Читать книгу Highlander Taken - Juliette Miller - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

I WAS DREAMING. I knew this even as I drifted willingly into the sweet, comforting fantasy. Caleb’s cool hand reached for mine, the touch light and welcoming. He helped me from the carriage, taking me close to his slim, warm body, ushering me into a back-alley stables. Sounds of the city filled the rain-soaked night—men’s voices, the sharp, rhythmic clopping strikes of a horse’s feet on cobblestones, a woman’s distant laughter, drifting piano notes—and there was relief in the warmth of the enclosed hay-strewn haven, even if it smelled of burning coal and damp wool. Caleb smoothed the wet strands of my hair from my face. “’Tis not much,” he said, “but we’re out of the rain. I’ve some bread and water. And we’re together. ’Tis all that matters.”

Yet looming wide-shouldered shapes were emerging from the limitless shadows, swallowing Caleb, closing in. I recognized one of them from the distinctive lithe, predatory countenance of him and the glinting devil-blue glow of his eyes. His gold-and-silver weapons were strung across his restless body, bright splintered shards that cut the night. A twisting, edgy appeal to this danger held me and touched my body in a light, sultry caress, but the promise of pleasure was laced with unknowable darkness.

I fled, hiding, seeking refuge in a secluded garden that grew out of the gloom. I was comforted by the country air, the warm, rose-scented breeze. I knew he was there. I could feel him before I could see him. He had returned to me, my garden phantom, as I knew he would, to hold me and lead me to safety. He drew me to his body, enveloping me in his night-fevered embrace until there was nothing but the bold, rising sensation of his touch. His long fingers cupped my jaw. His mouth took mine in a gently demanding kiss and I was transformed. I had become a vessel to be filled, quivering with primal, aching need. His strong, masculine hands roamed my body, lighting the fire I had become. The waves rose, the beauty licked wherever his touch caressed me, I was falling, dying with pleasure, almost reaching the ecstatic peak of my every desire...

“Stella.”

...so close...

“Stella.”

Bonnie’s voice. And Ann’s. They were shaking me gently.

I opened my eyes to find them gathered around me, both regarding me with a look of amused concern. “Stella. Wake up.”

As my dream faded, I noticed that my sheets were wrapped around my legs in a twisted coil. My skin was covered in a light dewy sweat. My shift had bunched up and was barely concealing my body. The warm, dream-laced throb was dissipating and I was left wanting and bereft in its aftermath.

“Whatever were you dreaming about?” asked Ann, her eyes glimmering with curiosity.

“You were moaning and pleading,” commented Bonnie with equal fascination. “He must have been some dream.”

I sat up.

“Are you all right, Stella?” Ann smoothed my unruly hair. It was Ann, more than any of the others, with her rich brown eyes and kind heart, who understood my sorrow most of all; she’d always been more attuned with her own compassion than anyone else I knew. Ann’s hair was the fairest of all of us and curled around her face in loose ringlets. The light splashes of pink that colored her cheeks gave her a fresh, youthful appearance. Her character was prone to innocence and naiveté, traits that made her seem even younger than her eighteen years. The glint of her understanding almost brought me to tears now, after the rush of my entangled dreams. I held her offered hand for a moment before straightening my shift and rising from the bed.

“I’m fine. It was just a dream. Where are the others?” I asked, noticing fully only then that they were the only two in attendance.

“They’ve gone to watch the men. There’s some sort of swordplay competition going on.”

“Why aren’t you with them?” I knew Bonnie’s secret lover, Jamie, was among our visiting troops, as he had recently been made a junior officer. Bonnie, although a year younger than I, had an adventurous nature and an outlook that made her seem more worldly than the rest of us. Being the niece rather than the daughter of our clan’s laird had given her and her sister, Lottie, a freedom that we lacked. Although they were not allowed to marry until at least one of us had secured a favorable match, they escaped much of the tyranny of our father. That, he reserved for us. And Bonnie, especially, took full advantage of her position. She took risks that the rest of us found forbidding. I knew, for one, that she often crept out the window of our chambers at night, climbing down a rickety ivy trellis, to spend secret hours with Jamie in the stable loft.

“We were waiting for you to wake,” said Bonnie.

