Or at least that’s what she thought.
After the things they’d discussed and the way he’d made her feel, Mildred could concede to the concept that they’d possibly known each other much longer, even if only in dreams. He’d felt so incredible right and looked so amazingly handsome.
And she was human.
Rubbing her forehead, Mildred remembered how loosely she’d behaved with him in the water, nevermind on the shore. She should be ashamed of herself. But she wasn’t. And that couldn’t be good…or moral.
When she sat up slowly, Mildred realized she felt quite well. She thought for sure the room would spin or at the very least she’d find a few toes missing. But all was intact and despite the room being chilly, her body seemed in pretty great shape. Had Adlin or Iosbail used magic on her? They must have.
Careful, she swung her legs over the side of the cot and stood. Though the floor was icy cold, her legs worked well and she made her way to the clothes that’d been left on a chair in the corner of the room. After she slid into the chemise, dress and strange shoes, she grabbed the odd comb left for her and did the best she could to brush out her hair. With no mirror, she had no way of knowing how she looked. Not so great, she imagined.
When she stuck her head out the door, Mildred yelped in surprise.
Of all people, Laird Bruce leaned against the hallway wall.
Before she had a chance to say a word, he grabbed her arm. Petrified, she stumbled after him down the hallway then up a small set of stairs to a much larger chamber than the one in which she’d awoken. Though she tried not to, Mildred shook slightly as he somewhat forced her to sit in a chair.
He said nothing for several minutes as he paced in front of the fire, his eyes cutting her way. Eventually, he stopped, arms across his broad chest, and asked, “Where were you last eve?”
Mildred crossed her arms over her chest, not so much in defiance but to keep from shaking. Please don’t let my voice waver. “Here.”
“No,” he barked. “You were not.”
“Yes, I was… I mean, aye.”
Oh, Mildred, pull yourself together!
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “You lie.”
“Nay.”
“Why do you lie?”
“I don’t lie.”
Bruce stalked her way, his hands falling on the arm rests at her side, his face dangerously close. “I want to know about your relationship to Adlin.”
Not Iosbail, but Adlin?
“I barely know him.”
She’d never told the truth so well.
His face was within inches of hers now. “Then why were you seen with him last eve?”
Mildred released a small, careful breath and gave a safe answer. “Because we were at the same wedding.”
Bruce’s gaze intensified. “Aye. During and after.”
“I have no idea what you mean. I went to sleep after the wedding.”
His eyes stayed locked on hers for an uncomfortably long amount of time. By the grace of God, she didn’t flicker a lash, but held his gaze. At last, his eyes slowly left hers and traveled down her body. Mildred remained perfectly still, much like she imagined she would if faced with a grizzly bear. No sudden movements.
When Bruce finally pulled back, Mildred felt as if she’d passed a very important test. What exactly that was, she had no idea. At the very least, it seemed he’d been bluffing about them being seen together.
“You’re a bonnie, lass,” Bruce muttered as he paced toward the fire. “Adlin’s always had a good eye for the lassies.”
Even though his back remained turned, she gave no visible response to the declaration, mostly because she truly believed this man had eyes in the back of his head. As if he sensed her deceit, he turned sharply and again crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve a wee bit o’ magic in you too, lass. He’d like that.”
Mildred nodded. “So my mum has said. As to Adlin, I don’t think I’m much his type.”
Bruce chuckled. “Nay? Why is that?”
She shook her head and fingered her hair. “Too dark.”
“Your hair?”
“Aye. Not fair at all.”
Bruce seemed perplexed. “How would you know?”
Mildred did her best to look a bit deflated. “I asked his sister.”
“Ah, so you admit you find him a sight.”
Time to be realistic. Without missing a beat she replied, “What lass would not?”
Though his expression turned sour, Bruce seemed far less angry. Instead, his eyes took on a new edge, one that seemed to blend lust with cunning. It gave her not only the chills but a new level of fear.
“Come,” Bruce said and headed for the door.
