Unable to hold back her sigh, she came to a slow halt and gazed out of the window. The morning sun was already drifting into the afternoon, but she had spent nearly all her time in her bedroom, as she had been wont to do since that fated day three years ago.
So much time has passed and yet it doesnae feel like it.
Her dear betrothed, Murdock Anderson, had been found dead in his sleep three years ago. He was the first man she had ever loved, the only man she had ever given her heart to and he had died so suddenly. Ripped from her side like a passing wind. Without a word, without a goodbye, without a warning. Though Jonet had recovered from the shock, she still had not moved on from her sadness.
Shaking her head, she tried to put the past to the back of her mind and continued along her path. Even though the death of her beloved still weighed heavily on her, she knew she had to put it aside. She still had the responsibility of carrying along the Lairdship and so she had to marry. Once she had finally made the decision to do so, it had not taken long for her father to find a partner for her—who she happened to be heading towards right now.
His name was Henry Luther and he was nothing like Murdock.
Murdock was kind, smart, and down to earth. Henry, though he did not strike Jonet as a bad person, was much more serious and strait-laced. He was even a twinge conceited since he was the son of a very wealthy Laird. Even though he was very handsome, and always did his best to treat Jonet right, he would fall short in one aspect: she simply did not love him.
She emitted another sigh as she neared the den where she knew her father and Henry would be. Freya had come to inform her that they wished to see her and, much to Jonet’s reluctance, she knew it would be unwise to neglect her betrothed. After all, her father was really looking forward to the marriage.
Upon entering, they were already deep in conversation, their heads tilted back in harmonious laughter. They did not see her come in, not until she was almost upon them.
“Jonet!” her father, Alexander McTavish, Laird of MacLagain, boomed. His deep brown eyes sparkled with happiness as he waved her over. As usual, he had a goblet of ale already in hand and he wasted no time preparing one for Jonet, his dark red hair sticking wildly into the air.
While Laird MacLagain poured the ale, Jonet plastered a smile onto her face and faced her betrothed, whose eyes had been watching her ever since she came into the room. As usual, she was struck by how smoothly handsome he was, with silky blond hair and deep blue eyes. If she did not know better, Jonet might have thought he was a stranger to hard work. Yet she knew that his skill at hunting was what made her father like him so much.
“It’s good to see ye, Henry,” she said with a kind voice, because that was all she could manage. For some reason, Murdock’s death weighed even heavier on her today.
“And it is always good to see ye, as well, Jonet,” Henry responded. She held out her hand he kissed it gently, not taking her eyes off him for a moment. “I havenae seen ye in quite some time. I wondered if ye were all right.”
Unlike Murdock, he did not stay at the castle, but visited her often while they aimed to get to know each other. Jonet was only half as excited about the prospect.
“I admit, I was feeling a wee bit unwell this mornin’,” she stated smoothly. “But then I realized stayin’ in bed wasnae doing me a lick of good.”
“Ye should get some fresh air, Jonet,” Laird MacLagain cut in, handing Jonet her ale. She did not feel like touching it. Not today.
“That’s the plan, Father,” she said with a nod. “I was thinkin’ about goin’ out to the loch and goin’ for a swim. Would ye both like to join me?”
“Ah, what I would give to relax like that right now,” her father responded. “But I daenae think I will be able to. I will be goin’ into the village today.”
“And I,” Henry jumped in. “Plan to go huntin’.”
Jonet blinked in surprise.
“Huntin’, ye say?” She glanced at Henry to see that he was looking very pleased with himself. “Again?”
“Ye can never hunt too much, ye ken,” Henry claimed, downing his ale with one gulp. Jonet almost giggled at the line of liquid along his upper lip. It greatly contrasted her father’s large, thick beard.
“I thought ye both went yesterday. Did ye nae catch anythin’? I find that hard to believe.”
Laird MacLagain laughed heartily at that, while Henry’s eyes twinkled. Jonet frowned, feeling suddenly as if they were sharing a private joke.
“I wish to hunt yer favorite meat, Jonet,” he said in a smooth voice. “I do remember ye being very excited when venison was served at dinner a few nights ago and so I want to make ye that happy again. But ye shouldnae worry for me. I will be just fine.”
“I ken ye will, Henry,” she responded. Though she knew he only said that last bit to boast his prowess at hunting, it did not dim his nice gesture. He was always doing such well-intentioned things for her during his visits to the castle. More and more, Jonet was beginning to see that being married to him would not be entirely bad, even if she did not love him.
“Of course, ye do,” Henry went on. “But I will prove it to ye, Miss Jonet. Ye only need to wait.”
“All right, all right,” her father jumped. “It’s clear that ye like her but ye daenae need to go off blubbering about everything ye can do.”
Jonet looked expectantly at Henry. She knew her father was only joking, in his blunt and harsh way, but she did not know if Henry was used to it yet.