Bonnie and Ann helped me dress, brushing my hair back into some semblance of order after my fitful sleep. I wore a bright jewel-green dress and the gold chain necklace that was as much a part of me as the strands of my hair or the light amber color of my eyes. In a spirit of generosity I had not personally witnessed in my father, he had given my mother a gift of jewelry at the birth of each one of her five daughters. She died when we were very young children, and each of us inherited the individual pieces that corresponded with our own births. The year of my birth must have been a prosperous one, and my sisters agreed that my gift was the most prized of all. It was made of hammered rose gold, small and simple oval rings strung together in a long chain I could slip over my head if I choose to. But I rarely took it off and wore it as a much now as a talisman as I did as a tribute to my mother’s memory. The necklace also served as a reminder that my father had once possessed love, and enough of it to bestow lavish, thoughtful gifts; I wondered if he’d loved her so much that he’d used all his love up. He certainly didn’t seem to have much of it left for us. If anything, my mother’s death had twisted my father’s love into something resembling bitterness, as though he blamed us. And I, the daughter most like her in looks and in character, seemed to inspire the most fervent of this vengeful ire. He was angry at her for leaving him. He was angry at us for somehow stealing the life from her. I embodied all of his resentment, which had festered with each passing year.

We walked through the halls of the Mackenzie manor and it was clear by the cleanliness and vibrant artistry of the decorating that diligent care was commonplace at Kinloch. I admired the attention to detail that was obviously practiced in all areas of upkeep.

Our own keep, it had to be said, was not nearly so meticulously and lovingly cared for. I doubted many were. Mackenzie workers of all stations appeared to be not only dedicated to their tasks but also enjoying themselves. We passed several servants who were laughing as they paid particular attention to the correct placement of a flower arrangement, clearly enjoying each other’s company as they worked, and allowed to do so.

Then, as we strolled through a picturesque garden on our way to the training grounds, we stopped to watch one of the gardeners give a demonstration. He was explaining the mechanics of a clever new watering device, and each of us was as engrossed by his enthusiasm as the other gardeners were.

I rarely saw that kind of camaraderie among our own staff, and wondered at the difference. My father’s ruling overseers took care of all the duties of our keep, including the grounds and the upkeep of the manor itself. He had not thought to pass those duties on to his daughters—something I hadn’t paused to consider before now. My father had sequestered us too much, maybe, or thought us not up to the task of managing the manor and all its labor. In fact, we had few duties to perform and found ourselves idle much of the time. As I watched this inventive, engaging gardener and his audience, I thought it might be nice to find such satisfaction in work and in having something truly useful to offer.

After recent events, I wouldn’t have dared to bring up any subject other than marriage to a nobleman to my father, but it occurred to me that I could perhaps discuss it with Maisie; if her bid to marry to Wilkie was successful, Maisie would, in time, become the new Lady of Glenlochie. She would have some say in the workings of the clan, and would therefore be able to—if Wilkie agreed—allow us certain leniencies. Perhaps more than we’d ever had. The thought lent a nimble note of optimism to the day.

We neared the training grounds, and we could hear the shouts and commotion of the men’s activity. Dust rose in the sun-drenched light.

Reaching the place where a small crowd had converged to watch the sparring, we found Clementine, Agnes, Lottie and Maisie. My light mood faded slightly at the sight of Maisie’s troubled expression, and I recalled Wilkie’s disappearance with the exotic blonde stranger last night. I went to my sister, who I’d always been close to despite her high-strung nature, and linked my arm through hers, reading her thoughts. “Laird Mackenzie is as dedicated to sealing the alliance between our clans as Father is,” I said, reading her concerns.

“I know,” she agreed with some despondency, adding quietly, “Wilkie hasn’t appeared yet this morning.” Nor had she—the blonde stranger—this was clear from my sister’s expression. My eyes scanned the crowd in a silent confirmation.

At the far end of the sparring arena, Laird Mackenzie and our father were deep in discussion. I thought that a good sign.

“The negotiations for your wedding to Wilkie are already well under way,” I said in an attempt to console her. “You know that. They’re likely discussing it now. ’Tis why we’re here, after all. We’ve all heard Father say it often enough—the Mackenzie alliance is crucial to our military position and can only be secured irrevocably by the bonds of marriage.”

“’Tis true,” agreed Agnes, overhearing and adjusting a curl of Maisie’s hair. “They’re probably finalizing the arrangement. You might even be wed as soon as tomorrow.”

Bonnie’s eyes followed Jamie, her betrothed. He entered the ring to face off against one of the lower-ranked Mackenzie officers. Without taking her eyes from Jamie, Bonnie prodded Maisie gently. “When Wilkie becomes laird, our new lady will have only the best interests of her sisters and cousins in mind, to be sure.”

