“You’re her husband,” George said, leaning back in his chair. “Ye had every right to collect her rents. Still do.”
Alison did not want to hear about husbands and their rights. She folded her arms and tamped down her impatience while she waited for the right moment to ask.
“Enough talk. We must join the men.” Archie threw back his cup of wine. “We’ll ride for Edinburgh as soon as they’ve eaten their fill.”
George was already on his feet. She could wait no longer.
“Ye must leave some of our Douglas warriors here to protect this castle,” she blurted out. “The Blackadder men are deserting me.”
She hoped her brothers would not ask why. She did not want to explain that burning her husband’s bed had insulted the Blackadder men and spurred many of them to leave. They disliked having a woman in command of the castle, and she had unwittingly given them the excuse they needed.
“I can’t spare any men now,” Archie said, slapping his gloves against his hand. “I must gather all my forces in a show of strength to convince my pigheaded wife that she needs my help to regain the Regency.”
“The Hamiltons will attempt to do the same,” George added.
“But what about me and my daughters?” Alison demanded. “What about the Blackadder lands Grandfather thought were so important that I was forced to wed that man? I was a child of thirteen!”
“For God’s sake, Alison, we’re in a fight for control of the crown,” Archie said. “That will not be decided at Blackadder Castle.”
“Please, I need your help.” She clutched Archie’s arm as he started toward the door. “Ye promised to protect us.”
Archie came to an abrupt halt, and the shared memory hung between them like a dead rat.
“Mother did not need to remind me of my duty to my family,” he said between clenched teeth. “And neither do you.”
Unlike the Douglas men, who lauded Archie’s seduction of the queen as a boon for the family, their mother begged him to end the affair. A generation ago, one of her sisters had been the king’s mistress. After it was rumored that the king had fallen so in love that he wished to marry her, all three of their mother’s sisters died mysteriously.
When Archie wed the queen in secret, knowing full well that every other powerful family in Scotland would oppose the marriage, their mother made one demand of her sons. Archie and George promised her, on their father’s grave, that they would protect their four sisters.
“I’ll find ye a new husband as soon as these other matters are settled,” Archie said. “You’ll be safe here until then.”
Another husband was not what Alison asked for and was the last thing she wanted. “What I need are warriors—”
“Who would dare attack you?” Archie said. “Now that we are rid of Albany, I am the man most likely to rule Scotland.”
Before she could argue, Archie pushed past her and disappeared down the circular stone stairwell.
“Don’t fret, Allie,” George said, and gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Your most dangerous neighbors were the Hume lairds, and they’re both dead.”
***
David Hume left his horse and warriors a safe distance outside the city walls and proceeded on foot. If the guards were watching for him, they would not expect him to come alone, or so he hoped. Keeping his hood low over his face and his hand on his dirk, he mingled with the men herding cattle through the Cowgate Port to sell in the city’s market.
A month ago, David would have been amused to find himself entering the great city of Edinburgh between two cows. But his humor had been wrung from him. As he walked up West Bow toward the center of the city, the rage that was always with him now swelled until his skin felt too tight.
He paused before entering the High Street and scraped the dung off his boots while he scanned the bustling street for anyone who might attempt to thwart him. Then, keeping watch on the armed men amidst the merchants, well-dressed ladies, beggars, and thieves, he started down the hill in the direction of Holyrood Palace. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Edinburgh Castle, the massive fortress that sat atop the black rock behind him. If he were caught, he would likely grow old in its bleak dungeon. He’d prefer a quick death.
David had walked this very street with his father and uncle. With each step, he tried to imagine how that day might have ended differently. Could he have stopped it? Perhaps, perhaps not. Regardless, he should have tried. From the moment they entered Holyrood Palace, he had sensed the danger. It pricked at the back of his neck and made his hands itch to pull his blade.
The Hume lairds had been guaranteed safe conduct. Relying on that pledge of honor made in the king’s name, David did not follow his instincts, did not shout to their men to fight their way out. Instead, he watched his father and uncle relinquish their weapons at the palace door, and he did the same.
Never again.
When he saw the stone arches of St. Giles jutting into the High Street, David’s heart beat so hard it hurt. The church was next to the Tolbooth, the prison where the royal guards brought his father and uncle after dragging them from the palace. David’s ears rang again with the shouts and jeers of the crowd that echoed off the buildings that day. As he crossed the square, he did not permit himself to look at the Tolbooth for fear that his rage would spill over and give him away.
He turned into one of the narrow, sloping passageways that cut through the tall buildings on either side of the High Street and found a dark doorway with a direct view of the Tolbooth. Only then did he lift his gaze.
Though he had known what to expect, his stomach churned violently at the sight of the two grisly heads on their pikes. His body shook with a poisonous mix of rage and grief as he stared at what was left of his father. They had made a mockery of the man David had admired all his life. His father’s sternly handsome features were distorted in a grimace that looked like a gruesome grin, his dark gold hair was matted, and flies ate at his bulging eyes.
David’s chest constricted until his breath came in wheezes. He wanted to fight his way into the palace, wielding his sword and ax until he killed every man in sight. But Regent Albany, the man who ordered the execution, was no longer in the palace, or even in Scotland.
