by B. J. Scott
“Thank you. It will be fine.” Andrew dipped a chunk of bannock into the stew, then popped the morsel into his mouth. “I have not had a hot meal since I left Fraser Castle.”
“You are welcome to it and anything else you might desire, m’lord. Just call for me if you need anything else.” She bobbed a curtsy, then left.
“Dinna believe her, lad. Maggie adores me, but is just too shy to admit it,” Seamus claimed, then grabbed the jug of ale and refilled his tankard.
“I can see that,” Andrew chuckled to himself, finding his friend’s misguided ideas amusing. There was nothing shy or demure about Maggie. “So, I take it you never married.”
“I never met the lass who could trap me.” Seamus threw back his head and laughed. “What about you? A handsome young buck must have many women fighting for your attention.”
Andrew shook his head and tore off another piece of bannock. “Nay. Like you I havena found the right one. But I must admit that I am in no hurry to wed. I have enough to keep me busy at Fraser Castle and dinna need to add a wife.”
“Are you na tanist to your da?”
“Aye.”
“Then you will be required to choose a bride who can give you many sons. An heir will be expected,” Seamus said, grinning.
“There is plenty of time for that. My father is still a young, healthy man.”
Seamus frowned and picked up his tankard. “That is what Laird MacCurtry thought. Unfortunately, life is full of uncertainties, so we canna assume all will go as we plan. Are he and your da na close in age?”
Andrew lowered his gaze and continued to eat in silence. It was true that illness could strike at any age, but he refused to discuss the possibility it might happen to his father. Once he’d finished his meal, Andrew shoved the trencher away and took a sip of his ale. “I always thought he was invincible. How long has the laird been ill?”
“A few months. He was hale and hardy, then suddenly came down with a strange sickness that not only left him delirious with fever for over a sennight, but as weak as a newly born colt. Despite the healer’s best efforts, he never fully recovered.” Seamus finished the ale in his tankard and poured himself some more. “Donella suspects that whatever it was has weakened his heart. She has tried bloodletting, leaches, and potions, but so far naught has worked. Instead, he grows feebler every day, and she believes it willna be long before he dies.”
Andrew scrubbed his hand across his beard-stubbled chin. “So sudden. Is she certain it is hopeless? My aunt Fallon is a gifted healer. If it might help, I could summon her.”
Seamus rested his elbows on the table and leaned in closer to Andrew. “Nay. Donella is from a lengthy line of healers. They are known to be the finest in all of Scotland. If she canna help the laird, no one can. Will you be staying with us for a while, or on your way home again soon?” he asked, changing the topic of discussion.
It was obvious by the sadness in his voice and defeated expression on Seamus’s face that the MacCurtry’s illness weighed heavy on everyone’s mind, including his men. While he normally would not repeat his private discussions with the laird, Andrew knew Lorne planned to make an announcement on the morrow regarding his bequest, and right now, he really needed someone to talk to. “It appears I will be here for at least a fortnight, mayhap longer.”
Seamus whistled. “This sounds serious. Can I ask why the laird summoned you?”
“He wants me to help him find a husband for Mareal, a suitable man to take his place as chieftain.” Andrew gulped downed the content of his tankard, then continued. “He proposes a tournament where prospective suitors will vie for her hand, and after that, a ceilidh where those attending wear a mask to hide their true identity.”
“I’ve na heard of such a thing,” Seamus said.
“Nor have I, but the laird is determined to see it take place, and has even begun sending out invitations.” Andrew explained the laird’s intent, but still did not see it as a viable way to find his replacement. “I canna leave until I have honored my promise to help select a husband for Mareal.”
Seamus’s eyes widened as he stared at Andrew. “Does she know about her father’s plan?”
Andrew nodded. “Aye, she walked into his chamber while we were discussing it.”
