His Highland Lass

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance; Historical Romance; Ancient World Romance; Medieval Romance; Scottish & Highlander

Synopsis

Faced with a feud with the Sinclairs that is growing deadly, Laird Tristan Mackay is bound by duty to his clan to make peace with the enemy. Tristan arranges a marriage for his stepbrother, Sir Alan, but never imagines that he would meet the woman he longs to marry. When things sour quickly between Tristan's stepbrother and Lady Mairghread Sinclair, Tristan is determined to make her his.



Raised with four older warriors for brothers and as the only daughter of the Sinclair laird, Mairghread is independent, resourceful, and loyal to her family. When her father arranges a marriage to a man she has never met for the sake and safety of her clan, Mairghread tries to accept her fate. Mairghread is betrothed to one man, but it is the dark, handsome, and provocative laird who catches her eye. Arranged to marry Sir Alan, Mairghread finds herself drawn to Laird Tristan Mackay. After meeting her intended, Mairghread knows she cannot go through with the marriage, but she must find a way to end the feud that is tearing the two clans apart.



When the wedding is called off by Mairghread's father, Tristan and Mairghread see an opportunity to be together. However, a spurned mistress and a jilted suitor stand between Tristan and Mairghread's happiness. Tristan and Mairghread must fight for their love.



Contains mature themes.

Release date: December 11, 2020

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 152

Sample

Chapter One

 

She entered the Great Hall like a strong spring storm in the northern most Highlands. Tristan Mackay felt like it blew him hither and yon. As the storm settled, she left him with the sweet scents of heather and lavender wafting toward him as she approached. She wasn’t a classic beauty, tall and willowy like the women at court. Her face and form weren’t what legends were made of. But she held a unique appeal unlike any he’d seen before. His eyes riveted to her long chestnut hair with strands of fire and burnt copper running through them. Unlike the waves or curls he was used to, her hair was unusually straight and fine, a waterfall cascading down her back. While she wasn’t tall, neither was she short. She had a figure meant for a man to grasp and hold onto, whether from the front or from behind. She had an aura of confidence and charm, but not arrogance or conceit, like many good-looking women of his acquaintance. She didn’t seem to realize her own appeal. Intuition told him she was many things, but one thing she was not was his.

Mairghread Sinclair was intended for his brother—his stepbrother Alan. She and her father, Liam, and her four brothers approached with a contingent of guardsmen behind them. They had left even more guardsmen in the inner bailey attending to their horses. The Mackays and Sinclairs hadn’t been on good terms of late, and an alliance between Tristan’s stepbrother and the Sinclair’s daughter was meant to create a truce between the two raiding clans. Within the last three years, both sides burned numerous crofts and fields, and countless heads of cattle and sheep switched back and forth between the two. However, when an out and out clash between raiders, who met coincidentally, one night left fifteen Sinclairs dead and eighteen Mackays dead or wounded, both chiefs decided they needed a truce. The strongest way to secure that and to form an alliance was through marriage. As there were no eligible females in the Mackay chief’s family to marry off to one of the Sinclair brothers, it fell to Mairghread to marry a Mackay. Tristan didn’t consider himself ready, or even inclined, to marry at this point. He suspected his stepbrother Alan would benefit from settling down and sowing his seed in only one woman, rather than any who allowed him to get his meaty hands onto them long enough to lift his plaid. He had a quick pang of guilt flashed through his mind as he sensed Mairghread was the sacrificial lamb.

Tristan stepped down from the dais, where he had been eating his midday meal with his stepbrother and stepmother Lady Beatris. As the Sinclair party approached, he observed a wary expression cross each of their faces as they looked past Tristan to where Alan and Beatris remained seated. He almost groaned at their rudeness. This wasn’t the first impression he hoped to make. He didn’t dare glance back since he didn’t want to make their rudeness any more obvious than it already was.

When Tristan reached Laird Sinclair, he reached out his arm to grasp the other chief’s forearm in greeting. He noted Liam Sinclair was a bear of a man. He was barrel chested and stood almost as tall as Tristan’s six and a half feet. While he had to be at least fifty years old, if he was a day, his hair and beard were still the same dark chestnut as his daughter. In fact, all Liam’s children shared his coloring, but while the men had brown eyes, his daughter had a blue-gray unlike any shade he’d seen before.

When he turned to greet Mairghread, she took his breath away once more. She had clear skin, slightly darkened from time in the sun. There was a hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose and across the tops of her cheekbones. Her nose was neither narrow nor pointy like most women he knew. It had a soft, almost flat, finish to the tip. He was sure her profile would be gentle and rounded rather than harsh and angular. Her lips drew his attention away from her eyes and nose. They were a perfect bow shape and pink, but almost closer to red. They looked soft and kissable. He almost shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had no business fantasizing about how those lips would feel against his. He ran a hand through his shoulder length, jet black hair.

“Welcome to Castle Varrich. On behalf of ma stepmother, stepbrother, and Clan Mackay, I welcome ye. I trust yer journey went smoothly.” Tristan gathered his thoughts enough to say something to his guests.

“Thank ye for having us, Laird Mackay.” Clearly, Liam wasn’t a man of many words.

Tristan turned to Mairghread, hoping to be gracious. “Lady Mairghread, we have prepared a chamber for ye above stairs if ye would like to retire until the evening meal.”

A flash of annoyance crossed Mairghread’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She looked at Tristan and plastered what she hoped was a serene smile on her face. “Thank ye, Laird Mackay. I would like to refresh maself and have a moment to change out of ma travel clothes. However, I’ve been atop a horse for three days. I’d really like to stretch ma legs. Perhaps someone might show me the gardens.” She looked pointedly over his shoulder at her soon-to-be betrothed.

Alan was still shoveling food into his mouth as though it would be his last meal for days. Alan was known to indulge in all things whether it was food, drink, or women. His mother only encouraged him, and he was as spoiled an adult as he had been a child. Fortunately for him and for the clan, he loved to train as much as he loved to imbibe in drink and women. It was the only way he kept himself from being as round as a barrel. He must have sensed several pairs of eyes on him because he finally looked up.

Tristan turned to face the dais as it was impossible to ignore any longer that neither his stepbrother nor his stepmother came forward to greet their guests. It took quite a great deal to embarrass Tristan, but now he was not only embarrassed, but ashamed of his family. Alan hadn’t jumped at the idea of marrying, and certainly not a Sinclair, but he’d come around to the idea when he realized a wife meant a guaranteed woman to warm his bed each night.

“Lady Beatris, I’d ask ye kindly to show Lady Mairghread to her chamber, please. Then, Alan, mayhap ye’d take Lady Mairghread for a turn or two around the gardens. It might be a nice way to become acquainted with yer future wife.” Tristan turned back to notice the Sinclair brothers glaring at Alan. They were clearly not impressed with their future brother-by-marriage.

