The Niece of His Highland Enemy by Alisa Adams
Chapter 2
Gordon MacDonell set a grueling pace. He had to intercept her. Godet Ross betrothed to himself? His parents had never mentioned it! Though he knew they were very close to the Ross’ and they had always met up with them at the summer games. But a betrothal?
He could not have Godet Ross showing up at Conall Castle claiming to be his betrothed. He was already betrothed! Brigda was at his castle right now, planning their wedding. With Brigda’s temper, who knew what would happen? She was a fiery lass and had led him quite the chase, but she had just recently agreed to be his wife.
His brother Tristan rode beside him. That grin had not left his face since the moment the message had arrived and they had ridden out of the castle. He was vastly amused by this turn of events. Gordon knew that Tristan did not like Brigda, not one bit.
Neither did his other men that were traveling with them. All his men knew that Castle Conall was for training soldiers. It was no place for women, in fact, women were not welcome. Brigda had proven to be… difficult. Gordon was surly and his temper was rising with each bit of ground they covered.
He spotted them after noon and breathed a sigh of relief. He was in time to stop Godet and turn her back. He urged his horse on faster with his brother right behind him. He galloped full speed up to the small traveling group and spun his horse to a stop in front of them.
The girl in the front on the huge Clydesdale stopped her horse and turned him sideways, blocking the others. She pulled out a small dirk and was staring at him fiercely, the knife pointed directly at him. “Dinnae ye move a step closer to me or my sisters, I’m giving ye fair warning!” she called out to him. Her voice was clear and lilting.
Gordon studied the vision before him, trying to control his shock. He remembered the big Clydesdale horses the Ross clan was known for breeding. This was definitely Godet. How could he have forgotten those long, silky, black curls of hers? Her hair fell to a tiny waist that curved out to the gentle swell of her hips. But it was her eyes that brought back the memories with their strange but eerily beautiful silver-blue color. She had the longest dark lashes he had ever seen which were sweeping over those bewitching eyes. Those eyes had always mesmerized him, even as a young boy.
She wore the Ross plaid in her skirts that billowed out over her horses back. The lace that was at her wrists and was also peering out of the tight bodice she wore made her look impossibly more feminine as she sat on the giant of a horse. She looked at him bravely, not showing even a hint of fear in that upraised chin of hers. Yet, he noted the slight tremble of her slender, delicate hand on the reins of her horse. Gordon frowned. She was impossibly lovely. The young girl he remembered with the strange eyes had a grown into a stunningly beautiful woman. And she was a problem he didn’t need nor want. She was possibly even more beautiful than the buxom, red-haired Brigda waiting to marry him back at Castle Conall.
“Put that silly dirk away, lass. ‘Tis I, Gordon MacDonell, and I mean ye no harm,” he greeted a little irritably.
Godet frowned back at the man who was staring at her so brutishly and who was clearly annoyed. “Ye are Gordon?” Her eyes quickly traveled over his form. This was no skinny young boy. This was a man—a very large, very muscular man. Dark, wavy hair curled down from his head to touch the collar of his billowy white linen shirt. He had on a kilt in the dark blue and green of the MacDonell clan. The dark blue and green made his emerald eyes shine brilliantly as he stared so brazenly at her. His chin was square and firm, his nose was straight, and his lips were full, though they were now thinned in irritation. He clearly was not happy to see her.
Godet’s eyes traveled further down in her study of the man before her. She could not miss the big, muscular thighs and tall, black boots gripping the large black stallion he controlled so effortlessly. No man in her clan could carry off the wearing of the kilt like the warriors of old, but this man did. She swallowed and turned her eyes away, knowing she was blushing hotly. Gordon MacDonell had certainly grown up well.
She put her dirk back into her belt and continued her study of Gordon and the men who were beside him. All were on big, black horses—almost as big as the horses she and her sisters rode. Her horses were giants, she knew no other horses could match their size or strength, but these big men rode horses fit for their size. They were big, muscular, powerful and intimidating. She met Gordon’s brutish stare. Keeping her chin up, Godet refused to break the contact that his eyes held on hers.
