The Highlander's Bride Read online

  He squeezed her hand, his eyes pleading. “At least I will know you are safe, far from war. You would not deny your father that comfort, would you?”

  Her cousin entered the solar, no doubt interested to see if he was closer to inheriting the duchy. Her father dropped her hand. The conversation was over. Colette curtsied and quit the room, still shaking from the sudden news.

  Her father wished to keep her safe, but she would not flee before their enemies. No, it was time to be brave.

  She, marry a barbaric Highlander?

  No.

  Never.

  Two

  It had been a long day. Gavin sent the duke back to safety with his men and continued to help others escape the English horde. Though the English had been turned and their advance halted, it had not been without cost. Many French troops lay where they fell, never to rise again. As the grim task began of picking through the bloody aftermath to claim their dead, Gavin bent his head to pray for the departed in battle.

  Gavin’s reasons for traveling to France from Scotland to fight against the English were a tangled web of desires and obligations. His personal quest had been unsuccessful, though he’d known he had little chance of success from the start. Perhaps it was time to travel home to the Highlands and set his eyes on his mother again.

  Though his adventure had not brought the riches that were the dream of every young man, he had been knighted on the field of battle and was still in possession of his arms and legs. He shook his head, surveying the carnage before him. He could still draw breath, and that was fortune enough.

  Sir Gavin rode toward the castle of the duc de Bergerac, nestled comfortably in a bright green valley. The castle boasted four towers and was painted a gleaming white with golden trim. It was an enchanting sight, awash in the warm light of the setting sun.

  Gavin was greeted at the gates and shown into an elegant chamber to wash and prepare himself for the feast, already well under way. Faint strains of music floated through the castle corridors. Gavin was squired by one of the pages, who assisted him out of his armor and brought him a borrowed but fine surcoat of the bluest silk. It did not quite fit Gavin’s broad shoulders, but the page shrugged and said it was the biggest he could find. Gavin struggled into it. He sometimes felt a bit of a giant, being taller and broader than most men he met in France.

  Thus civilized, Gavin was led into the great hall. He had thought himself immune to the wealth and opulence displayed by the French nobles, but this hall was beyond any he had yet seen. Painted in bright colors, accented in gold leaf, the walls were ablaze with grand scenes of glorious battles. Tapestries hung from the walls, awash in bright gold thread, such that they shimmered in the candlelight. The hall was filled with tables of elegantly attired courtiers, who were only diminished by the nobility’s resplendent display at the high table. Never had Gavin been presented with such an array of rich fabrics, rich food, and rich people. All were feasting and making merry.

  Gavin had been pondering the meaning of Bergerac’s words regarding a generous reward. He would have settled for a balance in coin instead of the lavish spread before him. Gavin surveyed the scene with mild disapproval. The countryside of France was being ravaged, the common people suffering, yet the nobles continued to feast. If the amount of coin spent on daily excess was put into the war effort, France might not have been losing so badly. If half of those finely dressed lords would trade their robes and ridiculously pointed shoes for a sword and harness, maybe the outcome would be different.

  He drew closer to the high table and a lady caught his eye. In truth, he stopped walking and gaped at her like some green lad. She was simply the loveliest lady he had ever seen. She was draped in finery like all around her, but she needed none. Her beauty shone without need of adornment. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her eyes the stunning green of a new leaf. Her lips were full and rosy. She was richly adorned in gold and silk, with an elaborate headdress, yet it was her bright eyes that captured his attention.

  She turned her head slightly and caught his openmouthed stare. She raised a thin, dark eyebrow, looking down her perfectly proportioned nose at him. He flushed at being caught gaping and forced his feet to continue moving forward. He cursed under his breath for making a fool of himself before such a beauty.

  Bergerac noted Gavin’s arrival into the hall and graced him with a smile. He stood, goblet in hand, and all the courtiers stood with him, silencing their conversations in honor of the duke. “Come, mes amis, let us drink to the health of the honorable knight who saved me from falling into the hands of our enemy. He has come from the wilds of Scotland to help us to remain free from English tyranny.”

