His Highland Lass (The Clan Sinclair Book 1) Read online

  Chapter One

  She entered the great hall like a strong spring storm in the northern most Highlands. Tristan Mackay felt like he had been blown hither and yon. As the storm settled, she left him with the sweet scents of heather and lavender wafting towards him as she approached. She was not a classic beauty, tall and willowy like the women at court. Her face and form were not what legends were made of. But she held a unique appeal unlike any he had seen before. He could not take his eyes off of her long chestnut hair that had strands of fire and burnt copper running through them. Unlike the waves or curls he was used to, her hair was unusually straight and fine. It looked like a waterfall cascading down her back. While she was not tall, neither was she short. She had a figure that was meant for a man to grasp and hold onto, whether from the front or from behind. She had an aura of confidence and charm, but not arrogance or conceit like many good looking women he had met. She did not seem to know her own appeal. He could tell that she was many things, but one thing she was not was his.

  Mairghread Sinclair was intended for his brother—his stepbrother, Alan. She and her father, Liam, and her four brothers approached with a contingency of guardsmen behind them. They had left even more guardsmen in the inner bailey attending to their horses. The Mackays and Sinclairs had not been on good terms of late, and an alliance between Tristan’s stepbrother and the Sinclair’s daughter was meant to create a truce between the two raiding clans. Within the last three years, numerous crofts and fields had been burnt by both sides and countless heads of cattle and sheep went back and forth between the two. However, when an out and out clash between raiders who met coincidentally one night left fifteen Sinclairs dead and eighteen Mackays dead or wounded, both chiefs decided that a truce was needed. The strongest way to secure that and to form an alliance was through marriage. As there were no eligible females in the Mackay chief’s family to marry off to one of the Sinclair brothers, it fell to Mairghread to marry a Mackay. Tristan did not think he was ready or even inclined to marry at this point. He did feel that his stepbrother, Alan, would benefit from settling down and sowing his seed in only one woman rather than any he could get his meaty hands onto long enough to lift his plaid. He had a quick pang of guilt as the thought that Mairghread was the sacrificial lamb flashed through his mind.

  Tristan stepped down from the dais where he had been eating his midday meal with his stepbrother and stepmother, Lady Beatris. As the Sinclair party approached, he saw a wary look cross each of their faces as they looked past Tristan to where Alan and Beatris remained seated. He almost groaned at their rudeness. This was not the first impression he would like to make. He did not dare look back as he did not want to make their rudeness any more obvious than it already was.

  When he reached Laird Sinclair, he reached out his arm to grasp the other chief’s forearm in greeting. He noted that Laird Sinclair was a bear of a man. He was barrel chested and stood almost as tall as Tristan’s six and a half feet. While he had to be at least two and half score, if he was a day, his hair and beard were still the same dark chestnut as his daughter. In fact, all of Laird Sinclair’s children shared his coloring, but while the men had brown eyes, his daughter had a blue-grey unlike any shade he had seen before. When he turned to greet her, his breath was taken away once more. She had clear skin that was slightly darkened from time in the sun. There was a hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose and across the tops of her cheekbones. Her nose was neither narrow nor pointy like most women he knew. It had a soft, almost flat, finish to the tip. He knew that her profile would be gentle and rounded rather than harsh and angular. Her lips drew his attention away from her eyes and nose. They were a perfect bow shape and pink but almost closer to red. They looked soft and kissable. He almost shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had no business fantasizing about how those lips would feel against his. He ran a hand through his shoulder length, jet black hair.

  “Welcome to Castle Varrich. On behalf of ma stepmother, stepbrother, and Clan Mackay, I welcome ye. I trust yer journey went smoothly.” Tristan finally managed to gather his thoughts enough to say something to his guests.

  “Thank ye fer having us, Laird Mackay.” Clearly, Liam Sinclair was not a man of many words.

  Tristan turned to Mairghread and said, “Lady Mairghread, a chamber has been prepared fer ye above stairs if ye would like to retire until the evening meal.”

  A look of annoyance crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She looked at Tristan and plastered what she hoped was a serene smile on her face.

