MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel (18 page)

Much to Colin’s frustration, Sutherland sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. “I remember this place very well,” he said with a slight smile. “Eleanor and I spent a stormy night trapped here.”

A glance at Maggie told Colin that she’d reverted to the lad from the English prison. She watched Sutherland with those dark, wary eyes, remaining perfectly still, as if she didn’t want to attract attention.

Sutherland didn’t seem to realize that he’d interrupted anything important—or he did and ignored it. “So tell me about the English prison,” he said to Colin.

“Nothing much to tell. It was hell. I escaped.”

“My friend, I never properly thanked ye for what ye did for me and Eleanor.”

Colin glanced at Maggie, who had turned her attention to him.

“Ye saved Eleanor that day,” Sutherland said.

“I doubt I saved Eleanor,” Colin said dismissively.

“If no’ for yer actions—”

“No need to say anything else.” Colin raised his brows and tilted his head slightly toward Maggie.

“So Campbell was able to break ye out without incident?” Sutherland said, apparently taking the hint.

Colin sighed, not wanting to discuss this, either, though it was better than the other subject. “Aye. But why Campbell?”

“Because he offered.”

Colin grunted. Maggie continued to watch silently. Colin knew what she was doing, trying to disappear so that no one remembered she was there, but Colin remembered. He remembered the feel of her beneath him. He remembered sliding inside of her. He remembered the way she cried out right before her completion and the way her body took him in.

Sutherland, however, seemed to have forgotten her. “Campbell said ye escaped with a lad. What happened to him?”

“Ye seem to have a powerful friendship with Campbell lately.”

Sutherland shrugged. “He’s no’ so bad.”

“He’s a traitor.”

“Maybe. But sometimes I wonder.”

“Do no’ fall into that trap,” Colin warned. “That’s exactly what he wants ye to think.”

“There are different sides to Campbell, and no one knows all of them.”

Colin barked out a laugh. “Ye believe he’s privately fighting for Scotland? Ye’re mad.”

Sutherland shrugged again and turned his attention to Maggie. Obviously, he had not forgotten she was there. “And how did ye meet this
jessie
?” Sutherland asked her.

Maggie’s dark gaze slid to Colin, then back to Sutherland. Colin could almost see her weighing her words, maybe trying to decide if she wanted to speak at all.

Finally, she said, “I’m the lad who escaped with him.”

Silence fell between them, and Colin leaned a shoulder against the wall to watch the fallout. Sutherland seemed to struggle with finding his words.

“The lad?” he finally asked.

Maggie half smiled, and it hit Colin again. It seemed to be happening like that. One would think it was strange that a man could forget he was married, but Colin would forget for a wee bit, and then it would strike him like the flat of a broadsword against his stomach.

He was married.

Hell and damnation.

“I sense a story here.” Sutherland stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his arms, settling in for a good yarn.

“Maybe another time,” Colin said.

“Are ye needed somewhere at the moment?” Sutherland raised his brows.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Maggie said. “I posed as a lad to fight at Culloden. I was taken prisoner and MacLean helped me escape.”

“And somehow ye ended up wed,” Sutherland said.

“Aye,” Maggie said.

A long moment of silence passed. “And?” Sutherland prompted.

“And we’re wed,” Colin said as he pushed away from the wall, putting an end to the conversation.

Sutherland looked between the two of them. “How long ago was that?”

“Two days. Maybe three by now,” Colin said.

Understanding dawned when Sutherland eyed the rumpled blankets on the floor. His cheeks turned an interesting shade of red. “Ah,” he said. “Maybe I should…” He waved toward the door and presumably the outdoors.

“Nae,” Maggie said, speaking up from the shadows. “Ye canno’ sleep out there in this rain.”

Colin agreed, but he was a bit disappointed. He and Maggie—his
wife
—had one night together. This was their honeymoon and wedding night all rolled into one, and they’d not even been given an entire night. He had no idea what the future held, where they would be one day from now, one week from now, and definitely one month from now.

Tonight was all they had to celebrate and consummate their marriage.

“We should get some sleep,” Colin said. “It’s been a long day and Maggie is hurt.”

To her surprise, Maggie slept fairly well. Colin’s poking and prodding at her muscles had done wonders, and while she was still stiff and sore, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been the day before.