We watched Jamie take his place, and I couldn’t help reflecting on Jamie’s similarities to his younger brother. His hair was a slightly darker shade than Caleb’s. And in his soldier’s stance I could see he was taller and broader; Jamie’s was a more imposing stature. The distinct family resemblance only succeeded in reminding me of my lingering heartbreak, which had faded by the mildest degree. Maybe it was the bright sunlight or the bustling, charged activity of the scene, but I felt less sorrowful than I had in several weeks—since Caleb’s hasty departure, in fact.

“Aye,” Clementine, my eldest sister, whose tone was laced with an edge of resigned woe, added. “Eventually, our new laird might even allow us to marry whoever we choose to.”

Poor Clementine. True to his character, our father had forced Clementine to make the choices she had made, regarding the men who had humiliated her. Twice she’d been engaged and twice she’d been shunted at the altar, a series of events that had finally convinced her that her true path was to join a convent. She was due to leave soon after the harvest. It occurred to me then that maybe the men had deserted her because they’d been forced into marriage against their will, and had been unable to follow through at the crucial moment. I knew Clementine would never have complained in the face of my father’s decisions; we’d been trained all our lives to treat our father’s decisions as gospel. And if we ever protested, he had no reservations about using the back of his hand—or his whip, less frequently—to quiet our insolence. He was laird, after all: all-powerful, and with the larger needs of the clan to consider, rather than the only selfish desires of his children. But with all that had recently transpired, my blood boiled at the injustice of it.

I hadn’t thought of it before, but my sisters were right. Once Wilkie wed Maisie, he would be in line to take over the title of Laird Morrison, after the passing of my father. As much as I feared my father, I didn’t wish him dead, yet I knew his illness to be worsening. And I couldn’t help thinking past his reign. Wilkie might not be averse to letting us choose our own husbands. Caleb might be allowed to return, though I knew better than to hope for such a thing.

“Aye.” I barely heard Maisie’s reply through the haze of my thoughts. “And I also have my own interests to consider. Of that I’m afraid I’ll need to be most definite. My first order of business, as Wilkie’s wife, will be to make sure he has no visiting...distractions.” She didn’t need to name her concern to be understood: the blonde distraction she was referring to would not be welcomed by the impending Lady of Glenlochie.

“I’m sure that’s a reasonable request,” Agnes said. Agnes, so unlike her twin, spoke with an ingrained authority on every subject. While Ann possessed a gentle, elegant beauty, Agnes was more petite, with pale skin and knowing brown eyes. She made up for her lack of physicality by ensuring that her opinion was always heard. “Wilkie will no doubt agree.”

I hoped, for Maisie’s sake, that he would.

Jamie’s small battle came to an abrupt end when his sword was knocked from his hands by his opponent’s decisive swipe. There was some laughter from the men as the young Mackenzie warrior jeered.

Clementine tried to reassure Bonnie. “I’ve heard it said that the Mackenzies are particularly well trained. They compete well against even the strongest of men.”

As though to punctuate the remark, a murmur rippled through the crowd as a commanding helmeted Mackenzie warrior walked into the ring. He was challenging not one but two of the more experienced Morrison soldiers, and he looked more than up to the task. Even before he removed his helmet to reveal his identity, I knew who he was. The crisscrossing strapped holsters that dripped with weaponry. The untouchable confidence. Kade Mackenzie, the very menace who had haunted my sleep, overpowering my more-peaceful dreams of Caleb and weaving through my shockingly sensual reveries of the garden phantom.

He was a captivating figure, to be sure, not only for his size and dynamic presence but for the immanent spectacle his very manner seemed to suggest; whatever drama was about to unfold was sure to be perilously theatrical, at very least. He held the riveted attention of every spectator in attendance, myself included.

Kade took his position, clutching a huge, lethal-looking sword, and in his left hand he held a shield that was cleverly armed with small, razor-sharp spears. A second sword was strapped to his back, where he could easily access it, and a large knife hung at his hip. He wore a leather sleeveless vest that exposed his tanned, muscular arms. His eyes caught mine for a long, fortified moment, causing a jolt of awareness to seep into every anxiety I possessed, and deeper still. Then he fitted his helmet back into place and took his position. His concentration honed in on his opponents and he began to circle, like a hungry wolf might circle newborn lambs. He was undoubtedly the most threatening aggressor I had ever laid eyes on. I feared for our own Morrison soldiers and hoped they would not be maimed, or killed.

