Highland Conquest

by Alyson McLayne

  “’Tis naught. Doona worry.”

  “Of course I’ll worry. How could I have lost control like that?”

  “The same way I did. Verily, Lachlan, ’tis so much better being stroked by someone else.”

  His eyes darted up to hers, concerned. “Someone else? This isna the first time…?”

  She snorted as she lowered her legs, which were pulled up to her hips. She tried straightening her shift using one hand, then just pulled up the quilt instead. “I meant someone other than me.”

  He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, his mouth warm, and another shudder ran though her. “Is that what you meant by watching?”

  She stilled, a whole new scene between them playing out in her mind. “Maybe. It hadn’t occurred to me.”

  The banging sounded again at her door, quieter this time, and when Ian yelled for her, it was quieter too. “Amber, if you’re in there, open up now.”

  Suddenly a wave of worry washed over her. She didn’t want to flaunt her wantonness like this for Ian to see. And what if he was in trouble? “Go out the back door and meet him at the front, pretend like you’ve just come back,” she said. “I’ll pretend like I’m sleeping and didn’t hear him.”

  “He tried the back door too.”

  “I’ll say the door sticks sometimes. He’ll believe it.”

  “Aye,” he rose from the bed, and her gaze fell to the front of his plaid, where it jutted out lewdly.

  “And you’ll have to do something about that,” she said.

  He shifted his sporran so it sat directly on top. “’Tis all I can do—unless you’ll take me in hand?”

  An awkwardness rose, and she shook her head jerkily. “I doona, I doona…”

  “You doona what, Amber?”

  How could she say that as much as she wanted him to stroke her body, the idea of stroking that part of him in such a way made her very uncomfortable, which made no sense, as she enjoyed a man’s shape, especially Lachlan’s, and medically speaking, she’d seen and touched several cocks. But…the actual act of tupping had been fraught with danger for her for so long.

  “I’m sorry. I canna. At least, not now. And I doona commit to anything, Lachlan.”

  He stared down at her, a hard glint in his eye. But he wasn’t angry, so most likely ’twas the glint of determination. “I’ll accept that…for now.”

  He turned, and a wave of panic washed over her. “Please, doona tell anyone. Even your foster brothers and Gregor when they arrive.”

  ’Twas obviously the wrong thing to say. He glowered at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I would ne’er speak about you in such a way. What’s between us is only between us. Unless you tell Isla, of course.”

  A guilty blush stole up her cheeks, and he planted his hands on his hips. “What did you say to her?”

  “Naught. Just that I…wanted to. She willna believe we’ve engaged so carnally, though.”

  “And why not? I’ve been at your cottage for three days. Alone with you all last night and today.”

  “I’ll just tell her you would ne’er touch me in such a way when I was injured. She’ll believe it. The entire clan wouldnae doubt your honor.”

  Now he looked guilty. She wanted to laugh, but she knew he took his honor seriously and would be offended. At least his plaid was no longer so distracting.

  He cursed and walked out the back door.

  * * *

  Lachlan quietly closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, trying to get his careening emotions under control. The sight, sounds, taste, and smell of Amber finding her release in his arms filled every inch of him. ’Twas a moment he’d ne’er forget. A moment he’d cherish forever.

  Even if she gave him naught else, he had that.

  But she would give him more, and often. She was a confusing mix of boldness and fear. He’d have to tempt her to him, convince her to give to him rather than take from her in any way. He would have Amber beneath him, on top of him, and any other position she wanted before the end of summer.

  He pushed away from the door with a sigh and walked around the side of the cottage, stopping by the rain barrel to rinse his hands and face. He still had men hidden in the trees and shrubbery watching the cottage, and while he didn’t think Murray would attack here again, especially not so soon, he wouldn’t take chances on Amber’s life again.

  A shudder ran through him as the image of her pinned to the door, two more arrows in the wood around her head, burst into his mind. The sight would never leave him, waking him every night drenched in sweat, his heart racing.

