Highlander's Untamed Lass (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 3)

by Adamina Young

  Inside the keep, his father immediately pulled him into an empty chamber and closed the door. Calder had stepped down two years prior when a battle injury took most of the strength out of his right leg and left him bed-ridden for months. Lachlan had taken over during that time and when his father never recovered fully, he stayed in power. His father had accepted his fate and even seemed to enjoy his older years without the pressure of protecting a clan. He was an infinite source of wisdom.

  “Lachlan,” he said in a low voice. “I knew that ye are hurting, but ye must not let that anger show during the celebration. This is a time to bring the other clans closer together.”

  “Aye,” Lachlan said shortly. “And the Cunninghams and Donahues are more than welcome to enjoy our hospitality, but Errol Fenton and Gair Brisbane will not leave this keep until we’ve established an end to the feud. Quinn thought he could broker peace and he is dead for his efforts. They are both lucky that I am not joining in the fighting.”

  His father watched him intently with his aging eyes. For years, Calder MacFarlane had been a hard but fair Laird. He’d told Lachlan that he would set aside his own desires for the good of the clan. That’s exactly what Lachlan was doing now.

  “Tonight,” Calder started.

  “Tonight, I will be a gracious host to the four neighboring clans, but in the morn, we will begin the negotiations. If they doona submit, then I will go to the king and lay claim to our vengeance.”

  “And if ye do find a way to broker peace? Will ye set aside yer anger?”

  Personally, there was no way that Lachlan could forgive, but since he didn’t know which clan was responsible for Quinn’s death, he wouldn’t take action. For the good of his clan, he knew that the alliance of five was the only thing that kept their lands from being raided by others who wanted access to the river. If the Fentons and Brisbanes could cease their fighting, then Lachlan would set aside his need for revenge. “Aye,” he said shortly.

  There was a soft knock on the door and when it opened, Freya walked in and tried to smile at them both. “Father, may I have a moment with Lachlan?”

  “Aye. I will see ye both in the hall soon.” After kissing his daughter, Calder walked out and left them alone.

  Lachlan sighed and eyed his sister. Freya was younger than him by almost a decade. In looks, they shared their father’s dark, thick hair and their mother’s flashing green eyes. Normally a sweet and soft-spoken young woman, she’d recently become argumentative and difficult. When a previous marriage agreement fell through, Freya staunchly refused to entertain the idea of marrying another MacFarlane and Lachlan began to see why.

  She seemed to harbor feelings for Gair Brisbane, Laird of the Brisbane clan. Even during the feud, they’d hosted the clan leader a number of times and at some point, Freya had developed what Lachlan prayed was just a passing fancy. He couldn’t agree to wed his sister and Gair while there was still so much bloodshed, but his fears were validated when she aggressively defended Brisbane declaring that he and his men would never have taken Quinn’s life.

  Although he didn’t have proof, Lachlan was inclined to agree. Brisbane and Quinn knew each other well and was even once considered friends. Gair would never have murdered Quinn in cold blood and he wouldn’t have mistaken him for a Fenton in the heat of battle. Errol Fenton, on the other hand, was a snake. Calder had told his son that he had always suspected that Errol had killed his own brother to be the Laird. He would not hesitate to kill Quinn hoping that Lachlan would finally join the fighting.

  “Freya,” Lachlan said in a tired voice. “If ye are here to defend Brisbane…”

  “I am not. I’m here to tell ye that we have an additional guest. We have no more rooms available except for the chamber adjoining yours.” It was the chamber that would have been given to Lachlan’s wife when he did marry. “I need yer permission to house her there.”

  “Her?”

  “Errol Fenton.” She said his name stiffly and with unusual hatred. “He has brought his daughter with him. Sloane. I have made it clear that if ye should approve the arrangement, it doesna mean anything, although I doona believe it matters. She seems a wee bit touched in the head.”

  Sloane Fenton. Lachlan knew that Errol had a daughter only a year or two older than Freya, but he’d always kept her hidden away whenever Lachlan was forced to travel to Fenton’s lands. It surprised him to know that Errol had brought Sloane here.

  “’Tis fine,” Lachlan said finally. “No one will think anything of it during the chaos. Why do ye say that she is touched?”

  Freya cocked her head and seemed to consider the question. “She is pretty enough. Quiet at times, but she seems too youthful for her age. She is inquisitive and asks the most unusual questions. She said she would be fine sleeping in the storeroom if we didna have a place for her.”

