The One Knight Collection (Medieval Sensual Romance)

by Samantha Holt

  She remembered Niall from a brief time of peace some five summers ago. He was several years older than her and as proud as they come. She had been impressed with his strong build and sandy hair until she had discovered he was a Sinclair. Anna could not forget years of war as easily as her father could.

  Her father grinned, crossing his large arms across his chest, mimicking her stance. “Aye, ye need a strong man and Niall Sinclair is such a man. He’ll take good care o’ ye.”

  Anna shook her head in disgust. Betrayed by her own father! “Ack, I need no taking care of!” Recognising her father’s determination - one that easily matched her own - she changed tactics, pasting a serene look on her face. “Da, surely ye cannae want me to become some meek Sinclair wife? Will ye not miss yer daughter that looks after yer so?”

  “Ah, I have no fear o’ ye becoming meek, girl, but ye are right, I’ll miss yer.”

  Anna smiled tentatively, feeling the hope light in her eyes.

  “So ye’ll have to make sure to return home regularly. If ye can bear to part from ye new husband, that is.”

  Throwing her hands up in frustration, she stepped away from her father. “Bear to part? He’ll be lucky if he survives the wedding night!”

  Her father gave her a secretive grin. “We’ll see, lassie, we’ll see.”

  “Ack, there’s no talking to ye.” Anna spun on her heels and stormed up the stone steps towards her chambers.

  “Put on something fine fer yer betrothed, Anna!” Her father called up to her.

  ***

  The Sinclair clan arrived that eve, seeming as smug and as arrogant as ever. She watched their approach from her window, trying to see if she could get a look at Niall before he saw her. He had shown little interest in her upon their first and only meeting, and she expected him to be no different now. Aye, she was attractive enough with curly dark hair and big brown eyes but Sinclairs cared for naught but themselves.

  A fair-haired man caught her eye and her heart jolted. God’s blood, was that him? If she had thought him impressive before, then he was astounding now. He had become even more of a man in the passing years, with wide shoulders and strong, solid looking arms. Just looking at him made her pulse race. His hair curled erratically, windswept from the journey and his face was burnished by the sun. Anna couldn’t see his eyes or lips properly but she imagined they would be just a perfect as the rest of him.

  Curse the man. Why could he not be vile? She’d have no problem retaining her indifference then. The womenfolk did little to hide their admiration for him as the men gathered in the bailey but if Niall noticed it, he paid little heed. Likely he was used to it, thought Anna snidely.

  Her father stepped out to greet them and Anna realised that she should join him. As much as she hated to dance on attendance to a Sinclair, she didn’t want to risk her father’s wrath. As soft-hearted as he was when it came to his daughter, he’d not let himself be shown up by her and he was known for his temper.

  Smoothing down her plaid and adjusting her broach, Anna pulled herself tall and perfected a look of disinterest. Ha, let’s see if she couldn’t knock a dent in Niall Sinclair’s pride!

  ***

  Niall considered the stone keep with a practised eye. Well defended and ready for war at any time, he concluded. In spite of the promised peace between the two clans, Niall could feel the tension that clouded the air. He looked up at the four storey stone giant once more. Somewhere behind those thick walls was the woman he was to marry.

  Laird Mackenzie strode confidently across the drawbridge that led from the bailey into the keep. Mackenzie was a dark haired bear of a man and a vicious warrior at that. Niall was grateful that the only thing his daughter had inherited from him was her dark looks. It had been some years since he had seen Lady Anna but he remembered her as a pretty young thing. Hopefully she had not declined too much with the passing of time.

  Mackenzie greeted his father genially but Niall didn’t miss the look of distrust that flickered in both men’s eyes. His father was equally well built but shared Niall’s fair hair and the contrast between the two men was not lost on him.

  For too long, the clans had battled, neither one ever gaining; only paying for their losses in blood. Now it was on his shoulders to settle their differences. He had expected an arranged marriage but never to a Mackenzie lass. For all her prettiness, she would be as self-righteous as the rest of them. It was said that Anna Mackenzie was the true leader of the Mackenzie clan, for her father buckled to her every whim. Niall looked forward to showing her that he would bow down to no woman. Let’s see if he could not shatter some of that misplaced pride.

