Pledged to a Highlander Read online

  “I don’t care who ordered it,” Royden spat, stopping Oria from arguing with him. He’d have his way. To hell with the power hungry fiend. He looked to Fergus. “You brought a cleric with you. Wed us now and be done with it.”

  “No doubt the orders came from the King. He would just annul the marriage,” Oria argued, worried what the King would do to Royden for interfering in his plans.

  Fergus burst out laughing and Royden and Oria stared at him in disbelief.

  “You claim Oria is a friend, yet you find it humorous that she is being forced to wed once again?” Royden asked anger marking his every word.

  “Aye, I do—since it’s you she’s being forced to wed.” Fergus laughed even louder.

  Chapter 4

  “Is this a game you play, Fergus?” Royden demanded, the news having shocked him. Or was it that he was relieved that he and Oria would finally be husband and wife as it had been planned? But it wasn’t by choice. Would she marry him otherwise?

  “Not at all. I have the document to prove it, the royal seal affixed. While I don’t think either of you will object, since you were to wed at one time, I must tell you that it is a condition of your release. You must wed Oria or you will be returned to the mercenaries.”

  Oria rushed to say, “I’ll wed Royden.”

  Did Oria sacrifice to save him? This wasn’t the way they were to wed, forced to save either of themselves. If they loved each other, what did it matter? That was the question that gnawed at him. Much had changed in five years. He certainly had and Oria had had a husband, a good husband from what she had said. How would marriage be for both of them now?

  “Good, then we’ll get it done,” Fergus said.

  A thought occurred to Royden. “I was told someone made a deep sacrifice for my release. If that is so, why then would the King interfere?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not privy to how your release came about. I follow the orders sent to me,” Fergus said.

  “By the King or the one who commands you?” Royden demanded his temper flaring.

  “I won’t stand here and argue with you about it. It’s your choice. Wed Oria or return to the mercenaries,” Fergus said with a touch of anger.

  It wasn’t lost on Royden that Fergus didn’t protest that someone commanded him. There was more to what was going on with his release than he was being told. Had the leader of the mercenaries struck a bargain with the King, but if that was so there was no reason for anyone to sacrifice for his release. None of it made sense and that made him want to find out what was truly going on.

  “Wed us now. I will not see Royden taken from his home again,” Oria commanded with such strength and determination that both men’s brows shot up.

  “I don’t need you to defend me,” Royden snapped out of sheer pride that she would be saving him.

  “Since you’ve gotten so stubborn and prideful, then wed me so I won’t be homeless,” she said.

  That rankled him even more since she sacrificed her own pride for him. “Are you begging me to wed you?”

  “Aye, if that is what it will take for you not to be foolhardy,” she said, her tongue as curt as his.

  “I should—”

  “Refuse me and leave me homeless?” she challenged, her green eyes blazing brightly.

  Royden didn’t hide his anger and he spoke to her as he never thought he would. “Your tongue has grown sharp over the years, woman.”

  “No, my tongue has grown wiser over the years. It’s a shame yours hasn’t.”

  Fergus wisely moved out of the way of the two, stepping to the side and glad he was that he did, since Royden vaulted over the table with the agility and strength of a seasoned warrior. A surprising feat for a man with one hand.

  Royden went to stand directly in front of Oria. “You’ve changed and not for the better.”

  “And what of you, Royden. Who is it that I marry, since you certainly aren’t the kind and loving man I once knew and loved?”

  He leaned down, his nose almost touching hers. “You’re about to find out.” He turned away from her. “Fetch the cleric, Fergus, and let’s get this done.”

  Oria went and sat on the bench at the table, fearful her trembling legs wouldn’t hold her up much longer. She kept her head up and her shoulders erect, letting no one see the worry that had taken hold of her. Never had she imagined she’d be forced to wed Royden. Force would never be necessary, not to wed the man she loved. But was he still that man? Did she truly know who she wed?

