Highland Hellion

by Mary Wine

  Diocail only sent him a steady stare. Colum tried to rise, but the wound was weakening him too much.

  “I am still laird.”

  “Aye,” Diocail agreed. “And I’ve served ye dutifully.”

  “No’ so well as ye think,” Colum snarled. “I am still dying.”

  “Ye’ve lived a long life.”

  Two of Colum’s captains eyed Diocail, waiting to see what Colum would make of his words. Their laird looked out from his bed, hate twisting his features. He even sent that same look toward the priest who had come to offer him last rites. Instead, he looked at his secretary and gestured him toward the bedside.

  “Diocail is me chosen successor.”

  The secretary nodded and pulled a sheet of paper from his small traveling desk. Colum pointed at Diocail. “And ye’ll take the Hay lass as yer wife. Bring me the offer.”

  His secretary was off in a moment, going through the opening into the outer chamber and beyond it to where Colum kept his business papers.

  “Ye’ll do as I say,” Colum informed Diocail. “I can see ye mean to argue with me, and I will no’ have it.”

  “Better to wed the MacPherson girl and put an end to the bad blood between our clans.”

  “I…will…no’…have…it!” Colum growled, straining to rise from his bed, but his blood was draining from his body. Tyree’s blade had sunk deep into the man’s belly, and it was a better death to go with his blood than to linger as infection from the wound took him slowly with fever and rot.

  So they had not bound the wounds, but laid him in his bed.

  “My laird.” The priest ventured closer, recognizing the look of approaching death. “’Tis time to repent, embrace peace, and be welcomed into heaven’s grace.”

  Colum had no intention of embracing submission to the Church’s doctrine. His eyes glittered with hatred as he pressed his signet ring into the wax his secretary had poured onto a document.

  “The Hay girl…” Colum’s voice was becoming weaker. “Bring me the offer…now…”

  More of the Gordon captains filed into the room. Colum tried to lift his hand, but in the end, he couldn’t press his ring into the wax. He slumped back against the bedding as the priest tried to gain a confession from him.

  He died with hatred in his eyes.

  “Do any of ye mean to challenge me?” Diocail asked the captains. They were men who had earned the respect of the Gordons, and they contemplated him for long moments before one of them shook his head and the others followed.

  Diocail obviously hadn’t thought it would be so simple. The most senior of the captains slowly grinned. “Ye’re welcome to the burden. I have enough authority to content me, and ye will have to ride down and give yer vow to Morton. I want none of that, yet whoever takes up the mantle of laird will have to see it done.”

  “I will do it,” Diocail declared.

  The senior captain nodded before lowering himself to one knee and pulling his dagger. He pressed a kiss of allegiance against the blade before rising.

  The other captains slowly made their way over to kneel before Diocail. Colum looked on in death, the priest finally closing his eyes once the last man had knelt.

  His mother would have enjoyed the moment.

  Diocail felt her spirit rejoicing to see her son, the unwanted whelp, being given Colum’s blessing. She’d taken him into the isles to make sure he survived, and the harsh life had aged her. But he was strong and enough of a man to reclaim what she had always told him was his birthright.

  He turned and left the chamber, going to face the first true challenge of his lairdship. It wasn’t coming in the form of feuding clans that he needed to run his land.

  No, it was in the form of the Earl of Morton, and Diocail would have been a fool to dismiss how very dangerous the coming meeting was.

  * * *

  Katherine’s eyes popped opened the next morning while it was still gray.

  “I thought they’d at least wait until dawn,” Rolfe groused as he rolled out of the bed and found his shirt. “Best rise, lass.”

  There was a flutter as her chemise came sailing across the bed toward her.

  She grabbed it and tugged at the sleeves to pull them right side out, her fingers fumbling as she heard the footfalls coming closer.

  “Lord, it sounds as if half the Lindsey clan is coming,” she muttered as she succeeded in getting into her shift.

