by Jo Barrett
With an overcast sky and no idea where he was, any direction would do, so he picked the path of least resistance and headed for the brook. He hadn’t gone far when he overheard voices. It took only a few extra strides to see a couple of people just beyond the stream along a small copse of trees.
The woman, a striking dark-haired beauty, sat upon a stone bench in an old dress. A reproduction of something out of the renaissance or a little later, if he wasn’t mistaken. But the expression on her face was not a happy one. Something to do with the man, also in period dress, who stood in front of her shouting and waving his arms.
Adam listened for a few minutes, translating the mix of English and Gaelic, a language his father and godfather had pounded into his brain since he was old enough to talk, but he hadn’t used it in years. The longer he listened, the more the hot conversation filtered through his muddled brain.
What kind of idiot tells a woman, and at the top of his lungs no less, that she had to marry eventually, and that he was her last best option?
“I will wed when I am ready and no’ another soul will tell me when,” she said through her teeth.
“And I say ye be ready now,” the man replied, then grabbed her by the arms and jerked her to her feet.
With a sigh, Adam strolled into the fray, and said, “I suggest you let her go.”
If his father had taught him anything, it was never to abuse women. And as his mother often said, “No means no.”
Both heads turned to him, first fury on the man’s face, then confusion as he studied him. The lady’s eyes, however, widened with what looked to be some sort of recognition, although he knew he’d never met her before. She was too arresting to forget, even loaded to the gills he’d remember her.
“Who are ye ta be tellin’ me anythin’?” her idiot boyfriend asked.
“I’m the man who intends to see that you think twice before handling a woman like that again.” He jerked the idiot away from the lady, breaking his hold on her.
The moron yanked his knife from its sheath with a curse. “Ye’ll no’ be handlin’ anythin’ again,” he said, and lunged.
It took very little effort to deflect the knife and send the cretin face down in the dirt. The man’s fighting skills were pathetic.
Planting his knee in the guy’s back, Adam snatched the knife from his hand. “Did no one ever teach you how to use this thing?” He tsked at the state of the knife. “I see they didn’t teach you how to take care of it either.”
“Get off, ye bastard!”
“Why? So I can let you assault the lady and myself again? I don’t think so.”
“I can take care of myself, thank you,” the woman said, her tone curt from where she stood behind him.
He looked up at her scowl and grinned. “Oh? Well, then in that case…” He stood and let the man get to his feet. “He’s all yours,” he said, motioning wide.
That made her pause for barely a second with an almost smile, but her wisp of a grin disappeared as the iciest stare he’d ever seen focused on her abuser.
“If you e’er touch me again, Bran, I’ll gladly castrate you and pin your pathetic stones to the north wall for all to see.”
“Ye bitch, ye’ll do as yer told. Yer da will see to it.”
In a move so swift, she snatched the dirk from Adam’s fingers and threw the blade, piercing the ground between the idiot’s feet. “Doona think I will do anyone’s bidding. Not even the laird’s, if it isna a decision of my own making.”
His gaze slid to Adam. “I’ll have yer head fer this.”
“Uh-huh. I think your best bet is to call it a day, buddy.” Adam took a menacing step forward.
The coward’s eyes widened, then he grabbed up his knife and disappeared into the trees.
Adam let out a sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Hell of a friend you’ve got there.”
“He isna my friend.”
He turned his grin to her. “Yeah, I kinda got that. You have a name, sweetheart?”
Her brow furrowed as she studied him, then a look of disbelief fell over her features.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a wispy rasp. A rasp he would love to hear under very different circumstances.
“I thought you knew. You looked like you recognized me before.”
She shook her head. “No. You canna be…Adam?”
He gave her his most charming smile as he moved closer. “Have we met before? Because I’m certain I’d remember a beauty like you.”
She blinked a moment, then looked over her shoulder at the brook, then back at him. “You are Adam Sutherland, are you no’?”
“You have my name, now may I have yours? ’Cause once I figure a few things out, I’d like to give you a call.”
