The Bride Chooses a Highlander

by Adrienne Basso

  Still, Katherine stubbornly refused to believe the father who loved her so dearly would hold this anger toward her for too long. A day? Mayhap two? More troubling to her was the gaze he had cast upon Lachlan; the McKenna had stared at her husband as though he carried the plague.

  Katherine knew her father showed little mercy to those who thwarted him and she feared his vengeance could fall on Lachlan. A challenge would be issued; in all likelihood a contest of swords. The McKenna would probably appoint a champion to fight; however, if his anger remained this strong he might decide to enter the fray and wield the sword himself.

  If anything happened to either of them—Katherine clasped her hand over her heart. She’d never be able to live with herself.

  Katherine stood abruptly, her chair scraping noisily through the rushes. “Father and Lachlan have been alone together too long,” she declared, her voice unnaturally high. “What can they possibly be discussing? I need to go in and make certain they aren’t about to do anything foolish.”

  “Sit down, Katherine, and divest yerself of those dire imaginings,” Lady Aileen said calmly.

  “’Tis difficult,” Katherine admitted, struggling to contain her trepidation. “Father is furious with me and I fear he will unleash that fury upon my husband.”

  “Yer father has long treated ye as though ye walk upon water,” Joan said with a smile. “He’s angry with ye and Laird MacTavish, but he’ll not forsake ye.”

  Lady Aileen clucked her tongue. “He thinks foremost of yer welfare, Katherine. Never forget yer father holds fast to the ideal that he must protect his women, no matter what they have done. Aye, ye’ve caused a great deal of turmoil, but the current distance ye feel from him will ease. Yer father will fergive ye in time.”

  “’Tis not me that I am most worried about, Mother,” Katherine replied pointedly.

  Lady Aileen reached out and pulled Katherine into the chair. “The McKenna will bluster and threaten and probably shout at yer husband, but he’ll do no harm without first taking Lachlan’s measure and listening to his explanations.”

  “How can ye be so certain? Father favors severe punishment when he is angered.”

  Lady Aileen shook her head. “Yer father will put aside his displeasure and listen to reason. Aye, his first instinct might be to tear yer husband from limb to limb, but he willnae.”

  “I wish I shared yer optimism,” Katherine replied grimly. Her mother’s words were hardly a comfort. From limb to limb, indeed.

  “Yer father is no fool. He can see how much Lachlan means to ye,” Lady Aileen insisted. “The feelings ye hold fer yer husband are easily reflected in yer every gesture.”

  Katherine stilled. “He is my husband. Of course I care fer him.”

  Her mother smiled. “Ye love him, Katherine.”

  “I . . . I . . .”

  “Ye gaze at him with yer heart in yer eyes,” Joan agreed.

  Katherine brushed her palm across her brow. “I had not realized it was so obvious.”

  “I’m happy fer ye,” Lady Aileen said. “I always knew ye had the capacity to love deeply, if ye found the right man.”

  Katherine felt as if the wind had been knocked from her body. She had no idea that her thoughts and feelings were so easily displayed. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable. Yet there was no denying they existed.

  “It frightens me,” she admitted. She touched her lips, recalling the sensations of Lachlan’s kisses, the arousing heat and burning need that had the power to overwhelm her. “The tight, warm rush of feelings are sometimes so intense they almost hurt. They fill me completely, until I am close to bursting with emotions.”

  Lady Aileen and Joan exchanged a knowing look.

  “There’s nothing to compare to that first blush of love,” Joan said. “It fades and changes over time, holding true and somehow getting stronger. It will steady ye through the difficult times, easing yer burdens and dulling the disappointments that we all must face in life.”

  “What of Lachlan’s love fer me?” Katherine asked. “Do I dare to dream that one day he will gift me with it? And if he cannae, will I be able to bear the pain of longing fer what will never be?”

  Lady Aileen took Katherine’s hand and held it between her own. “Sometimes love needs time to grow and blossom. He married ye, knowing he’d need to fight to keep ye as his wife. ’Tis a good sign.”

