by D. K. Combs
Luckily, this was the king. His liege and friend.
"Yer missive said to ride with haste, so I have."
"As reliable as ever," the king commented. "How have the MacLeods been? I haven't heard them complain about you in a while."
Kane grunted. "Donna care to answer that."
The MacLeods were always searching for compensation for something. A missing cattle, a runaway maid, stolen sheep. It was always the same thing with them, and it was always Kane having the blame foisted on him.
"I'm guessing that means I'll be hearing from them soon, then," the king sighed, though there was a hint of humor to it. "That is fine with me. I always take joy out of watching Connor walk in here with the arrogance of a peacock, only to leave with lost hopes. How you haven't gone to war with them amazes me."
"I have too much on my hands to deal with those bastards."
"That is true." The king gave him an odd look, one that instantly set Kane on guard. "Whiskey? Bread and cheese? Grapes?"
"Nay." Kane leaned his forearms on the back of the chair facing the king. "What is it you called me here for? I rode for a fortnight to make it in time."
"Yes. Well." The king sat in his great purple chair and looked at Kane, consideration lighting his eyes. "I do not feel the need to justify my decisions, as I am your king. However, I will tell you because of your years of loyalty and our friendship."
A bad feeling went through Kane. The king never tried to spring stuff on him—in fact, the only time the king called him aside to speak to him personally for matters of business was...never. If something needed to be done, a missive was sent and the matter was taken care of.
Now, as Kane stood before King James, he wished he hadn't come with such haste. He wished he hadn't come at all, actually.
"What is it?"
"I have sent you two women. They should have arrived by now."
"Aye?" He knew very well that they had arrived. He'd told his men to escort them as soon as they were a night away from his estate. He hadn't thought anything of it when the king had sent a missive over it. Many a traveller stayed on Shaw territory. He was a known friend of the king and trusted beyond any laird in the highlanders. He might have an unsavory battle reputation, but that only added to his credibility with like-minded men. Not that Kane cared. As long as the visitors left him alone and didn't bother his people, he couldn't care less.
"They are very dear to me. Their parents passed some time ago; my aunt and uncle-in-law. Very kind, sweet, gentle-hearted people. I've sent their daughters to stay with you."
"Aye?"
The king sighed. "I am relying on your judgement to make the right decision in this." In what? "My cousins are very kind-hearted women. They are not ones for games. Although one does caters to her sister's every need. I feel that she needs...a reprieve from her sister."
"Aye?" The more King James talked, the more Kane felt like a lead weight was pressing on his shoulders.
"It is time you marry."
The lead weight couldn't have gotten heavier.
"Your Majesty—"
"I will take no ifs, ands, or buts on this matter. You will, of course, have time to become acquainted with both of my cousin's, though I hope you make the right decision."
"I canna marry right now, Your Majesty. The MacIntires are ready for war and my men and I will be gone for months. It's—"
"You can go to war after you woo one of my cousins," the king snapped. "I told them that they could decide who would marry you, and you will do your best to remember that despite our friendship I am your king, and you are my subject."
Kane ground his teeth together. "How long do I have to 'woo' one of yer cousins?" He was so furious that he couldn't ask it as the question it should have been.
"As long as is needed. You are to make sure they are content and have everything they need. For your compliance, there will be a reward as well, besides the happy marriage you will have."
"Aye."
"The Sinclairs come with lands to their names that are right on the border of the Lowlands."
"You've sent me Lowlanders?" he hissed. Lowlanders—especially females—were weak, frivolous. They only lived for court and gossip. There wasn't time for either of those in the Highlands. It was about survival, plain and simple. Lowlanders held no concept of that.
"Do not sound so disgusted," the king ordered. "Blaine is very strong in her will of things. She would make a fine wife for a Highlander. As would her sister, though her ways are more subtle. Do not generalize them."
"Aye," he growled.
The king stared at him.
"My cousin does that same exact thing," he commented fondly, reaching into one of his drawers.
"I donna know what yer talkin' about."
"That 'aye' thing you do. Although she does it when she's distracted. I fear you do it when you're not pleased about things, as you are now. Really, Kane. I've known you for years. Have I ever led you astray?"
"Nay," he bit out.
King James put a piece of parchment on the table, unrolling it.
"The girls are aware of the conditions of this arrangement. They had the choice to stay at court for a little while longer, or go to you and win your favor immediately. It must mean good things to come that they were so eager to see you, am I right?"
What kind of woman would chose to stay with the fiercest man in the Highlands when they could have stayed safe and happy at court? His lip lifted in a sneer. The women were going to have a jolly god damn good time with him.
"The woman that you do not choose will be sent to Lord Grayham."
King James's words chilled him to his very soul.
"No."
The king frowned. "You cannot 'no' me, Kane. What I say goes—"
"No," he snarled again. He didn't care that he was talking to the king. He didn't care that if King James wanted, he could have Kane's head on a pike. "I will not go through with this if that sick bastard is involved."
"Yes, you will," the king said stonily.
"I refuse."
His snarl, the word, and the message it carried was not lost on King James. The silence was tense. Kane was too furious to back down. Aye, this could get him killed. But he would not stand back and watch a woman go through what his sister did.
