by Mary Wine
Faolan nodded. “Aye, I can see yer way of thinking. There is no honor in allowing the little English lass to fall into the wrong hands, and I’m sure I do nae need another ghost keeping me from me rest. Yer Clarrisa may be English, but she has a fire in her that could see her materializing in our hallways if we let her be murdered. I’ll see what I can do about getting Kael to welcome me into his keep.”
Faolan rode back to his men. Broen watched him go, frustration threatening to drive him insane. But he controlled the urge to ride after Kael. He wasn’t a man who enjoyed letting others do things for him, but the world was becoming a bigger place. No clan survived without alliances and making the most of those connections. Kael Grant was unpredictable. For the moment, he had Clarrisa, and the man knew Faolan had been fighting with him over Daphne.
Faolan had a much better chance of making it into Kael’s tower. One Broen wasn’t sure he had. If he rode up to the gates of Bronach Tower, Kael would know for certain he wanted Clarrisa back. Such an action would expose his Achilles’ heel, something a wise laird never did, not even with a man he considered his ally.
But it meant he was reduced to placing his faith in another. When it came to Clarrisa, he didn’t care for waiting.
He scoffed at himself, trying to counsel his emotions. There were many reasons for leaving Clarrisa with Kael. With the snow gone, the royalists would no doubt be moving to gain access to the prince. He should be focused on the battle looming ahead. Blood was going to flow; he didn’t doubt it. The fact that Clarrisa had been brought to the king would no doubt be even more incentive for the two sides to clash. James had always been too close to the English for any Scotsman to tolerate. Trying to breed himself an English, royal-blooded heir was inexcusable when the man had legitimate sons.
Aye, he should be focused on the powder keg his country was. Instead, he was looking across the hills toward Grant land and cursing Kael for taking Clarrisa.
Actually, she had left of her own free will. The knowledge stung.
He should leave her to the fate she’d chosen, but the kiss she’d given him at sunrise still burned. She was still a prize.
His prize.
Six
“Do ye believe ye made the correct choice, Clarrisa of the York family?”
Clarrisa stiffened but controlled the urge to jump. She turned smoothly to face Kael Grant. Why was it all Highlanders seemed to be huge? Kael was leaning against the doorway, looking relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that betrayed just how on guard he was.
“Your sister seemed to agree it was the best action.”
Kael grinned, and the expression gave him a rakish appearance. “Which surprised me, for me sister has a wild streak in her.” His eyes flashed a warning at her. “I expect Nareen would stay with her lover no matter the circumstances. No matter what I thought of it.”
Clarrisa ordered herself not to blush. Kael Grant would not see her jumping at the bait he so skillfully dangled in front of her nose. “Then you are accusing your sister of being selfish and considering no one but herself. I doubt she would thank you for such, and I disagree with you. Your sister did not strike me as a disloyal person.”
“Thank ye, Clarrisa. As ye can see, men bluster just as often here in Scotland as they do in England,” Nareen announced from somewhere in the stairwell. Kael laughed, tipping his head back and filling the chamber with the sound of his amusement. His sister appeared, clearly vexed by his demeanor.
“And females try the patience of their kin here in Scotland too,” Kael added with a dry hint of sarcasm.
“Aye, for ye see, if I were his mistress, he’d label me spirited,” Nareen announced with a toss of her hair and not a single hint of remorse for the indecent nature of her comment.
“Obedience has its place in a mistress,” Kael muttered suggestively.
Nareen frowned, her cheeks flushing with color at last, but she shook it off quickly. “Get on with ye, Brother mine.” She aimed a solid blow at his arm, and he recoiled from her but grinned, making fun of her attempts to chastise him.
Two retainers followed Nareen, carrying a bathing tub between them. Nareen directed them with a confident gesture. The men set the tub down and tugged on the corner of their knit bonnets, but they were trying to sneak peeks at Clarrisa while offering respect to their mistress.
“Enough, ye rogues,” Nareen muttered. “I’ve a mind to go tell the priest about yer roguish peeping.” They offered another tug to Kael before disappearing.
