Highlander’s Lesser Evil: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Highlands' Deceptive Lovers Book 4)

by Adamina Young

  The young window’s eyes widened. “What? No! Fletcher ordered him to stay away from Loch Moran. He is supposed to be visiting Sinclair lands, searching for a bride.”

  Perhaps Graeme thought it might be easiest if he took a bride who had already been purchased, Gemma thought grimly. But why go through the charade of fabricating a missive from Fletcher?

  “I don’t think I can keep you hidden for long. Any MacSeaver who steps foot on this land tends to spread panic, and several people would have seen and recognized you by now. It won’t take long for Graeme to find out. You need to tell me the truth. Do you think Graeme would try and drag you back to MacSeaver’s lands?”

  “I doonae know.” As she twisted her fingers unhappily, fear shone in her eyes. “He doesnae like me vera much, but he usually ignores me. I have no idea what goes on in that head of his.”

  “He isnae laird yet, which means he cannae order ye to go home, and he wilnae drag you out, even if Theo doesnae grant ye sanctuary.” Gemma pushed her shoulders back resolutely. “Ye were my friend when I needed one the most, so I will help ye. Ye can count on it.”

  But first, she would need to woo her husband to her side.

  “Distract me,” Jillian pleaded. “Tell me of what has happened in Loch Moran since I have left and what Theo is like as a laird.”

  “Overbearing, rude, irritating,” Gemma murmured, but then she smiled. “He is also protective and kind. He values Loch Moran for the resources and seems to understand that it is nothing without the people. He barely sleeps; he is so busy getting to know the people and readying the guards for when some fool clan decides to attack.”

  Jillian smiled. “Ye respect him.”

  “As a laird, yes. I only have Fletcher to compare, so anyone would seem impressive. As a husband, I mostly want to throttle him. He issues orders without thought and expects me to obey. And…” She wanted to tell her friend about her mixed feelings about having Theo in her bed. About how she craved him and how she feared the influence the man had over her body, but Jillian never spoke of her own marriage and rarely spoke of her dead husband. The last thing Gemma wanted to do was uncover old wounds.

  Besides, this was her personal business, and she would deal with it.

  “And?” Jillian prompted.

  “And I need a break thinking of my husband,” Gemma laughed. “Come, let us find Elizabeth. She missed you so much after you were gone, and she’ll be excited to see you again.”

  Taking her friend’s hand, she pulled her to her feet and vowed that she would do whatever it took to bring the light back to her eyes.

  10

  Theo was furious. His wife had disrespected him and blatantly disregarded his authority in front of his men, and for that reason, he’d walked away. He didn’t trust himself not to do something rash, which would have been so natural of his father, and so he pushed the men a little too hard during the training session. When he returned to the cottage, it was midafternoon, and Gemma was calmly sitting at her loom.

  Alone.

  Sweaty, filthy, and still in ill-temper, Theo narrowed his eyes. “Where is our guest?” he hissed.

  “That would be my guest,” Gemma said calmly. “I had a feeling that you might be a bear about things, so she is staying elsewhere for the night until you and I come to an understanding.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “Ye most certainly need to understand a few things about being my wife.”

  Turning to face him, she immediately wrinkled her nose. “But first, you need a bath. I’ll draw some water from the well if you want to start the fire to heat it.”

  They worked quietly as they set her tub in the cottage. Theo didn’t bother with modesty as he stripped and sank into the warm water. There was a time when he hesitated getting naked in front of others. When he was old enough to bed a woman, some had recoiled at his body’s sight. Most ignored it, caring more that he might be laird than what he looked like beneath his clothes.

  Shedding in front of other men had been difficult as well. When on patrol with his men, they would often bathe in the river together, and he feared his scars would show weakness. By that point, it had been years since his father had taken a whip to him. He only brutalized those who couldn’t fight back, but it was still a reminder that he’d been weak.

