Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance (10 page)

Turning his eye then to the father, Daniel studied the man he’d met twelve years before. The laird looked much older than he remembered. And seeing the weary way in which he now moved, Daniel wondered once again at the reason for the hastily arranged visit. For the journey to this holding was a long one, and not easily traveled.

As he made his way over to the stable to greet his weary guests, Daniel’s eyes were inexorably drawn once again to the daughter. There was something in the lass’s manner that he found alluring. She was of medium height and slight of build, but clearly a woman full grown.

The fur-lined hood of her rose-colored cloak slipped down as she dismounted and she pushed it back further, revealing a long, thick mass of unbound hair. ‘Twas darker than he remembered, and much more stunning. Where it had been a light cinnamon in her childhood, now it had deepened to an appealing shade of dark bronze. Was it as soft as it looked? A sudden impulse to run his fingers through the thick curls made them twitch.

*

Maryn turned when she heard someone approaching from behind and her gaze instantly snagged on a virile, auburn-haired warrior. Lord, the man was so tall! And wide! And he had the biggest hands she’d ever seen. But the green eyes…aye, those eyes she remembered well. This would be Laird MacLaurin, then.

She’d heard a tale of his savage revenge on his own father and of how he’d become one of the strongest and meanest fighting men in the Highlands. She’d hoped that story was a magnified report, but now, with this first sight of him, she knew it must be true. Her heart tripped in her chest. Would she be binding herself to a massive brute with no tendencies toward gentleness or compassion?

*

Daniel stood transfixed. Where was the filth sprite of all those years past? Gone. And in her place, a goddess. God’s truth, she was lovely—far fairer than he would ever have imagined her to grow to be.

“Good morrow, lad,” Laird Donald said jovially.

Giving himself a mental shake, Daniel turned to his guest and clapped him on the back. “‘Tis good seeing you again after so many years. I hope your journey was a safe one.” Unable to deny the pull of her essence, his eyes settled once more on the beauty standing before him. “I’ve had bedchambers prepared for the both of you and there is a light repast awaiting your arrival in the great hall.” Buoyed on a wave of excitement, he took her hand. ‘Twas small, dainty, with skin as soft as down. Her eyes, the color of new-combed honey, softened when he said, “‘Tis been too many years since last we met.” His lips crooked into a smile as he teased, “I pray you are not so inclined to fell me with your slingshot?”

A look of confusion flitted across her countenance followed swiftly by a fiery blush. Clearly, she had little memory of their previous meeting. His smile broadened even as his heartbeat quickened.

“Nay, laird, ‘tis my wish that we be friends, not foes,” she said. Her voice pulsed through him. Like soft, knowing fingers strumming tight, hot skin, it sent blood rushing to his groin. Not until her cheeks pinkened and she looked away did he realize he’d been staring at her.

He coughed into his fist. “Well, yes…That pleases me, as I wish much the same.” He tipped his head in the direction of the keep. “May I escort you to the great hall?”

Laird Donald shook his head, answering for his daughter. “The lass needs to take care of her mare. Let us go inside and Maryn will meet us there when she has completed her tasks.”

Daniel reluctantly released her hand. “Until later, then,” he said softly. Turning, he walked with Laird Donald toward the entrance to his home.

“Your daughter has grown into a lovely woman,” Daniel commented after a moment. “‘Tis surprised I am that she is not yet wed—is she?”

“Nay, she is not. Tho’ there is a very good chance that a fortunate alliance will take place quite soon.”

Daniel’s spirits plummeted. “Ah, I see.”
You have no right to have feelings on the matter
, he reminded himself.

*

Maryn watched her father and Laird MacLaurin walk away. She wanted to give her father time to speak with the laird in private, so she slowed her pace as she led her mount into the stall.

After taking the saddle and bridle off of Fia, her mare, she began rubbing the horse down and combing her mane. She wished now that she’d tied her own hair in a braid; the thick mass was getting in her way as she took care of the animal.

