by Mary Wine
Nuns weren’t supposed to swear, but she meant it.
***
Connor watched Brina until she was behind a large outcropping of rocks. He listened to her steps and heard her stop. That was a relief, for he wasn’t in the mood to chase her.
No, he was feeling shamed by her words, no mistake about it.
“Are ye sure ye want to keep her?”
Shawe spoke softly, and Connor heard a measure of the same discomfort he was feeling in the man’s voice. He should have recalled that women raised to become brides of Christ were expected to shun all contact from men. Brina had more courage than he’d given her credit for, because the lightest contact between them must have been jarring for her to endure.
“Ye know my reasons, Shawe.” Connor turned to face his men because he was not a man who expected to be followed just because of who his father had been. He looked each of them straight in the eye before continuing to speak.
“We need the alliance with the Chattans. If I wed Deirdre, there will be talk from the Douglas that my children are nae Lindsey, but Melor’s bastards, even if I chained her to the tower-room wall for the next ten years.”
There were several nods of agreement.
“But I would nae care to do something like that to the lass. The Lindseys need a mistress who can run Birch Stone and do her part in making sure life is good for every member of the clan. I want no wife who needs guarding every day of her life.”
Now there were a few muttered “ayes” from his retainers.
“Robert Chattan promised me one of his daughters, and the middle one is betrothed to McLeod’s son, so I cannae be taking her without causing trouble with the McLeod. That leaves Brina, or we go home without an alliance with the Chattans and the McLeods when her sister weds.”
His men didn’t care for that idea. They’d been on the trail for close to a month now chasing down the rumors of Deirdre and her lover. The men in front of him wanted their wives and families, but they were willing to follow him in the cause of bringing home a wife for the laird who would bring good fortune to them all.
Some lairds took English or French wives because they came with silver and gold, but in the unstable country, a wife who was related to a strong clan was worth more than money. If he took a French girl to his bed, he might find his castle besieged for the gold she had come with. A dead man didn’t get the chance to enjoy his coin.
“What of the church?”
It was Kurtus who spoke up, displaying a frown of disapproval.
Connor tilted his head. “I say the church can have Deirdre, for she needs their strict guidance more than Brina. As the elder sister, her dowry will be greater, and that should appease the church. By keeping Brina, we shall have a Chattan lass who conducts herself with honor. If ye do nae agree, speak yer mind while we are within riding distance of the abbey, but I say, if we take Brina there, we shall have little to show for all our time on the road and a difficult future without an alliance while the clans around us make strong ones.”
That sealed his men’s opinions. Connor watched them weigh the idea of their neighbors making alliances while they failed to do so. That would mean a dark future for the Lindseys, and no mistake about it. His men nodded, none of them stepping forward to protest. That didn’t mean they were completely content with the matter of taking a bride of Christ away from the church, but there was one thing that a Highlander might agree upon, and that was a fair exchange. The Chattans would be the ones adjusting their thinking, since it was their woman who had upset the agreement.
It wasn’t perfect, not by far, but Connor was relieved to see his men turning to prepare to ride on without any further discussion. They would take Brina with them without any protest and do their duty in making sure their laird’s future wife remained with the clan.
Connor didn’t bother to worry about the fact that some lairds wouldn’t have allowed their men to protest their actions. He was the laird, and he would lead the Lindsey the only way he knew how, through fairness. He’d never order a man to do a task that he wouldn’t complete himself, and he’d never refuse to hear any of his men speak their mind if they thought it was best for the clan.
That was what drove him, the need to do the best for the clan. He’d spent a good part of his youth never expecting to marry at all because he was bastard born and worse yet, a bastard of the laird that had no legitimate sons. No family would want to risk their daughter wedding him because there might be fighting over who was to become laird and killing him would be a good way to end the argument. Any wife he had would die along with him. But fate had decreed that he would be laird. Now he’d wed, but for the gain it would bring his kin and the stability it would offer when his wife gave him a legitimate son to end all doubt about who was laird of the Lindsey.
The days of his being at the mercy of his greedy uncle were past.
That thought burned inside of him so brightly, it had kept him warm on nights that had killed other youths. In the corner of a stable, where his guardian had left him to survive by whatever means he might, he had held tight to his honor, because it was the only thing that was truly his.
The church wouldn’t like what he’d done, but he’d suffer their displeasure to prove to his clan that he was strong enough to place their welfare before his own. Just as his mother had held her head high and not wed because her own father was being so stubborn. It had cost her dearly, but in the end she had secured her dowry for the Lindseys, making sure that the clan grew stronger in spite of the shame being directed toward her. He would not fail to be just as determined. Building a better future for his children was more important than any hard feelings Robert Chattan might harbor toward him at the moment. He’d stand firmly in place, and the Chattan laird would relent after enough time had passed with Brina secured at Birch Stone.
***
She was tempted to run.
