Highland Archer Read online

  A battle between clans was the last thing he wanted at the moment. Laird for fewer than six months, his father, not too long dead, there was much to learn.

  Then there was the fact he was due to marry two weeks hence and begin his life as leader of the large McKenzie Clan. Although the small McLeod Clan was barely a threat to them, if the other, larger McLeod clans decided to join with them, it could prove rather troublesome.

  They’d maintained a friendly truce of sorts with the McLeods of Mudduch to the north. The clan was always too busy fighting with the McDonnalls over their eastern border to fight with his. If, however, those McLeods got wind of what happened and joined with the larger clan from Skye, then the clan war could last for a long time.

  Steaphan wondered at sending a messenger to the laird of the McLeods of Mudduch explaining the circumstances. Then again, he could visit himself and speak to the man. The McLeod of Mudduch was an older man whom he’d hunted with on several occasions.

  “Send half of the men to the keep. You and twenty ride with me to visit the McLeod of the Mudduch,” Steaphan told his first, Niven.

  After a firm nod, the warrior rode off to give the orders.

  Steaphan took the moment alone to consider what to do about Darach. The archer did not trust him and his dislike for him and his clan was evident by the way he looked at them. He did not begrudge his twin’s distrust or hatred. If things were switched, it was probable he’d feel the same. But it was important that Darach be given the opportunity to know his family. To become aware of what happened that night twenty-seven years ago.

  Neither of them were the same, too many circumstances came between them. Even if identical twins, their personalities were affected by the facets of life. What kind of life had Darach led? He was part of the guard for the McLeod, which meant he’d had a humble life. Unlike he, who’d never suffered for anything, Darach had probably grown up wanting much.

  It was only fair that he be afforded the opportunity now to be part of Clan McKenzie and regain all he’d lost. Steaphan wasn’t sure how to go about it, but he’d keep insisting until Darach listened to him.

  * * *

  The next day, upon arriving at Mudduch, Steaphan noted no one seemed at all discomfited by his visit. The gates to the McLeod keep were open. He found it interesting that word had not gotten to them. Or if it had, it did not bother the laird to know his kinsmen were being attacked.

  Once inside the courtyard, Steaphan dismounted. When a lad came to take the horse away, he placed a hand on the thin boy’s shoulder. “Wait a moment. I may not be staying long.”

  Laird McLeod, himself, came to greet him. The lanky man emerged from a side entry and looked from him to his guards. “Aye, McKenzie. I didn’t know to expect ye.”

  He motioned for the boys to take the horses. “Go on now. He will remain for the evening meal.”

  From under bushy brows, McLeod looked to Steaphan. “We have much to discuss. The meal is about to be served and it’s best you and your men come inside. I don’t want to anger cook as she is quite proud of her food today.”

  Steaphan walked with the man who limped visibly from an old battle injury. His twisted right leg barely sustained his weight. Yet he moved at a fast pace beside Steaphan.

  The McLeod lifted a finger at him. “You fight the McLeods of the south. Very dangerous proposition that. If the clan from Skye decides to declare war, we may have to join with them.”

  Steaphan nodded. “It was they who brought war to us by killing innocent men who did nothing more than hunt.”

  “Aye. Innocent or not, they should have known the boundaries of the land. It is important the people are aware of them. It never works well to encroach into another clan’s territory. Look at my situation. The damn McDonnalls, we are always in some sort of fight or another. They insist on the land on the eastern edge of the loch. I’m of a mind to give it to them just to put a stop to all of it.” The McLeod chuckled and coughed to cover it up when entering the great room.

  “Let us sit. I have a proposition.” With those encoded words, he moved away and went to where his wife sat.

  Steaphan bowed at Lady McLeod and then at the younger woman who sat beside her. Upon straightening, he felt his eyes widen at the beauty. She sat straight, her curious hazel gaze taking him in, as well.

  The McLeod waited for him to take a seat beside him. “My daughter, Fiona. I don’t believe you have met her yet.”

