Seduction Of A Highland Warrior

by Welfonder Sue-Ellen

Malcolm simply stood staring out at the water, a thoughtful look on his once-handsome face.

  “Come, lass, I think we should row over there.” He held out his hand, helping her to her feet.

  Not waiting for her reply, he tightened his grip on her hand and led her down the beach toward a small coracle. He pushed the little round boat into the water, holding it steady as she clambered aboard, Hercules and Geordie climbing in with her. Then he jumped over the side and reached for the oars, quickly maneuvering them onto the water but careful to stay close to the shore’s edge.

  He clearly meant to reach the other side by circling the loch.

  It would take longer than rowing straight across, which was much too risky to do.

  “Alasdair may be dead before we get there.” Marjory tried to see him, but couldn’t.

  It was getting dark and the mist was thick now, swirling everywhere in great billowing sheets like a shroud.

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Dear heavens, please let us get there in time.” She couldn’t bear it if they didn’t.

  Surely Kendrew would listen to her.

  But then there was another terrible crashing of wood near the mouth of the loch, the ghastly noise filling the night, terrifying her.

  She risked a glance in that direction, only able to make out galleys flashing to and fro. There were also two ships that appeared sealed together, men with swords running on the decks, fighting ferociously, their shouts and curses, and screams, terrible.

  And then the heavens brightened, the night sky turning light as day.

  Kendrew was unleashing his fire arrows.

  The end was imminent.

  “Mackintosh!”

  Alasdair roared the bastard’s name even as he pulled himself up and over the edge of the cliff. Panting, he bent double, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

  Never had he been in a sorrier state.

  Shivering from the loch’s icy water, he was also half naked, wearing only his wet and clinging shirt. He’d even kicked off his shoes.

  And he carried no weapon.

  He didn’t need one.

  He meant to rip Kendrew apart with his bare hands.

  “Kendrew!” He straightened, cupping his hands around his mouth as he shouted for the miscreant. “Come here, you flat-footed he-goat! Fight me like a man, one on one, fists only and to the death!”

  “Dinnae tempt me, you arse.” Kendrew appeared out of the mist, striding forward with a cocky grin. “It’s no’ every day I have to admit I’m wrong. Goad me again and I’m done with you. I’ll take my men and hie us out of here.”

  Alasdair blinked.

  He shook his head, tilting it to the side and hitting his ear with his palm. Just in case he had water in his ears, clogging his hearing.

  “We’re getting the better o’ them, did you see?” Kendrew thrust an arm out toward the loch and the ships and men fighting there.

  He was also laughing, the sight terrible.

  But then Alasdair followed his outstretched arm and saw that his foe spoke true.

  The two black-painted Viking ships had foundered in the mouth of the loch. A welter of boulders on the ships’ broken decks hinted at what had sunk them.

  Alasdair’s own galleys circled the shattered dragonships. And when he held a hand to his brow and squinted, he saw that his men were on the decks of the Viking vessels, using their swords to cut down any men who hadn’t drowned when someone—Kendrew’s men?—had rained down the boulders on the ships as they’d attempted to beat into the loch.

  One or two other Viking ships had made it.

  But those burned bright, flames like balefires swiftly consuming them.

  Alasdair’s galleys didn’t bear a single scorch mark.

  They flashed about, clean and untouched, more than proud.

  And still Kendrew was laughing.

  He stood with his legs spread apart and his arms crossed and the more Alasdair stared at him, the more he, too, felt like laughing.

  To his shame, he felt something else, too.

  A strange, damnable kinship that burned his fool eyes like hell.

  “Damnation, who’d have believed this?” He strode over to his erstwhile foe, clapping him on the shoulder. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  Kendrew didn’t miss a beat, jerking his head toward a big, black-bearded man just stepping up to them.

  He was Grim.

  And he carried a spare bearskin, coming up to sling the fur about Alasdair’s shoulders.

