Two

Matheson Tower

To Moira’s eyes, Matheson Tower was more impressive than Seabhac.

There were three main towers with thick curtain walls connecting them. Several cannon were set into the walls, and as they rode closer, the sound of construction drifted on the evening breeze. A bell began ringing up in one of the lookout towers. Soon more joined until all the bells were ringing. Men leaned out of the archer holes along the top of the wall to see who was approaching. There was a groan as the two men posted above the heavy iron gate unlocked it in case they were given the order to lower it.

Bari never slowed. He continued on and rode through the open gate without any resistance. By the time they made it to the inner yard, many of the Mathesons had come out to watch the visitors arriving. The women hung back but watched Moira intently. The Matheson retainers nodded, obviously expecting them.

“Where is she?”

Achaius Matheson still possessed a booming voice. She heard him before the laird made it out of the main keep. His men parted as he made his way to the top step. His hair was gray—at least what there was of it. Deep wrinkles covered his face, and a stringy beard covered his chin and neck.

“Where is me bride?” he demanded. “Get the lass closer, so I can see her.”

The Matheson retainers moved instantly. Moira’s mare sidestepped nervously as they closed in. For a moment, every muscle in her body tightened. Panic gripped her, and Athena flapped her wings as she felt the unease of her handler. The hawk’s hard feathers cut at her face. Moira regained her composure as she soothed the bird. She let the bird climb off the saddle perch and onto her arm. Athena let out a shrill cry before settling down again.

“So ye have a way with hawks?” Achaius said, his voice cracking a little.

“Me sister is an expert in raising and training hawks,” Bari said.

Moira ignored the hands offered to her and dismounted. Her skirts fluttered into place, and her feet ached as they took her weight for the first time in hours. Her hips were stiff and her mouth dry as bone because Bari had pushed them hard to make the distance before nightfall.

“I’ve lads aplenty to see to hawks. I crave a wife who knows how to soothe a man when his blood is up. Now get the lass up here where I can see her.”

Her belly twisted with nervous fear, but there was no refusing. Her only choice was to walk up the steps or be pushed up them by the Matheson retainers. She ordered herself to do it. Alba was relying on her. A retainer moved closer to her, tugging on his cap before offering his arm for Athena. At least it gave her a moment to compose herself as she handed the raptor off.

Achaius waited for her with a grin that displayed his rotten teeth. At least her feet stopped hurting by the time she made it to the top of the steps.

“Closer, lass.”

She held her chin steady and moved closer. He chuckled softly, then boldly reached out to cup her breast.

“What are ye doing?” The words were out of her mouth before she could think about it. She jumped back and collided with one of the Matheson men. The man hooked her under her arms and set her back in front of his laird like a supper plate. Shock filled her as Achaius reached for her breast once more. She was trapped, but what bothered her most was the sting of tears in her eyes.

She would not cry. No, she would not.

“Nice and plump…” Achaius cooed. “Turn around.”

The retainer behind her didn’t wait to see if she’d comply. He hooked her bicep and spun her around for his laird’s pleasure. Try as she might, her eyes still widened when Achaius boldly patted her bottom in full view of all. The Matheson retainer in front of her stared right past her, his face set in a bored expression.

Obviously she was not the first bride to be welcomed in such a manner.

A strong voice rang out from below. “Laird Matheson, are ye greeting a bride or inspecting a mare?”

Whoever the newcomer was, the Matheson retainers responded to him. The ones crowding her close to Achaius moved away, suddenly torn between their laird’s wishes and whoever had spoken.

Achaius snorted. “A wife is meant to be ridden, is she nae?” He turned and stumbled. His men were quick to right their laird, proving they were accustomed to his lack of balance. “Mind yer tongue, Gahan Sutherland. Being Sutherland’s son means ye have the right to witness me wedding, but ye’re still bastard-born and have no say over how I welcome me bride. I like to know what I’m getting before I let them inside to sup at me table.”

“What in hell is he doing here?” Bari demanded.

Achaius let out a growl. “Ye’ll mind yer place as well, Bari Fraser. This is Matheson land—my land—and whoever is on it is here by my say so.”

Achaius grumbled as he stumbled back through the open doors. His men followed, granting Moira some relief. It was short-lived though, as Gahan stepped toward Bari. Her brother wasn’t small, but Gahan was a huge man. He had devil-dark hair and wide shoulders packed with hard muscle. The man didn’t seem to feel the chill in the air; his shirt sleeves were rolled up and tied at the shoulders, the muscles along his arms clearly on display.

She was no stranger to listening to Bari proclaim his position, but this man radiated authority. It surrounded him so thickly she would have sworn she could taste it. Gahan glanced at her, and for a moment she was transfixed. It was the briefest moment, yet she felt as if the man looked straight into her soul. Sensation rippled along her skin in response.

