Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Halvard caught the lass before she hit the ground.
Lady Elsie Montgomery was what she had called herself in the complete jumble of words she had spewed at him before she passed out cold.
One moment she had been glaring at him, challenging him.
Fire flashed behind her emerald eyes, and the next her knees gave way and she folded like linen on a wind-swept day.
He pulled her against his chest. She was light as a feather, and her fingers were cold, too cold. He could feel their ice even through his gloves.
“Easy lass,” he murmured in her ear. “Ye’re safe. Ye’ve done enough fer one day.”
Her head rolled against his shoulder, a loose strand of golden-brown hair brushed against his jaw and he used every ounce of power in his being to ignore the sudden spark that fired through him. She was English, unconscious, and very likely more trouble that he knew what to do with.
He carried her away from the bodies of the men who had tried to take her as they lay in the heather.
The air stung with iron and smoke, and the wind was sharp and biting.
He laid her down gently on a patch of grass, brushing the dirt from her cheek with his thumb before catching himself in the intimate moment and pulling his hand back quickly as if her skin were flame.
She’s a stranger, MacLeod, and an English lady.
He had no wish to entangle himself further with the lass. No matter how intriguing he seemed to find her.
Behind him Sten gave a low whistle. “Well, that was a lively distraction on the ride home,” he said. “Next time will ye let me get a shot in as well, laird?”
Halvard straightened snapping himself back into the moment at hand. “We cannae leave th’ lass here.”
“Nay, but what d’ye plan tae dae wi’ her?”
“She’d nay last th’ hour.”
“Then we’re takin’ her wi’ us?” Sten cocked an eyebrow and Halvard knew the man knew better than to make a comment.
“Aye, we’ll see her safe, at least.” He knelt beside Elsie again, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. “Find water, will ye? There should be some in th’ flask on me beast.”
As his second went to fetch the water, Halvard studied the lass’s face.
Lady Elsie Montgomery. The name meant nothing to him.
He barely kept up with the various titled English on his side of the border, let alone those in England.
Being Laird on Rasaay gave him somewhat of a detachment from the politics of London and the crown. Except for what waited for him at home.
Her face, though, that was a whole separate issue.
Her face did something odd to his chest. There was strength there.
She had a stubborn set to her mouth and a faint crease between her brows, one that suggested she liked to think.
She wasn’t the pampered delicate sort he would have expected from her educated accent.
He had seen warriors in battle with less fight than she had shown this day.
It didn’t matter anyway, he thought as he dragged his gaze from her and scanned the road ahead.
The Highlands. His home and his heart, where wild and empty hills rolled toward a gray horizon.
Somewhere beyond Brochel Castle waited for him, as it always had, yet today it held visitors.
That blasted royal envoy and their damned marriage contract. His stomach dropped.
Halvard had dreaded each passing mile on his way back to his home. The idea of taking a wife, not of his choosing struck him deeper than any open wound. But he was bound by duty. Duty, always duty.
“Found it,” Sten called tossing Halvard the flask of water. “If her breathin’ is fine, want me tae bring ‘round the horses?”
“Aye.” Halvard uncorked the flask and poured some of the cool water over a piece of cloth, before gently pressing it to her temple.
She flinched and a small moan escaped her lips. Encouraged, he continued touching the damp cloth to her cheek, then the line of her throat where her pulse beat strong. Her lashes fluttered.
“Come on, lass,” he whispered. “Time tae come back tae th’ world.”
She let out another soft groan, then her green eyes opened, dazed and slightly unfocused, but present. She blinked up at him, then frowned. “You again,” she chuffed.
Halvard couldn’t help it, he let out a grin. “Aye, still me, and ye’re safe, though ye gave me man over there quite the fright.” He pointed to Sten, who shrugged, not sure why he was being discussed.
“I don’t faint,” she whispered weakly.
“Ye just did, lass.”
“Doesn’t count.” She tried to lift herself from the ground, winced and dropped back down leaning on his arm.
“Ye were struck on th’ head, lass,” his tone softened. “Ye should rest a bit.”
Her eyes drifted over to the men lying dead in the field. “You killed them,” she said the same thing again. “For me?”
“They left me nay choice.” He did not feel bad about the outcome of the battle with the men.
They were lower than the dirt on his boots, but he did suddenly wish that he could take that memory from her.
She was a lady after all. Halvard hardly thought she would be used to such bloodshed and violence.
“I suppose I owe you a debt of thanks,” she said. “Though I’m not entirely certain how to thank you, for…um, would it be called homicide?”
Halvard had never met a woman quite like Elsie and could not help but smile at her description of how he had saved her. Rare as it was even to his own ears. “Nay thanks needed, lass, we dae our best tae stay alive.”
Sten walked up with the horses. “She’ll manage, then?” he asked handing Halvard another flask of water.
“Aye.” Halvard rose, watching Elsie’s attempt to keep her pride intact by straightening her skirts. She was a brave lass, even half-conscious and in pain. “We’ll head tae Brochel. Let the lass rest and regain herself. Then we’ll figure out th’ rest.”
Sten gave him a questioning look. “And the king’s envoy?”
Halvard cursed. He had almost forgotten, for a few blessed moments. “Aye,” he said grimly. “We’ll have tae think of somethin’”
“Ye ken,” Sten leaned in lowering his voice. “Ye could tell them ye’ve already taken a bride. Would be nay point in them stickin’ round after that.”
Halvard gave his friend a pointed look to which Sten shrugged.
“I’m only makin’ a suggestion. Claim th’ English lass as yers and the envoy’ll have nay choice. Nay man, nae even th’ English, would question a Highland marriage.”
