The Bride (31 page)

Her expression hardened when she turned back to the laird. "Why God blessed you with such a dear child I'll never understand. This little one has just had his noon feeding and if you get him riled, he's bound to throw up."

The chieftain didn't respond to her comments. Jamie reluctantly handed the infant to his father. She noticed the man's hands shook when he took hold of his baby. "I have instructions to give you before you leave," she told him.

The old warrior didn't say a word for a long while. He squinted down at his son while he tried to regain his control. He couldn't show any joy now, for to do so would certainly soften his position in front of the Kincaids, yet it was a nearly impossible feat that made his eyes bulge. The bairn let out another lusty belch in the sudden stillness, then smiled sweetly over his feat, as if he knew of his father's struggles and was deliberately testing his endurance.

"He ain't dead."

"You'll scream him to death if you keep up your shouts," Jamie announced. "Now pray give me your attention, sir. You will tell your wife to feed your son only goat's milk."

"I will not."

Jamie reacted as though she'd just been hit by lightning. Before the laird could react, she snatched the baby out of his arms, settled him back against her bosom, and began to pace alongside the laird's horse. "Then you can just go home without your son, McPherson. I won't let you kill him with your ignorance. Come back when he's old enough to fend for himself."

The laird's beady eyes widened in astonishment. He glanced over to Gavin, then back to Lady Kincaid. "Give him to me."

"You'll give me your promise to feed him only goat's milk first."

"He'll be getting his mama's milk, woman."

"He doesn't like his mama's milk."

"Have you just insulted my wife?"

Jamie wished she had the strength to beat some sense into the old man. "I'm telling you what you have to do to keep this baby alive," she shouted. "He cannot stand another bout of sickness." She moved closer to the laird, until she was just an inch or so away from his knee, then said, "Promise me."

His abrupt nod pleased her. She handed the baby back to his father, then started toward Gavin and Marcus. "You're the most ungrateful man I've ever met," she muttered.

"Ungrateful?"

He was back to bellowing. Jamie whirled around, her hands on her hips, and gave the warrior a look meant to burn. "Aye, ungrateful," she shouted back. "You should be expressing your appreciation, McPherson, not shouting at me."

The laird's eyes turned to slits again. Jamie knew his pride was somehow injured, but she didn't have the faintest idea why. "I'll have your apology for taking my son out of my home," the man bellowed. "It's war we're speaking of if I don't get what I want."

"What you need is a good kick in your backside, you old goat," Jamie shouted back. "And that's what you're going to get if you don't show some respect around me."

"You took my bairn."

She couldn't believe the man's stupidity. His horse was just as obnoxious as his master was, too. As soon as the old man let up on the reins, the animal tried to take a bite out of Jamie's shoulder. McPherson didn't seem to want to control his mount any more than he did his temper.

"You'll apologize," he roared.

Jamie slapped his horse away before answering that challenge. "How dare you ask for my apology? I didn't take your son away and you know it. You can sit there until you rot, but you aren't getting an apology from me."

The baby started to wail, disrupting Jamie's concentration. "Oh, take your son home to his mama," she ordered. "And don't you dare come back on Kincaid land until you've learned some manners."

The chieftain looked as if he was itching to strike her. He deliberately let up on his reins, just to be contrary. The horse immediately tried to get a taste of Jamie's shoulder again. She hit the horse, harder.

McPherson let out a roar in reaction. "She hit me horse," he shouted. "You seen it, men. The Kincaid woman hit me horse. 'Tis one thing to insult a man's wife, but to strike his horse—"

"Oh, for God's sake," Jamie interrupted. "Leave now or I'll hit you."

When the soldier on the left of the laird reached for his sword, Jamie pulled her dagger from the sheath in her belt. She turned to the soldier, took aim, and said, "You'll take your hand away from your weapon or you'll find my dagger in your throat before you draw your next breath. And when I cause an injury," she challenged, "I don't repair it."

The soldier hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then did as she commanded. Jamie nodded. "Now get off my land," she ordered as she replaced her dagger.

She was suddenly exhausted. She hadn't lost her temper this thoroughly in a good long while. She was a little ashamed of her behavior, too, and was immensely thankful only Gavin and Marcus were there to witness her unleashed temper.

It was all McPherson's fault, of course. The man probably lived in a cave. He certainly had the manners of a wild animal. He could provoke a saint into screaming.

Retreat seemed the logical choice now. Jamie turned around, her intent to walk back inside the castle without sparing a single glance over her shoulder. She was going to dismiss the McPhersons as rudely as possible.

She came to a staggering halt when she saw the line of Kincaid soldiers behind her. All were armed and ready for battle. While Jamie noticed this fact quickly enough, that wasn't what really started her head to pounding. No, it was Alec Kincaid standing in the center of his soldiers who captured her full attention and gave her such a headache.

Well, hell, he'd probably seen the whole thing.

Jamie was mortified. She suddenly wished she could just turn around and walk back to England.

She really wasn't certain who was the bigger threat now. The look on Alec's face could scare the wool off sheep. Laird McPherson looked like a saint in comparison.

Alec's arms were folded across his chest. His legs were braced apart—a bad sign, that—and his expression was as rigid as the rest of him. It was the same position she'd seen the day the outcasts attacked. She'd thought he looked bored then.

She knew better now.

He was still the safer bet, she decided. If he was going to kill her, he'd probably do it in privacy, she supposed with a sinking flutter in her stomach. She wasn't important enough in his mind to make a scene over. Nay, he probably wouldn't get around to it until next week.

