Highlander Taken. Juliette Miller
our own husbands. Caleb might be allowed to return, though I knew better than to hope for such a thing.
“Aye.” I barely heard Maisie’s reply through the haze of my thoughts. “And I also have my own interests to consider. Of that I’m afraid I’ll need to be most definite. My first order of business, as Wilkie’s wife, will be to make sure he has no visiting...distractions.” She didn’t need to name her concern to be understood: the blonde distraction she was referring to would not be welcomed by the impending Lady of Glenlochie.
“I’m sure that’s a reasonable request,” Agnes said. Agnes, so unlike her twin, spoke with an ingrained authority on every subject. While Ann possessed a gentle, elegant beauty, Agnes was more petite, with pale skin and knowing brown eyes. She made up for her lack of physicality by ensuring that her opinion was always heard. “Wilkie will no doubt agree.”
I hoped, for Maisie’s sake, that he would.
Jamie’s small battle came to an abrupt end when his sword was knocked from his hands by his opponent’s decisive swipe. There was some laughter from the men as the young Mackenzie warrior jeered.
Clementine tried to reassure Bonnie. “I’ve heard it said that the Mackenzies are particularly well trained. They compete well against even the strongest of men.”
As though to punctuate the remark, a murmur rippled through the crowd as a commanding helmeted Mackenzie warrior walked into the ring. He was challenging not one but two of the more experienced Morrison soldiers, and he looked more than up to the task. Even before he removed his helmet to reveal his identity, I knew who he was. The crisscrossing strapped holsters that dripped with weaponry. The untouchable confidence. Kade Mackenzie, the very menace who had haunted my sleep, overpowering my more-peaceful dreams of Caleb and weaving through my shockingly sensual reveries of the garden phantom.
He was a captivating figure, to be sure, not only for his size and dynamic presence but for the immanent spectacle his very manner seemed to suggest; whatever drama was about to unfold was sure to be perilously theatrical, at very least. He held the riveted attention of every spectator in attendance, myself included.
Kade took his position, clutching a huge, lethal-looking sword, and in his left hand he held a shield that was cleverly armed with small, razor-sharp spears. A second sword was strapped to his back, where he could easily access it, and a large knife hung at his hip. He wore a leather sleeveless vest that exposed his tanned, muscular arms. His eyes caught mine for a long, fortified moment, causing a jolt of awareness to seep into every anxiety I possessed, and deeper still. Then he fitted his helmet back into place and took his position. His concentration honed in on his opponents and he began to circle, like a hungry wolf might circle newborn lambs. He was undoubtedly the most threatening aggressor I had ever laid eyes on. I feared for our own Morrison soldiers and hoped they would not be maimed, or killed.
Bonnie breathed a light sigh, perhaps of relief, now that Jamie was already bested. She muttered an unsteady sentiment we might all have been thinking: “Good Lord.”
The spar began and the Morrison soldiers attacked as one. Kade deflected easily, his movements so deft, so cuttingly concise, that the first defender was relieved of his weapons within the minute, and limped from the ring with a bloodied cut to the leg without bothering to defend his teammate. The second opponent didn’t last much longer. His strikes against Kade’s sword barely registered and were so skillfully countered that they appeared mere child’s play. With a circular slice, Kade succeeded in flinging the defending soldier’s sword with such force that several people in the audience had to flee from its flying path.
Kade kneeled over the felled Morrison warrior, staunch aggression radiating from him, and he held the point of his spear to the man’s throat. Then, after a loaded moment, Kade stepped back, allowing the man to surrender and make his way unsteadily to the sidelines. That he was able to best two of the largest, most battle-hardened Morrison warriors so easily only added to his clinging ferocity.
Again the crowd murmured, and several people backed up.
Kade stood, surveying our assembled Morrison warriors. “Is this the best you can give me?” he growled, issuing a defiant challenge.
“’Tis unnerving,” commented Ann quietly.
“He’s brutally strong,” observed Lottie.
“And so wild,” exclaimed Agnes in quieted tones. “To bloody the man was hardly necessary. He nearly speared Hugh right through the throat.”
I allowed that perhaps Hugh was still suffering from the effects of my futile attack on him with his own knife. He’d be wearing more than one bandage tomorrow, a truth that did not vex me in the slightest.
Lottie whispered her agreement. “He’s beastly.”
“Wilkie’s equally skilled but so much more civilized,” Maisie said.
I could only concur with my sisters as I watched Kade Mackenzie with a mixture of mild horror and accumulating awe. Maybe it was the entwined nature of my morning dream and the way Kade had appeared alongside not only Caleb but also the enchanting garden phantom, but I felt my skin grow warm and flushed from the spectacle of this display, from the effects of his raw, merciless energy. As aggressive as his attack might have been, there was no denying the athletic grace of him, and the articulate control with which he held himself.
My unease—or whatever this was—only intensified when I noticed that the exchange between my father and Laird Mackenzie seemed to be somewhat heated and complex; the way they were articulating with their hands, the grave concern etched onto Laird Mackenzie’s features, and my father’s, too: what were they discussing? Surely a straightforward negotiation about a marriage that had already been discussed and agreed to wouldn’t be so fraught.
Before I could dwell further on what the lairds’ angst might be about, a Morrison warrior stepped into the ring to challenge Kade, cheered on by his ranks and his clan members. It was Aleck, one of my father’s first officers. He was a massive ruffian who was better known for his brute strength than his tactical intelligence. He could throw a boulder the farthest, drink ale the fastest and had once killed a man with his bare hands. He was also one of the officers who had beaten me, at the orders of my father, when I had attempted to follow Caleb to Edinburgh.
In fact, Aleck and I had known each other as children. We were the same age and he had once, when we were fourteen, given me a thistle flower. At that age, he’d been a gangly boy with long limbs, knobby knees and a clumsiness that was likely a result of his ungainly adolescence. He’d eventually grown into his frame, towering over most of his peers and gaining a reputation not only as the strongest but also the most ambitious. He had been born of a lowly status and would therefore never be eligible to marry one of the laird’s daughters, as stated by my father himself. Nor would he amount to much; he might have aspired to be a small landholder, and a soldier of some ranking in the laird’s army. But Aleck had not been deterred by any obstacles of class or breeding. He had spent the past six years training endlessly, besting the blue bloods and proving his loyalty so thoroughly that he had recently gained the position of first officer. Twice he had asked for my hand, and twice he had been refused. I believe my father thought Aleck’s proposals to be in jest, a joke shared over ale in the late hours of strategic discussions. My father had only mentioned this to me recently, an offhand comment to prove that I could do better than Caleb, that I was sought after by soldiers and nobles alike and that I should not set my sights so low: a reference to both Caleb and Aleck, I knew.
As Aleck had beaten me, more than once, I couldn’t help feeling that the whip’s bite was laced with sweet revenge. I had not accepted the thistle flower Aleck had offered me those many years ago; my sisters had laughed and I had followed their lead.
Now, as he faced off against Kade, I thought they looked evenly matched. Aleck was bulkier than Kade and clearly outweighed him by a fair amount, but Kade was quicker and wilier. The crowd watched as the dueling men circled, swords raised. Aleck struck first, swinging his weapon with such force that it made a thrumming whirr as it cut through the air. Kade met the slice with his own sword. The clash of metal was deafening. I couldn’t imagine