Brodie stopped directly in front of her. “You drugged Kieran, then you went into the woods all the way to the edge of MacGregor land. Did it ever occur to you that you were placing your life in danger?” He seethed.
Orla opened her mouth to say something.
“Shut it!”
She shut her mouth as Brodie continued.
“Not only did you go against my attempts to protect you, you then come here and drink tea like a princess with no concern that I have been searching for you… for half a day!” He roared the last four words.
“But I thought, you were away?” Orla stopped speaking, knowing she had just implicated Amelia.
Brodie clenched his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. “No, that’s what we told Amelia.”
Orla talked fast. “Brodie, it wasn’t her fault. I needed to look at the tracks I found yesterday. There’s something there. I had every intention of coming back before nightfall—”
“Yet here you are and tis nightfall,” he said sarcastically, lifting his arm and gesturing towards the window which framed the view of the night sky.
His tone grated on Orla’s nerves. Rather than try to placate him, which had been her intention, she felt her anger rising in return.
“I’m sorry if I caused you trouble, but there is no need to speak to me like I’m a wee bairn.”
They stood glaring at each other in silence.
Finally, Brodie turned and stormed out of the cottage. Orla heard him issuing orders outside to the retainers. The men dispersed and Brodie left.
Orla breathed a sigh of relief. Her run in with Brodie was having an unwelcome effect on her. It was making her hot and bothered. The more they sparred the more attracted she was to him to the point all she could think about was grabbing his stupid face, climbing him like a tree and kissing him senseless. She needed to get control of her riotous emotions.
Her relief was temporary however when Brodie entered the cottage sometime later, slamming the door shut and locking it. His hair was wet, he had bathed in the Loch.
He held a travel sack in his hand, which he dropped on the floor without taking his eyes off her.
The look on Brodie’s face was heated and feral. He was breathing heavily and staring at her in a way that made her nipples harden and her quim feel as if it would burst into flames.
He then pulled off his shirt and stood before her bare chested. And glory be, Orla thought. It was the most awe-inspiring muscular chest she had ever seen. Bards should write ballads about that torso. He had battle scars in some places, but they only added to the rugged appeal.
“Brodie… er… what are you doing?” She stammered.
“What does it look like, minx? If you willna stay in the Keep, then I will stay in here with you.”
“You cannot stay here?” She winced at the high-pitched panic in her own voice.
“I am keeping my eyes on you at all times from now on,” he said.
“But there’s only one bed.”
“So?”
“Where will you sleep?”
“In it, with you.”
“I dinnae think that’s necessary, I can just return to the Keep.” Orla sprinted for the door, but Brodie prevented her escape by lifting her and throwing her onto the bed.
“Take off your clothes love, tis time for bed,” he whispered.
“Such romantic words Brodie, how the women must gasp and swoon.” Orla bit out.
Brodie was barely keeping it together. Orla was killing him. He was so hard. He was gritting his teeth. He had spent half the day worried sick over her whereabouts and to find her casually drinking tea in her cottage brought out the bear in him.
The constant need to claim her as his warred with his intention to keep a safe distance. He had intended to drag her to the Keep, but in the past half hour he had changed his mind. The only way to protect her was to do it himself. He cursed Kieran for falling for the oldest trick in the book. Brodie shook his head. No, he could not trust her safety with anyone else anymore. She was too precious to him.
“I’ll not ravish you, Orla, but I need to rest and there is no way I am letting you sleep fully clothed so you can escape in the night.”
Orla was trying to keep the panic out of her voice. But she was panicking. There was no way she was sleeping naked next to Brodie. That way led to ruin. It was too intimate, too dangerous. She had opened her heart before and had it trampled on. She was not about to let her traitorous body lead her astray.
“Truce!” she yelled. “I’ll share the bed on two conditions.”
“I’m listening.”
“I wear a lien and we keep pillows between us at all times so there is no touching.”
“Agreed. Now come to bed.” Brodie said immediately, although he had no intention of honoring the deal.
It turned out Orla was the one who broke the agreement because when Brodie woke in the middle of the night, he found her half sprawled on top of him, fast asleep. He chuckled, tucked her into his side like he did the night before in the Keep… and went back to sleep.
***
Chapter 5 – The Missive
The next morning it relieved Orla to find Brodie gone when she awoke. She quickly got out of bed, warmed some water, washed and dressed. She opened the door to see if anyone was outside and was greeted by Lachlan, a guardsman.
“Good morn Orla,” he said.
Orla smiled. “Morning Lachlan. Have you seen Brodie?”
“Aye, he is at the Keep. Ye’ll need to stay indoors until he returns.”
“Can I at least step outside and get some fresh air?”
“No, but ye can open a window and stick your head out of it.” Lachlan quipped.
Orla just rolled her eyes. “Dinnae get smart with me, Lachlan. Where is Kieran?”
“Kieran is on garderobe cleaning duty for the next three days.”
“I spose he willna be happy with me for some time.”
“Aye, and I dinnae wish to join him. So, unless you knock me unconscious, you willna be getting past this door.” He stood, legs apart and arms folded, blocking her way.
Orla just huffed and returned inside.
