The Highlander’s Bride Trouble

by Mary Wine

  “I am Saer MacLeod.”

  “And ye’re off yer land,” Bastian remarked.

  “So are ye.” Saer stepped up, squaring off with him. He set his retainers back with a firm motion of his hand. “This one belongs to me.”

  Nareen opened her mouth, but shut it when Bastian looked her way. The MacKay laird burst into laughter.

  “Seems she does nae agree with ye.”

  Saer sent her a narrow-eyed look before returning his attention to Bastian. “Yer feud with the MacKays does nae need the Grants becoming involved.” Saer spoke clear and loud enough for the men watching to hear.

  Bastian tilted his head to one side. “Now I think that is a matter of what side they become involved on. If I were to wed this fiery lass, the Grants would have to support me.”

  “They would nae,” Nareen said. “And I am nae wedding ye.”

  Bastian winked at her. “Ye’ll get accustomed to me, lass, as all lasses do. And ye would nae be wanting to see yer babe bastard-born.” His expression tightened. “Ye’ll wed if I take ye home with me.”

  “She belongs to me.” Saer’s voice was menacing. Nareen shivered.

  “It looks like she was running away from ye, MacLeod,” Bastian taunted.

  “At least I know how to run her down, and do nae need to tie her up.”

  The MacLeod retainers chuckled.

  “Well now, Colm there is a married man.” Bastian pulled a dagger from his belt and slit the leather knotted around Nareen’s wrists. “He couldn’t be holding on to her, now could he?”

  Nareen rubbed her wrists, trying to restore feeling to her hands.

  “Laird MacLeod, ye must take me back to me father,” Abigail wailed.

  Bastian’s lips twitched. “I’d be happy to give ye that one.”

  “Why don’t ye wed her and end yer feud?” Saer suggested.

  The MacKay retainers groaned. Abigail’s eyes widened, a hurt expression emerging on her face.

  “Because I was hoping to have a wife who was more mature than the babes she’ll give me,” Bastian explained. “There is no comparing the two lasses, and ye are here because ye know it.”

  The teasing mood vanished. Bastian faced off with Saer, the two men equally powerful. They had the same number of retainers, and Nareen felt her mouth go dry as she recognized how dire her circumstances were. Either Saer would fight for her or leave her to her fate.

  “Then we have business,” Saer decided. He reached up and lifted his sword belt over his head and handed it to Baruch. He tossed his bonnet aside too, and flexed his fingers.

  Bastian watched him from beneath hooded eyes. The MacKay laird turned and raked her from head to toe with his gaze.

  “Aye, we’ve got business. She’s a prize worth fighting to keep,” Bastian declared as he looked straight into her eyes.

  “Ye will nae fight over me!” Her blood chilled, and not just from the thought of them fighting. Bastian was every bit as powerful as Saer. Dread nauseated her.

  Bastian stepped in front of her, so Saer had to go through him to get her. “I’m nae giving her up.”

  “And I’m nae leaving without her,” Saer confirmed menacingly.

  Someone reached out and pulled her back by the belt securing her arisaid. The men also moved until they circled the two combatants. Fear knotted her insides. She clamped her mouth shut and curled her fingers into the fabric of her skirt to control herself.

  She couldn’t distract Saer.

  The thought entered her mind and refused to leave. It was a protective idea, one she couldn’t ignore. There was no denying that she cared what happened to him.

  They circled each other in slow, crouched paces. Saer watched for an opening, weighing his opponent’s strengths as Bastian studied Saer with the same critical look.

  When they clashed, Nareen flinched.

  There was the harsh sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the raw groans of men colliding. Bastian went low in an attempt to lift Saer off his feet, but Saer was ready for him, cutting to the side as he drove his fist into Bastian’s jaw.

  The MacKay laird stumbled back but shook his head and chuckled. “Me sister hits harder.”

  “Is that who taught ye to fight then?” Saer asked.

