Thirty Nights With a Highland Husband

by Melissa Mayhue

  “No,” Rosalyn interjected, rising from her chair, drawing all eyes. “There’s no need for the man to apologize. I canna be insulted by the ignorant and superstitious. I’ll be retiring now anyway.” She turned to Cate and Mairi. “Will you ladies join me?”

  Silence hung heavy in the hall as the three of them exited. Her curiosity aroused, Cate stopped outside the door, peeking through the narrow opening they’d left.

  Connor still stood, frowning at the visitor, who launched into what appeared to be a formal introduction of his purpose.

  “I come as a messenger of the Clan MacPherson, personal envoy of Red Dunald, laird of the MacPherson, to deliver his demand to you, Connor MacKiernan.”

  “And what demand might that be?”

  “You are instructed to deliver one Mairi MacKiernan, yer sister, to the chapel in the village below, come one week from this Saturday, her to be given over to wed the MacPherson himself on that day.” The messenger nodded his head emphatically at the end of his little speech.

  Connor calmly seated himself, and took a drink of his ale before answering.

  “No.”

  “What?” The messenger seemed flustered. “That’s yer reply to the MacPherson?”

  Connor leaned back, propped both his feet on the table, one crossed over the other, and regarded the man for a moment. “My reply is this. First, that being my sister’s birthday, I’ve no intention of taking her anywhere at all. Second, I dinna seem to remember anyone, particularly someone so esteemed as the MacPherson himself, approaching me to ask for my sister’s hand. If yer laird has fancy for the lass, perhaps he’d best announce his intent.” Connor took another drink from his mug. “At the direction of our laird, the MacKiernan himself, we MacKiernans follow the old customs when it comes to marriage.”

  The messenger turned on his heel, heading toward the door.

  Cate, fearing she’d be caught, started for the stairs, only to have an arm dart out of a doorway and grab her, dragging her inside. A soft hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Shh,” Rosalyn cautioned. “If yer going to listen in, you hae to learn the nearest hiding places,” she whispered.

  * * *

  “No even the common courtesy to let you enjoy yer new wife for few days before he started in.” Robert shook his head in disgust.

  Connor shrugged. “It was only a matter of time before it began.”

  “Good thing I’m here.” Robert grinned and refilled his mug.

  “Aye? ’Cause I dinna remember hearing a word from you to the flustered lad who just left.”

  “Exactly my point. He had need only to look at me sitting here beside you, and the fear sent him running back to his mighty laird.”

  Connor shook his head, smiling in spite of himself at his friend’s audacity. Still, there was no better man to have at his side in the coming days. He reached for the pitcher of ale only to have Robert whisk it away, withholding it from his reach.

  “No, my friend, I dinna think you get any more of this. Duncan and I will finish here while you go upstairs and see to yer new bride.”

  Robert and Duncan both chuckled as Connor rose and left the room. He stopped outside the door, wondering what awaited him up the spiral stairs.

  * * *

  Cate sat on the floor in front of the fire waiting for her husband to arrive. Her hands shook and her stomach pitched, making her glad she hadn’t eaten. With what she’d learned from Rosalyn, she had made her decision. Now she had only to see it through.

  After leaving the small larder where they’d hid, the women had just parted ways when a thought occurred to Cate. A question for which she needed an answer.

  “Why have you never married, Rosalyn? Why have you never found your own true love?”

  The woman stopped, her back rigid before she turned. “Oh, I found him. I’m still waiting for him to realize that he loves me.”

  “How long have you waited?” Cate was caught by the sadness in her new aunt’s eyes.

  “Almost twenty years now.”

  “What? Why haven’t you done something, said something to him?”

  “Now, Cate, did you no say yerself, we canna force true love? If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

  Cate had watched, stunned, as Rosalyn disappeared beyond the entry to her tower.

  Twenty years. It would be one thing to search that long, but to have found the right person and do nothing?

  Not for her. She wasn’t willing to wait patiently for twenty years, or to settle for less than the real thing.

