My Highland Warrior (Warriors of the Highlands Book 1)

by Miriam Minger

  With a sharp cry, Magdalene stomped on Euna’s foot and wrested free of Donella, only to find herself suddenly swept into Gabriel’s arms, though she wondered at once about his injury.

  Had she just seen a flicker of pain? When she thought of how he’d pulled her from the fountain at the convent, and thrown her over his shoulder in her room, and lifted her onto a horse and off again so many times, no wonder his healing wound was plaguing him. Yet if he felt any discomfort, he gave no further sign of it as he glanced at the two women.

  “Put her slippers on her, but carefully so you dinna hurt her. I dinna want her tae catch a chill from bare feet.”

  At once his request was obliged, and now it was Magdalene who winced with no bandages to protect her skin from the slippers even though the leather was buttery soft.

  “Forgive me, Laird, we tried tae be gentle,” began Euna, only to have Gabriel shake his head.

  “It seems we’re both a wee bit worse for my shoulder and her poor feet, but the day is too fine tae stay indoors any longer. First I’ll take you upstairs, Maggie, so you can see the wondrous view God created.”

  He carried her from the room, Gabriel holding her so tightly that Magdalene had no hope of struggling out of his embrace. His warm breath fanning her cheek, he uttered a word of thanks to the maidservant making the bed in what appeared a small, cramped room—and she realized that must have been where Gabriel had spent the night.

  Just across the hall from her! No wonder he had heard Rhona cry out in terror and come to stand in the doorway so quickly.

  Magdalene’s heart sank that mayhap he had seen and heard more than she had feared, but there was nothing to be done about it. Yet that might explain why he had treated her so differently today…as if he had glimpsed a side of her that had led him to believe she might possess more of her wits than he’d been told.

  Och, now she’d done it! With more reason than ever to intensify her efforts, she began to wriggle in his arms but to no avail. He only held her that much more closely against him.

  “There’s no use, Maggie, I’ll not let you go,” he murmured in that same soothing voice that didn’t lull her this time, but only infuriated her.

  Flustered her, too, the heavily muscled strength of his arms making her feel that strange shivery sensation again in spite of her mutinous resolve. She was so overcome by the closeness of him, the heat of his body radiating through his clothing—through her clothing!—that she scarcely noticed he had ducked into a stairway until he began to lunge up the circular steps.

  Was her weight like nothing to him? He moved with such strength and power that her face grew warm all over again, the two of them winding around and around until she felt dizzy and closed her eyes.

  The stairway smelled dank and musty, which didn’t help matters, and now her stomach began to roil. Would they never reach where he was taking her? She had never liked heights, no, not since she had been a young girl and fallen from a tree she’d climbed, the wind knocked out of her and her ankle twisted—

  “Open your eyes, Maggie.”

  His low command coming at the same moment they stopped climbing, a heavy door creaking open, she did so, but not because he’d bade her.

  Relief flooded her at the fresh air fanning her flushed face and filling her lungs. She looked around her, her eyes widening in amazement.

  Never before had she beheld such a sight as the mountains soaring to the north, east, and west, their rugged peaks piercing the brilliant blue sky. And over there…how had she not noticed before when she’d first glimpsed the castle? A lough not too far in the distance, its surface sparkling in the sunlight—truly, one of her favorite sights. All silvery and gold and shimmering like diamonds—

  “You see? I knew you’d like it,” Gabriel’s husky voice interrupted the delight she felt, making Magdalene realize with a start just where they were standing.

  Atop one of the castle’s four square towers and surrounded by parapets where she could just imagine archers raining flame-tipped arrows down upon attacking enemies—Lord, help her, they were up so high. So high!

  “Maggie?”

  She’d gulped, feeling the blood drain from her face as Gabriel set her down to look closely at her.

  “Och, wife, do you have a fear of heights?”

  Wife. Just to hear him again call her by that unwanted title made her regain some of her equilibrium, though a glance over her shoulder at the bailey so far below made her knees suddenly feel weak. The next thing she knew, Magdalene was clutching wildly at his tunic, not having to feign lunacy at all in her desperation to be gone from their lofty overlook.

