by Paula Quinn
“Well, then,” the woman called out as she walked away. “Yer dilemma is solved.”
“But I’m still here!” Sina shouted back at her. Oh, dear God, what was she going to do? She looked around. There were many people around, coming and going, from house to house or to the castle.
There were children everywhere, laughing, running through the spring flowers with dogs at their feet. Women hung clothes up to dry and stopped to gather and share gossip.
Probably about her, if their gazes on her were any indication. Was talking scandal as popular here as it was at court?
She straightened her shoulders and made her way toward the castle in her wrinkled gown. She’d go to her room and pen her father and poor William a letter. God only knew how she’d deliver them—or if the MacGregors had any quills or parchment. She had to do something. She had to speak to Anne, or have someone speak to Anne for her. She would do anything for the queen. Anything but live among the uncultured and wild. Men who raided cattle and called it honorable. She was afraid of never going back home. Afraid of spending the rest of her life here hidden from society in the mist-covered mountains of nowhere, denied what she’d always hoped for. She thought she might go mad thinking about it.
“I see ye met Maggie.”
Sina turned to Adam’s mother coming up behind her and tossed the gray hound from the dining hall a hesitant look.
“Oh, dinna worry about Bronwyn,” the chief’s wife sang. “She wouldn’t hurt a mouse.”
Sina looked into the hound’s honey-colored eyes and then at its white fangs when the beast licked its chops.
“Dinna ye have dogs at court?” Davina asked.
Sina nodded, pulling her gaze from the dog to the lady. Heavens, but she was lovely, with the same pale blond hair as her daughter, hanging in a long braid over her shoulder. Everything about her though was smaller than Abigail, save her enormous silvery-blue eyes. “They are smaller, and I know them.”
“Our gels will protect ye,” Davina assured and set her elegant hand on Bronwyn’s fur. “Ye have nothing to fear from them.”
“And the male?” Sina asked. “Goliath?”
Her mother-in-law quirked her mouth and looked away. “He is verra protective of my son, but if he knows Adam disapproves of something, Goliath will never do it.”
Well, that was a relief to hear, at least. Sina didn’t want the chief’s wife to think her too delicate to be around dogs, so she decided to stop worrying about them.
“So, who is Maggie?”
“Adam’s great-aunt, Margaret MacGregor,” Davina told her. “She was one of the first people to find refuge here.”
“Refuge from what?” Sina asked her. There was something about the chief’s wife that drew Sina to her. Her wide eyes were like fathomless pools of compassion and grace. Her smile was gentle and kind.
“From persecution because of her name. From life in a dungeon.”
Sina’s eyes opened wide, and she looked in the direction Maggie had taken. “She spent time in a dungeon?”
“Aye. When she was a child, she was locked in a small cage fer many years until her brother, Callum, who was imprisoned with her, killed the earl’s entire garrison on his own and rescued her. ’Twas many years past. He built Camlochlin and brought her and any other persecuted MacGregors here.”
Sina’s dry mouth made it difficult to swallow. Who would do such a vile thing to a child? And who was this Callum MacGregor that he could take down an entire garrison alone?
“Where is he now?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to meet such a fearsome man.
“He and his wife are visiting his grandson Patrick and his family in Pinwherry. They’ll all return in the fall. Maggie adores him and all his bairns. Dinna feel sorry fer her,” the chief’s wife confided with a playful smile. “She’s no meek little flower and eats most of these big, brawny men fer breakfast. Be thankful she is almost always on the women’s side.”
Sina found herself smiling genuinely for the first time since she’d arrived. She thought she might get along well with Maggie under different conditions, and with Davina too.
But the queen’s betrayal hurt too much to trust again. So many people in her life had abandoned her. First her parents, and even William when he went off on the tour. Anne had known how she felt and still sent her here. How could she ever learn to trust people she didn’t know, when people she did know let her down?
