The Sinclair Jewels Books One-Three: A Scottish Medieval Romance Series Bundle

by Caroline Lee

  “And lover?” she prompted, surprised she wasn’t shy about the question. She knew he’d enjoyed himself as much as she had.

  “Aye,” he drawled, his hands cupping her arse. “The best I’ve had in years.”

  “I’m the only lover ye’ve—”

  She cut off the indignant rebuttal with a gasp as he rolled with lightning speed, flipping her over on her back until he was the one grinning above her.

  “Aye, a fine lover, indeed, Saf.” He brushed a kiss against her lips, but before she could deepen it, pulled back. “And seeing yer boldness, yer intelligence, and yer wise counsel today…I realized ye’d make a fine Lady Sutherland, as well.”

  She only had time to suck in a shocked breath before he continued.

  “I didnae ken yer family name or why ye were in my home. But I kenned enough about ye to understand that, at least. I couldnae marry ye, no’ without kenning the rest, but…”

  But now that he did know? “But?” she prompted.

  He kissed her again, as gently as a butterfly brushing against her skin. When he pulled back, his expression was…nervous?

  “I made a contract once already with yer father, Saf. The alliance would be good for both of us, and he’s proven amenable to having me as a son-in-law.”

  She stopped breathing.

  “Aye,” she croaked in agreement. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

  He held her gaze. “I want ye by my side, Saf. If I asked him, do ye think he’d agree to a marriage contract with yer name on it?”

  She exhaled.

  “Are ye sure he’s the one ye want to ask that question?”

  “Will ye marry me, Saf? Be my lady? Bear my heirs?”

  As her heart leapt with joy, she pursed her lips and hummed.

  “I donnae ken. I’m a loyal squire, ye understand. I’ll have to ask my master if he’d agree—What are ye doing?” she asked with a yelp as he rolled to his feet in one movement, tossing her over his shoulder as he did so.

  He stooped to grab her clothes before heading for the well-trained horse who’d been waiting silently nearby. She gave another yelp when he bounced her once before tossing her onto the saddle and handing her the linen shirt.

  She pulled it over her head and emerged to find him still grinning up at her, naked as the day he was born, his erection proudly jutting from its nest of wiry curls.

  “I’m taking ye back to my chambers, squire, where ye’ll learn to put that clever mouth of yers to work convincing me.”

  “Convincing ye?” she demanded indignantly, trying to figure out how to pull on her breeches while seated atop a horse.

  He was outright chuckling as he wrapped his kilt and belted it, then jammed on his boots, and swung up behind her. One arm wrapped around her, resting protectively on her stomach, his fingers just brushing the underside of her breasts.

  “Aye, lass,” he growled in her ear, sending shivers through her. “I’ll make ye beg.”

  And as he kicked his horse into motion, Saf gave up caring about her modesty. Laughing, she tossed her breeches into the blurred bushes as they rushed past, and when he joined in, she felt his joy in her very soul.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Laird! Merrick!”

  Merrick woke slowly, which was unusual, but likely due to the woman in his arms.

  How long had it been since he’d woken this way? He and Katharine had shared a bed, aye, but Anna was the last he’d held this way. And his feelings for Saf…

  Well, he wasn’t sure yet. He’d loved Anna, but Saf made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in years. And not just because she matched him in bed, but her wit, her joy, her—

  “Merrick! Open up!”

  Ah, that’s what had woken him—the pounding on the door. Funny, it sounded like Gavin’s voice, but the man was still in the healer’s chamber, unable to remain awake long enough to account for his piss-poor decisions.

  Slowly, Merrick moved out from under Saf. She murmured sleepily and moaned as she rolled off him.

  “Who is it?” she asked hoarsely, and he smiled at how exhausted she sounded.

  They’d returned from the waterfall with his kilt askew and her half-naked in his arms, but it didn’t matter. He’d called for Corra to send supper to his chambers, then marched right past his chuckling and cheering clan to carry Saf up the stairs. Even Mary stood, grinning happily, little Isobel in her arms.

