News was bound to spread fast of her uncle’s wishes. Everyone would expect a feast to celebrate Aileana’s new engagement after the funeral, but no doubt there’d be surprise and shock over the identity of the groom. Rumours grew over the years that many opportunistic mothers and fathers alike had set their sights on him for their daughters, but he had declined them all. Some even speculated his dutiful younger brother might have to provide a MacIntosh heir. Her uncle’s legacy would prove them wrong.
Aileana sighed and turned onto her back, staring up at the crimson velvet encasing her canopy.
Too often these days, funerals and weddings followed one another. New alliances were forged in this way and without the consent of the unfortunate couple in question. Too often she sympathized with the sacrificial bride. Now it was her turn.
For the first time in her life, her future was unclear. What could she expect from this man and why hadn’t her uncle spoken of the arrangement? Sure she wouldn’t be of age for another month, but could this have been his idea of a birthday surprise? If that were the case, he had succeeded in surprising her, but she found no pleasure in it. And why were Father Addison and Andrews sworn to such secrecy on the matter? It made no sense at all. There was a piece to this mystery she couldn’t see and both men had made themselves scarce today so she couldn’t find an opportunity to challenge them. Of course, two visits from the MacIntosh and Gawain’s return had prevented her from seeking anyone to question either.
And what about her father? All her life she was led to believe the king was responsible for her father’s death and now she had to marry one of the monarch’s biggest supporters. Something must have happened to change her uncle’s mind in favour of James MacIntosh, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that could be.
She understood the restrictions preventing him from passing on his estate to her. The only way to secure her future at Chattan Castle was through marriage, yet he had treated her like the son who would have inherited it all. He taught her the business of the estate and how to account for and manage everything right down to the last blade of grass. To her knowledge, Gawain had received the same training. Wasn’t that preparation so they could run the estate together? Why else would he have exposed Gawain to the essentials of management if he were not expected to use those skills?
Aileana turned onto her other side and the quilts tangled around her feet. She kicked them into submission and tried lying on her stomach.
She always enjoyed an enormous amount of freedom with her uncle and assumed she would have had much the same with Gawain. Would she have any now? How her uncle had concluded she would be better off partnered with a man who went through women like a hungry sheep in new spring pasture, she could not guess. A man like that wouldn’t consider his wife’s needs and feelings.
Aileana turned over again and fluffed the pillow before tossing her head upon it.
How could her uncle do this to her? How could he do this to Gawain? And why hadn’t he shared this decision with her at any point after he’d finalized it? The arrangement had been in place long enough.
Maybe he cared less for her opinion than she always thought. That notion brought a strange, uncomfortable feeling to the pit of her stomach.
Poor Gawain. Where was he tonight? Where had he been since her uncle’s death for that matter? It must have been a crushing blow to learn he wouldn’t inherit the estate. It wasn’t fair to either of them to find out like this, and she couldn’t bear for him to think ill of her.
And how was she supposed to shelve years of dislike towards a womanizing Stewart supporter just because a secret letter told her she must? The notion was more than unreasonable. Beyond that, it was unfair, unrealistic, and impossible!
James MacIntosh. Her first impression of him was that of a rogue, yet in her uncle’s solar he was considerate when he offered to assist with the situation regarding Gawain. His second visit was confounding. He’d come and gone so quickly she could see no purpose in it.
If she were honest with herself, she’d admit it wasn’t his thoughtfulness or his strange behaviour that had her reeling—it was him—all of him! From his thick hair, to his unusual green eyes, and the sensual curl of his lips that never seemed to go away, James MacIntosh was the most attractive man she had ever seen. How could she have missed that before?
* * *
James emptied the last few drops of ale from the pitcher. He contemplated the situation and his conclusion one more time. In three days he would betroth himself to a woman to whom he was attracted, but whose connection could provide him with no political advance.
Three days.
He must go through with it, regardless of how difficult it might be to break it afterward. Once done, there would be only one ugly way out of it.
Chapter Five
“Will one of you please, once and for all, tell me what prompted my uncle to pair me with the likes of James MacIntosh? And if either of you ‘there, there’ me one more time I will put you in the stocks myself!” She never would, but her patience thinned with each passing moment. Her two most trusted advisors danced around her questions, treating her as though she were ten again. Enough was enough.
“M’lady—”
“No! No more ‘m’lady’! I want a straight answer from you, Andrews. And I want it now!”
The priest and the steward exchanged an unsure glance, prompting her to place her hands on her hips. Father Addison deflated and collapsed onto the bench with his head in his hands.
“We thought we could protect you from the truth. Believe me when I say, your uncle did not make this decision lightly or without counsel. He was troubled during the time leading up to his visit with the elder MacIntosh and as I recall, it took two attempts to convince the man to accept the arrangement.” Father Addison paused.
“Go on.”
“He wasn’t trying to hurt you, lass,” Andrews said. “As to his reasons, well they died with him.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You must my La—. You must.” He glanced and Father Addison.
