by Willa Blair
Two nights ago in the Fletcher’s solar, Jamie’s reaction to her demand that he tell her about Alasdair MacGregor had bemused her, despite the sense he made in refusing. But the more she thought about it, the more it worried her. The sooner they got to MacGregor, the sooner she would see what had caused Jamie’s disquiet. His insistence that she be allowed to make up her own mind, uninfluenced by his opinions, hadn’t been a lie, exactly, but he’d certainly evaded giving her an answer.
When they arrived at MacGregor, along with her intended betrothed, she expected her father would be there to receive them, and he would give her the first clue. She could read him like a book, and might know, simply by the way he greeted her, how the negotiations had gone before her arrival. If he was tense and anxious, she’d know that things weren’t going his way. Fletcher was always happiest when he got what he wanted. But too much joviality would not be a good sign, either. If things were bad enough for him to hide his fears behind false laughter, she could expect they’d be back on the trail to Fletcher in no time. And that might be for the best, if it meant spending more time with Jamie without the confusion that the impending betrothal caused both of them.
The MacGregor keep came into sight just after midday. Caitrin could only compare it to Fletcher and to the Lathan’s Aerie. It appeared to be about the same size as the Aerie, larger than Fletcher, though less imposing than her girlish imaginings had led her to picture in her mind. It commanded the top of a wide, gently sloped hill. A burn ran at its base before it, bridged by a wooden structure the width of three horses. A village sprawled across the burn off to one side. All in all, it was impressive, and that made her blood run cold.
Will, riding beside her, caught Caitrin’s gaze and grinned.
She doubted he shared her father’s ambitions, but she could almost hear him thinking, This could be yers. She fought back a nervous grimace and looked away. She had to be strong. Her father’s hopes rested on her shoulders.
Jamie rode in his usual place at the head of their group. She could not see his face, and she wanted to. What did he think of their destination? Imposing, or just another in a long list of keeps and castles he had visited?
Would Jamie think her worthy of such a place? Did she? Now they’d arrived, doubts she’d ignored since her father had announced his plans caused her skin to prickle.
As expected, Fletcher met them at the inner gate. He looked well and strong as he helped her alight from her horse. His appearance relieved her mind, though she could not say why she would have expected him to look any differently. She knew he had earned MacGregor’s displeasure, which was one reason Fletcher proposed this marriage. Had she feared seeing her father’s head on a pike at the gate, or thought he’d be awaiting her arrival in the dungeon? Nay, nerves made her imagination run rampant.
But a frisson of unease disrupted her pleasure at seeing her father. What would Will tell him about their trip?
“’Tis good to see ye, lass. How was the journey?”
“As well as could be, Father.” She glanced around at the bustle of activity in the bailey. “But where is the MacGregor?”
“He will see ye before dinner. He wished to allow ye to refresh yerself from the journey before meeting ye.”
Did he? Or had her father insisted? First impressions carried weight, and the Fletcher knew that. He didn’t seem overly concerned, which made Caitrin think nothing had been decided, but negotiations continued. Which meant she still had an opportunity to influence the outcome.
Will greeted her father, but a stablehand interrupted them before he could say anything to cause trouble for Caitrin.
Then Jamie approached and Will stepped away. “Fletcher, I presume?”
“Aye, and ye are the new Lathan? ’Tis good to finally meet.”
“Nay, I regret Toran, Laird Lathan, couldna make the trip. I’m Jamie Lathan, cousin and envoy for Clan Lathan, and an old friend of Caitrin’s.”
His smile was pleasant enough, but Caitrin detected a hint of tension in his shoulders as he handed Fletcher a letter. So she was not the only one who harbored concerns about her father’s plans.
“I appreciate Lathan’s assistance in this matter,” Fletcher answered, glancing at the seal and nodding politely. “We’ll talk later, but for now, let’s get the lass to her chambers. There’s much to do before the evening meal.”
“Of course.”
