Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  * * *

  Kara woke to the sound of the bedchamber door swinging open on its creaky iron hinges. Instinctively she yanked the covers up higher. The boy was gone from the bed and she was alone. "Harry?"

  Crisp daylight filled their bridal chamber. They had slept late, she realized with embarrassment. She had been more tired from her previous day's journey and the wedding than she realized. What would everyone think? What did anyone think of a bride and groom who slept late on the morning following their wedding night?

  Harry was at the door, still in his Chinese dressing gown. "It's all right. It's just my brother, just Ian."

  His brother? She pushed her hair from her face, confused. How could Ian be Harry's brother? William had been his elder brother, and William was dead. Then Kara vaguely recalled mention that William and Harry's mother had been previously married as well. Ian had to be a half-brother and therefore not a Gordon, not an heir.

  Ian walked in before Kara could protest. It was bad enough having the boy in the chamber with her stark naked, but his brother as well? She opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn't find adequate words. He entered her bedchamber as if he belonged there.

  "Good morning, my lord; sleep well?" Ian spoke in the same commanding voice as the night before, almost as if reciting lines from a performance.

  To Kara's horror she heard the sounds of others in the passageway behind him. Whispers, footsteps. Was this the audience Ian played for?

  "Step back," Ian called back through the doorway. "Allow his lordship and lady a moment of privacy."

  Again laughter, though more subdued than last night. No doubt the previous day's festivities would bring a certain amount of hushed speech to the household, as well as headache draughts.

  Ian closed the door firmly behind him. "How did you sleep?"

  Harry smiled, almost proudly. "Good, Ian. Good."

  Ian's gaze shifted to Kara, half sitting in the great bed, the woolen blankets pulled to her nose. "And you, madam?"

  "As well as was to be expected," she said softly.

  He nodded slowly, again seeming to understand her position, her fears.

  "We haven't much time," he said, speaking directly to her and not Harry. "They're bound upon coming in and inspecting the sheets."

  "The sheets?" Kara's eyes widened.

  "The sheets?" Harry said, panicky. "But, Ian, I... I dinna—"

  Ian scowled. "Of course ye didn't." He started for the bed in such a direct manner that it scared Kara. She slid over toward Harry's side. Surely to God he didn't expect to resolve the fact that her virginity was still intact?

  At the bedside he lowered his gaze, allowing her meager privacy. That simple, compassionate gesture surprised her even more than his advance on her bed.

  Had this man fallen from the heavens? A gift sent from God, for surely he was an angel.

  "Forgive me, my lady, but you must be up at once. If I do not take the sheets to the men, they will surely come for them."

  Kara glanced at the bed, then up at Ian, releasing her breath. She still didn't know what his intention was, but she knew it wasn't rape. "If there was no consummation," she said, past the point of embarrassment, "what shall I do?"

  He came to the edge of the bed, speaking softly so that Harry could not hear. "I can remedy the problem. I need only have the sheets, my lady."

  She found it ironic that she and her brother-in-law should be resolving this intimate matter, and not she and her husband. But of course she and Ian were the only adults in the room.

  A strained pause seemed to stretch between them.

  Ian rested one hand on the corner of the top sheet, while she gripped the opposite corner. "Urgency is most important."

  He wanted her to get out of the bed, but she didn't know how to do it gracefully without revealing herself. "I would step from the bed, sir, but I've no clothing," she confessed. "The maids took it all last night."

  Ian muttered something under his breath that did not sound favorable and turned away. "Slip from the bed and take the blanket with you. I'll have garments sent right away. This will not happen again, I assure you."

  Harry stood by the fireplace, smiling. By the light of the morning, he was a handsome blond boy. A comely boy who would no doubt grow to be an attractive man. "Ian will take care of the matter," he said pleasantly. "I'll warrant that. Ian can take care of anything."

  With Ian turned away, Kara climbed out of bed, dragging the heavy woolen blanket with her. She didn't care if Harry caught a glimpse of thigh. He was just a child.

