The Trouble with Highlanders (3 page)

Ye
did
nae
mind
yielding
yer
maidenhead
to
Norris
Sutherland…

She yanked the brush through her hair a little too fast, and it snagged on a snarl. The last thing she needed to think about was Norris. The man was certainly not spending his time dreaming about her. He was the heir to the earldom; women spent endless hours trying to think of ways to catch his eye. Half the lairds in Scotland were trying to secure a marriage contract between him and their daughters. Her own father had done the same. But she did not have as much noble blood as some others, and the Sutherlands always wed with an eye on advancement.

Gitta helped her into a dress and began to braid her hair, when the bells at the gate began tolling.

“Where are ye going?”

Daphne didn't stop. “I have to see who is here.”

“What if it's trouble? Better to leave it to the men.”

“It's me duty, Gitta.”

Even if half her clansmen didn't agree. She hurried around the outside of the keep and into the larger tower. As the bells continued to warn them of approaching riders, women and children were rushing into the great hall to take shelter. Daphne fought her way past them to reach the doorways. The walls surrounding the yard prevented her from seeing who was approaching. The MacLeod retainers were pulling on their helmets and climbing to the top of the curtain wall.

She took a deep breath and followed them. There was more than one curse as she threaded her way through the men. Her small frame allowed her to pass them on the narrow walkway at the top of the wall.

“What in the name of Christ are ye doing up here?” Keith demanded.

“Seeing who's approaching,” she spat back. “Like it or not, I'm the head of this family until me brother arrives.”

“Well I do nae like it, but I like it more than listening to yer cousins squabble over who has the better claim.” He pointed down into the yard. “Nae a single one of those cowards is up here.”

Keith didn't lower his voice. Several of her father's men looked at him and then scanned the yard. Daphne's three male cousins were taking shelter below because there was no one to tell them to take their positions. The wind whipped at her dress, chilling her legs, but when the men standing along the ramparts looked back toward her, there was respect in their eyes. She couldn't take time to enjoy knowing she'd impressed them. The curtain wall was topped with a facade to shield the men defending the keep from attack. She leaned around one to see the approaching riders.

Her belly knotted. Twin columns of riders were heading straight toward them. The lowered gate didn't seem to worry them at all. Their pace was even and their number impressive. There were sixty of them, and every one rode a full stallion.

“They're flying the standard of the Sutherlands,” Keith announced.

“It cannae be.” Daphne reached for the spyglass Keith held. He gave it to her, and she held it up to her eye. Once her vision adjusted, she aimed it toward the lead rider and the pennant he was holding: the rampant lions, denoting the nobility of the man riding with them.

“It is,” Keith assured her. “At least that is good news.”

“Until ye consider we'll be expected to feed them,” Daphne muttered, dreading having to tell Norris how little they had. Her pride was suffering under the weight of the knowledge, but there was no help for it. He was their overlord. She could not refuse him entrance or shelter within the castle for the night.

The riders had made their way to the gate, and the man leading them held up one leather-gauntlet-clad hand. The horses were pulled to a stop, but the stallions pranced in spite of the tight hold their riders had on them. Full stallions didn't stand still easily.

Norris Sutherland wore a leather doublet with studs worked into it for protection. He looked like a Highlander sure enough, just as ready to defend himself as any man riding behind him. The setting sun illuminated the red in his blond hair, making him look as though he were some sort of fire god from the Highlands' pagan past. He raised his head and found her, his eyes narrowing.

“Lift the gate.” His voice rang out clear and full of authority. But Keith delayed giving the order until she nodded. Her insides were quivering, and she bit her lower lip to try and distract herself from her emotions.

He
is
nae
here
for
ye… Why would he be?

She hurried down the stairs as the gate groaned and began to be lifted up by the huge gears used to wind the chains. Someone pounded on the doors of the keep, and they opened to allow the women and children out. They hurried to claim a good spot to watch the arrival of their overlord.

Her
lover…

She drew in a stiff breath and forced herself to stand still. She'd made her choice and had known she'd have to live with the consequences of her actions.

