by Vin Stephens
“You know him?”
“Non-threatening my arse.” Altair grunted. “The shrewd fucker monopolized Scotland’s wool trade. His character is gender dependent. A Scots mon will slit his throat almost as quick as a Scottish wench will toss up her skirts fer him.” Willow colored. He winced. “Tis isnae relevant. Go on.”
“By the time Stark came to investigate, Murdock had stormed out. I was on the bedroom floor. I implored him to stay silent. I didn’t want this poor man to get hurt.” Willow began to weep. “I don’t know how it happened. I’d never had a man tend to me with such gentleness. We—” She implored Altair with wide eyes to understand. “I’m sorry. Murdock was your brother. I cheated on him, just that once.”
Altair touched her lips. “Ye doonae have tae explain. Ye needed comfort and he was there. I cannae hold that against ye. Murdock didnae deserve ye fidelity. Had ye taken ten lovers I wouldnae judge ye.”
“Once was enough. Next morning this Stark was gone. He left a rose at my bedside. I didn’t discover I was pregnant until a month later. I was violently ill. Whatever the doctor prescribed didn’t help. Nonna finally helped. She made a homemade concoction. Said it had helped my mother. After the initial three months morning sickness I grew stronger. I had planned to name the baby Rose if a girl. Dear God. Rose. I don’t even know where my precious Rose is buried. If they even gave her that dignity.”
“Concentrate, Willow. What happened after ye found yerself pregnant?”
“Anthony and Murdock were becoming closer. I was relieved. Murdock spent less time at home. But he began to act strangely, as though he suspected. Anthony started staying over. One evening I began to have severe cramps. It was so odd. We had over twenty servants but I couldn’t find one. Murdock told me to rest. Said he’d call the doctor. He didn’t. Anthony came instead.”
“Ye was fine and suddenly got ill? Do ye recall what ye ate?”
“Meatballs, minus spaghetti. Odd cravings. After, I had my habitual cup of tea.”
“Who served?”
“I don’t know. The supper was on the table, teapot by the fireplace. I don’t remember anyone else besides Murdock being there. I thought it odd. We never shared meals. Dear God in heaven. Do you think he poisoned me? He got rid of all the staff. He kept me sedated for days after. Convinced me I’d miscarried. But”—she strained to piece the puzzle together—“he was a reckless man. These plans were so meticulous.”
Altair took a long time to process. “This Anthony Barceló ye speak of, was he the mon who came with ye father tae arrange ye betrothal?”
“I was twelve. He is my father’s advisor, so yes, Anthony would have been in the study with our fathers.”
“He must be a verra old mon.”
“No. Actually he’s of your breed. I gather you age well.”
He shook his head. “My father didnae. Neither has yours. Only a pure-blood would age so slowly. Our lineage is mixed with human blood. Anthony must be a verra powerful shifter. Tis nay a good thing.”
“Why?”
Altair lit a cigarette. He stood at the window as he continued, “Pure-bloods are proud. Take only a pure-blood female as a mate. Those are impossible to find. But they willnae settle for a human. The loneliness makes the mon go mad. The beast takes over.”
“So we’re dealing with a madman then? I suspected he was behind the anarchy threatening to overthrow my father but could never prove it. If he is as strong as you say he is, why hasn’t he just taking over my lands?”
“The mon is insane. He isnae after power. Tis sport he’s having with yer lives.”
“Scary.” She had to know. “Do you think he helped Murdock?”
“Tis wouldnae surprise me. May I ask Willow? Ye ken a shifter wouldnae accept another mon’s bairn, least of all Murdock. Why did ye still have her?”
Willow stiffened. “I’d never abort my child.”
“So ye thought tae have the bairn without thinking of its future. A crazed mon Murdock was but he wasnae stupid. The beast cannae be deceived.”
“I just wanted the child alright. What’s with the third degree?”
“Why? Now ye want a bairn from me? Ye lands are safe. Ye kin sleep easy.”
“For now. What of the future?”
“Doonae lie tae me.” Riled, his fangs lengthened visibly. “Ye rush this. Ye would have a bairn to win ye father’s approval.”
“Is that so bad?” What did he understand? He couldn’t know what it was like living your whole life being blamed for your mother’s death. She spat out angrily, “I agreed to share my body, not my life. So stop prying where you have no right.”
