Читать книгу Stealing the Bride - Mary Wine - Страница 4

Chapter 1

Scotland, 1554

“Ye’re all the same with yer promises of sons, but I’ve had a bellyful of talk.”

Hayden Monroe slammed his tankard down on the table so hard a measure of ale sloshed over the rim. He gave the mess no mind but aimed his displeasure at the rows of guests sitting at his table. In spite of the fact that he’d invited them, he was not sold on the idea behind issuing the invitation. It didn’t sit well on his mind. Now that he was being forced to listen to them try to sell him a new wife, he was convinced that he’d been insane to agree to welcoming them all into his home.

“Get ye gone. Supper is finished.”

He dropped back into his large, X-framed chair, a dark expression covering his face. As much as he detested the business at hand, he could not dismiss the fact that he must face the issue of finding a new wife.

“Simply agree that ye will wed my sister Arabella and we can send the rest of these chattering women home.” Craig Buchlan’s eyes glowed with anticipated victory.

Argument erupted along the table. Men who had just broken bread together began shouting at each other, the volume of their voices increasing with every word. Hayden felt his disgust double.

“I said enough! Listen to the bunch of ye, turning on one another. I’ve no stomach for it. Go. Hopefully the bright light of morning will help us remember that we are all kinsmen.”

Hayden closed his eyes, certain he was too young to feel so old. He ran a hand through his hair and listened to the sounds of chairs being pushed back from the table. His guests didn’t go quietly; they grumbled about his temper but at least they went.

“What did I do to offend ye, Lord God?” He looked up at the ceiling of his castle home. It was a sturdy roof, fine and modern.

Hayden’s eyes strayed to his abandoned tankard. It too was quite a remarkable show of wealth, made of solid silver, along with every plate gracing the high table. The precious metal shone in the candlelight, but the sight of his belongings did not bring him any pleasure. They were cold and devoid of life. None of it was what he wanted. Wearing the title of laird was nearly breaking his shoulders with the expectations of his clan. His neighbors saw his lack of a male heir as an excuse to raid one another. He’d been trained by his father to use his sword well but it seemed that becoming laird meant he had to fight the battles of the Monroes without that weapon.

It hadn’t seemed difficult. He’d wed Ruth, the girl his father contracted, never knowing what a struggle it was to negotiate a bride from among those who felt he should wed their kin.

He wished he still didn’t know but the ache behind his eyes reminded him that he’d spent three days trying to select his next wife. He’d never missed his father so much.

He missed his wife more.

Sweet, delicate Ruth from the Kavanagh clan. She’d been too young to die. He snorted. No one was ever really ready to die but his bride had been so happy about their coming child, her cheeks blooming every day that her belly swelled larger and larger. She’d never feared the birth; only winked at him when he made sure the priest added a new prayer into the daily mass for her well-being. It wasn’t their first child and Ruth had glowed with confidence, just like so many other women who never rose from the bed they birthed their babes in. Reminding him that she had delivered his children before.

Six months later, his face was covered in the beard he’d refused to shave on the morning he heard that his wife was dead. He reached up and tugged on the lengthening strands.

“I know a way to help ye get what ye want, Laird Monroe.”

Hayden straightened up and jerked his head around to stare at the single man who hadn’t fled in the face of his displeasure.

“Ye have a death wish, Laird Leask? I told ye and the rest of those bride peddlers to be gone from me sight.” He didn’t want another wife, didn’t want to feel such guilt when he was forced to bury another bride who tried to give him children.

The castle was as still as death ... the servants wiping their silent tears on the sleeves of their shirts and chemises. His first born daughter had followed her mother into death’s embrace only a day later, leaving him with no reason to shave because there was no soft baby cheek to worry about scratching when he kissed it. No little chubby hands to be concerned with offending with rough whiskers. Nothing at all to draw him out into the sunlight. There was only a burning resentment for the fact that the fever that had taken both mother and daughter from him had somehow decided to pass him over. The church told him that was mercy but Hayden called it a curse. He didn’t want to be left behind alone with the memory of his daughter’s laughter and his wife’s sweet voice as she sang to her child. The bed chamber they had died in was too full of their memory for him to consider using.

“There will be no peace until ye marry and have children to secure yer borders.”

“I know that, Leask. Why do ye think I am suffering through these suppers that remind me of a slave auction?”