Norris didn't wait for the gate to rise completely. He leaned down across the neck of his stallion and rode into the yard the moment there was enough room. His men followed, their kilts flapping in the evening light.

“Are ye insane, woman?”

He was off his horse and standing in front of her in a flash. Somehow, her dreams hadn't recalled to her just how large a man he was. The top of her head came only to his shoulder, and he was easily twice her weight. There wasn't a hint of fat on him. His thighs were lean and cut with corded muscle, as were his forearms where he'd rolled up his sleeves.

“I asked ye a question, Daphne MacLeod.”

“It sounded more like a demand.” The women behind her gasped. Her belly did a little flip, but the words were spoken, so she lifted her chin and locked gazes with him. Father Peter could add being disrespectful to her overlord to the list of her sins.

She'd forgotten how intense his green eyes were too…

He frowned at her but scanned the men still up on the walls. “Who allowed a female onto the walls when ye had riders bearing down on ye?”

“No one allowed me,” Daphne informed him. “I went up myself, since there is no one else here to see to this clan.”

“So ye are insane.” Norris delivered his opinion in a hard tone. He hooked her upper arm with one hand and swept her toward the keep. The people standing on the steps scrambled to clear a path for them.

They were inside the great hall and inside the chamber her father had used for meetings with his captains before she shook off her shock. The weapons and armor that hung on the walls seemed to suit her mood.

And Norris's, too, by the look of fury on his face.

“Enough, Norris Sutherland…” she sputtered softly, his name feeling foreign on her tongue. “I am not insane but seeing to the things that need doing until me brother arrives.”

“Ye do nae belong on the wall, woman. An archer could take ye out in a heartbeat, since ye have nae been trained to protect yerself and ye had no protective clothing covering yer chest and neck.”

“Well, that would please more than a few.”

Her comment surprised him. For just a moment he stopped glowering at her, and she had a glimpse of the playful nature she had a dim memory of. It was fleeting, though, and he crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze was keen, and he swept her from head to toe. His leather doublet had dust on it from the road, but his chin was free of whiskers. On his head was a knitted bonnet, just like his men wore, only the three feathers adorning its side all pointed up. He was every bit the laird, even if his father still lived. As far as the Sutherlands went, they were solidly united. Norris had the authority to do whatever he pleased, but at the same time, all knew he was a loyal son.

She lowered her eyelashes for a moment, unwilling to let him see the hunger in her eyes. “What do ye want, Norris Sutherland? If ye are seeking shelter for the night, we've pitiful little to offer ye. I can barely feed me own kin.”

“Is that why ye are so thin?” he asked with too much knowledge for her pride. She could see him tracing her exposed cheekbones. It irritated her because she didn't need everyone in the Highlands to know their plight. They'd bear the burden, and it would pass into memory soon enough.

“We're well enough.”

“How much did they take?” he demanded softly.

“All they could,” she admitted. “We'll survive. But as I said, we have little to offer yer men for supper.”

“Gahan.”

Norris Sutherland was an important man, and the huge retainer who stepped out of the doorway was no doubt charged with his safety. She recalled him, and he nodded to her and then aimed his attention at his laird. Gahan was Norris's half brother, born to his father's mistress. He was Norris's opposite, with dark hair and black eyes.

“Select one of the rams and set it to roasting,” Norris instructed.

Gahan tugged on the corner of his bonnet before leaving.

“Ye'll be compensated for the animal,” Norris informed her.

“We do nae need—”

“Yes ye do,” he interrupted her. “The crops are not going to yield ye much this season. Why are the sheep penned?”

“Because me neighbor lured them away and set out feed to keep them on his land.” She hated how weak her reply sounded. “But I retrieved them, so there is naught to worry about. Tomorrow they will be sheared, and we'll begin rebuilding. There is naught for ye to concern yerself with. Ye can be on yer way in the morning.”

His lips rose, something glittering in his eyes. “Why, lass, I've only just arrived. What is yer reason to send me on me way at first light? It's been so long since I saw ye last.”

“It has been mere weeks.”

Triumph gleamed in his eyes. “'Tis nice to know ye are counting the days we are separated.”

