At The Highlander's Mercy. Terri Brisbin
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blue eyes did not sparkle now with the teasing merriment that had tempted her to leave good behaviour behind. Now, anger filled them and another shiver racked her body. With the wine making her feel strange and draining any fear she might have had of him, she stood on unstable legs to meet him and his outrageous claim straight on.
‘I will not be your mistress,’ she said loudly. The words echoed both inside her head and around it.
She watched as he ordered Dougal and the woman out of the room with a silent tilt of his head. When the door closed and the latch dropped, both making more noise than she’d ever noticed before, she knew it was time.
‘I will not make this easy for you, Rob.’
Whatever she expected of him, the quiet laugh was not it, nor the sad smile that curved his lips ever so slightly and made her want to kiss them. Covering her own mouth against the tingling in her lips, she waited. If only she had not drunk the wine, she might be able to talk him out of this.
‘No, Lilidh, you never do make things easy for me.’
He took one slow step towards her and then another. She tried to back away, but the chair behind her kept her in place. When he took her by the shoulders and led her to the bed, she should have screamed, but there was no fight left in her.
She was close to collapse, any fool with eyes could see that, both from the potion given by Beathas and her mistreatment at Symon’s and his cronies’ hands. Her body surrendered to his grasp and he guided her to the bed. Leaning over, Rob scooped her up and laid her there. Though he’d dreamt and hoped for such a thing, this was neither the time nor the manner in which he’d wanted those dreams and hopes to play out.
Lilidh sank into sleep almost as her head touched the pillow and that made it somewhat easier on him. Rob touched her cheek and she did not stir. He gathered her hair, the colour of midnight, and moved it from her face, smoothing it away and searching for any other injuries there.
‘She is a feisty one,’ Dougal said quietly from his place at the now-open door. Rob nodded and then stepped aside, motioning for both Dougal and Beathas to return to the chamber.
‘She has been called that and many other things,’ he admitted, though not speaking the ones he’d used the most to describe her. ‘See to her injuries, Beathas. All of them.’
His blood heated in anger at the thought of what Symon and his men might have done to Lilidh since they’d taken her from her guards. He should have word on those guards soon, but for now, all he could do was try to make her comfortable before all hell broke loose around them. Again.
The older woman nodded, gathered her supplies together and placed them on the bed. Then she met his gaze and stared at him. The message was clear to him—leave. So, he turned to do so, taking Dougal with him and deciding to set two guards at the door to keep everyone out. As they reached the door, though, he stumbled over a pile of chains, with a number of locks strewn among them. Long sections of heavy rope lay next to the chains.
‘Truly, Dougal? Of all the times to obey my orders, you chose this one?’ He’d spoken of chains and ropes merely as a public threat, never intending to need them.
‘One never knows when a good, stout length of rope or chains might come in handy dealing with a wench such as her,’ Dougal said, respect flowing with the words he spoke. Respect for the unconscious woman on his bed. The irony did not escape him in that moment.
‘Since the potion will keep her asleep for hours, I need to see to Symon and his cronies. No ropes or chains will be necessary here,’ he said. At Dougal’s raised brow, he continued, ‘For now.’
Chapter Four
‘You cannot succeed in this.’
Symon merely laughed at his words as Rob entered the small chamber and closed the door behind him. No matter Symon’s attempts to goad him in front of everyone, his reaction at this time would be handled in private. There would always be time to take action against him before the clan later.
‘You have as much or more to lose than I do, Symon,’ he warned, walking quietly to the window and looking out at the frenzy of activity that his cousin’s actions had caused.
‘You are a disgrace to the clan,’ Symon spat out in a fierce whisper. Turning to face his cousin, the frank hatred in the man’s eyes surprised him. ‘They should not have chosen you.’
‘But they did. And I am not the first bastard chosen as chieftain of a clan before, Symon. If you would look past your own insulted consequence to the good of the clan—’ He had not even finished the words before Symon shook his head.
‘I should be chief and laird. I have a claim stronger than yours,’ he argued.
‘Stronger than blood?’ he asked.
Illegitimate or not, his father had been chief and laird here and Symon’s claim through his mother to their common grandfather had not been strong enough to cast Rob aside in his favour. Hence the ongoing defiance and now this frank stupidity. His words struck something in Symon, for his cousin’s gaze narrowed and he glanced away.
‘If my father’s wife had delivered a son in a few months, neither of us would be questioning our positions here,’ he offered, waiting and watching for any indication of his cousin’s involvement in the recent accident that claimed Angus Matheson and his heavily pregnant new wife.
‘Aye, but she will not, will she?’ Symon asked, neither the expression in his eyes nor the way he held himself betraying anything more.
‘You will stand in the same position now as you would have in that—cousin and adviser to the next laird.’
The elders had already given their support to a betrothal of Rob and Symon’s sister so that the fighting between the two branches of the clan could be settled and to strengthen the connections between all of them. Though Rob had his own doubts and reservations about it, it did seem the perfect answer to the problems brought about by Symon’s claims. Symon’s blood, through his sister’s sons, would rule the clan and he would be a valued adviser to the next laird. Symon’s gaze darkened, but his tongue remained silent. Rob wondered if his cousin had realised how those arrangements would be muddied and troubled now with the presence of Lilidh MacLerie.
‘My sister will not abide you taking the MacLerie’s daughter to your bed,’ Symon warned.
Rob raised one edge of his brow and smiled. ‘Something you should have thought about before bringing her here. I’m certain Tyra understands the way of things among men.’
Men, especially men in power, had women to serve their needs. Wives provided heirs, but no one, no one, would question Rob’s right to treat Lilidh however he wished. If this was to be war, hostages and their treatment were controlled by the chief. Since Symon had delivered her into his hands, he could blame none but himself if his sister was now unhappy over the situation. Symon swallowed deeply and would not meet his gaze. Rob nodded once more.
‘I have given you much freedom in speaking your mind here, Symon. But that comes to an end now. You have pushed me and our clan into circumstances that could prove our demise. If you continue to interfere and do not follow my orders, I will outlaw you.’ Symon turned swiftly and faced him, his fists clenching and releasing at a furious pace.
‘You cannot!’
‘The elders approved me as laird. I can. I will if you push this,’ Rob promised. ‘If you cannot console yourself with the place of honour and value you have here, you will be forced out. Doubt it, doubt me, not.’
Symon looked as though he would argue, but at the last moment, he nodded and began to leave. Rob thought it best to add one more item for Symon to consider as he ruminated over his choices and his actions.
‘I will not take the sister of a traitor as my wife, Symon, even if the elders believe it will heal the breach between our two lines. I will not marry her if you cannot be loyal. So think