She’d spent the rest of that day walking the village paths and the grounds of the keep. She said she needed no escort, but fearing what could happen once word of her identity got out, and it would, he’d sent along a guard to follow them. If the laird’s feast to honor their marriage surprised her, she did not show it. Marian simply took her place at his side and spoke to everyone at table…except him.
That did not stop anyone else from speaking on her behalf, and speak they did. Hamish’s words nearly blistered his ears after witnessing his angry outburst at her and without even kenning what had happened. Tavis spoke to him as though he were a child, like his siblings or Ciara, about the correct way of treating those who we take into our care. Even Farlen, who he’d had to threaten with bodily injury in order to treat Marian civilly, now told him with his own measure of certainty every mistake he’d made in dealing with his wife.
The laird turned their farewells into a private sermon about how a man should treat his wife and even Athdar, too young to ken anything about women other than their value in his bed, lectured him on the tender feelings of the fairer sex. When he ended it with a suggestion that Duncan should speak to Rurik for more guidance, Duncan kenned that Marian had won this fray.
The worst of this was that Duncan could not explain how they’d come to this. ’Twas not his sharp outburst in the hall, although that had made Ciara nervous around him for days. It happened when he bedded Marian and did not remain within her when his seed was released. He’d not truly planned to do that; ’twas more a simple decision in the moment when he realized that he could not trust her and did not want to add another child into their problems. And seeing how devoted she was to Ciara, though the child could not be her own, he worried that she would become as attached to any child she bore, making the end of their handfasting a terrible thing to face.
Although he knew these precautions were in no way completely reliable, they were at least an attempt to prevent her from carrying his child. If he did not trust her, if she planned on leaving him behind in a year’s time, if she would not share herself with him, then a child born in such uncertain circumstances was not a desirable thing. And yet, part of him pushed for him to take her, make her his in all ways and bind her to him through a bairn.
All of these things, this indecision, were swirling in his thoughts, as well as what he could and must tell Connor on their arrival. ’Twas Connor’s place to have the whole of it, but Duncan planned not to share the more personal parts of it with his laird.
And, before the week was out, he planned on sending men back to the Robertsons to find out more about Iain’s first marriage and the details of Marian’s “disgrace.” That seemed the logical place to begin his search. Once he gathered the information he needed, then he could deal with Marian, her brother and the truth behind her daughter’s seeming virgin conception and birth.
A few hours before they would reach Lairig Dubh, an arrival timed so that a huge welcoming and feast was not possible, he only knew that he had much to discuss with his wife before their arrival. He gave instructions to Hamish and then guided his horse over to the cart where she rode with Ciara for the final part of the journey.
“I would speak to you, Marian,” he said when she ignored his presence. Ciara lay sleeping, clasping a small wooden horse and pig in her hands and cocooned in a mass of blankets on a thick pallet next to Marian in the cart.
The silence grew around them as he realized that every single one of his men and the MacCallum’s, too, strained to pick up any word they spoke.
“Alone,” he growled, staring them all down. He held out his hand to Marian, and motioned for her to step on his foot and sit before him on his horse. She carefully slid out from next to her sleeping child and stood holding onto the side, ready to take his hand. At the last moment, she dropped it and spoke.
“May we walk instead?” she asked quietly. “My back is sore from riding in the cart.”
He nodded, climbing from his horse’s back and helping her down from the still-moving cart. They waited for a break in the line of horses and carts and, leading his horse along beside them, stepped into it. Her first steps were stiff, but soon she was moving more smoothly and did not appear to be in pain.
“I thought that we should speak about what to expect when we arrive in Lairig Dubh,” he began. “If ’tis acceptable to you, I would have us stay in the keep.” When she started to speak, he shook his head. “I think we should stay there until I can have a cottage built for us in the village.”
“A cottage? Do you not need to be near your laird for your work?” she asked. He noticed that she did not raise her head to meet his gaze, but only followed the ruts and lines of the road.
“I thought that it might be easier on the lass to adjust to this new life if she lived in somewhat similar circumstances to what you did in Dunalastair. Well, with a few changes.”
“Changes?” She did raise her eyes then, only for a moment but then she lowered them and her voice. “What changes do you mean?”
“Me, for one. I have need of more space than your cottage had, so ours will have several chambers as well as more land around it for your garden and for my…”
He stopped speaking before he revealed his own dreams to her. If she had her way, she would be gone in a year and she would take the child with her. He could stop her, of course, the contracts gave him complete control over both of them, but that matter was for another day. And his dreams would remain private. “…workroom.”
“My gardens?”
“I ken of your success in growing herbs and plants. Indeed, Iain plans on sending you cuttings of many of the plants you left behind in our hasty departure. Jocelyn has been lamenting over her lack of those skills and would be glad of someone to oversee that for her or to maintain gardens large enough for the clan’s needs.”
