No Other Highlander

by Adrienne Basso

  ’Twas precisely the type of marriage that Malcolm had dared to hope he could create. Judging by the expression of devotion on James’s face whenever his wife’s name was mentioned, he believed that his younger brother was well on his way to achieving that kind of relationship.

  Clearly, it was not so very rare. It was possible to find. With a melancholy sigh, Malcolm realized that he simply had to keep searching.

  James gestured for one of the knights in his party to come forward. “I would like to introduce Sir Gideon Croft. Gideon, this is my father, Laird McKenna, my mother, Lady Aileen, and my older brother, Malcolm.”

  “’Tis an honor to meet you all,” Sir Gideon said as he executed a deep, formal bow.

  Lileas poked James sharply in his side with her elbow. “What about me?”

  “Och, forgive me, lass.” James laughed. “Though I believe that Sir Gideon already knows yer name.”

  “He does?” Clearly delighted at the notion, Lileas craned her neck and gazed at the tall, handsome knight. “Does he also know I like horses and dogs and more than anything in the whole wide world, I want a new mother?”

  “I do now.” Sir Gideon bent his knee and twirled his hand dramatically in the air. “’Tis a great honor to make yer acquaintance, Lady Lileas.”

  Lileas dipped her chin and favored him with a flirty smile. “No one ever calls me Lady Lileas. I like it!”

  Everyone laughed. Well, everyone except Malcolm. He was not amused by his daughter’s coy, flirty attitude. Only five years old and already practicing her feminine wiles! Perhaps she did need a mother to take her in hand.

  “I bid ye welcome to McKenna Castle, Sir Gideon,” Lady Aileen said.

  “Ye’re not a Highlander,” the McKenna observed, his eyes narrowing.

  Sir Gideon rose slowly from his bow. “No, Laird. My mother was French. I’m only half Scots.”

  “The better half,” James quipped.

  There was a tense bit of laughter. “I fought in the Crusade beside your son, Laird McKenna,” Sir Gideon said.

  “Aye, and saved my arse a time or two,” James added.

  He smiled warmly at his friend and the tension slowly eased. Highlanders were naturally suspicious of any that were not their own, but James’s approval assured Sir Gideon’s acceptance. At least for now.

  “Come inside and warm yerselves by the fire,” Lady Aileen said, as she entwined her arm with James’s.

  Malcolm felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy at her obvious favoritism, yet could understand her need to hold her second son close. For five years James had been away from them, fighting in the Crusades. He had returned last year, married soon after, then moved to take command of his wife’s keep.

  Though happy to have him back on Scottish soil, Lady Aileen often lamented the journey to see James and Davina took a fortnight—if the weather was fair. But the usual Highland rains and muddy roads that were so much a part of daily life added days of discomfort to the trip.

  Given her choice, Lady Aileen would be content to have all her adult children—and grandchildren—living within their solid castle walls. Yet she understood James’s need for independence, often remarking on how proud she was of the success he had achieved in making his wife’s formerly neglected estate thrive.

  Once inside the great hall, Malcolm signaled for one of the maids. “Make certain Lileas is thoroughly washed and changes into clean garments,” Malcolm instructed. “And clean shoes.”

  The maid scrunched her nose at the offensive odor wafting off the child, yet offered Lileas her hand. His daughter gave him a pleading glance, but Malcolm stood firm, crossing his arms to show her he meant business.

  Lileas’s small hands curled into defiant fists as her pleading turned to a glare. Malcolm never blinked. Lileas’s face began to turn red, but the maid intervened before the child’s fit of temper could be aired.

  A small grin escaped Malcolm’s lips as he watched his silent, pouting, rank-smelling daughter being led away.

  James took a seat on the dais and gestured for Sir Gideon to do the same. Their mother sat beside James, her hand resting possessively on his arm, as though she feared he would vanish if she wasn’t touching him.

  The McKenna seated himself on the large chair, then waved his hand, and the few men gathered in the hall moved away to allow the laird privacy.

  “Is all well? How does Davina fare?” Lady Aileen inquired.

