Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle

by Victoria Vane

  Battling his waning restraint, he spoke between clenched teeth. “I’ll send a messenger ahead and see that you’re taken home as soon as the storm breaks and the pass is safe to travel.”

  The statement gained her full attention, jerking her gaze to his. “But, what of my family?”

  Aye, he wondered the same. How long before MacGregor darkened his doorstep? They’d not parted on the best of terms the last time. Somehow, Aaron suspected the man would not take kindly to fetching his sister from the enemy in a snowstorm.

  “’Tis too dangerous to risk travel now. Your brother’s a man grown, Mairi. I’m certain he shall make prudent decisions where he and his men’s safety are concerned.”

  “Will you not allow me to at least try? I merely ask for the use of a horse. I’ll gladly see that my brother returns the favor in gracious measure.”

  Her pleading prodded at his anger. Was the thought of remaining in his keep that unbearable? She’d rather rush into death’s waiting embrace than endure his presence?

  “Are you barking mad? What am I to do?” He flung an arm toward the entrance. “Stand aside and let you rush out there in this mess? You’ll do naught but plummet over the edge of the cliff or freeze to death in the snow. Is that what you wish? To die? For your brother, or mayhap even me, to find your stiff, lifeless corpse?”

  That sobered her in a flash. Her wide, startled gaze watched him while she absorbed the callous words. Granted, ’twas a bit harsh of him but he knew no other way to get through to the stubborn woman.

  “Saints, if I could return you myself right this instant, I would damned well have done with it, but there’s naught outside those keep walls but certain death. Do I have to lock you in my bedchamber to make you understand?”

  A hard, affronted glint entered her blue eyes. “You would not dare.”

  Aaron leaned his head closer, his face a mere inch from hers. “Try me.”

  He anticipated the challenge would send her in a rage. Instead, her delicate features fell in defeat and her chin wobbled. Without a doubt, the taxing day had left her overwrought and vulnerable to her emotions. Saints, he understood the sentiment well.

  “I just want to go home.”

  The bare whisper cleaved at his chest. He balled his hands to keep from pulling her closer because the action would surely shatter his resolve. The lass craved comfort but he had none to give. Not without carving out his heart and handing the worthless, wretched organ over to her on a platter.

  Distance. ’Twas what he desired—nay, demanded. A healthy measure of distance was the only thing that might help him maintain his self-preservation. He retreated a step from the gilded temptation of Mairi MacGregor.

  “I wish it were truly that simple.” As soon as the vile words left his mouth, he regretted them.

  Then again, mayhap ’twas best she thought him naught but an arse. When she left him for good, it would make matters easier for both of them.

  Her gauging stare met his. “What has happened to you, Aaron MacRae? When did you become so cruel and full of loathing?”

  Taken aback, the words rattled him on a deeper level, one she could not possibly understand. Damned right, he was full of loathing—loathing for himself and the man he’d allowed himself to become. A man far too similar to his bastard of a father.

  As for cruel, he did not particularly label himself as cruel. Mayhap, indifferent at times but if she thought him cruel, then ’twas probably for the better as well.

  The close confines of the stables closed in around him. Desperate to get away from her, he spun on his boot heel and stalked toward the entrance. When she made no move to follow, he tossed her a wry glance over his shoulder.

  “Mayhap, you never truly knew me.”

  ’Twas a bold falsehood if he’d ever spoken one. Aside from his brother and, at times, Niall, Mairi was the only other person he’d felt such a close kinship with. Her bold spirit and kind heart sucked him in from the start. The sheer goodness of her shone through with such a blinding clarity. But, he would never truly deserve her light. ’Twas safest for him to remember that.

  “Mayhap, I did not. Nor shall I ever.”

  Her muttered words quashed the foolish inkling of hope he’d somehow managed to cling to in the past year. Aye, just as well. Hope was a useless fantasy for men such as him.

  He jerked his head toward the doors. “Give me a hand, will you?”