Her eyes lit up for the first time in days and she seemed pleased by this news. There was more, but he wondered how she would react to it. Well, better to have it out between them now than to wait and surprise her with anything in front of his clan…and his laird and the laird’s wife.
“I suspect that this will be something you do not wish to hear, but I will provide clothes and food and even any servants that you have need of, Marian. My wife and child will not live as poor peasants,” he said in one breath.
Then he added the worst part of it, “I do not pretend to understand the reasons or actions of your father and other kin in their treatment of you and an innocent bairn, and I ken you will not speak of it to me, but I will not stand by and allow my wife and child to live as you did in Dunalastair.” He found that his fists were clenched in anger at the thought of how she’d lived. “At least while you are my wife.”
Marian tripped at his words, but regained her balance before he could reach out to help steady her. First, his arrangements that she and Ciara would be at ease in Lairig Dubh. Then his railing against the way she’d been treated. And then his admission that he knew she looked at this as only a temporary situation.
Another man trapped in these circumstances would not think about her needs at all, and not those of a small child now in his care. In spite of the hurt he’d caused her that day, he still considered her life in his home.
He was a confusing, complicated man—one who deserved better than to be dragged into the middle of this family debacle and one who it would take years to know fully. Years she did not want and did not have. She felt the burn of gathering tears in her eyes as she felt his outrage on her behalf and she had no words to offer. The loose ties of their handfasting were the only things she could give him. Finally, after she wiped at her eyes and swallowed several times to clear her throat, she could speak.
“My thanks for your consideration in this, Duncan. I will do what I can to keep myself and Ciara out of your way.”
“That is not what I want, Marian,” he said. His face grew red and she could tell his anger grew. “I want…I want…” He let out his breath and whispered fiercel
y, “I dinna ken what I want!”
She’d only just noticed that his burr grew deeper and more obvious when he was angry or when he was…aroused. It made him even more appealing. Marian was certain he would have no problem finding a good wife once she left.
He dragged his fingers through his long hair, loosened around his shoulders now and then cursed under his breath. This was not the calm man known as the Peacemaker. This was a different man unfamiliar with turmoil in his life. Turmoil brought by her and her child. Truly, no matter the rest of it, he did not deserve this.
He took her hand and pulled her from the rest, stopping on the edge of the well-worn path and waiting for the others to pass. When they had, he turned to her.
“We must have an understanding of things between us, Marian, or they will meddle. Connor, Jocelyn, Rurik and his wife, even Hamish, will be as old women in our affairs.”
“But the earl must have many important things to see to,” she offered, frowning over this. “If I stay out of his way and yours, he will have no reason to meddle.”
“That will simply gain their attention. You do not ken these people, Marian. If they sense that something is not right between us, they will nose around and seek out the reasons. There is little privacy in Lairig Dubh.”
What he described to her sounded like heaven—people concerned about each other, meddling even, to help each other along. The least she could do was be the wife he needed her to be in front of his people while she was with him.
“There is nothing amiss between us for them to seek out, Duncan. I ken what you need of me and I will not disappoint you. I have already promised not to dishonor your name. I also promise not to embarrass or disappoint you before your clan.”
He searched her face for some sign of anger or dread or anything that could tell him what she was thinking or feeling and he found nothing. Her offer seemed genuine, but what would it mean between them?
Duncan could only nod, accepting her offer and praying it would be good enough to avoid many of the problems he could foresee. Many marriages had less solid ground beneath them than this one. Many began as handfasts and found substance or children or even love that bound them past the year-and-a-day. But a few had ended and each had gone their own way.
At this moment they had no way of knowing which way his and Marian’s bond would end or what he would discover about her past and yet she offered to stand at his side through it all. Now, his only battle would be with himself as he must keep the facts of her true condition on their wedding night a secret while he uncovered that which lay hidden. He nodded and tugged the reins of his horse, drawing him closer.
“So, we stay in the keep until a cottage can be readied for us?” she asked, drawing them back onto the common things they must discuss. They walked side by side toward the last of the men in their group, neither rushing nor lagging behind.
“Mayhap Ciara might be more comfortable in the nursery with the other bairns?” he asked.
He could see the panic in her eyes, but she did not refuse immediately. Instead she walked a short distance in silence before turning to face him.
“Duncan, I…”
“I ken…you want to say nay.”
“Aye! She is so young.”
“She is a strong, intelligent and resilient child, Marian, and I think she will flourish in the presence of the others and with the attention and guidance of their caregivers and attendants.”
He thought she would argue now, but instead she asked, “And you think that the earl and countess will allow such a thing? She is but a bastard….”
“They will allow it if I ask it of them. I only wait on your word to ask.” He paused then to give her a chance to answer, but saw by the dark look in her eyes that she could not give the word. “And there is time to decide.”
He thought she would not speak at all, but when she did, her words surprised him.
“Do you negotiate every aspect of your life, Peacemaker? Even with women?”