Seamus lowered the volume of his voice to a whisper. “Finding a man willing to marry her may take more time than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is common knowledge about these parts that the laird’s daughter is na like most women. Some call her an unmanageable she-devil,” Seamus said. “While comely to behold, she is verra independent and acts more like a lad than a lass. Na things that are overly appealing to a prospective husband.”
“You’re na telling me something I dinna know,” Andrew replied. “Mareal was a feisty bairn, but I really thought she would outgrow it by now. Her mam seemed determined to see to it.”
“Lady Adelaide died not long after you left for home, so the task of taming her wild ways was left to her da.”
“Her mother was a fine woman, and treated me kindly when I fostered here. I was sorry to hear of her passing.” Andrew made the sign of the cross, mumbled a quick prayer, then continued. “It surprises me that her da dinna realize she needed other women or in the least, female friends to teach her how to behave?”
“The laird was devastated by the loss of his wife, as was Mareal. Aside from her lady’s maid, she never had anyone but her father,” Seamus said.
“I am surprised there were no women in the clan who could help him.” Andrew found that odd, but he also came from a large family, with aunts and cousins more than willing to step up if needed.”
Seamus gave his head a shake. “No one bold enough to take on the challenge, and she dinna make female friends easily.”
Upon realizing that teaching Mareal how to behave like a lady would also be part of his challenge, Andrew released a great sigh and began rubbing his temples. He closed his eyes, recalling the day he met his father’s half-sister, Arya, for the first time.
A strong-willed hellion, raised by a rival clan until the age of eighteen, she could outride, wield a sword, and hit a moving target with her arrow better than most men. It wasn’t until her dying mother contacted his father and uncles, requesting they come to Oban that his family learned she existed. Her mother’s last wish was that Arya go with them to Fraser Castle, so Connor and his brothers could teach their newly discovered sister how to be a lady and accept her rightful place in the Fraser Clan. While Mareal was not nearly as wild as his aunt had been, there were things about her spirited behavior that most men would find undesirable in a wife. But he was certain if Arya could change, so could Mareal.
“I doubt Lady Mareal is pleased about having a husband chosen for her.” Seamus’s expression darkened further. “But she is na your only problem, Andrew,” he warned. “You must also keep in mind that once word spreads and Kayden gets wind of his uncle’s impending death, there is no telling what he might do.”
“The prospect has already crossed my mind. However, if the need arises, I will deal with Kayden accordingly.” The persistent throbbing in his head and increasing pain behind his eyes had blossomed into a full-blown headache. Exhausted from his journey, Andrew needed some rest and time to think about how he would deal with this situation. He slid his chair back and rose.
“Where are you going, lad? The night is still young and there are pretty wenches and plenty of ale. Mayhap Maggie has a friend who could join us.” Seamus’s lips curled into a wide grin.
“I appreciate the offer, but it has been a long day and I have had enough ale for one night. On the morrow I have a huge task to face, so need to get some rest.” Andrew pushed the jug of ale across the table in Seamus’s direction. “I will leave the lassies and drink to you, my friend, but mayhap you could tell me where I am to sleep.”
“In the same chamber you shared with Kayden when you were lads. I already asked the steward to put your belongings in th
e room and told him to send up a jug of mead. Do you remember the way?”
“I’m certain I can find it. Good night.” Andrew turned on his heel and headed out of the hall.
Upon entering his chamber, it pleased him to see a fire burning on the hearth, his canvas satchel on the bed, and a jug of spirits on the bedside table. Wasting no time, he quickly disrobed and laid upon the thick straw-filled mattress, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his mind racing.
The first thing he intended to do was to get a good night’s sleep. In the morning he would send a missive to his cousin Elise at Fraser Castle and bid her come. Perhaps a companion, a woman of equal status to Mareal, someone who knew how to conduct herself in a lady-like manner was what his charge needed.