  “Getting bigger every day,” James answered with a grin. “And bossier.”

  “A pregnant wife is both a joy and a challenge,” Malcolm agreed, proud that his voice remained deep and steady.

  The sharp jab of emotion he had experienced when he learned that Davina carried a child had surprised Malcolm, and he was relieved that given time, he was able to successfully bury it.

  Yet feeling his mother’s keen eyes upon him, Malcolm averted his gaze. There were times when she made him feel as though she could read his thoughts and he certainly didn’t want to share them now. He was glad of his brother’s happiness—truly. But the occasional pangs of disappointment that Davina had chosen James over him still lingered.

  “Sir Gideon has journeyed here from the far north,” James said. “He brings troubling news concerning our family.”

  James lowered his head, then cast a quick, sidelong glance at his brother. Their eyes met for an instant and a sudden sense of foreboding crept down Malcolm’s spine. He shook it off, yet traces remained. This had to be something very important to drag his brother away from his pregnant wife’s side.

  “Tell us this news, Sir Gideon,” the McKenna commanded.

  Sir Gideon turned to the laird, his handsome face lined with concern. “As James has said, I was in the north these last few months and heard a most distressing tale about your family.”

  Sir Gideon grew silent as several servants approached, bearing trays of food, wine, ale, and whiskey. The moment they placed the bounty on the table, the McKenna hastily shooed them away.

  “Ye were saying,” the McKenna prompted.

  Sir Gideon drew in a troubled breath. “The MacPhearson laird has placed a bounty on Sir Malcolm’s head.”

  Malcolm slammed down his tankard of ale so hard half the contents spilled onto the table. “What?”

  “’Tis true,” Sir Gideon insisted solemnly. “I heard it from several different men, including one who serves in the MacPhearson guard.”

  “A bounty? Fer what reason? I’ve never done anything to the MacPhearsons to warrant such treatment!” Malcolm cried indignantly.

  “He claims it is retribution for the dishonor that you have placed upon his clan. Specifically, his youngest daughter, Brienne.” Squirming slightly, Sir Gideon pushed the hair away from his face. “A few months ago, she gave birth to a bastard child. They say that you are the father.”

  Malcolm sat back in his chair, too stunned to reply. A bastard child? My bastard child?

  The McKenna’s eyes drifted over Sir Gideon. “Are ye certain that ye heard this right?”

  “I am. The bounty is set at a princely sum and word is spreading,” Sir Gideon replied. “It won’t be long until men hoping to collect it will arrive on your lands.”

  “Is that why ye are here?” the McKenna inquired smoothly. “To collect the bounty on my son?”

  “Father! James pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Gideon is a trusted friend. He comes here today as a favor to me.”

  “And we are grateful fer it, aren’t we, Brian?” Lady Aileen placed her hand on James’s arm and gently guided him back into his seat.

  “I take no offense at your suspicions, Laird McKenna,” Sir Gideon said. “It is a reasonable assumption. But I give you my word of honor that I will never take up arms against a McKenna. I owe James my loyalty and I take that oath most seriously.”

  “Thank ye, Sir Gideon,” Lady Aileen said with a gracious smile. “We are indeed indebted to ye.”

  The McKenna nodded warily, then raising an inquiring eyebrow
, turned toward his eldest son. “What do ye have to say fer yerself, Malcolm? Is this tale untrue? Or could the bairn be yers?”

  Malcolm was too shocked to be insulted by the question. Frowning, he scratched his head, searching his mind for a memory. “I dinnae recall ever meeting any of the MacPhearson lasses.”

  “What about last year’s spring fete?” James asked. “Members of all the clans were in attendance. Could ye have met the lass then?”

  “’Tis possible, but I certainly would have remembered,” Malcolm replied strongly, his voice reverberating off the high stone walls.

  Yet, in all honesty, he couldn’t be certain. Spending several weeks prior to the fete at his brother’s keep had left Malcolm in a peculiar mood. It had been difficult continually witnessing the love and affection James shared with his new wife, a woman whom Malcolm had once hoped to claim as his own.