Bonnie breathed a light sigh, perhaps of relief, now that Jamie was already bested. She muttered an unsteady sentiment we might all have been thinking: “Good Lord.”

The spar began and the Morrison soldiers attacked as one. Kade deflected easily, his movements so deft, so cuttingly concise, that the first defender was relieved of his weapons within the minute, and limped from the ring with a bloodied cut to the leg without bothering to defend his teammate. The second opponent didn’t last much longer. His strikes against Kade’s sword barely registered and were so skillfully countered that they appeared mere child’s play. With a circular slice, Kade succeeded in flinging the defending soldier’s sword with such force that several people in the audience had to flee from its flying path.

Kade kneeled over the felled Morrison warrior, staunch aggression radiating from him, and he held the point of his spear to the man’s throat. Then, after a loaded moment, Kade stepped back, allowing the man to surrender and make his way unsteadily to the sidelines. That he was able to best two of the largest, most battle-hardened Morrison warriors so easily only added to his clinging ferocity.

Again the crowd murmured, and several people backed up.

Kade stood, surveying our assembled Morrison warriors. “Is this the best you can give me?” he growled, issuing a defiant challenge.

“’Tis unnerving,” commented Ann quietly.

“He’s brutally strong,” observed Lottie.

“And so wild,” exclaimed Agnes in quieted tones. “To bloody the man was hardly necessary. He nearly speared Hugh right through the throat.”

I allowed that perhaps Hugh was still suffering from the effects of my futile attack on him with his own knife. He’d be wearing more than one bandage tomorrow, a truth that did not vex me in the slightest.

Lottie whispered her agreement. “He’s beastly.”

“Wilkie’s equally skilled but so much more civilized,” Maisie said.

I could only concur with my sisters as I watched Kade Mackenzie with a mixture of mild horror and accumulating awe. Maybe it was the entwined nature of my morning dream and the way Kade had appeared alongside not only Caleb but also the enchanting garden phantom, but I felt my skin grow warm and flushed from the spectacle of this display, from the effects of his raw, merciless energy. As aggressive as his attack might have been, there was no denying the athletic grace of him, and the articulate control with which he held himself.

My unease—or whatever this was—only intensified when I noticed that the exchange between my father and Laird Mackenzie seemed to be somewhat heated and complex; the way they were articulating with their hands, the grave concern etched onto Laird Mackenzie’s features, and my father’s, too: what were they discussing? Surely a straightforward negotiation about a marriage that had already been discussed and agreed to wouldn’t be so fraught.

Before I could dwell further on what the lairds’ angst might be about, a Morrison warrior stepped into the ring to challenge Kade, cheered on by his ranks and his clan members. It was Aleck, one of my father’s first officers. He was a massive ruffian who was better known for his brute strength than his tactical intelligence. He could throw a boulder the farthest, drink ale the fastest and had once killed a man with his bare hands. He was also one of the officers who had beaten me, at the orders of my father, when I had attempted to follow Caleb to Edinburgh.

In fact, Aleck and I had known each other as children. We were the same age and he had once, when we were fourteen, given me a thistle flower. At that age, he’d been a gangly boy with long limbs, knobby knees and a clumsiness that was likely a result of his ungainly adolescence. He’d eventually grown into his frame, towering over most of his peers and gaining a reputation not only as the strongest but also the most ambitious. He had been born of a lowly status and would therefore never be eligible to marry one of the laird’s daughters, as stated by my father himself. Nor would he amount to much; he might have aspired to be a small landholder, and a soldier of some ranking in the laird’s army. But Aleck had not been deterred by any obstacles of class or breeding. He had spent the past six years training endlessly, besting the blue bloods and proving his loyalty so thoroughly that he had recently gained the position of first officer. Twice he had asked for my hand, and twice he had been refused. I believe my father thought Aleck’s proposals to be in jest, a joke shared over ale in the late hours of strategic discussions. My father had only mentioned this to me recently, an offhand comment to prove that I could do better than Caleb, that I was sought after by soldiers and nobles alike and that I should not set my sights so low: a reference to both Caleb and Aleck, I knew.

As Aleck had beaten me, more than once, I couldn’t help feeling that the whip’s bite was laced with sweet revenge. I had not accepted the thistle flower Aleck had offered me those many years ago; my sisters had laughed and I had followed their lead.

