Iain shared a look with Rory Mac, who gave a nod of understanding. With one swift motion, Iain picked Marion up, snatched her bloody dagger out of her hands, and slung her over his shoulder. His future wife bellowed as she beat her fists against his back. Iain took a long approving look at her perfectly formed bottom. He may not want a wife with his head or heart, but his body certainly responded to Marion’s. He ground his teeth and caught Rory Mac studying him. Iain glared at his friend while handing the dagger to him. “Keep this until the Sassenach does nae want to use it on me.”
Rory Mac grunted. “I may have it forever, then,” the Scot teased as he strode toward the man who’d been lying on the ground, his face in the dirt, but was now struggling to sit up.
“Put me down,” Marion shouted.
Iain ignored her for a minute as he stared at the man who was now standing with Rory Mac’s help. The man wobbled, but Rory Mac steadied him, and then the man looked at Iain. For the second time since coming to Newcastle, Iain stared in shock at Neil MacLeod. He strode, with Marion still cursing and hitting him, toward his clansmen.
“Neil,” he growled, then quickly softened his tone when he realized Neil had blood on the left side of his face.
Neil moved his hand toward his ear and winced. “Froste, the clot-heid, took my other ear and my sword.” He groaned and swayed again.
“Put me down!” Marion demanded again. “I can help him.”
Iain set her on her feet. “Be quick about it,” he ordered, wanting to be gone from this place.
Marion pulled up her skirt, displaying her slender ankles, which Iain found himself staring at until he felt her stare on him. He pulled his gaze to her face. “How can I help?”
She held the edge of her skirt out to him. “Tear this. I need to dress his ear.”
Iain complied, then handed the strip of material to her.
She took it from him with wary eyes. “Do you have any spirits?”
“Aye. For cleansing the wound?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Iain took Neil’s arm and nodded to Rory Mac. “Fetch it.”
Rory Mac tipped his head and rushed off. Iain turned to Neil. “What are ye doing here? Ye did nae mention a word of coming. How do ye ken Lady Marion?” As he waited for Neil to answer, Marion rushed over to the knight Iain had felled. Beside the man was Neil’s sword. As she struggled to lift it, Neil spoke.
“I dunnae, nae truly,” he said, giving Marion a disgruntled look. “My cousin Angus has been her father’s stable master for years, and he recently sent word to me asking me to bring her back to Scotland to the MacDonald clan. It was nae till I got here that he told me the whole of it, that she was to marry Froste against her wishes. He begged me to take her to safety, and I could nae refuse.”
“I’m so sorry,” Marion cried to Neil, dragging the sword behind her as she moved toward them.
Iain turned to help her, but the murderous look she gave him told him she wished to get the sword to Neil on her own. And she did. Her fortitude impressed Iain as she heaved and huffed and finally lifted the sword toward Neil. “I’m sorry you lost your other ear because of me.”
Neil tried to take the sword, but he faltered, and Iain quickly snatched it from Marion. Neil frowned but nodded. “It was nae your fault,” the Scot said to Marion. “It is Froste’s fault. He’s wicked.” They all glanced at Froste, who still lay in a swoon. Neil’s gaze locked on Iain. “May I borrow your dagger?”
Iain knew the man wanted retribution, and rightly so. He handed his dagger to the Scot, and then helped him hobble over to Froste, releasing Neil when he seemed steady. Marion made haste behind them.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered, her voice filled with fear. Did she think Neil would kill a man who could not defend himself?
Neil paused and glanced back at her. “I’m going to take out his tongue so the man can spew no more evil orders.”
When Marion swayed, Iain reached out with his free hand and seized her arm to keep her upright.
“Ye should look away so ye dunnae faint,” Neil commented.
“I assure you I do not faint,” she said, sounding irritated, yet the fingers she had lifted to her temple trembled. “Neil.” Her voice had taken on the soft tone that Iain recognized at once as one of persuasion. “It seems a bit much, almost evil, to take his tongue. Is there not another way to get your retribution?”
Neil tilted his head in thought and then finally said, “I suppose.”