  “A good e’en to you, Blackshore!” He stepped back, dusting his hands. “I took you on your word, see you? The things you said about black-painted dragonships and our Dreagan’s Claw inlet. I went there myself”—he raised his voice above the shouting below—“creeping down the cliff and hiding out behind the rocks. Thon Ironstorm and his captains came ashore that night. I heard everything they said and—”

  “Like the good captain that he is”—Kendrew boomed—“he made haste back to Nought and told me. We came here as fast as we could. Truth is”—he smiled almost sheepishly—“I would’ve brought my sister to you myself. But when I went to look for her, the fool lass had vanished.”

  He glanced about, his eyes twinkling. “She wouldn’t be here, would she?”

  “She is safe in my painted solar at Blackshore.” Alasdair was relieved that she was. “She’ll be pleased to see you when we’re done here. I’ll take you—”

  “There is no need.” Marjory ran up to them, throwing herself into Alasdair’s arms. “I am here, as you can see. What I’d know is what you’re doing here?”

  She glanced at her brother, but he just threw back his head and gave a great shout of laughter.

  “Later, Norn, at your man’s high table.” He winked at her and then punched his captain in the arm. “We have men’s work to do yet,” he boomed, already striding off into the mist.

  Grim tossed them a look. Not quite a smile, but not unfriendly either. Then he turned on his heel to follow after Kendrew.

  The mist closed around them quickly.

  They were gone.

  “What is happening here?” Marjory looked after them, frowning at the spot where they’d disappeared.

  Alasdair followed her gaze, shaking his head.

  “Nothing you won’t hear all about in the hall this e’en.” He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. “I’d sooner learn what you are doing here?”

  He shot a dark look at Malcolm, who smiled back at him and then blew his nose.

  Hercules and Geordie were also staring at him.

  Geordie sported a look Marjory now recognized as his expecting-a-treat look. And Hercules—she blinked, hardly believing her eyes—was wearing an expression of pure hero worship. Eyes bright, tongue lolling, and his little tail wagging.

  On the loch, the sounds of the fighting were winding down, replaced now by the roar of flames. The acrid stench of burning wood hung thick in the night air.

  Marjory shivered.

  Another flaming Viking ship flashed across her mind. She pushed the image away. Truth was, she’d brave a thousand burning ships, even the fires of hell, if they stood between her and Alasdair.

  So she leaned harder into him, baring her heart. “I’m here because I love you.”

  She lifted up on her toes, curling her hand around his neck and then kissing him. “I also thought you might need saving from my brother.”

  “Indeed?” Alasdair cupped her face, giving her a kiss of his own, a long and deep one that sent warmth spilling clear to her toes.

  “And what if he needed rescuing from me?” He straightened, winking at her.

  “Then…” She glanced aside, down to the burning Viking ships on the loch. “It would seem we’re all even, wouldn’t you say?”

  She didn’t mention he’d once rescued her from a burning Viking ship.

  There’d be time later to tell him of her dream.

  For now�
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  She nestled closer to him, trying not to see that Malcolm was watching them, dabbing at his eyes.

  She did see that wonders are always possible.

  That magic is real.

  And then Alasdair was turning her face up to his. “Will you be disappointed that we won’t be leaving the glen, lass?” He kissed her, claiming her lips with such passion that it was clear he had no problems with his great-uncle and two dogs watching them. The bold smile he flashed her when he broke the kiss proved it.

  “Well?” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. “You didn’t answer me?”

  “Ah, but I didn’t, did I?” Tapping her chin, she pretended to consider. “I might regret not seeing more of the world, it is true.”

  He blinked, looking genuinely surprised. “Indeed?”

  “It could be, yes. Unless…”

  He started to smile again, seeing that she was teasing him.

  “What is it, sweet?” He played along, his lips twitching. “Name your pleasure and it’s granted. I dinnae want an unhappy wife.”

  “Then…” She slipped her arms around his neck, returning his smile. “I would like us to visit the Thunder Caves at least once a week.”

  “The Thunder Caves?” He frowned, looking puzzled.

  Marjory laughed. “Oh, yes, we should go there often.”

  Then his eyes lit and he laughed, too.

