Belonging to a Highlander

by K. M. Patterson

  A man who couldn’t be but a few years younger than himself hefted the wee demon and continued to hold her in stark relief. The happy reunion elicited a scoff from Hugh but offered the opportunity to size up the formidable brother Catriona had wasted not one moment on their rerouted journey here to tell him of.

  The lass had used every breath to expound on what horrid things Jamie would do to him when they arrived at McBruiey Keep. Hugh couldn’t stop the chuckle that rose in his throat at the reminder. The lass never realized all forms of torture were nothing compared to what Laird McBruiey was more than like to do. It was the invisible shackles he feared the worst.

  Jamie and Catriona bore similarities in the color of their hair—Jamie's being a bit lighter, a dark blond—but that was as far as their likenesses went, aside from both siblings being appealing in looks.

  Jamie was quite taller than his sister, naturally, and broad of shoulder. Whereas Catriona's face was slender and her chin pert, Jamie's was more angled and his jaw square-ish. A minor cleft ran down the center of Jamie's chin, clearly visible under the day's growth on his face.

  He looked like a man unraveled after being wound tightly by vexation. It was now Hugh's turn to be stretched on the rack of uncertainty and fear, though until moments past he had not known his insides could be coiled up any tighter than they already were.

  "Laird."

  Hugh turned to the whispered voice of the lad standing next to him. Young Seth.

  "Here, lad," Hugh said, pushing the reins of his destrier into the much smaller hands of the boy.

  When he looked back to Laird McBruiey and the man's sister, Hugh met a baleful stare. Hugh's gaze snagged on the other man's before he briefly glanced down, below the laird's sternum, to catch the hint of a smile as Catriona turned her head into her brother's chest as she hugged her brother relentlessly.

  Really, enough of her antics were enough.

  If he ever got that wee hellion back in hand, he would soundly see her punished for what she had put him through.

  Och! What would the lass have her brother believing of me? Hugh wondered.

  But wasn’t it she who wished to prevent their marriage so badly? He remembered her bold outcries, her adamancy that he return her to the abbey instead of taking her home. The threats and dire warnings of Jamie's fury.

  Schemes, most like.

  The man before him did not seem so foreboding now.

  Perhaps, if he had even an ounce of luck left to him, she would not be against him in this however.

  "McCross," Laird McBruiey said. His brogue rattled on the fine edges of malice. "We've much to discuss."

  Hugh risked one last look at Catriona as the lass erected herself and stood in front of her brother with her delicate hands clutched together. Only he noticed that her grip tightened, turning her knuckles white as she looked on him. The fine mask of indifference and confidence shielded her nervousness, yet her pallid complexion belied her mettle.

  Their gazes locked for but a moment.

  Jamie lifted a hand and gave Catriona's shoulder a squeeze just as she tilted her chin at Hugh and looked down her nose at him, as she was fond to do.

  The twinkle in her eyes did not match the air she tried for.

  No.

  The lass much enjoyed this, despite the dreaded outcome.

  Hugh smoldered under a carefully tight smile. "Aye," Hugh said. "That we do."

  Hugh gave Alaric a brief nod, signaling him to stay with the men, and then followed the laird and his sister up the steps of the keep. He now noted the sprawl of brawny highlanders who had spilled from the large, open doors behind their laird, each wearing a glower that matched as equally as the plaid they sported.

  What in the hell did Laird McBruiey feed these lads? Each man staring him down matched Hugh in size and bulk.

  Either the lass had doused him with another lie, or she was entirely inept at discerning those who cared for her from those who did not. For at that moment, it seemed she had a legion of men who greatly cared for her.

  And thusly wanted him flayed.

  "Cat?"

  Catriona and Hugh alike whirled at the sound of the young man's voice, though only the intrusion startled her slightly more than it did him.

  "Gillie!" she squealed and ran, throwing herself into the arms of the skinny young man.

  Hugh stood back watching yet another happy reunion through slanted eyes.

  Gillie quickly dropped Catriona back to her feet and bent to hug her. He was a leggy young man of perhaps a score, maybe. Thin and scrawny with hair cropped unevenly, the lad seemed harmless and ungainly.

  "I did'na ken you would be here," Catriona cried, as she backed from their embrace, each still holding the arms of the other.

