Highland Spitfire

by Mary Wine

  “And they call me bastard.”

  * * *

  War Chief.

  Ailis knew the MacPhersons had one, and the man sitting next to Bhaic had two feathers raised on the side of his bonnet, only one was black and the other white. Bhaic had two white feathers facing up on his.

  The man was slightly older than Bhaic. He made way for her and the two boys bringing another chair to the long table. She sat down, feeling as if every motion she made was too clumsy or loud. Everyone was watching her, judging her.

  Well, let them. She was no coward.

  But getting food down her throat was going to prove rather challenging. A smattering of conversation started up, but everyone was clearly trying to hear what she said.

  She looked over the hall and cringed. There had to be over three hundred retainers alone. The massive keep made sense now—it was the only place they could all break bread together. The MacPhersons were more powerful than her father ever suspected. They sat at long tables on benches, as a continuous stream of women brought food in from two passageways.

  “I’ll have words with Duana about showing you to a cell.” Bhaic spoke softly, but the moment he opened his lips, the conversation died. Proving she was correct to think everyone was listening to them.

  Well, she’d begin as she intended to continue.

  No hint of weakness.

  She replaced the goblet she’d been drinking from and offered him a smile. “Duana was very kind.”

  “Kind?” Bhaic questioned. “By showing ye to a cell?”

  “Aye.” Ailis shot Angus a soft smile. “She neglected to lock me in when she departed. Kind of her, as there wasn’t even a mouse in there to catch for supper.”

  Bhaic stared at her for a long moment before his lips twitched. His father’s captains choked on their amusement, even as they tried to cover up their lapse with coughs. He stabbed a piece of meat on his plate with a small eating knife but paused with it in the air. “Yer sense of humor is going to serve ye well.”

  Exactly what she was afraid of.

  Ailis covered her moment of fear by looking over what had landed on her plate. She should have been hungry. Ravenous actually, since she’d taken to dancing on the green instead of feasting. The food looked well enough, but her appetite was missing, likely due to the lump lodged in her throat. It was growing too. But everyone was watching her, waiting for her to make some error that they might cry insult over. She reached for the bread and chewed on it. Forcing it down her throat.

  Duana would not be claiming she’d insulted her fare.

  Too soon, she realized she’d drained her cup. With an empty stomach, the wine was speeding its way through her body. Bhaic reached for a pitcher to refill her goblet.

  “I think I’ve had enough. Thank you.”

  “The lassie wants to be taken off to bed,” Angus said with just a little too much mirth. There was a gleeful note of enjoyment in his tone. He eyed her from where he sat closer to Shamus and smacked his lips. “Since ye’re no’ eating and no’ drinking…ye must be ready for yer duties.”

  Her cheeks heated, but so did her temper. Angus snickered at her discomfort, while a good number of his clansmen joined in. She pushed her chair back, the feet skidding loudly.

  “There is naught here that distresses me,” she said.

  It was a straight-out lie.

  Bhaic’s very presence distressed her.

  She offered them the briefest courtesy before shooting the Head of House a hard look. “If you would be so kind as to show me the way above stairs?”

  Duana nodded and dropped her what might have been a courtesy, but the Head of House’s eyes widened as she was bending her knee, and she shot straight back up, blinking for a moment in astonishment. Clearly it was a habit, but one Duana wasn’t happy to discover herself performing for a Robertson. She covered it by snapping her fingers at several of the serving women.

  Ailis followed her down the steps and through a passageway opening.

  “Isn’t it just like a Robertson to be taking me away from the high table during supper service?” Duana complained loudly.

  One of the maids stifled a snort badly.

  “If ye had shown me to me proper place to begin with, I would nae have bothered ye.”

  Duana stopped and turned on her. “Do nae ye have any manners at all?”

  “More than ye.” Ailis stepped right up. “For if me brother brought home a bride, I’d no’ show her to a cell.”

  “Ye’re a Robertson.” Duana’s tone made her disdain clear.

  “Yes, I am.” Ailis kept her tone even, because she wasn’t going to give the woman the fight she craved, only a look at just how well Ailis could stand firmly in her place.

  Duana jammed her fists onto her ample hips. “Me husband died at the hands of a Robertson.”

  Ailis stared at the anger flickering in the Head of House’s eyes. “A feud I am here to end.”

  Duana snorted at her, sweeping her from head to toe and clearly finding her lacking.

  “Did yer husband court ye?” Ailis asked.

  The question caught Duana off guard. She titled her head to one side as she considered it. “Well…aye, he did.” Her lips curled into a saucy grin. “No one knows how to tickle a lass’s fancy like a MacPherson.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Ailis said softly. “I was wed at gunpoint, to a man who would rather have been hanged, but took me in favor of seeing his father fitted with a noose. It tickled something inside me for certain, but it was no’ me fancy.”

  The Head of House lost her poise, appearing uncertain for a long moment as the maids around them looked away to avoid making eye contact with Ailis.

  “Aye,” Duana muttered, attempting to recover. “I suppose…suppose…this way.”

