by Mary Wine
It didn’t seem to trouble her any. A tinkling of laughter was swept up to his ears by the wind. Argyll nickered, gaining another smell of the mare. The rider pulled up on her reins suddenly. She sat up tall in the saddle, soothing the neck of her mare with a steady hand. But the horse tossed her head and danced in a wide circle.
“There now, girl. What’s yer worry?”
Her voice was as enticing as the sight of her. Cullen let Argyll close the distance a few more yards before he pulled up on the bridle. He was on McQuade land now. It was a sure bet that the lass would no be very happy when she noticed him. But he was curious to see what she did when she saw a McJames so close. He had no stomach for women who panicked; their screaming drove him near daft.
The mare smelled Argyll. The animal side-stepped and let out a loud snort. She slid off the saddle because she’d been perched on it side fashion but she didn’t cower in fear. She grabbed the bridle and pulled the mare around to face her. It was impressive to watch because she was a small thing. The mare could hurt her but she kept sure command of the animal, refusing to allow it to rule her.
“Easy now.” Her face rose from where she’d been looking at her horse. Cullen watched her eyes widen as she stared at him. She shook her head as though she were trying to get the sight of him to vanish.
Argyll grunted, proving that he was all too real.
She was a fool.
Bronwyn felt her heart freeze, because the man was huge. The hilt of his sword reflected the last of the daylight. His stallion was a good two hands taller than her mare. It could run her down with no trouble at all. Worse yet, the man wore the kilt of the McJames clan. With her father and brothers raiding their land, he had no reason to treat her kindly. His body was cut with hard muscles, and where his shirt sleeves were rolled up, she saw the evidence that spoke of his firsthand knowledge and skill with that sword. She scanned the ridge above him quickly, fearing that the McJames had decided to repay her father’s raids by doing a few themselves.
But there was no one in the fading light. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she returned her attention to him. She’d never considered that a McJames warrior might enjoy an afternoon ride the same as she.
“Good day to ye, lass.” His voice was deep and edged with playfulness. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his knitted bonnet, a half smile curving his lips. His light-colored hair brushing his wide shoulders, a single thin braid ran down along the side of his face to keep it out of his eyes. He wore only a leather doublet over his shirt and the sleeves of the doublet were hanging behind him. There was a majestic quality to him. One that was mesmerizing. Her brother Keir was a very large man and she wasn’t used to meeting men who measured up to his size. This one did. He radiated strength from his booted feet to his blond hair. There was nothing small or weak about him. In his presence she felt petite, something she was unaccustomed to. Almost as though she noticed that she was a woman and that her body was fashioned to fit against his male one.
“Good day.”
She had no idea why she spoke to him. It was an impulse. A shiver raced down her back. Her eyes widened, heat stinging her cheeks, her mouth suddenly dry. A shudder shook her gently, surprising her. Beneath her doublet, her nipples tingled, the sensation unnerving.
His gaze touched on her face, witnessing the scarlet stain creeping across it. A flicker of heat entered his eyes. It was bold but something inside her enjoyed knowing that she sparked such a look in him.
“It’s a fine day for riding.”
His words were innocent of double meaning, but Bronwyn drew in a sharp breath because her mind imagined a far different sort of riding. Her own thoughts shocked her deeply. She’d never been so aware of just what a man might do with a woman when they were alone, and now was the poorest time for her body to be reacting to such things. It felt as though he could read her mind. At least the roguish smile he flashed her hinted that he could. His lips settled back into a firm line. She had to jerk her eyes away from them but that left her staring into his blue eyes. Hunger flickered there and her body approved. Her nipples drew tight, hitting her boned stays.
“Ye shouldna look at me like that, lass.” He sounded like he was warning himself more than her, but her blush burned hotter because he was very correct.
“Nor should ye look at me as ye are.”
A grin split his lips, flashing a hint of his teeth. “Ye have that right. But what am I to do when ye stand there so tempting? I’m merely a man.”
