The Highlander’s Bride Trouble

by Mary Wine

  She grabbed the front of her skirt and stomped down the steps toward her mare.

  “Brat,” the captain muttered under his breath.

  “I was thinking selfish fool,” Nareen answered softly.

  The captain grunted and nodded. “That as well.” He stepped partially into Abigail’s path and leveled a hard look at her. “I advise ye to stay here, lass. I know Laird MacLeod will nae be happy to hear ye have departed, much less so when he hears that ye ride without proper escort. The MacKays have vowed vengeance on the Ross with just cause, I’m sorry to say.”

  It was a foolish risk. She knew better.

  “Well, Nareen?” Abigail called from atop her mare. “Are ye attending me, or shall I make sure me father knows he owes ye not a single crust of bread? He is me sire, so do nae be thinking he’ll have ye beneath his roof without me good word.”

  “Laird MacLeod would want ye to be here when he returns,” the captain pressed quietly.

  “Which is why I must go,” Nareen replied. “I know ye are right, but I cannae accept his suit. So I cannae make any demands on him. That would nae be right. I’m going home to me father from court.”

  “At least ye are nae going to continue serving her.”

  It was a bold thing to say about the earl’s daughter, but the captain was a Highlander. Just as Saer was. They were men who kept their own minds and didn’t bend their knees to the undeserving.

  “Nareen…” Abigail whined again.

  “Good luck to ye, Mistress Grant.” The captain stepped aside.

  “Thank ye,” Nareen replied.

  Her belly was knotted, and she worried that she was going to need that luck.

  A great deal of it.

  ***

  Saer discovered himself happy to see the walls of the Ross fortress that evening. It wasn’t the sturdy walls that warmed his heart, even though he had spent the day selecting stone to build up his own. No. He craved Nareen. It was more than a need to ease his lust. He longed for her smile and the way she looked him straight in the eye when she had something to tell him.

  His grin broadened.

  And he liked the way she resisted him. Propping her hand onto her hip. He doubted she realized how much that pose pushed her breasts up. He might just tell her, for the sake of seeing her reaction. She’d spit fire at him, but he liked that facet of her character.

  And hoped marriage would never change her.

  But the captain of the guard met them in the yard, and the news he carried was grim.

  “Ye allowed them to depart with only six retainers?” Saer exploded before the earl had a chance to respond. “Are ye a half-wit?”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed, and he directed his answer to the earl. “I warned them of the dangers. Mistress Grant even tried to hold yer daughter back, but there was no stopping her.”

  “She’s half yer size, man,” Saer growled. “Ye should have locked her in the damned stocks and left her there until she gained some sense.”

  The earl waved his hands in the air. “Me daughter is strong-willed.” His body was trembling, and he licked his lips repeatedly. “They will be well enough.” The earl dismissed the news as he began to climb the stairs. His gillie was already waiting at the top with his master’s goblet. The earl reached for the drinking vessel like a starving babe, gulping down mouthfuls of the wine so fast, it trickled down the sides of his chin and stained the collar of his shirt.

  Saer turned away in disgust, eyeing the captain again.

  “The mistress was right nasty to Mistress Grant.”

  Saer forced himself to hear the man out. It took effort, because all he wanted to do was get moving after Nareen.

  “She threatened to dismiss her and have her father give her to ye.”

  “That’s the drivel of a spoiled brat,” Saer snarled. “The earl has no say in Nareen’s fate.”

  “He is the master here,” the captain replied. “The lass would have no one to guard her back, and that much is true. It would also be true on yer land, for one who is nae yer own clan.”

  “The hell it would be,” Saer snapped. “Any man wearing me colors will have integrity or find somewhere else to lay his head. Innocents will nae fear being attacked in me hallways. I’ll turn out any man who acts so savagely.”

  “I can only wish things were so here,” the captain said with a jerk of his head. Saer looked up the steps to see the earl finishing off his second goblet of wine. He was out of breath because he’d been drinking so quickly. He smiled with relief as he stumbled into the keep.

  It was sickening. He had once been a Highlander, but no more.

  “The man’s sons need to know of his state,” the captain muttered. “Yet the pair of them seem to have more interest in serving at court.”

  Saer looked back at the captain. “I am more concerned with retrieving Nareen Grant. If ye’re worthy of yer position, find a way yerself, or live with the consequences. A coward deserves his fate.”

  That was a law of the isles and those who tried to make their way there.

  Saer whistled, and his men grinned. They refastened straps they’d begun to undo and made their horses ready to ride again. They were sixty strong and would not have to fear anything on the open road.

  “So we’re off at last?” Baruch asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Aye,” Saer responded as he swung up onto the back of his stallion. “There is naught here to interest me any longer.”

  The sun was setting quickly, and Saer rode through the gate without a backward glance.

  ***

  “It is lumpy,” Abigail complained as she poked a finger into the pallet Nareen laid out for her.

  Nareen didn’t spare Abigail even a smile.

  “Ye should nae be sulking,” Abigail admonished. “It is me right to remind ye of yer place.”

