“Thank ye, Laird Drummond,” said Liam, his voice solemn. “My father always spoke very highly of ye and counted ye as a friend. He always said ye were a good man.”
“High praise indeed, coming from a man as honorable as yer father.” Laird Drummond lowered his gaze to the table before him for a short moment before clapping his hands together and waving Iain and Liam forward.
“Enough of these solemn matters. The two of ye are here now, and new friendships are to be made.” He let out a booming laugh as Liam and Iain climbed the steps to the dais and waved them toward the two empty chairs to Laird Drummond’s right.
On his left hand side two of three seats were occupied by two beautiful young women who looked to be near Liam and Iain in age. The older-looking one held herself with an air of dignity wrapped around her that she wore like a mantle. Her deep, rich brown hair was plaited in a single thick braid over one shoulder that reached down to her slender waist. Her features were striking, but she had an air about her that made Liam feel as though any man would be taking his life into his hands if he was to approach her with anything resembling romance on his mind. She was gorgeous and yet completely untouchable. Like a beautiful, poisonous flower.
The younger daughter leaned casually in her chair, laughing as she spoke to her sister and absentmindedly catching a wayward strand of deep auburn hair that had escaped from her ribbon, and brushing it away from her face. Unlike the older sister, she appeared to be much more relaxed. He watched as she took a long drink out of her glass before she continued happily chatting away. Liam knew that there was a third daughter, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“These are my daughters. Lady Aileen, my eldest, and Lady Bridget. I have to make my apologies for my youngest. She will not be joining us for supper.”
The two young women barely glanced up to look at them, but nodded politely before quickly returning to their hushed conversation. Even though it happened quickly, Liam did not miss the looks of irritation on both of the young ladies’ faces. He was not sure if the young women were irritated by the absence of their younger sibling or by the presence of Liam and his. Either way, they did not spare he and Iain another glance.
Liam was fine with that. He would rather be ignored than fawned over by a couple of foolish young lasses with nary a thought in their heads for anything but gossip and fripperies.
Wine and food were quickly brought over to them but Liam could not relax enough to truly enjoy it. After three days in the saddle, he was eager to get down to the business at hand, but Laird Drummond insisted on regaling him with stories of the older man’s youth. Liam made as much idle talk as he could before he thought he would be driven mad with boredom.
“Laird Drummond,” he interjected when it looked as if the other man was preparing to launch into another long story. “The reason we have traveled all this way is because I need to speak with you about a matter of grave importance.”
“Aye, and what’s that then?” Laird Drummond asked as he impaled a piece of meat on the end of his knife.
Liam reminded himself that he must tread carefully. As welcoming as the man had been up until then, he would not take kindly to accusations.
“Reports have made their way to me about reaving on my land. All manner of livestock have been going missing over the past few weeks…” Liam paused and considered how best to continue. “The thefts have all taken place along the border of our lands. Have you by any chance heard similar reports of reaving on yer land as well?”
Liam watched the older man carefully for any sign of reaction to his words, but Laird Drummond did not so much as blink.
“Reavers? Nay, I’ve not heard reports of any. But I don’t see why ye’d come all this way for a bit of pilfering.”
Liam shook his head. “If it were just a bit of pilfering then I wouldn’t have bothered. But I’m not talking about a wee creach. This is robbery pure and simple.”
Laird Drummond chewed carefully as he considered Liam’s words.
“Ye’re a small clan, MacDonell. Perhaps someone is testing ye.”
Liam frowned at the man’s words. The MacDonell clan was not so small as all that. His lands were simply not as vast as those belonging to Laird Drummond. But where The MacDonell’s lacked land they made up for it in the wealth of their resources. The fields were extremely fertile and yielded the heartiest of crops year in and year out. And their livestock was known as some of the best in the highlands. People came from all over Scotland to barter for their prize horses.
“If it’s a fight someone’s after, then it’s one they’ll get,” Liam said firmly.
Something flashed in Laird Drummond’s eyes, but he simply smiled and raised his glass to Liam.
“I have nae doubt, my boy. Yer father was always a fighter. Something I’m sure ye’ve inherited from him. But there’s something to be said for having the support of yer friends, now, isn’t there?”
Liam was puzzled, unsure of what the man was getting at. He glanced over at his brother, but Iain was busy flirting with one of their serving maids, paying no mind to the conversation Liam was having with their host.
“I’m not sure I understand yer meaning, Laird Drummond.”
“I’m sure yer troubles are no more than a temporary situation, but if it turns out that they’re not, and someone is setting up to make a move against ye, I’ve nae doubt that ye’d be grateful for the help my clan could provide ye…”
“It would be very much appreciated, aye,” said Liam hesitantly, unsure of where the auld Laird was leading the conversation.
“Well, then. The only thing for it is for ye to wed one of my daughters.”
Liam froze, not certain if he had heard the man correctly.
“Ye want me to wed one of yer daughters?” he asked slowly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Iain spin toward him, the serving girl instantly forgotten.
