“Truly?” he finally asked.
She nodded.
He slowly exhaled, his eyes difficult to read. “As a lad, ye looked younger than Willie, but I thought ye closer to Mary’s age,” he muttered.
“Twenty-two,” she repeated. “A woman of that age is auld enough to ken her own mind, aye?” Old enough for marriage and bairns, certainly, although that wasn’t what she was asking from him.
“Auld enough to ken what she wants might no’ be what is best for her clan.”
She frowned. Was it? By laying with Merrick—which is what she wanted—she might lessen her father’s chance of making a marriage alliance with another clan. But there was no reason for her father to learn of this dalliance, was there?
So, she lifted her chin and boldly stared at this devil of hers. “I’m auld enough to ken what is best for me, and ken how to get it without mucking up clan politics, Grandda.”
And, saints be praised! The man actually smiled at her insult. “No’ yet, wee Saf. Unless Mary or Willie does something stupid, I’m a long way from being a grandda!” He poked her in the shoulder, and it felt almost playful. “I’m no’ even twice yer age, ye ken, and I’m no’ walking with a cane yet.”
With the way the afternoon sun glinted off his wide shoulders, and the weight of his sword in her arms, Saffy knew he wasn’t anywhere close to decrepit, so she smiled right back.
And that might’ve been the end of it—since she’d banished his sour mood—except Andrew and Mary chose that moment to emerge from the stables, their arms around one another, laughing.
There was hay in Mary’s hair, and a love-bite on Andrew’s neck.
Merrick must’ve realized it the same moment Saffy did, because he let out a roar, dropped the waterskin, and snatched his sword out of her hands. As Andrew instinctively pushed Mary behind him, Merrick started across the courtyard.
“Ye think to protect her from me?” Merrick growled, reaching the couple as Saffy ran after him. “Ye’re the one who’ll answer for yer sins!”
“Nay, Da—” Mary began, but Andrew interrupted her.
“I’ve no’ sullied her, Laird.”
But Merrick was drawing his sword. “Being with her is sullying her! I trusted ye to—”
Was the man really going to cut Andrew down? Here in front of the gathering clan members? Mary looked torn between hysterics and anger, and Saffy knew she had to do something.
“Merrick,” she said softly. “Look at yer daughter.”
Maybe it was the fact she’d used his name, a first in public. Andrew glanced at her in surprise, but she kept her attention on Merrick. He jerked back, as if irritated by her interruption, and when he glared at her, she kept her expression as neutral as possible, willing him to understand her point.
Saffy was someone’s daughter. She knew how it felt to have her life planned out for her, whether she willed it or not.
He was the Sutherland Devil, feared and admired for his swift justice. Heaven knew she was fascinated by his quick decisions and intellect. But there were times when he needed to stop and consider another’s point of view before he meted out that justice.
Finally, Merrick swung his gaze to Mary, and spent far too many heartbeats staring at his daughter. Was he remembering how it felt to save her from Robbie? Was he wondering about guilt and anger and heartbreak? It was impossible to guess.
Merrick slowly lowered the sword, and Saffy knew she wasn’t the only one to breathe a sigh of relief. Andrew, for his part, kept his arms spread wide to prevent Mary from rushing around him. But she pushed against him, her pale eyes locked with her father’s, half-pleading, half-defiant.
It was a long moment before Merrick spoke. “Mary?” he asked, his tone deadly.
“No matter how much I begged, Da, Andrew wouldnae go too far.”
She said it proudly, her chin up as tears ran down her cheeks. Around them, murmurs started, and Saffy could tell from Merrick’s wince that he understood what his daughter had done. Mary had taken the entire blame for the situation on her shoulders.
“And ye, lad?” Merrick said in that same low tone.
Andrew swallowed, meeting his laird’s gaze bravely. “I ken she deserves better than me—”
“’Tis true,” Merrick interrupted, scowling once more at his daughter. “Ye do deserve better than him.”
