Highland Warrior

by Connie Mason

  “I am suggesting you are acting inappropriately for a married woman. Some might misinterpret your accidental meeting.”

  If Ross didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw flames shooting out of Gillian’s head.

  “You canna tell me how to act, MacKenna,” Gillian charged. “Wife or nay, I will do as I please, and it pleases me to converse with Angus. If not for your agreement with my father I would be Angus’s wife.”

  Ross clenched his fists at his sides to keep from reaching for Sinclair and beating him to a bloody pulp.

  Angus backed his horse away. “’Tis best you return to Ravenscraig, Gillian. I fear for your life if you continue to defy the brute you were forced to wed.” He turned to Ross. “If you beat Gillian, MacKay will call off the truce.”

  Ross knew precisely whom he wanted to beat, and it wasn’t Gillian, although a thorough tongue-lashing might ease his temper. “I have yet to beat a woman, but that may change verra soon.”

  “I’d like to see you try it,” Gillian dared him.

  Ross spared her a withering look. “Go home, Gillian. I want a private word with Sinclair.”

  Ross’s fierce expression must have convinced Gillian, for she reined her horse around and galloped off. “Foolish lass,” Ross bit out. “Raven is the devil’s spawn. She shouldna be riding him at breakneck speed.”

  “You care naught for Gillian,” Angus charged. “You wouldna keep a leman if you did.”

  Ross narrowed his eyes. He was seconds away from wringing Sinclair’s neck. “Who told you I kept a leman?”

  Angus smirked. “Gillian. Did you go to your leman after you relieved Gillian of her virginity?”

  That did it. Ross leaped at Angus and bore him to the ground. The smaller man didn’t have a chance. Ross had his dirk out and pressed against Angus’s jugular before Angus could reach for his own weapon.

  “Go ahead and kill me, MacKenna,” Angus goaded. “Killing me is one way to end the truce.”

  “Why are you so anxious for the feud to resume?”

  Angus bared his teeth. “You stole my woman. I want you dead, MacKenna. The sooner you die, the sooner I can claim Gillian. If it takes a resumption of the feud to kill you, then that is what I want.”

  “’The feud is done, over, Sinclair. Accept it. But heed me well: If you persist in pursuing my wife, I will kill you. Once MacKay is made aware of my reason for killing you, the truce will remain firmly in place.”

  Picturing Gillian in Sinclair’s arms made Ross crave Sinclair’s blood. Had Gillian yearned for Sinclair even as Ross was making love to her last night? His blood boiled at the thought. Gillian was his, and he intended to keep the flame-haired hellion.

  Slowly Ross withdrew his dirk and rose to his feet. Angus inched backward across the ground before rising and dusting himself off. “That was uncalled-for, MacKenna.”

  “Take that as fair warning, Sinclair. I am the only man with the right to bed Gillian.”

  “Will you take her even if she is unwilling?” Sinclair challenged.

  The corner of Ross’s mouth curled up in a smile so charged with sexual innuendo that no one could mistake his meaning. “Do you really think Gillian is unwilling? She didna resist me on our wedding night. In fact, she ignited in my arms and burned to a cinder.”

  He leaped onto his horse, still smiling at Sinclair. “’Think on that before you attempt to seduce my wife again.” Digging his heels into his mount, he rode off, leaving Sinclair choking on his dust.

  Fuming in impotent rage, Ross reined his sure-footed gelding back toward the hills. No matter how badly he wanted to return home to confront Gillian, it would have to wait until later. He needed to cool down first.

  Gillian returned to Ravenscraig in a fury. How dared MacKenna embarrass her in front of Angus! It wasn’t as if MacKenna held her in high regard. He barely knew her. Their marriage had been dictated by circumstances; he had no right to tell her whom to befriend. Why should he care what she did, when he had Seana waiting for his summons? The man was impossible, a veritable ogre: possessive and overbearing.

  A thought occurred to Gillian as she rode through the gates into the courtyard. Would MacKenna really attempt to beat her? Angus had thought so. But the threat of a beating didn’t bother Gillian in the least. She could protect herself as well as any man.

