A Hardened Warrior

by McQueen, Hildie

  “Oh, ye know, clothing for men to notice ye,” his father finished gruffly and cleared his throat.

  Despite the situation, Merida smiled at his discomfort. “So ye wish men to notice me now, do ye, Da?”

  Her father glared at her. “Only whoever ye will marry.”

  “Come along,” her mother said. “We have much to do and the day is half over.” Her keen eyes narrowed at Merida’s bare feet. “Why are ye barefoot?”

  Pretending not to hear, Merida looked to her father. “I wish to marry a man of my choosing.”

  “Ye have a duty to the clan,” her father replied, his gaze steadfast.

  All her life, she’d been groomed to be the wife of either a laird or high-standing man. Although she’d always wished for a choice of husband, Merida had always known this day would come. She pictured the eligible Mackenzies and had to admit most were attractive men. Only two of the laird’s sons remained single. However, she didn’t think the Mackenzie would marry her to either. No, she’d be married to a nephew or, perhaps, a bastard-born son.

  Letting out a sigh, she trudged through the great room and down a corridor into her chamber and looked around the orderly space.

  First, she’d remove the soiled gown and after changing, she’d send a messenger to Grier. She pictured the dying warrior back in the cabin. He was handsome, strong and his body was very enticing. It had been impossible not to notice as she’d cleaned his wounds and helped Grier with stitching them closed. They’d turned him onto his side to wash him and she’d bitten her lip at the sight of his plump, round bottom.

  Whoever he was would definitely be someone she could see as a bed partner.

  “Merida?” Her mother’s voice made her jump. When she rounded Merida and looked at her, it was almost comical. “Have ye gone daft, Child? Why are ye standing there with yer dress half off, staring at the wall?”

  It was one of her favorite things, to make her mother blush. “I was thinking of a man’s naked bottom.”

  As always, her mother’s cheeks turned a bright red. “Honestly, Merida, the things ye say.” Her mother took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle push. “I will fetch Elsa and Paige to come keep ye company while ye pack,” her mother said, referring to her companion and eldest brother’s new wife.

  *

  The next morning brought heavy snow and a frigid wind that halted all the plans for travel. Merida looked out the window at the falling flakes and wondered what Grier would do.

  She’d received a reprieve until spring. However, once spring came, there would be no excuse for not marrying.

  *

  Ross Keep

  Every second of the day became unbearable. Each breath and attempt to move was excruciating for Tristan. Days or perhaps weeks had passed, he had no way of knowing.

  The only thing he did know now was the constant wish for death. Anything was better than living like he was. Unable to move, talk or see. Whenever he was moved or jostled, he screamed silently, knowing outwardly all they saw were the salty tears that fell past his parched lips.

  “Tristan, open yer eyes.”

  “Tristan, can ye hear me?”

  Why did they not help him die? End the torture of his existence? He tried to tell them, fought to open his eyes but, as always, nothing happened.

  For some reason, he’d lost control of his body. Nothing obeyed his commands to move, open or speak. Weak from lack of nourishment and lying upon a bed for so long, he could not take anything more.

  He shivered when wet cloths wiped down his face and body and groaned when they turned him to clean his back.

  “Tristan, are ye cold?”

  “Drink this. Slowly.”

  His mother’s voice permeated the air and he almost smiled. He pried his eyes open and was just able to see her face. She didn’t seem different, not aged nor raged with concern. No, she seemed more curious than anything as she smiled at him. “There ye are, Lad. Drink this broth now.”

  Perhaps he drank, or maybe not. All the he knew for certain was that the pain didn’t ebb.

  Something jostled him out of slumber and Tristan frowned. He opened his eyes to find a dark hound turning in circles on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. The beast paid him little heed, too intent on ensuring the perfect spot to lie.

  “Titus.” Tristan’s voice was gruff with lack of use. “What are ye doing?”

