The Highlander's Stolen Bride

by Melanie George

  Thirteen

  R osalyn regarded her reflection in the long oval mirror in her bedroom. She had thought that she might look different now that she was officially a mistress, but while the face looking back at her was somewhat wan, she appeared the same girl that she had been the day before.

  She took her time dressing, eating her breakfast in her room while preparing herself to face Derek after their night of lovemaking. Wonderful lovemaking, she amended, the memory bringing a shiver to her skin.

  Derek had been gone when she awoke, and though she knew this was for the best, she had felt oddly hurt. When he had not been bringing her body to the heights of ecstasy last night, he had cradled her in his arms and they had talked about their lives.

  She had learned how Derek had acquired the small scar on his forearm when he caught himself with a fishing hook when he was eight, and he discovered her penchant for wearing men’s breeches when no one was looking. He had vowed to pilfer a pair for her from his stableboy, who was about her size.

  Derek made her feel safe; Rosalyn wished she could do the same for him. They had not spoken about the incident that had taken place in the east corridor. Derek had accused his brother, and while Rosalyn could see how much Ethan enjoyed goading Derek, she had also glimpsed hurt in Ethan’s eyes. Even if she had read Ethan wrong, he couldn’t have bashed Derek on the head and been at her bedroom door at nearly the same time, could he?

  Something wasn’t right. She could feel it in her bones. Several times the day before she had felt eyes on her, only to turn and find no one there. Yet the sensation remained.

  But enough of that. She had to stop hiding in her room and face Derek. She had to know if he felt differently about her now that they had been intimate.

  She opened her bedroom door and headed down the corridor. The surroundings had all been a blur the day before. Now she took a moment to admire it all.

  Some might find the walls dark and spartan, but she saw the history behind the ceiling-high tapestries. Though faded over the years, they were amazing works of art. Battle-axes and shields with clan insignia showed Scottish pride and honor, characteristics so strong in Derek. Rosalyn could see in his eyes how much Castle Gray and its people meant to him.

  She felt a stab of heartache for the loss of her own family.

  Her mother had mentioned a great-aunt once. Perhaps the woman was still alive? She would be very old if she was, but she might enjoy having a relative around to keep her company in her twilight years. Rosalyn could offer her services as a companion; many unmarried women had such a life. In time she would forget about Derek. Forget about how he had made her body thrum and her heart do strange, wonderful things.

  “Such heavy thoughts for so early in the morning.”

  Startled, Rosalyn found herself face to face with Ethan. She had been subjected to his wild ways more than once, but she didn’t think he meant any harm by his antics. Sometimes he seemed genuinely lonely. It had to be hard being an outcast.

  “I frightened you, I see,” he said, seeming apologetic. “I didn’t mean to. I thought you heard me coming. My brother is fond of telling me I tromp like an elephant.”

  “I was absorbed in the artistry of this wall hanging. Is it Flemish?”

  Ethan eyed the tapestry with obvious distaste. “Scandinavian, thirteenth century. It was given to one of my ancestors as a gift by some member of royalty. If it were mine, I would use it as a horse blanket. But alas, Derek has an unnatural fondness for the thing—probably because I loathe it. Anything to irritate me, you know.”

  “Do you really believe he devotes that much time to this animosity you two share?”

  “The man does have other pursuits, like women. He really is quite fond of them.”

  Had Ethan intended his comment to be a direct hit, he would have been dead on. Rosalyn suspected females flocked to Derek, but he had told her there was no other woman in his life, and she had believed him.

  “Frankly,” Ethan went on, “the least of his concerns are this house and his people. Yet for reasons I’ll never understand, the latter adore him, the little sheep.”

  Rosalyn didn’t believe the bitterness in Ethan’s voice was directed entirely at Derek. “Have you ever considered that if you liked the villagers more, they might like you more in return?”

  Ethan scoffed. “Why do I care if those filthy cretins like me? They have no impact on my life.”

