Highland Hellcat

by Mary Wine

  “That color suits ye well.”

  Brina jerked her face up and discovered the head of house watching her. There was a twinkle in Maura’s eyes. “Ye remind me of a child on Twelfth Night, yer face all glowing with wonder as ye look at yer gifts.”

  She had only ever received practical gifts during the winter holidays, because her father didn’t want her to suffer when she was sent to the abbey and expected to give up all worldly possessions.

  Brina looked down again to hide her thoughts, for she felt like every feeling she had was on display.

  “Come this way, mistress, and we shall have you tucked beneath a thick comforter in no time at all.”

  Brina followed Maura toward the back of the bathhouse but turned when she heard the sound of flowing water. One of the women pulled on a rope that lifted the far end of the copper tub into the air. Another trough that was much wider sat beneath the tub, and as the foot of it was lifted, the water spilled over the edge, falling in a glittering wave toward the trough waiting below. There was enough of an angle to see the water rushing downhill toward another hole in the wall, and the sound of water splashing against the side of the tower told her how the water was being discarded.

  So clever and it meant that she might bathe every day, not just on special occasions.

  Brina froze, realizing that her hair was brushed out behind her and she was truly prepared to be presented as a bride. The only thing lacking was a priest to give the blessing, but many a couple sought the church’s approval after they had consummated their union.

  That would benefit Connor and the Lindseys in every way too. If she had no virtue, then wedding Connor would be in her best interest, for even the church would look scornfully upon a soiled nun. She would be required to do years of penance before being allowed to take vows. Among those who had no possessions, she would be the lowest of the humble.

  That was assuming Connor would wed her after having her. Considering that the man had taken her in vengeance, there was no way to trust that he would in fact marry her once he had lain with her. It was entirely possible that shaming her was what he sought. It wouldn’t be a unique form of revenge either.

  Connor’s promise rose up to needle her. He’d clearly declared that he wanted to wed her, so her thoughts were vindictive, considering that he’d spoken in front of his own retainers.

  It seemed that the only thing she held control over was herself, and she decided that fearing the unknown sickened her. Raising her face, she looked at Maura but found that the head of house was already moving across the chamber toward one of the darkened corners.

  “Where are ye taking me?”

  Maura looked slightly guilty, as though she had been hoping to avoid telling Brina anything until she had arrived and it was too late to argue.

  The head of house tilted her head to one side and huffed softly. “Well now, there are two sets of stairs that lead out of this chamber. The ones here that are tucked in the corner are private.” Maura tossed her head toward the doors Connor had brought her through. “Behind those are the two men the laird left to make sure ye do nae do anything foolish, like try to leave the tower when there is snow flying.”

  Brina felt her pride rear its head in the face of knowing that there were guards set on her. Only the guilty needed watching. It chafed her to know that Connor considered her untrustworthy.

  But you do plan to attempt escape…

  Her inner thoughts needed to be smothered. It was her duty to attempt escape. If she failed to try, she would be shaming her father just as Deirdre had done because she failed to try and set herself back onto the correct path. Nothing good could come from wrongdoing.

  “Ye look like ye haven’t slept in days, mistress. I promise there is a warm bed above this floor.”

  “That sounds very pleasant indeed.” And just the word “bed” made her notice how weary she was. Her bones actually ached with it, but her belly was tied into a knot so tight, it felt almost impossible to lift her foot and set it atop the first stone step. One of the women went ahead with a candle that flickered and cast shadows that danced between the stone walls of the passageway. It was narrow and clearly constructed for nothing except function. It was so small that no candles were left burning in it, because the holders would have scraped anyone using it.

  She admitted that she doubted if she had any strength left to protest what might be awaiting her at the top of the stairs. In the narrow confines of the stairwell, each step echoed. Brina heard her own breath and was sure the others could hear her heart accelerating. They reached the second floor and turned to mount another section of stone steps.

  Maura didn’t stop climbing until they reached the fourth story of the tower. It grew colder as they went higher, and the wind whistled through the arrow slits that looked like crosses so that the archer might aim in all directions. The open slits were an eerie reminder that the fortress was built to repel attack.

  It was also constructed to keep those inside secure.

  Or imprisoned, in her case.

  “This is a fine chamber.” Maura held a slim door open so that it would not shut on her.

  “A bunk in the kitchen would serve for as tired as I am.”

  “That would nae do for the future mistress of Birch Stone.”

  The chamber they entered was like something out of a little girl’s dream. Brina discovered herself enchanted with it, because it was everything that she had been told to not expect from life. She admitted that being lectured so often had sometimes seen her thinking about just what luxuries were.

  This chamber had them for certain. Only a few candles burned, but they were pure beeswax, for the sweet scent of honey floated through the air. She drew in a deep breath and smiled when the scent of lavender also teased her nose. The shutters were closed tight over the windows, and in spite of the wind whistling through the arrow slits, there was not a single rattle from any of the wooden shutters, telling her that someone had tended to them recently.

