Torrian (The Highland Clan Book 2) (5 page)

She turned to him, a perplexed expression on her face. “For what?”

“For giving me a reason to rush home. We may leave on the morrow.”

“I’ll pray for a safe journey for you and your clan.”

He opened the door and she rushed inside. Rather than follow her into the great hall, Torrian remained in the courtyard and made his way out to the portcullis, wanting to catch one last look at their castle bathed in the torches of the evening. Once there, he leaned against the curtain wall and glanced up at the keep. His ancestors had built a mighty fortress for them, and he was proud to be a part of Clan Ramsay, and even prouder he would be its leader someday. Those many days he’d spent sick and unmoving on his pallet, he’d dreamed of the day he would work by his sire’s side to lead Clan Ramsay into greatness in the land of the Scots. The day was here, and he would make his sire proud of him—his ancestors, too.

A sweet voice cut through the night. “Torrian?”

Lily. His golden-haired sister, usually so full of life and laughter, ran toward him and threw herself into his arms. “Torrian, what will I do without you? Please do not leave. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“My sweet Lily.” He kissed her forehead and set her away from him. “Lily, I must leave, but I shall return, you can count on that. I must do what our king has asked, but I only promised to meet her, not marry her.”

She clutched both of his hands in hers. “You must find someone here, Torrian. If you do not, then while you’re gone, I’ll find her for you. Then the elders will not argue.” She dropped her voice to a whisper after scoping the area for any who might overhear them. “Torrian, is there not someone here who interests you? If you start courting someone before you leave, I believe Papa will be more reasonable. You know he’d prefer us to be with someone in the clan than to go outside, even if ‘tis for someone of noble blood. You must find someone before you go.”

“As it happens, there is someone who interests me, but ‘tis difficult to court someone in one or two days. Please have faith in your brother, lass. You’ll be fine without me for a sennight or two. Lairds must leave to go to court sometimes.”

He could see the hope bloom in her gaze at his declaration. “Who is it? Heather? It must be Heather. I thought it the moment I saw her. The verra moment I saw her on the horse with you, I thought there was something there. ‘Tis perfect. I like her. Even though we have not officially met, I hear wonderful things about her.”

“I’m glad you do, though I’m not sure Da would be pleased to see me interested in someone without a clan.”

“Papa will not care. Uncle Logan and Aunt Gwyneth adopted Molly and Megan, and Brenna is our adoptive mother. He’ll just want you happy.”

“I hope you’re right. We’ll see when we get to Perthshire. I believe we will leave on the morrow.”

“Do not trust this woman. They say she is spoiled and manipulative. She’s to be like a sister to me, and the thought of such a person being the mistress of the castle frightens me. Please be wary and alert. Promise me, Torrian. Promise me you will not fall in love while you’re away.”

“I cannot promise that, Lily. But I can promise you I shall return.”

“Mayhap I should go with you.”

“Nay, you should not. Focus instead on finding a lad for yourself. You cannot do everything for me.”

“What are you talking about? I do not try to do everything for you.” She slapped his arm playfully to make her point.

“So, you do not recall all the times you would hide your precious stones when we were small? You would ask me to find them, but you would always find them on your own.”

“Nay, I did no such thing. Why, ‘tis silly, what you suggest.” She gave him her shoulder to show him the seriousness of her denial.

Torrian couldn’t help but grin. Och, he remembered it well, but she had been very young at the time, so perhaps she did not. “Aye, you did. Though I think you knew, in some small way, that I would not be able to find the stones because I wasn’t strong enough to walk on my own. I did not have Growley yet. Either way, you would hide them for me, then find them for me. You’ve never stopped.”

“Fine, then. I will not help you again.”

Her pursed lips told him he’d hurt her pride, and he did not want to leave her on such terms. He adored his sister.

Torrian headed back toward the keep, dragging Lily behind him. “You can help me whenever you want, sister, but you cannot help me find a lass to marry. ‘Tis something I’ll do on my own.”

She slapped his arm again. “Torrian, stop being so crude.”

