by Raina Wilde
She continued as if she had not heard him. “They took no part in the deception. Of that, I am sure. I believe,” she spoke to all of the men of her clan that were gathered in the hall. “that we have done them a great injustice by breaking our promise of peace. I can only hope,” She turned to Greum’s father, “that we can repair that great misunderstanding.”
“Absolutely not!” her uncle shouted. There was a murmur through the crowd that Donnal would speak to the head of his own clan in such a way. Catríona was taken aback. Surely her uncle had acted as proxy Laird after the death of her father, but it was to Catríona that he was supposed to defer.
“Excuse me?” She replied calmly.
“I’ll not live to see the day you marry one of these beasts, whether your father promised it or not.” Donnal spat on the floor at the Laird’s feet. Deirdre was laughing quietly in the background, her mouth in the shape of an O as she stared back and forth between Catríona and Greum, who, despite Donnal’s efforts, had found each other on their own.
Her head began to spin. “What are you talking about?”
“My brother was going to marry you to one of these monsters, even invited them to the gathering to announce it. That was before they killed him, probably thinking they could take control of the clan through you straight away. But I saw them for what they were, filthy beasts.”
Greum’s arm shot out to hold back Aiden who had lunged forward.
“I’ll die before I see Clan Sutharlainn mix with the MacConaills. Even your mother should have stayed here.” The MacConaill men roared with anger. Catríona hoped they had the presence of mind to remain in their human forms. Her uncle had no idea the danger in which he stood.
A scene from the night of the gathering played across Catríona’s mind. Her father and her uncle arguing in the small chamber. Her uncle, shouting You’ll make that agreement over my dead body. Cat had not thought anything of it at the time, but she now looked at her uncle in an entirely new light.
“You seized control of the clan, after my father’s death.” She whispered. Her head was tilted to the side as she looked at him. “You told my father that he’d make the agreement over your dead body. I did not understand it until now, but what you really meant… was over his.” Pure hatred must have shown on Catríona’s face because as she accused her uncle of her father’s murder, ever sword of Clan Sutharlainn pointed directly at his heart. “You poisoned him, Uncle, didn’t you?”
Donnal grunted, but nothing more.
“If you wanted the clan, why not marry me off?” she wondered aloud. “Why not do away with me the first chance you had?”
“Because the Clan doesn’t follow Donnal, Lady Sutharlain.” Came a voice from the crowd. “We follow you.” A cheer rose from her kinsmen.
“And if I bore a child…” It all made sense now. So long as her uncle kept her as a figurehead, and prevented the birth of an heir, he could rule the Clan without opposition. If she died of old age without a child, the Lairdship would pass to Donnal’s own son, and his after that.
“Death to him!” Her clansmen shouted, but Catríona raised her hand for silence.
“Laird MacConaill.” She turned to address the proud man standing in front of her. “I apologize for my deception and must admit another falsehood.” She pulled the small vial from her pocket. “I brought this for you, and your sons, hoping to avenge the death of my father.” The room was painfully silent. “Upon learning the truth from your children, and your clansmen, I found no need for the poison.” Her eyes turned to Greum as he stared at the vial in her hand. She turned to the crowd at large, her voice strong and sure. “This death was meant for the man who killed my father. It has waited for the moment of justice.” She addressed the Laird and his sons, but her eyes focused solely on Greum. “I apologize, most heartily for believing that you took part in the murder. I ask now, that together we rid ourselves of this evil and begin anew.” She held the vial forward for the Laird to take, which he did.
He opened the vial and held out for a cup. A servant brought one immediately. The MacConaill emptied the vial into the cup and stepped down from the raised platform on which he stood. Without a word, he offered the cup to Donnal, who stood shaking with fear.
“Will no one speak for me?” he growled toward the men who used to defend him.
“A drink, to Clan MacConaill!” shouted a soldier from the midst of the Sutharlainn ranks.