“A call,” she said, her face blank.
“I thought we could go out to dinner, or catch a show.” He glanced down at his rumpled tux. “I clean up pretty good, trust me,” he said with a wink.
She almost smiled again, an enticing crooked grin, but it quickly vanished. “You doona recognize me then?”
“As I said, honey, you’d be hard to forget.”
He slid his arm around her waist and eased her into his embrace. His lips brushed against her temple as he took in her scent.
“Make that impossible,” he whispered, savoring her heady fragrance.
He felt a shudder run through her, and couldn’t contain his satisfied grin. Her ice queen act was pretty good, but under all that snow was a steamy hot woman, one who was attracted to him.
“Release her or die,” someone said, ruining what had the potential of being a very pleasant afternoon, even if it was just a dream. Then again, if it was a dream, he wouldn’t have any competition where the lady was concerned.
“Well, I’ll say this, you certainly are popular,” Adam said.
He looked at her flushed cheeks and dark eyes, their lips close enough for a kiss. But with the latest addition to their little party pointing a sword at his throat, and it looking less and less like a dream, he didn’t think he’d win this time. “But I’m hoping you’ll keep me at the top of your list, sweetheart,” he said, releasing her.
Her warm gaze caressed his lips as she stepped back. “Put down your sword, Erin. He’s no danger to me.”
“No danger? But Bran said—”
“Bran is a bloody idiot,” she snapped, then took a deep calming breath.
Her friend’s sword tipped down a bit, but Adam wasn’t convinced yet.
She placed her hands on her hips as she shot the newcomer a scowl. “Do you no’ recognize your favorite playmate?” She cut her eyes at Adam with a disgusted twist to her mouth. “And my worst tormentor?”
Tormentor? Where was the warm willing woman he held a moment ago?
“Your tormentor?” the new guy asked, then smiled wide. “You mean…Adam, is that really you?”
“Uh, yeah. So you know me too?” He rubbed his pained brow. “I really must have had one hell of a night, ’cause I would swear we’ve never met.”
The Scot dropped his sword to his side and lurched across the small space to take Adam into a gruff hug. “Damn, ’tis good to see you, mon. It’s been too long,” he said, slapping Adam’s back.
“He still doesna recognize you, Erin. Or me,” the beautiful temptress said.
“Yeah, man, I’m sorry, but the only Erin I know—is—Erin MacLean?”
“Aye, mon, ’tis me.”
Adam grabbed his old friend and pounded on his back with a hug. “How the hell are you? Christ, it’s been, what a dozen years or more?”
“Aye, that it has. What brings you to visit? Are your parents with you? Da would be happy to see them, and Mum as well.”
“Nope, sorry. Just me. But—” He paused for a moment and looked at the woman he’d like to get to know better and let out a hearty laugh. “Deidra? Is that really you?”
One of her slim dark brows arched sharply. “Aye, ’tis me.”
�
�God, you were just a skinny little thing, all arms and legs,” he said, unable to contain a chuckle. How he’d missed the resemblance between her and Erin could only be due to how her beauty had knocked him for a loop. It was that or the dunk in the fountain, but these were his childhood friends. Friends he’d missed sorely, he suddenly realized.
“Aye, and you tormented her to no end,” Erin said with a laugh.
“That I did. I don’t suppose you ever forgave me for it, either,” he said, looking at Deidra with new appreciation, and a good dose of disappointment.
He couldn’t get tangled up with her. She wouldn’t be the type of girl he spent his time with these days, the just-for-fun type. Oh, no. She was the daughter of his parents’ dearest friends, his godparents and surrogate aunt and uncle. You couldn’t paint a bigger “do not touch” sign on the woman if you tried. And they were friends. He had a clear rule about that, although he had few friends these days to apply it to.
“Hardly.” She turned her cool gaze to her brother. “What else did that idiot, Bran, say?”
Erin’s smile fell. “That he had caught you with a mon, and he could no longer consider you marriageable.”
