The Highlander's Viking Bride: Book 2 in the Hardy Heroines series Page 2

  His lips tilted up in fond memory of the young woman sitting on a rock warming in the sun, wearing little more than her skin. So affected by her beauty, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, he could only watch from the shelter of the forest. Her long, lithe body lay gracefully along the rock, blonde hair twisted into a thick braid reaching the curve of her hips. Her skin, the color of cream, seemed flawless. She appeared both innocent and provocative with small breasts riding high on her chest. A dusting of fair curls nestled between her legs, easily seen through her short, thin chemise. Unable to see the color of her eyes, Calder guessed them to be of the deepest blue.

  She slipped from her rock and into the water, swimming effortlessly for a time before climbing out again. After drying in the sun, she donned trews and a tunic over her abbreviated chemise. Mounting a blue roan gelding tethered to a nearby tree, she headed deep into Sinclair lands. Calder had lingered for several minutes, bewitched by the scene he’d witnessed. Moved beyond reason, his world had shifted in an unseen and unfamiliar way.

  Returning home, he’d asked about, seeking to learn who she might be, to whom she belonged. To his frustration, he learned his siren of the loch was the Sinclair laird’s daughter. It was completely out of the question he would seek out the daughter of his enemy, much less an earl’s daughter whose rank placed her far above him. His disappointment, however, did not keep him from thinking of her often. She invaded his sleep many nights. Even now, two years past, she never strayed far from his thoughts.

  The possibility he might see her again raised his pulse, and nervousness fluttered in his belly. Always at ease around the lasses, Calder couldn’t understand what it was about this one that made his heart race like a skittish colt. Whatever the reason, her image rolled through his mind, thickening his blood and hardening his body.

  Chiding himself for youthful foolishness, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, not some youthful dream beyond his reach. Certainly she was another man’s wife by now. Yet he was unable to completely banish the hope he would lay eyes on her while on Sinclair land. He pushed hard enough to force the small yearning into the back corner of his mind. Still, she continued to taunt him, refusing to be ignored. Calder gained a sliver of understanding of why Adam dishonored his vows to God for the love of a woman.

  Sinclair guards greeted the MacGerrys cautiously at the gate though their arrival was expected. Peasants leaving the castle on their way home eyed the MacGerrys with fear and suspicion.

  Up close, the Sinclair stronghold loomed impressively, dwarfing the scope of the MacGerry home. Blocks of red stone stood in contrast to the green of the surrounding landscape, hence its name, Ruadhcreag. The high, thick curtain walls protected four stone towers riddled with loopholes designed to accommodate either bows or crossbows. These, along with multiple iron gates, made this fortress all but impenetrable. Any hostile force would be better waiting for the Earl of Caithness to surrender, exhausting his supplies over time, rather than to throw themselves hopelessly at these walls.

  Leaving their horses with the stable lads, Calder and his men followed the guards who escorted them to the great hall as distrustful eyes shifted their way. The Sinclair laird was seated at the raised table with three young men. Taking notice of their arrival, he rose.

  “Welcome. I am Henry Sinclair. These are my sons, Bjorn, Christer and Patrik. Come. Join us as guests at our table.” Sinclair’s stout frame and burnished auburn hair contrasted sharply to his taller blond sons, though the eldest appeared more the coloring of his sire.

  Exchanging a glance, Calder and Finn joined the laird while their men accepted seats at a lower table. Calder immediately noticed the abundance of food and the comfort of the hall.

  Elaborate tapestries covered the stone walls. Windows were fitted with glass. The room glowed, well-lit from the innumerable candles in stands against the walls, and in chandeliers hung over the tables. A great hearth blazed at one end, adding light and warmth to the room. The table and chairs they sat upon were of an ornately carved dark wood. Silver quaichs rested in front of each chair, awaiting wine or ale.

  A servant poured ale into the drinking bowls while two others brought out platters of game fowl, fresh baked bread, and soup. Bowls of honey and butter graced the table. Calder’s stomach rumbled at the smell of hot meat pies. He could not recall seeing so much food at one time. Everything about the room and meal spoke of wealth and prosperity.

