Highlander's Prize

by Mary Wine

  “So ye came here. For what, Daphne? Did it amuse ye to watch me chase ye? Or have ye decided ye are more content to wed me after letting me think ye dead?” Part of him failed to understand why he was displeased to see her. After all, the woman had a handsome dowry to go with her fair features; all he would need to do was wed her to insist her father pay it. Daphne glared at him and pointed one of her delicate fingers straight at the center of his chest.

  “I will never wed you,” she declared with enough heat to douse some of the flames his temper was burning with. “It sickened me to see ye and Faolan fighting over me. With every meeting, the pair of ye were moving closer to trying to kill each other. Think ye I could bear such a burden?” She lifted her hands into the air. “But I’m wasting me time trying to make ye understand. All ye saw was the alliance with me clan and the gold I’d bring ye and this beauty, which time will dull.”

  Broen drew a stiff breath. “Mind yer slicing tongue. I’m no’ the one who deceived ye. I’ve the right to be angry. Me father was run through on account of yer choice to no’ face me with what ye’re saying to me now.”

  “Yer father was greedy,” Daphne accused. “I told him me reasons, and he even agreed that the match with me was poisoning yer relationship with the Chisholms. Donnach Grant had the wisdom to give me shelter, but yer father refused to leave in peace. He came after me because he did nae want to lose the gold me father had promised him when ye wed me. What does gold matter if ye are dead at the hand of one of yer best friends, or I’m widowed because the pair of ye cannae remember ye’ve been friends since yer milk teeth fell out?” Her face was flushed with anger, and she was moving toward him. “How dare ye lay it at me feet? I am no’ some vain English noblewoman so selfish as to watch others die because I crave position and power. I entered the convent to prove life was more important than one wedding.”

  Broen stiffened, suddenly understanding why he hadn’t seen Daphne’s face in his dreams. He hadn’t ever truly loved her, only the idea of having her as his bride, his possession, exactly as Clarrisa would have been to the king. He’d been thinking of his bride as his property, nothing else. The difference was clear to him now, and he felt it because Clarrisa had come to him with the expectation of nothing more than sharing his company.

  He was a fool.

  “Yer point is well founded.” He shook his head and bit back a curse. “It shames me to admit it, but ye’re correct. Faolan and I were acting like savages, and it was no’ out of love. We were trying to best one another by bringing home the best dowry.”

  She scoffed. “I never thought I’d be so happy to hear a man admit he did nae care for me.”

  “I did nae say that, woman, but I agree what I feel for ye is no’ true love. ’Tis the affection of growing up together. But ye’ve caused trouble now equal to what I was doing with me fighting with Faolan. Ye could have returned without this trickery, which has put Clarrisa in danger.”

  “No, I could nae.” She shook her head. “I pity her, the English York bastard. She has to suffer more than just two men fighting over her.”

  “Names, Daphne. I need to know who me enemy is, for I’m going after her. Why did Donnach withdraw his support of ye? Who’s behind his sending ye back to me?”

  “Lord Home sent a letter to Donnach Grant insisting he put me off his land. Donnach owes Home a favor and told me he had no choice but to make good on the debt. Me father is a royalist, and Home is hoping our union will lead to the MacLeod splitting since I do nae have a brother.”

  “And he wants Clarrisa as well.” It made too much sense, for Home was a brilliant strategist when it came to battles. Even the idea of splitting another clan would be attractive to the man. But Home was also opposed to anything English. He’d turned his back on the king because James kept running over the border to England for sanctuary.

  Fury boiled through him. “Damn ye, Daphne, for helping her escape Deigh.”

  Daphne smiled. “Ye’re wrong, Broen. I thought long and hard on the matter, and Kael Grant is her only hope, since ye cannae refuse to receive me and Lord Home knows ye have Clarrisa. Sutherland no doubt received a letter too. Would ye hold out against yer overlord, knowing it might cost yer clan the protection being in his good will provides? Clarrisa was nae willing to see ye face that burden. Ye’re caught as surely as she is. Donnach owes Lord Home, and ye are betrothed to me. Home will use the contract between us to force ye to give him Clarrisa.”

