When a Warrior Woos a Lass

by Johnstone, Julie

  She sighed at the complications she had created for Alex, who had so much weighing on him already. But she would not have changed her decision to come even if she could have. Besides, Broch was a formidable force of strength for Alex in this den of liars. The story, if anyone was to recognize him as a MacLeod, was that he had pledged loyalty to Alex when Alex had offered him land and a great manor, which was much more than had been given to him by Iain or King David.

  “Tell me,” Lena urged.

  He nodded. “Gillis was killed by one of his apprentices, if the old rumors be true. A young lad, if I recall correctly.”

  “Do ye ken why?” Lena asked.

  Broch’s cheeks flushed red, which shocked her. The man was not easily embarrassed. “I heard whispers, but they are nae fit for a lady’s ears.”

  She nodded. “I appreciate yer concern for my sensibilities, Broch, but I feel certain if I can withstand what Findlay put me through, I can endure whatever ye may tell me.”

  His eyes widened a fraction. She felt rather surprised herself at how she had referred to her ordeal. The chains that had bound her in shame were no longer there at all. What had happened to her did not bring shame upon her, but upon Findlay. She was now completely and totally free.

  Broch cleared his throat. “There were whispers that Gillis used the boy who killed him.”

  Lena frowned. “What do ye mean used?”

  Broch opened and shut his mouth, but no words came out. Marsaili put a hand on Lena’s arm. “I believe,” Marsaili said, “that Broch means Gillis treated the boy as he might a lass.”

  Broch nodded, his face bloodred from brow to neck. “One he beat in order to get him to accept the attentions Gillis wanted to give him.”

  Lena grasped her roiling stomach. God’s teeth! Was Thomas that boy? Had Alex kenned something of Gillis’s dark nature himself and felt responsible for not protecting Thomas? And had Alex kenned Gillis’s evilness because Gillis had used Alex, too?

  Her heart raced as sweat trickled down her back. If Alex was holding secrets like this inside him, no wonder he had such violent nightmares. She could not share any of these thoughts with Broch or Marsaili, of course, who were both staring at her now. “Thank ye,” Lena said simply. When Broch nodded and then started to turn toward the door, it occurred to her to ask him about Euphemia. “Broch, I dunnae suppose ye have heard any rumors regarding Lady Euphemia?”

  “Only one. I’ve heard she has a dark side, which makes her a good match for the Steward and made her one for Gillis, as well. I’ll leave ye to ready yerself for supper now.”

  Lena nodded. Once Broch had quit the room, she and Marsaili faced each other. “Do ye think,” Lena said slowly, “that Alex and that woman—”

  “Aye,” Marsaili answered before Lena had even finished her question.

  Lena drew in a long, shuddering breath. So it had seemed obvious to more than just her that there had been an intimate relationship between Alex and the woman. Lena glanced down at her gown, then back up to find Marsaili doing much the same with her own appearance. “We look affright,” Lena said matter-of-factly.

  “Aye,” Marsaili agreed, even as a hesitant look came to her eyes.

  Lena’s brows knitted together in concern. “What is it?”

  Marsaili nibbled on her lip for a long moment. “We’ve nae had a chance to discuss how ye feel about Alex’s joining the Steward’s cause.”

  Lena tensed. She’d not told Marsaili the truth because Marsaili would undoubtedly be called to appear before the Steward to confirm that Alex had fallen out with King David, and it would be better if she truly believed he had. Besides that, Lena and Alex were to appear as if they did not care for each other, and this deception would aid in that ruse. “I despise him for it, but what can I do?” She shrugged. “I am good and married to him.”

  “Will ye warn Iain of Alex’s intent? Have ye warned him of what I have done?”

  Lena thought immediately of the letter she’d written. It occurred to her that she’d not even asked Alex if he had sent it after he had intercepted it. Now, given what she had learned of his mission from the king, she hoped he had not sent the letter. Marsaili could do no further harm to the MacLeod clan under Alex’s watchful eye. “As far as I ken, Iain dunnae have knowledge of yer betrayal or Alex’s. When next ye see Iain, ye will have to tell him,” she said gently, for she did understand what had driven Marsaili. “Ye will have to face whatever punishment he gives ye.”

