To Wed A Wicked Highlander bboth-3

by Victoria Roberts

  She leaned in toward him and lowered her voice. “Ye cannae travel to Kintail.”

  “What do ye mean, I cannae travel to Kintail? Why? Will ye miss me, Ella? I know it has been a while since I joined ye in your bed.” He scanned her critically and beamed approval.

  Biting her lip, she looked away. “Please, Alex. I donna…feel safe with that man in the dungeon. Ye leave me alone and unprotected.”

  “Ye nay longer need to worry about him, lass.”

  A shadow of alarm touched her face. “What do ye mean?”

  “He’s dead.” She flinched and seemed to have trouble looking at him. “Listen to me. There is naught more to fear. I will try to return this eve, but I must ride to Kintail and speak with your father about the MacLeod.”

  She paled.

  * * *

  Alex continued to speak, but Sybella only half listened as she struggled with her conscience. She stirred uneasily in the chair, and the nagging feeling in the back of her mind refused to be stilled. She would have to guard her own actions as well as his. One wrong move and her father might make another attempt on her husband’s life. She had no choice. There was no time to falter. She needed to decide quickly where her loyalties lay.

  As she sat at the table, her nervousness slipped back to grip her. She tried desperately to force her emotions in order. No matter what her husband’s feelings or her own were toward the MacKenzies at the moment, she and Alex were as one—husband and wife. She only knew one thing for certain: she was determined to make her mother proud. And deep down Sybella couldn’t live with herself if she knew her mother wouldn’t approve of her actions.

  Nervously, Sybella moistened her dry lips. “Alex, when ye see Colin, would ye be so kind as to deliver a message for me?”

  “Of course.” He placed his elbow on the table and leaned in close. “And what message might that be?”

  Uncertainty made her voice harsh and demanding. “Could ye tell my brother that I will do as he asks?” She paused. “He asked me to make something for Anabel.”

  “Aye. Is everything all right? Ye seem…troubled.”

  “Nay worries, Husband.” Giving him a slow, secret smile, she understood exactly what she had to do.

  Sybella, Rosalia, and Aunt Iseabail walked the men to the bailey. Sybella watched in awe as Ciaran lifted his hand and caressed his wife’s cheek. He lowered his head and his lips pressed against Rosalia’s, tender and passionate. It was somewhat hard to believe that this was the same man who supposedly killed the Campbell laird. She mentally corrected herself: the bloody Campbell.

  Ciaran pulled away and tucked a piece of hair behind Rosalia’s ear. “Tha gaol agam ort.” I love you. He ruffled Lachlann’s hair. “I will return with much haste. And ye, my little lad, will see to your mother.” When he stepped away, he winked broadly at Rosalia.

  “Ella.”

  Sybella’s private musings were quickly interrupted. She surprised herself when she turned and embraced Alex without any hesitation. “Please be careful, Husband. And donna forget to tell Colin what I told ye.”

  Alex’s strong arms continued to hold her, and she briefly closed her eyes. She was hesitant to admit it, but his touch felt wonderful. Sybella breathed in his spicy scent and sighed. She couldn’t understand how she could feel comforted by the very man her kin wanted to destroy. This was the same man who had been a sworn enemy of the MacKenzies for so long. And from what she had seen, there was no justification whatsoever for that stance. Alex portrayed nothing but kindness and compassion, whereas her own kin…She was disgusted at the thought.

  Her family had woven so many words into their verbal web that Sybella wasn’t sure what was right or wrong anymore. She could only trust the one person she had always depended upon—herself.

  Sybella pulled away, and for a long moment, she simply looked back at her husband. She suddenly felt like the breathless girl at the waterfall. Her eyes portrayed what she already knew she felt in her heart. Praise the saints. She was falling in love with him. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the admission was dredged from a place beyond logic and reason. And the worst part was that she gave the man no reason to trust her. His own wife.

  She had to try to make amends.

