The Highland Laird's Bride

by Nicole Locke

  Her father. The fierce, reckless giant of a man, with his deeply ingrained anger and bitterness.

  ‘I didn’t try.’

  The words simply fell out of her. They were whispered softly, but they rang through the stables. She wanted to take them back. Hadn’t meant to say them. It was too personal...too painful. The second time her father had left with overwhelming anger, she hadn’t even wished him goodbye.

  Bram adjusted himself against the wall, but his silence was absolute. He now knew she hadn’t tried to stop her father. He understood how weak she was. ‘So, tell me more of your mother.’

  She wasn’t prepared for the change of subject. The tightness coiled inside her whipped loose. Bram hadn’t accused her of weakness, and there wasn’t pity in his eyes. There was only understanding...kindness.

  With her confession echoing in the stables, she appreciated talking of something else. ‘She liked to cook. I helped her.’

  ‘You spent time in the kitchens?’ he teased.

  ‘I did the menial jobs. My favourite was sitting on the back steps and plucking out thrush feathers. In fact, it was that which caused me to...’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I always wondered why I sought out Niall and Aindreas when my mother died and Irman came. I now know I must have known them already from my mother. Them giving the birds to us and us sitting on the steps together to pluck them.’

  ‘So it wasn’t out of desperation.’

  ‘Nae, I think it was...a happy memory.’

  He straightened, moving away from the wall. ‘It hasn’t been easy for us, Lioslath, but there could be happy memories for us, too.’

  Something skittered in her heart at his words and it wasn’t so she could deny him. The feeling fluttering in her heart felt something like...a wish. And it made her focus on what was before her. What she could see so clearly in Bram’s eyes.

  Hope. He was showing her hope. Could she dare take it again?

  ‘I know you want things differently,’ he said. ‘When you realise it, you’ll know you could have done nothing to prevent your father from going. That others couldn’t have stopped him either.’ He looked over her shoulder and outside the window to the near-empty courtyard. She’d seen him go to many windows over the past weeks. She knew that when he wanted to say something important, he looked outside to gather his thoughts. But he couldn’t get to the window now because a horse blocked the way.

  Still, he must have succeeded for he looked at her again. ‘I know you doona want to be separate any more. I know how you do care for your clan, who are as stubborn as you. I’ve seen how you look at your siblings and how you’ve been trying with them. They are also afraid, like you, but everything can be relearned.’

  ‘How am I to teach them something I doona know?’

  ‘See, this is why I won’t let go. You care, Lioslath, you care so much for them. You already know what you want to do.’

  She found she did, at least in part. ‘Fyfa. She just turned eight. I’d like to...celebrate that.’

  Bram’s full smile was swift now, blinding and all too knowing.

  ‘You’re good at this bartering you do,’ she said, feeling that familiar caution warning inside her again.

  His smile eased, but not the warmth in his eyes. ‘Nae, I come to you a beggar now, lass, with nothing to barter except a hope. I won’t let go of your hand and I can only hope you won’t let go of mine.’

  He was determined, relentless...dependable. Bram was telling her he was dependable.

  He showed her that. Never giving up when she barred the gates, or when the villagers shunned him. Not even when she purposely foiled his competition. He took her hunting and cared for her when she was injured. And he was here again, asking Gaira to help her understand the truth. At what point had Bram become...dependable?

  She looked away. Too soon. Too easy. Everything outside her pushing her to believe, everything inside her telling her she was mistaken. Experience had taught her never to trust. Bram couldn’t be dependable. He laughed all the time. He joked. He played tricks.

  ‘This won’t work. This...’ She waved at the space between them. ‘Whatever this is, how could you expect it to work? Just because you want it to, merely because you’re trying, doesn’t mean we can have a marriage in truth.’

  He huffed as if she jabbed him in the stomach. ‘Why do you think I’m trying?’

  ‘Because you’re Laird Colquhoun. Because—’

  ‘Lioslath,’ he said.