  Jesse may have been right that love happened when you least expected it, but she was going to gamble everything on his being wrong about your not being able to make it happen.

  Make it happen she would; she only needed to figure out how. And quickly, she thought, listening to the footsteps approaching her door.

  * * *

  Cate looked up at Connor as he entered. She rose to her feet, but didn’t move toward him, didn’t say a word.

  An uncharacteristic knot formed in his stomach—too much ale perhaps; surely not apprehension. He had no reason to be concerned about what went on behind the veil of this woman’s eyes.

  He strode into the room possessively. It was his bedchamber. Reaching the center of the room, he stopped and drew off his shirt, turning to the woman who was now his wife.

  She stood motionless, watching him as if waiting for his next move.

  His wife. The words knifed at him.

  He deliberately arched an eyebrow and swaggered over to her, determined to demonstrate his bravado.

  She didn’t resist when he pulled her to him, kissing her face, her neck, her soft, pliable lips. But other than her rapid breathing, she didn’t respond either.

  He drew back to look down at her. Her eyes, the color of a deep forest glen, should have been warning enough that something was amiss.

  He ignored the warning, kissing her neck again. Grasping the ties to her overskirt, he tugged and her hands came up to rest against his bare chest, as if holding him at bay.

  “Connor?” she whispered, trembling in his arms now.

  “Aye, wee Caty?” he whispered back, not completely sure which of them trembled.

  “Do you love me?”

  “What?” He drew back from her again. What nonsense was this?

  She pulled away from him, her hand trailing down his chest, leaving a trill of sensation in its wake.

  “Before we go any further, I have to know where I stand with you.” She looked up at him, her eyes dark and serious.

  “Where you stand? Yer my wife, are you no? I thought we’d settled this earlier.”

  She backed up another step and he took one toward her, almost unconsciously, as if stalking his prey.

  “Technically. But that’s not what I’m asking. Do you love me?” She took another step back from him, crossing her arms under her breasts.

  He stared at her, mute, unable to answer her question.

  “Okay.” She nodded as if to herself. “If not love, do you trust me?”

  “Trust you?” He choked on the words. Trust a woman? He could never have imagined her asking this of him.

  “No? Then we’ll just have to see how much I can trust you; how much that honor of yours is really worth.”

  “What?” She questioned his honor? He closed the distance between them in one stride, grabbing her arm, pulling her close enough that she’d feel his breath when he spoke. A move calculated to intimidate. “Explain yerself, woman.”

  “I can’t be your wife, not in that sense. I can’t give my body to any man who doesn’t love me, doesn’t trust me.”

  “Then what was last night?” The trembling was her, her arms shivering under his fingers.

  “Apparently a mistake,” she whispered, lowering her head.

  He drew her to him, burying his face in the warm curve of her neck until she spoke. Her voice shook, but her words stopped him.

  “You swore to protect me from harm. If you take me again
st my will, you’ll be the cause of that harm. So what of your precious honor now?”

  He let go of her arms and stepped back, searching her face for her true feelings. He saw only determination. Yet her chin trembled as if she might cry. Fear? That cut deep, the thought that the woman he’d sworn to protect was afraid of him.

  He turned and walked away, stopping only to pick up his shirt before leaving the room. His mind raged at the swirl of unfamiliar emotions assaulting him as he descended the stairs. He would not lose control.

  “Connor?”

  His aunt’s sharp voice halted his progress. She stood at the bottom of the staircase, hands clasped behind her back.

  “Where do you think yer going?”

  She hadn’t used that tone with him since he was a small lad and it rankled his raw feelings now.

  “To find someplace with no a woman in sight to get very drunk and go to sleep.”

  “I dinna think so, Nephew. As long as yer friend Robert stays here, you’ll do weel to keep up the pretense of haeing a loving wife upstairs. You dinna want the king thinking this is no a real marriage, do you? You’ve yer sister, yer whole family to be thinking of.”