She wasn’t aware that her sisters had come forward and were flanking her. All were staring at the men in front of them, except Ceena who was studying the black horses, of course, not the men on them.
Aunt Hextilda pushed her way in between the large draft horses and peered up at Gordon MacDonell. “Weel noo, if ye dinnae grow up to be quite the man!” Aunt Hextilda said appreciatively.
“Aunt Hextilda? Is that ye?” Gordon exclaimed as he looked down on the incongruously little woman riding the pony in the midst of the young women on the huge draft horses. “Ye are still alive old woman?” He laughed.
“Shame on ye, young Gordon, such haiver ye be talkin. I’ll outlive all ye foolish young’uns. Besides, I cannae leave this Earth without seeing me poor nieces safely wed, noo ken I?”
Godet let out a soft groan of embarrassment.
“Aunt Hexy, please,” implored a girl that looked a bit like Godet, but darker, bolder in figure, not as delicate as Godet.
“I’d marry any man that rode a horse as fine as those big blacks…” This was spoken by a girl with hair reminiscent of the color of corn and wheat in the autumn fields. She smiled unabashedly as she stared at the horses. Her eyes were a bright, crystal green and had a slant to them that made them look like they were always smiling or laughing.
“Ye see, Godet, look at him. He wears a kilt like a warrior. He will save us all, just like in the stories,” the smallest of girls stated. Gordon heard Godet groan again. He stared at the tiny, slip of a girl who had spoken. She was all golden and delicate like a small angel.
Gordon turned to Godet who was blushing hotly. Bright spots of pink were shown on her creamy cheeks. “I take it these are yer sisters?” he asked, watching her closely. Her lips were lush and pink and he had trouble looking away from her. She was too beautiful. In fact, each of these girls was a beauty. But Godet... no one could compare to her beauty, he thought. He wondered why she had brought them all. A simple maidservant and her aunt as a chaperone would have sufficed. What did the little blonde one mean by ‘he would save them all’?
“Aye, they are,” she answered him quietly but firmly. “Our traveling coach with our luggage and some servants are a ways back. The coach is slower. We found it more comfortable to ride our horses,” she explained.
“Ye ride a stallion?”
“Aye, I dae,” she answered, raising her chin again.
He looked to the others.
“Ours are mares,” Ceena answered, and added with a smile, “All in foal to Godets’ stallion. We couldnae leave them behind, dae ye ken?”
Gordon frowned. His irritation at the predicament he was in passing to his own stallion who clearly did not like the huge stallion Godet sat on and started to prance. Gordon stilled him and opened his mouth to tell her she had to turn around when the sound of galloping horses caught his attention. His stallion and Godets snorted and spun toward the sound. A small group of soldiers came over a ridge, heading straight toward them. They wore what looked like the Ross plaid. He relaxed thinking that some of their clansmen were going to stop them and bring them back, that this was all a mistake.
Godet’s face, however, turned white with fear and her hands trembled on the reins. She shortened them and held them tighter. Godet looked back at her sisters and saw Flori’s eyes widen in stark fear. “Flori, stay strong for me now, I beg ye!”
“But ‘tis Mungan’s soldiers again, Godet,” Flori muttered, her voice raw with memories and anxiousness.
“Dae not fear, Flori. We are with ye. Just stay behind me. Aunt Hexy! Ceena! Ina! Get behind me!” She rode forward and stopped her horse again, turning the horse’s huge body to block her sisters and aunt from the soldiers’ view.
Gordon rode up beside her as the soldiers came closer. He gave an invisible signal to his men to surround the women.
“Dae ye have any weapons on ye?” she asked him urgently in a hushed tone.
Gordon grunted and then growled in his deep voice. “What dae ye take me for?”
“Weel noo, where be they? Under that kilt of yours?” she quipped with a quick look at him and one brow raised before turning back to watch the approaching riders.
She heard his short laugh and then the whistle of steel leaving its scabbard. She saw out of the side of her eye that he had pulled a long sword out of the scabbard on his saddle and had settled it into place at his belt where it was in full view. She grimaced, hoping there would be no need for it, but she touched her dirk reassuringly where it rested in her belt.
