It sounded simple but he was suspicious. Dunmore Leask shrugged in the face of Hayden’s stony silence.
“Unless, of course, ye prefer to sit here listening to your other guests tell ye how many sons their fathers sired. I suppose that is one way to select a bride. I agree that it would make the wedding day quite an exciting moment, while ye wait to see what lies hidden beneath her face veil.”
Hayden scowled at his companion in response. Dunmore chuckled and took another long drink from his tankard.
Hayden felt the rise of something inside his chest that he had to think long and hard on to identify. It swelled up and began to boil, sending raw need coursing through him. It had been so long since the idea of bedding any woman excited him that he sat in stunned silence, just enjoying the burn while his cock stiffened behind his kilt. The Leask lass was a far cry from the noble-blooded mares his other guests were offering. The clan was small but they had courage, and that snared his interest.
Proud? He could admire that in a lass, maybe even be attracted to it. He wanted to meet her, meet the sister to see if she had the same fire the brother did.
“Ye’re right about one thing, Dunmore Leask, yer idea is better than sitting through any more of these suppers. I will meet yer sister.”
“Ye are worse than a peddler of French boy sluts, Dunmore! A horrible excuse for a brother.”
Elspeth turned in a swirl of her wool skirts, her eyes bright with temper. She should have been born with red hair, not the blond locks covering her head. At least men knew not to toy with a redhead. Her blond hair invited moments like these from her brother. He thought her meek and mild like the color of her hair.
“And ye know what a French boy slut is used for, Sister, so do nae pretend ye are so delicate and unable to stomach this conversation.”
Elspeth propped her hands on her hips.
“I am nae a slut, Dunmore. My body is pure.”
Dunmore lifted one finger and pointed at her. “Which is why ye are worth something more than our money will get for ye. We are talking about Laird Monroe. A man of his wealth and importance will nae have what any other man has tasted. He can demand a noble-blooded bride.”
She tossed her head again, lifting her chin in defiance.
“Let him. I have not ignored passion’s call so that ye can decide who shall pay my whore price. The man wants to come and dally on the green grass of spring before collecting his dowry fortune that comes with a blue-blooded wife. He’ll use me to prove his seed is good and then toss some words of how much he values ye out before riding back to his castle.”
Dunmore cast a quick glance behind them to make sure her voice wasn’t drawing curious eyes. That only made her madder. He closed the distance between them and hooked her arm with one hand. She was slender, but not petite by any means. Elspeth dug her heels in, refusing to be moved so simply. Her brother would know that she meant it when she said no.
“He had two children with his last wife, so his seed is nae doubted. Don’t be hating the man for something he is nae intent on doing. I am talking about getting ye a husband far above any that ye might have aspired to with the meager dowry yer clan can afford.”
“No man comes to see a lass like me without thinking he’s going to be getting all of me. Our clan is nae powerful enough to make him worry about offending us if he leaves me with his bastard.”
Dunmore let her go, his face full of frustration. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what shall ye have, Brother? Naught but another mouth to fill.”
“Ye are nothing like the other girls he has wed. Their noble blood was thin, but yers is strong, Elspeth, and no Leask woman is considered stained for bringing a new life into this world. If ye have a child, it will be a member of this clan. Conceived during a handfasting.”
Elspeth felt her eyes go wide. “That is an old custom and ye know the church frowns on it. We’ll both end in the stocks if Father Simon Peter hears even one word about handfasting. Even England is once more a Catholic nation with Mary Tudor sitting on the throne. Keep talking about handfasting and even being laird will not save ye from being shamed by the church for it.”
“Handfasting is a Scottish custom and one that has been honored by our ancestors.” Her brother’s face clouded with pride. “We’re Scots, not English, and handfasting is Scottish. It does not diminish our faith. The church makes changes to suit its needs, like saying that nuns and priests can’t marry, in order to keep all their land and money. But there was a time that they did wed and they were still devoted to God. Chastity is about keeping money in hand, and I propose a handfasting between you and Monroe to gain ye a better husband than I can get ye with coin alone.”
