Wicked Highland Heroes

by Tarah Scott

  Iain arrived and motioned them forward as he brought his horse up alongside hers again.

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  “Gypsies.”

  She cast another glance in the direction of the wagons. “Egyptians.” Suddenly aware the single word revealed her regret, she added as if in casual conversation, “I have heard of them. It is said they

  possess powers.”

  “The very myths that probably got them banished by King James three years ago.”

  Victoria frowned. “Banished? By what right?”

  “Banishment is the least of their troubles,” Iain replied. “Many simply put them to death.”

  “Sweet Jesu, why?”

  “For being, as you say, Egyptians.”

  She flushed at having used the slur. “They are just a people without a home.”

  “By choice.”

  “You condone the killing of them?”

  Iain reached for the water bottle strapped to the side of his horse. “Nay.” He took a long swig, then offered her the bottle. She took it, swallowed a few drops, and passed it back. “I harbor no ill will toward them,” he said. “So long as they abide by the law

  while on MacPherson land.”

  “You mean MacPherson law.”

  Iain met her gaze. “Aye, MacPherson law. Though you may think otherwise, MacPhersons are not a lawless clan.”

  Victoria pursed her lips. “Still, the Gypsies are allowed no defense, no hope of reprieve—no choice?”

  “Make no mistake,” Iain’s voice forced her gaze to him. “They have many choices. They know what to

  expect, yet choose to traverse this land.”

  Victoria opened her mouth to rebut, but realized she had no answer.

  * * *

  Victoria awoke to the sound of voices. Dazed by a strange darkness, a moment passed before she realized she no longer rode her horse, but was bundled in a blanket and sitting across familiar hard thighs. She tugged the tartan from her head. Cold air rushed across her cheeks and she instinctively leaned back into the solid warmth.

  She blinked at sconces blazing from high stone walls and dropped her gaze to find a sizable crowd staring at her. She straightened and scanned her surroundings. A small well sat in the middle of the compound. Dim lights flickered past a grove of trees, indicating a number of small cottages.

  Behind the cottages, a black mass jutted high into the darkened sky. She shifted her gaze left, and the sudden protrusion of the large stone castle confirmed they had reached their destination. A ripple of laughter drew her attention downward once more to find the crowd regarding her with curiosity. She stiffened. Iain looked down at her. He glanced at the group pressing closer, then back to her, understanding registering in his eyes. His focus shifted from her face and she followed his gaze to a man pushing his way forward.

  The man stopped beside their horse and regarded her. “What have we here?”

  “Take her,” Iain said, and Victoria found herself being handed down to the stranger.

  He grasped her waist and lowered her to the ground. Iain tossed his reins and saddlebag to a nearby man and dismounted. The stranger released Victoria and she stepped back. He clasped Iain’s arm just above his wristband, and the two men embraced then separated.

  “Cousin.” Iain smiled. “All has been well at

  Fauldun Castle?”

  “Aye,” he answered, a frown creasing his handsome face. “Better than they have with you, perhaps?” He motioned toward the Fraser warrior.

  Victoria shivered at the sight of the man being herded toward the castle at the point of Nathan’s sword.

  “We had a bit of trouble,” Iain replied.

  “Trouble or pleasure, mon ami?”

  Victoria blinked at hearing French come from the Highlander’s mouth. His attention swung onto her, and she recognized a twinkle of mischief in his green eyes. He’d read her surprise and clearly found it amusing. Who was this man?

  “Mostly trouble, I think.” Iain’s voice drew her attention back to him. “I would introduce you, but she will not tell me her name.”

  His cousin looked nonplused. “What?”

  “Laird.” A man gave Iain a hearty slap on the shoulder.

  Iain nodded at the man who moved back into the milling crowd, then looked back at his cousin. “I believe it is because I stole her when she had the good sense to step off the abbey grounds.”

