Winning the Highlander's Heart (32 page)

Dougald’s lips remained sealed in a thin gloomy line.

“Ye said, as I recall, that you sensed the man behind ye.  You did not hear him, did not see him, only felt he was there with a claymore raised to split your skull in two.”

“’Tis no’ the same,” Dougald insisted.

“’Tis the same.  What about the time James knew Angus was tupping a chambermaid?  None of us heard a thing in the stables that morn, yet James somehow knew.”

Dougald smiled, then quickly wiped the smile from his face.

“And Angus, too.  He warned that our da intended to betroth me to two lasses at the same time.  We looked for our da in every tavern we could think of that he oft frequented to put an end to his madness.  No’ knowing which ladies he meant to wed me to, we had nay way of knowing where he might have gone.  Yet, by that next afternoon, all hell broke loose when the word spread I was to marry two women who thought I was the next MacNeill chief.  Angus had never overhead our da speak of the matter, so how did he know?  We never did figure out how.”

Dougald blew out his breath.  “I concede ye have a point, Malcolm.  So, does she foresee something is the matter up ahead?  I have seen the way she is, frightened, uneasy, and your furtive glances at her, just as concerned.  What does she see?”

“Trouble.  She cannot tell what it is, only that it exists.”  Malcolm didn’t dare mention the king wanted his head, too.  His brother would insist he not consummate the marriage, but Malcolm had every intention of doing so.  If Henry wasn’t happy about the marriage, he’d have it quickly annulled.  But if Malcolm bedded Anice, Henry might have a change of heart.

“Where is the lass?” Angus asked, joining them.

Malcolm glanced back at the woods.  Anice never took this much time to take care of personal business.  He turned around and headed in the direction she had taken, his hands clammy, gripping his sword, his heart thundering against his ribs.

“Anice?” he called out, his brothers stalking beside him, fanning out to help locate her.

*  *  *

Anice removed her wimple and veil and washed her face in the cold stream, but a red deer bolted across the water, promptly startling her, and she slipped into the frothing stream with a squeal.  ‘Twas annoying to let the deer scare her so, yet her blood chilled even more when she felt someone watching her, than from the wet gowns that now clung to her skin, or from struggling to regain her footing.

Chill bumps covered every inch of skin.  ‘Twas not easy, as slippery as the moss-covered rocks were, to climb out of the swiftly moving water.  Grasping for the multi-trunk rowan trees lining the banks, all she could grab were handfuls of red berries.  Her fingers were becoming numb while she fought being pulled downstream.

Even over the muffled roar of the water, she heard men crashing through the underbrush to reach her.  With all her heart, she hoped to see Malcolm and his brothers.  ‘Twas not to be.  The four men wore short cut hair and English clothes.  She didn’t recognize any of them, though instantly she worried they were some of Edgar Atheling’s men.

“Mistress, reach out your hand,” one of the black bearded men said, stepping into the swift current.  Immediately, he slipped on the rocks, landed on his butt in the rush of water, and swore out loud.

The others laughed.  One of these tried to get to her, this one slighter of build, his hair also dark.  This time, the man managed to grasp her hand, and pulled her toward the bank, while the other two stood waiting to grab her if need be.

‘Twas more than embarrassing, but what’s more, she didn’t trust their leering gazes as they took in her appearance, her hair dripping wet to her knees, her gowns plastered tightly against her skin.

“You will need to remove your clothes before you catch a death, mistress,” the man said, still gripping her arm.  The others chuckled.

“Thank ye, gentleman,” she said, trying to sound confident and unafraid, yet the tremble in her voice both from the chill and the panic she felt betrayed her.

“Thank ye for taking care of the lady,” Malcolm said, rushing forth with his brothers.

The man who held her arm, tightened his hold, while the others rushed in front of her, unsheathing their swords.

“She is with us,” Dougald said, readying his sword.  “The lady is my brother’s wife.”

The man’s grip on her arm lessened for a moment, but when she tried to pull away, he tightened his hold again.  “So say you.”

She wondered then whether these men intended to kill Malcolm and his brothers and keep her for sport.

“Are ye from around here?” Malcolm asked, glancing at Anice to see her response.

She quickly shook her head.

The black bearded man, as wet as she, gave a wicked smile.  “We are from here.  But you are not.”

“I am the steward of Brecken.”  Malcolm’s brows rose, challenging the man.

The men’s faces fell.  Which meant what?  Anice’s mind was failing her, mayhap because of the cold.  She truly couldn’t understand what their responses meant.

“Release my wife,” Malcolm said, his eyes as black as the deepest loch, his sword readied to run every last man through, his voice commanding, brooking no argument.

“What say you, Thomas?” one of the men said to the black bearded man.

“The steward of Brecken is gone and another takes his place,” the man responded, his black beady eyes so small Anice didn’t think they could narrow any further, but her heart nearly stopped when the man announced someone else had taken her steward’s place without her permission.

“Aye, in the interim, mayhap, but he doesna have the king’s blessing,” Malcolm replied, taking a step forward.

The men kept their eyes focused on the threat, but Thomas shifted nervously.  “Which king, pray tell?”

