The Highlander's Outlaw Bride

by MacRae, Cathy

  She jabbed a finger at his chest angrily. “I once was the wife of a man who saw to his own pleasures long before my barest comfort, and I willnae endure it again. I told ye I willnae marry a man I dinnae trust, and I wouldnae marry ye if ye were the last man on earth!”

  “Ye wouldnae?” Conn returned, hating that he sounded like a five-year-old, and angry she could provoke him so. “Ye are betrothed to me, like it or not, and here is where this argument ends.”

  “Save it for the poor lass who has the misfortune to marry ye!” she shouted. “I would rather be turned out to starve than marry the likes of ye.”

  Conn stopped in his tracks, a blistering reprimand hanging on the tip of his tongue. The line of her body, the bright spots of color on her too-pale face told him she was deadly serious. The fine trembling of her hands, the quick, shallow breaths betrayed the depth of her emotion, and he held his peace for a long moment, hoping to give her time to calm down and come to her senses.

  Brianna bristled. Two weeks ago, she would have forgiven him anything, especially to avenge Bray. One week ago, word from him would have made a difference, though he would have been hard pressed to present it, and she would have seen to it he paid dearly for his omission. His callous disregard for her and his rejection of his promise to include her in his decisions still stung, however unintentional it may have been.

  She tossed her head, loosening the tight muscles in her neck and back. “Ye can hie yerself back to Corfin Castle. When ye find the betrothal contract that bids us wed two weeks ago, burn it!”

  Tam’s low whine tore her attention from Conn, and she glance down. Jamie stared at her, his eyes huge in his small face as a single tear slid down one cheek. Tam wound his body in front of the lad, providing a physical barrier around him.

  Brianna caressed the top of Jamie’s head. “Jamie, be a good lad and go find Gavin. Take Tam with ye. Look near the smithy’s shed.”

  With an uncertain glance at her and the men about them, Jamie sidled from the hall, his hand buried in Tam’s thick ruff. Brianna turned back to Conn.

  “I could petition the king to confiscate yer lands for breaking the contract. I would rather ye simply walk away.”

  He looked at her askance. “I havenae broken the contract. ’Tis still intact as far as I am concerned.”

  “Read the wording, Connor. It specified a wedding two weeks ago.”

  “Gather yer things. We will still have the wedding at Morven.”

  Brianna drew back, her brows arched, chin tucked close as she pinned him with a regretful stare. “I told ye, I want a marriage based on respect. Ye asked what that meant—since ye havenae learned, I will tell ye. It is trust and consideration, not pretty words that lose their meaning before the ink is dry. Had ye considered me in yer decisions and actions, I would have banded with yer cause, trusted ye to keep yer word.”

  “I was sick and lost track of the days. Capturing Malcolm took longer than I expected.”

  “Aye. I sent a man to find out why ye dinnae arrive for the wedding. But ye chose not to send word. I willnae be forever chasing after ye, wondering each day if ye will be home or nae, questioning how I fit into yer life.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “Ye are still a lad, playing at being a laird. Ye have a lot of growing up to do before ye take on other obligations—such as a wife. If ye cannae keep up with yer daily responsibilities, hire a steward or nursemaid who will.”

  Conn’s face flushed and he scowled. “That is yer final word? Ye willnae honor the contract?”

  She turned cold eyes on him. “I have already burned mine.”

  With a glare to match her own, he strode to the fireplace where a small banked fire lay in readiness for the evening. He pulled a length of paper from his sporran, and, after a brief hesitation, held it to the embers until it caught fire, letting it burn until the flames reached his fingers. He dropped the remnant onto the hearth, where it glowed briefly red as it was reduced to a pile of pale ash and thin smoke.

  * * *

  Jamie threw himself onto the chair at Gavin’s side and scowled mightily. “Anna willnae talk to me.”

  Gavin stared at the lad. Were he older, he would look very formidable, but for now, he just looked cross. Cross and unhappy.

  “She doesnae like me anymore,” he wailed. Pouring out his woes onto Gavin’s lap, he stomped his feet, demanding his world back to its rightful order.