  Ailis followed the woman up three flights of stairs. There were another two stories above that, but Duana stopped and slid a key into a door. The grating sound of the lock opening echoed down the stone stairway. She pushed the door in and revealed a sizable receiving chamber. The maids went around lighting candles and hastily pulling covers off the furniture. Two of them disappeared through an arched opening, and a moment later, the warm glow of candlelight illuminated a bedchamber.

  The maids worked to dress the bed, while two more maids arrived with pitchers of water and a stack of fresh linen cloths. There was a crackle from the hearth as wood caught.

  “Well now, off with that dress,” Duana said firmly. “Ye’ll need to be ready to greet yer husband if he decides to share yer bed tonight. There’s a dressing robe in the wardrobe if he sends one of his lads down for ye.”

  One of the maids opened a double-door wardrobe and pulled out a thick robe. She laid it over the arm of a wooden chair.

  “Thank you. I can see to myself.” She was suddenly weary. All she wanted to do was hide.

  Just until she wasn’t so tired.

  “Oh? And why would that be?” Duana was in the mood to stand her ground again. The three maids all looked toward her. “Have something to hide, do ye?”

  All four of them lifted their chins in defiance. She might have dressed them down for it. Truly thought about it. Lord knew her temper would have enjoyed returning spite for spite.

  And where would that take them all?

  Ailis reached up and tugged on the tie that kept her partlet closed at her neck. It slid open easily. She unfastened her cuffs next, and then popped the knot at the front of her dress. The maids started to shift uncertainly, looking between the Head of House and Ailis as more of her clothing began to gather on the floor. She kept at it until every last bit of her skin was on display.

  “Leave when ye’ve seen enough to satisfy ye.” Her tone reflected how much determination she had.

  Two of the maids started to pick up the
pieces of her dress in response. “I said leave. I’ll see to myself before putting a single one of ye to the trouble of suffering me.”

  Eyes widened with shock; cheeks turned red. The Head of House let out a huff. “Well, see now what comes of the kindness I attempt to show ye.”

  “May someone be as kind to yer daughter,” Ailis said as she gathered up her clothing to shield herself. “When circumstances turn challenging.”

  Duana’s expression changed. It became grudging. “Ye’re no weakling.”

  She shuffled out of the chamber a moment later. Her maids followed, closing the door behind them.

  It was a sweet sound.

  Ailis closed her eyes and let the soft click wash through her. The fire crackled behind her, but there wasn’t a single other sound.

  Thank Christ.

  She just needed a moment.

  Well, perhaps more than one moment. But she’d be fine.

  Ye are such a liar…

  * * *

  “I was wed at gunpoint, to a man who would rather have been hanged, but took me in favor of seeing his father fitted with a noose.”

  Harsh words.

  True words.

  Bhaic hung back in the hallway, keeping to the shadows as Ailis faced off with his father’s Head of House. Duana was a buxom woman who had several inches on Ailis, but his bride wasn’t intimidated.

  And cut him to the bone with her words.

  They chafed because he’d always enjoyed seducing his bed partners. Any man might corner a lass, but it took cunning to draw one into the shadows for a bit of sport.

  “Perhaps she’s no’ as much yers as ye think, Brother.” Marcus was hovering a few feet behind him.

  Bhaic shot him a withering look. “Do nae ye have something better to do?”

  His half brother smirked and shook his head.

  “The devil take ye.”

  Marcus chuckled, low and ominously. “I was born in sin, Brother, so I’ve never been very far from Lucifer’s reach. But”—he sobered, looking at the darkened passageway the women had gone down—“tonight I’m thankful. I’d no’ care to hear how much strife was between me and the one woman the church blessed me to have in me bed.”

  “Aye.” Bhaic turned and headed back toward the hall.

  “No’ going up?”

  Bhaic shook his head. “The lass is correct. I’ve no’ courted her.”

  Marcus reached out and caught his shoulder. “But the union is consummated?”

  Bhaic looked both ways before shaking his head.

  “That complicates matters.” His brother’s tone had gone hard. Marcus would always put the clan first. “Unconsummated means we’re open to reprisals.”

  Bhaic shrugged. “I was nae going to prove meself the monster she’s been raised to think me, by jumping on her and demanding me rights. Besides, to be truthful, I was hoping to be free of the union. Lye Rob Gordon has complicated matters.”

  “Oh…well now…” Marcus started. “She looks to be such a terrible fate.”

  “Ye would no’ have cared for being forced to yer knees either, Brother. Ye’ve got yer mother’s stubborn pride.”

  “Aye,” Marcus conceded. “Which is why ye’re the Tanis. The art of mediation is no’ one I’m very accomplished at. That’s a skill a laird must be willing to cultivate.”

  “Aye.” Bhaic turned to go back toward the hall. Marcus stood firmly in his path.

  “A Tanis must also see to securing alliances,” his brother stated firmly. “So turn around and get to it.”

  “The lass and I have had enough of being told what to do,” Bhaic stated firmly. “There’s time enough for us to get to the particulars of our arrangement. I prefer me women feisty, no’ worn down by a day that has been too long.”

  “Lye Rob will take advantage of that mercy, make no mistake,” Marcus warned. “Yer kindness will become a horror the lass will have to suffer if he gets his hands on her.”

