Brianna remembered the cool caress across her fingers before Colin left her. She knew he wanted to see her. But what did one say to the other when a misunderstanding of shame led to a forced union?
• • •
Colin’s feet pounded down the stairs of the castle. Light slanted in through the windows overhead and streaked the hall. He needed to get outside. He needed to find his men and rip into his fury in mock battle lest it consume him.
The castle’s shaded interior offered no comfort, and he felt only relief when he was free of its closing walls. Energy fired through his body with each step, burning like hot metal in his tense muscles.
He hated being sent away, being forced to leave Brianna’s side when she needed him most.
In the distance, the band of guards was slowly dispersing.
Though their training for the day had finished, several men milled about. Alec stood off to the side, overseeing the proper storage of the practice weapons. He raised an eyebrow as Colin approached.
“What’s got ye so riled?” he asked.
The image of Lindsay standing between Brianna’s naked legs slammed into Colin. “Is my anger so obvious?”
Alec smirked. “It is when I know ye well enough.” He stepped closer and spoke in Gaelic. “What happened?”
Colin glanced toward the lingering men. “If ye knew me well enough, ye’d know I’m no in the mood to talk.”
“Ach, that doesna happen often.”
Colin wasn’t in the mood for jests. He braced his hand against Alec’s shoulder and shoved hard, sending him staggering backward.
Alec’s face went dark. “Ye missed practice earlier.” His black blade slipped from its scabbard with a menacing hiss. “And now ye pick a fight with yer better?”
Colin’s blood sizzled in his veins, blending frustration and anger into one raw emotion. He gripped the handle of his sword and slid it free. “My better?”
He lunged, and the sharp edge of his blade slashed the air. Alec blocked the blow and darted left.
Colin’s attacks were automatic, motions borne of impulse rather than thought. Alec’s weapon crossed in front of him and blocked the attack. Still, Colin did not relent. He pushed forward with his sword, bending his friend backward.
“What the hell is wrong with ye?” Alec asked raggedly.
Colin grunted and shoved with all his might until Alec bent backward once more. “That cousin whoreson of hers tried to force himself on her, and I walked in on him,” he growled in Gaelic.
Alec’s sword dipped. “What?” He managed to pull his weapon up before Colin struck again.
Their blades crossed once, twice. Colin took a step back and drew a lungful of air. The swords they fought with were not blunted for practice; they were sharpened for killing. “I tried to save her and now I appear guilty.”
“They think ye raped her?” Alec asked.
Colin shook his head. “But she’s compromised now, aye?”
The concern on Alec’s face gave way to nonchalance. “Well, ye wanted to wed the lass anyway.” He flicked the tip of his blade against Colin’s sword. “Dinna let the fight go out of ye yet. I’m finally getting some good practice.” He grinned and caught Colin around the back of the neck with his hand.
Colin ducked from Alec’s grasp and brought his sword up once more. Damn it, Brianna was supposed to fall in love with him, or at least desire him enough to agree to marry him. He was not supposed to have to force her to be his wife. He sidestepped Alec’s jab.
He needed the land, but he wanted her trust.
His blade lashed out and skittered against Alec’s block.
Now she thought he’d taken advantage of her. Now she knew he’d kept his identity from her. His only hope was that she would assume he was next in line for the MacKinnon lairdship.
Alec’s sword rang against his.
Years of his serving beneath Kieran MacDonald had not been enough to impress his father, nor apparently had the fortune he’d accumulated in his travels. Colin tightened his fist on the pommel of his sword and swung at Alec.
Colin’s father had remained unimpressed and deemed him a poor choice for laird.
Selfish.
He thrust his weapon, and Alec narrowly evaded the blow.
Reckless.
Colin’s blade whistled through the air as he struck again.
Impulsive.
The impact of Alec’s block vibrated against Colin’s palm. Alec stepped back out of his path and held up his hand.
