by Laura Glenn
A comment laced with sarcasm was shouted from the back of the hall, sending the room into a fit of laughter. Mary laughed and squeezed Leah’s hand.
Leah met Mary’s gaze and then followed it as she tilted her head toward the crowd. Leah caught Rathe’s eyes and the corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smile as he gave her a reassuring wink. He stood just in front of the crowd, arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart. A warm sense of ease filled her and she exhaled a long sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar face in the loud, rowdy crowd of men.
David hushed the crowd and spoke again, motioning Rathe forward with a crook of his finger. As Rathe moved, another man approached the dais from the other side of the hall. Tall, lean, and graceful, the man sauntered toward her. Thick, dark-blond hair tucked behind one ear and falling forward in a deliberate sweep on the other side, framed the sharp and confident features of his face. He offered her a magnetic smile, giving her a glimpse of his perfectly aligned, pearly white teeth.
Neither he nor Rathe acknowledged the other as they stopped in front of Leah. David appeared at her side and offered her his hand in assisting her to stand.
“Leah, I would like for you to meet Andrew MacTavish of Nevis.”
Clear, nutmeg-colored eyes met hers with cool self-assurance bordering on arrogance. Leah had seen this before—namely in the eyes of the young, hotshot lawyers with whom Simon hung around.
“It is an honor, my lady, to fight for the hand of a woman of such beauty and accomplishment,” Andrew intoned in a melodious voice as he reached for her hand. Her gaze was drawn to the deep cleft in his chin. “I do hope I will make you proud to call me your husband.”
Leah’s lips parted in surprise as he bent his head over her hand and pressed his mouth to it.
She darted a glance at Rathe, almost missing the flash of blinding fury leaping from his green eyes. His jaw tensed and then gave way to a stony, unreadable expression.
“And this is Rathe Sinclair of Duncraig,” David stated, turning toward Rathe.
Her brow wrinkled as she regarded the mormaer with confusion. It was no secret now she and Rathe knew one another. David had been the one to send him after her earlier that day.
David’s stare at her intensified. It was almost as though he was encouraging her to keep their acquaintance to herself. She forced her tensed shoulders to relax and turned toward Rathe.
“My lady.” Rathe’s voice moved over her like liquid silk as he took her hand in his.
His touch in this very public place sent a shock through her skin. Standing on the dais, she was almost eye to eye with him, much as she had been when they met on the stairs the previous night. Her pulse raced, sending a rush of heady sensations through her body as his flesh pressed into hers.
Lord, was she ever in trouble.
He lifted her hand as though to bring it to his lips and she held her breath, desperate to remain unfazed for once. But then he yanked her forward and she fell against him. His lips smashed into hers.
The thunderous uproar of cheers rang in her ears as his mouth slanted over hers hard. Startled by the vehemence of his possessive kiss, she pushed against his chest with her palms, but her hips moved forward, pressing against his in complete surrender.
As quickly as he had drawn her toward him, he released her. Enraged shouts burst forth as several men rushed forward from the crowd to prevent Andrew from attacking Rathe.
Andrew’s cheeks turned crimson as he shoved against the men holding him back. He pointed at Rathe, shouting something in Gaelic as spittle flew from his mouth.
Rathe’s eyes narrowed as he shook off the man pushing against his chest. As a hush fell over the crowd, Rathe spoke in a low, icy voice as he glared at Andrew.
A chill rushed through her as she caught the bestial, murderous glint in Rathe’s eyes. Alpina’s accusations of Rathe’s violent tendencies haunted her. He had denied killing either of his wives and he had seemed sincere. But now…how could she be certain? As his muscles tensed, his stare at his prey intensified. He appeared to shape-shift from a confident and gentle lover into a barely human, bloodthirsty warrior from the netherworld.
The man next to him spoke but Rathe ignored him, focusing upon Andrew. She followed his lethal gaze to Andrew’s equally deadly glare. But as soon as her eyes met Andrew’s, his face relaxed and he fell back into a charming, calm expression.
