Belonging to a Highlander Read online

  But he wasn't.

  Eagerness, or perhaps anxiousness, kept him in the hall.

  Jamie had pardoned him, albeit grudgingly, yet Hugh felt he was perpetually falling, unraveling, as though he tottered on the edge of a cliff and he couldn't control the downfall that was to come.

  There was a sense he had, a sense that he was not free just yet, even if he left with the rise of the sun as planned.

  The sight of Catriona playing with the young child across the hall only served to entertain him. Catriona and himself had had no quarrel since the first night, but then he had not nettled her either. At present, she looked happy and at ease.

  Two days had passed since half his men had begun their journey home, and now it was time for him to follow with the rest. After reconsidering his position at McBruiey Keep, he decided it would be prudent to keep a dozen of his troops with him. He still had an angry Laird McAlison to remember, since it would seem he had not only failed the man, but had absconded with the captive McAlison sent him for. The extra time here had been nothing but a waste in relation to him freeing himself from his debt. A swell of excitement and longing for home rose in his chest.

  When he’d set out on this mission that was to be his last, he had already reconciled himself to becoming a laird in truth. He had decided his future over a year ago, in the trenches of Mercia battling alongside the Mercian King against the Normans.

  His days as a mercenary were undoubtedly over, would have been over sooner. It wasn’t that he was getting older, passing his thirtieth year already. It wasn’t that the number of his men was decreasing, far from it. He was leaving this life behind because he desired to be the laird he had returned to his home to be.

  Debts in blood stood in his way, staining his hands crimson and his heart a shade blacker with every battle.

  He had crossed all debts out—except one.

  "Fook," Hugh said on a sigh as he continued to watch Catriona play across the hall with the sprightly wee lass. Only a flicker of curiosity made him wonder to whom the girl belonged. She was obviously cared for and had the same coloring as Catriona and Laird McBruiey, making him wonder if she were kin to them.

  Actually, the bonny child looked a whole lot like Catriona, only the young lass's golden brown hair was full and bouncy with curls as the two played.

  He continued to watch them, over the brim of the alehorn as he tipped the rim against his lips. He noted that young Gilbert was not sniffing at her heels as he had been since their arrival.

  Why couldn’t he tear his eyes away?

  Full of annoyance, Hugh forced himself to stand and started toward the bedchamber Jamie had offered him, but didn’t take two full steps before another lass caught his eye. A pretty serving girl stopped from gathering empty ale pitchers from the table, left over from the evening meal, and stared back boldly with a come-hither clearly pronounced her in her hazel eyes.

  The lass was curvaceous without being plump and remarkably pretty. Her station as a servant in the McBruiey Keep had not roughened her in the least. But then, none of these McBruieys seemed to be in any pitiful shape, a fact that served to sour his mood once again, only momentarily, but he hoped the smile he gave the wench would turn all that around.

  She came to him, a tempting turn to her full lips.

  Oh, aye, this one would do nicely to warm him through the night.

  A set of plump breasts pressed against the top of her shift causing decadent thoughts to enter his mind.

  Her hips were wide, good for riding hard, and they swayed as she walked the short space between them. She reached up and ran her hands up his chest.

  "You’re the McCross I've heard so much of?" she said sweetly. "The lasses in the kitchens have made me fair jealous, they have."

  "Is that so, sweet?" Hugh ran his hands into her hair. "I've given a few of them much to speak of," he said with a wink.

  She giggled.

  Hugh angled his head to kiss her, turned her chin upward to sample her full lips—

  "McCross."

  He hitched at the light voice, the pitch so familiar after the few days since arriving here. He groaned inwardly, but only let a light sigh escape his lips. Hugh erected himself, noting the drastic change in the demeanor of the lass he had been about to kiss. Her eyes were downcast, and she seemed almost wooden in his arms of a sudden. True, they were about to do something naughty, but their potential tryst was nothing for her to be ashamed of. Such a thing was normal for a lass of her station.

  Hugh turned his head to see Catriona staring at them, looking down her nose at him in particular.

  "What?" he fairly growled.