  The furnishings were fit for the grandest noble, or at least they were the finest she had ever seen. Two large chairs sat near the fireplace with their backs carved with the crest of the Lindsey clan. They had plump cushions tied to their seats, and the fabric was rich in hues of green and blue.

  “I’ll leave ye to settle in, mistress. No one shall disturb ye, but the laird bid me warn ye that the night is frigid and ye should no’ venture out. His retainers will nae allow ye to.”

  “Of course he did.”

  The head of house clicked her tongue in disapproval of her tone. “He’s a good laird, who thinks of his clan before himself. Consider that before ye judge him too harshly.”

  Maura lowered herself before going back to the narrow door and slipping away down the stairs. Brina sighed and realized that she was at last alone. She glanced around the chamber, walking into the center of it and turning all the way around before blowing out another breath.

  But her relief was not complete, because she looked at the outer chamber doors and frowned as Maura’s words rose as clear as a bell in her thoughts.

  She realized that she had not been thankful enough for her future as a nun, because it had afforded her much freedom and privacy that she only now noticed the blessing of.

  A large bed was set off to the other end of the room. It was set with curtains that were drawn, except for one side where the thick bedding was drawn down. It beckoned to her, and she didn’t bother to ignore the summons. She was too tired to do anything but pinch out the candles on her way toward the bed. Once dark, the chamber seemed stranger, but the bedding was thick and scented with lavender.

  She slid between the sheets, muttering with delight as the comforter settled around her and began to warm her toes.

  Sleep rose up to embrace her, but it was not a dark oblivion. Instead Connor’s blue eyes were there, watching her with that piercing gaze she
noticed so much. The man mesmerized her, and that was no mistake. She was drawn to him, feeling some need to look into his eyes while she ventured closer to him. Deep in sleep, she recalled his kiss, her lips tingling with sensation that bled down her body, warming every inch of her just as his touch had done.

  If that was wickedness, if longing for another kiss was the path to damnation, then she was surely wicked.

  ***

  Maura lowered herself but kept her chin level when Connor frowned at her.

  “Ye’re my laird and have my loyalty, but I’ll say it plain that I’ve come to speak my mind to ye.”

  Maura was old enough to be his mother, and in many ways she had raised him. She’d done her best to fill the emptiness left when his mother died and his uncle took control of the Lindsey clan.

  “Then tell me straight, Maura. Do ye disapprove of my bride?”

  The older woman who had wiped the blood off his face after countless fights scoffed at him.

  “If that were so, I would nae have taken her above stairs to await ye, but told ye to do yer own sinful deeds.”

  Connor hadn’t anticipated how much he would enjoy hearing that Brina was ready for him. His cock twitched, surprising him, because just a few minutes past he had been certain fatigue was going to crush him beneath its weight.

  “Then what is on yer mind?”

  Maura clicked her tongue at his tone. Connor felt a twinge of guilt because she was the woman who had been there for him, and she rarely spoke her mind now that he was laird. He forced himself to bite back his next demanding question and wait for her to speak.

  “Yer tone tells me that ye’re eager for yer bride.”

  “That would be considered a blessing in most matches made for the sake of alliances.”

  “Aye, upon that point I agree.” Maura stopped talking and pressed her lips together for a long moment while she eyed him. There was a wealth of knowledge in her stare, the sort a person only gained through experience.

  “Ye have grown into a fine man, as large as yer father and maybe a wee bit more.” She ran her gaze down his frame once more. “Which is why I feel I should say my piece to ye. That girl is nae petite, but she is still half yer size.”

  Connor felt his temper rise. “I will no’ be rough with her.”

  Maura kept her tone even but firm. “That is no’ what I am aiming to talk about, but rough to a man’s thinking is different than it is to a woman’s.”

  Connor felt his fatigue return, or maybe it was frustration. He shook his head. “What are ye getting at, Maura?”

  “That girl was raised to serve the church.”

  Connor snorted with his displeasure. “I know that, but it was her or no alliance, which would leave us with the Douglas prowling our borders like hungry wolves.”

  “Ye are becoming cross for no good reason, Laird. I am nae here to debate whether or no’ taking her was a good deed or a bad one.”

  Connor went to speak, but Maura held up her hand, and he snapped his jaw shut.

  “I mean to tell ye what it means for a lass to be raised in that fashion, for there is no reason that ye might think upon the matter if ye do nae have it brought to you by an experienced woman, and due to the circumstances, her mother is nae here either.”

  Connor felt his forehead crease. “Which leaves you, so go on with what ye have to say.”

  Maura grunted, obviously becoming cross with him. “Ye are twice her size, and while that is nae an uncommon thing in couples, that girl has nae been touched.”

  “I expect her to be a maiden, which was the entire point of taking her instead of her sister.”

  Maura shook her head and blew out a short breath that left no doubt that she was growing impatient with him. “Even a maiden is allowed more touching and flirting than a girl who has been promised to the church.”

  “Aye, I noticed that she’s skittish already.”

