The Maclean Brothers

Robert Maclean woke to a splintering hangover. It was as if tiny English soldiers had decided to dance all over his skull and didn’t seem to want to put their dancing shoes away anytime soon. Robert lifted his hand to his head and cursed. It didn’t matter that the headache was well earned after his night at the tavern in town with his younger brother Ewan. Robert had planned on spending his last night as a free man with a cup of the best wine in hand and a pretty wench on his lap--and later the hand-picked wench would warm his bed. However, things hadn’t gone quite according to plan. Ewan had naturally attracted a number of women to their table with his striking looks and love of life. Robert too had been appreciated by a number of the women of questionable reputation that frequented the establishment, especially by the very voluminous red-head with the sultry smile. She had promptly beat the rest of the girls to take her place on Robert’s lap and he had been more than willing for her to be the last beautiful women to grace his bed until she had looked at him.

Her eyes had been grey.

Robert’s memories of another grey-eyed girl, this one with tangled brown hair dressed as a boy and following him like a shadow, had flashed across his mind.

The night had gone to hell after that. With no stomach to bed the red-head he had pushed her off of him, ordered more wine and gotten thoroughly drunk. He wasn’t exactly sure how he had gotten back to his own bed in Duart Castle but he did remember Ewan mumbling foul things about his gut and Robert’s ruin of his evening so concluded that Ewan had dragged him home…and none too gently if his head was any testament. Grumbling to himself and promising to repay Ewan he got out of bed, stretched as he looked out the window and saw that the day would bring rain. He took extra time dressing, not one to rush off to start courting his betrothed.

Robert rued the day that his father had ever agreed to the marriage but knew it had been one his father had been unable to refuse. The Douglas, his father’s close friend, had only fathered one child, a girl, before his wife had died and had loved her too much to take a new bride. Still wishing to pass his castle to the daughter he loved he had enlisted the help of his dear friend, Robert’s father, and a man he trusted with his life. Robert had been chosen to be betrothed to the Douglas’s daughter so that she would get the Castle through her marriage to him. Forced to do his father’s wish Robert had visited the Douglas’s daughter once a month when he turned sixteen and for two years he was forced to play babysitter to a little pest that would follow him with eyes wide in adoration.

After two years he had told his father that he wasn’t going back to see her, his excuse had been that she was young, annoying, and ugly. They were all true but he had neglected to tell his father that she unnerved him in a way no other female did. Moira Douglas’s grey eyes were spellbinding and haunted him even today. His father had refused his announcement but before Robert was sent back to Roxburgh Castle fierce fighting had broken out and he had been needed on the battlefield. Then his father had died and Hector had more important things to think about then sending Robert to visit Moira. Years later when Hector brought up the Douglas’s daughter Robert had made excuses not to go see her. Hector, Alexander, and Ewan all thought Moira was plain and that was his reasons not to go see her. Truth was he just didn’t want to lose his freedom and she made him feel strange and not in command of his emotions. As ambassador, Robert was used to getting his way and manipulating others to do things for him and his clan, not being in control was unacceptable.

He had tried to forget about Moira and had had his fair share of affaires, he was young and wanted to live life to the fullest. Beside his father was the one that made the betrothed without his consent and his vow, making him able to love other women without it nagging at his conscience--much. Robert knew though that once he went to Moira today and began a true courtship that would most definitely end in marriage that he was duty bound to be loyal to her. Robert was nothing if not loyal and cheating on anyone was not something he could do. Robert knew that the night before had been his last as a free man but try as he might he had not been able to take a woman with his mind fully occupied with the next day…and the grey-eyed Moira.

Sighing, Robert strapped his sword to his waist and opened the door to his room, hating that his eldest brother was making him go to Moira just because he was happily married and thought all his brothers should be too. So busy was Robert that he collided with something slender and blond. Reflexively he caught it before it went down and received a scream for his troubles.

Speaking of which, he thought to himself.

