Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle

by Victoria Vane

  Patrick threw his hands up in annoyance. “Of course, I care for her. I would not have traveled in this wretched mess if I did not, but what would you have us do, Calum? We’re not prepared to withstand the cold for much longer. I’m sorry, old friend, but there is naught we can do to help Mairi for the moment. At least we can return when the weather eases with air in our lungs and our limbs intact.”

  Calum yearned to rail and curse at Patrick, but his friend and cousin had spoken the truth. They were ill-prepared against the snow, freezing wind, and unforgiving, icy terrain. He could not allow his own folly to risk his kin’s lives.

  Liam placed a hand on Calum’s shoulder. “Come, Cousin. Let us return home and seek warmth.”

  Saints, what a damned mess. Too many disturbing thoughts hammered away inside his head. “Forgive me for not listening. ’Tis that I merely worry. What if she’s not here? What if they never made it through the storm? Or worse, what if they slid over the edge as we nearly did?”

  Liam’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “You did not doubt MacRae had taken her before we departed. In truth, every single one of us knew who’d taken her. Just as I have no doubt they cleared the passage before the storm worsened. I understand your worries, Cousin, but standing here in the freezing snow railing at each other shall not bring her home any sooner.” Liam’s hand fell away and a smirk lifted a corner of his mouth. “Now, if you please, I’m eager to return home. In case you failed to recollect, I have a comely wife on the verge of giving birth any day. ’Tis truth, I’d prefer not to miss the arrival of my son or daughter.”

  Guilt stabbed at Calum for his thoughtlessness. He’d not given one speck of thought to the arrival of Liam and Nora’s firstborn.

  “Saints, Liam. I should not have—”

  “Stop.” Liam held up his hand. “You did not force me to accompany you. I did so because I care for Mairi. We are kin. This is not the end of the matter, Calum. We shall bring her home where she belongs, but not this eve. Come, let us return to our wives before we are snowed under.”

  The thought of leaving Mairi with MacRae vexed the hell out of Calum, but what other choice did he have at present. Nodding his assent, he sloshed through the snow toward his stallion. The horse tossed his mane and pawed at the snow around his hooves. ’Twas apparent his cousin and Patrick were not the only ones eager to return to the safety and warmth of home.

  After he hoisted himself in the saddle and dressed in another warm fur he’d pulled from his saddlebag, he aimed a parting glance at the accursed, crumbling passage. He may have failed to bring his sister home that eve, but once the snow abated, God help Aaron MacRae.

  Chapter Seven

  MAIRI SWAM INTO consciousness, blinking at the near darkness in the bedchamber. A soft, faint light emanated from the dying crackle of flames in the hearth across the chamber. She raised her head to peer at the window slit, but the furs blocking the opening gave her little indication of time. Whether morn or eve, she still felt wholly exhausted. Dropping her tender head on the pillow, she burrowed deeper in the warm furs and wished for naught more than to fall into the sweetness of oblivion once more.

  Her entire body ached from the tense ride the day before. Alas, ’twas a trip she must repeat if she thought to return home. Not that she anticipated the journey, especially given the snowy conditions, but her brother must be frantic with worry.

  Resigned to the daunting task ahead of her, she sat upright and stretched the sore, stiff muscles in her back and shoulders. The lump on the back of her skull throbbed with an aching twinge. Undoubtedly, lying flat on her back had not helped. Yawning, she wrapped a fur around her shoulders and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As soon as the soles of her bare feet hit the freezing stone floor, she yelped in surprise.

  Holy Mother, if that did not yank her into full consciousness, naught else would.

  Shivering from the chill in the air, she sprang to her feet to cross to the hearth. Spying a large lump of furs laid out before the dying flames, she frowned as she moved a few paces closer. Cautious, she leaned over to inspect the covered mass. She pressed her cold toes against the pelts and shoved hard, earning her a muffled groan. The coverlets shifted and a dark head peeked through the top of the pelts.

  How the devil had she not heard anyone enter her chamber? And more importantly, who would dare?