Tristan watched as Lady Beatris led Mairghread, albeit grudgingly, up the stairs to her chamber. Alan came down from the dais for Tristan’s introduction to his intended’s family. Tristan surmised Liam was sizing Alan up both physically and by his character. While Liam looked to be pleasantly impressed by Alan’s clear warrior physique, his lips turned down when he looked into Alan’s eyes. He glanced toward the stairs Beatris and Mairghread had just taken. An expression of regret flashed so quickly across his eyes that Tristan wasn’t sure if he’d made it up in his own mind. When he looked to the other men, he noticed Mairghread’s brothers had stealthily formed a slight semicircle around Alan. He was almost boxed in with no way to move forward unless they let him pass.

Tristan listened as they each introduced themselves to Alan. The oldest and tánaiste, or heir, was Callum, and he seemed to be the calmest of the group. He was followed by Alexander, who served at Callum’s second. He had an air of authority that matched his brother’s, but he seemed more shrewd and cunning. Tristan deduced he was one with whom to be careful not to make an enemy. The third brother, Tavish, was the shortest of the four, but only by a hair. He most resembled their father in build. While the other three brothers were broad across the chest and shoulders, Tavish had their father’s barrel chest. The fourth and youngest brother, Magnus, was the largest of the lot. He looked as though he tossed cabers as a daily warm up before training for eight hours. He looked like a positive giant. Tristan was aware Magnus and Mairghread were the closest in age and were extremely close. For Alan’s sake, he hoped Alan never angered Magnus as Tristan wasn’t certain Alan would survive.

Tristan picked up the conversation as Alan remembered his manners. He caught Alan saying, “Mayhap ye would like to join our men out in the training yard. I would join ye, but as ye heard, I must take yer sister out for a walk.” Perhaps he had not remembered his manners after all.

Tristan almost cringed at Alan’s tone. He made it sound like he was being forced to take a dog out for a walk rather than spend time with his future wife. While all the Sinclair men’s faces remained neutral, there was a shift in the air. Things weren’t off to a good start. Not good in the least. Tristan only hoped the afternoon would turn the situation around, or they may never get around to signing the betrothal papers.

~   ~   ~

In her chambers, Mairghread breathed a calming breath as she turned to face her soon-to-be mother-by-marriage. Just the walk to the chamber had been enough to grate on Mairghread’s nerves. Lady Beatris had a whining lilt to her already nasal voice. She hadn’t come up for air once she launched into describing all the wonderful attributes her son possessed. While the woman was convinced of every single word she spoke, it sounded as if she was a tinker selling her son, and he were a shiny trinket made from dinged and warped iron.

When Lady Beatris paused to close the door, Mairghread found her opportunity to speak up. “Lady Beatris, thank ye for showing me the way. I shall only be a moment while I change. I notice ma trunk has already made its way up here. I will return to the Great Hall to join yer son on our walk.”

While that was as strong a hint as Mairghread dared give, she hoped the woman would take it. That wasn’t the case. “Lady Mairghread, I’d be happy to help ye with yer gowns. Though I see ye dinna follow the court fashions.” Beatris turned her nose up at Mairghread. “The well-polished and sophisticated ladies of the court wear the ties to their gowns in the back. It takes at least one lady-in-waiting or maid to assist them in and out of their gowns. Ye might consider a change in yer wardrobe once ye become the wife of the Clan Mackay tánaiste. A wardrobe that better suits yer elevated status, mayhap.”

Mairghread gritted her teeth. She had been presented at court several times over the course of her life as her father was a well-respected Highland laird. She was all too aware of what happened at court from the wardrobes of those women to their scheming and unchaste behavior. She had wanted no part of that in the past and wanted no part of it now. She preferred her gowns to have the ties in the front, so she didn’t have to rely on anyone to assist her. She enjoyed her privacy—the little that she had with four brothers—and when she retired to her chamber, she liked to be alone. As for elevated status, she didn’t see how this elevated her status in any way. She was the only daughter of one of the wealthiest and most powerful lairds in the Highlands, in all of Scotland. She was a wealthy heiress in her own rights as her dowry included many household items, jewelry, and a passel of land. She loosened her jaw and forced herself to relax.

I have naught to prove to that auld biddy. She blathers on a bit. Does she ever haud her wheest?

“I dinna care for court fashion as I find it impractical to ma duties around the keep. I prefer to dress maself than have a maid do it. I like ma privacy.” A stronger hint given.

Will she get it?

“Och, well, aye then. I shall meet ye below.” Beatris left with a harrumph and a swish of her skirts.

Mairghread released the breath she hadn’t realized she held. She slipped out of her kirtle and splashed water onto her face and neck. There was a drying cloth folded on the table next to the bowl, and she spotted her bar of lavender and heather soap on the other side. She made quick work of washing herself down as best as possible without a tub. She was into a new kirtle and on her way out of the chamber in less than five minutes.

I may as well get this walk over with. I wish I hadnae said aught. I might have gone by maself if I hadnae opened ma gob. That man is vile, and I will tie myself to him for the rest of ma life. Bluidy bleeding hell.

Her inner monologue ceased as she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the Great Hall. She looked at her brothers and father and realized in the short time she was gone, things hadn’t improved. All four stood with their arms crossed and appeared to be listening intently to whatever Alan was saying. However, after a lifetime of her father’s mannerisms, which her brothers had adopted either by nature or nurture, she knew what their stance meant. They weren’t pleased. They hid their disdain and boredom for the most part, but their crossed arms showed they didn’t welcome Alan into the conversation like they had Laird Mackay.

At the thought of Laird Mackay, her eyes shifted to search for him. He stood apart from the other men as he talked to someone she hadn’t seen earlier. Both brothers were warriors in their build, but Laird Mackay was the brawest man she’d ever laid eyes on. As her mind settled on an image of eyes, her curiosity demanded she get a closer peek at his eyes. Were they emerald green or more like moss after it rained? Her breath caught again, just as it had when she arrived, and her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the Great Hall after being outside. He was unlike any man she’d met in her twenty-two years. He was built like an oak tree with trunks for legs, ones that she peered at below his plaid and above his mid-calf boots. He had the arms of a blacksmith; his forearms had to be almost as wide around as her thigh. His shoulders were so broad it wouldn’t surprise her if he turned sideways to go through most doorways, and he probably had to bend down as well. He had to be close to six and a half feet tall. She had always considered her brothers to be the most impressively built men she’d ever seen, but Tristan Mackay made them resemble lads who still had some growing to do. Even her giant of a brother, Magnus, didn’t seem as braw as Tristan.

