Mairi almost grinned at Arabella and Nora’s careful consideration of her feelings. She was grateful to call the two women her closest friends. Within the last year, the three of them forged a strong kinship, confiding their hopes, secrets and even their worries with one another. ’Twas an unbreakable bond she valued more than a coffer full of gold and jewels combined. In truth, if not for the pair, she might have allowed herself to sink deeper into a mire of melancholy and despair at times. With a sigh, she sank back in her chair and viewed the familiar jovial scene before her.
At the far end of the hall, a roaring fire blazed in the hearth, staving off the frigid chill from the bitter, chilling winter outside the keep. Throughout the large chamber, many of the clan dined in the inviting warmth, filling their bellies with hot fare. To Mairi’s right, Arabella nestled Cormac in her arms while Calum grinned at his son and tapped his wee nose, pulling a peal of laughter from the little lad. The day Cormac entered the world, kicking and screaming loud enough to raise the dead, Calum had never been as proud. Her brother practically melted at the sight of his firstborn.
Seated opposite of Mairi, Liam leaned in close to place a hand over Nora’s distended belly and whisper in his wife’s ear. A brilliant smile blossomed over the heavily-carrying woman’s countenance—an increasingly common occurrence since the pair wed late last spring. A fact Liam would solely acknowledge as his doing. Mayhap, her cousin was right. He’d fallen into the roles of husband and laird with ease, while Nora stood confidently by his side, offering unyielding love and support. Any day now, the mismatched pair would welcome their first child.
Alas, each time Mairi viewed the loving exchanges between her kin, a pang of envy struck a chord deep within her, promptly followed by an unsettling twinge of guilt for her selfishness. Truth be told, she was delighted that Calum and Liam had found devoted wives, whom they adored, and started their own families. The men of her family deserved naught less than sheer happiness.
Even her Aunt Elena and Hamish Fraser had somehow managed to mend the jagged rift which separated the two for almost a score and ten years. Yet, despite how pleased Mairi was for her kin, an unbidden shock of jealousy beleaguered her at times. Unwavering love closed in around her, choking her with an unshakeable need.
She yearned for a family of her own with a man who would love her without condition, but the likelihood seemed impossible, especially as she grew older. The chance of stumbling upon the same manner of happiness as her beloved family slipped further out of grasp with each passing day. Nearing an advanced age of a score and two, her prospects of securing a love match were lacking to say the least.
Frowning at the earthen bowl in front of her, Mairi plunked her spoon in the uneaten porridge before shoving the fare aside. ’Twas not as if she’d truly had any prospects to begin with. Not with Calum for a brother and Liam as a cousin. She appreciated her kin’s efforts to protect her against unwelcome suitors, but the two had a habit of frightening away the handful of males who’d actually taken a genuine interest in her over the years.
With so few options, she was left with two choices—spend her days surrounded by amorous couples, alone and drowning in self-pity, or she could settle and hope for the best, which was precisely what she’d chosen.
A strong, masculine hand covered her fidgeting fingers, and she darted a glance to her left.
“All is well?” Patrick MacEwan’s sharp, green gaze searched her face as a playful grin lifted his cheeks.
For a long moment, she studied his handsome features. Fair-haired with a straight nose, broad jaw and teasing smile, the MacEwan laird bore a striking countenance that would snare any lass’s attention—any lass but her, it would seem.
Proffering a false grin, she extricated her hand from beneath his. “Aye, naught to worry over.”
’Twas difficult to remember her manners at times where Patrick was concerned. To imagine she’d agreed to wed the man.
In late autumn, he’d approached her with the subject of marriage. In a rather forthright manner, he explained that the elders of his clan urged him to wed for the sake of heirs, but he’d yet to find a suitable match. As a longtime ally of the MacGregors and close friend of her brother’s, Patrick reasoned his and her mutual respect of each other would strengthen their clans’ ties and lead to a successful union between the two of them. One that would remedy both of their troubles—his lack of heirs and the burden her unwedded state placed on her brother.
