The Highland Laird's Bride Page 3

  ‘Why does it matter to you?’

  He felt a roiling frustration and fought to keep his patience. He would not give up his power. ‘I wrote to you. I told you that Gaira returned to Colquhoun land. I explained I’d come here to make amends.’

  ‘But you’re late.’

  ‘Dunbar occurred. I am late because our country went to war!’

  ‘Aye, but that doesn’t explain why you were late. Everyone knows you didn’t participate in Dunbar.’

  No, he hadn’t participated in that fateful battle against the English last April. Scotsmen had been slaughtered; the ones who survived hid in Ettrick Forest. His brother Malcolm was one of the survivors, but he carried a terrible wound.

  Bram could tell no one why he hadn’t participated in Dunbar. He made his choice not against his country, but for his country. King John Balliol himself ordered Bram not to participate, to stay on Colquhoun land and receive two messages. The messages, he had been told, would protect Scotland.

  Bram stayed, had advised his family and clan to stay, but he never received two messages. Balliol was defeated at Dunbar and was now being held at the Tower of London. It was the English King Edward who ruled over Scotland now.

  If Balliol expected Bram to protect Scotland, he was falling far short.

  Then, his brothers, Malcolm and Caird, arrived whilst Bram waited for Lioslath to open the gates. The messages that were supposed to have come to the Colquhoun clan became clear. They were not actual messages, but a dagger and the legendary Jewel of Kings.

  Though the jewel was safely in Malcolm’s hands, he now fled to Clan Buchanan land to secure the dagger. He took a spare horse to make the journey faster for him. Bram was all too aware it might not be fast enough. As long as the jewel remained in the open, his brother, his clan, were in terrible danger.

  For now Bram must stay on Fergusson land for the winter and await news about the jewel. Come the spring, he would know whether he was to ride north to the safety of his land, or south and commit treason with Balliol in the Tower of London. Either way, King Edward would find him then.

  ‘It matters not whether I was at Dunbar. It delayed my arrival,’ he continued. ‘But I’m here now.’

  ‘And I want you to leave.’ She waved her hand towards the door and he knew he didn’t imagine her unbalance.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’

  A hesitation. ‘Nothing that your absence wouldn’t cure.’

  She lied. There were dark circles under her bright eyes, the natural angle of her cheekbones sharply exposed because of the hollows of her cheeks.

  ‘I’ve given you food,’ he said.

  ‘I took your food.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘But you haven’t eaten it.’

  ‘What is it to you what happens to it?’

  ‘Have the others eaten?’

  ‘Again, I ask, what is it to you what happens to it?’

  Too much. He never would have been waiting outside the gates if he thought anyone inside was suffering. ‘Answer me.’

  She crossed her arms around her midriff, which outlined the smallness of her frame and...her ribs?

  He cursed. ‘You little fool, you haven’t eaten.’

  ‘Fool? Better a fool than what you’ve become. You didn’t participate at Dunbar. You’re a traitor. So, too, what of your acts for this clan? You probably knew your sister would run away and endanger my father!’

  Traitor. He was no traitor, but he’d have to get used to being called one.

  ‘I could not prevent your father’s death,’ he said instead.

  ‘I’ll never believe you! Without him, without his protection, just look at what has happened here!’

  ‘What do you mean what has happened here?’

  He knew it. Something worse than poor management had caused the damage here. For the first few days, he questioned the villagers, but they ignored him and his clansmen. So he observed them instead. Their homes were in tatters; the crops were burned. It was too early for the crops to be burned. He thought...he hoped...they harvested early. That the winter supplies of food were locked safely inside the keep. But Lioslath stole food from him and she looked half-starved. She had no food inside the keep. There could be no food anywhere.

  This year, he committed more wrongs than he could ever mend. Irvette had died and he’d broken his trust with his sister Gaira. He was committing treason, but not because he hadn’t fought at Dunbar, as Lioslath or any of his fellow countryman believed. Still, he paid the shaming price of it. Now, with the jewel in their hands, his family held another secret and this was far more dangerous than he, than any clan, than a king, could prepare for.