Brina looked toward the trees that grew halfway down the valley on the other side of the boulders behind which she had taken her privacy. They looked closer than they were, she knew that from her hunting lessons, but still she gazed at them and felt the longing to run grow stronger. The fresh blanket of snow also made her frown, for it would show her tracks clearly.
Connor would run her down easily with that stallion of his. The creature was huge and strong from traveling the uneven paths of the Highlands. Frustration bit into her, but she forced herself to be practical. The time was not right now, but if she could employ enough patience, she might yet find a chance to escape.
She would also need to be clever.
Connor Lindsey was no fool, and slipping past him would take some thinking on her part. She drew a deep breath and banished her temper so that she might use all her mental abilities in plotting a solution.
She had to escape. It was the only honorable thing to do. The promise that her father had made to the church bound her to try and take her place at the abbey. There was also the example that her sister Deirdre had just experienced with Melor. Men were not to be trusted and she’d be wise to remember it. They used women for their own gains, and that was a hard fact. Connor Lindsey might claim his intention was to wed her, but there was no contract to bind him to that. The man could very well ruin her and abandon her in order to shame her father for the dishonor Deirdre had painted him with.
It would not be the first time a woman had been used in such a way. Much of Scotland’s history was written in feuds that lasted for generations.
She bit her lower lip, feeling the flicker of something inside her that interfered with her logic. It was a sense that Connor was not the fiend she had called him, a belief that was growing from the lack of brutality in her abduction. The man might easily have used his greater strength to break her, and she doubted anyone would have thought ill of him for it. Her sister had done a grave thing to him, one that the man’s clan would seek retaliation for.
Was that her fate, then? She sat down on a rock and faced the trees while she considered the lack of pain in her body. Her thighs were sore, but no more so than when she hunted. Her face was not bruised, but her fist hurt from when she had struck Connor.
He hadn’t hit her in return.
Well, that wasn’t completely true. She felt her cheeks heating with humiliation as she recalled in perfect clarity the feeling of his hand connecting with her bottom.
“Are ye hoping that sitting there will delay us long enough for yer father’s men to catch up with us?”
Brina jumped, but she landed balanced and evenly as she turned to discover Connor standing a few paces behind her. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes, and she felt her temper flare again for the amusement she seemed to provide him.
“That would be ridiculous, considering we rode all night and the snow would have covered our tracks…” She shook her head, disgusted by the fact that she was so quick to allow her thoughts to spill from her lips. The man was her captor, and if escape was truly her goal, helping him to know that she had the ability to reason was not in her best interest.
She gasped and turned around to cover her mouth with her hand. Of course! She was such a trusting fool not to see the way of it before. She needed to play upon his ignorance of her and her skills. If he believed her tamed, slipping past him would be simple.
“Are ye truly that upset no’ to be on yer way to the abbey, lass?”
Brina turned to look at him. “Of course I am. What manner of daughter do ye believe me to be? If ye think me so easily knocked from the path of being obedient to my father’s will, I cannae understand why ye might wish to take me to wife.”
His lips curled up into a grin, and she realized she had made yet another error. He took two long steps and closed the distance between them. Sensation prickled along her skin, a feeling that she might have expected because of the icy chill in the air, but she knew it came from him being close. Her belly tightened, just as it had when he had touched her.
“Which is exactly why ye are here, Brina, because ye understand honor, and that is what I need in a wife.”
“There is no honor in this abduction. I am nae just another daughter of Robert Chattan; I am promised to the church.” She opened her hands and tried to appeal to his sense of integrity. “I know that Deirdre stung yer pride, and for that I am sorry, but taking me is against everything righteous.”
“I disagree, lass. There is righteousness in a man keeping his word, and when that man is a laird, there is even more so. Yer father made me a promise, and I plan to make sure he keeps it.”
“He promised ye Deirdre.”
Connor shook his head. “He promised me an alliance that would be sealed with marriage to one of his daughters.”
“Which ye know full well was to be my sister Deirdre. Everyone knows that. It is the only reason Melor Douglas sought her out.”
He closed another step, judging her reaction to his nearness. Brina ordered herself to stand firmly in place, confident in her position because that was something he would understand. Quivering or pleading would only allow him to see her as bendable to his will, so she kept her chin level.
Connor slowly smiled when she held firmly in her stance. She had to tip her head up maintain eye contact because he was now so close.
“I do believe, sweet Brina, that ye would have done better if Melor had tried his hand at seducing ye.”
She scoffed at him, and he chuckled when he heard the distinctly unfeminine sound. “No man has ever tried such a thing, because I am promised to the church.” She threw her hands into the air. “Ye are daft even to make such a comparison.”
He laughed at her temper, his eyes sparkling with enjoyment.
“Now that is my point exactly, Brina. Ye are an interesting combination of feminine wiles and practicality. Ye are nae so concerned with me becoming angry because ye speak to me so directly, because ye are accustomed to being direct in everything ye do.” His grin faded, and his expression became serious. “Ye do nae know how to employ deception.”