  Gillian dismounted before the stables and tossed Raven’s reins to the stable lad. By the time she strode through the front door, she was in no mood for a confrontation with Seana or anyone else. When Donald hailed her, she pretended not to hear and proceeded up the stairs to the solar. She went directly to her trunk, which had been delivered the day before, and flung open the lid.

  Gillian had no idea whether Ross was angry enough to beat her but she wasn’t going to take any chances. She rummaged amid the clothing in her trunk until she found the sword her father had given her. It was lighter than a claymore but sharp and deadly. Dismayed, she shook her head. She had been wed but one day and already felt the need to defend herself.

  Gillian paced her chamber, waiting for Ross to return. She had missed the midday meal but felt no hunger pangs. Nor was she afraid to face the MacKenna. It was nearly time for the evening meal before she heard his footsteps approaching her chamber. She reached for her sword, hiding it in the folds of her skirt just as the door burst open.

  Ross stormed into the chamber and halted before Gillian. Her defiant attitude was something to behold. Though he knew he shouldn’t, he admired her spirit. “What have you to say for yourself, woman?”

  “I wanted to go riding. There is naught else to say.”

  “Did you arrange to meet with Sinclair?”

  “When, pray tell, was I supposed to do that?”

  “I doona know. What did he want?”

  “We were simply passing the time of day.”

  Ross’s mouth flattened. “Doona lie to me, wife. He had his hands on you.”

  Gillian’s chin angled higher. “Verra well, if you must know, he had wife stealing in mind.”

  Ross felt ready to explode despite his unnatural calmness. “You were wise to refuse.”

  “Who said I refused?”

  Ross felt a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Doona jest with me, Gillian. One thing I willna abide is an unfaithful wife.”

  Gillian glared at him. “What about an unfaithful husband?”

  “I have no intention of betraying my wedding vows. Heed me well, wife. There will be no more ‘accidental’ meetings with Sinclair or any other man.”

  Gillian bared her teeth. “What will you do, beat me?”

  He reached for her. Gillian must have thought he meant her harm, for she whipped out the sword she had hidden in the folds of her clothing, holding him at bay with the sharp tip.

  “Damnation, Gillian, what do you think you are doing?”

  “I willna let you beat me.”

  “What makes you think I intend to beat you?”

  “ ’Tis what all men do when their wives displease them.”

  “Put the sword down, Gillian.”

  Ross had no idea if Gillian’s intention had been to cut him as he attempted to grab the sword hilt at the same time Gillian started to withdraw it, but regardless of her intent, the sharp blade slashed across his palm.

  Gillian dropped the sword instantly, staring at the blood welling from Ross’s palm.

  “Doona just stand there; fetch a cloth to stop the bleeding,” Ross ordered curtly.

  Gillian ran to her trunk, found a clean chemise, and pressed it against Ross’s palm. “Shall I fetch Gizela?You will probably need stitches.”

  The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Gizela burst into the chamber, carrying a basket over her arm. “How bad is it, lad?”

  “ ’Tis but a wee cut.” He held out his hand. “Stitch away, old woman.”

  “How ... how did she know?” Gillian asked with equal parts fear and awe.

  Gizela removed needle and thread and an assortm
ent of salves from her basket and placed them on a nearby table. “I know many things,” she answered cryptically. “Sit down and give me your hand, laird.”

  Ross dropped down on a bench and held out his hand. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He glared at Gillian, expecting to see her cowering in fear, but nay, not his wife. Gillian was staring at Gizela as if she expected her to sprout horns.

  Ross didn’t move a muscle while Gizela cleaned his wound and stitched it up. He fixed his gaze on Gillian and kept it there during the whole process.

  After Gizela had bandaged Ross’s hand and replaced everything in the basket, her penetrating gaze settled on Gillian. “’Tis just the beginning, lass. The struggle willna end until the flame consumes the warrior or the warrior tames the flame.”

  “What does she mean?” Gillian asked after Gizela had departed. “Is she a witch?”

  Ross shrugged. “Who knows what she is? She has been Ravenscraig’s healer as long as I can remember. Though she is strange, she means no harm.”