As sharp as an axe, his ingenuous words cleaved her pride in two. No matter that she’d never in her life harbored a tender sentiment toward the man, his offer of convenience stung just the same. Months later, Mairi still could not fathom why she’d agreed to the halfhearted match. Mayhap, ’twas a bit of desperation on her part to not remain in the very circumstance Patrick had spoken of—a burden to her family.
Irritated with her absence of a backbone, she rose from her seat, scraping the chair legs over the stone floor. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I shall take in a bit of fresh air.”
“In this weather?” her brother exclaimed as he sprang forward in his seat. “There’s a storm brewing. ’Tis not wise to be out of doors. I do not think—”
“I shall not be long, Calum. No need to fret. I shall not travel far.” A long walk was just what Mairi needed to clear her mind from wandering to a dark, bleak corner she’d rather not visit.
“I shall accompany you, if you wish.” Patrick pushed his chair back to rise, but she placed a firm hand on the breadth of his shoulder.
“Nay,” she blurted in a near shout, regretting the telling action at once. Affixing a smile, she squeezed his thick arm and lowered her voice. “I merely wish a bit of solitude, but thank you for the offer, my lord.”
Calum opened his mouth to no doubt launch into a new argument, but Arabella leaned into his side and whispered in his ear, silencing his complaint.
With a grudging scowl, he grunted his displeasure. “Fine, but you’d better bundle up. ’Tis damned cold out. And if you’re not back soon, I’m sending someone after you. You do not wish to be caught out of doors in this mess.”
Exasperated by her brother’s ceaseless, overprotective nature, she rolled her eyes, though a genuine grin tugged at her lips. Bending closer to Arabella, she winked at her friend and placed a kiss on Cormac’s plump cheek while she ran her fingers over his bright red tufts of hair.
Eager to make her escape, Mairi ignored the inquisitive eyes around the high table and fled the great hall as fast as her legs would carry her. She snatched her fur-lined winter cloak from the alcove in the passageway near the stairs. Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to don her thick, padded boots and warm clothing that morn. Slipping her hands into the gloves Liam had given her, she wrapped a length of tartan wool around the lower half of her face and head before raising her hood. Once bundled against the biting winter wind, she slipped outside the keep’s front doors, nodding at the two guards posted inside as she passed.
Pausing along the top of the stone steps, she sucked in a deep pull of frosty air. Despite the fabric shielding her face, the chill burned inside her nostrils straight down to her lungs. While others balked at the blustery, frigid conditions, Mairi welcomed the last icy grip of winter. Too soon, the arrival of spring would take hold, drawing her closer to the date of her upcoming nuptials.
A desolate blanket of frost stretched over the land as far as the eye could see. Snowfall coated the earth and dwellings throughout the village, adding a silvery luster to the otherwise obscure day. From the look of the low-lying billows of gray growing on the horizon, Calum was right. A storm was brewing. One that would bring heavy flurries and leave her stranded inside within close proximity of her intended groom for days. She cringed at the thought.
Careful not to slip on the ice-covered steps, she took her time descending the stairs and crossed the courtyard. Snow crunched beneath her booted feet as she made her way toward the village outside the bailey’s walls. Streams of smoke rose from
the small chimneys constructed alongside each of the thatch-roofed cottages in the village, while every window opening had been packed with furs and the shutters closed to stave off the brunt of the cold weather. Many of the clan had sagely chosen to remain indoors, warm and sheltered from the coming storm, as Mairi ambled through the vacant village. Every few steps through the snow, white clouds puffed out of her with each breath.
On the edge of the settlement near the surrounding forest, she paused on the bank of the loch that had frozen over a fortnight ago. With the sun hidden behind storm clouds, the dense wood beyond radiated such a gloomy, ominous darkness—much akin to her mood as of late.
As often as she could manage to slip away, Mairi retreated to the solitude of the ice-covered pool. ’Twas odd, but the smooth, reflective surface soothed something inside her—a wee, ridiculous part that continued to pine for him.
Aaron MacRae.