He took it in stride, however, his confidence not wavering for a moment.
“A little reminder wouldnae hurt a soul, Laird MacLagain.”
“Aye, aye,” Laird MacLagain said in an idle tone. “Wait till she gets angry and ye’ll be seeing the dark side of Jonet ye never wish he did.”
Henry looked at Jonet, his deep blue eyes sparkling with surprise. “Truly?”
Jonet only shrugged one shoulder and finally took a sip of her ale. “I daenae ken what me faither is talking about.”
Larid MacLagain barked a laugh at that and so did Henry, though he looked a bit thrown by the odd information. Then, he said, “Well, I should be leaving. If I want to catch ye yer venison before dinner, then there’s nay reason standin’ around here.”
“Do ye want me to escort ye?” Jonet asked politely.
In truth, she was feeling a little guilty for not spending as much time with him today as she should have, even though he came all the way to the castle to visit.
“It would do me heart good to have ye see me off, Miss Jonet,” Henry declared with a broad smile. Laird MacLagain hankered down into a seat and waved them off, taking a large gulp of his ale.
Jonet left the room, feeling Henry right over her shoulder. He was a tall man, capable of making her feel small and fragile, and she knew he would do whatever he could to protect her. Despite his conceitedness, he was such a good man that she could not think of a single reason why they should not be married. After all, their marriage would build relations between her father and his. It would benefit everyone.
“Are ye truly all right, Miss Jonet?” he asked after a few moments of walking in silence.
Jonet clung to the scarf around her shoulders as she said, “I’m still feeling a wee bit unwell, unfortunately. I hope ye daenae mind.”
“Of course nae, Miss Jonet. I only wish to see a smile on ye face once more. When me huntin’ goes well today, ye will be as happy as a lark, I tell ye.”
“I look forward to it.” Jonet giggled. She could admit; she did find him funny sometimes.
That served to put him in a good mood and he whistled a tune as they continued along out to the stables where both their horses stood in wait. Henry’s horse stood idly outside in waiting and he jumped atop his mighty steed with a flourish, no doubt to impress Jonet. She gave him what he wanted with a broad, amazed smile. He was even more pleased by that and with a tip of his head, he raced off.
Jonet watched him go. He did appear very dashing ridi
ng off like that, the beat of his horses’ hooves echoing in the air around them. She found herself falling into the sight, taken so much by his bronze skin dazzling with a new sheen of sweat that she didn’t hear Freya’s approach.
“Miss Jonet,” Freya called. “Would ye like to leave now?”
“Oh, Freya,” Jonet gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Ye frightened me. Ye must really say somethin’ before ye sneak up on someone like that.”
“That was me sayin’ somethin’, Miss Jonet,” Freya stated matter-of-factly.
“Aye, I suppose it is.” Jonet sighed. “Then, does that mean ye wish to accompany me now? When I first asked, ye seemed very opposed to the idea.”
“I…” Freya’s eyes darted away. “I thought about it and, well…the walk would do me good.”
“I’m glad ye think so.” Jonet frowned at her slightly odd behavior. “Are ye feeling unwell? Maybe me lies to me Faither and Henry resulted in getting ye sick in the process? Me sins might be catching up to me.”
Freya stared at Jonet for a moment before her serious countenance cracked into a smile. Jonet considered it a victory. Freya was always trying her best to appear the focused maid but, now and again, Jonet would succeed in bringing out the fun side of her. “Instead of ye but me, ye mean, Miss Jonet,” Freya said, sobering up quickly. “But, nay, I’m nae feelin’ unwell. I just want to get out of the castle.”
“If that’s the case then, let’s go. Would ye like to walk?”
Freya’s eyes went a tad wide, her cheeks growing pink. “M-Miss Jonet, ye should be the one to tell me that! Sometimes, ye make me wonder if I’m even yer maid.”
“But, ye’re nae,” Jonet smiled. “Ye’re me friend.”
“Oh, heavens, what will I do with ye?” Freya sighed heavily.
That made Jonet laugh. And just like that, the weight on her shoulders lifted. Freya always knew how to put her in a better mood and Jonet was suddenly happy she had offered to join her.
Together, they delved further into the stables, listening to the neighs and snorts of the horses her father owned. Jonet preferred one of them, her lovely Highland Pony that stood in her own stall on the farthest end of the stables. Her name was Fenella because of those broad white shoulders she boasted, which had drawn Jonet to her in the first place.
As she mounted Fenella’s back, Freya chose the gentle pony ahead of Fenella, the only one Freya was willing to ride.
The loch was within walking distance of the Castle—according to Jonet, anyway. Freya was not a fan of walking such a long distance, but Jonet always enjoyed how her mind had free reign to wander while she walked, letting the wind blow through her loose hair with the cool grass beneath her feet. Even though Freya would complain that it was too far a walk for anyone to undergo comfortably, Jonet always thought the time would pass much too quickly for her liking.
