The Highlander's Enchantment Read online

  Up close, he was even taller, and she had to practically crane her neck to look up at him. He was broad enough to block out the great hall in front of her, leaving only enough room for her to look at the sweep of his muscled chest and shoulders, the thickness of his neck. The squareness of his jaw and line of his nose, marred by a bump where it had broken probably more than once. And that scar… A jagged line that spoke of danger, bravery and survival. Rather than detract from his striking visage, the scar added to it.

  She found herself staring at him, wide-eyed but not afraid, rather…awestruck. When her eyes traveled to his, a flicker of vulnerability passed through them. Quick enough that if she hadn’t been studying him, she wouldn’t have noticed it. And the longer she held his gaze, the more intensely he stared, and the more her heart started to pound in a way she’d never felt before. Almost a fluttering. And her breath…it was coming erratically, as though she were drowning in the depths of his gaze and the power that emanated from him.

  “My lady.” His voice was a deep caress that sent her already pounding heart and irregular breathing into a tailspin. Her mouth went dry. Was she dreaming? Because in the story she’d made up, a warrior, powerful and handsome would come to her rescue and take her away for a life of bliss…

  The warrior bent at the waist, managing to be elegant at the same time he was formidable. How did he move his body so effortlessly? When he straightened, his words rumbled out of his chest, nearly vibrating through her. “I am Laird Rose.”

  Blair opened her mouth to speak, but no words wanted to push forth. Heat suffused her face. She licked her lips. Cleared her throat. Rushed to offer him her hand. Finally, her voice decided to make itself known. “I’m Lady Blair.”

  The hint of a smile crossed his mouth, drawing her attention to the tantalizing curve. “Ah, the infamous Blair.” He took her hand in his, warm and rough against her skin, and brought it toward his mouth. Eyes on her, his lips hovered over the flesh of her knuckles, heated breath fanning over her skin, making her feel like she might just fall in a pool of skirts and thrumming skin. “But I daresay whoever has called ye Blair the Not So Fair, has not done ye justice, for ye’re verra beautiful.”

  Heat slapped hard against her cheeks, and her heart skipped a beat so violently she could have been shoved.

  No one had ever called her beautiful. And from the look in his gaze, he was very serious. Laird Rose did not appear to be a man with a penchant for lies… She could tell from looking at him, at his demeanor, that he was a man who considered honor above all things to be of the utmost importance.

  Which gave her pause. Because how would he feel when he found out the truth of the missive?

  “Ye flatter me, my laird.”

  “I tell the truth.”

  As she suspected… Was he emphasizing the word truth? Or was that all part of her imagination?

  Blair swallowed around the lump in her throat and delicately tugged her hand away from his, only aware just then that he’d still held it. “It was a pleasure to meet ye, my laird.” Saints, but she had to get away from him, if only to draw in a decent breath. She started to walk around him, to find her brother, or anyone really who didn’t make her heart pound as he did.

  But as she passed, his long fingers slipped around hers once more, and she didn’t resist when he placed her hand on his arm. Zounds… the muscles bunching beneath his shirt had her heart pounding harder. Was this why Aurora went wild for the men as thickly muscled as Laird Rose?

  “May I escort ye to the table?” But he wasn’t asking. In fact, he was already walking, leading her toward the trestle table up on the dais at the front of the great hall where her brother and their family always sat.

  She should be irritated that he wouldn’t wait for her answer, but truth be told, she would have said aye, because within seconds of spotting him across the hall, she was fairly certain she would do anything he asked. Which was extremely dangerous…

  “Thank ye,” she murmured, for what else could she say?

  When they reached the table, he led her to a seat, pulled it out for her and took the one right beside her. It was then she noticed the extra chair. This man had been invited to dine at the head table.

  What was happening?

  Her mother sat down on the other side of her, but Liam had yet to make an appearance. It would seem her brother wanted to prolong her torment. Aislinn and Aurora whispered behind their hands, their eyes shifting from Blair to the man beside her in an obvious way before they took their seats on the other side of him.