  “No, no, no…please—oh!” Magdalene had no more glimpsed the raw concern in Gabriel’s dark eyes than he swept her once more off her feet and ducked with her back into the stairwell.

  Her relief so intense that she could but cling to him, she held on tight as he wound down the steps, taking them two at a time. It seemed only a moment and they had reached the floor where they slept, but after ducking into the hallway, he moved toward the main steps and not toward the bedchamber.

  “You need something tae drink…mayhap some food.”

  She said nothing, feeling more like herself now that they had escaped the tower roof and that awful circular stairwell that reeked of mold and damp.

  Realizing she still held onto his tunic, she immediately let go and heard him sigh, though she didn’t hazard a glance at his face. Instead, she closed her eyes tightly again and waited for when he would set her down—please, set her down.

  She didn’t want to be so close to him.

  She didn’t want to feel the stirring heat of his body through her gown or think of the alarm in his eyes when he’d realized she was near to collapsing from fear.

  She didn’t want to think that mayhap he wasn’t so brutish after all, his solicitous treatment of her more the man he might be rather than the callous one she imagined—och, what was coming over her?

  She had to do something—anything to keep him convinced that she wasn’t sane at all, and so mercurial that he would never know what to expect from her. Drawing a deep breath, Magdalene threw her head back and began to howl like a feral dog at the moon, so throaty and loud that she heard shocked gasps all around them.

  Only then did she open her eyes to see that Gabriel had carried her into the great hall, which was filled with people seated on benches at trestle tables and partaking of a midday meal.

  Men with their cups raised to their mouths lowered them in disbelief as she took another deep breath and howled again, Gabriel’s arms stiffening around her.

  Children gaped, while their flustered mothers attempted to cover their ears.

  A serving woman dropped her tray to the floor with a clatter.

  Still Gabriel carried her deeper into the cavernous room until they reached a massive fireplace where logs crackled and burned; only then did he plop her down quite roughly into a carved chair—aye, just as she’d thought! His care and concern had only been a ruse, her cruel brother’s choice for a husband once again showing his true colors.

  How could Gabriel be anything different than Seoras? He wouldn’t have risen so high in her brother’s service if he wasn’t as ruthless, as hard-hearted.

  Now Magdalene took so great a breath that she felt dizzy. She jumped up from the chair and howled as loudly as she could muster while Gabriel’s expression grew all the darker.

  What was he going to do? Strike her? Throw her over his shoulder and carry her right back upstairs and dump her into her room? Aye, that’s how men of his ilk treated their wives. That’s how Debora had been treated and worse—och, her poor wretched sister!

  Out of the corner of her eye, Magdalene saw several of Gabriel’s warriors even cross themselves—including that giant oaf, Finlay, who had thwarted her escape the other night. They rose from their tables to leave the hall, but a sharp gesture from Gabriel made everyone freeze in place.

  No one moving.

  No one speakin
g.

  Not one utterance to be heard except for Magdalene throwing her head back to howl one last time, for truly, she felt too out of breath to continue. She collapsed into the chair and braced herself for Gabriel’s next move, but a tinier howl just behind her made her gasp and twist around to see little Rhona imitating her.

  And quite ably, too, except for erupting the next instant into giggles that seemed to dispel the air of tension as if sunlight had burst into the windowless hall.

  “Do it again, Mama, do it again!”

  Smiling in spite of herself, Magdalene didn’t have the heart to ignore the child, who had run up to the chair and grabbed her arm. Together, the two of them threw back their heads and howled in unison while laughter rippled across the hall, but nothing could have surprised her more than the sound of Gabriel chuckling.

  Chuckling!

  Chapter 10

  “Papa, you do it, too!” cried Rhona in between giggles that left her cherub’s face flushed pink and her dark curls bobbing as she fairly danced beside the chair.

  If Magdalene had felt surprised a moment ago, she couldn’t have been more amazed when Gabriel obliged his niece and emitted a howl so full-throated and drawn out that once again, the hall fell silent.

