The Highlander Series (11 page)

“Mairin,” he began and gently touched her shoulder. She trembled underneath his touch, and he realized she shook with quiet sobs. “Lass, don’t cry. ’Tis not as bad as that.”

“Nay?” She sniffed and shrugged away from his hand, moving closer to the window again. She bowed her head and her hair fell over her face, obscuring it from his view.

He wasn’t any good with tears. They discomfited him. He was much more comfortable when he was inciting
her anger. So he did the one thing he knew would infuriate her. He ordered her to stop crying.

As predicted, she turned on him, spitting like a cornered kitten.

“I’ll cry if I want to. You will cease ordering me about!”

He raised an eyebrow. “You dare to issue
me
orders?”

She flushed, but at least she wasn’t crying any longer.

“Now tell me about this brand on your thigh. Your father’s crest. I’d like to see it.”

She went crimson and she backed up a step until her back met with the ledge of the window. “I will not do something so indecent as to show you my leg!”

“When we’re married, I’ll see more than that,” he said mildly.

“Married?
Married?
I’m not marrying you, Laird. I’m not marrying anyone. Not yet anyway.”

It was the yet that intrigued Ewan. Clearly the lass hadn’t totally discounted the notion of marriage, and she seemed levelheaded enough, so she had to realize the importance of marrying. She could hardly bear an heir to Neamh Álainn if she never married.

He sat on the bed and stretched his legs outward. This might take awhile, and he might as well be comfortable.

“Tell me why not
yet
. Surely you’ve given thought to marriage.”

“Aye, I’ve given it thought. I’ve thought about little else over the years,” she blurted out. “Have you any idea how the last ten years have been for me? Living in fear, having to hide from men who’d force me to their will so that they’d gain from their marriage to me. Men who would plant their seed in my belly and discard me the moment I gave birth.

“I was but a child when I was forced into hiding. A
child
. I needed time to formulate a plan. Mother Serenity suggested I find a man, a warrior, with the strength to
protect my heritage, but also a man with honor. Someone who would treat me well,” she whispered. “A man who would cherish the gift I would bring to our marriage. And me.”

He was struck by the vulnerability in her voice. The dreams of a young woman sounded strong in the tale she spun. It wasn’t practical, but when he looked at her, he understood that she’d been desperate and afraid, and she’d clung to the hope of finding such a man among all the ones who’d do just as she said. Marry her, impregnate her, and discard her when she no longer served a purpose.

He sighed. She wanted to be loved and cherished. He couldn’t offer her those things, but he could offer her his protection and his regard. It was far more than Duncan Cameron would give her.

“I’ll never hurt you, lass. You’ll have the respect due you as wife to the laird of the McCabe clan. I’ll protect you and any child you bear me. You wanted a man who had the strength to defend your legacy. I’m that man.”

She turned wounded eyes on him, skepticism bright in her gaze. “Not to offer insult, Laird, but your keep is crumbling around your ears. If you can’t defend your own, how can you expect to defend a holding such as Neamh Álainn?”

He stiffened at the insult, intended or not.

“You cannot be angry over such an observation,” she rushed to say. “ ’Tis my right to question the qualifications of the man I would marry and in whose hands I would place my life.”

“I have spent the last eight years fortifying my troops. There is not a larger, better-trained force in all of Scotland.”

“If that is correct, why then does your keep look as if it has sustained crippling damage in a battle?”

“It did,” he said bluntly. “Eight years ago. Since then
my focus has been on keeping my clan fed and my men trained. Repairs to the keep have been a much lower priority.”

“I had not desired to marry anyone yet,” she said in a mournful voice.

“Aye, I can understand that. But it seems you no longer have a choice. You’ve been discovered, lass. If you think Duncan Cameron will give up when a holding such as Neamh Álainn is at stake, you’re daft.”

“There’s no need to be insulting,” she snapped. “I’m not daft.”

He shrugged, growing impatient with the direction of the conversation. “The way I see it, you have two choices. Duncan Cameron. Or me.”

She paled and twisted her hands in agitation.

“Perhaps you should give it some thought. The priest should arrive within two days. I’ll expect an answer by then.”

Ignoring the dazed look in her eyes, he turned and walked from the chamber. He paused at the door and turned to pin her with a stare.

“Don’t think to try to escape again. You’ll find I have no patience for chasing disobedient lasses all over my lands.”

Marry the laird. Mairin paced the interior of her chamber until she thought she might go mad. She stopped at the window and stared out, inhaling the soothing spring air. It was a warm afternoon with only a gentle bite of a chill.

Making a decision, she gathered her shawl and hurried from the room. No sooner had she stepped from the keep than one of the McCabe warriors fell into step beside her. She peeked cautiously up at him and remembered that he’d been one of the men with Alaric the day they’d found her and Crispen. She searched her memory for his name, but the whole event had been one big blur to her.

She smiled, thinking he only wanted to offer her greeting, but he continued in step with her as she rounded the corner of the keep and headed in the direction of the hole in the skirt.

Before she could lift her dress hem and climb over the crumbling rock face, the soldier gallantly took her hand and assisted her over the side.

She stopped and he nearly bumped into her, so close was he following behind. She whirled around and tilted her neck so she could look him in the eyes.

“Why are you following me?”

“Laird’s orders, my lady. ’Tis unsafe for you to walk about the keep unescorted. I am charged with your protection when the laird himself is not with you.”

She snorted and put one hand on her hip. “He fears me escaping again and you’ve been put to the task of making sure that doesn’t happen.”

The soldier didn’t so much as blink.

