The Great Scottish Devil

by Starla Kaye

  His expression hardened again. “Turn away, lass. Ye willna want to see the lashes falling.”

  He was right about that. She put the leather sheath between her teeth and lowered her head between her outstretched arms. Holding her breath, she waited for the first fall of the thick belt. It was always the worst lick.

  The wait was far too short. He sent the belt down hard and a line of white hot pain seared across both buttocks as if he’d branded her. She yelped, though it came out muffled because of the sheath in her mouth.

  He gave her five more lashes. She knew he’d held back his strength, but still each stripe stung mightily. With each one she danced up on her toes. With each one she grimaced and bit down on the sheath of leather.

  “Six more. I want ye to ken the consequences of going against me verra well.”

  Annabel considered demanding that he stop, but she heard the whoosh of the next lash coming. She squeezed her eyes closed and prepared for it. He striped her steadily, one after the other with no rest in between. The pain didn’t really hit her until the last one landed. And then she cried out, grateful for the sheath to quiet the screams.

  She sagged against the wall as he moved away. She’d had worse punishments, but this was bad enough.

  “’Tis done. Ye can raise yer braies now.” He sounded distressed, as if hurting her had hurt him her as well. He reached around and pulled the sheath from her quivering lips. “Ye did well, lass.”

  It took her another minute to calm her sobs, to gather her strength to bend down for her clothing. She would have liked for him to leave her so she could suffer this disgrace in private. But he was there as she hissed with the ache of moving, as she sucked in a pained breath when the fabric slid over her tender bottom. And he was there when she turned, wiping away her tears.

  “Ye will go to yer chamber now, Anna. Ye will stay there and think about why ye got a lashing.”

  It would be difficult to walk into the keep and harder to climb all those stairs to the second floor. She would be more than ready to remove her braies and stretch out on her stomach on the bed. Still, she’d made plans with Angus.

  As if he knew her thoughts, Brodie said, “I will tell Gordon ye’re not feeling well. Ye can walk with him on the morrow…or not.”

  Chapter Four

  The night had seemed endlessly long by the time Brodie finally gave up and climbed from his bed as the first rays of sun hit his window. He doubted if he’d slept more than an hour in total. Lack of sleep and the throbbing headache he’d suffered most of the night hadn’t helped his mood. He rubbed his forehead although that never really did anything. Mayhap he needed to ask Cook for something from her medicinals. He was getting desperate for some kind of relief. With each new day his headaches got worse. More so when he was around Annabel. He needed to stay away from her. Mayhap he should relent and let her leave Urquhart as she wanted to do.

  Nay! He could not let her leave here without an escort he trusted or a husband. A tightness pinched his chest. He didn’t like the idea of his Anna joined in any manner with another man. For all of her flirtations with him, her telling him how she lusted for him, he knew she was an innocent. Some man other than him would wake each morn to the sight of her delicate face smiling at him. Pull her small form against him, run his arms all over her soft-skinned body. Have the right to put his mouth to her plump breasts and suckle them. Bring her alive as he feasted between her legs before putting his cock to her woman’s place and driving inside her warmth.

  Beyond frustrated, he grabbed the candle from the bedside table and threw it across the room. The metal candle bowl quickly followed, clattering to the stone floor. Life was so damn unfair sometimes! He’d lost his brother and his father to a battle that had been lost even before it had begun. He’d been seriously injured there as well, nearly losing his life, too, and losing his memories. Including memories of his home, his people, and Maggie, the sister who so desperately wanted to help him but couldn’t. Now he’d met Annabel Henderson and wanted her so bad his teeth ached, even when she dared to challenge him at every turn. But he couldn’t have her. He was bound by honor to marry a woman he’d never met, out of duty to the English king.

  He kicked at the bedside table, turning it on its side, and stubbing his toe in the process. He swore viciously and hopped around in pain. As he surveyed the minor damage he’d done in his chamber, he knew it was time to get dressed and leave the room before he made a shambles of what was left.

