The Highlander's Bride

by Amanda Forester

  Colette placed the whimpering baby on a flat rock, placing her hand over her chest, not wanting to let go. “Be well, my little one.” She pressed a kiss on the baby’s forehead, wondering if she would ever see the child again.

  Of course, Colette would never have been able to keep the child anyway, but she had not considered her feelings when it came time to say good-bye. It hurt, this pain of loss. She was already grieving the loss of Gavin, and now she realized there would be other losses. She was getting right tired of being in pain. She turned to the men and narrowed her eyes at them.

  “What do you want from me? And who are you to demand that I go anywhere?” Colette faced down the rough men.

  “Ye trespass on the land o’ the Baron o’ Kintail,” declared one of the men with long greasy hair. “We’ll take ye to him, and he’ll decide yer fate.”

  Colette held her head high and stared at the men with as much regal hauteur as she could muster. If these were the men her future husband chose to be his emissaries along the road, it did not bode well for the likelihood of a happy future together. Still, it was not her choice to make, and even if her future husband chose to employ ruffians, she would still be married to him.

  “I am on my way to visit the Baron of Kintail,” declared Colette. “You may have the honor of being my escort.”

  If Colette had hoped one of the men would offer his mount to her, she was sadly mistaken. So she marched down the road on foot, with five dubious guards surrounding her. It was hardly the way she had anticipated entering the keep as the mistress of the castle, but she had long learned to let go of expectations and allow life to roll along as it pleased. Despite being led to her future husband, one thought alone dominated her mind.

  Where was Sir Gavin?

  Thirty-four

  Gavin approached the castle, struck by the lack of activity outside. No crofters were attending their crops. No tradesmen were setting up shop. The little village outside the Eilean Donan Castle was strangely vacant. He wished there was someone he could ask what the signs meant. But there was no one about. He slowed the horse to walk and slowly ambled toward the gate, which was barred to him.

  He came to a stop before the gates and wondered what to do next. Had something happened to the Mackenzies? Was Marie Colette not to marry him after all? He tried to sweep away hope, but it stubbornly remained, clinging to any reason that would allow Colette to remain his.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a loud barking from the top of the wall. “Who goes there? State yer name and yer purpose at this here castle,” called a man with slightly slurred speech.

  Gavin stepped back to see the man more clearly. He had not been standing at his post when Gavin approached. It appeared he may have just woken to attend to his duty. Gavin was wary. Something was not right, but there was only one way to find out what was going on, and that was to talk to the laird himself.

  “I am Sir Gavin Patrick. I have traveled far to visit the Baron o’ Kintail. Please tell yer master I would speak to him.”

  “The Baron o’ Kintail, eh?” The man spoke in a sarcastic tone as if there was some joke about the request. “Och, we have the Baron o’ Kintail here. Come in, come in, and sup wi’ him.”

  Gavin dismounted and walked his horse into the castle as the gates were opened for him. Things were not in good repair. Debris littered the courtyard, along with several men who still appeared to be asleep. If the groggy stupor in which a few men staggered forward was any indication, their condition was enhanced by liberal doses of alcohol. They must have drunk heavily the night before.

  “Where is the Baron o’ Kintail?” asked Gavin suspiciously. His great sword on his back was within easy reach, but none of the men about him appeared to be in any condition to attack.

  “He is here. He is here in the great hall. But ye must wait here until my master is ready to receive ye.”

  Gavin waited outside the doors of the great hall. The Highlanders who were beginning to wake up in the courtyard were a surly lot. Never had he seen a more slovenly group. They staggered around and swore and went in search of more whiskey.

  Just when Gavin was beginning to consider leaving the castle altogether, the door swung open, and he was heralded inside. Within the walls were more men in various states of groggy stupor. He wondered at what must have transpired the night before. This was no place he would allow Marie Colette to enter, marriage contract or no.

