Ian lifted his tankard. “To you, my dangerous friend, who needs a woman or two to lessen the boredom of his life.”
Aiden grunted and drank from his own cup. “It’s more than that. Although I appreciate the peace of this land, I do not govern over a village nor do I have many tenants to care for. My duties are few.”
“Aye, I can imagine. Even with the many duties of Moriag townspeople and the keep, ’tis not the same as our life used to be.” Ian looked to him. “Perhaps you should consider growing your lands, supplementing plots for farmers.”
“It’s an idea.” Aiden doubted that would be enough to keep him busy though.
Across from him, on the other side of the inn’s room, sat a woman dressed in deep blue. Her midnight tresses caught the light from the lanterns, giving them a soft glow. She sat erect, not eating. Her regal stance made her social stature obvious. Yet at the same time, there was a vulnerability about her that made him look to her every so often. Her dark eyes met his not for the first time and he lifted a brow in response. Her eyes widened slightly and she looked away. The beauty looked past him to the doorway and he wondered what waited for her once she and her companion left.
At her table, across from her, sat a robust man who laughed too loudly and continuously lifted his tankard for a refill. The man’s meaty hand pushed her cup closer. “Drink up, Breena, tonight we have much to celebrate.”
He noted her hand shook when she reached for the cup. Her gaze slid across the room without stopping as if searching for an escape.
She was a rare beauty. By the glances from all the men in the room, she did not go unnoticed. With light olive skin, almond-shaped, brown eyes and a slight lift to her upper lip, she was exotically appealing. The beauty was not slight, but tall with a long, graceful neck. Both she and her companion were dressed in expensive fabrics that cost plenty of coin to acquire. Her gown’s long sleeves were decorated with lace and brilliant jewels hung from her ears and neck. Aiden felt bad for her as women like her rarely had a choice in the men they wed. He wondered if she had just married the man who accompanied her. A pity.
Although she held her head high and shoulders straight, there was something about her that made him look to her again and again. She called to a part of him he thought long ago dormant.
None of his business. Aiden stood from the table. “Need to take a piss.” He exited the inn and rounded the corner to relieve himself.
He unfastened his britches and released his cock just as he heard footsteps approach.
“I need your help, please.” The woman touched his back. “Can you help me? I must escape.”
It was dark and he couldn’t see her face clearly, but he knew instinctively it was the woman he’d just admired in the inn. Even with a full moon bright, its light could not penetrate the space where they stood. “A bit busy right now.”
She lifted her skirts and stood aside, waiting until he finished. A new experience for him, a woman standing by while he pissed. Especially a finely dressed one.
A lady.
He fastened his britches and closed the distance between them. Her delicate fragrance tickled his nose, enticing him. “What happens, lady?”
“I—I…” She looked toward the front of the inn. “I am brought here by force. The man with me. He is not a good man. Please, help me escape.” A tear slid down her cheek and she grabbed for his hand. “We must hurry. They will come after me.”
Aiden looked around. There was only one way to leave, to the front of the alleyway where they were sure to be seen. Still, he rushed toward it only to stop when two men appeared and blocked the exit. He pushed the woman behind him and shielded her with his body.
He swayed a bit and let out a frustrated breath. He’d had too many tankards of ale to even consider that he could fight off the men. If he were completely honest, one opponent could prove a feat for him on this night. “Allow me to escort the lady back inside.” He looked to each man, not recognizing them. “She is not feeling well.”
“Our laird will ensure she is well cared for.” One moved toward him. “Allow her to pass.”
“Who is your laird?” Aiden challenged when the woman leaned against his back, trembling. Not exactly a time to have her body against his. Especially since he’d not been with a woman in so long. He fought the urge to reach for her. “Not from these lands, I presume?”
“Laird Robertson is on his way to visit the McNeil.”
“Liam McNeil is a good friend of mine. As I said, I will accompany the lady inside and speak to your laird.”