  As he started down the long hallway toward the stairs a few minutes later, thoughts of Lady Agatha Stonewall weighed heavily upon him. She would probably arrive this day, the morrow at the latest. She didn’t deserve to face an angry, bitter man. None of his problems were hers. He needed to focus on making things better here. He needed to stop growling at everyone who crossed his path. It was time to forget the past he could not remember and make new bonds with his people, find peace in the man he was now. It was time to begin making plans for a wedding ceremony, though he intended to put off the occasion for a month or mayhap a fortnight. He would give Lady Stonewall time to get to know the man she would marry, and give her time to decide if she would rather decline the betrothal.

  Brodie came to the closed door of Annabel’s bedchamber and stopped. How was she this morn? He suspected her pert little bottom would be tender. He wasn’t proud that she’d angered him enough that he’d given her a sound leathering with his belt. Especially after she’d been dealing with the puzzling note she’d found. Braden…Ala…vow to kill Anna. Again, his head throbbed at the thought of this “Braden.” There was something deep within his memories about the name.

  He shoved that thought aside. What he couldn’t push aside was the threat to Anna. His hands curled into fists. He would not allow any harm to come to her! He would protect her to his dying breath. As, he knew, would all of the men within the walls of Urquhart.

  Muffled sounds of movement came to him through the closed door. She was up now and getting around. Her short hair would be tousled from sleep. She would mayhap take a few seconds to reach back and rub her tender bottom, probably purse her lips in annoyance at the thought of what he’d done. She would…

  The door opened and she came barreling out in her usual no-nonsense determination to go somewhere, do something. Before he could even think about moving out of her way, she slammed into him. She gasped and he felt her breasts press against him before she stumbled backward in surprise.

  “I am sorry, Lord Devil.” She struggled to compose herself, brushing nervously at the sides of her long gown.

  He stared at the pink tingeing her cheeks, concentrating on not lowering his gaze to her breasts. “A gown?” His own cheeks heated as he realized what a foolish thing he’d said. But she’d only worn a gown around him one other time.

  Annabel blinked at him, still blushing. “I wanted to look presentable when your…when your betrothed arrives.”

  “She might not arrive until the morrow.” His palms were sweating in his battle not to reach for her and pull her back into his arms. He scowled, as if it were her fault for how he felt.

  “Ah, now that is the face I am familiar with. The one holding a frown fierce enough to scare away any who dares to cross your path.” Then she smiled in amusement. “I pity your betrothed. She will have much to deal with being married to the likes of you.”

  With that she scurried by him, her slender hips swaying and darkening his mood even more.

  “The man who gets ye as his wife will also have much to deal with,” Brodie snapped and followed after her down the stairs. “Ye are far too sassy. Stubborn as well.”

  She pretended to ignore him and walked casually to take a seat at one of the trestle tables with a number of his soldiers. Angus Gordon being one of them. They all looked surprised, and far too pleased at her presence. Far too many were staring at her bosom.

  Brodie stormed right behind her, bent down to grab her around her waist, and hauled her to her feet. “Ye eat on the dais
with me.”

  Gordon stood as if prepared to test him, which he wished the man would do. It would give him an excuse to dismiss him and send him away from Urquhart.

  Annabel squirmed out of Brodie’s hold and huffed in clear irritation. Then she faced Gordon and said gently, “’Tis all right. It matters naught where I break my fast. I will talk with you later.”

  “I am glad to ken ye are feeling better this day. Mayhap we can have our walk tonight.” He sent Brodie a look of challenge.

  Brodie wanted to protest but instead took Annabel’s hand and drug her with him to the laird’s table. Of course she called back sweetly, “’Twill be my pleasure, Sir Gordon.”

  As she settled into her chair with a slight wince, he leaned down to taunt her. “Evidently yer bottom is better this morn, but no’ completely.”

  She reached for a chunk of bread from the platter in front of her. Then, smiling for those people nearby watching them, she hissed quietly. “Aye, ‘tis a bit tender yet, which I am sure pleases you.”

  Oddly, it didn’t please him. He sat beside her and sighed in disgust. “Now ‘tis I who must apologize. No’ fer the leathering, but fer teasing ye aboot it. We will speak nay more of it.”

