“‘Tis true,” Hamish said grimly. “I am more like my brother than my father. He presides over his people with a just nature and a protective arm. I do the same.”
Patrick raised his eyes brows. “My bastard is a laird? Over which clan?”
There was something in his tone Theo didn’t like. Not nearly enough surprise or anger.
His gut tightened. This is all an act. Someone has been feeding him information!
Hamish caught on as well and narrowed his eyes. “I think ye already know that answer.”
“I may have heard a rumor or two,” Patrick said with an evil grin. “There are more MacDougals loyal to me than my son would like to think. So ye are a Hamilton now, and ye married the Sinclair hellion. I had plans for her to wed Theo, ye know, before I learned that my son has a limp spine. I’m sure his cock is no different, or he’d have a brood of whelp bastards by now. It seems the lovely girl chose the son with more virility. Aye, I think the bastard does take after me.”
Grace opened her mouth, but Theo shook his head. If he had any idea that Patrick had sighted Grace for Theo, that meant his father might have had an obsession with the woman himself, and he would never have allowed Grace to see him. The less she interacted with him, the better.
“The last time that I was here, ye claimed it would have been better that I’d never been born. Now that I have formed an alliance with my brother, ye may wish that true now more than ever. He may not have the stomach to see ye dead, but if the task ever needs doing, trust that I am more than willing to take up the sword,” Hamish said in a casual tone. “But that is where my thirst for violence ends. I protect what is mine. Ye bloody anything that is yers. If ye see me again, it will be in yer last moments on this earth.”
Without another word, Hamish turned and guided Grace out of the chambers.
Patrick locked eyes with Theo. “Has MacSeaver declared war over Loch Moran?”
“The business of this clan is no longer yer concern. If I discover that anyone is passing along information to ye, ye can say goodbye to yer cushy chambers and die in the dungeons below.”
“I havenae had my walk in the gardens yet!” Patrick bellowed.
“And ye wilnae as punishment for disregarding the rules,” he said. “The guards will bring ye supper, and perhaps ye can go out tomorrow.”
It cost him less and less every day when he turned from his father and left him to the rage of his temper. Unlocking the gates, he guided Hamish and Grace out before turning to the guards. “Someone is feeding him information. There will be a reward for whoever comes forth with evidence. If I discover the traitor within twenty-four hours, they will only be banished rather than executed. After that, I may no longer feel generous.”
The two guards exchanged a look and nodded. Theo was confident that he’d have a name by morning.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt such evil from someone before,” Grace whispered with a shudder. “How did ye stand living here?”
“When my father couldn’t beat me into submission anymore, I lived with the knowledge that I had to be smart if I wanted to survive as his heir. There were things I had to do to appease him, things I could not figure a way out of, and they will haunt me ‘til the day that I die.”
“They must have been worth it, for here ye are now, righting the wrongs of yer father.”
Theo wasn’t so certain that he agreed, but he nodded. “Come now, we have more important things to discuss. Let’s have dinner and chat about when ye plan on leaving my brother for me.”
“Over my dead body,” Hamish muttered good-naturedly.
Theo chuckled. He’d arranged for a feast in the Great Hall to introduce his brother to the MacDougals and was pleased to see that the promise of food had lured quite a few highlanders from their homes. Most still averted their eyes, but they began to warm up during the meal, enjoying Theo and Hamish’s banter. The children were fascinated by Grace, especially the little girls, and begged to train with her.
It broke Theo’s heart to think that they didn’t want to train because it was fun but for fear that someone else would come along and take everything away from them like Patrick had done to their parents.
While Grace was charming the children, Hamish polished off the last of his meal and leaned back. “So, tell me of Loch Moran. How many of the people stayed behind?”
“Surprisingly, most of them. I keep waiting for Fletcher to declare war on me, but I think the knowledge of his wife’s betrayal has unsettled him. For now, Graeme has asked permission to visit frequently to ensure that I am treating his people kindly. I tell him that they’re my people now, but I have allowed it in the spirit of a peaceful transition.”