  The men clustered around them were laying out wagers. Saer launched himself at Bastian, grabbing him by the hair and slipping behind him to lock his arm around his neck. Bastian dropped to the ground, tossing Saer over his shoulder. They rolled, and their spectators made way. Bastian tried to use his legs to trap Saer as the two wrestled like a pair of bears.

  It was brutal and savage. More blows landed, and blood began to trickle down both their faces. Bastian had a split lip, while Saer’s nose had taken a hard hit. They were breathing harshly, their chests laboring to draw in enough breath to support their battle. The retainers cheered on their laird, but Bastian and Saer had their attention only on each other.

  It was a horrifying display, one that drove home how helpless Nareen was. Tears strung the corners of her eyes as she watched. The hard sound of flesh hitting flesh was sickening.

  The MacLeod let out a cheer as Saer succeeded in getting a solid lock around Bastian’s neck. They were both grappling on the ground, but the MacKay laird was struggling to breathe. Saer leaned over the man, digging his feet into the dirt to add his body weight to the hold. Bastian clawed at him but lost his strength at last, going limp.

  Saer released him before he passed out, jumping back to a low crouch in case the man wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Bastian rolled over and snarled as he adopted the same position. But he was still blinking his eyes as his head cleared.

  “Damn it all,” he cursed while easing his stance and standing up. He was furious but nodding. “’Tis done.”

  Bastian extended his hand. Saer straightened up and took a long moment studying his opponent’s hand.

  “I’m a man of honor, MacLeod. The woman is yers,” Bastian clarified. “Although I’m thinking about returning her dagger to her without telling ye.”

  Saer took his hand, clasping his wrist. “Another reason why she’s worth fighting for. She is nae helpless.”

  “She’ll give ye fierce sons.” Bastian wiped the blood off his chin with his shirtsleeve. “And putting them in her belly is a chore I envy ye.”

  Her cheeks turned scarlet as the men around them cheered.

  Bastian looked back at her and jerked his head toward Saer. Someone gave her a push from behind, gaining another chuckle from the men watching.

  She didn’t make eye contact with Saer. She couldn’t.

  Her emotions were just a breath away from spilling over. She wanted to weep, and she wanted to rail against being given to him. But she didn’t want to stay with Bastian, and it was all churning inside her like a storm making ready to burst.

  So she walked to her mare and mounted. Snickers followed her as the MacLeod all mounted.

  “Nareen… Ye cannae leave me!” Abigail wailed.

  Saer wiped the sweat from his face but didn’t move. He remained squared off with Bastian.

  “Do nae worry, Saer MacLeod. I do nae plan to settle me differences with Laird Ross through a woman.”

  “Then what do ye plan to do with her?” Saer asked.

  “I’ll use her to draw him out of his fortress,” Bastian replied. “The man hides there, refusing to face me. He killed me father during a game of dice.”

  “The earl is addicted to wine. He nearly buckled for being deprived of it for a single day. Hardly a worthy opponent. It will bring ye no satisfaction to fight him.”

  “If it was yer father’s blood on his hands, would that excuse be enough to make ye forget the matter without so much as a meeting?”

  The tension built around them again, the MacKay retainers glari
ng at Saer to see what sort of man he was. Saer finally shook his head.

  “It would not.”

  Bastian nodded with approval.

  “But I still cannae leave her in uncertain circumstances. Her father’s sins are nae hers.” Saer made his point clear.

  “I’m here because I heard he’d gone out. Nae to raid.” Bastian growled in frustration. “A few hours more sunlight, and I might have caught him. But I have his daughter now, and if he wants her back, he’ll have to face me.”

  Bastian lifted his chin, making it clear he wouldn’t be changing his position.

  “Ye cannae leave me with this savage, Laird MacLeod!”

  Saer looked at Abigail, and she gasped before covering her mouth with her hands. “Do nae hold the fact that I called ye savage against me, I was just—”

  “Being a brat,” Saer confirmed.

