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As though to punctuate the remark, a murmur rippled through the crowd as a commanding helmeted Mackenzie warrior walked into the ring. He was challenging not one but two of the more experienced Morrison soldiers, and he looked more than up to the task. Even before he removed his helmet to reveal his identity, I knew who he was. The crisscrossing strapped holsters that dripped with weaponry. The untouchable confidence. Kade Mackenzie, the very menace who had haunted my sleep, overpowering my more-peaceful dreams of Caleb and weaving through my shockingly sensual reveries of the garden phantom.
He was a captivating figure, to be sure, not only for his size and dynamic presence but for the immanent spectacle his very manner seemed to suggest; whatever drama was about to unfold was sure to be perilously theatrical, at very least. He held the riveted attention of every spectator in attendance, myself included.
Kade took his position, clutching a huge, lethal-looking sword, and in his left hand he held a shield that was cleverly armed with small, razor-sharp spears. A second sword was strapped to his back, where he could easily access it, and a large knife hung at his hip. He wore a leather sleeveless vest that exposed his tanned, muscular arms. His eyes caught mine for a long, fortified moment, causing a jolt of awareness to seep into every anxiety I possessed, and deeper still. Then he fitted his helmet back into place and took his position. His concentration honed in on his opponents and he began to circle, like a hungry wolf might circle newborn lambs. He was undoubtedly the most threatening aggressor I had ever laid eyes on. I feared for our own Morrison soldiers and hoped they would not be maimed, or killed.
Bonnie breathed a light sigh, perhaps of relief, now that Jamie was already bested. She muttered an unsteady sentiment we might all have been thinking: “Good Lord.”
The spar began and the Morrison soldiers attacked as one. Kade deflected easily, his movements so deft, so cuttingly concise, that the first defender was relieved of his weapons within the minute, and limped from the ring with a bloodied cut to the leg without bothering to defend his teammate. The second opponent didn’t last much longer. His strikes against Kade’s sword barely registered and were so skillfully countered that they appeared mere child’s play. With a circular slice, Kade succeeded in flinging the defending soldier’s sword with such force that several people in the audience had to flee from its flying path.
Kade kneeled over the felled Morrison warrior, staunch aggression radiating from him, and he held the point of his spear to the man’s throat. Then, after a loaded moment, Kade stepped back, allowing the man to surrender and make his way unsteadily to the sidelines. That he was able to best two of the largest, most battle-hardened Morrison warriors so easily only added to his clinging ferocity.
Again the crowd murmured, and several people backed up.
Kade stood, surveying our assembled Morrison warriors. “Is this the best you can give me?” he growled, issuing a defiant challenge.
“’Tis unnerving,” commented Ann quietly.
“He’s brutally strong,” observed Lottie.
“And so wild,” exclaimed Agnes in quieted tones. “To bloody the man was hardly necessary. He nearly speared Hugh right through the throat.”
I allowed that perhaps Hugh was still suffering from the effects of my futile attack on him with his own knife. He’d be wearing more than one bandage tomorrow, a truth that did not vex me in the slightest.
Lottie whispered her agreement. “He’s beastly.”
“Wilkie’s equally skilled but so much more civilized,” Maisie said.
I could only concur with my sisters as I watched Kade Mackenzie with a mixture of mild horror and accumulating awe. Maybe it was the entwined nature of my morning dream and the way Kade had appeared alongside not only Caleb but also the enchanting garden phantom, but I felt my skin grow warm and flushed from the spectacle of this display, from the effects of his raw, merciless energy. As aggressive as his attack might have been, there was no denying the athletic grace of him, and the articulate control with which he held himself.
My unease—or whatever this was—only intensified when I noticed that the exchange between my father and Laird Mackenzie seemed to be somewhat heated and complex; the way they were articulating with their hands, the grave concern etched onto Laird Mackenzie’s features, and my father’s, too: what were they discussing? Surely a straightforward negotiation about a marriage that had already been discussed and agreed to wouldn’t be so fraught.