  “Ye noticed, but did ye take any time to think upon the fact that a simple touch is alarming to her? Rush into consummating yer union, and ye might turn that girl fearful or, worse yet, resentful of intimacy for the rest of her days.”

  “Obviously ye didna see her in the courtyard when we rode in. Brina Chattan is no quivering lass.”

  Maura humphed at him. “I did see, and one has naught to do with the other, but I’m wasting my time if ye cannae hear what it is I am saying.” She lowered herself but hesitated before turning to leave. “Mark my words, Laird; fail to seduce her like a lover, and ye will never have a contented wife. Ye will nae be the first to suffer a woman who feels shame every time she enjoys her husband. Yer aunt was that sort. That’s the truth that ye do nae know, but I do. It ate away at her soul and turned her bitter because she never learned to trust your uncle after he stole her and forced her into his bed so that there might be no changing the fact that she was his. That’s a man’s thinking, but I’ll tell ye a woman’s.” She lifted one finger up in warning. “Ye can steal a woman, but nae her affections. Her heart will be only hers, no matter what ye decide to do with her body.”

  His head of house left him alone with his thoughts, and Connor groaned. He turned his back on the doorway, trying to hide his unsettled emotions by facing the fireplace. There was nothing but a bed of coals blanketed in a thick layer of ash, giving heat but very little light. There wasn’t any light in the room because he preferred it dark. He’d lived a large chunk of his life without candles, and it had made him strong. The dark was nothing to fear.

  But allowing Brina to become anything like his aunt was…

  He’d all but forgotten that his uncle had stolen her with her dowry from a ship bound for England. His aunt had been a Frenchwoman who was a cousin of the English king. Connor’s uncle had claimed her and wed her, but the couple had never been content. He hadn’t thought on it for years because there were many matches in Scotland that didn’t begin on the most… legal of terms.

  That memory filled his mouth with a bitter taste.

  He lifted his forearm and looked at the scratches Brina had left on his skin. She might have been raised to serve the church, but there was a flame inside her that was neither humble nor meek.

  It was that part that he was going to enjoy taming.

  He took the stairs with silent feet and only slowed his pace enough so that the retainers he’d posted at the door of Brina’s room might recognize him in the darkness. They jerked their heads about when they noticed motion in the stairwell, their hands moving out of instinct before their gazes settled on his face. They reached up and tugged on the corners of their bonnets before stepping aside so that he could open one side of the double doors.

  The room was cloaked in darkness, but that didn’t stop him from locating Brina in the bed. She hadn’t closed the curtains, making it simple to spot her with the light from the fireplace coals.

  He crossed to her, feeling the slightest quiver of anticipation move through his belly. The feeling startled him, but at the same time it pleased him greatly. He’d spent a great deal of time thinking of this moment, when he would see his bride sleeping in the bed he was proud to be able to provide for her. The sheets she slept on had never been used by another soul; neither had the bed. Everything in the chamber had been carefully selected for her arrival. The sight of her unbound hair shimmering against the plump, goose feather–filled pillow was the reward that he’d desired while planning the chamber.

  He sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to jolt the mattress. Brina stirred, her breathing increasing for a mere moment before she turned her head and settled her cheek against the soft pillowcase. But her breathing never completely slowed back to the deep rhythm that it had been. He watched as she turned her head, almost as if she could sense his presence.

  Part of him enjoyed that idea. It had taken him two solid years to reach an agreement with her father. The fact that those negotiations ha
d resulted in Deirdre being named as his bride-to-be didn’t stop him from feeling the glow of satisfaction spread through him now.

  He was very pleased with the woman in front of him. More than pleased, for he felt drawn to her. The kiss he’d stolen from her burned a path through his mind, and even the fatigue of riding for so many days with little rest wasn’t enough to make him eager to seek out his bed instead of sitting on the side of hers.

  The delicate scent of her hair teased his nose. Connor reached down to touch the delicate strands, his fingertips gliding through them while a smile tugged his lips upward. Brina muttered and turned her face toward his hand. Her eyes remained closed, but she kicked at the bedding with soft motions that made slipping sounds against the sheets. His gaze was drawn to her lips. Even in the dark he could see the soft motions she made with them, almost as if she were dreaming of his kiss. He stretched his fingers out until he stroked the soft, tender skin. A delicate sound passed over those lips as she pressed the most innocent of kisses to his fingers.

  Connor felt that kiss more intensely than any he had ever experienced. For the first time since he had heard of his parents’ death, his heart felt warm. There was no logic to it, no way to truly grasp what he felt, only that it sat there burning slowly in his chest, melting ice that he hadn’t really noticed. Brina was the source of the heat that warmed him. The idea of leaving tore at him because every fiber in his being dictated that he lie down beside her and bask in the glow.

  But Maura’s words rose up to needle him. Brina was an innocent. She lay so trusting in the bed he’d selected for her that he stood up before he lost the resolve to leave her. Many things were said about him, but he wasn’t a rapist, and his head of house was correct about his bride. She wasn’t ready to accept the passion between them. It was a complication he hadn’t considered.