  The storeroom? No wonder Freya thought the lass might be daft. He couldn’t imagine the daughter of a laird sleeping on sacks of potatoes and grains. “Verra well.” Lachlan had no time to spend on the strange lass. “Find a servant to see to it and then join us for dinner. I doona expect trouble, but I want ye to stay close to me or my guards to be on the safe side.”

  “Gair willna hurt me,” Freya said quietly.

  “Perhaps not, but Gair Brisbane is hardly the only man out there.” Dismissing his sister, he took a few private moments where he mourned his cousin then he braced himself and turned to join the others in the hall.

  Sloane Fenton was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who gathered in the great hall and she wasn’t immune to the number of pointed and hated stares her way. The Fenton keep and lands were only about half the size of those of the MacFarlane’s. She was never able to join any gatherings or festivities so she’d never seen so many people before. Whenever she questioned the reasoning behind her solitary life, her father simply told her it was to protect her.

  More than anything, she wanted to believe that. It was the only thing that comforted her, but now it perplexed her that her father would bring her here and now. Quinn MacFarlane was not the Laird, so she didn’t understand the large celebration of her life and she certainly didn’t understand why her father insisted that she pay her respects. Furthermore, she didn’t understand why so many people glared at her and her father. Had they done something wrong?

  Before people took their seats to dinner, people lined up between the tables to greet Lachlan MacFarlane first. When she and her father reached the MacFarlane Laird, her breath caught in her throat as she stared. Lachlan was huge. Compared to her father’s Highland warriors, he stood taller and broader. His dark hair fell wildly over his shoulders and framed his strong square face. Brilliant green irises tinged with silver pierced her as she walked up and she only dimly heard her father make the introduction. Power wrapped around him like an erotic lover and a sense of amusement clung to his lips as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. Mesmerized, she stared at those sensuous lips when they moved although, she didn’t hear a word he’d said. A strange tingling began low in her body, a sensation she’d never felt before and she pressed a hand to her stomach.

  Suddenly, she realized that Lachlan was staring at her expectantly. Pain shot through her body as her father gripped her arm and shook her. “I am sorry for yer loss,” she whispered before she swallowed hard.

  Errol sighed beside her in obvious aggravation. “Forgive my daughter. This is her first time traveling from Fenton lands and I am afraid that she is struck by the sheer size of the MacFarlane clan.”

  Lachlan nodded although his gaze swept over her curiously. “Lady Sloane, I thank ye for yer condolences. Ye and yer father are welcome to join us at our table.”

  “Actually,” Errol said smoothly. “I believe Sloane has taken a liking to yer sister. Would it be all right, my dear Lady Freya, if Sloane sat with ye?”

  Puzzled, Sloane cast a shy look at the petite woman. They’d only casually exchanged words. The woman looked equally confused, but she nodded her consent. He
r father all but pushed her toward the woman. “I am sorry,” Sloane whispered to Freya as they drew away from the crowd and took their seats. “I doona know why my father said that.”

  “’Tis no worry,” Freya said stiffly. “We can make room.” Leaning over, she quietly shared a word with a pretty brunette who got up from the table and moved.

  “I didna mean to complicate things. I can sit elsewhere,” Sloane said as guilt clawed at her. The last thing that she wanted to do was create difficulties. Even though she never shared a meal in the dining hall before, she knew that she was creating upheaval.

  “Ye are an odd one, are ye not?” Freya muttered, but Sloane heard it and reddened even more. As they sat down, Freya shook her head. “I apologize for that. My cousin’s death has put me in a mood.”

  “’Tis understandable.” Sloane folded her hands in her lap and tried to look as small as possible. “I heard yer mother say that ye and yer cousin were close. I doona know what that is like, but I know it must be difficult to lose someone that ye love.”

  Freya narrowed her eyes. She shared her brother’s piercing eyes and Sloane couldn’t help but look over quickly in the MacFarlane laird’s direction. He was watching her. Her belly fluttered with nerves.

  “Ye doona have a cousin that ye are close to?”

  “I doona have a cousin,” Sloane admitted. “I have an uncle, but he spends most of his time traveling. We are not close, although he does visit with me when he returns to our lands.”

  “Then a friend, perhaps.”

  Sloane thought about the women who worked in the keep. They had become her friends. It would break her heart a thousand times over if anything happened to them, but she’d come to learn that her father didn’t approve of her calling the servants friends. Perhaps they felt the same here. “No. I doona have any of those either.”

  Freya’s eyes flared in surprise, but she didn’t offer any follow-up questions, much to Sloane’s relief. Wine was served with a lavish dinner and while she was not accustomed to large meals, she’d snuck her fair share of wine at home and she drank her share here to settle her nervous stomach. Despite its warming effect, her belly squeezed with anxiety. There was a time as a child when she dreamed of big events and loud crowds, but that was a long time ago. Now, she just wanted to duck under the table and hide.

