The Bride

  Daniel grinned. “They’re both daft.”

  “Aye, they are,” Alec agreed. “We’ve been friends too long to let women force a breach between us. I’ve come to you in good faith, Daniel, to ask . . . nay, to demand you return to my holding and collect your wife.”

  “Have I just been given a command?” Daniel asked, grinning.

  “You have.”

  “And if I still ache for a fight?”

  “Then I will accommodate you,” Alec drawled. “But the rules will have to be changed.”

  Daniel was intrigued by the laughter in Alec’s voice. “How?”

  “Winner takes both brides.”

  Daniel threw back his head and shouted with laughter. Alec had helped him save face in front of his men. He’d allowed him to back down without looking like a loser. “You wouldn’t give up your prize, Alec, but it warms my heart to know you aren’t having such an easy time with your wife, either.”

  “She’ll settle in.”

  “I have my doubts about Mary.”

  “A firm hand is all that’s needed, Daniel.”

  Daniel dismissed his soldiers before answering Alec’s comment. “A firm hand and a gag, Alec. The woman hasn’t quit complaining since we reached my home. Do you know, she actually took exception to the fact I have a mistress?”

  Alec smiled. “They’re funny that way,” he said.

  “Perhaps I’ll let her stay with Jamie . . .”

  “There would be war then, Daniel. Mary belongs to you.”

  “You should have seen the pair of them, Alec.” He withdrew his sword from the ground, replaced it in his sheath before adding, “Your wife was protecting Mary, all the while hurling insults at me. She called me a pig.”

  “You’ve been called worse.”

  “Aye, but only by men, and they didn’t live long enough to boast of it.”

  “My wife has a temper,” Alec admitted, smiling.

  “I wish some of it would rub off on Mary. The woman acts like a frightened rabbit.”

  “I was in the midst of tracking down Angus’s attackers when I was informed of this problem,” Alec said, turning the topic.

  “We heard what happened,” Daniel answered. “What say I ride with you on this hunt? I understand the mountain barons were responsible?” Daniel asked, referring to the band of men who’d been cast out of their clans and had formed a unit of their own. They were called barons because it was a title the English valued, and therefore the most offensive name the Highlanders could come up with. It was fitting as well, for like the English, these mountain men were also blackguards who fought without honor or conscience.

  “You’re welcome to come along, Daniel, but first you must take Mary home. You can catch up with us near the Peak.”

  Neither Alec nor Daniel spoke again until they’d reached Alec’s home. Jamie was standing next to her sister in the center of the courtyard. She smiled when she saw her husband until she got a good look at his face. Her smile faded away then.

  “Oh, God, Daniel looks as if he wants to kill me,” Mary whispered, moving closer to her sister’s side.

  “Smile, Mary, it will confuse him,” Jamie instructed.

  Alec dismounted and slowly advanced toward his wife. He certainly wasn’t smiling. God’s truth, his expression could have curdled milk. Jamie took a deep breath. “Have you finished your hunt, Alec?”

  He ignored her question. “Did you give Lady Ferguson sanctuary?”

  “Sanctuary?” Jamie repeated. “I hadn’t quite thought of it in that light, husband.”

  “Answer me.”

  The anger in his tone burned her like a hot iron. Jamie’s temper ignited. How dare he criticize her in front of their guests? “Mary asked me if she could stay here, and I gave her permission,” she said. “If you want to call it sanctuary, then by all means do so. I would protect Mary.”

  “Protect her from her own husband?” Alec asked, looking incredulous.

  “When the husband happens to be an unfeeling clout, aye,” Jamie answered. She paused to frown up at Daniel, then turned back to her husband. “He has abused her tender feelings, Alec. What would you have had me do?”

  “I’d have you mind your own affairs,” Alec snapped.

  “He was cruel to her.”

  “Aye, he was,” Mary shouted, catching her sister’s fever. “If it isn’t convenient for me to stay here, then I’ll find my way back to England.”

  “I just might lead the way,” Jamie muttered. She folded her hands together and waited for Alec to respond to that threat.

