Her brother was a hard-looking man.
Daphne tried not to think of him as a savage, but she heard it being whispered by the maids near the back of the great hall when she entered. There was something in his dark eyes that made her suspect he heard them. Which wasn’t possible, not with the number of people assembled to see the new laird.
Saer was dark haired like his mother. But he had their father’s features. He didn’t wear a doublet, just a sleeveless jerkin, and his shirt was tied up to bare his arms. Every muscle was defined. His hair was longer than his shoulders, and he had a single braid running down one side to hold it back from his face.
Daphne stopped at the entrance of the great hall, pausing for a moment to regard the son her father had so often lamented not being able to raise. Saer might hate her. He had more than one reason to. She was the child of the woman who had refused to share her castle with his mother, and she was a sister he would now shoulder the burden of either providing for or dowering.
He might send her back to the Church, but even they would not take her without a dowry. She moved forward; she wouldn’t know until she faced him. Norris stood beside Saer, making it clear who had the Sutherlands’ support as laird.
She stopped at the steps leading up to the platform where the high table sat and lowered herself. Daphne remained still, waiting for her brother to raise her. There were muffled whispers behind her, but she waited, making it clear she accepted Saer as her laird.
Good. That was what the MacLeods needed. Unity and an end to all the uncertainty.
“Ye are as delicate as a fairy.”
Daphne straightened up instantly.
“But a fiery one by the look on yer face,” Saer continued.
“Yer sister has a stubborn nature,” Norris agreed. “She follows her whims no matter the consequences.”
“If that were so, ye would nae be asking for me assistance,” Saer boldly countered. They were a good match for each other. Both of them taller than the average man, with thick muscles attesting to just how accomplished they were at doing things for themselves. Neither man took his position for granted.
“I do nae need to ask yer permission,” Norris remarked with unmistakable authority.
“But many would say I’m a savage from the isles who does nae understand anything of loyalty,” Saer replied softly.
For a moment, tension filled the hall. Saer and Norris stared each other down while the MacLeods looked on.
“Even if that were so, ye’d still understand the importance of keeping blood close,” Norris informed him.
Gahan had stepped up behind his laird, while another man with a dark scar running down his right cheek stood behind Saer.
Her brother turned to look at her. “I understand ye refused to swear to Comyn, and yer back is as battered as yer face because of it.”
“Yes,” she answered. “Fairies are creatures of the land and therefore hearty.”
Saer chuckled. He shared an amused look with Norris. “I believe it is going to be greatly amusing to hear ye thank me for granting ye yer wish, because me sister is going to make ye sorry.”
Norris smiled slowly and with a great deal of satisfaction. He turned his attention to her, and her knees threatened to give way. He looked like he’d won some victory, one that pleased him greatly.
“Set yer woman to packing yer things, Daphne. Ye’ll be returning to Sutherland with me.”
“I will nae.” For a moment she forgot where she was. The sound of disapproving grunts reminded her instantly that so many were watching.
Father Peter would have her in the stocks before midday. Even that idea wasn’t enough to make her lower herself. She glared at Norris, refusing to give him even a nod.
“There is nae reason for me to go with ye,” she insisted.
His smile never faded; it just became more menacing. “Do ye deny sharing yer bed with me two nights past, Daphne MacLeod?”
He was adding her last name to ensure everyone heard and understood. Her checks burned scarlet, but she refused to lower her chin. Maybe he was the heir to the most powerful earldom in the Highlands, but she did not belong to him.
Saer added his own demand. “Answer the question, Sister. Is the man telling me the truth?”
Gahan stepped to the side, making to place himself between Saer and Norris.
“Hold,” Norris told his man. “It’s the God-given right of every man to fight for the honor of his sister.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Daphne exploded. “There will be no fighting on me account.” She shot Norris a scathing look. “Aye. Ye were in me bed two nights past, me laird.”
“Then the man has the right to insist ye travel with him,” Saer informed her. “Even if I have little liking for the insinuation that I can nae protect what is mine.”
“As I do nae appreciate hearing ye question me motives for taking yer sister with me. A Sutherland should be born on Sutherland land,” Norris remarked. “Naught was said of yer lack of ability. I’m no sniveling Englishman to offer insults through veiled pleasantries.”
Norris stared at her brother for a long moment before her brother nodded. “In the short time I’ve known ye, that seems to be true enough. But it is still less than complimentary that ye feel the need to take me sister with ye.”
“Actually, it is a compliment.”
There were more than a few dry chuckles in response. Daphne lost control over her temper.
“No, it is nae. Besides, ye could send word to him if I’m”—she forced the word past her lips—“carrying.”
“The decision is made.” Norris spoke loudly enough for even the kitchen boys to hear him. “We leave within the hour.”
Norris turned and walked away, and Saer followed him. Daphne found herself standing in the center of her own people as they watched her curiously. The men fingered their beards, contemplating her, while the women leaned close to whisper in one another’s ears. Father Peter stood off to the side, his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his church robe.
It was Gitta who cupped her shoulders and turned her around. The kind touch broke through the shock paralyzing her.
Which allowed her temper to blaze with full fury.
***
“What is on yer mind, Laird?” Gahan asked the question the moment Norris took his leave of Saer. They were alone for a few moments while they walked through the stone hallways of the back of the keep. It was dark and musty in the passageway, the stone keeping the sun far away.
“That there is bound to be turmoil here as the new laird takes his place,” Norris offered.
His half brother cut him a hard look. “She’s his sister. ’Twas her father who sent the man away. If he’s intent on holding a grudge, she’ll have to weather it.”