Mary smiled softly. “And I love ye for thinking so, Da, but I need you to see him the way I see him. He’s a good man, one ye taught to be good.”
No one moved for several long moments. Then, to Saffy’s surprise, Merrick flicked a glance her way and cocked a brow.
Was he asking for her opinion?
Saffy mirrored his expression, hoping he’d clarify.
He didn’t. Both of his brows lowered into a scowl, and his irritation at her not answering was obvious.
She swallowed down her grin, knowing that, despite how happy the realization she could understand him without words made her, this wasn’t the time for levity.
She sighed instead. “Devil, the lad is stubborn and needs more training, but”—she hurried to clarify as more than a few bystanders sucked in shocked breaths—“I ken ye donae have a more loyal or more ardent warrior than Andrew.”
Merrick was holding his sword in one hand and lowered it until the tip was pointed at the ground. He stared at her with those eyes as if he couldn’t understand her.
Saffy nodded, hoping she was making sense. “He’s a good man, Devil. Or, he will be, assuming ye let him live. Mary loves him, and she’s old enough to ken her own mind.” Would he remember their earlier conversation? “And she’s strong enough to make sure he’ll never dishonor her or the clan.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Mary straighten proudly, but Saffy didn’t nod encouragement the way she wanted. Aye, her words were about Mary, but they were about herself, as well.
“She’s strong, Devil,” she whispered, “because she’s yours.”
Quicker than she could blink, Merrick reached out, fisting his fingers in the front of her surcoat. She barely had time to let out a surprised “eep!” before he yanked her toward him, until she half-dangled, nose to nose with him.
And there, in front of his daughter and Andrew, in front of his gathered clan, he kissed her.
Saffy kissed him right back.
She wrapped her arms around his neck for support, which allowed him to drop his hold on her and snake his arm around her back, pulling her closer. His lips crushed against hers, not the gentle nibbling and suckling he’d shown her beside the stream, but something passionate and primitive and glorious.
And she met him head-on, giving as good as she took.
It was long moments before the cheers penetrated her focus. She and Merrick pulled apart at the same time, and as he let her slide toward the ground, he seemed much more relaxed.
He stared down at her for a long moment, then shook his head, and looked around at his clapping and cheering clan members. “Well, lass,” he said loudly, “looks like I wasn’t the only one who saw through your disguise.”
Saf was too shocked to make sense of his words. He’d kissed her. In front of everyone. When she’d been dressed as a lad! But they were all cheering—did they all know she hadn’t been what she appeared? Andrew looked surprised, but Mary was grinning broadly and clapping enthusiastically.
Well, even if they hadn’t known she was a lass, Merrick’s words confirmed it.
It also meant he was no longer keeping her secret.
She should’ve been upset by that realization, but instead, she felt free. She socked him playfully in the stomach, and to her surprise, he grinned.
“Ye’re the worst squire I’ve ever had, Saf,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up beside him.
“Nay, I’m the only one who will challenge ye at chess,” she corrected cheekily. “Although ye donae let me wash yer back nearly often enough.”
He’d never actually allowed her to do that, but
that didn’t stop the hoots from the listeners.
Merrick rolled his eyes and steered them both toward the stables, pushing past Andrew and Mary.
“Ye are bold to speak up in the lad’s defense.”
“’Twas the truth I spoke.”
He was silent as he released her and they stepped into the shadows of the building. “Mayhap,” he finally said, heading toward his horse, “Andrew is a good lad.”
“And Mary is a strong woman, auld enough to ken her own mind.”
He paused in the action of strapping his sword to his waist and met her eyes. “The same as ye, Saf?”
“Aye.”
“Will ye tell me yer real name?”
Sapphire was no saint’s name. It was unique in the Highlands, mayhap in the world. If she gave it, he’d know her.
But something had changed in him when he’d kissed her that way. She couldn’t keep pushing him away, not if she wanted a chance to pull him closer. To kiss him again. To see if he’d bring her as much pleasure as she was hoping.