  “But obviously Derek does, or you wouldn’t feel the need to continue the hostility.”

  A glimmer of anger passed briefly over his face before his lips tipped up in his patented half-grin. “Was that your kind way of telling me I’ve become a boor? I agree wholeheartedly. Why I insist on talking about the lad, when I’ve got you all to myself, is a mystery for the ages.”

  He unexpectedly took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Forgive me,” he murmured as he lightly kissed the back of her hand. “I’d like to show you how well behaved and charming I can truly be. Would you like to see the stables? They are impressive, mostly because I’ve had a hand in the development. Our horses are the best around. You may choose whichever mount you’d like, and we can take a ride.”

  His offer was surprisingly tempting, mostly because Rosalyn felt less sure about seeing Derek. She couldn’t shake the unwarranted feeling of hurt. It was ridiculous to worry about the life he had led before he met her.

  Derek owed her no fidelity, and she must never believe that he did. She had offered herself to him without demands for a commitment; now she had to play by the rules she had set forth. Which meant that she could not put off seeing him.

  “Thank you for the invitation,” she told Ethan, “but I’ll have to decline for today.” She tried to extract her hand, without success.

  “My brother awaits, does he?”

  “Yes. There are things we must discuss.”

  “I understand.” But instead of letting her go, he took a step closer, his legs brushing the skirt of her day dress. “I hope that you’ll give me a chance to show you my better side. I do have one.”

  “I never doubted it.”

  He laughed softly. “You are a delight, my girl. The general consensus is that I’m the spawn of Satan.”

  “I have a feeling you’ve fostered whatever bad reputation you have.”

  He rubbed his thumb along her palm. “You are perceptive. I have done most of what I’m accused of.”

  “And did you hit Derek over the head last night? Should that incident be laid at your doorstep?”

  His smile vanished. “No, I had nothing to do with what happened to Derek. Clearly he has other enemies. Not everyone loves his connection to England.”

  Rosalyn knew there was a serious dislike for all things English in Castle Gray, and she didn’t delude herself into thinking that she was welcomed with open arms.

  “I hope I haven’t disturbed you,” Ethan said, touching her lightly on the arm. “Not everyone here has issues with England and her people. In fact, I feel quite blessed to be with one of them.”

  “That’s very kind of you. But you needn’t feel you must protect me from the truth; people have a right to their opinion.”

  “No matter how misguided?”

  “No matter. Now, if you’ll excuse me? I must go.”

  “I will escort you. People have been known to get swallowed up in these endless hallways. Some of them haunt this place, doomed to wander aimlessly for all eternity, their remains turning to dust in some long-forgotten corner.”

  Rosalyn laughed as they proceeded down the hallway. “You do have a sense for the dramatic.”

  Ethan had not lied when he said the castle consisted of a maze of connecting corridors. It was a wonder anyone found their way.

  Ethan suddenly turned toward the wall and touched a small, nearly unnoticeable panel, which, to her amazement, sank inward. In the next moment a hidden door, carved expertly into the stone, opened up to them. A person could walk right past it and never know it was there.
/>
  “Don’t be afraid,” Ethan said as he ushered her into the dim passageway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The path was too narrow for them to walk side by side, so Ethan fell in behind her, his hand at her back to guide her. Damp earth and darkness surrounded them. The feeling of being trapped amid the gloom rose inside her.

  Rosalyn was on the verge of turning and running back the way they had come when she saw a bright wash of sunlight at the end of their fifth corner.

  A minute later, they entered a rotunda. The circular room was ringed with portraits of people Rosalyn assumed were Derek’s ancestors. A golden haze pooled on the highly polished wood floor from the rays above.

  A domed ceiling soared high overhead, into which an open area was carved, letting in the outside light. Rosalyn could envision the beauty of moonlight coming through that small sphere, spreading a silver glow on the floor, which, she noted, had an intricate design at its center, inlaid in different wood tones.

  “There was once an altar in the center of the room, where that design on the floor now is.”

  “An altar for what?”

