Highland Spitfire

by Mary Wine

  Her father pointed his finger at Laird MacPherson. “Me daughter is pure! Ye’ll be taking back that insult, or I’ll beat it out of ye!”

  Shamus MacPherson tossed his head back and laughed, the men behind him following their laird’s example. “Everyone saw yer daughter dancing with Lye Rob, making sure he got a good look at her ankles! Ye can nae expect me son to ignore a free tumble!”

  “Ailis Robertson is me wife!”

  Both lairds turned to see who was shouting. Shamus MacPherson’s face darkened when he found himself facing his son.

  “And it’s May Day, the time for dancing on the green,” Bhaic said.

  Liam Robertson wasn’t going to be satisfied with such an explanation. He tried to push past the Gordon retainer holding him back from Shamus MacPherson. The man let him through but closed the gap quickly to keep the Robertson captains from following their laird.

  “I never agreed to this marriage!” He stormed up to Shamus and poked him in the chest. “Me daughter is too good for the likes of a MacPherson! I won’t have it!”

  “But me son has already had her, and did nae see fit to keep her!” Shamus shouted. “I’ll nae stand for her weaving her spell over him because she can do no better!”

  “Ye bastard!”

  “Enough!” Bhaic shouldered his way between the lairds, Symon joining him. “The lass is nae part of this feud, Father.”

  He tempered his tone, but his father still took offense. “She’s a Robertson!”

  “I know it well, but there is a measure of wisdom in the Earl of Morton’s idea to end this fighting.”

  Neither laird was willing to soften their stance, but the men behind them found it to his liking. Expressions lightened, and dirks were replaced in the tops of boots with looks of relief.

  Her father glared at Bhaic. “Ye sent me girl back to me. The union is dissolved by yer actions. Ailis? We are heading home!”

  It felt as if someone had stuck a dirk through her.

  It shouldn’t have. Robertson Castle was her home, and she adored it, but Bhaic’s silence stung her pride and something deeper. Something she never would have considered ever feeling for a MacPherson.

  But she refused to show it. If Bhaic was going to watch her leave, she would not grant him any last looks over her shoulder.

  She reached down and grabbed her dress so she wouldn’t step on it. Bhaic grasped a handful of the back of her skirt and pulled her to a stop.

  “I was giving her time to adjust to our union,” Bhaic said. “The earl sprang it upon us so suddenly, I thought to spare ye and her a harsh parting.”

  Liam shook with rage. “Is that so?”

  Bhaic nodded curtly a single time.

  Her father raised his finger into the air. “Then why did yer father call me daughter a harlot? Why does yer own sire know naught of yer plan to claim yer bride?” he shouted. “Because a MacPherson does nae know how to speak the truth! They are born with lies on their lips!”

  “Father!” Ailis ducked around Bhaic and pushed her father away from Shamus MacPherson. “Yer words are too harsh.”

  Her sire looked at her as if she’d gone insane.

  “Too harsh?” Liam demanded. “They are…MacPhersons!”

  She was suddenly bearing the weight of all her clansmen. There were more than two hundred burly Highlanders leaning in to hear for themselves what she would say. The women farther up the hill edged closer and cupped their hands behind their ears. Whatever she said, it would be branded upon her forehead for the rest of her life. If blood flowed in response, it would stain her hands for certain.

  She swallowed and lifted her chin.

  “No child is born hating.” Brows lowered among her kin, their lips pressing into hard lines. “I detest the way the earl made his point, but he was right about one thing, we’ve all learned to hate one another over something that was done generations ago.” She lowered her voice. “Maybe it’s time to look to what sort of future we can build if we are nae consumed with the past.”

  “How dare ye say such a thing!”

  The two lairds had spoken simultaneously, and were now stunned into silence. They stared at each other, sticking out their chests, but neither could take back what he’d spoken. Her father started to stroke his beard, until he realized Shamus MacPherson was doing the same.

  Neither was happy about having anything in common with the other, but they could not deny it.