  Marsaili bit her lip. “Do ye believe he’ll banish me? What if I find my son but then dunnae have anywhere to live? I kinnae return to the Campbell hold.” She shuddered.

  Lena took Marsaili’s hand and squeezed it. “Ye are my sister. Ye may live with me, but,” she said in a warning tone, “if yer da dunnae tell ye the location of yer son as he vowed to, ye must nae make any further bargains with him. Ye must vow to come to me first with any aid ye need.”

  “I vow it,” Marsaili said fiercely. “But as sorry as I am to say this, Da is undoubtedly pleased at this moment, as Alex is likely swearing his fealty to the Steward in front of Da.”

  A rap came at the door followed by, “Marsaili, ye have been summoned to the great hall by the Steward,” Donald said.

  “She needs a moment, if ye please,” Lena answered for her sister, who had gone pale. Lena’s own palms became instantly damp. “Make haste and let us aid each other into finer gowns and brush the tangles from our hair.”

  Within moments, Lena had donned a gown she’d brought from Dunvegan that Marion had made for her when she was on a campaign to cheer Lena up. Lena ran a hand down the fine, brilliant-blue silk skirts. If she had to have supper in the same great hall as a woman her husband had known intimately, she wanted to look her best. She glanced at Marsaili, who was wearing a lovely gown in a pale shade of green. Her sister twisted her hands together nervously.

  Lena reached out and clasped Marsaili’s hand once more. “Ye will be fine. Dunnae let the men frighten ye. Simply follow Alex’s lead.”

  Marsaili frowned at her. “Ye seem rather calm and forgiving when yer husband is betraying his bond with our brothers.”

  “I must believe that all will be as God wills it, or else I will go mad,” she said evasively but honestly.

  Marsaili nodded. “I wish I had yer faith, yer strength, and yer ability to accept. Though, I’m sorry to say I detest yer husband now, and if I did nae need to find my son…” Marsaili shrugged. “It’s verra hypocritical of me, I ken, given I’m a traitor myself.”

  “Mayhap,” Lena said with care so as not to give anything away, “Alex has his reasons, as ye do, for doing what he does.”

  “Love has made ye blind,” Marsaili growled.

  “Nay,” Lena said, knowing there was nothing else she could say.

  “Marsaili, we must away,” came Donald’s voice from the other side of the door.

  “I’ll see ye in the great hall at supper, I suppose, if nae sooner,” Marsaili said. She was gone a moment later.

  Lena was left with her own thoughts, which turned immediately to what she had just learned from Broch and how best to broach the matter with Alex. She concluded rather quickly that there would be no good way to approach him about Thomas and Euphemia. She feared he would still shut her out, and if he did, the repercussions could be disastrous.

  Seventeen

  “Kneel,” the Steward commanded as he moved off the dais in the great hall to come stand before Alex.

  Alex debated what to do. The Steward obviously wanted a show of obedience to prove trustworthiness, yet he suspected the man would not trust or respect any laird who would so easily bend to the commands of another, even one he professed to want to serve. So Alex stood unmoving.

  Thomas, who was beside Alex, drew his sword and brought the point to Alex’s throat. “On yer knees, MacLean.”

  Alex’s fingers twitched for his sword, which had been taken from him by the Steward’s guards before they’d allowed him to enter the great hall. />
  “I dunnae kneel before any man,” Alex bit out, eyeing first Thomas and then the Steward.

  The Steward stood so close to Alex that he could smell the stench of sweat and mead on the man. The king’s nephew shoved his red hair off his forehead and narrowed his sharp, blue eyes upon Alex. “Ye have come here to pledge yer fealty to me, but ye will nae kneel?”

  “Ye are nae my king yet, Robert,” Alex replied, choosing to use the man’s given name as a purposeful show that he considered them matched in status. “The moment ye are declared so, I will kneel before ye. But I come to ye now as an equal. Both of us, all of us—” he motioned to Marsaili’s father, the Campbell laird, who was sitting at the dais, and then to Thomas, the only other person in the room “—are equals in our discontent of David.”

  “Ye mean King David,” the Campbell snarled.