  Merrick had tossed Saf on his bed, where she’d rolled to her stomach. The sight of that bare arse in the air had been more than his control—finally relinquished after so many years!—could stand. He pulled her up to her knees, pressed her shoulders into the mattress, and showed her a few new positions which she—apparently—had found quite satisfactory.

  Aye, it had been a long and glorious night, and who in the hell thought it was aright to wake them with the stars still high in the dark sky?

  “Merrick! Please!”

  The pounding was beginning to sound desperate by the time Merrick untangled himself from the coverlets and Saf.

  She was sitting up in bed now, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  It was her interrupted sleep more than his own which sent Merrick stomping nude to the door in a foul temper. He’d just begun to build a future with this woman, and now someone had the bollocks to bother them?

  He yanked open the door just as another round of frantic knocking began, and was surprised to see Gavin standing there, fist raised, his other hand locked around the wrist of…

  “Elana?” Merrick frowned, his gaze going back to his friend, whose expression was a mix of terror and relief.

  “Merrick, thank God,” Gavin muttered with relief, pushing past him to tug his younger sister into the room.

  Elana was carrying a lit taper, and as she passed Merrick, he sucked in a surprised breath. The lass was wearing naught but a torn chemise and was covered in filth. Not only that, her face and arms showed bruises and cuts as if…as if a man had used his fists to beat her.

  The pair halted in the middle of the room, Gavin’s frantic gaze searching the corners as if for danger, not even lingering on Saf, who’d pulled the coverlet up around her shoulders.

  Merrick’s eyes narrowed as he slammed the door and stalked toward the man whom he’d always trusted.

  “What in the hell is going on, Gavin? Why aren’t ye unconscious?”

  “I’m—I’m sorry.” The other man shook his head, the light from his sister’s candle catching the healed scar on his forehead. “I truly am, Merrick,” he said hoarsely.

  It was the guilt in his friend’s eyes, more than anything, which made Merrick realize the truth. Gavin hadn’t been in and out of consciousness for the last sennight. The reason the healer couldn’t determine what was wrong with him was because there wasn’t aught wrong.

  Gavin had been pretending for days, to avoid having to answer for his failures.

  With a growl, Merrick spun away from the two of them to scoop up his kilt. He recalled Saf tearing it from his body last night, but he couldn’t let himself focus on that memory. Not if he wanted to get to the bottom of this midnight intrusion.

  “What have ye done, Gavin?” he asked as he belted the material around his waist. “Why are ye here?”

  His friend swallowed and met his eyes, nodding once. “Aye, Laird. I…” He exhaled, and tugged his sister to him.

  Elana wrapped her arms around her brother and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Thank ye, Gav,” she said in a choked whisper.

  “Aye, lass.” Gavin sounded equally sad as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and Merrick’s stomach clenched in dread.

  Gently, Gavin pulled his sister’s arms from around his waist, and pushed her toward Saf, who’d wrapped the coverlet around herself and was now climbing out of the bed to light more tapers. “Go on, Elana. Remember what ye need to tell them, after ’tis done. I love ye.”

  “Nay, Gav!” she cried, her voice breaking on a sob. “Nay!” But she stumbled
into Saf’s arms.

  Saf caught the poor girl and looked to Merrick for guidance, but his friend’s fear had infected the laird as well.

  “Gavin?” he growled.

  That’s when his second-in-command and the man he trusted most in the world, drew his sword and brandished it before him.

  Merrick had just enough time to curse himself a fool—why in damnation had he opened the door without a weapon—when Gavin surprised him again. The man sunk to his knees in front of Merrick, holding his weapon up as an offering.

  Merrick caught his breath, but before he could ask again what was going on, his friend spoke.

  “Laird, I’m the traitor. I’ve been planting false trails for your scouts to follow, leading them away from Lindsay’s men. I led our men into that ambush.”

  Rage, white-hot and near-blinding, tore through Merrick.

  Gavin! He trusted him and had been betrayed? And it wasn’t just that his second had delayed Lindsay’s reckoning, it was…

  “Saf was wounded in that battle, you son-of-a-bitch!”

