The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

A listair was almost ready to either tear his hair out, find some poor soul to pummel in Laird Cameron’s practice yard, or drink an entire bottle of distilled spirits. He’d known that Niamh was angry about his attempt to deceive her. He knew he’d handled the situation involving her friend Grace badly. But by all the powers in existence, he’d not known she’d take it so poorly.

Every step taken since she’d left the room to ‘pack her things’ had been a battle. First, she couldn’t find her travel packs. Then she thought they needed mending. Then she wanted to take a full trunk, and a cart or carriage, rather than riding horses. Then she didn’t know what clothing to take. Thrice he’d caught her attempting to sneak out to the village on some excuse. And so, it went.

It didn’t matter that they both knew her father would send the remainder of her personal belongings with servants or messengers. Nor did it seem to matter to Niamh that, as her betrothed and her future husband, Alistair was both able and willing to provide for her needs in everything from clothing to supplies for needlework, art, reading, writing, or any other diversions she cared to name.

She was determined to consider, discuss, and argue about every decision that had to be made, and every personal possession she owned.

Alistair had hoped, when he made his pronouncement, that they’d be on the road just after the noon meal. By the time food was served in the Great Hall, he had come to the realization that, given her way, Niamh would delay them until the noon meal a fortnight away, if not longer.

He attempted to enlist the aid of Laird Cameron, but Niamh steadfastly refused to speak to her father. She barely acknowledged his presence at all, and then only when they were in public. The rest of the time, she ignored the Cameron laird.

When he caught her pulling out and going through her summer dresses – though the season was long past – for the second time, Alistair decided enough was enough.

“Ye dinnae need tae worry about summer attire. This late in the year, ‘twill be winter clothing ye need. Ye should pack that.”

Niamh glared at him. “Ye cannae ken what I need. Besides, I often layer me summer dresses in the winter, so that I may add or remove layers as the temperature warrants. There is a great deal of difference between the courtyard in a winter wind and one’s own room with a roaring fire in the hearth. I should hate tae be ill-prepared.”

Alistair gritted his teeth. “I’m sure we can make ye comfortable, lass. And I’ve told ye afore, nae only will yer faither ensure any belongings ye leave behind are sent tae ye, but I’ve clan-folk who can provide fer whatever ye need.”

“But I have favorites among me dresses of any season, and it would be a shame to leave any of them behind.” She calmly turned away and began sorting through the clothing.

Alistair scowled for a moment before he turned to a nearby servant. “See her winter clothing is packed, from her formal clothing tae her night-things. Add tae that her cloaks, underthings, accessories and shoes, indoor and outdoor, then two o’ the summer-weight dresses she wears most often. All o’ it tae be packed in chests or bags that can be carried by horse.”

Niamh stared at him, eyes flashing and teeth bared in anger. “Ye bastard! Ye cannae order me servants about in me own home!”

“Call yer faither then, if ye think he’ll countermand me. As a laird in me own right, I outrank ye until we’re wed.” With the ruse no longer necessary, Alistair saw no reason not to be blunt. “I said I wished tae begin the journey, and I meant it. I’ve responsibilities tae return tae.”

“And yet, it didnae concern ye when ye were planning tae woo me without tellin’ me the truth.” She spat the words.

“Matters have changed.” He turned to the servant. “Dae as I command. Yer mistress is now me betrothed, and I wish tae be on me way.” He considered a moment. “If yer loyalty tae yer mistress stays yer hand, then find someone who serves her faither tae dae the job instead.”

Niamh hissed at him, but the servant lass had more sense than to argue with a laird. She dipped her head and left, to be replaced a few minutes later by two older servants with stern expressions, who nodded curtly and began to pack as he had commanded.

“Ye’re a brute, a lout, and an utter bastard.”

“I’ll nae deny the first and second, but ye’ll find me birth legitimate enough, and me parents properly wed when I was conceived, lass.” His own irritation sparked at her words, but he reminded himself that Niamh had a right to be angry.

The next fight was over her writing and sewing supplies. Niamh was insistent on taking everything, including extra ink and parchment. Alistair saw no reason to do so, especially when inkwells were so difficult to transport. There were plenty of supplies at MacDuff Castle, and it was an easy matter to have more provided as needed.

Niamh didn’t need to take an entire pack of writing supplies. Nor did she need another full pack of needles, thread and fabric. She could pack enough of both for the journey into one small satchel and set aside anything else she wanted for her father to send to her later.

