Highlander's Wicked Gamel (Wicked Highlanders Book 1)

by Fiona Faris

  His words were interrupted by the sound of one of the castle guards shouting his name. “Duncan, there is a man who has just arrived claiming he has come for his bride.”

  Duncan stood. “Who is he, and who is his bride?”

  “I dinnae ken the man’s name, but he claims that his bride is Lady Marra.”

  With those words Duncan’s heart stopped beating.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marra’s mouth went dry, and her heart began to race in panicked fear. His bride? I am nae ones bride! Diana had told her that her father had been arranging a marriage for her before he had died, but he had kept it from her so she was ignorant to the details of the matter. “I am no’ wed tae any man,” she retorted angrily, rising from the ground.

  “We had best go and see what this is about,” Duncan suggested. He looked pale as if he were in shock.

  The two of them walked back up to the castle. Marra felt as though she were marching to her own funeral. When they arrived in the great hall, they found Fergus standing with a man neither of them recognized. The man bowed with a flourish upon their approach. “My Lady, ‘tis truly a pleasure tae behold yer beauteous visage at last. Yer faither did no’ lie about yer beauty. Allow me tae introduce myself. I am James Alexander MacDonald of Knock Castle on the Isle of Skye. I looked for ye at Claig Castle on the Isle of Jura only to find it in a state o’ ruin, and its dear laird buried beneath its blackened soil. Yer clansmen informed me that I would find ye here. I must say I am greatly surprised tae find ye seekin’ refuge among yer faither’s enemies.”

  “What is this about ye claimin’ tae be wed tae Marra?” Duncan demanded to know, forgoing the niceties.

  I would verra much like tae ken the answer tae that question myself, Marra thought to herself but was too dumbfounded by the sight of the man to speak. James Alexander MacDonald was tall, lean muscled, with long blonde hair tied in a leather thong behind his head. He had a confident air about him, intelligent sharp blue eyes, and spoke in an educated manner. She looked from Duncan to the newcomer and back again. Where Duncan was broad and dark, James was lean and fair.

  “’Twas yer faither’s last wish that we should wed. An agreement was struck betwixt yer faither and mine. We were wed by proxy, but days before his death from what I was able tae gather from yer kinsmen.”

  “That cannae be!” Marra protested. She could not believe her father would do such a thing as to wed her without telling her or seeking her consent.

  “But it is. It was the day o’ the spring gatherin’.”

  Faither’s huntin’ trip! Marra’s mind reeled at the realization. Her father had not gone hunting as he had claimed. That is why we were able tae arrive back at the castle afore he did. The kiss to her forehead while she lay their pretending to be sleeping that had been so out of character for him now made sense. He had arranged her marriage that very same day.

  Duncan stepped angrily forward. “I dinnae believe ye.”

  “Do ye presume tae impugn my honor by suggesting that I would lie, sir?” James asked indignantly, eyeing Duncan’s threatening posture warily.

  “I do.” Duncan nodded sharply in the affirmative.

  James stepped forward. “Perhaps ye would care tae join me outside?”

  “Gladly,” Duncan stepped in front of Marra, blocking her view of the escalating situation.

  Both men turned to walk out of the door. Marra could hardly believe what was happening. “Stop! Ye dinnae need tae do this!” She called out attempting to avoid the violence to come, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. She had never had men come to blows over her before, and she did not like the idea of it now.

  “’Tis best if ye stay out o’ this, lass,” Fergus warned, placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her from running after them.

  “I cannae let this happen. Duncan is a hunter no’ a warrior. He told me so himself more than once.”

  “My son may be a hunter, but he is more than capable o’ wieldin’ a sword when needed.”

  “But he told my cousins that…”

  “Would ye reveal tae yer enemies everythin’ that ye were capable o’ or would ye hold back and maintain the element o’ surprise?” Fergus interjected.

  “But yer own men believe him tae be weak!”

  “Aye, they do, but that is only because my son has no’ fought in the heat o’ battle, no’ because he is incapable o’ it. They are auld warriors who want their leaders tae have been tempered in the blood o’ their enemies. When the time is right, he will prove his worth.”

