To Wed A Wicked Highlander bboth-3 Read online

  The woman’s smile brightened. “Come inside, my dear. All of ye.”

  * * *

  To say there was tension among the people in the room would understate the situation. Granted, it was hard to erase all the years of turmoil and hardship the MacKenzies had caused, but Alex’s clan needed to at least try to make amends. He hoped his impending marriage would open that door and only prayed it wouldn’t close before he had the chance to complete the task.

  Pulling himself to his feet, Alex lifted his tankard. Silence enveloped the room and all eyes were upon him. He chose his words carefully. “Let us nae speak of the past, but look toward the future with hope and promise.” An unwelcome tension stretched even tighter among the clans and blank stares continued to gaze back at him. They did not look convinced—at all. Not a smile was to be had, unless he counted Aunt Iseabail. He needed to do something fast.

  When he glanced down at his betrothed, she sat in the chair, her thin fingers tensed in her lap. Her emerald gown clung to the luscious curves of her body, and for a moment, Alex had to be honest. MacKenzie or not, the lass had grown into a beautiful woman. He had a hard time keeping his eyes from her. She was still the same wild beauty he had met at the waterfall so many years ago. Back then she was just a young lass, straight as a stick. But now, she had filled out in all the right places and was feminine—very feminine.

  He extended his hand and pulled her to her feet. “And let me introduce my future bride, Lady Sybella MacKenzie.” He lifted Sybella’s hand, and when he brushed a soft kiss on her ivory fingers, the MacKenzie men cheered. It was only a matter of time before Alex’s kin followed.

  “Now let us all enjoy this bountiful feast and welcome the union of our clans. ’Tis indeed a celebration,” said Alex, his voice laced with pride. He and his future bride sat back down at the table. Damn. The woman had no idea how captivating she was when she smiled.

  The tables were covered with meat, cheeses, and breads, and Aunt Iseabail’s flowery touches were placed in bundles on each of the tables. He had to admit that he was rather pleased. Glengarry looked welcoming for the new lady of the castle. He only hoped Sybella felt the same.

  “Nicely done, MacDonell,” said the MacKenzie, giving him a brief nod.

  Alex returned the same gesture and then leaned in close to his betrothed. “Are ye pleased?”

  Her tankard froze at her lips, and a puzzled look crossed her features. “What?” She hesitated and then quickly added, “Pardon, my laird?”

  When Alex repeated the question and she still held the same look of confusion, he smiled. “Our clans, they are conversing.” She nodded slightly and then took another sip from her tankard. “Since ye are to be my wife on the morrow, ye may call me by my given name, Alexander. My friends call me Alex.”

  “Verra well. If ye insist. The food is verra good, Alexander,” she said with quiet emphasis.

  So that was the game his future wife wanted to play. He couldn’t help but turn up his smile a notch. “Aye. Cook prepared a fine meal. The meat is actually from your father.”

  “Mmm…I wondered how much cattle I was worth,” Sybella retorted with cold sarcasm.

  He raised his brow. “Pardon?”

  She shook her head and rubbed her temples. “Tha mo cheann goirt.” I have a headache.

  “Would ye like to retire to your chamber?”

  Sybella squared her shoulders, her creamy breasts rising over her formfitting gown. “Please accept my apologies. I am nae yet ready to take my leave.”

  As he was about to return to his own meal, he noticed a woman waving to his betrothed. In fact, he believed the woman had been introduced as Mary. When his eyes met Mary’s, she quickly looked to the ground at the same time he felt Sybella stiffen at his side. Not thinking it was his imagination, he continued to look in the woman’s direction several additional times. She was definitely giving his betrothed some type of signal.

  “Do ye think it will rain on the morrow? I wouldnae want mud to dirty the gown I had made for the occasion,” said Sybella in an odd tone.

  His eyes widened in surprise. “I donna think it will rain. I am sure your dress will be fine. Are ye all right?” He couldn’t help but notice the forced words that seemed to escape her lips. It was also hard to miss the fact that she had adjusted her posture and sat ramrod straight as if bound in the tightest corset imaginable. In truth, his betrothed looked uncomfortable and pained.

