*
On what had turned out to be the most surprising day of her life, Caitlin steeled her heart against disappointment when the steward approached and spoke to Shaw. “Mayhap, if ye and yer bride take yer places at the high table, Laird Drummond and Laird Blair might temper their enthusiasm for argument.”
Shaw squeezed her hand. “We can but try.”
She knew as well as he that this was just the beginning of what might turn into a difficult few sennights until the wedding, and then there was no guarantee of peace between their fathers.
“I think our younger siblings are already on our side,” she remarked as Shaw led her to the high table. “Perhaps, if we convinced Rory and Fiona.”
As soon as the words were spoken, she recognized their futility. Rory and Fiona were just as embroiled in the argument as their fathers.
A loud cough from a harried Davidson silenced the racket. “If ye please, my lairds,” he hissed between gritted teeth. “Cease this caterwauling and let the betrothed couple be seated. We can only be grateful Sir John and his lady willna be in attendance.”
Caitlin was strangely disappointed by the news. She was glad the castle’s regally appointed governor wouldn’t witness her family’s behavior. However, his absence underlined how insignificant this event was. She and Shaw were likely one of dozens of couples obliged to submit to unwanted marriages. It was nothing short of a miracle that she’d been pledged to the right man.
She and her betrothed took their places. Fiona, Gordon, Logan and Brodie Drummond sat to Shaw’s right. Caitlin ventured a smile at Fiona, receiving a scowl in return. Pouting mightily, Laird Drummond drummed his fat fingers on the table. “Winning over my future father-by-marriage seems an insurmountable task,” she whispered to Shaw.
“No more difficult than my endearing myself to yer sire,” he replied.
She glanced to her left. Her scowling father sat at the end of the table, a mirror image of the Drummond laird. “Two stubborn men,” she replied.
“Not to mention yer brother,” he added.
She smiled at Rory, but he was too busy glaring at Fiona Drummond to notice.
Only Nairn’s face glowed with happiness for her older sister.
“No matter what,” Shaw whispered, reaching for her hand under the table. “We will wed, and I will make ye mine.”
His promise and the warmth of his skin bolstered her confidence.
*
“I havena attended a betrothal banquet before this,” Shaw confessed to Caitlin. “Are they always this somber?”
The two sullen lairds at either end of the table had managed to communicate their resentments to the assembled gathering. Guests ate and drank quietly, their unease made worse by Rory Blair and Fiona looking daggers at each other.
The celebration of a lass’ betrothal ought to be a memorable, happy occasion, and he fumed both families were denying his bride her due.
“I suppose we are foolish to expect the feud to be over just because ye and I wish it,” Caitlin replied.
“’Tis over as far as I am concerned,” he insisted, watching the steward go from table to table. “Davidson is doing his best to lighten the mood, but it might have helped if they’d served better food and finer wine.”
Caitlin nodded at the slab of fatty mutton on her plate. “I’m too nervous to eat anyway. My father refused to contribute coin to the feast, though he seems to nay object to the bitter taste of the wine.”
“My sire refused too,” Shaw revealed, concerned his own father was over-imbibing. “So, the kitchens have done what they could with meager funds. The king’s benevolence evidently didna stretch to venison.”
Caitlin smiled, but tapped a warning finger to her lips. Her blush sent blood rushing to Shaw’s groin. He leaned close to her ear. “Crivvens, Wife, yer smile does things to me,” he whispered.
Her blush deepened. He wondered if it spread across her breasts.
“I canna get close enough to ye,” she replied, leaning into him. “Though we are drawing my father’s attention.”
Shaw worried. He expected a tongue lashing from his father and sister later, but he was strong enough to stand up to them. Caitlin would be defenseless against the censure of her family. “I think ye should return to Drummond with me and stay until the wedding.”
“Nay,” Fiona shrieked, nigh on deafening him. “A lass canna live with her betrothed. ’Tis unseemly.”
Shaw cursed under his breath. Clearly, his sister had been eavesdropping.
