Highland Spitfire

by Mary Wine

  “Really? He never looked at ye the same way? Ye are…”

  “Beautiful?” Brenda shook her head in disgust. “It’s more trouble than it’s worth. Believe me.” A knowing gleam entered her eyes. “There’s something I know about. The way men look at women. It’s different when they merely want a ride. Bhaic…well now, he wants to possess ye. I was merely a plaything, maybe a challenge once or twice, but nothing beyond a diversion.”

  There was lament in her tone that touched something inside Ailis.

  “Be grateful, Ailis,” Brenda said softly. “I know ye most likely want none of me advice, but ye are a fortunate woman to have more than duty and respect in yer union.”

  “I know it well,” Ailis agreed, deciding to count her blessings instead of quibbling over her husband’s past.

  “Even if ye doubt yer husband’s feelings?”

  Ailis shrugged. “I suppose, I’m surprised is all. Still trying to believe it.”

  Brenda smiled and laughed. “Aye. Every now and again, life is too good to believe. I met a man once who struck me in such a way.”

  A far-off look entered her eyes. It tugged at Ailis’s heart—she knew the sting of loneliness.

  “Where is he?”

  Brenda looked startled, her cheeks turning pink. “I was promised. He was honorable. It doesn’t matter where he is, for my life is still no’ me own. I am Symon’s cousin. Me mother was his father’s sister. So I was used to settle alliances. As ye know well.”

  “I do.”

  “Me husband had no affection for me, but I can nae fault him, for he was ordered to wed me as well.”

  “I begin to understand why I should nae judge ye,” Ailis said.

  Brenda offered her a naughty, knowing look. “Good. For it would have been very unfair of life if I had ended me days without ever knowing what it was like to have a man in me bed who made sure I enjoyed it as much as he did.”

  Ailis ended up returning Brenda’s smile. It was a strange conversation to say the least, but she didn’t have it in her to think badly of Brenda. Her own fate might have been very much the same.

  Aye, she’d be grateful.

  Someone began ringing the bells on the walls. Finley appeared from outside the passageway, making it clear that he wouldn’t be giving her any privacy when there might be danger.

  But it was Brenda who drew her attention. The normally poised woman looked pale. She watched the entrance of the great hall with a nervous expression on her face. A few moments later, Symon Grant appeared, his men on his heels.

  “What’s the matter?” Ailis asked.

  Brenda steadied herself as she clenched two handfuls of her skirt. “For all that yer marriage seems to be a happy one, I have no desire to be used as a pawn again.” Her voice lowered to a mere whisper. “Forgive me. Bhaic is one of the few men I knew I might hide behind.”

  “But ye would have had to trade yer favors for it.” Horror was nearly gagging her, but it wasn’t jealousy this time. It was Brenda’s plight.

  Brenda cast her a forlorn look. “Bhaic is a rare man. He’s kind when seeking his pleasure and returns it measure for measure. Be sure, most men are not the same. And I would nae have had to wed him.”

  “Brenda,” Symon called out. He’d stopped in the hall, looking toward her. “Do nae make me come and get ye. I rode through the night, and it rained too.”

  Brenda stiffened, but she moved out of the passageway. “I force naught upon ye.”

  Marcus was with Symon, and Bhaic appeared in the passage doorway.

  “Me father sent me to fetch ye, Brenda,” Symon said gruffly. “And I do nae appreciate being taken from his side.”

  “Ye should have sense enough to realize a fool’s errand and refuse it.”

  Symon drew in a deep breath. “Alliances are nae a fool’s errand.”

  “When it involves forcing me to wed a Gordon because yer father is too far gone to realize naught will settle Colum Gordon’s rage except time, I say it’s a fool’s errand. The man’s son was just killed. He wants vengeance, and I’ll no’ be going as the lamb.” Brenda shook her head. “Go home. Yer father is dying.”

  “He’s yer uncle.”

  Brenda pressed her lips into a hard line. “That may be, but I will no’ be going to Gordon land. So it looks as though I can nae be going to Grant land either.”

  “Brenda is me guest,” Ailis said clearly, “for as long as she wishes to stay.”

  Several crashes came from the back of the hall as the women listening dropped things in shock.

  “Are ye sure about that, lass?”

  Ailis turned to find Bhaic behind her. Brenda sent her a disbelieving look, but the desperation in her eyes made Ailis nod firmly. “Of course I am. To do otherwise would be to doubt yer sincerity.”

  Bhaic slowly grinned. His eyes flickered with an emotion that was bright enough to blind her. He stepped toward her, capturing her hand. “Well now, we couldn’t be having that.”

  “No, we couldn’t,” she agreed.

  The hold he had on her hand sent her doubts crumbling. She was suddenly so sure she held his heart, it filled her with a sense of joy that made her want to spin around and around like a gleeful child.

  “Brenda…I did nae ride through the night to go home empty-handed,” Symon said.

