Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance

by K. E. Saxon

  Daniel shot to his feet and strode over to the hearth. As he stared into the flames, he fought the ridiculous desire to protect the lass from his cousin’s blackmail scheme.

  “Callum has always fancied my daughter,” Laird Donald continued. “In fact, they’ve been friends since they were both bairns. But he is too spoiled and unseasoned in my estimation and I have never encouraged an attachment—tho’ he has certainly desired one.”

  *

  The sun was high in the sky now as Maryn ambled across the courtyard. Her muscles ached from the long journey and lack of rest. Again, a yawn assailed her, but this time she indulged the need. As she did so, she stopped a moment and looked through the arched entryway in the stone wall leading to the training field in the upper bailey. The clamor and intensity of the MacLaurin warriors as they practiced their drills made it clear that they took their training seriously.

  Not that the Donald warriors were any different, she supposed. But there were just so many MacLaurin warriors. More warriors than she’d seen in all her days. And they were an awesome sight.

  Sighing, she supposed she’d delayed as long as she dared and turned toward the entry of the keep. Apprehension overcame her as she thought of the agreement she had sworn to her father and her clan to fulfill. Though she was not proud of the fact, she found Laird MacLaurin rather daunting. He was just so big and his good looks did not ease her feelings of apprehension, either. Everything about him was massive. His wealth, his strength, his size, his comeliness. Why would he settle for a puny lass with little wealth, country ways, and one prone to oddness? She thought of all the young swains who’d scuttled off, evidently in disgust, mere hours after meeting her these past two years. Why should she believe this comely warrior-laird would be any different? Even if he did agree to this bargain in order to help his Maclean clan, he’d surely regret the deed soon enough. And that possibility had now become her deepest fear.

  Tho’, she mused, she had truly not thought of how it would affect Laird MacLaurin when she’d first agreed to this bargain. She’d only been thinking of how she could make amends for her rash behavior in the most peaceable way possible. Her only concern at the time had been that no blood be spilled due to her misdeed.

  Upon seeing this wealthy holding, however, and meeting the handsome laird, she realized the sacrifice he would be making as well. ‘Twas clear that he could have any lady in the Highlands. A lady of beauty and refinement—and one better suited to running an estate such as this.

  She ran her fingers over her plain woolen gown peeking from the opened front of her cloak and heaved another heavy sigh. ‘Twas as if she were an unpolished churl who’d been invited to dine in the king’s palace.

  Knowing she could dally no longer, Maryn climbed the steps leading to the entry of the keep and opened the heavy wooden door.

  Upon entering the great hall, she came to a standstill. Her father looked quite pleased with himself, she noticed, as he watched Laird MacLaurin pace. She cleared her throat and the two men looked toward her.

  The warmth in Laird MacLaurin’s smile as he looked at her sent an answering warmth shooting through her veins. Despite her unease, she returned the smile.

  “There you are lass, I was beginning to think you’d raided the MacLaurin stables as well,” Laird Donald teased.

  “Papa!” Maryn’s cheeks flamed at the reminder in front of their host.

  “Come in and take a seat so that we may get down to the business of explaining to Laird MacLaurin the reasons we have traveled here.”

  Her heart tripped. She’d fervently hoped her father would have already told Laird MacLaurin everything. For she truly had no desire to be privy to their host’s initial reaction to the tale. ‘Twas just too humiliating. With nerveless hands, she removed her cloak and handed it to a servant. Then, forcing her leaden feet to move, Maryn obeyed her father’s command.

  After settling on a bench across the table from her father, a servant brought a trencher for her with a cup of wine. Maryn thanked him for his kindness. She had had naught to eat since the night before. Famished, she tried to take small bites, but the food was so delicious that she stuffed her mouth several times as she ate.

  *

  Daniel stared, captivated by the bronze glory of the lass’s hair that fell across her shoulder, glowing against the midnight-blue of her woolen gown. And the gown’s bodice molded her breasts in the way his hands craved to imitate.