’Twas a name she could not dislodge from her mind. For more than a year, she’d tried in vain to forget Aaron, but the unforgettable image of him standing stoically alongside his brother on the shore with the raging sea was seared in her head. Mayhap, the vision would always remain with her, at least until she passed on from this life. She snorted to herself. With her accursed luck, the haunting image would most likely follow her into the next life.
There was simply something about the man. Something she could not quite explain. Mayhap ’twas because, unlike others in her acquaintance, he’d chosen to peer beneath the surface and discovered another side of her other men had failed to notice. Cursed with a bold nature, she spoke her mind more than most women. Unsure which was worse, men either mistook her for a wanton, or an untamable shrew, due to her sharp tongue. Though Aaron had no doubt taken notice of the faults of her character, he’d treated her with respect. At least, until fate threw them together in circumstances out of their control.
Snow drifted from the gray clouds and fluttered across the frozen loch to gather on the bank with such little effort. Why, in God’s name, could she not shake the memory of Aaron MacRae from her mind as easily?
He consumed far too many waking moments of her life. Not even her dreams spared her. Somehow, he’d found his way into them, too. She silently cursed her foolishness, just as she did each time thoughts of the blasted man arose in her mind.
Saints, what was the matter with her?
Mairi huffed a long, deflated sigh and a white cloud lingered in front of her face before dissipating. Would it please her kin to see her married off? Was she such a burden on her family? Mayhap, they might enjoy a moment’s peace without her interfering mischief. Poor Calum. He truly had the patience of a saint with her. Well, most of the time, when his big head did not get in the way.
Since the day she’d struck an agreement with Patrick, naught but doubt inhabited her mind. She glanced down at the lump of snow she toed with her boot. What would her brother say if she confided she had no desire to marry his friend? ’Twas truth the notion of wedding Patrick MacEwan filled her with overwhelming dread.
How could she bring herself to wed one man when she’d more than likely spend the rest of her days wishing she’d married another?
A twig snapped deep in the darkness of the forest, followed by the heavy crunch of snow, which yanked her from the morose thoughts. For a stuttered moment, shards of panic prickled the length of her spine and her pulse leaped in her throat. More than a year had passed since Aaron had stolen her and Arabella away at the behest of the English cur, Geoffrey Longford. Though the threat of Longford no longer remained, Mairi could not help but recall the genuine fear that had consumed her that unfortunate day.
Rooted to the frozen earth, she searched the surrounding trees. Wind howled through the pine boughs. Aside from swaying, snow-covered tree limbs, naught stirred in the wood beyond the loch. Gripped with unease, she pivoted to head back toward the village and make her way toward the safety of the keep’s walls.
Another distinct crack of splintering wood sent her heart stuttering over several beats, and she slammed to a halt, her body freezing in place. Apprehensive, she peered over her shoulder and scanned the tree line, wishing her gaze could penetrate the shaded forest. She’d almost convinced herself the sound was merely an animal or the wind, until a lone rider bundled in furs and muted tartan from head to boots on a massive, thick-boned mount burst from the shadowed wood.
Startled, Mairi stood in stunned silence before she managed to force her legs into motion. Not again pounded through her rampant mind. Scrambling to run, she tripped over her boots and tumbled to her knees, the snow crunching beneath her.
As quick as she fell, she was on her feet again, running in earnest for the village. The settlement within sight, she tugged at the wool tartan over her mouth and a shrill scream tore from her throat, echoing through the frigid silence of winter. Alas, she was unable to outrun the pounding hoof beats behind her.
A strong arm snagged her around the chest and hoisted her in front of him. The rider slapped a hand over her mouth to cut off her outraged shout. She bit down, her teeth sinking into her captor’s glove. He hissed out a muffled curse and yanked a fur over her head and upper body, stalling her movements. Fear bolted through her limbs for only a flicker of a moment. Determined to fight, she thrashed against the solid frame restraining her. His thick arm squeezed against her stomach.
“Stop wiggling. You’re going to make us both fall,” a deep voice growled near her ear.
