In the Warrior’s Bed (2 page)

“I’ve news from the king.” Brodick reached for a mug. “He’s released McQuade and his sons from court.”

Cullen scowled. Their neighbor would soon be raiding McJames land once more.

“That greedy bastard will be nibbling on our winter stocks the moment he returns.”

“Aye, that’s what I was thinking.” Brodick held his tongue for a long moment.

Cullen stared at his brother. “What?”

Brodick merely raised an eyebrow.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Brodick shrugged. “Nothing.”

Cullen snorted. “Well, it sure looks like something.”

Brodick aimed a hard look at him. “Ye seem to be watching my family a lot. It looks like ye enjoy the sight of it, too.”

“Is there something wrong with that? Would ye rather I brought a mistress home with me?”

Brodick shook his head. “I was thinking that there was something right about it.”

“Get to yer point, brother, before I have to knock it out of ye.”

“I was thinking that it is time to petition the king for a possible marriage between ye and Bronwyn McQuade.”

Cullen stared at his brother. The teasing tone of their conversation died instantly. His brother might hold the title but the family was strong because they worked together to ensure that the McJames clan remained powerful.

Brodick ran a hand over his chin. “It’s a sure thing that McQuade will no deal with either of us on the matter.”

“Which leaves Jamie.”

Their monarch might decide to grant them the match. If for no other reason than to rid himself of the headache McQuade caused with his endless ranting. Cullen’s mother had been betrothed to the man but he’d lost her contract in a game of dice. McQuade still held a grudge against every McJames. His men raided and burned their farms every season. It was also a sure bet that some of his neighbors were thinking the same thing. Everyone knew McQuade had a single daughter and that she was of a good age for marriage. It wouldn’t be the first time a laird’s son took a wife based on the peace it might ensure over his lands.

“It would be a good match, I agree. I’ll think upon it.”

His brother nodded, not pressing the issue. Cullen rose and strode through the hall. His brother’s faith in him weighed more on his shoulders than any well-rehearsed words might have. Brodick held his tongue because he trusted that Cullen would do right by the McJames people. As the son of the last laird it was his duty to place the welfare of the clan above his own wishes.

Even if that meant marrying a shrew.

Cullen didn’t stop at the double doors that led to the inner yard. He kept walking, his legs covering the yard in a quick pace.

A loving family sounded good but not binding himself to a demon hellcat that would likely carve his eyes out if he fell asleep in her bed. Bronwyn McQuade was her father’s daughter, born and reared to hate every drop of McJames blood flowing through his veins. Marrying for the good of the clan was one thing, but taking Bronwyn to his bed promised a life of misery. Even his brother had better hopes for his marriage and his bride had been English.

“I’ll fetch yer Argyll.” One of the younger lads that tended the horses was already running for his horse before Cullen realized he’d gained the stables.

With a grunt he shook his head. He was in a fine state, that was for sure. So deep in thought that he didn’t know where his feet were taking him. The lad returned with Argyll, quite possibly the finest horse in Scotland. Reaching for his head, Cullen offered the beast a firm rub between the eyes. The animal snorted, stamping at the ground.

“Aye, I agree with ye.”

Argyll liked to run and at the moment Cullen wanted to feel the slap of the Scottish wind against his face as well. Tugging on the saddle, he made sure it was solid before swinging up into it. Argyll shifted, snorting with his excitement. Cullen held the reins in a tight grasp, keeping the stallion still.

“Milord.” The stable lad ran forward with a leather bag.

“Aye, lad, that’s what I’m waiting for.”

Cullen held Argyll steady as the lad tied the bag onto the rear of the saddle. It was the simplest of provisions. Oats, wine, and maybe some bread left from the midday meal. Leaving Sterling without it was a choice designed to see his belly rumbling by sundown. The boy finished his task and backed away from Argyll. Cullen flashed him a grin. He was a young lad but he had courage. McJames courage. Argyll was a powerful animal, one with the strength to kill the lad but he wasna afraid of the stallion.

Shrugging, Cullen felt the weight of his sword. It was strapped to his back, highland style. With a flick of the reins, he gave Argyll his freedom. The animal headed for the main gate, his hooves picking up speed as they neared the opening in the main wall that surrounded Sterling Castle.