  Marra broke free from Fergus’ grasp and ran after Duncan. As she emerged from the castle, she found the two men standing perfectly still face to face swords raised in salute. Before she could cry out to stop them, within the span of a breath, they sprang into action. Metal clashed against metal, ringing out through the courtyard. A crowd gathered to watch the fight. The sun flashed on each blade as they blocked and advanced in turn. Had it not been so horrifying, it would have been beautiful, a sort of brutal dance ebbing and flowing in time to her racing heartbeat. She ran down the castle steps to intervene, but was stopped by one of the guards.

  “Unhand me,” she demanded, attempting to jerk her arm free from his grasp.

  “Ye will do nothin’ but get yerself killed. I dinnae care about another dead MacDonald, but I will no’ let ye distract Duncan as he fights for his life.”

  “This is nothin’ but foolishness!”

  “Mayhap, but ye will no’ intervene.”

  Marra made to call to Duncan, but the guard clamped his hand down over her mouth. “I said I will no’ let ye distract him, and I meant it.”

  Marra fought against the guard’s hold, but to no avail. She was forced to watch as the two highlanders struck repeatedly at one another, matching each other blow for blow. Duncan was strong and had greatly underexaggerated his skill with the blade. James appeared to be a more than capable swordsman himself. She could see why her father had selected him as the future chieftain of the clan, as her father had put great value in a warrior’s abilities before all other elements of character a man could embody. He had always said that, ‘A man’s worth is measured by his ability tae defend his people, nothin’ else matters more than that.’ Her father had died attempting to do just that.

  The image of her father’s burnt corpse lying there on the ground, his claymore beside him, flashed through her mind. She shook her head attempting to clear her thoughts, but was unable to move with the guard gripping her mouth. She closed her eyes in an attempt to blot out the fight, but then quickly opened them, finding that the fear of the unknown was far worse. God and all the saints protect him.

  Duncan, arm muscles bulging, sweat glistening on his forehead, his hands firmly gripping his claymore, struck out landing a glancing blow to James’ arm. Crimson red blossomed through his white shirt and dripped down his arm. Duncan struck again, but this time James was able to block the blow, sending the blade down nicking Duncan’s thigh. Blood rained down from beneath his kilt to spatter upon the ground. Marra cried out from beneath the guard’s hand. Unable to take another moment, she opened her mouth and bit down hard. The guard yelled in pain, removing his hand and clutching it to his chest.

  Marra rushed forward, coming between the two men and grabbing each man by the arm. “Stop!” Duncan and James halted mid swing.

  “Marra! Have ye lost yer head, lass?!” Duncan yelled in disbelief. “Ye could have been killed!”

  “I will no’ stand by and watch ye slaughter each other o’er somethin’ so foolish as a lass, especially if I am that lass,” Marra chastised them.

  “’Tis ye who are foolish runnin’ betwixt us as ye did,” James glared at her disapprovingly. “Yer faither did no’ tell me that ye were daft afore he bound us together.”

  “I am no’ daft, and we are no’ bound together nae matter what my faither may have done in my absence. I did no’ consent tae wed ye then, and I dinnae wish tae be wed tae ye now. My consent is required by Scottish law a
s my faither kenned and as I am sure ye do. What did ye hope tae accomplish by consentin’ tae an illegal marriage act?”

  “Yer faither hoped tae provide ye with the protection o’ a husband and yer people with that o’ a worthy laird. He had hoped that in time ye would come tae care for me and see the reason behind his choice, but then again, he had also planned tae be here for our introduction. In spite o’ everythin’ I still agree with our faithers’ intended purpose. Ye and I are a good match, and I believe ye will come tae see that in time. Yer people need a leader, Marra MacDonald, and yer faither chose me tae be that man.” James’ sharp blue eyes gazed upon her with such certainty that she found herself to be momentarily speechless.

  “Marra is no’ wed tae ye, nor will she e’er be. Scottish law does no’ recognize yer claims. Return tae Skye where ye belong.” Duncan stepped forward, wrapping his arm possessively around Marra’s waist.

  “Would ye deny yer faither his dyin’ wish?” James petitioned Marra, taking her hand in his.