Before he had the chance to reply, Rory Blair rose, throwing his napkin to the floor. “What’s this, Shaw Drummond? Ye wish to sully my sister’s reputation?”
That was all it took to get Laird Blair to his feet. He swayed, one hand gripping the table while he shook a bony finger at Shaw. “I might have kent it. Drummonds never change. Just like the murderous wretches who stole away Laird Blair’s wife all those years ago and kilt him when he tried to rescue his fair Brianna.”
“Nay!” Brodie Drummond thundered, banging his fist on the table.
Like everyone else in the hall, Shaw was startled by his father’s outburst, though he might have expected it. The accusation differed from the tale he’d been told all his life.
“’Twas the thieving Blairs who kidnapped our laird’s wife and violated her,” his father shouted at the top of his lungs.
Spectacle
The grim-faced steward did his best to soothe ruffled feathers and bring the gathering under control. However, Rory recognized his father was too far into his cups to even hear anyone else’s voice, especially one calling for calm.
The stricken look on Caitlin’s tear-streaked face angered him. Rory wasn’t sure who was more deserving of the blame—Laird Drummond for uttering a preposterous version of the feud’s beginnings or his own father for not keeping his mouth shut in the first place. As usual, he’d overimbibed and lost control of his tongue.
Too late, Rory realized with a sinking heart his own outburst had contributed to the uproar. He was more like his father than he wanted to admit. He’d ruined his sister’s happiness—for it was clear Caitlin was content with the betrothal—but his first loyalty was to his father as head of the clan. Laird Blair had declared the betrothal cancelled, so, it was cancelled.
Everyone at the high table was on their feet, except Shaw and Caitlin who clung to each other like shipwreck survivors cling to driftwood in defiance of the tempest.
Accusations flew like poisoned arrows.
Guests rushed to the dais in an effort to keep the belligerent fathers apart.
Fiona Drummond scowled, though she looked as confused and perplexed as Rory felt. He didn’t know what to make of a ludicrous compulsion welling in his heart. He wanted to apologize to her.
The color had drained from the stunned faces of Nairn and the young Drummond lads. The union between Shaw and Caitlin offered a glimmer of hope for a peaceful future for the bairns, but the ongoing furor had snuffed out any chance of it coming to fruition.
*
Caitlin had been raised to hate Drummonds, loyalty to her clan the mantra underpinning her life.
The intensity of her feelings for Shaw challenged everything she’d ever believed. Her duty was to obey her father and accept his declaration the betrothal was null and void.
But she had sworn to honor the man to whom she was now betrothed, and her new duty was clear. “I willna go with them,” she promised Shaw as her brother tried to pry her away.
For a moment, she thought Rory might take her part. He hesitated, but then clenched his jaw and insisted. “Ye must come.”
Shaw intervened, pulling her closer. “She is my wife.”
Rory shook his head. “Nay. ’Tis annulled.”
The nightmare worsened for Caitlin when Shaw shoved her brother. Two men she cared for were soon rolling around on the floor of Stirling’s Great Hall, exchanging bare-knuckle blows. The misery deepened when Fiona Drummond joined the fray, kicking Rory and screaming
like a banshee. Caitlin had no choice but to pull her off. Next thing she knew, she and Fiona were wrestling with each other, scratching and pulling hair.
A contingent of Borderers burst into the hall. Davidson ordered the soldiers to break up the melee, then had Nairn, Gordon and Logan escorted away from the fracas. “I want every Drummond and every Blair out of this castle within the hour,” the steward bellowed, his face red as a winter beetroot. “And may God have mercy on ye when His Majesty hears of this. Now, get thee gone.”
Panting hard, aware her hair was a tangled mess and her borrowed gown ripped, Caitlin watched soldiers escort Shaw and his family out of the hall. His face was bruised, his plaid in disarray, but she understood the message when their eyes met. He would move heaven and earth to honor their betrothal.
She allowed Rory to take her arm, smugly happy to see Shaw had managed to blacken her brother’s eye. “Ye’ve destroyed my chance at happiness,” she hissed as the soldiers escorted them back to their chambers.