  Now, it was just part of who he was. His brother had seen his scars, and it was only a matter of time before Gemma did as well.

  Meeting her gaze, he arched an eyebrow when he saw the blatant desire there. She wasn’t surprised by the scars, nor was there any pity. Instead, she seemed to see him as whole. It affected him more than he wanted to admit, but he kept himself in check.

  Last night, she’d seemed terrified of his touch, but her face today told a different story. He would not pounce until he understood the reason why.

  “Ye are welcome to join me, Wife.”

  Hastily, she averted her gaze. “No, I think we have more pressing issues than our pleasure, but I am not certain it’s appropriate to discuss Lady Jillian while you are bathing.”

  True. The last thing he wanted to talk about was another woman while he was naked with his wife, even if she wasn’t naked. “All right, then let’s talk about something more appropriate to the situation, like what happened last night.”

  Her cheeks reddened, and she started to turn her whole body away from him before she thought better of it. Pushing her shoulders back, she faced him. He adored the boldness in her.

  “Very well. I should have thanked you for showing me more about the pleasure between a man and a woman. I was remiss, and for that, I apologize. And I thank you. It was an eye-opening experience, and I enjoyed it.”

  “Yet ye ran from me and cried yerself to sleep.” His gut knotted at the memory. The last thing he wanted to do was cause his wife pain.

  “And how would you know that?” she shot back. “When you couldn’t even be bothered to come to bed and hold me.”

  Lazily, he grabbed the cloth and soap and started scrubbing down his arms and chest. “Ye seemed to need some space,” he said calmly. “And I was about to retire to bed for a few hours when my guards alerted me of Jillian’s appearance. I did not wish to wake ye.”

  “You have not gotten a full night of sleep since we were wed,” she accused softly.

  “‘Tis not ye. I rarely sleep through the night.” Sometimes his father would succumb to a drunken rage in the early hours of the morning and barge into his room. It didn’t matter if Theo was to blame or had nothing to do with whatever made him mad; it was Theo who caught the brute end of Patrick’s anger.

  Theo learned quickly to spend as little time as possible where his father might find him. He snuck away to empty guest wings, slept with sympathetic friends and servants. Once, he had tried to stay in his mother’s room, but she had simply handed him over to his father.

  “Well, my tears were not for you last night.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “So they were for yerself? Have ye come to regret yer decision?” Pausing his wash, he held his breath and realized that the answer meant more to him than he wanted to admit.

  “No, of course not, although there is something odd about that letter. Jillian claims that Fletcher does not remember me and would never have sent for me.”

  Since he already knew that, he stayed quiet. She started to pace, attempting to work out the puzzle. “Graeme is supposed to be hunting for a bride. I suppose it is possible that he decided one that had already been purchased would be an easy enough mark, but why the subterfuge? What was the plan? Escort me off Loch Moran and then marry me? What would be the point?”

  “If that were the case, I would imagine he thought no one would protect ye once ye were off Loch Moran, and ye would agree to wed him.”

  “Graeme is handsome and set to be the ruler of his clan. He has no need to force anyone to marry him. I simply don’t think he would go to such lengths for an unwilling bride.”

  Theo didn’t like hearing that Gemma thought Graeme was handsome.
Clearing his throat, he held out the soap. “Would ye wash my back, please?”

  She hesitated for a moment but took the soap and walked around behind him. If she noticed his erection beneath the water, she didn’t say anything.

  Just the thought of her was enough to arouse his desire. He’d never been with such a woman before.

  “Does it matter?” he asked quietly as the cloth ran gently over his back. “Ye didnae agree to wed me because of Fletcher’s threat anyway. Ye agreed to wed me to build a bridge between the MacDougals and the people of Loch Moran.”

  Her hands paused, and for a moment, he feared that she would figure out what had happened. Would she regret her decision if she learned she’d been tricked into it?

  The washing continued in silence, and the air thickened around them. “The tub is big enough for two,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

  “True, but the water is filthy from you.” Her voice shook just a little, but he heard the smile and relaxed. “I was afraid last night.”