  Alex wrapped his arms around Sybella’s waist. “I should return by this eve. I will try to make haste.” His voice lowered and his mouth curved into an unconscious smile. “And I will deliver your message to your brother.” He paused longer than necessary, and she wasn’t sure if he wanted her to say something. He looked around uncomfortably, and then his eyes met hers. “I will miss ye, Ella.”

  Before she could respond, she watched his broad back turn and he swung up onto his mount.

  “Aunt Iseabail, I leave it to ye to make sure my cousin and my wife donna get into mischief.”

  Aunt Iseabail waved Alex off. “Those two are the least of your worries. Ye should be worried about what trouble I get them into, Nephew.”

  He again met Sybella’s gaze, and a deep, unaccustomed pain formed in her breast. “Dia leat,” she said under her breath. God be with you.

  She had to find that bloody stone.

  Sybella quickly made her excuses to Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail. She opened the door to Alex’s chamber, thinking her husband’s room might be a good place to start. When a pang of guilt washed over her, she immediately pushed the feeling aside. In order to have a future, she reminded herself that she needed to correct the past.

  She walked over to the stone fireplace and lifted the portrait of Alexander’s father. A chill shot down her spine when she touched the painting. If a bolt of lightning had struck her where she stood, she wouldn’t have been surprised. She rubbed her fingers along the rough stone wall where everything felt solid, secure. Nothing shook in its place.

  She approached the giant bed with its tall corner posts and ran her fingers over the blankets. Every time she had been close with Alex had been in her own bed, and she wondered what it would be like to sleep—or not sleep—in his. He was a powerful laird. She couldn’t help but remember him as he touched her, satisfied her. She hungered from the memory of his mouth on hers. In spite of the task at hand, thoughts of him intruded.

  She shook her head, hurtled back to earth as reality struck.

  “Find the stone, Sybella,” she said out loud. She lowered herself to the floor and felt for an indentation or anything that moved under the bed. “Find the stone and put an end to this madness once and for all.”

  She stood and brushed off her skirts. “Of course this couldnae be an easy task,” she said, tapping her finger to her lip. “Where would ye keep something like that, Husband?”

  Sybella looked around the room but nothing stood out at her. She moved the table by the bed and even looked underneath. She opened Alex’s trunk and searched through his clothing. Absolutely nothing. If he wouldn’t keep the stone in his chamber, where would he keep it?

  She remembered Colin’s words.

  The library.

  Placing her ear to the bedchamber door, she first listened for anyone who might be in the hall. She stepped out and closed the door. With hastened steps, Sybella made her way to the library. Colin was probably right. A hollowed-out book was a great place to hide the stone.

  She made it to the library undetected and quickly closed the door. The last thing she wanted to be was disturbed. She approached the first shelf and picked up a book, fingering through the pages. It was just a book. She pulled out the next one and unfortunately had the same result. By the time Sybella had searched through some of the larger tomes, she realized she should have given up some time ago. The stone was obviously not in the library.

  Something clicked in her mind.

  Surely Alex wouldn’t hide the stone in the dungeon. The last place she wanted to be was there. She kept that revelation stored in the back of her mind. If she had no choice, she would be forced to check there—as a last resort, with all options exhausted. She cringed at the idea of returning to that
unsavory pit of hell.

  Sybella rubbed her brow. There was a lot of space to cover in this castle, and worse yet, she searched by herself. What if she couldn’t find the stone? She refused to think about that and hastily made her way to Alex’s study, his private domain.

  With its masculine touches, the room reminded her of him. The MacDonell crest hung on the wall behind a large wooden desk, and a shield with matching swords hung on the opposite wall. When she spotted another shelf lined with books, she held hope that maybe her luck hadn’t run out yet.

  She picked up the first book and flipped through the pages. She was so frustrated that she wanted to scream. All of the books were simply that. Books. She ran her fingers behind the MacDonell crest and didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. At this rate, her search was going to take forever. She walked to the opposite wall and ran her hand behind the shield and swords, hastily pulling back her finger when a sharp blade cut her.

