The Draig's Choice

by Lisa Dawn Wadler

  His hands smacked her bottom hard. “You had best hope I am in our chamber before I do.”

  She laughed at the taunt that she believed and felt a cool blast of air on her upturned feet as he opened the door. A wayward thought left her lips. “I need to get Bella from the stables.”

  “Later,” Conall whispered into her hip as he strode to the back stairs, mindless of the laughter coming from those who saw them from the kitchen. “Bring a tray and set it outside our door.” His command brought more laughter.

  “I hate to say this but put her down.” Sarah couldn’t see him but recognized Peter’s voice and instantly hated the lack of levity.

  “Be gone, Peter. Whatever awaits will be present on the morrow. Mayhap you will have sight of us then.” Conall strode past him, but Sarah felt Peter’s arm latch on and stop their progress toward the back stairs.

  “You have a messenger.” The deadpan tone erased the naughty thoughts dancing in her mind and threatened to cripple her.

  For several seconds, the world around her froze, her balance on his shoulder precarious as she felt his shift, the brutal transition away from passion toward fate. “Where?” Conall’s voice held restraint and tension for the first time in days.

  “Behind you,” a strange male voice said as Sarah caught sight of filthy footwear and legs covered in the standard leather pants, but the coloring showed as distinctly different from those worn by the clan. “Enough with the wench. We have urgent matters. We leave shortly.”

  Without any sensual grace, Conall lowered her to the ground and the cold stones matched the dread washing over her. He placed his body between her and the new comer.

  Make the harbinger of doom. Then one thought pervaded her thoughts. Please not now, not ever.

  His broad back kept her out of sight and she stilled as he straightened, his posture screamed of hostility, complete with fists clenched at his side. “No man speaks of my wife as such. You will apologize.” She heard Peter’s sharp inhale at the deadly voice, but kept her gaze locked on Conall’s back.

  “What? Your betrothal ended, the Bruce received your message,” the strange man responded, oblivious to the anger in front of him.

  “I have since wed and none will speak foul of my wife,” Conall hissed, but he reached back for her. First, she made certain her robe covered her body and then took his hand and let him lead her to his side. “Sarah, Lady of the Draig clan, awaits your apology.”

  Her gaze washed over the man who had come to end her world. The word non-descript floated in her whirling thoughts. He was average looking with brown hair and brown eyes. Not unattractive, but not overly appealing. She might have thought him pleasant if his lips weren’t drawn in a snarl. “Lady Sarah, forgive my rude assumptions given how we met.” The mumbled apology said it all. He didn’t approve of their manner of taking the stairs and she didn’t care.

  Screw you. She wanted to scream at him to leave, but remained mute while her brain screamed no-no-no-no-no-no-no.

  If it were possible to offer a respectful slight bow with disrespect, he pulled it off. “I am Weylin.”

  Conall turned to her and she gratefully let her gaze fall to his and then winced at the distant look in his eyes. “Weylin acts as an advisor to the Bruce and is one of the few trusted with matters deemed of import.” As if he sensed how far he had drifted, Conall lifted his free hand and brushed a lock of her damp hair behind an ear. “‘Tis the one we have expected.” It was a statement that she didn’t need to be uttered.

  No-no-no-no-no-no-no. Please, no.

  Forcing her expression to remain neutral as her brain cried out in agony, she nodded and turned back to Weylin, who ignored her.

  “I have a list of needed supplies. We leave as soon as all ‘tis gathered. A fresh horse is needed as I rode for three days straight.” Weylin spoke as if nothing else mattered and she realized it didn’t to him.

  How can he not care that we’re blissfully happy?

  Conall took the parchment sealed closed with wax and scanned the two-page list while she watched his eyes move, attempting to soak in every detail of him. “We leave on the morrow. ‘Tis nearly dusk and it will take time to fill such a list. Men will need to be called and readied.”

  “We ride tonight,” Weylin commanded with a step closer that had Conall in front of her but still gripping her hand.