Argyll charged forward, leaving the walls behind. The wind was brisk, hinting at winter. But the hills were still green and giving the stallion his head allowed Cullen to release his mental burden for a time. He pulled Argyll to a stop some time later. Looking down over the next valley, Cullen frowned.

He’d been here before. Summoned in the dark of night to defend the farmers below. There were three newly thatched roofs in sight, the reeds a brighter yellow than that of the others. It was a blunt reminder of the McQuade’s lust for revenge. The man was nae content with plunder, his retainers always set the flame to the farms they attacked. The feud was near thirty-five years old now.

It seemed too simple to think that one wedding might wipe all that bitterness aside.

Kneeing Argyll forward, Cullen left the valley behind without a care for the sinking sun. He pressed onward and up the next ridge. Pulling up on the reins, he listened carefully. Only the wind whistled but he had to be sure. McQuade retainers would delight in hauling him back to their laird as a prize. Dismounting, he climbed the last few measures of the hill on foot. Staying low, he gazed down onto his enemy’s land.

Wedding Bronwyn would only end the feud when her father was dead. Peering down into the valley below, he noted there was nothing but tall grass and heather swaying in the breeze. No one dared farm the land here because it was so often in the path of raids. A river ran through it and twisted among the rocks. It was good land and a testament to just how much the bitterness between the two neighbors cost. McQuade was so busy waging war, he was passing up the opportunity to have his land worked.

No marriage would dissolve that sort of hatred.

Not that the man would ever willingly give his only daughter over to a McJames. A sheepish grin worked over his lips. It was a pure shame that the lass didn’t attend court. Wooing her might be fun. Asking the king for her dinna interest him but seducing her sounded like fun.

Of course, Jamie didn’t allow hellcats in his court. That likely accounted for the fact that Bronwyn McQuade had never stepped foot in the presence of her king.

His thoughts faded as a rider entered the valley below him. Argyll snorted, shifting as the large horse lifted his nose to smell the air. Patting the thick neck of the animal, Cullen grinned. Gripping the saddle, Cullen swung back on top of Argyll. Getting caught on his feet was certainly no a good idea.

“What do ye smell, my friend? A pretty mare?”

Argyll stamped at the ground, taking a few steps before Cullen pulled him to a halt. He couldn’t blame Argyll. No a bit. On top of that mare was a female that his own body approved of. Now, he’d always appreciated a pretty lass but this one was something more. He wasn’t sure just what drew his attention so keenly. It wasna her face. She wasn’t plain but neither was she a great beauty. He’d bedded a few lasses that were true beauties.

It was the way she rode the mare. Like she was as free as the flakes of snow floating in the air. His grip slacked and Argyll took advantage, moving down the slope toward the mare. The rider hadn’t seen them yet. She was too absorbed in her moment of escape. Aye that was it, what drew his attention. She looked like she had no a care in the world and knew what a blessing it was to have nothing weighing down her shoulders.

His own burdens felt lighter just watching her.

A thick braid of hair bounced against her shoulders but her face was framed by strands that had been tugged free by her brisk ride.

It didn’t seem to trouble her any. A tinkling of laughter was swept up to his ears by the wind. Argyll nickered, gaining another smell of the mare. The rider pulled up on her reins suddenly. She sat up tall in the saddle, soothing the neck of her mare with a steady hand. But the horse tossed her head and danced in a wide circle.

“There now, girl. What’s yer worry?”

Her voice was as enticing as the sight of her. Cullen let Argyll close the distance a few more yards before he pulled up on the bridle. He was on McQuade land now. It was a sure bet that the lass would no be very happy when she noticed him. But he was curious to see what she did when she saw a McJames so close. He had no stomach for women who panicked; their screaming drove him near daft.

The mare smelled Argyll. The animal side-stepped and let out a loud snort. She slid off the saddle because she’d been perched on it side fashion but she didn’t cower in fear. She grabbed the bridle and pulled the mare around to face her. It was impressive to watch because she was a small thing. The mare could hurt her but she kept sure command of the animal, refusing to allow it to rule her.