“I thought ye wanted a fight,” Colin ground out between his teeth. His father’s words raced through his head, each one pounding with the rage already pulsing there, mingling with the offense of his father’s choice for future laird. A rare spark of humiliation burned through Colin. His younger twin brother would be laird.
Alec lunged forward once more, his dark blade nicked with silver glinting in the late afternoon sun.
Colin evaded Alec’s blow, his muscles singeing with heat. His friend had not yet had time to recover before Colin swung his weapon once more.
No father left his land to the second son. No father, but Colin’s.
A brilliant spot of red appeared on Alec’s forearm and broke through the fog of Colin’s anger.
He dropped his blade and caught Alec’s arm in his hand. “Why dinna ye say something?”
Alec grunted. “And admit I let ye beat me?” He slid his sword into the scabbard behind his shoulders.
Colin pulled back the sleeve of his friend’s leine. A narrow ribbon of blood appeared where he’d been caught with the sharp edge of the blade.
“How ‘bout ye find a fair lass to croon over my battle wound and then tell me the rest over an ale, aye?” Alec lifted his eyebrows in an uncommon show of playfulness. “Yer coin.”
Colin stared down at the cut. He was fortunate it had not been deeper, more debilitating. He glanced back to the garden entrance, and his heart shuddered with an angst he could not give name to. Brianna had still not emerged. The healer’s hunched figure slowly ambled across the cobblestone.
“Aye, I’ll do all those things with ye, Alec. After I see to Brianna.”
“All the better. That way we can celebrate yer marriage too.” Alec slapped Colin on the back.
If only it were so easy. Something told Colin his future wife would not be as comfortable with the idea of their union.
Chapter Fifteen
Did there have to be so many halls in Edzell? Colin quickened his pace and turned yet another corner toward Brianna’s solar. The aging healer had assured him she was well, but he needed to see for himself. To ensure color touched skin that had been too pale, and that her labored breath came now with ease.
His knuckles rapped upon the heavy wooden door.
“Enter.” The feminine voice on the other side was surprisingly strong.
He pushed the door open and crossed over the threshold. She stood by an open window, her stiff back facing him. The door thunked closed behind him. Still, she did not turn.
“You came more quickly than I’d anticipated you would,” she said, her tone flat.
Everything about her stance indicated she did not wish him to be near her, yet he could not force himself to stay away. He strode toward her, the consequences be damned. “I have been worried about ye.”
“I’m well. The healer said I had been poisoned.” Her head lifted sharply. “I no longer feel its effects.”
Colin stopped just behind her and followed the graceful curve of her neck with his eyes. He wanted to stroke his fingertips against the exposed flesh, to confirm her skin was of a normal temperature. To feel her sweet softness once more.
Brianna turned toward him, her face a practiced mask of indifference. “Why did you not tell me who you were?”
But her eyes were not indifferent. Hurt showed there. She had trusted him, and what he saw showed she felt she’d been betrayed.
“Ye dinna ask.” Colin inwardly cringed at his own words.
&nb
sp; She stared up at him without saying a word. He tensed in preparation for her anger, her frustration at what he knew she’d see as him lying. But he got none of those. Instead, her shoulders sagged beneath the sigh of an exhale, and her head dropped forward in defeat.
“It matters little why you chose not to tell me. If you came here to propose marriage, you are getting what you wish, regardless of what I desire.” Sorrow laced her words, and the weight of her regret settled on his shoulders.
Damn that Robert Lindsay shite. Colin had been doing well with Brianna before this. Now she was being forced, and the shield he’d worked so hard to disarm was back with a vengeance.
God, she’d been bonny with her guard stripped away, her face soft with passion, her eyes bright and carefree. He would see her thus again, no matter what it took.
“Ye still have a choice, Brianna,” he said.
She folded her arms tight over her chest and curled her shoulders forward. “I will not have you hanged for a crime you did not commit.”
So she knew he was innocent in this. That knowledge meant more to him than he thought it would.
He lowered his voice. “Ye know what happened?”
