Claimed by the Highland Warrior Page 2

  Angus moved forwards from behind Nairna, his hand grasping a spear in a silent threat. Other MacPherson fighters circled the English soldiers, but they had already begun their departure.

  Nairna couldn’t quite catch her breath at her father’s blatant bribery. Thirty pennies. She felt as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs. He’d handed it over, without a second thought.

  Though she didn’t speak, her father eyed her. ‘A man’s life is more important than coins.’

  ‘I know it.’ Nairna gripped her hands together, trying to contain her agitation. ‘But what will you do when they come back, demanding more? Will you continue to pay Lord Harkirk until they’ve seized Ballaloch and made prisoners of our people?’

  Her father strode over to the fallen body of the prisoner. ‘We’re alive, Nairna. Our clan is one of the few left untouched. And by God, if I have to spend every last coin to ensure their safety, I will do so. Is that clear?’

  She swallowed hard as Hamish rolled the man over, easing him up. ‘You shouldn’t have to bribe them. It’s not right.’

  There was no difference between the English soldiers and cheating merchants, as far as Nairna was concerned. Men took advantage, whenever it was allowed. She knelt down beside her father, trying to calm her roiling emotions.

  ‘Well, lad, let’s see who you are,’ Hamish said, pulling off the hood.

  Nairna’s heart stopped when she saw the prisoner’s face.

  For it was Bram MacKinloch. The husband she hadn’t seen since the day she’d married him, seven years ago.

  Pale moonlight illuminated the room and Bram opened his eyes. Every muscle in his body ached, and he swallowed hard. Thirsty. So thirsty.

  ‘Bram,’ came a soft voice. ‘Are you awake?’

  He turned towards the sound and wondered if he was dead. He had to be, for he knew that voice. It was Nairna, the woman he’d dreamed of for so long.

  A cup was raised to his lips and he drank the cool ale, grateful that she’d anticipated the need. She moved closer and lit an oil lamp to illuminate the darkness. The amber glow revealed her features, and he stared at her, afraid the vision would fade away if he blinked.

  Her mouth was soft, her cheekbones well formed and her long brown hair fell freely across her shoulders. She’d become a beautiful woman.

  He wanted to touch her. Just to know that she was real.

  Longing swelled through him, mingled with bittersweet regret. His hand was shaking when he reached out to her. As if asking forgiveness, he stroked her palm, wishing things could have been different.

  She didn’t pull away. Instead, her hand curled around his, her face filled with confusion. ‘I can’t believe you’re alive.’

  He sat up and she moved beside him. With one hand clasped in hers, he touched her nape. The light scent of flowers and grass seemed to emanate from her, and he leaned closer, drinking in the sight.

  God help him, he needed her right now. He threaded his hands in her hair, lifting her face to his. He took her mouth in a kiss, for she was the hope and life he’d craved for so long.

  Nairna’s heart was beating so fast, she hardly knew what to do. She tasted the heady danger within his kiss, of a man who didn’t care about all the lost years. Bram had never been much for talking, and without words, he told her how much he’d missed her.

  He kissed her as though he couldn’t get enough, as though she were an answered prayer. And in spite of everything, she found herself kissing him back.

  God above, she’d never expected this. Not in a thousand years. It was as if she were seeing a spirit, and when he bent to take her lips again, he convinced her that he was indeed made of flesh and blood.

  A tangled knot of emotions warred inside her. She gripped his lean shoulders, unable to stop the tears. She’d grieved for him, raged against the injustice of losing him. And when she’d finally accepted the dull ache of loss, Fate made a mockery of her grief by returning him.

  She was torn between happiness that he was here and her guilt of betrayal. She’d married someone else. And though Iver was dead and there was no shame in kissing Bram, it felt strange.

  His mouth moved against her cheek, along the line of her jaw. A spiral of desire tightened within her breasts, spearing down between her thighs. And when he pulled her down on top of him, she felt his heated arousal pressing against her.