  “You’d end up in Normandy,” Alec predicted.

  Before Jamie could answer, Alec turned to Mary. He glared at her until she left his wife’s side; then he hauled Jamie into his arms. His grip was like steel. Jamie didn’t resist, knowing how futile that would be. Besides, she’d just spotted Father Murdock standing on the steps, watching them.

  She certainly didn’t want a man of the cloth to think she was unladylike.

  “I’m not going home with you, Daniel,” Mary shouted.

  That challenge didn’t go unanswered. Daniel moved with astonishing speed for such a big man. Before Mary could let out a full scream, she found herself face down over her husband’s lap in the saddle.

  Jamie desperately tried to maintain her dignity through this monstrous situation. Poor Mary was draped over the saddle like a sack of barley. It was a humiliation, aye, but Jamie still wished Mary wouldn’t carry on so. Her bellows of outrage were drawing even more attention to her sorry plight.

  “I can’t stand idle while he shames her this way,” Jamie whispered.

  “Oh, yes you can,” Alec stated.

  “Alec, do something.”

  “I’m not going to interfere and neither are you,” he answered. “Mary’s getting off lightly, Jamie. Daniel’s temper is almost as fierce as my own. Your sister has disgraced her husband.”

  Jamie watched Daniel and Mary until they’d disappeared across the planks.

  “He won’t really hurt her, will he, Alec?”

  Her fear was very evident. Alec thought it unreasonable. “He won’t beat her, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” he answered. “Mary’s his problem now.”

  “She forgot her horse.”

  “She won’t be needing it.”

  Jamie was staring up at Alec’s mouth, remembering what it felt like to be kissed by him. It was such a foolish thought, especially now, what with Mary’s problem still to be solved, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “Perhaps I shall take her horse over to her tomorrow,” Jamie said, wondering how she could get him to kiss her again.

  He let go of her and started to walk away. She didn’t want him to leave just yet. “Alec? You said Daniel’s temper was almost as quick as your own, yet you told me you didn’t have a temper. ’Tis an odd contradiction, don’t you think?”

  “You misunderstood,” Alec answered. “I told you I wouldn’t lose my temper with you.”

  He started down the hill. Jamie picked up her skirts and chased after him. “When do you lose your temper, then?”

  He couldn’t resist the temptation. His wife was so incredibly easy to bait. He didn’t turn around because he didn’t want her to see his smile. “When it’s something that matters to me. Something important.”

  Her gasp made his smile widen.

  “Jamie?”

  “What is it?” She sounded as if she wanted to throttle him.

  “Don’t inconvenience me again.”

  It was the last insult she was going to take from him. “Look, Kincaid, it isn’t necessary to harp on the fact that you find me so vastly inferior. I understand your meaning clearly,” she announced. “If I were to run away, you wouldn’t even come after me, would you?”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “Well, of course you wouldn’t come after me. I’m too insignificant to bother with?”

  “No, I wouldn’t come after you.”

  Jamie h
ad to lower her gaze to the ground lest he turn around and see how much his words had hurt her.

  Why did she care if he came after her or not? The man was a Scottish barbarian, she reminded herself.

  “I’d send someone after you.” He finally turned around and caught her in his arms. “But since you aren’t going anywhere, the question isn’t important, is it?”

  “I’m beginning to dislike you immensely, Alec Kincaid.”

  “You really should do something about your temper, English.” He brushed his hand across her cheek. “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

  It was as much of a good-bye as she was going to get, she supposed, when he mounted his steed and left her staring after him.

  Her hand touched her cheek where Alec had stroked her.

  Then she straightened her shoulders and jerked her hand away.

  She almost hated him. Almost.

  She remembered he’d given her permission to rearrange his kitchens. It was only a little chore, she realized, but it was still a beginning. He would come to depend on her eventually, when he saw how much nicer his home was going to be.

  Jamie straightened her shoulders and started up the hill. She’d best get started right away.

  She smiled with new enthusiasm. Alec had given her a duty.