  “Sacrifices,” he replied without hesitation.

  “Sacrifices?”

  “Animal,” he explained, “and perhaps some human, as well. This was once a chamber for a secret cult who used it to perform rituals. Pagans who did not believe in God. Lady Emmaline ordered it be sealed.”

  “I can’t say I blame her. It’s a horrible thing to immortalize.”

  “Derek isn’t overly fond of this room, either; he’s always been a bit squeamish. Anyway, secret rooms demand secret passageways. My father only confided the whereabouts to a select few; he thought it amusing to show guests.”

  “And you were among the select few?”

  “God, no. The old goblin wouldn’t have spat on me, let alone relayed such a juicy tidbit. I was a bit of an eavesdropper in my youth.”

  Ethan shrugged. “I’m surprised Derek didn’t have the passageway sealed after his father expired. He probably forgot about it, and I don’t intend to remind him. I like coming here once in a while.”

  “Why did you bring me?”

  “I thought you might enjoy seeing something that few people are privy to. And perhaps I wanted a few more minutes of your time. Was that wrong?”

  There was definitely a bit of the scoundrel about Ethan, but she couldn’t shake the image of the young boy who had been made to pay for his mother’s sins.

  “No,” she said. “But I really must get going. It’s getting late.”

  “And Derek will wonder where you are,” he finished for her, an edge to his tone. “I understand.” He hesitated. “Will you answer one thing for me before we go?”

  “Ofcourse,” Rosalyn replied.

  “Do I have a chance with you? I mean, is there any room in your heart for me? Or is my brother already firmly entrenched?”

  “I’d like to have you as a friend, if that’s possible.”

  “Well, if I can’t have you as my own, I’ll have to settle for friendship. It isn’t as though I have so many friends that I can spare someone I actually like.”

  Rosalyn smiled. “You know my opinion on that.”

  “Yes, I’m hindered only by my own abrasive personality. Well, I had best get you to Derek. Wouldn’t want to keep the old boy waiting too long. Not a pretty sight.”

  Within minutes, they had exited the passageway and were back on their original path. Rosalyn could hear Derek’s voice as they neared his office. The door was slightly ajar, and the sound of a woman’s tinkling laughter floated out, making Rosalyn’s steps falter.

  She drew to a halt outside the door, spotting Derek sitting behind a chair, facing away from the hall. His gaze was trained on the person who remained just out of Rosalyn’s sight.

  “Ye should have seen Malcolm!” a female voice trilled. “Ye’d think the ninny would know by now not tae be upsettin’ the rooster, since the daft thing is all sorts of ornery. The cock flapped back and forth around the chicken coop, peckin’ and squawkin’ and makin’ a fine racket. Malcolm screamed bloody murder as he ran from it as though he was bein’ pursued by the grim reaper himself. ’Twas a sight to see.”

  Derek joined her laughter, and the deep, resonating sound made Rosalyn heartsick. Could the woman be one of the horde that Ethan claimed Derek had?

  “Who is that?” she asked, unease settling in the pit of her stomach.

  “That’s Megan Trelawny,” Ethan replied. “Derek’s betrothed.”

  Fourteen

  D erek was getting married?

  For the space of a heartbeat, a crushing weight pressed down on Rosalyn. But just as quickly her anger ignited.

  Why hadn’t he mentioned that little tidbit before she had given herself to him? He had made such a show out of caring for her feelings, telling her that it might be best if they didn’t make love; never once had he said that was because he would soon be someone’s husband.

  “Are you all right?” Ethan asked, his brows drawn together in concern.

  Rosalyn fought to pull herself together. “I’m fine. I was merely surprised. Derek hadn’t mentioned his engagement to me.”

  “He tends to keep it to himself.”

  The implication was clear; Derek didn’t want a potential conquest knowing of his upcoming nuptials.

  And yet Rosalyn had difficulty believing that was Derek’s reason for not telling her about his fiancée. She searched for a reasonable explanation but nothing fit.

