Rogue Highlander: The Lady Sparrow

by Sondra Grey

  “Dundur,” said Leith, slowly. “You and I will have to speak further on our arrangements. But I accept your withdrawal of the proposal and will try and find a way to break it delicately to Anne.”

  “Macleod.” The Earl summoned Leith’s attention. “I would that you give Dundur, Isla, and me a moment alone to discuss our own negotiations. I hope you understand that this entire incident is an accident, and that you might enter negotiations with me, as I’ve a solution that might benefit all parties present.”

  Macleod nodded. “I am eager to hear your proposal, Lord Gordon, and I will await your summons elsewhere.”

  With that, Leith strode up to Isla, grabbed her hand, and kissed it. And when he looked up at her, his green eyes were earnest. “Isla,” he said, his voice was low that only those closest could hear, “Had I known such a beautiful woman was niece to The Gordon, you’d have had me at your feet. My mistake, Lady.” His smile was soft, and gave Isla hope that he was not angry enough at the slight to his sister to take it out on Calum. She felt miserable, realizing that she’d just broken up an engagement.

  But maybe you don’t have to, she thought, desperately. You don’t have to marry him. You have a choice! Just tell them what you want.

  She opened her mouth to deny them all, and looked at Calum. The words died on her tongue. He was so beautiful, and staring at her not with anger, but with a strangely intent expression. She shook her head, trying to clear it of sudden, unwelcome thoughts of doubt. But Leith was already striding away, Rhona, Tom, and Gair following him out.

  Then it was only Isla, Calum, and the Earl.

  She needed to speak now before it was too late. She straightened and met the Earl’s inquiring gaze. “Uncle,” she started, “When the Laird of Dundur knew me, I told him my name was Thomasina because…”

  “Well and of course you did,” the Earl interrupted, loudly. “A young woman travelling alone wouldn’t give a stranger her real name. You’re a smart girl.”

  Isla blinked. The Earl was giving her a warning glance. He didn’t want her to tell Calum about Elleric. She wondered what else she wasn’t supposed to reveal and continued hesitantly, “My point is that it was not his fault that he did not know the insult to you. If the Laird had previous arrangements with the MacLeod’s than he should honor those…”

  “Niece,” said the Earl, looking less amused now. “The Laird of Dundur did great injury to Clan Gordon. He kidnapped my beloved niece, held her hostage to his will, despoiled her, and then cast her out. He dishonored you. A Gordon.”

  As he spoke the Earl’s voice rose, grew harder, and Isla realized that, perhaps, the old man was not as amused as he appeared. Perhaps he was as angry as he declared, ready to declare war unless Calum acted.

  “You have my sincerest apologies and my deepest regrets,” said Calum, quickly. “My actions were born of desperation for my own nephew. As to your niece’s innocence,” he cast Isla another unreadable glance. “I take full responsibility for my weakness. She is a rare and beautiful woman, and I sent her home not knowing of the insult to Clan Gordon. Sir, I am not only obliged, but I am deeply honored to wed your niece.”

  His voice was firm, but Isla didn’t believe him for a moment. He wanted peace – that was all. He didn’t want her. And she didn’t want him either. Did she?

  But the Earl seemed convinced, for the anger faded from his face and he stood, clapping his hands together once before saying, “Then I will go get the contracts drawn up. I expect you and Isla have much to speak of.”

  The Earl left the room, casting Isla a sharp look of warning on his way out. She understood it: Do not speak about Elleric, the Stewarts, or even mention the word witch.

  As the door swung closed behind the Earl, silence descended, and Isla found herself unwilling to speak at all. Within her surged a terrible mix of emotions: anger, hurt, frustration, confusion and, worst of all, yearning. Seeing Calum standing there, his hair braided back and tied with a black ribbon, wearing his crispest white shirt, tartan perfectly folded and pinned – he looked powerful, handsome, imposing. In the months they’d been apart she’d forgotten the impact his presence had on her. She had trouble looking away, and her hurt was as fresh now as it had been the day she rode off.