Mairghread forced her eyes away from Tristan, but as soon as they settled on Alan, she wished she hadn’t. He was a disappointment in comparison. She knew she shouldn’t view him that way, but it was the truth to her. While he had the physique of a well-trained warrior, he just didn’t seem as braw as his stepbrother. He had fair hair and blue eyes, both nondescript shades. It was clear they came from different stock as they weren’t blood relatives, but from what she understood, they’d grown up together from being weans.

There was an arrogance about Alan that Mairghread found exceedingly off putting. No one had noticed her enter the Great Hall yet, so she took the opportunity to observe her future betrothed. He still talked with her family, but from her current position, she noticed how his eyes darted around the Great Hall as though he were looking for something. When his gaze landed on a busty serving woman, and he smirked, Mairghread got an even better sense of the man they meant her to marry. She continued to observe Alan. He moved on to watch another two women in much the same way. One approached the group of men with a tray of ale for each. She leaned forward as she served her brothers, giving them a clear view of her ample bosom. As she leaned forward, she positioned her backside next to Alan. He gave her a surreptitious pinch as he grinned at the Sinclairs. As she walked away, he gave her an overt pat on the backside. She was positive one of her brothers growled. Next, he looked at two much younger serving women. It was impossible that the young women were over sixteen or seventeen years old. They both took a step back from the table they were clearing. He frightened them, and they didn’t want his attention.

So, he chases all the women employed in the keep. Or, at least, the ones he considers worth bedding. The aulder women enjoy his attention, but the younger ones shy away. I wonder if that’s the case with most of them. What does he do that has the more experienced women showing him attention while the inexperienced want naught to do with him? Is he skilled in the bedchamber, or does he lavish his women with gifts or special privileges? Or have these women learned it’s easier to do his bidding?

Once again, Mairghread found her mind running away with her as she assessed her potential husband. In her mind, he was moving away from definitively being her new husband to being only a potential husband. She was aware this wouldn’t do her any good. She needed to accept what was already in the works. Whether or not she liked him wouldn’t sway the need for an alliance or her father’s mind. She fervently hoped she was only seeing a superficial version of Alan and that there would be more substance, even if it took time to find it. Perhaps he would improve once he committed to her and to marriage. Somehow, the back of her mind kept telling her that didn’t seem likely.

She knew she couldn’t hide much longer, or people would wonder what kept her. She didn’t want the Mackays to get the idea she would be awkward and prim. Taking too long to reappear might give them the impression she was materialistic and fussy, so she stepped into the hall and walked toward the six men. As she walked past the woman Alan pinched, she didn’t miss the enmity in the woman’s eyes. She passed two more women who gave her much the same hostility. As she passed an older woman, she noticed pity. The two younger women who had cleaned the table also gave her looks of pity.

So those who ken him pity me, and those who ken him find me to be competition.

Mairghread offered warm smiles to all whom she passed. She said hello to those who seemed willing to hear her. Once she joined the men, they all turned to watch at her. It made her self-conscious to have all these eyes on her because she sensed everyone else in the hall was looking at her too. Understandably, they were trying to gain any insight into the new lady in the keep. She turned her warmest smile on Alan and almost gasped at the leer he gave her. His eyes never traveled higher than her cleavage, which she had an ample amount showing since most summer gowns hid it poorly. Her aversion to walking in the gardens with him grew. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him and certainly not alone, but she was the one who had mentioned it.

Alan extended his arm to her. “Shall we take that turn aboot the garden, ma sweet. I realize now it was an excellent suggestion. I only wish I’d come up with it maself.” His candy sweet words made her want to retreat. Her intuition screamed a warning about being around him. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t pure fear or pure revulsion but some combination of the two. She placed her hand on his forearm, but he tucked it around the crook of his arm and began to drag her toward the door. She shot an anxious glance over her shoulder at Magnus, and the nod of her head was so brief Tristan almost missed it. Magnus immediately fell into step behind them. Alan turned back and glared at him, but Magnus simply crossed his arms and shrugged. Mairghread didn’t understand how he managed to walk with his arms crossed, but it certainly made him appear even fiercer than normal.

The trio made their way down the steps to the inner bailey. The keep was designed in three parts with the original tower on the left closest to the gate; whereas, the midsection of the keep was boxier with three stories. There were arrow slits on the second floor, and proper windows on the third. Mairghread’s chamber was on the second floor and had two arrow slits. She assumed the laird’s family chambers were on the third floor and enjoyed proper windows. The third section of the keep was the kitchens. As they turned in that direction, Mairghread waited for Alan to tell her about what they passed, but his attention was everywhere but on her.

Mairghread appreciated the respite from talking as she had nothing to say to him. She looked at each of the buildings they passed. Just outside the kitchens were large ovens used to bake the day’s bread. Tucked behind the kitchens, close to the bailey wall, was the laundry. She watched women working at a cauldron over a large fire. There were two women with large wooden spoons the length of a man stirring the contents while another five stood over a trough scraping clothes along washboards. The last thing she noticed were four more women moving along the clothes lines, taking down dry clothes and replacing them with the wet ones. It reminded her of home. She had often helped the women with the laundry. While they would never let her do any of the actual washing, she helped with the clothes lines.

Directly across from the laundry, the noise and heat coming from the blacksmith’s forge reached her. The din was almost overwhelming. The blacksmith, and what looked to be three apprentices, was busy working on horseshoes and swords. The apprentices resembled the blacksmith with a shocking blaze of carrot-orange hair.

Must be his sons.

Next came a series of small buildings with no one about. Mairghread assumed these were storage buildings, and most likely held seed, threshed wheat, shorn wool, and any other item of which there was an overabundance. Mairghread had noticed the stables when they came through the portcullis. She longed to check on her horse, Firelight. She would ask Alan on their way back.

Alan yanked on Mairghread’s arm to draw her to the left. He pulled hard enough that she almost stumbled. Rather than slow down or apologize, he huffed and made a sound of impatience. Mairghread heard her brother growl from behind them. She sensed more than saw Magnus close the gap between them. If Alan halted, Magnus would plow into him. For a second, it tempted Mairghread to make that happen. However, she didn’t want to antagonize Alan. She was unsure whether he had a temper. She got the distinct sense he was the kind of man who did, so she kept moving.

They approached the gardens, and Alan opened the gate but did not wait for Mairghread to pass through first. In fact, the gate almost slammed shut on her. Magnus’s arm shot forward to push the gate back open and let her pass through. She raised her eyebrows at her brother as she said thank you.

“Are ye coming, or just going to wait at the entrance? Ye said ye wanted to tour the gardens. Here they are.” Alan’s tone was anything but inviting. Mairghread was quickly running out of patience for all things Mackay, well, all things Mackay other than Tristan.