  She faced him, her eyes dancing with mischief as she nibbled on the bread. He’d just reached for his mug of mead when she said sassily in a near whisper, “My bottom was warm all night, Lord Devil. My thoughts of you unkind at first.” She smiled. “After a while, though, my thoughts of you turned as warm as my body.”

  Brodie sucked in a breath at her boldness. Wanting to put a stop to it, he warned in a low tone, “Unless ye want another warming, a harder one, watch yer words.”

  The minx merely smiled even more but shook her head. “I would rather not. I will try to behave, to mind my words better.”

  They ate their meal in silence, but he was far too aware of her sitting beside him. The heat of her called to him, the scent of her tortured him. It was time he began a serious search for a husband for Annabel.

  * * *

  As she darted out of the paddock after checking on her horses, Annabel’s heart raced. She’d felt like someone was watching her all morning, wherever she went. Being alone in the near darkness of the stable could have been foolish. Now, as she hurried toward the gardens and the safety of being with two of the maids, she thought about the mysterious note she’d found yesterday. Ala…vow to kill Anna. The words had haunted her last night, had made her dreams frightening.

  “Are ye all right, lass?” Angus Gordon asked, popping up behind her.

  Annabel gasped and put a hand to her heart. “Where did you come from?” Why hadn’t she heard him? Had she been too lost in her thoughts?

  The tall, lean redhead gave her a slow smile, as if amused by making her nervous. His gaze moved over her in a way that had her shivering.

  When he answered, he ignored her question. “Ye look a bit pale, Anna. Mayhap ye’re not as well this day as ye’d thought. Mayhap ye should rest a bit longer. Let me escort ye into the keep.” He moved closer and started to reach for her arm.

  She inched backward another foot and avoided his touch. And she didn’t like the way he’d called her “Anna.” Only her father and Brodie called her that. “Annabel,” she corrected and then gave him a weak smile when he frowned.

  She drew in a steadying breath and said, “I thank you for your concern, but I am much better this day.” The paleness he’d commented on would have been a response to his surprising her. He didn’t need to know the specifics of why she hadn’t felt well enough last night to go walking with him. Nay, he didn’t need to know that it had been all Brodie’s fault. That he’d given her a sound leathering and ordered her to her room.

  “Ye look verra nice in yer dress this morn.” His gaze moved over her again and she saw his nostrils flare. “I look forward to walking with ye this night.”

  “Why are ye no’ with the other men in the lower bailey?” Sir Douglas asked in a bark. He strode from the side of the keep and his expression mirrored his anger.

  Although Brodie’s first knight had spoken gruffly to the other man, his eyes softened when he looked at her. For a second she wondered if he was who had been watching her this morn. Had Brodie assigned him the task of following her around, making sure she stayed out of trouble, and making sure she didn’t try to sneak away in her wagon? But that was a ridiculous idea. Douglas was far too important to be put to such a job. And she was probably being foolish anyway. Surely there was no one watching her, following her. It was just that note.

  The two men seemed to be staring at each other in challenge, the tension straining. It puzzled her why Angus hadn’t immediately walked away when all but ordered to do so. She’d noted other times that he appeared to have too little concern for rubbing against his laird.

  She decided to end this competition—whatever it was—between the two grim-faced men. She would not have them fighting because of her. “Sir Gordon happened to be walking by and wanted to be sure I was well this morn. He knew I had been sent to...gone to my chamber early yesterday. Knew I had been feeling poorly.”

  Sir Douglas raised an eyebrow at her misspeak of “sent to” instead of “gone to.” But he merely backed down a bit with Angus. “I will accept the excuse. This time. Now, join the others, Gordon.”

  It took another tense second before Angus gave a curt nod and walked away. Her shoulders slumped in relief as he disappeared around the keep. Mayhap walking with him this night would be a mistake. Yet they wouldn’t be alone. There were always people milling about the baileys at night.

  “I dunna like the mon,” Douglas grumbled. “Neither does Brodie.”

