Romancing the Rose

by Mary Anne Graham

  “I was forced to commit to a legal arrangement with Flora,” Ram hissed, pushed beyond his limits. His eyes popped open and when he entered the Garden of Eden in hers, he lost his battle to withhold the truth. “My father and Dair MacKenzie were mates as youths and were betrothed at the same time to two different women. My father fell in love with Dair’s betrothed and she with him. ‘Twas as instant and as undeniable as …” his voice broke. He had to take a deep breath for control. “My Da begged Dair to change brides but Dair refused, as was only proper. But Da showed up in Dair’s room that night with a signed note, binding him and his heirs, pledging that upon him becoming laird, at Dair’s demand, Da would give Dair all the Sutherland land.”

  “What?” Rose asked, shocked, but unable not to believe him.

  “Dair said that he’d nae planned to call in the note, but that he couldna stand by and see Flora destroyed. He said this note bought my father the bride he wanted, and it would either do the same for Flora–or ‘twould bring her a fine estate that would have the lads battling for her hand.”

  “So you had no choice,” Rose said. “You couldn’t lose your family’s lands, your heritage, your people’s heritage. “

  “Of a certainty, that weighed heavy,” Ram agreed. “But more than that-much more–I want to preserve my father’s honor. The morning after the wedding ceremony, when I have wed Flora and consummated the marriage, I get that note back. The only thing I shall celebrate of the union will be burning that note.”

  Rose heard the urgency in his voice, the desire to erase what he saw as his father’s shame. And she loved him so much that his heavy heart became hers. She wrapped her arms around him. He grabbed her and rolled them so they lay side by side, embracing in silence for long, long moments.

  When he spoke, his voice sounded warm and fuzzy and disgruntled and bewildered–all at once. “I’ve no notion of what possessed me to tell you this. Well, that’s nae quite right. I know exactly what possessed me, but I canna believe that I gave into it.”

  “You should have told me sooner,” Rose said. “It solves nothing but I do feel better about the cave and what I let you–I mean, what we did.”

  Ram shook his head, at her, at himself, at everything. “I’ve told no one. I did not want talk of my Da’s dishonor to spread further. I meant to pay for it and destroy the evidence.”

  He sprang to his feet, helped Rose up, and paced. She tried to brush off her dress and repair her hair while she watched him stop and randomly hit or kick things. He looked as bad as she, if not worse, but he was too fractious to care.

  “I shan’t say a word of this, Ram,” Rose said. “You have my promise and you can trust me in this.”

  “I trust you in everything,” Ram said, “and I can not understand that. I’ve never trusted a woman before.”

  “Then we were each other’s first in very different ways,” Rose said.

  That stopped him cold, that one word. “Were?”

  “Yes,” Rose said.

  “But now you understand,” Ram said, “you’ve said as much.”

  “While that’s true,” Rose replied, “it changes nothing.”

  “It changes everything,” Ram insisted. “It has to.”

  “I can’t be your mistress,” Rose said.

  “Mistress?” Ram asked, like he’d not heard the word before. He opened his mouth to disagree, to argue, cajole–hell, maybe even to beg, but he shut it again. The truth in her eyes and the bond between them allowed for only one answer. “While that is not what you would be to me, to us, ‘tis how you would appear to the world. You are right that I could not seek false honor for my father by bestowing real dishonor upon you.”

  Rose blinked, gathered herself, and said–in a voice that was bright enough to break, “Then we should return to camp and endeavor not to spend more time in each other’s presence than is necessary.”

  “Aye,” Ram replied, following her back to camp without touching her in any way. If he’d so much as put a hand to the small of her back he’d have broken. He’d have thrown himself at her feet to plead with her to accept the sacrifice he could not ask her to make.

  When they returned to camp Flora waited just beyond the circle of warriors who’d guarded entry to the site, exactly as instructed. She took one look at the pair and flew into a high rage at Ram, screaming, threatening and shaking her fists. At one point she seized Ram’s arm and shook it like a wet dog after a bath. That’s when Ram snatched his arm back, bade her to shut her ignorant mouth, and walked off in the opposite direction, toward the makeshift horse corral. He didn’t stride or strut. In fact, he hobbled like an auld man trying to hold to his dignity as his strength deserted him.