  Gavin ruffled the lad’s hair. “I will see if I can help. Do ye know where she is?”

  “In her room. She willnae speak to me.”

  With a frown, Gavin rose, heartened at the bright grin that leapt to Jamie’s face. He strode up the stairs, confident he would hear nothing more than morning sickness or such she wished to keep from general knowledge. Though she refused to wed the laird, she has a good head on her shoulders and wouldnae mope about. His step quickened. What if there was a problem with the bairn? Surely she willnae put her life at risk. Everyone will know of the babe soon enough.

  He tapped lightly on her door and waited, but heard no answer. Testing the latch, he found it opened without protest. He stepped inside the room, hesitant lest he disturb or embarrass her. Or himself.

  Seated on the cushioned bench at the window, she glanced at him over her shoulder. Gavin stopped mid-stride, shock arresting him as he saw the drawn look to her face, the tired lines of her body. St. Andrew’s teeth! He swore under his breath. I should have taught that young whelp a lesson when I had a chance. She doesnae deserve this.

  He crossed the room and seated himself on the edge of the seat, an arm’s length from the temptation to soothe away her worries. “Och, lass. Is it as bad as all this? Where is the daring lass who stole her own cattle back from the reivers? Ye willnae marry the laird—ye have what ye want. Why the despondency?”

  His words had the desired effect. She drew herself up like a wildcat preparing to strike. “Dinnae tell me how to act. I have shouldered the burdens of this clan for nearly two years. I believe I have earned the right to a day or two of quiet—I certainly willnae have peace from the likes of ye.”

  “Ye are expecting a bairn for certain?”

  “Aye. But it doesnae change my decision on the marriage. I willnae marry Laird MacLaurey, nor will I tell him of the bairn.”

  Gavin’s eyebrows rose and he fought to keep his jaw from dropping open. “What do ye think he will do once he discovers he has a child?”

  Brianna shifted on the cushion, drawing her knees to her chin as she tucked her skirts about her feet. “He has too much on his mind setting Morven to rights. He isnae likely to consider me or Wyndham’s plight.”

  “Ye have no intention of telling him?”

  “Why complicate his life? He will marry a woman who will give him plenty of children. I willnae give up the bairn to him to raise, nor will I have him tugged back and forth between Wyndham and Morven, uncertain where home is.”

  Gavin was not taken in by her firm yet flippant statement. He had no doubt she would keep the bairn’s parentage a secret, but there was a sadness in her eyes that belied her attempt at bold detachment. “There is another side to this ye havenae spoken of. Tell me why, knowing ye carry his child, ye burned the marriage contract and sent him home with a flea in his ear.”

  He knew she heard him. Her fingers twisted in her lap even as she returned to stare out the window into the darkness. At last she faced him, and for the first time he realized how much the cares of her life weighed on her.

  “I saw him once when I was a lass. Golden-haired and charming. He had ridden to Wyndham with his da. There was some issue about buying horses. I was seven or eight at the time, but he was kind to me and dinnae mind when I followed him around as they studied each animal. I think I fell in love with him that day.”

  She sighed and shrugged. “But I had no choice in who I married, and we never crossed paths again. I heard the gossip, of his easy way with the lasses, yet believed I could be the one who settled him down. However, I was soon
married off to Mungo, and I quickly lost interest in dreaming about love—discovered it was a cruel faerie tale at best.”

  “Then why not give it a chance now?”

  “I wanted to. I did—eventually. But I still dinnae believe in love. I want nothing less than respect, and he cannae give me that.”

  “What of the bairn?”

  “I dinnae want tongues to wag. I suppose I could travel to my aunt who lives in Edinburgh. She is widowed and will likely take me in for a time. I could then bring the bairn back as the child of a deceased, distant cousin.”

  “But ye would leave Wyndham for months. That isnae what ye wanted.”

  “If I stay, I will need to marry quickly to keep the gossip from reaching his ears.”

  “How will ye do that?”

  “By doing what I should have considered years ago.”

  “What is that, lass?”

  She tilted her face to his, her gaze solemn. “Ask ye to marry me.”

