Highlander Claimed. Juliette Miller
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endeavor.”
Laird Mackenzie seemed less interested in my personality traits and more concerned about the details of my backstory that would explain not only what had brought about my arrival at their keep, but also what had led to Wilkie’s injuries. There was impatience in his tone and his manner when he said, “And we can be grateful for the lass’s audacious nerve. If she wasn’t bold enough to present herself, Wilkie may not have survived the night.” He returned to his line of questioning. “You say you were adopted by an Ogilvie landholder. Who are your parents, by birth?”
“I have no knowledge of that. An Ogilvie farmer—my father—found me, wandering as a child.”
Kade rose, and the noise of his weaponry jangled from his movement. He stood with his legs apart and his hard-muscled arms folded across his chest: a man’s stance and one that commanded attention. I met his gaze and detected in the slight narrowing of his light blue eyes and the lifted tilt of his chin that he admired my intrepid retaliation against Laird Ogilvie. I could read in his expression a small but unmistakable hint of respect. This detail not only gave me heart, but it also made me feel less afraid. And I was grateful to him for that.
“Roses, the wanderer,” said Kade.
“That was many years ago,” I said. “I was but a child of three years.”
“And still you wander,” he commented.
“I would prefer not to wander. I was given no choice.”
The laird drew his hand through his dark hair. At that moment his resemblance to his infirmed brother, whose presence I missed so fervently it felt like a physical ache, was remarkable. It occurred to me then that I’d never looked like anyone I knew in the entirety of my life. “Was it you who injured Wilkie?”
I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to anger them, and I knew this information would. But there was no way around it. “I stole some fruit from your orchards, and was taking my leave with it, using a ladder I had made. Wilkie was... Wilkie saw me and chased after me.”
“She’s not only brave but also industrious,” commented Kade.
The laird ignored this, waiting for me to continue.
“He chased me to the cave,” I said. “I refused to reveal myself to him. He attempted to remove the helmet I wore, with his sword. I struck at it. He struck back, and I reacted.”
“By nearly gutting him,” Kade pointed out, not without anger. Despite it all, I found that I wanted their respect and their approval. I had a fleeting thought that in different circumstances altogether, I might like these brothers. The men continued their quest to intimidate me, seemingly having difficulty believing that the person they stared at now was one and the same as the attacker who’d struck down their mighty warrior of a brother. The same brother who had held me firmly locked in his grasp, for comfort, unfathomably. It occurred to me then that Wilkie, in his unconscious mind, had fought to hold me close until he was possessing of his strength once again and could exact his revenge. But I remembered his eyes, and his mouth on my lips and my body as he kissed me, and I felt reassured that this was not his reason for wanting me near.
After several long seconds, the laird continued his line of questioning, “And Ogilvie has no idea where it is you’ve fled to?”
“Nay. If he knew where I was, he’d come for me. He’ll seek revenge upon me, I’m certain of it.”
“So you ask us for protection,” the laird interpreted curtly. Here was the incense I’d known to expect. But his words, even if blanketed in anger, surprised me. In fact it hadn’t occurred to me to ask them for protection. It had been a long time since I’d relied on anyone other than myself for defense of my person. Ogilvie’s gated walls had provided little sense of safety for me in the past. I would admit, as I considered it, that the Mackenzies’ walls afforded an entirely different sensibility.
“Even after you caused our brother grievous harm with the small sword you carry,” followed Kade, less amused now. “Another courageous undertaking, I daresay, considering the size of you.”
“He struck me first.”
“I find that highly difficult to believe,” Kade retorted. “Wilkie would never strike a woman.”
“He believed me to be a man,” I explained, fearful of Kade’s quietly ferocious tone. “I wore a war helmet. I refused to show my face to him. Until after we were both injured. He removed my helmet.”
“How severe is your wound?” asked the laird.
I proceeded to roll up the left sleeve of my tunic, where the new dressing was seeped through with blood. I unwound the bandage.
“Clearly he had no intention of harming you seriously,” Kade commented.
It was a slice off the top layer of muscle of my upper arm that pained me more than I was willing to admit. Now that Kade mentioned it, I was certain he was right: if Wilkie had intended to injure me fatally, he very likely would have.
“How long had you been traveling, when Wilkie found you?” the laird asked.
“Two days,” I said. “I lost my horse when I was caught by a member of Ogilvie’s search party. He allowed me to escape.”
“He allowed you to escape, even after Ogilvie had ordered you to be returned?” Laird Mackenzie sounded highly irked by the thought of a soldier disobeying the orders of his laird.
“He is known to me,” I explained. “He taught me how to fight.”
Kade folded his arms across his chest. “And why, pray tell, would a lass have the inclination to learn swordsmanship?”
“To protect myself.”
“From?” the laird prodded.
“From Laird Ogilvie, as I explained. I suspected his intentions some time ago. I was afraid of him. And so I asked Ritchie to teach me some skills. In case I needed them.”
“Where were you intending to go?” Kade asked.
“I meant to travel to the Macduff lands,” I said. “Una Macduff was first of the Ogilvie clan. It was years ago when she married, but I had hoped, if I went to her, she might show me mercy, and allow me to stay. I passed by your keep, and I saw your fields from afar. I had no food for my journey.”
“So you decided to thieve from us,” said the laird.
“I’ll repay you, Laird Mackenzie. I’m not a thief.” I corrected myself. “I wasn’t a thief. Until yesterday. I offer you my services,” I said. “If you have need of a kitchen servant, or I’m skilled in the gardens. I can assist Effie. Ismay, the Ogilvie healer, continued to teach me in quieter moments. I can sew, as well. I’ll work until my debt is done.”
Laird Mackenzie paced across the stonework in front of the crackling fire. “You really have no idea about your bloodline?” An almost pitying note clung to his question, as though he felt for me in this regard and considered it a great loss.
His mild empathy touched me. And in the aftermath of this intense interrogation, I appreciated their patience and their acceptance of all I had revealed. I had a sudden and wild longing to belong to a family like theirs, and to know the kind of affection they so clearly shared for one another. For a very brief moment, I grappled with a desire to show them my tattoo and to reveal my deepest, darkest secret. I wished this horrible mystery could once and for all be solved, whatever the consequences. I imagined sharing it with them might bring me one step closer to them, that they might see that I trusted them, and they might be more inclined to trust me, in return.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Such a revelation would likely see me cast out in due haste and with disgust. I would never see Wilkie again, not even to bid him farewell.
So I decided against it. “Nay,” I said, thoroughly drained.
The laird stopped pacing. He spoke softly, yet there was a steely