How to Handle a Highlander

by Mary Wine

  There were three main towers with thick curtain walls connecting them. Several cannon were set into the walls, and as they rode closer, the sound of construction drifted on the evening breeze. A bell began ringing up in one of the lookout towers. Soon more joined until all the bells were ringing. Men leaned out of the archer holes along the top of the wall to see who was approaching. There was a groan as the two men posted above the heavy iron gate unlocked it in case they were given the order to lower it.

  Bari never slowed. He continued on and rode through the open gate without any resistance. By the time they made it to the inner yard, many of the Mathesons had come out to watch the visitors arriving. The women hung back but watched Moira intently. The Matheson retainers nodded, obviously expecting them.

  “Where is she?”

  Achaius Matheson still possessed a booming voice. She heard him before the laird made it out of the main keep. His men parted as he made his way to the top step. His hair was gray—at least what there was of it. Deep wrinkles covered his face, and a stringy beard covered his chin and neck.

  “Where is me bride?” he demanded. “Get the lass closer, so I can see her.”

  The Matheson retainers moved instantly. Moira’s mare sidestepped nervously as they closed in. For a moment, every muscle in her body tightened. Panic gripped her, and Athena flapped her wings as she felt the unease of her handler. The hawk’s hard feathers cut at her face. Moira regained her composure as she soothed the bird. She let the bird climb off the saddle perch and onto her arm. Athena let out a shrill cry before settling down again.

  “So ye have a way with hawks?” Achaius said, his voice cracking a little.

  “Me sister is an expert in raising and training hawks,” Bari said.

  Moira ignored the hands offered to her and dismounted. Her skirts fluttered into place, and her feet ached as they took her weight for the first time in hours. Her hips were stiff and her mouth dry as bone because Bari had pushed them hard to make the distance before nightfall.

  “I’ve lads aplenty to see to hawks. I crave a wife who knows how to soothe a man when his blood is up. Now get the lass up here where I can see her.”

  Her belly twisted with nervous fear, but there was no refusing. Her only choice was to walk up the steps or be pushed up them by the Matheson retainers. She ordered herself to do it. Alba was relying on her. A retainer moved closer to her, tugging on his cap before offering his arm for Athena. At least it gave her a moment to compose herself as she handed the raptor off.

  Achaius waited for her with a grin that displayed his rotten teeth. At least her feet stopped hurting by the time she made it to the top of the steps.

  “Closer, lass.”

  She held her chin steady and moved closer. He chuckled softly, then boldly reached out to cup her breast.

  “What are ye doing?” The words were out of her mouth before she could think about it. She jumped back and collided with one of the Matheson men. The man hooked her under her arms and set her back in front of his laird like a supper plate. Shock filled her as Achaius reached for her breast once more. She was trapped, but what bothered her most was the sting of tears in her eyes.

  She would not cry. No, she would not.

  “Nice and plump…” Achaius cooed. “Turn around.”

  The retainer behind her didn’t wait to see if she’d comply. He hooked her bicep and spun her around for his laird’s pleasure. Try as she might, her eyes still widened when Achaius boldly patted her bottom in full view of all. The Matheson retainer in front of her stared right past her, his face set in a bored expression.

  Obviously she was not the first bride to be welcomed in such a manner.

  A strong voice rang out from below. “Laird Matheson, are ye greeting a bride or inspecting a mare?”

  Whoever the newcomer was, the Matheson retainers responded to him. The ones crowding her close to Achaius moved away, suddenly torn between their laird’s wishes and whoever had spoken.

  Achaius snorted. “A wife is meant to be ridden, is she nae?” He turned and stumbled. His men were quick to right their laird, proving they were accustomed to his lack of balance. “Mind yer tongue, Gahan Sutherland. Being Sutherland’s son means ye have the right to witness me wedding, but ye’re still bastard-born and have no say over how I welcome me bride. I like to know what I’m getting before I let them inside to sup at me table.”

  “What in hell is he doing here?” Bari demanded.