She frowned, realizing that her outspokenness was going to undermine her attempt to escape from him. If the man respected her, he wouldn’t lower his guard.
“Yet that is another reason for ye to give me my mare and allow me to depart. Our marriage bed will be a cold one, for I am too old to be taught new ways now.”
His eyes narrowed, but not in anger as she had witnessed before. This time there was an unmistakable sensuality about his expression. Brina stared because it fascinated her to see a man looking at her like that. A warning was ringing in the back of her mind but couldn’t seem to break through the spell of her fixation.
“Well now, lass, that is a matter of opinion, and no’ one that ye may argue with, for a man does nae choose what he likes. He is just as powerless against it as ye are. I assure ye that I am up to the challenge of enticing ye to learn new ways.”
Alarm raced through her, and she jerked her gaze away from his face. “That was nae meant to be a challenge but to make ye see reason.”
Turning her attention away from him was unnerving. She felt a tingle on the back of her neck. She looked back at him to discover that he had taken advantage of the opportunity she’d afforded him and was standing right in front of her now, his hand hovering over her cheek, where her blush stained the skin scarlet.
She jumped away, only to find that he’d grasped a handful of her skirts, and the hold kept her in place while his fingers gently brushed the side of her face. He did it slowly, his eyes glittering as he watched his hand traveling along the side of her jaw.
“Ye say ye do nae like me, and yet ye blush, Brina. That is something that cannae be ignored. It is the woman in ye, the one who ye have tried to suppress, but now ye do nae need to any longer. I promise that I will show ye how to enjoy every moment of being in our marriage bed.”
She shivered, the stroke of his fingers sending a ripple of awareness through her that shocked her with its intensity. His fingertips continued across her face until they touched her lower lip, and she gasped, never having guessed that her mouth might be so sensitive.
“I will nae dishonor my father’s word, nae for any amount of pleasure.”
She swatted the hand holding her skirts, but all that gained her was a smarting palm, because the man never moved. His fingers remained locked in the fabric of her garments, his grasp pulling down slightly so that she was pinned in place. He stepped closer, and her nipples tingled just because she could feel him so near.
His hand was no longer on her lips, so there was no true contact between them, but she could smell him and hear his every breath as he kept her in place with the grip on her skirts. The hems of both robes covered his feet, and she discovered it an intimate thing for him to be so near her.
“We are nae getting any closer to agreeing by discussing it, lass.”
“On that, I concur.”
His hand cupped her cheek again. “Ah… we agree. Now that is exactly what I was hoping to hear from ye.” He slid his hand toward the back of her head to curl around her nape beneath the single plait of her hair. He leaned over, and she felt the brush of his breath against the skin that his fingers had traveled over. She arched her neck, seeking distance, but the hand clasping her nape held her in place.
“So perhaps we should try something a bit different and see what sort of reaction we gain from one another.” He kissed her cheek and then trailed light touches of his lips along the entire length of her blush. Pleasure went racing through her, and she was powerless to prevent a soft sound from escaping her lips.
“Ah… more agreement…”
Confusion clouded her thinking for moment. He angled his head and bent down so that he might kiss her. The first touch of his lips was soul shattering. She jerked, her hands coming up to plant solidly against his chest and push with every ounce of str
ength she had. She twisted her face away from his, escaping from the kiss for a moment.
“No one has ever kissed me!” she shrieked, unable to remain composed. She struck out at him, her nails trying to find something soft to dig into.
“A fact that needs changing.”
In spite of her temper, his voice was controlled and husky. He leaned down and placed another soft kiss against her cheek. “Admit that ye enjoy it, Brina. I swear I do as well, for yer lips are as sweet as honey.”
She shivered, the dark promise in his voice threatening to lure her away like a fairy song from legend.
“But… it’s… sinful…”
The fingers on the back of her neck tightened, pulling forward a small amount so that her face tipped back up and presented her mouth to his once again. He hovered over her mouth for a moment, and she saw that he was holding back, tempering his desire.
“I swear that I will wed ye, Brina. There will be no shame, only pleasure.”
He kissed her again, this time following her when she turned away from the contact. It wasn’t a hard kiss. Connor controlled himself, and she shuddered because she knew that he was employing effort on her behalf. That knowledge overwhelmed her with how tender it was, and she lost the battle to resist. Her mouth moved beneath his, trying to mimic his motions.
“That’s the way, lass…” The hand on her nape began to guide her instead of binding her.
She liked his kiss. It was a hard certainty that filled her mind as his lips slid along hers, teasing and gently tasting, while she shivered in the grip of not knowing what to do. Even if she had been instructed at some point on how to kiss, Brina doubted she could have recalled what the lesson entailed. She was too overwhelmed by sensation to think. It flooded her and took her down into a moment where there was nothing except the way his mouth moved against her own.