Highland Warrior

by Connie Mason

  As if she didn’t already feel uncomfortable, Seana entered the hall moments behind them. The attention of Ross’s kinsmen sharpened as his leman sauntered up to the high table and chose a seat next to Ross. To Gillian’s relief, Gordo arrived next and sat on her left. At Ross’s signal, the servants began serving bowls of oats accompanied by bannocks and pitchers of ale.

  Gillian nibbled at the bannock; oats didn’t appeal to her and never had. She preferred to break her fast with eggs and a rasher of bacon.

  Suddenly Seana leaned forward and said loudly enough to be heard by all and sundry, “I expected to see bruises and scratches this morning, but it appears you both survived your wedding night. I confess I am surprised you didna kill each other.”

  Gordo chuckled. “The absence of bruises is a good sign, lass. Our clan is better for the joining.”

  “Time will tell, Gordo,” Seana replied. “I personally doona believe the truce will hold.”

  “Enough!” Ross growled. “Why are you still here, Seana? Why did you nae return home with the escort I offered to provide?”

  Seana stared adoringly up at Ross. “I thought it would be fun to stay and see what comes of your marriage.” She slanted Gillian a sly look. “Your bride doesna look pleased with you, Ross.” She leaned close. “Nor you with her. When you have need of a real woman, I will be waiting.”

  Gillian popped a piece of bannock into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, having heard Seana’s provocative words. “Stay if it pleases you, Seana. It matters not to me.” She turned to her husband, her expression bland. “What say you, MacKenna? Will you have need of Seana anytime soon?”

  Ross slammed down his spoon. “Stop making trouble, Seana. My marriage is none of your concern. You should have left Ravenscraig.”

  “Niall asked me to stay, and I decided to accommodate him,” she purred. “You aren’t the only attractive man at Ravenscraig.”

  Ross scowled at his former leman; Gillian wondered if he was jealous of Niall.

  “Do what you will, Seana,” Ross said sourly. “Be forewarned, however, that at the first sign of trouble, I will send you home.”

  “You shouldna let the lass stay, lad,” Gordo muttered. “Mark my words: Keeping a leman—even a former leman—and a wife under the same roof will cause trouble.”

  “Let Niall enjoy the lass, Gordo. I shall warn him to keep her away from Gillian.”

  Gillian had had about all she could take of this talking around her. “Seana doesna bother me, MacKenna. If you like,” she said for Ross’s ears only, “you may take her to your bed. I have no objections. ’Tis not as if I will be sharing your bed in the future.”

  “Find another place to eat,” Ross told Seana, ignoring Gillian’s pronouncement. “The high table is out of bounds to you. Gordo,” he said, turning to his uncle. “Round up some men. ’Tis time we went into the hills to drive cattle down to their winter pasture.”

  Given no other choice, Seana sputtered indignantly but rose nonetheless and stomped off to join Niall. Gordo left at the same time.

  “You didna have to send Seana away on my account, MacKenna,” Gillian said. “One night in your bed was enough for me. Seana may take my place with my blessing.”

  Ross glared at her. “Doubtless your father would renew the feud if he learned I was keeping a leman. I told you before, Gillian, but I will tell you again so you willna mistake my meaning: You are my wife, and I expect to come to your bed whenever I choose.”

  “Where will you be when you do not come to me?” Gillian challenged, though she had no idea why she cared. If Ross wasn’t in bed with her, then he wouldn’t be demanding his marital rights. Naught hurt her pride more than the knowledge that MacKenna could control her body so easily.

  “Where I will be is none of your concern,” Ross replied. “But know this—it willna be in Seana’s bed.”

  “Then whose—”

  “I’ll be gone most of the day,” Ross said, cutting off her sentence as he beckoned to a man sitting nearby. The man rose and advanced toward the high table. “Donald will show you around Ravenscraig and introduce you to the cook and servants. You might as well become acquainted with your duties as my wife.”

  “Who is Donald?”

  “A kinsman. He’s been running Ravenscraig since my mother’s death last year, but I’m sure he’ll welcome the chance to turn some of his duties over to you.”

  Gillian watched Donald approach. Somewhat older than Ross, he had the body of a seasoned warrior.

