“You have such blind faith in a brother that you don’t even know. I would not be so trustworthy.”
Candace’s brow wrinkled. “You would not understand. I suppose I’ve been taught to trust him. You trust Nathaniel, don’t ye?”
“Aye, but I have known him since the day he was born. You haven’t seen your brother, in what, ten years?” Isabel argued.
“Aye, a very long time. Still, I hear stories about his accomplishments, and Father says one day he shall return to our clan.”
“You may be disappointed when he does return. I would not be so expectant of this wondrous brother you have set him to be.”
“Father says he is training to better protect us when he becomes laird.”
“Just because he’s training to be laird doesn’t mean that he will be sweet natured or forbearing.” Isabel decided to drop the subject for now and moved away from her friend.
Candace clapped her hands together. “Oh, I forgot to tell ye my news. Father gave his consent for me to choose my own husband. I’m so relieved, because I had thought he might betroth me to Irving Dunmore to end our clan’s feud. The Dunmore clan is our enemy, but Father assured me that he never planned to do that.”
“You’re fortunate to have a father who cares.”
“‘Tis a good thing ye know how to use a dagger well, Isabel. You may need to use them to protect yourself against Nigel. I shall like ye to teach me your skill.”
Isabel searched her eyes for sincerity. “If you really would like to learn … but I don’t want anyone to know about it.”
“I want to learn. Why do ye keep it secret? Uncle Stan wouldn’t mind. He’d be proud of—”
“I know he won’t mind, but I really don’t wish anyone to know. It isn’t something a woman does, Candace, throwing daggers like a man. ‘Tis very unladylike. Men would scoff at my attempt, or laugh their arses off.”
“That may be so. We can have Russell take us to the wood and practice there. Uncle Stan won’t know, or anyone else for that matter.”
Isabel laughed for the first time in weeks. “Uncle Stan would find out. Do ye honestly believe he doesn’t have us watched? After our last visit, he swore that he would never leave us unattended again. Mayhap you’re aright, if Russell takes us, we can go.”
“I’m so pleased you’re here, Isabel.”
“Me, too, Candace. I haven’t felt safe for such a long time. I had to keep my chamber door locked even during the day.” She hugged Candace again.
“You’re safe here, and we shall have a nice long visit.”
Isabel nodded. The tension eased from her shoulders, and she released a sigh of relief.
“Call a bath for me, and once I’m clean, we’ll go and see Aunt Mabel and Uncle Stan.” Her friend left her alone, and Isabel removed her clothes, trying not to think of Nigel. For now, she didn’t have to worry about his attacks, or look over her shoulder every waking moment. But how much longer could she avoid him?
Chapter Two
Galloway, Scotland
August 1219
The forest’s tranquility should have arrested the thoughts racing through Douglas’ mind, but it did little to stifle his discontent. Douglas Kerr sat on his warhorse in deep reflection. The sun blazed down as he rode along the trail. His father’s missive directed that he take a wife. Morna Farley was the chosen lady. His father’s command instilled hatred for the duty, yet his father’s order would be done whether he agreed or not.
Douglas ripped the missive, knowing if he contested the edict, he would forfeit his position as laird over the Kerr Clan. She was certainly a beauty—if such a thing was important. He hadn’t deemed it a necessary quality, although he hadn’t considered taking a wife before. He arrived at her keep, feeling anxious. This day he would ask for her hand as his father willed. Her acceptance would assure his future, and that of the Kerr Clan.
He entered the great hall wearing a frown and feeling repugnance at being forced. Lord Farley, her father, stood by the hearth and seemed gladdened to see him.
“Douglas, come and rest. I’ve been expecting your arrival. I received a message from your father saying ye would come.”
“Lord Farley, I am here to request Morna’s hand and—”
“Ye have it,” he said readily. “I’m fond of the Kerrs, and the alliance will benefit both our clans. ‘Tis a proud day for us all.”
Douglas reflected on his first encounter with Morna. He’d met her at the Shelmore’s, a border clan whom had the allegiance of many clan, during a feast the month before. He had assessed her character, and she seemed agreeable. Mayhap she would make him a good wife.