Before I could dwell further on what the lairds’ angst might be about, a Morrison warrior stepped into the ring to challenge Kade, cheered on by his ranks and his clan members. It was Aleck, one of my father’s first officers. He was a massive ruffian who was better known for his brute strength than his tactical intelligence. He could throw a boulder the farthest, drink ale the fastest and had once killed a man with his bare hands. He was also one of the officers who had beaten me, at the orders of my father, when I had attempted to follow Caleb to Edinburgh.
In fact, Aleck and I had known each other as children. We were the same age and he had once, when we were fourteen, given me a thistle flower. At that age, he’d been a gangly boy with long limbs, knobby knees and a clumsiness that was likely a result of his ungainly adolescence. He’d eventually grown into his frame, towering over most of his peers and gaining a reputation not only as the strongest but also the most ambitious. He had been born of a lowly status and would therefore never be eligible to marry one of the laird’s daughters, as stated by my father himself. Nor would he amount to much; he might have aspired to be a small landholder, and a soldier of some ranking in the laird’s army. But Aleck had not been deterred by any obstacles of class or breeding. He had spent the past six years training endlessly, besting the blue bloods and proving his loyalty so thoroughly that he had recently gained the position of first officer. Twice he had asked for my hand, and twice he had been refused. I believe my father thought Aleck’s proposals to be in jest, a joke shared over ale in the late hours of strategic discussions. My father had only mentioned this to me recently, an offhand comment to prove that I could do better than Caleb, that I was sought after by soldiers and nobles alike and that I should not set my sights so low: a reference to both Caleb and Aleck, I knew.
As Aleck had beaten me, more than once, I couldn’t help feeling that the whip’s bite was laced with sweet revenge. I had not accepted the thistle flower Aleck had offered me those many years ago; my sisters had laughed and I had followed their lead.
Now, as he faced off against Kade, I thought they looked evenly matched. Aleck was bulkier than Kade and clearly outweighed him by a fair amount, but Kade was quicker and wilier. The crowd watched as the dueling men circled, swords raised. Aleck struck first, swinging his weapon with such force that it made a thrumming whirr as it cut through the air. Kade met the slice with his own sword. The clash of metal was deafening. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be on the receiving end of such a heavy, solid blow. I found myself wondering in that moment if it hurt, if the jolt would surge up Kade Mackenzie’s arms and into his body, if the jarring impact was as intense as it looked. The turn of my thoughts surprised me, that I might feel an unmistakable note of concern for him, that I hoped, somewhere in the periphery of my own emotions, that he would not be harmed.
Kade faltered only slightly but shook it off and quickly retaliated with his own strike. The spar continued and I watched with undue fascination. It was as skilled a fight as I had ever witnessed: pure brawn versus trained, intricate strategy. Kade deflected and sidestepped. He jabbed and sliced. Aleck had only one move. He was strong but predictable, and Kade took his advantage, making impact, once and again, until his sword was stained with Aleck’s blood. Aleck, enraged, struck again. Kade ducked and raised his decorated shield. The sharp points on its surface sliced across Aleck’s arm and he howled in pain, dropping his sword. Kade leaped on Aleck, catching him off guard and upsetting his balance, until Kade sat astride Aleck, his sword held to Aleck’s neck in a very decisive win.
“I would not want to be alone with that man,” whispered Bonnie.
“Nay,” agreed Agnes, her eyes wide. “Either one of them. Have you ever seen such a savage display in all your life?”
Kade was slow to withdraw his sword from Aleck’s throat. There seemed to be some kind of continued challenge between the two men, and only when Laird Mackenzie and my father approached them did Kade leave off. He stepped away and removed his helmet to reveal his long, disheveled hair, making him appear all the more wild.
Even from this distance, though, I could detect that Laird Mackenzie’s discussion with Kade had nothing to do with the fight. My father spoke, gesturing in our general direction. Both Laird Mackenzie and Kade, to my utter dismay, looked directly at me. My heart clutched in my chest at the visceral impact of their scrutiny. My father took his leave of them, ordering Aleck to rise and follow him, along with several of his other officers. He walked over to where my sisters and I were standing, and he said gruffly, “Stella. Come with me.”
