Fiona laughed. She was certain that was true.
Eleven
Eoin nearly dropped his sparring sword when he caught sight of Fiona returning from the walk with his sister. The wind had tossed her hair into a wild cloak of curls and deepened the roses in her cheeks. Laughing, windblown, and with her arms full of heather, she looked more faerie-like than human—like the sprite who’d goaded him from the branches of a tree. The sudden pain in his side drew him back. Marcas, with whom he was sparring, landed a solid blow to his ribs.
“God’s teeth, Laird, pay attention to what ye’re doing. I expected ye to parry that.”
“Ye’re right. I’m sorry. I deserved it; I let myself be distracted.” Eoin rubbed his side to ease the pain. “I’ll probably have a reminder of my lapse for days.”
Marcas’ eyes followed Eoin’s gaze to see what had taken his attention so completely. “Ah, yer little captive. She is quite lovely. Bram Sutherland is a lucky man. That is if he ever gets the opportunity to pay her ransom.”
Marcas was provoking him. He knew Eoin hadn’t sent a ransom demand to Laird Sutherland yet. “Drop it, Marcas.”
“Ye aren’t being very fair to her.”
“I am just waiting until we get news back on the other issue.”
“I know what ye’re doing. Ye want her and ye’re afraid Sutherland will pay the ransom, because ye know full well ye would in his shoes.”
“I said drop it. Besides, I am under no obligation to seek a ransom from Sutherland. She is a MacNicol and Bhaltair refused to pay. She is mine if I want her. She doesn’t even know Sutherland.”
Marcas let out a barking laugh. “And she knows ye’re her uncle’s worst enemy and the man who holds her captive. Frankly, if I were her, Sutherland would seem a better choice, regardless of how little she knows about him. Not to mention, he is a handsome devil and ye are…well…” Marcas grinned at him.
Eoin scowled. “Ye aren’t her and I didn’t ask yer opinion.”
A look of dawning realization crossed Marcas’ face. “By God’s holy bones, ye think ye love her.”
“Marcas, what will it take to shut ye up?”
“Eoin, I am talking to ye as one of yer oldest friends now. If ye love her, tell her what ye have done…or haven’t done as the case may be. Tell her why. She deserves that. Ye know it broke her heart when her ransom wasn’t paid. She feels discarded. She may not know Bram Sutherland or have any love for him, but believing that he doesn’t want her either has to hurt.”
“I was just hoping…”
“By some miracle ye will find her brother alive, and she will be so grateful she’ll fall madly in love with ye? And then what? She is betrothed to Bram Sutherland. That is an alliance the MacNicols need. Although I doubt Alec is alive, if he is and ye find him, he will thank ye, pay the ransom, and hand his sister over to Sutherland. Sadly, then it won’t only be yer heart that’s broken.”
“Then I need to find a way to marry her before I find her brother alive.”
Marcas shook his head ruefully. “Ye’re on a fool’s journey, Laird. She is betrothed. Ye can’t marry her.”
“Ye’re wrong, Marcas. It isn’t a fool’s journey, and if there is a way to marry her, I’ll find it.” He walked away, leaving Marcas to stare in his wake.
A small part of him suspected Marcas wasn’t wrong, but he couldn’t turn back now. He did want her. What man wouldn’t? She was beautiful, clever, and feisty enough to be a challenge. He smiled as he remembered the way she’d stepped between him and Anna on the day he captured her. With her hands still bound, she was ready to defend her captor’s sister. Even at the tender age of eleven she’d been brave and cheeky.
Aside from all that, he owed her his life, and he wanted to repay his debt by spending the rest of his life loving and caring for her, if God would allow it. However, he needed to discuss a few things with Father Tomas first. Priests often served as legal advisors when ecclesiastical matters were concerned. The legalities surrounding betrothals and weddings were among these.
~ * ~
The next day Eoin planned to make good on his promise to escort Anna and Fiona on a brief ride in the afternoon. He made arrangements for an escort and to have their horses ready after the midday meal. However, when he arrived in the great hall, Anna was absent. As he took his seat at the head of the table he asked, “Where is Anna?”