  That was all, but it was enough. The fact he was laird didn’t matter and he knew it. There was something more there behind his determination, his relentless bartering and controlling things.

  It echoed too painfully of the things her father had done. His relentless pursuits to remedy past mistakes propelling him to make more. She knew Bram had that same drive. He laughed, acted as if he was carefree. But he brought Gaira and Robert here. He talked about Malcolm and Dunbar, about Irvette. He might be able to forgive and laugh more easily than most, but he wasn’t carefree. She knew why he was relentless.

  ‘Because you doona want to be proved you’re wrong,’ she said.

  Bram took a step back, then another. It was enough so the shafts of light no longer illuminated him. He was in the shadows, but she already saw the emotion in his eyes he tried to hide.

  She still didn’t understand people. Didn’t know how to talk to them, bargain or play. But she was beginning to understand him. ‘’Tis the truth, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said.

  ‘So you’ll do anything, control anything...anybody, to avoid it.’

  She waited.

  ‘You’re right,’ Bram said. ‘When I came here, I didn’t want to be proved wrong. Couldn’t be. I made errors I needed to remedy. Coming here made everything right. I could help rebuild the Fergusson clan, hide from an English king and wait here for news of the jewel. It fit to be here. Everything fit, everything was right...except you.’

  She wanted to protest, but he gave a quick shake of his head. He was telling her now so she’d understand and she’d let him speak. Even though he was in the shadows, he wasn’t hiding from her now.

  ‘Everything I did with you was wrong because I tried to make you fit into what I thought you were and should be. But there was nothing wrong with you.’ He paused. ‘It’s your contrasts, you see. Your passionate need to help your clan and yet you doona know you’re being loyal. Your need to be close and yet the way you doona know how. Your hair is the colour of night and your eyes the colour of day. You’re a woman and yet you hunt with such deathly skill. You weren’t what I expected because you’re...perfect.’

  She couldn’t believe the words Bram gave her now. He wasn’t teasing and this wasn’t flirting. She was seeing the man underneath the laughter and play. He meant these words.

  ‘I doona like being proved wrong, I may never,’ he said. ‘I may always need to negotiate and to plan.

  ‘When I was young, my father hoped, some day, I’d be laird,’ Bram continued, his voice softer now. ‘So for one planting season, he let me make the decisions. I knew I’d be laird and let everyone know it. I wanted to prove myself.’ He breathed out harshly, as if the air had been trapped inside him. ‘To this day, I doona understand why they let me do it. Were they humouring me? Teaching me a lesson? Seeing what kind of laird I’d be?’

  She turned to face him. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Everything wrong happened. I didn’t listen. I only ordered and demanded. I was old enough, had seen enough plantings. I thought I knew everything.’ His eyes riveted on hers. ‘There wasn’t enough food that spring.’

  The Colquhouns always planned, always had enough stores. They’d been wealthy for generations, and yet, from his voice, she knew he spoke the truth.

  ‘There wasn’t enou
gh food, but only my family went hungry. My father gave the clan our stores. It was only my brothers and sisters whose stomachs were empty.’

  Bram shook his head as if dislodging memories and stepped out of the shadows.

  ‘Everything I did after that point was to ensure my family never went hungry and neither did my clan. I was determined that I would never be wrong again.’

  He took steps towards her until suddenly he knelt at her feet. ‘I’ve wronged you, Lioslath of Clan Fergusson. I took advantage of your clan’s desperate position. I took advantage of your father’s desire to better his people. I took advantage of my sister’s love for her family. Then I took advantage of you.

  ‘But worse, I cannot be truly sorry for any of it. If I had not done these things, I would not have known you.’

  His dark spiked lashes framed grey eyes that sheened like storm-filled seas. She was falling into his eyes, drowning in everything he was showing her. ‘Could you ever trust me?’

