The Bride

by Julie Garwood

  His abrupt nod pleased her. She handed the baby back to his father, then started toward Gavin and Marcus. “You’re the most ungrateful man I’ve ever met,” she muttered.

  “Ungrateful?”

  He was back to bellowing. Jamie whirled around, her hands on her hips, and gave the warrior a look meant to burn. “Aye, ungrateful,” she shouted back. “You should be expressing your appreciation, McPherson, not shouting at me.”

  The laird’s eyes turned to slits again. Jamie knew his pride was somehow injured, but she didn’t have the faintest idea why. “I’ll have your apology for taking my son out of my home,” the man bellowed. “It’s war we’re speaking of if I don’t get what I want.”

  “What you need is a good kick in your backside, you old goat,” Jamie shouted back. “And that’s what you’re going to get if you don’t show some respect around me.”

  “You took my bairn.”

  She couldn’t believe the man’s stupidity. His horse was just as obnoxious as his master was, too. As soon as the old man let up on the reins, the animal tried to take a bite out of Jamie’s shoulder. McPherson didn’t seem to want to control his mount any more than he did his temper.

  “You’ll apologize,” he roared.

  Jamie slapped his horse away before answering that challenge. “How dare you ask for my apology? I didn’t take your son away and you know it. You can sit there until you rot, but you aren’t getting an apology from me.”

  The baby started to wail, disrupting Jamie’s concentration. “Oh, take your son home to his mama,” she ordered. “And don’t you dare come back on Kincaid land until you’ve learned some manners.”

  The chieftain looked as if he was itching to strike her. He deliberately let up on his reins, just to be contrary. The horse immediately tried to get a taste of Jamie’s shoulder again. She hit the horse, harder.

  McPherson let out a roar in reaction. “She hit me horse,” he shouted. “You seen it, men. The Kincaid woman hit me horse. ’Tis one thing to insult a man’s wife, but to strike his horse—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Jamie interrupted. “Leave now or I’ll hit you.”

  When the soldier on the left of the laird reached for his sword, Jamie pulled her dagger from the sheath in her belt. She turned to the soldier, took aim, and said, “You’ll take your hand away from your weapon or you’ll find my dagger in your throat before you draw your next breath. And when I cause an injury,” she challenged, “I don’t repair it.”

  The soldier hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then did as she commanded. Jamie nodded. “Now get off my land,” she ordered as she replaced her dagger.

  She was suddenly exhausted. She hadn’t lost her temper this thoroughly in a good long while. She was a little ashamed of her behavior, too, and was immensely thankful only Gavin and Marcus were there to witness her unleashed temper.

  It was all McPherson’s fault, of course. The man probably lived in a cave. He certainly had the manners of a wild animal. He could provoke a saint into screaming.

  Retreat seemed the logical choice now. Jamie turned around, her intent to walk back inside the castle without sparing a single glance over her shoulder. She was going to dismiss the McPhersons as rudely as possible.

  She came to a staggering halt when she saw the line of Kincaid soldiers behind her. All were armed and ready for battle. While Jamie noticed this fact quickly enough, that wasn’t what really started her head to pounding. No, it was Alec Kincaid standing in the center of his soldiers who captured her full attention and gave her such a headache.

  Well, hell, he’d probably seen the whole thing.

  Jamie was mortified. She suddenly wished she could just turn around and walk back to England.

  She really wasn’t certain who was the bigger threat now. The look on Alec’s face could scare the wool off sheep. Laird McPherson looked like a saint in comparison.

  Alec’s arms were folded across his chest. His legs were braced apart—a bad sign, that—and his expression was as rigid as the rest of him. It was the same position she’d seen the day the outcasts attacked. She’d thought he looked bored then.

  She knew better now.

  He was still the safer bet, she decided. If he was going to kill her, he’d probably do it in privacy, she supposed with a sinking flutter in her stomach. She wasn’t important enough in his mind to make a scene over. Nay, he probably wouldn’t get around to it until next week.

  He didn’t say a word to her when she walked over to his side. He simply pushed her behind his back and then took a step forward. The wall of men immediately surrounded her.

  The shield of warriors blocked her view, even when she stood on tiptoe and tried to see over Marcus’s shoulder.

  Angry words flew like arrows between the two mighty chieftains. Jamie was stunned when she realized Alec was actually defending her. He’d taken deep offense over the fact that one of the McPhersons had dared to touch his sword in Lady Kincaid’s presence. Oh, Alec was furious, all right. Bloody furious.

  He had a blazing temper, and Jamie was racing through a prayer of thanksgiving to her Maker that it wasn’t directed at her.

  Then she heard the hateful word “war” bellowed again. McPherson called for a battle and Alec couldn’t have been more emphatic in his agreement.

  Good God, what had she done?

  Alec was never going to believe this wasn’t all her fault. If she’d held on to her temper, perhaps she could have averted this war.

  The soldiers didn’t move away from her until the McPhersons were well on their way down the path. Jamie decided it would be best for her to leave before her husband turned his attention to her. She certainly wasn’t running away, she told herself. No, she just needed a little time to sort this confusing matter out. With any luck, it might only take her a day or two.

