The Chieftain's Choice (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 1)

by Elaine Manders

  He’d become accustomed to the more formal, sedate celebrations of London and Paris, and truth be told, he’d lost some of his Scottish pride. Tonight’s ritual was an ordeal to him. He didn’t drink, wasn’t inclined to dance, and nerves prevented much food. Aside from that, he’d had to endure the jesting of the men as they recounted their own wedding night with drunken abandon.

  At last he entered the castle by a side door. Finding no one about save a snoring footman, he searched for the stairs in the darkened house.

  Nerves tightened with each step to the landing. Sir Angus had told him where Alana’s chambers were situated, and he counted the doors to the one with a needlepoint sampler of the Lord’s Prayer nailed to it.

  He grasped the doorknob with one hand and rubbed the stubble of his chin with the other. A new bride deserved better than to have her tender skin assaulted by a grimy, unshaven husband.

  A lone candle stood on a table in her boudoir. The light flickered as he closed the door, setting the shadows to dancing on the walls. Through the open doorway to Alana’s bedroom, he caught sight of her lying on the bed.

  The reality of their marriage set his heart racing.

  He lifted the taper and, swallowing the emotion caught in his throat, slowly made his way to her bed. She lay on her side, curled up with her hair spilled out over the pillow. Raising the candle higher, he drank in her beauty. Her hair glinted with red lights, and a wayward tendril tempted him to brush it from her cheek.

  With the lightest touch he could muster he caressed her hair’s silkiness as a strange tenderness swept through him.

  This was his wife. For the first time he saw her as a living, breathing woman, not just a means to please his father or to escape Vanora’s schemes. He was responsible for Alana’s happiness. Only hours before, he’d spoken holy vows to love and cherish her as much as his own flesh.

  The air was cool, but heat rushed up his neck, and sweat beaded his upper lip. He had the right to share her bed. The clan expected it.

  He’d experienced desire for a woman before, but nothing as intense as this. Another emotion surfaced.

  Love? How could love come so swiftly? Yet at the moment a power stronger than desire took over. With a grueling journey facing them in the morning, the best thing for her was a good night’s sleep.

  He wouldn’t jolt her out of a sound sleep to demand a husband’s rights. Far better that they begin their marriage at Stonecrest. They would be rested and comfortable with one another. He’d carry her into his own bedroom.

  How should it be prepared for her? A woman would surely want flowers, and unless he missed his guess, Alana would prefer wildflowers—bluebells, heather, and flowering furnitory.

  He’d have Malcolm, the piper, positioned outside the window to play slowly, softly. They’d have a festive meal in the flower bedecked room. The bed curtains would be hung, opened to reveal rich coverings and pillows piled high.

  Gavin had spent the last winter in Rome, and he was satisfied the Italians would woo their women with flowers and soft music. The clan’s crude customs weren’t for a woman of Alana’s sensitivity. Even in the short time he’d known her, he found her to be unusually meek.

  She’d suffered over the years because of her father’s reputation, not given the respect she deserved, but the Carmichael clan would respect her, or they’d answer to him.

  Now that his eyes were adjusted to the dim surrounding, he could tell there was no adjoining room. He wouldn’t seek another bed and raise speculation that he and Alana hadn’t done their duty. Retracing his steps to the boudoir, he found no place to sleep other than the floor or the chaise lounge.

  In spite of being far too short for his long legs, the chaise would have to do. Besides, pillows rested in each corner and a coverlet hung off the back. He reclined on the chaise, wedging both pillows under his head and furling the coverlet over him. In this cramped position, he expected sleep to be long in coming, but he’d barely closed his eyes than the fatigue of the day rendered him unconscious.

  ***

  Red and gold streaks of dawn crested the horizon as they pulled away from McWayre Castle.

  Gavin sat in stoic silence, oblivious to the jostling of the carriage over the rocky road that led to Stonecrest. Troubled thoughts tumbled in his mind while the miles passed by, taking him closer to the moment of truth.