  Searching for a familiar face, she looked around the table. Her father’s closest guards were seated at the end of the table where they eyed the other men seated around them with disdain. They had no reason to look after her. Most of them barely even knew her. Ness, her father’s youngest brother and the heir to the Fenton clan, was seated by her father. While Errol ignored her, Ness offered her a small smile. Her uncle, older than her by nearly a decade, was the only one to go out of his way to be kind to her although he spent most of his time traveling.

  Letting that smile comfort her, Sloane ate her dinner slowly and quietly. Freya, apparently having given up on drawing Sloane out in conversation, mostly ignored her as did the rest of the table.

  Lachlan MacFarlane was the exception.

  Every time that she dared look at the man, he seemed to know and his gaze quickly flitted back to her. As he watched her, Sloane’s body both heated and shivered in a reaction that she didn’t understand. His expression was unreadable. He neither smiled nor glowered at her and unlike her, he didn’t seem uncomfortable when she caught him watching her. Sloane had a feeling that Lachlan MacFarlane did what he wanted with no apologies.

  The only other person who seemed to notice was her father. A strange glee glinted in his eyes, and she shyly smiled at him. For most of her life, she sought ways to gain her father’s approval. She didn’t know what she was doing now to make him happy, but it was a rare moment for her and she allowed herself to finally relax and try to enjoy the dinner despite the somber mood.

  After dinner, her father gave her no indication that she was allowed to join in the evening activities, so she made her way to her appointed chambers. To her surprise, she wasn’t alone in the hall.

  Lachlan stood outside the door of the chamber next to hers. Starkly, she wondered if it was his chambers that shared the adjoining door in her room. “Laird MacFarlane?” she asked softly.

  Turning his head, he studied her almost lazily. “Lady Sloane.”

  “Is that yer room?” His eyes widened, and she quickly backtracked. Emmeline, the head servant at the keep, once told her that her demanding questions might seem inappropriate. “Forgive me. I meant to ask ye more gently than that.”

  “Aye, ’tis my room,” he muttered. “Are ye always so forward?”

  “Sometimes.” Emmeline taught her to always go with the truth. “Forgive me if I have things confused, but shouldna yer wife be sharing this room?”

  “I am not married.”

  “Aye, but a woman who is not yer wife shouldna be in this room.” That should clarify things. She frowned. “I must move my things immediately. Is there another room available? I am comfortable sleeping elsewhere.”

  “We were not counting on yer company, Lady Sloane, and this was the only room available.” He smiled slowly and she felt her whole body warm. “Ye have nothing to worry about. I have no intentions of using the door between our chambers. I will keep it locked if ye wish.”

  “But it only locks on yer side,” she pointed out. “That doesna protect me. It only protects ye. That hardly seems fair.”

  “’Tis a wife’s duty to always be available for her husband.”

  Her temper spiked, but she struggled to tame it. It would not do to anger her host, especially after he’d just lost someone dear to him. “’Tis also a husband’s duty to protect his wife. How can a husband do that if a woman cannae lock her own doors?”“A woman shouldna need protection from her husband,” he pointed out.

  Immediately, her thoughts flew to the bruises that she’d seen on her friends. They were almost always formed at the hands of their husbands. “If ye believe that then perhaps ye doona understand much about the institute of marriage.”

  “Lady Sloane.” Slowly, he walked toward her. She had half a mind to flee into her chambers, but as she’d just pointed out, it would hardly protect her from him, so she lifted her chin and met his gaze. When he stopped just in front of her, his eyes blazed with anger.

  “Perhaps I should make myself verra clear here. I doona manhandle the women of my keep and I wouldna manhandle my wife. I doona know what ’tis like on Fenton lands, but I doona have the patience for men who beat those weaker than themselves.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest. “I doona mean to offend ye, Laird MacFarlane. I simply want to point out that when ye do marry, perhaps ye should try and see things from her point of view. A lock gives her power, even if she never uses it. Have a good evening.” Before she said anything else that might get her in trouble, Sloane opened her door and fled inside.It was a full minute before she heard Lachlan’s footsteps fading away.

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  About the Author

  Since she was a child, Adamina was inspired by stories of true love overcoming every obstacle! So, she started writing her first book at the age of 23!

  A few years later, she met her own “Highlander” During their honeymoon, they decided to travel to Scotland. And then everything changed...

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  This book is a work of fiction. Some of the characters are real historical figures, but the others exist only in the imagination of the author. All events in this book are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.