“Ye seem to have forgotten to tell me father that ye had contracted yer sister to Matheson.” Gahan’s voice was smooth and even, but there was a core of solid steel in it too.

“After ye allowed Sandra to die on yer land?”

Gahan crossed his arms over his chest. “That bitch poisoned me father. Either confess ye knew her plan or condemn her as a murderess.”

“I will nae—” Bari shut his mouth so hard his teeth clicked.

“Will nae what?” Gahan pressed. He took another step toward Bari.

“Discuss it with ye.”

Gahan and the other Sutherland retainers were not satisfied with his answer. They pressed forward. Bari suddenly reached for Moira, his fingers biting into her bicep as he dragged her up beside him.

“Moira is me half sister, and her mother was common-born. Something ye should know a bit about, bastard.”

“I know a thing or two about it,” Gahan agreed as he reached out and captured her other bicep. Unlike her brother’s grip, his didn’t hurt, but it was firm and unbreakable. “And I know what a man looks like when he’s hiding behind a woman.”

Gahan set her behind him in a swift motion. In the same instant, his other hand captured Bari’s wrist and twisted it upward. Moira stumbled into Gahan’s men, who parted to allow her through, then closed ranks behind their laird once again. She ended up in the doorway of the keep.

“Nae that I should be surprised. Ye let Sandra stand in front of ye as well.”

Bari shouted, “I’m escorting Moira to her groom. It’s a good match, better than her common birth deserves.”

“And why are ye in a hurry to celebrate this wedding?”

“It’s spring,” Bari said. “If Matheson made ye welcome, it’s his business. But me sister is going to wed him.”

Bari stormed through the Sutherland retainers and renewed his grip on her arm. As he pulled her into the keep, she looked back. She really shouldn’t have but couldn’t seem to control her impulses. Gahan Sutherland was watching her, his black eyes glittering. She stared at him, astounded that she hadn’t heard even a hint of rage in his voice. His strength was more than flesh; it was there inside him too. The man didn’t need to raise his voice to make sure everyone knew how immovable his opinion was. There was an intensity that radiated off him. Even separated by several feet, she felt it. A curious sensation raced through her, leaving her breathless. When she looked forward again, her cheeks were warm with a blush—which was very bad. Because if there was one thing she didn’t need, it was to be blushing over Gahan Sutherland.

She was set to wed another man.

***

“Ye handled that well,” Cam muttered with a good dose of sarcasm.

“I did nae kill him,” Gahan replied. “All in all, I agree with ye.”

Cam gave him a raised eyebrow in response but Gahan wasn’t in the mood to banter with his sibling. “He’s up to no good.”

“Aye,” Cam agreed. “Yer suspicions are proving true. The cook is busy preparing a feast for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Aye,” Cam confirmed. “Bari is a hard man to be sending his sister to such an old man’s bed.”

“She might be in agreement. Sandra was nae innocent of scheming. As a common-born daughter, she would do well wedding herself to a laird.”

But there had still been something about her that seemed out of place, if indeed she was in agreement with her brother’s schemes. There had been no bright smile on her face, only a solid look of determination.

Gahan shook off his suspicions. The lass was set to do what her brother wanted, no matter her horror over the groom. He needed to listen to his gut instinct. Moira was kin to Sandra; that made her a master of deceit. She was using Achaius as much as the old man was planning on using her young flesh. It shouldn’t sicken him. At least not beyond the pure callous nature of it.

But it did.

***

“I do nae like him here,” Bari complained.

“Well, there is naught ye can do. The man is me overlord. Yers too,” Achaius groused. “I do nae know how he learned of the wedding, but it does nae matter. I cannae tell him to leave unless ye want him to know we plan to unite our clans against his father. He has the right, as me overlord’s son, to witness the wedding. The union will be stronger for it too.”

“Then let’s get the vows spoken.”

Achaius shook his head. “Nae until I have the dowry.”

“I brought it,” Bari snapped.

“Me secretary is still drawing up the contracts. Until ye sign them, the dowry is nae complete because of the land ye promised. Ye cannae claim to have that in yer hand.”

Bari slammed his mug down on the table. The door opened as one of the Matheson retainers looked into his laird’s private chamber to investigate the sound. Achaius gave the man a wave of his old hand, and the door shut again.

“Do nae make the mistake of thinking me a fool, lad.” Achaius was stopped by a coughing fit. It racked his body for several long moments before he cleared his throat. “Every bride I’ve wed increased the Matheson land. Yer sister will be no exception. Land is better than gold, because when ye have land, it can be farmed and the crops sold. Land is a man’s true wealth. I’ll see the papers signed and witnessed before there is any visit to the church.”

“If that was yer feeling, ye had some nerve handling her so publicly.”

“I’ve got nerve aplenty, lad, which is why ye’re sitting here. For all yer words of how worthless yer sister is, she’s something I want, and ye know it.”

“Half sister,” Bari corrected. “Her mother was me father’s second wife. A common-born woman.”

