Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03]

by To Wed a Wicked Highlander

  Anger lit Colin’s eyes and he replied sharply, “Are ye able to care for her?”

  Mary nodded.

  He took off as though his arse was afire. He was furious and his thoughts raced dangerously. His father had gone too far. His own daughter. Colin’s sister! He remembered Sybella long ago as an innocent lass and how she used to spy on him. And then he pictured her now. His breath came raggedly in impotent anger. God help the person who stood in his way. Several thoughts came to mind, but only one rose above all others. It was time that Colin made his own choices—for better or worse. He was no longer his father’s pawn. And neither was Sybella.

  He spotted his father as soon as he entered the bailey. Barely giving himself enough time to recognize over the score of MacDonell men that had arrived, Colin drew his sword. When he heard his father’s words, there was no turning back. It was about time he stood as a man and protected his family.

  “I want the stone. Give me the stone and I will give ye Sybella,” said his father. His father turned and his eyes widened. He looked down to find a sword in the middle of his gut being pulled out by his only son.

  “Ceusda-chrann ort. An diobhail toirt leis thu.” The agony of the cross upon you. The devil take you.

  His father fell to the ground with a thump.

  Colin bent over, catching his breath. He was so furious that blood pounded in his brain. He could barely think, anger consuming him. His sire definitely had an easier fate bestowed upon him than the one Colin would’ve given him had he had ample time. Colin lifted his eyes to find the MacDonell watching him.

  “I am nae like my father, and if ye give Sybella a chance, ye will find she isnae like him either. She loves ye.”

  “Where is my wife?”

  ***

  Sybella sat in the tub as Mary and the maids bathed her—twice. “Ye should have left me.”

  Mary rinsed Sybella’s hair. “I donna want to hear ye say that again.”

  “Do ye think that Colin will be all right after…”

  “Aye. I donna think Colin had much of a choice. Your father…lost his way. I want ye to think about yourself now. Colin did what was necessary and he will be a fine laird.”

  “I love him, Mary.” Sybella closed her eyes as tears fell down her cheeks. “For as much as I jested with ye about Angus, I now see. I was such a fool for throwing it all away.”

  Mary gestured for the maids to depart and she handed Sybella a drying cloth. Looking over Sybella’s shoulder, Mary smiled. “Mayhap ’tisnae too late.”

  Sybella pulled her nightrail over her head. “Ye didnae hear his words, Mary. Ye didnae see the look in his eyes. He hates me.” She closed her eyes, placing her hand across her brow. “What have I done?”

  “Mayhap ye made your husband realize what a dolt he can be.”

  Her eyes shot up in surprise.

  Alexander smiled with compassion and opened his arms. Mary quickly departed as Sybella ran into her husband’s embrace. “Alexander, I am so sorry! I love ye with all my heart. I donna want to lose ye. My heart truly breaks.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  He looked down at her, wiping away her tears with his thumb. “Ella, I was such a fool. Can ye ever forgive me? I didnae mean the words that flew carelessly from my lips. And ye were right. I was too blinded to see what was before my verra eyes. Tha gaol agam ort.” I love you. “I want ye to come home where ye belong, by my side.”

  She placed her head against his broad chest and held him tight. “Then ye must believe me that I donna have the stone. I—”

  He pulled back and touched his finger to her lips. “Shhh…I know. Donna worry about it. ’Tis over.” He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “Colin told me what your father did to ye. Please tell me ye are well.” He ran his hands up and down her arms.

  “It was terrible, Alex, but I was more frightened at the thought of losing ye.”

  He paused and pulled her close. “That will nae happen, lass. From this day forward, I promise ye that. Please promise me there will be nay more lies between us.”

  “Aye.”

  “Then if we are being truthful, there has been something I have been meaning to tell ye.”

  She pulled back and her expression was puzzled. “What?”

  “I loved ye from the first time I saw ye at the waterfall, Lady Sybella MacKenzie of Kintail. Ye plagued my thoughts for years and I always wondered what became of ye. Ye are the bonny lass that filled my dreams.” He smiled and gave her a roguish grin. “And your lips taste of sweetened honey. In fact, I will tell ye a secret. I’d really like to taste them now.”

