Forbidden Night with the Highlander

by Michelle Willingham

  Lianna raised her eyes to his, pleading, ‘Will you speak to Father on my behalf?’ She knew her best hope was to flatter her brother’s ego. ‘You should be the clan chief, not a stranger.’ She steeled herself and said, ‘If you can stop this marriage, I would be so grateful.’

  Her brother did appear irritated by the idea of losing command. ‘You are right that I should be the leader of our people. Father is sick, and we must be prepared for the worst.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. Her heart did worry over Alastair, for even during these past summer months, he had struggled to overcome a hacking cough. Sían had offered to take over his duties, but their father had refused. His pride prevented him from accepting help.

  Sían took her hand and patted it as if she were a child. ‘Does this Norman truly think he can trespass upon our land, plant a babe within you, and steal all that we have worked for?’ He met the gazes of their kinsmen, who appeared as angry as he did. ‘It will not happen.’

  ‘Perhaps it could be avoided,’ Lianna suggested. ‘Give him another bride, if he wants an alliance with us.’ Surely there was a young maid who would not mind living with a wealthy Norman.

  ‘He can have your maid, Orna,’ Sían remarked with a hearty laugh. ‘As old as she is, she won’t mind at all.’

  But Lianna did not share in his laughter. She stood and walked away from the men, knowing that Sían would not be serious until they were alone. As she hoped, he started to follow. ‘Peace, my sister. We will walk awhile and talk about this.’

  Which meant he would discuss nothing in front of their kinsmen. She understood his need to remain a respected leader among them.

  They walked in silence for half a mile before Sían turned serious. ‘You are frightened of this marriage.’

  ‘I am,’ she admitted. ‘I hope that the Norman will turn me down, that he will not want a woman like me.’ No one did, for she knew most of the men made fun of her behind her back. They didn’t understand her, and she didn’t expect them to.

  ‘It matters not if he wants someone like you. He would not willingly surrender command of Eiloch,’ her brother answered. ‘Our lands hold value, and he will want to gain favour in the sight of the English king by claiming them.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be me,’ she whispered. ‘Why can we not ask him to go back? If we pay him, he may consider it. I have saved some silver over the years.’

  Sían’s eyes clouded a moment. ‘Indeed.’ Then he let out a sigh and dropped his arm across her shoulders. ‘I will not let any man hurt you, Lianna. I promise you that. Especially not a Norman bastard.’

  She wanted to believe her brother could defend her, but this agreement had been made before she was born. Not only that, but she knew the strength of the Norman warriors. They could tear the clan apart, leaving the crofters’ homes in ashes.

  Fear sank its claws into her, and she tried to steady herself. Right now, she needed a mindless activity to help occupy her time. The winter stores could be reorganised, and she decided it would be a good distraction.

  ‘Is there someone else you would rather wed?’ her brother asked. With a light teasing tone, he added, ‘Someone you have your eye on?’

  The image of Gavin MacAllister suddenly invaded her mind. His body had filled out the MacKinloch clothing he wore, and she had welcomed the feeling of his arms around her. Even his kiss had captivated her senses.

  Her face flushed, and her brother’s expression gleamed. ‘Who is he, Lianna?’

  She covered her cheeks and shook her head. ‘No one.’ To avoid answering questions, she turned her back.

  Sían laughed quietly. ‘You will not tell me, I see.’ He only ruffled her hair and said, ‘Don’t fear, Lianna. I will handle everything. You need not wed this man.’

  ‘What will you do if the Normans will not listen to reason?’ she asked. She knew better than to think it would be an easy escape.

  A sly smile came over her brother’s face. ‘Don’t worry your head over that. Trust that I ken what is best.’

  She wanted to trust in him, but could not quite bring herself to do so. Sían never prepared for the future, but made decisions depending on his moods—and his decisions changed by the hour. Although she might love him as her brother, he was utterly unreliable. But she wanted to believe that he would intervene on her behalf, if she asked it of him. She had to hold on to her faith.

