Highland Bride

by Colleen French

  "Haven't in over a hundred years!"

  Another chair glanced off the same wall and split. Kara charged toward the middle of the hall, her husband stumbling after her.

  "Where are you going?" Harry had to run to keep up.

  "I will have no fighting in my hall," Kara said, pushing her way through the crowd that was gathering around the two brawling men. "It's barbaric!"

  "It's Scotland," a bearded redhead commented, laughing.

  "Not in my hall," Kara snapped.

  "Kara, wait." Harry grabbed her shoulder. "I'll not have ye in the midst of that. You're liable to be injured."

  She hesitated. She didn't want him hurt, but she realized this was an opportunity to show the Gordons who was indeed the rightful heir to Dunnane. She turned to face her boy-husband. "All right," she said quietly. "Then you settle it."

  Harry's jaw worked up and down as she took the scotch from his hand. He swallowed hard, tugged on his shirt and gave a decisive nod. "Aye. You're right, wife. We'll have no brawling in our hall." He swept one hand, his voice filled with bravado. "They can well take their fight into the courtyard or be tossed in my dungeon."

  Those around Harry stepped back to let him through. Kara took a deep breath as he passed.

  "Stand back, wife."

  By the time Harry reached the inner circle, four men were fighting, two against two. "Gentlemen," he bellowed as loudly as he could. Luckily his voice did not crack. "Gentlemen, there will be no fighting in my hall!"

  As if to punctuate their defiance, Matty MacFae threw a punch, George Gordon ducked and Matty's fist accidentally caught Harry's shoulder.

  To everyone's surprise, Harry reacted instantly, swung and struck Matty square in the jaw.

  A cheer rose among the clansmen.

  Kara cringed. Suddenly she was in a sea of men pushing to get a closer look. Two more men added to the ring, three, then four. Fists were flying. Shouts of encouragement rose and fell with the tide.

  Harry caught Matty again, this time on the chin. Matty drew back his bony fist, and before Kara could cry out a warning, MacFae's fist met Harry's nose squarely. His face flowered red as he stumbled backward, flailing his arms.

  Kara had enough good sense to know it was too late for her to step into the middle of the fray now. The men were beyond the point of reason. They no longer even knew who they were hitting. Her great hall was quickly turning into a dockside tavern.

  "Ian!" she cried, pushing out of the crowd to circumnavigate the fighting men. Where was he? She hadn't seen him in the hall when she entered. "Ian Munroe!"

  She reached the entrance to the hall just as he was entering.

  "What the hell's going on?" he demanded.

  She threw up one hand. "What's it look like? A fight! George Gordon and the eldest MacFae started it, but it's becoming worse."

  Ian strode toward the center of the melee, pushing men aside with his elbows and hands.

  "Harry's in the middle," she called after him.

  "George Gordon!" Ian boomed. "Matty MacFae! What in bloody hell makes ye think you two dogs have the right to—"

  Kara never heard the last words out of Ian's mouth. One of the new brawlers slammed a chair against Ian's back and he spun around in fury. Reaching out to lift the man with his bare hands, he shook him until his teeth chattered.

  Men cheered. Women covered their mouths and gossiped, but made no attempt either to draw their husbands away from the fight or to move to safer ground.

  Ian tossed the man aside and reached for another. He caught a punch to his left cheek, spun his attacker around and sent him colliding with another. The men were in such a frenzy that they seemed to have forgotten who they were fighting or why.

  Ian swung one thick fist after the next, catching two men in their jaws, one after the other. He stuck out his leg and tripped another man bent on reaching Harry.

  Harry jumped on the fallen man's back and began to pummel him. The two flipped and suddenly it was Harry being beaten.

  He was enjoying it, for heaven's sake! Harry was enjoying the fight!

  "Enough," Ian shouted, demonstrating incredible strength by literally lifting the man off the bloody-nosed Harry. "Enough, gentlemen, else you'll all be in the dungeon. I swear by all that's holy, I'll carry ye down there myself."

