In the Warrior’s Bed

by Mary Wine

  But there was one thing he disagreed with his father on. Bronwyn should have been smothered years ago. Every threat to the McQuade clan had to be cut away without pity. She was a useless girl child; no laird needed daughters draining their gold away when they married. Alliances could be made through the marriage of sons to other lairds’ daughters. That would bring money along with the connection. He was going to make sure no daughter of his own lived to see a single birthday, nor any niece either. Being laird came with responsibilities, after all.

  He turned to look at the chapel. His duty stood there. Liam refused to think of her as his sister. She was nothing but the person who could steal his land. Reaching into his doublet, he pulled a small ball from an inside pocket. It was the size of a gooseberry, but the man he’d bought it from assured him it could kill three men once swallowed. It was a quick poison, one that was impossible to counteract once it was absorbed.

  Exactly what he needed. A death that was suspicious enough for him to wage war on the McJames. His father would be avenged.

  What were they talking about?

  Bronwyn rubbed her eyes. Behind her forehead, tension made her head ache. She fingered the wool of her skirts, trying to remain in place. She didn’t dare turn around or she would be tempted beyond her self-discipline to venture out to where Keir and Cullen were.

  They were the only two people she loved in the world. She needed them to make peace, needed it more than she’d ever thought she needed anything before in her life. With a sigh, she resigned herself to waiting. Men often needed to make peace among themselves without women around.

  A hard hand slapped across her mouth, pushing something inside. She bucked and fought but a brutal hand wrenched her hair down, stretching her neck to a painful angle.

  “Swallow it, sister.” Liam didn’t wait for her to comply. He shoved two thick fingers into her mouth to push whatever he’d placed inside it across her tongue. She gagged on his fingers but he pulled his hand free and she swallowed out of reflex. Whatever it was, it rolled down her throat before she regained control of herself. So surprised by his attack, she sucked in a gulp of air that sent whatever it was toward her stomach.

  Liam threw her away from him a second later. He did it with no care for her at all, his greater strength tossing her against the altar. Pain tore through her side when her hip knocked against the polished wood. Tears sprung into her eyes but she turned to face her sibling.

  He wore a sneer that was chilling.

  Hatred blazed in his eyes. It was a horrible sight, making him ugly beyond anything she had ever seen.

  “What was that?”

  He laughed softly. “A solution that is very much overdue in this family.”

  Icy dread crawled over her skin. “What do ye mean, Liam?” She moved along the altar, the need to flee roaring through her mind. She was suddenly frightened.

  “Father should have dealt with ye when ye were a babe instead of leaving it for me to do.” His eyes flickered with satisfaction. “But it doesna matter now. ’Tis done. As long as Sodac does his part and keeps the elder McJames talking at his supper table, I will have ye on the path to facing yer final judgment.”

  Liam looked at the altar behind her. “A fitting place, too. But I doubt God will forgive ye for turning traitor to yer kin.” His gaze landed back on her. “I know I won’t. I canna wait to tell Keir how much he helped me by keeping that husband of yers busy. Keir is soft on ye. Sodac and I dinna bother even trying to convince him of the need to poison ye.”

  Horror filled her. The hate aimed at her left little room for hope. The small ball in her belly began to burn. Raising her hand, she meant to stick her own fingers into her mouth to force herself to retch. Liam grabbed her before she touched her lips.

  With brutal force he wrenched her hands behind her back. He shoved her forward into the altar, using his body to trap her against it. She strained against him but he held her fast, hurting her as he twisted her arms until the bones cracked. He clamped one hand around her neck, squeezing until her vision started going dark.

  “Just a little longer, sweet sister. That poison cost me a lot of gold. But it will be worth it if it snuffs out yer life and gives me the right to blame the McJames for yer death. Be an obedient McQuade, and die by poison so that I can accuse the McJameses of murdering ye.” His fingers tightened. “But make no mistake, I’ll gladly crush yer throat with my own hands if there is no enough time.”

