Highlander's Sword

by Amanda Forester

  "I went there to see ye."

  "Why? Who are ye working for?" MacLaren's voice was cold.

  "No one. I wanted to see yer progress in restoring yer lands. I felt bad for ye returning to so little after ye had been so good to my family."

  MacLaren shook his head in doubt. "Aila, I want the absolute truth. I will no' hurt ye, if ye tell me now. Are ye aligned wi' McNab or anyone else who is trying to help him?"

  "Nay," she said emphatically.

  "I wish I could believe that."

  Aila pointed toward the bloody mark on her neck. The small knife wound was beginning to scab. "Does it look to ye like I be wanting to return to McNab?"

  MacLaren grunted a reluctant concession to her argument. "So ye were spying on me because why, exactly?"

  "No' spying. I… I always liked ye, even as a young girl. When ye came back, I wanted to see ye… to be close to where ye were."

  "Are ye trying to say ye're sweet on me?"

  Aila winced. She'd rather do anything but admit to a man who held her in such disregard that she had been attracted to him and, despite it all, still was. But she had promised to be honest, and she would hold to it. She nodded with reluctance.

  MacLaren urged the horse forward, laughing sarcas tically. "Ye expect me to believe that? After ye ran away to the convent to have our marriage annulled and refused me my marital rights last night? Yer so full o' deceit ye canna even keep yer lies straight."

  Aila tried unsuccessfully to wriggle away from him again. Sitting on a man's lap on horseback left a lady very few options for a respectable retreat. Aila didn't know which was worse, admitting her childish romantic thoughts toward him or having them disbe lieved and mocked. "Ye asked me for the whole truth, and I told ye. If ye dinna believe me, then please forget I said it."

  Aila nursed her wounded pride and wondered about this man she had married. He had her emotions spinning round such that she didn't even know them herself. One moment she was desperately in love with him; the next she wanted nothing to do with him.

  In love?

  Oh no, not that. Anything but that.

  Twenty-Two

  MACLAREN RODE SLOWLY THROUGH THE BRUSH AND glanced down at the unhappy lass in his arms. Aila looked miserable, and he felt rotten. Gone was the beautiful lass who had raced through the forest and smiled at him like some sort of wild nymph. He had taken that smile away, and only a knave would have done that. He struggled to know whether or not to trust her. Despite his inner conflict, his words always came out harsh. It didn't seem likely she liked him, yet how could he know her feelings? Women baffled him in general, and this one was a complete mystery. He had been easily deceived by a beautiful woman before, and now he didn't trust his own judgment.

  MacLaren sighed. He had bigger problems to deal with than discerning the emotions of this strange creature who happened to be his wife. Returning to Dundaff meant returning to the home not only of Graham, but a traitor, as well. Someone was after Aila and was ready to kill to get her. MacLaren shuddered at what would have happened had he not returned to camp in time to warn his men. They would have been slaughtered while they slept.

  McNab had declared himself MacLaren's enemy and would need to be dealt with. MacLaren's own life, the lives of his men, and quite possibly Aila's, hung in the balance. He needed to think clearly and not be distracted by personal concerns. Rory was right. As long as Aila was not working for his enemy, this squabble was a domestic matter, one that could be handled later or, better yet, never.

  "Aila, we will be returning to Dundaff soon, along wi' someone who wishes me and my men dead. I ask them to fight for yer clansmen to protect yer fields and to protect ye. But I canna fight both McNab and ye. 'Tis no' fair to me nor my men. If ye dinna wish to be married to me, tell me now."

  If MacLaren expected a quick response, it was not what he got. They rode on in silence, Aila frowning as if in deep thought. It was as he expected; she wished to end this sham of a marriage. Her response, when it came, caught him off guard.

  "Who hurt ye?" she asked softly.

  "I am uninjured," responded MacLaren, a bit confused.

  "Nay. Ye said ye woud'na be manipulated again. Who hurt ye?"

  MacLaren turned cold, as if he had been plunged in ice water. This was not something he wished to discuss. Ever. He cursed himself—his own words had betrayed him. "'Tis none o' yer concern."

  "If ye are comparing me to another, then it is. Ye've asked for my honesty, and I have given it. Now I ask for yers." Aila looked at him expectantly. Her eyes were two pools of water, brimming with anxiety.

  MacLaren rode in silence, looking beyond her at the road. He never wanted to think of Marguerite. He never wanted to speak of her. He never wanted to be reminded of his greatest mistake, the one that had ripped his soul and killed his cousin. Yet, he had brought this on himself. Aila was too clever not to notice. He groaned inwardly. Best to make a quick confession and move on.

  "I was betrothed when I was in France." MacLaren spoke without emotion, continuing to look at the road ahead. "She was verra beautiful, and she led me to believe her feelings of affection were similar to mine own. It was a lie. She used me to defend her land to gain better terms in submitting to the English crown. I wager my defense gave her quite a bit more coin. Afterwards, she had no more use for me, so I returned to my clan."

