by Zarik
“Of course.” Tsarina mumbled quietly. “So, what am I to do today?”
“Nothing much, Tsarina. Ye’re soon to be mistress of the keep. Izzy has been overseeing the keep for years, since the passing of my wife. I see no real reason for that to change. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk in the garden or stitch as you wish? There is shopping, of course. Ye do need some of yer own clothing. Ye may not enjoy simply wearing hand me downs.” Niall looked at the pale pink gown Tsarina wore. He remembered it on his wife and was pleased it was being used again. Tsarina was every bit as beautiful as Zarik’s mom had been. He just wished his son would offer all the new clothing and materials they had purchased for her. In the meantime, he saw no reason to not indulge her and let her shop.
“Oh, thank you for allowing me the use of your wife’s clothing. I appreciate it. I told Igrid I had several items of my own to wear, but she’d not allow it.”
“Yer clothes aren’t meant for here, my dear. I like seeing my wife’s clothing on ye. She’d be pleased that ye were to be her daughter.” Niall cast a genuine smile her way. “Ye should throw them away. The clothing ye brought with ye. I promise ye, ye won’t be needing them.”
“Perhaps Zarik could take her shopping tomorrow?” Argus looked innocently between Niall and Tsarina.
“That would be a splendid idea. I’ll speak to him this evening. He’s already long left for the training fields. I had thought with ye here, he might slow down on it some. But he was gone even earlier this morning. Grabbing some food in his hand and eating it on his way out the door. We’ll just have to get the two of ye together more.” Niall wanted them married already. Tsarina was lovely and perfect for his son. Someone he could be proud to have as his wife when he was Laird.
“I don’t want to become a burden he doesn’t want, my Lord.” Tsarina decided she needed to get these titles down before they thought her stupid. The looks she got from others in the house were bad enough. She didn’t need to add to it by being disrespectful.
“Now, none of that. I’m Niall and he’s Argus.” Niall pointed to the other man. “There’s no need for formality, unless ye’d like to call me Da. That would be acceptable.” His eyes twinkled. “I have no daughters of my own. Only sons. And none of my sons have married. It would be nice to have a daughter.”
Tsarina smiled nervously, unsure how to politely answer. So, she simply thanked them. Soon enough she was done eating and off to explore more of the keep. The library was magnificent and she ended up spending her day there. She was stunned when Igrid told her it was time to ready for dinner. She’d not even noticed she skipped lunch.
****
Day turned into weeks and weeks into months. Tsarina fell into a routine. It became boring as the weather got worse. She was unable to really be outside. It was freezing. There was plenty of snow and the loch had frozen over. While a truly beautiful sight, it wasn't one she wanted to be out in.
Zarik continued to act as though she didn’t exist. He’d walk her to her room each night, simply to keep anyone else from doing it, kiss her hand and bid her sleep well.
Michealmas was upon them in no time at all and she looked forward to her first celebration. She knew it was different from her traditional Christmas and could barely wait. Niall and Argus were thrilled at her childlike enthusiasm and egged it on. She'd only read about it before. Now she was going to gain the opportunity to be involved in it. To see how it really was done. Would all the research books be correct? Even if they weren't, would she ever have the chance to set them straight?
Tsarina couldn’t believe she’d been in Scotland for almost a year. Samhain was again right around the corner and it would mark her one year anniversary in the past. She was surprised there wasn’t much she missed from her old life. Sure, a razor would be nice, not a knife used as one, a real razor with aloe on it for smooth skin. And going places in carts pulled by horses was rather bumpy as well. She still hadn't mastered how to ride a horse on her own. Those animals seemed to hate her.
“Tsarina?” A knock on the door and Niall’s voice came strong through it.
“I’m in here, open the door. It’s not locked.” Tsarina was learning to love her time with the man. She imagined he must have been wonderful to his wife. He was looking tired, though. Niall made her think of her father often. The memories were good for her. As was feeling as though she had a father again.
