by Wine, Mary
Cora might also be dead.
No, Rolfe would have found her body.
Rhedyn tried to find hope in that thought. She finished braiding her hair and pinning it up before there was a rap on the door. Rolfe gave her only a moment before he opened it.
“We searched a great deal of area,” Rolfe began. “There was no sign of Cora.”
Rhedyn nodded. “I’m grateful for yer time.”
“I sent word to yer brother that we have found ye,” Rolfe continued.
Rhedyn blinked a few times. “I’ve heard of the wedding.”
Rolfe shrugged. “Better late than never, I suppose. But considering Vychan is breathing and no one doubts he is yer father’s son, a wedding seems a good way to keep the blood from flowing when yer father dies.”
“Aye.” Rhedyn remarked, still half in thought.
Rolfe pulled a chair around and sat down in front of her. “It will prevent fighting, Rhedyn.”
“Oh…aye.” Rhedyn returned her full attention to Rolfe. She suddenly realized he’d closed the door behind him, making them very much alone.
It was improper.
“I have a husband now, Rolfe,” she enunciated each word. “I am grateful to ye for finding me and keeping me safe, but ye should return below.”
Rolfe kept their gazes fused. In his blue eyes, she could see him thinking something through. “Aye, I heard ye wed, but yer father did not give his blessing to the match.”
“The Church did.”
Rolfe’s expression remained stony. “But there are no contracts.”
“Couples wed without contracts, Rolfe.”
“No’ a daughter of a laird. An eldest daughter, as well.”
“Well, I have a brother now, the contracts are not so important as they were when ye came to negotiate with me father for my hand,” she explained slowly. “I’m glad we didn’t come to an agreement, for ye’d be disappointed now.”
Rolfe’s lips twitched into a small grin. He pointed at her. “That logical mind of yers is one reason I was seeking to make ye my bride. I like the way ye think matters through.”
Rhedyn felt a prickle of apprehension on her neck. Rolfe was settled on a point. She could see it in his eyes. But he was talking her around, trying to get her used to his way of thinking.
“Marriage with you was always a matter of business, Rhedyn,” Rolfe said. “The matter of gaining an alliance with the Lindsey is something me father has charged me with doing. Yer sister is too young, and with me father’s health failing, I cannot afford to wait for her to grow up.”
Rhedyn struggled to control her emotions. Rolfe was thinking his moves through with the finesse of a chess match. The only way to beat him was to apply logic to her arguments.
“My wedding was consummated,” Rhedyn made her words come out evenly in spite of the personal nature of the information. “As the next Laird of the Munro, ye need a pure bride.”
“I am nae a virgin,” Rolfe informed her. “Hence, it seems rather arrogant of me to insist ye be untouched. Ye are no’ a whore, that is all which is important and the fact that ye are nae carrying Buchanan’s babe.” His expression sharpened. “The mistress of the inn confirms ye are bleeding.”
Rhedyn felt the breath freeze in her chest. The hospitality so graciously given to her over the last few hours suddenly took on a more sinister nature.
Rolfe nodded. He appeared to consider the matter finished. He stood. “We’ll be heading back to Munro land now.”
“I won’t wed ye.”
Rolfe had turned toward the door. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Are ye going to say ye prefer a man who stole ye to one who went to yer father?”
There was distaste in his expression but determination in his eyes. He was frustrated and fighting the impulse to let her see it. She watched him master his temper and smooth out his expression.
“Women are more fragile when it comes to being abducted. The experience muddles yer thinking.” He nodded, seeming to come to some sort of decision. “Ye are safe in me company. Me men will see to it. After some rest in a safe, secure place, I expect ye will begin to think clearly. I went to yer father Rhedyn, in front of yer clan. That is how a man should approach a good woman.”
There was a warning in his tone. What made her clamp her mouth shut was the irritation she witnessed flickering in his eyes. She couldn’t escape inside the chamber. So, she clasped her hands together and held her tongue.