  Whilst Malcolm carried the jewel with him, the thought that Bram wasn’t there to protect him weighed heavily on him. And that didn’t end the list of his wrongs.

  Although he hadn’t killed Lioslath’s father, Busby would be alive if they hadn’t made their alliance. He might not be able to bring her father back, but he could help this clan prepare for winter. He bore too many wrongs. For once, he would make amends and he would do that here with this clan.

  ‘Answer me,’ he bit out. He wouldn’t be able to hold back his anger much longer, and if he did, he’d lose control entirely. He never lost control in negotiations.

  Something seemed to snap in her as well. ‘Answer you? The all-mighty laird wants me...depends on me...to answer him. You doona deserve my answers.’ Swaying, she unfurled her arms and clenched her fists.

  ‘You’re not dependable, you doona honour your vows. You want to make amends? You’re too late to make amends!’

  She raised her fist. Her intent clear. She didn’t have a dagger, but she would hurt him. She took two steps before her eyes suddenly closed, her legs crumpled beneath her and he rushed to catch her fall.

  Chapter Four

  Jostled, and held too tightly, Lioslath woke. With long strides Bram carried her through the Hall.

  He was too close. She noticed the shades of red in his hair, the blonde tips of his eyelashes. She could smell the scent of leather, of outdoors...of him. It was almost as jarring as him carrying her.

  ‘Put me down.’

  ‘Nae, you little fool. How long have you been like this? How long did you think you would last?’

  Bram cradled her against him as if she was no more than a babe. She shouldn’t have felt him through the layers of clothing, but she did. She felt the hard planes of his chest, and the grace and strength of his legs. His arms had no more give than the rest of him, and yet he held her gently.

  She couldn’t remember if she had ever been carried or held like this. He was Laird Colquhoun and his holding her should have felt uninvited and unwelcome. At the very least it should have felt foreign. Instead, he felt...warm.

  Fighting the warmth, she turned her head and saw the light through the Hall’s doors. A spike of fear woke her up. ‘Put me down,’ she ordered again.

  The keep would wake soon. She didn’t need her two brothers seeing her. At six and five, they would ask too many questions. Her sister, Fyfa, at eight, would think it romantic. Lioslath knew that would be worse.

  Brows drawn, Bram didn’t look at her, but she felt the flexing of his fingers against her arm and leg. ‘Not until we reach your bedroom.’

  She was too weak to fight him, but she wasn’t too weak to hold herself rigidly. She felt the tightening of his hold and saw his frown, though he ignored her tiny defiance. When he laid her on the bed, she sat up, and his frown deepened.

  ‘Stay there.’

  She wouldn’t take his orders. ‘This is ridiculous.’

  ‘You fainted.’

  Forget the room or her siblings, her fainting was the most embarrassing bit of all of this. Worse, because an enemy had seen it and carried her. ‘I didn’t fain
t—’

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  ‘Or if I did, it’s over with. It’s daylight. The keep will wake soon.’ Her eyes darted around.

  ‘Your dog stayed in the kitchens. Shouldn’t he be protecting you?’

  ‘As if you were a threat?’ How did he know she wanted Dog and why wasn’t Dog protecting her? The edges of her vision wavered and she put a hand to her head. ‘You need to leave or you’ll be discovered.’

  ‘We’re in your room. I’ll take the tunnel.’

  By now the platform by the gates would be manned. ‘Someone will see you.’

  He tilted his head, studying her. ‘Worried for me?’

  Looming over her, he was everything arrogant and domineering. His red hair waved loose to his shoulders, but it didn’t hide the broadness of his jaw or his eyes, which were grey, like the colour of the sky before a storm broke. His sun-browned skin highlighted the soft dusty colour of his lips. His jaw was broad and square. His nose looked as though it had been broken and straightened many times, but it didn’t disfigure his face. In fact, she found this part of him...interesting. It gave him a certain fierceness she wasn’t expecting of the weak-kneed Colquhouns.

  Like this, Bram looked like the warrior he was reputed to be.

