trouble she’ll cost us—”

  “Stand aside.”

  Donella did so, hopping out of his way and looking more than relieved that Gabriel appeared to be taking matters into his own hands.

  He wasn’t so sure about his ability to calm the situation though, as another crash sounded, followed by Euna’s shrill shriek of alarm. With a heavy sigh, Gabriel pushed open the door to a scene of pure bedlam.

  Magdalene raced from one side of the room to the other with Euna in hot pursuit, the poor woman doing her best to dodge the missiles thrown her way.

  A vase from the look of the shattered pieces on the floor. An expensive one that Malcolm had imported from France along with the monstrosity of a bed covered in wispy white feathers from ripped pillows.

  A three-legged table with a fine inlay of colored tiles, toppled over, Euna almost tripping over it as Magdalene glanced frantically around her for something else to throw in her pursuer’s path.

  Yet she stopped cold when she spied Gabriel standing inside the door, her skirt of emerald silk still swishing around her legs, her feet planted wide.

  Small, trim feet still bandaged from the night before, making Gabriel wonder as a wince of pain crossed her face that her cuts might have begun to bleed from all the ruckus.

  A face so flushed pink and stunningly beautiful to behold that he felt his breath catch deep in his chest, that same feeling stirring inside him.

  A wonder. A sense of awe that such an incomparably lovely woman was his wedded wife, mad or no.

  She was his and he was hers, an uncertain future ahead of them that would be made lighter or heavier by any action that he took from that moment onward.

  Aye, he could lock her up in this room to punish her for such a tempestuous display…or he could try to earn some measure of trust from this child-woman who stared at him now with her arresting green eyes as if gauging whether to scream or try to flee.

  She’s the sweetest child most times…

  Aye, those had been Sister Agnes’s words, and if Gabriel could figure out how best to reach her, to soothe her, to speak to her, mayhap she would act the sweetest child for him, too—at least most times.

  “Maggie…it was a kind thing you did for my niece Rhona tae comfort her during the storm. I came tae thank you—but first you must tell me. Are your feet feeling better? I’d be happy tae tend tae them for you again. I’ll send Donella straightway tae fetch fresh poultice and bandages from Clovis, my healer. Would that please you?”

  His voice as low and calming as he could make it, Gabriel waited, almost holding his breath, while Magdalene blinked at him as if taken by surprise. Her gaze flicked from him to Euna, to Donella and then back at his face again.

  “M-my feet?”

  “Aye, and I hope those bruises are better, too. I must beg your forgiveness, sweet wife. I shouldna have been so rough with you and it was wrong of me, very wrong. Come over here and sit in this chair, will you? That will allow me tae unwrap those bandages and take a look. Do the cuts still sting?”

  Gabriel could almost not believe it as Magdalene gave a small nod, his heart going out to her that she’d suffered any injury at all when he should have treated her so gently from the very first.

  From now on he would think about Rhona and Keira when it came to how he reacted to anything Magdalene might say or do, for he doted upon his beloved nieces. He held out his hand to her, though he wasn’t surprised when she refused to take it and averted her eyes. Mayhap one day and after much patience…

  “I’ll walk over there first and wait for you.”

  So he did, gesturing for Donella and Una to stand to one side and well out of Magdalene’s way so she wouldn’t hesitate to oblige him because of them standing too close.

  Still she didn’t move an inch, though he saw her heave a quiet sigh and shake her head as if talking to herself.

  No matter. Gabriel felt like he had all the time in the world with no training of his men to occupy him for the next week, and he stood there patiently, waiting, just as he’d told her he would do.

  A minute passed and then another, until finally she took a few hesitant steps toward him. He decided not to make any move at all and simply began to talk to her in the
same soothing way about mayhap something she could relate to…little Rhona.

  “I heard my niece cry out last night and I know she called you Mama. I’ll speak tae Rhona and Keira today if you’d like, and explain tae them that you’re not their mother, but you can be a friend tae them, aye? You see, they lost their mother when Rhona was only two years old and Keira four. Forgive me for not telling you more about my family. Their father, Malcolm, my older brother, is gone, too, since last autumn. The girls have only me tae protect them…and you, too, just like you did for Rhona when she came running tae find you.”