Caitrin gave Jamie a brief smile before taking her father’s arm. The MacGregor steward led them into the keep and escorted them to their chambers. Jamie and the other Lathans were diverted to the floor below hers, along with Will. Her last glimpse of Jamie revealed his frown as Fletcher directed her up another flight of stairs. Will seemed unconcerned, but Jamie clearly didn’t like her being isolated from her escort.
Or from him?
At her suite of rooms, Fletcher took his leave, promising to return later to collect her. Caitrin looked around her new surroundings, amazed to have a sitting room, a bed chamber, and even a permanent bathing area. MacGregor servants filled the large stone tub in it with steaming water. The furnishings were well cared for and reflected the clan’s wealth—greater than what she was used to at Fletcher. A lass near Catrin’s age stayed behind to help her undress and to unpack her belongings. She seemed surprised when Caitrin asked her name, which was Nan, and thanked her for helping. Nan didn’t chatter, which suited Caitrin’s mood at the moment.
Caitrin relished this time to prepare. If she wasn’t neck deep in a warm tub, she’d be shaking with nerves, but the warm water soothed her. Before she knew it, her head nodded and her bath took on a decided chill.
She rose from the tub and dried off then pulled on a warm robe and settled by the small blaze in the hearth. Nan laid out the dress she’d chosen to wear for her first meeting with the man her father intended her to marry, and despite the warmth of the fire, that thought chilled her. What kind of man would he be? What kind of husband? Kind or cruel or indifferent? Caitrin was in no hurry to don the dress. Instead, she watched the flames dance and distracted herself by asking Nan questions while the lass brushed her hair to gleaming.
“What did ye do before ye came to help me?”
“I help one of the other ladies, but she has several of us to care for her, so the steward sent me to ye.”
After the warm bath, the glide of the comb through Caitrin’s hair was almost mesmerizing, but it didn’t keep her from noticing bruises on Nan’s arms. “What did ye do to gain those?”
“Ach, I can be so foolish. I tried to move one of milady’s chests. It was too heavy for me and left these marks.”
The slight tingle on her skin told Caitrin Nan had lied, but why. Had someone hurt her? And was it any of her business? She’d barely arrived. If the maid didn’t complain, she had no reason to pry. Instead, she watched as the lass pinned up her hair. She wasn’t used to such luxury, or to such luxurious treatment. She resolved to enjoy it while she remained here, come what may.
That thought stopped her. While she remained here? Had she decided before she even met the man to refuse the match? Because of Jamie? Her father would never tolerate such rebellion. Jamie would not go against her father’s wishes. Nor could she, not without a very good reason he would accept. Nay, it was too soon to be thinking such things.
****
“Lathan. Welcome.”
Alasdair MacGregor stood as Jamie entered the solar.
“MacGregor.” Jamie took a moment to assess the man before him as he moved to the seat MacGregor indicated. Jamie had seen enough in his travels around Scotland, during his time studying at St. Andrews, and as emissary for his laird, to know the MacGregor keep befitted a wealthy and powerful clan. Thinking back to the Alasdair MacGregor he’d known in school, the reason for some of the lad’s arrogance became clear. True, he’d not been the heir at the time, but the disastrous Scottish defeat at Flodden had changed the course of many lives—those it did not end abruptly.
Alasdair had been a year ahead of
Jamie in his studies, so they hadn’t spent much lesson time together, though they got on well whenever their paths crossed. Some of the townfolk resented the presence of the St. Andrews students who, for the most part, were sons of Scottish nobles required by the king to study language, mathematics, and Scottish law. So outside of their studies, students usually spent time together at sport, sailing, hunting, and of course, frequenting the local pubs. That last, Jamie suddenly recalled, Alasdair had excelled at.
The man who stood before Jamie looked older. It remained to be seen whether he had also gained wisdom.
MacGregor gestured toward the window and the keep beyond it. “Well met,” he said, resuming his seat.
Well met here, Jamie supposed he meant, as opposed to their old haunts. Was that intended as a boast? “Indeed,” he answered, keeping his tone neutral.
“What of ye? My steward tells me ye are the Lathan emissary.”
“Aye,” Jamie answered, proffering the letter Toran had written for the MacGregor. “Much has changed since our time at St. Andrews.”