Halvard had a slick retort on his tongue when the thought took hold. What if one simple lie could rid him of the leash of the English crown?
He looked at Elsie again. The proud jut of her jaw.
She was bruised and dirty, yet she was not beaten.
The woman had fought to save herself. She had clawed and kicked her captors rather than submit to an uncertain fate.
She was trouble, there was no doubt in his mind.
Every inch of her was treacherous, but she was also freedom.
“Me laird?” Sten questioned. “Ye’re starin’ at th’ lass.”
“I’m thinkin,” he blinked and turned away. “Dinnae pretend tae ken what I’m about.”
Sten smirked. “Too late. Shall I tell th’ lads ye finally met yer match in a woman who can out argue ye?”
Halvard snorted and ignored his friend, walking over to Elsie, he could not help but notice the wariness in her gaze.
“Can ye ride, lass?”
“I think so,” she replied, though he could hear the waver in her voice.
“Good,” he said, curtly. “Then we’ll leave this place.” Her offered her a hand, and she took it with a slight hesitation.
“Will you be taking me home?” The expectation in her eyes was enough to almost break him.
“Nae yet, lass,” he responded softly. “But once we get ye settled and well, we can discuss th’ best way tae get ye where ye need tae be, ye’ve me word.”
“I miss my sister,” Elsie said. “She must be sick with worry, and I’m afraid for myself here.”
“Ye’ve naught tae fear from me, or anyone else, now,” he added softly. “I’ll see tae it.”
She studied his face. The intensity of her gaze made him uncomfortable. Something he did not recognize flickered across her gaze. “You are a very interesting man, my lord.”
“Aye,” he replied. “And that’s th’ least of me sins.”
He helped her onto the horse and settled her in front of him. The dangerous idea refused to dissipate.
If I claim her, the envoy can dae naething. The Crown will be powerless and maybe, I’ll be able tae choose me own fate.
The whole idea of it was madness. He knew nothing about the lass. He knew nothing of how she would respond to such a daft, insane idea. Yet as the wind caught her hair and she glanced back at him with her fierce green eyes, Halvard suspected that madness might be exactly what he needed.
It was evening when they finally reached the ridge, the wind still cutting in sharply from the sea.
Halvard guided his stallion to a stop. Elsie had been quiet for most of the ride, and still.
He could feel the tension flowing off her, she was coiled tightly as a snake, wary.
It was as if she feared the next moment might be her undoing.
When she finally spoke her voice was quiet, as if the fight she’d shown him before had worn her out. “What happens now, my laird?”
He hated how formal her tone was. Her fire dimmed by uncertainty. He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Now,” he said slowly, “ye’ll be me wife.”
She turned her head so sharply he nearly lost the reins.
“I beg your pardon?”
He met her green gaze head on. “Ye heard me well enough, me lady.”
“That betrothal wasn’t real,” she replied, incredulous. “A ridiculous, desperate attempt to free myself. There was a knife held to my ribs for heaven’s sake. You cannot expect me to actually marry you?”
He smiled. “Aye, I remember the knife, lass. Still ye said th’ words.”
“I was afraid for my life!”
“Then ye were being honest wi’ yer answer,” he shrugged. “Ye chose me over yer imminent death. If ye ask me there’s no greater vow.”
Elsie stared at him, her head twisted, her mouth ajar. “You cannot be serious.”
“I can,” he admitted. “And I am.”
She made a sound that Halvard thought was almost laughter but in a mad, maniacal gasp. “You are mad.”
“Ye might be surprised, but I’ve been told that before,” he tilted his head.
She looked away, muttering what he was sure was a very unladylike curse under her breath. “I don’t even know you.”
“Aye,” he admitted, deciding to explain further, and not keep the lass in wonder. “But I dinnae mean tae keep ye, lass. I mean tae see ye safe back tae England. If…”
She could not keep her curiosity at bay. “If?”
“If ye dae one thing fer me first.”
“Marry you.”
“Pretend tae be me wife,” he clarified. “Fer a short time.”
“You cannot be serious.” Her jaw dropped.
“Oh, lass, but I am,” he explained. “Ye see, there’s a royal envoy waitin’ at me hall. They’ve been sent tae tie me tae another English woman. I’ve nae wish tae wed, at least nae fer true. If I arrive after bein’ away already wi’ a wife, the matter will die a quiet death.”
She blinked at him. “So, you are trying to avoid an unwanted marriage with an unwanted marriage?”
“Aye,” he shrugged. “But once the envoy leaves, I will send ye on yer way, wi’ coin and an escort back tae yer sister in England, if that’s what ye want.”
She stared at him in silence for a long moment, the wind playing with the loose strands of her hair. Her eyes bright with not only disbelief but also something similar to rage.
“You truly are out of your mind.”
“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “But it’ll keep ye alive, and it’ll keep me from refusin’ th’ Crown and havin’ a noose around me neck. Seems fair.”
“You cannot possibly think that anyone would believe that I married you of my own free will?”
He gave her a sidelong glance with humor in his eyes. “After watchin’ ye kick a man double yer size intae th’ mud, lass, I’d say marryin’ me would nae be too far-fetched fer those we ken ye tae believe.”
Her lips twitched into a smile that she could not seem to help. “You are quite impossible.”
“Aye,” he nodded, nudging the horse to move again. “But I keep me word. So, Lady Elsie Montgomery of Hertfordshire, what dae ye say? Shall we make the world and the Crown believe ye are Lady MacLeod?”
She let out a deep sigh. “I don’t see where I have much choice.”
“Nae a choice worth takin’” He smiled.