A Hardened Warrior

by McQueen, Hildie

  “How did ye get here?” Gisela asked, peering out the window. Although living only a few minutes’ walk away, her mother would never do so.

  “I walked,” her mother announced proudly.

  “All the way from yer house?”

  “Oh, nay. Fergus Mackay was headed to visit his mother and kindly offered to bring me half of the way.”

  Gisela slid a look to her mother, but did not make another comment. “When we go to the village, I will inform Hamus about the man who came here,” she said, referring to her brother.

  “Then we shall eat. Once ye purchase what ye need, of course.” Her mother became serious. “Ye will stay in the village until Hamus can come and ensure it is safe for ye to return.”

  “Very well,” Gisela agreed.

  Her mother motioned to her small bedroom. “Hurry, get dress. This is going to be an exciting day.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The new home made Merida nervous. It was a large, half-empty house with many rooms and most of them without furnishings.

  Tristan explained that, at one time, his uncle and wife had lived there. But upon his aunt’s death, his uncle had burned most of the furnishings and moved into a chamber in the main house.

  Apparently, in his grief, he’d attempted to erase every reminder of her, until stopped by the family.

  The walls had been scrubbed and the main rooms on the lower level had rushes, wall hangings and all needed furniture.

  That particular day, almost fourteen days since moving to Dun Airgid, she felt free to move about without worrying who would appear.

  Merida and her maid wandered the upstairs as she planned what kind of furniture she’d have the carpenter construct. So far, there were three empty bedchambers, a sitting room and what looked to have been some sort of study.

  Elsa sneezed. “I do not care for this place,” the girl said, looking up at the rafters. “However, after everything is in place, I do suppose it will be lovely.”

  “Aye, I think so as well.” Merida stepped over a rather ominous-looking pile. “Is that a wee corpse?” She peered down at it. “Some sort of beastie?”

  Her companion squealed and jumped against the wall. “It is not dead.”

  A rather chubby cat uncurled and grumbled at being disturbed. It ambled away from them not the least bit fearful.

  “Rather presumptuous,” Merida said, watching it. “I do not believe this beastie is a mouser, but rather believes himself entitled.”

  Elsa peered at the creature. “A cat?”

  “Yes, a cat.” Merida moved closer to the animal, which meowed softly.

  There were footsteps downstairs and Moira, the cook from the main house, called up. “I have come to help set up the kitchen. Tis taken me too long,” she continued as Merida and Elsa hurried down the stairs. Merida looked over her shoulder at the cat that’d curled into a ball and had fallen fast asleep.

  Moira and two maids carried baskets of pots, pans, spoons and other items. The red-faced, short woman ordered them about like a leader of the guard. Then she hesitated and looked around the room. “Where is Tom?”

  “Who is Tom?” Merida asked.

  “The mouser,” Moira replied. “I brought him by to keep an eye on the kitchen.”

  “He is upstairs resting,” Elsa said, pointing at the ceiling. “I do not believe he cares for working. Rather rotund is he not?”

  “Aye, ye would be surprised how animated he becomes at spotting a mouse.”

  They continued helping with the set up of the kitchens. Moira introduced two girls who would be working there and Merida wondered if the fact the kitchen was being set up was to keep her away from joining at meals with the rest of Tristan’s family.

  “Moira, may I speak with ye?” Merida motioned for the woman to follow her out of the kitchen. Once in the corridor, she let out a breath. “Who ordered that the kitchen be set up? Are my husband and I to take all of our meals here then?”

  The cook looked a bit uncomfortable. “Lady Ross. She said ye wished it.”

  Instead of contradicting the woman to a servant, Merida nodded and returned to the kitchen where the maids looked up with curiosity.

  “We will break our fast and have midday meals here. However, do not plan to prepare last meal. My husband and I will go to the main house for it.”

  She stormed from the house to the larger one, not hesitating upon seeing Tristan and his brother along with their uncle in the great room. Instead, she went directly up the stairs to find her mother-in-law.

  Both Lady Ross and Verity were in the sitting room. Upon her entrance, the women looked up, their eyes widening and then narrowing into slits.

  “What do ye want?” Lady Ross asked with a sneer.

  “My husband will not be excluded from this family. We will be taking last meal here every day, whether ye like it or not.”

  “I think it’s time for us to get matters clear,” Lady Ross said, smoothing her skirts. “This is my son’s home. He can come and go as he pleases. Ye are the one who is not welcome here by anybody. Tis best if ye returned back to where ye came from.”

  A dagger sinking into her chest would have hurt less. What the woman said should not have hurt, but it did. Merida let out a ragged breath and lifted her chin.

  “It was not my choice to marry yer son. I was forced into it, we both were.”

  “Then make a choice to leave,” Lady Ross replied.

  Verity, who’d remained silent, smiled at her as if she took glee in Merida’s discomfort. “True. As Mother states, ye should just go.”

  “Sometimes, I wish I could,” she replied, only to stop upon seeing that Tristan walked up. His eyes narrowed a bit at her. She wasn’t sure how much he’d heard.

