Page 2 of In Bed with a Highland Brute

“I see the beach. That is all.”

“Look further,” the young woman urged.

As Lillie stretched her neck out, the girl saw her chance. She took a small step back then thrust into Lillie’s shoulders, trying to push her over the cliff.

“What are ye doing –?” Lillie cried and struggled on the edge. She reached back to the girl, gripping her, trying to stay up.

The young woman fought harder. Maybe Lillie was taller, but she was stronger. She took hold of Lillie’s elbows, grappling and tussling.

“What? Why are ye doing this? Nay. Nay!” Lillie screamed as the woman stamped down on her foot. It dislodged Lillie’s footing on the cliff edge. She toppled backward, falling out into the open air as the woman released her and scurried back.

She saw Lillie disappear, falling through the air, but she hung back. She couldn’t bear to see the impact on the beach. There were a few seconds of dead air, the scream piercing, competing with the cries of the gulls and the cormorants that had made their nests within the cliffs, then there was a loud thud and the shout stopped dead.

Slowly, the young woman stepped forward, moving back to the edge of the cliff. Lillie had landed on the beach. Her head was turned at an unnatural angle, her hair wild about her ears and her skirt tangling in the wind.

“Now, there will be nay wedding.”

CHAPTER ONE

Chattan Castle, Highlands, 1762

“Are ye certain ye wish me tae read this?” Ian asked, waving the letter in the air.

“Aye,” Murdoch said gravely as he pulled out a fresh shirt from the oak coffer and moved to the standing looking glass to see his own reflection.

“One of these days, I could just teach ye tae read, ye ken that?” Ian’s voice was soft, the kind of tone that he only ever showed Murdoch behind closed doors. In public, Ian was always loud and jesting, constantly smiling, even more so since he had married his wife Aila, the year before.

“I ken, but when would ye have time?” Murdoch said, forcing the jest from his lips. “Ye spend so many hours of yer day with that wife of yers.” He glanced in the mirror’s reflection, looking at his friend.

Ian laughed, tipping his head back and making the dark blond hair around his ears dance.

“Well, I could hardly argue that she is easy tae stay away from, could I?”

They smiled together as Murdoch fidgeted with his shirt in his hands. He’d since discovered that when Aila had first come to the Laird Chattan’s castle, the Laird being Ian’s brother Noah, that she’d had something of a liking for Murdoch.

I never could return that affection. Nay, I will never care for a woman again.

In the end, everything had worked out for the best. Aila and Ian had grown closer and fallen in love. In his darkest moments Murdoch might admit he felt some envy over their happiness together, but it always lasted only a short while. It wasn’t the kind of happiness he could have in his own life.

“Right, here we go, I’ll read it fer ye.” Ian waved the letter in the air then cleared his throat, as if preparing to give some great speech as an orator.

Murdoch paused with his shirt, looking at his own reflection in the mirror. The scars on his broad chest were strongly visible in the evening light, the white gashes slashing across his skin. He seemed to get scars readily these days and had barely survived some of the wounds he’d received these last few years, but he was a soldier, and they were his occupational hazard.

Hurrying to pull the shirt on over his head, he looked at the black hair that curled at his temple, wild and refusing to lay flat and neat. His eyes were almost as dark as his hair, and he’d seen more than one person in his life leap back from him when they looked in his eyes, afraid of him.

“Are ye listening?” Ian called.

“Nay. My apologies, please, read again.” Murdoch didn’t want people to know he couldn’t read. It was an embarrassment, and Ian was one of the only two people in this world who knew Murdoch had never been taught, the other being Ian’s brother, Laird Noah Chattan, the man Murdoch fought for as one of his clan soldiers.

“Ye are distracted,” Ian said, walking across the chamber and moving toward Murdoch as he pulled a waistcoat over his shoulders. “Would it have something tae dae with admiring yer reflection?” Ian teased him with a chuckle.

“More like wanting tae run and hide from it.” Murdoch turned his back on the mirror and waved a hand impatiently at Ian. “What does it say?”

Ian cleared his throat once more and turned his attention to the letter.

“‘My son, it is time ye came home. I ken these last five years havenae been easy. The wee man above us all only kens what ye have felt after all that happened tae ye, but we cannae run from our ghosts ferever. At least now I have good news tae tell ye, good news that I hope ye will come home tae celebrate.

Yer brother Clyde is returning from war, serving our king, at last. Upon his return, we will celebrate his betrothal tae Harper, and the two families shall be joined at last. Through the alliance of the clans, our own will be stronger…” Ian trailed off and lowered the letter.