  "Your fornicating is a sin," Catriona said lightly.

  She shocked him.

  He wanted to laugh. Suddenly, taunting Catriona seemed more intriguing than bedding the wench.

  He set the pretty thing away from him to face the woman with the shrewish pinch to her lips. "Another time, sweet," he said without giving the serving lass another look.

  Flares of blue shot from Catriona's eyes, brightened by her anger with him, a rosy tint staining her cheeks, too.

  Turning fully to her, Hugh hooked his thumbs in his wide leather belt.

  "Now you desire my attention, hellcat?"

  She had the audacity to snort at him. "I do'na desire anything of you, except that you respect Jamie's hall and his servants. I am sure she is much relieved I came when I did to stop your mauling."

  Hugh gave a short bark of laughter. "Saved her, did you?" He laughed again. "Oh, lass, on the contrary. I had every intention of respecting her verra weel."

  Catriona's eyes widened incredulously. "Oh, you are atrocious! I heard of your lecherous ways in the camp. Do you breed with anything that walks?" She started to flounce away, but Hugh reached out and caught her arm, staying her by pulling her back.

  Hugh crooked his head to look over her shoulder. She was fairly fuming. Quick breaths lifted her chest, and she jerked her head at an angle to show him how much he infuriated her.

  "No, you don’t," Hugh said. "You disrupted my evening, lassie. Now I'll be having some sort of entertainment in replacement." He ignored her jab about breeding, for now.

  She blanched, her eyes growing wide. "I do'na ken what exactly you're expecting." She slammed her slipper down onto his boot, which only stirred a laugh from Hugh and from her a wince. She gasped, her cheeks coloring even more.

  Hugh tilted back his head and gave a hearty laugh. "Surely no that. I've only just narrowly escaped wedding you, and I'll no tempt the fates so again." But his eyes did glide coolly down her svelte frame, and grudgingly he noted the sumptuous curves of her bosom and hips he had not allowed himself to see in her habit before. Hugh swallowed roughly. "I'm no fool."

  She glared. "That is entirely debatable."

  "Is that so?" he asked with laughter. "You ken, I'd no figured you to be so much a nag."

  Her spine stiffened, and she joined her hands together in front of her. "I'm no nag. I simply could no see you leave my company after all this time withoot nettling you once more." She gave him a shrug. "I still say I saved the poor thing." A hint of mischief entered her eyes.

  He snorted, glancing to where the vixen had departed to, where he might chase after her when this little confrontation was over and Catriona was placated enough to go back to playing with the child. "You'll have to convince me some other way, for since we arrived you've been naught else."

  Her hands went quickly to her hips. "You think I'm a scold because I stopped your fornication?"

  Hugh's brows shot up. "Fornication sounds so harsh, lass. I am no a married mon. I do'na have anyone to answer to."

  "You're shameless is what you are," she said, and started to stalk around him.

  Hugh yet again took her by the arm and turned with her so he was now facing the hall. "You ken, for living most your life in an abbey you're no exactly as pure as your brother would have others believe." He loosened his grip on her arm, but still kept her there
so she couldn't flee just yet. "And still I wonder why it was so important for a lass of your birth to be kept among the sisters, especially when she has no betrothed." He watched as her eyes sparked at his comment. A wee bit of trepidation entered her stare.

  "Taunt me all you like, McCross, but I'm no the one spiriting innocent lasses off in the middle of the night. Of the two of us, I am the only one who comes oot with honorable purposes."

  "I did'na spirit you off, lass. You fairly threw yourself into my arms claiming to be Tamsin McLaren."

  To Hugh's delight, she gaped indignantly.

  At very least, his bantering with Catriona had loosened the anxiety tormenting him. Perhaps he need not find the other wench after all.

  "That is no what happened," Catriona snapped.

  Hugh lifted a dark brow. "I remember the night weel enough. Shall I recount the start of our little adventure for you?"

  His men had surrounded the abbey in the dead of night, a clear night with a full moon, so when the abbess came out to confront him, she could clearly see who they were up against.

  Relieved they were not Vikings, still the woman had refused.

