The Pirate Laird's Hostage (The Highland Warlord Series Book 3)

by Tessa Murran

  ‘Aye, but for victory, they are willing to bury their differences. The clans hereabouts are the same, a disreputable bunch, always squabbling like bairns. They won’t waste men fighting for the Bruce if he is about to fall to this latest attack. They will keep their strength for fighting each other.’

  ‘So, you trust no one and must be cleverer than your enemies.’

  ‘I must know my enemies, Morna, and to do that you need to look a man in the eye.’

  ‘Or woman,’ said Morna turning and smiling. She immediately turned away at the smouldering look he gave her. All she was to this man was an alliance.

  ‘You are not my enemy,’ Will said, pressing his face into the back of her head and placing a kiss just behind her ear, sending a stab of lust between her legs. His breath was hot on her skin, the smell of him tempting and wrong. ‘One day it is my intention to hold sway over all these isles and you,’ he said, nuzzling her neck, ‘shall be queen of it all.’

  Suddenly, all her sickness was forgotten, as were the other men all crowded onto the ship with them. There was just Will and the ocean and his voice, so seductive, as he rubbed his face in her hair.

  ‘My father said the same thing to my mother once, long ago,’ he whispered.

  An alliance, not love, not tenderness, Morna told herself.

  ‘I did not know that, Will. Your name was O’Neill before you took the name Bain, is that not Irish?’

  ‘Aye, it is. My father hailed from Innishowen, from a sea-faring family. His ship was wrecked off the Scottish coast by Clan Bain, and he was the only one of its crew who made it to shore. My mother found him lying on the beach and took him to safety in a cave, to hide out from the murderous intent of her clansmen. God knows why my father trusted her to do it, but it had something to do with the fact that my mother was a fine-looking woman back then, or so she was fond of telling me.’ He laughed softly.

  ‘How did they end up together?’

  ‘She helped my father steal a boat, not much of one, by all accounts, but small enough to man alone, and big enough not to be swallowed by the waters hereabouts. It was a reckless undertaking to take to sea in it, and my father had to leave my mother behind. He would not risk taking her with him to a watery grave. As he was leaving, he said to her ‘One day I will come back for you and make you my queen,’ and he did. My father returned with a massive force of men from Ireland, intent on challenging the Bains to a fight over my mother’s hand. Luckily, they gave in without bloodshed when he was persuaded by his clansmen to offer the Bains a great deal of gold and the chance to live another day. After that, they handed her over without much ado. My father may have taken my mother through force and bribery, but he was already half in love with her, and she with him.’ Will fell silent for a moment, and there was just the splash of the waves and the wind straining against the sail. ‘They settled north of here, at Balladour, and for the rest of their lives they loved each other to distraction, for ‘twas meant to be,’ he said softly.

  ‘And you, Will? Have you ever found love?’ asked Morna, hating her weakness for asking.

  ‘If you love someone, anyone, you hold your heart open and let all the pain of the world fill it. What sane man would go searching for that?’

  Morna wanted to mine the depth of his words, but then Waldrick shouted out to Will.

  ‘The wind is rising Laird, we should trim sail, else we’ll be caught and topple over.’

  Will cursed under his breath. ‘Hold on tight, for there is a squall blowing in. It is about to get rough,’ he said and, in an instant, he was gone, leaving Morna to make her unsteady way back to the centre of the ship.

  For the next few hours, Morna couldn’t take her eyes off Will as he leapt about the ship organising his men, climbing the mast to make good the sails, as wind and waves lashed at the boat, making it pitch and roll. Will was soon soaked, but there was nothing on his face save sheer joy. He was elated by the storm, and he looked over at her constantly. Every time their eyes met, he would smile right into hers and, in spite of the cold and the wet, that smile warmed her to the core.

  They finally sighted land on the horizon. Barra – a lumpen rock, remote, misty and scoured by brisk northern gales. Several well-armed men were awaiting them on the beach. As the small boat bringing them to shore scraped up onto the shingle beach, Will took Morna’s hand. He helped her out, and she stepped onto Barra with a strange fluttering in her heart at his touch and much trepidation about what would happen next.