  Laird Mackenzie turned to Niall and greeted him with an unexpected twinkle in his eye. What did the man know that he did not? He was aware that this union still hung by a thread so he would have to tread carefully.

  “Laird Sinclair! ‘Tis an honour to welcome ye to my home. My daughter shall be along shortly. She is just makin’ sure she’s fit to see ye. Anna is as overjoyed as I at the thought of a union between our two great clans.”

  “Thank ye, my laird. I look forward to seeing yer daughter again. ‘Tis said no finer beauty can be found in all o’ Scotland.”

  Mackenzie’s grin widened with amusement and Niall decided that the rumours he had heard could not be true. It was likely the years had not been kind and mayhap the rumours were spread by the lady herself. Ack, he hoped he could bear to look upon her.

  “Aye, she’s a fine lassie is my Anna, but ye’ll have yer hands full, I promise ye that.”

  Niall smirked inwardly, he could handle a mere lass. Even an ugly one at that.

  But as the words swam through his mind, his eyes were drawn to a proud looking lass who was hurrying across the drawbridge. Holding herself tall, her shapely figure was barely disguised beneath her red plaid. Her wide, dark eyes locked onto his and he was sure that he felt his heart in his throat. Her hair was a riot of dark curls, barely tamed into a thin braid around her head as the rest of them tumbled down her back. Her skin begged to be touched and his hand reached out. Realising his idiocy, Niall clenched his hand into a fist and watched as she scurried down the stone steps and into the courtyard.

  When she reached the last step, her plaid caught and she spilt forwards. Niall rushed towards her and grabbed at her before she fell. His hands came around her waist and he almost groaned aloud as he felt the heat of her skin through the thin material of her tunic. As he helped her upright, he kept his hands upon her, determined to prolong the contact for as long as he could. She looked up at him sheepishly, a rosy tinge to her cheeks, and smiled.

  Ack, but his mind was addled by such a look. While Niall grinned foolishly back, her dark eyes seemed to snap into a cold reserve and she pulled herself from him, straightening her plaid.

  “Thank ye, my laird,” she said coolly.

  “My pleasure,” he replied, trying to school his face into a look that no woman had ever been able to deny.

  It had little effect on the lass and he scowled as she brushed past him to stand at Mackenzie’s side. It took a while for his mind to decide to function again but as she settled herself next to the laird it dawned on Niall…

  “May I introduce my fair daughter, Lady Anna Mackenzie.”

  Niall gulped before falling back in line with his father. Remembering himself, he bowed his head to her. “My lady.”

  “My laird.” She dipped carefully to him, her movements coy and elegant, but he could not fail to notice the fire that simmered behind her eyes.

  God’s blood, the rumours had been true. And now Anna already had an advantage over him because he seemed to have little effect upon her. His jaw clenched. Niall would not have a lass make a fool of him, beauty or no. Niall met her gaze with a disdainful one of his own and he was relieved to see a flicker of hesitation beneath her cold mask.

  Laird Mackenzie interrupted their mute exchange with a cough. “My lairds, shall we adjourn to my solar to discuss the betrothal? Yer men
can take advantage o’ our hospitality. Lady Anna shall see they donnae go without.”

  Niall caught the look of disgust that Anna shot at his clansmen and his gut tightened. Aye, he would have to show Anna the error of her ways. And he would take great delight in doing so.

  ***

  It was several hours before the three lairds joined the clansmen in the hall. Anna was already exhausted from entertaining the Sinclair and Mackenzie men. It had been tense initially, the men crowding into the Great Hall and sitting along the long tables on opposite sides of the room, but once the wine and ale flowed freely, it seemed that all hatred had dissipated.

  Anna snorted. The folly of men. With a touch of wine, all sins were forgotten. But she would not forget. Nay, her ancestors would be horrified at such a sight. She may have to marry a Sinclair but she would always remain a Mackenzie and never would she bow to the will of a Sinclair laird.

  Even if he was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes upon.

  Sweet Mary, she would never forget the feel of his hands upon her. She had been surprised by his reaction to her. There had been an odd look in his eyes and she wondered if she had been wrong about him, but it was quickly replaced with the arrogance that she had expected.

