Claimed By The Highlander (The Highlands Warring Clan Mactaggarts Book 1)

by Anne Morrison

  She was silent after that, but Reade could feel how painfully straight she sat, as if there was a rod of steel pushed down her spine. It was impossible to keep apart on Finnian's back but she tried, and every time she swayed toward him, she pulled away as if she had been burned. Reade swallowed hard, because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had every right to her rage. The only thing he could pray for was that someday, she would forgive him and allow him to make it up to her.

  The sun was setting by the time they came through the last pass, and despite the misery that Reade knew Elizabeth was in, there was still a part of him that watched her as they topped the last rise. As they came into Glen Farren, the seat of the MacTaggart lands, the final rays of the setting sun lit up the valley, and he could feel as much as hear Elizabeth gasp.

  Glen Farren rested between two low mountains, green as an emerald and rich as a king. The sun sparkled over the river that ran down from Crinnan's Moutain, and dotting the land was the crofts, farms that each clan member tilled and kept. It was home, and to Reade, who had traveled down the length of the isles, there was no finer place in all the world.

  “It's beautiful,” Elizabeth murmured, and a smile tugged at Reade's lips. In that moment, the beauty of his home made her forget her justified anger at him, the trouble she was in, and he felt his heart swell.

  “Aye. Welcome to Glen Farren, Elizabeth.”

  She was silent, but as they rode down into the glen, he wondered if she was easier against him, if perhaps there was some kind of soothed place in her that might someday turn into forgiveness. Reade knew that it was likely too much to hope for, but still, he hoped.

  * * *

  Reade could feel the moment that Elizabeth saw Doone Castle, a low and dark edifice of stone and power set hard by the river.

  “Why are we going there?” she asked, and this time, she spoke loudly enough for one of the men riding by to hear her.

  “Can't welcome the laird's younger brother back in a cow pen, can we, lass?” he said. It was friendly enough, but Reade suddenly wanted to reach over and drag the man off his horse for it.

  She had to find out sooner or later, and if I am being honest, it should have been sooner. Still, I wish she might have learned it from me.

  Elizabeth stiffened against him again.

  “The laird's younger brother?” she hissed. “Is that who you are?”

  “Aye. Aidan's been the clan head since our father died in the fighting at Benton Ford.”

  “You didn't tell me!”

  “I wasn't going to go shouting my name and my line for every English sellsword and revenge-seeking soldier to find, was I?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am neither a sellsword nor a revenge-seeking soldier. Why didn't you tell me?”

  Reade had no answer to that. He could have offered up a number of responses, ranging from protecting his own identity to not wanting to put her in danger, but at the end of the day, they were more excuses than anything else, and she would know it.

  “Because you didn't trust me,” she said finally, answering her own question, and Reade swallowed hard. She hadn't said it angrily. She hadn't said it with tears in her throat. Instead, Elizabeth had said it as if she were simply learning a new fact about the world, something to do with sums, perhaps or with geography. Scotland was north of England, the water of the sea was salty, and Reade didn't trust Elizabeth.

  The ride to Doone Castle seemed to take forever, but then the gates were thrown open, and Reade wished that it had gone on a little longer. Now there were plenty of people who were pleased to see him, and never one to shy away from a reason to celebrate, Aidan ordered one of the large shoats killed for his brother's return.

  As far as the clan knew, Reade had been away to search for new skilled craftsmen to bring back, and there were plenty of questions about that. Only Aidan had known of his mission to the south, and more than once, he could feel Elizabeth's eyes on him speculatively. He wondered if she was thinking of what kind of damage she could do him, or whether she was simply thinking how strange it was to see this other side of him.

  Doone Castle was where he had grown up, and despite everything else, a part of Reade felt as if everything might be all right now. He kept Elizabeth close at first, but then Mairi, the old woman who had acted as chatelaine since his own mother had died, swept her away.

  “The poor girl looks like she's been on the road since roads were made. Go on and look to yourself, Reade MacTaggart, and I'll look after her.”

  Then Elizabeth was gone, and Reade was dragged into the well-wishes of what felt like most of the clan dwelling in the glen. They were probably as eager to see him as they were to eat at the celebration of his return, and Reade allowed himself to bask in the love and well-wishes of the people who were his family by blood, marriage, or inclination.

  The meal wasn't ready until after dark, but Reade had the place of honor next to Aidan. The food was simple, but hearty, what Reade had longed for in his time to the South, but he didn't want to eat until Elizabeth was within sight again.

  There was a slight hush at the table when Mairi brought Elizabeth in again, and Reade's heart jumped up into his throat. He wasn't sure if he could speak if he wanted to.

  She had had a bath obviously, and her golden hair was combed out to rest lightly on her shoulders. Instead of the muddied dress she’d worn, Mairi had found for her a gown dyed sweet blue with woad, and it made her eyes gleam by the light of the torch and the hearth that ran the length of the long room.

  If he had been thinking, he would have thought to find her afraid, cringing away from what was his betrayal. Instead, she walked into the room with her spine straight, and her face as still as a statue’s. Mairi, who had always been one for an occasion, escorted her to the empty seat next to Reade, and Elizabeth sat down with the grace and dignity of a queen.