  Chapter 25

  Late October, 1387, Wyndham

  Brianna sank onto the bench outside the stables as her knees gave way. Dizzy and nauseated, she covered her face with her hands to keep her world from spinning out of control. The sensation passed, and she rose slowly to her feet and made her way up the path to the hall. Gavin caught up with her as she entered the door, and his good-morning smile became a frown.

  “Are ye feeling unwell?”

  Brianna gave him a wan smile. “Nothing to worry about. Just the bairn making his presence known.”

  “A bout of sickness, then?”

  For reply, she cut off his words with an abrupt wave of her hand as she whirled and fled the room. Shivery sweat glistened on her forehead and trickled down her spine. Bracing her hand against the rough wooden wall of the privy, she waited for the nausea to pass.

  Why can I not be like other women and have this pass? I am nearly three months gone, and still cannae keep my breakfast down. The sensation passed, and she rose, scrubbing both palms against her skirts. She walked into the sunlight, pausing before she entered the hall. Too many curious eyes awaited her, and she turned back to the stable. Tam wandered to her side and thrust his cold nose against her hand with a whine.

  “Dinnae fash yerself, lad. Gavin and I have it all worked out.” He padded beside her into the building and flopped down on a pile of straw in the corner of the tack room. “We will wed next week and an early bairn willnae be taken amiss. Who would have thought I would have a bairn in the first place?”

  Pulling Maude’s blanket from a shelf, Brianna gathered needle and thread and a scrap of cloth to patch a worn spot in the fabric. She was sure to make a poor job of the busy work any stable lad could do, but it would take her mind off her stomach, and relieve her of the speculations in the hall.

  She eyed the blanket critically. Nowhere near perfect, the job was, however, done and she doubted the stable lads would ever breathe a word of complaint. She bit the heavy thread in half and rose to return the blanket to its shelf. Reaching high, she stood on her toes to give the blanket a final push into place. Tam gave a warning growl as the door opened behind her.

  Expecting Gavin or one of the stable lads, possibly even Jamie, she was unprepared for her visitor. The sight of Laird MacLaurey, his form filling the doorway, stole the breath from her lungs. She stood there a long moment, open-mouthed in surprise, until she collected her wits.

  “What are ye doing here?” she demanded over her racing heart.

  “Is it true? Ye are marrying Gavin?”

  Brianna stared at Conn, noting a haggardness about his eyes and mouth. The last time she’d seen him, he had been tired, even exhausted, but he hadn’t looked like this. She caught herself before she could feel sorry for him, and measured her words, aware her slightest slip would tell him about the bairn.

  “Aye. I am.”

  “Why?”

  Why, indeed? Her best answers were the ones she couldn’t give him, so she fell back onto the glib statement she and Gavin passed to anyone who asked. “Because we suit each other. We both have Wyndham’s good at heart, and it is time we both were married.” She shot him a cold look. “And we respect each other.”

  “Ye said ye dinnae need a husband.”

  “I have changed,” she lied smoothly.

  Conn snorted. “Like hell.”

  “I want to settle down, watch Jamie grow up, and know I will grow old with someone.” She cut her eyes away from his steely gaze. She could have had all of that with him, only she had been too proud and too angry to give it a chance.

  He eyed her critically, his gaze covering her from head to toe, and she felt heat creep up her neck. He scowled.

  “Have ye been ill? Ye look terrible.”

  “That sort of talk isnae likely to turn a lass’s head,” she replied tartly, not answering his question.

  “Ye appear to have lost weight. A good bit of weight.” He strode toward her and she stiffened as he circled her, inspecting her from every angle.

  Within seconds Brianna was seething, her foot tapping an impatient tattoo on the dirt floor. At last Conn came to a stop in front of her, standing much too close. She took a step backward, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Tam leaned against her legs and whined.

  “Are ye satisfied?” she snapped.

  “Nae. Answer my question. And call off yer dog.”

  She ignored his complaint about Tam. “’Tis none of yer concern, but I have been sick for a few days. I am fine now, but it was a stomach complaint and I did lose a bit of weight.”