  He’d made up his mind to confide in Alana on the journey. It was only right that she know what they faced.

  In the light of day, last night’s events were a blur. Perhaps he should have awakened Alana when he came to her bed. Letting her sleep seemed the only kind thing to do at the time, but she might have taken it as a snub.

  Something bothered her this morning. Indeed, she’d refused to look at him at breakfast, and her terse responses to his questions left him to believe she found her husband wanting.

  He’d try to explain his feelings of the previous night if he truly understood what he felt. The miles slipped by as he grappled with his thoughts. He knew enough about women to realize he’d have to tread carefully with his new bride.

  If only she were more talkative, but she seemed as given to brooding as he was, staring out the carriage window with worry lines etching her brow.

  When she finally spoke, she startled him. “She’ll seek revenge.”

  So that’s what had her worried. And he’d been concerned that he’d hurt her by not coming to her on their wedding night. “Alana, I believe you give Vanora more credit than she’s worth. She is, as she’s always been, a spoiled brat. Aye, she’s angry that I married you instead of her, but she’ll have to accept the situation. She can do nothing about it now.”

  “That mayhap be true if she were like any other spurned woman, but she isna like other women. She’s shrewd and malicious.”

  He smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I wasn’t aware you were so well acquainted with Vanora’s demeanor.”

  “Aunt Elspeth and Vanora came to visit Grandfather once a year, but that’s not when I learned how devious she was.”

  Though he wanted to move on to more pleasant topics, he was now curious. “When?”

  “Three years ago—when you and Rory were gone—Aunt Elspeth invited me to take studies with Vanora. Aunt Elspeth had brought in a renowned tutor. Most of his teachings were beyond my comprehension, but I didn’t miss that Vanora absorbed everything. He taught her political strategies and court intrigue. She was certain she could aspire to become a great leader, even a queen.”

  He laughed. “I wonder why she wanted to marry me. I couldn’t put her on the throne.”

  “You would only have been a stepping stone, a man to be used to further her goal.”

  Again his laughter rang out. “That’s absurd.”

  “I laughed at first. Then she insisted I come with her to visit the crofts.” Alana lifted her hands with a shrug, a helpless gesture. “I doona ken how to explain, but she would tell one crofter his neighbor was cheating him or some other such warning as she called it. Then she would go to the neighbor and warn him about what the other planned. When the two would confront and threaten each other, she would rush to them, begging them to settle their differences in a way to benefit the clan as her father had done.”

  He knew Vanora kept trouble brewing much as a witch stirring a cauldron. “And the way to benefit the clan always benefited her.”

  Alana sent her gaze back out the window. “What I canna understand is why those people were deceived. All I can think is that she’s the great Robert Gilmour’s daughter, and they doona believe she could lie to them. I asked Aunt Elspeth at the time, but she gave the matter no credence. That was before Vanora turned against her.”

  Her words echoed Gavin’s own conclusions, then concern for her safety shoved its way into his consciousness. “I don’t want you going out among the clans with Vanora. I’ll introduce you in time.”

  She shifted her head, giving him a searching glance. “Do they admire you?”

 
The question jolted him upright. That was the crux of the problem. They didn’t admire him or even trust him. Trade alliances would improve their lot, but they were met with suspicion. Bringing in new breeds of sheep and cattle were viewed as heresy. “They fear the neighboring clans will take advantage when my father dies. “As of yet, they don’t trust me to manage.”

  “I shouldna married you.”

  She caught him off guard.

  He took her hand and waited until she met his gaze. “Why would you say that? Though ours is an arranged marriage, we’ll deal well with one another. You’re the only woman I wanted to marry.”

  “I thought you only married me because Rory cried off. Why did Rory leave?

  So that was her problem. She was hurt by Rory’s rejection. “Rory’s always been a rogue, Alana. He simply didn’t want to marry. It had nothing to do with you personally. He didn’t want to marry any woman, but he didn’t have the nerve to refuse our father, so he ran off.”

