Highland Hellcat (2010) (8 page)

To think that her skin was so sensitive…

She understood now why those promised to the church were dressed in undyed wool from birth. It kept them from discovering how good another human felt while clasped in their arms, because everyone kept away from her when they saw her wearing the garments of a nun. Her plain wool skirts were bunched up around her legs now, the knee-high boots that she wore protecting her lower legs from the night chill. They were sturdy boots—a gift from her father because he knew that they would most likely be the last new pair she ever wore. In many abbeys, the newest girls went barefoot to prove their dedication to serve no matter how humble the conditions they would have to endure. Even though she would eventually become a mother superior, she would begin as a novice, just as every other girl did.

As Connor’s wife, she wouldn’t have to suffer those hardships. There would be those who would consider her fortunate, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she would have to dishonor her father to embrace being wed to Connor Lindsey. Her word was the only thing that she truly owned. Men so often thought their honor was more important than a woman’s.

Of course, the church would tell her that her place was lower than a man’s. She knew that well enough.

She couldn’t wed him, not without her father’s blessing. But there seemed no way to prevent the man from taking her where he would. Even with the night being so black, he guided his horse with an experienced hand. Neither the men following them nor their horses hesitated. They continued on, the clip from the animals’ hooves the only sound they made. She thought of screaming, but the rope binding her wrists was a rather blunt reminder of the fact that Connor was stealing her, and she doubted that he’d hesitate about gagging her too.

The plaid lying across his back kept her nose from becoming chilled when she turned her face into it, but the rest of her body was drawing warmth from his flesh too. He was far warmer than she might have thought a man would be, and her female body clung to his as the horse continued to cover ground. She shivered, the new emotions shaking her down to the foundations of her beliefs.

Every year that she had grown and taken instruction on what was right or wrong was being challenged. Her pride ached because she did not seem to have enough discipline to ignore what she liked about Connor Lindsey. Deep inside her mind, dark whispers were stirring like snakes, slithering and winding through the lessons she had been given on keeping her body pure because it belonged to Christ.

“Release me, Connor. This will bring trouble to both our houses.”

She knew that he heard her, she felt his muscles tighten beneath her cheek and hands, but he never pulled the stallion up, not even to slow its progress. The night still surrounded them, growing colder almost as if evil were rising from the ground in celebration of what he was doing. Her eyes strained to see, but the night was darkening even more. The first snow of the season began to drift down onto her unprotected back. The snow did not melt, and it was a full month early. It was falling too quickly too, covering their tracks in a foot of fluffy ice that would give her father no way to know where they had gone.

Despair finally won the battle to wrap around her. It smothered her confidence, leaving her without hope.

Dawn was gray and miserable. They stopped to rest the horses, and Brina pulled her frozen fingers to her mouth to blow her breath on them. Her fingers pained her because she had not been able to turn her hands about to protect them from the frigid air.

Her heavy wool cloak was soaking wet down the length of her back, where the snow had melted against her body heat. But at least the wool continued to keep her warm. She stomped her feet to regain feeling in them, while the men began to rub the legs and ankles of their mounts. They untied the small fabric bags of feed that had been secured to the backs of the younger lads who weren’t carrying full swords yet. Connor had stopped them near water, and the men waited to feed the horses until the beasts had dipped their noses into the stream for a long drink. After that the men tied the sacks around the horses’ heads and left them to eat while they might.

“I didna think of yer hands, lass.”

Connor captured one before she realized he had finished tending to his stallion. He pulled a small dirk from the inside of his doublet sleeve, surprising her. Highlanders did like their weapons, but not every man had his clothing sewn to accommodate more weapons. That spoke of a harsh life, one where Connor needed to watch his back and be prepared for treachery.

He sliced the rope in the center so that her hands might separate; her arms were stiff from being in the same position so long. A tiny moan of relief escaped her, but she stepped away from him when he reached for the loop of rope still knotted about her wrists. His lips pressed into a hard line in response.

“I can see to my own comfort.”

Brina took over the task of soothing her skin where the bindings had bruised her, while she lifted her chin in defiance of his attempts to do it. He frowned, his eyes narrowing.

“Go on and see to yer needs, and do nae make me chase ye down, Brina, for I swear that I will no’ be in a kind mood if ye put me to that trouble in this chill. I hope ye know now that I will do whatever I must to take ye with us.”

“Ye should notice that God is no’ pleased with what ye have done.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “Ye think this chill is heavenly wrath, lass?”

She tossed her head and worked on one of the knots at her wrist, but he had tied it tight, and her fingertips ached as she tried to dig at the rough rope.

“It would not be the first time God sent punishment to those who displeased him. It is too early for snow.”

