The Scot's Pursuit (Highland Swords Book 3)

by Keira Montclair

  “She’s better, but she’s staying abed.” Spanning the remaining distance between them, she got up on her toes and whispered, “Do you know what I learned?”

  His sister loved to be the first to spread word of any new event, but sometimes what she deemed important was hardly anything he cared about. Guessing this would prove to be one of those times, he rolled his eyes and asked, “What?”

  “Your girlfriend is betrothed to an old man and he’s bothering her.”

  This was not one of those times. “Chrissa, what are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Aye, you do and her name is Branwen and I met her and she has to marry an ugly old man with six bairns. He’s bothering her, but she doesn’t want him…”

  He held his hand up to stop her. “Where is she?”

  Chrissa pointed off to the side, to two figures standing some distance away.

  He pointed. “Go back to the keep.”

  Chrissa took off toward the lists. Wrong way, but he didn’t care.

  Although Branwen and her companion were too far away for him to hear their conversation, he didn’t like the look of it. She seemed agitated, uncomfortable. So he headed in their direction.

  It was then he saw Branwen attempt to push the older man away. But he simply reached for her again.

  They were in Alick’s mother’s garden, which only made him more furious. Hands in fists, he turned to face his father, who was just catching up with him. “Da, I don’t care what her father says, I’m interfering again.”

  “Chrissa said there’s trouble? Are those the two?” Da’s brow furrowed as he looked toward them. “Aye, she looks to be refusing his advances and they are alone. Go do what’s right.”

  Considering that as all the permission he needed, he stalked toward them, nearly running. “Leave her be!” he shouted from afar.

  Ware turned around and dropped his hands immediately from Branwen, but he didn’t look guilty enough to Alick’s mind.

  “This is none of your affair, lad,” the man said. “This is my betrothed and we were having a conversation. ’Tis all, so go on your way.”

  Alick said, “Like hell. You were forcing her to do something she didn’t wish to do. I could see that all the way from the gate.”

  “A kiss,” Ware said, his lips pursing. “’Twas all. I was kissing my betrothed.”

  Alick glanced quickly at Branwen to ensure he was reading the situation correctly. He could see the relief in her gaze, so he continued in his pursuit. “What you were doing is irrelevant to me. The relevant matter is that she was pushing you away. You need her permission, and you surely did not have it.” He stood about a horse-length away from the man and settled his hands on his hips, his sword easily within reach.

  Not that he expected it to turn into one of those types of battles, but one could never be certain.

  Ware reached for Branwen’s hands and clasped them within his own, a bit too tightly if Alick were to guess. “Tell him the truth, lass. Was I forcing you?”

  Branwen glanced between them, her expression a blend of confusion and fear. Fear of being slapped again by her father. In fact, he was quite sure he knew who’d put that bruise on her cheek. Punishment for what they did last eve.

  He held his hand up to Branwen. “Do not answer him. I could see you were doing your best to refuse him, and my sire is also a witness.” Turning back to Ware, he said, “Unhand her now and step away.”

  “Nay, we are to wed soon.” He did release her, but he stood with his arms crossed in front of him like a defiant child who wouldn’t be swayed.

  “’Tis irrelevant. My grandsire taught everyone on Grant land that a man needs a woman’s permission to kiss or touch her. Step away from the lass.”

  A furious voice rent the air, and even though he’d only met with the man the previous night, Alick knew it was her sire. “Grant, stay out of this,” the man said, storming up to them. “I have given my consent to their marriage and to his courting my daughter. ’Tis not your affair.”

  Da joined them too, his expression uncommonly serious as he quietly took everything in. “I am also a witness. Osbert, step away from the lass. Now.”

  Osbert glared at him, but he did as he was told—only for Alick to take his place.

  Ignoring him, the older man turned to Denton. “I’ll leave for now and speak to you inside, my lord.”

  Once he left, Denton took Branwen by the wrist and yanked her behind him. “Leave her be, Grant. She’s taken.”