  She pulled her hand from his and turned back to the window. He took the opportunity to savor her lovely profile, the long dark lashes fringing her eyes, the tilt of her nose, the curve of her lips, the creamy column of her neck. He longed to taste those lips and that neck as soon as they were alone.

  They might have to wait until they arrived at Stonecrest to consummate their marriage, but in the meantime, there was nothing wrong with a husband kissing his wife. He was on the verge of stealing a kiss when her words stopped him.

  “Your reasons sound logical enough, but I canna help believe you’re holding something from me. Those large, sultry, dark blue eyes accused him. “The crofters call me fey, you ken, and I do seem to have a keen perception of what people are thinking.”

  Here was the opening he’d been waiting for to tell her the truth. Even if he managed to keep Vanora from her, she was bound to hear the gossip from others. Still he hesitated. “So you can read my thoughts.” He laughed. “I’ll have to watch myself around you.”

  “Why? Surely married couples shouldna wish to have secrets.”

  Her logic cornered him. With no way out, he took a deep breath and stretched his legs as far as possible within the confines of the carriage. “No, you’re quite right. I have withheld one bit of information regarding Rory’s sudden departure, but only because I wanted to spare you any misunderstandings before our wedding.”

  “Are they truly misunderstandings?”

  He shifted in his seat. “The thing was so vicious, I didn’t want to see you hurt.” He averted his gaze, unwilling to watch her reaction. “It seems your cousin, Vanora, told Rory your parentage was a lie—that you were born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

  “Vanora mentioned some woman disputes Hester was my mother, but none doubts Torquil was my father.”

  “Aye, more like Vanora disputes Hester was your mother.”

  She moved to the edge of her seat and laid a hand on his knee, compelling him to look at her. Raw emotion showed in her eyes, and her lips quivered as she spoke. “My mother was…she was a saint. Just ask any of the McWayre. Ask your own people.” She closed her eyes.

  She still didn’t understand what he was saying. He covered her hand with his. “I need no convincing, lass. There’s no doubt the Carmichael honor Hester McWayre’s memory, but according to Vanora, Hester wasn’t your mother.”

  A dusky rose tinged her cheeks. She never looked lovelier. He wished this unpleasant conversation would end so he could tell her so.

  “That’s why Vanora came last night.”

  He stiffened. The shock of her words pierced him like a white-hot spear. Pressing toward her until their knees touched, he took both her hands. “Vanora came to you last night?”

  “She did, saying the former maid of my mother’s had secrets that would cause an uprising of the Carmichael clan if we…if I bore a child. That I had tainted blood.”

  “You should have sent for me. I want her to have nothing to do with you.”

  “She was gone quickly. Rory believed her, dinna he, believed that I’m the product of a scullery maid’s sin? How many others believe it?”

  “Nay, not a scullery maid.” Gavin clenched his jaw. He hated to see her hurt further. “She told him you were Torquil and Miriam Tyndale’s daughter. You’ve heard of the woman?”

  All the color drained from Alana’s cheeks, and she fell back against the squabs. “I’ve heard of her, of course. She was Torquil’s mistress. She killed my…my mother.”

  “Miriam was the instigator of the massacre at Stonecrest, though what she did has nothing to do with you. Vanora concocted the story about Miriam being your mother.”

  “No wonder Rory cried off,” she whispered. “Why dinna you believe Vanora’s story?”

  “Because I know Vanora better than Rory did.”

  “Doubtless you do.” He noticed the icy contempt in her voice, and had the impression Alana was somehow blaming him for the whole thing.

  “It was my father’s dying wish that one of his sons wed Hester’s daughter. I wasn’t about to allow Vanora to rob him of that wish.”

  “Lord Carmichael doesna believe the lie about my birth?”

  “He doesn’t know anything about it, and I must ask you not to speak of the matter in his hearing. Nothing has brought him such pleasure these past weeks than the thought of you joining the Carmichael clan. I know you wouldn’t wish to deny him of that pleasure during his last days.”