  She was right. He wanted to yell at her, push her out of his way and continue on, but she was right. He had no choice.

  He turned and went back upstairs, stopping at the closed door. He reached for the knob, then changed his mind, sitting down on the landing. He’d wait for a bit. Give the woman inside time to climb into bed and go to sleep. Then he’d go inside and pull his chair near the fire.

  He leaned back against the door, preparing for yet another long night.

  CHAPTER 24

  Life settled into an uneasy routine of long days and even longer nights.

  Cate spent the better part of her days with Mairi or alone in the gardens. Working with the herbs felt familiar to her, almost like being in her own little garden back home. When there was nothing to do, as was frequently the case, she could at least sit in peace and think. A pastime that was not always so peaceful.

  The castle had a few books, thanks to the foresight of Connor’s parents and grandparents, though they were more along the lines of manuscripts than books. They’d look beautiful under glass in a museum. Some were in Latin, which she had studied at school and might have eventually deciphered. At least one was written in Greek. But the whole lot of them were hand copied in a flowing manuscript that was totally illegible to her.

  Connor read them late into the night. Every night. Sitting by the fire in their room, only crawling into bed long after he thought she was asleep. Which of course she wasn’t. She was beginning to think she’d never have a peaceful night’s sleep again. Damn those Faeries, anyway.

  The same evening she had informed Connor that she was staying, Rosalyn had pointed out that with Robert in the castle, they’d better figure out a way to share their bedchamber, or it would be pretty difficult to hide the fact that they weren’t. So they retired to the same room each evening.

  Connor built a large screen for one corner of the room so that she could change her clothes in privacy. Every evening she would slip into her overly long nightgown and climb into bed while he sat by the fire reading. She would pretend to sleep, and hours later he would finally crawl into his side of the huge bed. They kept their distance at all times.

  She only hoped he was suffering as much as she was, but she didn’t see any real signs of it, other than his looking tired all the time and being a bit grouchy when his friend Robert joked about new husbands who didn’t get enough sleep.

  It was midafternoon and she had completely exhausted her list of things to do. She had weeded in the gardens until there were no weeds anywhere to be found. Margaret shooed her out of the kitchen every time she even made an appearance. Rosalyn was busy with her needlework, and Cate’s only attempt at that had been disastrous. Even Mairi was busy elsewhere.

  Early that morning one of the maids from Dun Ard, Florie, had shown up at the outer gate, carrying a message for Mairi from her cousin Lyall, and Cate hadn’t seen the two of them since they’d run off to Mairi’s chambers.

  After standing in the middle of the great hall feeling useless for a while, Cate decided a change of location was in order. She would go outside and feel useless there. At least the scenery would be better.

  Cate walked out onto the landing of the great staircase and leaned on the railing. She really loved this spot and thought she might ask Connor to build a bench for her here. She could see far off into the distance, down the hillside and over the entire courtyard from this point.

  Best of all, from here she could watch Connor and Robert doing their daily exercise with swords. She never tired of watching him, especially when, like now, he’d gotten warm and removed his shirt. Even from here she could see the muscles rippling under the skin of his back and on his arms.

  Cate still had no real plan for making Connor love her. She had begun to think of all this as a game she and Connor played. Neither of them knew the rules or the boundaries, only that the stakes were very high. She sometimes resented the fact that more than likely, Connor didn’t even realize he was involved in a contest. And in spite of his unknowing participation, she feared that, ultimately, she was going to lose. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to hold out in the game without making a complete fool of herself. It was only a matter of time before she broke down and threw herself at him. She wanted him that much.

  She suspected he wouldn’t refuse her, since he did seem to find her physically attractive, but that really wasn’t the way she wanted it. He might never love her, but if she could at least earn his trust, life would be good.

  Well, as good as life could be without caffeine in any form, and without chocolate, potatoes, tomatoes or chili peppers. The thirteenth century was sorely lacking in Cate’s favorite foods. She sighed, and was momentarily lost in a good fantasy about a baked potato smothered in sour cream when she heard Ewan’s warning yell.