“She comes,” Norris insisted quietly. “Make sure there is a cart for her. She’ll nae be able to ride with her back black and blue.” He stopped and sent Gahan a hard look. “And I do nae want to discuss me choice again.”
There were few men who wouldn’t have backed off at that moment. Norris knew their reasons. Some valued their position more than their pride, while others had families to provide for. Gahan stared him straight in the eye without flinching.
“The girl has been under yer skin since Sauchieburn.”
Norris started moving again. “I’m nae saying why she comes, only that she does.”
“A cart will slow our pace.”
“Aye, it will,” Norris muttered. “But ’tis nae her choice, ’tis mine.”
Gahan nodded and fell into step behind him. The passage gave way to the main yard. Norris’s retainers were there, checking their horses. A two-wheeled cart was hitched to a sturdy-looking horse. It would slow them down, and many of his men were eyeing it, disgruntled.
***
“Everything will be well.” Gitta cooed like a mother trying to soothe her child. “He’ll see ye have everything ye need.”
Maids were bumping into one another as they tried to bundle Daphne’s belongings. Gitta helped her into a sturdy wool dress that would travel well and keep her warm. Her old nurse draped a length of MacLeod plaid over her shoulder and sniffled as she secured it around her waist with a belt. The wool was pleated across her back, with a portion of it held on her right shoulder with a brooch. The arisaid would help keep her warm, and she could raise the portion draped across her back to cover her head for warmth or shelter from rain. The English scorned the garment, because it wasn’t really a garment at all, simply a length of wool. But it was a traditional garment that reached back into centuries past—a Highland tradition.
“We’d best go now.”
Too soon, they were on the bottom floor of the tower. Her brother stood there, his man at his back. Saer sent Gitta away with a flick of his fingers.
“The man is me overlord, and fighting with him will nae be good for any of us,” Saer offered, but she could hear the discontentment in his voice. There was a hope in his dark eyes, one that sent a chill down her spine because she realized her brother wasn’t very content with what Norris had demanded of him. Saer wouldn’t loathe fighting him over it, if she gave him reason. But her brother was a hardened man too.
“I agree, ye have enough battles here and do nae need any with the Sutherlands. ’Tis a pitiful inheritance ye have come home to shoulder.”
Saer lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “Did ye lay with him of yer own will?”
It wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. Shock held her silent for a long moment.
“If not, I’ll gladly run him through,” her brother offered quietly, proving she’d judged him well.
“He’s yer overlord. Ye’ll have enough trouble trying to feed yer clan this winter.”
“Ye’re me blood,” Saer answered. “Me only blood. Me mother taught me a thing or two about how to weather hard times. Did he rape ye?”
She shook her head.
“Demand ye submit because of his position?” Saer continued, determination flickering in his eyes.
Her cheeks heated as her memory offered up a perfect recollection of just how much Norris had demanded of her.
And ye demanded just as much in return…
She shook her head again.
“Keith told me of how yer betrothal was broken.” Instead of scorn, she heard a note of appreciation in Saer’s voice.
“Aye. I disgraced meself.”
Her brother snorted and grinned. “The way I heard the tale, ye saved yerself from a union that was destructive to peace. Ye do look like a delicate fairy, but ye have something solid inside ye. I admire that. No boy king should be telling ye whom to give children to. ’Tis a gift a woman should have the right to decide whom she bestows it on.”
“And do ye intend to choose yer bride by which woman will decide she likes ye?”
Saer smirked at her, looking just as bold as Norris so often did. “When I find the one I want, I plan to kiss her until she yields, just as Norris Sutherland seems to have done with ye. Ye look at him like a woman who knows what she likes in her bed.”
“I have known no other man except him.”
Her brother laughed at the stunned look on her face. “Go on, but know ye are always welcome here.”
Tears pricked her eyes, but she enjoyed the feeling, because it had been too long since she had felt the closeness of family.
“Ye are nae quite the savage everyone whispers ye are.”
His grin widened, and his teeth flashed. “Yes, I am. Never doubt that, Sister, for I plan never to change.”
“Careful. Father Peter likes to hand out stiff penances for pride,” she warned him.
“It is nae pride, Sister, ’tis who I am,” Saer informed her with a wink. “Better the fine servant of the Church save his prayers for those who wrong me, because I will have no mercy on them.” His gaze settled on one of her bruises. “Father Peter can begin with Morrell Comyn, for I’ve a score to settle with the man. While I am laird of the MacLeods, no man steals from us or touches me kin.”
His teasing nature had turned cold, giving her a brief glance of the man who had survived in exile on the isles. He was ruthless, but seeing it gave her solace. The people she’d tried so hard to shepherd in the last month would not suffer under his leadership. Even if the days were hard, she believed he would be strong enough to see them through the coming year.
“There is much for ye to do, Saer. The crops will be poor, and there is no fleece. The men went off to fight at Sauchieburn instead of doing the shearing.”
He continued to stare at her with solid confidence in his dark eyes. “Have faith, Sister. I’ll make sure no one starves. Besides, the wool would have been stolen if it had been sheared. Now the sheep will be warm and happy through the winter. Come spring, they will be glad to be rid of their bulk. The land will yield what we need to survive. Trust that I know a thing or two about how to find enough.”
Someone cleared his throat, and they looked up to see Gahan standing in the doorway. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet in respect. Saer’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded in return. He shot her a firm look and raised his voice so Gahan could not mistake his words.
“But remember what I told ye. There is a home for ye here. No matter the circumstances ye discover yerself in. Ye will be welcome beneath this roof.”