“Now you’ve done it Robert,” scolded Rosaline, his sister-in-law, good-naturedly as she bounced his crying nephew on her hip. “I had just gotten him back to sleep.”

“I’m sorry my mind was elsewhere,” Robert said. It was still unbelievable to think that the beautiful woman before him was English. Despite Robert and his clan’s hatred of the English, Rosaline was beloved by all not to mention dotted on by Hector. Robert smirked at the thought of the great Border Demon being completely outmatched when it came to arguing with the feisty woman before him.

“Shhh, sweetheart, go back to bed,” cooed Rosaline to her child but he continued to yell at the top of his tiny lungs.

“Come to your uncle, Neil,” Robert said taking him from Rosaline. Lowering his voice he said, “Now Neil, I now you love to sing just like your father--and you are both terribly off key might I add--but it is time for you to sleep.” Rubbing Neil’s back in tiny circles he continued to talk to his nephew, who seemed to have lowered his pitch. “Your mother is exhausted just look at her.” Robert turned the child so that he could look at his mother with his famous Maclean green eyes. “If it was your father I would tell you to just keep singing and give him a taste of the small torture he loves to give me and your two other uncles but since it is your mother I’m taking pity.” The child had now stopped crying and was listening intently to his words. “Not to mention your father is making me go over to Roxburgh Castle on a day that will bring rain.” Neil had leaned his head on Robert’s chest and was now sound asleep.

“How do you do that?” Rosaline asked as she took her sleeping child from him and they made their way down the hall to Neil’s nursery.

“I’m not called Robert the Cunning for nothing,” Robert boasted as Rosaline chuckled and tucked Neil into bed with the nurse watching over him.

“Are you alright?” she asked once they were in the hall again.

“If you mean that my head’s ready to explode and I’m about to ride out on rough terrain that will make it ten times worse with my destination being where my unwanted betrothed is, oh and I forgot to mention that my brothers are all going to snicker at something when I get to the hall then I’m very much alright.”

Rosaline winced, “Maybe your brothers won’t say anything.”

“Then my real brothers have been kidnapped and I have that to worry about too,” teased Robert. Rosaline stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“It has been close to eight years Robert. Many things have happened to both of you in your time apart. You may find her different than you remember,” Rosaline tried to comfort him. Hopefully that was true and her looks had improved but more importantly he hoped that her intense gaze had been erased. “Try to be the honorable man I know you are.”

“I’ll try,” Robert replied as they went down the staircase.

“And you might want to start by apologizing for ignoring her for eight years.” Robert’s snort made Rosaline go on. “Trust me, a woman never forgets how she was ignored.”

“Don’t worry about Robert, Rose,” came Alexander’s voice from the bottom of the stairs. “He’ll just say a few witty words and have the lass forgetting the last eight years and ready to be a bride.”

“Not that Robert wants the hag in his bed,” laughed Ewan. So much for not being teased, Robert thought lifting his eyebrow in Rosaline’s direction.

“Stop teasing him boys you are going to be next,” Rosaline warned as she went over to her towering husband and kissed him good morning.

“Hell no!” Ewan cried, earning him a hard look from Hector. He was still on a crusade to get them to stop swearing and talking about their exploits in the bedchamber in front of Rosaline. “I meant, there is no damn…errr…there is just no way, I’m never getting married.”

“There are too many women in the world to settle on just one,” added Alexander.

“I did,” Hector pointed out as the family sat at the high table and broke their fast.

“You have too since you’re Laird,” Alexander pointed out. As his brothers argued over married life, Robert was glad not to be the center of attention for a few minutes. Knowing it wouldn’t last long he wolfed down his breakfast and stood, needing to get this first meeting with Moira done and over with.

“I’ll see you all when I get back tonight,” he said and exited the hall.

“Don’t get lost on your way there,” yelled Alexander.

“Make sure you remember every horrid detail of her face to tell us later,” hollered Ewan. Robert clenched his jaw and told himself that it wouldn’t do to murder your own brothers.