  Achaius let out a growl. “Ye’ll mind yer place as well, Bari Fraser. This is Matheson land—my land—and whoever is on it is here by my say so.”

  Achaius grumbled as he stumbled back through the open doors. His men followed, granting Moira some relief. It was short-lived though, as Gahan stepped toward Bari. Her brother wasn’t small, but Gahan was a huge man. He had devil-dark hair and wide shoulders packed with hard muscle. The man didn’t seem to feel the chill in the air; his shirt sleeves were rolled up and tied at the shoulders, the muscles along his arms clearly on display.

  She was no stranger to listening to Bari proclaim his position, but this man radiated authority. It surrounded him so thickly she would have sworn she could taste it. Gahan glanced at her, and for a moment she was transfixed. It was the briefest moment, yet she felt as if the man looked straight into her soul. Sensation rippled along her skin in response.

  “Ye seem to have forgotten to tell me father that ye had contracted yer sister to Matheson.” Gahan’s voice was smooth and even, but there was a core of solid steel in it too.

  “After ye allowed Sandra to die on yer land?”

  Gahan crossed his arms over his chest. “That bitch poisoned me father. Either confess ye knew her plan or condemn her as a murderess.”

  “I will nae—” Bari shut his mouth so hard his teeth clicked.

  “Will nae what?” Gahan pressed. He took another step toward Bari.

  “Discuss it with ye.”

  Gahan and the other Sutherland retainers were not satisfied with his answer. They pressed forward. Bari suddenly reached for Moira, his fingers biting into her bicep as he dragged her up beside him.

  “Moira is me half sister, and her mother was common-born. Something ye should know a bit about, bastard.”

  “I know a thing or two about it,” Gahan agreed as he reached out and captured her other bicep. Unlike her brother’s grip, his didn’t hurt, but it was firm and unbreakable. “And I know what a man looks like when he’s hiding behind a woman.”

  Gahan set her behind him in a swift motion. In the same instant, his other hand captured Bari’s wrist and twisted it upward. Moira stumbled into Gahan’s men, who parted to allow her through, then closed ranks behind their laird once again. She ended up in the doorway of the keep.

  “Nae that I should be surprised. Ye let Sandra stand in front of ye as well.”

  Bari shouted, “I’m escorting Moira to her groom. It’s a good match, better than her common birth deserves.”

  “And why are ye in a hurry to celebrate this wedding?”

  “It’s spring,” Bari said. “If Matheson made ye welcome, it’s his business. But me sister is going to wed him.”

  Bari stormed through the Sutherland retainers and renewed his grip on her arm. As he pulled her into the keep, she looked back. She really shouldn’t have but couldn’t seem to control her impulses. Gahan Sutherland was watching her, his black eyes glittering. She stared at him, astounded that she hadn’t heard even a hint of rage in his voice. His strength was more than flesh; it was there inside him too. The man didn’t need to raise his voice to make sure everyone knew how immovable his opinion was. There was an intensity that radiated off him. Even separated by several feet, she felt it. A curious sensation raced through her, leaving her breathless. When she looked forward again, her cheeks were warm with a blush—which was very bad. Because if there was one thing she didn’t need, it was to be blushing over Gahan Sutherland.

  She was set to wed another man.

  ***

>   “Ye handled that well,” Cam muttered with a good dose of sarcasm.

  “I did nae kill him,” Gahan replied. “All in all, I agree with ye.”

  Cam gave him a raised eyebrow in response but Gahan wasn’t in the mood to banter with his sibling. “He’s up to no good.”

  “Aye,” Cam agreed. “Yer suspicions are proving true. The cook is busy preparing a feast for tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Aye,” Cam confirmed. “Bari is a hard man to be sending his sister to such an old man’s bed.”

  “She might be in agreement. Sandra was nae innocent of scheming. As a common-born daughter, she would do well wedding herself to a laird.”

  But there had still been something about her that seemed out of place, if indeed she was in agreement with her brother’s schemes. There had been no bright smile on her face, only a solid look of determination.