 

Chapter Two

 

Alan spent all of twenty minutes in Mairghread and Magnus’s company once they entered the garden. He excused himself with a trite “I must check on the men.” He skedaddled, moving as though his pants were on fire. The siblings wandered through the garden at a leisurely pace. They weren’t even ten months apart in age and were more like twins than anything else. They had been constant companions from the time Mairghread crawled fast enough to catch up to a toddling Magnus. She was close to all her brothers, but she and Magnus were inseparable except for when they had to be, or Magnus gallivanted about with the other men. Mairghread was aware of what they got up to as she had made the mistake of following Magnus when she was four-and-ten, and he was five-and-ten.

Mairghread got more of an eyeful than she had ever expected when she showed up at the back of the village alehouse. There was Magnus with his plaid thrown up to his shoulders, arse to the wind, thrusting into a barmaid. It shocked her so much, she hadn’t made a sound for at least a good thirty seconds, then she squeaked. She had never squeaked in her life, but she did then. Magnus whirled around to catch his sister wide eyed and open mouthed. He didn’t know what to do. The top half of him wanted to run after his sister and apologize of all things, but the bottom half of him wanted to finish what he’d started. At five-and-ten, it took him but a couple more minutes to finish what he was in the midst of, then he dashed off after his sister without a word or a coin to the barmaid. He’d caught up to his sister and pulled her to a stop.

A conversation that neither had ever imagined they would have ensued. Magnus explained the mechanics to her and much, much more. With no living mother to explain these things to Mairghread, and a father who would never, could never, have such a conversation with his daughter, the responsibility fell onto Magnus’s young shoulders. Mairghread learned more about the goings on between a man and a woman than she ever imagined. While Magnus admitted he wasn’t the most experienced, he had now done it enough times to give some insight. Magnus answered each and every question Mairghread had, and there were quite a lot. By the end, Mairghread understood there was more to coupling than just the breeding she’d seen between horses in the pastures and the cattle on the hills.

“Do ye suppose he’s checking on his men, or did he have a wench to tup?”

“Yer intended seems to have quite a relationship with many of the women in this clan. There were at least two in the keep that he kens intimately. I noticed at least five more in various parts of the bailey who looked at him either with desire or revulsion. Both looks lead me to believe he kens them well.”

They found a bench next to a rose bush and took a seat. Mairghread turned her face toward the sun. Mairghread had never cared that too much sun brought out freckles. She believed the feeling of sun on her skin was one of the best she knew. She would soak up as much as she dared in the spring and summer months before losing the sun’s rays for most of autumn and almost all of winter.

“I dinna suppose he will give up his women once we marry.” This caused Mairghread a great deal of sadness. While she didn’t believe she had to have a love match, she believed she should have a faithful husband. Even though she was aware many men were unfaithful to their wives, especially noblemen, the men within her clan didn’t do that. A man who didn’t keep the vow he made before God, his bride, and his clan was a man without honor. A man without honor was no real Highlander.

“Perhaps ye will win him over with yer beauty and knowledge.” Magnus smirked down at her. While she had no firsthand carnal knowledge, she and Magnus had had several conversations beyond the one in the village after the incident at the alehouse. Magnus had been open with her as he wanted to prepare her for whatever might be in store for her. He wanted no one to take advantage of his sister, and he wished her a happy marriage. A happy marriage bed was part of a happy marriage, or so the married guardsman had told him.

“I dinna think that will be enough for him to change his ways. I would hazard a guess he doesnae realize his ways could use a change. And if he does, I dinna think he wants to.”

“Ye may vera well be right aboot that. Can ye come to live with that?”

“Do I have any choice?”

“Nay, I suppose ye dinna. Do ye imagine ye will find happiness here anyway?” Magnus wrapped his arm around Mairghread’s shoulder, and she leaned into him. She always found great comfort in hugs from her father and brothers. Perhaps it was because they were so much larger than her. It always gave her an immediate sense of security and belonging when they wrapped their strong arms around her. This time was no different. She realized with a pang how she would miss this once she married, and they left. What comfort would she find in her new home?

“I can imagine aught, but I couldnae say at this point. I might find contentment, but I dinna ken whether I can be happy with a philandering husband. It’s nae that I would marry a mon I believe to be without honor. It’s the humiliation of kenning everyone in the clan kens of his faithlessness. It’s the humiliation of having to be near his women, of them kenning they are enough to make him stray from me. That I amnae enough to keep him in ma bed, and ma bed alone.”

“It is nae too late to speak to Da. Ye ken he loves ye dearly and would never wish ye a miserable life. It’s possible for him to decline the offer, and we all return home.”

“Ye ken I canna ask that. The whole point of this marriage is to end the strife between our clans. Turning away now would just be an insult. I doubt Laird Mackay or Alan would stand for it. I am as stuck here as I am in a bog.” Mairghread heaved a heavy sigh and stood. With that, they exited the garden. They were just in time to watch Alan duck into the stables, pushing a giggling woman ahead of him.

~   ~   ~

Tristan couldn’t get Mairghread out of his mind. Sitting at his desk in his solar with her father and three other brothers did little to lessen the distraction she posed. The five men had settled in to draft the betrothal contract. Tristan believed Alan should be present for this as it would be his marriage, but since he was showing Mairghread the gardens, it seemed fine to begin without him.

The men worked through the details for almost three hours before there was any agreement. At times, the conversation became tense, but Liam was adamant the dower lands he offered remain in trust for any daughters Mairghread and Alan might have. The Mackays weren’t to use them other than for farming or grazing. They weren’t permitted to place any crofts or keeps on the land if the Mackays were building them. The Sinclairs, without coming out and saying it, didn’t want any Mackays making their home that close to the Sinclairs’ land. The Sinclairs might be willing to form an alliance, but they didn’t entirely trust the Mackays. Once again, the notion that Mairghread was the sacrificial lamb came floating into Tristan’s mind.

Liam might trust the Mackays with his daughter’s future, but he didn’t trust them with the future of his land. Tristan would have been insulted on Mairghread’s behalf if he hadn’t already seen how much the man loved his daughter. He understood the laird was also doing this to safeguard Mairghread’s future. If she were to die and Alan remarried, any daughters they had might be at risk of being sent off to a convent or given in a hurried marriage, so they wouldn’t interfere with the new marriage. While he didn’t foresee that happening in his lifetime, he was a laird and a warrior. He wasn’t certain just how long that life might be. This land would be a safe dowry for those daughters. It would also be a place where Mairghread or her future daughters might go if they needed a different home. Tristan didn’t foresee that eventuality either, but it made her father feel better. He wouldn’t begrudge the man that. He imagined he might do the same if he had a daughter one day.

