Eleven

 

“Good morning.”

Shannon opened her eyes and blinked. She turned her head toward the window that had never been covered last night to see the horizon turning gold. Torin reached toward her and placed his hand in her hair.

“I adore yer hair. It is more radiant than any crown.”

Shannon groaned. She sat up and reached for her hair, wincing when she pulled it over her shoulder. It was a true mess from her having slept with it unbound.

“Do nae worry. Baeth will have someone set it right. I wish I had the time to do it myself, but the day holds work that needs doing.”

Shannon jerked her head about to look at Torin. The man was already dressed, just pulling his plaid over his shoulder.

“I dinna want people waiting upon me because I shared yer bed. That would make me a whore.”

His face darkened. He drew in a hard breath before caging her with his arms set into the bed on either side of her.

“A man does nae cuddle with a whore. He fucks her up against a wall or over a tabletop and tosses his coin on her the second his cock is spent.”

She gasped. “Ye needn’t be so crude.”

“And ye need to stop rejecting what fate has given us. Do ye think such passion is common?”

“Lust is common and a deadly sin.”

Torin pulled her from the bed, allowing her feet to touch the ground. He looped one arm around her body, holding her against him. The scent of his skin filled her, and her heart accelerated in response.

“Lust is common, but it does nae cause yer heart to race.” He placed his hand over her chest, his fingers seeking out proof to support his words. She watched his expression transform when he gained what he wanted. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curved up. It made her throat tighten and tears threaten to fall down her cheeks. No one had ever looked at her tenderly. He suddenly took her hand and flattened it over his own chest. Beneath his doublet and shirt, she still felt the palpitations of his heart, and there was no missing the fact that it was faster than normal.

“Ye see, Shannon? That is nae something that comes along often. I wanted ye in my bed last night for more than the coupling.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against the delicate skin of her inner wrist. A moment later he was moving toward the door. He paused before opening it, looking back to stare at her.

“I want ye back tonight, Shannon, and I hope ye’ll think the matter through, because I swear that ye are a fool if you keep tossing happiness aside. The Douglas will arrive soon enough with a battle that we’ll both have to pray we win.” His expression returned to being harsh. “’Tis a battle I swear I will nae lose, and ye will nae tell me that ye do nae want my protection.”

He closed the door behind him to keep her from replying.

That was a kindness, because her knees quivered. She sat down on the bed surprised by the fear that suddenly rose up to attack her.

Why did it matter now?

The reason was not hard to discover. It was right there in her chest, just as Torin had noticed. Her heart was full of new feelings; ones that she had never suspected might be so powerful. She wanted to live, but not just for herself. There were suddenly so many things that she needed to do before life left her.

Like having a child.

Her hands covered her belly, wondering if there was a tiny flicker of life inside.

It suddenly sickened her to think that she might have snuffed out that life before she was even aware of it. Such a selfish thing, to deny life to anyone just because the road might be rough. She would love her babe.

“Well, ye are a picture this morning.”

Baeth opened the door without knocking. Shannon let out a startled sound and grabbed at the bedding to pull it over her bare body.

“Come now, lass. Ye have nothing that I do nae have myself.”

Two more maids followed the head of the house. One of them bore a fresh undergown that Shannon was grateful to raise her hands for.

“Well, yer hair does have life of its own.”

Baeth pointed at the mess her hair was, and one of the maids began working the comb through it. Before it was restored to order, both girls were needed to work the tangles from it.

But Baeth did not give her an overgown. Instead the woman pulled a measuring ribbon from her apron.

“Ye need some clothing that fits. I’ve never seen a more shameful trunk with a bride-to-be. Yer father is deplorable. A true miser.”

“He taught me to be strong by having me make do just as others do.”

Baeth began taking her measurements and writing them on a small piece of parchment. She placed an inkwell on the table, carefully pulling the stopper from it so that no ink might drip and ruin anything. She dipped a quill into the well to make her notations.