His sister Leslie first came to mind. But he feared the two ladies were so much alike, his plan to tame Mareal’s obstinate behavior might fail. In addition, the high-spirited lass got married a summer ago and she expected the arrival of her first babe any day. Elise and Mareal were complete opposites, so he hoped spending time with a demure, shy, and gracious lady, might prove a better influence. In Andrew’s opinion, she was the perfect companion for Mareal. Once she arrived, he would let the ladies get acquainted while he prepared for the tournament. He prayed things would move along quickly, and once Mareal married, he and Elise could return to Fraser Castle where they belonged.
****
“The hour grows late, Lady Mareal.” Her maid clucked her tongue as she turned down the bedcovers. “You should be abed and sound asleep by now. Why, you are na even wearing your night clothes.”
“I am far too upset to sleep, Glenna.” Mareal paced the length of her chamber. “I canna believe my father is doing this to me.”
“Doing what, m’lady?” Glenna shrugged.
“He expects me to marry a total stranger. A man I neither know nor love,” Mareal spat.
“And that surprises you?” Glenna asked. “It is a customary practice for a laird to select his daughter’s husband. Especially since you are his only heir.”
“I am familiar with Highland tradition, but I always thought he would allow me to pick my own husband.”
“He may have done so, were he na so ill.”
“I am his daughter, na property to be bartered.” She plunked herself down on the end of the bed and cradled her face in her hands. “What am I to do?”
Glenna sat beside her and cupped Mareal’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I am na sure I have the answers that will ease your mind. Your father is laird and he has bid you marry, and I am sure he believes he acts in your best interest. I dinna see that you have any choice but to do as he asks.”
Mareal dragged the back of her hand across her damp cheeks, catching a stray tear, then sniffled. “Mayhap there is another choice. I could go to the priory and take my vows, eliminating my need to marry anyone. And Andrew Fraser canna make me do so.”
“A life with the nuns is na for you, Lady Mareal, and you know this to be true,” Glenna said. “You are a spirited lass and with their strict rules, you would never survive. You also take pride in your healing skills. Do you wish to give that up?”
“Do nuns and monks na get ill?” Mareal knew the hardships and limitations she faced should she decide to dedicate her life to God, but those of a forced marriage, seemed worse.
“Of course, they do, but the need is so much greater within the clan. We need you.” Glenna stood. “Mayhap, Lord Fraser will select someone you like, even grow to love someday.”
Mareal raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I am na ready to take that chance, and certainly dinna need anyone to select a husband for me. If I must choose, I will humbly take a life of celibacy and service to the Almighty over an uncertain future with a man I dinna love.”
“Do you na want bairns, m’lady?”
“I hoped to be blessed with many babes, but we dinna always get what we wish for.” An only child, Mareal had prayed for brothers and sisters every night before bed, however those prayers went unanswered. After her mother miscarried several times, then died in childbirth, her father didn’t remarry, and her dreams of being part of a large family perished with her mam. Kayden came to live with them after his father died in a battle with the English, but they were never close. If anything, they were constantly at each other’s throats.
When Andrew fostered at MacCurtry Castle, he spoke about his siblings and cousins with great fondness. He came from a household with many bairns and she envied him. She often wondered if that was why she found herself so taken by him, and secretly wished to marry him. But after seeing Andrew today, she knew there was more to the attraction she felt than satisfying her desire for siblings. Something she was determined to avoid at all cost.
“What of your father’s wishes? It is na like you to deliberately defy him. What will happen to the clan if you leave? Who will be laird if na the man you marry?” Glenna asked, while wringing her hands.
“I love my da and would do anything to honor him. But what he asks of me is difficult to accept.” Mareal lowered her gaze. Her devotion to her father and her responsibility to the clan were things she could not ignore or turn her back on. But she wasn’t prepared to accept his death either. “I choose to believe my father will na die, that Donella will heal him, and things will be as they were.”
“I pray you are right, m’lady, but if she doesna heal him, what will you do?”
“Deal with it if and when I must.” Mareal inclined her chin. “But I willna marry a man chosen by Andrew Fraser.” She pounded her balled fist on the bed. “So, he can just pack up and go home to Fraser Castle where he belongs.”
