Page 5 of The Son of a Highland Witch
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He was more impressive than even she had been led to believe.
From atop her palfrey, Erica studied the stranger, biting her lip until she drew blood. Botheration, it was hard to see from there, but any further out from under the trees and she would be seen, and she had come specifically here to study the situation. Why could her betrothed not come for her himself? This was the man her father and Jamie Buchanan had chosen to escort her to her new home. It was said one could tell a great deal about a man from the company he kept; still, Erica had overheard the servants talking about the man the two lairds had considered to be the best one to accompany her from her old home to her new home.
If such were the case, this was quite some clan she would be marrying into.
The man riding toward the castle was a veritable giant. Never had she seen such broad shoulders, nor so heavy a muscle upon a human arm. From here, his face seemed to be all sharp angles and planes, not handsome in the classical sense, but absolutely riveting if contrast and hypnotizing features drew one’s eye. That was if the warrior’s height had not already done so. His spiked hair glinted white like ice in the sun, and his shaven jawline thrust forward in a way that suggested determination in its aggressive angularity.
Even more interesting was his great plaid. What manner of a man wore a plaid so dark it might well be black? Never had she seen the pattern, and it left her unsettled, mystified.
Erica swallowed hard as she watched him ride, at one with the horse, arms relaxed and easy at his side, though she had no doubt he was well skilled with the sword he carried. He had the look of a warrior, like her father’s men, and at the same time, somehow superior to them all.
This was an example of the type of man her father kept at his beck and call? What would that make her laird?
Erica drew back a little, sparing a quick glance in the general direction of her maid, who was equally agape. Gertrude stood up in her horse’s saddle, craning her neck to see; it was a wonder she did not land in the mud.
Erica snorted, thankful she was not so crass as all that in her interest. Yonder mountain of a man was interesting but not worth such a rapt stare, despite his clean-shaven cheek, nor the keenness of his glance as he rode past their hiding spot, looking for all the world as if he knew where they were. There was too much intellect to this man for him to be a mere envoy sent out upon an errand. Perhaps it was the aura of darkness, of danger he carried. As though some dark magic clung to him, giving him knowledge he had no right to have.
I am being silly. As though he has kent me well and already formed his judgment of me without even laying eyes upon my face.
Erica tossed her head. She reminded herself there was no way he could know the first thing about her. The trees concealed her well. She had chosen to hang back, thankful she was where the man could not see her flushed cheeks or the way her breath caught in her throat as she watched his arrival.
“We must needs return,” she said suddenly to her maid, wheeling her mare around once the man had ridden past. She told herself the growing warmth between her thighs was only evidence of her excitement. After all, this rider marked the beginning of her wedding journey. Quite soon she would meet her new husband and know the secrets of what it meant to truly be a wife.
“My lady?” Gertrude asked, her voice a raw squeak, her movements clumsy as she tried to gain the attention of her mount, who was making short work of the sparse grasses beneath the trees.
“Home. We will take the shortcut. I would arrive before the stranger does.”
There was no time for argument. Erica set her mount at a headlong pace over the countryside, not even taking time for the gate at the walls which lay between this road and her father’s castle. Her horse gamely leaped them all, leaving her maid clutching at the mane of her mount, shrieking in fear as the animal scrambled to keep up.
They arrived back in the courtyard in a mad clatter of hooves on cobblestones, both animals lathered and breathing hard. Erica dismounted quickly, throwing the reins of her horse to the stableboy, who came running to greet them. Gertrude slithered from the saddle and stood wavering on the pavement next to her horse as though her legs were not quite able to support her properly.
They had barely made it in time. They arrived moments before their guest did.
Quicker than she expected, a crowd gathered in the courtyard to watch the stranger dismount. Erica pushed through the crowd to a better vantage point, one where she wouldn’t be too obvious. Any moment now, her father would come out to greet the man, and if he saw her there, he’d no doubt send her to her room until all the fun was over.
Gertrude followed behind, panting from the effort of keeping up and muttering under her breath about headstrong young ladies. As though they were not of an age.
“They say he’s part wolf, part man—able to switch ’tween the two forms at will!” a man whispered to his wife as they passed.
Erica paused to see if this was so. She stopped so abruptly that poor Gertrude plowed right into the back of her, sending her stumbling out from the circle of bystanders, almost to the man in question. Another said, “One bite from that mouth, an’ a lass no longer cares about which one is man and which one is the wolf!”
For a long moment, they stared at one another. Erica could see it then, the wildness in his eyes, the unsettled way he stood as though he would rather be anywhere other than there, on display for the entire castle to see. He drew back, nostrils flaring as though he were a wild thing, barely tamed, lips tightening in disapproval as he took in the girl before him. His gaze raked over her from head to toe, his expression proving, if anything, that he found her wanting.
“I…I beg your pardon,” Erica murmured, quite put out by the frank assessment, and turned to go, telling herself it made no difference how well-muscled his arms were or how incredibly large his hands were when he obviously held her in disdain.
Of course, he had no idea who she was.
Or did he? She recognized him now, remembering him vaguely from his other visits to their castle. Had he not been there before, in the spring? She hadn’t been near him then and had not realized how large a man he was, probably because she’d only ever seen him mounted or off by himself.
Erica’s lips pursed as she slipped through the crowd, no longer interested in staying. She knew all she needed to. It was doubtless this was the man who had brought the offer for her from her new betrothed. Because of the nature of his previous errand, there was no doubt he had guessed exactly who she was. That he did not approve of his laird’s choice for a bride could not have been more obvious.
It would be a long and tedious journey then, made worse by the realization that much as her marriage might have sounded good on paper, becoming the bride of a laird (or one who would be laird someday if she wanted to keep her thoughts more accurate) would be another matter entirely. Until this moment, it had never occurred to her that she would not be loved and accepted by all under the laird’s rule.
No longer interested in the stranger, Erica left her maid behind and found a circuitous way into the castle, hoping that so much attention would be upon the dark rider that none would pay any notice to her. She was far too put out to want to see anyone until she had worked through exactly how she felt about this new development.
To her surprise, for all Erica’s care, she was caught out anyway. She’d thought to sneak through the great hall while everyone was gawking in the courtyard, only to find her parents seated there, waiting for the man to be brought to them.