  As one of the serving women poured Calder’s ale, she bent over enough to allow him a full view down her bodice. After filling his cup, she caught his eye and gave him a smile promising a warm bed should he be interested.

  The Sinclair’s voice boomed from the high table, disrupting Calder’s subtle decline of the woman’s services.

  “Allow me to express my sympathies on the loss of yer father. I dinnae know him, but all said he was a good man. This feud has been costly for both clans. I welcome the offer to end hostilities between our people. No one here can remember why we are at odds.”

  “’Tis the same for us,” Calder replied.

  “Then let us toast to new beginnings,” Sinclair offered as he raised his quaich in a toast. Around the tables, the others followed their laird’s example. So far, their welcome was more than Calder could have hoped for. A prickling sensation down his spine cautioned him something was afoot.

  * * *

  Katja reluctantly heeded her father’s summons to the great hall. She much preferred taking meals in her chamber, as constant criticism and scorn from her father made for poor company. Her only regret was not spending the time with her brothers. She remembered the days before her amma died when mealtimes were pleasant, even enjoyable. She did not remember the days when her ma was alive.

  Everyone in the keep knew guests had arrived—rumored to be the hated MacGerrys. Her father would likely use the opportunity to dangle her as bait again for some sort of alliance, her hand in marriage as part of the bargain. She grimaced. The MacGerry laird was as old as her sire—as were all the men her da had presented as prospective husbands.

  “I willnae marry a man thrice my age. Why does he keep bringing such old relics about, Freki? Has the man not made the acquaintance of anyone younger than two score?”

  Her companion did not answer.

  Katja hurried to the great hall with Freki at her side. If she allowed her sire to wait too long, he would add to her humiliation by displaying her like a freshly caught trout in front of his guests. Much as she disliked appeasing him, flaunting her disdain was far worse.

  When they reached the door to the hall, she raised a hand, whispering a command for her companion to wait outside the door as she perused the people seated in the great hall. Pale auras of color surrounded each man, giving the room a festive look were it not for the unsettling tale each told her. The reds of anger and lust, the brown of dishonesty, gray and sulphur of dark thoughts and pain. From long practice, she ignored the pale green of pity she knew were aimed at her.

  Skirting the red auras, Katja moved silently into the room, attracting no attention. Years of avoiding her father gave her the skill to move about the castle like a ghost, finding tremendous value in being invisible when the need called for it. It wasn’t until she stood near the foot of the lower tables that anyone noticed her. Laird Sinclair’s eyes gleamed.

  “Ah, here is my daughter. Katja, meet the new MacGerry Laird.”

  * * *

  Calder glanced at the young woman who’d entered the room as silent as a ghost. Though the Sinclair men did not stand in respect at her introduction, Calder, Finn and the rest of the MacGerry men rose immediately from their seats. She offered a small curtsy, her gaze dropping to the floor, seeming uncomfortable with the attention.

  Calder stood stricken as if struck by a smithy’s hammer. He could do nothing but stare at the lass in front of him who’d haunted his thoughts and dreams for so long. To his amazement, she appeared even more beautiful than he remembered. Grey. Her eyes were grey, n
ot the dark blue he imagined. If he’d been told she was an angel come to earth he would not have doubted the claim for a moment.

  Finn tugged on his sleeve and inclined his head toward the girl. Calder retrieved enough of his wits to speak. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Lady Katja.”

  * * *

  The sight of a young man instead of the old laird she expected startled Katja. Tall, lean of muscle with dark brown hair and fair skin, his deep blue eyes were the color of sapphires or perhaps the ocean on a calm day. A high forehead, strong jaw and full lips made for a very handsome face. Lips which curved into a kind smile at her.

  His eager blue eyes stared at her, as if caught in a pleasant dream. Katja’s stomach twisted in a way she’d not experienced before. Heat scorched its way from her head to her shoulders, tingling along her breasts and descending lower. She didn’t recognize or understand the strange awareness. Her breathing picked up its pace as her heart beat tripled. How could one look from a man inspire such a reaction?