  Worry gripped her with the fear of her father dying. After her mother’s death in childbirth when Lianna was eight years old, he was all she had left. Although she had never understood Alastair’s fierce desire for a Norman alliance, he had been a kind and loving father. More than once, he had confessed that he wished she had been the firstborn son.

  ‘I know that you care for our people,’ he’d said. ‘You see what they truly need, instead of what they tell others to salvage their pride.’

  His praise had warmed her heart, and because of it, she’d tried to fill the emptiness left behind by her mother. Davina had kept their house immaculate, and Lianna had tried to do the same. By holding on to her mother’s ways, it was a means of remembering her.

  Sían walked back with her to the fortress, and Lianna parted ways from him, moving towards the thatched shelter that housed the entrance to the underground storage chamber. She climbed down the ladder, adjusting her woollen brat against her shoulders. All along the stone walls, she had organised food stores by grains and fruits. Now, she wondered if it might be better to sort them according to the month the foods had been harvested. It was nearly autumn, but she was well aware that there was a dire lack of supplies.

  After an hour of sorting, she had regained command of her fear. It was frigid below the ground, and she climbed back up the ladder, only to see her brother on horseback with several men. They were gathering weapons, and she overheard one of the men jeering about the Normans. Her brother had a bow and quiver of arrows strapped across his shoulder.

  Had Rhys de Laurent arrived, then? A sudden uneasiness caught her heart, and she picked up her skirts, hurrying towards them. ‘Sían, where are you going? Why do you have weapons?’

  He wasn’t planning an attack, was he?

  Her brother only smiled. ‘We’re going hunting, Lianna. You said yourself that we’ve a lack of food.’

  She wished she could feel a sense of relief, but one of his kinsmen had an axe strapped to his waist. It was not a weapon meant for hunting animals, and she could not relinquish her suspicions, despite his words.

  Sían smiled at her and added, ‘Don’t you want fresh venison or pheasant?’

  His tone bothered her, for she was deeply afraid that he meant to attack the Norman travelling party. If he did, it would bring war among them, and she had no doubt the soldiers would slaughter any man who raised weapons.

  In a low voice, she warned, ‘Sían, don’t do anything foolish.’ She didn’t want to outwardly accuse him in front of his men, but she sensed his lies.

  His thin smile transformed into a sneer. ‘I am doing what is best for all of us, Lianna.’ With a mocking smile, he added, ‘We wouldn’t want any predators threatening our people.’

  She needed to speak with Alastair, in the hopes that someone could deter her brother. He might be able to reason with Sían, to make him see that violence would only beget more fighting. And if he threatened the Normans, it would undermine her own chance at freedom.

  Her brother was already striding towards the others, and she called out, ‘Sían, wait!’

  He only raised his dagger in a mock salute, while his kinsmen laughed and mounted their horses. A flock of crows flew over their heads, and a premonition passed over her. If they attack, they’re going to die.

  She knew better than to think that she could stop them from whatever they planned, but perhaps her father could. Lianna hurried back to the house, not knowing what would happen.

  But Sí
an had to be stopped.

  * * *

  Rhys de Laurent sat among his men by the fire, watching the golden flames flare amid the peat. Although the clan chief, Alastair MacKinnon, had offered them shelter at his home, he’d wanted to bide his time a little longer. He knew better than to think the Highlanders would welcome Norman soldiers among their clan. But now that he had decided to go through with the betrothal, they would travel to Eiloch in the morning.

  He was glad to have these last few hours to clear his head. His mind was caught up with a thousand questions he could not answer. He had gone to meet with Lianna MacKinnon to see what sort of woman she was. He’d predicted that she would be soft-spoken and timid, obeying her father’s bidding. Instead, she had met his gaze with her own courage. There was something about her that intrigued him—and now that he’d had a taste of her, he wanted more.

