Taming the Highlander. Terri Brisbin

dripping odious globs of mud at his feet. His clan stood around them watching every movement, hearing every word.

      “I would see my brother before we wed, my lord.” Her voice was clear and indignant. She did not want to offer herself to him for naught.

      “He is well. Now, wash up and make haste.” Now that he had made the decision to wed and found the suitable bride, he was tired of waiting. The long day in the freezing wind above the keep did nothing to soothe his mood. And now she questioned him?

      She took a step closer, bringing all the odors with her. “I would see him now, my lord.”

      His people gasped at her insolence. She questioned his word before them. She must have realized her mistake for she seemed startled and blinked several times as she looked at those around her. Her gaze moved back to his and she was bold enough to meet it directly.

      “Disrespect seems to run within the clan MacCallum, I see. You would question my word?”

      “Aye, my lord. I would see my brother before any vows are taken.”

      He took in a breath, ready to lash out at her for her challenge to his honor and his orders, but Duncan’s expression warned him off. Putting her in her place, as appealing as that might be at this moment, was not the way to begin her life here in the clan. Connor knew there would be plenty of time and opportunity to correct her ways once she was completely his. He motioned to one of his men and whispered an order to him. Stepping back, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited, giving her the full weight of his gaze during the time it took to fetch her brother from the dungeon.

      He took advantage of the waiting to make a more thorough examination of his soon-to-be wife. Connor tried to see beneath the layer of mud, but could determine nothing other than the color of her eyes. They were green.

      Kenna’s had been green.

      He felt the bile surge in his stomach as it nearly reached his mouth and fought to control it. Another wave of nausea flowed through him and he almost lost the meal he’d eaten that afternoon. He had not thought of Kenna in a long time and wondered why it was now that she invaded his mind and his memories. Probably the upcoming marriage had stirred things better left alone.

      He brought his thoughts back to the woman who stood before him and realized that she was staring at him with the same intensity of his own gaze. Had his discomfort been apparent to all? He shifted his stance and turned towards the door of the keep. Two of his soldiers stood there, each one grasping one arm of Athdar MacCallum. The young man, his left arm in a sling and bruises covering his face, looked dazed and confused as the men held him in place there.

      Connor heard Jocelyn’s gasp and caught her arm as she tried to run past him to her brother. She struggled against him, but she was no match for his strength or determination in this.

      “I must go to him. He is hurt,” she said as she tried to pull free.

      “You said you wished to see him and you have. Now, you will fulfill your part of the bargain,” he whispered through clenched teeth so that only she could hear.

      “Fine, my lord. Let us marry now so that I may see to my brother’s injuries.”

      Connor yanked her back to her place before him. “You were told the provisions of the agreement, were you not?” He looked to Duncan for confirmation of that fact. At Duncan’s nod, he continued, “Once you are wedded and bedded and the agreement fulfilled, the boy will be released.”

      He couldn’t be certain, but he thought she blushed under the filth. Duncan coughed and choked at his words and the others around stood with their mouths gaping at this news. So much for discretion.

      “Then, my lord, let us find the priest and have done with it.”

      “You should wash and change before…”

      “I can take my vows dirty or clean, my lord. I would prefer to do it as quickly as possible.”

      She was insufferable! Standing before him and his clan, she was the obvious loser in this agreement, and yet, one would not be able to tell it from her stance, her words or the demanding tone of voice she used to him. Well, he was not one to back down from a challenge, especially one from a woman who should learn her place as quickly as possible.

      “Duncan, fetch the priest to us.”

      “But, Connor,” Duncan stepped forward, already arguing.

      “You heard the lady. She wishes to take her vows now. I would accommodate her in this. Get him now, Duncan.”

      Duncan had been his friend for too long not to recognize the fury that even he could hear in his own voice. The lady under discussion knew him not, but must have realized her mistake for she took a step back away from him. He held her fast, not allowing her to escape the fate that she had hastened. Turning to his men on the steps, he ordered her brother returned to his place in the dungeon. When she would have contested his orders, he squeezed her arm tightly, drawing her attention.

      “Not only his life, but also his comfort depends on your behavior, my lady. Think you well on it before the words spill from your mouth.”

      He watched as she started to speak and then stopped, clamping her lips shut. She used her free hand to move the long tangled mass of her hair out of her face and over her shoulder. Globs of mud and muck dripped onto her already-sodden cloak.

      And they waited in a silence that grew even more uncomfortable as the minutes passed until finally a stirring among the crowd opened a path for Duncan and the priest. The priest walked to him and bowed.

      “My lord, this is very unusual.”

      “Aye, Father, ’tis that.”

      “Should we not allow the lady to prepare for the ceremony and hold it on the morrow?”

      “Nay. My betrothed has requested, nay demanded, that we speak our vows now. If you will be good enough to hear them and say the words?”

      He knew Father Micheil was confused by his actions, but he also knew he would do whatever Connor wanted him to. So, a few minutes later, he found himself married once again. And if he felt overwhelmed by it, he could only imagine what his bride felt. The tremors he felt in her arm and her chattering teeth told him that she was not reacting well to the honor of being his wife.

      “Ailsa,” he called out to one of the women who served him. “Take the lady to her chambers and see to her.”

      He relinquished his hold and watched as Jocelyn wordlessly followed Ailsa into the keep. Turning to Duncan, he motioned him to his side. Connor waited until the crowd had dispersed and the activities in the yard resumed their natural noises and pace.

      “Come inside and explain why you and my bride are covered in the same mud.”

      It was only by sheer determination that Jocelyn was able to remain standing throughout the wedding and to follow the woman through the keep and up several flights of stairs in the far tower. Every step was a challenge. Every moment brought pain to her. She knew if she faltered or hesitated she would collapse in a heap on the floor. So, she focused on the hem of the woman leading her to her chamber and prayed it would not be long in coming.

      After witnessing the extent of the disregard of her newly acquired husband, she was not certain what she should expect at the top of the stairs. Ailsa opened the door to a chamber and waited for her to enter first. Dragging her sopping garments across the threshold, Jocelyn was stopped by the sight of the comforts before her.

      The room was a large one, facing east, with several windows of glass. A large hearth filled one part of one wall and an alcove set below the larger of the windows. Cushions made the wooden bench look very appealing. Even more appealing to her was the huge bed in the far corner. Hesitant to dirty the fresh rushes with the filth she carried, she looked to Ailsa for guidance.

      “Here now, lady,” Ailsa said as she approached. “Let me help ye out of those clothes.” Jocelyn had neither the desire nor the strength to resist the woman’s efforts.