Page 17

CHAPTER 17

The rest of the journey passed without incident, the hours blurring by, the light fading, the moon coming out as the skies cleared and the rain ceased. Gordon noticed none of it, lost in the storm of his thoughts.

Why does she keep smilin’ at me, laughin’ at me?

He was beginning to grow concerned that she didn’t quite understand the terms of what a marriage to him would mean. She’d have liberties, she’d be involved in his council—such as it was—but her behavior suggested she sought something less… practical.

This “ learning about one another” business would only disappoint her.

She thinks me a diamond in the rough, that if she shines me up and gives me a polish I’ll be somethin’ I’m nae.

It had taken such great effort for him to find the words to put her at ease earlier, making that supposed jest about the meal and the hand he’d cut off. Yet, she’d savored it, glowed with the promise of what it might mean, her eyes alight with the expectation of more of the same.

I’m nae gentle, lass. I’m nae amusin’, nae entertainin’, nae prone to good humor. If it’s a fairytale ye want, lass, ye’ve mistaken the hero.

The princess didn’t choose the monster, unless he was a prince in disguise. Gordon certainly wasn’t that.

Even when his thoughts turned to the matter of heirs, and how he and Anna would create them, his mind wandered to dark, wild places. He’d sworn it would be a perfunctory act, devoid of his tastes, but his imagination had other ideas. He saw himself in complete control of her, exploring and enjoying her in ways that would make a harlot gasp, walking a delicate line between pleasure and pain, teasing her until she couldn’t bear it, withholding though she begged, until he finally rewarded her obedience with the hard thrust of his…

A sound dragged him from his fevered reverie, drifting across the night-darkened fields and moors toward him. A sound that knocked his concerns aside, soothing him like healer’s medicine: the rumble and whisper of the sea, crashing against the cliffs.

Home.

The small entourage began the ascent to the rocky castle half an hour later, only a few flickers of candlelight giving away its location. Without them, anyone looking across the landscape would just see the cliffs, unaware that the Lyall stronghold was there at all.

“Open the gates!” Gordon shouted up to the concealed guard towers, the winding cliff path ending at the iron bars of the castle entrance. “Yer Laird has returned!”

Faces appeared above, cast in torchlight, voices mingling with the steady drumming of the waves far below. A moment later, the shriek of metal on metal heralded the Laird of Lyall’s triumphant return.

By the time Gordon and the two carriages had come to a standstill in the main courtyard, a crowd had gathered: castle residents in their nightclothes, come to see the miracle for themselves. Amongst them, moving forward, was Gordon’s uncle Matthew and his cousin.

“Ye only just left,” Matthew said with a grin, clapping his nephew on the shoulder. “How can ye be back so soon?”

Gordon shrugged. “I dinnae need to stay any longer.”

“Did ye get what ye went for?” Gordon’s m an-at-a rms asked, joining the family at the front of the crowd.

Gordon arched an eyebrow. “I dinnae just bring two extra carriages for me own amusement.”

“Well, where is she?” Sophia chirped, craning her neck to get a better look. Rather, the first look at the potential new Lady of Lyall.

“Dinnae crowd her,” Gordon warned, searching the faces for his other uncle, on his mother’s side. “Where’s Beathan? Still abed?”

Matthew shook his head. “Trouble at Castle MacScott. Skirmishers again. Went with a few of his best, but I daenae expect it’ll be long before he returns.”

“Does he need help?” Gordon bristled at the insult that anyone would dare to attack one of his kin, while swallowing down a prickle of guilt.

It was his fault that Beathan spent so much time at Castle Lyall instead of guarding his own territory and, with an absent Laird, brigands and opportunists inevitably grew bolder.

Matthew chuckled. “Ye cannae go ridin’ off when ye’ve just brought yer bride back. He’ll be fine.”

“Aye,” the m an-at-a rms, David, agreed with a grin and a discreet nod to all those watching. “It wouldnae look so good to them. They’ve been waitin’ a long while for this, and ye’d best believe that they’re goin’ to be followin’ the two of ye around all doe-eyed and gossipin’, swoonin’ over their Laird and Lady.”

Gordon was about to inform his man and family that the wedding wasn’t a certainty just yet, when the carriage door opened, and the crowd held their collective breath. Eager to see what manner of bride their Laird had brought home.

“Got tired of waitin’ for someone to open it for me,” came Anna’s cheery voice, pitched a note too high as if she were compensating for her nerves.

Gordon’s eye twitched. “I was preparin’ everyone.”

“For what?” Anna stepped down, forcing Gordon to rush to take her by the hand, so his own people wouldn’t think he had no manners at all. “I’m just a lass. I daenae have gills and scales, I daenae have a body covered in fur.” She paused, flashing a smile at him. “I daenae have horns and a tail. See, just an ordinary lass.”

“Ordinary?” Sophia interrupted, clapping her hands together excitedly. “M’Lady, there’s nothin’ ordinary about ye! Ye dinnae say she was such a beauty, Gordon.”