  “How nice to know ye both agree.” Symon Grant raised his voice so it might be heard by all those straining to hear. “I’ll admit that’s a surprise, but one I’m happy to witness.”

  “Mind yer tone, Grant,” Shamus snarled. “Ye are too newly weaned from yer mother’s breast to be thinking ye can use that sort of voice with me.”

  Symon reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet. Shamus grumbled, but turned and began conversing with his captains.

  The tension dissipated, the men watching them relaxing.

  Everyone except for her.

  Her father’s captain had a hand on Liam’s shoulder and was talking quietly in his ear. Her father’s lips were pressed into a hard line, but she could see him beginning to relent.

  That made her throat go dry.

  It made sense, and would benefit all of the men and women watching, but it would mean she had to be Bhaic MacPherson’s wife.

  She couldn’t do it.

  The thought chilled her, sending her back, away from the men deciding her future. It was for all the right reasons, yet it horrified her.

  Do nae be so selfish!

  She had to maintain control, but it felt as though the tighter she closed her resolve around her emotions, the more cracks they found to escape through. The very fabric of her life was shredding, leaving her exposed and unprotected against the unknown.

  Shamus MacPherson suddenly lifted his hand, and every man wearing his colors went silent. Her father looked at him, and the Robertsons followed their laird’s lead.

  “I was…overly harsh…in me comments about yer daughter’s dancing.”

  Shamus looked as if the words had taken every bit of strength he could muster. He drew in a huge breath when he was done, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

  Ailis felt her jaw drop. She was frozen in silence as her father stiffened, looking as though he was holding his breath. His face turned red before he gasped and replied, “Yer clansmen are nae born with lies on their lips.”

  The captain behind Shamus patted his laird on the shoulder, increasing his strength until there was a soft “thud” every time his hand landed on the older man’s back.

  “I’m getting to it,” Shamus snapped and sent his captain a hard look before picking up his feet and stomping toward Liam with his hand extended.

  Her father made him wait. His own captains were leaning into him, pressing him forward. Liam Robertson held out until he stumbled forward beneath their weight. He ended up facing Shamus and clasped his wrist.

  The men watching let out a cheer. It was deafening, and echoed by the women looking on from afar. There was suddenly music, pipers sounding as the fair resumed with a fervor. The merchants applauded as her father roared, “I need me a drink, lads! And something to wash it down with!”

  Ailis was sure she needed one more than anyone else.

  * * *

  “I never thought to see the day,” Bhaic remarked.

  Symon Grant was standing next to him as the Robertsons and MacPhersons celebrated in joyful excess. Full hogsheads of ale were opened and drained. Men lined up to have their mugs filled and then returned for another measure. As the ale flowed, the men began to swing the women up and around. They practiced the art of hefting, by throwing the women from man to man along a long line. The women squealed, and their eyes sparkled with merriment.


  “Neither did I,” Symon responded. “But ye were jealous of the little lass dancing with Lye Rob and no mistake, me friend. I saw it with me own eyes.”

  Bhaic sent a punch into Symon’s shoulder. “I was nae speaking of that.”

  “Still trying to deny it?”

  “Ye’re making too much of it,” Bhaic informed him.

  “Now that’s a shame,” Symon responded, a smirk on his lips.

  Bhaic shot him a hard look. “No, it is nae.”

  Symon’s smirk widened into a smile, tempting Bhaic to punch him again.

  “It’s a shame, because it looks as though ye will be taking yer wife home, and it might be best if the two of ye liked each other. But”—he glanced around—“it looks as if young Ailis has escaped ye, so it’s likely a fine thing that ye were nae jealous. Otherwise, ye might take her absence as a personal rejection.”

  Bhaic stiffened. He scanned the women, searching for Ailis.

  Damn her.

  All the good she’d done would be reduced to rubble if she didn’t appear at his side when his father’s men mounted up to ride home.

  The little fool.

  He refused to allow her to destroy what had been built. The bridge between their fathers was fragile, but with time, it would strengthen.