  “Riders approach.”

  The men below scrambled, hurrying up the stairs to the wall tower where Ewan stood watch.

  From where she stood, Cate counted eight horses riding hard. Hiking up her skirts, she raced down the steps and across the courtyard to the wall tower stairs. She climbed those quietly, staying in the shadow of the door, just far enough out to see, but not far enough to attract the attention of the men gathered in front of her.

  She immediately recognized Artair and the MacPherson among the riders at the gate. The others were men she didn’t remember seeing before.

  “Connor MacKiernan.” It was one of the men she didn’t know. “As you dinna show at the chapel at the appointed time three days ago, we’ve come to claim Mairi MacKiernan for bride to the MacPherson as granted by the laird of the MacKiernan. Open yer gates and send her out.”

  Connor propped his leg up on the wall, laying his sword across his knee.

  “That’s fair odd. I dinna remember having granted permission for my sister to marry. Did I mention such a thing to you, Robert?”

  He spoke loudly, for the benefit of those on the horses below rather than those gathered on the wall with him.

  “Now that you ask, I dinna remember yer having told me of such a thing. Duncan, did he speak to you of this?” Robert also spoke loudly for the benefit of those below.

  “No, I dinna believe he did.” Duncan shook his head, scratching his beard. “And I’m sure I would hae remembered such as that.”

  Connor yelled down to the men below. “I dinna believe I’ll be sending Mairi out this day. You can tell the MacPherson he’s made a mistake. There’s no agreement for him to marry my sister. You must have the wrong MacKiernan lass.”

  “Be reasonable, Connor. You were aware that I arranged this before yer return. It was settled long ago. Send the girl out. Make this easy on all of us,” Artair shouted.

  “No, I dinna think so, Uncle. Mairi expresses no desire to wed Red Dunald MacPherson, and she’s told you as much. She
’s no going to marry any man she disna want. You of all people should understand that. She’ll remain behind my gates. She’s under my protection now.” He smiled down at the men, his eyes glinting dangerously.

  Robert took a position similar to Connor’s, sword across his knee, leaning out a bit to look down on his audience.

  “And under mine as weel. And as I’m a representative of the king, that puts her under the protection of King Alexander the Third. I dinna think you’d want to challenge him for her hand, now would you?” He grinned down at the men below and slapped Connor on the back, speaking quietly to his friend. “See, that’s how you do it. Look at that fat one. He’s about to have an apoplexy. His face is turning purple.” He chuckled.

  “Yer a fool, MacKiernan.” It was the MacPherson, Red Dunald himself, this time. “Yer laird has ordered it. You hae no choice in the matter. You must obey. Send her out to me now.”

  “I dinna obey Artair. He’s no more my laird than you are, MacPherson. He’s my uncle, that’s all. I’ve sworn no fealty here. My only loyalty is to the king.” Connor continued to smile down at them, his hand stroking the sword on his knee.

  “And you’d best remember that Alexander is loyal to those who’ve sworn to him. Any aggression against this castle will be looked on as aggression against the king himself.” Robert looked at Connor and nodded. “That raised the price for him, did it no?”

  He and Connor both chuckled this time.

  Cate watched them in fascination. They stood, stripped to the waist, perspiration glistening on their muscles. Hollywood had never gotten it quite right. These men, these warriors, joking and taunting their opponents below seemed to be enjoying themselves. They were a study in elegant leashed violence, just waiting for the moment to burst loose. She shivered, convinced that it would be a fierce thing to witness, repelled and enthralled at the same time.

  The MacPherson spoke quietly to Artair before he and his men turned their horses and rode away, leaving Artair below, staring up at the men on the tower walk.

  “You’ll regret this, you ungrateful cur. I’ll see to it that you regret this. After all I’ve done for you, you’ll no ruin everything for me. You’ll no have it all back.” He screamed at his nephew, shaking his fist in the air before turning his own horse to gallop away.