Hurrying forward, Sophia batted Gordon in the arm, while offering her other hand out to the newcomer.

“I dinnae ken,” he replied quietly, his throat tight.

If Anna heard, she didn’t show it.

“If ye can call me beautiful after all those hours of travelin’, ye must have terrible eyesight,” Anna said, chuckling. “I think a family of birds have made a home of me hair, and I’m certain anyone would think I’d been punched if they saw the darkness under me eyes.”

Sophia beamed, observing Anna as if she were a rare creature spotted in the gardens. “Ye dinnae say she was amusin’, either.”

“I dinnae ken,” Gordon repeated.

After all, she wasn’t at all as David had described her, when he’d informed Gordon about her.

Sophia’s enthusiasm seemed to loosen the leash on the other residents who’d gathered to see the new arrival. Bodies jostled, words of welcome rose up across the courtyard, hands reached out to touch Anna, to greet her, to make sure she was real.

Wide-eyed, Anna took a half step backward, an expression of panic tightening her features. Even in the low light, Gordon could see she’d gone very pale.

“Enough!” he roared, putting himself between his betrothed and his clan. “The hour is late and me bride is weary. She’ll rest now and meet ye properly tomorrow. So, go on—to yer beds.”

It took a certain type of man to be able to send an entire castle full of people to their beds with one command. They didn’t hesitate, backing away from the overwhelmed newcomer, filing off to return to their chambers, whispering excitedly to one another as they did.

“What a gentleman he is,” someone said with a cheery sigh.

“She’ll be the most protected lass in Scotland,” said another, in an envious tone.

“So pretty,” a third remarked. “The bairns will be beautiful, ye can tell.”

Gordon saw Anna’s eyes narrow at that last comment, but as he approached to take her arm, she raised her gaze to him with a smile, the annoyed expression gone.

“Thank ye, Gordon,” she said, expelling a strained breath. “I wasnae ready to face so many, so soon.”

Gordon began to lead her toward the castle. “That’s why ye should’ve stayed in the carriage.” He paused. “Ye’re nae at Castle MacTorrach now, lass. Ye cannae do as ye please.”

And I willnae have ye marryin’ me under false pretenses. Ye wanted to get to ken me—well, lass, here I am. It was better to lower her expectations now, rather than give her hope that he was anything other than he was: a devil, not a gentleman.

Her smile vanished, her grip on his arm slackening. “Aye,” she mumbled, “I’m definitely nae at home anymore.”

Once they were inside the entrance hall, where two maids waited eagerly for instruction, Anna pulled away from him altogether.

“I’m sure one of these fine lasses will show me to me chambers,” she said coolly, the merry shine gone from her beautiful green eyes. “Ye need nae trouble yerself over me again tonight.”

Gordon looked to the more responsible of the two maids. “Take her up. See to it that her belongings are carried in and her maid is shown where everythin’ is.”

“Aye, M’Laird.” The maid curtseyed deeply.

Without another word or a parting look to the woman who might be his wife one day soon, Gordon took his leave, heading off in search of peace and quiet—some place where Anna was not.

“I’m sorry I was misinformed,” David said, swirling a glass of whiskey, sniffing the rich aroma before he sipped. “I truly wasnae told she was such a bonny lass.”

Gordon, who rarely partook in whiskey but was making an exception, cast his m an-at-a rms a sharp look. “Do better to check yer information next time.”

“Next time?” David chuckled, reclining in the study’s armchair as if it was his own. “It doesnae inspire much faith if ye’re already contemplatin’ yer next marriage. Och, with all the battles we fight, she’ll be searchin’ for a new husband before ye have need of a new wife.”

Taking a sip of the peaty, smoky whiskey, Gordon waited until he felt the warmth of it slide down into his belly. “I mean in general, as ye well ken. What good is information if it’s incorrect?”

The study was stuffy with the heat of a roaring fire, prompting Gordon to rise from his chair, in front of his timeworn desk, and move toward the windows. He opened both, the latches shrieking, and closed his eye to the eager caress of the fresh, cool sea air.

The water lay still beneath moonlight, barely a whitecap to be seen.

“I suppose ye’ll want to start preparin’ for the weddin’,” David said, interrupting Gordon’s brief serenity. “How many can we expect from Castle MacTorrach? Truth be told, I daenae ken why ye dinnae marry her there and then, to save us the bother.”

Gordon took a deeper gulp of the whiskey. It raced like fire down his throat. Although he’d come to the study to get away from Anna, thoughts of her had followed him there. He found himself wondering how she was settling in, if she liked her chambers, if she was already considering returning to her home, if she’d realized—after one “ engagement” —that they were incompatible, after all.

I shouldnae have been so brusque. Indeed, I need her to end these five weeks as me bride.

“When will the weddin’ be, exactly?” David prodded.

“After this betrothal period,” Gordon replied. “Five weeks or so.”

With any luck.

David shifted in the armchair, the upholstery creaking. “Can I be frank with ye, M’Laird?”

“Me lack of permission has never stopped ye before.” Gordon continued to stare out at the millpond-still sea, curious as to what his m an-at-a rms was about to say.