  Annoyed by the person’s audacity, she gripped the top of the furs and ripped away the thick coverlets. Connor’s bleary eyes sprang open and his mouth parted, mirroring her own surprise.

  “What in God’s name are you doing in here?”

  Scrambling upright, Connor flapped his mouth open and closed twice. His gaze darted to the low-burning embers in the hearth. “Jesus, ’tis damned cold. Allow me to build the fire before we speak.”

  As if she had any trouble figuring that out on her own. Sweet Mother, her toes were frozen to the stone floor.

  Connor rose to his knees to grab more wood beside the hearth to feed the flames. She wasted no time dashing across the chamber on numb feet. Jumping onto the bed, she tucked her chilled limbs beneath the warmth of the furs. Saints alive, she did not look forward to the day’s journey in the frigid temperatures.

  As the fire licked higher, spitting crackles and hisses in the hearth, the dim chamber lit with a bright glow. Once Connor finished his task, he returned to his nest of furs he’d spread over the floor and wrapped himself in pelts. For an instant, she considered joining the young man on his pallet to soak up more of the fire’s heat.

  When he glanced at her, she lifted a brow. “I do not suppose you’d mind telling me why you’re in my bedchamber?”

  Or rather, Aaron’s bedchamber. Though, she failed to correct herself.

  Buried from head to toe in furs, he rolled his sleepy eyes. “Aaron was in a mood last eve and took mine. Seems he’s a bit vexed with me.”

  Mairi snorted. “I cannot imagine why.”

  He cast her a dry stare. “I’ve said I’m sorry. What more can I do?”

  “I should not even be speaking to you at all, but we’ll get to that in a moment. So, why did you not simply share the chamber with your brother?”

  “He would not allow it,” Connor muttered. “Said I should bed down in the hall. Alas, all the good spots close to the hearth were taken and my blasted teeth were chattering.” He shrugged. “I thought you would not mind sharing a chamber for one night.”

  “Would not mind?” She blinked in disbelief.

  Apparently, the solemn lad she’d met in the past had grown into a daring, spirited young man. He thought nothing of proper decorum. Not to say she gave a twig either way, but ’twas merely the principle of the matter. Especially after his wretched scheme the day before.

  “Of course, I mind.” She glared. “I trusted you, Connor, and you disappointed me. Do you have any notion the difficulty you’ve wrought for me and my kin?”

  “I know, I know.” With a furrowed brow, he hung his head. “Believe me, I hope to make amends, Mairi. ’Twas never my intent to anger you or Aaron, in truth.”

  The urge to severely scold him for his thoughtlessness pressed on her, but she somehow managed to guard her tongue. Mayhap, ’twas the creases of remorse marring his features, as if he truly regretted his actions.

  “Why did you do it, Connor?”

  He peered at her in earnest. His dark, soulful eyes reflected a wealth of understanding unusual for one of such a young age.

  “You’ve seen him. He’s not the same man he once was, Mairi.”

  Aye, she’d noticed the change in his demeanor. An embittered, angry Aaron MacRae replaced the kind, honorable man she remembered. Granted, fate had not been kind to him or his brother. ’Twas a pity that hardship had weighed on him to the point he’d compromised his integrity. Rather than share her opinion, she merely waited for Connor to continue.

  “My brother’s a good man, Lady Mairi,” he explained. “He’s always been a good, decent man. Since our father’s death and the unfo
rtunate events with you and MacGregor’s wife, guilt eats at him. With each day, it seems to grow worse. In the past year, he’s not taken one step toward taking over the clan as he should’ve done the day our wretched father died.” Connor shook his head in irritation. “He feels as though he’s not worthy of the position.”

  She frowned at the information. “Then who is laird?”

  “He blasted well is,” he asserted in a near shout. “Everyone in the clan looks to him as laird but he dismisses them. ’Tis truth, he spends his days with repairs around the holding, but he’s distanced himself from everyone.” He met her direct stare. “’Tis why I brought you here. He cannot continue the course he’d taken. Nor can our clan. I’d hoped you might change his mind, especially since…”

  She waited for him to spit out the rest of his statement. When he remained silent, she prodded. “Since what?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You must know I’ve heard by now.”