Were they Robert Curthose’s men then?  If Malcolm said he was under King Henry’s orders, would the men attempt to slay them?

“King Alexander,” Anice quickly said, though she wasn’t sure why.  If all went as planned, her cousin intended to marry Henry’s illegitimate daughter, so he would not be backing Robert’s rebellion either.

“And King Henry’s orders,” Malcolm said, his tone menacing.

The man holding her backed away, while the others lunged forth and attacked.  She struggled to get away from the one, but no matter how much she kicked, yanked, and pulled, she could not break loose.  Swords clanged against swords, men’s words shouted in anger, the MacNeill brothers in Gaelic, the others in English.  Then in surprise, the man who held her grunted and fell backwards, pulling her down on top of him.

“Run, milady,” Kemp shouted, slamming a tree branch against the brigand’s head.  Somehow, the lad had managed to trip the man and sent him sprawling.

With another bash of the sturdy limb against the man’s skull, Kemp’s actions caused the man to release Anice, yet she could not run away.  Only when Malcolm and his brothers had dispensed of the brigands, did she feel somewhat relieved.

“Anice,” Malcolm said, resheathing his sword, then rushed to grab her up in his arms.  Quickly, he stalked back through the woods to their campfire in the clearing.  “Ye are shivering overmuch, lass.”

“We have nay farmhouse this time, Malcolm,” she said in warning.

“We are wed this time, lass.  ‘Tis no’ the same as before.”

She groaned.  “What about your brothers?  And Kemp?”

“If they were wed to ye, they would give nay thought about it and do the same as I will with ye.”

That sent another trickle of shivers through her.

“I will only warm, ye lass, naught more.  Ye will catch your death this verra eve if I do not warm you.”

“But the others, we have nay shelter for me to remove my clothes.”

“They will busy themselves in burying the dead men first, lass.  They will give us our much needed privacy.”

Malcolm hurriedly helped her strip out of her clothes beside the flickering flames of the campfire, then once he’d covered her in his wool blanket, he pulled off his clothes, dampened by her own.  Was it the cold that made his manhood stand out like a thick lance readied for the joust, or his touching her that made him so ready to have her?

He smiled when he caught her looking at his magnificent body.  ‘Twas oft said women’s bodies were uncommonly beautiful, but gazing at his, she could see at least as far as he looked, some men were exceedingly beautiful, too.

“We should no’ be together like this, Malcolm, unless we intend to consummate the marriage.”

“I await only your word, Anice, to make it so.”

He climbed under the blanket and settled on top of her.  She stilled his hands on her cheeks as an image came to her, horrifyingly clear.  ‘Twas Henry’s physician who examined her to see if her maidenhead was still intact or not.  If not, then what?  She couldn’t see any more than that.  Would the king forgive them, or have Malcolm executed for it?  If not, she still feared Henry would annul the marriage if they had not consummated it, and he would marry her to someone of his own choosing.

She stared into Malcolm’s eyes, full of longing and lust.  “What about the curse?”

His mouth curved up.

She frowned.  “’Tis not amusing.”

“Mayhap if I make love to you, the curse will be broken.”

“You said that about the kiss.”

“I wish to give Henry no reason to annul our marriage.”  Malcolm kissed her forehead.

She combed her fingers through his long hair.  “I love my people.  If Henry does not approve of our marriage, he could take Brecken from me.”

Malcolm said nothing in response, just touched her face with a gentle stroke.

“You wanted land and property.  If you remained married to me, and King Henry took these away from me, you would lose the chance to have a wife who owned thus.”

“Aye.”

Aye?  ‘Twas all he could say?  Aye?  “If…if we do not consummate the marriage, King Henry will have his physicians examine me.  When they discover you have not bedded me, he will have my marriage annulled and marry me off to someone else.”

He sighed deeply and kissed her cheek.  “We do not know this for certain.”

“Aye, I do.”

His gaze met hers.  “Because ye know him so well?”

Not wanting to tell him how she knew, she said instead, “Malcolm, we have a choice— consummate the marriage and hope Henry will be reasonable, or if he takes away my lands, we will have to move elsewhere and may end up owning naught but the clothes on our backs.  Or he may want you dead, in which case we will have to leave our home anyway.”

“I love you, Anice, and dinna want to give you up for any man.  Ye only have to say the word, and I will love you like a man does his wife.”

 She wasn’t sure whether it was the notion Malcolm truly was her husband and she wanted him to make love to her despite where they were at present, or if her mind was so cold and numbed she wasn’t thinking properly, or the threat of what she knew King Henry would have his physician do to her once he arrived at Brecken spurred her on, but in that instant, she made the decision, rash though it was.  She wrapped her arms around Malcolm’s neck and in the most unthinkably brazen way, shifted underneath him until she’d spread her legs for him.  Without being able to stop himself, he fell between her legs, his heated body pressed against her mound, sending an instant pang of need through her.  At first, he seemed surprised, his brows arched in question, his mouth slightly parted, but when she lifted her pelvis slightly, encouraging him to take her, he didn’t hesitate to respond.