Page 1 of Highland Seduction

Chapter 1

Castle Shaw, Scotland, 1245

“If he makes her unhappy, even once, I will kill him.”

Tor ignored the look his older brother gave him.

“Ye’ll no’ kill him,” Royce said. “Or threaten to do so again. Now lower yer voice. There are eyes and ears everywhere here.”

They watched as the happy couple left the hall to become husband and wife in truth. Tor turned his attention away from the ale he held and looked more closely at Royce. “Those eyes ye mention look upon ye, Royce,” Tor said. “I’ve the good grace to feign happiness, at least. If ye’ve no’ noticed, this is supposed to be a celebration.”

“Celebration,” Royce muttered, taking a long swig of ale.

“Two families,” Tor continued, repeating the words their king had spoken earlier that eve, “come together to rejoice in a union that is sure to bring an end to this troublesome feud.” Standing with their backs to the wall, Tor and Royce simultaneously looked at that very king, who still sat on the raised dais, drinking wine. Seemingly pleased by his actions this day.

“The only thing this union promises to bring is an end to the king’s absurd decree for now,” Royce said, his voice low. “And perhaps Catlin’s happiness, if she can truly find such a thing with a Shaw. But an end to the feud? Nay. Never.”

At the name of their bitter enemy, one of its members now counted as Tor and Royce’s brother-in-law, the brothers grew silent. The hall teemed with Shaws, given their laird had just wed Tor and Royce’s sister. And it was, unfortunately, a Shaw holding in which they now stood. Something Tor had never expected to do again.

“He’s a fool to believe it.” Even as he said the words, the king caught Tor’s eye and raised his goblet. Smiling, he did the same, bringing his own mug into the air in a silent toast.

“I need ye to return to Castle MacRob,” Royce said. “That is, when ye’re finished placating the king.”

“Ye would do well to placate him a bit more, brother.”

“I am here, am I no’? I’ve given consent for a Shaw to marry our sister. ’Tis enough placating for some time.”

Tor loved that his brother thought he’d given consent. That he controlled the king. Royce spoke as if their clans hadn’t been given an ultimatum: cease their feud or King Alexander would do it for them. At first, they’d thought the king’s threat—to marry a new MacRob and Shaw couple every full moon until their feud was ended—was naught more than mere words. Unfortunately, it seemed, his words had been more than a threat. If Catlin hadn’t fallen in love with the laird of Clan Shaw, it would have mattered no’ whether Royce gave his consent. A marriage between one of their own and a Shaw would have taken place anyway.

The king would do as he pleased, even here in Castle Shaw.

“As ye say,” Tor said, his tone unconvinced. His brother sensed it, giving him a look that said clearly, No’ tonight. This eve, tensions ran high. The presence of the king had tempered what may have easily been a clash between their clans. Catlin may have fallen for the Clan Shaw laird, but she was the only one amongst them who so easily let go of her hatred. Everywhere they looked, men glared at one another, looking for even the smallest of provocations.

“Take yer hand from the hilt, Tor.”

Tor did immediately as his brother bid him. He’d not realized it had made its way there. “Are ye no’ returning home?” he asked Royce.

“Nay. Ye will quell any further discussions of retaliations in my stead.”

“Aye, brother.”

This time, it was Royce who studied him. Too carefully.

“It’s been near two summers since Adair’s death. Ye’re next in line to lead our clan, Tor, and have served well as my second.”

He feigned surprise. “Am I now? I’d not heard the news.” As his brother said, Tor had been serving as Royce’s second since their brother’s death. “Did ye all gather and decide it, then? Does Mother know? Ye should inform our allies of the news.”

“Ye’re an arse, Tor.”

“That I am, brother. But I am yer arse.”

“Nay, yers is there.” Royce nodded to Tor’s backside. “I’ve my own and cannae save yers every time.”

“If that’s a barb in reference to the last cattle raid, I’ll have ye know yer aid was no’ needed.”

He continued to needle his brother, ignoring the pang in his chest at the words Royce had so casually uttered. Aye, he was second. But Tor was neither bred for the role nor as prepared as Adair to fill it.

A pang of another sort reminded Tor he was being watched. Again.