“Aye.” Laird Drummond lifted his cup and took a long sip of wine. “There be nothing like a marriage to strengthen an alliance.”
Liam’s gaze slid over to the two young women sitting next to his father. They were not looking in his direction, but Liam could tell by the rigid set of their shoulders that they had heard their father’s suggestion. The red-head turned and shot a look of horror at her father before sliding and icy glance in Liam’s direction.
They were bonnie lasses the both of them, but at eight and twenty Liam had already been married once and had sworn off doing it for a second time. He sat silently a moment, weighing his words carefully, unsure of how to turn down the offer without having a second potential battle on his hands.
“I thank ye for yer offer, Laird Drummond. It is a generous one indeed. But unfortunately, it is one that I will have to turn down, as I will never marry.”
The smile slipped from Laird Drummond’s face, and he lowered his cup of wine. Liam could tell that he had offended the man by refusing the offer, but he simply could not wed one of his daughters. Especially when they were so obviously against the idea. Liam had never been one to force himself on a woman. He didn’t relish the idea of spending the rest of his life with a wife who wanted nothing to do with him. He’d already had some experience of what that was like and was determined to not repeat the experience.
“Are ye refusing my offer of marriage? Are they not bonny enough for ye? Do ye think ye’re above marrying my precious girls?” The Laird’s voice rose with every word, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
“Laird Drummond, I meant no offense to ye or your daughters, sir, I simply… cannot. I have no intentions to marry, now or in the future. If marriage is the price of your help, then the cost ye demand of me is too high, and I have no choice but to seek help elsewhere. I think it might be best if my men and I were on our way.” Liam pushed back his chair and made to rise from his seat, but his movement was halted by Laird Drummond’s hand on his arm.
“Nay. Ye’ve had a long ride. I'll not have it said that my pride drove ye from my table. Spend the n
ight under my roof. Tomorrow ye can be on yer way.”
Laird Drummond waved over a young servant girl and indicated toward Liam and Iain.
“Show Laird MacDonell and his brother to their rooms, lass. They’ll be spending the night.”
Liam and Iain rose from their chairs and bowed stiffly to Laird Drummond and his daughters before following the servant out of the hall.
“Well,” said Iain thoughtfully. “At least he dinna demand we leave.”
“Aye well,” Liam sighed, “there’s still time.”
Chapter 2
The stable was dark and silent except for the sound of sleeping horses. A squat tallow candle burned in its lantern, casting a low light in the stall. It did nothing to ward off the cool night air as Catriona hurried to unsaddle and brush down her horse as quickly and quietly as she could. She tiptoed around the stall, careful to avoid bumping the lantern from its hook while trying to not disturb the other horses in the stable. The last thing she needed was to alert any passing guard to her presence.
A faint shuffling came from above her and Catriona froze. She squeezed her eyes shut and sent up a silent prayer, her fingers clutched tightly to the horse brush in her hands. She had made it this far without discovery, God could not possibly be so cruel as to let her get caught now. She crept out of the stall and looked up at the ledges above her, trying to see who was there, but all she could make out were the shadowy edges of piles of hay.
“Hello?” she whispered quietly, but blessedly, there was no reply.
One of the young stable lads must have fallen asleep in the hay loft. Suddenly, there was more shuffling and a slender arm slipped down over the side of the ledge. She held her breath and waited to see if the boy awoke, but he did not move again. Catriona sighed with relief and grabbed the lantern off of its hook. Careful to not disturb the sleeping stable lad, she slipped silently out of the stable and closed the door firmly behind her.
She had stayed out for far too long, and if her father found out about her sneaking back home at such a late hour, he would blister her ears for her and most likely ban her from leaving the keep as well. She had not meant to stay out for so long. She had fallen asleep in the clearing, and when she awoke the moon had been high in the sky. Time always escaped her when she was painting. It was not as though she defied her father on purpose, but when she had a brush in her hand, the world simply fell away and time held no meaning. Unfortunately, no amount of explaining that to her father would save her from whatever punishment he saw fit to bestow upon her. Her elder sisters accused her of being their father’s favorite, and insisted that he went easier on her than he did on them, but sometimes she felt as though he punished her extra in an attempt to prove them wrong. Tonight was certainly not the night she wanted to put their accusations to the test.
Catriona was cold, hungry, and desperately wanted a bath. She was sore from sleeping on the ground and irritated with herself for missing supper, but she supposed that's what she got for only packing a light lunch with her that morning.
She hurried across the courtyard and up to the main doors of the mansion. As she made her way inside she considered what her chances were of getting caught if she tried to sneak into the kitchen to find something to eat. The promise of cheese and roasted meat called to her but it simply was not worth the risk. She would just have to ignore the rumbling of her stomach and wait until breakfast.
Catriona hurried through the hallways with her small box of paints and brushes clutched close to her chest, and her lantern held high. She made for the staircase, trying to ignore the pangs of hunger as her stomach growled in protest, when an unexpected shadow crossed her path.
“What’s this, now?” A low, rough voice came out of the darkness.
