To Deceive a Highlander: The Sutherlands of Dornoch Castle ~ Book 1 Read online

  That was another point in Elsbeth's favor. He had no time or desire to fall in love with a wife. Strong emotions could cripple a mon and make him vulnerable. There was no place in his life for the feisty sister whose passion could edge him toward something he had no intention of allowing.

  However, while Elsbeth had a soft, demure look about her, and an easy demeanor, ‘twas Ainslee’s curvy body he imagined running his hands over in the marriage bed. She was the one he pictured screaming his name with pleasure as he plunged his staff into her soft moistness. A ridiculous notion since they’d only been acquainted for a few hours. Which why ‘twas best to stay as far from the lass as possible and wind up the visit quickly, with a betrothal agreement between him and Lady Elsbeth.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Laird? Surely you doona think I would get lost in my own bailey?” Her strained voice and tight smile brought him back to himself. Her annoyance warmed his heart.

  “Nay. ‘Tis sure I am yer quite able to take care of yerself.”

  “Indeed.” She dropped the piece of lace she’d been fingering, and tucking her skirts against her legs, lest she touch his trews, she swept past him.

  Haydon watched her hurry away and turned to the crofter. “How much for that wee bit of lace the lass was looking at?”

  The mon related the price, and Haydon fished in the sporran that hung over his shoulder and withdrew two coins. As he held them out to the man, he said, “Ye better make that two pieces of lace.”

  He joined Conall, the Johnstone, and the two lasses, waiting in a circle for his return. Johnstone was pointing out something to Conall. Haydon handed the lace to the lasses. “’Tis sorry I am that I drove ye away from the crofter.”

  Elsbeth dipped a slight curtsy and lowered her eyes, a blush stealing up her cheeks. “Thank you, Laird.”

  Ainslee greeted him with raised eyebrows. “’Twas not necessary. I have my own coin.”

  “Ainslee!” Another nudge from her sister.

  Ainslee sighed. “But thank ye.”

  Haydon held in his chuckle, and they continued with the tour.

  Everywhere they went, clan members greeted the laird with ease, yet respect. ‘Twas nice to know his future wife grew up in such pleasant surroundings. The Johnstone daughters had verra little to say while they strolled along. Most likely Elsbeth because she was shy and uncomfortable with strangers, and no doubt Ainslee was merely annoyed that she had to accompany them.

  He’d been satisfied with Lochwood Tower thus far. The sound of swords clashing had drawn him to the lists to observe the men training. They appeared adept and worked hard under the supervision of two older men, who shouted orders and corrections to the men.

  The tour took up another hour before Johnstone slapped him on the back as they returned from their visit to the impressive stables housing dozens of well fed and well-muscled beasts. “I think a large ale would do just fine right about now.”

  They all agreed and trooped back to the great hall.

  “Da, please excuse us. We have much to do to prepare for tonight’s feast.” Ainslee spoke sweetly for the first time since he’d met her. Haydon couldn’t help but think she was trying to appease her da who had seemed annoyed with her since their introduction earlier.

  “Aye, see that all is well, lass.”

  The lasses scurried away, and the three men settled at a table. A serving wench carried in mugs and a pitcher of ale.

  “Ye’ve a good, solid keep here, Laird.” Haydon took a sip, the cool refreshing liquid sliding down his throat, easing the dryness from their walk. “Yer men seem ready to do battle.”

  “Thank ye.” Johnstone leaned forward. “What do ye hear about the rebellion, Laird? Being so far south from the noise up north, we doona hear much here in Kintyre.”

  “Our messengers tell me William Cunningham is sending word to all the clans, hoping to rally them to support the rebellion. I’ve had word from Cunningham’s camp that they are looking at our own Dornoch Castle for a gathering place.”

  “Since yer considering taking one of my lasses to wife, ‘tis hopeful I am that ye are well prepared to defend yer castle.”

  Ordinarily Haydon would be insulted at such words, but since he’d never fathered a bairn, ‘twas hard to take offense at the mon’s question. “Aye, we are well protected. Our men train for hours daily. I doubt there will be any fighting near Dornoch, just a place for Cunningham to rally the clans.”