  His cousin choked. “You what—stole her?” At

  Iain’s nod, his eyes widened. “I never dreamed—” His attention flicked to her, a corner of his mouth twitching. “I did not think you cared for holy ground.”

  “I do not.” The bemused look on Iain’s face faded. “But your religious sensibilities need not be ruffled. I did not desecrate the abbey. I waited until she stepped off the grounds.” He glanced at her, adding.

  “Patiently.”

  “What do you plan to do with her?”

  “Marry her.”

  Astonishment displaced his cousin’s amusement.

  “You are not serious?”

  “I am.”

  Both men looked at her, and the cousin said, “She does not look overwhelmed with the offer.”

  “She is warming to it.”

  “How do you plan on marrying someone who will not reveal her name?”

  “It will not matter,” Iain said. “I will call her wife, at least in public.”

  Her cheeks heated.

  “I would proceed with caution, mon ami,” Iain’s cousin replied. “I do not think you can take the vows without calling one another by name. How will the priest know what to put on the marriage certificate?” “Father Brennan will tell me her name.”

  “Not if I instruct him not to,” Victoria countered. Something warm pressed against her back, and she jumped before realizing it was only a woman brushing past.

  “She has a point,” the cousin said.

  Iain’s head snapped in his direction. “He will tell me.”

  “I do not know.” The cousin shook his head, and Victoria found the dark effect the comment had on her captor interesting. “I have never heard of a man marrying a woman whose name he did not know.” “I will know her name,” Iain growled.

  Victoria started when the green-eyed devil snapped his fingers. “I have it. Whoever guesses her name wins her hand in marriage.”

  “No one will be marrying her, save me,” Iain said.

  For the first time in four days, Victoria felt like laughing when the cousin’s expression turned to one of comical gravity.

  “We could have a contest,” he said.

  Iain’s attention focused on her, and she caught the covert wink his cousin gave her.

  Her pulse accelerated, but she gave a nonchalant shrug. “I believe it is as good a reason to wed as being stolen from a monastery. Still, I have an unusual name. If no one guesses it, I shall return home.” She pinned Iain with a stare. “Are you a gambling man, my lord?”

  “I am sure I could guess it,” the cousin said.

  Iain shot him a warning look, then said to her,

  “You are home, love.”

  She gave him a thin-lipped look. “Where am I to sleep?”

  He motioned toward the castle. “My chambers are there.”

  She gaped. “You cannot mean—that would be unseemly.”

  “Unseemly? We are not strangers. We have spent the last four nights together.”

  Victoria gasped. “It is not the same—Sweet Jesu. How can you shame me?”

  “What is the shame? You will be my wife. Now, go along to the castle. Maude will show you to my—” “I have not consented,” she snapped.

  He stepped close, towering over her, but she gave a determined shake of her head. His mouth thinned, but he looked up, his gaze rippling across the throng. Victoria took a wary step back as his attention fixed on someone. He grasped her hand and tugged her along, elbowing his way through the crowd until he halted in front of a young woman.

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nbsp; “Nellie, have Maude find suitable quarters for the lass.” He released her and turned away.

  The girl gave Victoria an assessing look, then shrugged and turned toward the castle. Victoria started after her, but found herself gripped from behind and swung into Iain’s arms. He planted a hard kiss on her mouth, then released her. She raised a hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist. He stared down at her for a long moment, a possessive fire burning in his eyes before he released her.

  Chapter Five

  Iain strode across the courtyard, headed for the comfort of his hearth.

  His cousin fell into step beside him. “An intriguing woman. I could not help but notice the fine brocade of her dress.”

  “What of it?”

  “Not so common for women in monasteries. You do not find it unusual?”

  “A woman in a monastery?”

  Thomas clasped his hands behind his back. “Was she taking the vows?”

  Iain scowled. “Even I would not have gone that far.”

  “She is unattached then?”

  “She has no husband.”

  “Hmm.” They reached the castle’s postern door and Thomas opened it, then stood aside.

