Kilts Ahoy!

by Markland, Anna

“Ye’ll be all right, lass,” he said softly as Bo licked her face. “Let’s get this wet thing off yer head.”

  “’Twas ye nigh on killed me,” emerged from her raw throat. She was relieved beyond measure to be free of the waterlogged snood but afraid she might drown again in the depths of his blue gaze. His beard looked so soft, she was seized by a peculiar urge to touch it.

  “But then I saved ye,” he replied with a chuckle seconds before he was dragged away and she succumbed to the darkness, Bo’s frantic bark ringing in her ears.

  *

  Soaking wet and held in the grip of two burly MacCray clansmen, Marshall inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the lead weight lodged in his gut. The attempt to reconcile the two clans couldn’t have gone any further awry. He scowled at Brosnan and Connor, both now lashed to the mast of his birlinn, looking sheepish—as well they might. At least his vessel was still afloat, as was the slightly damaged MacCray boat moored beside it.

  He was enormously relieved he’d rescued the bonny lass but his relief was short-lived when a fist landed in his belly. He tried to protect himself from the second blow, but his captors held him fast. If this carried on, he’d have the added problem of broken ribs. “Ye’d beat an unarmed mon who canna defend himself?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Ye nigh on capsized us,” his assailant hissed. “And drowned our sister.”

  Marshall recognized him as one of the redheads from the birlinn. “I notice ye didna jump in to save her. ’Tisna my fault ye came too close. Did ye nay see the white flag?”

  “Aye, we did,” the second redhead growled, arms folded across his chest.

  Marshall filled his lungs. “Permit me to explain the significance of the flag, since ye dinna seem to understand.”

  His sarcasm earned him another blow. These young men were understandably angry, and there was no point alienating them further. “I came in the hopes of speaking with yer laird,” he rasped, banking on the belief neither of the twins was the chieftain. “And ye might want to see to yer sister instead of battering an emissary who came in peace.”

  Bossy Boots

  Teagan slowly regained her wits, at first not understanding why she was lying on cold stones, soaking wet. She nigh on swooned again as her ordeal came rushing back. She was alone. Perhaps she had died. However, some inconsiderate wretch continued to shout and Bo was barking loudly. Gingerly, she levered up on her elbows, wondering where Ethan and Lachlan had disappeared to.

  All the men seemed to be clustered around…

  Good grief! They were beating the brave soul who’d rescued her, despite Bo’s protests. It was as if the dog realized the man had saved her. “Stop, stop,” she yelled hoarsely, struggling to stand in sopping wet clothing and boots.

  All eyes turned to her. Ethan broke away from the pack and hurried to help her rise. “Dinna worry, Teagan, we’re making sure he pays for what he did to ye.”

  Summoning her last ounce of strength, she shoved him. “Idiot. At least he had the courage to jump in after me. Ye brought our birlinn too close to his. Even I could see that.”

  She stopped short when she realized everyone was gaping at her, including her savior. She must be a sight with tangled wet hair and the sodden riding habit clinging to her body. What must he think of her bedraggled state? And of a clan that beat defenseless men?

  Guilt crept into her heart; a lass shouldn’t be ashamed of her clan. He was an enemy, after all. “Did ye find out who he is, and why he’s come?”

  “Marshall Robson’s my name, my lady,” he rasped, chuckling when Bo planted his front paws on his chest. “Brother to our clan chieftain. I came to parley with yer laird. I apologize for the mishap but ’twasna entirely my fault. Might I suggest someone fetch ye a blanket?”

  Teagan had grown up with seven brothers, none of whom had ever exhibited courtly manners in her presence. Unsure if this breathtakingly handsome stranger was flirting with her, she was nevertheless glad when a scowling Ethan retrieved a blanket from his birlinn and settled it on her shoulders.

  Her clansmen clearly considered Marshall Robson a threat, yet she detected no malice in him. Indeed, something about his deep voice, and the glint in his eyes—blue, if she remembered correctly…

  Crivvens! Standing around in wet clothing was taking a toll on her common sense. “Release him. If he wants to speak with Beathan, we’ll escort him to the castle.”

