by Ava McArthur
Something even worse occurred to him. Elspeth Barbour, the woman from whom he had demanded a kiss, was to be his new bride. How was he going to face her? He thought of a particularly nasty encounter he had had with a great bear of an Englishman just before he had arrived back at the castle. He and Stuart had been returning to the castle after having seen off a party of a dozen marauders when they decided to do a spot of rabbit hunting.
They had caught half a dozen fine animals when a huge, hairy Sassenach had emerged from the trees riding an equally huge horse. Niall, reacting instinctively, had knocked him off his horse by riding straight into him, but the man was hungry and desperate, and even the sight of two warriors, both armed to the teeth, did not deter him. Niall had overcome the weakened man easily, but rather than allowing himself to be captured, the Englishman had impaled himself on his own sword.
Niall thought of the feeling he had then—a deep sadness for the man’s life and anger about his part in it.
Now he was devastated that his brother had died, and angry that he had to take his place. But more than that, he was terrified. What was he going to say to this woman who he had so grievously insulted?
Craig, why did you have to leave me?
2
Elspeth
Elspeth was horrified when she heard from Colm McLaren the news that she now had to marry the enormous man she had met on the road. He had looked dirty and uncouth, wild as a wolf, and just about as fierce, and the thought of sharing a bed with him scared her witless. The fact that he had had the sheer arrogance to demand a kiss from her still had the power to enrage her, and she hoped that she would be able to control her anger while they sat and ate together. She fortified herself with a rare glass of whiskey before her midday meal and then submitted herself to Catriona’s tender care.
“Catriona,” Elspeth sighed as her maid bound up her honey-colored hair. “I wish I was somewhere else—anywhere else. I came here to marry one man, and they are handing me over to another as though I am an unwanted gift that no one knows what to do with. Do you remember the size of that man? He is like a bear!” She shook her head. “And I am still so damned angry with him!”
Catriona had several hairpins in her mouth, so a few moments passed before she answered. “He is a vera handsome bear,” she pointed out, trying to lift Elspeth’s spirits a little. “Mistress, I have been askin’ some o’ the other maids, an’ they say that Laird Craig was a vera good gentleman, but they a’ feel that Laird Niall will be just as good, but in a different way. Laird Craig, they say, was a man that listened tae a problem, thought about it, an’ then acted, but his brother Niall acts first an’ thinks later. They say he needs a firm hand tae control him, an’ the only one who could dae it was Laird Craig. Now it will be yer job.”
Elspeth looked at her maid, her eyes wide and horrified. “And what makes you think I can do that, Catriona? You saw what he was like.”
Catriona cocked her head to one side, thinking, her blue eyes alight with mischief. “Ladies have been daein’ it tae men since Eve, mistress. Think o’ Samson an’ Delilah, King Solomon an’ the Queen o’ Sheba. Charm him. Make him fa’ in love wi’ ye.”
Elspeth laughed, but it was a humorless, bitter sound. “You make it sound so easy, Catriona. What if he hates me? What if I hate him? What if our wedding night is a disaster and he despises me? What if the whole thing is unbearable?”
“What if the sky falls doon?” Catriona laughed. “An’ what if the world ends an’ we a’ go tae hell? Ye can say ‘what if?’ ’til the cows come hame, mistress, but it willnae change anythin.’”
Elspeth sighed and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, which was beginning to ache. “I feel trapped, Catriona. If this man here does not want me, my father’s damned pride will not allow me to go back home. He says it will disgrace the family, as if he is not a big enough disgrace himself!”
Catriona frowned at the mention of Elspeth’s drunken father. “How dae ye know the laird doesnae want ye?” she asked, her tone deeply indignant. “Has he said as much?”
“I would not if I were him,” Elspeth replied glumly.
Catriona took Elspeth’s face between her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “Mistress, any man that doesnae want ye is barkin’ mad. Ye’re lovely inside an’ out.”