  “Then ride. I will leave on the morrow with the men. Seek shelter where you will.” As if the heavens interceded, thunder rolled over the keep. Conall turned to Peter while tucking her at his side. “What do you think?” He handed Peter the list.

  Peter scanned it and frowned. “If we fill all of this, many will go hungry before the first of the harvest.”

  “As I also thought. Fill it as you deem appropriate, kenning that none will be allowed to go without on our lands.” Conall squeezed her hand as he spoke with Peter. “Gather the warriors and have them join us for the meal as the time is at hand.” In the background, activity flew into motion from the kitchens.

  “Aye, Laird.” Peter’s reply left his mouth and then his orders for more food to be prepared rang unnecessarily through the kitchen before he left to gather the warriors.

  “You would dare to argue with me?” Weylin’s question had Conall dropping her hand.

  “On these lands, I am laird. I will nay send men until they are prepared to leave. The hour you would ride this night will easily be made up in the morn should we leave at dawn. Dinna command me when you have no rank or authority.” Conall’s arms crossed over his chest and Sarah lowered her head to hide her smirk.

  In other words, suck it.

  Weylin snarled and his eyes narrowed, presumably in being denied. “I have matters we need to discuss in private.” He nodded towards her and Sarah felt his distaste for her.

  Conall turned to her and she blinked rapidly despite a lack of sensation. Her mind had drifted to numbness with the eminent departure of the man who had become her life. “I shall meet you above stairs shortly.” His soft, gentle voice washed over her before he placed a far too brief kiss to her forehead. Then Conall pointed down the corridor and left with Weylin, to likely meet in the study.

  This can’t be happening. I want more time, more Conall. We’ve only just begun.

  Sarah stood mute and dumb at the abrupt and cruel change. There wouldn’t be another night lost in each other pretending nothing would ever change. No more quiet whispers over the pillows as they planned for another day of bliss. The next morning wouldn’t be spent feeling him against her or of those no longer needed wicked questions that made her blood race. The honeymoon had ended.

  Flinching as a light touch flitted over her shoulder, Sarah attempted to focus on Lena. Whatever she said fluttered around her garbled and useless.

  “Sarah, come with me. I shall help you dress.” Lena didn’t smile.

  “What do I do now?” The question meant more for self-introspection than a reply.

  Lena briefly touched her cheek and said more, but Sarah had no idea what as the woman’s warm hand took hers that shook. Their leaden steps crept up the backstairs that she should have carried up with laughter and love. Brutally cold stones met each footfall as they walked the corridor that seemed to stretch on for an eternity.

  Entering the chamber, Lena immediately dug through her chest while Sarah stared at the pile of clothing on the floor, hers mixed with Conall’s. Their bath had been planned and it had made sense to lose their clothes and don robes. That the disrobing had taken a long, sensual time only made her chest ache knowing it would be ages before that happened again.

  “Sarah, are you listening?” Lena asked as she held up a gown Sarah had never worn. The dark green silks had seemed too formal for her daily life mixed with Conall’s delightful tendencies to tear whatever covered her.

  “No, I can’t think,” Sarah whispered to the housekeeper who had begun to look annoyed.

  “Well, start. We need you to act this night. Many a wife is about to send her hus
band away and all will look to you for guidance.” Lena’s chastisement came with a tugging at the robe to force a shift over her head.

  Her arms moved as commanded, but Sarah had no idea how she could even contemplate offering guidance with the large bed in front of her that would be void of Conall come the dawn. Instead, she remained silent and let Lena dress her as if she were a helpless child.

  Without knocking, Peter entered with Bella at his heels. The dog trotted to her side and leaned her heavy weight against her thighs with a wagging tail. Stroking the animal’s side, Sarah waited for Peter to speak his mind, certain that he would.

  Peter looked her up and down with a critical eye. “She needs a plaid. I want her seen as the Lady of the clan to those assholes.”

  While Lena’s eyes widened at the profanity, she began to dig again in the chest. Again, Sarah merely stood compliant as a strip of the clan’s plaid draped over one shoulder to be tied at the opposite waist. She frowned at the realization that the formal dress had been dyed to match the plaid, more symbolism that defied her grasp of custom.