  He lowered his head and she licked her lips.

  “Alex, ye are so verra wicked.”

  Epilogue

  Sybella sat at the table on the dais in the great hall surrounded by MacDonells and MacKenzies, and her smile broadened in approval. Men and women laughed as if they had not a care in the world. For the first time since she could remember, she was blissfully happy, fully alive. She no longer felt the burdensome chains of betrayal.

  It was good to be home.

  She couldn’t believe a sennight had already passed since the death of her father. And this jovial mood was exactly what the clans needed. The dreaded nightmare was over and it was finally time to heal old wounds. A little voice pulled her from her woolgathering.

  “Come on, Lachlann, ye can do it,” said Anabel. She held out her arms as Lachlann took unsteady steps into her embrace. “Ye did it!”

  Rosalia smiled. “He has taken a fancy to ye, Anabel.”

  Anabel stood tall, proud. “I think I get along better with the wee lads than with my brothers.”

  Colin rubbed the top of her head. “Your brothers may jest with ye now and again, Anabel, but they will always look after ye and love ye.” He turned to Sybella and they shared a smile.

  A warm hand came down on Sybella’s shoulder and she reached up to grab it.

  “Aunt Iseabail is in the garden with William. Should I be worried?” asked Alex, sitting down beside Sybella.

  “Nay, I have a feeling William would ne’er let anything happen to her.”

  “I suppose ye’re right.” Laughter filled the hall and Alex took a drink from his tankard. “My men are glad to be home from Lewis.”

  “’Tis quite obvious. And ye really think things with the MacLeod will settle down now?”

  “Now that Colin is laird and we have withdrawn our men, we shall see. With His Majesty’s men arriving on the isle, there isnae much the MacLeod could do now anyway.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Come now, Ella. I told ye that I donna want ye worrying about such things.”

  “How can I be worried when I have such a strong and handsome protector?”

  Alex lifted his brow, and as he was about to speak, Ennis approached the dais. “Thank ye for inviting us to the celebration. Anabel loves seeing ye, my lady.”

  “I wish I could see her more often. Ye know how much I simply adore her. At times, I wished we lived closer to Kintail.”

  “That doesnae mean we cannae come to pay ye a visit.” A mischievous look came into Ennis’s eyes and he lowered his voice. “Besides, I donna think ye will have the time, Lady Sybella. Ye will soon have your own bairn to raise.”

  Sybella’s mouth dropped and Alex sat forward. “What? What did ye say?”

  “Aye, Laird MacDonell, your wife is with child.”

  She stammered in confusion. “Are ye for certain? I thought ye couldnae see without the stone.”

  A sheepish smile crossed Ennis’s face. “That’s what I told your father, lass. I was aware of what he did to the MacLeod’s women and children, and knowing that, I could nay longer aid him in his endeavors. I ne’er wanted blood on my hands. I only tried to help our clan.” Alex was about to speak when Ennis looked him in the eye. “Aye,
ye have your heir. He is a healthy lad.”

  Sybella didn’t even realize Ennis had walked away when Alex pulled her to her feet. He lifted his hand to her cheek and held her close. “Ye have made me the happiest man alive, and nae only because ye carry my son. “Tha gaol agam ort, Ella.” I love you. His eyes were tender, compassionate.

  She placed his hand to her stomach and laced her fingers with his. “Alex, I love ye with all my heart. And I’ll need ye now more than ever.” She laughed in sheer joy. When he raised his brow, puzzled, she rolled her eyes and added, “Ye heard Ennis. A lad. Just what I need. Another bad boy of the Highlands.”

  Here’s a sneak peek at

  My Highland Spy

  by Victoria Roberts

  Highlands, Scotland, 1609

  “She’s here.”

  “Damn.”

