The Highlander's Bride Trouble (17 page)

“I do nae wish to discuss this.”

She bumped into the closed doors, and he flattened his hands on either side of her
flushed face.

“No?”

“No.” Her voice was only a squeak.

“Good.” He nodded. “I prefer action meself.”

He leaned forward, and she covered his mouth with her hand. It was a desperate move
to keep him from kissing her.

She’d lose her senses if he did.

“I’m trying to make ye see reason, Saer.”

He lifted his chin, dislodging her hand. “So am I, lass. Life is hard enough without
it being lonely. Fate can be very fickle when it comes to bestowing the sort of heat
that is between us. I have no intention of letting ye turn yer back on me before we’ve
given each other a fair chance.”

His tone was gentle, but determination glittered in his eyes. He lifted one hand,
granting her an escape route. Once she’d bolted out of the embrace, he took up a solid
stance in front of the chamber doors.

“Welcome to me new tower, Nareen. I hope ye find it pleasing.”

A change in topic was welcome—a relief really. But that shamed her because she was
being a coward again.

She looked at him and he raised an eyebrow. “If ye do nae want to wash…”

“With ye here?”

He shrugged and opened the doublet he’d worn since they’d left Ross land. It was leather,
lined with sturdy wool. It closed with a leather cord laced through worked eyelets.
Practical, not fancy. He obviously invested all of his coin in the castle.

“I never believed the rumors about how grand Daphne’s dowry was, but it must have
been for ye to afford this much construction.”

He finished unlacing the jerkin and laid it aside. “Me father had me trained and educated.
I made sure to put those skills to use.”

“But this…” She turned around and was struck dumb.

The chamber was open to the night. She should have realized it. She could feel the
night breeze and smell the ripening barley in the fields. The air lacked the stale
scent that was common in towers. It was something everyone bore because of the need
for study walls to protect them from raiders.

But Saer’s chambers had only arched doorways along the far side of the chamber. She
moved past the large hearth to stand in one, and looked out. There was a portion of
flooring that extended past the arches for another twenty feet until a half wall rose
up around it all. Columns were placed at the same intervals as the arches to support
a roof. She realized the flooring covered a chamber below them. Logic dictated that
there should have been walls all around the area, because towers rose up in columns,
but not Saer’s tower. She turned to find him trailing her, patiently waiting for her
to inspect his chambers.

“What is it?” she asked in awe.

“The Italians call them
terrazzino
.” Saer moved out into the evening air. He tipped his head back and inhaled. “I call
it a very necessary part of me personal chambers. It keeps me in the castle at night,
which I’m sure you’ll agree is me place, since I am laird.”

He opened his eyes and looked toward her. “There is naught I detest more than being
shut inside a chamber at night. In Italy, the weather is warmer, so they do nae wall
off all the chambers.”

“Ye’ve been to Italy?” she asked incredulously.

Saer shook his head. “I’ve met men who have and seen the sketches they made of the
homes there. While strong, they also offer the inhabitants fresh air.”

She had to admit the chamber smelled far more inviting than she would have thought
possible.

“What of the rain or snow?”

He smiled and pointed at something sitting outside the main chamber. “Here, lass,
there are doors to shut the snow out, but the roof will keep it from the main chamber
unless it is blowing.”

He pulled a door from the outside that covered half the arched doorway space. He reached
out again and pulled the other side into position before lowering a solid latch.

“It’s remarkable, but what if there is an attack?” She ran a hand over the wood door.
It was solid and thick.

“This will keep out even crossbow arrows. The
terrazzino
faces the inner yard. If both curtain walls are breached, there is no reason to worry
about the lack of stone here. The castle will have fallen.”

He surveyed the door before opening it again. “But do nae worry, lass. I’m nae going
to allow the MacLeod to suffer being raided again.”

Nareen walked out onto the
terrazzino
, enjoying the fresh air. “It is hard to believe yer sister had a dowry large enough
to allow ye the coin for so many stonemasons.”