“I suppose that is a good thing, but sending ye out in shoes instead of boots was neglectful at best. Ye will be off to see the cobbler as soon as I am finished with ye.”

“I do nae need boots. It is spring, and the weather fine.”

Baeth snapped her fingers, her face becoming an expression of authority.

“This is the Highlands, lass. It rains more here than where ye grew up. Ye need boots, and ye shall be measured for them, or I’ll have Brockton take ye to the cobbler.”

Shannon pushed her lower lip out. “I do nae want a guard. It is insulting. Yer son must have plenty of other things more worthy of his attention. I detest wasting his time as much as I hate being distrusted.”

“Well now, if there is trust between ye and the laird, I agree.” Baeth wrote down the last measurement and put the stopper back into the inkwell. “But that is something ye shall have to discuss with the laird. He set Brockton to watching ye, and only the laird can undo that. But I would think yer own stepmother is looked after by McBoyd men.”

“Well, that is expected. She is married to a laird and must be protected, else someone might steal her away and demand a ransom.”

Baeth watched her with a serious look that Shannon shook her head in the face of.

“Torin has nae offered to wed…” Her words trailed off, because Torin had suggested that they marry. The gown hanging from the window was his way of proclaiming to all that he considered himself bound to her.

Baeth held up her McBoyd arisaid. “Ye might begin by having done with wearing this, lass, if ye have not come to terms with anything else concerning yer future.”

Shannon felt the girls freeze behind her, and tension filled the room. She stared at her father’s colors, the scarlet and blue that she had worn since the day she could walk. They looked so foreign to her now.

“I have, Baeth, but do nae burn it. They are my father’s colors. That is unchangeable. I’d be a poor daughter to burn my sire’s plaid.”

But she would not wear them any longer. Her future lay in a different direction.

“Just leave it here. I’ll see McBoyd colors only at night from now on.”

“In this chamber?”

Baeth’s voice was low but solid, seeking an admission that Shannon realized she was skirting.

Torin was not hiding their relationship, and it would no doubt gain him the anger of many of his own people. She was being very selfish not to do the same. His parting words rose from her memory, and she realized that he was very correct. The time they had together was short, for the Douglas would not forget her.

“Yes, Baeth, in this chamber.”

Baeth nodded approval. “I’m going to have the girls make up a new undergown for ye out of the fabric the laird bought for ye.”

“What fabric?”

One of the girls brought forward a bundle of soft linen, and Shannon instantly recognized it from the festival. She reached out to finger it, feeling tears sting her eyes. Torin did treat her better than a whore, and she was a fool to keep sniping at him. She drew in a deep breath, wondering why her pride was so swollen. There was much to be happy about. Sometimes being content was only a matter of looking at the good instead of the woes. Perfection was only found in heaven.

Or in the embrace of a man whom she loved.

“Aye, such a grand gift does make one misty-eyed.” Baeth blew across the ink to help it dry faster. “Ye are wise to notice that the laird has affection for ye.”

“I do nae feel wise.”

But she did feel the tenderness, and it shocked her to think that she had lived life until now without knowing love. Stroking the fabric once more, she felt a lump lodge in her throat. It was a surprise to discover that a man might be so caring, even when he was being so stubborn when it came to setting his man to watch her. Like a velvet-covered iron gauntlet. Her feelings were a tangled mess that defied her understanding.

She felt very unwise indeed.

***

The moment her foot touched the lower floor, Shannon felt eyes upon her. It was different than the night she had arrived. Now curious looks were aimed her way, and even several approving ones. Most of the tables were still in use, the younger boys all watching her while they sat in front of bowls of hot cereal.

Brockton inclined his head when her gaze touched on him. He fell into step behind her when she made her way toward the hearth. A bowl was handed to her with a smile this morning.

Shannon resisted the urge to be annoyed. Allowing her temper to rise would be to say she preferred to be hated. Her belly rumbled, so she sat down to eat. A moment later another girl sat down next to her.