Fia nickered and nosed Maryn’s hand looking for a treat.

“No, my fine lass, I have naught for you yet. But later I shall hunt out some fine thing for you, I swear.”

As Maryn rested her cheek on the chestnut’s muscular neck and stroked her hand along the white blaze running down the middle of the animal’s soft face, her jagged thoughts quieted. Softly, she began to croon an old lullaby her papa had sung to her as a wee lass. Fia affectionately leaned into her shoulder, showing Maryn that she enjoyed the soothing sound of Maryn’s contralto voice.

‘Twas on Maryn’s twelfth birthday that she received the horse, and they quickly became the best of friends. Smiling, she recalled with a pang all the “best friends” she’d had as a wee lass—owed, she was sure, to her rather unconventional, somewhat lonely childhood. For she’d had no mother to raise her, and her father had indulged her mischief-making at every turn. In addition to which, her clan had had no other bairns among them for the first seven years of her life. All these things had set the stage for a childhood full of creative relationships. But Fia was by far her favorite. Possibly because she was the last friendship made during her childhood, but also because the finicky equine had taken to her immediately, allowing only Maryn to ride her. It had created a strong bond of loyalty between the two, for which Maryn felt truly blessed. She took care of Fia, but Fia also took care of her. The mare listened to her stories, her hopes, and most of all, her worries.

“Oh, Fia, what will be the outcome of this day? ‘Tis sorry I am that your fate is so tangled with mine, but I could not bear to leave you behind. I need you, friend. But I make to you this vow: If I wed this Laird MacLaurin, and he makes life a misery for me, I shall release you back to my father’s care.”

Fia nodded her head and whinnied.

Maryn gave her a sad smile. The mare could not possibly have kenned her, but the seeming show of support was a balm to her tormented conscience, all the same.

Suppressing a yawn, Maryn busied herself making sure Fia had food and water available to her, then with one last hug and a deep intake of breath, she left the stable.

*

Daniel led Laird Donald into the keep and over to the long table taking up a large portion of one end of the great hall. After Laird Donald was seated, Daniel took the seat next to him. The man had been so robust and full of life the last time they’d met. But now he seemed tense and, understandably, fatigued.

Once a trencher of food and a tankard of ale was placed before the laird, Daniel said, “I received a missive a sennight past to expect your arrival. What business brings you to me?”

Laird Donald wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at Daniel. “I come to negotiate a contract with you. But first you should hear the reasons such a contract is desired.” He cleared his throat. “A fortnight past my daughter inadvertently started a clan war between the Donalds and the Macleans.”

Daniel straightened on his bench. “Pardon—did you say she started a
clan war
?”

“Aye. She stole the Maclean’s horses.”

“Christ’s Bones! Wh—”

Laird Donald held up his hand.

Daniel nodded, settling back on his bench.

“My daughter has always had a tender heart and was appalled at the Maclean’s disregard of their horseflesh. Many of the beasts had not been re-shoed in ages and their coats were left dull and dirty.”

“That makes no sense. My grandparents would never allow that to happen.”

“Aye, but ever since your grandfather passed and the new laird, Callum MacGregor—your cousin—took his place, there has been much chaos in the clan and the holding has fallen into disrepair.”

“How ever did she manage such a feat?”

“With the help of her maid, Beatrice, they managed to raid the Maclean stables one night and steal away with many of their best mounts.” Laird Donald gave a great sigh. “As you can no doubt guess, the Macleans were livid when they discovered the thievery. Their marshal had been tied and gagged and left rolled on his side in the corner.”

“But how could they have made it past the gatekeeper?”

“Maryn had made a gift of a drugged wine to the man earlier in the evening, knowing he would partake of the concoction once night truly fell.” With a shrug, Laird Donald explained, “As I said, the keep is not as it was during your grandfather’s time. The man fell into a deep slumber and ‘twas a simple matter to get the horses out of the fortress after that.”