  Gillie shied a moment and shuffled his feet. "I've been staying with Jamie since my mother took ill."

  Catriona's concern was sharp. "Jamie," she said reproachfully, turning on her brother. "Why did'na you tell me of our aunt's illness?"

  "'Tisn't for you to vex over. Go now," Jamie said, handing his sister off to another wearing the McBruiey green and gold tartan, a red-haired man Catriona seemed entirely familiar with. "Get yourself cleaned up and in fresh clothing. I shall have a feast prepared for your safe return." His eyes fell and locked on Hugh.

  Hugh however turned his attention and watched as the lass took the man's proffered arm and started away with him. Gillie followed along at their side, the trio chatting unceasingly. Less was said from the brutish red-haired fellow, but he seemed just as fond of the lass as any here.

  Catriona had barely crossed the hall before a multitude of servants, and one small child, rushed her and spirited her away further into the keep. Hugh was left with the impression that perhaps these people knew an entirely different woman than he.

  "'Tis weel you can'na take your eyes off her, I suppose."

  Hugh jerked his attention back to the laird. "I—" he started.

  "This way, McCross," Jamie said before Hugh had the chance to finish, and motioned Hugh to follow him.

  He was completely unused to following the orders of another man, but Hugh only gave the slightest pause as Laird McBruiey turned his back and started away.

  Hugh walked with the man down a neatly kept corridor, the rushes under his boots remarkably clean for the end of winter, when fresh snows were no longer falling and had the tendency to stick to one's soles and make a mess indoors.

  The inner keep was just as striking as its exterior had been. Kempt, nicely decorated with rich tapestries and polished sconces. Even the servants’ clothing was in crisp order. Nary a single thing seemed out of place.

  They entered a private chamber together through large, oak double doors. A roaring fire brightly lit the inner recesses of the room leaving not a corner in darkness. Jamie shut the doors behind them. As the other man stalked ahead into the chamber, Hugh looked over the richly appointed quarters with a third and fourth wave of envy as he spied the laird's writing table. Even heaped with parchment, Hugh could tell the piece was handsomely fashioned.

  Truth was, he wasn’t so envious that Jamie had a beautiful keep replete with nice things. It was that the other man was obviously seldom ever called away and stayed with his lands to tend to his people himself. A task Hugh was anxious to do.

  If it were not for his debt.

  If it were not for Catriona.

  Hugh rolled his eyes at the interior, and then watched as the laird stalked a path before a table laden with stacks of leather-bound parchment. A candle burnt to its last hour perched on the corner of the writing table along with a quill. Jamie passed in front of it, blocking Hugh's speculative gaze, turning his attention elsewhere as he awaited his fate.

  It struck him then, out of all the perfection McBruiey Keep sported, its laird's clothing was the only thing disheveled in its entirety. The wrinkle in his clothing went right along with the wrinkle in his attitude and the creases under the man's eyes. Possibly from a lack of sleep for a good number of d
ays.

  Hugh swallowed tightly, then groaned inwardly. This was all the lass's fault, though he would surely bear the blame. And he had the distinct feeling this would not be the last of her hindering him.

  Hugh glanced up at the moment of impact, the moment Jamie's fist met with his jaw, and his head reeled back. Hugh staggered backward, and a hazy moment passed him before he was able to right himself. It was his error that his mind had wandered. He lifted his hand to cradle his throbbing jaw. He gave his head a fierce shake, blinking to return his vision.

  The natural instinct to strike back welled up, but Hugh forced it down. "Och, I deserved that," he said.

  "Aye. Aye, you did." Jamie stalked back and forth like a prowling wolf, or a mother bear, his eyes never leaving Hugh. It was clear the man wished to have an all out brawl with him.

  What held Laird McBruiey back Hugh was not sure, but he surely welcomed it. The man looked as dangerous as any he had ever seen.

  "What happened between you and my sister?" Jamie asked.

  Hugh grunted before he could stop himself, glad they were jumping to the meat of the issue. "Your sister? You do ken she's no the most pleasant woman."

  Jamie's thick, dark brows drew together, and he scowled at Hugh. "I'll no have you disparaging my sister. Yet, what I will have is an answer, McCross. What happened?"