Rolfe Munro nodded once again. “I will always afford ye the respect due me wife, Rhedyn. In me home, ye shall be the mistress.”
To Rolfe, marriage was a business matter. She’d been raised to expect precisely that from a union, too. Now there was something burning in her heart which refused to allow her to fall back into the sort of arrangement Rolfe wanted with her. It flared up inside her, panic nipping at her as she rotated around, looking for any possibility of escape.
When she found none, tears flooded her eyes.
She had to get back to Buchanan.
The alternative was so unpalatable, she felt nauseous.
Many would agree with Rolfe that she’d suffered, that she wasn’t thinking clearly. That she needed to come to her senses.
What she needed was her husband…
But why?
The question begged to be asked. The woman she’d been just six months ago when Rolfe had come to her home to court her was still inside her, wondering what manner of transformation had taken place. It was her and yet, the person she was at that moment was different somehow.
Vastly different.
For there was no possible way for her to accept a future with Rolfe now. Two months ago, she could have seen it working out.
Nausea gripped her again, harder.
She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone’s kiss but Buchanan’s. The idea of Rolfe touching her filled her with icy dread instead of heat.
She wasn’t a wanton…
No, she was in love.
Strange the way such a small word made her feel. It made her want to smile. To twirl around in a hundred circles. She felt like she could fly.
But the reality was, she couldn’t. The walls around her began closing in, collapsing on her, smothering her joy. But the warmth in her chest persisted. It didn’t seem effected by Rolfe imprisoning her.
Instead, it fostered hope.
She’d survived on hope before. So now would be no exception.
*
“Riders!” Rory called out.
Buchanan turned his head to see the four men making their way across an expanse of rocky earth.
“Munro,” Graham observed.
Buchanan and his men had the high ground. The Munro Retainers were almost upon them before they pulled up. They looked between one another, clearly nervous.
“The Munro are nae fighting with the Mackenzies,” Buchanan spoke clearly.
One of the Munro jutted out his chin. “The Mackenzie raid Munro land. We’re here on the border to keep our crops safe from the likes of the Mackenzie.”
Buchanan felt his jaw clenching. “Me half-brother Iain visited wrongs against more than one clan.”
Two of the Munro spit on the ground. “Our laird sent his black soul to hell.”
“Are ye saying Rolfe Munro killed Iain?” Graham asked.
The Munro didn’t seem to be concerned about their lack of numbers compared to Buchanan’s men. One of them nodded.
“Aye. That bastard was bragging long and loudly about his raiding. Word made it to us, so we rode out to protect our own.”
There were stern looks among the Mackenzies. Buchanan shot his men a look of warning. “I am Laird of the Makenzie. Iain did not act with my permission. I will personally meet with Rolfe to discuss the matter.”
Rory suddenly whistled. He was sitting further up the road and pointed at something. Whatever it was, the four Munro Retainers grew nervous.
“Munro!” Rory yelled.
“Is that yer laird?” Bucha
nan asked the Retainers.
They clamped their mouths shut. A moment later, they were wheeling their horses around and kicking them.
“Now what was that about?” Graham asked in confusion.
“Let’s find out,” Buchanan said as he put his heels into the side of his mount. Something was needling him. His gut was telling him to go after the Munro.
So, he did.
The Munro Retainers were riding hard to catch up with the rest of their kin. Buchanan rode just as hard. The four reached their kin, but they’d barely had time to point at Buchanan and his men before the Mackenzie were too close for the Munro to avoid.
As Buchanan pulled his horse up, he saw the reason for the Munro Retainers flight. Rolfe Munro’s Retainers turned and faced the Mackenzie but not before Buchanan spied Rhedyn sitting on a mare near the back of the riders.
Buchanan felt something ignite inside of him. Fighting had never been something he craved.
Today appeared to be different.
*
Fate had once again made its choice known.
Rhedyn thought she imagined the Mackenzie riding toward them. But the Munro she rode with were getting nervous.
Very nervous.
She looked up, spying Buchanan. The hope which had refused to be smothered by Rolfe’s determination doubled.
