McKinnon's Bride - Laird's Love Vol. 1

The Warning

Josephine Montclair was exhausted. It had taken her two weeks of riding, with only a small satchel of jerky and a flagon of water, to get to the McKinnon Territory. But she was finally there - and thank the good Lord for that.

She'd taken a ball to her ribs about a week ago. Although it was a glancing blow, it had nevertheless torn through her cape and dress. She'd done her best to clean and pack the wound, but she hadn't had the benefit of time, so she hadn't stopped. Her lovely mint-green gown was ripped and stained an ugly brown from the dried blood that had seeped down her side.

Now, the streak of fire near her waist was throbbing, her rear was numb, and her eyelids were heavy. She needed rest, food, water, salve, and a bath, but she'd made it. She was certain of it.

Though she'd never stepped foot on the land, Josephine had it described to her in the letters from her betrothed's sister. While Laird McKinnon did not seem enamored of writing, his sister Erin had been kind enough to engage Josephine in correspondence. They'd been exchanging letters for nearly five years, just after Josephine had turned fifteen and become the Laird's intended.

Not, that it seemed, he was in any rush to marry.

Although the Laird had agreed to the marriage between he and Josephine, McKinnon had never visited her. Rather, the deal had been struck between her late father and the Laird, who apparently had need of a wife at some point. The connection between the Montclairs was important for some political reason of which Josephine was uncertain. All she knew was that her betrothed was not interested in meeting her.

At the age of fifteen, that fact had hurt Josephine. She'd had images in her head of being swept away by a great hulking man who would worship at her feet but be strong among his clan. She'd convinced herself that he had not come initially because he had too much work to do with his people. When Erin had said that he was occupied, Josephine had accepted that.

She knew better now. At the age of nearly twenty, Josephine was no longer of the mistaken belief that her betrothed actually wanted her. She'd come to accept that he was pushed into the arrangement for whatever reason. Although he was a Laird, she was wise enough to know that his position could put as many, if not more, responsibilities upon his head as existed on those of a stable boy.

Despite her acceptance that theirs was not a love match and likely never would be, Josephine took her connection to the Laird seriously. She'd been bound to him for years. It may be that the two would eventually come to like one another; it may not. Regardless, he was to be her intended and so she had to warn him.

So long as she could stay awake long enough to do it.

--

"Laird," Donovan called, stomping into the room to see Bryce McKinnon, as usual, behind his desk.

"Aye," Bryce answered. He was working through the latest reports on the crops. His people had done well recently. There was a good chance that they'd be able to use a surplusage to purchase an influx of cattle to vary and strengthen the herd.

"There's a rider coming in hard," Donovan announced.

Bryce stood immediately and reached for his sword. Although a warrior at heart, he'd had to take to the farming aspects of the McKinnon land due to his Lairdship. The idea of a battle wasn't long gone from his mind, but it had been a while. His fighting instincts were itching with Donovan's news.

"Nay," Donovan said, shaking his head. "Looks to be a lass," he stated.

Frowning, Bryce nevertheless placed the sword in his scabbard and stalked around the desk. He nodded toward the door behind Donovan, following his longtime friend out. Upon reaching the doors of the keep, he stepped out into the bright Scottish sun. 'Twas a lovely day.

The portcullis was up, allowing him and Donovan easy exit. At his side, his best friend scanned the surroundings. Bryce, meanwhile, did the same.

"What do we know?" Bryce asked lowly. None of his people seemed disturbed. The warning must not have been one that caused Donovan great concern.

"Naught," came the reply. "She's continued to tear toward the keep like the devil hisself follows," Donovan explained. "When approached, she cried out that she had to speak with the Laird only," he continued. "Rikkard says she appears ready to fall off the horse, but is a bonnie lass."

Bryce nodded as he stepped out. As Donovan had said, a woman was galloping toward the keep. Her hair - a bright, rose-gold – streamed behind her like a banner. It caught with the wind, as did her cape, which revealed a soft green dress on her person. The dress was hiked up so that she could ride astride. As she came to a stop before him and Donovan, Bryce saw that she wore slippers on her feet.

"I must speak with Laird McKinnon," she announced, her voice tight.

Bryce's eyes traveled over her as he considered her words. There was exhaustion painted on her face, which was coated with a fine layer of dirt. Her hair was tangled and had small leaves and bits of earth in it. Her hands here clenched on her reins, but he could see redness eking out from them. As fanciful as it might sound, she looked a warrior princess. The only thing she lacked was a weapon.

"Who seeks to speak to him?" Donovan asked. His tones were firm, but curious. He would have seen all that Bryce had.

"Lady Josephine Montclair," the woman replied. Bryce's brows came together on her words. Before he could speak, however, Erin called out.

"Joey!"

Bryce and Donovan watched as the woman before them perked in her saddle. Although obviously worn out, she smiled and flung her leg over the horse, which was still panting with its exertion. She touched upon the ground in time to capture Bryce's sister in an embrace.

Donovan and Bryce exchanged a look. Bryce nodded to one of his warriors, gesturing to the horse. The animal needed care and, it would seem, his betrothed was here for something urgent.

Twisting his lips, Bryce's eyes turned back to the woman he was to marry. He hadn't met her before and he would own to surprise. He'd assumed, given her father's statements, that his wife-to-be was plain.

She was anything but.

Although her journey had taken a toll and her cape hid much now that she was not riding, Bryce could see the beauty in Josephine's form. Once she'd bathed and rested, he had no doubt that she would sparkle. And, as he noted the kind smile on her face as she looked upon Erin, he wondered if that sparkle might not emanate from the inside.

"What brings you here?" Erin asked, the question bringing Bryce and Donovan closer. Josephine grimaced and stepped back, her hand raising to her midsection on the right side. Another frown sparked as his betrothed swayed.

Bryce reached forward and caught Josephine as her legs gave out. The adrenaline of the trip was gone now, leaving her without the energy to remain vertical. As she looked up into the warm, dark brown eyes of the man who caught her, she spoke.

"Laird McKinnon is in danger."