***
She was shocked—but in a good way. The feeling was warm and secure, and for a few moments she lingered there, just enjoying knowing she had a place to call home.
It seemed like it had been forever since she had left for her wedding to Broen MacNicols and ended up taking refuge in a convent. It had been a full year, yet it felt much longer, for she was not the child who had left home. Was she a woman?
Norris has certainly treated ye like one…
She smiled at her thoughts and stepped out into the sunlight. The yard was full of Sutherland retainers. They wore their colors proudly and gave their allegiance to their laird without hesitation. There was a marked difference between these men and the ones who had watched Morrell beat her. It was honor, and it flowed from their laird. She had to scan the yard to find Norris, because he was doing exactly what his men were doing. There was no waiting about while his horse was readied for him. No, Norris was reaching beneath the belly of his stallion to check the strap with his hand.
But the man looked at her too confidently. He was too sure of his decision, too secure in the knowledge of his power. He was the heir to the Earldom of Sutherland. She tried not to dwell on that fact. Or on the way his men were all making ready to leave. She stared at the cart, her stomach knotting with something she refused to name, because she couldn’t admit she was afraid of him.
You’d be wise to fear him…
Once they made it to Sutherland territory, she’d be at his mercy. No one there would go against the laird. Two of his retainers moved toward her, and she felt like a noose was being knotted around her throat. They tugged on the corners of their bonnets before extending their hands out toward the cart.
She shook her head, not even sure what she was refusing—the cart or the journey, only that every muscle she had was tight with resistance. The retainers looked confused. They glanced back at the cart and tried to decide what her objection was. The cart was wide and had a thick canopy stretched over its top to shield her from the weather. Inside there were plump pillows to keep her from being jostled. There was even a small basket covered with a cloth that no doubt held food and drink. But she shook her head again.
Norris wasn’t as focused on preparing his stallion as he appeared to be. The moment she refused to get into the cart, he straightened and bore down on her. She felt him closing the distance between them and had to order herself to stand still, because the urge to retreat was ringing in her ears. He stopped in front of her, clearly battling his temper.
“Ye cannae mean to make me suffer the humiliation of going home with ye.” Daphne insisted, disliking just how close her tone was to pleading.
He stepped past her, captured her wrist, and tugged her along behind him until they’d reentered the keep. They were in the entryway, where the stairs led to the chambers above and doorways opened to the hall and armor room. Women were working at the hearth, the muffled sounds coming from the great hall, but for the moment they were alone.
“Do ye think I’ll leave ye here to sneak into the kitchen and brew yerself some concoction that will kill me seed?”
She jerked her wrist out of his grip and frowned when she realized he allowed her to escape. “That is me right, and I’d think ye’d thank me for nae trying to attach meself to ye like a leech.”
He grinned at her, surprising her with how cheerful he seemed in the face of her temper. He’d been raised to expect obedience as his due. Father Peter could sentence her to time in the stocks for forgetting her place. Norris continued to grin.
“Which is exactly why ye are coming home with me, Daphne.”
“I do nae understand ye a bit,” she informed him, exasperated.
He reached out and grabbed a handful of her skirts before she realized his intention. With a steady strength, he pulled her against him, and she realized he was making sure he didn’t hurt her by touching her back.
“But ye respond to me, lass, and that is why ye are coming with me.” There was a challenge burning in his green eyes. “Ye turned yer back on me at Sauchieburn, and it has badgered me ever since. So ye’re coming home with me where we can take all the time we need to discover just what manner of connection we have.”
He pressed a hard kiss onto her mouth. His lips teased hers for a long moment, sliding along the delicate surfaces and tasting them before he lifted his head.
“I did warn ye, Daphne.” He cupped her hips and turned her around so she was facing the door and the cart. She could still feel him behind her, his warm breath against her neck. Her skin rippled with sensation, far more sensitive than she’d ever known it to be. So quickly, she was reduced to responding to him again.
Just like a spell…
“Run, and I’ll run ye to ground. Ye may get into the cart, or I will put ye there.” He kissed the side of her neck, starting a chain reaction of sensations that traveled down her body.
“Aye, I recall yer warning clearly,” she offered, allowing her voice to grow sultry. “But what I’m wondering is just what game are ye playing? Have ye decided to bend me to yer will by using yer position? If so, ye are nae as different from Morrell Comyn as ye would like to believe. Ye are still a man, taking what he believes is his, and I am left feeling like a possession. Something I shall never be content as.”
She had turned to face him, and he considered her from narrowed eyes. “If that were so, lass, I’d happily leave ye here to ensure ye never have a cause to pester me with demands.”
“So why aren’t ye?” she demanded. “What is yer game, Norris Sutherland?”
He stepped toward her, meeting her demand head-on, and caught a handful of her skirt once more to keep her in place. “Have ye never considered yerself worthy of being coveted for just who ye be, Daphne?”
Confusion swept through her. “Ye can nae claim affection for me. We’ve known each other for so little time…”
Yet she’d dreamed of him for what seemed like every night they had been apart. She felt so exposed in that moment, as though he might reach forward and clamp a manacle around her heart. Then she’d be his possession by her own will.
“Such is nonsense,” she announced and pushed him away. As she felt the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand, a little ripple of awareness traveled along her arm. It unleashed a curl of anticipation in her belly, and she failed to hold back the memory of just how intimate it had been to be held against him in the dark hours of the night.
It had been bliss.