Daniel was having a hard time picturing the dainty lass he’d just seen by the stables raiding and stealing horses. Although, when he recalled the imp she had been as a bairn, he fully believed the tale. “So the marshal recognized your daughter?”

With yet another sigh, Laird Donald shook his head, and said, “Nay. The man thought the horses were stolen by lads, but had no idea from which clan they had come since they had worn naught that would identify their loyalties.” Lifting the ale to his lips, he took a long draught before continuing, “Callum showed up at our holding that eve. He had tracked the horses to a cave on our property and accused my clan of being behind the raid. I, of course, denied that there was even a slight bit of truth in that accusation.”

“How did you find out that ‘twas your daughter who did the deed, then?”

“She confessed. She was with me in the great hall when Callum arrived. Once she heard the charges he was making, she admitted that she was solely responsible for the offense.”

“‘Twas wrong of her to steal the horses, there’s no denying that,” Daniel said bemusedly. “But declaring war over the deed seems a bit rash, knowing the history of friendship between your two clans. And especially so, when ‘twas discovered that a soft-hearted lass was the one behind the theft.”

“‘Tis my belief that Callum MacGregor had another motive in mind from the beginning. I think he intended to use the threat of clan war as a way to force me to allow a marriage between himself and Maryn. He insisted that the only way he would refrain from declaring war on Clan Donald was for Maryn to become his wife.”

Daniel shot to his feet and strode over to the hearth. As he stared into the flames, he fought the ridiculous desire to protect the lass from his cousin’s blackmail scheme.

“Callum has always fancied my daughter,” Laird Donald continued. “In fact, they’ve been friends since they were both bairns. But he is too spoiled and unseasoned in my estimation and I have never encouraged an attachment—tho’ he has certainly desired one.”

*

The sun was high in the sky now as Maryn ambled across the courtyard. Her muscles ached from the long journey and lack of rest. Again, a yawn assailed her, but this time she indulged the need. As she did so, she stopped a moment and looked through the arched entryway in the stone wall leading to the training field in the upper bailey. The clamor and intensity of the MacLaurin warriors as they practiced their drills made it clear that they took their training seriously.

Not that the Donald warriors were any different, she supposed. But there were just so
many
MacLaurin warriors. More warriors than she’d seen in all her days. And they were an awesome sight.

Sighing, she supposed she’d delayed as long as she dared and turned toward the entry of the keep. Apprehension overcame her as she thought of the agreement she had sworn to her father and her clan to fulfill. Though she was not proud of the fact, she found Laird MacLaurin rather daunting. He was just so
big
and his good looks did not ease her feelings of apprehension, either. Everything about him was massive. His wealth, his strength, his size, his comeliness. Why would he settle for a puny lass with little wealth, country ways, and one prone to oddness? She thought of all the young swains who’d scuttled off, evidently in disgust, mere hours after meeting her these past two years. Why should she believe this comely warrior-laird would be any different? Even if he did agree to this bargain in order to help his Maclean clan, he’d surely regret the deed soon enough. And that possibility had now become her deepest fear.

Tho’, she mused, she had truly not thought of how it would affect Laird MacLaurin when she’d first agreed to this bargain. She’d only been thinking of how she could make amends for her rash behavior in the most peaceable way possible. Her only concern at the time had been that no blood be spilled due to her misdeed.

Upon seeing this wealthy holding, however, and meeting the handsome laird, she realized the sacrifice he would be making as well. ‘Twas clear that he could have any lady in the Highlands. A lady of beauty and refinement—and one better suited to running an estate such as this.

She ran her fingers over her plain woolen gown peeking from the opened front of her cloak and heaved another heavy sigh. ‘Twas as if she were an unpolished churl who’d been invited to dine in the king’s palace.

Knowing she could dally no longer, Maryn climbed the steps leading to the entry of the keep and opened the heavy wooden door.

Upon entering the great hall, she came to a standstill. Her father looked quite pleased with himself, she noticed, as he watched Laird MacLaurin pace. She cleared her throat and the two men looked toward her.