Page 5 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)
“ W hy do ye keep starin’ at the door?” Ryder Blaine asked, swallowing down a mouthful of salted porridge.
Younger than Oscar by three years, and gifted in his role as Man-at-Arms, Ryder wasn’t one to mince his words. He saw things that others missed, particularly when it came to his older brother.
Then again, Oscar couldn’t deny that he had spent most of the past hour staring at the door of the small hall they used for breakfast.
“Is there a lass that isnae so willin’ to leave?” Ryder pressed. “I warned ye that, one of these days, there’d be trouble.”
Oscar half-laughed at just how close his brother was to the truth. “I’m waitin’ for a guest to arrive.” He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. “Might be luncheon by the time they appear.”
“Aye, well, ye enjoy waitin’,” Ryder said, scooping the last of his porridge out of the bowl. “I’ve got a hundred bored soldiers to train in the yard, and if ye dinnae send ‘em out to patrol soon, there’s goin’ to be a war.”
Oscar bit off a chunk of malted bread, smothered in salted butter. “Ye’d think they’d be glad of the peace.”
“Nay. When they’re nae fightin’, they have nay purpose,” Ryder corrected. “And nae all of us can be drownin’ in lasses to distract ourselves like ye. Some of ‘em have wives they’re keen to be away from for a while.”
Chewing, Oscar turned to his brother. “Why do ye think that is? Why do so many of the lads down there have this need to escape their wives? If they dinnae like their wives, why did they marry at all?”
He wouldn’t admit it to his brother, but Oscar had been kept awake for most of the night with a slow, pervasive dread that he’d just tossed away his freedom because a beautiful lass asked.
The very word “marriage” sent a shudder through him, making him think of shackles and misery.
Even marriages of love so often went awry; love turning to hate, affection turning into jealousy, the sweet turning sour.
I avoided it successfully for years, and I just said “aye” because of... He still wasn’t sure why he had agreed. Sympathy or pity weren’t enough to explain it, and agreeing because she was the most beautiful woman in any room was just plain foolish. So, what was it about Madeleine?
Was it because he knew her a little more than most of the women he invited into his castle? Was it because her attitude, her general character, and her immunity to his charm intrigued him? Or was it because he could see the benefit in having a bride?
“Dinnae dither too long,” Ryder said, getting up. “Ye could use an hour in the yard yerself before the council start arrivin’. Ye’re always more amenable after ye’ve swung a sword around for a while, and–”
Just then, the door creaked open. A pale, bespectacled face peered into the room, dark crescents beneath the eyes suggesting an equally sleepless night. Yet, Maddie wore her weariness well, somehow just as extraordinarily beautiful as she had been the day before.
Indeed, it was like, no matter what she did to hide it or dim it, her beauty radiated through regardless. Perhaps, it radiated all the more in protest of her trying to hide it. Which was probably why she’d fared so badly at those universities.
Ryder stopped dead, his jaw dropping.
“The guest I spoke of,” Oscar said, rising to his feet, if only to close his brother’s mouth.
Ryder dropped his chin to his chest in an awkward bow. “Good mornin’, miss.”
A bristle of annoyance shivered down Oscar’s spine as Maddie stepped further into the room, not wearing the dress he’d demanded, but a pair of tartan trews. The colors of his clan, too, as if someone had tailored them from a pair of his own, or from one of his men.
I should have cast ye out for yer defiance years ago, Betty-Ann.
On top, Maddie wore a loose shirt instead of a tight bodice, her glossy hair half-pinned, so that wavy tendrils framed her face. Feminine despite her attire, despite what he’d commanded last night.
“Good morning to you,” Maddie replied, straightening up.
Ryder blinked. “A Sassenach?”
“Guilty as charged.” Maddie smiled, walking over with growing confidence.
As much as Oscar resented the fact that she’d ignored his wishes, he couldn’t deny that she looked good in these new clothes.
They weren’t shapeless and unflattering like her scholarly attire, but tight and loose in all the right places, accentuating the shape of her thighs, the curve of feminine hips, the slight swell of her bosom, not flattened down by a waistcoat and whatever else she’d used to bind herself.
“Ryder, this is me bride, Lady Madeleine Huxley,” Oscar introduced with a sweep of his hand. “Lady Madeleine, this is me brother, Ryder.”
Ryder whirled around to stare at his brother. “Yer what ?”
“Me bride,” Oscar repeated, gesturing for Maddie to sit. “Help yerself to whatever takes yer fancy. If there’s naught here that inspires yer appetite, all ye need do is ask.”
