The Marriage Contract

by Cathy Maxwell

  “Here’s ale for you, Tiebauld,” Deacon said, offering a foaming tankard. “And here is our first toast. To Laird Tiebauld of Clan Dunblack. He has returned the clan to its proud former glory!”

  His words were quickly hailed and seconded, but Aidan didn’t acknowledge them. Instead, he started for the side door leading to the kitchen walkway, the flaming torch held high in one hand.

  “Where are you going, Tiebauld?” Deacon asked, each fist holding a full tankard.

  “To destroy the gunpowder,” Aidan answered, and walked out the door.

  It took a moment for his words to sink in, and when they did, Deacon was the first to react. “Are you mad, Tiebauld? You can’t do it!” he shouted, but there was no answer. Aidan had already left.

  With a strong oath, Deacon tossed aside the tankards. He started after Aidan, slowing his step long enough to look at Anne. “It’s your fault,” he told her. “From the moment I clapped eyes on you, I knew you would do what you could to destroy him.” He raced out of the room after her husband.

  Everyone else stood rooted in stunned silence, except for Anne. She understood. She knew what Aidan was about to do and she would help him.

  Lifting her skirts, she ran after the two men, only steps behind Deacon. The others followed.

  Aidan made his way along the rocky path, heading for the cave. The torch’s flames danced and flapped in the strong wind off the water.

  As he skirted the edge of the beach, Deacon caught up with him. He grabbed Aidan’s arm and swung him around. Anne was not far behind. She stopped. Up above her, along the cliff path were all the others—Fang, Hugh, the clan.

  “Tiebauld, what is the matter with you?” Deacon shouted.

  Aidan wanted him to understand. “War isn’t the answer. It will destroy us all.”

  “We are already being destroyed,” Deacon retorted. “The Clearances are costing people their homes. Taxes and laws eat away at us. If we, the highlanders”—he thumped his chest for emphasis—“are to survive, we must fight back.”

  “You can’t win, Deacon, not this way.”

  “Of course we can win!” Deacon shouted, gesturing wildly. “Look at what you’ve done! You single-handedly walked into an armed English camp and rescued Robbie. If you can do that, Tiebauld, then with an army of loyal Scotsmen behind you, you can defeat the English. You can run them all the way back to London just as the great Donner Black did! It’s in your blood.”

  “Deacon, England is the strongest country in the world. She will crush us, just as she did at Culloden. But this time, her vengeance will be a hundred times more terrible than it was in ’45. There will be nothing left.”

  If he had hoped Deacon would listen to reason, he was disappointed. His friend’s eyes burned with righteous pride. He caught a glimpse of Anne from the corner of his eye and pointed at her. “You would not desert us—not on your own. It is her, she has weakened you.”

  “No,” Aidan answered. “You told me yourself, I must choose. In the last twenty-four hours, I have killed two men. I will kill no more.” He dashed up the rocky trail toward the cave. Argument was futile. The time had come for action.

  He’d made it halfway to the cave before Deacon yanked him back. “I can’t let you do it, Tiebauld. Robbie and I have worked too hard for this.” He knocked the torch out of Aidan’s hand.

  But Aidan was taller, stronger. He easily pushed Deacon aside and lunged for the torch wedged against a rock. He picked it up and had gone four steps when Deacon called out, “Tiebauld! Halt, or I’ll slit your wife’s throat.”

  Aidan froze. Slowly, he turned. Deacon held Anne captive, the honed blade of his knife pressing into the tender skin of her neck. A bead of blood appeared.

  The people of Kelwin were stretched out behind them. Some were on the beach. Others had climbed the rocks for a better view of what was happening.

  All were soberly silent.

  Aidan lifted his hand, palm out. “Deacon, no. You mustn’t hurt Anne. She is an innocent.”

  “You were on our side before she appeared,” Deacon told him roundly. “Don’t think of her as guiltless. She has hobbled you, man. She’s taken away your fire.”

  “She’s my life,” Aidan said quietly. “If you hurt her, then you hurt me.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Deacon said. “We’re friends, cousins. But I can’t let you destroy the gunpowder—”

  Anne interrupted him, her clear voice carrying so all could hear, “Aidan, destroy the gunpowder. Destroy all of it. It’s the only way.”