David cleared his throat. “Ye ken I’m happy as anythin’ that ye’ve found yerself a lass to wed,” he began haltingly. “But are ye sure about all of this?”

“Ye were the one who suggested her.”

“Aye, I’m aware of that, but… in yer absence I’ve had a moment to think—which is new for me, I’ll admit,” David continued with a stiff laugh. “And I cannae help wonderin’ if it’s all a bit soon.”

Gordon turned, raising an eyebrow. “I’m three-and-thirty, David. If anythin’, it’s late.”

“That’s nae what I mean.” The Man-at-Arms raised his bulky frame, almost as large as his master’s, from the armchair and paused awkwardly. “It’s just… I’m worried that this is merely a way to distract yerself from the real problem.”

Gordon returned his gaze to the calming gleam of the sea, while a tempest thrashed within him. He knew precisely what David was referring to: the cretins who had kidnapped him, taken his eye, and almost cost him his position. The one who’d orchestrated it all was still out there somewhere, getting away with it.

“The problem is that I have nay heirs for the stability of me clan,” Gordon growled. “There is nay other concern.”

“So, ye’re nae at all bothered about that unknown enemy who tried to kill ye?” David replied tersely. “Ye were missin’ for an age, M’Laird. Nae to mention that they took ye from yer faither’s twentieth-year memorial celebrations—that wasnae a coincidence.”

Gordon clenched his whiskey glass so hard that it cracked. “Ye think I daenae ken that?”

“I think ye’re ignorin’ it because ye daenae want to be reminded,” David replied in a gentler tone. “But it has to be the same person who killed yer faither and braither, and considerin’ what they attempted with ye, it seems to me that they’re nae willin’ to stop there, that they’ve had a renewed taste for endin’ yer bloodline.”

“The bastards who killed me faither and braither are dead,” Gordon rasped. “I heard their confession, watched Matthew execute them; I saw their heads on the castle walls until just bone remained.”

And I ken they were just like the guards in that crumblin’ keep—mere heads of the hydra I cannae find. He wasn’t stupid; he’d put the pieces together too, but there was no use in hunting an enemy that had gone deep into hiding. The best thing he could do was to ensure that his bloodline did continue, whether he was removed from it or not.

“Subordinates, M’Laird,” David said, looking so afraid in the window’s reflection that Gordon almost pitied the man. “Ye must ken that.”

Gordon turned, leaning back against the sill. “What I ken is that it doesnae matter who they were, or what their standin’ was in the hierarchy of whoever had me and me family’s death on their mind.”

“Of course it matters!” David protested. “Someone out there is tryin’ to kill ye, to finish what they started twenty years ago!”

Gordon shrugged. “It could well be someone else, considerin’ how much time has passed between then and now.”

“Aye, and it also might be the same person,” David insisted, his expression tense.

“Whether it is or it isnae, I willnae give them the satisfaction of seein’ me flounder and fumble, tryin’ to find them, instead of concentratin’ on the future of me clan. Whoever they are, they win if I waste all me time on the past and daenae take steps to secure the future.” He downed what was left in the cracked glass. “I willnae become like those revenge-hungry bastards that lose their minds, devoted to one selfish cause. I’ll live me life instead, and whoever wants me, they can try to get me—it willnae end well for them.”

Moving to the decanters of whiskey at the rear of the room, refilling his glass, David shook his head slowly. “Things have changed now, M’Laird.” He paused. “Ye have yer bride to think of. I’ve nay doubt that ye can face any situation and come out alive—ye’ve proven it enough times—but… does this nae put her in danger? If she’s the key to that future ye speak of, and the continuation of yer blood, is she nae the biggest target of all?”

Of course, Gordon had considered that. It hadn’t left his mind, in truth, since he had ridden away from Castle MacTorrach with her. It was why he hadn’t insisted that she return to the carriage right away, feeling that there was nowhere safer for her to be than in his arms, on the back of his horse.

The incident in the inn had added to his wariness, and though it took a great deal to unsettle him, he was not exactly at ease, or oblivious to the mark that being his wife would put on Anna’s back.

He thought of her sweet, ceaseless chatter, the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her lips and the eagerness of her kiss, and felt his expression harden.

With an ember in his chest, adding fire to his voice, he replied, “If anyone tries to get to her, they must go through me. They can attempt to strike me down with a hail of arrows, or a blade to me heart, or poison in me whiskey, and I simply will nae die if she is in danger. If it’s a Devil they want, it’s a Devil they’ll get.”

The m an-at-a rms blinked, clearly unaccustomed to such intensity from his Laird. It was new to Gordon, too, who didn’t give rousing speeches, even before a battle. Yet, he knew every word to be true; he had let Anna choose him, he had brought her into the problem, and he would ensure, to his last breath if he had to, that she wouldn’t pay the ultimate price for her decision.

All of a sudden, David’s face cracked into a grin, nodding his head as he declared with a raised glass, “Good luck to them then. After that, Heaven kens they’ll need it.”