She nodded against his shoulder and wondered if she should mention she hadn’t really been sleeping when Robley told him about Giselle’s whereabouts.
Alethia watched Mairen interact with Elaine and Lydia as they all sat in the solar. It had been eight days since they’d rescued the Comyn’s daughter, and a week since Mairen and Liam had handfasted. She wanted to be close to Liam’s new wife, and only one thing prevented her from feeling at ease.
Mairen’s soft brown eyes gave no hint whether or not she knew Alethia had been the one who shot the arrow that killed her brother. She studied the woman. The evidence of her father’s brutality had faded. Her lip had healed, and she no longer cringed when spoken to. Her bruises were yellowish smudges that would soon be gone altogether.
Everything about Mairen seemed soft—from her light golden-brown hair to her large brown eyes. She radiated goodness. How had such a warm and caring person come from such a cold, cruel father? She wondered what Mairen’s mother must have been like. Had she willingly married the Red Comyn, or had she been given to him by an indifferent father?
They would remain in residence until negotiations were complete with the Comyns remaining at Castle Rait. Liam also wished to see his parents safely returned with William. Gathering her courage, Alethia prepared herself to broach the subject that had haunted her dreams. “Mairen, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Nay, True. You dinna need to speak of it. I ken what troubles you.” Mairen put her work in her lap and turned her attention to True. “Liam told me what occurred in the great hall at Rait.”
“I killed your brother.”
“You saved your husband’s life, Liam’s and mine.” Mairen took her hand in both of hers. “My father and brother were two of a kind. John and I were ne’er close. What they intended shames me deeply. Do you no’ ken I worry about how you must look upon me?”
“Oh, Mairen.” Relief poured through her. “No one holds you responsible for your father’s actions, or your brother’s. Please, let’s put this behind us.”
“Aye, let’s. We have much to look forward to. Laird William returns soon, and there is the birth of your bairn to anticipate. We are kin.”
“Does everyone on the island know I am with child?” She glanced from Elaine to Lydia.
“Of course, dear.” Lydia beamed.
A single tone sounded from the village horn. “Oh, brother. I’m really beginning to dislike that sound.” Alethia folded the tiny sleep-sack she was making and rose to leave.
“Now you ken why I remain here when I hear it.” Lydia smiled as she continued to work. “Word always reaches me soon enough.”
“Elaine, Mairen, will you join me?” she asked. “I might be needed.”
“I’ll stay with Lydia.” Mairen smiled.
Malcolm scanned the bailey for True. It seemed so long ago he’d insisted she stay inside the keep whenever the village horn sounded. She never had, of course, and he’d grown accustomed to having her by his side at the ferry landing. The shift in his thinking made him smile. She’d proven herself indispensable to the welfare of their clan. Robley had been correct—his people loved her.
True and his sister emerged from the keep at the same time, their arms linked, as they oft were, and their heads bent close to share their most intimate secrets or something they found amusing. The day would come, and soon, that Elaine would be given in marriage. ’Twould be a difficult time for his wife. He stepped into their path. “True, Elaine.” He nodded to his sister. “Come, let us walk to the ferry together.”
Taking True’s hand, he tucked it into the crook of his elbow and studied her carefully. The worry she’d carried since they’d returned from Castle Rait had eased. She glowed with health, and he’d noticed a decline in the morning sickness. “How do you fare this morn, mo céile?”
“I’m great.” She smiled. “I spoke with Mairen about her brother earlier, Malcolm, and everything is good between us.”
Her voice faltered, and it became clear why her worry had eased. Bad dreams about taking the life of Mairen’s brother troubled her oft in the past se’nnight. He’d soothed and comforted her every time until she fell back to sleep. Though she never said, he’d suspected part of her worry centered around Mairen. The issue had been resolved, and he hoped the dreams would cease to plague her. Such dreams could not be good for their bairn.
“Who do you think has arrived?” True tugged at his sleeve.