  Drawn to her in a way he’d never been to anyone before, Daniel sat down at the table beside her. Fascinated, he watched her eat her meal, for she was devouring it with a keen enjoyment the likes of which he’d never seen—even in his most hearty warriors. He liked that about her. She was such a dainty, feminine thing, and the contrast between her size and her appetite amused him greatly. So much so that a tickle formed in his throat as he suppressed an untimely chuckle, which made him have to swallow to keep from coughing, so only a small sound escaped. The lass didn’t notice.

  As she chewed, his eyes skimmed down her face to rest on her plump red mouth. It had a lovely shape. The fullness of the lower lip, combined with the soft bow of the one above it made him long to learn their flavor. Spicy? Sweet? Or, mayhap, some delectable combination? When she opened those succulent red folds and took a piece of mutton inside before softly sucking the grease from her fingers, his thoughts turned prurient.

  *

  Suddenly realizing that all conversation around her had come to a halt, Maryn lifted her gaze from her trencher and saw that Laird MacLaurin watched her with a strange light in his eyes. She felt the instant flush of heat on her neck and face. She’d clearly sickened the man with her eager feeding! “‘Tis just that I’ve had naught to eat since last eve….”

  The young laird grinned at her and grabbed an extra large piece of mutton off of her trencher, then stuffed it in his mouth and chewed happily.

  This unexpected show of camaraderie allowed her to relax and even smile at his antics. What a lovely set of teeth he had! And a pleasantly shaped mouth, as well. A sudden, violent desire to trail her tongue across his bottom lip sent a thrill running down her spine.

  She shivered.

  “Are you chilled? I can have the fire built higher.”

  She shook her head. “Nay, nay…um…nay….” Her fingers stumbled over to a piece of mutton, brought it up to her lips, and tucked it into her mouth. What a strange thing to imagine doing to someone, she thought as she chewed aggressively. ‘Twas deviant, surely. But, oddly, it did not diminish her desire to do it.

  *

  “I have just informed Laird MacLaurin of the conditions that Callum MacGregor has set out in order to avoid a clan war,” Laird Donald told his daughter. Turning back to Daniel, he said, “I refused Callum’s ultimatum.”

  Daniel’s spirits soared.

  “He became furious. He stormed from my keep with the promise that blood would flow and that he would have the prize he’d sought in any case.”

  Daniel’s brows drew together. “My cousin does seem to be a bit callow. Has the war begun then?”

  “Nay. And God willing, ‘twill not. I began planning a secret meeting with the elders of both clans after Callum left that night.”

  Not wanting her to catch him staring at her again, Daniel watched Maryn from the corner of his eye. “That seems a good solution,” he said absently.

  When Laird Donald abruptly cleared his throat, Daniel swung his gaze back that direction. An amused twinkle lit the older man’s eye and a definite, and uncomfortably lassish heat spread over Daniel’s cheeks.

  “I met with the elders,” Laird Donald said, “and found that there was much disenchantment with Callum on the part of the Macleans. They wanted to oust him as chieftain but needed a viable replacement. They also wanted some recompense on the part of my clan for the offense my daughter had done them.”

  *

  At the reminder of the trouble she’d caused, the bread lodged in Maryn’s throat. She swallowed reflexively and
took a gulp of wine to help wash it down. Blinking the sudden dampness from her eyes, she coughed softly into her hand.

  The young laird swung around and lightly patted her on the back. “Are you well, lass?” He poured out a bit more wine into her goblet and handed it to her.

  “Aye, Laird MacLaurin, I thank you,” Maryn replied in strangled tones. God’s truth, the man was behemoth, she mused. He could snap her like a twig with the littlest effort, she was sure, if the spirit moved him to do so. With a trembling hand, she took another long draught of her wine.

  ***

  Clearing his throat once again, Laird Donald said, “As I was saying….” When Daniel turned and looked in his direction, he continued, “We debated for hours over possible replacements for Callum and could not agree on anyone. Until, at last, one of the older members mentioned your name. Then we recalled that ‘twas you that your grandfather had wanted from the first, and our plan began to take shape.”

  Daniel tensed. “Are you asking me to become laird of the Macleans?”