Elspeth leaned her head on Catriona’s shoulder. “Thank you for saying so, Catie, but we both know it is not quite as simple as that.”
“Maybe no’, mistress,” Catriona conceded, “but ye will have an easier time than most. Be yerself. He will love ye.”
Elspeth stood up, and Catriona took her hands. They were ice cold. She smiled into Elspeth’s eyes in what she hoped was an encouraging manner before letting her go, and then she said a silent prayer. She did not feel quite as confident as she had tried to sound.
Elspeth stood just behind the door for a long time watching Niall’s back. She could tell that he was just as nervous as she was by the stiffness of his posture, and the thought reassured her a little. Perhaps he was not as big and arrogant as he had been when they first met on the road, although he still scared her.
As if he sensed that someone was watching him, he turned and looked straight into her eyes before she could turn away. He stood up, and she looked at him with a face as expressionless as a marble statue. She was wearing a very dark brown dress but still felt guilty that she did not have black garments.
“M’Laird,” she said evenly, “I hope you are well today.”
His golden eyes crinkled as he smiled back at her, but he had the look of a hunted animal. “Better than when we first met, thank you,” he replied, pulling a chair out for her. She obediently sat and he poured her a glass of wine, then sat down so that she was angled by his left side.
He sighed deeply and frowned. “Milady Elspeth, I hope you will forgive me for the way I behaved towards you on the road,” he said in a stern, gruff tone. “It was unforgivable of me, and I am furious with myself. My only excuse—a poor one—was that my friend and I had been sharing a flask of whiskey, and we were both a little tipsy. I am sorry.”
She nodded slowly, and her lips curved upwards in a tentative smile. “I understand that men can sometimes be a little...amorous when drunk, but please do not let it happen again.”
He looked shamefaced. “You have my word,” he replied.
There was a strained silence, during which neither of them could think of a thing to say. Elspeth spoke first.
“When is the funeral?” she asked, just to get the thorny subject out of the way before they began to eat. She was not sure that she could keep anything down, but she had to try. This man was to be her bridegroom, and she did not want to appear foolish in front of him.
“Tomorrow,” he replied sadly. “I will not force you to come, milady. You hardly knew him, after all.”
“I will attend. We were almost married, and I was at his deathbed. I was the last person he spoke to apart from the priest. Of course I will come.”
He gave her a warm, genuine smile and put his hand over hers. “Thank you,” he murmured. His amber eyes, fringed with thick brown lashes, looked straight into hers. Beautiful eyes, she thought.
“I have no mourning clothes, though,” she said regretfully.
“Pfft!” He waved her words away dismissively. “Craig would not have cared about something so trivial, and neither do I.”
Just then, the food arrived, and suddenly Niall felt clumsy and awkward. He ate silently, unable to think of a single thing to say.
Elspeth felt the same way; she wanted to know so much about him since the man who would be marrying her in less than two days was virtually a stranger to her, but somehow the words would not come out.
She finished her wine, and he poured her another, which she sipped politely even though she felt that it might choke her. Most of her grouse pie lay untouched on her plate, but Niall had wiped his clean.
“You have a healthy appetite,” she remarked, a small smile twitchi
ng at the corners of her mouth.
“I should be in mourning,” he answered guiltily. “I should have lost my appetite and be unable to rise from bed.”
“Everyone is different,” Elspeth pointed out. “When my sister died, I could not cry at all. Not even when I saw them lowering her coffin into the ground. But when my pony died, I burst into tears at once, and the memory of Eileen’s death came rushing back...then I realized that I was crying for both of them.”
“Craig did not want us to grieve for him,” Niall stated. “He was one of the most thoroughly optimistic and happy people I ever knew. He had many responsibilities, but nothing ever seemed to sadden him overmuch. I always envied him his contentment.”
“You loved him very much,” Elspeth observed. “Just as brothers should. I know how you feel if it is any consolation. As I said, I lost my sister, Eileen, but it was a long time ago—ten years—so I have had time to mourn her.”