  "Naught," Hugh said thickly. "'Twas a mistake on my part, but your sister could have told me who she really was before it was too late. Och!" He threw his hands in the air. "She could have told me before we left the abbey in Atholl for that matter."

  "Too late?" Jamie took a menacing step forward with a meaty fist clutched, ready to swing.

  Hugh held up a hand to ward off the other man. "Nay, naught untoward happened."

  Jamie seemed to relax at hearing that. "What were you there for in the first place? When I learned that my sister had been stolen away, they told me a mercenary working for a Laird McAlison had taken her. Is that true?"

  Hugh bobbed his head from side to side. "Aye, and at the same time—" he shook his head, "no exactly. I am a mercenary no longer."

  Jamie flicked an anxious finger around the chamber before sternly planting his hands on his hips. "What does my sister have to do with this Laird McAlison?"

  Hugh's brows rose as he spoke. "Naught," he said. "As I told you, 'twas an error. A matter of mistaken identity in which Catriona played weel on to keep me from taking her friend to the lass's father—Laird McLaren."

  Jamie frowned deeply. "I do'na understand. Why would Catriona do such a thing?" He gripped his hips and began to pace again.

  In truth, Hugh didn’t know if anyone knew why that errant lass did anything she did, but to avoid another blow, he erred on the side of better judgment and did not point that out. "'Tis a long and sordid tale. Tamsin McLaren was to be the bride of McAlison's son, until her brother killed her betrothed. A feud ensued, and McAlison demanded retribution."

  "The lass?" Jamie asked with incredulity.

  "Nay. Her brother, the one who murdered McAlison's son."

  Jamie made a sound of understanding. "And you? How does a mon who is'na a mercenary any longer find himself wielding his blade in another mon's battle?"

  "A debt owed."

  Jamie grunted. "And this other lass, what was her purpose if McAlison's business was with her brother?"

  Hugh paused. Why was it that each and every time he had to tell what it was he was doing taking innocent Tamsin McLaren away from the abbey, he felt more like an ass? He cleared his throat. "McAlison already had the younger McLaren lad. 'Twasn't enough. He thought he could use Tamsin to force her father to surrender his lands and keep."

  Jamie's eyes flashed to Hugh's, his head falling in disbelief, cocking to the side in astonishment. "And this lass, Tamsin, she is my sister's friend, aye?"

  "Aye. Catriona said they were as sisters."

  "Umhmm." Jamie lifted a hand to run his fingers along the sides of his mouth as he slowly nodded. And then he struck Hugh again, this time much harder. "What kind a mon are you?" he thundered. "I've no heard these lengths of dishonor before!"

  Hugh bit back a wince at the powerful blow and bent over with his head hanging to his knees, his hands braced against his thighs for support. His jaw ached as though a boulder had tumbled down a hill into his face. He righted himself and pulled his composure together, shaking off the reeling in his head as he stretched his jaw open wide.

  "I deserved that, too," Hugh grumbled.

  "Does anyone ken the truth, that Catriona was the one who traveled with you?" Jamie asked.

  Hugh paused, a spark of hope piercing his heart and then dropping like a stone to the pit of his stomach. "McLaren kenned she was'na his daughter. I doubt verra much he kens who Catriona is though, for her time in his presence was quite short and his view of her was at a fair distance."

  Jamie nodded at first, but his nod quickly turned into a shake. "I do'na ken what took you so long to travel from Atholl to McLaren Keep." He gave a low laugh laced with bitterness. "When my men informed me of what happened…" He paused, his eyes growing bright with fury. "I sent men looking for her in secret, under disguise for I could'na have certain people learning of her disappearance. That would have only made matters worse on her, you ken. My men traveled the only two reasonable routes between the abbey and McLaren lands twice before visiting McAlison and then returning to me. And they found no a trace of you or Catriona. If I am to believe nothing unseemly happened, what, pray tell, took you a month's time?"

  "I stopped for a time and stayed with a distant cousin, Gabhran McBray. I fell sick whilst there." He found no reason to tell him a viper set on revenge had indeed poisoned him.

  "I ken of the McBray clan," Jamie said. "Aren't they embroiled in a feud?" He sniffed and gave Hugh a scornful look. "Could'na help yourself from pitching in with that one, too?"