“Let the lady decide then,” Andrew remarked in English. “Methinks such a delicate jewel would prefer a man of honor to one with Lucifer’s black soul.”
Rathe rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “By all means, let the lady decide. After all, is it not more important to protect your undeserved reputation as a warrior than to lose to me?”
Andrew snorted. “You think she would choose a bastard barbarian who would use her like a common whore in front of these men?”
A cold, malicious smile tugged at one corner of Rathe’s mouth. “The lass needs a man with a strong, practiced hand, not a sniveling fool who has to manipulate his way between her legs.”
Snickers rose from a few men in the crowd. Andrew’s face reddened again as he pushed himself away from the men holding him back. Returning to Gaelic, he muttered and pulled his sword from its scabbard.
Rathe drew his sword in return and the crowd of men thundered their approval. Andrew dashed forward and their swords clashed, the din of metal on metal slicing through the roar of the men around them.
Leah shook her head, her heart leaping into her throat. This whole twisted situation was beyond insane. She couldn’t let this happen—no one should ever risk their life over her. “No!”
Large hands grabbed her by the elbows from behind and dragged her back. “Let them be, lass,” David instructed into her ear.
“No, I can’t let them do this!”
“You must.” David pulled her backward toward Mary and Alpina who ushered her into her chair.
She caught Rathe’s glance toward her and gasped as he barely dodged Andrew’s sword. Her stomach lurched and she squeezed her eyes shut, covering her face with her hands as the swords struck one another again.
Mary’s arm slipped around her waist and she gave Leah’s knee a reassuring pat as she murmured something in Gaelic into her ear. Leah struggled for breath. Her stomach twisted into knots as she shook her head in a frenzy of denial. This wasn’t her life. It was just a horrible nightmare and she needed to wake up now before she lost her sanity.
A cry of dismay escaped Alpina’s lips just before the crowd erupted into a cacophony of exuberant cheers. Mary squeezed Leah’s shoulders and through the bedlam Alpina launched into prayer mode once again. Mary silenced her with a sharp word.
And then Alpina was in front of Leah, pulling her hands away from her face. “My dear, look at me. It is over.”
Leah lifted her head and met Alpina’s wide eyes and paled face. “It is?”
Leah leaped to her feet, sending Alpina scrambling to the side. Leah scanned the crowd, her gaze landing upon Andrew. He held his sleeve to his right cheek and shook off the attentions of a servant woman who was attempting to press a cloth to his face. As he pulled his arm away, a fresh, bleeding gash was revealed on his cheek.
“I am so sorry, my dear,” Alpina stated as she grabbed Leah’s hand. “I am so very sorry.”
Shaking her head, Leah blinked back tears and pulled her hand away in impatience. Where was Rathe? Biting her lower lip, she walked to the other end of the dais, searching the crowd for any sign of him. Men were milling and cheering now in the area where the fight had taken place, but she still could not find him.
And then the hall fell silent as the crowd parted. Rathe’s eyes captured hers as he wiped the edge of his sword on his leine and shoved it back into its scabbard. Her breath caught in her throat as she scanned him for any injuries.
He was unharmed. She breathed a sigh of relief.
All eyes turned to Leah as Rathe advanced toward her. His predatory gaze locked on to her this
time, rendering her immobile. Why did this man always appear as though he was hunting her? Every movement of his body was forceful and controlled as he approached, strong but still somehow elegant. She jumped backward as he leaped upon the dais and seized her by the waist.
Rathe yanked her forward and slammed his lips against her mouth. Slanting them over hers, branding her. His desire swept over her, sending a thrilling swirl of surprise through her belly. This man—this powerful, alluring, dangerously hot man—wanted her. Her. Plain, shy, scared-of-everything Leah Gunn.
But for how long?
Simon had never kissed her like this. Ever. And he decided he didn’t want to be with her after six years together. Wouldn’t someone ten times as charismatic and sexy than Simon leave her just that much sooner?
