Possessed by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “And me?” she asked without meeting his eyes. “What about me?”

  He would rather have this sorted out sooner than later, so he motioned for her to dress and he gave her his back for privacy. “I have spent most of the night trying to figure out your role in your brother’s endeavors and have gotten nowhere. Are you his pawn or his queen?” he asked, almost rhetorically.

  “More likely his bishop, guarding his queen,” she answered.

  Not expecting an answer, and not an answer that revealed more than she probably wished to, he turned at her words. “You play the game, then? And understand the moves?” Duncan averted his eyes as she finished pulling on the chemise, gown and tunic over her head.

  “I play chess, sir, if that is what you are speaking of. Though I have not for years, I expect that I could regain my skills with some measure of practice.”

  Another surprise, but then she was the daughter of a powerful Scottish laird who would have seen to her education—an education that would have included reading, writing, languages, even some amount of mathematics and the skills needed to run a large keep or castle and its people.

  “And his other game, lady? What part do you play in that?”

  She grew silent at that question, not answering him immediately. “If you speak to him about what you discovered, I am certain he will make arrangements for me elsewhere,” she offered in a whispered voice. Defeat filled it and he wondered at the reasons why she was her brother’s accomplice.

  “Am I simply your means of escape then?” he asked, trying to understand the players and the game.

  “Nay, you misunderstand,” she said softly. “I knew not of his plans to draw you into this….” She seemed to search for a word, but could not find the correct one.

  He reached out and took her by the shoulders to make her face him. “Did your brother know I would find you a maid when I took you to my bed?”

  A frown flitted over her features, darkening her eyes for a moment and then she shrugged under his hands. “He had to expect it. I have lived under scrutiny for more than five years and he knows of any possible transgressions or the lack of them.”

  “So, whether I married you to remedy the publicly staged dishonor after the feast or now that I have claimed the maidenhead of a clearly virtuous woman, the result is still the same—I have you to wife. Something your brother plainly desires. The question plaguing me is why.”

  The question that truly plagued him was another and yet unspoken, but it could not remain so. ’Twas so obvious and such an integral part of this whole scenario he thought that she might be honest with him over it.

  “Who is Ciara?” he said softly while observing her face for any changes.

  And change it did, taking on a defensive expression that hardened her eyes and pressed her lips into a tight line instead of the full ones he kissed so ravenously just a few hours earlier.

  “She is my daughter.” She pulled from his hold and stepped away to finish dressing, apparently of the belief that her answer was enough.

  “Since I was the first man inside you, pardon my vulgarity for pointing it out, my lady, there is no doubt that you did not give birth to Ciara.”

  Marian crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her chin, into a fighting position whether she realized it or not, and repeated her answer. “She is my daughter.”

  Hearing noises outside the chamber that indicated they would have to share the corridors and hall with servants and others as the keep stirred to life, he needed to finish this. Leaning in close, he spoke quietly so only she could hear his words.

  “Tell me how she became your daughter, Marian. Tell me the truth.”

  The tension filled the small space between them and he grew aware of her anxious breathing and the beads of sweat that trickled from her hairline, down the edge of her face to her neck. The minute stretched on and on until ’twas clear she would favor him not with an answer. He let out his breath with a sigh.

  “So be it then. You trust me not and I trust you not. At least I know the situation between us.”

  He reached past her for the two strips of wool that had bound their hands and their lives together and took his sgian-dubh from its place on his leg. Slicing the inside of his lower arm, he let the blood trickle out and splashed it on the blanket, the sheets and even the floor, in a path that led to the table. It completely covered the small shadow hers had left in the center of the bed.

  She gasped at his actions and reached out to stop him. He waved her off and wiped the blade clean with one of the pieces of wool, before sliding it back in its scabbard. Then he wound one piece around his arm, over the cut, and then followed it with the other which he tied tightly to bind the wound.

  “I apologized to your brother for the blood already. A clumsy accident with my dagger that splattered it on the bed and the floor.”

  Now it was her turn to ask the questions. “Why?”

  “I am the Peacemaker,” he said, as he crossed his arms and his eyes took on a chilling expression. “I will do whatever is necessary to protect the interests of my clan and my laird. If it was shown that you were brought to my bed a virgin, it would call your father’s and even your brother’s honor into question. The agreements would fall as would the alliance, all because of my need to proclaim the truth that I had been wronged. And that is something I will not do.”

  “All for your clan?” she asked.

  “Aye. And for that reason, I will discover the truth that you are all working so hard to keep hidden. I will not let you endanger this alliance or endanger my clan in any way because of whatever you hold close and speak not of. And, until you speak the truth of this to me, I will not trust you.”

  Marian could not help the shiver that ran through her at his cold pronouncement, nor could she tell him what he asked. Too many lives had been lost, too precious a price had already been paid to keep the past behind them. And if it took one more year of her life before she could slip away and live unnoticed with her daughter, well then, so be it. She’d survived worse.