  Hugh returned Jamie's scorn with a look of his own, one heavy with warning for the other man to back off. He was only willing to take so much, but he relented and decided to explain further in order to ease the young laird's suspicions.

  "'Twas no my reason for stopping. In truth, I did'na relish what I had been asked to do by McAlison. I considered turning back. My stay with Gabhran lengthened unexpectedly when several poisonings occurred in his keep, to include their laird, and I, too, was poisoned when I lent my men to the McBray cause."

  Jamie frowned at him and shook his head. "You're no much liked, are you?"

  Hugh grunted and waved all that aside.

  "'Tis little wonder." Jamie scowled. "Where did you have Catriona kept whilst you stayed with your kin?"

  "In our camp. I thought it best for her to stay there, guarded, as vile attempts were already afoot when we arrived."

  Jamie looked hopeful for a moment. "So, there is a possibility none ken Catriona was taken from the abbey? For all they ken, 'twas truly Tamsin?"

  Hugh thought about it for a moment and shrugged. "Aside from Laird McLaren and my own men, I suppose so."

  Jamie's mood lifted, and he began to pace, running a hand over the shadow of light brown stubble on his jaw. Hugh watched him, wondering if Laird McBruiey might grant him one small boon—that he might actually be allowed to leave Catriona as he had told her he hoped to.

  Jamie's thoughtful expression turned Hugh pensive as he waited to learn his fate.

  "Linger here a few days, McCross. Surely, in all this time…" He trailed off, not finishing, then waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind." He stopped his pacing and narrowed his eyes on Hugh. "Perhaps all is no lost."

  Now Hugh narrowed his eyes, wondering what exactly could rely so heavily on Catriona, a lass presumably worth little as a bride, as she was only the laird's half-sibling and could claim no legitimacy. Still, his mood shifted, and he offered McBruiey a curt nod.

  "We shall stay on only long enough to replenish ourselves and our horses before returning home."

  "Do that, but I warn you now, stay away from my sister." Jamie too
k a menacing step forward. "Or else I shall hunt you down and my vengeance shall be swift, McCross."

  Chapter Five

  "You lucky bastard. You escaped the matrimonial noose by the skin of your teeth, did you no?" Alaric laughed heartily at his ribbing of Hugh and poured them both another ale.

  Together they sat in Hugh's warm tent, their large party having erected camp shortly after Hugh learned his blessed fate. His spirits should be high. However his most recent escape had been all too narrow to deserve any gloating. His luck was too dubious to be believed.

  "Dia, thank you for smiling down on me this once." Hugh took a hearty swig of ale and nearly choked, the gulp sticking in his throat when he glanced up to see the McBruiey's tall, large frame filling the gap in the tent.

  Jamie regarded Hugh with a mix of humor and displeasure. "You’d no be disparaging my sister with that remark, would you?"

  "Never," Alaric said, too swiftly. He recovered with a swig from his alehorn and started to rise, but Hugh caught him at the chest and pushed him back to the stack of furs he had been sitting on.

  "Come, let us share this fine drink," Hugh said, already pouring ale into another horn and rising to offer the drink to the other laird. When Jamie took the horn, Hugh motioned toward a stool and sat back where he had been. "What brings you oot of your warm keep to grace us with your presence?" Hugh asked.

  Jamie snorted as he eased onto the stool. "To ask why you vacated my warm keep for this cold tent?" He curiously looked around the sparse number of belongings in Hugh's temporary quarters, but by the time his eyes returned to Hugh, Jamie's brow had furrowed in speculation. "You'd no be planning to leave in any hurry, would you?"

  Hugh glowered. Only as soon as was possible. Yet he had promised to stay on for a few days more, even though he had not been told why staying would be necessary. "I gave you my word. However, my stay is but temporary, and the large number of men I travel with yearn for home."

  Jamie seemed pleased to hear that and drank from the horn he had been handed. "Why do'na you come stay in the keep, McCross? I surely can no accommodate all your men, but you and your commanders are welcome. Surely a bed in my keep would be more comfortable than here." He glanced around them again, his eyes lit on the stacked furs serving as Hugh's bed.