  “I understand, and we will visit them, I promise.” He leaned down to nuzzle her neck, nipping the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “As often as you desire.”

  Epilogue

  THE GLEN OF MANY LEGENDS

  At the Thunder Caves

  Autumn 1398

  Did you hear me?”

  Marjory kept her voice low, not wanting anyone but Isobel and Catriona to hear her. The three women stood at the far end of the Thunder Cave, near a long table spread with all manner of festive victuals, wine ewers, and ale. In the center of the cave, the stone floor shone bright, the mounds of wolf-and bearskins that were usually piled there cleared away to make room for dancing.

  After all, this was Marjory and Alasdair’s wedding feast.

  As if the heavens knew, the bands of moon-and starlight that always lit the cave shone with especial brightness this night, lending to the magic.

  Unfortunately, Isobel and Catriona were spending too much time tipping back their heads to peer up at the naked couples cavorting about the ceiling.

  Neither one of them had heard a word she’d said.

  Marjory took them by the arms and led them deeper into the shadows at the rear of the cave.

  “So-o-o!” She released them and stepped back, more than pleased with herself. “What did I just say?”

  Isobel and Catriona exchanged glances, clearly unable to tell her.

  “That it was good of Alasdair to give Clan Donald’s special sword to Kendrew?” Catriona risked a guess, glancing to where Kendrew sat next to Alasdair.

  Marjory and Isobel followed her gaze.

  Looking as if they’d been close friends for life, both men were examining Honor, the sword that’d been pried from the hand of the last MacDonald clansman to die at the trial by combat. Aptly named, the blade was held in high respect by the clan, a gift of untold value.

  “Nae, I didn’t mean Honor.” Marjory shook her head, turning back to her friends. “I agree, it was a meet gift, though. Alasdair wouldn’t have parted with it if he hadn’t truly made his peace with Kendrew. He felt it was fitting after Kendrew’s timely arrival at Blackshore not so long ago, and I heartily agree.”

  “I know.” Isobel beamed, aiming another quick look at the ceiling.

  “No, it isn’t the painted couples.” Marjory felt her face heating.

  “But you admit the Thunder Caves are a fine place to celebrate your wedding feast?” Isobel winked, not about to back down.

  “Aye, that is true.” Marjory flicked at her sleeve. “Still, I was thinking of something else. A matter of great importance to us all.”

  “Oh?” Catriona and Isobel spoke as one.

  Marjory smiled back at them. “Indeed.”

  “Then what is it?” Catriona stepped closer, clearly curious.

  Isobel cast another glance at her husband, her love for Kendrew so bright in her eyes. But then she, too, edged nearer, waiting.

  Marjory pressed her hands together, tapped her chin with her fingertips. “You will not believe it! I have solved Gorm’s riddle. The prophecy he gave to James just before the trial by combat. You’ll remember what it was?” She dropped her voice, repeating the words:

  “ ‘Peace will be had when innocents pay the price of blood and gold covers the glen.’ ”

  Catriona and Isobel now gave her their rapt attention.

  “You’ll recall,” Marjory went on, “everyone believed the men who’d perished in the battle were the innocents and the autumn turning of leaves was the gold covering the glen.

  “But our peace has aye been fragile, the truce endangered many times.

  “Until now.” Marjory looked at her friends, waiting for them to guess.

  When they didn’t, she tsked at them, softening the scolding with a smile.

  “The innocents,” she began, “were the poor pilgrims who were slain by the men serving the King’s blackguard bastard. Sir Walter and his men slew them and, last I heard, the King had dealt harshly with his son, imprisoning him for life, I believe. And”—she took a breath, lifting a hand to touch the ambers at her neck—“the gold covering the glen is our own enchanted necklace.”

  “Ahhh!” Catriona and Isobel again spoke as one. “The amber necklace has circled the glen, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it has.” Marjory curled her fingers around the stones, feeling so privileged to wear them. “First they were Catriona’s, leaving Blackshore to go to you, Isobel. And then after their time with you at Castle Haven, you passed them on to me at Nought. And now”—Marjory blinked, her eyes beginning to sting—“I have brought them back to Blackshore, where they belong.”

