The Highlander's Outlaw Bride (21 page)

Her hand drifted to her middle and she jerked it away when she realized what she was doing. There was no reason to wonder. She was certain she was with child, and she hardened her heart against the bairn’s father. Reportedly, he hunted for his cousin Malcolm who’d apparently instigated some form of poisoning at the castle. He’d not bothered to send word of explanation or apology to her, and as far as she was concerned, the contract between them was broken. She owed allegiance only to Wyndham. And her bairn.

“Anna! Anna!” Jamie’s voice resounded as he raced into the hall, leaving the heavy front door open in his haste. Tam bounded behind him, barking as he leapt about, tail waving happily.

“What is it, Jamie?” Brianna broke from her thoughts to Jamie’s soaring excitement, motioning for the dog to settle. Jamie skidded across the floor, tilting himself full force into her arms. “We have company, Anna!” he announced, his eyes shining. It was a rarity that strangers rode openly to Wyndham, and he was clearly elated. “I will tell Da!”

Though pleased at the progress between him and their sire, she was uncertain how Da would react to the news of guests. She patted Jamie’s arm and shook her head. “Let us see who it is, first, Jamie.” She smiled to take the sting from her words. “They may not stay long, and we dinnae wish to disturb him over nothing.”

Jamie pouted as she took his hand. “Come with me and help greet our guests.” Being given such a grown-up task obviously pleased him, for his face brightened and he skipped beside her, his spirits revived.

They stepped onto the front steps of the manor house. Two men dismounted their horses, a group of Wyndham folk clustered about them. One broke from the crowd and strode toward her. Brianna took one look at him and spun abruptly on her heel.

Conn caught the edge of the door before it slammed shut. He crossed the threshold into the hall and stopped, staring at the woman regarding him with narrowed eyes.

“I am here,” he managed in an even tone as he registered her anger. “Admittedly a few days late, but I am here.” He was worn out and wanted a bath, a nap, and her, though not necessarily in that order. He knew he sounded gruff and looked even rougher, but he had paused barely long enough to clean and dress his wound and change into clothes that were now as rumpled as he felt.

He was tired of treachery and ruin, and he wanted to bury himself at Morven and set the wrongs to right. But he had one more duty to attend to first—her. He could tell she was surprised to see him, but she lifted her chin and stepped forward. Fury flashed from her eyes and he could feel the scorching heat of her anger.

“A few days?” she scoffed, her voice scathing and low. “Hardly!”

Her scorn scraped at him.
How dare she deride my decisions? Setting the wedding back a few days—Three? Four? —whatever—could hardly make a difference.
“Damn it, Brianna, I dinnae stay away on purpose—and I did send word I would be late.” He clenched his teeth. Someday she would tame that temper of hers. But he was too tired to get sucked into her annoyance, and he crossed his arms over his chest, stonewalling her defiance.

“Och, yer man delivered yer message—nearly two weeks after the wedding. So why bother now? Had ye cared to ask, ye wouldnae have wasted yer trip.” She leaned forward, her mouth forming her words carefully. “The wedding is off!”

Her statement struck him as unreasonable. Perhaps she did not understand the seriousness of Malcolm’s actions. “Ye will be pleased to know I finally caught Malcolm. He is the reason I wasnae here—” Damn, he had lost track of time. Had it been that long?

Brianna coldly supplied the answer. “Two weeks ago.”

Conn gave a brief nod acknowledging her words. “He hid himself at Corfin Castle and nearly killed Bray,” he continued. Even now he felt the same hollow fear to remember Bray more dead than alive. Brianna shot him a startled look and stepped quickly past him, scanning the thinning crowd. Only Gillis rode with him, and his dusty, rumpled clothing matched Conn’s. Brianna turned questioning eyes back to him.

“Is Bray well?”

Conn took a deep breath. “Aye,” he said shortly. He had no desire to relive the past days—weeks—now. Out of the nightmare all he wanted was for Brianna to return with him to Morven. Judging by her less-than-cordial reception, she had no intention of going anywhere. He simply was not in the mood to put up with it.