And for some reason she felt more like a woman than she ever had. Something hot and thick flowed through her veins. There was no thinking about anything. Her body was alive with sensations, touching off longings she’d thought deeply buried beneath the harsh reality of her father’s loathing to see her wed.
“A man who is far from his home.” Her gaze touched on his kilt for a moment, the blue, yellow, and orange of the McJames clan holding her attention. “I’m a McQuade.”
“I figured that already, but its nae my clan that keeps us quarreling.”
He let his horse close the distance again. The mare didn’t move now, she stood quivering as the large stallion made a circle around her. The same flood of excitement swept through Bronwyn, keeping her mesmerized by the man moving around her. Bronwyn shook her head, trying to regain her wits.
“But I’m thinking that we just might be able to get along quite nicely.” His eyes flickered with promise. “Ye and I.”
“Ye should go. Ye’re correct that it is my clansmen that seek trouble with the McJames. Ye shouldna give them a reason to begin a fight.”
“And ye would nae see that happen? I’m pleasantly surprised.”
His stallion was still moving in a circle around her. Bronwyn had to twist her neck to keep him in sight. Every time he went behind her, her body tightened, every muscle drawing taut with anticipation. Such a response defied everything that she knew.
“Surprised that I’ve no desire to see blood spilt? Being a McJames does not mean I am cruel at heart. What is yer name?” he asked.
Fear shot through her, ending her fascination with him. Being the laird’s daughter meant she was a prize worth taking. Riding out alone so far had been a mistake she just might pay for with her body. Few would believe her if she told them her father wouldn’t pay any ransom for her. Beyond money, there were men who would consider taking her virtue a fine way to strike back at her clan.
“I’ll no tell ye that. McQuade is enough for ye to know.”
“I disagree with ye. ’Tis much too formal only knowing your clan name. I want to know what ye were baptized.”
“Yet ye’ll have to be content for I shall nae tell ye my Christian name.” He frowned but Bronwyn forced herself to be firm. This flirtation was dangerous. Her heart was racing but with more than fear. “If ye get caught on McQuade land, I’ll no be able to help ye.”
“Would that make ye sad, lass?”
“No.” He was toying with her. “But it would ruin supper, what with all the gloating from the men that drove ye back onto McJames land. There would be talk of nothing else.”
One golden eyebrow rose as the horse moved closer to her. He swung a leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. Her belly quivered in the oddest fashion. But she had been correct about one thing—this man was huge.
“Are ye sure, lass? I might be willing to press me luck if I thought ye’d feel something for me.”
“That’s foolishness. Get on with ye. I willna tell ye my name. Ye’re a stranger; I dinna feel anything beyond Christian good will toward ye.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
He flashed another grin at her, but this one was far more calculating and full of intent. “Afraid I might sneak into yer home and steal ye if I know whose daughter ye are?”
He came closer but kept a firm hand on the reins of his mount. Authority shone from his face now, clear, determined, and undeniable. This man was accustomed to leading. It was part of the fib
ers that made up his being. He would have the nerve to steal her if that was what he decided upon. There was plenty enough arrogance in him, for certain. She felt it in the pit of her belly. What made her eyelashes flutter to conceal her emotions was the excitement such knowledge unleashed in her.
“Enough teasing,” she said. “Neither of us are children.”
“Aye, I noticed that already.”
Her face brightened once more. His eyes swept her and his expression tightened. Maybe she had never seen a man looking at her like that afore but her body seemed to understand exactly what the flicker of hunger meant. She stared at it, mesmerized.
“Tell me yer name, lass.”
His voice was deep and quiet now. But there was no missing the determination edging it. She shook her head, not trusting her voice. It might betray the way her body shivered. She couldn’t allow him to hear how much he affected her. This man was a hunter.
“I will not. Jesting about stealing a woman may be all well and good when ye’re sipping yer whiskey, but it doesna make for good unions. We know nothing about each other.”