Elspeth began to pace. She’d always known the day would come when her brother returned from some clan with an offer of marriage for her. She snorted. At least she had assumed it would be marriage. She had spent her time dreading that she might wed an old man when she should have been fretting over being offered up like a tart just because the man was laird of one of the most powerful clans in Scotland.
But Hayden Monroe was powerful, so much so she felt her throat tightening as if there were a noose around it. There would be plenty of her own kin who would eagerly dress her up in the finest dress she owned and present her to him. Never mind that her honor would be forfeit. Even if her brother spoke the truth about the changes in the church, it did not change the times they were living in. She’d be judged by the priest sitting up at the church in his dark robes.
“I’ve not remained pure to whore it away, Dunmore. ’Twas something I was saving for the man who would respect me for it.”
Dunmore lowered his voice. “Monroe does value yer purity. The man has his pick of all the daughters in Scotland, and he is riding here to meet ye.”
“Because ye promised him that I would spread my thighs for him.”
Dunmore frowned at her but Elspeth glared back at him.
“What I promised him was that ye are no meek lass, and ye are not, Elspeth. Ye have steel in yer spine and courage the same as any Leask man. But if ye want the greatest reward, ye shall have to be willing to earn it.”
“I never thought to marry above where I was born.” She didn’t care for how meek her words sounded. The church would approve but her pride didn’t.
“Fine, Elspeth, if ye have outgrown yer boldness, so be it. Simply tell the man to go back to his land. That ye will not have him. I’ll find ye someone else to wed.”
“That would be rude since ye have invited him here.”
She closed her lips because her brother shrugged in response to her argument. Men. They were so foreign to women. She often wondered just what God had been thinking to create it so that they needed each other to produce children.
“Remember, Elspeth, William Wallace didna do what those that came before him did. He employed new ideas and strategies and defeated the English because of his modern thinking.”
“We are not talking about battle here, Brother. Besides, I wouldn’t be the first woman to ripen with a bastard and be denied a wedding. What of my child? It is not an easy thing to be called bastard.”
“Monroe will wed the mother of his child. The man is still wearing a beard in mourning for his family.”
That shocked her. Since the man had invited his neighbors over to negotiate for a bride, she would have expected him to shave and move on.
What sort of a man longed for a woman and daughter that fate had stolen from him? A son she might understand, but now she felt a tender stirring inside her chest. Maybe the man didn’t want to get married any more than she did, but was being pressured by his kin. That was something she understood.
Dunmore shrugged. “Besides, I did nae promise him ye’d handfast.”
“Ye did nae? In truth, Dunmore?” That tender emotion stirred again, this time stronger. Could it be that the man wanted to meet her and discover if there was anything between them? Now that would be too much to hope for. It would mean he was not ruled by lust for coin and land.
Dunmore cuffed her gently beneath the chin. “I told him that ye are wild and proud of yer purity.”
Elspeth snorted at him. “Now yer back to praising me for holding tightly onto my virginity. What happened to yer suggestion of handfasting?”
“Be who ye are and meet the man. If he does nae please ye, I’ll negotiate a contract with the Setons. There’s a second son in that clan I think would have ye with what ye come with.” He held up his hand to still her next comment. “But Monroe is still coming here to meet ye, so ye can hide above stairs if ye’re too worried about not being able to remain a maiden just because ye’ve been in the same room with him.”
Elspeth frowned at him, but her brother clearly thought his plan a sound one. She battled against the urge to feel defeated but it was becoming harder, especially when she noticed her brother’s men peeking around the edge of the wall to see how she was taking the news.
Oh, fie upon it.
With her own mother gone, there was no woman with enough position to force her brother to see reason.
“I am going riding to think the matter through,” she announced in a firm tone. “And I am taking yer horse, not some tired-out mare.”
That drew a frown from her brother. He adored his stallion, but so did she. At least there would be some enjoyment from the day’s events. Her brother didn’t care to share the prized animal but she was going to take what enjoyment she might.