  David and Hugh watched the drama silently, standing slightly apart and separate from the others, but as Rose walked away, heading towards her wagon, they intercepted her. “What the hell did you do to him?”

  In answer, Rose burst into tears and ran to her wagon.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next two days passed without a single meeting between Ram and Rose, unless long, sorrowful looks counted. They counted to Flora, who took to proclaiming–at all times, at odd times, and at times that made no sense–that “her Ram’s” silly fancy of “the English witch” passed faster than she’d thought possible. How meaningless and temporary it had been, Flora said.

  When Flora started one of her soliloquies, Ram’s warriors tended to snort and stomp off. The old men would listen and nod their support, wishing they believed her words rather than their eyes. The women found Flora’s impromptu turns as entertaining and entirely fictional as a play, a tragedy, of course. It could be naught else, for they all watched their laird shrink a bit, wither a bit, and die a bit with each passing hour.

  Everyone but Flora knew that if Ram’s meaningless and temporary attachment for the English Rose continued, Flora might be a widow before she became a bride.

  Once during the remaining two days of the trip, the clan grew hopeful they’d see a burst of Ram’s fighting spirit. David approached Rose just before dinner of the second day and invited her for the meal at his camp. They gathered to watch as word passed that Ram’s friends plotted the intervention apurpose, none of their attempts at wheedling the truth out of him or cheering him up having worked otherwise.

  When the laird spotted his friend giving Rose a charming smile he leapt from the fallen log he’d been resting upon straight to his feet. Then, when David extended his hand and Rose nodded yes and reached for it, Ram leapt a small shrub en route to the couple. But just after he made the leap, his eyes met Roses’s and she gave him a small frown. The laird grabbed a low-hanging tree branch to stop himself, his knuckles white from his grip as he watched the couple walk away.

  Ram’s face drained of color with each step David and Rose took. Yet he stood, gripping the limb, and stared after them long past the point where they were visible. Those watching thought he stared as though willing the couple back. Ram didn’t give up until his vigil grew so pathetic that Hugh intervened, telling Ram that he knew for a fact that nothing more would pass between the pair than friendship and a meal.

  Though Ram nodded to his friend, his eyes never left the spot where the couple disappeared. Eventually, Conall joined them and suggested that he help Ram back to the fire where ‘twas warmer. The suggestion drew a shocked look from Hugh. Conall nodded in reply and Hugh took a closer look at his friend. What he saw convinced him to place an arm around Ram while Conall did the same. With both men lending support, Ram’s halting gait carried him back to the log, although he paused every step or so to glance backwards. All the hope didn’t leave his eyes until he reached the log. Even then, he slid down it until he sat in the line of sight of the path down which Rose and David disappeared.

  Although he accepted food at dinner, he didn’t eat a bite. After dinner, some of the lads took turns singing little ditties and the ladies danced to them–all with joy stretched so thin that ‘twas brittle. It wasn’t more than an hour
after their meal that David and Rose appeared on the path. Everyone knew that without turning around. They had only to watch their laird.

  The fog drained from his eyes and he sat up straighter. Color returned to his cheeks. And when David left Rose after doing no more than briefly kissing her fingers, Ram’s lips twitched upwards into a smile that became a grimace when he blinked. And when he opened his eyes, Rose walked down the path, pausing to look directly at the laird. She stood there, chewing her lower lip and drinking in the sight of Ram as deeply as he drank in the sight of her. To those watching, it appeared that both gained more sustenance from the moment than anything they’d eaten that eve.

  ‘Twas a long time spent in complete silence, broken at the end by a babe’s cry. Both Ram and Rose started and she turned away, towards her wagon. She turned so fast that she lost her balance and might’ve fallen had Fiona not rushed up to help her into her wagon. Rose hadn’t done well the last days either, never eating and frequently losing her balance ‘Twas possibly the very worst of times for Flora to appear to stage another scene. She flounced over in Ram’s direction, deliberately blocking his view of Rose’s wagon. Her actions conflicted with her words, which praised Ram for encouraging a match between David and Rose. The sooner the English Witch left Sutherland lands the happier they would all be, Flora said. Perhaps a Priest could perform a wedding between David and Rose on the morrow at the games.

