Bride of a Scottish Warrior Read online

  “Yer concern and caring does ye proud, Grace. The clans have fought against each other and among themselves fer years, and though there are many that long fer it to stop, we know it willnae.” Ewan peered keenly at her. “Ye must learn to let go of the past and look toward the future. With me.”

  Grace took a deep, shaking breath and placed a trembling hand to her throat. Potent emotions gripped her soul. “Wedding ye is not the answer.”

  Ewan seemed to consider her words carefully before speaking. “What do ye truly fear, Grace? Please, tell me.”

  Grace didn’t reply right away. She leaned against the stone wall and crossed her arms over her chest. What did she fear? Roderick’s retribution rearing its ugly head and threatening not only his clan, but the McKennas as well? Aye, that was a big worry.

  As for marriage, well, she could not tell him the truth . . . that her past made her feel enormous guilt. That the only way to possibly atone for her actions was to seek a life of pious solitude and devotion, locked behind the walls of a convent.

  “Dinnae press me, Ewan; I beg ye. All I can say is that I cannae be a wife to any man.”

  “Not even me? I’m different from most others. I want more from my wife than to take complete control of her life. I want a companion, a woman who will share in my joys and burdens, who will advise me when it’s needed. A woman I can honor and cherish.”

  And love.

  He was not foolish enough to speak the words, for he must have known that any woman would be hard-pressed to believe them upon such a short acquaintance. But he was clever enough to know that was what many females craved most of all—to be loved.

  Still, Grace clearly heard that magical word—love—in the sincerity of his tone, the wistfulness of his expression. It brought tears to her eyes. It would have been so much easier to turn him away if he were merely searching for an advantageous alliance. If he wanted a wife for the usual reasons of property and position.

  She shivered, looking away. His tender, sweet words were difficult to ignore, yet she knew that she must. “Ye need a wife with a dowry, who has a family that will accept ye. There are many others that will do.”

  “Nay, Grace. Ye. I only want ye.” He touched her cheek, then cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I cannae promise to be an ideal husband, but I will try to be all that you wish me to be, all that you need.”

  She had to bite her lip to hold back the smile that lightened her heart, for it was cruel to encourage him and foolish to indulge herself. “Ye are without question the boldest man in the Highlands, Ewan Gilroy.”

  He grinned at her. Grace felt her heart quicken and her throat go dry. She knew he was going to kiss her even before he leaned close and brushed his mouth against hers. And when he did, she forgot to breathe.

  Her entire being was enraptured by the feel of his lips on hers. He put his arms around her and drew her close and Grace sighed with contentment. The sensation was so sweet, so perfect, she allowed herself to get lost in it.

  The pressure on her lips increased and Grace clutched the muscular strength of Ewan’s arms, lifting herself up on her toes to get closer. Boldly, she parted her lips, gasping at the feel of his velvet tongue sweeping across hers. It made her tingle and tense, bringing on a restless urgency throughout her body.

  Wanting, nay needing, more, she arched forward, tilting her head and kissing him back. He answered by moving his warm hands frantically up and down her back, molding her body against his. The exquisite pleasure seemed to fill her entire being. Like a fever it seemed to overwhelm her, making her almost dizzy with exhilaration.

  His breathing was fast and hard and she could feel the thickening hardness beneath his braies pressing against her belly. She closed her eyes tightly, unable to control the trembling that shook her body. Their tongues continued to dance as their kisses grew bolder and Grace felt a quiver inside her, an ache of need, the restless urgency of unfulfilled passion.

  Unfulfilled. And thus it must remain.

  Regretfully, she twisted her lips away. Ewan groaned low in his throat. His hands were in her hair, holding her face between his palms. When her breathing finally slowed, Grace dared to look up at him.

  Ewan’s eyes were glittering like fire. She recognized the intense need on his face, hardly believing that she had been the one to put it there. He wanted her. Badly. Not only for her dowry, not only for an alliance—he wanted her.

  The knowledge rattled her. For a moment, a pang of longing for what could never be stirred inside her, but she quickly suppressed it.

