“I will. ’Tis good to see you up and about, Malcolm. I’m glad you are home.”
Malcolm reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “’Tis good to be home.”
Robley grinned at Malcolm as he descended the stairs to the great hall. “Up and about, cousin? I’ve come in Liam’s stead. He’s on the mainland doing guard duty. I believe this is the day he guards our Lady True.”
“Can you tell me where she is?”
“Aye. I take my turn guarding her camp. We all do.” He chuckled. “True has no idea she is so well protected. There is no’ a single MacKintosh here who does no’ ken what she does each and every day, yet none speak of it.”
“Take me to her.”
“I am the clan’s first choice to wed the lass.”
“Robley, dinna push me.” Malcolm’s control was at an end. He glared at his cousin and stood his ground.
“Humph. Let us be off.” Robley turned on his heel and headed to the ferry landing.
The day was uncharacteristically fair for this time of year, and Malcolm was glad for the sun warming him as the ferry took them across the loch. He surveyed the forest, now bare of leaves, and spied True’s thin column of smoke. Had she no sense at all? He shook his head and frowned. ’Twas a good thing Liam had maintained the perimeter guard, for surely her camp would have been a beacon for brigands and worse. The thought of Black Hugh riding the hills crossed his mind, and a chill slipped down his spine.
“I ken what you’re thinking, Malcolm.” Robley met his gaze with a grave expression. “She’s no’ been raised in the Highlands or in the manner we have. It hasna occurred to her the smoke gives her away. She’s no’ had an easy time of it. Consider her tender feelings before you crush her further.”
“Think you I dinna ken I’m to blame for this?” Malcolm scowled at his cousin. “You need no’ worry about her tender feelings.”
“Aye, but I do. If she refuses you, I will offer for her.”
Malcolm had never before seen Robley so serious. “She will no’ refuse me.”
His cousin made no reply as the ferry landed.
Robley had described where her camp had been set, and Malcolm immediately knew the place of which his cousin spoke. ’Twas just around the next bend in the burn flowing toward the loch. Careful to keep quiet, he rounded the curve and came to a halt. The sight caused his eyes to widen and his jaw to drop. All thoughts for her tender feelings fled. He stomped into the clearing with every muscle in his body tense. “Alethia,” he growled. “You will get dressed this instant.”
She jerked around, a startled look on her face. “Oh crap.”
“Oh crap indeed. What are you wearing?” He couldn’t take his eyes from her. The blue trews she wore fit her like skin, showing every feminine curve right up to the juncture of her thighs. Her chemise was no better. Clinging to her as it did, he could see the contours of her breasts and the dark outline of her nipples right through the fabric. The thought of other men seeing her garbed thus enraged him—and this had been going on for weeks. “You are finished here,” he ground out through his clenched jaw.
“No.” She turned her back to him, arranging a hide over a tripod of branches.
“You insult my hospitality and think to defy me?” He took a step toward her. “I bade you remain behind the curtain wall until my return.”
Facing him, she straightened and met his scowl with one of her own. “This has nothing to do with insulting your hospitality or defying your commands. In fact, this has nothing to do with you at all. You left me.”
Her words were spoken without rancor, yet they fell across his skin like a lash, leaving behind an angry welt. “Nay, lass. I—”
“Yes, Malcolm. You left me.” She fed the fire under the hide, her back to him once again. “I’m grateful, because it forced me to take stock of my situation.”
Her calmness disturbed him, though he could not put his finger on why. “Your situation?”
“What would become of me if you hadn’t returned? At what point do I cease being a guest and start pulling my own weight?” She lifted her chin. “It’s time I make a place and a life for myself.”
“Alethia…” The welt her words had opened became a gaping wound.
“In my world, I knew where I belonged. In your world, I have no place. Things aren’t so different between your country and mine. A woman must be provided for and protected by a father, a brother, an uncle…a male relative…” A husband. She shrugged her shoulders. “Here I have no one. Don’t you see? I must make my own way, earn my keep.”