‘Tsarina, it’s long pass the time ye and Zarik should be together. We’ve been patient and tried to allow things to ease themselves to where they need to be. But, he’s not making any moves and he’s going to kill himself with all the hours of extra training just to avoid ye. It’s time for ye to make yer move, lass.” Niall sat in the chair he had pulled from the fire.
“I…me? What would I do? He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me. He avoids me. I can't force him to like me.” Tsarina wrung her hands in her skirts.
“Seduce him, lass. Ye ken how. I saw the clothing ye wore when ye arrived. I’ve sent a messenger to the mender and she’ll be here in a few hours to make a few nighttime items for ye.” Niall’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Only night clothing and take her advice my dear. She’s been told to make ye the bridal bedding wear as well as something that may seduce my son to lose his wits and bed ye before marrying ye. Then his honor will demand he asks for yer hand.”
“You want me to trap him? And, the clothing I arrived wearing were not clothing of a whore. They are common for most every woman in my time.” Tsarina couldn’t believe her ears. She wasn't sure if she should feel insulted that he implied she was a whore or if she should worry more about him wanting her to trap his own son. A mother in her time might just scratch out someone's eyeballs for that. Besides, he'd hate her even more if he ever suspected she was tricking him.
“My apologies. I didnae mean to make it sound as though yer clothing made me doubt yer character. For Zarik, I’d not call it trap, but ye may use any words that ye prefer. So, yes. Trap. That’s exactly what ye must do. I want ye married in the next couple of months and with child long before the next Michealmas. I want to retire as Laird and I cannot pass it to Zarik until he is wed. Will ye do it for me, lass?”
Niall looked so hopeful. Tsarina really hated to disappoint him. “Your son is three times my size. I won’t be able to get him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. I’d love to help you, as it’s the reason I’m told I was sent here, but I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do but wait for him to want to speak to me. He’s no desire for marriage, children, or love. He's made it clear in his cold behavior. It hasn't wavered one bit over the months.”
“He just doesn’t ken he wants it. I guess we’ll have to come up with something else then. Keep yer appointment for yer fittings. You’ll still be in need of them. My wife said it was always nice to feel pretty and have something new.” Niall walked out and left Tsarina thinking of how different things might be if Zarik were capable of love.
“You could just send me home.” Tsarina knew he heard the words she had spoken, though he made no turn to acknowledge her.
****
Tsarina dreaded her walk down the stairs for dinner. Each night she had to sit next to Zarik. They tried not to rub against one another, but it was near to impossible. Every time they touched, it was like tinder to an open flame. She wanted to explode. Was Tsarina the only one feeling this? Did their touch not ignite him as it did her? After almost a year, she was losing hope.
Perhaps it was because she was older than him. She was twenty-five and he was barely twenty. It wasn’t too common for the woman to be an old maid while the man was young.
Before desert came out, Niall cleared his throat and stood. The man was relatively silent at dinner, so this had to be important. Battles had been ceasing over the last six months, so Tsarina hoped that wasn’t about to change.
“Michealmas is almost upon us and I’d like to make Tsarina’s first, here with us,” Niall cleared his throat to catch his almost mistake. “A splendid
one. As many of ye have heard rumors over the last months, Tsarina is to be the bride of my son, Zarik. I’ve patiently waited for him to announce it to his clan, and as he’s not done so as of yet, I now announce on his behalf.” Silence fell across the hall and Zarik almost choked on his ale. “Congratulation, Zarik and Tsarina. Here’s to many sons and taking over my position as Laird after yer wedding.” Again, Zarik choked, seemingly on air this time.
“Father, I dinnae want to be Laird and we need to further discuss this wedding. Don’t ye agree, Tsarina?”
Tsarina smiled at Niall and shrugged at Zarik. “Do we not have to honor his wishes? After all, Drostan told me that the husband and wife generally have little say in who they marry. I suppose it could be worse.” Tsarina watched the red color Zarik’s face and thought he might burst with anger. She’d not go against Niall; he’d given her a place to stay, clothing, food, and a family for months. Tsarina was indebted to the man.