He pulled away and grinned down at her with an air of smug satisfaction. “There you go again, lass. Looking like a frightened doe.”
Leah exhaled, his taste lingering upon her lips like a drug as he transformed from the bloodthirsty warrior back to the good-humored, sexy man on whom she was developing one serious crush. “You’re all right?”
He tilted his head, his brilliant green eyes twinkling as an expression of pleasure flitted across his handsome features. Lord, she didn’t think she could ever tire of looking at this man. A painful stab shot through her heart.
He tucked her hair back behind her ear. “Yes, I am fine.”
Someone spoke beside her and she turned to find a short, balding man dressed from head to toe in a black robe with a white collar at his neck. A new sense of dread settled into her stomach. Damn it, how could she forget the whole reason Rathe had risked his life?
“Already?”
“Of course, lass. Did the mormaer not explain?”
“Yes, but I—I can’t do this. Not yet. I’m not ready. I don’t know you.”
“You know how good we are together.” He slipped his hand around the back of her neck, his tone increasing in intensity. “The rest will come with time.”
Leah darted a furtive glance at the priest and then leaned toward Rathe. “Does he speak English?”
Rathe spoke to the priest who shook his head.
“I can’t marry you, Rathe,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I’m not supposed to be here. You need to take me home.”
“I cannot and I will not. I have already explained to you this is your home now.” His grip on her neck tightened, his features darkening.
A shiver of panic swept through her. If she married him, wouldn’t she be at his mercy? No choices, no freedom. Answering to him for every little thought and deed. The medieval version of marriage was not the type of adventure she was after. “I cannot stay here.”
A wounded expression crept into his eyes. “Why? Explain it to me.”
“Because I can’t. It’s different where I come from. No one is forced to marry if they don’t want to and no one threatens women with a public flogging for being disobedient.”
A flash of fury leaped from his eyes. “Did someone threaten you?”
“The mormaer was angry about me running away. I—”
“I will kill him,” Rathe muttered, turning his head toward David.
“No, Rathe, please. Just please understand I do not want to stay in a place where men think it is okay to do that to women. Where men are allowed to beat women. Where you could—”
He gritted his teeth as he turned his anger back to her. “Where I could what, exactly? You think I would hurt you? I have never laid a finger upon a woman in anger in my entire life.”
Her breath caught on the panic in her throat as his dark, wrathful scowl chilled her. “Please, Rathe. Please, I need to go.”
A mocking shout from the crowd behind Rathe was followed by several chuckles. A few tears escaped her eyes, falling onto her cheeks. Was it her or Rathe they were taunting?
“Stop,” he whispered, the hardness around his eyes softening. “You may cry all you want when we are alone, but not here. Not now. Do not give them the satisfaction.”
The knowing edge in his voice somehow comforted her and she wiped her eyes.
No, that couldn’t be. What did Rathe know of being made to feel small or helpless? He probably just didn’t want her to embarrass him in front of everyone.
Is that what all of this was about? He wasn’t interested in marriage either, but, now he had won the fight, would her refusal to follow through somehow humiliate him anyway?
But why had he even volunteered to fight?
The land, of course. It was the only logical explanation. After all, marriages in the higher social classes at this time were about the exchange of goods and land. She had been such a fool to think he actually wanted her.
But there was no other way out. Maybe, if she could help him save face he would be willing to help her in turn. “What if I marry you and you take me back to Graham land so that I can go home? You can have the land and anything else. None of it matters to me.”
Rathe froze for a split second before his eyes narrowed into wrathful slits. “You could so easily throw away your vows? Whether in your world or mine, you would still have promised yourself to me. There is nothing which would change that. You would always be my wife.”
Startled into silence, she stared at him. She had never uttered a single word she didn’t mean and had kept every promise she had ever made. His negative assumption caused her heart to sink like a stone. But why did he act so wounded? He didn’t want a wife. He’d said so himself.