“Ah…but if I tossed ye across my saddle, that would change. Once I took ye back to my home, we’d have plenty of time to learn about one another.”
Shock raced through her but what alarmed her was the ripple of excitement that went hand in hand with that shock. He reached out, the back of his hand stroking down the surface of one cheek.
“Ye are blushing for me.”
She jerked away from his touch, ashamed by how much she enjoyed it. Shamed by how much she wanted more than a mere stroke from his fingers. Shamed by how much of a woman he made her feel.
“’Tis nothing.”
He moved toward her again, closing the distance that she’d placed between them. “I disagree, lass. ’Tis something that I’ve a mind to understand better.”
His persistence irritated her. “Are ye telling me that ye would ruin me for the sake of a moment’s impulse? Stolen women are considered soiled when they return home. Is yer need to boast that important to ye?”
“What makes ye think I would return ye?” There was a hint of injured pride in his tone. “Maybe it’s marriage I have on my mind.”
She laughed at him. His lips twitched up and she knew that she’d caught him like a naughty boy pulling her braids.
“As if any man should marry for attraction alone. Ye’d be a fool and yer family would be sure to tell ye that the moment ye took a bride that came with nothing but lust.”
“Ah, maybe, but still the idea is teasing me with possibilities…”
The stallion he held the reins to suddenly reared up, pawing at the air. Her mare jumped, dancing in a wide circle once more. As her horse turned, she stared at the line of her father’s retainers cresting the ridge. Shouts drifted on the wind as they sighted her and her company. She lifted a foot to the stirrup and pushed hard but her body flew upward with the help of a solid hand on her bottom. He gripped one cheek, squeezing it boldly.
“Ye’ve got the nerve!”
He flashed her a grin that wasn’t repentant one bit.
“Something for ye to remember me by since I dinna get the chance to steal a kiss from ye.”
“I wouldna have let ye.”
One golden eyebrow rose mockingly. “That’s why I was planning on stealing it, lass.”
Her mare was still agitated and dancing in a circle. Gripping the reins, she guided her horse back around to find all hints of playfulness gone from the McJames retainer’s face. He frowned, his face taking on a fierce expression while he watched the McQuade clansmen begin racing down toward her. He gained his saddle in a motion that was fluid and strong. His thighs gripped the huge beast with confidence and the hilt of his sword rose above his right shoulder. The man was a warrior, no doubt about it.
A McJames one and that was a pity.
“It seems I’ll have to wait to learn who ye are.” But his expression changed when he looked at her once again. “Now that’s something I’m going to regret.”
Her own thoughts bothered her too much. “Go on with ye, else I’ll think ye a fool.”
“Ah, but ye will think of me and that is something I’ll be treasuring, lass.”
He reached for the corner of his bonnet once more. “Until we met again, sweet McQuade.”
His gaze lingered on her mouth for a long moment before he turned his mount toward McJames land. He dug his knees into the large animal and it bore him up the hill. Stallion and rider looked as strong as a legend, the edges of his kilt bouncing with the motion of riding.
Mesmerizing…
He turned and shot her one last glance at the top of the ridge. She thought she saw him smile but really wasn’t sure at such a distance. Her father’s men swarmed around her, their rough language shattering the moment and allowing reality to rush over her.
“Are ye daft? Keeping company with a McJames?”
Her brother Liam spat before pointing a finger at her. “And Cullen McJames, no less.”
Cullen McJames?
“It canna be…” Her words trailed off as she looked at the ridge. Another shiver shook her. This time it left goose bumps along her arms and legs. The McJames’s laird’s brother was a bold one and that was for sure. Keeping her name from him had been her saving grace.
“I never thought ye’d betray yer own clan.”
Bronwyn snapped out of her own thoughts to stare at her brother. “I dinna betray anyone. I don’t know the man. Dinna even know his name until ye spoke it. How could I know what the man looks like?”
“It dinna look that way to me.”
