Highland Heat (30 page)

There was a muffled cry from outside the chamber door. “Let me in there!”

Mary suddenly looked stricken as Amber’s voice floated beneath the door. She snapped her fingers at her attendants.

“Hurry up… ye fools!”

Someone grabbed Deirdre’s biceps from behind, and Alice lifted the log above her head to bring it crashing down on Deirdre’s skull, but Deirdre bent her knees, and the log hit the attendant holding her with a dull sound.

Deirdre surged to her feet and lunged toward Mary. The lady let out a shriek of surprise and sent a hand swinging at Deirdre’s head.

Deirdre grunted when it hit her, but gripped Mary’s hair in a vicious hold, pulling her head up until it was next to her own. The attendants all froze, unwilling to risk hitting their lady.

“The next blow that lands on me will split yer skull too,” she hissed into Mary’s ear.

The lady opened her mouth and screamed. She screeched loud enough to be heard in the yard below, and the stairwell was full of the sound of men rushing to her assistance. The door was jerked open by the Sinclair retainers, but Amber tumbled into the room first.

Deirdre released Mary with a mutter of disgust, and her maids all clustered about her. But the lady refused to be soothed. She screamed and yelled in spite of the men crowding the solar, her face flushed red with her fit.

“She tried to kill me! She’s a lunatic! Lock her in chains before she murders me!”

The Sinclair retainers turned on her with rage shimmering in their eyes. Amber flew between them and Deirdre, covering Deirdre with her own body.

“That is nae true!” Amber shouted. “I heard everything from the storeroom below. Mary Ross tried to murder Lady Deirdre and the child she’s carrying—Laird Cameron’s child.”

The solar became a mass of swearing and yelling. Sinclair plaids faced off with Cameron colors as Deirdre was pushed back against the stone wall of the solar by Amber.

“Stop… everyone… stop…”

No one heard her above the fighting, and she watched in horror as dirks were pulled from boot tops and belts. There was no way to stop the impending bloodbath, no way to be heard above the shouting.

“Hold!”

Authority edged the tone of the man who shouted that single word. It was something that every man in the solar felt as well as heard. Hands were still clenched around dirk handles, but the men turned their heads to look toward the doorway.

Deirdre whimpered with relief.

Quinton stood there, along with a young man wearing the Sinclair plaid. In the side of his bonnet were three feathers all pointing upward, and the Sinclair retainers lowered their weapons.

“What have ye been about… sweet stepmother?” the Sinclair laird asked. The retainers who had escorted Mary Ross to Drumdeer looked confused, but their laird stepped forward and slapped Mary across the face.

“Ye murdered my father, and I swear ye’ll answer for the crime.”

Mary trembled visibly. “Ye have no proof, no witness to convict me.”

“Do ye think ye are the only one who has spies? I’ve had ye watched for years, and I assure ye I have a witness who will swear ye smothered me father while he lay with ye. If ye had no’ taken to the road so quickly, I’d have run ye down before ye left Sinclair land. But I have ye now, and ye can be grateful that I’ll at least grant ye a priest before I have ye hanged. It’s more than ye gave me father.”

Quinton stepped between the Sinclair laird and Mary Ross. She smiled at him, her face becoming radiant. “Quinton, my darling… ye must help me… Do ye see how it’s been for me? Cyric has always hated me because he was jealous of the love his father had for me. Ye have to give me protection from him, keep me here with ye. My father forced me to wed Gower Sinclair… I wanted ye.”

Quinton looked into her eyes, and Deirdre felt her heart freeze. Mary reached for him, her hands delicate and trembling. He captured them, only to push them away.

“I’d rather knot the noose about yer throat meself. How dare ye come here with a man’s blood on yer hands?”

“Ye love me…” It was a ghost of a whisper, but Mary’s face turned bright red a moment later. “It’s because of her!”

Mary turned on her in a rage. “
Ye Chattan whore! Ye shall no’ have my place!
”

Mary lunged toward her, and the wall behind her back made it impossible to escape. She pulled a small dagger from her sleeve, and Deirdre lifted her arms to protect herself.

Mary never touched her.

There was a soft sound, too delicate for the dire circumstances, but there was no pain from a dagger entering her flesh. Deirdre looked around her arms and stared into the sky blue eyes of the beautiful woman. Her face was frozen in a mask of disbelief, and the front half of a sword protruded from her chest. It was stained with her blood, and she smiled before her body went limp.

“I could offer ye an apology, Cyric, but it would be a lie.” Quinton pulled his sword free and wiped it on the back of Mary’s slumped body.

“Ye saved me the trouble of listening to her whimper all the way back to Sinclair land.” Cyric Sinclair nodded, but there was no easing of the anger that flickered in his dark eyes. He looked at the Sinclair retainers who had escorted Mary Ross to Drumdeer.

“She murdered my father, and they helped her.” He pointed at Mary’s attendants.

