Page 20 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)

“ I knocked on your door last night,” Grace said ruefully, as Maddie sat down next to her at the breakfast table. “I saw a light shining, but you didn’t answer.”

Maddie reached for some bread and a small dish of butter. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“With a candle burning?” Grace hesitated. “That’s not at all like you. You used to scold Lilian and me whenever we’d accidentally leave something alight in our room.”

Grabbing a knife to slick the butter onto the fresh bread, Maddie mustered the mildest smile she could. “It was a long day. I remember lying down, thinking I’d just catch my breath after being suffocated by my wedding dress, and... I must’ve dozed off. I didn’t hear you knock.”

She had heard her friend, but nothing could have compelled her to open the door to Grace in the state she’d been in at the time.

Her friends had never seen her cry, and she saw no reason to change that.

Besides, Grace would have just felt guilty if she’d seen Maddie in tears as an inadvertent result of the dare.

“I was worried.” Grace cast a disapproving look toward the other end of the table where Oscar and Ryder were discussing some island off the coast.

He didn’t even look up when I came in. Maddie had dispensed with dresses, perhaps for good, yet she felt no more comfortable in the trews and shirt that she wore. Although, she had a feeling that had nothing to do with the actual clothes and everything to do with what had happened yesterday.

“All is well,” Maddie insisted.

Grace shook her head. “I don’t believe you. What did he say to you after he sent us all out of the Great Hall?”

“He warned me to be careful around his councilmen, that’s all,” Maddie answered, biting into her bread and butter in the hopes of delaying further questions.

She should have known better than to think that one of her dearest friends would simply let it lie. They knew one another too well, and even Maddie could see that she wasn’t acting like herself.

“So, you didn’t get to use your dare to its fullest?” Grace asked, cradling a cup of rosehip tea, the fragrant steam rising.

Maddie nearly choked on her mouthful of bread. “I fell asleep before midnight; that is the opposite of what I would usually do.” She shrugged. “I experienced enough of it, and I... enjoyed it for the most part.”

She still wished she’d slammed the door to the Great Hall with all her might, but there had been some satisfaction in leaving quietly. Calmly. There was power in it, somehow.

More than that, she wished she had never said “please.” To have been shown a dizzying new world of heightened feeling, only to have her pleasure ruined by Oscar’s dismissal, was a cruelty she no longer wanted to think about.

“What dare?” a different voice interjected from the far end of the table.

Maddie froze, noting Ryder’s curious expression. How had he heard them from all the way down there? Beside him, Oscar wore a face of indifference, concentrating on the undisclosed meat on his plate.

“A silly thing,” Grace replied in haste.

“It’s something we were supposed to do at Horndean before we ended our time there.

I gave Maddie her dare yesterday, but it wasn’t much good in the end.

Still, rules are rules: I can’t change the terms of the dare, so all I can do is congratulate my friend on her triumph.

She can now join me in the hallowed halls of dares done. ”

Ryder raised an eyebrow. “Gettin’ married to me braither wasnae the dare, was it?”

“Goodness, no!” Grace laughed. “If anything, I would have dared her not to marry your brother.”

Oscar skewered a chunk of meat, glaring down at the plate as if his breakfast was burned. When he put the chunk of food in his mouth, he chewed it as if he wished to end its bloodline.

Perhaps, he wasn’t as indifferent as Maddie had thought.

“So, nothing happened?” Grace asked in a softer whisper, her gaze flitting to Ryder to make sure he wasn’t eavesdropping.

Maddie managed to swallow her mouthful of breakfast. “I’ll speak to you about it later. Now is really not the time.” She felt an unwelcome heat creeping up her neck. “After breakfast, let’s take a walk in the gardens.”

She would have to tell the truth at some point, and she hated keeping things from her friends. The sooner she got it out of the way, the better.

“That sounds good,” Grace replied, her eyes already brimming with regret, as if she could guess some of what had occurred because of the dare.

At that moment, the door opened, and a guard rushed in, his hand on the pommel of his sword. “M’laird, Laird MacPhee is at the gates, demandin’ an audience with ye.” He exhaled harshly. “We tried sendin’ him away, but he wouldnae listen. Said he’d wait out there all day if he had to.”