  Calum stared at the floor, one hand on his dirk, the other hand clutching the back of the chair. His muscles were taught and stark against the thin fabric of his shirt. Over two minutes passed before he looked up, finally. His gaze was wary and he straightened, crossed his arms over his chest in a way that made his biceps bulge.

  “Is it true, lass? Is it all true? You’re his niece, and you’re pregnant with my child?”

  That was it? After all that had happened. He doubted her word. Still thought her conniving. She saw red.

  “Isla,” he said.

  “It’s a much better name than Thomasina, in my opinion,” she snapped, defiantly. It was the challenge in his tone that undid her tongue. She would not feel ashamed in front of him.

  Calum’s gaze narrowed further and he took a step forward before stopping himself. He dropped his arms, inhaled heavily through his nose and turned to pace the length of the room, then back. He stopped the same distance away and stared at Isla hard, as if trying to read beyond her words.

  “I’ll have the full story,” Calum said. His voice was low, but there was no anger in it. Instead it held an intensity that she couldn’t quite figure out. It was as if there was something else at stake in her answer. The full story? She couldn’t tell him the full story. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure what she could tell him.

  “You’ll have nothing from me that I do not wish to give.”

  Calum made a frustrated sound deep in his throat and paced away again.

  It was clear that he was as overcome with emotion as she, and was doing his best to master it. She was almost feeling sorry for him until he turned around and asked her, “Did you plan the whole thing, then?” He’d moderated his tone and now sounded merely curious, but his eyes were dark and forceful.

  Had she planned this whole thing? Rage, which had been simmering just below her defiance, boiled up and overflowed.

  “Oh! Of course I did!” She spat. “Of course I planned the whole thing!” She took a menacing step forward and was delighted when Calum took one back.

  “I planned for your men to stumble across me and drag me into your camp. I planned for your nephew to be injured near to death! I knew that when I’d run away you’d tie me up and drag me to your castle and guard me, like a prisoner, lest I try to leave.”

  To his credit, Calum had the decency to look embarrassed, but Isla didn’t care. “I somehow managed to orchestrate your fall in the woods. The horse kicked you in the head because I must have said something to it! I purposefully taunted you with my presence; I all but threw myself across your bed that first night! Oh no, you didn’t take advantage of me at all, you didn’t drag me off my path, force me away from my home and my family…”

  “Enough.” Calum’s voice cut through her diatribe like a crossbow bolt through iron. Isla fell silent without meaning to. She shut her mouth, drew herself up, and gave him her most withering stare.

  “Jesus, God, you’ve the tongue of a viper,” he said, but he sounded exhausted not condemning. He ran a hand across his face and pinned her with a look that refused guilt.

  “And you’ve the disposition of an ass.” Isla moderated her tone not one bit. “Did I plan to get pregnant by you? Of course not! Do I want to marry you?” He winced as she said it, and it might have been because her voice had raised an octave or because the idea was as distasteful to him at that moment as it was to her. “You’d have to stick a knife at my back to get me to the altar.”

  “I better not have to do that,” muttered Calum, running a hand through his hair and loosening his braid. “We’ve three clans in attendance. The Earl will have us married on the morrow.”

  “Well we’ll see about that,” said Isla, whirling around. She’d speak with the Earl;
he wouldn’t make her marry Calum Grant.

  As she reached for the door, Calum’s hand shackled her wrist. In one quick move, he whirled her around, twisting her arm gently, but firmly behind her back until she was chest to chest with him. She thought for a moment about struggling, but didn’t wish to hurt her arm. So, she glared up at him instead.

  “Lass,” he said, softly, and damn her body for quivering. She’d missed him so much in those first few weeks, had felt so alone and betrayed. Now he was here, chest to chest with her, but her pride was balking. He’d cast her aside. He’d pushed her away.

  “Lass,” he said. “It wasn’t so distasteful to you a few months ago.” He smiled at her; he actually smiled at her. Her rage spiked again, but it felt cold this time.

  “I was under the mistaken impression that you were a man of worth.”

