A Hardened Warrior

by McQueen, Hildie

  Once inside their bedchamber, he went to a truck and pulled out a clean tunic and breeches. “I am going to swim. Would ye like to come with me?”

  “I am not sure,” Merida replied. “The water must still be very cold.”

  “Aye, but I do not have patience to wait for water to be brought and heated. This way it will be faster.” Grabbing a knapsack, he put the clothes in there along with a cloth from the water basin and a bar of soap.

  “I would like to come with ye.”

  “Very well.”

  He seemed relaxed and of good humor, so Merida decided to ask him questions. “Did ye talk with yer mother about me?”

  “Aye. She and Verity wanted to move to the smaller house. I offered that ye and I would move instead.” He stopped from inspecting a tartan and turned to her. “Do ye agree?”

  “I prefer it, actually,” she said, meaning it while at the same time shocked that he’d asked her opinion. “It will be more comfortable for all of us.”

  “I cannot promise Mother will come around to ever accepting ye. Too much has happened.”

  Merida sighed. “Aye, I understand. Perhaps one day, she will understand that I did not have anything to do with yer father’s death.”

  “We all know that, Merida.” It was the first time she’d heard him say her name and she smiled at him. “Tis the first time ye have said my name.”

  A frown formed. “I do not believe so.”

  “It is.”

  He came to her and pulled her to him, his large arms surrounding and protecting Merida. “I will do my best to protect ye, Merida, and keep ye safe. I know ye will be a bit lonely but, after a time, I am sure things will get better.”

  “I have Elsa. Also Elspeth and Ceilidh are most wonderful to me.”

  For one of the first times since meeting him, he smiled. The action brought crinkles to the corners of his eyes and she thought it made him even more handsome. “I am glad to hear it.”

  Moments later, they walked side by side to the loch. Several guards came along and others were already there. It had not occurred to Merida that the other men would also want to bathe after the long trek from the northern border.

  “Mayhap I should return.” Merida looked around to see if there were any other women there. Just a short distance away, three women stood huddled together, their loud snickers making the men scowl in their directions.

  “I could go stand with them,” she offered.

  “Nay,” Tristan said, frowning in the direction of the women. “Those women are not the decent sort.”

  It was then that she noticed one of the men walking toward the women, taking one by the hand and leading her away.

  “Oh,” Merida said, looking away.

  Tristan placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her to the water’s edge, but away from the others. “Sit there and watch my things,” he said and began to undress.

  First, he removed his boots and then his breeches, leaving his long legs exposed. They were muscular and well-formed from riding. Next, he yanked the tunic up and over his head, handing it to her. Merida could only watch transfixed by her astonishingly muscle-ridden husband. He dove into the water and she remained still, unsure if normal breathing would ever be possible again.

  In the distance, the deep murmurs of men bathing and swimming filled the air. The breeze blew over the treetops and she looked up to see that the sun was falling. Soon it would be last meal. Hopefully, Lady Ross would not make it too unbearable.

  With Tristan by her side, she would feel safe despite any situation. At the thought of them living in the smaller house, she was glad for it. Even after Lady Ross and Verity moved away, she would probably prefer to stay there. It would make life much easier and she and Tristan would have the added privacy away from the people who came seeking their laird.

  When Tristan came out of the water, he was shivering. She held up the cloth and rubbed the rough fabric over his body to help warm him.

  As they returned toward the keep, Merida noticed that most of the men paid her little heed. Perhaps it was their respect for Tristan, but she hoped it was the first step toward them accepting her.

  She peered up at her husband, noting how his hair curled at the nape of his head. He seemed to prefer it cropped, but she liked it a bit longer like it was now. “I would like to discuss something with ye,” she started. “About yer brother.”

  “Which one?” He slid a glance to her. “Malcolm or Kieran?”

  “Kieran.”

  He exhaled. “Ye’re worried about him?”

  “Aye. I hear he is dangerous. Did ye tell him about me? Us?”

