A Wee Highland Predicament

by Ceci Giltenan

  She looked up, brightening. He wasn’t sure which was worse, her initial look of dread or the hopefulness evident in her expression now. It caused his heart to ache a little. He wasn’t sure this was going to turn out the way she wanted it to. But before he could worry too much over it, Ailsa launched into her story.

  In the end, Fingal was forced to admit, at least to himself, that other than Lucas lying to her about who he was and where they were going, he had behaved like most decent men would. He had been kind and protective, even after she wasn’t his responsibility anymore.

  Fingal believed Ailsa loved Lucas, however, he was under no romantic illusions. Just because she loved Lucas didn’t mean that he loved her. He’d have to speak with the man first. Furthermore, even if they did love each other, Fingal would have to be convinced that marrying her to a Grant was a wise move. And even then, there was no guarantee that Laird Grant would agree to the betrothal. Fingal would not allow them to marry against Laird Grant’s wishes. That would only increase the strife between the two clans. Because of this, he didn’t want to get Ailsa’s hopes up and spending time with Lucas now would only make it hurt worse later.

  So, when she had answered all of Fingal’s questions, and she asked him if she could go to the dungeon to see Lucas, he had to say, “Nay, lass. Not until I’ve had the chance to speak with him and make a few decisions.”

  He steeled himself for an outburst that didn’t come.

  Tears welled in her eyes again and her chin quivered, but she said, “Aye, Laird. May I be excused now?”

  He reached out and caressed her cheek. He loved her like a sister and he hated that he was the source of her current distress. “Aye, sweetling.”

  She turned and hurried out of the hall, wiping her face with her hands as she reached the stairs.

  Gillian heaved a sigh. “So, now what?”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  “Can I come with ye?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Gillian.”

  “Before ye say, nay, listen to me for a moment. I don’t know what to make of all this. He brought her here alone, knowing we would hold him captive. I believe my wee sister loves him. I want to understand why and to see if he loves her as well.”

  “Gillian, my love, ye know that even if I’m convinced that they do love each other and that he’d be a worthy husband for her, if Laird Grant doesn’t agree, I can’t allow it. It would put the clan at too great a risk.”

  “I know that. But when all is said and done, I’m the one who will have to deal with Ailsa’s broken heart. I want to have—I need to have—the full story.”

  Fingal stood and held a hand out to her. “Well then, let’s go take the measure of this man.”

  Taking a torch from the wall, they went down into the cellar, Bodie on their heels.

  When they reached the cellars, they went down the hall to another set of stairs that descended to the dungeon.

  Fingal took the keys from the wall and opened the door.

  Gillian, with Bodie, followed him down the narrow stairs to the dungeon.

  There were only six small cells. Fingal was glad to see that a torch had been left burning so that their prisoner wasn’t left in utter darkness. Lucas Grant lay on his back on the wooden platform in the cell nearest the door, Duff beside him. He opened his eyes as they entered the passageway and Duff too was alert and on his feet.

  On seeing them, Lucas stood and gave a slight bow. “My lady, Laird.”

  “Sir Lucas,” said Fingal, with a nod.

  “Is there something I can do for ye?” Lucas asked, reaching his hand down to rub Duff’s head almost absently.

  “Ye can answer a few questions,” said Fingal.

  “Aye, of course. What would ye like to know?”

  Fingal glared at him. “I want to know everything that has happened from the moment ye first saw her. Everything. Do ye understand me? Even if ye fear it will shock or anger me, it will be better for ye to tell me now than for me to find out later.”

  “Aye, Laird, I understand completely. I swear to ye, I will not hide anything from ye. However, would ye mind if I started a bit before the moment I first saw her? It might help ye to understand my decisions.”

  “Then by all means do.”

  “I was in Edinburgh because my brother wants me married. Specifically, he wanted me to seek a betrothal with Moira MacNaughton.

  Gillian frowned. “Uh…has yer brother ever met her?”

  Lucas gave a mirthless laugh. “Nay. But by yer question, clearly ye have.”