“Ye’re a harsh lass, Nareen. I pity the man who weds ye.”
Nareen propped her hands onto her hips as a line of boys came into the solar with yokes across their shoulders bearing buckets of water to fill the tub.
“Oh, do ye now? And but a moment ago I thought I heard ye declaring to all how I’d stay with me lover.”
One of the boys dropped his bucket, splashing water onto the floor. Kael watched the lad try to mop up the mess while his fingers fumbled.
“If any member of this family is bound for shaming our mother, it will no doubt be ye, Kael. Now get ye gone. This is women’s work,” Nareen declared.
Kael pushed his lower lip out into a pout, which looked ridiculous on a grown man.
But Clarrisa laughed. “I agree with you, Nareen. Best to begin praying for his soul now. He looks in need of redemption.”
Kael raised one finger. “If ye want to know me transgressions, lass, well remember the scriptures do warn ye no’ to judge, which means ye’ll be needing to be me partner in sin, if ye intend to be in the proper position to accuse me.”
“I’ve been in your Highlands long enough to know pretty manners will not help me survive here. Save your bragging for a woman interested in what you have to offer her. I am going to bathe,” Clarrisa informed him.
“Maybe I’m interested in viewing what ye have to offer me.” His voice had dipped and was edged with suggestion.
“It would be a waste of your time, unless you have a taste for forcing yourself on women.”
He straightened, the amusement fading from his face. She’d offended his honor, but she didn’t back down. Her chin remained level as he aimed a hard stare at her.
“So ye have courage, Clarrisa of the York family, something I can admire and it explains why Broen has no’ sent ye north.” Something flickered in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. The man was pure devilment—she doubted there was anything on earth that he feared.
“So now that ye have the information ye wanted, Brother, get ye gone,” Nareen insisted.
His lips twitched again, and satisfaction appeared in his eyes. “Ye judged me correctly, Nareen.” He kept his eyes on Clarrisa as he spoke and actually reached up to tug on the side of his bonnet before he disappeared.
Another ripple of sensation traveled through her, but this one was warm. Many would label her a fool for enjoying the man’s approval, but she did.
“Men,” Nareen muttered. “I fail to understand what God was thinking when he created them.” One of the maids sputtered. She was young and stared at her mistress.
“When there are no men about, we may be truthful at last,” Nareen informed the girl. “They have no tolerance for it, though. Best ye remember that.”
Clarrisa laughed. “Your brother might be an exception. I believe he was amused by my insults.”
Nareen shrugged. “Possibly. But he’s here so rarely, I forget he is entertained by me more than he is offended.”
The maids had placed two large kettles on hooks and pushed them into the hearth where they’d built a fire. Water was beginning to boil and escaping over the top. The drops sizzled on the sides of the hot metal. Another set of footsteps was heard on the stairs, and Nareen waited while a woman entered with a clàrsach.
Clarrisa stared at the small harp. “Really, you need not pamper me. I am not a princess.”
“Ah… but ye need no’ tell anyone such and deprive us of the chance to listen to our harper while we work.” The wome
n in the solar laughed good-naturedly as Nareen began to unlace the back of her gown.
A woman set the wooden harp on a small table and pulled a stool up close to play it. She drew her fingers along the strings, producing a magical sound before she began to expertly use the different tones to produce a melody. The chamber began to fill with the sounds of the clàrsach. Clarrisa discovered her toe tapping in time with the tune. There was nothing barbaric about the clarsàch. Yet another thing she’d been raised to believe of Highland customs that wasn’t proving true. More than one English noble had attempted to outlaw the clarsàch because it was deeply rooted in Celtic tradition.
“Pleasing, is nae it?” Nareen muttered. She took the dress when it was lifted off Clarrisa and twirled around in a circle in time with the tune. The blue wool fluttered before she allowed one of the maids to take it from her and hang it up.
Clarrisa battled against the urge to hug herself and keep her underrobe on.
“Do nae be so modest. We’re all women here.”