“That lying bastard!” She snatched up her skirts and stormed around the corner.
“We’d best follow or she may kill the whoreson,” Erin said.
“Agreed, but I have to tell you, he deserves whatever she dishes out.”
Erin paused in midstride. “What did you interrupt?”
“Nothing like you’re thinking,” he said, urging them onward in Deidra’s wake. “He just thought he could have the upper hand. When he grabbed her by the arms, I stepped in. Now that I know it was Deidra, I don’t doubt she would’ve handled it,” he grinned, remembering what a little spitfire she was. “But he’s an ass of the first order.”
They caught up to her where she stood in the courtyard, and stopped beside her as she perused the area for Bran.
“Dare I ask what you intend to do with him when you find him?” Adam asked, remembering her earlier threat.
She shot him a look, then returned to her search. “His future will be bleak,” was all she said.
Just as Adam was about to suggest they ask around if anyone had seen him, the bastard came flying out of the hall, down the steps to land on his face in the dirt, not far from her feet. She rested her hands on her hips as she stared down at the man, animosity pouring from her in waves.
A shout, more like a roar echoed from the open door, and the three of them looked up to find Amelia Tucker MacLean, the lady of the clan MacLean, or Aunt Tuck to Adam, standing at the top of the steps, her arms akimbo, with fierce hot fury spiraling around her flaming red hair edged with gray.
It was a beautiful and yet terrifying sight. Adam had to consciously close his mouth, the picture before him was beyond amazing. Two strong, powerful women, like bookends in their stance and stature, only their coloring was different. No man stood a chance when caught between them.
Colin MacLean appeared behind his wife, a scowl on his burly face. His hair had streaks of gray as well, but he was still a man you thought twice about before going up against.
“You be lucky, Bran. I’ve a mind ta take your head for your lies, but I doona care ta upset my wee wife any more than she be already.”
The pathetic man lifted his head, and Adam clearly saw a good deal more damage to the man’s face than what he’d received from the fall.
“Then again, with what she has wrought on you herself, perhaps you no’ be so lucky after all,” Colin said with a humorless chuckle. “Deidra, do you wish ta decide his fate? ’Tis your name he has cast aspersions on, lass.”
Sadness crept over her features for a mere second, and yet long enough for Adam to wonder about her true feelings in all this.
“Let him spread his dirty lies to all and sundry. ’Tis of no consequence to me.” She kicked dirt into his face, then spun on her heels and stormed off around the corner to disappear into the garden.
Colin and Tuck exchanged a concerned look before dealing with Bran. “Leave the isle, Bran, and ne’er return,” Colin said. “You’ll no’ be welcome here again.”
As the man staggered to his feet, Amelia met him at the foot of the stairs. “If I hear that you’ve so much as said one word against my daughter again, I will kill you,” she said, her voice a chilling calm. “Make no mistake about that, Bran. I will kill you ever so slowly, then leave your body to rot where the scavengers will pick your bones clean.”
With a pale-faced nod, the man backed away, bumped into Erin who shoved him hard toward the gate, then took off running as if the hounds were on his heels.
After a moment’s pause, Adam turned with a smile to his aunt and uncle and asked, “Is it always this boring around here?”
“Smart ass,” Aunt Tuck said, and hugged him hard. “It’s good to see you, kiddo.”
“You too, Aunt Tuck.”
She pulled back, cupped his face with a smile for a moment then said, “You fellas head inside. I’ll catch up in a bit.”
He watched her disappear after Deidra, then nearly lost consciousness with the powerful hug from his uncle Colin.
Chapter Three
Deidra bit down hard on her bottom lip, determined to keep tears of frustration from sliding down her cheeks. That was what they were, surely. They couldn’t be caused by hurt feelings. She had a tough skin, as her father often said. But today, she feared there may be something more behind them.
Aye, she was mortified by Bran’s pathetic proposal and then his reprehensible behavior afterward, but ’twas not all that different than other marriage proposals she’d received over the last few years.