  She felt a fluttering in her stomach and her skin flushed. But was it from hunger or fear? It couldn’t be fear. Her father had been a giant of a man and had ruled the keep with intimidation and punishments. When he loomed over her, never once had she felt this sort of helpless breathlessness before. It must be from hunger.

  Bram shook his head. ‘Not worried for me. You’re worried for your tunnel. Why is there a tunnel and room beneath your bedroom?’

  He didn’t need to know about the tunnel, or the empty storage room beneath. He didn’t need to know this wasn’t her bedroom. All he needed to know was—

  The door burst open. Bram, ready to fight, leapt in front of the bed.

  Two muddy boys were chased into the room by an older girl. Lioslath’s gasps of surprise and anger were drowned by the girl’s shrieking. Gleeful, the boys taunted the girl until they were all fully around the bed. Just as the boys swerved to run out again, they spied Bram.

  ‘The giant outside the gates!’ the littler boy cried, dashing out of the room.

  Bram lunged for the door to trap the other two inside, then turned to face his captives.

  Curiously, the children hadn’t run to Lioslath for protection. Instead, they stood on the other side of the bed, their hands locked together.

  Unlike the boys, the girl’s appearance was immaculate. Her hair was freshly brushed and a rudimentary ornament held back tiny plaits around her face. Her dress was thin, overly mended and far too short for her, but it was clean. As was the girl herself, except for one long drip of mud from her left cheek that stretched down and along her gown.

  The boy standing next to her looked as though he’d emerged from a mud puddle; the girl looked as though she’d never seen a mud puddle.

  There were now witnesses to his being inside the keep. He didn’t know who they were, but he suspected.

  Lioslath stood when he closed the door. She looked as though she’d never seen the children before, but there was no mistaking their similarities. The children had brown hair with golden highlights, but their eyes were Lioslath’s.

  She waved to the children. ‘Leave now!’

  ‘I think it’s too late for that.’ Bram heard footsteps. This would not go well.

  ‘Are you smiling?’ she choked out.

  Bram stepped aside before a man stormed into the room with the littler boy at his heels. When the man saw Bram, he brandished his axe.

  ‘Aindreas!’ Lioslath cried.

  ‘Get away from her!’ Aindreas bit out.

  Lioslath’s embarrassment over fainting was now swamped by frustration and fury and a helplessness she’d never felt before that made it all worse. Too late she realised that when Bram stepped away from the door, he’d stepped towards her. It only reinforced the damage done.

  She felt like kicking Bram, shouting at Aindreas and shoving the children out the door, but she could do none of it. She was trapped.

  ‘Are you harmed?’ Aindreas kept his eyes on Bram.

  ‘Nae harmed—merely plagued.’

  ‘What is he doing here, Lioslath?’ Aindreas asked. ‘How did he get here?’

  Neither question could she answer and already she saw the children’s comprehension that Bram was inside the keep, though the gates were closed. ‘It’s not as it seems,’ she said.

  ‘Not as it seems!’ Aindreas almost roared. ‘He’s in your—’

  ‘The children!’ she interrupted.

  Aindreas clenched his jaw as his eyes, warning of retribution, returned to Bram. ‘Did you harm any?’

  ‘Nae harm and I came alone,’ Bram said calmly, yet there was no mistaking the silent challenge in his words. Lioslath and Aindreas had observed Bram training his men. He was daunting from afar, now, up close, he was formidable.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Aindreas said.

  ‘That is between Lioslath and me,’ Bram said.

  ‘Not while I have breath in my body, Colquhoun. You are leaving. Now.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ Bram said.

  Aindreas raised the axe again, his stance widening. He was skilled in axe throwing, but Bram stood too near to Lioslath and her siblings were here. He couldn’t throw it and he couldn’t attack. They all knew it, but Aindreas looked as though he was beyond caring.

  ‘He will go now,’ she said. ‘He knows by staying the consequences will be dire.’

  ‘You’re unwell,’ Bram said.

  Did he think her a fool to believe that he stayed because of that? ‘I have care now,’ she pointed out.