  The dog cocked its head and studied him, then got to its feet and leaned over him, the dark eyes meeting his. It gave a low whine and, to Tristan’s surprise, the hound licked his face once and then returned to the quest for a perfect place to sleep.

  When it finally settled right next to his side, it let out a sigh and placed its large head on Tristan’s thigh.

  The animal’s warmth seeped into his body, giving him comfort. In that moment, Tristan realized the pain had ebbed enough that it wasn’t the first thing on his mind. Lips curving, he allowed slumber to overtake him.

  Chapter Two

  Spring

  With the grace of a highborn, Paige made her way through the people in the great room, her gaze on him the entire time. Alec McLeod was proud of his choice for wife. More than that, he was eager for nights when she slept tucked against him for warmth.

  Their marriage had been hurried and without much fanfare as they’d been in the middle of a clan war. Unlike most women that married a first-born son to a laird, Paige had not resented the lack of festivities. Instead, she was more relieved than anything at not being the center of attention.

  His lips curved. When she passed by, men did their best not to gawk at the beauty, but few were successful. Even in the muted dress she wore that evening, she was lovely. Her gaze lifted up to meet his, the pools of blue seeming to sparkle in the candlelight as she neared.

  “How fare ye, Husband?” Her soft murmur ran though Alec’s body as if she’d touched him.

  Unable to stop from it, he leaned close and pressed his lips to just below her ear. “Much better now that I see ye.”

  A light blush surfaced on her cheeks and her eyes rounded. “Alec, people are watching.”

  “Let them,” he said and pulled her chair back to allow her to sit.

  Last meal could not end quick enough in his opinion. He’d been absent for several days, riding with some of his guards, ensuring their borders were secure now that spring deemed to make its appearance.

  A guard approached the high board and waited for Laird McLeod to acknowledge him.

  Alec’s father washed down his last bite with ale and motioned the guard closer. “What is it, Jonathan?”

  “A messenger has arrived, Laird.”

  “Send him to my study.” Alec’s father looked to him. “Let us go see about this. It may be important since the messenger was sent as soon as traveling became possible.”

  Before standing, Alec turned to Paige and once again pressed his lips to the side of her neck.

  “Go,” Paige whispered, gently pushing him back.

  Alec couldn’t help but chuckle at how shy she was. He loved that about her. Especially since, although timid, she was also curious about bed sport and passionate when making love.

  Along with his father, he walked into the study to find a large, muscular man escorted by two of their guards. Unlike most messengers, who were normally younger guardsmen, this one seemed seasoned with an unwavering gaze.

  There was a slight tic at his jaw, telling them that he was not used to the task of messenger. Alec studied the man with curiosity. By the colors of the tartan that crossed his broad chest, he was definitely not a Ross.

  “I come with a message from the Mackenzie,” the man said without preamble, not waiting for the laird to allow him to speak.

  Alec had to admire the man’s lack of decorum. He was often accused of such himself. It seemed his father didn’t mind it either as he went to the sideboard and poured a glass of whisky and handed it to the messenger. “To warm ye up.”

  “Thank ye,” the large
man said and swallowed the liquid down in two gulps.

  “What is the message?” Alec asked.

  The guard then assumed a rigid pose, his intent gaze meeting first Alec’s and then his father’s. “He requests yer presence within three days, if possible.”

  Once the message was delivered, the messenger was invited to remain and eat. The man requested to eat in the kitchens and be allowed to take food for two other men who waited outside.

  Alec walked with him.

  “I will send for yer men. Why did ye come? Tis obvious ye are a warrior.”

  “My laird wasn’t sure how unstable yer region was.” The man met his gaze. “Ye are in the midst of war. He wanted to ensure the message was received.”

  They entered the kitchen and Alec motioned a young lad forward. “Retrieve the other two men to come inside to eat.”

  “Thank ye,” the messenger nodded to Alec. “I am Gaeden.”

  “Alec,” the laird’s son responded.

  “Ye may remain the night,” Alec invited as per Highland tradition.

  “We shall and leave first thing in the morning.”

