Lachlan grinned. “That’s better. Now you resemble a sweet, young woman, rather than a loon. When you’re downstairs, faced with Fraser and your uncle, think not on their wicked words but their misshapen backsides. ’Tis the last thing you will see of them before Darach kicks them off his land.”
Giggling, she took his arm, and they walked to the door. “I doona think Darach would be happy to know I think on Fraser’s bottom.”
“For certain. I can scarce wait to tell him.”
Caitlin laughed, but she quickly sobered as they approached the top of the stairs. Slowing, she bit her lip. “Does he know?”
“That you’re married to Fraser? Of course.”
“’Twas not a real marriage. I didn’t want it, and it was ne’er consummated.”
“Aye, he knows. We’ll get you out of it, lass. We just have to prove the ceremony was invalid.”
When they reached the hall, everyone but Darach turned toward her. She hesitated, stomach roiling. Lachlan tightened his grip on her elbow and ushered her toward the dais.
Hati and Skoll stayed intent on the enemy before them.
“Caitlin,” her uncle bellowed. “Come down here.”
“Nay,” Darach said. “She stays where she is. She is an honored guest in my keep.”
Lachlan positioned her next to Darach. She would have been glad to see him except for his stony expression—what she could see of it, anyway. He must be furious with her. Why hadn’t she explained the situation to him when she had the chance?
“Darach,” she whispered.
“Not now, lass.”
Aye, he was mad. There was an edge to his voice that was only there when he was trying to stay calm. She’d come to recognize it during the weeks she’d been with him.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she looked at the men before her. Fraser and her uncle frowned, while a third man with ginger-colored hair appraised her curiously. It made her want to stick out her tongue.
Instead, she smiled.
He inhaled audibly, and his eyes widened. Beside her, Lachlan snorted. Darach drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.
“Caitlin, this is Birk Anderson, a representative of the King. He has some questions for you.”
“Tell them we are married, wife.” Fraser looked even more repellent than she remembered, and she couldn’t help shuddering.
“’Tis untrue. The marriage was not consummated, and it can be annulled. Father Lundie and Edina said so.”
Darach turned to her. “You spoke to the priest and Edina about this but not to me?”
Despite his glare, she was relieved he’d finally looked at her—but also a wee bit flummoxed. “Well, I had to confess, now, didn’t I? It’s been years since I reconciled my sins. And Edina only mentioned it when she…when she… Well, ’twas a private conversation.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she remembered Edina chastising her for being intimate with Darach.
He stared at her a moment, nostrils flaring, then returned his gaze to Fraser. Caitlin felt dismissed, and her ire rose. She was the one who’d been drugged, beaten, and forced to marry a demon of a man. And now they haggled over her like a bag of oats.
“I willna go back. You canna make me. Father Lundie says I am a free person and can make my own choice on whom to marry.”
“Caitlin, hush…please,” Darach said, raising his hand to gently squeeze her forearm.
Her uncle glowered at her. “Aye, she’ll hush, or I’ll pull her tongue from her mouth.”
The warriors lining the walls bristled, some shouted out in harsh tones. Lachlan stepped forward angrily.
With deadly calm, Darach drew a vicious-looking dirk from within his sleeve. Sunlight from high above danced along the metal as he slowly played with the blade. “My goodwill only goes so far, MacInnes. Doona speak to her in such a manner. You are her uncle. You should shield her from harm, not cause it.”
Caitlin’s throat tightened with emotion. No one had ever defended her from her uncle before. All those years in his keep, he’d controlled her with threats and deprivation, and his clan had allowed it.
But not here. The MacKenzies protected her. Darach and Lachlan protected her.
With sudden clarity, she knew she was safe—surrounded by a clan who had claimed her, who were willing to shed blood for her.
She felt humbled, and a wave of thankfulness surged through her. She looked at her tormentors—her disgusting, feeble uncle and her pathetic, revolting “husband” who had to buy a wife. Then she gazed at Darach, his brawny shoulders, arms, and chest a testament to his strength, his shrewd gaze gleaming with intelligence, his posture one of power and control.