  “I will make my intentions known. I’m asking permission to court her, Denton.” He caught the surprise that flashed across Da’s face before his expression settled on a smirk.

  “Denied,” Denton said flatly.

  It was obvious he hadn’t considered it, and Da did not let the insult stand. “Are you implying there is something wrong with my son, Arnald? He’s a fine man and one you should be proud to bring into the family.”

  Denton finally lifted his glare from Alick. “Under other circumstances, I would agree with you, but he’s been overbearing to Branwen during our entire visit. I deny your son, and we will take our leave on the morrow. She’s betrothed to another.”

  Da turned to Branwen and asked, “Has my son been bothering you at all, my lady?”

  Her look was one of shock and horror, but Alick felt fairly sure it wasn’t his request that had horrified her. Or at least he hoped so. She shook her head and whispered, “Nay, he’s been most kind.”

  She flinched, and he noticed Denton cruelly twisting her wrist.

  Branwen whispered, “But he…”

  Alick stepped forward until he was a hand’s length from Denton’s face. “Let go of Branwen’s wrist. I can see you’re hurting her. Don’t try to deny it.”

  Denton’s only response was to slowly release his hold on Branwen, who quickly rubbed her wrist before hiding it behind her back. Her father said, “Branwen, walk ahead of me and go back inside the keep.”

  She did as she was told, and Alick fought the instinct to pull her into his arms as she walked past him. Her sire glowered at him as he followed her. The moment they were out of hearing, Alick turned to his father. “I’m not giving up.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you did,” Da said. “That lass needs a champion. And I might add that your mother and I were starting to wonder if you’d ever get serious about someone.”

  “I’m going to talk with her uncle. The Earl of Thane will surely listen to reason.”

  “Will he? He doesn’t support King Robert, and we do. That may be reason enough for him to say nay.”

  Alick thought for a moment and said, “I’ll find a way. I’ll not allow her to be married off to that disgusting old goat.”

  “You’re just like your mother,” Da said, shaking his head softly, although he had a small smile. “Get an idea in your mind and you won’t leave it be, will you?”

  “Mama? Why do you say that?”

  “You don’t recall the story about your mother taking it upon herself to chase a villain down all by herself? The two of us were taken prisoner, kept in a dungeon, and all because your mother was worried about Grandsire and his injury. She does not hear the word nay at all.”

  Alick stared after Branwen. “Then I guess I am just like Mama. My mind is set. Branwen will be mine someday.”

  Chapter Five

  Branwen pushed on the bruises her father had left on her wrist. Usually, she did her best to forget his mistreatment, but this time was different. This time she would force herself to remember, give herself a reason to leave.

  She wanted to see Alick one more time before they left. It was nearly midnight and she knew her sire and brother would be abed. The perfect time to sneak away. Many of the lasses had left, so it was easier to escape the lasses’ chamber than it had been the night before. Once in the passageway, she made her way down to the hall and then slipped out into the cold of the night.

  Would he be awake, as she’d hoped? And, if so, would she
be lucky enough to find him?

  She strode through the courtyard, pulling her hood over her head, and meandered toward the gate. Passing the stables, larger than any stables she’d ever seen before with three buildings pressed together, she smiled at the quiet sounds of the horses nickering and settling in for the night.

  On a whim, she stepped inside the back entrance, moving from horse to horse, looking for a friendly beast. She had more animal friends than people, although she knew that to be her sire’s doing.

  A chestnut horse with a white marking on its face whinnied at her, so she found an apple in a bin and handed it to the majestic animal, watching it toss its mane this way and that as it chewed on the sweet treat.

  “Branwen?” a shadow called to her from the end of the passageway between the stalls.

  Whirling quickly, she ran for the door she’d used to enter, fearful someone else had discovered her. But the hand that snaked around her waist felt familiar, comforting, and when he turned her about to face him, she saw it was him.

  Alick MacNicol.

