“Ye’re an absolute vision lass. I’ve never seen a lovelier bride.” Laird Drummond swept his youngest daughter up into a tight hug that lifted her clear off her feet, and kissed her on the cheek before putting her back down again.
“Aye, just look at her happy face,” Brigid muttered snidely under her breath.
“What was that, Brigid?” Laird Drummond asked, frowning at his middle daughter.
“I said, ‘Aye, what a happy day,’ Da,” said Brigid loudly with forced cheer.
“Aye, aye, a happy day indeed. The first of my wee bairns to leave me. And the two of ye will be next. Make no mistake. I ken it might not seem fair now, what with little Cat being the youngest. But I promise ye both that I’ll make fine matches for ye before long. Just ye both wait and see. Fine, fine matches.” He laughed and clapped his hands together. “Come now. We mustn’t keep the minister waiting.”
Laird Drummond swept from the room in high spirits and did not see the looks of confusion and fear that passed between his three daughters behind his back.
Catriona watched the retreating figure of her father and blinked back a fresh torrent of tears. How casually her father dismissed his betrayal of his youngest daughter. After unclenching her hands, Catriona gazed down at the red crescent moons embedded in her palms, left there from the sharp edges of her fingernails.
“Come along, Cat,” Aileen whispered, clasping one of Catriona’s sore hands in her own. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. Father will not stop this wedding, so you had best not keep Laird MacDonell waiting.”
Catriona wanted to tell Aileen that The MacDonell could wait for her in hell for all she cared, but she was not as bold as her sister Brigid. So instead, she nodded her head sharply and took her first step towards an unknown future.
* * *
Liam paced back and forth in the small kirk while he waited for the arrival of his bride. Bride. He cringed at the word, and cursed the entire farce of a wedding.
“Are ye going to just stand there and do nothing, or are ye going to help me find a way to get out of this?” he snapped at Iain.
The priest looked over at the sound of Liam’s raised voice and gave him a disapproving glare. Liam ignored the priest and continued pacing. The sound of his boots on the stone floor echoed around the room as he stormed back and forth, his hands clenched in tight fists at his side.
Iain crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against one of the front pews.
“I dinna ken what ye expect me to do brathair. Laird Drummond accused ye of shaming his daughter in front of God the Almighty and a hallway full of witnesses. And ye said yourself that ye were standing there in naught but yer shirt. What was the man to think?”
“Have ye not listened to a word I’ve said? He did not discover me with his daughter. I am telling ye Iain, the whole thing was a plot. Can ye not see that this is all too convenient? Last night I turned down his offer of marriage, and today I’m to wed his youngest. Ye cannot be so naïve as to think this is merely coincidence. It is obviously some scheme that he and his angelic-faced viper of a daughter concocted in order to entrap me.”
“Do ye really think that he and the lass came up with something as elaborate as all of that, just to get ye to the altar? Laird Drummond is one of the wealthiest Chiefs in the area. Why would he be so desperate to have his lass be wed to ye? I’m sorry, Liam, but I see no treachery here. Just a bit of bad luck.”
“‘A bit of bad luck?’” Liam’s face was thunderous, and he gave serious consideration to throttling his brother right there in the house of God. “Ye think ’tis just a bit of bad luck that I am going to be trapped in a second loveless marriage to a scheming liar? No matter how angelic of face, the lass has proven herself to be an opportunistic little wretch. And I’ll be damned if you or they or anyone in this blasted village think that I’m going to marry her today or ever. I’d rather die, Iain, than be forced to marry another woman like that.”
Iain’s expression softened and he placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “The lass is not Fiona, Liam. Ye cannot damn her without knowing the truth of it.”
“The simple fact that I find myself in this position is all the proof I need. And to think I wanted to protect her from her mystery assailant.” He snorted mirthlessly and jabbed a finger in his brother’s direction. “She must think me a fool to have conned me so easily! But they cannot force me to go through with it. I will not go through with it!” he shouted. Anger and regret swirled within him, and he fought back a wave of nausea. “I cannot get married again, Iain,” Liam whispered.
“And if ye’re wrong? Would ye leave the lass shamed then, Liam? Her reputation is destroyed whether ye meant to do it or not. Her name will always be tied to yours. And if ye run and abandon her now, ye’ll lose the respect of yer clan. Ye must do this Liam. I’m sorry, but ye must.”
The doors to the kirk opened, and the guests streamed in to fill the pews. It had only been half a day, but news traveled fast when Laird Drummond set about securing a kirk and a priest to wed his youngest daughter. Those that had heard news of the scandal were eager to see it play out to the end.
Liam’s own men were among the crowd, each one looking distinctly uncomfortable. What would they think of their Chief if he were to simply walk out of those doors and not return? How would he explain to them the truth of what happened, and expose Laird Drummond and his daughter for the liars that they were? No, it was a fine dream, but not one that would ever come to pass.
Damn him, Iain was right. There was no help for it, he would have to marry the Drummond girl. The cost of walking out those doors was too great. And even if he did try to leave, there was a likely chance that Drummond would simply order his men to cut Liam down where he stood.