  He opened his hand enough to allow her one huge breath. A soft chuckle brushed past her ear.

  “Liam…I am yer sister!”

  “A fact that makes it necessary to end yer life. Yer bitch of a mother left ye land. It’s willed to yer offspring. So ye must die. I am yer laird and that land is mine.”

  “Ye’ve got that wrong. Ye are the one who is going to die tonight.”

  Cullen’s voice was deadly cold. Liam jerked but never got the chance to turn to face his death. Cullen pulled his head back by his hair and slipped his boot dirk between her brother and her. The blade sliced Liam’s throat from ear to ear, spilling his blood down his chest while he still held her. His hand tightened around her throat in those last moments, compressing the fragile bones and cutting off her breath.

  Keir grabbed his brother’s fingers, pulling them away from her neck. In his death throes, Liam had more strength than normal, his hand compressing her throat mercilessly. Keir’s fingers gouged into the soft skin on her neck as he pushed them beneath his brother’s. Her vision darkened, dizziness beginning to spin her around.

  A moment later and Liam’s hand went limp. Keir dragged her up and over the altar in a hard motion that knocked her knees against the ornately carved edge of the table. Pain smashed into her brain but there was no time to express it. When she opened her mouth to drag a desperate breath into her burning lungs, Keir shoved his fingers deep into her mouth. There was no controlling the urge to retch. Her stomach heaved with Keir’s fingers touching the back of her throat.

  Two minutes later, humiliation turned her cheeks scarlet. Poised on all fours behind the altar, she shivered, quivering from the violence of losing her stomach contents. The metallic scent of blood filled her nose, making her belly roil once more. If she hadn’t already vomited, she would have when she noticed the warm feeling along her shoulder blades.

  She was drenched in her brother’s blood.

  It made her sick. She retched again unable to contain the horror. The moment she finished, Cullen scooped her up. He cradled her tightly against his body, his arms quivering slightly. She heard a brass bell being rung. The things were set throughout the hallways to be used to alert the rest of the inhabitants to danger.

  “I’m fine.”

  “The hell ye are.” Cullen roared loud enough to shake the glass mosaic window set into the wall. “I wish I could kill that bastard again.”

  “There’s still one rat.” Keir sounded deadly.

  “Ye can’t kill Sodac.” Bronwyn wiggled, kicking against the hold on her, but Cullen refused to release her. “He’s yer brother. Everyone will think ye did it to become laird.”

  “Good, that leaves the bastard for me.” Cullen snarled and went to hand her to Keir. Bronwyn gripped his shirt, refusing to allow him to let her go.

  “Ye must send him to the king for justice, Cullen.”

  The side of his jaw twitched, the muscles running along his throat tense and corded. Keir released her and she stood up, refusing to let her husband go. Rage burned in his eyes, and may God forgive her, she enjoyed the sight of it.

  He cared. Cared enough about her to be enraged.

  “Please, Cullen. If ye hang him here at Sterling, no one will believe any of this happened. Ye will be called worse than blackguard.”

  He growled softly, his hands framing her face. “I can see that ye are going to be nothing but trouble for me, now that ye know how soft me heart is for ye.”

  “No more so than ye are to me, since ye are in possession of mine.”


  He gently rubbed her head, tucking the hair that had been pulled loose in her struggle with Liam behind her ears. “I plan to keep it, lass, and that’s a promise.”

  “I’m glad ye keep yer promises, Cullen.”

  A soft chuckle left his throat, but his eyes remained hard. There was the scuff of boot leather on the stone floor as the McJames retainers responded. They filled the chapel with their swords unsheathed. They surrounded Keir, suspicion evident on their faces. Cullen left her to protect her brother. Bronwyn stood and watched, silly happiness filling her.

  If that was the insanity of love, she was a willing victim.

  Sodac was gone.

  Bronwyn hurried to keep up with her husband and brother. The men rushed toward the hall, only to discover that Sodac had cleared the gate. He must have fled the second the bells began ringing.