"You seem to have forgotten to whom you are speaking," the king said. "These are my cousins. My dearest family. They went through a terrible loss. If you think I'm some sort of monster to send one of them to Grayham, you're mistaken. He has changed his ways, Kane. He has learned his lesson."
"Aye, because I was the one who taught it to him! With my blood, fists, and weapons. Do these girls know of Grayham?" Surely they couldn't. No woman would ever go through with this if they did.
"They do," King James said. Kane gripped the chair tightly, shaking from the disgust he felt.
"Any woman foolish enough to go through with this is not worthy to be my wife."
"You have not even met the girls." He waved his heavily jeweled hand and Kane saw red.
"Is there anything else," he growled, forcing himself to stay where he was. One move and he'd have his hands around the king's throat. To even mention that bastards name in front of him...
Then to make him decide which woman was going to die because of his choice? Fury flooded him, robbing him of breath. What kind of sick, disgusting man did that to his cousins, cousins he claimed to love?
"But of course," King James said, grinning like he hadn't just infuriated the second most dangerous man in the lands. "Payment for your troubles, and the dowry of each girl."
"I donna want yer payment."
"It has been sent with the girls, so you haven't a choice." The king held up the parchment he'd spread out on the table. "This is the list of the things you will receive for each girl, depending on whom you decide."
Kane barely cast a glance at it.
"Take a look, Kane. It will not kill you."
He held the king's eyes and saw the challen
ge in them. He'd already pushed his luck by blatantly refusing a direct order. Keeping the infuriated sound of disgust to himself, he glanced at the parchment—then frowned. Though the second name was written in a way that it was hard to read, he caught the gist that there were two separate dowries.
"Why is Blaine's dowry thrice the size of her sisters?"
The king sighed.
"Let me be frank. The girls have a decision on who will go for your hand, but you also have an advantage. Time management. If by any chance Blaine does not want you, I hope that her dowry will encourage you to sway her decision."
"Ye' want me to pick Blaine." Not a question. A statement.
"Yes. I feel that she needs an unwavering man to bring her to heel."
"But ye' said they’re both kind and gentle. Ye'd have me send a gentle soul to the murderous hands of Grayham?" he snarled. "If ye' think any one needs a hand to heel them, ye' send them to Grayham. These lasses donna seem to need to be heeled—not in that way."
He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, the guilt. The regret.
"Do not fight me on this, Kane. The decision is essentially up to the three of you. I'm just here to supply the dowry and payment."
"And to send one of the lasses to their death."
"Grayham," the king snapped, finally letting some of his frustration show, "would not harm a cousin of mine. He knows full well the consequences should one of them be hurt."
"Oh, aye. Because that stopped him when my sister was involved. Ye'd think that being related to The Lion would scare him into listening—and we both know how that turned out."
"My cousins are not Annalise," the king said softly. "I know the loss of your sister has been hard on you, but he has learned his lesson."
"Aye," he said, voice flat. He rubbed at the tightness forming in his chest, the fury that was filling the cracks in the heart his sister's death had formed.
"If I should win the other sister’s hand, will ye' rebuke her?" Kane demanded. He didn't know the lass, had never heard her name before, but something about her, the situation she was being put into, made him want to protect her. The king was practically throwing her to the dogs and taking a favoritism to Blaine.
"No. I would not rebuke her. You understand that she has a small dowry, though, correct?"
Kane peered at the parchment. Aye, it was indeed small. Little gold, few sheep, a bull. Nothing that he needed. He gazed at the larger list, the one that filled up most of the parchment.
Quadruple of everything the other sister had, but the one at the bottom, the last piece to her dowry, made his mouth go dry.
"I see you caught onto what I added at the end," the king said, sounding like a cat who had caught the mouse. Aye, Kane was caught.
"You canna mean it. That canna be real," Kane said, reaching out to touch the finely written words. His finger trailed over the lettering, disbelief surging through him.
"Oh, it is real, and I do mean it." The king took the parchment away from his hand and rolled it up quickly, until just the bottom of it was showing. There were two lines there, both marked with a large, black X. “The dowers will, in no way, shape, or form, be modified, lessened, or added to. Payment for their care until they have decided will be sent to you monthly. The dowry of the chosen bride will be yours once they agree to the betrothal. Do you understand and agree to what I've just told you?"
He pulled back, staring at the king.
Shame. He felt so much shame, but he nodded. Blaine would be his chosen bride. He had no choice. The one thing he had been fighting for his whole life could be returned to him with Blaine's dowry. But the other sister...the other sister, this nameless face, would be sent to her death.
He knew it without a doubt in his mind that his decision would get her killed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Not without losing what was promised in Blaine's dowry.
Kane knelt down to sign where the king pointed.
He'd just signed a lasses life away.
THT | 4
"Saeran!" Her sister's shrill voice echoed through the stone-walled room, making her jerk awake. "Saeran, you've slept in and Brodrick is asking after you! Can you be any more irresponsible? Do you wish for Brodrick to complain about you to The Lion? You shall be sent away if they are as displeased with you as I am!"