Her shrug nearly undid him. Her vulnerability was like salt in the wound her words had opened. Such a wee thing to be so all alone in an unfamiliar world. “’Tis all my fault.” He stepped closer, taking her hands in his. She tried to tug them free. He held tight, examining them front and back. They were chapped, raw and callused. He swallowed hard. “Do you remember the day I found you?”
“Of course.”
“I took note of your hands that day. They were so soft and smooth, with nary a callus to mar their perfection. I knew you were a gently bred lady.”
She snatched her hands from his grasp. “Nothing is your fault, Malcolm. Don’t you think I realize how fortunate I am that you took me in?” She shuddered and rubbed her arms. “What would have happened if someone like Hugh had found me first?”
“It is my fault. You’re my responsibility.” His words came out in a hoarse rasp.
“Where did you get that idea?” She snorted. “You’re not obligated to me in any way. I’m not your responsibility just because Giselle left me on your path.” Her chin lifted, but her eyes didn’t meet his. “I am grateful for the roof over my head and the food I have eaten at your table. Now it’s time I stopped acting like your guest and start repaying my debt.”
This had naught to do with defying him and everything to do with her uncertainty. And her pride. He gazed around the camp, noting for the first time the neatly stacked furs and skins, the strips of meat drying over a second fire.
He’d failed her. He had left her—alone, frightened and uncertain about her future in a foreign land. The insight laid him low. He was the worst kind of churl. Not only had he neglected to see to her needs, he’d neglected to let her know her place in his life—and in his heart. He took their future together for granted while she had no inkling they even had a future. Overcome, he moved away from her, needing distance to gain control of his roiling emotions.
Did she still care for him? He certainly didn’t deserve it if she did. Yet, every night she came to tend to his wound, and every day her tea eased his aches and pains, helping him to heal. He knew what he had to do, what he should have done from the very start.
His sister had said Alethia feared being taken from them at any time. Her pride and independence were important to her. It would be best to secure her future without her knowing what he intended. She’d object. Or worse, she’d bolt.
“Would you feel better if you were a MacKintosh, Alethia? ’Twould give you a measure of security, would it no’?” He returned to her side as she continued to work. “You’d have a place.”
“You mean like being adopted into the clan?” She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “My people have a ceremony like that. It’s called ‘relative by choice.’ It’s a very serious promise. Is that what you mean?”
“Something like that, aye.” He watched as she brought a thumbnail to her mouth while thinking it over. God’s blood, he longed to take her into his arms and hold her. This path had to be trod carefully. He did not want to frighten her into rebellion.
“It would be an honor to become a MacKintosh, but it wouldn’t really change anything. I’d still earn my own way.”
“I have your consent?”
“Yes, Malcolm.” She nodded, her eyes large and grave.
The solemn look on her face tugged at his heart. “Get dressed, lass. I dinna want any of my men to see you thus.” He took several steps away and turned towa
rd the forest, acutely aware of her presence. The sounds of garments being removed and replaced caused his body to tighten and his blood to heat.
“Malcolm?”
“Aye, lass.”
“Just because I become a MacKintosh, doesn’t mean that you’re—”
“Dinna say it,” he growled.
“Don’t say what?”
“Dinna say that I am no’ a bossamee.” The sound of her laughter healed the welt her words had left on his hide. He grinned into the forest. All would be well.
“It’s three words, Malcolm. Boss. Of. Me. Boss refers to someone who has authority over a person.”
“Authority, you say? And as you see it, I dinna have authority over you?”
“Nope. I am my own boss.”
He grinned. “Hmmm. Once you become a MacKintosh, you will be under my authority. All the clan is, lass.”
“That’s different. I’m talking personal authority, and you’re talking clan authority.”
