The Highlander’s Bride Trouble

by Mary Wine

  “I love ye.” She shuddered, and her eyes closed, but she forced them open, not wanting to miss her last moments with him. She caught his hand and pressed it against her breast. “I love ye.”

  His lips twitched. But he lacked the strength to actually grin at her. For a moment, his fingers moved against the swells of her breasts, but it was a fleeting thing. His eyes closed, and his arm went limp.

  A sob escaped her, and then another, as tears flowed down her cheeks freely. Peace settled over him as the sun set. She felt his strength diminishing, along with the light, and she began to feel the coldness of separation biting into her.

  Why was fate so unkind?

  ***

  “So I lived to see another day…”

  Nareen turned to find Saer watching her the next day. She blinked, unable to understand that he was still alive.

  “Ye’re keeping me here,” he teased her.

  “Nay,” she argued gently as she offered him more of the remedy Maud had left. She lifted it to his lips and watched some of it disappear. “Ye are too stubborn to die.”

  “Ye are too stubborn to let me.”

  “Thank Maud.” Nareen offered him more of the remedy. “She knows things I do nae. Things I should know.”

  “I want to thank ye…for wedding me.”

  He reached for her hand, and she clasped his.

  “Ye told them to work,” he muttered as his eyes began to droop.

  “It’s the sound of the future,” she confirmed.

  “Go…see what progress has been made… I want to know…”

  ***

  The stonemasons didn’t hesitate to show her what they had accomplished. But the stone from the Rosses was stacked outside the new curtain wall, abandoned. She stared at it as two of the senior masons watched her.

  “Bad luck stone.” One muttered.

  His comrade nodded.

  “It was paid for in blood,” she informed them. “Lay it on the outer wall, so everyone knows their laird will bleed for them if necessary.”

  They tugged on their caps before she returned to the tower room. She paced back and forth, unable to sit in the chair for another day.

  She sensed the battle Saer was waging, would have sworn she felt the struggle he was engaged in. Sweat glistened on his forehead as his fever rose even higher.

  Maud pressed her lips together in a frown as she tended to him.

  Nareen took his hand and pulled it close.

  “Ye cannae leave me,” she muttered. “Nae when I have finally found someone to trust again.”

  He jerked, but his eyes did not open.

  “I trust ye, Saer MacLeod, do ye hear?”

  She convinced herself he did, speaking to him of all the things they had left to do in life.

  She just wished she wasn’t running out of hope.

  ***

  An owl screeched and woke her.

  Nareen lifted her head and stared out the open doors of the terrazzino.

  The bird was perched on the half wall, watching her with eyes that reflected the yellow light of the moon.

  “Ye cannae have him,” she informed the bird. “Do ye hear? Saer MacLeod is nae going to die.”

  But his hand was cold.

  She gasped and reached out to lay her hand on his chest. The heat was gone, and for a moment, she feared the life had left him while she slept.

  But his chest filled, rising up and delighting her. She slid her hands over him, inspecting every inch of him to make sure the fever was truly gone.

  “I do…enjoy yer touch…”

  His voice was raspy, but more dear to her than any sound on earth.

  “Maud did it…ye did it…”

  He tried to sit up but managed only to lift his head. “I cannae seem to do anything.”

  She lifted the goblet to his lips. “Ye survived. For now, that is enough.”

  ***

  Kael Grant held his father’s hand. The old man fought to draw breath and could no longer close his grip.

  But he opened his eyes, and there was a clarity in them Kael hadn’t seen in years.

  “Yer sister?” he asked. “Is she content?”

  “I believe she is.”

  His father clicked his tongue, as though he was having trouble controlling it. “Ye’ll make…certain?”

  “I will never leave it to chance again,” Kael promised.

  “Good.”

  His father was straining, his breath becoming more labored. “I am proud of ye…both.”

  He succeeded in closing his hand around Kael’s. The pressure registered just a moment before his father shuddered and went still. Kael sat still for a long time before easing the signet ring off his father’s hand. His laird was dead. He stared at the ring, unable to put it on for a long time.

  But he heard the retainers in the yard coming in after training, and the bells striking the changing of the guard along the walls.

  He pushed the ring onto his hand. The way to honor his father was to become the man his father had wished him to be.

  Laird of the Grants.

  ***

  The Earl of Ross looked up as his men came into the Great Hall. It was only noon, and he’d just finished his first goblet of wine.

  The men stopped and pulled on the corners of their bonnets, but there was something wrong with them. There were only three, and they were tattered and dirty, one wearing a bandage around his leg. One of them walked up the steps to the high table and laid his short sword on the table in front of him.

  “What is this?” the earl questioned. He peered closer at the blade. “Is that dried blood?”

  “Aye, as ye instructed. It is the blood of Saer MacLeod. The captain was slain after carrying out yer order to ambush Laird MacLeod. The wound looked mortal, but I did nae see him die.”

  The earl’s face transformed into one of horrified remorse. “What are ye saying? That I ordered such a thing?”

  “Ye did.” The other two men nodded.