In any case, David had too many responsibilities to give in to thoughtless acts that would surely result in his death. He was the new Laird of Wedderburn, and the protection of the entire Hume clan fell to him. When he thought of his younger brothers and how much they needed him, he finally loosened his grip on his dirk, which he’d been holding so tightly that his hand was stiff.
The execution of the two Hume lairds and this humiliating display of their heads made their clan appear weak and vulnerable. That perception put their clan in even greater danger, and so David must change it. This first step toward that end required stealth, not his sword.
He would have his bloody vengeance, but not today.
While he waited for nightfall, he pondered how Regent Albany had managed to prevail over men who were better than him in every way that should matter. The first time Albany captured David’s father and uncle, they persuaded their jailor, a Hamilton, to free them and join the queen’s side. A furious Albany responded by having their wives taken hostage.
David wondered if Albany understood at the time just how clever that move was, or if he had merely taken the women out of spite. In any event, the trap was set.
By then, Albany was planning to return to France, which was more home to him than Scotland. David’s uncle was inclined to wait and seek the women’s release from Albany’s replacement. But David’s father and stepmother had a rare love, and he was tortured by the thought of her suffering in captivity. Because of his weakness for her, he persuaded his brother to accept the regent’s invitation and guarantee of their safety.
“Free my wife! Avenge us!” his father had shouted to David as the guards dragged him away.
His father’s final words were burned into his soul. While he kept his vigil in the doorw
ay, they spun through his head again and again. He wanted to smash his fist into the wall at the thought of his stepmother living amongst strangers when she learned of her husband’s death. Nothing could save the man who held her hostage now. Vengeance was both a debt of honor David owed his father and necessary to restore respect for his clan.
When darkness finally fell on the city, David gave coins to the prostitutes who had gathered nearby and asked them to cause a disturbance. They proved better at keeping their word than the regent. While the women created an impressive commotion, screaming that they had been robbed, David scaled the wall of the Tolbooth.
Gritting his teeth, he jerked his father’s head off the pike and placed it gently in the cloth bag slung over his shoulder. He swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat and forced himself to move quickly. As soon as he had collected his uncle’s head, he dropped to the ground and left the square at a fast pace. He could still hear the prostitutes shouting when he was halfway to the gate.
A short time later, he reached the tavern outside the city walls where his men waited for him. His half-brothers must have been watching the door, for they ran to greet him as soon as he opened it. Will threw his arms around David’s waist, while Robbie, who was four years older, stood by looking embarrassed but relieved. David should admonish Will for his display in front of the men, but he did not have the heart. The lad, who was only ten, had lost his father and missed his mother a great deal.
“I told ye I’d return safe,” David said. “I’ll not let any harm come to ye, and I will bring your mother home.”
Their mother was being held at Dunbar, an impregnable castle protected by a royal garrison. While David did not yet know when or how he would obtain her release, he would do it.
He planned his next moves on the long ride back to Hume territory. In the violent and volatile Border region, you were either feared or preyed upon. David intended to make damned sure he was so feared that no one would ever dare harm his family again.
He would take control of the Hume lands and castles, which had been laid waste and forfeited to the Crown. And then he would take his vengeance on the Blackadders, the scheming liars. While pretending to be allies, the Blackadders had secretly assisted in his stepmother’s capture and then urged Albany to execute his father and uncle. It was a damned shame that the Laird of Blackadder Castle was beyond David’s reach in a new grave, but his rich lands and widow were ripe for the taking.
And the widow was a Douglas, sister to the Earl of Angus himself. For a man intent on establishing a fearsome reputation, that made her an even greater prize.
Buy: CAPTURED BY A LAIRD
EXCERPT: THE GUARDIAN (The Return of the Highlanders #1) by Margaret Mallory
…There was something very familiar about this lovely, green-eyed lass, but Ian could not place her.
“Ian.” Alex jabbed him in the ribs.
Ian knew he should stop staring at her, but he couldn’t help himself. And why should he, when the lass was staring right back at him? He wondered vaguely if the man at her side was her husband—and hoped he wasn’t.
“Hmmph,” Alex grunted as he pushed past Ian. He strode across the room and greeted the young woman with a kiss on her cheek, as if he knew her well.
“Ach, you are a sight to behold,” Alex said, standing back and holding her hands. “If I were your husband, Sìleas, ye can be sure I wouldn’t have kept ye waiting a single day.”
Sìleas? Ian shook his head. Nay, this could not be. The young woman was nothing like the scrawny thirteen-year-old he remembered. Instead of gawky limbs and pointed elbows, she had graceful lines and rounded curves that made his throat go dry.
And yet…that was Sìleas’s up-turned nose. And he supposed that glorious mass of curling red hair could be hers, if it were brushed and combed—a state he’d never seen it in before.
“Welcome home,” the young woman said to Alex in the kind of throaty voice a man wanted to hear in the dark.
Sìleas never had one of those high-pitched little girl voices …but this beauty could not truly be her.
“Ye two must be hungry after your travels. Come, Sìleas, let us get these men fed,” his mother said, taking the lass by the arm. His mother gave him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder, the kind she used to give him when he was a lad and had committed some grievous error in front of company.