  All she knew at that moment was that she didn’t want to be there.

  She moved away from the door. “I believe I’ll speak to him later. If you’ll excuse me?”

  Rosalyn turned, feeling distinctly like she was fleeing and not caring in what direction she went, as long as it was away from the sound of Derek laughing with another woman.

  Ethan’s hand around her arm stopped her. “He’s not worth it, Rosalyn. Don’t let this get to you. Face him and show him you don’t care.”

  But I do care!

  How naive she must have looked, throwing herself at him. In the space of one night, she had grown up—and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Her dreams had never hurt like this.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. She was behaving ridiculously, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  Ethan pulled her into his arms and soothed his hands over her back. “You have me, you know. I’m very fond of you, in case you haven’t figured it out.”

  But Rosalyn could not string Ethan along simply to ease her pain. Blinking away tears, she tipped her head back and looked up at his face. For a fleeting second, it was as though she was staring into Derek’s eyes. Both brothers were extraordinarily handsome men, with broad shoulders and eyes a woman could get lost in.

  Perhaps it would have been better had she met Ethan first. She knew from the start what kind of man he was, he made no secret of being a rogue. What she couldn’t accept was deceit.

  “Ethan, I—”

  He kissed her, taking Rosalyn wholly by surprise.

  She had just managed to twist her head from his kiss when she heard a voice hiss, “Son of a bitch.”

  The next instant, Ethan was wrenched away and lying on the floor. His hand came up to swipe at the blood that suddenly blossomed from a cut on his lip.

  Rosalyn turned wide eyes to Derek. His bearing was rigid and his face filled with fury. He glared down at his brother, his hands fisted so tightly that his knuckles were blanched white.

  Ethan stared at the blood staining his hand and laughed derisively at his brother. “Not well done of you, old man. But I suppose that’s the way cowards get the upper hand, by striking when one’s back is turned. Had you tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to step outside, I would have happily obliged you.”

  “Get out,” Derek growled through his teeth. “Pack your bags and get the hell out of here.”

  Ethan pushed to his feet and brushed himself off,
appearing calm and indifferent. “You’re throwing me out? Perhaps you might want to ask yourself why. Then you may want to explain the reason to your betrothed. I think she deserves to know, don’t you?”

  Rosalyn had forgotten about the woman whose musical laughter had brought such an ache to her heart, and whom she had not wanted to see, or have see her. Now she was left with no choice.

  Her gaze slowly slid from Derek, whose brutal regard she could not meet, to the woman standing in the doorway of his office.

  She was garbed in a simple dress that needed mending, and her hair was unbound and slightly wild. But none of it detracted from her stunning beauty. Her eyes were green as the Scottish hills, and her face was piquant and impish. Though she looked only a few years out of the schoolroom, she was clearly no child.

  “Hello,” the girl said, her kindly smile making something fall apart inside Rosalyn. One look in her eyes told Rosalyn she was genuinely warmhearted; she appeared to have all the qualities a man would want in a wife.

  And Rosalyn could not stand there for another second.

  Lifting her skirt, she ran past Ethan, who reached for her. Derek bellowed her name, but she did not stop. She didn’t know where she was going, but it didn’t matter as long as she did not have to see Derek’s derision, Ethan’s mockery, or lovely Megan Trelawny’s pity.

  It took every ounce of control Derek possessed not to run after Rosalyn. He didn’t know what had made him look toward his doorway in time to see Ethan kissing her. An explosive rage had boiled up inside of him, and he had raced to the door.

  Never before had he wanted to wrap his hands around his half-brother’s neck and squeeze until he was dead. Yet seeing the bastard kissing Rosalyn, his body pressed hard along the length of hers, all Derek had known was a murderous, encompassing fury.

  That fury still pounded through his veins as he faced his brother. Barely controlling the emotions burning his skin, he said, “I expect you to be out of here by the morning. If you so much as glance in Rosalyn’s direction, you won’t know what hit you.”