“I’m being crude? You suggested it,” he drawled.

“I’ll leave you to find your own wife, but if you do not find one within a moon, I’ll start searching.” With that statement, she huffed and yanked her hand free from him so she could flounce back to the keep.

“Am I not your favorite brother?” Lily spun around to cast one last glare at him. He hated to admit it, but Lily was right. He had to find someone, and soon, particularly if he did not want his marriage arranged for him.

Could Heather be the one?

Chapter Five

Heather awoke just before the sun was up, roused by all the commotion outside their window. Nellie had improved, but she wasn’t back to her usual self yet. She crept over to the window and pulled back the furs.

Numerous lads ran about in the courtyard, shouting back and forth about the preparations for the journey to the Buchans’ land. Their voices carried both excitement and trepidation. She identified with the latter—her belly rumbled with the fear that Torrian might leave and never return.

A soft rap sounded at the door. Since Nellie was still asleep, Heather hurried to the door and opened it a crack to peer out. She was surprised to see Torrian standing there holding one of the pups.

“Forgive me for bothering you, but may I come in?”

Heather nodded and pulled her threadbare night rail tighter around her, wondering what she looked like so early in the morn. Fortunately, she had only lit one small tallow in the room.

Torrian entered and closed the door behind him. As soon as he came into the chamber, Nellie sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Mama? What is he holding?” Her gaze had settled on the wee pup in the crook of Torrian’s elbow.

Torrian whispered, “While I’m gone, I thought Bretta could help Nellie through her sickness, and Nellie could keep Bretta warm. Is this agreeable to you?”

Heather’s heart melted again. “Aye, I think ‘tis a lovely idea, but why do you not ask Nellie yourself?”

Nellie’s eyes lit up with excitement as Torrian approached her with the pup. “Nellie, this is Bretta. She’s a wee Deerhound puppy, and I need someone to help keep her warm while I’m gone. Would you like to help her and feed her for a few days?”

Heather was delighted by her daughter’s reaction. Nellie clapped her hands and held them out to Torrian. He sat on the edge of the bed and showed her how to hold her arms, then settled Bretta in her lap. The pup glanced between Torrian and Nellie, dancing around a little.

“Here, you can pet her head or her back. And when she gets really tired, she loves to have her belly rubbed.”

Oh, how dear of him to do this for Nellie. Heather felt her heart swell as she watched Nellie pet Bretta’s head. The pup reached up and licked the wee lassie’s hand, making her squeal and burst into giggles.

“May I, Mama?” Nellie asked, looking up at Heather with wide eyes full of hope. “May I help him keep her warm?”

Heather, with a lump in her throat, just nodded and whispered to Torrian, “My thanks.”

“If she becomes too much for you, just find Lily and she’ll help.” Turning back to Nellie, Torrian said, “Your mama will return in a moment, lass. Bretta will keep you company.” Relief swept over Heather—she had hoped they’d have the opportunity to say a private farewell. She offered her hand to him, and he tugged her out of the chamber and led her to an alcove down the passageway. Once they were hidden, he cupped her face and kissed her hard on the lips, angling his mouth over hers, sweeping his tongue inside her parted lips. He nibbled on her lower lip, then ran his hands down either side of her body, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples until they were taut, threatening to bust out of her night rail.

His hands roamed even further until they cupped her bottom, lifting her off the floor. The hard length of him was pressed against her belly and he groaned, his hands caressing her soft skin through the thin material, setting a fire in her. As he lowered her back to her feet, a small moan escaped her lips. She tingled in places she’d hardly ever felt before, and she clutched his plaid, not wanting to let go.

“Lass,” he whispered. “I just wanted to let you know that I will miss you. I hope you know how much.”

Heather stuttered, “You’re leaving now?”

“Aye, but I look forward to getting to know you better upon my return.” He kissed her again, a soft, sensual assault that left her breathless. The man knew how to kiss, how to touch, and what to say. “You are beautiful, Heather Preston, and I would love naught more than to kiss every inch of you.”