The MacGregors might not be responsible for all this, but right now, they were all she had to blame. She did her best to keep her voice soft and nonthreatening when any of them spoke to her, but she wasn’t sure how long that would last. She suspected that the more days she spent here, cast out of court, the more difficult it was going to be to hold back her tears.
“Come.” Adam’s mother looped her arm through Sina’s and walked with her. The top of her head reached Sina’s shoulder, but she walked with the regal elegance of a queen. When she spoke again, her voice, along with her gaze, was warm and inviting. “Let’s go share a cup of wine in the solar. Ye can rest. I’m sure ye’re weary, aye?”
“Yes,” Sina confessed. “I didn’t sleep at all last eve.”
“Come, then.” Davina’s serene voice seeped through her. “I will tend to ye myself.”
“No, you’re the—”
“Please, ye’ve been through enough. I dinna mind at all.”
Sina wasn’t sure what to say. Davina MacGregor was a thoughtful, humble woman, unlike most of the ladies at court. She was refined and different than the other women here, who laughed and called out to one another with more vigor.
“You’re very kind,” Sina allowed.
“We all are,” Davina assured. “Some of the men may bluster about from time to time, but they are harmless. More often than not ye’ll find them picking heather.”
Sina eyed her as they entered the castle. Picking heather?
Her mother-in-law continued speaking while she led Sina upstairs to the solar, a cavernous chamber bathed in golden light from the tall arched windows and the roaring flames of the great hearth. Despite its size, it invoked a feeling of comfort and warmth with colorful tapestries hung amid paintings and bookshelves. Bookshelves? Sina thought with surprise and a bit of delight. Did the chief’s wife read? She couldn’t help herself and moved toward the lined volumes. Some titles she knew, some she did not.
“You have many books.”
“Och, that’s nothing compared to my mother-in-law’s grand library. From the great hall, ’tis two lefts and a right.”
They read. She hadn’t expected it. Had she judged them solely on their appearance? On gossip?
Ornately carved tables sat amid a dozen oversized, overstuffed chairs upholstered in different dyed linens. Each table hosted an array of things, from books and flagons of beaten bronze to chess sets.
“Who plays chess?” she asked curiously.
“Everyone,” Davina answered lightly and moved forward to pour their drinks. She passed a beautiful settee and a large fur rug beside it.
Everyone played chess. Who were they? How did they live without the luxury of cobblestone streets, where one could actually stroll? Without shops and theaters, universities or coffeehouses?
Two particularly large chairs sat close to the hearth. Davina pointed to one and handed Sina her cup.
“What else can I get ye?” she offered. “Are ye hungry? A blanket?”
“No, nothing else. Thank you,” Sina told her and sipped her drink. It was warm going down.
Davina fell into the matching enormous chair and tucked her feet under her while Bronwyn curled up before the fire. “Would ye like to speak about yer family? Yer father—”
“My father is not a part of my family.”
The door opened and Adam’s father stepped inside. He certainly was handsome, like his son, with inky black hair that was gray at the temples. He was tall and as broad as a mountain—certainly able to fill these chairs.
“Och, Robbie, darling,
would ye mind coming back later?” his wife called out from her chair.
Sina watched him murmur something under his breath. But he smiled at her and left without quarrel.
“Do ye read?” Davina asked when they were alone.
“Yes. Do you?” Sina asked hopefully.
“Of course.”
“You weren’t raised here, were you?” Sina asked, taking another sip of her wine.
“Nae, I was raised in an abbey.”
That explained her grace and poise—
The door opened again. Sina looked up at another handsome, dark-haired man about the same age as the chief. His silver gaze skipped over her, and his mouth hooked into a smile.
“Robbie isna here, Will,” Davina informed him with a charming smile. “My daughter and I are having some wine.” She lifted her cup and waited for him to leave.
When they were alone again, Davina sat back in her big chair and pulled a nearby woolen blanket over her. “That was Will.”