  “Nay, I have not.” Steaphan could not help stealing another look at the woman who spoke to her mother in low tones. Whatever they spoke of seemed to make the fair Fiona unhappy as she huffed in response and pressed her bow-shaped lips together.

  Lady McLeod looked toward him and then whispered something to her daughter.

  Did they talk about him? If so, why would the conversation anger the younger woman?

  “We killed a boar just two days ago. Its meat promises to be plentiful and tasty. Enjoy.” The McLeod took two large pieces of meat and placed them on his own plate. The meal was, indeed, quite flavorful. Steaphan noted his men seemed to relax a bit while eating.

  His guard, Niven, looked not so at ease as the rest of the men, his gaze constantly traveling the room. As it should be.

  Steaphan himself wasn’t sure whether to trust the McLeod at this point not to poison his food or attack once his men’s guards were down.

  “What is this proposition you have?” Steaphan asked the older man who took a healthy drink of his ale.

  “That our clans join. We have been on friendly terms for many years. Before you, I hunted with your father many a time. A battle between us would be a pity.” The laird waited for him to respond. Steaphan agreed with the man. As much as he loathed the McLeods of the south, Mudduch was like a second home to him. Often, he’d accompanied the older men hunting and, although he’d never met the laird’s family, they’d always remained cordial with each other, often remaining neutral over their clashes with other clans.

  “I agree. I prefer not to battle against you.” Steaphan looked to the older man and noted relief. “How do you propose we join?” Once the words escaped, he immediately knew the answer. The reason for Fiona being there and for the lass being angry. The laird would propose they marry.

  His marriage to a woman he’d been betrothed to for years was set to take place within weeks. He stole another look to Fiona, who continued to look straight ahead, her gaze determinedly fixed away from him.

  “You know now, do you not?” the McKenzie asked him with a soft smile. “My daughter, Fiona, and you will marry. We cannot waste more time for I foresee the messenger from my kinsmen, arriving within a day or two, demanding we join with them.”

  Steaphan looked to Niven, whose rounded eyes danced from him to Fiona and then to the McLeod.

  “I don’t know what to say. I am due to get married.”

  The McLeod nodded in understanding. “If you can think of a better way, then present it.”

  Steaphan considered his options. His sibling at the McKenzie keep was a not only female, but already married with a family and his only brother was pledged to the McLeods. Even if he could reach him in time, the male would more than likely slice him down before agreeing to do anything to help his clan. To bring peace to the region.

  No, his brother wanted blood and, although seeming to be a leader to the McLeod warriors, he had no alliance.

  “I cannot think of another way,” he acquiesced. “I will marry your daughter and make her lady over the McKenzie Clan.”

  “Verra well.” The McLeod signaled for a steward to come forward. “Bring the clergyman at once.” He stood and the room hushed, all eyes, including his own men, locked to the laird. “There will be a wedding this eve. My lovely daughter, Fiona, will marry Steaphan McKenzie of Gladdaugh.”

  There were grumbles from the men and gasps from the women. But they all waited to hear what else the laird would pronounce.

  “We do this together to keep further war from our clans. We are
the friends of the McKenzies of Gladdaugh. They are now to be kinsmen with the McLeods of Mudduch.”

  Steaphan stood and held up his cup. “Long live the McLeod of Mudduch!”

  The clansmen lifted tankards and hailed their chief with louds calls. The laird waited for them to quiet and lifted his. “And long live the McKenzie of Gladdaugh.”

  A quieter cheer followed. Maids entered with filled pitchers to refill cups and tankards for celebrating. Steaphan looked to Fiona who, at that moment, looked to him and upon their gazes meeting, could barely drag his away. It was hard to decipher her expression. Somewhere between curiosity and wariness. He wondered if it reflected his. As much as he looked forward to marrying the woman back at his homelands, he wondered if fate brought this new woman to him for a reason. Union with her meant the possibility of peace for his people. At least the threat from his northern border would be gone. Maybe, after a time, to the south as well.