“There have been other years when the snow fell early.” He tilted his head to the side, and his lips twitched. “Maybe God is making sure we have a good reason to stay beneath the covers of a warm bed.”

Her eyes widened, and so did his grin.

“But I can see that I will have to take better care of ye. I would nae want yer fingers to be too sore.”

Connor reached for her wrist once more. Brina jerked against his hold, but his fingers remained solidly in place. All she managed was to make her own shoulder ache.

“It is only my hand against yers, Brina. Stop acting so skittish over so simple a touch.”

She felt her jaw drop open with stunned shock, but she pressed her lips together as her temper flared. “You are quite the fiend, sir. I have never allowed even simple touches, for to do so would have been misplaced when my future was to serve the church. I do not know how it is on yer land, but my ankles were switched for forgetting that my body was for God’s service and no other’s touch. Yer frustration with my reactions is yet another reason why ye should abandon this insanity. I was raised to be a bride of Christ; I know nothing else.”

Her words shocked him, or maybe it was her tone that made him frown at her so furiously. She felt her throat constrict, because she was daring quite a bit to raise her voice in reprimand to a laird while others might hear, even if he had stolen her.

The fact that she was correct wouldn’t change the reality that he would set the conditions of her life where they were going. It was foolish to anger him, for she would be the only one who suffered if she offended him.

“I admit that I didna think of that and that ye are correct; girls bound for the church are nae allowed to flirt on Lindsey land either.” His expression softened, as did the grip on her wrist, his thumb beginning to rub gently along the delicate skin. “I believe that I am going to enjoy courting ye, Brina.”

“This is nae courtship; it is—”

“It is done.”

The fingers holding her wrist tightened, so that her arm was held immobile. She felt the cool kiss of the dirk’s blade against her skin as he slid it carefully beneath the rope and jerked it quickly through the rough binding. The severed loop of rope fell away. He released her wrist and reached for her other one.

Knowing that he was reaching for her hand sent a tingle of anticipation along her arm. She realized it was absurd to jerk away from him when she couldn’t remove the rope herself, but she still flinched. The involuntary motion made her mad, only this time with herself. She should be able to master her own body.

Connor didn’t finish reaching for her wrist. He stopped in midair, waiting for her to stand steady.

Waiting for her to find her courage.

In spite of all the teaching in her childhood about meekness and humbleness that would be expected of her, Brina had never understood her lessons to mean that she should behave like a coward. It stung even to question whether she was doing so now.

She was still a Chattan after all. Born of Highlander stock, even if she was a female. Brina lifted her chin and held her arm steady.

“Go on, then, unless ye’d care to hand me that dirk so that I might do the task myself.”

Her words didn’t fool him, but she noticed a flare of something in his eyes that looked very much like respect.

“I believe it wise to keep ye unarmed for the moment; ye did enough damage with that rock.” He cupped her wrist, gently this time, and held her limb with only a fraction of the pressure he’d applied before. The moment felt longer than normal, as though she were poised inside of it, lingering there between breaths, while she noticed every tiny detail, such as how his attention focused on the task of sliding the knife between the rope and her skin. As soon as he had jerked through it, she drew a quick breath and pulled her hand free of his grasp.

His soft chuckle drew her lips into a frown.

“We make a better pair than ye know, Brina, for I was called bastard as a boy and spent many a night sleeping in the stable while my uncle was doing his best to ensure that I didna inherit the Lindsey title.”

“Why were ye called bastard?” Such was a harsh thing for a child to bear, and she discovered herself feeling remorse for the little boy who’d had to face that reality. It seemed cruel, because illegitimacy was the result of his parent’s sin, not his own.

“My father stole my mother, and she refused to wed him until her father agreed to give him her dowry.”

She gasped, her temper flaring up. “And ye would do the same to yer own sons?”

His lips rose into a confident smirk. “I admit that the idea of producing babes with ye is to my liking.”

Brina turned and grasped a handful of her skirts so that she might climb up the embankment to the privacy he’d mentioned might be hers. She could feel him watching her, but she kept her eyes on where she was going. The man was too pleasing to look upon by far, and the idea of yielding to his whim was too enticing when she considered how many years she had trained to ignore such things. His amusement stoked her temper, tempting her to try her nails out on him once more. That urge shamed her because of how intense it was. Turning her back on him was the only thing she could think to do, but she swore that she was going to be the embodiment of the hellcat he called her if the arrogant Highlander placed even one finger on her because she’d given him her back.

Nuns weren’t supposed to swear, but she meant it.

***

Connor watched Brina until she was behind a large outcropping of rocks. He listened to her steps and heard her stop. That was a relief, for he wasn’t in the mood to chase her.

No, he was feeling shamed by her words, no mistake about it.

“Are ye sure ye want to keep her?”

