The Highland Laird's Bride

by Nicole Locke

  So for those things he had no control over, she forgave him. But for his offers to her father, for the false alliances, for his manipulating her as well?

  Never.

  She’d seen this pattern of apology too many times with her father. His schemes. His reckless hatred; his quick apologies afterward. Her father had disappointed her over and over again, but Bram had done something worse than her father ever had.

  Bram had taken her hope for a better future for her clan, for herself, and destroyed it. She could never trust him, never depend on him. Now she’d do anything to ensure he left Fergusson land. She’d keep throwing buckets, daggers, and shooting arrows. She’d shut the gates again. But he would leave.

  She was done toiling for meagre results. Done sacrificing herself for bitter disappointments. It was Laird Colquhoun’s turn to abandon his aspirations and ambitions here and return to his home. It was Bram’s turn to fail.

  * * *

  Heavy knocks on the door.

  Bram leapt to his feet and almost tripped over Dog, who gave a low huff in warning. He glanced at Lioslath, who didn’t hide her smirk as he wiped the sleep from his eyes and face.

  Knocks again. More insistent.

  ‘Come in,’ Lioslath called out.

  ‘Are you in pain?’ he asked, as Donaldo charged into the room.

  ‘Nae, not today,’ she said.

  ‘Riders with carts are cresting the northern hill,’ Donaldo panted.

  Carts full of supplies for Clan Fergusson. Exactly as he ordered. Bram knew who crested the hill. It wasn’t an enemy, but Lioslath wouldn’t see it that way. ‘Prepare as much food as you can,’ he said. ‘They’ll be hungry.’

  Donaldo’s gaze darted to Lioslath before she nodded and let herself out the door.

  ‘Who are they?’ Lioslath asked, although she had to guess.

  ‘Colquhouns,’ he said, which wasn’t a lie. Not any more at least. He pulled on his hose over his braies. ‘They bring more supplies, wool, extra horses. Some winter barley and wheat to sow. There’s still time for planting.’ He pulled his tunic over his head and wrapped his belt around it. ‘It’s warmer here, so they brought oats, though they may not seed. For the rest, the ground continues to be soft, we could have crops by spring.’

  Lioslath’s face darkened. ‘Colquhouns,’ she said. ‘More of them.’

  He knew she wouldn’t be pleased. He pulled on his boots, tied the back of his hair. After the attack, Finlay had ridden out with five of his men to deliver the missives to the Colquhoun clan. A handful of Colquhouns remained here to make the necessary repairs before winter. Though there were fewer here, they still weren’t welcome. He was still not welcome.

  He sent the letters to Clan Colquhoun weeks ago, and he knew he had only a short time to win her trust before they arrived.

  So he exhausted himself in preparation, but it hadn’t been enough. For a fleeting moment, he wanted to try again, but what hadn’t he already told her to make her trust him again? Wildly, foolishly, he craved something to give them a chance. He knew he had destroyed everything between them that day in the forest. He knew once she saw who the riders were, she wouldn’t forgive him this time.

  ‘Love, we need to get you dressed,’ he said, helping her from the bed.

  ‘Stop calling me that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Lass or love. Signs of affection. There is nae affection between us and I do not want these Colquhouns to think there is. Especially since you’ll be riding home with them after the seeds are sown.’

  ‘We’re married. I’m not going anywhere.’

  She tensed under his hands. She was mostly dressed, her chemise thick, luxuriant, but not as soft as her skin.

  He dressed her now and allowed himself the barest of touches. It was all he could do not to kiss her.

  Instead, he carried her down the few steps and reluctantly released her. ‘Nae matter what happens next, remember I’m here to stay.’

  ‘I want to remember none of this.’ Even using her staff, Lioslath was forced to use Bram as support through the courtyard. By now she could see the two riders. A broad man with brown hair whipping against his face as he looked to the woman riding beside him. A tall, willowy woman, with flame-coloured hair that almost matched Bram’s.

  Gaira was here.