  Not a moment too soon, either. The door burst in without a knock as Katherine held tight to the covers. The chemise was puddled around her waist, and her bare bottom was still beneath the bedding.

  “Ye are a dead man.”

  Marcus MacPherson stood in the doorway, wearing enough dirt to tell her he’d been riding hard for a long time. His face was coated with it, so when he flashed his teeth at Rolfe, they looked even brighter due to how much grime was on his face.

  “Marcus…” Rolfe began, but that was all he got out before Marcus was lunging at him.

  The chamber was full of people now. Someone drew her out of the bed, pulling her into the small antechamber to be dressed. Katherine fought against the women trying to shield her modesty as she heard the crashing and cursing coming from the bedchamber.

  But the Lindsey women were too many, keeping her in place. She finally decided to help get her clothing on, because it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere until she was dressed.

  “Pull those two apart.” Duncan arrived, and his men acted upon his command.

  There was cursing and growling, but there were just too many Lindsey retainers, and Marcus ended up pushed against one wall, while Rolfe and Adwin were kept against another.

  “I do love weddings,” Duncan declared as he looked toward the bed. The soiled sheet was plain in the dawn light. “Looks like it was enjoyed by everyone.”

  Marcus let out a snarl and surged toward Rolfe again. “Ye should have kept yer hands off her!”

  “Marcus!” Katherine slipped beneath the arms of the men holding him back. He drew himself up as she straightened up in front of him. The rage on his face cracked to reveal relief. “Christ, lass, it is good to see ye well.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, using so much strength that he nearly cracked her ribs.

  “And ye do nae have to stay married to him,” Marcus spat out once he’d finished embracing her. “Leave that sheet and get out.”

  The Lindsey women had turned their attention to the bed, pulling the stained sheet off. They looked at Marcus, clearly resistant to his order.

  “Katherine is me wife,” Rolfe declared. There was a glint in his eyes that made it clear he would back his words with his body if necessary.

  “We’ll be seeing about that,” Marcus promised in return. “Get out, the lot of ye. I will be hearing what Kat has to say when she is no’ surrounded by those who have something to gain by forcing her hand.”

  The Lindseys bristled at the insult and looked toward their laird. Marcus glared at Duncan.

  “Ye’d say the same if ye were standing in me boots right now.”

  No one moved until Duncan gave them a wave with his hand. The chamber began to empty, but Marcus had to yank the soiled sheet out of the hands of the Head of House when she tried to carry it past him.

  “Ye’d have the lass shamed, then?” the woman declared. “If I appear below without that, there will always be rumors about her.”

  Marcus didn’t lose his temper often. That iron control was a trait Katherine had come to admire about him. Right then, it was stretched thin, but she was distracted by the look on Rolfe’s face. Her new husband was looking straight at her, waiting for her to make a choice.

  “Take the sheet,” Kat said.

  Marcus shifted his attention to her, his eyes narrowing. The Head of House didn’t wait for further discussion. She hurried out of the chamber, leaving Ka
therine feeling her cheeks burning scarlet as she realized everyone was there to discuss what she’d been doing with Rolfe.

  But what made her belly tighten to the point of nausea was just how determined Marcus was to see the marriage dissolved.

  * * *

  Colum Gordon was interred beneath the floor of the church beside his son. His wife had been buried in the graveyard behind the structure in punishment for only providing one living son to her husband. If Diocail had his way, he’d have let the man rot in unhallowed ground for all of the hate he’d kept festering inside him. The Gordons were despised by the clans on all sides of them because of it, and it would fall to Diocail to change their ways.

  That would be a difficult task, but one his mother had reared him to face. He would not shame her by failing.

  Especially on the very first day.

  The hall was unusually somber at supper. Diocail sat at the high table, contemplating his new clan. He finally stood.

  “I will be heading down to swear fealty to the Earl of Morton.”

  There was a grumble among the Gordon retainers.

  “The man is the regent for our king, and I will no’ be frightened away by the tales of him. Even if I believe a great many of them are true.”