  Everyone watching the astonishing display while Rhona ran laughing toward Gabriel, who swung the child up into his arms and hugged her tightly.

  No longer howling but laughing, too, a warm, robust sound that made Magdalene blush just to hear it, never having thought such a thing was possible from him.

  Clearly he loved Rhona to indulge her so, but why wouldn’t he? They were blood kin after all, while she was an unwanted lunatic wife foisted upon him by her brother, so why couldn’t he just let her return to the convent?

  The unjustness of it all overwhelmed Magdalene so suddenly that tears bit her eyes, but she blinked away the moisture when she saw that Gabriel was looking at her.

  No longer laughing, though he gave Rhona another hug before putting her down as an older woman rushed forward to claim her.

  “Has Rhona eaten, Grania?” he queried, never taking his eyes from Magdalene’s face, much to her discomfort.

  “Not yet, Laird, we were just sitting down over there”—Grania nodded to a nearby table where Magdalene saw that Keira sat waiting—“when you and your wife came into the hall.”

  “Join us, then.”

  As Grania nodded and waved for Keira to come over to them, Magdalene got a good look at the nurse who had called her a madwoman last night—aye, she’d heard her well enough over the rain and thunder.

  Grania might be old, but she possessed a wiry ease of movement that belied her advancing years. Her face, too, bore few wrinkles, and Magdalene could tell from her fine features and lively hazel eyes that once she must have been quite beautiful.

  Magdalene had overheard as well that the woman had tended to Gabriel’s father and to Gabriel and his brother, Malcolm, so Grania had long held a place of trust and great responsibility in the MacLachlans’ household. With practiced efficiency, the nurse shepherded the two girls to the table where Gabriel had indicated for them to sit, yet still his gaze never left Magdalene—which made her bristle.

  Why was he staring at her so? One moment glowering at her and the next moment laughing so uproariously, and then as somber as a priest. Who was the mad one here?

  “Let me move you closer tae the table, Maggie.”

  He’d strode over to her faster than she could blink as if to prevent her from protesting, and picked up the chair with her in it and deposited it at the end of the table. Meanwhile, Grania, Keira, and Rhona settled themselves on the bench to one side and Gabriel sat down on the other side. At once it seemed that they were surrounded by servants bearing steaming bowls of what smelled to Magdalene like venison stew, her stomach growling so noisily that Rhona burst into fresh giggles.

  “Did you hear her, Papa? Her tummy sounds just like mine!”

  The child was so sweet and grinned at Magdalene with such guileless affection that she couldn’t help throwing her a quick smile. Yet she sobered when she saw again that Gabriel was staring at her.

  And not just staring, but studying her…closely. Too closely.

  Magdalene felt a nervous shiver as a fragrant bowl of stew, studded with chunks of turnips and carrots, was placed in front of her. The food smelled wonderful and she was ravenous, but now she felt almost too anxious to eat.

  What had she done to warrant such scrutiny from him? Her howling should have alarmed him, angered him, embarrassed him even in front of his clansmen, and she was certain that her wild spectacle had earned the desired effect.

  Everything had been going perfectly until Rhona had chimed in, and then Gabriel had begun to howl, which Magdalene still couldn’t believe though she had seen it with her own eyes—

  “Fool,” she whispered vehemently to herself as everyone else at the table dug with gusto into their food.

  Her eyes. Gabriel had seen her tears and no doubt wondered at them, but did lunatics not cry? Mayhap it had simply been the timing of her tears that had startled him—och, it wasn’t for her to wonder what the man might be thinking! Let him stare at her until the cows came home, she was hungry. She picked up her spoon and dug into her stew as well, and so big a mouthful that she began to choke.

  “Papa, look!” cried Keira, who all along had appeared as wary of Magdalene as Rhona was entranced by her.

  “Just a wee bit of coughing, nothing tae fear,” came Gabriel’s response as he leaned over and gave Magdalene a sharp whack between her shoulder blades.