When they parted, he took the woman’s elbow and pulled her alongside and walked back inside the inn. The guardsmen followed on his heels to ensure he did, indeed, make his way to their laird.
When he entered, Laird Robertson met them at the door. His shrewd eyes moved from Aiden to the woman, who shrunk back into him.
“The lady is not feeling well,” Aiden told the man who grabbed the woman’s upper arm and yanked her forward.
“Is that so?” He ignored Aiden, his attention on her. “What happens to you now, Breena?”
“I felt faint. My stomach churns. I am going to be sick.” She met the man’s gaze without expression, daring him to not believe her.
“I grow tired of your difficulties.” Robertson’s hand dug into her arm.
“Not as tired as I. Let us go.” She yanked her arm from his grasp and pushed past Aiden. They followed her outside while Aiden watched.
Aiden remained at the doorway and observed. A maid came forward immediately and assisted her into the carriage. Just before the door closed, the woman looked toward the inn, her eyes locking with his. The sadness in them took him by surprise. If he could have helped her, he would have.
Had he made a mistake by allowing her to leave? What if the woman was in danger? The only way to find out was to visit the McNeil. He’d have to come up with a good excuse and go to the McNeil keep early in the morning.
“What was that about?” Ian asked when he sat.
Aiden motioned to a bar wench who leaned over him to pour his ale, her breasts practically spilling over the top of her bodice. She smelled of sweat and dirt and Aiden looked away. “She asked me for help,” he replied. “Quite strange.”
“Help?” Ian straightened. “Did you?”
“No, I don’t believe so. She claimed the loud man she was with took her against her will. The guardsmen told me they go to visit the McNeil. I plan to go there on the morrow to ensure all is well.”
“A reluctant bride, I bet.” Ian looked past the bar wench to the door, his face softened. “Ah, there is a perfect distraction for you.”
Two women entered, similar in look with long braids down their backs. He knew them to be a local farmer’s daughters who often entertained Ian and Dugan, another of Gordon’s guardsmen. At least his night would not be wasted. The women would see that he and Ian were well taken care of.
“Good night, good sir.” One of the women sat on his lap. “I find myself parched for a drink.”
The innkeeper’s wife glared at the women who ignored her. Aiden motioned the now pouting bar wench forward. “We must take care of it at once.”
Later in his keep, Aiden paced the great room. He could not stop wondering of the beautiful woman’s fate. A guard appeared and Aiden handed him a missive. “Please take this to the McNeil. I will visit in the morn.”
The guard left and, yet, he continued to feel restless. While the farmer’s daughter back at the inn had sucked his cock, he’d pictured the dark-haired beauty the entire time. What did she do now? Was she safe?
He walked outside into the night air to clear his thoughts and looked to the star-filled sky.
Tomorrow he’d seek the beauty again. If she asked for his help, this time he would not turn her down.
Chapter Two
Breena McGalen held back the urge to throw up. Although it would serve the blowhard right, she didn’t want to ruin her new dress. “Please stop the carriage. I am goi
ng to be ill.”
She dove out the door as soon as the carriage stopped and bent over. She threw up for a long time while her maid, Ita, held her and soothed her. “You will be right as soon as we get ye in the bed to rest, milady.”
There would be no rest for her. The hand fast ceremony was completed between her and Robertson. She was to marry him in a fortnight unless he sent her back to her clan and he’d already confessed time and again he’d never release her. The thought of lying with the huge, distasteful man sent her to dry heave.
“Enough!” he called from the carriage. “We will be on our way. If you get sick again, do so into your particle.”
“My laird, my lady requires to lie down.” Poor Ita dared to speak up for her once they were in the carriage again.