  “Angus is still new here. I think mayhap he just takes a little more getting to know than some people.” Although she wasn’t sure whether or not she liked him, she felt the need to defend him. In truth, he’d never been unkind to her. Yes, she would give him the benefit of the doubt. She would walk with him this night and get to know him better.

  Douglas looked at her, his expression unhappy. “A rider came not long ago. Lady Stonewall and her party should be here sometime after the nooning hour.”

  Annabel’s stomach instantly tightened with dread. But she forced a smile. “’Tis a good thing, Sir Douglas. Lord Devil… I mean Lord Urquhart…is ready to move forward with his life. He is accepting he may never have his memories back, though I hope he is wrong about that. Anyway, he knows he can no longer dwell on that problem. He knows he must do right by his people, give them a strong leader once again, give them a lady of the castle, and…”

  She’d been babbling in her determination to justify what was coming. Yet as she’d started to say “and provide an heir for Urquhart,” she suddenly stopped. Her lower lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. With all of that, he would be lost to her forever. Nay! He is already lost to you!

  Douglas looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he pulled her into his awkward embrace. He patted her back as the weak woman in her quietly sobbed her heartache against his chest. His voice was gruff again, but gentle. “Our Brodie is a difficult mon at the best of times. But above all else, he is fearsomely noble and honorable. He canna go against his word, even if he doesna remember giving it.”

  She sniffed back her tears and drew in breaths to stop this foolish crying. Inching out of his embrace, she raised her chin. “You are all lucky to have him. I know this.” She swallowed down a lump in her throat. “I wish it could be different, that we had met under different circumstances. But things are what they are.”

  Douglas’s eyes revealed the depths of his frustration with the situation. “He must marry this Lady Stonewall. He has nay choice.”

  “I wouldna make him a good wife, anyway. He finds me too willful, too stubborn.” She dashed away her tears and glanced toward the paddock. “It is time I leave here.”

  Brodie strode from around the keep, surprising her as both Angus and then Douglas had done. Yet again she put a hand to her heart. He scowled darkl
y at her. “Ye are no’ leaving here until I give ye permission! I will have yer wagon dismantled if I must.”

  Furious, she walked right in front of him, planted her hands on her hips. “You will do no such thing!”

  His mighty shoulders squared. “Do no’ keep threatening to leave then.” He lowered his gaze to her hands on her hips. “Ye ken what happens when ye go against me.”

  Douglas dared to move closer, to stand at her side. “She only means to—”

  Brodie rounded on him, his eyes flashing with warning. “She means to drive me crazy. Someone wishes to kill her. I canna let her leave here unguarded…or at least without a husband by her side. I canna!”

  “Kill her?” Douglas’s scowl matched Brodie’s when he looked at her. “What is this aboot? Who?”

  The fight went out of her at the reminder that someone wanted her dead. Her knees threatened to give out. She felt weak all over, and so desperately alone. Except for the two fierce-looking men in front of her. But, in truth, she should not, could not, depend on them to protect her. Mayhap while she was here at Urquhart, but she could not stay here forever.

  “’Tis not your problem. Either of you.” She started to walk toward the keep. She wanted to lie down, have some time to think everything through.

  “Ye’re wrong, lass,” Brodie gritted out. “I’m yer guardian until ye have a husband. My duty is to look after ye, keep ye safe. And I will.”

  She kept on walking, struggled to keep from crying. His duty. That was all she was and ever could be to him.

  * * *

  Several hours later Brodie stood rigidly in front of the keep. His stomach knotted as he waited for the two dozen, chain-mailed soldiers to cross over the drawbridge and enter the inner bailey. In the midst of the riders he finally caught sight of the woman he was to marry and spend the rest of his days with. A perfect lady. She rode perched on a side-saddle with one leg wrapped around the saddle horn. Her gown was blue and lines of beading ran down from the low décolleté. Her hair was hidden beneath a Wimple that wrapped around her throat and was tucked into the neckline of her gown. He had no idea what color her hair was, but he didn’t really care. In truth he cared little about her, wanted nothing to do with her. A frustrated thought that had him clenching his hands into fists at his sides.