A third child appeared and was given the meat-soaked trencher of bread. He held it in his hands as though it was the most precious gift in the world. Katherine bowed her head in silent thanks, realizing she had never truly appreciated the comfortable life with which she had been blessed. Due to their wealth, no man, woman, or child ever suffered from severe hunger in her clan.
“Why is there so little fresh meat tonight?” Lachlan asked Aiden, his voice tight.
“The hunting has been slim with so many of the men out searching fer Lady Katherine,” Aiden said defensively.
“We’ll hunt in two groups tomorrow,” Lachlan replied. “I’ll lead one and ye the other.”
Lachlan took a swig of ale. He turned toward her and she noted that the expression in his eyes seemed far older than his years. ’Twas clear the poverty and want of his people weighed heavily upon him. So much so that he willingly gave them the food from his own table.
’Twas a depth of caring and sacrifice that touched her heart. More than anything, she wanted to reach out and take his hand, to offer him silent comfort and understanding. But she lacked the nerve, uncertain how he would interpret the gesture.
Instead, she waited for the music and storytelling to begin, hoping that would lighten the mood. Finally, the trestle tables were pushed to the edges of the great hall. Katherine wiggled in her chair, debating if she should offer a song.
At home, many praised her lyrical voice and she was often asked to sing. Perhaps the familiar verses of a ballad would help ease the feelings of loneliness that gripped her.
However, after all the tables had been moved from the center of the hall, everyone began to leave. Confused, Katherine sagged in her chair, clamping down her disappointment.
“Do ye need an escort to yer chamber?” Lachlan asked. “One of the maids can light the way.”
Katherine nodded. Her stomach rumbled and her head began to ache. She was hardly tired after the nap she had taken, but there was no reason to stay. She bid the family good night and followed the maid from the great hall.
’Tis best if I go to bed, she told herself as she climbed the winding stairs. It had been a long, tiring, eventful day.
Things were bound to look better come morning.
* * *
“Now that she has been found, Aiden and I were hoping ye’d tell us yer plans fer Lady Katherine,” Lady Morag said.
She placed a half-empty bottle of spirits in front of Lachlan, then nodded dismissively at the few servants lingering in the great hall. Lachlan sighed, knowing she wanted privacy so they could speak freely. He ached with fatigue and hunger and longed for sleep, but this conversation could not be avoided.
“As soon as Lady Katherine has fully recovered from her illness, I will lead an escort of my men to McKenna Castle and return her safely to her family,” Lachlan replied, taking but a small sip of the potent whiskey. It slid smoothly down his throat, warming him from the inside.
Aiden scoffed. “Ye cannae mean to simply take her back to her family and demand nothing in return? What of our brother?”
“The McKenna laird might consider an exchange,” his stepmother added hopefully. “’Twould be a benefit to us all.”
Lachlan bit back a snort. “If I demanded anything from the McKennas, ’twould be sacks of grain and a few cattle to feed us through the rest of the winter,” he replied, disgusted with himself for even considering the notion of accepting payment.
“Lady Katherine is a great prize. Ye hold her so easily in yer grasp and yet ye’d ask fer grain?” Aiden scowled at Lachlan, his disgust evident. “The McKenna would gladly give up Robbie fer his daughter along with a hefty pile of coins.”
Lachlan shook his head. “I cannae risk further angering the man. Robbie’s fate is foremost in my mind, but it willnae rule my actions. Laird McKenna respects the Highland honor. I will return his daughter—unharmed—and apologize fer her abduction. ’Tis our best chance, dare I say our only chance, of preventing him from riding to our gates with a band of his fiercest warriors and burning us out,” Lachlan said wryly.
“Have ye no pride? There are no circumstances on earth that would have me grovel and cringe before any man, no matter how powerful!” Aiden pushed himself away from the table and began pacing, his angry strides crushing the rushes beneath his feet. “Ye are throwing away our best chance—nay, our only chance of rescuing our brother.”