His neighbors would raid one another more and more often until life became as uncivilized as it had been a century ago. He must marry and soon. He was the last of his father’s sons, the third to wear the lairdship, and that fact only made his neighbors that much bolder for they saw him without an heir. Soon they’d begin trying to rip land away from the Monroes and he’d have to defend it. Blood would be spilt, a great deal of it.

“Except that I am not interested in peddling ye a bride.”

Hayden grabbed his tankard and took a large swallow. “Then why are ye eating at me table, lad? I have no patience for men who waste me time.”

“Or a lot of guests that want to impress ye with how many sons their mothers bore.”

Hayden chuckled. “Exactly, lad, which is why I told the bunch of ye to leave me to find what peace I may.”

Dunmore Leask stood up and moved closer. He scooped up an abandoned tankard on his way to the chair sitting next to Hayden. That was a bold move and no mistake about it. Leask might be a laird, but his clan was one-tenth the size of the Monroes. Whichever woman he might have been thinking to offer up as a prospective bride didn’t have much hope of competing with the other men Hayden had just evicted from his hall because her dowry would not be worth as much. If he chose her, the clan would think he was a poor laird for not getting the best offer he might. Life had been so much simpler as a third son; he’d even thought to marry a lass he loved. Those days were gone, carried away with the sweating sickness that had taken his brothers before it stole his family away as well.

Dunmore Leask sat down and took his time getting comfortable. “I do nae plan to ask ye to marry my sister before she gives ye a son.”

Hayden frowned. “I don’t need any grief from the church, man. It’s peace that I’m seeking by looking for another bride.”

“Ye need a son for that.”

“Aye.” He may have barked the word but there was no disguising the longing in his voice. He was weary of the gloom in the house even if he knew well that another bride would not replace Ruth. He could but hope that a new wife would help banish the specters that seemed to inhabit the corners. Even if he didn’t love her, there might be affection between them after a time, and later children to love between them.

None of that would happen if he was riding the border putting down invasion.

“I have a sister who is strong in spirit and body.”

Hayden took another mouthful of ale. “Of course ye do, man. Ye and all my neighbors delight in coming to me home to sup on me fine plates and fill me head with nonsense about how yer female relation is the one who will give me clan their next laird. Right after I give ye the use of me men to secure yer land, that is.” He fixed Dunmore with a hard look. “I’m bloody sick of promises. It’s empty prattle, all of it. Only fate knows who will have the pleasure of watching his children grow up.”

“I am willing to alter the order of things.”

Hayden felt his anger dissipating as his curiosity was aroused. “I heard that and it’s sure to bring the wrath of the church down on us both. Do ye fancy a day in the stocks, then?”

“Ye want a bride and I want an alliance with the Monroes. My sister does nae have enough gold coming with her to gain yer attention above the others here.”

A low growl shook Hayden’s chest. “So ye want to offer her body to me, man? I’ll have that of any girl I take to wife. It’s a wee bit of a requirement if I want children.”

He bit back a snarl because any man who treated his sister in such a manner was no friend of his.

“I propose a bit of courting instead of negotiating for days on end. It’s spring and fine weather. Come and meet my sister, and if the pair of ye find interest in one another then we’ll start talking about handfasting.”

“The church forbids handfasting, lad.” Hayden tried not to sound too hopeful. It was a fact that he liked what he was hearing. It was also a fact that his mother would likely rise from her grave and fill his sleep with nightmares for listening to such an idea. A pure girl deserved marriage from a man. It was the Christian thing to do, the honorable thing, but he was sorely tempted. If by nothing else than the chance to escape the walls threatening to crush him.

“I was thinking to be a bit more practical. The Leask do nae bring ye the same sort of riches ye might get with another clan, but we also are nae so large that the church interferes with traditions that are a thousand years old. What’s the harm in meeting me sister and finding out if she’s the sort of woman ye might be content to wed? If ye do nae care for her, ye gain a few days of peace before returning to my fellow lairds and their demands.”

Hayden rubbed his beard, trying to control the urge to jump at the offer like a hungry hound. He had an appetite for what he was hearing, all right. Maybe it was wrong to not offer for the lass first—the church would tell him that sure enough—but wasn’t keeping his retainers alive more important? He hadn’t agreed to any handfasting. Leask might offer but there was no sin in not answering the man about that end of the arrangement. He could meet the girl; there was no sin in that. But the girl might be eager to tempt him beyond just a meeting.

