Juliette Miller - [Clan MacKenzie 02] Page 5

  It was foolish of me, aye, but I had to try. “Father—”

  My father lashed out at me, hitting the side of my face with the back of his hand, causing me to stumble backward. I caught myself and held my own hand to my cheekbone, which throbbed with the heat of the impact and my own humiliation. I had known to expect this; my father’s temper was nothing new. I should not have continued to defy him, yet I never seemed to learn. I did not have freedom of choice, yet I craved that one particular luxury, always, and enough to question his caustic authority.

  But his wrath now seemed to almost undo him. He was feeling the effects of his age and his illness. In the past, his hits had been much more forceful. His strength was failing him. He coughed violently and uncontrollably for a few moments, spitting the blood that rose from his lungs onto the stone floor, where it made a gruesome blotch.

  I knew my father was ill. But I had not known the extent of it. And, God help me, in that moment I was almost glad of it. I was glad that he could not hurt me as much as he once would have done. I could understand, too, why he was so fervent about securing a laird-in-waiting, to take his place when he could no longer lead. And the smallest glimmer of hope clung to the periphery of this realization. If I did marry Kade Mackenzie, and if my father became too ill to lead, Kade would step up to the position. Which meant that my husband would outrank my father.

  And so would I.

  “You will do your duty, Stella, and that is the end of it! Now go. Get out of my sight. I will call for you later.” To his first officer, he said, “Aleck, take whatever measures are necessary to ensure my daughter’s obedience in this matter, lest she dream up another futile attempt to flee or some other equally daft scheme.”

  “I am at your service, Laird Morrison,” came Aleck’s reply.

  With a sick feeling in my stomach, I followed Aleck from my father’s chambers out into the wide hallway. The door closed, and Aleck fell into step beside me; at his normal pace his stride might have been twice that of my own. As we walked, he surprised me by looping his burly arm around my waist. I attempted to remove myself from his grasp, but he was not to be dissuaded.

  “You heard your father’s orders as clearly as I did, Stella. I must take whatever measures necessary to ensure your obedience. Has your father mentioned to you that I asked for your hand before your marriage to Mackenzie was arranged? But you know that already, do you not? If you do refuse Mackenzie, I have every reason to believe the laird will favor my request. I am, after all, one of his most trusted officers.”

  I couldn’t help blanching at his words. I knew this to be untrue; it was unlikely my father would wed me to a man of Aleck’s bloodline. But I looked up at him, aghast. The thought of marrying Aleck was even more off-putting than that of marrying Kade Mackenzie. I could remember even now the hurt I inflicted when I had refused Aleck’s long-ago gift. His face had fallen and I later regretted the cruel childishness of my reply. Ever since, Aleck had gone out of his way, when our paths occasionally crossed, to ridicule me with threatening intention. Because of this, I thought him an ill-mannered lout who caused more than a ripple of unease every time he flicked me a glance. I knew well that his animosity toward me was laced with desire and revenge.

  And the disquieting thought could not be suppressed: if I attempted to mutiny from the Mackenzie marriage, a match to Aleck would likely be considered as an apt, severe punishment. At the age of fourteen, Aleck had been a shy, gangly boy. Now, he was a massive, seasoned warrior with thick black hair, irises so dark it was difficult to distinguish them from the inky hue of his pupils—a detail which only added to his somewhat sinister demeanor—and a face that could have, if I didn’t know the history of all the thoughts behind it, been called noticeable if not handsome. He was far too rough to be attractive, and far too coarse to be likable.

  “Perchance your father might allow one of your younger sisters to secure the Mackenzie alliance,” he said, pulling me closer. In fact, I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the way this was progressing; there was no one about and we were still some ways from the guest chambers I shared with my sisters. “You and I could get to know each other better, Stella, while we have the opportunity. You know I’ve always had my eye on you.”

  I struggled against his advances, pushing my hands against his barrel-like chest. “Aleck. Unhand me. I must return to my sisters.”

  But Aleck only smiled and pulled me closer. “Don’t defy your father again, lass. He’ll be most displeased by your continued disobedience when I was given strict instructions.”