  “Afraid of me?”

  “No. Of all the things that scare me, Theo MacDougal, you are not one of them. I hadn’t realized how vulnerable I would be during a moment like that.”

  “You arenae scared of me, but ye doonae want to be vulnerable around me?”

  The cloth moved up to his neck, and he relished in the sensations, not just of the warm water cleaning him but the idea that she was touching him. “This is the first time I have ever been fully naked around a lass,” he said thickly.

  The cloth fell from him, and Gemma moved around to kneel by the tub next to him.

  “The scars,” she said carefully.

  “Aye, the scars.” It appeared that he didn’t need to tell her how he’d gotten them. His father did little to hide the abuse of his boy.

  Seeing a faint pink scar running from his shoulder to his chest, she traced it with her fingers, and his stomach twisted. “This one looks new.”

  “Aye. Some didnae approve of me taking over for my father. There were quite a few challenges, especially when I made changes in the guard.”

  Gemma’s eyes widened in horror. “They were out to kill ye.”

  “Gemma, ye should know that my father isnae sick.”

  “What?” The implications slammed into her, and she straightened, taking a step back. “I thought he was on his deathbed. That is why the king granted you permission to take over.”

  “The king granted me permission to overthrow my father when I came to him with evidence that my people were suffering. I had a plan to help, and Loch Moran is part of that plan. These people are as precious to me as the land itself.”

  “You mean that?” she whispered. Admiration replaced the confusion, and the knot in his chest loosened. She would not run from him knowing that he’d imprisoned his own father.

  “I do. I know people fear that I will be like my father, and in some ways, I fear it myself, but I will fight that battle with every breath, and ‘tis because of that I wilnae risk raising a child. The scars remind me of the blood flowing through me.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” she said fiercely. “I believe there is good in you. I would not have not married you otherwise.”

  She was too sweet for the likes of him. “It is also because of these scars that I am reminded of how far people will go for power. ‘Tis why I am wary of yer friend being here. She is close to a man who might want his land back.”

  “Jillian is not close to her father-in-law, and I believe her when she says that Fletcher has no interest in this land or anything, really. I know she appeared to be friends with Beth, but the truth is far from it. Jillian has been isolated and alone, and Beth took advantage of that. My friend has done nothing treacherous. If she had, the king would not have released her.”

  “Gemma,” he said patiently, “ye just said that she was weak. Fletcher could be using her.”

  She drew back and glared at him. “Isolated and alone does not mean weak, Theo. You of all people should know that, or did you have a huge following when you overthrew your father?”

  She had a point. “She can stay here for now, as yer guest. If someone comes looking for her, then we will talk about granting her sanctuary, but I wilnae allow correspondence while she is here. And Gemma, when I mean here, I mean on this land. Find another home for her. This place is already small enough.”

  A beautiful smile brightened her face, and he shuddered inwardly under the weight of it. She had no idea how much power that smile wielded. He still wasn’t confident that Jillian wasn’t another spy, but at least he had done something to make his wife happy.

  “Does Graeme know that she is here?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, but I know that she has no wish to see him. Apparently he, like the other MacSeavers, hates her.”

  “Ye know why they hate her, do ye not?”

  “Because she wasn’t born a MacSeaver?”

  “Nay, lass. They blame her for her husband’s death.”

  11

  Gemma had made a roast for the guards that night and was spending the evening with the neighbors, glued to Jillian’s side during the communal dinner. Theo kept a close eye on them from a distance while he updated his guards about the new restrictions for messages going in and out of Loch Moran.

  An angry figure stormed his way and stopped short. “Is it true?” Graeme demanded. “Have ye given Jillian MacSeaver sanctuary?”

  Not wanting to have the conversation near curious ears, he drew Graeme away closer to the loch. “Nay,” he said calmly. “I havenae given her sanctuary. She is here to visit a friend, and while she is here, she will have the hospitality and protection of the MacDougal clan.”