  ‘Nairna,’ he whispered. His voice was husky, a deep bass note that rumbled against her throat. Her skin flushed, while warmth pooled within her body.

  She didn’t know where these feelings were coming from, but they terrified her. Bram’s hands moved down her back, bringing her hips against him. The sensation of his arousal cradled against her womanhood made her moist with wanting, her nipples tightening beneath her gown.

  His mouth captured hers in demanding possession. Every part of her body was attuned to his touch and the longer he kissed her, the more she wanted him. She envisioned lifting her skirts, feeling his hard naked body against her own.

  Confusion warred inside her, for she wasn’t supposed to respond this way to a man who was virtually a stranger. Caught between past and present, she didn’t know whether to trust her heart or her mind.

  Bram’s palm moved down her cheek, stroking her in a caress that evoked the feelings she’d tried to bury. His face was harrowed, as though he’d seen things he shouldn’t have. And he’d grown so terribly thin.

  ‘Bram, where have you been all this time?’

  He didn’t answer at first. Then he sat up, keeping her on his lap. His hands framed her face, as if he were trying to learn her features. She covered his hands with hers, staring into his eyes. Willing him to tell her the truth.

  ‘I was a prisoner at Cairnross.’

  She’d heard of the English Earl and his cruelty. Her heart bled at the thought of Bram enduring captivity for so long, in such a place.

  ‘I thought you were dead,’ she managed.

  He touched her as if he were afraid she might disappear. His roughened palms abraded her skin, his fingers trembling. ‘I thought you would have married another by now. That you’d found someone else.’

  I did, she nearly said, but stopped herself, not wanting to hurt him. She’d married Iver, desperately wanting a home and a family of her own. But now, it shamed her to think of what she’d done. It made her feel like she’d committed adultery, though she knew that wasn’t true.

  Her cheeks grew hot and she didn’t know how to tell him about the marriage. A tear spilled down her cheek, but whether it was from grief or joy, she couldn’t tell.

  Bram’s thumb brushed it away, and his hands moved down her shoulders, resting upon her waist. He drew her into his arms, caressing her back. ‘You’ve grown into a woman since I saw you last.’

  Nairna’s skin prickled. A latent fire seemed to rise up from within her, burning her flesh with need. His mouth bent to her throat, and she bit back a shuddering breath at the kindled sensations. His thumbs stroked lazy circles over her spine.

  But when he moved to the upper curve of her breasts, she panicked.

  ‘Bram, wait.’ She stood up, pushing him away. ‘I need to know what’s happened since you—’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he whispered, rising from the bed.

  He looked wild, his eyes blazing with fierce need. He reminded her of a savage tribesman who had come to claim his woman at last.

  For a long moment, he stared at her, as if he didn’t know what to do next. Before she could voice another question, he walked towards the door. He turned back again, his hand resting against the door frame. For a breathless moment, he studied her, as if making a decision.

  Then he left, without a word of explanation.

  Chapter Two

  Seven years earlier

  ‘For God’s sakes, Bram, keep your eyes upon your opponent!’ his father roared.

  Bram blinked, staring at Malcolm MacPherson who was attempting to stab him in the training match. He balanced his footing, trying to determi
ne where the dirk would slash next. Though both of them were sixteen, Malcolm had a stronger instinct for fighting.

  Bram lunged left, only to be slashed from the right. The blade didn’t cut his skin, but skidded off the chainmail armour his father had made him wear.

  He adjusted his position, trying again to find Malcolm’s weakness. For a time, he successfully defended himself, predicting where the next strike would come. He’d sparred often enough in the past, but not in front of so many people. He could feel the MacPherson chief watching him, as if determining his worth. His cheeks warmed, for he’d much rather fight a single opponent with no one staring.

  As the fight wore on, his attention began drifting again. He moved out of habit, and from his peripheral vision, he spied a maiden walking towards them. It was Malcolm’s sister Nairna, who was only a year younger than himself. He’d seen her before, but he’d never really noticed her.