He cupped her chin and raised it so their eyes met. There was something burning in those green orbs that promised her that he was willing to challenge her rejections. He leaned down until his warm breath was teasing her lips, tormenting her with the idea of another kiss.
“As I said, lass, I’m taking ye home to see what it is about ye I can nae ignore. If ye want to view that as a demand, well then, I admit to enjoying yer responses to me demands.”
Her jaw dropped open, but at the same time, a flare of heat flashed through her. Part of it was arousal, but the other part was enjoyment. A savage, primitive sort of enjoyment from some part of her she hadn’t really realized she had. Deep inside, she was excited by the idea that he couldn’t ignore her.
“Ye’re a blackguard, Norris Sutherland.”
He chuckled. “Aye, and ye are more than me match, fairy.”
“Oh, now ’tis a fairy I am and nae a witch casting spells over ye?”
He grinned mockingly. “The fae folk are far more mystical and enchanting than a mere witch. Yer brother was right. Ye’re a fire fairy.”
“Then best ye mind yer fingers, else ye’ll end up blistered, me laird.”
This time he released her when she shoved against him. She stumbled back a step because she’d been pulling away from him so much.
“That’s me promise to ye, Norris Sutherland.”
She listened to him laughing all the way to the cart. His men turned to see what amused their laird, and she heard several muffled chuckles too. But the man had admitted he couldn’t ignore her, and nothing else seemed to matter.
***
Oh, damn the man and his pride.
Damn her for her lack of willpower…
They were a fitting pair; that much was for certain.
As expected, the cart slowed their pace. For the most part, they traveled by road to accommodate the cart she rode in. It was almost as if he enjoyed having her be seen with him. Those working in the fields stopped to look at them, many tugging on the corners of their bonnets as the son of the great Earl of Sutherland passed. He was more well-known than the king, and since James IV was a boy of only fifteen, Norris was more respected. Of course, there was no way for those passing to know who was in the cart, but they would guess it was a woman.
They’d whisper it was a bride.
She sighed. Well, she’d refused to become a bride once already. She still wasn’t sorry; she lamented only the need for her behavior.
Liar. Broen MacNicols never made ye feel like Norris does…
There was a truth in that that colored her cheeks, but what shamed her was the fact that she was so relieved. She might have lived her life never knowing what true passion felt like. Maybe she was mad, for it would make things much easier if there was not such a pull between her and Norris. It wasn’t normal. Or at least she suspected many would tell her to resist the attraction.
Her possessions were tied to several horses that followed the cart. Throughout the day they passed fields being harvested. Once they passed beyond MacLeod land, the fields were fuller. She discovered herself looking at the undamaged crops enviously while at the same time battling guilt for having left her people behind to suffer the winter. But her brother looked able to see to the MacLeods, which left her with nothing to contemplate but her own fate. She saw Norris only a few times throughout the day. He took command of his men very personally. The expression on his face was focused and intent. As he moved into different positions throughout the day, he surveyed the lines of retainers and the progress of her cart. There was nothing to do but think, and her mind wanted to dwell on Norris. Which wasn’t the brightest idea. She sighed and tried to contemplate something else, but her thoughts returned to where she was bound.
By his command.
That part rubbed her temper. It also seemed rather fitting. Father Peter would certainly think so, as well as delight in telling her how her own behavior was to blame for where she had landed.
But just where was she? The man’s mistress? No, she wasn’t that. His lover? She doubted their nights together entitled her to such a title. His vassal? Yes, but the custom of claiming the laird’s daughter on the night of her marriage didn’t really apply. Their entire relationship was a contradiction of everything she had been raised to expect from life. Of course, she’d been the one to step off the path of righteous behavior first, but it was very possible Norris had never set a single foot on it himself.
The man was such a blackguard. Yet, she had difficulty labeling him such. He was tender toward her, controlling his strength when there was no one to tell him otherwise. He’d saved her from a loveless marriage too, but taken her virginity as his price. He could have helped her deceive Broen MacNicols, but he hadn’t, and she realized it was because he might be a marauder, but he was not a liar. It couldn’t have been because he couldn’t resist her. To believe such a thing would be arrogant of her, but that left her pondering why he’d offered to help her avoid her wedding at all. Perhaps that was the saving grace of going to Sutherland with him. She just might learn the answer. Even if it cost her her heart along the way.
***
As the afternoon began to wane, some of the men took up their bows to shoot rabbits. They enjoyed keeping count and tied the downed ones to the backs of their saddles. They were farther north, which accounted for the chill once the sun began to set. The retainers buttoned their doublets and sleeves for the first time when they stopped for the night. Daphne crawled out of the cart, determined to stretch out her legs.
Fires were lit, and the rabbits were set to roasting. The scent of smoke tickled her nose. The men joked with one another as they tended to the horses. Norris had stopped them near the bank of a river, nestled next to a rise. She could hear it roaring. The men led their horses down to it to drink before returning and rubbing the animals down. There was ample grass for the animals to graze on, and they began slowly wandering as far as their bridle ropes would allow.
Daphne walked into the trees, seeking privacy. Once she reemerged, she realized she hadn’t been as unnoticed as she’d believed. Two younger men were halfway into the trees with their backs to her. They heard her steps and waited to make sure she was returning before looking back at her.
The cart had two wheels. While in motion, it was level. But when the horse had been unhitched, it tilted toward the ground. A pair of men were busy tying the long poles that had secured it to the horse to large rocks. Once they finished, the cart was level again, giving her a very pleasant place to sleep. They pulled the edges of the cover in tighter, to shield against rain, and pulled down two lengths that had been over the top to act as doors. Luxury, indeed.