  So his wife would just have to become accustomed to his company.

  * * *

  She just needed a moment.

  Ailis moved back into the forest, seeking shelter.

  It wasn’t something she had decided to do; it was some instinct that flickered to life as she watched the celebration grow louder and louder.

  Nothing came from nothing. Her father had raised her to know there was a price for everything. Her throat felt as if it was swelling shut—she was the price being paid for peace. Not that it should surprise her. She would be joining a long line of brides sent to their clans’ enemies to stop bloodshed. It was a noble cause, one she agreed with. But that didn’t stop her from feeling like a prize mare.

  Ye’ll feel more like one when Bhaic gets the time to mount ye.

  The worst part of that was the knowledge that she was just as interested as he was.

  Oh, for Christ’s sake! Get a grip on yerself! What are ye? A lass of sixteen?

  That thought sobered her. She was twenty-three and obviously ready to become a woman.

  She drew in a deep breath and straightened her back. She was going back. Aye, back to keep the bargain she’d struck.

  “Ye do nae have to go with him.”

  For a moment, she thought she imagined the words. But she turned her head and caught Lye Rob coming through the forest.

  “I was planning to try me hand at courting ye, but it seems I am going to have to move forward to asking ye to wed me, Ailis Robertson.”

  “I am already wed.” The words felt clumsy, but she held her chin steady.

  Lye Rob shrugged, his lips set into a pleasant grin. “Me father has no liking for the MacPhersons. He’s made it plain he would favor a match with ye. Do nae be so naive as to think this bit of peace will be lasting. The Robertsons and MacPhersons have been enemies for too long. Once the ale has been slept off, they will be fighting again. If ye wed me, the Robertsons and Gordons will have the numbers to match the MacPhersons.”

  It was a horrifying thought, packed with enough truth to nauseate her. Her choices were clear, and she had to make the right one. “I am going with me husband.”

  His expression remained cajoling, but something flickered in his eyes that chilled her. It was cold and hard and very calculating. There was a crunch behind him, and she noticed his retainers moving closer. She took a step back, and Lye Rob’s grin faded into a hard line.

  “Come with me, and I swear ye shall have time to consider me offer.” He offered her his hand. “If ye go with Bhaic MacPherson, ye’ll be in his bed tonight.”

  “Ye’ve got a clever way of twisting words, Lye Rob Gordon.”

  Bhaic’s voice was menacing and coming from right behind her. Ailis jumped, but he’d already reached for her, and she ran into his hand. Pain went through her shoulder, stopping her retort.

  “Ye say time to consider,” Bhaic said, “but what ye truly mean is ye will give her until ye reach yer father’s holding.”

  Lye Rob shrugged. “I did nae lie.”

  Bhaic gripped her shoulder and pulled her behind him. She stumbled. Lye Rob was focused on Bhaic, his men guarding his back.

  “Mind ye,” Lye Rob said, “I’m glad to see ye. Wedding a widow is simpler than proving her marriage to ye is unconsummated.” He pulled a dirk from the top of his boot. “It will save me the trouble of making sure someone sees me fucking her.”

  Her eyes rounded with horror. “Ye toad!”

  The calculating glow in his eyes burned brightly. He tossed the knife from hand to hand as he closed the distance between himself and Bhaic.

  “Get to yer father’s side, Ailis,” Bhaic said.

  “But—”

  “Now,” he ordered sternly.

  He was a man accustomed to being obeyed. She backed up, but stopped when she realized they were surrounded by Gordon retainers. More had closed in behind them while Lye Rob distracted them. She bent down and picked up a branch—a thick, heavy one—and gripped it as if it were a club.

  Lye Rob laughed, looking past Bhaic at her. “Do ye think ye can hurt me?”

  Ailis didn’t get the chance to reply. Bhaic took advantage of Lye Rob’s inattention and charged. Bhaic had his arms open wide and got them around Lye Rob’s chest. He surged up, lifting the other man off his feet, and twisted around to drop him on the ground.