  Will and Waldrick were greeted warmly by a bear of a man with red hair and a wild beard who took hold of each of them, forearm to forearm, and bellowed out a greeting. He seemed a friend, not a foe, and soon turned curious eyes to her.

  ‘Who might you be, beauty?’ he said, gawping with appreciation.

  Morna opened her mouth to speak, but Will cut her off. ‘My new bride, Morna. Is she not a fine sight, sister to Cormac Buchanan no less, so mind you keep your treacherous paws off of her, Eadan.’

  ‘Bride, you say? A Buchanan? That might ruffle a few feathers,’ the man said, taking Morna’s hand in his own and kissing the back of it. ‘My hearty good wishes on your marriage and may God smile on you for your bravery. You must be either a very strong or a very foolhardy woman if you seek to tame this rascal. There’s many a lass tried and failed.’

  ‘I am neither. I am an alliance, nothing more,’ replied Morna, bluntly, hurt by Will’s introduction, for he had made no mention of feelings or love or caring a jot for her.

  ‘Fate dropped this jewel into my lap, Eadan,’ said Will, giving her a filthy look. ‘Are the others here?’

  ‘Aye, all of them and restless they are, keen to get this over with,’ said Eadan looking at her with confusion. ‘The kirk is just up over the headland.’

  ‘Let us make haste then. Morna, come,’ snapped Will as though she were a bitch to come to heel.

  Will let Eadan get ahead on the path up from the beach and, when he was out of earshot, he took her arm. ‘It is best you stay that tongue of yours in the company we shall meet above and let me do the talking.’

  ‘Of course, husband, whatever you say,’ replied Morna

  ***

  A brisk walk later they arrived at the kirk Will had told her about. It was small and ancient and stood on an exposed hillside surrounded by a collection of low-roofed cottages with worn thatch. Many people were standing around braziers warming their hands and setting up cooking pots. As they entered the throng, people stopped and stared for a moment before crowding around, some friendly, shouting greetings to Will, and others staring insolently, eyeing up the opposition. Will took her hand in his and introduced her to his many acquaintances, but their names and faces became a blur.

  The crowd parted, and a man and woman stepped forth, hand in hand. Morna gasped, for the man was as spectacularly repulsive as the woman was beautiful.

  Will bent his head to her ear and tightened his grip on her hand. ‘Be on your guard. The one that looks like a mangy boar is Wymon Cranstoun.’

  At the mention of his name, Morna squeezed Will’s hand tight, but she paid little heed to Will’s enemy for she could not take her eyes off the woman, blonde, dazzling, with the face of an angel and the wanton curves of a seductress. The woman returned her stare with undisguised contempt and, behind the innocence of her soft face and wide, blue eyes, there was something icy and hard. That stare was too direct, those eyes too knowing, and they narrowed as the woman’s gaze turned to Will, malice spoiling the loveliness of her face.

  ‘Who is that woman?’ hissed Morna.

  Will stiffened beside her. ‘That woman is Edana Bain, as was. What she is now, I would not venture to guess.’

  There was bitterness in his voice, or was it jealousy? It was certainly not indifference, which he had once claimed to have for the fate of his lover. To the beat of her thumping heart, Morna turned her back to Wymon and Edana and hissed at Will, ‘Did you arrange this just to humiliate me? Are you going to slither out of bed a
nd go and lie with her in the dead of night?’

  ‘I think Wymon Cranstoun may have something to say about that. It would appear she is his woman now,’ he said, his voice offhand and contemptuous.

  ‘Clearly, that wounds you,’ hissed Morna.

  ‘Not really,’ Will replied. ‘Women are never loyal, it is not in their nature, but I need a show of it now, from you, Morna. The Cranstouns are Bain enemies and therefore, your enemies.’

  ‘You don’t need to tell me that. I was locked in a crate bound for that repulsive man’s pleasure.’

  ‘It seems he may still have ignoble intentions.’

  Morna turned to see Wymon Cranstoun looking her up and down like a sow at market. The path of his eyes felt like a trail of maggots pinching their way along her flesh. Morna shuddered. What an animal the man was, coarse in every way, a bloated, pock-marked face with a slack mouth of broken teeth, hands like meat hooks, a thick neck and the beginnings of a paunch. His eyes were small and porcine and filthy with lust as he regarded her. There was not an ounce of kindness or refinement on that face, and even a generous soul would consider him little better than a beast.