  Conn shook his head. “Being sick a few days doesnae make ye look like this. Tell me the truth. Why are ye marrying Gavin?”

  Brianna flinched. What does he ask? Does he wish to know the truth of my illness or why I will marry Gavin? She felt the blood drain from her face. The answer to both questions is the same.

  She realized she still stared at him, and his eyes darkened, a sure indication of either passion or anger, and she was quite willing to bet this time it wasn’t passion. “I am marrying Gavin because he asked me to, and…and he loves me.” Belatedly, she remembered Conn had heard the words from Gavin himself three months earlier.

  “Are ye with child?” His stony look dared her to look away from him again. Anger rose in her, the leaping pulse in her throat betraying her. With a muttered curse, Conn reached for her, encircling her waist with his hands. He stared at his thumbs which refused to meet by a good hand’s breadth around her middle, then perused her again, a much closer inspection this time.

  “Ye are!” he ground between clenched teeth. “Ye not only look different, ye feel different.” His hands drifted upward, his palms against her breasts.

  Brianna hissed and Tam snarled as he launched himself at Conn in Brianna’s defense. “Keep yer hands to yerself, Connor MacLaurey!” she snarled, hauling Tam bodily back amid the sound of ripping cloth. “The bairn isnae yers!”

  “Ye lie!” he thundered as he grabbed his arm, his leine torn but his skin intact.

  “’Tis Gavin’s,” she lied boldly, refusing to drop eye contact. He nodded his head once and took a step backward, then pivoted abruptly to the door. Once his back was turned, she whirled to face the wall, drained of all energy. She braced herself against the wooden boards, one hand twisted in Tam’s thick fur, her eyes closed tight as she waited to hear Conn’s footsteps in the hall.

  A hand clamped onto her shoulder, and her eyes flew open in fright. Tam wriggled in her grasp, but she held him firm as Conn’s voice sounded low in her ear.

  “If ye have lied to me, ye will wish the sheriff had hanged ye on the gallows,” he snarled. “Is the bairn mine?”

  Brianna struggled to find her breath as she held Tam tight against her. “Nae.”

  Without another word, Conn released her. He was gone in an instant, slamming the door behind him. Tam tore away, barking as he flung himself against the closed portal. Hot tears slid down Brianna’s cheeks. St. Andrew’s blue bollocks! What a mess!

 
She did not fear his retribution. She knew him well enough and he wouldn’t take out his wrath on a woman. But she knew now she couldn’t live with not telling him. The question was, how to say the words? She’d asked for his trust and respect, but when put to the test, she fell as short as he.

  Chapter 26

  Gavin glanced across the practice field toward the stable. Worry lines creased his forehead. She shouldnae still be in there. Her sickness has her weaker than she will admit, and that mare of hers is a handful. He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his forearm and froze, noticing a strange horse standing in the shade of a tree near the stable. Squinting against the glare of the sun, he saw the horse shake its glorious black mane and instantly recognized Conn’s bay stallion. Gavin sprinted to the barn, his heart pounding in his chest.

  Conn burst through the doorway, slamming the door with angry force behind him. He saw Gavin and whirled toward him, smoothing the torn sleeve of his leine.

  “Why is she lying about the bairn?” he demanded.

  “I dinnae know her to lie,” Gavin replied carefully, assessing the likelihood Conn received the worst of his discussion with Brianna—and Tam.

  Conn sneered. “Ye would make an admirable diplomat. Can no one here state the truth?”

  Gavin took a deep breath, damping down the tremendous urge to start a brawl neither could win. Though a handful of years older than the laird, they were too well matched in size and brawn, and Conn was frustrated and angry, two traits likely to tip the odds in his favor.

  “I will stand by what she has told ye. And remind ye she neither likes nor respects ye.”

  Conn flinched. “So I have been told.”

  “She is also certain, should ye decide the bairn is yers, ye will take him from her.”

  Conn stared at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. “I wouldnae take the bairn away from her. She may grow vexed with the sight of me, and I would expect him to know I am his father. But I wouldnae take him from her. I couldnae do that.”