A daughter? Sons? I’ve been careful thus far to make sure I havenae had any. But one day. Will I find a woman as fair as Mairghread for maself? I will have to watch her marry ma arse of a stepbrother and grow round with his bairns. I will have to watch as he breaks her heart repeatedly with his cheating and drinking. God only kens how she’ll be able to get along with Beatris. Maybe she’ll have the patience that I dinna. I’m torturing maself already. Mayhap she isnae as great as she seems. Mayhap I willna covet ma brother’s wife once I ken the real Mairghread. This might all be for show, and a different side will come out once she settles here. Mayhap I will be the lucky one nae to have married her.

Even as these last thoughts ran through Tristan’s head, his mind and heart screamed they were false. He was trying to talk himself out of the infatuation he was developing. Tristan had bedded his fair share and then some of women. He wasn’t some green lad chasing after his first skirt. At eight-and-twenty, he had almost half a lifetime of experience with women. Even with this experience, he was unable shake how strongly he was drawn to his brother’s intended. Instinct told him Mairghread was as good and pure of heart and character as he had seen so far. If anything, he was certain he would find her even better as he got to know her.

Mayhap I ought to build a manor house for them somewhere beyond the crofts. Then they’d move there, and I wouldnae have to watch them together. I wouldnae need to see her every day if I provide them with servants. They’d live, sleep, and eat there. Alan would come up to the lists every day, and I would have to suffer through his bragging, but I wouldnae have to see her. Nae only would that solve the issue of seeing Mairghread, but I ken Beatris would follow them to the house. That alone would make this worthwhile.

Once again, Tristan understood these thoughts to be false. He could not relegate Mairghread to some manor house where it would force her to live in such a small space with her mother-by-marriage, her husband, and all the women he was bedding at the time. At least the large keep might make it a little less obvious how many affairs his stepbrother would have over the years. That idea brought bile to the back of his throat, and he wanted to gag. Mairghread didn’t deserve the husband they were about to stick her with.

“Laird Mackay? Didna ye hear what I said? I’ve said it thrice already,” Liam said with impatience.

“Nay. Ma apologies, but ma mind wandered there for a moment. I’m sorry, but could ye repeat yerself? Again.” Tristan cringed a bit at that.

“I said, I would like to wait a fortnight before we sign this, and a moon before the wedding takes place. I would be sure this arrangement satisfies ma daughter before we make it permanent, and I leave her here in yer keeping.”

Tristan recognized the stress on the word “your” meant the man had little faith in his stepbrother, and he would hold Tristan responsible for anything bad that might happen to Mairghread. He also understood once she was wedded and bedded, there would be little authority for him to do anything since she would become Alan’s property. Unless he beat her, there was no guarantee of a happy marriage. He didn’t want to be his brother’s keeper, and he didn’t think he would be successful banning Alan from sleeping with other women. Alan’s deviousness would find a way around it. Tristan had considered having Alan marry before him in the hopes a wife and responsibilities to his own family would make Alan settle down. But it was obvious Tristan’s wishful thinking would be wasted.

“Laird Sinclair, I will do ma vera best to ensure Mairghread is well taken care of here at Castle Varrich.” That was the best offer Tristan could make. He noticed his pledge stating she would be taken care of at the keep, while not mentioning his stepbrother, didn’t go undetected by Liam.

“Call me Liam. We are to be kin and allies soon.” No mention of being friends. Tristan sighed.

“And ye can call me Tristan.” What the bluidy hell have I gotten maself into?

~   ~   ~

The men exited the solar in time to watch Magnus and Mairghread enter the Great Hall. Tristan scanned the hall to determine if Alan was already inside or following behind them. He was nowhere in sight. It had been several hours since he entered his solar for the negotiations and Alan had taken Mairghread to the garden. He’d expected Alan to join them in the solar once they returned from the garden, but he never showed up.

Mairghread and Magnus walked up to their family and Laird Mackay. Tristan saw she’d gotten a few new freckles that day. The realization that he noticed was a bit unsettling to him, but he was sure of it. She smelled of lavender and heather and now fresh air. Her cheeks were pink, and her open-mouthed smiled showed two rows of perfectly shaped white teeth.

“Da, Firelight and Tavish found two mares they’re rather fond of! Laird Mackay, ye might have two new foals on the way before ma kin leaves!” Mairghread laughed, and Tristan was certain it was the sound of a faerie’s bell. He also didn’t miss the term of affection for her father. Tristan paused though. Something Mairghread said struck him as odd.

“Tavish?” Tristan looked at the brother who had been with him for the past three hours.

Mairghread laughed once again. “Aye. Tavish, the stallion.” She looked at her brother and laughed even harder. “I mean Tavish, the horse, is rather taken with yer dappled mare, and ma horse rather fancies yer fawn-colored mare.”

Tristan looked at the family, still in some confusion. “Ye have a horse and a brother named Tavish? I dinna ken how that is.”

It was Magnus’s turn to laugh now as Tavish, the brother, glared at him. It was a long running family joke and cause of annoyance for Tavish, the brother. “Tavish is ma horse. Da gave me the horse when I was seven. At the time, Tavish, over here, was ma favorite brother. A week later ma favorite changed, and I tried to change the horse’s name to Callum, but it would only respond to Tavish. So, it stuck.”

Tristan tried hard not to laugh as he didn’t want to do it at the other man’s expense. It took a great deal of effort, and he almost choked. Tears twinkled in Mairghread’s eyes as she looked over at Tristan.

“Go ahead and laugh. Ye ken ye’re bursting to do it. The only one who never laughs is Tavish. Ma brother, nae the horse, that is.” With that she laughed again. Tristan could no longer contain it after hearing her infectious giggle. He chuckled, too. “Laird Mackay, ye have a wonderful stable. Ye have some of the best horses I’ve ever seen. Do ye breed many here? Or have ye found them elsewhere?”

“Lady Mairghread, are ye fond of horses?” It took Tristan aback that a lady would mention such a topic as horse breeding.

“Ma sister has been riding since she was auld enough to hold her head up. Da would take her out wrapped in his plaid against his chest. She would look out and coo at everything and everyone. Once she sat up, she moved to riding in front of Da but still with his plaid wrapped around her to keep her close. She’s been in the saddle since she was a bairn.” This was the most Alexander had said since they arrived. Tristan hadn’t been sure he talked at all.

“Alex, the laird was talking to me. I can answer for maself.” Mairghread raised an eyebrow at her brother, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

“Laird Mackay—”

“Please, ye should all call me Tristan as we are soon-to-be kin.”

“A-all right. Tristan, I do love horses. I love to ride, but I also like to take care of ma horse. And that includes where he is sent to stud. I ken it is nae a normal topic for a woman to ken aboot, but with four aulder brothers, I couldnae nae learn aboot it.” Mairghread caught herself stammering when Tristan told her to call him by his Christian name. She was unprepared for that or the sensations it caused. The name slid off her tongue as though she’d used it for years. It felt right. More so than the name Alan. That was a name she was rapidly beginning to dislike with a passion.

