“Ah, yes,” the laird said, and Margaret had lifted her skirts to run off when he continued, “You ken, twas the deep friendship between my relations and their neighbors that resulted in the trade partnership I was just describing. You see, friendship…”
Margaret felt her eyes bulging from their sockets, shocked at how quickly her exit strategy had failed. This man was a powerful foe. She was about to cut her losses and just run off, hoping that he did not make a scene when she so rudely abandoned their one-sided conversation, when an arm had slipped into hers.
“Please excuse me, Laird Sinclair,” Alexander said. “I must borrow my wife.”
“Oh, of course, Laird Mackay, new love is—”
Margaret didn’t hear the rest, for Alexander had already pulled her away, navigating her through the now cluttered array of tables and benches, and the drunken wedding guests that clustered around them. Even after they had left the security of the pavilion, Alexander kept moving. Finally, when the torchlight was so far off in the distance that it could no longer illuminate them, he stopped.
“Go ahead,” he said, and Margaret immediately wretched.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her chin and looking up to where she thought he stood, wishing she could see how terribly disappointed he was in the darkness.
“Tis nothing. You can blame it on Kenna.”
That had made her smile, and she felt herself reach out, her fingers so easily finding the navy wool of Alexander’s coat. It had been comforting to know that he had still wished to stand so close to her, even if she hadn’t known why.
Alexander then proceeded to help her to the house though, somewhere along the way, the sickness of her condition had given way to something more akin to madness, with everything spinning around her. Alexander laughed at her, telling her that that was normal, but Margaret was not so sure. It was an awful feeling, and yet how many men, her brother included, ran off to try and seek it?
Eventually, Margaret pointed out a door and Alexander led her into her room, finally removing his arm so that she could be settled into a chair. He poured a goblet of water and pressed it into her hand.
“Drink, it will make you feel better,” he said, and Margaret obliged.
A smile flicked across his face, fading just as quickly as he leaned back into his own chair and cast a look around her room.
With him both close and distracted, and with no one else there to catch her in the act, Margaret made a point of examining the features of her new husband with a bit more daring. He had been handsome yesterday, even with a coating of dust from days of travel pressing into his hair and coating his face. Now that he was clean, his brown hair slightly pushed back so she could fully see the sharp lines of his face, his looks were nothing short of dangerous.
Before she could avert her gaze, he looked back at her and smirked. “Like what you see?”
Startled, Margaret nearly dropped the goblet. Alexander’s hand shot toward her, grabbing her hand and the goblet, steadying both. Their eyes locked and he, after a few agonizing breaths, said, “For the record, I like what I see.”
Margaret pulled her hand free, leaving him holding the goblet, which he immediately put to his lips and drained.
“I should go to sleep,” Margaret said with what she hoped was force, though it sounded more like an unconfident mumble. She needed to distance herself from him, and she needed to do it now.
“Aye,” he said. “But first, if you donna mind, I have some things I’d like to say to you. No need to look so afraid, lass, tis an apology more than anything.”
“An apology?”
“Aye, for yesterday.”
“Oh,” Margaret said, sinking back down into her chair.
“I, ah, well, I suppose that the way you reacted to me yesterday, in the hallway, got me thinking about a few things,” he said, scratching at his head. “I didna wish to offend you, and for that I am sorry.”
Margaret nodded, ready to accept the apology before he held up a hand to stop her.
“I had a bit of arrogance, I must admit, when it came to women. I thought that my experiences gave me the ability to understand you lot without putting in the effort to learn of you as individuals, and, for that, I am also sorry. Truth is, I havena clue about what to do or what to say in order to make you happy. Or, at the very least,” he said, a blush rising on his cheeks, “tolerating of me.”
Margaret laughed at that, pressing her hand to her lips far too late to try and hide it. Alexander let out a few chuckles with her, dropping his head for a moment before he looked back up at her, wearing the very same fierce expression that had set her to chaos in the church. This time though, she did not want to run. She wanted to catch every moment of this expression.
“I want to try, though, to make you happy. And I ken now that I canna figure out someone as complicated and beautiful as you in an instant. So, I’ll not ask for you to give yourself to me, but I will ask you for your patience while I try to earn you.”
Margaret’s breath hitched. When had he come so close? She could feel each exhale on her cheek, and each inhale, well, that had to be what was pulling her closer to him. For she wasn’t moving on her own, was she?
Her lips fell against his, the burning that had been there since they had taken her vows now exploding into an all-consuming flame as his mouth opened to hers and their tongues tangled together. They hadn’t danced together at the feast, there hadn’t been time, but now it was as if they were, each of them swirling around the other, moving against each other through each dip, twirl, and step.
In one fluid motion, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her from her chair and onto his own lap, his mouth breaking from hers for only a moment, so he could press his lips to her neck. His hands found the laces at her back and she found herself suddenly released from the bodice, faster than she could have ever unlaced it herself.
Well, he did say he had experience, Margaret thought to herself. It unsettled her, knowing that the firmness now pressing into her was not uncharted territory but, as his hands ran along her sides and then descended beneath the hem of her skirt, she hardly cared. He was hers now.