“’Tis most likely news from my father’s party.” He squeezed her hand. “He will return home shortly.”
“Aye, True,” Elaine added. “My father always sends word when he’s been away for a time. He enjoys a bit of fanfare upon his return.” Elaine exchanged a grin with her brother.
“Just so long as it’s not another clan with an invitation to reconcile,” she muttered.
Chuckling, he reassured her with a brief hug. They reached the landing as the ferry pulled to the shore. Another man wearing the garb of the king’s messenger waited to disembark.
“I am Malcolm, son of William, the earl of Fife. Welcome,” Malcolm greeted their guest.
The messenger bowed slightly once his feet were firmly planted on the beach. “My lord, I am Brian of York, King Henry’s messenger. I bring you word from your father.” Brian took a scroll of parchment from his satchel and handed it to him. “He bid me tell you he arrives one day hence,” Brian said. “He plans to be here in time for the evening meal.”
“Och, he’ll expect a feast.” Elaine clapped her hands together. “Come, True. We’ll tell Mother and Molly. There will be music and dancing, of course.”
“Do you need me?” she asked Malcolm.
“Nay, lass. Go with Elaine. I’ll see our guest settled.” Watching his wife walk back toward the keep, Malcolm vowed to tell his father of his wedded state immediately upon his arrival. And then he’d have to explain Mairen’s presence—and the battle at Rait. “Does our king travel here with my father?”
“Nay, my lord. He travels on to Stirling,” Brian told him as Malcolm guided him through the portcullis. “I travel with your father until his return, and then I’m off to spread the word throughout Scotia of your king’s return.”
Good, word of Castle Rait could not have reached them yet.
His mother’s hand on his arm, and True and Elaine beside him, Malcolm watched as the ferry carried his father, uncle, aunt and their guardsmen across the loch. Their clan lined both sides of the path leading to the keep. The day could not have been more perfect, even if he’d ordered it thus. A few fat clouds drifted in the rare blue sky, and the air held the promise of the coming summer. The ripe scent of the earth ready for tilling and sowing permeated the island.
The ferry landed, and William’s deep laughter filled the air. Malcolm went to him immediately, handing his mother into his father’s waiting arms. ’Twas the same whenever the earl returned. The first thing he always did was seek his wife’s long-missed affection. Malcolm moved forward to clasp his Uncle Robert’s forearm. “’Tis good to see you home safe, Uncle Robert. Aunt Rosemary, welcome.”
Soon the returning MacKintosh were surrounded with their clan, and Malcolm waited to take his place by his father’s side so they could proceed to the keep.
William raised his hands in greeting and raised his voice so all could hear. “’Tis good to be home. I have much to share with you this eve, and I look forward to supping once again in the comfort of my own hall with my clansmen.” A cheer rose, and the crowd parted, making a path for their laird and his family.
Taking his place by his father’s side, Malcolm spoke quietly. “Father, if I could have a moment of your time before we sup, there are things we need to discuss.”
“Can it no’ wait until morning? I want nothing more than a bath, a hot meal and time alone with my lady wife.”
“I would rather we—”
William stopped and put his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Lad, if whatever you have to say is so pressing, why did
you no’ send word of it before today?” He slapped his shoulder. “Come, ’twill keep one more day, aye?”
Why indeed? Mayhap it could wait. What harm, one more day? Seeking True in the crowd, he found her eyes on him, and he gave her a warm smile meant to reassure. She walked with Elaine and Mairen behind the returning members of their garrison. His mother had taken her place on his father’s other side. Perhaps his mother would think to mention his handfasting sometime before the feast. No matter. His father would learn of it soon enough.
The MacKintosh clan filled the great hall to overflowing, and more plank-and-barrel tables had been set up in the bailey to accommodate the crowd attending the feast celebrating their laird’s safe return. Malcolm reached for his wife’s hand under the table. Giving it a squeeze, he smiled into her wide eyes. “’Tis a fine night, aye? After we eat, the tables and benches will be cleared from the hall for music and dancing.”