  Gahan shook off his suspicions. The lass was set to do what her brother wanted, no matter her horror over the groom. He needed to listen to his gut instinct. Moira was kin to Sandra; that made her a master of deceit. She was using Achaius as much as the old man was planning on using her young flesh. It shouldn’t sicken him. At least not beyond the pure callous nature of it.

  But it did.

  ***

  “I do nae like him here,” Bari complained.

  “Well, there is naught ye can do. The man is me overlord. Yers too,” Achaius groused. “I do nae know how he learned of the wedding, but it does nae matter. I cannae tell him to leave unless ye want him to know we plan to unite our clans against his father. He has the right, as me overlord’s son, to witness the wedding. The union will be stronger for it too.”

  “Then let’s get the vows spoken.”

  Achaius shook his head. “Nae until I have the dowry.”

  “I brought it,” Bari snapped.

  “Me secretary is still drawing up the contracts. Until ye sign them, the dowry is nae complete because of the land ye promised. Ye cannae claim to have that in yer hand.”

  Bari slammed his mug down on the table. The door opened as one of the Matheson retainers looked into his laird’s private chamber to investigate the sound. Achaius gave the man a wave of his old hand, and the door shut again.

  “Do nae make the mistake of thinking me a fool, lad.” Achaius was stopped by a coughing fit. It racked his body for several long moments before he cleared his throat. “Every bride I’ve wed increased the Matheson land. Yer sister will be no exception. Land is better than gold, because when ye have land, it can be farmed and the crops sold. Land is a man’s true wealth. I’ll see the papers signed and witnessed before there is any visit to the church.”

  “If that was yer feeling, ye had some nerve handling her so publicly.”

  “I’ve got nerve aplenty, lad, which is why ye’re sitting here. For all yer words of how worthless yer sister is, she’s something I want, and ye know it.”

  “Half sister,” Bari corrected. “Her mother was me father’s second wife. A common-born woman.”

  “Ah, yes. Ye see? Yer father knew the value of wedding, and I bet his second wife brought gold or silver with her since she did nae have a claim to a fine family.” Achaius took a swig from his mug and smiled as he swallowed. “Now Sandra was a fine bit of woman. I’d have enjoyed spreading her out in me bed.” He reached down and rubbed his crotch. “I’m hard just thinking about it.”

  Bari snarled, and Achaius chuckled.

  “Was she meant for better men than me?” He leaned forward. “Do ye think I do nae know ye would never have offered her to me?”

  “Sandra was a rare beauty.”

  “And a conniving bitch.” Achaius pounded a fist on the table. “Better ye understand, lad, I’ll be the master here.”

  Bari set his mug down. “Maybe I should take me offer and go, because ye promised ye’d ride out against the Sutherlands with me in exchange for me sister. It seems all ye are interested in at the moment is fucking and collecting land from me.”

  “Until I have the contracts signed and sealed, that is all I’m interested in. I agreed to the match and yer terms of riding against the Sutherlands in exchange for the land ye agreed to settle on Moira. Money a man can make, but land, well, that is something they do nae make any more of. That’s what set yer sister above the other lasses I might have chosen. Ye are nae the only man who knows me retainers are the best and plentiful.”

  “Then we’re still agreed. Let’s get the vows spoken,” Bari pressed.

  Laird Matheson held up his hand as Bari stood up. “Tomorrow will be soon enough. Yer sister will have less fight in her after a sleepless night.”

  “She’ll do her duty,” Bari promised.

  “She nearly retched upon me boots when she got a good look at me, lad!” He laughed good and long but dissolved into a coughing fit. “Nae that I care. She’ll settle in, and it will be me pleasure to break her to ride. But ye’ll mind me, lad, on the matter of Gahan Sutherland. There will be no poisoning beneath me roof. I’ve enough trouble with the king.”

  “Does it matter how he dies?”

  “Aye, lad, it does. I’m a Highlander, even if age has had her way with me. The Matheson will ride out with ye because it will increase our lands. Until then, me overlord’s son is welcome here.”

  “His bastard, ye mean,” Bari grumbled.

