How to Handle a Highlander (Hot Highlanders) (4 page)

Even Sandra had known that.

***

No one seemed to want to deal with her. Moira reluctantly watched the man holding Athena take the bird off to the yard. She had to curtail the impulse to keep the hawk with her. Just because she longed for companionship didn’t mean she had the right to deprive Athena of supper.

But no one else came near her. Moira stood in the hallway. Through an arched doorway she could see the Great Hall filled with tables and benches. Women were busy setting out baskets of bread for the evening meal. They stole peeks at her, but no one invited her in. Since she was to wed the laird, she really didn’t need an invitation, but it felt wrong to enter where she had not been bidden.

She sighed and chastised herself. Her current lack of courage wouldn’t do. Respect was earned. At least true respect was, and she wasn’t interested in the false sort that she’d witnessed Sandra getting.

Moira shifted away from the great hall, walking slowly down the hallway to get a look at her new home. To begin with, she’d get a sense of where things were. The light was dim now and the shadows growing deeper. The lamps in the passageways were not yet lit, but the window shutters were still open to let the fresh air in.

“Inspecting yer new possession?”

She recognized Gahan’s voice instantly. It was slightly unnerving how swiftly she identified him.

“Yer sister would have found it beneath her,” he added.

Gahan parted from the shadow of a doorway. The hall was farther behind her than she’d realized; the setting of the supper table was now only a dim buzz. A strange twist of excitement went through her belly, startling her. But it also left a bitter taste in her mouth, because she realized she preferred Gahan to her groom.

It was knowledge she could have done well without.

“Nae that I’d expect any less of any woman wedding such an old man,” Gahan informed her.

His tone was condescending at best, and it irritated her. He was her better. The fine weave of his kilt and the silver buttons running up the sides of his knee-high boots showed off just how much his father gave him. She should have kept her mouth shut, but her pride flared up and she propped her hand onto her hip.

“And will yer father give ye any choice when he contracts a bride for ye?” she questioned boldly. “Or will ye turn yer nose up no matter who is depending upon ye to do yer duty? Like a spoiled child who knows naught of the way alliances keep a clan safe?”

His eyes narrowed. For a moment, it looked like he was considering what she said, almost as if she’d surprised him somehow.

“Nae if me duty includes making sure me kin can start a feud.”

“I have no such desire.” She shouldn’t snap at him but just couldn’t squelch the urge. “A contented man”—she had to stop to swallow the lump lodged in her throat—“is happy to stay at home.”

He studied her for a long moment, one that felt far longer than it really could have been. She felt like he was looking at her thoughts, his gaze cutting past her realistic reasons, to see her true feelings.

“So what is it that draws ye to a man old enough to be yer grandfather? The title? I suppose I can believe that. Yer sister was certainly enchanted by titles.”

“Half sister.” She paused, realizing that what Bari had so often used to insult her was something she prided herself on.

“And I’m bastard-born,” he replied softly. “Which changes nothing when it comes to me loyalties. Or, I doubt, yers.”

He was trying to intimidate her, but instead, his words somehow impressed her. There was something in his dark eyes that intrigued her, and she stared into the dark orbs, trying to decipher it.

He snorted at her. “Do nae try it.”

“Try what?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and she suddenly realized just how close he was. There was no more than a pace between them now, and she jumped back, colliding with the hard stone of the wall. His lips twitched.

“I admit, ye play the innocent better than Sandra ever did, but ye’ll nae find it simple to seduce me.”

She straightened up, stepping away from the wall as her temper simmered. “Ye have no right to accuse me of nae being innocent. Or of trying to act like a harlot. Ye were the one waiting in the shadows.”

His lips parted to flash his teeth at her. “I knew ye had claws. Ye are a Fraser after all.”

There was a ring of triumph in his tone, which irritated her beyond every bit of self-discipline she had.

“What I have is the sense to know when I’m hearing naught but drivel. Son of an earl or nae, ye do nae have the right to insult me for obeying me laird. I do nae need the Matheson thinking I turned up me nose at their laird. Marriage is for forming alliances. I’m nae so selfish as to think an insult to a laird, like refusing his offer, will nae become a festering point of contention.”