  Catriona had then slipped past the elderly sisters and stomped toward him with purpose. He remembered her and his first thoughts upon seeing her with the moonlight shining down on her hair casting the long, wild tresses gold against the black of night.

  Perhaps she had taken him by such surprise that he did not have all his wits about him, or maybe he was so ready to see the task done…

  Her readiness to leave with him should have given some indication that she was not the woman he was there to take.

  She glared. "There is no need. I remember clearly enough." Her cheeks became rosy again.

  Hugh had wasted not a moment, sweeping her up onto his destrier with him. He had been so angry. Angry with McAlison. Angry with himself.

  He shook off the memory.

  "'Tis a good thing your brother has been so understanding. We never would have suited."

  "'Tis a true blessing." Her eyes glittered, and she yanked her arm from his touch, fairly baring her teeth at him. "At verra least, we agree on something. I can'na wait until the morn, to see you mount that monstrous beast you call a horse and see you march yourself oot of the gates."

  "Lass, why do you no go run along and busy yourself with vexing someone besides me?"

  She gaped again.

  "Where has your lapdog run off to?" Hugh asked.

  Her brow furrowed. "I own no such animal."

  He laughed. "Gilbert. Where has Gilbert run off to?"

  Anger sparked at him. "How dare you refer to my dear cousin as a dog!"

  "Do'na fash yourself, lass. I meant no harm. I was only going to suggest you go pester him for a wee bit. He is usually nipping your heels."

  "I had no idea you kept such a close watch, McCross. I'll have to keep your close scrutiny in mind until tomorrow comes."

  "And such a blessed day it shall be, hellcat. You are one to talk aboot scrutiny, ending my dalliance the way you just did."

  They stood like that a drawn out moment, but then a commotion across the hall brought both their senses back to the present, turning both their stares toward the doors.

  Jamie was there with a harried looking man, the messenger winded, and his ruddy cheeks as bright as the tip of his nose. He looked as though he had ridden a long way in a short time.

  Hugh felt apprehension snaking up his spine as he and Catriona both became rapt spectators while the laird waved the man off toward his steward as he ripped the seal away and unrolled the scroll handed him.

  Minimally, Hugh noted Catriona's hand flutter to her belly, the tensing of her shoulders.

  A flash of fury washed over the young laird's face only a moment before he turned on his heel and bellowed, "McCross, come with me."

  Chapter Seven

  Once more Hugh found himself pulled away to Jamie's business chambers, though this time he had a sickening feeling that he would not be leaving the same.

  Jamie retreated into the room, away from Hugh, to the table heaped with parchment, and dropped like a stone into a seat on the opposite side. He lifted and read the missive again, color rising in his cheeks. The younger man looked a mix of frantic nerves and cold dread.

  When Jamie finished the second reading, the distinct sound of parchment crushed by a fist carried to Hugh from across the chamber.

  Jamie stood, walked to the fire, and tossed in the crumpled ball. He paced in thought, his brow furrowed broodingly, his emotions fairly pouring from him.

  "This is what I had feared, and the news suits me verra ill. But, untouched or no, there is only one way to make this right."

  Alarm shot through him and Hugh took a step forward.

  "But, what of no one kenning her ident—"

  "They do," Jamie said, interrupting. He sighed wearily. "Those who matter do, and that is what is important." He growled low, his hands closing into giant fists. "Damn you, McCross."

  Hugh didn’t know what to say.

  Who exactly mattered so much? He had had a sense that Jamie had been keeping something from him all this time, and now it seemed he would at last learn what that was.

  "My sister already has enough of a burden weighing on her from the stigma of her birth. I'll no have this to maim her, too." Jamie raked a hand through his hair. "Foolish lass," he muttered.

  Hugh suddenly found himself arguing on Catriona's behalf. "She did what she did oot of loyalty to a friend. Surely you can find some compassion."

  "No when her mistake binds her to the likes of you."

  Rage mottled inside Hugh. "I've offered an apology, McBruiey. I have given you my word that the lass came to no harm under my brief care. Now, I'll take no more of your reproachful words. You do'na ken anything aboot me."

