Highland Treasure

by Mary McCall

"You what?” he ground out.

  "'Tis just...you are so much bigger and...and stronger than my father, and I...I fear if you ever hit me...'twould bloody well kill me.” Her last stammered words barely reached him as she bowed her head.

  Leonce signaled to Aonghus and Bowyn, and the two men left. Approaching slowly, he reached toward Hope. She flinched but didn't back away. With the crook of his forefinger, he raised her face. A plea for freedom shimmered in her eyes.

  "I'm not your father. And I have already given you my promise that I'll not harm you.” He caressed her trembling lips with a finger. “The first duty of a wife is to trust her husband. Can you do that?"

  "Don't know, but if I had a husband, I would want to."

  "Well, you have one, so try.” A gentle smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He caressed a knuckle along her jaw, wondering how long it would take for her internal wounds to heal. “'Tis lowering to have you fear being married to me."

  "Why did you do it?” Hope asked, her gaze focused on his mouth.

  "A number of reasons. You returned my son to me. You returned Justice to The MacPherson. You're a bonnie, brave woman in a strange land, and you need my protection.” He grinned, wanting to lighten her mood. “If you think about it, ‘tis great revenge against your father."

  "But what about Mildread?"

  "You ask me that after seeing her strike Bertie?"

  "Oh...” She shook her head, but her eyes wouldn't move their gaze. She licked her lips. “I will try not to disappoint you too much."

  He noticed her fascination and gifted her with a slow, satisfied grin. “You won't."

  He slipped a hand behind her neck and lowered his mouth upon hers. One of her hands slid up to his shoulder while the other splayed against his chest. Her body quavered. He pulled her closer and pressed her pelvis against his while massaging one nicely rounded buttock.

  He slipped his tongue between her lips and rubbed it along her teeth. Hope tilted her head, and he saw her jaw relax. He plunged his tongue inside her mouth and felt a ripple of glorious exhilaration rush through her body. She slipped her arms around him and rose up on her toes.

  Inciting such an enthusiastic response from her untried passions sent lust surging through his loins. He set her back, breaking the kiss. “'Tis best not to start something we cannot finish. Your back is still too tender."

  She raised her fingers to her lips, again gazing at his.

  Leonce chuckled. “'Tis glad I am to know you enjoy my kissing."

  She blushed, bright red, and kept staring.

  "If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to have you here and now, so let's get you home."

  "Wait!” Hope raised a hand to her brow and closed her eyes, then looked into his. “I was serious about not knowing what to do. Would you tell me?"

  His smile faded.

  "Even if you're not going to beat me, ‘tis the truth, I would still rather not anger you."

  He nodded once. “Then ‘tis wise you ask. You'll see the keep runs in order. Freya can help you with that. You'll take care of my chamber and belongings—cleaning, mending and such things. Each evening I expect to sit down to a well-prepared meal with you by my side. You'll share my bed, give me children, and, most importantly, you'll always obey me and trust me. Do you have any questions?"

  She shook her head, and her expression grew calm.

  He felt heartened by her acceptance of her new circumstances. “Then come. Since you have bathed, you'll need more salve and balm. Then I expect you to rest."

  He held out a hand. She stared at his open palm and placed her hand in his. He closed his grip about her trembling fingers, and her gaze fastened on their joined hands. Leonce realized that, despite her tranquil countenance, she still feared him.

  He picked a couple of heather sprigs and held them out to her. “A remembrance of our wedding, Lady MacPherson."

  Hope tentatively accepted the flowers. “My thanks. I will treasure them until the moment of my death."

  Hearing an anxious inflection in her pitch as she spoke of her death on their wedding day worried Leonce. Not knowing what else he could do to set her mind at ease, he whistled for his mount and carried her home.

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  Chapter Nine

  * * * *

  Hope lay on the massive bed, staring out the window at the treetops. Leonce had left her with orders to rest. Though her body relaxed, her mind raced. Fate had mocked her quest for happiness by handing her over to a man's control.

  She didn't want to die today, but how could she remain here subject to a man's whims?