  When he rounded the corner, he came to an abrupt halt. ’Twas not just Ian standing at Amber’s front door, looking worried, Niall was there too, as well as ten other clan members, men and women. And many more were in the field streaming this way—several young men running to catch up.

  What was going on? Had Niall cooked this up? Surely it wasn’t an angry mob come to drag Amber from her sickbed for being alone with him? Or worse yet, for being a witch—the other nightmare he’d had.

  “Laird MacKay!” Ian yelled, running toward him.

  The group at the door looked at him, and he strode forward to get between Amber and the rest of the clan.

  “I’ve been knocking for Amber, but she ne’er answered,” Ian said when he caught up to Lachlan.

  “She’s sleeping,” he said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “Or she was. Mary left a pain draught for her. Did you try the back door? It was open.”

  “I did, and it was locked.”

  “Nay, I just checked it. The door sticks sometimes.” He reached the group and pinned Niall with his stare. “What’s going on?”

  “Naught to concern you, Laird. We just want to have a wee talk with Amber.”

  He raised his brow, arms crossing his chest. “A wee talk? You’ve gathered at least thirty people. And of course I’m concerned. I’m her laird.” His gaze swept the growing crowd and out to the field where more people were coming. He could also see Callum riding toward the cottage on his horse.

  “Aye, all are MacPhersons who love Amber and want to see the best for her.”

  So this wasn’t an angry mob, but one of Niall’s schemes. He could ask the steward, but he doubted he’d get a straight answer. Maybe Callum would know.

  “She’s not well, Niall. You know that. She can barely sit up. How do you expect her to come out to greet you?”

  “I doona, we’ll go in.”

  “All thirty of you in her cottage? When she’s been pierced with an arrow and barely survived? Has barely survived the last five years?”

  “Which is why we’ll go in. We should have made sure she was safe long ago.”

  Unease trickled up his spine. Had Niall arranged protection for Amber?

  The old man banged on her door. “Amber, lass, we need to see you.”

  “And how do you think she’ll—”

  He heard the bar slide across just before the door opened, and Ian stood there. The wee troublemaker had gone around. Lachlan was about to block the entrance and exert his will as their laird, when Callum caught his attention at the back of the growing crowd. His foster brother sat atop his horse and motioned him over with a jerk of his head.

  He hesitated, knowing Callum would not counsel him to get out of the way unless he had good reason. Finally, he stepped aside, giving Niall a stern look. “Doona rile her. She’s tired enough as it is.” He was besieged with guilt at how he’d touched her earlier—an invalid. Aye, if she wasn’t tired before, she would be now for sure.

  “You’re not the only one who cares for the lass, Laird MacKay.”

  As he made his way toward Callum, he couldn’t help but notice how many young, eager men were in the crowd. Mostly MacPhersons, but a few of his men and Callum’s too.

  “What’s going on?” he asked w
hen he reached his foster brother’s side. He looked back to see people crowding into the cottage and the shutters being pushed open from the inside.

  “Niall intends to see Amber married—for her own protection.”

  He whipped his head around. “What? We have to stop him!”

  “Nay, Lachlan, wait.” Callum dismounted from his horse and grabbed his arm. “Trust me, ’tis for the best.”

  Anger mixed with panic pounded at his temples, and he jerked his arm from Callum’s hold. “’Tis not for the best, and you would not be so accommodating if it were Maggie in there.”

  “I would be if I thought she might choose me.”

  Confusion creased his brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “You said the other night that she had to claim you. Well, I didn’t think ’twas a good idea earlier, when I heard Niall rousing everyone up about her safety and the need to see her wed—and neither did everyone else. In fact, some are wagering Amber will hand Niall his puny, wrinkled arse, as Tavis put it—but now…well…maybe she will claim you when she has no other choice. Come on.” Callum led Lachlan around the cottage. “We want a good vantage point.”

