Possession of a Highlander

by Madeline Martin

Her uncle. Anxiety threaded her body once more.

  “Ye dinna need to worry about him.” Colin’s thumb swept across her face, a slight, tender touch.

  The acidic churning in her belly could not be soothed so easily. If her uncle dug up an empty grave, he would have Edzell in his grasp. “My uncle will stop at nothing—”

  The bed shifted and Colin’s warmth settled beside her. “Not even the king would issue such permission, Brianna. To do something so vile would be to go against God himself.”

  He spoke with a conviction that made her want to believe him. She would look up the laws later when she was alone, to confirm for herself the protections in place.

  “Ye’re too pale. Are ye sure ye’re well?”

  Her fingertips caressed the smooth emerald on her finger. She had grown accustomed to the ring’s weight, and felt reassurance in its tight embrace.

  “My uncle accused you of murder, Colin.” She blinked slowly against the squeeze of her heart. “Publicly.”

  He chuckled. “It takes more than a few feeble words to frighten me. Dinna worry yerself, wife. I have no ever found myself in a place I canna get out of.” He lowered his voice to a gentle burr. “But I dinna think that is all that weighs on yer mind.”

  She stared at the muted blue bedding beneath her. Words burned in her throat, trapped, and her vision blurred.

  His hand covered hers and his comforting scent embraced her, encouraging the tears she fought so hard to keep at bay. She let his fingers tilt her face so she met his warm stare once more. In the beautiful green depths of his eyes shone an unyielding strength, one she shamelessly borrowed.

  “My heart aches with guilt.” Her throat strained to speak around the swell of threatening tears. “I did an awful thing. I lied for weeks, and now the earl pays the price of my deception with the grievous dishonor of a pauper’s burial.”

  “Ye did it to protect yer people. There is no shame in that.” His tone was calm, as if he were afraid of frightening her.

  She shook her head vigorously and did not bother to wipe the strand of hair clinging to her cheek. “I was selfish.” Her stomach knotted at the confession, and the ache blossomed to a fierce blaze within her chest. “I did not want to give up my freedom.”

  He tugged her toward him and coaxed her head to his chest with a subtle caress of her cheek. She wilted against him and succumbed to the weight of her heavy, swollen eyelids.

  “Ye had no other option unless ye wed yer cousin, and I think having him as laird would be as bad as yer uncle ruling, aye?” His hand moved in soothing circles against her back. “Ye did what was necessary to preserve the safety and comfort of yer servants. I know ye are ashamed of yerself, lass, but ye shouldna be.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m proud of ye.”

  “Proud of deception? Of placing him in an unmarked grave?” she choked out.

  “Of saving yer people, Brianna. Of salvaging yer home. Now dinna worry about it any longer. I’m yer husband—let the worry fall on my shoulders, aye?”

  He leaned back and tilted her chin so she looked up at him. “Aye?” he repeated.

  She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice, not wanting to push her burden to another.

  His hand skimmed her hair. “Ye hold back yer sorrow.” His brow wrinkled. “Do ye feel I’ll think less of ye if ye cry?”

  “It would be foolish to cry. I’ve already mourned his loss.” Traitorous tears blurred her vision.

  “I dinna think ye have.” He rested his chin on the top of her head and curled his body around her. “And I willna think less of ye for it.”

  His soft words were all the encouragement she needed. Her face pressed into the protection he offered, and she surrendered to the searing press inside her. Her heart bled out hot tears that dissolved against his leine.

  She did not only weep for the father who never accepted her. She wept for the loss of Bernard and the grisly death he endured. She wept for the lies she’d been forced to tell to keep her people safe. She wept for the life her mother had been forced into and for the burden of shame they had both endured.

  And there Brianna cried, taking comfort in the arms of a husband she had never wanted.

  • • •

  Colin braced his weight on his elbow and studied Brianna’s profile. She had finally fallen asleep. Her eyes were swollen from tears too long pent-up, and red still tinged her nose and cheeks. His chest tightened.