Now, as he faced off against Kade, I thought they looked evenly matched. Aleck was bulkier than Kade and clearly outweighed him by a fair amount, but Kade was quicker and wilier. The crowd watched as the dueling men circled, swords raised. Aleck struck first, swinging his weapon with such force that it made a thrumming whirr as it cut through the air. Kade met the slice with his own sword. The clash of metal was deafening. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be on the receiving end of such a heavy, solid blow. I found myself wondering in that moment if it hurt, if the jolt would surge up Kade Mackenzie’s arms and into his body, if the jarring impact was as intense as it looked. The turn of my thoughts surprised me, that I might feel an unmistakable note of concern for him, that I hoped, somewhere in the periphery of my own emotions, that he would not be harmed.

Kade faltered only slightly but shook it off and quickly retaliated with his own strike. The spar continued and I watched with undue fascination. It was as skilled a fight as I had ever witnessed: pure brawn versus trained, intricate strategy. Kade deflected and sidestepped. He jabbed and sliced. Aleck had only one move. He was strong but predictable, and Kade took his advantage, making impact, once and again, until his sword was stained with Aleck’s blood. Aleck, enraged, struck again. Kade ducked and raised his decorated shield. The sharp points on its surface sliced across Aleck’s arm and he howled in pain, dropping his sword. Kade leaped on Aleck, catching him off guard and upsetting his balance, until Kade sat astride Aleck, his sword held to Aleck’s neck in a very decisive win.

“I would not want to be alone with that man,” whispered Bonnie.

“Nay,” agreed Agnes, her eyes wide. “Either one of them. Have you ever seen such a savage display in all your life?”

Kade was slow to withdraw his sword from Aleck’s throat. There seemed to be some kind of continued challenge between the two men, and only when Laird Mackenzie and my father approached them did Kade leave off. He stepped away and removed his helmet to reveal his long, disheveled hair, making him appear all the more wild.

Even from this distance, though, I could detect that Laird Mackenzie’s discussion with Kade had nothing to do with the fight. My father spoke, gesturing in our general direction. Both Laird Mackenzie and Kade, to my utter dismay, looked directly at me. My heart clutched in my chest at the visceral impact of their scrutiny. My father took his leave of them, ordering Aleck to rise and follow him, along with several of his other officers. He walked over to where my sisters and I were standing, and he said gruffly, “Stella. Come with me.”

Without intending to, I grasped Ann’s sleeve. “Just me?”

“Just you. Now. I have something urgent I must discuss with you. The rest of you may return to your chambers where Stella will join you shortly.”

I had a bad feeling about this. And so did Maisie. Our eyes met briefly, but I was being summoned, surrounded, flanked and escorted at the insistence of the blood-smeared Aleck and others of my father’s ranks.

Dutifully and with no other choice, I followed.

* * *

“BUT, FATHER, I CANNOT! Please. Please don’t force me.” I tried to stop the tears but could not hold them back. The room blurred and I was glad of it. I wanted to block out every glint of this distressing reality.

My father was irate, as always, that I was not accepting his decree with blind obedience. “Do not defy me, lass,” he seethed. “I have had enough of your pathetic excuses and your ill-fated yearnings. Your pleading will not be indulged.”

“But I don’t love him. I don’t even know him.” I could acknowledge a certain draw to Kade Mackenzie, but my curiosity was fraught with dark chasms of the unknown. A cutting wit, a glinting eye, a masculine radiance: it was not enough. These were superficial details that did nothing to tone down the certainty of his proven, volatile aggression that was much too fresh in my mind.

My father contemplated me with undisguised contempt. Then he turned from me and chuckled quietly, the sound entirely devoid of humor. He took a long swig from the silver flask he held.

“You prefer the simpering blacksmith to a proven warrior of one of the highest-ranking noble families in the Highlands?” my father hissed.

Aleck contemplated my despair with his dark, suggestive eyes. He was entirely untroubled by the fact that he was smeared with sweat and dirt, or that his wounds, although not life-threatening, still ran with fresh blood. He stood by the door with his arms folded across his massive chest, as though to ensure that I didn’t attempt a sudden getaway. To be sure, he was an effective deterrent; his filthy, bloodied bulk would ensure that I kept as much distance between us as I possibly could have.

“Your feelings for him, I’m afraid,” my father continued, “are entirely inconsequential. Laird Mackenzie is as dedicated to this alliance as I am. Wilkie Mackenzie, however, has all but refused to marry your sister. He favors another. A fair-haired foreigner, apparently. I know not where she hails from, nor do I care. It matters not. What does matter is that a wedding will take place, and soon. It has been decided, therefore, that you will wed the third brother.”