  She crossed the chamber to stand near her husband, who was stoking the fire and adding more wood.

  Ian ripped the bottom sheet from the tick and pulled it toward him. Balling it up, he dropped it onto the bed and pulled a knife from his sporran. Kara didn't understand what he was doing until he nicked his little finger and smeared the sheet with his own blood.

  She turned away, feeling her face grow warm.

  Ian was providing false proof that she was no longer a virgin. He was protecting her and Harry with his own blood. God bless him.

  Chapter 2

  Kara took her time entering the great hall. She had postponed her morning appearance as long as possible, but now she could no longer dally. Her husband had summoned her.

  Alone, she approached the great hall from the dark passageway. Her miserly father had not sent even a single maid to serve her after she was wed. He had declared that her wealthy husband could supply her with a bevy of maids should he wish.

  After Ian and Harry left the bedchamber, Kara had asked a serving girl to help her into her underclothing and an overgown. But because the servant was only a kitchen maid delivering chocolate and a biscuit, Kara had not detained her. Kara had brushed and arranged her own hair, found a light woolen cloak from her trunk that Ian had ordered delivered to her tower room, and now she could stall no longer.

  Kara peered around the corner apprehensively. Ordinarily the hall would have been the castle's heartbeat, with common men and women coming and going, arguments breaking out and being settled. Here, Lord Dunnane would also hold court sessions to hear the complaints of the citizens under his authority. Today, however, the tapestry-lined room still served as a banquet hall. It was presently filled not with common folk but with wedding guests both male and female who had remained overnight.

  From her hiding place in the doorway Kara spotted young Harry seated at the dais before one of the two stone fireplaces that stood in opposite walls, eating heartily of sausage pie. Several spotted hounds lay at his feet beneath the table. He nodded absently as a tall, thin, bearded man spoke into his ear. Kara recognized the man from the previous night's banquet, but didn't know who he was.

  "Tsk, tsk, ye canna hide all the day," came a voice from nowhere.

  Startled, Kara peered directly around the corner to find her brother-in-law standing guard at the doorway. He had, no doubt, been there all along and caught her in the act of spying.

  "I do not hide," she said quietly, pulling back into the passageway so that neither the guests nor her husband could see her. "I merely survey my surroundings before entering them."

  She heard a deep chuckle. "A wise warrior, worthy of the Gordon name."

  Kara was glad to see Ian again and have the opportunity to thank him for what he had done for her that morning. But now she was unsure of how to broach the subject. She realized that he had done it for Harry, but it had saved her great embarrassment just the same.

  Apparently it was as unfathomable to her brother-in-law as it was to her that the Gordons should expect a boy of thirteen to consummate his marriage. He wasn't even old enough to grow hair on his chin, for sweet Mary's sake!

  She had no intention of lying with a child; he would grow soon enough. But in the meantime she knew she and Harry must hide the fact that they were indeed not truly husband and wife. It was obvious she now had a dependable ally in the ruse.

  "He's a good man, our young Harry," Ian said, his
words still meant only for her ears. "Will be."

  "Aye, I'm sure. But for now—"

  "He's still a boy," Ian finished quietly, seeming to know what she was thinking.

  Kara couldn't resist the hint of a smile. Perhaps her life here at Dunnane Castle would not be so dreadful. If there were others as compassionate as Ian, perhaps women, she might find companionship, friendship even.

  "I suppose I should make my entrance," Kara said after a moment.

  "His lordship is waiting."

  "Waiting for more pie, I think." Kara giggled and then was immediately ashamed of herself. She was speaking of her new husband, the powerful Earl of Dunnane. She had no right to disparage him.

  To Kara's relief, Ian chuckled with her. "Wait until someone brings him a plate of sweets. Then you will see the true width and breadth of his appetite."

  Kara shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A servant passed with a trencher of more meat pies and ale, and she shrank back out of his way.

  Ian waited to speak until the servant had passed. "Do you wish me to escort you? It's always easier for two to enter an uncertain room than one."