  Chapter Twelve

  Word of Lady Kincaid’s remarkable healing ability swept through the Highlands as swiftly as a storm. The tale of Angus’s recovery wasn’t exaggerated, however, for the truth was thought to be impressive enough not to need flowering around the borders. The recounting always began the same way, too, with the announcement that the Kincaid warrior had just been given the last rites, he had, and was only a breath away from death. That beginning always gained just the amount of astonishment each storyteller wanted.

  The members of the clans attending the annual spring festival at Gillebrid’s holding heard the news a short halfday after they’d been told Angus was dead. Lydia Louise, Angus’s younger sister and only relative, save for his wife, Elizabeth, was in quite a state. She wept first with true anguish over her brother’s untimely death, then wept with acute relief over his miraculous recovery. By long day’s end, the confused woman had to be given a sizable dose of heavy wine and forcefully put to bed.

  None of the McPherson clan attended the festival. The old chieftain’s only child, a son of just three wee months, was doing so poorly the clan was convinced he was dying. The bairn, given a stubborn streak he’d inherited from his father, had suddenly taken an extreme dislike to his mama’s milk. The violent vomiting after each feeding had soon made him too weak to suckle at all.

  Laird McPherson had gone off to find solace in his peaceful woods. His grief was nearly uncontrollable. He wept like a child, for he fully expected to bury his namesake when he returned to his home.

  It was a fact the Fergusons were united with the McPhersons against the hated fishermen, the McCoys. That feud had existed for so many years no one could recollect the beginning. The Kincaids, on the other hand, were allies with the McCoys, ever since a McCoy warrior fished a drowning Kincaid lass out of the river, and the Kincaids were therefore forced, for honor’s sake, to stand beside the McCoys against the McPhersons.

  Yet when word reached Lady Cecily McPherson of Lady Kincaid’s healing skills, she ignored all the laws of the Highlands.

  Cecily McPherson would have bargained with the devil to save her child. Without telling anyone her plan, she took the infant to the Ferguson holding and begged Lady Ferguson’s assistance. Mary was most sympathetic to the poor woman’s plight. Since Daniel was still away on the hunt for Angus’s attackers, she didn’t have to bother gaining his permission. She immediately took the little one to Jamie.

  All the Kincaid soldiers knew whom the child belonged to, of course, as everyone in the mountains knew everyone else’s business. None mentioned to their mistress the fact that she was taking care of their enemy’s son, though. They guessed it wouldn’t matter to her. Lady Kincaid was English, after all, and therefore ignorant of the feuds existing in their land. She was a woman, too, and the mothering instinct would probably mean more to her than war. Just as important, she was too gentle to understand a feud, and from the way she’d demanded to take over Angus’s care in the face of Alec’s resistance, she’d proven to be a mite too stubborn to understand.

  Gavin knew what would happen if the bairn died on Kincaid land, however. After giving the pitiful infant one quick glance, he was convinced war was inevitable. He commanded his troops to prepare for battle, sent two messengers to track Alec down, and then patiently waited for the McPhersons to attack.

  The babe was fat and sassy four days later when the entire McPherson army came to demand the body for burial.

  Gavin only allowed entrance to the laird and two others. With Marcus at his side, he waited on the steps of the castle.

  Jamie had just put the baby to sleep on Alec’s bed when she heard the shouts coming from the courtyard. She rushed outside to see what all the commotion was about, but came to a quick stop on the top step when she saw the three fierce-looking soldiers on horseback. She immediately knew they weren’t Kincaid soldiers, as their dark plaid wasn’t at all the same.

  “I’ll not leave without my dead,” the burly man in the middle bellowed. “And when I come back, there’ll be blood spattering your walls. Kincaid blood.”

  “Has someone died, Gavin?” Jamie asked.

  The second-in-command answered her without turning around. Jamie thought he didn’t want to take his gaze off the strangers. She certainly couldn’t fault Gavin, for the strangers did look the type to strike a man down when his back was turned. “Laird McPherson has come to reclaim his son.”