  “Nay,” Alex replied. “I dunnae consider him my king any longer. He gives power to commoners and takes it and land from us nobles, whose clans have long supported him. He dunnae have respect for me, and he forced a marriage on me that I did nae want.” The lies made his gut twist, but they were necessary.

  “Why would ye nae wish to wed Lena MacLeod?” the Steward asked.

  “Lena Campbell,” the Campbell laird bellowed.

  Alex had to clench his teeth not to contradict the devil.

  “She belonged to the Campbell clan.” The Campbell slammed his fist against the table.

  Belonged? Alex’s head throbbed with rage. Lena was not a possession but a woman. He wanted to pummel the Campbell.

  “The king forced ye to marry her simply to thwart me,” the Campbell continued. “I ken it, in spite of what lies he tried to shove down my throat.” The Campbell jerked to his feet. “She was my family’s to have and use as we saw fit, to hurt and degrade in order to strike back at Iain MacLeod for all the blows he and his brothers have struck upon us.”

  Alex was a breath away from damning the mission, grasping the blade of the sword still pointed at his throat, and using it to kill the Campbell, but the Steward said, “Enough. All this complaining dunnae change the fact that she now belongs to the MacLean clan. So tell me,” the Steward demanded as he stared at Alex. “Why would ye nae wish to be married to such a beguiling creature?”

  Before Alex could answer, Marsaili was ushered into the room, looking as uneasy and fearful as a rabbit being hunted. She hovered at the door, sweeping her gaze over Alex, Thomas, the Steward, and finally, her father. “Da,” she said and offered an awkward curtsy to him and then the rest of them.

  The Campbell gave his daughter a dispassionate look. “Still nae a bonny lass, I see.”

  Marsaili’s cheeks reddened, and pity gripped Alex. He’d been angry with Marsaili when he’d learned she was the traitor, but when he’d read of her son and how her father was hiding the child from her, he had understood what she’d done. He did not condone it, but he understood it. Watching her shift from foot to foot and bite nervously on her lip, he was glad that she did not know the truth about him and the mission King David had tasked him with. Marsaili would have given the truth away, not out of spite but out of fear. And while he may now be in possession of one of the traitors’ names—Laird Fraser—he still needed the other.

  “Ye are just in time to hear why the MacLean laird did nae care to marry yer half sister,” the Campbell said. “Surprising, is it nae, given her beauty? That dunnae bode well for ye, Marsaili, given yer lack of it. If one as bonny as Lena kinnae sway a man, what hope do ye have?”

  “Nae verra much, Da,” she answered in a meek voice that was so unlike the woman Alex had glimpsed at Dunvegan. Gone was any boldness and zest for life in the face of her father.

  “So, MacLean?” the Steward pressed.

  Alex racked his mind for what to say that would seem believable. Several things came to him, but it made him ache to even think of uttering such insults about Lena. Still, he had to. He could feel Marsaili staring at him, and he could imagine that the woman would want to gouge his eyes out after he spoke. “It was well kenned that she feared men, which concerned me in regard to how she would be in the joining.”

  “And how was she?” the Campbell demanded, a leer on his face.

  Alex arched his eyebrows. “As I expected. Fearful. Cold. Nae the sort of lass to rouse a man to passion.”

  Marsaili gasped and her face mottled red, but she held her tongue.

  “Findlay said much the same,” the Campbell chortled. “Ye need to beat her. It certainly made the bedchamber more entertaining for Findlay.”

  From the corner of his vision, Alex saw Marsaili glaring at him and trembling with rage.

  “I imagine I could bring some warmth out of yer wife,” Thomas said, lowering the blade from Alex’s neck. Thomas’s gaze slid to Marsaili for a moment before returning to Alex. “I’ve a special way with lasses. Though, I have heard ye do, as well, MacLean.”

  Alex flinched, his gut telling him Thomas was alluding to the darker side of passion he used to crave and had fulfilled with the lasses he’d been with before Lena. “As I made clear earlier, Lena is my possession now, and I dunnae share what is mine.”

  “So yer break with David occurred over him forcing ye to marry Lena MacLean?” the Steward asked.