She turned to the priest again. “What truth were you protecting me from? What could be so important to destroy my life and Gawain’s?”
Andrews’ harrumph was the last straw. “What John? What is it about Gawain that makes you so cynical? I trust you would never voice any objection about the man in front of my uncle? So why do me the discourtesy?”
Father Addison reached for her but she swatted him away. “I do not need consoling like a fragile child. I need answers. You hold information which may have led to a complete change of heart from my uncle concerning my future.”
How could they not realize she should have been told?
“What was the cause? Which of the three people involved did it concern most? The MacIntosh, a Stewart supporter? No? Maybe it was about Gawain, a man who served my uncle with faithful dedication. No?” Her voice cracked. “Then it must have something to do with me.”
“Lady Aileana,” Father Addison said. “Your uncle had no issue with your ability or loyalty. I understand your concern over MacIntosh involvement here. They are Stewart supporters. Your uncle was certain of it. I remember the night the Guard came to collect your father. Despite assurances he would be compensated, the Laird and he both knew ’twas unlikely. He went anyway, Aileana. He went because his king bade him. Why MacIntosh, or any other clan, would support James Stewart is beyond me, but your uncle thought long and hard about this decision before he made it. You must trust that.”
His tone and his demeanour were sincere, but they were asking her to leap too far. “Trust in that? Well, Father, trust is a wonderful thing when it is expressed both ways. I’m to accept this decision without any rhyme or reason as to how it came about. For all I know, my uncle was blackmailed into this arrangement somehow by the same man who will soon be my husband!”
“That would be true if he needed anything we possess.”
; Damn Andrews and his logic.
“What then? He is doing us a favour to save us from crushing when the great King James sweeps the Highlands clear of non-supporters?” She waited for either of them to react. Nothing. “No. If it were something like that we, all four of us, would have spoken of it months ago. There’s another reason. What is it?”
“Is it not enough for you to know your uncle agonized over this decision?” Andrews asked. His brows furrowed and he shifted.
“No. And your refusal to share information with me is an even greater indicator that there’s a secret to uncover, and I will uncover it, Andrews.” She pointed her index finger at his chest. “And I will also remember that you’re still more loyal to a man in his grave than the heir he left behind.” She stormed out of the great hall.
Never in her short life had she ever been so sure she was being lied to. There was something serious at play here and she could not let it go. Her uncle’s secrecy, and his supposed agonizing, proof enough. By default, their lie would become hers. She would not let them forget it.
One thing was clear. Her sentiments regarding the MacIntosh were not shared among the masses. The men considered him honourable, convinced he’d continue the estate’s success well into the next several generations. They would swear fealty to him as liege lord, believing the merger of the two clans would bring wealth, prosperity, and protection. A larger estate was not an ideal target for roaming clans who raided more and more these days.
They were all wrong. The clan could achieve all those things without James MacIntosh at the helm.
She had a great deal of love and respect for the people who worked and lived at Chattan Castle, but she could not concur with the excitement around her at the impending arrival of their future chief. The women were another irritating lot and admired the physical side of him. Gushed, more like. Everywhere she turned, the maids whispered about his body, his face and his gorgeous eyes. She had just about had enough when one of the kitchen staff mentioned his firm buttocks. Her reaction was swift and direct—she roared her disapproval and forbade anyone to discuss such an inappropriate topic. Even if there was at least a shred of truth to the last part.
Desperate for distraction, she immersed herself in celebration preparations by ensuring her guests had the utmost in comfort and hospitality when they arrived. She oversaw meal planning, flower arrangements, garlands hangings, fresh linens for the guest bedrooms, and table settings. Everything must be perfect. She fell heavy into her bed on the night before her betrothal ceremony in eager anticipation of a solid night sleep.
Gwen rapped on her chamber door early the next morning. The night, like the one before, was filled with tormenting dreams of her intended. In some, he locked her into a small, windowless room, his maniacal laughter filling her ears. In others, he loomed over her for a moment before bending toward her naked body. His smouldering kisses left a trail of molten heat in their wake. Her difficulty was determining which was more disturbing.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. Today is the day your dreams come true. My lady? My lady?”
Aileana’s head was buried under three pillows and her quilts were all askew.
“Go away,” she muttered.
“Did you not sleep well? Dreaming about a certain gentleman who will be here in a few short hours perhaps?”
Aileana erupted from the pillows.
“Aye I did, thanks to you! I hadn’t given the MacIntosh’s looks a second thought until you the put idea in my head.”
Gwen paled and dropped her gaze to her feet. “I’m sorry if I’m to blame for your sleepless night, my lady and when you’re expecting guests. It was thoughtless of me and I apologize. I understand if you wish someone else to attend you this morning.”
Was Gwen teasing again? She often enjoyed the maid’s playful nature, but there was no humour in it today. Still, it wasn’t her fault Aileana’s world had turned on its ear.
“Shall I call for Colleen?” Gwen asked.
Aileana sighed.