  Everything froze inside her. Everything, except more hurt and pain. Except the accusation in her words. ‘What have you done?’

  He didn’t answer her, so she was forced to look to him. Forced to see his grey eyes plead and demand. But the conflicting emotions in his eyes held nothing to the determined agony in his voice as he answered.

  ‘Remember, Lioslath, we’re married. You put your hand in mine, but I’m the one who won’t let go.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gaira was riding through the gates. Fergusson gates. Her hair, so similar to her brother’s, was multiple plaited. Her clothes were plain, serviceable, more like the clothes Bram now favoured. The clothes and hair were unexpected. Everything was unexpected. And very, very, unwelcome.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done this,’ she said.

  ‘Steady, Lioslath.’ Bram placed his hand against the small of her back. For comfort or to ensure she stayed still? ‘I only did what was necessary.’

  ‘You had nae right to ask your sister here. What are you manipulating now? I do not want to see your sister. I’m through negotiating with you.’

  A muscle ticked in his jaw and she knew she had hit her mark. ‘Nae negotiation, nae manipulation. Nae more with you.’

  ‘And I am to believe that?’

  ‘I hoped you would by now.’ Grey eyes stormed with a light she didn’t want to guess at. She was seeing it too often now. Guilt again for her injury? No. This was an almost desperate emotion. Difficult to recognise on Bram. For how could someone like him be desperate? Conquerors were never desperate. Great negotiators would never have their backs against the wall.

  Jerking her gaze away, she observed the man dismounting. He was a hair shorter than Bram, but broad throughout and walked with the lethal grace of a man used to training. He would have looked deadly except when his eyes met Gaira’s as he helped her dismount. Then they smiled as if they were welcome, as if this was a friendly visit.

  ‘What do you think to gain from this? What do you hope to prove?’

  ‘Everything, Lioslath. I’m showing you everything. My only hope is you’ll accept it.’

  When they approached, Gaira gave only a quick glance to her brother before she said, ‘I can see from your expression my wanwitty brother surprised you with our presence.’

  Gaira turned to Bram. ‘Some day you’ll dictate the life of one person too many.’ With a wave of her hand, she continued. ‘Lioslath, this is my husband, Robert of Dent.’

  Dent. Dent wasn’t Scottish. The man stood close by Gaira’s side, his arm around her as if he was giving her support or protection. As if he was waiting for a reaction.

  It didn’t take Lioslath long to feel a reaction. Lioslath felt the blood leave her face before she felt the sudden weakness in her leg and she leaned more heavily on her staff and Bram.

  Shards of ice. Flames of heat. Anger. Grief. This was Gaira’s husband...and he was English.

  Gaira had travelled from Doonhill to Colquhoun land with four children. But she hadn’t been alone on the journey. This man had stood beside her. Robert had been there when her father came for Gaira.

  ‘It was you,’ she said, no question in her voice, only accusation.

  No surprise in their expressions. She was facing the woman who caused her father’s pursuit and the man who ended his life. And she didn’t have a blade in her hand.

  ‘Aye,’ Robert said.

  She tried to tug her arm out of Bram’s. Instead, he cl
asped his hands with hers and wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t yank her arm free or she’d fall.

  ‘We should sit,’ Gaira said. ‘I need to sit.’

  Gaira wanted her to go inside, to be trapped. As if her leg wasn’t enough of a hindrance to her freedom. Especially now that she wanted to run amongst her precious trees and never see any of them again. Then she saw it, subtle, barely there, Gaira’s hand hovering over her flat stomach.

  Lioslath answered the only way her mother would have wanted. ‘Aye, we’ll go inside.’

  They walked awkwardly through the narrow door into the Hall, where the table and benches from the feast had been set up. The Hall had new rushes and was freshly scrubbed. The table and chairs made it look passable. So many changes since she agreed to marry Bram.

  Gaira sat as if the roughly hewn bench was a great seat with cushions and leaned a bit against Robert, who sat by her side.

  In the tenseness, the silence had its own sound against the barren walls.