“Get whatever ye need,” he told her shortly. “We will return to Morven as soon as we have watered the horses.”

He shifted uncomfortably as Brianna’s eyes widened, her cheeks flaming with color. She advanced on him slowly, and he wondered at the folly of standing his ground.

“Ye think I will go with ye? Have ye completely addled yer mind? How dare ye ply me with sweet, empty words? The first time something arises, ye forget yer promises and make all decisions on yer own, not bothering with the courtesy to give me word of yer plans. I trusted yer word—I believed the lies ye wrote, but never again, Conn MacLaurey. Never again.”

She jabbed a finger at his chest angrily. “I once was the wife of a man who saw to his own pleasures long before my barest comfort, and I willnae endure it again. I told ye I willnae marry a man I dinnae trust, and I wouldnae marry ye if ye were the last man on earth!”

“Ye wouldnae?” Conn returned, hating that he sounded like a five-year-old, and angry she could provoke him so. “Ye are betrothed to me, like it or not, and here is where this argument ends.”

“Save it for the poor lass who has the misfortune to marry ye!” she shouted. “I would rather be turned out to starve than marry the likes of ye.”

Conn stopped in his tracks, a blistering reprimand hanging on the tip of his tongue. The line of her body, the bright spots of color on her too-pale face told him she was deadly serious. The fine trembling of her hands, the quick, shallow breaths betrayed the depth of her emotion, and he held his peace for a long moment, hoping to give her time to calm down and come to her senses.

Brianna bristled. Two weeks ago, she would have forgiven him anything, especially to avenge Bray. One week ago, word from him would have made a difference, though he would have been hard pressed to present it, and she would have seen to it he paid dearly for his omission. His callous disregard for her and his rejection of his promise to include her in his decisions still stung, however unintentional it may have been.

She tossed her head, loosening the tight muscles in her neck and back. “Ye can hie yerself back to Corfin Castle. When ye find the betrothal contract that bids us wed
two weeks
ago
, burn it!”

Tam’s low whine tore her attention from Conn, and she glance down. Jamie stared at her, his eyes huge in his small face as a single tear slid down one cheek. Tam wound his body in front of the lad, providing a physical barrier around him.

Brianna caressed the top of Jamie’s head. “Jamie, be a good lad and go find Gavin. Take Tam with ye. Look near the smithy’s shed.”

With an uncertain glance at her and the men about them, Jamie sidled from the hall, his hand buried in Tam’s thick ruff. Brianna turned back to Conn.

“I could petition the king to confiscate yer lands for breaking the contract. I would rather ye simply walk away.”

He looked at her askance. “I havenae broken the contract. ’Tis still intact as far as I am concerned.”

“Read the wording, Connor. It specified a wedding two weeks ago.”

“Gather yer things. We will still have the wedding at Morven.”

Brianna drew back, her brows arched, chin tucked close as she pinned him with a regretful stare. “I told ye, I want a marriage based on respect. Ye asked what that meant—since ye havenae learned, I will tell ye. It is trust and consideration, not pretty words that lose their meaning before the ink is dry. Had ye considered me in yer decisions and actions, I would have banded with yer cause, trusted ye to keep yer word.”

“I was sick and lost track of the days. Capturing Malcolm took longer than I expected.”

“Aye. I sent a man to find out why ye dinnae arrive for the wedding. But ye chose not to send word. I willnae be forever chasing after ye, wondering each day if ye will be home or nae, questioning how I fit into yer life.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Ye are still a lad, playing at being a laird. Ye have a lot of growing up to do before ye take on other obligations—such as a wife. If ye cannae keep up with yer daily responsibilities, hire a steward or nursemaid who will.”

Conn’s face flushed and he scowled. “That is yer final word? Ye willnae honor the contract?”

She turned cold eyes on him. “I have already burned mine.”

With a glare to match her own, he strode to the fireplace where a small banked fire lay in readiness for the evening. He pulled a length of paper from his sporran, and, after a brief hesitation, held it to the embers until it caught fire, letting it burn until the flames reached his fingers. He dropped the remnant onto the hearth, where it glowed briefly red as it was reduced to a pile of pale ash and thin smoke.