  Lachlan scowled. “But…”

  She nestled deeper into the blanket and glared at her brother. “He came under a white flag. Clan MacCray isna some bloodthirsty tribe of barbarians who murder messengers. Fetch my horse, and bring our visitor a blanket.”

  She stalked away feeling very proud of herself. It was time she knocked some sense into her siblings. It occurred to her that Marshall Robson looked even more handsome when he grinned.

  *

  Freed from the grip of his captors, Marshall watched the MacCray lass as she stalked up the hill to her horse. He inhaled deeply as he considered her name. Teagan. Teagan. He liked it.

  Even soaked to the skin she was beautiful, the wet riding habit accentuating every tempting curve. Clearly, she had the measure of the two brothers. Perhaps she was spoiled after all, though he was relieved her bossy attitude had prevented further damage to his ribs.

  He accepted the blanket thrust into his hands and furled it around his shoulders, not looking forward to walking to Castle MacCray in waterlogged boots.

  Mounted on the white horse he recognized, Teagan shouted to her brothers, “Let him have yer mount, Ethan. Ye can share with Lachlan.”

  Sulking mightily, the one called Ethan handed the reins to Marshall.

  “What about my men?” he asked. “Ye canna leave them tied up.”

  “They might flee,” came the retort.

  “Untie them,” Teagan insisted. “They willna leave without their captain.”

  Amused by the take-charge attitude of a lass who’d come close to drowning, Marshall retrieved his sword and plaid from his birlinn as Brosnan and Connor were cut free. He mounted the borrowed horse, acknowledging it wouldn’t be an easy ride in wet trews. However, things might turn out well despite a near-catastrophic beginning. The notion brought no joy. He hadn’t expected Teagan MacCray to be so…desirable.

  She was worthy of a better husband than Elgin.

  Filled with an unwelcome sense of doom, he nudged the horse in line behind a lass he could quite easily take to his bed. Waking up every morning with those chestnut tresses wrapped…

  He cursed under his breath when his manhood saluted the vision. Now, the ride would be even more uncomfortable. However, her dog seemed to have taken a liking to him. He considered it a good omen.

  *

  Teagan came to the conclusion her wet clothing was responsible for the feverish chill racing up and down her spine. But the reason for tingling nipples and a peculiar warmth blossoming in a very private place eluded her.

  She was acutely aware of the broad-shouldered Highlander riding behind her. He was the first man she’d ever encountered who stirred the interest of her heart and—if she was honest with herself—he was also the reason for the wanton sensations in her loins.

  She couldn’t account for Bo’s oddly disloyal behavior as he happily loped along beside a stranger.

  Wondering what Marshall Robson intended to discuss with Beathan, she toyed with the idea of dropping back to ride alongside him, but the track was too narrow, and the twins would panic. They’d caused enough trouble.

  It must have something to do with ending the feud. That would be a good thing. Dadaidh always said it was better to marry outside the clan. There must be many eligible young men in Castle Robson if Marshall was any indication, though he was the one who’d saved her, and there was something about him that drew her. But he probably had a wife, a thought she found stupidly depressing.

  Bo bounded ahead when they neared the bridge. He would probably be fine crossing by himself but, after the near-catastrophic events of the
day…

  “Bo,” she yelled, hurrying to dismount. She nigh on fell off her horse when Marshall exclaimed, “I’ve often wondered what his name was.”

  Spark

  Marshall hoped Teagan would pay no heed to what he’d blurted out. Thinking to provide a distraction, he followed her lead and dismounted as the dog stopped dead in his tracks, turned and came barreling at him. To his surprise, the hound gave his mistress only a brief woof before again landing his front paws on Marshall’s chest and licking his face.

  The beast growled contentedly when he rubbed its ears. “Ye nigh on knocked me over, puppy,” he exclaimed. “Ye’re nay as fierce as ye look.” Laughing, he turned to Teagan, not sure what to make of the puzzled expression on her face. “He’s a fine hound.”

  “Clearly, Bo likes ye,” she replied, stroking the animal’s back.

  He toyed with the idea of mentioning the coincidence that he’d named his horse Beau, but Ethan shouted at them from halfway across a stone bridge. “Ye’re wasting time.”

