My Reckless Love

by Melissa Limoges

  Despite his rigid stance, Geoffrey infused charm into his tone and applied a false smile to his face. “So, what say you, Laird MacRae?”

  The foul man belched. “Aye, Longford. The MacRaes are at your service.”

  Aaron bolted from his seat, shouting a string of Gaelic Geoffrey could not decipher. With a parting glare aimed at him, the other man stormed from the great hall.

  “Do not mind Aaron.” Shaking his head, Laird MacRae stared after his son.

  Geoffrey shrugged. Aaron MacRae was the least of his worries.

  “The boy’s as stubborn as his mother was.” Laird MacRae cuffed the youth beside him on the shoulder. “At least my Connor is not a pain in my backside like his brother.” He waved to the empty seat at his other side. “Please, sit. Drink. Let’s discuss your offer.” The old laird licked his lips. “Tell me, what is your price?”

  Oh, you shall soon find out, you disgraceful, filthy swine. “’Tis a bounty fit for a king to be sure.” Geoffrey smiled a toothsome grin. “I believe I have just the thing in mind.” He grabbed the missive from Finn. “This summons has presented quite a propitious turn. In fact, I believe your son, Aaron, might be the proper man to carry out the duty I have in mind.”

  He scanned the chamber, noting none of the hall’s occupants had shifted from their seats since he’d entered, which made his next move much easier. His gaze slid to John, who straightened his spine and gripped the pommel of the weapon at his side. Geoffrey met Finn’s gaze and gave a barely discernable nod as he moved to join the laird on the other side of the high table.

  MacRae struggled to his feet, his wide grin baring a row of rotten teeth.

  Geoffrey paused a few steps away and smiled at the pathetic creature before him. “I hope you understand, ’tis a service I’m doing your clan.”

  The laird cocked his head and his brow puckered, confusion clouding his features.

  Holding his body taut, Geoffrey motioned to Finn, who released an ear-splitting shout, shattering the peace. Chaos ensued as men streamed through the entrance of the great hall and the kitchens in the rear. Effortlessly, his men overtook the unwitting, unarmed MacRaes where they sat, rounding up the lot in the center of the chamber.

  “To arms. To arms.” Laird MacRae bellowed as he looked on in horror.

  “’Tis of no use, I’m afraid,” Geoffrey calmly replied. “You see, my men have been busy while you and I’ve had our little chat. No one will come to your aid.”

  He withdrew his sword from the scabbard at his waist. The ring of steel gained the laird’s notice and his startled gaze darted to Geoffrey’s.

  “You must forgive me, but I’m short of time and patience, Laird MacRae.” He stepped forward and swung his blade with all his might, lopping the old man’s head from atop his shoulders. Heedless to the warm spray of blood and hard thump at his feet, he shifted his attention to the frightened youth gaping at his dead father.

  Geoffrey pointed the tip of his weapon at Connor’s neck. “Your brother and I have much to discuss.” He nodded to Finn. “Bring our friend, Aaron, into the hall. Somehow, I’m sure you’ll find him far more gracious now.”

  In fact, Geoffrey wagered Aaron might thank him later for seizing upon MacRae’s weakness. ’Twas what he did—prey on the weak. Everyone had failings, and he intended to use them to his benefit.

  Avarice slew Laird MacRae. Honor murdered Iain. Despair destroyed Geoffrey’s mother, while misery killed his father. As for Arabella, willfulness would guide her to ruin.

  In no time, Aaron rushed into the hall. His wide gaze flickered from his father’s body to the sword at his younger brother’s throat.

  “Let him go,” the fool demanded.

  Geoffrey applied pressure to his weapon, the tip scoring skin and pulling a hiss of pain from the youth.

  With a shouted denial, Aaron leaped forward, but Finn and John grabbed his arms, restraining the man.

  “Do you wish him to meet the same fate as your father?” Geoffrey lifted a brow.

  Hatred gleamed in Aaron’s eyes, but he shook his head.

  Geoffrey tipped his head at Finn and the pair released the man. Rolling his shoulder, he dropped his sword from Connor’s throat and leaned closer to the youth.

