His Highland Rose Read online

  “And if ye pass her by now, no one will offer for Mary…” She didn’t want Mary to be hurt because Iain preferred her.

  He held up a hand. “Ye canna ken that.”

  “Nor can ye…unless…” Dismay made her chest tighten. “Ye’ve already had an offer for her?”

  The Rose looked away. “Yer sister is no’ yer concern.” He moved back behind his work table. “Now, the Brodies have yet to tender an offer, so ye have some time to become accustomed to the idea. Go to yer chamber. Get some sleep. This will seem better tomorrow.”

  “I doubt that,” Annie asserted, then fled under her father’s frown. He’d all but told her he’d made up his mind. Yet he hadn’t, quite. She hoped she’d given him more to think about, not just for her, but for her sisters, too. She paced to her chamber, replaying the conversation in her mind. Had she pushed him too hard? If so, she might have just sealed her fate.

  * * *

  To Iain, one of the Rose keep’s hallways looked much the same as another, and with torches burning low, they were full of shadows. After dinner, the Rose had poured a great deal of his excellent whisky. Iain suspected his future father-in-law was trying to get him drunk enough to become reckless in what he revealed. He’d come close to succeeding. If Anne hadn’t insisted on seeing her father—alone—Iain would have been forced to spend more time with James and his whisky. She’d saved him.

  Nonetheless, he’d consumed enough to muddle his head and make him uncertain whether this hallway led anywhere near his chamber. He never got lost. But right now, he might be. Iain went as far as the next cross hallway and stopped. Should he turn right? Or left? Was he even still in the same tower?

  He heard someone approaching and waited, steadying himself against the wall, hoping they could point him in the right direction. The footsteps sounded light and quick. A serving girl, then, hurrying to do someone’s bidding, rather than one of the other men. Good. He’d be less embarrassed to ask directions from a lass than one of Rose’s warriors.

  Out of the gloom, the lass finally came close enough to see. Anne! Ha, she’d thought to convince him she was her older sister to avoid marrying him. Well, she’d been caught. And he intended to make sure she stayed that way.

  He straightened away from the wall, but had to reach back to it when the ground shifted under his feet. Damn, Rose made good whisky. “Good evening, again, Lady Mary Anne Rose,” he announced.

  She clapped a hand to her throat. “Oh, Iain Brodie. Ye startled me. What are ye doing outside my chamber?”

  “I am?” Her chamber? This was good fortune at its best. “I’ve lost track of where…never mind.” He leaned against the wall again. Maybe its solid support would help him focus on what he wanted to say. “I hope ye have learned yer lessons.”

  “Lessons? What lessons?”

  “That ye canna lie to me, and ye canna avoid marrying me. That was the urgent subject of yer conversation with yer father, aye?”

  “Ye’ve had too much to drink. I can hear it in yer voice.”

  “That matters nought.”

  “Then I’ll tell ye what does matter. I didna lie. My name is Mary…Mary Anne, as ye now ken. My sisters are Mary Elizabeth and Mary Catherine.”

  Iain crossed his arms and snorted. “All Marys?” Anne—Lady Mary Anne—crossed her arms, too, and Iain smiled, certain he’d ruffled her composure and glad of it.

  “Father wed a devout Catholic mademoiselle while fighting in France. Maman insisted on naming each of us Mary, in the hopes the Holy Mary would be flattered and help the next bairn be a boy.” She shrugged. “It didna work. As for the other, I willna marry ye.”

  She tried to push past him, but he reached out, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. She felt so good in his arm, he wrapped the other one around her, too, and pulled her closer.

  “Let me be, Iain.” She pushed against his chest.

  Iain realized she was not struggling, just keeping some distance between them. More distance than Iain wanted. A brawer lass he’d never met. He reached up and played with a loose tendril of her hair, wrapping its golden softness around his index finger and wishing he could grab whole handfuls of the glorious stuff. “I’ll wager when yer da shouts Mary! ye all come running, aye?” He chuckled, but cut it off when he saw anger flash in her eyes. How could he know she was in no mood for teasing? Perhaps, then, she was in the mood for sweet words. “Ye are very good with a bow and arrow,” he complimented her. “I like that. Do ye ken the Brodie crest?”