  Without another word, she followed him out into the blustery cold and helped him secure the stable doors from the onslaught of wind. He followed close behind her as they trudged through the pelting snow, careful to remain within arm’s length to catch her should she slip or fall. Once they reached the keep’s icy front steps, he grabbed hold of her elbow to steady her and she shot him a quick frown. To his surprise, she said naught and allowed him to guide her up the stairs, into the safety of the keep.

  Alain and Lachlan wasted no time barring the doors to shut out the bitter, winter wind swirling in behind them. Shaking off snow, he turned and noted his brother, Niall, and Kate stood near the main stairway, awaiting their return with anxious expressions plastered over their countenances.

  For the love of God, what did they take him for? A blasted lecher intent upon stealing Mairi’s virtue? Granted, considering their last encounter in his bedchamber, mayhap they had a valid argument.

  Ignoring their expectant stares, he tipped his head at Kate. “Please see that Lady Mairi is settled in my bedchamber for the eve, Kate.”

  Mairi glanced at him in surprise. “I thank you, but ’tis unnecessary. I shall have no trouble bedding down in the hall with the rest of your clan.”

  Well, the notion damned well troubled him. Many of the clan had claimed a warm spot close to the massive hearth blazing in the hall for the eve. Whatever empty space remained in the hall might leave her shivering on the cold, stone floor, a prospect he was unwilling to consider.

  He opened his mouth to snap out as much, but Connor interrupted. “You are more than welcome to use my chamber while you are in residence, Lady Mairi.”

  Affixing a pretty smile to her lips, she lifted that stubborn chin of hers. “Though I’m not speaking to you, in truth, you have my thanks. But I shall decline the offer. The hall shall suit my needs for the eve.”

  Lord above, spare him.

  Aaron ground his teeth in frustration and grasped her elbow. ’Twas the sole part of her that he trusted himself enough to touch. “I thought we’d reached an understanding in the stables.”

  Torchlight glimmered off the fire dancing in her piercing, crystalline eyes. “Aye, we did. I plan to leave on the morrow.”

  In the span of a heartbeat, his threadbare patience nearly rent in two. Nay, ’twas not the agreement they’d struck at all.

  He clenched his teeth with such a hard gnash he expected them to shatter into pieces. Not in the mood to continue arguing with the woman, especially with an audience, he swallowed the cutting rebuke on the tip of his tongue. Striving for a semblance of composure, he changed tactics.

  “Would you do me the honor of accepting the use of my chamber for the eve, my lady?” With a flourish of his hand, he nearly choked on the words.

  A slow, amused smile curved her lips, though the humor did not quite reach her eyes. “Aye, thank you. That would be lovely.”

  The false sweetness in her mocking tone rankled him to the bone.

  With their gazes locked and neither of them willing to yield, the unsettling tension in the thick air increased by tenfold.

  ’Twas a mercy Kate stepped closer, eager to defuse the situation. “Come, Lady Mairi. Allow me to fetch you a fresh gown and help build the fire for you.”

  “Thank you, Kate. ’Tis kind of you.” Narrowing her gaze, Mairi glanced away from Aaron. With a proud lift of her chin, she fell into step with Kate, climbing the main stairway.

  Despite the pounding of blood in his temples and his teetering control, Aaron could not help but admire the rhythmic sway of her hips. ’Twa
s too simple to recall the blissful feel of her long, shapely legs against his palms. His body tightened in response and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. By the blasted Saints, the woman would be the death of him—in truth.

  As soon as the two women turned on the landing and disappeared from sight, he shifted to face the others, unsurprised that the men’s gaze watched the stairway. He cleared his throat, gaining their attention.

  “I’ve a task for the pair of you,” he spoke to Alain and Lachlan. “I need the two of you to watch each set of stairs this eve. Please, ensure that Lady Mairi does not decide to attempt an early jaunt to the stables on the morrow.”

  Both men exchanged smirks but nodded in assent.

  “Aye, Laird.” Alain nudged Lachlan’s arm. “I’ll take watch at the rear.”

  The light-haired soldier bounded down the corridor to assume his post at the servants’ stairs near the buttery and kitchens.

  The blasted title vexed Aaron to no end, but he allowed the young guard to escape without a sharp reprimand. His short, heated encounters with Mairi had utterly drained him.

