The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Leah’s demeanor changed immediately.

  “Leah? Do ye know something?”

  The maid shook her head.

  “Please.”

  “I am sworn to secrecy, milady,” she said.

  It wouldna be fair to press the girl. “What can ye tell me?”

  “The great hall has been transformed into a lovely sight,” Leah said. “Wreaths of heather, candles, and bouquets of flowers for every lass. Laird Alex called for the silver to be cleaned and used for the feast table. The kitchens are bustling with twice the number of servants—Cook feels like a king, I think. He’s never felt so important. There’s boar and venison, even a lamb for the high table. The sweetest wine and best ale have been brought up from the cellar. All of the captains and their families have been invited, and there will be meat for all of the tenants and servants. Such generosity has not been seen here in a long time, Lady Keely.”

  Leah had described a joyous occasion, not a forced marriage between two strangers. Not her wedding feast. It couldna be. Why would Alex go to such lengths to please her? Then she remembered—Jamie was the likely groom. All of the fuss was over him. He deserved a memorable wedding. It dinna matter who the bride was.

  The idea of spending her life with Jamie dinna disappoint her as much as it should. He was young and strong, well-thought of, handsome, a member of the council, and Alex’s closest kinsman. The association with Alex did bother her. Every day for the rest of her life she’d have to see Alex—eat at his table, speak with him, listen to Jamie’s stories about him, eventually meet the woman he’d fall in love with and marry, and children would follow … many, she guessed. Alex’s virility and passion had scarred Keely for life.

  Any man she loved after would fall short of her expectations. If she could even love again. She wandered across the room to the hearth. She studied the beautiful tapestry crafted by Alex’s mother. It captured the beauty and savagery of the MacKay holdings in every masterful stitch, down to the tartan-clad warriors guarding the north face of the keep. Keely closed her eyes and tried to imagine where she fit in, if her future could be intertwined with the scene depicted in the tapestry.

  Could she be happy here? Accept being married to the laird’s heir until Alex produced his own son? Would she finally love again? Accept a second chance at life and grace? Because until now, she had been living in the shadows, hidden away at Dunrobin Castle, a secret even her sire hadn’t known. Aye, he knew she was safe, but her location had been withheld. In the five years she’d been away, only three missives had been sent to her father. There’d never been a reply, only a verbal acknowledgement that he understood she was alive.

  In this moment, Alex was offering her an olive branch, the right to walk free again, to be a wife, perhaps a mother, and to live as a MacKay. She looked back at Leah who sat patiently on the bed still.

  “Is Jamie my intended?”

  “Lady Keely, please doona force me to answer any questions about who the laird has chosen for ye.”

  Even if she could stomach the notion of marrying again—she struggled with what followed … the marriage bed. Heat spiraled up her body. Something so sacred should be shared with a man she loved. A man she chose, not someone Alex, her father, or anyone else designated.

  “The gown.” She attempted to focus on something else. “Show it to me, please.”

  A slow smile warmed Leah’s face as she got up and retrieved the delicate dress from the back of a chair. The maid held it up. “The color suits ye.”

  Aye, light green wool with silver threading and silver beads. There were matching slippers on the floor. “Where is the bag I travelled with?”

  “I put yer garments away already.”

  “I had jewels.”

  “Aye. In the chest over there.” The maid pointed to the far wall where two trunks were situated.

  The bag she’d managed to escape with had everything in the world she cared about, including an emerald and gold necklace and ring from her ma. If there was ever an occasion to wear the heirlooms, now would be an appropriate time. “Please bring the jewelry basket to me.”

  “But, milady, there is no need. Laird Alex has supplied a wedding gift for ye.” Leah put the dress down and hurried to the table. She opened a box. “I have never seen anything so beautiful before.”

  Keely peered over her shoulder. Six breathtaking pieces awaited her approval, a necklace, ring, bracelet, brooch, and two hair combs. Each contained a brilliant ruby surrounded by gold and silver knotwork, set on gold. “This is a mistake, I am sure.” Keely eyed the maid. “Return the gifts to Alex. Tell him I canna accept such expensive things.”