  Once, he’d thought about switching places with his brother, allowing Warrick to wed Lianna in his stead. Yet, now that he’d tasted her lips, he wouldn’t even consider it. He had kissed her to satisfy a curiosity, to see if there was a woman of fiery spirit to match her red hair. Instead, he had found that she was innocent, confused and scared. Her kiss had been sweetly unknowing, as if it were her first. But in time, she had warmed to his touch, and he now believed that she would make a good wife for him.

  God in Heaven, it had aroused him beyond all imaginings. Her palms had rested upon his chest, and she had opened to him, offering him her own yearning. When she had straddled his leg, allowing him to stroke her mouth with his tongue, he’d nearly lost himself. He had become a different man, one caught up beneath her spell.

  He would indeed accept this woman as his bride. And although he had once imagined leaving her behind in Scotland, now he was reconsidering. It might be best to take her back to England with him.

  And more than all else, he was looking forward to claiming her as his own.

  ‘You look besotted,’ his friend Ailric remarked. ‘Was she fair of face?’

  If fair of face meant hair like a sunset, and skin that resembled the petals of a rose, then yes.

  ‘She was,’ Rhys agreed. ‘In the morning, we will go to Eiloch and you can see her for yourself.’

  Ailric poked at the fire until a shower of sparks scattered across the air. ‘I hope that your marriage will be as good as mine is, my friend.’ There was a fleeting glimpse of longing on his face. His friend had been wedded for only a year, but already his wife Elia was expecting their first child.

  ‘You shouldn’t have come with us,’ Rhys said. ‘Better to have stayed home with your wife. This journey to Scotland is too far. What if Elia gives birth while you are away?’

  ‘With another mouth to feed, I will do what I must. Better that I can earn silver from service to you, my lord. We will need more, soon enough.’ He leaned back against a log, a gleam of joy in his eyes. ‘I hope that one day you will know the happiness I’ve known. To see love in your wife’s eyes and know that hers is the first face you’ll see in the morning. To touch her belly and feel the faint kick of your son beneath her skin.’ He shook his head as if he could not believe his good fortune. ‘’Tis a wonder, indeed.’

  ‘You will see her soon,’ Rhys promised. ‘God willing, I hope to return to England within a fortnight. I must bring Lianna back to Montbrooke so that the betrothal document may be signed and witnessed.’

  ‘Was that not already done when she was born?’

  ‘It was, but our fathers demanded that both of us must give our consent to the marriage.’ Rhys shrugged. ‘It will not take long, and we will be wedded after that.’

  He wondered if Lianna would be glad to marry him, once she learned the truth. It didn’t sit well with him to lie to her, but perhaps she would understand his reasons. He hadn’t wanted her to judge him on his Norman heritage before she had known him as a man. And he had found her more desirable than he’d imagined.

  ‘God grant that you both are happy,’ Ailric said. He stood in the darkness, and there came the sound of horses approaching.

  They were not expecting visitors at this hour, and Rhys signalled for his men to be on alert. Instinctively, he reached for his sword. It might be Alastair and his kinsmen, or it might be a threat.

  The hoofbeats ceased, and silence descended over their camp. Footsteps approached, and Rhys turned towards the sound, his hand upon his sword hilt.

  Only seconds later, he heard a cry from his friend. Horror washed over him when he turned back and saw an arrow embedded in Ailric’s chest. His friend crumpled to the ground, and God help him, Rhys knew it was over.

  He seized Ailric’s shield, releasing a battle roar of anguish. Then he charged into the darkness, his rage and grief swelling like a tide. He didn’t know who had dared to attack, but their assailants would pay the price with their lives.

  A tightness filled up his chest as Rhys kept his shield up, barking commands at his men to raise their shields and form a circle. It was difficult to see more than shadows in the night sky, but he caught a blur of motion and used the moment to attack. Fury poured through him with the need for vengeance.

  As he slashed out at a faceless enemy, his rage mingled with grief. No longer would Ailric see his wife’s smile in the morning, and his friend would never hold his newborn son.

  Rhys’s sword cut through human flesh, and he heard a man cry out as he was struck down. He ended his enemy’s life, and his men held their positions, waiting for the Highland raiders to approach.