She gave a terse nod. “Thomas told me.”
He captured her hand in his, and, while she remained aloof, she did not pull away. “Let us work through this together. Marry me, and we can put everything behind us.”
Her face was impassive, but her breasts rose and fell rapidly with her quickened breath. “You ask me to marry you as if we have a choice.”
“Aye.” Colin watched her with careful consideration, noting the white lines around her lips.
“I care for ye, Brianna.” He longed to cup the warm silk of her face in his hand, to show her just how much he cared. “I want ye,” he said softly.
She gave him a sharp glare and pulled her hand from his grasp. “And you want Edzell.” Her shoulders straightened. “To think, all the men who sought the power of my wealth, and it’s the man posing as my Captain of the Guard who secures it.”
“And a Highlander, no less,” he teased.
Her cheeks flushed to a bonny pink. “How can you joke about this? We are being forced to marry.”
“No one is forcing me to ask ye.”
Her gaze settled on her fingers clasped within his. “I’m educated. I can speak and write in seven languages, and I prefer doing numbers to needlework. I have no desire for children.” She thrust her jaw out in that stubborn way she did. “I’m not an ideal choice for a wife.”
Her palm was hot and moist in his hand. It was obvious she did not want this and was trying to talk her way out of it. Insulting him, however, was hardly the way to accomplish that.
His thumb brushed the underside of her exposed wrist, where her skin was softer than the finest silk. She drew in a soft breath, and he knew she was not as unaffected as she perhaps wanted to be.
“Companionship will come with time,” he said. “We share something deep, something compulsive.” He leaned over her so the delicate scent of lavender tickled his nose, and his skin sizzled near the warm heat of her body.
He felt her proud stance soften. “You are not a good fit for me,” she whispered.
It was a paltry defense. One he would see stripped away.
He traced the gentle sweep of her neck with the back of his fingers. “I disagree.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from her brow. “We are a perfect fit for one another.”
Her face tilted toward his, and the glint of desperation melted away.
His fingers trailed along the sides of her narrow waist. “There is a pull between us that I’ve no ever felt before.” He gently tugged her toward him. “I dream of yer lips against mine, of your scent surrounding me as I caress every soft curve of yer body.”
Her lashes swept across her rosy cheeks. He bent over her, nuzzling her ear, and whispered in Gaelic. “Nuair a bhios sinn ceanailte, chuiridh mi mo theanga far an robh mo mheoir.”
She stiffened beneath his fingertips.
When we are wed, I cannot wait to slide my tongue where my fingers have been.
Her eyes went wide and her head jerked back in disbelief. Apparently, one of her seven languages was Gaelic. Quite the pleasant surprise.
He caught her hand again before she could push away from him. “Just because I can say it in a different language doesna make it any less crude, aye?”
She yanked her hand back and crossed her arms once more. “You’ve made your point.”
“Brianna, I canna promise I will be the best fit for ye or that every day of our lives together will be perfect. I can promise ye that I will try to be the best husband to ye that I can. I will protect ye with the last breath in my body.” He grinned down at her, “I may even let ye win at a debate with me—in Italian. If ye ask nicely.”
A small smile crept over her lips. “Impossible. You don’t speak Italian, do you?”
“No,” he confessed. “But perhaps ye can teach me something new.” He stroked her velvety cheek and leaned close to her once more. His finger skimmed across the petal softness of her lower lip and trailed down her slender throat. “Until our wedding day, my lady.”
With a delicate, nibbling kiss to her neck, he stepped back and bowed low before quitting the room, leaving a red-cheeked Brianna staring after him.
Chapter Sixteen
Stained light poured in through the chapel’s windows and cast an assortment of colors over the sea of faces staring at Brianna. Flowers dotted every available space, and the scent of fresh herbs stirred from underfoot.
Nervous flames flicked from the many candles spread around the room. They gave off as much heat as they did light. Her brow tingled, and she hoped she had not begun to sweat.