  Lioslath wanted to leave right then, until she saw the kindness and wariness in Gaira’s eyes. So she waited. However, if they wanted her to talk, it wouldn’t happen. She could barely contain the emotions inside her as it was.

  ‘I suppose I should be the one to speak,’ Gaira said, turning to Bram. ‘What have you told her?’

  ‘Nothing I should have.’

  ‘Ach, it’s a start you realise that much.’

  Gaira glanced at Robert before beginning. ‘Bram, as laird, demanded I marry your father. I didn’t know about it until Busby stood in front of me ready to pledge to the marriage. I was shocked and hurt, and I allowed it.’

  Lioslath was glad she sat as she felt Bram tense next to her as if taking a blow. Lioslath didn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at him. Not when faced with the absolute truth. She knew Gaira spoke the truth.

  Bram had forced his sister into marriage.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell my father this?’ Lioslath asked, though she knew, she feared, the answer.

  Gaira braced herself as if this was the answer she dreaded to give. ‘Because your father was large, because he hadn’t said a kind word, because...I feared him.’

  Gaira had feared her father. A woman who had travelled with four orphans over enemy lands. If Gaira had feared her father, he had given her reason to fear him. Lioslath felt the stabbing pain of acknowledgement.

  Bram adjusted next to her as if he wanted to comfort her. She didn’t know how she would react if he touched her now.

  ‘And you?’ Lioslath addressed the man with his arm wrapped protectively around his wife.

  As if Lioslath would attack. But Lioslath couldn’t attack and it had nothing to do with having no weaponry. It had to do with the truth being told.

  ‘Busby attacked me in the village square on the way to Colquhoun land,’ Robert said.

  So he fought back. Robert was shorter than her father, but she didn’t doubt his skills. She knew a well-trained knight when she saw one.

  Gaira squeezed Robert’s arm. ‘Robert was at Doonhill, but not part of the massacre. He helped me get to Clan Colquhoun with the children. At the village, he was paying for supplies. If it wasn’t for him—’

  ‘Gaira,’ Robert said as if warning her, as if she said too much.

  Yet he hadn’t. Lioslath was recognising the truth. The journey was far, dangerous even with help. It was a miracle they survived.

  She felt more than pain now because she knew there was more here and they intended to tell her. They would brutalise her with the truth and she couldn’t take any more. Not here, not when she was trapped inside. ‘Nae more,’ she said.

  ‘Lioslath,’ Bram said.

  One word, her name, and yet it held so many possibilities and none of them she wanted to hear right now. Not while she was inside, feeling trapped with grief, with loss, with a truth she never wanted to know.

  ‘Bram, Robert, you should go,’ Gaira said steadily.

  ‘Lioslath,’ Bram repeated as he stood.

  Only then did Lioslath raise her eyes to him. ‘Go, Colquhoun, or I will shut the gates on you again.’

  * * *

  Lioslath didn’t know how long it was before Gaira finally spoke. ‘You aren’t angry with me.’

  She wanted to be furious at Gaira, but how could she be angry at a pregnant woman who didn’t wear fancy clothing or have several servants waiting on her?

  Gaira wasn’t what she expected.

  But Bram was. Controlling his family and hers as well. All this time and he had known who the killer of her father was. He had known. She hadn’t thought herself capable of getting hurt more by him. How was it possible she continued to be hurt by him?

  ‘I was until I knew who was truly to blame,’ she said.

  ‘Did my brother ask you to marry him or did he demand it?’

  It was a question Lioslath wasn’t expecting, but she knew the answer. ‘He announced it before the entire clan. Perhaps demanding is the only way he knows.’

  ‘Ach, he can be a daupit eel-drowner!’

  Lioslath blinked.

  Gaira gave a laugh. ‘I’ve known him awhile.’

  ‘I’d say you know him well.’

  Gaira tilted her head and, for a moment, Lioslath could see the family resemblance.

  ‘Aye, and I can tell he’s changed,’ Gaira continued.