Oscar finally raised his head, his eyes darkening. “He’s a wee bit early. I thought it’d be a week at least until he paid us a visit.” He flicked his wrist. “Send him in, I suppose, if he willnae leave of his own accord.”

“Should I fetch the council?” Ryder asked, paling.

Oscar sniffed. “Nay need. I’ll tend to him well enough on me own.”

His gaze darted to Maddie for just a moment, and though she looked for some warmth or some hint of affection, she found none. He stared right through her, as if she were not even there.

“Very well,” Ryder said, rising. “Then, I’ll escort the ladies out. They’ll nae want to be here for this.”

Oscar shot his brother a stern look. “The lasses stay. And ye’ll stay, so sit yer arse down.”

Evidently, Oscar was not in the best of moods, and Maddie had a feeling that Laird MacPhee was about to bear the brunt of it.

Rather him than me.

Laird MacPhee blew into the breakfasting hall like a winter storm, all shrieks and howls and bluster.

“I kenned ye were ruthless, Laird Muir, but I never took ye for a fool,” he raged, stomping across the flagstones.

“Ye cannae just... just marry another lass when we’re in the midst of negotiatin’ yer marriage to me sister!

Two clans are relyin’ on this alliance, and ye’ve just smashed it to pieces on a whim! ”

Drumming his fingertips against the table, his other hand gripped around a cup of weak ale, Oscar stared at the man with all the interest of someone watching the farmers bale hay.

He was in no mood for this, his temper frayed to the point of snapping.

He hadn’t slept a wink last night, tortured by memories of the past and memories of Maddie crying out his name: an awful clash of perfection and devastation that had made rest impossible.

“It’s nae a negotiation if only one side is tryin’ to gain somethin’,” he said dryly. “I never considered yer proposal, as ye well ken.”

Laird MacPhee slammed his fists down on the table, his face an alarming shade of purple. “I ken nothin’ of the sort. Ye owe me, as ye well ken!”

“Owe ye for what?” Oscar replied, tutting at the melodramatic display. It wasn’t honorable for a Laird to be so petulant.

“Ye made me sister unmarriageable to anyone else,” Laird MacPhee shot back, brown eyes shining with fury. “Ye seduced her! Ye made promises to her!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar glanced at Maddie to see her reaction. Surely, she was smart enough not to believe the frantic, feverish words of Donald Cowan, the Laird of MacPhee.

“I did none of those things,” Oscar said flatly, returning his attention to the furious Laird. “I’ve met yer sister twice, and even then, only when she was pointed out to me by ye from across the room. I daresay I havenae said one word to the lass, much less seduced her.”

“Ye’re callin’ her a liar?” Donald snapped.

“Nay, I’m callin’ ye one,” Oscar replied. “Ye’re desperate, Laird MacPhee, else ye wouldnae be here, disturbin’ the peace on what is the mornin’ after me weddin’. Indeed, ye’re puttin’ me wife off her breakfast.”

Huffing and puffing, Donald turned his livid eyes toward Maddie and Grace. “Which one is she, hmm?” His gaze darted between the two women, his lip curled. “Which one is the Sassenach wench that ye destroyed our alliance for?”

To Oscar’s dismay, Maddie flashed a fierce glare at the newcomer, confirming her identity without saying a word. And judging by Donald’s glower, he didn’t have friendly introductions in mind.

“Apologize to me wife,” Oscar snarled, his temper finally tearing away from all the discipline he had left.

In that moment, he didn’t care if it caused a war; he wanted to bounce Donald’s head against the table so hard that it cracked.

“I’ll do nay such thing!” Donald hissed in reply, edging closer to the two women. “She ought to apologize to me for ruinin’ the future of me clan, and for stealin’ what isnae hers from me sister. Though, perhaps, her blood will be enough to satisfy this insult.”

Oscar saw the man reach for his sword, cursing his guards for not at least taking Laird MacPhee’s weapons off him before he entered the castle. In an instant, Oscar was on his feet, striding toward the red-faced cretin, armed only with the knife he’d been using to cut his morning venison.