  Zounds, but his hands felt glorious when he rubbed her back. She didn't need the balm anymore, just the salve for her wounds. But she enjoyed his touch so much she couldn't bring herself to tell him. And his kiss...why, his mouth sent more thrills through her than winning a bait game against a wild beast. Never had she imagined a man could taste so fine or make her feel so alive. She wasn't going to kill herself if he could make her feel that wonderful again.

  Her thoughts drifted to her father. She had tended many victims of his abuses, along with those of the other men who visited the Nevilles's holding. Though her mother had told her most men were otherwise, she had never encountered any. Could The MacPherson prove her mother right?

  He had made himself into a legend, raiding his way through northern England—no doubt searching for the Norman who had slaughtered his clansmen. Her cursed father so feared The Roarin’ MacPherson might attack that he doubled his guard by hiring mercenaries.

  Why was The Lion being kind to her? He knew her father was responsible for the slaughter, yet he not only sheltered her, he also honored her by making her his wife. He treated her as if he wanted her to feel she belonged here, and his promise not to harm her included her mind as well as her body.

  Could she trust him to control his temper if she angered him? It should happen soon, considering her cursed duties. She knew naught about running a keep. Keeping his chamber clean and serving good meals she could handle, but sewing, satisfying his lusts and obeying him were beyond her. And when he got riled, she would probably lose her own temper.

  Why had he not asked for games or stories or hunting or anything she was good at? Even tending his ills, she could handle. And why had he not asked for her heart? Her mother had said love was the most important thing about marriage, and a union was horrid without it.

  She wanted to love and be loved, not just coexist with someone, even if he wasn't going to beat her. The Lion would just have to accept her heart, because she wasn't going to stay without giving it to him. He would have to love her in return too.

  Hope rolled onto her side and groaned. Getting him to love her might take a long time. She was no prize. There were many skills she must master. It would probably help if she acted like she wanted to be married to him. He was cursed miffed with her earlier behavior.

  Zounds, but her manners would be a problem!

  Zounds again! For some reason she truly wanted Leonce to love her. That was the only thing that would make her feel as if she belonged, especially with the whole clan hating her. Why, after the wedding, as Leonce brought her back to the keep, his clansmen had shown their contempt by turning away. Mayhap not the whole clan. Two men had smiled like they were pleased when their chief married her, and Freya seemed kind enough. Bertie would rejoice when he knew of the marriage.

  "I have a family!” Hope sprang from the bed. “I'll start making up to him for my manners right now. ‘Tis our wedding day, and our first meal will be a celebration feast.” Her gaze landed on her whip, and she narrowed her eyes. “And I know just who will be our main course."

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  Chapter Ten

  * * * *

  Leonce and Aonghus caught up with the hunters in the southwest forest and spent a few hours in pursuit of futility. All the boar's tracks were at least a day old. The hunting party was frustrated that the killer eluded them after
so many weeks. With the warriors on edge and bickering amongst themselves, Leonce bid them return to the mountain so they could revive their drooping spirits and start afresh the next morn.

  He had another motive. Hope wasn't pleased that he had manipulated her into marriage. She feared him and her loss of freedom. His clan didn't plan to make life easy for her either. Their rudeness drove her to hide her face against his chest during their ride up the mountain. While he hadn't expected rejoicing, their open scorn infuriated him. He intended to spend time with her and help her get over her fears.

  The hunting party reached the meadow, and Aonghus pulled up alongside Leonce. “Appears we have a Fraser for company, lad. Do you know her?"

  A petite young woman with shoulder-length black hair raced toward them. Leonce halted his steed and awaited her. “'Tis Ian's wife. He'll surely be along. He has not left her long enough for a good raid since he got her."

  Aonghus sat back on his mount. “Appears to be a delicate little lass."

  Leonce chuckled. “That delicate little lass almost killed Ian with his own great sword two weeks after he got her home."

  "That wee creature lifted Fortitude?” Aonghus asked amazed, and Leonce nodded. “Now there is a tale these old ears would love to hear."

  The Fraser charged into the meadow as his wife stopped in front of Leonce.