  “Shut up,” Deacon ordered.

  Suddenly, a child screamed. It was Marie, Cora’s niece, who stood with several other children on an outcrop of rocks. Her eyes wide with fright, she cried to Deacon, “Don’t hurt my lady!” When he didn’t move, she turned to Cora, who was already hurrying up from the beach to reach her. “Do something, Cora! He’s going to hurt my lady!”

  Cora quickly swept the weeping child up in her arms. “Deacon, let Lady Tiebauld go. Please.” When he didn’t move, she pleaded, “For us, Deacon. Please, for us.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “If I do, Robbie and I will have nothing left.”

  “If you kill my lady, it will be murder, Deacon, and I’ll have nothing to do with you. You told me you wanted to be a better man, and yet look at you.”

  “Cora, you don’t understand,” Deacon said.

  “I understand you want something you can’t have. Your land is gone, Deacon. Gone. All that’s left is revenge.”

  “And my pride!” he fired back.

  Cora shook her head. “You can’t build anything on pride.”

  Aidan looked from Cora to Deacon. His gaze met Anne’s. Brave, stubborn Anne. She even smiled at him. “There must be a better way to fight the wrongs done us than war,” he said. “I’m going to explode the gunpowder.”

  “But what of Anne?” Deacon asked.

  “I’ll kill you with bare hands if you hurt one hair on her head.”

  Anne added, “He will, too.”

  Her plucky response startled a laugh out of the onlookers. Aidan grinned with pride. “If you weren’t made to be a laird’s wife, I’ve never met one who is,” he told her.

  “Oh, no,” she countered gamely. “I was meant to be a countess. Now, blow up the gunpowder. And, Marie—?”

  The child in Cora’s arms said in a watery tone, “Yes, my lady?”

  “Have courage.”

  “I love you, Anne,” Aidan said.

  “I love you, Aidan Black,” she echoed as he started up toward the cave.

  He then shouted to those of his clan on the beach and up and down the paths. “Run, all of you. I don’t know what will happen when the gunpowder explodes.” He turned and charged the cave.

  “Tiebauld!” Deacon shouted.

  But Aidan wouldn’t stop. Inside the cave, the roar of the sea echoed in the cavern. He kicked open one of the kegs of gunpowder. The smell of sulfur and salt peter twitched his nostrils. He lifted the broken keg and started back toward the entrance, a trail of black powder behind him.

  Suddenly, the torch was yanked out of his hands. He turned. Deacon.

  For a second, the two men stared at each other. Between them had been many good nights of camaraderie, of laughter, of sharing of dreams, hopes, and plans for the future. If he had a brother, it was this man.

  “Your wife is not harmed,” Deacon said. “I couldn’t hurt Anne. Now go. I’ll set the fire. This way, when Robbie asks who the traitor is, I can say it was me.”

  “Then let me—”

  “No.” Deacon backed away. “Cora makes me think.” He studied a point past Aidan’s shoulder, his words measured. “I don’t know what is right or wrong anymore…but she makes me believe there could be something better. Something more. But I can’t stay here. Not if I do this.”

  “Then let me do it.”

  “No, I need to recover myself. I wouldn’t have hurt Anne.”

  “I know.” Or at least, he
’d hoped.

  Deacon nodded a moment, his mind working other problems. “Robbie will be angry.” He straightened. “But it is my choice.” His gaze met Aidan’s. “Thank you for being my friend, even when I’ve been a fool.”

  Aidan held out his hand and Deacon clasped it. “We’ve both had our moments. Now, listen closely, I don’t know what will happen when it explodes.”

  Deacon grinned grimly, rising to this new challenge with his customary bravado. “Then you’d best be a long way off.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Deacon said, “Go on. We don’t have time to waste.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Aidan accepted the inevitable. “Move quickly once you light the powder.”

  His friend snorted. “That was your plan? Light and run?”

  “Run like the hounds of hell are at your heels,” Aidan corrected ruefully.

  “Well, it sounds like a good plan to me. I’ll give you a count of ten.”

  “Right.”