  “I willna speak of it,” she said, and he saw a spark of defiance in her eyes. “The whole thing’s absurd. My mother wouldna agree to it. She’d have gladly taken in a foundling, but never Miriam’s child. My mother suffered too much because of that woman.”

  As tears glinted in her eyes, he squeezed her cold hands ready to take her in his arms, but afraid she still somehow blamed him. “Try to forget it. You’ll be safe at Stonecrest, I promise.”

  The tears spilled over as she lifted her gaze. “How can you promise? The whole clan will hate me. Vanora will make certain of that. You too must understand we canna be joined as husband and wife with this hanging over me.” Her voice dropped and her lips quivered. “That’s why you slept on the chaise last night.”

  He recoiled, looking at her from under drawn brows. “That had nothing to do with it. I knew you were tired, and…I…I suppose I wanted a better start to our marriage.” Though true, he cursed Vanora for interfering and assigned a fair share of the blame to himself as well.

  She withdrew her hands and scooted further back. “Yet I think we should wait until these lies at put to rest. We canna bring a child into the world under the circumstances.”

  Visions of his heather scented bedroom and the pipes drifted away. He should have realized Vanora wouldn’t leave without a parting shot, but if she thought she could prevent him from siring as many children as God pleased to send, she was sorely mistaken. “I won’t allow Vanora to interfere with our marriage or tell me we can’t have a child.”

  Without warning, she took his hand in hers and beseeched him with watery blue eyes. “I feared you’d take that stand, but we must wait. Give it some time…please. I’m certain I can convince the clan I’m truly Hester’s daughter. I’ll find proof to refute Vanora. Let’s give it some time.” Her voice choked. “Besides we doona really ken each other.”

  He felt her trembling and watched her lips quiver. Compassion overcame him as he pulled her into his arms, letting her soak his coat. “I’ve been an unfeeling cad, Alana. You’re right. Every lass deserves to be wooed before the wedding, yet I’ve come in and uprooted you from all you’ve known. We’ll give it time, but not because of Vanora. I’ll protect you from her. Aye, and the clans, if need be. I’ll protect you with my life, Alana.”

  She raised her head, a look of astonishment on her face. “Now I ken why you married me while Rory ran off. It isna that you doona believe I was born on the wrong side of the blanket. You doona care.”

  “That’s right, Alana. I don’t care who your parents were.”


  He lowered his head to capture her lips, but she pulled back and pressed her hands to her face as fresh tears fell. “Oh, Gavin, God has answered my prayers. I was such a dim-wit, I dinna see it. All my life I’ve prayed that if I ever married, my husband wouldna care about what my father did...that he would…” She hiccupped. “God must think me most ungrateful because I kept thinking when Rory came my prayers would never be answered. Then you came, and I thought you only cared for your clan’s honor, but you were really God’s answer to my prayers.” Sobs racked her body.

  Guilt nagged Gavin’s conscience. Rather than being an answer from God, he’d taken Alana to wife for no other reason than to please his father and to be rid of Vanora.

  He pulled a handkerchief from his coat, not knowing how to stop her weeping, and trying to call to mind some way to make her forget Vanora and Rory, her father, the clans, and everyone else in the world except them. Where were the words to reassure Alana they could consummate their marriage without further delay? The two days they would be on the road should be enough time to get to know each other. But how could he think of anything with her still leaning against him with her adoring eyes beseeching him?

  As he wiped her tears, the fog in his brain lifted, and he remembered the broach. He fished it out of his coat pocket and laid it on her palm.

  Her astonished gaze held him, and he bent to claim his kiss, but she ducked her head, and his lips brushed her hair instead. He glanced to where she fingered the emerald piece. “There are other jewels in the Stonecrest vault, but they’re entailed. I wanted to give you this for your own.”

  His glance fell to where she fingered the emerald piece. “No one has ever given me such a grand present. This is the first gift I’ve ever received.”

  It was a cheap babble. He doubted the gold was real, and the small emerald it held inconsequential. It was the best he could find in DunStar, but he resolved to get her a better piece. The way she stroked the jewel told him she’d always cherish this one more than any.