Her legs threatened to buckle, but he caught her and led her back to her chamber. “I only wish I dared to have you escort me out, but ‘tis probably not something my clan is ready for yet.”

Heather’s eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently.

“What is it?”

“Nay, I could not.”

“What?”

“Go down with you. The crowd, I could not handle it. I have a fear of large gatherings.”

“Well,” he said gently, “we have something to work on then. I’ll help you to manage that fear. I felt the same way after I became healthy again. I was not used to being around more than one or two people at once. It does take time, but I believe I can help you.”

Heather sighed. Could the man be more perfect?

Once he was gone, her eyes misted with tears. He would not be perfect if he came back betrothed to Davina of Buchan. Her entire world teetered on the edge of something she did not like.

How she hoped it would tip in the right direction.

***

Two days later, the line of Ramsay guards finally drew near the Buchan castle. The castle had a dark air about it, even in daylight. The Buchans and two of their neighbors, the Russells and the MacNivens, oft joined together to threaten other clans. Up until now, they had rarely done more than steal sheep or battle over the land, but Torrian’s father and uncle both expected more unrest would be forthcoming. Torrian’s aunts and uncles, Drew and Avelina Menzie, and Michael and Diana of Drummond, were not far. Menzie held borders with the MacNivens, and the Drummonds shared a border with the Buchans.

Just as Aunt Avelina had predicted long ago, the Highlands had been mostly peaceful for a decade, with an occasional skirmish or two, but that would always be the case. Now, though, something was brewing—even Torrian could feel it. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the experience to interpret his gut or follow it.

Five guards led the way down the valley toward the castle, his sire and Uncle Logan followed, then Brenna riding between Quade and Logan. Torrian came up behind them, Kyle at his side, with another fifty guards in the rear. He and Kyle had carried on many discussions along the way, but always careful about who was listening.

Gwyneth had stayed behind to protect the castle. There were no direct threats, so Torrian’s sire had not been concerned about any attacks. He had another hundred and fifty guards at the Ramsay castle, and they would protect his clan if need be.

Torrian noticed plenty of guards set at various distances, even some archers, which didn’t bode well, but his sire did not seem to be concerned. This was a friendly visit, by order of the King of the Scots, so any threats visited upon them would be akin to threats against the Scottish crown. He prayed his feelings were unfounded, and yet the premonition would not leave him.

As they drew closer to the gates, a line of horses moved out to greet them.

Torrian rode up to his sire’s side. He’d do everything possible to make his sire proud, his goal since he’d been abed with his illness. Yet the turmoil in his belly belied his outer countenance. He feared he would not get along with Davina, and that he would therefore disappoint both his father and his king.

This day could be one of the most important days in his life, the kind of event that determined his future, his happiness, even his direction. Not realizing he was holding his breath, he let it out slowly when their horses were almost nose to nose with the Buchan horses.

“Greetings. We welcome you to Buchan Castle.” The man in the center, who also appeared to be the eldest of the group, was the one who addressed them. “I am Glenn, chieftain of the Buchans.” He nodded to the rest of the group before continuing. “To my right is my eldest son, Dugald, and to my left is a neighbor, Ranulf, chieftain of the MacNivens. My daughter Davina rides behind me. Hugh, my second, rides next to Dugald. My youngest son, Cormag, rides next to him.”

Torrian arranged himself so he could see past the Buchan to Davina behind him. Dark-haired and beautiful, she sat tall, her shoulders back and a beautiful smile directed at different men in their line.

Quade responded with a nod. “I am Quade, chieftain of Clan Ramsay. My son Torrian is to my right, my wife Brenna is to my left, my brother, Logan Ramsay, rides next to my wife. My second Seamus is far left, my son’s second, Kyle, is far right.”

There was a slight, nearly imperceptible twitch of the Buchan’s eyebrow. “Your wife rides
next
to you?”

Quade squared his shoulders and sat taller on his horse. “Aye, as she always does unless we are under attack. I need not concern myself with such during a visit for the king, do I?”