  Ross unfolded himself from the bench and stalked toward Gillian. Before he reached her, he scooped up her sword from the floor and handed it to her hilt-first.

  “Doona ever raise your weapon to me again, lass. We will talk about your meeting with Sinclair later, after I devise a suitable punishment for your willfulness.”

  She backed up until the back of her knees hit the bed. “Punishment? You wouldna dare!”

  “I dare much, wife.”

  Before Gillian could protest, Ross snagged her about the waist and pulled her against him. Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

  Ross was wise enough to know he needed to subdue the flame before the flame consumed him. He might get burned in the process, but it would be well worth the effort.

  Chapter Six

  Attempting to understand Ross was driving Gillian mad. Instead of the beating she was expecting, she had received a kiss. She touched her lips, recalling Ross’s kiss and how it had affected her. Was his kiss supposed to be a form of punishment? If so, it wouldn’t change her behavior. Gillian didn’t fear Ross’s kisses. Then he had stormed out, leaving her more confused than ever.

  Gillian walked to the window and gazed out. The chapel bell in the village was chiming vespers. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since morning and was feeling the lack of food. Was she expected to join Ross in the hall for the evening meal, she wondered, or was he planning to ignore her?

  Gillian decided that no MacKenna was going to ignore a MacKay as long as there was a breath left in her lungs. Squaring her shoulders, she walked toward the door, intending to take her rightful place at the high table in the hall.

  Ross chose that moment to return. Gillian halted midway between the door and window and glared at him. He glared back.

  “I’ve come to escort you to the hall so we can sup together. It wouldna do for my clansmen to think there is dissension between us.”

  “I hope you are a good actor,” Gillian replied.

  She preceded him out the door. “I’m glad starvation isna the punishment you plan for me.”

  Ross bit his tongue to keep from responding. Anger still coiled deep inside of him. He had tried to forget the sight of Sinclair and Gillian together, but he couldn’t dislodge the image from his mind. As for devising a punishment for Gillian, that had been mostly bluster. He had wanted her to spend the afternoon worrying about what he was going to do to her.

  Ross almost laughed aloud at that thought. It would take a great deal more than threats to frighten his warrior woman, especially after he had chosen to kiss her instead of beat her.

  Nay, Ross had more pleasurable ways in mind to tame Gillian.

  With a hand on her arm, Ross urged Gillian down the staircase. “Smile, wildcat,” he murmured when they reached the hall.

  Ross wanted to shake Gillian until her teeth rattled when she lifted the corners of her mouth in a smile that fooled no one. They slid into their seats at the high table, and the meal began. Since the midday meal was usually more elaborate than the evening repast, the fare was light but delicious. It began with a flavorful potato soup, followed by flaky fish simmered in cream, and ending with pudding topped by toasted oatmeal.

  Gillian, Ross noted, ate generous portions of everything. When he recalled that she had missed the midday meal, he felt guilty for failing to send something up to her. But not guilty enough to mention it. Instead he leaned back, sipped his whiskey, and watched Gillian eat. Each time she closed her lush lips over a morsel of food, he felt himself harden as he imagined her mouth closing over a certain part of his anatomy. He squirmed in his seat and looked away.

  His gaze fell on Seana. She was staring at Gillian, her eyes brimming with hostility. Perhaps he should have sent Seana home. But since Ross had no intention of bedding his former leman again, he saw no reason to deprive his kinsmen of her favors.

  “She is lovely,” Gillian said.

  Startled, Ross looked at Gillian. “What? To whom are you referring?”

  “Seana, of course. Admit it: You want her.”

  “You are wrong, Gillian. I gave her to Niall and whomever else she fancies. She can return to her father’s keep anytime she wishes.”

  “She fancies you. Were you promised to each other before my father interfered?”

  “Nay, I was promised to no woman. Unlike you, I didna have another mate in mind when we wed.”

  Gillian flushed and returned her gaze to her plate. “It wouldna bother me if you bedded Seana.”

  “Naught you say will force me to set you aside, so stop your blathering, woman. Accept that men with higher goals than yours have found a way to make peace.”