Fiona answered, “She isn’t feeling well today.”
“What’s wrong? Is she ill?”
“There is nothing to worry about. She’ll be fine.”
“Are ye sure? Anna is almost never ill. Has the healer seen her?”
“Nay the healer isn’t needed. She will feel better tomorrow.”
“How can ye be sure?” Eoin was worried. Even a sometimes minor illness could become deadly if not properly cared for.
Fiona blushed. “I’m sure because it is just—just—”
“Just what?”
If anything, her blush deepened and she dropped her voice. “Eoin, it is just her time of the month and she is a bit…uncomfortable today.”
“Oh.” He should have left well enough alone.
“But it is very sweet that ye worry so about her.” Fiona smiled.
Dear God, he hadn’t seen that often enough. “Well I—I—well I’m glad it isn’t serious.”
They managed to get through the meal without broaching any other painfully embarrassing topics. As everyone rose to leave, Eoin touched Fiona’s arm. “Come. Let me take ye riding as I promised I would yesterday.”
“But Anna isn’t up to it.”
“We’ll go again when she is. I thought ye might enjoy an outing anyway.”
“I would. But Anna…”
Her concern for his sister was touching. “Anna will understand, and we won’t be gone long.” He offered her his hand. She only hesitated a moment before taking it. They walked to the stables and he held her hand until they reached the stalls. Several of his guardsmen were already there and stable hands were saddling his stallion, Fiona’s mare and Anna’s gelding, Sorely.
Fiona greeted her mare as a beloved pet, kissing her velvet nose. The mare nuzzled Fiona then pushed her nose against her mistress’s hand. “Morag, my sweet, I didn’t bring ye a treat today, but we’re going to go out for a bit. Won’t that be lovely?”
Eoin smiled at her enthusiasm. “Lachie, ye can return Sorley to his stall.” He patted Sorely’s flank. “I’m sorry, lad, yer mistress isn’t riding with us today.”
Donald, who was waiting to accompany them, said, “If Lady Anna isn’t going, do ye need all three of us?”
“Aye, I think it’s best.”
“To protect her?” Donald asked in disbelief.
Fiona furrowed her brow at his tone.
Eoin glared at him. “Are ye questioning my orders?”
“Nay, Laird.”
“Good. Then shall we go?” He helped Fiona onto Morag, mounted his own horse, and they rode out of the gates, through the village and onto the heath east of Naomh-dùn. After they had travelled a small distance at a sedate canter, Eoin pulled his horse in. “Fiona, care for a bit of a run?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, aye, I’d love that.”
“Do ye think that’s wise, Laird?” Donald asked. “She escaped from us once before.”
Fiona’s cheeks reddened and she looked away.
“That is the second time ye have questioned my orders today, Donald. I think it would be better for ye to return to the keep now and resume yer normal duties.”
“Laird, I only meant—”
“I know what ye meant and it is none of yer concern. Ye have yer orders.”
“Aye, Laird.” He bowed his head briefly, turned his horse and rode back to Naomh-dùn.
Eoin turned his attention to Fiona, who still avoided eye contact. Damnation! The last thing he wanted was to remind her that she was technically a captive. He reached over and nudged her chin until she looked at him. “Fiona, lass, please don’t let
that bother ye. Ye made me a promise and I accepted it. Why don’t we let that fat pony of yers have a little trot?”
Her eyes flashed. “She’s not fat, she’s not a pony, and I’ll show ye a little trot.” She clicked her tongue and Morag was off.
He laughed heartily. After ordering his men to stay back a ways, he followed, letting her run ahead until Morag slowed, then he pulled alongside her.
“Feel better?”
Fiona slowed her mount to a trot. “Aye. Thank ye.”
“My pleasure. Will ye walk with me for a bit, while the horses get their wind?”
She nodded, so he dismounted, lifted her to the ground and they walked, each leading their mount.
After a few moments of silence she asked, “Are there many of them?”
“Many of whom?”
“MacKays who hate me.”
“No MacKays hate ye.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “I believe ye. Thousands wouldn’t. Donald certainly doesn’t like me.”