  “Well, just once when we were at court. She is…uh…rather unpleasant.”

  “Perhaps it’s uncharitable to agree with ye, my lady, but I do. So ye see my dilemma. I did what my brother asked, I wooed her and in the process learned exactly how…unpleasant…she was. When I learned her father was looking for me, in order to offer a betrothal, I had to leave Edinburgh. It was one thing to tell my brother I didn’t wish to marry her and quite another to tell him I had been offered the betrothal he sought and I turned it down. That’s why I was on the road alone…” he grinned, “and probably traveling faster than the Galbraiths were.”

  His told them about how he’d freed Ailsa from the Galbraiths and that Ailsa had argued with him about returning to Edinburgh—a detail Ailsa had been honest about as well. “It would have been utterly foolish to go back,” agreed Fingal.

  “Aye. I may as well have just delivered her into the Galbraiths’ hands as do that. But it also would have been folly to tell her who I was. She never would have stayed with me willingly.”

  Fingal nodded. “Ye’re right about that.”

  “But, Laird, what do ye suppose would have happened to her? She might have been hurt trying to escape me. And if she did manage to get away, she’d be on her own and lost. She could have found herself in an even worse spot than she was in with the Galbraiths. If I had told her the absolute truth, I would have had to bind her to prevent any of that.”

  Ailsa had made the same point and Fingal couldn’t disagree. If he were absolutely honest with himself, he’d have probably done the same thing. “Aye. I fear that’s true as well.”

  “I had promised to keep her safe and so I did what I thought I had to do.”

  Fingal had only focused on what had happened. His wife’s sister had be lied to, taken captive and held for ransom. But the things that might have happened to her had Lucas Grant not done those things chilled Fingal’s very soul.

  Lucas told them about their days and nights on the road, including the fact that he had slept next to Ailsa, holding her close to keep her warm. “But, I swear, nothing else happened.”

  Ailsa had been honest about that too. “Well, I certainly don’t like the idea her sleeping so close to a man, but given the circumstances, I understand. What I don’t understand is why she never asked questions about ye. She simply accepted what ye told her. I can’t believe she didn’t ask a million questions.”

  Lucas smiled. “Aye, she can be a bit of whirlwind. But early on I figured out that if I asked the questions of her, I could keep her talking about nearly anything other than me.”

  Gillian chuckled. “I can see how that would have worked. Ailsa can talk the ears off ye if ye let her.”

  He smiled warmly. “She does like to talk, but I didn’t mind. Honestly, I enjoyed it. Watching her talk about something she loves or feels passionate about is…captivating.” He looked at Duff and rubbed the dog’s ears. “Ye’re one of her favorite topics, lad.”

  Fingal was struck by how genuine his admiration seemed.

  Gillian smiled. “I love that about my sister too, but many people just find it annoying.”

  That was true. Their mother had been especially harsh at times. She’d often cut Ailsa off after a few sentences, calling her a magpie. Ailsa wore her emotions openly and it was always obvious how much this had hurt her.

  Lucas finished by describing what had happened once they reached Castle Grant, endin
g with, “Through all of this, as each day passed, I grew to love her more and more but I realized we were running out of time. Once the ransom was paid, I knew I would lose her. Just as I couldn’t marry Moira MacNaughton, I couldn’t hold the woman I loved as a hostage. I tried to talk to William about it, hoping he’d be willing to discuss a betrothal with ye, but he had no time for me. So I decided to do what I should have done when I took her from the Galbraiths in the first place—bring her home. Even though I knew I’d end up here.” He motioned to the dungeon around him. “But I should warn ye, if ye plan to hold me until a ransom is paid, I’ll be here for quite a while. What I’ve done will infuriate William and I’m fairly certain he won’t pay a farthing to get me back.”

  Fingal frowned. “Speaking of yer brother, why did it take him so long to send me a message?”

  Lucas looked confused. “I don’t know what ye’re talking about. He sent it the day after Ailsa and I arrived at Castle Grant.”

  “Ye’re certain?”

  “Well, I didn’t see the messenger leave, but he said he was going to send it.”