  Katherine’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a Highland laird through and through. He’ll battle anyone who dares to take what he believes is rightfully his.”

  “Lachlan declared most vehemently that ye are not his possession,” Joan reminded her. “He is a man, and therefore hides his true feeling, but he gazes at ye with awe and treats ye with respect and deference. Ye could have done far worse in making this match.”

  Her sister-in-law’s observations gave Katherine pause. Joan’s tragic past had left deep scars of distrust and dislike of men. Though Malcolm’s love had softened Joan’s harsh edges, she rarely had anything good to say about any man, except when speaking of her own husband.

  “Yer words bring me comfort, Joan. At times I fear my affection fer Lachlan might have distorted my good opinion of him,” Katherine confessed in a soft whisper.

  “Ye are a sensible woman,” Joan replied. “Dinnae question or doubt the strength and validity of yer feelings. They are meant to be shared with the one ye love.”

  Katherine’s stomach dipped. The very thought of sharing her love with Lachlan brought on a rush of warmth. Not just a physical connection—which was a delight and joy unto itself—but an emotional bond. All her life she had harbored such hopes for her marriage. Would they finally become real?

  Lady Aileen’s brows drew together. “There are some men who believe that love between a husband and wife is a foolish fantasy, a delusion of silly maidens too unworldly to know any better.”

  “Ye have described Hamish Drummond most accurately, Mother.” The cloud of dread slowly lifted as Katherine realized how close she had come to calling that beastly man her husband. “Fortunately, Lachlan has a different opinion or else I would never have married him.”

  “Good.” Lady Aileen nodded her head approvingly. “Mark my words well, Daughter. In time he will come to cherish ye.”

  Katherine took a steady breath, drawing calmness and faith from her mother and sister-in-law’s support of her marriage and hope for her future. They both appeared certain that the love she craved so deeply was indeed within her reach.

  The women grew silent, each caught up in their own thoughts. Their tranquil mood was soon shattered by the arrival of the McKenna. He stomped into the great hall as though he were laying siege to an enemy castle. Undaunted, Katherine seized the chance and approached her father.

  “Good day,” she said cautiously.

  “Good?” The McKenna scowled. “I think not.”

  Instead of his usual smile for her, the McKenna snarled. It hurt. Tears gathered, but didn’t fall. She needed to be strong if she was going to convince her father to see her side of things.

  “Ye’re still angry with me,” she said, her voice low and mournful.

  “I have the right,” the McKenna stated. “A willful, disobedient, reckless daughter is a disappointment fer any father.”

  “’Tis obvious that I have fallen out of yer favor. Yet I make no apologies fer my actions, so please, let loose yer ire and chastise me as ye will. I’ll not cower and hide. I’ll face ye with my head held high.”

  Katherine threw back her shoulders. Her father still glowered, taut lines pulling grimly on his mouth, yet she sensed a small change. Was it her imagination or did he truly eye her with some respect?

  “I hear no regret in yer voice fer the havoc ye’ve caused, the mistakes ye’ve made,” the McKenna challenged.

  “I regret that I worried ye and Mother,” Katherine answered promptly. “I regret that some of the loyal McKenna men who sought to protect me when I had to flee were injured when I was captured and others suffered yer displea
sure. I regret that I have placed ye in a difficult position with Laird Drummond. But ye gave me little choice, Father.”

  A muscle in the McKenna’s cheek jumped. “Ye dare to make me the villain? The tyrant?”

  “Nay! I was frightened, upset, and I acted upon those strong emotions. I’m not too witless to understand the enormity of my misdeeds and I take responsibility fer my foolish actions, but I would do the same again.”

  “Did ye not trust me, Katherine? Did ye truly believe that I would force the marriage with Hamish and allow ye to be so miserable?”

  The hurt in her father’s voice rattled her, the anguish on his face struck her like a slap. “I only knew that I needed to save myself,” she confessed lamely.

  “Ye’ve no idea how frantic I felt when Brochan told me that ye’d been taken. The weight that pressed down upon my chest made it hard to breathe. There was no ransom demand, no clue to where ye might be. My blood ran cold as I imagined yer possible fate. I felt powerless fer the first time in my life and it nearly unmanned me.”