  He scanned the room for the master of the castle, to hopefully get some answers, but no one was on the raised dais. In the corner of the room, a man was relieving himself on the rushes. “Are ye Sir Gavin Patrick?” the man asked midstream.

  Gavin was itching to grab his sword at the disrespect this man was showing him, but he stayed his hand and answered through gritted teeth. “Aye, and what manner o’ man are ye?”

  The man finished his business and strolled back into the middle of the hall stepping up on the raised dais and sitting in the master’s chair. He was a large man, even compared to Gavin, who was a tall man himself. The man before him was practically a giant. He stood at least a foot taller than any man around him. His square shoulders and muscular arms gave Gavin no doubt he was addressing a warlord. His legs were large and muscular, about the diameter of tree trunks. Most fearsome of all was his flaming red hair, which stuck out at all angles around his head, merging into his bushy red beard.

  “Do ye ken who I am?” The large man narrowed his eyes and gave him a wicked grin.

  Gavin had never met him, but he knew the man by reputation. “Ye’re Red Rex, the Scourge o’ the Highlands.”

  The man smiled, showing his blackened teeth. “Aye, ’tis so nice to be recognized for one’s work.”

  Gavin was relieved he had Colette and Pippa wait in safety. He wanted to return immediately, but he needed to know how this warlord knew his name. “And what has happened to the Baron o’ Kintail?”

  “I am the Baron o’ Kintail! Ye may address any business wi’ the Baron o’ Kintail to me.” Red Rex sat smugly on the raised chair.

  “And what o’ the man who formally held this title?” Gavin wanted information but glanced at the exit, preparing himself for a hasty departure when things went bad, as they undoubtedly would.

  “Now where did we put him?” Red Rex looked to the high ceiling as if deep in thought. “I do believe he is watching over our gardens. Or more accurately, buried in our gardens.” He gave Gavin another wide smile.

  Gavin refused to show any emotion. Red Rex had an infamous reputation. He was a warlord, strong and smart. He knew how to pick a vulnerable target and pillage it for everything he could. He was known for robbing and stealing and conquering weak lairds, taking over their castles until he tired of it and moved on. But the Baron of Kintail should not have been an easy target.

  “But how is it that ye have ascended to this lofty title?” asked Gavin.

  “The former Baron o’ Kintail made a poor bargain wi’ them French bastards. When he was parted from a large force o’ his warriors and then the castle was beset with sickness, I knew my time had come. And strike we did.”

  Gavin balled his fists at his side. So this snake waited for Mackenzie to send troops to help defend Colette’s people, only to be plundered himself, his castle taken, his life forfeit. Gavin realized he needed to be wary. Red Rex knew more about this business with Colette than Gavin wished.

  “And now, young Gavin, tell me what business ye have with my predecessor. What brings ye here today?”

  The slovenly men were beginning to wake, taking a keen interest in the conversation. Some even moved between him and the door, blocking his escape. Red Rex knew Gavin’s name, but how much more did he know? Gavin took a breath, knowing that whatever he said now would most likely make the difference as to whether he walked out alive or not. “I have recently returned from France, and I come to bring tidings of the war to the Baron o’ K
intail.”

  “Ye may give me yer report, soldier.” An odd smile played on the lips of Red Rex not unlike that of a cat toying with a caught mouse.

  “The English grow stronger and more bold. They have taken the port o’ Bordeaux.”

  “And how is it that ye have escaped to give this report?”

  Gavin was not sure how far this man’s sphere of influence went and how much he already knew. To be caught in a lie could be fatal—to provide more information than necessary equally so. He decided to keep as close to the truth as possible, with one major omission. “I sailed in a merchant vessel to Glenelg.”

  Red Rex leaned forward, his eyes glittering not unlike that of the snake about to strike. “I heard a vessel stopped there. And what o’ Lady Marie Colette, the one the Baron o’ Kintail was promised to wed?”