  “Alick, your pardon. I feared it was someone else,” she whispered, grateful when he did not immediately release her. His scent reached her, apple and an ale if she were to guess. Something pleasing to her.

  “May I escort you outside?”

  “Please. Far away from here.” She settled her hands on his shoulders, feeling the hardness beneath her fingers. Reveling in it. How she wished to let her hands roam farther, down his arms, across his chest. She even had a desire to touch the bare skin of his chest, although she knew not what caused her to have such thoughts. “I wished to see you again. We may be leaving after the midday meal.”

  Carnal desires, she’d overheard her sire say once to a peer.

  The way her sire had said it made it sound dirty, but nothing she’d done, or wanted to do, with Alick seemed dirty.

  “I’d hoped you’d stay two more days, but I know others are taking their leave.” Then he leaned in and kissed her neck, sending a tingling feeling all through her body. “And how far away shall I take you, lass? Shall we go to the meadow or the loch? Or shall I whisk you off to my cousin’s castle in the Lowlands?”

  She leaned into his ear and whispered, “Aye, I’d like that.” Where had this sudden boldness come from?

  He gave her an odd look, as if waiting for her to explain her comment, but she did not. She just took his hand, and they left from the back entrance to the stables. To her surprise, he led her directly through the gates, ignoring the guards’ curious looks.

  She was grateful to leave, but still she asked, “You do not worry outside your gates?”

  “Nay,” he said. “The guards are always close enough. You’d be surprised how far you can see from the parapets and the curtain wall. They are always watching for intruders.”

  He stopped by a tree and tugged her close. “I’m sorry that man was a brute. Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head and blushed. “Nay. He was trying to kiss me and I didn’t want him to. He would not accept my refusal. He told me since we were betrothed he could do whatever he wished with me. You said ’twas not the way in Clan Grant. Did you say it just to get him to stop?”

  “Nay,” he said, running his finger down her jawline to her chin. “I said it because I don’t wish for anyone else to touch you. No one but me. Does that bother you?”

  She shook her head. “His hands were…I don’t know how to describe it. Uncomfortable. Rude. Not nice.”

  “Not mine. ’Tis all you need to say.”

  She giggled at what he said, and also at the depth and strangeness of what she felt. She hadn’t known it was possible to be this taken with a man so quickly. The stars could not have chosen a more perfect man for her. He had a way of making her smile, of making her feel special, of making her understand what her mother had spoken of so long ago. Love, laughter, a life together on your own. And one more thing blossomed inside her.

  Hope. Hope for a better life, of purpose, of exploring the world outside Thane Castle.

  And she couldn’t deny that she wanted Alick too, in a way she’d never wanted anyone. His beard was a bit scruffy, probably because it was the end of the day, and it matched his hair color perfectly. She wondered how the different hair on his body would feel under her fingertips—his short whiskers, his long hair, the curly hairs on his chest peeking out from his tunic. Would they be coarse or soft? He had a strong jawline, beautiful green eyes, and a lock of hair that almost fell into his eye on one side. The sudden urge to brush it back overtook her, so she did, earning her an arched brow in response.

  His thumb came up to rub her bottom lip, something she found to be oddly arousing, her nipples hardening against her chemise. It was a new experience for her, but she liked it. “I prefer your kiss. I don’t wish for any others.”

  “Would you like to be kissed again, Branwen?” he whispered.

  “Aye. I’d much rather be kissed by you than Osbert.” Her gaze found his, and a brashness most unlike her took over. She pushed her hands against his chest, feeling the hardness under his tunic, wondering again what his chest felt like under it. Were a man’s nipples like her own? She blushed at the thought, her face heating for many reasons.

  His head dipped to hers, and his lips grazed over hers in a light kiss. She gasped at the burst of heat the short kiss sent through her. He pulled back and looked at her as if in a question. She nodded quickly to give him his answer, then added, “Please don’t stop.”

  His hand cupped her cheek and his lips descended against hers, melding with hers until she tasted the apples on his lips. His tongue pressed against her lips and she opened to him, surprised when his tongue swept inside her mouth, touching hers.