Her clan might cry foul if he was left alone with her and she claimed he’d had her. Laird Leask painted a pretty picture of peace and relief from the bride negotiations but that might be nothing but a clever ruse to get him close enough for the sister to cry rape. It wouldn’t be the first time a laird was snared by such means. The church held a great power over its people. If a girl cried rape, he’d have to settle accounts with her family, and he could well imagine that wedding the girl would be the demanded settlement.

“Tell me, Leask, is yer sister the sort of woman who sees no harm in bedding a man not her lawfully wed husband?” His thoughts turned dark. There might be even more reason why Dunmore was willing to let his sister lie with a man who wasn’t her husband. She might be a light skirt, and if that was the sort of woman he wanted, he’d go to court.

Leask smiled at him. A slow parting of his lips that flashed his teeth.

“My sister is strong willed and would try to rip my throat out if she heard what I just said to ye about handfasting.”

Hayden snarled. The sound even startled him because he hadn’t realized how much he was liking what his companion was saying.

“Ye are wasting me time and trying to lead me on a merry dance.”

Dunmore Leask remained comfortably seated in the face of Hayden’s displeasure. That took courage or stupidity, and maybe a measure of both when ye considered the topic and how tender his heart was toward it.

“Strength breeds strength, Monroe. My sister will not marry at my command. She will nae walk in here to yer hall, an example of submission, because wedding ye will bring a strong alliance to our clan.”

“Then why are ye talking to me?”

Dunmore leaned forward and Hayden was too interested not to do the same. He was hungry, hungry for what Dunmore was tempting him with. He was happy to marry and please the church, but the moment he married all attention would be focused on his new bride. If she failed to conceive quickly, there would be more raids along the borders. If she produced a daughter, those raids would push inward. It would bring war to every soul looking to him to lead them. Handfasting was different. No one would worry if his mistress kept her smooth waistline. Everyone would assume the girl was drinking some concoction to keep her womb empty. The idea beckoned to him even though he knew he should reject it.

“It’s un-Christian, man.” Hayden forced the words out. “Besides, ye said she would nae obey ye. I think that makes her wiser than both of us.”

Dunmore chuckled. “Aye, that’s Elspeth right enough. If ye want her, ye’ll have to impress her.” He leaned further forward. “But just think, Laird, wouldn’t ye enjoy being allowed to court a girl instead of choosing one sitting at this table? Come and meet her. If ye are the man I think ye are, ye’ll enjoy charming her. Do nae expect it to be a simple task. Elspeth is a maiden because she is proud. Too proud to be led around the back of the stable by smooth words and a winsome grin.”

It sounded simple but he was suspicious. Dunmore Leask shrugged in the face of Hayden’s stony silence.

“Unless, of course, ye prefer to sit here listening to your other guests tell ye how many sons their fathers sired. I suppose that is one way to select a bride. I agree that it would make the wedding day quite an exciting moment, while ye wait to see what lies hidden beneath her face veil.”

Hayden scowled at his companion in response. Dunmore chuckled and took another long drink from his tankard.

Hayden felt the rise of something inside his chest that he had to think long and hard on to identify. It swelled up and began to boil, sending raw need coursing through him. It had been so long since the idea of bedding any woman excited him that he sat in stunned silence, just enjoying the burn while his cock stiffened behind his kilt. The Leask lass was a far cry from the noble-blooded mares his other guests were offering. The clan was small but they had courage, and that snared his interest.

Proud? He could admire that in a lass, maybe even be attracted to it. He wanted to meet her, meet the sister to see if she had the same fire the brother did.

“Ye’re right about one thing, Dunmore Leask, yer idea is better than sitting through any more of these suppers. I will meet yer sister.”

“Ye are worse than a peddler of French boy sluts, Dunmore! A horrible excuse for a brother.”

Elspeth turned in a swirl of her wool skirts, her eyes bright with temper. She should have been born with red hair, not the blond locks covering her head. At least men knew not to toy with a redhead. Her blond hair invited moments like these from her brother. He thought her meek and mild like the color of her hair.

“And ye know what a French boy slut is used for, Sister, so do nae pretend ye are so delicate and unable to stomach this conversation.”