She was going to go insane, cooped up in the cottage. She needed to follow those tracks. Orla opened the tiny back window and stared out into the woods. Then a thought occurred to her, maybe she could fit through it, if she twisted her body at the right angle.
She had just placed both hands on either side of the frame when a stern voice startled her. “Dinnae even think about it!”
Orla peeked out the window and saw Rory leaning against a tree.
Blasted Brodie, the man thought of everything!
***
Back at the Keep
Brodie had received an urgent message that morning that they needed him at the Keep. When he walked into the Great Hall, he saw Amelia storming towards him.
“There you are you cur!” Amelia punched him in the arm, winced in pain, then kicked him in the shin.
“What have I done now?”
“You are a rogue and a scoundrel. How dare you?” She fumed.
“How dare I what?”
“Seduce Orla and ruin her reputation.” Amelia hissed before kicking him again.
“Amelia, stand down love before you break a limb.” Beiste said as he strolled towards them. “Twould seem my wife heard rumors you slept in Orla’s cottage last night, Brodie.”
“What of it? I dinnae deny it.”
“Brother, surely you can find other women to dally with.”
Brodie was getting angry. It was one thing to insult him; it was quite another to compare Orla with women from his past. “Nothing happened. I guarded her during the night to ensure her safety and I will spend every night in her cottage if that’s what it takes to protect her.”
“I ken the likelihood of you and Orla trysting is minimal but your reputation alone, places her at risk of gossip and censure,” Beiste said.
“Aye twas the talk of the serving
women this morning that you are now warming her bed.” Amelia frowned, placing both hands on her hips.
Brodie looked surprised. He had not contemplated how staying overnight in Orla’s cottage would look to the others. The last thing he wanted was to ruin her reputation.
“Fine, I will do right by her.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Amelia asked.
“Fetch Abbot Hendry. There’s going to be a wedding.”
“Wait a minute, Brodie, dinnae be hasty now,” Amelia said with a concerned expression.
“Mistress, you just told me Orla’s reputation is ruined, so I mean to fix it.”
“Aye, but I didn’t think you would marry her. I just wanted you to stay away. Orla deserves someone…”
“Someone what?” Brodie folded his arms and waited for an explanation.
“She deserves someone who will be faithful to her and not bed other women.”
“And what is your point?” Brodie asked, clenching his jaw.
Amelia hesitated, “Well… tis just that uh… Beiste, willna allow it!”
“I won’t?” Beiste looked confused.
Amelia glared at her husband and elbowed him in the rib.
“Aye, just like Amie says, I cannot allow it,” Beiste said.
“Why not?” Brodie stared daggers at Beiste.
Beiste looked between Amelia and Brodie, both giving him the evil eye. “Bloody hell, I dinnae ken why!”—He looked exasperated — “This conversation is confusing me. Twas not even the reason I called you to the Keep.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and gave Brodie a stern look. She pointed her finger at him. “You willna marry Orla. I forbid it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have crofters to visit and I will take the fifty guardsmen Beiste has trailing me around all day.”
“Tis not fifty guardsmen, dinnae exaggerate wife.” Beiste scoffed.
“Fine, forty-nine then.” Amelia stood on tiptoe, kissed Beiste on the cheek and marched out of the Hall.
Brodie just shook his head, having no idea what just happened. “So, what was the real reason you called me here Beiste?”
“Come with me, Dalziel is in the study we can discuss it there.”
When they entered, Brodie saw Dalziel going over letters.
“Glad you could join us.” Dalziel greeted.
“What is this about?”
They took their seats, and Beiste explained. “A missive arrived this morning from Amelia’s seanáthair, Gilleain Maclean. Norseman have been raiding and pillaging the Hebrides. The Macleans have their hands full protecting the Isles.”
Dalziel continued where Beiste left off. “Gilleain warns one of his spies reported the raiders were looking for a woman. Tis rumored she is the nighean of a powerful Jarl. Her existence has caused a great deal of strife between the Earls of Orkney.”
“Did the raiders mention who she was?”
“Only that she was… mixed-race, and there was something about a fire years ago and a missing bairn,” Beiste said.
Brodie stiffened and started clenching his fists. “What else did he say?”
Beiste continued. “Gilleain remembered meeting Orla here last summer, and the fact she was an orphan and rumored to have Viking blood caused him concern. He warns raiders are on the move with orders to kill her.”
“I will increase the sentinels and guards. Warn the crofters. Gather people into the Keep and reinforce the walls,” Brodie said.
Dalziel responded, “Aye, tis a sound plan. I am waiting on word from the North. I have men there who can get me information faster. Dinnae worry brother, we will keep Orla safe.”
Before they went their separate ways, Brodie stopped them. “Wait, there is something else that needs to be done.”
“What tis it?” Beiste asked.
“I have thought about what Amelia said, out in the Hall. She is right, I cannot protect Orla without ruining her reputation. Which is why I mean to marry her.”
“Since when does anyone listen to Amelia?” Dalziel looked at Brodie like he had lost his mind.
Beiste agreed. “Aye, she’s my wife, and I dinnae even listen to her half the time.”