  Duncan reached out and knocked his hand from hers. “Dinnae touch her again, or the next time I will take yer hand off at the wrist.”

  “Duncan!” Marra exclaimed, horrified at his violent words.

  “Forgive me, lass. I did no’ mean tae offend ye, but I will no’ allow him tae take liberties with ye against yer will,” Duncan apologized for upsetting her.

  Marra did not know what to think. Her head spun with everything that had happened, and she felt a strong need to run away as fast as her feet would take her. For a brief moment she wished that she were back in the highland croft where she had been held captive, simply to avoid the situation that now faced her. On one hand she could accept James’ offer of marriage and protection, but in doing so, she would surrender any hope of love or a life with Duncan. On the other hand she could refuse him and dishonor her father as he lay fresh in his grave.

  In the brief time that she had known Duncan, she had come to care for him deeply. She would be lying if she did not admit to having thought about a life with him by her side and in her bed, but if she were being truthful with herself, she had only just met him. Realistically, she barely knew him, and yet at times it had felt as if she had known him her entire life. Marriage to Duncan, however, was another thing entirely. Her people hated his people, as his people hated hers. There was no possible way that the MacDonalds of Jura would ever accept Duncan as their chieftain. If she were to wed him, she would be forced to surrender her home, her family, and her clan. I cannae abandon my people.

  As a MacDonald of Skye, James was the ideal candidate for a husband and leader. Objectively, Marra could well understand why her father had chosen him to wed her, but when it came to matters of the heart, she felt nothing but resentment for him in colluding with her father behind her back. Now that is no’ fair, she chastised herself for her unkind thoughts about his character. ‘Tis likely that he had verra little tae do with the arrangement as it would have been an agreement between his faither and my own.

  Marra extricated herself from Duncan’s protective grasp upon her waist and took a step back away from the two men. Duncan looked at her questioningly, stepping toward her, but she shook her head at him in declination of his advance. “Marra?” he asked his brow raised, hurt in his eyes.

  “I need time tae think,” she informed him, taking another step back.

  “Tae think about what? Ye cannae honestly be considerin’ marriage tae this cuddie,” Duncan protested angrily.

  “Ye must like the taste o’ my blade,” James threatened, taking exception to Duncan’s insult. “Are ye a lover o’ pain?”

  “’Tis ye that has the death wish,” Duncan retorted, glaring at him in disgust.

  “Enough!” Marra shouted. “Haud yer wheesht afore I do it for ye.” Both men turned back to look at her in surprise at her bold speech. “The pair o’ ye are in need o’ a healer. Get yerselves down tae Idonea’s croft afore I decide tae box both o’ yer ears for actin’ as nae but wee bairns fightin’ o’er yer favorite toy horse.” They looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Marra took a threatening step forward, raising her hands in preparation of carrying out her threat. Their eyebrows shot up into their hair in shock as they backed away then turned in unison to do as she instructed. She would have laughed were the situation not so serious.

  “Ye are either the bravest lass I have e’er met or the most foolish,” the guard’s voice announced from behind her.

  Marra turned to discover that he had recovered from her having bit him. “I am sorry that I bit ye…”

  “Ewen, My Lady,” the guard introduced himself, bowing at the waist in the first true show of respect she had received from any of Duncan’s clansmen since her arrival.

  “Ewen,” she acknowledged with a smile. “I am Marra, Marra MacDonald.”

  “I ken who ye are well enough,” the guard chuckled, coming to stand beside her. He gestured toward Duncan and James’ retreating backs. “It looks as if ye have a difficult choice tae make.”

  “Aye, that I do,” she nodded hesitantly. “Do ye have any advice for me on the matter?” she asked not really expecting an answer from the guard, but more inquiring to the heavens above than anything else.

  “Take yer time, lass,” Ewen recommended. “The time tae ken the worth o’ each man and then make yer decision making sure to follow both yer head and yer heart in equal measure.”

  Marra was surprised by the guard’s wisdom. “Ye are wasted as a warrior, Ewen. I thank ye for yer wise council. I fear it is easier said than done.”