"I'm sorry," she muttered, voice laden with sleep, rubbing a hand over her face. "The men...they do not turn in till late."
"That is no excuse! None. Now get up." Blaine tossed things at Saeran, and one by one they hit her in the face, falling in her lap. She looked down, heart heavy. Trews. The damn trews. She fisted them in her lap and looked at her sister beseechingly.
"Do I have to?"
Blaine froze, then slowly turned around, her eyes glaring daggers. "Are you being ungrateful?" Her voice lashed at Saeran with the daggers that were in her eyes. Every time Saeran objected to something, that was her retort. She reminded Saeran of her duty and Blaine's own sacrifice with those four words nearly every day.
Saeran shook her head, staring down at the bits of clothing.
"No, Blaine," she answered heavily.
"Good," she hissed. "Now get up. The men wish to do more training or whatever it is you do with them during the day. I must speak with the new cook about the meal for tonight. Oh, and when you're done, find me. Mid day I should be tending to the gardens with Gwen. Make sure you're clean," she said, grimacing. "The scent of you is appalling when you're done with those men."
She left the room in a flurry of skirts and Saeran groaned, falling back into the bed.
Aye, well, maybe if you spent all of your day sparing with men thrice your size, you'd know the pain of it all. Alas, her sister had no care to know her pain. She was steadily ignoring all of the hardships that were being put on her shoulders.
Shortly after arriving, people had begun questioning her presence here. Blaine had had the most ingenious idea of claiming that Saeran was here to be the laird's squire.
At first, Saeran hadn't known what to make of it, so she'd ignored it—until Brodrick grabbed her in the middle of cleaning dishes with the cook and threw her into the training field.
The shock, and horror, of what Blaine had done to her hit her with the full force of a hundred men bearing down on her—which they had been! Every day, for the past fortnight, she had been forced to get up in the early hours of dawn—much earlier than the rest of the clan—bathe in the small creek running just a few paces from the gardens, and then prepare for a day of what the men felt was mock battle.
It was definitely not mock. She felt every strike and impact, and she had yet to recover from the first day's bout. The wounds, bruises, and aches were piling on top of each other as the day went by.
Tears of frustration stung her eyes as she sat up, throwing the trews on the ground angrily. She hated this. She hated her role as a boy. She hated listening to her sister remind her of her place, hated being reminded how brave Blaine was for doing this for Saeran.
Her sister wasn't brave! She was a lady, damnit, fixing and weeding flowers and bossing other people to do her work. No one was here to stop her, and no one had the courage to tell her otherwise, so she was, quite frankly, running wild. It was still better than what she suspected would happen when the laird returned. He had yet to come back, and Saeran was beginning to have hope that he never would, although it was a foolish hope at best.
She sniffed back her tears and slid out of bed, shivering when cool highland air breezed through the room through the open window. It helped the pains. Like yesterday, she couldn't always escape to the creek to soothe her aching muscles. She scrubbed a hand over her face, pushing back her golden waves, and took a moment to just...relax.
With her shift and a blanket draped around her shoulders, she sat in the sill of the window, leaning against the edge.
The place was not in ruins as her sister and she had expected. None of the buildings were crumbling and every shack, building, and
stall was in the utmost of shape.
It was a sight to behold, aye.
She'd held the thought since she first saw the place, and with her time here, it hadn't changed.
The entire estate was glorious. The castle was large and sprawling, well-kept despite the lack of maids. There were three separate pastures that let sheep, cattle, and chickens graze, though the chickens were couped up in the stables with the horses. How the men here had managed to get the two animals to co-exist, she wouldn't know, but it attested to the stability of the estate.
The vibrant, green hills seemed to roll on forever. It was spring, so there were plenty of flower patches and wild burns roaming around. She knew where the gardens were, just out back of the kitchens were, and then farther off was her creek. It wasn't too far away from the castle, but enough that she had to take a horse to take her bathes if she wanted her absence unnoticed. She didn't mind the distance—not only was the creek a small safe haven for her, but it gave her time to practice her riding skills.
Another chilly breeze wafted into the room, pulling at her thick, golden hair as if to tell her to get away from the window. She sighed, casting one last glance over the vibrant land, and sulked her way to her clothes.
She hadn't had a chance to bathe the night before, so she was as dirty and gritty as ever. The only consolation was the fresh-scented clothes. At least Blaine had enough thought to provide a clean outfit for her every day.
Lord, but binding her breasts was becoming a chore. Not only was it hard to keep them pressed when she was “training”, but it only added to the aches and pains of what she went through every day. As she finished binding and began putting her hair in a bun, it took everything she had not to cry when her arms screamed at her for sticking pins in her cap to keep it to her head.
"I can't go through with this for another day," she moaned, even though she knew she didn't have a choice. She sucked back her frustration and squared her shoulders—then winced.
Today was going to be painful.
There wasn't a single person in the training area. Not there, not the stables, not even in the kitchen. For a moment, fear slid down her back. Oh, Brodrick was going to skin her a new one for being this late. She'd been good about getting up and making it to training at the right time. This was her first day, but it was just nearing mid day.