  Nareen finished transforming the bed of the wagon into a sleeping pallet for Abigail. With the trunks removed, there was ample space to lay out a padded cushion. It was stuffed with carded wool and would make a fine place to spend the night, since there were no inns nearby.

  Of course, only Abigail would enjoy such luxury. The rest of her escort would be making do with the ground, but that didn’t stop Abigail from pushing her fingers into the pad and wrinkling her nose with distaste.

  Nareen turned to look at her. “I am the daughter of a laird and yer companion.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “Ye cannae say what ye are to me!”

  “I can and will,” Nareen answered firmly.

  Abigail’s face contorted with anger. “I’ll put ye out right here.”

  “Do as ye like,” Nareen replied. “The mare is mine, and I’ll make me way very well. I do nae need others to see to me needs, but ye will have no one to dress ye come morning if I am gone.”

  It was a bold statement. She’d have to cross four different clan lands before making it back to Grant territory. It would be a dangerous endeavor.

  “Yet it was me father who paid for the feed for the mare. I’ll nae allow ye to take her with ye.”

  “And ye, who left with only six retainers,” Nareen reminded her. “Are ye truly so foolish as to waste their attention on watching me and me mare?”

  “That is outrageous!”

  Nareen stared straight at her. “As much so as ye threatening to have yer father give me to Saer MacLeod.”

  Abigail snapped her mouth shut and looked at the ground like a naughty child. “It was nae very kind of me, I know, and I will nae do such a thing again.”

  “Ye do nae understand the concept of kindness, and I shall no longer serve ye, for ye do nae value me dedication.”

  “Oh…but I do, Nareen,” Abigail argued. “Did I nae rescue ye from yer cousin’s home?”

  �
�Aye,” Nareen said. “But ye committed the same sin Ruth did when ye threatened to give me to Saer MacLeod. I have always made it clear to ye that I shall not be owned. Ye will find a new companion at court.”

  “It will nae be difficult,” Abigail snapped.

  “I am glad we are in agreement.” Nareen jumped down from the cart, leaving Abigail behind.

  “Nareen—”

  “Hush!” Nareen scolded her as she realized something was wrong. The horses were dancing and fighting to break free. Their ears had perked up, and they began to jerk their heads against the bridles holding them to some nearby trees. The Ross retainers stopped talking by the fire they’d built to cook supper, and turned to face the darkness beyond them.

  “But…” Abigail whined.

  “There is trouble here.” Nareen grabbed the dagger she had secured to her belt.

  Abigail’s eyes widened as the firelight flashed off the blade of the dagger. With a muffled squeal, she scooted back into the wagon like a frightened child.

  The attack came swiftly. There was a cry the night wind carried before the camp was overrun.

  Abigail screamed and didn’t stop.

  Nareen cursed the woman while trying to defend herself. She raised the dagger and turned to face the man who tried to lock his arms around her from behind. She slashed across his forearm, drawing a vicious growl from him.

  “So ye have claws…do ye?”

  “I’ve no wish to kill ye,” she warned, backing away as the screams of the Ross retainers filled the night.

  He lowered himself and opened his arms wide. “Ye’re nae going to be the end of me, lass…”

  Her stomach tightened, and sweat began to coat her palm. But she tightened her grip and moved away from the wagon to give herself more room. The warrior launched himself at her, but she twisted and moved out of his path. He stumbled past her, turning at the last second when he realized she was in motion, and clamping a hard hand onto the wrist in which she held her dagger.

  He snickered. “Well now, that was nae—”

  Nareen shoved her fist up, into the soft spot beneath his jaw. He snarled and jerked backward out of reflex. She stumbled away, regaining her footing as more men came toward her.

  “What have we here? Colm?”

  The man she’d struck jumped to his feet and spit before wiping his mouth across his forearm. “She’s mine,” he barked.

  His comrades chuckled. “It does nae look that way from here,” one taunted.

  Colm began closing the distance between them. Nareen turned to face him, allowing the firelight to illuminate her arisaid.

  “Hold, Colm, she’s a Grant.”

  “I do nae give a shit. She cut me, and I’m going to take that little toy away from her.”

  With her attention on Colm, Nareen missed the men coming up behind her. The night was full of them, at least thirty or more. One grabbed the dagger and pulled her back against his body with an arm around her chest. He ripped the weapon from her grip with a soft snort.

  “She’s lost her toy, so calm yerself, Colm.”

  Nareen twisted, ducking her head beneath the arm that held her as Kael had taught her. She broke free and heard Colm chuckle.

  “Ye see?” Colm muttered as he pointed at her. “This one is trouble.”

  Someone yanked Abigail out of the cart. She was whimpering, the firelight shining off trails of tears wetting her face.

  “I’ll gladly trade ye this one for that one,” the man hauling Abigail said to his comrades. “At least that one does nae scream like a babe.”

  “How dare ye!” Abigail exploded. “I am the daughter of the Earl of Ross! She is naught but the castoff of the Grants.”

  Colm stopped inspecting the cut on his forearm and peered at Abigail. “Are ye now? Well, lads, it seems we’ve found the means to justice tonight. Laird MacKay will be right displeased to know we found a prize and he was nae along.”