  For a moment, she held her breath. “Heard what?”

  “Come now, Mairi. I speak to what few allies we have left. Someone must since Aaron will not,” he muttered. “I’ve heard tidings of your upcoming marriage to Laird MacEwan.”

  The air in her lungs whooshed out in a noisy rush. “Oh.”

  Sitting a bit straighter, she’d not anticipated Connor or his brother catching wind of her arrangement with Patrick. For some inexplicable reason, a pang of guilt accompanied the knowledge. But why should Aaron care in the first place? ’Twas evident the man never planned to set eyes on her again, if his reaction the night before was any judge. If he had, then mayhap she might not have accepted the first—well, only—offer that happened to come along.

  Regardless, she could not help but squirm a wee bit in the sights of Connor’s watchful gaze.

  With a wry grin, he added, “You may put your mind as ease. I’ve not mentioned a word of it to Aaron.”

  Despite her best efforts to remain unaffected, her shoulders slumped with relief. “It matters not, Connor. I’ve agreed to wed MacEwan this coming spring.”

  Even though the words rang false to her ears, the lad bolted to his knees in response. The furs dropped from his shoulders in his haste. “You cannot wed him!”

  She gaped at Connor for several heartbeats before her indignation stepped in. “Why, in God’s name, should I not? Your brother feels naught for me, nor I for him.” The blatant falsehood nearly scalded her tongue. “There’s naught between us. You’d do well to remember that. I’m sorry, Connor, but the only way I might help your brother is by leaving this place altogether.”

  A scowl etched over his features. “You’ve no notion what he feels for you.”

  Frustrated with the whole affair, she lashed out, “Nay, ’tis you who has no notion. Now, be gone with you so that I might tidy up and break my fast before I leave this wretched place for good.”

  Dragging to his feet, he grumbled beneath his breath and wrapped a fur around his lean frame.

  Unable to decipher the muttered words, she called after him. “Was there something more you wished to say?”

  Without meeting her gaze, Connor shook his head and shuffled to the door. Pausing with his hand on the latch, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll return to escort you to the hall. In the meantime, I’ll send Kate up with some fresh water and linens.”

  The sooner the better by her estimation. Once she filled her belly with warm fare, secured a horse and bundle of furs, she would be on her way. And damned if she would spare a glance at what she left behind.

  *

  DESPITE THE COLD emanating from the stone walls, Aaron dipped his hands into the basin on a pedestal near the hearth and splashed water over his face and bare chest. He propped his forearms over the rim and stared at his reflection as the ripples settled over the surface. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes from a lack of sleep, while deep creases folded his brow. Stubble covered his cheeks and jaw, but after such a restless eve, he could not bother to shave.

  He wondered if the storm had eased and the snowfall slackened. How long before the horrid, troublesome mess melted enough to send Mairi home where she belonged?

  Christ, however was he to manage with the woman in residence? The mere thought pained his already aching head.

  ’Twas apparent, he’d have to do his damnedest to steer clear of the lass. He could not afford to fall prey to her comely smiles and witty banter. If he allowed himself to succumb to the woman, he suspected he’d not survive her leaving him a final time. Then again, considering her brother’s foul disposition, Aaron would likely not survive regardless.

  A soft rap at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

  “Enter,” he called out. Straightening from the basin, he reached for an old leine and tunic to toss over his head.

  Niall stepped inside, sealing the door behind him, and leaned his back against the wooden timbers. Lines of exhaustion wore heavy in the man’s stern features.

  At once, guilt prodded at Aaron for the request he’d made of his friend.

  “Did you manage to get a speck of sleep?” he queried with a lift of his brows.

  “Aye, a bit.” Niall scrubbed a hand over his scruffy cheeks and shorn red hair. “I thought you’d wish to know MacGregor along with his small party attempted the pass.”

  For a suspended moment, Aaron sucked in a lungful of air, hesitant of what else Niall might add. He may not care for MacGregor, but he did not harbor any ill will toward Mairi’s kin. When Niall did not speak soon enough, Aaron urged him with a wave of his hand.