  "Where is she, MacPherson?” Flashing green eyes brimmed with angry tears.

  "And good day to you, Lady Fraser.” Leonce nodded cordially.

  She shook her fist, waving a ribbon under his chin. “You'll not put me off! If you have hurt her, I will—"

  "'Twould help if you would tell me of whom you speak,” Leonce said and realized Lady Fraser must be Hope's friend. “Are you Cassie?"

  "You know—"

  "Damn it, woman! Don't ever ride off like that again!” Pulling alongside his wife, Ian, The Fraser, wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her onto his lap.

  She gripped a handful of his auburn mane, nearly ripping the hair from his scalp. “Wait, Ian! She is hurt or needs help!"

  He grunted and reclaimed his hair. “Who is hurt?"

  "Hope. She is here, but he'll not tell me!"

  At his wife's near hysteria, Ian's anger fled upon a sigh. “Is there a Lady Hope here, Leonce? From the tales Cass told me, I'm hoping you'll say aye."

  "Aye, but she is Lady MacPherson now."

  "Nay, she would not!” Cassie yelled.

  "Aye, she did, lass.” Aonghus nudged his mount forward. “Married the lad a few hours ago in this very meadow."

  "Where is she?” Cassie demanded.

  "I left Hope napping. She had a hard journey and is weary."

  "Do not tell me you left her alone with a weapon nearby!” Cassie appeared horrified, and Ian pulled her fingernails from his chest.

  Leonce frowned. “She needs rest. Her fa—"

  "Hope will kill herself, MacPherson! ‘Twas a vow she made three years ago to do so if any man tried to claim her. Hope always keeps her vows.” Cassie choked back fresh tears. “And she wouldn't have sent me a message asking for help if she had planned to wed you today."

  "I saw no messenger,” Ian said.

  "Well, there was one.” Cassie waved the ribbon under Ian's nose.

  A shrill scream echoed through the hills. The hairs on the nape of Leonce's neck prickled.

  Cassie clutched Ian's plaid. “Ah, Ian, ‘tis Hope!"

  "Quiet, wife.” Ian placed a hand over her mouth. “We need the last echo."

  The entire party remained silent until the last sound faded.

  "She is on top of the mountain, lad,” Aonghus shouted.

  "Aye. ‘Twill be quickest to take the main path to the keep and climb from the back on foot.” Leonce charged toward the mountain.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eleven

  * * * *

  Arriving at the kitchen behind the keep, Hope dropped her bow and arrows on the ground, dismounted, and leaned against Diable until she was able to support her weight on her throbbing leg. Fanning the burning embers of wrath numbed her pain. She had never killed a man, but she was about to start...with her cursed husband!

  Hope loosed the rope from Diable's neck. Jeannie, the short, pudgy cook, rushed out of the kitchen, took one look at the huge gray carcass, and stopped in her tracks with her jaw hanging slack. Hope rolled her eyes. “The swine is for dinner. You know what to do with the beast?"

  Jeannie nodded, staring at the dead boar.

  "Good. From the look on your face, I wondered if I would have to skin him and cook him too. Would you bring me an apple, please?"

  The cook nodded again, but didn't move. Hope walked on stiff legs to the dead creature that Diable had pulled down the mountain for her. She freed the rope and coiled it. Turning back, she snorted, went past the dumbstruck cook into the kitchen, and came out with an apple.

  "Diable, my friend, ‘twas a horrid game, but at least we won.” She stroked the glossy black coat while the stallion ate the offered fruit. “My thanks for the ride and help with the beast. I wouldn't have made it back on this cursed leg if you hadn't come. Best hurry so I can tend it."

  Diable smacked his lips, kissed her cheek, and trotted off into the forest.

  "Guard yourself well, my beauty.” Hope picked up her weapons and the rope. She walked toward the back door of the keep, taking measured strides. She nurtured her rage until she felt the embers ready to spark, sending the last of her pain to oblivion.

  Her cursed, bloody, rotten husband had traps!

  Freya met her at the rear entrance. “I heard your scream, milady. Are you all right?"

