A Wife for the Ruthless Highlander (The Highland’s Lawson Sisters #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

“There she is, lads! Ain’t she bonnie?” Arthur yelled to his men.

A cheer rose all around him, echoing off into the distance as it traveled through the lines of his soldiers. He tugged on his stallion’s reins, guiding it over to the side as his men filed past him, making their way toward the castle gates.

Horses whinnied, and the sounds of their hooves echoed around him, but Arthur couldn’t stop the pride rising within him as he watched them head toward their home.

“Five years is a long time, Braither,” a voice sounded directly beside him.

Arthur whirled. His younger brother, Joseph, sat atop his horse. The din of their clansmen had drowned out the sound of his brother’s approach.

“Aye,” Arthur grunted, his gaze returning to his men. “It’s especially a long time when ye dinnae ken if ye’ll live to see another day.”

Joseph nodded pensively before the pair fell into companionable silence.

It had been like that between the two of them ever since Joseph had shown up at Castle Reid at the age of fifteen. He’d been just a lad back then. But he’d pieced together that Arthur’s father was his own, and he’d come to tell the Barkley family the truth.

Arthur, who had been more than aware of his father’s dalliances growing up, had only needed to look at Joseph to realize the truth of his lineage. The Barkley features were plain on his face, and he’d welcomed his brother with open arms.

He knew that had been the only reason his younger brother had agreed to come live in the castle. It was also what drove Joseph to follow him into battle when their clan went to war all those years ago.

I’ll thank God every day that he made it out alive.

With a sigh, Arthur kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and guided it into the line of men that were headed toward the gate. He knew without looking that Joseph had done the same.

They moved with the tides of soldiers, riding under the gate and into the castle courtyard. It was a flurry of activity, and still, Arthur could not stop his eyes from going wide.

“Nae much has changed,” Joseph mused, eliciting a grunt from his brother.

“I cannae believe we’re back after all this time,” Arthur responded.

“I cannae believe we made it back at all.”

The words hung heavy in the air as stablehands rushed forward, holding the reins of their horses while they dismounted.

Word had been sent about a week before their arrival, alerting the castle that the war was over and the men would be coming home. Women lined the walls of the courtyard, faces lit with hope as their eyes scanned the crowd for their men.

One woman’s gaze landed on someone, and Arthur watched as her face contorted with a joyful sob. She rushed forward, braving the throngs of massive horses before throwing herself at the feet of one of his men.

“Nae everyone made it back,” Arthur reminded his brother solemnly.

He thanked the stablehand before striding toward the castle doors. He wanted to throw a feast tonight, to open the doors wide and allow their entire clan to celebrate this time of peace, and to also mourn those they had lost.

Opening the door, he readied himself to speak to his head maid, but as soon as he stepped across the threshold, he was brought up short.

Five men stood shoulder to shoulder at the entrance to the castle. Immediately, Arthur’s mood turned sour.

“Have ye come to welcome yer Laird home?” he hissed.

The councilmen stood there, their eyes roving over him. Arthur knew what they wanted—they wanted him to squirm.

The councilmen had always been like this. They hadn’t enjoyed his father’s antics, and they’d been less than enthusiastic to embrace Arthur himself as Laird when his father had died.

But what he was experiencing now was a step beyond what he’d seen from them before. While he knew they resented his reign, they had never been outright hostile. Instead, the councilmen had opted to tolerate him.

But now they sneered at him, each one looking down their noses at him. Ice-cold fury shot through him.

“I asked ye a question,” he seethed.

Councilman Shaw, who stood directly in the center, shifted his weight from foot to foot. But it was not he who spoke. It was the councilman to the far right, Councilman McKellen, who took a step forward.

“Welcome home, Laird Reid,” McKellen sneered.

Arthur stared at him, forcing steel into his gaze. His father, flawed as he may have been, had taught him better than that.

Footsteps sounded behind him, followed by Joseph’s voice.

“Do ye think they’ll start preparin’ the feast?”

His question echoed through the atrium, but he heard his brother stop short. The tail end of his question trailed off, dying out before the final word had fully formed as he spotted the councilmen.

“What a warm welcome,” Joseph mused.

Arthur could feel his brother’s eyes on him. But, as he still did not know entirely what was happening, he had no words to offer him.

“We were just welcomin’ yer braither home,” Councilman McKellen said, his voice more curt as he addressed Joseph. “And we wished to inquire about when we would get to meet yer new bride?”

Arthur stared at the men, refusing to allow any of his confusion to seep through.

What are they yappin’ about?

To his credit, Joseph also remained silent at his side, the pair staring down the men before them as a unified front.

Councilman Shaw sighed, clearly wanting nothing more than for this conversation to end.

“We’ve heard about yer bride,” he explained, glaring at Councilman McKellen. “And, as ye ken what occurred with yer faither, we dinnae want the same reputation to tarnish the clan.”

Immediately, the councilmen’s eyes flicked to Joseph. If Arthur had thought he was angry before, it was nothing compared to the icy rage running through his veins now.

A low, menacing growl sounded in the back of his throat as he advanced on the councilman. Straightening to his full height, he towered over McKellen—towered over all of them.

“I willnae be spoken to like that in me own home,” he hissed, allowing all of his fury to seep into his words.

“I willnae be questioned by the likes of ye. Nae when I’ve just returned home after fightin’ a war for our clan.

I’ve risked me life every day for five years, and this is the thanks I get? ”

McKellen eyed him, a gesture filled with insolence. Arthur had every desire to pummel the man, but he restrained himself.

“One week.” McKellen said the words as if it was a foregone conclusion. “We would like to meet yer bride nay later than one week from today. We understand ye’ve just returned home and need to get settled. That should be more than enough time.”

“Ye will meet me bride when I want ye to meet her,” Arthur retorted.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and he glanced back to find his brother standing there, shaking his head.

And his brother was asking him to stop.

“We will meet yer bride within the week.” McKellen’s voice drew Arthur’s attention once more, and Arthur’s eyes snapped back to him. “We willnae have a laird like yer faither. Our clan cannae abide by that again.”

Hot as fire, anger rose within Arthur all over again. He had been about to step back, about to let everything die out. But not now.

He stepped forward, glaring down at the men before him.

“Ye dare threaten me,” he growled, clenching his fists at his sides. “I fight for ye for five years—fight for yer families to remain safe, riskin’ me life every single day—and this is how ye repay me?”

He was almost chest to chest with McKellen, and for the very first time since Arthur had entered the castle, the councilmen who stood before him looked unsure.

“Ye think ye have the right to come in here and threaten what is mine by blood?”

Despite the uncertainty flickering across McKellen’s face, he still glared up at Arthur. For a moment, Arthur wondered what the repercussions would be if he refused to let them meet his bride. Or rather, the bride they thought he had.

But he would have to figure out one thing at a time. The first thing he needed to do was remove the council from his home so he could figure out what was going on.

“We are the council of this clan,” McKellen threatened. But despite his attempt at a menacing stance, his voice still shook. “We will protect our people from every threat, including that of a philanderin’ laird.”

Anger surged through Arthur, and his fists clenched so hard he felt his nails digging into his palms.

I wonder how fast the others could move if I ran McKellen through with the sword still strapped to me side.