MacGregor took the missive and nodded, then set it aside in favor of fingering the handle of a small, thin-bladed knife that Jamie supposed he used to open correspondence. But any blade, used properly, could be a weapon. Jamie steeled himself to pay close attention.
“Would that we could go back to those simpler days, eh?”
Jamie shrugged. “What we studied didna seem so simple at the time.”
A rueful quirk of Alasdair’s lips signaled his agreement. “’Tis well we were schooled, as things turned out. Aye, much has changed.” He shifted forward in his seat and set the knife aside. “Tell me, then, ye just spent the journey in my future betrothed’s company. What is yer impression of the lass?”
His sudden eagerness for information about Caitrin put Jamie on guard. What difference would his opinion make in the MacGregor’s assessment of his prospective bride? He smiled, not wanting hesitation to indicate reservation or indecision on his part, but he knew he had to choose his words carefully.
“Caitrin Fletcher has grown into a lovely young woman,” he told the laird before him, choosing the most obvious course for the moment.
“Fletcher told me she spent several years at the Lathan keep after her mother died.”
“She did, poor lass.”
“And ye were acquainted with her during that time?”
“Aye, of course. Lathan children spend a great deal of time together, either in studies or training.” Or play. Jamie bit his tongue on that phrase, not sure what it would imply to the man before him. Had Caitrin told her father how close she had been to him and Toran? Had Fletcher said something to MacGregor? They’d been children, and little more than children, by the time she left, but one never knew how such friendship would be interpreted.
The MacGregor leaned back in his chair and leveled a stare at Jamie. “Fletcher tells me she is a most capable chatelaine, well-practiced in the womanly arts of running a keep.”
“On that, I canna offer an opinion.” Years ago, Jamie had mastered the art of schooling his expression, which served him in good stead as the change of subject eased some of the tension from his jaw. “Caitrin prepared for the journey before our arrival. I had nay cause to linger at Fletcher.”
“And ye renewed yer acquaintance on the way here?”
That was no question. Jamie’s hackles rose, though after a moment, he realized MacGregor’s tone had not betrayed any anger. “What are ye asking?” Surely, Uilleam’s suspicions had not been reported to the MacGregor already. They’d only just arrived. The steward had shown Jamie and the others to their chambers then informed him the the laird would see him immediately.
MacGregor cocked a speculative eyebrow and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. But is tone remained unaccusing. “Only that I ken little about the lass except what Fletcher has related to me. I canna count his opinion of his only daughter unbiased. To his eyes, she is the most extraordinary and beautiful creature in Scotland.”
Jamie had to laugh at that, not just to acknowledge the truth of it, but to relieve his sudden tension. “Of course. But ye will soon meet the goddess in question and form yer own opinion. I think it better for ye both to allow ye to make up yer own minds.” At MacGregor’s frown, he felt compelled to add, “But I’m confident ye will be pleased.”
MacGregor stood. Jamie took that for the signal it was and got to his feet.
“Very well. I understand yer reasons. I recall ye were sensible as a lad at St. Andrews, and I see that hasna changed. I will contain my impatient curiosity for the next hour or two.”
Jamie nodded. Before he could speak to take his leave, someone knocked at the door.
“Come.” MacGregor’s brusque tone told Jamie he little liked the interruption.
Fletcher entered and nodded to both men. “MacGregor. Lathan.”
He seemed unsurprised to find them together, though Jamie doubted Fletcher knew of their shared history.
“My daughter is resting from her journey and preparing to meet ye.”
MacGregor nodded. “I’ll greet her before the evening meal, as we discussed. Privately. Bring her here.”
“Aye, MacGregor, I will.” Fletcher nodded to Jamie. “I’ll leave ye to it, then.”
“The Lathan emissary was just leaving,” MacGregor announced. “I’ve work to do before meeting my future betrothed. Ye will sit with me at table, of course.” The comment was directed at Jamie, not at Fletcher, whom, Jamie suspected, already enjoyed that honor.