“I am Isa. My mother told me to sit with ye because no one should have to eat alone.” The girl had a dusting of freckles across both cheeks, and her eyes danced with merriment. “But truthfully I am dying to know if the rumor is true, and to my mother’s shame and my father’s delight, I’m bold enough to ask ye straight.”

“If what rumor is true?”

Isa smiled and leaned close. “Did it take four men to bring ye down?” The girl’s eyes had gone wide with her question, and she looked as though she was holding her breath while waiting on the answer. “Tera told me so. She’s sister to Devyn, who was one of the four the laird sent after ye. He claimed it was four, but I still have to hear it from yer own lips.”

The girl chattered faster than a spring river ran, but there was something irresistible in being included in conversations again, especially ones that were about nothing important but made you feel like you were at home.

Shannon suddenly smiled, because no matter what colors they wore, Scots liked their legends. Apparently she had become a bit of one herself.

“Well… I did have a horse… and the night to shield me…”

***

“The laird has guests arriving. The Cameron and the Lindsey.”

Baeth began issuing orders for the cook and maids, but her eyes kept straying to Shannon. It was clear that the other Highlanders were arriving to discuss the murder of the king and what her fate would be.

“Laird Lindsey asked that ye bring him up a pitcher of water.” Baeth paused with a frown on her lips. “But ’tis the first time I’ve ever heard that man asking for water.”

Shannon felt her cheeks turn hot, and it was most definitely due to her temper. Connor Lindsey might just get his pitcher of water poured over his arrogant head. She followed Baeth through the hall and toward the smaller tower. This one was the oldest, and the construction was very basic. Sound echoed more because there were no tapestries hung on the walls to absorb it. Built in a round fashion, the stones were light gray, with mortar holding them together. On the main floor sat large tables pulled together to form a triangle. Torin sat at one with his captains, and Connor Lindsey was at another. The third man in the room wore a plaid that was yellow, orange, and black. He had dark hair, and even sitting down, she couldn’t miss the fact that he was a large man. Secretaries were sitting behind their lairds, a slight scratching coming from their quills. Shannon felt the muscles across her back tighten. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

She followed Baeth toward the cupboard. It was nothing more than a long table behind the main tables. It was where the young boys stood with their masters’ cups, each lad assigned the task of ensuring that no one had the chance to slip poison into the vessel that he was guarding. When one of the men at the main tables lifted his hand, the boy tending to him would move forward with his cup, but the lad would return the cup to the cupboard, because there were parchments on the tables and paper was very expensive.

More than one man turned to look at her. Shannon refused to tuck her chin, and that gained her more than one approving grin. Baeth snapped her fingers, and the sound drew Shannon toward the doorway along with the other women, but she hesitated in the hallway, wanting to remain and hear what was being said. Whatever those lairds and captains decided, it would affect her more than anyone. But her gender set her apart from them.

It also protected her.

She shivered, suddenly realizing that if she were a son, she would no doubt be dead now.

“Come along, lass. There is nothing to gain by standing here worrying.”

“Ye’re right.”

But that did not make it any easier to pick up her feet.

***

It rained in the afternoon. There was much to be done, and a crack of thunder across the sky surprised all of them. Shannon raced around the tower with the rest of the McLeren women to rescue the drying laundry pinned to ropes that ran up the stone face of the tower. The storm did not come in gently but shook the ground with thunder that echoed between the hills. Lightning split open the dark clouds, and rain pelted them while they tried to pull in the laundry. Shannon filled a basket and ran for the doorway, her own clothing plastered against her skin. Her shoes slipped on the stone floor once she was inside. Her basket flew into the air as she tumbled toward the floor.

But she never hit it. A pair of strong arms caught her, pulling her away from what promised to be a painful landing.

“And Baeth says ye argued about going to see the cobbler.”

Torin didn’t put her down but held her as though she weighed nothing. He frowned at her. “I told ye that shoes are foolish in the Highlands, lass.”

“I went to the cobbler.”

One dark eyebrow rose, but his lips also curved with arrogant satisfaction. Shannon pressed a hand against his chest.