  To his amazement, Magdalene had come right up to him while he was speaking and settled herself in the chair, looking up at him as if expecting him to go on. He knelt on one knee in front of her and began to unwrap one of her feet, all the while going on about his nieces.

  “Rhona’s terribly afraid of storms, just like you saw her. But Keira? Well, she’s not afraid of much and slept right through. Can you imagine that, Maggie?”

  He didn’t get an answer, and she still held herself stiffly in the chair as he examined first one foot and then the other, but he told himself again that only patience would give him any hope of a peaceful household.

  “Your feet look much better, I’m pleased tae say. Clovis’s poultices always work wonders. He made one for my right shoulder last night—”

  “Your shoulder?”

  She looked at him so keenly all of a sudden that Gabriel nodded, surprised at himself, really, for revealing that to her. For her to relate to his young nieces might be one thing, but anything to do with him? Aye, well, if her lunacy wavered in and out like the shimmering ripples on a lough, so be it.

  “One of my captains, Cameron, pierced me with his sword. An accident, and my own folly. I should have twisted out of the way, but it’s getting better just like your feet. I’ll not be training with my men for a week at least…but I hope that will give us some time tae grow a wee bit more comfortable with each other—Maggie?”

  She had jumped up from the chair so abruptly and pushed against that very shoulder to skirt around him that Gabriel couldn’t help but grimace, which made Euna and Donella gasp in shock. At once they looked like they might rush after Magdalene, who had run to take refuge near a window.

  “No, leave her be.”

  His command louder and more brusque than he would have wanted, given he wanted to calm her, Gabriel had risen to his feet but he didn’t move any closer to her.

  Magdalene appeared almost stricken, her gaze falling to his right shoulder, and he could swear tears glistened in her eyes.

  Was it possible she felt remorse for causing him pain? He reached up to rub his shoulder and then smiled wryly.

  God help him, he smelled ripe, just as Finlay had pointed out to him, which made Gabriel think instead that mayhap her eyes were merely smarting from the stink of sweat and long hours in the saddle. He should have bathed after they returned to the castle—och, but the night’s events had gotten away with him.

  “Maggie, would you mind if I leave for a short while? Donella and Euna will clean up the mess, dinna trouble yourself about it. And there’ll be no rope binding you, I promise. When I come back—within an hour, no more, I’ll take you on a tour of the castle. Would you like that?”

  A slim hand reaching up to wipe at her eyes, she gave a small nod, Gabriel wishing she had spoken to him so he could again hear the sweetness of her voice. He had heard her speak so little since they had left the convent—och, man, patience!

  Just having her acquiesce to his invitation was a small victory, and he felt an unmistakable sense of anticipation at the thought of spending more time with her.

  He cast her a reassuring smile, but she had already turned to stare outside through one of the expensive glass windows Malcolm had paid dearly for…which left Gabriel musing that mayhap he’d been touched with a bit of madness himself.

  Magdalene madness…the insanity of wishing to see her smile and hear her speak and to glimpse even a hint of lucidity in her incredible green eyes making him curse himself again for a fool as he strode from the room.

  Chapter 9

  She couldn’t believe it.

  No, she couldn’t believe it! Pacing from window to window as Euna and Donella busied themselves with tidying up the room, Magdalene pinched herself again just to reassure herself that she hadn’t been dreaming.

  What had become of that forbidding and resolute Gabriel MacLachlan who had brought her to this accursed place against her will? Who was this stranger in his place who had spoken to her in such low, calming tones that she’d felt as lulled as a babe? Aye, she had acted like one, too, walking over to sit in that chair as obediently as a lamb, though she’d considered at first bolting out the door and down the stairs.

  That would have led Gabriel, poor Donella with that hairy mole on her chin, and Euna with her pale eyes on a merry chase, but instead she’d taken a seat as he’d spoken so soothingly of Rhona and Keira—not his daughters at all, but his nieces!

  So he wasn’t a widower, those poor girls tragically become orphans after the death of both of their parents, which meant Gabriel had inherited MacLachlan Castle from his brother, Malcolm. In the span of a few moments, she had learned so much about him after he had scarcely uttered anything to her during the journey other than brusque commands!