So she finally said, “My sisters, my family…they all call me Saffy.”
It wasn’t the full truth, but it was enough. He jerked his chin once, and finished lashing the leather scabbard in place. Then he swung up on his horse and dug in his heels.
“Well, Saffy. Will ye help me wash my back?”
When he held his hand down to her, she knew she’d never get a better chance than this. She reached up, grasped his forearm as she placed her foot on his booted toe, and allowed him to hoist her into the saddle ahead of him.
And when they burst out of the stable, and his clan broke into cheers again, she was smiling.
Chapter Ten
To hell with good intentions.
He didn’t need any more bastards, but Clan Sutherland needed an heir. An undisputed son of his and his wife. It was why he’d married Elizabeth and Katharine, despite having young Willie in his heart already.
Aye, he needed an heir, and he’d have to marry to get one. In the meantime, though, he had a willing woman sitting on his lap, begging him to pleasure her.
Seeing Saf—Saffy, whoever she was—stand up to him—to him!—in front of his clan…
It had made Merrick see her in a new light.
She wasn’t just some lass disguised as his squire. She was brilliant and passionate and witty as hell. She teased in him a way no other woman had, not even Anna. Saffy met his irritation head-on, and had the guts to stay his hand when he was prepared to mete out justice.
She’d saved Andrew yet again, hadn’t she?
He was done fighting himself. She was unlike any other woman he’d known, and he wanted to taste her, to make her scream his name. He could do that without planting his babe in her belly.
He wasn’t sure who she was, but he was done fighting this attraction to her.
Smiling, he lowered his chin and nuzzled against the side of her neck. He liked the way she sighed and tilted her head to give him better access. As his lips skimmed over her skin, he couldn’t decide if he appreciated her short hair or not. It meant less hair in his way, but he couldn’t sweep it out of the way. What would she look like wet?
The thought of Saf naked and dripping wet made him hungry.
“Where are ye taking me?” she murmured.
Anywhere ye want. But instead he said, “Somewhere close. Where we can be alone, and ye can finally wash my back, as ye’ve been begging.”
“Good,” she said. “Ye stink like a man who’s been training all day.”
He dragged his tongue across the smooth skin below her ear, reveling in her delicate taste and loving the way she shivered.
“Ye like it,” he growled.
“Aye.”
When she shifted in his lap, his cock jumped in excitement, and he found himself grinning against her skin. It was like the decision he’d made had lifted a weight from his shoulders.
He nudged the horse to move faster.
“Is it safe?” she asked suddenly.
Knowing she was thinking of the attack from the Lindsays, he grunted. “’Tisnae far from the keep, but nae one will bother us.” He tightened his hold around her middle, hating the thought of her fear. “I’ll no’ let harm come to ye again, ye have my word.”
“I trust ye.”
He used his chin to move some of her hair to one side. “Aye, Saffy? Enough to tell me why ye’re on my land?”
It was like she knew he was trying to keep the mood light. “Nay, Devil, no’ quite that much.”
Despite her denial, her tone was light, and he found himself chuckling.
They reached the waterfall soon enough, and he swung down and reached for her. “With the horse here to announce our presence, we’ll no’ be disturbed.”
She was looking around in wonder. “So, we’ll be completely alone? To do whatever we wish?”
No’ quite whatever ye wish, lass.
He shrugged and moved toward the bank. To his left, the stream tumbled from a height twice a man’s reach, over a series of boulders until dropping off and crashing into the pool before him. He knew from past explorations that the area behind the last fall was private, and a bit magical.
Were he the sort of man to believe in magic, that is.
He felt her move beside him, and when she slipped her little hand into his, he turned and smiled down at her.
“’Tis beautiful here,” she whispered, staring at the waterfall, its roar nigh covering her words.
“Aye.” As he agreed, he pulled her away from the water, away from the noise. “I thought ye might like it here. We have much to discuss.” Like his announcement that he had every intention of giving in to her seduction, if not actually claiming her as his own.