  “For what?” Lachlan couldn’t stop his voice from rising, his hands from fisting. “Is he planning to take a priest in there? Marry her on her sickbed? Tell me now, Callum, or I swear your nose will end up in the back of your head.”

  His foster brother stopped to tie his horse. “Niall’s a crafty old bugger. He intends to trot the eligible men out in front of Amber and make her pick a groom. And my guess is that he’s thinking she’ll pick you. ’Tis what you want, aye? Deep down?”

  Lachlan’s eyes widened, and that panic he’d felt earlier for Amber turned inward. “Me? But she knows I doona want to marry.”

  “Aye. So you’ve said. But that was before you met Amber. Now you have to decide whether ’tis worse to stand out here and let Amber choose someone else, or to step inside, knowing she might choose you.”

  * * *

  Amber’s mouth dropped open as it looked like half her clan streamed into her cottage. She still lay on her back, and she struggled to push herself upward, but it hurt too much, so she flopped back down with a groan. The excitement and energy she’d felt from Lachlan’s earlier attentions had drained from her body.

  Isla rushed to her side. “Here, let me help you.” She lifted Amber, propped pillows behind her, and straightened her shift and quilt so she was covered. Then Isla smoothed back her hair.

  “What’s happening?” Amber asked.

  Before Isla could answer, Niall came over and said, “Are you sure your herbs are working, Amber? You’re flushed yet wan at the same time. You doona look well.”

  “Most astute, Niall. Verily, I doona feel well. Maybe ’tis because I’ve been stalked by a madman who put an arrow through my chest and is still out there, wanting to do it again. Then I had surgery without any pain draught. Now you’re all in here, taking over my home, when I just want to sleep.”

  The clan had hushed to listen to her, and many of them nodded gravely. Others grinned widely at her tone. And was that goods she saw exchanging hands? Lachlan and Callum stepped into the back doorway, but when she tried to catch Lachlan’s eye, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and looked down. His body language was a mess, his chest puffed up belligerently, yet at the same time, he’d dropped his head. She couldn’t read the look on his face.

  Callum stood beside him with one brow raised.

  “You can sleep as soon as everything is settled,” Niall said.

  “After what’s settled?”

  “You, of course. Amber, you canna stay here alone anymore. ’Tis too dangerous. And even if you move into the castle, it causes too many disruptions. You must choose.”

  “Have you lost your mind, Niall? What am I supposed to be choosing?”

  “A husband.”

  Deafening silence fell, all eyes trained on her, and Amber stared around in shock. They’d force her to marry? And all these people—young and old, male and female—felt that she was a disruption? These people whom she’d helped for so long, for whom she’d put her life at risk, blamed her for the acts of idiotic men?

  She looked at Lachlan, his eyes still downcast, his jaw a hard line with a muscle beating in it. She looked at Callum, who caught her eye and jerked his head toward Lachlan.

  What did that mean? He wanted her to choose Lachlan?

  “You’ve all gone ’round the bend,” she said. “Your brains are addled.”

  Some of the folks nodded in agreement. So not everyone thought as Niall did. But it looked like most of them did.

  “Nay,” Niall said. “As your clan and protectors, we feel you need a strong man to keep you safe from intruders. You could be hurt by someone else next time. Your cottage is too isolated, and now everyone knows about your tunnel. If you’re attacked again, you’ll have no escape.”

  “And my Robbie willna choose another lass until you’re spoken for, Amber,” Finola said. “’Tis not fair to the mothers or the other lasses.”

  Brow lifted and eyes wide in shock, she looked at the faces of the other women in the clan. She’d ne’er before sensed any dissatisfaction in them, especially directed toward her. “Isla,” she asked her friend, “is this true?”

  Isla’s shoulders drooped. “I was one of the lucky ones, Amber. My Alban has loved me since we were twelve years old. But ’tis not so for the other lasses. Even though you doona encourage it, the lads all hope you’ll look their way. I know ’twas too dangerous to choose when Murray was our laird, but now you should consider taking that step.”