  She took light breaths to calm her turmoil. This was what she had wanted for as long as she could remember—to be Royden’s wife. The circumstances were not as she had imagined them to be, but her love for him hadn’t changed even if he had. But would her love be enough? Or would she find herself wed to a stranger?

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Bethany.

  “I am happy for you both. You and Royden were always meant for each other. All will be good now,” Bethany said with a joyous smile.

  Oria wished she had the woman’s confidence. However, as she stood at the cleric’s approach, her legs—weak from trembling—reminded otherwise.

  It was a quick ceremony. Fergus and Bethany were the only witnesses to it. Royden signed the document Fergus presented to him, and it was done.

  She and Royden were husband and wife. She should have been happy but she felt more relieved than anything. Royden was safe and she wasn’t homeless. Not thoughts a new bride would expect to have on her wedding day.

  “Fergus and I have things to discuss, and there are things I must see to. We’ll talk later,” Royden said, dismissing her and turned to walk away with Fergus.

  “Since the day has you occupied, I’ll ride to Learmonth and see to gathering my possessions and return before nightfall,” Oria said.

  Royden swerved around to face her. “You will not go anywhere. I’ll send someone to see to it. You will remain here.”

  “I prefer to see to it myself and let those at Learmonth know I won’t be returning,” Oria said, annoyed that he dictated to her.

  She had been blessed with the gift of freedom from Burnell. He never dictated to her or made demands of her. In a way, he had spoiled her giving her such freedom and she hadn’t realized it until this moment.

  “Whether you prefer it or not, I forbid it,” Royden ordered sharply and once again dismissed her by turning away.

  “You forbid me to go?” she asked, his dictate stirring her anger.

  “Aye, forbid,” he reiterated with emphasis, annoyed she questioned him in front of Fergus.

  “Come, my lady, I will fix you a nice brew,” Bethany said.

  “Oria no longer bears the title,” Royden reminded with annoyance. “She’s simply mistress now.” He turned to Fergus. “Come, there are things to discuss.”

  Oria hurried after him and once outside she saw him stop and speak to a lad of about ten years and the lad ran toward her horse while her husband and Fergus continued on.

  “Come, Mistress Oria, a chill fills the air. Come in and sit by the fire and enjoy a hot brew,” Bethany encouraged, having followed her outside.

  “Not right now, Bethany.” Without a glance toward the woman, Oria hurried toward the lad who was about to take the reins of her horse. “Leave her be, lad,” she ordered.

  “Chieftain Royden ordered me to tend the horse,” the lad said.

  Oria took the reins from him. “I will let the chieftain know I chose to do the task myself. Go and see if Bethany has a treat for you.” She looked to Bethany. “He needs a treat.”

  Bethany nodded with a smile and waved the lad to her, though her eyes sent a warning to Oria that she ignored.

  Without an ounce of doubt to her actions, Oria mounted her horse and took off, and she didn’t take her time going through the village. She set a fast pace and flew right past her husband.

  Royden and Fergus stumbled out of her way, almost tumbling to the ground.

  Fergus laughed. “You’re goi
ng to have your hands full with that one.”

  Royden looked around for a horse.

  “Take mine,” Fergus offered, pointing to a chestnut colored stallion.

  Royden didn’t hesitate. He threw himself up on the horse and took off.

  Penn approached Fergus and they both watched him.

  “He handles himself far better than I expected for a one-handed man,” Fergus said.

  “He’s no fool. He already suspects I am here to provide information to the leader of the mercenaries,” Penn said.

  “You like your new home, Penn?” Fergus asked.

  “I do. And I love my wife and look forward to our bairn being born,” Penn admitted.

  “Then do what you’re told so you don’t lose what you love just as I am doing,” Fergus said.

  Royden couldn’t believe Oria had disobeyed him. She’d always been compliant, never arguing with him, always thoughtful and agreeable. Where had that woman gone? And how had she learned to ride with such skill and confidence—and speed?