“Go gloat somewhere else.”

He allowed her feet to drop but held onto one wrist. His eyes flickered with something else now, and she stared at it, mesmerized by the heat.

“But I came in to steal a few moments with ye, sweet Shannon. And why can I nae be pleased that ye will be comfortable in my tower? Those shoes are meant for summer.”

His fingers clasped her hand, and he pulled her along behind him, away from the bustle of the women crowding into the kitchens with their loads. Their chatter faded as Torin tugged her farther into the maze of hallways. He finally stopped and looked both ways before ducking behind a large weapons stand. There were only a few feet of space behind the huge wooden stand used for long bows and spears.

Torin pressed her up against the stone wall.

“Ahh, just what a stormy afternoon was truly made for. Trysting in dark corners.” He leaned down and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth. There was water on her cheeks, but that didn’t stop him from claiming her lips and pressing them open for his tongue. Passion began to burn inside her, her passage clamoring for attention.

“Torin…”

He didn’t give heed to her tone but reached for the sides of her gowns.

“Someone will come upon us.”

He pulled her garment up, baring her ankles and knees. “I shouldn’t have told ye about fucking up against walls. I haven’t been able to get the idea out of me head since the words crossed my lips.”

She slapped at him, but he grinned at her and pulled her gowns higher. He slipped his hands beneath the fabric and onto the backs of her thighs. A shiver shook her, delight racing down her legs as he gently smoothed his warm hands over her.

“Do ye like this, Shannon? My stroking yer thighs?”

He was whispering against her neck, intensifying the pleasure his touch produced with his words.

“Ye… ye shouldn’t talk about it…” Her voice shook, but a soft moan escaped her lips as those warm hands continued to slide and massage her thighs. He bent his knees so that he might cover the area between her knees and bottom.

“Haven’t ye ever enjoyed hearing a story told to ye?”

“This is nae a story.”

His hands slipped between her legs to stroke her inner thighs. Sensation rushed through her, igniting a need that was very receptive to his moods.

“Why can it nae be a story? Just because it is about trysting and passion?” He laughed low and deep. “Well, I’ve heard more than one tale of that.”

“Is that so?”

He laughed again, this time soothing her with another kiss. It wasn’t as hard as the first, which made it intoxicating. She moved her lips beneath his, kissing him back because she just didn’t want to ignore the moment. It was wicked to be sure, but it was also exhilarating to know he’d come looking for her when there were no doubt plenty of his own clan who would ease his lust.

Torin wanted her.

She flattened her hands against his neck and smoothed them up to where his hair began, mimicking the motions of his hands. A soft groan came from his lips, so slight, she felt the vibration more than heard it. She was suddenly eager for each stolen touch, savoring the forbidden moment. Baeth’s words echoed in her memory. She reached down, moving his kilt aside. His cock was hard and swollen, and he didn’t waste any time. He lifted her up, her knees parting so that he might step between them. He did press her back against the wall, using his strength to keep her there. The head of his cock nudged her folds, testing how receptive she was. His breath hit her neck, and she wrapped her arms around his.

She felt too hot, longing for privacy that would allow them to shed their clothing. But the hard press of his cock against her passage was too delightful to postpone enjoying. Her body longed to be possessed right then, and she allowed more of her weight to press down onto that hard flesh.

A soft grunt teased her ear, and Torin surged upward, his hard length filling her completely. She whimpered, unable to contain all the pleasure flooding her.

“I see I am not the only one thinking of the other.” Torin meant to tease her, but his voice was harsh with need. His hips thrust back and forth, pushing her closer to the point where she would not be able to hold in her pleasure.

It was deep pleasure too. Hot and shearing, urging her to move faster because she could not bear to wait. She craved him, craved the pleasure that would soon be hers.

“More.”

Her voice was a mere whisper, but Torin heard her. He bit her neck, a sharp yet intensely pleasurable sting that raced down her body to join the boiling need threatening to have her whimpering loudly enough for anyone to hear.