  “Thank ye, Laird Mackay. I would like to refresh maself and have a moment to change out of ma travel clothes. However, I’ve been atop a horse fer three days. I would really like to stretch ma legs. Perhaps I could be shown the gardens.” She looked pointedly over his shoulder at her soon to be betrothed. Alan was still shoveling food into his mouth as though it would be his last meal for days. Alan was known to indulge in all things he could whether it was food, drink, or women. His mother only encouraged him, and he was as spoiled an adult as he had been a child. Fortunately for him and for the clan, he loved to train as much as he loved to imbibe in drink and women. It was the only way that he could keep himself from being as broad as the side of the stable. He must have felt several pairs of eyes on him because he finally looked up.

  Tristan turned to face the dais as he could no longer ignore the fact that neither his stepbrother nor his stepmother had come forward to greet their guests. It took quite a great deal to embarrass Tristan, but now he not only felt embarrassed but rather ashamed of his family. Alan had not exactly jumped at the idea of marrying, and certainly not a Sinclair, but he had finally come around to the idea when he realized that a wife meant a guaranteed woman to warm his bed each night.

  “Lady Beatris, could ye kindly show Lady Mairghread to her chamber. Then Alan perhaps ye could take Lady Mairghread fer a turn or two around the gardens. It might be a nice way to become acquainted with yer future wife.” He turned back to see the Sinclair brothers glaring at Alan. They were clearly not impressed with their future brother-by-marriage.

  Chapter Two

  Tristan watched as Lady Beatris led Mairghread, albeit grudgingly, up the stairs to her chamber. Alan finally came down from the dais to be introduced to his intended’s family. Tristan could tell that Laird Sinclair was sizing Alan up both physically and by his character. While Sinclair looked to be pleasantly impressed by Alan’s clear warrior physique, his lips turned down slightly when he looked into Alan’s eyes. He looked briefly toward the stairs that Beatris and Mairghread had just taken. A look of regret flashed so quickly across his eyes that Tristan was not sure if he had made it up in his own mind. When he looked to the other men, he noticed that Mairghread’s brothers had stealthily formed a slight semicircle around Alan. He was almost boxed in with no way to move forward unless they let him pass. He listened as they each introduced themselves to Alan. The oldest and tanaiste, or heir, was Callum, and he seemed to be the calmest of the group. He was followed by Alexander, who currently served at Callum’s second. He had an air of authority that matched his brother’s, but he seemed more shrewd and cunning. Tristan felt he was one to be careful not to make an enemy of. The third brother, Tavish, was the shortest of the four, but that was only by a hair. He most closely resembled their father in build. While the other three brothers were broad across the chest and shoulders, Tavish had their father’s barrel chest. The fourth and youngest brother, Magnus, was the largest of the lot. He looked as though he tossed cabers as a daily warm up before training for eight hours. He looked like a positive giant. Tristan had heard that Magnus and Mairghread were th
e closest in age and were extremely close. For Alan’s sake, he hoped that Alan never angered Magus as he was not sure Alan would survive.

  Tristan picked up the conversation as Alan finally remembered his manners. He caught Alan saying, “Perhaps ye would like to join our men out in the training yard. I would join ye, but as ye heard, I must take yer sister out fer a walk.” Perhaps he had not remembered his manners after all.

  Tristan almost cringed at Alan’s tone. He made it sound like he was being forced to take a dog out for a walk rather than spend time with his future wife. While all the Sinclair men’s faces remained neutral, there was a shift in the air. Things were not off to a good start. Not good in the least. Tristan could only hope that the afternoon would turn the situation around, or they may never get around to signing the betrothal papers.

  ~~

  In her chambers, Mairghread breathed a calming breath as she turned to face her soon to be mother-by-marriage. Just the walk to the chamber had been enough to grate on Mairghread’s nerves. Lady Beatris had a whining lilt to her already nasally voice. She had not come up for air once she launched into describing all the wonderful attributes that her son had. While it was clear that the woman wholeheartedly believed every single word she spoke, it sounded as if she was a tinker selling her son and he were a shiny trinket made out of dinged and warped iron.