  He walked into the room, immediately seeming to shrink the space. “Mother, do not meddle in my marriage or my house. Merida is my wife and ye will have to accept it.”

  “I do not.” Lady Ross stood and somehow managed to look down at her son, her nose up in the air. “I tire of ye and yer brother bringing in women that are not worthy of this household. Tis not what yer father would have wanted for either of ye.”

  “My father is no longer here. Stop speaking for him. Ye know he would have done what was best for the clan.”

  The woman waved dismissively at Merida. “And that is best for this clan how?”

  “Maintaining the peace. Not only that,” Tristan turned to Merida. “I love this woman.”

  The floor shifted and Merida reached out to steady herself, her hand on Tristan’s side. Had he said the words because he meant them or because he wished to shock his mother?

  Lady Ross was struck silent, her round eyes moving from Tristan to Merida. “What did, what did ye say?” she stammered.

  “That I love Merida,” Tristan repeated. He slid a look to her, his eyes full of questions.

  Merida’s heart melted at his need for confirmation. “I love ye as well,” she replied, not caring that the two women who hated her the most were witnesses to the first time they declared their love.

  The corners of Tristan’s lips twitched, as he must have been thinking the same. “Very well then. Mother, are we clear?”

  “I am moving to the Munro keep upon Verity’s marriage.”

  “I do not wish ye to feel unwelcome here, Mother, but ye have made it hard for both Elspeth and Merida to be comfortable. It is their home now as well.”

  The woman blew out a breath and looked up to the ceiling. “I will leave. I cannot abide remaining here. Perhaps I will take Kieran with me. He is the most sensible of all of ye.”

  Tristan scowled. “Kieran is barely civil. I doubt ye will convince him to do anything.”

  The woman pushed past them and down the corridor with surprising speed. “I will send a messenger and inform Kieran to return home immediately.”

  Verity, seeming at a loss, stood and gave Tristan a speculative look. “I hope ye will come to my wedding. I would like to have all my brothers there.” Wi
thout looking at Merida, she brushed past.

  “They planned to leave before ye came. Tis more of a show of disagreement that Mother brings it up again,” Tristan explained.

  Merida reached up to cup his face with both hands. “Did ye mean what ye said? Ye love me?”

  His eyes met hers. “I do. I realized it when ye stabbed me through the heart with yer words a bit ago.”

  “What words?” Merida’s breath hitched. “What did I say?”

  “Wishing ye could go.”

  Leaning forward, she laid her head on his chest. “I do miss my home. My family. That is what I meant. I could never leave ye.”

  The steadiness of his heartbeat helped calm her. “Do ye think yer mother will come around?”

  “In about one hundred years,” he replied and lifted her face up to press his lips to hers. The tenderness he displayed with her was such a contradiction to who he was on the exterior.

  Hard and emotionless, his façade rarely showing much more than a scowl, and yet with her, he was careful, gentle and took great care when touching her.

  “Ye are such a good man,” she said between kisses.

  “I hope ye always think that.” Tristan straightened. “I will arrange for ye to go visit yer family if ye wish. We have a truce, so traveling will not be as dangerous. Would ye like that?”

  Merida grinned widely. “Yes.”

  He guided her down the stairs to the great room. “I am famished,” Tristan said. “We did not break our fast this morning. Not with food anyway.” He winked and heat filled her face, recalling how they’d made love until a guard had come to the house to fetch Tristan for a meeting of the council.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Rain pelted down upon the land and Merida grew weary of it. Saddened that the weather prevented her from traveling to visit her family, she scowled out the window.

  It was late and despite the fire in the hearth, there was an uncomfortable chill in the air brought by the storm.

  It didn’t help that Elsa was in bed feeling poorly and the two maids they’d hired had gone to their chambers. Tristan was gone to nearby lands with his brother to bring several local farmers to an agreement.

  Apparently, there was a quarrel between the men who’d had to resettle in their farms after the clan war ended. Borders and encroaching on others, along with cattle being stolen, made for many an argument.

  Tired of pacing, she decided to go to the kitchens to find something to eat.

  Tom, the cat, looked up from the corner of the room. But seeming to find her uninteresting, he went back to his napping.

  At the back door opening, Merida assumed Tristan had returned. She whirled around to a large man filling the empty space.

  A tartan that he’d pulled over himself in a useless attempt to stay dry hid his face. By the air of danger that seemed to emanate from him, she immediately guessed it wasn’t Tristan but someone who may have come to kill her.

  Frantic for a weapon, she reached for a wooden spoon and backed away, not stopping until her back slammed against a wall of shelves. A cup toppled from one and shattered on the floor.

  The man was as tall as Tristan. There was little doubt it would be easy for him to overcome her.

  Not seeming to notice her, he yanked the tartan off and threw it into a wet pile on the floor next to the cat’s bed. Tom hissed, announcing his displeasure and the man peered down at the cat.

  “What are ye doing here, woman?” He had a deep voice, not unpleasant. With hair down to his shoulders and, from what she could see, a short beard, he seemed rather savage.

  Merida shrunk even further back, too frightened to formulate words.

  “Who are ye? Why are ye here?” he repeated, still not looking at her.