Relief and happiness bloomed in her chest, and she suddenly wanted to stick out her tongue again. This time at her uncle and Fraser. Instead, she just smiled.
Fraser watched her, his eyes gleaming like a rabid wolf’s. The madness there made her smile fade. He would use trickery to kill the people she loved.
“Caitlin, tell Master Anderson how you came to live with your uncle,” Darach said. “How he…saved you from the fire that killed your parents. ’Tis a story that deserves telling.”
She saw a glance pass between him and the King’s man. Why would they want to know about the fire? It had naught to do with her marriage.
“’Tis not necessary,” her uncle protested.
“On the contrary. She wouldnae be here if not for you. For that, you have my thanks.”
The gratitude toward her uncle grated, even if it was for saving her life. The only reason he’d even fed her was so she’d be healthy enough to wed a man of his choosing. Fraser hadn’t been the first prospective groom to look her over, but he’d certainly been the worst.
She sifted through her memories, trying to contain the grief that always rose when she thought about her parents’ death. “I ne’er met my uncle ’til I was sixteen. I grew up on a farm with my mother and da west of MacInnes land and didn’t know my father had given up the lairdship to marry my mother. The night my uncle arrived, a terrible fire broke out in our cottage as we slept. My parents were killed in the flames. I would have died too, but my uncle saved me. Afterward, he took me to his keep. ’Twas a terrible time.”
Anderson turned to MacInnes. “Do you know how the fire started?”
Her uncle shifted his stance and clasped his hands around his belly. “Maybe an untended candle or a spark from the hearth. The lass was verra excited and could have knocked something o’er.”
Caitlin gasped. “Doona say such a thing unless you know it’s true. I couldnae have killed my parents.”
Darach took her hand and rubbed her palm with his thumb. “Do you remember anything else? Any of the men behaving oddly or loitering in places they shouldn’t?”
“Are you implying my men started the fire?” MacInnes asked. “I assure you they had naught to do with it. They were the first to notice the flames and report it to me. I ran into the blaze to save the lass at great risk to myself.”
Darach let go of her. He looked relaxed, but Caitlin had the sense of a great, hunting cat readying itself to pounce. “How did you reach her? It must have been hard going—the heat, the smoke.”
“I knew where she slept. She’s a wee lass. I carried her out.”
“You thought to save her before your brother?”
“I called out to him but he didn’t respond. Afterward, I took the lass back with me and gave her a home.”
“You locked me in at night and put a guard on me during the day,” Caitlin said.
“I fed and clothed you.”
“One worn arisaid and two chemises. The food was even worse.”
“I tried to find her a decent husband, but as you can see, she’s verra disagreeable.”
She pointed at Fraser. “You call that decent?”
Fraser’s lips curle
d up in a snarl. “You’ll come to regret those words, wife.”
Darach flicked a finger, and Hati and Skoll lunged toward the men, hackles up.
With burning eyes, Fraser lunged back at them. Caitlin knew she witnessed madness.
Anderson kept one eye on the hounds, the other on her. “Had you met Fraser before the ceremony?”
“Twice. And twice I said I wouldnae marry him, or anyone else of my uncle’s choosing, but he made me do things by hurting one of the maids and some of the animals I cared for. I ran away, but they caught me. I was locked in my room after that.”
“The lass hasn’t a coherent thought in her head,” MacInnes said. “’Twas done for her own safety. And ’tis my right to discipline my servants and livestock.”
“Caitlin too?” Darach asked, eyes hooded.
“Aye, she is my property.”
A heavy silence fell, filled by her uncle’s wheezing and the dogs’ low growls. Shame flooded Caitlin, and she cast her gaze down. She knew the feeling was misplaced, but it wouldn’t leave her.
“Father Lundie,” Darach called out.