“Aye?” Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw she’d dressed once again in a proper gown. Giving a sharp whistle, he waited for his men to answer his summons. Robley and Liam were the first to appear. True’s surprised expression amused him. Galen came forward next, along with his brother, Gareth. Angus took up the rear. Malcolm spoke to them in rapid Gaelic. Liam nodded and came forward. With his knife, he cut a strip from the end of Malcolm’s feileadh breacan. The rest of his men formed a loose circle in the clearing.
“Alethia, come to me.” Once she stood next to him, he reached for her right hand, taking hold of it around the wrist with his right hand. Liam wrapped the strip of plaid around their joined wrists several times, binding the ends together in a knot. “What is your whole name, mo cridhe?”
“Alethia Grace Goodsky.”
“True Grace.” He smiled into her eyes as his men murmured appreciation. “I will speak first. Then I will tell you what to say in response. ’Twill be spoken in Gàidhlig.” She nodded, her eyes wide with trust. He spoke his vows quickly.
“I’ll say the words for your response, and you repeat them.” True nodded, and he began. He knew she strained to understand what she was saying. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her head tilted slightly as if doing so would help her hear the words more clearly.
“Mo colann means my body. What am I to do with my body, Malcolm?”
“We’ll think of something, lass.” His men chortled. Alethia’s expression went from curious to suspicious in a trice. “Ah, you’re pledging your fealty, Alethia. Many of our words have different meanings depending on how they’re used.”
She studied him for a moment, nodded and told him to proceed. ’Twas the truth, and he was certain she’d read it from him. Once she completed her vows, he leaned down and kissed her lightly.
“Galen, see that my wife’s things are packed and taken to the island.”
“What? Wait. Wife?” Alethia’s eyes went around the circle of men, twice, before she could look at Malcolm. “What just happened here?”
“We handfasted.”
“What does that mean?”
He leaned down close to her ear, and his warm breath sent a tingle down to her toes. “It means we’ve said our wedding vows before God and witnesses.” He repeated the vows—in English this time: “I, Malcolm William, son of William of clan MacKintosh, pledge my troth to thee, Alethia Grace Goodsky. With my hands, I shall provide for thee. With my body, I pledge to protect thee. With my heart, I shall cherish thee, and only thee, all the days of my life. As God is my witness, and before my clan, from this day forward, we are husband and wife.”
He grinned. “You are my wife. I am your husband.”
“I see no priest here.” Alethia could hardly breathe; her heart beat a quick staccato in her chest.
“Priests are hard to come by in the Highlands, Cousin True.” Robley gave her a brief hug, his usual grin absent. “Unions take place without the benefit of a priest’s blessing because we are so far removed from society. Rather than have us all live in sin, the Church has sanctioned handfasting as legal and binding. A priest comes in the spring to bless all the handfasted couples and baptize their bairns.”
Stars danced before her eyes, and the world spun. “No.” She tugged at their bound wrists, her hand trembling as she tried to work the knot free with one hand. “You should have said. I can’t…I can’t go through…No, no, no!” She stomped her foot.
“Leave us,” Malcolm commanded his men.
Her whole body trembled, and panic made her frantic to untie their bound wrists. “Why did you do this? You didn’t ask. I can’t go through that again. I can’t.”
Malcolm took one side of the knot and held it so she could work it free. He unwrapped the strip of wool and tucked it into his sporran. “You canna go through what again, Alethia?”
She tried to bring air into her lungs and couldn’t get enough. No way did she want to have this conversation, but the devil drew her into his arms, and she was lost. His solid strength felt so damn good, so warm, safe. She burst into tears.
“Wheesht, love.” His hand went up and down her back. “What is it that you canna go through again?”
“I can’t sit around for a month waiting to hear that you’re…you’re…” She put her arms around his waist and sobbed into his chest. “I didn’t think you would come back. I thought I’d lost you. I can’t love you only to lose you.” Placing her ear on his chest, she listened to the beat of his heart. God, she’d missed him. “Don’t men here ask a woman first before marrying them?”