  Once the men were settled around a small table, Alec spoke to Rose and requested that food be prepared for their travel the next day.

  He headed to his father’s study and found the McLeod remained standing next to the side table, his expression thoughtful.

  “Why do ye think the Mackenzie sends for us to come?” Alec poured whisky into a small cup. “Tis not a social call it seems.”

  His father shook his head. “No, it must have something to do with the battle between us and Clan Ross. If I know the Mackenzie, he will try to gain something from it. Perhaps our alliance or acquiescence to fall under his command.”

  “Never,” Alec responded, looking to the whisky and assessing whether to have another glass. Deciding against it, he put his cup down. “Father, we must contact the McLeods from the east. They are large and can help.”

  When his father blew out a breath and nodded, Alec could almost feel the weight upon his shoulders. “They will not help. Not after what Ethan did. He left yer cousin a cripple by cheating at the games.”

  “He brings us so much trouble. And yet, there is little we can do about it now.”

  They would never turn Ethan over to either the other Laird McLeod or to the Ross. He was the second son born to a laird and, although Alec knew his father had contemplated it, it would not happen.

  Regardless of his many faults, Ethan was his son.

  “We set for the Mackenzie lands tomorrow. Ensure guardsmen are prepared. I will speak to yer mother as she wishes to go as well.”

  *

  Although there was a fire in the hearth, the chamber was chilly and Paige hurried to wash up before going to bed. Knowing Alec would be joining her that night, she took extra care to ensure her body was clean. By the time she completed the task and pulled on her chemise, she was shivering and went closer to the fire in the hearth.

  Alec entered, his gaze intent on her. Standing before the fireplace, she realized he was privy to an outline of her body through the folds of her chemise.

  It was hard not to rush to him and remove his clothing, her need growing as he pinned her with a darkened gaze.

  “Beautiful,” he said, his gaze roaming down her body. “Loosen yer hair.”

  Although she’d just braided her hair, she didn’t resent the request, quite the opposite. Tingles of awareness traveled through her as she ran her fingers through the tresses, allowing them to catch the light.

  Playfully, she pulled it up and then allowed it to cascade down past her shoulders to the center of her back. “I missed ye, Husband.”

  Not nearing, Alec yanked his tunic up over his head, his breeches following quickly thereafter. Wonderfully nude, he was on full display for her perusal.

  “See how I want ye,” he said unnecessarily as Paige couldn’t help but notice his member was hard, straight and erect. That she had this effect on the powerful male never ceased to amaze her.

  Paige approached and looked up at him. “I want ye as much.”

  Alec’s mouth crashed over hers, his tongue immediately seeking purchase past her lips and she allowed it, sucking greedily, needing to taste him.

  “Mmm,” she purred and ran her hands down his back to the roundness of his buttocks. Once there, she dug her fingernails into the skin, needing to pull him closer against her. Paige rose to her tiptoes in an effort to align her sex with his. Unfortunately, he was too tall.

  It was only when her chemise pooled at her feet that Paige realized he’d disrobed her. She barely paid any heed, much too consumed with the feel of his skin against every inch of hers.

  The roughness of his palms as he ran them down her sides sent quivers of anticipation through her body and Paige arched against him.

  The assault of his mouth continued, traveling from her now swollen lips, past her jawline to the base of Paige’s throat.

  All the while, she raked her hands down his back, needing more than what he gave at the moment and yet hoping it would not stop. The longer this moment was prolonged, the more she’d enjoy what was to come. And yet, her urgent need was more than Paige could stand.

  Alec dipped at the knees and hoisted her up and Paige wrapped her legs around his midsection. Both were impatient, dripping with need and unable to stop from immediately joining. Lowering her to the bed, he positioned himself and drove into her so deep that she gasped at the delightful intrusion.

  Both groaned in relief and, immediately, Alec began pumping in and out with the frantic rhythm of lovers separated for far too long.