  Such an action confirmed his guilt.

  Keir cursed before heading toward the yard. “I’ve got to beat that bastard to Red Stone or I’ll have to besiege me own home.”

  “I’m going with ye.”

  Cullen followed her brother, Brodick joining them, along with Druce.

  The yard became a mass of activity, boys and men all running to get the horses out of the stable. Keir didn’t bother with a saddle. He swung up onto the bare back of his stallion and headed toward the gate, the three McQuade retainers following him. Cullen was two paces behind. Bronwyn didn’t know whose horse she took and didn’t care if they swore she stole it. She was going with them.

  The main body of the men Liam had brought with him was camped over the first rise. It was in pandemonium when they crested the hill, some of the men disappearing over the next rise. Keir reined in long enough to address the remaining men.

  “Sodac is a murdering bastard who planned to poison our sister. I saw it with me own eyes. Follow me if ye be honorable men.”

  Astonishment held the men in silence for a long moment. One noticed her and pointed at her. Suddenly every set of McQuade eyes was aimed at her.

  “My marriage will bring peace to every McQuade.”

  The McQuade men sent up a cheer and swung into their saddles. Keir spurred his horse forward, riding as though the devil himself was on his heels after Sodac and the men following him. Cullen hesitated, reaching out to grab her reins.

  “Ye dinna belong here, Bronwyn.” Fury coated his features along with fear. She stared at that fear. Only she did that to him.

  “This is my fight, too, Cullen. Our fight. We’ll only win it side by side.”

  He cursed. He looked at Keir and the McQuade men following behind him. With a sharp command he took the McJames retainers after them. McJames men surrounded her, keeping her in their center.

  But she never felt her temper rise. Instead she looked ahead of her to where Cullen was closing the distance between Keir and himself. Argyll stretched out his longer legs, using the powerful chest to fuel his charge up the rise. McJames and McQuade plaids mingled and merged into a single body of men all focused on one goal.

  Sodac turned to face the force bearing down on him. A third of the men on his heels had stronger horses and he didn’t have enough of a head start to outrun them. The moon cast a white glow all around them. No torches had been lit but the snow reflected the moonlight. In the silver light there was no telling McQuade from McJames. There were only the two forces facing each other.

  “Hold!” Keir’s voice echoed across the distance. Her brother rode out in front of the men to face his sibling, Cullen joining him. But the retainers surrounding her refused to allow her any closer, one of them yanking the reins from her grasp.

  “Forgive me, mistress, but I canna allow ye into harm’s way.”

  She didn’t have time to quarrel with him. Keir raised his sword and pointed it toward his brother.

  “Sodac! Ye plotted murder of our sister. I heard it with my own ears.”

  “Ye’re a traitor to every McQuade, Keir.” Sodac unsheathed his own sword. “She bedded a McJames, making her a McJames. Killing her is our duty before the king demands her dowry. This marriage will take McQuade land and make it McJames land.”

  Some of the men behind Sodac looked confused. A few shook their heads, clearly disagreeing with the man they rode with. Keir moved closer.

  “Bronwyn’s marriage will end decades of strife that drains McQuade resources. She has honored her position as the laird’s daughter by embracing a union that puts everyone’s welfare first. It will end the fighting that lays our comrades in early graves.”

  There was a murmur of agreement from the men behind Keir as well as many in front of him.

  Keir pointed at Cullen. “Cullen McJames is now my brother by marriage.”

  “Bastard!”

  Sodac charged toward Keir, screaming obscenities. Few men followed him. There was the sound of metal hitting metal, and screams of men who were run through. In the space of two minutes, Sodac and his followers lay on the snow, their blood turning it dark. The retainers surrounding her released her once the night went quiet once again. Bronwyn kneed her horse forward, guiding it around the fallen bodies of her brother’s supporters. A lump lodged in her throat when she looked at the waste. It was her father’s final legacy.

