Her blood charged in her veins at his words.
She’d heard of King David’s return to Scotland after his exile in France. He’d been there so long that she couldn’t remember a time when he had been on Scottish soil. She’d also heard of his determination to take back what belonged to them.
And she could be part of that army.
How long had she wished to exact vengeance on the English for their betrayal of herself and her family after their English father was slain in combat? How often had she lain awake in the manor, craving something more out of their quiet life?
This would be the ideal opportunity. The decision ought to be easy.
She glanced to where Clara sifted through several bolts of fabric with a careful hand.
Could Kinsey leave her family? Especially with their brother, Drake, already working for an earl on the wrong side of the border, and Faye being so far away?
And yet how could she not fight for Scotland after so many injustices?
William MacLeod had spied the fiery lass from across the market. What man would not?
Hair like fire, sapphire blue eyes that sparkled with a challenge, high firm breasts…aye, he’d have noticed her anywhere. But then she’d brought out that bow, quick as a snake’s strike, and expertly pinned the arrows into the ground right before the man’s feet.
That was the kind of archer William needed in his command.
A bonny lass to warm his bed would be an added benefit.
And yet she appeared hesitant.
“If ye join my men and me in our efforts to regain Scottish land from England, I’ll, of course, pay ye.” He winked at her.
She frowned slightly, almost appearing as though she found his charm off-putting. Strange.
Her fine lips pursed with shrewdness. “If ye pay me to do the job of a man, I’ll take the wage of one.”
There was something in the way she spoke that made her sound English. The Scottish burr was there, yes, but her words were less lyrical, crisper. He’d bet his life that she had mixed blood running through her veins, which meant neither country had likely been kind to her. He could use that to his advantage.
He considered what she’d said. While most men might balk at such a brazen demand, William found the logic of her request sound. “Consider it done. The pay of a man for the work of a man.”
“And I want armor.” She glanced behind him, where his men stood in their chainmail.
“Of course.”
Her eyes narrowed with a look of cautious intensity. “How do I know I can trust ye?”
He studied her, taking in the blue linen kirtle hugging her well-curved frame. The garment was fine enough, but not grand. Certainly, it was absent fraying hems or worn spots. Which meant she was not poor, but nor was she rich.
Her bow and arrow were of better quality, mayhap the best he’d seen on the borderlands.
She wasn’t unfounded in her lack of trust, especially on the border between England and Scotland, where treachery was prevalent, and reivers left everyone on edge.
She flicked her attention to where her lovely dark-haired companion pulled a bolt of fabric from a stack and handed it to the merchant with a generous smile.
William was running out of time.
“My father is Laird of the MacLeod clan on Skye.” He indicated his family crest on the hilt of his blade, the bull’s head expertly carved into the gold.
“And ye’re his heir?” The weight of her assessment settled over him.
William squared his shoulders. “Why would I no’ be?”
In his father’s eyes, there was one primary reason—disappointment. It had started early on when William was a boy. The knowledge that nothing he ever did was good enough to satisfy his father. After a time, William gave up trying.
He’d stopped caring. Or so he told himself. But with his father now threatening to name someone else as his heir for the lairdship, he had no choice.
This was his one opportunity to prove his worth by assisting King David in reclaiming Scottish land. And William would stop at nothing to ensure he succeeded.
“I must go.” The lass said abruptly.
“Can I no’ get an answer from ye?” he pressed. “What’s yer name?”
She smirked. “If I decide to join ye, I’ll give it then.”
“We leave at dawn tomorrow.” A sense of urgency always helped spur prompt decisions. “Meet us by the inn.”
Except she didn’t take the bait. She lifted a shoulder with a maddening air of indifference. “I may be there. I may not.”
She began to turn away, and he knew she would be lost if he didn’t press his cause.
“Have ye or yer loved ones no’ ever suffered at the hands of the English?” he asked.
She slowly looked back at him, and he knew his gut had been right.
“Ye’ve no idea,” she ground out.
“Then why let them win?” He stepped toward her. Her eyes sparked in a way that told him he’d struck a note, one he could readily play.
There was a sweet, powdery scent about her. Markedly feminine. He could envision himself gliding his lips over the hollow of her naked collarbone, breathing her in.
“The English have had their way with Scotland for too long,” he said. “Starvation. Raids. Homes burned. Lives stolen.” He shook his head. “No more.” His hand balled into a fist. “King David will reclaim Scotland, and I’ll be there. Will ye?”
Her breath quickened, evident by the swell of those lovely breasts against the neckline of her simple gown. “Dawn?”
He nodded, and she said nothing more, leaving to rejoin the dark-haired woman. Though she hadn’t committed to accompanying them, she would be there.
Or at least he hoped.
Hiding a smile, he put his back to her despite the temptation to watch her depart and approached the inn.
All his men had entered, except the largest warrior who merely lifted his brows at William’s arrival. “Will she join us?” Reid asked.
William shrugged and tried to pass it off as though she were of little concern. “She says she’ll think about it.”
“That’s as close to a nay as ye’ve ever had from a lass.” Reid pulled his auburn hair back into a thong, away from his sharp-featured face. “What do ye think?”
“She’ll show.”
Reid smirked. “An early dawn departure, then?”