  “Nay,” the maid insisted. “I wouldna dare. These are exquisite, Lady Keely, brought here from Constantinople.”

  Keely snorted. Why would Alex be travelling with women’s jewelry? And where had he gotten the gown? Surely these were gifts meant for his favorite concubine. Jealousy burned inside of her, but she dismissed it. What Alex did and who he did it with, dinna matter. Her future husband waited belowstairs. A fateful decision must be made, either accept her place as a MacKay or fight for her freedom.

  She trekked to the narrow window and looked about. Dusk was settling in. The hills surrounding the keep were in bloom. Twas the season of possibilities. Nature always renewed itself in the summer, so why shouldna Keely do the same? She hadna slept well in days, and that exhaustion had settled bone-deep. The desire to fight against Alex was fading. And if she left there, there were a limited number of places she could go.

  The Sutherlands were out of the question. What about Clan Gunn? Or the Sinclairs? Perhaps the MacLeods? She adored Elizabeth MacLeod, the laird’s youngest daughter. Nay—her presence would stir up trouble after she overstayed her welcome. The more she thought about it, even returning to her sire’s house seemed impossible.

  The convent. Only for a brief moment did she consider herself worthy of becoming a nun.

  A knock on the chamber door startled Keely.

  Leah hurried to open it.

  “Tis time,” a man said.

  “Lady Keely isna ready.”

  “But Laird Alex…”

  “Can wait a little longer,” the maid finished for him and closed the door. She walked back to the table. “Lady Keely, what will ye have me do?”

  There was another choice, one that required utter humility. She could request a meeting with Alex and beg for mercy—confess her deepest feelings for him. If he knew how she felt, surely, he wouldna marry her off to another man. He must care about her, he even told her he couldna imagine her with another man. But what kind of future could they share if it was built on regrets, anger, and lies?

  She suddenly felt hot and her hands started to shake. Taking a last look about the bedchamber, she knew there was no alternative but to marry. “Make me a beautiful bride.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Low on patience, Alex kept close watch of the entrance to the great hall. He finished off another cup of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Keely should have been there by now. Aye, women were afforded extra time, especially on their wedding night, but he suspected she was doing this on purpose to prove a point.

  A hundred guests waited with him, mainly his captains and their families, his cousins, Petro, and the soldiers from his ship. The general mood reflected excitement and curiosity about the bride, for everyone knew Keely had no idea who waited to marry her. A necessary tactic to keep her from trying to escape. The lass loathed him and would never consent to wed him.

  He’d celebrate their nuptials, drink and dance with her, and when it came time to go abovestairs, he’d do so with eagerness. She’d belonged to him from the day she pledged her heart and soul to him. And by divine right, according to Father Michael, Alex had been brought home from Constantinople to claim her.

  The lutes and harp filled the room with sweet sound, as did the laughter of his guests. But none of it could soothe the beast within him. The celebration couldna resur
rect the joy he’d felt all those years ago when he was a lad in love. Keely had consumed him body and soul with one smile and words of devotion. Her raven hair and blue eyes bewitched him then, and if he wasn’t vigilant, could do so now. For the lady had the face of an angel but the heart of a witch.

  Just as he was about to take up another cup of ale, the guards assigned to her chamber door appeared at the entrance of the great hall. Behind them stood Father Michael and Leah. A head taller than most men, Alex still strained to catch sight of his bride through the throng. When the guards finally stepped aside, a lass handed Leah a bouquet of flowers, and Father Michael took up his position at the front of the room.

  Alex couldna breathe after he spotted Keely in the gown he’d carefully chosen. The soft material clung to her curves, the ruby necklace sparkled in the torchlight at her throat, and the red stones in the combs she wore in her unbound, waist-length hair captivated him. Everything about her made him wild and dangerous. But nothing pleased him more than the idea that she was about to be bound to him by the holiest of oaths in front of enough witnesses that she could never challenge the validity of their marriage. The little bird had been caught and her wings clipped.