“Ah, yes. Ye see? Yer father knew the value of wedding, and I bet his second wife brought gold or silver with her since she did nae have a claim to a fine family.” Achaius took a swig from his mug and smiled as he swallowed. “Now Sandra was a fine bit of woman. I’d have enjoyed spreading her out in me bed.” He reached down and rubbed his crotch. “I’m hard just thinking about it.”

Bari snarled, and Achaius chuckled.

“Was she meant for better men than me?” He leaned forward. “Do ye think I do nae know ye would never have offered her to me?”

“Sandra was a rare beauty.”

“And a conniving bitch.” Achaius pounded a fist on the table. “Better ye understand, lad, I’ll be the master here.”

Bari set his mug down. “Maybe I should take me offer and go, because ye promised ye’d ride out against the Sutherlands with me in exchange for me sister. It seems all ye are interested in at the moment is fucking and collecting land from me.”

“Until I have the contracts signed and sealed, that is all I’m interested in. I agreed to the match and yer terms of riding against the Sutherlands in exchange for the land ye agreed to settle on Moira. Money a man can make, but land, well, that is something they do nae make any more of. That’s what set yer sister above the other lasses I might have chosen. Ye are nae the only man who knows me retainers are the best and plentiful.”

“Then we’re still agreed. Let’s get the vows spoken,” Bari pressed.

Laird Matheson held up his hand as Bari stood up. “Tomorrow will be soon enough. Yer sister will have less fight in her after a sleepless night.”

“She’ll do her duty,” Bari promised.

“She nearly retched upon me boots when she got a good look at me, lad!” He laughed good and long but dissolved into a coughing fit. “Nae that I care. She’ll settle in, and it will be me pleasure to break her to ride. But ye’ll mind me, lad, on the matter of Gahan Sutherland. There will be no poisoning beneath me roof. I’ve enough trouble with the king.”

“Does it matter how he dies?”

“Aye, lad, it does. I’m a Highlander, even if age has had her way with me. The Matheson will ride out with ye because it will increase our lands. Until then, me overlord’s son is welcome here.”

“His bastard, ye mean,” Bari grumbled.

“But one the earl acknowledges. That makes all the difference, and ye know it,” Achaius insisted. “When ye add in the fact that the earl has only the one legitimate son, well now, his bastard becomes even more important. Especially when there seem to be no others. I hear Norris has no children either. The Sutherland blood is getting thin, it seems. He would nae be the first bastard getting a title in the Highlands. Besides, it will be good to have the union witnessed. The earl will nae argue if his own son was here and did nae stop it from happening.”

Bari nodded. “True. Since ye are planning to keep me here, I hope yer maids are friendly.”

Achaius waved him toward the door and reached for his mug again. He really was ancient-looking, but Bari didn’t bother concerning himself with that. He was laird of the Matheson, and that was what interested him. Sisters were meant to be used to further the clan’s interest.

Even Sandra had known that.

***

No one seemed to want to deal with her. Moira reluctantly watched the man holding Athena take the bird off to the yard. She had to curtail the impulse to keep the hawk with her. Just because she longed for companionship didn’t mean she had the right to deprive Athena of supper.

But no one else came near her. Moira stood in the hallway. Through an arched doorway she could see the Great Hall filled with tables and benches. Women were busy setting out baskets of bread for the evening meal. They stole peeks at her, but no one invited her in. Since she was to wed the laird, she really didn’t need an invitation, but it felt wrong to enter where she had not been bidden.

She sighed and chastised herself. Her current lack of courage wouldn’t do. Respect was earned. At least true respect was, and she wasn’t interested in the false sort that she’d witnessed Sandra getting.

Moira shifted away from the great hall, walking slowly down the hallway to get a look at her new home. To begin with, she’d get a sense of where things were. The light was dim now and the shadows growing deeper. The lamps in the passageways were not yet lit, but the window shutters were still open to let the fresh air in.

“Inspecting yer new possession?”

She recognized Gahan’s voice instantly. It was slightly unnerving how swiftly she identified him.

“Yer sister would have found it beneath her,” he added.

Gahan parted from the shadow of a doorway. The hall was farther behind her than she’d realized; the setting of the supper table was now only a dim buzz. A strange twist of excitement went through her belly, startling her. But it also left a bitter taste in her mouth, because she realized she preferred Gahan to her groom.

It was knowledge she could have done well without.

“Nae that I’d expect any less of any woman wedding such an old man,” Gahan informed her.

His tone was condescending at best, and it irritated her. He was her better. The fine weave of his kilt and the silver buttons running up the sides of his knee-high boots showed off just how much his father gave him. She should have kept her mouth shut, but her pride flared up and she propped her hand onto her hip.

“And will yer father give ye any choice when he contracts a bride for ye?” she questioned boldly. “Or will ye turn yer nose up no matter who is depending upon ye to do yer duty? Like a spoiled child who knows naught of the way alliances keep a clan safe?”