“I do as I please. Do ye still want that bairn?”
“We had a deal Laird. You gave your word.”
He silenced her by slashing his hand. “Ye would sacrifice yer life tae please a mon who never cared fer ye? Is that all that matters tae ye?”
“I. Want. A. Child,” She emphasized each word through gritted teeth. “You can stop spilling your semen everywhere else but where it belongs.”
Altair sighed. “Then I have a condition. We will marry first.”
“You pity me.” She shouted the accusation. Couldn’t he see that she loved him? God, how she wished he would ask the same question, only for a different reason.
“Nay. I shall mourn ye after ye die in childbirth. But ye willnae leave a bastard. And he shall nae carry the name of Murdock the monster. He’ll carry my name in truth.”
What a cruel, cruel man. “You offer marriage only because you know you will be a widower before the year is out.”
Altair shrugged. “Aye. I a widower and the bairn motherless. Tis ye choice.”
“I will not marry you, you rotten bastard.”
He blew out a long stream of smoke and studied her through it. “Aye ye will. Ye ken anyone else who will donate strong, healthy sperm at yer finger click. Nay. Doonae think of Garret and Jhor. A dead mon cannae give ye what ye want.” He strode to the door. “We’ll hand-fast. Tis less bother.”
“I’ll give you bother, you bastard. I hate you.”
“It makes nae a difference tae our hand-fasting nor the nights I’ll spend fucking ye. And lass, doonae think I’ll stop when ye’re ripe and swollen with mae bairn. I plan tae fuck ye until ye draw yer last breath.”
The pillow didn’t do it for her. She followed it up with the crash of the glass. How did she ever believe she loved him? Domineering, egotistical jackass.
Chapter 5
“How goes it with our guests of honor?” Altair checked the mirror. It was a time since he’d tied his long hair. He scowled at the tidbit of ribbon and tossed it aside. The leather strip was manlier.
“Tis wasnae without fanfare. They arrived on our shores as though hells’ hounds were on their heels. But doonae worry. Little Muldoon will make sure the road is impassable with his merry herd of sheep.”
“Twill be enough?”
“Old Murphy is there with his senile mind full of wrong directions if it isnae. They willnae leave the Shire until sunrise.”
“Weel done, Jhor. I willnae appreciate those guests arriving on time, even though they were invited. What of the ones I would welcome?”
“All but one showed up for the main event.” Jhor guessed Altair’s next question, “Tis six virile men, each with a bonny wife so we willnae tempt more then their eyes.”
Altair nodded in satisfaction. “What of ye, Garret? Is the venue set?”
“Pretty flowers, lively music and food aplenty.” At Altair’s growl, he laughed. “Ye doonae enquire about the ceremony? My mistake. All is set. If she isnae happy now, be sure by morn she willnae feel the same.” Garret preened at the mirror. “Ye’re inae fine fettle tae be done fer a mon who wouldnae hear the word marriage afore.”
“The wench is screaming fer a mon’s guidance. Tis wouldnae sit weel on mae conscious if I didnae take her in hand. Speaking of meddling wenches, what of Nonna?”
“She’s caught the eye of widow Fergus
. He’ll keep sweet Nonna weel entertained after the festivities.” Approval shone in Garret’s eyes but was quick to dampen. “Tis nary a good life Willow’s had, Altair. I would be gentle with her.”
“Think ye I havenae tried that? She ken I think every sorry excuse of a mon in her life wasnae worth her tears.”
“Aye and tis grand but have ye told her ye arenae nor will ye ever be one of those men? Have ye told ye care fer her?”
Altair blinked. “I admit tis exactly the words I sought from ye eloquent tongue but the dratted things evaded me. Nay matter. She willnae have doubt after this day.”
“Ye mean tonight.” Jhor grinned and rubbed his hands together. “I cannae wait. A week’s abstinence isnae good fer a mon. I’m fair close tae exploding and tis isnae a good thing when eyes will be gawking.”
“I’ve news. Raelyn Stark.”
“Oh?” Jhor and Garret perked up.
“Twould would seem the Donnellys’ arenae satisfied with the contract for exporting Scotland’s finest wool. A Gaidhlig has been arranged between Donnelly’s youngest and Stark.”