  Lye Rob snarled, but Bhaic had his arms locked around his throat. His arms bulged as a muscle on the side of his jaw twitched. Lye Rob thrashed, desperately trying to gain enough leverage to upset Bhaic.

  The Gordon retainer near them lifted his arm to join the fight. Ailis never really decided what she was going to do, but she leaped forward, the branch lifted over her head. She brought it down on the retainer’s raised arm. The shock shook her bones and made her elbows ache, but she carried through with the blow.

  The retainer yelled, his scream startling several birds above them.

  “Not man enough to take me on yer own, Lye Rob?” Bhaic swung him away but pulled the knife from his hand. “Ye’re a coward, and yer men lack honor.”

  Ailis moved in a circle, two burly retainers stalking her. They had their arms stretched out wide, their stances low. She had to keep shifting her gaze from one to the other to keep the branch aimed at them.

  “Kill Bhaic MacPherson, and the prize is ours, lads!” Lye Rob yelled as he lunged toward Bhaic.

  The retainers made a grab for her, but she swung the branch in a wide arc and hit one of them on the side of the face. He twisted around and landed on the forest floor in an unconscious heap.

  Lye Rob let out a hoarse cry, and she turned to see him cradling his arm. His wrist was bent at an odd angle, clearly broken.

  “Now this is an interesting scene.” Symon Grant appeared beside her. He lifted one foot and kicked the retainer still threatening her in the groin. “I almost do nae have the heart to interrupt. It seems fitting to have Gordon cowards brought low by a woman.”

  The woods were suddenly full of men. Symon’s retainers and Bhaic’s came through the forest, their expressions deadly.

  Lye Rob turned and ran, his kilt bouncing until he was hidden from sight by the trees. His men followed, and Bhaic grabbed the branch Ailis was still holding in front of her. He tossed it aside and pulled her against his body.

  “Ye could have screamed, lass, but I admit, I think I enjoyed yer response more.” He pressed a hard kiss against her mouth to the delight of his men.

  “Come, me lads, it’s ti
me to head for home. I have a bride to settle.”

  He clasped her wrist and pulled her along behind him. Her feet felt clumsy, but the weight of his men’s stares were on her. Lye Rob was right about the peace being a fragile one. She forced a smile onto her lips and picked up her feet so Bhaic wasn’t dragging her.

  It was obviously the last May Day where she’d be wearing her hair down. Her gaze settled on the wide expanse of Bhaic’s shoulders and then down to where his fingers closed all the way around her wrist.

  God help her.

  * * *

  “Me boy, ye need to stop going off as ye please,” Shamus MacPherson admonished his son. “Ye’re me son, and as sure as the Blessed Mother was pure, there are men who would like to send ye home to me dead.”

  “No doubt that’s why ye gave him a captain,” Symon supplied with a wink.

  Bhaic’s eyes narrowed, and he tugged Ailis closer. “There are times a little privacy is in order.”

  Ailis watched Shamus MacPherson look at her. Really look at her. His face was wrinkled from the harsh climate of the Highlands. His beard had gone completely white, but his eyes were still the same brilliant shade of ocean blue. Just like his son’s.

  “Aye, I suppose I can understand that.” He was the last man she’d ever expected a compliment from. Yet it was there, in the twinkle in his eyes. He lifted a hand and waved her off. “Go on and bid farewell to yer father.”

  She lowered herself, placing one foot behind her and bending the knee to give him deference.

  She heard his captains making soft sounds of approval. Some of them were stroking their beards in contemplation as she rose. Gaining respect from them would not be simple.

  Bhaic stepped into her path.

  “Ye’ll be watched this time, Ailis.”

  His tone was low enough to stay between them, but there was no mistaking the rage. If she did miss it, all she had to do was look into his eyes to see the anger glittering there.

  The man was furious with her.

  And she was going home with him.

  May Day was the worst day ever to look for a husband.

  * * *

  “Ye scared her away,” Symon observed. “Nae exactly a good way to preserve the peace.”