Every set of eyes turned toward Mary’s ladies. They were pressed together, Alice still holding the long piece of firewood she’d hit Deirdre with. Her eyes grew wide, and she suddenly looked down at the log. With a soft shriek, she released it, and it fell to the floor with a dull sound.

“She made me do it… I have no place without her…” Alice muttered. One of the others hissed at her, but Alice continued to babble. “She threatened to turn me out if I—if we did nae help her. I had to… my father will nae have me back!”

“Get them out of here!” Quinton roared.

“No, get me out of this solar!” Deirdre shouted at him before anyone had the chance to move. “I cannae stomach this place another moment.”

Deirdre didn’t care if her tone lacked respect. She couldn’t breathe and started for the door before Quinton had the chance to respond. She grabbed a handful of her robes so she might run and ducked around the men in the room. Quinton cursed but couldn’t follow her, because of his larger size.

She made it down two flights of stairs before she heard him on her heels.

“I need fresh air, Quinton.”

He hooked a hand around her arm and jerked her to a halt. “I only demand ye slow down so that bitch does nae gain what she wanted by having ye break yer neck when ye stumble.”

She trembled, the look in his eyes setting off ripples of emotion that refused to be controlled. He slid one hand along her cheek, tenderness shining in his eyes.

“I love ye.”

Her heart leaped, but Deirdre forced herself to be reasonable.

“Ye do nae have to say that. I’d rather ye be honest with me, Quinton. I’ll no’ leave ye, for I do love ye, and I cannae turn me back on ye.”

He snarled at her and clamped his arms around her, but his body quivered.

“I swear I love ye, and I’m the biggest fool for having to learn it by looking into the eyes of a woman who only used those words to gain what I might give her.” His voice was ragged, and she froze as she watched unshed tears turning them glassy. Hope flared up inside her so bright, it was impossible to stop.

“I swear to God it made me want to fall on me knees at yer feet in gratitude for the love ye offer me without a care for anything ye might gain.”

“I do love ye, Quinton, but I know it is no’ common in men… to love…” Her voice trembled, but she maintained her stance, refusing to lower her eyes. Let him see what she was.

He smoothed his hand over her face. “I love ye.” This time, each word was solid and hard. “I swear to God I’m confused by it and frustrated, but there is no denying it’s true. Ye are my counterpart, Deirdre, and I finally understand what those damn poets mean by the word ‘soul mate.’”

She smiled, too full of joy to do anything else. “I think I’m with child.”

His face registered his astonishment, and then rage flickered in his eyes.

“We’re getting married.”

Arrogant and demanding, his tone was one she knew well. It was the truth that loving him didn’t change the fact that she still found the man vexing.

“It’s my choice, and that was nae a question, so do nae think I’ll be standing for ye telling me what to do, Quinton Cameron.”

He rolled his eyes and snarled a phrase in Gaelic that she doubted was polite. “Ye will, hellion. I swear to all that’s holy that we will wed before the harvest moon fades.”

She propped her hands on her hips, relief surging through her because there was something comforting in arguing with him. But Amber caught up with her, as did several of his men, so she settled for shooting him a firm look that earned her a glint of promise from his eyes.

She was suddenly ridiculously happy. A sense of rightness settled over her, and she knew without a doubt that it came from the man she was glaring at.

But she didn’t smile at him. After all, he was the one who kept calling her hellion.

***

Her belly was growing.

Deirdre lay in bed, her head pillowed on Quinton’s arms as he lay beside her and gently stroked their growing child.

“How could ye no’ know?”

She made a low sound of frustration and slapped his shoulder. “I’ve no’ been with child before.”

He lifted his head so that their eyes met. “I thought women were sick in the first few months.”

She laid her hands on her belly and felt the unmistakable bulge of her womb. It was still amazing to realize that she’d been so unaware of the changes in her body.

“I thought it was just the tension of being a prisoner. My belly was unsettled, but I dismissed it.”

He frowned at the mention of her time away from him. “We’re getting married, Deirdre.”

“Ye have still no’ asked me to wed ye.”

“I’m an earl, madam, and laird of the Cameron…”

She lifted her knee until it was against his erect member. “And I told ye before, Quinton Cameron, and whatever else ye be, I am no’ a whore, so do nae expect any of that to sway me thinking.”

“True enough. Ye are me lover, and I enjoy that full well. I suppose tomorrow is soon enough for us to argue again, but I plan to win next time.”

He contemplated her for a moment but lay down without saying anything else. Suspicion tingled through her, but she was too warm and blissful lying against him to think about things any longer. She fell asleep with the sound of his breathing against her ear.

***

Cyric Sinclair was waiting for her when she descended to the ground floor the next morning. It was obvious he’d been standing there to meet her because Quinton had left the chamber only moments before she did.