  The Scott nodded. “We’re ready to join the rebellion. See that ye send word when the time comes. The hour has arrived to get rid of the Sassenach and leave the clans to deal with their own, like we’ve been doing for years.”

  Haydon raised his mug of ale. “Slàinte!”

  “Slàinte!” Conall and Johnstone responded.

  A mon wearing the colors of the Johnstone clan entered the hall. “Laird, ye are needed in the bailey. A skirmish has erupted between two crofters, and they request yer presence to settle the matter.”

  Johnstone stood and addressed Haydon and Conall. “If ye will excuse me, I will see to this problem.”

  Haydon waved off the mon. “’Tis fine. I would like to take a turn at some of yer men in the lists. No' a good idea for a mon to stay too long from his sword.”

  As Haydon and Conall made the walk from the great hall to the lists, several lasses turned their heads to study them, smiling and swishing their hips. Since he was here to contract a marriage with one of the laird’s daughters, he would not disrespect them by encouraging any of the wenches.

  Conall, however, always with the charm and natural attraction to the lasses stopped and flirted with one or two until Haydon grew restless and reminded him where they were headed.

  “Ye need a lass in yer bed, brother. I’ve told you that many times before,” Conall groused as he caught up to Haydon.

  “Aye, and that is what this trip is all about. I won’t be casting any looks at the lasses here with plans to return home with a betrothal.”

  The time had come to do his duty and find a wife and get a few bairns on her. Conall was his heir right now, but he wanted sons of his own. Strong lads and bonny wee lasses. The keep would run smoother with a wife, also. After Mamaidh had passed away, he’d expected his sister, Donella, of fifteen years to take over the keep duties. However, Mamaidh had often referred to Donella as a ‘dreamer.’

  The lass had a hard time organizing and supervising the servants. When he pointed out to her a tear in his shirt, or the rushes that needing changing, or the kitchen garden that was growing wild, she would smile and promise to see to it, and then disappear.

  A wife would solve a lot of those problems, and wee Elsbeth would do just fine. He had no desire for a great passion or love. That was for women to stew about. A good romp in his bed, bairns to follow, hot meals on the table, and a well-run keep. That was all he needed from a wife.

  Clashing of swords, grunts, and shouts from the men greeted them as they turned the corner of the keep. They stood and studied the men for a few minutes. One of the lads they’d seen during their tour walked up to them. “So are ye ready to take on a few of us, Sutherland?”

  “Aye, but are yer men ready to take us on?” He grinned and slid his sword from the scabbard strapped to his back. He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on a stone bench, leaving him in trews and boots. Conall followed, and the brothers entered the fray.

  It felt good to have his sword in his hand again, in the middle of a list, parrying with Johnstone’s men. For the most part, they were skilled, but Haydon took pride in the fact that any one of his men could take down most of Johnstone’s warriors.

  “Sutherland!” A mon strode up to him. Perhaps an inch or two shorter than him, the warrior was braw, with a mustache and beard covering everything on his face except his eyes. Stringy hair to his mid back was held behind his head with a leather strap.

  Haydon wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm. “Aye.”

  The warrior stood with his hands on his hips, legs spread, and a huge grin on his face. “’Tis time to take on a real mon if yer no’ afraid.”

  Haydon spit on the ground. “Afraid? Ne’er.”

  “Stand back!” The mon waved his massive arms, and all those in the lists stopped and gathered at the edge, forming a circle.

  Haydon believed he was being challenged not just to prove his worth on the battlefield, but as a husband to one of the Johnstone lasses. ‘Twas a test he was up for. He wiped his sweaty palm on his trews and took a firmer grip on his sword.

  The two men bent forward, then circled each other until Haydon saw an opening and swung. Swords clashed as they came forward, and then withdrew. After three more parries, Haydon identified a weakness in the mon, but for the purposes of a show he wouldn’t employ the tactics to disarm him yet.

  Each time the warrior lunged forward forcing Haydon to jump back, cheers erupted from the crowd. Shouts of encouragement drew clansmen and women from their duties to join the circle of men.

