Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel by Violetta Rand Page A
Authors: Violetta Rand
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he was teasing her. “I will wait to answer that question.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “So let me show ye something else.” He held the small mirror up, standing behind her. “Take a long look at yourself, lass. I know a man is judged by his wealth or fighting skills, or by his bloodline or whether he’s the firstborn son. It matters not. For the only thing of import is whether you can face yourself. Can you hold your head up high every day and find peace in knowing you’ve led an honorable life?”
“Y-yes,” she whispered, deeply moved by his profound thoughts.
“Good.” He spun her around to face him. “Then doona fear me, lass. Marry me, and we’ll find our futures together.”
Chapter 14
The MacKenzies had not been pleased when Laird MacRae didn’t join them in the great hall yesterday. But Errol followed his sire’s advice, and with little trouble had the five men drinking heavily and singing songs within a couple hours. Always able to drink most men under the table, Errol hadn’t neglected his duties. He’d raised a dozen cups in salute to their allies, reveling in the knowledge that he’d avoided an unhappy union with a MacKenzie by choosing Aileana. And now, just minutes away from escorting her to the feast to witness his father’s announcement of their betrothal, his heart thundered in anticipation.
Leaning against one of the stone columns at the entrance to the hall, he appraised the preparations. All the servants had worked through the night. Banners of the MacRae tartan decorated the walls. Ribbons of the same colors—green, red, and blue—were tied to the dozens of brass candle stands. His father had demanded nothing but the best, wax tapers in every holder, French wine, and the silver plates and goblets usually reserved for the finest of celebrations. Errol approved—how many times did a man stand claim a bride?
He appreciated the bouquets of dried flowers strewn about the hall in copper and silver vases, which he knew Aileana’s aunties were responsible for. Beyond his sire, Cameron, and Broc, the maids were the only ones who knew his secret. Tonight Errol would make all the women who’d dared to slander his future wife swallow their bitter words. Justice came in many forms, but at times he wished his father was more liberal about punishing the pecking hens in the kitchens. A tongue carved out of an evil mouth would put an immediate end to their wicked thoughts. For it wasn’t what a man put into his mouth that polluted his heart, it’s what came out of it.
He turned to the narrow stairs and sucked in a breath. The team of seamstresses employed at the keep had labored doubly hard to finish one of the silk gowns for Aileana. He’d dreamt of her in flowing sea green silk, her mane of fiery hair tumbling over her shoulders. She required no embellishments to look beautiful. Her smile alone could outshine the summer sun, her teeth like tiny pearls. But Errol would no sooner present her without gems around her neck than he would in homespun. He patted the leather pouch at his hip, where his mother’s Scottish pearl and ruby necklace was safely nestled.
As he stepped away from the hall, Broc appeared. They hadn’t spoken after the meeting in his father’s solar. Friends since childhood, it pained Errol to know that a woman had so easily changed things between them. But age brought different responsibilities, and he’d be damned if he ever let a female under the care of the MacRaes fall into the hands of any man who would only use her body to prove something.
Broc frowned.
“I thought my father sent you to check on the herd.”
“Aye,” he said. “Not one is missing.”
“Do you join the festivities tonight as a friend?”
Broc threw him a resentful look. “I enter the hall as I do on any other occasion, to fill my hungry stomach.”
“I canna allow you to cast a shadow over this celebration. Aileana is a free woman, and she chose me. Like it or no, she never
“Fair enough,” he said. “So let me show ye something else.” He held the small mirror up, standing behind her. “Take a long look at yourself, lass. I know a man is judged by his wealth or fighting skills, or by his bloodline or whether he’s the firstborn son. It matters not. For the only thing of import is whether you can face yourself. Can you hold your head up high every day and find peace in knowing you’ve led an honorable life?”
“Y-yes,” she whispered, deeply moved by his profound thoughts.
“Good.” He spun her around to face him. “Then doona fear me, lass. Marry me, and we’ll find our futures together.”
Chapter 14
The MacKenzies had not been pleased when Laird MacRae didn’t join them in the great hall yesterday. But Errol followed his sire’s advice, and with little trouble had the five men drinking heavily and singing songs within a couple hours. Always able to drink most men under the table, Errol hadn’t neglected his duties. He’d raised a dozen cups in salute to their allies, reveling in the knowledge that he’d avoided an unhappy union with a MacKenzie by choosing Aileana. And now, just minutes away from escorting her to the feast to witness his father’s announcement of their betrothal, his heart thundered in anticipation.
Leaning against one of the stone columns at the entrance to the hall, he appraised the preparations. All the servants had worked through the night. Banners of the MacRae tartan decorated the walls. Ribbons of the same colors—green, red, and blue—were tied to the dozens of brass candle stands. His father had demanded nothing but the best, wax tapers in every holder, French wine, and the silver plates and goblets usually reserved for the finest of celebrations. Errol approved—how many times did a man stand claim a bride?
He appreciated the bouquets of dried flowers strewn about the hall in copper and silver vases, which he knew Aileana’s aunties were responsible for. Beyond his sire, Cameron, and Broc, the maids were the only ones who knew his secret. Tonight Errol would make all the women who’d dared to slander his future wife swallow their bitter words. Justice came in many forms, but at times he wished his father was more liberal about punishing the pecking hens in the kitchens. A tongue carved out of an evil mouth would put an immediate end to their wicked thoughts. For it wasn’t what a man put into his mouth that polluted his heart, it’s what came out of it.
He turned to the narrow stairs and sucked in a breath. The team of seamstresses employed at the keep had labored doubly hard to finish one of the silk gowns for Aileana. He’d dreamt of her in flowing sea green silk, her mane of fiery hair tumbling over her shoulders. She required no embellishments to look beautiful. Her smile alone could outshine the summer sun, her teeth like tiny pearls. But Errol would no sooner present her without gems around her neck than he would in homespun. He patted the leather pouch at his hip, where his mother’s Scottish pearl and ruby necklace was safely nestled.
As he stepped away from the hall, Broc appeared. They hadn’t spoken after the meeting in his father’s solar. Friends since childhood, it pained Errol to know that a woman had so easily changed things between them. But age brought different responsibilities, and he’d be damned if he ever let a female under the care of the MacRaes fall into the hands of any man who would only use her body to prove something.
Broc frowned.
“I thought my father sent you to check on the herd.”
“Aye,” he said. “Not one is missing.”
“Do you join the festivities tonight as a friend?”
Broc threw him a resentful look. “I enter the hall as I do on any other occasion, to fill my hungry stomach.”
“I canna allow you to cast a shadow over this celebration. Aileana is a free woman, and she chose me. Like it or no, she never
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