  “Then his messenger must have walked to Edinburgh because I only received it six days ago.”

  Lucas frowned. “If that’s the case, he couldn’t have sent it right away.”

  “Aye. My thoughts exactly.” Fingal wasn’t sure what to make of Lucas Grant. He hadn’t known much about him other than that he’d trained with Laird MacPherson. The evening Fingal had received the message from Laird Grant, he’d attempted to learn more about them. He’d never spoken with Laird Grant, but he had seen him at the royal court several times. Generally those who knew anything about him thought him a bit rigid, but not completely unreasonable.

  All Fingal could discover about Lucas was that he was rumored to be a fine warrior and was free with his attention to willing lassies. Unfortunately, that rumor certainly hadn’t quieted his fears for Ailsa’s safety.

  “Sir Lucas, don’t read anything into this question because I’m not even close to making up my mind about ye yet. But, do ye think yer brother would consider a betrothal instead of a ransom?”

  Lucas blew out a long breath. “Honestly? I doubt it. At least, not if I asked for it. As I said, I was going to try the night we left. I realized that ye’d have to be home soon if ye weren’t already. I didn’t want to risk ye showing up at Castle Grant with the ransom and taking her before I’d at least had the opportunity to discuss it with him. But, frankly, he’s none too fond of me or the MacLennans—I figured the chances that he’d agree were slim at best. In the end, I decided that appealing to ye was the only way I had a hope of gaining her hand.”

  “And ye don’t think if ye achieve that, without his permission, it will infuriate him to the point of violence?”

  Lucas looked him directly in the eyes. “I don’t know for sure. Honestly, I don’t think it will provoke him into attacking ye, but I’m not certain. However, there is one way to be sure it won’t, and that is for ye to offer the betrothal instead of a ransom for me.”

  “How will that be different?”

  “My brother is generally a reasonable man. He and I have never gotten on well, but that’s beside the point. If I just marry Ailsa, after having gone around him to ye, ye’re right, he will be furious with me. But if ye offer a betrothal as a way to end hostilities between us and create an alliance, I’m certain he’ll consider it.”

  “And what if he still says nay?”

  Lucas scrubbed his face with his hands and looked as if what he was about to say caused him real pain. “Laird MacLennan, I love Ailsa with all my heart. I want to marry her and keep her by my side for the rest of her life. But, if William will not accept the offer of a betrothal, there is a possibility that he might seek vengeance if I defy him and marry her anyway. As much as this pains me to say it, I love Ailsa too much to bring any violence on her clan. It would kill my wee lass if a single MacLennan was injured because of our choices. Therefore, if ye were unable to convince him to accept a betrothal, and it became clear that my defiance would result in harm to yer clan, regardless of how it would rend my heart, I will not marry her.”

  Fingal was speechless. This man had just professed to love Ailsa, he referred to her as his wee lass and expressed the desire to have her by his side forever. And yet he would make the ultimate sacrifice and walk away from her if it was the only way to keep her and her clan safe. Fingal grudgingly admitted, “I can ask no more of any man.”

  “So ye’ll try to talk my brother into a betrothal?” The hope in his question was as apparent as Ailsa’s had been.

  “I don’t know yet,” said Fingal. “I’m going to think about it for a while before I make a decision. Even if ye didn’t love each other, putting an end to hostilities and gaining an ally in yer clan is reason enough to seek a betrothal. That ye do obviously love each other makes that even harder to ignore. But Lucas, one thing still puzzles me.”

  “What’s that laird?”

  “Ye said one reason ye took Ailsa captive was that yer brother would welcome the ransom.”

  “Aye.”

  “But in his message to me, yer brother didn’t ask for a ransom.”

  Lucas’s brows drew together. “Nay. He said he was going to send ye a ransom request.”

  “Ye also thought he’d sent it immediately and clearly he didn’t.”

  “If he didn’t ask for a ransom, what was in the message?”

  “He said he wanted a meeting with me to discuss things. He wrote that he’d be at the heath on our border, with ten men, under a white flag on the feast of St. Ursula.”