  When Lady Beatris paused to close the door, Mairghread found her opportunity to speak up. “Lady Beatris, thank ye fer showing me the way. I shall only be a moment while I change. I see that ma trunk has already made its way up here. I will return to the great hall to join yer son on our walk.”

  While that was as strong a hint as she dared give, she hoped that the woman would take it. That was not to be the case.

  “Lady Mairghread, I would be happy to help ye with yer gowns. Though I see ye dinna follow the court fashions. The well-polished and sophisticated ladies of the court wear the ties to their gowns in the back. It takes at least one lady in waiting or maid to assist them in and out of their gowns. Ye might consider a change in yer wardrobe once ye become the wife of the Clan Mackay tanaiste. A wardrobe that better suits yer elevated status, perhaps.”

  Mairghread gritted her teeth. She had been presented at court several times over the course of her life as her father was a well-respected Highland laird. She was all too well aware of what went on at court from the wardrobes of those women to their scheming and unchaste behavior. She had wanted no part of that in the past and wanted no part of it now. She preferred her gowns to have the ties in the front so she did not have to rely on anyone to assist her. She enjoyed her privacy, the little that she had with four brothers, and when she retired to her chamber, she liked to be alone. As for elevated status, she did not see how her status was going up in any way. She was the only daughter of one of the wealthiest and most powerful lairds in the Highlands, in all of Scotland really. She was a wealthy heiress in her own rights as her dowry included many household items, jewelry, and a passel of land. She loosened her jaw and forced herself to relax.

  I have naught to prove to that auld biddy. She does blather on a bit. Does she ever haud her wheest?

  “I dinna care fer court fashion as I find it impractical to ma duties around the keep. I prefer to be able to dress maself than have a maid do it. I like ma privacy.” A stronger hint given. Will she get it?

  “Oh. Well, yes then. I shall see ye below shortly.” Lady Beatris left with a harrumph and a swish of her skirts.

  Mairghread finally released the breath she had not realized she was holding. She quickly slipped out of her kirtle and splashed water onto her face and neck. There was a drying cloth folded on the table next to the bowl. She spotted her bar of lavender and heather soap on the other side of the bowl. She made quick work of washing herself down as best she could without a tub. She was into a new kirtle and on her way out of the chamber in less than five minutes.

  I may as well get this walk over with. I wish I hadnae said anything. I could have gone by maself if I hadnae opened ma gob. That man is vile, and I’m going to be tied to him fer the rest of ma life. Bluidy bleeding hell.

  Her inner monologue ceased as she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the great hall. She looked at her brothers and father and saw that in the short time she was gone, things had not improved. All four of them stood with their arms crossed and appeared to be listening intently to whatever Alan was saying. However, after a lifetime of her father’s mannerisms which her brothers had adopted either by nature or nurture, she knew what their stance meant. They were not pleased. They were hiding their disdain and boredom for the most part but their crossed arms showed they did not welcome Alan into the conversation as well as they had Laird Mackay.

  At the thought of Laird Mackay, her eyes shifted to look for him. He stood slightly apart from the other men as he talked to someone she had not seen earlier. Both brothers were clearly warriors in their build, but Laird Mackay was the brawest man she had ever laid eyes on. Thinking about eyes, she was curious to get a closer look at his eyes. Were they emerald green or more like moss after it rained? Her breath caught again just as it had when she arrived and her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the great hall after being outside. He was unlike any man she had met in her score and two years. He was built like an oak tree with trunks for legs, ones that she peered at below his plaid and above his mid-calf boots. He had the arms of a blacksmith, his forearms had to be almost a wide around as her thigh. His shoulders were so broad that she would not be surprised if he had to turn sideways to go through most doorways, and he probably had to bend slightly as well. He had to be close to six and a half feet tall. She had always thought her brothers were the most impressively built men she had ever seen, but Tristan Mackay made them look like lads who still had some growing to do. Even her giant of a brother, Magnus, did not seem as braw as Tristan.

