CLAIMED BY A HIGHLANDER (THE DOUGLAS LEGACY Book 2)

by Margaret Mallory

  “Aye. Aye. Aye!” she gasped as her body clenched around him, destroying his last shred of control.

  He cried out her name as they fell over the edge together.

  Good God! Afterward, he lay on his back gasping for air. When he could move his limbs again, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair.

  When he leaned back to look into her face, she gave him a smile that radiated with happiness. He felt an overwhelming tenderness for her as he looked into her violet eyes.

  He felt as though things had changed between them, as if she was his in a way she was not before.

  “I’ll never want another woman,” he told her. “It’s only you, now and forever.”

  “Aye,” she whispered. “You belong to me, and I to you.”

  ***

  Sybil ran her fingertips over Rory’s chest. Though her body felt weak and sated after their long night of lovemaking, her emotions were in turmoil. Each time they made love, she felt more and more guilty.

  Secrets were a common currency at court. She had learned at her grandfather’s knee that a wise person drew out other people’s secrets and kept her own. She had followed his admonition without guilt for years.

  Yet the deeper Rory found his way into her heart, the more it felt wrong not to reveal her secret to him.

  “I’m amazed at how fate brought us together,” Rory said, and kissed her forehead. “The wisest thing I ever did was gamble with your brother.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed and prayed to God to grant her the strength to tell him the truth.

  There’s something I must tell you… As she practiced the words in her head, her heart pounded like a caught rabbit that sees the cleaver in the cook’s hand.

  Rory propped his head on his elbow. This would be easier if he were not looking at her like that. She licked her dry lips and drew in a deep breath.

  “I wanted you from the first moment I saw you,” he said. “But everything about you warned me not to trust you.”

  Perhaps he was right not to trust her then, but he must see that he could trust her now.

  “You’d spent too much time at court,” he continued, “and your family is known for their lack of loyalty and their utter disregard for anyone or anything that does not serve their own interests.”

  Knowing that, she was surprised he hadn’t left her where he found her.

  “If that weren’t reason enough,” he said, “I could see ye were a beauty accustomed to bending men to your will, and you were desperate.”

  Her heart ached. She had never meant to carry the deceit this far. She’d only intended to rely on the deceit until she found a safe refuge. She had not known that her only refuge would be here with him.

  “Day by day, ye broke through all the barriers I erected.” A soft light warmed his eyes as he cupped her cheek with his palm. “Ye showed me a generous spirit and a loyal heart, supporting me at every turn.”

  Sybil choked back tears.

  “When we make love,” he said, “I feel as though ye show me your soul and look into mine.”

  Aye, it feels exactly like that.

  “I need to tell ye what is in my heart, mo leannain,” he said, brushing the tear that spilled down her cheek with his thumb. “I love you.”

  Mary, Mother of God, help me. She had to tell him now. Not because he would forgive her now that he loved her, but because she loved him too.

  Until she told him, this lie would always be between them, corroding their bond, eating away at her heart and tainting the beauty of the love that had grown between them.

  “I love you too, with all my heart,” she said. “I think I have for a long time.”

  “I was afraid to hope.” He pulled her into his arms and gave her a deep kiss. His lips were warm and soft, and she never wanted the kiss to end. And yet she forced herself to push him away and sit up.

  “My love,” she said in a choked voice, “there is something else I must tell you.”

  “What more do I need to know than that ye love me?” Rory sat up and took her face between his hands. “You’ve made me a happy man.”

  Rory’s smile faded as he examined her face. The wariness that entered his eyes tested her strength, but she could not let this deceit lie between them for another day or another hour. She took his hands from her face and held them in her lap. Before she lost her courage, she forced herself to meet his eyes and tell him.

  “I have a confession to make.”

  CHAPTER 29

  “A confession?” Tension pulled Rory’s shoulders tight, clenched his stomach, and made his eye twitch as he waited for Sybil to answer.

  “I should have told ye this long before now,” she said. “I did try to tell ye at the very first, but when ye misunderstood me…well, I let it go.”

  Rory had always sensed Sybil had a secret, something she was not telling him. Was he finally going to learn what it was? She licked her lips, as she always did when she was nervous.

  “Come, lass, it can’t be that bad,” he said, though he suspected it was bad enough because Sybil was not easily rattled. “You’d best tell me and get it over with.”

  “Ye had no obligation to wed me and no obligation to protect me,” she said, looking up at him with watery eyes. “In truth, ye had no obligation to me at all.”

  “We’ve been through this before.” Was this all she was upset about? “If I had no honor, I could have used the loss of your dowry or found some other excuse to abandon ye. Ye should know me better by now than to believe I could turn my back on my contracted bride when ye were in danger.”

  “I was never your contracted bride.” She dropped her gaze to her feet. “There was no marriage contract between us.”

  “We had a binding marriage contract.” He had no notion what she was talking about. “Ye saw it yourself.”

  “I did see it,” she said. “It was not a valid contract. It was a fraud.”

  “Now that I’ve told ye I love ye, ye want out of the marriage?” he said, his voice rising. “Is that why you’re saying this?”

