Seducing a Scottish Bride (8 page)

Only the raven dared, staring down at her from his perch on a high turret, the piercing focus of his beady, black eyes leaving
no question of his interest in her.

His intensity and need.

Then he vanished, his sleek black form swallowed by a swirl of mist.

Her heart thumping, Gelis hitched up her skirts and started forward, mounting the stone steps to the keep with a bold swiftness
that carried her halfway up the stairs before the heavy, iron-studded door swung open and a huge, thickset man of years appeared,
a wash of yellow torchlight spilling out from behind him.

“Ho! The MacKenzies — at last!” he boomed, planting his hands on his hips as he stood looking at them.

Strong-featured and with a shock of thick, gray-streaked hair and an equally wild-looking beard, he filled the arched doorway,
his plaid thrown back to reveal a great, two-handed sword hanging at his side from a wide, elaborately tooled shoulder-belt.

“A fine e’en to you, my friends,” he added, his bearded face splitting in a grin. “Welcome to Dare. Lady Gelis” — he stepped
aside, almost losing his balance as several large, shaggy-coated dogs shot past him, bounding down the steps to greet her,
their plumed tails wagging — “you are even more sparkling than the prattle-mongers claim.”

“She is a maid beyond price.” Duncan placed a possessive hand on her elbow. “Only my honor brings her here, Valdar. As well
you know. She knows it, too.”

The older man raised a brow. “Ahhh . . . so you told her of Corryvreckan?”

Duncan nodded. “She needed to know. Why I consented as well as what dangers lurk here. She also knows I view my debt as repaid
by agreeing to this union.” Escorting her up the remaining steps, he paused on the landing, standing almost nose to nose with
his old friend. “Know that, and be wary. If any harm comes to her, I will wreak a more terrible vengeance on you than even
Maldred could have conjured.”

“Father!” Gelis could feel her face flaming. “You swore you wouldn’t —”

“Your father has your best interests at heart.” Sir Marmaduke joined them on the landing, his usually benign expression as
grim as her father’s. “There were unholy things in that glen, and leaving you here, in the midst of such terrors, is beyond
—”

“ Pah-phooey! The only terrors here are the looks on your two faces.” Gelis glared at them, aware that her own eyes were blazing,
but uncaring. “Father gave his word —”

“Whate’er I said ceased to matter when we rode into Glen Dare.” Ignoring her, he kept his gaze on Valdar. “The place is passing
strange, MacRuari. More so than I remember. I have half a mind to return to Eilean Creag now, without even entering your hall,
and my daughter with me. Honor be damned.”

“But you will not.” Valdar curled his hands around his belt and looked him up and down. “Not as I know you.”

“Perhaps he should take her back to the safety of his own keep.” A deep voice spoke from the shadows and Gelis’s Raven appeared,
the whirling mist cloaking him in a swirl of silvery-gray. “She is fair and well-dowered. Many are the men who would take
her, and gladly.” He paused. “Good men whose homes aren’t plagued by darkness.”

Gelis’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Her mouth went dry.

Every bright and airy word of greeting she’d practiced fled her mind and she could only stare, wide-eyed and speechless. His
voice spooled through her, honeyed and rich, and although he spoke from the shadows, she’d almost bet his gaze was sliding
over her. She could feel its heat scorching her. Hot and appraising, it stole like a slow-moving caress over her breasts and
then down to her hips.

She took a few deep breaths, but something inside her kept winding tighter, each whirling twist warming her more, making her
entire body tingle.

“I’m thinking Dare is too dark for her.” Her father’s voice sounded distant.

Gelis blinked, then frowned at him. “Nae, it isn’t.”

Dare was perfect and the Raven exceeded her wildest dreams. His voice alone sent silken heat spilling through her and she
could scarce breathe standing so close to him. Already she could feel his touch and imagine his kisses, hear him murmuring
love words in her ear.

“Humph.” Her father grunted. “You dinna know what’s good for you.”

“Och, but I do.” She kept her attention fixed on the Raven.

Tall and splendid, he stepped forward then, his piercing gaze now on Duncan. “Kintail, I would sooner you slay me here, where
I stand, than that I should bring harm to your daughter.” Flicking a look at Gelis, he whipped out his sword and tossed it
into the air, catching it at midblade before offering it, hilt-first, to Duncan. “I, too, have honor, sir. I will not see
it compromised.”