  Burying her father had been difficult for her, more so than she realized.

  He rubbed a tense area at the base of his neck. Now that Brianna was calmed, he had another issue to sort through—Lindsay’s public accusation of murder.

  Colin absently massaged the knot from his muscle and let his head fall back against the wall.

  Bitter men with little to lose and everything to gain were the most dangerous, especially ones who held Parliament’s ear. And men like Reginald Lindsay had a way of winning favor.

  The guards stationed around the castle would need to be doubled for a while to keep vigilant for suspicious activity. While Colin was innocent, he was not sure what loose ends Brianna may have inadvertently left behind. Her uncle would latch onto anything he could find and use it to his advantage.

  Colin knew men like Lindsay. He would not be caught off-guard by underhanded tricks.

  Brianna curled her legs against her chest with a soft sigh. An unfamiliar warmth heated Colin’s stomach and a smile rose on his lips. Her nose rounded slightly at the tip, the sensual shape of her plump lips tempting him even in slumber. Careful not to wake her, he stretched a hand toward her and stroked the velvety softness of her cheek.

  They had only been married for a few days, yet he found himself thinking of her more frequently than he thought possible.

  A delicate line appeared on her brow, the line that always seemed present. The line that indicated she worked too hard.

  The last months of her father’s illness must have been difficult. She’d had to do the work of a man, and those efforts exacted a heavy toll.

  Her worry needed to be eased and her burden lifted. She needed his strength to see Edzell to right after her ordeal, to ensure all remained safe. His fingertip skimmed the delicate crease on her brow. He knew how to clear the troubles from her mind, and how to prove himself worthy to his family as well.

  His father would need proof Colin could manage an estate, keep its people happy, and see the taxes paid and the villagers flourish. All things he knew he could accomplish successfully.

  Renewed vigor pumped through him. Tomorrow would bring a new day and a new beginning. A chance at a life he was otherwise denied.

  Tomorrow, Colin would claim full duty as laird and free Brianna of her obligations.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brianna stole down the halls, each footstep chased by the overloud swish of her velvet skirts. Clouds hung heavy outside, and a resigned gray sagged over Edzell Castle.

  Colin had not been there when she woke, nor was he practicing with the men outside. Truth be told, she was eager to see him. He’d been a steady foothold in her turbulent world of chaos the previous day, like one of Camelot’s chivalrous knights protecting his fair lady.

  She rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. The door to her solar stood ajar.

  Alarm tingled at the base of her neck.

  Had someone entered without permission?

  The shushed whisper of a page being turned floated from the room. A gentle rustle of parchment, as if it were being flipped through.

  She clamped her fingers to her lips to squelch the cry that threatened to tear from her throat. Was someone going through her documents? Had someone broken into her home and her private solar to uncover her affairs?

  The contents in her stomach roiled. Her uncle’s men, perhaps?

  She should call the guards and order the grounds swept for any other intruders. However, by then the person may have already left.

  Her pulse raced frantically in her temples. She cr
ept closer and peered through the narrow crack between the door and its frame. Her pounding heart ceased and dropped into her stomach.

  Colin sat at her desk, in her chair, surrounded by the ledgers in which she had so carefully noted every purchase, every payment of tax, every rent received.

  Her shaky indrawn breath was so loud, she thought surely he might hear. Alas, he was too busy poring over countless hours of her painstaking labor.

  His finger traced down the page and his eyebrows rose. The quill perched in his hand scratched over the parchment beside him.

  What a fool she had been to think he was different from her other suitors. Yet here he sat, reviewing his fortune, prying open the very core of her life without having ever asked permission.

  Part of her wanted to run from the discovery, to find solace in the comfort of her mother’s tiny reading room. But there was another part of her, a greater part, that demanded an explanation.

