Free In the Warrior’s Bed by Mary Wine Page B

against his control, doubling his pace. One word made it clearly to his ears.
    Blackguard…
    He snarled softly, his pride stung deeply.
    His honor demanded action now. McQuade had miscalculated if the man thought he might strike out without gaining McJames retaliation. The man had misjudged him greatly.
    A McJames never took disgrace without a fight. Cullen was going to make a struggle McQuade would never forget. He strode from the royal hall, determination fueling his stride. There was no more to think about.
    ’Twas time for action.
     
    “Yer daft.” Druce swirled the ale in his mug around for a long moment. “But I suppose ’tis my own fault for teasing ye about the lass.”
    “I met her.”
    Druce straightened up, surprise on his face. “Yer pulling me leg, lad. I dinna want to believe ye had her as her father said.”
    “I dinna have her.” His voice was rough, but he’d heard his honor questioned one too many times in a single day to keep his sense of humor. “But we spoke and her brothers caught us.” Cullen didn’t care for the look his cousin gave him. Thinking about having Bronwyn in his bed was not the same sin as doing it. “I havena touched her.”
    “Yet.” Druce was done teasing. There was no amusement lurking in his eyes now. The man was pure concentration, his mind considering the details of what needed doing.
    “Aye, yet.” He was no liar. Cullen stared straight back at his kin. He wanted her, wanted her enough to steal her. Maybe men talked about such things often, but he’d never truly thought he’d find himself wanting any woman enough to kidnap her. Applying his charm to the art of seduction, now that was more his style.
    “Is it just yer pride that is pushing ye to do what ye’ve been accused of, Cullen?”
    Druce asked a good question. One Cullen wasn’t sure about himself. There was only one thing he was sure of and that was that he was going to take Bronwyn or die in the trying.
    “There will be blood spilt for sure if ye take the lass.”
    Cullen snorted. “There’s been blood spilled near every season I can recall in me life by her father and his insistence that my father stole his bride.”
    “He’s going to be in a full rage when ye take his daughter as well.”
    Cullen shot Druce a deadly look. “McQuade should have thought about that afore he accused me of deflowering her in open court. It is my right to take her to the altar now that her father has said I took her maidenhead. That is the only thing that will save me from being labeled a blackguard.”
    “That’s a truth, sure enough, but ye’ll be the one that has to endure her as yer wife. Yer friends will understand if ye dinna shoulder that burden.”
    “I do not hold all of Scotland’s nobles as my friends.” Cullen slid a dirk into the top of his boot. He was arming himself for battle and Druce knew it well. “There must be fifty letters being written by those at court talking about me and my lack of honor. I wager few will take the time to debate the reasons.”
    He eyed the edge of his sword in silence, his full attention on the task of checking the blade for nicks. Druce held silent until Cullen sheathed the blade.
    “If that’s yer decision, I’m going with ye.” Druce reached for his own sword. “McKorey mentioned that he and a few of his men would be waiting outside the McQuade town house tonight.”
    Druce shrugged when Cullen gave him a confused look.
    “McKorey has as much reason to want that family laid low as the McJames do. The McQuades raid his land as often as yers. I hear Alarik was thinking of pressing the king for Bronwyn’s hand himself.”
    “She’s mine.”
    And the rest of Scotland could just forget that Bronwyn McQuade was born to a father who was a lying bastard that could not recall that he’d lost his bride thirty-five years ago through nothing but his own actions. His mother never lamented it. She’d loved his father until the day a battle wound took his life. His