  The young lady’s face revealed a moment of surprise or alarm, her eyes opening wide, but she quickly achieved a look of utter implacability once again. The crowd raised their glasses and drank deeply of fine wine. The young lady held out her glass and drank but did not raise it to him as the others had. Her face remained impassive, utterly unimpressed by his feats of heroism. Gavin had never considered himself a vain man, seeking the good opinion of others, but he was disappointed he had not been able to impress the beauty before him.

  He was led in honor by a page to the high table, to sit beside the duke. A rich noble was asked to move aside and gave Gavin a look of sheer vitriol, but Gavin took it in stride. The only disappointment to his placement at the table was that the lovely lady was seated on the other side of Bergerac, making conversation with her impossible, though the coldness in her eyes had in no way invited his attentions. It would be best to forget such a creature, but he would have enjoyed the view, gazing at her during the feast. Such a thing of beauty must be enjoyed.

  The feast went on for hours, long past the hour when Gavin’s sore muscles would have enjoyed some rest. He wondered at Bergerac’s endurance, though by the amounts of wine he consumed, his vigor was definitely enhanced by the numbing effects of his chosen libation.

  Eventually, the celebration waned and the duke ushered him aside to a richly appointed chamber, even finer than the great hall, if such a thing could be believed. The furniture was ornately carved and gilded with gold leaf. Everywhere Gavin looked, he was dazzled.

  “Sir Gavin, you are a true knight, brave and sure,” Bergerac declared. Though Gavin was fluent in French, the duke spoke to him in English, a tribute of respect. “Your bold action saved my life on the field of battle. You must allow me to bestow upon you a boon to show my gratitude, though I know that nothing I can ever do will repay you. I shall forever be in your debt.”

  Gavin bowed and came up smiling. Now he was getting to the important part of the evening. “Yer graciousness to this humble knight is more than enough thanks.” Though if the duke was prepared to offer him something golden in return for saving his life, Gavin would be most pleased. He swept his gaze from the golden candelabra to the golden chalice on the table. Either would do. Both would be better.

  “As a true knight, you would never accept a monetary offering and I would never impinge upon your honor by making such a gauche offer,” continued the duke.

  Gavin’s smile tightened. Go on, insult me wi’ yer riches.

  “To demonstrate the full measure of my appreciation, I present to you my daughter and only child, Lady Marie Colette.”

  On perfect cue, the beautiful lady from the feast entered the room. Lady Marie Colette possessed the most shocking beauty the world had ever known. Gavin’s mouth went dry as he glanced from his host to his daughter—the renowned beauty Marie Colette.

  The rumors of her pleasing appearance did not disappoint. She was exquisite. Her bright green eyes captured him, a stark contrast to her pale skin and rose-petal lips. Her high cheekbones and delicately carved features were a delight to behold. Her figure, complemented by the blue silk gown of the finest quality, was a study in perfection of the female form. The gown itself was richly adorned with a brocade surcoat with so much gold t
hread embroidery it must have weighed at least two stone. He could not tell the color of her hair, for the golden headdress covered it entirely, yet still revealed a fashionably high forehead.

  Gavin had no particular interest in marriage, but one look at Marie Colette and all objections to the marital state vanished. The lady inclined her head and Gavin swept her a bow, hoping to impress.

  “My daughter, she is lovely, no?”

  “Aye, Yer Grace, quite lovely,” answered Gavin, his eyes only for Marie Colette. His smile was not returned and instead something akin to panic shone in her eyes, though the rest of her face betrayed no emotion.

  “Can I call upon your honor as a knight to protect my daughter no matter the cost?” asked Bergerac.

  “I would protect her wi’ my verra life,” answered Gavin. For such a prize, he would do anything; surely any man who could draw breath would do the same.

  “Excellent! You will guide her to the Highlands, yes?”