Lady Morag gave Lachlan a silent, frenzied look. He turned his head away, tired of having to justify his decisions, wishing he could simply give her and Aiden what they wanted. Yet as much as he would like to please his stepmother, his first consideration must be the welfare of the entire clan.
Suddenly, Aiden ceased his pacing. “We wouldn’t be so vulnerable to the McKennas if we had a strong ally.”
“I can think of no sane laird who would side with us against the McKenna,” Lachlan replied, taking a final sip of his drink. Lady Morag lifted the bottle, but he slid his hand over the rim of his goblet, refusing another portion.
“Archibald Fraser might,” she whispered.
Aiden flashed a triumphant grin and Lachlan had to admit, under different circumstances the suggestion might be something to consider.
“Fraser lacks honor,” Lachlan stated bluntly. “We could never trust him.”
“All the more reason not to make an enemy of him,” Aiden insisted.
Lachlan shrugged. “He’s never bothered with us in the past.”
“Katherine McKenna has never before slept beneath our roof,” Aiden countered.
“She will be gone before week’s end,” Lachlan replied. He kept his voice calm, his manner relaxed, but Aiden’s point had rattled him. Fraser was a complication he had not anticipated and could swiftly turn into a problem. He presented a real danger to Katherine and, in turn, to all of clan MacTavish.
“Lady Katherine’s presence in our home places every one of us in jeopardy,” Aiden said. “What if Fraser discovers that ye’ve lied to him about her? He’ll be furious, bent on avenging the insult.”
“We’ve all heard the terrible stories about him.” Lady Morag’s face looked stricken. “Could we withstand a feud with the Fraser laird and his clan?”
“If Archibald learns the truth, he’ll most likely be angry, perhaps even vengeful, but we have nothing of value to pillage or plunder,” Lachlan said in a tightly controlled voice. “’Tis one of the few benefits of being so poor.”
“Katherine McKenna is a prize above all others in Fraser’s eyes,” Aiden said. “He would be in our debt if we gave her to him.”
Never! A shudder coursed through Lachlan at the thought of Katherine in Fraser’s clutches.
“Men like Fraser kill fer the joy of it.” Lachlan scrubbed a hand wearily across his brow. “And ye are proposing an alliance with him.”
Aiden turned his gaze to Lady Morag, then back to Lachlan. “I’m trying to do what is best fer the clan.”
Lachlan made a derisive noise deep in his throat. “Ye are trying to justify yer poor judgment.”
“That’s a lie!”
“God’s bones!” Lady Morag gasped and clutched her hand over her heart. “It distresses me to no end to witness my sons acting like combatants. If ye dinnae work together, how will we ever survive this upheaval?”
Lachlan reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. To his surprise, Aiden did the same.
“We are too much alike, my brother and I,” Lachlan observed. “We both want to be in command and have others do our bidding without question or protest.”
“Lachlan is our laird,” Lady Morag said, determination filling her expression. “The final decision rests with him.”
“Aye, Mother. Ye need not remind me.” Aiden muttered an oath and stepped away, his footsteps echoing through the chamber.
An awkward silence settled between Lachlan and his stepmother.
“Aiden is passionate because he cares so deeply,” she said quietly. “I hope that ye understand it.”
Understand it, aye. Continue to tolerate it? Not much longer.
Chapter Nine
Katherine slowly drifted awake. She opened her eyes, pleased to discover her head was no longer throbbing. She swallowed, relieved to feel only a trace of soreness in her throat. Apparently, a thorough rest in a proper bed did have the power to heal.
Katherine stretched her arms above her head and rotated her shoulders. Most of the stiffness was gone from her limbs and she felt more refreshed than she had in days. Spirits lifted, Katherine glanced around the chamber.
It appeared even more plain and sparse in the morning light. The linens she had slept upon were threadbare, though clean and infused with the fresh scent of lavender. The mattress stuffed with straw was firm, the pillows soft and feather-filled. The wooden floor was swept free of dirt and there was no sign of vermin.