  "'Tis horrible anyone could be so deceitful."

  "Nay, dinna be too harsh on her." MacLaren could not keep the chill from his voice. "Like most females, she thought only to her own comfort. Words to her were just words, easily spoken, easily broken. Making love to me was part of the price she paid to get what she really wanted—gold."

  "Ye ken all women to be like her?"

  "Nothing in my experience o' this world has proved different."

  Now it was Aila's turn to be quiet. MacLaren rode along, waiting for her answer. In the silence, he recognized his words again as harsh, but what else could he say? She had asked for the truth, and he had given it to her.

  "I do wish to be married to ye," Aila said slowly, seeming to weigh every word. "I value yer alliance with my family and yer defense of our clan. But I would ask ye one thing."

  "Ye've asked for much already, lass."

  "Aye," said Aila, sitting straighter and looking him in the eye. "And I ask for this, too. I ask for ye to judge me by my own words and deeds, no' by those o' another."

  MacLaren looked down at Aila. He had always believed in judging a man by his actions not by his family. He nodded. It was a fair request. "Aye, I will try to do so. If we have made peace, I propose a truce between us. At least until the danger has passed."

  Aila nodded.

  "It is clear McNab means to take ye by any mode possible," said MacLaren, getting back to their imme diate situation. "I can easily see why he would want to claim yer inheritance, and it is also equally clear he has been given help from someone inside Dundaff. From what ye said, yer maid admitted to working for McNab and being afraid of someone at Dundaff. Considering the way she died, I expect the traitor is among those who accompanied us. Do ye ken anyone in the party ye might suspect as a traitor? Any disagreements between any of these men and yerself or yer father?

  "Nay, none that I ken. But I would like to tell ye about the stable master. It happened in the early morn after my ride on St. John's Eve. I returned to the stables to find Fergus, our stable master, lying on the floor, his head bloodied." MacLaren felt Aila shiver and held her closer. "There was an iron bar next him, blood on one end. I heard someone coming toward me, and I almost called for help, but it felt wrong. I've been riding that early for many years, and I never have seen anyone in the stables at that time besides Fergus. So I ran back up to my tower. The man ran after me up the stairs, it was… I was verra much afraid."

  "Did ye ken who it was?"

  "Nay."

  "Did he see who ye were?"

  "Nay, well, I'm no' sure. I was wearing my riding clothes at the time."

 
MacLaren nodded. "I'm glad for that. I heard about the stable master when I returned, but I was told it was an accident."

  "Aye, I heard that, too. My maid said he fell from a chair and hit his head, but there was no chair that I saw."

  "So, 'tis possible someone tried to kill him and make it look like an accident. Who have ye told about this?"

  "None but ye and Sister Enid. It was one of the reasons I was returning to Dundaff, to tell Father o' what I saw."

  MacLaren rode in silence, thinking on this new bit of information. "Every time ye open yer mouth, I hear something unexpected. Do ye have any more surprises for me?"

  "Nay, och, well, I should tell ye about the message."

  "The message?"

  Aila told him about the missive that had been sent by someone impersonating Sister Enid.

  MacLaren considered her words. Her actions were starting to make a bit more sense. Someone was indeed playing with her loyalties. "So someone wanted ye to join the convent or at least leave the safety of Dundaff. Was it on the road from St. Margaret's that McNab seized ye?"

  "Aye."

  "Maybe McNab was afeared ye would marry another and forged the letter to get ye to leave the castle so he could capture ye."

  Aila thought a moment. "Aye, 'twould be possible, I suppose."

  "Any other confessions for me?"

  "Nay," said Aila, frowning. "Well, there is another secret, but it belongs to my mother no' me."

  "What is it?"

  "'Tis no' important."

  "I'll be the judge o' that."

  Aila sighed. She had never told anyone about her mother before. "My mother's hands and feet are diseased, like Sister Enid's, ye ken? She wants no one to know. That's why she refuses to leave her tower. I have to feed her every day, because she canna do for herself."

  MacLaren thought for a moment. "So that's why ye said yer mother needed ye." It was all beginning to make more sense.

  "Aye. That is all I know. Do ye believe me?"

  "I will consider yer words carefully. Some have the ring of truth. Others I ken to be false."

  "When have I e'er spoke ye false? Ye have asked me for the truth, and I have given it. What is the point of telling ye the truth if ye winna believe it?"

  "How can I believe ye when some things ye say make no sense? Last night ye refuse to honor my marital rights, yet this morn ye declare yer love for me. How can I believe that?"

  "I ne'er said I loved ye." Aila's voice rose. "I said… well, ne'er ye mind what I said. As for last night, I wasna trying to avoid ye forever; I only wanted a little time and maybe a little respect. Since the moment ye knocked me from my horse, ye've treated me wi' contempt. Nay, e'en before that. I ken the only reason ye married me is for the money, but do ye have to remind me and my clan that my only value to ye is my inheritance?"