“Rumors say she’s a beauty,” Hector’s voice intruded on his thoughts of torture. He looked up to find his brother walking beside him. “I made enquires on her, knowing you would want to know all the facts.” Robert couldn’t help a small smile from his face at his elder brother’s thoughtfulness; it was kind but unnecessary as he had done the same. The only way for him to be so good as an ambassador was to know every detail about his opponent and he had cultivated a network of many spies that answered directly to him. It was one of the reasons why he was so good at what he did and Hector was still alive with all the threats on his life.

Robert had learned that although Moira was betrothed to him she had still been proposed to four times in the last two years, all of which she had decline. Robert wondered if she would have accepted one of the men if she had been free to do so. She was currently the healer for her clan and good at it too if the gossip was correct. She was able to do anything from setting limbs to delivering babies. She was a free spirit that had many men wrapped around her finger and the apple of her father’s eye. Her horses name was named Spiorad and her closest confidant was her servant, a mysterious girl named Lena that had appeared at their castle a year ago and become Moira’s maid.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t needed and you know more than I do already.”

“It was kind of you to do so anyway,” Robert replied stepping out into the courtyard. Robert’s white stallion, Breagha, was already saddled and ready.

“I sent word to the Douglas to expect you so don’t try anything cunning,” Hector said sternly as Robert mounted his horse. “I know you hate me right now but I think that in the end you will thank me for this.”

“Don’t count on it.” Robert kicked his mount into a gallop and headed towards his betrothed.

~ ~ ~ ~

“The foul smelling fish monger dung eating son of a bitch arsehole!” screamed Moira as she slammed her chamber door behind her.

“Who are we talking about exactly?” asked Moira’s maid and closest friend Lena while calmly making the bed and arranging Moira’s room perfectly. The famous Douglas temper was nothing new to Lena anymore. Too angry to comment Moira held the now crumbled message out for Lena to read and then began pacing around the room trying to keep her rage in and her hands from throwing something. A few minutes passed in silence before Lena looked up from the piece of paper.

“So your betrothed is coming,” Lena said.

“Don’t call him that. Robert Maclean isn’t going to be my husband!” Lena’s keen violet eyes looked at her in quiet amusement. “Very well, I know he will have to be but before that I’m going to make him pay for ignoring me for eight years!”

Once Robert Maclean had been all Moira could think about. As a child, his visits were the highlight of her months and she worshipped the ground he had walked on. She had been infatuated by him and only wanted to be liked back by her hero. Robert, however, had hated his time at her side and always desperately tried to find ways to be anywhere but at her side. He called her names whenever he could and made it clear he had no interest in her. They had the opposite affect than he wanted. Instead of running crying to her father she followed him as closely as his shadow because while his words said one thing, his gentle touch and looks said quite another.

She remembered clearly the day that he had tried running into the forest to get rid of her and Moira had stumbled and cut her leg and hands. Robert had immediately doubled back and gentle wrapped her hands and leg to stop the bleeding while telling her a story he had heard in the village that had her laughing and unaware of the pain. Robert had carried her home and had left only when he was sure she had been alright. Moira knew there was honor in him and she felt safe around him. But one day she had made the mistake of telling him she loved him out loud. He had laughed in her face and cruelly said that he could never like an ugly pest that dressed like a boy and smelled like a cow. She had been so hurt by his words that she had fled to her room.

After that day he hadn’t come back. Soon the hurt left and loneliness set in. She missed everything about him but with the years the naive little girl that worshipped him had disappeared and in her place a very angry woman had emerged. Moira had changed much in their years apart; she had finally taken her old maid’s advice in clothes and took more care in her outward appearance. No longer a tomboy on the outside she had grown into a woman that was at least attractive enough to catch the attention of four lovesick suitors…just not the one she had put all the effort into catching.

All the while Robert was out in the world building a reputation from himself as a Robert the Cunning. Cunning indeed! How could a man be called that while he made his betrothed wait for eight years?! Not wise to let hate brew that long.