But before she entered the cart, there was a cry and a flap of wings, and a peregrine falcon landed on one of the canopy poles. It considered her for a long moment from its large, dark eyes then fluffed its feathers and settled down. It was brown with white feathers along its belly and inside its wings. Tied to its ankle was a small leather pouch.
“That is Bacchus. He seems to like ye, which is rare.” Norris informed her as he approached. Already wearing a leather gauntlet, he extended his hand. Between his fingers he held a piece of raw meat. With a soft click, he summoned the falcon. Bacchus jumped onto his arm and took the offered meat with a soft cry.
The peregrine was another blunt reminder of just how much the Sutherlands had. The only purpose the raptor had was to ensure swift communication between Norris and his father.
She shouldn’t be envious, and yet she was.
Which was childish. It was like wishing she were born a princess without ever knowing one or listening to the demands such a royal daughter had to endure. No one’s life was free of responsibility. Norris might not want for food or a warm fire, but he was accompanied everywhere he went and had no doubt been raised on strict lectures about what he was expected to achieve because of who his parents were. Even Bacchus did not come freely. A raptor gave its loyalty only to the master who trained it. Norris must tend to the bird, else it would not have come to him.
Yet he seeks ye out…
It was a humbling thought and one that warmed her heart. She climbed back into the cart to avoid looking at Norris while thinking about him. The task proved more difficult than she’d imagined. Her back protested. Pain tore through her when she tried to lean over to duck beneath the cover. She had to hold her breath, only to lose it in a long hiss as she crawled into the makeshift tent. She collapsed onto the pillows, grateful for the flaps to shield her pride. Sweat had popped out on her forehead from the agony.
“That is why I did nae allow ye to ride,” Norris muttered softly from beside her feet. She lifted her head and glared at him when he peeked inside. “The pounding would have been torment for ye.”
“I’d have endured.”
The scent of roasted rabbit tickled her nose, and her belly rumbled. He offered her a stick with a steaming portion of meat on it.
“There is ale in the basket, to help with the pain.”
The flap dropped back into place the moment she’d taken the meat.
“Norris…”
He nudged the flap back, just enough to look in at her. His expression shamed her, for it was clear he expected her to argue with him.
“Thank ye.”
For a moment, his stony expression softened. He looked as though he even appreciated her gratitude, but she didn’t have long to consider just what she saw in his green eyes. He gave a short nod and dropped the flap again.
The light faded quickly, and the men did not keep the fires going. Soon it was pitch black inside the cart, with only a dull glow from the moon. But with her belly full, it was easy to slip into sleep. She pulled her arisaid up and over her head, shook out the folds that had been secured to her waist all day, and used it as a blanket. The pillows helped keep her back warm, but as the night grew colder, she shivered.
The wind was blowing down from the north, heralding the approach of winter. Her teeth began to chatter, and she gripped a pillow tighter against her chest. She pulled her knees up, curling around it to try and get warm, but her body shivered more violently.
“Here now, lass… What ails ye?”
She was half-asleep when Norris swept the flap aside.
“I’m well enough.” But she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering.
“Ye’re thin and injured,” he pronounced in a soft voice. “I should have realized the night air would cut into ye.”
“I’ll endure… well enough.”
“Aye, we will.”
She lifted her head at the use of the word “we.” The cart rocked when he climbed in and set his sword along the side. There was suddenly not enough space, but she could feel his body heat.
“Come here, Daphne. We’ll argue later about why ye do nae want me near.”
He gathered her close, touching her gently until he was pressed along her back. The man radiated heat. It felt like she was soaking it up, her body eager for more.
“Why…”
He smoothed his hand over her lips, silencing her. “We’ll nae sleep long, and ye need yer strength to continue to make me dance once we’ve made it to Dunrobin.”
“I am nae making ye dance.”
She wanted to stay awake, but her body was warm, and she yawned. Sleep was suddenly very easy to fall into. His scent filled her senses, granting her a contentment she felt only when he slept next to her. She flattened her hands against the arm he had draped over her waist and lost the battle to stay awake.
***
“Aye, ye are making me dance to yer tune,” Norris muttered once slumber had settled over her. He drew in a deep breath, savoring the scent of her skin. Sleep eluded him. Thoughts of Daphne kept him awake.
He should be frustrated. Instead he was amused by his emotions. They were insistent and impossible to shake. The only thing he feared was that Daphne didn’t harbor any feelings for him. He wouldn’t be the first man she’d refused. Neither would it be the first time she’d left him.
His arm tightened around her waist momentarily before he realized he was responding. He had no idea how much further his feelings might go, but he would find out soon enough. Even if Daphne spit in his eye the entire way.
***
Norris left at dawn. At least that’s what the man called it. Daphne rubbed her eyes, and with nothing but a faint pink glow on the horizon, stumbled from the cart to relieve herself. The Sutherland retainers were all massaging their horses’ legs to get the animals ready to ride.
Her back ached, but she still stopped and looked longingly at one of the horses burdened with her clothing.
Maybe she could ride…
The choice was taken from her as Gahan swept her right off her feet. She sputtered, but he carried her the last few paces to the cart and deposited her inside it while his men held the flaps open. The man had the audacity to tug on the corner of his bonnet before flashing her a smirk.
“I can ride well enough,” she informed him. But the cart jerked and began moving forward. He swung up onto the back of his stallion and dug his heels into its side to send it galloping up to the front of the line where Norris was.
