In The Warrior's Bed. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
on our winter stocks the moment he returns.”
“Aye, that’s what I was thinking.” Brodick held his tongue for a long moment.
Cullen stared at his brother. “What?”
Brodick merely raised an eyebrow.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
Brodick shrugged. “Nothing.”
Cullen snorted. “Well, it sure looks like something.”
Brodick aimed a hard look at him. “Ye seem to be watching my family a lot. It looks like ye enjoy the sight of it, too.”
“Is there something wrong with that? Would ye rather I brought a mistress home with me?”
Brodick shook his head. “I was thinking that there was something right about it.”
“Get to yer point, brother, before I have to knock it out of ye.”
“I was thinking that it is time to petition the king for a possible marriage between ye and Bronwyn McQuade.”
Cullen stared at his brother. The teasing tone of their conversation died instantly. His brother might hold the title but the family was strong because they worked together to ensure that the McJames clan remained powerful.
Brodick ran a hand over his chin. “It’s a sure thing that McQuade will no deal with either of us on the matter.”
“Which leaves Jamie.”
Their monarch might decide to grant them the match. If for no other reason than to rid himself of the headache McQuade caused with his endless ranting. Cullen’s mother had been betrothed to the man but he’d lost her contract in a game of dice. McQuade still held a grudge against every McJames. His men raided and burned their farms every season. It was also a sure bet that some of his neighbors were thinking the same thing. Everyone knew McQuade had a single daughter and that she was of a good age for marriage. It wouldn’t be the first time a laird’s son took a wife based on the peace it might ensure over his lands.
“It would be a good match, I agree. I’ll think upon it.”
His brother nodded, not pressing the issue. Cullen rose and strode through the hall. His brother’s faith in him weighed more on his shoulders than any well-rehearsed words might have. Brodick held his tongue because he trusted that Cullen would do right by the McJames people. As the son of the last laird it was his duty to place the welfare of the clan above his own wishes.
Even if that meant marrying a shrew.
Cullen didn’t stop at the double doors that led to the inner yard. He kept walking, his legs covering the yard in a quick pace.
A loving family sounded good but not binding himself to a demon hellcat that would likely carve his eyes out if he fell asleep in her bed. Bronwyn McQuade was her father’s daughter, born and reared to hate every drop of McJames blood flowing through his veins. Marrying for the good of the clan was one thing, but taking Bronwyn to his bed promised a life of misery. Even his brother had better hopes for his marriage and his bride had been English.
“I’ll fetch yer Argyll.” One of the younger lads that tended the horses was already running for his horse before Cullen realized he’d gained the stables.
With a grunt he shook his head. He was in a fine state, that was for sure. So deep in thought that he didn’t know where his feet were taking him. The lad returned with Argyll, quite possibly the finest horse in Scotland. Reaching for his head, Cullen offered the beast a firm rub between the eyes. The animal snorted, stamping at the ground.
“Aye, I agree with ye.”
Argyll liked to run and at the moment Cullen wanted to feel the slap of the Scottish wind against his face as well. Tugging on the saddle, he made sure it was solid before swinging up into it. Argyll shifted, snorting with his excitement. Cullen held the reins in a tight grasp, keeping the stallion still.
“Milord.” The stable lad ran forward with a leather bag.
“Aye, lad, that’s what I’m waiting for.”
Cullen held Argyll steady as the lad tied the bag onto the rear of the saddle. It was the simplest of provisions. Oats, wine, and maybe some bread left from the midday meal. Leaving Sterling without it was a choice designed to see his belly rumbling by sundown. The boy finished his task and backed away from Argyll. Cullen flashed him a grin. He was a young lad but he had courage. McJames courage. Argyll was a powerful animal, one with the strength to kill the lad but he wasna afraid of the stallion.
Shrugging, Cullen felt the weight of his sword. It was strapped to his back, highland style. With a flick of the reins, he gave Argyll his freedom. The animal headed for the main gate, his hooves picking up speed as they neared the opening in the main wall that surrounded Sterling Castle.
Argyll charged forward, leaving the walls behind. The wind was brisk, hinting at winter. But the hills were still green and giving the stallion his head allowed Cullen to release his mental burden for a time. He pulled Argyll to a stop some time later. Looking down over the next valley, Cullen frowned.
He’d been here before. Summoned in the dark of night to defend the farmers below. There were three newly thatched roofs in sight, the reeds a brighter yellow than that of the others. It was a blunt reminder of the McQuade’s lust for revenge. The man was nae content with plunder, his retainers always set the flame to the farms they attacked. The feud was near thirty-five years old now.
It seemed too simple to think that one wedding might wipe all that bitterness aside.
Kneeing Argyll forward, Cullen left the valley behind without a care for the sinking sun. He pressed onward and up the next ridge. Pulling up on the reins, he listened carefully. Only the wind whistled but he had to be sure. McQuade retainers would delight in hauling him back to their laird as a prize. Dismounting, he climbed the last few measures of the hill on foot. Staying low, he gazed down onto his enemy’s land.
Wedding Bronwyn would only end the feud when her father was dead. Peering down into the valley below, he noted there was nothing but tall grass and heather swaying in the breeze. No one dared farm the land here because it was so often in the path of raids. A river ran through it and twisted among the rocks. It was good land and a testament to just how much the bitterness between the two neighbors cost. McQuade was so busy waging war, he was passing up the opportunity to have his land worked.
No marriage would dissolve that sort of hatred.
Not that the man would ever willingly give his only daughter over to a McJames. A sheepish grin worked over his lips. It was a pure shame that the lass didn’t attend court. Wooing her might be fun. Asking the king for her dinna interest him but seducing her sounded like fun.
Of course, Jamie didn’t allow hellcats in his court. That likely accounted for the fact that Bronwyn McQuade had never stepped foot in the presence of her king.
His thoughts faded as a rider entered the valley below him. Argyll snorted, shifting as the large horse lifted his nose to smell the air. Patting the thick neck of the animal, Cullen grinned. Gripping the saddle, Cullen swung back on top of Argyll. Getting caught on his feet was certainly no a good idea.
“What do ye smell, my friend? A pretty mare?”
Argyll stamped at the ground, taking a few steps before Cullen pulled him to a halt. He couldn’t blame Argyll. No a bit. On top of that mare was a female that his own body approved of. Now, he’d always appreciated a pretty lass but this one was something more. He wasn’t sure just what drew his attention so keenly. It wasna her face. She wasn’t plain but neither was she a great beauty. He’d bedded a few lasses that were true beauties.
It was the way she rode the mare. Like she was as free as the flakes of snow floating in the air. His grip slacked and Argyll took advantage, moving down the slope toward the mare. The rider hadn’t seen them yet. She was too absorbed in her moment of escape. Aye that was it, what drew his attention. She looked like she had no a care in the world and knew what