And now he was coming back…to see her…after eight bloody years!

“Bastard,” Moira mumbled under her breath while Lena chose not to respond to her curse.

“You should,” Lena replied.

“Should what?” Moira frowned too caught up in her thoughts of the boy she had idolized and wanting to string him up by his heels from her window.

Lena moved to bloke Moira’s path, took her shoulders and turned her towards the mirror. “Make him suffer. Now I suggest you dress in your best gown and let me do your hair so that Maclean can get a good look at what he’s been missing all these years.”

“I have a better idea,” Moira said stepping way from her friend and grabbing her cloak and basket.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked worriedly eyeing the basket with trepidation. “You can’t expect to go herb picking today?”

“And why not?” she protested swiping out of her room while her maid followed. “Robert hasn’t bothered to rearrange his life for me all these years so why should I do so for him when he says he is ready.”

“Moira! Don’t be so foolish,” Lena tried to grab her but only grasped air. “What of your father?”

“Tell him what you want,” Moira called behind her shoulder as she walked down the steps of the hall and out into the morning, headed towards the main gate.

~ ~ ~ ~

Robert was stalling, feeling like a man going to the gallows. He would rather face a hundred English soldiers with no weapon and stark naked than go to Moira. Breagha, felt his agitation and shook her head restlessly while Robert tried to banish his black thoughts. Robert wanted to deny it but it was the truth, he was worried about their meeting. He wasn’t apprehensive about getting her to forget his years of neglect, he wasn’t called the Cunning for anything and he remembered well her undying love of him. What bothered him were those grey eyes of hers. What if those grey eyes were as keen as they had been all those years ago? He had hated the way they watched him, making him feel nervous for no reason.

Since his mind was already going through possible escape plans Robert didn’t hesitate to go investigate the sound that had come from the woods to his right. Easily maneuvering his horse with just a nudge with his knees he quietly made his way into the woods where he knew was situated a small loch. Dismounting in one fluid motion, Robert left his white stallion a few feet away from whatever or whoever was making all the noise so that he would not alert them of his presence. Robert wasn’t worried that Breagha would wonder away because he had trained her well. Agilely slipping through the bushes without even a whisper of a sound he came to the loch to find a young woman singing as she picked herbs. Robert frowned as he took in the fine quality of her clothes having expecting a peasant because the song she was singing was one that was currently circulating the taverns and not one a lady of birth should know. He grinned at the force with which she used her dagger to dig in the ground for roots and how she emphasized a certain swear word in the song as if she was saying it to a person. She was clearly furious at someone and he pitted the poor soul. Robert could tell that she was a woman of many words and not one to sit idly back. Her baring spoke of strength and boldness in the face of adversity but had lost none of its appeal. She was still clearly a woman and a beauty at that. Robert watched as she walked over to a small plant and knelt, from where he stood he could see the side of her face tense in concentration. Her long wavy brown hair cascaded down her back and when a piece slid from her shoulder his hand itched to push it back so that she could work in peace. She tilted her head to the side and bit her lip in attentiveness which made his eyes lock on those inviting lips. Robert took an involuntary step forward but thoughts of his betrothed waiting for him in the castle made him pause.

What the hell do you think you are doing, Robert yelled at himself. Get out of there! For once in his life he didn’t listen to reason but watch her as she glanced at her dirty hands and sighed. The woman walked gracefully to the side of the loch and dipped her hands into the cool water while Robert contemplated jumping in the water to cool his heated blood. In the next instant, however, his breath stopped as he caught sight of her eyes.

They were grey…exactly shaped and shaded like Moira’s!

“Holy hell,” he cursed under his breath. Then his eyes narrowed as he watched her. What the hell was she doing out here when she should be wait from him in the castle? Where they had both agreed to meet today…but instead were here…by a loch…alone. Robert didn’t think things through again and marched right up to where she was kneeling looking like a nymph trying to distract him. It had bloody well worked and he still couldn’t believe that Moira had grown into such a stunning woman.