His eyes narrowed. For a moment, it looked like he was considering what she said, almost as if she’d surprised him somehow.

“Nae if me duty includes making sure me kin can start a feud.”

“I have no such desire.” She shouldn’t snap at him but just couldn’t squelch the urge. “A contented man”—she had to stop to swallow the lump lodged in her throat—“is happy to stay at home.”

He studied her for a long moment, one that felt far longer than it really could have been. She felt like he was looking at her thoughts, his gaze cutting past her realistic reasons, to see her true feelings.

“So what is it that draws ye to a man old enough to be yer grandfather? The title? I suppose I can believe that. Yer sister was certainly enchanted by titles.”

“Half sister.” She paused, realizing that what Bari had so often used to insult her was something she prided herself on.

“And I’m bastard-born,” he replied softly. “Which changes nothing when it comes to me loyalties. Or, I doubt, yers.”

He was trying to intimidate her, but instead, his words somehow impressed her. There was something in his dark eyes that intrigued her, and she stared into the dark orbs, trying to decipher it.

He snorted at her. “Do nae try it.”

“Try what?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and she suddenly realized just how close he was. There was no more than a pace between them now, and she jumped back, colliding with the hard stone of the wall. His lips twitched.

“I admit, ye play the innocent better than Sandra ever did, but ye’ll nae find it simple to seduce me.”

She straightened up, stepping away from the wall as her temper simmered. “Ye have no right to accuse me of nae being innocent. Or of trying to act like a harlot. Ye were the one waiting in the shadows.”

His lips parted to flash his teeth at her. “I knew ye had claws. Ye are a Fraser after all.”

There was a ring of triumph in his tone, which irritated her beyond every bit of self-discipline she had.

“What I have is the sense to know when I’m hearing naught but drivel. Son of an earl or nae, ye do nae have the right to insult me for obeying me laird. I do nae need the Matheson thinking I turned up me nose at their laird. Marriage is for forming alliances. I’m nae so selfish as to think an insult to a laird, like refusing his offer, will nae become a festering point of contention.”

But her voice lowered as she finished, and she had to push the last sentence past her lips because she just didn’t want to believe she was one day away from having to wed Achaius Matheson.

“And I was nae trying to seduce ye,” she added.

His grin remained arrogant and large, but he opened his arms, offering her a view of just how wide his chest was. “Ye were looking into me eyes.”

“And ye were looking into mine,” she countered. He was suddenly too large and the hallway far too compact to suit her. “Enough arrogance. Perhaps ye are accustomed to only the sort of women who like to seduce, but I am nae of that sort. I’m set to wed, and I do nae think it wise to be standing here acting like—”

“Like lovers flirting in the night shadows?”

His voice dipped low and sent a tingle along her limbs. There was a gleam of mischief in his dark eyes.

She shook her head, her tongue feeling frozen with shock.

“Nay, we are nae acting like lovers, or are ye arguing that we are nae lovers—yet?” He pressed forward another few inches.

Something snapped inside her. She gasped and went to shove him away from her.

“Ye obnoxious lout!”

She flattened her hands against his chest, but he didn’t budge. She’d used a fair amount of strength, but Gahan Sutherland only chuckled at her attempt to move him.

“Ye have no right to accuse me of such indecent things. Maybe there are plenty who would remind me that ye’re me better and can say what ye will, but I will do me duty.”

He closed his hands around hers, but he didn’t remove them from his chest. Instead, he trapped her there with her hands upon him.

“What if I told ye I would nae be opposed to becoming yer lover? I promise ye will find me bed more to yer liking.”

Her mouth dropped open, and her temper exploded. She never really thought about what she was doing; her body simply refused to remain still. With a snarl, she sent her knee toward his unprotected groin. One moment he was chuckling at her, and the next, she felt her blow connecting. Pain flashed across his face as he whipped into action. She was free in a moment, but his hand rose into position to deliver a strike to her jaw.

“I’m looking into yer eyes sure enough, Gahan Sutherland…”

She realized she’d never really seen his emotions, because his face became a mask of fury now, yet it was mixed with self-loathing. He lowered his fist and sucked in a deep breath.

“I would nae have hit ye. Me hand went up out of reflex. Ye have to expect that when ye deliver such a low blow to a man.”

She believed him, which was foolish, because men didn’t suffer the sort of thing she’d done to him well. Especially one of noble blood like him. He might have her lashed, but even that knowledge didn’t keep her silent.

“Ye should expect such a reaction when ye pin innocents in dark hallways and try to blame them for yer own suspicious nature.”

His face tightened. “Yer sister almost killed me father. That is nae suspicion. It is proven.”

“Which is why ye should leave. Bari is nae content—”

She was saying too much, letting her thoughts spill past her lips without considering the consequences. She needed to prevent bloodshed, not give Gahan Sutherland solid reason to go looking for Bari’s blood. Even if she knew Bari deserved it.