“Scarlet?” Garret hooted with laughter. “The poor mon willnae tame that wench.”
“Arranged tae marry they are. No marriage, no Donnelly consignment. No consignment—” He smiled slyly. “—and Stark Exports will be in the red.”
“But Altair, arenae ye fergetting something? No bride. Last I heard Scarlet stowed away on a ship headed for America because the captain caught her eye.”
“Tis a fine couple they’ll make, Garret. The cocky fucker won’t get away with taking advantage of Willow when she was vulnerable. Then he left her with bairn tae fend fer herself.”
“The wenches doonae peek beneath Stark’s shy, placid façade. He did ken Murdock had beaten Willow and he did nothing—at least nothing he isnae already famed fer doing. Tis a shame. Business and Willow aside, he’s almost a likable sort.” Garret studied Altair closely. “The bairn, Altair. I have concern.”
“I will find out what became of wee Rose.”
“Aye. May God rest her sweet soul. But tis isnae the one that concerns me.”
“The lass would make that bairn on her own if she could. If tis isnae of mae seed. She’ll hunt down another. Mark my words. Her father spent a lifetime digging his daughter’s grave.”
“But Altair—”
“Nay. The deed will be done. Willow will have all that she desires. She just doesnae ken it yet.”
“If ye say so I willnae dispute. Surely ye ken what ye do.”
“Aye. I ken verra weel. Now tell me, Garret. How does she seem to ye? I havenae set eyes in her this week past fer fear I wouldnae resist jumping her bones.”
Garret answered morosely, “Best ye keep any sharp tools hidden.”
Altair grinned. “Aye. The wench has claws. I prefer it over the tears. Tis all weel fer I have only a verra blunt tool fer her.”
* * * *
“Did he send you two here to guard that I’m safe or that I don’t run away?” Willow caught Garret’s red face and knew the answer.
“Ye look verra bonny, baby. Were there time I would have offered to calm yer jittery body.”
“You had all week.”
“Ye ken ye have Garret around yer wee fingers. Let him be. Sit. Tell me if ye wish tae go through with this wedding.”
“Would you gainsay Altair? I didn’t think so.” Nevertheless she sat. Garret was easier to talk to of the two, but easy wasn’t what she needed right now. She needed brutal honesty. “Jhor, will Altair change once we’re wed?”
“Ah lass. Ye heart has fear but tis isnae unexpected.” He circled her shoulders with a comforting arm. “Ye doonae need me tae answer. Ye ken the answer already.”
“Yes. I don’t believe Altair will hurt me but I need to be sure.”
“Can ye ever be, Red?”
Willow kissed his cheek, enjoying the flush spearing the cheeks of a hard, stern warrior. “Promise to watch over me. I mean, I know we will still be together.” Her smile included Garret. “But will you make sure nothing bad happens to me.”
“Tis yer husband’s right first.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “But both Garret and I arenae going anywhere. We’d lay our lives down fer ye.”
What more could she ask? It was a great deal more then she’d ever been offered in her life. Deep down in her heart she knew her fears were unwarranted. Altair had had ample opportunity to hurt her but never did. He was brash, arrogant and a complete dolt when it came to sensitivity but to raise his hand against her—well, in a non-sexual, non-arousing way—no. She could not picture it. “He was really angry that I insist on a child. I do really want it.”
“Mayhap if that were the only reason.”
“He doesn’t understand how much my father’s approval means to me.”
“Do ye blame Altair? Ye ask him tae hand ye the weapon tae kill yeself.” Jhor rose and helped her up. “Set everything aside, Red. Have faith in ye husband-tae-be.”
“He marries me for the sake of the child.”
“I would ask ye never to repeat what I tell ye.”
“Jhor—”
“Nay, Garret. She is tae be his wife and has the right tae ken. Altair’s father was a randy cur. He sowed his oaths with nary a thought fer the lass or bairns he left behind. But Altair’s mother was a feisty wench. She marched tae the old Laird’s door and demanded he take responsibility fer the bairn growing in her belly.”
“Are you saying that—?”
