The Highlander Series (12 page)

“Are you quite finished?” he demanded.

She took a step back, the initial rush of her fury subsiding. Now that she’d vented her rage, the reality of what she’d done slapped her full in the face.

He advanced, giving her no opportunity to put any distance between them.

“Don’t you ever,
ever
question my honor. If you were a man, you’d already be dead. As it is, if you ever speak to me as you’ve done just now, I can guarantee you that you will not like the consequences. You are on my lands, and my word here is the law. You are under my protection. You will obey me without question.”

“Not bloody likely,” she muttered.

“
What?
What did you say?” He roared the question at her.

She glanced serenely up at him, a bland smile on her face. “Nothing, Laird. Nothing at all.”

His gaze narrowed and she could see his hands twitching again like he’d love nothing more than to throttle her. She was beginning to think it was an affliction of his. Did he go around wanting to choke the life out of everyone or was she special in that regard?

“I’m afraid ’tis an urge that is entirely original to you,” the laird barked.

She clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes. Mother Serenity had vowed one day Mairin would regret her propensity to blurt out her least little thought. Today just might be that day.

By now the scowls of his men had been replaced with looks of open amusement. She didn’t appreciate being
the source of that amusement so she gave them a scowl of her own. It only served to make them twitch more as they battled their mirth.

“I will say this but once,” the laird said in a menacing voice. “I have spoken of our prospective marriage to no one save the men I sent to escort Father McElroy back to my lands and those I charged with your protection. I would give the priest a reason for ushering him here with such haste. You, however, have now broadcast our impending nuptials to my entire clan.”

She glanced uneasily around to see that quite a crowd had gathered. They stared upon her and the laird with undisguised interest. Indeed, they were hanging on every word.

She pinched her lips into a bow and stared unflinchingly up at the laird, who was still bristling with outrage.

“Then how does your son know? And why do I have an escort who informs me his duty is to see to the mistress of the keep?”

“Are you accusing me of speaking an untruth?”

His voice was deathly quiet, so low that no one save her could hear, but the tone sent a surge of fear straight to her toes.

“Nay,” she said hastily. “I would merely like to know how so many people know of a marriage that may or may not take place if you’ve told no one.”

His eyes narrowed. “First, the marriage
will
take place. Just as soon as you’ve regained your senses and realize that ’tis the only sensible option left to you.”

When she would have opened her mouth to dispute his assertion, he shocked her by clamping his hand over her mouth.

“You will be silent and allow me to finish. I have doubts that you’ve ever been able to hold your silence for more than a moment in your entire lifetime,” he grumbled.

She huffed but his hand tightened on her mouth.

“I can only assume that my son overheard me speaking to my men of our marriage. If you would have but cautioned him to hold his tongue, he would not have repeated it beyond his question to you. But now, you’ve announced our marriage to the entire clan. Some might even consider it a proposal. In which case, I accept.”

He finished with a grin and then stepped back, releasing his hold on her mouth.

“Why … you …,” she sputtered. She worked her mouth up and down but nothing would come out.

A cheer went up from the crowd assembled.

“A wedding!”

Congratulations were shouted. Swords were raised. Men beat on the backs of their shields with the hilts of their swords. Mairin winced from the noise level and stared helplessly up at the laird. He stared back, arms crossed over his chest, a satisfied smile carving his too-handsome face.

“I did not ask you to marry me!”

He was undaunted by her vehemence. “ ’Tis customary to seal a betrothal with a kiss.”

Before she could tell him what she thought of that daft idea, he hauled her against him. She hit his chest and would have bounced off if he hadn’t held her firmly in place.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded in a husky voice that sounded oddly tender given his degree of anger.

Her lips parted and he slid his tongue sensuously over hers. Her senses scattered in the wind. For a moment she quite forgot everything but the fact that he was kissing her and he had his tongue inside her mouth. Again.

And he’d just announced to his clan that they were marrying. Or maybe she had. Realizing that the longer he kissed her in front of God and everyone, the harder a time she’d have denying his claim, she gave him a mighty
shove and nearly fell on her behind. To her mortification, Gannon caught her and held her up while she swiped at her mouth with the back of her arm.

Oh, but the laird looked smug now. He had a satisfied grin on his face as he watched her and waited.

“Kiss? I won’t kiss you. I want to hit you!”

She spun around and fled. The laird’s laughter followed her the entire way.

“Too late, lass! I already kissed you.”

Back in her chamber, which she should have never left, Mairin resumed her pacing in front of the window. The man was impossible. He would drive her daft inside a day. He was controlling, overbearing. Arrogant. Handsome. And he kissed like a dream.

She groaned and smacked a hand to her forehead. He didn’t kiss like a dream. He did it all wrong anyway. She was quite certain Mother Serenity had never said anything about tongues when kissing. Mother Serenity had been quite descriptive in her talks with Mairin. She hadn’t wanted her to go ignorant to her marriage bed, and above all things, Mairin would one day marry.

But tongues? Nay, Mother Serenity had nothing to say on the matter of tongues. Mairin would have remembered such a thing, surely.

Mairin had assumed that the first time the laird had kissed her it was an aberration. A mistake. After all, her mouth had been open. It stood to chance his tongue might slip inside if he, too, had his mouth open.

She frowned at the thought. Could Mother Serenity have been mistaken? Surely not. She was knowledgeable about all things. Mairin trusted her implicitly.

But the second time? It was no coincidence, because this time he’d commanded her to open her mouth, and like a simpleton, she’d gaped her mouth open and let him slide his tongue over hers.