Niall sighed. “I have no doubt that I will survive Craig’s loss, but I am not sure if I can ever be as good a laird as he was.”
“I will help you,” Elspeth offered, “in whatever small way I can.”
“Thank you.” His voice was laden with relief. “I can assure you I will need every bit of help I can get.”
After that, it seemed that there was no more to speak about. Niall sat in gloomy silence while Elspeth picked at her food, looking for any reason she could think of to excuse herself.
She was just about to plead a headache when the door opened, and Niall’s mother, Lorna McLaren, came in. Dressed all in mourning black, she was a smaller female version of her son, with the same brownish-red hair and golden eyes that were now red and puffy from weeping. Niall jumped up and wrapped his arms around her as she burst into fresh tears. She had been visiting her sister and had rushed back as soon as she heard the news.
Elspeth watched as Niall and Lorna conversed in whispers, then she saw Lorna’s eyes widen in shock as she glared at her son’s new betrothed.
She sat frozen to the spot, unable to decide what to do. She had no wish to intrude on the obviously heated and private conversation that was going on a few feet away from her, but she desperately wanted to be anywhere else.
To her relief, Niall released his mother from his embrace and turned to Elspeth.
“Elspeth, this is my mother, Lady Lorna McLaren. I have explained the situation to her.”
Elspeth bowed respectfully, curtsied, and went forward to meet her future mother-in-law. “Milady, my condolences on your loss. I cannot imagine the pain you are feeling.”
Lorna’s eyes, so like her son’s, now gave Elspeth a tentative smile. “Thank you, my dear. Your sympathy is much appreciated. My heart is broken, but it will mend, and we must move on, as Craig would have wished us to. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go. I have much to do to prepare for the funeral.” She turned and walked away, leaving them together.
Niall looked at her and fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, then excused himself with a quick bow, saying he had to help his mother make arrangements for the funeral.
He can’t wait to get away from me.
Niall went to bed that night without seeing Elspeth again, but she filled his last thoughts before he went to sleep, and haunted his dreams. He did not rest well, but despite that, he was obliged to drag himself out of bed the next day to meet the elders of his clan. It was a meeting he did not relish.
3
A Funeral
An hour before the funeral, Niall went to pay his last respects to Craig. He stepped inside the chapel without crossing himself or genuflecting, and stopped at the side of the plain wooden coffin that contained the mortal remains of his beloved brother.
Craig’s face was pale, but peaceful in a way that Niall had never seen while he had been alive; his lips were turned up at the corners in a little smile. There was no trace of the fever that had taken his life, and as yet no hint of the corruption that would soon set in; he looked as if he were in a deep, contented sleep. Niall lifted Craig’s hand to his lips and kissed it; it was cold but dry and supple. Rigor mortis had come and gone. Niall was surprised when a tear dropped onto his brother’s hand, and it was only then that he realized he was weeping silently.
Reality slammed into him like a blow. He would never see Craig again—never wrestle with him, or be beaten by him at chess, since he was by far the better player. They would never enjoy a glass of whiskey by the fireside again or reminisce about their childhood before their father died. The two of them had been everything to each other for the last twelve years, and now Niall’s life would have a huge hole in the middle since his only brother had left him.
He could not even worry about the estate yet, since that could wait until after the funeral; this burden was enough for him to bear today. He gently put Craig’s hand on his chest again and stood gazing at him, his heart breaking. Craig had not only been his brother but his friend. Who would be his friend now?
Niall managed not to weep as he saw his brother’s coffin being lowered into the ground, but he only did it with a great effort of will. His most trusted companion, and the only person he completely loved in the world, apart from his mother, was being entombed in the cold ground. The thought of him in that wooden box, unable to move or escape, broke Niall’s heart. He would never listen to Niall’s secrets again, or tease him, ride with him, laugh at him, or see his wide toothy grin again. All Niall would have was the memory of his face and the sound of his voice ’til they too faded and disappeared.
