In the Warrior’s Bed

by Mary Wine

  His gaze lingered on her mouth for a long moment before he turned his mount toward McJames land. He dug his knees into the large animal and it bore him up the hill. Stallion and rider looked as strong as a legend, the edges of his kilt bouncing with the motion of riding.

  Mesmerizing…

  He turned and shot her one last glance at the top of the ridge. She thought she saw him smile but really wasn’t sure at such a distance. Her father’s men swarmed around her, their rough language shattering the moment and allowing reality to rush over her.

  “Are ye daft? Keeping company with a McJames?”

  Her brother Liam spat before pointing a finger at her. “And Cullen McJames, no less.”

  Cullen McJames?

  “It canna be…” Her words trailed off as she looked at the ridge. Another shiver shook her. This time it left goose bumps along her arms and legs. The McJames’s laird’s brother was a bold one and that was for sure. Keeping her name from him had been her saving grace.

  “I never thought ye’d betray yer own clan.”

  Bronwyn snapped out of her own thoughts to stare at her brother. “I dinna betray anyone. I don’t know the man. Dinna even know his name until ye spoke it. How could I know what the man looks like?”

  “It dinna look that way to me.”

  Liam spat again as did several of the men riding with him. They glared at her, condemning her. Her pride bristled but there was never any reasoning with Liam and his men. They would follow him, whatever he said or did because he was the firstborn son and destined to become laird someday.

  She was just an unwanted girl. But that fact wasn’t enough to seal her lips today. Maybe it was the pure magnificence of the man she’d just met or the simple courtesy he’d shown her by tugging on the edge of his bonnet. She didn’t know or care. Liam could choke on his suspicions.

  “I was no meeting him.”

  Liam reached across the space between them, his hand connecting with her jaw in a hard blow.

  “Save yer lies. I know what I saw with my own eyes.”

  He reached down and yanked the reins out of her grip. Liam turned and pulled her mare along with his horse toward the waiting line of her father’s men. Their looks were every bit as harsh as the sting of Liam’s hand. But the only thing she felt was her temper rising. Upon reflection, she noticed just how much stronger Cullen McJames had looked, and it had nothing to do with the width of the man’s shoulders. It was in his smile and the way he didn’t cast ugly accusations with his eyes.

  Aye, it was the truth that she found him handsome. By far the most fetching man she’d ever laid eyes upon.

  “Slut.”

  Her father didn’t strike her. He tossed a goblet full of ale across her body. The hall of Red Stone was silent; no one even took a step as the laird condemned his daughter. No one would, either. Bronwyn gathered her strength because the laird ruled absolutely on McQuade land.

  “This is the thanks I receive for sheltering ye since yer mother presented me with a daughter.”

  “I was not meeting him.”

  Her father pointed at her from his seat on the raised dais at one end of the room. She stood in front of him like a criminal facing her judge.

  “Ye mean to try and tell me that Cullen McJames just happened to be riding down onto my land and it had never happened before?” There were a few snorts from Liam and Sodac. “That ye dinna have an arrangement, thinking that I was away at court.”

  “I do not lie. There is no arrangement between us.”

  Her father laughed. But it was not a kind sound. It was harsh and full of bitterness. “Then explain why his hand was on yer arse?” Liam grunted, helping to paint her guilty. Erik McQuade looked at her as though she were vermin. “How long have ye been letting him use ye, slut?”

  “Never! I did not lay with him.”

  Bronwyn bristled under the harsh scrutiny being aimed at her. Even knowing her sire’s lack of fondness for her, she would not have expected him to cast such filth upon her name. To soil herself was to bring shame on the entire clan. Besides, she knew full well how lowly he treated his own consorts. She had no desire to fall to such a state.

  “Bronwyn does not lie, Father. I have never heard her speak falsely.”

  Erik McQuade glared at his youngest son. “How dare ye raise yer voice against mine.”