“Is that wise?”
“Mayhap, mayhap not. But I know the people want me to marry one of their own. Every time I go, they throw their daughters at me in hopes that one will sway me.”
“‘Tis not a bad idea,” Hamish pointed out cautiously. “It would secure their favor toward ye.”
“Aye,” he sighed. “I know.”
“Are there any that ye would consider?”
“I have not taken the time to meet many of them. I travel at the end of the week to spend some time there and learn more about the recourses. ‘Tis why I asked ye here. I was hoping to borrow some of yer men to help keep an eye on things while I am gone.”
“I can do better than that. I want to get to know yer people and let them see the support that ye have. I will send Grace back with my men to look after the Hamiltons for me, and I will stay here in yer stead.”
Theo was pleased. “I would appreciate that.”
“So ye can hunt for a wife without stressing about things here,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
As Theo growled, Grace returned after overhearing their conversation. “Stop that, Hamish. Theo deserves to marry for love, just as we did.”
“Love.” Theo sighed. “Hamish and yer brothers have been lucky, Lady Grace, but I fear that I doonae have that luxury. I will marry for duty. I doonae think I am capable of love.”
Grace narrowed her eyes. “Ye listen to me right now, Theodore MacDougal. Ye wilnae let yer father ruin yer life by taking away love. He is no longer in charge of yer life. Ye are more than capable of love. Do ye understand me?”
Not wanting to argue with her, he nodded, but privately, he feared that once a woman saw the scars on his body, they would see a monster.
Sometimes Theo wondered if he would be like his father. If he would be a monster. That was no burden that he should place on a wife, let alone a woman that he loves. No, after an alliance and an heir, it would be better if his wife was nowhere near him.
2
It was the overwhelming scent of honeysuckle that woke her up. Wrinkling her nose, Gemma tried not to gag. It was not the first time she’d woken up to find her small cottage full of honeysuckle. The first time, she’d tried to gently tell her neighbors that while a small bushel was pleasant enough to smell, a whole hoard of the plant in a small setting was overwhelming and sickening.
They obviously decided that her need to find a husband was more important than her senses, for this was the third time in two weeks that she’d woken up to the pungent odor. It was their staunch belief that hanging honeysuckle near an unwed lass while she slept would invite marriage. How they were managing to get into her cottage to stash it without waking her up, she’ll never know. Where they were even finding honeysuckle this early in the year was beyond her as well.
As far as Gemma was concerned, the only thing it invited was a foul morning of cleaning and shooing bees from her home.
With a sigh, she reached over and grabbed the shaft of fabric that she’d now taken to keeping by her bed. Holding it over her mouth, she rose from the bed and slipped into her shoes. Opening the door to her bedroom, she groaned when she saw the honeysuckle. It was everywhere. Hanging from the nails that usually held her pots. Spread out across the butcher block and dining table. Even hanging from
her cooking wire in the chimney.
At this rate, there must be no honeysuckle left on this side of the mountain.
The first time, she’d gathered it up and made headdresses for the girls. The second time, she dried them and fashioned them into ribbons for sashes for their dresses. The third, she’d gathered in bouquets and distributed them back to the homes of the people who had placed them in her cottage in the first place.
Enough was enough. Cramming them into her basket, she planned on marching across the fields and throwing them into the loch.
Maybe they will be better suited for the water fae these God-fearing folks still believe in!
Sometimes it was strange being an English woman living alone among the highlanders.
Opening the door, she gasped and nearly charged into the group that had gathered outside her door. They looked at her expectantly.
“If you’re wondering, a husband didn’t magically appear with the honeysuckle,” she greeted them dryly.
“Please doonae be angry, lass, but ye must wed! ‘Tis been a month! The laird is sure to remember ye now!” Agnes clutched her chest in horror.