  Something about Bram’s demeanour said he didn’t like that. ‘Nae good enough. We need to negotiate.’

  ‘You’ll negotiate,’ Aindreas said, ‘only at the end of my axe.’

  Lioslath knew it was up to her to end this. The room was brightening with the rising sun. She could hear people waking and she needed no witnesses to her fainting embarrassment.

  ‘Aindreas, you need to leave and take the children.’ She turned. ‘And you three need to keep quiet.’

  ‘Nae!’ Aindreas waved his axe. ‘He’s trapped. We can use him to barter. We have an advantage.’

  ‘Do you truly?’ Bram said, amusement lacing his words.

  Lioslath’s insides roiled. Did he find nothing serious?

  No, he did. She’d been watching him all these weeks, and Bram was Laird Colquhoun and a warrior in every sense. The years, the authority and the training were ingrained in the way he held himself. Even without a weapon, he was too worthy a foe. And his all-too-knowing smile that belied a friendly easiness told her he wouldn’t leave here quietly.

  Her siblings, for once, remained still, but they were not silent. Increasing her alarm, they held hands and whispered something between them.

  ‘Aindreas, go, please. Keep them quiet and nae harm will come to me. I’ll converse with Laird Colquhoun and we can end this.’

  ‘Alone? You expect me to leave a man in your room alone?’

  ‘I was alone with her before we were interrupted,’ Bram said.

  Lioslath’s breath left her lungs. ‘Mere moments and unwanted! Aindreas, only we know he is here. If we delay much longer, this cannot be kept secret!’

  Aindreas eased his axe hold. ‘To negotiate?’

  She nodded. ‘I trust this to you.’

  Aindreas lowered his axe and nodded. ‘I’ll take them to the courtyard outside the Hall’s door. Nae more.’

  It was the most she could ask.

  ‘Wait,’ Bram said, turning to the children. ‘Who are you?’ he
asked.

  ‘This isn’t necessary,’ Lioslath interrupted.

  ‘I won’t go,’ Bram said. He meant it.

  Her siblings visibly twitched, but Eoin and Fyfa faced this intimidating man with their chins stubbornly set. She’d seen them like this when facing her, but never with someone they should fear.

  ‘Did you... Did you hurt her?’ Fyfa asked, a fierceness to her eyes.

  ‘Nae,’ Bram said, ‘but it’ll hurt your sister if I stay.’

  Aindreas made some sound, while Lioslath tried not to reveal her surprise at her siblings’ bravery.

  ‘How will it hurt her if you stay?’ Eoin asked.

  Fyfa tugged on her brother’s arm. ‘I’ll tell you later. Now they want us to pretend he wasn’t here.’

  ‘How are we to do that?’ Eoin said. ‘He’s huge!’

  ‘Later,’ she hissed at her brother before turning her eyes to Bram again. This time there was a gleam to them. ‘What do we get in return?’

  Her siblings had been chattering to themselves and this was what they planned? It was confusing. Their protectiveness was confusing. As was Bram’s increasing amusement.

  ‘Do you know what you want?’ he asked.

  Eoin and Fyfa nodded, but Gillean, who remained by Aindreas’s side, looked lost.

  Bram pointed to him. ‘When he knows, come to me to discuss your terms.’

  ‘Are you finished?’ Aindreas demanded.

  Bram shrugged. ‘For now. When you return, bring food. She needs it.’

  Aindreas’s lips thinned as he looked at Lioslath. She nodded. For now, she was safe. She’d deal with the Colquhoun’s arrogance after the children left.

  Keeping his eyes on Bram, Aindreas ushered the children out of the room.

  The door latch clicked with an ominous sound and Lioslath felt more alone with Bram now than she had before. At the very least she was more...aware of him. Which made little sense, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was suddenly, vibrantly here.

  Had he always been this tall or broad of shoulder? He was a well-trained man and it showed in this morning’s light. Showed...a little too much to her. And she didn’t want to guess on why. Faintness or hunger. That was all this fluttering awareness had to be. She’d never felt it before and she hoped she wouldn’t faint again.