By the time that had been resolved, Alistair’s patience was starting to wear dangerously thin once again, and it was nearing mid-afternoon. They would only have a few candle-marks of light to ride, and if they weren’t packed and mounted within the mark, then there’d be no point in starting out before morning.

To that end, he went to the kitchens while Niamh was occupied in her room, and had the cook pack some travel rations, a bottle of wine, a jug of mead, two skins of drinking water, and the names of Niamh’s favorite foods for his own cooks to make once they arrived. By the time Niamh arrived, ready to start the battle on that front, he was already prepared.

He caught her arm as soon as she ventured into the kitchen. “I’ve already had the cooks make us up some portions fer the journey, both in food and drink.”

Niamh scowled. “Ye cannae ken what I’d like.”

Alistair smirked at her as he guided her away from the kitchen, toward the stables. “I ken. ‘Tis why I had the cooks choose some o’ yer favorites that would travel well. Aye, and she’s had the steward write me out copies o’ yer favored recipes.”

“And what if I wanted something else? I’m fair partial tae stew, or honey cakes.”

“Then hope a tavern on the road has it, or ye can ask me cooks tae make them fer ye when we arrive – which we’ll nae be doin’ any time soon with the way yer behavin’.”

Niamh wrenched her arm free of his grasp. “Is this how ye plan tae treat me for the entirety o’ our relationship, Laird MacDuff? As if naething I want matters.”

Alistair snorted. “We both ken that’s not the issue. Ye’re delaying deliberately, and well I can tell it. Ye ken as well as I that ye’re actin’ like a spoiled wee bairn, pullin’ out all her toys afore deciding she wants none o’ them.”

He stepped closer to her. “Understand this, Niamh Cameron: I ken ye’re upset, and I ken why. I even agree ye’ve reason. But I wouldnae tolerate such behavior from a youngling, and I’ll certainly nae accept it from a woman grown who should ken better.”

“Put me in a corner then, if ye think ye can.”

“And let ye have yer way further? Nae a chance.” Alistair smirked coldly at her, before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Just be careful ye dinnae press me too far, me lady, fer yer small enough fer me tae turn over me knee if I’ve a mind. Keep actin’ the part o’ a bairn, and I’m nae afeared o’ treatin’ ye like one.”

Niamh scowled as Alistair all but dragged her toward the stables. Her cheeks were so hot she feared she might set the hay alight as they entered.

How dare he threaten her? And claiming she would be treated like a misbehaving child at that! She wasn’t sure whether the flush in her face was one of anger or embarrassment or both. She was sure, however, that she would find some way to make Alistair MacDuff pay for embarrassing her so.

Not to mention the high-handed way he’d ordered her servants about, telling them what to pack for her and how to pack it, as if she’d no mind or opinions of her own. Or worse, as if those opinions didn’t matter. It was true, she had been delaying them on purpose, but that was no reason to treat her with such disrespect.

She’d thought he might be exaggerating about not caring if she was angry, but it was clear that he hadn’t been jesting in the slightest. The knowledge made her stomach churn with resentment.

The first honest thing he’s said tae me, and it’s that he’s an unfeeling brute who couldnae care one whit about me feelings, toward him or anything else.

He might have gotten the better of her by going to the kitchens and having their travel supplies prepared before she could argue the matter, but she was determined not to make anything else easy for him.

They entered the stables together, and she immediately began planning how to make the process of saddling the horses harder. They’d need two or three, perhaps four.

Alistair approached one of the horses, and Niamh spoke up. “We cannae tak’ that one.”

Her betrothed gave her an unamused stare. “And why nae?”

There was no reason, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Me faither is likely tae need it fer riding patrol.”

“I doubt that, seein’ as this is the horse I rode tae Cameron Castle on. I had a groom send it up from the inn it was stabled at earlier taeday.”

Niamh blushed. “I didnae ken.”

“I gathered that.” With that, he turned to her father’s head groomsman. “I need three horses, good strong beasts who can carry a rider or a load equally well. Fer the lady’s peace o’ mind, best tae speak tae the War Leader and Laird Cameron about sparin’ them. If ye think ye cannae spare three, I’ll make do with two, or one if we must.”

“As ye will, me laird.” The groom bowed, and Niamh fumed at the realization that word had spread about her father’s visitor.

Well, she could take things into her own hands, if that was the case. She waited until Alistair had turned to get the saddle, then tugged the saddle blanket to the ground, letting it fall as though it might have been brushed askew by the horse.

