Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  * * *

  Ian made a conscious effort not to watch the tall, regal Kara take her leave when she excused herself from Harry's private chamber to return to her rooms. He found her entirely too distracting in ways he preferred not to explore.

  Kara was barely out the door before Harry jumped from his chair and began to chatter.

  "I like her, don't you? My father made a good choice in marriage for me—well, for my brother," he corrected himself as if it were a small detail.

  Ian couldn't help but smile. He liked to see Harry happy. After the death of his brother in battle followed only six months later by the death of their father, Harry had had little to be jovial over lately.

  So great a change so quickly for such a young man. One moment he had been a younger son, living in Edinburgh with his mother, taking lessons in French and Latin, and the next moment an earl and heir to great lands and responsibility, as well as a husband. He had not been as prepared as his brother William had for this position, and his age compounded his unreadiness for the task.

  It was Ian's responsibility to see Harry through until he matured. Appointed by Harry's father during his brief but fatal illness, it was his responsibility to advise Harry, guide him, protect him, and mold him to be the man his lordship had known the boy could be. Though Lord Dunnane, his mother's second husband, had been Ian's stepfather, the man had been kind to him. He had given him many of the opportunities he need not have provided his wife's child and had even confessed as he neared death that he wished Ian would be next in line to inherit rather than his brother's hawkish son, Dungald.

  "She's pretty, too, isn't she?" Harry continued feeding cake morsels from a plate to a hound that licked his fingers and whined.

  For two hours Lord Dunnane had been meeting with clansmen in need of advice or his lordship's approval, and the boy was growing bored and tired. It was Kara who had shyly suggested a brief recess, and Ian had agreed that she was right.

  "I have never seen red hair like hers, all red and golden like the setting sun."

  Ian noted that his half-brother's observation was accurate. Kara was indeed pretty, beautiful even, though perhaps not by the standards of the day. She was tall, neither slender nor heavy, but hardy in appearance, as if she could hold a sword if need be. Her skin was fair and slightly freckled. And her eyes were the most intriguing color, sometimes blue, sometimes green.

  "My lord, you sound severely smitten with your wife," Ian teased, remaining seated, sifting through documents Harry needed to sign and set his seal upon.

  Harry's face reddened at his remark but he did not address it. "It's Harry. I understand why you must call me that in front of others, but can't I just be Harry with you?"

  Ian looked up from his recorder's table. "If you like, Harry. But I would suggest you not give others the same allowances. They will forget too quickly who you are and thus diminish your power over them."

  "Except Kara, of course. That's all there is; away with you." Harry shooed the dog, wiping his hands on his breeches. "I may allow my wife to call me by my Christian name, may I not?"

  Ian smiled again, but he felt a twitch of jealousy in his chest. What need did a thirteen-year-old have for a woman like Kara? She was the kind of woman, in different circumstances, he might have married.

  "Do ye think she likes me, Ian?"

  "I think she likes you as well as she can, considering she has known you less than a day," he answered more coolly than he had intended.

  Harry nodded, pacing the small room. "Of course you're right. I just want her to be happy. I want her to like it here at Dunnane. I want her to like me."

  Ian flipped through several documents. "Ye want her to be happy, do you? Then perhaps you should delay our mother's arrival a little longer. I don't suppose it would be possible to arrange another washed-out road?"

  Harry laughed. "Mother will like Kara. I know she will."

  Ian lifted an eyebrow doubtfully. "Come, now. Sign these documents. There are still men who wait to converse with you."

  Harry flopped down in the chair that had been his father's only a few short months ago. "Must I? I'm tired. And I want to try my new bow." He rested his chin on the heel of his hand, a blond lock falling forward over his face. "Did you see the bow Dungald gave me as a wedding present?"

  At the mention of his cousin, Ian's mood darkened. "An unusual wedding gift."

  "I thought he was trying to make peace after the things he said about me not being fit to hold the title." He glanced down. "About my father."