  “Aye, well ’tis too late to turn her away now, Ruairi. What did ye expect? How long did ye think ye’d be able to hold King James at bay? Ye havenae shown your face in Edinburgh and didnae send Torquil…”

  Laird Ruairi Sutherland thundered his way to the great hall and didn’t bother to let the captain of his guard finish his response. Why would he? Fagan clearly knew how Ruairi felt about His Majesty and the man’s ridiculous commands. As if he would send his only son to the Lowlands to learn the King’s English. King James had no respect for Scotland or its people. And Ruairi would be damned if he’d give in so easily without a fight.

  He entered the great hall and walked toward the English lass. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight, unflattering bun. Her face was austere, her manner haughty. The woman held herself as if she graced him with her presence. He didn’t like her at all.

  “A bheil Gàidhlig agad?” Do you speak Gaelic?

  The woman merely stood there, mute.

  He looked at Fagan and smirked. Turning back toward the woman, Ruairi’s eyes darkened. “Thalla dachaigh.” Go home.

  “Just place the trunk right there. Thank you.”

  Ruairi’s eyes widened in surprise as another woman entered the great hall. Her smooth ivory skin glowed and the corners of her mouth turned slightly upward. She had a wealth of red hair, loose tendrils that softened her face, and her lips were full and rounded over even teeth. She seemed elegant and graceful. And for the first time since he could remember, he had no words to express the sight before his eyes. The woman was simply…beautiful. Who was this lass?

  She lifted her skirts and walked over to him, greeting him with a warm smile. “I see you’ve met my driver’s wife, Mary. You must be Laird Sutherland. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Mistress Denny.”

  Carried away by his own response, Ruairi failed to notice the woman waited for him to answer. In fact, he had one hell of a time trying to suppress his admiration. When her cheeks reddened under the heat of his gaze, he cleared his throat and nodded at Fagan.

  “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye. I am Fagan, the captain of Laird Sutherland’s guard.” The lass looked puzzled, and then Fagan added, “My laird doesnae speak English.”

  Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “I see…And what of Lady Sutherland?”

  Fagan paused. “Lady Sutherland has passed away.”

  Ruairi eventually came to his senses when the pounding of his heart finally quieted. Although the woman was here to educate his son, Ruairi didn’t need to learn the ways of the English. He was a grown man. He had survived twenty-nine years on earth without the help of those bloody English bastards. And besides, the lass was now in the Highlands, his beloved lands, which were a far cry from the English border. As far as he was concerned, she could keep her ways to herself. He was bound and determined not to make this easy for her—as if he would roll over like a good dog because his liege demanded obedience. As soon as King James gave the Highland lairds the respect they deserved, perhaps he would feel differently. But for now, Ruairi certainly wasn’t going to tell the lass that he understood every word she spoke, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to mention the fact that his wife had died—nearly two years ago.

  ***

  With all her might, Ravenna held back a groan. She’d traveled all the way from London to the bloody Highlands only to find out the laird didn’t speak a word of English. How would she be able to figure out if the man conspired against the Crown if she didn’t understand a word of Gaelic? Praise the saints. The man couldn’t even communicate with her. This was nothing short of a disaster. She was stuck in the Highlands with a widowed laird and his son. She didn’t like this at all.

  Trying to compose herself, she gave Laird Sutherland a sympathetic smile for the loss of his wife. She stretched her neck to look up at him because the top of her head only reached the middle of the massive man’s chest. His green eyes continued to study her intently. His brown hair had traces of red and was fairly straight. Somehow she knew that she would never forget a single detail of his face. When their eyes locked, her breath hitched in her lungs and her heart turned over in response. Her gaze roamed to his powerful set of shoulders and he stood there like he didn’t give a damn about her or what she thought of him.

  She heard herself swallow and she cleared her throat. “You have my sincere condolences on the loss of your wife.”

  When he raised his brow, Fagan spoke, and she presumed the man translated her words. The laird must have understood because he nodded in response and then left without as much as a backward glance.

  “Your trunk will be carried up to your chambers,” said Fagan. “Ye must be weary from your journey. I will escort ye to your room and leave ye to rest.” He was about to walk away when Ravenna spoke.