  The earl sank back into his chair, his wine goblet forgotten on the table. He looked like he was withering before them, and he died with his eyes open.

  There was no weeping on Ross land, only a deep sense of relief.

  ***

  Saer MacLeod didn’t care for resting.

  Two weeks later, Nareen was ready to scream at the surly nature of her husband.

  Three weeks later, she woke to him trying to dress.

  “Are ye mad?” she asked as she kicked the bedding aside.

  He glared at her. “I will go mad if I stay in this chamber another day. There is work to do, woman.”

  “I knew ye were too stubborn to die.”

  She helped him with his shirt and kilt. He sat down for her to lace his boots, because he still could not bend over without pain.

  His people greeted him with a cheer that filled the Great Hall. But her husband was eager to get into the yard. Once there, the sunlight seemed to restore him. His captains clustered around him as the master masons waited their turn to confer with him. Nareen drank in the sight before turning to begin what she’d promised she do if he survived.

  ***

  “The tens need archery lessons today,” he called after her.

  Nareen turned and offered her husband a slow shake of her head. His brow furrowed in confusion. She moved back toward him as the group waiting for him backed away.

  “I’m off to the stillroom for lessons with Maud.”

  “Why?”

  She pressed a hand against his chest. “Because ye know the art of being a husband, and I need to learn the art of being a wife. That is the way to make a better future for the MacLeod. I’ll be making sure the women of this clan are skill
ed and knowledgeable.”

  Saer covered her hand with his. “I would nae see ye feeling forced into a place, Nareen.”

  “I love ye for that.” She lowered her voice so her words stayed between them. “And I am happy to be yer wife. So I am off to become a better one.”

  “No regrets for taking a woman’s place?”

  “I plan to stand beside ye, Husband, and I like that place very much.”

  He nodded approvingly. “So do I.”

  His eyes glittered, looking for a moment like they were flooded with unshed tears. He pressed her hand to his chest with more force, the level of emotion going through him too intense not to feel.

  “I love ye, Nareen.”

  She stiffened. “Ye do nae have to say that.”

  He slid an arm around her and pulled her close. She froze, worried that she might cause him pain. But he chuckled wickedly.

  “I see uses for this wound at last. Never did I think there was a force strong enough in the Highlands to bring ye to heel,” he whispered.

  “Ye’d be bored to tears within a month if I remained docile.”

  “True.” He placed a kiss against her lips. “Ye kept me alive with yer love, lass. I understand me mother now and pity me father for nae being able to hold on to the woman he loved. I will nae make the same mistakes he did.”

  They were surrounded by the morning activity, the steady chipping of stone and the grinding of the cranes. His voice was low and soft, for her ears alone.

  “Ye won’t?” she asked.

  He shook his head, and she slid her hands along his jaw. “I won’t be making the mistake of thinking me past must control me future. I trust ye, Saer MacLeod.”

  His eyes brightened, and his embrace tightened. For a moment, she was sure there was nothing in the world except for the two of them.

  And their love.

  ***

  She refused to scream.

  Nareen drew in a deep breath and blew it out in a long stream. She opened her eyes and looked at the stars above her, smiling as she felt her baby squirming inside her.

  Two maids came onto the terrazzino, their eyes wide as they took in the fact that Nareen had ordered the birthing chair to be set up outside. It was summer, and the weather warm.

  Her belly began to tighten again. She felt it moving across from her hips to her mons as her labor increased.

  She still refused to scream. Only a grunt escaped her lips.

  “Bear down…” Maud instructed. The older woman stood near while two other, younger midwives stood by to help catch the babe.

  “I see its head, mistress…this next pain should see it done…”

  Nareen felt it coming and gulped a breath before pushing. She felt the baby moving, dropping into the world as one of the midwives squealed with delight.

  “’Tis a boy! A fine lad.”

  The baby let out a wail as he took his first lungful of air.

  Nareen gripped the armrests of the birthing chair and leaned back as the midwives tended to her. Sweat was beaded all over her body. Her chemise stuck to her. She eyed the bathing shower with longing.

  But first she’d greet her son. The trestle table was outside too, and draped with cloth. The midwives had laid the baby on it to clean him.

  “Oh sweet mother of Christ…”

  Nareen opened her eyes and sat up. One of the midwives was staring down at the new baby with wide eyes. Maud frowned and leaned closer to get a good look at the infant.

  “More light,” the elder commanded.

  “What is it?” Nareen demanded. “Let me see him.”

  Her voice rose as Maud took a candle and lowered it so she might see something on the baby clearer. No one answered Nareen, sending alarm through her.

  It was more than that. It was true fear. She already loved her child, couldn’t bear the idea that something might be wrong with him.

  “Maud…tell me what is amiss.”

  Her voice rose, and there was a crash as the door of the inner chamber was shoved in. Saer charged into the chamber in defiance of the tradition that women attend to birthing.

  “What is wrong?” he demanded.

  “Naught,” Maud proclaimed.

  She turned, leaning on her cane, and displayed a crooked smile. “I believe everything is now perfect.”

