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Authors: Connie Mason

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BOOK: Highland Warrior
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They arrived at Braeburn a few hours later, in time to join a prewedding celebration. Even amid the air of jubilation, Ross felt a stirring of disquiet, as if something unexpected was about to happen. He prowled the hall but could find naught amiss. He raised a tankard of ale with a group of MacKays, impressed with their friendliness and camaraderie. This wouldn’t be possible if the clans were still feuding.
Ross caught sight of Gillian across the crowded hall, talking and laughing with a group of her kinswomen. Naught seemed amiss there. He spied Gordo and made his way to him, stopping along the way to congratulate Murdoc on his upcoming nuptials.
“What think you, Uncle?” Ross asked when he reached Gordo.
“ ’Tis a fine gathering of former enemies,” Gordo said dryly. He slanted a glance at his nephew. “What’s amiss?You look troubled.”
“I doona know, Gordo. I canna put my finger on it. All seems well, but I amna convinced. Have you seen a Sinclair in the crowd?”
Gordo glanced slowly about the hall, trying to identify the different plaids. “Nay, I see no Sinclairs, but that doesna mean they are nae here.”
Tearlach MacKay strode up and clapped Ross on the back. “I see you’ve succeeded in making peace with my daughter, son-in-law.”
“It wasna easy,” Ross admitted. “Gillian’s temper is a fearsome thing.”
Tearlach chuckled. “That it is. ’Tis glad I am to see you both. Bringing our clansmen together like this will go a long way to ensure peace between future generations. I want Murdoc’s bairns to live without fear. I ken not all Highland clans feel the same, but mayhap a lasting peace between the MacKays and MacKennas will inspire others to follow our example.”
Ross nodded agreement. “Are all your allies expected to attend the celebration?”
“Aye.”
“What about the Sinclairs? I doona see any of them in the hall.”
“Angus sent word that he and his clansmen would arrive in time for the ceremony tomorrow.”
When Ross merely grunted, Tearlach moved on.
Gordo searched Ross’s face for several heartbeats before asking, “What are you thinking, lad?”
“I doona trust Sinclair. If he doesna show up tomorrow, I’m thinking we should head back to Ravenscraig instead of lingering here to celebrate, as we originally planned.”
“Whatever you decide is fine with me, Ross. I learned long ago to trust your judgment.”
 
