Page 1 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

Lily moved gently between carts and people, taking her time to stop and greet a few familiar faces. The market was alive with the morning rush. The sun shone brightly overhead, and the scent of meats, fabrics, and fruits mingled in the air.

Her grey shawl was pulled tight around her face, partly to protect her from the sun but also to avoid having to greet even more people than she already did.

This was supposed to be a quick trip for a few essentials she needed back home.

Now she had spent the better part of an hour greeting people who felt it their responsibility to talk to her.

“I ken yer maither would be very happy to see how well ye’re doing in her absence,” a well-meaning older man had commented.

Of course, Lily had only given a nod in response. It has been ten years since her mother passed. She had to be doing something else by now, instead of just looking down at her daughters all the time. Didn’t they say heaven had a choir? Perhaps her mother had joined the angels in singing.

Lily moved swiftly, her feet barely touching the ground. She needed to hurry and leave the market as soon as possible.

Her first stop was at one of her regular sellers, a herbalist. She studied the bundles of dried roots on his table, her hand clutching her basket hard.

The herbalist, an older man with greying hair on both sides of his head and a slightly crooked nose, looked up at her. “Ye’ll need some of these to treat fever and head problems. Perhaps a little more of that, too.” He gestured toward another bundle of roots on the far side of the table.

“I ken,” Lily replied, crouching slightly to inspect the bundles. “But I need something strong and clean. Something that will last days. That one, maybe.”

The herbalist’s eyes followed her outstretched hands to another bundle of slightly fresher-looking herbs.

“Two shillings,” he grunted almost immediately.

“Two is too much for roots that have sat out all week,” she said with a tilt of her head. “One shilling.”

“One is too low, miss.”

“I’ll give ye one and a half.”

The man narrowed his eyes, then gave a small nod. “Aye, fine.”

She handed over the coins and watched him grab the roots she had selected. As he wrapped them into a small leather pouch, she heard the shuffle of boots behind her.

“Lady MacRay?”

She didn’t turn as she adjusted her shawl. She was Lady Nothing , so perhaps they were referring to someone else. Someone beside her.

“Lady MacRay?” the voice came again, closer now. The tone was more certain, and something told her no one else was beside her.

She looked over her shoulder and noted the two tall and domineering men standing behind her.

Guards. Or men-at-arms.

She swallowed, a polite smile playing on her lips. “I am afraid ye’ve got the wrong lass, gentlemen. I am nay lady.”

The herbalist handed her the bundle, and she took it with a small word of thanks. Before the men could say anything else, she stepped away, melting back into the crowd.

The next stall she stopped at was filled with fruits. The smell of ripe pears and tart apples filled her nose as she stepped closer, giving a brief nod to the woman arranging plums in a basket.

“Marjorie,” she greeted warmly.

Marjorie, a younger blonde woman, looked up, a growing smile on her face. “Miss? Ye’re here?”

Lily smiled. “How is Carson? I suppose his fever has gone down?”

Marjorie smiled widely. “Aye, he’s better now, thanks to ye. Would ye like to see him?”

Lily gave a small nod and stepped into the rear of the stall. A small boy sat on a low stool, chewing a strip of dried apple. His eyes lit up when he saw her.

“Look at ye,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Still eating like ye’ve got a hollow leg.”

Carson giggled. “Ma says I’m stronger now.”

“Aye, ye look it. And I am certain ye’ll be outrunning yer da by next month.”

She reached out and touched his brow, finding it cool to the touch. Satisfied, she stood back up. Marjorie handed her a cloth bag heavy with fruit.

Lily blinked at the weight. “That’s too much. I only asked for a handful.”

Marjorie waved her hand. “Ye saved me boy. That’s worth far more than fruit.”

“I’ll still pay,” Lily insisted, reaching for her pouch.

“Nay. Nae a coin.”

Lily hesitated, then placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “Thank ye, truly.”

She stepped out into the brightness of the square, her heart warm, when the same heavy boots thudded behind her again.

“Lady MacRay,” the same voice called again, this time edged with frustration.

She turned sharply. “How many times must I say it? I am nae married!”

The man stepped forward, flanked by his partner. Their unfamiliar crests gleamed against their dark belts. “The Laird said ye might say that. He said ye liked to jest.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What laird?”

“The one who’s asked for ye.”

“I’ve nay business with any laird.”

“Ye do now.”

She took a step back, clutching her basket tight. “Leave me be.”

One guard moved quicker than she expected and grabbed her arm. The other seized her shawl.

“Unhand me!” she cried, struggling. “I said, unhand me this instant!”

Voices started to scream in the market square, but no one dared step forward. The guards dragged her past the stalls and down the narrow path that led into the woods beyond.

She twisted and fought, her voice hoarse from shouting. The trees swallowed them, and sunlight cut sharply through the branches. They didn’t speak or give her any response. They just pulled her along until the road opened into a quiet clearing. Then, they let go.

She stumbled, catching herself on unsteady feet. Her breath caught. A man stood ahead, leaning against a tree.

Nay.