She settled for hitting a pillow, but the soft impact offered her little satisfaction. The cart rumbled over the ruts in the road, making her scoot back into the corner to brace herself. The sun rose, and she enjoyed the warmth on her skin. By midafternoon, she’d taken shelter beneath the canopy to avoid getting sunburned, but the chill returned the moment the sun began to set.
Tonight the men did not hunt. They pushed on, lashing the cart to two horses when the road became steeper. The animals snorted with the effort but dug their hooves into the rocky ground that took her cart farther north.
She heard the village and pulled a corner of the canopy aside at the front of the cart to see it. The bells in the church began to ring, several of them, confirming just how well-off the Sutherlands were. The church was a sweeping structure, built in the shape of a huge cross, and rose several stories into the air.
But Dunrobin Castle dwarfed it. It was a true castle, not like MacLeod Tower. This had three large keeps, protected by a curtain wall. She could hear the sea behind it. Every ten feet along the curtain wall, the dark shapes of cannons reflected the light from the torches. In the darkness, it looked black with only the orange fire dancing along its stone surface.
In spite of the lateness of the hour, people came out of their homes to line the road. Children tumbled out of their beds, wearing nothing but their shirts, to wave as the retainers went by. The women pointed at the cart, turning their heads to watch it pass. The village was large, and people ran down the cobblestone-paved roads to see their laird’s son returning.
Norris was a prince here.
He raised a hand and waved, even tugging on the corner of his bonnet when he made eye contact with an elder of the clan. His people cheered, while in the distance she heard the large gate that secured the curtain wall begin grinding its way up.
The sound of the horses’ hooves clattering over the stones echoed loudly as they made their way beneath the gate. Even the inner yard was paved with cobblestones. It didn’t stink, telling her the Sutherlands did indeed have wealth, for they had enough servants to see to the removal of animal waste.
“It’s good to be home, lads!” Norris declared.
His men cheered as they dismounted.
“And fine it is to have me son home!” a new voice offered, one cracked by age. Everyone turned to look at the top of the stairs that led into the center keep.
“Thank ye for the welcome, Father.” Norris inclined his head toward the gray-haired man standing there. He was leaning on a cane, but there was still a sharpness to his eyes.
Every man in the yard offered the laird a tug on his bonnet before they set about taking their horses through an arched opening to the right of the keep. The animals pranced happily, clearly recognizing their home.
She was the only one not at home. Daphne hesitated at the edge of the cart, unsure of what to do. It would be foolish to stay inside the cart as if it offered some sort of protection, but she was also loath to step boldly forward as if she were arriving as some sort of honored guest. She wasn’t sure what she was.
“Here, mistress.”
One of the retainers had handed off his horse to a boy and was now offering her his hand. Another one did the same, giving her no more time for lingering. They lifted her up the moment she placed her hands in theirs, neither one of them content with just her hand. They slid their hands to her wrist for a more secure hold and used their greater strength to whisk her out of the cart.
Men watched from the top of the wall, some of them pointing at her the moment her dress made it clear she was a woman. There was enough light from the torches to show off her MacLeod arisaid. As well as the bruises on her face.
“May I present Daphne MacLeod, Father.”
The retainers helping her relinquished their hold the moment they’d guided her near Norris. “Lytge Sutherland.”
She lowered herself, not truly thinking about it, but the motion had been instilled in her since childhood. The earl peered at her, studying her face for a long time before grunting.
“MacLeods are welcome here.” He turned, the frailty of his body evident in his faltering steps. But he waved away the men who tried to offer him assistance.
Norris captured her hand and led her up the steps to the doorway of the keep. It was a huge, arched entrance, with ten full steps to climb before reaching the landing.
“I need to speak with me father,” Norris muttered softly. “This is Asgree, head of house at Dunrobin. She’ll see to ye.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, bestowing a kiss on the back of it while the head of house looked on. A line of maids stood neatly behind the woman, and they smothered their giggles. Norris winked at her then tugged on the corner of his bonnet and followed his father. For just a moment she watched the firelight dance off the hilt of his sword, where it was secured across his back the same as any of his men. The longer folds of his kilt swayed as he moved rapidly to catch up with his father.
“I should think a bath would suit ye well.”
Daphne turned her attention back to Asgree, grateful for the darkness, because it hid the color staining her cheeks. She chided herself for getting caught staring at Norris like a besotted fool—or an enchanted mistress. The older woman hid her thoughts behind a pleasant expression, but her eyes were full of knowledge.
“Yes, thank ye.”
Daphne still found it hard to walk through the massive doorway, because it felt like a surrender of sorts.
Like admitting she was Norris’s mistress.
She shuffled her feet and earned a sidelong look from Asgree. The maids were still standing in a line, their heads all covered by linen caps that looked ironed. They wore matching household livery, to keep strangers from easily infiltrating the earl’s staff.
“Are ye stiff from the journey?” Asgree asked.
Daphne shook her head and cringed when she heard the gate being lowered back into place. There was nowhere to go but in, so she stepped over the threshold. Candles illuminated the inside of the keep. There were stairs to the right and an entrance to the great hall on the left. The scent of bread lingered from supper, making her mouth water. Her belly rumbled long and loud.
“There will be stew from supper and fruit, fresh from the harvest,” Asgree extended her hand toward a smaller doorway near the base of the stairs. “I think we should wash yer hair first, so it might dry while ye’re breaking yer fast.”
“Thank ye.” Daphne lowered herself out of habit, earning a curious look from the head of house.
“Ye are me laird’s guest. But I see ye have pretty manners. Such a thing is a skill many forget to value.”