  He barely tasted the food, his mind turning more to what would happen upon his return home. His betrothed and her family were to arrive within days. He got up and motioned to his first. “Niven, send a messenger to my betrothed’s father. Let them know the marriage is off. I’m not sure what excuse to use.” He searched his mind. “What say you?”

  “The truth. That you are forced to marry to keep peace in our land.” Niven looked to the high board. “Yer mother will be angry.”

  “Aye. I know, but it cannot be helped.”

  Just then, the clergy was brought, the man looked to be confused by the way he searched the room as if expecting something horrible to happen to him. He stormed toward Laird McKenzie. “What is the meaning of this? You are aware I cannot marry people without banners and such.” He lifted his hand and pointed at the man who seemed more amused than angry. “You know better than that, Naill McLeod.”

  The McLeod peered down at the clergyman. “Would you prefer to see this clan go to war then?”

  “It will take time to ensure the marriage is valid. Surely you can wait a fortnight.” The clergyman looked about the room as if waiting for agreements from those there. Everyone remained silent awaiting the laird’s decree.

  Steaphan crossed his arms over his chest upon noticing Fiona also looked to her father with expectation.

  * * *

  Fiona could not believe her luck. A way to get out of marrying a total stranger, a McKenzie no less, came from the vicar of all people. She’d never gotten along with the clergy, but now she wanted to rush to the old, craggy man and kiss him.

  If her father agreed to wait, it gave her time to escape, to run away to her beloved. She searched the room for her warrior, but did not see him about. Strange, he’d been there just a few moments ago. Perhaps he was enraged by the announcement. She’d wait to see what happened and then go in search of him.

  The McKenzie stood still as a statue, his muscular arms crossed on his broad chest. She’d not seen a man as tall, intimidating, and stoic. She understood why her father would rather join with him than fight. The guards that came with him were battle-seasoned warriors who’d easily mow through their men. At the moment, she hated the lot life dealt her.

  “Father, I will not marry him. If he is betrothed, he should marry the woman he made a promise to.” Fiona knew her argument would fall on deaf ears, but had to try.

  “You will perform the ceremony and that’s final,” her father said to the clergyman, ignoring her request. He slammed his cup on the table with so much force both she and the clergyman jumped. “Let us get on with it.”

  “Father, may I first go see about something?” Fiona was relieved when her father nodded.

  “Hurry on about it. We have to get you married and the consummation done before the McKenzie departs.”

  Her father’s words, said without inflection, brought a cheer from the men and her face to blazing warmth.

  She hustled from the high board. Everyone suspected she went to relieve herself, but she passed the doorway to the privy and headed down a hallway to the courtyard. Fiona lifted her skirts to move faster. The sooner she got to her warrior, the faster she could convince him they must leave at once.

  Moaning from a deep male voice was accompanied by a woman’s higher cries. Fiona didn’t have to go any nearer to know what happened, but morbid curiosity pulled at her. The couple was so engrossed; they didn’t hear her as she moved closer.

  A few moments later, she returned to the great room, her spirit dry. It no longer mattered that she was to be used as an object, a pawn in the game men played. She stood next to the much taller McKenzie as the clergyman went through the vows and the proceedings while her mind remained in the hallway.

  When her warrior had finally noticed her, he’d barely stopped moving into the woman. His gaze was cold and distant, the message clear. He never meant to take her away.

  “Give me your hand.” The McKenzie’s gray eyes met hers and she had to admit the man was quite handsome. Yet a handsome devil was still a devil.

  Their hands were bound, his larger one enveloping hers. The warmth of his touch sent tendrils of heat up her cold arm. She shivered and noticed his eyes go to her face as if assessing what she thought.

  “Repeat after me.” The clergyman took them through the vows and Fiona repeated the words. The beauty of the promises was not lost on her as one tear escaped and slid down her cheek.

  Steaphan McKenzie wiped it away with his thumb. “I hope not to see many more tears from my wife.”