“Is nae…what?”

Gahan’s voice was soft, but there was a flame flickering in his dark eyes that terrified her. She hadn’t been afraid of him until that moment, because she was certain she was looking at the rage churning inside him over almost losing his father. She felt his pain but was powerless to soothe it.

“I cannae help ye, no more than I can stop me own wedding.”

She was saying too much again, her deepest feelings pouring out because she was so frightened. “Ye should just…go.” Tears burned her eyes, and her voice was thick with them. “That’s all I can do for ye.”

Moira grabbed her skirts and ran. She heard him give chase behind her, but she made it to the arched doorway and inside the Great Hall before he caught her. Matheson retainers looked up, catching her in their sights. Gahan jerked back at the last moment, but she felt his dark stare on her.

She was trembling, her entire body shaking like it was bone-chilling cold.

Yet she was hot, and her cheeks burned with a blush.

“Moira, come here.” Bari was sitting at the high table, his expression stormy. She forced herself to walk down the aisle, fighting against the urge to run.

Where would she go? There was no sanctuary for her, and Gahan no doubt still lingered in the darkness. Bari tapped the top of the table impatiently. Moira squared her shoulders and moved toward the high table. Better to face what she must and be done with worrying about it.

“Ye’ll nae wed until tomorrow.” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward to get a closer look at her, his gaze lingering on her bright cheeks. “I expect ye more composed by then.”

Bari snapped his fingers at one of the maids. She hesitated before moving toward Moira.

“Come, miss.” She bit her lip. “Mistress.”

The girl sounded as unsure as Moira felt. At least there was someone she might feel something in common with.

Yet it was a beginning to her new future, and that pleased her. Moira followed the girl from the hall with a sense of renewed hope.

***

“The lass is quick,” Cam observed.

“I would nae have struck her,” Gahan said gruffly.

His half brother didn’t respond, but Gahan saw the reprimand in his expression. That was something his father had taught him to take notice of. Just because he was in command, it didn’t mean the men following his orders agreed with him. Scotland had a young king because his father had been too arrogant to notice that those around him were growing resentful of his personal excesses.

“I deserved it,” he admitted.

“Aye, ye did at that. Ye won’t be getting any argument from me.” Cam spoke softly to keep their words between them. “Are ye going to take her advice?”

“And leave?” Gahan shook his head. “Maybe Bari will make enough of a mistake and give me the opportunity to break his neck right here.”

“That would save a bit of trouble for the rest of us. But I think the earl is going to be displeased about ye looking to start a fight under a vassal laird’s roof.”

“Publicly, he will be.” Gahan flashed his sibling a grin. “But I am a bastard, after all.”

He was planning on using the stain of his birth to right the wrong Bari Fraser had done to his family. Some might accuse him of dishonorable conduct, but as far as he was concerned, poison was even lower.

And Moira Fraser knew the truth of the matter. She’d almost spilled the facts. His suspicions were confirmed. Bari had known full well what his sister was planning to do to Lytge, and it seemed that Moira knew too.

For some reason, that knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t have time to wonder why. She was kin to Sandra and Bari. No doubt she’d learned to use her blue eyes to beguile men the same way Sandra had. Her impending marriage was a fine example of using the union of matrimony for gain. He shouldn’t be surprised or even overly interested in the matter.

But the bitterness remained.

***

“The laird’s last wife used this chamber.”

The maid froze two steps into the room when she looked at the bed. A bundle of rosemary, withered and brown, still decorated the headboard. Someone had brought it to Matheson’s last wife in the hope it would cleanse the chamber and help her have a safe delivery. The dry leaves had fallen onto the pillow now, a blunt reminder of how dangerous childbirth was. No one had cleared it away, because no one wanted bad luck plaguing them.

“We should try another place.”

The girl made the sign of the cross over herself as she hurried from the room. Moira lingered, looking around the chamber for clues as to what her new life would be like. It was a modest room, the furniture sturdy but not lavish. A thick comforter was kicked to the foot of the bed, and there was a fireplace. A half-burned candle sat on the bedside table, and a long table had been pushed near the bed. Several pitchers and a large urn were abandoned there along with a stack of towels intended for the birth. Dust had settled over all of it.

“Come away, there are bad humors here. We should get a sin-eater to sleep here before anyone else enters the chamber and gets shackled with bad luck.”

“Why hasn’t the head of house already hired one?” Moira asked.

“We have no head of house,” she explained. “The laird will expect ye to manage the duties. The cook runs the kitchens well enough. Ye’ll be deciding who has a place.”

Because she would be the laird’s wife. It was slightly appealing until she recalled the way Gahan Sutherland had looked at her. Like a high-priced whore. She preferred to focus on the good her union might do for ensuring peace. But she’d have to try her hand at making Achaius think she liked his touch.

A shudder shook her, and she hurried after the maid.