  "I find no pleasure in forcing my sister on any mon. She is a true gift, McCross, and if I ever hear of you mistreating her, Dia, I will come down on you with the wrath of hell itself."

  A flustered feeling came over Hugh, one baring the strongest tides of panic. "'Tis no secret that I do'na care to have a wife yet, but I'll no mistreat any woman." He scoffed angrily at Jamie.

  Had he really accepted a wife?

  "Och, 'tis good for you then. She'll have a contingent of my men at her disposal, until I can visit in the spring and assess her conditions."

  It took a moment for those words to sift through Hugh's thoughts of impending nuptials. "What?" he asked with some amount of surprise.

  "She'll have the men," Jamie said, cutting him off. "My men at her disposal."

  Hugh lifted a brow. "There's no need—" He stopped himself. He was the villain here, after all. Allowing the men to accompany the lass was the least he could do to assuage this brother's wounded heart. A silent snarl ran along Hugh's nose, but he nodded. Being viewed as a dishonorable man was not to his liking. For all his life, he had done everything to prove his honor.

  "You resent this?" Jamie asked with a snarl. "Mayhap you should question yourself for being involved in such a nasty business as that of a mercenary in the verra first place!"

  "I'm no a mercenary!" Hugh thundered. "No anymore. And even when I was, I've never done a dishonorable thing."

  "Och, taking an innocent from a place of refuge and devotion." Jamie's brows rose. "That was completely honorable, I suppose?"

  Hugh blew out a hard breath. "'Twas highly dishonorable, and believe me, I've regretted every second of the night I took her and every second since."

  "I'm sure you do, now saddled with an unwanted bride."

  Hugh cut a glare at the other man. "I had no other choice."

  Jamie was silent a moment. "Aye, aye you did. 'Tis to both our dissatisfaction that you did'na take another course." He stalked to a table once again and took up a thick parchment. "'Tis more to Catriona's loss." He ripped the vellums down the middle before stalking to the fire to toss the scattering pages in.

  Hugh swallowed hard and shifted, watc
hing the edges of the top parchment turn red with flames as the whole of it curled up from the corners.

  "That was a marriage contract," Jamie said. "Between my sister and the eldest son of King Ethelwulf of Kent and now King of Wessex, too." He paused, looking at the last fiery pieces of vellum as they danced with the flames until they were no more. "Catriona would have been a queen one day," he said quietly.

  Dumbfounded, Hugh turned to fully face the other highlander. "What?" he asked. "But—"

  "But, she is a bastard," Jamie said, his brows drawing up high as he turned to look at Hugh, the light of the fire catching on the side of his face and making his features appear more chiseled than the angles of his face actually were. "Of a bastard. Aye, but King McAlpin made a fine compact with the King of Wessex in order to see his favorite niece wear a crown." Jamie paused. He glared at Hugh, the flames glittering in his eyes as he slowly shook his head in remorse. "You forget Catriona is a beautiful woman, or mayhap you haven’t noticed. I do'na think the king's son would have complained much of her birth." He paused again, clearing his throat of the emotion that had welled inside him. "Britain is plagued with Vikings. Their raids have pushed Northumbrian lands to the brink of turmoil. You ken that. Two hundred of our fine highland warriors were to go to defend Wessex and their allies should the need arise in exchange for Ethelstan taking Catriona as his wife." He turned to Hugh, a burning hate radiating from him. "You ken, her former betrothed is already a sub-king to his father? Do you realize what you have torn from my sister?" He looked down Hugh scathingly. "You deserve much less. You certainly do'na deserve her." He pointed into the fire. "There burn the remains of the contract of her betrothal, along with the letter from the king denouncing the contract, for he has heard rumor from his spies that Catriona is no longer fit to be a future queen, as she is no longer the pure bride he was promised. Because of you."

  ****

  Hugh slammed out of Jamie's business chambers, stalking with a fury toward Catriona on the other side of the hall. Oh, how he wanted to pluck the lass up and give her a good shake for what she had done in her foolishness.