  “As War Chief, that is yer concern,” Bhaic shot back. “Keep the bloody Gordons off our land. So I can focus on making sure me marriage does nae form another chain in the feud, because me wife learns to hate me and all me kin.”

  He only passed through the hall, going to the other set of stairs and climbing up to the fourth floor. His chamber was warm and welcoming. A fire going in the hearth and his bedding turned down, with a hint of rosemary coming from the sheets.

  He ground his teeth, frustrated by the lack of welcome Ailis had received. It was his responsibility to see to her. She was his.

  Well, no’ completely so.

  His gaze returned to the bed.

  What a welcoming sight it would be to have Ailis in it, her golden hair spread out over the creamy linen sheeting.

  His cock twitched, thickening as he indulged the moment of fantasy.

  There was a scratching on the door.

  “Aye?”

  The door was pushed in slowly, and a maid peeked in. She smiled as she noted he was halfway out of his clothing. Her gaze roamed boldly over his bare chest as her teeth appeared in her bottom lip.

  “Would ye care for…anything, my laird?”

  Bhaic paused with his hands on his belt. To his shame, he couldn’t recall if he’d had her.

  And it was a shame when Ailis came to him a maiden. Feisty and passionate but still pure for the sake of honor.

  The girl was licking her lower lip. She was halfway across the floor before he could stop her.

  “Take a message to me bride,” he said.

  The girl froze, disappointment twisting her features.

  “Tell her I wish her a pleasant night’s rest.”

  The girl smiled brightly and lowered herself. “It will only take a little bit of time, and I will return.”

  “Nae.”

  Her expression darkened.

  “And make sure ye speak to her with the respect me wife should have.”

  The girl turned around, but not before Bhaic saw her eyes widen. He cursed when the door shut.

  He was being forced to see the Earl of Morton as a man with vision and insight. How could his own people be spiteful to one wee Robertson lass who was all but imprisoned inside the MacPherson castle?

  There was the savage side of a Highlander’s nature that one could be proud of, and then there was the behavior of his own kin. Meanness, for the sake of being unkind. It shamed him.

  Yet Ailis had faced them all down. Damned if he hadn’t been proud of her. She might have complained; instead she stood up for herself. Willing to earn her place.

  Mercy? Nae. She deserved courting. No’ the cold reality of being claimed.

  He unbuckled his belt and gathered up his plaid before it fell to the floor. He took the time to lay it on a table, folding it into pleats and threading one belt beneath it before he turned to take his ease. If there was trouble during the night, he’d need his kilt ready.

  He lay back in his bed, his cock stiff and unsatisfied.

  But he was pleased.

  Aye. He was.

  For tomorrow, he’d set about chasing down his bride.

  * * *

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Ailis sat up, crumpling the sheet. Her heart jumped into a rhythm that she was sure would make it burst. Her attention flew to where the dressing robe was still lying over the arm of the chair.

  Was the day not yet finished?

  A girl came into view, looking around the outer receiving room.

  “I am here.”

  The maid turned to look at her and moved to where the two rooms joined under a double-wide opening. There were thick velvet curtains that might be drawn, but Ailis had left them pushed back to have the light from the fire. The darkness had felt too l
onely, the glowing red embers offering small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

  “Yer husband did send me to ye.”

  Her heart was definitely going to burst.

  “He bids ye a restful night.”

  The girl offered her a shrug and started to leave, but then turned back and lowered herself, looking as though she was as uncertain of the gesture as Ailis was in receiving it. She scurried out the door the moment she was finished.

  A restful night?

  Dare she embrace relief or dread the fact that everyone would soon know Bhaic hadn’t wanted her?

  She groaned and lay back down. How was it possible to be granted what she craved but then be dissatisfied?

  Ye’re fickle…

  Maybe. Honestly, she was too tired to ponder anything. The bedding was thick and warm, luring her away into the embrace of slumber.

  She’d puzzle it all out tomorrow.

  Four

  First light showed her more evidence of the MacPherson’s superiority.

  From the windows in her room, Ailis could see the outer buildings that supported the castle. The kitchens were huge. She counted at least seven chimneys, all of them in use. There was a well-worn road that led up to those kitchens. Even so early in the morning, there were wagons arriving. Beside the kitchen were henhouses and a byre with cows. Young boys were moving around, sitting down on short stools to milk those cows.

  Her belly rumbled, low and long.

  Farther down the road were more buildings, likely belonging to the butcher. In the distance, she could see the stables. It was a misty morning, and chilly. Ailis pulled up her arisaid to fend off the chill, since she didn’t have a wrap to fill in the neckline of her dress.

  More than one person turned to stare at the Robertson colors when she passed by the passageways. She hurried by, not giving them time to start an argument with her. This early, the hall was still full of retainers sleeping on its floor. The men were rolled in their plaids, slumbering side by side, the tables and benches pushed to one end.

  Being in the employ of the laird was a good life for many. The keep kept the snow out better than a rough hut, and men who served as retainers might enjoy three meals a day. They would all be fiercely loyal to Shamus and Bhaic. She stepped lightly as she went through the passageway toward the kitchens.