  She wore a gown the colour of new spring grass, with an embroidered cap covering her long brown hair. The strands fell to her waist, and as she moved, he found himself entranced. He could sense her watching the fight.

  He barely missed the blade that came slashing towards his throat. Bram threw himself to the ground, grunting when Malcolm rolled him over and pinned him.

  ‘You let yourself be distracted by a girl?’ his opponent taunted. ‘Or were you wanting to wear her skirts?’

  The insult sent a haze of red surging through him. Bram released his rage, using the momentum to force Malcolm off him. In a ruthless motion, he twisted the young man’s wrist until he disarmed him, then lifted his dirk to Malcolm’s throat.

  ‘She’s your sister,’ he gritted out. ‘Show some respect.’ He held his position long enough to demonstrate that he’d held his own in this match, before rising and sheathing the blade.

  He strode away, not bothering to speak with his father or the chief of Ballaloch. His father had brought him here to visit over a fortnight ago, and Bram didn’t know why. He wasn’t included in the conversations between the two chiefs, but he knew they were watching him.

  He kept walking, not even looking where he was going, until a hand pressed a dripping cup of water into his palm. Bram stopped short and saw Nairna standing before him. For a brief moment, her eyes met his, before she released the cup and walked away.

  The water was cold, quenching his thirst. He hadn’t even known how thirsty he was. Casting a glance backwards, he saw that Nairna had not brought a drink to her brother, or anyone else. Why?

  He drained the cup, feeling his face warm. Shy and thickheaded when it came to girls, he preferred to remain unnoticed, fading into the background. He didn’t know how to talk to them, and, more often than not, he avoided them.

  But it wasn’t only girls who made him uncomfortable. He rarely spoke and hated being around larger groups. Though his father had chastised him for his reticence, ordering him to talk with guests and behave as a future chief, Bram never knew quite what to say.

  Fighting was easier. As long as he could wield a claymore or a dirk, no one cared about his inability to converse. And in the middle of a cattle raid, it was rare for anyone to be watching him. They were too busy saving their own necks.

  He made his way back to his discarded tunic, where he’d left it by the wall. He set down the cup and saw something round inside the folds. Wrapped in cloth, it was still warm. Bram glanced around him, but saw no one nearby. Inside lay a small loaf of bread.

  His stomach rumbled as he tore off a piece, devouring the food. Nothing had ever tasted so good, after he’d been training all morning.

  Nairna had left it for him; he was sure of it. As he finished eating the bread, he wondered if she’d had another purpose. If, perhaps, she cared for him in that mysterious way that women did.

  He couldn’t stop the incredulous lift of a smile, though he felt like a complete fool.

  Over the next sennight, their secret courtship continued. One day, he would find that a torn tunic had been mended, while another time, he would reach into the fold of his cloak and find a small handful of fresh blackberries.

  Since it wasn’t right to receive gifts without giving any in return, he began leaving Nairna pretty stones or dried flowers, outside her chamber door. Once, he’d traded for a crimson ribbon and she’d smiled the entire day she’d worn it twined in her brown hair.

  He couldn’t understand why she’d chosen him as the subject of her affections. But the longer he stayed with her clan, the more she fascinated him. She never bothered him, never tried to speak with him directly. But the quiet kindnesses she showed had somehow made it impossible to stop thinking about her.

  One afternoon, he found her huddled beneath a tree during a rainstorm. No one else was about, and from the basket she carried, it was clear she’d been collecting wild mushrooms.

  Bram dismounted from his horse and untied his cloak, holding it out to her. ‘Here. You look cold.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, it’s all right. The rain will stop soon.’

  He ignored her and walked closer, holding it out. Nairna took one end over her shoulder and held out the other. ‘Share it with me.’

  He didn’t want to. The idea of sitting beside a beautiful young woman made him uneasy. He’d likely embarrass himself by saying something foolish.

  But then Nairna raised her green eyes to his. ‘Please.’