“My husband is here for me,” she told Rolfe. “Let us not have bloodshed.”
Rolfe’s eyes narrowed. He was thinking again. She could see him contemplating the situation. “He stole ye, Rhedyn. How can I hand ye back to him and call meself an honorable man? How do I face yer father?”
“I wed him freely.”
“Ye weren’t in yer right mind, lass.” Rolfe shook his head. “Stealing a woman…it is no’ the act of an honorable man.”
“He did the wrong thing…for the right reasons, Rolfe,” she explained. “Sometimes a laird must choose an action for the sake of the bloodshed it will prevent.”
Rhedyn watched her words impact him. Rolfe closed his mouth before he was moving his horse around to face the oncoming Mackenzie. One of the Retainers leaned over and snatched the reins of her mare from her distracted grasp. He pulled her mare back as the Munro closed ranks around their laird.
She was so close and yet, fear was trying to gain a hold on her as she watched the way Rolfe appeared determined to hold her.
Fate couldn’t be so cruel…
The problem was, she knew that it could very well be, and there would be nothing she could do to prevent it.
Chapter Eight
“Rolfe Munro,” Buchanan greeted his fellow laird.
Rolfe nodded. “Laird Mackenzie.”
Rhedyn held onto the mane of her mare, setting her teeth into her lower lip to keep her mouth shut.
All she wanted to do was cry out.
She knew how to conduct herself, yet it seemed to be falling away like leaves in late autumn. There was only the man she loved and her need to be reunited with him.
“It seems I owe ye a debt of gratitude for finding me wife.” Buchanan wasted no more time in making it plain what he wanted.
“A wedding with no contracts,” Rolfe didn’t hesitate to make his opinion known. “I was in negotiations with her father last season.”
Buchanan leaned forward. “She is me wife now.”
“So,” Rolfe began. “I am to suffer yer half-brother raiding me land and now, ye stole the woman I planned to make me bride.”
The men around them were silent. The tension was tightening as the two faced off. No one was ignorant of the stakes.
“Iain,” Buchanan answered, “acted without me knowledge. I will pay whatever ye deem fit for the losses suffered. Let us agree to not continue the fighting.”
The Munro Retainers looked between themselves, many of them nodding agreement. But the sound of approaching horses distracted them all. The road dipped off to their right, which meant the approaching riders didn’t get a look at what was ahead of them.
Hamish and his men had to pull up to avoid colliding with the Mackenzie and the Munro. Horses screamed and men cursed as the dust was stirred up and the birds in the trees went scattering.
“Hamish!” Buchanan roared. “Ye’ll no’ be escaping me!”
Hamish was fighting to control his mount. The horse danced in a wide circle before Hamish got the animal under control. “Escape? Ye are the one who hid behind the walls of yer castle while putting me out!”
“Ye tried to murder a woman in the stable.” Buchanan pointed at him. “I should have hanged ye!”
Hamish smirked. He looked at Rhedyn, his features twisted with evil.
She was certain she’d see that expression until her dying day.
“But ye didn’t,” Hamish flung back at Buchanan. “Because ye are weak! That Lindsey witch has ye by the balls! The Mackenzie need a laird who is strong enough to lead them!” Hamish’s anger was making his steed nervous. The stallion fought against the tight hold he had on the reins, rearing up and snorting.
“Ye should have run Colum Lindsey through for causing Iain’s death!” Hamish declared. His men roared with approval.
“I’m the one who killed Iain Mackenzie,” Rolfe Munro raised his voice. “And I call it an end to pestilence. He was raiding me land.”
Hamish grunted. “A bit of raiding is harmless enough.”
Rolfe shook his head. “If he’d kept it to cattle, it would have been. But he took to raping.”
“That is a filthy lie!” Hamish declared.
Rolfe shook his head. “I saw it with me own eyes. And ye only further prove it with yer actions against women. Men should fight between men. No’ send a lass jumping into a river to avoid ye.”
The Munros and Mackenzies growled with approval.