  “Oh, yes!” Paige exclaimed, urging his movements, her crest coming so quickly it took her breath away. He slid his hands under her bottom, lifting her for better access. When he drew out and thrust back in, she dissolved into the abyss of stars and darkness, her body flying with a climax so hard, she thought never to return from it.

  As Paige floated down, Alec continued his own quest, turning her onto her stomach. Then he lifted her up into position to make it easier to enter her from behind.

  Paige cried out, overwhelmed with arousal once again. The edges of the bedding bunched under her palms as she grappled to remain in place while her husband pumped in and out of her, his thrusts hard and steady.

  His fingers digging into Paige’s hips, Alec held her firmly in place as he desperately sought release, seeming to find it elusive. His member was hard and thick, filling her completely and sending her to, once again, lose all control.

  Finally, as she cried out in a second overwhelming release, he plunged one last time, his hold firm on her body as his hoarse cry echoed in the room.

  Trembling, he collapsed sideways, bringing her with him. They lay spooned, him behind her, his sex firmly inside her body, claiming her, unrelenting.

  Lazily, he stroked her breasts, his thumb circling her tip, first one and then the other, sending a new tingle of awareness down from where he touched her to her stomach and then on past.

  It amazed her how Alec could bring her to want, over and over again, using different tactics to drive her to madness.

  When he slid his hand down her stomach to in between her legs, she pushed back, taking more of him in. Already, his member was hardening. And while Paige’s need renewed, at the same time she wasn’t sure she could take much more.

  Gently, he parted her nether lips and found her more sensitive part. His finger slid up and down over it and Paige gasped as new ripples of excitement filled her.

  “Oh!” she gasped when his finger moved over the now tight bud over and over.

  Knowing what she would need, Alec pulled out just a bit and pushed back into her, the move slower this time, the rhythm steady.

  They continued in the lazy lovemaking until needing to find release minutes later.

  “Ye drive me to madness,” Alec whispered in her ear, guiding her to lie back onto the bedding.

  Her mouth fell open as Alec came over her.
Once he lifted her legs over his shoulders, he drove into her wetness.

  For a third time, Paige became lost in the wilderness of lust and passion.

  Chapter Three

  Had his sword always been so heavy? Tristan swung, his entire arm quivering as contact was made with the opponent’s weapon.

  “Ye are recovering well,” Ruari, his cousin, yelled over the sound of other warriors practicing. “But ye need to gain weight.”

  Tristan looked down at his sunken stomach and gaunt chest. In the last month, he’d eaten as much as possible to regain his strength, but it was taking time after so many weeks of eating little more than broth. Not one to complain, he shrugged and teased. “Once I do, ye will run from me.”

  In truth, Ruari was the only one he preferred to spar with. Because of Tristan’s large size, the other guardsmen usually did not present much of a challenge. Kieran was as strong and almost his height, but they’d ended up brawling on the ground so many times that their father had forbidden they spar against one another.

  Just a few yards from him, Kieran sparred against two guardsmen. In his element, he made loud noises when on the attack and was deft to avoid the strikes when the men countered.

  Although head of the archers, Kieran held his own with the sword. Seeming to sense his regard, his brother looked toward him and then uncharacteristically scanned him over as if ensuring he was well.

  Despite the lack of strength, his family made Tristan strong within. His body would continue to recover and, eventually, like before, he would wield the sword without thought of its weight.

  Moira, the cook, sent a maid to announce last meal and the men made their way to the dining hall, each man either placing his sword in a scabbard across his back or holding it to the side.

  They lined up just outside the front entry. Two barrels were filled with water from the loch. A stack of neatly folded cloths had been placed on a weathered table next to the barrels that were dipped to wash away sweat and dirt or used for drying.

  Some bypassed the barrels. Others, like Tristan, waited patiently for those who’d arrived first to finish so they could use the water. Unused to the exertion of sword practice, sweat dripped from him like water, making the wait to wash up a necessity. As hungry as he was, the idea of sweat dripping into his food was unappetizing.