The men stirred as daylight began to make an appearance.

“Ye’ll come to Castle Dornach,” Sutherland said as he helped put the place to rights. He was comfortable in this hut, Maggie observed. “Eleanor would be disappointed if she learned I’d spent the night with ye and I did no’ bring ye back.” He glanced at Maggie. “And she’ll be very upset if she discovers ye’re wed and ye did no’ bring Maggie to meet her.”

“By all means, then, we must please Eleanor,” Colin said with a bite to his words.

Before the sun was up, they were moving out. Maggie couldn’t help but take one last look at the hut that appeared so different on the outside than it did on the inside.

Making love to Colin had been…interesting. Fascinating. Nothing like she’d ever imagined. Not that she’d thought much about making love. At least not too much.

She’d never thought it would be like
that
. So…exciting and powerful. The things he had done to her both shocked and excited her. Afterward, her mind had been as jumbled as her body felt. And she had to admit that Sutherland’s appearance, while unexpected, was a relief, in a way. It gave her a chance to distance herself from what had happened on that bed of blankets and to allow her mind to settle so she could think about it without the aftereffects that seemed to consume her body.

But with the passage of time, she still wasn’t able to think clearly about their lovemaking. Every time she did, her body became uncomfortably hot and her mind conjured images of Colin rising above her with the firelight behind him and the feeling of him inside of her. She’d heard there was pain and possibly blood the first time, but there had been very little pain and no blood at all.

Was that strange? What did it mean that there’d been no blood? Should she worry?

The ride to Castle Dornach gave her far more time to think than she needed. So she was grateful when, late in the afternoon just as the sun was almost finished with its descent, the castle came into view.

It was a formidable structure, with a lot of activity that she could see even from atop the hill. It looked so much like the home she’d just left that her throat tightened and there was an unwelcome pressure behind her eyes. A wave of homesickness swept through her so powerfully that she had to bite back a sob. She missed Evan so much that it was a physical ache.

She blinked rapidly because she did
not
want these two men to see her tears. It took less than an hour for them to reach the gates of Castle Dornach, and before she knew it, they were riding under the portcullis. The guards nodded to Sutherland and Colin, their gazes brushing over her before moving on.

Inside the bailey, a man stepped forward, tall and dark and formidable-looking. He broke into a smile and slapped Colin on the back. “Good to see ye, mate.”

Colin nodded. “Good to be back,” he said.

There was a flurry of movement from the front doors, and a woman came running to throw herself into Colin’s arms. Maggie took a surprised step back and watched Colin sweep the woman up. Maggie felt an intense, unwelcome feeling in the pit of her stomach, an ugly twisting that caused her to look at the woman in an unfriendly way.

Sutherland, with a wide smile, tapped Colin on the back. “May I hug my wife?” he asked.

Sutherland’s wife.

Maggie looked away, feeling ashamed at her strong feeling of instant dislike based on just a hug.

The woman pulled away from Colin with a laugh and hugged her husband just as tightly, but she gave Sutherland a hard, quick kiss that had him raising his eyebrows. “I was only gone one night,” he said.

“I missed you for that one night.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. Sutherland’s wife was a damned
Englishwoman
. Maggie looked at Colin and then at Sutherland, shocked that they would so readily accept an Englishwoman into their midst.

And Sutherland had
married
her.

The English lady looked at Maggie with dancing blue eyes, and Maggie took a step back. She wanted nothing to do with anything English, Sutherland’s wife or not. But she also couldn’t help noticing that the lady was beyond beautiful.

Maggie had thought that Innis was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, but Innis didn’t hold a candle to this one. She was perfectly formed, with a tiny waist and a dainty neck. Her blond hair was combed back into a neat bun at the base of her neck, and her gown fell in crisp folds to the ground with nary a speck of dirt on it.

The woman raised a sculpted blond brow at Maggie. “And who is this?” she asked the men.

Maggie clenched her back teeth, not wanting this woman’s attention at all. She plucked at her filthy breeches and imagined she reeked. Unconsciously, she tugged on her short hair, as if pulling on it would make it grow long and beautiful and lustrous.