He didn't say a word to her when she walked over to his side. He simply pushed her behind his back and then took a step forward. The wall of men immediately surrounded her.

The shield of warriors blocked her view, even when she stood on tiptoe and tried to see over Marcus's shoulder.

Angry words flew like arrows between the two mighty chieftains. Jamie was stunned when she realized Alec was actually defending her. He'd taken deep offense over the fact that one of the McPhersons had dared to touch his sword in Lady Kincaid's presence. Oh, Alec was furious, all right. Bloody furious.

He had a blazing temper, and Jamie was racing through a prayer of thanksgiving to her Maker that it wasn't directed at her.

Then she heard the hateful word "war" bellowed again. McPherson called for a battle and Alec couldn't have been more emphatic in his agreement.

Good God, what had she done?

Alec was never going to believe this wasn't all her fault. If she'd held on to her temper, perhaps she could have averted this war.

The soldiers didn't move away from her until the McPhersons were well on their way down the path. Jamie decided it would be best for her to leave before her husband turned his attention to her. She certainly wasn't running away, she told herself. No, she just needed a little time to sort this confusing matter out. With any luck, it might only take her a day or two.

She turned her back on Marcus and started up the stairs. Just when she thought she'd escaped Alec's notice, he grabbed hold of her arm. He wasn't at all gentle when he forced her around to face him. Since Marcus and Gavin were watching, she decided to smile. Alec's scowl, however, changed her inclination.

"Would you care to explain?" he asked. His voice was as mild as a lion's yawn.

"Nay," Jamie answered. "I would rather not."

He didn't like her answer. The muscle in his jaw was at it again, flexing like an insistent tic. The grip on her arm intensified until the freckles turned pink.

She was determined to meet his glare so he would know she wasn't afraid of the mean look in his eyes, but she didn't even last through the first real blink.

"The babe was sick," she told him.

"And?"

"I took care of him."

"How did a McPherson bairn get here?"

"I was wondering that very thing," she said.

"Answer me."

He hadn't raised his voice, yet Jamie knew he was furious. She decided to appease him without actually giving him a direct answer. "Alec, I was simply trying to do the right thing. Even if I'd known that dear child belonged to such a sour old man, I still would have taken care of him. The babe was suffering so. Would you have me turn my back on him?"

"I would have you answer my question," he reminded her.

"You'll blame Mary."

"Mary was involved in this?" Alec demanded. He shook his head, then said, "I shouldn't be surprised."

"Mary brought the baby to me. McPherson's wife gave her son to Mary, begging for my help."

Alec finally let go of her arm. Jamie resisted the urge to rub the sting away. "Now you're bent on being angry with Mary for interfering, aren't you, Alec?"

He didn't bother to answer her. Gavin gave her a sympathetic look, then asked Alec, "Did Daniel know about this?"

"He couldn't have," Alec answered. "He was hunting with me. If he went directly home, he's probably finding out now. God willing, he'll keep her under lock and key."

"Mary has a good heart," Jamie interjected. "Surely Daniel won't be angry with her for helping a sick child."

"You may go back inside now," Alec announced, ignoring her defense of her sister.

His cold attitude upset her. God only knew she should be used to his contrary ways by now. He'd been away from home for four long days and nights, but she certainly hadn't missed him.

"I'm not ready to go back inside," Jamie returned, startling Gavin and Marcus. Alec didn't look surprised, though. He looked resigned. "I have a question to ask you first."

Alec let out a sigh of impatience. "Marcus, send some men to follow the McPhersons to the border," he ordered before giving Jamie his attention again. "Well? What is this question?"

"I was wondering if your hunt went well."

"It did."

"Then you found the men who hurt Angus?"

"Aye."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did you have to kill anyone?"

He thought that had to be the most ridiculous question ever put to him. She whispered it and then gave Gavin a worried glance. Alec didn't know what to make of his wife. She looked irritated with him. The woman was simply too illogical to bother with.

But very appealing. He'd only been away four short days and nights, but it seemed much, much longer to him now. That admission made his mood black. She was still dressed in her English garb—he'd noticed that sin right away—and he was beginning to realize she was just as stubborn as he was. Mayhap even more so. "Six, seven," he announced in a hard voice. "Would you like to know how I killed them?"

She took a step back, forgetting she was standing on the stairs. Alec grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling. "I assume, then, that you don't want to know?"

She shrugged his hands away. "No, I don't want to know how you killed them, you impossible man, but I do want the true number. Was it six or seven?"

"How in God's name would I know?" he asked, clearly exasperated. "I was in the thick of battle, Jamie. I didn't take time to count."

"Well, you should have," Jamie muttered. "In future, I would ask you do keep count. It's the least you could do."

"Why?"

"Because I only have eight shillings left, that's why."

He didn't know what she was talking about. That didn't surprise him, though; he never knew what she was talking about. The color had left her face, reminding him of how much she disliked battles. He guessed she didn't want him killing anyone. That was such an amusing thought that he couldn't help but smile. Hell, he'd probably killed twice that number. The fight had been fierce. He wasn't about to share that information with Jamie, though.

"You're smiling, Alec. Does that mean you were jesting with me?"

"I was," he lied, thinking to ease her frown away.

She gave him a look that suggested she didn't believe him. Then she picked up her skirts and hurried back inside.

"Alec," Gavin said, "what did she think would happen when you caught up with our enemies?"

"I haven't the faintest idea."

Gavin held his grin. "By the way," he said, turning the topic, "Franklin rode ahead to say the clan's on their way home from Gillebrid's holding. They should be here by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Some of Harold's clan is tagging along. They mean to pay their respects."