The Highlander's Enchantment Read online

  Edan looked behind him at his men, who had all dismounted and were eyeing the guards around the bailey warily.

  “Come,” Liam said, his voice full of authority, and the men glanced at Edan for approval.

  Edan nodded to his men and walked beside Liam into the castle. In the great hall, none of the maidens he’d seen dancing on the moors were present, but servants scurried back and forth preparing the long trencher tables for a feast. The scents of the impending meal made Edan’s mouth water. He’d barely eaten since leaving his castle the day before.

  “Please, make yourself at home.” Liam flagged down a female servant. “See that our guests have some ale afore the feast begins.”

  The servant nodded and then snapped her fingers at a few lassies holding tankards, who made quick work of pouring them cups and passing them out.

  A lovely blond woman approached and slipped her arm through Liam’s. He looked startled to see her in the great hall, as though he’d not expected her to be present. How curious. Edan studied her. She was beautiful, elegant, and watched Liam with respect and clearly love. His wife, if Edan had to guess.

  “Who are your guests?” She smiled at them, though it did not reach her eyes. Though her gaze scanned over his scar, she did not falter, nor did she stare.

  Edan tried his best to hold in his surprise at both her decorum and her accent. Liam’s wife was a Sassenach. Interesting, given the man was known for his duties of governing the border for the king. How had he come to marry a woman he should ostensibly hate? Though, just by looking at her, with her kind eyes and beautiful smile, Edan could guess.

  “Laird Edan Rose and his men. This is my wife, Lady Cora, Mistress of Clan Ross.”

  She glanced up at her husband, then swept her eyes over the men, assessing. “Welcome to our home.”

  “My thanks for your hospitality, and I do apologize for frightening any of the maidens with our hasty approach. I assure ye, my lady, frightening lassies is not a hobby of mine.” Edan bent at the waist, brushing a kiss over her extended knuckles.

  A slight blush colored her cheeks, her lashes dipping. “I’m certain they will be pleased to hear it from you, as they’ll be joining us for the feast.”

  Again, Liam jerked his gaze down, as though he’d been wanting to change this part of the evening festivities. Perhaps he did not want the maidens to mingle with the newcomers, and had Edan been in his boots, he would have felt the same way. Alas, Edan was glad for Lady Cora’s intervention, for it meant he would indeed have a chance to lay eyes on the woman whose missive had brought him here.

  “I would request that your men disarm themselves,” Lady Cora said, her eyes scanning his heavily armored men. She swept her arm out to indicate the Sutherland and Ross warriors. “You see, they are not so armed inside our walls. And we assure you that you’ll be safe here. But to see a man sitting at the table with his sword still strapped to his back may give some of our ladies a bit of a start.”

  Edan inclined his head. Was this Liam’s plan all along? Have his wife disarm them so he wouldn’t think too much of it? He eyed the other warrior a moment, trying to make the assessment, but Liam kept his thoughts close. “We will honor your request, my lady.” He nodded to his men, who set down their ales and strode outside to leave their weapons in the bailey, and he did the same.

  The bailey was quiet. Those who resided in the castle eyed them warily, and it made his skin crawl a little to be so closely watched, as though he were the nightmare that haunted children’s dreams. He tried smiling a few times, but it felt more like a grimace, and judging by the way it had some women fleeing, it looked that way too. A grimace plus his scar was mighty intimidating.

  Once they were back inside, Lady Cora had once more disappeared, and Liam stood by the hearth, a frustrated look on his face. So when they were outside divesting themselves of their weapons, had he convinced his wife the women should not dine with the men? Edan couldn’t fault him if that was his decision. After all, what did Liam really know of him other than the word he’d given?

  When Liam spotted him, he motioned Edan forward with a short gesture of his hand.

  “The women will be down in a moment, as will my sister.”

  Edan raised a brow, taking the cup of ale Liam offered him. He sipped the lukewarm brew.