Mildred figured it was a good sign he decided to no longer drag her so she followed. The great hall below was busy most likely because of the weather. They made their way to a table set on a slightly raised dais. It wasn’t anything like the set-up at the MacLomain’s castle. All the tables there had been on equal ground. She supposed that said something about the two lairds.
Iosbail sat next to her new husband. Beside them several of the men she’d seen with Bruce yesterday. Mildred scanned the crowd as she sat beside Bruce. Why was she sitting next to the laird anyways? She didn’t really want to know.
The MacLomain Clan filled a long trestle table not too far from where they sat. It didn’t take her long to locate Adlin, who didn’t look her way. She didn’t blame him.
Bruce signaled to the servants and food was placed before them. Mildred stared dubiously at her plate. What was this?
“Eat,” the MacLeod laird grunted.
Really?
But she did. No real choice. The slimy food tasted awful as it slid down her throat. Instead of talking to his men, Bruce said, “Iosbail told me who you are.”
Mildred froze with a spoonful of food halfway to her lips and looked at him. “Oh really?”
What else could she say?
His ‘too clever’ eyes had been watching her closely. Whatever he’d seen didn’t seem to turn his expression all that more sour.
“Aye.” Bruce drank deeply from his goblet then said, “You’re the daughter of a laird, lowland laird, but a laird all the same.”
Oh no. Iosbail went too far. Mildred forced the spoon to her mouth and chewed her food in what she hoped was a thoughtful manner. After swallowing the nasty bit, she gave a small smile and said, “Aye, I am.”
Bruce sat back and continued to eye her. “Are the MacLomains so high and mighty that one of their women would truly have a laird’s daughter as their second?”
Mildred took a sip from her goblet, doing her best not to choke as the burning liquid slid down her throat. With a calmer voice than she anticipated, she responded, “The Brouns are, after all, only a lowland clan.”
Bruce arched a brow in immediate resignation and shook his head. “Aye, true.”
What a flop! But she managed to keep that emotion tucked way deep down inside.
The MacLeod laird contemplated her for several long seconds before he nodded his head and stood. “Hear me, clan! I’ve something to say!”
Hundreds turned silent in an instant.
Though she tried not to, her eyes slid to Adlin. His eyes were locked firmly on Bruce, a grim expression marring his handsome features. It was almost as if he already knew what the laird would say.
A sharp chill ran down Mildred’s spine.
Bruce continued in a loud, crowd-consuming voice. “’Tis been far too long that the MacLeod’s chieftain has been without a bride. No more. Today I announce my betrothal to Mildred of the Broun clan.”
Hand on her suddenly queasy stomach, Mildred closed her eyes. Please let this be part of some wicked nightmare. When the crowd roared with approval she opened her eyes. This was no nightmare. Her eyes found Adlin. His smile was clearly forced, his frosty eyes still on Bruce. When she looked up at Bruce it was to find his eyes not on his clan but on Adlin.
It was then that Mildr
ed realized how much danger she was in. Whether or not Bruce had believed anything she said—which she doubted—he had her now. There existed little doubt in her mind that she had any choice. After all, she hadn’t even been asked.
Frustrated, she looked Iosbail’s way only to find the woman smiling at the crowd. How dare she ignore her? She’d all but landed her here!
“What do you do, lass?” Bruce suddenly asked.
“What?” Mildred asked, thrown off by his sudden attention.
“With your finger?”
Mildred immediately pulled her hand from her mouth. She’d been biting her nail. Who could blame her.
“My laird, if I may?”
Their attention swung to Iosbail’s soft but far-reaching voice as she stood.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed but he nodded his head once.
Iosbail said, “I’d like to invite you and Mildred to be married at my husband’s, your brother’s, holding. I request the honor of the bride to travel with me.”
The hall went silent. Mildred swore she saw a dark cloud form over Bruce’s head. Her eye’s skirted briefly to Adlin only to find his eyes glued to Bruce. Meanwhile, the MacLeod’s eyes were skimming the hall, clearly gaging his clan’s response.