“Cat,” her uncle turned to her with the cup shaking in his hands. “Cat, I raised you…”
“My father should have raised me.” She stared into the cold eyes of her kin. “Take him outside for his drink!” she shouted. “I have no wish to look upon him any longer.” And with that her uncle was dragged off through the crowd to his death.
When she turned back around Laird MacConaill was standing right beside her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You are a strong woman, Lady Catríona. I’m sure you’d like to return home now.” The old man leaned forward and placed a kiss on her brow. “You would have made a wonderful Daughter-in-law.”
“She still might.” Deirdre spoke from Cat’s other side. Catríona raise her eyes to Greum who had likewise approached.
“You were going to poison us?” he looked at her with laughing disbelief. It was clear that her audacity amused them. She was grateful that they were not angry.
“That was before I realized that I had entered the den of bears.” She smiled. Greum pulled her forward and kissed her there, in front of both clans. The entire room erupted with cheers.
“Why is it that the Laird is always the last to know everything?” she heard his father ask.
With a hearty laugh she threw her arms around the man she loved and allowed him to sweep her into the air. Catríona felt an overwhelming happiness that the dreams of her parents, to unite the clans, would finally be a reality. In that moment, she felt as if they were there, beside her.
THE END
Hunting For a Highland Husband
Skye Laramie, the willful young Highlander raised among a clan of bear shifters, has lived her whole life surrounded by men who wander and roam as they wish. Witnessing such freedom, yet never experiencing it herself, Skye wants nothing more than the right to make her own decisions and to construct the life that's right for her.
When her father vows to have the young huntress married as a proper Lady of the Highlands, Skye is granted the opportunity to choose a husband for herself. But when a visit to old friends brings her back into contact with a childhood acquaintance, Skye is forced to confront feelings that she did not know existed.
Aiden MacConaill, easygoing son of the Laird and close friend to Skye’s older brother, doesn’t take long to realize that Skye has grown into a fascinating young woman. But can he accept Skye for who she truly is? And what will it take for Skye to admit that Aiden is her perfect match?
Hunting for a Highland Husband
The doors to the great hall opened, flanking the entrants in a blinding glare of sunlight. Aiden MacConaill squinted against the view. Two burly men strode into the center of the room, a large gilded chest suspended between them. The Laramie crest was emblazoned on the lid alongside the distinctive bear claw of the MacConaill clan. Aiden felt his mouth curve into a half grin. The bonnet Laird Laramie and his family had always been favorites as banner men for Clan MacConaill. Aiden rose to his feet and quickly descended the steps of the dais to grasp hands with the third man who walked through the door.
“It is good to see you, Teirnan.” He clapped the grinning man on the back. Aiden and Teirnan had spent many summers exploring the MacConaill lands as they practiced shifting into their bear forms in their youth. He recalled waiting an entire night in the woods with his friend as the boy tried fruitlessly to return to his human form. It had not been until Teirnan’s younger sister had tromped into the woods in the early hours of the morning to calm her brother with soothing words, that he had been able to complete his transformation.
“We com
e bearing gifts for the newlyweds.” Teirnan spoke in his deep rumbling voice. Sitting together at the head table were Aiden’s elder brother Greum and his wife Lady Catríona. They rose and approached the chest with smiles and words of thanks.
Catríona gasped with pleasure when her husband opened the chest to reveal two beautiful wolf pelts.
“They were taken by our best hunter.” Explained on of the chest-bearers.
“How have they no battle marks?” Greum asked. Aiden looked closer at the pelts. They were unmarred by the telltale scrapes of the bear claw. The pelt was taken in one perfect piece; a sign that the wolves were downed by a bowman rather than beast. Most of the clan’s hunters chose to shift when pursuing their prey. . .
“This hunter is no shifter.” Teirnan smiled. “Though who is the more successful predator between the two is debatable.”