  So, they had asked him to wed the chief’s daughter, only to attempt a slaughter in the middle of the night? They would soon learn the strength and power of his forces.

  One stepped into the light, clearly one of the MacKinnons, given his clothing. Damn them for this. Rhys had deliberately stayed back from the clan, not wanting to bring fear and war among them. But now that they had attacked like cowards in the night, they would see no mercy.

  In the Norman tongue, he ordered his men to keep their shields up and pursue the Highlanders. His heart hardened, his emotions turning to stone. He had no idea how many there were, but any man who dared to attack would feel the edge of his blade.

  For Ailric.

  Another raider emerged, but he was no match for six trained Norman warriors. One by one, they defended themselves against the remaining raiders—but there was still the unknown archer. None of these men had a bow among them.

  Rhys sent out three men to scout the number of horses. ‘How many are left?’ he asked, when they returned.

  ‘There were four horses,’ one answered. ‘So at least one raider is still out there.’

  The archer, Rhys guessed. And if his horse was still here, then so was the man. ‘Spread out,’ he ordered them, in the Norman language. ‘Keep your shields raised and find that archer.’ He would not rest until they had found them all. And if Alastair MacKinnon was responsible for ordering this raid, then Rhys would see every last member of the clan driven out of Eiloch.

  His men obeyed the command, leaving Rhys by the fire. He deliberately remained behind, wanting the light to guide him. He kept his shield raised, listening for the sound of the last Highlander.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ he called out to the man, using the Gaelic language. ‘And I know you have to hide in the shadows. Because you know that you are no match for Norman fighters.’

  He sensed a ripple of motion and lifted his shield, just as an arrow struck the wood. It came from the opposite direction, but Rhys held his position.

  ‘Arrogant Scot,’ he jeered. ‘Was this your chief’s idea? To kill us all, before I claim his daughter as my bride?’

  One man did step into the light, and he held another arrow nocked to the bow. ‘You think I would let you claim what rightfully belongs to me? I should be the leader, not you.’

  ‘These are my lands by birthright,’ Rhys contradicted. ‘You hold no claim t
o them.’ He stared at the young man, noting the overconfidence in his bearing.

  ‘I’m going to kill you, Norman. And your head will be displayed at our gates.’ He released another arrow, but Rhys blocked it again.

  ‘Your aim is poor.’ He kept his shield up, circling the man. Footsteps approached, and one by one, his men returned to join him. ‘Was it your idea to kill us in our sleep?’

  ‘It was,’ the man taunted. ‘And you’re still going to die. Norman bastards.’

  As are you, Rhys thought. Because of this man, one of his most trusted soldiers was dead. If he lunged forward, he might be able to strike the archer’s bow away, leaving him defenceless. But he would have to lower his shield.

  ‘You cannot kill me,’ the archer said with a sly smile. ‘Do you know who I am?’

  With that, Rhys dropped his sword and unsheathed the knife at his waist. He threw the knife at the man’s heart and saw the look of shock in the Highlander’s eyes as the blade struck true. His enemy dropped to his knees, the bow falling from his hands.

  ‘I know exactly who you are,’ Rhys said softly. ‘The man who killed my friend.’

  * * *

  Lianna heard the outcry at dawn when the Norman soldiers arrived. She hurried outside and saw them leading horses...with the bodies of Highlanders draped across the saddles. Her throat closed up with terror, her hands shaking.

  Last night, she had begged her father to send men after her brother, but Alastair had refused. He’d said that Sían would listen to no man’s counsel, save his own. If he dared to attack, then that lay upon his shoulders.

  And though she knew Alastair was right, her father should have tried. For now, she dreaded the worst.

  The blood drained from her face, and Lianna stepped back against the outer wall of the house, trying to hold back the wave of fear. She knew, without asking, that Sían was dead. He hadn’t been hunting deer or game at all. He’d been hunting the Norman soldiers. And from the looks of it, none had survived.