  “For your sake, I hope your brother is a reasonable fellow.” He waved to Finn. “See to our young friend for the time being.” He motioned for Aaron to sit at the table. “Please, have a seat.”

  Unwavering defiance reflected in the Scot’s burning gaze and he stubbornly refused to comply which snapped the remaining reserve of Geoffrey’s temper.

  He bellowed, “Sit the hell down, or I shall hand over your damned brother’s bloody head on a cursed trencher.”

  The words had the desired effect. Aaron marched forward and slipped into a seat across the table.

  Rolling his eyes, Geoffrey stepped over the headless body at his feet and dropped down into the laird’s chair. Not that the man would require it any longer.

  Irritated by the entire affair, he cut straight to the point. “The only thing keeping you and that whelp brother of yours alive is the mere fact I have a task for you.”

  Aaron spat out, “What task?”

  “Steal MacGregor’s bride.”

  Disbelief flashed in the Scot’s gaze, promptly swallowed by outrage. “Or what?”

  Geoffrey leaned back in his seat. “Simple. I’ll slit your brother’s throat, then I’ll slit yours.”

  *

  Exasperated, Arabella stared into the flames as Heartha and the others fretted over her wedding gown. Saints, how much longer would they continue? Nearly the entire day had passed since the women dragged her into Calum’s solar. A rap at the door silenced the chattering women, much to Arabella’s satisfaction.

  Elena called out, “Enter.”

  The door swung open and her Uncle Hammish stepped inside, making the already packed confines seem smaller. The women shouted and attempted to shoo him from the chamber with little success.

  “The lot of you, hush.” He waved a hand toward Arabella. “I desire a word with my niece. In private.”

  Elena moved to protest, but he paced closer to her. “Please, Elena.”

  The older woman’s eyes rounded and her lips parted in surprise. She blinked several times before snapping her mouth shut. Finally, she nodded. “All right. Let’s give them their privacy, ladies.”

  Circling the solar, Elena helped the women pack their materials away into baskets, then held the door as she ushered them from the chamber.

  Arabella sat at attention when she spied her uncle grasp Elena’s arm as she passed. He bent his head to her ear and whispered something Arabella could not hear. The pair stared at each other, then Elena nodded. Smiling, Uncle Hammish released her arm and she dashed from the chamber without a backward glance.

  Curiosity pricked, Arabella wished to know what was going on between the two.

  Once he barred the door from intruders, her uncle paced the chamber until he came to rest in front of the hearth, feet away from her. Stroking his rusty beard, he stared down into the flames.

  “I—”

  “You—”

  They spoke at the same time. He craned his neck to peer at her and grinned. “That’s some timing, my lass.”

  She smiled at the glimpse of the old Uncle Hammish she recognized from her youth. Not the absent, troubled man she’d encountered in recent days.

  “Allow me to go first,” he said. “There are many things I must say.”

  Arabella nodded and straightened in her seat, giving him her undivided attention.

  Dropping his hand from his beard, he tucked his arms behind his back and resumed pacing the chamber. He paused in front of her. “’Twas never my intention to throw you to the wolves as I’ve done.”

  She snorted. “There are hardly any wolves here, Uncle.”

  He waved away her words. “Even so, I should’ve spoken to you before I left. I should’ve made sure you were looked after.” Glancing away
, he raised his hand to his jaw and scratched. “In the hall that eve…I was in my cups and being an arse. The way you learned of the match with Calum,”—he shook his head—“’Twas not right. I should’ve spoken to you sooner.”

  “Why did you not?”

  He raised his brows. “I knew you’d be displeased.” He resumed pacing. “You have your mother’s spirit, but you have my temper, I’m afraid. Nay, you would not have understood my position, my reasoning for the match, if I’d simply told you from the start.”

  Biting her lip, she asked, “What is your reasoning?”

  He paused and searched her gaze for long moments. “I wanted you to find the same happiness your mother and father shared. I’ve known Calum since his birth. He’s grown into a strong, capable leader of his clan who deserves the same happiness.” He shrugged. “I’ll admit I pressed him to agree, but ’twas because I could not lose you to anyone less deserving or worthy than Calum.”