He’d not realized that he was doing that at all, when she had seen it clearly. Patterns in life were hard to break, so that he carried the important work he did for his clan over into his way of living should not be remarkable. One of her talents had been seeing those patterns and knowing how to use them within her family.
Her father’s pattern of favoring and protecting his eldest son at any cost was not much different than any other nobleman’s now that the English and Norman custom of all lands, wealth and titles going to only that son prevailed over much of their kingdom. The clan way of finding the best man, be he eldest or not, be he son or nephew or brother, declined now in the Highlands in favor of the king’s custom and so Stout Duncan turned a blind eye to his other sons while pushing Iain into his role as firstborn son.
Her brother’s pattern was action, then guilt and remorse, then reaction. She’d watched him grow to manhood and make the same mistakes again and again because of his inability to think before taking a reckless or ill-considered move that would have far-reaching consequences.
Her own pattern? She’d come to recognize that she was a watcher—she watched those around her and then tried to guide them along their path. And when guiding did not work, unfortunately, she stepped in and meddled where she should not. ’Twas her interference that brought Beitris to Dunalastair as Iain’s wife and then her interference that…
She shook her head. She could not allow herself to think on all the repercussions of her matchmaking now. Marian lifted her head and looked at Duncan. He was staring at her as though she’d delivered some revelation instead of a simple observation that anyone could have made.
“How could you ken that?” he asked. He stopped walking and she stayed at his side.
“’Tis your way, when other men would take what is theirs, answer to no one, ask no one, you try to reason things out and bring acceptance of the unacceptable by logical means and practical arguments. I have watched you, even now you do it with me.”
“You think you ken my ways after our few encounters?”
How could she explain her ability to him? Should she even try? Aye, he deserved at least that truth.
“I can see how you think and how you act, Duncan. ’Tis something I can do,” she said, not certain that she was explaining it as she’d like to. “You take nothing on first glance, you investigate, you question, you search. Then you consider all the facts you have gathered and act. ’Tis why you married me and did not fight your way out of the situation as most men would have when faced with what you faced.”
His mouth dropped open and she knew her words had shocked him.
“I may have only known you for a matter of days but even now, when you have the right to do what you will, to me, to my daughter, you wait and learn. Only when you ken all of it will you act, either for or against us, depending on whether what you discover will hurt or help your clan.”
“How? How do you ken so much about me?”
“Your reputation precedes you as well, Peacemaker.”
He accepted the humor in her words and was about to reply when he heard an order to halt called out. This would be their last stop before they’d reach Lairig Dubh. He had more questions for her, her insight was accurate and frightening in a way, but they would have to wait for a later time. For now, he needed to return her to her daughter, see to their comfort and give her that last opportunity to change her clothes that every woman seemed to need when meeting new people.
Marian was, after all, a woman first, and then…? Well, it would take him some time to discover everything else she was, but he would discover who she was.
Chapter Thirteen
The dark stones of Broch Dubh loomed ahead, at the top of the steep path. The road from the village climbed through the hills and led to the gate of the formidable castle. In spite of its name, it was not simply a tower, it was a castle with four towers and what Duncan had described as several acres of yards surrounded by high, thick protective walls.
’Twas almost as
forbidding as its laird, the Earl of Douran, by reputation the Beast of the Highlands, Connor MacLerie. Marian remembered his name being discussed when she approached a marriageable age and the reactions of her mother and other women to it. Her mother trembled in fear as she recounted the story.
When his wife could not or did not produce a son and heir for him, her mother said in a hushed whisper, he threw her down the stairs of the tower, killing her. The woman’s screams, damning him, were heard by everyone in the castle, as was her terror as she fell nigh to fifty feet to her death. And when she lay broken and dying on the cold stone floor, he’d fled, refusing to even have a mass said for her eternal soul.
Pray God, her mother had urged as she made the sign of the cross on herself, that he never comes calling here about you.
Marian found herself shivering now, from her own terror at the story of the Beast. Even as someone who kenned the inaccuracies that a reputation could contain, she found it difficult not to fret over meeting a man who carried such a one as that.
“Are you chilled, Marian? Do you need a cloak?” Duncan asked from his place at their side. He rode his horse next to the cart where she and Ciara rode.
“Nay,” she said. “’Twas just an odd thought passing.”
“He is not a beast.”
Marian turned and looked at him, surprised by his guess. “How did you ken?”
“When you have been faced with it for years, you can see the change in someone’s eyes and their face when they think of it. The story has been told so many times, and details are added to make it more horrifying than it was.”
That it mirrored her own situation seemed to elude him when he said the words, but then she saw the recognition of it in his own expression. She tried to remember how many details had been added to her own story and not hold the ones she’d heard about the earl against him.
“When you meet Jocelyn,” he added. “You will see the untruth of it in her eyes. Although she believed I was bringing her to her death, she would never leave his side now.”
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