  “Ye will be mine one day,” he murmured.

  Grace shook her head. His voice was a low rumble in her ear, deep and oddly comforting. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her ringless fingers. For a long tense moment they stared at one another.

  Somewhere in the distance Grace heard people talking. It would be unwise to be caught alone with Ewan; castle gossip could force the issue of her marriage and cause Ewan greater humiliation when she refused. “We should not be seen in so intimate a setting together,” she muttered.

  Grace nearly flinched beneath the kind stare he gave her, as it made her feel unworthy of his sympathy and understanding. “I’ll go back to the hall first,” he offered. “Then ye follow.”

  Not trusting her voice, Grace nodded. He will soon forget me, she told herself sternly. As I will him.

  Yet she stayed rooted to the spot, her gaze following him long after he had disappeared down the lonely corridor.

  Thoughts of Ewan were soon replaced by disturbing thoughts of Roderick. Knowing she was in no fit state to return to the hall, Grace instead sought a place for private reflection where she could be alone with her thoughts. Remembering a quiet area on the large curtain wall, Grace walked to the end of the corridor and began climbing the stairs.

  She was slightly out of breath by the time she reached the fourth and final staircase. Lifting the hem of her gown, Grace placed her feet carefully on the slick, steep treads and stepped out onto the battlements. Normally, she disliked great heights, but the lure of this peaceful scene calmed her.

  A breeze of cool air greeted her, welcomed and bracing. Grace placed her hands on the top of the gray stone wall, darkened with age, and leaned forward, taking in the spectacular view.

  The newly plowed fields stretched nearly as far as the eye could see, straight rows of neat tilled earth. Beyond them were meadows and streams and to the left a vast forest. The village at the base of the long hill that surrounded the castle was a labyrinth of shops and thatch-roofed homes, most with smoke rising through the chimneys.

  Even from this distance she could hear the sounds of the hammers and saws of the laboring men, could catch the faint scent of roasting meat and rich stews as the women prepared the evening meal for their families. It was a tranquil, everyday occurrence, but the hard-won peace of the moment was undeniable.

  All that will change if Roderick appears.

  Grace shuddered, hugging her arms tightly around her waist. She had great faith in her brother’s skill, and the strength and readiness of the McKenna’s warriors. There was no doubt they would protect her if Roderick dared to show his face. Nay, it wasn’t the McKenna men she doubted, it was Roderick. He wouldn’t fight fairly or honorably to get what he wanted.

  And that put every man, woman, and child of the clan at risk.

  The mere thought of it was her undoing. Instinctively, Grace dropped to her knees and bowed her head. Ever since Alastair’s death she had found little comfort in prayer, but suddenly that felt like the only thing she could do.

  The words were slow to fall from her lips, but soon the apprehension faded as she opened her mind and heart. Thoughts and possible action mixed with her prayers until a sense of rightness entered her soul. Her choices were few, but the decision was suddenly easy.

  For the protection and safety of all those she loved, ’twas time for her to leave.

  As soon as the morning meal was cleared from the great hall,
Grace went in search of her brother. Though convinced of the rightness of her decision, sleep had been impossible last night. As she walked the corridor toward the laird’s private study, a dull ache pounded in her temples. She had never before felt so weary. It felt as though all emotions had been drained from her and only numbness remained.

  Grace was not completely certain what else she would say to Brian, beyond refusing to marry Ewan and requesting that she be escorted to the abbey by the end of the week. She only knew that she needed to present her request in a reasonable manner, thus giving her brother no other choice but to agree.

  Unfortunately, Brian was not alone when she found him. Ewan was by his side, the pair of them intently studying a large map spread across the table.

  “Excuse the interruption,” Grace said, hastily backing away. “I shall return when ye are unoccupied.”

  “Nay, come in, Grace.” Brian beckoned her with a waggle of his fingers. “Ewan and I were trying to locate his keep on the map.”

  “The property is so far north we cannae define the borders,” Ewan added cheerfully.