Once everyone was seated, Laird Drummond’s two elder daughters entered. They both wore matching expressions of distrust on their faces as they looked upon Liam before taking their seats in one of the front pews.
Liam wiped his damp palms across his plaid. There was no escaping it now. He was surrounded with no place to run, and even if he could escape, he could not spend the rest of his life knowing that his people believed he had ruined a young innocent lass.
The doors opened for a second time, and Liam swallowed the lump in his throat when Laird Drummond entered with Catriona on his arm. The lass was a vision. The long pale blonde strands of her hair had been plaited and pinned up around her head in an elaborate way, but a few tendrils had been left loose to frame her soft face. He had thought that her eyes had been wide last night due to her fear, but today he saw that they were truly as big as Loch Eil, and a clear crystal blue, deep enough to drown in.
She was a true beauty, and now he remembered the way his body had reacted to her the night before. He searched her face for something, anything that would convince him that he was wrong about her. He wanted to believe Iain when he said that she was most likely innocent of any scheme. He searched for any sign that would give him a glimmer of hope to ease the tempest of rage and suspicion swirling within him, but there was none. As she walked down the aisle toward him, there was nothing of the sweet, innocent lass from the night before. No determination and strength in her eyes. Her face betrayed no emotion at all, and her blue eyes were cold, hard and empty. Just as Fiona’s had been.
Liam clenched his jaw and silently cursed both her and her father as she took her place beside him and prepared to say the words that would forever bind them in the eyes of God and man.
Chapter 5
Catriona sat, maudlin, at the head table and tried in vain to ignore the mob of guests that filled the great hall. It looked as though the entire village had come to wish her and her new husband well in their blessed union. So many had come to celebrate her joyous day—or revel in the scandal of her great shame. However one chose to look at it. It was amazing that so many people had been able to make their way to the castle for her wedding dinner with less than a single day's notice. Who would have thoug
ht that news of her humiliating situation would have proven to be such a great motivator? Though she would have preferred not to think of it at all, which was why she was already on her fifth glass of wine and the sun had yet to set. She had never had much of a taste for drink. She had also never felt such a powerful desire to let her senses slip from her grasp, to turn her back on the harsh reality that was her life.
Apart from her wedding vows she had not said two words to her new husband. She hadn’t dared. Every time she glanced his way she saw naught but fury in his eyes. His obvious disgust and hatred of her cut her to the marrow. He had seemed kind the night before, even gentle once he had gotten over his initial surprise at her unexpected arrival, but any concern he may have had for her had obviously died the moment her father had forced this marriage on them. And could she blame him for that?
She had thought to explain to him, once the ceremony was over, that she was sorry for the part she had played in the outcome. Tell him that she had pleaded with her father, but that her da would not listen. And maybe then, maybe the two of them would be able to come to some kind of an accord.
But she had taken one look at the expression on Laird MacDonell’s face when she had entered the kirk, and she knew that it mattered not what she had to say. He wanted naught to do with the marriage nor with her.
So she sat next to her new husband at the head table while their guests laughed and danced, and waved one of the serving maids over to refill her cup once more.
Her empty stomach rolled in protest, but she ignored the full plate of food that she had pushed away at the start of the night. The few small bites she had attempted to eat had tasted like ashes in her mouth.
Taking a long swallow of her wine, she closed her eyes as her head began to swim. With any luck she would be too drunk to remember her wedding night. Catriona shuddered at the thought. She did not think she could bear the man’s touch. The thought of those hard eyes, so full of hatred, boring into her as she was forced to do her wifely duty in consummating the marriage made her want to run screaming from the hall.
She hastily took another sip of wine and set the cup down unsteadily on the table, causing some of the crimson liquid to spill out over her hand.
Next to her, Laird MacDonell stood up abruptly.
“I believe it is time we retired to bed, my lady,” he snapped, extending her his hand.
Catriona’s heart picked up its pace and the room spun. She was not ready! She reached again for her cup of wine, but her new husband took her by the arm and stopped her.
“I believe ye’ve had enough wine for the evening,” he said as he pulled her out of the chair.
“I most certainly have not.”
It was not until she glanced up and saw the dark look on his face that she knew she must have accidentally spoken out loud.
Her face burned, and she looked away from his disapproving gaze.
She squared her shoulders and allowed him to lead her from the wedding feast. When the guests noticed that they were leaving, a riotous cheer went up to send them on their way, and Catriona cringed at the sound.
As they crossed from the keep over to the mansion, Catriona felt as though she were being led to her own execution. Her feet felt weighted down with lead, and the air around her closed in on her, pressing against her so she felt as though she were forcing her way through a thick bog. When they reached the top of the stairs and were nearing the bedchamber in which The MacDonell was staying, Catriona’s nerve failed, and her legs went weak, folding beneath her.
Suddenly she was dragged off her feet and gasped as Laird MacDonell hauled her up into his arms without saying a word.
When he turned right, away from his bedchamber door, Catriona looked up at him in confusion.
“Are we not…?” she trailed off, unsure of how to ask the question.