I’d rather ma passion go to Tristan. Jesu, Mary, and Joseph! Where did that come from? Bluidy bleeding hell! Argh! Now that’s three times I’ve cursed and will have to confess. I must find out if they have a priest here sharpish. Willna that be nice? ‘Hello, Father. I’ve nae yet been here a day and havenae even joined the clan yet, but I need to make a lengthy confession. Have ye time?’ Wonderful.”

Tristan’s voice brought her back to the present. She forced herself to focus on what he said rather than what she dreamed he might say to her—in private. “So, Alan showed ye the stables after the garden? Did ye three go anywhere else? I admit we left ye with quite a lot of time to fill on yer own.”

Mairghread and Magnus shared a glance between them. It wasn’t one that reassured Tristan. Mairghread spoke up. “Nay. Alan wasna the one to show us the stables. He walked there from the gardens, but we werenae the ones who were with him. I suspect he had some, er, something else to see to. Magnus and I wandered around the bailey, meeting yer clansmen and women until the stables were available for us to visit.”

Tristan’s heart sank with this. Mairghread didn’t need to be any clearer to let everyone know Alan had a rendezvous with some woman in the stables when he was supposed to be getting to know Mairghread. Magnus now glared at Tristan, as he was the only Mackay available at present to receive his disdain.

Liam and his other three sons stared at Mairghread in disbelief. Callum finally spoke up. “Just how long did ye spend with yer intended? Ye were gone the three hours we were meeting.”

“Magnus, what say ye? Alan was there aboot twenty minutes.” Mairghread shrugged and plowed on ahead, hoping to change the subject. “Tristan, yer people were vera kind to me. Many stopped to talk with us, and I played catch with a few of the lads. I dinna imagine they’ve ever seen a lass throw as far as I can. It thrilled the lasses to watch me beat the lads. I admit I encouraged the lasses to give it a go and gave them some pointers on how to surely trounce the lads. I may have only befriended the younger females of yer clan so far, but Magnus had several of the aulder females wanting to make friends with him.” Mairghread smirked at her brother as he reached out to pinch her side. She swatted at his hand.

Callum wasn’t as eager to move on from Alan abandoning them on their walk. He was known for his tenacity, and he wasn’t ready to give up on this topic. “Mairghread, are ye telling us that out of three hours, ye spent only twenty minutes with Alan? Ye watched him go into the stables. I take it ye hinted it was with a woman other than yerself.”

“Callum, of course, it was with someone else. I canna be in two places at once. I told ye, Magnus and I toured the bailey. Tristan, I should like to ride in the morning. Is it safe to ride in the meadow outside the gate? What aboot near the loch? Are there any bogs I should worry aboot?” Mairghread did her best to steer the conversation back around. She gave Callum a pointed look. One he returned but let the subject drop.

Tristan was unsure what to say at this point. He was so embarrassed by his stepbrother’s behavior. He wanted it to be unconceivable that Alan would be so blatant in his dalliances, but he knew in his heart he wasn’t surprised. Tristan looked down at Mairghread, seeing the hurt she was trying to hide. He recognized how she begged he would keep the conversation away from something so humiliating.

“Aye. Ye can ride out to the meadow and yon. I’m sure ye would like the loch. Yer horse can have a drink, and ye can sit on the rocks for a spell. Do ye ken how to skip rocks?”

“Are ye seriously asking me that?” Mairghread smirked. “Once again, I have four aulder brothers. How couldnae I ken how to skip rocks?”

“Mayhap yer brothers and da would like to join ye for yer ride, and I’ll show ye all aboot.”

Alexander had to put his two cents in. “Do ye think Alan might make himself available for such a tour? As laird, I’m sure ye have more pressing matters. I’d think Alan would like another opportunity to get to ken his bride and her kin.”

“Right ye are. I will ask him at the evening meal. Lady Mairghread, I believe Lady Beatris is trying to get yer attention. I’d venture to say she’d like for ye to join her at the hearth. Do ye sew? I’d guess that’s what she is doing now.”

Mairghread looked to her father and noticed his scowl seemed to have become permanently etched on his face since arriving at the Mackays’. She gave an almost imperceptible nod before looking at Tristan. “Aye. I sew. I shall gather ma current piece of embroidery and join her in a moment.” Mairghread dipped a curtsy and moved to the stairs.

“I think a dram of whisky might be in order,” Tristan muttered as he motioned toward his solar.

 

Chapter Three

 

The evening meal progressed nicely, and it seemed the lairds’ families were getting along. While Alan still shoveled food and wine into his mouth as though he feared someone would steal his trencher, he did at least leave a decent portion for Mairghread. As befitting a soon-to-be betrothed couple, they shared one. At first, Mairghread thought Alan was being kind with the choicest pieces of venison and pheasant going into the trencher, but she realized these were landing on his side. He plunked down any piece he found on top when he got around to serving her. The juices would have splattered and ruined her kirtle if she hadn’t grabbed the edge of the tablecloth to cover her lap. She never did get a drop to drink as they also shared a goblet. Alan hoarded it as though he would soon expire from thirst. Mairghread had seen plenty of men drink wine or ale with their meals, but Alan alternated back and forth depending on which buxom serving wench was near to hand. If it was a homely looking woman, he didn’t wave her over as his goblet emptied, but if the woman was comely, he pulled her into his lap to pour another serving. He was well into his cups by the third course.

Mairghread plastered her most serene smile on her face as she suffered through the meal. As though Alan’s manners and behavior weren’t bad enough, Beatris sat on Mairghread’s other side. She kept rambling on about Alan’s many accomplishments. From what Mairghread could tell, they weren’t accomplishments, rather Alan doing the very least people expected of him, and his boastful mother’s exaggerations. Beatris spoke of how he learned to read and write well enough that he no longer needed lessons after the age of ten, even though Tristan needed to continue with a tutor until he was seven-and-ten. She didn’t see the point of why Tristan learned to read and write Gaelic, English, and Latin. She, herself, had survived forty-five years without being able to read and write any of those languages.

According to Beatris, Alan had learned to sit a horse by the age of five and rode better than all the other guardsmen, or so she claimed. She was sure to tell Mairghread that Alan was the strongest of all the clansmen, and he shot an arrow farther and straighter than any other man in the Highlands. Mairghread wanted to laugh outright at the comment about his strength. She had met Tristan and seen the blacksmith and his apprentices. Alan was far from being the strongest man in the clan. Had the woman not seen Mairghread’s own brothers? As for his prowess with a bow and arrow, perhaps when he was sober. At the moment, he was so drunk he barely raised the goblet or eating knife to his mouth without missing.