He looked older than she remembered. Taller too. His jaw looked sharper, and his shoulders, for some reason, looked broader. The boy she remembered on her father’s ship was gone. His eyes, however, remained unchanged. As he stepped forward, she dug her feet into the soft soil.

“Did ye miss me, darling?” he asked, his voice smooth.

Lily swallowed hard, her heart thudding against her ribs.

Alasdair had not seen her in nearly ten years. Not since the day he snuck off the ship, silent as the calm waters, leaving behind the pirate life, the wind… and her. Now, she stood before him again, menacing and angry.

She was not the girl he remembered. No, the girl was gone. The woman in her place had curves where there had been none. Her waist was fuller. She had grown even more into her face, and her skin looked shinier for some reason. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders as if it had a mind of its own.

But her eyes… yes, those eyes were the same. The same shade of blue he remembered. The same sharpness that could almost cut glass. Only the venom behind them was new, as she stared at him hard like her gaze could turn him into dust.

He let his gaze linger a second longer before he spoke again.

“It has been long, would ye nae say, wife?”

Her eyes narrowed at the word. “Call me that again, and I will slap the words out of yer mouth.”

Nathan, one of the guards, stepped forward with his hand raised to strike.

Alasdair lifted one finger and shot him a glare. “Nay. Unless ye want to lose yer arm.”

When the guard stilled and retreated, Alasdair turned back to her, a ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth. “Hard to believe that the sweet daughter of Captain Blackwood has this much spite in her.”

Her jaw clenched. “Aye, well, there are also consequences for mentioning me faither’s name.”

He turned his head slightly toward Nathan. “Quite lovely, would ye nae say?”

“Quite,” Nathan uttered, nothing but frustration behind his pale blue eyes.

Alasdair looked back at her, tilting his head just a little. “Is that a reason to greet me? Did ye nae miss me, Lily?”

She blinked, then smiled as wide as possible. “Ye must forgive me, Alasdair. Because I thought—nay, hoped —that ye were dead.”

That hit him in the gut, but he didn’t let it show. His eyes roamed down her body again, and this time, she noticed.

She crossed her arms fast, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “I daenae ken what this is, what ye’ve come here to do with yer henchmen, but I want nothing to do with it. And nothing to do with ye.”

“But I told ye I’d return.”

“Ye forgot to mention it would take ten years.”

He shrugged. “I deserve that. But ye ken I was never truly gone. A part of ye must have ken deep down that I was simply traveling and would return.”

She scoffed. “I couldnae care less if I tried.”

Nathan stepped forward again. “Do ye want us to gag her, me Laird? She is quite the disrespectful one.”

Lily turned her gaze on him, sharp as a blade. “I am a recognized healer in this village,” she said, her voice just as cold. “Ye’ll treat me with respect.”

Alasdair’s lips twitched. She really had grown.

Then, something flickered in her eyes. Realization.

“Wait,” she asked, her voice low and firm, “why is he calling ye me Laird ?”

He smiled. “Because I am a laird.”

She laughed. “Ye werenae even the third in command when ye worked under me faither. Ye ken well that Captain Blackwood never trusted ye with anything.”

“He did trust me enough to marry off his daughter to me.”

“That was a mistake on me part,” she snapped. “I didnae ken I was marrying a bastard.”

One of the younger guards stepped toward her, anger on his face. Alasdair raised a hand again, making him stop with just a glance.

“Is that so?” he said quietly, turning back to her.

“Aye. I was a child. I used to think that all pirates were handsome.”

His grin returned. “Did ye now?”

She gave a light laugh, bitter at the edges. “Still do, in fact. Pirates, I respect. At least they daenae pretend to be more than they are. Lairds, on the other hand? I hate them.”

Alasdair narrowed his eyes at her. It was hard to imagine the woman standing before him now was the meek and gentle lass he had handfasted a decade ago. “Ye have really changed, have ye nae?”

She crossed her arms again, the coldness in her eyes completely unrelenting as the gentle wind tugged at her hair. “Aye, a woman has to when she alone must care for her family, let alone a whole village. But ye have changed, too, apparently. So tell me, why are they calling ye a laird?”

“Ye will speak to our Laird with respect!” the younger guard snapped, his voice firm.

“That is the lady of yer clan,” Alasdair stated, shooting him a glare. “If ye disrespect her again, I’ll deal with ye personally, lad.” Then, he took a step closer to her. “Because I was always the spare. Son of the MacRay line. I just took a break, and that happened to be on yer faither’s ship.”

“Well, good for ye,” she said, turning on her heel. “But ye’re still nae me husband. I daenae want one anyway.”

However, before she could take another step away from him, he reached for her wrist.

She froze.

“I daenae think ye understand me, wife.” His voice was low and steady, a sharp contrast to the playful tone from earlier. “This isnae about what ye want or daenae want. This is about the safety of me people. And ye are coming with me, whether ye like it or nae.”

Her eyes met his, and her throat worked around a swallow.

He didn’t smile this time. He didn’t need to.

And he was sure she could tell.