Highland Warrior

by Connie Mason

  “Verra well, MacKay, lead the way,” Ross said, gesturing toward the chapel.

  A black-clad, rotund priest with tonsured hair, his arms crossed over his barrel chest, greeted them at the doorway. “You must leave your weapons at the door if you wish to enter the house of God.”

  At first Ross was reluctant, but when MacKay unbuckled his belt and let his sword fall, he did the same. Nevertheless, he waited until his enemy had entered the chapel before he followed.

  Satisfied, the priest shuffled off, disappearing behind the altar. MacKay led the way to the tiny sacristy, where two benches, a small table, and a pitcher of ale awaited them.

  Ross perched on the edge of the bench while MacKay poured ale into two mugs. He held one out to Ross. Ross accepted it but didn’t drink until MacKay sampled it first. Only then did he take a generous swallow. MacKay sat down opposite Ross and inhaled deeply.

  Ross glanced about him. “It seems you’ve laid the groundwork for this meeting, MacKay Now tell me why I am here. What could two blood enemies have to say to each other?”

  “We could pledge peace,” MacKay ventured. “We have the power to stop the feud so that our children and our children’s children willna die for our ancestors’s ins.”

  Ross nearly dropped his mug. “You want to end the feud? Why should I believe you?”

  The hint of sadness that dimmed MacKay’s eyes intrigued Ross. “I had five braw sons, MacKenna, and now I have three. And I came near to losing my only daughter. I doona want to lose another bairn. Are you so bloodthirsty that you would see all my bairns fall beneath a MacKenna’s sword?”

  Ross shook his head. He was of the same opinion as MacKay. “I lost my father, a beloved brother, a cousin, and countless kinsmen. Still, I canna believe you want to end the feud. What assurances do I have that you willna take up the sword against me when I least expect it?”

  “What I am about to propose will demonstrate my good faith.”

  Ross leaned forward. “What exactly are you proposing?”

  “I want to unite our clans, and the union must be one that our allies will honor.”

  “Unite our clans?” Ross narrowed his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Naught but a marriage can bring our clans together and end the feud.”

  Ross drank deeply from his mug and wiped away the remaining foam on his sleeve. “I have no sister, nor any cousin of an age to wed one of your sons.”

  MacKay banged down his mug. “Are you dense, man? I’m offering my wee lass Gillian to you.”

  “Wee lass? That sword-wielding, flame-haired hellion who challenged me on the battlefield? Nay, thank you. I’d sooner wed a wildcat.”

  “Aye, Gillian can be a handful, but I believe a berserker can tame a hellion. It must be you. No one else will do.”

  “Do you have another kinswoman you can offer?” Ross asked hopefully.

  “None but my lass Gillian can unite our clans.”

  “Does she agree to this mad scheme of yours?”

  “I am her father; she will do as I say.”

  Ross laughed. “Your daughter hates me. She demonstrated that on the battlefield. Besides, canna believe you are giving up on Ravenscraig. Our clans have fought over those lands for generations.”

  “Your first son with Gillian will settle both our claims to the land. My grandson—your son—will inherit Ravenscraig Tower. Now do you ken why Gillian must wed you and not another MacKay?”

  Though Ross understood, he was not convinced. He recalled Gillian’s gem-green gaze piercing him. He had felt her hatred; his skin still burned with it. She would have hacked him to pieces had she the skill or strength to do so, and then she would have spit on his dead body

  “I ken that all your hopes of a MacKay owning Ravenscraig rest on Gillian giving me an heir.” Ross chortled. “If I am any judge of women, doubt she will let me bed her without a fight.” And what a fight that would be!

  MacKay cocked a shaggy eyebrow. “I wager you are up to the challenge.”

  Ross thought long and hard about the proposition MacKay had laid on the table. Like MacKay, he had long wanted to end the feuding. He cringed at the thought of his future children dying at the end of a MacKay sword. But marrying that flame-haired wildcat would bring him more grief than any man wanted. Still, the logic of MacKay’s proposal appealed to him.