  She turned her back on Marcus and started up the stairs. Just when she thought she’d escaped Alec’s notice, he grabbed hold of her arm. He wasn’t at all gentle when he forced her around to face him. Since Marcus and Gavin were watching, she decided to smile. Alec’s scowl, however, changed her inclination.

  “Would you care to explain?” he asked. His voice was as mild as a lion’s yawn.

  “Nay,” Jamie answered. “I would rather not.”

  He didn’t like her answer. The muscle in his jaw was at it again, flexing like an insistent tic. The grip on her arm intensified until the freckles turned pink.

  She was determined to meet his glare so he would know she wasn’t afraid of the mean look in his eyes, but she didn’t even last through the first real blink.

  “The babe was sick,” she told him.

  “And?”

  “I took care of him.”

  “How did a McPherson bairn get here?”

  “I was wondering that very thing,” she said.

  “Answer me.”

  He hadn’t raised his voice, yet Jamie knew he was furious. She decided to appease him without actually giving him a direct answer. “Alec, I was simply trying to do the right thing. Even if I’d known that dear child belonged to such a sour old man, I still would have taken care of him. The babe was suffering so. Would you have me turn my back on him?”

  “I would have you answer my question,” he reminded her.

  “You’ll blame Mary.”

  “Mary was involved in this?” Alec demanded. He shook his head, then said, “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Mary brought the baby to me. McPherson’s wife gave her son to Mary, begging for my help.”

  Alec finally let go of her arm. Jamie resisted the urge to rub the sting away. “Now you’re bent on being angry with Mary for interfering, aren’t you, Alec?”

  He didn’t bother to answer her. Gavin gave her a sympathetic look, then asked Alec, “Did Daniel know about this?”

  “He couldn’t have,” Alec answered. “He was hunting with me. If he went directly home, he’s probably finding out now. God willing, he’ll keep her under lock and key.�
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  “Mary has a good heart,” Jamie interjected. “Surely Daniel won’t be angry with her for helping a sick child.”

  “You may go back inside now,” Alec announced, ignoring her defense of her sister.

  His cold attitude upset her. God only knew she should be used to his contrary ways by now. He’d been away from home for four long days and nights, but she certainly hadn’t missed him.

  “I’m not ready to go back inside,” Jamie returned, startling Gavin and Marcus. Alec didn’t look surprised, though. He looked resigned. “I have a question to ask you first.”

  Alec let out a sigh of impatience. “Marcus, send some men to follow the McPhersons to the border,” he ordered before giving Jamie his attention again. “Well? What is this question?”

  “I was wondering if your hunt went well.”

  “It did.”

  “Then you found the men who hurt Angus?”

  “Aye.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Did you have to kill anyone?”

  He thought that had to be the most ridiculous question ever put to him. She whispered it and then gave Gavin a worried glance. Alec didn’t know what to make of his wife. She looked irritated with him. The woman was simply too illogical to bother with.

  But very appealing. He’d only been away four short days and nights, but it seemed much, much longer to him now. That admission made his mood black. She was still dressed in her English garb—he’d noticed that sin right away—and he was beginning to realize she was just as stubborn as he was. Mayhap even more so. “Six, seven,” he announced in a hard voice. “Would you like to know how I killed them?”

  She took a step back, forgetting she was standing on the stairs. Alec grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling. “I assume, then, that you don’t want to know?”

  She shrugged his hands away. “No, I don’t want to know how you killed them, you impossible man, but I do want the true number. Was it six or seven?”

  “How in God’s name would I know?” he asked, clearly exasperated. “I was in the thick of battle, Jamie. I didn’t take time to count.”

  “Well, you should have,” Jamie muttered. “In future, I would ask you do keep count. It’s the least you could do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I only have eight shillings left, that’s why.”

  He didn’t know what she was talking about. That didn’t surprise him, though; he never knew what she was talking about. The color had left her face, reminding him of how much she disliked battles. He guessed she didn’t want him killing anyone. That was such an amusing thought that he couldn’t help but smile. Hell, he’d probably killed twice that number. The fight had been fierce. He wasn’t about to share that information with Jamie, though.

  “You’re smiling, Alec. Does that mean you were jesting with me?”

  “I was,” he lied, thinking to ease her frown away.

  She gave him a look that suggested she didn’t believe him. Then she picked up her skirts and hurried back inside.

  “Alec,” Gavin said, “what did she think would happen when you caught up with our enemies?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  Gavin held his grin. “By the way,” he said, turning the topic, “Franklin rode ahead to say the clan’s on their way home from Gillebrid’s holding. They should be here by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Some of Harold’s clan is tagging along. They mean to pay their respects.”

  “The hell they do,” Alec barked. “They mean to look at my wife.”

  “Yes,” Gavin replied with a chuckle. “Her beauty is already becoming legend. There’s also the fact that she saved Angus. Anyone with an ache or a pain will be camping on our doorstep.”

  “How is Angus doing?”

  “Docile now.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He wanted to get back to his duties. Your wife caught him just as he was leaving his cottage. Elizabeth had gone to enlist her aid.” Gavin let out a rich laugh before continuing. “I could hear Angus shouting all the way to the castle doors. When I got there—”

  “He raised his voice to Jamie?”