Elspeth propped her hands on her hips.

“I am nae a slut, Dunmore. My body is pure.”

Dunmore lifted one finger and pointed at her. “Which is why ye are worth something more than our money will get for ye. We are talking about Laird Monroe. A man of his wealth and importance will nae have what any other man has tasted. He can demand a noble-blooded bride.”

She tossed her head again, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Let him. I have not ignored passion’s call so that ye can decide who shall pay my whore price. The man wants to come and dally on the green grass of spring before collecting his dowry fortune that comes with a blue-blooded wife. He’ll use me to prove his seed is good and then toss some words of how much he values ye out before riding back to his castle.”

Dunmore cast a quick glance behind them to make sure her voice wasn’t drawing curious eyes. That only made her madder. He closed the distance between them and hooked her arm with one hand. She was slender, but not petite by any means. Elspeth dug her heels in, refusing to be moved so simply. Her brother would know that she meant it when she said no.

“He had two children with his last wife, so his seed is nae doubted. Don’t be hating the man for something he is nae intent on doing. I am talking about getting ye a husband far above any that ye might have aspired to with the meager dowry yer clan can afford.”

“No man comes to see a lass like me without thinking he’s going to be getting all of me. Our clan is nae powerful enough to make him worry about offending us if he leaves me with his bastard.”

Dunmore let her go, his face full of frustration. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what shall ye have, Brother? Naught but another mouth to fill.”

“Ye are nothing like the other girls he has wed. Their noble blood was thin, but yers is strong, Elspeth, and no Leask woman is considered stained for bringing a new life into this world. If ye have a child, it will be a member of this clan. Conceived during a handfasting.”

Elspeth felt her eyes go wide. “That is an old custom and ye know the church frowns on it. We’ll both end in the stocks if Father Simon Peter hears even one word about handfasting. Even England is once more a Catholic nation with Mary Tudor sitting on the throne. Keep talking about handfasting and even being laird will not save ye from being shamed by the church for it.”

“Handfasting is a Scottish custom and one that has been honored by our ancestors.” Her brother’s face clouded with pride. “We’re Scots, not English, and handfasting is Scottish. It does not diminish our faith. The church makes changes to suit its needs, like saying that nuns and priests can’t marry, in order to keep all their land and money. But there was a time that they did wed and they were still devoted to God. Chastity is about keeping money in hand, and I propose a handfasting between you and Monroe to gain ye a better husband than I can get ye with coin alone.”

Elspeth began to pace. She’d always known the day would come when her brother returned from some clan with an offer of marriage for her. She snorted. At least she had assumed it would be marriage. She had spent her time dreading that she might wed an old man when she should have been fretting over being offered up like a tart just because the man was laird of one of the most powerful clans in Scotland.

But Hayden Monroe was powerful, so much so she felt her throat tightening as if there were a noose around it. There would be plenty of her own kin who would eagerly dress her up in the finest dress she owned and present her to him. Never mind that her honor would be forfeit. Even if her brother spoke the truth about the changes in the church, it did not change the times they were living in. She’d be judged by the priest sitting up at the church in his dark robes.

“I’ve not remained pure to whore it away, Dunmore. ’Twas something I was saving for the man who would respect me for it.”

Dunmore lowered his voice. “Monroe does value yer purity. The man has his pick of all the daughters in Scotland, and he is riding here to meet ye.”

“Because ye promised him that I would spread my thighs for him.”

Dunmore frowned at her but Elspeth glared back at him.

“What I promised him was that ye are no meek lass, and ye are not, Elspeth. Ye have steel in yer spine and courage the same as any Leask man. But if ye want the greatest reward, ye shall have to be willing to earn it.”

“I never thought to marry above where I was born.” She didn’t care for how meek her words sounded. The church would approve but her pride didn’t.

“Fine, Elspeth, if ye have outgrown yer boldness, so be it. Simply tell the man to go back to his land. That ye will not have him. I’ll find ye someone else to wed.”

“That would be rude since ye have invited him here.”

She closed her lips because her brother shrugged in response to her argument. Men. They were so foreign to women. She often wondered just what God had been thinking to create it so that they needed each other to produce children.

“Remember, Elspeth, William Wallace didna do what those that came before him did. He employed new ideas and strategies and defeated the English because of his modern thinking.”