  “I did. And his reaction was as I expected. My brother is filled with rage. He was there when Da was killed by yer brother, ye see.”

  It was hard to imagine how horrible it must have been for the man. She shook her head. “I did not know. It is understandable why he is so angry then.”

  Tristan stopped and turned to her. “I cannot promise ye that Kieran will ever be kind to ye. He will not harm ye as he has never been violent toward women. Kieran may be a lot of things, but he does not abuse women or children.”

  “When does he return?”

  His lips curved just enough that she wanted to press a kiss to them. “I am not sure. A few weeks, perhaps.”

  They continued toward the keep and Merida looked up to the huge stone structure wondering how long it would be before she felt at ease. Never would she feel at home but, hopefully, one day she would not be filled with apprehension.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Paige woke to her husband, Alec, dressing hurriedly. His face was like stone. He yanked a tunic on and then dug up a pair of breeches from a trunk. It was still dark outside and she wondered if he’d decided to join in a hunt.

  “Why are ye up so early?” she asked, wiping the sleep from her face.

  When he turned to her, a lock of hair fell across his eyes and he pushed it away. “A guard woke me with the news that Ethan is gone.”

  Her stomach tightened. If the man did something foolish, they could be plunged into another clan war. For whatever delusional reason, Ethan had a vendetta against Clan Ross and was intent on killing them.

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “The guard outside his door was knocked unconscious, so we are not sure. His replacement found him.”

  Alec neared the bed and peered down at her. Paige loved him, but had yet to find the courage to tell him so. What if something happened and she’d not said the words?

  “Go back to sleep. I am sure we will either find him right away or not at all. Either way, ye will have news by the end of the day.”

  His lips met hers and as he kissed her, her eyelids fell. It was incredulous that she’d married the laird’s son and slept in a plush bed with servants seeing to her needs.

  Just a few months earlier, she’d lived with her brother and grandfather in a tiny cottage in the woods. The war had caused them to live on the brink of starvation, barely able to scratch out enough money for any kind of sustenance.

  Although she continued to mourn for both of the most important men in her life, her husband filled a huge portion of the void. Her brother had been killed working as a messenger for the McLeods and her grandfather died quietly in his sleep soon thereafter.

  She sat up. “Alec, why do ye have to go? There are plenty of guardsmen who can do it.”

  Instantly, his face turned hard. “Because I have had enough and if Ethan tries to kill any of my men, I shall slay him instead. He is not well. We should have known he’d do what he could to get free.”

  Alec went to a table where his sword and scabbard were and picked up the rustic items.

  “Be with care,” Paige said. “I…”

  “I will be fine,” Alec interrupted. “Until soon.” He nodded and, an instant later, he was gone.

  “Ugh,” Paige mumbled, falling back onto the pillows. “I love ye,” she murmured to the empty room.

 
; Alec descended the stairs to find his father and several guards gathered. “Which direction did he go?” He hoped the answer would be anything but south, toward Ross lands.

  “South,” a guard replied. “Several scouts have gone after him already.”

  “Let us go.” Alec looked at his father’s haggard face. “I will do my best to bring him back alive, Da.”

  Even if they wished to, they could not track Ethan in the dark. Instead, they rode south hoping that once the sun rose, it would be easier. Although Ethan was a good warrior, he was not adept at keeping his tracks hidden and that gave Alec hope.

  Whatever Ethan’s objective was, surely it would not be a sensible one. His brother no longer thought logically. He was struck with some sort of madness that urged him to do irrational things.

  A guard came alongside Alec. The warrior had once been very close to Ethan. However, one day at sword practice, Ethan had sliced the man across his left side. The action had brought on hatred between them. Alec knew the man was honorable and would not go against his father’s wishes.

  “Yer Da said that if it comes between ye and yer brother, I am to ensure ye survive.”

  There was a tightening in Alec’s gut. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Neither do I.” The guard’s profile was grim. “Do ye know what happened to him?”