  “To return me to my chambers. Nothing more.”

  His lips curled in a lewd grin. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Holding me in his hard grasp, he tilted his head slightly, leaning toward me as though he might kiss me. The scent of him, of fresh blood and salty musk, filled my senses and I feared I might wretch.

  Shocked and distressed, I slapped his face. He was stunned enough to loosen his grip, and I managed to disengage and run from him.

  I held my skirts as I bolted as fast as my gown would allow, turning once to see him running after me, his face thunderous with rage.

  And as I turned the corner, I ran right into the solid form of a very large man, who was so surprised by the sudden collision that he held me in a decisive embrace, to corral me or to steady me.

  It was none other than Kade Mackenzie.

  With my father’s declaration fresh in my mind, I couldn’t suppress a blush that rose to my face as Kade held me. His hands were clasped on my shoulders, and my body was pushed up against his. The contact caused him to utter a low, strangled gasp, as though this rugged, self-assured soldier was shaken by our sudden and unexpected closeness. The textures of him, I couldn’t help noticing as my breasts rose and fell from my exertions, were stunningly hard and unyielding. The scent and feel of him overwhelmed my senses. Sun and fresh air and earthy, spice-touched masculinity. “Stella.” His muttered exhale, laced with genuine surprise, was a statement of recognition more than a greeting. And it was too familiar, this address: a detail that hardly mattered now, if my father’s plans were a certainty. A fluttery memory was kicked up by his utterance. He knew my name. I will taste more of you, Stella. I have not had nearly enough. I want you as my own. But I suppressed the thought, which was very nearly painful with its sweetness. Of course Kade would now know my name, if the news that I was to become his wife had reached him, which was more than likely. He, no doubt, would have been given more say in the decision, to be sure, than I had.

  After a brief shocked moment, Kade set me on my feet and took a step back. And as Aleck appeared, scruffy and enraged, Kade studied the situation with some consternation. I could see that my reddened, tearstained cheek did not escape his notice, and the observation caused his eyes to darken.

  Only moments before, I had been lamenting Kade Mackenzie’s very existence, but now, as I gasped for breath, I felt overwhelmingly glad to see him.

  Still dressed in his training garb and fresh from the strenuous masculine activity of sparring, and winning, Kade looked rougher and more intimidating than ever. The dramatic vitality of him drew—nay, commanded—my attention, as it had before, and I felt uneasy about this power he seemed to hold over me, as though his very presence controlled not only the direction of my eyes, but also the entirety of my thoughts. His too-long hair was windblown and the sleeveless leather training vest he wore showed off the scarred and sculpted definition of his arms. Slung across his body with a mesh of straps, belts and holsters was his ever-present arsenal of weaponry, making him look all the more dramatic. I was thankful I had not been speared by something on impact.

  I had noticed an innate confidence in the Mackenzie men at the recent formal gatherings. But now, dressed in his training gear, with the sun and air still radiating from the dirt-dusted set of his shoulders, it was easy to see that this was the more natural, native state of Kade Mackenzie than the clean white shirt and smart attire. Here, clad in his leather trews,
combat vest, tall boots and enough swords and knives to equip a small army, he looked wholly at ease, as though he’d not only had all his greatest successes in this outfit but also regularly slept in it. The rugged vigor of him was practically a visible force. The knowledge that I would be forced to marry him—unless I could indeed either escape or somehow talk my father out of the arrangement (either scenario I knew to be highly unlikely)—fed a squirmy, fluttery sensation into the low pit of my stomach. My anxiety—and my fascination—was manifesting itself in unusual ways, it seemed.

  Kade, too, seemed oddly ruffled. His breathing was uneven, his mouth opened slightly from the force of his exhalations.

  But then I was reminded of Aleck, whose large palm reached for my bare arm. Before his touch was even upon me, Kade’s knife was drawn and held decisively between us. Aleck stopped all movement, and his stare in Kade’s direction promised death. But Kade did not appear at all intimidated. His own steady blue-tinted threat was as cold and volatile as I had ever seen it.