  The initial relief he had experienced when finally escaping their company had caused some rather uncharacteristic behavior. He had forgone the tournaments and mock battles at the fete—events he generally enjoyed—and instead spent far too much of his time indulging in the fine whiskey that flowed so freely. And flirting with all the pretty lasses.

  Was it possible that he had bedded the MacPhearson lass when he was too drunk to remember? That shameful prospect left a bitter taste on Malcolm’s tongue.

  “Malcolm? What can ye tell us of the fete and the Lady Brienne?”

  His mother’s questioning voice pulled Malcolm from his musing. He felt the heat of a blush rise to his cheeks as he glanced at her. She narrowed her brow, making him feel like a green lad of fifteen. Swallowing hard, he looked away.

  “Ye can speak honestly in front of yer mother,” the McKenna declared. “’Tis better if she hears the words directly from ye, fer it will spare me the burden of trying to remember all that ye said. She badgers me endlessly if I leave out anything.”

  “Aye, there are no secrets when it comes to my children,” Lady Aileen said, leveling an open look at her son. “I want the whole truth, Malcolm. Dinnae think ye need to spare my sensibilities. I’m familiar with the particulars of a man’s needs and desires.”

  All eyes turned expectantly toward Malcolm. The heat in his face rose higher, yet seeing there would be no reprieve, Malcolm cleared his throat. “I do recall that there were a few women that captured my . . . hmm . . . interest.”

  “Ye bedded them?” Lady Aileen asked bluntly.

  Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, Malcolm nodded his head.

  “They were willing?” his mother questioned.

  “Of course!” Malcolm replied hotly.

  Lady Aileen raised one eyebrow. “Experienced?”

  Malcolm barely stifled a groan, then turned a desperate eye toward his father.

  “Och, Aileen, ye dinnae think that any sons of mine have to pay a woman fer companionship?” the McKenna bellowed.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Lady Aileen challenged. “I assume these females were widows, not virgins.”

  “God’s teeth, Aileen,” the McKenna shouted even louder. “Malcolm’s got enough sense in his head not to be getting himself involved with maidens! Don’t ye, Malcolm?”

  Malcolm rubbed the stubble on his jaw and wondered if it were possible for the floor to open, just a wee crack, so that he might slip down into it and never be seen again.

  “The MacPhearson laird is not only claiming that his daughter was seduced, but that she was promised marriage,” Sir Gideon interjected. “That’s why the bounty will only be paid if Sir Malcolm is delivered alive.”

  Malcolm’s head snapped up, jerking sharply, as though someone had struck him. “I might have been in my cups during the celebration, and spent a few of my nights sharing my bed with a woman, but I most certainly would have recalled proposing to one,” Malcolm declared.

  “Hmm, I wonder,” Lady Aileen said wryly.

  Vexed, Malcolm ran his fingers anxiously through his hair while muttering under his breath.

  “If they claim there were promises of marriage, the MacPhearsons are searching fer more than justice,” the McKenna remarked, his voice hard.

  “Why would the laird lie so publicly?” James asked. “These words bring dishonor to his daughter and his clan.”

  The McKenna’s eyes flashed with confusion. “Laird MacPhearson has approached me in the past about forming an alliance. He wanted to broker a betrothal between his son and yer sister, Katherine.”

  “Ye were opposed to the idea?” James asked.

  The corners of the McKenna’s lips twitched slightly. “Not entirely. But yer mother wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Katherine was four years old at the time,” Lady Aileen replied tartly. “I’ll not have any of my children married off without having a say in the matter. Especially my only daughter.”

  “Well, if he wants to form an alliance now, he’s going about it in a most peculiar fashion,” Malcolm grumbled. “I’ll not be forced to wed a woman I dinnae know, nor claim a child as my heir unless I know that it is truly mine.”

  “Perhaps he is acting in good faith,” Sir Gideon suggested. “Perhaps it is the daughter who is lying and Laird MacPhearson is merely trying to protect his child.”

  “Perhaps.” Malcolm took a long sip of his ale, searching for an elusive inner calm. “Or perhaps he is looking for a reason to attack us.”