  She pressed her palm against the door and pushed it open. “I see you’ve been busy this morning.”

  His head jerked up and a wide smile lit his face. “Ah, my bonny wife.”

  Her gaze deliberately fell on the ledgers surrounding him, silently demanding justification. He rose from the chair, oblivious, and stretched his arms back behind him with a yawn.

  The book on the desk lay opened to the very page she had written when he became her Captain of the Guard, the paltry income scribed next to the position in tall, ornate numbers.

  “Ye slept so well, I dinna care to wake ye.” He made his way toward her with a proud tilt to his jaw.

  Captain of the Guard.

  The title churned in her mind. Colin had insisted on the position, yet he was a laird’s son. He had no need of the income or the title.

  Her cheeks burned beneath the frantic tap of her heart.

  He’d used his place as a servant to encourage her affection and persuade her lust with graceful fingers and skilled words.

  Ignorant to her thoughts, he leaned over her, his intent apparent in the way he angled his mouth toward hers. She turned her head to the side and presented her cheek for his kiss rather than her lips.

  He had lied to her about who he was because he had intended to woo her all along. Where other men had failed, he succeeded, because he was far more clever.

  And she was the fool.

  His lips pressed to her cheek after a brief pause.

  She looked behind him to where the desk lay scattered with private matters and notes of accounts she had taken upon herself to see guarded. All the work and time of a full year bared to the mercy of his ravenous eyes. No matter what charming words he would attempt to wrap the scene in, she saw it for what it was.

  The inspection of his newfound wealth.

  • • •

  The thundering silence coupled with the sharp glint in Brianna’s eye cautioned Colin from naming a paltry excuse for his presence in the solar.

  He did not have to turn around to know what she saw. Ledgers had been pulled from their respective shelves and laid on the desk. His efforts to understand where the accounts stood before assuming his place as laird would not be seen as innocent.

  The tight lines around her eyes and mouth told him this. The cheek she’d presented him with confirmed it.

  “Ye’re tired.” His words were justification to himself as much as explanation to her. “I’ll have someone fetch ye some broth and Magda can tuck ye back into bed—where ye need to be.”

  “And let you handle all my accounts?” Her arms folded over her chest.

  “I mean to help ye. Ye’ve taken on too much for too long. Ye dinna have a choice, I know. But this is men’s work, the work of a husband, and I intend to take care of all of it. Ye need no ever worry about anything again.”

  Her eyes flashed with something he couldn’t name, not that he needed a name to know what it meant. He was in trouble.

  “You’ll take care of everything?” Her voice was harsh, grinding out the words as if it were physically painful to do so. “And what of me? Do you expect me to sit in a room, pregnant, while I sew pretty tapestries?”

  Answering yes would be a bad idea.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. That damned spot had drawn tight again. “Ye dinna have to sew if ye dinna want to. Ye can do whatever pleases ye.”

  Her lips thinned and locked all words from his ears.

  Colin reached for her arm. “I’m just trying to help ye.”

  She jerked away from him. “By going through my ledgers,” she surmised. “I don’t need your help.” Her chin raised in a show of defiance. “I don’t need you.”

  Colin tried to ignore the way her barb caught at his chest, the way her frosted gaze cut through him. “Ye’ve taken on too much and canna expect to do everything without help.” He shook his head. “Even a laird has a steward and a wife to split the burden ye’ve assumed.”

  She pulled something from the folds of her dress. A flash of gold winked between her fingers before she drew her arm back and threw it at him. A heavy ring bounced harmlessly off his shoulder and clattered to the ground.

  “Take your ring of office, laird. You’ve earned it.” She backed toward the door. “I only request that rather than follow me, you stay with your ledgers and see how wealthy you’ve made yourself.”

  She spun into the hallway in a swirl of gold velvet and slammed the door shut behind her.

  Colin lifted the ring from the ground. The Lindsay checkered crest was set in grooves upon its wide surface. He looked up and stared at the bolted door where Brianna had stood only seconds before, her words stuck in his heart like a thorn.