  Apprehensive, he turned to Niall. ’Twas not a kind chore he truly wished to request of his old friend, with the weather in such a state, but…

  He winced. “I’m loath to ask…”

  “Just ask.” Niall grunted. “There are few times I deny anything you request of me.”

  ’Twas true. If Aaron could depend on anyone, ’twas the large redheaded warrior. Loyal and honorable to a fault, Niall had often looked after him since childhood.

  “Would you check the state of the pass at dawn? By all means, do not attempt to venture down the cliff, just ensure the trail is still intact.”

  “You do not have to worry. I have intention of stepping foot on that bluff.”

  Aaron added, “There’s no doubt in my mind MacGregor shall arrive soon. Though, I hope the man has enough sense not to attempt such a treacherous feat, but I fear the man’s as determined as his sister.”

  “That I do not doubt.” Niall snorted. “I’ll see it done.”

  Aaron cuffed his friend’s shoulder. “You have my thanks.”

  “We’ll speak in the morn.” Nodding, Niall lumbered off in search of his bed for the few hours left before dawn.

  “Aye, well, ’tis been a long day.” Connor yawned in his hand. “I believe I shall seek out my bed for the eve.”

  As soon as his younger brother turned to climb the stairs, Aaron caught the nape of his collar. “Not so fast.”

  Connor tossed a quick glance over his shoulder. “What’s amiss?”

  Aaron pasted on a mocking smile. “You shall have the honor of bedding down in the hall with the rest of the clan.”

  “What?” his brother squawked in dismay and spun to face him. “Why the devil would I do that? I’ve a perfectly good chamber awaiting me above stairs.”

  “Had,” Aaron amended. “Since I’ve graciously handed my chamber over to Mairi, I shall require the use of yours for the eve.”

  His brother’s head snapped back. “Surely, we can share a bedchamber. We’ve done so plenty of times as lads.”

  Aaron shrugged and sidestepped his brother to mount the stairs. “We’re not lads anymore, Connor. Besides, I’m in need of peace and quiet. You know, since I’m ailing on my deathbed, after all.”

  His words delivered, he left his brother gaping after him.

  Chapter Six

  RESOUNDING CRACKS AND snaps of snow and ice-covered rock further up the cliff passage, followed by an unsettling rumble of the ground beneath his stallion’s hooves, sent a frisson of alarm through Calum’s taut frame. ’Twas the earth warning him not to proceed. It was a warning only a damned fool would disregard.

  “Halt!” he bellowed over the blustery blasts of wind howling from the sea. “Damn it, halt!”

  At once, he reined his mount to an immediate stop, unwilling to drag his men, or himself for that matter, toward certain doom. With the rock face to one side and a sheer drop-off on the other, he dared not peek over the edge.

  His men followed suit, pausing high on the bluff behind him. The pelting snow and wailing wind almost drowned out the series of small cracks and pops, but the sound was unmistakable.

  With dawn’s fast approach, he’d angrily goaded Liam, Patrick, and a handful of his men up the side of the steep, perilous, frozen rock face, despite his cousin’s adamant protests cautioning him to abandon the pursuit. And damned if his cousin had been right. If they continued, the horrid passage would splinter apart and send them plummeting to their deaths.

  As much as he despised retreating, ’twas a risk he could not take.

  “Turn around! Go back, now,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  The group of men wasted no time guiding their mounts backward down the narrow, icy bluff at a slow, but steady pace. Unable to turn his large-boned stallion to face frontward, he nudged the beast into action, steering him hindquarters first. A few yards down, the animal’s front hoof slipped on the icy rock, and the breath seized in Calum’s chest. Another loud, earth-shattering snap ricocheted through the inky blankness of night only to be swallowed by the blanketing flurries of snow.

  ’Twas by the sheer grace of God that the sturdy warhorse regained his footing along the slick ice. Heart banging in his chest, Calum pressed the animal onward as quickly as the beast could manage the dangerous terrain. A strong sense of urgency prodded him to get off the accursed trail. As soon as the pathway widened enough to turn his mount, he tapped the horse’s sides, carefully steered the beast around to face forward, and then goaded the animal into a gallop, hastening down the cliff.

