The bells rang on the walls of Sutherland Castle just before sunset the next day.
The tolling began with the two atop the gate towers but spread until every bell was ringing loudly and clearly. Brenda crossed to the window and watched as riders entered the yard to the delight of the Sutherlands. From the height of her chamber room, there was no way to make out features, but she knew the earl from the way his people clamored for his attention.
He was helped from his horse before making his way into the great hall in the center of the castle yard.
Bothan has left ye.
Brenda walked back across the room. Her feet were sore from her pacing, and her belly rumbled with hunger because a single meal had arrived at dawn and the day was waning now.
Would ye care to see him made a prisoner along with ye?
The answer was no. Brenda nursed her injured feelings on her way across the floor. She’d just felt so…intimate with him the night before. Waking up alone had her fighting off tears of loneliness. Not that anyone would ever know about those little drops that had covered her hands in the darkest hours of the night.
She sniffed and blinked her eyes, refusing to cry again. If naught else, she didn’t need to be any thirstier.
It was a pathetic little thing to be in control of.
Helpless…
Brenda didn’t care for how the word came to mind and how impossible it seemed to be to uproot it. A rap finally sounded on the doors. Brenda turned and watched as the retainers opened them.
“Stay in there, Mistress,” one of them warned her sternly, “or ye’ll go without yer supper.”
Brenda forced herself to stand still as a neat row of maids entered. The younger ones were curious, looking at her as they carried in a variety of plates. Everything was set down, and the maids turned around in answer to the snapping of the retainer’s fingers.
The man wasn’t planning on dealing with his laird being upset over losing her. He watched Brenda as the maids left, his expression softening a small amount as she remained in place.
“Thank ye,” he muttered before closing the doors.
Brenda let out a snarl. Oh, it wasn’t a fitting sound for a lady to make, but no one was there to hear her frustration. She moved toward the plates, seeing what had been sent to her. There was more than enough food for a meal and two buckets of water for washing.
But what Brenda noted was the fact that the Sutherlands weren’t planning on there being many opportunities for the doors to be opened.
Helplessness…
Brenda felt her temper rise, and she allowed it to rage. At least the flames burnt away the feeling of being trapped. Where did that leave her? She honestly didn’t know. But it wasn’t helpless, so she’d take what she could get.
* * *
“Yer son had me locked in yer dungeon!” Hamell raged at the Earl of Sutherland. “My uncle is no’ going to like hearing of it.”
The earl had gray hair. He wore a flat cap to conceal the spot on top of his head where his hair had thinned. But his eyes were still sharp.
“I understand you tried to start a fight inside my home,” the earl began. “You’re lucky to still be standing inside Sutherland.”
Hamell wasn’t fool enough to continue with his tirade. He drew up short and bit back his next outburst.
The earl didn’t miss it either. The older man nodded firmly. “Now, what is this matter of you arriving with a stolen woman?”
“Ye granted me the right to wed Brenda Grant,” Hamell exclaimed.
“I did no’ give ye permission to attack Chief Gunn,” the earl interrupted, “or to bring him to my castle with a valid reason to appeal to me for justice.”
Hamell wasn’t deterred. He opened his arms wide. “The woman has a dowry that had the King taking notice of how valuable it is.”
The earl grunted. “Well, as to that point, I agree.”
Hamell smiled with victory.
“Which is no’ me saying I will turn a deaf ear to Chief Gunn,” the earl was quick to add. “He’s a loyal man to Sutherland and claims he wed the Grant lass. If the deed is accomplished, I cannot undo it.”
“It was an English wedding,” Hamell argued. “The Grants are Catholic. So are you.”
The earl slowly smiled. “Yet it was the King of Scotland who sent Brenda Grant to England to be wed. The King might be young, but he knows the English Queen is head of her English church.”
Hamell’s complexion was darkening. “The King is a long way from here. He meddled enough in this matter. Brenda Grant is from the Highlands. Better the dowry stay within the clans than be given to England.”
“A fine idea,” the earl agreed.
Hamell was back to grinning. The earl contemplated him for a moment before shifting his gaze toward his son Cormac.
“Chief Gunn has appealed to me for the lass on the grounds of consummation and possible issue from the union,” the earl said.
“Chief Gunn left England without consummating the union,” Hamell insisted. “There are no witnesses.”
“There are Sutherland witnesses,” Cormac declared. “There was no reason to deny Chief Gunn the company of his wife.” Cormac flashed Hamell a grin. “Bothan didn’t attack me.”
Hamell’s eyes bulged. “Ye bastard!” he raged as he lunged toward Cormac.
The retainers in the room moved to protect their laird’s son, but Cormac didn’t need help. He lowered his head and rammed into Hamell, twisting him around and locking his arm around the man’s neck. Straightening up, Cormac choked Hamell while the man frantically tried to break the hold.
“Cormac,” the earl called out to his son. “Ye’ve made yer point.”
Cormac let out a disgusted sound before releasing Hamell. The chamber was filled with the sound of Hamell staggering away from the heir to the earldom. The retainers watching made it plain they enjoyed seeing the display of their future laird’s ability.
“Yer son,” Hamell declared, “knew full well of yer blessing on me wedding Brenda Grant!”
“True,” the earl conceded.
“Laird Campbell is going to hear of this,” Hamell threatened.