  He shoved the bedclothes aside and got out of bed. He paced up and down the room, but it did not help calm the turmoil inside of him.

  “Rory, I—”

  The words died on her lips when he gripped her arms and leaned over her to look her in the eyes.

  “If ye wished to break the contract before we bedded, I would have allowed it,” he said. “But it’s too damned late now.”

  “I don’t want out of the marriage.”

  “What other reason could ye have to make up this tale now?” he said, flinging his arm out. “I know that is your brother’s signature on the contract. I watched him sign it.”

  “One of my brothers did sign it,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “But it was the wrong brother.”

  “The wrong brother?” Rory felt numb.

  Sybil tried to touch her fingertips to his cheek, but he brushed her hand away.

  “It must have been my brother George who lost to ye at cards, because that was George’s signature on the contract,” she said. “Archie is the chieftain and head of my family. Only he had authority to make a binding contract for my marriage.”

  Rory stumbled backward as if he had taken a blow. The room faded as his memory took him back to that night in Edinburgh so long ago. He saw it all again as if he was sixteen years old and back in that tavern…the dim, low-beamed room…the maid with the missing teeth who grabbed his arse…the Lowlander merchants who bought him stew and ale in exchange for his tale.

  He felt the pain in his leg and his desperation to return home as he followed the tavern maid down the dark hallway. Her sour smell filled his nose as she opened a door a crack to reveal the well-dressed nobles gambling in the back room.

  “That one is the new Douglas chieftain, and the one next to him is his brother,” she said, pointing a thick finger at two black-haired nobles who looked about the same age.

  “Who have ye brought us, Rosie?�
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  Rory had assumed, without even realizing he did, that the brother who spoke first and had the largest pile of coins in front of him was the Douglas chieftain.

  The other Douglas brother left when Rory joined the table, and Rory never gave him another thought. His attention was fixed on his goal of winning the coin he needed to purchase a horse and sword. The easy charm and wit of the Douglas who stayed to gamble fit the brash young chieftain who had seduced the queen so soon after the king’s death that she still carried her dead husband’s child.

  Rory remembered how the candles were pools of wax, marking the hours that drifted by as they played through the night. Though he had done well, he worried that the pile of coins he had won might not be enough. Only he and the Douglas were left in the game now. Rory kept his gaze on the man across the table as he swept the coins from the last hand toward him.

  “I can’t leave it like this,” the Douglas said. “One last round?”

  Rory nodded. If he doubled the coins he’d already won, he would have enough to buy a sword and a fine horse to get him home. He pushed all he had to the center of the table.

  “You’ve won all the money I had with me,” the Douglas said. “Loan me some of it back.”

  Rory shook his head.

  “Do ye know who I am?”

  “You’re the Douglas chieftain who married our widowed queen,” Rory said.

  “If ye know that,” the Douglas said with an amused smile, “then ye know I’m good for the loan.”

  “What I know,” Rory replied, “is that enforcing payment against a man with your connections would be difficult.”

  The Douglas laughed and poured them both another drink. “You’re wise beyond your years.”

  Rory could hold his whisky, but they had been playing cards and drinking steadily since his meager supper. His head felt thick, and the whisky no longer dulled the throbbing pain in his leg.

  “Come, Highlander, one more hand,” the Douglas said, tilting his head.

  “I would if ye had anything left to put on the table.”

  Though the Douglas was so wealthy he would not miss the money he’d lost, it was clear he was not accustomed to losing. Tonight, however, luck was with Rory and not the Douglas. It was a damn shame the man had run out of money.

  “’Tis late,” Rory said, and stood up. “Thank ye for a fine game.”

  “Damn. What else have I got that I could wager?” the Douglas said, patting his tunic. He looked up with a grin and raised his finger. “I know! I’ll give ye one of my sisters.”

  Rory blinked. “You’ll wager your sister?”

  “Aye, in a marriage contract,” the Douglas said. He turned to one of his companions, who was slumped in a chair, and shook him. “Tell him what a Douglas lass is worth.”

  “The dowry of one of his sisters is worth many times the coins you’ve won tonight,” the friend said. “Ask anyone.”

  Rory did not want to be bound to a Lowlander lass, no matter how great her dowry. And yet he could not help recalling the time he’d seen the Douglas sisters ride by. The image of the black-haired Douglas lass with laughter in her eyes filled his head, and the question tumbled out of his mouth.

  “Which sister?”

  “Which one do ye want?” The Douglas’s satisfied smile showed he knew he’d offered an inducement that tempted Rory.

  “Sybil.” One of the other girls had called her name, and it had stuck in Rory’s memory like a burr. When he spoke it aloud, it felt like spiced wine on his lips.

  “Ye made a good choice, since the two older ones are already wed,” the Douglas said with good humor. “Not that it will matter, as you’ll lose this last game.”

  “Ye must think me a fool.” Rory was annoyed with himself for nearly agreeing. “I won’t play for a promise of a marriage contract any more than I’d rely on coin ye don’t have in hand. You’ll wake up sober tomorrow and forget the debt.”

  “I’ll write the contract myself right now and sign it.” He pointed to one of his friends. “Give me that letter ye received today. I’ll write the marriage contract on the back.”