  Well, that was a saving grace. At least they might distract him from talking to her.

  A pang of discomfort sliced through her gut, and for a moment, she wanted to shove a good several feet of space between her lad-hungry cousins and the interesting new laird. Oh, dear… Was that jealousy? She’d never experienced it before, but if pressed to identify the burning in her gut, the irrational desire to put herself between Laird Rose and her cousins, to…claim him for her own… Aye, she was indeed jealous.

  Blair sat ramrod straight, not even allowing her spine to touch her chair.

  And then her brother entered the great hall and headed straight for their table, avoiding her gaze the entire way. Goodness, she’d never seen Liam without a smile on his face, though she was certain there were times. He was always so jovial, especially when in the presence of his family and his lovely wife.

  It would appear, however, that her torment was going to continue.

  Blair couldn’t decide if she was more uncomfortable with the fact her brother wouldn’t look at her, or with the fact that everyone seemed perfectly all right with the man sitting beside her. Not two hours ago, they’d all been running for their lives.

  Was she the only one confused?

  Gazing out over the people slowly taking their places at the tables, she could see the wary glances between the Ross-Sutherland people and the newcomers. There were about twenty of them, all tall and rugged like their leader. They sipped their ale and kept their gazes on the warriors in the room, as if expecting a brawl would break out at any moment.

  She didn’t blame them. She felt the very same way.

  This was madness, wasn’t it?

  The whole left side of her was thrumming with heat—his heat.

  Blair shifted her gaze to her brother as he pulled out a chair for Cora on the opposite side of Lady Arbella. When he was seated, the servants brought out dishes of roasted venison and carrots, freshly baked bread, mountains of freshly churned butter, mutton pie, mushroom and herb pies and stewed greens with turnips.

  Normally, Blair would have picked delicately at her food, but eating was a distraction now from the seemingly mad world she’d been dropped into, so she cut off large pieces of meat and asked for a double scoop of butter for her bread—though she did avoid the mutton pie as she was not a fan of eating animals she deemed pets.

  Indeed, curled up in the barn with the hounds was her beloved Bluebell. The ivory fleece of her body was soft as a cloud, and black on her face was marked with one large white ring around her eye. She had the disposition of, well, a lamb.

  “Riders!” The call from the doors of the great hall had everyone stilling in their seats, and before Blair could even take a breath, Liam had his dagger at Laird Rose’s throat. Laird Rose barely moved, as though he didn’t recognize the threat of a blade that could end his life.

  The Sutherland men followed suit, drawing their weapons, and every Rose warrior in attendance found a steel dagger at their throats.

  The lump of bread in Blair’s mouth was dry and heavy. She couldn’t summon the strength to chew. The thought of swallowing made her want to gag. If she weren’t so stunned, she might have spit it out, or at least taken a sip of wine to help her swallow, but as it was, she’d turned halfway in her chair, eyes trained on the cut-from-marble profile of Laird Rose. The muscle in the side of his jaw flexed and his scar went gone white, but those were the only indications he was aware there was a blad
e at his throat.

  “Who comes?” her brother growled.

  Laird Rose pressed his hands flat to the table, eyes steady, face firm. “I dinna know. My party is all accounted for. Do ye think we’d so readily surrender our weapons, and allow your blades at our throats if we planned for an attack?”

  Liam did not remove the knife as he nodded at one of his guards. “Go and see.”

  His man leapt from his position and rushed from the great hall.

  “What have I done?” Blair murmured, fingers inching up toward her throat.

  What was supposed to have been a childish game and fanciful bit of whimsy was turning out to be a momentous mess that she would never live down.

  In fact, someone in this room might not live at all.

  Chapter 8

  Edan kept very still.

  The trust he and Liam Sutherland had tentatively formed was in danger of being broken very quickly. He had no idea who was riding on the castle, but it was extremely unfortunate timing for him. Because if it was a foe, Liam would never believe that Edan wasn’t involved.

  He’d be lucky if Liam didn’t just kill him right now before waiting to find out who approached.