  “Isla, I did not know who you were and had I known…”

  “Had you known you would have been kinder? You would have asked my uncle permission? But casting me away was fine because I was a nobody. Just a healer. Just another disposable body to warm your bed.”

  He looked pained and opened his mouth, then closed it. He shook his head. “Lass, I wish I had been the better man, and I cannot make an apology that would suit – there is none. But as it stands, we’ve no choice but to wed. You are the great niece of a powerful Clan Chief and you are pregnant with my child.”

  His free hand came down to grip her chin, and he tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Isla didn’t try to stop herself. She bit him, lightning fast and hard. Calum cursed, jerking his hand back, startled, and nearly dropping her wrist. Isla tugged, trying to get away from him, but he regained his hold and propelled them forward until they slammed into the door. The breath left Isla’s lungs in a whoosh.

  “Calm down,” he told her, but Isla writhed to free herself from his grip. Her free hand came up to strike at him, but he grabbed it with quick reflexes, holding both hands behind her back. She struggled as his grip tightened, panting as he trapped her between his chest and the wall. She tried to kick out and he stuck a knee between her legs to trap her in her gown. They were pressed flush against one another, the both of them heaving.

  Isla looked up to spit at him, but his gaze stilled her. It was carnal, hungry, and indeed, as he pressed into her she could feel him, hardening against her stomach. A wave of longing tore through her, her anger sharpening into something sensual. Damn her body. Acting against her wishes it softened, her chin tilted up, lips parting.

  Sensing the change in her, Calum’s smile was small, but didn’t reach his eyes. “Like that between us, is it?” he asked, and Isla shivered, hating herself for reacting.

  They heard the Earl’s voice before he reached the door. Calum released Isla, and they both stepped away.

  “All settled then?” the Earl boomed as the doors flung open. He strode towards his desk, holding a sheet of paper in his hand, followed by a portly gentleman carting a few large books. “Let’s get this contract drawn up.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  T hat night, the Gordons, the Grants, and the MacLeods dined on roasted pheasant. The great hall was full to the bursting with celebrating clansmen, drinking and toasting what everyone now seemed to agree was an excellent match.

  Isla had left the contract negotiations the moment her uncle had entered the room. There was no way she was going to marry Calum Grant, and so the negotiations mattered to her not one wit. She realized that neither Calum nor the Earl were going to listen to her. If she wanted to escape Calum, she’d have to follow her mother’s example and make a run for it when everyone was sleeping.

  Isla had also been hiding in her rooms when Leith Macleod had been summoned to the negotiations, but Gair and Tom had also been present for the contract signings. Gair had arrived at Isla’s rooms to recount the proceedings. Apparently, the gentlemen had agreed to an alternative arrangement. Anne Macleod would marry Christopher Gordon, and so the MacLeod’s and the Grants would still be bound by blood, but bound through their relationship with the influential Lord Gordon. It was an arrangement that suited everyone.

  Nobody said a word about the pregnancy. Apparently, all involved were content to blame the strange shift in betrothals on Christopher Gordon, who had put in a formal challenge for Anne Macleod and publicly attempted to appease Calum Grant by offering up his cousin. This had all been staged while Isla paced her rooms, planning her escape.

  Isla had fumed over Gair’s account of the incidents. Auctioned off like some milk-bearing heifer, and in public fashion! No wonder Deirdre had run away. Isla couldn’t imagine her mother acting as a chess piece on someone else’s board.

  Upon arriving to dinner at Rhona’s side, Isla had expected everyone to be tense. Instead, the whole of the room seemed to swell with merriment. Even Leith looked appeased, and smiled and winked at her when she was forced to seat herself beside Calum. To her immense irritation, Calum seemed entirely at ease. The Earl, at his merriest, even got Calum to laugh at one point. As if this whole situation were a joke! Only Rhona seemed as subdued as Isla felt; her eyes kept seeking out her niece’s as if to assure herself that Isla was all right. Realizing that Rhona was worried about her, Isla tried to relax. Rhona would be devastated upon learning of Isla’s escape, but Isla wouldn’t stay merely to spare her aunt’s feelings. She would not marry Calum Grant. She would not spend her life tied to someone who did not love her. She would go to another village. Get a job as a healer. She could have this baby herself.