  "I am fine, Freya.” Hope gave the woman a tight smile. After all, this fury was for her chief. “Would you please take these to my chamber along with two bowls of fresh water and some linens?"

  "Aye.” Freya accepted the rope and arrows, but Hope didn't unclench her white-knuckled fist from the bow. “Anything else, milady?"

  "Have you seen the chief?"

  Freya's brows gathered. “He left to hunt the southwest forest, but I'm sure the echoes of your scream reached him. He should return any moment."

  "My thanks.” Hope entered the back of the hall just as Leonce rushed through the front door. Her embers burst into flames. She ignored the people milling about and those who followed him inside. She saw only the object of her fury.

  "MacPherson!” Her bellow fairly shook the rafters. She placed her fists on her hips in a challenging pose, still clutching her bow. Light flashed from the dirk in her belt, drawing attention to her coiled whip. She appeared a fierce she-warrior sizing up her next kill.

  Leonce stopped near the center of the hall and gaped at Hope incredulously. “Did you actually yell at me?"

  "You are either near deaf or daft if you have to ask, Lion."

  A collective gasp reverberated throughout the hall, as if bystanders wondered if their chief would have to bury his wife on their wedding day.

  Leonce balled his fists at his sides and took a step forward. He halted in shock when Hope brazenly approached, stopped an arm's length in front of him, and poked his chest with her bow. “Do not even think about beating me, or I'll bloody well cancel this marriage. I remembered something we haven't done, and this cursed farce isn't final yet."

  "In addition to yelling, you dare to threaten me?” Leonce asked in a voice smooth as well-polished steel.

  "I'll bloody well do more than threaten if you don't get those cursed traps off the mountain!” Hope angrily swept the bow in an arc, indicating the mountain behind her.

  "Gentle your tone when you speak to me, wife."

  "I'll not gentle my tone until I'm bloody well ready, and that will not be until every rotten trap is gone!"

  "We have a murdering boar out there, woman!” Leonce bellowed.

  "Nay, you don't!"

  "And just what the hell do you think has been on the killing spree around here the last several weeks!"

&nbs
p; Hope narrowed her eyes. She leaned toward him and lowered her voice, adding menace to her harassment. “'Twas a big, despicable, hoary Highland swine. I might say the surly lion standing afore me reminds me of the rogue, but my mother told me never to speak ill of the dead.” Her volume increased again. “And your cursed traps almost cost me my kill!"

  She closed her fist and punched into his granite-hard belly. Hope frowned and shook her throbbing hand. Hell, her hand probably hurt worse than his sinewy gut.

  "Cost you your...” Leonce's face drained of color. “You killed it?"

  She snorted. “Do I look dead? Of course I won. ‘Twas him or me. And I bloody well owed the beastie for half scaring me out of my wits the day I got here. I left his carcass by the kitchen so Jeannie could prepare his rotten gray rump for dinner."

  Bowyn ran past her out the rear door.

  Hope remembered her intentions for the meal, and her shoulders slumped. “Bloody rot, MacPherson. Since we wed today, I wanted to have a special feast to please you. Now I'm acting like a cursed heathen, and you're angry with me when I only followed your orders."

  Leonce took a deep breath and gritted out, “What orders?"

  "To have a well-prepared evening meal. I went to get some meat, thinking I would have to flush out at least a hundred hares with all the people around here. Then I stumbled upon fresh boar track not thirty yards behind the keep. I was certain the Good Lord's angels must be guiding me. ‘Tis the truth, pigs feed more.” She furrowed her brow. “I hoped it would give me time to figure out whatever it is I need to get in order. And I would appreciate it if you would get rid of the traps, or at least mark them.” Hope nodded to herself. That sounded reasonably civilized, didn't it?

  "You are not to hunt."

  Hope frowned. “How can I make sure you have a well-prepared meal if I don't hunt? We'll have no meat."

  "Meat is provided every day. Men hunt for it, and women cook it."

  "Zounds!” Hope slapped a palm against her cheek. “The Good Lord must have spent too much time making you that bloody brawn and handsome, for He ran out afore putting in your brains. That is the most asinine thing I ever heard."