Today, however, she did not want her mind to wander. In fact, she was going to the loch because she wished to wash all her thoughts away. Dipping into the cold water, with its bottomless end and its looming lore, was bound to make her relax, and having Freya with her was even better.
The weight on her shoulders returned and it wasn’t until they had arrived at the loch that she realized it wasn’t only because she was remembering Murdock’s death, but because she had an odd feeling. As she stripped her clothes, she began to wonder if something was amiss.
Faither dinnae seem off when I spoke with him. Maybe I’m overthinkin’ things.
Telling herself that did little, but diving underneath the water did. She swam around with Freya lingering near the bank since she was not as strong a swimmer. Jonet tried her best to free her mind of the unusual feeling that was steadily growing stronger.
She spent so much time swimming that she hadn’t realized night was falling. When Freya called to her saying it was best that they return to the Castle before it grew dark, she finally climbed out. A chill brought goosebumps to her skin and Jonet quickly got dressed, unable to shake the bizarre sensation.
As they returned to the castle, she realized that the feeling had not been for nothing. The moment she walked in a servant told her that her father was looking for her in his den. Jonet glanced at Freya, who shared her fearful look, before she made her way there alone.
“Pa?” she called, entering.
Laird MacLagain was pacing the broad space in the center of the den, the pelt rug on the floor flattening under the weight of his stress. When he turned to her, Jonet saw a look in his eyes that she had only seen once before: when Murdock had died.
“Nay,” she breathed. She staggered forward, feeling as if her heart were about to jump out of her chest. As if to stop it, she clutched her clothes.
“We cannae find him, Jonet,” her father said, his voice soft and gentle. “But we will. We’ll find him and bring him back.”
They willnae find him. He’s a master hunter. If he’s missing then…
Laird MacLagain, as if sensing the direction of her thoughts, patted his large hand on her head in a rather awkward fashion, as was his way of doing. He had never been good at expressing emotions, though he had always tried to in place of her mother.
“We will find him,” he repeated firmly.
Jonet stared up at him, his image blurring through the haze of tears. Unable to speak, she only nodded.
Yet, coming as no surprise to her, her father was unable to keep that promise.
Chapter 3
Three years later
The MacLagain Castle was something Matthew had always seen from afar. In his line of work, he knew better than to get too close to such a place, but he would often stare at the imposing building of stone jutting into the sky. He would let his mind wander to what his life might have been like had he been born the son of a Laird, destined to inherit the Lairdship when the time was right.
From what Matthew had heard, the Laird of MacLagain was a wealthy man surrounded by a healthy swarm of servants to take care of such a massive home. There were other things he knew about the Laird, other reasons he had to be envious of him, but for now, there was only one piece of information that mattered to him. The fact that he had an unmarriageable daughter.
Rumors had begun to swirl throughout the clan for some time, but Matthew had never heard them, not caring to be privy to internal gossip that did nothing for his line of work. Much like staying away from the Laird’s castle, he did not bother to listen to any information regarding him either. What good would it do a man like him?
Except when he had learned that the Laird’s daughter was unmarriageable, due to a curse she supposedly possessed, Matthew realized that this was his chance.
Once he was finally within sights of the men standing guard at the entrance of the castle, he came to a stop. They were watching him, but they did not bother to approach. Matthew took that as his chance to drink in the sheer size of the building before him, nearly salivating at the thought of it all being his.
“State yer business,” one of the men standing guard said when Matthew finally bridged the gap.
“I request an audience with the Laird,” he stated.
“What for?” asked the other in a very suspicious tone. “We havenae seen ye before.”
Matthew slid his eyes to him. “It isnae a matter I’m goin’ to speak with ye two about. Allow me to see the Laird.”
The two men stiffened at that. They exchanged glances and Matthew stood in silence. He knew they were debating whether it was a good idea to do what he asked of them or not and he hoped he seemed trustworthy enough not to be turned away.
For a moment, he considered telling them the true reason why he wished to see the Laird, knowing they could not possibly turn him away after that but then they lifted their chins, almost in unison and stepped aside, revealing the path through the large doors to him. Matthew nodded a polite thanks and pushed his way through.
The air inside the castle felt different. Or maybe it was he who felt different, knowing how close he was to the b
eginning of his new—and hopefully—final plan. He could not keep his eyes off the impeccable stone walls, the oversized windows, the hanging evidence of the Laird’s fondness of hunting. It was an opulence he had never been able to touch.
One of the guards came with him, slipping in front to lead the way. With the sheer size of the castle, Matthew did not see many others as he was led through the winding hallways. A few servants passed by and only glanced curiously at him before continuing on their way.
The guard trailed to a stop. Matthew, for the first time ever, felt nervous. This is it.
“Laird MacLagain,” the guard called as he knocked. “Ye have a man who wishes to see ye.”
Highlander's Trials of Fire: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 2