  The friend produced the parchment, and the Douglas began writing with a fluid hand.

  “I, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, chieftain of the Douglas clan, and guardian of my sister Lady Sybil Elizabeth Douglas, do hereby enter into binding marriage contract on her behalf…”

  He read the words out loud as he scrawled them across the page. Rory listened carefully as he named the properties, as well as the silver and jewels that comprised her dowry. When the Douglas was finished, he signed it with a flourish, then slid the parchment across the table.

  “You sign here.” He pointed as he handed Rory the quill. “Then my friends will sign as witnesses.”

  If Rory won, he could borrow against her dowry for the rest of what he needed to get home. And years from now when they wed, he’d be a wealthy man. He told himself those were the reasons he sat back down at the table.

  “If ye win, I’ll give this parchment to ye,” the Douglas said. “If ye lose, I’ll tear it up and take every last one of your coins.”

  Rory studied the man. “Why would ye make such a wager?”

  “A wild Highlander would suit my sister Sybil, wouldn’t ye say?” he said, turning to his friends, and they all laughed. He turned back to Rory. “But it will never happen because you’ll lose. Fair warning—I always win the last hand.”

  Rory should have taken the money he’d already won and left. But he imagined a lass’s shining black hair falling over his chest, and he signed his name, which was all he could write.

  For years he had told himself that he agreed to that last, unusual wager for the wealth and powerful connections such a marriage could bring to him and his clan.

  Now he saw the truth. He had done it for a chance to spend his days and nights with the bonny black-haired lass with laughter in her eyes.

  He had been so damned certain that night that luck was on his side.

  But luck, like the lass herself, was fickle.

  CHAPTER 30

  Rory felt like a caged animal as he paced the chamber. He’d been taken for a fool by Sybil’s slippery, smiling brother.

  “Ye knew from the very beginning when I showed ye the parchment that it was no binding contract,” he ranted. “And ye knew I didn’t know it was false.”

  He had no right to take Sybil away with him. Kidnapping a bride was not uncommon in the Highlands, but a man ought to know when he was doing it.

  At least Sybil had the grace to look guilty.

  “Why did ye not tell me?” he shouted. “Why?”

  “Well…” Her gaze flitted away. “I didn’t want to disappoint ye after you’d traveled such a long way to fetch me.”

  “Sybil!” He clenched his fists at his side. “The time for games is at an end.”

  “I had the threat of imprisonment and a charge of treason looming over me,” she said. “And you were looming over me as well, just as ye are now. Before I became accustomed to that icy stare of yours, ye could be a wee bit frightening.”

  “Don’t ye dare mock me.” He’d had enough of her sarcasm.

  “Ye don’t understand—”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly now,” he said, folding his arms.

  “Ye don’t.”

  “Ye needed a man to take ye away. Who better than an ignorant Highlander?” He backed her up against the wall and leaned in close. “Ye used me.”

  “That wasn’t—”

  “Ye never intended to become my wife.” He felt as if a fist was pounding against his head. “Ye went to bed with me. Why? To make me believe we were bound?”

  “Nay, that wasn’t the—”

  “What else have ye lied to me about?”

  When she looked off into the distance as if she was struggling to recall all the ways she had deceived him, he thought his head would explode. A terrible suspicion crept into his mind. God’s bones, he hoped he was wrong.

&
nbsp; “Ye lied to me about why ye weren’t a virgin, didn’t ye?”

  Her face drained of color. Christ, how could she?

  “Ye lied about being raped.” The words tasted like ashes on his tongue.

  “I never m—”

  “You’re every bit as deceitful as your brother,” he said, pointing his finger at her. “Ye only went to bed with me after ye learned my brother died and there was a good chance I’d be made chieftain.”

  “That’s not why I did it!” she said. “You were grieving. I wanted to comfort you.”

  “I know what ye wanted,” he said. “Ye wanted me to believe we were bound in marriage, while you were still making up your mind about whether ye had to marry the heathen.”

  “In the end, I did choose to marry you,” she said. “I made my pledge before your clan—”

  “Aye, after I was made chieftain.” He was so angry his vision blurred.

  “I said those vows because I wanted ye for my husband.”

  “That was your worst deceit—ye made me believe that ye wanted me.” He pressed his thumb to his chest as he spoke.

  “I did want you,” she said. “I do want you.”

  “What ye wanted was a chieftain for a husband,” he said. “No second son would do for Lady Sybil Douglas, pursued and flattered by all the powerful men at court.”

  “I didn’t want to marry a chieftain,” she said. “I wanted to disappear.”

  “Ha! Ye didn’t want to be my wife until I became the MacKenzie,” he said.

  “You’re twisting everything!” she said, clenching her fists.

  “Ach, you’re a Douglas through and through.” He spit on the floor. “You’ve no true loyalty, no heart. All that matters to ye is power and position.”

  “Ye said ye loved me. How can ye believe such things about me?” She gripped his arm, and what he knew were false tears filled her eyes.

  “I loved the woman ye pretended to be,” he said. “Ye played me for a fool, just like your brother did.”

  He could not be in the same room with her another moment. When he started toward the door, she clung to his arm, and he shook her off.