“True,” Robley said, leaning toward her. “If you dinna feel up to playing this eve, Liam and I will do the honors without you.”
“I’m fine. I want to play.” Her gaze went to the empty spots to Robley’s right. “Where are Liam and Mairen, Robley?”
“They are with my father and mother and will be down shortly, I am certain. The feast will no’ begin until all are present upon the dais.” Robley winked at her.
Malcolm wondered how Liam fared with his parents. Movement on the stairs caught his eye, and he watched Liam and Mairen with Liam’s parents descend into the hall. His uncle’s face was grim, and he wondered which part of their tale had caused the look—the Comyn’s treachery, or their son’s union with the daughter of their enemy? True tugged on his sleeve.
“What is it? I can sense your tension.”
He nodded toward the party coming down the stairs. “My uncle does no’ look happy. I expect things will be somewhat strained this eve.” Even as he spoke, Robert stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gestured to his father to join them, and then whispered in William’s ear. Malcolm watched his father’s face suffuse with color and his expression turned grim as well. Rosemary spoke rapidly, and his father nodded and visibly forced himself to calm down. Lydia had also spoken into his ear. William took Mairen’s hand in his and bowed over it.
Malcolm did not envy his cousin. Liam had his arm protectively around Mairen, whose face looked pinched and pale.
They took their places, and the signal was given to begin the meal. Malcolm let the breath he’d been holding out slowly. All would be well. Tomorrow he’d tell his father the entire tale. For the moment, he’d enjoy a fine meal and the company of his family, who were once again safely reunited.
The table had been cleared, and mugs had been filled with ale and wine. All attention focused upon his father. The clan held their collective breath, waiting for news and the tale of his journey. William rose from his place and pounded the hilt of his dagger upon the wooden surface of the table, signaling his intent to speak.
“Long live King James.” William raised his cup. The hall reverberated with cheers. William raised his hand for quiet, his gaze sweeping the hall to encompass all of them. “’Tis good to be home with kith and kin,” he announced to the approving murmur of their clan. “I have much to tell, but before I begin, I have a surprise which concerns my son and the future of our clan.”
His father turned to face him, and a prickle of unease raised the flesh on the back of Malcolm’s neck. William once again raised his goblet as if to toast. Time stopped as Malcolm listened to the words his father spoke so that all could hear.
“As you all ken, ’tis well past time for Malcolm to take a wife and to give us an heir. I am happy to announce that I have contracted a marriage for him with the daughter of the earl of Mar, our neighbors to the north.” With a satisfied look, he once again swept the hall with his gaze. “’Tis a good match, and ’twill strengthen our clan. She holds vast lands near our allies, the Sutherlands. She is a comely lass as well,” he remarked with a smile. “She and her parents arrive at Moigh Hall within a se’nnight.”
Not a sound came from the hall as all sat in stunned silence, their mouths agape, their eyes riveted upon the drama playing out upon the dais.
Malcolm watched the color leave his wife’s face. Her hand covered their bairn in a protective gesture, and her eyes fixed upon the table in front of her. He didn’t need the skills of a truth-sayer to sense her hurt and humiliation. His gut ached. He had caused this. Never again would he leave to chance anything so affecting to the feelings of those he cared for.
“I am sorry, Father, but it canna be.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
What, Malcolm? Do you defy me in this?” Malcolm’s father faced him with an incredulous look.
“I am already wed.” Malcolm placed his arm around True’s stiff shoulders. “Lady Alethia and I took our vows before God and our clan almost six months past in November. We are handfasted.”
Malcolm watched his father’s jaw clench. His mother accused him with a look, and True’s eyes remained fixed on the trencher in front of her. He ran his hand over his face and wished he could turn back time.
“Come, Malcolm.” His father left the dais abruptly. “To my solar.”
He followed his father and tried to compose himself. ’Twould do no good to lose his temper. As soon as the door shut behind them, his father took his seat and turned to face him, his expression somber.