  "I am certain those were words spoken in haste in an emotional moment and soon regretted."

  Harry twisted his mouth one way and then the other. "Perhaps, but I fear he doesn't like me."

  Ian set down the documents to give the boy his full attention. "Harry, ye must understand that many men will not like you, if only because of who you are and what you represent."

  "It shouldn't be like that."

  "Nae, it shouldn't."

  Harry jumped up. "I'm going to find Kara and show her the castle."

  Ian rose. "My lord, your men—"

  Harry passed him, fluttering one hand in a gesture Ian had often seen the previous Lord Dunnane make. "Take care of the matters or tell them to wait, I care not." He set his jaw, meeting Ian's gaze, taking a childish tone. "It's my wedding celebration and I'm going to do as I please."

  Ian lowered his gaze, trying hard to keep his position in mind. Though he was Harry's adviser, he was still his servant. "Aye, my lord."

  Harry pushed on the stone wall near the rear of the chamber and a nearly invisible door swung in. He hesitated in the doorway. "Ye may come if you like. Try my bow."

  "Nae." Ian lowered himself onto his stool again. "Take some time alone with your wife, my lord. Get to know her better. It will only serve Dunnane. Just be certain to stay inside the walls."

  As Ian watched his half-brother go, he could not suppress the unwelcome wish that he were in the boy's place.

  Chapter 3

  "This way." Harry motioned from the end of the dark passageway. "Hurry, before someone comes."

  Kara glanced behind her, then at Harry, unsure of what to do. The corridor was narrow and dank and the walls sweated with moisture. It smelled of musty soil, rodents and something rotting she dared not attempt to identify.

  She felt utterly ridiculous running down dark hallways following a boy, but what was she to do? He was her husband, and lord over her. He wanted her to come. And he certainly didn't belong in the catacomb of cellars beneath the castle alone. Again her mothering instinct surfaced. What if he slipped on the wet stones and injured himself? How long would it be before someone found him here?

  She held up her sputtering candlestick. "Harry, I really think we should turn back."

  "Nae, not yet. We're almost there," he said excitedly. "I just want you to see the nest."

  She batted her lashes, glancing heavenward in a silent plea. What had she done to her father as a child that he should punish her so as an adult? Surely a woman in her mid-twenties, well into her childbearing years, should not be running about her castle in search of baby rats!

  Impatiently, Harry waved the torch he carried. "Please, just a little farther. Then I promise we'll go back. We'll go to the kitchen and find a warm treat. A cup to warm your insides."

  She hesitated a moment, then gave in, thinking it would be faster than standing here and arguing with him. "All right, a little farther. I will see your treasure, but then it's back to the great hall. Your men await you, my lord." She lifted a handful of her skirt, the hem wet against her stockings, and hurried to catch up with him. "You cannot take your leisure when your clansmen wait for you."

  "Ye sound like Ian now. Both of you talk only of responsibility and never of fun." He stomped off ahead of her, gesturing. "Ye don't understand how hard this is for me. He doesn't understand. He's the big hero, fought in the war, killed men. Everyone respects him—they're afraid of him. No one respects me."

>   She thought to disagree, but he was probably right, and she would not be dishonest with him.

  "No one asked me if I wanted to be an earl," Harry finished.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to counter that no one had asked her if she wanted to marry a child, but she did not voice her thoughts because she knew it would serve no purpose. Her situation was as it was, and she had to make the best of it. "I think I do understand how hard this is for you," she said, tempering her urge to speak as if she were his mother. "At least I understand some of it. I, too, tire of my duties sometimes."

  He stopped, lifting his torch to see her face better. "Ye do?"

  "Aye. But I have found that I can have both."

  "Ye have?"

  "With a little planning, aye. And I'm certain you could do the same. Why not set time aside for your duties to your people, and time aside for yourself and your own pleasures?"

  He nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right."

  She went on quickly while she had his attention. "I'm certain that your brother could help you schedule time for yourself if you express your wishes."