The maid was leading her down a narrow passageway. The stones were older here, many of them pitted. There was only a single tin lantern to provide light. She pushed open a door and held it for Moira. The chamber was as dark as a cave. A little light spilled in from the hallway. Once Moira stepped over the threshold, the girl reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a flint stone. She struck it with a piece of iron until sparks flew onto the pile of tinder left on a small pewter plate. It flared up, and she held a candle over it until it lit. The golden glow spread out around the maid, and she carried it to another candle sitting on the far side of the chamber.

The maid returned the candle to the holder sitting by the plate. The tinder had burned away, leaving only a thin taper of smoke that lingered in the stale air. She walked to the window and opened the shutters. A cloud of dust billowed up as she pushed out the wide shutters. She wrinkled her nose, but then she turned and offered Moira a smile.

Moira smiled back. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“I am Fann, milady,” the maid said and lowered herself. There was a hopeful note in the girl’s voice. She opened the doors of a wardrobe from which she pulled out a folded bundle of bedding and set to making the bed. Moira went to the other side of the bed to help her straighten the sheets. The work went much faster with two of them. A look of relief crossed Fann’s face; no doubt the girl had worried her laird’s new wife might be expecting pampering.

“The sheets are clean. A bit of time and the night breeze will freshen the air in here.”

She moved to a chair that had a piece of Matheson plaid covering it. When she lifted it, the candlelight sparkled off the dust. The chair was a sturdy one, built in an X fashion. Fann picked up the seat cushion and beat it against her hip a few times.

“Do ye wish to take supper below?” She nibbled on her lower lip. “The laird is rather set in his thinking. He’ll insist ye sit at the lower table, because of yer common blood, until ye wed.”

The girl was flustered but obviously eager to help her new mistress adjust. The way she chattered so freely spoke of a household where the line between mistress and staff was very thin. In fact, the only difference might be that she had the church’s blessing to share Achaius’s bed. The Matheson laird clearly felt he was ruler and to be obeyed instantly. She doubted any maid who caught his eye might tell him no.

“I’m weary. Would ye be kind enough to fetch me something?”

The girl lowered herself again and smiled. “Ye may rely on me and me two sisters. They are younger, but our mother has taught us well.”

Fann hurried out of the chamber, likely intent on finding her siblings to help her bring up the supper tray. Moira understood the nervousness eating at the girl. Everyone needed to make sure they had a place. It might be spring, but there would be no new crops for several months yet. Even then, no one was provided for without giving something in return.

Moira would be striving to please Achaius for her keep.

With a sigh, she sat down in the chair but shot back up when she realized how sore her bottom was. She wasn’t accustomed to riding a horse for so many hours in a row. Her cheeks colored as she remembered that she’d be expected to welcome her new husband into her embrace by the next nightfall.

Or sooner. Her cheeks reddened as she recalled the greeting her husband-to-be had given her. It was possible he’d happily claim his rights the moment the Church blessed them. She certainly wouldn’t be the first bride deflowered in the light of day.

Or the first one accused of seeking a lover when she got a good look at her groom.

That fact didn’t make her any less accepting of the accusation Gahan Sutherland had made. Achaius would likely be furious if he discovered she’d lashed out at his overlord’s son, even if the man had deserved it.

Oh, he had. She smiled with satisfaction. Moira doubted she could find any remorse for her actions, even if she ended up locked in the stocks for daring to forget her place. Gahan might be bastard-born, but he was still a blue blood. The man was also a Highlander.

Bari liked to call himself one, but the truth of the matter had been there in the hardness of Gahan’s body. Every retainer following the son of the Earl of Sutherland was lean and bulky with muscle. Sutherland was far north. Most likely, it was still covered in snow. Only the strong survived there. Like Gahan.

She shook her head. She was letting her mind wander into dangerous places. She’d learned long ago not to ponder how much better others’ lives were. Such mental exercises were only going to take her to one place, and that was resentment. There was much to enjoy in her days, and it was best to remember that fact.

Achaius’s face rose from her memory. His eyes had sparkled with glee as she blushed. His laughter echoed in her ears, destroying her attempts to find something positive about her plight. But she had to. Alba needed her to please the old laird.

Though it was clear he would not be making any effort to consider her desires.

***

The bells from the church woke her.

Moira jumped awake because it sounded as if she was sleeping in the bell tower. She pushed the coverlet off her legs and ran to the window. The floor was chilled from the night air, and it stung the bottoms of her bare feet.

The church was inside the curtain wall, the bells eye level with her window. She certainly wouldn’t be sleeping past morning Mass.

“Morning, miss.” Fann hurried into the room and retrieved Moira’s undergown. “This is me sister, Aife.”

The second girl picked up Moira’s overgown and stood behind her sibling as Fann helped her into her undergown. Once it was in place, Aife held up her overgown. Both were simple garments, no finer than what Aife or Fann wore.