  After lying with Will, how on earth could Edana bear this awful man to touch her? It would be like going from a field of flowers to sinking into a midden.

  ‘Look what the tide washed in,’ said Edana sweetly, the velvet softness of her voice at odds with the spite in her words. ‘T’is no pleasure to see you, Will.’

  ‘Nor I, you. I hoped our paths would never cross again, Edana.’

  Wymon Bain took hold of Edana by the arm, and none too softly. ‘She is my woman now, Bain, so you will stay well clear of her.’

  ‘With pleasure, for I would not soil my hands on her,’ said Will with a complete lack of diplomacy.

  Edana tossed her chin in Morna’s direction. ‘Who is this? Your latest whore?’

  ‘My wife,’ Will replied, with a note of triumph in his voice.

  ‘Looks like you lowered yourself to wed this one, Will, for she looks a little coarse,’ spat Edana.

  ‘On the contrary, I raised myself far higher than I ever hoped in taking this woman as my wife.’

  Morna’s heart soared at his compliment, but his next words brought it crashing back down.

  ‘This here is Morna Buchanan,’ he said proudly. ‘You will have heard of Clan Buchanan of Glencoe?’ He took a step forward. ‘My marriage makes me part Buchanan, and you must be well aware of how they deal with their foes. So you had better change your tone when you address me and my wife, Edana, or I will finish what I started the night Fearchar died.’

  Wymon’s eyes grew wider, and Edana’s mouth fell open. When Morna glanced at Will, his eyes were locked with Edana’s. The very air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Wymon must have sensed the connection between Will and his woman for he pulled Edana away. ‘I will not waste time blathering about nonsense with women. The Lairds of the Isles are gathered inside. Leave your weapons at the door of the kirk and let us get this meeting done.’

  As soon as Wymon had dragged Edana away, Morna shook off Will’s hand. He had made no mention of his affection for her, of her beauty, or his wanting her. All he could do was boast of the alliance she brought him.

  He sighed heavily. ‘I did not know she would be here, and I am sorry for her words. Edana has always been spiteful.’

  ‘And what about your words, Will? Did you have to humiliate me saying we only wed for an alliance.’

  ‘What did you expect, for me to show that I care for you, to show affection before an enemy, to expose my weakness so that they know I have something to lose?’

  ‘Do you have any affection for me or would you prefer to scurry after that poisonous bitch? She’s very lovely, why would you not want her?’

  ‘Morna I have no time for this now. We will have this out later. Go and find Waldrick and get him to put up the tent for the night. I will be hours negotiating inside that kirk, and you will have to amuse yourself until I come back.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Morna sat at the mouth of the tent as the sun rose higher in the sky and watched Waldrick sway drunkenly towards a slovenly redhead stirring a pot of stew. Well into his cups, and reeking of ale, he was not the most appealing of sights, but the woman seemed to welcome his attentions. She held his gaze as she twirled her hair around her fingers and leant over the pot so that her tunic gaped, giving him a glimpse of her full breasts. Morna regarded them with distaste. My goodness, they were thrice the size of her own and gave the slattern the appearance of a cow desperate for milking. Any minute now, the cursed things would spill out into the stew. It would serve her right if they got scalded.

  A poisonous mood had descended on Morna at being abandoned by Will while he went off to talk of men’s matters, leaving her with the dubious companionship of Waldrick. The man was poor company at the best of times as he was always tongue-tied in her presence. There had been a great deal of gruff complaining as he had assembled the tent with haste and then told her he was off in search of ale and a woman in that order.

  Morna was truly amazed he could have found anyone desperate enough to fall for his questionable charms, but even the grubby slattern flirting with him had someone who wanted her. In contrast, she was alone, with no one to warm her bed or tell her she was bonnie. As to her husband, one minute he was all smouldering desire and the next, teasing and offhand towards her. It could not continue. If her worst nightmare had come true, and she was trapped in a loveless marriage, at least knowing the truth, she could guard her heart. She determined to have it out with Will once and for all when he came back.

  A shadow crossed her face. ‘Abandoned you already, has he?’