  “And? What happened?”

  The big man speared him with a wry stare. “So, you do care.”

  Aye, well, he’d rather not explain to Mairi her brother fell off the side of a cliff. With a roll of his eyes, he huffed out a grunt. “Saints, man. Speak.”

  “From the looks of things, they made it up the bluff to a certain point. From what I can tell, he and his men successfully made it back down to safety as well.”

  Bemused, Aaron frowned. If they’d made it up, then why retreat?

  Niall responded to his unspoken question. “Seems a large chunk of the passage midway up the trail crumbled and fell away. Until most of the ice and snow melts, ’tis not safe to attempt travel.”

  Hell, ’twas not the tidings he wished to hear.

  “Are you certain? ’Tis no other way?” Though, he knew the answer before Niall muttered a sound.

  He’d spent his life living on the bluff side near the Scottish shore. Though the summers were breathtaking, winter never ceased to pose problems. The damp sea air and freezing conditions, coupled with the climbing, rocky terrain, never boded safe travels during the winter months, even without the benefit of a storm. More often than not, both trails remained near impassable until the frigid weather subsided and the earth began to thaw.

  Blasted hell, that meant Mairi, most assuredly, would remain in residence for at least a fortnight, if not longer. For Christ’s sake, the disconcertingly complicated situation worsened, crossing over into disastrous territory.

  “Your stricken features tell me you’ve deduced the answer for yourself,” Niall said with a slight lift of his lips.

  Aaron clung to the fraying thread of his remaining reason. Otherwise, he might’ve hurled the basin across the chamber in frustration. He stalked to the edge of the bed and plopped down before emitting a harsh curse that resounded from the stone walls.

  “What in the hell am I to do with her now?”

  Niall shoved away from the entrance and crossed the chamber to sit in a chair in front of the hearth. Facing the fire, he warmed his hands and cast a glimpse at Aaron.

  “I’m afraid you have little choice in the matter. Besides, what’s so horrid with her being here? I thought you cared for the woman.”

  “Saints, you’ve been speaking to Connor too damned much,” Aaron muttered.

  Niall shrugged. “She seems an affable sort.”

  ’Twas the problem.

  Affable was too t
ame a word to describe Mairi. The lass was caring and kind. Not to mention, bold and spirited, comely and passionate—everything to ensnare the hollowed organ in Aaron’s chest. Saints alive, could he survive a fortnight in such close proximity to the woman?

  “She means naught to me.” The faithless words tumbled from his mouth in a garbled rush. Even he scarcely believed them himself.

  In truth, he’d no notion why he bothered speaking them in the first place. Without lifting his gaze, he could feel the weight of Niall’s stare burning into him.

  “Then, I suppose you shall have no trouble explaining to her that the bluff’s impassable and she has no choice but to remain.”

  Aaron’s head snapped upright to gawk at his friend. “What? Nay. Connor brought her here. Let him deal with her wrath.”

  Niall’s red brows lowered in disapproval. “You’re laird, not Connor. Whether you wish to claim the position or not.”

  “You know damned well I’m no laird. I never will be,” he asserted with a growl. “’Tis best you and everyone else around here figures that out.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, Aaron.” Shaking his head, Niall pushed upright and stalked toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have more pressing matters to attend to rather than listening to your nonsense.”

  Without waiting for a response, Niall exited the chamber, banging the door shut behind him with a jarring slam.

  Irritated, Aaron flopped back on the bed with his arms spread wide. First Connor, now Niall. The relentless pair never ceased with their ridiculous drivel.

  ’Twas a mercy he had another long day of work to keep him occupied and far away from Mairi MacGregor. The less he saw of the woman, the better for both of them.

  Chapter Eight

  SEATED AT THE high table in the great hall alongside Connor, Mairi struggled to swallow her first bite of porridge. The foul concoction hung in her throat. She coughed to clear the sticky obstruction. How the devil could anyone ruin fare as simple as cooked oats?