Sina thought she might be a little light-headed from the wine, for she covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. She didn’t know why she found it humorous that her host would tell her the man’s name when she’d just called him Will.
“He’s our cousin,” her host continued. “He lives here with Aileas, his wife, and their sons. Dinna worry, I’ll make certain to introduce ye to everyone tonight at the gathering.”
Sina coughed on the sip of wine she was taking and looked up. “Gathering?”
“Aye.” Davina’s huge eyes opened wider with excitement. “In the great hall. I thought it would be a good way for us all to get acquainted. This was a small raiding trip, so Adam should be back in time.”
Sina liked Adam’s mother. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her feelings, but she didn’t want to attend any gathering. She didn’t want to be welcomed into the fold. She wanted them to help her get home.
She put down her cup and tried to gather her resolve around her. She leaned forward in her chair and clutched the folds of her skirts. “My lady, after all your kindness, it pains me greatly to say this, but I think this is all some kind of terrible mistake.” She paused but then continued. She’d started. She might as well tell her everything. “I am promised to someone else. Someone I love. My wish is to go back to him.”
As Sina suspected, Adam’s mother didn’t take it well. She pulled off her blanket and freed her legs from under her. “Does my son know?” she asked softly. Her eyes glistened in the hearth light.
Sina wanted to weep at how unfortunate this was for all of them, how cruel her words must sound to her groom’s mother. But she wouldn’t cry. Not again. “Yes, he knows.”
Chapter Five
Adam looked across Camlochlin’s vast great hall and watched his wife mingling with his kin. He scowled into his cup thinking about having to go to her and stand at her side while his endless list of kin introduced themselves to her. This “gathering” was his mother’s idea. She’d cornered him the instant he’d returned from the raid and told him about the celebration she’d planned without his consent—or Sina’s—and that he had but a short while to make himself presentable.
It was what his mother hadn’t told him that pricked at him. His bride had told her she loved another man. Adam could read it in his mother’s softer, kinder expressions. She felt sorry for him.
She should.
But he didn’t want her to.
“If ye want to stow away on the ship, just let me know.”
Adam turned to look into the vivid blue eyes of his cousin Caitrina. She winked and offered him a deeply dimpled smile.
But it wasn’t such a poor idea. Poseidon’s Adventure was a big enough ship and he wouldn’t have to stow away, since it belonged to his cousin.
“Can we leave now? Ye know how I hate these things.”
“Ye mean havin’ to spend a little time with everyone? Aye, I know.”
“Ye did good on the raid today, Trina,” he told her, changing the topic before the temptation to flee became too great to resist. “’Tis good to have ye and Risa home.” He smiled at the blond hound baring her fangs at her brother, Goliath. “Alex too.”
“’Tis good to be home.” His cousin looped her arm through his and reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek.
“I never thought I’d see the day ye were wed.”
“Nor did I,” he murmured. “Keep the ship close by.”
“Come, introduce me to her. She looks a bit overwhelmed.”
“Aye,” he said. Sina looked weary and her gaze went distant often, as if she was wishing she were someplace else. “She was taken from her home and family,” he said, not knowing why he felt compelled to defend her.
“Ye should go to her.”
He nodded. It was his duty to see to her comfort whether she wanted it or not—according to his uncles Connor Grant and Tristan, whose advice he’d asked on the way home from the raid in Torrin.
Damn it all to hell. Usually, after a raid, he liked to go off on his own and find comfort in a warm, willing body. He met his wife’s gaze across the hall as he approached with Trina on his arm. She cast him a scornful look and then looked at him no more.
He wasn’t going to find warm and willing tonight.
He let go of his cousin and reached Sina an instant before Trina did. “I’m glad ye didna choose the cliffs,” he murmured, bending to her ear.
“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted,” she whispered back, then set her eyes on Trina.
“May I present my cousin Caitrina, daughter of Connor and Mairi Grant.” He paused to motion with his cup to the couple sharing words with his mother. “Granddaughter of Graham and Claire, whom ye met a few moments ago.”