  They stared at her expectantly. Hastily, she moved forward and examined the map. “Are ye near the sea?” she asked, pointing to a fierce drawing of several sea monsters.

  “Not too close,” Ewan replied. “ ’Tis a half day’s ride, which affords us the pleasure of fresh fish from the ocean’s bounty with none of the dangers.”

  “’Tis a fine holding,” Brian said pointedly.

  “Indeed,” Grace replied, not liking the direction of the conversation.

  “Ye must see it fer yerself,” Ewan said invitingly.

  Grace stiffened. She could feel the sudden tension in the air and was sorry for it. But that did not prevent her from speaking.

  “Alas, that willnae be possible. I’ve come to tell my brother that I’d like to return to the abbey by week’s end,” she said, deliberately keeping her voice soft and devoid of all inflection. She would not be accused of making a womanly, emotional decision.

  “I’d hoped ye’d stay at least until Aileen’s babe is born,” Brian said.

  “That willnae be happening fer at least a month, maybe longer. I need to go now.”

  Brian sighed heavily. “Are ye certain?”

  “I am. ’Tis what I told ye I meant to do from the beginning and I’ve not changed my mind.” Grace felt her cheeks warm. “Sir Ewan is also aware of my decision.”

  From across the table she felt the force of Ewan’s disappointed gaze. She met his stare with imploring eyes, willing him to understand, and accept, her decision.

  True, she had not shared with him her intention to leave so soon, but she had never once led him to believe she would accept his marriage proposal. And yet, Ewan still stared at her dumbfounded. The tension that gripped him was obvious and she felt a pang of regret.

  Ewan was a good, decent man. She had no wish to cause him any upset. But the outcome was inevitable. ’Twas time—nay past time—for her to shed the ties to the outside world. Delaying it would serve no useful purpose.

  “I’ll not lie and say I’m pleased,” Brian said, with a deep note of regret in his voice.

  Grace lowered her gaze. She had never seen her brother so disappointed and she was distressed to be the cause of it.

  “I hope in time ye’ll understand,” Grace replied solemnly.

  It was impossible to remain calm while looking at Ewan, so Grace deliberately avoided his gaze. Then, having said what she came to tell her brother, she sank into a low curtsy, all the while ignoring the tiny voice inside her head that warned she was making a mistake, she was throwing away her only chance at true happiness with both hands. Legs shaking, she strode out the door and purposefully down the hall, telling herself she felt grateful to have gotten her way.

  If only the taste of victory were sweet, instead of filled with bitterness.

  The room was deadly silent after Grace left. Ewan glanced at Brian for answers, but the McKenna shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

  “I gave her my word that she could choose and thus she has made her decision. She’ll leave fer the abbey at the end of the week.”

  Damnation! He’d been close, so close. Ewan had nearly tasted victory, a triumph made all the more sweet because Grace would have been his bride. When he started this quest Ewan was honest enough to admit he would have married any woman in order to secure the well-being of his people.

  But now he wanted more. He wanted a woman he admired, a woman he could grow to love. He wanted Grace. But she didn’t want him.

  Time. That was what he needed. She was thawing toward him, even allowing herself to be charmed a bit, he was certain of it. If only he had a wee bit more time, he could change her mind.

  “Drink.”

  Ewan looked down at the tankard Brian offered, resisting the urge to grab it, throw it against the wall and shout out his frustrations. Instead, he tipped the vessel to his lips and drained it. Without being invited, he refilled it and took another long sip. Perhaps if he drank enough tankards, the sting of defeat would not feel so sharp.

  “No matter what she says, I cannae believe it’s what she truly wants,” Ewan muttered.

  “I’m as disappointed as ye,” Brian insisted. “Grace was raised in that abbey, knowing almost nothing of the outside world. She speaks little of her life as Ferguson’s wife, but I think she found some contentment. I thought once she tasted the freedom of being mistress of her own castle, she would again want her own home. I truly believed if anyone could get her to change her mind it would be ye.”

  Ewan made a slashing motion with his fist, his frustrations spilling over. “God’s bones! She prefers the life of a nun to a life with me. ’Tis a bitter pill to swallow.”