  What was he up to? What plot had he connived in that handsome head of his? No matter, she didn’t trust him any more than before he had come so unexpectedly into her room—och, not her room! His sumptuous room that he’d surrendered to her, but for how long before he decided it was time to resume his occupancy and claim his marital rights?

  “So that was it…” Magdalene murmured, suddenly certain that he meant to lure her into a false sense of security until he pounced upon her like a hungry cat toying with a mouse. Aye, he was even worse a brute than she’d ever imagined!

  Here she had actually felt terrible that she had struck his injured shoulder when she rushed past him—an accident, truly—but she hadn’t been able to sit there a moment longer.

  Not with him kneeling so close to her, her feet still tingling from the gentle pressure of his fingers, her senses overwhelmed by the masculine smell of him.

  Not offensive in the least, but warm and strangely compelling, making her feel all shivery inside until she’d told herself she must regain her composure. Then he’d said something about having more time over the next week or so to grow comfortable with each other—by God, was the man as mad as she pretended to be?

  She didn’t want to become comfortable with Gabriel! She didn’t want to be held against her will in Argyll! She wanted to return to the convent near Dumbarton as soon as she could convince him that taking her for his bride was the biggest folly of his life!

  Magdalene paced furiously back to the other window and ignored the low tittering of Euna and Donella, who both seemed to be keeping an eye upon her as they righted the room.

  She wished she’d done even more damage, especially now that everything had become clear to her. To think the low huskiness of Gabriel’s voice had lulled her—och, she was ashamed of herself!

  She had already planned to redouble her efforts to thwart him after he’d seen her comforting Rhona, hence the wispy feathers strewn about the bed that her two stout jailers were attempting to gather. She couldn’t have Gabriel thinking that she possessed more clarity than should a young woman plagued by lunacy. Then she would never escape him or this wretched marriage that her brother had foisted upon her—

  “I’ll never forgive you, Seoras,” Magdalene muttered, wishing no small amount of ill will upon him even as she found herself thinking about the look on Gabriel’s face when he’d entered the room.

  He had stared at her almost as if seeing her for the first time, appearing almost dumbstruck, while she could not deny that her breath had caught, her heart leaping into her throat—

  “Your cloak, Lady MacLachlan,” Euna’s voice broke into her racing thoughts.
“Your husband returns.”

  Aye, Magdalene heard his approaching footfalls and once again, her heart jumped, though in the next instant she berated herself for it. She tried to evade Euna wrapping the cloak around her shoulders, but Donella was right there to hold her by the arm and make her stand still.

  “The sky’s as blue and clear as the finest spring day, but there’s a cool breeze left over from the storm. Dinna fight us, milady. It’s only your welfare that concerns us, aye, Euna?”

  “Aye, and more’s the pity she has the MacLachlan family curse hanging over her head, the poor wretch. Mayhap that she’s lost her wits might spare her life, who’s tae say? Fate can be cruel or kind, so we’ll pray for the latter.”

  Spare her life? Stunned, Magdalene almost blurted out a demand that the women tell her what curse they spoke of, but Gabriel was already at the door.

  And not at all the Gabriel who had been there before in sweat-stained clothing and unkempt hair, but freshly bathed and dressed in a gold-trimmed tunic and fine leather boots that befitted the laird of the castle—undeniably taking Magdalene’s breath away.

  If her heart had leapt before, now she felt it racing as he drew closer, the clean scent of him as compelling as the other but in a more startling way.

  Truly, she had never beheld a finer-looking man than Gabriel MacLachlan, from the rugged planes of his freshly shaved face to his dark wet hair combed back and brushing his massive shoulders. She couldn’t tear her eyes from him—and it seemed his gaze was riveted upon her face as well.

  And why wouldn’t it be? She had never felt herself blushing so furiously, which made him smile in a manner so boyish and pleased that she was almost certain that she’d imagined every brutish thing about him.

  Almost.

  The moment he reached out his hand to her, the spell was broken. Magdalene shrank back, telling herself fiercely that now, even more than ever before, she must act the lunatic bride. A hungry cat toying with a mouse, remember?

  She knew her tactic had worked when he sobered as if she’d doused him with cold water, but strangely, she felt little satisfaction. Lord help her, what was coming over her? This man wasn’t a friend, but a foe!