Just the memory had her shivering. It was …

It was undignified. That’s what it was. And she’d tell him so if he ever tried to do it again.

Feeling marginally better now that she had that matter squared away, she turned her thoughts to the pressing issue of marriage. Hers.

It was true that the laird filled a lot of the criteria that she and Mother Serenity had come up with. He was undoubtedly strong. He seemed awfully possessive of those he considered under his protection. It was true he had a large army. One had only to look at the numbers in the courtyard and how hard they trained.

The marriage would be equally, if not more, beneficial to him. Aye, she’d have his protection, and he had the might to defend a holding such as Neamh Álainn, but he gained wealth and land that was rivaled only by that of the king.

Did she trust him to hold such power?

She hadn’t meant to impugn his honor. She’d been angry, but she didn’t really believe that he was a dishonorable man. If she did, she’d be trying a lot harder to escape. Nay, she was giving serious consideration to his proposal. Or her proposal. Or whoever had issued it.

She hadn’t come into contact with many men in her lifetime. Only at an early age before she’d been taken to the abbey in the middle of the night and sequestered there for many years. But she remembered the fear and the absolute knowledge that her life would be immeasurably changed if she fell into the wrong hands.

She didn’t feel that fear with Ewan McCabe. Oh, she feared him, but she didn’t fear mistreatment from him. He’d had ample opportunity—and desire—to strangle her, and yet he’d held his temper each time. Even when he wasn’t convinced of her role in his son’s abduction and rescue, he hadn’t made a single move to harm her.

She was fast coming to the conclusion that he was all bluster.

The thought made her smile. The McCabe men did like to frown. But Alaric had stood with her even after muttering blasphemies against her and all women. Caelen … well, so far they had a mutual agreement to avoid each other. Now
he
frightened her. He didn’t much like her, and he didn’t care if she realized that or not.

Was she insane for considering marriage to the laird?

She stood by the window and watched as shadows darkened the rolling hills that surrounded the keep. In the distance, dogs barked as they brought in the sheep. The purple hue of dusk had settled over the land. Low to the ground, light fog rose, covering the hills like a mother tucking in her child for the night.

This would be her life. Her husband. Her keep. Her clan. No longer would she fear that at any moment she’d be found and forced to marry a brute of a man who cared naught for anything but the riches she’d bring with the birth of an heir.

She would have a life, one she’d nearly given up hope of ever having, and she’d have a family. Crispen. The laird. His brothers. His clan.

Oh, but the longing was fierce inside her.

She turned her eyes heavenward and whispered a fervent prayer. “Please, God. Let this be the right decision.”

The lass was submerged in a full tub of water, head thrown back, eyes closed, and an expression of sheer bliss curved the contours of her face.

Ewan watched from the door, silent so he didn’t disturb her. He should make his presence known. But he didn’t. He was enjoying the unimpeded view far too much.

Her hair was pinned atop her head, but loose tendrils drifted down the slim column of her neck, clinging damply to her skin. His gaze drifted along the lines of those strands. He was particularly fascinated by the ones that rested on the curves of her breasts.

Bonny breasts she had. As bonny as the rest of her. She was all soft curves and lines, pleasing to the eye. She shifted, and for a moment he thought he was caught, but she never opened her eyes. She arched just enough that the pink tips of her nipples lifted through the water.

His mouth went dry. His cock went rigid and strained against his trews. He curled and uncurled his fingers, unsettled by the fierce reaction she stirred within him.

He was hard and aching. Want was fierce within him. There was nothing to prevent him from charging across the room, yanking her from the tub and laying her on the bed. She was his to take. From the moment she’d set
foot on his lands, she was his. Whether she married him or not.

Still, the perverse part of his nature wanted her to come to him. He wanted her to accept her fate and bind herself to him of her own accord. Aye, the taking was far more satisfying when the lass was willing. Not that he couldn’t have her willing in a matter of seconds …

A frightened gasp echoed across the room. He frowned as he stared into her open eyes. He didn’t want the lass afraid of him.

She didn’t stay afraid for long.

Sparking with outrage, she bolted to her feet. Water sloshed over the side of the wooden tub and sluiced down her body, accentuating each of those delectable curves he had just been admiring.

“How dare you!”

She stood, trembling in the water, not a stitch of clothing to obstruct a complete view of her body. Ah, she was a delectable sight, spitting fury, her breasts thrust proudly out. Dark curls nestled at the apex of her legs, guarding the sweet mysteries that lay beneath.

And then, as if realizing she’d given him a lot more to look at by bolting to her feet, she let out a squeak and promptly dropped back into the tub. Both arms covered her chest and she hunched forward, hiding as much of herself as possible.

“Get out!” she roared.

He blinked in surprise and then grinned his appreciation of her bellow. She might be a slip of a thing, and she looked deceptively harmless, but she was a force to be reckoned with. Just ask his men, who were all understandably wary around her now.

She ordered Gannon, Diormid, and Cormac around relentlessly. At the end of the day he was treated to a list of complaints about their duties to guard—and placate—their mistress. Cormac had the idea that she should take
over the training of their troops. Ewan thought she had a vicious streak and that she was merely retaliating over the fact that they’d been given the task of looking after her.

She was not above ordering around those who stumbled into her path either. And if questioned, she merely gave everyone that sweet, innocent smile and told them that according to their laird, she would soon be the mistress of the keep. Accordingly, it was their duty to take their instructions from her.