What was she missing?
When at last Bruce’s eyes met Iosbail’s, he offered a reluctant grunt of approval. His clan exploded with excitement. In response, the laird drained his goblet and nodded to a servant to refill. With what was obviously a frustrated movement, he sat and leaned back.
Mildred took a small sip from her drink and focused on her food. Whatever the dynamics between Bruce, Adlin and Iosbail, she knew better than to get involved. At least for now. Quite frankly, the foreign land, time and people were becoming less and less an oddity when compared with these three.
Yet she knew they all were closely tied with her destiny.
Because one way or another, her destiny was here and now.
Soon enough the food was cleared and the dancing began. Though she prayed that meant she could leave, it proved to be the furthest thing from Bruce’s mind. As the pipes trilled throughout the tall, expansive recesses of the MacLeod clan’s great hall, their laird drank down two more goblets of ale and watched the crowd with a hauntingly impassive eye.
As he did so, Mildred felt more and more like she’d been ensnared in a web far beyond her comprehension. Iosbail and Adlin were now dancing amongst a merry crowd while she sat almost afraid to breath beside a man who seemed to be patiently planning his next move.
“Let us dance then,” he finally declared.
Mildred didn’t doubt for a second that he’d just ordered her to dance with him. Thrilled, the pipes seemed to pick up as they joined the crowd. She felt like she’d been thrown to the wolves even if Bruce had so recently declared her his.
Clearly, this pack of wolves shared.
Before she knew it, Mildred found herself not in the arms of Bruce but his many clansmen. The feeling was not one of pleasure but discomfort. It was as if he declared to his clan that she was all of theirs, not just his. Despite her lack of gusto, she was tossed from MacLeod to MacLeod. Never did she find herself in the arms of a MacLomain.
Until she did.
Adlin.
Yet looking up into his face proved disappointing. It was if the time they’d spent together the previous night hadn’t happened. It was as if they’d never met at all. His body language was distant, his face made of granite. Strangely enough, the lack of exchange was ten times harder than dealing with anything the MacLeod laird dished out. It only then occurred to her that everything Bruce had done or would do in the future, would always be tolerable if she knew Adlin’s eyes would look at her the way she knew they could… did.
Perhaps he couldn’t right now.
Either way, she wanted no part of this ‘Adlin’.
Pulling away, she turned to the next man, not giving the MacLomain laird a second glance. Who cared if she acted childish? In this crowd, she was only proving her devotion to her forced-upon betrothed, right?
Mildred might be able to fool the crowd but she wasn’t fooling herself. The minute she left Adlin’s arms a new coldness settled over her. He’d truly touched her.
His actions. His face. His words.
“’Tis time to rest, my lady.”
When a servant took her hand and led Mildred back to her small chamber, she didn’t look back. Even if she did look back seeking to see a flicker of regret in Adlin’s eyes, his baser indifference for the better of his current cause would always be there. For goodness sake, he was a five hundred year old Scottish wizard.
The fact that he was a good looking man she was madly attracted to meant very little and Mildred understood that. Sort of. She just wished her heart was nearly as logical as her mind.
But it wasn’t.
Because as she stood in the courtyard the next morning, the mere sight of Adlin made her heart leap in her chest. Apparently, as declared the night before, she would be traveling with Iosbail, her husband and his sept of the clan to their holding. It remained unclear why she’d be leaving with them and not Bruce but truth told, she wasn’t complaining.
Iosbail, true to nature, had been vague.
Mildred couldn’t help but wonder as the horses began to file out, would she be whisked home soon? Surprised, she found her throat clogged at the thought. Yes, all of this was petrifying but she truly didn’t want to go back yet. In fact, the desire to return home hadn’t even occurred to her as she lay alone in a strange land last night. Not at all. Only thoughts of Adlin existed. Her anger at him kept her fear at bay. Her need to understand more about him only increased. Her desire to touch him once more put fire in her heart.