  Iain entered. The aroma of wild boar met his senses, and he took in the welcome sight of the spit that hung over the fire at the far end of the room. A familiar bark echoed from the upper floor, and Iain swung his gaze upward. The paws and head of a hound appeared over the edge of the balcony.

  Iain whistled and the dog disappeared from view, then reappeared a moment later, lunging from the narrow staircase. The dog halted beside Iain, and he paused to scratch the animal behind the ears before heading for his seat at the head of the table. He moved his saddlebag from the chair to the table and lowered himself into the seat. The hound, giving a final sniff to Iain’s kilt, threw himself at his master’s feet. Iain motioned to a lad for ale.

  “She does not have a father then, or a brother?” Thomas asked.

  “Eh?” Iain removed his gaze from the dog. “Ah, the lass. Nay.”

  “Hmm.” Thomas seated himself in his usual place at Iain’s right. “She has no one who might object to your…” he trailed off.

  Iain frowned. “My what?”

  “Your abrupt courtship.”

  “She is a widow in a monastery. Who is to object?”

  The lad approached, ale in hand. Iain accepted the mug and took a sip. Settling the mug on his lap, he stretched out his feet, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the chair’s high back.

  “You did not ask?” Thomas persisted.

  “She said her husband was dead.”

  “Hmm…and her family?”

  Iain opened his eyes and studied Thomas. “Why the sudden interest in my personal life?”

  “Why the sudden interest in the lady?” “She is…unusual.”

  “You hardly know her. How can you be sure?” Iain sat upright and placed his mug on the table. He picked up the saddlebag, retrieved a book from inside, and handed it to Thomas.

  “Commentaries on Mathematical and Astronomical Topics, by Hypatia.” Thomas looked at him. “Where did you get this?”

  “She was reading it.”

  Thomas’s brows rose. “Interesting woman, indeed.” He thumbed through the book. “I wonder that Father Brennan might lament losing such a fine work.”

  Iain shook his head as Thomas handed the book back to him. “I do not recall seeing any copies while at university in Glasgow, nor am I aware of any existing in Scotland. It must belong to her.” He balanced the book on his knee and opened the cover. “Such a valuable work would likely be in a museum or a private library. I have never seen a complete work by Hypatia—excerpts, but never the complete book. Have you?”

  “Nay. She must come from an educated family to be able to comprehend the book. Most likely nobility.”

  Iain reached for his ale. “Aye,” he agreed before finishing it off.

  “I think I see now,” Thomas said in a thoughtful tone. “You saw her reading this and decided you must have the woman who possessed such a fine

  mind. Hmm.”

  “Would you quit saying that,” Iain rumbled.

  “What?”

  “Hmm. You sound like a damn physician about to advise I call a priest for the last rites.”

  “Ah, forgive me, mon ami. It is the French in me.

  You know we are very contemplative.”

  “What you are is very annoying.”

  “You must admit, it is rather remarkable,” Thomas said, openly ignoring his irritation. “I have never known you to be concerned with a woman's mind.” His head tilted in an exaggerated fashion. “Do you wish to study Hypatia’s commentaries? Is that why you took her?”

  “Do not be ridiculous. I had no idea what she was reading. Although, I was curious what held her attention. She was oblivious to our presence.”

  “Ahh,” Thomas said, as if all had become clear.

  “I am going tomorrow to pay a visit to our new allies,” Iain said. “I have something for them.”

  Thomas’s mood sobered. “Our friend out there.

  What happened?”

  “He kidnapped the lass.”

  “Mother of God. Did he harm her?”

  “They,” Iain corrected. “There were two of them, and I do not think so.”

  “You are not certain?”

  “Fairly certain,” Iain replied. “There was little time. Though it would not take much.” His jaw tightened, and he threw out a curt order for another ale. “They took…liberties.”