“No one is going anywhere just yet,” the earl declared. “Chief Gunn is not here, and it seems we’ll all be waiting to see if the lass is with child or not. If there is issue, ye’ve lost her.”
“There are ways to deal with unwanted issue,” Hamell suggested.
The earl slowly smiled. “It seems I find meself in agreement with me son on the matter of keeping ye in the dungeon.”
“Laird Campbell will hear—” Hamell protested as the retainers behind him grabbed him by the upper arms.
“Ye can be certain of it!” The earl raised his voice. “Laird Campbell will hear of how I watched ye try to kill me only son…right before me eyes! And that ye tried to have me agree with killing an unborn child, which is a mortal sin in the Church ye claim to be a member of!”
The earl looked at his men. “Toss him back in the dungeon.”
The Sutherland retainers didn’t hesitate to carry out the earl’s orders. They hauled Hamell and his men out the door, leaving the chamber quiet.
“Ye know I must consider the Campbells’ strength.” The earl spoke softly to his son.
Cormac had been waiting for his father to speak. Now that they were alone, his sire would make it clear that he expected Cormac to think of Sutherland first and foremost.
“As we should keep in mind the Gunns and Grants,” Cormac replied.
The earl tilted his head to one side. “Ye know the Campbells pose a far more immediate threat to us.”
Cormac didn’t falter. He stared straight at his father.
The earl grunted, but his lips rose into a grin that was full of pride. “I was a young man like ye once, Cormac. I see the need for justice in yer eyes, and in me heart, I agree. Hamell is a sniveling, whining excuse of a man. It turns me stomach to think of watching him carry off a prize.”
“Which is why I made certain there would be witnesses to Bothan bedding his wife,” Cormac told his father.
“Where is Chief Gunn?” the earl asked.
“I do not know,” Cormac answered. “But he will be back, of that I’m certain.”
The earl grunted. “Ye made it so he has time.”
Cormac nodded.
“Even with time,” the earl warned his son, “I doubt Chief Gunn can find the means to making me rule in his favor.”
Cormac flashed a look at his father. “If any man could beat the odds, I’d bet me money on Chief Gunn.”
* * *
“Ye’ll not tell me no.”
Brenda heard a woman outside her doors a few days later. She crossed the floor to listen.
“Yer father has given strict instructions to keep the doors shut tight,” one of the retainers on guard duty told whoever it was.
“Ye may close them tight…behind me,” the girl insisted. “Now get out of my way.”
Brenda backed up a few paces. The retainers were obviously debating the issue, but the doors creaked and opened wide. The woman standing there locked gazes with her.
“I am Annella.” She introduced herself and came straight into the chamber.
“Lady Annella,” one of the retainers informed Brenda with a stern look. “The earl’s daughter.”
Brenda offered the girl a quick courtesy. The retainer grunted with approval.
“Enough of that.” Annella waved her hand through the air. “We’re abovestairs, after all. No need for formalities.”
The retainers who had so diligently been standing in the open doorway had to make way for a line of younger boys. They were carrying a tub, and following close behind them were a dozen bearing buckets of water.
“Since ye cannot come below,” Annella declared sweetly, “I have brought a bath to ye.”
Annella had blond hair and blue eyes. She looked like a fairy, delicate and petite. Her dress might have been made of wool, but it was some of the finest fabric Brenda had ever seen. It fit her perfectly too, with shoulder details someone had spent endless hours sewing for nothing more than decoration.
The boys left without a single one of them forgetting to tug on the corner of his bonnet toward the lady. Annella had a sweet smile on her lips, but after the doors were closed, Brenda looked at her.
“Found an excuse to see the woman all the castle is gossiping about?” Brenda asked pointedly.
Annella fluttered her eyelashes, but Brenda propped her hand on her hip in response. Annella let out a peal of delicate laughter.
“I suppose,” Annella said. “Being the daughter of a laird, ye know how to appear innocent.”
“Cousin of the laird,” Brenda replied. “But ye are correct.”
Annella came toward her. “Let me help ye disrobe before the water grows cold.”
Brenda felt a little chill go down her back. Annella held her expression perfectly. The look on the girl’s face was serene and sweet, as though the girl didn’t have a single wit in her head.
Brenda wasn’t deceived.
So much attention to her clothing meant Annella had likely been given a very good education.
Including instruction on how to appear the perfect model of obedience and submission while keeping her mind sharp.
Whatever the girl wanted, Brenda decided it wasn’t worth her giving up the opportunity to bathe. Annella could have had the Sutherland retainers enforce her will on Brenda.
Better to take the offering of something she wanted. Brenda wasn’t fool enough to think the earl’s daughter wouldn’t get her way. But Brenda was so tired of playing games.
“Ye could just ask me what is on yer mind,” Brenda said. “Yer father’s men will make certain ye get whatever information ye are here for.”
Annella froze. Her hands had been reaching for the tie on Brenda’s bodice. Brenda watched something flicker in the girl’s eyes.
“Cormac sees through me as well,” Annella admitted at last. “It’s quite vexing.”
Brenda was opening the front of her underdress. “Me cousin Symon was always able to unmask me as well. What do ye want to know?”
“Are ye breeding?” Annella asked bluntly.
Brenda froze.
Annella offered her a delicate shrug. “Me brother made sure yer husband might visit ye, and the retainers outside the door stood as witness…”
Brenda shouldn’t have been shocked. She turned away to hide her reaction because she just couldn’t help feeling exposed.