  “Donald,” Ross greeted him, “my wife would like a tour of the tower. Will you do the honors?”

  “Shouldna that be your duty, lad?” Donald asked.

  “My duty is driving the livestock down from the hills to their winter pasture.”

  So saying, he strode off without so much as a good-bye. Donald scowled at his departing back before turning his scowl on Gillian. “Are you ready to see your new home, lass?”

  “A moment, please,” Gillian replied. “There is something I wish to do first. Wait here for me.”

  Without further explanation, Gillian strode off and mounted the stairs to the gallery, where the stained sheet still flew from the railing. She wadded the offending linen into a ball, returned forthwith to the hall, and flung it into the blazing hearth. She watched it catch fire and burn before she rejoined Donald.

  “Now I am ready,” she said. “But I have no intention of taking over your duties. Apparently you have been doing a good job overseeing the everyday running of Ravenscraig.”

  “I’ve done what I had to do, but I willna be sorry to transfer some of the responsibility to your shoulders.”

  His coolness toward her did not escape Gillian. “You doona like me, do you?”

  “I like you as well as you like me. You are the laird’s wife. I will treat you with respect even though you are a MacKay. Come along, lass; we will start with the tower and work down, although I doubt you will wish to see the dungeons.”

  “Ravenscraig has dungeons?”

  “Oh, aye, but they havena been used since the early days. Ross keeps the only key to the lower levels.”

  Donald strode off. Gillian had to hurry to catch up with him. She spent the next two hours exploring her new home. The tower room was unoccupied, but some of the chambers on the floors below were occupied by Ross’s uncle, various kinsmen, and servants who worked and lived in the keep.

  All things taken into consideration, the keep was in good repair. As with all castles, the corridors were drafty and the corners were draped with cobwebs, but at the end of the tour Gillian was duly impressed. The last place Donald took her was to the kitchen, where he introduced her to the cook and left her.

  The tense silence that ensued prompted Gillian to say, “I doona intend to interfere with your cooking or menu. The kitchen is your domain, and so it shall remain. I know naught about cooking and menus.”

  Hanna visibly relaxed. “Did your mother not insist that you learn about such things?”

  “My mother died when I was born. My father left me to run free. My favorite activity was engaging in swordplay with my brothers.”

  “Oh, aye, I heard that you challenged our laird on the battlefield. That was foolish of you, lass. He could have slain you with a single blow.”

  Gillian bristled. “I was holding my own until my father interfered and called for a truce.”

  Hanna, a round woman with apple cheeks and rust-colored hair streaked with gray, chuckled. “If you say so, lass. Mayhap you should tell me if you have any favorite dishes so I can include them on the menu.”

  “If the wedding feast you prepared is an example of your skill, I vow I will like anything you cook.” She worried her bottom lip, wondering if she should mention her breakfast preference.

  “What is it, lass? Spit it out.”

  “I amna fond of porridge. I prefer to break my fast with eggs and a bit of meat, either bacon or ham. Would it be possible to—”

  Hanna cut her off in midsentenc
e. “Say no more, lass. I will personally fix your eggs every morning and cook your bacon.”

  Gillian grinned. “Thank you.”

  Hanna cocked her head, gazing intently at Gillian. Then she shook her head.

  “What is it, Hanna?”

  “You are nae so bad for a MacKay. I am thinking the laird did verra well for himself, although I am sure Seana willna agree with me.”

  “Thank you again. You are nae so bad for a MacKenna. And I like your daughter. As for Seana ...” Gillian shrugged expansively, “I doona care what she thinks. This marriage isna what I wanted; nor is it what Ross wanted. If he prefers Seana to me, so be it.”

  “Methinks Ross will honor his marriage vows. He is that kind of man. Mayhap you should—”

  “Doona give advice when you know naught about the flame, Hanna,” Gizela proclaimed from the doorway.

  Startled, Gillian whirled about. “Gizela, I didna hear you behind me.”

  Gizela shuffled over to Gillian and patted her hand. “Beware, lass: There are some at Ravenscraig who wish you ill.”

  “Almost everyone at Ravenscraig wishes me ill,” Gillian replied.