  The burn of tears threatened to spill over. She reached out and snagged his hand. “All is well, Uncle. I’m contented with my betrothed.”

  He expelled a gust of air that ruffled the hair atop her head. “You know I would’ve never arranged it if I had my doubts. Right, girl?”

  “I know. I trust you, Uncle.” She squeezed his hand. “Truly, I’m happy with Calum.”

  “Good, good.” Nodding, he patted her hand. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”

  “But, what of you? What has troubled you so? Is there something I can help with?”

  “No need to fret. Naught’s amiss.” He released her hand and chucked her beneath the chin. “Since I ran those harpies off, enjoy a bit of peace and quiet before they return.”

  He crossed the chamber and grabbed the latch to the door. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder. “You know, with all this talk of marriage lately, I’ve given the matter thought. Mayhap I should try my hand at matrimony. What say you to that, girl?”

  Speechless, Arabella gaped at him.

  He tossed his head back and laughed. “I see the notion does not sit well with you either. ’Twas just a passing thought.”

  As soon as he stepped out, leaving her in privacy, she stared at the closed door for a long while. Had her uncle truly meant what he’d said? If so, who did he have in mind?

  With a burst of startling clarity, she bolted upright from her seat. “Elena!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Arabella flung her arm in the direction of the two men posted on the opposite side of the garden’s stone wall. “They must have more pressing duties than this.”

  Busy plucking herbs, Mairi smiled. “Sean and Gavin are only doing as ordered.”

  Arabella rolled her eyes. That did not mean she had to like it.

  In truth, it’d taken her a few days to notice the pair. At first, they watched her at a distance under the guise of stealth. Once she discovered the two men, they had not bothered with the pretense any longer. Now, to her dismay, Sean and Gavin hounded her every step with unabashed diligence.

  Mairi added, “Calum’s only being careful, Arabella.”

  She transferred her glare from the stone wall to the other woman’s bent head.

  Careful?

  Aside from the evening meals, she’d scarcely seen Calum since he’d announced their wedding. If her safety worried him so, then why had he distanced himself from her?

  She sniffed. “I assure you there is no need.”

  Mairi rose to her feet and wiped her hands on her apron. Frowning, she crossed the garden and joined Arabella on the stone bench. “Do not be so stubborn. Calum is not taking any chances.”

  “Chances with what? And I’m not stubborn.” At Mairi’s raised brows, Arabella grumbled, “I’m not that stubborn.”

  “My brother fears Longford will make an appearance at some point.” Mairi reached over and grasped her hand. “I know you must worry about that as well. So, please, do not fault Calum for protecting you.”

  Arabella glanced away, unable to admit Mairi was right. No matter how safe she felt enclosed in the keep’s stone walls or surrounded by scores of hardened warriors, the fear of Longford coming for her lingered in her mind. Even if the men did not speak of such matters with her, she knew as well as Calum and her uncle that Longford could not duly claim Penswyck without her. The lengths he’d taken thus far…nay, the whole affair was not over. Not yet.

  “I know,” she mumbled. “’Tis just…I’m starting to feel as though I’m a prisoner.”

  “Do not be daft. You’re free to come and go as you please.” Mairi raised her voice. “Only now you have Sean and Gavin who are more than happy to follow along with you. Right, men?”

  Two male grunts sounded from the opposite side of the wall.

  At least Arabella grudgingly admired the pair’s spirit. When she’d confronted her unwanted escorts, she railed at Sean and Gavin like a madwoman. The two men simply paid her complaints no heed and remarked on the loveliness of the day.

  Mairi nudged her arm. “Something else is troubling you?”

  Looking over the herbs in the garden, she shrugged and shook her head. Far too many doubts to recount tumbled round in her head in a ceaseless flow.

  “Oh, I’m sure of it. You’ve been in a foul mood for days, and ’tis not just because of Sean and Gavin.”

  Arabella glanced heavenward in exasperation. How like Mairi to notice. Since she’d arrived a fortnight ago, the two of them had become fast friends. She soon learned she could not sneak anything past the woman. At times, she counted Mairi’s perceptive nature a blessing. In this instance, ’twas a curse.