But it was clear from her tone she thought Daphne was there to warm his bed and nothing more. Clearly, she wasn’t the first woman Norris had brought home. Or was she? There was no way to know except to ask him.
And what will ye do if he tells ye there have been no others?
What indeed. It was tempting to smile, because the idea pleased her. Asgree led her through the doorway and down a section of steps to a hallway. The candles were lit in the sconces, their yellow flames dancing as the women walked by and disturbed the air. The scent of beeswax spoke of the means of the Sutherlands once again, because, even here, there were no tallow candles, only the best beeswax.
Asgree snapped her fingers, and two of the maids grabbed up their skirts so they might hurry ahead. The girls pulled open the doors that led to the bathhouse. Daphne could smell the water, but it wasn’t dank. There was a slight scent of lye and rosemary but no mold.
“The men have their own bathhouse near the stables. We will nae be disturbed.” Asgree snapped her fingers again, and the maids began to prepare a large tub. It had been stored against the wall so water would not pool in its bottom. They placed it on the floor and pushed it toward a large hearth. Another girl was adding wood to the hearth and pushing it into the ash. She picked up a bellows and blew air into the coals until they flashed with a bright yellow flame. The wood popped as it caught, and soon the room was brighter.
The last two girls began to take off her clothing. They reached for the lacing that ran down the back of her overdress, but Daphne stepped away from them.
“I do nae require service.”
They peered at her like she’d gone mad. To their way of thinking, she had. Norris was the heir, and whomever he brought home as his guest would be served.
“Ye can nae unlace that dress yerself.” Asgree spoke evenly as she walked in a circle around her. “The laces are down the back. Ye must have had a waiting woman help ye into it.”
“Gitta was me nurse. We helped each other, really.”
“And here we shall make sure she would have naught to critique us for,” Asgree insisted. She sent the girls back toward Daphne with a flick of her fingers.
Daphne forced herself to stand still. It was ridiculous to worry so much about having other women in the room with her while she was bare. In fact, it was dangerous, for there might be rumors that she was misshapen or had marks from the devil. Inhabitants of a castle always gossiped. There would be plenty to keep the maids talking once her back was bared. There really was nothing to worry about, because Norris’s men knew how she had come by the bruises. The castle folk might talk, but it would not be malicious gossip. Still, she cringed when the maid lifted her chemise and let out a startled cry. Asgree had walked over to the tub to oversee its filling, but she hurried back.
“Sweet Mary.”
“It truly is nae so terrible,” Daphne offered, crossing her arms over her breasts.
“No wonder the laird had ye brought by cart. These are deep.” Asgree snapped her fingers once again. “Tell the cook to brew up something for the ache.”
One of the maids lowered herself before moving off toward the doorway. Another girl brought a stool forward for Daphne to sit on while her boots were removed.
In short order, she was easing herself down into the half-full tub of water. Asgree oversaw the entire bath, proving she was a dedicated mistress of Dunrobin. The older woman wasn’t satisfied with leaving any detail to her maids. She frowned when Daphne’s hair was loosened and its short length revealed.
“Were ye ill with the fever?” she asked. “I do wonder why ye are so thin. Ye are nae healthy.”
“Nae.” Daphne chewed on her lower lip, but the head of house had stopped in front of her and aimed an expectant look at her. As head of house, Asgree did not suffer having her questions ignored. “I went to a convent to avoid the match me father had made. Since I was nae content, I spent every hour at chores to keep me mind off me dilemma, and the food was very humble.”
Asgree’s eyebrows lifted until they practically disappeared beneath the edge of her linen cap.
One of the maids spoke up. “Ye were betrothed to Broen MacNicols.”
“Alice, mind yer tongue,” Asgree warned the girl. The maid lowered herself immediately. “I’ve no tolerance for gossip. Go and make sure the cook knows our guest is hungry. Flanna, go with her, and the pair of ye make sure the star chamber is ready. One of ye tell the cook our guest will eat in her chamber. Tomorrow will be soon enough for ye to suffer having a dress tightened against those bruises,” Asgree declared, “as well as let the rest of those chattering hens get a look at ye in the hall.”
The two maids left, and another brought forward a clean chemise. As much as Daphne hadn’t enjoyed being stripped, she was very happy to have clean skin and clothing. Asgree knew her art well, and her staff was trained to perfection. Before long, a thick dressing robe was keeping her warm, and a pair of carpet slippers shielded her feet from the chilly stone floors.
***
“She’s the MacLeod lass with the fortune,” Alice declared once they’d cleared the hallway.
“Ye do nae know much more about her than I do,” Flanna accused.
“It is true,” Alice insisted in a whisper. “Why else would the laird have her beaten if there was no fortune?”
“He does nae need to beat her to make her wed him,” Flanna argued while peeking at the doorway of the star chamber to make sure Asgree or one of her assistants didn’t notice them. There would be hell to pay if they were caught gossiping. The room was empty, and they began to pull the sheeting off the furniture to make it ready.
“Yes, he does. Did nae ye hear? Do nae ye know why her hair is short?” Alice smiled with glee. “Me cousin heard it from her husband’s niece. Daphne MacLeod refused to wed Broen MacNicols. She went into the convent on Grant land and cut her hair.”
Flanna covered her gaping mouth with one hand. “Surely the Church would nae let her get away if she had a fortune for a dowry.”
Alice shrugged. “No doubt it was the battle of Sauchieburn that allowed her to escape, but she’s learned the power of nae bending to any man’s rule over her. She must have refused the laird when he sought her out now that his own bride is gone to Laird MacNicols. A fine trade if ye ask me, but she is overly proud and thinks herself above having a husband to master her.”