  The three men assembled themselves upon the raised dais and her father motioned for her to join them. Her stomach sank. So it was done.

  “Kinsmen!” her father bellowed over the raucous shouts of the inebriated. “Tonight we celebrate not only the joining o’ two young people, but the joining o’ two great clans. I’ll challenge ye to show me a greater power in Scotland now that the Sinclairs and the Mackenzies will be joined by the union o’ Laird Niall Sinclair and Lady Anna Mackenzie!”

  A rowdy chorus of approval rumbled through the hall, shaking the candelabras that hung from the rafters. Anna attempted to keep her expression neutral but her apprehension must have revealed itself as Niall snaked his hand over hers, linking his rough fingers with her smooth ones. She fought the temptation to yank her hand away, aware that everyone’s eyes were upon them, and risked a glance at him.

  Niall nodded carefully at her, as if trying to explain that he understood her trepidation, and she frowned, completely thrown by this caring gesture. He noticed her scowl and his pale eyes hardened. He kept hold of her hand but, instead of continuing to hold her softly, he gripped it tightly, reminding her of his possession of her.

  When the cheers of the men had finally died down, they sat for the feast. Niall served her as if she was at court and she couldn’t resist a snide comment.

  “Such manners. I’d not have expected a Sinclair to know how to treat a lady.”

  He eyed her with a raised brow. “And I’d not have expected a Mackenzie lass to behave like a lady.”

  Anna jutted her chin out. “I’m surprised ye recognise a lady when ye see one. I’d hardly expect a man like ye to keep company with noble folk.”

  Niall chuckled and she stared at him in confusion, the sound thoroughly unexpected.

  “I’ve kept company with many fine ladies, lass. The vast majority o’ them seem to enjoy my company very much.”

  “In yer bed yer mean.”

  “Aye, that is where they enjoy my company most.” He leant in towards her, lowering his voice. “I’d wager ye’ll enjoy it there too, Anna.”

  Her eyes flew wide at his bold statement before she recovered. “Ha, enjoy being bedded by an arrogant Sinclair? I’ve heard ye’re all so poor in bed that ye wives can only stand ye once a month.”

  “And I’ve heard all ye Mackenzie lasses are about as warm in bed as a Scotsman’s ballocks in winter.”

  Anna could feel her cheeks flame and she turned with a huff. Wretched man. How was she going to stand a lifetime of being married to him? And there was an odd thought at the back of her mind, one that refused to go away. It told her that he was right. She would enjoy being bedded by him. Ack, not that she’d admit it. Niall thought Mackenzie lasses were cold? Well, that she could do. She decided that she would not utter another word to him this night - and forevermore if she could manage it.

  As the eve wore on, the merriments became increasingly rowdy and Anna sought shelter in one corner of the hall, tucking herself behind a pillar. Most of the other women enjoyed the atmosphere, flirting and drinking with glee. She could not though. There was something disturbing about Niall Sinclair. Her eyes kept drifting over to him. The arrogance had appeared to diminish throughout the evening and she watched as he talked with her father avidly. It wasn’t even his insults that disturbed her, for she knew that she had wanted to provoke a reaction out of him. An oddly longing sensation filled her as she watched him gesture wildly whilst a boyish expression came across his face. She wondered what they were discussing. Whatever it was, he was obviously enthusiastic about it. How she wished a man would talk to her like that. As an equal.

  He finally left her father’s side and joined with his own father. Anna held her breath as they came towards her and she tucked herself behind the pillar once more, fearful of the strange feelings that were overcoming her.

  “Well, son, what think ye to yer betrothed?” his father asked him. “Is she no’ a fine lookin’ lass?”

  “Aye, Father, indeed I had no’ expected such a beauty.”

  Anna tried to ignore the flutter of delight that resounded in her chest at his words but it lingered.

  Laird Sinclair slapped him on the back. “Aye, she’ll provide ye with some fine bairns.”

  “Ha, if she’ll even let me near her. This will be no love match, Father, I promise ye that. She’s callous and full o’ hatred.”