“My dearest Gwen, ’tis I who should apologize to you. I don’t know what has put me in such a foul mood this morning. Yet, as you say, we have guests arriving soon and we shall not allow them to witness any tirades on my part, shall we? I wish you alone to attend me as usual.” Acting like a spoiled child would not make her day go any easier. She must face this head on. “I’ve decided to wear the crimson gown today. What do you think?”
Gwen let out a huge breath and smiled. “I think it’s perfect.”
Perhaps focusing on her attire would still her fluttering belly. Her gown had just arrived from Edinburgh. It was made of crimson velvet with gold thread and ribbon woven in a knotted design framing the edges. Gwen insisted its square neckline enhanced Aileana’s figure. Long, draping sleeves hung almost to the floor revealing her full-sleeved silk chemise angled at her wrists. Similar ribbons were weaved into her plaited hair.
Just before the eleventh hour, Gwen clasped her hands together and declared, “Oh, you are perfect! Do you not feel the power of rebirth today? Of all the days you could have chosen, Beltane is the most appropriate. And do you see? ’Tis raining this morn: a true sign of fertility and good luck.”
Aileana scrunched her nose. “Gwen you know I don’t believe in the old ways.”
“I also know you don’t look down upon those of us who still do. When the Beltane fires are lit tonight, what will your betrothed think? I’ve heard he supports the Bishop’s opinion on heresy and that we’re being labelled witches.”
Though she kept her tone light, Gwen’s worry shone through her eyes. Their usual twinkle dimmed.
“Nonsense. Our Bishop has no such opinion. That’s a load of fear mongering spread about to pressure more people to attend mass. If I thought for a second you, or anyone else here, were in actual danger from James MacIntosh or any of his ilk, I’d never let him over the bridge.”
Gwen laughed. “And what about you? Are you in any danger?”
Aileana’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? Of course not. I will have as little to do with that man as possible. And speaking of which, I’ve learned Father Addison and Andrews both knew about this arrangement from its birth. Tell me Gwen, and tell me true, did you know anything about any of this?”
Silence followed for far too many heartbeats. Gwen’s brow furrowed. Aileana couldn’t bear it if her most trusted friend had also kept such a huge and important piece of information from her.
“My lady, I understand how shocked you must be to learn trusted others knew of the arrangement, but let me assure you, I was not a member of that secret coven. My concern is only for your happiness and that does not involve keeping secrets from you.”
“Yet, you dislike Gawain.”
“My lady, you have reminded me on several occasions to be respectful towards him. I shall do so by remaining silent on that subject.”
“So you didn’t know about the arrangement but your dislike of Gawain holds true.”
Silence.
“You don’t have to berate the man to tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Very well, my lady. I do not think he is worthy. You deserve someone who will cherish you. I do not believe him capable of that.”
“Knowing you as I do, I can accept that. Thank you, Gwen, for your honesty and your counsel. You are more dear to me than ever.” It was true. Who else could she trust? Gwen would probably not find anyone worthy and it was nice to have someone so devoted to her happiness.
“Lady Aileana, your words make my heart swell. I have a gift for you.” She lifted a wreath of colourful dried flowers onto Aileana’s head, “Roses for love, carnations for health, lavender for luck, and daisies for innocence. Beltane flowers given from the heart, and blessed with love and this witch’s art.”
Aileana placed her hand over her heart. The gift and the declaration filled her with peace. “My deepest gratitude.” Her words were but a whisper.
Gwen’s watery smile was no doubt a mirror of Aileana’s own. Such a se
ntiment was a reminder of the kind of love which had always surrounded her. What would her future hold?
“It’s time, m’lady.” Andrew’s voice followed a soft rapping at the door.
The room spun around her for a moment. Aileana swayed until Gwen helped her into a chair. She was about to make a permanent commitment to James MacIntosh. Was there no way out of this?
“My lady, are you unwell?” Gwen asked. “I can see that you are not. We shall get you through this with great haste.” Gwen gaze darted around the room. “Flowers! You need to think of flowers. Try this, start with ‘A’ and think about all the flowers beginning with that letter. When you’re done with ‘A’, do the same for ‘B’ and so forth.”
Aileana was quiet for a moment or two before nodding. If it took something like listing flowers to calm her frayed nerves, so be it. A second ago she was fine, now she was stupefied. What Gwen suggested took determined concentration, but after a few minutes her shoulders relaxed a little.
She took a deep steadying breath and glanced at Gwen. “I can do this.”
“Yes you can. You’ve endured much over the past few days. It’s natural for you to feel nervous about receiving guests without your uncle. This is the first time you will have to do it alone.”
Her words were the truth. The funeral itself had been open to clansmen alone and other visitors were never in the form of a large crowd. This was the first time she would appear on her own so it was no wonder she struggled with composure. Gwen was right, it had everything to do with all her guests and not just one man.
She straightened her back and approached her bedchamber door.
“Wait! You can’t go without your necklace,” Gwen said.
Bound to the Highlander (The Highland Chiefs Series) Page 5