  When the dinner was over, Isla all but fled from the hall and to her room. Rhona tried to follow her, but Isla told her aunt, as kindly as she could, that she wished to be by herself.

  The quiet of her room was in stark contrast to the noise of the hall, and Isla felt, suddenly, more alone than she’d felt in her entire life. More alone, even, than when she was fleeing Elleric. At least then she’d known she was heading to find family. Now, her family had abandoned her – sold her off to a man who didn’t want her.

  Isla would not cry. There was no control to be had here, not when you were tied to someone like the Earl of Gordon. You were a pawn, only; to be moved around in ways the benefited the clan. Isla needed to take action, to gain some control back. She paced her room, thinking of her mother.

  A part of Isla knew that her anger at the Earl was unjust. He was, to a degree, trying to see her and her child safely settled. When it came down to her current situation, she was, in a way as guilty as Calum, but she would not be manipulated by that guilt.

  She remained in her room until late in the night, when the castle quieted and she was sure that everyone had bedded down for the night. Then she left.

  The halls were empty when she tip-toed out, and she kept to the shadows on her way down to the stables. There was no time to pack, or find food. She’d sell her silver combs when she reached a nearby town and use the money to take her…where? To the lowlands, perhaps, where nobody had ever heard of Isla Macleay.

  That she met no one on the way to the stables was miraculous, but upon entering the front of the stables, she found several clansmen bedding down in the straw. She was forced to enter through the paddock doors, relieved when no one seemed to be sleeping near the back of the stables, where they kept the finer horses. Wondering which horse she might get to come along with her quietly, Isla wandered the stalls. She didn’t want to steal anything of value. She didn’t want to steal anything at all, but she needed to get away quickly.

  “I’d offer you my horse, but he might bite your hand off,” Calum’s voice at her back startled a shriek from her, and she whirled and backed away so fast she tripped.

  His hands shot out, and grabbed her shoulders before she lost her bearing. She wrenched away from him, backing up until the wood of a stall pressed against her back.

  “Quiet lass, you’ll not want the men in the front to hear and come running.” He warned, his voice low. She couldn’t see his face in the dark, but she could sense the danger emanating off of him. She ci
rcled to the left, trying to put distance between them.

  “There’s no use running, lass.” He shook his head, but kept his distance. His voice sounded almost pitying and she hated him for it.

  “How’d you know I was going to run?” she asked.

  “It’s how I met you, wasn’t it? Running. From what though, I still wonder?”

  “It’s not your concern. Nor is this,” she hissed, waving her hands. “You’ll leave me alone and say nothing of it!”

  Calum clucked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head. “And be made a laughingstock in the morning. No. Come, I’ll walk you back to your rooms.” He took a step forward and held out his hand to her. Isla swatted it away and took a step back.

  “Do not come near me,” she said. “I want nothing from you. I want to be gone from here!”

  “Tis not possible.” He was firm, his hand returning, steadily, palm out. “Come with me, lass, I’ll not drag you.” His tone brooked no defiance. Isla narrowed her eyes at him. She was out of options. Fine. Let him walk her back to her rooms. She’d wait a while longer and take her leave of him.

  “And don’t think to be running off after. I’ll sit outside your rooms if I have to.”

  Isla took a steadying breath, and then bolted. She grabbed her skirts and shot for the entrance. Tall and swift, Isla’s momentum carried her nearly out of the stables. But just as she was in sight of the doors, steel arms banded around her, hauling her up and back so suddenly that air burst from her lungs.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but a heavy hand came down and clamped over it. “Shhh! Do you want the whole castle to know what we’re about?”

  Isla struggled against his grip, biting at his hand until he removed it, swearing and dropping her. She stumbled up to run again, but he reached out and, before she knew it, had her pressed against the stable walls. He held her arms behind her back, so tightly she knew there’d be bruises in the morning. Before she could struggle, her hands were bound behind her by something that, she suspected, was the black ribbon he’d worn in his hair.