  The land he sought came at a higher cost than anticipated.

  • • •

  Brianna stalked the narrow length of her room. The overcast skies left crowded shadows stretching across the walls and floors. Moisture swelled in the air and stuck in her chest. Was this how it started? The very hell she had sought all her adult life to avoid.

  She glared at their door in silent challenge. Heaven help Colin if he ignored her warning and followed her into the room.

  When the door did not open, a flicker of disappointment only served to fuel her rage.

  He’d stripped her of her authority, banished her to a lifetime of women’s work. He crushed the light from her soul the same as her father had done to her mother.

  What would Colin do next? Intercept her correspondence and burn it?

  An image of smoldering letters ripped through her mind, wax seals melting upon the hearth like thick pools of blood. Her mother’s fingers clawed, outstretched toward the curling parchment despite their ruined state. The glint of satisfaction in her father’s gaze while his soldiers held her back.

  Brianna’s fist pressed into her flat abdomen. Would Colin restrict her visits with their children? Punish her before them so that they might learn a lesson from her disobedience? A ragged gasp choked from her throat.

  She could not allow her child to endure what she had.

  A merciful breeze stirred the curtains and carried in the comforting scent of roses, a sweet balm to the pain in her heart.

  Brianna made her way to the window, where the flowers climbed the lattice and bloomed against the castle walls. A heavy blossom grew beside her windowsill, vibrant red in the gray light. She cupped her hand beneath its weight. The petals were like fine silk against her fingertips.

  What would her mother say if she were here now? Would she lend courage? Incite further rebellion?

  Brianna caressed a petal with the pad of her thumb. Her mother’s words echoed in her head, the very ones she’d recited to Brianna again and again through her childhood.

  Wield knowledge and you can never be disarmed.

  What knowledge would aid Brianna now? What must she learn to better her life? To prevent her enslavement to marriage?

  Determination straightened her spine. There was a way to reclaim her freedom. It just had to be found.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

&
nbsp; The wooden door was heavily banded with iron. More so than all the other doors in the castle, Colin noticed. A door meant to be locked were it not for the twisted mass of metal where a keyhole had once been.

  “Are you sure this is it?” he asked Magda.

  She squinted at the door. “It is.” Her fingers twisted against one another. “I only show you this because I know you intend to help her.”

  “Thank ye, Magda. I give ye my word that I willna read her correspondence.”

  Her soft blue eyes met his. “I trust you.”

  She pushed against the door and it opened with a low, haunting groan, revealing a walled enclosure that could hardly be described as a chamber.

  Colin entered the small room, its plain stone walls devoid of the elaborate paint of others. The space was barely large enough to contain the narrow desk and several book shelves. A large, inset window occupied the eastern wall and provided a cushioned bench so one might sit and stare outside. There was no latch. The paned glass could not be opened.

  “Why would she stay in here?” he asked.

  “This was her mother’s study. It isn’t much, but the countess did not have many pleasures allow—” Magda pursed her lips and folded her hands together at her waist. “Your wife now spends her time here.”

  He glanced at the partially filled parchment on the desk. It appeared to be a letter of some sort. “Does she do business here as well?”

  “No, she typically uses it for her studies and reading.” Brianna’s nurse turned toward him. “But if there is a missing ledger, this would be the only place it might be.”

  What he sought must contain the most recent statement of accounts, as none were uncovered in his assessment of the property, and its standing.

  “Thank ye, Magda. Ye’ve been most helpful.”

  The lines across her brow deepened. “I’m afraid that is not always the case.”

  He opened his mouth to protest when her dry fingers settled atop his. “You will always be there for her, to protect her. Knowing she will be safe gives me great comfort.” A wistful smile touched her lips. “You’re a good man, Colin MacKinnon.” Her hand slipped from his. “Summon me if you need anything further.”