Without intending to, I grasped Ann’s sleeve. “Just me?”
“Just you. Now. I have something urgent I must discuss with you. The rest of you may return to your chambers where Stella will join you shortly.”
I had a bad feeling about this. And so did Maisie. Our eyes met briefly, but I was being summoned, surrounded, flanked and escorted at the insistence of the blood-smeared Aleck and others of my father’s ranks.
Dutifully and with no other choice, I followed.
* * *
“BUT, FATHER, I CANNOT! Please. Please don’t force me.” I tried to stop the tears but could not hold them back. The room blurred and I was glad of it. I wanted to block out every glint of this distressing reality.
My father was irate, as always, that I was not accepting his decree with blind obedience. “Do not defy me, lass,” he seethed. “I have had enough of your pathetic excuses and your ill-fated yearnings. Your pleading will not be indulged.”
“But I don’t love him. I don’t even know him.” I could acknowledge a certain draw to Kade Mackenzie, but my curiosity was fraught with dark chasms of the unknown. A cutting wit, a glinting eye, a masculine radiance: it was not enough. These were superficial details that did nothing to tone down the certainty of his proven, volatile aggression that was much too fresh in my mind.
My father contemplated me with undisguised contempt. Then he turned from me and chuckled quietly, the sound entirely devoid of humor. He took a long swig from the silver flask he held.
“You prefer the simpering blacksmith to a proven warrior of one of the highest-ranking noble families in the Highlands?” my father hissed.
Aleck contemplated my despair with his dark, suggestive eyes. He was entirely untroubled by the fact that he was smeared with sweat and dirt, or that his wounds, although not life-threatening, still ran with fresh blood. He stood by the door with his arms folded across his massive chest, as though to ensure that I didn’t attempt a sudden getaway. To be sure, he was an effective deterrent; his filthy, bloodied bulk would ensure that I kept as much distance between us as I possibly could have.
“Your feelings for him, I’m afraid,” my father continued, “are entirely inconsequential. Laird Mackenzie is as dedicated to this alliance as I am. Wilkie Mackenzie, however, has all but refused to marry your sister. He favors another. A fair-haired foreigner, apparently. I know not where she hails from, nor do I care. It matters not. What does matter is that a wedding will take place, and soon. It has been decided, therefore, that you will wed the third brother.”
My father’s suggestion was unthinkable. My worst fears were being realized. If I could remind him of Kade Mackenzie’s famously wild, unpredictable character, surely my father would reconsider. “His reputation—”
“Is that of an accomplished, extremely well-armed soldier, which Aleck here can only attest to,” my father said with some disapproval; he was less than pleased by Aleck’s earlier performance in the training grounds. “He is also brother to a highly successful laird and warrior. You are fortunate that Kade Mackenzie has offered to step up and fulfill his duty where Wilkie has failed.”
“But he’s as brutal and stormy as he could possibly be!” My voice sounded high with desperation and I made an effort to calm it unsuccessfully. “You witnessed his reckless behavior in the sparring ring. I cannot marry a man like that.”
“What I witnessed was a man so skilled in the art of warfare that he bested one of my strongest men and walked away without so much as a scratch. His brother believes he might learn how to teach his skills wielding weapons and also designing them, and in that regard he would be a valuable military leader.”
“Please, Father. There is more to this than military considerations, surely. ’Tis my life we’re discussing! He’s quick-tempered. Dangerous, even. I—I don’t want to be his wife.” More specifically: I didn’t want to share his bed. To be forever bound to his tempestuous energy, no matter how curious I might have been about the undeniably enticing effect that energy infused me with the few times I had made his brief acquaintance. Any allure he might have possessed was ominously overshadowed by the more immediate and fearsome image of his untamed power in the sparring ring. I knew only too well the kind of damage such manly strength could inflict.