  The McKenna’s breath left his lungs in a low, tormented hiss. Katherine’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I am deeply sorry fer that pain.” Swallowing hard, she asked humbly, “Fergive me?”

  Gradually, the accusations in the McKenna’s expression eased. He scowled, yet held out a hand toward her. With a cry, Katherine threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder.

  The McKenna placed his palm on her head and patted it awkwardly. “Enough tears. Yer mother willnae cease scolding me if she sees that I’ve made ye cry.”

  Katherine sniffled and burrowed her head deeper into her father’s strength. “These are tears of happiness. I cannae bear to have such animosity between us.”

  The McKenna cleared his throat loudly. “All is not so easily settled between us, Daughter. What of this sudden marriage to MacTavish? Were ye so desperate to avoid Drummond that ye made a hasty, poor decision without considering fully what it means?”

  Blushing, Katherine withdrew from her father’s embrace. “The need to arrive home already married did exist, yet I made no compromise in my selection. Lachlan was my choice, the right choice.”

  “That remains to be seen,” her father said grudgingly.

  Katherine grinned. The father she had always known had returned. Powerful and in command, his emotions masked and hidden so as not to let any hint of weakness emerge.

  “Speaking of Lachlan, where is my husband?” Katherine asked, casting her gaze around the great hall.

  Her father’s conciliatory mood diminished. He raised his chin and looked at her with eyes filled with strength and determination. “There is much more that I need to learn about him before I will sanction this marriage. Lachlan MacTavish awaits his fate in the most appropriate location I could think of—the dungeon.”

  * * *

  Katherine felt her heart accelerate and knew it was not only due to the speed at which she ran through the great hall. The fear that was attacking her mind went beyond the dire imaginings her mother had so glibly told her to ignore.

  Lachlan in chains, beaten and bloody, perhaps even unconscious. Her chest constricted and she struggled to breathe. Hoisting her skirts so she could run unimpeded, Katherine raced down the stone stairway, taking the steps two at a time. Darkness shrouded her way as she descended into the bowels of the castle, her heart thumping in such a sharp, frantic rhythm her entire body shook.

  In her grandfather’s time, prisoners were kept in the tower, since it was the strongest part of the castle and the area that could be best defended if they tried to escape. But when her father made changes and strengthened the dwelling’s defenses, he decided to use the least desirable section of their home to imprison those who offended him and built a dank, dark vault in the cellar.

  The stench hit her like a wall when she reached the middle of the staircase. Damp earth, putrid air, and stale urine assaulted her nostrils, but she never broke stride. Darkness enveloped her. The cold draft was all that told her she had reached the bottom of the stairs, but the fear pulsing through her urged her feet forward.

  “Lachlan? Lachlan? Where are ye? Dear God, can ye hear me? Are ye injured?”

  “I’m fine, Katherine.”

  Lachlan’s voice came booming out of the darkness. Katherine lunged, then swore as her forward progress was halted by a wall of iron bars. Frustrated, she pushed her arm through, pressing in as far as the barrier would allow.

  “Where are ye? In here? Lachlan? Damnation, I cannae see a damn thing. I need a torch.”

  Cursing loudly, she stomped back to the stairway, climbed to the top, and using both hands and a considerable amount of strength, yanked a heavy, lit torch from its holder. Swinging it wide, she managed to spread a sparse, eerie light that illuminated her way back down the stairs, and through the narrow passage to her husband.

  Lachlan stood against the far wall of the small cell, feet spread, arms crossed. She saw defiance in his stance and the way he held his head high. The only sign of any agitation was the tightening of his fingers and the slight shifts of muscles along his jaw where his teeth were clenched.

  The sight brought her the briefest moment of relief, quickly replaced with shame and a heavy dose of guilt. This was all her fault. She had badly miscalculated her father’s reaction to her defiance and Lachlan was paying the price. How misused by her he must feel!

  “Och, Lachlan.” Katherine reached through the bars, needing to feel close to him.