“Moira, what are you doing here?” Robert asked without his usual charm. There was something about being near her that made him forget how to talk and what to say. Moira jumped in fear and because of the precarious position she had been in fell into the water with a shriek. He tried to grab her but it was too late, the only thing he could do now was hope she hadn’t inherited the notorious Douglas temper. He let lose a string of curse words in his head as he watched her come up and spit water out of her mouth, hair covering her face.

“I’m so sorry,” Robert said, wincing as she parted her hair and pierced him with the full force of her angry gaze. Guess that was too much to ask, he thought sarcastically to himself. He could tell that she recognized him as well because her eyes went wide and then narrowed to incredibly thin slits that shot daggers at him. He hadn’t though it possible that Moira could look madder but she had succeeded.

“Robert Maclean,” Moira said with venom.

“Aye that would be me,” he replied with a small smile.

She trudged up to the shallow end and put her hands on her hips as she continued to trap him in those grey orbs. The fact that the water had plastered her dress to reveal every sinful inch of her body didn’t help Robert in the least.

“Are you at least going to help me out of this water?” she asked sweetly, blinking up at Robert innocently.

“Of course,” he replied leaning down and holding out a hand towards her, thinking that she was taking all this rather well. He should have known a Douglas would never let their pride be hurt without retaliation. Her warm delicate hand had been in his only a heartbeat before she pulled him in with surprising strength. He hit the water face first, feeling like an idiot.

~ ~ ~ ~

It had been a shock to see Robert in front of her after so many years. He looked even more handsome than Moira remembered with the well-known green eyes of the Maclean clan. Moira had just forgotten the teasing blue flecks that made his unique. For all his reputation as a politician and ambassador he had a muscular body. Robert towered over her and his broad shoulders left no mistake that he was a warrior. The large, rough hand that he had extended to her had been proof of that but like every Scotsman he had the same weakness…saving a damsel in distress.

Well, Moira had made good use of that disadvantage and felt a grin of satisfaction spread across her face.

Robert emerged from the lake like a powerful creature and Moira couldn’t help feeling a tingle of awareness at his power and masculinity when he shook his head like an animal to dry his brown hair.

“I’ll admit I deserved that,” he said with patience as he approached her like she was a wide animal that needing taming. I don’t think so, she vowed.

Moira lifted her chin in the air and gathered all her dignity about her, acting like she was at court instead of standing in a loch dripping wet, “Aye you did Robert Maclean and a lot more!”

Moira stepped towards him to dunk him into the loch again but was hindered by her long, heavy and wet dress. She stumbled and this time Robert caught her in his arms. Despite both of them being soaking she felt warmth spread through her as his arms held her naturally. She fit perfectly next to him like she belonged there. Moira placed a hand on his chest and looked up into his eyes, hypnotizing her without difficulty.

“You are so beautiful,” Robert said softly lifting a large hand to cup her face. She was amazed at the tenderness in his warrior’s hand as he pushed her hair back from her shoulder and let his hand rest on the side of her neck. Moira snapped back to reality when she saw his smirk, the bastard had deliberately put his hand there to feel her pulse. She blushed in shame at the fast rate it was beating and moved away from him. Uncaring of the indecency of it she lifted her wet dress to expose her legs so she wouldn’t trip over them as she climbed out of the water. Moira glanced out of the corner of her eye when she heard a sharp intake of breath and was rewarded with the sight of Robert’s eyes fixed on her bare limbs. She was just happy that he wasn’t as unaffected by this as he made it look. Once on shore, Moira let the fabric go and turned to gather her basket as she heard Robert’s long strides in the water.

“I thought of you often,” Robert said stopping to stand next to her.

“Robert your honeyed tongue won’t work on me,” Moira responded turning her back on him and starting to walk away. She looked up into the now graying sky and knew a storm was only a few minutes from arriving.