  Bhaic’s expression tightened. Ailis could see the indecision in his eyes. Symon would soon be Laird of the Grants. Bhaic had to tread carefully.

  But she didn’t.

  “Well now, ye do nae need to.” Ailis turned around to face Symon. “One of yer kinswomen has need of escort back to yer land. Ye will be lifting a burden from Marcus’s shoulder. Yer father will be happy to hear what a service ye performed.”

  Marcus sent her a cutting look before Symon turned to lock stares with him. “What woman is this?”

  “There was some sort of misunderstanding… I’m no’ sure of the exact details…” Ailis continued. “Yet Helen has asked to return to her father’s house, but couldn’t very well go unescorted.”

  Symon wasn’t a fool. He crossed his arms over his wide chest, aiming his topaz eyes at her. The man was pure Highlander, but amused enough by her cunning to indulge her changing the topic.

  “Where is this Helen?”

  Marcus’s knuckles were white. But he nodded toward Skene. “Fetch her up here.”

  “Ye’re playing with fire,” Bhaic warned her softly.

  “As if he has nae played with us enough to be deserving of it.”

  Bhaic snorted in her ear. “Ye’re going to be a very good mistress of this hall. Ye give as good as ye get.”

  She warmed under his compliment as Marcus glared at her.

  Lyel appeared with Helen in tow.

  “Helen,” Ailis said, “I was just telling yer laird’s son how ye wished to return to yer father’s house.”

  Helen pulled her arm from Lyel’s grip with a satisfied look on her face. Symon didn’t miss it. He turned to look at Marcus.

  “Did ye steal her from me father’s land?”

  Marcus lifted one shoulder, completely unrepentant. “I did, and I kept her from ye when ye were here before.”

  People were shifting closer, making sure they got a good view. Bhaic pulled Ailis back when she started to move forward again. “Nae, lass, there is going to be a fight,” he whispered in her ear.

  Symon slowly chuckled. “Ye always have been a rascal when it comes to the lasses.”

  He turned and gestured Helen forward. Lyel adjusted to his new duty of taking her to her laird’s son. Symon considered her from head to toe for a long moment as the hall remained in silence.

  “There isn’t going to be a fight,” Ailis argued.

  Bhaic leaned down and nipped her ear. “I know me brothe
r, lass. He’s no’ going to let Helen go, and if he does, I will never let him forget it.”

  Ailis jabbed him with her elbow, but the beast only wrapped his arm around her to keep her from doing him any damage.

  “What’s this now?” Shamus made his way into the hall from another passageway. He peered at Symon, starting to grin until he realized that Helen stood there too.

  “So ye did nae take the lass home?” Shamus said to Marcus as he shuffled into the hall and sat down on the high ground. “I suspected ye might not. She’s a fetching sight and no’ afraid of ye. I do nae think I’ve seen another lass stand up to ye the same way. Certainly never seen one knock ye to the ground! The lass wields a pitcher like a broadsword.”

  There was a rumble of amusement in the hall, but Marcus merely grinned, the curving of his lips far more promise than anything else, and he was looking straight at Helen.

  She lifted her chin and looked back at Symon. “It’s far past time for me to go home.”

  “Oh… I see…” Symon smirked at Marcus before turning his back on Ailis. “We have a difficulty here.”

  “So it seems,” Marcus agreed.

  “I am only a laird’s son.” Symon spoke slowly, menacingly.

  “As am I,” Marcus answered firmly.

  “Which means…we’re equals.”

  Marcus nodded, starting to walk in a half circle around Symon. The retainers fell back, taking Marcus’s doublet when he shrugged out of it. Symon was doing the same, both men stripping down to their shirts and kilts.

  “So this is a matter between men,” Symon concluded.

  “It is,” Marcus confirmed.

  “It is no’!” Helen interrupted. She stepped right up to Marcus, tilting her head back so she could make eye contact. She stood up to him with her jaw steady. “I will nae have the pair of ye fighting over me. I choose to go home.”

  Marcus’s lips split and curved into the biggest grin Ailis had ever seen on his face. “Ye can choose me, Helen, or I’ll fight for ye.” He reached out and caught her arms, pulling her to him as he tilted his head to the side and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth.

  She stiffened and shoved away from him. There was a loud smack as she laid her hand across his cheek. “Toad! Arrogant bastard! As if I’d fall down at yer feet simply because ye told me to.”

  He chuckled at her temper before jerking his head at Lyel and Skene. They hooked Helen by her arms and pulled her out of the way.

  “Ye can nae let him do this…” Ailis implored her husband.

  Bhaic only tightened his arm around her. “Ye will nae be getting yer way with both Brenda and Helen. Me brother has his fair share of pride. Just as ye do.”

  She couldn’t argue with him.

  Symon and Marcus circled, sizing each other up. They connected with a harsh grunt and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. It was brutal. They were like huge bears, well matched in both brawn and spirit. Blood brightened their noses, and eyes began to swell. The men around them threatened to raise the roof as they cheered and placed wagers.