  The softness in her voice reminded him of everything she’d done for him. Against his common sense, he sat beside her, leaning his back against the tree.

  Nairna held out the cloak, drawing the end over his shoulders. ‘Do you mind?’ she whispered, huddling close to his side for warmth. He put his arm around her, keeping her wrapped in the woollen cloak. The rain was cool upon his face, and the cloak kept the worst of the weather away from them.

  Had it been pouring down rain, he’d not have noticed. Every fibre of his attention was centred upon Nairna. Her head rested against his shoulder and she didn’t try to fill up the space with meaningless words. His heart hammered with nerves, but he reached for her hand.

  ‘My father came to speak to me this morning,’ Nairna murmured, her palm cool against his. Her voice sounded nervous, as though she were afraid to speak.

  Bram waited for her to continue, as he traced the contours of her palm.

  Nairna coloured, squeezing his hand as if to gather strength. ‘He said that…I am to be married.’

  Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

  A hollow darkness invaded his mood and he couldn’t stop the feelings of anger and unfairness. Though he’d only known her a few weeks, he felt protective of Nairna. You’re mine, he wanted to growl. He’d skewer any man who tried to touch her.

  ‘You’re not getting married,’ he said tightly. ‘You’re too young.’

  ‘I’m fifteen,’ she admitted. ‘But you don’t understand. They want an alliance between—’

  ‘No.’ He cut her off, not wanting to hear it. A possessive jealousy ate him up inside, firing up his temper. He removed the cloak, letting her hold on to it while he paced. He needed to think, to make decisions.

  But Nairna rose, walking close to him. She took his hands in hers, and her face reddened. ‘Bram, no. They want me to marry you.’

  Shock struck him speechless and, slowly, the blood drained away from his anger. He took a breath, then another, trying to wrap his mind around her words.

  ‘It’s why they brought you here. So that we could…get to know one another.’

  Married. To this girl, who would belong to him. The very thought made him dizzy, afraid that he wouldn’t please her. She didn’t truly know him. He wasn’t the sort of natural leader his younger brother Alex was, nor did he fight as well as his father wanted him to. He had too much to learn and, though he was sixteen, he’d felt the sting of mediocrity. If they married, he had no doubt at all that he’d disappoint her.

  Nairna looked down at their linked hands. ‘Say something. If you don’t want to wed me, then I’ll t
alk to my father.’

  He couldn’t find the right words. If he tried to speak right now, not a word would make sense. He reached out to her nape, sliding his hands into her hair.

  Refusing to wed her would be the right thing to do, but he couldn’t relinquish the rigid need to be with her.

  When dismay filled up her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her for the first time. He tasted the rain and her innocence, and when her mouth moved against his, a reckless desire raged through him.

  He wanted her to be his, though she deserved better. And when her arms folded around his waist, her face pressed against his chest, he vowed he would do everything he could to be the husband she wanted.

  Chapter Three

  Present day

  Bram spent the remainder of the night within the stable. He didn’t sleep, though he’d tried. His eyes burned with the aching need for rest, but slumber eluded him still. His conscience taunted him that he could never rest, not with Callum still a captive. And despite the fierce need, he couldn’t command himself to sleep.

  He still heard the screams in his memory, the unthinkable images branded into his mind. Darkness held nothing but horror for him, and he supposed it was little wonder that he couldn’t trust himself to close his eyes.

  Instead, he’d spent the hours thinking about his wife. The years had transformed her from a bright-eyed girl into a woman who took his breath away. Her kiss had melted away any ability to think clearly and it was a wonder he’d managed to leave her at all.

  Even now, his hands were shaking at the thought of touching her. He’d wanted nothing more than to lay her down upon the bed and claim her body with his.

  And though he had that right as her husband, she wasn’t ready to lie with him. Not when they were strangers to one another.

  His father’s advice on their wedding night drifted into his mind. You’ll know what to do, Tavin had said. Trust your instincts.