“We are not talking about battle here, Brother. Besides, I wouldn’t be the first woman to ripen with a bastard and be denied a wedding. What of my child? It is not an easy thing to be called bastard.”

“Monroe will wed the mother of his child. The man is still wearing a beard in mourning for his family.”

That shocked her. Since the man had invited his neighbors over to negotiate for a bride, she would have expected him to shave and move on.

What sort of a man longed for a woman and daughter that fate had stolen from him? A son she might understand, but now she felt a tender stirring inside her chest. Maybe the man didn’t want to get married any more than she did, but was being pressured by his kin. That was something she understood.

Dunmore shrugged. “Besides, I did nae promise him ye’d handfast.”

“Ye did nae? In truth, Dunmore?” That tender emotion stirred again, this time stronger. Could it be that the man wanted to meet her and discover if there was anything between them? Now that would be too much to hope for. It would mean he was not ruled by lust for coin and land.

Dunmore cuffed her gently beneath the chin. “I told him that ye are wild and proud of yer purity.”

Elspeth snorted at him. “Now yer back to praising me for holding tightly onto my virginity. What happened to yer suggestion of handfasting?”

“Be who ye are and meet the man. If he does nae please ye, I’ll negotiate a contract with the Setons. There’s a second son in that clan I think would have ye with what ye come with.” He held up his hand to still her next comment. “But Monroe is still coming here to meet ye, so ye can hide above stairs if ye’re too worried about not being able to remain a maiden just because ye’ve been in the same room with him.”

Elspeth frowned at him, but her brother clearly thought his plan a sound one. She battled against the urge to feel defeated but it was becoming harder, especially when she noticed her brother’s men peeking around the edge of the wall to see how she was taking the news.

Oh, fie upon it.

With her own mother gone, there was no woman with enough position to force her brother to see reason.

“I am going riding to think the matter through,” she announced in a firm tone. “And I am taking yer horse, not some tired-out mare.”

That drew a frown from her brother. He adored his stallion, but so did she. At least there would be some enjoyment from the day’s events. Her brother didn’t care to share the prized animal but she was going to take what enjoyment she might.

“You will nae.” Dunmore crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s time for ye to stop straddling a horse. No man wants that in a wife. I should have forbid ye that years ago.”

Elspeth narrowed her eyes. “I’m asking for a bit of time to think it through. ’Tis nae much of a concession to let me ride out on a horse that has some life in him. Seeing as how ye told Monroe how untamed I am. Ye can’t very well have the man showing up and seeing me walking along on a mare with my legs hanging down sidesaddle. Why, such is the very definition of submissive. Nothing wild at all about that.”

Her brother snorted. “I hate the way ye turn my own words against me. All right. Off with ye.”

Her brother grumbled but she didn’t remain to listen to him. The urge to escape was pounding through her, urging her toward the open land beyond the walls of their tower.

She loved Dunmore’s stallion. Elspeth slowed down when she entered the section of the stable where the animal was housed. She never approached it too quickly because a wise person didn’t startle such a powerful beast.

The power in him fascinated her. There were plenty of people telling her to stay well away from the stallion, but she didn’t listen to them. It felt as if something drew her to him. She reached out and touched his velvety coat with her fingertips to judge his temper, and it felt as if fire raced down her arm and into her body. The animal tossed its head, pulling on the leather that held it in the stall.

“Aye, my beauty, that is exactly what I was thinking of—getting out of here.”

Pulling the saddle from where it rested over a rail, she secured it on top of the horse. Reaching for the knot that held the bridle, she untied it and wrapped the reins around her fist.

“Do ye nae think that is wee bit too much horse for ye, lass?”

The stallion’s front hooves came off the ground and he let out a shrill sound. Whoever had snuck up on her reached for the bridle but Elspeth pulled down on the reins, controlling the horse before her unwelcome company got close enough to do it. Stroking the stallion’s muzzle in a soothing motion, she peered over the thick neck of the animal at her company.

“Nae. ’Tis not the first time I have ridden him.” And she didn’t care if she was being prideful in telling him that.

“Is that a fact?”

He sounded amused by her claim. There was only a small bit of daylight left and most of it didn’t make its way into the stable with its small windows. Whoever he was, he stood tall enough to have to watch the ceiling or risk knocking his head on one of the thick beams that supported the roof.