“After Mass, we’ll have to see what can be found for ye to wear for yer wedding. There will be nice things in the last mistress’s chamber. Her family sent her with velvet.”

The last bits of slumber evaporated as Moira recalled exactly what the day would hold. She’d spent long hours trying to fall asleep, and now she was paying for it. Her head hurt with fatigue already, and the sun was barely risen. Fann pulled a brush through her hair, and Aife offered her the linen cap.

“Come…come,” Fann urged her.

The bells had stopped ringing, and the sound of song drifted up from the church. It wouldn’t do well for her to be late to Mass. Plenty of lairds were forgiven of the same sin, but it was a wife’s duty to be there even if her husband wasn’t.

In fact, there were a great number of sins Achaius might be allowed that she was forbidden.

Moira followed Fann through what seemed identical tunnels running inside the old keep. She stumbled as she tried to make sense of which direction they were going, but there appeared to be no markings of any sort.

Fann knew the way, though, and soon they were hurrying from the tower to the steps of the church. Others were also doing their best not to be late. There was no time for greetings or even to notice who was next to her. By the time she was in line with the rest of the female members of the congregation, the priest was beginning the Mass.

But there were plenty of people trying to get a look at her. It was by far the most attention she’d ever attracted, and it was more than unsettling. Her confidence tried to desert her, but the memory of the look on Alba’s face kept her standing steady. There was no way she would achieve her goals if she crumpled. Being peeked at would certainly not be the worst of what the day would hold.

She wished she was marrying Gahan Sutherland and would be welcoming him into her bed later. Heat scorched her cheeks at the thought. She had no right to even think such a thing, much less during Mass. But the thought was there, inside her head, too bold to brush aside.

How would she even go about such a thing? A man like Gahan would no doubt have experience with women trying their hand at snaring his attention. He might even have a wife now, or be contracted for one. Without realizing it, she scanned the opposite side of the church. It wasn’t hard to find the Sutherlands. Their plaid was darker in hue, because they used more dye, an expense they didn’t seem to mind. But they were also larger.

Ye noticed that before, which is another thing ye should nae have done…

For just a moment, she allowed her gaze to rest on Gahan. He was several rows closer to the altar, so it wouldn’t matter. Just a fleeting indulgence before she had to devote herself to duty.

***

The hall was bustling with people. The scent of hot porridge drew them once their souls had been cleansed for the day. The tables filled as maids delivered pitchers of fresh milk. On the high table there was also cream and dried fruit, but Moira sat at a lower table. She cupped her bowl to warm her hands and studied the contents of her morning meal.

Simple oats and barley, but it was hot, and that pleased her the most. After a long winter, it was easy to long for richer food, but the rules of Lent were strict. The high table certainly didn’t suffer from a lack of tempting items to make the morning fare more palatable. It was a delicate balance between Church and laird. No laird wanted the Church outraged with him, but no priest wanted the laird irate with him. Still, Achaius poured a generous amount of cream into his bowl, then reached for the dried fruit.

“At least yer sister knows her place.”

The hall quieted as Laird Matheson spoke. Moira looked up to find him staring at her. Bari was seated beside him at the high table. Gahan was there as well, but he’d sat at the end of the table, more than an arm’s reach from the other two men. His mistrust of them was clear, and he didn’t seem to care who knew it.

“She is honored by yer offer to wed her,” Bari said.

Achaius laughed. He pounded the table and coughed several times. “Ye are a liar, Bari Fraser.”

Moira slapped her hand over her mouth to keep her amusement from showing. Bari turned red.

“I am nae!”

Achaius was unimpressed with Bari’s sputtering. The Matheson laird reached for his mug and took a long swig from it, then wiped his mouth across his sleeve.

“Then ye are a blind man. The lass is horrified, even if she has voiced no complaint. As I noted, she knows her place. A fine trait in a wife.”

Moira fought the urge to look away from the high table. It felt like everyone was staring at her, and the hall had fallen as silent as the sanctuary during Mass. But she had to look him in the eye or fail completely. There would be no peace if he believed her discontent.

“She’ll do her duty,” Bari said.

“Aye, I believe ye on that account.” Achaius put a spoonful of porridge into his mouth and swallowed. “Otherwise, I think she would have been much more welcoming to the good earl’s son last night when he followed her down the hallway and tried to suggest she run away with him.”

Her jaw dropped open, and the hall was stunned into silence for a moment that felt like an hour.

“Ye son of a whore!” Bari shouted. He was out of his chair in a flash, but he froze because Gahan had also risen, his expression deadly as he faced off with Bari.

“Keep the sharp side of yer tongue off me mother,” Gahan warned softly. His tone was far more ominous than Bari’s shouting. “Or I’ll show ye what happens to men who insult me family.”

“Ye seem to nae understand where yer hands do nae belong,” Bari growled. “Ye need to leave.”