“ No-o-o!” Gelis flung herself between them, her arms spread wide. She stared at her father, the hot blaze in his eyes chilling
her. “Don’t you dare touch that blade!” she cried, backing up until the sword’s jeweled pommel stone jabbed into her back.
“I’m no longer your daughter if you do.”

“You are more my daughter than you know.” The fury fading from his face, Duncan shoved a hand through his hair.

Then he smiled.

A tight, uncomfortable sort of smile, but a smile all the same.

Gelis held her ground, not yet ready to cede.

Duncan looked out over the mist-hung bailey, then back at her. “Well met, lass, but rein in your temper. I gave the MacRuaris
my word and willna retract it.” Reaching around her suddenly, he seized the sword’s blade, returning it in like fashion. “Sheath
your brand, Raven, and be glad I have such a high-spirited daughter. For two bits, I would’ve run you through.”

“The devil you would have.” Valdar looked pleased, his eyes twinkling. “Never in a thousand years.”

Duncan glared at him. “I’ve been called a devil, and worse. With reason, as you ken.”

The older man threw back his head and laughed. “So you would have spilled blood on my doorstep? Ruining the feast I’ve arranged
for you? By glory, laddie, I’ll not believe it.” Still laughing, he slung an arm around Duncan, steering him through the door
arch, into the well-lit hall. “Now you see why I wanted your girl. She has your fire and passion and, I hope, a good dose
of her mother’s compassion.”

Duncan snorted at that and then the two men were gone, disappearing into the throng inside the great hall, Sir Marmaduke and
the other men in their party with them. All lured by the tempting aromas of roasting meat and wood fires, the chance to rest
weary bones and quaff well-filled cups of ale and wine.

The Raven didn’t budge.

His dark eyes narrowed on her, her world seeming to narrow even more, the whole of it closing in on her until nothing remained
but the cold, damp stone of the landing and the fierceness of his stare.

Gelis’s heart pounded, her breath coming hard and fast after the spectacle she’d made of herself. Not that she wouldn’t do
it again if need be.

She would.

Especially if her boldness earned the Raven’s favor. Something she had yet to notice.

“Do not think I would have done that for just anyone.” She searched his face, not missing the muscle working in his jaw. “My
father’s sword arm is faster than the wind, his wrath greater than thunder.”

The Raven arched a brow, annoyingly unimpressed.

Unnervingly silent.

Towering over her, he looked down at her with the same unswerving intensity as the raven on the turret. Torchlight glinted
off his golden neck torque and sleek black hair, but his face was hard as stone, his eyes unwelcoming.

“I thought you wanted this match,” she blurted, angling her chin.

“Me?” He sounded skeptical. “Lady Gelis, I was wed twice before. My second wife, God rest her soul, is barely cold in her
grave, our stillborn son with her. Is it so difficult to think I am not desirous of a third marriage?”

“I am not afraid of childbearing.” Gelis stood back and patted her hips, proud of her generous curves. Certain she’d guessed
the reason for his discomfiture. “You needn’t concern yourself for me. Why, Devorgilla, the great wise woman of Doon, once
told me I have the perfect form for birthing. She assured me I would have many fine and strong sons.”

“And I hope you do.” He folded his arms and looked at her, his expression giving the impression that he hoped she’d bear those
sons to a different man.

Displeasure and a cold, black anger poured off him, stealing inside her like thousands of tiny, ice-coated fingers, each one
squeezing her heart.

Crushing her dreams.

Hoping she was mistaken, perhaps overtired from the journey, or that he was simply upset by her father’s rudeness, she brushed
at her cloak, causing its closure to open. The Raven’s sharp intake of breath upon seeing the bared swell of her breasts encouraged
her and she drew a deep breath, deliberately enhancing his view.

But rather than the appreciation she’d expected, his eyes grew more shielded, the set of his jaw looking tight enough to crack.

Confused, she hitched up her bodice, covering the top rims of her nipples. Unfortunately, the movement made her breasts jiggle,
which only served to deepen his scowl.

The wind freshened, too — a damp, gusting chill bringing the scent of rain while low, scudding clouds proved a fitting backdrop
for cold miens and clipped words.