Shaking his head, Zarik stood. “Now she decides to be agreeable. I think Tsarina will have desert brought up to her tonight. I need to speak with my father, alone, and then she and I have a few matters to discuss. But one thing is for certain, there will no be a wedding.”
Tsarina began to protest, she would not be told when she was going to bed. But, a shake of Zarik’s head and the look on his face convinced her she’d be better off agreeing and saving the fight for another day. It was clear; she’d not win this one.
She bid her goodnights to Niall and Argus and couldn’t help the embarrassment that came over her at Zarik’s public rejection of her. The red still burned across her face. Almost his entire clan was here this evening. Tsarina noted several looks of sympathy and more than a couple head shakes as she allowed Zarik to lead her from the room. The whispers? Well, those she simply tried to ignore. After all, they weren't that new. Someone always seemed to be gossiping behind her back.
At her door, when Zarik went to kiss her hand, she jerked it away from his. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, my lord. There's no need to bear the hardship of kissing my hand when you've made it clear to everyone in your clan your dislike for me. Goodnight.” The door slamming in his face made her smile even though she’d love to see the look that was actually on his face. Tsarina had been nothing but polite to him since her arrival and he still treated her like dirt. It was time for her to stand her ground. Maybe, at the least, it would convince Argus to help send her back to her real home.
“I’ll be back up to speak with ye shortly.” He seethed through the door.
Tsarina could hear the anger in his voice, but it didn’t make her change her reply. “Don’t bother. We don’t have anything to speak of since there’s to be no wedding, unless you can get them to send me back to my real home. Besides, it wouldn’t be proper for you to be in my chamber.” Feeling rather childish, she stomped off to sit in one of the chairs by her fire. Igrid was wonderful about having it lit, although the smart girl had chosen this moment to disappear. Tsarina couldn’t blame her. She was in a foul mood.
****
Zarik stomped his way back down the stairs and to the fire in the hall where Argus and Niall were waiting for him. Tsarina could infuriate him. He was always calm, as you had to be to keep your head attached to your shoulders in battle. But she undid him. Marry her? She’d likely cut his heart out in his sleep. He couldn't trust himself around her. She seemed to be able to drive him into a rage in an instant. Zarik feared he'd hurt her one day, without meaning to.
Sleep. Zarik would much rather ravish her than sleep with her. But, he wouldn’t be letting anyone else know that. There were many nights he awoke from dreams that had her in them and him having his way with her. It was one of the reasons he trained before sun up and stayed out doing it until time for dinner.
“Father, have ye lost yer mind? I’ve barely had ten minutes of conversation with the lass since she got here. I won’t marry her.”
“That was yer choosing. Argus told ye she was the one meant for ye. Ye chose to not get to know her, not us. We’ve spent considerable time with her and have grown to love her. We've told ye to get to know her as well.”
“I won’t marry her.”
“So be it. But ye will marry. I grow tired of clan obligations. Perhaps I’ll look for a lass of my own. But, in the meantime, ye will marry someone. I don’t really care who it is. We have enough wealth and land and ye don’t need the dowry. So, whomever ye choose, so long as she can give ye sons, is fine with me.” Niall gave a wave of his arm to show his lack of concern.
“No, he has to marry Tsarina.” Argus about fell he jumped so quickly from his chair. “It’s meant to be. It has to be.”
“I won’t marry at all.” Zarik was losing what little patience he had left.
“Do ye realize how ye made the lass look tonight, lad?” Argus asked his voice clear with contempt. “Ye embarrassed her in front of everyone. Yer father set the betrothal that ye didnae have the bullocks to announce on yer own and ye cast her aside like some lass ye paid for a night of spreading her thighs. We love the lass. Ye would too if ye weren’t so afraid to.”
“Aye, ye did make her look quite the fool, Zarik.” Niall shook his head. He and Argus had spoken at length about his son’s fear of love and weakness. He thought he would have matured by now. However, the fact remained, Zarik would have to marry to become Laird and it couldn’t happen soon enough. At this point, it was time to let fate take over and just get him married to someone. “There may be no way to redeem yerself with her now.”