The workers covered the walls, and the lower yard was full. Everyone was working at
a steady pace. Saer joined her.

“I offered them a place where each man would be judged on his work, nae the actions
of his father.” Saer braced his hands on the half wall and leaned out to get a better
view of the workers toiling on the half-completed inner curtain wall. “The isles are
full of bastard-born men who are told they are less than other men because of the
stigma of their birth. That will no’ be the way it is here.”

“Ye are paying them in respect.” Something many of those men could never hope to gain
anywhere else. The Church preached that a child was stained with the sins of its parents.
Being bastard-born held merits only if the sire was a nobleman. Like Saer.

“More than that. I’m offering them a clan,” he informed her with the unmistakable
ring of pride in his tone. “Any man who labors here for five full seasons will be
allowed to call himself a MacLeod and wear his colors proudly.”

She marveled at his plan. Below, hundreds of men and women were working. Only the
king would have had enough coin to pay them all, but Saer had found another way. Much
like the Church did. The Church demanded labor in exchange for blessings, and Saer
had discovered a means of offering something the men below them could find nowhere
else. As the light began to fade, they started to make their way down from their work
places to long tables set up for their supper.

“There are so many, the Hall cannae accommodate them,” he added. “But once the stonework
is done, they will set to work on their own homes.”

“Ye are an amazement, Saer MacLeod,” she whispered as she watched the men make their
way to long troughs full of water. They washed and even dunked their heads before
sitting down at the tables. Women were already serving the evening meal, the scent
drifting up. “Ye invite the shunned and are rebuilding yer clan with men who have
nowhere else to go. Yer neighbors had best take care, for the MacLeod numbers will
be something to be reckoned with.”

“More important, men who have nowhere else to go will defend what they have like no
other men on earth.” He pointed past the half-finished inner wall. “Out there is where
me retainers are being trained. They are the half-grown sons of these men and women.”

“Ye offer sword training?” Her eyes widened.

“Do nae be alarmed, Nareen,” he soothed. “I have known most of those men for years.
I would never train men whose honor was in question.” He pointed at the tables below
them. “But these stonemasons will wed, and their sons will be born MacLeods.”

She’d be a fool not to be impressed. Nowhere else in the Highlands was there a place
for the unwanted. Saer was rebuilding his clan far faster than anyone would have thought
possible.

But the kindness of it threatened to send tears down her cheeks. “Ye are a good man.”

He turned to look at her, but she wasn’t sure she could stand letting him see how
his actions affected her. Men often said many things but still did exactly as they
pleased.

But when she turned, she stopped, because there was something else on the
terrazzino
she’d never seen before.

“Ah yes, ye’ve yet to see where ye may wash the dust from yer skin.”

Saer passed her by and walked to the far end of the
terrazzino
. The hearth was set into the far wall of the chamber, and there was a four-foot section
of wall before the first arch opening. There was another smaller section of wall,
just two feet high, and above it was a chain with slim buckets attached at regular
intervals.

“This, Nareen, is how we get the loch water to the
terrazzino
.” He stripped off his clothing and grinned when she looked away.

But when she heard a splash, she just couldn’t keep her eyes averted.

The man was magnificent. Her mouth went dry, and she couldn’t help but feast on the
sight of his bare body. Every inch was hard and pleasing. She felt the urge to strip
and forget every reason she had for arguing against what he wanted. It would be a
blatant lie to claim part of her wasn’t very interested in belonging to him.

But once she surrendered, there would be no dictating to him what she wanted. Muffled
conversation drifted up from the yard, reminding her of how kind he was, but her memory
was quick to offer up the demands he’d already revealed.

The man was building a strong clan, and it would be her duty to provide sons. Quickly.
No matter how kind he was, he was still ruthless when it came to what he wanted from
life. Those laboring below would not be getting a warm welcome into the MacLeod clan
without hard work. Nothing in life was free. And certainly not when it came from a
man like Saer MacLeod. He was laird and would no doubt use his savage nature to defend
his position.

Only a fool would forget it.