A healthy measure of alarm and confusion hurtled through her. The horse’s gait gained speed, or she might’ve found a way to throw herself from atop the saddle. Of course, she’d more than likely injure a limb. Howbeit, a broken ankle or arm was preferable than being kidnapped. Not one to concede defeat, she maneuvered her arm until she had enough room to repeatedly jab an elbow in the fiend’s ribs.
He grunted. “For Christ’s sake, stop. I’ve no wish to hurt you, Lady Mairi.”
The use of her name gave her pause. A ridiculous notion filtered through her reeling mind. That voice…surely, it could not be.
Almost afraid to speak, she croaked out, “Aaron?”
Tugging the fur from her head, he brought his mount to a halt within the safety of the forest. He yanked the wool covering from his mouth and immediate recognition hit her like a slap to the face.
“Connor?”
An uneasy smile lifted the young man’s lips. “’Tis good to see you, too, Lady Mairi.”
Saints, the lad had surely grown into his lanky frame since she’d seen him last. The youth she remembered had sprouted into a rather large, handsome young man who immensely favored his brother. A swift wave of relief quashed her panic, only to be replaced with a swell of anger.
“What the devil are you doing?” she demanded with a scowl. “You’re as blasted mad as your brother.”
A hint of desperation hung from his features. “Aaron needs you.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Nay, he needs a swift kick to the—”
“He’s dying.”
Air whooshed from her lungs in a noisy rush.
“What?” The word left her mouth in a breathless whisper.
“He burns with fever. The clan healer does not expect him to survive.” His dark gaze shifted over her head to the village barely visible through the pine boughs. “He calls for you, Mairi.”
If that did not rob her of speech, naught else would. The man she’d thought of only moments before lay on his sickbed, dying?
A sharp sting of pain pricked her chest. For the last year, she’d clung to the irrational hope Aaron might someday come for her. The realization that the strong, honorable man she’d pined for, day after day, might soon depart this life nearly rent her heart in two. She opened her mouth to speak, but emotion clogged her throat, making the feat impossible.
Connor’s gaze beseeched her. “I implore you, please. At least give him this small measure of peace before he…”
What the young man left unsaid shook Mairi
to the core. Her mind spinning, she bit the inside of her cheek. The salty tang of blood filled her mouth. Holy Mother, did Connor have any notion what he asked of her? To steal away with him, without speaking to her kin, to visit a man her brother had expressly forbidden her from seeing?
She dared not…did she?
Was she truly considering the rash request? Oh Saints, she was.
“I cannot simply leave without word. I must speak to my family.”
Even as she spoke the words, she knew in her heart ’twas impossible. How the devil could she tell her family—and intended groom—of her plans to hie away with the enemy? Another notion struck.
“Christ, we’ll soon be snowed under, Connor.”
“Nay, trust me. We shall outrun the storm, but we must leave now. You cannot tell Laird MacGregor. You know he’d never permit you.” He huffed a frustrated sigh, his brows tugging low. “For Christ’s sake, I’ve lingered in these woods for two days, waiting for you to stray from inside the keep. In the time I’ve wasted, my brother might’ve…”
Guilt pummeled her from all directions. Conflicted, she chewed on her bottom lip as she considered the impossible request. Saints, she should tell Calum, but he’d forbid her in a blink of an eye. No doubt, he’d likely not appreciate Connor showing his face on MacGregor lands. Somehow, she suspected the young man might receive an extended stay in the dungeons, while she anticipated a lengthy, imposed sojourn in her bedchamber.
But, what of Aaron?
How could she live with herself without seeing him one final time? For the rest of her life, she would dwell beneath the weight of regret. Damnation, was there ever truly a chance of her refusing Connor?
“Come, Lady Mairi. I must have an answer,” he prodded.
Saints, she’d lost what was left of her ever-loving mind.
Surrendering to the tumultuous pull of her emotions, she expelled a shaky breath. “All right. But, you must bring me home once I’ve seen him.”
Reckless Scotland: A Scottish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 122