by Willa Blair
“Come, let’s continue this discussion in my solar,” Rose invited. They had finished eating. As they left the table, another man followed. He took up a position by the door.
Iain approved of the prudence exhibited by having someone stand watch while they met with the laird. They were not known here. Kenneth took a seat on Iain’s far side and crossed his arms, signaling his purpose here to observe but not to interfere. His position, Iain noted, allowed him to see both James Rose and his man at the door.
The Rose poured drams of whisky and handed a glass to each of them, then poured one for himself. His guard did not get one. “Slainte!” he said, and raised the glass in toast. “May our business be concluded to the satisfaction of both.”
What about the satisfaction of the daughter involved? Iain kept a grimace from his face. His situation did not allow him the luxury of such concerns, so he let the Rose’s comment slide as he took the ceremonial sip.
The Rose continued, “What ye said in the hall is sound. Especially given the current discord. Clan Rose welcomes the opportunity—and whether this one is successful or not, we can find reason to create others—for closer ties with Brodie and our other neighbors. We dinna care to be caught between the Crown and the Isles with no one at our back.”
“Brodie agrees,” Iain told him, relieved to hear the Rose echo his father’s plan to bring together neighboring clans to address their common concern. “This alliance will be well-timed, though I regret the need bringing us to it.”
“Do ye mean to say ye regret the proposed marriage?” Rose asked, his tone—and his brown-eyed stare—suddenly too even.
Iain realized his statement had been misconstrued. He couldn’t decide if James Rose the father or James Rose the laird challenged him. Not that the distinction mattered. “Nay, no’ at all,” he lied. “I refer to the need for allies against the factions on either side of us. Only that.” At least that much was true. Trouble between the Duke of Albany, the Lord of the Isles and closer to home, the Earl of Ross, made trustworthy allies a must.
“Right. Good enough.” The older man paused and sipped his whisky, then continued, “I think ye’ll do. So, let’s get to it. Ye are here for a bride, and I have three daughters to betroth for the good of the clan.” The Rose raised a hand and counted off on his fingers. “The eldest, Mary, should by rights wed first, but since her mother died, she’s served me well as my chatelaine, and since I’ve yet to find a suitable bride of my own, I’m no’ eager to lose her.”
Iain waited, letting the older man run his options through his mind.
“Anne is next, then Catherine. Both would make a good match. Anne should be the one we discuss, but she’s no’ eager for marriage. Catherine is young and eager for everything. So ye see my dilemma.”
“I believe so.” Iain nodded, but he didn’t see at all. Though it might not be fair, as laird and as their father, he could choose which daughter to put forward, and the lass would have no say in the matter.
The Rose sat back and stared into his whisky cup for a long moment.
While he pondered, Iain fought not to fidget. No matter what he thought about his purpose, here at Rose, he was the Brodie, and he had an important, if unwelcome, job to do. He couldn’t let the Rose chief’s hesitation unnerve him.
“I’m prepared, therefore, to offer ye the hospitality of Rose,” his host finally said. “Ye must stay a few days, meet Anne and Catherine, and decide which one ye will offer for. Then, if we can work out the details, ye’ll be happier for making yer own choice.”
Iain nodded, intrigued. He hadn’t expected the Rose to be so accommodating. Two, possibly three, lasses to woo? This could get interesting. But he kept his speculation off his face. “’Tis unusual to allow a suitor so much freedom, but the arrangement pleases me. I hope I will find favor with one of yer daughters. Kenneth and I are pleased to accept your hospitality, and I’m grateful for your willingness to consider Brodie’s offer.”
“That’s settled, then. In private, you may call me James.” He tossed back the contents of his glass and poured more. “Tell me what other news ye have from Brodie.”
He offered the bottle to Iain, who could not be so impolite as to refuse, so he poured, then passed the bottle to Kenneth. Clearly, James was done talking about his daughters, but not ready to end the conversation.
Iain settled in for a long night.