  “He had good reason,” Gavin explained when he saw how angry Alec was getting. “She’d taken his sword away from him.”

  Alec raised an eyebrow in reaction to that statement. “He did have reason, then,” he admitted with a grin. “What happened next?”

  “She never raised her voice to him, but she had him back in bed in minutes.”

  Alec started toward the stables, his hands clasped behind his back. Gavin walked at his side. “I don’t trust any of Harold’s men, especially his bastard sons,” he said, turning the topic back to their coming visitors.

  “The twins?”

  “Justin will be a problem,” Alec stated. “He’s used to taking what he wants.”

  “You think he’d actually go after another man’s wife?”

  “He would. The man’s fathered more bastard children than England’s king.”

  “With his handsome looks, the women do fall at his feet. It’s odd that Philip, though identical in appearance, is so opposite in nature. He’s too timid to try anything.”

  “I don’t trust Philip, either,” Alec muttered.

  Gavin smiled. “You speak like a man who cares for his wife, Alec.”

  “She’s my property,” Alec countered. “No one’s going to insult her but me.”

  “She isn’t having an easy time of it,” Gavin remarked. “The task you gave her has helped, of course, but Edith is making it difficult still. She countermands every order Jamie gives. Annie isn’t much better. She won’t even speak to Jamie.”

  Alec didn’t answer that remark, for he’d just noticed Jamie rushing down the steps. “Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted.

  “To visit the blacksmith,” Jamie called back. She turned the corner and was soon out of sight.

  Alec shook his head. “The daft woman’s gone in the wrong direction.”

  Gavin chuckled. “Alec, she begs me to give her more duties. I can’t let her do the heavy work, moving the stones, but I want to give her something—”

  “What are you talking about?” Alec asked. “Moving what stones?”

  Gavin gave his laird a puzzled look. “The kitchens,” he reminded him.

  When Alec continued to frown, Gavin explained, “You did give her permission to move the kitchens, didn’t you?”

  Alec shrugged. “I might have,” he admitted. “In a weak moment. Still, it couldn’t take her more than an hour to rearrange whatever in God’s name she wants rearranged.”

  “Rearrange?” Gavin repeated in astonishment. God help him, he started laughing.

  “What the hell’s so amusing, Gavin?” Alec demanded. “Did my wife tell you—”

  “Nay, she’s doing exactly what you gave her permission to do,” Gavin said, nearly choking. “You’ll see soon enough, Alec. It might be a pleasant surprise,” he added hastily when Alec seemed about to lose his patience. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it.”

  Father Murdock came rushing toward his laird, drawing his full attention. The priest’s black cassock was flapping in the wind. “Alec? If it’s convenient, I’d like to have a word with you.”

  Both Alec and Gavin immediately tried to get downwind of the priest. The foul odor radiating from the man made their eyes water. Out of respect, Alec didn’t mention his fragrant condition. Gavin, however, wasn’t as diplomatic. “Good God, Father Murdock, what have you done to yourself? You smell like pig swill.”

  The priest wasn’t insulted. He laughed and nodded his head. “I do smell foul, my boy, but I’m feeling better than I have in years. Jamie gave me a special paste to put on my chest. She mixed me another potion, too. My cough is near to gone now.”

  He took a step forward. Alec stood his ground, but Gavin took a hasty step back. “Now, then, enough about my health and on to my important question,” he said, address
ing Alec with his gaze. “Your wife has given me all her shillings,” he stated as he opened his hands to show the coins. “She wished to buy indulgences. I didn’t have the heart to tell her we don’t use coins here.”

  Alec shook his head. “She worries overmuch about her soul. ’Tis an English inclination if I’m not mistaken.”

  The priest grinned. “Her soul doesn’t concern her at all, Alec.”

  “Then why?”

  “It’s your soul that has her worried.”

  Gavin covered his laughter with a loud cough. “I count seven shillings,” he told Alec.

  “Eight,” Father Murdock corrected. “One, she said, just as a precaution against a faulty memory. I didn’t understand what she meant by that remark.”

  “The woman’s daft.”

  “She’s caring,” Father Murdock argued. “Now tell me what to do with these coins.”

  “Put them in the box atop the mantel,” Alec suggested with a shrug.

  “As you wish,” the priest agreed. “Now, while we’re on the topic of your dear little wife, I was wondering if you’d give her permission to use one of the empty rooms above the stairs. She asked me to put the question to you, Alec.”

  “I see no harm in granting this request,” Alec answered. “What does she want the room for?”

  “Her bedroom.”

  “Like hell.”

  “Now, son, no need to get lathered up,” Father Murdock soothed. He could see his laird’s mood was spoiling as fast as fish left out in the sun too long. He blurted out his next question. “May she go riding on the hillside—staying on Kincaid land, of course? It will give her something to do. I can tell she misses you something fierce when you’re away.”

  The last comment softened Alec’s expression. “Of course she misses me,” he boasted. “All right, Father Murdock. Tell her she may ride if she has an escort.”

  “You can’t be thinking she’d run away, Alec? She misses her home, but I—”