  MacKay must have realized Ross was giving his idea careful thought, for he plunged on. “The wedding should take place soon. Friday is a propitious day for weddings, so shall we say Friday next? We will invite our allies and hold the ceremony and reception at Braeburn. But first you must promise to respect my lass and treat her well.”

  Ross’s icy gaze pierced MacKay. “I doona hurt women. I could have killed your lass on the battlefield with one stroke of my claymore had I wanted to.” His words held the ring of truth. “I will agree to your plan only if the wedding is held here at St. Tears Chapel and the reception at Ravenscraig. Have your lass at the chapel before the bell tolls sext.”

  MacKay considered Ross’s words a long time before nodding. “Verra well, but I intend to be present the next morning when you hang out the bloody sheet. A consummation must take place on your wedding night; there will be no grounds for annulment of the marriage.”

  “I agree, with one exception. If your daughter leaves me of her own free will at any time after we are wed, she willna be allowed to return to Ravenscraig, and the feud will resume.”

  “You strike a hard bargain, MacKenna.”

  MacKay offered his hand to seal the deal. Ross hesitated a moment, but in the end the promise of peace won out, and he grasped MacKay’s hand.

  Braebum Castle

  Gillian waited anxiously for her father and brothers to return from their mysterious errand. Angus Sinclair, chieftain of Clan Sinclair, had arrived shortly after Tearlach had left, and Gillian hoped he had come to finalize plans for their betrothal. He sat with her now, drinking ale, his eyes bright with admiration.

  “When do you expect Tearlach to return?” Angus asked.

  “He didna say, but he took no provisions, so I expect he will show up before the evening meal.”

  Angus leaned toward her and grasped her hand. “I think you ken why I am here, lass.”

  “I hope ’tis to finalize our betrothal,” Gillian replied, smiling at the handsome Sinclair chieftain. “What took you so long, Angus?”

  Angus squeezed her hand. “I am here now, so what does it matter? Your question is a bold one, but I like a bold lass, especially in my bed. Will you give me a kiss, lass?”

  Gillian glanced around, saw that no one was about in the hall, and offered her cheek. But Angus would have none of that. He rose, grasped Gillian’s shoulders, and pulled her up against him. Then his lips seized hers, forcing her mouth open and ruthlessly ravaging it with his tongue.

  Gillian’s first kiss wasn’t exactly what she had dreamed it would be. She had assumed Angus’s lips would touch hers sweetly, lingeringly But the reality was something far removed from what she had expected. Angus’s kiss was more like a frontal attack by the enemy than a lover’s caress. The longer he kissed her, the more she found to dislike about it. His taste wasn’t all that pleasing, and his hard lips and teeth were hurting her. She supposed she could get used to it, however.

  When his hands slid around to cup her breasts, Gillian pulled away from him, a frown marring her smooth brow. She touched her bruised lips. “Angus, what are you doing?”

  “You liked that, lass, did you nae? I ken you did by the way you responded. After we are wed, I will teach you all the ways to please me in bed.”

  Gillian tried to imagine such a thing but could not. When she pictured her marriage bed, she saw in it a wild Viking with bulging muscles. She shook her head to clear it of traitorous thoughts and smiled at Angus.

  Angus returned her smile with a stern look and gave her a hard shake. “I heard about your foolishness on the battlefield, lass. Once we are wed you will not pretend yo
u are anything but a docile wife. No more training with weapons; no more riding like a wild woman over the moors. You will learn your place if I have to pound it into you.

  “Do you ken, Gillian? You will obey me in all things. I am sure your father will thank me for taking you off his hands. You have become too difficult for him to handle. I, on the other hand, am prepared to deal harshly with you.”

  Gillian thought Angus didn’t mean half of what he said. All men wanted to be masterful, and Angus was no different. She was sure she could bring him to heel once they were wed. She placed a finger over his lips.

  “Hush, Angus, and kiss me again. I know we will deal well with each other.”

  Placated, Angus pulled Gillian into his arms and ravished her mouth once more.

  “Take your hands off my daughter!” a voice roared from behind them.

  Gillian gasped and pushed Angus away. She smoothed her skirts down nervously as her father and three brothers entered the hall. Her father glared at her before turning his heated gaze on Angus. “What are you doing here, Sinclair, besides manhandling my lass?”