She glanced up to see the priest making his way toward the dais.
“It must be determined whether the ceremony between Caitlin and Fraser was valid in God’s eyes.”
“Of course it was valid!” said Fraser.
“Not if she was forced,” said Lachlan.
“I ne’er touched the lass,” MacInnes protested. “Ask the priest, Father MacIntyre. She was unmarred.”
Father Lundie stood with the other men now, and shook his head. “Father MacIntyre is strong in heart and mind, but he’s blind as a bat and nearly deaf. He shouldnae be performing a wedding ceremony.”
“Fraser hit me, I remember that,” Caitlin said. “Kicked me too.”
“’Twas after the ceremony, not before. She hadn’t been touched when she said her vows.” Fraser gave her that ugly, possessive stare.
Anderson’s brow crinkled. “What do you mean, lass? About remembering?”
“Well, some of it is blurry, but I remember being given a dress to change into and throwing it out the window. I was kept in my room and then… I doona rightly know. Naught is clear ’til I met the MacKenzies.”
“The herbs,” Darach said. “MacInnes admitted he gave Caitlin calming herbs. To…soothe her. She was not in her right mind when she stood before the priest.”
“’Twas not meant to harm her, only to make things easier,” her uncle said. “Now I know better. It willna happen again, especially if you marry the lass.”
Her mouth dropped open. Marry the lass? Is that what this was all about? Aye, she could see it. The MacKenzie land and wealth would have called to her uncle like a siren to a sailor.
Panic rose again and this time she couldn’t stop it. If Darach was forced to marry her, he would never forgive her, and then she had no hope of…well…marrying him.
She closed her eyes, knowing her logic made no sense. Then he answered, and her panic abated.
“You get ahead of yourself, MacInnes. We must settle the matter of Caitlin’s marriage to Fraser first.”
’Twas a game of words he played. Darach would never let himself be trapped in matrimony. He would make her uncle admit he drugged her and have the wedding to Fraser invalidated.
Her shoulders sagged in relief.
“The matter of the herbs is troubling,” Father Lundie said. “The vows are void if she knew not what she pledged.”
“I agree.” Anderson turned to Fraser and her uncle. “The contract is hereby negated. All goods paid to MacInnes must be returned, and, Fraser, your marriage to Caitlin MacInnes is annulled.”
“Over my dead body,” the Fraser laird spat out. His hands curled like claws.
Darach smiled. “That can be arranged.”
Fifteen
The portcullis rattled and squeaked as the heavy iron grill opened in front of Laird Fraser. Ten armed and angry MacKenzies guarded him. In the distance, across the clearing, Fraser’s men gathered on their horses in a small group.
Darach stood three paces to the laird’s right, fists clenched and jaw tight, with Anderson and Oslow behind him. Hati and Skoll growled softly nearby, ready to rip apart their master’s enemy.
Darach’s control was slipping the longer Fraser was in his home, and he’d had to stop himself several times from pulling his sword and gutting the degenerate bastard.
“You look ready to kill me, MacKenzie,” Fraser said, eyes gleaming. “Will you forego your honor and put an arrow in my back as I walk away? Or slay me where I stand, unarmed and defenseless?”
Darach took a moment to unclench his fists. “Nay. I promise free passage through MacKenzie territory for you and your men. You have my word.”
Fraser nodded, then stepped closer. Darach’s men also stepped closer.
“Then now’s a good time to say this: I plan to kill you, MacKenzie. And the woman will watch. Then I’ll take her to wife and spread those thighs. Before the year is out, she’ll have borne me a son and all who bear your name will be dead. You have my word.”
The MacKenzies around him growled in outrage, the ringing of their drawn swords filling the air. Darach wanted to growl too, wanted to snarl like his hounds and use his bare hands to pummel Fraser into the ground. Instead, he inhaled deeply and held up his hand to calm his men.