A desperate thought occurred to me, possibly my very last lifeline. I would never have mentioned such a thing unless I thought my sister willing, and I knew her well enough to know that she very likely was. “Why don’t you allow Maisie to be the one to marry him? She may very well want to wed Kade if Wilkie has refused her. I know she would. She’s desperate—”
“I made allowances for Maisie’s request to marry Wilkie only because I thought it was a certainty...for reasons I won’t expound upon now. Your elder sister is retreating to a nunnery. She has no further interest in marriage. Therefore, you, as second oldest, must be the one to secure the new laird-in-waiting. Complications are wont to arise when the protocol of birth order and marriages is not followed. Besides, Maisie’s desperation has undermined her allure. He wants you.”
My father paused to take another swig from his flask. In the ensuing silence the words hung in the tense space between us. He wants you. What could Kade Mackenzie possibly have wanted of me? And why? To be sure, the very thought was enough to inflame all my reservations. “But—”
My father would hear none of it and interrupted me curtly. “The decision is made. The marriage will take place in two weeks, so I suggest you come to terms with your fate and prepare yourself accordingly.”
It was foolish of me, aye, but I had to try. “Father—”
My father lashed out at me, hitting the side of my face with the back of his hand, causing me to stumble backward. I caught myself and held my own hand to my cheekbone, which throbbed with the heat of the impact and my own humiliation. I had known to expect this; my father’s temper was nothing new. I should not have continued to defy him, yet I never seemed to learn. I did not have freedom of choice, yet I craved that one particular luxury, always, and enough to question his caustic authority.
But his wrath now seemed to almost undo him. He was feeling the effects of his age and his illness. In the past, his hits had been much more forceful. His strength was failing him. He coughed violently and uncontrollably for a few moments, spitting the blood that rose from his lungs onto the stone floor, where it made a gruesome blotch.
I knew my father was ill. But I had not known the extent of it. And, God help me, in that moment I was almost glad of it. I was glad that he could not hurt me as much as he once would have done. I could understand, too, why he was so fervent about securing a laird-in-waiting, to take his place when he could no longer lead. And the smallest glimmer of hope clung to the periphery of this realization. If I did marry Kade Mackenzie, and if my father became too ill to lead, Kade would step up to the position. Which meant that my husband would outrank my father.
And so would I.
“You will do your duty, Stella, and that is the end of it! Now go. Get out of my sight. I will call for you later.” To his first officer, he said, “Aleck, take whatever measures are necessary to ensure my daughter’s obedience in this matter, lest she dream up another futile attempt to flee or some other equally daft scheme.”
“I am at your service, Laird Morrison,” came Aleck’s reply.
With a sick feeling in my stomach, I followed Aleck from my father’s chambers out into the wide hallway. The door closed, and Aleck fell into step beside me; at his normal pace his stride might have been twice that of my own. As we walked, he surprised me by looping his burly arm around my waist. I attempted to remove myself from his grasp, but he was not to be dissuaded.
“You heard your father’s orders as clearly as I did, Stella. I must take whatever measures necessary to ensure your obedience. Has your father mentioned to you that I asked for your hand before your marriage to Mackenzie was arranged? But you know that already, do you not? If you do refuse Mackenzie, I have every reason to believe the laird will favor my request. I am, after all, one of his most trusted officers.”
I couldn’t help blanching at his words. I knew this to be untrue; it was unlikely my father would wed me to a man of Aleck’s bloodline. But I looked up at him, aghast. The thought of marrying Aleck was even more off-putting than that of marrying Kade Mackenzie. I could remember even now the hurt I inflicted when I had refused Aleck’s long-ago gift. His face had fallen and I later regretted the cruel childishness of my reply. Ever since, Aleck had gone out of his way, when our paths occasionally crossed, to ridicule me with threatening intention. Because of this, I thought him an ill-mannered lout who caused more than a ripple of unease every time he flicked me a glance. I knew well that his animosity toward me was laced with desire and revenge.
And the disquieting thought could not be suppressed: if I attempted to mutiny from the Mackenzie marriage, a match to Aleck would likely be considered as an apt, severe punishment. At the age of fourteen, Aleck had been a shy, gangly boy. Now, he was a massive, seasoned warrior with thick black hair, irises so dark it was difficult to distinguish them from the inky hue of his pupils—a detail which only added to his somewhat sinister demeanor—and a face that could have, if I didn’t know the history of all the thoughts behind it, been called noticeable if not handsome. He was far too rough to be attractive, and far too coarse to be likable.