As Neil bent down, Rory Mac approached and gave Iain a questioning look, which Iain answered with a shrug. Suddenly, Neil plunged Iain’s dagger deep into Froste’s favored fighting arm. Froste flinched and howled, and Iain silenced him with a quick punch to the face. Froste fell silent once again, and Marion gasped, turning quickly away. When Neil stood, the three men exchanged a look of understanding and spit as one at Froste’s feet. The man was without honor, and now he was defenseless, at least temporarily.
Silently, Marion turned, took the spirits from Rory Mac, and cleaned Neil’s wounds. He hissed and moaned until the dressing was wrapped around his head. Then he slumped against Rory Mac.
Iain caught Rory Mac’s eye. “I need a minute.”
Rory Mac nodded and led Neil a short distance away. Uncertainty glimmered in Marion’s eyes as he moved close to her so they could speak privately. Immediately, her feminine freesia scent surrounded him. He forced himself to keep his attention on his task.
“How did ye end up here?” he asked, though he’d meant to wait until they were away to have this discussion.
She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, looking so vulnerable that he suddenly yearned to enfold her in his embrace. She notched her chin up as if to tell him she was not sad, or maybe not afraid. “My father is a blackhearted devil who thought to marry me to Froste for the man’s allied knights. To avoid the marriage, I feigned my death and then made my way here. Neil already told you of our meeting.” Her gaze grew flinty. “But you, sir, will be stunned if you think my father will be happy that we are to be married.”
Iain nodded, relieved there could be truth between them. “I ken he’ll nae be happy. Marion, yer king suspects yer father of plotting to overthrow him.”
“What?” she gasped. “Did King Edward tell you this himself?”
“Aye. He suspects that Froste and your father are allying to attempt to take the crown. He wants me to marry ye in hopes Froste will abandon their plot if he cannot have land presently.”
“And what is the benefit to you?” she asked, her tone wounded.
“Edward will talk with the Scots to discuss David’s release.”
Her gaze burned into him. “Marriage to a woman you do not love is a steep price.”
“Aye,” he agreed, his voice gentle as he could make it. “It is, but David is my friend and he needs me.”
She sighed, a long, tired sound. “I was coming to you,” she said. “Isn’t that odd?” Her voice had taken on a brittle, almost shaky quality. He suspected she was on the verge of unraveling under the strain of the day.
“Why were ye coming to me? I thought ye sought a place in yer uncle’s clan.” There was no need to tell her that her uncle would turn her away and bind her in marriage to Iain anyway so that Iain would be bound to the MacDonalds.
“Angus, my friend, asked me to join your clan. He was certain you’d allow it, and might even find me a husband.” She laughed, the gentle rumble tinged with the high notes of hysteria. “I suppose there is no need for you to find me a husband now.” Marion tilted her head back so that her thick pale hair fell over her delicate shoulders.
Long-dormant desire sparked within him, and he had the urge to brush her hair off her neck and let his fingers graze her skin to see if it was as smooth as it appeared. He knew it was not wrong to hunger for a woman who was to be his wife. It did not wipe away his past. Simple lust never could replace what he’d felt for Catriona, yet guilt filled his belly. “So ye’ve decided nae to defy
yer king and marry me?”
She scowled at him. “I do not have a choice! If I stay here, my father will simply force me to marry Froste, and then I would be the wife of an evil, cruel man who is also intent to overthrow the king!” She looked at him dubiously, as if judging how much to say. “I do not think our marriage will stop them.”
Iain nodded. “I dunnae think so, either.”
Her mouth parted at his admission. “So what then? Will King Edward require more of you if my father and Froste continue with their plot?”
“Aye. Edward will require my men to fight to bring down yer father if it comes to that.”
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I was afraid of something like that.” He expected her to weep at the unfairness of it all; instead, she drew herself up and unwrapped her arms from around her waist. “I’ll marry you on one condition.”
He refrained from pointing out that she was in no position to have conditions. It was kinder to let her state them. “What is it?” he asked, motioning for her to follow him. He led her to Rory Mac and Neil, and the men fell into step behind him as the four of them moved down the street toward the horses.
