The Highlander's Sin (26 page)

Heather glanced up at Duncan. “I believe we’d already confessed just before entering your doors.”

Duncan’s chest tightened. Damn, he loved her. “Aye, we did.”

The prior summoned several monks forward and led them all into the Lady Chapel, where he ascended the altar and gestured for Duncan and Heather to kneel before him.

“My lady, Heather Sutherland, do ye come here willingly and honestly to marry his lairdship, Duncan MacKay?”

“Aye.”

“And do ye, Laird Duncan MacKay, come here willingly and honestly to marry her ladyship, Heather Sutherland?”

“Aye.”

“Then let us proceed.”

A short quarter hour later, they were pronounced man and wife, and Duncan, unable to resist, bent Heather backward over his arm and kissed the sin out of her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and eagerly kissed him back, washing away all doubt. She was his, now and forever.

“How dare ye!” The chapel erupted with the booming roar of Magnus Sutherland. “Scoundrel! Get your maggot
-infested hands off my sister!”

Duncan nearly dropped Heather in his shock, but quickly gripped on
to her tight and shoved her behind his back.

“No weapons in the church!” Prior
Samuel called out, his own voice booming off the rafters.

Magnus muttered something under his breath and left the chapel but poked his head right back inside.

“Outside. Now.”

Duncan
took orders from no one and was about to shout just that when Heather scurried from around him and headed down the aisle toward the door.

“Wife! Get back here!” But she ignored him.

Prior Samuel stepped beside him, suddenly calm now that the armed men had left his chapel. “I am by no means an expert on the subject, but it would seem to me, with that one in any case, demands and orders will rarely get ye what ye want.”

Duncan grunted and headed out of the church after his wife and, less eagerly, toward his new brother-by-marriage.

In the cloister, a half-dozen Sutherland warriors stood, fully armed. All the monks had disappeared, most probably expecting blood to be shed.

Magnus stood, glaring down at Heather, who spoke softly and calmly. Duncan could not hear what she said until he was nearly upon them. Even Magnus’ glare to stay back did not make him cease his advance.

Magnus pointed at him, threats dripping from his stance. “Ye’re dead.”

Duncan grinned, though not with humor. “I’m quite alive, in fact.”

“Not in a few moments ye won’t be.” Magnus pulled his sword from its sheath.

“Magnus! Stop. Duncan is my husband, and I love him.” Though she pressed the news upon her brother, he did not seem to have any care in it. Pure rage filled the man’s eyes, inciting in Duncan an intense desire to fight.

“Come, now, wife, let us men talk it through.”

Magnus cringed at his use of the word wife, making Duncan grin all the wider.

“I’ll have this sham of a marriage annulled. Ye’ve only just recited your vows. There’s been no consummation.” He glanced at Heather. “Ye’ll be coming home with me.”

“I stole her from ye once. What makes ye think I won’t do it again? No locked door or dungeon cell could keep me away from her.”

They advanced on each other, stopped only by Heather, who jumped between them. She pressed a hand to each man’s chest.

“Magnus, I’ll not be going with ye. We have, in fact, consummated this marriage…twice now.”

That only seemed to ignite the man’s rage all the more. Duncan kept his gaze steady on him.

With deadly intent, Duncan said,
“The only way ye’re taking her away from me is over my bloodied, dead body.”

Magnus snarled.
“Then let us begin.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
here would be a bloodbath.

Heather’s heart plummeted to somewhere around her feet. Her eldest brother facing off with her husband? Bile rose in her throat. Neither would survive. They would fight each other even when both lay bloody and dying upon the cloister ground.

“Stop this!” she shouted, pressing against both chests so hard her arms hurt. “There will be no fighting!”

Prior Samuel tried to intervene, but his voice was drummed out by the insults Duncan and Magnus slung back and forth. Her older brother was particularly sour about men stealing his sisters—especially since Lorna had been seduced by a man only a few years prior. A love match, just as Heather’s was.

She stared up into her brother’s face, a snarl on his lips and murder in his eyes. “Magnus, ye must stop. I love him. He saved me from Ina Ross.”

That got his attention. His snarl slackened
, and his eyes widened a fraction as he turned his surprised gaze on her. “Ina? What are ye talking about?”

“She had me abducted. From the chapel
at Dunrobin.” She failed to mention, on purpose, who had done the abducting.

“And how, exactly
,”—he glanced at Duncan,—“did ye end up married to this sot?”

Heather turned to stand in front of Duncan, facing her brother. “He saved me.”

“Saved ye?” Magnus stared over her head, skepticism in his voice. “How, exactly, did he save ye?”

