The Highlander's Defiant Captive (The Lairds Most Likely 4)

"Thank ye." Callum clapped Duff on the shoulder. "I'll be down the moment I can put on some clothes."

"I'll see ye then." Duff turned to leave, but Callum had one more question. "Did Brian say if the Drummond got my message about the wedding?"

Duff gave an unamused snort. "Aye, Mackinnon. The old man flung it in the fire and cursed your name."

Callum shouldn't have expected anything more, although he'd included a letter from Mhairi that he hoped might reconcile her father to the fait accompli. Now he suspected the news of the marriage had only added fuel to the Drummond’s hatred for anyone called Mackinnon.

"Thanks, Duff." He let the other man go.

Shutting the door, he turned to face his bride of one night. He prayed to heaven she wouldn’t be a widow within the week.

"He didnae care for my letter," Mhairi said sadly.

"I have my doubts he even read it. John would have gone back with a bad enough report of how you've been treated."

"John is a disappointed suitor."

"Aye," Callum said grimly.

There was another knock at the door. When he opened it, Jean stood outside with two ewers of steaming hot water. "I thought ye and your lady might like to wash before ye come downstairs."

"Thank ye." Callum stepped back. "What's the mood in the keep?"

His old nurse curtsied to Mhairi, then crossed to pour some water into a bowl and lay out towels and soaps. "Och, nobody is that afeared. Achnasheen has never fallen. The castle is well provisioned. Willie Drummond will get over his tantrum soon enough and go home, especially now the weather has broken."

"I hope so. A string of deaths isnae the best way to begin a marriage, especially as now my lady and I are married, we’re kin to all the men who fall on either side."

"Shall I stay to help my lady dress?" Jean asked.

From the bed, Mhairi spoke with an easy authority that made Callum devilish proud. No weeping or panic for his gallant bride. "Jean, I'd like a moment with Callum. And you'll have enough to do downstairs. I'll come down and help in a few minutes."

Jean curtsied. "Aye, my lady."

Once they were alone again, Callum turned to Mhairi. "I'm sorry, my love, I have to go. Duff will have everything in hand, but…"

Her lush pink lips curved in a rueful smile. "But you're the laird. I ken."

"I hoped we'd have a little more time to…" He made a gesture that encompassed his thwarted plans to devote the day to her sensual education.

Their life together had started with a night of unforgettable bliss. He'd hoped to travel further along the way of true intimacy before the outside world and its brutal demands intruded.

"We've got the rest of our lives."

He hated that concern had replaced the rosy joy glowing in her face when she woke. He never underestimated what it had cost her to abandon a lifetime's prejudice and throw her lot in with the Mackinnons. Now with the prospect of bloodshed, she must feel torn in two.

He washed quickly, shaved, and tied back his hair, all under his bride’s curious gaze. "You're making me feel self-conscious."

She laughed, although h

e saw it took more effort than it would have before Duff arrived with his unwelcome tidings. "I never realized the view from the tower room was so spectacular."

He crossed the room to kiss her. She'd tugged on the nightdress again. "I'll have Jean bring up some breakfast. You've had a long night."

She kissed him back with all the desperation she’d tried to conceal from him. They were both all too conscious of the dangers gathering around them. "So have ye. I'll wash and dress and do as I said I would, help my people prepare for this trouble."

Moved, he caught her face between his hands and despite the urgency stared into her delicate features. "Do ye mean that, beloved?"

She frowned. "About helping? Of course I do."