  Nareen’s stomach was knotted. There was no way to fight them all off. Still, she turned one way and then another as she searched for an escape. Someone clamped their arms around her, lifting her right off her feet to the amusement of the MacKays. One of the men watching grabbed one of her ankles and began tying a rope around it. She snarled and kicked out at him. Her foot connected with his head, making a dull thud. He rolled back, head over heels, before righting himself.

  “Bitch!” he cursed her.

  But the man holding her only laughed. “I’m thinking the laird is going to enjoy this one more than the other.”

  He began squeezing her until she couldn’t fill her lungs.

  “Vengeance is cold, but this little spitfire is plenty warm.”

  Unable to breathe, Nareen’s vision began to blur. Her muscles lost their strength, and she sagged. Helplessness rushed over her, filling her with terror as she struggled to maintain consciousness. All her fight gained her was one last look at the satisfied smirks on the faces of her captors.

  And the knowledge that she was completely at their mercy.

  Three

  Nareen woke with her head hanging over her mare. Her belly hurt from the saddle pressing into it, but she was tied tight, unable to do anything more than endure.

  The MacKay had left the campsite behind and were now stopped in the shadow of a ridge where the moonlight didn’t penetrate. Water rushed by, helping to mask the sound of the men and horses. A fire was burning near the ridge, to keep the light from being seen by the Ross.

  They were experienced raiders, and the realization sent a chill through her.

  “So ye’re done sleeping, eh?”

  Colm appeared beside her and pulled her off the back of the mare. Nareen snorted in disgust, but she had little choice with her hands bound.

  “Cut me loose, so I do nae have to suffer yer hands upon me.”

  Colm shook his head. “Ye are far too handy with a dagger, lass, and me wife would likely nae appreciate me having to handle ye any more than I already have, for ye are a fine-looking woman.”

  He locked a firm hand around her upper arm and began to guide her toward the center of the group. Abigail let out a wail from somewhere in front of them. Nareen turned to see her mistress collapsed in a heap. The MacKay retainers dealing with her left her where she’d fallen. But a whistle from Colm, and they reached down to haul Abigail up.

  “Me father will gut ye all for this!” Her nose was red, and tears had made dirty smears down her cheeks.

  “Thank Christ ye are nae such a weakling,” Colm muttered to Nareen. “I know the Earl of Ross to be a man without honor, but I’m still shocked to see the whelp he’s allowed his daughter to become.”

  Colm pushed her forward until she faced a man whose bonnet had three feathers standing up on its side. The pommel of his sword was visible over his left shoulder like the rest of his men, but it had a gleam the others lacked.

  “Laird MacKay?” she asked boldly—maybe too boldly, given she was bound and surrounded, but Nareen lifted her chin and faced off with him.

  He frowned, his gaze settling on her as his eyes narrowed. Somehow, she got the feeling he was not pleased with his men, but that was likely wishful thinking on her part. Whatever his feelings, he controlled his expression.

  “Ye’re a handsome woman.”

  Nareen held her chin steady. She resisted the urge to test her bonds again. She could feel the rope biting into her wrists, and knew they were firm. So she would stand steady.

  “I am Bastian MacKay.”

  “Ye are a man who preys on women, and naught else about ye interests me,” Nareen informed him. She was being brazen, and for certain there were plenty who would call her foolish, for Bastian was a large man in his prime. His hair was golden brown, and his eyes the color of a summer sky. He looked like a Viking, but the kilt strapped
to his lean waist proclaimed him a Highlander.

  He grinned at her. “Ye are nothing like yer mistress.”

  Abigail was still whimpering in a heap where the MacKay retainers had left her.

  “I am a Grant.”

  His lips parted in a grin. “Ye are Nareen Grant, Laird Grant’s only daughter, which accounts for the boldness in ye.” His expression settled into a stony one. “I know who me men have brought me, but if I did nae, yer mistress there was happy to tell me.”

  Of course. Abigail lacked sense as well as self-discipline.

  “Excellent,” Nareen replied calmly, as though her hands were not bound. “That will make it much easier for me. I wish to make it plain to ye that it is in yer best interests to send a message to me brother, stating yer ransom demands.”

  His lips curved again, this time reminding her too much of Saer.

  “I believe I might enjoy explaining me demands to ye instead.”

  Nareen scoffed at him. “Forgive me, I mistook ye for a Highlander. Nae a common thief who has no concept of honor.”

  “He understands honor, Nareen.”

  The MacKay parted, many of the retainers jumping around and pulling their swords before they realized Saer MacLeod was at the top of the ridge. He jumped down, landing perfectly before making his path toward her with a purposeful stride.

  She closed her eyes and opened them again, but he was still there. A crazy twist of relief went through her, until she realized there just might be a bloodbath. Saer’s retainers were following him with determined expressions, and she felt the tension tightening as they came down the ridge.

  She couldn’t live with blood on her skirts. It was her fault for leaving without a proper escort. She knew better. A laird’s daughter owed her people the respect of not placing them in the position of needing to fight for her.

  But Saer pointed at Bastian, making it clear who he wanted to see.

  The MacKay laird grunted and waved Saer forward. The MacKay retainers parted, but their expressions were grim.