  “Might I at least meet Torquil?”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ye arenae weary?”

  “Captain, I’ve come all of this way. I’d like to meet the boy.”

  The man was just as big and imposing as Laird Sutherland. His dark hair hung well below his shoulders, but he had a kind, almost tender, smile. “Fagan, if ye will.”

  Ravenna nodded in response.

  “I am nae sure where the lad is at the moment, but I will be sure to introduce ye when he returns.”

  “Very well. I suppose I will unpack my trunk.”

  ***

  Ruairi took his seat at the table and felt the lass’s eyes upon him, judging him. The woman probably thought he was some kind of barbarian, as all those pampered English bastards thought of his kind. He wasn’t thrilled to have her here, but the sooner Torquil took to his lessons, the faster the lass would be back in her own country and not underfoot.

  When the conversation drew quiet, a very small part of him felt a little guilty for deceiving her. He should probably work with her to help Torquil so that she could be on her way home. After all, she was only a woman and basically doing as she was told. And Ruairi liked the lasses—not necessarily English lasses—but lasses nonetheless. And this particular woman was not so sore to the eyes.

  He gave her a brief nod. “Ciamar a tha sibh?”

  “He asks how ye are,” said Fagan.

  She sat forward and took a drink from her tankard. “Tell me. How do I answer him that I am fine?”

  While Fagan instructed Mistress Denny, Ruairi sat and listened, somewhat surprised the lass had wanted to answer him in his native tongue. After several botched attempts, she turned and gazed at Ruairi with an intense look upon her face.

  “Tha gu math.” I am fine.

  Torquil clapped and his eyes lit up upon his governess’ efforts to speak Gaelic. Ruairi hadn’t seen that look on his son’s face in quite some time. The boy was only six when his mother had died, and Ruairi knew his son missed her.

  “She would like a tour of your home. Will she teach Torquil in the library?” asked Fagan in Gaelic.

  “Aye. I will take her after we sup.”

  Fagan’s eyes grew openly amused. “Must I come
along to translate?”

  “I think I can manage,” he said, annoyed.

  Fagan smiled at the lass. “My laird will escort ye and show ye his home after we sup.”

  Ruairi didn’t like the way her face lit up when Fagan spoke to her. The woman clearly didn’t know that the captain of his guard was only doing what he was told to do. He wondered if she’d still smile at Fagan that way if she knew the man only followed Ruairi’s command.

  “That would be delightf—”

  “Ravenna, I want to come too,” said Torquil in Gaelic.

  Ruairi’s brow rose when he heard Mistress Denny’s Christian name spoken from his son’s lips. “Torquil…”

  Her gaze became puzzled at the sight of Ruairi’s displeasure, and the lass placed her hand over her heart. She leaned forward in the chair. “Fagan, is the laird upset because Torquil called me Ravenna?”

  “Aye.”

  “Please tell Laird Sutherland that I asked Torquil to call me by my given name because it was much easier on his tongue. It was difficult for the boy to say ‘Mistress Denny.’ And if it suits the two of you, you may both call me Ravenna as well.”

  Fagan turned up his smile a notch. “Ravenna…A verra bonny name for a verra bonny lass. The name suits ye.”

  Ruairi scowled. What the hell did Fagan think he was doing? Was he actually trying to woo the lass? God’s teeth! The chit was English, a sworn enemy. Ruairi was aware that he probably shouldn’t have been so aloof toward her. After all, she would report back to His Majesty. When he gave his captain another dark look, Fagan only lifted a brow and then had the audacity to smirk. The man would pay for that one later.

  For the remainder of the meal, Ruairi sat and listened while the woman laughed at all of Fagan’s jesting, sent smiles…at Fagan, and asked questions about Ruairi’s home…to Fagan. Clearly, Ruairi couldn’t answer, his only option to sit mute. Perhaps this wasn’t one of his most brilliant ideas. Mistress Denny must think him daft. He took another drink from his tankard and tried to think of all the ways to kill the captain of his guard.