  “But Kael has been playing the unpredictable son. No one knows his position for sure,” Broen finished for her, feeling like the walls were collapsing upon him. “And Clarrisa cannae return to England, for fear Henry will have her killed to ensure his bloodline maintains the throne.”

  Daphne nodded. “Clarrisa made the choice to leave. She could see it was the most logical action.”

  Broen shook his head, every muscle drawing tight with rejection. “She chose to leave because she does nae trust me, but mark me words, Daphne. I plan to change her mind. Ye should nae have helped her leave the safety of this keep. For that, I am right unhappy with ye.”

  “But—”

  “Ye should have recalled what it meant to ye to have sanctuary granted by Donnach Grant when ye needed it.”

  “Sutherland will nae allow ye to keep her.”

  Broen shook his head. “Sutherland might well send me a letter or two, but the man will surely no’ waste more effort on the matter. He’s certainly no’ going to march his men upon Deigh for one Englishwoman.”

  “But we are contracted. Now that I have been forced from my hiding, the church will force ye to wed me to hide their attempt to keep me—”

  “They will no doubt try, but I’ll see to annulling our contract, since ye have no desire to wed me. It will nae be the first time such has happened, and ye should have thought upon that before helping Clarrisa to take such a foolish action.”

  Relief spread across her fair features. It should have needled his pride. Instead, it pleased him. “I still think of ye kindly, Daphne, but it’s the truth I prefer ye as a sister. Ye had more insight than I did. Me father should have put the matter to me; this is nae England, where affection is nae something desired in a marriage.”

  She smiled, and when she did, her face became a radiant vision. Even with her hair barely brushing her shoulders, she was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on. But she did not draw him to her.

  “Enjoy the meal. I believe ye’ll find it lavish after living in the convent.”

  She scoffed. “Where are ye going?”

  “To regain Clarrisa.”

  ***

  At first sight, Bronach Tower was everything she’d been raised to expect of a Highland fortress. Clarrisa tried to conceal her apprehension but couldn’t stop shivering. The stone was dark. Both towers had few windows, and Kael Grant rode across a narrow bridge to reach the gate. Clarrisa followed, looking down to see a river thick with chunks of ice. Falling in would be a death sentence because the current was swift and the banks steep. They had traveled farther north, which accounted for the ice. The winters would be longer and harsher here.

  At last, she found something that suited her mood. The towers were desolate, and her heart felt as cold as the water flowing past them. She’d done what had to be done. So why did it feel so horrible?

  “Ye needn’t look so forlorn, lass,” Kael Grant commented. “I might take it personally.”

  The son of the Grant laird was a man full grown. He was Broen’s opposite, with midnight-black hair and dark eyes. There was a gleam in his eyes that hinted at wickedness, but it didn’t make her breathless. All it did was make her think of what she’d chosen to leave behind. Broen was a proud man; he’d not follow her. But as soon as she thought about it, she scoffed at herself, because the entire reason she’d left was because Broen couldn’t keep her. The facts of the rest of the world were set against them. Not that she could truly expect him to want to keep her. She’d warmed his bed, and men did not fe
el the same devotion to their bed partners as women did.

  Yet another fact set between them.

  “We are strangers, so there is no reason for you to take offense. Even then, I’m English. Wouldn’t you consider my disapproval a compliment?”

  Broen had…

  She had to stop thinking about the man. He was bound to another, and she didn’t want to birth his bastard children. It was best to leave him now, before her affection grew any deeper. But she felt worse every moment…

  Kael laughed and was joined by some of his father’s men. “Ye have an understanding of Highlanders I’d nae expect in an English lass.” His tone was lighthearted, but there was a flash of warning in his dark eyes that told her he was more focused than his outward appearance betrayed.

  “When will we go north to Sutherland?” She needed to set her mind on where her future was headed.

  “When I’m ready to.”

  Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to swallow the lump threatening to choke her. “Your sister claimed you would keep your word.”