Her husband, Harris, nodded. “Aye. If ye are wed, he cannae wed ye. Are ye certain that ye wilnae consider our Ollie? He’s a good lad.”
They were peculiar neighbors. Agnes acted in many capacities at the loch, from healer to wise woman of those that followed the old religion, although she and the priest seemed to get along well. Harris seemed to know a great many details about the other clans, although she wasn’t sure how. He was the one who had informed her that the MacSeaver mistress had been executed for her treachery and that Fletcher would not want a wife.
Their daughter, Elizabeth, was one of her best friends. A little younger than Gemma in age, she was years younger in maturity, having been protected by her parents and the rest of the loch. A lovely lass of dark hair and blue eyes, she filled Gemma with a longing for her sisters even though they had never been close.
“Yes, he is a good lad, but I will only marry for love, so I will not be marrying Fletcher even if he marches in here and demands it. Besides, he isn’t your laird anymore. Laird MacDougal is.”
“Ye could marry him! We hear that he is nothing like his father,” Elizabeth said, swooning just a little. “And he is so handsome.”
“Then you should marry him, Elizabeth.” Although Gemma had managed to stay hidden whenever the new laird of Loch Moran came to visit, she’d heard tales of Theo MacDougal’s handsome face and strong body. The neighbors of Loch Moran desperately wanted him to wed one of their own, to ensure that he cared as much about the people as he did the rich resources that came from the loch and the soil. She feared that when they ran out of daughters to throw his way, they would drag her out of her home and toss her at him next.
“My mother says I am still too young to wed. So ye will have to wed Theo to please him,” Elizabeth said as she flipped her hair. Of course, it wasn’t true, but it was obvious her parents were unwilling to part with her yet. Gemma, on the other hand, was an older woman living scandalously alone.
The others nodded eagerly, and Gemma sighed. While it felt like her friends were sacrificing her, she knew they feared marriage to Fletcher would be far worse, and they were probably not wrong.
An idea formed in her head. “If I promise to meet with the MacDougal laird when he returns, will you stop scavenging the forests for honeysuckle and stuffing them in my cottage?”
Once again, they all bobbed their heads like the ducks on the loch waves that she enjoyed drawing.
“Then you have my word that next time he is here, I will greet him and introduce myself.”
If she were lucky, the laird would show his face in a few months, and she might finally have some reprieve.
“Excellent. I overheard his men talking, and he is to arrive at the end of the week!” Harris shouted, and the crowd cheered.
Rats!
Well, a promise was a promise, and if she stuck to the truth, there was little doubt in her mind that the laird wouldn’t be interested in her. They liked young maidens, not ruined women.
“Now that that’s out of the way, I’m sure we all have things that we need to do. Agnes, I have a new blanket ready for your babe and your mother. I also have the new tapestries ready to go on the next shipment. Give me a hand?”
The women gathered the honeysuckle from her, and Gemma and the men toted the tapestries to the crates. In trade, they fetched new boots after the winter had worn most of their boots to a nub. She’d already started on the summer shipment to purchase items to prep for winter.
Gemma wished she could work faster, but it wasn’t like she’d been weaving for years. She was lucky that she was talented, but she wasn’t fast by any means.
“Ye do beautiful work, lass,” Harris said softly and shook his head. “I doonae know why ye stay here.”
“Because this is my home, and you are my family.” Impulsively, she leaned over and hugged him. “There is no other place that I would rather be.”
“At least MacDougal’s land isnae far. Ye will be able to visit often if he is a good man.” Harris nodded. “I believe him to be a good man.”
She wanted to tell him that he had nothing to worry about. She had absolutely no intention of marrying and leaving Loch Moran—not for the MacDougal laird, not for anyone.
“Lady Gemma! Lady Gemma!”
At the sound of young Rufus’s voice, Gemma turned and caught the young boy just as he threw herself into her arms. Tears were streaking down his face.