She stifled a scream as a tall man stumbled out of the darkness in front of her. He pressed one hand against the wall to hold himself upright, and Catriona could make out a large, pale-brown stain down the front of his shirt. “What’s such a bonny lass doing out of bed at this hour? Snuck off to see your sweetheart did ye?” he slurred.
The distinct smell of whiskey mingled with the sour odor of vomit assaulted her nose as he shuffled slowly towards her while continuing to lean heavily against the wall.
Catriona clutched her box of painting supplies more closely to her chest and adjusted the lantern so that she could better make out the man’s face. It was still too well hidden with the distance between them being too great from where she was standing.
Her heart pounded and her palms grew damp as a little voice in the back of her head told her to run. She had never been afraid in her own home before. While she could scare conceive of the idea, every part of her being told her that she should flee.
“Do not take one step closer,” she told him as firmly as possible. She had tried to sound commanding, but even she was unconvinced. She could hear the wavering from uncertainty and fear in her own voice, and she did not doubt that he had heard it as well.
The man took a shuffling step forward out of the shadows, at last allowing Catriona to make out his features in the dim light. She studied his face intently, but she was certain that she had never seen him before. He was not one of her father’s men, nor anyone that she could remember having visited the castle before in the past. She did not recognize him at all, so what was he doing inside the manor, and in such a drunken state? Why was he not in the keep? Only the family and her father's most honored guests were offered a room in the manor, and if this man was an honored guest then she would eat her paint brushes.
“Come ‘ere, lass, ‘n givvus a kiss, then. Thassa toll ye must pay me if ye want up these stairs.”
“I’ll not be kissing ye this night or any other. Now, I demand ye let me pass at once.” Emboldened by her ire at his inconceivable demands Catriona squared her shoulders and proceeded forward. She prayed that if she appeared to be unafraid he would lose interest and allow her to pass. Everyone was sure to have gone to bed long ago, so even if she tried to call for help it was unlikely anyone would hear her. Especially as there were no bedchambers on this floor.
Her heart raced as each step she took brought her closer to the drunken stranger. Her eyes stayed fixed on his as she proceeded to step past him, trying to anticipate his movements.
His narrow eyes watched her just as closely as she came near, peering at her intently from the shallow sockets in his long narrow face. A week’s worth of unkept beard grew unevenly along his jaw and down his neck, and the errant thought that the man was in need of a shave was passing through her mind when his hand suddenly lashed out to grab her.
“Just one quick kiss,” the man said, and lunged for her.
With a shriek, Catriona sidestepped him and broke out into a run. She dashed past the drunk man and made for the staircase as quickly as possible. It would be far safer on the upper floors than rushing back out into the darkness of night.
“Hold on, now,” the man said, chasing her up the staircase. “Yer not going to get away that easy.”
Catriona could hear his uneven footsteps behind her and heavy thumping, as though he were falling against the wall as he climbed, but she did not turn around to see. All that mattered was putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.
But she had not moved fast enough. As Catriona reached the top of the stairs, he grabbed her arm. He tugged her backwards. The unexpected force caused her to stumble, and he spun her to face him.
Catriona screamed and dropped her box of painting supplies and the small lantern as she tore herself from his grasp. The flame from the candle went out as the lantern crashed to the ground. They were plunged into darkness. Her attacker lost his balance, and his arms flailed wildly as he tried to right himself on the edge of the top stair. In a desperate attempt to keep himself from tumbling backwards down the tall staircase, he reached out to catch himself but grasped the front of Catriona’s gown as she fled, tearing the front of her bodice almost completely down to her waist.
She ran do
wn the hallway, her heart pounding as if it would leap from her chest, clutching the ragged pieces of her gown together, and tested the door handle of the first bedchamber she came to. Being one of the guest chambers, it was on the first floor of private rooms, and blessedly unlocked.
Relief flooded Catriona’s body as she ran through the door and slammed it shut behind her, before barring it quickly to ensure it would keep out her drunken attacker. With a wee bit of luck he might not have seen which door she had escaped through, and it was unlikely that in his current state he would have the fortitude to test them all just to find her.
Shaking, she fell back against the door and tried to catch her breath while she stared down at the tattered pieces of her gown. She clutched at the ruined fabric and tried to suppress the wave of nausea that suddenly overtook her. Just because she was still a maid it did not mean that she was naïve. She knew full well the type of unspeakable misfortune that could happen to a woman when caught unawares by a man whose intentions were less than honorable. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the terrifying images in her mind of what could have been, but that only made them more vivid.
She opened her eyes with a shuddering breath and forced herself to get ahold of her senses. She had gotten away with little more than a damaged gown and some lost paints, and there was simply no way he would be able to force himself past the barred chamber door. She took another deep breath and her heartbeat began to slow. Everything would be all right. She was safe.
Slowly, she raised her gaze from the floor. Only then did she notice that the room was not unoccupied, as she had first believed it to be. No, there on the bed in front of her, illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from the window, was a very large, very naked man.
Chapter 3
Highland Promise: The Daughters of Clan Drummond Page 2