  Ram barely noticed Flora a’tall other than as the object blocking his view of Rose’s wagon. The longer her rant continued, the longer his view was blocked, the more Ram seemed to sink and shrink and dwindle. It was more than the clan women could take–and they charged to the rescue as a united group. With linked arms and united purpose, the women advanced, forcing Flora to retreat, slowly at first, and then faster–sped by their number and their venom.

  The women called Flora “criminally spoiled” for insisting on having her way no matter who it destroyed. They told her that she was the “unwelcome intruder” for Lady Rose had won their hearts along with their Laird’s. The women shouted that Flora was “pitifully stupid” for refusing to grow up and recognize that a child’s crush and a woman’s love were very different things. As Flora gave up any pretense of dignity and ran back towards her camp, they shouted the hardest truth of all, calling her a “murderess” for two deaths would lie upon her conscience.

  The cynical, skeptical warriors privately agreed with their wives that without each other, Ram and Rose would grieve themselves to death. To give their laird the best comfort they could, the lads fetched his blanket and pillow. He bedded down there, between the fire and the wagon.

  The next morning, they arrived at the games, with the MacKenzies in the lead, as Dair had insisted. The Sinclairs followed, and then the Rosses, with the Sutherlands bringing up the rear at a slow pace. Ram wasn’t in a hurry for much of anything and he cared not a bit that by the time they arrived, the others had already pitched their tents and begun to mingle.

  That mingling drew Ram away as soon as he alighted from his horse, a process that took more time since his life lost its light. By the time he stood on the ground, his first, Conall, and another warrior–Fiona Aiken’s Uncle–helped Ram hobble towards what they called a “high emergency.” Ram didn’t even hear the nature of the crises, for all he could think of was Rose–where she was, how she was, whether his nagging suspicion could possibly be true and what the hell he’d do then. He didn’t realize they’d arrived at the contentious group until Conall squeezed his shoulder.

  “Laird, these three warriors–of three different clans-all arrived at the same plan separately. They intended to-“

  Seeing Fiona at the center of the group, Ram sighed. “They intended to get the jump on all the other lads by stealing the problem as soon as we arrived.”

  Fiona cocked a finger at her laird. “Dinna call me that. Bird-brained warriors who canna see that there’s more to a woman than what the mirror shows are the problem.”

  Ram opened his mouth to give his standard answer about not allowing a woman of his clan to be forced, but he shut it again and cocked his ear. Through the fierce din of the thronging crowd, he heard his name called in a rather frantic voice. It took a moment for Ram to realize that the voice belonged to Ned, the warrior who delivered his Rose.

  Grabbing the shoulders of two of the braw would-be grooms, Ram shoved them aside as Ned’s second cry was muffled by the hand of the MacKenzie warrior restraining him. Ram barely had time to note that an unwilling Rose stood between Graham and Michael who each held one of her arms as Flora approached with two strangers. One of the strangers extended his hand and Rose struggled against Graham’s attempts to shove her in his direction.

  Ram flew more than ran, leaping, shoving, vaulting and arriving at the group in the blink of time it took for Graham’s patience to evaporate and put his weight behind his shove. That shove accomplished nothing for Ram fastened his arms around Rose as he landed behind her. She trembled so badly that Ram ignored the group as he bent his mouth to hear ear. “Ssh, love, dinna worry so. ‘Twill be fine. Calm yourself. Absorb my strength.”

  It took a few moments before Rose’s trembling lessened enough to allow her to wonder at Georgie’s absence. It didn’t vanish, mind you, but she summoned enough strength to say, “Better. I’m better now.”

  “As am I,” Ram said, having accepted the only choice he could make in the blind panic of the second it took for him to get to her. Now he embraced the choice as he embraced her, joyfully. “As am I, my love.”

  The last word fell upon the group like a Trojan Horse no one wanted to challenge.

  Dair cleared his throat. “Ahm, well, then, Ram, we were just assisting the reunion between your house guest and her betrothed of whom, I believe, you were unaware.”