  “Is that any way to greet your future son-in-law?” Angus gloated. “I’ve come to finalize my betrothal to Gillian and sign the marriage contracts.”

  “You are too late,” Tearlach growled. “Gillian is to wed another on Friday next.”

  “I am to wed someone other than Angus in less than a sennight?” Gillian gasped. “Why would you promise me to another when I have known for years that I would wed Angus Sinclair?”

  “No papers have been signed, and Angus didna come forward in a timely manner to finalize the betrothal.”

  Gillian marched up to her father, thrusting her nose into his face. “Just who am I to wed, Da?”

  Tearlach cleared his throat and looked to his sons for support. Murdoc, the eldest, stepped forward. “Da made a deal with the MacKenna.”

  Gillian fell back as if struck. “You want me to wed Ross MacKenna?”

  Tearlach’s stubborn chin, so like his daughter’s, shot defiantly upward. “I willna lose another son or my only lass as long as ’tis within my power to stop the feuding. ”Tis time for the feud to end. The only way to do that is to unite our clans.”

  “So I am to be the sacrificial lamb,” Gillian spat. She searched her brothers’ faces, each in turn. “Did you all agree to Da’s mad scheme?”

  Angus Sinclair chose that moment to toss in his opinion. “You canna do this, MacKay. The feud has been going on too long; too many lives have been lost to call it quits now. Our clans are allies. The Sinclairs have fought side by side with you against the MacKennas and their allies and lost as many lives as the MacKays. Why would you give in now?”

  “For the reasons you just outlined. We canna afford any more deaths, and the MacKenna agrees. Do you intend to fight to the last man, Sinclair?”

  Sinclair rolled his shoulders back. “If need be.”

  “I am laird of Clan MacKay and overlord of Clan Sinclair. If I say there will be no more feuding, then so be it.”

  “Gillian is mine,” Angus snarled. “You canna take her from me now.”

  Sinclair’s hand flew to his sword hilt. Immediately all three of Gillian’s brothers drew their swords. Angus’s hand dropped helplessly to his side.

  “I doona ken why you want peace when we have always fought for what is rightfully ours,” Angus said sullenly.

  “I agree!” Gillian shouted. “No one asked me whether I wish to wed the MacKenna. I am your daughter and a MacKay. How can your conscience allow you to hand me over to a blood enemy? I am less than naught compared to your beloved sons.”

  Suddenly Tearlach looked older than his forty-five years. “I love you well, daughter. When I saw you on the battlefield challenging the MacKenna, my heart nearly failed me. ”Tis because I doona wish to lose another bairn that I sought an end to the feud.”

  “I canna believe the MacKenna agreed to wed me after what happened on the battlefield,” Gillian argued. “How do you know he willna beat me, or treat me like the enemy I am? Is that what you want for me, Da?”

  “The MacKenna gave his word. He said he doesna hurt women, and I believe him.”

  “Fool!” Sinclair snarled. “You are all fools. Just remember, Gillian, lass, if ever you need help, send word to me and I will come for you.”

  So saying, he stormed off. Gillian watched him leave with mixed feelings. After Angus’s speech about how he expected her to behave, she wasn’t as keen to wed him as she had been before his visit. But the thought of marrying the MacKenna laird sent a shiver of dread down her spine. Residing in the enemy camp would make her life a living hell. She had been taught to hate MacKennas from the time she was a wee lass. They had killed her brothers; how could she marry one? How could her father expect her to wed the enemy?

  Gillian started when Tearlach placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Doona fret, lass. wouldna give you to the MacKenna if I thought the man would hurt you.”

  “What makes you think you can believe the laird of a clan you’ve been feuding with your entire life? You said yourself the MacKenna is a berserker.” Her firm little chin tilted upward. “You can make me wed him, but you canna make me stay with him.”

  Murdoc stepped in front of his father. “If you doona stay with the MacKenna after you are wed, Gillian, the feud will resume and you canna return to Ravenscraig. Those were MacKenna’s terms.”

  “MacKenna’s terms? Bah! Why are you so eager to side with Da? I canna believe it of you.”