  “I will, when it’s safe to travel.” He waved two burly retainers forward. “Until me father and I decide upon the matter, ye’ll be staying in the solar. Me sister hates it.”

  “I believe I’ll discover myself agreeing with her.”

  He grinned. “We’ll see.”

  There was a warning in his tone. She found herself wondering if he meant to cast doubt on whether or not he’d take her to Sutherland as Nareen had promised or if he cared about her opinion of the solar.

  Not that it mattered. She climbed several flights of narrow stairs before reaching the solar. It was a round room, built across the width of one of the towers. A maid scurried in to open the shutters of the single window.

  Dismal indeed, and dank. Obviously no one bothered to open the window’s shutters very often. Fresh air blew in, but it brought her no sense of relief. It felt like grief was wringing her heart—which was insane, for she couldn’t believe herself enamored of Broen. Not the man who’d…

  She stopped, recalling the Scottish king and her uncle’s demanding face before she’d left for Scotland. Finally she recalled the look in Broen’s eyes when he’d asked her for a kiss. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she lost the battle to resist admitting how much she hated leaving him.

  But she’d have been a greater fool to remain. Daphne was his betrothed. They were as good as wed. The only future she might have with him was as his leman. Such a choice might suit her heart well, but she had no right to inflict such a life on their children. They would have no place, as she had no place.

  So she’d taken the opportunity to leave. It might well land her in a worse place, but she’d be the only one to suffer. Small comfort, but all she’d receive.

  She’d never see Broen MacNicols again.

  Except in her dreams.

  ***

  “Chisholms riders on the ridge!”

  Broen cursed, enjoying the opportunity to express his feelings while the priest might allow it.

  “I did nae think he’d ride all the way here for the lass.” Shaw muttered as he frowned.

  Broen stopped for a moment, earning dark looks from his captains. “Since he’s here, maybe the day will nae be such a loss.”

  He headed for the yard, leaving Shaw confused. “What did he mean by that?”

  The other captains shrugged before following their laird.

  ***

  Faolan Chisholms was furious.

  He’d brought his retainers and Broen found himself facing a force that looked ready to wage war.

  The damned country was dissolving into chaos. Clan was pitted against clan because their king wasn’t strong enough to lead. Broen raised his hand, palm forward to indicate a truce, so he and Faolan might talk. It took a moment before his fellow laird mimicked the gesture and rode forward.

  “Let’s hope yer luck holds,” Shaw muttered. “I admit I did a few things when we returned from smoothing things over with the Grants that I’ve nae received absolution for.”

  “It’s me the man wants to run through. I believe yer soul is safe, at least until ye go seeking that absolution.”

  His man tugged on the corner of his bonnet before Broen let his stallion have his freedom.

  “Ye’re a bloody poor excuse for a friend, Broen MacNicols,” Faolan snarled.

  Broen leaned over the neck of his stallion and shot Faolan a sharp look. “I believe I said the same thing to ye when ye claimed me captive and planned to present her to our uncle when ye did none of the fetching.”

  Faolan snorted. “I had a fine reason. One I’d expect ye to understand. Our friendship is longer than most.”

  “But we forgot that when it came to the matter of fair Daphne MacLeod. Look at ye, man, ye’re ready to challenge me while reminding me how long we’ve been friends, and I was doing the same before she was taken from us. But I’ve had to admit recently that I was fighting over her worth and not the lass herself,” Broen muttered. Faolan opened his mouth but shut it without making his argument. The need to disagree flickered in his eyes but he resisted it and drew in a deep breath before replying.

  “Ye’re correct. I’ve nae truly thought about it but I was ready to strangle ye over her.” His expression tightened. “I still am.”

  “I’m ashamed to look back at the way we were behaving,” Broen responded.

  Faolan’s captains were getting restless, easing forward to protect their laird as the night wind carried their raised voices to where the Chisholms retainers waited. Broen’s men were looking no more at ease. The day had worn everyone’s nerves raw.

  “Ye rode all the way up here to carry on the fight. Do ye have tender feelings for her or just for her dowry?”