She hummed, but followed willingly. “Like what? Ye didnae drag me out here to punish my boldness?”
With a small grin, he wrapped his arms around her, and liked the way she laced her fingers behind his waist and cocked her head back to meet his eyes.
“Yer boldness deserves some sort of response, ’tis true. What do ye suggest?”
“Hm. Well,” she said with a shrug, “I suppose I could take all my clothes off and climb over yer lap, and ye could punish my bare arse.”
His brows rose. “And that’s something ye think ye would enjoy?”
“Oh, nay.” Her eyes twinkled as she wriggled against him. “I was rather counting on ye being distracted once ye had me in yer lap.”
He had to chuckle at that. “I would be, aye. And I have nae intention of punishing ye.” He blew out a breath. “Nae one, not even Gavin, has had the audacity to stay my hand when I was prepared to mete out justice.”
“Nae one?” Her brows rose in surprise.
Well, there’d been once… “Many years ago, I caught a lad reiving on my lands. He was part of an outlaw band, but I caught him with the ewe in his arms, so I hanged him.” He watched her pale slightly, and wondered at it. “He didnae die instantly, but I was determined to mete out justice. I should’ve drawn my sword and ended it. When the laird I was with finally drew his dirk, I assumed that was his plan, but he cut down the lad and lectured me on second chances.”
“And the lad?” she asked with a strangled whisper. “What of him?”
“He devoted himself to that laird.” The name of the Sinclair Hound, the loyal bodyguard, was whispered in awe throughout the Highlands. “And despite my anger at the man countering my justice, I saw the rightness in letting the lad live. ’Tis why I…”
He shook his head, not needing to go into the story of his attempted alliance with the Sinclairs. But she pushed.
“Why, what?”
Speaking of his past, of hard lessons learned, had softened his ardor somewhat. He loosened his hold on her and sunk down on a thick patch of grass. Still holding his hand, she followed.
“’Tis why, in the spring, I approached that laird and requested a marriage alliance with one of his daughters. Allying with the Sinclairs would allow us to stand strong agai
nst the Mackenzies. Not only because of our matching strength, but because one of Sinclair’s other daughters is now married to the Mackenzie Regent.”
She dropped his hand and pulled her knees up to her chin, then wrapped her arms around them. He knew he hadn’t confused her—not with her sharp mind—so what was she thinking to make her frown like that?
“Is that the only reason you made the alliance?”
The alliance had fallen apart when the daughter Duncan Sinclair had offered broke the contract to take holy vows. Only, Merrick had heard she’d married someone else instead. No need to bother Saf with all that.
He shrugged, resting his elbow on one knee and staring at the waterfall.
“I needed an heir. I still do, I suppose. Willie is a good lad, smart and strong. But his mother…”
“Anna,” she said in a strange voice.
He glanced at her and frowned at the way she was hugging herself. “Aye,” he muttered, shifting until he was close enough to touch her. He rested his weight on the hand he planted in the grass behind her back. “Anna was…I was barely a man when I met her. She was older than me, but had a love for life that made me…happy.”
Whatever he’d said must’ve touched something in her, because Saf’s shoulders loosened with a sigh, and she dropped her arms from her knees. “Will ye tell me about her?”
He shrugged again. “No’ much to tell. Da refused to let me marry her, but that wasnae unusual. He had a dozen bastard children, of course, and so did his father. The whispers say that when a Sutherland laird joins with a lass, she’ll bear his babe.” It shouldn’t be possible, but it was hard to ignore the evidence. “I thought I’d follow in his footsteps, until…” Until he’d held wee Mary, then wee Willie, and known he’d move heaven and hell for them. “Well, once I became laird, maybe I would’ve married her. But Anna died bringing another bairn into the world.”
Her hand covered his. “I’m sorry, Merrick. Did ye love her?”
He blew out a breath. “Aye,” he said simply. “Da told me I was a fool, but I’m no’ sure the man kenned how to love.”
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