  Kara watched as he plowed through the men, his face bright red with anger and exertion. As she watched, a strange sense of fascination was added to her anger and fear. While the other men in the brawl staggered and swung unevenly, Ian was like a dancer in some macabre performance. Every move seemed well rehearsed. He swung his fists rhythmically, dodging blows from one man as he sank a punch into another man's stomach. Slowly they were beginning to fall and not get up.

  Harry lay on his back, panting. His nose was bleeding, his shirt torn, but he appeared to be unharmed. The wound on his leg had not reopened. Recalling the incident in the courtyard and Ian's previous warning concerning her behavior in the presence of the men, Kara suppressed her urge to run to her husband.

  Another man fell, and soon it was only Ian and George and Matty left fighting.

  "Do the two of ye not realize when enough is enough?" Ian demanded.

  Matty swung one fist, then the other, but Ian dodged left, then right, and managed to come around his back and grab him tightly by his linen shirt. Ian twisted the shirt until it tightened at the man's neck.

  "Let go! You be choking me!" Matty protested.

  "Stop struggling," Ian answered, "and you'll breathe well enough."

  George attempted to take a swing at Matty, but Ian caught his arm with his spare hand and twisted it behind George's back. George shot upright immediately, bending backward, knowing his arm would snap under the pressure of Ian's grasp if he moved.

  Harry dragged himself off the floor, grinning. He wiped at his bloody nose with his sleeve as he approached the men Ian held at bay.

  "I have had enough of this feud," Harry announced, strutting up to them. He seemed exhilarated by the drink or the fight—perhaps both. "I will settle it here and now or arrest you both. Am I understood?"

  Matty's head lolled, his face bright red. George glared.

  "Understood?" Harry demanded. He glanced quickly at Ian. "I've that right, don't I?" he whispered.

  "Aye," Ian answered, panting. "The land is under your jurisdiction."

  Harry spun on his heels and headed for the dais. "Lady Dunnane, my cup."

  Kara watched with astonishment as he strode toward the head table. "Now. I will settle this matter now."

  Kara followed him and handed him his silver cup, which he downed. She didn't know what had gotten into him and she wasn't certain she liked it.

  "Let them make themselves presentable," Harry ordered. "And then they may come before me and I will hear the argument." He clapped his hands with an authority no one had seen previously. "Musicians."

  And they began to play.

  Chapter 16

  "You think this wise?" Kara whispered in Ian's ear.

  He had taken his customary position behind Harry's chair, but had leaned over her shoulder to hear her.

  "He's been drinking," she murmured. "He's too full of himself."

  "Let him stretch those new long legs of his. He can make no worse of the matter than his father did before him."

  Kara met his gaze. There were rumors in the castle, women's gossip, that the previous earl had not been the best manager of the land and its people. But this was the first time she had ever heard Ian hint that there might be some truth to the matter. She didn't know why, but she had naturally assumed that Harry's father had been a man worthy of his position.

  "The two families have been fighting for more than a hundred years. Perhaps men will admire our Harailt for taking a stand." Ian straightened and returned to his guardian position behind Harry's chair. He tucked his hands behind his back and stood like a mountain in his Gordon kilt, a silver-handled dirk strapped to his waist.

  Kara cast her gaze
in the direction of her husband. Harry had ordered a plate of food. He drank from his horned cup and stuffed bread into his mouth as he awaited the appearance of the men he had ordered before him.

  The musicians still played but there was no dancing. Party guests gathered in knots, spoke in hushed tones and tried to speculate how their young earl would rule on the land dispute. The knots were divided down the center, with approximately half the guests on one side of the hall and half on the other. Supporters of each camp, no doubt.

  "A map," Harry said over his shoulder. "Ian, I need a map of the land they're arguing over."

  Ian stepped closer and leaned over Harry's right shoulder. His shoulder brushed Kara's, the physical contact putting her on edge. It was difficult for her to suppress her natural impulse to reach out and stroke his arm.

  "We've no map, my lord," Ian said. "But I could sketch one quick enough. I know the lay of the land."