  She averted her gaze in an effort to wrestle her body and emotions under control. Inhaling deeply, she raised her eyes again only to find the same sensations slamming into her anew. She needed a distraction.

  Use the sight. It doesnae lie.

  Looking past her normal ability to see, she glanced first at her father. The darkening gray aura surrounding him reflected his greed, his nature growing more corrupt with time. A band of deep brown layered on top of the gray was new today. She knew it as a sign of deceit and wondered what he was up to. Scanning the rest of the table, the light blue surrounding her brothers Bjorn, Christer and Patrik reflected confusion. Whatever her father contrived with the MacGerry, they knew nothing of it.

  Yellow surrounded MacGerry’s older companion, apparently happy about the circumstances of this meeting. Finally, looking upon the man introduced to her as Calder MacGerry, he seemed awash with color. He wrestled with strong emotions, the red of lust mixing with the yellow of happiness. Dark blue rode over the top of all, the fear of speaking the truth. Suspicion flowed through her as she considered what MacGerry might be hiding. Her father addressed her again, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Daughter, have chambers prepared for our guests. See to it all their needs are met. They will experience the fullness of our hospitality whilst here.” Sinclair sent Calder a sly smile.

  Calder’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback at her father’s words. “Many thanks for your hospitality, Laird, but after this fine meal we will have no needs beyond a bed this eve.”

  Mortification filled Katja at her sire’s brazen suggestion, pulling her back to the purpose for which she’d been summoned. It was bad enough he kept serving women around who openly flaunted their favors toward anything male. To make her responsible for having these women brought to his guests proved more than her temper could bear.

  Grateful their guest rescued her from further humiliation, she exited the room quickly, daring her sire to rebuke her abruptness. As Katja crossed the doorway, Freki rose, following close behind. She made the necessary arrangements with the housekeeper, then headed for the respite of her bedchamber.

  She slammed the door and threw the bolt as soon as she and Freki entered the room. Her father was clearly up to some deception. No matter his generous words, his brown aura said everything she needed to know, guaranteeing he would try to trick the MacGerry in some manner despite his seemingly warm hospitality. Though the MacGerrys and Sinclairs had been bitter enemies longer than she could remember, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for them. Even the MacGerrys deserved better than betrayal at the hands of her father.

  After tonight’s encounter, she vowed to avoid her sire more than ever. Unsettled by her reaction to the new MacGerry laird, it was best to stay away until they concluded their business. She wasn’t sure she could stomach watching whatever duplicity her father planned, and she didn’t want their visitors to think she played any part in the treachery.

  Chapter 2

  After consuming a better meal than Calder could remember—perhaps ever—pleasant conversation followed as they retired to chairs before the hearth. The sweet smell of rowan burning filled the hall instead of the peppery scent of peat to which Calder was accustomed. Over spiced wine they spoke of news of the area, naming allies and enemies, drawing their informal meeting into the late hours of the night.

  At last, Laird Sinclair rose from his chair, indicating the evening was at an end. “Follow the maids to yer chambers,” he said with a wave to a couple of serving girls in the hall.

  Sinclair tilted his head, a half-smile stretching his lips, his hands spread before him in a placating manner, though the look was disconcertingly predatory instead of reassuring. “Because of our history together, I have placed two guards in the hall for yer protection more than to keep ye confined. We shall commence negotiations after we break our fast on the morrow. I bid you good sleep.”

  The man strode from the hall, leaving the MacGerrys to follow the two maids to their respective rooms.

  Both women made unspoken offers of companionship by briefly touching and brushing against the MacGerry men. With a subtle hand gesture, Calder warned the others they wouldn’t be enjoying female company this eve. After the chambers were issued, several men gathered in Calder’s room.

  “All appears as we hoped thus far. Sinclair’s a good host and seems honest in his desire for a truce,” Finn said.