*
Shaking with anger, Fiona stared at the closed door after the soldier pushed her none too gently into the cupboard and told her to pack her belongings.
Her new gown was torn, probably ruined, though she’d likely never have another opportunity to wear a fine frock. The Drummonds would be the laughingstock of Scotland. They’d a drunken sot for a laird, and a daughter who kicked men and made a spectacle of herself fighting with women.
“I tried so hard to be a lady,” she lamented, brushing away a tear.
She struggled to get the gown over her head, not caring when the bodice tore further.
The fear she’d lost her brother’s love lay like a lead weight in her belly. She’d never seen Shaw so angry. He was right she had no business eavesdropping on a private conversation between a man and his future bride. Things had gotten out of hand so quickly. If she hadn’t blurted out a stupid remark—as if Shaw was the kind of man who would sully his bride’s reputation. Caitlin didn’t appear to be a woman of low morals.
Dressed once again in traveling clothes, her few possessions packed and ready to go, she perched on the edge of the mattress, dreading the summons to join the men of her family.
Where There’s a Will
A wild, crazed creature raged inside Shaw. The Drummond clan had been offered a chance to end a feud that had cost hundreds of lives over the centuries. The arrangement to marry Caitlin Blair was a gift from God, though it hadn’t seemed so at the time.
In a matter of minutes, hatred had not only resurrected the clan feud, it had torn his family apart and set them at odds with the king. With his belongings packed and ready, he sat on the edge of the bed, pondering what he was going to say to Fiona.
He’d already lashed out at his father who lay snoring on his own bed, having passed out midway through Shaw’s tirade. It was doubtful he fully grasped the extent of the harm he’d wrought. Nothing would shake his belief in the veracity of his version of how the feud started, nor convince him the feud should end.
However, Fiona was an intelligent woman. Surely she could see the benefits of this marriage for the Drummond clan? Was she as trapped in the past as her sire, or simply jealous Shaw had found a woman he could love? Either way, he doubted he would ever be able to forgive her. She must have known her outburst would set their father off.
Gordon and Logan perched either side of him on the bed.
“Does this mean we willna see Nairn Blair again?” Gordon asked.
Shaw clenched his jaw, still in the grip of his anger. He had no answer. “I dinna ken.”
“I like her,” Logan said softly.
“And ye like Lady Caitlin,” Gordon murmured.
“More than like,” Shaw confessed. “’Tis hard to explain, but I kent the moment I saw her she was the lass for me.”
Gordon took his hand. “Then ye canna give up. Mamie always said ‘To him that will, ways are nay wanting.’”
He spread his arms around both boys’ shoulders. “Ye’re right,” he replied, the memory of their beloved mother tightening his throat. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. We just willna tell Fiona what it is when we settle on a plan.”
“Aye,” his brothers whispered, grinning conspiratorially.
*
“I’m sorry about the gown,” Caitlin sobbed as Avril helped her get the soiled frock over her head.
“’Tis soon mended. I heard what happened,” the maid replied. “Such a bonny man, and now everything is ruined.”
“How do ye ken Shaw Drummond is a bonny man?” Nairn asked.
“I bumped into him in the corridor,” Avril answered without hesitation. “I kent right away ye’d be impressed.”
The thought of losing the chance to wed Shaw gnawed at Caitlin’s heart. “I was more than impressed,” she confessed, sniffling back tears.
Nairn slipped off the edge of the bed. “I liked his brothers too. It seems silly to think of them as enemies.”
Caitlin stared at her little sister. “Silly is exactly the right word.” Nairn’s innocent remark filled her with renewed courage. “We must find a way to undo the harm.”
“Rory willna be of any help,” Nairn replied. “Did ye see the black eye Shaw Drummond gave him? And Papa didna listen to a word ye screamed at him when he ordered ye confined to Ardblair.”
Avril snorted. “I dinna tell my brother everything,” she said pointedly. “Only what he wants to hear.”
Caitlin offered up a silent prayer of thanks for this unlikely ally. “Can ye get a message to Shaw?” she asked. “Without his sister knowing of it.”