  Graeme’s face only darkened. “And who, pray tell, is she friends with here?”

  “My wife.”

  That drew Graeme up short. “The English lass? Really?”

  The English lass? “She is my wife now, and ye will show her some respect!”

  Graeme reddened and nodded. “My apologies. I was just taken aback. I had no idea that Jillian would have anything in common with Gemma.”

  “Ye really doonae know, do ye?”

  “Know what?”

  “Fletcher MacSeaver purchased Gemma to be his wife. He stowed her here at Loch Moran, apparently sobered up, and promptly forgot about her. That was a year ago, shortly before he married Beth.”

  To his credit, Graeme looked thunderstruck before he scowled. “My laird is not the most sensible when it comes to women,” he said wryly and ran his hands through his hair. “No wonder she seemed wary of me. If I had put her mind at ease...”

  “She would be yers?”

  Graeme shrugged. “She is a bonnie lass; ye cannae blame me. But she is yers now. What does that have to do with Jillian?”

  “Beth dragged Jillian around everywhere, and in one of the visits here, she befriended Gemma. My wife seems to be fiercely loyal to those she loves, and she believes the lass wilnae betray us to Fletcher.”

  Graeme snorted. “Betray ye to Fletcher? She hates the old man. Her work would only be against MacSeavers. I am convinced that she knew of Beth’s treachery and planned to use us all to bring the MacSeavers down. If she had her way, there would be no clan standing. The king would have had no choice but to amass an army to obliterate us.”

  There was so much anger on his face. Theo knew only of rumors, but he hadn’t put that much stock in them. After all, a beautiful but mysterious woman often started hushed whispers that grew to tall tales after awhile. Still, there was something that Jillian seemed to be hiding.

  “Ye truly believed that she murdered yer cousin?”

  Graeme looked at him sharply. “Where did ye hear that?”

  “‘Tis no secret, Graeme. Yer uncle’s tantrum after his son died reached the ears of many, although none know the specifics.”

  “No one knows the specifics,” Graeme said unhappily. “Gentry was my friend, and he would have made a fine laird. I know he lov
ed Jillian to distraction, and I fear it was his downfall. I thought for certain that Fletcher would exile her, but instead, he protected her. I fear he wanted her and hoped to seduce her. Bloody hell, for all I know, she was already in his bed, and this is a lover’s spat. I would like a word with her while she is here.”

  “I cannae stop ye from talking to her, but if ye harm or threaten her, ye will have to answer to me.” Theo didn’t like the idea that Fletcher’s lover was here, but he’d made a promise to Gemma, and without proof, he would not act.

  “I want to know what she is doing here.”

  “Aye.” Theo nodded calmly. “And I would like to know what ye are doing here. Jillian says that ye are supposed to be wife hunting on Sinclair lands. If ye are lost, allow me to inform ye that these arenae Sinclair lands.”

  Graeme’s hand settled on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes grew wary. “I know exactly where I am,” he said in a stilted voice. “I am here to check on the people.”

  “I doonae think ye are, so I will warn ye once again not to cross me, Graeme. Yer time of coming and going freely without my leave is swiftly coming to an end. Thus far, ye have no evidence that these people are in danger from me. If ye are looking for a weakness...”

  “Ye will be the first to know,” Graeme said as he relaxed. Nodding, he walked away, and Theo gritted his teeth.

  Graeme would never have told him of any weakness. No, he would simply take advantage.

  That night, Theo found himself waiting on Gemma. He spent most of the time studying the looms. She’d put a bit more work into them, and he was starting to see a landscape: the Highlands, no doubt. There was nothing in England that could be that green and lush.

  The candles were burning low when the door opened, and she finally bustled in, her cloak swirling around her and laughter still in her eyes. Her cheeks were red, but he wasn’t sure whether it was from the wine or the cold.