“I’d like to search her out and make the request myself, if ye don’t mind.”
Lord Farley smiled. “Aye, as you wish. She might be in her chamber. Go, lad, and welcome to the family.”
Douglas bowed, left the great hall, and took the stairs. He reached her chamber door, and startled when he heard men’s voice through the wood. Morna was in jeopardy. Douglas threw the door open and bounded inside. His intended wife fornicated in the arms of not one, but two men. The sight of their naked, entwined bodies sickened him. The trio hadn’t heard his entrance, and their position left nothing to his imagination. She pleasured one by using her mouth, while the other pleasured himself by pumping his body against hers. He frowned, disbelieving his eyes, and quickly turned to leave.
He didn’t stop to explain his hasty retreat to anyone. He was thankful that he’d requested to seek her out. If she’d been sent for, he wouldn’t have found out about her promiscuousness. Morna wasn’t meant to be his wife, and he would tell his father so, when next he saw him.
Discharging the affair, Douglas returned to the Highlands with his cousin, Brendan, in tow. Morna sent him missive after missive imploring his return, but he hadn’t responded, nor had he cared what her messengers replied. The only contact he could bring himself to have with her family, was to send a message to Lord Farley explaining that she wouldn’t adapt to his demanding lifestyle. He’d softened the dismissal because Lord Farley didn’t deserve the harsh words he really wanted to impart.
On the trail, performing sentry duty for the MacKinnon clan, he wasn’t sure why he thought about Morna this day, but his reflections ceased when his cousin shouted.
“Douglas, halt.”
Brendan scowled, probably for his stupidity, because he hadn’t paid attention to their travel.
“You’re going the wrong way, man. Where’s your mind this day?”
“Faigh muin, where are we headed?”
“I thought we would stop by and see Ellic.” Brendan looked at him expectantly.
“Nay, can’t we go another time? I just want to get home.”
“You’re just sore ‘cause you didn’t marry that English lass.”
His cousin, Brendan, shoved his arm in a quip, giving him a half-hearted frown that could be taken for a smile. Douglas shook his head. If only Brendan knew the truth of the matter.
“Nay, I didn’t want to marry her.”
“You lie, she was too beautiful to let go so easily.”
“Nay, ‘twas her character that I didn’t like. I suppose I’ll settle for one of our lassies though.” Douglas laughed, trying to make light of it.
“Why would you want to be nagged by a harping wife?”
“My father wishes me to marry. Don’t you want a wife? I’d get started on it—it’ll take years to find a woman who would put up with your surliness.” Douglas laughed at his baiting. His cousin wasn’t one to enjoy any kind of ribbing.
“I’ve more important matters to consider. I’ll never take a wife. I enjoy my freedom too much. Colin’s out of his mind, putting up with Julianna’s carping—”
“He loves her. Ye know how he feels about her, and you do care for your sister-in-law. You’ll not tell me otherwise.”
“Aye, I do,” Brendan admitted. “Though she’d try my patience were I married to her. Ye want to find a woman like her? You’
ll need be very charming, and I know how you like to tease the lassies. I don’t have it in me to be charming like you.”
“Not if you continue to scowl all the time. You’ll not even get a tumble from the loose women you visit.” Douglas’ jest made his cousin grin.
“Don’t worry for me, I get my fair share of women.”
Had Brendan sensed his quiet manner on the way home? Douglas usually did laugh or jest, but he had acted differently since their visit to the Lowlands. Brendan wasn’t ordinarily one to converse on the subject of women, but he must have caused his cousin’s concern by being withdrawn.
“Aye, you’re aright. I don’t know why I’m thinking such foolish thoughts.”
“‘Cause you’re a fool, ye arse.” Brendan shoved him again then nudged his horse into a gallop.
Douglas kicked his horse’s flanks. “Aye, I’m an arse, more than ye know,” he muttered, riding swiftly to catch up.
He stopped suddenly, jarred when Brendan slowed his mount and held up his arm.
Brendan turned his horse. “Someone comes.”