“I did ask.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Aye, I did. I asked if being a MacKintosh would make you feel better. Now you’re a MacKintosh.”
“You didn’t tell me becoming a MacKintosh involved getting married!” His smug tone lit the wick of her already frayed nerves. “This doesn’t count. I need to go home. I have a future, a family…and…and…Juilliard.”
“Who is this Juilliard you speak of?”
Malcolm’s voice had gone hard, and her head started to throb. “Juilliard is a place, not a person. Everything that meant anything to me has been snatched away.” She massaged her temples.
“Everything?”
The hurt in his voice penetrated the fog in her mind, and suddenly everything seemed too much to bear. “Your father will never approve. I have nothing to offer to this union.” She closed her eyes against the conflict of emotions overwhelming her. She loved him. She loved her family. “Am I never to see my home and family again?”
“You said yourself the Norse have ventured to your land in the past. If they can make the journey, we can as well. What say you to that?” He leaned down to peer into her eyes. “If I were to take you home, would it ease your mind? Would it no’ give your family peace to see you well settled?”
She looked at him through her tears. “You would do that for me?” Of course it couldn’t happen, but still the offer melted her insides. Her heart lurched. A life with Malcolm tempted her away from her fears—life without him seemed a far worse proposition.
“Aye. I mean to do all in my power to make you happy. Dinna vex yourself about my father. I am my own man and make my own choices. I care naught for more land. You bring yourself to our union, and ’tis more than enough for me.”
Malcolm put his arms around her once again, and she swallowed the constriction lodged in her throat.
“You said you wanted a large family, aye?” He lifted her chin and brushed his lips against hers. “I want that as well. We can start right away. Tonight.”
Her body shivered from his touch, and his words were a seductive promise. “What about Giselle? What will we do when she comes for me?”
“I willna let her take you.” His tone carried a hard edge, like the blade of his claymore.
“You don’t know…I haven’t told you everything.”
“It matters not. Giselle will no’ take you. I vowed to protect you, and I will.” His hold tight
ened. “Have faith in me, lass.”
“Why, Malcolm? Why did you do this?” She longed to place her faith in him, to let go of the fear she lived with every day.
“I won’t have you worry about the future another moment. As my wife your place is secure. Today is our wedding day, Alethia. I had intended that we would wed since the day I found you by the side of the road. ’Twas my wish to wait until spring and my father’s return.”
“Spring?” Her mind went back to their day in the forest. “When you said you couldn’t wait until spring, that day we…”
“Aye, mo céile, and I’ve already sent for a priest. We may see one ere long. Will you agree to be my wife if we say our vows before a priest?”
His expression was so tender and hopeful her heart melted in her chest. She snuggled closer to his body. “Now you’re asking?” She snorted against his shoulder. “What does mo céile mean anyway?”
“My wife.”
“What’s the word for husband?”
He took her earlobe between his teeth, sending a delicious shiver racing down her spine, and whispered into her ear.
“Boss.”
“Ha! In your dreams.” She burrowed her head into his shoulder to hide her smile. “Yes, Malcolm. I will agree to be your wife. Do you think…?”
“The word for husband is the same as the word for wife. Do I think what, Alethia?”
“Is this what I was sent here to do?” She touched his wounded arm. “Has the danger passed?”
He put his finger under her chin, tilting her face up so their eyes met. “There will always be danger. ’Tis the way of things.”
She nodded and let go of the final thread of resistance. Today was her wedding day, and Malcolm her husband. And if she stayed in his arms until the trembling stopped, maybe everything would be all right. Reality sank deep into her bones—her future lay here in the past. Her family, Gran—they’d be fine without her, and she’d keep them always in her heart. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“You have my word. I willna leave without letting you know first, but I canna promise never to defend our people again.” His eyes held hers until she nodded. “Where is Hunter?” he asked, releasing her from his arms. “’Tis time we return to the island.”
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 19