He grinned. He found her cheekiness adorable. “Donald is different. I don’t think he hates ye specifically, but his brother was one of the men who was killed the night yer uncle captured me.”
“I remember. He said something about that when I was up the tree. There must be others like him, people who have lost family members over the years. I’m sure there are MacNicols with long memories. Clearly my uncle is one of them.”
“Fiona, no one hates ye. Ye saved my life. But ye’re right; there has been bitterness between our clans for years. I don’t even know why really.”
“So it will just go on that way forever? MacNicols hate MacKays; MacKays hate MacNicols.”
“Aye. Just as MacLeods and MacKays hate each other and MacIans and Mathesons hate each other.”
“And it never stops? Hatred begets hatred, that’s what Father Tomas told me.”
“There is one way to stop it.”
“How?”
“Ye could marry me.” By all that’s holy, this isn’t how he had planned to do it.
She looked at him askance. “Marry? Ye?”
“A marriage alliance between clans is the oldest, strongest bond there is.”
“But this wouldn’t be a marriage alliance. My uncle has essentially cut me out of the clan by refusing to pay my ransom. He has relinquished me. Eoin, I know what it means. Ye could sell me as a slave or keep me as a leman. I don’t have the protection of my clan anymore.”
He stopped and took her hands in his. “Ye have my protection, and I would like to give ye the protection of my clan. Fiona, I want ye to marry me. Ye’re right. It wouldn’t be a marriage alliance, strictly speaking, but perhaps it would be the first step towards peace between our clans.”
“But I’m betrothed to Bram Sutherland.”
“Ye didn’t seem overly pleased about marrying Bram.”
“I wasn’t. He was my uncle’s choice, but I’m not free to marry anyone else as long as the contract stands.”
“I’ve spoken to Father Tomas about this and he thinks the contract is no longer valid. As ye said, by not paying the ransom, yer uncle gave up his authority over ye. Father Tomas believes the betrothal contract is void.”
“Void? Really? Maybe that is why the Sutherlands haven’t responded to yer ransom demand.”
Guilt flooded him. Damnation. Marcas was right.
“Fiona, love, I didn’t send Sutherland a ransom demand.”
She looked confused. “Ye didn’t? Why not?”
“I don’t want them to pay it. I can’t stand the thought of ye marrying Bram Sutherland.”
“I thought ye said ye didn’t know him well. Is he that bad?”
He wanted to tell her Bram was a monster to be avoided at all costs, but he couldn’t lie. “I don’t know him very well. By all accounts he is a decent man, but Fiona, he could be good Saint Joseph himself and I wouldn’t want ye to marry him. I want ye to marry me. Sutherland doesn’t know ye; he can’t love ye.”
“Ye don’t love me either.”
“Oh, Fiona, but I do. I love ye very much. Nothing would make me happier than taking ye to wife.”
She looked thunderstruck.
“Would that be such an awful thing? Do ye hate me that much?”
“I don’t hate ye. Well I did for a while, when ye had me locked up. For years I—I—well it doesn’t matter. I don’t hate ye.”
“Fiona, I do love ye. It would tear the heart from me to send ye to Sutherland, but sweetling, if that is what ye want, I will contact him.”
“I was only marrying Sutherland because my uncle was forcing me to. He said it was in the best interests of the clan. He said they needed the alliance.”
“I won’t lie to ye, an alliance between the Sutherlands and the MacNicols would be very good for both clans, but perhaps Bhaltair should have thought about that before leaving ye here. If ye want time to think this through, I will wait as long as I need to. And sweetling, even if ye don’t choose to marry me, and ye don’t want to marry Bram, ye will continue to have a home here with us for as long as ye wish. I have sworn to protect ye, and I will for as long as ye allow me.” He gazed intently into her beautiful eyes, hoping, praying that she wouldn’t flatly refuse him.
Twelve
Marry Eoin MacKay. How many times had she imagined him rescuing her and carrying her off to his castle? She had believed she was in love with him for years. She never forgot that night when weak and feverish, barely able to hold himself on his horse, he worried about her suffering for what she had done. He wanted her to go with him, so he could protect her. Of course that was before he took her captive himself. Still, he hadn’t harmed her or any of the guardsmen who were captured with her. He saw they were well cared for, in spite of the mistreatment he had received at Castle MacNicol. He turned out to be as kind and handsome as she had always imagined. His home was filled with love, and now he stood declaring his love for her. Was it possible? Could he love her?