  Aidan headed for the cave entrance, but Deacon added urgently, “If something does happen, tell Cora I love her. I’ve not said it to her.”

  Aidan turned to his friend. The threat of tears burned his eyes. “You can say it yourself when this is over,” he promised. “Now, don’t forget to run.”

  “Aye, like the hounds of hell.”

  “Maybe faster,” Aidan advised. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He left the cave and began running.

  Behind him, Deacon started the count. “One…two…”

  The clansmen had all left for safe hiding places—save Anne. She waited for him on the beach, shouting his name when she spotted him.

  He swore softly. She had to be the most stubborn woman he’d ever known.

  No wonder he loved her.

  In the next second, the cave exploded and Aidan went flying through the air.

  Chapter 18

  Anne’s ears rang with the force of the explosion. The earth shook. Dirt and rocks flew through the air. She closed her eyes and fell to the beach, covering her head with her arms. Cold sea water washed the shore, covering her outstretched leg and dampening her skirts.

  The explosion echoed along the cliffs, and then all went silent. Not even the ever-present gulls and terns gave a cry.

  Her first thought: she was alive. Was Aidan?

  Anne pushed her hair back from her face and lifted her head. The cave had collapsed and a good portion of the cliff now rested in the water.

  Hindered by her wet skirt, she struggled to her feet. “Aidan!” His name reverberated in the stillness. She’d last seen him running down the cliff trail.

  Now, the trail was gone…and there was no sight of Aidan.

  Fang, Hugh, and the others emerged from hiding. They stared as she did at the havoc the explosion had wrought on the coastline. Fang was the first to arrive at her side. Cora, the second.

  Her throat closed with the pain of grief, Anne said, “I don’t see him. I don’t see either of them.”

  Tears streamed down Cora’s face. Marie reached up to capture her hand. Together they searched for Deacon.

  Fang walked by them. “They are both hearty lads. They made it through.” Neither Anne nor Cora answered him.

  Anne reached for Cora’s free hand, and together the women and child started to climb the rubble of what had once been the trail. Fang followed.

  Then, a man standing on the cliff shouted, “I see a body.”

  Anne feared her heart would stop. She scurried over the rocks in the direction the man was pointing. Hugh joined her with Fenella right behind him. He quickly outdistanced Anne and reached the spot where the man pointed.

  “It’s the laird!” Hugh called over his shoulder. Anne lifted her skirts and climbed the outcropping of rocks where he stood.

  Aidan was regaining consciousness by the time she reached him. Dirt covered him. His face was badly scraped, his clothes torn—and he’d never appeared better to her. She threw her arms around him. “You’re alive,” she repeated over and over.

  His hand took hold of her arm to free him long enough to kiss her—right there in front of everyone. He tasted of dirt, sweat, and Aidan. Wonderful, wonderful Aidan.

  He broke the kiss off, lightly brushing the side of her face with his fingers as he managed a weak smile. “I think I’ve had enough danger to keep me for a while,” he admitted in a voice hoarse from the dust.

  Anne, Fang, and Hugh laughed. Fang liked the comment so much, he shouted it to the others. Tears ran down Anne’s cheeks. She was so happy.

  Aidan said, “Here, Hugh, help me up. I feel as I’ve broken every bone in my body.”

  When he was up and standing on his own, a cheer rose from the people. He was badly bruised, but otherwise uninjured.

  Smiling with relief, Anne turned and saw Cora standing up the hill from them. Her smile faded.

  Aidan asked, “Where’s Deacon?”

  The mood turned suddenly somber. “We don’t know,” Hugh answered.

  Aidan started toward Cora. Anne helped him, taking his arm and putting it over her shoulder. “He can’t be dead, Anne,” he whispered. “I can’t have another life on my soul. Not Deacon’s.”

  She said nothing. She dreaded the worst.

  Slowly Cora faced them. “I can’t find him.” She closed her eyes. “For so long, I couldn’t rid myself of him, and now I don’t think I can live without him.” Marie buried her face in her aunt’s skirts.

  Aidan pulled away from Anne. “He must be here.” He walked past Cora, Hugh and Fang following. They started climbing the rubble, shouting Deacon’s name. The gulls were back. They squawked an answer, hovering in the air above and surveying the damage.