“Perchance your father might allow one of your younger sisters to secure the Mackenzie alliance,” he said, pulling me closer. In fact, I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the way this was progressing; there was no one about and we were still some ways from the guest chambers I shared with my sisters. “You and I could get to know each other better, Stella, while we have the opportunity. You know I’ve always had my eye on you.”
I struggled against his advances, pushing my hands against his barrel-like chest. “Aleck. Unhand me. I must return to my sisters.”
But Aleck only smiled and pulled me closer. “Don’t defy your father again, lass. He’ll be most displeased by your continued disobedience when I was given strict instructions.”
“To return me to my chambers. Nothing more.”
His lips curled in a lewd grin. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Holding me in his hard grasp, he tilted his head slightly, leaning toward me as though he might kiss me. The scent of him, of fresh blood and salty musk, filled my senses and I feared I might wretch.
Shocked and distressed, I slapped his face. He was stunned enough to loosen his grip, and I managed to disengage and run from him.
I held my skirts as I bolted as fast as my gown would allow, turning once to see him running after me, his face thunderous with rage.
And as I turned the corner, I ran right into the solid form of a very large man, who was so surprised by the sudden collision that he held me in a decisive embrace, to corral me or to steady me.
It was none other than Kade Mackenzie.
With my father’s declaration fresh in my mind, I couldn’t suppress a blush that rose to my face as Kade held me. His hands were clasped on my shoulders, and my body was pushed up against his. The contact caused him to utter a low, strangled gasp, as though this rugged, self-assured soldier was shaken by our sudden and unexpected closeness. The textures of him, I couldn’t help noticing as my breasts rose and fell from my exertions, were stunningly hard and unyielding. The scent and feel of him overwhelmed my senses. Sun and fresh air and earthy, spice-touched masculinity. “Stella.” His muttered exhale, laced with genuine surprise, was a statement of recognition more than a greeting. And it was too familiar, this address: a detail that hardly mattered now, if my father’s plans were a certainty. A fluttery memory was kicked up by his utterance. He knew my name. I will taste more of you, Stella. I have not had nearly enough. I want you as my own. But I suppressed the thought, which was very nearly painful with its sweetness. Of course Kade would now know my name, if the news that I was to become his wife had reached him, which was more than likely. He, no doubt, would have been given more say in the decision, to be sure, than I had.
After a brief shocked moment, Kade set me on my feet and took a step back. And as Aleck appeared, scruffy and enraged, Kade studied the situation with some consternation. I could see that my reddened, tearstained cheek did not escape his notice, and the observation caused his eyes to darken.
Only moments before, I had been lamenting Kade Mackenzie’s very existence, but now, as I gasped for breath, I felt overwhelmingly glad to see him.
Still dressed in his training garb and fresh from the strenuous masculine activity of sparring, and winning, Kade looked rougher and more intimidating than ever. The dramatic vitality of him drew—nay, commanded—my attention, as it had before, and I felt uneasy about this power he seemed to hold over me, as though his very presence controlled not only the direction of my eyes, but also the entirety of my thoughts. His too-long hair was windblown and the sleeveless leather training vest he wore showed off the scarred and sculpted definition of his arms. Slung across his body with a mesh of straps, belts and holsters was his ever-present arsenal of weaponry, making him look all the more dramatic. I was thankful I had not been speared by something on impact.
I had noticed an innate confidence in the Mackenzie men at the recent formal gatherings. But now, dressed in his training gear, with the sun and air still radiating from the dirt-dusted set of his shoulders, it was easy to see that this was the more natural, native state of Kade Mackenzie than the clean white shirt and smart attire. Here, clad in his leather trews, combat vest, tall boots and enough swords and knives to equip a small army, he looked wholly at ease, as though he’d not only had all his greatest successes in this outfit but also regularly slept in it. The rugged vigor of him was practically a visible force. The knowledge that I would be forced to marry him—unless I could indeed either escape or somehow talk my father out of the arrangement (either scenario I knew to be highly unlikely)—fed a squirmy, fluttery sensation into the low pit of my stomach. My anxiety—and my fascination—was manifesting itself in unusual ways, it seemed.