Liam spat again as did several of the men riding with him. They glared at her, condemning her. Her pride bristled but there was never any reasoning with Liam and his men. They would follow him, whatever he said or did because he was the firstborn son and destined to become laird someday.
She was just an unwanted girl. But that fact wasn’t enough to seal her lips today. Maybe it was the pure magnificence of the man she’d just met or the simple courtesy he’d shown her by tugging on the edge of his bonnet. She didn’t know or care. Liam could choke on his suspicions.
“I was no meeting him.”
Liam reached across the space between them, his hand connecting with her jaw in a hard blow.
“Save yer lies. I know what I saw with my own eyes.”
He reached down and yanked the reins out of her grip. Liam turned and pulled her mare along with his horse toward the waiting line of her father’s men. Their looks were every bit as harsh as the sting of Liam’s hand. But the only thing she felt was her temper rising. Upon reflection, she noticed just how much stronger Cullen McJames had looked, and it had nothing to do with the width of the man’s shoulders. It was in his smile and the way he didn’t cast ugly accusations with his eyes.
Aye, it was the truth that she found him handsome. By far the most fetching man she’d ever laid eyes upon.
“Slut.”
Her father didn’t strike her. He tossed a goblet full of ale across her body. The hall of Red Stone was silent; no one even took a step as the laird condemned his daughter. No one would, either. Bronwyn gathered her strength because the laird ruled absolutely on McQuade land.
“This is the thanks I receive for sheltering ye since yer mother presented me with a daughter.”
“I was not meeting him.”
Her father pointed at her from his seat on the raised dais at one end of the room. She stood in front of him like a criminal facing her judge.
“Ye mean to try and tell me that Cullen McJames just happened to be riding down onto my land and it had never happened before?” There were a few snorts from Liam and Sodac. “That ye dinna have an arrangement, thinking that I was away at court.”
“I do not lie. There is no arrangement between us.”
Her father laughed. But it was not a kind sound. It was harsh and full of bitterness. “Then explain why his hand was on yer arse?” Liam grunted, helping to pain
t her guilty. Erik McQuade looked at her as though she were vermin. “How long have ye been letting him use ye, slut?”
“Never! I did not lay with him.”
Bronwyn bristled under the harsh scrutiny being aimed at her. Even knowing her sire’s lack of fondness for her, she would not have expected him to cast such filth upon her name. To soil herself was to bring shame on the entire clan. Besides, she knew full well how lowly he treated his own consorts. She had no desire to fall to such a state.
“Bronwyn does not lie, Father. I have never heard her speak falsely.”
Erik McQuade glared at his youngest son. “How dare ye raise yer voice against mine.”
Keir didn’t flinch. He strode forward, uncaring of the hard looks aimed at him from the assembled retainers. He stopped in front of his father, giving the laird the briefest of nods in respect.
“I state a fact, Father. I have never heard Bronwyn lie. If she says she did not have a meeting with the younger McJames, I believe her. It is also a fact that I have never seen Bronwyn conducting herself like a lightskirt.”
Her father erupted. He surged to his feet, roaring with outrage. He flung the empty goblet at her brother. It hit him square in the chest but Keir brushed it aside like a bothersome insect. He did not cower in the face of his sire’s rage but stood straight and tall while their father turned purple.
“Why is fate set to curse me so?” McQuade shook his fist towards the heavens. “It saddles me with a useless daughter and a son who has the courage of Achilles but the temperament of a wife.”
The laird stood up and swept the room. “We’re returning to court.” He pointed at Bronwyn. “Yer going with me. Until sunrise, someone get this slut out of my sight.”
There was a scuff of boots against the stone floor as several retainers moved toward her. Keir turned in a tightly controlled motion, his kilt flaring out.
“No man touches her, save me.” He turned back toward his father. “I disagree with ye.”
Her father looked as though Keir had struck him. He sat back against the padded chair, shock whitening his face. His jaw worked but no words made it past his lips. Keir turned and hooked her upper arm in one hand. It was a kind grip that she willingly allowed to sweep her out of the hall.