  Fiona let out a deep sigh and met his gaze. For an instant, she wanted to reassure him, but just as she went to speak, the vicar interrupted, pronouncing them husband and wife.

  After a chaste kiss, they turned to face her clan who cheered. She understood the necessity of the marriage; her clan would remain in relative peace from now on. Except for the minor scuffles with the McDonnalls, her union with Steaphan McKenzie was needed. She scanned the faces of her kinsmen and couldn’t help but smile at them. They trusted her father’s decisions and he was a good laird. Although she’d leave with her new husband, it was comforting to know her clan would be safe and well.

  The feasting annoyed Fiona more than anything. Her clansmen celebrated with loud guffaws at crude jokes someone said, while the ale was poured and pitchers passed. It mattered very little to them what they celebrated. More interested in the gossip the union between her and the McKenzie and what their night would be, than actually taking time to consider how she may feel.

  She stole a glance at her new husband, who’d yet to speak to her since they’d wed. Instead, he maintained a steady conversation with her father about an upcoming clan issue. It was almost as if he’d forgotten she were there.

  “Come, Fiona, we must prepare you for your bedding.” Her mother touched her shoulder, her fingers pressing in, in an attempt to reassure her. Fiona stood and followed her. Steaphan’s gray gaze went to her at that moment. He looked first to her face and slowly down to her bosom before lowering down the length of her body. Finally, his gaze went toward the hallway to where she’d go and then resumed his conversation with the men.

  Breath caught in her throat, Fiona’s heartbeat quickened. The effect of his regard confused her. How could a man’s gaze alone have so much power? It was probably the culmination of so many emotions in so short a time. Her mind was askew.

  Just that morning, she’d woken with thoughts of stealing away with her love, to sneak a kiss and a tender word. Now she had to admit, the warrior never affected her in such a manner. He never looked to her, barely ever met her gaze, so terrified of being found out by the laird. Fiona always chalked it up to him needing to keep the position and provide for his mother and sister, but now she wondered if he’d lied about everything.

  Certainly didn’t seem too worried about being caught with the maid in the narrow hallway of the keep.

  She stumbled and her mother took her elbow. “Fiona, I know this is not easy. I tried to talk your father out of it. More time at least to get you used to the idea. But he
said it was best to do so immediately. Time is of the essence.”

  “Of course, Mother. I understand. It’s important to keep our people safe. This is part of being the laird’s daughter. To be used as a pawn.”

  Her mother rushed to the door and closed it. “Do not speak that way. Yes, it is your duty. Just like everyone else in the clan. We each have a role to perform. You may not understand it now. One day you will.” Her mother moved behind her to unlace her bodice.

  “Do you know how it is between a man and a woman?”

  “I’ve seen it done. Just today, I caught one of the guards tupping a maid,” Fiona replied honestly. “The man mounts a woman either from behind or from the front. It may or may not be pleasurable, depending on the circumstances. Since my first coupling with my husband will be public, it will, in most likeliness, not be pleasurable.”

  Her mother’s face reddened. “The McKenzie is a handsome man. He is rather large, so I pray he doesn’t hurt you.”

  She’d not considered his size. The man was rather tall and broad. Would his member be so, as well? Fiona bit her bottom lip in thought. “Mother, how can I ensure it doesn’t hurt too badly?”

  For a moment, her mother furrowed her brow in thought. “First of all, we’ll get you some whiskey. It will help you relax, if you keep your eyes on him. Not on the others in the room. On his face. Breathe evenly and do not clench, but allow your body to remain loose for when he mounts you.”

  A maid materialized a few moments later with whiskey to which her mother added honey. Fiona drank two large pourings and glad for it when, indeed, her body relaxed. Her lips curved upward and her eyes drooped. “This is so good,” she murmured. “I shall have it every single night.”

  “Oh goodness, perhaps we gave her too much.” Her mother leaned closer and peered at her. “Fiona, don’t fall asleep. Open your eyes and look at me.”

  A giggle erupted and she hiccupped at how funny her mother looked. “My eyes are open.”