  He raced to catch up with her, glad Fergus’s horse had speed of his own. They were racing across an open meadow and the land spread out beyond offered slight hills that wouldn’t slow her down much. If he didn’t reach her before then, he doubted he would be able to catch her.

  He crouched over the horse and picked up speed. It wasn’t easy to pluck someone off a racing horse or jump onto one from another racing horse, and at one time, he didn’t have the skill or the confidence to attempt either feat. But the time came when he had had no choice, necessity had dictated it and anger had driven him. If he hadn’t taken a chance, Arran would have died. After that time, he didn’t fear attempting either feat again and again and again, until he was skilled enough to do so with confidence rather than fear.

  Anger drove him once again. He had forbid Oria to leave and she had defied him. She would learn that was something he wouldn’t tolerate.

  He caught up with her and it took only a few moments to adjust to her pace and another moment to determine timing and then—he threw himself off his horse to land directly behind his wife. His left arm hooked her around the waist to yank her snugly against him while his right hand took hold of the reins and brought the horse under his control. He worked the reins to slow the mare’s pace. Fergus’s horse slowed on his own accord to a trot before circling back to join him.

  Oria struggled against him to no avail. She didn’t recall him being that strong or his muscles that taut. His muscles seemed as hard as the metal anvil the smithies pounded their hammers against. She shivered, realizing it was impossible and useless to defend herself against him.

  She was glad when he brought the horse to a halt, though not when he dismounted and hooking her waist once again, he swung her off after his feet had barely touched the ground. She stumbled against him, hitting his hard chest before his hand took tight hold of her arm and shook her.

  “Where are your senses, woman?” he berated.

  “You have no right to dictate to me,” she accused, her chest heaving from her heavy breaths.

  “That right became mine when we exchanged vows,” he reminded. “You will obey my word. I’ll have it no other way.”

  “Then you’ll be disappointed.”

  His anger had him wanting to thrash her into submission, but he had never raised a hand to her and he never would. Only cowards hit women and he was far from a coward.

  He yanked Oria against him and dropped his head so their noses almost touched. “Listen well, woman, you will heed my word.”

  Oria pressed her nose against his. “Or what?”

  Something happened at that moment. She didn’t know how, what, or why and she didn’t care. She only knew that by some small shred of hope or some miracle she spied the man she loved in Royden and it was like the shattered pieces of her heart began to piece together.

  “Royden,” she whispered and pressed her lips to his.

  Her kiss was like a shock to his soul, it slammed through him battering anything that stood in its way until it hit him deep. He couldn’t resist if he wanted to and he didn’t want to. He had dreamt endlessly of her lips and how they would feel again and they didn’t disappoint.

  Her lips were gentle, curious, and aching for more as she urged his lips to respond. If he did, he feared he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let her go. He warned himself to be careful, take it slow, but the unquenched ache he had had for her all those years rose up and took control.

  His hand went to the back of her neck, his fingers digging up through her hair to grip the back of her head as his lips took control of hers.

  Never had Royden kissed her with such possessiveness. Never had she known such a kiss possible. His lips held such strength and his tongue such purpose as it delved into her mouth and while forceful, by no means did he force her. She responded with equal enthusiasm. Her passion ignited so rapidly that it sent darts of pleasure poking at the most intimate of places. It caught her so unaware it robbed her of her breath and he must have realized it, since to her great disappointment, his lips left hers. She was relieved—her moan—evidence of it when he nibbled along her bottom lip, plump with passion and down along her neck, nipping at her tender flesh with his teeth and lips and sending gooseflesh prickling her skin.

  Good Lord, she had missed this man.

  His lips returned to hers, his kiss bruising, demanding as if he couldn’t get enough, but then either could she. It was as though they tried to make up for the wasted years that had separated them.

  Her body ached for him as it had done when he was gone. She had had the memories but they had been torture, recalling his kiss, his touch, and she had berated herself for not having made love with him, for having waited for a wedding night that never came.