“I caught a glimpse of Lord Andrew when he arrived today. He is a braw warrior. I also heard tell he is a good man. Mayhap he could marry you.” Glenna wiggled a brow and flashed Mareal a mischievous grin. “I can imagine worse fates, and some say that is the real reason your father asked him to come.”
“Dinna be foolish. Nor should you believe what you hear bandied about the keep.” Mareal sprang to her feet and began to pace again. “Andrew Fraser is an arrogant, self-serving man, and I hate him. I wouldna marry him if he begged me.” The words spewed out in a far harsher tone than she intended.
“Forgive me for saying so, but I think you fancy him and are just too stubborn to say so.” Glenna began to giggle, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
Mareal stared back at Glenna in disbelief. The lass was her maid, her servant, but she was also the closest thing to a female friend Mareal ever had. If there was anything she could count on, it was that the maid would speak from her heart and tell her honestly what she thought—regardless if her mistress liked it or not. Most women of her social status would see a servant punished for her outspoken remarks, but Mareal loved her for them.
“Lord Fraser is na only handsome, but I hear tell he is a kind, generous man. He would be a fine husband for you,” Glenna continued her praise.
“You are wrong. I despise him, and canna wait for him to go back where he belongs.” Her voice wavered when she spoke, her conviction waning. Glenna had a valid point. She could do worse than Andrew Fraser. A lot worse. But he did not love her and was not here to marry her. He came out of obligation to her father and would leave as soon as he completed the task of finding her husband. They didn’t get along as bairns, so there was no reason for her to think this time would be any different.
“My father summoned him to assist him with clan affairs during his illness,” Mareal declared directly. “I am sure he plans to return to Fraser Castle as soon as he can. He is to be laird of his own clan someday, and the man I wed must remain here. He could already have a wife and bairns for all we know.”
Mareal wandered to the window, threw open the shutters, and peered up at the star-spattered sky. “I wish my mam was here. She loved my father, and would want the same life for me.” She wondered if her mother was watching down on her from Heaven, and if she hadn’t died, would she agree to her father’s plan to aucti
on her daughter off like livestock? Sadly, her mother was gone and there was no one to stop this from happening, except for herself. “I must think of something, Glenna, and soon.”
“Mayhap after a good night’s sleep, things will appear different.” Glenna placed a night rail on the bed, then emptied a pitcher of water into a bowl on the bedside table. “Would you like me to help you undress and prepare for bed? If you wish, I could go down to the cellar and fetch you some wine or mead. Mayhap it would settle your nerves and help you to sleep.”
“Nay.” I wish to look out at the stars for a while longer and can get ready for bed on my own. You may leave to tend to your duties.” She returned to the window. “I really need some time alone. Some time to think.”
“Verra well, m’lady.” Glenna curtsied. “But please dinna stay up too late. Brooding willna help. If you change your mind about needing some assistance, or wish me to fetch you some spirits to help you to sleep, please dinna hesitate to call me.” Before leaving the chamber, Glenna approached Mareal from behind and began to loosen the ties on the back of her mistress’s gown. “Let me help you with these, so you can disrobe easily when ready.” After doing so, she headed for the door. “Rest well. Things will look brighter in the morn.”
Mareal didn’t reply, instead she continued to gaze out the window, her thoughts racing. If she packed her things and crept out of the castle under the cloak of darkness, she might get away unnoticed. But she also knew that once Andrew learned of her absence, he would track her down and drag her back to the keep, despite her wishes.
She also had to consider her father. When the image of his pale complexion, gaunt cheeks, and labored breathing came to mind, she knew she couldn’t leave. If anything happened to him and she did not have a chance to say goodbye, she’d never forgive herself. She also could not bear the thought of causing her father any worry. Her heart gave a tug. He was so ill, and she loved him so much. The idea of losing him tore at her soul and she bowed her head in prayer, begging the Almighty to spare her da’s life and give her the answers she sought.