  “Aye,” Alex responded. “Then he took away one of my castles as punishment for what he called my ‘insolent behavior.’ I’ll nae serve a king who forgets the lairds who put him on his throne and kept him there. I wish for a king who looks to the lairds to rule by his side, nae under his boot.”

  “Well said, MacLean. And I wish to believe ye. Truly, I do. But…”

  “Ye need proof of my fealty,” Alex said. He’d expected this, and he hoped Marsaili’s word would be proof enough, because if it wasn’t, he was certain whatever the Steward required him to do would be against everything he believed in.

  “Aye. I do require additional proof.” The Steward cut his gaze from Alex to Marsaili. “Tell me, lass. Is the account that the MacLean gave us correct?”

  “Aye,” Marsaili immediately replied. “I witnessed his argument with the king, and the MacLean did, indeed, storm away, and I overheard him tell his man Donald that the king had lost his fealty.”

  Alex stared at Marsaili, surprised at her words. He’d never told Donald that, so the lass was lying. He suspected she fabricated the truth to ensure he was accepted so her father would tell her the location of her child.

  “Thank ye for the information, lass,” the Steward said.

  Marsaili looked to her father, a beseeching expression on her face that stabbed at Alex’s heart. “Da?”

  The Campbell waved a dismissive hand at her. “Wait outside in the passage for me. I’ll speak with ye when I’m finished here.”

  Anger flashed in Marsaili’s eyes so briefly that Alex would have thought he imagined it if it weren’t for her flaring nostrils, even as she smiled meekly. She nodded and started from the room, serving him a chilly look as she went. He was pleased to see her show of support for Lena, even though it meant she believed the worst of him.

  Once the door closed behind her, the Steward said, “Ye must ken the position I’m in.”

  Dread filled Alex’s chest. The Steward had decided to demand a show of fealty.

  “Aye,” Alex said, striving to make his tone nonchalant. “How do ye wish me to prove myself?”

  “It so happens,” Thomas said, surprising Alex by speaking, “that we have received word of an ambush planned on one of our raiding parties today. And the enemy party is being led by none other than the renowned Lachlan MacLeod.”

  Alex’s gut clenched at the ill timing of the ambush by Lachlan’s men. “What do ye wish me to do?”

  “Kill Lachlan,” the Campbell announced from the dais.

  Knots of tension formed in Alex’s shoulders and neck. He would never do such a thing, but he had to find a way to convince the Steward he was faithful. His mind raced as he searched for an acceptable solution, but before he found a
n answer, the Steward spoke.

  “Nay,” he said. “Dunnae kill Lachlan MacLeod. Bring him to me, though, and I will spare his life when he thinks he is near death. That way, when I am king, I will have the man’s undying fealty. One thing I ken about the MacLeod brothers is that they are tight as a well-woven blanket. If I have one brother’s fealty, I will have them all. I would be near unstoppable with the MacLeods behind me.”

  “I want him dead!” the Campbell roared.

  The Steward gave the man a black look. “Dunnae be shortsighted. We need to gather as many strong clans behind us as we can. When I am on the throne, I will give ye more power than the MacLeods, and then ye may seek yer revenge.”

  “Is that a vow?” the Campbell demanded.

  “Aye,” the Steward said. “It is. Sworn here this day and witnessed by Thomas and the MacLean.”

  “I would go with the MacLean to ensure he dunnae try any deception with Lachlan,” the Campbell said, glaring at Alex.

  “By all means, away with ye, then.” The Steward turned his gaze first on Thomas and then on Alex. Something in the depths of the man’s eyes set off warning bells in Alex’s mind. “Thomas will keep watch over yer wife while ye are away, so dunnae concern yerself with her safety.”

  A troubling image of Thomas with Lena entered Alex’s head. He swallowed with difficulty but found his voice. “That will nae be necessary. I’ll leave my men Broch and Donald to watch her.” He would instruct Donald to take her from here the moment he could get the two of them away unnoticed.

  “I’ll be pleased to aid them,” Thomas said, giving Alex a smug look.

  Alex would have happily choked Thomas in that moment. “Thomas, it would serve ye nae to forget what I told ye,” he said, hearing the balefulness of his tone. “Lena is my property. If ye so much as touch her, the devil himself will nae stop me from killing ye.”