  “Aye,” Lachlan agreed.

  “They dinna have any patience,” Teagan told him with a naughty grin.

  Marshall moved his hands to scratch under the dog’s chin at the exact moment she did the same thing. She withdrew her hand quickly when their fingers touched, but he was sure she’d felt the spark.

  Though their eyes met for only a moment, Marshall recognized female interest in a woman’s gaze when he saw it. And those beguiling eyes! Were they green or brown? The arousal he’d successfully willed away sprang to life again. Thankfully, the dog’s lanky body concealed his problem and Castle MacCray was in sight.

  *

  Teagan had no experience with men but was fairly certain she’d seen masculine interest in Marshall Robson’s blue eyes. The spark that passed between them when their fingers touched had already sent winged creatures fluttering in her belly.

  Perplexed by the peculiar sensations coursing through her suddenly overheated body, she remounted Geal and called Bo to follow across the bridge, uncertain how to proceed once they reached the castle.

  She was desperate to get out of the wet habit and boots. A long, hot bath would revive her spirits. However, Ethan and Lachlan were clearly antagonistic, which wouldn’t augur well for any discussion between Marshall and Beathan.

  After his brave attempts to begin dialogue, Robson might not even be permitted to meet the MacCray laird.

  Her bedraggled appearance would draw the curious eyes of others they might encounter. The twins would tell the tale to their own advantage if she wasn’t present.

  It was clear she had to speak on Marshall’s behalf and encourage talks to end the feud. According to Master Halkirk, there were no other clans in the near vicinity except, of course, the Sinclairs to the north, but they were much too high and mighty to allow a MacCray to marry into their tribe. The solution to following her father’s advice to wed outside her own clan lay a mere stone’s throw away in Castle Robson.

  *

  Marshall kept his gaze on the MacCray stronghold as he rode slowly over the stone bridge. The docile horse was obviously used to the thunder of the waves crashing below, but he found it unnerving. His own fortress teetered on the edge of the cliffs, but Teagan’s home could only be reached by crossing the unprotected narrow bridge high above the treacherous rocks. It had perhaps been a marvelous tactical advantage in times of past sieges. He hoped he would never have to make use of the knowledge.

  He’d lived his whole life within sight of this fortification, yet it wasn’t what he expected. From a distance, it appeared to be a squat, characterless building, which certainly didn’t have the same imposing height as his home. However, what he’d been able to see was just one side of the sprawling complex.

  He slid off his horse in the courtyard. Teagan glared at her brothers, jostling each other as they disappeared inside the entryway. Neither had thought to help her dismount. It appeared she wasn’t so spoiled after all.

  He reached up and risked putting his hands on her waist. “With yer permission,” he said, delighted to see her smile return.

  She put her hands on his shoulders. “I thank ye,” she replied as he lifted her down.

  They stood face to face longer than was appropriate, as if neither wanted to let go of the other. Intoxicated by her nearness, Marshall was tempted to crush her to his needy body and coax her to be his bride. Sanity returned when Bo bared his teeth and growled.

  “He’s jealous,” Marshall quipped, offering his arm. “Will he let me escort ye?”

  Blushing fiercely, she nodded. “He kens ye dinna mean me harm.”

  Up to that point, Marshall had more or less forgotten the uncomfortable wet clothing, but he suddenly felt the chill. He was about to open negotiations to wed this incredible lass to his self-centered brother. What greater harm could he do to her?

  Chatelaine Material

  Teagan was glad she’d accompanied Marshall when Beathan appeared in the entryway, his red face contorted in anger as he glared at her arm linked with Robson’s. Ethan and Lachlan followed closely behind.

  Furious the twins had quickly misrepresented the day’s events and perhaps already doomed peace talks to fail, Teagan held fast to her escort’s strong arm and raised her other hand. “I beg ye, my laird. Dinna say a word until ye’ve heard the whole story.”

  It was something she’d itched to say to him many times. Beathan didn’t often show the willingness to listen that their father was known for.

  “I ken what happened,” he snarled in reply. “Yer brothers told me.”

  Bo growled.