  Peter nodded, instead of grinning at her. “Are you okay?” His concern mystified her because okay definitely didn’t cover her state of being.

  “No,” Sarah muttered. “He’s leaving in the morning. How can I be okay?” Her gaze remained locked on the bed that had never appeared so massive.

  “Well, snap out of it,” Peter snarled. “We have a shit storm brewing and I need you on your game.”

  Shifting to face him, Bella stepped away to plop down on her nest of furs. Sarah missed the comforting touch of the dog, cold chills spreading over her skin that had been burning minutes ago.

  “Peter, now isn’t a good time,” Sarah replied as she walked away from him to sit in the lone chair before the dead hearth. Staring at the space the other chair had occupied, it began to feel like weeks had passed since they broke it. The memory of laughing as the wood cracked and Conall cradling her fall to not miss a beat in their passion-laden adventure brought tears to her eyes.

  Then Peter stood in the sacred spot and Sarah despised seeing him there with demands written on his face, demands he would make of her while her world evaporated.

  “Now is the time. You knew this was coming from the day you arrived here. But we have problems, and Conall needs you to keep it together for a few more hours,” Peter lectured as Lena moved behind her and placed what might have been meant as a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  Letting out a sigh that threatened to become a sob, Sarah glared at him for asking for too much from her, for not understanding how much it destroyed her to know where Conall would go and the potential that filled her mind. “Just tell me and leave.”

  “Do you want it sugar-coated?”

  “Since when do you do that?” she asked with a snort. Peter had always been blunt whether or not she wanted it that way.

  “Then here’s the deal. Weylin is in the study telling Conall that the Bruce isn’t so delighted with your marriage. It would seem Conall has fallen out of favor because of it. Why? I have no idea. He practically ordered him to marry and Logan sure seemed to like the idea.” Peter’s remarks made her mind shift.

  “Why in the hell should he care who Conall marries?” Just thinking that someone so distant didn’t approve pissed her off.

  “Kings are funny that way. You need to be your best tonight and show them that you are Conall’s wife and capable of leading this clan,” Peter snarled back at her. “Everything is on the line.”

  Running her hands over her face and into her tangled hair, Sarah blew out a heavy breath. “Well, gee, I’m all dressed up and ready to go.”

  “Cut the crap. The Bruce has demanded that Evan go with Conall. That leaves us unless they can find fault with you and then we stand the chance of one of them staying behind to run this place. Do you think they will give a damn about the clan? I doubt it. Weylin or one of his men will likely send off everything we own to support the Bruce, leaving people to starve.” Peter clenched his fists and then began pacing.

  Sarah turned her head enough to see Lena’s mouth open with clear shock. “It doesn’t make sense to send Evan. He’s the heir and supposed to be here.” Even in the dim recesses of her mind, Sarah understood that much.

  “None of this makes sense. It’s the whim of a monarch showing Conall how much power he has to wield.” Peter stopped in the middle of the room. “I can’t even imagine how hard tonight is given how you two feel about each other. But fall apart later behind closed doors. Keep it together in public,” Peter commanded and Sarah listened, not sure how she would but followed the reasoning.

  “What happens now?” Sarah rose and faced Peter, who had lost his coloring, his usually chipper cheeks pale.

  “Conall will likely put on one hell of a show tonight. Warriors need to be chosen, which means wives will lose it. You need to be there to help them.” Peter’s words fell heavily on her shoulders.

  “I don’t know if I can.” Her gaze fell to the tangle of clothing. How do I help them when I can’t breathe?

  “Yes, you can,” Peter told her point-blank with whatever he intended to add dying on his lips as Conall entered the chamber.

  Warm forest green eyes wandered her from crazy hair, over her dressed form and down to her bare feet. He gave her a slight smile as he closed the distance between them and captured her face in his hands. “Aye, but you are a vision.” Then his lips pressed against hers and she closed her eyes to prevent tears from coming to life.