  Harry nodded. "Make it so. I do not want either of the men offering the sketch; how will I know if he tells the truth?" He made a sound between his teeth, calling to the young spider monkey that perched on the edge of the table. The creature he had purchased earlier in the day from the traveling monkey man came running for the tidbit he offered.

  Ian disappeared into Harry's private chamber off the hall. He reappeared just as George Gordon and Matty MacFae approached the dais. Both had washed the blood from their hands and faces, run a comb through their hair and attempted to straighten their rumpled, torn attire.

  Harry pulled the monkey into his lap and waved for the two men to step forward.

  Kara thought to quietly suggest to her husband that perhaps he should set the pet aside while he made this important ruling. After all, what would two men, each twice his age, think of a lord who played with a monkey while making a decision that would alter their lives forever? But she thought of what Ian had said about allowing Harry to grow up and she bit her tongue.

  "Gentlemen, I understand this dispute has been going on for quite some time."

  Matty MacFae, a redhead with blue eyes, opened his mouth to speak, but Harry held up a hand to silence him.

  Someone gasped at Harry's unprecedented assertion of his authority. Kara had to cover her smile with her hand as she silently cheered for him. Ian was right; Harry was trying his legs.

  "This dispute has been going on for a century, a century too long." He eyed both men as he stroked the monkey in his lap. "Now, as I see it, you men have two choices: you may agree to the settlement I will make, or you can be escorted to the dungeon below." He opened his hands. "What shall it be?"

  The rivals glared at each other.

  Matty MacFae spoke up. "My lord, I do not mean to question your authority, but—"

  "Then don't," Harry snapped.

  Again Kara had to hide her smile.

  Harry raised his hand to Ian. "The map."

  Ian leaned over the table to smooth out a bit of parchment he had sketched upon."'Tis a rough illustration, but self-explanatory." He pointed with his finger. "Here and here lie the borders of their properties, and here is the land in dispute."

  Harry studied the map. "How much land?"

  "A small parcel." Ian calculated in his head. "Perhaps twelve, fifteen acres."

  "'Tis not the size of the land," George interrupted. "But—"

  Harry glanced up, locking gazes with his distant Gordon cousin.

  The men fell silent.

  Harry returned his attention to the drawing. "And what is this squiggly thing?"

  "A narrow creek."

  "That runs approximately down the middle?"

  "Aye."

  Harry pushed aside the map and looked up. "A hundred years? Ye've been fighting over these rocks for a hundred years?"

  "'Tis a fine meadow," George Gordon mumbled.

  "Excellent water supply," Matty said.

  "'Tis a complicated matter—"

  "My father—"

  "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" Again Harry raised his hand. This time not only the men before him grew silent, but so did the entire hall.

  All eyes were upon the young Earl of Dunnane.

  "Today is my birthday. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my evening discussing this matter when it's already been discussed a thousand times?"

  No one answered.

  "I do not," Harry said. "So here is my decision. Abide by it, or you'll be residing in Dunnane's dungeons." He grabbed the map and spun it around so that the two men could see it. "This stream now divides your property, gentlemen. MacFae's land here, Gordon's land here."

  Matty MacFae's jaw dropped. "But my lord, my grandfather died upon—"

  "I have made my decision, MacFae; now be silent or take your leave to the darkness below!" Harry was quiet for a moment and then went on. "MacFae land here, Gordon land here. The stream divides the land. Both men may share the water that flows, but the division of property lies down the center of the stream. My decision is final. You are dismissed, gentlemen. Should I hear of bickering between you or your families, I will see you here before me again and I will not be in such a pleasant mood next time. And now I think I would like to dance with my wife. Go before I change my mind and send you to the dungeon anyway."

  Both men stared at Harry for a moment, then bowed and backed away.

  Harry nodded in the direction of the lead musician, and he launched into a tune.

  Harry lifted his goblet and leaned toward Kara, smiling behind his cup. "I almost sent them to the dungeon anyway. Just so I could say it. I've always wanted to send someone to the dungeon." He chuckled and drank.