“We must rescue Angus from my father,” she finally said.
“I would never leave a man of mine behind, Marion,” he said, irritated that she’d think he might.
She set her hands on her hips. “What about a woman of yours?”
“It depends on the woman,” he replied, just to see what Marion looked like when outraged. And he wasn’t disappointed. Her eyes glittered in the moonlit night, and her full lips parted as she huffed in a breath that made her chest rise enticingly. Suddenly, all he could think of was what she might be like to join with. Guilt shoved at him, but he shoved back. Lust was not love.
Marion pursed her lips. “Angus is a good man.”
“Of course he is. He’s a MacLeod,” Iain boasted, “and I’ll nae leave him to the likes of yer father. I went to yer home to get ye, and yer father was set to beat him for accidentally starting a fire.”
“What?” she gasped and grabbed Iain’s hand. “We must make haste! When my father gets in a temper, he can become excessive with his violence.”
Iain had a sudden sneaking suspicion. “Did he ever do that with ye?” he asked casually.
“Sometimes,” she said with a shrug that belied the hurt that crossed her face. She lowered her head as they rushed on, and fierce anger burned a hole in Iain’s gut. Death was too good for a man who would beat his daughter. But Iain would not kill de Lacy unless to defend himself or Marion. The king had commanded as much, and Iain would not risk hindering David’s release.
After he secured the weapons onto his horse and then untethered Olaf, Iain helped Marion onto his mount. He swung into the saddle behind her and pulled her between his thighs and against his chest to protect her. She started to wiggle her very soft bottom, but he put a staying hand on her hip. “Dunnae do that,” he demanded through clenched teeth. Lust had taken hold of him, and riding would be painful if he did not gain control.
She stilled immediately. “Please hurry. I must save Angus.”
He was glad the Sassenach was facing forward and could not see him gaping at her. She must save Angus? Her loyalty to Angus pleased him, as did her courage, but God’s truth such courage concerned him, as well. If she was too courageous, she was more likely to do something foolish and get herself killed.
“I’ll rescue Angus and ye’ll remain with Rory Mac and Neil,” Iain said, clicking his tongue to get Olaf to go once Rory Mac and Neil had settled on Rory Mac’s horse. They moved down the street toward the gate that would lead them out of Newcastle and back to Marion’s home.
As they rode toward the same gate through which they’d entered earlier, Iain turned to Neil to ask him of Angus, but Neil was slumped forward in the saddle with Rory Mac holding the man around his waist to keep him upright. Iain had a vague memory of hearing something about Angus, but the recollections were not clear.
He stared at Marion for a moment before speaking. “Why did Angus come to England to work for yer father?”
She turned her head slightly, presenting him with her perfect profile. Her nose wrinkled and then smoothed. “He came with my mother when she was forced to marry my father. Angus felt he owed her a debt. He was to come to Scotland soon after I departed, yet he had to wait a short while to avoid my father becoming suspicious.”
He glanced at Rory Mac to see if he knew of Angus’s past, but Rory Mac shook his head. “I dunnae ken much about Angus MacLeod. Neil never speaks of him, but I do remember my father talking years ago about his friend Angus leaving Scotland for England.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes, but when the iron gates of Newcastle came into view, Marion spoke. “When we get to my father’s home, you must let me go into the castle to save Angus. I am afraid Father will try to kill you and make it seem an accident. He’ll not want me dead, at least not until he has his knights.”
Iain gaped at Marion and noticed Rory Mac was doing the same thing. Rory Mac shook his head, a bewildered expression on his face. Iain scowled at the top of Marion’s head. She needed to understand a few things. “Ye offend me by implying I kinnae keep myself and ye safe.” He slid an arm around her stomach and tightened his hold as they neared the gate. If there was to be trouble, he wanted to have a firm grip on her if he needed to gallop away.
She stiffened under his touch. “You implied I couldn’t defend myself by commanding me to remain behind when we get to my father’s!”
He frowned. “Ye’re a woman.” No more explanation was needed. “I dunnae ken how it was before, but now, ye’ll let me keep ye from danger. Ye will do as I say.”