Chapter 2
As Annie marched up the center aisle to her mount, the stable boy laid the saddle over Belle’s back. Annie needed to ride. She handled the rest of the tack while he secured the girth. She’d tossed and turned all night, dreading what the day would bring. Da had ordered her and Cat to take their meal in their rooms last night. He hadn’t wanted the Brodies to meet them yet, not until he’d had a chance to take their measure and decide if the alliance they proposed would suit his plans. And if, he’d added after a hesitation, the man would be a good match for one of his lasses.
Annie appreciated his belated consideration, though she knew he cared little for what she or either of her sisters might want. The Rose would decide for all of them, as was his right and his duty to the clan. Theirs was to obey and to secure alliances. And that made Annie’s jaw clench.
It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t she have been born a man? She waved the lad away and tugged the girth under Belle’s belly, using the strength of her frustration to pull it tight enough. Men had all the power. They made all the decisions. Belle stamped a hoof, and Annie realized she was still tugging at the girth. “Sorry,” she told her and moved to her head to rub her nose.
“Do ye always talk to animals?” came a deep voice from behind her.
Startled, she whirled and found herself facing the Brodie who made her breath catch. No stable boy, this. He was all man, and now that she saw him up close, she knew she’d been right to be apprehensive yesterday when she saw him and his companion arrive. He had an air of seductive power his smile only enhanced. Add to that the strength and silence of movement of a seasoned warrior, and she couldn’t help being impressed. His height exceeded her own by the width of his broad hand, and his dark hair, inky in the dimness of the stable’s interior, fell in loose waves to his shoulders. He wore riding clothes, a leather jerkin, and plaid over a saffron shirt whose sleeves bulged with muscle when he lifted a hand to stroke Belle’s neck. Snug leather trews accentuated the length and well-muscled strength of his legs.
God, he took her breath away. She needed a moment to gather her wits and remind herself she had no interest in this man, or any other. Yet she feared she lacked the defenses a prudent woman would need against a man like him. Her heart beat as fast as a captive bird’s. In the confines of the stable and this man’s overpowering presence, she felt just as caged. So she backed up a pace, letting Belle’s long nose shield her face from his view, though it did little to shield the rest of him from hers.
“I only talk to animals when I have something to apologize for,” she finally managed to say. Getting the words out helped her gather her courage. She took a breath and stepped clear of Belle. “Ye are one of the Brodies who arrived yesterday, aye?”
“I am Iain Brodie. The man with me is Kenneth, my cousin. Ye are one of the Rose sisters, are ye no’?”
She saw no advantage in denying it, so she nodded. This was the heir who needed a wife? Her pulse kicked up.
“I saw ye with the puppy when we arrived.”
Again, she couldn’t deny it, so she nodded. He’d noticed her. The thought made a pleasant tingle chase across her chest.
“’Twas a brave and kind thing ye did.”
He thought her kind and brave? Annie placed a hand against Belle’s neck, unsure how to react to his compliment.
Belle tossed her head.
“Soon, lass.” She patted Belle’s neck, certain her horse sensed the bees buzzing along her veins. She took a breath to calm them. “I willna allow an innocent creature to be harmed,” she said. “The puppy was only being a puppy.”
&n
bsp; “And the lad a bully. Ye were right to chastise him.” Iain took a step closer and held out a hand.
For a moment, Annie couldn’t decide whether to duck farther behind her horse or step forward to meet him. The timber of his voice vibrated along all her nerve endings. The kindness of his tone and words disarmed her. Gathering her will, she ducked around Belle’s nose and stepped forward.
He bowed over her hand, then straightened. “I’m sorry we had nay chance to meet when I saw ye on the stair yestereve.”
Annie blushed at the memory of getting caught spying on this man.
“Or at dinner. Though I now understand why the Rose didn’t want us to meet his lovely daughters then. I’d be protective of ye, too.”
“Thank ye, Iain Brodie.”