  Bastian nodded. “She is that.”

  Saer looked back at him. “Her father is in no condition to face ye. Look what he has let his daughter become.”

  Bastian looked at Abigail, but he shook his head. “She’ll nae be harmed.” He locked gazes with Saer. “Even if she whines otherwise. I give ye me word on that. But her father will face me if he wants her back.”

  Saer lifted an eyebrow. “And if he leaves her with ye?”

  Bastian grunted. “Do nae rub me face in yer victory. I was just thinking I like ye, man. How can ye wish such a fate upon me?”

  Saer nodded before turning toward his men.

  “No… No!”

  Abigail cried, but no one paid her any attention. When they ignored her, she closed her mouth and looked confused.

  Nareen couldn’t help but pity her. She was a creation of her father’s lack of self-discipline. Coddling her when she was a child had brought her to where she was. Maybe she would be better off when this was over.

  Nareen only wished she might feel the same for her own fate.

  But Saer stopped by her mare, looking up at her with a glitter of victory in his eyes. There was something else, too, and it sent a shiver down her spine. When she looked away, he boldly cupped her knee to bring her attention back to his face.

  “I promised ye, Nareen, when ye run, I will follow.”

  His tone was low and edged with a promise. Excitement began to pulse inside her passage, the memory of the pleasure he’d delivered to her making her hungry for more of his touch.

  “I should thank ye…for coming to me aid.” She locked gazes with him and felt like he was seeing her thoughts. “But the truth is, I do nae want to.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. When he finished, he looked back into her eyes. “Ye’re a spitfire, and it pleases me that ye are nae a liar.”

  “Ye may no’ always be so pleased with me spirit. Think on that before ye insist on taking me to yer land. I will nae obey ye or any man. Why do ye think I do nae seek marriage?”

  His lips pressed into a hard line. “Trust takes time. Ye’ll wed me once ye trust me.”

  She shook her head, but he moved past her to his stallion, mounting the creature in one powerful motion. His kilt swished with his actions, flashing her a brief glance at the perfection of his thighs and backside.

  Every inch of him was hard, and she liked it far too much. Like some dark need that lived deep inside her. It stunned her with its intensity.

  Saer lifted his hand, and his men rode out on his order. They swept her up in their columns, moving her away from Bastian MacKay.

  She just wished she didn’t feel such a dread for what was to come. Saer was a good man, and she knew without a doubt she was going to have to disappoint him.

  That fact gave her no happiness at all.

  ***

  Before the moon hit its highest point, Baruch insisted, “The horses need rest.”

  “Aye,” Saer agreed. “Even if it’s the last thing I want to do.”

  He yearned for his own land. But he headed toward a forested area, guiding his horse into the tree line to gain cover.

  “Only until dawn.”

  The men near him nodded. It wasn’t a submissive acknowledgment of his order; it was more of an agreement. He preferred his lairdship to be one of mutual respect, and his men knew he’d never ask them to do something he would not himself do.

  “Yer lass is wandering again,” Baruch informed him.

  Saer looked up to catch the last hint of Nareen’s arisaid as she made her way away from his men.

  “I’ll see to her. Set a watch and make sure everyone gets some rest.”

  “Aye, Laird.”

  Saer hurried through rubbing his horse down, but the animal was more interested in resting, turning away before Saer had finished. He offered him a last pat before indulging his personal desire to follow Nareen.

  ***

  She heard him approaching.

  There was a soft crack of dry leaves, nothing else. She was tense, and her senses were heightened. She would have sworn she felt Saer closing the distance between them.

  It had to be a curse, the way she felt him.

  “So ye’ve run me down.” She forced the words past her lips. “What do ye expect I am doing after so long in the saddle? I needed a moment of privacy.”

  He’d planted his feet in a wide stance and crossed his arms over his chest. His hands rested on his forearms as he contemplated her.

  “Would ye have preferred Bastian in yer bed?”