“It is nothing ye have to take my word for. Stand there and ye can watch me mount him.”

She was not going to waste the last of the day debating with a stranger when she had her brother’s permission to ride his stallion. Tugging on the reins, she led the horse through the doorway and out into the yard. With a carefully placed foot, she used the power in her legs to gain the saddle. The stallion danced with excitement, snorting in the evening air. But she felt the eyes of the stranger on her. She shouldn’t care what he thought, not when there were far more important matters for her mind to dwell on today.

Still, she couldn’t resist the urge to look behind her. He stood just outside the stable door and his head was even with it. The evening sun touched him and set his hair aglow. It was dark but with copper hiding beneath that dark sable mane. He had it pulled back from his face but the back of it rested on his broad shoulders. Even his beard had a touch of copper in its dark hue, and the sun lit it. But it was the way he watched her that drew her attention. Something flickered in his eyes that filled her with confidence. There was no hint of disapproval for the way she sat atop the horse with her thighs gripping the saddle. In fact, it looked as though he approved of her approach to riding the stallion. Many would not. Half her own clan warned her that riding astride would make her sterile. The other half was quick to tell her that no man would have her to wife if she insisted on acting so dominating. For the moment she didn’t care. Quite possibly, that would be the best solution because then she would never have to marry and answer to another man. Dunmore was bad enough. The only thing that drove her toward considering Laird Hayden Monroe was the fact that her brother would marry soon and his bride would consider herself the mistress of the tower. An unwed sister wouldn’t be wanted, which meant she had important things to think on.

“As you see, I know what I am about.”

“It does appear that way, but it does take a wee bit more to impress me than just sitting there.” His gaze moved over her, touching on the way her knees pressed into the sides of the horse, and a flicker of approval lit his eyes. “A lad of ten could do as much as you’ve shown me.”

“Oh, I plan to do much more, sir.”

And she hoped that he enjoyed the sight of her riding away from him, the arrogant man. There was something about the way he watched her that made her quiver. A hint of command in his gaze that told her he was accustomed to getting what he wanted from everyone he met. Especially women. She was the laird’s daughter, even if her father had been a poor laird. Most of her kin never looked at her as this man was doing. As if she were a woman that they found pleasing.

She shook the odd feelings aside, blaming Dunmore for opening her thoughts up to lying with a man. Now she couldn’t seem to control the urge to contemplate surrendering to passion.

Setting her heels into the belly of the horse, she leaned low over his neck and smiled when she felt the powerful beast begin surging beneath her. Excitement filled her and the wind began chilling her ears and nose as the animal gained speed. Her heart accelerated and soon all she heard was the pounding of the hooves and the thumping of her heart. Everything else fell away behind her. The evening chill failed to bother her. Her heart was beating fast enough to keep her skin warm and her breath coming in small pants. The noose she’d felt tightening around her throat finally loosened, giving her release from the sensation that she was being choked by all the expectations surrounding her.

A flash of lightning ended the ride as the stallion reared up into the darkening night, his front legs pawing at the air in front of him. Elspeth laughed and tightened her thighs around him. When his hooves hit the dirt she took the impact easily, the smile on her lips never wavering.

“All right, I’m impressed with ye, lass. I’ve seen full grown men tossed by a startled stallion.”

Her lips pressed into a hard line and she jerked around to stare at her company.

“I was nae trying to impress you. I don’t even know who ye are.” She felt the return of the pressure about her neck. “’Tis the truth that I wish ye were not here. I was riding out to think some matters through. Important ones.”

He sat very confidently atop a horse that was finer than the one she rode. It was obvious in the subtle darkness of the coat and the more noble lines of the animal’s face. The saddle was richer too, with decorative tooling applied along all the edges. Its quality bespoke a man with money and position. It would seem that her brother’s plan had hooked the interest of Laird Monroe quite well, for the man had ridden in right on his heels. Elspeth struggled to draw her next breath, her throat tightening to the point that it was painful.

“You didna waste any time coming after my brother, Laird Monroe.”

He grinned, a smug little parting of his lips almost hidden by his beard. Another flash of lightning illuminated him and made both their mounts dance. The scent of rain filled the air and thunder clapped loudly above their heads, but the man sat as content as might be, unconcerned about the rain beginning to soak him.