  Anne picked up Marie and placed her arm around Cora. “He’s too stubborn to die,” she said aloud.

  “Aye,” Cora agreed quietly.

  And yet there was no sign of him.

  Aidan stiffly climbed a mound of rocks, the better to see. He called, “Deacon!”

  Marie lifted her small voice to shout Deacon’s name, as worried as any of them.

  “Wait.” Aidan held up a hand, signaling for quiet. “I saw movement. Over there.” He stepped down from the rocks and clambered to a point not far from where he’d stood.

  Then Anne and everyone else noticed what Aidan had seen. A hand in the loosened rock and dirt. The color drained from Cora’s face. She grabbed Anne’s arm.

  Aidan had reached the hand. He fell to his knees and began digging. Hugh and Fang hurried to help. Thomas and his brothers came scurrying down the cliffs to join them.

  Marie wiggled, wanting to be free to help. Cora took the child from Anne and held her close. “Not yet, sweet.” Anne knew Cora feared what the child might see if she got too close.

  “But I want to see Deacon,” the child argued.

  “Wait,” Cora said firmly, and there was something in the way she said the single word to make Marie behave. She put her arms around Cora’s neck.

  Then Aidan shouted. “He’s alive.”

  Aidan and the others shoveled the dirt from Deacon with their bare hands.

  Deacon’s head emerged from the rubble. He drew a wavering breath and released it on a soft moan.

  “Hold on, man,” Aidan said. “We’ll have you out in a few minutes.” He took a moment to brush the dirt from Deacon’s face.

  “Thank you,” was Deacon’s reply, laced with his usual irony. But then, he turned serious. “I can’t feel my legs,” he said, hesitantly.

  The men laboring over him exchanged glances. “Give us a moment,” Fang answered. “There is a fair amount of rock here. Don’t try to move yet.”

  The men worked quickly. At last, Deacon’s torso was free, but a boulder rested on his legs. Fang organized the men to move it.

  Deacon looked to Aidan. “I should have let you light the charge.”

  The quip caught all of them by surprise. Aidan stared into the dirty, sweat-stained face of his friend, knowing he himself didn’t look much bet
ter, and burst into laughter.

  Deacon joined him, and Fang and Hugh. The boys couldn’t. They didn’t understand. But the men did.

  It was sweet to be among the living.

  Deacon nodded to where Anne and Cora stood. “They will think us mad.”

  “We already have the reputation,” Aidan answered.

  “All right, let us move this rock off his legs,” Fang said, taking command. He organized where each would stand, and when he gave a count of three, they put their weight to it. “Careful now. Bring it straight up, else we injure him more.”

  With the number of men helping, they lifted the rock without due difficulty. Deacon grunted in pain. Sweat beaded his brow. “How bad is it?” he asked Fang.

  The older man shook his head. “’Tis a nasty break. We’ll set it, but the laird may want to send for the surgeon in Inverness.”

  “I don’t need a surgeon,” Deacon responded.

  “Would you rather lose your leg?” Aidan countered.

  Deacon waved a hand to Hugh and Thomas. “Here, help me up.”

  They did as he’d requested. His other leg was twisted, but not broken, and he was able to balance himself, although with great pain. Aidan was about to argue over the surgeon again, but Deacon no longer listened to him. Instead, his gaze shifted to focus on Cora. He forced his lips to twist into a smile and was rewarded by Cora’s sob of relief and Marie’s shouting his name.

  “Do you think she’ll have me?” he asked.

  Aidan didn’t need to ask whom he meant. “I think she’d be a fool to let a stubborn rogue like you trail after her.” He met Deacon’s startled look and added, “But she loves you. You’re a lucky man, Deacon Gunn, and you’d better value her love.”

  Funny, but he would not have said those words as little as two weeks ago. Back then, the quality of love held little value to him.

  Now, it signified the world.

  Deacon glanced around at the men who were his friends. “But will she love me if I can’t walk?”

  “You’ll have to ask her,” Aidan answered.

  Deacon drew a deep breath. “Well, come, lads. Take me to her.”