  Father Michael silenced the musicians, and Alex strutted across the room, full of pride and confidence. He stopped in front of the priest. The crowd parted to let Leah and Keely closer.

  “Harlot!” someone screamed.

  “Stop this unholy alliance,” another called.

  “Ye canna marry yer brother’s wife!”

  Madness unraveled inside Alex, and he drew his sword. He’d silence their contemptuous tongues forever. Angus’s death hadn’t served as a strong enough deterrent. There was plenty of room on the outer wall for more pikes and heads.

  The agitators had gained access to the great hall through the main doors. And as Alex got closer, he recognized several of the men—Angus’s supporters.

  Mathe and Jamie were at his side, clearing a path through the crowd.

  “We demand justice!” the obvious leader said. “Come back to Christ, Laird Alex, pick a chaste wife from among our daughters.”

  “Shut yer bloody mouth, Levi,” Alex spat as he bludgeoned the man with the hilt of his sword.

  Levi stumbled backward, his brow bleeding profusely. “I am unarmed, but unafraid to die for what is right.”

  Alex handed his weapon to Jamie. “And now I am unarmed.”

  Blood blurred Levy’s vision, but he dinna relent. “That woman…” he pointed at Keely who had made her way to the doors. “Is an abomination. A witch. She is responsible for Laird John’s death.”

  Alex growled like an animal and lunged. He knocked Levi off his feet and they rolled, Alex landing on top of him. Straddling his chest, he’d give the naysayer one chance to take back his words.

  “Ye have a death wish?” Alex asked.

  “I have the truth.” Levi spat in his face, which unleashed Alex’s rage.

  He punched him repeatedly—crushing his nose and breaking his jaw. “Marbhphaisg ort!” Alex would gladly provide Levi’s death shroud.

  “Alex!” Jamie tried to pull him off Levi.

  But Alex wouldna stop.

  “Laird Alex, the man is half dead already,” Father Michael admonished. “Please, for the sake of yer bride, show restraint.”

  As he raised his fist, Keely’s tiny hand covered his. “Alex.”

  He gazed up at her, sure he looked like a berserker covered in his enemy’s blood.

  “Ye have defended my honor. Let Jamie deal with him now.”

  Something about the way she gazed at him, the soft but firm sound of her voice, and the fact that she’d maintained her composure in the face of such violence on her wedding night, allowed him to think clearly again. He’d stop for her and no one else.

  Alex slowly stood up.

  “Get the bastard out of my sight,” he said.

  Jamie signaled for two other guards to assist him.

  Once the men were removed, Alex turned his full attention to Keely. She seemed unbelievably calm for what she’d just witnessed. He bowed out of embarrassment for not safeguarding her properly. No woman should be exposed to such violence. “I am sorry for what those men accused ye of, Keely. Are ye all right?”

  She dinna say anything for a long moment, but peered across the great hall, taking in the decorations and the finely set high table. “I am unharmed, Alex. But something troubles me more than anything those men could say. Are ye my groom?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why dinna ye tell me at the loch?”

  In a rare moment of tenderness, Alex caressed her cheek. “We were interrupted, remember?”

  “Ye had plenty of time to disclose such an important detail about tonight.”

  “I wish I hadna been so selfish, Keely. Sometimes my temper gets the best of me, as it does any man who’s been wronged.”

  “So ye wanted to hurt me?” Her voice was tremulous.

  “Nay,” he said. “I wanted to spend some time with ye, see if ye’d changed yer mind about staying here. Tis better to have a willing bride.”

  “I know this isna very easy for either of us.”

  “But we are both here.”

  “Aye,” she said. “I had two choices, accept this marriage or escape. I’m tired of running.”

  “I canna promise ye love, lass, but I can give ye comfort and pleasure—and protect ye.”

  “Ye doona love me?”

  Why did she have to gaze at him with those lovely blue eyes at a moment like this? Most men would lie about their feelings. But he dinna want to build their marriage on falsehoods. “I care about ye, lass.”