Douglas couldn’t see the rider in the distance, and was amazed at his cousin’s ability. Brendan’s keen hearing must have picked up the sound of a horseman ahead. Douglas scanned the landscape, and finally saw Gilbert riding toward them.
“Douglas,” Gil shouted.
“Gil, what goes?” Douglas shouted back.
Gil halted his mount when he reached his side, and his face looked bleak. Douglas waited for him to catch his breath.
He’d taken Gil under his wing for the past few years, yet he still needed more training to turn him into a fierce Kerr warrior. Gil wanted to be a scholar, and always messed around with herbs and medicinal potions. He liked to solve the unknown, riddles he’d called them. Of course, Douglas and Brendan teased him about it often, calling him sissified.
“I’ve word from Cedric. Your father is ill. It doesn’t bode well. You’ve been called home.”
“Has he died, Gil?” Douglas almost couldn’t get the words out.
“Not yet, but he’s likely to. Ye know how old he is.”
“Brendan, do you want to ride along?”
“Aye, of course I do. It’s been a long time since we visited the Kerr clan.”
Douglas nodded, kicking his mount into a gallop, stirring up a trail of dust. Several MacKinnon and Kerr warriors rode with him. The warrior’s faces showed their somber regard for the journey. A laird was dying—a solemn occasion indeed if there ever was one.
Douglas clearly recalled the images of his mother, father, and sister, as he rode toward home. Home. The keep and clan were his future; he knew he must eventually face it.
A few hours later, Douglas approached the drawbridge and felt his tension ease when he noted the sentry posted outside the walls. He walked into his father’s keep and saw the sullen looking faces. He glanced around the hall for his mother. The hall hadn’t changed in the last ten years. Everything remained as it always had. The wooden out coves etched in an ancient scroll design still existed on the left side. The same banners welcomed visitors. Two wolf hounds lay beside the hearth, and several ladies congregated at the other end of the hall. All seemed normal.
Striding to his mother, he took her hand, gently squeezing it in greeting. “I came as quickly as I could. Is my father still …”
“Aye, you’ve arrived in time. You should go to him.” Shelagh kissed his cheek. “I’ve missed ye, Douglas. Come and rest yourself before you go to him.”
He sat at the trestle table, looking fondly about him. Brendan took the seat next to him, but remained quiet.
“Where’s Candace? Is she well?”
“Aye, she’s well, but she went to the Gordon’s for a visit. She has a friend there and wanted to see her. With your father being ill, I thought it best she be away.”
“I should go to him.”
Shelagh stopped him with a touch to his arm. “Await, he’s not doing so well. Try not to rile him, Douglas.”
“I won’t, Mother, I’m not a barbarian.”
“Hah, ye could have fooled me. Look at the size of you. Ye know how your father is, so try to be appeasing. Mayhap you should wear the Kerr plaid?” She reached for a folded plaid that sat on a bench beside the stairway.
Douglas accepted the plaid, and as he strode up the steps to his father’s chamber, he replaced the MacKinnon plaid he’d worn during his extended stay amongst that clan with the Kerr’s. After dropping the extra plaid outside the door, he pushed the door open, and went inside.
It was hot as purgatory and dark as night inside his father’s chamber. Damn, his father really was ill. He wanted to deny it, and hoped it seemed worse than it was, and that it was just a passing ailment. Before making his presence known, he assessed his father. The Kerr laird aged considerably since he’d last seen him, at least five years ago. His father’s hair was nearly whitened now, and his skin wrinkled with age. Lying in the bed, he seemed frail, and not the strong warrior that Douglas remembered.
“Douglas, come.” His father’s voice barely reached him from across the large chamber.
He stood beside his father’s bed. “Father?” Douglas didn’t want to be affected by Thomas’ state, yet he couldn’t help but be so.
“I’m dying, and not as a warrior should.”
Douglas cringed. “Ye must not think such thoughts—”
“I have a few things to say before I pass. ‘Tis time ye returned and took your rightful place. I shouldn’t have sent you to my nephew’s, but ye received better training there.”