  The Highlands. Home. Bergerac wished Gavin to wed his daughter and take her to Scotland? Gavin was surprised, but the duke must wish his daughter to be safe, away from the war that ravaged the land. He did not have to consider his answer.

  “Aye,” said Gavin. “I will do as ye wish.”

  “You, sir, are indeed the very model of a true knight.” Bergerac nodded in approval. “I will bring the necessary documents to you.” The duke left the chamber with a wide smile.

  Gavin was left alone with the lady he would marry. She was like a perfect statue, beautiful and poised. Yet as soon as her father left the room, the veneer of detachment fell and her eyes narrowed in shrewd intelligence. She approached fast and spoke low.

  “How much for you not to marry me?” Her voice was lower than Gavin expected, sultry and rippling with promise. And yet…what did she mean, not to marry her?

  He must have paused too long in his reply for she repeated herself, this time in English though with a seductive French accent. “How much coin for you to wed me not?”

  Gavin was surprised she could speak in his tongue. He was even more surprised at her request. This Lady Marie Colette was no statue to be admired from afar. This Lady Marie Colette was fierce and bold, and all the more beautiful. He took a step back. “I…I beg yer pardon?”

  “You have had dealings with my father; now you will have dealings with me. He has offered you much, no? I have in my power the ability to make you a very rich man. I ask you again, how much to not marry me?”

  Three

  Colette had one chance. She needed to secure the Highlander’s agreement to decline marrying her, and she needed to do it quickly, before her father returned. She had never before defied her father, but if he thought he could protect her by sending her far away, to Scotland of all places, he was much confused. She would stand by her father and her people, no matter how many English soldiers were at the door.

  “Ye dinna wish to marry me?” Sir Gavin seemed confused regarding the basic facts.

  “No, I do not,” said Colette in a deliberate tone, speaking her best English so he could comprehend. She hoped he was not entirely feebleminded.

  In truth, he was a fine specimen of a man. She was fair enough to admit it. He was a young man and built on a large scale, towering over most men. He had broad shoulders and a muscular chest, well-defined beneath the formfitting surcoat. His dark brown hair hung down to his square jaw and had a bit of a thick wave to it. He was clean shaven, a surprise considering he was a barbaric Highlander.

  “I have heard rumors o’ yer beauty, but they were untrue. Ye’re more lovely than anything I heard described.” He spoke in a rich tone with a lyrical accent, pleasing to her ears.

  She almost wished he would speak more so she could listen to his voice. However, if he thought he could win her over with compliments, he was much mistaken. She had been told so often she was beautiful that the words no longer had meaning. Moreover, she found the people who flattered her often wanted something from her. Some wanted money, others her favor, and others, men primarily, wanted to possess her, as if she were nothing more than an attractive object to decorate their surroundings and warm their beds.

  “Please understand. It is impossible for me to marry you. But if you make an arrangement with me now, you will not leave empty-handed. Name your weight in gold to walk away.” Her heard pounded to make such a blunt offer. Her maids, had they been present, would have collapsed of apoplexy to hear her, but Colette was determined. She would not leave her home. She knew these foreign fighters were primarily interested in fortune, so she offered him riches to get him out of the way as quick as may be.

  Gavin’s eyebrows rose, and she feared she had offended him. In truth, she would never have made such a crass offer to a French knight, whose honor would have been greatly impinged, but Sir Gavin was a foreigner. A Highlander. Were they not only here to make a profit off others’ sad circumstances?

  “Forgive me if I have offended ye, m’lady.” Sir Gavin bowed as well as any courtier. “As to yer offer, ye may keep yer riches. Yer wealth is o’ no interest to me.”

  Colette was confused. Why did he refuse? Did he doubt her ability to provide him with ample fortune? She glanced at the door, worried her father would return soon. She was running out of time. “Sir Knight, mayhap you are not aware that my mother, she was very wealthy before she married my father. Her riches are now my own to do with as I like. If you make an agreement with me now, I can make you quite comfortable.”