My father’s suggestion was unthinkable. My worst fears were being realized. If I could remind him of Kade Mackenzie’s famously wild, unpredictable character, surely my father would reconsider. “His reputation—”

“Is that of an accomplished, extremely well-armed soldier, which Aleck here can only attest to,” my father said with some disapproval; he was less than pleased by Aleck’s earlier performance in the training grounds. “He is also brother to a highly successful laird and warrior. You are fortunate that Kade Mackenzie has offered to step up and fulfill his duty where Wilkie has failed.”

“But he’s as brutal and stormy as he could possibly be!” My voice sounded high with desperation and I made an effort to calm it unsuccessfully. “You witnessed his reckless behavior in the sparring ring. I cannot marry a man like that.”

“What I witnessed was a man so skilled in the art of warfare that he bested one of my strongest men and walked away without so much as a scratch. His brother believes he might learn how to teach his skills wielding weapons and also designing them, and in that regard he would be a valuable military leader.”

“Please, Father. There is more to this than military considerations, surely. ’Tis my life we’re discussing! He’s quick-tempered. Dangerous, even. I—I don’t want to be his wife.” More specifically: I didn’t want to share his bed. To be forever bound to his tempestuous energy, no matter how curious I might have been about the undeniably enticing effect that energy infused me with the few times I had made his brief acquaintance. Any allure he might have possessed was ominously overshadowed by the more immediate and fearsome image of his untamed power in the sparring ring. I knew only too well the kind of damage such manly strength could inflict.

A desperate thought occurred to me, possibly my very last lifeline. I would never have mentioned such a thing unless I thought my sister willing, and I knew her well enough to know that she very likely was. “Why don’t you allow Maisie to be the one to marry him? She may very well want to wed Kade if Wilkie has refused her. I know she would. She’s desperate—”

“I made allowances for Maisie’s request to marry Wilkie only because I thought it was a certainty...for reasons I won’t expound upon now. Your elder sister is retreating to a nunnery. She has no further interest in marriage. Therefore, you, as second oldest, must be the one to secure the new laird-in-waiting. Complications are wont to arise when the protocol of birth order and marriages is not followed. Besides, Maisie’s desperation has undermined her allure. He wants you.”

My father paused to take another swig from his flask. In the ensuing silence the words hung in the tense space between us. He wants you. What could Kade Mackenzie possibly have wanted of me? And why? To be sure, the very thought was enough to inflame all my reservations. “But—”

My father would hear none of it and interrupted me curtly. “The decision is made. The marriage will take place in two weeks, so I suggest you come to terms with your fate and prepare yourself accordingly.”

It was foolish of me, aye, but I had to try. “Father—”

My father lashed out at me, hitting the side of my face with the back of his hand, causing me to stumble backward. I caught myself and held my own hand to my cheekbone, which throbbed with the heat of the impact and my own humiliation. I had known to expect this; my father’s temper was nothing new. I should not have continued to defy him, yet I never seemed to learn. I did not have freedom of choice, yet I craved that one particular luxury, always, and enough to question his caustic authority.

But his wrath now seemed to almost undo him. He was feeling the effects of his age and his illness. In the past, his hits had been much more forceful. His strength was failing him. He coughed violently and uncontrollably for a few moments, spitting the blood that rose from his lungs onto the stone floor, where it made a gruesome blotch.

I knew my father was ill. But I had not known the extent of it. And, God help me, in that moment I was almost glad of it. I was glad that he could not hurt me as much as he once would have done. I could understand, too, why he was so fervent about securing a laird-in-waiting, to take his place when he could no longer lead. And the smallest glimmer of hope clung to the periphery of this realization. If I did marry Kade Mackenzie, and if my father became too ill to lead, Kade would step up to the position. Which meant that my husband would outrank my father.

And so would I.

“You will do your duty, Stella, and that is the end of it! Now go. Get out of my sight. I will call for you later.” To his first officer, he said, “Aleck, take whatever measures are necessary to ensure my daughter’s obedience in this matter, lest she dream up another futile attempt to flee or some other equally daft scheme.”

“I am at your service, Laird Morrison,” came Aleck’s reply.