“Nay, ’twas his presence, to be sure,” she muttered, letting her fingers drift over the hedge lining the path as she idly strolled through the garden. She didn’t usually have an audience, but this particular observer made it all the more difficult.
Although Adam had grown into a fine-looking man, he was still a plague from her youth, and to have suffered such humiliation before a former foe was humiliating.
When he’d appeared by the brook, she knew deep in her heart that the handsome man was none other than Adam Southerland. Her uncle Ian was a dashing figure with his blonde hair, aristocratic looks, and blue eyes, and ’twas no surprise those traits had been passed to his son. Although Adam’s hair was more akin to light brown than blonde, he had inherited much of his father’s looks, especially those flashing blue eyes.
She sat upon the stone bench and looked over the garden before her, a shameful grin upon her lips. The way he spoke, his flirting remarks, his touch before he’d discovered her identity was a slight boon to her pride.
When she was but a girl, she had suffered his many pranks, had wished him ill on more occasions than she could count. And although she was no longer the child he’d teased, but a woman fully grown and apparently not at all distasteful to his eye, he would torment her still.
“There you are,” her mother said, taking a seat beside her. “How are you holdin’ up?”
Deidra covered her recent ponderings with a bright smile. “I am okay,” she said, using one of her mother’s words.
“Uh-huh. So today’s snafu isn’t buggin’ you?”
“No’ awfully, no.”
Her mother patted her hand with a heavy sigh. “I know it’s hard, Dee. I was rejected by men all of my life. Until I met your father,” she added with a smile.
Her back stiffened. “I doona want Bran. He is a loud-mouthed braggart with less wit than a sheep.”
Tuck eyed her knowingly. “I wasn’t talking about Bran, baby.”
Deidra dropped her gaze to her lap and smoothed her skirts. “The ones before are of no matter either. I wanted none of them.”
Her mother let out a sigh and rose, pulling a leaf from a nearby bush. “No matter how hard a parent tries, there are things we can’t change.”
She dropped the leaf and turned back to her. “I’ve watched you gro
w into a beautiful, strong woman. I’m proud of you, Deidra. But I’ve also watched you guard your heart from anyone that dares to get too close.” A bittersweet smile touched her lips. “You’re just like your dad and me. Or like we were, a long time ago.”
Deidra cocked her head with a faint grin. “I doona see how that is a bad thing.”
Tuck chuckled. “No, not in some ways, but in matters of the heart, I’m afraid we are too much alike.” She glanced to the sky, then looked back to Deidra with a misty look about her eyes.
“When I met your father, I had no place in my heart for anyone. I’d built up a line of defense the likes of which no one has ever seen in any war. But somehow, he found a way around my perimeter.” She snorted and shook her head. “He hadn’t meant to, but he made me fall in love with him.”
“And he fell in love with you,” Deidra said, her voice barely a whisper, afraid she might choke on the words. Words she feared would never apply to her.
Tuck nodded. “Yep, that took him by surprise. He thought he was supposed to be strong, to not let his feelings show. And he was supposed to marry someone else, someone your grandpa chose.”
“Aye, so you’ve said before.”
Her mother leaned down and squeezed her shoulder with a smile. “I guess what I’m trying to say, baby, is that there’s nothing wrong with holding out for the right guy. Just make sure you’re guarding your heart for the right reasons. No one is ever what they seem on the outside, especially men.”
She grinned up at her mother. “Are you saying that Bran is no’ an arse?”
Tuck laughed and started down the walk. “Nope, I think you called that one dead on.” She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “But Adam isn’t the boy you once knew, and you’re not the same little girl.”
She winked and disappeared into the castle leaving Deidra staring after her with her mouth hanging open.
Adam Sutherland? She nearly choked on the laugh that burst from her throat. The only feelings she had for that scoundrel were hostile. He was certainly a handsome man, aye, but to suffer any true attraction to him? Ludicrous.