Would she never learn?
The world was full of those who saw her as a possession.
Bothan wanted ye for yerself…
He had, and now she’d become his curse.
* * *
“Chief Gunn, at last.” The Earl of Sutherland said his name as Bothan was shown into the man’s private rooms a week later.
Bothan reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet, but that was as far as his manners went.
The earl let out a little sound of approval. “Aye, ye’re no’ one for formalities, Chief Gunn. I imagine ye found the court near impossible to tolerate. Those nobles have an affection for frivolous pastimes.”
“And plots,” Bothan answered. “It’s true I’ve had a belly full of schemes.”
“Hmm.” The earl nodded. “Fair enough.”
“I’d appreciate it greatly if ye’d get on with the matter of returning me wife to me,” Bothan said.
“Hamell Campbell has made a claim for the Grant lass,” the earl responded. “One I agreed with and gave me word on.”
Bothan tilted his head to one side. “That was before ye knew the King had sent her to England and another match.”
“True.”
“So there is no difficulty.” Bothan pressed his case. “There is new information to be considered by yer lordship.”
“When dealing with the matter of land, there is always difficulty,” the earl cut back. “Ye’d be a fool to think otherwise.”
“Brenda is no’ a bride to be stolen.” Bothan refused to back down. “The vows have been made and consummated.”
“Aye.” The earl sat forward. “Me son made sure to make this a difficult situation for me. If I’d been home, ye’d have never gotten abovestairs to yer wife.”
“Because ye prefer the Campbells to the Gunns?” Bothan demanded.
“I’d be a fool to no’ see the strength in the Campbells,” the earl insisted.
“And a bigger fool to not see they will keep taking more and more if ye spoil them,” Bothan said.
The room was quiet for a long moment. The earl tried to stare Bothan down but failed.
“I understand yer point, lad,” the earl said in a tired voice. “But the lass is no’ with child.”
“I do nae care,” Bothan answered. “She is me wife.”
“She will be married tomorrow morning to Hamell Campbell,” the earl said firmly. “Yer choice is to be in me dungeon or no’.”
Biting back his retort was the hardest thing Bothan had ever done. He stood for a long moment before turning and leaving the room. He strode down the passageway until he was away from the Sutherland retainers.
“Maddox?” Bothan asked softly for his man.
“Aye. I know what to do,” his captain answered.
Bothan stood still on the steps that lead up to the great hall of the Sutherland stronghold. For all its grandeur, he noticed only the stench of evil clinging to the castle. Strangled dreams and the blood of innocents had given rise to the huge fortification.
He wanted nothing more than to return to his towers.
With Brenda…
She might not have ye…
Bothan couldn’t hide from his own doubts. He’d failed to protect her. It was something he could not forgive. But he’d free her from Sutherland and the Campbells because it was his duty. If she rejected him afterward, he had no one to blame but himself.
And he’d have the rest of his life to mourn her loss.
* * *
Someone rapped on the outer doors of the chamber. Brenda turned around, but the two men who had positioned themselves outside were already opening the doors.
The Earl of Sutherland was there, and his men were reaching up to tug on the corners of their caps as the man passed through the doorway. A maid brought in a tray with two goblets on it.
“Close the doors, lads,” the earl said. “I’m no’ so old yet that I do nae welcome any lass who looks like she might be trying her hand at smothering me in the bedding! If ye hear the bed ropes groaning, do an old man a favor and leave me to me fate!”
The Sutherland retainers chuckled before they both looked toward her. One of them boldly winked at her before pulling one side of the door shut as his companion closed the other side. The earl was looking at her, both his hands on the top of his walking cane.
“Have some wine, lass.” The earl took up one of the goblets. “’Tis time to be done with the business between us.”
Brenda picked up the goblet out of habit. Years of being instructed in hospitality left her raising it to her lips and drinking down some of the fine French wine without hesitation because the earl was doing the same.
“To die in the bed of a redhead,” the earl spoke firmly. “Now there is a fitting end for a Highlander.”
Brenda propped her hand on her hip. “I had no more control over the color of me hair than ye did, sir.”
The earl let out a bark of amusement. There was a scuff against the floor as he began to tap at the floor with his walking stick. Age had taken his speed, but there was still an air of authority about him even if it did take him time to compose his thoughts. Brenda took a few more sips of the wine as she waited.
“Come and sit here beside me, lass,” the earl said after he sat down and put his own goblet aside.
Brenda offered him a courtesy before she took the seat facing him. His eyes were just as blue as his son’s. Behind the wrinkled skin and gray eyelashes, she caught sight of a twinkle still alive and well in his eyes. She put her half-empty goblet down.
And his gaze was still keen. Brenda sat still as the man took her measure.
“Ye are no lass,” the earl said after contemplating her. “And yet ye’re still young. Yer years have been hard ones. I see the evidence in yer eyes. Ye’re no stranger to bitterness.”
“They’ve taught me a great deal,” Brenda answered.
The earl nodded, but it wasn’t really praise. No, Brenda detected a hint of commiseration in his gaze.
Which chilled her blood.
“Ye’re woman enough to understand I cannae give ye to Chief Gunn now that I know ye do nae carry his babe.”
Brenda felt her heart stop. The sense of unease that had hit her when she’d started to bleed at the beginning of the week blossomed into full dread. Fate was once again proving to be her enemy.
