Lyn Stone - The Highland Wife

Eyes wide with fascination, she watched MacBain as he checked the horses for injury and resettled the packs on their saddles. The man had no shame whatsoever!

Of course, he thought there was none to see him save his manservant, who appeared to be sleeping, Mairi reminded herself. But did he not remember that she must come out of the woods soon? Did he want her to see him so exposed?

Her face flamed at the sight, but she could not tear her gaze away. What muscles he had, she thought as they flexed in his arms, shoulders and even his backside. Ah, that backside was something to see!

Her hands clenched, imagining the smooth feel of all that sun-kissed skin. The desire to touch him all but overcame her….

Praise for a few of Lyn Stone’s previous works

Bride of Trouville

“I could not stop reading this one…. Don’t miss this winner!”

—Affaire de Coeur

The Knight’s Bride

“Stone has done herself proud with this delightful story…a cast of endearing characters and a fresh, innovative plot.”

—Publishers Weekly

The Wicked Truth

“Stone has an apt hand with dialogue and creates characters with a refreshing naturalness.”

—Publishers Weekly

The Highland Wife

Harlequin Historical #551

#552 ANNE’S PERFECT HUSBAND

Gayle Wilson

#553 LONGSHADOW’S WOMAN

Bronwyn Williams

#554 LILY GETS HER MAN

Charlene Sands

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The Wicked Truth #358

The Arrangement #389

The Wilder Wedding #413

The Knight’s Bride #445

Bride of Trouville #467

One Christmas Night #487 “Ian’s Gift”

My Lady’s Choice #511

The Highland Wife #551

Other works include:

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Beauty and the Badge #952

Live-In Lover #1055

Special thanks to my son, Eric, for providing inspiration and informal signs, to my daughter, Pamela, for her encouragement, and to my husband, Allen, for everything.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

The Highlands

Summer 1335

What the devil was he doing in this place? He did not need a wife this desperately, Robert MacBain told himself. Yet here he rode, into the very heart of the unfamiliar. Into these alien hills, to wed an unseen betrothed who was likely more apprehensive than he was about the whole matter.

Yet he was obliged to carry through. Thomas de Brus had traveled far and spent half a year arranging this marriage, urgently driven to it because his sister had spurned Rob and broken their lifelong betrothal. Rob had not the heart to refuse his friend and leave him with that guilt, but now he wished he had waited for Thomas to recover and come with him. The date of Rob’s arrival had been agreed upon, however. His bride awaited.

So here he was, facing the only terror that ever plagued him. The unknown. The makings of his worst nightmares. This was not a fear he would ever admit aloud. Nor a thing he would avoid.

He glanced around and up at the harsh gray peaks that defined the Highlands. This forbidding region looked so different from the Midlothian he called home. Neither did it bear any resemblance to the various places on the Continent he had visited to participate in tournaments with his brother Henri.

Rob had no wish to be in this place, yet its peculiar scents and incredible beauty fascinated him nonetheless. He decided he must dwell upon the favorable aspects of this journey instead of his dread.

Would his Highland bride hold true with her surroundings? Would she differ so greatly from the women he had explored in the past? Would she beguile, or repel him? Or perhaps do both at once, as did her homeland?

The sharp blade of anticipation sliced through his apprehension. While that did not banish it altogether, it certainly made it more manageable. The woman might make all this worthwhile. Thomas had promised she was quite beautiful as well as congenial.

He inhaled a deep breath of the cool, crisp air and shook his head to clear it of the useless musing. Whether he liked the lass or not, she would be his wife. His family and Thomas would cease worrying about him then. Rob needed to get an heir from some woman. If he could not have the lady meant for him, he might as well take this one since Tom had gone to so much trouble.

His man, Newton, reined his cob and waited until Rob rode abreast. “Craigmuir’s just through yon hills, milord.” He pointed ahead, off to the right. “Would you care to rest? Tidy yourself?” Newt made a scrubbing motion on his chest and cocked his brow. “Your bride awaits!”

The merry grin Newton wore told Rob how begrimed he looked after a week’s travel in the same garb.

“There’s a burn up ahead we must cross to get there.”

Rob nodded and rode past Newton. Their mounts picked up the pace to a trot, scenting the water.

His father had taught him that in any confrontation, Rob should appear as though he already conquered the world. Thus far, the advice had served him well. It would today.

“He comes! He comes!” cried the sentry on the wall. Corby was all but leaping about with glee as he pointed toward the south.

Mairi MacInness refused to play overeager. Especially when everyone else at Craigmuir acted as though Christmas mummers were expected. She supposed they had good enough reason for their excitement, with the feast and merrymaking imminent. For them it would be a grand holiday. As for herself, she would reserve judgment until she saw whether she had any good cause to celebrate.

Her father joined her on the steps to the hall. “Best you wait inside, dove,” he advised her. “I would meet him first.”

Mairi complied, but she did not go far, certainly not to her chamber to await being summoned. Instead, she went to the small chamber her father used to tally his accounts and store his books. From there, she would be able to see all that took place within the hall without being seen.

She wanted no surprises. If the man proved loathsome, this would allow her time to prepare a proper reaction when they were introduced.

While waiting, Mairi once again straightened the neck of her chemise, smoothed her skirts, rearranged the belt, her chatelaine and the simple scabbard that held her eating knife. Satisfied that she appeared as presentable as possible, she then kept avid watch upon the hall door.

Her eyes grew wide with wonder when at last she saw him enter. Mercy, he did look impressive. Taller even than her sire, he was, and quite a contrast to her cousin Ranald. She had hoped never to see that one again. He’d arrived late, but there he came now, hurrying to catch up to her father and the newcomer as they crossed the hall.