  Gavin’s heart sunk at the mention of her name. Red Rex must have come in possession of Laird Mackenzie’s papers, which told him of the arrangement. Gavin looked him straight in the eye. “’Tis the other unfortunate tiding I have to give. Lady Marie Colette was captured by the English along with all her dowry. I fear ’tis verra likely she has by now been forced to wed another.” It was Gavin’s intention to make Marie Colette appear as distant as possible. Now if he could only get out of the castle alive, they might have a chance.

  “How disappointing.” Red Rex gave no indication as to whether or not he believed Gavin’s story.

  Gavin tensed, ready to draw his sword if need be. He would fight his way free if it came to it, though he hoped to be allowed to walk out without the need for swordplay. He bowed to Red Rex. “That is all I have to report. Good day to ye.”

  Red Rex waved a hand at him like swatting away a fly. Gavin had been dismissed.

  He turned to go. He was almost free. He got no more than a few steps when a group of men walking in stopped him cold. A prisoner was led into the great hall, escorted on either side by gruff guards, even by Highlander standards.

  It was Marie Colette.

  * * *

  Colette knew as soon as she entered the great hall of the castle something was wrong. Gavin was standing near the entrance, and when he saw her, all the color drained from his face. She was in danger. They both were. Though how or from whom she did not know. Beyond Gavin sat a large man with shocking red hair sticking out at all angles. He had wild eyes and a self-satisfied smile. She sincerely hoped that this was not her husband to be.

  “Who is this ye bring before me?” demanded the man with the red hair.

  “We found her a few miles up the road. She be French,” said one of the ruffians who had marched her into the great hall.

  “Ah, what a beautiful creature ye are. Ye must be the lovely Lady Marie Colette. I’ve been waiting for ye to arrive,” said the man with red hair. He rose and strode to her.

  Gavin’s lips pressed into a thin line; every muscle in his body appeared to be tensed, ready to run or strike. “Nay,” said Gavin through gritted teeth. “As I said before, Lady Marie Colette was taken by the English in France.”

  “But ye must be mistaken,” said the imposingly large man, standing and walking toward her. Colette’s heart dropped lower with dread at every approaching step. “For the Baron o’ Kintail was promised in marriage the most beautiful woman who had ever lived in exchange for warriors. And this creature before me can be none other than Lady Marie Colette.” He gave her a slippery smile that left a bad taste in her mouth.

  Gavin flashed his eyes in warning, but there was no denying who she was. She would have to concoct a story in which she would be some other French lady wandering about who was not Lady Marie Colette. All of which stretched credibility beyond the breaking point. She feared telling a falsehood to this man, which could have unhappy consequences for either her or Gavin. Her main concern now was to prevent Gavin from being caught in a lie.

  “This man, he is correct. I was taken by the English, but when they were transporting me to one of their strongholds, my father’s soldiers attacked and they were able to free me. We found a sympathetic captain and sailed away even as my guards fought off the English soldiers.”

  “What a tale ye tell,” said the large man walking around her slowly, inspecting her person in a crude manner.

  Colette held her head high and would not allow him to make her cower. “And to whom am I addressing, sir?”

  “I am the Baron o’ Kintail.” He stood before her, his massive hands fisted at his waist.

  Colette gasped. Surely, this could not be the man her father intended her to marry.

  “He is Red Rex,” growled Gavin. “He defeated Laird Mackenzie and has taken his castle and his title.”

  Now Colette understood. This was not the man her father chose, but rather a usurper who’d taken the man’s title by force. “And the previous lord of this land?”

  “Dead.” Red Rex smiled as if the word was delicious on his lips. “And now, by a contract signed by yer father pledging ye in marriage to the Baron o’ Kintail, ye belong to me.”

  Thirty-five

  It was only through the practice of controlling her emotions over many years that Colette was able to prevent herself from screaming and trying to run from the hall. She felt an absolute obligation to the man her father chose, but to this warlord, she felt no allegiance whatsoever. She glanced at Gavin. If only she had taken his offer to run away when he had proposed it.

