The Highlander's Accidental Bride (24 page)

“If ye are finished staring, ye can get back on yer horse, now.”

Uneasy, Mary stepped forward. “Eaden, I’d like to talk before we gain the castle.”

“There may be men from Bellecourt following us, my love. Perhaps later.”

Mary stiffened at the mocking way he said
my love
, and she faced him. “You have no reason to be so angry. I wrote you a letter . . .”

“Aye. I got yer letter.”

Mary stomped her foot. “Then, why did you come?”

“Ye begged me to.”

“I begged you to come? I told you to stay away!”

“Yer letter said ye were afraid.”

Mary’s face paled and her eyes grew wide. “Oh, no. You got the wrong letter.”

“Ye wrote two?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Laird Barde had to know I’d try to send a missive to you. So I wrote one for him to intercept. The other was meant to keep you away until I could try to escape. I knew if I told you the truth, you’d come after me.”

“Aye. I did.”

“Oh, Eaden. I tried to tell you I was all right and I would write again later. But the one meant for Laird Barde said he was holding me against my will. How did they get mixed up? We were so careful.”

Eaden grunted. “I would imagine he intercepted them both and sent the one guaranteed to bring me to ye.”

“Why did you come alone?”

“There wasnae time to form an army,” he replied. “I suggest ye mount up. We are likely to have company soon, and I’m no’ so firm on my horse today.”

Mary eyed him closely. “Where are you hurt?”

Eaden snorted. “Where am I no’ hurt?” He dismissed her concern impatiently. “Climb up here.”

They both caught the sound of hoof beats coming from the north and looked up. Eaden nudged Starnie to a large rock and Mary scrambled onto his back. Standing just off the trail, they waited as the riders drew near.

A bark alerted them as Sorcha bounded into the glen and danced gleefully about Starnie’s legs. The horsemen rode right behind her, Ranald at their head. At his command, they reined to a stop.

He gave Mary a nod of reassurance, then stared at his brother. “Ye look like hell.”

Eaden grimaced. “Thank ye.”

“Ranald, I am so glad to see you.”

“Now there’s a proper greeting.” Ranald turned his attention to her. “I trust ye are in better shape than Himself?”

“I am fine, Ranald. But I would like a moment alone to talk to Eaden. Now you and your soldiers are here, perhaps we could have a bit of time? He’s been worried about being followed.”

Ranald shrugged. “Of course. He’s in no shape to beat ye or act on any of the other murderous thoughts running through his head right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, from the way he’s sitting on his horse, I’d wager a few broken ribs. And from the cut above his eye, he’s probably seeing at least two of ye right now.” Ranald tilted his head in assessment. “By the color of those bruises, it looks like someone has worked him over good. I’d no’ be surprised if he pisses blood for a bit.”

“Enough!” Eaden growled. “Watch the road and leave yer comments behind yer teeth or see if I don’t keep them there for ye.”

“Braw words,” Ranald tossed over his shoulder as he reined his horse around. “Ye have an hour. ‘Twas all I could get the king to agree to before he sets siege to Bellecourt Castle. Look to the road,” he ordered his soldiers. They spread out, leaving Mary and Eaden alone.

“Well, my dear. Ye have my undivided attention. What is it ye wish to discuss?”

Mary jerked her gaze from Ranald. “Did he say the king is on his way to Bellecourt?”

“Nay. He said the king is waiting, however impatiently. I would guess he has made himself at home at Scott Castle.”

“Why would the king lay siege to Bellecourt?” Mary asked cautiously.

“It seems the king once knew yer mother.”

Mary looked away. Eaden nudged her shoulder. “Mary. Look at me. The king gave yer mother the necklace ye wear when they parted. `Twas a chaotic time between him and King David. After David’s release by the English, Robert was relieved of his station and returned home. Yer ma had already left Edinburgh and they never saw each other again. He told me she left to live with a cousin. She never told him she carried his child.”

“Would it have mattered?” Mary asked bitterly.

“The king has many children. Several are no’ legitimate. He acknowledges all of them.” Eaden gently took Mary’s chin in his hand, forcing her to look round at him. “Yer ma did what she thought was right. She may have felt she had no choice. But she raised ye, and `tis what matters right now.”

“You aren’t still angry with me?”

Eaden sighed. “Ye dinnae trust me and ye ran away. The king has threatened me with my land and title yet again—this time should I no’ bring ye home. I’ve had the hell beat out of me and spent the past several hours in Laird Barde’s stinking prison. Right now I’m tired and wet and hungry.” He flashed her a grin. “I’m no’ still angry.”

Mary nodded slowly. “Ranald told me Isobel is dead.”

“Aye.”

“Did you love her?”

Eaden made a rasping sound in the back of his throat. “There was never love between us. We had an arrangement, nothing more.”

“
We
have an arrangement,” Mary said softly.

“Nay. We have a marriage.”

“I can still see her . . .”

“‘Twas no’ my doing. I dinnae invite her there.”

Mary sighed. “I see that now. I think I knew from the beginning, but I was too shocked and upset to realize it. Why did it hurt so much?”