  Neither man went down easily, and both of them got back on their feet, even when they were staggering. Marcus finally caught Symon, pinning his arm and slamming him to the floor. Symon growled, trying to gain his footing.

  “It is done!” Shamus shouted from the high ground.

  Marcus held on for just a moment longer before he snorted and got off Symon.

  “Shake hands, ye devils.”

  Symon cocked his head to the side before he put out his arm. Marcus was grinning, his teeth bloody. He clasped Symon’s wrist. The men around them cheered.

  “Well now, that’s the business,” Shamus said. “Join me at the table, Symon Grant. And where is Bhaic?”

  Bhaic started off to join his father.

  “Thank ye,” Brenda said, her voice only a whisper. “I do nae deserve it from ye, Ailis, but I’m properly grateful.”

  “Everyone deserves to be happy,” Ailis said. “Maybe ye can find the man ye remember.”

  Her expression became pensive. “He’s likely long wed now.”

  There was a note of defeat in her voice, but the tension was easing from her expression.

  “Well, at least ye will no’ be wedding this month.”

  “Aye,” Brenda said. “One day at a time. I think young Helen needs ye more than I.”

  “Actually…” Ailis leaned back so Finley wouldn’t hear her. “I’m wondering how grateful ye might be. Ye have two waiting women riding with ye, do ye nae?”

  Brenda regained her poise. “Indeed I do.”

  “And ye have some relations ye might wish to go visit?” Ailis suggested.

  “I certainly do.” She sent Ailis a long glance. “And indeed I will. Ye have me word on that.”

  “Good.”

  “Yes. Whenever.…my ladies are ready, that is,” Brenda confirmed.

  Brenda moved down into the hall and took a seat at the high table. Ailis waited for Helen to find her. She was fuming.

  “Worry not, my friend…” Ailis leaned in to whisper in her ear. Helen slowly stopped grinding her teeth, her expression becoming one of victory instead.

  “It will nae take Marcus very long to reason out where I went and how it happened,” Helen warned her.

  “That’s a warning for ye as well. Be sure ye want to leave, because if ye do, I believe he might come after ye,” Ailis warned quietly. “But the choice should be yers.”

  “I thank ye for that,” Helen answered. “Truly.”

  Her husband wasn’t going to be pleased.

  Of course he’d also be amused.

  That thought put a smile on her lips as she made her way to the high table. Bhaic lost interest in the conversation as she came close, rising to pull her chair back.

  He’d be both annoyed and impressed. Which was right in keeping with their union.

  She discovered she liked it full well.

  And loved him above all else.

  How could she not? He was a MacPherson after all.

  * * *

  “Ye do nae have to worry about Helen.” Bhaic was stroking her hip, his hands gentle now that they were both satisfied. “Marcus will behave himself.”

  Ailis choked and raised her head from where she’d been resting against his chest. “If he does, I will be most impressed. Yer brother is a savage.”

  Bhaic pushed her head back down but not before she got a glimpse of his arrogant grin. “That’s part of his charm. He’s a Highlander through and through.”

  “Ye likely think it only fitting, since ye have managed to steal me heart,” she said softly.

  “Ye’re a Robertson. I am duty bound to steal everything of value from ye. But ye have it right about Marcus, he has a savage streak in his nature. Helen is no’ afraid of him. That’s what fascinates him, ye know. The way she stands up to his growling.”

  “I am still no’ going to approve of keeping her here and insisting she wed.”

  “Has it turned out so badly for ye, then?” He rolled her onto her back and settled beside her, one of his thighs covering hers as he cupped one of her breasts.

  “I am completely yer captive.”

  “Good, because I could no’ allow the keeper of me heart to leave.” He smoothed his hand down to her belly that was just beginning to round.

  “No more than I could stand to leave,” she said. “But…”

  He raised his attention to her face. “There is the little matter of yer father informing ye that ye would have to pay him a visit.”

  Bhaic gave her a pinch. She poked him between the ribs in retribution. “Are ye saying ye are nae as bold as me father, who has come here…twice?”

  “Nae, I’m saying I’m no’ as great a fool as yer father—”
/>
  He rolled back as she slapped his chest, following the blow with several more playful ones. He clasped her to him and rolled her over onto her back once more. There was little point in struggling. She was already opening her thighs to allow him to settle between them.

  “Yes…” He pressed a kiss against her mouth. “I will take ye to see yer father.” He pressed a longer kiss against her mouth, teasing her lips before lifting his head. “But I am no’ going to let him hit me again.”

  Ailis raised an eyebrow.

  He flashed her a grin, and she laughed.

  Complete…perfection.

  With a MacPherson.

  Fate had a very fine sense of humor.

  About the Author

  Mary Wine is a multi-published author in romantic suspense, fantasy, and Western romance. Her interest in historical reenactment and costuming also inspired her to turn her pen to historical romance with her popular Highlander series. She lives with her husband and sons in Southern California, where the whole family enjoys participating in historical reenactment.

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