  No one would blame him—not even Edan himself.

  He would, however, not go down without a fight. Nay, if Liam attacked him, Eden would use the knife and fork beside his trencher to first jab Liam in the eye and then between his ribs. They’d both go down, Edan’s death a surety and Liam’s life hanging in the balance.

  Dinna move, he told himself, his fingers itching to grasp the eating utensils and see this moment through.

  Beside Edan, Lady Blair had grown very still as well. Edan had enjoyed watching her shovel bite after bite into her mouth to avoid conversation or eye contact with him. The way she’d pause every few moments just to stare. She fascinated him. The lass had not been scared or disgusted by his scar at all. Instead, she’d regarded him rather boldly and with something akin to awe, which he found impossible. Not a single woman had looked on him like that after he’d fallen beneath the sword.

  And damn if he hadn’t been enjoying that. But all joyful thoughts were gone now that the steely edge of a blade touched his neck, a hair’s breadth away from drawing blood.

  “Dinna do anything hasty, Sutherland,” Edan said in his calmest voice. “I swear I know not who approaches.”

  Liam only grunted, the veins in his neck pulsing. Sweat beaded at Edan’s temple and slowly trickled down the side of his face.

  “I dinna believe in coincidences.”

  “Neither did I until a few days ago,” Edan countered softly. “But look where we are now.”

  “I was a fool to have let ye in,” Liam growled.

  “Nay, friend.” Edan emphasized their bond. “We are both warriors for Scotland, followers of the same king. I believed ye when ye said ye didna kill my brother. Mayhap we can still work together to find out who did.”

  He was negotiating, and not well, but he hoped to solidify the trust he had in Liam, to get the bloody dagger away from his neck.

  Again, Liam grunted. He didn’t pull the dagger away, but no longer was Edan’s skin warming the blade.

  What felt like an eternity later, the guard Liam had sent to the gates returned. “’Tis the Earl of Sutherland returned, my laird.”

  The entire great hall let out a collective sigh—Edan included, though his was not audible. Liam withdrew his dagger from Edan’s neck, and his men did the same to the Rose warriors. Liam slapped Edan on the shoulder and gave a short, almost embarrassed laugh.

  “Apologies, Laird Rose. Tension is higher in the room than anticipated, aye?”

  Edan did not smile. He rose from his chair, his face not revealing anything as he did so. “Completely understandable, given our introduction. However, I would have hoped our earlier understanding would have held some merit, that ye might have asked afore ye put a knife at my throat. And I’m sure ye’ll understand now, why my men and I will have to excuse ourselves?”

  Liam fixed an even gaze on Edan. “I would prefer ye stay, Rose. Greet my da, the Earl of Sutherland. Maybe he will have information regarding your brother.”

  “With all due respect, Sutherland,” Edan’s throat tightened when he spoke, “ye held a dagger to my throat without question. Who’s to say the next rider willna have ye doing the same?”

  “And ye rode upon my castle on the word of criminals and a silly chit.”

  Lady Blair gasped, and Edan felt a sudden pang of guilt. He wanted to protect her, which was not his place. If her brother wanted to call her silly, which he very much thought himself after the confusion, then so be it. Why should he care? God, why did he care?

  “All the same, ’tis probably best we left.”

  Just then, the Earl of Sutherland entered the great hall to cheers from all the Sutherlands present. His wife, the lovely Lady Arbella, stood from her chair and glided across the hall to greet him.

  When Edan glanced toward Lady Blair, her chair was empty. He caught sight of her edging around the room, trying to make her escape.

  His first impulse was to go after her, to demand answers. To question why the hell she would pull a stunt that could have ended in bloodshed. In fact, he shoved his chair backward, hard enough the scrape of the legs against the floorboards of the dais echoed up into the rafters.

  The Earl of Sutherland’s gaze fell on Edan then, and the smile that filled his face fell before recognition hit. They’d met more than once at Stirling, and Edan had always held the earl in high regard. In fact, as a lad, he’d looked upon the man as a sort of idol. Every wee sprite in training wanted to be Magnus Sutherland, Edan included.