  Damn! Sybella sat down in the chair behind the desk and looked for something to wrap her finger. Why were the smallest cuts always the worst? She placed her finger to her lips and rifled through Alex’s desk. What was this? She pulled out a flask and sniffed the contents. Her suspicion was correct. She briefly wondered if this was the infamous MacGregor ale that her husband had spoken about. There was only one way to find out.

  She brought the liquid to her lips and let the fiery concoction burn its way down her throat. Plagued with a coughing fit, she replaced the ale in the drawer. Let the men have their drink. Her stomach could barely tolerate it. She pressed both hands over her eyes as if they stung with weariness. Praise the saints. What if she had overlooked something where she’d already searched? Her task was quickly turning into a nightmare.

  Leaving Alexander’s study the way she had found it, Sybella walked out into the hall. Time was most definitely not on her side. It was almost time to sup, which meant Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail would be in the great hall. Sybella suddenly found the perfect opportunity to act like a thief in the night.

  Sybella reached Rosalia’s room and knocked on the door. When no one answered, she ducked inside. Seeing Lachlann’s little tunics made Sybella cringe. What kind of person had she become to resort to this? She was not this type of woman, and guilt slowly crept back to plague her.

  If she didn’t find the stone, Alexander would not be safe. Once she delivered the stone to her father, the man would have no choice but to call off his minions. She still found it hard to fathom that her sire had tried to kill her husband because she had yet to deliver the stone. With a steely resolve, she realized there was no question. She had to do this. Failure was not an option.

  Following the same ritual as in Alex’s chamber, Sybella searched under the bed, checking for anything that moved or was out of place. She moved the table, checked behind the tapestry, examined the stone fireplace. Not a damn thing. With frustration mounting, Sybella opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

  She jumped.

  “What are ye doing in my chambers, Lady MacDonell?”

  * * *

  “It seems nae long ago when I rode by your side to free my cousin,” said Alex.

  MacGregor rode up beside him. “I was thinking the same. Why do ye think these cowardly men target our women, MacDonell? The bastards have nay honor and donna fight like men. They hide behind the skirts of a lass and use our women as pawns.”

  “Things arenae as they once were. I wonder if His Majesty will eventually send his men into the Highlands. The MacKenzie seems to think that if the MacLeods arenae brought to heel, the king’s guard will travel to Lewis. I donna understand how there can be peace when clans such as the MacLeods of Lewis and the bloody Campbells are about.”

  “We are Highlanders. We administer justice the way we see fit. That is the way of it. And the MacLeod will be judged verra soon. The king cannae see fault with that.”

  “I hope ye’re right. I grow tired of men who would do anything only for the purpose of political gain.”

  MacGregor chuckled. “I donna think that will ever change. ’Tis verra much the way of it.”

  As Alex rode to Kintail, his mind kept turning to Sybella. The woman was everything he’d desired in a wife, except the MacKenzie part, of course. She was kind, especially to Aunt Iseabail. And the lass was definitely not afraid to put him in his place. He found her honesty refreshing. Even when the MacLeod’s man had tried to harm her again, the woman hadn’t cowered in the corner in tears.

  He was also particularly thankful that Sybella no longer counted sheep beneath him. In truth, he’d rather enjoyed their last couple of encounters. Who would’ve thought? He knew he had started to favor the lass, and perhaps his bonny wife was actually softening toward him as well.

  John reined in his mount beside Alex. “The last time we dealt with the MacKenzie, ye shackled yourself with a wife. I cannae help but wonder what ye will bring home with ye this time, my laird.”

  Alex glowered at his friend. “I like ye better when ye donna speak. I think ye forget your place. Mayhap I need to remind ye.”

  John laughed. “Aye, I would love to see ye join us in our swordplay. Howbeit it seems ye have been practicing your swordplay more with your bonny wife than your own men.”

  “Aunt Iseabail expects an heir.”

  “Aye, but ye donna fool me for one minute, Alex. I see the way ye look at the lass as of late.”

  “I looked at Doireann that way, too.”

  “My apologies. What did ye say? I couldnae hear through your complete load of hogwash.”

  Their conversation was quickly cut off as five MacKenzie men thundered toward them. When the men stopped, Alex recognized his wife’s brother.