  “You are right!” Catriona was blinking, too, her smile a bit wobbly.

  When she dashed at her cheek and coughed, both Marjory and Isobel pretended not to see.

  Not that it should matter, for their eyes were just as misty.

  “So we kept our pact in all ways, then?” Isobel discreetly dabbed her own cheek.

  “I believe we have.” Marjory would’ve said more, but Alasdair was coming toward her, the look on his face warning that he wished a moment alone with her.

  “Ladies!” He drew up before them, resplendent in his MacDonald plaid and with Mist-Chaser, her gleaming amber pommel stone riding proudly at his side. “I’d have a word with my wife, if you dinnae mind?”

  “O-o-oh, not at all.” Catriona beamed, flitting away as quickly as the star-and moonbeams dancing throughout the cave.

  Isobel gave Alasdair a long, piercing look and then, smiling mischievously, also took her leave.

  Alasdair reached for Marjory’s hand, lifting it to his lips and nipping her fingertips. “Have you decided, my lady?”

  “Decided?” Marjory blinked, pretending not to know what he meant.

  He stepped closer, looking down at her with heat in his eyes. “Then I’ll tell you I’m favoring the couple thon.” He slid a glance at the ceiling, toward a particularly well-made pair. The woman rode astride the man, her head tipped back as if in ecstasy, her long hair spilling free down her back. “What say you to them?”

  Marjory leaned up on her toes, whispering her agreement in his ear.

  And before she pulled away again, she let her hand glide ever so briefly over a certain most masculine part of her husband.

  “Norn!” He inhaled sharply, his gaze darkening even more. “How will I ever wait until the festivities are over?”

  “I can’t imagine.” Marjory didn’t know how she’d wait either.

  But she couldn’t resist teasing him.

  So she leaned close again, this time
letting her breasts brush his side. “Perhaps we can slip away early?”

  “Ah, lass!” Alasdair flashed a smile. “I always knew you were the woman for me.”

  Then he captured her hand, linking their fingers. Walking briskly, he led her away. Out of the Thunder Cave and into the night, the revelry continuing on behind them.

  “Did you ever see a pair more in love?”

  A soft, familiar voice startled Drangar as he hovered in the Thunder Cave, watching Alasdair and his lady depart.

  Scarce trusting his ears, he spun about, his heart almost bursting to see his beloved Seona shimmering before him.

  “Seona!” He reached for her and then lowered his arms when she flitted out of his grasp. “What are you doing here?” he voiced a simple question, not wanting to frighten her away.

  To his delight, she shimmied nearer. “Perhaps I wished to attend Alasdair and Marjory’s celebration? Unlike you, my husband, I have not forgotten what it is like to be young, passionate, and in love.”

  Drangar frowned. “You think I have?”

  His wife sniffed, looking so lovely in her agitation. “You know much of the like. That is what I think.”

  “Seona…” He reached for her, his heart thundering again when she didn’t vanish when he took her hands. He brought one to his lips, kissing her wispy knuckles. “You are as beautiful now as you were then. Can we no’ let bygones be bygones, here on this neutral ground?”

  “And when we return to Blackshore?” She lifted a brow, plainly determined to provoke him. “Shall I then remain on my rocks of doom near the castle while you sulk about your Warrior Stones on the cliffs?”

  “I dinnae sulk, woman.” He scowled at her. “I guard the coast, as I have aye done.”

  “And do you still chase Selkie maids?”

  “I erred once, my heart.”

  “Say you.” Seona turned her back on him. “Your erring had dire consequences.”

  “Think you I have not regretted that all my life? And”—he whisked himself around in front of her—“every bluidy day of my afterlife?”

  She appeared to consider.

  “I did not mean to leave you, you know.” Her voice was soft, low. “I wanted to reclaim you for my own. That’s why I perched on the tidal rocks. To show the seal people that you were mine and I wouldn’t let another of their females have you. But then…