  “Sir Edan?”

  “Aye. Laird of Rose, now.”

  “Ah.” The earl’s face shuttered. “I did hear about your brother. My condolences to your clan.”

  Edan gritted his teeth to keep from asking what the earl had heard. That was better suited to a private conversation, rather than under the scrutiny of the entire great hall.

  He approached the earl, bowed as was due the man’s placement in their realm, and accepted the earl’s nod of approval.

  “What brings ye to Castle Ross?” Magnus asked.

  Edan shifted his gaze to Liam, who looked grim. The man clearly did not want to be the bearer of news regarding his sister’s deed, nor that Edan had suspected him of being behind Connor’s death.

  “A misunderstanding,” Edan offered. “We are on our way back to Rose lands.”

  “What misunderstanding?” the earl asked, ignoring Edan’s blatant request to be dismissed. The way Magnus was eyeing him, and the tone of his voice, suggested he would not allow Edan to leave until all had been revealed.

  Edan respected the man immeasurably, which made it even harder to say what he did next. “I’ll leave that to Liam to discuss with ye, my laird.”

  The earl gave a very short shake of his head. “Nay, I’d hear it from ye.”

  Bloody hell. “Then perhaps it would be best if we spoke in private.” Edan scanned the room in case his meaning wasn’t clear.

  “I agree.” The earl no longer looked placid. A hardness had come into his eyes. He didn’t like that Edan hadn’t been willing to share, and probably more so that his son hadn’t either.

  Edan had witnessed the man on the battlefield, though he hadn’t had the honor of fighting in his unit. Still, he knew he’d never want to be at the end of Magnus Sutherland’s sword.

  Edan nodded to his men to remain behind as he followed the earl out of the great hall with Liam at his side.

  When they reached Liam’s study, the earl paced toward the window and stared out as the clouds slowly rolled in, darkening what had started out as a beautiful spring morning. In the distance, the mountains loomed, their icy caps grazing the sky. The scent of salty sea air filtered on the breeze that was picking up speed.

  “Storm’s coming,” Magnus said. “Looks like it will be a bad one. Ye and your men had best stay behind.�
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  Edan raised a brow that said he knew the man was stalling. “We are not unused to storms. We’re Highlanders.”

  Magnus chuckled. “Good answer.” Leaning back against the windowsill, he crossed his arms over his chest, still filled with muscle despite his age. Streaks of silver ran through his gold-ginger hair. How had Blair come by her lustrous raven locks when both her parents were fair? “Now, let’s quit the small talk and tell me why ye came. What was the misunderstanding?”

  Edan felt alike a lad being scolded for some deed he had not committed. Taking up a similar stance by the door, arms crossed, eyes steady, he explained to Magnus about the death of his brother, and what the prisoners had confessed. “I didna act immediately, as I knew the reputation of the Sutherlands and their relationship with the king. I would never take the word of an outlaw over that of a man of honor. I couldna believe that any of ye would try to murder a laird in order to gain his lands.”

  “Ye’d be correct,” Magnus said without hesitation.

  “I’ve continued looking into the death of my brother, and I’ve come up empty so far. Then we received a strange missive.” He shifted his gaze to Liam. “From your daughter, Blair.”

  Magnus uncrossed his arms and took a step forward. “What kind of missive? How do ye know it was her? How does she know ye?” The last question was growled as if Edan had spent time climbing walls and sneaking into Blair’s chamber in order to defile her with no one the wiser. “Have ye taken advantage of my daughter?”

  Standing his ground, Edan explained, “She signed her name. And I had no knowledge of her afore I received the missive. I swear to ye, on the lives of my clansmen.”

  “I read it. ’Tis her hand,” Liam offered. “I take full responsibility for her having sent it under my watch.”

  Magnus cast his son a glance. “Did ye have knowledge of the letter?”

  “Nay.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Edan pulled the bottle from his sporran and crossed the room to hand it to the earl.