The maid cringed when Robertson leaned forward, his face mere inches from the hapless woman’s. “She will sleep when I allow it.” His hard eyes moved to her. “Ensure you present yourself well before the McNeil.” His lips curved into a cruel smile when he grabbed Ita by the forearms and pulled her into his lap, his hand delving between her legs. The maid’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. He growled, “You will ensure she is settled and then come and warm my bed.” His other hand crushed the maid’s breast. He continued to fondle her until Ita’s breathing hitched.
Breena looked away, disgusted at the display, while at the same time feeling horrible for Ita who was now moaning.
“Come to my bed tonight.” Robertson’s hoarse words made Breena’s already tender stomach lurch and she pressed a hand to her mouth.
Ita flopped forward when he shoved her back to sit next to Breena. “Yes, my laird.”
The poor girl had lived with Robertson for years. Unlike Breena, who’d arrived just the day before they left for the Highlands. Breena felt ashamed at planning her escape without Ita earlier. When escaping, she’d do her best to bring the maid with her.
Finally, they came to a stop. She heard men’s voices as the guards announced the Robertson’s visit. Men peered into the window and, before long, the carriage moved forward into the McNeil’s keep.
It was too dark to see clearly the size of the enclosed courtyard, but it seemed quite large. Breena climbed down and faced her new hosts.
The McNeil was a nice looking man. He looked to be in his forties by the graying at his temples, with kind, blue eyes and a bit taller than Robertson. Next to him stood an attractive woman who had to be his wife and a beautiful, young, blonde girl. The women studied her in return, but remained silent, waiting for the men to speak first.
The McNeil grasped Robertson’s hand and smiled. “It has been a long time, Robertson. Your missive announcing your visit was surprising but, of course, welcomed news.”
By the look on the women’s faces, they did not agree with their laird’s pronouncement. Both looked to each other and then to her. She saw pity in their eyes. It was hard to keep her head high, but she managed to. “Lady Breena McGalen.” When Robertson introduced her to the laird, she curtsied low, bending her head forward.
The laird’s warm gaze met hers. “I’ve not heard the name McGalen before. Welcome to our home, Lady McGalen.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I am from the border with Ireland, perhaps that is why.”
The laird motioned the women forward. “May I present my wife, Grisella, and my daughter, Elsbeth.” The women lowered, both bending their heads just enough. Obviously, they did not hold Robertson in high regard by the lack of warmth in their expressions upon straightening.
Breena, at once, felt kinship with them and she went to stand next to them. Elsbeth took her hand and pulled Breena toward a doorway. “Come, let us have tea. You look pale.”
She was more than happy to oblige. Lady Grisella came to her other side. “We have prepared a bedchamber for you and your maid. I am not sure of the nature of your relationship with Laird Robertson, so I did not put you in adjoining chambers.”
Her knees shook with relief. “I am eternally grateful to you.” She gasped at the outburst. “What I mean to say is that it is perfect. We are just hand fasted two days ago and I am not used to his presence yet.”
“I see.” Lady Grisella looked over her shoulder to verify no one heard. “So your family agreed to the match?”
Breena lowered her voice. “My father and he made the arrangement. I am not aware of the particulars, only that I am to marry him. I managed to convince my father into a hand fast first. I am not sure what I will do, but I will find a way to get away from him.”
“Now, now. It cannot be so bad,” Grisella said with a neutral expression. “Once you bare his children, they will take all of your attention and, perhaps, he will become distracted, as well.”
The words made her want to cry. They would not help her. Not that she blamed them. They didn’t know her. Probably thought her petulant and spoiled.
In a small room beside the great room, they were able to drink tea and keep an eye on the men who sat around a long table and talked. The more ale Robertson drank, the more boisterous he became. Breena hoped that after consuming ale at the inn and more now, he’d pass out and close his mouth.
She was astounded at how the people there favored their laird. The McNeil walked about the room, not sitting at the high board but, instead, settling next to his men while conversing.
On the contrary, Robertson remained at the high board, looking down at the other laird while calling out responses. She was embarrassed to be with him.