  “Of course,” said Sybella, returning to her meal.

  Alex made another quick and involuntary appraisal of her features. The lass had certainly grown in more bountiful places since the last time he had kissed her innocent lips. It seemed not that long ago when he had discovered the young girl at the waterfall. Although only a boy himself, the memory of her unsullied touch stayed with him long after their encounter. He often wondered what had become of her.

  The corner of his lips lifted into a smile when he realized he would fulfill the nagging fantasy that plagued him as a lad. He discreetly reached down and adjusted the front of his kilt, finding a great sense of satisfaction in the fact that on the morrow, his fantasy would no longer be a dream.

  * * *

  Mary was annoying. The infuriating woman’s unrelenting gestures for initiating polite conversation or for sitting up straight were making Sybella daft. And the amusing part was that her foolish cousin had no idea how close she was to being pummeled into oblivion. Sybella tried desperately to disguise her annoyance in front of others but didn’t think she was fooling Alexander.

  The man continued to survey her, and her pulse skittered alarmingly. She cleared her throat, pretending to be unaffected by his gaze. Her heart began to hammer in her chest, and she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. Her cousin rattled her. Of course, that most definitely was not because of the man sitting beside her, devilishly handsome. His strong features held a certain sensuality she could not deny; however, she could ignore it—more or less.

  Alexander leaned back, sizing her up, and that was the point when Sybella realized her behavior was absolutely ridiculous. The position of her back was causing it to ache. Why should she care what notion the man held of her feminine qualities? She never pretended—for anyone.

  She sat back casually in the chair, relaxing to the best of her ability and soaking up the air of the celebration. Once the men lightened their moods, the sounds of laughter spread throughout the great hall. The reason for their merriment could have been the result of the flowing ale, but it was a somewhat enjoyable occasion nonetheless.

  The MacDonells truly did everything they could to make the MacKenzies feel at home. And Sybella’s kin must have felt it too because as the evening progressed, some of them sat at the table with Alexander’s family. By the jovial expressions among the clans, they were all at least feigning to mend the past. Although the idea was somewhat unbelievable, Alexander even treated her with dignity and respect. Granted, they barely spoke, but she gave him the credit he deserved. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as terrible as she had initially thought.

  Her father should be proud. Moreover, the man appeared downright pleased as he mingled with the MacDonell men, Colin by his side. She was glad to see that her father’s spirits weren’t dampened by her impending union. Even though her only purpose was to steal back the stone, she knew it must be difficult for her father to not only lose his wife but now his daughter as well.

  The hour grew late and her back was sore between her shoulder blades. The women would probably seek their beds shortly, and the men would more than likely drink themselves under the table. As long as everyone remained in their cups, no one should really bother her. Undoubtedly, they wouldn’t even notice she was missing. She briefly wondered if she’d be able to search for the stone now, and then she remembered Colin’s words to earn the MacDonell’s trust first. Damn. She knew that finding the stone this eve and not having to speak her vows in the morn would be too much to hope for. At any rate, it was time to make her escape.

&nb
sp; “Alexander,” Sybella said softly. When her betrothed glanced toward her, she cast her gaze downward. “I think it best to seek my chamber now.”

  He rose to his feet and pulled out her chair. “Let me have someone escort ye.”

  She shook her head. “That isnae necessary. My trunk was brought up and I know where ’tis found. I thank ye for this fine celebration.” When she started to walk away, he called to her.

  “Lady MacKenzie…” When she turned around and raised her brow, Alexander lazily appraised her. “I will see ye on the morrow. Sleep well,” he said, his voice low and consciously alluring.

  As their eyes met, Sybella felt a shock run through her. It was too easy to get lost in the way the man looked at her. She felt a curious swooping pull at her innards. Unsettled, she moistened her dry lips and turned on her heel.