With a sick feeling in my stomach, I followed Aleck from my father’s chambers out into the wide hallway. The door closed, and Aleck fell into step beside me; at his normal pace his stride might have been twice that of my own. As we walked, he surprised me by looping his burly arm around my waist. I attempted to remove myself from his grasp, but he was not to be dissuaded.

“You heard your father’s orders as clearly as I did, Stella. I must take whatever measures necessary to ensure your obedience. Has your father mentioned to you that I asked for your hand before your marriage to Mackenzie was arranged? But you know that already, do you not? If you do refuse Mackenzie, I have every reason to believe the laird will favor my request. I am, after all, one of his most trusted officers.”

I couldn’t help blanching at his words. I knew this to be untrue; it was unlikely my father would wed me to a man of Aleck’s bloodline. But I looked up at him, aghast. The thought of marrying Aleck was even more off-putting than that of marrying Kade Mackenzie. I could remember even now the hurt I inflicted when I had refused Aleck’s long-ago gift. His face had fallen and I later regretted the cruel childishness of my reply. Ever since, Aleck had gone out of his way, when our paths occasionally crossed, to ridicule me with threatening intention. Because of this, I thought him an ill-mannered lout who caused more than a ripple of unease every time he flicked me a glance. I knew well that his animosity toward me was laced with desire and revenge.

And the disquieting thought could not be suppressed: if I attempted to mutiny from the Mackenzie marriage, a match to Aleck would likely be considered as an apt, severe punishment. At the age of fourteen, Aleck had been a shy, gangly boy. Now, he was a massive, seasoned warrior with thick black hair, irises so dark it was difficult to distinguish them from the inky hue of his pupils—a detail which only added to his somewhat sinister demeanor—and a face that could have, if I didn’t know the history of all the thoughts behind it, been called noticeable if not handsome. He was far too rough to be attractive, and far too coarse to be likable.

“Perchance your father might allow one of your younger sisters to secure the Mackenzie alliance,” he said, pulling me closer. In fact, I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the way this was progressing; there was no one about and we were still some ways from the guest chambers I shared with my sisters. “You and I could get to know each other better, Stella, while we have the opportunity. You know I’ve always had my eye on you.”

I struggled against his advances, pushing my hands against his barrel-like chest. “Aleck. Unhand me. I must return to my sisters.”

But Aleck only smiled and pulled me closer. “Don’t defy your father again, lass. He’ll be most displeased by your continued disobedience when I was given strict instructions.”

“To return me to my chambers. Nothing more.”

His lips curled in a lewd grin. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Holding me in his hard grasp, he tilted his head slightly, leaning toward me as though he might kiss me. The scent of him, of fresh blood and salty musk, filled my senses and I feared I might wretch.

Shocked and distressed, I slapped his face. He was stunned enough to loosen his grip, and I managed to disengage and run from him.

I held my skirts as I bolted as fast as my gown would allow, turning once to see him running after me, his face thunderous with rage.

And as I turned the corner, I ran right into the solid form of a very large man, who was so surprised by the sudden collision that he held me in a decisive embrace, to corral me or to steady me.

It was none other than Kade Mackenzie.

With my father’s declaration fresh in my mind, I couldn’t suppress a blush that rose to my face as Kade held me. His hands were clasped on my shoulders, and my body was pushed up against his. The contact caused him to utter a low, strangled gasp, as though this rugged, self-assured soldier was shaken by our sudden and unexpected closeness. The textures of him, I couldn’t help noticing as my breasts rose and fell from my exertions, were stunningly hard and unyielding. The scent and feel of him overwhelmed my senses. Sun and fresh air and earthy, spice-touched masculinity. “Stella.” His muttered exhale, laced with genuine surprise, was a statement of recognition more than a greeting. And it was too familiar, this address: a detail that hardly mattered now, if my father’s plans were a certainty. A fluttery memory was kicked up by his utterance. He knew my name. I will taste more of you, Stella. I have not had nearly enough. I want you as my own. But I suppressed the thought, which was very nearly painful with its sweetness. Of course Kade would now know my name, if the news that I was to become his wife had reached him, which was more than likely. He, no doubt, would have been given more say in the decision, to be sure, than I had.

After a brief shocked moment, Kade set me on my feet and took a step back. And as Aleck appeared, scruffy and enraged, Kade studied the situation with some consternation. I could see that my reddened, tearstained cheek did not escape his notice, and the observation caused his eyes to darken.

Only moments before, I had been lamenting Kade Mackenzie’s very existence, but now, as I gasped for breath, I felt overwhelmingly glad to see him.