  Isla also caught Amber’s gaze and jerked her head toward Lachlan. She looked over. His eyes were fixed on a point out the window, his nostrils flaring as if he was breathing deeply to steady himself.

  Unlike Callum, Isla didn’t know that Lachlan ne’er intended to marry, and she rolled her eyes.

  “If it helps, I will have a terrible scar on my face from when Murray tried to kill me. Surely that will dissuade the whole lot of you.” ’Twas a lie, the wound would heal cleanly with little scarring, but she was mad enough to exaggerate right now.

  One of the young lads from Callum’s clan stepped forward. She couldn’t even remember his name. “’Tis a badge of honor, lass. The imperfection only serves to highlight your beauty. I love you more than life itself.”

  Lachlan made a derisive sound in the back of his throat just as she yelled, “Love isn’t about beauty! It’s about being with someone for forty years and finding they can still make you laugh. Having someone whom you’d die for because their happiness comes before your own, who understands what you’re saying without having to say anything at all. Being in love is about giving everything and not worrying about getting anything back because you’ve already got it.”

  Her gaze fell on Lachlan again, and it jolted her to see him staring at her this time—an odd expression on his face. But then he dropped his eyes. Shuffled his feet.

  She scowled and peered around the room until she found her tormentor. “You want me to choose? All right. I choose you, Niall.”

  “You canna. Only eligible lads are allowed. Everyone one else must step out.” He waved his arms. “If you stand within Amber’s cottage, that means you are willing to take her as wife.”

  People shifted around, the hopeful men moving to the front while everyone else hovered at the window and the door. All except Lachlan, who still stood on the doorsill. She noticed Callum had taken a wee step back.

  Eighteen men, not including Lachlan, stood before her. Eighteen men she didn’t love, some she barely knew. The youngest was just seventeen years old. She’d saved his life four years ago, when he’d fallen into the river and nearly drowned. He was still a young, sweet lad, not a man she would take to her bed. None of them were.

  Her eyes fell again on Lachlan, still
undecided on the doorsill, still fascinated with something out the window.

  “You canna do this,” she said to Niall, tears of betrayal pricking her eyes. After everything she’d done for these people.

  “Aye, I can.”

  “And if I doona choose?”

  “We shall put it to a vote.”

  “You’ll choose for me?”

  “Nay. We’ll ask you to leave the clan. We canna be responsible for you any longer Amber. ’Tis too painful.”

  A tear fell even though she heard a murmur of dissent in the crowd. She dashed it away angrily. “I shall ne’er forgive you, Niall.”

  “I am an old man. I shall die satisfied knowing you are safe and married.”

  “But not happy?”

  “The two needn’t be exclusive, Amber.”

  Several clan members nodded, men and women who’d been friends with her grandmother and her father. They felt this way too?

  “My father would rip you to shreds for doing this. And my grandmother, she would make you rue the day you thought up this plan.”

  “I think she’d understand,” Niall said.

  “She’d ne’er understand. You treat me like cattle. Why doona you bring a halter for my neck and lead me to pasture? Or better yet, lead me to whate’er stud you’ve chosen for me.”

  She looked at Lachlan, who watched her now. “Are you in or out?”

  He stepped farther into the room and cleared his throat. “This has gone far enough. Amber you doona have to—”

  “Nay, the clan wants me to choose. I’ll choose, but I’ll set a few rules first. If the groom dies, I doona have to marry again. No matter how soon after the wedding, even if it’s just hours or minutes after, maybe even during the first wedding toast.”

  She let that sink in and saw a few eyes dart furtively to her cupboard full of herbs, many of which, given at the wrong dose, would kill someone instantly. Two mothers rushed forward and nabbed their sons, dragging them out of the cottage.

  “And I willna sleep with my new husband until after he makes me laugh. And I canna be laughing at him, it must be a happy laugh because he’s said something amusing. I willna have dreary bairns.”