The look her aunts exchanged was maddeningly conspiratorial.
Finally, Miriel spoke. “You’ve been to Edinburgh, Hallie. You know how mad it can be. Bustling streets. Crowds everywhere. Nobles clamoring for the court’s attention.”
“But you did speak with the king?” she asked.
Helena closed her eyes to smoldering slits. “If that’s what you want to call him.”
Miriel cuffed her. “Helena!”
“He’s a pup,” Helena complained. “Bloody hell, I don’t know how he’s going to hold on to the crown. Your Merewen could best him in battle.”
Merewen was Miriel’s youngest daughter, all of eight years old.
Hallie placed a hand on her aunt Miriel’s arm. “But he did give you an answer?”
Her father suddenly raised the cup of ale someone had brought him. “’Tis good to be home!” he bellowed.
The clan cheered, and Hallie was obliged to wait until they settled down to resume her line of questioning.
She turned to her uncle Colin, who would surely tell her what she needed to know. After all, it was his daughter who stood to inherit Creagor.
“What news for Jenefer, Uncle?”
He cleared his throat. Before he could answer, Helena inserted herself between them. “I think ’tis only right we tell Jenefer first, aye?”
Hallie furrowed her brows. She supposed that was fair.
Helena added, “Where did you say she was again?”
Hallie was saved from having to answer when Brand came bounding across the courtyard, followed by Gellir and Ian. “Ma! Da! Welcome home!”
Her uncle Rand ruffled Brand’s hair. “I swear you’ve grown three inches in the last fortnight, lad.”
“He’s nigh as tall as my Hew,” Colin agreed.
They made more infuriating chatter while Hallie stewed, worried over who might ruin everything by leaking the information that Jenefer and Feiyan were being held hostage at Creagor.
“Where’s Isabel?” her mother asked suddenly.
Hallie choked on her oatcake.
Ian answered. “She’s actually in your bedchamber, Ma. She’s taking a cold bath.”
“What?”
“She said ’twas a beauty experiment.”
“Ah.” Her mother raised a brow at her father. Very little Isabel did could surprise them.
After everyone had finished off their ale and oatcakes, her mother leaned toward her to confide, “I’m proud of you, lass. Thank you for watching o’er Rivenloch in my absence.” She squeezed Hallie’s hand, but Hallie thought there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. “You’ll make a great laird one day.”
Hallie gave her a sickly smile.
The rest of the afternoon was full of frustration, with her parents giving her evasive answers about Creagor and what the king had decreed and Hallie giving her aunts evasive answers about her cousins’ whereabouts.
She stole up to her bedchamber once to check on Colban. He was pacing the room, trying to walk without the crutch. Clearly he wanted to make a good impression on her parents.
“What news about Creagor?” he asked.
“None. They’re closed up like clams and won’t say a word until they can speak to Jenefer.”
“What are ye goin’ to do?”
She shook her head. “I’ll have to tell them eventually.”
“At least ye don’t have to worry about the clan lettin’ it slip.”
She gave him a befuddled frown.
“Didn’t Ian tell ye?” he said. “He spoke to Isabel. She told him to tell her friends that nothing was to be said about hostages. She said the word would spread like wildfire.”
Hallie smiled. Of course it would. Nothing was a more effective channel for relaying information than a meddlesome young lass. In some ways, Isabel was as much a genius as Ian. Hallie would have to remember to buy her something special at the next fair.
“One way or another, I will have to tell them,” she decided. “I’ll do it tonight after supper.”
“I’ll be here, waitin’.” Then, with charming uncertainty, he straightened his cotun. “Do I look all right?”
She grinned. She’d thought he was handsome before his bath. Now that his hair was shining and golden, and the smudges were gone from his face, he looked irresistible.
On impulse, she rushed to him, taking that irresistible face in her hands.
“Perfect,” she said. Then she bestowed upon him a kiss full of gratitude. And affection. And longing. A kiss that ended too soon. “Just a few more hours,” she promised.
He wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “Ye’re worth the wait.”
She blushed. “And then we’ll have the rest of our lives together.”
The more she said it, the better it sounded.
Chapter 28
Isabel’s strategy worked. Not a single member of the clan spoke about hostages or even mentioned the names of Jenefer, Feiyan, or Colban an Curaidh all afternoon. Even forthright Ian managed to hold his tongue.
But when her cousins were still missing for dinner, Hallie knew she had to address their absence.
As it turned out, her mother wished to speak with her and her aunts in private after dinner. The four of them repaired to the solar.
Hallie closed the door, and while she had the courage, before her mother could begin, she turned to them and blurted out, “I need to tell you about Jenefer and Feiyan.”
“Bloody hell. I knew it.” Helena scowled, then collapsed onto a chair. “What has Jenefer done now?” Her daughter was constantly getting into trouble and dragging Feiyan into it.
“Are they all right?” Miriel’s dark brows furrowed in concern as she settled onto another chair.
“Aye. They’re safe and unharmed.” She prayed she was right about that.
“But?” her mother prodded, crossing her arms.