  He shrugged and walked to the window of leaded glass, looking out onto manicured gardens illuminated in the moonlight. “Ye shame me into confessing I had come today for some hope o’ reward. It does no’ make me a worthy knight, I fear. But even wi’out much honor, I still will no’ take the fortune of a lady, nor would I force anyone to marry me.” He spoke in a careless manner, as if all she had offered him was as nothing to him.

  Colette released a breath she had not realized she was holding. Had he just agreed not to marry her? Would he simply walk away? “So you will tell my father you will not marry me?”

  Gavin turned to her, a smile playing about his lips, which gave Colette the distinct impression he was not taking the situation as seriously as she thought it deserved. “I am yers to command. If ye wish me to leave, I will go.”

  Relief washed over her. She would not be banished to the wilds of Scotland with some strange, albeit attractive, man. “Thank you, Sir Knight. My father, he wished to protect me by sending me far, but I cannot see myself in such a wild, foreign place. We would be most unequally yoked.”

  Gavin leaned a shoulder against the stone wall and stared out the dark window into the night. “The Highlands are a rugged place compared to here, and my home is no’ nearly as grand. ’Tis, in truth, no more than a farmhouse. The green valley around it is good for planting, wi’ dark, rich earth that feels good in a man’s hands. Above are the high peaks o’ the Braes o’ Balquhidder. Carved into the very rock itself is Creag an Tuirc, the tower house o’ Laird MacLaren, my uncle. ’Tis a wild place, but in the evening, when the sun’s rays touch the high peaks, setting them aglow with the fiery light, ’tis so beautiful it robs yer breath. No finely decorated hall or richly appointed chamber could ever compare.”

  Colette opened her mouth but no words came. Who was this man?

  He turned back to her, appraising her finery with a critical eye. “Someday, God willing, I shall take my bride there, a bride who chooses me above all men. We will no’ be surrounded by courtiers or pageantry or fancy clothes or ridiculous pointed shoes.”

  Colette swallowed, heat creeping up the back of her neck. Had he seen the points of her shoes?

  He stepped close to her, moving with a fluid grace that made her heart beat faster. “In the Highlands we dinna have all yer comforts, but what we do have we hold fast and fiercely defend.”

  He was so tall, she had to tilt back her head to see h
im, putting her headdress dangerously out of alignment. “What do you have?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Freedom. We have freedom. No one to order ye about. No one to say what ye can or canna do. Ye can wear what ye wish, eat what ye wish. Ye can ride a horse as long and as fast as ye wish. In the Highlands, m’lady, ye would be free.”

  Free? She stared up at him. He dangled before her the one thing all her riches could never buy. He offered her freedom.

  He leaned nearer and her eyes fell to his lips, which inexplicably appeared soft. She could not help but to lean closer toward the irresistible pull of his inviting lips. He also moved closer, bending down slowly so that their lips drew dangerously close. She breathed in the scent of him, an intoxicating mix of wood smoke, fine wine, and pure man.

  “Here, I have brought the parchment for you to seal our accord.” Her father strode back in the room, fortunately distracted with his scrolls as both Colette and Gavin jumped away from each other.

  The duc de Bergerac spread a scroll out on a table to show them. Colette frowned. It was a marriage contract for her, but Gavin’s name could not be found.

  “This is the accord I have made with Kenneth Mackenzie, Baron of Kintail,” said her father.

  “I beg your pardon, but…” Colette swallowed, trying to gather together her swirling thoughts in order to form speech. “You made an accord with whom?”

  “The Baron of Kintail. Sir Gavin, are you acquainted with him?”

  “I…I ken him by reputation,” said Gavin. The careless smile was gone, replaced by a thin line. He glanced at Marie Colette, one eyebrow raised. They had both made the wrong assumption. He wasn’t meant for Colette at all.

  “We have come to an understanding in the marriage arrangements,” continued her father, directing his comments to Sir Gavin. “The accord has been several months in the making, but it is now settled. He will send troops, for you are well aware of how we are most desperate for reinforcements. In exchange, I have offered my daughter’s hand in marriage along with her dowry.”