  “Nay. I often wonder what caused my brother to become like he is. But then I recall the many odd things he did as a child. I think Ethan has always been a bit mad.”

  The man nodded. “Aye, in an angry way.”

  They rode in silence after that. The only sounds were the horse’s hooves on the damp leaves and grasses.

  Soon, the sun rose and Alec could only watch in wonder at the beautiful colors exploding on the horizon. Was Ethan somewhere nearby watching the sunrise? How could anyone not admire the gift of dawn?

  Sadness filled him as he looked across the wide expanse of land before them. If they found Ethan, it would be a miracle. There was so much land to cover and not nearly enough men to do it.

  Nonetheless, they spread out in ten groups of three men and continued forward.

  *

  Gisela Munro eased back against the wall. The man who’d entered her home in the middle of the night now sat on a chair. He was not well, his unfocused eyes roving continually around the room as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

  Although hopeful the warrior she’d come upon just days earlier would be persistent and return, she doubted he would care enough to come see about her.

  “Ye can leave now. The sun is up,” Gisela whispered, trying her best to not sound scared.

  The man was dressed well. He certainly was not a pauper by the quality of his clothing. However, he’d not been wearing a covering of any kind. In only a tunic and breeches, he seemed to have left wherever he came from in a hurry.

  He did, however, have a sword, which he held.

  “I will leave when I’m good and ready, wench,” he snapped. She cringed when his gaze roved over her body. “Ye can lay in the bed. Perhaps I will join ye.”

  Although her legs ached from standing, she would rather die than allow him to touch her.

  Just then, there was a soft creak as her overweight white cat, Milky, jumped from one of the chairs and made its way to the door. The animal preferred to spend the days outdoors, often sunning in front of the cottage. The cat meowed, demanding to be allowed out.

  Gisela studied the small animal, wishing it would somehow realize she was in trouble.

  Milky stared up at her and meowed louder.

  “My cat wants to be allowed out,” she said, hoping the man would do so and put down the sword.

  “Does it now?” The man turned to the cat, which repeated its meowing request.

  “Can ye please allow her out?” Gisela held her breath until the man stood and when he did not release the sword, panic set in as to what he might do.

  The man stood and walked toward her. “I am not mad.” His unfocused gaze said otherwise, but Gisela nodded as if agreeing with him.

  “Please, let me go. Ye can remain here if ye wish.” Her voice wobbled as she fought not to cry. The man was going to violate her, probably kill her as well.

  “What is yer name?” the man asked, nearing. “Ye are a pretty sort, much too lovely to live alone.”

  “Gisela,” she replied as she gauged what she could reach to strike him with, stretching her right hand slowly. When her fingers touched the edge of a bowl, she was deflated. What harm could she possibly do with a simple wooden item?

  The man stopped just a hair’s breadth away. “Ye are frightened of me.” He seemed to find humor in it. “I can have any woman I wish for. My bed is never empty.” His upper lip curled. “I want to eat.”

  Gisela scrambled sideways and grabbed the handle of a pot that held the cold remnants of her last meal. If he came close, she planned to swing it and hit him. Hopefully with enough force, he would be knocked unconscious.

  “I have a bit of mutton stew left. If I start a fire…” She stopped speaking when he shoved her sideways and she fell, hitting her head on the table.

  Panic gripped her as everything became blurry. Gisela screamed, or she thought she did, but then blackness took over.

  Ethan stood over the unconscious woman. “Cold mutton,” he murmured and kicked at the pot that lay next to her on the ground. “There ye go cat, come and eat yer fill.” He chuckled without mirth.

  Not wanting to remain there any longer in case his father’s warriors stumbled upon the cottage, he went outside and looked up at the sky. Storm clouds had formed and, soon, rain would begin falling.

  Deciding he’d need to keep warm for a long as possible, Ethan went back inside and grabbed a thick blanket from the woman’s bed. She still remained unmoving. Perhaps she was dead.