“I must also admit to the hope yer name is no’ Mary, because yer father has denied her and said I may consider only his two younger daughters—yet ye are too beautiful to ignore.”
Annie’s heart seized. As she expected, her father had decided the Brodie might choose between her and Cat. She shouldn’t be surprised, but still, the urge to cry, or scream, or beat her fists against poor, innocent Belle’s side nearly overcame her. And even though the Brodie heir was not the grizzled elder she’d pictured in her worried imaginings, she could not condemn Catherine so young to become any man’s wife. She was trapped.
She consoled herself that Iain Brodie was handsome and well-spoken enough to be tempting—if she was of a mind to be tempted. Which she most certainly was not.
“Sorry,” she told him, then forced a chuckle. “I seem to be saying that a lot. Anyway, I am Mary.” Mary Anne, not Mary Elizabeth, but he didn’t need to know that, not yet. Not if it gave her and her sisters a chance to plan how to get rid of him.
His face lost some of its pull on her as his smile fell away. Then he gamely brought it back. She gave him points for making the effort to hide his disappointment. He was polite as well as kind and damnably attractive.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps I should no’ admit this, but when I saw ye, in the bailey when we first arrived, ye took my heart from my chest. I suppose I must only hope yer sisters are as lovely as ye.”
He was going to make her melt. His flattery sounded sincere. Warmth spread all through her and she knew she must be blushing a furious red. “They are,” she assured him when she found her voice. “Much more than I.”
“I look forward to meeting them, then, though I wonder how I will be able to choose another after meeting ye.” He paused and frowned.
As his gaze tightened on her, even his frown made him more attractive.
“But I’m being rude. Ye are about to ride out. Would ye care for company?”
Annie tangled her fingers in Belle’s mane and hung on, fearing her knees would not support her if he kept looking at her that way. “I…uh…” She wanted to say no, but as long as he thought she was Mary and not available to him, he might be less intent on wooing her and therefore more open regarding what he revealed about himself. Maybe she could find out something that would help her convince her father to refuse the Brodie's offer of marriage, and find another way to make the alliance he craved. “I’d enjoy yer companionship.”
He readied his horse easily, the saddle no burden as he lifted it, his movements precise and practiced. When he shifted to the horse’s head, he spoke softly and stroked its nose as he finished getting it ready to ride.
Annie’s heart melted a little to see him treat the animal as a friend and not just a means of conveyance. She turned away, determined not to let him get inside her defenses.
As she walked Belle to the mounting block she normally used, he approached.
“Let me assist ye,” he told her. He made a step for her foot from his hands and lifted her effortlessly onto Belle’s back, then held Belle’s head while Annie settled herself.
“Aren’t ye a beauty,” he murmured.
Annie’s head snapped up before she realized he had spoken to Belle.
Then he looked at her. “Ready to go?”
Their hands brushed as he offered the reins, making a tingle run up her arm. Her breath caught in her chest again when he smiled. She nodded, unable to speak.
A moment later, his muscled thighs and nicely rounded arse flexed as he swung onto his mount.
She reminded herself a wife spent her life under her husband’s rule. And she did not wish to be any man’s property. Why was she responding so strongly to this one? She really should insist a groom accompany them, but Iain had already left her behind. She took a steadying breath, then followed him out of the stable. They rode side-by-side across the bailey and through the gate.
“Where would ye like to go?”
His voice coated her insides, sweet honey touched with something hot, lighting a pleasant heat in her belly like the peppers cook had gotten at market. She had to stop reacting to him like she hadn’t eaten in a week.
She tapped the bow and arrows tied to Belle’s side. “I hunt along the edge of the glen where the birds congregate. Cook wants a brace for dinner.”
Iain nodded and flashed his heart-stopping smile. “Let’s go, then.”
