Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03] (3 page)

For several weeks, Sybella had occupied herself with meaningless tasks. But no matter what she tried, her mind kept returning to its tortured thinking. What would the future hold when she became the wife of her father’s enemy? To her regret, she could no longer hold off the inevitable. By this time tomorrow, she would know.

As she, her father, Colin, and members of their clan rode toward Glengarry, the clomping hoofbeats that surrounded her drowned out her silent screams of desperation. She wasn’t daft enough to believe her father would never arrange a marriage for her, but she found it hard to accept that the MacDonell would be her husband. Day after day, night after night, the same pompous man by her side. Her only hope was to find the stone quickly and bring this nightmare to an end.

“How are ye holding up, Ella?” asked her brother, riding up beside her.

Her eyes widened and she finally gave in to the tension that had been building all day. “How in the hell do ye
think
I am holding up, Colin?”

He lowered his voice. “I know ye arenae pleased with wedding the MacDonell, but ye do realize it could’ve been much worse.”

“And who could possibly be worse than the MacDonell?” she asked, raising her brow.

“The MacLeod of Lewis.”

She smiled smoothly, betraying nothing of her annoyance. “Father would have ne’er arranged for me to wed the MacLeod. Besides, ye were there when he said as much.”

Colin’s mouth pulled into a sour grin. “I only want for ye to be safe, Sister. Give yourself some time to settle in with the MacDonell. Donna be reckless and start your search for the stone if your husband has yet to trust ye.” He paused. “And if ye ever want for anything, ye need only call upon me and I will be at your side.” She raised her eyes to find him watching her. “I mean every word.”

As if her dormant wits had renewed themselves, she straightened herself with dignity. “I am a MacKenzie. I will do what is required of me. Donna worry. I will make ye and Father proud.”

“I am always proud of ye. Ne’er forget that.” Colin gave her a brief nod and then trotted up next to her father.

One of the many things she would miss about home was her brother. Colin never wanted more from her than she was able to give and basically never expected her to be something she wasn’t. She would sorely miss times like these when he talked to her and spent time with her, when he’d taken her on jaunts in the woods. She’d treasure those memories forever. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to give up any of that. And now she found herself momentarily saddened. This was her family. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would be welcomed into another or kept isolated simply because her last name was MacKenzie. No matter, she would make the best of it. She always did.

Something flashed at the corner of her eye.

A handful of MacDonell guards thundered toward them, the MacDonell tartan whipping in the wind. For a moment, she breathed in shallow, quick gasps. The men looked formidable riding their gigantic steeds, their hands placed strategically on the hilts of their swords. Could it be any more apparent that the MacDonell men did not trust the MacKenzies?

Colin moved protectively to her side. “
’
Tis only the MacDonell guard. We are now on the MacDonell’s lands. The men will escort us to Glengarry.”

She nodded because words simply failed her.

Sybella continued to study her surroundings—the lochs, trees, anything that would help her escape from her purpose. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t see the bonny sights anyway through her haze of swirling emotions. She suddenly felt ill-equipped to undertake such a task.

As if Colin read her mind, lines of concentration deepened along his brow and under his eyes. He’d flanked her the entire way, and she had to admit, his mere presence made her feel secure. Perhaps he only did it to make certain she would not flee, but she was comforted nonetheless.

Overlooking beautiful Loch Omhaich, Glengarry was an imposing gray stone structure boasting a gigantic L-shaped tower house with a round tower. The castle was somewhat elegant and formidable. Although the beastly MacDonell would need a place large enough to house his big-headedness, his home was not as Sybella had imagined it.

As her father entered the bustling bailey, he was immediately greeted by a wall of MacDonell men. Their untrusting eyes continued to survey him as he dismounted.

“Your new home is quite lovely,” said Mary, her eyes glowing with delight.

Angus lowered his voice. “Here comes your betrothed. Let him assist ye from your mount.”

And there he was.

His kilt rode low on his lean hips, and Sybella would recognize that arrogant swagger anywhere. He had a strong chiseled jaw, blue eyes, and light chestnut hair that was long enough to brush the outlines of his broad shoulders. The muscles under his white tunic quickened her pulse, and his stance emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips. Praise the saints. He was definitely not the same boy she had met at the waterfall.