When he started to follow the two women to the table, Alex hauled him back. “Are ye an idiot?” Alex hissed in his face. “Ye didn’t even greet Sìleas. What’s the matter with ye?”
“Are ye sure that’s Sìleas?” Ian said, leaning to the side so he could see past Alex to the red-haired lass.
“Of course it is, ye fool,” Alex said. “Did ye no hear your mam just say her name?”
Ian had to tear his gaze away from her when Niall and the other man joined them. Now that he took a good look at the man, he saw it was their neighbor, Gòrdan Graumach MacDonald.
“Ian, Alex,” Gòrdan said, giving them each a curt nod.
Ian met the man’s stubborn hazel eyes. “Gòrdan.”
“You’ve been gone a long time,” Gòrdan said, sounding as though Ian could not be gone long enough to make him happy. “A good deal has changed here in your absence.”
“Has it now?” Ian said, knowing a challenge when he heard one. “Well, ye can expect it all to change again, now that I’m back.”
Gòrdan scowled at him before turning on his heel to join the women, who were busy setting food on the table on the other side of the room.
“Thank ye kindly for supper,” Gòrdan said to them.
“Ye are always welcome to join us. ’Tis small thanks for all you’ve done for us,” his mother said, beaming at Gòrdan. “’Twas kind of ye to take Sìleas out for a stroll today.”
What in the name of all the saints was his mother doing, thanking that conniving Gòrdan?
“If ye need me for…for anything at all,” Gòrdan said to Sìleas in a low voice, “ye know where to find me.” Gòrdan touched her arm as he spoke to her, and an unaccountable surge of anger rose in Ian’s chest, choking him.
If Sìleas answered, Ian didn’t hear it over the blood pounding in his ears. Just what was going on between Sìleas and Gòrdan Graumach MacDonald? He was about to help Gòrdan out the door when the man showed the good sense to leave.
“Ye won’t have far to look to find a man to replace ye,” Alex said in Ian’s ear. “That is what ye wanted, no?”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll let Gòrdan make a cuckold of me,” Ian ground out through his teeth.
Ian didn’t know whether to regret drinking so much whiskey—or to wish he had drunk a good deal more. After traveling half the world, he felt disoriented in his own home. Everyone had changed—his brother, his mother. And most of all, Sìleas. He still could not quite believe it was her.
“Come have some supper,” his mother said and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a steaming bowl. “I’ve got your favorite fish stew.”
Ian’s stomach rumbled as the savory smell reached him. He was near starved.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the back of Sìleas’s skirt disappearing up the stairs.
He stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth as it occurred to him he had the right to follow her up and take her to bed. Tonight. Right now. Before supper, if he wanted. And again, after. The part of him between his legs was giving him an emphatic “Aye!”
His reaction startled him. For five long years, he had planned to end the marriage as soon as he returned. He’d harbored not a single doubt. The only question had been how to do it with the least embarrassment to Sìleas—and the least difficulty for him.
But he made that plan before she turned into this enchanting lass with a voice that was like velvet sliding over his skin—and curves that would have him dreaming of her naked as soon as he closed his eyes.
Aye, he most definitely wanted to take Sìleas to bed. Any man would. The questi
on, however, was whether he wanted her to be the last woman he ever took to his bed. He wasn’t prepared to decide that tonight. Hell, he didn’t even know Sìleas anymore. Was the woman anything like the wild-haired bairn who used to follow him about and always need rescuing?
Ian knew he should say something to her. But what? He couldn’t tell her he was ready to be her husband and bind his life to hers forever. Though he had no idea what he would say, he got up from his chair, stomach rumbling, to follow her upstairs.
***
Sìleas ran up the stairs. She slammed the bedchamber door, leaned against it, and gulped in deep breaths. Damn him! She had wept for Ian MacDonald too many times over the last five years, and she was not going to do it again.
Her head pounded, her chest hurt, and she could not get enough air. She had lied to herself. Lied, when she told herself she had put her childish dreams away. Lied, when she said she’d ceased expecting Ian to want to share a life with her when he finally returned.
If she had given up her dreams, her heart would not be breaking from the loss of them now.
When Ian embraced his mother first, she understood. That was only right. And she hardly resented it at all when he greeted Niall next, for Niall had missed Ian almost as much as she had. But then, it was her turn. She fixed her gaze on the floor and held her breath, waiting. He was the one who left; he should come to her. In any case, her feet would not move.
Then the room went silent, and she felt his gaze on her. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked into the bluest eyes in the Highlands. Her fingers were ice, her palms sweaty, and her bodice felt too tight. For five years, she had waited for this moment.
She had imagined it a thousand times. Ian would give her a wide smile that warmed his eyes and pull her into his arms. He would tell her how much he missed her and how glad he was to be home. Then, in front of God and his family, he would call her “wife” and give her a kiss—her first real kiss.
In her more realistic moments, she thought it might be awkward between them at first, but that Ian would attempt to make it right and seek her forgiveness. Never did she imagine he would not speak to her.
Kidnapped by a Rogue, kindle Page 34