  How many more kisses do I get? Do I count them? Do I add up the precious minutes remaining?

  With a quick glance to Lena, he thanked her for her assistance, though kept a hold on her cheeks.

  “Your best is on the bed.” Lena added as she bent to pick up their discarded clothing and headed to the door. “With the short notice, the meal will be hearty but nay the feast you should have.”

  “It will do.” Conall let go of her and walked to the items on the bed that Sarah had not noticed Lena providing. Without warning, the robe fell to his feet and Sarah let her gaze linger on his broad rippled back, tapered waist, fine backside and then down to his legs that were equally sculpted. Too soon, a shirt covered him and then he turned as he tied the plaid around his hips and flung the other side over his shoulder.

  Conall combed his hair back and she sighed at his raw perfection. But he didn’t pause to notice as he faced Peter. “I trust you listened.”

  “Like an old woman at the well. How can he command Evan?” Peter asked and Conall closed his eyes while grinding his teeth. They opened to see her and a soft smile covered his lips.

  “Sarah, you ken how much I love you and how you as my wife is all that matters.” She nodded while waiting for the other shoe to drop. “The Bruce finds fault with our marriage, but it matters naught. We are wed with every tradition of the clan. Yet, in a way I disobeyed, and Evan will be the means of my punishment.”

  “But why does he care?” That’s the part she didn’t understand.

  “I doubt he cares, but would have preferred the marriage alliance with the Campbell clan. Kenning the Bruce as I do, he would have found no fault with the betrothal ending. Yet I wed without his permission, even if ‘twas something I would never seek,” Conall told her as he walked to the table before the fireplace and picked up her dagger. “In truth, he is likely angry I have been gone, though he sent me here. I am one of the few who speaks his mind and nay only flatters and agrees.”

  I get it. You’re not the yes man.

  Peter spoke next. “What happens, forgive me for even saying it, but what happens if both of you die?” Sarah would have railed at the sentence if Peter hadn’t choked on the words.

  “Then all falls to my wife,” Conall quickly stated. “Sarah, I need you to be strong this eve for the clan and to show Weylin that the clan is in fine, capable hands.” His message was kinder but still carried Peter’s darker concerns.

  Pressing her body against his, she wrapped
her arms around him and snuggled into his hold. “Why can’t it ever just be about us?”

  “For days it has been us. That time has passed,” Conall whispered to her and gripped her tighter. “Upon my return, we shall have the rest of our lives to be together with many such days. I swear it.”

  Despite her wish to stay exactly where she stood, wrapped in Conall, Sarah pushed back and blinked rapidly to force back unwelcome tears. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Aye, sweet Sarah. Then the rest of the night is ours.” Conall let her go and she nearly lost her balance as cool air covered her chest.

  Peter waited while boots were laced. Conall lifted the dagger from the bed and dropped to his knees when she stood. As he had weeks ago, he tied the blade to her side and rose. His eyes stayed on hers for several breaths, until he turned his head away, yet not before she caught signs of anguish that mirrored hers.

  As the door opened, Bella scrambled to her feet and followed them down to the hall. As it had been on many nights, the hall was filled with the warriors, their wives and many children. But the air didn’t hold the communal joy of being together. The men had faces that spoke of waiting for the command to go to war. Sarah shared panicked glances with the other wives, who were all as shell-shocked as she. Even the children carried the tension with being glued to their parents’ hips.

  Focusing on presenting the illusion of calm, at least for appearances, Sarah greeted and nodded while keeping a death-grip on Conall’s hand. When they sat for the meal, her gaze stayed on him and not the men from the Bruce who sat across from them. Peter sat on her other side and Evan on Conall’s left.

  The plentiful meal tasted like dust, the little she consumed. Few platters were refilled as appetites waned and watered wine filled cups. Her head couldn’t follow the polite chatter between Conall and Weylin of news and gossip. She only heard Conall’s voice, the rich deep baritone washing over her in waves. Her eyes watched his lips form every syllable as if attempting to memorize every detail.