  So many wrongs had been done to the clan, and to her, but he admitted those wrongs. Gaira told her how Bram was changing. More important, she understood him now. Understood why he did what he did. He didn’t negotiate for something so shallow as a laird’s dominion and gain. He did it because he was still trying to remedy a mistake from his childhood.

  If he said he was listening, the least she could do was hear what he said. Crucially, she was understanding. But there was something more she had to do. To trust him, she had to hope again. Could she?

  Bram was kneeling at her feet, waiting patiently. He wasn’t demanding her trust. He was listening to her now, though she was quiet.

  That something skittered in her heart again. That wish, but it felt stronger this time. It had to be stronger because it withstood all she and Bram had been through.

  He wanted her trust again, but she knew better. ‘I haven’t given you any.’

  Bram stood, his hand taking hers and tightening with emotion. ‘Lass?’

  ‘Trust. Even when I willingly married you, I didn’t trust you.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ Bram said, a small smile at the corner of his lips. ‘I never gave you cause to. I know now I need to tell you everything, to bare myself to you. It’s why telling you wasn’t enough, why you needed to meet Gaira and Robert. Even though I could do nothing to protect you.’

  ‘You didn’t need to protect me from Gaira or Robert. I...understood. I understood almost immediately.’ He bared himself to her. ‘The moment I knew Gaira travelled here regardless of her pregnancy, I knew there was more to you than I wanted to see.’

  ‘What is it you do see?’ He helped her return to the stool and crouched before her.

  She saw Bram changing...for her. He was showing her he could be there for her and her clan. After everything, could she hope? The feeling fluttering constantly now inside her and his baring all to her told her the answer. She understood now.

  In the forest, Bram had said life wasn’t easy, but how one approached it could be. Bram had lost his mother, but his father hadn’t turned to bitterness as her father had done. She and Bram shared similar childhoods; they both experienced loss and yet—

  ‘It hasn’t been easy. Your life. Has it?’ She swallowed. ‘When I accused you of wanting only your comforts, of being demanding and greedy, I never knew of your childhood, of what had happened to Irvette, of what you must have faced, of what you are facing.’ She looked around, waved her hand. ‘Yet you laugh. You laugh though I make fun of your laughing.’

  ‘I vowed to find laughter again after that winter. My family never blamed me. I realised people can be forgiven and so I vowed that each day since would be made anew. I merely had to find a way.’

  He said people could be forgiven, but it was clear Bram hadn’t ever forgiven himself. Not truly. And with those few words, he told her so much more. About his love for his family, and theirs for him. About his determination and joy he found in life.

  ‘But you are wrong about my greed,’ he said. There was light, an ease in his eyes again. ‘I’ve always wanted more. Like now.’

  He was talking of wanting her. And she was beginning to believe she wanted him, too. They both suffered for and wanted to help their clans. But after all he had done to protect his family, how could he stay here?

  ‘What will you do with your clan?’ she asked.

  ‘I received a response from Caird accepting his position as laird.’ He made it sound easy. As if he hadn’t sacrificed most of his life for his family and clan. Yet he wrote those letters. He intended to stay.

  ‘And the king?’

  ‘I can’t avoid his missives forever. I will be replying soon.’

  ‘The jewel and Malcolm?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m staying here, with you.’

  ‘How can you say this?’

  ‘There’s so much more to say.’ He eased back on his heels. ‘I didn’t tell Malcolm why he couldn’t go to Dunbar. If I had, he wouldn’t have gone. Instead, he almost died. I had... I had almost lost him before when he was young. I tend to be protective of him, of all my family. But I regret. I grieve. And I can never forget that if I had told Malcolm the truth, he wouldn’t have a scar across half his body. He wouldn’t hurt.’

  Bram wasn’t only talking about Malcolm’s wound. Something worse hurt his brother now. Bram was telling her everything so she wouldn’t hurt. How could she not trust this man?

  ‘He’s in danger now.’

  ‘Aye, but he needs to set things right himself. More wrongs have been committed against him than simply my not telling him the truth. It’s a dangerous plan, avoiding kings and protecting legends, but a worthwhile one.’