  And none too soon. Within moments, the ice-covered rock further along the trail split with a deafening bang and shattered apart, sending a spray of rock and ice raining down into the darkened valley below.

  Damnation, ’twas close. Too damned close by his estimation. Saints, he might’ve led every single one of them to their deaths.

  Heart pounding a furious rhythm with the erratic thrum in his neck, he flanked the other men in no time. Eager to reach the safety of relatively flat earth, he surged ahead of his cousin and Patrick, reaching the bottom of the passageway.

  Desperate to feel the sturdy ground beneath him, he dismounted in one swift motion, his booted feet sinking in the gathering snow to his ankles. If the flurries continued to fall at such a steady rate, it’d soon reach his knees.

  His cousin’s mount clopped down the rock face, kicking up snow beneath his hooves. Liam reined the gelding alongside Calum’s horse and sprang from the saddle. His face contorted in anger, he stomped through the snow until he stood in Calum’s face.

  “Saints alive! Why the devil did you not listen to me? I told you ’twas not safe. We could’ve slid right over the edge!”

  While Liam’s anger was founded, the harsh rebuke frustrated Calum more. He spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m well aware, Liam.”

  In his haste to reach Mairi, he’d ignored his cousin’s sound warning, allowing his own stubborn foolishness to cloud his judgement. If anything had happened to his kin and men, he would’ve never forgiven himself. Alas, if something were to happen to his sister…

  Liam shoved at his shoulders. “Your damned pride might’ve gotten us killed!”

  Vexed with his own reckless actions and his cousin’s reminder, Calum returned the gesture, sending Liam back a few paces.

  “I said I damned well know!” he roared in frustration.

  Patrick jumped from his mount and darted in between the two of them, pushing Calum and Liam apart. “’Tis enough. The pair of you fighting helps naught.”

  Calum shook his head in disgust. “What the hell else was I to do? Leave Mairi with that arse, MacRae? By the Saints, Liam, you would’ve done the blasted same.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, raking away the snow pelting him. “Christ, now how the devil am I to bring her home where she belongs?”

  ’Twas harsh to accept—the fact that he’d failed his
sister.

  “Have you not heard a word Symon and I have said?” Liam snarled. “Since we departed this morn, both of us have assured you that Mairi shall come to no harm by MacRae’s hand. You know this as well as we do. This”—he flailed his arm at the falling snow and cliff passage—“was for naught. Either we catch our deaths in the cold or slide over the edge of the bluff and plummet to our deaths. Use your blasted, big head, Cousin. ’Tis time to retreat. Once the weather eases, we shall return and find up a way up that godforsaken cliff.” He settled a gloved hand on Calum’s shoulder. “She will not come to harm with MacRae. Saints, you know this.”

  Calum bared his teeth. “I’m not worried with him harming her.”

  Liam frowned. “Then what?”

  He cast a dry stare at his cousin. Surely, the man jested. Liam had witnessed the pair together. No doubt, his kin had spied the same longing reflected in both their eyes just as he had. He trusted MacRae with his sister slightly less than a starving pack of wolves.

  Understanding dawned in Liam’s features and his mouth sagged open. “Hell.”

  “Aye.” Calum breathed out with a lingering white billow of air.

  “Well, unless you can sprout a pair of wings, I see no way up that damned cliff. Not in this storm.”

  He remembered the path they’d taken the year before. “What of the beach pass?”

  Liam remained silent, but his scathing glower spoke volumes.

  Nay, of course they could not attempt the worn, narrowed footpath. With the icy conditions and dampness from the sea, they’d slide straight over the edge in a heartbeat.

  “Then we find shelter against the storm and make camp for the eve. We can try on the morrow,” Calum proposed.

  “Nay, Calum.” Patrick tugged the pelts tighter around his neck. “’Tis not a prudent notion. Not this eve. We risk freezing to death in this weather. ’Tis best to return home as Liam suggested before we catch our deaths.”

  Calum could not believe his numb ears. He glared at his old friend. “You act as though you have no care at all for Mairi. For Christ’s sake, she’s your betrothed.”