  "Contempt? When have I disrespected ye?"

  Aila's eyebrows shot up. "Ye've called me a traitor and a liar, rotten to the core, and—"

  MacLaren kissed her. He had not realized he had been waiting, wanting to do that. She resisted for a moment then sank into him. He held her closer and slowly deepened the kiss.

  "Why did ye do that?" Aila asked, breathless, when at last he let her go.

  MacLaren shook his head. "Irksome lass, I dinna ken what I'm about when I'm wi' ye."

  Aila slowly smiled. "I'm usually ne'er cross. I'm sorry if I've been irritating."

  "Aye, ye have, lass. Verra aggravating." And he kissed her again. The horse slowed to a stop, and he let go of the reins to kiss her in earnest. "We were interrupted at a most inopportune time last night."

  "Aye." Aila snuggled closer to him. "Perhaps tonight?"

  "Assuredly. Though why wait? There's plenty of brush here." MacLaren was ready, more than ready. Riding along with her wiggling about in his lap, it was enough to drive a man daft. He wasn't made of stone, after all.

  "Here?" asked Aila, her eyes wide.

  "Here."

  "Now?"

  "Now."

  "During the day?"

  "It works the same, day or night. Would ye be willing?" MacLaren leaned closer and ran his hand slowly up her leg to her thigh. She shivered. He may have, too. Aila's eyes sparkled and she nodded.

  "Truly? Ye would?" MacLaren winced internally. He sounded like an untried youth, not an experienced warrior. Aila gave him a shy smile and nodded again several times. Well, hell, he felt like an eager lad. MacLaren felt his face break into something he thought suspiciously might be a smile. This was getting out of control. Aila smiled too, looking warm and happy and beautiful and his. She shifted so she was facing him and put her arms around his neck to kiss him again. He ran his hands under her gown and cupped her backside, enjoying how her body responded to his touch. This was going to be sweet.

  "Ho there! I'm glad to see the two of you have reconciled." MacLaren and Aila swirled around to see Chaumont trotting up behind them on the path. He smiled broadly as he came alongside them and pretended to become interested in a tree while they quickly shifted to a more modest position.

  "Chaumont." MacLaren glared at him. "I love ye like a brother, but if ye dinna leave immediately, I'm going to have to kill ye."

  Chaumont smiled broadly and gave Aila a bow of the head. "So it's like that, is it? Very well done, madam. My most humble apologies, but I am not alone." The unwanted thumping of hooves grew louder, and soon the rest of the warriors came into view.

  "Perfect," MacLaren growled softly in Aila's ear. "This is going to make for a most uncomfortable ride back to Dundaff." MacLaren shifted a bit in his saddle. Situated as she was between his legs, she could not help but notice the point of his discomfort.

  "I could go back to riding my own horse," Aila suggested.

  "Ne'er. This may be torture, but it is sweet, and ye're mine," he whispered.

  Aila smiled back and clung to him, resting her head on his chest. MacLaren turned so all the men could get a good view. See this. I have caught her, I have tamed her, and she is mine. MacLaren looked possessively down at his bride. And she is happy. For the first time, it was important to him to keep her so.

  Twenty-Three

  A CHEER WENT UP FROM MACLAREN'S MEN TO CELEBRATE their laird's capture of his wayward bride, and the entire group started back along the way to Dundaff. They had reached a well-traveled path through the forest and were able to ride two abreast through the trees. MacLaren and Chaumont took the lead, riding together. Aila's horse was still tied behind MacLaren's, providing a horse length between them and the next mount, which allowed some privacy of conversation if they spoke softly. Aila felt rather uncomfortable sitting on a man's lap in front of all these men, yet even she realized the act was a necessary one to restore MacLaren's pride after she defied him. So she tried to make the best of it, particularly since she had no other choice. Trying to appear as if nothing was amiss, she sought some topic for polite conversation.

  "So what brings ye to Scotland, sir?" she asked Chaumont.

  Chaumont's face lit up at her address. "I came following your husband. I got so accustomed to saving his arse in France, I found I couldn't rightly give up the job. Besides, we all were required to make a most hasty retreat after MacLaren killed Gerard de Marsan."

  "Who?" Aila looked back and forth between them. This was not exactly the polite conversation she had hoped to elicit.

  "A French nobleman."

  "Why would ye do that?" Aila asked MacLaren.

  "Probably because he was trying to kill me at the time," MacLaren answered coolly.

  "Why was he trying to kill ye?" It was rude to ask so many questions, but really, how could they expect her not to?

  "They had a small disagreement on which one of them was going to marry a certain lady," answered Chaumont. Aila gave the Frenchman her full atten tion, hoping for more of the story.

  "I must thank ye, Aila, "said MacLaren without emotion. "This present conversation has most certainly cured my earlier discomfort." Aila waited for MacLaren to s
ay more, but he seemed content to ride along in silence.