  Keir didn’t flinch. He strode forward, uncaring of the hard looks aimed at him from the assembled retainers. He stopped in front of his father, giving the laird the briefest of nods in respect.

  “I state a fact, Father. I have never heard Bronwyn lie. If she says she did not have a meeting with the younger McJames, I believe her. It is also a fact that I have never seen Bronwyn conducting herself like a lightskirt.”

  Her father erupted. He surged to his feet, roaring with outrage. He flung the empty goblet at her brother. It hit him square in the chest but Keir brushed it aside like a bothersome insect. He did not cower in the face of his sire’s rage but stood straight and tall while their father turned purple.

  “Why is fate set to curse me so?” McQuade shook his fist towards the heavens. “It saddles me with a useless daughter and a son who has the courage of Achilles but the temperament of a wife.”

  The laird stood up and swept the room. “We’re returning to court.” He pointed at Bronwyn. “Yer going with me. Until sunrise, someone get this slut out of my sight.”

  There was a scuff of boots against the stone floor as several retainers moved toward her. Keir turned in a tightly controlled motion, his kilt flaring out.

  “No man touches her, save me.” He turned back toward his father. “I disagree with ye.”

  Her father looked as though Keir had struck him. He sat back against the padded chair, shock whitening his face. His jaw worked but no words made it past his lips. Keir turned and hooked her upper arm in one hand. It was a kind grip that she willingly allowed to sweep her out of the hall.

  “This will become worse before it is over, sister.”

  “I know.”

  And there was nothing to do about it. She felt like a leaf that had landed in a spring. The current was sweeping her along without any care for the rocks. There was only the single comfort of Keir willing to champion her. But their father would never forgive such a slight.

  “Ye should not have done that, Keir.”

  Her brother grunted. “Honor is nae a thing that may be ignored when it is difficult to do what is right.” Keir stopped and stared at her. His eyes were dark as night, inherited from his mother. She felt them looking straight into her soul, if such a thing were possible, but she did not look away.

  Keir nodded. “Our father is blinded by hate.”

  Heavy distaste coated his words. Keir began walking and Bronwyn followed. She suddenly felt like a stranger in spite of knowing that she had grown up at Red Stone.

  “Which is why ye should have remained silent.”

  “No.” Keir didn’t raise his voice but that dinna lessen the impact. His tone was solid steel.

  “There’s no need for ye to join me in father’s disdain.”

  Keir shook his head. “I won’t be his hound like Liam and Sodac. If he wants to dislike me for refusing to lick his boots, so be it. He’ll never be able to say that I am not my own man.”

  Bronwyn felt a smile lifting the corners of her lips. She could not prevent it even with such dark things happening around them. But she winced when pain stabbed through her lips. Keir noticed and frowned as he looked at the mark their father had left on her face.

  “I believe court is a good place for ye.” Keir sounded pensive. His face was grave but he nodded. “Aye, I believe it is far past time that ye escaped this castle.”

  “But at what cost? I’ll no help father accuse the McJames of wrongdoing.”

  Keir chuckled. “Ye know our sire too well, Bronwyn. I believe that is exactly what he plans to do by dragging ye to court.”

  Keir stopped talking. Bronwyn cast a suspicious look at
her brother but he refused to comment further. A chill rippled over her skin. She couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding even when she stood in front of the small fire burning in her chamber. A sense of dread clung to her thoughts as she removed her surcoat. The wind whistled between the boards that made up the shutter for the windows. Once her boots were unlaced, she felt the chill of it on her toes. Her chamber had no floor coverings to help keep her feet warm. But one of the kitchen lasses had brought two buckets of water up. They sat near the fire, making her smile.

  At least she would not have to smell of dried ale on the marrow.

  Bronwyn undressed as close to the fire as possible to keep warm. Her doublet and wool skirt dropped to puddle around her ankles once she’d unhooked them. Stepping out of them, she stretched. Her chemise floated around her calves as she hurried to rinse her dress out. Once she finished, she hung it over a rough chair near the fire to dry. Working the lace free from her stays, she listened to the wind shake the shutter once more.