  She quite liked surprises. Especially from Alick. Leaning into him, she pressed her body against his, wanting to feel his muscular frame, and his hands wrapped around her, tugging her closer until there was nothing between them but their garments. In that moment, she wondered how it would feel to have nothing on, to be skin to skin with him.

  His breathing became rapid, as did hers, while they explored each other—their mouths melding, his hands caressing her body. He touched her hips, her bottom, and even cupped her breasts. She ran her hands across his broad shoulders, his large upper arms, and down the rippling muscles of his back until he groaned.

  She pulled back, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Nay, lass,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I enjoyed every moment of kissing you, but I think mayhap we’ve surprised each other enough. But will you stay and talk with me? I wish to know more of you.”

  “And I’d like to learn of you.”

  They found a flat rock and sat down, the cold stone not bothering her at all, for Alick wrapped his arm around her and tucked her close to his side.

  He started with a proposal that pleased her. “I would court you if your sire would allow, but I don’t think he would welcome it, if his response earlier was any indication. But I should ask you first. Do you think we would suit? Or would you prefer another?” His green eyes locked on hers as he asked the question, his gaze surprisingly vulnerable.

  “Nay,” she blurted out, “you are the only one I want, but I don’t know how to persuade my father.” She leaned against him, holding his upper arm and resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Your mother?”

  “My mother passed on two years ago. She fell from a horse and died instantly.”

  “An aunt? An older sister who might talk to him?”

  “My uncle, the Earl of Thane. I can try to convince him to help. He’s always been much kinder than my sire. He is my mother’s brother. He acts much more kindly to me than my own father does, possibly because he only has two sons, no daughters of his own. We’ve always lived in a tower room at Thane Castle, but it suddenly feels so small.”

  “Aye, I hoped your uncle might be willing to help us.” They sat quietly for a moment, and Alick wrapped his arm around her, his heat warmi
ng her insides more thoroughly than the warmest mantle. When had she ever felt so special?

  “Why do you still live at Thane Castle?”

  “My father hates living there, yet he doesn’t have the coin to live in the luxury of his own castle. I suspect he also stays because he thinks it will benefit my brothers. He’s never cared about how it might benefit me.” She used to tell herself that was simply the way of it for lasses, but his treatment had only grown worse, colder, until it had become too obvious to deny.

  “Does your father always hurt you?” Alick asked.

  “He was better when my mother was still with us. Ever since she passed, he’s become more and more difficult to deal with. At first, I thought just because he missed her, but ’tis more than that. He is never happy with anything I do, yet my brothers can do no wrong.”

  “Does he ever hurt them? Twist their arms, slap them the way he does you?”

  She sat up to stare at him, almost embarrassed to admit the truth, but she trusted Alick. “Nay, he only punishes me, and I know not why.” A tear slid down her cheek. She reached up to swipe it away, but Alick stilled her hand, leaning in to kiss the tear away.

  “I’ll ask Grandsire why a man would act so toward his own daughter. He might have an idea.”

  “You get along with your grandsire? I never knew mine. I always wondered what it would be like to have one.”

  “I adore Grandsire. We all do. He’s the backbone of our clan, the best swordsman and strategist who ever lived. We ask him everything and he guides us even when we don’t ask.”

  “Does he ever get angry with you for not listening to him?”

  Alick paused for a moment, then shook his head. “My father likes to remind me if he told me something and he was correct. Grandsire would never do that.” He smiled, glancing up at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “I never realized that before, but ’tis true. Papa and Mama will both remind me of my mistakes. Grandsire? He just raises his eyebrows like this.” He mimicked a quizzical expression. “And when he does it, we’ve all learned to think about our actions. When he’s actually angry, his eyebrows go together in the middle and his eyes narrow like this.” He mimicked him again, chuckling. “Unfortunately, he’s at my cousin’s keep, so I’ll not be able to talk to him about any of this.”