  He grimaced. "Ian thinks of nothing but duty. He doesn't understand. He doesn't know what fun is." He studied her again, thoughtfully. "But you could make him understand, couldn't you? He would listen to you."

  "My lord—"

  "Harry." He stomped his foot. "Call me Harry, at least when we're alone. I don't like all that 'my lord' nonsense. It's still hard for me to see myself as the Earl of Dunnane." His voice filled with emotion."'Tis my father who is the earl, not me." He looked down at his fine leather shoes.

  "Harry, then," Kara said gently, brushing his shoulder with her hand. "I shall speak with Ian on the matter of some free time for you if you wish."

  He glanced up again, his sorrow passing. "I wish it. Now come on, come see my rat's nest!" He took off into the darkness and Kara had to run to keep up with him.

  * * *

  "You should not have permitted him to go down there." Ian held a huge finger beneath her nose, speaking through clenched teeth.

  "I should not have permitted?" Kara flared.

  "Do you realize the danger of traipsing about in the darkness in those dungeons? He could have fallen and struck his head."

  "I was with him to see him safe. Besides, he would have it no other way. He was going with or without me. Remember, thirteen years old or nae, he is my lord and I am under his command."

  Ian paced before the fireplace in the great hall, which was empty save for an elderly clansman slumped asleep in a chair pulled up to the opposite fireplace. Several of Harry's dogs dozed at the clansman's feet. "I see," he went on, obviously not hearing a word she said. His tone took on a caustic air. "You were there to catch his fall. You were there to defend him should he come upon a blade in the darkness."

  She pressed her fingers to her girdle. "Come upon a blade? What are you talking about, sir?" She knew she should not speak so to her husband's brother but she would not be bullied. Not in this house. She had lived too many years under her father's bullying. "There are no knives lying about the cellars, waiting for boys to fall upon them."

  "Nae." Ian whipped around, his broad face strained with barely suppressed hostility. "But there are knives in men's hands."

  She opened her mouth to retort, then clamped it shut, staring at him in horror as she realized what he implied. She lowered her voice. "You mean there are men who want to see Harry dead?"

  "There are always men who want to see others in power dead. It is human nature." He lowered his face close to hers. "Dead men leave land, and land is what men have been fighting over since Genesis."

  Kara struggled to understand, divided by her concern for Harry, and Ian's nearness. Ian made her uncomfortable standing so close to her, his breath on her face, but she didn't know why. She was certainly not afraid of him. "But Harry is just a boy. Surely no man would—"

  "Just a boy whose father amassed great wealth, land and even some popularity with the king."

  Kara turned away from Ian to face the crackling fire. The light and warmth spread across her face. "Is this general apprehension," she asked softly, "or do you have reason to believe someone actually plots to see him dead?"

  Ian was at her side in an instant. He caught her arm, placing pressure on her soft flesh with gripping fingers. "I speak of real men, with real daggers."

  At his grim tone, she was suddenly afraid for the boy she had known only one day. She was surprised by her overwhelming urge to protect the young earl. Why did she care if the boy died? Left a widow she could return home to her father's castle or remarry, taking a small portion of Harry's monies with her. What did she care who the castle Dunnane fell to? She was not a Gordon, but a Burns, from far to the west.

  But she did care. She cared because she'd become quite fond of Harry in the few hours she'd known him. She cared because he was an immature boy trying to be a man, expected to be a man. She cared because she could not help but care for the sobbing child she had held in her arms last night.

  The pressure from Ian's fingers on her arm made her intensely aware of how close he stood to her again. How intimately he touched her. She swallowed, the heat in her face coming from within now, rather than the flames. Something about this man made her heart beat irregularly and her stomach flip-flop.

  She carefully disengaged her arm, confused by her emotions. "Ye did not tell me he was in danger from his own men," she said softly, stepping back a safe distance from him. "Does he know?"