  She swore that it would be. For the first time in her life, being Erik McQuade’s daughter meant something good. She rode up until she was beside her husband. Keir’s blade was darkened with blood, but so was Cullen’s. The two men blew white puffs of breath into the winter night, their breathing harsh from the battle.

  All eyes turned to her. Bronwyn sat proudly in the saddle next to her husband. Some things were better seen than heard.

  Keir turned to face them. “I’ll ride for court in the morning. Jamie will need to hear of this from my own lips.”

  “Aye, ye’ve the right of that…brother.” Cullen reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet. The respectful gesture gained him a cheer from the watching McQuades. Keir returned it to the delight of the McJames.

  Cullen reached across the space between them and pulled her onto Argyll. Male amusement surrounded her, including her husband’s. He clamped her tightly against his body before turning around toward Sterling.

  He could have let her ride her own horse.

  Bronwyn laughed at her own pride. Aye, he could have, but it was so much better that he didn’t.

  Later that night she cried. Actual tears eased down her cheeks.

  “Now dinna look like that. I canna bear it. ’Tis only a dress.” Cullen sounded tired. He leaned against the back of a chair, a faint paleness to his face. Brodick McJames hadn’t been willing to take any chances on there being more poison. He’d sent to the kitchen for purgatives for everyone at the high table. In spite of already losing the contents of her stomach, she’d been fed the noxious concoction the cook had produced.

  There wasn’t a shred of strength left in her now. The tears flowed from her eyes because her new dress was destroyed, blood staining the doublet and skirt. Even soaking would not save it—there was too much, and blood stained like nothing else.

  “It was my only dress.”

  Cullen sighed, clearly frustrated.

  Two more fat tears eased from the corners of her eyes. “I shall have to go to court in that surcoat. There is no time to make another dress.”

  “Dinna cry, lass. It breaks my heart.”

  He stood up and walked into the small antechamber attached to the main one they slept in. He reappeared with a chest. It was a large wooden one that had a lock on it. Cullen fit a key into it. He raised the lid and pulled the green dress that she’d been loaned at White Tower from it.

  “Ye brought it with ye?”

  Bronwyn hugged the skirt and bodice to her chest for a long moment, slightly amazed that she could love something that she had once despised.

  “It wounded my pride the way ye married me in yer chemise. It’s the truth that I wanted to see ye dependent on me for everything after that.” Cullen smiled at her. “I was even
jealous of me own cousin for getting ye a dress.”

  He grinned at her. “I’ll be happy to shower ye with dresses once we reach Edinburgh.”

  He gently pulled the skirts away from her and hung them over the back of the chair. Turning back, he offered his hand to her. It was a beautiful thing, that offer. The power of choice made her bold and she laid her hand into his with a flirtatious smile. Cullen winked at her before leaning over and tossing her right over his shoulder.

  She bounced in a jumble of arms and legs when he dumped her into the center of their bed. He followed her, his large body warm and hard against her own. His lips seeking hers in a kiss that drove away everything but the delight their skin made when it connected.

  Chapter Thirteen

  1603

  The court of James of Scotland was pensive. As winter held the country in its grip, rumors of the impending death of the English queen circulated. Elizabeth Tudor was ill and every rider who approached the court was cause for attention. She had ruled longer than any other monarch—both English and Scot—but her time was near. She would do one last thing with her death, and that was to unite two countries that had warred with one another for centuries. James Stuart would wear the crown of both countries, making it one.

  Bronwyn set up house in the McJames city house while her husband awaited permission to attend court.

  “Mistress Bronwyn, the tailor is come to see ye.” Sybil lowered herself before shepherding in a party of men all intent on staring at her. Assistants followed them, their arms heavy with bolts of fabric. There were French silks and damasks, rare velvet, and costly brocades. Bobbin lace and trims that must have taken months of work to make were laid out for her inspection.

  “I dinna need such things.” But her voice lacked conviction. She reached out to touch one silk, too tempted by its luxury to resist feeling it at least once.