  It was eerie. Icy fingers stroked across her heart as she crawled into bed with her bundle of kitchen scraps. She was grateful for the impulse that had seen her to the kitchens before her ride because it was a sure thing that no one would bring her supper.

  It might have been enjoyable to share the meal with Cullen McJames…

  Bronwyn frowned, but the image of her father’s enemy rose in her memory until it was as if the man stood in her chamber. She recalled him clearly. She’d never met a man who drew her attention so keenly. For the moment, she didn’t argue with her mind’s impulse to replay their meeting. Alone with her thoughts, she might as well enjoy them.

  Who knew what tomorrow would offer?

  He was a fool.

  Cullen actually amused himself with his own thoughts as he returned to the crest of the hill the next day. Late in the afternoon, he kneed Argyll up to the top of it so that he might peer down into the valley that belonged to the McQuades.

  It was empty.

  He should have expected such. And still he had ridden out once again, when there were plenty of other tasks needing his attention.

  He wanted to see her again.

  Cullen scoffed at himself. He dinna even know who she was. Only that she was a McQuade and her laird had likely chastised her greatly for being anywhere near him.

  The sweetness of her face had kept him company most of the night. Something that he’d no been happy about. Not when the lass was so far beyond his reach.

  Kneeing Argyll and pulling the reins to guide the stallion back toward Sterling, Cullen turned his back on the valley. He lacked the patience to chase his sweet-faced lass because what he really desired was to be able to touch her. A pulse of need laced his blood as he rode toward home. It was bitter because there was no way to feed it. She was the only lass that held his interest and she was a McQuade.

  Fate was a siren at times. Tempting and taunting mortal man with the things he could not have. But the one thing that fate had not counted on was the will of a McJames. He had never been a man to settle for being told that he could not have what he wanted.

  He’d learn her name and that was a promise.

  Chapter Two

  A fist pounded on her door at dawn. Bronwyn rubbed her eyes but sat up when the door opened. Her brother, Sodac, strode into the room without a shred of courtesy. She held the covers tight against her body.

  “Father says to tell ye to dress and get to the stables. We’re to leave as soon as the horses are ready.”

  He raked her with a look that was full of loathing.

  “Keir will be staying here, by Father’s command. Best ye think long and hard about what will happen to him if ye speak out against yer laird’s words. A third son needs the good will of his family in this life.”

  She gasped and her brother smiled at her distress.

  “I don’t expect a woman to understand the way the world works. So choose yer words carefully, or better still keep yer mouth shut, Bronwyn. The McJames owe us and we will get our due any way we can.”

  Sodac left and Bronwyn shivered. She wasn’t cold; no, she was horrified at the pure malevolence she’d just witnessed. Cullen’s face surfaced from her dreams and seemed so vastly different from her brother’s. There had not been malice in his eyes, only enjoyment of the moment.

  Her stomach twisted as she crawled from the bed. Aye, there was a great difference between Cullen and Sodac. But Keir did need the goodwill of his family. With his sense of honor, her brother would hold his head high as he was cast aside. That left only her to protect him. She would not lie but there was nothing wrong with remaining silent. Her father had been at court for eight months, banished to the outer receiving area, not even allowed into the royal hall because he’d angered the king with his accusations against the McJames. Maybe she’d be fortunate and James Stuart would refuse to see her father.

  She would hope for the best, anyway. There was no point in dwelling on the darker things that her father might shackle onto her. Red Stone promised to be a colder place now that he’d called her a slut openly. Even if no one believed that she was a lightskirt, they could not miss the lack of affection from her sire. The fact remained that he was laird and Liam set to follow him by tradition. It was even supported by the scriptures.

