Highlander Taken. Juliette Miller
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him. He was feeling the effects of his age and his illness. In the past, his hits had been much more forceful. His strength was failing him. He coughed violently and uncontrollably for a few moments, spitting the blood that rose from his lungs onto the stone floor, where it made a gruesome blotch.
I knew my father was ill. But I had not known the extent of it. And, God help me, in that moment I was almost glad of it. I was glad that he could not hurt me as much as he once would have done. I could understand, too, why he was so fervent about securing a laird-in-waiting, to take his place when he could no longer lead. And the smallest glimmer of hope clung to the periphery of this realization. If I did marry Kade Mackenzie, and if my father became too ill to lead, Kade would step up to the position. Which meant that my husband would outrank my father.
And so would I.
“You will do your duty, Stella, and that is the end of it! Now go. Get out of my sight. I will call for you later.” To his first officer, he said, “Aleck, take whatever measures are necessary to ensure my daughter’s obedience in this matter, lest she dream up another futile attempt to flee or some other equally daft scheme.”
“I am at your service, Laird Morrison,” came Aleck’s reply.
With a sick feeling in my stomach, I followed Aleck from my father’s chambers out into the wide hallway. The door closed, and Aleck fell into step beside me; at his normal pace his stride might have been twice that of my own. As we walked, he surprised me by looping his burly arm around my waist. I attempted to remove myself from his grasp, but he was not to be dissuaded.
“You heard your father’s orders as clearly as I did, Stella. I must take whatever measures necessary to ensure your obedience. Has your father mentioned to you that I asked for your hand before your marriage to Mackenzie was arranged? But you know that already, do you not? If you do refuse Mackenzie, I have every reason to believe the laird will favor my request. I am, after all, one of his most trusted officers.”
I couldn’t help blanching at his words. I knew this to be untrue; it was unlikely my father would wed me to a man of Aleck’s bloodline. But I looked up at him, aghast. The thought of marrying Aleck was even more off-putting than that of marrying Kade Mackenzie. I could remember even now the hurt I inflicted when I had refused Aleck’s long-ago gift. His face had fallen and I later regretted the cruel childishness of my reply. Ever since, Aleck had gone out of his way, when our paths occasionally crossed, to ridicule me with threatening intention. Because of this, I thought him an ill-mannered lout who caused more than a ripple of unease every time he flicked me a glance. I knew well that his animosity toward me was laced with desire and revenge.
And the disquieting thought could not be suppressed: if I attempted to mutiny from the Mackenzie marriage, a match to Aleck would likely be considered as an apt, severe punishment. At the age of fourteen, Aleck had been a shy, gangly boy. Now, he was a massive, seasoned warrior with thick black hair, irises so dark it was difficult to distinguish them from the inky hue of his pupils—a detail which only added to his somewhat sinister demeanor—and a face that could have, if I didn’t know the history of all the thoughts behind it, been called noticeable if not handsome. He was far too rough to be attractive, and far too coarse to be likable.
“Perchance your father might allow one of your younger sisters to secure the Mackenzie alliance,” he said, pulling me closer. In fact, I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the way this was progressing; there was no one about and we were still some ways from the guest chambers I shared with my sisters. “You and I could get to know each other better, Stella, while we have the opportunity. You know I’ve always had my eye on you.”
I struggled against his advances, pushing my hands against his barrel-like chest. “Aleck. Unhand me. I must return to my sisters.”
But Aleck only smiled and pulled me closer. “Don’t defy your father again, lass. He’ll be most displeased by your continued disobedience when I was given strict instructions.”
“To return me to my chambers. Nothing more.”
His lips curled in a lewd grin. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Holding me in his hard grasp, he tilted his head slightly, leaning toward me as though he might kiss me. The scent of him, of fresh blood and salty musk, filled my senses and I feared I might wretch.
Shocked and distressed, I slapped his face. He was stunned enough to loosen his grip, and I managed to disengage and run from him.
I held my skirts as I bolted as fast as my gown would allow, turning once to see him running after me, his face thunderous with rage.
And as I turned the corner, I ran right into the solid form of a very large man, who was so surprised by the sudden collision that he held me in a decisive embrace, to corral me or to steady me.
It was none other than Kade Mackenzie.
With my father’s declaration fresh in my mind, I couldn’t suppress a blush that rose to my face as Kade held me. His hands were clasped on my shoulders, and my body was pushed up against his. The contact caused him to utter a low, strangled gasp, as though this rugged, self-assured soldier was shaken by our sudden and unexpected closeness. The textures of him, I couldn’t help noticing as my breasts rose and fell from my exertions, were stunningly hard and unyielding. The scent and feel of him overwhelmed my senses. Sun and fresh air and earthy, spice-touched masculinity. “Stella.” His muttered exhale, laced with genuine surprise, was a statement of recognition more than a greeting. And it was too familiar, this address: a detail that hardly mattered now, if my father’s plans were a certainty. A fluttery memory was kicked up by his utterance. He knew my name. I will taste more of you, Stella. I have not had nearly enough. I want you as my own. But I suppressed the thought, which was very nearly painful with its sweetness. Of course Kade would now know my name, if the news that I was to become his wife had reached him, which was more than likely. He, no doubt, would have been given more say in the decision, to be sure, than I had.
After a brief shocked moment, Kade set me on my feet and took a step back. And as Aleck appeared, scruffy and enraged, Kade studied the situation with some consternation. I could see that my reddened, tearstained cheek did not escape his notice, and the observation caused his eyes to darken.
Only moments before, I had been lamenting Kade Mackenzie’s very existence, but now, as I gasped for breath, I felt overwhelmingly glad to see him.
Still dressed in his training garb and fresh from the strenuous masculine activity of sparring, and winning, Kade looked rougher and more intimidating than ever. The dramatic vitality of him drew—nay, commanded—my attention, as it had before, and I felt uneasy about this power he seemed to hold over me, as though his very presence controlled not only the direction of my eyes, but also the entirety of my thoughts. His too-long hair was windblown and the sleeveless leather training vest he wore showed off the scarred and sculpted definition of his arms. Slung across his body with a mesh of straps, belts and holsters was his ever-present arsenal of weaponry, making him look all the more dramatic. I was thankful I had not been speared by something on impact.
I had noticed an innate confidence in the Mackenzie men at the recent formal gatherings. But now, dressed in his training gear, with the sun and air still radiating from the dirt-dusted set of his shoulders, it was easy to see that this was the more natural, native state of Kade Mackenzie than the clean white shirt and smart attire. Here, clad in his leather trews, combat vest, tall boots and enough swords and knives to equip a small army, he looked wholly at ease, as though he’d not only had all his greatest successes in this outfit but also regularly slept in it. The rugged vigor of him was practically a visible force. The knowledge that I would be forced to marry him—unless I could indeed either escape or somehow talk my father out of the arrangement (either scenario I knew to be highly unlikely)—fed a squirmy, fluttery sensation into the low pit of my stomach. My anxiety—and my fascination—was manifesting itself in unusual ways, it seemed.
Kade, too, seemed oddly ruffled. His breathing was uneven, his mouth opened slightly from the force of his exhalations.
But then I was reminded of Aleck, whose large palm reached for my bare arm. Before his touch was even upon me, Kade’s knife