  “Aye, that it is,” he nodded in agreement, “but it is worth the effort and the pain for at the end lies a joy that can only be made with time and care.”

  “How did ye come tae hold such knowledge?” she asked meeting his eyes with respect.

  “I earned it,” he replied, his eyes turning sad and wistful as if remembering a time gone by.

  “What was her name?” Marra inquired, recognizing the look of a man who had loved deeply and lost much.

  “Ann, her name was Ann,” Ewen admitted, tears springing to his eyes. “She died in childbirth.”

  “I can see that ye loved her verra much,” Marra noted, feeling sympathy for him.

  “Aye, that I did, but it took time. Our marriage was arranged by our parents. We did no’ meet until the day o’ our weddin’. She was fearful o’ me, and I was in love with another lass at the time. I hated poor Ann at first. I blamed her and my parents for trappin’ me in a marriage I did no’ want, but with time and patience we came tae share a love far deeper than that which I e’er would have had with another. I chose tae honor my faither’s wishes and came tae ken a love that was beautiful and rare, but only ye can decide which man is right for ye. Take the time tae ken the men who seek yer hand, lass. Ye will be thankful that ye did.”

  “I thank ye, Ewen, for sharin’ yer wisdom with me.”

  “’Tis my pleasure, My Lady, but if I might offer one last piece o’ advice?”

  “O’ course,” she consented.

  “Dinnae run out between fightin’ men e’er again, for any reason. Next time ye may no’ be so fortunate as tae keep yer bonnie head attached tae yer neck,” he smiled, eyes sparkling mischievously, bowed, then returned to his place atop the castle stairs, guarding the entrance.

  Marra watched him walk away, thinking about what he had said. He is right. I should take my time tae make such an important choice for the good o’ the clan and myself. She knew it would be difficult to do so given the dire circumstances in which her people found themselves, but when it came to binding one’s self for life to another individual, it was best to employ caution. I will return tae Jura tae rebuild and tae think. In her mind she knew that James would be the better choice for her people, but in her heart she could not let go of Duncan, as it whispered his name with every beat.

  An image of Duncan’s naked body flashed through her mind, causing a shiver of desire to wash over her like a sea wave. She touched her fing
ertips to her lips in remembrance of the kiss they had shared. She closed her eyes, feeling his heated breath on her sensitive flesh as they had lain in bed alone together in the mountain croft, skin against skin, heart against heart. In that moment of passion she had not known where he had begun and she had ended. They had been chaste, her virginity left intact, and yet they had been as one intertwined together upon the bed. In that moment he was mine and I was his. Flesh o’ my flesh. Breath o’ my breath. Soul o’ my soul. My savior and my downfall. My enemy and my love. My weakness, my ruin, my hope.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Duncan sat eyeing the man who sat across from him as Idonea stitched up the wound in his thigh. His anger at the man’s intrusion into his life was so intense that he barely felt the healer’s ministrations. He had seen the doubt in Marra’s eyes when faced with the question of whether to wed the man her father had selected for her or not. In his mind there was no question. The answer should have been an immediate, absolute no, and it had been at first, but the more she had spoken with the intruder the more doubt had filled her eyes. I should have run him through the moment I laid eyes on him.

  James Alexander MacDonald had proven himself to be a strong fighter, and Duncan had to admit a begrudging respect for him as a swordsman, but that is where his generosity ended. The moment the man’s wounds were tended to, Duncan wanted him off of MacGregor-Campbell lands and out of Marra’s life. He cannae breed doubt and discontent if he is no’ hear tae pursued her with her faither’s last wishes. I will no’ surrender her tae any man, nae matter what Angus MacDonald may have wanted.

  Duncan wished that he could take Marra’s pain and uncertainty away. He would have gladly done anything if it meant that she was happy and safe. He worried that her kidnapper was still out there somewhere watching and waiting. A thought flashed through Duncan’s mind, and he eyed James with even more suspicion than he had before. What if he is the one who took her? A strong desire to kill the man where he sat coursed through him, and he grasped the edges of the chair he was sitting upon in an effort to control the urge. He will nae have her as long as there is still breath in my body tae fight.