  Out from her throat flew a chunk of turnip that landed right in the middle of the table, Keira crying out in horrified surprise while Rhona pointed, her eyes as round as her mouth.

  “Laird Gabriel is your uncle, Keira, not your papa,” chided Grania, who seemed as unperturbed by Magdalene’s near choking as if she had merely sneezed. “The same goes for you, Rhona. It’s fanciful nonsense and we’ve had enough of it, do you hear me? And that one there is no more your mama than I’m the lady of MacLachlan Castle, so you’ll not be calling her as such anymore. Now eat your dinner and leave the poor mad thing tae her husband.”

  “Is she mad, Papa—I mean, Uncle?” asked Keira, who stared so doubtfully at Magdalene that she focused once more upon eating her stew—but more slowly this time. “She’s so very beautiful, it doesna seem right…but she does act strangely.”

  “Aye, so she does,” Gabriel agreed, nodding to a pair of serving maids carrying pitchers. “Ale for me and cider for the rest—no, on second thought, give my wife some ale, too.”

  Magdalene stopped her spoon halfway to her mouth at his command, which made him look at her sharply, a dark brow rising.

  That made her want to kick herself—och, what was she doing? No lunatic would react to everything the man uttered, which made her heart quicken in her breast.

  Little by little, was she giving herself away? Here she had been trying so hard since the convent to appear as mad as could be, so what was happening here?

  She had never had such trouble with Sister Agnes and the rest of the nuns, who hadn’t once appeared to doubt her feigned lunacy. Nor had her father, who had been only too eager to send her away.

  Yet Gabriel MacLachlan wasn’t a nun, but a flesh and blood man. Was that what seemed to make him more attuned to everything she did? What else could she do to convince him that she was utterly dotty?

  Her heart beating faster as her nervousness only grew, Magdalene made herself stare with no expression at all as her cup was filled to the brim with ale—another thought striking her.

  Was he trying to see how she might act after drinking sterner stuff than cider? A test, mayhap? She had never been one to enjoy the taste of ale and the few times she had sampled it at her father’s fortress, she’d grown all woozy and begun to say silly things. Truthful things—aye, so that was it!

  Magdalene’s hands trembled that Gabriel still seemed to be watching her so closely
, even though he appeared to be listening to his nieces’ chatter about their dolls. She nearly jumped out of her chair when he moved the cup closer to her.

  “Drink, Maggie. You must be thirsty. You had quite a fright atop the tower—”

  “Oh, Uncle, I want tae go atop the tower!” interjected Keira, though Grania shushed her.

  “Nonsense, child! That’s no place for wee ones like yourself. Finish your stew or you’ll get no apple tart.”

  “Mmm, apple tart,” chimed in Rhona, both girls doing their best to oblige her as Gabriel moved the cup even closer to Magdalene.

  She didn’t look at him, but began to shovel stew so quickly into her mouth that she spilled some down her chin to plop into her lap. At once Rhona noticed and giggled, and plopped a spoonful into her lap, too, which made Magdalene grab a small handful of the stuff from her bowl and smear it onto her face.

  “Och, Rhona, no!” cried Grania as the child quickly followed suit, while Keira glanced from Magdalene to Gabriel and then back again.

  “Look, Uncle, what’s she doing?”

  By then Magdalene had grabbed up another handful and plastered the stew atop her head, the gravy dripping down her forehead and into her eyes. She blinked and grinned as maniacally as she could muster, and then grabbed the cup as if she intended to drink.

  Yet the ale didn’t so much as wet her lips before she poured the rest down the front of her gown while onlookers once again rose to leave—Gabriel not stopping them this time. Instead he stared at her as if perplexed and displeased all rolled into one, Magdalene waving her empty cup in the air and laughing so crazily that his fist came crashing down upon the table.

  She jumped.

  Rhona and Keira jumped.

  Grania jumped, too, and then rose to pull the wide-eyed girls from the bench and usher them quickly away.

  Magdalene didn’t wait to see what Gabriel intended to do, and vaulted from the chair to run after them. In a flurry of silk she passed by the three, who gaped at her along with other people leaving the hall.