Clarrisa looked at the chamber door. “I wish there was a bar there.”
Nareen laughed. “Because of me brother? Aye, I know the feeling of wanting to ensure he cannae sneak up on ye.” She came forward and helped lift the over robe up from the front. “Do nae worry. I’ll deal with him. Besides, Kael has as much boldness as arrogance. He’ll no’ resort to peeping. There is one of the few things I am sure about when it comes to me brother’s nature.”
Clarrisa laughed softly. Nareen raised an eyebrow, doubling Clarrisa’s laughter. “I actually feel sorry for your brother now. You are a good match for him.”
Nareen scoffed. “Do nae. He’s a true rogue. Whatever I might do to him, he’s earned it in one way or another.” There was a sizzle and a splash as the hot water was added to the tub.
“Now in with ye, before it cools. Hot baths do nae remain hot very long here.”
Clarrisa realized she was becoming more at ease without her clothing. She stepped into the tub while contemplating the wicked thought. It was really more of an idea, one that had to do with her confidence.
She admitted to enjoying her body. Such a confession would surely gain her a judgment of being sinful, but it was no less true. In spite of a childhood spent being instructed to abhor pleasure of the flesh, no shame prickled across her conscience as the maids helped to bathe her.
It had been delightful to be in Broen’s bed.
Tears burned her eyes, and she drew in a stiff breath to dispel them. She had done what was best. That knowledge seemed of little comfort, but she’d continued to remind herself of her reasons and hope time would ease the pain of parting. It wasn’t right that she longed for a man she’d known for so little time.
But he knew you more intimately than any other…
She held off the tears until Nareen and the maids were gone. Wearing another dress she did not own, she stood in front of the window, looking out at the day. She had no idea what to do with herself.
***
Lytge Sutherland growled, “Can no one complete a simple task these days?”
His eldest son peered at him without comment.
“Mind the way ye judge me with yer eyes, Norris. The day will come soon enough when ye’ll have to be thinking how every little choice will affect ye and yer holdings.”
“I was nae judging ye.”
“But ye were nae agreeing with me, boy,” Lytge insisted with a soft growl.
Norris sat forward. There was an unmistakable maturity about him, and his body was definitely a man’s. Lytge took a large swallow of ale, wondering where the years had gone.
“Aw… do nae say it, Norris. I’m in a foul temper, but I’ve no’ changed me mind on wanting only honesty between us. There are lairds aplenty who will shine me ass and tell me it smells of spring heather, but no’ many who will speak the truth.”
“Well now… A few more weeks into spring and with the right lass for company, ye might get yer backside to smell of heather.”
The maid serving the high table dropped her pitcher, spilling amber ale across the polished surface of the wood. His father pounded it with his fist, sending the wide-eyed girl fleeing from what she perceived as her laird’s displeasure.
Norris waited, an eyebrow raised as his father glared at him. “Maybe no’ that lass. She’s a bit skittish still. Give her a few years to gain some confidence. I’ll see what I can do to help her along.”
Lytge sputtered before losing the battle to hide his amusement. “Ye’re a wicked boy, Norris. I hear the priests battle between them to see which of their number is forced to suffer yer confessions.”
“It’s more a matter of which one of them gets the enjoyment of the entertainment I bring to their dull duties.”
Lytge sucked in too much ale and choked. “I’m going to end up building them a new wing to the cathedral to save yer soul from damnation.”
Another maid arrived to wipe up the mess, this one showing more cleavage than the last. She leaned over while cleaning, offering Norris a clear view of her breasts, before taking her soiled linens away with a sway of her hips.
“Someone has to give these lasses the attention they crave.”
“Well, that one will have to find another tonight,” Lytge grunted. “I need ye to ride down to MacNicols land and fetch that York lass here. She’s got connections to powerful men.”
Norris lost his teasing demeanor. “Broen MacNicols is a good man, one I trust. If he has the lass in his keeping, the king will nae succeed with his scheme.”