  She peeked around the corner at him again. He appeared unbelievably tall even in the great hall with its domed ceiling and massive stone walls. A giant even to Kara, who was quite tall for a woman. And he had massive hands; she had noticed them this morning when he had smeared blood on her sheets. Strong, masculine hands full of power and control, but kind hands. Hands that would soothe and protect a woman.

  She straightened her back and pressed her fingers to the girdle she wore at her waist. "I can enter a room alone, I assure you, sir."

  Again he chuckled. "Aye, no doubt ye can. Tell me first what you see, though."

  lan's voice was so gently probing, so personal, that it made her feel as if she were doing something she shouldn't be. Yet she couldn't resist his warmth, not in the cold world she lived in. "What I see?"

  "What have ye observed lurking in the shadows, my lady? What is your perception of the room and its men?"

  She peered around the corner, her gaze shifting from one group of clansmen to the next, to the dais, and to another gathering of men bearing arms. A cloud of smoke from the double fireplaces hung over their heads, the scent of sizzling meat and sweet apples heavy in the air. Someone played a few notes on a pipe, ceased, and then started up again.

  "Your clansmen are nervous," she observed. "They are unsure how the dice will fall with the new Lord Dunnane. Some are afraid, while others are anxious to find what power they can gain."

  "Not my clansmen. I am a Munroe. But you are quite perceptive."

  "My husband is hungry," Kara continued, seeing this almost as a game now. "He delights in the pie and the pup he feeds with his fingers beneath the table, but nae in what the man in the beard says to him." Her eyes narrowed, studying the black-bearded stranger closer. "Who is he?"

  "A wise man to spot and assess immediately. That is Dungald, my brother's cousin and next in line to Dunnane, should death befall Harry before he fathers a son."

  His words hung ominously in the smoky air.

  Kara touched the single pearl choker at her neck. "I do not like the way he speaks to my husband. He looks to be giving orders."

  "Guidance, I am certain he would say."

  Kara peered up at Ian, studying his dark eyes. She had caught the hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You do not care for my husband's cousin?"

  Ian smiled wickedly. "I adore Dungald, though I would not trust him any farther than my lady could toss him."

  Kara nodded, making note to avoid Dungald Gordon. She had lived long enough in her father's castle to understand the alliances men and women made. They could sometimes mean life or death.

  "Come, I believe Dungald has chatted long enough in my liege's ear. Let me formally introduce you." He moved into the doorway, offering his arm. "My lady."

  Kara stepped out of the relative safety of the dark passageway and laid her hand lightly on Ian's elbow. He towered over her, yet his size did not intimidate her. Something about the ability of such a large man to speak so gently led her to believe she had nothing to fear.

  As Kara and Ian entered the great hall, clansmen stepped aside to make way for her. They lowered their gruff voices, some taking the time to scrutinize her more carefully. There were a few women, wives of her husband's kinsmen, but even they appeared judgmental.

  "Kara." Harry spoke through a mouthful of pie. "Come, sit." He tapped the chair Dungald sat in to his left.

  Dungald scowled, his pointy black beard twitching as his pale lips moved. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but wouldn't the Lady Dunnane prefer to sit with the ladies?" He indicated a lower table set far from the warmth of the two great fireplaces. There, three women dressed for traveling sat drinking and talking.

  Kara noticed that Dungald's hand trembled with a palsy when he gestured. Harry thrust another forkful into his mouth. "I think I should ask her, don't you?" The boy smiled at her, flaky pastry caught in the corners of his mouth. "Kara, would you sit with the women or with me?"

  Without hesitation, she released Ian's arm and circled the table to claim the chair beside her husband. "With you, of course, my lord."

  "Good choice." Harry swallowed a great gulp of ale, seeming genuinely pleased to see her. "I'm quite sure the conversation is better here. Men talk of fighting English, blood and gore while women talk of nothing but babies and spinning." He waved his fork. "Out of her seat, cousin. My bride wishes to sit."

  Kara waited to the right and rear of the padded chair, taking notice of how differently her husband behaved now compared to the previous night. One would hardly believe this handsome, confident young man had cried himself to sleep only hours before.