  “’Tis not what I want. But without my da here to provide his opinion, I find myself in charge of my sister’s fate. Perhaps it will do her good to see what her folly has wrought. I will say nothing to her of the missive and see if she doesna confess it herself.”

  Edan said nothing.

  “I need not say that one wrong move on your part, and I’ll have your head.”

  “Ye need not. ’Tis understood.”

  “Then while we wait, tell me about these men who claim I sent them to murder Connor.”

  Chapter 7

  Blair’s teeth were still chattering, and the prickles of a chill remained along the lengths of her arms, no matter how much she sought to warm herself. She’d long since divested herself of the damp, dew-covered night rail. She’d stood before the hearth until her skin turned pink from the heat, dressed fully in her hose, chemise, gown and boots, and then put herself back before the thriving hearth.

  She shouldn’t be shivering, and yet she was. An ache had developed in her jaw from trying to clamp her teeth closed to stop the chattering.

  This, she reasoned, was because of the man she’d seen flying over the hill on horseback. The one who’d led his men on what looked to be a siege of her castle, and the fact that he’d so loudly called out her name.

  But not just her name. Nay, he’d called out the moniker she’d given herself in a letter that she’d burned.

  When she’d come inside, she’d looked for her cousins, but they were nowhere to be found. Hiding, no doubt, for they had to have been the ones to copy her message and send it out into the firth. Cowards.

  The stranger was in the great hall. She wished she’d gotten a better look at him, for she could barely piece together his features from the distance at which she’d seen him. All she knew was that his hair was dark, and he was very, very large.

  The clang of battle did not ensue, nor any shouts of pain. So they had not been attacked. And now all was silent.

  She’d strained to hear what was happening, leaning slightly out of the window. Had begged her maid to seek out information from the guards who might know, but Liam’s words with the stranger had carried on the wind, and none of the guards were talking. Her mother had stopped by to check on her and make sure she wasn’t too traumatized by the incident, but Blair’s few subtle questions had revealed nothing. Her mother had no information about who the man was, or why he was here. And thankfully, she had not been informed that he’d called out for Blair.

  A soft knock sounded at the door, and Cora entered, eyes filled with compassion as she swept her gaze over Blair. She knew the truth. Had to. Else why would she wear that expression?

  “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” she said.

  “I feel as though I might have.” What was the use in keeping it in when Cora would already know the truth—that he’d asked for Blair by name. Liam told his wife everything. Theirs was a marriage Blair would very much like to emulate.

  “What do you mean?”

  Was it possible that Liam had not said anything? Blair cocked her head to the side, wrinkling her nose. Cora sauntered casually to the window and stared out, watching something below that gave her a measure of pleasure, based on the small smile on her lips.

  “The warrior…he called my name,” Blair said softly.

  “Oh, aye,” Cora murmured, glancing over her shoulder at Blair before returning her gaze to the bailey below. “I did hear about that. Odd, is it nay? Do you know him, then?”

  Blair shook her head, forcing her heavy feet toward the window. What was it that had Cora so intrigued? And how was it possible that Liam hadn’t told her about the missive? Was it possible the stranger had not
revealed where he’d gotten her name? “I’ve never met him before. I dinna even know what he looks like.”

  “How do you think he knew your name?” She was still peering very pointedly at the bailey. “And he was very…tall.”

  Aye, Blair could tell that by the way he almost dwarfed the men who rode beside him.

  But she was still mesmerized by the fact he might have kept the evidence about her missive a secret. Goodness… Her mind was whirling. She’d burned that letter! How was this even happening?

  Blair bit her lip, not wanting to answer Cora’s question and feeling heat climb to her cheeks, along with a solid pain in her temples. Other than her, Aislinn and Aurora were the only ones who knew about the message in the bottle, and if they told what they knew, they’d have to admit to much more than simply being aware of the missive.

  Cora turned her attention back to Blair, whatever she’d been looking at in the bailey no longer holding her interest.

  “A coincidence?” Blair said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe I heard wrong.”