  "I have tried to make Harry understand, but I'm not sure he does. He is very innocent in the ways of the world, Kara." He chuckled, but without humor. "All that concerns his lordship right now is that his men like him... and his new wife."

  At mention of her, she glanced up expectantly. "Me?"

  He held her gaze, no laughter in his eyes. "Aye. His lordship is quite taken with you." He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, then glanced away.

  She couldn't help but wonder what he had wanted to say. Did he mean to say that he, too, was taken with her? "And... and I am taken with him."

  A strange silence hung between them, at once filled with electricity just before a storm. What was this feeling, Kara wondered, both fearful and anxious at the same time. She had never felt a bond like this with anyone before, not even her mother.

  "My lady," Ian said, seeming to feel the spell and the need to break it. "We both realize that these circumstances are not the most desirable—your marriage, I mean. But, should his lordship live to adulthood, he will make a good husband. A good provider. A good father."

  At the mention of children, Kara immediately thought of the way that men and women made children. Somehow, the longer she knew Harry the less she was able to imagine doing that with him, even when he grew older. Already she saw herself more as a surrogate mother, a protector, a friend, but not a wife in the true sense of the word.

  "I would do anything to see him safe," she said, and she meant it. "I did not mean to encourage his foolhardiness, and it will not happen again."

  "It's a fine line I walk here, my lady." Ian yet again drew closer to her.

  Why was this man so set upon being so near her? Didn't he know how uncomfortable he made her? Why was he so intense? Why was she so drawn to him?

  Kara could not back up. She was already too close to the fire.

  "He is a boy trying to do a man's job," Ian said. "I must teach him to be a man, but I cannot entirely ignore the fact that he is still a boy. What was he doing in the cellars?"

  "He wanted to show me a nest of baby rats he had discovered." Just saying it out loud made her feel foolish.

  To her surprise he smiled. "His lordship has a soft heart for animals. Should he want to show you baby rats again, you need only to seek me. No man would dare draw a knife with me near."

  Kara's gaze lifted from his belted leine chroich to his chest, as broad as a bronze shield, to his compassionate eyes. "With that I cannot disagree."

/>   Again he smiled, but this time the smile was not for Harry, but for her. Strangely, it warmed her to her toes.

  "Very well, should we have the need to hunt rats, I will call you."

  "Should you have any need," he said, full of seriousness again. "You must call me. I do not mean to fill your head with my importance, but I am all that keeps some men from killing our Harry in his sleep. Do you understand?"

  Our Harry. A bond between her and Ian that could not be broken.

  She folded her hands. "I understand."

  "We are allies, my Lady Dunnane."

  "Kara, please call me Kara, at least in private."

  Again that broad smile. "Allies, Kara."

  "Allies."

  She offered her hand and he accepted it, squeezing it in his much larger one.

  Kara didn't know if it was her imagination, but it seemed that he held her hand a moment longer than he should have. And it seemed to her that she let him.

  Flustered, she backed away, bobbing a half curtsy. "His lordship is in the kitchen eating cake. I'll fetch him and send him to his office."

  She turned away and hurried off, feeling Ian's gaze on her back as she retreated.

  * * *

  "Wonderful! Wonderful!" Harry clapped his hands enthusiastically as the players brought their tune to an end. "Wasn't it wonderful, wife?" He lifted a cup of ale to his lips.

  Kara forced a smile. It was late and she was tired, but Harry had wanted her to remain at his side for the evening's entertainment after the meal, which she had barely touched. There were still wedding guests at Dunnane, and Harry insisted upon being a good host. He had served another banquet and hired traveling entertainers to juggle, sing, and recite poetry.

  "'Twas wonderful."

  He grinned at her, then turned to the minstrel. "Another. Play something so my wife and I may dance."

  Kara's gaze fell to her goblet, still full to the brim with wine. "No, Harry, 'tis quite all right," she said softly.

  "My lord is right," Dungald interrupted loudly from two chairs down. "The earl has not danced with his lady wife all evening."