Highlander's Wicked Game: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Novel

by Fiona Faris

  Turning to the laird, Marra apologized for wasting his efforts in providing a feast for her remaining clansmen. “Dinnae fash, lass. Ye alone are worthy o’ the effort,” Fergus waved away her apologies. “If they choose tae join us, there is plenty for all.”

  “I cannae remain if my fellow clansmen and women refuse tae follow.” She did not wish to leave, but she would have little choice unless she was willing to abandon her clan.

  “Ye cannae return and put yerself in further danger,” Duncan argued, frowning.

  Marra appreciated his concern more than he would ever know. “My people need me, Duncan. With Faither gone, I am all they have left tae see tae their wellbeing. Ye ken as well as I what will happen tae them without the protection o’ a chieftain. If they refuse tae come here where they will be under yer faither’s protection, then I must return with Diana tae the island when the time comes. I cannae allow a man as full o’ hatred as Ian is tae lead our people. If he were tae be allowed tae take charge, our respective clans would be at war in less than a fortnight.”

  “I will no’ just let ye go without protection. The man who took ye is still out there, as are the men who killed yer faither.” Duncan protested with such passion that she laid her hand on his arm in comfort.

  “I ken it all tae well, but I have a responsibility tae my clan as their lady.”

  “Ian has made it quite clear that he will no’ follow a woman nae matter if she is the Lady o’ the Isles.”

  “I am well aware.” Marra smiled at his use of her family’s former title before they had been defeated centuries before. She was fairly certain that a large portion of her father’s grudge against his family had been a continuance of that original feud against the Campbells. She knew something had happened between their fathers at the Battle of Dunkeld, but they had never revealed what it was. Unless Duncan’s father decided to share with his son the cause of the feud, it would most likely die with him; but the hatred they had planted within their people would go on unless she and Duncan found a way to reconcile the differences.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Duncan could not believe that Marra was willing to risk her life by leaving the protection of his father’s keep after everything that she had been through. It was unfathomable to him to simply stand by and allow her to go without doing everything within his power to dissuade her. The need to keep her safe was all he could think about from the moment he had found her in that croft tied up on the floor. I cannae lose her now that I have found her. When he closed his eyes he could still feel her head on his chest, skin against skin.

  Every time he attempted to dissuade her from leaving, she would rebuff him. When Diana regained consciousness, he escorted Marra down to see her. The maid had come very close to dying in the days following the attack, and Marra had gone to visit her everyday, spending hours at her bedside talking, singing, reading; anything to let her know that she was there. Duncan had stood guard by the door, her voice floating through the opening and enchanting him to his very soul with every syllable that fell from her lips. He determined to never let her out of his sight and had acted as her guard and escort everywhere but her bedchamber. The more time he spent with her, the harder he fell, enamored by her grace, compassion, and ethereal beauty.

  His heart longed to take her into his arms and keep her there always, but since their last kiss, she had resisted his caresses. He was not sure what had caused her reticence when they had shared so much together in the highland croft, but since coming to stay at the MacGregor keep, she had been every bit the lady, discarding any and all passion or feeling for him. Since their conversation about her returning home on the first night at the castle, she had withdrawn into herself, but for when she was with Diana. He knew she was concerned about her maid’s wellbeing and attempted to give her the emotional space she desired while still guarding her bodily person. Ian had been of little aid in making her to feel at ease in his presence, constantly ridiculing Marra for consorting with the enemy. It took every bit of his strength for him not to hit the man every time he opened his mouth.

  As Duncan stood in the doorway watching Marra and Diana embrace, both weeping with joy for her miraculous escape from death, his heart constricted in his chest. She would be leaving him as soon as her maid was able to travel. Ian walked up to him and stood barring his view of the beautiful scene. “What is it, MacDonald?” he asked barely concealing his dislike for the man.

  “Now that my sister is awake, we will be leavin’ as soon as the healer says she is able tae travel. Have ye heard back from yer emissaries yet?”

  “Nae, I have no’. I sent my cousin Lachlan tae the MacDonald lands farthest tae the north, so I would nae expect tae have heard from him as o’ yet, but the others should return any time now.”