  “We all heard him. Did we all hear wrong?” Cora’s attention was now firmly on Blair, her eyes narrowed, and her arms crossed. She looked the way Blair’s mother did when she was trying to get the truth out of Greer.

  Blair sank onto her bed, flopping back and covering her eyes with the heels of her hands, impervious to the wrinkles she was putting into her gown.

  “You said it was your fault. What did you mean?” Cora’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it.

  Whatever stalling tactic Blair tried to employ—which she was admittedly without talent for—Cora would break through.

  At any moment, she expected her mother to come into the room, to demand answers after having finally heard what happened, but for some reason, she’d not yet come.

  “I’m too embarrassed to say,” Blair finally answered.

  Cora sat down beside her and took Blair’s hands away from her eyes. “I held a secret for a long time that endangered my family, and maybe even yours. Telling the truth is always best if the chance of strife can be avoided.”

  Blair let her hands fall and blinked teary eyes at Cora. “My mother will never forgive me, and my father will think me a lass of less morals than my own cousins.”

  Cora’s eyes widened at that, and she let out a laugh. “Less morals than Amorous Aurora?”

  Blair let out a loud groan. “Is that what she’s being called? Och, but that is so awful.”

  “Aye, I feel bad for the chit, but I think she may have kissed every eligible bachelor in the keep, and the maids see all. Liam has much to tell their father when he returns.”

  “Her mother has threatened her with the convent, too.”

  “Both of them. Might do them some good. I was housed in a convent once many years ago. ’Twas not overlong, and I was not a lass of ill morality, but I did hold secrets, and having time to reflect on them made me a better person.”

  “I did something terrible,” Blair said, suddenly feeling the need to confess. “And I am nay normally terrible. Or maybe I am.” She shook her head, wiped angrily at the tears that had started to trek down her cheeks. “I have always prided myself on doing the right thing, and the one time I slipped—this happened.” She spread her arms out, in essence encapsulating all of the troubles at the castle currently.

  “Perhaps we can fix it. The men are being amiable now. No blood has been shed.”

  “Amiable? How?”

  “They are divesting of their weapons in the bailey as we speak. I came up to get ye.”

  “Get me?” Blair shook her head so hard her newly wound knot came undone to whip tendrils against her cheeks. “Nay, I canna.”

  Cora gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand your reservations, Blair, but we must always face our fears. Especially when the man came specifically to Ross to find ye. How was it he knew ye were here?”

  Blair squeezed her eyes shut again. “’Tis impossible, and yet it has happened. Only by the grace of an evil tricking hand.”

  Cora sucked in a harsh breath. “What has happened, Blair?”

  Misery encompassed her. She needed to talk to someone, couldn’t hold this in. Not if she was going to face the men downstairs. “I wrote something. It was silly. A game, really. I never thought anyone would actually find it, else I wouldna have done so. I burned it… Or else, I thought I burned it. I can remember very vividly tossing it in the fire, and yet, he has found it.”

  “You think sorcery?” Cora looked very worried now. “Such things dinna exist, Blair.”

  Blair sighed, knowing that indeed, it had been a very live and unmagical being that had dealt her this hand. “Nay. I think Aurora.”

  “How?”

  “’Twas she and Aislinn who encouraged me. I thought I tricked them by throwing an empty bottle into the firth and burning the missive, but either they switched it, or they copied it, and now it has fallen into the wrong hands.”

  “What did it say?” Cora asked softly.

  “I dinna remember exactly. I wrote in riddles.”

  “Try to remember…” she urged.

  “It was something about needing to be saved from the chains that bound me, from a captor who kept me prisoner.”

  Cora gasped, her hand fluttering to her throat, realizing that in her idiotic missive, Blair had essentially accused Liam of holding her captive. “Why?”

  “It was a game!” Saints, but she felt wretched. “And not at all what I meant. I am not a prisoner here, nor am I chained. It was…fiction, a metaphor. I was trying to be like Bella.”