As it happened, Angus Sinclair arrived with a small group of his kinsmen the following morning, well before the ceremony was to begin. Ross was standing beside Gillian as he watched Sinclair wade into the crowd before being swallowed up by the solid mass of humanity waiting to proceed to the kirk.
“I need a heavier shawl,” Gillian remarked as a blast of cold air rolled in through the open door. “Wait here, Ross. I willna be long.”
Ross wasn’t going anywhere. He was too intent on keeping an eye on Sinclair, though he had no idea where the man had disappeared to. “Hurry,” Ross said. “The procession to the kirk is about to begin.”
“Go on without me if I’m not back,” Gillian said. “I’ll join you at the kirk.”
Gillian hurried off to her chamber. She found her heavy plaid shawl where she had left it and exchanged it for the lighter-weight one she was wearing. When she heard the door open and shut behind her, she smiled and turned, expecting to see an impatient Ross.
“Angus! What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you. When I saw you go up to your chamber, I followed.”
More than a little angry, Gillian snapped, “Make it fast, Angus. Ross is waiting for me.”
“He left for the kirk with the others. We are quite alone.”
A frisson of apprehension slid down her spine. “This isna right. We shouldna be alone in my bedchamber. You can tell me what you wish to say on the way to the kirk.” She reached for the door latch.
Angus was there before her. “Are you happy, Gillian?”
“Happy enough,” Gillian admitted. “What is this about?”
“We cared for each other, lass. “Twas me you wanted to wed; me you
should
have wed.”
“We canna change what happened, Angus. I am wed to Ross now; there is naught either of us can do about it.”
“You’re wrong, Gillian. There is a great deal I can do about it. You can come with me now. According to the agreement between your father and MacKenna, if you leave your husband, the feud will resume.”
“I doona ken why you wish to sabotage the truce.”
“And I doona ken why you wish to live with the enemy. I am willing to have you even if MacKenna had you first.”
“I canna do it, Angus. ’Tis true I wanted to wed you; why did you nae speak up sooner? Now I have spoken my vows. I am legally joined to Ross; naught will change that.”
“How can you give your body to the enemy? How can you endure the shame?”
Ross’s lovemaking wasn’t difficult to endure, Gillian thought, smiling inwardly. It was pure magic. As for shame, if her father and brothers felt no shame dealing with Ross MacKenna, then why should she? Besides, she had begun to realize there was more to Ross than his mighty sword arm and skill as a warrior. It was difficult to think of Ross as an enemy when he had been inside her body, giving her more pleasure than she could bear.
“There is no shame to be had in the marriage bed,” Gillian maintained.
“Do you enjoy kissing the MacKenna, Gillian?”
Gillian merely stared at him.
“Let me show you how a real man kisses.”
Though Gillian knew what Angus intended, she was unarmed and defenseless. Snagging her around the waist, he dragged her against him and claimed her mouth with ruthless determination. His lips were demanding, hard, nearly painfully so. He backed her toward the bed. She resisted; he persisted. His tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, but she stubbornly refused to open.
The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She went down heavily, taking all of his weight as he followed her down. She felt him tugging her skirts upward and pounded him on the back. When she opened her mouth to scream, he thrust his tongue down her throat. She retaliated by clamping down hard with her teeth. He jerked back and cursed.
“Give over, Gillian. You know you want me.”
She pushed against him. “Why are you doing this, Angus?”
Both looked up when the door burst open. “What in the hell is going on here?” Ross snarled.
Angus leaped to his feet. “It should be obvious, MacKenna. Gillian and I arranged this meeting. She doesna want you. ’Twas always me she wanted.”
Gillian scooted off the bed, so angry with Angus she wanted to take up her sword and run him through. Then she looked into Ross’s face and lost the ability to speak. She had never seen him like this. The stark planes of his face were rigid with rage, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes cold and flat.
“Ross ... I—”
“What do you have to say for yourself, Gillian?” Ross asked through clenched teeth.
“I didna invite Angus to my chamber.”
Ross skewered Sinclair with a look that would have felled a man with a conscience. “Is what Gillian said true, Sinclair?”
“Gillian never wanted to wed you, MacKenna,” Sinclair confided. “She and I had an understanding. I would have wed her had you not interfered. She invited me up here. I could deny her naught.”
“You lie!” Gillian cried. “Doona believe him, Ross.”
“Get out!” Ross ordered, pointing Sinclair toward the door.
Once they were alone, Gillian said, “He is lying, Ross; I swear it.”
Gillian shivered beneath his cool regard. “We will discuss this later, Gillian. We’re late. We must leave for the kirk immediately.” He found her plaid, wrapped it about her shoulders, and escorted her from the chamber.
Tearlach was waiting for them at the kirk. “Where have you been?” he admonished. “We held the ceremony for you.”
“We were unavoidably detained,” Ross explained as he guided Gillian to the pew reserved for family.
Gillian was quick to note that Angus was sitting in the kirk with other members of his clan. Moments later Murdoc’s bonny bride appeared and the wedding commenced. Ross remained blessedly mute, though his expression was no less fierce. Did he really believe she had invited Angus to her chamber?
The ceremony was brief but meaningful. Gillian shed tears of happiness for Murdoc. For the first time since the truce, she realized how much peace meant to her family. Because of the constant fighting, her brothers had deliberately refrained from taking brides, lest they be killed in one of the frequent battles with the MacKennas and leave their wives widows. Now, mayhap Ramsey and Nab would consider marrying and settling down, too.
The celebration continued in Braeburn’s great hall. After a meal that seemed to drag on forever, the tables were cleared so dancing could begin.
Ross had never felt jealousy before and scarcely recognized his reaction to the scene in Gillian’s bedroom. He had always known that she preferred Angus Sinclair to him, but he had hoped she would settle into their marriage without too many regrets. From what he had observed earlier in her chamber, she still yearned for Sindair.
Ross glanced around the hall, noting that Sinclair was speaking earnestly to Seana. Where was Niall? He angled a look at Gillian, surprised to see her staring at Sinclair and Seana, too.
“I didna know they were friends,” Gillian remarked, gesturing toward the couple.
“Neither did I, although ’tisna odd. Clan McHamish is neutral, friends to both Clan MacKay and Clan MacKenna. They have never taken sides.”
The commotion in the hall grew more intense as the tables were pushed against the wall and people crowded around the bride and groom to offer congratulations and words of advice.
“We need to talk about what happened in your chamber earlier,” Ross said. “If we leave now, our absence willna be noticed.”
Gillian stared at Ross for the space of two heartbeats and then nodded. Ross had difficulty looking away from the mesmerizing depths of her emerald-green eyes. They sucked him in and would have devoured him if he hadn’t found the strength to turn away.
“Come,” he said, guiding her from the hall. No one seemed to notice them slip away and mount the stairs to Gillian’s old chamber.
The moment Ross closed the door, Gillian rounded on him. “I didna invite Angus into my chamber. You accuse me falsely, MacKenna.”
“I’ve accused you of naught ... yet.” He glanced at the mussed bed, his expression brittle with disgust. “Please explain why you and Sinclair were rolling around on the bed like animals in heat.”
“If I had my sword, I would run you through for that remark. Any fool could see Angus was attacking me and I was resisting.”
Ross could do naught but stare at her; she was magnificent in her fury No flame burned brighter than Gillian. She almost made him forget he wanted to take her to task for inviting Sinclair’s attention.
“Tell me what happened,” he demanded.
Gillian slanted him a dismissive look. “I doona need to explain myself. If you refuse to believe me, ’tis your loss.” She turned away.
“Oh, no, I need more than that, Gillian. Did you invite Sinclair into your chamber?”
She gave an exasperated huff. “Are you deaf? I already told you I didna.”
“Are you saying he tried to force himself on you?”
“Are you daft as well as deaf, MacKenna? Of course he did, and that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”
“If you are telling the truth, Sinclair will be made to pay for his insult to you.”
Turning on his heel, he strode toward the door.
“Wait! What are you going to do?”
“Doona overset yourself, lass. ’Tis none of your concern. I will take care of Sinclair.”
“Do naught to end the truce. ’Tis what Angus wants.”
Ross spun around to face her. “Did he tell you that?”
“Not in so many words, but it was implied.”
“Why? What does he hope to gain if the feud resumes?”
“I doona know.”
Ross sent her a hard look. “Then ’tis up to me to find out.”
With a lethal glint in his eyes and his hands clenched into fists, Ross stormed out.
Chapter Nine
 
The wedding celebration in the hall had become a noisy, drunken revelry. Though the bride and groom had disappeared, the festivities continued without them. Ross’s anger still raged as he entered the hall and glanced about for Angus Sinclair. He saw the object of his animosity standing with Seana’s father, Douglas McHamish, on the periphery of the crowd, and strode purposefully toward him.
Ross knew the moment Sinclair saw him, for Sinclair stiffened and assumed a confrontational stance.
BOOK: Highland Warrior
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