Highlander's Virgin Bride

Chapter 1

The dusty mirrorhanging from the wall of Meredith’s chamber needed a good cleaning.

It was a strange thing to be focusing on when she was just about to meet the man she would most likely marry, she thought, but, nevertheless, she raised one hand and swiped it across the cloudy glass, revealing her own pale face and green eyes staring anxiously back at her.

Meredith turned quickly away. She was nervous enough at the thought of meeting the Laird of Millar – or her betrothed, as she supposed she should try to start thinking of him –– she did not need to be reminded of the fact that soon he, too, would be looking upon her face, and deciding whether she was fit to be his betrothed.

Betrothed. The word felt strange on Meredith’s tongue as she whispered it to herself, daring herself to speak aloud the truth she had been hiding from these past few days when she’d gone about her life as usual, almost as if that life were not about to change.

“Are ye ready, Meredith? He’s here!”

The door burst open to admit her younger sister Melissa, her face alight with excitement as she almost danced across the room to where Meredith was standing, willing herself to move.

“Wait ‘til ye see him, Meredith!” Melissa gabbled as she looked critically at her sister, reaching out to straighten the collar of her blouse. “Felix and I hid in the gallery to watch him arrive, and he’s exactly as we imagined him! Exactly!”

Meredith couldn’t help smiling at her sister’s enthusiasm.

“Exactly?” she teased. “So, the Laird of Millar is, indeed, as tall as a bear and with the teeth to match, then? But a bit less hairy, I would hope?”

Melissa grinned back at her, unperturbed.

“He is quite hairy,” she said, thoughtfully. “At least, the hair on his head looked very thick and quite long. I couldnae see the rest for his clothes, more’s the pity!”

Meredith gasped in mock horror and pushed her sister away.

“Ye better nae let Ma and Pa hear ye talking like that,” she said sternly, “Ye’ll have them in an early grave!”

All the same, as she turned back towards the mirror, in a bid to put an end to this inappropriate turn the conversation had taken, she had to admit, her curiosity was piqued.

Her parents were good, decent people. She knew they would never give her hand to a man they knew to be cruel, and yet… and yet everything she’d ever heard about the Laird of Millar spoke to the contrary. He was a warrior. A good one, true –– or so rumor had it –– but also a hard and unforgiving one, who had killed his own father in a murderous rage.

The most dangerous Laird in Scotland was not a man you would want to find yourself on the wrong side of, in other words, and Meredith, who had been fortunate to only have known kindness in the course of her short life, felt her stomach clench with nerves at the prospect of meeting this man. And meeting him with the intention of marrying him, at that.

“If ye dinnae believe me, ye can always come and see for yerself,” Melissa suggested, her hand on the door of the chamber. “Maybe if ye have a quick look at him before ye go down, it’ll help settle yer nerves?”

Meredith considered this proposition thoughtfully. Of course, she would marry the Laird regardless of his appearance or character. Her mind was already made up on that. It was, after all, the only thing her parents had ever asked of her. The only thing she could do to help them out of their present difficulty. So she would marry for love after all, but the love of her family, rather than of her betrothed.

Her parents did not want to sell their lands any more than she wanted to marry this stranger, with his fearsome reputation. But what choice did any of them have?

The Great Hall of the castle that was the only home Meredith had ever known sat at the center of the building, surrounded by a wide gallery, from which it was possible to look down upon the occupants of the hall. Having grown up here, Meredith knew all its secrets, including the one spot in the gallery that was completely hidden from the view of those below.

The gallery was lit only by candles, set at intervals along its length, and it took Meredith’s eyes a few seconds to adjust to the relative gloom. When they did, she risked a glance down at the room below, almost gasping aloud at what she saw.

The man seated before her parents was certainly fearsome –– that much was true. The storytellers who’d passed through the castle had not lied when they’d spoken of his tall stature and muscular form, of the dangerous glint in one black eye, or even of the patch he wore over the other, a lasting reminder of the battle in which he’d lost it.

They had not, however, mentioned how, when you put all of these parts together, the result was, quite simply, the most handsome man Meredith had ever seen. A man who, even in the simple act of raising his whisky to his lips, displayed the kind of muscles that put the sleeves of his jacket under considerable strain.

Meredith’s mind whirled. She had not expected to like this man at all, let alone to like him in the way she already feared she did. But would he like her in return? Her face flushed, and her heart hammering, she stood up, leaving her hiding place in the gallery, and holding her back straight and her head high as she walked quickly towards the stairs that led down to the Great Hall, with a confidence she did not feel.

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

“Did ye have a long way to travel, Me Laird?” Meredith’s mother was saying as Meredith crept silently down the wide staircase, not wanting them to see her too soon. “I believe ye said Millar Castle is a fair way from here?”

“Aye.” His voice was low and rather rough, almost as if he wasn’t used to using it too often, and Meredith could tell by its tone that the speaker would have preferred to have just stopped right there, with no further explanation necessary. Apparently realizing that a one-word answer might not be deemed quite polite, however, the Laird valiantly had another go.

“It is a full day’s ride from here,” he said, “depending on how fast ye travel. I daenae mind the journey, though. It gives me time to think.”

Quite what it was that he needed so much time to think about, however, must forever remain a mystery, for he stopped abruptly, as if he’d reached the limit of the polite conversation available to him.

“And ye made the journey all by yerself?” Meredith’s father asked now, taking up the burden of the conversation as his wife shot him a grateful glance, clearly at a loss as to how to proceed with a man who seemed to prefer to sit in uncomfortable silence. “I notice ye daenae have a manservant with ye, or anyone at all to help ye on yer way?”

“Nay,” the Laird responded, with a quick shake of the head. “Nae servants. I prefer the solitude. I enjoy the silence of the forest without mindless chatter from servants to fill it.”

Still on the stairs, Meredith stifled the giggle that had risen up in her throat. The silence the Laird professed to love so much had now settled on the room, and no one seemed quite aware how to break it until her father gave it one last go.

“And nae guards, either?” he asked cautiously. “I’d have thought a man yerself would be ever wary of attack?”

“I’m aware that me reputation precedes me,” the Laird replied curtly. “But I can assure ye, sir, I can look after meself - and anyone else who travels with me. Yer daughter will be quite safe with me. Assuming she wishes to return wi’ me, that is.”

“Aye, aye, of course, I dinnae mean…” Meredith’s father started to say, but Meredith chose this moment to clear her throat loudly, thus drawing everyone’s attention to her and saving her poor father from the embarrassment she felt sure he must be feeling.

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, suddenly afraid to walk any further. The Laird had risen automatically to his feet as she approached, but as she risked a quick look at his brooding face, she noticed with dismay that he looked anything but pleased to see her.

The scowl on his face was enough to scare the dead, and it only deepened as she took a few faltering steps towards him, barely hearing her father’s voice as he made the introductions. The Laird was not, it appeared, pleased with his future wife, a fact that was written all over his rough-hewn face and glinted dangerously from his one remaining eye.

Meredith’s heart sank. She had already made her mind up to accept him, but now it seemed only too clear the choice would not be hers to make. Still, there was nothing to be done, so, straightening her shoulders once more, she flashed him her widest smile and held out her hand obediently, feeling a start of surprise when he bent over it and pressed it to his lips. His reputation might be that of a rogue and a warrior, but at least he has the manners of a gentleman, she thought, taking a seat opposite him and looking up at him curiously. The man was a conundrum, and it was a puzzle she already knew she would very much like to solve.

* * *