But her voice lowered as she finished, and she had to push the last sentence past her lips because she just didn’t want to believe she was one day away from having to wed Achaius Matheson.

“And I was nae trying to seduce ye,” she added.

His grin remained arrogant and large, but he opened his arms, offering her a view of just how wide his chest was. “Ye were looking into me eyes.”

“And ye were looking into mine,” she countered. He was suddenly too large and the hallway far too compact to suit her. “Enough arrogance. Perhaps ye are accustomed to only the sort of women who like to seduce, but I am nae of that sort. I’m set to wed, and I do nae think it wise to be standing here acting like—”

“Like lovers flirting in the night shadows?”

His voice dipped low and sent a tingle along her limbs. There was a gleam of mischief in his dark eyes.

She shook her head, her tongue feeling frozen with shock.

“Nay, we are nae acting like lovers, or are ye arguing that we are nae lovers—yet?” He pressed forward another few inches.

Something snapped inside her. She gasped and went to shove him away from her.

“Ye obnoxious lout!”

She flattened her hands against his chest, but he didn’t budge. She’d used a fair amount of strength, but Gahan Sutherland only chuckled at her attempt to move him.

“Ye have no right to accuse me of such indecent things. Maybe there are plenty who would remind me that ye’re me better and can say what ye will, but I will do me duty.”

He closed his hands around hers, but he didn’t remove them from his chest. Instead, he trapped her there with her hands upon him.

“What if I told ye I would nae be opposed to becoming yer lover? I promise ye will find me bed more to yer liking.”

Her mouth dropped open, and her temper exploded. She never really thought about what she was doing; her body simply refused to remain still. With a snarl, she sent her knee toward his unprotected groin. One moment he was chuckling at her, and the next, she felt her blow connecting. Pain flashed across his face as he whipped into action. She was free in a moment, but his hand rose into position to deliver a strike to her jaw.

“I’m looking into yer eyes sure enough, Gahan Sutherland…”

She realized she’d never really seen his emotions, because his face became a mask of fury now, yet it was mixed with self-loathing. He lowered his fist and sucked in a deep breath.

“I would nae have hit ye. Me hand went up out of reflex. Ye have to expect that when ye deliver such a low blow to a man.”

She believed him, which was foolish, because men didn’t suffer the sort of thing she’d done to him well. Especially one of noble blood like him. He might have her lashed, but even that knowledge didn’t keep her silent.

“Ye should expect such a reaction when ye pin innocents in dark hallways and try to blame them for yer own suspicious nature.”

His face tightened. “Yer sister almost killed me father. That is nae suspicion. It is proven.”

“Which is why ye should leave. Bari is nae content—”

She was saying too much, letting her thoughts spill past her lips without considering the consequences. She needed to prevent bloodshed, not give Gahan Sutherland solid reason to go looking for Bari’s blood. Even if she knew Bari deserved it.

“Is nae…what?”

Gahan’s voice was soft, but there was a flame flickering in his dark eyes that terrified her. She hadn’t been afraid of him until that moment, because she was certain she was looking at the rage churning inside him over almost losing his father. She felt his pain but was powerless to soothe it.

“I cannae help ye, no more than I can stop me own wedding.”

She was saying too much again, her deepest feelings pouring out because she was so frightened. “Ye should just…go.” Tears burned her eyes, and her voice was thick with them. “That’s all I can do for ye.”

Moira grabbed her skirts and ran. She heard him give chase behind her, but she made it to the arched doorway and inside the Great Hall before he caught her. Matheson retainers looked up, catching her in their sights. Gahan jerked back at the last moment, but she felt his dark stare on her.

She was trembling, her entire body shaking like it was bone-chilling cold.

Yet she was hot, and her cheeks burned with a blush.

“Moira, come here.” Bari was sitting at the high table, his expression stormy. She forced herself to walk down the aisle, fighting against the urge to run.

Where would she go? There was no sanctuary for her, and Gahan no doubt still lingered in the darkness. Bari tapped the top of the table impatiently. Moira squared her shoulders and moved toward the high table. Better to face what she must and be done with worrying about it.