  “Hmmm, too bad. Ye would have made a good bedmate.” He rolled the blanket and then tied it to his horse’s saddle. The animal had obviously had its fill of fresh grasses because it didn’t take much coaxing to get it to a fast trot. He’d started off going south, but had since traveled northwest. Those that followed him would continue south thinking he headed to Ross lands.

  He’d heard murmuring that Kieran Ross was at the northern post of Ross lands. If this were true, he would not be within the confines of the keep walls. It would be easier to bide his time and catch Kieran alone.

  Once Kieran Ross was dead, Ethan would plan how to kill the other brothers. Perhaps, he’d kill the wife and daughter of the late Laird Ross as well. He shook his head. “No. I do not kill women.” He considered that he may have just inadvertently killed one and chuckled. “That one does not count.”

  With a plan in mind, he urged his mount to a gallop, leaving the forest and the cottage behind.

  *

  “Gisela!” A woman’s voice permeated and then she was being shaken. “What happened?”

  Gisela opened her eyes and peered up at her mother. “I was pushed. A man came and he…” The room shifted as her mother pulled her up to sit.

  “Oh, no. Did he…did he…” her mother stuttered, turning pale. “I knew it was a mistake for ye to live here alone.”

  “I could not remain living with ye and that man.” The anger that surged, helped her come around and she scrambled to stand. Gingerly, she touched the back of her head where a bump had formed. “I am beginning to detest men.”

  Her mother was a plump woman with rosy cheeks who acted like a child. Although Gisela was sure her mother loved her, men always took precedence over her own children. After the last two had attempted to crawl into bed with Gisela, she’d run away and had lived with her grandmother in the cottage near the village. When her grandmother died, Gisela remained in the cottage.

  She had one brother, Hamus, who worked for Laird Munro as a stable hand. Unfortunately, he couldn’t take Gisela to live with him, nor did he have time to stop by regularly to ensure she was well.

  That her mother came that
day was surprising. The woman studied her. “Are ye feeling better?”

  “Nay, my head hurts.” Gisela lowered to a chair.

  “Was it the warrior that ye quarreled with in the village the other day and scratched his face?”

  A picture of the much too handsome and too arrogant man formed. “Nay. He would not lower himself to visit my cottage.”

  “Who was it then?”

  “I do not know, Mother. He was young with clothing of good quality. I would say a rich man’s son.”

  Her mother straightened. “Was he here to court ye then?”

  Gisela gave her mother a flat look. “A man out to court does not shove a woman down and leave.”

  “True,” her mother said, tapping her bottom lip. “Quite strange would ye not say?”

  “Mother,” Gisela snapped, holding back the desire to shake the woman. “He came to hide and may have had plans to do me harm if not for the fact I was prepared to fight back. It was not only strange, it was terrifying.”

  Her mother scowled. “Aye, of course. I came to tell ye it is safe to return home. Henry left. He just left. Forever,” she added.

  “It will not be long before another man moves in, I am sure,” Gisela said, unmoved when her mother sniffed loudly. “I will not return only to have to leave again in a few weeks.”

  It was almost comical when her mother’s despair quickly vanished. “Oh, the baker is a widower, ye know. He is most pleasant.”

  Picturing the rotund man, Gisela suppressed the shudder that threatened. “I require some items to make soap and would like to purchase herbs for a tincture.” She stood slowly to ensure nothing shifted.

  “To the village then?” her mother asked with a wide smile. “I will buy ye whatever is required. Henry never checked how much coin I took. I have plenty.”

  Her mother always had money. Her father had ensured they would not want for anything. As a merchant, he’d always made sure that they had enough coin and material possessions. Her mother had grown spoiled as he fulfilled her every whim.

  Although Gisela had never wanted for anything, she’d not been as indulged, for which she was grateful now. Thanks to her father’s good planning, her cottage was well-appointed with sturdy furniture that Hamus had acquired. The walls and roof were kept in good repair and in the small stable behind the structure, she had a horse and a cart that provided her with transportation to and from the village. She also had several chickens and two goats.