  Christ’s toes, it felt good to be truly challenged. Most times ‘twas only his brother who could make him sweat. After about ten minutes of playing with the mon, Haydon feigned left, then right, then snapped his sword underneath his opponent’s, the weapon flying from his hand into the air as his feet slipped out from under him and he tumbled to the ground on his arse.

  Haydon placed the tip of his sword to the man’s throat. Both men breathed heavily, their panting the only sound, as the crowd grew silent. Surely, they did not think he would kill the mon? ‘Twas certainly not the way to win the hand of the laird’s daughter. “Good fight, mon.” He pulled his sword back and reached out to help the warrior to his feet.

  Backslapping and congratulations followed. Haydon shook the sweat from his forehead,
his eyes traveling up the side of the keep. At a window above, one of the Johnstone lasses stood, watching the display. Uncertain which one it was, he bowed and offered a smile. When a scowl appeared on her face, he laughed out loud, kenning ‘twas Ainslee who had watched him defeat their best warrior.

  * * *

  After a bath, when he had to gently reject the wench sent to help him bathe from offering any other services without hurting the lass’s feelings, Haydon joined the Johnstone in the mon’s solar.

  A room made for comfort and status, it included a fireplace and decorative woodwork as well as tapestries on every wall. An adjoining room appeared to be for a lady’s use with the walls painted green with gold stars.

  “Ye wished to see me, Laird?” Haydon settled in the comfortable chair next to the Johnstone, in front of the low-burning fireplace.

  “Aye. ‘Tis only a day ye’ve been here, but already stories have reached my ears about yer prowess on the lists and how you defeated my cousin, Bryan.”

  “Yer cousin is a fine mon and a skilled warrior.” Haydon grinned. “I am just a tad better, is all.”

  The Johnstone laughed. “And ye have a sense of humor.” He stood and poured two mugs of ale from a pitcher on the table behind them. He handed one to Haydon and raised his glass. “Slainte.”

  “Slainte.” Haydon responded, and they both took hardy gulps of the refreshing drink.

  “Ye’ve seen my two lasses.” He shook his head and settled back into his chair. “I’m afraid my Ainslee is a bit outspoken, a trait her mam and I tried to halt, but ‘tis just something in the lass that she can’t control.”

  “Everyone can control what they say.” Haydon sat back further in the chair and rested his booted foot on his knee. “The lass just needs a firmer hand. I’m thinking as her da, you have too much of a soft spot for the lass.”

  The Johnstone nodded and sighed. “I think yer right.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward and regarded Haydon. “Perhaps a stern husband is the best thing for the lass. Ye seem staunch enough.”

  Haydon hadn’t intended to make his choice known so soon, but it was best to get the dangerous idea out of the laird’s mind about to which lass he would be offering a proposal. Attempting to tame the termagant would take away precious hours from his duties as laird.

  He shifted in his seat as the thought of directing all that passion to where it would bring them the most pleasure had his staff swelling with the vision. Best to get that picture out of his mind, as well.

  “I hadn’t planned on making a choice so soon, but I’m leaning toward wee Elsbeth.”

  The laird’s shoulders slumped, and he drank the last of his ale. “’Tis sorry I will be to see the lass leave me, but I kenned ‘twould happen one day.” He stiffened in his chair and nodded his approval. “A good decision, laird. Elsbeth will be obedient and caring for ye and any bairns ye give her. She is skilled in household management, gardening, and medicaments for yer clan.”

  “Excellent.” Haydon smiled, happy with his choice. Perhaps time away from her twin, the obvious dominant one, might make the lass stronger. Since he was not one to wander from bed to bed, especially when married, he would use his skill in the bedchamber to bring passion to their bed sport.

  He shoved away the vision of the other lass’s fire and spirit he’d already seen in other ways. Ah, there was a lass who would keep a mon from his duties just to spend time discovering new ways to make the lass scream with pleasure.

  “So as not to extend the concern over who will be leaving us, with yer permission, I’d like to call the lasses in to tell them of yer decision. ‘Twill make the leaving easier I believe if they have time together to prepare.”