“Sit down, ye whelp. This is my land and my tower. Ye do nae throw anyone out, especially me overlord’s son. I know me place.” Achaius’s retainers instantly stepped to attention behind their laird. Bari returned to his chair.

“Yer sister did a fair job of dealing with the situation, and I found it interesting.”

Achaius surprised both men. They watched him consume another spoonful of his breakfast, and then a second before Bari lost control.

“What do ye mean by that?”

Achaius turned his head and stared at him. A moment later he pounded his fist on the table, shaking everything on it.

“Are ye me king? Me priest? There are few men I’ll stomach that tone from.”

“I am yer fellow laird,” Bari insisted.

“Blah!” Achaius pointed his spoon at Bari. “I should demand more dowry for that piss-poor reasoning. She’s nae that pretty, and a virgin as well.”

“Of course she’s a virgin.”

“Well now, lad, once ye’ve had as many maidens as I have, it tends to lose its appeal in favor of a woman who knows how to please. Half me retainers think she’ll cry tonight. I’m looking for a warm welcome in me bed.”

Achaius went back to eating, and Bari did too.

Speaking as he was, up at the high table, it was almost possible to believe they weren’t discussing her. She had as much meaning to them as a mare. The unease that had kept her awake left her with a knot in her belly. It was as if she were disconnected from the moment; not really a part of it, and that made it possible to simply dismiss it as insignificant.

She would not cry. There were plenty of things she could not control, but she would master her emotions. Besides, she would not be wasting any tears on a situation in which she had so little worth. Her groom and her brother seemed content to discuss her wedding without her. Well, she’d offer them the same callous disregard. Their plans mattered little to her, and she would repeat that idea over and over until she believed it. Tears were for things she cared about.

She realized that Gahan Sutherland was watching her. His dark eyes were aimed directly at her as he ignored the conversation. Heat stung her cheeks, and she looked away because she realized she was blushing—again.

***

Achaius sat in his private solar and belched. His captain waited for him to settle back into his chair before tugging on the corner of his bonnet.

“Do ye want me to assign an escort to yer bride?”

Achaius shook his head. “And I want ye to forget that ye asked me. Tell the lads outside the door that I’m sleeping.”

His captain’s eyes narrowed. “Gahan Sutherland is determined to corner her again, I’d bet good silver on it. She was watching him during Mass, those pretty blue eyes sparkling. He had his eye on her while ye ate, sure enough. There are nae many things that will pull a man’s attention away from such a publicly issued insult as letting his mother be called a whore in the Great Hall. A woman he wants a taste of is one. Otherwise, I wager he’d be out of the gates by now.”

“He’s staying because of her and no mistake. Ye can see it in his eyes.” Achaius nodded. “But do nae worry. That bastard is going to help me gain every last bit of Fraser land. It’s a stroke of luck having him beguiled by me bride.”

He laughed, and his captain grinned.

“Ye see it, do ye nae?” Achaius began to let his eyes shut. “Gahan Sutherland wants Bari’s blood, and if I am wed to Moira, I’ll have the best claim to the Fraser land once Bari is dead. There is nae a cousin or a bastard with a close claim. The earl will have to bestow the Fraser lairdship upon the legitimate issue of me union. I need Gahan to have a reason to kill Bari. A valid one would be even better.”

“What if the lass does nae conceive?”

Achaius opened his eyes and waved a hand in the air to dismiss the worry on his captain’s face. “I’ll lock her in a tower and tell one and all that a midwife told me she’s carrying and needs to conserve her strength. Then I’ll buy some whore’s brat to seal the deal. It can die in a few years, leaving the land in Matheson hands. Or live if I need it, but it will be raised to serve me.”

The only way it would have been better was if the land were connected to his own, but he wasn’t going to be picky. It was a stroke of luck, one he planned to enjoy. His breakfast helped him slip off into an early morning nap as his captain left. He needed the rest because he was going to enjoy doing his best to make sure everyone believed he still had the vigor to deflower his young bride.

For a moment, Achaius opened his eyes. His kilt lay smooth and even over his lower body. His member was still soft in spite of the juicy offering Bari Fraser had delivered to him. For a moment he was bitter, resenting what age had stolen from him. The thought of tossing Moira’s skirts should have stiffened his cock and filled him with anticipation. Instead, he was left contemplating how to make sure the sheet was stained come sunrise.

Sutherland’s bastard son had no problem getting stiff at the sight of young Moira.

Achaius forced his resentment aside. Gahan’s interest in Moira might have more than one purpose as well. Not only was the man provoking Bari Fraser into a rage, he would certainly take the secret of any bastard he bred with Moira to the grave. That made him perfect for the chore of ensuring his bride conceived.

If nature wasn’t going to let him enjoy his newest bride, at least age hadn’t stolen his wits to keep him from being able to make sure he gained the most from his newest venture. Life was about profit. Everything else was drivel for women and servants of the Church.