No, she wasn’t ready to go home yet.
Now, in the bright light of day, there was a certain safety knowing she was going with Iosbail, regardless how impertinent the woman seemed.
She was Adlin’s sister.
Mildred pulled the MacLomain tartan tighter around her shoulders and tried to enjoy the feeling of being on a horse. It was a simple comfort that reminded her of home.
All remained silent as the horses trotted north. Unlike the day before, the weather was clear and bitterly cold. The tartan wasn’t nearly warm enough. About ten minutes later a clansman came alongside and handed over a heavy fur cloak. Grateful, Mildred wrapped it over her shoulders. Either they were going to a more desolate corner of Scotland or the season was changing.
They traveled nearly the whole day before another holding appeared on the horizon. Unlike Bruce’s it didn’t sit on the sea but a fraction of a mile inland. Pine trees were thick and protective here, long grass filled small fields in between. So it was clearly not winter though the air felt as much.
This holding had no drawbridge or moat, no wall walks. It was but a decent size, square building. Mildred thought it looked incredibly welcoming compared to Bruce’s castle. A few women and children appeared as they approached, welcoming the clansmen. Besides that, all seemed rather quiet and peaceful.
No wonder Bruce didn’t want her here before him.
It might just give her the wrong idea about the Highlands.
The sun was setting as they dismounted in the small courtyard.
Iosbail’s husband seemed an entirely different man now. His cold indifference had all but vanished as he came over and held up his hand. Unsure but left with no other choice, she took it and came down off her horse.
“My name is Logan, welcome to my home.”
Mildred nodded. “Thank you.”
When he turned away and walked with his men into the keep, she didn’t stop him to ask him why he seemed so kind now. No, she looked right at Iosbail. And Iosbail looked right back.
Suddenly furious, Mildred yet again asked of her, “What’s going on?”
Nobody seemed particularly phased by a strange woman yelling in their courtyard. Was this an everyday occurrence for them? Tired, hungry, Mildred found it all infuriating.
<
br /> “Let me explain, Mildred.”
Stunned, she spun.
Adlin?
It couldn’t be. But there he was on horseback, framed by the setting sun, a fur cloak wrapped over his strong shoulders. Before she could release a healthy stream of words, he got off his horse and strode her way. Though she shook her head avidly she allowed him to pull her into his arms, allowed him to shelter her trembling body.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “So sorry.”
“You should be,” she muttered but didn’t pull away. He felt too good.
“We must go in and eat, brother,” Iosbail said softly.
Adlin pulled back slightly and cupped her face in his warm hands. “This is a place of shelter for us but one that will only last for a day. Then Bruce will be here.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to transport her home but it suddenly felt like if she said it then it might happen. Looking up into his intense eyes Mildred knew the very last thing she wanted to do right now was go home. She needed a few more hours at least… with him.
“All right,” she whispered.
When was it that she’d gone from being petrified of being in medieval Scotland to wanting…no, needing, to stay here?
“Come with me, lass.”
Adlin took her hand and led her into the keep. A reflection of the outside, the inside was square, very tall and toasty warm. Thin steps led up to several levels but as a whole it was a very open concept with a fire in the center. Bread and sweets baked, meat roasted, filling the air with a rich, heady aroma. A single pipe trilled from somewhere unseen.
Tables were placed randomly with large torches stemming out from the walls. Well-armed clansmen hung their weapons on wall hooks to sit with family. Women and elderly smiled. Children played happily.
She’d never felt so comfortable.
And safe.
Wind whistled through thin arrow slits stemming up the whole of the structure but instead of seeming cold and lonely, the eerie sounds somehow only added to the coziness of everything.
“It’s amazing,” she whispered.
“Aye,” Adlin responded and pulled her further in. “It’s the highlands, lass. The real highlands.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “This holding is at the truest peak of Scotland. The northern most point. ‘Tis special.”
Highland Defiance (The MacLomain Series- Early Years) Page 9