“Are you always this arrogant?” she demanded, trying to scoot forward on the horse.
Iain pulled her back to him and grinned. “Aye. It’s good of ye to praise me so.”
“That was not praise,” she grumbled. “I fear we will not fare well at all.”
He chuckled. “As long as ye obey me we’ll fare nicely.”
He didn’t hear her response, having shifted his attention to the guards, but whatever she was saying, her tone was sullen and it made him want to laugh again. Taming the Sassenach was going to be fun, and it had been a long time since he’d had any fun.
Three
As they came to the guards of the gate out of Newcastle, the Scot pressed his lips close to Marion’s ear, sending an odd tingle through her body.
“Dunnae speak,” he commanded.
Normally, she would have protested his command, but she decided it would not do to create any trouble when they were in a hurry.
“We need to depart Newcastle,” Iain told the approaching guard.
The man looked up at Marion and Iain. “When you came in, you said you were leaving England. The letter you bring from King Edward grants you permission to leave, not enter.” The guard withdrew his sword and braced his legs. Marion stiffened in alarm, but behind her Iain didn’t move.
“That’s true enough,” Iain replied with an exaggerated sigh. “But King Edward also bade me to marry Lady Marion de Lacy, who ye see sitting in front of me. When I went to her home, her father, Baron de Lacy, was very distraught because she was missing. It seems the lass did nae want to marry an ugly Scot such as myself, so she ran off. I found her here and must now, by orders of your king, take her back to her father to marry her.”
The lie was so smooth that Marion’s stress lessened, and she exhaled a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding.
The knight laughed at Iain’s explanation, but then he seemed to sober. “How do I know King Edward ordered you to marry Baron de Lacy’s daughter?”
Behind her, Iain moved around for a minute and then leaned down and held out King Edward’s written order. “Ye’ll see the decree is signed and sealed by yer king,” Iain said with ease.
As the knight read, Marion considered what was about to occur. She was going to marry a man she did not kn
ow, and certainly did not love. It was exactly the sort of marriage she had not wanted, one born not of love but necessity. She didn’t even know Iain well enough to decide if she thought he was a man she could possibly love in time, yet she had no choice but to marry the stranger pressed hot and hard against her back. The blue-eyed, black-haired chief apparently had no need for a wife with an opinion or a backbone. She turned to eye Iain MacLeod, laird of the MacLeod clan, and he didn’t even shift his gaze toward her, simply kept it unmoving and steely on the guard.
She studied him for a moment. He was not handsome in the style of a traditional Englishman. His dark hair grazed his shoulders and a shadow of stubble covered his square jaw. He did not look a bit refined, but rather tough and sinewy, as if he could kill a man with one blow. And his looks were not deceiving: he was a warrior, as she’d seen with her own two eyes.
Angus was the tallest man she’d ever known, but Iain was taller—and certainly leaner. Angus liked his ale, and as he was an expert brewer, he drank plenty of it and had a bit of a gut. By the feel of Iain’s hard stomach against her back, he must not drink much ale. She faced forward once more. God’s truth, leaning against Iain was like leaning against a boulder. The thickly corded arm wrapped around her middle made her feel alternately safe and trapped. And his large hands… She stole a glance as he spoke to the guards. His hand was spread flat on her belly, which suddenly fluttered as her cheeks heated. It was indecent the way he was holding her, yet she did think he might have been trying to protect her; however, if they were going to be married, she’d have to make him understand she could protect herself. Angus had taught her to, after all.
The sudden groaning of the Newcastle gates as they opened jerked her thoughts back to the present. As soon as they passed through and were far enough away from the guards, Rory Mac startled her when he moved his horse up beside her and Iain, and addressed her. “How does a privileged baron’s daughter ken anything about the healing arts?”
The question didn’t anger her, even if it was a little offensive that the Scot thought her pampered and spoiled. She could see why it would seem odd to him, though. “My mother knew the art of healing and taught me a small bit before she died. The rest I learned from an older woman who lives just outside my golden castle walls.” She couldn’t help but add the last part.
When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) Page 5