Alistair turned and spotted the saddle blanket, and a scowl crossed his features. He set the saddle down, picked up the blanket to reposition it, then placed the saddle on the horse’s back. Niamh took the opportunity to reach out and tangle the strap for the saddle girth with the nearest stirrup. The horse snorted, and she pulled back before Alistair could see it.

He untangled the stirrup and strap with an irritated huff, and Niamh went for the bridle, tangling the reins and the straps before she jumped back.

The look on Alistair’s face when he saw the tangle of the bridle was well worth the risk of being caught. Niamh waited until his attention was focused on untangling the leather, then approached the horse once more, with the intention of loosening the straps so that the next attempt to mount would dump the rider in the dirt.

She was reaching for the buckle when a hand grabbed her wrist, and she looked up to see Alistair scowling down at her. “I thought ‘twas strange, the difficulties I was havin’. Ye ken I’ve been saddling horses since I was a lad, and I ken when there’s mischief bein’ done.”

“I just wanted…”

“Ye were just intending tae fox the saddle, so it would slide when I tried tae mount, is what ye were after.” Alistair’s jaw tightened. “I warned ye there’d be consequences for behavin’ like a child and a spoiled wee bairn.”

With that, he grabbed a spare lead rope. Before Niamh could properly guess what he was about, the rope was wrapped around both wrists, binding them securely together. The bonds weren’t tight enough to cut and chafe, but repeated tugging revealed there was no easy way to escape them either.

Alistair looked at his handiwork with an expression of grim satisfaction. “There, that should keep ye out o’ trouble.”

“Ye... ye cannae be serious!”

“I can and I am. I’m weary o’ yer mischief, lass, and I want tae get on the road while there’s daylight.” He turned and secured the other end of the rope to a beam, just out of her reach, and went back to saddling his horse.

Anger erupted in Niamh’s chest. “Dae ye intend tae treat me like a prisoner?”

“Aye. If I must. I asked ye tae cease yer antics. Since ye willnae, I’ll dae whatever I have tae, in order tae make ye behave.” He placed the bridle and cinched the saddle again, then turned to Niamh and cupped her burning face in one hand. “I said I’d tolerate an angry wife, and so I will. I dinnae demand ye act like a proper lady, Niamh Cameron, but I’ll nae have ye acting like a senseless, spoiled bairn.”

Niamh wrenched away. “Touch me like that again, and I’ll bite ye.”

To her surprise, Alistair laughed, a low, almost mirthless sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “I dae believe ye would. Though I warn ye, ye’ll find riding a trial if ye dae.”

Before she could frame a reply, he caught the reins in one hand, the rope in the other, and proceeded to boost her into the saddle before swinging up behind her. Niamh swayed, unable to balance properly. Then Alistair’s arms were around her, bracing her in the saddle, and she found herself leaning into his shoulder to steady herself as she clutched the front of the saddle. Her cheeks felt hot as coals, and she was sure she must be blushing fit to rival her father’s roses.

Out in the courtyard, the other horses were laden with packs, though one had a spare saddle for her. Her father was also there, watching with a clenched jaw and unhappy eyes.

For a moment Niamh considered asking him for help. She even opened her mouth to protest Alistair’s treatment. Then she remembered what her father had planned.

He’s the one who summoned this brute tae be me husband. Likely as nae, havin’ traded me betrothal fer gold, he’d nae protest if I was dragged away in chains.

It was an unfair thought, and an unkind one, but that didn’t stop her from lifting her chin and looking away from him.

“Niamh. Daughter.” She heard him call her name, pleading for a word or a glance, any sort of farewell. She kept her face forward, anger turning cold as ice as she ignored the entreaty.

Alistair leaned forward. “Best say yer farewells now lass. ‘Tis a long journey we have tae make, and ‘twill be longer still afore ye see yer faither again.”

“I dinnae care. I have naething tae say tae him.” Niamh hissed the words through clenched teeth, and steadfastly refused to acknowledge the tightness in her throat, the ache in her chest, and the stinging in her eyes.

“Last chance.”

“Good. ‘Twill save me the trouble o’ refusin’ again.” The thought of parting without a farewell hurt, but her pride and her anger were too great to let her face her father.

“As ye will. I can only hope ye dinnae regret it.” A motion and a word from Alistair, and the horse stepped forward into a dignified walk.

Two minutes later, they were past the gates, riding down the main path from the castle with the rest of the horses following behind them on a lead line. Within half a candle-mark, Cameron Castle was a small structure barely visible to her when she craned her neck around. By the time a candle-mark had passed, it was gone from sight and the two of them were alone.