Douglas didn’t want to hear his father’s regrets. He knew why he had sent him away, and truth be told, he hadn’t resented him for it. “Father—”
“Nay listen, I must tell ye, I’m proud of you. You turned into a fine warrior, Douglas. We need a strong laird to protect and lead our clan. I must talk to you about …” His breath hitched and he coughed.
Douglas grew concerned. “You need rest. I’ll come back later and—”
“Nay listen.” His father grasped his tunic. “I had to send ye away, because if you remained, you would have learned all.”
“Learned what?” He released his tunic from his father’s grip.
“You know of our feud with the Dunmores. It began the year before ye were born. Your ma didn’t want to marry me, but I don’t regret it. On the day we wed, Robert Dunmore abducted Marykate. When she returned, she was carrying you. She pled for her return to Robert, but I couldn’t let her go.”
Incredulous, Douglas’ voice clipped, “Are ye saying that I’m not your son?” He leaned forward, wanting to grasp his father’s tunic as his had been grabbed a moment before. He held motionless, waiting for his father’s denial.
“Damn it, aye. After ye were birthed, your mother killed herself. She’s resting in unholy ground, she is. Jumped off Kilbrun Ridge rather than be wed to me. Broke me heart that day. Robby didn’t care for her. He told me to keep ‘er, that she was nothing but rabble.”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“She loved Robert. I don’t know how that came to be, because she was promised to me from the time she was a wee lass. I sent ye away, lest you learn about it. Now that I’m dying, you must know all. Don’t trust the Dunmores. Robert fueled the feud with lies, and his son, Irving, would like nothing better than to renew it.”
Douglas’ life whirled in his mind. His mother wasn’t the woman he thought her to be and his father wasn’t his father. Good God, he was a Dunmore. His stomach coiled, wanting to wretch. His ire increased with each assertion, making his nose flare and his anger boil within his veins.
“I’m not your heir. Find someone else to care for your clan. You don’t need me.” He wanted to go and never return. He turned to do just that, when his father stopped him with his hard voice.
“Ye must stay. You would have been my son if your ma didn’t go with Robert that day. My son!” Thomas wheezed, before continuing, “I’ve no one else, only you
, Douglas. The clan is depending on ye. You’ll just walk away?”
“Why should I stay? I’ve never belonged here. Never felt that I … I want to kill the Dunmores for what they’ve done.”
“I always cared for ye, Douglas. I didn’t want anything to happen to you. That’s why I sent you away. It never mattered that you weren’t my blood son. Ye have always been my son.”
He returned to the bedside. “You cared?” Thomas nodded. Douglas sighed. “I’ve always thought that I’d be laird of the Kerrs. I was even willing to marry that harlot, Morna, as you asked.”
“You didn’t marry her?”
“She’s not worthy to be a Kerr. I do want to stay, but if—”
“If you say she’s not worthy then I believe ye. You will be laird, Douglas.”
“The Dunmore clan will pay for what they’ve done. You’ve my word, Father.”
“It does me old heart good to hear ye call me such. I’ve never wanted to tell you … but, son, I knew ye deserved the truth. I was wrong to keep it from you. I don’t care about the Dunmores. Don’t take my feud into your heart. I need you to care for the clan. That is of more import.”
His father closed his eyes. “Bring your sister home for my burial. I want my children home, and promise to take care of Shelagh. She was a good mother to ye.”
“Aye, I will. When do you want me to leave?”
“At all haste. When you return, I’ll be gone from this realm.”
“Is there no way you might improve?”
“Nay, son.” His father opened his bleary eyes. “My time has come. I’ll face it as I must. Trust Cedric, he’s a good lad. I might run out and get into a battle with our enemies. I wish to die as warrior, not in my bed like a damned Sassenach.”
Douglas chuckled. “It would be just like you. I’ll leave at first light to get Candace. It should only take me a week, mayhap I’ll return before …” His voice trailed off when he realized that his father had fallen into a disquieted sleep.
After giving him a pat on the shoulder, Douglas returned to the hall to talk to his stepmother.
Claimed By A Charmer (The Pith Trilogy) Page 2