  Nay, she would not think about the life that was awaiting her after she went to court. Nor would she banish the memory of her meeting with Cullen McJames from her thoughts. It was for certain that she would not be riding again soon, if at all. She would enjoy what she could. Besides, she had felt more in those moments than she had in a year. Cullen had stirred something in her that she had never felt before. There had been so much excitement jumping about inside her that just thinking about it made her heart pump faster.

  Perhaps that was wickedness. But it felt too good to cast aside in favor of a father that called her slut.

  The road to court was long, but it passed quickly as she tumbled her thoughts over and over in her mind. The cold glances of her father’s retainers didn’t even make her shudder. She was far too absorbed with thinking of a way to satisfy her father without damning Cullen McJames.

  To be sure, she would never ride in that valley again.

  A twinge of pain startled her, stunning her as it ripped at her heart. Surely it was impossible to lament never seeing the man again. She had to prevent another meeting because her father would use any contact to damn the younger brother of the McJames family. Besides, Cullen might set to strike at her father through her once he knew whom he’d met. He was a warrior as devoted to his clan as her brothers were to her father.

  And still she felt it. A small rent in the fabric of her heart. It softly throbbed as she pictured his face once again.

  Well, her memories would have to be enough. His family had even more reason to dislike her than her father had to hate him. Her father raided the McJames. Oh yes, she knew it. Cullen McJames would never believe that her father detested her almost as much as he hated the McJames.

  A soft chuckle made it past her frozen lips. It truly was a comedy of errors that she found the man so fetching. Once Cullen McJames knew her name, he would curse her unto hell.

  She should have let him steal that kiss.

  The court of Scotland was filled with men who waited. Bronwyn looked at their pensive faces as she was led through the mass of richly attired men toward the main entrance to the great hall where the king sat. Armed guards kept the velvet-clad hordes from entering the hall without a summons from their monarch. Every set of eyes seemed to be judging her, calculating what she might do to further their cause. To be king suddenly looked like a burden too heavy for any mere man. The guards with their weapons and the press of people all seeking an audience felt thick enough to smother.

  Her wool dress was plain. More than one set of female eyes looked surprised as they raked over her common dress. The women waiting to be admitted into the hall wore lavish gowns made of velvet and silk. There was the twinkle of gold and silver se
wn right onto the expensive garments. Each gown was supported with undergarments that made the skirts wider and grander than her own dress. The women held their arms carefully arched, without resting their hands on the dresses. There were pearls and jewels. Large wigs and powder and paint on their faces.

  Their stays were so long, they looked as though they didn’t have any hips. The abundance of fabric reminded her of her father’s bed with its rich tapestry curtains. Her father held up a parchment, and to her surprise, the guards allowed them to pass into the receiving hall. A ripple of whispers went through those waiting, but Bronwyn lost interest in them as a new sea of faces cast inquiring glances toward them.

  At the end of the hall the king sat. Musicians played in the eves surrounding the hall. Some of his courtiers were dancing but she did not recognize the steps. Still, music was a delight to hear. At Red Stone it was rare because her father refused to offer coin for entertainment. In the spring there would be market fairs, and with the merchants came music. Even if her father’s reasons for bringing her to court were distasteful, Bronwyn couldn’t keep herself from enjoying the music.

  The king suddenly stiffened.

  “McQuade.” His voice rose in a tone that silenced everyone who heard it. Her father seemed to be the only one who didn’t hear the warning. He marched forward and bowed to his king.

  James Stuart didn’t look impressed.

  “I gave ye leave to return home.”

  Her father yanked her forward. Bronwyn stumbled because she wasn’t expecting her sire to touch her; he went for years without placing a finger on her.

  “Aye, I returned home to discover that Cullen McJames has been using my daughter as his whore.”

  There was an instant uproar in the hall. The air felt stuck in her lungs. Bronwyn watched the sea of faces peering at her, their eyes narrowing, dark condemning sneers aimed at her over lace fans. Several of the men smiled at her, invitation clearly written on their faces. Sweat popped out on her forehead while her heart began to race. The king scowled at her.