A burst of female laughter rang from over Teirnan’s shoulder. Shuffling through the door came Greum’s twin, Deirdre, arm and arm with a woman that Aiden did not recognize. Deirdre’s smooth raven hair stood in stark contrast to the golden blonde curls that fell past the waist of her companion. Set against the pale blue of her gown, the woman looked ethereal to Aiden’s approving eyes. She must be from Clan Sutharlainn, he concluded. Catríona’s clansmen had been coming and going with regularity since the renewal of peace following the wedding. Aiden had never before seen so many new and exciting faces.
“Teirnan.” Deirdre spoke with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. It was well known that Deirdre and Teirnan harbored a deep dislike for each other, though no one was entirely sure as to why.
“Deirdre.” Teirnan dipped his head in acknowledgement. “As always, it’s a pleasure to meet you again.”
“What is a pleasure,” Deirdre replied, refusing to share his sentiment, “is that you’ve been so kind as to bring your sister to visit this time.”
“Skye traveled along?” Aiden found himself voicing the question aloud as he looked about the room for the small child amongst the crowd gathering in the great hall. He remembered the precocious lass who had wandered barefoot through the forests outside of the Laramie estate, preferring her brother’s riding suits to the elegant gowns that befitted her station. She would be about fifteen now, he guessed. His eyes landed on a boyish girl standing along the wall who looked like she could do with a strong bar of soap. He didn’t remember Skye having muddy brown hair, but perhaps she had gone mangy as she had grown.
Deirdre laughed. “Aiden, you’re daft.” She placed both hands on the stunning blonde beside her. “Well then, meet Skye, brother. Though you’ve met her often enough in our childhood that you ought to be ashamed at your abysmal memory.”
Aiden felt his brows contract in confusion.
“Skye is a lass of what… fifteen now?” He made a small gesture at the woman in front of him, clearly representing that he believed her to be older than the individual they were discussing. Teirnan’s laugh was a deep rumble beside him.
The blonde dipped into a smooth curtsy, a move that the awkward Skye would never have perfected. Her curls spilled forward over her shoulders before she stood once again.
“I’m twenty.” She spoke softly. “If you’ll force a lass to own to it.” There was an edge to her voice as if she found the situation amusing.
Aiden felt his mouth fall open. He could see Teirnan watching his reaction with amusement and shut it with a quick snap. The moment seemed to drag for an age but Aiden could think of nothing to say. His mind was in a complete state of shock. Thankfully he was saved from a response only seconds later when his brother attempted to diffuse the awkward situation.
“I’d like to meet this skilled hunter,” Greum proclaimed. “to thank him for this beautiful gift.”
Aiden watched Skye run her fingers along the soft fur of the wolf pelts. She watched her brother out of the corner of her eye as Teirnan collected himself from yet another burst of laughter.
“I see that it has been too long since our families have shared a roof. May I present,” Teirnan threw his arms out and gestured at Skye, “your huntress!”
***
If Skye had thought that the Laird and his children could not have been more shocked at her arrival, she would have been wrong. The silence that rang through the hall after her brother’s announcement was palpable. She had always thought it strange that for a clan that had easily come to terms with the fact that it was brimming with shapeshifters, it never ceased to spark amazement at the idea that a female might also willingly venture into the wild reaches of the MacConaill lands.
Catríona was the first to react.
“How brilliant!” she exclaimed, rounding the trunk to embrace Skye and thank her for the gift. When she pulled away Catríona’s hands remained on Skye’s shoulders. Her eyes were both smiling and serious as she continued, “Sometimes a woman must take matters into her own hands, yes?”
From the crowd came a series of mild chuckles. It was well known that Lady Catríona had independently taken on the task of avenging her father’s death. The dangerous journey had not only led her to the truth of her father’s murder, but also into the loving arms of her new husband.
Skye felt herself smile. Between Lady Catríona and the bold Deirdre, Skye would find no lack of strong-willed women here at Castle MacConaill.
She resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in her gown. She could see, in her peripheral vision, Aiden watching her with a shocked fascination. Skye suppressed the urge to smooth her hands over the front of her gown, tuck her free-flowing hair behind an ear, or in some other way fix whatever mishap of her attire would cause him to stare with such complete focus. She longed for the smooth leather of her hunting trousers, the thick protection that allowed her to walk through bush and bramble without fear of snag or scrape. Skye was not suited for gowns, despite her father’s many attempts to train the wild spirit out of her. She had studied with the best tutors, learned the most elegant manners and fashions, all to fulfill her father’s dreams of marrying her off to some boring and steady landowner.
I’ll not have you living in a shack in the woods, Skye Laramie. Your brother will be a bonnet Laird to The MacConaill and you will make a match befitting your station. Skye remembered his words exactly, as if they had somehow been branded on her soul. Give up on this foolhardy wildness. Settle into the lady that you were raised to be. Model yourself after your mother, God rest her soul. Take her things and wear them as your own, let them remind you of your duties. The impassioned speech of her beloved father, whose love for her wanted only to ensure her security with a prominent husband, were the very words that were meant to break her spirit.
Skye turned her back to Aiden, focusing her attention instead on Greum and Catríona, who were admiring the quality of the pelts. The sooner they left this place, the better. While Skye was pleased to see her old friends again, she was not suited for castle life. There were too many potential suitors that queued around The MacConaill and his family. Skye much preferred to remain in the obscurity of the Laramie estate. She knew the reasons for her father’s request that she join her brother on his journey and she did not like them one bit.
Skye scanned the faces that sat at the tables around the great hall. With how many of these men would Teirnan encourage her to speak? Her eyes lit upon a man who appeared near to her father’s age who was watching her with greedy eyes. Skye felt her skin prickle with disgust. Not him, she told herself. Not any of them.
Later that evening, The MacConaill informed them that he had ordered a great feast in honor of their arrival. There would be a great boar roast, music and dancing, and all of the entertainments that were meant to thrill the young women of the castle. Skye, however, was not thrilled.
“This will be the ideal opportunity for you to be sociable.” Teirnan lectured. “If you don’t want father making the choice for you, I recommend that you begin your search.”
Skye turned to her brother with pleading eyes. Her handmaid forced her head back toward the
mirror and continued to weave her curls into an elegant pile atop Skye’s head.
“I don’t like this any more than you do, but you know how father is once he sets his mind.” Teirnan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’s only concerned about your future.”
“Why can’t you speak with him?” she bowed her head to stare at her hands, but a quick tug from her attendant forced it, once again, to return to its previous position. “You’ll be Laird one day. You could change his mind.”
“I’ve tried, Skye. I promise to keep trying but, I’m not Laird yet, and even I must follow his commands.” Teirnan sank to crouch in front of his younger sister. He took her hands in his own and kissed her forehead. “We promised mother that we would take care of you. This is the only way that he knows how. Quit fighting it and choose someone who could make you happy.”
“No highborn man is going to want a wife that is anything other than this.” she gestured at the elegant red gown that covered her body.
“Well, then that’s what you’ll have to be.” Teirnan winked at her. “Until after the wedding.”
When her brother left, Skye took a long look at herself in the mirror. The vibrant gown left her shoulders bare before falling into long trailing sleeves. Her tiny waist was accentuated by the full skirts that opened at the front to reveal a shimmering gold inlay. Skye tried to tug the dress up over her exposed shoulders but her hand was slapped away by the maid who was clasping a long chain and pendant about her neck. Skye fiddled with the heavy pendant before smoothing her hands over her corseted waist.
“You look beautiful, Mistress.” The woman beside her muttered. Skye thanked the mousy, plain-faced girl and watched her leave. At that moment, as she stared at the door that closed between them, Skye would have traded all of her beauty and birthright to be an average woman with the ability to make life choices for herself.