“He is me husband,” she informed the earl. “Issue is not a requirement of marriage.”
“Aye,” Sutherland agreed. “But this is no’ a matter of one couple, and ye know it well. Being the daughter of a son of a laird, ye know well yer marriage bed would no’ be made to suit yer heart.”
She did.
Christ in heaven, why is fate so determined to cut ye with sharp edges?
The chair became unbearable. She stood, pacing away from the earl, but the chamber’s window offered her a view of how high up they were.
Ye mean how impossible escape is…
“If I give ye to the Gunns, the Campbells will ride against them.” The earl voiced what Brenda knew too well. “The King will not concern himself with Highland feuds, and even if he did, the blood spilled would be long dried by the time any royal decree was handed down.”
Brenda stared out the window, willing her mind to offer up some solution.
“The Gunns are fearless, but they are outnumbered,” the earl continued.
“Because Campbells are allowed to accumulate wealth no matter if they do so through criminal means.” Brenda turned and voiced her frustration. “Are ye offering to say naught over me plight because ye hope they will be sated and no’ notice yer own daughter is ripe for harvesting?”
The earl grunted. “Ye’re a daring lass. More than one would say too much so, to be threatening me own family.”
“Perhaps,” Brenda agreed. “Behaving and minding me place gained me naught but grief. I’ll take me chances with courage now. At least I might like meself, even if no one else does.”
The earl smiled at her. There was genuine approval in his expression. But he stamped his walking cane against the floor. “Discretion is the greater part of valor, lass. Do ye really care to end up like some hero in a tale where the man fought for what was right and yet ended up dead in the last battle? Do ye wish to remember him for the rest of yer days?”
“I do nae care to see Bothan dead, no,” she agreed.
The earl nodded. “Nor do I, and before ye ask, I’ve no love for the Campbells’ greed either, but ye are what I called ye, a woman.” His expression tightened. “Annella is me only daughter. I too need to consider long and hard before angering the Campbells.”
“Feed a wolf once, and it will be back for more,” Brenda argued. “I would be Hamell’s fifth wife.”
The earl nodded. “Aye, and he’ll have to let ye live or risk having the Church look into his dealings.”
Brenda’s chest was tight. Men were calculating beasts through and through. “And ye take comfort in that idea? Forgive me if I do not.”
The earl lifted his walking stick and pointed it at her. “As I noted, ye have bitterness in yer eyes.” He pressed his lips into a hard line. “Hamell will keep ye alive, and ye’re wise enough to know such a thing will no’ be a blessing.”
Brenda faced him straight on. “And yet ye will give yer blessing to the union, even keep Bothan from riding after me?”
The earl took a long moment to consider her words before he nodded a single time.
She felt like thunder had cracked the sky open above her. The moment was so final. So very inescapable.
There was a scuffing sound as the earl moved toward her. He cupped her shoulder, pushing gently on it.
“Sit before ye fall,” the earl encouraged her softly.
Allowing her knees to fold was more of a relief than a concession. Brenda dropped onto one of the huge chairs in the receiving chamber. Her strength felt like it was flowing from her, draining away in the face of reality.
She jerked as she realized the truth and fought to keep her drooping eyelids open. The earl only watched her with sympathy in his eyes.
“Better to drug ye,” he said without a hint of remorse in his tone. “Otherwise, I would have had to post me men in here tonight to ensure ye did no’ decide to escape by killing yerself.”
He stood and contemplated her. “Ye’ll be wed to Hamell Campbell in the morning.”
She wanted to protest, felt like a scream was lodged in her chest but the ability to push it into the world was beyond her. Instead, Brenda watched as the Earl of Sutherland turned and left her to the fate he’d pronounced.
Cursed…
Aye, she was cursed.
* * *
Cormac Sutherland was waiting for Bothan in the stables. The heir to the earldom of Sutherland seemed very much at ease in the humble surroundings.
“Yer wife is no’ carrying yer babe,” Cormac stated bluntly.
Bothan gave the horse he’d ridden for the better part of two days a firm pat. The animal tossed its head, making it clear it wanted to rest.
“There are a great many people in the Highlands who covet yer position as the earl’s son,” Bothan replied. “It’s the truth I am no’ one of them.”
Cormac let out a bark of amusement. “If ye are speaking of the fact that I can hardly take a piss without someone knowing the color of it…aye, there are parts of being the earl’s son that are no’ very pleasant.”
“Such as being sent here to talk sense into me?” Bothan boldly addressed the topic he knew Cormac was trying to ease into.
Cormac nodded, just a single, curt motion of his head. “My father values ye, Bothan, or he would no’ care if ye ended up dragged away to the dungeon for raging at him.”
“Brenda is me wife,” Bothan stated clearly. “If yer father is so aware of the worth I have, go tell him to let me take her away now.”
“If it were me, I’d let ye,” Cormac said. “But allowing ye into her chamber while my father was gone was the best I might do for ye. He is the earl and me father. There was a time ye were bound to follow a Gunn chief ye did no’ agree with.”
“But me word had been given.” Bothan acknowledged the point.
“Fealty is no’ a matter of the moment,” Cormac added. “Once ye kneel and pledge yerself to a laird, no man can pick and choose what orders to heed.”