When the MacDonell spotted her, his smile broadened and he walked to her side. He held up his hand to assist her. “Lady Sybella MacKenzie, welcome to Glengarry.” He had the nerve to wink at her when he caught her eye, and then his gaze roamed over her figure as if he undressed her with his eyes.

Sybella couldn’t help herself. She refused to let the man get the best of her—again. She returned a frank and admiring look at him, studying his body unhurriedly, feature by feature. As if he enjoyed her subtle challenge, featherlike laugh lines crinkled around his eyes.

“Sybella!” Mary’s tone was coolly disapproving.

Ignoring the MacDonell’s hand, Sybella shifted her leg and slid from her mount. She would make it perfectly clear that she didn’t need the dastardly man or his help.

A soft gasp escaped Mary, and Angus interjected. “Please excuse my cousin’s lack of—”

The MacDonell chuckled in response. “There is nay need for apologies.” When an older woman with silvery hair walked up behind him and nudged his back, he turned and wrapped his arm around the woman. “Lady Sybella MacKenzie, pray allow me to introduce Lady Iseab—
”

The older woman reached out and fingered Sybella’s curls. “Praise the saints. Ye are a bonny lass. I always wished to have honey-colored tresses myself.” The woman brought her hand to her own hair. “Now I am only graced with death-gray. And please donna listen to my nephew. Ye may call me Aunt Iseabail.”

It was hard to believe that the arrogant MacDonell could have an aunt who was kind and free spoken. Sybella sensed a kindred spirit, and there was something warm and enchanting about this woman. She smiled and gave the MacDonell’s aunt a small curtsy. “
’
Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Aunt Iseabail.” Leaning in close, Sybella added, “I think your silvery tresses are verra becoming on ye.”

The woman’s smile brightened. “Come inside, my dear. All of ye.”

***

To say there was tension among the people in the room would understate the situation. Granted, it was hard to erase all the years of turmoil and hardship the MacKenzies had caused, but Alex’s clan needed to at least try to make amends. He hoped his impending marriage would open that door and only prayed it wouldn’t close before he had the chance to complete the task.

Pulling himself to his feet, Alex lifted his tankard. Silence enveloped the room and all eyes were upon him. He chose his words carefully. “Let us nae speak of the past, but look toward the future with hope and promise.” An unwelcome tension stretched even tighter among the clans and blank stares continued to gaze back at him. They did not look convinced—at all. Not a smile was to be had, unless he counted Aunt Iseabail. He needed to do something fast.

When he glanced down at his betrothed, she sat in the chair, her thin fingers tensed in her lap. Her emerald gown clung to the luscious curves of her body, and for a moment, Alex had to be honest. MacKenzie or not, the lass had grown into a beautiful woman. He had a hard time keeping his eyes from her. She was still the same wild beauty he had met at the waterfall so many years ago. Back then she was just a young lass, straight as a stick. But now, she had filled out in all the right places and was feminine—very feminine.

He extended his hand and pulled her to her feet. “And let me introduce my future bride, Lady Sybella MacKenzie.” He lifted Sybella’s hand, and when he brushed a soft kiss on her ivory fingers, the MacKenzie men cheered. It was only a matter of time before Alex’s kin followed.

“Now let us all enjoy this bountiful feast and welcome the union of our clans.
’
Tis indeed a celebration,” said Alex, his voice laced with pride. He and his future bride sat back down at the table. Damn. The woman had no idea how captivating she was when she smiled.

The tables were covered with meat, cheeses, and breads, and Aunt Iseabail’s flowery touches were placed in bundles on each of the tables. He had to admit that he was rather pleased. Glengarry looked welcoming for the new lady of the castle. He only hoped Sybella felt the same.

“Nicely done, MacDonell,” said the MacKenzie, giving him a brief nod.

Alex returned the same gesture and then leaned in close to his betrothed. “Are ye pleased?”

Her tankard froze at her lips, and a puzzled look crossed her features. “What?” She hesitated and then quickly added, “Pardon, my laird?”