Not that she would
ever
want long and beautiful and lustrous hair. How would she fight with long hair? Good Lord, but she was thinking nonsense thoughts. She needed a good night’s sleep.

To Maggie’s horror, Colin stepped to the side to allow Sutherland’s woman a clear path to her. Like Innis, she seemed to glide. How did they
do
that?

“Eleanor, I’d like ye to meet my wife, Margaret MacLean.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow to Colin. “Your wife?” She turned to Maggie with a wide smile. “I will have this story.”

She grasped Maggie’s hands in hers, and it took everything inside of Maggie not to pull away. This Eleanor was certainly friendly and forward. It must be the way the English did things. She
was
English, and Maggie couldn’t forget that. “But I won’t demand your story tonight, madam. You look exhausted, and if I had to guess, you haven’t had a decent meal in days. Let’s get you inside and fed.”

Maggie did pull her hands away then. “I’ll see to the horses first.”

“Nonsense,” Sutherland injected, then called a lad over to take the horses and rub them down and give them oats. Maggie watched the beasts placidly walk away and wished she could follow.

“Come,” Colin said at her elbow. “Eleanor does no’ bite.”

The Sutherlands were walking ahead of them, their heads bent toward each other.

“She’s English,” Maggie hissed.

“Aye. By birth. But in her heart she’s Scottish.”

Maggie didn’t believe that. Once a traitorous English, always a traitorous English.

Maggie wasn’t surprised that the great hall was beautiful and clean and well organized. Apparently, Eleanor was not only stunning, she was an accomplished hostess as well.

Food was brought out, and Maggie and Colin were told to sit. Maggie was mortified that she was so filthy. At home, she never thought twice about sitting down to eat while wearing breeches, but here she looked around self-consciously. Either Eleanor didn’t mind or was choosing to ignore Maggie’s attire. She sat right down next to Maggie and made sure she ate every bite.

“Colin,” Eleanor said once they were finished. “I want to thank you for what you did for us that day.”

Colin’s gaze flickered to Maggie, then away. “It was nothing.”

Eleanor reached across the table and laid her hand over Colin’s, her look earnest. “It most definitely was not nothing. You risked your life—”

“I did no’ do anything Brice would no’ have done.” Again his gaze flickered to Maggie, then away. There was something he didn’t want her to know, and he didn’t want Eleanor or Brice to talk about it. There was so much about her husband that she didn’t know, and she was only now beginning to realize it. It made her uncomfortable that she’d given her life to this man and he had so many secrets.

Eleanor patted his hand and pulled away. “Well, I thank you anyway.” She turned to Maggie with another bright smile. “I know it’s terribly forward of me to ask, but what happened to your face, dear? It looks painful. I can have Cook mix up a salve.”

Maggie touched the bruise along her jaw. While her bumps and bruises were not as sore as they’d been the night before, she was beginning to stiffen up. “I battled a river,” she said.

“I’d hate to see what the river looks like,” Eleanor said.

“It was a nasty beast that swallowed me up and spat me back out. I must no’ have tasted good.”

Eleanor laughed, a light sound that made Maggie want to smile, though she dared not. Eleanor was English, after all.

Eleanor stood and motioned for a serving girl to come forward. “Please prepare a bath for Madam MacLean. I’m sure she’s sore and needs to wash the day’s journey from her.” She turned to Maggie. “Do you have bags that need to be brought up?”

“Just the bags that were tied to the horses. I’m afraid we had to leave Sinclair land rather quickly,” Colin said.

Maggie wondered if Colin would admit to Eleanor and Brice that they were being pursued by the English.

“Very well,” Eleanor said, as if it weren’t at all odd that they had arrived with not much more than the clothes on their back. “I will show you to your room.”

Maggie shot Colin a worried glance, not at all liking that they were to be separated. They hadn’t been parted from each other since they were wed.

“Ye look less than happy,” Sutherland said to Colin once Maggie and Eleanor were out of the room. A lad brought them a mug of ale, and Colin took a long draft.

“Does marriage no’ appeal to ye?” Sutherland tried to hide the amusement in his tone, but Colin heard it and wasn’t pleased at all.

“Marriage appeals well enough.”

“Give it time. It’s only been…how many days?”

“Three days,” Colin muttered before taking another gulp.