For the Raven’s frosty indifference.

“I do not understand.” She kept her chin lifted, met his gaze full on. “Your courier said —”

“My grandfather’s man, not mine.”

“Yet you did not hinder us in coming here.” A surge of triumph swelled inside her. Now she had him. “You could have sent your
own messenger, telling us you had no interest in our union.”

“And dash the hopes of an old man? Causing you shame in the by-going?” He shook his head. “I think not, my lady. As I told
your sire, I, too, have my honor.”

“You have an odd way of showing it.” She flicked a raindrop off her cloak. “Even your grandfather greeted me gladly.”

“My grandfather is always glad-hearted in the company of women. He is overfond of them.”

“And you are not?”

Rather than answer her, his mouth tightened into a straight hard line.

“That, you do quite well.” Gelis eyed him hotly. “If there were a Highland prize-giving for frowning, I vow you would win
it.”

His dark eyes glinting, he gave her a look that would have made a lesser female’s belly quiver. “That should not astonish
you. If you would know the truth of it, it’s been forever since I’ve smiled.”

A sudden gust of wind caught his plaid then, lifting its edge and riffling his hair, making him appear as untamed as the night
around them. Gelis’s breath caught in her throat. He truly was magnificent.

She swallowed, furious that he so affected her. That each time the torchlight fell across his face, he seemed to grow more
handsome.

Dark, fierce, and dangerously dashing.

Even his scent had its way with her. A heady blend of leather, plaid, and wild, wide-open moorland, full of wind and rain,
the scent was so like she’d imagined it would be that her pulse leaped and her throat began to burn, filling with a painful
thickness she refused to acknowledge.

He was her raven and he should need and desire her as much as she wanted him. After all, it was he who’d come to her. Not
the other way around, though she had sought him with old Devorgilla’s scrying bowl. Remembering the day, she shivered. And
when he finally stepped before her, barely a breath separated them.

“Come, let us go inside.” His expression softened for a moment. “You are cold and it’s beginning to rain.”

“Aye, so it is.” Gelis lifted her face, letting the light drizzle mist her cheeks. “I do not run from the weathers or angry,
frowning men!”

He arched a brow. “Even so, I will not see you catch a chill.”

She blinked, too stubborn to dash the raindrops from her eyelashes. “You fash yourself over a chill, yet would plunge me into
embarrassment in the hall by announcing there will be no wedding.”

He touched her face, using the backs of his fingers to smooth away the moisture. Despite her annoyance, a flash of excitement
whipped through her.

“I did not say that.” His fingers stilled, barely hovering above her cheek, so tantalizingly close, spirals of warm, silky
pleasure spun through her, a sweet deliciousness settling low in her belly.

“Then what did you say?” She looked at him, wondering if he knew how thrilling she found his touch. That his mere fingertips
were making her tremble and burn in wicked places. “Please tell me, for I cannot make sense of your words.”

“That, too, should not surprise you. It hasn’t been my custom to converse with fetching young females. Not many are bold enough
to set foot in Glen Dare.”

“Foolish chits.”

“Many would say otherwise.”

Gelis started to argue, but he touched his fingers to her lips, silencing her. “Did you not know that those who peek beneath
rocks often see what they wish they hadn’t?” He lowered his hand. “Our betrothal ceremony will take place shortly. In the
great hall, this very e’en, just as you expected.”

“And our wedding?” Gelis was persistent. “Your courier said it should take place at the soonest.”

“My grandfather’s man,” he reminded her. “Nevertheless, I’ve a plan that will satisfy everyone.” He tucked her hand into his
arm and led her toward the door arch. “My grandfather and your father will not lose face, both keeping their honor, while
you will come to no harm. Dare’s darkness will be spared you.”

Gelis bristled. “And you? You mention everyone else.” She glanced at him as they entered the crowded hall. “Are you the only
one who won’t be satisfied?”

“I, fair lady, shall be best served of all.” Ronan steeled himself against the twisted truth, not mentioning that it was his
conscience alone that would profit.

She lifted a brow. “You don’t —”

“We’re expected at the high table.” He guided her through the crush, ignoring how her eyes had widened when he’d interrupted
her.

If his plan was to succeed, he’d have to be far more rude than cutting her off midsentence.