The Highlander's Bride Trouble (21 page)

“Perhaps ye might bring me some wool, for a dress?”

Gitta shook her head. “All the fleece was woven into tartan this season for the new
retainers.”

Of course. Protection of the castle folk came before new dresses.

“I have no authority to tell ye what to do, but it does seem a shame to have ye do
naught for the entire day,” Gitta exclaimed.

There was another knock on the door before Agnes entered with a small basket. She
was a younger girl with freckles sprinkled across her nose and onto her cheeks. She
smiled brightly and lowered herself.

“Agnes has asked to serve ye,” Gitta explained. “Her mother serves in the kitchens
and has taught her daughter well.”

Agnes was beaming as she moved to the table set for Nareen’s morning meal, and inspected
it. She straightened a dish, then moved to look at the bed.

“I do nae need service,” Nareen said to Gitta.

The head of house maintained her stern stance.

“But I thank ye for thinking of me,” Nareen said at last, relenting.

“It’s settled, then,” Gitta said firmly. “We’ll leave ye to yer morning, mistress.
Agnes will bring ye a noon meal. Our laird has strict rules for everyone. We all have
duties during the day, for there is much to build.”

Agnes was shaking with happiness. The girl moved in front of her and lowered herself
before following Gitta’s figure toward the door. The head of house was the last one
through.

Nareen found herself eating to the sound of the stonemasons working below. The steady
pace of their labor frustrated her as she ate. By the time she was finished, she was
feeling the lack of activity. It was like an itch that was just out of reach in the
middle of her back. She stacked her dishes, wiped the table clean, and found herself
pacing.

She used the comb to straighten her hair and braided it, but that took little time
also. It was a shame to not earn her bread.

A shame to be a burden on those who were working to make sure everyone had what they
needed.

A shame to be idle.

“Oh, fie,” she groused and stalked over to the linen.

She carried it back to the table and laid it out. She could make something for herself.

But that would be stealing.

No, no it was nae. The man had imprisoned her.

But it would be dishonest to use the linen without permission. At the very least,
she’d be taking a gift from him.

She wasn’t in the mood to thank him.

But she couldn’t do nothing for the entire day. She wasn’t doing it for Saer. At least
not as a personal service. She was simply earning her meals, like everyone else.

Aye.

That was right.

She went to the wardrobe and pulled out one of the two remaining shirts. One was in
tatters. The edges were worn and fraying. Along the sleeves, there were holes from
sword training. Many had been darned, but there were new ones. She laid it out and
found a measuring stick in the basket. With a piece of charcoal from the hearth, she
began to draw cutting lines on the fabric. In the Highlands, fabric was expensive.
So she didn’t cut into it until she checked her measurements twice.

Inside the basket, she found an iron and poked at the fire to find some coals. She
found a log and let it catch so she might heat the iron. Every piece of fabric had
to have its edges rolled and pressed and sewn before she might begin to assemble the
shirt.

But it was work, and she hummed as she listened to the stoneworkers in the yard.

***

“Ye’ve a fine, steady hand, mistress,” Agnes said in praise that evening.

Gitta and Agnes were both inspecting the pieces of the shirt she’d made. Her neck
ached from leaning over, but two sleeves were finished, with their cuffs neatly attached.
The body of the shirt had its neck gores in and was ready for the collar.

“Fine work indeed,” Gitta remarked with a tone rich in experience. “Nae a bit wasted,
either. That is how to make a shirt properly.”

“It hardly seems hard enough work to leave me with such an appetite,” Nareen said
as she began her supper.

A knock sounded, and Gitta went over to open the door. Maids entered with fresh bedding
in their arms. The head of house gestured them toward the bed as Agnes fussed around
the table. The meal was simple—a piece of bread, some soft cheese that spread easily
over the bread, and some small chunks of meat—so there was little for the girl to
do. She finally lowered herself and left.

“Is there any parchment and ink to be had, Gitta?” Nareen asked as the older woman
pointed her maids out of the chamber. “I should send me brother word of where I am.”

The head of house walked away from the bed and stood in front of the table.