  “I do.”

  “Then ye see—yer skill with a bow has destined ye to be the perfect Lady Brodie and lady wife for me.”

  “I see nothing of the sort.” She pushed against his chest again. “Ye are already the Brodie’s heir, so why must ye find a bride?”

  Iain had enough sense not to tell her the entire truth about the reputation he’d come here to repair, and to realize seducing the lass would not help that cause. “He values my ability to fight, and to lead Brodie in battle. And he fears those will no’ be enough to sway the elders opposed to me.”

  She nodded and studied him for a moment, as if absorbing what that meant. “Do ye need help finding yer chamber?”

  Her question threw him for a moment. He’d expected her to ask more about his past. But his response appeared to satisfy the lass, so he told her simply, “I do.”

  “Then let me go, and I’ll lead ye there.”

  “Or I could join ye in yers. That would settle the matter of the marriage, would it no’?”

  Annie gasped, and for a moment he expected her to slap him. He released her, but his arms felt empty without her in them. He needed her touch, so he took her hands in his. “I dinna wish to lose ye in the dark, lass.” He lifted one hand to his mouth and kissed it. She didn’t pull away, which pleased him. He laid his cheek against her palm. The warmth of her skin pleased him more.

  Then she pulled her hand away and tugged his arm. “I’d best get ye back to yer chamber,” she muttered, “before ye fall down. I canna carry ye, and I dinna wish to call for help and have to explain being alone with ye near my chamber.”

  Iain couldn’t understand why helping him back to his chamber would make her sound annoyed. “Perhaps ye wish me to stay with ye after all?”

  Her hand twitched, but she didn’t let go. “Nay!”

  She pushed off, forcing Iain to go with her or fall on his arse. He leaned into her, enjoying her nearness, and the heat and scent of her body, more than she would have allowed, had she known. She kept a firm grip on his arm, but that didn’t satisfy Iain. He wanted her firm grip a good deal lower. Nay, he couldn’t mention that. She’d slap him for certain and then stomp off, leaving him lost and alone in a dark hallway. Fortunately, they didn’t have far to go. In moments, she announced they’d reached his door and let him go.

  “I’ll bid ye good night,” she told him. “Please dinna offer for me and put my father in the position of turning ye down.”

  Iain curled his fingers and trailed the backs down the side of Lady Mary Anne’s sweet face to her throat, pleased when her eyes widened and her chest lifted. “Are ye so certain he’ll turn us down?”

  Her gaze dropped.

  Sorry he’d made her sad, Iain leaned in and kissed her. The brief touch of his lips to hers set him aflame. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss. He wanted more, but she pulled back.

  “Iain…”

  His name on her lips made him open his eyes. Her wide-eyed gaze made her look so stricken, so unsure, he took pity on her, stepped back and opened his door.

  She nodded and went on her way.

  He watched until she disappeared in the darkness, thinking all the while she hadn’t objected to his touch or his kiss. Hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t pushed him away. She said she didn’t wish to marry, but Iain knew he could woo her until she changed her mind. She loved animals. They had that in common. She especially loved her horse. He could start there and find other shared interests to bind her to him.<
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  And, he recalled with a laugh as he closed his door on the now empty hallway, he stood to gain even more. Kenneth, who’d wagered he wouldn’t have to chase a Rose lass, owed him his best horse.

  Chapter 4

  The stable boy insisted on helping Annie saddle her horse, or she would have been gone long before Iain and her father arrived. Through narrowed eyes, she watched them approach along the stable’s center aisle, then cut a glare at the lad as he announced her mount was ready to go.

  Belle might be ready, but Annie suspected there would be a delay.

  “There ye are, daughter,” her father called out, smiling. “I was just telling Iain how ye like to ride in the morning and suggested he go with ye.” He clapped Iain on the back hard enough to make Annie wince. “Ye two should enjoy some time together. ’Twill give ye a chance to get better acquainted, aye?”