Still dressed in his training garb and fresh from the strenuous masculine activity of sparring, and winning, Kade looked rougher and more intimidating than ever. The dramatic vitality of him drew—nay, commanded—my attention, as it had before, and I felt uneasy about this power he seemed to hold over me, as though his very presence controlled not only the direction of my eyes, but also the entirety of my thoughts. His too-long hair was windblown and the sleeveless leather training vest he wore showed off the scarred and sculpted definition of his arms. Slung across his body with a mesh of straps, belts and holsters was his ever-present arsenal of weaponry, making him look all the more dramatic. I was thankful I had not been speared by something on impact.

I had noticed an innate confidence in the Mackenzie men at the recent formal gatherings. But now, dressed in his training gear, with the sun and air still radiating from the dirt-dusted set of his shoulders, it was easy to see that this was the more natural, native state of Kade Mackenzie than the clean white shirt and smart attire. Here, clad in his leather trews, combat vest, tall boots and enough swords and knives to equip a small army, he looked wholly at ease, as though he’d not only had all his greatest successes in this outfit but also regularly slept in it. The rugged vigor of him was practically a visible force. The knowledge that I would be forced to marry him—unless I could indeed either escape or somehow talk my father out of the arrangement (either scenario I knew to be highly unlikely)—fed a squirmy, fluttery sensation into the low pit of my stomach. My anxiety—and my fascination—was manifesting itself in unusual ways, it seemed.

Kade, too, seemed oddly ruffled. His breathing was uneven, his mouth opened slightly from the force of his exhalations.

But then I was reminded of Aleck, whose large palm reached for my bare arm. Before his touch was even upon me, Kade’s knife was drawn and held decisively between us. Aleck stopped all movement, and his stare in Kade’s direction promised death. But Kade did not appear at all intimidated. His own steady blue-tinted threat was as cold and volatile as I had ever seen it.

“There’s no need to manhandle the lady,” Kade said, fully regaining whatever composure he had temporarily misplaced.

“The lady is my charge and I’ll handle her however I see fit,” countered Aleck.

“You are within the confines of the Kinloch walls, soldier, and you will follow our rules. Women are not harmed, nor treated with disrespect. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Aleck eyed Kade, exhaling what might have been a chuckle of disbelief. Such a rule was not practiced, we both knew only too well, at Glenlochie.

In the wake of their recent duel, conflict sparked in the air.

“I fear I am lost,” I said to Kade, hoping to break their stalemate before violence broke out. “Could you be so kind as to show me the way to the guest chambers of my sisters? My guard here cannot remember the way.”

“I remember the way,” Aleck growled. “Follow me now, lass, and I’ll lead you.”

“Nay!” I said, perhaps too loudly. “I mean...what I mean to say is, we would be honored by your assistance. To make sure we know the way of it.”

“We don’t need—” Aleck began, but Kade interrupted him.

“I’ll escort you,” said Kade gruffly to my intense relief. I knew he could read my predicament; what I didn’t know was if he would care. Yet I supposed Kade’s irritation was somewhat warranted. After all, I was his betrothed, almost. He would surely be aware of the proceedings by now, and the proposed change to the marriage plans: his, to me. The sight of another brute manhandling me might have been enough to provoke any husband-to-be. I had little doubt Kade would be manhandling me himself, and as soon as he got the opportunity. But he appeared to be miffed by the thought of someone else encroaching on his potential territory. And at that moment, I was almost glad of his outrage.

Aleck did not argue further. I wondered if it occurred to him that if and when my marriage to Kade Mackenzie took place, Kade would, in fact, become Aleck’s new laird-in-waiting. He would take the role as first officer and outrank Aleck. Aleck did not appear to be at all pleased by this possibility. His face twisted into a loaded grimace, and he followed along, resentment radiating in waves from the wide set of his shoulders. I could not help thinking this animosity did not bode well.

Kade Mackenzie led us to my chambers, where Aleck took up his post outside the door.

I murmured my thanks to Kade and hastily retreated into the safety of my sisters’ company, closing the door securely behind me. And as I was welcomed into my sisters’ questioning circle, a detail of my earlier heated exchange with my father lingered with me. I had taken only brief note of it at the time, but it echoed insistently now. I looked at Maisie’s grief-stricken face and thought of my pleas to let her be the one to wed Kade, if Wilkie had refused her.

Her desperation has undermined her allure, my father had said.

He wants you.