“I’m sure the laird will satisfy whatever needs ye have,” Gitta said sweetly.

Nareen blushed as she realized what the woman was implying. There was a sparkle of
merriment in her eyes as she lowered herself and made her way toward the doors. Nareen’s
hand froze on the way to her mouth, because her throat had suddenly swollen shut.

The man had no mercy. But it was her own nature that was turning traitor against her
will.

The night air was blowing through the open arches, teasing her with the freedom she
was going to be denied now that Saer considered her his.

She glanced back toward the bed, and it made her admit there were parts of the arrangement
she did not find terrible. Yet she was torn.

Something caught her eye. She swept the bed twice before she realized the wardrobe
had something hanging in it. Gitta had lit a small tin lantern on the far side of
the chamber. The little slashes of light from the lantern danced over something hanging
inside. Pushing the chair back, she moved toward it and smiled when she realized it
was her dress. She reached for it and pulled it out, making a happy little sound when
she found her boots as well.

She tied her hip bolster around her waist and pushed it down into position around
her hips. Next came her overskirt, which she laced closed with a few quick motions.
She took a moment to adjust her chemise before pushing her hand into one sleeve and
then the other. When she pulled her bodice into place, she let out a sigh. She’d never
spent an entire day unclothed before. But once she began to lace the front of the
dress closed, she almost lamented the need to contain her breasts inside the stiffly
boned bodice.

Tears began to sting her eyes when she started to lace her boots. It was ridiculous,
but she couldn’t banish the sudden wave of reluctance moving through her. The dress
being returned could mean only one thing.

Saer was granting her her freedom. Shunning his marriage offer had shamed him, no
doubt.

It was for the best, and yet, she had trouble braiding her hair as tears escaped her
eyes.

The chamber door opened, revealing the man she’d spent so much time contemplating.
He was so vital, it struck her like a blow. She drank in the sight of him, trying
to memorize the details of his face, because she was sure it was the last time she
might see him.

“Come, lass.” He offered her his hand. “Let’s take a ride.”

“A ride?” she questioned.

He nodded. “I know ye enjoy them. So do I.”

Confusion held her in a tight grip.

“So, ye did nae return me dress because ye have tired of me resistance?”

“I am tired of it, truly, but ye have always represented a challenge to me, Nareen.”
He gestured her forward with a crook of his fingers. “We’ve talked enough and gained
naught. Let’s try some action.”

She was tempted, the invitation of his open hand delighting her and driving the sting
of unshed tears from her eyes. In fact, she was suddenly pleased, the hunger growing
inside her so quickly it was unnerving.

It also made her wary.

“Ye’re training me,” she muttered. “Offering me a treat for obedience.”

“Is that nae life?” he questioned. “Does nae even holy salvation come only with penitence?”

She wrinkled her brow as she contemplated his argument.

“Why do ye make me a villain?” He opened the chamber door. “I strive to please ye.”

“So I will wed ye.”

With the door open, it was hard to recall why she’d argued. Now, she was the one keeping
herself inside the chamber. It made no sense at all.

“I want ye for me wife, Nareen, but by yer own choice. Is that nae what ye are struggling
to maintain? Yer freedom of choice?”

She sucked in her breath, and he chuckled. “Ye see? I do understand ye.”

“I wish I understood myself.” The words slipped out before she realized what she was
admitting.

Saer tipped his head back and roared with amusement.

“Enough,” she groused on her way past him. Somehow, it was easier to do when she didn’t
have to place her hand in his.

She heard the door close as he followed her. Excitement began to pulse inside her
as she hurried down the stairs and felt the fresh air hitting her face.

“This way, Nareen…”

Saer took the lead, and she followed him eagerly.

Aye, eagerly.

***

Her mare was pleased to see her.

The animal lifted her ears the moment Nareen entered the row of stalls she was in.
She tossed her head and pawed at the ground when she recognized Nareen.

“Me men took her out today, but ye would nae know it to see the way she is acting.”

“I suppose I am to blame.” Nareen stroked the mare’s velvet neck. “The night has been
our time together for the last year.”