  “The Macleans and Donalds have offered a truce to the blood feud on the condition that I am able to contract you for a minimum of two years to live at the Maclean holding as chieftain to the Maclean clan.”

  “I am sorry for your troubles, but I must refuse. My first duty is to the MacLaurens and always will be.”

  Laird Donald moved his tankard aside and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and twining his fingers together. With a nod, he said, “I was certain that would be your response, and told the Macleans thus when first the idea arose. That is why the Macleans have added an enticement to such an alliance. You know that they are involved in the shipping trade? That they own land on the western shores?”

  Daniel sat forward as well. His eyes narrowed as he studied his guest a moment before saying, “Aye.”

  Laird Donald’s brow lifted in tandem with the right side of his mouth. “You should be pleased to know that they are ready to release to you twenty percent of the profits for the two years you honor them with your chieftainship.” A small, weighted pause followed before he continued, “’Tis equal to one thousand pounds of silver per annum.”

  One thousand pounds per annum! Daniel’s eyes widened before he could control the action, but he quickly forced a stolid mien back into place. Clearly the Macleans held more wealth than was commonly believed. Yet, he’d not be swayed so easily. He shook his head and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nay, that will not do. I’ll not forsake my clan for a mere twenty percent for two years.”

  Laird Donald rested his chin in his hand and scrutinized Daniel a moment. Tapping his finger against his cheek, he said, “And just what would be the price that would entice you to this duty?”

  It was Daniel’s turn to lift an eyebrow at his guest. “I’d not do it for less than half the profits for the two years I’m chieftain, one ship, and twenty percent of the entire shipping business after I’ve relinquished the duty to my successor.”

  As Daniel watched, Laird Donald shook his head and lifted himself off the bench. “I need a moment to review the list of terms on which the Macleans agreed to have me chaffer.” He turned his sights on the lass, from whom Daniel’s awareness had yet to completely stray, even with the tempting subject of property and profits they’d been discussing. “Come, Daughter,” Laird Donald said, “we’ll leave our host to muse on what’s been said thus far whilst I reacquaint myself with the Macleans’ terms.” With that, he reached out his hand and aided the pink-cheeked lass to her feet, then strode over to the hearth. After settling her on a stool, he took a small scroll from the pouch on his belt and began to read.

  Though Daniel’s eyes were on the beauty by the hearthfire, his thoughts were on the prospect of furthering the MacLaurens’ power and wealth. He doubted that the Macleans would agree to such a steep price, but if they did, then Daniel would agree to this duty they requested, for ‘twould more than pay the debts he still owed from his last furbishing, as well as pay for his planned expansion to the MacLauren fortress that he’d been saving for. Which, at the rate he was going, would take at least another ten years to acquire. But, if the Macleans agreed to his terms, the expansion might be accomplished in the next three years instead. ‘Twould also be a salve to his clansmen’s anger at what they would surely otherwise feel to be a betrayal.

  The lass began to yawn and her hand shot over her mouth. Daniel smiled, in spite of the serious nature of this meeting. Clearly, the meal had added to her weariness from their long journey. As Laird Donald tucked the scroll back in his pouch, he leaned down and murmured something to her, too low for Daniel to hear, but clearly it embarrassed her, for her cheeks brightened again with a rose glow and she gave her father a jerky nod. Laird Donald stroked his finger over his daughter’s cheek and Daniel felt an urge—more like a pining that started somewhere in the center of his chest—to be given the right to do the same to her. In the next second, Laird Donald had her on her feet once more and they moved toward Daniel, the lass not meeting his eyes and Laird Donald with a smile of satisfaction on his face. The look made Daniel’s heart pound in anticipation, but he kept his own countenance unmoved.

  “The Macleans are prepared to give you all that you require,” Laird Donald told him as he approached.

  Daniel’s brows came together. “It surprises me that they would yield so quickly, so easily, to such a steep price.” He sat forward and studied his guest’s countenance. “Could it be that their shipping trade is not so profitable as has been declared to you?”