  Troubled was too subdued a word for how she felt. In truth, her heart weighed heavy and her spirits wavered. Overwhelmed was a more apt description.

  Between missing Iain, Maggie and Dougal, Heartha and the other women fretting over her wedding attire, the unsteady truce between Elena and her uncle—though the pair still had not spoken to each other—and then Calum’s worrying absence as of late, she was honestly at her wits’ end.

  Mairi pressed. “Come on. What’s amiss?”

  “’Tis naught.”

  “You may as well tell me. I’ll keep asking until you do.”

  “Saints, Mairi. All right.” Annoyed, she scowled at her friend. Against her better judgement, words poured out of her in a rush. “I desperately miss my brother and my home. I’ve no notion what’s happened to Maggie or Dougal—whether they live or…”

  Christ, she refused to speak of the alternative.

  She continued past the sudden lump in her throat. “The matter with my uncle and your aunt weighs on me. I’ve been poked and prodded with sewing needles for a sennight. No one’s allowed me to lift a finger to help with my own wedding.” She snorted in derision and raised her voice. “My wedding? ’Tis almost laughable. I’ve seen little of your brother as of late and when I do, he hardly speaks a handful of words to me. Am I to wed a man that blows colder than the blasted winters here?”

  By the time her outburst ended, her chest rose and fell. For a moment, the weight of silence spanned between her and Mairi.

  She chanced a peek at her friend to find the other woman’s mouth hanging open. “Mairi, I did not mean—”

  When Mairi bolted from bench, Arabella’s tongue suddenly felt too thick to swallow. Why had she not simply kept her mouth shut? Had she angered her only friend? Uneasy, she looked on as Mairi paced the garden, one arm crossed over her middle, the other lifted to her chin, tapping one finger against her bottom lip.

  After several turns in the garden, Mairi paused in front of Arabella and clasped her hands in front of her. “All right. Let’s settle this, shall we?”

  Arabella raised her eyebrows, and Mairi held up one finger.

  “Foremost, I’m truly sorry for the loss of your brother. I wish I could say more to ease your grief. Alas, there is naught for me to offer, save my friendship. As for your home, you may have lost one, but you’ve gained another.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder
to indicate the keep. “The clan loves you. My aunt loves you. I love you. You’re part of our family now, Arabella.”

  Mairi crossed her arms and resumed wearing a path in the garden. “Your uncle and my aunt…I’m not sure what’s happened between them. Neither one has spoken of it to anyone, but I think ’tis time you and I find out.” She grinned over Arabella. “What say you?”

  Taken aback, she blinked at the other women. “I thought my words might’ve offended you.”

  “Not in the slightest.” Mairi motioned between them. “You and I are friends. We share our troubles and help one another. That is friendship to me. Oh, and ’tis your wedding, you daft woman. That’s why no one’s allowed you to help.”

  Arabella slumped against the stone wall, relieved by her friend’s easy acceptance. “I’d hoped to contribute as everyone else has done.”

  “Trust me, you’ll have ample opportunity to contribute after the wedding. Elena and I will gladly pass over our duties as mistresses. Now, as for Calum,” Mairi said with a note of amusement. “I’m fairly certain you will find your bridegroom much warmer after the two of you speak your vows.”

  She frowned in confusion. “I do not—”

  “Aye, you do.” Mairi laughed. “Do you not realize his absence might have something to do with the…discussion the pair of you shared a sennight ago?”

  Heat swam in Arabella’s cheeks. Blasted Calum! He’d assured her no one knew what happened between them in the stables that eve.

  “I’ve no notion what you mean.” She lifted her chin. At the other woman’s loud peal of laughter, she snapped out, “How would you know in the first place?”

  Laughing, Mairi swiped tears from her eyes. “Oh, I’m more than familiar with what takes place between a man and woman. I’ve stumbled upon Liam on more occasions than I care to recount.” She scrunched her nose in distaste.

  Arabella straightened on the bench. “You mean, you saw…”

  “Saints, aye.” Mairi plopped down on the stone beside her. “You must’ve noticed he’s not the timid sort.”

  “Have you ever…” Curiosity burning, she waved her hand. “What of Calum?”