“Aye. Altair isnae legitimate. The Laird was a cruel mon. He didn’t take her in for the bairn. He lauded her pregnancy over his wife, who having birthed Murdock twelve years earlier couldnae bear him a spare. Even though the Laird housed them, he never granted Altair legitimacy.”
“But—”
“How did Altair gain the Cameron name? Tis isnae a surprise that Murdock held nae love fer this place. He was a lazy sod, needing a pampered life. In the end the Laird didnae have a choice. Tis was hand over the reins tae Altair who at least carried his blood or let the estate go tae one of Cameron’s distant cousins.”
“You?”
“Aye. Tis the better mon who leads our kin. I have nothing but love fer mae cousin. Ye say he doesnae ken the need for a father’s approval. But he ken it all tae weel. At least ye father didnae show his hatred with heavy fists and cutting words. And doonae forget the horror of being the younger tae Murdock the insane.”
“Why did Altair stay?”
“After his mother had sacrificed so much fer him tae earn his birthright? Nay. Altair may carry the beast of his father but his heart and courage is the mother.”
“What happened to her?”
“Strong she was but I fear nae her body. She didnae survive the birth. Do ye understand why Altair would nae leave a bairn a bastard?”
Her heart shattered. “Then truly this marriage is a farce. It’s only for the child.”
“Altair hasnae planted his seed in a wench nae matter how fair or bonny. He does it now fer ye ask it. I’ve known Altair all mae life, first as brother then my Laird. I’ve never doubted him, never had cause. He’s a leader, a strategist—a mon who plans even if we have nary a clue what he’s about. Trust him, wee Red. He willnae let ye down.”
Her mind was filled with conflict by the time she found herself at the entrance of the hall. The door remained closed. “My father didn’t make it?”
Jhor stuttered but Garret quickly interjected, “Nay. He’s been delayed.”
She caught the guarded look between the twins. Maybe they thought she’d break down with disappointment. But that paled in comparison to what plagued her.
Altair had his reasons for wanting his child to bear his name. What cruelty he must have suffered. How glorious this day might have been had he declared feelings for her—anything beyond lust? If she withdrew the demand for a child how would things change? They’d go back to salacious nights, without the tension, where he spilled his seed in her mouth, belly and chest
. She’d still be in the same position, usually on her back and no closer to the love she craved, neither from Altair, her father or her baby.
Her spine stiffened. Altair had promised a healthy son. Even if she did not live to see it, her father would finally deem her a fit offspring. Altair would make a wonderful father. That she was sure of. “Its good I have you two then. Shall we?” Her elbows stuck out as she clutched the bouquet of purple heath and white lilies to her clenched stomach.
The door opened and she walked out, a dandelion between two looming oaks. The courtyard was bathed in sunlight, nestled within sturdy walls that kept the wind and prying eyes at bay. Only a small crowd gathered, staff with beaming grins, select gentlemen Willow recognized as Lairds she owed great gratitude to, and Nonna. Her handkerchief dabbed so often it had to be drenched.
Willow recalled their conversation last night. “What do you mean, Nonna? I am marrying a man.”
“Just a man. Not a beast. Not a Lord. Why do you have to aim so high?” Her expression said “high” wasn’t at all what she’d been thinking. Willow hadn’t argued further. She attracted, and was likewise attracted to dangerous men with fangs.
A path opened. She saw him. Every last thought fled her mind. The polished buttons on his short charcoal coat winked at her above the plaid of black, white and gray. Where the matching kilt ended, delicious golden skin and muscled calves enticed. God, he was too virile, too bold—too much a man. Being surrounded by people didn’t stop her nipples from perking up in awareness, or the damp from moistening her underwear.
“Ye panties are wet. I smell the sweet scent of ye juices.”
Willow tripped. Jhor and Garret saved her from falling flat on her face. “Stop it, you insufferable dog.”
“Aye. Tis a wild beast ye’ll meet tonight and every night here after. Come. Tis time ye belonged tae me fully.”
The rest of the ceremony flew by in a blur. The leather binding her hands cut into her flesh with bitter-sweet pain. Altair wasted no time in lugging her around like a leashed pup, boastfully hugging his comrades. A second before jumping the besom he leaned down and whispered, “Ye will follow ye mon as ye have this day. Now leap with me, sweetling. We leave the past where it belongs and look to the future.”