  “Oh, nay, I like you well enough,” Hanna exclaimed. “And so does my Alice.”

  “Your flame burns bright, Gillian MacKay. You are strong, but so is the laird,” Gizela proclaimed. “Be mindful of danger, lass.”

  “What kind of danger, Gizela?”

  “Och, doona listen to her, lass,” Hanna said. “No one here wishes you harm.”

  “So you say,” Gizela muttered.

  “Doona frighten the laird’s new wife, Gizela.”

  The light in Gizela’s eyes flared, then dimmed as she turned and walked off, muttering to herself. Gillian hastily crossed herself, certain that the old crone was a witch.

  “Sit down, lass; your eggs will be ready in no time.” Hanna placed a loaf of newly baked bread on the table and cut off a generous slice. “There’s fresh butter on the table. Help yourself.”

  Since Gillian had left the hall hungry, she didn’t hesitate to spread a thick layer of butter on the bread and bite into it. It tasted delicious. When Hanna placed a plate of eggs and ham in front of Gillian, she dug in unashamedly.

  “Milk or ale?” Hanna asked.

  “Milk, please.”

  Gillian ate with relish, savoring the milk, which was a rare treat. Most households saved the milk for their bairns. But there didn’t seem to be any bairns at Ravenscraig.

  Gillian cleaned her plate, thanked Hanna, and wandered into the hall. To her dismay, the first person she encountered was Seana.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Seana cooed. “I thought we might share confidences about Ross. Did you nae find him a magnificent lover? He made me swoon with delight each time we mated.”

  Gillian wasn’t as adept at exchanging barbs as she was at swordplay. Had Seana challenged her, she would have trounced her soundly. This kind of warfare was new to Gillian, but she was a fast learner.

  “I doona have time for idle chatter, Seana,” Gillian said coolly. “Since the weather is so fine today, I thought I would ride my mare over the moors. Silver needs the exercise.”

  “Och, doona be shy, Gillian. Did Ross nae please you in bed?” Seana persisted.

  “What takes place in my bedchamber is none of your business.”

  So saying, she pushed past Seana and headed out the door. The weather was pleasant compared to the day before, when sleet fell to dampen her wedding. The sun was shining and the air mild enough for a brisk ride across the moors.

  When Gillian found the stables and asked to have Silver saddled, she was told that her mare hadn’t arrived from Braeburn yet. The small annoyance didn’t bother Gillian overmuch. She blithely entered the stables and looked over Ross’s stock. She selected a spirited black gelding named Raven and asked to have him saddled.

  “I wouldna recommend Raven, mistress,” the lad said, pulling his forelock. “He is a handful. No one but the laird ever rides him.”

  That made Gillian more eager than ever to ride the gelding. “Saddle him. If Ross can ride him, so can I.”

  Raven pranced about a bit when he was led out, but Gillian didn’t think him particularly dangerous. She patted his nose, spoke softly to him, and soon had him gentled. With the lad’s help, she mounted Raven, seating herself astride him. Then she urged him through the gate into open countryside.

  Gillian maintained a slow gallop over the moors, which were still ablaze with heather, then gave Raven his head. The gelding didn’t disappoint. He practically flew, his hooves barely touching the ground. Gillian threw back her head and laughed, her hair trailing loose behind her like a flaming banner. She hadn’t felt this free in ages.

  Gillian was still flying over the moors when she spotted a lone rider racing toward her. She slowed Raven to a more sedate pace. The rider began waving his arms, as if trying to attract her attention. When Gillian recognized Angus Sinclair, she drew rein.

  “Gillian, what are you doing out here?” Angus asked when he reached her. “Riding alone in open country is dangerous, though I admit I am happy to see you.”

  “This land belongs to Ravenscraig,” Gillian replied. “And beyond that lies MacKay territory. I am safe here. More to the point, what are you doing here, Angus?”

  Did Angus still have feelings for her? Gillian wondered.

  “I just left your father at Braeburn,” Angus explained. “I know you were forced into marriage with the MacKenna, and wanted to ride to Ravenscraig to inquire about your welfare. But your father convinced me I amna welcome at Ravenscraig.”