“Ye dare to threaten me wife, in me own home?” he spat, feeling the balance of the sharp blade in his hand. Light and slender, it would fly true if he threw it.

Sneering, Donald made the mistake of not backing down when he had the chance.

“Aye, I dare to threaten her, and I’ll kill her an’ all for what she’s done.

” His broadsword slid from its sheath with a whisper of steel against leather.

“This is me only chance, and I willnae see it ruined because of this Sassenach whore.”

He darted behind Maddie and dragged her out of her chair, one arm locking around her waist, while he brought the edge of his broadsword to her throat. Neither were offences that Oscar could ignore.

Nay one touches me wife.

Without thinking, he let the slender knife fly, his aim so precise that it sailed over the top of Maddie’s head and landed neatly in Donald’s left cheek. The blade embedded entirely.

Shock widened Donald’s eyes, loosening the broadsword from his grip. He fumbled for his cheek with both hands, the long blade falling to the floor with a jarring clatter.

“Ye should have apologized,” Oscar said, snatching up the fallen sword as blood trickled through Donald’s fingers. “Never ever threaten me wife!”

Spotting the blade in Oscar’s grip, Donald seemed to rally, lunging to grab Maddie again.

His thick forearm snaked around her throat, her beautiful eyes bulging as he began to squeeze, her fingernails frantically trying to claw at him.

Her feet kicked backward, but if Donald felt any pain, he didn’t show it.

“I’ll snap her neck,” the man hissed. “Yer offence to me can only be repaid by blood!”

Oscar’s eyes flared. “Well, it willnae be mine or hers.” He heard Maddie choke, his anger a writhing serpent within him, ready to bite. “Let her go now, and ye can leave with yer life.”

“I am owed,” Donald roared. “If ye willnae see sense, then ye’ve left me with nay?—”

Oscar had always thought it was a bad idea to talk too much when the enemy was holding a sword and knew how to use it. And he didn’t want to hear another word out of Donald’s lips; he’d been given more grace than he deserved already.

Laird MacPhee’s arm slipped from Maddie’s neck, heavy legs stumbling backward. The man stared down at his side, twisting his head a little to see that the blade had gone right through. He blinked, choking out a bellow of pain.

It was the last sound he would ever make, as Oscar wrenched the sword out... and promptly lunged a second time, driving the blade straight through Laird MacPhee’s venomous and vengeful heart.

Blood frothed from Donald’s lips, his wide eyes staring at Oscar as if he didn’t understand what had happened. A moment later, he dropped to the floor like a sack of grain, crumpled and lifeless. His blank eyes confirmed what Oscar already knew: Laird MacPhee was dead.

“Braither…” Ryder’s voice brought Oscar out of his determined trance. “Braither, what have ye done?”

Oscar ignored him, catching Maddie as she stumbled into the back of her chair. “Are ye injured?”

“No,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I... don’t think so.”

He ushered her into the chair, struggling not to think of the day before. “Then sit. Catch yer breath.” He turned to his brother. “I did what I should’ve done a while ago, riddin’ us of a threat. Wasnae much of a fight, though. Nae enough to get me blood poundin’.”

He cracked his neck and rested his foot against the limp form of Laird MacPhee, pulling out the blade and tossing it to the floor. In case the man had a speck of life left, which seemed unlikely, he’d bleed out quickly enough to ensure he never rose again.

“Ryder, bring in some guards to take care of the body,” Oscar commanded. “When ye’ve done that, write a peace treaty and send it to Clan MacPhee.”

Ryder bowed his head. “Aye, Braither.”

Satisfied that everything would be tended to, Oscar looked back at Maddie, who was wrapped up in Grace’s arms. Envy spiked through his chest, seeing her friend doing what he should have been doing.

“Hopefully,” he said, clearing his throat, “their next laird willnae be so foolish as to threaten me wife.”

I’d start a thousand wars for ye, if it meant ye could be safe.

As for what he could do about himself—the enemy who was already within the gates—he set all that aside and went to the woman he would burn cities for, sinking to his knees before her. What else could a man do in the presence of the woman he longed to worship?