“Cousin?” his wife echoed, looking, much to Adam’s trained eye, relieved. Why would she be?
“Aye,” he told her with a slight smile, watching to see how her delicate sensibilities would handle it when he told her, “and wife of the notorious pirate Captain Alexander Kidd.” He pointed his cup in the other direction.
“Pirates,” she said, reaching her slender fingers to her earrings. She looked down at the cutlass dangling from Trina’s belts, her beringed fingers, her breeches and boots—and Risa snapping and growling at Goliath.
“And you also have a hound.”
Adam knew she was afraid of his kin, but he wasn’t pleased by her aversion to the dogs.
He waited with her while more of his kin introduced themselves to her. She greeted everyone with polite, mild manners that Adam was sure she’d learned at court. Her obvious—to him, at least—disinterest forced him to be more friendly and open to keep conversations flowing smoothly.
He spotted Will MacGregor and his family coming forward. Will’s dog, Ula, the biggest of Goliath’s sisters, spotted her brother and galloped forward.
Startled, Sina took a step back and bumped into Adam’s chest.
Ula looked up, noticing her and, sensing her fear, grew calm and wagged her tail.
Adam smiled. Ula was the sweetest gel of the brood.
He leaned down and said close to Sina’s ear, “She wants ye to give her a pat.”
“I couldn’t,” she answered, moving closer to him.
“She’s verra bonny, nae?” he said at Sina’s ear, but he wasn’t speaking to her. Ula wagged her tail harder.
Adam reached around and took Sina’s hand. She resisted slightly when he pulled her hand to the dog. “She willna bite,” he promised in a low voice, setting her fingers atop Ula’s silky chocolate-blond fur. “Will ye let her smell ye?”
She nodded, stiffening against him as the dog moved forward to smell her.
After a moment of sniffing Sina’s skirts, Ula rubbed her big head against Sina’s side.
His wife smiled. Adam let go of her hand and watched her stroke Ula’s head.
“She likes you,” Adam’s cousin Duff MacGregor said.
Sina looked up, casting her softest smile on his cousin. It didn’t last longer than an insta
nt before she withdrew her hand from Ula, her body from Adam, and her smile from them all.
Adam’s smile faded as well. As much as he didn’t want to be attending a gathering after a day of raiding, he would have liked her to try to enjoy herself.
“It has been a long day,” she said and hurried through meeting Will’s family.
Adam watched everyone closely and soon realized that most weren’t overly fond of his new bride. They whispered and watched her every expression. It was clear that she didn’t want to be here meeting them. Her smiles were stiff and her greetings were short.
Adam wasn’t sure how fond of her he was either. He thought he’d made some progress with her, with the dogs at least. But the moment she thought something from her most wretched nightmare might like her—and she might like it in return—she backed away. He thought of Caitrina’s ship. Hell, if there was any way out of this without jeopardizing his kin, he would take it.
“Ye could pretend to enjoy yerself,” he murmured.
“I did that two hours ago,” she replied icily. “You weren’t here.”
Hell. She’d been keeping this up for two hours? Alone? He felt like a barbarian for being harsh with her when she hadn’t even complained. “Did ye sleep today?” When she shook her head, he muttered an oath and took her by the hand. “Come,” he said, leading her to a chair. “Sit doun.”
“I don’t want—”
He looked at his hand holding hers. He felt something stir in his guts, something unfamiliar and risky. He didn’t want to ponder it now. He let her go and put his hand on her shoulder to push her down into the chair. He didn’t need to use much strength. She was exhausted. He felt his heart softening for her. He resisted. His heart was his to command. He’d never given it over to the whims of women. He wouldn’t begin now. Wife or not. Besides, she loved another.
“Are ye tryin’ to make yerself ill?” he asked, straddling the chair next to hers. “Mayhap if we pen yer faither that ye’re ill, he’ll come fer ye? Is that what ye think?”