  A picture of the lass held like a rag doll by her would-be rapist jumped forward from where it hovered like a parasite on the edge of his mind. Once again, Iain considered keeping the bastard and watching him die a death that spanned several days.

  “Not a fine way to begin. She is well?” Thomas asked.

  “They gave her a scare,” Iain replied. “Skittish,” he added.

  “You killed the other?”

  “Aye, he was the one who had his hands on her at the time.”

  “How did you discover what was happening?”

  “She managed a cry for help.”

  Thomas leaned back in his chair and whistled through his teeth.

  “They would have had her if not for that,” Iain said.

  A yelp from the hound sleeping at his feet sounded when Hypatia’s Commentaries thudded to the floor. He recovered the book and set it on the table.

  “She survived, Cousin,” Thomas said.

  “But she made it clear I was at fault for taking her in the first place.”

  “That is natural.”

  Iain looked him in the eye. “Do you ever wonder if my father was right?”

  “About what?”

  “Perhaps there was more to the feud with the Frasers than just his hatred of Liam Fraser? Still, the killing went on too long. Thirty years too long.” Twelve years was all his mother had been able to endure before she died.

  “I believe most MacPhersons would agree,” Thomas said. “Mayhap even some Frasers, oui? It was a blood feud that should have stayed between the two men. A shame so many men died for one man’s jealousy.”

  “Even my father would have admitted to being a bastard,” Iain said. “I suppose Liam cannot be blamed for being suspicious of the truce.” Iain gave a harsh laugh. “Despite the years of restraint it took to get him to talk.”

  Thomas raised a brow.

  “All right,” Iain said with a wry lift of his mouth, “we were not wholly restrained, but we did not react to every strike from them.”

  Thomas nodded. “Their attacks did lessen with time.”

  Iain propped an elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed his chin with the back of his fingers. “Those Fraser bastards openly defied me.” He still couldn’t believe it. “The one will not make that mistake again, and the second will be an example to the rest.” Iain met Thomas’s gaze. “If Liam does not deal with his kinsmen, I will.”

  * * *
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  Victoria ignored the women gathered in the cottage doorway and centered her attention on the housekeeper.

  Maude paused in smoothing a blanket on the mattress she bent over and said, “You look as if you could use a hot meal and a bath.”

  Victoria angled her head in agreement.

  Maude straightened and scooted around to the other side of the bed. “Food first.” She pounded the

  pillow. “It will take longer to heat the bath water.”

  “Thank you, madam.”

  “Maude, lass. I told you, my name is Maude. Go on,” she ordered the gawkers, and Victoria nodded in polite response to the stares that were a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

  “We do not have too many visitors staying in the cottages,” Maude apologized as the last of her kinswomen turned away. “Ladies such as yourself are

  wanting the comfort of the castle.”

  “Nay.”

  Maude’s shrewd gaze swung onto her face, and Victoria realized she’d answered too quickly.

  The housekeeper gave the blanket a final tug at the corner, then straightened. “Fortunately, this cottage was empty. They do not stay vacant long, but no one had the heart to move in since Nathaniel died.”

  Victoria glanced at the bed that jutted from the opposite wall into the middle of the room.

  Maude laughed. “There was another bed yon.” She motioned to the farthest corner of the room. “His daughter slept in this bed. The other was burned. Dorothy was going to stay here, but some young lad took her off.”

  “Took her off?” Victoria blurted.

  Maude paused. “Is something wrong, lass?”

  “How much taking goes on here?”

  Maude gave her an odd look. “He married her.”

  “And she went willingly?”

  “Aye, and why not?”

  Victoria remarked softly, “Why not, indeed?”

  * * *

  After a light supper of pheasant, peas, bread, and wine, a bathtub as fine as any Victoria was accustomed to arrived. Maude instructed the girl Nellie to assist with the bath while she seated herself at the table located between bed and hearth. The housekeeper’s benign smile didn’t fool Victoria. Behind the woman’s soft manner beat the heart of a hunter.