  “Shh, Katherine, dinnae fuss. All will be well.”

  “I shall do far more than fuss,” she cried, casting him a confused, frustrated look that earned her a gentle smile. “I shall box my father’s ears. Or better still, tell my mother to do it!”

  The cell was foul, damp, and filthy, reeking like a swine pen. Yet he smiled at her. Smiled? She wanted to weep and wail, to scream like a shrew and throw things, specifically at her father’s head.

  “The McKenna does not like to be challenged.” Lachlan’s expression grew solemn. “I understand his attitude and fully believe that with time it shall change. But anything that ye say or do at this moment might make this worse.”

  “What could possibly be worse than having ye locked away in this horrid place?” she lamented, distressed that she had been caught so off guard. If she were wiser, she would have prepared herself—and Lachlan—for this eventuality.

  “I’m not in shackles. I have not been beaten or whipped. And I still draw breath.” Lachlan moved away from the far wall. Katherine again reached through the bars and he took her hand. The connection of their flesh momentarily calmed and soothed her.

  “’Tis all my fault. I gambled that we would be able to deflect his anger and avoid his harsh, judgmental nature. I am more sorry than I can say. Please, fergive me.”

  “I dinnae blame ye, Katherine. Indeed, I fully expected yer father to raise some objections to our marriage.”

  Objections! Saints preserve us, this imprisonment was far more than an objection. Her heart full of regret, Katherine squeezed Lachlan’s hand.

  “I shall put this to rights, I swear,” she vowed. “My mother will support us once she learns of this injustice. Graham will help and I’m sure I can get James and Malcolm on our side, when they return. Father will be unable to stand against such a united onslaught.”

  “Hush, dearest, ye’ll make yerself ill.”

  “I’m furious!” Katherine stomped her foot for emphasis, nearly crying out when her boot hit a jagged stone.

  “So I see.” Lachlan slowly stroked her hand. “’Tis wiser to wait until yer father’s anger has cooled before ye say or do anything.”

  “What of my anger?” she countered.

  “If these bars were not between us, I can think of several delightful ways to help it vanish.”

  Katherine nearly laughed out loud, grateful for his attempt to distract her. He was the one imprisoned, yet his attention was focused on casting aside her fears and misgi
vings.

  “Unlike the McKenna I can control and channel my fury,” she remarked daintily.

  “Then I ask that ye hold yer tongue.”

  Frowning, Katherine shook her head. “Lachlan—”

  “Fer now,” he added hastily. “It will take time to smooth over this breach and have yer father accept our marriage.”

  Katherine shrugged, uncertain how to respond, unable to completely ease the sense of foreboding that gripped her. In her mind, the longer Lachlan was confined to the dungeon, the easier it would be for her father to keep him imprisoned.

  Despite his bleak surroundings, Lachlan looked magnificent, his powerful presence reaching beyond the bars that sought to contain him. Her gaze locked with his and something deep within her shifted as she realized she had committed herself to him heart, body, and soul.

  It was a ridiculous time and place to declare it, but somehow the moment felt right. Even if she were alone in her feelings, they were too profound to keep hidden. He had captured her heart with so little effort and she wanted him, needed him, to know.

  “I love ye, Lachlan MacTavish,” Katherine whispered, feeling the wonders of the emotions encompassing her as she spoke the words.

  Lachlan gently stroked her hand. “’Tis yer guilt talking, Katherine.”

  A faint flush mottled her cheeks. “Nay. The thoughts, feelings, sensations are unlike any I’ve ever experienced.”

  “These feelings could be an infatuation or a simple attraction made all the more appealing because yer father seeks to deny our union,” he reasoned.

  Katherine swallowed back the swell of emotion that nearly choked her. “There is nothing simple about what I feel fer ye. My heart beats faster, my breath hitches, fie, my whole body tingles when I am near ye.”

  Lachlan coughed nervously. “Are ye certain ’tis love? Sounds more like the flux.”

  Katherine’s heart turned in her chest. What had she expected? A declaration of undying love and devotion from him?

  All in good time. As Mother said, sometimes love needs time to grow and blossom.