Hallie paced, carefully laying out what had happened, step by step. How the three cousins had hatched up the scheme to frighten the Highlanders away. How Jenefer had stolen away on her own and Hallie and Feiyan had followed her. How they’d ended up in a midnight scrap with Morgan Mor mac Giric and ended up as the Highlander’s “guests.” And how Hallie had managed to escape.
Her mother listened with cool detachment.
Helena muttered curses under her breath.
Miriel narrowed her eyes, as if looking for gaps in the story.
“You should know,” Hallie concluded, “when I left, I took a counter hostage.”
“A hostage!” Helena shot to her feet, fire in her eyes. “Where is this hostage?”
Miriel gave Helena’s skirts a chiding yank. “If you damage Hallie’s hostage, ’twill give the Highlander reason to damage his.”
“Exactly,” Hallie explained. “’Twas only for leverage and only for a little while, to ensure the continued safety of Jenefer and Miriel until the king’s official decree could be delivered.”
“This decree?” her mother said, pulling a rolled parchment from her satchel that had the king’s seal.
Hallie stared at the missive. So much depended on that small scrap of parchment. Her future. Colban’s future. The future of the clan.
“Sit down, Hallie,” her mother suggested.
Hallie sank into the chair behind her. But she felt no less nervous about what the document might contain.
“I have to admit,” her mother continued, “your story complicates matters a bit.”
“A bit?” Helena snorted, flopping back down into her chair.
Her mother silenced Helena with a dark look, then spoke to Hallie. “First, you should know the king plans to award Creagor to Jenefer.”
Hallie nodded. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
How would Colban feel about losing Creagor? Would he be true to his word? Would he remain here and marry her? Or would he follow his laird and his clan back to the Highlands?
“But the request was granted on certain conditions,” her mother ad
ded.
“Conditions?” She supposed that wasn’t unusual. That was how negotiations were made. There might be an extra forty days of service in the king’s army this year or an annual rent from Creagor in the form of crops or livestock. “What conditions?”
Her mother glanced at her two sisters, who lowered their gazes to the floor. “I insisted we speak with you first before confirming anything. As a formality.”
Hallie frowned. Why would they need her permission?
Deirdre’s calm voice belied the impact of her words. “The king has arranged a marriage for you.”
Hallie’s world seemed to suddenly tilt off its axis.
A marriage?
Surely she’d heard wrong.
“A marriage?” Her voice came out on a faint wheeze.
“Aye.”
She felt ill.
A silent scream built in her throat.
Now a bridegroom had been chosen for her?
Now, when she’d just met her perfect match?
It couldn’t be true, she told herself. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when she’d only last night cast her die upon the table of fate and come up with a winning number.
Surely there was some mistake.
Her aunts were fond of mischief. Perhaps it was all a grand jest on their part, meant to rattle her.
But a quick glance at their guilty faces told her the truth. Her future had been decided. She’d been promised to another.
She swallowed back grief. Her heart ached as if mortally wounded.
Swiftly, before it could crack apart, she erected a frosty coat of armor around it. If she couldn’t protect her feelings, she’d hold them together with duty and dignity.
She clenched her fists and her jaw, telling herself she had always known it would be thus. She had always known she was a pawn to be sacrificed for Rivenloch’s gain.
It had been folly to imagine it would be otherwise. To imagine she’d somehow be allowed to have a husband of her own choosing.
“I see,” Hallie said, strangling her tears.
She did see. It was written in their faces. Though her mother sought her approval of the match, they all desperately hoped Hallie would give them no grief. After all, Jenefer’s fate relied upon Hallie’s cooperation. And defying the king was a risky prospect.
Pain filled her heart. Despair drowned her soul. But she somehow managed to choke out, “Then I suppose I must make plans.”
Her Aunt Helena’s sigh of relief was unsubtle. “That’s half the battle then.”
Miriel cuffed her for her rudeness. She addressed Hallie gently. “I’m sure Jenefer will be so grateful.”
Her mother smiled proudly at her sisters. “I told you Hallie would do the right thing.”
Those words of praise should have made Hallie glow. Instead, her answering smile was forced and numb with cold. Mustering as much dignity as she could, she nodded her head in farewell, and moved toward the door.
Her mother asked, “Hallie? Don’t you want to know who your betrothed is?”
“Nay.” It wasn’t Colban. That was all that mattered. “What difference does it make?”
She would let no one see her cry. She managed to leave the solar, concealing her suffering and containing her tears all the way back to her bedchamber. But by the time she reached her door, her eyes were bleary with moisture, and her throat ached with grief.
Only when she was safely behind the closed door did she bury her face in her hands. Then her tears spilled forth like the waters of a rain-swollen spring.
“Hallie?”
She gasped in a ragged sob of surprise. She’d forgotten Colban was here. And now, looking at him through tear-blurred eyes—so handsome and concerned and heroic—she felt her heart splinter into a thousand painful shards.
He’d been drinking by the fire. At her sob, he set down the cup and hurried forward, folding her in his arms.
Anguish unexpectedly poured out of her in a harsh howl of despair.