Shawe spoke softly, and Connor heard a measure of the same discomfort he was feeling in the man’s voice. He should have recalled that women raised to become brides of Christ were expected to shun all contact from men. Brina had more courage than he’d given her credit for, because the lightest contact between them must have been jarring for her to endure.

“Ye know my reasons, Shawe.” Connor turned to face his men because he was not a man who expected to be followed just because of who his father had been. He looked each of them straight in the eye before continuing to speak.

“We need the alliance with the Chattans. If I wed Deirdre, there will be talk from the Douglas that my children are nae Lindsey, but Melor’s bastards, even if I chained her to the tower-room wall for the next ten years.”

There were several nods of agreement.

“But I would nae care to do something like that to the lass. The Lindseys need a mistress who can run Birch Stone and do her part in making sure life is good for every member of the clan. I want no wife who needs guarding every day of her life.”

Now there were a few muttered “ayes” from his retainers.

“Robert Chattan promised me one of his daughters, and the middle one is betrothed to McLeod’s son, so I cannae be taking her without causing trouble with the McLeod. That leaves Brina, or we go home without an alliance with the Chattans and the McLeods when her sister weds.”

His men didn’t care for that idea. They’d been on the trail for close to a month now chasing down the rumors of Deirdre and her lover. The men in front of him wanted their wives and families, but they were willing to follow him in the cause of bringing home a wife for the laird who would bring good fortune to them all.

Some lairds took English or French wives because they came with silver and gold, but in the unstable country, a wife who was related to a strong clan was worth more than money. If he took a French girl to his bed, he might find his castle besieged for the gold she had come with. A dead man didn’t get the chance to enjoy his coin.

“What of the church?”

It was Kurtus who spoke up, displaying a frown of disapproval.

Connor tilted his head. “I say the church can have Deirdre, for she needs their strict guidance more than Brina. As the elder sister, her dowry will be greater, and that should appease the church. By keeping Brina, we shall have a Chattan lass who conducts herself with honor. If ye do nae agree, speak yer mind while we are within riding distance of the abbey, but I say, if we take Brina there, we shall have little to show for all our time on the road and a difficult future without an alliance while the clans around us make strong ones.”

That sealed his men’s opinions. Connor watched them weigh the idea of their neighbors making alliances while they failed to do so. That would mean a dark future for the Lindseys, and no mistake about it. His men nodded, none of them stepping forward to protest. That didn’t mean they were completely content with the matter of taking a bride of Christ away from the church, but there was one thing that a Highlander might agree upon, and that was a fair exchange. The Chattans would be the ones adjusting their thinking, since it was their woman who had upset the agreement.

It wasn’t perfect, not by far, but Connor was relieved to see his men turning to prepare to ride on without any further discussion. They would take Brina with them without any protest and do their duty in making sure their laird’s future wife remained with the clan.

Connor didn’t bother to worry about the fact that some lairds wouldn’t have allowed their men to protest their actions. He was the laird, and he would lead the Lindsey the only way he knew how, through fairness. He’d never order a man to do a task that he wouldn’t complete himself, and he’d never refuse to hear any of his men speak their mind if they thought it was best for the clan.

That was what drove him, the need to do the best for the clan. He’d spent a good part of his youth never expecting to marry at all because he was bastard born and worse yet, a bastard of the laird that had no legitimate sons. No family would want to risk their daughter wedding him because there might be fighting over who was to become laird and killing him would be a good way to end the argument. Any wife he had would die along with him. But fate had decreed that he would be laird. Now he’d wed, but for the gain it would bring his kin and the stability it would offer when his wife gave him a legitimate son to end all doubt about who was laird of the Lindsey.

The days of his being at the mercy of his greedy uncle were past.

That thought burned inside of him so brightly, it had kept him warm on nights that had killed other youths. In the corner of a stable, where his guardian had left him to survive by whatever means he might, he had held tight to his honor, because it was the only thing that was truly his.

The church wouldn’t like what he’d done, but he’d suffer their displeasure to prove to his clan that he was strong enough to place their welfare before his own. Just as his mother had held her head high and not wed because her own father was being so stubborn. It had cost her dearly, but in the end she had secured her dowry for the Lindseys, making sure that the clan grew stronger in spite of the shame being directed toward her. He would not fail to be just as determined. Building a better future for his children was more important than any hard feelings Robert Chattan might harbor toward him at the moment. He’d stand firmly in place, and the Chattan laird would relent after enough time had passed with Brina secured at Birch Stone.

***

She was tempted to run.

Brina looked toward the trees that grew halfway down the valley on the other side of the boulders behind which she had taken her privacy. They looked closer than they were, she knew that from her hunting lessons, but still she gazed at them and felt the longing to run grow stronger. The fresh blanket of snow also made her frown, for it would show her tracks clearly.