“Rufus, sweetheart,” she said soothingly as she fell to her knees so she could hug him tight. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not Lady Gemma? I am just Gemma.”
“Ye are Lady Gemma,” he cried stubbornly. “Ye are the daughter of a arse-ticrosy.”
Gemma tried not to snort with laughter. The child’s pronunciation was probably more telling than he knew. The world of British nobility meant little here in the mountains, but she didn’t remind him of that. She also didn’t mind. Here, she was freer than she’d ever been as the fourth daughter of a duke.
“Why are you crying, my sweet? Did you injure yourself?”
“No, ‘tis ye. I heard the new guards at the border talking. Graeme Fletcher is nearby, and he’s on his way. He’s coming for you!”
3
It was a two-day ride across his land to reach Loch Moran. Leading a small band of men, he arrived just as dusk was settling over the large port of water. The orange glow from the sun reflected off the calm surface. The last time he was there, the waters were rough; a show of nature’s strength. Even now, watching the water, he wasn’t fooled. Beneath that calm surface was a current that could carry a person away.
Loch Moran was beautiful but deadly. Her residents knew it was for ships only and not for swimming or bathing. A moment of rest could instantly turn into a fatal drowning if one weren’t careful.
The first stop was at the patrols he’d put in place. Loch Moran was vulnerable right now, but he had a feeling no clan would ambush so soon after the king’s command to leave it to Theo.
Still, he would take no chances.
“Report.”
“They just finished up a shipment of goods to go out. ’Tis small, and they’ve requested goods in trade. Boots, fabrics, a few spices, and some tools. All has been peaceful.” He hesitated. “Graeme MacSeaver has been here for a couple of days.”
Theo growled, but there was nothing he could do about Graeme. “Is he causing problems?”
The guard shook his head.
“Excellent. I’ve brought some supplies to replenish ye for now. If anyone wishes to return to the keep, let me know, and I will work out some substitutes.”
The guard looked surprised but nodded. Theo couldn’t afford to ask for volunteers, so he’d chosen the guards with no families, but some still had lasses waiting for them. He was willing to change the guards out every two weeks to make certain that they could still spend s
ome time at home, until he could think of a more permanent solution. There were outlying villages on MacDougal land that survived just fine without constant supervision, but Loch Moran was different, and Theo couldn’t take any chances.
There had been no abandoned shelters when Theo took over Loch Moran, which showed its first weakness. MacSeaver hadn’t bothered building guard posts or cottages to stay while he visited, most likely because Fletcher MacSeaver thought himself too important for menial work like that.
Theo hadn’t made that mistake. Shelters were the first things built. He wanted to ensure that his guards had roofs over their heads, and that he and his men had a place to stay.
His men were already getting settled and setting up a small camp outside. There were fireplaces in the cottages and a small kitchen, but they were comfortable making their meals outside and would eat together before they turned in.
As usual, the fire drew a crowd, and the MacSeavers came out to offer them food for their meal and chat.
Not MacSeavers, Theo reminded himself. They are MacDougals now. They’d sworn their allegiance to him by staying, and soon he would be handing out colors. Most highlanders didn’t switch clans easily, and Theo wasn’t sure he could trust a group of people that did, but one look at them proved that Fletcher hadn’t taken care of them.
Even as he walked up, he could see that some of the children were racing around with bare feet. No wonder they were trading for supplies. Why hadn’t they asked for his help the last time he was there?
Why hadn’t he noticed?
“Laird MacDougal,” one older man greeted respectfully before he frowned. “My apologies...I should simply call ye Laird now, shouldn’t I?”
He knew his reputation was still that of his father’s reputation, but these people had no direct contact with his father. They weren’t haunted by nightmares, and it was nice not to see fear lurking in the depths of their gaze.
“It will take time. I understand. What are ye called?”
Highlander’s Lesser Evil: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Highlands' Deceptive Lovers Book 4) Page 2