  She waved one of the other midwives forward. The woman carefully scooped up the newborn babe and brought him toward his parents. Nareen held out her arms, but Saer had to help her hold the baby because she was shaking from the effort of the birth. They cuddled him close as they inspected him, counting his fingers and toes twice.

  Maud made her way closer. “Look at his right temple, mistress.”

  Someone held up a candle, so its yellow light illuminated the new child.

  There on his temple was a red mark. It was red and slightly raised, and in the form of a cross.

  “It’s a sign that the MacLeod made the right choice for laird,” Maud proclaimed. “God has put his mark upon yer son to prove he has divine favor.”

  The women all made the sign of the cross over themselves. One ran to the half wall of the terrazzino and leaned out. “A son!” she yelled to those waiting in the courtyard below. A cheer rose up, but Nareen was too busy looking at her child.

  Saer kissed her temple. “Ye astound me, lass.”

  “I’ll be having a daughter too,” she informed him softly.

  He smoothed the hair off her forehead. “Of course ye will.”

  Music started up below in the courtyard, in spite of the lateness of the hour. The wail of bagpipes lifted into the air, and her son opened his eyes wide and stopped fussing.

  Saer stroked his cheek with one fingertip. “That’s a fine Highlander lad. Welcome to the MacLeods.”

  Read on for an excerpt from

  The Trouble with Highlanders

  MacLeod land, late summer 1488

  “Ye are nae me husband…”

  “Maybe I want it just that way, marriage is boring…”

  Daphne MacLeod kicked at her bedding, but the dream held her tight. Part of her was content, maybe even eager to sink down into the memory of being in Norris Sutherland’s arms.

  “I want ye demanding and passionate, nae filled with duty, lass…”

  She twisted again, feeling his arms around her. His strength had been impressive and arousing. Never had she imagined how much she’d enjoy being pressed against a man, beneath him or when she decided to straddle his hips and take charge of their pace. Just as long as she felt his hands holding her as though letting her go might devastate him

  “And I want ye to stop telling me what to do…”

  Need and yearning filled her. It traveled along her body, teasing parts of her she hadn’t known could feel so good. The sensation was building, twisting tighter as her body neared the point where it would burst into a shower of pleasure.

  Instead, she jerked out of her sleep, escaping the hold of the dream only to discover that her freedom was cold and dark. She pressed her fist against her mouth to silence her cry. The chamber was silent, and yet it felt as though Norris was in it. She could sense him, would swear she felt him close enough to reach out and touch.

  But there was no need to light a candle. The wind rattled the window shutters, blowing inside through the broken glass to chill her arms. She lay back down and pulled the bedding up. Her thick comforter was a luxury, and she snuggled beneath it gratefully. But her belly growled, reminding her there had been little comfort set out at supper. The stew the cook produced had been more water than anything else, but it had needed to fill many bowls.

  It was a sure bet Norris Sutherland, heir to the Earldom of Sutherland, wasn’t awake in the dark hours of the morning with an empty belly. Even his accom
modations in a military camp had been grand, the bed on which he’d taken her maidenhead a comfortable one.

  Ye mean the one ye joined him on as his lover…

  She closed her eyes and ordered herself to sleep while she might. The summer days were long, and there was much to do. Once winter closed its icy fist around the Highlands, there would be naught to do but seek out her bed for warmth.

  She certainly wouldn’t be seeking out Norris Sutherland. No. She might have enjoyed the time she spent in his bed, but she could not ever forget that she had gone there to avoid wedding a man who loved another. She must not forget, because a man such as Norris certainly did not lack for willing bed partners. She would not join the ranks of his mistresses.

  Even if she did dream of the man.

  ***

  Dunrobin Castle, Sutherland

  “Is there anything else ye desire, me laird?”

  The serving girl was pretty, and she had curves in all the places Norris liked women to have them. Her dress was open enough to allow him a generous view of her breasts.

  “Nae.”

  Disappointment flashed across her face, her gaze sweeping his chest before she picked up his empty mug and placed it on her serving tray. When she turned around, he was treated to a view of her backside as she descended the four steps leading down from the high-table landing to the floor of the great hall.

  Yes, definitely curves in all the right places, and she moved with a sultry motion that should have sent heat through his veins. But his cock lay slack and uninterested beneath his kilt. He reached for the fresh mug of ale the serving lass had delivered but didn’t lift it to his lips. This was becoming tiresome—exceedingly so.

  He scanned the hall, catching the smiles of other lasses all watching him to see if he would summon them forward. There were dark-haired ones and blondes, even a redhead, but none of them sparked even a twitch from his cock. The thing had been useless for nearly three months.

  “I’m growing worried about ye, me boy.”

  There was only one man who would call him boy and not get smashed in the face for it. Norris stood as his father appeared from the archway that led to his private study that was hidden behind the raised floor at the end of the great hall. Norris had helped outfit the room to give his father a sanctuary when he needed a few moments of rest. It would never do for the Highland earl to appear fatigued in front of his clan. The chamber had become the earl’s favorite for business, but Norris did wonder if part of the appeal was being able to sneak up on his son.