“It is too risky to leave the matter open. Better to have her here, where we control whom she lies down with.”
Norris’s expression darkened. “Say what ye mean, Father. If ye distrust the man, be plain with me. If ye’re hinting at me taking her as a bride, say so. Ye are nae the only one who craves honesty between us.”
Father and son faced off for a long moment before Lytge lowered his voice.
“I distrust the situation. Broen MacNicols is free from his contract with the MacLeod lass. He stepped up and stole the York lass, for which I’m grateful. Besides, maybe I’m thinking of wedding the lass meself. Old Lindsey cannae boast such a blue-blooded wife, and I would enjoy putting the man down.”
“And Broen MacNicols has no reason to leave the lass untasted.” Norris chuckled softly. “Are ye sure ye trust me to deliver her untouched?”
Lytge leaned forward with a smirk on his lips. “No’ if ye’re any true son of mine. But if it troubles ye, as I said, maybe I’ll wed her meself. I can sure think of more vexing ways to needle old Laird Lindsey. Wedding a royal-blooded lass would be one slight I’d enjoy giving.”
Norris threw his head back and laughed. Plenty of his men watched, but they knew to stay below the high table. Men of his father’s station always had to fear a spy, even from among their own clan members. All it would take was a cousin who had been married into another clan at some point to turn one of the loyal retainers into a source of information during a family feast while the ale flowed freely. So his father and he kept their conversations private.
He pushed back from the table. “As ye command, most respected Father.”
Lytge rubbed his hands together while watching his son stride down the hallway.
Norris was pure Highlander, the long pleats of his kilt swaying as he walked. His men fell into step behind him, their scabbards empty because swords were forbidden in the hall. That fact hardly reduced them to being harmless. He chuckled softly and reached for his ale. He was proud to know his retainers hid dirks and other small weapons on their persons. They were Highlanders, which meant they were always ready to defend themselves and their clan. But he was an earl and knew well how to make sure his family fortune was maintained. He’d set his secretary to drafting a letter to Henry Tudor of England demanding a fair dowry for the York bastard. The new king might be irate over the demand, but he’d pay up or risk seeing Lytge wed the girl to one of Henry’s rivals instead of keeping her so far no
rth.
Aye, that would do the trick, all right. Henry would rather have the girl secure in the Highlands, making an ally of the Sutherlands rather than breeding up another generation of Yorks to hassle Henry in his old age. If her children were Highlanders, they’d spit on the throne of England.
The serving wench returned, this time offering him a view of her ample chest as she filled his goblet. She didn’t shy away from looking him in the eye while she served him and offered him a smile full of suggestion. Perhaps there were benefits to having a grown son to see to some of the important matters, after all.
“Come serve me in me study, lass…”
Her eyelids lowered, and her cheeks brightened. “As ye like, my laird.”
Oh, he liked. Lytge felt a surge of satisfaction moving through him that made him feel twenty years younger. He envied his son the conquest he was embarking on, but also grinned at the idea of his lad rising to the challenge. An English lass would no’ be simple to lure into bed, but Norris was a master of seduction. A skill he’d learned from his father, Lytge was proud to know. The serving lass appeared only moments after he sat down behind his desk. Her linen cap was missing, and her hair lay like shimmering moonlight across her shoulders. Beneath his kilt, his cock hardened.
Yes, everything was going to be perfect.
Including his afternoon.
***
“I will freeze in this dress.”
Kael Grant looked up but only grinned at his sister’s disgruntlement.
Nareen snarled softly, earning a chuckle from her brother. The silk dress rustled when she moved. The soft, delicate shoes looked like they belonged on the feet of a fairy, and she discovered herself longing for wings to help her avoid feeling the chill of the stone floors in the hallways.
“We’ve guests tonight, ones worthy of pomp and circumstance,” Kael reminded her.
Clarrisa used measured steps to move closer to him to reduce the amount of sound coming from her garments. She’d failed to understand just how much work it was to be a queen. Just walking across the court was an effort, and if you failed, the gossips would be sure to repeat your lack of grace.