“And I say this, Fraser. You leave my land living for the last time. When next we meet, I will cleave your body in two and feed your guts to the pigs. Your clan will be cleansed of filth and depravity and left to honest men and women. You will ne’er threaten me and mine again. With the King’s man as witness, our truce is broken. Leave while you still can.” He drew his sword and pointed it at Fraser’s throat. “Or I’ll take your head, honor be damned.”
Fraser’s lips drew back in what might be called a smile—one as bestial as Hati’s and Skoll’s—then he slunk under the portcullis like a rabid dog.
Darach signaled a number of his warriors. “Follow them to the border.”
He stood watching, sword out, until every last Fraser disappeared into the forest; then he turned to Anderson. “You may inform the King that the MacKenzies and the Frasers are at war.”
* * *
Caitlin sucked in a breath and stood up from the steps leading to the keep as the group of warriors in the distance split apart and Darach appeared, marching toward her, Oslow and Anderson on his heels, the dogs racing ahead of him. She couldn’t make out his features, but she’d recognize that stride, the way he held himself, anywhere.
“Lachlan!” she called out.
After a moment, Lachlan appeared at the open door to the keep and looked across the bailey toward Darach. “It is done,” he said.
“What’s done? What do you mean?” But he’d already turned away and reentered the keep.
She hovered on the bottom step, frightened and unsure. When the dogs reached her, she wrapped her arms around them.
If Darach or the clan should come to harm because of her, she would never forgive herself. And why hadn’t her uncle left with Fraser? Why was he still here?
Darach was close enough for her to see him clearly now, and she swallowed nervously at his stony expression. What had he done? Killed Fraser? Declared war? Agreed to send her back?
When he held out his hand to her, she sobbed and ran to his side. He pulled her tight under his arm and kept walking. “You’ve told me everything, aye? You’ve left naught out?” he asked.
“You know everything. Maybe even more than I do.”
He nodded and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry they put you through that, sweetling. You will ne’er be hurt or abused in such a way again.”
They reached the steps and the dogs bounded up ahead of them. Caitlin lifted her skirts and ran to keep up as Darach took the stairs two at a time. At th
e top, he stopped abruptly and turned to her. He looked so serious that her heart stuttered. Then he stroked a hand down her cheek, and she melted.
“Caitlin—”
Lachlan stepped out of the doorway and frowned at them. “’Tis only half-done. For heaven’s sake, you can ask her later. And doona let her uncle know your intentions right away, although ’tis not hard to guess with that look on your face.”
Darach grunted and released her, then followed Lachlan into the darkened keep.
“Ask me what?” Caitlin asked as she trailed after them. “And what’s half-done? What are you talking about?”
But neither man responded.
When her eyes adjusted to the dim light after the brightness outside, she saw the dais had been removed and a large table with a bench on each side had been laid with food and drink. Her uncle sat facing her, at the edge on one side, eating and drinking like a starving hog. Father Lundie sat beside him with an empty plate, sipping slowly from his cup, looking like he was trying not to breathe through his nose.
The door banged shut, and she turned to see that Oslow and Anderson had followed them in. Other than Gare and Brodie standing guard at the door, everyone else had left the great hall.
“Master Anderson, will you sup with us?” Darach asked. He indicated the seat beside Father Lundie.
Caitlin slowed. She did not want to eat with her uncle, but then Darach called her name too. “Caitlin, sit next to me, please.”
He stood beside the bench waiting for her. She dragged her feet to the table after she caught his pointed stare and sat down opposite Anderson. Darach sat beside her, between her and Lachlan, with Lachlan opposite her uncle.
Oslow took up position behind Darach while Edina served the meal, then bustled back to the great hearth, where warming dishes were laid out.
When her uncle spat the bones from the partridge onto the rushes that covered the floor, Caitlin pushed her trencher of greens and fowl away. Her stomach would only revolt at the food.
“You have much to thank me for, Niece,” MacInnes said after he finished his ale in great gulps, the drink spilling over the sides of his cup into his beard.
Highland Promise Page 18