“Lady High and Mighty, ye mean. What’s the message?”
“Tell him I’ll search for the tunnel.”
*
The humiliation of being summarily marched out of Stirling Castle by the King’s Borderers churned Shaw’s gut. Not one of the soldiers thought to help Fiona mount her horse, and he was damned if he’d offer his sister even a smidgen of assistance. She’d pointedly avoided meeting his gaze as they were escorted along the endless corridors to the exit.
As far as he was concerned, she could twist in the wind for a while. He’d tolerated her willfulness for too long. Now, his life lay in disarray, his clan on the outs with the king. What on earth did it matter how the feud started? Ending it was the goal. Exasperating as his father was, he’d never wished for his sire’s death, but now he thirsted to be laird of Clan Drummond with all his heart. Then he’d have the power to right the wrongs.
He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. There’d still be Laird Blair to deal with if he wanted Caitlin, as well as her brother whose eye he’d almost put out.
His betrothed might have lost interest in him after the brawl. Blood ties ran deep. For all Fiona’s faults, he acknowledged he’d eventually forgive her for dragging Caitlin into a cat fight.
His mood lightened a tad. Fiona’s anger was intimidating, but Caitlin had challenged her and given as good as she got.
Eyes fixed on the cobblestoned bailey, his sister rode by him in the wake of their cantankerous father. Gordon and Logan followed. Shaw was about to set his horse in motion when a maidservant appeared and reached for the reins. He recognized the chit who’d shown them the way to the chapel.
“I’ve a message,” she said with a quick glance at the rest of his departing family.
“From whom?”
“Lady Caitlin says she’ll search for the tunnel.”
Shaw inhaled deeply. “Tell her I’ll do the same,” he replied with a smile.
Homecomings
For Rory, the forty-five mile trek north and west through Perth to Ardblair seemed more like a journey of a thousand leagues.
He could barely keep his blighted eye open, and his nose pained him.
Caitlin had the skill to tend his wounds but was clearly determined not to speak to him, let alone ease his pain. Shaw Drummond packed a powerful punch, but Rory supposed he might have done the same if someone had tried to separate him from
a woman he cared about. Drummond had fought like a man possessed—for Caitlin.
Nairn was naturally on her sister’s side, and their father was being his usual sullen, unapproachable self, a prisoner of hatreds that had determined the course of his life.
The armed clansmen who served as escort seemed to want to keep their distance. They were obviously aware of what had happened. In the blink of an eye, Clan Blair had brought ridicule upon itself and incurred the wrath of the king. The ordinary folk of the clan would resent that.
Of course, his father would have a different view of events. It was no wonder accounts of what had happened hundreds of years ago differed sharply.
Perhaps, it was time to wrench the chieftaincy from his father’s manic grasp.
The worst part was the divide that now existed between Rory and his sisters. Neither one spoke to him during the journey. He’d played a part in destroying what would clearly have been a beneficial marriage, for Caitlin and the clan.
His sweet sister had even become embroiled in a tussle with Fiona Drummond. It was a source of some satisfaction she’d held her own against the she-cat.
The memory sobered him. Fiona was as guilty as he for the catastrophic outcome of the banquet. They were two of a kind. He wondered if she felt as trapped as he did between old hatreds, clan loyalty and the hope for a peaceful future.
*
Apart from excursions to Edinburgh to purchase furniture for Drummond Castle, Stirling was the farthest Fiona had ever traveled in the thirty years since her birth. Despite the upheaval King William’s meddling had wrought, she’d secretly looked forward to the chance to visit the historic castle and to mingle with other gentlefolk besides her family—and servants who usually gave her a wide berth.
As the eldest and only lass, she had gradually fallen into the role of dominant unwed sister. When she was of marriageable age, her father’s belligerent attitude had deterred every suitor. Abandoning dreams of a husband and family had been hard and taken many years. She acknowledged inwardly the struggle had left her bitter. The barren life of a spinster wasn’t what she’d envisioned for herself when she was young and naive.
Kilty Party Page 4