  Laird Donald waved a hand and shook his head. “Nay, nay. ‘Tis more that your grandmother wants you to be recompensed for the damage your father—her son—did to the MacLaurens.”

  Daniel’s shoulders tensed. “Aye, well they should!”

  “And she wants her grandson near her for as long as she is able to have him there.” That soothed Daniel’s ire and he gave a solemn nod. “Then all that is left is to sign and seal the contract.”

  Laird Donald shot a quick look in his daughter’s direction and Daniel felt, more than saw, her resettle on the bench. “There is more that you must agree to, in order for this contract to be signed and sealed,” Laird Donald told him. “As a blood tie between the two families, you must accept my daughter for wife.”

  *

  Maryn, unable to watch the young laird’s reaction, bowed her head, keeping her gaze fixed on her white-knuckled hands. She felt the heavy weight of his gaze on her, but still she resisted meeting his eye.

  “If you agree, then the wedding must take place this day, before I leave to return with my report to the clans.”

  Maryn cringed inside, biting down hard on her lip. The warm, calloused hand of the handsome laird settled upon her own and she nearly came out of her skin.

  A tremor went through her. She wanted to allow the contact, she wanted to break it as well. What to do?

  Before she could decide, he leaned closer to her, making her skin go tingly and warm. ‘Twas his massive size that troubled her, she decided. Aye, the giant man was so close to her now, he was practically sharing her breath. Who would not feel a bit uneasy? And he’d moved his face so near to her own that she was finally forced to look into his eyes. Lord, but could a lass not drown in the depths of those sea-green eyes? Something elemental passed between them as they gazed at each other and her heart pounded in reaction.

  When her tongue darted over her dry lips, his eyes dropped to her mouth. She recognized the look in it: hunger. A heavy pulse throbbed between her thighs, making her resettle on the bench. The movement seemed to bring him out of his thoughts because he blinked a couple of times and took in a deep breath. The gentle cadence to his voice surprised her when he asked, “Do you agree to this proposed union between the two of us, Maryn?”

  She nodded. For some reason, the sound of her name softly tripping off his tongue made her heart do a little flip. Odd, but pleasant as well.

  *

  Daniel expelled the bre
ath he’d been holding. “So be it. The wedding will take place this afternoon.” He was relieved that the lass was resigned to this marriage, for he realized now that his fate had been sealed almost from the moment he saw her earlier that day.

  Wanting to get the plans under way, he dispatched one of his men to invite the rest of the Donald party into the fortress. Laird Donald had left his men at the bottom of the hill, not knowing how well the proceedings would go.

  All the preparations were put in motion for an afternoon wedding ceremony and feast and Laird Donald and Maryn were shown up to their chambers so they might refresh themselves prior to the ceremony.

  As Daniel made his way out of the hall, he prepared his speech to his clansmen. They’d be shocked and angered, but he’d make sure they understood that this short alliance would expand the MacLaurens’ own coffers and reach at the expense of the clan whose offspring caused their near demise near to fifteen annals past. Surely, ‘twould be a balm to any residual festering sores to his clansmen’s honor they still suffered. He’d also assure them that he would be in contact with his lieutenant, as well as his steward, and would be available to his MacLaurin clansmen at any time.

  He only hoped his clansmen would not string him up by his toes when they heard he’d agreed to all the conditions, however. For, in an hour’s time, he’d not only be the new chieftain of the Maclean clan, he’d be wed.

  But not to his betrothed.

  *

  Maryn was in a daze. There had been a part of her mind that had believed that Laird MacLaurin would not agree to the demands of the two clans—that, in fact, she would surely go home to wed some other candidate for laird. Oh, she was well aware that she had sealed her fate with her impetuous theft, that she was to be married off quickly to some stranger or another of her father and the Macleans’ choosing.

  But, she admitted to herself, she was not displeased that ‘twould be Laird MacLaurin she would wed. For he was handsome and strong. And she liked his easy smile, and the sound of his laughter. In fact, if ‘twere not for his formidable size—and that disturbing, violent, obscure past of his—she’d no doubt like everything about him.