  There was a rumble of approval.

  “I’d expect ye to toss me out on me arse if I were no’ man enough to face the earl.”

  Now there were grins. A few of the retainers lifted their mugs toward him.

  “And I’m going to say what is being said among ye.” Diocail braced his feet wide and faced them. “That I am no’ a Gordon because me mother left this land.”

  He stopped for a moment and watched his words sink in. There was a shuffle among those eating at the long tables as they eased closer, wanting to hear what else he had to say.

  “Me mother took me away so I’d live to see this day.” Diocail spoke clearly. “But only after someone tried to poison her, while I was still on her breast. Me father died from it. Colum’s ambition was stronger than his decency. Now that he is gone, I intend to speak clearly and truthfully.”

  It wasn’t considered right to speak ill of the dead, but there was more than one nod among those watching.

  Diocail came down the steps and stood on the hall floor. “So, if there are any among ye who wish to challenge me openly, now is the time. Any man who resorts to potions and daggers in the dark shadows is a coward and no’ fit to lead the Gordons. For those whispering behind me back, I call ye out now. Make yer arguments here, before all, or have done with trying to split the Gordons. I will honor the choice made by the majority and leave this castle, but so too will whoever stands against me.”

  It was as silent as a graveyard. No one moved, and most of those watching held their breath as they waited. Diocail watched the looks some of the men made, quick glances toward silent members of the clan that told him exactly who was talking behind his back.

  None of them stepped forward.

  “It is done,” Leif said from the high table. He was the senior captain, a man who had served the Gordons for over thirty years. “Aed can start with the swearing of fealty.”

  Aed was one of the men the other clansmen had looked toward. His jaw was clenched as he hesitated. He moved forward and drew his dagger. There was a long moment as everyone waited to see if he’d challenge or kneel.

  He knelt and pledged as a line formed behind him.

  Six

  “I would have thought ye’d be talking to Katherine.”

  Marcus MacPherson offered Rolfe a menacing grin. “Ye can be very sure I will be having words with me sister later.”

  “She is no’ yer sister,” Rolfe responded. “At the moment, ye are acting far more like her father.”

  “At the risk of agreeing with ye, when all I want to do is choke the life from ye, aye,” Marcus replied. “That’s a fine, healthy way for ye to think of me. Because I swear I’ll twist yer cock off if ye harmed that lass.”

  Duncan let out a snort, gaining him a glare from Marcus. “Perhaps I’ll start with ye, Duncan Lindsey, for allowing this wedding on yer land when ye knew the lass was under MacPherson protection.”

  Duncan sobered. “The lass agreed, or I would no’ have let it happen. And I do nae care for yer tone. A bit of ransom is one thing; rape under the guise of marriage is another. One I do nae hold with.”

  Marcus nodded.

  “She did agree,” Rolfe insisted. “So do nae insult me by suggesting I took her against her will.”

  “Ye’re saying she went to McTavish land of her own accord?” Marcus questioned.

  Rolfe drew in a stiff breath. “Nae.”

  Marcus’s expression tightened.

  “Colum Gordon had a mind to burn her at the stake,” Rolfe said. “Ye should nae have allowed her to run wild.”

  Marcus bristled. “I made sure she could defend herself. Can ye tell me truthfully that the fact that she is English has no’ caused trouble for ye? I’m no’ so arrogant to think that, short of locking her abovestairs, there won’t be times she’ll have to rely on herself.”

  Rolfe nodded reluctantly. “I am no’ debating the need for her to learn to defend herself. Did ye truly no’ see the harm in her riding out at night? Christ, man, me own men caught her once, thinking her a lad.”

  “So,” Marcus growled softly, “ye were on me land?”

  Rolfe grunted. “Ye enjoy a good raid as well as I do. Kat learned a lot from ye, and it’s me guess that she saw ye leaving on a raid she was no’ invited to.”