“You will nae.” Dunmore crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s time for ye to stop straddling a horse. No man wants that in a wife. I should have forbid ye that years ago.”
Elspeth narrowed her eyes. “I’m asking for a bit of time to think it through. ’Tis nae much of a concession to let me ride out on a horse that has some life in him. Seeing as how ye told Monroe how untamed I am. Ye can’t very well have the man showing up and seeing me walking along on a mare with my legs hanging down sidesaddle. Why, such is the very definition of submissive. Nothing wild at all about that.”
Her brother snorted. “I hate the way ye turn my own words against me. All right. Off with ye.”
Her brother grumbled but she didn’t remain to listen to him. The urge to escape was pounding through her, urging her toward the open land beyond the walls of their tower.
She loved Dunmore’s stallion. Elspeth slowed down when she entered the section of the stable where the animal was housed. She never approached it too quickly because a wise person didn’t startle such a powerful beast.
The power in him fascinated her. There were plenty of people telling her to stay well away from the stallion, but she didn’t listen to them. It felt as if something drew her to him. She reached out and touched his velvety coat with her fingertips to judge his temper, and it felt as if fire raced down her arm and into her body. The animal tossed its head, pulling on the leather that held it in the stall.
“Aye, my beauty, that is exactly what I was thinking of—getting out of here.”
Pulling the saddle from where it rested over a rail, she secured it on top of the horse. Reaching for the knot that held the bridle, she untied it and wrapped the reins around her fist.
“Do ye nae think that is wee bit too much horse for ye, lass?”
The stallion’s front hooves came off the ground and he let out a shrill sound. Whoever had snuck up on her reached for the bridle but Elspeth pulled down on the reins, controlling the horse before her unwelcome company got close enough to do it. Stroking the stallion’s muzzle in a soothing motion, she peered over the thick neck of the animal at her company.
“Nae. ’Tis not the first time I have ridden him.” And she didn’t care if she was being prideful in telling him that.
“Is that a fact?”
He sounded amused by her claim. There was only a small bit of daylight left and most of it didn’t make its way into the stable with its small windows. Whoever he was, he stood tall enough to have to watch the ceiling or risk knocking his head on one of the thick beams that supported the roof.
“It is nothing ye have to take my word for. Stand there and ye can watch me mount him.”
She was not going to waste the last of the day debating with a stranger when she had her brother’s permission to ride his stallion. Tugging on the reins, she led the horse through the doorway and out into the yard. With a carefully placed foot, she used the power in her legs to gain the saddle. The stallion danced with excitement, snorting in the evening air. But she felt the eyes of the stranger on her. She shouldn’t care what he thought, not when there were far more important matters for her mind to dwell on today.
Still, she couldn’t resist the urge to look behind her. He stood just outside the stable door and his head was even with it. The evening sun touched him and set his hair aglow. It was dark but with copper hiding beneath that dark sable mane. He had it pulled back from his face but the back of it rested on his broad shoulders. Even his beard had a touch of copper in its dark hue, and the sun lit it. But it was the way he watched her that drew her attention. Something flickered in his eyes that filled her with confidence. There was no hint of disapproval for the way she sat atop the horse with her thighs gripping the saddle. In fact, it looked as though he approved of her approach to riding the stallion. Many would not. Half her own clan warned her that riding astride would make her sterile. The other half was quick to tell her that no man would have her to wife if she insisted on acting so dominating. For the moment she didn’t care. Quite possibly, that would be the best solution because then she would never have to marry and answer to another man. Dunmore was bad enough. The only thing that drove her toward considering Laird Hayden Monroe was the fact that her brother would marry soon and his bride would consider herself the mistress of the tower. An unwed sister wouldn’t be wanted, which meant she had important things to think on.
“As you see, I know what I am about.”
“It does appear that way, but it does take a wee bit more to impress me than just sitting there.” His gaze moved over her, touching on the way her knees pressed into the sides of the horse, and a flicker of approval lit his eyes. “A lad of ten could do as much as you’ve shown me.”