“Ye’ll nae wed until tomorrow.” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward to get a closer look at her, his gaze lingering on her bright cheeks. “I expect ye more composed by then.”

Bari snapped his fingers at one of the maids. She hesitated before moving toward Moira.

“Come, miss.” She bit her lip. “Mistress.”

The girl sounded as unsure as Moira felt. At least there was someone she might feel something in common with.

Yet it was a beginning to her new future, and that pleased her. Moira followed the girl from the hall with a sense of renewed hope.

***

“The lass is quick,” Cam observed.

“I would nae have struck her,” Gahan said gruffly.

His half brother didn’t respond, but Gahan saw the reprimand in his expression. That was something his father had taught him to take notice of. Just because he was in command, it didn’t mean the men following his orders agreed with him. Scotland had a young king because his father had been too arrogant to notice that those around him were growing resentful of his personal excesses.

“I deserved it,” he admitted.

“Aye, ye did at that. Ye won’t be getting any argument from me.” Cam spoke softly to keep their words between them. “Are ye going to take her advice?”

“And leave?” Gahan shook his head. “Maybe Bari will make enough of a mistake and give me the opportunity to break his neck right here.”

“That would save a bit of trouble for the rest of us. But I think the earl is going to be displeased about ye looking to start a fight under a vassal laird’s roof.”

“Publicly, he will be.” Gahan flashed his sibling a grin. “But I am a bastard, after all.”

He was planning on using the stain of his birth to right the wrong Bari Fraser had done to his family. Some might accuse him of dishonorable conduct, but as far as he was concerned, poison was even lower.

And Moira Fraser knew the truth of the matter. She’d almost spilled the facts. His suspicions were confirmed. Bari had known full well what his sister was planning to do to Lytge, and it seemed that Moira knew too.

For some reason, that knowledge left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t have time to wonder why. She was kin to Sandra and Bari. No doubt she’d learned to use her blue eyes to beguile men the same way Sandra had. Her impending marriage was a fine example of using the union of matrimony for gain. He shouldn’t be surprised or even overly interested in the matter.

But the bitterness remained.

***

“The laird’s last wife used this chamber.”

The maid froze two steps into the room when she looked at the bed. A bundle of rosemary, withered and brown, still decorated the headboard. Someone had brought it to Matheson’s last wife in the hope it would cleanse the chamber and help her have a safe delivery. The dry leaves had fallen onto the pillow now, a blunt reminder of how dangerous childbirth was. No one had cleared it away, because no one wanted bad luck plaguing them.

“We should try another place.”

The girl made the sign of the cross over herself as she hurried from the room. Moira lingered, looking around the chamber for clues as to what her new life would be like. It was a modest room, the furniture sturdy but not lavish. A thick comforter was kicked to the foot of the bed, and there was a fireplace. A half-burned candle sat on the bedside table, and a long table had been pushed near the bed. Several pitchers and a large urn were abandoned there along with a stack of towels intended for the birth. Dust had settled over all of it.

“Come away, there are bad humors here. We should get a sin-eater to sleep here before anyone else enters the chamber and gets shackled with bad luck.”

“Why hasn’t the head of house already hired one?” Moira asked.

“We have no head of house,” she explained. “The laird will expect ye to manage the duties. The cook runs the kitchens well enough. Ye’ll be deciding who has a place.”

Because she would be the laird’s wife. It was slightly appealing until she recalled the way Gahan Sutherland had looked at her. Like a high-priced whore. She preferred to focus on the good her union might do for ensuring peace. But she’d have to try her hand at making Achaius think she liked his touch.

A shudder shook her, and she hurried after the maid.

The maid was leading her down a narrow passageway. The stones were older here, many of them pitted. There was only a single tin lantern to provide light. She pushed open a door and held it for Moira. The chamber was as dark as a cave. A little light spilled in from the hallway. Once Moira stepped over the threshold, the girl reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a flint stone. She struck it with a piece of iron until sparks flew onto the pile of tinder left on a small pewter plate. It flared up, and she held a candle over it until it lit. The golden glow spread out around the maid, and she carried it to another candle sitting on the far side of the chamber.