  “If it’s a fight they want, then we can easily accommodate them,” James declared passionately. “Let them see fer themselves how truly formidable the McKennas are when they are falsely accused.”

  “Calm down, James,” Lady Aileen admonished. “I’ll not be sending my sons into a bloody battle over something this foolish.”

  “With respect, Lady Aileen, the MacPhearson laird is not taking this lightly,” Sir Gideon said. “He has named a sum that will entice many men to try and capture Sir Malcolm.”

  “We cannae let this accusation go unanswered, but we also cannae allow these feelings of injustice and vengeance to fester and spread among the other clans.” The McKenna stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Especially now that the English king, Edward III, has crowned a pretender, Edward Balliol, to the Scottish throne. Our loyalties must remain with our young King David II, even as he seeks refuge in France. He shall return one day and he willnae be able to rule a country divided by clan war.”

  “Mayhap that is part of the MacPhearson’s plan,” Sir Gideon suggested.

  “Whatever the reason, ’tis an insult to Malcolm and a slight to our honor,” James argued.

  “If it’s untrue,” Lady Aileen said softly.

  Malcolm clenched his jaw as a surge of mortification rose on his neck. Though his mother insisted she wasn’t shocked by these events, he had grown steadily uncomfortable under her sharp perusal.

  “I believe that it is a false claim. Yet I’ll need to see the lass to be completely certain,” he admitted.

  The McKenna leaned back in his chair and stared up at the rafters. “We need someone to broker the peace, to gather both sides together and resolve this matter amicably.”

  “You’ll need someone impartial, yet they must be trusted by both sides,” Sir Gideon added.

  The McKenna nodded in agreement. “I want a clan that is allied with us who also has ties with the MacPhearsons.”

  “What about the Armstrong clan?” Lady Aileen suggested. “Their alliance with the MacPhearsons has held fer generations.”

  The McKenna cocked his head. “An astute choice, my dearest. We are related to the Armstrongs through James’s marriage to Davina, but best of all, Laird Armstrong owes us a debt. It appears the time to collect it has arrived.”

  Chapter Two

  Lady Joan Armstrong gazed out the long, narrow, stone window and sighed. The blue sky was edged with dark, ominous, gray clouds, the wind howling with growing intensity. The spring storm that her maid, Gertrude, had predicted by her aching bones appeared ready to arrive at any moment.

  For once, Joan welcomed the sto
rmy weather, as it perfectly matched her stormy mood. What a dismal week! It felt as though nothing had gone smoothly, except that her young son was finally recovering from his cough and fever.

  She felt tired down to her bones, but she had duties to attend to that would not wait. She was responsible for running the Armstrong Castle household and could ill afford to give her father cause for complaint. He had begrudgingly taken her and her child under his roof when Joan left her husband over a year ago and made no secret of the fact that he would relish any reason to send her packing.

  Joan knew that she must never give him any cause. At least not until she had somewhere else to go. That thought brought a rare ironic smile to her lips. She might find sanctuary in a convent, but that idea was thoroughly unsuitable, given her character. Yet more importantly, if she locked herself away behind abbey walls, she would be unable to bring her two-year-old son, Callum, with her.

  He would have to be left behind. Somewhere. She leaned against the cold stone wall, suddenly dizzy at the very thought. Her child was unquestionably the only bright spot in her life; without him there would be little reason to rise in the morning.

  What she craved was a household of her own, but that would only happen if she married again. A shiver of disgust and fear ran down her back. Nay, never again would she give a man such power over her person, would she render herself so vulnerable.

  She had entered into her marriage to Laird Archibald Fraser with blind naïveté, unaware of his true character. Four years later, she had barely escaped with her life and knew the odds of being so lucky a second time were slim.

  Of course, not all men were monsters. Just the majority of them.

  Her cousin Davina was married to James McKenna. The second son of the powerful McKenna clan, he seemed to be an honorable man, yet one could never be certain.

  James was clearly besotted with Davina and she with him, but the glow of passion would eventually fade, leaving Davina vulnerable. Lord only knew what would happen then.