  Stunned, Anna wondered if that was true. Was she really full of hatred? Aye, she held no love for the Sinclairs but did it seem that she hated him. She disliked him, to be sure, but she didn’t realise that all he saw in her was hate. There was more to her than that. It upset her that he could not see it. But then she had done little to prove him otherwise…

  “Ack, who needs love when ye have a beauty like that in yer bed!”

  From where she was, she could just see Niall roll his eyes. “Beauty is well enough but there is little substance behind it. I’ve just secured myself an unfeeling wife who’ll do naught but mope about the keep. Donnae expect much of her, Father. I don’t.”

  ***

  Niall heard a gasp and caught a flash of red as it darted past. Anna turned long enough for him to see the sorrow in her big eyes. She fled upstairs, pushing past the drunken men with increasing frustration. God’s blood, he’d not meant for her to hear that. He was just trying to prevent his father from hoping for too much.

  And now he’d hurt the lass. As much as he enjoyed riling her, he did not mean to upset her. He had actually found he enjoyed her quick tongue, which was a pleasant change from the meek noble women he was used to.

  Niall shoved past the men to get to the stairs, intending to at least apologise and attempt to explain. The men refused to part and he pushed violently at them with a growl. Seeing Niall’s anger, the men stepped aside, allowing him to dash up the stairs after her. It suddenly seemed vitally important that she knew that he had not meant his words. His father had been so hopeful for their match and longed for a woman like his own mother to look after the Sinclair clan. He feared that Anna would never get past her hatred of the Sinclairs enough to do so.

  He should have realised she was there, he had been watching her for most of the night. She seemed weary and he was half tempted to take her upstairs and put her to bed. Thoughts of her, passionate and willing in his arms, had assailed him and Niall realised he couldn’t do that without trying to bed her. The woman had an uncanny hold over him already.

  His belief in her indifference and coldness had diminished throughout the eve too. He’d recognised her fear and was convinced that her reaction to him was one borne of that. No young woman wanted to be married to a stranger, let alone a man from a clan that she had been taught to hate. Niall watched her as she continued to see to their kinsman
, putting their needs before hers, and he realised that a dutiful heart lay beneath that cold exterior. She sparked his curiosity and he desperately wanted to see who the real Anna Mackenzie was.

  Niall searched the chambers but found no sign of her. Was she hiding? He could hardly picture her cowering under a bed somewhere. He continued until he reached the door to the ramparts. Mayhap she was up here. He often took to claiming solitude on the roof of his own keep when the demands of lairdship became too much. Mayhap they were more similar than he had realised.

  The door was ajar and he could just make out her outline, bathed by the cold glow of the moon. She sat hunched, her arms wrapped about her knees and her chin upon them, as if embracing herself. Niall pushed open the door, wincing as it creaked, and Anna turned with a start, drawing in a sharp breath.

  “Anna, forgive me,” he murmured as he pushed the door shut.

  “Nay, don’t-”

  “I must,” he said as the door closed with a clunk.

  Anna sighed. “Nay, ye fool. Donnae shut the door. It locks from inside to keep intruders out. Once the latch goes down, there’s no way o’ opening it from this side. Ack, ye stupid fool, now we’ll be stuck out here.”

  Niall stared at Anna and then at the door. He tilted his head and eyed the solid wood. “Ah, ye talkin’ to a Sinclair, lassie. I’ll have that door down in no time.”

  Squaring up to the door, he slammed his shoulder into it, biting back a howl of pain as his shoulder juddered with the impact.

  “Stop it!” Anna shouted as he attempted it again. She came suddenly to her feet and jumped in front of him. “Stop,” she said softly. “Ye’ll do yerself an injury. The watchmen will be up in the morning. We’ll just have to wait the night.”

  “Can we call for someone?”

  “Ye’ll have no luck getting anyone to hear ye from up here. They’re all too deep in their cups to hear.”

  Clutching his shoulder, he moved his arm and his joint screamed in protest. The pain must have been clear on his face as Anna tugged on his good arm and forced him to sit on the cold stone. She pressed her fingers into the joint and rubbed at it carefully. He watched her face, his pain completely forgotten.