  He had no way of kenning that she, too, was a peacemaker. Her mother had depended on her to act as mediator and go-between in all the family battles. Her father expected more—he’d expected her to bear the cost of the sins of others in order to keep the peace and, in respect for the promise given to her mother as she died, she did so.

  A call from the corridor broke into the tense moment between them and interrupted their uncomfortable stalemate. Duncan stepped away to open the door and Marian found herself with nothing to do or say. Truly, all she wanted to do was to go to Ciara and hold her close. There was too much swirling around them here, too much of the past still walked these corridors, and she wanted to be away from here as soon as possible.

  “Come,” he said. “The men are ready in the yard and we have many miles to cover this day.”

  Marian found her stomach clenching with each step down the stairs toward the hall and the rest of her family. Other than a tense meal with them after the ceremony, she’d not spoken to any of them in years. Her brothers were grown into men with their own lives, even Padruig was betrothed and she’d heard mention that Iain was in search of a new wife. Her father dead and buried more than two years now, and her mother before that.

  Another farewell now would simply tear open old wounds and would do no good to any of them. He must have sensed her turmoil, for Duncan drew to a stop just before they entered the hall.

  “Have you changed your mind? Would you rather stay here?” he asked, meeting her gaze directly as though prepared for a repudiation.

  “Nay,” she said, shaking her head. “I just cannot face them and say farewell…when I know I will not see them again.”

  Did he understand? Could he? Could anyone? She felt his perusal and then he nodded at her. Calling to one of his men, he asked Hamish to escort her to the horses while he went to take their leave of the laird and the rest of the Robertsons.

  She began to understand how he had th
e successes he did as a negotiator—he could discern people’s motives and needs and concerns with only a look. He evaluated a situation and kenned what needed to be done. He did it without seeming to judge and without calling a person’s motives into question, or at least he had not with her.

  If this was how he would treat her as his wife, if he extended the loyalty he showed them to her, how could she ever think to keep the truth from him?

  Climbing up on the back of the horse that stood waiting for her, she peered through those who stood watching and nodded her head to a few of them. Some had been kind to her. Some remembered her from her childhood. Some had not been so kind. But now, as she rode through the gates toward her daughter and then toward a new life, she tried to leave them and all the other ghosts who still lived here behind her.

  Chapter Nine

  The first day quickly became an adventure. Leaving the village behind in the morning, seeing the falls from the distance as they trekked into the surrounding hills, pointing out animals and birds, learning each of the men’s names—each step kept Ciara’s interest in the journey. For certain, the presence of so many different horses helped as well. Although her daughter was more outgoing than she’d ever witnessed, Marian did notice that she rode only with herself or with Duncan.

  By the second day, Ciara had quieted and then the third and fourth days found her nearly sullen and withdrawn. Thinking back on their journey to Dunalastair, Marian realized that she’d only been a bairn and probably did not remember much of it at all. And most of that was accomplished in the back of a cart. Now, from the back of one horse or another, it became boring and repetitive no matter how much Marian tried to make a game of it.

  If not for Duncan…If not for his inordinate patience and attention to Ciara, Marian knew that the days would seem much longer than they already did. Although (as she learned from Tavis) he had no close siblings or children of his own, and although (as she learned from Hamish) he was not used to this slow a pace when traveling on the laird’s business, and although (this from Farlen) she was lucky that he did the right thing and handfasted with her, she truly was grateful beyond words for the manner in which he made the journey as easy as possible for her daughter. And if he did not converse with her along the way, keeping his attentions on the safety and the roads ahead and even on his own business and if he spent every night only-God-knew-where, then she was fine with it. Truly she was fine with it.

  For, other than asking her in a hushed voice after a half-day’s travel if she were well, he had said nothing to her at all. All messages and orders were passed on to her by others, even Ciara, or called out to everyone.

  This marriage did not begin on solid ground, but Marian hoped that they would be able to live peaceably for their year and then go their separate ways. He was an indispensable man to his clan who traveled much for his laird, so some of the time he would be gone from Lairig Dubh. He was a virile, handsome man who probably had a leman or mistress even though he’d had no wife yet, so that would keep him busy for some of the nights. All she would have to do was keep her promise not to dishonor him and she would be free.

  They stopped for a short rest by the side of a large loch and the pleasure of walking made her sigh. Ciara ran around the group as the men prepared a meal for them. ’Twas obvious that they were accustomed to traveling together, for they worked together with a remarkable efficiency whenever they stopped along the road. Whether it be preparing a camp for the night or like this, a short break with a meal, Marian found she got in their way rather than being of assistance.

  Searching around the lochside, she noticed that the trees began some distance from the edge. At such a distance, Duncan would insist on escorting them off to handle their personal needs, and giving the men time to see to theirs, but he was deep in conversation with two of the men. Taking Ciara’s hand in hers, she stood waiting for him to finish. To keep her daughter busy, she guided her in bigger circles where they stood, which also helped to work out any stiffness in their limbs. A few minutes later, after Farlen returned to his duties and Donald mounted and rode off down the road at a fast pace, Duncan walked to where they waited.