  Kara glanced over her shoulder, wide-eyed, at Ian. His face was immobile but his eyes sparkled with amusement. Amusement and pride. Their Harry had done well.

  "Want to dance?" Harry said, jumping up and seating his monkey in his chair.

  Kara offered her hand. "I would love to."

  The entire room was abuzz with Harry's decision. Kara could hear them humming, feel them staring as she walked out into the center of the room with her husband. They were all shocked that Harry had made the ruling. The question now was whether they agreed with it. She couldn't tell by their faces. All she could see was their surprise. Apparently no one had expected this from their young earl.

  Kara and Harry took hands and danced. As she turned and dipped, lifted the skirt of her gown and curtsied, she took in the faces of her guests. Many she knew now, some she did not. The knots of men and women had broken up. Some were beginning to take their leave for the night; others were moving toward the casks of ale and wine, intending to stay until dawn.

  Harry clasped Kara's hand, turned her and pulled her close. As she spun away, fingertip to fingertip with him, she caught a glimpse of a smiling face in the crowd. A face familiar, yet not familiar. Who was that man with the bright red hair? Why was he watching her?

  She had to turn away to meet Harry again. As she turned back, she saw that the man was gone. Red hair... bearded. Like so many Gordons, and yet different.

  Then she realized who the man was.

  "Harry," she whispered.

  "Aye?" He was grinning at her.

  "Harry, 'tis Robert the Red."

  His forehead creased. "What?"

  "Robert the Red, the cattle thief, he is here."

  Harry halted in midstride. "Where?" He turned slowly in a circle.

  "I don't know. He was here a moment ago. There by the cask."

  Other dancers had joined them on the hall floor. They spun and turned around them. Onlookers clapped, and some stomped their feet.

  "I see no one but old Edgar the blind drunk by the cask. Wait, there's Dungald, refilling his cup." Harry craned his neck. "Nae, he's filling my cup." He grinned. "That's kind of him."

  Kara caught Harry's hand and started for the head table. "Ye should tell Ian. The men should check the perimeter at least. What if the thieves are here beneath our roof, Harry?"

  He frowned. "Ye gods, woman, what thief would be so bold? We've more
than a hundred Gordon clan swords within these walls tonight."

  She spotted Ian near the door to Harry's private chamber and headed toward him. "Tell him or I'll tell him myself."

  Harry sighed. "All right. But you return to your seat. Have something to drink. Ye look flushed. I'll take care of the matter."

  Reluctantly, Kara let go of his hand. "Well enough, my lord," she said quietly. "Just be certain to tell him I spotted Robert the Red."

  "You worry too much," Harry said, smiling up at her; then he leaned forward and kissed her.

  Kara had nowhere to go, no way to avoid his mouth. She shut her eyes as their lips met. They were cool, dry.

  She lowered her gaze and walked away, her emotions in a jumble again. Had she encouraged his behavior? More importantly, what was she going to do about it?

  Would this day never end?

  * * *

  "Tired?" Ian asked Kara.

  They were alone at the head table. It was past midnight, but there was no indication that the birthday festivities were slowing down. Many of the women who were spending the night had given thanks to Kara and then retired to one of the many chambers throughout the castle. The great hall was now almost entirely occupied by men who were growing louder and more boisterous by the hour, thanks to another cask of ale that had been brought up to the hall.

  "Tired and weary," she said.

  "Your monkey, madam?"

  She laughed. Asleep on her lap lay Harry's new pet. "You see, even the poor wee monkey is exhausted."

  He touched her lightly on her back.

  She let her eyes drift shut for just an instant. She needed so much to feel Ian's touch right now. But of course it was impossible. The room was full of Gordons, of witnesses.

  Because Ian stood behind her, no one could see him caress her back with the pad of his thumb. "Tell him you're tired and wish to retire. Ye've done your wifely duty, more than your duty," he said quietly.

  She watched two men arm wrestle. Spectators stood in a ring around the table, tossing coins in wagers. Harry was cheering the smaller man on.

  "I don't suppose there was any sign of the reivers."

  "Nae."

  "I saw him, Ian. I'm certain of it."