  “I hope to wed Mary MacDonald, and doona wish my sons to die in a feud that was none of their doing.”

  Nab spoke up next. “We fight because it is expected of us, but each of us wants to end the feud for our own reasons. Ramsey and I want to go to Edinburgh, to experience life at court before we settle down to wed. You are the only one who can end the killing.”

  “You are all mad!” Gillian snarled. “Where is your courage, your fighting spirit? Why must I be made to pay for your happiness?”

  “ ’Tis not about happiness; ‘tis about saving MacKay lives: Tearlach explained. ”Stop and think about it, lass. Your bairn with MacKenna, my grandson, will become laird of Ravenscraig. Isna that what we have always wanted? To regain Ravenscraig for our family? You are the only one who can do that for us without resorting to bloodshed. ’Tis the perfect solution, Gillian.”

  “For everyone else,” Gillian groused. “You are not the one who has to lie with the Viking, bear his child, and suffer his abuse.”

  “There will be no abuse; he gave his word. I swear, if he abuses you, you can return home and the feud will continue.”

  “Do you mean it, Da?”

  “Aye, daughter, I wouldna want you hurt. But for the good of our clan, I beg you to give the MacKenna no reason to abuse you. Make your peace with him and mayhap you will find happiness.”

  “The only way I will find happiness is if you let me wed Angus.”

  “Angus had all the time in the world to finalize the betrothal. He didna want you badly enough, lass.”

  “Not true!” Gillian cried, though she suspected her father was right. “I willna marry the MacKenna! I willna!”

  Turning on her heel, she stormed off. But she found no peace, not even in her own chamber. She kept picturing the dark-haired, blue-eyed devil her father wanted her to wed. He exuded power, from his broad shoulders and thick warrior muscles to the brawny body that could have belonged to some long-ago Viking.

  Gillian recalled the fire in his eyes when she had challenged him. His fierce gaze would inspire fear in lesser men. But Gillian did not fear the MacKenna. She loathed him.

  Despite her violent protest, her raging anger, Gillian realized her entire clan would suffer if she did not wed the MacKenna. Gillian had known for a long time that Clan MacKay was being decimated by constant feuding. Now she’d been told that only she could save her father and brothers from falling beneath MacKenna swords.

  It wasn’t fair. Why were women ex
pected to mindlessly obey, as if they had no opinions of their own, no feelings? If she had to wed Ross MacKenna, she was going to make sure she wasn’t the only one made to suffer.

  Ravenscraig Tower

  “You heard what I said, Gordo: I am going to wed the MacKay lass.”

  “Aye, I heard, but I doona believe you. Isna she the lass who flew at you with her sword?”

  “The verra same.”

  “I doona ken why MacKay would offer his lass to you.”

  “MacKay has lost two sons, Uncle, and we, too, have lost loved ones. He wants the feud to end in order to save his surviving bairns. I canna blame him. He offered his daughter as a means of uniting our clans.”

  “Wheesh, lad! Seana is going to throw a fit. She had her heart set on marrying you.”

  Ross stiffened. “Seana knew I had no intention of making her my wife. Forget her. I am to wed Friday next, and on that day the feud between the MacKays and the MacKennas will officially end. Will you notify our allies and invite them to the wedding? I want every clan chieftain to witness the marriage, and to be aware that as their overlord, I will tolerate no breaking of the peace.”

  “Aye, Ross, I will see to it, though it doesna give us much time to prepare. You had best speak to Cook and ask Donald to organize the servants. You should do the wedding up right; ’tisna every day that the laird of Clan MacKenna takes a wife.”

  “Aye, Gordo, we will make my wedding a celebration of magnificent proportions.”

  “Who is getting married?” Seana asked as she sauntered over to the two men.

  “Ross. Congratulate him, Seana,” Gordo said. “He is marrying the MacKay’s daughter.”

  Seana tilted up her head and laughed raucously. “Stop jesting, Gordo. Ross would never wed the daughter of his enemy.”

  “ ’Tis true, Seana,” Ross confirmed. “MacKay offered his daughter to me as a means to unite the clans and end the feuding, and I accepted.”

  “You accepted? Where does that leave me? I have given you two years of my life.”