“Just like the priest says…”
“Aye,” Alice agreed. “She’s acting unnatural now that she’s been allowed to think herself able to make her own choices.”
“No doubt the laird helped her lose her virtue so he might claim her fine dowry too, but his father had gone and made the match with the York bastard,” Flanna continued. “Now that he’s free to wed again, it makes sense he’d go looking for that fortune.”
The two maids finished in the chamber then made their way to the kitchens to tell their friends of their discoveries. Everyone at Dunrobin was curious about the female Norris had brought home.
***
“The laird’s wife, Norris’s mother, had a passion for painting,” Asgree explained.
“It’s lovely,” Daphne murmured as she slowly turned about to survey the paintings on the walls of the chamber. It was easy to understand why it was called the star chamber, for there were paintings of the night sky all over the walls. The detail was impressive, the different constellations clearly portrayed during different seasons.
“We’ve other chambers decorated with her visions.”
Daphne held out her hands to warm them over the fire. “Ye do nae have to waste wood this early in the season for me.”
“This is Sutherland. It is already freezing at night because of how far north we are.”
“Oh.” She turned to discover Asgree extending her hand toward a chair. The chamber itself was twice the size of the one she used at MacLeod Tower. There was a table and four chairs off to one side. A tablecloth was spread out already, making Daphne bite her lip over the amount of effort the staff was going to for her comfort. It was certainly a stark contrast to life at the convent. Of course life at MacLeod Tower had been stark too.
She felt guilty as she sat down, the faces of those she’d left behind needling her. But the determination in her brother’s eyes helped ease her worry. Saer was not a man easily defeated. She smiled as she contemplated what her brother would think of her pity. He’d spit on it.
“This is young Alice. Ye can trust any food she brings ye. Her family has served Dunrobin for three generations.” Alice lowered herself then held a silver serving tray while Asgree lifted each dish and inspected it before setting it in front of Daphne. There was a soup terrine, bread, fruit, and even cheese.
“Do nae take anything from a maid ye do nae know.”
The scent of warm stew had distracted her, but Asgree’s warning startled her. “Why? I am of little importance.”
“Ye are the personal guest of the Earl of Sutherland’s heir. Many would consider ye a target worth hitting to strike at him or his father. Those seeking vengeance often lack honor.”
Personal guest… Mistress was the word going through all their heads.
“We have no arrangement.” Daphne squelched the urge to lower her gaze to the tabletop. Instead, she stared straight into Asgree’s eyes. “But I have known him. Yer laird brought me here to prove I am nae carrying his child. He claims the Sutherlands keep their blood close.”
There was no point in denying it, and yet she took a certain satisfaction in telling the head of house herself.
“Ye spoke the truth about living in a convent for the last year,” Asgree muttered as she lifted the lid off the bowl, releasing a white puff of steam. “Ye have learned to speak plainly, no matter what others might decide to judge ye for. ’Tis a trait a woman learns only when she’s on her own.”
Daphne’s mouth watered, and she lost the battle not to stare at the food. It was a thick stew with chunks of meat and root vegetables. There was barely any broth, and she stared, soaking up the sight of it. It had been a very long time since she’d seen such a bountiful meal.
She was shaking when she reached for the spoon, and it clattered back to the tabletop. She grabbed it again.
“No one will enter without knocking.”
With the spoon against her lips, Daphne looked up at Asgree. The head of house lowered herself, and the six maids with her did the same. They turned in a swirl of burgundy wool skirts and left the chamber.
She heard the sound of the spoon scraping against the sides of the bowl as she tried to get every last bit of stew. Before she sat back, she broke off a piece of bread and used it to soak up what residue remained. There was nothing but a slight gloss left on the bottom of the bowl when she relaxed against the back of the chair.
She straightened up instantly when she made contact with the hard back of the chair, pain ruining her enjoyment of the meal. Well, it really wasn’t enough discomfort to destroy the contentment of having a full belly—overfull, really. She looked at the cheese and knew her stomach would not accommodate even a small nibble. So she placed a small square of linen left for her to wipe her lips on over the cheese and fruit. Maybe later.
She shook her head at her gluttony. At least it was one sin she wouldn’t mind being able to commit for a change.
Ye did nae mind partaking of lust with Norris either…
Personal guest. Well, she was that, sure enough, and she had enjoyed having Norris in her bed.
As yer lover…
Now there was a word she had never thought to have personal experience of. As long as she could recall, her future had been planned. It had never been something she fretted over, either. Many girls never met their intended grooms until the wedding; she’d been fortunate to know Broen MacNicols. He was even a friend. They might have been content with each other if fate hadn’t decided otherwise. Many would condemn her for not taking her place—but at the cost of peace? Even the meager food and cold in the convent hadn’t made her regret her choice.
That didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the lingering taste of the stew on her lips. Or having a fire to warm the floor she walked across. Dunrobin was the finest place she had ever stayed in.
She walked across the chamber, marveling at the size of it. There was enough space between the table and the bed for her to dance. The bed itself was huge, with large posts that held iron rods for the bed curtains made of thick velvet, and she smoothed her fingers along one panel in awe. She might have expected to find such a lavish fabric hanging around the laird’s bed, or Norris’s—but not here, in a guest room.
Someone had turned down the bedding, exposing the sheets. They were creamy and smelled of heather. With her belly full for the first time in too long, she crawled under the covers and fell asleep before she had time to further enjoy the luxury encasing her.