With all her heart she hoped so. It had been so many years since she felt truly loved. Just being here at Naomh-dùn, in the midst of the noise, the arguments and the love, even for such a short time, made her crave it more than she ever had.
She had no one left who truly loved her. Although she was willing to marry Bram Sutherland out of duty, for the good of her clan, her uncle apparently didn’t feel the same sense of duty towards her. Because of that, for the first time in her life, she had the opportunity to make a decision based solely on what she wanted. She desperately wanted Eoin to love her, and she wanted to love him back.
She looked into his eyes. They were filled with hope and a little fear. She smiled. He’s afraid I’ll say no. Perhaps after everything that had happened she should let him suffer a bit, but she simply couldn’t. “I don’t need time to think. I don’t want to marry Bram Sutherland. I never did. I haven’t known ye very long, but in some ways it is as if I’ve known ye for years. I will marry ye, Eoin MacKay.”
“Oh, Fiona.” He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. It was wonderful. His lips were gentle at first but grew more demanding. She opened her lips to him and his tongue plundered her mouth. She was lost. When he finally released her lips, he pulled her into an embrace, holding her close as if he dreaded to let her go. “Sweetling, this isn’t the way I planned to ask ye to marry me, but ye have made me very happy.”
~ * ~
Although Fiona had agreed to marry him and felt it was the right decision, she was quiet and a bit nervous on the way back to the keep. She was worried about how the clan would receive the news of their betrothal. She was, after all, a MacNicol, the daughter of a clan with whom the MacKay’s had feuded for years. Welcoming her as a guest who had once saved their laird’s life was one thing, accepting her as their lady might be another.
She had no reason to fear. Eoin didn’t want to wait long for the wedding and she saw no reason to either, so he announced their betrothal at the evening meal. For the most part the clan received the news with
joy. There were a few clansmen who didn’t seem happy, although the only one who put voice to his disapproval was the guardsman, Donald. “Laird, ye can’t mean this? She is a MacNicol.”
“Donald, please try to set yer hatred aside.”
“But Bhaltair killed—”
“I’m not marrying Bhaltair, and perhaps marrying Fiona will help bring peace to our clans.”
“Peace? I don’t want peace. I want vengeance for my brother’s life.”
“Enough, Donald. I am sorry yer brother lost his life that night, but Fiona had naught to do with that. I will hear no more of this.”
Donald’s mouth set in a grim line. “Aye, Laird.” He nodded and said no more, but left the great hall a few minutes later, clearly still angry.
After that brief outburst she was greeted with nothing but words of welcome and abundant good wishes. The people’s joyous response quieted many of her concerns. She realized that she too needed to accept them as her clan.
Father Tomas posted the banns the next day, on the feast of Saint David of Scotland. It was a formality really, but given the broken betrothal contract with the Sutherlands, Eoin didn’t want to take any chances. The next few days flew by in a blur of preparations.
Fiona wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Initially it made her the slightest bit uncomfortable, but not for long. The warmth and acceptance she felt from the MacKay’s was like a balm to her soul. Once she opened her heart to them, she felt thoroughly embraced by her new clan.
More importantly, she became fully aware of her love for Eoin. He was the warrior she had always dreamed of—strong, handsome, thoughtful and attentive. Perhaps unwittingly, she had forged a bond of friendship eight years earlier and had nursed it since. Marrying someone who she already liked was a blessing many noble women weren’t granted. Her parents had married for love, but she knew that was rare. A betrothal such as the one her uncle had arranged was much more common. However, while Eoin had declared his love for her and she believed she could grow to love him, she didn’t know much about love.
Anna helped shake her doubts the afternoon before the wedding. Anna was helping her make a new blue léine to wear for the ceremony and chattering away as she usually did, when in her typical bold fashion she asked, “Do ye love Eoin?”
Highland Revenge (Fated Hearts Book 1) Page 7