“I abducted her.” Duncan said the words before she could reply. Damn him!

That only made Magnus angry once more, and he jerked forward, barely stopped by the press of her hands on his chest. “I was right. Ye stole her, ye maggot!”

“She went
willingly. The lass was preparing to leave Dunrobin on her own. I merely provided a means to depart.”

Dear heavens, would her husband ever stop talking? Did he not realize he was only making things worse?

“Trickery!” Magnus shouted.

Heather whirled around to her husband. “Please, Duncan, let me handle this.”

The blasted man barely looked at her.

“Och! A man who canna even be a man,” Magnus taunted.

Duncan’s eyes darkened, and she saw the same angry rage in his eyes that she’d seen in her brothers. She rolled her eyes and turned back to Magnus.

“Really, brother. Ye must not taunt a bear.” Placing her hands on her hips, she went for the same posture she’d seen her sister-by-marriage use with Magnus many a time. “Now, that is enough. I have married the man. I will stay married to the man. How I came to meet him is none of your concern. Only know that he treated me honorably and that he is now
bound
to the Sutherland family, and he shall cause
no harm
to ye.” She emphasized the words for her husband’s sake, hoping he heard them past the roar of revenge burning through his mind.

“A bear? The man’s barely a cub. Is he English?” Magnus’s taunts grew worse by the minute.

Heather was fairly certain this was going to come to blows, no matter how much she wished it wouldn’t.

“Bastard,” Duncan seethed.

“Hand over your weapons. All of them,” Heather demanded. She reached for the sword at Magnus’s hip, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. “I see that neither of ye will begin to see reason until ye’ve beaten each other into the dirt. Therefore, ye must relinquish all weapons afore ye do so. I’ll not bury my brother and my husband on the same day.”

She’d hoped the men would see reason then and just shake hands, but as if they were children and she’d offered them a sweet, each man eagerly discarded every weapon on his person, hidden knives and all. They tossed them at her feet, making quite a clatter with all the metal. As they discarded one weapon after another, they did so without taking their eyes off each other, as if they measured who had a longer sword and who had more knives and other wicked means of defense. Duncan won that battle when he unstrapped the devil ax from its fastening on his chest.

“Has it really come to this?” she asked, exasperated.

“Get out of the way,” Magnus ordered her.

“Dinna speak to my wife like that,” Duncan snarled. “Wife, step back.”

Heather threw her hands up on the air and turned to see her brother Blane with his arms crossed, looking on with eager interest.

“Are ye all mad?” she said to him. “Make them stop. ’Tis ridiculous.”

Blane shifted his gaze to her,
hands on his hips, lips in a firm line, annoying annoyed her beyond measure. “This must be done.”

Were all men daft?
For heaven’s sake, would they all just let blood be spilled without a care for her thoughts?

“Blane,” Magnus called.

That was when Heather made the mistake of turning around to see what her eldest brother was about. With her back to Blane, he was easily able to march up behind her and toss her over his shoulder. She screamed, hammered at his back, kicked, but he didn’t relent, only took her where a crowd had gathered in a ring around the men.

“Do ye wish to watch or shall I find a quiet spot to lock ye up?” he asked.

“Ye’re a terrible brother!” Fury laced her words and ran rampant through her veins. Now she wanted in on the fight.

“Hush, lass, the men are about to begin.”

“Put me down.” Closing her eyes tight and taking as deep a breath as she could while stomach-down on his shoulder, she said, “I want to watch.”

Her admission was the furthest thing from the truth. She had no interest whatsoever in watching her husband and brother pummel each other.

Blane grunted and set her on her feet, keeping a tight, restraining grip on her elbow.

“Promise me something?” she asked, fear settling in the pit of her belly.

Duncan and Magnus were circling one another.

“What?”
Blane’s voice was edged with irritation.

“If it looks like they are going to murder each other, please intervene.”

He only grunted again.

“Now is not the time for manly responses, Blane. I’m worried.”

“It will not come to that.” Was he trying for reassuring? For his voice fell flat.

“Promise me,
” she urged.

“I promise.”

Before she could thank Blane, a resounding crack yanked her attention back to the two brawling men. ’Twas the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Magnus had socked her husband.

“That will be the only hit I allow freely,” Duncan said
, serious and calm. “And only because ’twas your right as the brother and guardian of my wife to have given her away. I deserved that one hit.”

“Damn right,” Magnus said.

“But ye’ll not get past me so easily again.”

The men continued to jab their fists, ducking, throwing near-misses, hitting full-on. It was painful to watch. But
Duncan remained true to his word. He didn’t allow Magnus to hit him without working for it.