  Marcus slowly cocked his head to one side. “Aye,” he rasped out. “That much is true. I know what I’m guilty of, McTavish. That does nae mean ye should have taken her home to yer land and no’ sent me a ransom demand.” Marcus pointed at Rolfe. “Taking her to Morton is something I can nae forgive.”

  “Me father is the one who would nae allow me to send a ransom demand. It’s true enough that I failed to think that part of me plan through. Me father craves a title and sees Katherine as the means to getting it from Morton. I can nae refuse me sire any more than ye can,” Rolfe argued. “But I wed her to make certain Morton can no’ harm her.”

  “And she will be staying on Lindsey land under my protection,” Duncan added.

  Marcus looked from one to the other before he nodded. “It’s a decent plan, I’ll admit. However, neither of ye have ever faced Morton. I promise ye, the man will nae bend easily. He’s dangerous. Very much so. Wedding vows will nae keep the man from taking her.”

  “This keep will,” Duncan declared.

  “Do nae be too certain of yer plan,” Marcus warned. “Ye have kin the earl may strike at. I’ve seen him do it. The man has no honor. He’ll find a weak spot and force ye to give her up. The man annulled me own vows without so much as a Hail Mary said in penitence. Go down there, and he’ll slap ye in chains rather than ennoble ye if ye arrive without the payment yer father promised him.”

  “I am no’ afraid of a few months in prison,” Rolfe answered tightly.

  “Morton will no’ hesitate to chop yer head off and set it on a pike as a warning to the other Highland clans,” Marcus continued. “He sent Robert Gunn into me own castle to make it clear that he can reach into every one of our keeps. He is determined to destroy our way of life, man. Taking yer head, when ye’ve wed without the permission of yer laird and father, will be the perfect opportunity.”

  “I will do what I’ve promised me father I would,” Rolfe declared firmly. “Ye’re right to be angry with me for taking her home without thinking about what me father might do with her. I took her there because she needed a lesson, one ye could no’ teach her after letting her have her way so long.”

  Marcus let out a grunt. “Aye, true enough. It’s me failing, one I admit.”

  “And I will do what me father ordered me to do,” Rolfe continued. “Just a
s ye would. To do less is to be unworthy of leading me clan. Ye know that is true. It’s the reason ye went to see Morton yerself.”

  Marcus slowly nodded. “In that case, ye’d best get on with being grateful that I managed to catch up with ye, because ye will need all the friends ye can muster. Even so, ye stand a fine chance of losing yer head.”

  * * *

  Katherine felt the world spinning.

  It was fortunate she was leaning against a wall, because her knees felt weak.

  Morton will no’ hesitate to chop yer head off…

  Rolfe was noble to his core, something she admired about him. There was no doubt in her mind that he would face Morton, because his father had ordered him to.

  But Marcus never spoke in jest when it came to matters of life and death.

  And then there were her own dealings with Morton.

  Oh yes, she recalled the way the man had looked at her.

  Rolfe was a Highlander. A man who lived his life by the code of facing his enemies. She didn’t think him simple enough to discount the fact that some men didn’t hold themselves to a code of honor, but he would still maintain his own, even at the risk of placing himself in Morton’s power.

  And for what?

  Marcus was correct about Morton being very good at finding people’s weaknesses. Duncan might try to protect her, even send her north again with Marcus, but that help would not come for free. No, she’d always know that her freedom cost something. Maybe they would keep the details from her, but she knew Morton would not be bested without extracting his vengeance.

  It made her sick to think of the MacPhersons suffering for her. They had given her so much.

  Damn her need to defy the world! If she had not been so childish and had minded Marcus, none of this ever would have happened.

  You never would have met Rolfe…

  Tears stung her eyes as she contemplated that. It tormented her, deep in her heart. Her feelings stirred, roiling as if they were about to boil over.

  She would not let Rolfe lose his head.

  No, the solution was simple, and Marcus had made certain she had the skills to see her decision made into reality. She pressed closer to the door, listening as the men planned.