But the Sinclair laird was still waiting at the base of the stairs. Deirdre lowered herself.

“I’m sorry, Laird Sinclair. I did no’ know ye were waiting to see me.”

“It’s barely past dawn, Lady Deirdre. No apology is necessary except the one I’m wanting to give ye. Me men should have stopped Mary Ross from leaving Castle Sinclair. I have never trusted her.”

“Ye had no way of knowing she’d do such a horrible thing.”

Cyric Sinclair’s expression hardened. He had dark eyes but light-colored hair. He’d shaved his beard away, confirming just how quickly he’d been on Mary’s trail.

“I suspected she was plotting evil, but my father was laird, and I could nae accuse his wife openly. It brings me no pleasure to be able to prove my position now.”

“I understand.”

And she wished she might offer more words of comfort, for it was clear the man was bitterly angry. He nodded before turning to leave, and his men followed their laird.

“He looked furious, Lady Deirdre,” Amber muttered when she joined Deirdre.

“Aye, but it’s directed at himself.”

And little wonder, but Deirdre was too happy to commiserate with the man. She smiled at Amber, and the Cameron girl smiled back.

“When are ye wedding the laird, lady?”

Deirdre frowned. “I am no’ marrying him until he asks me.”

Amber looked confused, as did the other girls who joined them. Deirdre lifted her chin high.

“But he’s the laird…”

“No’ my laird. To me, he’s me lover, and a lover must ask for what he wants.”

Amber frowned, but Deirdre laughed.

He loved her.

She had everything that she desired. She looked at the confusion on her ladies’ faces. “Come now, Amber. We’ve a day to see to, and I will deal with yer laird once the sun sets. Ye would nae want me to bore him with complicity?”

There were knowing laughs and bright smiles in response.

***

Deirdre was looking out of the window of her study about a week later when two arms wrapped around her. She jumped but laughed when she smelled the scent of Quinton’s skin.

He nuzzled her neck while his hands gently settled on top of her belly.

“Daydreaming, are ye? What should I do about that, do ye think?”

Deirdre angled her neck so that he might press a kiss against it. “Encourage me in my whimsical ways. After all, I am yer lover.”

“I would have ye be more, Deirdre.”

His voice grew deeper and more serious. She laid her hands on top of his.

“Maybe I want to prove my love to ye by refusing yer title.”

“Ye’ve proved it, Deirdre. I realize why I thought my heart was dead; it was because I was always looking into the eyes of women who viewed me as nothing but a fancy possession to get their greedy hands on. It was nae my heart that was dead—it was theirs.”

“I love ye, Quinton—just the man.”

“And the earl?”

Deirdre clicked her tongue. “I’m learning to have patience with him.”

He laughed at her, tossing his head back so the sound echoed off the ceiling.

“I’m relieved to hear ye say that, lass… truly I am.”

The bells on the walls began to ring. Quinton maintained his hold on her as she looked toward the gate to see who was arriving.

“Who’s here?”

Quinton turned her around and pressed a hard kiss against her lips. His blue eyes were full of love, but there was also the unmistakable hint of victory in his grin.

“Yer father is here… hellion.” He smothered her retort beneath a hard kiss that left no doubt in her mind that he had planned to crush her resistance and was proud of his achievement.

“We’re having a wedding, and ye’re the bride.”

“Oh… ye arrogant beast! Ye had no right to summon me father.”

He stepped back, still grinning at her, but one of his dark eyebrows rose. “Admit it, hellion. Ye’ve been bested. I love many things about ye, and one of them is yer sense of honor. Ye’ll wed me by yer father’s command, and that’s a fact.”

Her temper sizzled even as happiness spread through her. She did enjoy pitting her wits against the man’s, maybe more than he did.

“That might be so, Laird Cameron, but I’ll birth ye a daughter because I decide to, and that is a fact.”

He chuckled before offering her a polished bow.

“I can hardly wait… hellion. Wear yer silk finery.”

“I will nae! It is nae mine, so I will nae wear it.”

He laughed at her but gripped her wrist and pulled her after him. They descended the stairs and went through the stone hallways until they reached the yard. Robert Chattan rode forward with his retainers close at his back. She smiled and felt tears sting her eyes when he looked at her. There was an unmistakable look of happiness in his eyes. He slid from his horse and took the stairs two at a time. She expected him to greet Quinton, but her father came directly to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“Sweet Christ! I’ve lost half me hair since Kaie wrote me with the news that ye had gone missing from the abbey. Thank God ye’re well.”

He released her and studied her from the top of her head to her feet before nodding and looking toward Quinton.

“Now what’s this I hear about me daughter carrying yer child?”

Quinton rolled his eyes. “Aye, she is, and I’m wanting to wed her—”

Her father sent a hard blow toward Quinton’s jaw. It connected because Quinton wasn’t expecting it. Deirdre smothered a smile behind her hand as her father winked at her.