“I’ll look forward to it.” Jamie took his cue and walked to the door with Fletcher. As they exited the solar, he glanced back. The expression on MacGregor’s face did not reassure him. Something coldly speculative glinted in his eyes.
Chapter Six
She couldn’t put off the introduction much longer. Nan had finished arranging her hair. Sighing, Caitrin stood, smoothed her skirt, and reached for the baubles she’d chosen to wear. Just in time. As she finished with the last clasp, a knock sounded at the door, and Nan admitted her father into the sitting room. Caitrin went to greet him as the young maid slipped inside the bed chamber. Caitrin supposed she would eavesdrop while giving the appearance of allowing them to speak in private.
“Caitrin, lass. Are ye rested?”
“Aye. I’m pleased to be here and off the back of a horse.”
“Glad I am to hear ye say that. I believe the MacGregor is almost ready to sign the betrothal agreement. All he lacks is to meet ye and be charmed by yer wit and beauty.”
Her pulse kicked up. Nerves, of course. She had reason to be nervous, with all her father’s aspirations sitting on her shoulders. And Jamie present to witness the betrothal on behalf of the Lathan. She nearly frowned, but schooled her features. No sense alerting her father she had doubts about the match. Not yet.
“Thank ye, da. But surely it isna time for dinner?”
“Nay, but soon. The MacGregor asked to meet ye in his study. Let’s talk a moment before we go down to him.”
Her heart leapt to her throat. On the one hand, she would get to meet the man in private, where she might get a better sense of who he was without the confusion of other people in the room. On the other hand, the importance of that meeting continued to weigh on her mind. And, too, had Will relayed his suspicions to her father about her and Jamie?
“Ye ken how important this match is to Fletcher.”
She heard something strange in his voice. Hesitation? Now that he’d spent several days with the MacGregor, did he have doubts?
“I do.” Caitrin straightened her spine. “Ye have mentioned it a time or two.”
Fletcher cleared his throat, causing the hair on the back of her neck to lift. Her father might be many things, but hesitant was not one of them. Why was he stalling?
“The MacGregor seems disposed to the match, but much rides on ye, lass.”
“How so?”
“Ye must be...circumspect. Behave as a well-bred young woman sho
uld.”
The hair on Caitrin’s neck flattened. Her ire rose instead. “Do ye expect me to behave some other way?” Her irritation was only partially feigned. Though he claimed not to believe in her talent, she suspected he didn’t want her exposing any of the MacGregor’s lies.
“Nay, lass.” Fletcher shook his head, color creeping up his neck. “I merely wish to remind ye to be, ah, sensitive to the role ye must play in ensuring the MacGregor will wed ye.”
Her blood started a slow simmer. She fought to keep her expression serene. “I ken my place, Father. My worth to the clan.”
“Now, daughter. I didna mean it that way. I’m making a ruin of this. If ye want the truth of it, the MacGregor drives a hard bargain. He must be pleased with yer appearance as well as yer deportment. He has said he willna wed just for a pretty face - which ye have.” He raised a hand and went on, preventing her outraged interruption. “But a wife to him must be obedient and meek.” He sighed.
“No’ my strong suit, eh, Father?”
Fletcher shrugged. “It hasna been up to now. I urge ye to practice patience. Watch and wait. Give the man a chance.”
Caitrin echoed his heavy sigh. What choice did she have? “I will.”
“That’s all I ask, daughter.”
“All? Ye have never stopped after one demand before.”
“Aye. There is another matter.”
She tensed, knowing what was coming.
“The Lathan escort. I’m disappointed the Lathan dinna come. I understand the man he sent and ye were friends while ye fostered there. Ye will keep yer distance. There mustna be any hint of impropriety. Aye,” he said, holding his hand out again to forestall her denial. “Will expressed some concerns.”
Caitrin ground her teeth and muttered, “That traitorous dog.”
“But he also gave the Lathan credit for saving ye from yerself.”
That surprised her. She thought sure Will had been convinced of a tryst between Jamie and herself. “He did. Once when I slipped, and again when I strayed too near a wildcat’s den.”