“I am not in the habit of wasting time, Elspeth. I agreed to come and meet ye, so here I am.”

“Nor are ye in the habit of being polite, it seems.”

One of his eyebrows rose, giving him an arrogant look. He pressed his knees into his stallion and guided the animal closer to her with a firm hand on the reins.

“Because I used yer name, lass? Well now, yer brother told me ye were nay the sort of girl impressed with ceremony and titles.”

“My brother told you several things you’d be better off not counting on.” Elspeth suddenly wanted to know what his face looked like beneath that beard. She scoffed at herself for thinking it, annoyed that she couldn’t keep her thoughts on the conversation.

“Is that so?” Something flashed in his eyes that drew an answering flicker from deep inside her. She raised her chin, giving him nothing kind in her expression. But the eager looks on the faces of her brother’s men returned to needle her. The man in front of her was powerful; insulting him was not wise.

That didn’t mean she was set to do what he wanted. Handfasting was sure to gain her nothing. She would have to think of a way to send him away without offending him.

“I came out here to think things through, and I’ve no had any time to do that just yet.”

“So I can leave, is that the way of yer thinking, lass?”

Her horse was nervous with the lightning still making jagged lines across the sky.

“Aye. For the moment. ’Tis nothing against ye.”

He grunted. “Well now, Elspeth, I do believe ye are living up to the very image yer brother painted of ye.” His face darkened. “But I’ve come to meet ye and a bit of surly temper will nae send me packing.”

“Ye’re too accustomed to people pampering ye if you think I am being surly.”

“Pampering?”

He nearly choked on the word, bringing a smile to her lips. Elspeth shrugged.

“Do you mean to imply that yer position does nae bring many to you who do naught but agree with anything ye say?”

The rain began to soak her, a full downpour with no softness to begin it. Wild and harsh, the weather whipped against them, soaking her to the skin in moments. It suited her mood and she didn’t even raise the hood of her cloak but left it draping down her shoulders while the rain wet every inch of her head.

“You certainly don’t suffer from that need.” He sat as content as she in the rain, no hint of dislike for the cold water bathing him. It soaked his shirt, where the front of his doublet was unbuttoned. The fabric plastered itself to his form, allowing her to see the firm ridges of muscle that coated his chest. Apparently he was a man of action. That was in his favor, but it was not enough to gain him hers.

“As if I care what any man thinks of me.” Elspeth kneed her mount and the animal needed no further urging to break into a full run. She did not mind the rain; however, her brother’s horse falling sick would mean trouble for her. But she did not mind taking a care with the stallion. Riding such a magnificent creature meant thinking of its health too. That was the bond that yielded trust between horse and rider. It was getting colder by the minute, so she would have to take the animal back to its dry stable.

The ride back to the stable was very different from the one away from it. A strange awareness invaded her mind, interfering with her normal enjoyment. She couldn’t become one with the beast, couldn’t seem to forget that Hayden Monroe was behind her. She could hear the faint pounding of his horse’s hooves breaking through the thunder to tease her ears. For certain, men had flirted with her in the past, but this was different. She was acutely conscious of the fact that he was trailing her, actually chasing her for the purpose of bedding her.

That was a wicked thought if ever there was one. It bled through her like scarlet wine spilled on a cream-colored table linen. You knew it would be impossible to remove completely, yet couldn’t help but watch in fascination as it was streaked farther across the fabric.

She wanted to turn her head and look back, but that would only encourage the man. It would be the same as hoisting a flag of surrender. What did it matter if he was well muscled? She needed to recall her mother’s words and the teaching of the church, because handfasting was considered pagan.

That was what she needed to do. She knew it and still part of her wanted to know Laird Monroe better.

Elspeth snorted at herself. She gained the path that led to the tower and growled when she noticed the green and yellow flags of Monroe sticking to the stone of the walls. Even soaked with rain, they still stood out, announcing the presence of the powerful laird.

But what enraged her was the looks she gained when she entered the yard. People poked their heads out of windows and doorways. All of them looking at her expectantly. Her cheeks heated when she realized that they were wondering if she was still a maiden. Many of them looked at her dress, seeking out any little telltale sign that she’d already surrendered to Hayden Monroe.

Well, she would not be.

And that was that.