A chest was placed at the foot of the bed. Resisting the temptation to investigate, Katherine assumed it contained Lachlan’s clothing. There was a table with a single chair and another smaller wooden stand with a pitcher and basin for washing. The tiny flame in the fireplace gave off the only light in the room, as the iron sconces in the walls were either empty or held candle nubs so small they would not hold a flame. Judging by the smell, they were made of tallow and not beeswax.
There were no personal items to be seen that revealed the character of the occupant. No armor or weaponry, no maps or a chessboard and finely carved pieces. It appeared that all Lachlan did in this chamber was sleep.
Katherine crossed the room to the largest of the three windows. Slowly opening the wooden shutters, Katherine pulled back the leather covering that provided protection from the wind and cold. They, too, were well worn and she feared that if she were not careful, she might tear them.
The resulting window view was surprising in its beauty—rugged, rolling hills, a dense forest of green pines, and a sparkling blue loch were spread before her. The lovely sight of the Highlands, even in the dead of winter, lifted her mood.
A soft knock at the door drew Katherine’s attention. At her bid to enter, a young maid arrived, carrying Katherine’s clothing. “We’ve cleaned yer gown and mended the small tears,” the lass said nervously. “I’m to help ye dress and then take ye to the hall to break yer fast, milady.”
“I am grateful fer yer assistance, . . . ?”
“Flora,” the maid answered with a relieved expression, causing Katherine to wonder if the lass worried that she would turn the famous McKenna temper upon her. After all, Katherine had been brought here against her will. ’Twould be understandable if she was less than gracious toward those who held her captive.
“Let’s start by untangling my hair, Flora,” Katherine said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
The maid produced a hairbrush and comb. Katherine sat in the chair, trying not to wince as the knots were brushed away. When that was done, Flora expertly braided the long tresses and pinned them in a circle at the crown of Katherine’s head.
“Lady Morag gave me a short veil fer ye,” Flora said, holding out the headpiece.
“How thoughtful,” Katherine replied. “I fear mine was lost days ago.”
Flora’s wide eyes grew even rounder. “Is it true that Sir Aiden gave chase and plucked ye right off yer galloping horse?” the maid asked in a trembling voice.
“Aye. ’Tis a miracle neither of us were injured,” Katherine said in a biting tone, the memory a most unpleasant reminder of her current circumstances.
“Sir Aiden is such a skilled horseman and a brave fighter,” Flora said, her expression filling with awe. “He is much admired by all.”
“He may well possess an abundance of virtues,” Katherine replied sourly. “Unfortunately, common sense is not among them.”
“He was doing what he thought best fer the clan,” Flora insisted. “’Tis awful how he has been chastised, his opinion disregarded. The laird shouldn’t be so angry with him.”
Katherine tilted her head. “Are there others who believe the same? That Sir Aiden has the right of it?”
Flustered, Flora turned away, no longer meeting Katherine’s eye. “There are many who believe what Sir Aiden did was right, though they’ll not show disrespect and defend him to the laird.”
Katherine was uncertain how much credence to give to this bit of news. Were there warriors in the clan who also supported Aiden or was it mainly impressionable females like Flora, who could easily be taken in by Aiden’s handsome face and winning smile?
Highlanders could be a fickle lot. They admired strength, cunning, and loyalty. Though uncommon, ’twas not impossible for a laird to lose the respect of his people and be replaced. Was that a possibility? Katherine clenched her teeth. If Aiden replaced Lachlan as laird, she feared things could go badly for her.
Flora went silent. She was, however, efficient and Katherine was soon ready, feeling far more like herself dressed in her own clothing. The maid escorted her out and Katherine immediately took note of the two warriors standing guard in front of her door, wondering when they had arrived at their post—late last night? This morning?
“Two guards?” she muttered beneath her breath, wondering if they had been placed there to keep her in the chamber or others out. Either situation did not sit well in her mind, reminding her again of her vulnerability.
Saying no more, she followed the maid down the winding stone stairs into the great hall. It was nearly empty, causing Katherine to realize how late she had slept.