  Morna looked up into the golden visage of Edana Bain. The woman had sought her out for a purpose, so she stood up wearily to hear what it was.

  ‘My, what a fierce scowl you have, Morna Buchanan. It would seem you and Will are well-matched in temper. Oh, don’t glower at me like that girl, for I have come to sympathise on your nuptials. To be married to such a one…’ She shook her head in disapproval and trailed off, obviously expecting Morna to rise to the bait. When she did not, Edana continued. ‘I must say you are not the usual type of woman he goes for.’

  ‘And what type is that?’ said Morna calmly.

  ‘The type that looks like me. Will has a fondness for a blonde lass, he has always said the innocent-looking ones are more satisfying to corrupt.’ She looked Morna up and down contemptuously. ‘I suppose you are comely, in a dark sort of way, the kind of woman a man bends over a tavern table, ploughs and then forgets. But marriage now! I was surprised at my Will doing that, though I hear tell that this union is more with the Clan Buchanan than it is with you. Am I right?’

  If Edana expected anger or humiliation, Morna was determined to deny her.

  ‘Whatever the arrangement, Edana, we are both content with it. You have had my husband in the past so you would understand my contentment only too well, would you not? I must say Will does perform his marriage duties most diligently, be it bent over a tavern table or otherwise. Why, I scarce get any sleep these days.’

  Morna smirked at Edana whose face changed from gloating to glowering in an instant. She pressed home her advantage. ‘I am sure you understand my happiness having found your own particular kind with Laird Cranstoun. What an unbridled joy it must be pressed under such a one as your man, night after night. Next time you are, close your eyes and think about Will and the fact I can have him any time I want, and I don’t have to grit my teeth every time he goes inside me, or swallow my revulsion, as you do with Wymon.’

  ‘You think I still want your low-born cur of a man. He came to Fitheach with nothing, stinking and in rags. He slept with the animals and was little better than one.’

  ‘Why did you lie with him then?’ snapped Morna.

  ‘I was bored, and Will was lusty and pursued me endlessly. ‘T’was hard work teaching him to please me and not worth it in the end,
for he was a terrible lover. He spent his lust too quickly and never learnt any new tricks. Such a dull dog.’

  ‘He despises you. We both know it, Edana, so go away for you are boring me as you bored Will.’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’ she laughed, a tinkling, girlish sound from a mouth rank with cruelty. ‘I spurned him. That is why he killed my brave Fearchar – to get revenge on me. I am well rid of Will, though he will no doubt come back to me with one click of my fingers.’ She smirked and snapped her fingers right in Morna’s face. ‘Shame he can’t do himself any more given his mangled hand. I saw it happen you know, Fearchar cutting his fingers off.’

  Pain bloomed in Morna’s chest at the thought of Will, alone, suffering, fighting for his life. He always hid his hand as if it was shameful, and this woman had no pity for him.

  ‘You need to stop talking now,’ said Morna as she was taken by white-hot rage.

  ‘Horrible it was, the crunching sound, as Fearchar’s blade cut in and, oh, the look on Will’s face, such surprise.’ Edana laughed again. ‘Shame it was only his worthless fingers being separated from his body and not his neck. Fearchar should have killed him and thrown him back in with the pigs for them to eat. It is where he belongs, in the filth, because that is what he is.’

  Morna’s good sense snapped, and she slapped Edana hard across the face, wiping the smile from it. The woman staggered back in shock.

  ‘If you don’t shut your mouth, I must shut it for you,’ snarled Morna, balling her hands into fists.

  ‘Oh, you’ve done it now, bitch. I will kill you,’ said Edana launching herself at Morna.

  They fell back into the mud, Edana tearing at Morna’s hair and face in a frenzy. Her peasant roots soon became evident, for, behind the blonde, delicate looks, she was surprisingly strong. Her fingers went for Morna’s eyes to gouge them, but Morna managed to turn aside just in time, and Edana’s nails ripped into her neck instead.

  Morna grabbed a handful of blonde hair and tore it out by the roots and was rewarded with a howl of pain from her adversary. Over and over they rolled and slapped, Edana shrieking and cursing like a banshee the whole time. The mud started to suck at Morna’s skirt and boots, and every time one of them tried to stand, they would fall back down.