  Gavin said nothing, but met his gaze with a look of acceptance and sorrow.

  With a roar and a burning need for swift action and decisive justice, Merrick snatched the offered sword out of his once-friend’s hands. Gavin lowered his arms with a faint sigh, and bent his head forward, prepared to accept the undeserved, quick death.

  Ignoring Elana’s cry of “Gavin, nay!” Merrick lifted the man’s own sword to deliver that swift justice.

  And would’ve struck the blow, killing the man who’d once been his friend, had Saf not stopped him.

  She appeared so suddenly, standing between him and the kneeling Gavin, that Merrick nearly wrenched his shoulder halting his swing in time.

  “Devil!” she cried, one arm holding the coverlet to her, the other raised in a plea.

  “Saf, get out of the way,” he growled, the sword still raised.

  “Nay, Devil, no’ yet. Ye said ye trusted me! Ye said we made a good team.”

  She was making this harder than Merrick could stand. He shook his head, grief and regret churning his stomach. “Ye heard him, Saf! He confessed like this because he kenned I would give him a swift death. For betraying his clan and his laird this way, it’s the best he can pray for!”

  By the bed, Elana let loose a sob, but Gavin said naught. Behind Saf, he planted one fist on the wooden floorboards and leaned forward even further, as if welcoming the blow which would remove his head.

  “Merrick,” Saf said softer, stepping toward the laird. “He’s yer friend.”

  “And Robbie was my brother!”

  The words—full of anger and regret and sorrow—were torn from him before he could swallow them back. Robbie had betrayed him, betrayed them all, with his crimes against morality. And now his best friend, whom Merrick had worried about and prayed for, had betrayed the clan.

  But Saf understood. With another step, she closed the distance between them, and placed her hand on his chest. “Will ye no’ at least hear his reasons?”

  It was as if her touch had some sort of magic—and mayhap it did. The rage began to drain from him, coalescing in his chest, right under her hand, and seeping out. His shoulders drooped, and the sword drifted down until it was level with his waist.

  “Saf,” he whispered, not sure if he liked the way she robbed him of his desire for swift justice.

  “Devil, hear him out, aye?”

  “And then?” he murmured.

  “At least ye’ll ken ye have all the information ye need afore making a decision.”

  She stared up at him. He saw trust and approval there.

  Merrick’s sigh was half-hearted as he shook his head. “Gavin? My squire has bought ye a few moments to explain.”

  Saf moved out of the way, and Gavin lifted his head. He seemed hesitant, as if unsure what to make of this unaccustomed delay.

  “He…” Gavin cleared his throat and straightened from where he leaned against the floor. “He took her, Laird.”

  “Elana?”

  Merrick’s gaze darted to where the lass stood, one arm wrapped around her middle, tears streaming down her battered face.

  “Aye,” Gavin croaked. “Lindsay found her on the road, on her way south weeks ago. He…he took her, and got word to me.”

  Merrick didn’t think he could hate his half-brother more than he did already. He was wrong.

  “What did he say to ye?”

  Slowly, Gavin climbed to his feet, his movements heavy with dread. “He kenned my position, Laird. He said if I didnae do my best to lead ye astray, to protect his men, he’d…” Gavin cut himself off with a noise which might’ve been a sob, might’ve been a growl, but he nodded toward his sister’s condition.

  Without letting his expression betray his emotions, Merrick silently cursed John Lindsay. The man had robbed his people, destroyed their livelihoods, and now stolen the honor of a good man.

  “Was it worth it?” he managed to ask.

  His friend, the man he’d trusted, pulled himself to his full height. “To save my sister’s life? Aye,” he said hoarsely. “I’m yer traitor, Merrick.” He shook his head, glanced at his sister, then met Merrick’s eyes once more. Gavin spread his arms, hands out. “Elana is watching, Laird. I beg ye to make it quick.”

  He could dispense justice, aye. But striking down his best friend who was begging for swift mercy? Gavin deserved to die, but his actions had been understandable.

  Saf was wrong; finding out all the information had made this decision harder.