  Anger surged inside her, swallowing the fear. She had tried to do what was right, but it had ended in disaster. She was always pushing aside her own thoughts, feelings, and desires so she could serve the demands of others. And what had it gotten her? Now she was pledged in marriage to some heinous monster.

  “You wish to marry me?” she asked politely, as if questioning his preference in meals.

  “What I want is yer dowry.” All pretense of nicety drained from the face of Red Rex, vicious intensity blazing in his eyes.

  “If a weighty dowry is what you wish, then I advise you to choose another,” said Colette coolly. “I fear my dowry was captured and will never leave France now.”

  “Yer father will fix the trouble with yer dowry, have no fear.”

  “My father has nothing more to give.”

  “Ye best hope he can. He will be sent a missive, telling him that I am keeping ye comfortable…for a time.” His voice dropped and the humorless smile once again marred his countenance. “I’m sure, wi’ the right incentive, yer father will find a replacement dowry for ye.”

  Colette looked again at Gavin, but he refused to turn her way.

  “I plan to return to France soon,” said Gavin, stepping in between Red Rex and Colette as though the proceedings between them were of little consequence to him. “I would be willing to transport a missive from ye to the duc de Bergerac.”

  Colette’s heart stopped. Would he abandon her to this warlord?

  Red Rex turned his attention to Gavin, as if he’d forgotten he was still in the room. “Aye, tell the duke I will feed his daughter for six months, waiting for the dowry promised in the marriage contract. If it doesna arrive in that time, I will consider the marriage forfeit and give her to my men to do with as they may.”

  Colette balled her fists at her sides. Evil man.

  “Aye, my lord,” said Gavin, though Colette wondered how he could speak with his jaw so tight.

  Red Rex turned and walked back toward the raised dais, calling for a scribe to write a letter to the duc de Bergerac. Gavin waited only for his back to turn before he drew his sword. He swung it around menacingly, causing the ruffians around them to stumble back. Gavin grabbed her hand and they bolted for the door.

  “Get them!” raged Red Rex.

  Colette hiked up her skirts and ran with all her might, half drug by Gavin as he sprinted ahead of her. Shouts sprang up around them and the courtyard that had seemed almost abandoned when she’d entered no
w sprung to life with grim-faced knaves popping up from every direction. Gavin launched himself onto his horse, gaining his seat in one leap. He reached down and clasped her wrist to pull her up behind him.

  Colette jumped toward Gavin, but someone wrapped their hands around her waist and pulled her back, jerking her hand from Gavin’s. Colette screamed in surprise and Gavin spun, sword in hand, and with one mighty thrust, dispatched the man who had grabbed her.

  Colette reached again for Gavin, even as he leaned down toward her. Something sliced through the air just inches beyond her own nose and she realized the ruffians were shooting at them from the ramparts above.

  “Hurry!” Gavin reached for her hand, but she was once again brought down from behind. This time she was thrown to the sand of the courtyard and held down by a burly man with a knife pointed menacingly at her neck. Arrows continued to rain down as Gavin spun his horse toward her. One arrow glanced off his harness and another stuck into the saddle. They were going to kill him.

  “Go!” she screamed at him. “Leave me and get help.”

  “Never!” He charged the men who stood before her but was intercepted by Red Rex, who rushed into the fray, brandishing his sword. Gavin engaged, clashing steel on steel. The only reprieve was from the bowmen who stopped shooting so as not to hit their master. More rough men poured out of the main keep. Gavin was a skilled warrior, but he could not last long against such an onslaught.

  “Go now! I command you to go or all will be lost!” Colette screamed at him, hoping he would heed her words. It was her fault he was here. He needed to escape and she needed to know he would be safe.

  He met her eyes for only the briefest moment, but the anguish in his face was clear and palpable. He swung once more at the mighty Red Rex. “Ye winna hurt her. Ye winna harm her in any manner.”