Hamish scoffed. “She’s the daughter of a coward traitor. Her father told ye where to find Iain.”
“Donnach Munro heard Iain Mackenzie with his own ears,” Rolfe declared, “and followed him back to me own land to see if he’d sober up and turn for home. He set fire to a home and wouldn’t allow the family to escape unless the wife came out and whored for his men. I ran him through and will no’ apologize for it.”
Hamish was shocked silent for a long moment. He slowly shook his head, refusing to believe what he’d heard.
“No, no, ye…” Hamish pointed at Rolfe. “Ye want to wed this Lindsey bitch to secure a dowry, so ye will say anything to keep her father’s reputation sound.”
“I do nae deny I want to wed her,” Rolfe responded. “But it has naught to do with defending me land from raiders. Or that Iain was heard by one of me captains. There were plenty of witnesses, man. Laird Mackenzie is wise no’ to judge the case quickly.”
Rolfe dismounted and pulled his sword free. “If ye want a fight, I am yer man.”
Hamish wanted blood. The lust for it burned in his eyes. But he wasn’t planning on fighting fairly. He drew his sword and kicked his stead at the same time. The stallion screamed as it reared. When its hooves crashed down, Hamish released the tight hold he had on the reins and the animal bolted forward. Hamish swung his sword, intending to strike Rolfe from above.
Buchanan knocked him from the saddle. Leaping across the space between them as Hamish ventured by him. The two men hit the ground hard, rolling over one another in a tangle of limbs. The afternoon sun flashed off a long dagger as Hamish brought it up high, intent on driving the blade into Buchanan’s chest.
Rhedyn felt her heart stop.
Everything around her slowed down. Both men were straining, struggling against one another in deadly combat. It was harsh and vicious. Buchanan twisted away from the blade as he drove his fist into Hamish. Hamish heaved, tossing Buchanan off him and diving after him to lock his hands around Buchanan’s throat.
Rhedyn slipped from the saddle, unable to watch.
Rolfe caught her, hooking his arm around her midsection and lifting her off her feet. “Don’t distract him,” he whispered in her ear.
&nbs
p; Rhedyn bit down on her lower lip again. Rolfe deposited her behind him, blocking her with his body.
Buchanan kicked the dagger away. “Still taking the coward’s way, Hamish?”
“Strength is what matters!” Hamish declared.
He lunged toward Buchanan. But this time, Buchanan turned his body and hooked him around the throat. There was a crunch as Buchanan twisted the other man’s head. Hamish stiffened and dropped like a stone.
So quickly.
Just a moment and it was over.
Buchanan looked toward the men who had ridden with Hamish. They wheeled their horses around and kicked them into a run.
“Let them go,” Buchanan ordered. “But remember their faces.”
The Mackenzie nodded in approval. Buchanan turned, still breathing hard. There was a slice through the fabric of his shirt on his upper arm. Fresh blood was seeping into the cream-colored material.
For some reason, the blood struck her as a sign of life.
Of his victory.
She tried to duck around Rolfe, but the Munro laird stuck out his arm. Rhedyn ran into it and a moment later, Brawley was pulling her back. She tried to dig in, to resist, but the Munro Retainer simply lifted her off her feet.
“Let go of me!” she snarled.
The Munro Retainers didn’t listen to her. No, their obedience was for their laird. They formed a circle around her, making a wall with their bodies. It was all she might do to master the urge to fly into their backs like a startled bird who could only think of fleeing.
Panic wouldn’t help her.
And distracting Buchanan might just be the cause of his death.
She forced herself to stand in place, gripping her skirt as helplessness nearly choked her.
*
Rolfe moved forward.
Buchanan faced off with him. “As I said, I’ll pay the Munro what ye deem fitting.”
Rolfe looked into the distance where the men who had ridden with Hamish had disappeared. “There will be more trouble from that lot.”
“They are clanless,” Buchanan declared. “Ye will have to face the same sort of thing when yer father passes. Someone will covet what ye inherit.”