  Ram’s grin lit up his lovely face to near blinding intensity. “On the contrary, Laird MacKenzie, I am fully aware of my wife’s former fiancé. Under many circumstances I would owe him an apology but given what I know of his history, I think that I owe the Jackal nothing but my contempt.”

  “Your what?” Flora screeched. “This English witch is not your wife. As your betrothed, I would know if you had a wife, now, would I not?”

  “Of that, I’m not so sure, Lady Flora. Of late, your behavior has shown a regrettable tendency to ignore reality in favor of childish fancies,” Ram replied. “I’ve claimed her as my wife twice now, in this conversation. It should be enough for any Highlander, surely?”

  “I am no skirt-wearing Highlander,” Jack said. “However, I am aware of the foolish tendency of your people to believe that a claim makes a thing so. It doesn’t, of course. It takes a wedding to make a wife and I believe you’ve not had one of those.”

  Ram took a deep breath, inhaling the welcome aroma of his lady’s roses, cinnamon and musk. How had he ever thought he could live without it?

  “You may have noticed our late arrival,” Ram said. “We made a wee stop on the way over to formalize our union. So, yes, we are legally wed–though in these parts, the parts where you stand surrounded my countrymen–a claim would suffice as well.”

  “I’m to believe you conveniently wedded my fiancée on the way here?” Jack asked.

  Ram’s people were ready to dance a Highland Reel at having their laird back, hale, hearty and willing to spit in the Devil’s face. Even the elders couldn’t regret the loss of the MacKenzie alliance, which would clearly have cost them their laird sooner rather than later. They’d not let a wee matter like the truth stand in the way of such a joyous outcome.

  Gormal stepped forward. “Aye, we did have a wedding just this morn. Did we not?”

  The resounding answer came from the gathered Sutherlands. “Aye.”

  “Was there a Reverend or Vicar?” Jack asked. “Or did one of the clansmen play the role?”

  “There was no such heathenish thing at our laird’s wedding,” Dingwall said. “’Twas a Priest, my brother in fact. Isn’t that so, Donald?”

 
A slender, slightly younger version of Dingwall stepped forward, fully frocked. Donald took not a moment to weigh the moral consequences of a lie verses the very physical, mental and emotional havoc his brother would wreak. “Yes, I performed the ceremony a very short while ago.”

  Dingwall gave his brother an approving nod.

  Prodded by his conscience, Donald added, “But if there is a question, we could repeat the ceremony now.”

  Jack seized the opening. “If the ceremony was performed such a short time ago, then the marriage has not been consummated, so the union can be undone, can it not?”

  Ram’s hands slid from their perch at Rose’s waist to sprawl wide over her stomach. “Patience is not one of my virtues,” Ram said. “The union was consummated earlier, as the future Laird Sutherland could attest–were he here and not safely ensconced within my wife.”

  Rose gasped and Ram replied without bothering to lower his voice. “Sweets, how could love expressed as such bold passion not bear fruit?”

  Ram nodded to Conall who came forward to stand in front of Rose, joined by three other Sutherland warriors who approached to stand at her sides and back. And Ram drew his sword.

  Rose shouted, “Don’t.”

  Ram replied, “Calm yourself, love. I shall not die today.”

  “I’ve no problem with having a ceremony on this day or every day that follows for the rest of our lives,” Ram said. “But I’ve a very real problem with having you live to see this ceremony, Jack. ‘Twas your attempted rape of my wife that sent her fleeing to me.”

  The women gasped and the warriors looked at the now-quivering Englishman with open disgust.

  Ram advanced, undeterred by the fact that the cowering man hadn’t drawn his weapon. “You’ve a choice. You can draw your sword and die like a man or leave it sheathed and die a coward.”

  Jack’s unsteady hand hesitated over the hilt of his sword before it fell to his side. “You’ll not kill an unarmed man.”

  Ram smiled placidly. “You’re right.” He thrust his blade and pierced Jack’s heart. Ram still smiled as the Englishman collapsed into a bleeding heap on the ground, wearing a surprised look. “But a man would not have attacked my lady. I’ve no problem eradicating vermin.”