“Do you take this man as your husband?” Thomas repeated once more. His voice resonated over the subtle shifts and awkward squirms of the congregation.
Colin stood at her side, his confident smile never wavering, despite her obvious hesitation. He looked remarkably handsome with his rich auburn hair tied back. His sharp jaw was clean-shaven and made his skin appear surprisingly smooth and soft. Even his barbaric attire held a level of elegance she had not seen before. His leine was crisp, his kilt perfectly pleated around his waist, and a finely crafted gold pin accented the length of plaid slung over his shoulder.
Handsome did not change the fact that he would be the man to strip her of her freedom. Postponing her acquiescence to their union would not keep the event from happening. Nothing would.
She had no choice. “I do.”
A collective sigh rose from the masses behind her, and Colin’s dimple showed with his broad grin.
And so it was done. Her life in forfeit for his. She glanced back at the faces of the very people she had saved from her uncle, and her heavy heart lifted. Their joy was genuine, and their affection obvious in their smiles. No matter how difficult marriage would be to endure, her people seemed happy with Colin.
He clasped her hand in his, and something cold and heavy slipped onto the fourth finger of her left hand.
She glanced down and found a thin gold band with a brilliant set round emerald shining up at her. Her stomach flipped, and she covertly scanned the attendees of their wedding. Not the nobles who covered their emotions easily, but the familiar faces of her people. The congregation did not appear as shocked as she at such a blatant display of the popish old ways.
The caress of Colin’s thumb against her finger pulled her attention back to him. “I hope ye like it,” he said in a quiet voice. “It belonged to my mother.”
Brianna bit the inside of her cheek and nodded. “It’s lovely,” she managed. Indeed, the ring was beautiful, but the act of presenting her with it could be construed as Catholic sympathy. Edzell would not do well with unfavorable attention from the church.
Colin’s hands wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her closer toward him. “I believe I get to kiss my bride, aye?”
Cheers erupted behind them, along with sev
eral inappropriate jests.
Thomas lowered his head, but not before Brianna caught his quick smile. “That you do, laird.”
Discomfort sizzled in Brianna’s cheeks. She tensed at Colin’s touch, unsure what to expect.
He leaned closer, and her pulse fluttered with an anticipation she could not disregard. She closed her eyes, and the heat of his mouth stopped just over hers. His hand slid behind the back of her head, his thumb caressing her cheek. Her breath came fast. He had held her thus before.
His mouth closed over hers in a kiss passionate enough to declare her as his, but tame enough to be socially appropriate. The smooth skin of his chin glided against hers, and the spicy scent of his breath sent a chill of excitement raking across her flesh. He was delicious to kiss with his face clean-shaven.
Much as Brianna hated to admit it, she wanted to stand on her toes and crush her mouth to his, to let his smooth face rub hers again and again as their tongues entangled in a fire of wild heat.
Instead, she remained straight-backed and stiff in his arms. She refused to allow herself to demonstrate the wanton behavior that was doubtless expected by the neighboring lords. The urgency of their wedding was already enough to send tongues wagging.
The tip of Colin’s tongue flicked slowly between her lips, and a little whimper sounded in her throat before she could stop it.
He gave a low chuckle and broke off the kiss. “I canna listen to those sounds ye make or it will be a short celebration.” His words were lost to others beneath the cheers of the congregation. “But tonight—” His lips grazed her neck, just below her earlobe. “I promise to make ye verra, verra happy.”
Brianna’s nipples drew tight and her cheeks stung with the force of her blush. He released her with a wink and wrapped her icy hand in the warmth of his.
She shoved aside her desire and accepted his attention for what it was. He was trying to sway her with intimacy and the promise of pleasure.
Soon he would realize she would not be so easily won. Passion would not respect her opinions or allow her freedom. She looked at him from beneath her lowered lashes. How long before his relaxed demeanor would tense? How long before his charming smiles drifted toward other women? How long before his tender touches would become cruel?
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