  Brian stroked his chin thoughtfully. “She’ll need an escort to the abbey,” he said mildly. “Especially with all this talk of Roderick Ferguson and his quest to rule his clan. I’ll take no chance with her safety.”

  Ewan failed to hide his impatience at the obvious remark. “Aye, ’tis yer duty to protect her from the marauders that travel the roads.”

  “But my men need training and we’ve started new fortifications to the south wall. I cannae spare enough of them to make a proper escort.”

  Ewan paused, his disappointment turning to curiosity. “Ye think to stall her leaving by denying Grace a contingent of men? I doubt that will work and I know it will anger yer wife if she believes ye are being devious.”

  “Aileen understands the importance of maintaining a castle’s defenses.”

  “She’ll not be fooled,” Ewan warned.

  “I would never be such a lack-wit as to try and pull the wool over my wife’s eyes.” Brian smiled. “I dinnae have the men to spare, but ye do. Do ye think ye are up to the task of leading Grace’s escort? It’s at least a four-day ride from here.”

  Ewan blew out a loud breath and then his lips parted into a wide grin. “Five or six days, depending on the route taken.”

  “Now that’s the spirit. What do ye say, Ewan? Will ye do it?”

  “With pleasure,” Ewan replied, certain the gratitude he felt was shining in his eyes.

  The day dawned gray and damp as Grace prepared to leave the castle. A variety of horses, carts, and men assembled near the stables as all was made ready. In addition to the packhorses that carried the food and tents they would need for the journey, there were carts carrying supplies to the nuns. Grace had seen to that packing personally, ensuring her presence would be an asset and not the burden of yet another mouth to feed at the convent.

  A gust of wind swirled as the sky darkened ominously and the clouds loomed full and low.

  “Ye could wait until tomorrow or the next day fer the weather to clear,” Aileen suggested, as she stepped gingerly into the courtyard.

  Grace shook her head. Delaying would only make it harder. “The rain will keep the dust at bay,” she reasoned. “Besides, the horses prefer riding on a cool day.”

  “’Tis not the
comfort of the horses I care about,” Aileen grumbled. “But I’m hardly surprised by yer answer. Despite yer pretty face and gentle voice, ye are as stubborn as every other McKenna that walks the earth.”

  “I shall miss ye also, Aileen.” Grace reached over and hugged her sister-in-law tightly. “Very much.”

  She felt a tug upon her sleeve and glanced down. Malcolm stood at her side, his face cautious. “When will I see ye again?” he asked.

  Grace bit her tongue, holding back the temptation to lie. “Not fer a very long time, I’m afraid. Why, ye’ll most likely be a man full grown the next time I set eyes on ye.”

  Grace expected the lad to swagger at the notion, but instead his brow knit together in a frown.

  “Why do ye have to leave?” James asked with a sniffle. “Don’t ye like us anymore?”

  “I love ye!” Grace proclaimed. “All of ye. But my place is at the abbey.”

  “I dinnae want ye to go,” Katherine cried, flinging herself forward. She clasped her arms around Grace’s knees and held on tightly.

  “Oh, dearest.” Helplessly, Grace searched for assistance. Heaving an impatient sigh, her brother came forward. It took him a few moments to pry Katherine’s fingers open. The moment he succeeded, he lifted the little girl into his arms. She hung on to him, burying her face in his shoulder.

  “I dinnae suppose that ye’ll be changing yer mind?” Brian asked, his mouth turning into a grim line when she shook her head. “Then I’ll be wishing ye Godspeed on yer journey, Sister. Always remember ye’ve a home here with us, if ye ever have the need.”

  Brian’s arm felt as hard as granite when he hugged her. “Thank ye. Fer everything,” Grace whispered in his ear, before pulling away.

  She wanted to say more, but could not, as the words congealed into a cold lump in her throat. Tears filled her eyes as she mounted her palfrey. Grace brushed them away with her gloved hand and forced a smile. She would not have her family’s final memory be of her riding away with red, weepy eyes and a grim expression.