  She forced her eyes away from Tristan, but as soon as they settled on Alan, she wished she had not. He was a disappointment in comparison. She knew she should not think that, but it was the truth to her. While he did have the physique of a well-trained warrior, he just did not seem as braw as his stepbrother. He had fair hair and blue eyes, both nondescript shades. Clearly, they came from different stock as they were not blood relatives, but from what she understood, they had grown up together from being weans. There was an arrogance about Alan that she found exceedingly off putting. No one had noticed her enter the great hall yet so she took the opportunity to observe her future betrothed. He still talked with her family, but from her current position, she could see how his eyes constantly moved around the great hall as though he was looking for something. When his gaze landed on a busty serving woman and he smirked, Mairghread got an even better sense of the man that she was meant to marry. She continued to observe Alan. He moved on to look at another two women in much the same way. One approached the group of men with a tray of ale for each. She leaned forward slightly as she served her brothers, giving them a clear view of her ample bosom. As she leaned forward, she positioned her backside next to Alan. He gave her a surreptitious pinch as he grinned at the Sinclairs. As she walked away, he gave her an overt pat on the backside. She thought she heard one of her brothers growl. Next, he looked at two much younger serving women. They could not have been more than six or seven and ten years old. They both took a step back from the table they were clearing off. They were clearly frightened of him and did not want his attention.

  So, he chases all the women employed in the keep. Or at least the ones he thinks are worth bedding. The older women enjoy his attention, but the younger ones shy away. I wonder if that is the case with most of them. What does he do that has the more experienced women showing him attention while the inexperienced want nothing to do with him? Is he skilled in the bedchamber or does he lavish his women with gifts or perks? Or have these women simply learned it is easier to do his bidding?

  Once again, Mairghread found her mind running away with her as she assessed her poten
tial husband. In her mind, he was moving away from definitively being her new husband to being only a potential husband. She knew this would not do her any good. She needed to accept what was already in the works. Whether she liked him or not would not sway the need for an alliance or her father’s mind. She fervently hoped that she was only seeing a superficial version of Alan and that there would be more substance, even if it took time to find it. Perhaps he would improve once he made a commitment to her and to marriage. Somehow, the back of her mind kept telling her that did not seem likely.

  She knew she could not hide much longer or people would begin to wonder what was keeping her. She did not want the Mackays to think she would be awkward and prim. Taking too long to reappear might give them the impression that she took overly long to get ready. She stepped out into the hall and walked towards the six men. As she walked past the woman that Alan had pinched, she saw the look of enmity in the woman’s eyes. She passed two more women who gave her much the same look. As she passed an older woman, she saw pity. The two younger women who had been cleaning the table also gave her looks of pity. So those who ken him pity me, and those who ken him find me to be competition. Mairghread simply smiled warmly at all whom she passed. She said hello to those who seemed willing to hear her.

  Once she joined the men, they all turned to look at her. It made her self-conscious to have all these eyes on her because she knew everyone else in the hall was looking at her too. Understandably they were trying to get a feel for the new lady in the keep.

  She turned her warmest smile on Alan and almost gasped at the leer he gave her. His eyes never travelled higher than her cleavage, which she had an ample amount of and could not easily hide in most summer gowns. Now she did not want to walk the gardens with him. She did not want to be anywhere near him and certainly not alone, but she was the one who had mentioned it.

  Alan extended his arm to her. “Shall we take that turn aboot the garden, ma sweet. I realize now that it was an excellent suggestion. I only wish I had thought of it maself.” His candy sweet words made her want to retreat. She had an overwhelmingly bad feeling about being around him. She could not quite put her finger on it. It was not pure fear or pure revulsion but some type of combination of the two. She placed her hand on his forearm, but he quickly tucked it around the crook of his arm and began to drag her towards the door. She shot an anxious glance over her shoulder at Magnus, and the nod of her head was so brief that Tristan almost missed it. Magnus immediately fell into step behind them. Alan turned back and glared at him. Magnus simply crossed his arms and shrugged. Mairghread did not know how he could walk with his arms crossed, but it certainly made him look even fiercer than he normally did.