“Orla is in danger. I want her to have the protection of my name and I want the right to fight anyone who comes between us,” Brodie said.
Brodie thought about Orla as his wife and he experienced none of the panic he usually did when he thought about marriage and being tied to one woman for eternity. In fact, he felt the opposite. He could not imagine a life without her in it. Was that love?
“Then I’ll arrange it. But Amelia willna be pleased,” Beiste said with a sigh.
“Tis not Amelia I intend to please.” Brodie replied. “There is one more thing, I need both your backing on this.”
“Name it,” Dalziel said.
“I want Kieran to have Orla’s room.”
***
Cottage Life
Amelia had made a surprise visit to Orla to see how she was faring.
“Orla, I needed to make sure you are all right?”
“Aye, I am well. Although I am being held prisoner in my own cottage by an idiot.” She shouted the word ‘idiot’ so Lachlan could hear. He just snorted.
“Orla, I am sorry Beiste tricked me. I assumed they were away for the afternoon, but they were only just in the village. Of all the underhanded things to do. That man kens me too well.”
“I told you Amie, he is always a step ahead of you. But now you are here, I have news. I found tracks yesterday leading to the edge of MacGregor land. I tried to tell Brodie about it, but we just ended up… never you mind.”
“Ended up what Orla? Spit it out.”
“Nothing, he just insisted we sleep in the same bed and I forgot to pursue the matter.”
“And did you just sleep in the same bed? or sleeeep in the same bed.”
“We slept as in with eyes closed and no naked parts touching.”
“Good, because Orla we all ken Brodie’s reputation with the ladies and I dinnae want you to be another notch on his bedpost.”
“Tis no fear of that Amie, I despise the man.” Orla lied. “But I dinnae want to talk about Brodie.”
“Aye, sorry, tell me about the tracks.”
“Amelia, I think there are people camping on the other side of the borderline. I believe one of them to be a large man with a limp. If I can kidnap him, I will have more answers about who is trying to kill me.”
“Kidnap him? Are you daft? You, cannot capture a giant.” Amelia looked horrified.
“Aye, I will, and you are going to help me.”
“Orla… I dinnae like the sound of this.”
***
Beyond the Borderline
The switch was easy enough to achieve. Amelia had sent one of her guards to fetch Morag for tea. Ten minutes later Orla left the cottage wearing Morag’s hooded cloak while Amelia and Morag remained in the cottage.
Lachlan was none the wiser, and Rory was terrified of Morag, so he did not question her.
Orla was now standing in the same spot she was the day before. She stared across the borderline between MacGregor land and the woods leading to the river. Before she could second guess herself, she left her horse grazing and crossed the borderline on foot.
It was easy enough to pick up the tracks again, so Orla followed. If anyone was watching, they would assume she was an old crone wandering the hillside.
By midday, Orla had come across an old campsite the embers of a fire still burned. It was there she found more footprints of various sizes accompanying the larger tracks. There were four of them altogether. She studied the direction of their movements. The tracks were still fresh, which meant she needed to hurry.
She came to a river and kept walking through an area with dense vegetation. Pushing her way through heavy thickets she tripped on a tree root and stumbled forward straight into a clearing… and a group of men setting up camp.
Time stood still as they stared at her and she at them. The men had gold
en hair. She noted an enormous giant amid them. He held a bundle of firewood. His mouth was ajar with a look reflecting her own. Beside him was a breathtakingly handsome man who was stunning. His blue eyes were framed by a classically chiseled face and his muscular arms bore strange inked markings. He was so attractive Orla imagined he had fallen from heaven. All that was missing, was angel's wings.
Orla slowly retreated, taking one step backward before she spun around and ran.
“Git her!” She heard one shout before they were hot on her heels crashing through the forest. They were talking in a dialect that seemed familiar. Norsemen.
Orla was inwardly cursing her own stupidity now for venturing out on her own. What was she thinking, trying to capture a seven-foot limping giant?
She could hear them gaining on her. Her only chance was to dive into the river and swim. She had just made it to the riverbank when arms like steel banded around her from behind. She tried to stomp on her captor's foot, but he overpowered her. She had her weapons under the cloak and could not reach her dirk, so instead she jerked her head backwards in the hope of head-butting him in the face. Given the height difference, she only grazed his chin.
Her captor chuckled. “Whit, is dis? A feisty wench?” He twirled her around to face him and they both froze.
Orla came face to face with the handsome angel and up close he was… breathtaking. He tilted his head to the side as if scrutinizing her; he straightened and then he broke out into a wide smile. It was at that moment Orla recognized him.
“Tor?”
“Aye, peedie bird. I’ve come to rescue ye.”
Before she could register anything else, he had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He then bent his head down and tilted her chin up before his lips came crashing down on hers.
And that was when, all hell broke loose.
***
Chapter 6 – Return of the Golden-Hair
Torstein Hagansson and his men had been lying low just outside of MacGregor land for two days. They were waiting for the right moment to extract Orla with as little disruption as possible. Tor was not in the habit of murdering innocent people, but if they got in his way, he would stop at nothing to complete his mission.
Handfasted to the Bear: Reformed Rogues Book 2 Page 5