  “As you can see, I am fine. But thank you for caring. If you hadna taken so long to sign the betrothal agreement, I would be your wife instead of MacKenna’s.” She stared into his eyes, wondering if she still cared for him as she had once thought she did. Had one night in MacKenna’s bed changed her opinion of Angus? Surely not, she told herself. “I wish it had been you.”

  “I will regret the delay the rest of my life,” Angus said. He moved his horse closer. “You doona have to stay with him, Gillian. The man canna be trusted. I wouldna be surprised if he broke the truce. He doesna want the feud to end. He will attack your family when they least expect it.”

  Gillian felt strangely compelled to defend Ross. “You doona know that, Angus.”

  Reaching out, he grabbed her reins. “Aye, I do know, lass. Come away with me now.”

  Gillian tried to jerk the reins from his grasp and failed. “ ’Tis too late; I am already wed. Besides, you know what will happen if I leave MacKenna.”

  “Bride stealing is a time-honored tradition among the Scots. If you were mine, I wouldna let you ride about the countryside without protection,” he said darkly, starting to lead her horse away.

  “Stop! Are you mad? The feud will resume if I go missing. ’Tis as if you are eager to see the bloodletting continue.”

  Angus sneered at her. “Are you so eager to return to the MacKenna’s bed?”

  Gillian’s cheeks burned. Returning to Ross’s bed wouldn’t be an onerous chore, even though she heartily disliked the man. “You know ’tis not that.”

  “Then I see no reason for you to stay with him. If the feud resumes, Clan MacKay and its allies will eventually rout the enemy from Ravenscraig and claim victory.”

  Gillian bit her lip. “I amna so sure ’tis what I want.”

  Angus did naught to control his anger. “I never took you for a traitor, Gillian.”

  Gillian bristled. “I didna want to wed MacKenna. ’Twas you I wanted. But I had no choice. Now I am a married woman and the feud is over. All I must do to keep the peace is remain at Ravenscraig. There is not even any need for MacKenna to bed me again, now that the marriage has been consummated. He keeps a leman. Seana McHamish can satisfy his base desires.”

  “If you were mine, wouldna need a leman,” Angus vowed. “You will be mine, Gillian. I doona care about your sham of a marriage.”

  Snaking an arm aroun
d Gillian’s waist, he tried to transfer her from Raven’s back to his own mount, but Raven shied away, forcing Angus to release his hold on Gillian.

  Neither Gillian nor Angus heard the horse pounding toward them. Alerted by a shout from behind her, Gillian turned to glance over her shoulder.

  It was Ross, and he was not sparing his horse to reach them. Angus cursed violently, but before he could turn his horse and race away, Ross was upon them.

  Ross had been searching for livestock on a nearby hill when he recognized Gillian, clad in her MacKay plaid, riding below on the moors. He was startled and more than a little concerned when he realized she was riding Raven, whose disposition was anything but placid. But when he noted how well she handled the gelding, he ceased worrying. He was about to turn away when he noticed another rider approaching her. The moment he recognized the Sinclair plaid on the man, he started down from the hills.

  Even from a distance Ross noted how intimate their conversation appeared, how Sinclair edged his mount close enough to embrace Gillian. His temper flaring, Ross dug his heels into his mount.

  Surely the lass hadn’t arranged this meeting so soon after their wedding, had she? His mouth flattened. With Gillian, anything was possible.

  “Hold, Sinclair!” Ross shouted when Sinclair finally saw him and would have fled. Ross reined in sharply beside him. “I’ll thank you to keep your hands off my wife.”

  “Our meeting was accidental,” Sinclair replied, keeping a wary eye on Ross. “We were merely discussing old times.”

  Ross slanted a speaking glance at Gillian. “Why didna you tell me you wanted to go riding? I would have found you a proper mount until your own horse arrived from Braeburn. Go home, Gillian. We will discuss your behavior later.”

  Gillian stiffened her shoulders. “There is naught wrong with my behavior. As Angus said, we were merely socializing.”

  “From now on you will socialize in the hall, like a civilized person.”

  Gillian bristled. “Are you suggesting I amna civilized, MacKenna?”