  Faolan shook his head. “A fair-enough question. Ye rubbed me temper, and no mistake. Why have ye become so content with the situation? Ye left for England intent on vengeance, as I recall.”

  “Aye, but I also went to prevent a threat of a bloody feud.”

  Faolan’s eyes narrowed. “Ye’ve gone soft for that York bastard.”

  “Her name is Clarrisa,” he snapped. “And I am no’ soft for her.”

  “Then why the sudden insight into our sins over Daphne?” Faolan challenged.

  “All right, Clarrisa is responsible for some of me change in thinking, but I’ve only known the woman a short time. Do nae be casting any ideas at me that include affection for her.”

  Faolan opened his mouth, but Broen cut him off. “No’ just yet, man. I’m no’ adjusting to knowing a woman can twist me feelings.”

  “All right, no’ now,” Faolan agreed.

  Broen nodded. “Now, let us get on to what needs doing. Since ye’re here and me friend, I need a favor from ye.”

  Faolan’s eyebrows rose. “A favor? It’s ye who owes me for slipping out of me castle—”

  Broen grinned, and his friend cursed.

  “Ye’re an arrogant bastard, Broen MacNicols.” He sighed. “What do ye want? And do nae tell me ye do nae want something from me, for I know the look well. But I can see ye do nae want to ask me, so I’m curious what it is ye want badly enough ye’d ask another man to do it.”

  “Ye’re a smug bastard,” Broen countered.

  “But I’m correct tonight.”

  Broen ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached, but there was no help for it. “I need ye to fetch Clarrisa back for me.”

  Faolan appeared stunned, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Ye mean to say ye’ve lost the little lass?” He chuckled before tossing his head back and laughing loudly enough to send his men to stroking their beards in contemplation of just what the two might be discussing.

  “Kael Grant has returned, and his sister helped Clarrisa escape me keep, while I was up listening to the man explain why I should nae run him through over me father’s death.”

  Faolan sobered. “What did he have to say?”

  “Something I’m still contemplating, but it’s worthy of st
epping back. I’m nae feuding with the Grants for the moment. But that will only stand if I get Clarrisa back. I can go after Kael meself—”

  “But it would be far simpler for me to pay the man back for using his sister to do ye a disservice.”

  Broen nodded. “Exactly. One deception deserves another. Do it for me, and I’ll see ye get the opportunity to settle accounts with Daphne.”

  “How do ye plan to do that?”

  Broen tilted his head to one side. “She’s inside Deigh.”

  “She’s what?” Faolan growled. “Do nae think to fool me so easily.”

  Broen stared his friend straight in the eyes. “Ye asked me why I noticed how we’d been fighting over the lass. It was Daphne who pointed it out to me. Kael brought his sister along this morning, and I set her inside me keep while I listened to Kael make his peace. She took a waiting woman, who turned out to be Daphne. Seems she ran to the convent to avoid seeing ye and me at each other’s throats. I’m ashamed to admit she was less foolish than both of us.”

  Faolan simply stared at him for a long moment. “That damned woman needs to be—”

  “Respected for thinking about both of us above her own future. I’ll be annulling my contract with her. She swears she will nae wed me, because of the harm it does our relationship. Daphne MacLeod has grown into a woman with good sense.”

  Faolan wanted to argue, but he clamped his mouth shut and his face turned red. “Ye’re right. May Christ kick me in the balls, but ye’re right.” He shook his head. “Daphne is right.” He suddenly started laughing. “But I’m damned happy to hear she’s alive. Maybe I can sleep again.”

  “I will nae rest until I have Clarrisa back. Ye can help me or no’, but I’m going to regain her.”

  Faolan studied him for a long moment. “Now ye are the one sounding insane. She’s a woman ye’ve known for a single week. What does it matter if Kael has her?”

  “It matters to me because I brought her here, and I will nae see the woman’s blood spilled. I stole her to keep a feud from beginning, no’ so someone could slit her throat because they believe she’s too dangerous to remain among the living.”