  Not that Lioslath could see. Constantly manipulating people, even now. ‘I’m sorry he brought you here.’

  ‘Are you? Or are you simply sorry you’re meeting me?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t have come when you are pregnant.’

  Gaira smiled and waved her hand. ‘I didn’t want to say anything, since this meeting was about you, not me.’

  ‘You almost fell over in my courtyard.’

  ‘Is that why you invited me inside?’

  ‘The only reason.’ She had been blindsided by their arrival. But now that she had time to reflect, she knew she’d have eventually invited Gaira in. Bram already told her of Gaira’s bravery with the children. ‘But I do have questions.’

  ‘So...before...he told you nothing about me?’

  Little things, small details, mostly she hadn’t listened. ‘It wouldn’t have been to his advantage.’

  ‘That sounds too much like him.’ Gaira shook her head. ‘He demanded I come here. He demanded it. Given my history with him and Robert’s protectiveness, he must have been desperate to make such a demand.’

  Why would the almighty Laird Colquhoun be desperate to reveal the truth to her? He had to know she’d want nothing to do with him once she knew of Robert.

  ‘He wrote to me about you.’ Gaira raised her hand. ‘Not a lot, but enough.’

  ‘For what?’

  Gaira looked at the opened doors. ‘Bram wants me here...for you. You mean something to him. He’s never done anything like this. He’s trying to change.’

  Lioslath could see no evidence of that. ‘He didn’t tell me you were coming.’

  ‘Can you blame him?’

  ‘Aye,’ she said.

  Gaira laughed again. ‘Good, then for once he did something right.’

  It wasn’t only Bram she didn’t understand. It was the entire Colquhoun clan. ‘You think lying and manipulating me was right?’

  ‘Nae, I think marrying you was right.’

  Before she could answer, Donaldo and Cook brought in platters of food.

  ‘Oh, thank you for this,’ Gaira said, already helping herself to slices of venison. ‘I’m so hungry!’

  It had to be the oddest conversation she’d ever had. She should be throwing daggers at this woman for fleeing her father, for causing his death. For marrying his murderer.

  And all she did was pour ale into c
ups as if she was the lady of the manor. Then she remembered that it was Bram who requested the food and drink. Had he expected this to happen? How could she trust a man who was so good at understanding people, when she didn’t understand them at all and never did?

  Perhaps Gaira believed them happily married. As if this were a joyous affair. Apparently, Bram didn’t tell his sister all the details either.

  ‘Your brother didn’t choose to marry me and he didn’t intend to stay married.’

  Gaira lifted a cup to her lips. ‘My brother never does anything he doesn’t want to do. So this is a story I’d like to hear, if you’d care to tell it.’

  Lioslath did. From the very beginning, from the siege to the present, and all the while Gaira ate, drank, listened. When she was done, Gaira said, ‘You can’t tell me he didn’t want to marry you. He declared it before all.’

  ‘I ruined his plans. Backed him into a corner.’

  ‘I see how he looks at you, and nae man has ever backed Bram into a corner he couldn’t talk himself out of.’

  Lioslath almost believed her.

  ‘But as for it being temporary at the beginning?’ Gaira took a small bite of bread. ‘He is Laird Colquhoun. He has duties which conflict with him being here.’

  ‘He told me of the Jewel of Kings.’ And it bothered her. If he had such a duty to his clan over the jewel, why had he come here at all? Why did he stay when Malcolm was certainly in danger? Another reason why he couldn’t be dependable.

  ‘If he told you, he must have wanted to marry you. Even though you may not trust him.’

  Lioslath shrugged and took a drink. She couldn’t trust him.

  ‘This is difficult when it’s clear you already love him.’

  Lioslath choked.

  ‘You do. You must or else the moment you saw us coming, you would have been gone. You waited to hear what I had to say. You wanted to hear what I had to say. Bram was right, you needed me here so you could trust him.’

  She blamed her watering eyes on her difficulty swallowing. Was it true? Was any of it true?

  ‘That being said, I still would like to ask a favour.’