  “There’s no need to manhandle the lady,” Kade said, fully regaining whatever composure he had temporarily misplaced.

  “The lady is my charge and I’ll handle her however I see fit,” countered Aleck.

  “You are within the confines of the Kinloch walls, soldier, and you will follow our rules. Women are not harmed, nor treated with disrespect. Keep your hands to yourself.”

  Aleck eyed Kade, exhaling what might have been a chuckle of disbelief. Such a rule was not practiced, we both knew only too well, at Glenlochie.

  In the wake of their recent duel, conflict sparked in the air.

  “I fear I am lost,” I said to Kade, hoping to break their stalemate before violence broke out. “Could you be so kind as to show me the way to the guest chambers of my sisters? My guard here cannot remember the way.”

  “I remember the way,” Aleck growled. “Follow me now, lass, and I’ll lead you.”

  “Nay!” I said, perhaps too loudly. “I mean...what I mean to say is, we would be honored by your assistance. To make sure we know the way of it.”

  “We don’t need—” Aleck began, but Kade interrupted him.

  “I’ll escort you,” said Kade gruffly to my intense relief. I knew he could read my predicament; what I didn’t know was if he would care. Yet I supposed Kade’s irritation was somewhat warranted. After all, I was his betrothed, almost. He would surely be aware of the proceedings by now, and the proposed change to the marriage plans: his, to me. The sight of another brute manhandling me might have been enough to provoke any husband-to-be. I had little doubt Kade would be manhandling me himself, and as soon as he got the opportunity. But he appeared to be miffed by the thought of someone else encroaching on his potential territory. And at that moment, I was almost glad of his outrage.

  Aleck did not argue further. I wondered if it occurred to him that if and when my marriage to Kade Mackenzie took place, Kade would, in fact, become Aleck’s new laird-in-waiting. He would take the role as first officer and outrank Aleck. Aleck did not appear to be at all pleased by this possibility. His face twisted into a loaded grimace, and he followed along, resentment radiating in waves from the wide set of his shoulders. I could not help thinking this animosity did not bode well.

  Kade Mackenzie led us to my chambers, where Aleck took up his post outside the door.

  I murmured my thanks to Kade and hastily retreated into the safety of my sisters’ company, closing the door securely behind me. And as I was welcomed into my sisters’ questioning circle, a detail of my earlier heated exchange with my father lingered with me. I had taken only brief note of it at the time, but it echoed insistently now. I looked at Maisie’s grief-stricken face and thought of my pleas to let her be the one to wed Kade, if Wilkie had refused her.

  Her desperation has undermined her allure, my father had said.

  He wants you.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Two weeks later

  “HE’S ONLY MARRYING you because he’s duty-bound. ’Tis the unfortunate truth of it.”

  “We’ll be there for you all the while, Stella.”

  “Not all the while, but as much as we can.”

  “Whenever he leaves you we’ll come to you.”

  “As long as he allows it, of course.”

  “He might want you all to himself.”

  “He’ll likely allow us to visit with you during the day, at least.”

  “Aye. You’ll need comforting, after what you’ll be subjected to at night.”

  “Maisie! Don’t bring up that particular topic. She’s already pale as a ghost.”

  My sisters were gathered around me in the warm confines of our horse-drawn carriage, offering a litany of advice and condolences. A procession of carriages carried the privileged few who would attend my wedding. The cold autumn wind bit and blustered at the windows as we made our way across the Highlands to the Mackenzie keep, where I would wed Kade Mackenzie in less than two days. My arguments had fallen on my father’s selectively deaf ears.

  At night, I continued to dream of exile with a slim, young pauper, of forbidden kisses in a secret garden, of stalking, glittering shadows that lurked at the fringes, growing ever closer.

  The weather matched my mood: chilled and bleak.

  I could not have felt any more dread if I was being transported to my own execution, which at this moment sounded like an equally appealing option to that of an undesired marriage to the very figure that loomed ever larger, not only in my dreams but in my nightmares. If I could have jumped from the carriage and fled across the Highlands, I might have attempted to do so, but I knew Aleck was stationed alongside the carriage driver, and for that very reason.