Cormac patted Bothan on the shoulder as he passed him on the way back to the castle. Torches were lit to illuminate the yard, but it was quiet as the inhabitants settled in for the night. Somewhere, there was a breathless whisper as a pair of lovers found a dark shadow to steal away to.
“Chief?” Maddox asked softly beside him.
Bothan turned his head. His men were bone-weary. He’d pushed them hard, but they were still on their feet, not a single one seeking out a spot to sleep in while they waited on his word.
Aye, fealty wasn’t something a man could choose the timing of.
And Bothan couldn’t blame the Sutherland retainers who would do their duty in the morning.
“Rest,” Bothan told his men. “Ye’ve earned it and more. I’m proud to be called yer chief.”
They enjoyed his praise, all of them reaching up to tug on the corners of their caps before they headed toward a few vacant stalls and began unbuckling their plaids. Somewhere, in one of the towers of the castle, Cormac had a bed waiting for him. The staff would have made sure it was turned down and the fire in his chambers lit.
Bothan was proud to ride with men who were simple and strong enough to face the trials of the Highlands.
“Ye’re no good to Brenda half dead from lack of sleep,” Maddox said when Bothan didn’t join his men.
Bothan nodded. “I’m going to see the priest before I sleep.”
Bothan knew Maddox watched him go. Sutherland Castle had its own chapel. One with a priest. Bothan headed across the yard toward it. Maddox likely shook his head, but Bothan didn’t care. Nothing mattered but freeing Brenda.
If she rejected him afterward, well, he’d still consider his duty toward her fulfilled.
* * *
“I am no’ wearing that dress,” Brenda declared.
The maids in the room looked between her and the Head of House, who was attempting to oversee dressing Brenda for her wedding.
Annella sighed from where she was watching in the corner. Brenda snapped her head around to send the girl a glare, only to find the earl’s daughter smiling at her.
“Good,” Annella said. “I was hoping ye’d maintain yer dignity.”
“If ye mean I refuse to be dressed like a dessert for Hamell Campbell, then aye,” Brenda declared.
She sat down and pulled on her stockings. The ones she’d arrived in were clean and serviceable.
“Perhaps ye might consider accepting an overdress?” Annella gestured to one of the maids. “Since ye arrived without one, I had another brought up.”
Brenda was working the lace through the eyelets on the front of her underdress. The maid held up a sturdy-looking wool overdress. It was cranberry in color and likely something she’d enjoy having on the road.
She refused to say the word home.
Campbell Castle had never been her home.
Gunn Towers had, though…
Hush, do not torment yerself with such thoughts.
“Thank ye.” Brenda forced her mind to the tasks at hand.
Dressing didn’t take very long. She took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror. One of the maids braided her hair while Brenda tried to decide just why fate was so vindictive toward her.
Understanding will bring ye little comfort…
That was a solid truth. She’d understood her father’s reasons for wedding her the first time so very well. She’d understood why the young King had sent her to England. The only thing she had never truly understood was Bothan’s determination to have her.
Ye’ll be glad of it, though…
Aye. She’d hold the memories close to her heart. The Sutherland retainers formed an escort around her the moment she emerged from the chamber, two of them in front of her and another two behind. Three flights of stairs had never taken so long to descend, and then she was being taken through the passageways toward the huge double doors that opened to the yard.
Staff members peeked at her through doorways, whispering as she passed. The entire castle seemed quite aware of her circumstances.
Of course they would be—politics always drew attention.
She was sure to have been a source of conversation for the past week. Married to one man and stolen by another.
It made her ill to think of it.
The sunlight was bright, offering her no hope that the heavens might decide to unleash some fury on the Earl of Sutherland for his part in the day’s planned activities.
When have ye ever been so fortunate?
Brenda held her chin steady as the earl appeared in front of her. But she looked past him to where Bothan was standing.
Pain tore through her in response. Her step faltered, and one of the men behind her reached forward to steady her. Bothan’s eyes narrowed. He started toward her.
“Chief Gunn,” the earl called out. “I expect ye to mind me in this matter.”
Brenda watched the flash of anger in Bothan’s eyes. He controlled his expression though and reached up to tug on the corner of his bonnet.
The earl grunted approval before he turned back to the party of Campbells surrounding Hamell.
“Let’s get on with it,” the earl snapped. “Get up to the church doors and wed her. Ye’ve wasted enough of me time with this matter, Hamell Campbell. Yer laird will be in debt to me for a favor, and I will make certain to collect on it.”
Hamell snorted, but he turned and went toward the small chapel. It was built onto the side of one of the towers and no bigger than a private chamber. The people of Sutherland would stand outside to receive the mass and blessings while the priest maintained the small space as the house of the Lord. Only a devoted member of the clergy could actually enter the chapel.
Hamell braced his hands on either side of the open doors and leaned in. “There is no priest here.”
The earl looked surprised. “The man is likely down in the village giving last rites. Ride out and retrieve him.”
Hamell grunted and tugged on the corner of his cap. “Chief Gunn should go.”
The earl let out a frustrated sound. “Ye’ve heard me tell Chief Gunn to mind my word in this matter. Now get the bloody priest or I swear I will rethink the matter, for I’m growing tired of standing here in the sun for something Laird Campbell isn’t here to ask for himself.”
The earl grumbled as Hamell turned and gestured to some of his men. They took a moment to mount up and then rode out the gate.
“Why did no one think to warn the priest of the wedding I planned this morning?” the earl demanded.