His mother was absolutely inconsolable, and she would have thrown herself into the grave with the coffin if Niall had not held her back.
“What did I do?” she asked Niall, tears running down her face. “What did I do to deserve this, Niall? Did I not pray enough? Was I not a good enough mother?”
Niall hugged her. “You are a wonderful mother,” he consoled her. “Craig always said so, and I agree with him. You have no need to reproach yourself, Mother. God wanted him, and He took His child to sit beside Him in peace and happiness. We should be happy for Craig, even though we will miss him.” Niall said the words to comfort Lorna, but he raged at the god who would cut a young man down in the prime of his life.
Lorna nodded as Niall wiped his mother’s tears, but she was unable to carry on greeting guests and trying to be sociable, and eventually, Niall sent her to rest in her chamber. There was food and drink available for everyone several times over, and Niall did his duty and greeted everyone who paid their respects, but he could not eat. He swallowed a large tumbler of whiskey in one draught, and when he too could not bear the crowd any longer, he left quietly. But he did not leave unseen.
Elspeth watched him as he strode to the end of the courtyard, which was usually reserved for the guards’ combat training. He went inside the fortified keep and came out with a sword and a companion—the same short, swarthy man with black curly hair whom she had seen on the road. He gave Niall a brief hug and a pat on the shoulder before they drew their weapons and began a furious duel.
Niall was bigger and bulkier, but it seemed that the two were quite evenly matched since the battle went on for a long while before the smaller man made Niall stumble backward and land on his backside. However, Niall soon jumped to his feet. Using his weight advantage, he forced his adversary gradually backward and pinned him to the wall of the castle with his sword point touching the other man’s chest just over his heart. For a moment, it seemed that Niall would run the other man through with his weapon, but then they both laughed and hugged each other again.
Elspeth smiled. She could not hear their conversation, but as they walked back towards her, she turned and went inside again. Clearly, Niall was one of those men whose response to pain was masculine in the extreme; he fought it, and for that, she admired him. Women wept and men battled, which was why one was attracted to the other. She was certainly attracted to Niall!
“It’s your last night of freedom,” Stuart pointed out to Niall as they walked toward
s the stables. “This time tomorrow, you will be shackled to your bride with a bond you cannot break. It is time to sow your last wild oats, my boy.”
“Have a heart, Stuart,” Niall complained, frowning. “I have just buried my brother. It would be disrespectful to him. And I do not like the word ‘shackled.’ Elspeth is beautiful, and I could do much worse.”
“Nevertheless, you will be giving up your liberty.” Stuart was relentless. “Craig would be the first one to tell you to have one last taste of it! He was always like that.” His words held a hint of sadness.
Niall thought for a moment. “What did you have in mind?” he asked doubtfully.
“Come, and I will show you!” Stuart’s tone sounded mischievous, and Niall, not for the first time, wondered what he was letting himself in for. Still, whatever plot his friend was hatching had to be better than sitting around moping with a crowd of black-clad mourners. Stuart was right; Craig would not have wanted that.
“I am really not sure about this,” Niall said doubtfully as he mounted Rex. “Lead on, you scoundrel, but I reserve the right to turn back if I see anything that endangers my life.”
“Pfft!” Stuart scoffed and handed him a flask of whiskey. “Have some Scotch courage! But not too much, eh?” He winked. “It can be bad for your...em...abilities!”
Niall laughed uncertainly, but took a healthy swig from the flask and felt the fiery burn of the spirit course its way down to his empty stomach and spread to his head, which was already swimming a little. At that moment, he decided to throw caution to the wind. Caught between the misery of his brother’s funeral and the ordeal of his wedding the next day, the distraction of holding a warm, willing woman in his arms was too tempting to resist. He had only been with a prostitute once, when he lost his virginity, and it had been a distinctly embarrassing experience. However, he was older and wiser now, so why not try again?