  * * *

  Colin approached his father, pushing him toward an unoccupied wall. He slapped his father’s shoulder. “All of the men are knee deep in their cups. It appears the MacDonells have welcomed Sybella into their home. Her charm is fairly catching. How could they nae?”

  “They arenae but a bunch of daft fools,” spat his father. He glanced around the great hall and then lowered his voice. “I assume ye will take this opportunity then.”

  A heavy silence fell.

  “To do what? The MacDonell seems verra pleased,” said Colin in a reassuring tone.

  His father’s coolness was evidence that he was not amused. “Find my bloody stone.”

  Four

  “I honestly donna know why your father and Colin donna throttle ye.” Mary sat down on a chair in Sybella’s bedchamber. “Whether ye like it or nae, the MacDonell is to be your husband. Ye need to act as a lady, Sybella. Ye barely spoke to your betrothed this eve, and your posture was just dreadful at the table. Didnae ye see me? I tried to tell ye. If ye keep up with that type of behavior, the MacDonell may have ye eating in the stable with the other animals.”

  Sybella recognized that Mary meant well in her own way, but her cousin-by-marriage didn’t know the true purpose behind this marriage. If she did, Sybella knew Mary wouldn’t understand. The woman loved and doted upon Angus, and she was foolish enough to think that women should be allowed to marry for love as well as convenience. But for Sybella, it was too late. As Sybella, Colin, and her father had discussed, they would tell no one, including Mary and Angus.

  Although Sybella’s loyalties lay with her father, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat deprived. She would never know the feeling of what Angus and Mary shared. She would never know love, because her marriage was nothing more than a ruse.

  While Mary continued to ramble, Sybella fell back on the bed and studied the stone walls of her prison—well, her permanent residence for the rest of her days. The bed in which she lay had tall, carved corner posts, and its heavy wooden frame took up the majority of one wall. A beautiful golden coverlet displayed fine needlework, something she would surely never master, and was draped over the feather mattress, which was surprisingly comfortable. On the far side of the room, a painted portrait of someone she had assumed to be Alexander’s mother hung above a fairly large stone fireplace. And her cousin-by-marriage currently occupied the small sitting area, refusing to cease her incessant chatter.

  “Angus and I tried to tell ye—”

  Sybella pressed both hands over her eyes as if they burned with weariness. She was tired, drained from another lecture.

  “God’s teeth! Will ye cease?” asked Sybella, spacing the words evenly. “If the MacDonell decides to call off the wedding, it will nae be because of my lack of comportment.”

  As if her arse was afire, Mary flew to her feet. “I only look after ye, and your first impression was far from a good one. Do ye want your betrothed to see his bride as some uncivilized, unmannered woman? Ye didnae let him assist ye from your mount, and then ye stared verra boldly at him. Ye barely spoke to the man at sup, and must I remind ye again of how dreadful your posture was at the table? Ye sit as a man, Ella. If I may be so bold, ye have made enough errors in judgment that ye should be taking my instruction willingly. Now if ye will excuse me, Angus awaits. Mayhap we will be able to speak again on the morrow when ye arenae so sensitive.”

  Sensitive?

  “Mary, I love ye dearly, but take your leave before I strangle ye with my bare hands,” Sybella warned.

  Stunned by Sybella’s bluntness, Mary snapped her mouth shut. She turned on her heel and strode out the door. Even though it pained Sybella to admit as much, Mary did have a valid point. She had barely conversed with Alexander this eve. She needed to remind herself to make it a personal goal not to call him Alex. God forbid she surrendered that easily and gave the rogue the satisfaction of knowing she’d lowered her defenses.

  Taking a deep breath, she drew the conclusion that this was probably not the best way to start a marriage. She hadn’t tried to speak or make pleasantries with the man because frankly, she didn’t give a damn about him. But granted, the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her father. It was important she please him, make him proud. Laird Kenneth MacKenzie was truly a great man and deserved a daughter who was not an embarrassment to the clan.