“Perhaps the man knew,” Bothan answered, “and decided he did not want to be part of the matter.”
The earl turned on Bothan, but true to his nature, Bothan stood his ground.
Christ, but Brenda enjoyed the sight.
“I believe it might be time for ye to see the Sutherland dungeon, Chief Gunn,” the earl began ominously.
“Ye’ll miss the moment,” Bothan replied.
The earl wasn’t happy. Brenda watched the way he had to bite back his anger because years of experience seemed to make him want to question Bothan’s confidence.
And her husband was confident. Brenda caught the flash of intent in his eyes as he pointed up to the walls surrounding them.
“Ye’ll want to climb up to get a better view,” Bothan suggested to the earl.
The earl looked between Bothan and the men on the walls. Several of them were leaning forward, clearly trying to decide what was happening on the stretch of land in front of the castle.
“What have ye managed?” the earl demanded.
He didn’t wait for Bothan to answer. For all his years, the Earl of Sutherland made it up the steps to the top of the wall fairly quickly.
Brenda didn’t care. Bothan was at her side, pulling her into his embrace as the sound of sword meeting sword came through the open gate.
“What…what did you do?” Brenda demanded in a hushed voice. She struggled to push Bothan away. “Are yer men out there doing murder? The earl will hang ye…go! Quickly before—”
“Hush.” Bothan covered her mouth with his hand. She was stuck in his embrace, his strength overwhelming her as it always had. “They are not my men.”
Screams came next, drawing Brenda’s attention to the open gate.
“Chief Gunn, I will remember this!” the earl declared from the top of the wall.
“As will I.” There was a new voice now. Brenda looked through the open gates at a man who rode up. His horse was still dancing from being ridden into battle. He stuck to the agitated creature’s back, though, and pointed his bloodied sword at the earl.
“I am Morey Hay,” he declared. “I’m grateful to ye for letting me know the whereabouts of the man who wed me sister less than a year ago and then put her in her grave.”
The earl had descended from the wall. He faced off with Morey Hay. The clansman was huge. Once he dismounted and sheathed his sword, he still towered over the Earl of Sutherland. But he lowered himself once he came into the castle, tugging on the corner of his bonnet as the earl received the acknowledgment of his higher station.
“I’d have ridden to Campbell land to claim justice,” Morey continued. “Ye have my gratitude for not making me risk more men in doing what I needed to do for me sister.”
“Of course,” the earl stammered.
Morey Hay looked past the earl to where Bothan stood next to her. Her husband was suddenly urging her forward. The Gunn retainers were making their way toward the gate, offering the earl quick tugs on their hats while more Hay retainers lined up on the other side of the gate.
Bothan gave Brenda a push toward Maddox. She stumbled, still in shock at how completely everything had changed. Maddox gripped her wrist and tugged her away from Bothan as he stopped and faced off with the earl.
“I’ll bid ye farewell,” Bothan informed the earl firmly.
Maddox tossed her onto the back of a horse and slapped the mare on the hindquarters as Bothan spoke. Brenda glimpsed the anger on the earl’s face before she was forced to concentrate on staying on the back of the horse.
And then she was on the other side of the gate.
So simple.
So unexpected.
So very amazing.
* * *
The Gunn retainers rode hard for the edge of Sutherland land. The Hay retainers had joined them, making them a force to be reckoned with. The few villages they came across cleared their roads as the men rode through. Morey Hay’s home was much like Bothan’s towers. The stone structures rose up from the high ground as Brenda heard a bell being rung at the top of the guard tower.
She doubted Bothan would have stopped if the horses hadn’t needed a good rest. Brenda slid from the back of her mount as Maddox took the animal away for a very well-earned supper. Her own belly was rumbling.
“Plenty of supper inside,” Morey Hay declared. He looked toward Brenda.
Morey was covered in dirt from the hard ride, but there had been blood splattered across his face before he took to the saddle. Now, the dirt emphasized the blood.
“Ye did not look away,” Morey noted as he caught her looking at the dried blood.
Brenda locked gazes with him. Bothan came up beside her. Morey considered them both.
“I expect no less of any woman Bothan would wed,” Morey added. He turned and let out a whistle. An older woman came across the yard in response. “Mary will take ye abovestairs and see ye have what ye need,” Morey said before moving over to where his men were beginning to wash up in long troughs of water set out at the end of the yard. The stone structures were built at an angle so the water drained out the low end and back into the river.
“Come with me,” Mary instructed. “The yard is no’ a fit place for a woman when the men come in from battle.”
The maids and other females of the Hay clan who had come out to greet their laird were nowhere in sight now. Mary pointed toward the entrance of the tower. Brenda grabbed a handful of her skirts and climbed the steps.
Once inside, there were plenty of women, but the mood was grim. Tight expressions decorated everyone’s faces as they went about getting supper onto the tables for the men who had just returned.
“Justice is no’ a cure for the ache in the soul,” Mary explained as she led Brenda up a flight of stairs. “The laird’s sister was a sweet soul. Yer husband did a fine favor to the Hay in informing us Hamell Campbell was close enough for the justice he deserved.”
Mary opened a door and waited for Brenda to cross into the room. A shiver went down her spine as she complied, too many hours in the Sutherland stronghold souring her taste for chambers with doors.
“No one will disturb ye,” Mary said. “I must see to supper.”