“This is so different than my clan,” Breena said to the women. “In my home, laughter is rare. Most of the townsfolk stay away.”
Grisella nodded. “Aye, my childhood home as well was cold. I believe it depends on the laird. The McNeil is a fair and caring man. This is also a peaceful land. It is rare there are any problems between the neighboring clans. I am very fortunate to have caught Liam’s attention.”
The woman looked to her husband with a soft smile and Breena recognized love. “Aye, you are.”
Upon noticing her regard, Elsbeth leaned forward to take Breena’s hand. “I am so sorry about your situation. I wish it were different for your sake.”
Breena did not want to dwell on her circumstances. “What of you, Elsbeth. Are you spoken for?”
“Not yet.” The young woman shrugged. “My da is always seeking someone, but my luck has been rather…lacking.”
Grisella laughed. “My daughter is quite a spitfire. It will be a very patient man who will take responsibility for her.”
“I will not marry a simpleton who drools over his ale,” Elsbeth said and gasped, realizing she’d just described Robertson.
In spite of the blunder, which made Grisella give her daughter a stern look, Breena giggled. “Aye, I can understand that.”
The women laughed until the men looked to them.
Later that evening, Ita informed her while helping her undress, “The laird is asleep. He’s snoring like a boar.” The maid did not measure her words and Breena could not find the energy to correct her.
She slid between the bed coverings, her eyes already drooping from exhaustion. The McNeil women, although endearing, would not help her get away from Robertson. The man at the inn had not helped her, but he seemed to be concerned for her welfare.
Why could she not be hand fasted to someone like him? He was a handsome one. Tall with a fine physique. His burnished hair fell to his wide shoulders and those eyes, piercing. As if he could see straight into a person’s soul.
It had taken her a moment to realize the colors of his eyes did not match. One was a bright clear green, the other closer to amber. Somehow, in those few brief moments when he’d shielded her with his large body, protecting her from the advancing guards, she’d felt more secure than ever in her entire life. A man like him would not only protect his woman, but also ensure her well-being, putting her above others. Something Robertson would never do. The boar of a man cared only for himself. He was cruel to others, finding glee in the pain he caused.
Before she lay with him, she’d either escape or kill herself.
Chapter Three
The loud booms on his door jerked Aiden awake. Two of his guardsmen stormed into the chamber. “Laird, the village is under attack.” Their chests rose and lowered with their heavy breathing. “Four of our men have gone to see about helping. I believe the other laird’s guards have been dispatched as well.”
Moriag had been dormant too long. Although he knew his neighbor’s guards trained daily to remain in fighting form. Yet, they’d become too comfortable. Peace could only last as long as they could defend themselves against attacks and ensure any marauders understood Moriag was not without protection.
His steed’s hooves pounded the ground as he and the two guardsmen rode hard toward the village. The eerie glow of the flames from burning buildings forced them faster.
When they arrived, the guardsmen were busy putting fires out. There were no attackers anywhere. He went to where Declan Gordon stood talking to Ian.
“What happened?”
“They attacked and left. Almost as if they didn’t want to be confronted. Four people are dead and many injured. They say it was a band of about five and twenty men.”
“We have more than that combined,” Aiden responded. “Even without the McNeil and Campbell.”
Ian kicked at a stone and watched men carry an injured person across the courtyard to where the wounded were being cared for. “I say we rush after them and attack. Why do we stand here and do nothing?”
The McNeil arrived on horseback with several guardsmen. “Because we are smarter than that. We must convene together and plan.”
The Gordon nodded. “Let’s split into two groups and go after them. They went north from what the villagers say.”
The lairds split into groups of ten and twenty men and rode out, leaving a small group behind to keep the village safe. Aiden hated to admit the possibility of battle made the blood course through his veins faster, giving him energy he’d not felt in the years since he’d come to Moriag to oversee his inheritance.
Enticed by the Highlander: The Moriag Series Page 16