  Her father wanted her to ride out—alone—with Iain? Speechless, Annie fumed, stuck for a good excuse to refuse. So her pleas had had no effect. If he thought risking her reputation would force her to accept the match, he’d be disappointed. Apparently, no one had informed him they had ridden together once already. The longer she delayed, the less jovial her father’s expression became. When it shifted to a frown, she gave in and inclined her head to him, then scowled at Iain through her lashes. She knew what he was up to, enlisting her father. She would ride with him again, but she didn’t have to like it. Or him.

  “Thank ye, James,” Iain told her father.

  James? Ach, nay. They’d already gotten too cozy.

  Iain gave her a smile, then tossed his saddle onto his mount. “A good morning to ye, lass,” he said.

  She was surprised he could stand, given his condition when she found him outside her door last night. Perhaps she should tell her father what had transpired. But her father had left the stable while she skewered Iain with her glare. She could see him waiting just outside. Ready to intervene, no doubt, if she took it into her head to return to the keep instead of obeying him.

  Belle nickered, and Annie’s irritation drained away. Belle could always calm her, and the anticipation of a good ride usually made both of them happy. If only she wasn’t going to have company.

  She watched Iain for a moment as he readied his horse. He was the Brodie heir, but there must be other contenders if his father feared their elders would not accept him as laird. Though she didn’t like being the object of his quest, his eagerness to appease his father now made sense. She could sympathize, being in much the same position herself.

  And she could enjoy the way his muscles flexed and bunched as he moved around his horse. While his big hands tugged and tightened cinches with ease, Annie recalled those hands enfolding hers, his fingers trailing gently down her face and throat, the brush of his whisky-scented lips on her mouth. Then his gaze met hers, snapping her out of the pleasant haze. He was ready. Was she?

  He lifted her onto Belle, then they headed out, her father beaming as the horses passed him. Annie wanted to snarl at him, but she merely nodded.

  As they left the stable and her meddling father behind, Iain remarked, “Yer father seems quite determined for us to spend time together. He fairly dragged me out of the hall to…join…with ye.”

  Annie ignored his double-entendre, though the idea of her father doing such a thing shocked her. “He did, did he? And ye had nought to do with it?” She kept her tone light, but her heart sank, recalling Iain’s taunt of the night before. Nay, she could not be certain her father would turn down Iain’s offer of marriage. Not after this. James, indeed.

  “I, of course, could no’ refuse the laird of Clan Rose. So here I am.” They passed through the open gate. “Where shall we go?”

  Where should they go? She debated as they rode at a leisurely pace across the glen behind the keep, letting the horses warm up. Could she lose him in the forest? Doubtful. He was a warrior, as good a rider—or better—than she. Of course, he might be somewhat impaired by the amount of whisky he’d consumed last night, so she might outrun him. Then inspiration struck. She’d take him as far as the fairy pool. If he dismounted to water his horse, she could ride off and leave him to find his own way back, which should take him a few hours. Hours she could use to bend her father to her will.

  “Follow me,” she challenged and kicked her mount into a run. Belle could race like the wind, and Annie weighed a good deal less than Iain. Since his steed was larger than hers, he stayed close, but she reached the woods just ahead of him. Panting from the excitement of riding so fast, so freely—and winning—she slowed to let Belle pick her footing. The uneven ground, marked by tree roots and tangled brambles, could be treacherous. The deer trail leading deep into the forest had to be close by. Hard to see unless one knew where to look for it, the trail might confound Iain’s attempts to return to the Rose keep, especially if she could distract him from noticing it as they went along.

  Iain caught up where the trail widened. “Ye ride well,” he told her, pulling up beside her.

  Annoyed he was barely breathing hard after their race, she nonetheless warmed to his praise. “I’ve been riding since before I could walk. When father started to teach Mary, who is two years older, I demanded a pony, too.”

  “So yer father has done as ye asked since ye were a wee lass?”

  Most of the time. If only she could be certain he would, this time. “No’ always.”

  “Then I have a chance.”