  Though Gillian muttered something he could not understand, Ross was pleased that she had naught more to offer on the subject of Seana. He continued sipping his whiskey while Gillian scooped up the last spoonful of pudding. Ross waited until she dabbed daintily at her mouth with her napkin before saying, “Shall we retire, wife?”

  Gillian sent him a belligerent stare. “Why, so you can punish me? I havena forgotten your threat.”

  “I think you will like the punishment I have in mind.” He rose, bringing her along with him.

  Others began to leave as well so the tables could be taken up and gaming and other activities could commence. With a hand on her waist, Ross guided Gillian from the hall. Suddenly Gizela appeared before them. Gillian yelped and jumped behind Ross. Laughing, he steadied her.

  “The healer willna hurt you. What is it this time, Gizela?”

  “Shall I change the bandage on your hand, laird?”

  Ross flexed his hand. “ Nay, ’tis fine.”

  The old crone stared intently at Gillian. “ ’The laird has been waiting a long time for the flame to arrive.”

  “I doona ken,” Gillian replied.

  Gizela pointed a bony finger at Ross. “The laird kens.” She smiled vacantly. “Enjoy your punishment, Gillian, lass.” Then she ambled off.

  “What is she talking about, MacKenna?” Gillian wanted to know. Ross shrugged. “Gizela rarely makes sense.”

  “Why will I enjoy being punished?”

  “That I can answer. You will enjoy your punishment because I will make it enjoyable for you.”

  Gillian narrowed her eyes. “You’re not talking about hurting me, are you?”

  Ross snorted. “Hardly” He prodded her up the stairs.

  “Ross, I’d like a word with you before you retire,” a voice called from behind them.

  Ross turned his head. “Gordo, canna this wait until tomorrow?”

  “Nay, lad, it canna.”

  “Verra well.” He turned to Gillian. “I willna be long, lass.”

  “Take your time,” Gillian replied.

  Gillian hurried up the stairs to the solar. She could well imagine the kind of punishment Ross had in mind, and wanted to be in bed and asleep before he arrived. Alice was waiting to help her undress. While Alice folded and put away her mistress’s cloth
ing, Gillian washed and put on a clean shift. Then she dismissed Alice and climbed into bed.

  Her plan almost worked. She was hovering on the verge of sleep when Ross entered the chamber. He advanced toward the bed and stared down at her.

  “You can stop pretending, wife. I know you are awake.”

  Gillian lifted her eyelids sleepily “I thought you were meeting with your uncle.”

  Ross tossed back the covers and pulled her from bed. “Gordo told me Sinclairs have been spotted on Ravenscraig land. What mischief have you been plotting with Angus Sinclair?”

  Gillian wrenched her arm free. “Give me some credit, MacKenna. While I doona think this truce between our clans will last, I doona wish to see another of my loved ones fall beneath a MacKenna sword. I planned naught with Angus. I am your wife.”

  Ross searched her face so long, Gillian began to fidget beneath his intense scrutiny. Suddenly his face softened and he pulled her against him.

  “You are right. You are my wife, and I intend to have you, lass. Doona try to fight me. Gizela had the right of it.” His mouth hovered scant inches from hers; she could almost taste him. “I can feel your flame scorching me. I must conquer it before it consumes me.”

  “Am I the flame?” Gillian asked.

  He ran his fingers through her hair, holding the bright strands out for her inspection. “What do you think?”

  “I think Gizela is mad, and you along with her. Release me. I am tired and in no mood to be conquered.”

  Ross grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and raised it to meet his mouth. “We are wed; if I am in the mood to conquer, you will be conquered.”

  Immediately Gillian twisted free. “Our vows have been consummated; we doona need to do that again.”

  Angry heat shimmered through Ross. “Are you suggesting that we forgo marital relations for the duration of our marriage?”

  “Aye, that would be my preference.”

  Gillian looked so hopeful Ross nearly laughed aloud. “What about heirs? Am I to be denied children of my own?”

  “A man like you must have countless bairns running about the countryside.”