  She stiffened, the MacKay laird’s declaration still ringing in her ears, but what really held her attention was the tension on Saer’s face.

  “No. I meant what I said, Saer, I will nae wed, because I have no wish to see ye looking at me with anger when I cannae settle into the role of a wife. Ye need to listen to me. I know me mind. What amuses ye now, will irritate ye in the future.”

  He reached up and tapped the side of his face that was blackened from one of Bastian’s fists.

  “Ye owe me thanks for freeing ye.”

  It was too dark to judge his expression, but she moved closer, trying to get a good look into his eyes. All she gained was a tightening in her belly as she neared him. Once more, she was keenly aware of him.

  “I do.” He confused her, distorting the logical decisions she’d made and leaving her questioning her reasoning.

  “Does the idea of being with me truly frighten ye so much that ye would leave without protection?”

  There was tightly controlled rage in his tone, and it shamed her, but her pride flared up. “Ye unsettle me.” She backed away from him. “Which is different than frighten, I’ll have ye know. But when ye are near, me thoughts become muddled.”

  He grunted softly in response.

  “I wouldn’t expect ye to understand,” she sighed. “For I do nae understand the effect ye have on me.”

  He uncrossed his arms and crooked his finger. “Come here.”

  She shook her head.

  “Ye enjoy me touch.” He stepped toward her, and she retreated.

  “A light skirt does as well, so I’ve been told. It does nae mean she enjoys the position of being used.”

  “I will nae be using ye, Nareen.”

  He came closer, his strides longer than hers, making it a challenge for her to maintain the distance between them.

  “And yet ye have already begun to make it clear what yer demands are. Sons. That’s what ye want of me.”

  He stopped, tilting his head to one side. “Do ye nae care for children?”

  “I—” She snapped her mouth shut when she realized she was back to arguing just for the sake of fighting with him. “Like them well enough.”

  “Then there is no difficulty.”

  “No…there is,” she said with hesitation.

  He reached out and caught
a handful of her skirt, jerking her to a halt. Excitement rippled across her skin as she trembled.

  “Is what, lass? Ye want to tell me no, and naught but no.” He leaned down until she felt his warm breath teasing her ear. “No matter how much sense I am making?”

  She locked gazes with him, but in the dark his eyes were only glassy pools. “It is nae about making sense. ’Tis how I feel. Until ye are close, and then…naught makes sense.” She flattened her hand on his chest. A feeble attempt to ward him off, but she used a gentle touch, hoping to touch the tender part of his character. “Ye must find another, Saer.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his lips softened. “The sound of me name on yer lips is sweet, lass.”

  She sighed. “Ye are nae listening, and I truly do nae want to be a harpy.”

  “At last, agreement between us.” He reached out and closed his hand around her wrist. “I do nae care for the slicing side of yer tongue either.”

  “Liar.” She could have bitten her tongue in half for letting the word out.

  Saer had begun tugging her through the trees, but he stopped and turned to look at her.

  “Ye thrive on challenge,” she said. “If I were meek and sweetly obedient to yer will, ye’d nae be anywhere near me.”

  He grinned. “And that is exactly why I am here, Nareen. Ye understand me.”

  “Ye’re arrogant…”

  But he resumed pulling her along behind him. The sound of moving water increased until he tugged her through a few last trees to the edge of a stream.

  “I’ve earned it,” he informed her confidently as he sat down on a large rock. “I have nothing I have nae earned or proven meself able to hold. Including ye.”

  The memory of the fight rose up in vivid color, twisting her insides again.

  “Ye should nae have had to fight for me.”

  He reached into his doublet and pulled out a length of fabric. “Life is nae fair, Nareen. Ye should have stayed in the Ross fortress, but ye did nae.”

  “It was foolish, I know.”

  He nodded approvingly at her admission.

  “Tend to me.”

  She wasn’t sure of his meaning. He offered her the length of fabric. There was something not quite right about the way he remained perched on the rock.