Kade, too, seemed oddly ruffled. His breathing was uneven, his mouth opened slightly from the force of his exhalations.
But then I was reminded of Aleck, whose large palm reached for my bare arm. Before his touch was even upon me, Kade’s knife was drawn and held decisively between us. Aleck stopped all movement, and his stare in Kade’s direction promised death. But Kade did not appear at all intimidated. His own steady blue-tinted threat was as cold and volatile as I had ever seen it.
“There’s no need to manhandle the lady,” Kade said, fully regaining whatever composure he had temporarily misplaced.
“The lady is my charge and I’ll handle her however I see fit,” countered Aleck.
“You are within the confines of the Kinloch walls, soldier, and you will follow our rules. Women are not harmed, nor treated with disrespect. Keep your hands to yourself.”
Aleck eyed Kade, exhaling what might have been a chuckle of disbelief. Such a rule was not practiced, we both knew only too well, at Glenlochie.
In the wake of their recent duel, conflict sparked in the air.
“I fear I am lost,” I said to Kade, hoping to break their stalemate before violence broke out. “Could you be so kind as to show me the way to the guest chambers of my sisters? My guard here cannot remember the way.”
“I remember the way,” Aleck growled. “Follow me now, lass, and I’ll lead you.”
“Nay!” I said, perhaps too loudly. “I mean...what I mean to say is, we would be honored by your assistance. To make sure we know the way of it.”
“We don’t need—” Aleck began, but Kade interrupted him.
“I’ll escort you,” said Kade gruffly to my intense relief. I knew he could read my predicament; what I didn’t know was if he would care. Yet I supposed Kade’s irritation was somewhat warranted. After all, I was his betrothed, almost. He would surely be aware of the proceedings by now, and the proposed change to the marriage plans: his, to me. The sight of another brute manhandling me might have been enough to provoke any husband-to-be. I had little doubt Kade would be manhandling me himself, and as soon as he got the opportunity. But he appeared to be miffed by the thought of someone else encroaching on his potential territory. And at that moment, I was almost glad of his outrage.
Aleck did not argue further. I wondered if it occurred to him that if and when my marriage to Kade Mackenzie took place, Kade would, in fact, become Aleck’s new laird-in-waiting. He would take the role as first officer and outrank Aleck. Aleck did not appear to be at all pleased by this possibility. His face twisted into a loaded grimace, and he followed along, resentment radiating in waves from the wide set of his shoulders. I could not help thinking this animosity did not bode well.
Kade Mackenzie led us to my chambers, where Aleck took up his post outside the door.
I murmured my thanks to Kade and hastily retreated into the safety of my sisters’ company, closing the door securely behind me. And as I was welcomed into my sisters’ questioning circle, a detail of my earlier heated exchange with my father lingered with me. I had taken only brief note of it at the time, but it echoed insistently now. I looked at Maisie’s grief-stricken face and thought of my pleas to let her be the one to wed Kade, if Wilkie had refused her.
Her desperation has undermined her allure, my father had said.
He wants you.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two weeks later
“HE’S ONLY MARRYING you because he’s duty-bound. ’Tis the unfortunate truth of it.”
“We’ll be there for you all the while, Stella.”
“Not all the while, but as much as we can.”
“Whenever he leaves you we’ll come to you.”
“As long as he allows it, of course.”
“He might want you all to himself.”
“He’ll likely allow us to visit with you during the day, at least.”
“Aye. You’ll need comforting, after what you’ll be subjected to at night.”
“Maisie! Don’t bring up that particular topic. She’s already pale as a ghost.”
My sisters were gathered around me in the warm confines of our horse-drawn carriage, offering a litany of advice and condolences. A procession of carriages carried the privileged few who would attend my wedding. The cold autumn wind bit and blustered at the windows as we made our way across the Highlands to the Mackenzie keep, where I would wed Kade Mackenzie in less than two days. My arguments had fallen on my father’s selectively deaf ears.