  “But one the earl acknowledges. That makes all the difference, and ye know it,” Achaius insisted. “When ye add in the fact that the earl has only the one legitimate son, well now, his bastard becomes even more important. Especially when there seem to be no others. I hear Norris has no children either. The Sutherland blood is getting thin, it seems. He would nae be the first bastard getting a title in the Highlands. Besides, it will be good to have the union witnessed. The earl will nae argue if his own son was here and did nae stop it from happening.”

  Bari nodded. “True. Since ye are planning to keep me here, I hope yer maids are friendly.”

  Achaius waved him toward the door and reached for his mug again. He really was ancient-looking, but Bari didn’t bother concerning himself with that. He was laird of the Matheson, and that was what interested him. Sisters were meant to be used to further the clan’s interest.

  Even Sandra had known that.

  ***

  No one seemed to want to deal with her. Moira reluctantly watched the man holding Athena take the bird off to the yard. She had to curtail the impulse to keep the hawk with her. Just because she longed for companionship didn’t mean she had the right to deprive Athena of supper.

  But no one else came near her. Moira stood in the hallway. Through an arched doorway she could see the Great Hall filled with tables and benches. Women were busy setting out baskets of bread for the evening meal. They stole peeks at her, but no one invited her in. Since she was to wed the laird, she really didn’t need an invitation, but it felt wrong to enter where she had not been bidden.

  She sighed and chastised herself. Her current lack of courage wouldn’t do. Respect was earned. At least true respect was, and she wasn’t interested in the false sort that she’d witnessed Sandra getting.

  Moira shifted away from the great hall, walking slowly down the hallway to get a look at her new home. To begin with, she’d get a sense of where things were. The light was dim now and the shadows growing deeper. The lamps in the passageways were not yet lit, but the window shutters were still open to let the fresh air in.

  “Inspecting yer new possession?”

  She recognized Gahan’s voice instantly. It was slightly unnerving how swiftly she identified him.

  “Yer sister would have found it beneath her,” he added.

  Gahan parted from the shadow of a doorway. The hall was farther behind her than she’d realized; the setting of the supper table was now only a dim buzz. A strange twist of excitement went through her belly, startling her. But it also left a bitter taste in her mouth, because she realized she preferred Gahan to her groom.

  I
t was knowledge she could have done well without.

  “Nae that I’d expect any less of any woman wedding such an old man,” Gahan informed her.

  His tone was condescending at best, and it irritated her. He was her better. The fine weave of his kilt and the silver buttons running up the sides of his knee-high boots showed off just how much his father gave him. She should have kept her mouth shut, but her pride flared up and she propped her hand onto her hip.

  “And will yer father give ye any choice when he contracts a bride for ye?” she questioned boldly. “Or will ye turn yer nose up no matter who is depending upon ye to do yer duty? Like a spoiled child who knows naught of the way alliances keep a clan safe?”

  His eyes narrowed. For a moment, it looked like he was considering what she said, almost as if she’d surprised him somehow.

  “Nae if me duty includes making sure me kin can start a feud.”

  “I have no such desire.” She shouldn’t snap at him but just couldn’t squelch the urge. “A contented man”—she had to stop to swallow the lump lodged in her throat—“is happy to stay at home.”

  He studied her for a long moment, one that felt far longer than it really could have been. She felt like he was looking at her thoughts, his gaze cutting past her realistic reasons, to see her true feelings.

  “So what is it that draws ye to a man old enough to be yer grandfather? The title? I suppose I can believe that. Yer sister was certainly enchanted by titles.”

  “Half sister.” She paused, realizing that what Bari had so often used to insult her was something she prided herself on.

  “And I’m bastard-born,” he replied softly. “Which changes nothing when it comes to me loyalties. Or, I doubt, yers.”

  He was trying to intimidate her, but instead, his words somehow impressed her. There was something in his dark eyes that intrigued her, and she stared into the dark orbs, trying to decipher it.

  He snorted at her. “Do nae try it.”

  “Try what?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, and she suddenly realized just how close he was. There was no more than a pace between them now, and she jumped back, colliding with the hard stone of the wall. His lips twitched.