  Sybella rose from the bed and straightened her gown. What she needed was some fresh air, a new perspective. Perhaps a brisk walk on the parapet would help to clear the haze. She was proceeding out the door when a scraping noise sounded from the opposite end of the hall.

  “Is anyone there?” asked Sybella. When no one answered, she closed the door and continued with her purpose.

  When she reached the door to the parapet, she saw a disheveled man who had his arm draped over a voluptuous woman with fiery red tresses. Sybella presumed the drunken man was a MacDonell from his bawdy laughter—well, that and the fact that he was wearing a MacDonell plaid. The man pulled the woman roughly, almost violently, to him against the stone wall.

  Sybella’s temper flared.

  She was about to defend the helpless woman when she froze midstep. The woman responded—by burying her lips against the MacDonell man’s throat and sliding her leg up around his waist. Suddenly, she didn’t appear as helpless as Sybella had initially thought. When the woman proceeded to slip her hands underneath the MacDonell man’s kilt and his expression tightened with strain, Sybella’s eyes rounded with comprehension.

  The woman did not need saving.

  It wasn’t as if Sybella hadn’t spied on Colin enough to know how the act was done, but she couldn’t disguise her body’s reaction to the sight displayed so openly before her eyes. The man and woman pawed at each other out in the open, not in a bedchamber. At least her brother had enough sense not to be so visible. He would’ve taken his leman to a bed or at least sought a hidden hayloft. But no matter how disturbed she was by witnessing their carefree touches, Sybella could not find the strength to pull away.

  The man repositioned himself, and when he let out a guttural moan, Sybella could not help the loud gasp that escaped her lungs. The man’s head turned slightly toward her, and then he gently pushed the woman away from him.

  “M’lady.” He attempted to give her a low bow as his companion steadied him. The woman tried to straighten her clothing while the man spoke, his words barely comprehensible. “We were heading to the p-p-parapet. Unless of course, ye w-w-wanted…”

  Sybella was glad of the semidarkness that hid the flush on her cheeks. “Nay, I was returning to my chamber. Thank ye.” The last thing she wanted was to be in the middle of a lovers’ tryst, let alone spying on one. What the hell was the matter with her? Why hadn’t she fled when she had the chance?

  She walked hastily through the halls, thoroughly embarrassed by the scene she had witnessed. She should’ve stayed in her chamber and sought her bed. That’s what she wanted to do in the first place. Now she was paying a humiliating price for her stupidity.

  She had almost reached the safe confines of her bedchamber when she spotted someone ducking into one of the rooms at the end of the ha
ll. In fact, that certain someone looked vaguely familiar.

  Moving quietly down the hall, Sybella approached the room. But as soon as she bent over to see if a light was illuminated from underneath the door, the chamber went dark. She hesitated, questioning what she thought she saw. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but she could have sworn…

  She lifted her hand and gently knocked on the door. When no one answered, her curiosity was most definitely aroused. This may not have been one of her brightest ideas. Who knew what she could be walking into? The thought barely crossed her mind when someone reached out and pulled her abruptly into the room.

  She gasped.

  “What the bloody hell are ye doing here, Ella?”

  * * *

  Alexander reveled in the aftermath of the celebration. A few MacDonell men were passed out with their heads down on the tables, not to be outdone by the MacKenzie men who were splayed upon the great hall floor. He never thought he’d see the day when MacKenzie men slumbered on the MacDonell crest inlaid in the stone floor. In any event, Alex sat in the laird’s chair, his father’s chair, pleased at conclusion of the day’s events.

  “I see your betrothed has retired for the eve.” John pulled out a chair and sat down. “Did ye fire her ire, or did she run back to Kintail with her tail between her legs?”

  Alex chuckled in response and poured John a tankard of ale. “I donna know. In either instance, at least we have the cattle.”

  “I hope to hell ye know what ye’re doing.”

  Imposing an iron control, Alex spoke confidently. “We already had this discussion. ’Tis a lot of cattle for our clan to be fed and the MacKenzie has taken so much from us already. Think of it as them paying us back for all the things they’ve taken.”