It was a tactic William had employed before. A highly effective one.
William simply winked. “Did ye secure the rooms for us?”
“Do ye even have to ask?”
William threw his arm around his second-in-command. There was a reason he’d asked his boyhood friend to be his right-hand man in going up against the English. Reid was resourceful, with a knack of accomplishing any task.
They entered the inn together for a bit of hot food and a few ales before settling in for an early night. As William ate and drank with his men, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to the bonny redhead who spoke with a blended accent. She was fine to look at, aye, but many lasses were.
If her archery skills were as good as she’d exhibited, she would be invaluable as a warrior. They were in an age where a strong bow could give them an advantage, plucking off enough of the enemy to change the tide of battle.
She could be the pivotable role that helped him impress his father.
William hated the twinge in his chest at the thought of his da. He shouldn’t crave the man’s approval the way he did, not when it had never once been given before. But mayhap this time…
He knew the night would be a fitful one as dawn slowly approached, to see if the lass would join them or not. And he hoped to God she would.
ONE-CLICK Kinsey’s Defiance Now
Author’s Note
The idea of a bedding ceremony has always fascinated me with a mix of curiosity and horror. I can’t imagine a new bride’s nerves, often times meeting her husband for the first time, being made to endure such a terrible event.
Which is why I had to write about it.
Technically the first recorded bedding ceremony occurred in the 1400’s, which is a century later than this story takes place. However, it’s not uncommon in history prior to the 1600’s to not have written record of events taking place due to the high cost of vellum (See the Author’s Note in Ella’s Desire for more information on this). Notes about life in general are hard to find because it didn’t seem worth the expense or time to write down such things that were then considered mundane. Ergo, even if something wasn’t recorded until a later date, it didn’t mean it didn’t exist then. This is an overriding theme in history regarding accuracy.
The bedding ceremony was done for two reasons. The first of which was as we all guessed: to confirm consummation and prevent any future attempts at annulment. But there it was also done as part of community. I know it sounds weird to think about your family and friends gathering around you in such an intimate setting, but for some, it was their really weird way of offering comfort and support. I know, I know… No, thanks! LOL
Generally, the couple changed behind screens into their night clothes, then tucked into bed in front of many watchful eyes. Now, men would typically be wearing night shirts as well. And, yes, they did look like nightgowns. Sometimes they even wore night caps too. In this story, Ewan is naked from the waist up and that is 100% creative liberty, because let’s face it – even Ewan in a night cap and nightgown would be decidedly unsexy.
Once tucked into bed, the couple was blessed by the priest, the curtains around the bed were drawn shut and the couple was left alone. This is a generalization of the chain of events. Sometimes there were additional rituals incorporated, like the bridesmaids throwing stockings on the bed to see who might marry next, or food being eaten after they were put to bed and before everyone left. Sometimes the couple was even expected to come back to the wedding party when it was done.
It definitely is a piece of history better left in the past. I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable it must be to go through something so socially awkward. I hope you enjoyed this little tidbit in history and how I used it to in Faye’s Sacrifice.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my amazing beta readers who helped make this story so much more with their wonderful suggestions: Kacy Stanfield, Janet Barrett and Tracy Emro. You ladies are so amazing and make my books just shine!
Thank you to Erica Monroe with Quillfire Author Services for the consistently amazing edits.
Thank you to Janet Kazmirski for the final read-through you always do for me and for catching all the little last minute tweaks.
Thank you to John and my wonderful minions for all the support they give me.
And a huge thank you so much to my readers for always being so fantastically supportive and eager for my next book.
About the Author
Madeline Martin is a USA TODAY Bestselling author of Scottish set historical romance novels filled with twists and turns, adventure, steamy romance, empowered heroines and the men who are strong enough to love them.
She lives a glitter-filled life in Jacksonville, Florida with her two daughters (known collectively as the minions) and a man so wonderful he's been dubbed Mr. Awesome. She loves Disney, Nutella, cat videos and goats dressed up in pajamas. She also loves to travel and attributes her love of history to having spent most of her childhood as an Army brat in Germany.
Find out more about Madeline at her website:
http://www.madelinemartin.com
Also by Madeline Martin
Borderland Ladies
Ena’s Surrender (Prequel)
Marin’s Promise
Anice’s Bargain
Ella’s Desire
Catriona’s Secret
Leila’s Legacy
Borderland Rebels
Faye’s Sacrifice
Kinsey’s Defiance
Clara’s Vow
Drake’s Honor
Harlequin Historicals
How to Tempt a Duke
How to Start a Scandal
Regency Novellas
Earl of Benton
Earl of Oakhurst
Mesmerizing the Marquis
Medieval Novellas
The Highlander’s Challenge
The Highlander’s Lady Knight
Highland Passions
A Ghostly Tale of Forbidden Love
The Madam’s Highlander
The Highlander’s Untamed Lady
Her Highland Destiny
Highland Passions Box Set Volume 1
Heart of the Highlands
Deception of a Highlander
Possession of a Highlander
Enchantment of a Highlander
The Mercenary Maidens
Highland Spy
Highland Ruse
Highland Wrath
Faye's Sacrifice (Borderland Rebels Book 1) Page 22