He let her lead. She knew it was only sensible, because he didn’t know the way to her favorite hunting ground, but she appreciated the consideration, nonetheless. Most men of her acquaintance would have charged off in whatever general direction she indicated, heedless of her knowledge and experience. It was just one more perfect thing about Iain Brodie—and it made her furious.
* * *
Iain kept up his end of the conversation, even though his heart lodged somewhere in his belly. Why had he encountered her first, and why had she pierced his defenses like a broadsword to the gut? Until he’d seen her impressive ire directed at the larger lad in protection of the wee hound, he hadn’t expected any prospective bride could entice him as she did. Yet this was Mary, the daughter James Rose refused to consider for marriage to Brodie. Damn it.
All those other lasses he’d charmed were just prelude to meeting Mary Rose.
Her sisters might be more beautiful, as she claimed, but he doubted that could be possible. Her hair was a silken, honey-colored fall, her skin, cream touched with berry on her cheeks and lips. Her eyes, when she wasn’t hiding them from him, were the color of the midday sky on a bright summer day.
And he soon discovered she was as deadly with her bow as she was beautiful. Fitting for a Brodie laird’s wife, since the Brodie crest displayed a fist holding arrows. Unless he discovered her sisters had an equal skill with the bow, hers must be a sign she was the daughter meant for Brodie.
And since when had he gotten so poetic? He’d never had any difficulty bedding and dismissing a lass. How had he become so smitten with the one lass he could not have? He didn’t yet know how he would convince her father to let him marry this daughter rather than one of the others. But he would do it.
On the ride out, he contented himself by listening to her talk about the area they passed through, the types of birds she hunted, the puppies in the stable.
“How did ye come to prefer riding Belle?” he asked. He enjoyed hearing her talk about her animals, and her actions made it clear she favored this horse.
“Belle saved my life,” she declared, patting the horse’s neck, “about three years ago.”
Her words aroused Iain’s protective instincts. He found he did not like the idea of this lass in danger. “How?”
“I’d wandered too far from the keep and thought I’d found a shortcut home, but came to a burn. With the spring rains, it ran deeper and faster than I kenned. Belle did her best to get across, but in the middle, the current plucked me off the saddle and swept me away. I got tangled in a downed tree. I thought I’d drown, but Belle came after me.” She bent forward and stroked the horse’s neck.
Despite wanting to know what happened, Iain found himself staring at her hand, imagining it stroking his neck, his shoulder, his belly.
“I managed to grab her mane and h
old on,” the lass continued. “She pulled me out and the water pushed me onto her back.”
Iain forced himself to meet her gaze. “Thank the saints.”
“Belle dragged me out of the water. Since that day, she’s been mine. No one else is allowed to ride her.”
“She’s an impressive horse,” Iain told her, studying Belle’s lines, her markings, the length of her mane and tail, and committing them to memory. Her story gave him an idea.
“What about ye?” Mary asked. “Do ye have many horses and dogs at Brodie?”
“Aye,” he answered with a smile. “And coos and a few cats as well. Ye love puppies. I’d wager ye’d love kittens as much or more.”
She returned his smile and arched an eyebrow. “Apparently, ye do.”
“Aye. Ye’ve never held one?”
“Nay, we’ve none here. I dinna ken why no’.”
“They’re wee and soft and more…limber…than a dog. Kittens play and tumble about. When they’re worn out, they just collapse and drop off to sleep wherever they happen to be. Sometimes they purr, and ye willna be able to resist. ’Tis the most pleasing little rumble ye’ve ever heard.” Save the groan of satisfaction a lass could make when she’d been properly pleasured, but he had sense enough not to mention his familiarity with that sound.
“Ach, ye make me wish to hold one right now.”
She asked him about Brodie, and he answered as best he could, painting, he hoped, an attractive picture of the clan—and himself—and keeping his father’s disappointment in him to himself. There would be time enough for that later. On the ride back to the Rose keep, he turned the conversation back to her.
“I understand,” he told her, “ye have run yer father’s keep these five years past. What do you most enjoy?”