“Easy now.” Her face rose from where she’d been looking at her horse. Cullen watched her eyes widen as she stared at him. She shook her head as though she were trying to get the sight of him to vanish.

Argyll grunted, proving that he was all too real.

She was a fool.

Bronwyn felt her heart freeze, because the man was huge. The hilt of his sword reflected the last of the daylight. His stallion was a good two hands taller than her mare. It could run her down with no trouble at all. Worse yet, the man wore the kilt of the McJames clan. With her father and brothers raiding their land, he had no reason to treat her kindly. His body was cut with hard muscles, and where his shirt sleeves were rolled up, she saw the evidence that spoke of his firsthand knowledge and skill with that sword. She scanned the ridge above him quickly, fearing that the McJames had decided to repay her father’s raids by doing a few themselves.

But there was no one in the fading light. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she returned her attention to him. She’d never considered that a McJames warrior might enjoy an afternoon ride the same as she.

“Good day to ye, lass.” His voice was deep and edged with playfulness. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his knitted bonnet, a half smile curving his lips. His light-colored hair brushing his wide shoulders, a single thin braid ran down along the side of his face to keep it out of his eyes. He wore only a leather doublet over his shirt and the sleeves of the doublet were hanging behind him. There was a majestic quality to him. One that was mesmerizing. Her brother Keir was a very large man and she wasn’t used to meeting men who measured up to his size. This one did. He radiated strength from his booted feet to his blond hair. There was nothing small or weak about him. In his presence she felt petite, something she was unaccustomed to. Almost as though she noticed that she was a woman and that her body was fashioned to fit against his male one.

“Good day.”

She had no idea why she spoke to him. It was an impulse. A shiver raced down her back. Her eyes widened, heat stinging her cheeks, her mouth suddenly dry. A shudder shook her gently, surprising her. Beneath her doublet, her nipples tingled, the sensation unnerving.

His gaze touched on her face, witnessing the scarlet stain creeping across it. A flicker of heat entered his eyes. It was bold but something inside her enjoyed knowing that she sparked such a look in him.

“It’s a fine day for riding.”

His words were innocent of double meaning, but Bronwyn drew in a sharp breath because her mind imagined a far different sort of riding. Her own thoughts shocked her deeply. She’d never been so aware of just what a man might do with a woman when they were alone, and now was the poorest time for her body to be reacting to such things. It felt as though he could read her mind. At least the roguish smile he flashed her hinted that he could. His lips settled back into a firm line. She had to jerk her eyes away from them but that left her staring into his blue eyes. Hunger flickered there and her body approved. Her nipples drew tight, hitting her boned stays.

“Ye shouldna look at me like that, lass.” He sounded like he was warning himself more than her, but her blush burned hotter because he was very correct.

“Nor should ye look at me as ye are.”

A grin split his lips, flashing a hint of his teeth. “Ye have that right. But what am I to do when ye stand there so tempting? I’m merely a man.”

And for some reason she felt more like a woman than she ever had. Something hot and thick flowed through her veins. There was no thinking about anything. Her body was alive with sensations, touching off longings she’d thought deeply buried beneath the harsh reality of her father’s loathing to see her wed.

“A man who is far from his home.” Her gaze touched on his kilt for a moment, the blue, yellow, and orange of the McJames clan holding her attention. “I’m a McQuade.”

“I figured that already, but its nae my clan that keeps us quarreling.”

He let his horse close the distance again. The mare didn’t move now, she stood quivering as the large stallion made a circle around her. The same flood of excitement swept through Bronwyn, keeping her mesmerized by the man moving around her. Bronwyn shook her head, trying to regain her wits.

“But I’m thinking that we just might be able to get along quite nicely.” His eyes flickered with promise. “Ye and I.”

“Ye should go. Ye’re correct that it is my clansmen that seek trouble with the McJames. Ye shouldna give them a reason to begin a fight.”

“And ye would nae see that happen? I’m pleasantly surprised.”

His stallion was still moving in a circle around her. Bronwyn had to twist her neck to keep him in sight. Every time he went behind her, her body tightened, every muscle drawing taut with anticipation. Such a response defied everything that she knew.