“Tongues, you weren’t one to beat about the subject when you wanted something.” Robert kept pace with Moira even after she speed up. His annoyingly long legs didn’t even have to work hard to stay next to her.

“What are you going on about?” she asked confused. Moira passed a gorgeous white horse that followed them—Robert—without any signal from him at all. Does he have every bloody animal and person following his every wish?! She thought irritably.

“It obvious you want my tongue doing something with yours to have mentioned it.” Robert didn’t even run into her when she froze suddenly.

“That was a very ungentlemanly thing to say and inappropriate for the ears of a woman of my station,” Moira scolded.

The man had the nerve to give her a mocking smirk!

“Just as the song you were singing so loudly shouldn’t have touched your lips.”

Her mouth snapped shut and she changed the subject, “When will you go away?”

“Never,” Robert pushed wet hair out of his eyes and stared straight at her. Moira broke eye contact and fix her eyes ahead of her, determined to act as if a handsome Scotsman wasn’t at her side.

“Did you walk all the way to the loch?” Robert’s question distracted Moira.

“Pardon?”

“Did you walk all the way from Roxburgh?” he repeated.

“Aye.”

“Alone?”

“Aye.” He gave her an incredulous glare. “What?”

“A wee thing like you could have been attacked by a brute walking without guards.”

“I was,” Moira gave him a pointed look. “Believe me I have learned my lesson.

“Why did you not take a horse?” Robert let her comment drop.

“I do not need to be carried everywhere like a priceless jewel that will crack under pressure,” Moira replied glad to see the gate come into view. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her composure around Robert. “I do have legs to walk with you know.”

“Oh I know.” His tone made her cheeks heat up but she didn’t move her eyes from the open gate. When they arrived at the front gate Moira ignored the curious looks and snickers from the guards and faced Robert.

“Thank you for escorting me home, you may go now.”

“I still have to visit your father and get to know you better,” Robert replied diplomatically.

“I will give your regards to my father and I have had quite enough of you for one day.” Patrick, one of the older guards, chuckled resulting in Robert’s hand fisting as he staring at the man like he wanted to rip him to shreds. Patrick coughed and stood straighter.

“You could at least give me the courtesy of letting me dry off before returning to Duart.”

Moira smiled slyly, “What would be the point when you are just going to get wet again riding back?” Robert’s jaw twitched as she patted his shoulder mockingly. “You’re a strong Scotsman, you won’t melt.”

Her humiliation of him complete after making her a laughingstock for eight years she was about to elegantly walk away when Robert stopped her by wrapping his arm around her waist. He pulled her so close to him that her chest was plastered to his.

“I will take a kiss to keep me warm on the way back then.” Moira’s heart pounded as he lowered his head and placed his lips on hers. Robert knew how to kiss a woman, his hands slide along her back as her lips parted involuntarily to the passionate assault. That tongue that Moira had unconsciously been thinking about since their discussion on him slid deep in her mouth. It did wicked things that left her knees weak and she was now the one in danger of melting. She knew it was a show of his dominance and possessiveness to their audience but she found herself not caring as she kissed him back just as hungrily. He was surprised at her boldness, she could tell from how he froze for a fraction of a second but then he smiled against her lips. It was that triumphant grin that made her temper rise against his overload on her senses. Just as she was about to bite him in protest Robert broke the kiss. “Well worth it all.”

Saying nothing else he got on his horse and rode off, the winner of this round.

“I like him,” Patrick said as Moira walked past him.

“That makes one of us,” she mumbled, knowing that Robert had won respect from many of the men today by his clever manipulation of her. It wasn’t often that she was the one not in control. She also knew the kiss and her refusal of hospitality was going to travel back to the ears of her father.

Lena met her in the middle of the bailey not even commenting on the exchanged or the fact that Robert and she had both been wet.

“So how did your little plan go?” Lena inquired when they were in the privacy of Moira’s room.

“Could have gone better.”