As Zarik went to speak, his father and Argus got up to leave the hall. “Where are the two of ye going? I thought we were discussing this.”
“Nay, lad. We’ve said what ye need to hear and I even tried to set things up for ye to marry Tsarina by my command. The mess ye’ve made is now yers to clean up. Marry the lass or marry another. I dinnae care anymore. Just have done with it.” With that said Niall shook his head and walked toward the stairs, Argus following behind.
“Aye, many thanks to ye both for pushing me with ultimatums. It is not enough that I make sure yer battles are won? Nay, I must marry. I must become Laird. And I must marry who ye see fit for me. Never mind of what I want. Battles, I win yer battles and keep the MacKinnon’s protected and fed.” Zarik’s voice loudly carried through the empty hall. He had no doubt the men heard him, but neither acknowledged him.
Zarik called for the serving maid to bring him some ale as he slammed down a glass of mead. He needed something to clear his head. Being Laird meant spending the rest of his life being told what to do. It also meant he could no longer be captain of the guard. A duty he preferred to all else. His father was healthy. Why the hurry to hand the clan over to him? He didn’t believe for one second that his father would remarry, even though he should. He had been too in love with his mother.
He drank mead, he paced the hall, then he drank some ale and then went back to mead, and he paced the great hall more. It was a good thing Zarik had always been able to hold his drink. One question kept coming back to the front of his mind; no matter how much he passed or how many cups he drank. What was he going to do about the dishonor he had caused Tsarina? He shouldn’t care, but all Highlanders were taught to protect and care for women and he’d just allowed her to be made a fool of. What’s worse? He caused it.
****
Zarik worked his way up the stairs, knowing he and Tsarina had some business to settle. It was late and everyone had long gone to bed. So there was no chance of anyone seeing him enter or leave her chamber tonight. And the privacy was what they needed.
He knocked lightly on her door hoping she’d be in a better mood and let him in.
“Who is it?” Tsarina’s voice sounded bothered rather than sleepy, so he was certain he hadn’t awakened her.
“It’s Zarik; we need to have that talk now.”
“I already told you, there’s nothing to discuss and you’re most certainly not doing it at night and in my bedroom.”
Za
rik chuckled at her term. Bedroom. She had such an odd way of saying things sometimes. He would almost believe she and Argus were telling the truth about her being from a different time. If it were possible.
“Lass, let me in or I’ll come in without an invite.” Perhaps the grand entrance was exactly what he needed to calm the temper that seemed to rage within him whenever she was near.
Tsarina couldn’t believe it. His voice was filled with humor. “It’s locked, Zarik. You can’t. Know go on to bed before you wake everyone up.”
Zarik loved how his name sounded on her lips. He would soon hear her saying it often. He wondered if she realized she'd actually called him his name rather than my lord. In any case, there were marital duties that would be certain to cause his name to escape from her lips often. Zarik thought that was about the only perk to being married. Though he couldn't decide why she was the only lass he considered. His father had said any lass. “Do ye think that lock will stop me?”
Tsarina looked at the door. It was about twelve inches thick, solid wood. Not like the generic doors from her time that she could probably break herself if she wanted to. The hinges were strong and thick. The lock, that was even stronger from the looks of it.
“Ye do ken ye were placed in the chamber that is to be for my wife?” Zarik continued on, not awaiting her response. “There is an attached door leading to mine. One of the cabinets for yer clothing is in front of it.”
Tsarina took inventory of her room. The cabinets were all large and extremely heavy. No one could push a door open with that in front of it. Besides, the door would likely be locked since Zarik had never been married. Wouldn’t it?
“I could have visited ye in yer sleep at any time over the past months. Luckily for ye, I'm more honorable than ye believe me to be. So, what do ye say? Unlock the door?”
“No. Goodnight, Zarik.” Tsarina walked back over to her bed and threw herself in the center of it, on her back.
“Verra well then, lass. As ye wish.”