  Calder reclined in a chair in front of the small hearth, musing the evening’s events. “Aye. I detect no deceit in his words or actions, albeit ’tis troubling and something tells me all is not as it seems. However, we’ve yet to hear his terms. Seek yer beds. We need our wits about us on the morrow.”

  Finn gave him an odd look once the room cleared. “Is there something you need to tell me aboot the lass?”

  Calder pushed deeper into the chair, considering how much to reveal to his shrewd uncle. “I saw her a long time ago and have been bewitched by her since. Once I found out she was Sinclair’s daughter, I tried to forget about her. I hadnae laid eyes on her again until tonight.”

  Finn smiled. “Will the lass be a distraction? Sinclair certainly noticed yer reaction to her.”

  “Nae. I will not allow it to affect the reason we are here,” Calder declared with more conviction than he felt.

  Finn touched a knuckle to his forehead as he rose. “Good sleep, laird.”

  Calder returned his uncle’s nod, his mind already on other things as the door latched shut. Sitting before the small fire in his chamber, Calder took a drink of wine and glanced toward the bed. If he turned in early, he would have a good five hours of slumber. But sleep proved to be elusive. Thoughts of the beautiful Katja Sinclair overrode any possibility of a restful night.

  The next morn, they met for a meal of hot oat porridge, honey, cream and fruit. The smell of baking bread filled the hall, causing even a full stomach to growl at the prospect of another well-cooked meal. The earl rose from his seat, drawing Calder’s attention.

  “Let us discuss our future.” He opened the door to his solar through the wall behind the high table. The room contained more of the rich furnishings they’d seen throughout the castle. An ornate desk stood in one corner while a table with cushioned chairs around it sat to one side. As everyone settled, Sinclair began. “My sources say ye will have a difficult winter.”

  Calder shot Finn a glance and scooted forward in his chair, wary of the direction of the conversation. In spite of his hope for peace, something about this man pricked at Calder. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts. It had kept him alive more than once in the past.

  The Sinclair cocked his head. “Easy, lads. I mean no disrespect. Is this not the truth?” He raised his hands in mock surrender.

  Calder eyed their host.

  Sinclair’s black wool tunic with silver embroidery was made of the finest wool. The cost of the man’s garments would feed the MacGerry clan for a month.

  With a curt nod, Calder admitted to the u
nfortunate circumstance.

  Sinclair seemed satisfied with the response and he clasped his hands before him on the desk. His eyes glittered as he turned his attention to Calder alone.

  “I believe I have a solution to our mutual problem. My sources also tell me ye are unwed, Laird MacGerry.”

  Again, Calder nodded his assent, his unease growing.

  “I noticed yer…interest in my daughter last eve.”

  Calder looked Sinclair in the eye, his gaze narrowing. A chill skittered across the back of his neck as if the cold unearthly breath of a Sìth touched him.

  “I have had a devil of a time marrying her off. When we draw up a treaty between our clans, ye must agree to wed my daughter. Marriage will strengthen our accord, and finally put an end to the raiding.”

  Calder’s eyes widened, stunned by the demand. He couldn’t have heard him correctly. “I dinnae understand. She is a beautiful woman. Why is she not married already? She is of marrying age?”

  “Aye, she is, but she refuses any match I make for her. I grow weary of trying to please her. Her reaction to ye last night was the closest I’ve seen to acceptance. She comes with a large tocher. ’Twill give yer clan the coin ye need and a sizeable tract of dower lands. The two davochs lie on your northwest border and the crofts with them. The people tending them will move elsewhere.”

  Calder sat speechless. He knew the area, as they’d raided there more than once. So much land along with gold—all for marrying the man’s daughter? Unable to make sense of what Sinclair placed on the table before him, he remained silent. He glanced at his uncle. Finn twisted his neck until it popped, fidgeting in his chair. Something didn’t feel right. It was too rich an offer.

  Finn recovered his voice first. “Aye, we are familiar with that bit of land. ’Tis verra fertile, verra fine. Why would ye wish to part with it?”