  His hand left the back of her head and to her surprise he grabbed her hand and reached down with it to slip under his plaid and lay against his hard manhood. He kept his hand over hers, not letting her move it. His shaft swelled against her palm—already so thick she wondered how it could grow any bigger—and seemed to pulse with a life of its own. It was velvet soft and she instinctively squeezed it, and Royden groaned.

  He dropped his head back for a mere second, then placed his brow against hers. “I want to throw you to the ground and jam myself deep inside you over and over and over until you overflow with my seed.”

  She was surprised again that his words thrilled her and at the heavy wetness she felt between her legs. She was as eager to feel him inside her as he was to be there.

  He shoved her away from him and took several steps back. “I’m not the mannerly man you once knew and loved. If anything, I’m more a savage. I’ve killed, beaten, looted, and stuck my shaft into more women than I can recall. Until I can control my savage instincts, you are to stay away from me. Now get on your horse.”

  Oria took a step toward him.

  “Get on your horse!” he shouted at her.

  She did as he ordered, the threat in his tone warning against disobeying him, and he got on his horse.

  Royden brought his horse near to hers. “Do not challenge me, disobey me, tempt me. Do I make myself clear?”

  She nodded.

  “We return home.”

  “Please, let me go to Learmonth and gather my things. I don’t have much. It won’t take long. Also, a few of your clansmen came to stay at Learmonth and when they learned you returned they asked to go home. I could bring them with me when I return. Please, Royden, I need this.” She hated to sound like she begged, but she needed time away from him—if only for a few hours—to try to make sense of it all.

  He stared at her, the taste of her still on his lips and his shaft still swollen from the touch of her hand. He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her with him—a dangerous thought.

  “Go, but don’t be long,” he said.

  Fearful she would fall into a heap of tears, she hurried to say, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I do what is necessary, otherwise you wou
ld be down on the ground your legs spread wide for me. Remember that when you think to tempt the savage in me.”

  He rode off and she hurried in the opposite direction, not seeing him stop and look back at her, not knowing how much he hurt.

  Chapter 5

  Oria stretched herself awake. It had been two days since she wed Royden and he had done everything he could to avoid her. She’d been placed in the chieftain’s bedchamber, but Royden hadn’t joined her there. He had continued to sleep in his bedchamber, the one she would have shared with him when they first were to wed. She worried that their marriage wasn’t truly sealed without consummating it, which meant it could be dissolved far too easily. She didn’t want that, but how she would solve the problem, she didn’t know.

  She had thought endlessly about the incident between them the other day. That he thought himself a savage disturbed her. She didn’t believe Royden could ever be a savage. He had been made to do things to survive just as she had been, though he had suffered far worse than she had. That time, however, was over. They could build a good life together. The only thing she could think to do to make that possible was to get to know the man Royden had become and show him that she loved him just as much as the man he had been.

  She bounced out of bed eager to start the day, to move forward with the plan to get to know her husband. The first step was not letting him avoid her.

  At least, she was happy here amongst people familiar to her, people who cared for her. Burnell’s clan had been overrun with warriors unfamiliar to all and they had made little friends with the clansmen. She had never felt at home at Learmonth and it was good to finally feel at home once again.

  She hurried into a pale yellow shift and slipped a dark green tunic over it. She pulled on her boots, planning on tracking down her husband who’d been spending a good portion of his day outside, if weather permitted. Otherwise, he cloistered himself in the solar. She gathered her honey-blonde hair up on the top of her head with a couple of bone combs, though couldn’t keep several strands from falling free. At least it would be out of her way. She used the water in the bucket Bethany had brought to her to scrub her face fresh, leaving her cheeks glowing. She smiled at the dried mint in the small bowl near the bucket, recalling how Raven had told her about Bethany teaching her how to keep her breath fresh with it. Oria was grateful Bethany had extended her the same courtesy.