As the meal finished, the clansmen moved the trestle tables aside, and musicians began to play. The meal was a small feast to celebrate Clan Sinclair’s arrival and the upcoming betrothal. Alan burped and patted his belly but made no move to invite Mairghread to dance. Tristan knew he couldn’t be the first one to invite her. That role should have gone to Alan. As couples began to move onto the floor, he observed the wistful expression upon her face. Mairghread wanted to dance, and she swayed to the music. After a few minutes, Tavish rose and took her by the hand to lead her onto the floor. They joined the others for a lively country reel. Soon Tristan recognized Mairghread’s laughter in the crowd as her hair flew behind her, and she kicked up her heels. She danced two more songs with her brother before Callum, Alexander, and Magnus each claimed a dance.

“Alan, go dance with yer intended. Ye might at least pretend to pay her a bit of attention.”

“Why? Ye’ve already drafted the agreement with her father. The deal is as good as done. I have nay need for her except to bear me sons. Since she canna do that right this moment, I shall continue as I am.”

The heat rising along Tristan’s neck and into his face scorched him. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to throttle his stepbrother and smash his fist into his face. “Ye will go out and dance with Lady Mairghread. Ye will make her feel welcome. Ye will behave yerself and nae shame this clan. Or ye willna ever drink another drop in this keep. Now go!” Tristan veritably barked his order to Alan. His stepbrother looked up at him. He had his perpetual sneer on his face. It was the countenance Tristan recognized meant he would do what he wanted despite any consequences. His demeanor told Tristan Alan was beyond reason.

Please let him behave with even a modicum of decency.

Alan made his way to the dance floor but stopped to flirt with three different women on the way. He promised to meet one of them in the storeroom behind the kitchens after the music ended. He stole a sloppy kiss from another. In his stupor, he didn’t realize and didn’t care that each Sinclair, the laird’s family and guardsmen alike, observed his behavior before he came to Mairghread’s side. She was dancing with Auld Michael, one of the clan’s elders.

“Move on auld man. I’ve come for ma woman.”

Auld Michael gave Mairghread an apologetic look and seemed to linger.

“It’s all right, Michael. I’ve been expecting to dance with Alan.”

Auld Michael moved away but not before hearing Alan’s hoarse whisper, “What the hell was that supposed to mean?”

“Naught. I hoped at some point we might dance together.”

Alan grasped her around the waist and yanked her into him. Something hard bumped against her front, and she was positive it was too low to be his abdomen and too high to be his thigh. She almost shuddered with disgust. He hadn’t been near her long enough for her to cause it. Someone else had clearly aroused him. Which of the three women she saw him with made him stand at attention she didn’t know, nor did she care. He held her roughly as they began to move around the dance floor.

“Ye’re a sweet piece of fluff, are nae ye, ma sweet? Ye’ll do well warming ma bed each night. Dinna think ye shall sleep alone often. Ye’ll be in ma bed every night that I want ye. On those nights I want someone else, ye may sleep in another chamber...or ye could watch, if ye fancy.” Alan leaned forward and licked Mairghread’s ear. She struggled not to throw up. “We’re all but married at this point. Give me a taste of what’s to come. Come with me to ma chamber and show me what I’ll have every night after we stand before the kirk.”

Alan grabbed her backside and thrust his hips forward. His other hand snuck between them to squeeze Mairghread’s breast. His hand grazed her right breast just before she stepped back and thrust her right knee into his groin. When he gasped and bent forward with his hand over his crotch, she threw her left elbow into his nose. Blood shot out all over and splattered her kirtle.

“Ye bluidy bitch. Ye broke ma nose! Ye’ll pay for yer insolence.”

Mairghread flicked her right wrist, and a dirk appeared in her hand. She lowered her hand, so the point of the dirk was at his groin. “Take a step closer, and I’ll saw off yer twig and berries.”

“Ye dinna have the nerve. Ye wouldnae dare. Ye’re naught but a cock tease. Ye—”

Mairghread cut him short when she flicked her left wrist, and another dirk appeared. This one she aimed at his throat. “I wouldnae keep insulting me if ye’d like to keep yer bollocks or yer throat in one piece.”

At first, Tristan could only tell there was some commotion on the floor. Once Alan’s voice floated to him, he was certain it involved Mairghread, and Alan had done something wrong. As he rose, he listened to five other chairs being pushed back. Each shot back so hard it fell over. Then there was the sound of five swords being drawn. As Tristan rushed around the table, he watched Alexander and Magnus leap across the table followed by Callum and Tavish. Liam ran around. All five surged forward and leapt from the dais. At the sight of their laird and his sons with drawn swords, the Sinclair guardsmen drew dirks and sgian dubhs from various places on their bodies. In response, the Mackay guardsmen drew theirs. Most clans didn’t allow swords in the Great Hall apart from the laird’s family, personal guard, and guests. This was why.

Tristan ran forward but came to a screeching halt when he took in the scene before him: Mairghread with two dirks pointing at his stepbrother, and Alan with a broken nose and a hand adjusting his groin.

“What is the meaning of this?” Liam roared. “What the hell did ye do to ma daughter that she had to defend herself from ye?”

“I didna do a damn thing wrong. Yer whore of a daughter teased me and then denied me ma due as her betrothed.”

“Da—”

“Silence, Mairghread!” The Sinclair stepped up to Alan and placed his face only inches from Alan’s. At over a head taller, Liam had to lean down. “Ye dare call ma daughter a bitch, a cock tease, and a whore? I will kill ye right on the spot.”

Tristan had to step in before this turned into a bloodbath. He looked around as the Sinclair guardsmen inched forward, ready to defend any of the laird’s family who might be in need. Tristan didn’t miss the white-hot fury in each of their faces. He noticed his own guardsmen were on the defensive, but it was to protect the clansmen and women. They had inched away. They had no intention of coming to Alan’s rescue.

Doesnae that nae only speak volumes but scream it too? “Mairghread, tell us what happened, please.” Tristan stepped in front of Mairghread to look at her. Her calm was remarkable, considering she was a foot shorter and at least ten stone lighter than Alan. She looked up at him with her blue-gray eyes. They were a darker gray than before. They reminded him of a storm cloud about to unleash a blizzard.

“He yanked me against him, then ground his staff into me. Someone else had clearly already entertained him when he interrupted ma dance with Auld Michael. Then he grabbed ma backside and one of ma breasts. Alan said I should give him a taste of what he’d be getting after the kirking. He said, since we were practically betrothed, it was his right. He also told me how I’d warm his bed every night another woman wasna already in it.” Mairghread leaned around his shoulder and glared at Alan. She looked ready to spit fire. Tristan thought he had never seen a more remarkable woman.

“He said all of that, lass? Aught more?”

“Nay. Isnae that enough? I canna remember aught else.”