  “That’s three days from now.”

  “Aye. Although I expect he didn’t count on the situation being reversed before then, so I’m not sure it would be wise for me to attend that meeting.”

  “I can understand that,” said Lucas, shaking his head. “I don’t know why he didn’t tell me any of this.”

  Fingal didn’t either. If William Grant wanted a ransom, as Lucas thought he had, he only needed to ask for it. Therefore, Fingal could only assume the sole motive for not asking for a ransom—in fact what he’d worried about from the moment he received the message—was that Laird Grant didn’t want a ransom and was going to propose a betrothal instead. Fingal had fully intended to call on his allies to join him in a show of strength to avoid that.

  But now, Lucas was suggesting that William was unlikely to even consider a betrothal. Fingal didn’t know what to think. “Well one thing is clear. I do need to talk with yer brother. I’ll send a message agreeing to his request for a meeting.”

  “If ye need anything from me, if there is anything I can do, please let me know.” His offer seemed sincere.

  “I will. I have a lot to consider. We’ll leave ye for now.”

  “Ah, one thing, Laird. As much as I appreciate having the company of this beastie, I hate that he is as confined as I am. Perhaps it would be best to take him back upstairs.”

  Fingal was surprised. But perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Ailsa had maintained from the beginning that Lucas Grant was a good man. “I’ll send a guardsman for him shortly to see that he gets a run outside. But after that, I’ll have him brought back. Ailsa won’t agree to anything else. She thinks ye need him more than she does at the moment and there will be no talking her out of it.”

  Lucas smiled warmly. “Aye, sometimes she’s like a wee kitten who thinks she’s a cat-o-mountain. She wants to be heard and to protect what she loves.” His face split into a grin as he added, “And she doesn’t believe anyone can do it as well as she can.”

  Gillian smiled. “True enough. That’s my sister.”

  Fingal chuckled. “Ye know, I’ve never thought of it that way, but ye’re absolutely right. At twelve years old, she went toe to toe with me the night I arrived here, accompanied by the king’s messenger, with orders for Gillian to marry me immediately.”

  Lucas laughed, “I’ll just bet she did.” He sobered. “She’s a good woman and she loves fi
ercely. I know this whole situation has caused ye nothing but distress. However, I never would have met her, much less discovered how much I could love someone, if it hadn’t happened.”

  Fingal arched a brow at him. “Are ye telling me ye have no regrets?”

  He smiled, inclining his head. “Not quite. I regret the circumstances, but not the outcome…at least not yet.”

  Fingal frowned, but Gillian laughed. “Ye asked him to be honest with ye, my love. Ye can’t be angry when he is.”

  “I suppose not. We’ll go now, but I’ll keep ye informed as things develop.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Fingal and Gillian left the dungeon.

  When they were out of earshot, Fingal asked, “So, what do ye think?”

  “I think I understand why she fell in love. He’s bold and brash and shockingly irreverent occasionally. But he is also kind and thoughtful, and I suspect he makes her laugh.”

  “Do ye think he was telling the truth?”

  “Aye, I do. His story matched hers. What’s more, if his only goal was winning Ailsa, he would have lied about his brother’s potential reaction.”

  “I thought the same thing. But I’m not certain this will work out well with William Grant.”

  “Then ye’ll seek a betrothal?”

  “I want to speak to Laird Grant before I commit to anything.” At her frown, he added, “But Ailsa loves him and I’m fairly certain he loves her. From what I was able to learn about him in Edinburgh, he’s a fine warrior. I think everything else aside, he would be a good husband for her.”

  She nodded. “That’s what I thought too.”

  “And ye heard what he said—he enjoys hearing her talk. There may not be another man on earth who is better suited to her.”

  Gillian laughed. “She’s not that bad.”

  “Nay, of course not, I’m jesting. But I know ye and Fallon both have worried about me finding a husband for her who won’t crush her spirit.”

  She cast him a sidelong glance. “And when we do, he’s a Grant.”

  He sighed. “Aye. Only Ailsa.”