“I have no intention of leaving the keep. The laird has informed me of the consequences of such an action. I’m merely out for a walk and a bit of fresh air, so there’s no reason for you to leave your other duties to escort me.”

“My only duty is to your safety,” he said solemnly.

She gave a disgruntled sigh. She was sure the laird’s men were every bit as thickheaded and stubborn as he was. It was probably a requirement.

“Very well. By what name are you called?”

“Gannon, my lady.”

“Tell me, Gannon, are you my permanent watch guard?”

“I share the duty with Cormac and Diormid. Next to his brothers, we are the laird’s most senior men.”

She picked her way over the stones protruding from the ground as she made her way up the hillside toward the grazing sheep.

“I can’t imagine that’s a duty any of you would welcome,” she said wryly.

“ ’Tis an honor,” Gannon said gravely. “The laird’s confidence is great. He wouldn’t entrust the safety of the mistress of the keep to just any of his soldiers.”

She stopped and whirled around, clamping her lips shut to prevent the shriek from escaping. “I am not the mistress of this keep!”

“You will be in two days’ time, just as soon as the priest arrives.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She’d never
been a drinker of spirits, but right now an entire tub of ale would be welcome.

“The laird does you a great honor,” Gannon said, as if sensing her disquiet.

“I’m thinking ’tis the other way around,” Mairin muttered.

“Mairin! Mairin!”

She turned to see Crispen running up the hill as fast as his legs would carry him. He shouted her name the entire way and nearly knocked her off her feet when he crashed into her. Only Gannon’s steadying hand prevented her fall.

“Careful, lad,” Gannon said with a smile. “You’ll knock the lass over if you aren’t careful.”

“Mairin, is it true? Is it true?”

Crispen positively wiggled in his excitement. His eyes shone like twin stars and he clutched at her arms, alternately hugging and squeezing her.

She grasped his shoulders and carefully pried him away from her. “Is what true, Crispen?”

“You’re marrying Papa? You’ll be my mother?”

Anger descended with breathtaking speed. How could he? How could the laird do this to Crispen? It would break his heart if she denied it. The laird’s manipulation shocked her. She’d thought him more honorable than that. Arrogant, aye. Even determined and focused. But she hadn’t imagined him acting so deceitful and stirring the emotions of a young child.

Furious, she rounded on Gannon. “Take me to the laird.”

“But, my lady, he’s with the men. He’s never to be disturbed during training unless ’tis a matter of great urgency.”

She advanced on him, thrusting her finger into his chest. She accentuated her words by poking him. He was forced to take a step backward, his gaze wary.

“You will take me to him at once or I’ll turn this entire keep upside down to find him. Believe me when I say, this
is
a matter of life and death.
His
life and death!”

When she saw the determined denial in Gannon’s eyes, she threw up her hands, let out a huge sigh of exasperation, and turned to head down the hill. She’d find the laird herself. If he was training with his men, it meant he was in the courtyard where such training took place.

Remembering Crispen, and that she had no wish for him to hear what it was she had to say to the laird, she turned and pointed her finger sharply at Gannon.

“You keep Crispen with you. Do you hear?”

His mouth gaped open at her command, and he stared alternately at her and at Crispen as if unsure what to do. He finally bent down, said something to Crispen, then pushed him in the direction of the sheep herder.

Mairin turned and stomped down the hill, angrier with each step. She nearly tripped over a rock and fell flat on her face, but Gannon caught her elbow.

“Slow down, my lady. You’re going to injure yourself!”

“Not myself,” she muttered. “Your laird, more likely.”

“Pardon? I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

She bared her teeth and shrugged out of his grasp. She blazed around the corner of the keep and into the courtyard. The heavy clang of swords, mixed swear words, and the smell of sweat and blood rose sharp in her ears and nose. She surveyed the mass of training men until she finally found the source of her fury.

Before Gannon could stop her, she waded into the fray, her gaze focused solely on the laird. Around her, shouts went up. She thought one man fell as she passed, but she couldn’t be sure because she didn’t pause in her quest.

Halfway there, the laird stopped his activity and
turned to stare. When he saw her, his brow creased and he scowled. Not just his usual show of displeasure. He was furious. Well, that was fine, because so was she.

Only when she stopped barely a foot in front of the laird did Gannon catch up to her. He was out of breath and looking at the laird like he feared for his life.

“Your pardon, Laird. I couldn’t stop her. She was determined—”

The laird’s angry gaze found Gannon and he arched an eyebrow in blatant disbelief. “You couldn’t stop one slip of a lass from marching across a courtyard where any one of my men could have killed her?”

Mairin snorted in disbelief but when she turned so she could survey the men who were now all standing in silence, she swallowed. Each carried a weapon, and if she’d stopped to think about it at the time, she’d have realized that going around the perimeter would have been a much better idea.

They were all scowling at her, proving her theory that the laird demanded surliness and pigheadedness from his men.

Determined to show no remorse for her mistake, she turned back to the laird and pinned him with the full force of her glare. He might be angry, but she was far more so.

“I have not given you an answer, Laird,” she all but yelled. “How could you? How could you do something so … so … underhanded and dishonorable?”

The scowl on his face morphed into an expression of complete astonishment. He gaped at her with such incredulity that she wondered if he’d perhaps misunderstood. So she hastened to inform him of precisely what she was so furious about.

“You told your son that I was going to be his mother.” She walked up to him, stabbing her finger into his chest. “You gave me two days. Until the priest arrived. Two
days to make my decision, and yet you inform the entire keep that I’m going to be the new mistress.” By then, she was beating him solidly with her hand.

The laird glanced down at her fingers as if he were about to shoo an annoying insect. Then he looked back at her, his eyes so icy that she shivered.