“Where is yer bedchamber?” he asked without looking down at her.
He carried her as though she weighed nothing. Her heart pounded as she wrapped her arms more securely around his neck. She was still afraid, but behind that fear, deep down, she felt an unbidden kernel of excitement.
Catriona felt strangely safe pressed up against the man’s broad hard chest. The memory of it naked in the moonlight the night before rose in her mind, and her body flushed hot.
“'Tis another floor up still,” she murmured. “Thank ye for helping me, but I can walk now.”
Even as Catriona said the words, a part of her did not want him to set her back down.
He merely shook his head and continued on in silence.
She glanced up at him as subtly as she could, admiring the hard line of his jaw and wondered what he would look like if he ever smiled. She had been so afraid every time she was with him for one reason or the other, that she had never truly noticed how handsome a man he was.
His dark blonde hair curled lightly around his ears, and she suddenly found herself with the inexplicable urge to touch it. It was darker than her own pale locks, but had a hint of gold to it, almost like hay when the sun hits the fields just so. The wine coursing through her system had finally begun to make her feel at ease, and she allowed herself to relax into him.
Catriona tightened her arms around his neck and let out a wistful sigh. Maybe if they had met under different circumstances, or had been allowed the time to get to know one another, he would not have hated her so much, and she would be headed to her marriage bed with her heart full of excitement and joy instead of fear. Not every woman was lucky enough to have a husband so handsome.
Unfortunately beauty did not make up for a lack of love or trust.
“It is this one here,” she told him when they reached her chamber at last.
He opened the door and walked through it towards the bed, where he set her back down on her feet.
A large lump grew in Catriona’s throat, making it hard for her to swallow. It was time.
“We leave in the morning,” he said brusquely. “Good night, my lady.”
Catriona watched open mouthed as Laird MacDonell turned his back on her and walked out of her bedchamber, closing the door behind him.
“But… what?” She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and stared at the bedchamber door, unsure of what had just happened.
* * *
Liam’s footsteps echoed down the empty hallway as he stormed away from Catriona’s bedchamber. While in the great hall, surrounded by revelers, he had wished for nothing more than a single moment of peace and silence. But now that he had it, all he could think to wish for was a distraction. He needed something, anything, that would keep his mind from thinking about the way Catriona had just felt in his arms.
He did not want to think about the way her soft body had molded so perfectly against his, or the way it had made him feel when she had tightened her arms around his neck and rested her head again his chest. It had made him want to keep her close and protect her from harm, and aye, he had felt his lust stir as he gazed down on that sweet, heart-shaped face of hers. He wanted to know what it would feel like to gather that mass of silken pale blonde hair in his hands and let it slip through his fingertips, one smooth, shining lock at a time.
Liam scowled and shook his head in an attempt to clear the images from his mind.
No. It would take more than her sweet face and tempting curves to make him forget that the only reason he was carrying her in the first place was because of her clever deceit. No matter how tempting she was, he would not touch her until he knew for certain whether or not she had plotted with her father to trap him. Never again would he lay with a viper.
“Wandering the hallways on yer wedding night?”
His brother’s voice snapped him to attention. Iain was leaning against the wall next to the door of Liam’s chamber with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two cups in the other.
“How did ye know I’d be here?”
“I know ye Liam, and I ken there was no way ye’d be bedding that lass tonight. I doubt ye’d want to give Laird Drum
mond the satisfaction. Or yourself.” Iain winked and lifted the bottle in his hand. “As it turns out, Laird Drummond has quite the fine collection of spirits. I did not think he would mind if I helped myself to a bottle. It is a wedding, after all.”
The keep was still full of wedding guests, and many of them had spilled out into the large courtyard, but Liam and Iain were able to slip past them unseen.
They walked past the stables and made their way around the manor house to the back. Behind the castle the land sloped downward in a green hill before ending in rough terrain.
“One of the serving maids said that Drummond plans to extend all of this into more elaborate gardens. What we see here is just the start. Everyone expects them to be the finest in all the highlands. She said he will be sparing no expense,” Iain said.
“Is that supposed to impress me?” he asked. “That the man is willing to spend a fortune on a few posies?”
“No, but it’s a nice thought. Of all the things the man could spend his money on, he chose to plant a garden.”
“Ye have a poet’s heart Iain. But I doubt very much that Laird Drummond wants to plant the most lavish garden in Scotland for any reason other than to be another display of his wealth and power.”
“Must ye always be so cynical Liam?”
Liam looked back out over the vast expanse of green and gave a weary sigh.
“I dinna mean to be. Sometimes I wish that I was more like ye, do ye know that? But being Laird, it can weigh heavy on my heart whether I want it to or no’. And now with these new troubles…”
“Now that ye’ve wed his daughter, do ye think that ye can trust him to back ye with men if need be?”
“No matter what has happened here today, I have always heard that Drummond is a man of his word. I think that if the reaving is just the beginning and it turns out to be something more serious, we will be able to count on him to hold true.”
Highland Promise: The Daughters of Clan Drummond Page 4