“Perhaps ye love me a wee bit, though ye’ve no’ said it.”

“Is that what fills my heart each time I look at you?”

“Aye. And I would know. I dishonored ye by forcing ye into this marriage, though at the time it was no’ a choice for me, either. No matter had the king said ‘aye’ to yer request for a divorce, I could no’ allow it.”

“Why?”

“`Tis hard to explain. I think it’s called ‘love.’”

Mary smiled. “I like the sound of that. Can we go home now?”

“Nay.”

Mary blinked at him in surprise.

“Ranald gave us an hour. I intend to use a few more minutes of it.”

“But you’re injured,” Mary protested, though a streak of warmth and excitement flashed through her.

Eaden motioned for her to dismount, following to stand before her. “Nay so bad as I cannae kiss my wife.”

He gathered her carefully in his arms and slid his lips tantalizingly across hers. Mary curled her arms about his neck and returned his kiss with fervor, opening her mouth and twining her tongue in a welcoming dance with his. Shaken to her very core, she lost herself in his hungry caresses. Running her hands through his hair, she brushed against the side of his face, and recoiled as she touched the caked blood. But Eaden simply pulled her closer, ignoring the wound.

Finally, he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers, his breath coming fast between his parted lips.

“I’m so sorry they did this to you,” Mary murmured achingly. Eaden winced as he shrugged. She touched his face. “Does this hurt?”

“Nay so much. But yer fingers are setting fires in me that will be a long time putting out.”

Mary smiled knowingly. She ran her fingers lightly over his ribs. “How many are broken?”

“I’d guess one or two are cracked.”

“Am I hurting you, now?” She cupped her hands around his arms and slid them up to his neck, massaging the taut muscles.

Eaden closed his eyes. “Nay.”

“And this?” She kissed his chin. He grinned but did not open his eyes. She pulled her hands down the front of his chest. “Here?”

“Ye ask a lot, lass.”

Her hands dipped lower and he grabbed her wrists. She glanced up and found his smoldering gaze locked on her.

“I’ll answer ye after the healer binds my ribs.”

They approached Scott Castle, Eaden, Mary and Ranald at the front, the soldiers fanned out in a vanguard behind them. The king’s standard flapped in the breeze, and Mary’s heart quickened in anticipation. The gates opened wide as they crossed the double moat. Reining Starnie to a halt in the middle of the bailey, they dismounted, Eaden leaning awkwardly against the beast until a stable lad caught his reins.

A troop of soldiers marched from the castle, forming a double line that parted to form a protective path. A man, instantly recognizable as the king, strode toward them. Mary’s stomach did a flip to think she laid eyes on her father for the first time. She dropped into a curtsy, bowing her head. Eaden stood, canted to one side to relieve the pressure on his ribs.

“Ye took yer time, Scott,” the king grumbled.

Eaden gave a pained shrug. “‘Twas easier the first time.”

“Looks as though someone laid a truncheon to ye.”

“Sire,” Eaden said formally, giving the king a quelling look. “May I present . . .”

“I ken the lass,” King Robert replied. He turned to Mary, the hard lines of his face softening instantly. “She has the look of her ma.”

He moved closer, taking Mary’s hands in his, drawing her to her feet. Acutely aware of her bedraggled appearance, she looked down in embarrassment. The king patted her hands reassuringly. “Nay, lass. I know ye’ve had a hard time of it. We’ll discuss it later. Ye make me feel young again to see ye. `Tis as though I am seeing yer ma again for the first time.”

Mary peeked at him and saw the smile on his face reflecting, not her appearance, but some blissful memory, and her resentment for her mother’s years of longing fled. However it had ended, there had once been happiness for them both, and she found forgiveness in her heart.

“We have much to speak of, lass. Tell me. When will ye be able to return to Troon with me?”

Mary gently eased her hands away and moved to her husband’s side. Leaning into him, she laid a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry, Sire, but I do not wish to go to Troon.”

She looked at Eaden who regarded her with an unreadable expression. “My home is here. If he’ll have me.”

Eaden’s arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her close. His grunt of pain sounded low and Mary chose to believe it reflected her weight against his injured ribs and not the anticipation of their life together. He tucked her against him, his mouth settling on hers with a swiftness she’d not thought possible in his condition. He shifted his weight, bringing her full against him as he kissed her thoroughly in front of the king, driving away any lingering reservations she may have had that he wanted her. She wrapped her arms about his neck and answered his kiss with a passionate promise of her own.

The subtle cough of a guard reminded they had an audience and Mary gently pulled away, a smile on her lips.

King Robert sighed. “So, `tis the way of it?”

Mary regarded the king. “Aye, Sire. I belong here.”

“Then I will remain for a few days and we will talk.” He tossed Eaden a stern look. “I want to hear of grandbairns soon, Scott.”

Eaden gave an amused grunt. “We will make it a priority, Sire.”

Mary’s hand slid around to lightly touch her tummy. A quick glance at her husband caught his speculative look, and a slow smile spread across his face. His hand covered hers as he turned back to the king.

“Our very first priority.”