Margaret let her hands rise up, her fingers entangling in his hair so that she could hold him to her. If she ever let him go, she was afraid she would lose him, even if they were forever bound before god and the law.
Had that been why Gavin had spent all of those years pulling at her hair? To try and keep her from leaving?
Gavin.
Margaret pushed back against Alexander’s chest, so hard that she nearly fell backwards out of the chair, and she would have if he hadn’t caught her.
His eyes were wide as he stared at her, his disheveled hair making him look even more shocked and confused as he looked down at her.
“I’m sorry,” Margaret said, gasping for air, “tis just happening so fast and—”
“No, no, tis I who should apologize, I just said I wouldna push you.”
They stared at each other silently for a few moments, each breathing heavily while they tried to regain their composure. Eventually, Alexander leaned back, pulling her back upright, and almost immediately forcing her from his lap.
They dressed for bed silently, as if any word they said now would only be testing their resolve. When they lay together on the mattress, Alexander scooted as far to one edge as he could get, while Margaret did the same on the opposite end.
“Goodnight, lass,” he said.
“Aye, goodnight,” Margaret replied, turning so he wouldn’t see her as she tried to push the tears back down, which was proving to be harder than it had ever been before.
4
Ann sipped slowly on the goblet of wine, her eyes scanning the remaining crowd in the pavilion. All that was left were the exceptionally drunk or, in her case, those who were not yet ready to part with those so rarely seen.
Ann’s brother had left the household in Thurso nearly five years ago, taking up a position with one of the Gunn lando
wners just outside of Braemore. Since then, she had only seen him on those rare occasions that brought the clan together. So far, those occasions had only been funerals. A wedding, with so much cheer around, was a nice change.
“More wine, Ann?” he asked, raising a pitcher and then frowning when she shook her head.
“You can stop worrying about Lady Gunn,” he said once his own goblet had been refilled. “She left with her new husband.”
“Yes,” Ann said, thinking back to the sight of Alexander leading a positively green Margaret from the pavilion. “Tis the circumstances, though.”
“Tis what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, his blue eyes flashing with amusement. “You tie your hair back so tightly, perhaps now is the time to let it down and celebrate, for once. I saw you dance with that other Mackay lad earlier. I think he may still be floating around the pavilion.”
Ann blushed. She had simply introduced herself to Jonah Mackay, Alexander’s younger brother, and he had taken that as an opening to pull her onto the dance floor. No one in the pavilion had let her live it down since. It had been one thing for Margaret to marry a Mackay, for at least that had been the order of the queen. But if Ann did it by choice, that would be an entirely different matter.
“John,” she growled in warning before he could insert another jibe, but her voice was not currently the one calling his name the loudest. Ann looked over her shoulder, and, sure enough, there was Gavin, striding toward their table with an unsettlingly empty expression.
“Gavin,” her brother said, clasping the other man’s arm in greeting. “How long has it been?”
Ann tuned out the exchange of pleasantries. Nothing Gavin said had ever been interesting to her. Until, that is, her brother asked, “Well, what does Laird Gunn have planned for ye and the rest after this? This wedding looked expensive. I imagine he needs someone to rustle up something extra to compensate.”
“Aye, one would think, but tis the opposite. He wants the dust to settle from this before we do anything more. Which is fine by me, for I have some personal matters to attend to.”
“Oh? What might that be?” John pressed.
“I need to right some wrongs.”
“Do ye need any help? Ach!” John yelped.
“Ye alright?” Gavin asked.
“Aye, just got bit by a spider or something,” John said, formulating the lie quickly.
But, when Ann looked up, Gavin’s eyes were on her, as if to make it clear that he knew it had been a sharp kick from a sister, and not a spider that had caused the disturbance.
“Well, thank you for the offer, but no. Since none of us are riding out anytime soon, I have a few friends who have already agreed to help. Though I thank ye for the offer.”
“Aye, well find me if ye change your mind,” John replied, this time moving his legs out of the way before Ann could attack.
Gavin nodded and grinned at them both before leaving the siblings to themselves once more.
“What is wrong with ye, wench?” John asked, pulling his leg up against his chest so he could rub his sore shin. “Do ye really still detest him so much that I canna even be polite with the man?”
Ann looked over to Gavin, who had seated himself with his usual group now, most of whom were so deeply in their cups that there was no way they would be able to stand. The remaining women in the pavilion were tracking him, whispering encouragements to each other until a few finally had the daring to approach him.
It was how it always was around Gavin. He wasn’t tall, but he was not short either. And, what he lacked in height, he made up for with a muscular physique and dark eyes that Ann had sometimes thought to be bewitched, for they had always trapped the gaze of any they managed to catch.
Gavin could woo any woman in this room, but he wouldn’t. The lad had been obsessed with Margaret since they had been children, chasing after her whenever he caught sight of her shiny, copper hair. Margaret, the sensible girl that she was, had built fortifications strong enough to withstand him. Ann had thought that was going to be enough for a lifetime. What she hadn’t realized was that the stones of that defense had been Margaret’s father.