Torin pressed a hard kiss against her lips, sealing both their cries inside her mouth. Every muscle strained, pulling taut while rapture broke deep inside her belly. The sides of her passage clasped his length tighter to pull his seed from him. She didn’t have to wait very long. Torin strained toward her, lodging his cock deep inside her while his seed flooded her.

Shannon lost track of time. Her fingers toyed with Torin’s hair, and she wondered why she had never played with it before. He remained deep inside her, his chest rising and falling rapidly against her own. They were both wet, but neither of them was chilled.

“Sweet Shannon, I’m becoming yer slave.”

His words pleased her too much. Dread wrapped around her heart as the future stretched out with its shadows of plots that neither of them might prevent.

Yet at the same time they were completely hidden away, with no one and nothing to interrupt them. Torin allowed her legs to come down, and her gowns fell to cover her once more, but he wrapped his arms around her, turning her away from him before pulling her tighter against him and binding her firmly to him. The thunder rumbled, echoing along the hallways, but Shannon discovered herself listening to Torin’s heart more.

“Ye should be wearing an arisaid, but there is a part of me that enjoys seeing that ye have set yer old one aside.” She realized why he was in back of her now; the man was hiding his expression from her. But trying to move proved impossible. Torin sighed and nuzzled her neck.

“It would please me greatly to see ye in my colors, Shannon.”

It was an admission, one that she doubted many lairds would make. He was setting aside his pride for her, and she did not miss that fact. It would be simple for him to force his will on her, and once again she noticed that he didn’t do so. He asked, which was a greater freedom than she had ever known.

“I thank ye for asking.”

“So ye’ll think on it?”

There was eagerness in his voice. Part of her wanted to say yes so badly, she struggled to keep it contained.

“And what of the widows that my father recently made among yer people? I do nae think they will be very pleased to see me in McLeren wool.”

His hand moved on her shoulder, stroking it slowly. “Let me worry about that, Shannon. Ye would nae be the first daughter wed to the laird whom her father had been warring with. It is not an unknown way of settling things.”

“Except that my father has pledged ye no peace. Ye would get nothing. Which means ye are pitying me once more.”

She shook her head and pushed free of his embrace. Her pride noticed that he allowed her to turn and face him, but there was nothing she might do about how much stronger he was than she.

She enjoyed that strength far too much to complain about it.

“I shall not cling to ye, Torin McLeren, simply because ye are my lover. I am nae a coward.”

“I know that.” He delivered each word in a solid tone. “But ye are also a woman.”

Shannon drew herself up stiffly. “That makes no difference to my way of thinking. I’ll face what comes my way.”

“Not alone, ye won’t, and there is no point in trying to debate the matter with me. It is that spirit that has me trying to hold you next to me, lass. Besides, I stole ye, and a Highlander keeps what he brings home.”

Shannon pressed her lips into a hard line.

“Ye’re being stubborn, Torin McLeren.”

“No more so than ye are, Shannon McBoyd, so that makes us a good match.”

She snorted at him. “Enough, I’m going to bathe, since I’m half soaked.”

She turned and began walking out from behind the weapons rack but jumped when a hard smack landed on her bottom.

“Torin McLeren!”

He caught her and kissed her in spite of her squirming. She finally gained her freedom and made it into the hallway, but his arrogant laughter followed her. Her bottom stung just a tiny amount from that smack. And part of her liked it. She smothered a word that she shouldn’t know.

“Barbarian.”

But one she enjoyed, so who was more uncivilized?

***

“Ye shall eat at the high table tonight.”

Shannon turned to glare at Baeth. She didn’t care if it was the hardest look she’d ever sent toward the head of house or if it was disrespectful. Baeth did naught but lift one hand and point a single finger toward her.

“Ye will mind me, girl, because the laird is the one who told me to sit ye there, and the only way ye will be telling me what to do is if ye wed him and become mistress of this tower. For now, I am set above ye.”

Shannon gasped. “Not you too.”