  “My pardon for the delay, my ladies,” he began. “A moment or two of privacy is probably needed?”

  Ciara giggled each time he called them “ladies,” but she dropped Marian’s hand and ran up to Duncan to allow him to guide her. She guiltily admitted that her daughter’s quick acceptance of this man bothered her, yet she would never say it aloud. For these last five years, Marian had been everything to her daughter, but now Duncan stepped into their lives and, truth be told, ruled it. Whether ’twas with the permission of the laws and contracts that bound them or by Ciara’s own behavior, he now mattered.

  They walked up a hill, through the first line of trees and deeper into the forest, far enough from the loch and the men that they could not be seen or heard easily. Then, Duncan left them and walked several paces back until they were alone. They finished quickly and walked back to the loch, where she helped Ciara wash her hands and face and where she enjoyed the cool freshness of the water. Duncan spoke not a word until Hamish called to Ciara and she ran off to eat. Then she faced her husband alone for the first time in days.

  “In the haste of things, I did not have time to make new arrangements for traveling with you and…your daughter,” he said, glancing over to where Ciara stood eating with the men. She noticed the slight hesitation, even if he did not, but chose not to speak of it.

  “You and your men are a well-trained team,” she said. “I try to stay out of the way.”

  “We have done this for several years.” He stopped and looked at her now. “Riding is not so pleasurable now?”

  “I have not ridden in years, so this is a bit too much in such a short time.” She stretched then, trying to soothe the ache in her back and her legs before she would need to climb atop her horse again.

  “We stop for the night at the MacCallum’s keep,” he said. “If you would prefer, you could travel by cart from there.”

  “The MacCallums?” she asked.

  “Allies to the MacLeries. Connor’s wife, Jocelyn, is a MacCallum.”

  She nodded her head, now recognizing the name. “You negotiated their marriage agreements.”

  “Aye, and escorted the bride to her husband,” he said. Then the most appealing smile covered his face and he laughed aloud. “Though I am lucky to be alive after that journey.”

  Another laugh escaped as he remembered something else, but the deep rumble of his laughter eased something in her own heart. “It does sound as though you were not in any true danger.”

  “I will share my side of that story before Jocelyn tells you hers,” he said, holding out his arm to her. “For now, let us eat and get back on the road, so we can get there before dark.”

  She accepted his escort and thought about meeting his clan’s allies this night. Was that where Donald had gone? To take word of their approach and need for shelter for the night? Just before they reached the gathering of men and Ciara, he spoke again.

  “I am certain that the MacCallum can offer you a hot bath and a soft bed. Real cooked food and other comforts, to be sure.”

  So that was why he was enthusiastic about stopping this night. A bed…a bedding, too? Well, this was to be her life for the next year, so Marian tried to resign herself to his presence in her life. The first part of what they’d done on their wedding night was nice, more than nice. She would not mind doing that part again.

  And since the last part did not look so enjoyable to either of them, mayhap Duncan would be content with only the first part? She could admit in the deepest part of her soul that she enjoyed his kisses and would like to touch him in places she’d only seen briefly that night before passion took control. Would he allow her to do that? Did men let their wives touch them for the pleasure of it? Her mouth went dry at the thought of such caresses.

  She met his gaze then and ’twas almost as though he could read her thou
ghts again. Marian said the only thing she could, even knowing it would draw his attention from the very thing she wished to avoid.

  “Will you make arrangements for Ciara then?”

  “Ciara? What arrangements?” he asked in a deep voice. He must be thinking of the bedding also. She knew that men’s voices changed when filled with passion. She wondered if his body reacted to this talk of swiving as well and glanced down at his sporran to see if any changes happened.

  “I…” She cleared her throat and looked away from him. “I would prefer that we not tup in the same chamber where Ciara sleeps.”

  Proud that she had gotten the words out, her courage now failed her and she let go of his arm and walked over to her daughter. Before she’d gone two paces from his side, the foul curse he spoke under his breath reached her and she shuddered.

  If he did not abide by her wishes, there was little she could do about it. However, she hoped that he would go slowly in forcing Ciara to adapt to his ways. Hamish held out a small wooden bowl with some porridge in it and a chunk of cheese. She only wondered how she would get this food down her dry throat.

  Duncan had watched every move she made during those first days on the journey, not quite certain of how he could approach her. There were things he needed to know before they arrived in Lairig Dubh, things about what her and Ciara’s needs were, things about…her. Iain had spoken of her upbringing and her abilities, such as chess and languages, but said little of her life over these last five years. Mostly he wanted her to tell him the truth of Ciara’s parentage and why she’d not warned him of her…condition.

  The only words he’d gotten out that first day when he chanced to speak to her with a measure of privacy was to ask if she fared well. He had a need to apologize for his blundering actions in their first bedding, but he could simply not find a way to explain. How did a man tell his virgin bride that he should have recognized the signs of her inexperience when she most likely had no idea that there were signs? How did a man tell her that relations did not usually end in such a manner? And that he would have more care the next time?