Sutherland raised a brow. “Three? No wonder ye look like a lost pup and keep glancing up the steps.” He laughed, but Colin didn’t join in.

He wasn’t mooning over his bride. He was more worried what Maggie would do; it was clear she didn’t trust Eleanor after discovering that she was English. But it wasn’t even that. Maggie knew that Colin trusted Sutherland and therefore trusted Eleanor, and she would do her best to hold her tongue and hopefully her sword arm. He couldn’t quite put a name to what he was feeling.

Unworthy.

That wasn’t unusual. He’d felt unworthy his entire life and, felt more so recently, since he’d become clan leader. Maggie was just another thing he was ill prepared for and unworthy of.

Maybe that was where these tumultuous feelings came from. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with her, this wife of his. He knew what he was expected to do, and that was to provide her a home and protection and babes to take care of.

He drank more ale and watched the lad refill his mug. After a bit Eleanor came down the steps without Maggie.

“She’s delightful,” Eleanor said as she sat next to her husband and leaned over to peck his cheek. Colin watched in fascination. He’d been around for most of Eleanor and Brice’s courting—although “courting” was not the correct word for all of the danger and turmoil that had surrounded the beginning of their relationship.

“Where did you find such a wonderful woman?” Eleanor asked.

“In prison.” Colin drank his ale straight down, not caring that he was becoming well into his cups. For one night he wanted to forget. For one night he wanted to be irresponsible, just like his family always said he was. For one night he didn’t want the nagging thought that he needed to return to MacLean land and take over the duties of the MacLean chieftainship and provide a home for his MacLean bride.

He wanted to get pissing drunk and damn it, he was going to do it.

He ignored Eleanor’s shocked silence and Sutherland’s choke of laughter.

“Prison?” she asked. “I think I need to hear this story.”

“She was my cellmate. I helped her escape. With Campbell’s help, of course.” He shot Sutherland a scathing glance. “Explain to me true now why the hell ye sent Campbell, of all people.”

Sutherland shook his head and pushed his mug back and forth between his hands.

Eleanor tipped her head to study Colin more closely. “Well, she’s bathing right now, and I’m sure you’ll want to go to her shortly. She said you’ve only been wed a few days.”

“I’ll stay down here,” he mumbled. “Give her a good night’s sleep. She almost died, ye know. The river swept her away. Right before my eyes. Married no’ even a full day and I almost killed my wife.”

In the back of his mind, he thought that maybe he was saying too much. It was probably best that he shut his mouth and continue to drink.

Brice and Eleanor were watching him with equal expressions of pity and intrigue.

“What?” he muttered as he waved the lad forward to fill his mug again.

“You’re not going to her tonight?” Eleanor asked.

“It’s best no’ to.”

Eleanor stood and looked down on him. “Best for whom? You or her?”

She walked away and Colin knew she was angry but couldn’t figure out why. He was doing Maggie a favor by staying away. If he went to her, he’d want to make love to her, and if he made love to her, then he might get her with child, and he definitely did not need a child right now.

At least that was what he told himself. They were valid reasons.

They
were
.

After Maggie bathed and soaked away the soreness, she wrapped herself in an overly large blanket and sat by the fire, letting the warmth soothe her tired bones. She’d never been so weary in her life. Even the blood flowing through her veins felt thick and sluggish. Apart from being in prison, the past days had been the most trying she’d ever encountered. Both physically and mentally.

It felt good to sit in front of the fire and just be, waiting for her husband to come to her.

She felt a ripple of something in her stomach at the thought of making love again. It was a little bit of anxiety and a little bit of anticipation.

She yawned and pulled her chilled feet beneath her, covering them with the excess blanket. She felt her hair and found that it was already dry and probably curling madly about her head. She thought of Eleanor’s sleek blond hair that cooperated so wonderfully to stay in its bun. What would her own hair do if it were longer? She remembered it being far too curly for her liking; that was one of the reasons she’d cut it. It would never be sleek, and it would never stay put in a bun or any other hairstyle.