The chief of Clan Buchan chuckled. “Of course not. You are our esteemed guests, as it should be. Allow me to lead the way.”

The chief turned his horse around so quickly he unsettled a couple of the beasts near him, but they calmed as the group headed toward the castle. Torrian caught Davina glancing over her shoulder at him, giving him a coy look and a smile before she lowered her eyelashes and followed her sire.

Torrian had to admit his uncle was correct about one thing. Davina was a beauty. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from this distance, but her hair was almost dark enough to be black, something he’d rarely seen before except on his Uncle Alex, though he noticed the Buchan brothers had the same coloring.

He immediately thought of the blonde locks in total disarray around Heather’s face, somehow more entrancing because they weren’t all tidied up. He chastised himself for the thought; he needed to give Davina a fair chance. He owed as much to his sire and his king. While he had every intention of returning to Heather, he knew the importance of treating Davina with respect and acting as though he was a willing participant. He and Kyle had discussed that Torrian needed sound reasons for rejecting the betrothal or relations could turn to violence with a clan like the Buchans.

He vowed to draw out as much information as possible, learning all he could about the Buchans and the MacNivens.

The Buchan castle was well-made, surrounded by a strong curtain wall.

Once they had dismounted and were headed toward the keep, Logan said, “Such a fine curtain wall I have not seen. ‘Tis new?”

“The old wall was crumbling, so our chief replaced it,” Buchan’s second, Hugh, replied. “We have added two towers with more chambers.”

“Surely not as fine as the Ramsay Castle or the Grant keep we’ve heard so much about.” Glenn turned to gauge their reaction to his comment.

Quade was quick to reply, “We’ve added to our keep, as well. The clan continues to grow. However, we cannot compare to the Grant estate. ‘Tis my name for the creation built by Alexander Grant for his sisters, brothers, and their bairns. He wishes for them all to stay nearby.”

Logan smiled sweetly. “I do not think I’ve seen any castle finer than the Grant’s. Poor choice of words. The royal castle is certainly finer, but no other castle boasts the number of warriors in the Grant lists. Aye, ‘tis an impenetrable fortress high in the mountains.”

Torrian knew Logan’s goal was to make sure the Buchan understood who they would be up against if they decided to cause any trouble with the Ramsays. Once inside, they settled at the dais as the chieftain directed his staff to bring food and ale out for the guests. Torrian was assigned a seat between Davina and MacNiven.

The Buchan great hall lacked a woman’s touch. The rushes on the floor needed changing and the trestle tables could have been cleaned better. He thanked his stepmother for the cleanliness in their keep, something she’d learned from her mother. The walls were covered with various weapons of all shapes and sizes. While not unusual, rarely did weapons cover all four walls, and Torrian assumed it was meant as an intimidation tactic.

It did not work on the Ramsays.

The Buchans continued their quest to wheedle more information from them in a manner meant to be non-threatening. Still, the aggressive undertone to the conversation was unmistakable. “I hear Alexander Grant is getting on in age,” said Dugald, Davina’s older brother. “Mayhap he was the finest swordsman at one time, but he must not be any longer.”

Logan quirked his brow at Dugald. “Have you not heard of Grant’s nephew, Loki? I watched him drive his sword through two attackers at Cliffnock not long ago. And anyone would be a fool to doubt Alex Grant. I just watched him toss someone only a bit smaller than him through the air as if the lad weighed the same as a feather. Only a fool would go against him, unless his numbers were stacked.”

Torrian stifled a grin at his uncle’s colorful language.

Glenn of Buchan raised his goblet. “Here’s to a fine visit, and to young lovers.” He pointed toward his daughter and Torrian. Everyone lifted their goblets in a toast, though Torrian could not put much spirit behind it.

Davina leaned toward him, exposing a bit of her breasts. “Are you not in favor of this marriage, my lord?”

Torrian gave her a surprised look. “I’m for certes not against it, but we’ve only just met, my lady.”

“Aye, but since most marriages are arranged, we shall suit as well as anyone. I look forward to our union.” She cast him a glance that was anything but shy.