  “I have no’ heard anythin’ from Robert or Liam either,” Marra’s voice called from behind them. Ian turned to look at her, surprised that he had been overheard.

  “Then I should no’ fash just yet. It is unlikely that they would harm one o’ their own.” He had been growing concerned for his men, but hearing that none of the envoys had returned brought him some reassurance.

  “Nae, I dinnae believe that they would harm either my men or yers, Duncan,” she reassured him.

  “I am greatly surprised that my brother allowed ye tae bring me here,” Diana admitted to Marra.

  “It was either this or ye died,” Ian growled with disgust. “I will be glad tae leave as soon as is possible.”

  “E’en after spendin’ these days among us, ye still believe my people tae be yer enemies?” Duncan asked, shaking his head in dismay at the man’s stubborn prejudices. “We have shown ye nothin’ but kindness and hospitality.”

  “And for that I am grateful, but I will no’ rest easy until my feet rest once more on my island home.” Ian’s eyes took on a somewhat wistful expression as if he were picturing the beautiful blue grey waters and green forests in his mind. “E’en a day apart from her sweet earth is tae long away.” He spoke with the tone one would use for a cherished lover.

  Duncan was surprised to find himself feeling envious of the man’s certainty. He had never felt anything akin to what Ian felt for Jura about his own home. He had always felt more at home in the wild, hunting game and living off of the land as he went. He had not been on a hunt since meeting Marra at the gathering. He missed the peace of the forest, and he longed to share it with her. He promised himself that if they all made it through the coming days unscathed, he would take her.

  “’Twill ne’er be the same with the laird gone and the castle destroyed,” Diana murmured sadly from her pallet.

  “Nae, it will no’,” Marra agreed, her eyes misting with tears.

  Duncan fought the urge to move forward and take her into his arms. It pained him to see her suffering so, and he longed to take away her pain but did not know how. “I sent a clergyman this morning to consecrate the burial grounds as ye wished,” Duncan informed them, hoping that it would assuage their grief in some small measure.

  “I thank ye for yer kindness,” Marra remarked, smiling up at him through her tears. “The matter was weighing heavy upon my thoughts. Tae have faither and our dear kinsmen laid tae rest in unconsecrated ground would be a sacrilege.”

  “Indeed,” Diana agreed. She nodded her head in agreement and let out a cry of pain.

  “Dinnae move,” scolded the healer, Idonea. “Ye are disturbin’ her rest. Ye should all go now and allow her tae sleep. She will need all o’ the rest she can get if she is tae make the journey back to Jura any time soon.”

  “Aye. Forgive the intrusion, Idonea. Diana it is good tae see yer bright shinin’ eyes once more. Ye had us all quite worried for a time.” Duncan stepped forward, kissed the maid’s hand, and aided Marra up from where she sat on the floor beside her maid’s pallet. They stepped out of the croft together and into the sunlight.

  Pulling her hand through his arm, he led her down to the water’s edge so that she might see the outline
of her island home from the shore. “I dinnae wish for ye tae go, Marra.”

  She turned and met his eyes. “Ye ken that I must, Duncan.” She extracted her hand from his and sat down on a flat rock by the water. She removed her shoes and stockings, allowing her feet to dangle in the cool sea, waves gently lapping at her pale white toes.

  Duncan moved to sit next to her, but did not touch her. “Why have ye pulled away from me these last days? Ye have gone from returnin’ my embrace with fevered passion, tae turnin’ away from me at every opportunity.”

  Marra looked out over the water toward Jura. “If I dinnae push ye away, I will ne’er be able tae leave ye, and I cannae abandon my people nae matter how much I may cry out for yer touch in the dark o’ night.” She turned to look at him, tears in her eyes.

  Unable to stop himself, Duncan pulled her into his arms and kissed her as a man starved. He tangled his fingers in her long red tresses, holding her to him. “I cannae let ye go,” he whispered against her lips. Her breath, quickened from the kiss, tickled his skin, sending sensations coursing throughout his entire body. He wanted nothing more than to lay her down in the grass right there and make love to her. “Marra, I…”

  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 r
ed 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.”