Godet recognized the first soldier leading the others. It was Mungan’s man. She and her sisters had left while Mungan was away hunting. In reality, she knew he was thieving. Mungan’s man had been too blootered with whiskey to be aware they had gone—until now.
He rode directly up to her and sneered at her. “Ye dinnae have permission to leave ye cheeky gallus girl! Git yerselves back to the castle!”
“I willnae,” Godet’s voice trembled even as she spoke quietly but firmly. “And I am Lady Godet to ye. I am fulfilling my parents’ betrothal agreement to Gordon of the MacDonell clan. Ye cannae have anything to say aboot it.”
“Yer parents are dead! Ye answer to Mungan now and he says ye willnae be marrying a MacDonell!” He looked over at Flori and the other sisters and grinned evilly. “In fact, he says ye’ll be marrying him!” he sneered at her and laughed. “And perhaps I’ll be having my choice from the rest of ye.”
Godet reeled back at the news that Mungan planned on marrying her. Her face went ashen and she clutched at her stomach as a terrible feeling of fear swept over her. She could hear Flori whimper.
Gordon watched quietly. He did not know that the Ross’ had died. He did know who Mungan was, however. His lips formed a thin line as he stared with steely eyes at the soldier sneering at Godet who was visibly shaking now.
“I willnae!” she said in a fervent whisper. “And ye willnae touch any of me sisters ever again either!”
The soldier rode his horse forward, pushing his horse roughly into hers, and struck her hard across the face. Godet fell sideways from the force of the blow and started to come off her horse. Gordon caught her instantly, pulling her effortlessly onto his horse and onto his lap.
“Dae not ever dare to touch this woman or any of her kin ever again!” Gordon spat in a steely, deep voice. He held Godet tightly to his chest.
“The Ross’ dae not take orders from a MacDonell soldier,” sneered the man again, this time at Gordon.
“Then take orders from the Laird of Clan MacDonell, ye swine!” Gordon’s voice thundered at him in fury. A wind blew down from the craggy hills, sweeping his plaid out behind him and whipping his hair back in the wind as well. He raised his voice to a mighty roar as if taking power from the winds off the mountains. “This woman is under my protection as the Laird of Clan MacDonell! Touch her and face death. Dae ye ken?” he barked in a harsh, commanding voice. His voice was strong, dominating—a voice that was used to issuing commands and being obeyed.
The soldier shrank back at his words, staring aghast at Gordon. “I dinnae know ‘twas ye, Laird! I was just following orders! I have no quarrel with ye, Laird!”
“Orders to strike a woman? Only a weak coward such as yerself or Mungan strikes women!” Gordon growled, his deep voice going down an octave in his disgust at the man before him.
The soldier’s feigned deference to the Laird of Clan MacDonell melted off his face and he sneered again. “Mungan will hear of this! Ye havenae heard the last of him!” he warned and wheeled his horse around and rode away. The other soldiers that came with him quickly fell in beside him.
Gordon watched them ride away with his jaw tight and his eyes narrowed into green slits as he held the fragrant bundle of trembling woman against his chest. Her firm round buttocks fit perfectly in his lap between his thighs, driving his heartbeat up several notches. He willed his body to ignore what he was feeling.
“Weel now, brother, ‘tis a fine dither ye have to sort out here ‘tisn’t it?” Tristan teased with laughter in his voice.
Gordon looked down to see Godet staring up at him. Her beautiful eyes looked confused and her full luscious lips were open slightly as she stared. He fought off the urge to bend down and kiss her. It would only take a slight tilting of his head for their lips to meet. He started to lower his head, his fingers lifting her chin up, just enough so that he could position her mouth where he wanted her against his own mouth, but her words stopped him cold.
“Laird? Ye are Laird of the Clan MacDonell?”
“Aye,” he answered gruffly. Hadn’t she known? Isn’t this why she had come to him? Hadn’t she wanted to demand he carry on with the betrothal because he was the Laird of the powerful Clan MacDonell?
Gordon stared down at those tempting lips and those hauntingly, beautiful eyes. He heard a voice over the rushing of his blood pounding through his body, it was the voice of her youngest sister.
“’Tis just like the fairy tale, isnae it?” said Ina with a big smile.
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