“I miss being able to ride as often as I used to,” he confessed.

Nareen looked over the neck of her mare at him. “Ye should be proud of what ye are
building here. It is a marvel.”

He tossed a bridle over to her and grinned. “I am, but maybe nae completely for the
right reasons.”

Nareen fitted the bridle onto the mare, grateful for the chance to keep her eyes off
him. The man had an unfair amount of handsomeness. Unfair because she needed her senses
uninhibited by his dark and dangerous looks.

“Why do ye say that?”

He reached over and pulled the mare from the stall. “Because part of me enjoyment
of what I’m building is knowing I am the man no one wanted taking the lairdship. Father
Peter would likely have something to say about that if I had any inclination to confess
it to him.”

Saer took the mare into the yard, where his stallion was already waiting. He turned
and clasped his hands around Nareen’s waist.

“I can mount meself.”

His eyes narrowed, his grip tightening and sliding to cup her hips. “Aye, lass, I
know that well, but I thought ye wanted to get outside the castle for a bit?”

Heat curled through her, sending her heart accelerating with excitement. “I do.”

He pushed his lips into a pout. “Oh, well…” He lifted her up and placed her on the
back of the mare. “Ye do have a talent for wounding me.”

“Only because ye—”

He held up his hand and shook his head. “Let us ride, lass, or I will take great delight
in kissing ye until ye forget what it is we’re arguing about.”

She settled her skirts and guided her mare away from him. “There…that is exactly why
I do nae wish to wed. Ye’ll assume whatever I say has no meaning because ye can overwhelm
me.”

He swung up and onto the back of his stallion. The animal shifted as it took his weight.
But he controlled it with the sure and steady command he seemed to have over everything.

Including her.

“Perhaps I think ye are the woman I should honor above all others, because together
we drive each other to ecstasy.”

“I mean no insult to ye, Saer.” Yet she was shamed by her actions, for she
was
insulting him.

His lips curled into a grin. “Ye’ll have to work harder to wound me, lass, and as
I promised ye this morning, I do nae back down from challenges.”

“Oh, I heard ye plain enough,” she said. “But taking me clothing was…it was…”

“Savage?” he suggested.

Her eyes narrowed, and she turned her mare toward the gate. Her blood was heating,
her temper flaring up, and there was only one thing that was going to lead to with
Saer MacLeod.

Passion.

If she didn’t avoid his bed, she’d be wedding him for certain when her belly rounded.

So she leaned over the neck of her mare and let the horse carry her away. Once she
was through both gates, she raced across the open ground that served to protect the
castle by offering no hiding places for approaching armies. The wind chilled her cheeks,
but she didn’t lose herself completely to the ride.

The reason was Saer. She felt him watching her. Some might call her a fool for saying
she could feel a gaze on her, but she did. There was a connection between them she
couldn’t seem to ignore.

Beyond the clearing, there was forest. Saer passed her and took the lead as they slowed
down to allow their horses to make their way around the trees. There were clouds tonight,
blocking out most of the moonlight. Saer looked back at her. She smiled at him and
enjoyed the look of approval that spread over his face.

He turned his horse and nudged it closer to hers. Time began to move slower as she
became aware of tiny details. The way his hair moved, the motion of his eyes as they
narrowed when locking on hers. Her heart accelerated, increasing her respiration and
pulling the scent of his skin into her senses. It was intoxicating—her grip on reality
loosened until all she cared about was how soon his fingers would brush her skin.
He was reaching for her, his leg brushing hers. She lifted her chin, tilting her head
slightly so his kiss might fit perfectly.

But something moved behind him. She blinked, almost too far gone to make sense of
the warning going off inside her head. But she opened her eyes, trying to focus on
the motion.

“Look—”

She didn’t get the chance to finish. Saer reacted instantly, turning with a vicious
cry. Someone dropped from the tree limbs above, dragging Saer off his stallion. There
was a hard sound as they hit the dirt, and then another growl of rage as Saer jumped
to his feet and flung the attacker off.