She also noted that he’d never told her brother who he was or about his personal vendetta against the Sutherlands. Why?

But she could no more think on it, just as she could not cease their fight. Each bled from a bloodied lip. Each boasted an eye slowly bruising and swelling and two pairs of bloody knuckles.

Heather had to bite her cheek every time she wanted to shout for them to stop. Duncan bounced back, Magnus missing, swinging into the air, and just as his fist finished its descent, Duncan swung upward, cracking Magnus in the jaw. The hit had him stumbling backward. She thought for sure he’d lose his footing, but he didn’t. Instead, he lowered himself into a tackling position and ran at Duncan, who braced his feet, waiting for impact.

Magnus barreled into him with a move that should have knocked Duncan from his feet, but her husband seemed prepared for it and grabbed hold of Magnus’s back instead. They wrestled on foot until it seemed they both lost their balance at the same time, and they went rolling to the ground.

One on top of the other, they punched, blocked, retaliated. It was a nonstop, brutal attack that seemed never-ending.

Heather’s heart had long since ceased beating, and her stomach had taken up permanent residence in her throat.

A sheer whistle took all of their attention, even the two brawling men on the ground. Everyone turned to face Prior Samuel, who stood by the main door.

“Your guests have arrived,” he said calmly.

Following his announcement, a loud banging sounded on the doors.

“Dinna open it,” Duncan ordered.

Prior Samuel nodded his head. “Keep us safe, my laird.”

“I will,” Duncan and Magnus said in unison before turning to glare at one another.

“Your husband is a laird?” Blane asked.

“Laird who?” Magnus asked Duncan.

“Laird MacKay.”

The courtyard grew silent, save for the banging that resumed on the front doors.

Magnus frowned, swiped at a trickle of blood from his lip. Duncan mirrored him.

“Am I good enough for her now?” Duncan sneered.

“No one will ever be good enough for her. But I think I understand now why she was worried
about ye harming us. I know your history.”

Duncan grunted. “And?”

“’Twas unfortunate that my uncle disobeyed direct orders. Truly. On behalf of my clan, I do offer ye an apology, and gratitude for not seeking revenge.” Magnus glanced at Heather. “Although, I canna say as ye got the better end of the deal.” He winked at her.

Duncan chuckled. “She’s a hellion. But she’s mine.”

Magnus stuck out his arm. “Take care of her.”

“Until my dying breath.” Duncan grabbed hold of Magnus’s arm.

Her husband. Her brother. Making amends. ’Haps a good beating had been all they’d needed. She decided then and there that when it came to certain things, men really were daft. Heather ran up to the both of them, lifted up on tiptoe and slung her arms around their shoulders.

“Thank ye,” she whispered, holding back tears of joy. “Now don your weapons and dispense of the pests that Ina Ross and her English husband have become.”

“Become?” Magnus chuckled. “Nothing’s changed.”

Duncan smirked. “Right ye are about that.”

Magnus sauntered toward the gate, leaving Heather a moment of privacy with Duncan. Well, as private as it could be, surrounded by warriors.

“What will ye do?” she asked, worry creasing her brow.

Duncan pulled her into his embrace. “We’ll attempt to settle this peacefully first. No need to shed any more blood on our wedding day.”

“And since ye’re dealing with the Ross clan
, what will truly be your plan?”

“Predictable
, are they?” he teased. “We’ll dispatch them as soon as we can.”

Heather smoothed away blood from his lip, seeing it was bruised beneath. “Kiss me for good luck. Gently.”

Duncan pulled her tighter against him and leaned down, brushing his lips on hers. “’Tis hard to kiss ye gently, lass, when all I want to do is delve inside and devour ye whole.”

“When ye come back.”

“When I come back.”

Heather watched him go toward the gate to join her brothers.

But they were back sooner than she’d expected. It had taken Ina and Marmaduke only a quarter hour to decide they’d not enough men to fight the Sutherlands. It also helped that Prior Samuel had told them they both had a straight ticket to purgatory, and he was going to make sure their clan chaplain knew about it.

As assurance, Ina’s cousin
Padrig, whom she’d originally planned to marry to Heather, was taken into the church as a novice monk. One wrong move from Ina or Marmaduke, and the lad would be turned over to Duncan. Ina cared for her cousin like a sibling—and heir—and had not been accommodating at first, but she’d known she did not have enough manpower to withstand a battle. It was agreed that on the young man’s twenty-fifth birthday, he could be returned to her.

The Sutherlands and
MacKays had five years of peace, at least, to look forward to. But Heather couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for Ina to break down and forfeit the life of her beloved cousin in the name of revenge.