“I'd be a fool to do so. Besides, I heard ye wed.”

He stepped closer, crowding her. She shivered and lost her nerve, stepping aside rather than allowing him to loom over her. “The terrible truth of the matter is that me fair bride, Clarrisa, decided to do very much the same as ye did and lie with another man rather than consummate her vows. She's wed to Broen MacNicols now.”

She smiled, emotion taking control of her in a flash of white-hot happiness. But horror followed it, and she shook her head, trying to master her impulses.

“Just how did yer bride elude ye in yer own castle?” she inquired suspiciously.

Norris grinned, cocky and full of confidence. “I may have had a hand in making sure Broen could interrupt us. Be sporting enough to admit that was right kind of me, considering they were in love.”

It had been, and for a moment, Daphne found herself liking Norris Sutherland a great deal more than she'd ever anticipated. The man could be compassionate.

“Well, it matters naught. Yer father will likely be well on his way to selecting another bride for ye, and I do nae need any rumors linking us.”

“I rather enjoy the memory of the facts linking us.” His voice had dipped low and deep, just as it had the night they…

“Ye should nae voice such things,” she sputtered.

He was amused by her, his eyes twinkling with pleasure. “And why nae? Ye enjoyed making those memories—a great deal.” Now there was a hint of pride in his tone.

Daphne fought the urge to shiver. Emotion wanted to wash away her sense and leave her helpless in front of him.

“Enough, Norris. The priest is already threatening to write to the bishop about me transgressions.” She bit her lip, stunned by how easily she was sharing personal information with him. “I have enough to worry about.”

“I see…” he muttered in a tone she recalled instantly from their more intimate moments. “Ye mean the man is threatening to write about our transgressions, do ye nae, lass?”

“No,” she snapped and sidestepped once more to avoid him. “Father Peter would never accuse ye.”

He paused for a moment, his expression turning pensive. “In that case, the man is a hypocrite. I recall being deeply involved in your transgressions. In fact, I'm very tempted to add to the list. If the man is going to carry tales to his superior, I believe we should make sure he has something unique to report. I know a few positions he's likely never heard of.”

Her eyes widened. “Ye're going to end up locked in the stocks for saying things such as that.”

Norris grinned, flashing his teeth at her. He shook his head, irritating her. She couldn't seem to shake the urge to argue with him. She stepped forward and pointed her finger at his wide chest.

“Don't think being the son of an earl will save you. The Church will no doubt double their efforts to make ye repent, so ye set a good example. Mind yer words, and do nae be grinning at me like that.”

“I'm grinning because I assure ye, lass, if I get locked in the stocks for impious behavior, it will be for me actions, not just me words. Which means I would nae be alone.” He caught her up against him in a motion that was almost too fast to see. One moment she was pointing at him, and the next moment his arms bound her against him. She had only a moment to inhale the warm scent of his skin and notice just how solid his body was before his mouth claimed hers.

His kiss was demanding. His lips pressed hers apart while he cupped her nape and angled her face upward for the assault. She struggled against him, trying to push him away, but he held her prisoner. It was a desperate attempt to maintain her sanity. A moment later, her discipline crumbled beneath the teasing motions of his lips. He wanted her mouth to open, and she had lost the will to deny him. What was worse was the fact that she wanted his kiss, needed it to be harder. She curled her hands into his doublet, holding him close as she kissed him back.

The kiss changed instantly. He became more demanding, and it fanned the flames smoldering inside her. Passion leapt to life between them, as though they hadn't parted for weeks. It twisted and bit into her, potent as a drug. But she wasn't its only victim. Norris growled softly, the savage sound one she recalled from the darkest hours of the night they'd spent together. He trailed his lips along her jawline and onto her neck, where he bit her gently. She shivered, the reaction instant and uncontrollable. His grip held her in place as he raised his head and locked stares with her. For a moment, he let her see what the darkness had prevented her from gazing upon the night they shared his bed. Hunger glittered in his green eyes, making them glow. She was mesmerized by the sight, because it echoed her own longings so closely.