When Alex repeated the question and she still held the same look of confusion, he smiled. “Our clans, they are conversing.” She nodded slightly and then took another sip from her tankard. “Since ye are to be my wife on the morrow, ye may call me by my given name, Alexander. My friends call me Alex.”

“Verra well. If ye insist. The food is verra good,
Alexander,
” she said with quiet emphasis.

So that was the game his future wife wanted to play. He couldn’t help but turn up his smile a notch. “Aye. Cook prepared a fine meal. The meat is actually from your father.”

“Mmm…I wondered how much cattle I was worth,” Sybella retorted with cold sarcasm.

He raised his brow. “Pardon?”

She shook her head and rubbed her temples. “
Tha mo cheann goirt.
”
I have a headache.

“Would ye like to retire to your chamber?”

Sybella squared her shoulders, her creamy breasts rising over her formfitting gown. “Please accept my apologies. I am nae yet ready to take my leave.”

As he was about to return to his own meal, he noticed a woman waving to his betrothed. In fact, he believed the woman had been introduced as Mary. When his eyes met Mary’s, she quickly looked to the ground at the same time he felt Sybella stiffen at his side. Not thinking it was his imagination, he continued to look in the woman’s direction several additional times. She was definitely giving his betrothed some type of signal.

“Do ye think it will rain on the morrow? I wouldnae want mud to dirty the gown I had made for the occasion,” said Sybella in an odd tone.

His eyes widened in surprise. “I donna think it will rain. I am sure your dress will be fine. Are ye all right?” He couldn’t help but notice the forced words that seemed to escape her lips. It was also hard to miss the fact that she had adjusted her posture and sat ramrod straight as if bound in the tightest corset imaginable. In truth, his betrothed looked uncomfortable and pained.

“Of course,” said Sybella, returning to her meal.

Alex made another quick and involuntary appraisal of her features. The lass had certainly grown in more bountiful places since the last time he had kissed her innocent lips. It seemed not that long ago when he had discovered the young girl at the waterfall. Although only a boy himself, the memory of her unsullied touch stayed with him long after their encounter. He often wondered what had become of her.

The corner of his lips lifted into a smile when he realized he would fulfill the nagging fantasy that plagued him as a lad. He discreetly reached down and adjusted the front of his kilt, finding a great sense of satisfaction in the fact that on the morrow, his fantasy would no longer be a dream.

***

Mary was annoying. The infuriating woman’s unrelenting gestures for initiating polite conversation or for sitting up straight were making Sybella daft. And the amusing part was that her foolish cousin had no idea how close she was to being pummeled into oblivion. Sybella tried desperately to disguise her annoyance in front of others but didn’t think she was fooling Alexander.

The man continued to survey her, and her pulse skittered alarmingly. She cleared her throat, pretending to be unaffected by his gaze. Her heart began to hammer in her chest, and she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. Her cousin rattled her. Of course, that most definitely was not because of the man sitting beside her, devilishly handsome. His strong features held a certain sensuality she could not deny; however, she could ignore it—more or less.

Alexander leaned back, sizing her up, and that was the point when Sybella realized her behavior was absolutely ridiculous. The position of her back was causing it to ache. Why should she care what notion the man held of her feminine qualities? She never pretended—for anyone.

She sat back casually in the chair, relaxing to the best of her ability and soaking up the air of the celebration. Once the men lightened their moods, the sounds of laughter spread throughout the great hall. The reason for their merriment could have been the result of the flowing ale, but it was a somewhat enjoyable occasion nonetheless.

The MacDonells truly did everything they could to make the MacKenzies feel at home. And Sybella’s kin must have felt it too because as the evening progressed, some of them sat at the table with Alexander’s family. By the jovial expressions among the clans, they were all at least feigning to mend the past. Although the idea was somewhat unbelievable, Alexander even treated her with dignity and respect. Granted, they barely spoke, but she gave him the credit he deserved. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as terrible as she had initially thought.

Her father should be proud. Moreover, the man appeared downright pleased as he mingled with the MacDonell men, Colin by his side. She was glad to see that her father’s spirits weren’t dampened by her impending union. Even though her only purpose was to steal back the stone, she knew it must be difficult for her father to not only lose his wife but now his daughter as well.