“Not me, what?” Baeth shook her head. “Once again ye did nae know what to stop struggling against. I see the way the pair of ye look at each other. That is a rare gift, lass, too hard to come by to cast it aside. To be wed to a man ye love, now that is a precious gift indeed.”

Was it true? Shannon turned to see Torin watching her. He was sitting at his high table with plenty of his own women trying to catch his eye, but he only looked at her. Her cheeks heated, and she began walking toward him without thinking. She had been thinking far too much. Her entire life, it seemed, had been nothing but thoughts and ponderings.

She was sick unto death of it. She wanted to touch and be touched in return. Torin’s face transformed as she moved, becoming practically radiant. Approval shone in his eyes, and his lips curved into a smile that was full of joy. She felt that same joy filling her heart.

He stood up and offered her his hand. The hall quieted, heads turning in their direction. But it was the approving nods that made her quiver. She sat down and squirmed because so many still looked at her.

“This is Quinton Cameron, and ye have met Connor Lindsey.”

Shannon offered the two men a respectful nod before sitting down. Connor offered her a silent kiss that earned him a glare that Quinton Cameron didn’t miss.

“I believe I’ve come late to the gathering and missed something enjoyable.”

“It was nae enjoyable.” Shannon kept her tone sweet, and it gained her a smirk from Connor.

“I recall the moment differently.”

Torin sent his fellow laird a hard look. Connor laughed, his amusement turning several heads toward them.

Cameron made a low sound. “Now I am truly envious.” He turned toward Shannon and captured her hand before she realized that he intended to touch her. His hand was large, completely covering her own.

“Tell me ye did nae make a choice between these two pitiful excuses. I assure ye, I am a much better specimen for your consideration.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss against the back of it.

“I assure ye, Laird Cameron, I was never in any doubt as to my feelings.”

“I’m wounded,” Connor announced.

Torin chuckled. “So I heard.”

Connor didn’t take offense; instead the man laughed, and Cameron pushed his lower lip out. “This is what becomes of spending too much time at court: I miss all the fun.”

The meal continued, and Shannon found herself enjoying the banter of the men. They teased one another and laughed with honest emotion. But she was keenly aware of Torin beside her, her attention settling on his hands as he reached for his goblet. The skin on the backs of her thighs recalled exactly what those hands felt like against them. The sensation spread upward, until her breasts were warm and felt swollen behind her robe. Torin cut his gaze toward her, and her hands froze. In those dark orbs was a hunger that sent her thoughts away from the meal completely.

He pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Come, Shannon.”

He offered her his hand, and she heard the hall grow silent once more. She didn’t care. All that mattered was the invitation so close at hand. She placed her hand in his and felt someone pull her chair back when she stood up. Torin pulled her gently toward the stairs, and she felt his hand quiver.

Just a tiny amount, but it was dear. It proved that they were both drawn to one another and that Baeth was correct. It was too rare to struggle against. So she would not. She followed her lover to his chamber, unconcerned with the number of people who watched. What mattered was the privacy beckoning to her, that wonderful place where they might be only themselves.

***

Torin was awake before dawn. Shannon lay against his side. He could smell her, the soft scent of her skin. He smiled as his fingers encountered the length of her hair, loose and curling against the sheets. He had never shared his bed with a woman, not this bed that belonged to the laird.

Shannon belonged in it. He’d heard other men talk of enjoying having a woman sleep next to them, but he had never believed it could feel so good. His fingers toyed with one curl while he listened to the sound of her breathing.

He would find a way to keep her. There had to be a solution, and he was not interested in hearing otherwise.

That single thought burned in his gut. It also churned up the dread that he’d been avoiding. There was no mistaking that time was running out. James II would have been crowned by now, leaving the way clear for the Earl of Douglas to cut down those who had stood with Atholl. There was no doubt in his mind that blood would be flowing soon. McBoyd blood. He looked over at the long table across his chamber. Shannon’s arisaid sat there, neatly folded, a glaring reminder that she was the daughter of a known traitor.

There had to be a way. He just didn’t know what exactly it was yet.