“When exactly did this handfasting occur?” William gritted out through his clenched jaw.
“Shortly after we retook Meikle Geddes.” So many decisions concerning their clan had taken place in this room, with his father sitting in that very same chair. How many times had he dreamed of the day the chair and the decisions would be his? Malcolm took a deep breath. “And you have no’ yet heard what has transpired between our clan and the Comyns since.”
“Liam told Robert, who has spoken to me briefly about it. Dinna change the subject. Was your letter regarding Meikle Geddes sent to me before or after you wed?”
“After.”
William slammed his fist down on the table, causing an inkwell to bounce and spill. “And you did no’ think to include this bit of news? You did no’ think to tell me? God’s blood, you have put me in an awkward position.”
“Nay, Father. You did that on your own. I never asked you to arrange a marriage for me, nor did I give you my consent. I am a man grown—”
“Your union has no’ yet been blessed by a priest.” William rose from his place and began to pace. “A couple can decide to walk away from a handfasting.”
The intensity of his father’s glare made him feel like he was once again a lad of eight caught in some mischief. “It makes no difference.” He widened his stance, folding his arms over his chest. He knew his father’s thoughts and wanted to head them off. “Our union will be blessed within a fortnight.”
His father scowled at him. “Or you can keep the woman as your leman, and marry the earl of Mar’s daughter as your laird and father bids you.”
Malcolm’s temper slipped. “The woman has a name. She is Lady Alethia Goodsky, the daughter of a king, and she is my wife. I will have no other.”
William waved his comment away like he would swat at a fly. “Have you taken leave of your senses? You found the lass by the side of the road. She brings nothing to the union, and she’s no’ even a Scot. I granted you the privilege of choosing your bride with the stipulation that it be an advantageous union.” William leaned toward him across the table. “As my heir, you have a duty to your clan and to the earldom. Keep Alethia, but give Scotia heirs who will join two powerful clans and mayhap one day the earldoms of Fife and Mar. ’Tis an acceptable solution. Wed a Scot, lad. The match I have arranged pleases James, and it pleases me.”
“It does not please me. I will no’ have you dishonor my wife.” Guilt weighed heavy upon him. Had he sent word to his father of his handfasting back in November, they would not be at odds now. Yet, his father bore an equal share of t
he blame. He had sent no word of his plans either.
“Och, man. The earl of Mar and his daughter are on their way.” William took his seat again and rubbed his hands over his face. “This does no’ bode well. We canna renege on the contract. ’Twill cause bad blood between our clans at a time when we can ill afford it. King James will hear of Red Comyn’s death—and his son’s. I dinna ken what he will make of it.”
“Mairen will bear witness to her father’s perfidy. Send a messenger to intercept the earl’s party. You didna ken I’d already wed. I’m sure there are many who would gladly wed the lass. No harm has been done.”
“Nay. Things will go forward as I have planned. How will we look to King James? We have destroyed our neighbors to the east, and now we break our word to our neighbors to the north? Talk to Alethia, Malcolm. She’s a canny lass. She’ll come to terms with the arrangement. ’Tis best for all.”
“I am sorry, Father.” Malcolm could think of only one solution. He straightened himself to his full height and faced William with determination. “We are at an impasse, for I will no’ break the vows I made to Alethia. I would rather renounce my inheritance. I’ll take my wife across the ocean where we will live with her people. I will no’ forsake her. She is my wife.” He glared at his father. “I will have no other.”
Alethia had followed Malcolm and his father, determined to eavesdrop on their conversation. She covered her mouth to stifle the sob threatening to break free as she heard Malcolm swear to give up his future for her. She heard a gasp from across the corridor. Peering around the corner toward the stairs, she caught Elaine’s eye. Her friend motioned for quiet and held out her hand. She hurried to take it. Elaine hustled her along the hall to her chamber and pushed her through the door, slamming it behind them.
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 27