Brenda turned and lowered herself. The older woman nodded before turning and disappearing into the darkening stairwell.
But the door remained open.
Brenda drew in a breath and let her tension dissipate. She walked back toward the door and smiled at the lack of burly retainers standing there to keep her prisoner.
It’s over…
She closed the door, fighting the urge to begin worrying. The impossible had happened, and she needed to be grateful.
So very grateful…
A bowl of stew was sitting on a table, steam gently rising from it. Brenda caught the scent, and her mouth started watering. She took too big a mouthful the first time, singeing her tongue. But the taste was amazing, far better than any food she’d eaten in weeks. Brenda took the next few bites slowly, reminding herself to savor the meal.
The chamber itself was simple, with a sturdy, warm-looking bed against one wall and two chairs. The table was near the window. A chest sat beside it, completing the furnishings in the room.
Someone rapped on the door.
“Yes?” Brenda called out.
“The cook thought ye’d like some water,” a man said as he pushed the door open. He waited for Brenda to nod.
A few scuffs on the floor and he’d delivered a pair of buckets of water. A maid was on his heels with a kettle of hot water. She placed it carefully on the floor before reaching into her apron pocket and withdrawing a bundle of linen.
“Thank you,” Brenda said as they both made their way out.
Of course. Their laird was home, and there was the matter of their murdered mistress. No doubt the clan was drawing together to comfort one another. Brenda opened the linen bundle to see what there was.
A lump of soap and a comb were there along with a smaller square of linen. Brenda smiled, her skin suddenly itching. She stripped down and added the hot water to the buckets before scrubbing herself from head to toe. It wasn’t as relaxing as soaking in a tub, but she enjoyed the feeling of clean skin so much she didn’t care how it came about.
She pulled her smock back on and began to pull the pins from her hair. In the first light from the moon, she used the comb to straighten the tangles from it.
“Ye have an unfair advantage, lass.”
Brenda froze, turning her face toward the door. Bothan had arrived, his boots in his hands, which accounted for how silent his steps had been.
“I think I should claim ye’ve caught me at the disadvantage,” she muttered as she drew the comb to the ends of her hair and set it aside.
“Ye’d be wrong,” Bothan muttered. There was a soft sound as his boots hit the floor. “Ye’re a siren, and I am but a mortal man, ensnared by yer charms.”
She’d been told she was beautiful. Her red hair and flawless complexion had been used during negotiations by her father and relatives. Even after her wedding, Hamell had been one of the many to covet her for her beauty.
Tonight, though, the look in Bothan’s eyes made her feel pretty for the very first time.
“What are ye thinking, lass?” he asked in a whisper.
He’d made it to her, was just a breath away from touching her. Brenda realized she was holding her breath, poised on the point of anticipation.
“I think the look in yer eyes makes me feel beautiful,” she answered him truthfully.
In that moment, everything had been stripped from her, leaving her bare to him. The reason was simple: nothing really mattered except the way he saw her and how very much she needed him to desire her.
“I’ve been enchanted since the first time I laid eyes on ye,” he confessed.
There was a flash of frustration in his eyes. She felt it like a sharp dagger pushed into her flesh. “I never meant to—”
He laid a fingertip against her lips to still them.
“Yet we are here, Brenda,” he rasped out.
He was moving closer, gathering her hair up and burying his face in it. She heard him draw in a deep breath before letting it loose.
He is going to touch ye…
She was so unbearably aware of him, all of her senses keen and ultra-sensitive. Time was flowing so slowly, like honey from a spoon lifted above a plate. She caught the scent of the sweet concoction before it pooled on the surface of the plate and long before she actually got a taste of it.
But the moment was worth waiting for.
Like his kiss…
Brenda watched the way Bothan’s expression set as he decided on his next move. He lifted his gaze to her face, locking eyes with her for a moment.
And then he was shifting, moving in front of her as he reached further into the cloud of her hair to cup the back of her neck with his hand. She felt him grip her head, tightening his hold as he took the final step between them and tilted his head to one side so he might fit his mouth against hers.
Time was both enemy and friend.
She was acutely aware of the seconds it took for him to complete the intimacy. Felt his kiss increasing in pressure as he locked her against him.
And he didn’t rush the moment.
No, Bothan took the time to kiss her gently, as though he was savoring the moment just as much as she herself was. She shifted toward him, flattening her hand against his chest and sliding her fingers up to his shoulder.
There was a soft vibration beneath her fingers. The sound of his growl surrounded her as he lifted his mouth and returned it to hers in a harder kiss.
She drew in a hard breath, feeling the surge of arousal as it flooded through her. Just like too much wine, the heat was traveling along her limbs, heating her from the inside out. Her lack of clothing suited the moment now, as she shifted and found the edge of her smock. Bothan didn’t want to release her. He let her go with a sound of disgruntlement.
“If I’m a siren,” Brenda teased him gently, “I should play the part completely.”
She stepped back before drawing her garment off. His eyes narrowed, and he stood for a long moment, taking in the sight of her.
“Indeed ye should,” Bothan praised her.
He released the wide leather belt holding his kilt around his lean waist, and the wool fabric puddled around his feet. Their gazes were still locked as he reached up and behind his neck to grasp the collar of his shirt and pull it up. The creamy linen rose, baring him for her before he chucked the shirt aside and faced her.