  “Tis a start.”

  “Aye. Give me yer hand, Keely.”

  He twined his fingers through hers, ready to stand before the priest and exchange vows.

  “Yer tunic is ruined,” Keely pointed out.

  Alex looked down at his clothes. Aye, he looked the part of a bloodthirsty Highland laird. All the better, for he must deal with the other men who had accompanied Levi into the hall. “If ye’ll be patient, there is one more thing I must do.” She nodded, and he turned his attention to the waiting offenders. “Rebels,” he said. “How dare ye disturb the peace in my home.”

  The six men dropped to their knees.

  “Please,” one of the men begged, “have mercy on us.”

  “We dinna mean to hurt anyone, milord,” another said.

  “Mercy…” two more cried in unison.

  He scoffed. “Did ye show mercy?”

  Silence enveloped the great hall.

  “I willna tolerate such behavior. Ye falsely accused my bride and dishonored the clan with yer filthy lies. Ye screamed for justice. And ye’ll have it. Mathe!”

  “Milord?” The captain stood at attention.

  “Bind these men and take them to a cell. Let them rot.”

  “Aye.”

  “After I am married, perhaps we shall sacrifice them to whatever god or devil ye want. For they are not worthy of living another day.”

  The crowd gasped. The days of ruling this clan with a light hand was over. John had done them a great disservice. Alex loved his people: he’d die for any man, woman, or child, but he wouldna tolerate uprisings of any sort.

  “Father Michael,” Alex said. “Get on with the nuptials.” No more delays. Alex watched his beautiful bride with renewed interest. She’d shown grace and courage.

  Alex had instructed the priest to keep the ceremony brief. There must be no misunderstandings. The vows would include her promise to be submissive. And in turn, he’d protect her, always.

  “Lord Alexander Joseph MacKay, repeat after me. With the Almighty as our witness, and in front of these good people, I do take Keely Marie Oliphant as my wife, pledge my faith in body and spirit, promise to be loyal and kind, pledge my strength and goods in sickness and health, in whatever condition the Lord will place me, until in death we do part.”

  Alex dinna hesitate. He’d
have this woman—to tame like he would the wildest mare.

  Keely held his gaze as she recited her vow.

  “With the Almighty as our witness, I do take Alexander Joseph MacKay as my husband, pledge my faith in body and spirit, promise to honor him as laird and master, to remain obedient, and swear fealty to Clan MacKay. I pledge my life in sickness and health, in whatever condition the Lord will place me, until in death we do part.”

  Alex slipped a delicate gold band on Keely’s finger, sealing their union.

  After a short prayer, the priest tied their right hands together with a strip of MacKay tartan, then laid his hands on their heads. “May the Almighty keep and bless ye forever.”

  The crowd cheered.

  “Ye may kiss the bride, Laird Alex,” Father Michael announced.

  Alex tugged Keely into his arms, not giving her time to think. He captured her mouth with his, and to his delight, her lips parted. Their tongues swirled together in urgent need. His grip tightened about her, and she leaned into him, kissing him back—threatening his tight control. Nay, the lass wouldna steal his sanity.

  He pulled back, desperate to taste her again. “Aye, lass,” he muttered. “Tis a promise of what’s to come. What should have happened long ago. I will make ye a woman tonight, Keely. And if I’m blessed, maybe plant my first son inside ye.” She made his pikk as hard as a steel rod.

  The musicians began to play again, and Alex steered his bride to the high table. “Drink and eat,” he suggested warmly. “Ye’ll need yer strength this eve, and every night in the foreseeable future.”

  Nothing felt real. Even with her groom smiling at her—she still couldna wrap her mind around it. The man she had always loved, wept for, missed every day of her five-year absence, was her husband now. A dream come true, with one striking difference—he dinna love her. Hearing those words come out of his mouth broke her heart but dinna dissuade her in the least. She’d willingly taken him as her husband. That’s how it always should have been. His denial only made her more determined to win his heart back.