He eased out of his bed, tucking the covers around Shannon. He listened to the morning and heard the faint sounds of hooves on the bridge. It was slight because the gate was still down, so the horses would be standing still. He dressed quickly before he took his sword up from where it was still leaning against the wall near the bed and left the chamber.

He met Brockton halfway down the stairs.

“Messengers at the gate, Laird.”

Torin nodded. “I’ve been expecting them.”

Torin walked into the yard without a care for the limited light; his attention was on the messengers and the orders they would no doubt be giving him.

Brockton lifted one arm and waved toward the men waiting, poised above the heavy iron gate that kept Donan Tower secure by night. There was a groan as the men above the gate began to wind up the chains that moved it.

“Company so early?”

Connor Lindsey appeared, with his men following closely.

“Aye, messengers from Edinburgh.”

Torin watched the men ride through the rising gate. They wore Douglas plaids and looked around the yard before entering it completely.

The man leading the messengers reached up and tugged on his bonnet when he met Torin’s gaze. The man dismounted and crossed the space between them. “Archibald Douglas has been made lieutenant general.”

Torin stiffened. “I expected as much.”

“Aye.” Connor added his voice to the moment.

“He’s marched on the McBoyd.”

Torin felt his teeth grind.

“Get to it, man. I’m no’ a woman who needs gentling.”

The messenger offered Connor a quick tug on his knit bonnet before reaching beneath his jerkin to remove a letter.

“The Douglas orders ye to McBoyd land.” The messenger aimed a hard expression toward him. “Laird Lindsey is to ride with ye.”

“Then we go.”

Torin didn’t waste any time. He covered the distance to his stable with long strides fueled by his need to see the last obstacle between him and Shannon removed. He returned to the yard a few moments later, while his men hurried to join him. It wouldn’t take long; they were Highlanders well used to taking to the road whenever they needed to.

“Ye’re not bringing the girl?” The messenger looked toward the steps that led into the tower.

“Nay. Whatever Douglas wants, he can have it from me. Highlanders do nae make war with women.”

The Douglas messenger raised one eyebrow, but Torin shot him a deadly look.

“Shannon McBoyd is mine. I stole her, and a Highlander keeps what he steals.”

Connor’s horse rode up next to him, and his friend added a colorful word to the moment. “We want justice from men, no’ women. I’d think the Douglas would understand that. Unless ye have been at court too long and listening to too many English.”

Something flickered in the messenger’s eyes, a brief glimpse of the uncivilized man inside him. “There are too many English at court.”

Torin wrapped the reins around his fist and felt his stallion paw the ground with eagerness. “Then we go, and after justice has been satisfied, I will tell the new lieutenant general that I will nae give up Shannon McBoyd, no’ even if he demands my life.”

The messengers all grunted, but they were eager to be free of a stronghold that was not their clan’s. They rode for the gate quickly, while Torin gave his retainers a few more seconds to kiss their wives and sweethearts.

“Are ye sure about that, Torin?” It was Connor who spoke, his voice low and his horse close.

Torin turned a hard look toward his friend. “Ye were the one that mentioned it was time for us both to consider what we might leave behind us. Shannon will make a fine wife, and wedding her will do something that the Douglas’s marching on the McBoyd will nae achieve, and that’s bring a sense of justice to my kin.”

“Aye, I see what ye’re thinking. If ye marry Shannon, there will be peace next season.”

“It is no’ all I am thinking.”

Torin watched his friend consider him from narrowed eyes. Torin didn’t care. He couldn’t think of anything else save keeping Shannon in his life. Maybe his uncle had been correct about his inheriting his mother’s common blood, because he wanted love along with his heirs. He wanted the tranquility that had been filling his chamber since Shannon had been sleeping in his bed. Even so short a time had branded the feelings into his heart.

“I will nae consider any other action.” He kept his voice low and between Connor and himself. “I believe I love her, Connor.”

His friend drew in a stiff breath. “Then I will ride at yer side and help ye keep her.”