“I’ll fetch ye some porridge,” Flora volunteered.
The bowl the maid soon brought contained a thin, bland, unappetizing gruel, but Katherine relished the warmth it provided as it filled her belly. She was surprised to realize she could have eaten a second bowl, yet after the events of last evening knew better than to ask for another. Food, no matter how poor in quality, was scarce at MacTavish Keep.
Only a few servants cleaning off the wooden tables remained in the great hall when Katherine was finished with her meager meal. She swallowed the last of her bitter ale and headed for the door, half expecting a guard to materialize, perhaps even stop her—yet none appeared.
Though cold, the fresh air felt invigorating and the strong sunshine chased away an initial chill. Katherine toyed with the notion of returning to her chamber to retrieve her cloak, but decided she would simply return indoors if she became cold.
The noise and bustle in the bailey was a sharp contrast to the quiet of the hall. A group of women were drawing water from a well, while others stoked the fires of a row of laundry kettles. Two lads carrying baskets of dark brown bread plodded through the muddy ground while children of all ages and sizes darted around the buildings and between the carts, playing a lively game of tag.
Katherine received a few polite nods from those she walked past, but many averted their eyes. She turned the corner and hesitated, spying a large group of workers gathered around one of the outbuildings. The pleasant scent of freshly cut wood wafted from a cart positioned at the structure’s doorway and she surmised they were engaged in some sort of construction project.
Curious, she paused to watch. Two lines of men carefully passed a large beam up the side of the building, handing it off to a smaller group at the top, the grunts and groans attesting to the weight of their burden. For a moment Katherine held her breath, half expecting to see it slip and crash to the ground, but somehow it managed to reach the crew on the roof.
Katherine moved her hand to her brow, shading her eyes for a closer look, and was startled to realize that it was Lachlan on the roof, angling the heavy beam like a common laborer. He was directing the men’s efforts, calling out commands as he worked alongside them.
He had stripped down to his shirt. Every line of his muscular form was defined through the thin fabric; his shoulders looked broader, his arms thicker. She could clearly see the array of flat muscles rippling down his stomach as he lifted the beam over his head.
I
t took three men on the opposite side to handle the beam that Lachlan moved by himself. His chest was damp with sweat causing his shirt to cling to his arms and torso, attesting to the effort that he was exerting.
Katherine found herself unable to look away. There was something almost mesmerizing about watching his muscles flex with each of his movements. ’Twas an undeniable exhibition of brute strength, yet there was grace, even elegance in it.
Katherine slowly, evenly released the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. With the beam secured in place, Lachlan ordered the men away and scrambled down the roof. He landed on the ground with a soft thud. Stepping back, he heaved a large sigh and pushed a lock of damp hair from his brow.
Her senses reeled. His eyes looked tired and she could see the shadow of a beard on the chiseled line of his jaw. Aiden might possess the perfectly sculpted features of a Greek god, but Lachlan had a strong, rough, masculine beauty that sent a shiver sweeping over her.
It seemed the more she learned about him and observed his behavior, the more she admired him, was attracted to him. It was evident in the way these men looked to him for instruction that he was a natural leader. She was impressed at his knowledge of building, but also his willingness to do the hard, physical work that any soldier she knew would think beneath him.
Katherine tried to imagine her father—or even one of her brothers—doing the same, but could not. They were Highland warriors to the bone, proud of their fighting prowess, strength, and cunning in battle. They protected those who tilled the soil, tended the livestock, and repaired the buildings. They did not work beside them.
Lachlan’s head turned and their gazes unexpec-tantly met. His brow rose and something sparkled in his eyes. Joy at seeing her? Nay! Inwardly, Katherine chastised herself for such vanity, deciding he was most likely glad that she was up and about and would soon be ready to make the journey home.
“The color has returned to yer face,” Lachlan said as he came to stand beside her. “Or is it the cold weather and lack of a proper cloak that brings the redness to yer cheeks?”
The Bride Chooses a Highlander Page 10