It didn’t matter though. What mattered is that she got home.
Hostility lashed out from his eyes until a cold, calculating mask snapped into place over his face. “Fine. You marry me and the land will be mine. In one year’s time, I will take you back to Graham land and you can go back to your precious life and family. Wherever that is.”
She pushed away the jabbing pain of his tone. “One year? Why not tomorrow?”
“Because you must wait for the fall equinox. It is the only time the magic will work.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I have to wait a whole year?”
Rathe gave her a curt nod “Yes. And during that time you will act the part of my wife in every sense of the word. Agreed?”
Leah could no longer hold his gaze. She blinked away the renewed tears. He had only ever looked at her before as though she was a curiosity or as the most desirable woman in the world and. But no more. Now he regarded her with a mixture of disgust and annoyance.
God, she was so stupid. How could she think his attentions were the result of anything other than simple biology? He didn’t want her. He just wanted a warm body to fuck. And she was foolish enough to let him. Now he was using her for the land the king had granted to her. Why should she feel at all guilty for using him to get home?
“Agreed.”
Relief flowed through her limbs as he released her. The sudden absence of his warmth, however, caused her to shiver until he grabbed her hand and hauled her up against his side to face the priest.
“No arguments. No stalling,” Rathe growled down at her. “When the priest asks you if you take me as your husband, you will say yes.”
She nodded, biting her lower lip. If only her mother’s cautionary lectures about sex with strangers had included forced marriage to a thirteenth-century warlord. Maybe then she’d have run the other way.
Chapter Nine
Damn it.
Something from deep within tugged at Rathe as he watched his new wife sitting alone on the dais, toying with the food on the trencher they had shared once the feast was underway. She hadn’t eaten much and he did not push the matter, still too angry with her to risk uttering a single word for fear of shattering her delicate control and sending her into a fit of tears once again.
He had been harsh with her. But she’d surprised him by offering her spoken vows in exchange for her freedom. Her desire to return home was understandable, but why was she so afraid? Why was she always looking at him as though he were a ravenous wol
f?
Perhaps his reaction had been too harsh. The lass was a stranger in his world, after all. Even after five years with the MacAirths, his friend Galen’s wife, Anna, still misunderstood how their world worked.
But Rathe couldn’t help the sense of betrayal as Leah had stood before him, offering her promise to be his wife in name only. It was as though she’d taken up with another man before their marriage had even a chance to grow cold. Was there indeed another man waiting back home for her? He’d already had one wife eager to spread her legs for others and another with incessant complaints. The last thing he wanted was another woman like either of them.
And if he did keep his promise and allow Leah to go home in a year, would she marry another man without a single thought for the vows she had given to him tonight?
He shook his head, his stomach falling at the thought. Now was not the time to worry about such things. She was his for at least a year. Whether she liked him or not, she did enjoy his touch and wouldn’t deny him her body at the very least. Besides, if luck was on his side, he might just get the son he needed in the meantime.
His cock stirred and he almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of this woman’s power over him. No matter what she said or did, even if there was another man waiting for her at home who consumed her thoughts, Rathe wanted her. With each touch, each kiss, it became harder to stay away and to think of anything else.
But just how the hell was he supposed to give her up in a year when his affliction only worsened in her presence?
He downed the rest of the ale in his cup and set it upon the tray of a passing servant girl. Motioning to a couple of his men from across the room, he made his way over to his wife.
Dazed, Leah stared at the various meats and savory pies on the trencher before her. Rathe had abandoned her without a single word long ago and had been drinking with a group of loud, boisterous men across the room. She hadn’t had the stomach to look his way since repeating her vows to be his wife. Too terrified to find the expression of disgust still plastered on his face, she kept her gaze centered on her immediate surroundings. Even Alpina, who was normally so outspoken and social, hadn’t bothered an attempt to break through Leah’s silence, instead throwing looks of sympathy her way throughout the evening.