* * *

Jamie threw himself onto the chair at Gavin’s side and scowled mightily. “Anna willnae talk to me.”

Gavin stared at the lad. Were he older, he would look very formidable, but for now, he just looked cross. Cross and unhappy.

“She doesnae like me anymore,” he wailed. Pouring out his woes onto Gavin’s lap, he stomped his feet, demanding his world back to its rightful order.

Gavin ruffled the lad’s hair. “I will see if I can help. Do ye know where she is?”

“In her room. She willnae speak to me.”

With a frown, Gavin rose, heartened at the bright grin that leapt to Jamie’s face. He strode up the stairs, confident he would hear nothing more than morning sickness or such she wished to keep from general knowledge.
Though she refused to wed the laird, she has a good head on her shoulders and wouldnae mope about.
His step quickened. What if there was a problem with the bairn?
Surely she willnae put her life at risk. Everyone will know of the babe soon enough.

He tapped lightly on her door and waited, but heard no answer. Testing the latch, he found it opened without protest. He stepped inside the room, hesitant lest he disturb or embarrass her. Or himself.

Seated on the cushioned bench at the window, she glanced at him over her shoulder. Gavin stopped mid-stride, shock arresting him as he saw the drawn look to her face, the tired lines of her body.
St. Andrew’s teeth!
He swore under his breath.
I should have taught that young whelp a lesson when I had a chance. She doesnae deserve this.

He crossed the room and seated himself on the edge of the seat, an arm’s length from the temptation to soothe away her worries. “Och, lass. Is it as bad as all this? Where is the daring lass who stole her own cattle back from the reivers? Ye willnae marry the laird—ye have what ye want. Why the despondency?”

His words had the desired effect. She drew herself up like a wildcat preparing to strike. “Dinnae tell me how to act. I have shouldered the burdens of this clan for nearly two years. I believe I have earned the right to a day or two of quiet—I certainly willnae have peace from the likes of ye.”

“Ye are expecting a bairn for certain?”

“Aye. But it doesnae change my decision on the marriage. I willnae marry Laird MacLaurey, nor will I tell him of the bairn.”

Gavin’s eyebrows rose and he fought to keep his jaw from dropping open. “What do ye think he will do once he discovers he has a child?”

Brianna shifted on the cushion, drawing her knees to her chin as she tucked her skirts about her feet. “He has too much on his mind setting Morven to rights. He isnae likely to consider me or Wyndham’s plight.”

“Ye have no intention of telling him?”

“Why complicate his life? He will marry a woman who will give him plenty of children. I willnae give up the bairn to him to raise, nor will I have him tugged back and forth between Wyndham and Morven, uncertain where home is.”

Gavin was not taken in by her firm yet flippant statement. He had no doubt she would keep the bairn’s parentage a secret, but there was a sadness in her eyes that belied her attempt at bold detachment. “There is another side to this ye havenae spoken of. Tell me why, knowing ye carry his child, ye burned the marriage contract and sent him home with a flea in his ear.”

He knew she heard him. Her fingers twisted in her lap even as she returned to stare out the window into the darkness. At last she faced him, and for the first time he realized how much the cares of her life weighed on her.

“I saw him once when I was a lass. Golden-haired and charming. He had ridden to Wyndham with his da. There was some issue about buying horses. I was seven or eight at the time, but he was kind to me and dinnae mind when I followed him around as they studied each animal. I think I fell in love with him that day.”

She sighed and shrugged. “But I had no choice in who I married, and we never crossed paths again. I heard the gossip, of his easy way with the lasses, yet believed I could be the one who settled him down. However, I was soon married off to Mungo, and I quickly lost interest in dreaming about love—discovered it was a cruel faerie tale at best.”

“Then why not give it a chance now?”

“I wanted to. I did—eventually. But I still dinnae believe in love. I want nothing less than respect, and he cannae give me that.”