  “MacDonell, what are ye doing here?” asked Colin.

  “I come to speak with your father.”

  Colin nodded. “Then come. I will escort ye and your men.”

  As the MacKenzie men escorted them to Kintail, Alex looked at the sight before him. With MacKenzies and MacDonells riding side by side, he realized that not long ago, swords would’ve been drawn and fights would’ve ensued. MacKenzie and MacDonell tartans would have been ripped to shreds, the men with even bigger scars of their own.

  When they reached the castle, Alex dismounted and handed his mount to the stable hand. With MacGregor and John by his side, Alex followed the MacKenzie’s son into the great hall. The space was somewhat larger than what he had expected. And although he was hesitant to admit it, the room was more extravagant than Glengarry. Fine woven tapestries, as well as painted portraits of past MacKenzie lairds, hung on the walls. A large stone fireplace took up the center wall, and the MacKenzie clan crest was imbedded in the middle. Alex slowed his pace and read the words carved from stone.

  Luceo non uro. I shine, not burn.

  If MacGregor was surprised by the MacKenzie’s apparent wealth, he didn’t say so, not that Alex thought he would. They continued into the MacKenzie’s study where the man looked up from behind his desk in surprise. The room was filled with dark furnishings, and two bookcases lined the stone walls. Two broadswords were mounted above one bookcase and a shield on the opposite side. When the MacKenzie turned his head and looked at MacGregor with further uncertainty, Alex spoke.

  “Laird Ciaran MacGregor of Glenorchy, my cousin’s husband.”

  The MacKenzie gestured the men to the chairs as Colin stood again by his father’s side. “Please sit. Ye are a long way from Glenorchy, are ye nae?”

  “My wife visits with her seanmhair.”

  “Ye are also the one who killed the hand of the king.”

  MacGregor’s eyes darkened. “It was naught that wasnae deserved.”

  The MacKenzie quickly turned his attention to Alex. “Laird MacDonell. And how fares my bonny daughter?”

  “Sybella is the reason for my visit.”

  The MacKenzie turned around and pulled ale from the shelf. “Can I offer ye and MacGregor a drink?”

  “Nay, we will return to Glengarry.”


  “Verra well.” The MacKenzie sat back casually in his chair. “I know my daughter is willful and rarely minds her tongue, but if ye give her time to adjust—”

  “The MacLeod tried to kill her. Twice,” Alex blurted out.

  The MacKenzie sat forward and folded his fingers on his desk. “What do ye mean?”

  Alex continued. “The first time was when we walked in the forest. An archer took aim at her head and barely missed. I had my most experienced tracker search the trail, and it was if the man had simply disappeared. The man was good and left nay trace. I confined Sybella within the walls of the castle and there were nay other attempts.”

  “But ye said there were two attempts,” said the MacKenzie.

  “Sybella and I stood upon the parapet, and the archer—”

  “God’s teeth!” The MacKenzie pounded his fists on the desk. “What are ye doing to protect my daughter? I placed her in your ca—”

  Alex interrupted the MacKenzie’s words vehemently. “We found the man.”

  The MacKenzie’s face clouded with uneasiness. “Ye did?”

  “Aye. He wore the MacLeod tartan but wouldnae speak.”

  “Where is he? Ye let me speak to him.”

  “He is dead,” Alex simply said. “I donna know all of what went on between ye and the MacLeod of Lewis, but now the man has attempted to kill my wife. I demand justice.”

  “What do ye propose?” asked the MacKenzie.

  “I will travel to Lewis with some of my men. I will either bring the MacLeod before King James to pay for his crimes or dispense my own Highland justice—sword against sword, man against man. I havenae yet decided. One way or the other, I will have the man’s head.”

  The MacKenzie nodded. “Give me three days to arrange your passage to Lewis. I will have a few of my own men at your disposal as well. After all, the man attempted to kill my own daughter. We shall place his head on a pike together.”

  Alex stood. “I will return within three days.”

  MacGregor and John stood, following Alex to the door. Damn. Alex had almost forgotten and turned in midstride.

  “Colin.”