  “I am Merida, Tristan’s wife.”

  The man jerked up to look at her and Merida lost her breath.

  Before her was the most handsome human she’d ever seen in her life and, yet, at the same time, pure hatred emanated from him.

  He had to be Kieran. She’d heard rumblings about him and how he looked from maids and also Elspeth, but they didn’t sound true. Now, she knew everything said about his appearance was true. Actually, the tales of his beauty did him little justice.

  “The McLeod’s daughter.” His upper lip curled in distaste as his eyes bored into hers.

  Tears pricked and she did her best to keep them away. “Do ye mean to kill me?” Her voice trembled and she tightened her grip on the wooden spoon.

  He let out a breath, but didn’t reply. Instead, his heavily-lashed eyes locked on to the wooden spoon.

  His gaze bored into hers. A deep hatred emanated from him and she lost her breath until he looked around the room as if measuring.

  Kieran scowled. “I will not kill ye. Stay out of my way.”

  He turned and, after picking up the sopping wet tartan, went back out into the storm.

  Merida slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, the spoon falling from her hand.

  The thought of the lethal man hunting her brother sent a shiver down her spine. So much hatred saddened her and yet she understood that it must have been devastating for Kieran to witness his father being slain.

  If the same had happened to her, she was sure revenge would be on her mind. But to what lengths would she carry it through?

  Ethan was dangerous, in that he didn’t touch his heart when going after an enemy. Her brother was without prejudice of whom he destroyed. As time passed, he became more distant of any emotion.

  By what she had just witnessed, although obviously dangerous, Kieran Ross did possess a sense of right and wrong. It could be the weakness in him that Ethan would exploit.

  Raindrops continued to fall in earnest and she prayed that Tristan was somewhere warm that night.

  *

  A lad woke upon Kieran entering the kitchens. He hurried to wake Moira who hustled in and began fussing over Kieran, as was her custom. She roused another lad and, soon after, a warm bath awaited him.

  He didn’t argue against it, as his entire body was soiled and cold.

  Sinking into the tub, Kieran couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. The heated water was like a balm and he allowed himself a few moments to allow it to seep into his body. Soon, it became almost impossible to remain awake.

  When his head lolled to the side, Moira tapped him on the shoulder. “Come now, let’s get ye dried and off to bed with ye.”

  The woman had always treated him as a lad and no matter that he was now almost thirty, she didn’t change. There had been times when he’d snapped at Moira and hurt her feelings. Each time, he’d hurriedly apologized, not liking to hurt the kind woman who’d doted upon him since his birth.

  Wrapped in a drying cloth, he trudged up the stairs, not looking forward to the day ahead. Time at home was time wasted. It was preferable to spend the days on the hunt for the man who’d killed his father.

  Why did his brothers not seem to find it a priority?

  Nonetheless, he had to be the one to hunt the bastard down. It was he who was to see the life leave Ethan McLeod’s body. Part of the reason for returning home was to ensure everyone knew that.

  Once in his bed, the familiarity of it pulled him to slumber. When the bed dipped, he knew one of the maids had been made aware of his return. Much too tired to care, he ignored her.

  “I’ve come to see about yer needs,” she murmured, her hand sliding down his stomach. Kieran’s body stirred despite the exhaustion. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and when her hand wrapped around his staff, it didn’t take long for him to become fully aroused.

  The woman climbed atop him, straddled him and lowered, taking him in fully.

  Kieran grasped her by the hips as she rode him at a steady pace. She moaned, leaning forward while pressing her palms on his chest and began to move faster.

  He wasn’t sure which one of the maids it was and didn’t care. His body certainly didn’t. Kieran closed his eyes as the
woman’s movements became frantic, the sound of flesh against flesh mingling with her moans.

  A picture of a dark-haired woman formed. With bright pink lips and almond-shaped, brown eyes that flashed beautifully in anger, she had roused his interest.

  “Oh,” the maid cried out, her body shaking in release and she collapsed atop him.

  With the picture in his mind of the woman he’d met in the north village, Kieran rolled the maid over onto her back, lifted her legs up over her head and plunged into her until fully seated. He continued to thrust until it was inevitable he was about to spill and pulled out, discarding his seed onto the bedding.

  He released the now limp woman who tried reaching for his face. Pushing her hands away, he fell onto the bed face first. “Please go.”

  The maid ran her hand over his back. “I could stay and keep ye warm.”

  “No.”

  Moments later, soft footfalls were followed by the closing of his door. Kieran groaned as he settled into the pillow. Why had that particular woman returned to haunt him since meeting her?

  She had not been a friendly one at that, but had actually scratched him across the face. True, he’d made a crude remark. But she had been friendly in a manner that he’d perceived as sexual interest. He tried to shrug off the incident, but time and time again, she’d come to mind. The beautiful soap seller who lived in a small village on Munro lands.

  Wondering what her name was, he fell into an exhausted slumber.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Two days later, Tristan and Merida entered the great room. The room was filled. The clan’s people who’d been unable to see Malcolm, for whatever matters they needed his attention for, had returned upon his.