He shook the water from his eyes.

Saer turned a handle that moved a gear above his head. Its teeth caught in the links
of the chain. She moved closer to get a better view of the complexity of the design.
The buckets rose from the loch below, all the way up three stories to the edge of
the
terrazzino
. A wheel above his head moved the chain over a large, flat stone, dumping the water
over it. The edge of the stone was worked with a lip that had indentations in it.
The water split into a hundred little streams that flowed down over Saer.

She moved closer, amazed. The floor beneath Saer’s feet was slanted slightly, and
there was a stone missing in the outer half wall that let the used water flow right
down the side of the tower and back onto the shore of the loch.

“Amazing,” she whispered in awe. “Whoever thought of such a thing?”

“The Romans had heated water,” he answered as he turned the gear some more, rinsing
himself again. He’d lathered up with a chunk of soap and now cleaned it off his skin.
“At Hayden’s wall, there are ruins of bathhouses. But I’ve yet to find someone with
the courage to try building one.”

“This is a marvel in itself.”

She might be clean whenever she wished. The hearth was only a few steps away to warm
her, even in the dead of winter.

Saer finished and dried himself on a length of linen hanging from a nearby hook. “As
ye see, lass, I’ve made sure to be able to keep ye well.”

“Keeping me here is…” She fought to keep her tone even, because the moment she gave
into passion, he’d be happy to take advantage of it.

She caught sight of the bed and noted the size of it. Fit for a laird, it had bed
curtains and plump pillows.

“Is what?” he demanded.

“Well, it’s nae courting,” she finished, too agitated for her comfort. Her gaze slipped
to the bed again.

It was so close. And likely more comfortable than a tree.

“I see.” Saer moved around until he was looking at the bed too. “So I’ve made an error.”

“Aye.” She turned her back on the bed.

“In that case, I should amend me ways immediately.”

Disappointment stabbed at her, but she nodded. “Ye should.”

His eyes flickered with wicked intent. “I’ll change me wording. This is nae a courtship,
but a claiming, which means it’s time for me to get to ravishing ye.”

“Saer,” she sputtered and jumped away from him. The only problem was, she was moving
toward his bed. And he was still completely bare. The cold water hadn’t affected his
cock at all—it stood rigid, promising her all the passion he’d already shown her and
more, now that they were in private.

He arched an eyebrow. “Does that mean ye prefer courting, sweet Nareen? I’m a bit
confused. Perhaps ye could clarify which method ye would like.”

“For what?” she questioned.

He took one slow, long step toward her.

She wanted to stand her ground, but she could feel the passion radiating off him.
It was kindling the coals of her own desire, and she knew it would flare up with just
one kiss.

“Courtship or claiming?” He took another step. “Name yer desire.”

“With ye, there is no difference.”

His expression hardened with determination. “There is, lass.”

He reached out and grasped a handful of her skirt to hold her. His teasing demeanor
evaporated, leaving nothing but hard purpose.

“Ye can enjoy washing the road dust from yer skin, and I promise to awaken yer desire
with soft touches as I did the first night I touched ye…”

She licked her lower lip. His gaze narrowed, a muscle beginning to tick along his
jaw.

“Or I will strip ye down and ravish ye as any claiming should be done.”

She shuddered, frustrated almost beyond being able to speak. But Saer pressed a single
fingertip against her lips to still her retort.

“Mind ye, I still think we’ll end in me bed, because ye have a passionate spirit I
have no intention of ignoring.”

She shook her head to dislodge his hand.

“Make yer choice, lass, but if ye decide to challenge me with an argument, I do nae
promise ye’ll have anything to wear by dawn.”

He released her skirt and reached down for a dagger resting on the trestle table set
for supper. The last of the sunlight glinted off its sharp edge.

“Savage,” she muttered, but shook her head, because she knew he enjoyed the label,
and she wasn’t sure if she intended to admonish him or praise him. “And do nae ye
dare grin at me for calling ye that.” She moved toward the
terrazzino
.