Brenda looked at the hardened body facing her. She knew she was softer, and yet they were crafted to complement each other.
A strange sense of rightness enveloped her, as though she was precisely where she was meant to be for the first time in her life. Logical thinking hadn’t brought her to it, no—impulses and needs had.
So she was going to listen to them completely.
Brenda lifted her hand, offering it to him. She smiled at the expression that covered his face.
Male satisfaction.
She thought she’d seen it before. Looking at Bothan as he put his hand into hers made her realize she’d never seen a man as honest as he was. The look on his face lacked pride of ownership. Bothan found the act of her inviting him into her bed far more of a privilege than anything else.
She closed her fingers around his hand, turning and tugging him toward the bed. They made it only a few paces before he was moving faster, sweeping up beside her and taking her off her feet.
He did it so effortlessly.
Cradling her against his body for the few short steps between them and the bed.
“I’ve dreamt so often of laying ye down in me bed,” Bothan muttered as he settled her on the bed.
He came down on top of her, pressing her thighs apart as he framed her face with his hands.
“Putting ye where I could lay me hands on ye,” he whispered against her mouth. “Claim ye…taste ye…”
He kissed her hard. Pressing his mouth against hers as the slow pace they’d been using evaporated like a bubble popping. Now there was a hard urgency. His mouth opened hers, determined to claim her.
Brenda surged up to meet him. They seemed to clash, both of their needs colliding and setting off sparks.
Which only made the combination even more unpredictable.
He demanded. Kissing her in an effort to subdue her.
She drew her nails down his back, making sure he felt her strength in return.
He arched up, sucking his breath through his teeth before he looked back down at her, the flash of intent so powerful she shivered. But the truth was she wasn’t sure if it was from the separation between them or the anticipation of what was to come.
Bothan didn’t allow her time to contemplate the issue, and she didn’t want it.
All she craved was him. He settled back down on top of her, destroying everything except for the feeling of being in contact with him. She didn’t know where he ended or she began, only that she needed to be closer to him. The end of it all came too soon, leaving her gasping on the surface of the bed without the strength or will to move.
But in the darkness, there was no need to do anything but bask in the moment. Bothan surrounded her, his scent, the warmth of his skin. The night was like a haven created for them before reality might arrive with the light of day to illuminate all of the reasons why happiness wasn’t something more than a fleeting moment stolen in the dark hours.
* * *
Bothan was gone when she woke.
Brenda curled up, catching the bedding as it slipped down to reveal her bare breasts. The edge of the horizon wasn’t even pink yet, and still he was gone.
Siren.
Enchanted.
All the words a man used when he wanted to cut a woman from his life instead of allowing her power over him.
He was finished with her.
He’d followed her all the way to England, but now that the Campbells and the Sutherlands were involved, Bothan was wise enough to recognize the limits of keeping her. Somehow, she’d decided she meant more to him.
What do ye expect? Love?
Not that she truly understood what love was, anyway.
Ye do now…ye love him…
The realization made his rejection of her even more painful.
She crawled out of the bed, staggering under the blow. Pain was ripping her to shreds as she gave up and let hot tears trickle down her cheeks.
She truly was cursed. The beauty and position looked on by so many as advantages in life were weighing her down, dragging her straight into hell. Except she was still breathing, which meant she could look forward to many, many years of living with the knowledge of just what fate had deprived her of.
Perhaps ye’re being emotional…
Brenda looked around the chamber, noting the fact that everything of his was gone.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been shown she had no worth after she’d been bedded. So many people thought her a tease for the way she brazenly told men she would not have them, and yet the truth was she knew from bitter experience her worth lay only in the challenge she presented.
And the dowry she might bring.
Bothan is no’ so shallow…
No, he was a practical man. One who lived a simple life. And she represented trouble with the Campbells. A clan that would never leave the Gunns in peace if she remained with them.
Perhaps it was a kindness to leave her before she woke next to him.
Brenda wiped her tears and dressed. Bothan was precisely what she had always admired about him.
A good chief.
He is a fine man, as well…
Yet he was gone now as the dawn lit the horizon. Just as she would need to resume her role as the cousin of the Grant laird. The Earl of Sutherland had said it so very well—she had always known her marriage bed would not be crafted to suit her personal choices.
No, there would only be stolen moments in the darkness when she might follow her heart and passion.
She found her composure in the fact that Bothan was no different. Happy unions were the domain of the simple people. They had no position, no wealth, but they had free choice. The world was such a strange place where everyone coveted what the other had without thinking about how much they themselves were envied.
* * *
He’d take her home.
Bothan tightened his grip on his emotions. He’d failed to safeguard his own wife.
It was a deficit there was no making excuses for. At least, he would not be offering any. The decision tore at his gut. Yet he wrestled with it, forbidding himself to go to Brenda.
All he wanted to do was linger beside her, watch her wake after sleeping next to him, and see the way she took him in, still there next to him.
Christ, he wanted to watch her recall how she’d invited him into her bed.
But it would be the coward’s way.
Bothan gritted his teeth and worked to saddle his mount. He had failed in the most basic duty of a husband, so he wouldn’t force Brenda to accept him. Passion was one thing, but there had to be more between them.
He wasn’t going to have her settle for less from him.
He might not have a castle, but he’d protect her, and if he couldn’t, he’d send her back to her family, where she would never again know the fear of waking up with someone like Hamell Campbell looming over her.