  Contradicting Beathan was unfamiliar and possibly dangerous territory but, if she didn’t, Marshall might be in real danger. “Did they tell ye this mon came in peace under a white flag? And that the accident was mostly Ethan’s fault, or Lachlan’s, or whichever of the two was…”

  “Enough,” Beathan yelled.

  Bo bared his impressive teeth, but the hesitation in her brother’s eyes gave Teagan courage.

  “Aye, enough of this inhospitable behavior,” she agreed. “Laird Beathan MacCray, may I introduce Marshall, brother of the laird of Clan Robson, and the hero who saved me from drowning.”

  *

  Marshall was loath to let go of Teagan’s arm. He’d felt her tremble as she defied her laird—something he suspected was an unusual occurrence. However, Beathan MacCray was clearly angry and there was nothing to be gained from antagonizing the giant.

  He unhooked his arm and stepped forward, hand extended in friendship. “Laird MacCray, I thank ye for agreeing to speak with me. I’d hoped we could sit down and discuss matters of mutual benefit, but I hadna expected to arrive in wet togs.”

  He feared Beathan was going to refuse to shake his hand but, after a moment’s hesitation, the MacCray laird accepted the gesture. His firm grip assured Marshall he was dealing with a decisive man. Teagan was behind him but he had a feeling her facial expression and what sounded like a low growl helped convince her brother.

  “Perhaps we could demonstrate the famous MacCray hospitality,” she suggested. “A guest chamber should be prepared for our guest, and dry clothing found.”

  Marshall was afraid she’d gone too far when Beathan inhaled deeply, but then his host smiled. “I agree. See to it, Ethan.”

  The urge to turn and grin at his patroness was powerful, but he nodded his acknowledgment. “Again, I thank ye, Laird MacCray.”

  “Come to my study when ye’re ready,” Beathan replied before glaring at Teagan. “And go get yerself changed, young lady.”

  She made no reply but Marshall heard her retreating footsteps. It appeared she’d decided not to annoy her brother any further.

  Following in the wake of the sulking Ethan, Marshall mused on Castle Robson’s great need for the touch of a strong lass like Teagan. His Aunty Moira did her best, but she wasn’t the take-charge woman his mother had been. A lifelong spinster, she’d always been flighty, but had grown more absent-minded
and sometimes downright peculiar as time went on.

  *

  As the warmth of the water gradually penetrated the chill in Teagan’s bones, she barely listened to Katie’s dire ranting about the dangers of the sea. Bo lay beside the tub, his paws over his ears. The maid was clearly upset by her mistress’ near drowning, not surprising given her own tragic history.

  “I’m sorry, I didna fall in on purpose.”

  The lass sniffled back her tears. “Ye were lucky there was a brave mon willing to jump in and rescue ye.”

  Teagan closed her eyes and leaned back, remembering vividly the euphoric moment she’d felt a strong arm around her body and known she wasn’t going to die after all. “Aye,” she whispered. “Brave, indeed.”

  And handsome.

  And kind.

  And easy to talk to.

  And her dog liked him…

  She sat up abruptly, splashing water onto her dog who got to his feet and shook off the droplets.

  He’d seen Bo before, which must mean…

  He’d watched her ride along the cliffs.

  The thought was unsettling, yet exciting. A man she was attracted to seemed to be interested in her. There was something about Marshall Robson that made her feel like a woman. It was exhilarating. His strength had given her the courage to act like the chatelaine of Castle MacCray instead of a wee lass intimidated by her older brothers.

  Dressed for the Occasion

  Marshall wasn’t surprised when no bath was forthcoming, but appreciated the modern décor of the clean, spacious chamber Ethan grudgingly led him to. It wasn’t overly ostentatious but Clan MacCray was apparently prosperous. The towel brought by a servant was of good quality and the counterpane on the large bed looked new. He had to admit it was a more comfortable chamber than any reserved for guests who visited his own home. Not that many dropped by a remote castle in the wilds of Caithness!

  Having stripped off his salt-stiffened raiment and dried his body, he was bent over in the process of rubbing his hair when a freckle-faced lass entered without knocking. She was dressed in servant’s garb, though she looked too young to be in service. He straightened when she squealed, quickly wrapping the towel around his waist.