  “Wait, milord!”

  Merrick was saved from making an immediate choice by Elana’s outburst. Although Saf tried to stop her, the lass wove her way to her brother’s side.

  “Elana, nay.” Gavin dropped his submissive pose to push her away. “Keep back.”

  But his sister either didn’t care about her safety, or believed Merrick wouldn’t strike, because she ducked from her brother’s hold and moved to stand before him. The light from her candle illuminated the bruises and blood on her face in chilling detail.

  “Laird, he’s coming here, tonight.”

  Merrick’s full attention snapped to the girl. “Who?” he barked.

  “Lindsay. He’s planning to attack tonight. I was supposed to tell ye—” She choked back a sob. “After ye executed Gav, it was my job to make sure ye were warned.”

  Merrick’s throat went dry, and he exchanged a glance with Saf. Gavin had been his second for years. The man knew how he thought. Gavin had come here tonight fully expecting to die for his actions, without even having the chance to explain. So, he’d prepared his wee sister with the knowledge the Sutherlands needed, to ensure the laird would receive it after his death.

  Gavin had been loyal, even going to his death.

  “Tell me,” Merrick commanded.

  So, Gavin explained how Lindsay had made contact originally, messages delivered through a whore in the village, and how he’d received another one that afternoon. He’d been play-acting in the healer’s room, frantic with worry over his sister, and wracked with guilt over what he had to do. He’d snuck out and met with Lindsay and his men, who were camped near one of their first attack sites.

  “Ye mean,” Merrick growled, “when ye led us up the valley, away from the cairn?”

  “Aye, that one. He’d brought me Elana’s gown, so I kenned he had her. I kenned what he was capable of, Merrick…”

  Merrick shook his head, not ready to attempt to understand his feelings on the subject. “Tonight,” he snapped in reminder.

  “Lindsay had Elana with him tonight. She looked…” Gavin nodded to his sister, who was still silently crying. “I shouldnae have been surprised a bastard like him would break his oath, but I damn near strangled him. I told him I would no longer be his lapdog, and he laughed,” Gavin spit out. “The man is half-crazed with greed, Laird. He plans to attack tonight, like a snake, and after he threw Elana to me, he suggested I hide.”

  But Gavin hadn
’t. Instead, he’d dragged his sister here to face Merrick, knowing it would mean his death.

  It was Saf who asked the important question. “When?”

  “The guard change, likely,” Gavin supplied. “Lindsay didnae say, but that would make the most sense. His forces match ours, and surprise is on their side. I found Andrew in the great hall and sent him to rouse what warriors he could from the barracks. They’ll fight well for ye, Laird. I trained them.”

  Merrick cursed, his thoughts going in too many directions at once. Anticipation for the coming battle coursed through him as shouts and the sound of steel-on-steel drifted up from the courtyard. Fear for Saf and the bairns mixed with excitement at finally confronting his half-brother.

  And Gavin? He was wavering between rage at his friends’ betrayal, grief at the man’s choice, and awe that the warrior had chosen death over another betrayal. He’d come back to warn them all, even knowing it would mean his head.

  His decision made, Merrick darted forward to grab Gavin by the back of the neck. The man moved to guard himself, but halted abruptly as if remembering his choice to submit himself.

  Merrick froze, the tip of his blade pressed against his friend’s stomach, slicing open the skin but going no further. With his grip on Gavin’s neck, it would be a simple matter of pulling the man forward as he thrust it into his gut.

  It would not be a clean, nor easy death.

  He stared into the eyes of the man he’d trusted.

  “If I let ye live, Gavin, will ye betray me again?”

  “If ye let me live, Laird,” the warrior growled, “I swear I’ll spend the rest of my miserable life hunting down that bastard. I’ll plant my blade in him, for what he did to Elana.”

  It was as good a vow as Merrick could expect.

  With a swift move, he pushed his second away from him. The man stumbled back, but when Merrick tossed him his sword, managed to catch it.

  Ignoring Gavin’s confused expression, Merrick whirled to pick up his own sword. “Donae let me regret this decision.”