  It was Maisie who brought up the subject—yet again—and I could hardly blame her for being more than a little incensed on the entire topic of marriage. Especially to a Mackenzie. After all, this wedding should have been hers, if Wilkie hadn’t chosen Roses, his exotic-looking kitchen servant to wed, only to later find out that she was the daughter of King William himself. Such was his devotion, he hadn’t cared that she was of lowly status; even before he had learned of her royal bloodline he’d been willing to forsake his own lairdship to have her. Now he would be laird of an altogether different clan, that of King’s Stuart clan, presiding over the grand Ossian Lochs.

  It was a romantic notion indeed that a man would dedicate his heart so completely to a woman. And Wilkie’s bride’s newly discovered lineage presented them with an unlikely and entirely favorable future, even beyond their love.

  My own future would be less favorable. My own husband-to-be, I was sure, would be dedicated only to ensuring that my life would be an exercise of intimidation and subservience. On the strength of his reputation as a ruthless aggressor on the battlefield and from the brutality he had demonstrated in the sparring ring, it seemed to be his nature, as estimated by my sisters, and I could hardly disagree. Less discussed but still hinted at was Kade Mackenzie’s dominating and lusty escapades behind more intimate closed doors, a topic that had been mostly skirted so far. But it was only a matter of time. My sisters were putting real effort into trying to be sensitive to my impending doom, I knew, but it simply wasn’t in their nature to hold back.

  Maisie commented further, bemused, “’Tis inconceivable how two brothers can be so entirely different in nature, is it not? Wilkie’s so quick to laugh, so vibrant. Kade, on the other hand, seems unpredictable, to say the least. He was civil enough at the gathering, but did you see him fight? He lives, I would guess from that performance, only to fight, and to win, at whatever cost.”

  I hoped Maisie was wrong, of course, but two weeks of discussion on this very topic had left me feeling hopeless and certain that my new husband would be as ruthless and impulsive as he seemed. Ann, as always, remained optimistic. My gentlest of sisters, the one whom I could always count on to at least try to find brightness in any dark situation, argued in my favor: “You hardly know, Maisie—” Then, in response to Maisie’s glower: �
�I’m sorry but it’s true. You spent a fleeting moment with Wilkie, two days at the very most, regardless of how intimate you might have been with him. And you don’t know Kade Mackenzie from the King of Spain. You’ve seen him in passing and spoken to him only a handful of words. You’re upsetting Stella with half-truths.”

  “’Tis just a feeling,” Maisie countered, sulky at the accuracy of Ann’s reprimand. “A very strong feeling.” The announcement of my betrothal to Kade Mackenzie had been a crushing loss for Maisie and one she still had not fully recovered from. She was only now, two weeks after the fiasco, coming out of her despondency. My wedding, however, would present an opportunity for her to seek out new conquests. Scouting for potential husbands was an agenda shared by the rest of my family as well, aside from Bonnie and Clementine, and my sisters were bright-eyed even as they attempted to calm my unease. But their words only stoked my apprehension.

  “Either way,” commented Clementine, “there can be little doubt about his...energy. We all witnessed it in the sparring ring. He’s unlikely to be gentle with you, Stella—and we say this, of course, with only your best interests at heart. You must be forewarned. Kade Mackenzie is marrying you to claim our clan’s lairdship, and not for reasons of affection. You must go into this marriage with your eyes open to the grim reality of the situation.”

  This was hardly news, yet they continued. And it was not the first time I wished they might change the subject, that we might be able to discuss the weather, a favorite song, a new fashion—anything but my troubling future. I knew they were trying to comfort me as best they could, under the circumstances. They were merely excitable at the drama of my predicament and entirely preoccupied with discussing it relentlessly. I wished I could daydream of faraway places. Of Edinburgh, and beyond. But it was not to be.

  “I’m sorry to say it, dear sister,” said Maisie, “but you have no choice but to expect the worst. He appears charming enough, but it’s clear enough he has a wicked temper. You saw him in the heat of battle. I dread to think what he’ll bring to the marriage bed.”