  It was only then, seeing her slim and lovely there, that Reade realized that the MacTaggarts thought he had brought home a bride, and as the whispers and well-wishes started, he felt as if a knife of regret was being pressed between his ribs.

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  chapter 30

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  Elizabeth felt as if she had been floating above her body for most of the day. She could still feel the rage that was echoing through her after learning of Reade's betrayal. She felt the cold of the wind and the aching beauty of Glen Farren in the sunset. She felt the kindness of Mairi's hands as the woman clucked over her bruises and the blisters on her feet, and the warmth of the water was like heaven after the cold mountain passes.

  Still, she was pushed far back from herself most of the day. It was as if she was watching all the world from a distance. She knew the anger and hurt was there, but she had simply pulled away from it.

  Then she was sat next to Reade, and it took everything she had in her not to pick up the large tureen of soup and dump it over his head.

  Very suddenly, she was in her body again, and Reade was watching her with something in his cat-like green eyes that she couldn't name.

  “It'll be all right,” he murmured, and she only watched him, keeping her face still. She had a feeling that a dinner celebrating his return was a poor time to attack or spit at the younger brother of the clan head, so she was simply silent.

  It helped that the food was good, hot, and plentiful in a way she hadn't had in what felt like forever. The dishes being passed were heavy, and to her surprise, Reade made sure to serve her a little bit from each plate that went by, whether it was crackling roast pork, fried turnips, or a dressing of onions and something earthy she could not place.

  “Why are—?”

  “Shush. I'm sorry, and I will explain later.”

  Something furtive about his tone made her nervous, but she didn't realize what was going on until a man at the far end of the table, his hair and beard a flashing red, rose and lifted his cup to them.

  “To the lass who brought Reade MacTagga
rt to ground!”

  With a shock, Elizabeth realized that he was raising his cup to her, and the cheers that broke out down the length of the long table were fervent.

  “Reade!”

  “I told you. Later.”

  At least Reade looked no happier with this than she was, and Elizabeth tried to smile at the well-wisher. She had been raised by her mother to be a gracious guest, and one thing that a guest never did was to make an uproar. A distant and faintly hysterical part of her mind wondered if that rule still held if she were a prisoner, or a hostage, or even a bride, but then the cry was being taken up by the table.

  What followed were more toasts and more cheers, and some of the attendees were well into their cups before things had even really started. The blessings and well-wishes got more ribald and more difficult for Elizabeth to understand as they went on, but it seemed harmless enough until one particularly drunk man a few seats down swayed to his feet.

  “Here, you mustn't let the lass think she's landed herself a shy one, Reade! Give her a kiss!”

  Oh, no. Elizabeth hid her face in her hands when nothing else had made her do so before.

  In the bath, she hadn't been sure what to expect from the people who were meant to be her born enemies. She had expected disdain and scorn, or perhaps they would have simply ignored her. Instead, she hadn't expected the friendly and eager looks, the way Mairi chivied her into a wrinkled gown that smelled of the cedar chest it had been pulled from, or the way she had been seated next to Reade as if it were a matter of course.

  There was a moment where she realized that Reade didn't expect it either, but then he turned to her, and there was a look on his face that made her heart leap. It wasn't regret, and it wasn't cruelty. Instead, it was hunger, sweet as honey and powerful as the ocean.

  That was all the warning that she received before Reade's hand came to cup the back of her neck, pulling her forward into a kiss that it felt as if she had been craving for years.

  She barely heard the cheers that went up around them, barely felt the heat from the hearth at her back. All she felt was Reade's mouth claiming hers, lighting a fire deep inside her that would never die. He was warm, and strong, and in that moment, there was no betrayal in the world that was going to drive her away from him. They were together, he was kissing her, and the world was right.

  As he pulled away, something possessed her to nip his lower lip, sending a deep groan through his body, and there was just a moment where she glimpsed the hunger in his eyes, before he covered it up.

  The cheers were loud and happy, and for a moment, Elizabeth felt like crying. What would it be like if it was real, if she really were Reade's bride brought from some distant place? Could this be her home, and could these be her people?

  Elizabeth had never been particularly good at lying to herself, however, and she knew that it was all false. She wasn't his bride; he wasn't the one who would always love and protect her.

  Somehow, she made it through the dinner, and it made her quietly furious that the thing that kept her going was Reade's hand, occasionally reaching for hers to squeeze it comfortingly. She shouldn't have taken any more comfort from him after what he had done, but somehow, she did.

  Then, as the early risers were making their way out and the drunks were just getting started, Reade rose and touched her shoulder gently.

  “We should go now.”

  “All right.”

  He led her through the dark halls of Doone Castle, and she couldn't keep herself from being impressed by it. It wasn't one of the tower houses she had seen from a distance, relatively recent fortifications that could be defended in a hurry. Instead, there was something ancient in the stones around her.

  “Doone Castle has belonged to the MacTaggarts for almost two hundred years,” Reade said with evident pride in his voice. “It's sheltered us from the north and the south alike, and there's nothing else in the world like it.”