  Annie took her gaze off their route through the trees and studied him. His words had sounded like a taunt, but his expression was too serious. She saw no hint of a mean-spirited smirk.

  She rode in silence for a while then asked, “Why am I so important? There must be many…maybe dozens…of lasses who long to be yer bride.”

  “Ye give me too much credit, Lady Anne.”

  “I’m called Annie.”

  “Verra well…Annie.”

  Annie. Despite herself, she liked the sound of her name on his tongue. “Even if there have been only a handful, why me?”

  He got a faraway look that told her he was caught in a memory. An unguarded smile lifted his lips, making him look so adorable, so delectable…nay, she could not fall for his charm, especially when she knew he wasn’t trying to be charming. He simply…was.

  “Do ye recall when Brodie visited ten years ago? I was the lad who chased ye and yer sisters around the bailey until ye led me into the garden. I stole a kiss and ye ran from me. We trampled some flowers, and yer mother threatened to send all of us to bed without supper.”

  “I was eight or nine, then. That was ye?”

  “Aye. I was a couple of years older than Mary, I think. Even then, something about the middle daughter caught my eye.”

  “Ye are making this up.”

  “When Kenneth and I rode into the bailey this time, I saw ye. I told ye, ye took my breath away. And ye were so brave in yer defense of the wee hound. I didna ken right away ye were the same lass. But I kenned ye were the one I wanted.”

  “Ye didna ken anything about me.” She shook a finger at him. “Ye still dinna. How could ye think to make such an important decision on so little acquaintance?”

  He reached over and took her hand.

  Bemused, Annie let him keep it, and found herself enjoying the strength of his grip, the sensations running up her arm caused by his thumb tracing circles over the back of her knuckles.

  “I didna think. I felt it. Until ye turned and ran into the stable, I couldna look away. I nearly tripped over a sow loose in the bailey.”

  Annie nearly laughed out loud as an the image filled her mind of Iain sprawled in the mud, one foot still splayed on a pig’s back. Instead, she pulled her hand free. “Ye are daft.”

  “Do ye no’ enjoy my touch?”

  “Does it matter?” She didn’t want him to know how he affected her. If he did, he’d never give up his pursuit.

  “Of course. A wife should welcome her husband’s touch.”

  Did he truly believe t
hat? It made him sound like a man who would care for a wife, not treat her like one of the servants—or a brood mare. Not that it mattered. She didn’t want to marry him. And Mary, as eldest, should be the one to claim Iain and become lady of his clan. “Ye will make someone a good husband.”

  “But no’ ye?”

  “I am needed at Rose, and I’m happy as I am.”

  “Ye might be happier as my wife.”

  “Or I might not. By the time I found out, it would be too late.”

  “’Tis the chance every couple takes when they marry, whether the marriage is arranged, or they choose each other.”

  “I am no’ willing to take that chance. I will spend a great deal of time getting to know a man. He must accept me as I am, with my strengths and my flaws, before I agree to be his wife.”

  “Ye may wish to, but I dinna believe ye will. Lass, ye ken yer father will do as he thinks best for Rose, as well as for ye and yer sisters.”

  “If that were true, we wouldna be having this conversation,” Annie complained and flicked her reins, determined to leave Iain behind.

  * * *

  Iain took off after Annie. She tore through the woods too fast for safety. If she wasn’t very careful, she could be knocked from her horse by a tree limb. Or her mount could stumble over roots and throw her to the ground. He did not want her to get hurt.

  “Annie, wait!” he called, but she kept going. She’d said she’d been riding since before she could walk, so he prayed she knew what she was doing…and where she was going.

  To his relief, they soon broke out into a clearing. There, she slowed Belle to a walk and approached a small pool with a low waterfall dancing down the rocks behind it, a burn spilling over its lip and meandering away downhill into the woods. Sunlight became cool, blue-green magic filtered through the surrounding trees, except where it sparkled on water, bright and lively. His fingers itched to draw the scene. When he got closer, he could see lazy bubbles rising to the surface of the pool near the pebbled edge where they stopped. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a spring fed by a burn as well.