  Such simple words outlined a dangerous and precarious future for her and her clan. ‘There’s a lot of work to be done here,’ she said.

  ‘With you by my side, I’ll hardly notice.’

  Diplomatic Colquhoun. ‘I won’t keep house, or make sure there’s nae stones in your bread.’

  ‘We’ll find a steward.’

  ‘I’ll never be genteel, or know how to talk to traders or kings.’

  ‘I doona want genteel or biddable. I doona want easy. I want contrasts and a woman who looks like night and day. And as far as those traders and kings? You’re so beautiful, you could smile and kingdoms would fall.’

  He was flirting again, even now. He changed, but not in this. ‘There won’t be time for all your...play.’

  ‘Ah, I won’t barter that. There’s always time for play.’ A small smile, an inner secret. He was so determined. His strength apparent in his very size, but there was a strength deeply imbedded inside him as well.

  ‘There’s time for love,’ he said. ‘I want your love, despite your knowing of Gaira, of Robert, of the jewel. Even though you know staying married to me is dangerous. People calling me a traitor will follow me, your family and this clan forever.’ His face was suddenly grave. ‘Lioslath, I won’t force you. Our marriage is nae final. There are reasons for you to walk away. You could have someone who doesn’t have dangers and treason. Someone who would be more—’

  ‘Dependable?’

  A curt nod.

  ‘Haven’t you proved that? After all the strife and obstacles upon your arriving here. After all the danger you and your clan faced and will continue to face. After the sacrifices you’ve made here. I’ve seen how your clan, how mine, look to you for leadership and hope.’

  Raw emotions flitted with light. Grey eyes told her he was listening.

  ‘I look to you for hope,’ she said. ‘I thought it lost and you keep revealing it to me. I doona need someone who is dependable all the time. I want someone who strives to be dependable. I have nae doubt that it’s you.’

  ‘Lass. Love. What are you telling me?’

  So much. Couldn’t this magnificent male see?
‘I’ve been listening to your words, your voice, Bram.’ She took his hand and clasped it with hers. ‘It’s time to use your hands and kisses.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘Aye?’ Bram whispered, as if he couldn’t believe it was that simple. As if it was her turn for tricks and jests.

  ‘Aye,’ Lioslath said, never releasing his hand as he swept her up and carried her across the empty courtyard. Along the way, she caressed her fingers against his palm, feeling his body tighten with each sweep of her fingertips. She didn’t let go when they entered her room and he set her down on a chair.

  Then she looked up and saw Bram’s uneven breaths, the way his throat worked as he swallowed, and as he carefully knelt before her again.

  He brushed his thumb against the back of her hand. ‘Lioslath, if you hold my hand much longer—’

  ‘You’ll be using it?’

  He gave a short nod. When his eyes turned to a storm, she could feel the lightning in them. That moment when the darkness of the sky clashed with the warm of the earth. How the very air prickled across her skin. Like now.

  His eyes darkened further, and she swore she could smell the onset of the storm. That clash of damp earth with the salt of the air. But she wasn’t prepared for how his scent, his heat, would affect her. She wasn’t prepared at all.

  ‘I want you to. I want you to use your hand.’ She grabbed the other one. ‘This one, too.’

  Lioslath was before him. Trusting him; trusting them. He showed her every black spot in his soul. Told her every wrong he ever committed and she wanted him to touch her. Love her.

  ‘You are my night and day, Lioslath.’

  Her brow suddenly furrowed, driving him crazy with want and need and love.

  ‘Night and day?’ she said. ‘Oh, because of my hair and eyes.’

  She remembered his previous words and he took heart at that. ‘Nae, because those are the times of day I want you.’

  ‘Are there other times of day?’

  Leaning in, he skimmed his lips and tongue around the shell of her ear. He loved the shape of her ear, the way his touch made her shiver. ‘Nae.’