  The anger in Gavin’s voice startled Jamie. She caught the tension in the air, then realized the three strangers were all glaring at her. She straightened her shoulders in reaction to their rudeness.

  “Is she the Kincaid’s woman?” the man in the middle bellowed.

  “She is,” Gavin answered.

  “Then she’s the one who stole my son away.”

  Did the laird have to shout every word? Jamie couldn’t believe this was the father of such a sweet-tempered babe. The chieftain was an old man, with bushy brows that hid most of his dark eyes. She guessed he smelled as rank as he looked, too.

  Marcus turned around to look at Jamie. His face didn’t show a hint of what he was thinking. “Go and get the bairn,” he ordered.

  “Be quick about it, woman.”

  Jamie had just started back into the castle when the laird shouted that order. She stopped, then slowly turned around to face him again.

  “I’ll take my time,” she said.

  “I want my dead.”

  Her hearing was never going to be the same. The belligerent man was roaring like a wounded bear. Jamie tried to contain her temper. She told herself the man thought his son was dead, after all, and grief was robbing him of his manners.

  Not a word was exchanged until Jamie came back outside. She carried the sleeping infant in her arms. The laird’s son was completely covered by a thick woolen blanket to protect him from the biting wind.

  The old laird’s face showed no outward reaction. Jamie walked over to his side and pulled the cover away from the baby’s face.

  “Give him to me.”

  “You will quit your shouting this minute,” she ordered in a low voice. “If you wake this child after all the trouble I had lulling him to sleep, there’ll be hell to pay and you’ll be the one paying it. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Wake him up?”

  “I just told you not to shout,” Jamie reminded him in a near shout of her own. She immediately regretted her outburst, for the infant opened his eyes and began to fidget in her arms. She paused to smile down at the child, then glared up at his father.

  She missed the look of astonishment that crossed the laird’s face when his little one moved.

  “Now see what you’ve done? Your shouts h
ave upset the baby,” Jamie muttered. She moved the infant up against her shoulder and began to pat his back. The baby immediately let out a loud belch. “That’s a good boy,” she crooned after placing a quick kiss on the top of his bald head.

  Her expression hardened when she turned back to the laird. “Why God blessed you with such a dear child I’ll never understand. This little one has just had his noon feeding and if you get him riled, he’s bound to throw up.”

  The chieftain didn’t respond to her comments. Jamie reluctantly handed the infant to his father. She noticed the man’s hands shook when he took hold of his baby. “I have instructions to give you before you leave,” she told him.

  The old warrior didn’t say a word for a long while. He squinted down at his son while he tried to regain his control. He couldn’t show any joy now, for to do so would certainly soften his position in front of the Kincaids, yet it was a nearly impossible feat that made his eyes bulge. The bairn let out another lusty belch in the sudden stillness, then smiled sweetly over his feat, as if he knew of his father’s struggles and was deliberately testing his endurance.

  “He ain’t dead.”

  “You’ll scream him to death if you keep up your shouts,” Jamie announced. “Now pray give me your attention, sir. You will tell your wife to feed your son only goat’s milk.”

  “I will not.”

  Jamie reacted as though she’d just been hit by lightning. Before the laird could react, she snatched the baby out of his arms, settled him back against her bosom, and began to pace alongside the laird’s horse. “Then you can just go home without your son, McPherson. I won’t let you kill him with your ignorance. Come back when he’s old enough to fend for himself.”

  The laird’s beady eyes widened in astonishment. He glanced over to Gavin, then back to Lady Kincaid. “Give him to me.”

  “You’ll give me your promise to feed him only goat’s milk first.”

  “He’ll be getting his mama’s milk, woman.”

  “He doesn’t like his mama’s milk.”

  “Have you just insulted my wife?”

  Jamie wished she had the strength to beat some sense into the old man. “I’m telling you what you have to do to keep this baby alive,” she shouted. “He cannot stand another bout of sickness.” She moved closer to the laird, until she was just an inch or so away from his knee, then said, “Promise me.”