Last night’s dread receded, the sight of her going some way toward soothing his concerns. They’d raise their heads again, Oscar had no doubt about that, but he’d savor the peace in his mind while it lasted. And he’d enjoy admiring the figure of his bride, too.
“But the council will be here in less than two hours,” Ryder choked, splitting his attention between his brother and Madeleine, his head whipping back and forth like he was watching a ball being tossed. “Ye’re supposed to be decidin’ what ye mean to say to Laird MacPhee.”
Oscar nodded toward Maddie, who was eyeing the small feast of breakfast foods. “This is me answer. Maybe, he’ll heed it this time, instead of sendin’ the same bloody betrothal offer every fortnight, like anythin’ has changed since the last.”
“It’s for an alliance, Oscar,” Ryder whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “It’s nae just a betrothal to his sister.”
Oscar shrugged. “And if he cannae accept an alliance without bindin’ me to that sister, then what sort of alliance is it really?
” He noted the glimmer of worry in his brother’s brown eyes, the same color as their mother’s.
“I dinnae trust the man, Ryder. Never have. He wants a union so he has one of his own inside me castle. I didnae have a good enough reason for him to stop perseverin’ before.
Now, we can tell him that I cannae wed his sister because I’m already betrothed and be done with it for good. ”
Popping a dried plum into her mouth, Maddie laughed softly, drawing the attention of the two men.
“And I thought you had just agreed out of the kindness of your heart,” she said, crossing one leg over the other.
“Well, I can’t say I’m not glad that our wedding will be as useful to you as it is to me, Laird Muir.
But it might have been polite to mention it last night, around the moment where you wanted me to beg. ”
Ryder coughed, a reddish hue coloring his neck. He’d never been too comfortable with such talk, his dedication to his work as a Man-at-Arms making him rather prim when it came to the more pleasurable things in life.
Someone awoke with her fangs intact...
Oscar smiled back. “The full benefits didnae occur to me until after ye’d gone to bathe, lass.
I had a lot to think about, alone in me study.
” He met the fire in her eyes, pleased to discover that it hadn’t sputtered out.
“Although, I see ye couldnae find a suitable dress to wear. Was there nothin’ to yer English tastes? ”
“It has nothing to do with being English, Laird Muir,” she replied, taking up a cup and sniffing the contents.
“There was nothing in the wardrobes to my taste. Forgive me, but I couldn’t quite come to terms with the thought of putting another woman’s dress upon my body.
Not knowing which woman it came from, rather. ”
Oscar quirked an eyebrow, while Ryder squirmed a little at his side.
“They’re nae trophies, lass. The lasses who visit this castle tend to leave with their gowns on.
” He resisted the urge to laugh as he watched her throat bob, giving away her true discomfort with the conversation.
“They’re spares, for guests who dinnae have aught to wear, or they were left behind by the wives of Lairds who have attended gatherings. ”
“Yes, well, it still doesn’t feel comfortable, to wear someone else’s things,” Maddie muttered, taking a hesitant sip of the drink.
Her eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise, her mouth kissing the cup for another sip.
“But I am truly glad that you’ve found a reason for yourself to make this marriage work. ”
He sat back down, finishing the piece of bread he’d been eating. “Did ye have some doubts as to why I agreed?”
“Curiosity, I would say,” she answered, her gaze locked with his as if Ryder was not in the room at all.
“Ah, ye must have remembered me tender heart from when I rescued wee Ellie, and prevented ye from breakin’ somethin’ by hurlin’ yerself out of that carriage,” he teased, watching closely for the faint flush of pink he was certain he’d seen the previous night.
A bonny color on that exquisite face. “Ye must’ve thought I was feelin’ charitable. ”
She gave a short, sharp laugh. “I don’t know what I thought, Laird Muir.
” Her expression softened for a moment. “All I know is how grateful I am, still. I am grateful for this, just as much as I’m grateful that you didn’t let me race after John Fitzwilliam that night.
I am no runner; I wouldn’t have made it very far. ”
“We could find out,” he said, brushing a crumb from his lips with the flat of his thumb. “I dinnae mind a chase.”
Her eyes widened, her lips savoring a deep gulp from the cup of pressed apple juice. As she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, she choked, “No, thank you. I don’t like to run, and I like being chased even less.”
Ryder cleared his throat as if to remind the pair that he was still present, though it was the second squeak of the door that sliced through the gathering tension.