  “She has tossed messages out to sea?” Cora looked doubly horrified.

  “Nay…” Blair stood abruptly, lacking air, needing her brother. “I must speak to Liam. He has to understand I didna mean to bring a siege to his castle.”

  A soft knock had them both jolting, their gazes fixed on the door.

  “Blair?” It was her mother, voice full of concern.

  Blair jumped from the bed, swiped at her tears and rushed to the door. She opened it quickly and grasped her mother to tug her inside and shut the door swiftly again.

  “This has all been a mistake, a terrible mistake,” Blair rushed. “I need to go home, to Dunrobin, now! Mama, please.” She ignored the desperation in her voice, ready to get down on her knees to beg her mother.

  Lady Arbella shook her head somberly. “We cannot leave just yet, my love. There is a feast.”

  “I dinna want to feast. I want to go home.”

  Lady Arbella’s smile softened. “And earlier today, you wished for a husband.”

  “What?” Blair said, exasperated.

  “You did—do you not recall what you said to me on the stairs earlier?”

  Blair thought back to the stairs, the way her mother had looked at her, and the way she’d so lovingly placed the bluebell crown on her head. Where was that, anyway? She’d lost it on the field.

  “You said you were wishing for a lad, and then to your brother you said he’d be walking through the gates any day now. I thought you were expecting this?” Lady Arbella looked truly perplexed now. “It was rather unconventional of you, and I am not at all pleased about it, nor will your father be, but alas, it has happened. Where did the two of you meet? How did he know to come?”

  Blair thought her head might explode. Just pop right off her neck. Her mother didn’t sound like her mother at all.

  With a huffed breath, she let out a long sigh and a groan, and rushed to the window to see if the men were still there. They weren’t, and their horses had been safely tucked into the stables.

  “Let me escape,” she whispered on the wind.

  “We are wanted in the great hall,” Lady Arbella said. “That is what I came to tell you.”

  “Oh, I feel like a terrible hostess,” Cora said, rushing toward the door.

  “Do not fret, my dear,” Lady Arbella said, “they will not start without you.”

  The shivering returned with a vengeance, and t
hen just as swiftly, Blair got a hold of herself, squared her shoulders and bit down hard enough to break a stone, if it had been between her teeth.

  Cora was right. It was better to be honest, and Blair had always told others to face their fears, to be strong, to be truthful. That was what she needed to do as well.

  Even if it scared the bloody wits out of her.

  Good God… What were people going to think? Given all she’d said, they would think she’d planned this.

  Well, she hadn’t, even if she was inadvertently responsible. All she had to do was go below stairs, tell this man—whoever he was—that it was all a mistake, a silly game. And apologize to Liam.

  Then she’d excuse herself, request an immediate visit with the priest and demand her penance. She was certain to pay dearly.

  With her head held high, she exited the chamber and approached the stairs. She ignored the way her knees attempted to wobble, and that she had to hold on extra hard to the roped railing.

  The closer they drew to the great hall, the louder it got. When she finally reached the door, feeling the presence of her mother and Cora behind her, Blair found it hard to draw breath. Even still, she pushed forward, searching the crowd for her brother, her eyes landing on one man in particular. Goodness, but he was tall. Like a mountain or a tree in their great hall… He was brutally handsome in a way she couldn’t describe, because he shouldn’t be so.

  His hair was as dark as hers, and his eyes a storm-filled gray, made meaner by the slash of a wicked scar that started on his forehead and ended in the middle of his cheek. He wasn’t smiling. Nay, his wide, perfectly shaped mouth sat in a set line; his dark, stubbled jaw tight. Ordinarily, she would look away, intimidated by his sheer presence. Saints, she might even run. If she were smart, she would, for certain. But she didn’t. She didn’t even look away. Her feet remained rooted in place as he approached her. Heart pounding, she gripped her skirts to absorb the slickness on her palms, but also because she needed to hold on to something, to focus herself, instead of falling in a wretched puddle.