“Ye’re bluidy right that was more than enough! The Sinclairs ride out at dawn. There will be nay betrothal. Laird Mackay, count yerself lucky I respect ye, even if yer brother is a piece of shite. If I didna, I’d raze yer fields from here to the Orkneys,” Liam bellowed.

Out of nowhere came the shrill yell of Beatris, and Tristan’s heart sank even further, if it was possible.

For Jesu’s sake, could this get any worse?

“What did that hateful wench do to ye, son? Let me see ye. That trollop is a tease. I watched her at the table and the way she tried to entice ye with more food and drink. She’s to blame for this.”

Anyone who saw the diners at the dais knew this to be ridiculousness. Everyone observed how Alan behaved. Everyone knew how Alan behaved. There didn’t seem to be a single face in the crowd moved by Beatris’s claims.

“Woman, haud yer wheesht,” Tristan snapped. “Dinna fash at Lady Mairghread for Alan’s disgusting behavior.”

“Tristan! How could ye speak out against yer own brother? How could ye betray me, yer own mother?”

“Ma brother, nay, ma stepbrother and ma stepmother will retire now.” Tristan turned to face Alan, who moved to swing at Tristan, but Tristan wrapped his hand around Alan’s throat. Being almost half a head taller and stronger, Tristan almost lifted Alan off his feet.

“Ye would insult our guests and then attempt to strike yer laird? Ye are through here tonight. Guards, escort Alan and Beatris to their chambers. Lock the doors from the outside and post men there throughout the night.”

When he released him, Alan attempted to shove past Tristan and lunged at Mairghread. “Bitch!”

Tristan pushed Mairghread behind him and stepped between them. His hand shot out and slammed into Alan’s jaw. Tristan had never head a sound more satisfying than the crunch of his stepbrother’s jaw breaking. Alan collapsed, and Beatris screamed. Tristan looked at his guardsmen who had come forward. They collected both Alan and Beatris and removed them from the Great Hall.

Liam rushed forward and wrapped his daughter in his arms. Mairghread melted into his embrace and clung to him. She began to shake as all the energy drained from her, and she was certain she would dissolve into nothing but a puddle if her father didn’t continue to hold her up. When he stepped back, she dipped her head, so no one witnessed the tears now streaming down her face. She would not have any of these people believe her weak. When she was a bit more composed, she looked up at her father. He gave her a tiny nod of the head. Tristan caught sight of it.

Ah, now I ken where she gets that mannerism from. The apples dinna fall far from that tree.

“Lady Mairghread, ma apologies canna go far enough after what just happened, but I offer them to ye anyway. I am so vera sorry. I ken ye bathed already, but if ye would like, I’ll have another bath sent up to ye and mayhap a hot toddy to help ye sleep.”

“Thank ye, Tristan. I willnae have anyone hauling up a tub and hot water for me at this late hour. I would take that tot of whisky though.” She was too tired and drained to realize she addressed him by his Christian name in front of his clan. Magnus pushed past and elbowed Tristan in the ribs. Tristan was about to shove the person back until he realized it was Magnus. Magnus looked stricken to see his sister in such a state. While the other Sinclair men still looked ready to do bloody murder, Magnus looked as if he would be ill. He scooped Mairghread into his arms and moved toward the stairs without a word. “Magnus, I’m tired but nae broken. I can walk on ma own. Put me down. Now!”

Magnus looked at her and shook his head.

~   ~   ~

The Great Hall cleared of all those who would return to their crofts. Those who remained were bedded down for the night, and snores rumbled from all corners of the room. Tristan was very ready for that drink he had promised himself hours ago. As he turned toward his solar, he spotted the last person he wanted to deal with at the moment. Sorcha headed straight to him, and it was clear she was on a mission. He’d been bedding Sorcha for the better part of two years. While she was satisfying between the sheets, she was also a social climber. She kept hinting she should have the official label of the chief’s leman. Tristan recognized what she wanted was to become the lady of the keep. Neither would happen.

While Sorcha was beautiful and satisfied his lust, Tristan had no intention of making their arrangement anything more serious or in any way permanent. He was aware she was cold to the other servants in the keep, and she would never fulfill the duties of the lady of the keep. Never mind the fact that marriage to her would bring no dowry or alliance to his clan. Tristan had never formally kept a leman even though there were two other women he once had a long-standing agreement with. He was unwilling to commit to any woman enough to give her that much influence over him or to believe she had authority over the members of the clan.

Tristan watched her approach. The normal surge of lust he experienced when she was near was missing now. She did nothing to stir him or his cock. Just the opposite. Tristan dreaded having her near him. Her scent of roses was cloying and sickening to him after the light fragrance of Mairghread’s lavender and heather. Sorcha was aware she was an extremely attractive woman. She had long, wavy blond hair with blue eyes and an ample bosom. The latter she had on display for him now. The ties to the front of her kirtle were half undone, and she was practically falling out of her gown. She stopped in front of him and reached out to run her hands over his chest. It was her normal greeting, but this time, Tristan grasped her wrists before she touched him.

“Sorcha, tis nae a good time.”

“But ma laird, ye ken I can always make it a good time.” Sorcha purred as she stepped closer.

Tristan took an instinctive step back. With sudden clarity he was certain of what he needed to do. As he looked at Sorcha, there was nothing but an overwhelming desire to find Mairghread. He wanted to hold the lass with the chestnut hair with streaks of fire running through it, just as those flames ran through her spirit. He had once found Sorcha’s blond hair enticing. He’d enjoyed seeing it draped across his shoulders as she rode him or when he wrapped it in his hand as he took her from behind. Now it seemed mousy compared to Mairghread’s. He’d once enjoyed flicking his tongue against Sorcha’s lips to prod them open as his tongue dueled with hers. Now he only remembered the fresh mint scent that always seemed to come from Mairghread’s perfectly shaped, pinky-red lips.

“Sorcha, this canna happen now. This willna happen again. Our arrangement has seen its course and is now at an end.”

“What?” Sorcha screeched. Tristan looked around the hall to make sure no one noticed. He had no intention of pulling her into a dark alcove for privacy because she would launch herself onto him. While his mind wanted nothing to do with her, he wasn’t so convinced his body would stay in agreement.

“Lass, I’ve enjoyed our time together. Ye ken that to be the truth. But this situation with Alan and the Sinclairs has made me realize I’ll be needing a wife soon. I willna bring a woman to this keep to take to wife if I have another woman here who I’m bedding. I willna do that to any potential wife. That means our time together is done.”

With that Tristan turned toward his solar. He left a fuming Sorcha staring at him. If he’d stayed any longer or looked back, he would have seen the pure hate and malice that shone in her eyes. He would have been forewarned that a woman scorned was a dangerous enemy to make.