  “You are at home here,” Elizabeth said. She wanted to say something biting and harsh, but the truth was that she was simply too tired.

  “I am. And... Well. Again, Elizabeth, I am so sorry.”

  “Would you do it again?”

  He was silent, and she shook her head.

  “Then tell me what that means.”

  They walked in silence to a thick oak door, and when Reade opened it, Elizabeth was unsurprised to find Aidan MacTaggart waiting for them. The room was warmed and lit by a wide hearth, and there were large wooden chairs padded with wool around it. At the clan head's gesture, she took her seat, but Reade stayed standing, pacing a little like a cornered animal.

  Aidan looked enough like Reade that Elizabeth had to stifle an automatic surge of liking for him. He looked like a man of calm presence, more thoughtful than Reade perhaps, and sterner as well.

  “Welcome to Doone Castle, lass,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Now, why don't you tell me what's brought you here?”

  Elizabeth looked to Reade, but he nodded, and she took a deep breath. She had wondered what she was going to say for hours, whether she could lie, whether she would be allowed to speak at all. Finally, however, what came out was the truth, unvarnished, unattractive, and strange.

  I am only so tired of lying. She felt a little lighter after it all came out, no matter what it might mean for the future.

  Aidan watched her thoughtfully as she spoke, his gaze only darkening when she mentioned her uncle. She knew in a vague way that her uncle was one of the greater supporters of the war, of making the Highlands bend a knee to English King Edward, but it had never struck her before that he was railing against real people like the MacTaggarts. It made her feel oddly ashamed that she had never considered it before, but neither Aidan or Reade seemed to find it strange.

  When she finished, Elizabeth felt as if she had walked for a thousand days without sleeping. She sat with her hands fisted in her lap and uttered a final plea.

  “And that's why I came north. I needed to get away from my uncle, and I will not return.”

  “I understand.”

  Aidan's words were so gentle that she looked up in hope, but all she saw was him shaking his head.

  “You are Sussex's niece, however. Sussex has always wanted the North for England. We've met his men more than once in the last few years. You must understand we cannot let you go so easily, lass.”

  Elizabeth stiffened. Why had she expected any better?

  “So, what am I, then? A hostage? A prisoner?”

  Aidan smiled at her, disarmingly charming. Reade was the handsomer of the two, but there was something about Aidan that she rather thought could talk a wolf into giving up his teeth.

  “Say rather, a guest.”

  “A guest.”

  “Aye. Guest and betrothed of my brother.”

  “Aidan,” Reade growled. “That's not necessary.”

  “Tell me, then, brother, how many of our clan have lost men, brothers, fathers, and sons, to the English these last few years. Then tell me how many of them have forgiven the English for what they have done, and out of those, tell me how many of them would welcome a London girl to stay, let alone the niece of Sussex.”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard.

  “They might try to hurt me.”

  Aidan met her eyes, hazel rather than green like Reade's, and now they were as hard as marble.

  “I love my people well, Elizabeth, and believe me when I say that I know how little harm you mean to us. But we have lost people, and I may rule, but we are a headstrong lot sometimes. Best you keep your truth a secret and best you stay close to Reade.”

  More lies. Would she even know what the truth was if she saw it? Would she always be something besides who she truly was for the rest of her born days?

  “At least you don't tell me you are sorry for all this,” Elizabeth said quietly, and though Aidan frowned at Reade, he did not respond.

  “Reade, I believe tomorrow will be as fine a time as any to hear what you have seen in the South. T
onight, perhaps look to Elizabeth and make sure that she is settled.”

  In the corridor again, Reade reached for Elizabeth.

  “Elizabeth, I am so—”

  “No!' she spat. “No! We have nothing to say to one another. Nothing at all. Where do the lies end, Reade? Where does it all just stop?”

  For a moment, there was something wild in Reade's eyes, and in that moment, anything could have happened. Then it passed, and he shook his head.

  “I don't know, lass. But not yet. Come on. I'll take you to my rooms.”

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  chapter 31

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  Reade had expected Elizabeth to fight harder, but the travel and the meal had tired her. His bed, covered in furs, had been thankfully aired out, and after stripping to her shift, Elizabeth crawled in as if it was hers by right. Memories of what they had done in the hunter's hut came back to him, and he pushed them away. He knew his touch would not be welcome, and the idea of having her turn away from him again was more than he could bear.

  He sat by the fire, giving her time to fall asleep, and though at first, he suspected she was crying a little, he soon heard her breathing even out to something smooth and easy.

  You're home. It's all right. She'll mend.

  He knew he had done a terrible thing to her. He knew he had betrayed her when she hadn't a friend in the world besides him. It made him feel lower than a snake's belly, but underneath it was a strange satisfaction that he didn't want to investigate too closely

  It welled up, however, and finally, he had to confront the fact that there was a larger than average part of him that was only thrilled that she was there, in Glen Farren, in Castle Doone, with him. Where she belonged.

  I'm everything the English think I am. How in the name of all that is holy can I expect her to ever trust me again?

  He didn't expect, but he realized that there was a part of him that hoped, and he couldn't tell if that was worse or not.