  Haydon nodded, and the laird headed toward the door, then turned. “I doona suppose ye have another mon about yer place who would take on the other one? Yer brother, perhaps?”

  Thinking of Conall and the many lasses he had offering him a tumble, he smiled. “Nay. I doona think that would work.”

  “Aye.”

  The lasses’ bedchamber must not have been far from the solar, since the Johnstone returned within minutes. Or else they had been waiting outside, expecting the laird’s question.

  As usual, wee Elsbeth walked in with her head down, her fingers clasped in front of her. Ainslee marched alongside her, her defiant chin raised, matching him stare for stare. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Ah, but the lass was dangerous. ‘Twas a good thing she would be left behind when his bride arrived at Dornoch.

  Once they were all settled in their seats, the Johnstone addressed the lasses. “My dear daughters, the laird has made up his mind who he wishes to take to wife.”

  Both lasses stiffened, and Elsbeth’s face grew quite pale, her interlaced fingers turning white, her eyes still downcast.

  “The Earl of Sutherland, Laird Haydon Sutherland of Dornoch Castle, has decided to offer his hand in marriage, forming an alliance between the Sutherlands and the Johnstones, to my lovely daughter, Elsbeth.”

  Ainslee narrowed her eyes at Haydon just as wee Elsbeth let out a sigh and slid from her chair to the floor in a dead faint.

  3

  “Doona just stand there, help her!” Ainslee snapped at the Sutherland and Da as she dropped to her knees and took Elsbeth’s hand. Both men stared down at her sister as if they’d ne’er seen her before.

  ”Aye, I’m thinking the joyful excitement has gotten to her.” Da looked around as if someone would magically appear to help him out of the dilemma.

  “Stand aside, lass. I’ll carry her to her bedchamber.” The laird bent to one knee, and before Ainslee could protest, he scooped Elsbeth up in his arms and stood. “Show me the way.”

  Joyful excitement, indeed. Elsbeth had fainted when she simply imagined life with the arrogant laird who picked her up with such ease and carried her like she weighed no more than a bag of feathers.

  “’Tis not proper for ye to be carrying my sister to her bed, but ‘tis this way.” Ainslee hurried from the room and down the corridor to their chamber. Elsbeth was more prone to swoons than Ainslee had ever been, and certainly the shock of Da’s announcement was more than the poor lass could stand.

  The sound of the laird’s boots on the stone floor echoed behind her as they strode down the corridor until they reached their bedchamber. Without an invitation, the laird barreled through the door and deposited Elsbeth on the bed.

  The bedchamber she and Elsbeth had shared for years was a large one, with an attached solar. Now, however, the room seemed smaller, as if it had shrunk overnight. The laird took up all the room and all the air. Which was precisely why Ainslee was having a problem accessing some for her lungs. She stiffened her shoulders and raised her chin. “If you will excuse us, Laird, I will attend my sister.”

  “Will she be all right? Does she do this often?”

  Ainslee stepped back from the mon who was entirely too close and whose verra presence rattled her so. Her eyes snapped with barely controlled anger. “Are ye afraid ye might have just offered to take to wife an unsound woman? Is that yer concern? Are ye sorry in yer choice?”

  Ainslee could almost see the steam come from the mon’s ears. “’Twas not my worry at all. I am merely concerned for the lass’s welfare. As for being the wrong choice, the only other one is ye, and if that was forced upon me, ‘twould be more than swooning I would do. A head-first tumble from the window beyond would be a happier fate.”

  She fisted her hands at her side and gritted her teeth. “If ye will excuse me, Laird, I would attend my sister now. There is no further need for ye.” In an inexcusable show of rudeness, she turned her back and bent over Elsbeth.

  Only after she heard his footsteps stomping off, did her knees give way and she sat alongside Elsbeth, taking a deep breath. Her heart pounded, and her stomach felt as though a nest of honeybees swarmed inside. Ach, how she despised the mon. And to think sweet, demure Elsbeth would be married to the lout!

  She pushed the hair back from Elsbeth’s forehead. “My poor sister. What did ye ever do to deserve such a fate?”