“Och, Hallie,” he said, stroking her hair with trembling fingers. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
His compassion only made things worse. It would have been better if he’d been embarrassed by her tears. Or vexed with her for weeping like a child. Then she could have pretended she was better off without him.
But he was neither embarrassed nor vexed. Not even knowing why she was upset, still he was empathetic. The more she thought about that, the worse she felt about losing a treasure like him. And the more she cried, the harder it was to tell him what was wrong.
“There, lass,” he crooned in her ear. “Has someone…died?”
She shook her head.
“Your parents are well?”
She nodded.
He sighed. “It can’t be that dire, can it?”
She replied with a wail.
Dear God, how was she going to live without him?
How could she bear to be wed to another when her heart belonged to Colban an Curaidh?
Colban felt Hallie’s despair as if it were his own. He might not know the cause of her tears. But he felt her heartache. And her soul-wrenching sobs made him feel utterly helpless.
Wolves he could face.
An army he could battle.
But this kind of sorrow was a formidable foe.
The best he could do was hold her quaking body. Murmur reassurances against her damp hair. Let her drench his cotun with her tears until she ran dry.
Then perhaps he could discover what was wrong.
He ran through several possibilities in his mind.
Perhaps the king had awarded Creagor to Morgan, and she was upset on her cousin’s behalf.
That was fine. He’d half expected that outcome. There might be an initial rebellion on the part of Rivenloch, but the clan would abide by the will of the king. They would learn the mac Girics were good neighbors. And the marriage between Hallie and him would help smooth over any conflict between the clans.
Perhaps her parents were upset that Hallie had allowed her cousins to be taken hostage by Morgan.
That was fine as well. Once the ownership of Creagor was settled, the hostage situation could be untangled with no harm done. Morgan couldn’t be blamed for imprisoning hostile attackers. And Hallie couldn’t be blamed for taking a counter hostage. Both had acted in their clans’ best interests.
Perhaps the king had unexpectedly awarded Creagor to Rivenloch.
That was a bit more upsetting. It meant that the mac Girics would be returning to the Highlands. They’d have to go without him, of course. Colban had no intention of breaking his vow to Hallie. As the future laird of her clan, she must remain at Rivenloch. And so would he.
Perhaps she was having regrets about agreeing to marry him. Perhaps, now that she’d spoken with her parents and had a whole day to consider her actions, she felt shame and remorse for what she’d surrendered.
That was not fine. That possibility made his throat close and his heart thump woodenly in his chest.
He would allow her to back out, of course, if she wished. It was a lass’s prerogative to change her mind. Losing her would tear him up inside. But he didn’t want a wife who didn’t love him with all her being.
He continued to hold her, smoothing her hair and absorbing her sobs, until they subsided and all that remained were hitching sniffles.
She stepped away then to gather her wits and wipe away her tears. Her eyes were raw. Her nose was red. Her cheeks were flushed. And yet she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. It tore at his heart to see his magnificent warrior lass so distraught.
She looked him in the eyes and tried to speak. But even that small connecting glance made her chin start quivering again. Biting her lip, she turned away, toward the window.
“I want you to know,” she said, “I…care for you.”
“I care for ye as well, lass.” But a shiver of doubt went up his spine at her words. Caring for him wasn’t what had made her weep.
�
�I will always care for you,” she said.
His heart stilled. Here it came. “But?”
“But…” She forced herself to face him. “We’ve both sworn to do what’s best for clan and country, aye?”
“Aye.” It was what they’d discussed last night. How their marriage would unite their people and strengthen Scotland against the English.
“Creagor…Creagor has been awarded to Rivenloch.”
He blinked in astonishment. He’d been so certain the king would respect tradition and the passing of property from father to son. But perhaps the new king was more malleable than the last.
“I see.” He let out a sigh, but it was hard to be angry about the decision, not when it was what Hallie had wanted all along. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order.” Still, he couldn’t help but feel a wee bit bitter on Morgan’s behalf. “Your parents must wield great influence indeed.”
Morgan would be disappointed by the decision. Not for his own sake. But for the sake of his clan, who had made the long journey to the Lowlands for naught and would now have to return in defeat.
But Colban also felt sorry for Morgan as a friend. Life had been particularly cruel to him of late. This would be yet another tragedy for him to bear.
Hallie, however, seemed to be as upset about the outcome as he was. Why should she be upset when she’d gotten what she wanted?
Was it possible she didn’t understand his promise? Did she fear he might return to the Highlands with his clan?
“I gave ye my word, Hallie,” he assured her. “I said I’d wed ye, and I meant it. Even if the mac Girics are no longer welcome here, I intend to do what’s right by ye. I promise.”
That only made tears well again in her eyes. “I know,” she choked out. “But you should know that winning Creagor for Jenefer came at a cost.”
“A cost?”
Her face had grown as pale and still as a chalk cliff. Her quiet manner chilled him to the bone.
“The king has arranged a marriage for me.”
The world stood suddenly still.
As still as her face.
Colban felt frozen in time, unable to move. Or speak. Or breathe.
His thoughts, however, careened onward, racing through incomprehension and disbelief. He was unable to grasp the impossibility of her words. Unwilling to accept what she’d just told him.
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