Gavin had seen the very moment that the defense fell, crumbled into pieces after the passing of Margaret’s father. The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to give her quiet support, allowing her the choice of rebuilding the defenses once she was strong enough. But Gavin had never been a gentleman.
He had seen the opportunity to infiltrate Margaret’s heart, and he had taken it, forcing his way through with false promises and half-truths. Gavin had taken advantage of Margaret when she was most vulnerable, and, for that, Ann would never forgive him.
“He is not a good man,” Ann told her brother.
“Aye, maybe not, but he is one of Laird Gunn’s finest outriders.”
“Tis an awfully fancy term for cattle rustler,” Ann replied. “A criminal and a thief will always be a criminal and a thief once ye strip back the labels.”
“Perhaps, but Lady Margaret hadn’t seemed to mind what he was at his base.”
“That is because she didna ken what it was that he was doing when he left,” Ann grumbled.
Ann wished she hadn’t known what it was that Gavin did for Laird Gunn. She had found out on accident years ago, when she had overheard Gavin describing his latest adventure to Alan. She had been so surprised that she had dropped the tray she had been carrying, and the pair of boys had immediately found her and forced her into a pact of secrecy. She couldn’t tell anyone about his job, especially Margaret.
Ann now considered the pact to have been forced upon her, but, at the time, it had been nothing quite so dramatic. Ann had agreed because she had never seen a reason to talk about Gavin to anybody, let alone Margaret.
If she had ever imagined him to be capable of weaseling his way to her side, she never would have accepted. When Ann began hearing them throw about words such as love and marriage, Ann’s first reaction had been to hold in a wretch, and the second had been the realization that she simply had to reveal Gavin’s job to Margaret, promise or not. She tried on numerous occasions but, whenever Ann so much as spoke his name aloud, her friend would brighten so much that all of her nerves fled, the thought of bringing reckless hurt down upon her friend paralyzing.
John arched one brow. “She doesn’t ken?”
“Nah,” Ann replied, “and, at this point, there is no reason for her to ken.”
Ann thought about Margaret that evening, at her constant flushing and skittish nerves whenever Alexander so much as brushed her hand when reaching for his goblet. And Alexander, though Ann hadn’t noticed, had been deeply aware of Margaret, too. That had become apparent to Ann when she had looked over to see her friend on the edge of sickness and, before she could even rise from her seat, Alexander was at her side and rescuing her before anyone else could notice.
He may have been a Mackay, and he may have had some learning to do when it came to caring for Margaret’s unusually independent personality, but, if those were his only faults, then Ann would place her support behind him wholeheartedly.
And she would be damned if she let Gavin get in the way.
5
“Listen here, Alexander Mackay,” Rob said, pulling a bright red iron from the fire and holding it before Alexander’s face, so close that the heat of it made his nose run. “I expect you to be a good husband to that lass over there, or it shall be the queen you answer to.”
“What is wrong with you?” Alexander said, smiling and kicking Rob back.
“Queen Mary asked for me to make sure that the threat of her displeasure was clearly felt. And I,” he twirled the iron bravely in his hand, “happen to ken that she enjoys this method of torture.”
Alexander didn’t want to know how Rob knew that, so he just shook his head while his friend returned the iron to the fire. “Thank you for your assistance through this.”
“Aye, I am glad that I was able to help see you wed, as well as help you with other
matters,” Rob replied, patting one of the bags slung over his arm, where a bloodied sheet was folded up for transport to the queen. That morning, when Rob had come to collect it, he had caught Alexander waving the sheet in an effort to dry the blood he had just dabbed onto it from a small cut in the tip of his finger.
Surprisingly, Rob hadn’t teased him for it at all. Instead, he had just helped Alexander dry the sheet and vowed to keep it a secret between them.
“Well, Alexander, I expect to see you again soon,” Rob said.
“Aye, one would hope.”
“Make her beg for you,” he said with a wink, nudging Alexander’s arm once in finality before going to join his wife and child for their journey home to Dounie Castle.
“What a strange thing to say,” Alexander mumbled as he watched his friend mount up and begin their voyage up the hill.
“What is a strange thing to say?”
Alexander turned, and there was Margaret, her head cocked to one side with curiosity. Considering the state that she had been in last night, the worst thing about her appearance today was a twin set of dark circles beneath her eyes. The rest of her seemed perfectly well, with her even having the energy to rise early to go off somewhere in the house. When he asked her where, she said it was to have the maids do her hair properly. It seemed like an unnecessary amount of effort to put into a day of traveling, but he had known since she had written her letter to him that her image was of the utmost importance to her. So, since there was nothing harmed by a few braids in her hair, he said nothing.
What was proving harder to go unmentioned was her riding frock. The linen dress was dyed a shade of green so rich that it took a rich man to purchase the fabric. From there, it was neatly embroidered with white flowers that Alexander knew would be stained brown within minutes of riding down the dusty summertime road. When he had seen her emerge from behind her dressing screen in this dress, he tried to warn her that it would likely be ruined on their journey. She scoffed and looked away with a roll of her eyes, asking him if he expected her to wear peasant clothes instead.
Highlander's Torn Bride (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 2) Page 6