She touched the shorn ends thoughtfully. Would Colin prefer her hair longer? Would he prefer her to be more feminine? Both Eleanor and Innis were the picture of femininity. Maggie had always assumed that being a woman—being a
lady
—meant that she had to succumb to the wishes of a man and do what a man said. But Innis and Eleanor weren’t like that. Especially Eleanor. She had a commanding presence that was close to her husband’s, if not equal. And Innis had a way of wrapping Evan around her fingers until he was happy to do her bidding.

Was Maggie’s idea of womanhood so far off that she’d fooled herself? Or were Eleanor and Innis the exceptions? She’d not had a woman in her life to know the answers. She’d loved her life but was beginning to wonder if she’d missed out on something vital that all girls needed in order to become women.

She yawned and was surprised to see that the candles had almost burned out. Colin was surely taking his time.

Unfolding herself from the chair, she stretched, the blanket falling to the floor, and looked down at her body, grimacing. She was bony and flat where she should have been curved. Her bosom was small. She was not built like Innis and Eleanor. Did that concern Colin? Would he prefer not only a more womanly wife but also a curvier one? One with more fat upon her?

What was wrong with her? Why was she suddenly comparing herself to Eleanor and Innis, two women she’d sworn she would never be like?

She snatched up the blanket and stomped toward the bed, where she flipped back the sheets and then hesitated. Quickly, she wrapped the blanket around her and opened the door a crack to peer out. She heard raucous laughter come from the great hall. Male laughter.

She closed the door and stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, then turned around and dressed in clean breeches and a clean shirt.

Do no’ do this!

Ignoring the voice inside her head, she left the bedchamber. The great hall was filled with mainly men and a few women on the opposite side, but no trace of Eleanor. Colin and Sutherland were at their own table, deep in discussion, drinking from large tankards. It appeared that this wasn’t Colin’s first, nor his second. Probably not even his third.

A group of young men sat a few tables away, talking and laughing quietly. They were older than lads but not quite accepted by the seasoned warriors yet. She headed toward them, anger propelling her. This probably wasn’t the most prudent action, but it was her third night of marriage, and she was damned if Colin was going to set a routine such as this. It was her marriage as well, and she should have some say in how it was going to play out.

Someone handed her a tankard of ale, and she nodded her thanks before taking a large swallow. The young men were speaking of Culloden, and she listened to their stories, mentally reliving her own memories but keeping silent so as not to draw attention to herself.

The later it became, the more the stories took on the form of tall tales, and soon they were all laughing. This was where she was most comfortable, in the obscurity of a group of braggarts. Here was where she felt at home, not in the world that the Innises and Eleanors occupied but this place, where the ale ran freely and the stories were rampant.

“What about ye?” one of them asked, turning his bright alcohol-filled gaze on her. “Did ye fight at Culloden?”

The rest of them turned their avid attention to her. “Aye,” she said quietly.

The man peered at her with narrowed eyes, his expression questioning. “Aren’ ye…”

“Aye,” she said. She’d never been one to hide who she was, except in an English prison. Her brother’s men had accepted her. She’d received some vulgar remarks and a few lads and men who pushed too far, until they discovered she was talented enough with a sword and a dagger to shut their mouths.

The speaker let out a loud guffaw. Out of the corner of her eye, where she’d been unwillingly watching Colin get drunker and drunker, she saw him and Sutherland turn their heads toward them.

“Ye lie,” her accuser said. “Ye’re a woman. Women do no’ fight in battle.”

“This one does,” she said with enough conviction that it shut the lad up.

“Who’d ye fight with?” He chuckled and looked around at his peers only to find that they were looking at her in interest and he wasn’t the center of attention.

“The Sinclairs.”

“I do no’ believe ye.” He slammed his mug of ale on the scarred wooden table for emphasis.

Maggie shrugged. “I do no’ much care what ye believe.”

The other lads laughed softly, maybe a wee bit nervously. Her accuser’s face darkened, and Maggie watched him closely. By now the little scene had caught the full attention of Colin and Sutherland; the younger men didn’t seem to notice the older men watching them.

“Surely, then, ye have a story to add to ours.”

“Enough, Douglas,” one of the lads murmured.

“Nae. I do no’ believe that a woman would willingly fight in a war. And I do no’ believe her.” He tipped his chin toward her, as if commanding her to speak.

She raised her gaze to his, and for a moment the entire great hall was silent. It seemed everyone was holding his breath, waiting for her reply.