  Dungald glanced up, his gray-green eyes meeting hers in challenge. He was an elegant man with black hair and pale skin, more handsome than any in the room perhaps, but his eyes were cold, like the gray stone of the castle walls.

  Kara said nothing, keeping her expression free of any emotion, though she felt as if she were prey being stalked. Something told her, some sixth sense, that this man was evil, and she had to suppress the urge to cross herself. She was afraid not just for herself, but for Harry, too.

  Dungald paused only a moment, not daring to delay any longer, but his point was obvious to her. He thought himself above her and he did not approve of her place at his lordship's table.

  Harry missed the exchange altogether, his mind as well as his stomach still focused on the pie.

  "My lady." Dungald slid out of the honored chair and offered it to her.

  Kara felt the stares of clansmen in the room as they followed the activity at the head table. She heard their whispers.

  "Sir." She nodded regally but did not make eye contact with Dungald again. "The serpent was more crafty than any beast of the field the Lord God had made," Kara thought, recalling Scripture memorized from childhood. A serpent in the garden, indeed.

  "Munroe." Dungald nodded a greeting, his tone patronizing.

  "Dungald."

  "Here, sit here, brother." Harry tapped the chair to his right, occupied by an elderly, graying man who slept, his head resting in his arms on the table.

  Ian moved to stand behind Harry and rested one massive hand on the back of Kara's chair as if his mere presence could protect her from Dungald. "Nae, my lord. Let Red Eye sleep. He's in need of a place to rest more than I."

  He chuckled and several men who had apparently been listening chuckled, too.

  "My lord, I hate to take ye from your celebrations, but when you finish dining, I must have words with you," Ian said to Harry. "We have much to discuss." He glanced over his shoulder at Dungald, who still hovered. "Privately."

  "Aye, aye. Council. Clansmen to speak with. That land dispute to settle. So many things to think about. They make my head ache."

  "I know ye wish to enjoy the festivities, but many of the men must return home. It would be a pity not to meet with them before
they return to their holdings."

  Kara wondered how Ian could speak seriously to Harry when the boy had food on his face. It was certainly unbecoming of an earl.

  As inconspicuously as possible, she slipped her handkerchief from her sleeve into Harry's hand.

  He glanced up at her questioningly.

  She touched the corner of her mouth, hoping no one else caught the exchange. No one but Ian did.

  "Oh." Harry wiped the pie from his face. "Aye, brother. Let me see my bride fed and then we will meet with whomever you see fit."

  "At least see Grey Gordon about his cattle. His mount is saddled for his departure. His wife is ill."

  "I've no need of anything, my lord," Kara assured Harry. "Please go, sir, about your business. Don't worry over me."

  Harry frowned. "But you're new here. And I wanted to show you my castle." He looked over his shoulder at Ian and pointed at Kara. "Can she come?"

  Harry's request obviously took him by surprise. "To Council?"

  Kara tried to protest, but Ian interrupted, recovering. "As ye like, my lord. She is your wife and certainly at your bidding. It might be good for the Lady Dunnane to see the importance of your lordship's position."

  "Want to?" Harry passed her back her handkerchief. He lowered his voice, speaking to her as if she were a playmate. "Mostly I find these meetings boring, but at least you would not be alone on your first day at Dunnane. It can be a frightening place, especially if you meet my cousin Dungald in a dark passageway." He smiled at his joke.

  Kara lowered her gaze, hiding her own smile. She could see that she could quickly grow fond of Harry Gordon. "As you wish, my lord husband."

  Harry climbed from his chair and every man and woman seated rose immediately. Harry flapped his arms. "Sit, sit. Be about your business. Ian." He started off across the great hall, a new green wool cloak about his shoulders.

  Ian waited for Kara and they both fell into step behind his lordship. All eyes were on the three as they entered a smaller room, which served as Harry's private chamber. She could not help but notice the serpent Dungald standing in the shadows of the smoky hall, watching them go, his animosity for her clear on his noble face.